#LOOK AT HIS LITTLE GREY WHISKERS

[bratbarzal]

BERINE!!!! MY FAV!!!

[ozarkthedog]

𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭

summary: joel fucks you over the kitchen sink.

warnings: 18+ smut. best friends dad!joel x afab!reader. alt universe. unspecified age gap. secret relationship. soft dom!joel. cream pie. w.c. 529

author's note: writing has been difficult lately so i'm trying to write little pieces like this randomly to help get the creativity flowing again. so i apologize if this isn't my best. *runs off into the night*

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

"You better keep those hands on the counter if you want to come," Joel's lips brush your ear with the soft threat. Large, worn hands smother your own against the cool marble, keeping you still yet pliable.

You anxiously peer through the kitchen window.

It's been 10 minutes or so since you left. You made up a white lie about a headache to your friends, excusing yourself from the splashing chaos in the pool, only to find yourself in the arms of your friend's dad, Joel.

It started off innocently with wandering eyes and cheeky comments, which turned into brazen touches and stolen kisses over the last few months. Eventually, you ended up in Joel's bed one lonely night after a rough breakup. You sought solace from your friend, but Joel was the one who answered the door when she wasn't home.

Worry tugs at your nerves, bottom lip pinched hard between your teeth. You silently pray your friends won't realize you're missing and come searching. You wouldn't be able to face them if they saw you bent over the counter taking their friend's dad's cock.

"Where'd you go, sweet girl?" his thumb brushes your lip, pulling it softly from between your teeth. You kiss the warm pad before he pushes it into your mouth, letting you suckle on the digit.

"Stay righ' with me." He murmurs, pressing his broad front against your spine and trapping your body to the counter's edge. "Don' need to be thinkin' 'bout anythin' else 'cept takin' my cock."

Your breath hitches as he grinds his length deeper, nudging his weeping crown at the end of you, forming you around him like a leather glove.

"What if someone sees." You blurt, frantically clutching his wrist when one of your friends looks toward the kitchen window. Thankfully, the sun blinds her view just as Joel flips the two of you out of sight.

A steady arm locks around your waist, keeping you pinned on his thick cock while you're left at his mercy. He uses the support of the counter against his lower back to keep you propped and open for him.

"What'd I say 'bout thinkin', huh?" he snaps his hips, driving his girth between your drenched folds, ruthlessly accentuating his words with each thrust. "Nothin'. But. My. Cock."

A brute hand curls under your jaw and tips your head against his shoulder. His grey whiskers scratch your cheek. "Can feel her creamin' on me, ya know." He grits, tightening his hold on your jaw as your cunt swirls around his girth. "Why you fightin' it? We both know you're exactly where ya want to be, sweet girl."

Your eyes press tight as a wave of untamed arousal shoots from your cunt straight into your brain. Joel smacks his hand over your mouth, barely muting your sounds of carnal bliss as you tumble over the edge, body quivering and writhing in his hold.

"Tha's my good girl." Joel huskily praises. Your fingers dig into his forearm as he picks up speed. He grunts like a wild animal, uncaged and dirty, feverishly fucking into your soaked heat until his cum is dripping down your thighs.

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[crescenthistory]

hi there love! i hope you're doing well 🤍 if it's okay w/ u, i'd like to request a regulus fic (are we surprised? no-) with an animagus! reader. maybe reggie and reader got into a fight about something and reader's still holding a grudge. they refuse to change out of their cat (or any animal u choose!) form and regulus is trying everything to get them to change back. ending in fluff probably :D

~🍓

i'm quite alright darling, hope the same goes for you<3 this little drabble is written with the same cat!animagus!reader i've written for reggie so far in mind (whiskers, my love) since she's known to be petty...

Words: 1.3k

Warnings: fem!reader, minor fight (lighthearted), embarrassment, you're petty, regulus grovels, black brothers have poor people skills, make-up, background wolfstar and (judgemental) bsf!remus

"How long has she been like this?"

Sirius was eyeing Regulus funnily, seemingly drawn between wanting to laugh at him and wondering if maybe he should comfort him. Remus felt none of the latter sentiments and all of the former.

"Since our last class on Friday," Regulus replied miserably from where his face was buried in his hands, resting atop his knees. "She shifted immediately after."

"So... for over 24 hours," Sirius surmised.

That was apparently the wrong thing to say, based on how Regulus lifted his head from where he was practically bent in half, just to glare at his older brother. "Thanks for doing the maths, Sirius. Not the problem I needed solving, though." Throughout his sentence, his eyes increasingly narrowed at his brother as if his irritation grew with every word.

"No, your problem," Remus volleyed. "Is whatever the hell you've done."

Regulus groaned and buried his face once more.

Across the common room from the trio, a white and grey cat was pettily walking back and forth along whatever furniture it could reach. Its tail was standing up straight, whipping about in annoyance.

Remus poked Regulus in the ribs to get a response. "What'd you do, Baby Black?"

"I may or may not have corrected her in Potions in front of Slughorn, even though she may have been working on gaining his respect all term," Regulus murmured.

The chuckle that escaped Remus was finally one of understanding. "Ah," he said through a smile. "I believe that is what we in the business call a rookie mistake."

Regulus sat up with a jerk, hands moving emotively as he made his case to his brother and brother-in-law, where they were sat on top of each other in a plush chair. "But I've apologised! Profusely, and several times! I don't know what else to do?" The last sentence was voiced as a question, though it was not formulated as one. Perhaps the closest the younger Black brother could get to asking for help.

"Maybe you should give Slughorn a speech about how great she is."

Regulus quirked up at that, eyes zeroing in on Sirius. "You really think that would work?" Remus could have burst out laughing at the lack of sarcasm in the younger boy's voice.

"No," Remus said softly, while chidingly patting Sirius' knee. "Don't listen to him, you lot have the same amount of people skills. Do you know your girlfriend, Regulus?"

"Yes?" Regulus' voice was uncertain, looking between the boys with furrowed brows.

"What usually motivates her to hold a grudge?" Remus prompted then, ever patient.

He was quiet for a minute as he thought. "When she feels wronged. Like when Evan apologised for her 'interpretaion' of what he said instead of for him hurting her feelings, and she disliked him for three years."

Remus nodded solemnly. "And is there a reason she might still feel wronged by you now?"

Regulus' gaze finally fixated on the cat across the room, nodding too as the puzzle pieces slowly assembled in his mind. "I apologised for correcting her... but not embarrassing her. She probably feels like I was lording over her or something."

"Meaning..?" Gods, Remus was really laying it on thick here. The curse of the Black family.

"I should go tell her as much." Regulus nodded and moved to hurry over towards you, swinging around at the last minute to give the two boys an almost-smile. "Uh, thanks Sirius. Remus."

Then he was off.

Sirius turned his face into Remus' cheek. "No idea what he's thanking me for; you did all the talking."

Remus sighed, melting further into his boyfriend. "That's what I've been saying."

Regulus tenderly approached you, sitting down somewhat gingerly in a chair beside the table you were currently parading around. "Hi, amour," he said softly. "Can we talk?"

You just wagged your tail in response, in a fashion Regulus has come to learn means displeasure.

"Please love, I want to give you a proper apology. It would be best to do so face-to-face, no?" He reached his hand out towards you, an open invitation. You stopped for a moment to regard him, but then lightly slapped at his hand to get it out of your face. Regulus decided to take it as a victory that your claws were retracted at the very least – you weren't out for blood.

“Okay,” he said through a breath. “I guess I’ll just… talk to a kitten and look crazy.” Upon your quiet hiss, he amended, “Talk to a cat, sorry. Gods, I’m sputtering today, aren’t I?” That final part you seemed to agree upon at least.

“Amour, I am truly deeply sorry for embarrassing you like that. It was such a little thing, and Slughorn has been so unfair towards you this year. I didn't mean to set you back in your progression with him, though frankly, he is in the wrong there, not you. As am I. For someone who feels like he can go around correcting people, that was quite air-headed of me, yeah? The one person keeping me grounded is you, amour, please would you come back to me? You can give me a proper scolding if you’d like, I can take it.”

Regulus was pouring his heart out, and if he dared to hope, he thought your feline face might have softened. You walked closer to him, seemingly studying his face.

Then, you jumped off the table and ran away.

He sighed heavily, letting his forehead fall down to the table with a light thump. If you were going to keep giving him the furred shoulder, he might just stay here. It was hard work being a tosser who’s missing his girlfriend.

Before he could wallow further in his sorrows, he felt a soft hand be placed on his shoulder. A touch he would recognise anywhere.

His head flew up from the table to look up at you – standing above him, smiling softly and somewhat sheepishly. The hand on his shoulder grew bolder, squeezing, while the other came up to cup the side of his face. Regulus ignored any instinct to cower away and instead happily melted into your touch.

“Hi, baby,” you whispered, and he knew he was mostly forgiven.

Emboldened by this new development, he turned in his seat so that his body faced you, slotting you in between his thighs and letting his hands come to rest heavily at the top of your hip. “Hi amour,” he breathed out, reverent. “Thank you.”

“For what?” you laughed, and he knew you knew what. He indulged you anyway.

“Coming back to me.” His voice was murmured, eyes hooded as he stared up at you. “I miss you when you remain as Whiskers, you know?”

“I do know,” you teased. “That’s kind of the whole point, yeah? Make you think.”

He shook his head and leaned his forehead tentatively against your stomach. “A cruel punishment, but an understandable one. I truly am sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Regulus sighed when your hand migrated to scratch through his hair. “I know, baby. I just wanted to hear you say it. And–” at this point he could hear the blush in your voice “– at some point it just became principle. Too late to back out.”

Laughing against the fabric of your shirt, he moved to rest his chin against you, gazing up at you at an angle that was slightly uncomfortable but definitely worth it. He let a small grin slip. “Stubborn minx,” he whispered.

“Oi!” you chided gently. “You’re in no position to levy such accusations, mister.”

“I can’t imagine loving you more,” he said through a sigh, not even thinking over the words. They were just right, and demanded to be brought up.

If the way your body melted against his was anything to go by, you didn’t mind.

A booming voice cut the moment short. “You two are painfully dramatic,” Sirius yelled from across the room, clearly having paid attention to the whole make-up conversation. “Please never fight again.”

“And that’s coming from Sirius Black,” Remus added solemnly, earning himself an indignant swat from his partner.

“He’s right,” Regulus whispered conspiratorially to you. “I cannot be the most dramatic Black brother, that would be blasphemy.”

“Then I suggest,” you said before giving him a light peck, “you be on your best behaviour from now on.

A grin. “Yes ma’am.”

[octopiys]

Lost and Found

I. roll call and rainy nights

Next

Maybe Simon doesn't have any kids. Not yet at least. Maybe he doesn't know anyone we'll enough, or maybe he's not sure if he wants them in the first place.

But I'll tell you what.

Every time he goes on leave, without fail, he has an army of critters showing up to his house in the country. He never turns anything out to the streets, or to the cold night. The bottom of his pantry is stock full of dog and cat food. He's got three bird feeders in his back yard. There's four refillable water bowls by his garage.

The raccoons show up first without fail. They're named One and Deux, and they just recently had a baby named Tres. Hes pretty sure they live on his roof. He checked his cameras one night, after a long mission, and found them holding up Tres to the camera.

He didn't cry about that, what are you talking about?

Then the dogs show up. They're all mutts of varying sizes. One looks like some sort of lab, named Dog. Another is about the size of a pomeranian, but looks like a shaggy chihuahua. That's Barrow. He found her in his garden shed. She's got a mean bite, but a sweet face. The third is a big dog, almost the size of a Dane, but... not. He's not very smart. He's named barkmulch. Get it, cus- cus he barks- the fourth has gone unnamed. It's a furry little white thing, and it yaps at him a lot, nipping at his ankles anytime he enters the room. Behave, and it'll get a name.

There are a few cats that show up too. None of them have names except for one: Scraggle.

Scraggle is the ugliest fucking thing you can imagine. Scraggle is that shade of grey that white cats get when they're dirty, except you can't wash it off. The poor cat is missing patches of fur, and it seems permanent. It only has one eye. It's nose is flat, and gives it's face the illusion of a squished tomato. There's a scar going from it's whiskers, across it's nose and up to it's missing eye. Simon doesn't actually know what gender this cat is. It is only Scraggle.

Scraggle is also... very stupid, as far as cats go. It gets squished between the couch cushions, and yowls when Simon accidentally sits on him. How could he have seen him anyways? Scraggle screams when his food bowl is empty. Scraggle screams when everyone else's food bowls are empty. Scraggle screams when it manages to find it's way on top of the kitchen cabinets, and needs Simon's help to get down. Scraggle is a full time job when he's off duty.

Scraggle is his favorite.

He finds you in the rain.

Not nearly as run down as the rest of his animals, but just as lost.

Covered in scratches, blood, and muck, he finds you on the edge of his property, being screamed at by Scraggle, because it doesn't do much else.

Your clothes are torn, and you look a bit more haggard than you should. Wet, and cold, and hungry. Like you had missed a turn off the trails, or you were running away from them. From something.

You look up at him with wide eyes, but decide to trust him, to follow him like a lost creature, because he could not be worse than what you escaped from.

He makes soup. He gives you soup.

He's not the best conversationalist. He's not used to things he finds actually talking back to him in a language he can understand.

You tell him your name. He calls you Honey. You'll earn your name. Behave, you'll get it.

Scraggle is on thin ice with you. Attention stealer. Food giver. You get the cat down from places it shouldn't be. But Simon pays more attention to you than he does Scraggle. You fool. Scraggle is all. Scraggle is life.

You don't leave, much like the other things he feeds. You make yourself useful, because you're afraid of being turned out. If you're useful, then nothing will happen. And you go to bed every night warm with a full belly.

You're just another lost thing he's taken in. You don't leave when he disappears. You know he'll come back. He always does.

And he watches the cameras, while he's on a mission. He watches you diligently fill the bowls, the bird feeders, the waters, the bath. You trot out to the fish pond, and throw handfuls of feed out in the early hours of the night. Then you make your way back through the tall grass, and into the house.

Scraggle screams. You feed it too, and then pick it up. And carry it around like it's a little baby.

Hm. Maybe....

You were a sweet like honey, a pretty little thing. You weren't lost anymore. He'd found you, you're his now.

He'll take care of you.

Scraggle agrees. Scraggle likes you too.

masterlist

[nurse-floyd]

Muis

Just a little fic that came from talking about max and kittens with @vivwritesfics

Max finds a tiny kitten at the Red Bull garage.

They’re packing up for the day, his media duties were done and he’d had a good qualifying round ready for the GP the next day. He groaned as he made his way to his car realising he’d forgotten one of his jackets back at the Red Bull garage. He knew he could have done without it but he’s glad he did go back for it.

Max thinks he imagines it at first above the noise of his team packing up for the day, the small high pitched squeak. Maybe he’s just missing Jimmy and Sassy too much. But then he hears it again, another squeak, this time longer.

“Shh,” he puts his finger on his lips, motioning for the noise to stop. His team stops, looking at each other in confusion as Max follows the sound.

“It’s probably just mice or something,” one of them tried but Max still followed the noise. He practically throws himself on the floor trying to get a look under one of the mechanics tool cabinets when he spots a small scruffy looking grey kitten.

He makes a small kissing noise, slowly inching his hand forward to gain the small cat's trust.

“It’s okay…you’re okay schatje. I’m not going to hurt you.”

He makes a few more kissing noises and lets the kittens whiskers tickle his hand as it sniffs at his fingers, deciding whether or not to trust this giant who’d just invaded it’s hiding spot.

The kitten inches forward and gets closer when Max finally manages to coax the small creature from out under the cabinet he scoops it into his lap, still sitting on the ground as he checks it over. Turns out the cat isn’t grey, it’s just a very dirty and scruffy tan cat covered in a lot of dust.

“Where did you come from?” He can’t help but nuzzle the cats face, eliciting tiny purrs from the creature as it rubs itself against the side of his slightly stubbled cheek.

He hears a few ‘awws’ as the last of his team see the tinny cat in his arms.

“What are we going to do with you, hmm? Litttle Muis.”

He thought the name was fitting considering the high pitch tone of its squeaks.

He knows he can’t leave it out here on its own, it wasn’t safe and he surely wasn’t just going to leave it on the streets. If he was being honest with himself, he knew as soon as he laid eyes on the scruffy little thing, nothing like his gorgeous bengals at home, that this kitten was coming home with him.

He scratched under its chin, and the kitten was putty in his hands and practically melted into his lap. When he stopped the kitten let out another high pitched and very angry meow at the loss of contact.

“I’m sorry, Muis. Did I stop? Were you enjoying that?”

The kitten closed its eyes in content as Max continued scratching its cheeks and under its chin.

“Well then, Muis. I have two very special cats that I think you need to meet when we get back home.”

[hazbinshusk]

“Y’know, I’m startin’ to think the Princess was right about puttin’ in a limit on the drinks,” Husk’s smooth baritone had a humorous lilt to it as he breaks the silence in the bar. His speaking brings you back to the right side of the line of consciousness you’ve been see-sawing for the last twenty minutes, and you frown as you tilt your head back to meet his eye. “You good?”

You groan quietly, leaning an elbow on the bar and dropping your cheek heavily into your hand. You’re aware that you’ve been less than good company the last few hours, but Husk hasn’t really seemed to mind. In fact, you could almost swear that he was… content with you, even maybe happy to just experience the quiet with you sitting on the other side of the bar. Still, you straighten, raising an eyebrow at him teasingly. “Why’re you asking? Don’t I look good?”

He blinks at you before a rueful smirk touches your features. “Get enough bourbon into you and you start takin’ a page right outta Angel’s playbook, huh?”

You smile crookedly back up at him. “Is that a ‘no’?”

You swear that Husk’s eyes dip down over your figure for a moment. You could also swear that his gaze lingers for a second longer on your chest and that his cheeks pinken slightly as he meets your eye again. “Pleadin’ the fifth, sweets.”

Smile widening into something sweeter, you straighten in your seat, leaning towards him on your elbows. “Uh-huh. Sure.”

He gives you a small, almost bashful smile of his own, slinging the bar rag over his shoulder. “You wanna talk ‘bout whatever’s got you down?”

You shrug a shoulder, running a finger around the rim of your empty glass. “Don’t you ever get sick of listening to everyone else’s problems?”

“Every damn day,” he smirks, and you giggle. The expression warms his face further at the sound, his ears flicking forward as though to catch every part of it. “It’s a hazard of the job. But I’ve been holdin’ the title of resident lush here for a while now, and I’m worried you’re gonna go and dethrone me."

You laugh again, pushing your glass towards him hopefully. “Speaking of…?”

Husk’s golden eyes study you for a moment, taking in the almost playful pout you give him before he gives a relenting sigh. “One more. But only if you chase it with water.”

“You drive a hard bargain, bartender.” you reply. “But I’m a fancy gal – I’m gonna need a lemon wedge.”

He chuckles, rolling his eyes good-naturedly as he turns to reach for the bourbon bottle. You rest your chin back in your hand, admiring the sleekness of his wings idly, the shine in his fur and the muscles in his shoulders. He catches you staring as he returns to pour you a fresh glass, raising an eyebrow at your expression.

“Anyone ever tell you how pretty you are?”

Husk makes a soft cattish noise of surprise in the back of his throat. That pink in his cheeks reappears before he scoffs, sliding your drink back towards himself again. “Well, now you’re cut off.”

“No!” you pout as he swallows down the two fingers he’d poured you and sets the glass back on the bar. “But I’m serious!”

“You’re drunk.”

“I can be both,” you shoot back petulantly, and he gives you a sidelong, almost tired look. He’s leaning on the bar now, the position bringing the two of you closer together. You study the greying whiskers around his muzzle, the sweet little hearts above his brows, and your tone softens. “D’you think I would lie to you?”

“This is hell, doll,” he replies softly, a self-deprecating tilt to his lips. “Everybody lies.”

Your brow furrows, and maybe it’s the bourbon that makes you do it, or maybe it’s the soft warmth in his eyes, or the way they burn into yours. Maybe it’s way he’s kept you company without complaint all night. Or maybe it’s just… him, but you lean forward over the bar and press your lips to his cheek in a soft, chaste kiss.

Husk lets out a quiet mrrp! at the touch, and you exhale your nerves shakily as you withdraw slowly. “Believe me now?”

You meet Husk’s wide, surprised eyes for a second before you suddenly feel his hand on the back of your neck and you’re pulled into a crushing kiss.

[alessiasfreckles]

fasching (georgia stanway x reader)

you've had a crush on georgia for a few months after meeting her at a party in munich. now it's fasching, and you're determined to show her the intricacies of the german holiday - i.e. getting drunk.

warnings: alcohol, fluff

a/n: wanted to write something about georgia and fasching/karneval since, y'know, it's fasching (which is a german holiday at the start of lent where everyone wears costumes and gets drunk, basically)! short and sweet x

----

“Well, can I just wear the dirndl I wore for Oktoberfest again?” Georgia asked, frowning. 

“No!” you exclaimed. “You need a real costume.”

“What if my costume is an FC Bayern footballer?” she grinned.

“That’s not a real costume. Or at least, it would be if it wasn’t just basically your work uniform,” you said, rolling your eyes. You got out your phone and started swiping through pictures. “Look, one year I went as a cat. Oh, this is when I went as a clown- but, like, a sexy clown. Ugh, this one year we walked in the parade with my grandad’s political party and they were going as sewage workers for some reason? I was like, 13. I was so embarrassed.”

“So it’s basically like Halloween except with a parade,” Georgia said, an eyebrow raised.

You shrugged. “Kind of, but don’t let anyone hear you say that. Germans take Fasching very seriously. Oh, and if anyone tries to tell you it’s called Karneval, ignore them. It’s Fasching.”

“Right,” she nodded slowly, arms folded. “I still don’t really get the point.”

“Do Germans really need an excuse to get drunk and party?” you asked with a grin, and the English player laughed. “Nah, I think it’s to do with lent, but no one really cares about the origins.”

“Oh, like pancake day!” she said, brightening up.

“Oh! Yeah, I guess. I forgot about pancake day,” you shrugged.

“How could you forget about pancake day? It’s the best holiday.”

“English holidays are weird.”

She hummed. “So, what are you going to go as this year?”

You thought for a minute. “I’m not sure yet. Usually it’s something sexy, because if you can’t pick up girls at Fasching when can you, you know?” you said, not meeting Georgia’s eye. You’d had a crush on her since the two of you had met at a party a few months ago. You had hit it off instantly. Since you were half English and had lived there as a child, and she was new in Munich, meeting another English person felt like a breath of fresh air. 

She laughed, cheeks tinged pink. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. What d’you think I should go as?”

“Hmm,” you tapped a finger to your chin, eyeing the footballer. “Well, it depends. Do you want to be hot or funny?” 

Now her cheeks were bright red. “Uh, I dunno,” she said, laughing nervously. 

“Well, we could do a costume together, if you want. That’s a little more fun than just by yourself,” you suggested, and she nodded eagerly. 

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

By the time Georgia found you at the parade, you’d already had a drink or two and were decidedly on your way to feeling tipsy. 

She saw your costume before she saw you. The two of you had spent a while deliberating on what to wear, going back and forth between ideas, before finally settling on Tom and Jerry. You were going as Jerry (although you felt more like Karen from Mean Girls), wearing a grey dress and mouse ears, and Georgia was wearing a cat onesie, with a nose and whiskers painted on her face. 

Seeing your mouse ears from across the busy street, she hurried over to where you were waiting with your friends. 

“Gee!” you exclaimed when you saw her, pulling her into a hug. “Hi!”

“Hey!” she said, cheeks pink, and nodded to your friends, who were all eyeing her curiously.

“Aha, also sie ist die Fußballerin, in der du schon seit Monaten verknallt bist?” one of your friends said, looking Georgia up and down.

“Klappe!” you said, glaring at her. 

“Was? Sie spricht doch eh kein Deutsch, oder?” the friend asked. 

Georgia wasn’t sure what you and your friends were talking about. All she really picked up was ‘Fußballerin’ and ‘Deutsch’, so she figured it was about her. Feeling awkward, she tapped your arm. 

“Hey, um, I can head out if you want to hang out with your friends a bit,” she suggested, making your heart drop.

“No, no!” you insisted. “They’re being rude. I’d rather hang out with you anyway. I’ve been to plenty of Faschings with them before, this is your first one! Come on, let’s go. Tschüss, Leute.”

Your friends whooped and whistled as you left, making you roll your eyes. 

“Sorry about them. I swear they’re really nice, usually. They’re just protective of me,” you explained. “And I’m sorry about the German - they do speak English, it was rude of them not to.”

“Protective of you? Do they see me as a threat?” Georgia laughed.

You shrugged, cheeks pink, not wanting to say that they knew about your huge crush on the footballer. As you headed into a big square filled with people, you quickly changed the subject.

“Okay, so, rule number 1 of Fasching: bring your own drinks,” you told her, pulling a bottle of premixed juice and vodka out of your bag. “There’s places you can buy them, but they’re always super expensive and watered down.”

Georgia nodded seriously, listening intently. “I’m not really meant to be drinking, but I think I can make an exception today,” she admitted, smiling. “At least, I know a lot of the other girls are. I didn’t bring anything with me, though.”

“That’s okay!” you said brightly. “You can share mine. Rule number 2 is don’t get lost. There’s so many people that it fucks with the phone signal, making it impossible to contact people if you get separated.”

She bit her lip, frowning, and you took her hand in yours. “Just keep holding my hand and we’ll be fine!” you said with a grin. Normally you wouldn’t just take her hand like that, but the drinks you’d had were starting to take some effect, giving you a confidence boost. 

“Okay,” she laughed, blush rising to her cheeks. “Any other rules?”

“Hmm, not that I can think of,” you said, “Just let me know if it’s too much, okay? I know it’s a lot of people.”

You squeezed her hand and she nodded, taking the bottle from you and taking a swig. You cheered her on, and when she gave you the bottle back you took a drink as well, trying not to think about the fact that your lips were where hers had just been. 

“Ready?” you asked, eyes sparkling.

“Ready.” 

-----------

2 hours later, you were well and truly drunk, and Georgia wasn’t far behind you. You had watched the parade for a while before getting bored and wandering around together, giggling about people’s costume choices. After an hour of trying to squeeze through the masses of people, you decided to cut through some back alleys, and had ended up staying in one of them, drinking and talking.

“Usually I don’t really like Fasching,” you admitted, hopping up to sit on a brick wall and swaying slightly, holding out your hands to steady yourself. “Woah.”

“Careful,” Georgia giggled, putting her hands on your waist to help ground you. “Why not?”

“Too many people,” you said, voice slurred, waving a hand towards the noise of the parade, which you could hear streets away. “Too loud.”

“That’s fair,” she nodded. “I don’t really like crowds either.”

“What!” you exclaimed. “Why did you come with me then? I wouldn’t have taken you if I’d known. Fasching is awful if you don’t like crowds.”

“Because you asked me to,” she said simply, smiling at you. “It’s not so bad with you.”

“No?” you asked, blushing. You realised Georgia was stood between your legs, her hands still on your waist from steadying you, making your heart flutter. 

“Nah,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s, I dunno, easier with you.”

You smiled widely at that, taking another drink from the nearly empty bottle to try and hide how hard you were blushing. 

“Hey, what was your friend saying, before?” she asked, wondering whether you were drunk enough to tell her.

“Oh, that,” you said, rolling your eyes, any kind of filter you had gone. “She was asking if you’re the footballer I’ve had a crush on for months.”

You clapped your hands over your mouth when you realised what you’d said. Georgia’s eyebrows were raised, a look of surprise on her face that was quickly replaced by a teasing smile.

“And, am I?” she asked, hands tightening a little on your waist. 

You swallowed, trying to think of something clever to say, but the alcohol was making it hard, especially when all you could really think about was the feeling of her hands on your waist and the fact that she was stood between your legs, close enough to kiss you. 

“Maybe,” you said, biting your lip. 

“Oh, just maybe?” she asked, all the alcohol giving her a boost of confidence. She watched your eyes flit from her eyes to her mouth and back, and leant forward slightly. 

You nodded shakily, heart racing as she leant towards you. She paused just short of your face, giving you space to back away if you wanted to, but you leant in enthusiastically, your lips meeting hers. 

You were a little too enthusiastic, your mouths bumping into each other, making you both giggle and pull away. Georgia was undeterred, and cupped your face with one hand, steadying you, before leaning in to kiss you. 

She tasted sweet, like fruit juice and alcohol, her soft lips perfectly melding against yours. You gasped when her tongue swiped against your bottom lip, and she took the opportunity to kiss you deeper, the hand that was still on your waist moving to your back to pull you closer. You wrapped your arms around her shoulders, jumping when you felt the soft onesie. 

She leant back. “You okay?” 

“Yeah, I just forgot about the onesie,” you admitted with a laugh. “Wasn’t expecting it.”

“You mean, the cat costume isn’t doing it for you?” she asked with a wink, and you wrinkled your nose. 

“I mean, the costume is cute and all, but if I’m honest, I think you’re the one doing it for me. After all, you are the footballer I have a crush on.” you said, making the brunette blush. The painted on nose and whiskers were smudged slightly from your kiss, and you giggled at the sight of her. 

“What?” she asked. “Is there something on my face?”

“Nah,” you shook your head, and pulled her in for another kiss.

[fanaticsnail]

Imagine trafalgar law putting his hat on his shy, vulnerable s/o that's riding him for the first time. Barely being able to take it and sobbing in both ecstacy and frustration, the size and situation in general being way too much to take. His s/o was very sensitive and shy in general so i guess hes getting a good show🤷‍♀️

Don't Be So Shy

Word Count: 1,428 (lol this was meant to be a lil drabble. Whoops.)

Masterlist here

Collab with @sordidmusings because I couldn't think of words. A saint, lady and a scholar.

Warnings: Afab!Reader, no plot, shy reader, Law is a little bit of a sub-leaning switch, smut, mdni

A whimper was pulled from within your throat as you shakily drew down your hand to circle the base of his shaft. You drew his length upwards, collecting the slick trail of arousal from between your legs and took your bottom lip between your teeth. 

Trafalgar D Water Law lay back, watching intently as his hands laced behind his head. He focussed his yellow-grey irises on you, jaw hanging slightly slack as his pupils blew with lust and desire. His hat was firmly attached to his head, hands cradling the cotton material within his palms. 

You slowly drew the tip of his throbbing cock against your entrance, your lips automatically parting at the contact as you began to take him in. Your eyes were clenched shut, wincing as you stretched to accommodate just the initial inch within your core. 

“I know you’re staring at me. S-Stop it,” you lightly reprimanded him, trying to sound firm but only able to whimper for him. A small chuckle erupted from within his throat, his body shifting beneath you as he leant up on his forearms. His torso elevated, prompting you to unintentionally take more of his length within your walls. You winced at the intrusion, mewling briefly as you adjusted to the further stretch. Law moaned at the sight of him pushing more arousal from you, enraptured as it dripped from you and down his shaft. He looked back up to the timid expression on your flushed face.

“If me seeking out your beautiful eyes while you ride me is such an issue for you-,” you felt the firm touch of material being thrust atop your head. The broad brim of the bill of his spotted hat covered your eyes, automatically bringing you comfort to hide your expressions from your lover between your thighs.

“-Although I do adore watching your face when you take me,” He cooed up at you, ghosting his hands over your breasts as he traced patterns into your sensitive flesh, “-I know how shy you get.” A warm envelopment of heat drew its way up to your cheeks, prompting you to elevate your hands to draw the brim of the hat down further atop your head to conceal more of yourself from Law. “Just think of this as practice for when you can look me in the eyes while I fuck you.”

A small frustrated sob fell from your lips as you splayed your hands over his tattooed chest, inching your way further down his girthy shaft. You felt every curve, every veiny ridge of his twitching, solid cock as he lay perfectly still for you to impale yourself with everything he had. 

As the hat concealed your eyes from his, Law allowed himself a small break of his stoic demeanor; expressing his lust over his own face. His brows contorted in a deep, focussed frown; his jaw clenching tightly with his whiskered chin protruding at every slow and calculated gyration you circled atop him. He stifled a growl from releasing within his throat, instead expressing his lust through his eyes rolling backwards into his skull. 

It was taking everything in him to contain himself, to withhold the urge to flip you and pin you against the bed and bring both yourself and him to climax at a hastened pace. His greatest joy of late was watching you unravel beneath him; your cries and whimpers serenading him with their melody as they graced his ears, and tempted him further and further from sanity. His cock twitched hard at the thought, rising a choked mewl in your throat as you finally took his impressive length fully into you. 

Your walls fluttered, strangling Law with your tightness as you adjusted. Feeling completely full with him within you; you tested a small circling sway of your hips against him. The curled hair above his shaft brushed your clit, causing another sobbed cry to release from your parted lips. Feeling more secure with his hat covering your eyes, you felt no need to withhold your movements and sensitive responses with your cries of pleasure.

Law was hypnotized. As statuesque as a victim falling before medusa, he continued to stare his glazed eyes up at you as you rode him. Each movement pulled a whimper and mewl from you as you thrusted, circled and ground yourself against him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you, entranced by you chasing your ecstasy; using his body to seek out your own pleasure. 

Exhaustion began to overtake you in your chase, feeling overwhelmed with how your body adjusted to him and frustrated at his lack of movement below you. You panted and huffed as you continued to ride him, reaching blindly out to find Law’s wrists and claim them within your circular grasp. You pinned them above his head and blindly collapsed down onto him, breasts brushing against tattooed pectorals as you allowed a gasp to release from your parted lips. 

He opened his mouth, his words forming within his fraying mind but refused to depart from his throat and tongue for fear he’d break you away from your trance. As you pressed yourself down against him further, pinning his arms against the pillows and stabilizing yourself above him, he couldn’t help but allow a choked gasp to flee from his lips onto you. 

At that soft whisper of emotion, you halted your ride, releasing his left hand from your right and pulled his hat up to reveal your eyes to his while remaining fully sheathed atop him. As your eyes met, you tested a small rise of your hips and roughly sat back down atop him. His eyes widened, his breath hitching as you descended back with unbroken eye contact. He took his left hand and placed it on your hip, soothing over the flesh and massaging with his skilled, tattooed fingers. 

“Do you think-,” you began, your voice soft and apprehensive as your brows drew down in concentration, “-Can you move a little?” Law chuckled as you released his right wrist from your grasp and placed your left hand beside his head. 

“But you’re riding me so well,” he praised you, caressing your cheek briefly before mirroring his left hand by placing his right on your other hip. 

“Law,” you poured his name from your lips in a whined moan, feeling the coil begin to wind tighter within your abdomen. The tingle in your toes had already started to elevate up to your knees, your thighs shuddering as your soaking walls began to flutter and shudder against him. 

“Don’t ask me,” he groaned up at you, refusing to aid you both in chasing your highs. He wanted you to take charge. He needed you to direct him. He didn’t want to think, he didn’t want to assume. He wanted you to lead him.

“Law,” you stated more firmly, dragging yourself up to take just his glistening tip and holding it firmly within your entrance, “Move.”

At that firm direction, both of your bodies began to move in perfect synchrony. The slapping of hips meeting hips; the lewd sounds of your arousal sucking him into your walls, and the mutual cries of bliss had you both chasing the end. 

With Law’s hat firmly clutched to your head, and his hands dragging your hips up and down his lengthy shaft; the tunnel began to reveal it’s whitened bliss as the band wound ever tighter. The small and unrelenting bob of his cock within you, and the noisy calls of your stuttered name flew from Law’s lips as he shot ropes of his thick release within you. The sticky backsplash of his cum danced with your slick arousal as his staggered movements beneath you continued to spur you further on to find your own release. 

“Y-You feel s-so good like this,” He groaned into you, overstimulating himself while continuing to sing your praises up to you. At his voiced affirmations, you mewled and sobbed through your intense orgasm. Your walls squeezed and pulsed against his deflating shaft, pulling a feral groan from him as you cried his name. 

Law released your left hip from his right hand, drawing his inked digits to rest atop your hat-adorned head. This small gesture had a small flushed heat rise to tint your cheeks, alongside his.

“Don’t be so shy,” he huffed, a smile plastered against his lips. His hand stroked down from his hat to cradle your cheek; forcing your eyes to meet as he gestured up with his chin to your head, “It looks better on you.”

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

NEXT STOP: HUMAN WORLD!!!

Hazbins Visit The Zoo!

Angel: *dressed in as flamboyant gay clothing as he can, swiping his dirty blonde hair back, and sucking on a lollipop* How the fuck did Charlie get Lucifer to agree to this?

Vaggie: *brushes her dark brown bangs to the side as she checks her tanned reflection in her phone's camera* I honestly have no idea. But you gotta admit that this is at least interesting. Even with the human disguises.

Husk: *looking like a stereotypical bartender in a high class bar with a white button up, black slacks, suspenders, black hair with white and grey black beard with a grey stripe going down the right side of his chin and olive skin tone* Okay, but why did she want to bring us to a fucking zoo???

Vaggie: What? Dont like being around the other bears? *watches as a blonde haired, blue-eyed Charlie rushes around with a pack of children on a field trip through the zoo* She liked the zoo in Heaven, apparently.

Alastor: *still wearing a red suit, light brown skin, dark brown hair, and sporting his usual smile* Hmmmm.... I wonder if the elk enclosure is open.

Vaggie: Alastor, no! No hunting the captive wildlife.

Alastor: Then perhaps the alligators. I have missed seeing their shining eyes from the bayou.

Hazbins: *slowly enter the Safari exhibit*

Angel: Hey, Husk! Look! It's the King of the Jungle! *points to one of the two male lions laying lazily in the exhibit amongst a pride of females*

Husk: Hmph.... lazy bastard's more like it.

Angel: Awwww, don't worry, Whiskers. You'll always be the king of MY jungle~ *gives a little kitty claw in the air* RRRRRawr!~

Random Mother: *covers her child's eyes and carries them away*

Vaggie: Ugh!.... *rolls her eye so hard that it nearly disconnects from her skull* Angel, can you be a little less horny right now? We're in a family friendly venue- *looks around* Where did Charlie go?

Kid: Mommy! Mommy! Look! *points down into the lion enclosure* There’s a girl in there!

Vaggie: *groans* Oh.... no.... *peeks into the enclosure and plasters her hands on the concrete wall* CHARLIE!!!!!

Charlie: *giggling as she gives belly rubs to the second male lion laying on its back* Vaggie! He's so soft!!!

Male Lion: *grumbles happily as it brings its paws up and cuddles Charlie to his chest, giving her licks*

Charlie: *laughs* And cuddly!

Vaggie: *jaw drops as she watches the rest of the lions all flock to Charlie for scritches and kisses*

Angel: *taking a video while playing "The Lion Sleeps Tonight" by the Tokens on his phone* I stand corrected. CHARLIE'S the Queen of the jungle.

Vaggie: *pinches the bridge of her nose* Shut up, Angel.

Charlie: *giggling and giving scratches and nose kisses to all the lions in the enclosure.*

[the-traveling-poet]

Jealous? Really?

Even after dating Levi for a bit of time now, he could still surprise you in the oddest, albeit silliest, of ways. One of which, apparently, included jealousy over your beloved plushies…

Pairing: Modern!Levi Ackerman x Gn!Reader, established relationship

Warnings: SWF, light humor, fluff, modern AU ish

A/N: Okay so I had this crack-drabble idea a few mins ago looking at the squishmallow on my bed, no you can’t judge cause it’s based off a true stuffed toy I own. I’m so close to finishing some fic chapters but needed a rest-

~More Levi Ackerman content in my masterlists~

(Picture for squishmallow proof below ⬇️)

“That thing? Again?”

Looking up, you met Levi’s stern eye. He looked almost defeated, behind that mask of indifference and slight annoyance tinting his grey eyed gaze.

He sat beside you, previously unbothered. It was a lazy day; a day to lounge around together in bed before responsibility once again called you into work. Looking over at him, you observed the way he stared at you, almost curiously.

“…What thing?” You hummed, raising a brow.

“That- that thing. What’s it supposed to be, a bear?” he murmured, tilting his head downwards to shoot a glare at the soft object you held close to your chest.

Following his hardened gaze, you glanced down at the stuffed animal in your arms, cradled close against you in a sort of comforting, although absentminded, way.

“He’s an Otter, thank you. And he has a name.”

You huffed, looking down at the squishmallow tucked tightly to your chest.

“A name? It’s a plushie. Why does it need a name?” Levi grunted, adjusting his seated position as he huffed.

“The Egyptians believed it quite important that anything of significant value be named to be properly addressed. I name everything that holds meaning to me.” You stuck out your tongue after speaking, noting his deadpan expression down at your lap. He didn’t look entirely thrilled.

Sighing, Levi leaned back on the bed, arms behind his head and legs stretched out across the plush mattress. He looked first from your insistent gaze then down to the squished plushie in your arms, closing his eyes with a scoff as he finally gave in.

“Fine, fine…Egyptians and names and all that shit. What’s that thing’s name?”

“His name is Stevert,” You proclaimed proudly.

“…Stevert? That’s not a name.”

“It’s his name.”

“His? That’s a he?”

“Why wouldn’t he be? He can be whatever he likes to be.”

“I can respect that, of course. But why ‘Stevert’? Why not something like…I dunno…Mr. Cuddles or like…James?”

“James?” You burst out laughing, holding the squishmallow out in front of you to gaze into his little sewn-in eyes and cute little stitched whiskers.

“He is far from a James. Look at him! I think Stevert suits him well.” You replied smugly, shoving the pushie near his face to make him really examine it.

Huffing with a faux frown, he begrudgingly takes the squishmallow from your outstretched arms. Eyeing it over a couple of times, he peers back up at you from overtop the stuffed animal’s head. Though his eyes were still narrowed, you could read a faint sort of amusement glinting in his eyes.

“Stevert the otter…Hmph…” he huffed, turning the soft toy this way and that. Pursed lips and a slightly tilted head, he regarded it curiously once more.

“You cuddle this thing to death. Its stitching is frayed.”

“Well, he’s well loved,” you hummed, reaching out to take the plushie back from him. But, oddly enough, he didn’t hand it over. Instead, he set it in his own lap, experimentally wrapping his arms around the smaller pillow.

Both surprised and a little caught off guard, you lowered your arms and just stared at him. He was…cuddling your squishmallow…?

“…I can tell, for as worn as this thing is from your constant cuddles,” Levi mumbled, staring down at the plushie, not letting it go just yet. But eventually he tore his gaze away to find yours again, and raised a brow.

“…Why don’t you cuddle me like this?”

His question stunned you for a moment, before your shoulders shook with restrained laughter.

“You want me to hold you the way I hold my old plushy?” You managed to speak without giving away the laugh bubbling up in your throat. He caught it though, and didn’t look too amused.

“Yes,” he stated indignantly, setting Stevert down right between them on the bed.

“What’s so wrong with that? I want to be loved like Stevert.”

“…Are you jealous?” you chuckled, half cooing over the adorable display.

His cheeks reddened, and he turned his gaze away in a vain attempt at hiding the sight from you.

“As if I could be jealous over a stuffed otter ridiculously named ‘Stevert’…Even if it gets all your affection-“

“Oh my god Levi,” you cut him off, gently setting the beloved toy aside to scoot closer to him.

“C’mere…I’ll hold my jealous baby.”

For more Levi Ackerman content, feel free to check out my other masterlists here! (Also here’s Stevert, my Otter Squishmallow. I had him ‘famous’ on tiktok between online friends as an inside joke for a short time :3)

[dontbelasagnax]

little longer than a drabble tatooine husbands drabble 🫶

"You know what your problem is?" If anyone else said this to Cody, he'd break their arm. However it's Obi-Wan. And he happens to deliver it with adoration and hearts dancing in his eyes. 

"What," Cody says in a drawl drier than the hottest day on this Force-forsaken scorched dustball of a planet. 

"You worry entirely too much, my dear."

Cody looks at him. It's a long look. One that ferments the longer it goes. "Right." 

"Mhm." He sounds so satisfied as he moseys into Cody's personal space that hasn't belonged to only himself in a considerable amount of time. "I believe I have the facilities to ease such a predicament."

Cody lets himself be nudged to lean against their kitchen counter. His hands find the soft woven tunic around Obi-Wan's unbelted waist. He'll allow himself to be distracted for this; if he's correct about where this is going. "You do?"

This close together, the wrinkles of Obi-Wan's face blur. "Yes," he says and warm lips meet Cody's. 

Cody's eyes fall shut. His husband has a gift because, yeah, the soft, insistent press of his body wipes the thoughts from Cody's mind. Easy as anything he gets lost in kiss after kiss. A thumb rubs warm, tantalizing circles just under the hem of his hastily thrown-on top. 

When Obi-Wan pulls away, Cody follows. Whiskers nuzzle his cheek instead. Words spoken are a quiet reassuring balm he would never ask for. "Rooh and the banthas are fine. They've likely wandered to graze." That in itself does not bode well but Obi-Wan continues, "No, the local Tusken tribe won't go back on their word and do anything untoward to the dears. They're more likely to return them to us. Our girls are just fine."

Cody exhales long and slow. He noses in closer as the tension releases from his body. A warm embrace. 

"Okay?" asks Obi-Wan. Both his hands are under Cody's shirt now, rubbing up his back. 

"Yeah." 

He feels Obi-Wan smile against his cheek. "Now then," lips purse and lightly kiss him, "come back to bed. By the time I'm done with you the girls will have returned and the Lars will be expecting us for lunch."

Cody follows Obi-Wan back to their rumpled bed, fighting back a smile. When his back meets the mattress and he has a lapful of Obi-Wan he lets it melt away into the joy of life thrumming through his blood. 

It's not always like this. They have their moods. The days when the past echoes too loud in the quiet of the desert. But he's here. He's alive. His joints ache and his hair is threaded with more grey than black these days. And, against all odds, Obi-Wan's here with his own hands worn with age that fit perfectly in Cody's.

The first sun starts to creep up over the horizon, filtering in through a slatted window, and Cody mind blurs to enjoy their lazy early morning lovemaking.

[livlaughloveluke]

𝐬𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫- 𝐞.𝐥

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your usually bright and bubbly self snaps when you hear people talking bad about your boyfriend

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: cursing, one slap LMAO 😥, people are very mean in this :(

(loosely) based off this request: Just dorky shy ethan x sweet bubbly (maybe popular??) reader from @wonderstruck4llthew4yhome

𝐚/𝐧: two posts within the same day?!? also i only kinda followed the request but i think its similar! hope you guys like this one! 💘

you had just finished drawing a nose and whiskers with bright eyeshadow, when your phone lit up. you picked your it up, to see that ethan had texted you. you smiled and unlocked your phone to open the message.

ethan 💗

hey im omw

ill be there in 10 

                                                                         you

                                                          okay!! ily! 💘

ethan 💗

love you too ❤️

you and ethan were walking together to some frat party for halloween. a couple of your friends begged you to go, however you knew ethan wasn’t the most comfortable at parties. 

you asked him one afternoon if he was up to it, making sure to emphasize that it was okay if he didn’t want to go, and that you would be happy to stay home and watch movies all night if thats what he wanted.

ethan wanted to be supportive, so he said he didn’t mind going, which was a complete lie. but seeing the smile on your face when he agreed was totally worth it. 

you and ethan decided to be characters from ratatouille. you were the remi, and he was chef linguini. you took a more sexy approach, with a grey corset and mini skirt, while he dressed a little more modest, with jeans and an apron. 

you carefully put on the headband with little mouse ears attached to it, and your costume was complete. shortly after, you heard knocking. you left your room and headed to let ethan in. 

you giggled at the sight of his costume, and went to plant a kiss on his lips. he kissed you back, his face now a shade of red. 

“you looks so cute!” you say, grinning widely. ethan compliments your outfit, and you head off the party.

you interlock hands with him on the short walk, your arms swinging with every step. you heard the house from down the street, the typical frat party music blaring loudly. 

you enter the rowdy estate, and immediately see some of your friends. you rush over to them, dragging ethan along with you. you let go of his hand to hug your friends, which left him standing their awkwardly. 

you decide to go find some drinks, and invite ethan to follow you. however, on your way to the kitchen, the crowd separates you and him. 

when you find the drinks, you realize ethan wasn’t with you anymore. you reach the keg and fill up a red solo cup, trying to be quick so you could find him again. you search for a soda in the alcohol filled kitchen, knowing ethan wasn’t a big drinker.

while opening all of the cabinets, looking for anything that wasn’t spiked, a man around your age walked up to you.

“what are you? a mouse?” he asks, trying to start a conversation.

“remi the rat actually, im matching with my boyfriend.” you say, trying to politely express your disinterest while still searching for a damn soda. 

“whatcha looking for?” he continues to pester you, despite your previous comment.

“a soda, for my boyfriend.” you make sure to accentuate the boyfriend part, hoping he would take the hint. 

he opens a cabinet and hands you a sprite. 

“uhm thanks i guess.” you reply, and turned to walk away. the strange man grabbed you by the wrist, turned you around, and pulled you closer to him.

“he doesn’t have to know.” he whispers maliciously. 

you yank your arm away from him, and take off the other way. you tried your best not to make a scene, hoping that you could leave that all behind you and have a good time. 

he seemed to leave you alone after that whole ordeal, and you searched around the house for ethan. you eventually spotted him in the corner alone, scrolling through his phone. 

a wave of guilt washed over you. you should have been able to tell that he was lying when he said he wanted to come. 

you rush over, and apologize for leaving him. 

“im so sorry eth, we can go home if you want.” 

ethan saw the look of disappointment in your eyes, and he couldn’t bear to make you leave.

“it’s fine, really. I don’t mind. can you stay with me, please?” ethan asked. 

“of course, baby.” you replied, handing him the soda. “i know you don’t like drinking, so i found a soda for you!! all i could find was sprite, although i know your favorite is coke.” you say.

ethan smiled at your caring personality. how did he pull you? you were drop dead gorgeous and extremely popular, and he was well, just ethan. 

a loser, friendless, and a nobody were all words people used to describe him. you however, made him feel the opposite.

with you, he was someone. he could be himself around you, and make the stupid dad jokes that he was scared to say around other people in fear of being judged. 

just then, someone shouted your name from across the room. you grabbed ethans hand and interlocked your fingers once again, making sure he stayed by your side this time.

you pulled him over to a group of people, all of which he was unfamiliar with. you greeted all of them with a smile, and started catching up with them.

“your costume is so cute!” said one of the girls you were having a conversation with. 

“thanks!! ethan helped pick out most of it!” you reply back, leaning your head on his shoulder and smiling.

what you seemed to miss was the nasty glares they gave ethan. 

“is he uhm.. your boyfriend?” another girl from the group asked. what you didn’t miss was the tone she used. it was like she was ridiculing him, and for what? 

“yeah. got a problem with that?” you ask in a sarcastic tone, although you weren’t in the mood for being funny. 

“its just.. he’s kinda… nevermind.” the girl says back, her voice lowering at the end.

“no, say it. he’s kinda what?” you respond back, not as cheerful this time. ethan stood next to you, looking down at the ground. 

“fine. he’s a fucking weirdo.” the girl blurted out, and you were livid. in the heat of the moment, you slapped her straight across the face, hoping to knock some sense into her. 

the group gasped, and ethan looked at you with wide eyes. 

“what the fuck?!?” she shouted, getting everyones attention.

“how the hell are you gonna make fun of my boyfriend when you’re to much of a slut to even keep one?!?!” you yell at her. all you heard was “ooohs” from the crowd at your statement. 

ethan dragged you outside before anyone could say anything else. 

“are you okay??” ethan asks, worried. you look at him confused. 

“i should be asking you if you’re okay! those bitches had no right to say anything about you. you’re the best boyfriend, and if they can’t see that, than it’s their loss.” you reply.

ethan just hugs you upon hearing your words. 

he wanted to spend forever in your arms. you were his savior, protecting him from every asshole out there. 

[ichorai]

hell, yeah ; roman roy ; part six.

pairing ; roman roy x f!reader

synopsis ; pain was an old friend for the both of you.

words ; 13.8k

themes ; angst, fluff, drama, slowburn, childhood friends to lovers

warnings / includes ; depictions of mental and physical abuse, major character death, heavy angsty shit, sexual jokes and general foul language, business talk, roman is so in love, connor gets a bit of spotlight for this chapter </3

a/n ; sorry i'm taking so so so long w this series! uni keeps getting in the way of my writing HAHA but i hope you guys enjoy :)

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Bidding wars had never really been fun for you. It was always emails upon emails, calls after calls, Logan yelling, Gerri scrambling, negotiations, bargains, deals—it was all too much.

But this… even you had to admit, this was fun. 

Maybe because it was the first time you were working against Logan and not for him. And being around the Roy siblings reminded you of your childhood—a time where the four of you got along for the most part, even with the bloody noses and scraped knees and the yankings of hair.

Buying Pierce had been something you were starkly against while you were working in Waystar, but with this new thing that the Roy siblings were crafting, you had complete faith that Shiv, Kendall—hell, even Roman, would keep the news station’s values in check.

And, though you weren’t entirely proud of it, there was a thrill, a rush of adrenaline, when the four of you raised your bidding price to a healthy ten billion as a closing offer, knowing there was no way Logan could ever consider outbidding that.

Nan Pierce accepted with little pushback, much to Logan’s fury.

Your godfather yelled at the four of you through the phone later that day, but there was no fear sitting within your stomach, like there usually was when he got angry. No, you were laughing. Kendall and Shiv and Roman—they were stifling their own smiles down at the screen, too.

That night, you stood on your balcony, a lit cigarette loosely balanced between your fingers. You weren’t at all a smoker—in fact, you hadn’t had one ever since you joined Waystar. It was an unprofessional look, in a sense. Not something you wanted to be associated with. 

The goddaughter that smelled of cheap cigarettes. Wasn’t that an unattractive thought?

But you didn’t have to worry about that anymore, did you? Honestly, you weren’t quite sure yourself. You’d just assumed you were no longer part of the company, but knowing Logan…

He always had something up his sleeve. Maybe he’d wait until the siblings lowered their guards to snipe you in the back of the head. Or lure you back with meaty bait. 

You took a short drag, faint grey wisps falling past your lips as you breathed out. 

“You smoking now? Doing a little smokey smokes?” came Roman’s voice from behind you, making you turn your head with a slight grin. “Since when?”

“First one since I was a little baby teenager, I think,” you replied. Roman leaned onto the balcony railing beside you, shoulder pressing flush against yours. “They taste disgusting. Here—”

You took a drag—a longer one, this time—leaned forward until your lips were just a whisker away from his, and blew the smoke into him. He inhaled deep before jerking forward to kiss you, nose nudging yours in his fervor.

“Yeah. Fucking disgusting,” he mumbled against your lips, as if wanting to propel you into something more than just kisses. 

Your eyes lit up with amusement, but you pulled away, leaving a lingering kiss on the side of Roman’s nose. The cigarette wasn’t at all used up, but you put it out on a small ashtray you had taken with you. 

“I just wanted to try,” you said. “Was wondering if I’d like it after all this time, now that I have the freedom to.”

There was a curious glint to Roman’s molten eyes. “And do you?”

“Nah. Like I said—they taste disgusting.”

“Some people like disgusting,” he off-handedly said, and you shot him a pointed look.

A breezy laugh, lost to the wind. “Yeah. I might know someone.”

“You’re a goody two-shoes, you know that?” he commented snidely, but his eyes were far too soft for his words to strike harsh. “But it’s good. We need someone like that. The company, I mean.”

“I know,” you whispered back. “I’m glad we’re doing this.”

“Yeah,” Roman said, his hand lacing with yours. He began tugging you back inside. “Me too.”

Connor wanted the four of you to come to his wedding rehearsal at a fancy restaurant downtown—he texted you multiple different addresses, each text telling you to disregard the last one. Then, he called you (called Shiv first, but she was on the phone, passive-aggressively bickering with Tom), and told you exactly where he was. Apparently Willa wasn’t very happy with the venues they’d booked. He sounded sad—it was always easy to tell when he was sad.

And so the four of you set off for him, though not without Roman’s constant complaints. Spending some quality time with their eldest brother was the last thing the Roy siblings wanted to do—they had far more pressing matters at hand. 

Sandi and Stewy, for one. They wanted to veto the acquisition for more dollars squeezed from Matsson’s hand. Roman was starkly against the idea, not wanting to blow more bullets into his father. Shiv and Kendall were far more willing to listen, though Kendall eventually backed down. It was appealing, you had to admit, especially because you hated Matsson’s guts, but you wanted to put business aside for the moment. Spend some time with Connor—after all, he was going to get married soon. If that ever ended up happening, that is.

Once inside the restaurant’s halls, you caught sight of Willa hurrying down the wide staircase by the entrance, looking a bit frazzled. 

“Oh, hi!” she said, slightly breathless. “So you’re here now, huh?”

“Hi, Willa,” you greeted, embracing her with a loose hug before stepping back. “Are you… going somewhere?”

“You standing up my big bro?” Roman quipped from right behind you. He was joking, but Willa only frowned. “Are you okay? Did something happen?” 

There was a nervous laugh from both parties.

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, yeah, I’m just—I’m having a little drink. Away.” 

Both you and Roman spared each other confused glances.

“Is the dinner rehearsal thing over? He still up there?” Roman asked.

The blonde fiddled with her phone, nearly dropping it. “Oh, uh, the rehearsal isn’t—it’s not done, no.”

“You’re leaving your own wedding rehearsal?” you gently questioned.

She smiled, though it came off only sad and tired. “I think they can manage. I’m not vital from here.”

Roman squinted at her. “Yeah, well… I mean, normally the bride is generally considered—correct me if I’m wrong—I think the bride is pretty vital in a wedding. Don’t you think?” 

“Well! Yeah, but… I should go, though. Have a think about it all. I’m in a bit of a fuzz.” She laughed again, though it looked like she wanted to cry. 

Nodding, you said, “Take care of yourself, Willa. Let us know if you need anything.”

She pursed her lips, eyes soft with appreciation. The two of you had never been quite close, but there was a mutual understanding between you. To be the pedestals of Roy men, the unnamed crutch, the woman on the arm. 

With that, she hurried away. 

“Fairy tale wedding, huh?” Shiv said, eyebrows raised. “Should we even go up? Seems like the rehearsal is over.”

“She said it wasn’t,” you replied, shrugging. “We should go see Con.”

Roman crossed his arms. “Yeah, Shiv, we really should. Why? You got something better to do than see your own brother before his wedding?”

“No, it’s just—we’ve got quite a lot to discuss, that’s all.”

It was Kendall’s turn to query, “What? Sandi and Stewy? They’re baiting us. Just let it go, Shiv.”

“I think they could really help us! We overpromised on Pierce!” she hotly defended.

“It’s a mind game,” Roman agreed with Kendall. “Just—fuck ‘em, okay?”

The redhead looked at you, but you shook your head. “Let’s just go see Connor, okay? We can hash it out after making sure he hasn’t got a gun barrel in his mouth.”

“Sure. Fine,” Shiv said, though it didn’t seem all that fine to her, judging from her pinched expression.

The four of you traipsed up the stairs, spotting Connor instantly—alone, surrounded by near-untouched platters of expensive food.

“Found him,” Roman sarcastically commented, pointing a finger at his oldest brother, who cracked a fond smile.

“Finally,” Connor said. “Took you guys long enough.”

Roman gave him an embrace from the side, saying, “Hey, bro. Hugsy.”

To the other side, Kendall patted his shoulder, another hand thumping on his chest. Shiv only barely leaned down to hug him, telling him, “Dad screwed us.”

“Yeah,” the eldest said. “I heard. But look at you guys—the Rebel Alliance.”

You were last to give Connor a hug, squeezing him tight, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek. “How’s the rehearsal been?”

A non-committal noise slipped past his lips. “Been good. It’s been okay.”

Roman made a strange, wincing sound, sucking air through his teeth. “Sure. Yeah, I believe you.”

Keen to change the subject, Connor surveyed his siblings—and you—with narrowed eyes. “So this is how it is, huh? Battle royale. Me and Dad on one side, you guys on the other?”

Strange, you hadn’t quite recalled Connor being so in with his father’s business plans. And… the fact that Logan hadn’t shown up to the wedding rehearsal at all.

“You okay, man?” Roman queried, genuine concern slipping over his features. He was always one to wear his heart on his sleeve. “We bumped into Willa on the way in. She seemed all…” He drew up his hands to his face and shook his fingers about.

Pointedly, Connor dropped his gaze down to the table. Untouched food left and right.  “Yeah. It’s alright. I think it’s fine.”

“You sure, Con?” you asked, slipping into the seat beside him, Roman on your other side. 

“Yeah, well, I guess she just—she stood up to do her speech, and then she froze. Said that she couldn’t do it.” There was a laugh, dry and unpleasant and somber. “Then she went to the bathroom for forty minutes with her so-called friends.”

Roman wrinkled his nose and squinted his eyes at nothing in particular. “Oh, no, no, that’s—that’s totally fine. Don’t you worry about that. Just toss her another ten grand—or a snowmobile. Teeth-whitening vouchers.”

Unhappy with the meaning behind his brother’s words, Connor pushed himself away from the table, heading off to speak to Willa’s mom. 

Tossing a glare in Roman’s direction, you sighed out, “Was that really necessary?”

“What? It’s the truth, isn’t it?”

Slumping into the chair across from you, Kendall huffed out, “This is so fucking weird.”

“Do we regroup at my place?” Shiv asked, still standing, impatient to leave even though they’d just gotten there.

Tilting his head, Roman incredulously said, “Shiv. Come on. He’s… he’s looking a little rough. Don’t you think?”

“Well, sure. I’m sorry that Dad fucked us and I’m sorry that we’re late. But we do need to decide fast.” 

“The Sandi and Stewy deal?” you queried.

Shiv let out a frustrated exhale. “Yeah.”

“Well, I think we’re already decided, no?” Kendall said, lifting a shoulder in half a shrug. Roman nodded in agreement.

“Are we, though? They made some pretty compelling arguments.” Shiv tapped her foot against the hardwood floors impatiently.

Glancing over at Connor, who was trying his best to console Willa’s mother, you bobbed your head, hesitant. “It could potentially ruin Matsson. The deal. I’d like to see it.”

Groaning a little too loudly, Roman said, “Sandy’s just a greedy little bitch. She’s got her hand up the ass of the carcass of her dad, and Stewy’s just coming along for the ride. Can we not do this right now? It’s a fucking—it’s a packet of horseshit.”

Trying her best to stay calm, Shiv perched herself on the edge of the seat next to Kendall. “Okay. And what if I want to talk it through? This would help us.”

Kendall arched a brow. “I think we should just rise above it.”

“Yeah, okay, but maybe Dad is not on it like he used to be—and maybe he’s underplayed his hand, and the board are all just hand-fucking-picked Japanese plastic cats just waving it through,” Shiv argued.

“It doesn’t hurt to try,” you added, trying your best to sway Roman by nudging him gently. He merely rolled his eyes and prodded you back, but said nothing more.

It was then that Connor came hurrying back, carding a hand through his hair. He tiredly sank back down into his seat. “No luck. Still incommunicado. I just really hope she’s okay.”

“I’m sure she is,” you told him, rubbing a hand over his shoulder. “She just needs space, is all.”

“Yeah.” As if he’d flipped a switch, Connor straightened and plastered on a smile. “So, what do you guys say? A little bit of karaoke?”

All three siblings grimaced. 

“Or would it be possible,” Roman began, scratching at his jaw, “to do anything other than that, in the entire universe?”

“I think karaoke sounds nice,” you offered. Honestly, you weren’t too keen on doing karaoke when your mind was abuzz with a million other things at the moment, but it was Connor, and he seemed so down about Willa at his own wedding rehearsal, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to say no to him. It was like kicking at an already-wounded puppy.

Connor grinned. “Nice! One in the bag. Come on, you guys. Don’t leave us hanging.”

Shiv looked near ready to bash her head against the table. Kendall was glancing down at his phone—texting someone.

Roman rolled his eyes and groaned again, even louder than before. “Ugh. Fine! We can drink, though, right? I’m not listening to you sing sober.”

Clearing her throat, Shiv said, “Well, I just, we kind of have—other engagements right now—”

“Oh, sure. Everybody’s busy,” Connor crooned. Though, if you looked close enough, you’d see the unmistakable hurt in his eyes. Why didn’t his baby sister want to spend time with him?

“Come on,” Kendall said with an urgent hand slanting over Shiv’s shoulder, phone gone for now. “Let’s give him a drink.”

Clapping his hands, Connor stood up again. “Great! But—not any of your stupid places. Somewhere fun and real and—away from all the fancy dance. A real bar with, uh, with chicks, and guys who work with their hands in grease—sweat dripping down their backs and blood all over their hair.”

“I don’t like these guys. They sound like a medical experiment gone wrong,” Roman piped up, slinging an arm over your shoulder.

“Sounds hot,” you said with a genuine laugh. “Let’s go.”

The bar itself was atmospherically ambient, the lights warm and unharsh, the chatter light and friendly, the television playing a football match at a soft volume. You smiled—it’d been a while since you stepped foot into an actual bar full of people who weren’t aristocratic assholes.

Normal people doing normal things. What was that like?

Roman, on the other hand, looked particularly uncomfortable, shoulders stiff and expression taut. He was only here for his big brother, but his saint-like kindness only wore so thin.

Kendall ordered drinks for the lot of you—whiskey on the rocks for himself, a sealed soda for Shiv since she didn’t trust anything from the bar’s “tainted” nozzles, a fancy beer for Connor, a vodka tonic for Roman, and a strawberry margarita for you. He snorted when you asked for it, rolling his eyes to the side. 

“You and your strawberries,” Kendall said, before heading off to call the bartender. You weren’t quite sure if his expression was fond or derisive. Perhaps both.

You sat beside Connor, peering over his shoulder, where he was staring at the screen with heavily knitted brows.

“Is that—is that Willa?” you asked, eyes widening upon seeing him zoomed onto a map with a tiny blue dot. “Are you tracking her?”

“Jesus, Con,” said Roman, laughing his high-pitched laugh. “That’s low, even for you.”

“What? I have her location shared,” the older brother said, earning quizzical looks from the three of you. “It’s a factory setting.”

Shiv made a noise of amusement. “It’s not.”

“Well…” Connor’s eyes darted back down to his screen, zooming in impossibly closer. “I’m reassured she’s definitely not on her way to Cuba.”

From his other side, Kendall appeared, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Well, her phone isn’t.”

Connor decided to ignore the comment. “She stopped moving, so… I guess she found a spot she likes.”

“Sure!” crooned Roman. “On another man’s dick.”

The rest of you sighed, and you shook your head. 

“On a much bigger, nicer, harder, younger dick, is all I’m saying,” Roman reassured his eldest brother, patting his shoulders.

“Can we not?” Connor softly said, though he was smiling down at Rome. Even though his words hurt, just the fact that he was there for him cheered him up just a little bit. “Okay? I’m feeling—I’m having certain anxieties, alright? I want to have a good time!”

Once Roman muttered a quick apology, you bumped him off to the side so you can press up next to Connor again, staring down at the blue dot, still unmoving. “I’m sure she just needs a breather. It’s a big deal, y’know. Marriage.”

“I know,” said Con, sucking in a deep breath. There was a profound sort of loneliness to his eyes. “I just thought—I thought it was enough. All of it. It was enough for her.”

“It will be,” you said, nudging him. “Eventually. Just give her time.”

The drinks came then, and you hummed contentedly after taking your first sip. “Fuck. Why don’t they ever have shit like this at the fancy events we go to?”

“Because it’s diabetes in a cup,” Roman replied, but he plucked the glass from your fingers to snag a sip for himself. “It’s literal sugar water. Barely any alcohol in here.”

“Well, I’m not looking to get wasted,” you said, before snatching it back, shooting him a half-hearted glare. “You drank so much!”

“Nuh-uh, there was barely anything in there to begin with!”

“Roman, it was filled to the brim two seconds ago, what are you talking about?”

Before the two of you could divulge into a round of childish bickering, Connor abruptly straightened in his seat. “Her dot is at an aquarium supply retailer. That doesn’t make sense—is that a drug thing?”

Kendall cleared his throat. “No, I don’t think so.”

“You sure?”

Roman snickered. “It is. It’s a drug thing.”

“Maybe she’s getting a pet fish,” you unhelpfully supplied. “A little pre-wedding gift for the two of you?”

Frowning, Connor said, “Now she’s at a dry cleaner’s.”

“Probably getting her panties cleaned from the new dick’s cum,” quipped Roman. The absurdity of the statement made you laugh unexpectedly, but you quickly quietened when Connor stared at the two of you in horror. 

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked, as if he were a parent scolding a naughty toddler. 

“I’m not saying it’s your cum! Your cum, I’m sure, is very washable.” Roman droned on to an incredulous Connor some more, but your attention was drawn to Kendall, whose phone began to ring, and he quietly excused himself from the bar to take the call, face twisted into unmistakeable dread. You briefly wondered who he looked so anxious to talk to, but the thought was quick to banish from your mind entirely when Connor prodded Roman in the shoulder and said your name.

“Okay, that’s enough from you. Y/N, can you tell him to stop? Tell him to stop.”

“Stop it, Roman. Don’t talk about your brother’s cum, you weirdo.”

Rubbing his palms together, Roman shrugged the matter away entirely. “I’m starving. Anything to eat in this shit shack, or what?”

By the time Kendall came back, the rest of you were crowded into a small booth with a dingy little light hanging a little too low over the table. There was a platter of cheesy nachos in the center, which Shiv eyed with distaste. Roman was still looking over the menus, sarcastically wondering aloud from which creature they’d clipped the wings off of.

“Who were you talking to, Ken?” you asked. “It wasn’t Frank again, was it?” 

Kendall’s eyes darted from your face down to the floor. “Uh… no. No, it was—it was Stewy.” 

Something about his demeanor screamed that he wasn’t telling the entire truth, but you kept quiet, watching him with just barely narrowed eyes. 

“Oh, great. What the fuck does he want now?” Roman hissed, peering over the crinkled lamination of the menu he was holding. 

Kendall leaned forward slightly, regarding Shiv with a pointed stare. “Actually, guys, can I… can I show you something? On the comparables. It’s actually pretty fucking intriguing.” 

Your eyebrows rose a fraction. Just a few moments ago, Kendall wasn’t at all interested in Sandi and Stewy’s pitching. What changed his mind?

Nodding in satisfaction, Shiv added, “Yeah, see? It makes you think. Maybe Dad isn’t on it like he used to be. You know, he’s being pushed around by Matsson—hell, even by Kerry. Giving shows to his girlfriend? That’s just—it’s an embarrassment!”

Loudly, Connor exclaimed, “Fuck, she’s in the East River now! She’s in the—oh. Wait, no, she’s just on the bridge.” You popped a nacho in your mouth and glanced over at Connor, who was squinting down at his phone.

“Looks like she’s going on a little trip,” you hummed. “She’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, okay, not to be dicks, Con, but is it okay if we do a little breakout chat, just the four of us? We won’t be long, like—two minutes max,” Shiv said, expression serious and unyielding.

Rolling his eyes, Roman gestured to his oldest brother. “Hey, just—fuck it. Why don’t we fold Con in?” 

“Well, he’s not on the board, so—”

“Yeah, but he has a share. If the deal falls, he loses his payout.”

An incredulous frown pulled at his lips. “Excuse me?” Connor said.

“Oh, okay, so Shiv wants to get us mixed up in some drug deal that will fuck the vote tomorrow,” Roman told him, pursing his lips in an exaggerated fashion.

Holding her hands out, Shiv shook her head. “Uh, no. All we’re aiming for is a small delay. We all want the deal to go through.”

“Right,” you said with an amused snort. “Sure.”

“I, uh… I think I agree,” said Kendall.

Roman’s eyes widened. “Oh, what the fuck? Seriously?”

 “It’s just—looking at the numbers… it’s compelling.”

With a grand scoff, Roman shook his head. “It’s compelling? Wow. You’d find a bag of peanuts more compelling, Kendall.”

You placed a hand over Roman’s jolting knee. “Rome, why don’t we just hear them out?” His eyes met yours, hesitant and conflicted. “And think—wouldn’t it be fun? Fucking Matsson in the ass?”

“Yeah, I bet you’d like that, you freak,” he scoffed, crossing his arms.

“So you guys are just gonna force Dad to grovel?” Connor asked, mouth parted in surprise. “Oh, man. How long will a renegotiation take?”

Shiv’s lips twisted downwards, though it was more of a smile than a frown. “It’s a play. More money is more money, and that’s all there is to it.”

It was then that Roman’s phone, facing upwards on the chipped table, vibrated thrice. The screen lit up with a text notification. 

Dad.

All the siblings had seen it, and Shiv rushed to angle the phone towards her. Roman slapped her hand away, yanking his phone towards his chest. Hiding it.

“What the fuck?” Shiv asked, wary. “The fuck is Dad messaging you for?”

Roman stood frozen, reminiscent of a deer in headlights. “Uh, I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him? Stupid question, Shivvy.”

Kendall stared at his younger brother blankly. “You’re not gonna read it?”

There was a brief pause. “Yeah, I’ll—I’ll read the damn thing. Sure.” A swipe of his phone, a kink to his brows. “It’s just a check-in.”

“Oh, yeah?” Shiv said, skeptical. “A check-in? Oh, yeah. Classic Dad. He just loves to check in on us, see how we’re doing.” 

Backing down, Roman fessed up, “Okay, fine, I sent him a text on his birthday. Just saying, you know, happy birthday, sorry we missed it—”

“I’m sorry, wait a minute!” Shiv exclaimed. “You texted him first?”

Roman frowned. “It was his birthday, yeah.”

“We said no contact until he apologizes!” she angrily pointed out.

“Okay, so then never?” Roman shot back, scowling.

With a tilt of your head, you said, “It was just a simple happy birthday, right? That’s harmless. Right, Roman?” You pressed your foot over his, enough so he could feel the pressure, but not enough to hurt him.

“Yeah. That was it.”

“Nuh-uh. I want to see your phone,” said the red-head. 

A flicker of panic flashed across Roman’s eyes. “Oh, really? Show me yours, then! World’s biggest WhatsApp group of people sharing pictures of your snatch. No, thank you. Fuck off, fuck you.”

“Roman, come on,” Kendall said. “We have to trust each other.”

Memories of Kendall forcefully taking Roman’s phone from you in Hungary briefly crossed your mind. You pursed your lips. He’d been hiding things from you then, who was to say he wasn’t hiding things from you now?

Relenting, Roman tossed his phone onto the table, almost hitting the platter of nachos. He was growing angrier by the second, frustrated by his siblings' shoes pressing against his spine. “Fine, take a good look. I don’t give a shit. It’s just dick pics, anyway. He’s got a real taste for ‘em now.”

You leaned over to read along with Shiv and Kendall. It looked fine to you—since it was just a simple birthday wish, but they seemed much more harsh in their critique.

“This is more than one text, Roman.” There was a crease between Shiv’s brows.

“Okay. What is it? Two, three?”

Kendall rubbed the faint stubble over his jaw. “It’s a bit warm.”

“Warm? Why, what did I say?”

“Take care.”

Scoffing, Roman’s eyes rolled up to the dingy, low-hanging light. “What was I supposed to say? Happy birthday, hope you fall down a flight of stairs, shithead!”

“I feel a little bit weird about this betrayal, if I’m being honest,” Shiv said in a steely tone. 

“Betrayal?” Roman parroted, almost offensively. “The betrayal of happy birthday, Dad. Take care!” 

“You know what?” Kendall chimed in. “I’m feeling a bit betrayed, too.”

Upset, Roman just about slammed his phone back down on the tabletop. “Wow. Great. Fucking family guilt-trip fest.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you said, pinching the space between your brows. “It’s not illegal to say happy birthday, guys. Relax, okay?”

Connor nodded. “It’s hard. It’s been hard on everybody.”

The five of you sat in silence for a bit longer. Has it been hard? Or did it just feel like it because all of you had been so accustomed to getting everything handed over on a silver platter? 

Finally, Shiv swallowed heavily and said, “You know that he advised Tom on the divorce? Gave him a Dad trick—went and spoke to every pit bull in Manhattan and tied them up. I got Mommed.”

You frowned. So much had happened in the past few months, you’d sort of even forgotten Shiv and Tom were heading for divorce. “Tom did that? Jeez… I’m sorry, Shiv.”

Roman blew out a breath, mildly relieved that the heat was taken off of him for a moment. “I mean, there’s probably one more horrible motherfucker lawyer around somewhere, but, uhm… that sucks. I’m sorry.”

Shiv refused to meet either of your gazes. She didn’t want to be reduced to… Tom’s ex-wife. A shadow of her mother. 

“Guys, I just feel like we need to stick together,” Kendall said, firm. We should push back, and we should all be on board. We squeeze them.”

Equally level, Roman placed his hands on the table. “Okay, but, we want to do Pierce, right? We want an out?”

“Yes. But just with a bit more money,” Kendall agreed. 

“Yeah, that’s the thing—I don’t think Matsson will go up in price,” Roman argued. “He won’t! I know this, because I’ve spoken to him. I really think he might walk.”

 Good, you wanted to say, but you bit down on your tongue.

Both Shiv and Kendall began poking fun at him for not calling Matsson’s bluff.

Exasperated, Roman rubbed his knuckles along his hairline. “Okay, it just sounded like he meant it.” He didn’t look happy with the prospect of blocking the deal. He wanted to be a traitor to his Dad without being a traitor. To have his cake and eat it, too.

Shiv and Roman fell into another argument about whether or not Roman cared over conflict—that he was scared of his own Dad and wanted to back down like a coward.

Quelling his riled-up siblings, Kendall motioned for them to quiet down. “Honestly, though, guys. I think going with Sandi and Stewy is the best thing for us to do. As a team.”

Shiv nodded in agreement. “It’s a play. Buys us a couple weeks and more money.”

“He’ll get it,” Kendall said, trying to sway Rome. “It’s what Dad would do in his prime.”

And was that the goal? To try and imitate the beast to scare him off? A moth with false eyes to ward away predators?

Roman squinted at nothing in particular. Then, he angled his face to look at you. You hadn’t at all realized that your features were immobilized in uncertainty. 

“What?” Roman asked, knee knocking against yours.

“Your Dad’s going to hate us if we pull this.”

Roman laughed, high and nervous. The idea made him nauseous. “Seems like he already does.”

“No, he… he loves you. All of you. But this is… he’ll hate that he loves you, sure, that’s always been the case. But this time… he’ll hate you if you’re the reason he can’t win.”

Something sick twisted within Roman’s gut. He seemed to go all pale and wide-eyed. 

“It’s just a play, though,” Shiv said. 

“Just a play,” Roman echoed, sounding unsure. “It isn’t real?”

Kendall nodded. Shiv, too.

“Fine. Yeah, fuck it. I’m in.” Roman caved, and the two smiled at him. You squeezed his knee. 

With a sharp exhale, Connor huffed, “God damn it. God fucking damn it! You ruined it. You ruined it all.”

Roman apologized, but it seemed to fall upon deaf ears. Kendall tried to calm him down by asking his brother what he wanted to do. After all… it was supposed to be his big night before the big day.

“I wanted to get married tomorrow,” he said, cross. “I wanted to spend tonight with my family and tomorrow with Dad. I wanted to get my fucking money out. But you guys fucked it!”

Feeling mildly guilty, your other hand came up to rub Connor’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, really. You’re an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire. What can we do to make you feel better, Con?”

Several moments passed by in silence as Connor thought about it. What did he want? A giant bowl of ice cream so large you couldn’t see around it? A perfectly-tailored suit from the most expensive store he could find? A vintage bottle of whiskey and a nice book to sit with? They all sounded appealing to him.

“I would…” he finally started, “I’d like to sing one fucking song at karaoke because I’ve seen it in the movies, and nobody ever wants to go.”

Roman just about banged his head on the table. You flicked at his ear, before turning back to Connor. “Karaoke. Yeah, we can do that, Con.”

The room was illuminated with hazy shades of purples and blues, the lights hidden behind indents in the wall. It looked modern and sleek—an upscale to what was typically seen in the movies. Connor didn’t hesitate to make a beeline for the karaoke machine, fiddling with buttons and remotes and smiling to himself when he managed to get it up and working without asking for help. Shiv and Kendall wandered around cautiously. Roman was quick to toss himself onto the long, spacious couch, hanging off of the seats as if he were melting. You curled up beside him with a pleased hum, nose brushing over his lower cheek, scratchy with barely-there stubble.

There was a bit more dilly-dallying—Connor was concerned about Willa’s blue dot disappearing completely. The siblings were quick to brush him off, reassure him, tell him he wasn’t going to ever do better than Willa. The usual.

You sipped on a glass of champagne that Kendall handed you. There was more chatter—amicable and light and teasing. You poked fun at Kendall’s lame hat whilst Shiv plainly told Roman that his shoes were a size too large for his feet. That his feet were small and dainty and he would fall over if they were any smaller. More drinks, more giggling, more stories. You learned that fresh-faced college Kendall once puked on Stewy’s bed and cried at the foot of it after drinking too much. You told the siblings that you once slept with Angelina from accounting during your first year at the company, to which they responded with shocked snorts. There was a point where Roman grabbed your face and kissed you and kissed you until the rest of the siblings began faux-gagging, and Connor complained that it was like watching his siblings make out. Goddaughter-and-son incest, he’d said. 

It was fun, maybe. The closest to fun you could have with Roy siblings.

And it was gone in a second, like a candle snuffed in a hurricane. 

Logan was coming. Connor invited him because he loved him and he loved all of you and—

It hurt. Simple as that. It hurt to see the people he loved so… so torn.

The smiles melted away, and the laughter buzzed down. It was tense again. Family turned business once more. Connor finally put on a song to sing while he waited for his father to come, but your ears rang with white noise, so you didn’t quite register which song he was brokenly following along.

You were scared, you realized. Scared to face the man with the knife in his back. Roman worked his jaw and he complained some more. Not that you really heard what he said.

At some point, his phone began to ring, vibrating in his pants, pressed up against your leg. You raised a brow and scooched back so he could take it out to check. 

Logan. Dad. Of course. Roman’s hands shook, but only a little bit. Enough for you to see. Shiv grabbed it and hung up for him, not liking how long he hesitated. You stared at the black screen for a bit longer, your own fingers twitching.

Connor continued to sing. He finished three songs—maybe four—until the door creaked open. No knocks.

Colin came in first, then your godfather, then Kerry. He nodded, almost polite, with a casual greeting hanging in the air. It was eternally strange, the way Logan smiled at you. Warm, maybe. You didn’t know.

“Shit,” Roman said, almost amused, mostly… unprepared.

Chancing a glance to Shiv and Kendall, you noticed their stiff upper lips, their frozen postures. 

“Can we go somewhere else?” Logan asked, glancing around the large room. “These lights, er…”

Shiv shook her head in exasperation. A roll of her eyes. “We’re not going anywhere.”

There was little resistance to Logan. “Fine,” he easily acquiesced. With that, he took a seat in a velvet black chair, across all the siblings and you. Kerry jerked to sit next to him, which made Shiv recoil with a sneer.

“We won’t be needing you, Kerry. Thanks.”

Roman nodded. “Yeah, this here is a family fuck-fuck.”

There were a few glances around, Logan and Kerry looked at each other but neither moved. 

“Let’s get this figured out, and I can let you get back to your fun,” said Logan, ignoring them.

“Might be a wasted trip,” Kendall sardonically replied, tongue sharp. “Wanna give us a blast of New York, New York and fuck off?”

“I wanted to say something,” their father said.

Shiv retorted something else, and Kendall snickered under his breath. The buzzing in your ears grew louder.

“I guess I just wanted you there, a bit,” Logan said. “At my party.”

It was a play. Was it? Yes, of course. But if it wasn’t… 

But it was.

“Holy shit,” Kendall crooned. “Did Dad just say a feeling?”

“Well, you know. I thought maybe it would be nice,” said Logan. 

With exaggerated motions of his hands, Kendall exclaimed, “Oh, fuck! Now it’s all coming out! Oh, my God, Mr. Melodrama here! It’s like a fucking telenovela!”

Connor gestured between Kendall and his dad. “Come on, guys. He’s trying.”

Logan smiled, calm. “Y/N, dear,” he began. Your eyes snapped up to meet his and your spine seemed to grow rigid. “I had a lovely chat with your father. He was… surprised that you’re no longer holding Waystar together. Wouldn’t it be a shame, considering all the money he’s invested into the company? You’re setting millions on fire.”

The siblings all looked at you, curious. You swallowed, finding your throat painfully dry, despite all the champagne you’d been sipping prior to Logan’s arrival.

“If they expected me to stay at Waystar my entire life, they were always bound to be disappointed,” you responded, careful. “I won’t be tied down.”

A twitch of the old man’s mouth. Down or up or perhaps it hadn’t moved at all. “A shame. You worked so hard to compose acquisition branch details on Pierce just under a year ago. So much paperwork.” He shook his head. “And all of you—you knew I wanted Pierce ever since then. When I lost out, it wasn’t a good feeling.”

Fed up, Shiv finally leaned forward and hissed out, “I’m sorry, can we just cut the shit? It’s obvious why you’re here, Dad!”

Unsuspectingly, Kerry chimed, “Your father wanted to address the personal stuff and not just launch into business.”

Shiv’s jaw clicked. “Well, see, this isn’t personal, Dad. This is a business decision. This is about the money.”

Logan bobbed his head. “Look, you’re smart to ask about the money. You are. But Matsson—he won’t go there. You haven’t been around this, but I’ve got done a good deal and you’ll get enough to do whatever you want. I do ATN, you do Pierce. It’ll be a fresh start for all of us. It’ll make things better, and it starts there. All you have to do is… vote yes and support the deal.”

There was an uneasy shift next to you—Roman looked torn.

“You can separate the personal from the business,” Kerry offered. “Reset your dynamic as a family.”

Shiv snorted. “Oh, super! It’s gonna be just like how it used to—summer vacay and road trip musicals!” 

Hesitant, Roman supplied, “It just… it may be more complicated than that, dad.”

“I guess you’re still in the honeymoon phase,” Shiv told Kerry, cold and sarcastic. “Getting your own show on TV… amazing.”

The dark-haired woman glanced around, seeming to shrink further into her seat.

“No?” Roman asked, his attention piqued. Anything to latch onto to make everything feel less—tortuous. “You’re not going to be on TV now?”

Shiv laughed. “Has he fucked you on that?” 

Kendall nodded. “That’ll happen. The fucking. But congrats on losing your betrayal cherry—”

“Enough!” Logan said. It wasn’t loud, but heavy with finality. Your pulse skipped a beat, scratching down your ribcage almost painfully. Logan looked tired. “I though you’d be interested in an apology, but that’s enough.”

Incredulous, Shiv held a hand out. “Wait, what? An apology? We missed that, I think.”

Logan fixed an intense stare over all his children. “Look, I don’t do apologies. But if it means so much to you, then… sorry.”

In all your years of living, you’re not sure you’ve ever heard Logan apologize before. Was it genuine? Was it real? There was a long, terse silence. Roman stared at his father with his mouth slightly agape. You wrapped your arms around your stomach and stared at the door. Connor was looking down at his shoes. Kendall aimlessly observed Logan, finding that the apology he’d yearned for so many years of his life seemed to fall incredibly flat.

Shiv just about glared at her father in a challenging fashion, lips pursing tight. “There is nothing you could say to me now that I would ever believe.”

“This deal push could be worth a hundred mil to us, Dad,” said Kendall. “How many sorrys do we get for that?”

Kerry was starting to say something, but Roman butted in, looking incredibly troubled. “What are you actually sorry for, Dad? Are we actually doing this? Because I think, you know… seriously, what fucked all of this was when… it all happened with Mom in Italy.”

Logan averted his gaze to the carpeted ground. “Yeah, okay. I’ve had certain thoughts about that. With the best of intentions, I got the structure of the holding company, and the ownership structure of the family trust. There is a lack of clarity, and maybe you got a—”

“Amazing,” Shiv deadpanned, cutting her father off. “You sure you’re not having a seizure?”

For the first time in a very long time, Connor raised his voice at his baby sister. “He’s trying, Shiv! You said you were interested in an apology!”

Shiv glared at her father again. In a less harsh tone, she asked, “Anything else, Dad?”

There was a long pause. You wondered if Logan was haggling for words. 

“Come on, Dad,” Kendall goaded. “What are you sorry for?”

It felt like bullying, almost. In a severely twisted way. 

Kendall continued on, “Are you sorry for fucking ignoring Connor his whole life?”

“Bit strong,” protested Connor.

“Hitting Rome when he was a kid?” Kendall pointed at Roman, who shrugged.

“Oh, no—I mean, everyone hit me. I’m fucking annoying.” 

You frowned at Roman’s words, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

“Having Connor’s mom locked up?” Kendall continued on. 

Something twisted in the eldest Roy sibling’s expression. “Can we not do a whole show trial here?”

Finally, Shiv hissed out, “Okay, what about advising Tom on my divorce? Yeah? I mean, that took effort. That was above and beyond.”

“Tom asked me for advice,” said Logan. It didn’t go past everyone’s notice how he ignored all the rest of the hurtled accusations. “I recommended someone he could speak to. You weren’t around. If you’d been around, I would’ve offered you the same advice. But I can’t help you if you don’t see me.”

Shiv was hurt. It was clear as day, even if she refused to show it. She built up a wall, a front, brick by brick, and spun her hurt feelings into a low-flamed fury.

“Bottom line is, if we ask for more money, Matsson walks. I know that.”

“No!” Shiv asserted. There was something firmer in her tone this time. Angrier. “You don’t know that! You don’t know him! You don’t fucking know everything! Just because you say it doesn’t make it true! Everyone just fucking agrees with you and believes you so it becomes true—and then you can turn around and say oh! You see? I was right! But that’s just—that’s not how it is. You’re a human fucking gaslight!”

The silence that stretched across the room was thin. You were afraid to breathe, and so you bit down on your tongue.

Logan nodded and nodded. The brothers were quiet.

And so you felt compelled to say something. Sick with nerves, but compelled nonetheless. “Matsson has been fucking the company since the very start of negotiations. It’s only fair if you… bite him back.”

Logan watched you. There was something in his eyes that seemed to soften, but it was near imperceptible. Maybe you were simply seeing what you wanted to see. “I can’t take that risk,” he finally said. “Look, I just wanted to get us all together. What you kids don’t realize… this is a good deal. The world likes it. It makes sense. But deals have a habit of disappearing because pricks like Matsson get pissed off or snubbed. This… this is fucking real.”

You turned your head away and stared at the door once more. You wanted to leave. Crawl into bed and stop thinking about it all. Beside you, Roman was biting down on his thumb. A nervous habit.

“Okay, I think I can speak for everyone when I say this… go ask him for more money, Dad.” Shiv narrowed her eyes at her father.

“Why?” Logan asked. Are you not satisfied with what you already have? was the unsaid, lingering question hanging in the air.

Kendall tilted his head up. “Just good business sense. Gotta make our own pile. Right, Dad?” 

“Yeah, I just have to listen to my gut. I just gotta go with what my gut says,” Shiv piled on.

“Oh, come on. Jesus.” Logan pulled at his face, tired. In a span of five, maybe ten minutes… he seemed to age a decade. Finally, finally, the nice mask slipped. He leaned back in the velvet seat and spat out, “You’re such fucking dopes.”

Roman’s nose twitched and he shifted so he could lean further into you. You let him.

“You are not serious figures,” Logan went on. “I love you… but you are not serious people.”

His eyes were glassy for a second, but you weren’t exactly sure, because he stood up and hurriedly strode out of the karaoke room the very next second. No goodbyes. Kerry followed close behind him.

The hazy purple lights were beginning to make you nauseous. 

Everybody sat in silence for a little while longer. Let the conversation marinate. Shiv poured herself a drink and smiled into the rim, expression victorious.

“How was it for you guys?” she asked the group. “Fucking Dad, that is.”

“Amazing. Just over too soon. I could’ve kept going,” Kendall admitted.

Roman abruptly stood up, scratching the back of his head uncomfortably. He made a noise of disgust.

“Rome, we’re kidding, man,” Kendall said.

He began to pace around, like a caged animal. “No, I know. It’s fine. It’s cool.”

Connor also stood up, shrugging on his jacket. “Well… I’m going home. ‘M tired.” 

“G’night, Con,” you said. He reached over the couch to give you a one-armed hug from behind. “She’ll come home. Willa.”

“It’s fine,” Connor said. 

Kendall arched a brow. “Really?”

“Yeah.” There was a nod and a tap of his shoe. “The good thing about having a family that doesn’t love you is that you learn to live without it.”

Shiv’s face crumpled. “What? Con, that’s not—”

With a shake of his head, Connor scoffed. “You’re all chasing after Dad saying, “Oh, please, love me, love me, I need love, I need attention!””

“I think that’s the opposite of what just happened,” Shiv argued. 

“You’re needy love sponges,” Connor pressed. “And I’m a plant that grows on rocks and lives off insects that die inside of me.”

Shiv laughed, Roman huffed, and Kendall stayed silent. 

“If Willa doesn’t come back, that’s fine. ‘Cause I don’t need love. It’s like a superpower,” he said. “And if she comes back and doesn’t love me, that’s okay too. I don’t need it. Thanks for the party.” With that, he stepped out of the karaoke room.

You jolted out of your seat, ignoring Roman’s questions as to where you were going. You rushed out the door after Connor, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste.

“Connor!” you called out. The older man halted in the middle of the dimly lit hallway.

“What? I’m not looking for pity, Y/N—”

You shuffled forward the last few steps and put your hand on his elbow. “Con, I just… I wanted to say—” You shook your head and wrapped your arms around him. “You’re my brother. I know you are. And… even if you don’t need love or whatever you were on about in there… I’ll still love you anyway. Okay? I don’t need you to need my love. You’ll have it.”

There was a momentary pause before Connor jerkily moved to pat your back and hug you back. Loose, but solid.

“You’re just a kid. A kid with my kid brother,” he said once he pulled away, rubbing his palms up and down your forearms. His eyes seemed to be watery and tired, but he laughed right from his belly. “I love you, too, kid.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course.”

The two of you grinned at each other. 

“G’night, Con.” He let you go when you stepped back. “Big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah…”  Connor nodded. “Big day.”

He walked off, and you watched him go. When you heard the door open, you turned to see Roman peeking his head out.

“Hey, Rome,” you greeted. “I love you, you know that?”

His eyes roamed over your face, and he smiled back. It was lopsided and slight. “Mmkay. Yeah, me too, fuckface. You feeling okay?” 

“Yeah. Should get home.” You craned your neck to lean forward, affectionately pecking his cheek. “You coming with?”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Eyes to the ground, then to the walls. Not on you. 

“Not… not yet. I’ll come in a bit. Just need to grab something from my place first.”

His place was barren. Everything in his place, you had in yours. You probably had more of his clothes in your closet than his own. You regarded him with a curious look, but decided not to press further.

“Okay, Rome. You have the key. Just don’t jostle me awake when you climb into bed.”

He guffawed. “I’ll sleep on the floor then, your royal majesty.” 

“Thank you.”

“I was joking. Just so you know. You prick.”

“I know. I wouldn’t want you to sleep on the floor, anyway. A waste of body heat.”

He kissed you then, surging forward to chase after your lips. You hummed in pleasant surprise, but kissed him back with just as much vigor. His lips were a darker shade of pink when he pulled away.

“See you at home, Roman.” After a final pat on his cheek, it was your turn to walk off. 

Roman wrung his hands nervously. There’d been a text to his phone while you were out talking to Connor—from his Dad. He glanced back at the door, where Shiv and Kendall were still speaking to each other inside. He rolled his shoulders and began to slowly walk out of the building, careful not to bump into you.

He was going to go pay his father a visit.

The top spot at ATN. Was it a tempting offer in it of itself or was it just tempting because his father was goading him to lick off the silver platter?

When he told you, and of course he told you, you just about blew up—in the most professional, stick-in-ass way possible—warning him not to take the offer with a strained voice and wide eyes. Not even consider it. ATN wasn’t where he wanted to be. His father was offering him a cyanide pill, obscured by a layer of fucking strawberries and cream.

The next morning, he numbly got dressed for Connor’s wedding. Got into the car after you, pinching your thigh once he clambered in next to you. His father called him on the way there, much to your dismay, telling him to come with him to meet Matsson, despite Connor’s wedding being literal hours away.

Roman turned him down. But he didn’t turn Logan away when he told Roman to fire Gerri since, apparently, he was beginning to lose faith in her. 

You were pretending not to listen to their conversation, but he knew you were. He could tell by the way your jaw seemed to twitch at the prospect of cutting Gerri loose. 

“Shit,” he breathed out once Logan hung up on him. “That’s fucking… bullshit.”

You drew your eyes away from the window, regarding him with narrowed eyes. “Don’t do it, Rome.”

Everything felt crowded and tense all of a sudden. Roman squared his shoulders defensively. There was a stinging quip on the tip of his tongue, but nothing seemed to come out other than a rather passive, “Mmh.” 

The rest of the drive to the wedding venue was silent. But your hand came to lace with his, and that made him feel just a bit better. 

Once there, about half a dozen cameras swarmed the two of you coming out of the car, taking several candid shots, much to your irritation. It was only expected, what with Connor being in the run for president and the whole wedding being a PR move, anyway. But you gave them a smile nonetheless, made a show of kissing Roman’s cheek and walked off to greet other work acquaintances and wedding guests. From the corner of your eye, you could see Roman trying to talk to Gerri with a rather terse look on his face. You tried not to pay him any mind. He was digging his own grave.

Half an hour later, the wedding planner announced for family and friends to start boarding the boat. The few businesswomen you were chatting to kissed you on the cheek and told you they’d see you soon. You waved them goodbye and made your way onto the boat. Kissed and hugged and congratulated Willa. She looked beautiful in her wedding dress, even if she didn’t appear all too happy wearing it. After a short conversation, you moved on into the boat.

It was lavishly decorated, screaming luxury and American patriotism. There was a concerning amount of blue and red strewn everywhere. They weren’t being very subtle, were they?

You made your way onto the second floor, greeted by Kendall in a pair of sunglasses.

“Hey, loser,” he said, nudging you in the side. “You look nice.”

“Thanks,” you replied, giving him a quick once over. “You look shitty. Hiding your terrible eyebags behind those shades, are you? Not doing a very good job, by the way.”

He seemed unfazed by your jab. “You excited for the wedding?”

“Neither Connor nor Willa seem too hot about it,” you told him with a mild grimace. On your way to the boat, you heard Connor yelling at his wedding planner about the cake being inadequate.

Kendall shrugged and pulled a nonchalant expression. “It’ll blow over. They’ll be fine.”

“I know. It just feels so… fake. All of it.” You jerked your head toward a frilly blue, red, and white banner. 

“Yeah, well, yours won’t be,” he said, scrutinizing you behind those ridiculous shades of his. “With Rome, I mean.”

“Wow! Yeah, well, we aren’t quite there yet, I think.” You laughed and rolled your eyes to the ceiling. “Besides, I can’t guarantee that you’re even invited to this hypothetical wedding. Who knows? I can never tell with you guys. You’re always five minutes away from ruining each other’s lives or being best friends.”

“I’ll crash your wedding if I’m not invited. It’s my baby brother, dude. I have to be there,” he said. You couldn’t tell if it was a joke or not. 

“Good to know,” came your lighthearted retort. “I’ll be sure to save a slice of cake for you.”

With that, you bumped your fist into his bicep and walked off. Then, you spotted Roman out on deck, phone in his hand. You stepped out just in time to hear him bark out, “Don’t listen to this if you don’t want to—but I’m not… I’m not, uh, totally okay with… are you kinda just being shitty with me, Dad? ‘Cause… your son is getting married, and you can’t fucking just keep expecting me to bend over for you and being cunty, so I’m just asking. Yeah—that’s the question, actually. Are you a cunt? Okay. Give me a buzz.”

There were a few seconds of silence after he hung up. You approached him from behind and slung both your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his shoulder. 

“Hey, fuckface,” he said. He sounded tired. Distressed.

“Hey,” you quietly said in reply. “I’m proud of you.”

“For calling Dad a cunt?”

“Yeah.” You huffed out a laugh. “I really am proud of you.”

Roman leaned back against you and hummed. “I just got on this boat and I already want to fucking leave.”

“That’ll break Connor’s heart.” 

“I know. I’m his favorite brother.”

“I think Shiv is his favorite brother, actually.”

The two of you laughed, and he didn’t bother arguing back. 

“Come on. I think Kendall and Shiv are looking for you,” you said, tugging him inside.

The two of you greeted the three other Roy siblings, where Connor was giving a rundown of his plan for Logan. 

“Okay, so the idea is that Dad will pop by, be dockside, and you guys will just be up here. I think that’s cleanest,” Connor told all of you.

Shiv pursed her lips and tilted her head. “Oh… okay. You really think he’s going to pop by?”

“I spoke with Kerry,” Connor said with a smile, crossing his fingers. “He’s hoping.”

With a nod of thanks, he gave you and Roman both a quick hug, before rushing back downstairs to be with his wife-to-be. 

“Well, someone’s gotta tell him,” said Shiv. “We should tell him.”

“We should,” Kendall agreed. Both you and Roman nodded. 

“Well, Shiv, you are his favorite,” you offered. 

The woman’s face regarded you as if you’d just stabbed her in the back. “No, come on—really?”

“He likes you,” Kendall insisted.

“Fine,” she sighed with slitted eyes. “I’ll be the wedding Grinch. Fuck you.”

The three of you watched her go with muted snickers. 

Then, Roman’s phone began to buzz. He fished it out of his pocket and let out an annoyed groan upon seeing Tom’s caller ID. 

“Oh my—ugh,” Roman hastily pressed on the green answer button, “Hello? Fucky-sucky brigade, how can I help you? Yeah?” 

You leaned onto the fancy leather couches next to Kendall, who was staring out the window, watching the gentle waves roil over the surface of the harbor. “Hey, Ken?”

“Mmh?”

“I’d invite you, you know.” 

Kendall’s eyes left the waters to look at you. “What?”

“To my wedding. Before I said I couldn’t guarantee you a spot—but I’d want you there.”

Something akin to gratitude flashed across his face. Before he could say anything, Roman’s panicked voice echoed over, and the both of you snapped your heads towards him.

“What?” he said into the phone. “Tom, what are you—?”

“What?” Kendall asked, immediately on his feet. “What’s happening?”

You followed suit, the two of you hovering over Roman’s sides. 

His palms grew white over the phone. “It’s—uh, Tom. Apparently Dad’s sick. Uh, what do you mean he’s sick? Sick, like—Tom? What’s going on? Are you still there?” 

“Where is he now?” you asked, brows furrowed. Roman could only shake his head, equally clueless, pulling the phone away so he could put it on speaker.

“Is he okay?” Kendall immediately asked. “Who’s with him?”

There was a lot of rustling and rummaging. It felt as if your heart had crawled its way into your throat. 

“It—it seems bad. Very, very bad. I’m so sorry to call you like this,” Tom’s voice crackled through.

“What?” you croaked. “What is it, though? Like, a fever?”

“Can you put him on the phone?” Roman asked. His voice shook and his brows were pulled tightly together. 

Again, Kendall asked the same questions, “Who’s there? Tom, what’s going on? What happened?”

“Ah—” You could practically see Tom scratching at his head. “He was short of breath and he went into the bathroom. And, well, uh, someone heard something and we were concerned, and they went in there.”

Kendall used his hands to gesticulate to nobody in particular. “They broke in?”

“They broke in, yeah. They had the key and they got in, but he’s not responsive.”

“Not responsive?” you parroted, eyes widening. This was far worse than just… sick. “Like—is he conscious?”

The brothers started to blurt out a multitude of questions, concerns exponentially heightened. 

“Is he talking? Can he talk?” Kendall asked.

“Is he breathing?” Roman’s shoulders were hunched over, as if he was trying to shrink in on himself. 

There was a brief pause. Uncomfortable and festered with fear. 

“They’re doing chest compressions,” Tom’s voice pierced through.

Your lungs seemed to contract in panic at his words. The room felt all the smaller. 

“Oh!” Roman exclaimed in a mixture of both shock and anguish. “Fuck.”

Kendall only pressed on with his queries. “Has his heart stopped?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you guys have the machine on board? The heart thing?” Roman asked.

“The defibrillator,” you said, clutching both your anxious, wringing hands to your chest. 

How had the day turned on its head so quickly?

“Is Siobhan there?” Tom’s voice was patchy and unclear. It was hard to hear over Kendall’s barrage of frustration.

“No, she’s not,” said Roman.

“Karl said that maybe he’s breathing,” Tom claimed.

Leaning forward, you hissed out, “Karl isn’t a medical professional, Tom. Who’s trained in there?”

“The, uh, the people. The attendant. I’ll put you on speaker—here’s, uh, Karl, here—”

The older man’s voice buzzed through, “That captain has been informed. The cabin staff are receiving medical advice from their service.”

Both Kendall and Roman barked questions over each other. Faintly, you heard an additional third voice in the back of the call.

“Is that Frank?” you asked. 

Tom cleared his throat. “Yeah, so—Frank thinks you guys should speak to him.  And I can—I can hold the phone near him if you’d like.”

Roman bit down on his tongue, angry. “Why does Frank think that, Tom?”

“I guess if it’s a last chance, you know. I think it’s the last chance.”

A shudder and a glare from Roman to the phone. “What the fuck do you mean, Tom?”

“You think he’s gonna die?” you whispered, eyes stinging as you stared down at the screen, watching the seconds of the call tick by.

“He’s… he’s not in good shape. They’re doing chest compressions.”

“Well, should they be doing that?” Roman just about yelled at the phone. You placed a hand on his hunched shoulder.

Frank began talking again, “They’re getting advice, they know what they’re doing. But I think you should talk to him. I’m not sure he’s breathing.”

The two both spluttered angrily. In denial, in frustration, in utter devastation.

“We just heard that he was breathing two seconds ago, Frank. You shouldn’t be doing CPR on someone who’s heart is still going! What the fuck is going on, Frank?” Kendall gritted out.

“I’ll put you by his ear,” Tom said. “I’ll put you right by him. He’ll be able to hear you if—if he can.”

If you hadn’t been so hyperfocused on the call, you would’ve realized that your entire body began to simultaneously tremble and tense, like a plank of wood caught in a hurricane. 

“Uh, you might wanna get Shiv, so she can—” 

“Yeah, we’ll—we’ll get her,” said Roman.

“Okay, I’ll put you by him now.”

“Is he okay?”

“No, Rome, he’s not okay.”

“You can speak now. Go ahead.”

There was a blistering silence. Roman gestured for Kendall to take the phone first, but he shook his head. He turned to you, but you weren’t even looking in his direction, clamoring for your own phone to try and contact Karolina. Your hands seemed not to work in coordination with your mind, because you struggled getting your phone to unlock, and then struggled even more to open up the right app to get to your contacts list.

This left Roman to speak to his maybe-dead dad on his own. He hurried around the room, as if there was going to be a corner on this wretched yacht that would make this somewhat easier to say. He ended up crouching by the end of the leather couch. 

“Hey, Dad. I, uh, hope you’re okay. You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.” Was he reassuring himself or his father? “Because you’re a—you’re a monster, and you’re going to win. ‘Cause you just—you just win. That’s what you do. And you’re, uh… you’re a good man. You’re a good dad. A very good dad. Uh… you did a good job. No—no. I’m sorry, I don’t know how to do that.”

With that, Roman unceremoniously stood up and shoved his phone right into your palms, tugging away your own. “It’s your turn.”

Your shaking grew all the worse, but you put on a brave face and held it up to your face.

“Oh, uhm—hi, Uncle Logan. You, uhm… oh—I wasn’t prepared or this, you know, I would’ve… I would’ve, if I’d known, I wouldn’t have…”

It occurred to you that you managed to say absolutely nothing in the precious few seconds he had left. This sent you spiraling into another bout of anxious trembling. You only barely registered Roman’s own shaking hand on your side.

“You were so—such a big role in my life. So important. And—and, and, I really couldn’t have done anything without your help. Thank you. For everything. I… I love you, Uncle Lo. Really, I do. And I love your kids like my own siblings, and—and Rome, I’m—I love him. I promise I’ll, uh, I’ll take care of him. I just—uhm, I can’t really, there are just so many things you…”

Your nails scratched over your chest as you heaved out a shuddering breath. Realizing you couldn’t finish, you made your way over to Kendall and handed the phone to him with teary eyes.

“Okay,” Kendall said with the phone by his nose, blinking helplessly at the ground. “Hang in there. Yeah? Uhm…”

“It’ll be okay,” Roman softly whispered to him.

“It’ll be okay,” Kendall repeated into the phone. “We love you, Dad. Okay? We love you. I love you, Dad. I do. I love you, okay? Uh—and… it’s okay. Even though you fucking… I don’t know. I can’t—I can’t forgive you.”

You sniffled and wiped a stray tear with the sleeve of your dress. 

After a few final words, Kendall handed the phone back to Roman. Tom’s voice crackled through again, asking for Shiv. 

“Ken’s gonna get Shiv,” Roman said, voice small and child-like. Kendall nodded and staggered his way out of the room.

There was more commotion on the other end of the line. 

“What’s going on now?” Roman asked. 

“I, uhm—there’s, I’m not so sure—” Tom’s glitchy voice replied. “I think he’s gone, Roman.”

“What?” you asked.

“I think—I don’t know, I think there might not be a pulse, they’re not—”

A few seconds passed, with only scuffling noises on the other end. Shiv and Kendall appeared through the doorway just a minute later.

“They think he’s gone,” Roman told his sister as he handed the phone to her. “They think he’s dead.”

“What?” Shiv asked, her eyes welling up almost instantaneously. “No! I… I can’t have that.”

Tom spoke a few words to his wife, telling her that he was putting the phone back by Logan’s ear. Shiv strode away to ramble to her father in a semi-panicked fashion. She called him Dad at first, which spiraled into whisper-cries of Daddy, and angry curses intermingled with a multitude of I love yous.

You tugged at your face, aching with all the tension you were carrying. Roman’s hand was on your arm, but he left your side half a minute later to take the phone away from Shiv, who seized up with incoherent noises through blurred tears. He hugged her, but she didn’t return it, frozen on the spot.

The siblings all asked him more questions. 

“Is he okay at all?” Kendall asked.

“He’s not okay, no,” replied Tom. “He’s not.”

Shiv sucked in a shaky breath. “Is he gone? Tom?”

A brief pause.

“They say his heart stopped and his breathing stopped, too. For a while, maybe.”

“Okay, but that doesn’t mean he’s dead, medically!” Roman asserted. “Right?”

You didn’t have the heart to tell him that it did mean exactly that.

“I don’t know,” came Tom’s calm voice. “They’re still doing chest compressions.”

Kendall began to order Tom around, then Frank, then Jess. Something about getting the best doctor in the world. The best airplane medicine expert, whatever that meant. He disappeared out of the room to go up to the deck. You took a seat on the couch and sank your face into your palms.

When Kendall returned, his face was solemn and set in stone. “Frank thinks he’s gone,” he said.

Roman sank down on the ground, right by your feet. Shiv took a seat next to you.

“Why didn’t you come and get me?” Shiv sniffled, looking up at her big brother. 

“I—Shiv, I did. We did,” Kendall said.

“No, but I was right out there. How long was it happening before?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m—I wasn’t thinking—” Kendall shook his head.

Roman drew in a sharp breath. “There was no time. I promise you, there was no time at all.”

Kendall took his little sister’s hand and repeated his apologies. The sight made more tears spill over your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, guys,” you hoarsely said. “He’s not even my dad.”

“No, it’s…” Roman patted your knee. “He was. He is. Kind of.”

“It’s just—on the phone Tom said that Kerry spoke to him. Quite a bit,” Shiv said, voice bitter.

“I don’t know,” said Kendall. “I don’t—we don’t know if he could hear us.”

Another sniffle. Shiv nodded a bit. “Yeah. I’m just sad, I guess.”

Roman shifted uncomfortably, looking up at his siblings and you with large, worried eyes. “Uh—do we know if he was on his phone at all? Like, if he checked his messages or anything?”

Faintly, you recalled Roman leaving a voice message for him. Right. Roman had called his father a cunt. And you’d said you were proud of him for it. Nausea pressed fervently against the inside of your stomach. Roman drew in a sharp, stressful breath.

“Rome, it’s okay,” Kendall assured him. “We’re okay. You did good.”

The words didn’t sit with you well. You did good—as if it were one last performance before the curtains closed. The circus monkey and the ringleader. 

“Yeah, I know,” he quickly replied. Roman’s expression crumpled. “I don’t know if—I just don’t know. Like, if I said… I just feel like I didn’t—did I even say I loved him?”

Kendall nodded. “I think so, yeah.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t,” Roman asserted. The grip he had on your knee tightened. “Do you know?”

“Ro, hon, I’m—” The words lodged in your throat as you reached out to brush your knuckles over his cheekbone. “He knows.”

“No, but I really don’t think I did—” Roman jerked away to lean closer to the phone Tom was calling through. “Tom, could you put me back to his ear for—ergh, fuck it. Never mind. I don’t know. Maybe just keep the line open.”

If Tom replied, you didn’t hear.

Instead, you glanced out the doorway, where you saw Connor speaking to some other wedding guests. He didn’t know.

“Oh, fuck. We need to get Connor. We need to tell him,” Roman said, following your gaze. “Can you do it, Ken? I don’t think I can. I mean, I could, I definitely could, I just—”

Kendall nodded solemnly, and stood up. Shiv offered to go with him, rising to her feet and drawing in a deep breath in a fruitless attempt to maintain her long-gone composure. 

“Thank you,” Roman said from the ground. He crossed his legs and leaned against the side of your shins. In turn, you placed your hands on his shoulders and squeezed reassuringly.

“I don’t remember the last thing I said to him,” you mumbled, voice filled with irritating tremors and warbles. “In that karaoke room. I don’t remember any of it, and I wasn’t even drunk or anything, I just—”

Roman pressed his cheek against your thigh, shutting his eyes. “I think you were okay. I don’t know. Maybe he heard us. And you have such a nice voice, y’know? Maybe it was good for him. If he heard it.”

The two of you sat in stuffy silence for a few minutes more. 

The three other siblings came to fetch the two of you sooner than you would’ve liked—whisking all of you upstairs to a more secluded room. Connor had tears in his eyes when all of you filed in, face wrought with anguish. “What happened?” he asked, sounding utterly devastated.

Roman apologized over and over again, but made no attempts to explain to him. Instead, he reached forward to grab at his oldest brother’s arm in a strange sort of semi-hug as Kendall filled Connor in on what happened.

“Well, actually, we don’t really know that he’s gone,” Roman asserted to the rest of you, drawing away from them. 

Both Kendall and Shiv began to clamor over the likelihood of Logan’s death. They seemed surprised that Roman was clinging onto such hope that he was alive. You watched Roman with such sad eyes that when he looked at you, he found himself growing even more upset.

“What?” he asked you crossly, brows drawing together. “Why are you looking at me like that? He—he could still fucking be alive! We don’t know! Are you going to trust, what, like, fucking Frank and Karl’s word on it? Don’t look at me like I’m crazy!”

“Right, well, you sound delusional, Rome,” Shiv tried telling him. You could tell she was trying to lay it easy on him and be nice, but it didn’t quite sound that way.

The siblings argued some more. Roman kept denying that Logan was dead, while Shiv gritted out that he’s gone. 

“All I’m saying is that we don’t know for sure. And—and until we do know, it’s just not a very nice thing to say, is it? So just fucking stop!” Roman yelled the last word out, and it ricocheted across the room like a bullet would. 

They all fell silent for a moment.

“Okay,” Shiv said. She looked to be on the verge of crying again. With quiet, reassuring words, Connor wrapped an arm around his little sister and let her lean against him.

“Roman,” you said, making his eyes snap to you. They were red and looked so tired. You were sure yours looked just the same. When you spread your arms as a non-verbal invite, he surged forward and buried himself into your embrace. The two of you held onto each other as if you were both lifeboats for one another in this vast sea of fucking nothing.

Kendall, disillusioned, went back to staring out the window.

“He didn’t want us together,” Roman choked out, forehead drooped onto your sternum. “He fucking—he told me to end it, and I didn’t listen, and I just never listened to him…”

Both your hands rubbed up and down his back. “I know. I know, Rome. I love you even if he didn’t want me to.”

Your words made Roman’s shoulders curl closer to his chest. Closer to you. “Fuck. Me, too, okay? Me, too.”

Half an hour later, the boat began moving away from the dock, much to all of your chagrin. 

Hugo had also come into the room, acting as a liaison. He told the lot of you that the plane-folk were starting to draft a statement to release to the news. The siblings angrily called them to ask what was going on—which did little to sway them.

Not too long after, Gerri came in to offer her condolences. Her presence made Roman all the more turbulent, and he lashed out at her, telling her to fuck off. 

Shiv asked her godmother if maybe they could stay up in the air a bit longer to give everyone some more time to think—and Roman told her to fuck off, too. At that point, you stepped in to say that it’s probably best not to delay the inevitable. Thankfully, Roman didn’t tell you to fuck off at that.

“Just to say,” Kendall said once both Hugo and Gerri hurried off to answer calls and get more information, “every single thing we say and do today… it’s all going in the memoirs, going in the fucking congressional record, it’s coming up at board meetings, it’s going in SEC filings.”

“God, Kendall,” you said, pinching the space between your brows. “Your grief is not a fucking spectacle, okay? It’s not—none of this is meant to be a performance. You can… you can be a fucking human being for once, okay?”

“No, but, listen, I’m agreeing with you,” he said, holding out a hand. “If we tell them to circle the plane around to buy us time, then some fucking rumors start up, and we get crucified for being cold-hearted, or—I don’t even know. We’re highly liable to misinterpretation right now. What we do today will always be what we did the day our father died. So I’m agreeing with you, Y/N. We shouldn’t delay the inevitable.”

Nose flaring, Shiv shook her head in a frustrated manner.

“So, you know, let’s grieve and whatever,” Kendall continued on, “but not do anything that restricts our future freedom of movement.”

“Okay,” you whispered, nodding in agreement. “Okay, Kendall. We’ll be careful.”

The siblings stepped out to discuss drafting statements themself, and you told them you’d arrange transport off the boat to the airport, where they’d be landing. 

Before you reconvened with them, however, you dropped by to see Connor one last time.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered with a frown that felt strangely childish, enveloping him in a hug. “I’m sorry your dad died, and I’m sorry I won’t be here to see you get married. Everything’s gone to shit and I hate that I can’t do anything about it.”

“It’s okay,” Connor said, rubbing your back comfortingly, not unsimilar to what you did with Roman. “It’s okay, kiddo. I appreciate you coming here to tell me.”

You pulled away, using the back of your palm to brush away your tears. “I got you, uhm—as a wedding present, I got you an oil painting kit. It’s not much, but I thought it’d be fun to try it out with you one day. I guess I just didn’t think—I thought I’d be able to give it to you after the ceremony, but… I don’t think I’ll be around. I’m sorry.”

Connor nodded, and smiled at you sadly. “It’s like you haven’t changed at all in twenty years, you know that? I feel so fuckin’ old.”

“Have a happy wedding, Con,” you told him. With that, you turned on your heel and headed off, breathing out a sigh of relief upon seeing a smaller boat right by the one you were on, ready to take you back to land.

One boat ride, one helicopter flight, and one private car later, you arrived at Teterboro Airport, where their plane touched down. Logan was announced dead at arrival. Roman balked and nearly puked up what little he’d eaten on the boat—you rubbed his back and told him everything was okay as he dry-retched nothing in the airport bathroom. There were already dozens of news reporters and journalists flooding the entrance-way for the impromptu press conference the Roy siblings were holding.

Before the sun was down, the news was spilled at the hands of Shiv. It was short and concise, over in no more than a minute. Questions, questions, and more questions—none of which were answered.

“Are we going to go see him?” Roman asked once it was all over. The plane was in view.

“Do we have to?” Kendall replied.

“I mean, he’s not going to be angry if we don’t,” Shiv replied. The rest of you smiled in silence.

Then, Kendall opened his arms, and the four of you leaned into a brief group hug. You kissed Shiv’s cheek and told her to get home safe. She nodded and took her leave. 

Roman jutted his head in the direction of the plane. “I’m gonna go see him. You coming, Kendall?” 

The oldest scuffed his shoe into the concrete pathway. “I’m gonna—I’ll watch him come down from here.”

“Okay,” said Roman. There was no surprise in his tone, but it lacked any sort of harsh judgment. 

“I’ll come with you,” you told Roman, taking his hand. “If you’re going to go see him, I’ll come with you.”

“Didn’t expect anything less,” he replied, eyes soft and sad. 

With a nod of goodbye at Kendall, the two of you left him to stand by the airport exit. 

“Do you think he would’ve been okay with us being together eventually, though?” Roman asked after a while, growing increasingly nervous as you neared the plane. Even now that his father was dead, he was still grasping for his approval.

There was a moment of contemplative silence. You wondered if you truly knew the answer to that, or if you were simply feeding into the kind-hearted caricature of a man Logan often didn’t live up to. 

“I think so,” you replied. Roman squeezed your hand. “I think he would’ve been proud of us for sticking together, even if he didn’t want us to at first. He would’ve respected you for it, eventually, because you didn’t take his shit.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” You beckoned to the stairs leading up into the plane’s cabin. “You ready?”

“No.” Roman’s jaw squared. “I’m scared, I think. But I have to go see him. You don’t have to come, you know. You don't have to be so fucking good all the time. You can just leave if you want to.”

With a contemplative hum, you nodded once after barely giving his words any thought. “I know I don’t have to be here. I know it all, Rome. But I’ll come with you anyway. Anywhere you go.”

Roman raised your conjoined hands, kissed your knuckles in an appreciative manner, and led the way inside.

[sanjifucker42069]

Peaches

Sanji keeps finding you sneaking food. Just what are you hiding?

Note; girl, rats are cute, and Sanji’s association with rats melts my heart 🥺🥺🥺

Word count: 1416

The third time Sanji caught you sneaking food out of the larder is when he grew suspicious.

"Do I not feed you enough love?" He interrogated, You jumped, hands holding onto your small bag. It had to be past midnight. You turned to him looking mildly terrified, eyes scanning for an exit plan. Sanji quirked a perfect brow when you didn't respond. "Well?"

Nothing. You drew close the bag in your hands, peeking in one last time. You seemed so skittish tonight. What were you hiding? Sanji didn't have time to consider what before you shot upright, speaking a mile a minute.

"HAHAHA! I'm sorry Sanji, you got me! I was feeling extra peckish tonight HAHAHA!" You slapped at your leg as if he told you the world's funniest joke, before robotically moving to the door. "Well I've had my fill so I'll just be going back to bed. It won't happen again. Good night Sanji."

"Hold it." He ordered. You froze, a visible sweat on your brow. You let out a little whimper. He softened, and with a sigh, motioned to the table. With palpable dejection, you made your way to the table, ready to be scolded. "Love, you know I keep a thorough inventory of our food. Normally I'd think you were giving it to Luffy, but there's hardly any food going missing. So what's going on?"

You twiddled with your thumbs. "I was just a little hungry." You were still avoiding his gaze. Sanji wasn't convinced.

"Love, I'm not going to be mad."

"Yeah you are..." Your voice was soft, trailing off.  Sanji sighed, pulling out a smoke and hurriedly lighting it. He took a long drag to calm himself. Why would you ever think he'd be mad at you? He honestly felt a little heartbroken that you didn't trust him.

"Love-"

Squeak.

You flustered. Sanji narrowed his eyes, blowing out a plume of smoke.

"What was that?"

"My stomach?" You tried, clearly nervous. 

"Try again."

You sighed, bringing the bag up to rest on the table. He saw you fiddle with the drawstring. Upon hearing you hum, he stared, seeing you looking at him through lidded eyes. "Promise not to be mad?" 

Yeah yeah whatever to get you to stop breaking his heart with those puppy eyes, he thought. Instead he said, "I could never be, love."

You undid the drawstring. Opening the bag another squeak rang out, echoing in the silent kitchen. You cringed. For a few seconds nothing happened, and Sanji could feel himself growing antsy. Then, a small grey head popped up, whiskers twitching.

A rat!!?!?! 

"Her name is Peaches." You muttered. Sanji was shocked, staring at the little creature before him. 'Peaches' seemed to stare back at him, holding her dainty paws in front of her as she rose to two feet. Sanji noted the small yellow ribbon adorning her. And, was that a tiny bandage around her ankle?

"Huh." He mused, taking a drag. As he blew another plume of smoke, the rat squeaked. 

"I'm sorry Sanji. I knew you'd be mad if you found out we had rats, but I swear it's only Peaches, I found her on the ship last week. She had a bad ankle. I saw her crawl onto the ship from the docks. Normally I'd put her back but she was hurting and....I just couldn't leave her there to die."

Peaches moved closer to Sanji, staring at him. If Sanji fed into his delusions he could swear the rat was studying him.

"She's clean I promise!" You cringed at how loud you were. Moving to a quieter tone you looked at Peaches. "She had a bath. She's actually really chill."

"So she's why you're sneaking morsels?" 

You nodded. He sighed. Sanji weirdly felt his heart swell. You'd save a little rat on death's door? You were a pirate. Your gentleness always stood out to him, but the way you pet the little rat, cooing at it had him feel his heart race. You reached out and grabbed his hands. He stared at the gesture, cigarette hanging from his mouth limply. He dragged his eyes up to meet yours, startled at how determined you look. 

"I'm sorry. I'll stop sneaking food. But I won't get rid of Peaches." You shook his hands for emphasis. "I promise she won't come into the kitchen! Just...please don't tell anyone."

"You want her around? Even if I don't?" He asked. You met him with a fiery stare. 

"I'm sorry you feel that way. But yeah... You're dear to me, but this little creature deserves empathy too, and she's not hurting anyone." Peaches squeaked as if to back up your claim. 

Out of all the scenarios, you didn't expect Sanji to give you that soft smile and remove a hand. You watched with bated breath as he instead set his sights on Peaches, holding his hand out. 

Peaches sniffed his hand experimentally. Clearly she judged him to be safe, as she crawled into his hand. Your heart stopped at how soft Sanji looked. He spoke around the cigarette, staring down at the little rat.

"You're too sweet." His eyes flicked up to yours. "It doesn't worry me. So long as she isn't a nuisance in the kitchen, it really doesn't matter to me. It's sweet that you are so dedicated to her." Peaches crawled up Sanji's arm, settling on his shoulder. He gave a lopsided smile. Sanji removed the cigarette from his mouth. "She's cute. Y'know some of the first meals I ever made were for rats." 

You stared at him. "Really?"

He laughed, a faraway look in his eyes. "Yeah, they're cute, and they're not picky eaters...but let's not talk about that" He peeked towards Peaches. "So what's your favourite then, miss?" 

When Sanji looked back at you he was stunned at how wide your smile was, tears in your eyes. "She likes cake, it's not good for her. She does like apples though."

"Apples?" He laughed, disbelief clear in his tone. "Not Peaches?"

You blushed. Sanji felt his heart skip a beat at your blush. "Oh. There was a book I read as a kid, it had a rat named Peaches."

"Hmm, an apple cake then? I'll make you one when you're better Peaches to celebrate, okay?" He reached back over and grabbed your hand. You stared into his eyes, their soft warmth drawing you in. "Love, you're too nice, y'know? I don't know any other pirate who'd cry over a rat." You started to bluster but he shushed you. "It's not a bad thing. You're a good person."

Sanji went to take a drag from his cigarette when he felt tiny hands snatch it from his grasp. He gasped, offended. The two of you watched as the little rat skittered down Sanji's arm, cigarette bitten sideways.

"Peaches!" You scolded. Peaches pointedly avoided you, taking the cigarette back into both hands and stubbing it out. You laughed. "Oh Sanji, I'm so sorry. I guess she doesn't like smoke!"

Sanji joined in, laughing freely. "Guess not. Lucky she's cute. You too." You felt your blush darken. Sanji rose to his feet, giving you a wink. "How 'bout some tea? Maybe something for the little one too, yeah?"

You nodded, heart missing a beat at ‘little one’. Sanji rounded the table, pulling you into a side hug. You felt him place a featherlight kiss on your hair. As quick as it started it stopped, and the man headed to the kitchen. The domesticity was killing you. Peaches gave you a pointed look. You stuck your tongue out at her. 

"Sanji?" You asked quietly. The man hummed in response, placing the kettle on to boil. "Thank you. You're a good man."

Sanji smiled. "You're too kind, love."

You rose to join the man, quickly glueing yourself to his side. Sanji welcomed you in, arm wrapping around your shoulder. You snuggled into his side. The two of you basking in each other. You pulled his tie lightly coaxing him to your level. With a smile, you kissed his cheek gently. Sanii blushed lightly, stunned by your actions. Behind you the kettle whistled. The two of you sharing the same thought:

I could get used to this.

And so the three of you settled in for a late night, an odd storybook tea party: a gentle chef with a hidden past, a sensitive pirate with a heart of gold, and a little rat with a dislike of smoke. 

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Life Is Short So Make It Sweet

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Caught In The Rain

Summary- 6.2k Curtis Everett x Plus!Sized Reader. Spring showers have taken over life and everyone is trying to escape the rain. Curtis stumbles upon a little stowaway while he is trying to get to his dry home where his Honey is waiting for him.

Warnings- Mentions of asshole Jake.

A/N- Hey everyone! Been a hot minute but thanks for sticking around to read their story! Special shout out to @mumbles411 and @what-is-your-plan-today for the time you all have spent editing my messes. Dividers made by the talented @firefly-graphics. Happy Reading! and remember reblogs and comments are so appreciated.

Chapter Twenty-Seven / Masterlist

“Fucking hell.” Curtis cursed out while the rain splattered around him, the month of April certainly proving to be wet with spring showers. He was trying to get an engine moved into the overhead shelter out of the rain with Grey and Edgar so they could at least switch out the parts without being waterlogged. The mud sloughed around them while the broken machine sluggishly made its way to the overhead. All three of them pausing from their work to look out from under the shelter’s roof. The grey skies showed no sign of the much needed sunshine. 

“What was it about April showers?” Edgar asked and Curtis, thoroughly grumpy with feeling soaked through all his layers, growled out. 

“Pissing me off is what it’s about. It could let up for at least a couple hours to get those parts changed.” 

Grey handed over a towel to Curtis, letting him dry his face off. “I guess we could hold off till tomorrow? Maybe the weather will break.” 

“Tomorrow is too late, Gilliam told us to finish this today so it can leave the yard.” Curtis sighed as he handed the towel off to Edgar, who ran it over his hair, spiking it up as he dried himself off. “So unless we wanna be here all night, let's get this done.” 

Several hours and several parts later, Curtis was finally clocking out. Already he texted you that he was going to be late and that if you wanted to head back to your apartment, he understood. 

You were sure to send a photo back of you lounging in his living room with a book in your lap and cup of tea in hand, saying not a chance was he getting rid of you that easily. As if he would ever want that, Curtis thought to himself. 

He flicked off lights as he made his way out of the main office, the last one to leave for the day. Curtis double checked that it was all locked up before he made the run for his truck across the parking section, trying to avoid the rain although it was a losing battle. The drops were streaking down almost sideways, the wind picking up the more the storm raged on. He dug for his keys in his coat, willing them to unlock his door. 

Grasping them, he yanked them out of his pocket but fumbled, making his keys drop into the mud at his feet. “Damn it.” He groaned, sweeping down to grasp them when a pair of small green eyes stared at him from under his truck. 

They blinked at one another for a second before Curtis lowered down more into a squat, trying to peer under his truck at the little stowaway. “Hey little fella, you can’t stay under there.” Curtis softened his voice, reaching out a finger enough to encourage the pair of eyes forward. “Come on out, I won't hurt you.” 

The green eyes blinked at him and then a pitiful squeal was given, making Curtis laugh a bit. “You and me both buddy, how about you come here, let me take a look at you.” Curtis clicked his tongue encouraging, really hoping that it was a kitten or puppy taking refuge under his truck and not some wild animal trying to get out of the rain. 

Finally, the little black shadow started coming into the light. A very scrawny, barely able to walk properly black kitten came out, big green eyes almost too big for its face and water droplets rolling off its whiskers. “Well, damn kid…” Curtis’s palm swept around the little body, scooping him easily into his palm to bring him in against his chest and tuck him into his jacket. “You’re no bigger than a flea, what are you doing under there?” 

Pulling up to a stand, he was quick to unlock his truck and get them both out of the rain. Once inside, he opened his coat again to see the black kitten huddling into the warmth of his sweater, fur all matted and mud streaked. “Guess you’re coming home with me kid.” He sighed, knowing that now he had this kitten, there was no way he could just leave him all alone in the parking lot. “Wait till Honey gets a look at you.” 

You liked being at Curtis’s home alone. It was cozy with the big picture window in the livingroom facing the street, you could curl up and watch the rain drizzle beyond his front porch while being warm and dry. You had spent the better part of the afternoon browsing the wall of books behind the couch, plucking out one you assumed was Lillian’s at one point. A harlequin cowboy romance- the storyline about a lonely schoolteacher and her new beau, the newest cowboy in town. 

It was a silly over the top romance with lots of drama and turned into a vivid page turner for you as the afternoon slowly melded into the evening. Curtis had already messaged you that he was going to be late and should just go back to your apartment if you didn’t feel like waiting. But you weren’t ready to leave your little happy place for the lonely apartment. It just felt like a different kind of empty at Curtis’s house, one that made you feel at peace. 

So you made yourself right at home, around dinner time you did clean up the few dishes he must have used that morning and pulled dinner together for the both of you. Putting your casserole into the oven, the sound of a truck pulling into the driveway let you know that Curtis finally made it back home. 

Quick to set a timer, you clicked open the garage door to see him step out, soaked to the bone from the look of him. “Long day?” You asked while leaning into the doorway. 

“Days like today never seem to end.” He grumbled, his hand cupping a part of his jacket near his chest. “Umm, you're not allergic to cats are you?” 

“No, why?” You straightened up, curious now and a tinge of wonder and excitement dipped into your voice. “Is that what is in your coat?” 

Curtis unzipped part of it and reached in to pull out a little ball of black fur. Now there was no holding you back as you skipped down the couple steps into the garage and tentatively brushed your fingers against the kitten in his palm, cooing softly. “Oh baby, you are so cute.” You scritched behind one little ear and couldn't stop the way you were grinning as the little kitten started to purr. “Where did he come from Curtis? Are you keeping him? Does he have a name? Is it a him or her?” You scooped the kitten into your palms, cuddling the little baby to your chest and started to bring it inside. “You must be starving. Let’s see what Curtis has for you.” Curtis was left behind without getting any answers to the questions you bombarded him with. 

He followed you, pausing to shed off his boots and wet outer clothes to hang up and dry. “Found him under the truck trying to get out of the rain. I have no clue where he came from.” Once he had his jacket hung up and boots tilted near the heater vent to help dry them out, he followed you into the kitchen while you were searching his cupboards. “I have no idea if it’s a boy or girl, I have just been calling it him.” Curtis moved in behind you, going through his upper part of the cupboards while you searched through the bottom. 

“Tuna? Or anything soft? He doesn't look all that old, can he even eat solids?” You fretted while the kitten clung to your sweater, staring wide eyed at all the surroundings. 

“If I don’t have something to use, I will run out to the corner store and get him something.” Curtis pushed aside jars of salsa and canned veggies, scowling at his lack of acceptable food for the kitten. Then a little lonely can of tuna was found, and he grabbed it to hold it up in victory. “But this should work for tonight at least.” 

“Perfect, I will get this baby all cleaned up and some food in that belly.” You peeled the kitten off your sweater and cupped him in your hands, finally getting a good look at Curtis. “You’re soaked.” Your free hand went to grab his shirt, squeezing it a bit to feel how damp it was. “I got this, how about you go dry out and get changed.” 

“You sure you don’t want help?” Curtis questioned, although grateful for the chance to get out of his work clothes finally. 

“Handsome I got this, please before you get chilled and sick.” You glanced at the oven to look at the timer. “That casserole still has a good forty-five minutes at least. 

“Damn Pretty Girl, you're really taking care of me… us.” He added the kitten in your hold after a second thought, clasping onto your chin to tilt your face up a bit and place a kiss on your mouth, taking his time to draw out a soft whimper and sure your toes were curling at the affection. “Thank you.” He whispered before splitting away, making for the stairs, the upstairs shower and his bedroom calling his attention now. 

His girl making herself right at home in his house, and damn he liked that just fine. 

While Curtis went upstairs to clean up, you assessed the kitten in your hold. Big eyes blinked up at you before the loudest squeak came from his little pink mouth, protesting the lack of action you were doing. “Okay! Okay… how about a quick rinse in the sink? Get some of this mud off.” 

The kitten didn't like that, protested the whole time you had him in the sink, the running water warm while you worked your fingers through his fur and holding onto his scruff. But you were quick, soon wrapping him into a hand towel and carefully fluffing him up till he looked like an little angry furball. 

Setting him onto the floor, the kitten scampered to under the table, flicking each little paw one at a time as if being wet was his biggest worry. You rolled your eyes at him while a little pink tongue defiantly started licking at his chest. With a can opener in hand, you started to peel the tuna’s top open. “You know being clean and wet is much better then muddy and wet.” You squeezed some of the juice onto a saucer while also scooping out some of the meat. You were answered with a little cackle of a mew. “Oh? You agreeing with me?” You set the saucer well away from the table, knowing Curtis would be back down soon and not wanting the kitten underfoot. “Come on lil guy.” You coaxed for him, hoping the smell would bring him out. 

It didn’t though, the kitten blinked at you from the shadows under the table and then resorted to cleaning himself once again. “Alright, suit yourself.” Your hands slapped on your knees and with a slight moan, you pushed yourself back to a stand. 

“Hey, you okay?” Curtis asked as he came back into the kitchen, out of his wet clothes, freshly showered and looking more like himself. A black tee and his grey sweats were his current comfy clothes of choice, ones which you appreciated on many levels. Taking an appraising look, you let yourself sink into his arms finally, cuddling up to his chest for a moment to bury your face into the soft tee, his soap still strong smelling as you inhaled deeply. “Mmh, very. Just a bit sore from my workout today. I got him all washed, and some food out but he hasn’t come out from under the table.” You shrugged while leaning down enough to peek and see where the kitten was now. 

“He will when he gets a whiff of it.” Curtis rubbed at your back, soothing his hand where he figured you might be a bit sore. “Me on the other hand, I'm starving. What’s cooking?” 

“Cheesy chicken and broccoli casserole…” You pulled away to look in the oven. “And it's just about done.” When you turned back around, you found Curtis kneeling under the table with the little saucer of tuna, encouraging the kitten to eat. 

Without saying anything, you turned the oven off and moved to the floor next to Curtis, both of you now feeding the little stray. He started voraciously eating the tuna off both of your fingers. After a few moments, you softly nudge Curtis’s shoulder. “What are we going to do with him tonight?” 

It was such a soft sight for you to witness. Curtis holding out his large fingers for the kitten to nibble tuna off of, everything in him was about being as gentle as possible. “I can put him in the upstairs bathroom for now, make a bed for him in the tub in case he has an accident.” 

“And then?” Your mouth twists at the thought of having to find him a new home. 

“Then maybe contact the local ASPCA… see where to go from there.” 

You nod in understanding, Curtis had never mentioned wanting pets in his home before. “I used to have a cat a long time ago. Her name was Friskey, although I called her Friskababes.” You finally stretched out to lay on your belly, Curtis doing the same next to you while you took turns feeding the kitten. 

It didn't matter that dinner was cooling above you on the stove or if anyone walked into Curtis's house, they would find you two lying on the kitchen floor, heads under the table. You both were in your own little world, taking care of the kitten who was starting to slow down his feasting. Pink tongue wiping over his whiskers as he waddled now to Curtis, purring as he head-butted against his bearded chin affectionately. “I never had a cat before. I had an ex that did, every time I would go visit her place, the cat didn’t like me.” 

You smirked while watching the scene before you, your arms folded and your head resting on them. The kitten was working on wedging himself into the neck of Curtis’s shirt, batting at his gold chain. “Yeah well, I think this one likes you, a lot. Guess it’s a good thing you're not with that ex anymore.” 

“Well I like this one a lot more too.” Curtis admitted while the kitten curled up against the crook of his neck and shoulder, his little claws kneading into his tee shirt. “Both the cat and the partner.” He winked at you with a brilliant blue teasing glance, making you huff in a soft laugh. 

“Smooth move Stud. You know…” You inched over closer to him, lifting enough to whisper into his ear. “Seeing you taking care of this helpless kitten… it is sexy as hell. Too bad you are too busy taking care of him to do anything about it.” You nipped at his ear lobe, giggling as you slipped out from under the table before Curtis could react. 

“It is?” He couldn’t move out, not like you were able to with the now snoozing black bundle of fur cuddled up against his neck. But he wriggled out, cupping the little protesting kitten, scooping him up while he moved to stand, catching sight of you up the stairs. “Listen kid… You are gonna chill for a while? I got a sweet little Honey to tend to.” He lectured the kitten while making his way up the stairs. The kitten meowed loudly, either in protest for being bothered while napping or in understanding. 

Curtis didn’t really care, he was just paying attention to you teasing from the door, peeking around it to watch him stalking down the upstairs hallway for you. You gave a bit of a pout. “You were supposed to take your time, you know, not wake the baby.” 

“He is fine.” Curtis assured you, holding up the yawning little black mass that made up the kitten. In the corner of the room was a laundry basket full of his clean clothes, and he deposited the kitten into it before twisting to catch you, knowing you were getting ready to bolt out of reach. You laughed as he pulled you back into his chest, his mouth teasing against a sweet spot behind your ear. “Now tell me more about this sexy as hell business.” 

His hands slid up the front of your shirt, cupping your breasts and teasing at your nipples through your bra. You wriggled against him, sure to push your ass against his groin. “You know what those sweatpants do to me.” You whined as your head tilted to the side, “My big giant of a boyfriend going all gentle and taking care of a kitten? That’s like right out of a book.” 

His big hands squeezed your breasts, pulling just enough to make the tingles shoot through you, arching yourself into him for more of his touch. “Fuck Honey I love when you say shit like that.” He twisted you to face him and walk backwards to the bed, pulling up the shirt you wore right over your head and making you fall with a bounce onto his bed. 

You wriggled up to give him room to follow, grinning at him while you worked your bra off. “Like what?” 

Curtis hovered over you, his gaze now on your breasts, like he couldn't look away while a hand fondled one, pulling up over you enough so he could get his mouth on you. Dragging a nipple into his mouth, sensitive from his earlier teasing, it tightened against his tongue; the feeling of his hot wet mouth made you keen at the sensation, pulling and sucking on it until you scratched at the bed to grab the sheets. “When you call me your boyfriend. It’s like I’m yours and I love you for it.” He said after he popped your peak from his mouth, looking at you now, his gaze an intense sliver of blue and blown pupils, making your breath catch for a moment.

“You are mine and I am yours.” You took a moment to sink back onto the bed, catching your breath with a few deep gasps.

He rumbled from between your cleavage now, his tongue lavishing against your skin as he shifted down to kiss and nibble over your belly. “Well it’s a turn-on for me when you just call me yours, you know?” His fingers weren’t far, rubbing along your sides and down to your hips, shifting you more under him and sinking down over you while he stretched out to lay over your body. 

You caught his chain to drag him closer, arching up to meet him and kiss him. Your tongue slipped to meet his and tangle till it turned lust-filled and frenzied. Curtis groaned against your mouth, hooking an arm around you and lifting the both of you till he was sitting back on his heels and you were wrapping your legs around his trim waist, in his lap to grind against him. “You are mine Curtis and I see all of you.” Your hands swept up his back and grasped the back of his neck to hold on while your hips rocked in his lap, pushing your sensitive center against him, moaning softly whenever he pressed up against you, making excited tingles race up your spine. “Not just the man who is ridiculously handsome with his rugged good looks and blue eyes that can melt the panties off anyone.” You felt him scoff a bit, but his lips pulled in a grin while he dipped back to your collarbone now, retrailing back to your breasts. Red crept up the back of his neck, a clear sign that he was affected by you. 

He once again eased you onto the bed, looming over you before dropping his weight to push you into the mattress and trap you underneath him. Scratches of his beard against your sensitive skin made you wriggle underneath him while his weight continued to pin you in place. “But the side that loves his friends like family, treats me like a fucking goddess, stargazes, reads, takes in little stray kittens found under trucks.” Your voice went a bit higher with emotion while he mapped your body, not leaving an inch of your chest or belly unexplored. 

It’s like the kitten knew he was being mentioned cause all of a sudden the little black ball poked his head up over the edge of the bed, meowing loudly in that cackle sound that made you both pause a second, then burst out laughing at how ridiculous it sounded in the middle of you two making out. 

“Kid, you are busting in at the wrong time.” Curtis pulled himself off of you while the kitten kept scrambling up the side of the bed till it was tumbling across the mattress towards you both, his little tail straight up like an exclamation point. Before he could reach you two, Curtis got a hold of him and moved back. “Don’t go anywhere Pretty Girl. I’m not done with you.” Stiff legged, he moved his way across the bedroom and disappeared into the bathroom. You stretched a bit, patiently waiting till you heard Curtis lecturing the kitten. “Stay here, just go to sleep or something. Look a nice fluffy towel, courtesy of Honey.” He flickered on a nightlight and then eased out of the bathroom, using his foot to keep the kitten back till the door shut. 

You pushed yourself up to your elbows, watching him as he turned on the balls of his feet, grabbing his shirt to pull it over his head. “Our guest is away for the moment.” 

“Uh huh… that's why I can see little paws scratching under the door?” You pointed towards the floor, where sure enough black paws were stretching through that little space, and another little pitiful squeal pierced out. 

“Shit…” Curtis used his toes to nudge at them. “Come on dude… just an hour, that's all we need.” 

That had you laughing again, rolling in the bed till you could push yourself to the edge to find one of Curtis’s nearby shirts. “I know we were busy but…” You tugged it over your head, making Curtis scowl at the sight of you covering back up. “Let’s pick this up later? It’s obvious he doesn’t want to be in there and he is not at all tired.” 

“Cock blocked by a cat…” He grumbled a bit as he opened the door and the kitten shot right out, landing at your feet in a tangle of limbs. 

“Didn’t you say you were starving?” You pointed out as you reached Curtis, running your hands up his chest and hooking your hands around the back of his neck. “Cause I do gotta take care of that casserole downstairs still.” 

It was the most opportune moment that his stomach protested, making you arch a brow that you were indeed correct. “Fine! Fine, this is on pause. Just for now.” His hands cupped your face and kissed you, a quick fast one, no lingering, no turning into something more. “But I’m certainly not finished with you.” 

“I don’t ever expect you to be.” You winked at him, before reaching to take one of his hands and lead him back downstairs. Behind the two of you the kitten followed, bouncing down each step till he bypassed both of them and trotted into the downstairs living room like it was all his. 

A couple of days turned into a couple of weeks and the kitten was still at Curtis’s house. Slowly food bowls, a cat box and some toys appeared. You took the little black kitten to the vet, whom he hissed and swiped his little sharp claws at. The vet confirmed that he was a male kitten and just barely old enough to have been separated from his mother. 

You explained how Curtis found him and that Curtis had gone back the next day searching for more, but he only found him. You lined up for the appropriate shots and left with the understanding to the staff that you weren’t sure if you or Curtis would be keeping him. It made your heart ache though, thinking about bringing him to a shelter to be adopted by someone else. 

Even though as a kitten, he had the best chance at someone taking him. You just didn't want to let the little kitten go, even when he was yowling in the car the whole ride back to Curtis’s after the appointment. 

Curtis was sure to meet you outside when you arrived back, grabbing the cat carrier before you were able to and carrying it inside. “What did they say about him?” 

“He is definitely a boy, so we're correct in calling the little fluffer a boy. He is about ten weeks old… just barely able to leave his mom and he is a bit malnourished but to just keep him on the food we are using and he will be just fine.” You shrugged out of your jacket once inside and Curtis sprang the door open, the kitten dashing out and glaring at both of you over his shoulder for being trapped in the carrier, flicking his tail at you two. “And… the vet wanted to know what name they should put on the file and if we're going to keep him.” 

It was out there now, were you guys going to keep this kitten? Curtis’s brow came together in thought, glancing back at the kitten who now was checking out the stainless steel food bowls Curtis bought last week along with the rather expensive bag of kitten food that he insisted on, claiming it would help the ‘Kid’ get some meat on his bones. “What did you say?” 

“I said that I had to talk to you, considering if we kept him, he has to stay here. My little apartment doesn't allow pets of any kind. I’m almost shocked they haven't bitched about Peter my spider plant.” You said jokingly. 

“Well… I guess that leaves just one thing to do about him, then doesn't it.” Curtis stated so solemnly that your heart sank. He didn’t want a kitten here, you were sure of it. What if it destroyed his stuff or became a problem? You could almost hear your ex’s disgusted voice when you once mentioned that you missed having a pet. What would you want an animal in the house for? They just make messes and cost money. Jake had made up for his callous remark by buying you a goldfish, stuffing it in a goldfish bowl that you immediately got rid of, and bringing the fish to your parent's house with a proper tank since you knew that the tank would just be another issue for Jake to press on. Your goldfish was still happily living there, having gotten big and beautiful in the few years they have had him. 

A cat was a bigger responsibility than a goldfish and you were preparing yourself for Curtis to say he was going to take him to the adoption center. 

“What do we name him?” He asked, his arms folding over his chest as he stared at the kitten, studying him. “I know I have been calling him Kid, but he needs something better than that.” 

“You- you mean it? You want to keep him?” 

“Honey, he was ours from that first night I brought him home. He is family now, the little punk. Besides, I would be worrying myself over who took him home if we didn’t.” 

You felt such a rush of relief that you flung yourself at Curtis, who caught you with a surprised grunt, your hug around him turning fierce. “I love you so damn much, thank you for wanting to keep him.” 

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you in against him just as tightly and pressing his mouth to your forehead affectionately. “I would be such an asshole if I just tossed him away, this house is plenty big enough for him to terrorize.” He eased you back a bit to look down at you. “And you know once Sophia sees him, that he would have to stay anyways, as if she is ever gonna let him leave. So… names?” 

“Damn, I don’t know… I tried not to think of names, so I wouldn’t get attached. Um, Midnight?” 

“Same… although calling him Kid kinda ruined that. Hmm, Onyx?” Curtis threw out there. 

“Nah, makes me think of Pokémon too much.” 

“Coal?” He shrugged a bit, throwing another black cat name out.

“Cinders?” 

“What about Salem? He acts like that sassy cat on Sabrina.” 

“You watched Sabrina, the nineties version?” You asked, having loved that show yourself. 

“Sure, Ella loved it and I would watch it on TGIF night. Hey Salem, come here.” Curtis called but the kitten curled up in a window, sunbathing and ignoring the two of them.”Guess not.” 

You two just kept throwing out names that seemed fitting for black cats, but none of them seemed to fit the little bundle of terror. 

You both went on with the day, as you went to meet up with Claude at the school to help her with a quick project and Curtis went over to Paulie’s to do some late afternoon bartending. 

It was later when you finally got to Paulies,  patrons already getting rowdy at a baseball game Paulie had on the overhead tv. 

You scanned quickly, but their was no Curtis in sight. “Hey Paulie, where’s Curtis hiding?” 

“Out back Y/N.” He pulled the bar section up enough for you to duck through. “Make sure he swings back out for his tips before you guys leave for the night. You know, if you ever want a part time job, I can easily hook you up. You’re a lot nicer then Curtis, you'll make way more tips.” 

You rolled your eyes at Paulie as you hip checked through the door out back. “I doubt I would make more tips.” 

Paulie shook his head as he watched you walk away, tsking to himself. “That girl doesn’t even know that everyone loves her.” He sighed as he went back to refill mugs and take food requests. 

You worked your way towards the rear of the building where the backstock was kept, catching sight of Curtis and Edgar lining up to throw axes in the indoor designated area. You could see Yona standing back, watching their form. Edgar went first, his lean body flexing with strength as he leaned into his throw, making his axe spin rapidly with a heavy thunk into the target, almost at the bullseye. Yona gave a victory whoop and you had to add in your own claps of approval, making him spin in surprise at the extra praise. “Throw those last two, if you keep throwing like that, you should be captain of the team.” 

Edgar gave a shrug, finally turning back to set himself back up. “I wouldn’t know first thing about being a team captain.” He went again, able to accurately eyeball it, this time the axe embedded on the opposite side, leaving inches between the two and the bullseye right in the middle. 

Curtis swung his own, close to the middle, but not with the accuracy of Edgar’s throw. He scoffed at Edgar’s words, sure to cross his arms over his chest and study both the targets. “Man, why the hell not? You are obviously good at this, you are doing better then any of us and the whole team was your idea. Why not be the captain of it when we start competing this summer.” 

Edgar let go of his last one, both the men watching as it landed right in the middle with a heavy thud, all three almost perfectly lined up. You and Yona cheering and clapping, making Edgar blush wildly. “I don’t, I never…” He stammered a bit, unsure of how to answer. 

Curtis was blunt with him while he started preparing for his next throw. “Man, you gotta stop thinking the worst of yourself. Look at where you are now compared to months ago.” His arm curled over his head and he gave a powerful thrust, leaning into the move. The axe landed heavily into the board, making it wobble slightly and then straighten back out. “Don’t sit there and think you can’t before you even try. All of us think you can. Look.” Curtis motioned behind him back towards Yona and you who were now pouring drinks from a pitcher, lost in conversation. “They clearly think you're hot stuff, cheering at that last throw? Grey and I think you’re the man for the job. Now the question is, do you wanna be captain?” 

Edgar was looking for an answer, but with an impatient arch of Curtis’s brow he stammered out “Yes, yeah… yeah I can do it.” 

Curtis gave a nod of agreement. “Good man.” Then twisted to toss his remaining axe, sinking it into the target. 

You and Yona were watching the guys in what looked like a heated conversation, but weren’t making out much of what they were saying. Yona furrowed her brow worried. “You think everything is okay?” 

You glanced up at them while filling the mugs. “Sure, no one is being dragged out and no one is yelling. They are fine. Tell me about your date last night?” You really weren't sure, but if no one was looking like they were about to throw a punch, you figured it was probably fine. Curtis was pretty relaxed looking for the most part, his attention divided between talking to Edgar and focusing on the targets. 

Those were your favorite moments, because damn he just looked so masculine in his throws. The way his body would flex and tense the muscles in his shoulders and back, leading down to his ass. You started to let yourself imagine what that would all look naked? Wide shoulders that tapered down to a slimmer waist, he had a stunning back, you knew cause you'd admired it whenever he took his shirt off. 

“Then he surprised me with one of those midnight openings at this bookstore in the city.” Your attention turned back to Yona, who had a faraway dreamy look recalling her night before. 

“Sounds pretty incredible, the bookstore especially.” You were quick to take a sip of your beer, trying to cover for the fact that you were daydreaming instead of listening to your friend, but now you were making sure to pay attention. “I would have loved that myself.” 

“I know they do it every couple of months.” She yanked out her phone and started typing on it. “Let me send you the link. What were you and Curtis up to?” 

You let your gaze drift back to the guys, now they were both laughing while wandering to the targets to grab the axes. “Well I took that black kitten this morning to the vet for a checkup, see if he needed anything. That opened up a convo about are we keeping him.” 

“And? I know you have fallen for him.” Yona inquired while she put her phone back away. “He would be a nice addition if you are ready for a pet.” 

“I wanted to, but my apartment is no pets allowed. I had myself all set for Curtis to say no… but he said absolutely he wanted to keep him.” Your grin spread, the way he had shocked you was still making your heart clench in excitement. “Now we need a name!” 

“Oh the best part.” Yona pressed on, waving a hand for you to continue. “What’s his name gonna be?” 

“Don’t know yet, every name we thought of that seemed to fit neither of us agreed on.” It was like a light bulb went off in your head and suddenly you were kicking yourself for not thinking of it earlier. “But! I think I have it. Give me a second.” Before Yona could question you, you headed over to where Curtis was set his axes down, ready to take a break. 

“Hey Pretty Girl.” His blue eyes shifted over you and a sultry grin crossed his lips. 

“I got it!” You bypassed your typical flirty answer, too excited at the moment. 

Curtis’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Got what Honey?” 

“The name, our kitten’s name. What about Thackery Binx? Or just one of the names, doesn’t have to be the whole thing. From Hocus Pocus.” 

He looked thoughtful while considering it. “Why the hell didn’t we think of that before? It’s perfect.” His arms scooped around you, tugging you in close. “How about just Binx if you're okay with that? I like it more for him.” 

You nodded with enthusiasm. “I like it too, so I think he will.  He looks like a Binx.”

[twostepstyless]

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Authors Note: Reminisce on the day our favourite golden retreiver entered Harry and Y/N's lives and the journey it took to get him. Thank you very much Japanrry and Bell the Shiba Inn for the Harry with dog content we've received this week it truly couldn't have come at a better time.

Word Count: 4K+

SFW

***

the middle of june 2020

“Jesus Christ, Y/N,” Harry let out a soft chuckle, reaching over to pull a couple of tissues from the box they had to keep on the coffee table, passing them over to Y/N who was cuddled up against Harry’s side as tear tracks ran down her face. 

“Baby, it’s fine,” Harry’s hand rubbed soothingly up and down Y/N’s arm, “why y’crying? Look the dogs happy, he’s wagging his tail and the little old man’s happy he’s got a new mate,” Harry tried his best to point out that they were actually watching quite a sweet story unfold on the television. 

“I know,” she wails as a sob wracked through her body.

“What is going on in your brain?” Harry laughs as he pries the scrunched-up tissue from the grip in her fist, sitting her upright on the couch and began to wipe away at her tears before pinching the tissue over her nose and allowing her to blow into it before wiping it away and dropping the tissue to the side. 

“It’s just lovely isn’t it,” Y/N said through the remaining sniffles of her tears, “he lost his wife and was looking for a little pal and the dog’s owner died and now they ha-have ea-” she hiccups as a new stream of tears begins to cascade down her cheeks, “now they have each other,” she casts as her eyes up to the television to see Bill, the elderly widowed man, head home with his new dog who had grey whiskers littering his snout and face not dissimilar from his new owner, ready to see out their final years together. 

“You’re so cute,” Harry cooed with an amused smile while turning the volume of the tv down as the blaringly loud ad break sounded out through their living room. 

“Don’t make fun of me,” Y/N whines, palming the remaining tears away from staining her cheeks before burying herself back under Harry’s arm, her own reaching across his middle to tether herself to him. 

“M’not, m’not, I promise,” he hummed, his thumb smoothing soft circles on her arm. “S’a nice idea, innit?” Harry said quietly, a few moments later. 

“Wha’s that?” she asked slowly, tired from all the crying. 

“Having a dog,” he murmured. 

“Yeah?” Y/N tilted her head up to look at him, her nose brushing his jawline. 

“Mhmm, a little furry mate to cuddle up with at night sounds right up my street,” he looks down at her, nose brushing against her forehead before pressing a soft kiss to her temple. 

She sighs in contentment and leans into the brush of his lips, “what? Am I not cutting it anymore? I’ve not shaved my legs in a bit, I can be furry if that’s what you’re after,” she teased as Harry huffed out a laugh. 

“Shut up,” he chuckled, “y’know what I mean, m’heart.”

“Mm, I do, it does sound a nice idea,” she hummed, eyes beginning to flutter with tiredness. 

*** 

Three months had passed when the thought fluttered into Y/N’s head again. It had come and gone every so often, but this morning she woke up with the idea at the forefront of her mind. She padded down the stairs to find Harry in the kitchen, preparing their breakfast. 

“Morning m’heart,” Harry spoke, handing her the coffee had had prepared for her the second he heard her shuffling around upstairs. 

“Mmm, morning, thank you gorgeous,” she took a grateful sip before stretching up on her toes and pressing a kiss to his lips in greeting. 

“Sleep good?” he asked as he began plating up her eggs for breakfast. 

“Mhm, how was y’run?” she spoke through a yawn that slipped out. 

“Was good, seen a golden retriever take a dive into the biggest puddle you’ve ever seen, the owner looked so fed up and was moaning his head off to the dog,” Harry laughed as he handed her over her plate before taking his own and setting up shop beside her as they had breakfast together. 

Y/N thought it was funny he should mention dogs this morning and chose to bring her idea up now. 

“D’you remember that thing y’said to me a few months ago?” she asked. 

Harry nearly choked on his food as he laughed, he swallowed down before asking, “reckon y’could narrow that down for me, love? That’s a bit vague even for me to guess.” 

“We were watching telly, an’ I had been crying…” she divulged. 

“The dog programme?” Harry quirked his eyebrow as he took a mouthful of his own coffee. 

“Mhm, and you mentioned something about it being a nice idea, having a little dog,” she gnawed on her lip. 

“I did,” Harry said with a knowing smile, wanting to coax her into saying what she was thinking rather than him assuming. 

“And… I guess, I was just wondering f’you were serious about that?” 

“About what?” he put his fork down, spinning in his seat to face her, thumb pulling at her bottom lip to release it from the bite her teeth had on it. 

“’Bout having a dog,” she spoke quietly.

“Yeah, I was serious,” he confirmed with a smile. 

“I guess I was jus’ wondering if that’s something you would be thinking about having now, I guess… with me?” she finally asked. 

“Miss Y/S/N, are you asking me to own a dog with you?” Harry asked in faux shock, a teasing lilt evident in his tone.

“Get fucked,” she whined at his teasing. 

“Shh, of course I want that with you, jus’ didn’t realise you were thinking about that,” Harry speculated. 

“Jus’ a little bit, it planted a seed when y’mentioned it and it keeps popping back up every so often, then you said about that dog on your run and I could just see you out running with our own dog,” she spilled. 

“Sounds like a dream, doesn’t it?” Harry smiled. 

“Yeah,” she sighed, content it had went over well. 

“Why don’t we start having a look around, look up breeders and all that, see what we’re after?” he suggested. 

“Uh well… I was thinking, why don’t we go visit a rescue place, know like the one out the other programme off the telly that always makes me cry?” 

“Battersea?” 

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Y/N nodded. 

“Sounds perfect, sweets, why don’t we take a drive down at the start of next week? See what they say to it?” 

“Really?” Y/N asked, struggling to hide the excitement from her voice. 

“Yeah, think we’d make brilliant dog parents, we would definitely let our dog play in the puddles without moaning like the guy I saw this morning,” Harry said confidently. 

“Yeah? Tell me that again when we’ve got a dog taking mud baths every other day for a laugh and you need to wash them up afterwards.” 

*** 

21st of September 2020

Y/N couldn’t sit still in her seat as Harry drove them to south London. She would settle for a few minutes then a shit-eating grin would split across her face, her knee would bounce in a nervous excitement and the occasional wiggle of her hips as she tried to settle herself down, which Harry kept catching out the corner of his eye with an amused smile gracing his features. 

“Jus’ remember we’re not for sure leaving with a dog today, I know you’re excited, I am too, but let’s just be realistic, we might not find our fit today, more importantly, the right dog might not find us,” Harry reached over to squeeze her bouncing knee as they began to drive over the Chelsea bridge, officially entering Battersea. 

“No, I know, m’just so excited to see all the dogs and you’re right, they need to be the ones to pick us,” Y/N said nodding her head, glad they were on the same page of letting the dog that was meant to be theirs come to them on its own. 

Harry pulled the car in to park, switched the engine off and turned to face his love, “we ready to do this?” he unfastened his seatbelt. 

“This is a big step for us, isn’t it?” Y/N mirrored him, taking off her seatbelt. 

“How do you mean?” 

“Well getting a pet, s’quite big, isn’t it?” Y/N explained as if it was obvious. 

“Y/N/N, we already own a house together, have done for nearly 8 months, I’m pretty sure we’re alright,” Harry joked, reaching over and tucking her loose hair back. 

“Yeah, but a living, breathing being is a bit more than bricks and mortar is it not?” she leant into his touch before nudging his hand away with her head and taking his hand in her own. 

“Well, the plants are doing alright,” Harry laughed, smoothing his thumb over her knuckles. “Is this a conversation we should’ve had before coming here? Are y’worried about us having to co-parent our future pet?” he asked. 

“No, m’not worried… I don’t know,” she resigned with a sigh. 

“’Cause y’know that’s not going to happen, I told you I was all in with you in our first year together,” Harry smiled fondly. 

“Y’told me within the first few months,” she pointed out with a giggle. 

“Exactly, we’ve got three years locked in the vault, a dog isn’t going to upend this, if anything I reckon, he’s going to solidify our future together even more,” Harry leant forward and placed a chaste kiss on the corner of her lips. 

“You said he. Y’think we’re going to get a boy dog?” she breathed out. 

“Mhm, got a feeling. Now c’mon, I feel like I can hear him calling out to me through all the barking,” Harry opened the driver’s door allowing the sound of all the barking from inside the rescue centre to flood into the car. 

***

“Look H, this one is called Binx,” she pouted as a greyhound’s nose appeared through the gaps in the fence as Harry appeared beside her after talking to a few of the volunteers. 

“She’s cute,” Harry said as he read over the information posted outside the dog’s area, “it says she doesn’t like a lot of people around her, m’not sure that’s a good fit for us, there’s constantly people in and out our house and we wouldn’t be able to take her with us a lot of the time,” Harry explained, sounding sad they would have to move on from the little beauty who was staring up at them. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Y/N said sadly. “Bye cutie,” she waved her hand at the wide-eyed greyhound who relaxed back down in her bed once her visitors moved on. 

“So, the volunteer, said they have someone they think we’d like to meet,” Harry grasped her hand and lead her back to the blue painted desk at the front of the rescue centre, portraits of all their current dogs that are looking for homes hung on the wall behind the woman with the thick-rimmed glasses who was smiling brightly sat behind the desk. 

‘Hiya love, welcome to Battersea,” the lady spoke, with a thick accent that Y/N guessed was from the West Country. 

“Hi nice t’meet you, I’m Y/N,” she greeted the woman. 

“I’m Bonnie, love, I was just chatting with y’fella here and I’ve got someone I think could be a fit for you guys, if you would like to meet him?” Y/N’s eyes gleamed in excitement as Harry jabbed her playfully in the side at the word ‘him’, his guess potentially coming true.

“Most definitely, we’d like to meet anyone that you think could be a fit for us,” Harry answered for them. 

“Right then,” Bonnie stood with a groan, “right this way, let me just grab a handful of these first, he’s very food driven,” Bonnie laughed as she shoved some dog treats from the jar on the desk into her pocket, and lead the couple through a painted blue door to the side of the desk. 

As soon as they entered the room, they heard a high-pitched squeak rather than a bark. A squeak that was trying to be a bark but wasn’t quite there yet. Bonnie stood to the side to reveal a fenced pen, where a rambunctious little pup was running in circles letting out his squeaky bark to greet his new visitors. 

“Oh my fucking god,” Y/N breathed out under her breath, hand squeezing Harry’s tight as the approached the pen. 

“So, this little baby, he’s not got a name yet we’ve just been calling him ‘boy’ is a fourteen-week golden retriever,” Bonnie told them as she quietened the puppy down with a few treats from her pocket. 

“He’s so little,” Y/N cooed as she knelt down next to the pen as Harry sat cross-legged next to her, watching the dog explore his little pen. 

“Was he born here, then?” Harry looked towards Bonnie, asking for more of the dog’s story. 

“Uh no, this lad and his brothers and sisters have got a bit of a sad story actually, they were found on the 16thof June, in a bin bag dumped down by the river. We got them dropped off here and we worked out they were probably only a day old,” Bonnie said as she scratched the happy dog behind the ears. 

“That’s awful,” Y/N gasped. 

“Yeah, not the best start in life but they were all hand-reared by our volunteers, this little one by me, and believe me if I could take him permanently, I absolutely would,” Bonnie smiled at the golden retriever whose tail was wagging hard enough it was creating a draught. 

“So, the rest of the litter?” Harry queried. 

“Already found their forever’s, my little pal here was the smallest of the bunch, struggled to keep him with us right at the beginning but he’s here now waiting for his own turn to find forever,” Bonnie said as both Harry and Y/N pouted at the bright little light of a soul contained in the golden retriever sat in front of them as he nudged the volunteer’s hand for another treat. “Why don’t I open his pen up, we’ll let him out, let him have a good old sniff around the room and we’ll see if he takes to you guys, if he seems comfortable enough, I’ll slip out the room and let you have a little one to one with him,” Bonnie explained, handing over the remaining treats she had stuffed into her pockets into Harry and Y/N’s hands, “sound good?” 

“Absolutely,” Harry agreed quickly. 

“Yes please, I’d love t’meet him proper,” Y/N confirmed. 

“Cracking,” and Bonnie bent down and lifted the small gate containing the dog into the pen and opened it wide for him to come out. His tiny head whipped round to see what Bonnie was up to, ears flopping at the movement as he began to run as fast as his legs could carry him out the gate. 

The couple giggled as they watched him run laps around the room, stopping to sniff at every corner and crevice he came across. As soon as the puppy heard the couple on the floor giggling, he skidded to a halt and turned in place to look at them, tilting his head, his ears swishing with the movement. He approached the pair sitting on the floor, tripping over his paws that he was still growing into as he approached Y/N first circling around where she was knelt down. 

“Hi baby boy,” she uttered, reaching her closed fist out to him, the treats contained inside, as his wet, black nose bumped against her hand, giving it a tentative lick, “I think I’ve got something you’re going to like hidden in there,” she began to withdraw her hand causing the golden dog to whine pitifully and follow her hand, reaching up towards her by placing his front paws up on her knees. Harry sat and watched the glow of happiness radiate from his girlfriend. She was generally a happy person but seeing her feed the dog his treats from her outstretched palm, Harry felt like he was witnessing something click into place inside of her. Like the little dog was the missing puzzle piece of her, of them. “You’re just the sweetest little sunshine aren’t you,” she giggled as the dog licked her palm free landing back on all four paws before he turned his attention to Harry’s cross-legged frame, tilting his head at the man. 

“Hiya mate,” Harry murmured, holding his hand out letting the pup smell him first before leaving the safety blanket of Y/N. The couple were so engrossed in the puppy they didn’t even spot Bonnie, smiling knowingly, silently slip out of the room, closing the door behind her.  Harry hand fed him a few treats, the dog shuffling forward so he was sat in front of him. Harry let his free hand come up and give the dog a few little scratches behind the ear as he watched Bonnie do earlier which made his little tail sweep the floor in happiness. Once he had finished his treats, the dog seemed perfectly happy in Harry’s company, so much so that he climbed straight in between Harry’s crossed legs and rest his head on Harry’s thigh, staring up at the happy couple. 

“I think he likes you, H,” Y/N whispered, letting her hand smooth down the dogs back, her nails scratching lightly as Harry’s thumb smoothed up over his nose and forehead as the dog blinked heavily, his young body clearly tuckered out from all the excitement. 

“Yeah, you think so?” Harry couldn’t tear his eyes away from his new best mate. 

“Considering he climbed straight into your lap, I’m thinking yeah,” Y/N laughed as she let her head fall onto Harry’s shoulder. 

“He seems pretty smitten with you too,” Harry pointed out, and sure enough, the dog, through his heavy eyes, was staring straight up at her. 

They sat quietly in the peace, Harry’s lap warm with the weight of his tired little body, Y/N’s arm growing achy from its constant stroking down his back but she didn’t dare stop. 

Bonnie shuffled back into the room, “well, my lovelies, how are we getting on?” as Y/N and Harry’s gazes snapped up to look at her, before both smiling softly and back down to their sleepy boy. 

*** 

Harry had never been more grateful for the traffic that kept them driving well below the speed limit between south and north London. Their new four-legged baby was passed out in Y/N’s arms in the passenger seat as the slow rumble of the engine and Y/N’s constant pats and soothing words keep him asleep on the big scary car journey back to his new forever home. 

“We’re going to need to think of a name,” Harry said softly as he chanced a look down at him as they stopped at a red light.

“Hm, any suggestions?” she asked. 

“None at all, what did you call him at the rescue?” Harry switched gears as they finally made it through the traffic lights. 

“Hm, sunshine I think, I can’t see us shouting Sunshine across the park,” she mused. 

“Sunny? Or could be spelt S-O-N-N-Y?” Harry suggested.

“Fuck no, my auntie had a yappy little thing called Sonny when we were growing up and he was a little arsehole of a dog,” Y/N snorted. 

“Sonnys off the list then, what else is like sunshine… sunflower, nope can’t have it look like m’dog’s named after my own song,” Harry proposed before cutting himself off just as quickly as Y/N giggled.

“Hm, Sunflower, s’like my favourite painting,” Y/N mentioned as an aside.

“The Van Gogh one, right?” Harry clarified. 

“Mhmm.” 

“Vincent Van Gogh…” Harry said. “…Vincent… that’s cute,” Harry gave her a quick look. 

“That is cute, reckon he looks like a Vincent too,” she peered down at their new baby. 

“Loadsa nicknames from that too, Vince, Vinnie, Vin,” he listed. 

“Vincent Styles, his proper Sunday name” Y/N nodded. 

“My surname? Don’t want to double barrel it with yours?” Harry checked. 

“Well m’hoping one day we’ll all have matching surnames,” she said shyly. 

“Reckon that could be arranged, right Vincent?” he asked the dog who has stirred from his sleep. 

*** 

“Okay, wait right there, wait, wait, wait,” Harry said quickly as he parked them up at home as he got out the car and ran round the front of it, throwing open the passenger door to Vince letting out a squeaky sort of bark at the sight of his new Dad. Harry reached in and took Vinnie straight from Y/N’s arms to carry the dog into his new home.

“Oi, you little fucker, don’t steal our dog from me,” Y/N laughed as she got out the car following Harry up their front door as he tried to fight the keys into the lock while keeping Vince close to his chest. 

“He got loads of Mumma cuddles on the way home, s’my turn, right m’boy? Daddy gets a go now?” Harry spoke to the dog as he got a loving lick against his cheek as he passed Y/N the keys to let them in the house when he gave up trying to unlock the door. Before Y/N could slide the keys into the lock she took her phone and took a quick picture of Harry with his thumb up cradling a curious Vincent against his chest. His first picture with their boy. 

Y/N rolled her eyes as she opened their front door, “welcome home Vincent,” she sang as Harry carried him inside. 

“Welcome to your forever, Vincent,” Harry spoke as he set the dog down in the hallway where he immediately started sniffing and exploring, seemingly comforted by being surrounded by the scent of his new parents. 

***

21st of September 2022

“Vince!” Y/N shouted across the park as Harry let out a loud whistle with his fingers between his lips. The dog turned to face them with a guilty looking expression on his face, his paw hovering over the biggest, muddiest puddle he was able to find in the park. “Don’t even think about it Mister,” Y/N warned calling after the dog, his paw inching closer to the murky water. 

“Vincent, get your furry little arse back here, come see what Mum’s got for you,” Harry shouted this time, hoping to entice him away with the promise of a treat, and he did look tempted. Especially when Y/N rattled the treat bag but the promise of a big muddy puddle was just something too hard for him to fight. 

“He’s going to jump in,” Y/N said with a sigh. 

“He won’t, he won’t,” Harry tried to speak it into existence. 

“He will,” and with one large splash their golden retriever turned into a brown, muddy retriever. 

“For fuck’s sake,” they both groaned in unison as they watched Vincent roll onto his back to get himself thoroughly coated in the muddy water. 

“I thought he was supposed to be food driven,” Harry whined as Vincent removed himself from his mud bath and gave an almighty shake.

“Oh, he is, with everything else, that died a death for mud baths after the first muddy puddle,” Y/N giggled, already knowing they’re going to have to deep clean their bathroom after Vince’s bath time later. 

“You’re happy as a pig in shit, aren’t you?” Harry asked the dog as he trotted up to them, tail wagging happily, “yeah, you look like a pig in shit as well, mate.” 

“Two years today, we’ve had you Vin, and you’re still driving me and Dad to the brink aren’t you,” Y/N cooed, giving him a treat anyway, he deserved it today. 

“Wouldn’t change you for the world, m’boy,” Harry reached down to give him a scratch behind his ears, after all this time it was still his favourite scratch and pat to receive. Harry immediately regretting doing so as his hand came back caked in dirt. 

“Happy gotcha day, Vincent,” Y/N cheered as the continued their walk as Vincent barked in response. This time a full, booming bark full of personality, so much different than the little squeaks he gave them two years ago. 

***

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