#but it needs more time in the oven so I made this instead just to make sure I wasn't late

[lyjen]

Stay, stay, stay | Evan "Buck" Buckley

Summary: When Buck gets assigned to get up the ladder and put a fire out during a rain and thunderstorm, he gets struck by lightning. He’s walking around in a coma dream and has to find his way out of it to get back to his fiancée (Y/n).

Request: @shauna-carsley

<<< 9-1-1 Masterlist

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

(Y/n) swung the towel over her shoulder as she turned around and made her way to the shelf to get some herbs. 

Buck, on the other hand, placed his foot into the last step of the staircase as he scanned the environment. When he saw his fiancée cooking in the open kitchen, he smiled and made his way over. 

“So.. did I hear you right earlier or are you actually about to serve the team your so-called ‘experimental pasta bake of doom’ for dinner?” he asked as his smile morphed into a playful grin on his face. 

He leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed his arms as he waited for her to answer. (Y/n) chuckled and threw him a side-eye as she stood on her toes to reach the herbs she needed. When she caught the herbs she closed the cabinet and turned back around to the stove. 

“First of all, it’s not the ‘pasta bake of doom.’ It's just pasta with a little creative touch. Second, aren’t you supposed to be cleaning the truck or something instead of bugging the chef?” she said as she shook the little container to add it to the pot. 

Buck shrugged his shoulders as he moved to the kitchen island where the stove was, and (Y/n) was working on her dish. “I finished, so now I’m on ‘supervision duty.” He answered her question. “You know, just making sure you don’t set the firehouse on fire. Again” he continued as he placed his right hand on the counter and tried to get her to look at him.

She grabbed the wooden spoon that was in the pot and started to stir. “That was one time! And it wasn’t even my fault- the oven malfunctioned.” She told him as she felt the eyes burning into her skin even more. 

But before Buck could even come back with an answer, Chimney passed by with a smirk on his face. “Pretty sure it was malfunctioning because someone put too much cheese on their lasagna.” He said as he kept on moving. 

Buck his eyes grew wide at the reaction, he pointed his finger out at Chimney. “See? It’s not just me who remembers.” Buck said as he turned back towards (Y/n). 

(Y/n) stopped stirring as she gave Chimney a look that said really? She glared at both of them. “You two better shut up or I’ll accidentally forget to make enough for either of you.” 

In the distance a small laugh came from the dining table where Eddie was sitting, his phone was in his hand but his eyes were locked on the conversation between the two. “Really brave, Buck. You keep poking at the person in charge of our  food today. Bold strategy.” Eddie chimed in. 

(Y/n) let out a small sigh  as Buck didn’t drop the conversation, she tapped the remaining sauce off the spoon, back into the pot. Maybe she wasn’t the best chef, and maybe she did almost burn this place down. But at least she was trying? That must’ve meant something, right? 

Buck didn’t even bother to react to Eddie’s comment as the grin on his face grew wider. “I’m just saying, if this pasta bake ends up being a total disaster, the entire firehouse is going to blame me for not stopping it.”

She tapped the spoon one last time on the brim of the pot as she pointed the wooden spoon at him. “You should be blamed- for being annoying, not helpful.” she said as she let the spoon move in between them, almost letting it look like a threat.

A small grin appeared on her face as she locked eyes with Buck, he was just teasing her. They both went silent for a moment as they just looked at each other. Until a voice interrupted the moment. “What’s going on here?” 

Bobby walked in with a clipboard in his hands and one eyebrow raised at the sudden silence. “Nothing, Buck was just on his way to leave the kitchen. He’s officially banned from the kitchen, he’s already on his fifth snarky comment and dinner isn’t even ready yet.” she said as she stood across Buck, switching looks between Bobby and her soon to be husband. 

Buck glanced over his shoulder as he held up his hand in defense. “I’m just saying what we’re all thinking! Someone’s got to make sure this meal doesn’t turn into a second alarm.” he said as he looked at Bobby. 

And then a familiar sound roared through the entire firehouse, but it wasn't the fire alarm Buck was talking about. 

“Engine 118, truck 118, ambulance 118, structure fire, MacArthur Park Apartments“  The alarm sounded through the house. 

“Okay, one eighteen let’s go!” Bobby said as all the people on the loft dropped what they were doing and stood up to make their way towards the rigs. 

Everyone except for (Y/n).

She was actually on light duty because during her morning run a few days ago, she twisted her ankle. 

She didn’t even know how it happened. It just.. happened. She tried to walk it off, but when she returned home and Buck saw her stumbling while entering the house, he sighed. She always had been kind of clumsy. 

Anyways, walking was still difficult, she could walk but every step hurted. And since it would only slow down the team more than actually help, Bobby had decided that it was best for her and the team to put her on light duty. 

So here she was, trying to make dinner. While the alarm zoomed through the house. (Y/n) watched her friends and colleagues leave the loft, making their way towards the rigs as Buck took another second to look at his fiancée. Buck scanned the scene, he knew no one was waiting for the two of them to be close.. especially on shift. 

But no one except the two of them were on the loft right now. “See you in a bit” Buck said as (Y/n) had already continued to stir the sauce, facing the stove. He pressed his warm lips quickly against her cheek. “Be careful” she told him as he was already making his way towards the stairs. “Oh and don’t do anything stupid!” she added, sounding a little louder now. 

Buck turned around as he continued walking backwards, that same grin as before was written all over his face. “Have you met me?” he said, his grin turning into a small smile as he sent her a fast wink and turned back around speeding down the stairs. 

She didn’t know how long this call was going to take. It was a structure fire, it could take an hour, or it could take four hours, or even six. She decided to just try and finish the dish, so she could reheat it when her team came back from the call. 

-

Buck watched the rain splatter against the windows of the rig as they were making their way towards the structure fire. It was silence on the rig, as everyone was trying to get into focus. The only thing sounding through their headphones was the thunder roaring over Los Angeles. 

The truck pulled to a stop, not even a second later Buck and the rest of the team were stepping out of the rigs. Buck stepped out of the vehicle, feeling the puddle with water splash against his boots. 

“Okay, Hendrix, Meyers, Perez!” Bobby’s voice sounded over the scene, trying to be louder than the rain that was coming down like the gods were mad. The team followed Bobby as he started shouting orders to specific people. “Start evacuating the building!” he continued as he pointed to the building that was on fire with his hand. 

“Chimney, Buck, Eddie.” Bobby pointed at the right people, “You guys are on ladder duty.” He added as the three of them nodded at his words. “I want you to get up to that window and hit it. Let’s go!” the captain continued as he pointed his index finger to the right window. “Copy that cap!”

Not even three minutes later, Eddie was already turning and extending the aerial to the assigned window. With a ladder belt secured around his waist, Buck made his way back to the top of the truck where Chimney was waiting to go up the ladder. The tip of the hose set was hanging over his shoulder as he watched Eddie extend the aerial. 

“Hey. Where do you think you’re going? I got this.” Chimney said as he saw Buck climbing on top of the truck with the ladder belt secured around his waist. “No way, you got the last one.” Buck answered as a soft grunt fell from his mouth and made his way to the start of the ladder. 

Chim squinted his eyes at the rain that was pouring and hitting his face. “Didn’t realize you were keeping track,” he said. Making Buck grin “Come on, Chim, it’s me. I’m always keeping track.” Buck said with enthusiasm in his voice. 

These were the things he loved doing on the job. 

Eddie grinned at the conversation, grabbing the hook and securing Buck to the line, so if something went wrong he wouldn’t fall to his death. 

“Alright, cowboy, go get ‘em.” Eddie said, as Buck accepted the line Chimney was holding out to him. “Alright” he said, as he carefully made his way up the aerial. 

In his left hand he held the hose line and he used his right hand to climb up the ladder. The mix of people’s voices and sirens were filling his eardrums as he finally reached the top of the ladder. 

With his heart beating in his chest, he turned the hose line on and started to aim for the window Bobby had mentioned earlier.  

Where Buck could hear voices from below the ladder earlier, that sound faded away as some electrical buzz took over the scene. It almost sounded like an electricity pole was damaged, but it didn’t come from below him. Whatever he was hearing was from above. 

“The hell is that?” he asked himself. Buck looked above him, fully facing the rain that was still pouring down. But he couldn’t find a source, so he just continued doing his job. It didn’t take five seconds, or there was a flash of white covering Buck’s entire vision. 

The lightning hit his body. And he felt it, everywhere. 

Bobby’s eyes were locked onto the person who was on top of that ladder. But his heart dropped the second he saw what was happening right in front of his eyes. He could hear a loud scream and then Buck’s body tumbled over the edge of the ladder, his body now hanging on to the line that was secured to the ladder belt he was wearing. 

Eddie fell onto the ground after the bolt had struck just near him. He grunted at the pain in his back when it had met the ground. He rolled to his side, as he got onto his knees and hands to reach for his helmet that had prevented him from hitting his head on the asphalt. 

He pressed one hand onto the ground as he pushed himself off the ground and back onto two legs. He pressed his helmet back onto his head as was on his way to climb back onto the truck, not really knowing what had happened. But the moment he was climbing the ladder to get on top of the truck, towards the control panel of the aerial, he looked to his right. 

His best friend was floating in the air, lifeless. 

His eyes widened at the sight, “Buck!” he screamed out. Without thinking, Eddie hurried up the ladder. The steps were wet, making him almost slip now and then, but he didn’t care. He needed to help his teammate, his colleague. 

“Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is Captain Nash, 118. We have a firefighter down at the MacArthur Park Apartment fire. Need additional task force and rescue immediately.” Bobby’s voice sounded over the radio as Eddie called out for his best friend, hoping for some kind of reaction. 

It was horrible, seeing him hanging like that. 

In the meanwhile when Eddie had finally reached the top of the ladder, he tried to pull him up. But pulling up someone who was unconscious was impossible. “Can you hear me? Buck!” he called out, but calling out his name was more for a cry for help than to get him to wake up. The water from the hose line was still spraying down, Eddie didn’t even bother to turn it off. He only had one goal, and that was trying to get Buck down to an ambulance.

If he couldn’t pull Buck up, they had to lower him down. Chimney had taken place down the ladder, ready to help. “We need more slack!” Eddie called out on the top of his lungs. “More slack coming up!” Chimney yelled back. Eddie groaned as he gently let the rope slide through his fingers, and watched Buck’s body being lowered down to the ground where Bobby was. He was commanding Hen to get the ambulance as close as possible. They couldn’t waste a second. 

Buck’s body was almost down at the ground again. Bobby grabbed his feet and turned him so he could be laid down onto the gurney easily. “Come here kid” Bobby’s voice was filled with worry. He put his arm on his back, “I got him, I got him!” he said. He wasn’t sure if he was telling the team, or if he was soothing himself with those words. 

“Okay bring that gurney over here, let’s go!” Bobby commanded his paramedics. 

“I need the lifepak!” Chimney shouted through Bobby’s orders to hurry up. They needed to do something, he was up there for way too long. The entire team was helping Buck onto the gurney which was being flooded with water the second it came out of the ambulance. 

“Let’s get the lifepak on!” Chimney continued as they disconnected Buck from the line he was still attached to. Hen gently took off Buck’s helmet, as they opened his turnout coat. and cut through his uniform to get to his chest. “No pulse.” Hen said as she held her fingers to his neck to check his pulse.While, the worry in her voice almost turned into panic mode. 

“Get that lifepak ready!” Chimney now shouted. But the second he got handed the lifepak, Hen spoke up. ��It doesn’t make sense to shock him. He’s in full cardiac arrest!” she said as she looked over at her partner, and towards Buck’s bare chest thinking of what to do. 

“I’m starting compressions, get that lifepak off!” Hen’s partner now said, as he climbed on top of the gurney, pressing his hands deep into Buck’s chest. “Come on Buck! Come on!” Chimney’s voice said as he tried to get his brother-in-law’s heart beating again. “Come on man! You can’t leave (Y/n)!” he continued shouting, hoping those words would get him back to reality. 

“Alright Chim! Chim, we've got to move!” Bobby ordered Chimney, but he was so determined to get him back, words around him weren’t coming through. It wasn’t until Hen gave him a small push, that he realized he needed to get off the gurney. 

“Dispatch, this is Captain 118. We have a firefighter down, struck by lightning, unresponsive, three minutes out.”

______

(Y/n) arrived through the emergency entrance of the hospital. Desperately looking for someone she knew, and could tell her what the hell had happened on that call. Her hair was soaking wet, she didn’t even bother to grab a jacket when she ran outside towards her car. She didn’t care if she’d catch a cold. That was the least of her worries at the moment. 

“Wha..- What the hell happened?” (Y/n) gasped as she stumbled into the waiting room. Finding a small part of her crew. Oh god, the moment she stepped through those doors it almost made her puke. They had been through too much already. But walking through those doors made her heart pound in her chest, like she had run a marathon for miles. 

She hadn’t cried at all, but walking through those doors made it seem more real to her. 

She saw Hen and Eddie turning around, Hen’s eyes were still watering and Eddie’s were red like he hadn’t slept in days. But it wasn’t the exhaustion that made his eyes that red. The second she locked eyes with Hen, (Y/n)’s eyes were still wide open in shock. Tears were stinging in her eyes as the two of them walked towards her. 

“(Y/n)...” Hen sighed, as she stood across from her with Eddie on her left side. “No…” she said as she looked at Hen. Trying to suppress the cry and the tears that were crawling up. Eddie pressed his hand to her upper arm, trying to comfort her. While she took a deep, shaky breath, trying to comfort herself too. 

But the feeling in her chest started to feel tighter within the second. Her breaths were shallow and inconsistent as panic clawed its way through her. Her vision became blurry and she grabbed the fabric of her shirt, pressing the small piece of fabric between her hands to try and get herself back. 

Her world began to spin faster and the sound of her heart was pounding like a drum in her ears. Tears were beginning to slowly stream down her face when Hen started to explain what had happened on scene. But none of the words she told her we're coming through. Everything she said was inaudible. 

“Hey, hey, (Y/n), look at me,” Hen’s calm yet commanding voice cut through the haze, pulling her attention. Her eyes were locked onto Hen now, “Breathe with me, okay?” her voice said. 

(Y/n) shook her head, as more tears streamed down her face. “I... I can’t... I can’t breathe.” 

“Yes, you can. I’m right here with you. We are right here with you.” Hen said softly, as she looked at Eddie and back at (Y/n), gently placing her hands on (Y/n)’s shoulders. “In through your nose for four, out through your mouth for four. Let’s do it together. Ready?”

Hen took a breath in, holding up four fingers as she inhaled. (Y/n) struggled but copied her action, shaky and uneven. Hen’s fingers slowly counted down from four to one, guiding her through it again.

“That’s it. You’re doing great. Just one breath at a time.” She coached her. 

Slowly, (Y/n)’s breathing began to steady, the panic loosening its grip. Hen kept her focus on (Y/n) “There you go. See? You’ve got this,” Hen said with a reassuring smile, squeezing (Y/n)’s shoulder. 

Tears rolled down (Y/n)’s cheeks, but she nodded, a small sense of control returning. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice raw. “Always,” Hen replied, as she guided her to take a seat in one of the hospital waiting room chairs. Eddie and Hen both took a seat beside her, trying to comfort her as they waited for some news. 

“He’s going to be okay” Hen said, placing her hand onto her shoulder as she gave it a soft, gentle, squeeze. 

• Buck’s coma dream

“People have been dropping off food all day.” Margaret said as she proudly looked around the apartment of Buck. Pointing at the flowers and the cards he had received over the days he had been in the hospital. 

“And oh, your kids.. ” Wait, did he hear that right? Was he a father? Did he have kids with (Y/n) in whatever this was? His eyes grew wide, filled with hope as she said those words. He cleared his throat, “I- Um..- Kids?” he stumbled. 

Margaret smiled and nodded at his short question, “yes, your students.” she answered with a duh tone in her voice. Like he had to know what she was talking about. But when the word “kids” fell off his mother’s lips, all he could think about was: where was his fiancée? 

His eyebrows furrowed at her latest words, students? What was she talking about? He was a firefighter, right? What students was she talking about? “What?” he asked his mother with a confused look all over his face. But when his mother wanted to answer his question, he threw another question at her.

“Wait.. Where’s (Y/n)?” he then asked. Looking around the apartment for any clues. What kind of future, dream, universe was he in? He had so many questions floating through his mind right now. 

His mother was looking at him in confusion, “What are you talking about? Who is (Y/n)?” Margaret asked as she followed her son’s eyes, desperately searching the cabinets and shelves that were in the apartment from a distance. 

“My girl, my fiancée? Where is she?” Buck asked. Why didn’t anyone recognize her name? They knew about her, and how much he loved her. Why wasn’t anyone telling him where she was. Were they playing some kind of weird mind game with him? 

“How hard did you hit your head when you made that fall?” Phillip chimed in then. A feeling of annoyance slowly entered his body. “What? I-” he stumbled, but before he could even think of a proper something to say, his dad turned to Daniel. 

“Are you sure he’s okay?” Phillip asked his eldest, with a drink in his hand. Daniel sighed as he opened the fridge and grabbed a beer out of it as he read the label. “Yeah, why do you keep doubting me?” Daniel answered as he closed the fridge then again. “It’s not like I'm a doctor or anything.” He continued, with his eyes still burned onto the label of the beer and he made his way towards the living room part of the apartment. 

As Daniel and Phillip walk towards the couch, Buck’s eyes were locked onto the two of them. But then his attention was caught by something else. A sparkly, golden, 3D model of a ferris wheel was on one of the cabinets in his apartment. 

Determined, he walked towards the cabinet, standing in front of the ferris wheel as he let his fingers trace over the model. “What’s this?” he asked his mother who was following his steps. 

“No Idea. It doesn’t go with anything else I picked out.” Margaret answered his question. 

Only the thought of a ferris wheel made his mind go back to one of the worst days of Buck’s life. His fingers traced over the golden ferris wheel parts, as his eyes were locked onto the piece of decoration. 

The room around him seems to fade away. The sound of the television in the living room playing, and his family members communicating, it all dissolved into the deafening roar of rushing water. 

He was back on the pier. 

The sky was clear and blue, the sun’s reflection was shimmering off the ocean’s surface. Within the snap of a finger, the water retreated, a silent inhale before it’d drown Los Angeles. 

Buck lifted Christopher over his shoulder as he grabbed (Y/n)’s hand who was still staring at what ever the fuck was happening with the ocean. “(Y/n)! Come on!” he yelled as he roughly pulled her with him towards land again. 

He sees (Y/n). Terror in her eyes. Her hand slipping from Buck’s grip as the wave rips them apart.

“(Y/n)!” Buck gasps, his breath hitching. (Y/n) was fighting the water to keep her head up and above the water, but the waves were too strong. He can still feel the water closing in, pulling him under, tossing him through the wreckage. His lungs burn. His muscles scream. (Y/n)’s horrifying scream went through his marrow and bones again, like it did every time he thought back of that day. 

The memories crash into him like the waves did that day. 

“But if you like it, I love it.” His mom touching his shoulder and upper arm yanks him back to the conversation he was having with his mom. His chest heaves as he blinks, the 3D model of a ferris wheel coming back into focus. The sound of water is gone. The scream of (Y/n) still sounding faded in the back of his head. 

• Reality

(Y/n) walked those awful grey and white hospital hallways. She kept her head low, looking down at the ground as she didn’t know what to do with herself. (Y/n) didn’t know how to feel, there were so many emotions rushing through her body.

 She took another turn to the left, Chimney and Bobby came into her view. They were standing in front of one of the windows, looking into the room Buck was being placed in. 

“Hey.” she said, her tone worried. “What do we know?” she asked the two men in front of her who were slowly turning towards (Y/n) now.

“Not much, He’s alive. In critical condition. They had to put him into a medically induced coma to allow his body to rest and recover. The next twenty four hours are going to be crucial.” Bobby said, surprisingly calm. 

She didn’t want to even glance through the window. If she’d do that, things would be real. But it wasn’t a dream. If this was a dream, this would be the definition of a nightmare. But all the times she had pinched herself, wasn’t enough. She sighed as she finally found the courage to look through the window. 

Slowly she let her eyes wander to the bed Buck was lying on. This would be one of the moments that’d hunt her forever, the picture would be burned into her brain. She squeezed her eyes closed and bit her lower lip. It was real. 

She took another shaky breath, opening her eyes once more. Scanning the environment. “He’s on life support. Breathing with the help of a ventilator?” (Y/n) said, but it sounded more like a question. 

“The lightning strike was literally a shock to his system. Sent him into cardiac arrest.” Bobby explained the situation as (Y/n)’s eyes were only locked onto her fiancée who was hooked up to all those different machines. 

But Bobby’s explanation was interrupted by a soft sound of a ringtone. Bobby quickly fished his phone from his pocket as he read the caller-ID. “Oh- I’m sorry I have to take this..” he said, excusing himself as he walked away and pressed the phone to his ear. 

Chim took place next to (Y/n) who was still looking through the window. Chimney didn’t say anything as he joined her looking through the window. He gave her some time to just look in peace. There was already so much information coming towards her. 

“It’s so weird.. an hour ago he was up and jumping through the station with his jokes. And now, he’s in there.. hooked up to whatever machines to stay alive.” 

Chimney swallowed, his jaw tightening. “Yeah.” His voice was hoarse, raw with disbelief. “One second he’s making fun of your cooking skills, the next he’s—” He gestured toward the room, as if that explained everything. As if it ever could.

Silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating. (Y/n) bit her lip, her gaze tracing the pale face of the man lying in the hospital bed. He looked so still. So unlike Buck.

“He’s gonna wake up,” Chimney said suddenly, more to himself than anything. “He has to.” he added as he looked to his left, looking at (Y/n) who was trying to suppress her emotions.

(Y/n) didn’t answer right away. Their throat burned, emotions threatening to spill over. Finally, they nodded, forcing a small, fragile smile.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “He has to.”

And yet, as they stood there, watching Buck fight the battle they couldn’t help him with. All they could do was wait.

• Buck’s coma dream

After Buck had finally convinced coma dream Chimney that he actually knew him, he was hanging with him at the kitchen island. Chimney opened the fridge as he placed a bottle of beer right in front of him. “The last thing I remember is: we were at this apartment fire. It was raining. I went up the ladder and… there was a giant flash.” Buck was going over his thoughts once again. He pushes himself up and he opens the bottle of beer.

“Sounds like you were struck by lightning.” Chimney said, looking at Buck who was starting to pace through the room. “Yeah but, I don’t think I’m dead. It feels like some kind of coma dream.” Buck answered. But just as he turned around and started his first steps of pacing around the apartment..

His eyes fell onto the dining table of Chimney’s apartment. A miniature fire truck was lying on his side on the table. “What the…-” he stumbled, as the memories flashed before his eyes.

Within’ a blink of an eye he was lying on the ground. His hands pressed onto the asphalt beneath him as his left foot was in an odd angle. 

His ears were ringing, his eyes were trying to adjust to what ever the hell just had happened. His vision was blurry, and changing from red to yellow-ish every second. Buck’s hand brushed over the asphalt as he tried to scan the scene he was in. 

The glass windshield of the truck broke, and fell onto the ground. Sending an awful, horrible pain through his leg, making Buck grunt. 

Everything hurt. His head. his legs. his back. Even breathing hurted. 

Buck really didn’t really get whatever was happening. There was this boy, holding some kind of deadman trigger. He kept on wandering around, screaming something. But Buck’s ears were still ringing, so the voices sounded dull to him. 

Suddenly, Bobby was there. His hands in the air, slowly making his way towards the young boy as Buck himself kept fighting to keep his eyes open, and push himself up. Buck couldn’t really register what was happening. He only knew his leg hurted, his head was pounding like it was going to explode any second now. 

Then, Hen, Eddie and Chimney came rushing over towards him. “You’re still with us Buck?” Chimney asked, but he didn’t answer his question.  Hen placed a medic bag next to him as they began to access him. “Buck, how are we doing?” she asked as she dug through the bag. “Kind of numb.” he answered with a trembling voice. But was the only thing that basically could come out of his mouth. 

While Hen, Eddie and Chimney were diagnosing him and tried to give him first aid, he was only searching for her. “Buck!” (Y/n)’s voice, high and strained, cuts through the chaos. His head jerked up, searching for her, and there she was..

Held back by Bobby, his strong grip kept her from entering the scene, away from Buck. Her eyes were wide and in panic mode. 

“Let me help!” she cries, trying to push past Bobby who was in civilian clothes, but he shakes his head. “No. They’ve got this. You need to stay back.” His tone is firm, leaving no room for argument, but she didn’t care.

“That’s my boyfriend!” she snaps, fighting against his hold. “I can’t just—just stand here!” she cried.

He wanted to tell her it’s okay, that he got this, but the truth was, he didn't. The pain in his leg was unbearable, and he didn’t know if he could keep it together much longer.

“Hang in there Buck” Hen’s voice cuts through the noise. Buck’s breath is coming too fast. The edges of my vision blur. The pain is worse than anything he had ever felt, like his leg is being ground into dust. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the pain. Every firefighter on scene was coming together, getting ready to tilt this truck off his leg. But then his eyes snapped open. And suddenly (Y/n) is there, right in front of him. Bobby had let her go. Or maybe she fought him off, he didn’t know. All he knew was the fact that she was in front of him, holding his arms, ready to slide him from underneath if she could. 

“I’m here,” she breathes, her voice shaking but determined. “Y-Y/N,” he managed, his voice was raw. She shook her head quickly, brushing damp hair from his forehead “Yeah, baby. I’m right here. Just hold on, okay?” she said softly, as she looked to the people who were ready to lift the truck. 

The metal groans as the team works to lift the truck. A rush of hope rushed through his veins, only to be crushed under another wave of agony as the pressure on his leg shifts. A scream leaving Buck’s lips before he could stop himself. His entire body was trembling.  

“I’ve got you, baby. I’ve got you.” she whispered softly, her thumb brushing over his arms as a attempt to soothe him. 

He was looking at the miniature truck between his fingers. Chimney had been in a coma when that rebar went through his head years ago. Maybe he knew something about coma dreams. With those thoughts, he placed the miniature truck back onto the table and turned around. 

“Okay so, when you were in your coma, what do you remember?” he asked, as he slowly walked back towards the kitchen island Chimney was leaning against. “Nothing” Chimney answered. This was so not helpful. “How long have you been walking around in this coma?” Chimney asked now. 

He shrugged his shoulders, “Uh, I don’t know. Time is weird. Maybe two days?” he guessed. “Wait, you've been walking around in an alternative universe for two days and now you’re just now starting to ask questions?” Chimney asked as he pushed himself from leaning on the kitchen island and started walking towards Buck now. 

“It was kinda nice at first, until I asked my family about (Y/n)...” he told Chimney. But if his family didn’t know (Y/n).. Maybe Chimney would, right? “Wait, you know her right?” Buck asked before Chimney could react to his words. 

Chimney took a moment to think, repeating her name multiple times as he looked to the ceiling. “No, I don’t think I do..” he said, pressing his lips into a thin line and shaking his head. 

The panic was rising in his chest, but maybe he needed a wake up call. “You know, always hanging around the firehouse, always laughing at my dumb jokes.” he tried to help him remember. But he shook his head again. “Buck, I swear, I have no idea who you’re talking about.” Chim said. 

“You have to know her! She’s your colleague, friend, she’s my fiancée for god sake!” A mix of panic, stress and desperation filled his voice. “I’m sorry, but I’ve never heard that name before,” he said. 

No. No, this wasn’t right. (Y/n) was real. He could still hear their voice, still feel their touch. Why didn’t anyone recognize that name? 

Buck’s throat tightened. His chest heaved as he stared at his friend, searching his face for any sign that this was some twisted joke. But Chimney looked genuinely confused. His hands dug into his hair as the walls closed in. His lungs burned.

With his hands in his hair, he felt his heart pound in his chest, trying to break free. His ears started pounding as his airways closed off. 

He pressed a flat hand on his chest, as he tried to take a breath. But his lungs weren’t working. “Wow, hey, hey, hey!” “Are you okay?” Chimney asked as he saw Buck was having trouble getting air. 

Buck grabs his throat, as a sign that he couldn’t. Blood was rushing towards his head, making it red as he gasped for air. Buck’s eyes became blurry as he tried to keep his balance by holding on to the kitchen island. But he fell down to his knees. “Try to calm down! Try to breathe!”  

• Reality

It has been two days since the accident. And to be honest, (Y/n) hasn’t left this room ever since. Only to use the restroom, get some food or drinks. But most of the time she didn’t have to, because if there was someone who came to visit Buck, they brought something for (Y/n). 

The door was closed, but (Y/n) was sitting across from Buck in some kind of “lazy” hospital chair. She wouldn’t do anything except looking at him, keeping an eye on the machines he was hooked up on, and just watching him breathe. The constant beeping of the machines would sometimes make her fall asleep, like right now. 

“Hey” Chimney said as he walked through the hallway, aiming for Maddie who was looking through the window. “Shouldn’t you be inside with your brother?” he continued. Maddie shook her head, Chimney stopped beside her and followed her eyes letting out a soft sigh. 

(Y/n) was sleeping, her head leaning onto her hand that was placed onto the armrest of the chair. “How long has she been in there?” Maddie asked Chimney, since he got more updates from his crew. “She hasn't left.” Chimney answered her question. Tears were burning in Maddie’s eyes as she looked at the two in the room. 

Maddie had given (Y/n) a new set of clothes on the day it happened. She had hoped (Y/n) would’ve gone home every now and then, but the girl was determined. She had to be there when he woke up. 

The constant beeps switched, they became more and more within the second. (Y/n)’s eyes shot open, like she felt something was wrong. Her eyes shot from Buck’s body right towards the machines. In shock she watched the machines. The words “Lower limit warning” lit up in one of the screens in yellow letters. Her eyes rushed from the machine back to his body.

He was breathing like he was hyperventilating. She was alert the moment she read those words. (Y/n) pushed herself onto her feet, as she yanked the door open. “He can’t breathe!” she yelled as she was now in the grey empty hallways of the ICU. 

Tears burned in her eyes as she watched nurses suddenly dropping everything and running towards her. Everything around her became a blur as she felt two people standing next to her. Maddie’s hand was pressed onto her shoulder, trying to give (Y/n) some kind of comfort as Chimney tried to get the nurses into the room. “Hey, hey, hey! We need someone in here!” Chimney called out and pushed the door more open. 

The nurses were doing their job as (Y/n) stood in the door opening with Chimney and Maddie. Looking at whatever they were doing to help Buck. But (Y/n) couldn’t look at this. If he didn’t make it through, this wasn’t how she wanted to remember him. She turned on her heels, placing her hands on her head as she quickly blinked the tears away. 

• Buck’s coma dream

“What’s wrong with him?” Hen asked, pointing at Buck as she looked back at Chimney. 

Chimney held up his hands as he looked stressed at Buck who was still struggling with taking a single breath. “I don’t know, maybe he’s just having a panic attack.” Chimney guessed as he looked at his friend, hoping she’d know how to help him. 

Hen’s eyebrows furrowed as she looked at the guy in front of her. Was he for real? “Hey buddy, can you hear me?” she asked. Only receiving a nod from the complete stranger. “Buck can’t breathe.” Chimney concluded, as he watched him. 

But then, it was like the invisible hands that were tightening his airways close, let go all of the sudden. The choking had stopped, he could take a breath without any pain or difficulty. Buck let go of his chest and straightened his back, with a surprised look crossed over his face. 

Chimney and Hen looked at him in confusion. “Or maybe he’s pulling our legs. He’s fine.” Hen said as she switched looks between the two guys. “Sorry, I- I don’t know what happened. It was like all of the sudden my lungs just stopped working.” Buck apologized.  

"And now?” Hen asked as a second check. Buck stretched his arms, shaking his head as he felt nothing weird. “Uh, yeah, no.. I feel better.” he admitted. 

That still confused frown was on Hen’s face visible as she faced Chimney. “And how did this happen?” she asked him. “He was asking about (Y/n), that’s what brought this all on.” he explained, as they both looked at Buck now. 

It didn’t make sense to him. Why could no one in this silly coma dream tell him where (Y/n) was? This was his subconsciousness. He was in charge. Right? “How can it be that no one in this entire universe can’t tell me where my fiancée is?” Buck asked as he looked at both Chimney and Hen. 

Chimney just made the same face as he did a minute ago. There was no change in that. “Wait, wait, wait, that name does sound familiar to me.” Hen then said as she was thinking. 

There was a minute of silence, as a little spark of hope jumped in his chest. He gave her the space to think for a second. But after a moment, the back of Hen’s hand slapped against Chimney’s chest, hard. 

“Isn’t she that nurse from First Presbyterian?” Hen asked Chimney. Both eyes were burned on Chimney now as he was thinking. “You know? The one who’s in charge of the ER?” Hen tried to help him remember. Chimney’s eyes grew wide. “You’re right.”

-

He barged through the doors of the hospital and immediately made his way towards the ER. He knew this hospital like the back of his hand. 

“Excuse me? What are you doing?” A female voice asked him, as he pushed through the other set of swinging doors that made him enter the emergency room. 

He entered the ER, his eyes desperately searching for his girl. The lady at the desk probably was too lazy or busy to follow him and make him leave the ER. Buck only had eyes for one person only. And that’s when he saw her. 

She was smiling at one of her co-workers, that smile that made the rest of the world smile too. That smile that had him wrapped around her finger. She turned around and walked through the ER, leaving his line of sight. She was focused, busy, doing her job like nothing was wrong.

He called her name from a large distance as he watched her back walking away from him further and further. He called her name a second time as he made some speed to follow her. He called her name out even louder the third time. But she didn’t react, didn’t even glance his way.

Like she couldn’t hear him.

Frowning, he stepped closer, following her down the hallway. His pulse quickened. She wasn’t running, but she was moving fast, weaving between nurses and doctors, her attention elsewhere. But he knew a shortcut. 

Still, after a few moments, she started to look over her shoulder, like she could feel him following behind her. Like some part of her knew she was being followed.

She glanced back for a third time, and that’s when Buck made his move. Before she could take another step, he grabbed her upper arm, pulling her sharply into the nearest medicine supply closet.

A squeak left her lips as the door shut behind them. “What the hell-?” she gasped. The lights flickered on, and he saw her. She was here. It wasn’t some kind of döppelganger. It was (Y/n).

He exhaled sharply, his grip loosening around her upper arm. But he looked at her for a second, and pulled her into a crushing hug. His arms locked around her like she might disappear if he let go. 

(Y/n) froze in his embrace. “…Buck?” she said in a confused tone. But Buck shut his eyes, holding onto her tighter. “You’re okay, you’re here.” he whispered. 

She hesitated before answering, her voice careful. “Of course, I’m here.” Buck loosened his arms around her body as he looked her in her eyes again. “What are you doing here? Why are you a nurse?” he asked, his voice filled with confusion

(Y/N) met his gaze, something unreadable in her expression. Then, with the faintest smirk, she said, “You tell me. This is your dream. I’m just living in it.” she explained to him. 

His stomach dropped. “So… I’m dead,” he murmured as he let his eyes wander to the ground, his head ready to drown in his own thoughts. (Y/N) tilted her head slightly. “Close, but not quite.” 

His breath caught in his throat. “Then where am I? What is this?” He looked around the supply closet like the walls could give him an answer. “Is this… some kind of waiting room? Heaven? Hell?”

(Y/N) sighed, folding her arms as she looked at the panicked face of the guy in front of her. “You need to relax.” she told him. “Relax?” He let out a short, humorless laugh. “I’ve been stuck here for days, I keep getting flashbacks to traumatizing moments of my life, apparently I’m almost dead. Forgive me if I’m having a hard time relaxing.” He started pacing down the small part of the supplies closet. 

(Y/n) gave him a knowing look before turning away. “Come here.” she said as she walked over to one of the cabinets, opening both doors. Buck watched as she pushed aside bottles of medicine and supplies, revealing something that shouldn’t have been there.

There was a window.

His heart pounded as he stepped forward, through the glass he could see himself. He was lying in a hospital bed, intubated. Unmoving. Machines hooked up to him, beeping softly.

Bobby was there, his hand holding on tight to the rosary beads like it was his only lifeline. Also (Y/n) was there. The real her. Sitting at his bedside, her hands clasped together like she had been praying. 

The air in Buck’s lungs vanished at the image in front of him. 

In shock he watched the three people in the room. “What the hell is this?” Buck asked the (Y/n) who was standing beside him. He glanced to his right, waiting for her to answer. She met his eyes, blinking away the tears that were stinging in her eyes. “Well, Evan Buckley, that right there is reality, whatever is happening on this side is your deep dark subconscious.” she explained. 

The way she said his name made his heart skip a beat. She never called him Evan, only when she wanted to mess with him, but she surely never used his full name. 

Buck’s eyes wandered back to watch the scene in front of him. “Do you know what’s happening to me in there?” he asked. (Y/n) shrugged her shoulders, “Well, it depends on how you look at it. You could be dying or fighting for your life. But it’s kinda up to you.” she answered. Although that didn’t really answer his question. 

At that moment, Bobby stood up from his seat. He walked towards (Y/n) and gave her a hug, as Buck’s parents and sister entered the room, following a doctor. 

“W-what is happening?” Buck asks as panic was rising in his chest and voice. But (Y/n) didn’t answer as she just watched the scene in front of her. “What is happening!?” he asked again. 

But as he looked to his right, (Y/n) was gone. And a döppelganger of himself in a doctor's jacket was standing right next to him. He looked him up and down in shock. “Looks like they’re pulling the plug, Evan.” he said. Before he could even answer for himself, the doctor “him” cut him off. “They don’t care about you. You’re not good enough, you never have been.” he said. 

Buck looked at his döppelganger in shock, as he tried to figure things out. “This is all happening inside my head, which means I've been talking to myself the whole time.” He clarified to himself. “I don’t have to feel bad about not listening to you anymore.” He added as he shoved all the aside bottles of medicine and supplies off the shelves in front of the window. 

The döppelganger watched him with a smirk on his face. “What are you doing?” he said, cocky. “I have to get back! I’m running out of time!” The panic was written all over his face as he yanked all bottles and other supplies off the shelves, and moved the shelves from the window. “It’s impossible, there’s no way back there. You’re stuck with me.” The döppelganger claimed. 

“It’s not impossible! There’s not a locked room anywhere that, with the right tools and enough time, you can’t break into. I know that.” Buck told his subconsciousness. But he could hear a chuckle coming from the other him. 

He walked determined to the side of the room as he took a fire axe out of the red box. “There’s nothing for you in that room. No one in there needs you.” Döppelganger Buck said then, with that same stupid grin on his face. But instead of looking him in the eye, he watched the scene, there’s enough hurt in that room. (Y/n) hasn’t stopped crying since he laid eyes on the window, Bobby was praying with his rosary beads, and if he did that, it must’ve been bad. He wasn’t the only one hurting. 

“Keep telling that to yourself.” he said, and yanked the fire axe through the window. 

______

The first thing Buck felt was warmth. A gentle pressure against his hand. Steady. Familiar. Then, muffled voices entered his ears. The rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor. The scent of antiseptic and something softer… vanilla? No… coconut.

It was (Y/n).

His eyelids felt heavy, but he forced them open. The hospital lights were too bright, but they weren’t what held his focus. It was her.

Curled up in the chair beside his bed, her head resting against their joined hands, fingers wrapped around his like she had been holding on for dear life. His throat felt like sandpaper, his voice hoarse. “(Y/n)…” he managed to get out. 

She stirred instantly, her fingers twitching against his. Her eyes fluttered open, sleepy and dazed until her eyes landed on his. She froze. Her breath hitched.

“Buck?” Her voice cracked as she shot up, eyes wide with disbelief. A slow, tired smile tugged at Buck’s lips. “Hey.”

A strangled noise left her throat half a sob, half a laugh before she lunged forward, throwing herself into his arms. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, her body molding against his like she belonged there. He could feel her shaking, feel the way her breath hitched against his shoulder.

“Easy,” he croaked, though he had no complaints about being tackled with this much affection. (Y/n) pulled back to look at him, placing both her hands onto his cheeks, cupping his face. “You’re awake.” she whispered, tears spilling freely now.

Buck blinked up at her, brushing his thumb weakly against her hand. “Told you I’d see you in a bit.”

She let out a breathless, watery laugh, pressing her forehead to his. “You idiot,” she muttered. “You scared the shit out of me.” she said. His heart ached at the exhaustion on her face, the dark circles under her eyes, the tension still in her shoulders.

“How long have you been here?” he asked. She swallowed hard, running her fingers through his hair like she couldn’t believe he was real. “Since the moment you got here,” she admitted softly. “I never left. Except to use the restroom.” She cried. “And even then, I made Bobby stand guard.”

Buck’s chest ached, not from the coma, not from the accident but from the fact that she had stayed. She had never given up on him.

“Fiancée of the year,” he said, squeezing her hand weakly. (Y/N) let out a choked laugh, shaking her head as she placed a free hand onto his cheek again, rubbing her thumb against his skin. “Yeah, well, I kinda love you, so.” 

His eyebrows shot up and his lips twitched. “Kinda?” She exhaled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Shut up”

Her fingers brushed against his forehead gently, her thumb smoothing over his cheek. Her expression softened. “You shouldn’t be talking this much,” she told him. “You just woke up.” she continued. 

“I have a lot to say.” He then said. “And you can say it later,” she said firmly, already reaching for the call button. “I need to get a nurse-” she groaned. 

His hand shot up, slower than usual, and weaker than he liked but enough to stop her. Her breath caught as he intertwined their fingers again, holding her there. “Stay,” he whispered.

(Y/n) hesitated, her worry flickering between her brows. But one look at him and she melted. She squeezed his hand and leaned in, her lips brushing against his temple. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Buck sighed in relief, his eyes fluttering shut as exhaustion started creeping in. “Good,” he murmured sleepily. “Wanna marry you first.” he admitted. (Y/n) let out a breathless laugh, brushing her fingers through his hair again. “We will… when you’re out of the hospital.” she whispered. Buck sent her a small smile and as Buck drifted off again he knew, without a doubt, that he had made it back exactly where he belonged.

Home.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

<<< 9-1-1 Masterlist

[moontale-official]

HAPPY 7TH BIRTHDAY IVIS

[fushitoru]

rainy days and brownies

pairing ⸺ college/modern!au: bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ you wake up for some soft moments with your boyfriend that involves brownies (turned freaky)

warnings ⸺ smut, tooth rotting fluff, some mild angst?, gojo unfortunately mentions skibidi toilet, I think I made gojo gen z here, boob worship, brownies and baking, established relationship, oral (f!receiving), gojo eats pussy like a champ, NOT EDITED, might be incoherent to everyone except me, product of a forceful effort to escape writer’s block, rainy mornings <3, lots of intimacy, art by 3-aem, probably in the same universe as this

general masterlist

Rainy mornings with Satoru means baking.

It’s a ritual the both of you have fallen into. On a day like this, where the air smells like rain, you blearily wake up from your nap to smell the warm distinct aroma of overly sweet brownies.

The slutty brownies were Satoru’s masterpiece. Even if he did overdo the sugar, you can’t admit that your stomach was growling as you rubbed your bleary eyes and frowned while raking a hand through your head. This bed head was going to be a bitch to untangle with the hairbrush.

“AND IIIIIIIIIIIII, WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUU—“

You jumped, caught off guard by Satoru randomly deciding to pay homage to Whitney Houston. Standing up, you headed towards the living room of you and Satoru’s apartment—-not before you adjusted your tank top so your tits weren’t out and the boy shorts you chose to sleep in properly covered your ass.

“WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUUUU—-“ You cringed at Satoru’s attempt of a high note, grumpily looking at him use his chocolate covered spatula as a makeshift mic. He was in the kitchen—-shirtless, of course—-now bending over to peek at the state of his brownies in the oven. Deciding the brownies weren’t done yet, he closed the oven door and stood up once more, reaching for his phone to undoubtedly scroll through TikTok. Continuing to hum different variations of the chorus, he swiped at his phone, ignorant to your presence behind him.

You think he’s kind of sweet like this. If it weren’t for him, the both of you would never be in this position. You would always be the cold frigid bitch he saw in freshman orientation and occasionally at parties across campus, and he would be the sweet, friendly guy that all the girls would continue to fall head over heels for.

To be honest, you don’t really see what he sees in you. You’re like a Disney villain, the witch that entraps him in her webs of insecurity and jealousy, but he remains the valiant prince, fighting to get to you. When he finally has you in his arms, he kisses you into believing that you are his princess instead.

It’s obvious in the way he fought for you—memorizing your schedule, rushing across campus just to walk you to class, pleading with you to grab dinner. And each time, you’d brush him off with sharp rejections, finding excuses to keep him at arm’s length.

But when he finally had you, finally cracked all your defenses—he was never going to let you go. You could see as much; the way he proudly walked on campus with you at his side, across the main quad so he could boast that he got you. You were his, and he was fully, undoubtedly yours. At parties, his eyes would always be on you, raking his eyes up and down your figure in your nurse outfit, conjuring up the hundred and thirty four positions he would fuck you so good in, even if there were prettier girls clinging onto his arms asking for a morsel of his attention. Pettily enough, you would just need to sigh and mumble “This party isn’t fun,” to have Satoru whipped, ushering you out of the frat house while those girls glared at the back of your Halloween costume, angry beyond measure that a nobody like you has the campus sweetheart wrapped around your finger.

Loud booms of the Vine gunshot sound effect snaps you back into the present, where Satoru is snickering at some god awful brain rot. You choose to approach him, wrapping your arms around his waist and smothering your face into his muscular back.

“Hi baby,” you mumble.

“Guess which sleepyhead is awake!” He announces to the world and turns around, and your traitorous heart jumps in its chest while looking into his eyes. It’s stupid. You’re both in your PJs on a morning where the rain thuds against the window pane, blurring both the window and all outside life, suspending you both in this moment. His eyes look affectionately down to you, and he plants a wet kiss on your forehead. “How was your nap, baby?”

“It was good.” You watch him turn around again to peek at the oven, and he hums, upper arm flexing as he grabs the heavy bag of flour, dragging it closer to him. “When’d you get up?”

“Around 7.”

You shoot him a bewildered look as you hop onto the counter, a better space to observe your boyfriend. When he realized that you had woken up, he had left his phone open to give you a kiss, reel playing noises. You peek over and almost snort at what is playing.

“Satoru, why are you watching alligators get chased away by a shovel?”

He looks up from the bowl of brownie batter he was now cleaning—-with his tongue, mind you—-and grins boyishly. “Isn't it crazy how hundreds of years of evolution get destroyed by a shovel?”

”Your feed is not normal,” you shake your head, keeping a stony face as you continue to scroll through his TikTok. In fact, it’s hilarious—-the things he got were weirder than one could dream, with toilets producing heads of men taking over whole cities. You’re not sure what that means about your boyfriend, but you accept it as you watch the nonsensical video.

“Wait,” he makes his way over to you, standing in between your legs. “Is that skibidi toilet?”

“What the hell is that.”

“Baby,” he whines. “You don’t know the lore? I don’t know if I can be with you for any longer.”

Your bite back a grin. “And subjecting me to hours of FNAF backstory wasn’t testament to how much I love you?”

Before he could whine back, you noticed he had some leftover chocolate on the side of his mouth and leaned over to lick it. Humming at the taste, you grabbed his hands and took in his brownie coated index and middle finger into your mouth.

He frowns. “Are you trying to seduce me into forgiving you and giving you more brownies?”

You laugh softly and give him a soft smooch on his shoulder. “No, silly. If I ate any more than half, I would have diabetes.”

He grabs the back of your hips and pulls you closer into him, nuzzling his nose against yours. The physical contact rubs at your nerves the right way, firing off that emotional part of you that makes you think loving him is so easy. How lucky you are that he’s chosen to give you his love.

His god-awful alarm blares—same annoying sound he keeps hitting snooze on for his 7ams—and the moment breaks as he reaches for the oven mitts to pull out the brownies. The aroma hits you instantly, making your mouth water. Satoru blows dramatically on the brownies, pouting and mock-yelling, “Hurry up and cool down! My girlfriend wants to eat you.” You can’t help but giggle. Once Satoru finally decides they’re cool enough, he grabs one and offers it to you. “Make way for the choo-choo train!” he snickers, guiding the brownie through imaginary tracks, a shit-eating grin on his face, before plopping it into your mouth.

You can’t help but let out a soft sigh as the brownie melts on your tongue, its warmth enveloping your senses. Rich, velvety tones of chocolate overwhelm your mouth, with each bite releasing a symphony of deep, indulgent flavors that linger long after the brownie is fully swallowed. “Wow, this is actually good.”

He pauses, brownie and hand held in mid air. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug innocently but stick your tongue out to him regardless.

Popping the brownie in his mouth--but not before sending you a pout---he brushes his hands together to remove the brownie crumbs as he makes his way back in between your legs. The way he settles between them makes you all too aware of the heat of his groin encompassing you. He lazily drags his eyes up your figure, but not before settling on your outfit. His eyes then flick down to watch his hands trace the hem of your tank top, and your eyes follow his hands, a little dizzy by the action.

You’re always a bit sensitive in the mornings, and before this day, you and Satoru’s interactions have been limited to a kiss before he runs for his 7am and then doing college work until 3am, where you’re both too tired for anything particularly frisky. So, yea, you are kind of pent up---and judging by the bulge that’s starting to form in Satoru’s sweats, you assume he is too.

You put your elbows on his shoulder blades to give him head scratches from behind and lean towards his jawlines giving small kisses. You can feel him close his eyes, purring silently like a cat, and underneath your hands, his back and shoulder blades tense and relax as you rake your hands over his scalp.

“This new?” He uses his index finger to snap the strap of your tank top against your shoulder, using his mouth to given open mouthed kisses to your collarbone.

“Mhm,” you hum, a little deliriously at that---he’s begun to trail down, mouth working at the swell of your breasts.

He slowly pulls the collar of your tank down, down down down until your breast pops out. His eyes trace the swing urgently and groans. “I missed these, sweet girl.”

You gasp sharply when he puts it in his mouth, tongue swirling around the nipple. Satoru’s always been a boob guy, joking about his hands being your bra to support “those mommy milkers.” Right now, he’s doing just that; groping the hell out of them and giving them kisses, as if they were God’s greatest creation.

As much as you were enjoying your boyfriend’s boob worshipping, you need more. You were throbbing in want of contact on your pussy, and you made sure to relay just that. “Toru, I need more,” you whined.

“God forbid a man appreciate nice boobs.” He rolls his like the sassy man he is and parts with your nipple like lips after a messy and wet make out session. Your breasts are gleaming with his spit, a string connecting your nipple to his lips. He trails his face down your torso, making his way down to his knees until he was facing your crotch.

You whine and clench your thighs together to draw his face closer to the space between your thighs. He looks up at you and coos, giving your inner thigh a kiss. “I can smell you from here, cutie.”

His statement reminds you that you’re not too wet in the mornings. As soon as you wake up, some of your morning sessions with Satoru require the aid of lube to ensure no pain. Irritation flares at you at the thought that you might need to leave your position to grab some l—-

Oh.

“What the hell. I thought you wet your pants,” Satoru giggles. The finger running through your folds glides messily, as you both marvel to how wet you are. You’re also on another plane; you haven’t felt his touch for weeks, and the feeling overwhelms you as the squelches your pussy makes echo throughout the kitchen.

Satoru gives you a kiss on your neck. “Baby, can I?” You deliriously remember that he’s lightly circling his finger around your entrance and when you finally give him the okay, he pushes in.

Both of you groan at how tight you are. “Satoru,” you moan and proceed to bring him in for a kiss as he pistons in and out of your pussy, curling them just the way you like and making you see colors.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he groans. “Left my baby so pent up.”

At that, all you can do is nod and whimper in agreement. All that leaves your mouth are gasps of his names and oh my god’s because he’s making you feel so good.

And then, you almost scream as you feel him blowing hot air onto your folds, leaning down to give teasing kitten licks around your clit, but not directly on it. His tongue drags up and down until he finally stops it right next to your clit as if feeling the sensation of your pussy throbbing, echoing your fastened heartbeat skin-to-skin while drooling.

Frustrated, you try to move your hips, but Satoru grabs them to stay in place. He’s so close to the place you want him, but he’s stationed in one place, spit flowing down as his tongue is still and his dark eyes are staring at you as if enraptured by your struggling.

“Satoru, please lick my clit,” you moan wantonly, begging for him to change his position.

But Satoru Gojo wouldn’t be Satoru Gojo without some teasing. “What was that, baby? Avoid your clit? You got it.”

“No,” you sobbed, grabbing onto his hair and directing his tongue to your clit. This time, he relents, sucking the bud into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, making you see stars.

But soon, his quick and fast lapping turn into lazy licks, and you get frustrated, grinding against air and pussy oozing out wetness as Satoru keeps his tongue outstretched in front of you but not close enough to make contact with your skin, teasing. You hate the feeling of your pussy throbbing and the inner thighs and pussy wet with your slick, lacking the sensation you needed to finally climax. “Oh my god, Satoru, please make me cum.”

“I don’t know baby, you sound pretty commanding to me.” The motherfucker shrugs as if he has nothing to do with your dilemma and starts trailing kisses up your inner thigh. His touches were close to where you needed him most, making you ache for the sensation of his wet laps against you.

“Please, baby,” you beg. “You feel so good, you’re making me feel soo good. I love you so much. Please let me cum.” You’re full on sobbing, hips writhing to get any sensation in.

Satoru, at your display, seems to give in, because he’s coming in once more, giving you a sweet little kiss on your clit. You nearly ascend.

He’s diving in, making a rhythm of dipping his tongue into your entrance and coming back to give sloppily wet laps on your clit. It’s when he groans while his tongue is inside, hot air and vibrations needily simulating your clit, that you come up with a gasp. You roll your hips, Satoru giving you little licks to help you ride out your orgasm.

For how hard you came, you’re bucking your hips frantically, body on a mind of its own as you almost fall off the counter. Satoru has to grip your thighs to prevent that potential injury and rubs soothing circles on the outside of your thigh as you pant, wetness and sweat likely painting the counter beneath you. It’s not until your breath returns back to it’s normal pace that you notice Satoru’s head against your thighs, looking up at you with lovesick eyes.

You’re probably giving him the same look back, you realize, given he made you ascend to heaven and back. He gives an affectionate kiss to your mound, moaning corny shit like “Your pussy tastes sweeter than the brownie.”

And then he stands up, knees popping on the way back up, and despite your fucked out state, you can’t help but giggle. “You old man with the popping knee caps.”

He glares at you playfully, but you know his expression too well to know there’s no real offense in it. “Hey. Rude to say that after I just made you cum your brains out.”

”And you’re about to get the same thing,” you purr, putting a hand on his hard-on. He hisses but looks at you with lust blown eyes as he grabs the back of your thighs to carry you to your shared bedroom.

Yes, rainy days do mean baking with Satoru, but not without intimacy with your even sweeter boyfriend in bed.

general masterlist

comment or reblog to let me know your thoughts! I appreciate all of them <3

a/n lol this was a bitch to write. this might be a word soup or salad or whatever for all readers and that’s ok! I’ve written this primarily at 1am so…

eugh ok im going back to writing ch5 of bridgerton!gojo and fixing the em dashes in this post when i wake up LOL

[readwritealldayallnight]

“-and every year after that, we always had double chocolate chip cookies instead of regular chocolate chip. Made me stand out at the school bakes sales, too! And I would beg and beg and beg my mom to make them before any other sweets-”

“Got my stomach grumblin’ over here now, love.” Simon cuts off your rambling with a loving chuckle. The first winter’s snow began falling from the sky in London that morning, and you’d been eager to tell your lover about the traditions you’d had growing up around this time of year.

“Well imagine how I felt, Si!” You say with a giggle, patting his stomach in emphasis. “I swear, it’s become a true Pavlovian response, I see the first snowflakes and I instantly start craving those cookies again. Like when I was little…”

Simon sees the melancholic smile playing across your lips, and he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that first chance he gets, he’ll be ringing your mum to get said recipe from her.

And if you walk into your shared flat a few days later, the smell of burnt something wafting through the air, fire alarm beeping incessantly, coming upon a flustered looking 6’4” behemoth of a man swatting a flowery dish towel through the air in attempt to dissipate the smoke coming from the oven, well, the sentiment behind your lover wanting to surprise you with your favourite treat from childhood is a thousand times sweeter than the cookie itself.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Ooh, look at those ones over there!” You exclaim, tightening your grip on Simon’s arm. You’re both strolling through a local farmers market on a dreary Sunday afternoon with nothing better to do. Your free hand points towards a stall selling beautifully intricate bouquets of flowers. “They’re so pretty for this late in the season.”

Simon is glancing over at the stall, minutely nodding in agreement, before his gaze shifts back to the crowd.

“Want one?”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. Just thought they looked nice. We don’t need any.” You say, leading him past the stall, not noticing when he glances back over his shoulder to remember the name written at the top of the display.

Once back home, upon hearing your gasp of surprise followed by what he recognizes now as your excited squeal, he smirks to himself in the other room, knowing you’ve stumbled upon the bouquet he had delivered during your nap.

What you don’t know is that he’s already set it up so that you’ll be receiving a new fresh set of flowers every week now, delivered straight to your front steps.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Really wasn’t that bad this time around, promise.” You mumble into his firm chest, his muscular arms holding you there as you snuggle on the couch. He got back from a two week deployment last night, and you’re still catching him up on everything he missed. “I made a point of going outside everyday, for a change of scenery at least.”

“Tha’s good, lovie.” He whispers, running his digits through the strands of your hair, careful not to tug any time he runs into knot, instead gently trying to comb it out himself.

“Not like I was all alone, anyhow.” You say with a small giggle, biting your lip. He finds himself answering with his own lighthearted chuckle, sitting up straighter to glance at the table over your shoulder. “Gave me something to look forward to each day, feeding the lil’ guy.”

“Was hoping it’d be a nice surprise for ya. Not another chore…”

“Oh, Goldie’s not a chore.” You laugh, swatting at Simon’s chest. You also take the time to glance over at the goldfish in question, swimming in the small circular fish bowl that Simon had somehow snuck into the flat the day before he left. He hated the idea of leaving you alone all the time, never knowing when he’d have a chance to speak on the phone, and he didn’t want to burden you with a larger, more high maintenance animal like a dog or cat. And so, Goldie was brought home.

“Although, I’m worried maybe he’s getting lonely when I’m out of the house. Might have to get him a friend.”

Simon doesn’t even try to hide the corny grin that spreads across his face.

“Have I ever told you the joke about the two goldfish in a tank?”

[supernatural-bias]

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞'𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦

↳ summary: the x-men can't seem to leave you alone, even if you've made it clear that you want nothing to do with them. as a last-ditch effort, they send logan, who's a little different than the rest

↳ notes: man writing this fucked me up. i kept editing it because i didn't like how it sounded, so some feedback would be much appreciated

↳ warnings: mentions of blowing things up in a past instance, but no one died. reader is a mutant and their powers are kept ambiguous, but it is implied they can somehow cause explosions

↳ song: promiscuous—nelly furtado

masterlist | commissions | carrd

The first time they sent someone, you had been excepting it

You weren't dumb. You knew the difference between an innocent bystander and a hired gun; or at least something along those lines. The way people walked talked and carried themselves was always a dead giveaway, and recently you had been surrounded by a few too many intense stares and stiff shoulders for your liking. A lot more than you were used to, in fact. Maybe that's what prompted you to start taking a new way home from work instead of the usual combination of cross walks and dirty bus seats.

The quick guy with silver hair was their first attempt at contact. You had found him waiting outside your apartment for you to get home all but a week after noticing the new attention on you, and you would have ignored him too if it wasn't for the fact that he was sitting on the outside your balcony, kicking his feet merrily off the side about ten stories above the pavement below without a care in the world. And with what looked like a twinkie in his hand, too.

You'd closed the blinds without a second thought, tossing him a fake grin and a little wave when he eventually turned around as you slammed them shut. You were fairly certain he could have stopped you in no time flat, if the way you would watch him zip away in the blink of an eye later said anything, but you took a heat-of-the-moment gamble and were satisfied when all your efforts got was a whine from the other side of your window pane. His mouth was too full of pre-packaged pastry to say anything in the moment, you realized

"Not interested." You called over your back as you began to retreat into your kitchen without another moments notice.

"You haven't even heard what I want!" He said thickly, clearly trying to swallow as he spoke. You must have startled him a little then. Good.

"And I don't need to."

He left a few minutes later when his one sided conversationalist skills got him no where, and you responded by throwing a frozen pizza in the lower half of your oven.

You had been craving pepperoni all day anyway.

The second person try was a bit more aggressive.

They didn't have the decency to wait for you to come home this time. Instead, you found yourself looking up from your laptop as a chair was pulled out across from you at the quaint table you sat at. It made a scraping noise, and you tensed the muscles in your hands for a moment at the sound.

"Can I help you." Your eyebrow quirked up as you looked at the woman across from you. She had blonde hair, and what you thought were the brownest eyes you had even seen. You had trouble looking anywhere but into them for a second. When they hit the light, you swore they turned yellow just for a moment, and she looked about as annoyed as you were that she was sitting by you. You didn't have to wait long to find out why.

"We've been trying to reach you." The surrounding noise of the café hardly disturbed the hard tone in her voice. "You're avoiding us."

At least this time these people had the common sense to approach you in public. If you were any form of confrontational, which you very much weren't, you could have started a fight the last time. Who knows if you would have won against super speed and whatever else the first guy had— you weren't exactly sure about the extent of his powers, and at this point didn't care —but the point remains that some damage could have been done. Now, in the middle of a coffee shop on a busy afternoon, it would be a bit harder to start a fight. Not that you were seriously concidering it. If anything, you wanted to duck into a large crowd just to loose this new recruiter, or whatever they were called. You didn't exactly know if they had a name for this type of situation.

"I have no idea who you are." Your tone matched her own, dealing out the half lie nonchalantly. You weren't technically wrong, really. You didn't know her, nor did you know that other man that had shown up before. But you knew what they wanted, and you'd be damned if they didn't pin you down without a bit of a struggle.

Moving with a speed quick enough to get your message across, but not fast enough as to alert any of the surrounding coustomers that something was up, you closed your laptop, abandoned your now lukewarm drink, and started for the door. You only paused in your movements after a weight settled over the back of your shoulder, and you carefully turned your neck to look down at the hand resting firmly on you.

"I don't recommend doing that." You said with a bit of a warning tone in your voice, looking her right in the eyes as you did so. They had since shifted from dark brown to an almost hazel shade, and you filed that information away for later use.

Her grip remained where it was for a moment. Then a thought seemed to cross her mind, and she let go of her hold on your shirt; even if a bit reluctantly.

You didn't stick around to see if anything else would happen. You just made your way out of the shop and into the bustling street, not caring if she followed. They already knew where you lived anyway.

"Taxi!!"

The final person they sent for you, you hadn't seen coming.

Every other time— from the teleporting blue kid, to the woman with white hair and fair skin, and even the tall guy in glasses that had turned a little blue when you pushed your way past him —you had been able to prepare beforehand. At the very least you were able to lock your doors before going out and about your day. You knew that wouldn't stop them in the slightest, but it was a silent message to stay out of your business.

But this guy? This guy just didn't care at all.

"You know, you're really nailing this first impression thing."

A gruff voice sprang to life at the same moment that your hallway lights did, doing a fine job at catching you off guard. You managed to not jump, but with the way the intruders lips tilted up, you figured he knew he had surprised you.

"Oh, fuck my life."

You were really not feeling like another impromptu visit tonight. You had gotten home from a rough day of work a couple of hours ago, only to realize that you had finally blown through all your food, and was once more sent back out into the city to look for a grocery store. You had been looking forward to finally resting your feet, and maybe your eyes a few hours earlier than planned, and you most certainly weren't in the right state of mind to entertain this hulking figure of a man and the proposition that came with him.

You looked at him harshly. He had muscles for days, and a brown leather jacket to accentuate just how large he was. You knew for a fact that he was a few weight classes up from the last guy that had been sent to your house, and you wondered if this was their way of trying to intimidate you into forcefully accepting their offer.

Tiny scars dotted his face and the skin on his neck. You wondered why there were so few, considering that you already knew what he did for a living, but also knew better than to question someone like him. Especially since he was already standing in the doorway to your home, looking like he owned the place.

"Go away." You didn't grant him any sort of emotion in your voice as you walked in the direction of your fridge. The plastic bags full of your food for the week swung in your arms, and for a moment you thought this new guy was going to block your way into the rest of the house before he backed off with a roll of his shoulders.

You clocked his broad chest and bruised knuckles out of the corner of your eyes as you opened the ice box and slowly placed some frozen veggies in side by side. He had either gotten here straight from a fight, or was itching for one. You figured it was probably the former considering he hadn't jumped you the second you walked through the door. Or you know, maybe he just had fucked up hands. You could never tell with people at this point.

"You're pleasant." The mans wry smile was nothing but headache educing as you finished putting the cold groceries up. You snorted with hollow amusement.

"Try being stalked for a month and a half. It really makes you feel like being hospitable."

"Try being the guy that gets sent to get in contact with you. It ain't exactly the way I wanted to be spending my Friday night either." He parroted back your words while running a hand down his face and across what you had since recognized as mutton chops in the process.

"When are you going to tell that professor of yours that I'm not interested in his little passion project." You think that might have been the first time you ever directly acknowledged what exactly was going on. Every other time you had just told the other person to get lost or slammed a door in their face to really get the point across, but the way this guy was looking at you gave you the feeling that he wouldn't be as easy to shoo away as the others, and you weren't really feeling up for a giant display of effort right about now.

"You could always tell him yourself, bub." His eyes followed your face as you crossed the room to stop in front of him, hand outstretched with something that ignited a small smirk on his face.

"Trying to bribe me?" He asked, going to take the fresh beer you offered him all the same. You shook your head.

"No. My master plan actually consists of getting you shit-faced drunk so you guys will finally leave me alone." You watched as his hand hesitated in mid-air slightly, and you misinterpreted his silent amusement at your jab for skepticism. "I've just got too much beer and a stranger in my apartment that's not going to leave me alone anytime soon, that’s all." You relented with a shrug.

"Fair enough." He took the brown bottle by the neck and popped open the top without so much as looking around for a bottle opener. When the cap went rushing to the floor less than a second later, you squinted.

"What are you then? Super strong? Or is your power alcoholism." That got a rough chuckle out of him. He swallowed about half of the bottle in one go before answering, and you sucked at your teeth as he did so.

"Something like that."

"Wow. Really feeling the comradery here." You didn't miss the way he deadpanned at that, and you figured he was thinking about all of the times you had kicked every other pursuer to the curb without even letting them get a word in edge wise. Still, you pushed on. "Remind me how its fair that you and your friends know all about me, but I have a new hero-of-the-week showing up on my doorstep every other day without so much as a clue as to what they could do to me?"

"About as fair as your little accident in Colorado." He responded without a seconds hesitation. You felt a little perspiration form on the back of your neck, and chalked it up to the lack of a.c in the room. Even if it was anything but.

"If you're here to try and convince me to join your little superhero team, I hate to tell you, but it isn't going to work. Just like it didn't work the past ten times." You ignored his last comment and made yourself comfortable on your living room couch. "Do you have a name? I've never really stuck around to talk to one of you this long before, and it's annoying to keep rendering to you as 'some guy' in my head."

He paused abruptly while drinking the beer, and you barely held back from rolling your eyes at his change in mood.

"It's Logan." He finally bit out reluctantly. You got the feeling that the only reason he told you was because he was here by request. If it has been any other circumstances, you had no doubts that he would have told you to fuck off. He gave off that energy.

"You already know mine, so I'm not gonna bother." You kicked your feet up and let your head hit the back of the couch with a sigh. "Just let me know when you finally get bored and head out. I want to make sure my landlord knows to blacklist you from the building after you're gone."

"Is this how you got everyone else to leave? By annoying them to death?" Logan sounded more entertained then you would have liked, and you blamed it on the beer.

"Depends. Is it working?"

"I've been sleeping at a school filled with screaming kids for the past few weeks. You're going to have to try harder than that to get me out of here." He took another swig.

"What will it take to get you to leave me alone. All of you." Your voice dipped out of it's usually casual tone for a more annoyed one. You were used to playing the long game when it came to getting people to leave you alone, but at this point it was getting ridiculous with the amount of people that they were throwing at you, and it was starting to wear you out. You weren't sure if Logan could tell your patience was being tested, and you weren't sure if you wanted him to.

Logan raised one eyebrow in your direction as an answer to your question, and you sighed.

"I'm not taking a stupid fucking spot on the X-Men if that's what you're implying. What do I have to do to convince you guys that I'm not up for it; blow up a building on accident or something?" The word 'again' went unsaid, but the implication was there.

You watched as Logan seemed to throw something around in his mind for a moment.

"Do you want to know why I joined the X-Men?" He eventually asked.

"Because you had nothing else to do with yourself other than styling your hair real stupid? Seriously what's with this horn thing you've got going in."

"I joined because they helped pull me off a dark path, kid." He barreled past your sarcasm, shutting you down quicker than you would like to admit. His tone was laced with something you recognized all as hatred, and you knew it wasn't directed at you, but rather himself. You knew the feeling all too well.

"I was running from something that I didn't even know I was trying to avoid." He continued. "And if it wasn't for the Professor and his 'stupid fucking team', I wouldn't have ever stopped."

For the first time in the past few minutes, you allowed one of your walls to come down as he spoke. You stared at him with a tired look lingering behind your gaze, choosing this time to listen rather than to ignore.

"I'm not running from anything." Even as you said it, you knew it was a lie. Logan didn't even have to look at you for you to sigh and lean forward again.

"I can see why the Professor wants you on the team." You felt the cushions on the opposite end of your couch dip slowly as he sat down. The now empty beer bottle was still in his hand, but as you looked over at Logan, you found his eyes filled to the brim with nothing but the honest truth.

It was a strange, tense moment. Both you and Logan could admit that. You were clearly filled with regret for your past actions, no matter how accidental they might have been, and conflicted with yourself because of it. Logan could do nothing more but watch as you battled with yourself over his words. His original plan had been to come here, show off a claw or two if needed, and bring you back to the school with a characteristic scowl on his face. But all that was thrown out the window when you offered him a beer, and when he was finally able to get a good look at you.

You looked exactly how he used to before one of his old cage matches. Detached and losing yourself. He could see it in your eyes.

The room delved into silence. You wrung your hands together and planted your feet. Logan watched as you seemed to have a silent conversation with yourself, and he began to regret not pacing himself with the beer. He wasn't anywhere near affected by the alcohol, that's to say. He just wished he had something to do other than sit in your home with squared shoulders and a furrowed brow.

"If I took one trip over to the place, would you guys let up on whatever this is?" You finally asked. Logan pushed down a faint smirk as you turned your neck to look at him.

"Sure."

You didn't say anything else, and you didn't have to. You got up without another word and grabbed a bag from a nearby closet. Logan found himself leaning on your doorframe as you stuffed a few essentials down into your travel bag in the room over, and he remained there until you finished.

"Still curious about my powers?" Logan decided to bait you just a little further as you shut the door to your apartment with a click of your keys, and he had trouble keeping a straight face when you looked back at him with curiosity dancing across your features.

Without saying anything, he held one of his hands up, and let you watch as his trademark claws popped up slowly. Like seasonal weeds in a garden full of flowers. The appendages let out a slight sliding noise as they did so, and you blinked once. Twice. Three times.

"And I thought my powers were bad." You finally said after a moment, and Logan scoffed at you.

"Kid, everyone thinks their powers are bad at first."

You seemed to take that as a challenge, and Logan watched as a bit of that fire that he'd heard about from Storm and the others flared up in you.

"Yeah? You ever accidently blow up a boiler room and take out half your high school's classes, big guy?" Your grin was all teeth as the two of you made your way down the complex hallway. Logan slowed his pace so you could keep up, and turned around so he could fully look at you as he walked backwards.

"Big guy?" He questioned you with a tilted of his head, looking about as unimpressed as he could.

"I mean yeah." You snickered. "Just look at your, well, everything." You took to gesturing at his entire being, something that got you a huff from the other man.

"Maybe you're just small." He shot back. You laughed and shook your head, looking down at yourself. Yeah right.

"And maybe I'm right, and you're just freakishly big."

Your banter continued all the way down to the elevator, where you had a hard time holding in your laughter as Logan accidentally almost stabbed the down button with his claws, apparently having forgotten that they were even out.

You couldn't help but wonder if he was always like this; if everyone at the school was like this.

Maybe going for a visit wasn't as much as a bad idea as you'd thought.

[boowritess]

bonus part 2

simon can't cook-

okay no he CAN. okay? but it's very much- chop up whatever the fuck is in the fridge throw it in a pot, add as much meat he can find. then he's sorted. creating some sort of stew. but if not that. he thrives off 2 minute noodles.

listen, he's a working man. he can't be fucked thinking about what to make.

and if he needs to eat while not deployed and wants something, he'll get takeaways so he doesn't have to think about it.

and if ya'll are together - whatever you make... motherfucker eats that shit up like he's in a 5-star fucking reasturant.

you made scrambled eggs with bacon??? he's astounded. absolutely in love. has never been more satisfied in his life.

but oh lord. when he retires..

retired!simon fucking riley finds his fucking calling in cooking.

you no longer have to worry about cooking. nah-uh. not with this man who has all the time in the world to hone in on this new culinary world.

idk i just think it's so cute to think about simon going from beans on toast for breakfast to fluffy buttermilk pancakes or french toast with bacon a berry compote.

then for dinner; it's suddenly a whole line of sushi with all your favourites, dumplings to follow and a beef udon recipe dish. or maybe it's a simple roast - however, a perfectly seasoned meat has been sitting for a while in the oven for so long that when you cut into it, it's juicy and tender. and simon fucking beams at the faces you make.

dessert is a whole other game that simon fucking mastered. seriously. because he's placing down a skillet brownie, topped with ice cream and cream. And when you put a spoon into it, it fucking drips with chocolate ya'll.

just rahhhh retired!simon that turns into chef!simon. who just spoils you day and night with food. who gains the ability to make whatever dish you want, whenever you want. 3am and you want a grilled cheese? he can whip it up in seconds and it'll taste like the most gourmet grilled cheese you have EVER had.

btw, i'm torn between making him a gordon ramsay in the kitchen or him being the complete opposite and being so sweet and patient with you when you want to help him.

WAIT- speaks like gordon ramsay but treats you softly. like, you're not cutting with the knife correctly you fucking donkey. but instead of taking it off you, he presses up behind you, gently cups your hands with his and shows you how to do it safely. and he's speaking so sweetly and softly. a stark contrast to when he called you a fucking donkey - but hey you'll get your bite back. ;)

a/n: i can't fucking breathe this was so funny to write. i'm sorry idk why he called u a donkey. i'm fucking hungry if it wasn't obvious with this post.

[marcyvamp1re-blog]

We need a part two of the harley quinn mother headcanons!

SUGAR & SPICE!

pairings ⸺ Mother! Harley Quinn x Teen! Reader.

(PLATONIC FIC)

¿Request? Yes!

This is a Headcanon!

sinopsis ⸺ Every mother reaches the moment when she sees her chick starting to become independent from the nest. Harley loved you from the moment she found you in that abandoned alley, and now she finds it hard to accept that you are drifting away.

If she knew why you were leaving her behind, she would probably be thinking about putting Robin in the oven.

warnings ⸺ Fluff and Angst, Platonic Cuddling, ¿OOC Harley? Idk, Disturbing Content, Street Fights, Violence, Trauma.

A/N ── Honestly, I didn't plan on making a continuation of that headcanon, but since you asked (and your requests are sacred to me), here it is! Shoutout to @animequeen4 for the inspiration too!

When you grow up as the child of one of the most notorious supervillains in Gotham, things get a bit complicated. Harley knew this since you entered school, and especially since she separated from the Joker. She had prepared for everything: to protect you from clowns, snakes, and even snakes disguised as clowns. But what she didn't see coming, what truly drove her crazy, was the biggest challenge of all: your adolescence.

Harley noticed it almost immediately. At first, it was small things. Like how you no longer wanted to listen to the music she played at full volume in the lair. Instead, you started listening to your own songs, the ones she described as "unbearable noise." Then came the decoration of your room, which went from posters of heroes and villains to something "weird," according to Harley. “Since when do you like bats so much?” she would say with an eyebrow raised. But what broke her heart the most was when you stopped letting her dress you. She got frustrated every time she tried to put something on you that she thought looked great, and you would just say, "No, mom, I don't like that anymore."

But the worst, the worst of all, was when you entered high school. You made friends. Friends whose names Harley didn't even know. Horrible! For someone like her, who was used to knowing all the details of your life, that was the worst that could happen. And on top of that, you no longer asked for permission to do things! The worst part was that she had raised you "well" (according to her criteria), so she didn't understand how you ended up at the police station several times for vandalism and disturbances.

"I raised you better than this!" she would shout, completely indignant, while signing the papers to get you out of another detention. Inside, she knew you were going through that rebellious phase, but that didn't make it any easier to cope.

One day, Harley stood at the door of your room, frustrated because you didn't even ask her for help with your math problems anymore. She stared at you, her hands on her hips, and exclaimed, “Look, little birdie, I get you! I know you're growing up and all that, but can you please stop doing it so fast? You're slipping through my fingers!”

It was a mix of desperation and tenderness. Harley wasn't ready to see you grow up. She knew you were becoming more independent, but in her heart, you would always be her little one. And even though she got frustrated with all these changes, with every new friend or every time you snuck out to go to a party, deep down she just wanted to make sure you were okay.

Puberty was a roller coaster, and Harley was starting to realize that nothing in her villain life had prepared her to deal with it. The first thing she noticed was that you no longer wanted to go out with her for taco Fridays with the girls. Those days when they went shopping, wore neon clothes, and had laughs while window shopping stopped being your thing. Harley watched you from the doorframe, taco in hand, saying, “What happened to my buddy? Where's the kid who loved to eat until stuffed full of carnitas?”

Sometimes, Harley tried not to take it to heart, but it was hard. She crumbled a little every time you locked yourself in your room instead of watching her roll around on the sofas with the Birds of Prey or with the Sirens, planning their next crazy scheme. It was then that she realized she needed help. So, as a good mother (or as close as she could get), she turned to the only person who could understand her frustration... Catwoman.

But the chat with Selina wasn’t exactly helpful. “Harley, sweetheart, I don’t mix with kids. I don’t know what you want me to tell you, mine has four legs and purrs,” Selina said, taking a sip of her martini while checking out a new leather whip. It was a "thanks, but no thanks," and Harley left with more questions than answers.

Next stop: Ivy. Harley had high hopes that Ivy, with her serenity and green wisdom, would give her the key to understanding you better. But Ivy just shrugged and said, “Plants grow, Harley. Just like kids. You can't stop the natural process.” Harley frowned. “And what do I do when they doesn’t want to tell me who he's with all day?” Ivy, very zen, replied, “You could always... spy ” It wasn't exactly the help she was looking for.

After exhausting her resources with the girls, Harley did the unthinkable: she turned to Batman. Yes, Batman! In a conversation that turned out to be as awkward as it was effective, the Dark Knight explained to her what he had learned from raising his multiple Robins: “It's part of growing up. You just have to be there, but give them space. You can't control everything.”

Harley, of course, took it with her usual dramatism: “Give them space!? But they doesn’t even want to go for tacos anymore!?” It was as if the world had turned upside down.

Meanwhile, at school, things weren’t going smoothly either. Your new “friends” were... questionable. People that Harley, if she had known, would have kicked out. But, for your luck (or misfortune), those friends didn’t last long. In the end, the problems they brought with them distanced you from them, and unexpectedly, you found yourself spending more time with Damian again. Harley, of course, had no idea about this. To her, Damian was just the rude boy you sometimes talked to.

There was always something about him that intrigued you, and despite his constant grumbling and "I don't care" attitude, you managed to see beyond that. Between talks about anything (and often about nothing), Damian became someone important to you. Harley had no idea about this mini romance, because if she did, she would probably already be plotting a plan to scare the Wayne boy. “If you think he’s cute, go for it,” she had once said with a mischievous wink. And although she didn't think you would take it seriously, here you were, emotionally entangled with Batman’s son, even though at that time you didn't know he was Batman's son.

It all started with an idea that, in retrospect, wasn’t the best: throwing paint cans at Robin. In your defense, it sounded like a funny prank at the moment. What you didn't calculate was that Robin, being Damian Wayne, wasn’t exactly easy to evade. You ran as if your life depended on it, covering almost twenty kilometers, and the most frustrating part was that he wasn’t even sweating. Every time you turned to see if you had lost him, there he was, impeccable, with that unfriendly look and his expression of "When I catch you, say goodbye to your legs."

When he finally threw you to the ground, ready to give you the lesson of your life, you looked at him more closely. That perfectly styled hair, that look of a thousand deaths, and the sarcasm in every phrase... "Damian?!" you shouted, more out of disbelief than fear. Because, of course, it turns out your boyfriend wasn’t just a rude jerk, but also the damn Robin. The pieces finally fell into place, and you didn’t know whether to laugh or feel betrayed. In the end, you did both.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he reprimanded you with that authoritative voice he usually reserved for criminals and his family. "Throwing paint? Seriously?"

The funny thing is that, even though you were completely exhausted from the chase, your brain didn’t stop working. So instead of apologizing like a normal person, you shrugged and said, "At least it wasn't green paint. That would have been offensive." He didn’t find it so funny.

From that moment on, the romantic dates became something much more... practical. Damian decided that if you were going to get into trouble, at least you should know how to defend yourself, so starry night strolls turned into intense self-defense training sessions. "Nothing says 'I love you' like a well-placed punch," you thought every time Damian corrected your stance. And although at first you considered it the least romantic of gestures, there was something sweet about how he insisted on keeping you safe.

Of course, these "dates" weren’t just training. Eventually, you met Jon Kent, the super-sweet boy who contrasted so much with Damian's serious personality. The trio you formed was a disaster waiting to happen, yet somehow it worked. Between secret missions, night escapades, and 'lots of fun,' the three of you became inseparable. But it was all super secret, because if Batman found out, well, the reprimand wouldn’t be exactly gentle. And Harley... well, don’t even think about what Harley would say if she found out.

But Harley, being Harley, didn’t take long to notice the changes. For her, it was alarming to see how her kid, her little birdie, was starting to come home late through the window, with two colors in his hair that reminded her a bit of her own lifestyle, and some bruises that you, of course, tried to hide. "Did you fall down the stairs again? Seriously?" she would ask skeptically while helping you tend to your wounds.

Her biggest fear wasn’t that you would get into minor trouble, but that he would have come back. Harley began to suspect that the Joker had found you, and that kept her in a constant state of alert. She watched you more closely, trying not to show it, but it was obvious. Nights with Damian always seemed to fly by. Between training, talks, and that connection you both shared, the hours slipped away without either of you noticing. That was how it happened that one particular night, after a long and exhausting session, he decided to walk you home. Not that you needed it, you were perfectly capable of getting home on your own (or so you said), but Damian liked to make sure you got home safely. Plus, it was an excuse to spend more time together.

It was already four in the morning, and you were ready to say goodbye with a kiss when suddenly, three giant hyenas sprang out from under your bed, and Harley, in full ninja mode, dropped from the ceiling with a baseball bat in hand. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?!"

You had to close the window, leaving Damian outside, to prevent your mom and the hyenas from getting to the "mom, chill," you tried to calm her, putting yourself between them. "It's not what it looks like."

"Oh no! It looks like you're turning into a mini-Harley with a boyfriend and everything, and I'm not going to sit back and watch how they break your heart like that stupid clown broke mine!"

But you managed to slow her down, and with Harley calmed down (more or less), the tension of the moment seemed to dissolve, but she didn’t stop there. The next morning, she showed up at the Batcave (Only God knows how she found the Batcave), furious, and ready to confront Batman for allowing his son to "seduce" her little birdie. "What kind of father lets his son stay out late with my kid?! This is unacceptable!"

Bruce, who was busy with his screens, barely looked up. He listened to Harley’s furious monologue while maintaining his typical calm posture, nodding from time to time. When Harley finished, he just raised his thumb calmly, as if giving his approval. "Damian has good taste," was all he said.

"That doesn’t help me, Bats!" Harley exclaimed, frustrated. But Bruce, in his minimalist style, simply added, "You... should spend more time with your kid, Harley. Don’t worry so much. And if you need help, just let me know."

Harley was left speechless. It wasn’t the response she expected, but deep down, she knew Batman was right. She sighed and, resigned, left without more than a warning for Bruce: "Just because you told me that doesn’t mean I won’t hit you with my bat if things go wrong."

But the truth is that as Harley made her way home, she reflected a little. You were growing up, and although she didn’t like it, it was part of life. You couldn’t be her little one forever, and while the fear of losing you was always present, she knew she had to trust you. After all, she had raised you well (in her own way), and now she could only let you fly a little, like that little bird she often mentioned.

Back at home, she found you lying on the couch, still with some paint in your hair from the prank on Damian. Harley watched you for a while, noticing how much you had grown. Not just in height, but in attitude. The way you had started to move through the world, making your own decisions, forming relationships outside the little universe she had built for you. And that, even though she sometimes denied it, hurt her a little. She sat on the edge of the couch, sighing as she stroked your messy hair.

Harley noticed it before anyone. First, you stopped getting excited about taco Fridays with the girls or going out to dye your hair neon. Then, it was the uncomfortable silence when you no longer sought her advice for anything. You had become more independent, but Harley only saw you drifting away.

Harley sighed and looked at you with a mix of nostalgia and worry. “You’re growing up... and even though I hate it, I know I can’t stop it. I just want you to know that you will always be my little birdie. No matter how big you get, you will always have a place with me.”

You stayed silent, noticing how difficult it was for her to say it. Harley had been many things, but she had never stopped being your mother. You smiled at her and nodded, feeling a familiar warmth in your chest. "I love you too, mom. I promise I’m not drifting away, I’m just... growing."

Harley gave you a tight hug, and in that moment, you knew that even though everything might change, you would always find that common ground, whether it was stealing marshmallows or just sharing a night under the stars. "Puberty sucks," Harley joked, and for the first time in a long time, you both laughed together.

As the hug lingered, you felt how the outside world faded away, leaving only Harley and you in a bubble of safety and love. "I’ll be here, always ready for you, even if sometimes I’m a little... crazy,” she replied with a soft laugh. “But you know that’s what makes everything more fun, right?”

You nodded, and inside, the worry you had felt about drifting away from her faded. There was comfort in knowing that even though the road ahead might be complicated and full of challenges, you had a beacon lighting your way. A mother who, with her craziness and unconditional love, would always guide you home.

"Let’s promise to do more things together, then," you said with determination. "No matter if it’s stealing candy or painting our nails bright colors. There will always be time for that."

"Deal," said Harley, raising her pinky as if sealing a pact. You smiled and linked it with yours. The connection you shared was stronger than any challenge you could face.

"And when it’s time to face the world, I’ll be your ally," she added, a spark of determination shining in her eyes. "Because we will be a team, always."

After that, everything changed, but for the better. Learning to divide your time between everything you loved wasn’t easy, but you knew you would succeed. After all, you had the strongest support: that of your strange yet endearing family, that of your partner, and above all, that of the best mother you could have ever dreamed of.

A/N ─── Thank you so much for reading! If you'd like to request anything, don't hesitate to ask. I read all of your comments and questions!

Take a Bath!

[synthetickitsune]

Jeonghan (SVT) | Heat fluff | 0.8k | gn!reader A/N: straight up not having a good time wtf are these temperatures

Whoever said that it’s easier to bear hardships when you’re sharing them with someone is a liar. 

The unnatural heat is already torturous to handle. You’re melting, most likely dehydrated with how much you sweat, and sleeping is impossible when it feels like you’re boiling alive. You’re grumpy, tired, and probably hungry too. Not like you have any appetite in this weather.

Not a good time, made worse by none other than your boyfriend.

Jeonghan huffs and groans in a way that makes it sound more like a whine. He’s thrown the blankets off the bed, he’d remove the pillows too if you didn’t promptly pull them to your side of the bed. He keeps squirming, tossing and turning. Honestly if you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s on his deathbed writhing in agony instead of trying to nap.

“Hannie, just settle down,” you sigh, then you do it again when your boyfriend turns into a starfish and shoos you to the very edge of the bed.

“I can’t sleep at all,” he complains, his bleary eyes looking at you like you have a solution, “I can’t keep my eyes closed, I just keep thinking.”

You run a hand through his sweaty hair. Sleep usually came easily to him. When it doesn’t, well, he can always cuddle up to you for distraction. Unfortunately, the conditions today do not allow for prolonged physical contact.

“I’m sorry, maybe some music would help? ASMR?” you suggest, although you’re not hopeful. He shakes his head with a resigned - and dramatic - huff.

“Maybe,” he licks his lips, trailing off for a second before looking at you again, “Maybe if I was alone?”

His eyes seem dull in the dim light of the room, pleading and so so tired. It’s not the first time and it’s not gonna be the last time he asked you to leave the bedroom without saying it outright. 

“Of course, honey,” you hum, quickly pecking his forehead, “I’ll be around if you need me.”

“I always need you,” he murmurs.

You give up on sleep entirely after fifteen minutes of the same, if not worse, disgusting sleepless uncomfortableness in the spare bedroom and accept that nothing will help you now. Maybe if you went out for a walk to get some ice cream the apartment would feel less like an oven in comparison.

So that’s what you do. You can’t say it really helped, though. 

The apartment is still too hot, and now too quiet as well, so you hope Jeonghan at least is getting the rest he deserves.

You walk into the kitchen and are just putting the ice cream into the freezer, hoping to enjoy it when he wakes up, when you get the scare of your life. You’re bent over, making space for the box when suddenly a weight drops down on your back and you scream.

You almost headbutt the culprit, backing yourself against the freezer and the fridge as Jeonghan looks at you just as caught off guard and with a pout on his face.

“What the fuck,” you breathe out, hand over your chest, “Do you want me to die?”

“Where did you go? You told me you’ll be here if I need you,” he grumbles right back at you.

“And did you need me?” you quirk a brow at him.

“Yes!” he insists, pursuing his lips more, “You weren’t there when I needed you to tell me you’re not mad that I kicked you out of the bedroom and aren’t leaving me.”

You roll your eyes. “You know I’m not.”

“What if I didn’t know today,” he closes the distance between you, only enough that he can rest his forehead on your shoulder without your bodies touching.

“Should I go get you some sleeping pills? You’re so out of it,” you tease, rubbing his back for a few seconds.

“No but you can tell me you got my favorite,” he motions towards the still open freezer and box of ice cream barely balanced on top of the open shelf.

“Of course I did,” you reassure him and he finally lets you finish the task, “Did you get any sleep?”

“No, I felt bad because the other bedroom gets the most sunlight,” he gives you a small smile, “And then you went out and I felt worse.”

You coo at your boyfriend. He pulls you close, hugging you just for a short few seconds in which you manage to kiss his cheek.

“You’re so silly, you know I don’t mind. And it’s not like any room is better or worse right now,” you shrug. He doesn’t seem too convinced but nods anyway.

The only thing you can do, as much as you both hate it, is wait. Wait for the ice cream to freeze again. Wait for the cooler temperatures of the night. Nothing is really entertaining when clothes stick to your body and you’re both tired. 

But at least you can brave this hand in hand. Maybe that’s what it means to handle misery better with company.

[smuttysweets]

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ ୨୧ ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Creampie ࣪ ˖ ⊹

🍰🍡🍨 ꒱ Katsuki Bakugou x Fem! Reader ꒱

꒱ smut, mdni, female reader, very sloppy kissing, fingiring, hair pulling, breeding kink

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

⟢ ( a/n : In this you replace Satou and your quirk is basically his but more powerful instead of just super strength )

⟢ You have always had a sweet tooth. Your family, ourselves family friends, and of course, Katsuki knew. So when your boyfriend offers to bake something with you, you immediately drag him to your kitchen.

⟢ “So, whatcha ‘anna make?” Katsuki ask as he watches you get the needed ingredients and utensils. I was kinda thinking of making a pie but I don’t really know what kind of pie I want to make!” You open a specific drawer and pull out a huge baking and cooking book.

⟢ “So many to choose from!” Katsuki admires you as you flip to a page labeled “pies”. Your finger scrolls over the different types of pies on the page. “How about a cream pie! Maybe? Maybe not?” Bakugou zones out. cream pie. cream pie? Oh! creampie! Katsuki slightly blushes but it’s unnoticeable.

⟢ “Katsu-“ “Hmph.. A cream pie is fine.” He cuts you off as he turns to the refrigerator now getting specific ingredients for the pie. You didn’t exactly have the cleanest mind so hearing him say ‘cream pie’ is kinda funny.

⟢ “Yay! Okay! I wanted to make this specific type of cream pie! I was kinda thinking off making something with chocolate, cause I know you like chocolate!..” You kinda shy away when you say that. He grins and slightly blushes. But it disappears just as fast as it came. “Alright, let me see that cook book.”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈┈ MINORS DNI ┈┈┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

- time goes by !

⟢ You slowly place the pie into the oven with a sigh. “Well now we just have to wait!” Bakugou watches you, quietly, as you put all the ingredients away and put all the dirty dishes in the sink. “Hm! Is something wrong Baku?” He isn’t even looking at you. His face, still and emotionless.

⟢ “Katsuki-“ you yelp as he unexpectedly grips your waist and pulls you close to him. “I know the cream pie is in the oven but.. I wanna make a creampie out of you..” He says calmly in your ear. From your neck to your forehead you feel your body start to warm up as you blush harder and harder in the span of seconds. “K-Katsuki! I—“ he cuts you off with a passionate kiss. His hand on the back of your head, pulling you into him.

⟢ You close your eyes slowly in plea. You kiss harder as he does the same. Your tongues enter each others mouth. Bakugou can still taste the sweet access of the chocolaty used ingredients. Bakugou gets rougher with his movements, pushing you onto the counter behind you. You both moan as spit starts to slowly fall down both of your chins.

⟢ Your lips and Katsuki’s depart with a lustfull pop, a string of saliva still keeping your lips connected in a way. “Hands. On the counter. Now..” His demanding tone made between your legs even hotter. You immediately move to his wanted position. As fastest as you moved he moves his thick fingers to your clothed clit as his free hand lifts up your skirt.

⟢ “Lets start with some foreplay baby..” You let out a soft moan due too his movement, causing Katsuki’s cock to twitch in his pants. As soon as he lays your skirt in a position so it stays up, he lets his big erection free with a groan. He pulls your panties to the side and starts rubbing your clit. “Ba-Baku! Pl—“ “Thats not my name..” You breath hitched as you hears his surprisingly seductive voice— you and katsuki haven’t had much sexy time so this is your first time hearing it — “What’s my name?” He teases a finger to your entrance making you squirm and moan. “K-Katsuki! Please! Please put your fingers inside of me!” You her him slightly chuckle. “Good girl.” He slides in two of his thick fingers into you which make your legs shake uncontrollably. You’ve never felt something like this before.

⟢ “Ahh!~ Katsuki! Mmmh~” He forces them in and out roughly. Katsuki sticks out his tongue and pants like a dog. His hot breath hitting your pussy every time he exhales. You feel a quick sharp pain on your already shaking thigh as Katsuki slaps your left thigh with his free hand. “Ah!! Katsuu..” you whine l. “Your legs are shaking so much.. It’s so good to know that I’m the one making you feel good right now..” You look back at your hot boyfriend. Katsuki is such a mess under you. You see how hard his cock is and you clench around his fingers, forcing his movements to slow down.

⟢ “Fuck.. you’re clenching so hard around me!—“ “Katsuki!” Bakugou looks up at you wide eye. He sees your flushed and embarrassed face with a quivering bottom lip. “May you please! Put your cock inside of me..” You see his cock twitch in your peripheral vision. He immediately stands up, grabs his cock with one hand and grabs a handful of your (H/C) hair and forces you onto the tip of his cock, making you squeal and moan. “You ready for me, doll face?”— he knows how much you love ‘doll face’— “Y-yes.. I’m ready!” Katsuki, with a grin. grips your waist and pulls you onto him, inserting his cock in the process with a groan. “F—fuck! A-all the way— inside—“ You’ve never ever heard him.. Shit.. you’ve never heard your self sound like this..

⟢ He exits almost all the way and slams back into your cunt with a raspy moan. He starts doing this repeatedly, hitting your g spot every time he enters your cunt. At this point he’s pushing your head into the counter as he scrambles your thoughts away. “K-Kah! Katsukii!~” Your tongue sticks out in pleasure. “You feel so good— beneath me.. Fuckk.. I can’t wait to cum inside of you!~” You feel him let go of your hair and makes his way down to your clit. “Ahh! Katsuki!” you yelp. “I want you.. to cum with me…” He whispers as he rest his head on your shoulder. His hot breath hitting your ear. He starts rubbing your clit viciously making you squeal and moan. “Katsukii! I’m getting so closeee~” “Then cum on one.. Five.. Four… Th-three..” You start to feel him twitch as he gets closer and closer.

⟢ “Twoo.. One! Fuck! Cum! Cum! Cum! Pl-pleasee! Cum with me!~” You feel him fill up your cunt with his warm milk. It fills you to the brim. Making your eyes roll back, babbling nonsense. “Kah! Kah..suki..” “Fuck.. I didn’t mean to break you.” He stands up straight with a grin. Sliding out of your quivering pussy, admiring the mess he made out of you. “You look so good..” ring! “The pie must be done. Here.” He picks you up and sits you onto the counter. You pussy hanging off of the counter clenching everything inside. “Sit here while I take out the pie..” You watch him zip up his pants and get hold of the oven mittens. You, still panting and flushed, blink multiple times so you don’t loose consciousness due to the pleasure you were feeling. He takes out the pie and removed the arm mittens. “Alright. Lets go get you cleaned up.” You yelp as he picks you up and put you over his shoulder. You giggle. “Katsukii~”

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷꒦︶︶︶︶‧₊˚⊹

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

My Boss's Son: Part II

A tale of tea, poetry, and stolen moments, where Y/N and Harry turn chance encounters into a love story full of wit, warmth, and a dash of irresistible charm.

Content Warning: A little smutty towards the ending but it's brief. Mentions of alcohol.

Word Count: 16,483

Part one below!

New Year’s Eve had arrived, and instead of the usual glitz and glamour of parties and countdowns, Harry had suggested something far more low-key. When he texted that morning confirming if I’d still be up for baking cookies together, I couldn’t help but laugh at how committed to the idea he was—and immediately say yes.

By the time he knocked on my door that evening, I’d already set up the kitchen with bowls, ingredients, and a playlist of upbeat songs to match the festive mood. When I opened the door, there he was, standing in a coat and scarf, holding a bag of chocolate chips in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.

“Thought I’d come prepared,” he said, grinning as he held them up. “Cookies and a bit of New Year’s spirit.”

“You’re too good at this,” I teased, stepping aside to let him in. “Come on, the kitchen’s ready.”

Harry shed his coat and scarf, revealing a casual sweater with the sleeves pushed up, tattoos visible on his forearms. He set the wine and chocolate chips on the counter, rolling his sleeves up further with a playful determination. “Right, where do we start?”

I laughed, handing him an apron. “First, you put this on. We don’t need flour all over you.”

“Yes, chef,” he joked, tying it around his waist. He looked delicious.

We fell into an easy rhythm, mixing dough, sneaking bits of batter, and occasionally smearing flour on each other’s faces when the other wasn’t looking. Harry’s laugh filled the room as I tried to dodge his attempts at retaliation, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so carefree.

“You’re dangerous with that spoon,” I said, pointing at him as he made a show of scooping out another bite of dough.

“Dangerously charming, maybe,” he quipped, winking as he popped the spoon into his mouth.

“ And modest, too,” I teased, rolling my eyes as I placed the first tray of cookies in the oven.

As the cookies baked, we settled on the couch with the wine, the soft glow of fairy lights I’d strung up for the holidays casting a cozy light across the room. Harry stretched out beside me, holding his glass loosely as he looked over.

“You know,” he said, his voice quieter now, “this is a pretty great way to spend New Year’s.”

I smiled, tucking my legs under me. “It’s definitely different, but I like it. No crowds, no noise—just cookies and wine.”

“And me,” he added, his grin soft but teasing.

“And you,” I agreed, meeting his gaze.

The timer beeped, breaking the moment, and we both laughed as I jumped up to rescue the cookies. Harry followed me to the kitchen, leaning against the counter as I pulled the tray from the oven.

“These look perfect,” I said proudly, setting the tray down to cool.

“All you,” he said, watching me with a smile. “I’m just here for moral support and quality control.”

Grabbing a cookie that was still warm enough to be gooey, he took a bite, letting out a low hum of approval. “Okay, these are incredible. You’ve ruined all other cookies for me.”

I laughed, grabbing one for myself. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

As we ate, the sound of fireworks outside signaled that midnight was near. Harry glanced at me, setting his cookie down. “You know, I think this might be my favorite New Year’s yet.”

“Why’s that?” I asked, my heart racing a little as he stepped closer.

“Because it’s with you,” he said simply, his gaze steady.

Before I could respond, he leaned in, his lips brushing mine softly at first, then deepening into a kiss that felt as warm and sweet as the cookies we’d just baked. When we pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, and his smile widened.

As the timer for the cookies faded into the background, I glanced at the clock on the wall. It was almost midnight. I turned to Harry, who was still leaning against the counter, finishing the last of his cookie.

“It’s almost time,” I said softly, nodding toward the balcony. “Do you want to watch the fireworks?”

He smiled, picking up his glass of wine and gesturing for me to lead the way. “Absolutely. Let’s see what this city’s got.”

We stepped out onto the small balcony, the cool night air brushing against our skin as we took in the view. Snowflakes still  lingered on the railings, and the faint sound of music and chatter carried from nearby streets. From here, we could hear the excitement building as people prepared to welcome the new year.

Harry stood close beside me, his arm brushing against mine as he looked out over the city lights. He sipped his wine, the quiet between us feeling natural, like we’d known each other forever.

The countdown started in the distance, voices shouting numbers as they echoed through the crisp night air.

“Ten… nine… eight…”

Harry glanced down at me, his expression soft and thoughtful. “This has been a pretty great night, hasn’t it?”

“Seven… six…”

“It really has,” I said, smiling up at him. “I’m glad you came over.”

“Five… four…”

“So am I,” he murmured, setting his glass down on the railing and stepping closer.

“Three… two…”

Before the final number, Harry slid his arm around my waist, pulling me gently against him. The moment the city erupted with cheers and the sky lit up with fireworks, he leaned down and kissed me.

The world seemed to fade away as his lips met mine, soft yet firm, with a sense of certainty that made my heart race. The warmth of his touch, the faint taste of wine, the distant crackle of fireworks—it all blended into a perfect moment.

When we finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against mine, and his grin was undeniable.

“Happy New Year, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and full of something deeper than just the words.

“Happy New Year, Harry,” I whispered back, feeling the promise of something new and wonderful as his arms stayed wrapped around me, the fireworks still lighting up the sky.

As the fireworks crackled in the sky and the sound of cheers faded into the background, I found myself still lost in the lingering warmth of Harry’s kiss. My heart was racing, my hands still resting lightly on his chest as he pulled back just enough to look at me.

But I wasn’t ready for the moment to end.

Without overthinking, I reached up and pulled him back to me, pressing my lips to his again. This kiss was deeper, more confident, and filled with all the emotions I hadn’t said aloud. Harry responded instantly, his hands tightening around my waist as he leaned into me, his breath mingling with mine.

When we finally broke apart again, his lips curved into a playful grin. “You really like fireworks, huh?” he teased, his voice low and full of humor.

“Something like that,” I said, laughing softly, still catching my breath.

His grin widened, and before I could say another word, he slid his arms around my legs and back, effortlessly lifting me off the ground. A small gasp escaped me as he carried me across the balcony threshold and back into the warmth of the flat.

“Harry!” I exclaimed, laughing as I looped my arms around his neck. “What are you doing?”

“Carrying you to safety,” he said dramatically, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s cold out there. Can’t have you freezing on me.”

I laughed harder, my head resting against his shoulder as he set me gently down near the couch. The cozy glow of the room wrapped around us, the scent of cookies still lingering in the air. He stood close, his hands not leaving my waist, his gaze steady and warm.

As we stood there, the warmth of the moment wrapping around us like a blanket, a thought crept into my mind, one I couldn’t quite shake. I didn’t want to ruin the mood, but curiosity tugged at me.

“Harry,” I said softly, looking up at him, “can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” he replied, his tone gentle, his thumb brushing lightly against my waist. “What’s on your mind?”

I hesitated for a moment, not wanting to dampen the happiness of the evening. “When do you have to leave for America again?”

His smile faltered just slightly, but he didn’t look away. “In a week,” he said, his voice quiet but steady. “We’re wrapping up some things for the album. I’ll probably be gone for a while.”

The weight of his answer settled between us, and I felt my chest tighten. A week. Just when it felt like things were beginning to bloom between us, he’d be gone again. I tried to hide the flicker of sadness that crossed my face, but Harry noticed.

“Hey,” he said, his hand moving to cup my cheek, his voice softening. “I’ll be back. This isn’t me disappearing.”

“I know,” I said quickly, managing a small smile. “I just… I wish we had more time before you leave for so long.”

“So do I,” he admitted, his forehead resting against mine. “But we’ve got a week. And I plan on making the most of it—with you.”

His words, full of sincerity, eased the ache in my chest just a little. I nodded, leaning into his touch. “Okay,” I whispered. “A week. Let’s make it count.”

Harry smiled then, his hand slipping back to my waist. “Starting with this,” he said, pulling me closer and kissing me again, as if to remind me that, for now, he was still here—and that was what mattered most.

As we stood close, the warmth of Harry’s presence easing the weight of the conversation, he hesitated for a moment, as if he was debating whether to say something. Finally, he let out a small breath, his thumb still tracing gentle circles against my waist.

“There’s something I didn’t mention,” he said softly, his eyes searching mine. “I mean, yeah, I’ll be heading to America for work, but… I’ve been planning on spending a lot more time here.”

My brows furrowed slightly. “Here? In England?”

He nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Yeah. I actually bought a place not too far from Mum’s. A little house in a quiet suburb, just a few miles down the road.”

Surprise flickered across my face as his words sunk in. “Wait—you bought a house? Here? I thought you loved the city.”

“I do,” he said, his smile softening. “But I needed somewhere a bit quieter. Somewhere that feels more… grounded. And being close to Mum just made sense. It’s not far from here, actually.”

I blinked, trying to process the unexpected news. “So, you’re planning on staying in England more?”

“That’s the idea,” he said, watching me carefully. “The touring and traveling won’t stop completely, but… yeah. I want to be here. For her. And maybe for someone else too.”

My heart fluttered at his words, and I couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto my face. “You really mean it?”

He nodded, his grin widening. “I wouldn’t joke about something like this. Besides,” he added, his tone lightening, “you didn’t think I’d just leave you with the title of Best Cookie Maker in England without trying to claim it back, did you?”

I laughed, the heaviness in my chest lifting. “Good luck with that. You’ve got a long way to go.”

Harry chuckled, leaning in to kiss me lightly. “Challenge accepted. But in the meantime, I thought you might like knowing I’m sticking around a bit more.”

“I like it a lot,” I admitted, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the cozy flat or the wine. “More than you know.”

“Good,” he said simply, his arms tightening around me as if to say he wasn’t going anywhere. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could truly believe it.

The night ended quietly, with Harry deciding to head back to his mum’s house to stay the night. He kissed me goodnight at the door, lingering just a moment longer than usual, his hand brushing my cheek before he finally walked away. I watched him leave, the warmth of the evening still humming in my chest, before closing the door and heading to bed. Tomorrow would be back to reality, with work waiting for me in the morning.

When my alarm buzzed, I groaned softly, pulling myself from the warmth of my bed and dragging myself into the shower. As the water woke me up, my thoughts drifted to Harry, and I smiled, the events of the night before playing on a loop in my mind. But as much as I wanted to bask in the memory, I had to focus. Anne would be expecting me soon.

I slipped into a crisp button-up shirt and a pair of tailored slacks, checking my reflection in the mirror before tying my hair back neatly. Professional, but comfortable. Grabbing my bag and keys, I made my way out the door.

The morning was cold, a light frost covering the ground, but the clear blue sky promised a pleasant day ahead. The drive to Anne’s was peaceful, the roads quiet as I sipped my coffee and listened to the soft hum of the radio. By the time I pulled into her driveway, the world was beginning to stir.

Anne’s charming cottage looked as inviting as ever, the smoke curling from the chimney hinting at a warm fire inside. I grabbed my bag and headed to the door, knocking lightly before stepping inside.

“Good morning, Anne!” I called out, the familiar scent of lavender and freshly brewed tea greeting me.

Anne appeared from the kitchen, her face lighting up as she saw me. “Good morning, love! Right on time, as always.”

I smiled, hanging my coat by the door. “I try. What’s on the agenda today?”

“Oh, the usual chaos,” she said with a wink, gesturing for me to follow her into the kitchen. “But first, let me make you some tea. Can’t have you working without proper sustenance.”

As I settled at the kitchen table, Anne placed a steaming cup of tea in front of me, her warm smile making me feel instantly at ease.

“Thank you,” I said, taking a sip. “It’s quiet this morning.”

Anne chuckled as she sat across from me. “It is. Harry’s out on a quick run to grab some pastries. Figured we’d need something sweet to go with the tea.”

I smiled, imagining him bundled up against the cold, running around town with his usual effortless charm. “That sounds perfect.”

Anne leaned back in her chair, cradling her own cup of tea. “We don’t have too much to do today, thankfully. Most places are closed for the holiday, so I thought we’d keep it light. Just a few notes to tidy up.”

“That works for me,” I said, grateful for the slower pace.

Anne watched me for a moment, her expression soft but tinged with a hint of mischief. “You know,” she began, her tone casual, “I have to say, my plan seems to be coming along quite nicely.”

I blinked, setting my cup down. “Plan?”

She grinned, clearly enjoying my confusion. “To get you and Harry together, of course.”

I froze, a flush creeping up my cheeks. “Anne!” I exclaimed, laughing nervously. “You didn’t!”

“Oh, I absolutely did,” she said, completely unapologetic. “Do you think it’s a coincidence he just happened to show up at my Christmas party? Or that I let slip how much you love baking?”

I stared at her, equal parts flattered and mortified. “You’ve been plotting this?”

“Plotting is a strong word,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Let’s call it gentle nudging. I saw how he lit up whenever I mentioned you, and, well, it’s no secret how highly I think of you. It seemed worth a little nudge, don’t you think?”

I couldn’t help but smile, her words filling me with a warmth that pushed away my embarrassment. “Anne, you’re unbelievable.”

“Maybe,” she said with a wink, “but you’re smiling, which means I’m not entirely wrong.”

I shook my head, laughing softly. “You’re lucky I adore you.”

“Oh, I know,” she said, grinning. “And so does Harry, apparently. You two are good for each other, Y/N. That’s all I wanted to see.”

Her words lingered in the air, and I couldn’t deny the truth in them. Before I could respond, the front door opened, and Harry’s voice called out, “Mum, I’m back! And I brought enough pastries to feed an army!”

Anne leaned in conspiratorially, her grin widening. “See? My plan practically runs itself.”

I laughed, shaking my head as Harry stepped into the kitchen, his arms full of boxes and a familiar smile lighting up his face. Anne gave me a knowing look.

As Harry walked into the kitchen, balancing a box of pastries in one hand and a coffee cup in the other, his eyes landed on me. His hair was slightly tousled, his cheeks still faintly pink from the cold, and he had the soft, slightly groggy look of someone who hadn’t fully shaken off sleep.

“Y/N,” he said, a small grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “You’re here earlier than I thought you’d be.”

I swallowed, my heart pounding in my chest as I took him in. Even tired, or maybe because he was still a bit sleepy, he looked effortlessly attractive. His sweater hung just right, and the way he ran a hand through his hair made it impossible to look away.

“Good morning, Harry,” I managed, willing my voice to stay steady. “Anne said we’d be taking it easy today, so I figured I’d come in early and get started.”

He set the box of pastries on the counter, his grin widening as he leaned against the edge. “You’re always so diligent. Mum’s lucky to have you.”

Anne, who was busy organizing the tea cabinet, smirked but didn’t say anything, though I could see the amused glint in her eyes. I ignored it, focusing instead on Harry, who was still watching me with that familiar, disarming gaze.

“And I see you’ve already done the hard work,” I teased, nodding toward the pastries.

He chuckled, his voice still tinged with sleep. “What can I say? I aim to impress. Picked these up from that bakery you mentioned last week.”

My heart fluttered at the thought that he’d remembered something so small, but I forced myself to keep it cool. “Well, you’ve succeeded. Those are my favorite.”

“Good,” he said, his grin softening as his eyes lingered on mine. For a moment, the noise of the kitchen—the clinking cups, Anne humming softly—faded away, leaving just us.

“Harry,” Anne’s voice broke through, light and teasing, “don’t just stand there staring. Grab the plates, would you?”

He laughed, shaking his head but obediently moving to grab plates from the cupboard. As he passed by me, his hand brushed lightly against my arm—a small, fleeting touch that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Glad you’re here,” he said softly, his voice just loud enough for me to hear, before turning back to the counter.

I watched him, my chest tightening and my heart racing, and realized that no matter how calm I tried to appear, Harry had a way of making everything else fade into the background.

Anne and I worked through everything on the agenda at a leisurely pace, the day feeling light and easy. Once we’d finished, she leaned back in her chair with a satisfied smile.

“Well, that’s everything,” she said, setting her notepad aside. “Not too bad, was it?”

“Not at all,” I replied, sipping the last of my tea. “Thanks for keeping it simple today.”

Anne grinned, her tone warm. “You’ve earned it, love. You know, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. No rush.”

I smiled, grateful for her kindness. “Thanks, Anne. I might stick around for a bit, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” she said, standing to tidy up the kitchen. “Harry’s here too, so you’ve got good company.”

As if on cue, the front door opened, and Harry stepped in, shaking snow off his coat and hair. His cheeks were flushed from the cold, and his boots left a trail of melted snow as he made his way to the living room.

“Hey,” he said, spotting me on the couch. “You’re still here.”

I smiled. “Anne said I could stay.”

“Good,” he said, plopping down beside me with a casual ease. “I wanted to show you something.”

“Oh?” I asked, curious.

He nodded, his grin widening as he stood and offered me his hand. “Come on. It’s better if you see it for yourself.”

I glanced at Anne, who waved me off with a knowing smile, then slipped my hand into Harry’s. His fingers were warm against mine as he led me to the back door.

Outside, the snowy garden stretched before us, the white blanket of snow untouched except for a few faint footprints. The air was crisp, and the soft glow of the late afternoon sun made the scene look like something out of a storybook.

Harry guided me down the stone path, his hand never leaving mine. “I noticed this earlier when I was outside,” he said, stopping near the edge of the garden. “Figured you’d appreciate it.”

He gestured toward a small clearing where the snow-covered trees framed a frozen pond. The surface reflected the soft light, and the whole scene looked almost magical.

“It’s beautiful,” I said, my breath visible in the cold air. “I didn’t know this was back here.”

Harry smiled, his gaze shifting from the scene to me. “Thought it might make your day a little better. Quiet, peaceful—just like you like.”

My chest tightened at his words, and I looked at him, the sincerity in his expression making my heart race. “You’re really good at this, you know,” I said softly.

“Good at what?” he asked, his grin teasing.

“Making me feel like the only person in the world,” I admitted, my cheeks warming despite the cold.

Harry’s smile softened, and he squeezed my hand gently. “That’s easy,” he said. “Because to me, you kind of are.”

For a moment, we stood there in the snowy garden, the world around us silent except for the soft crunch of snow beneath our feet. And as he leaned in, his breath warm against my cold skin, I felt like everything else disappeared.

As we stood in the snowy garden, a chill crept through the air, but before I could even shiver, Harry wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close. His warmth was immediate, and I instinctively leaned into him, grateful for the comfort.

“You looked like you were freezing,” he murmured, his voice soft against the quiet of the garden. “Can’t have that.”

I smiled faintly, my gaze drifting to the frozen pond before us. The way the snow-covered branches framed it, the delicate stillness of the ice, and the pale sunlight reflecting off its surface—it all felt like something out of a poem.

“A poem,” I said aloud, almost to myself.

Harry glanced down at me, his curiosity piqued. “What’s that?”

I hesitated, then tilted my head to look at him. “The cold always makes me think of poetry. I read one once that stuck with me.”

He smiled, his arm tightening slightly around my shoulder. “Go on, then. Let’s hear it.”

I turned my eyes back to the pond, letting the memory of the words rise to the surface. Slowly, I began to recite:

"The winter holds its breath tonight, A silver hush beneath pale light. The earth wears frost like fragile lace, A fleeting mask of quiet grace."

My voice softened as I continued, my breath visible in the crisp air.

"Yet in the cold, a warmth remains, A pulse that stirs through frozen veins. For even winter’s biting chill, Can’t silence hearts that whisper still."

I paused, my eyes fixed on the stillness of the pond, the words lingering in the quiet air. When I glanced up at Harry, his expression was soft, his gaze steady as he watched me.

“That was beautiful,” he said after a moment, his voice low and sincere. “Did you write that?”

I shook my head, smiling shyly. “No, it’s just one that stuck with me. I don’t even remember where I read it, but it always felt… comforting.”

“It suits you,” he said, his arm pulling me a little closer. “Soft, thoughtful, and quietly stunning.”

I laughed, rolling my eyes. “You’re just saying that because you like me.”

“Maybe,” he teased, his grin playful. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”

I leaned into him, letting his warmth and his words wrap around me. In that moment, with the snow falling softly around us and the garden stretching quietly before us, it felt like the world had paused just for us.

As the last of my words faded into the cold air, I turned to Harry, his arm still wrapped around me, his warmth cutting through the chill. Without a word, I leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his waist and resting my head against his chest. He didn’t hesitate, pulling me into a tight embrace, his hands resting firmly on my back as if he wanted to hold me there forever.

We stood like that for a moment, the snowy world around us silent, as if it was giving us this moment to ourselves. His heartbeat was steady under my ear, grounding and comforting.

Harry shifted slightly, pulling back just enough so he could look down at me. His green eyes were serious now, his usual playful smile replaced by something deeper, something vulnerable. His hands stayed on my waist, his touch warm and steady.

“Y/N,” he began softly, his voice almost a whisper, “I’ve been meaning to say this for a while. I don’t want there to be any doubt—about how I feel, about what this is between us.”

My heart began to race as I searched his gaze, my breath catching at the sincerity in his expression.

“I like you,” he continued, his voice gaining strength. “Not just in a casual way, not just as someone I want to spend time with when it’s convenient. I really like you. And I want you to be my girlfriend.”

His words hung in the air, warm and certain, as he studied me, waiting for my response.

“You want me to be your girlfriend?” I asked, a soft smile tugging at my lips, though my voice wavered slightly from the rush of emotions his confession brought.

“Yeah,” he said, his grip on my waist tightening slightly as if to emphasize his words. “I don’t want you to have to wonder where we stand, or if my feelings are real. They are. You’re the one I think about, the one I want to be with.”

A wave of warmth flooded through me, and I smiled up at him, my chest tightening in the best way possible. “I’d love to be your girlfriend, Harry.”

The relief and joy on his face were immediate, his grin spreading wide as he let out a soft laugh. He wrapped his arms around me again, hugging me tightly, and I felt his breath against my hair.

As Harry and I stood wrapped in each other's arms, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the gentle hush of falling snow and the warmth between us. Just as I was about to suggest heading back inside, I noticed a playful glint in Harry's eyes.

"What is it?" I asked, following his gaze.

He chuckled softly. "Seems we have an audience."

Turning around, I spotted Anne standing at the kitchen window, a steaming cup of tea cradled in her hands. The soft glow from inside illuminated her amused expression. When she caught our eyes, she didn't look away—instead, she grinned widely and gave us an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

I felt a rush of warmth flood my cheeks. "Oh my gosh," I murmured, half-embarrassed and half-amused. "How long has she been watching?"

Harry laughed, pulling me a little closer. "Knowing Mum, probably the whole time."

I buried my face briefly against his chest, laughing. "She's going to tease us endlessly, isn't she?"

"Most definitely," he said with a grin. "But that's part of her charm."

As Anne disappeared from the window, likely to give us a semblance of privacy—or perhaps to prepare her teasing remarks—Harry looked back at me, his eyes soft.

"Well," he said lightly, "at least we know we have her approval."

I smiled up at him. "Not that I ever doubted it. She's been rooting for us from the start."

He tilted his head, feigning surprise. "You think so?"

I raised an eyebrow playfully. "Oh, I know so. She practically admitted to orchestrating this whole thing."

He laughed, a genuine, joyful sound that made my heart swell. "Sounds like Mum."

Taking a deep breath, he squeezed my hand. "Come on, let's head back inside before we both turn into snowmen."

As we walked back toward the house, our footsteps crunching softly in the snow, I felt an overwhelming sense of contentment. Harry opened the back door for me, and we stepped into the warm embrace of the kitchen.

Anne was bustling about, pretending to be engrossed in organizing the tea cupboard. She glanced over her shoulder as we entered, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

"Enjoy your walk?" she asked innocently.

Harry smirked. "Caught us, did you?"

She turned, her eyes twinkling. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

I shook my head, laughing softly. "Your subtlety is unmatched, Anne."

She grinned unabashedly. "Well, I can't help it if my kitchen window happens to have the best view of the garden."

Harry rolled his eyes affectionately. "Right."

Anne stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on my arm. "In all seriousness, I'm so happy for you both."

"Thank you," I said, my voice sincere. "And thank you for... well, everything."

She waved a hand dismissively, but her eyes were warm. "Nonsense. I didn't do anything but give a little nudge here and there."

Harry glanced between us, feigning offense. "Wait a minute—are you telling me I've been set up?"

I laughed, nudging him lightly. "Looks like it."

Anne chuckled, patting his cheek. "Oh, hush. You needed the help."

He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. "Unbelievable."

"Now," Anne declared, moving back toward the kettle, "who's up for another cup of tea? I think this calls for a celebration."

I exchanged a glance with Harry, both of us smiling. "I'd love one," I said.

"Make it three," Harry added, pulling out a chair for me at the kitchen table.

As we settled in, the three of us chatting and laughing, I couldn't help but feel that everything had fallen perfectly into place. The warmth of the tea, the glow of the kitchen lights, and the easy banter made the moment feel cozy and right.

Anne looked over at us, her expression softening. "You know, it's been a long time since I've seen both of you so happy."

Harry reached over to squeeze my hand. "Well, I've got a good reason."

I smiled back at him, feeling a blush rise to my cheeks. "Me too."

Anne sighed contentedly. "This is exactly what I was hoping for."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Careful, Mum. Your matchmaking is showing."

She laughed. "Well, I can't take all the credit. You two did the hard part."

We spent the next hour sharing stories and making plans, the earlier embarrassment forgotten. As the afternoon light began to fade, Harry stood up.

"Actually, Mum, I was thinking of taking Y/N to see that new exhibit at the gallery tomorrow. If she's interested, of course."

I looked up, pleasantly surprised. "I'd love to."

Anne beamed. "That sounds wonderful. You two go and enjoy yourselves."

Harry offered his hand to help me up. "Great. It's a date, then."

As we prepared to leave, Anne pulled me into a warm hug. "Welcome to the family, dear, officially.."

I hugged her back, my heart full. "Thank you, Anne. For everything."

The week flew by faster than I wanted it to, and before I knew it, the day had come for Harry to leave for America. He texted that morning to say he’d be stopping by on his way to the airport, and while I was grateful for the chance to say goodbye, the thought of him leaving left a dull ache in my chest.

When the knock came, I opened the door to find Harry standing there, dressed casually in a hoodie and jacket, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping inside and setting his bag down near the door.

“Hey,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady as I closed the door behind him. “Ready for the trip?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” he said with a small laugh, though there was a heaviness to his tone. He reached for my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “I wanted to see you before I left.”

I nodded, my chest tightening as I squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you did.”

We moved to the couch, sitting close as he wrapped an arm around me. For a moment, we just sat there in silence, the weight of the impending goodbye hanging in the air. I tried to be strong, but as I glanced at his duffel bag and realized I wouldn’t see him for weeks—maybe longer—the tears started to well up in my eyes.

“Y/N,” Harry said softly, noticing immediately. He turned to face me, his hand brushing against my cheek. “Don’t cry, love. Please.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice breaking as I tried to hold back the tears. “I didn’t want to do this—I promised myself I wouldn’t—but I’m going to miss you so much.”

His face softened, and he pulled me into his arms, holding me tightly. “I’m going to miss you too,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “More than you know.”

I buried my face against his chest, letting a few tears escape as he ran his hand soothingly up and down my back. “I know you have to go,” I said quietly, “but it just… it feels so hard to say goodbye.”

“It’s not goodbye,” he said firmly, pulling back just enough to tilt my chin up so I was looking at him. “It’s just ‘see you later.’ I’ll call you every chance I get, and as soon as I’m back, the first thing I’m doing is coming straight to you.”

I nodded, trying to take comfort in his words, though the ache in my chest didn’t ease. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he said, leaning down to kiss me gently. The kiss was soft and lingering, as if he was trying to pour every unspoken word into it.

When we finally pulled apart, he rested his forehead against mine, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re so important to me, Y/N. Don’t ever forget that.”

I smiled through my tears, reaching up to brush a stray curl from his forehead. “And you’re important to me.”

The sound of his phone vibrating broke the moment, and he sighed, pulling it from his pocket. “That’s my Uber. I have to go.”

I nodded, standing with him as he grabbed his bag. At the door, he turned back one last time, his eyes locking with mine. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“I’ll be waiting,” I said softly, forcing a small smile.

He kissed me again, quick but full of warmth, before stepping out into the hallway. I watched him go, my heart heavy but hopeful, and as the door closed, I knew one thing for sure: no matter how far apart we were, Harry and I were in this together.

The weekend dragged on, each hour feeling heavier than the last. After Harry left, the silence in my apartment seemed louder, the once-comforting quiet now feeling hollow. I’d tried to distract myself—tidying up the kitchen, folding laundry, even putting on a movie—but nothing seemed to hold my attention for long.

Instead, I found myself moping around the apartment, replaying our goodbye in my head. His voice, his smile, the way he hugged me so tightly before he left—it all felt so vivid, like he was still here. But then reality would settle in again, and the ache in my chest would return.

I spent most of Saturday curled up on the couch in one of his old sweaters, a half-empty cup of tea cooling on the coffee table. My phone sat beside me, but I resisted the urge to text him, reminding myself he’d barely even landed yet. Instead, I scrolled absentmindedly through photos on my phone, pausing on the ones of us from the past week: Harry grinning at the garden, his arm slung casually around me at Anne’s house, the two of us laughing over cookies in my kitchen.

Sunday wasn’t much better. I tried to make myself productive, but even the simplest tasks felt draining. I stared at my bookshelf, thinking I might lose myself in a story, but every time I reached for a book, my mind wandered back to Harry.

By the evening, I was stretched out on the couch again, my blanket pulled tightly around me. The TV played a movie I wasn’t watching, the dialogue fading into the background as I stared at my phone. I hated feeling this way—so listless, so heavy—but I couldn’t shake it.

Then, just as I was about to turn the TV off and crawl into bed, my phone buzzed. I grabbed it instantly, my heart leaping when I saw his name on the screen.

Harry: Miss you already, love. What are you doing right now?

A smile broke across my face, and for the first time all weekend, the ache in my chest lightened. Maybe the distance was hard, but his message reminded me that I wasn’t alone in feeling this way. He missed me too.

I sat up, pulling the blanket tighter around me as I typed back.

Y/N: Moping around, missing you. What about you?

His reply came almost instantly.

Harry: Thinking about you. Do I need to fly back there and cheer you up?

I laughed softly, the sound breaking through the haze of my mood, and typed back quickly.

Y/N: As tempting as that sounds, I think I’ll be okay.

Harry: You’re stuck with me now.

A few weeks had passed, and life had slowly settled into a rhythm. Harry and I kept in touch through texts and FaceTime, and while I missed him more than I wanted to admit, hearing his voice and seeing his face, even through a screen, made the distance a little easier to bear.

One afternoon, I came home to find a small envelope waiting in my mailbox. It was addressed in elegant handwriting, and when I opened it, I was greeted by a beautifully designed invitation. My best friend was getting married. The date was just a few weeks away, and the location was back in the States.

Excited and surprised, I grabbed my phone and called her immediately. She picked up on the second ring, her voice light and cheerful.

“Y/N!” she said, already knowing why I was calling. “Did you get it?”

“I just opened it!” I said, grinning. “A wedding? When were you going to tell me? You’ve been holding out on me!”

She laughed. “I wanted it to be a surprise. It’s not going to be a huge thing, just close friends and family, but I’d love it if you could come. You’re one of the most important people in my life—I couldn’t imagine getting married without you there.”

Her words made my chest tighten, a warmth spreading through me. “Of course, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Are you kidding me? It’s your wedding.”

“Good,” she said, a smile in her voice. “I didn’t think you’d say no, but I still had to hear you say yes.”

“When did you start planning this?” I asked, still processing the news. “I had no idea.”

“Quietly,” she admitted. “We didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. Just something small and meaningful. And now that you’re coming, it’s going to be perfect.”

“I can’t wait,” I said sincerely. “You’re going to be the most beautiful bride.”

She laughed softly. “We’ll see about that. Just get yourself here. That’s all that matters.”

After we hung up, I stared at the invitation again, my heart swelling with excitement. It had been too long since I’d seen her, and the thought of being there for such an important moment felt incredible. I couldn’t wait to celebrate her love story—and to feel a little piece of home again.

After I hung up, I stared at the invitation in my hands, excitement bubbling in my chest. But alongside the joy came a small pang of guilt. My best friend was getting married, sharing one of the most important milestones of her life, and I’d been keeping a secret—something I hadn’t planned to keep from her for so long.

I glanced at my phone, hesitating for just a moment before hitting redial. She picked up almost instantly.

“Y/N, what’s up? Forget to ask something?” she said, her tone light and teasing.

I laughed nervously, twirling the edge of the invitation between my fingers. “Kind of. I just… there’s something I need to tell you.”

Her tone shifted slightly, curious but still warm. “Okay. Spill. What’s on your mind?”

I took a deep breath, gathering the courage to explain. “So, you know how we were just talking about important people in each other’s lives?”

“Yeah?” she said, drawing out the word, clearly intrigued.

“Well,” I began slowly, “there’s someone in my life I haven’t mentioned yet. And… I feel bad for not telling you sooner.”

“Y/N,” she said, her voice softening. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

I smiled despite my nerves, the warmth of her concern settling me. “It’s nothing bad. Actually, it’s really good. I’ve been… quietly dating someone.”

There was a pause on the other end, and then her voice rose, excitement bubbling through. “Wait, what? Y/N! Who is he? Why haven’t you told me? Spill everything, right now.”

I laughed, though my cheeks burned. “It’s kind of… well, it’s Harry, my boss’s son. Harry Styles.”

Silence followed, but only for a beat before she burst out laughing. “You’re joking. You have to be joking.”

“I’m not joking,” I said, smiling nervously. “It’s real. We’ve been seeing each other for a little while now. It’s still new, but… it’s real.”

There was another pause, and then a delighted squeal. “Oh my God, Y/N! You’re serious? You and Harry Styles? This is insane. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know how,” I admitted. “It’s been… a lot to figure out. And I didn’t want to overwhelm you with it. But now that you’re getting married, I just couldn’t keep it from you anymore.”

She let out an exaggerated sigh, though I could hear the smile in her voice. “You’re forgiven. But only because this is the best news I’ve heard in weeks. You have to tell me everything when you get here. Every single detail. Me and you. Hotel bar.”

I laughed, relief washing over me. “I promise. You’ll get the full story.”

“Good,” she said firmly. “And Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m so happy for you. You deserve this.”

Her words hit me squarely in the chest, and my smile softened. “Thank you. That means so much.”

“Now go start packing,” she said, her voice turning playful again. “I need my maid of honor looking fabulous when she meets my family.”

We laughed together before saying goodbye again, and as I hung up, the guilt I’d felt was replaced by a warm sense of relief. I couldn’t wait to share the details with her in person—and to see where this next chapter of our lives would take us.

That evening, as I settled onto the couch with my phone, Harry’s name lit up the screen. His familiar grin filled my heart with warmth as I picked up.

“Hey, love,” he said, his voice soft and full of affection. “How’s your day been?”

“Good,” I replied, smiling. “Actually, I have some news.”

“Oh?” he asked, intrigued. “What’s that?”

“I’m going to be a maid of honor,” I said, excitement bubbling in my voice. “My best friend’s getting married in New York in a few weeks, and she asked me to stand by her.”

Harry’s grin widened. “That’s amazing, Y/N. I bet she couldn’t imagine anyone better for the job.”

“She’s been one of my closest friends for years,” I said fondly. “I’m so excited for her. It’s a small wedding, just close friends and family, but it’s going to be so special.”

Harry’s voice turned playful. “So, what’s the plan for your maid of honor attire? Something chic? Dramatic? Full-on princess vibes?”

I laughed, rolling my eyes. “It’s her wedding, Harry. I’m not stealing the spotlight. She mentioned something about keeping it simple and elegant. I’m sure she’ll pick out a dress for me that fits the vibe.”

“I’m picturing you now,” he teased, his tone light but warm. “You’re going to look stunning, no matter what you wear.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I joked, feeling my cheeks heat.

“It’s not flattery if it’s true,” he shot back, his grin evident in his voice. “Now I’m wishing I could be there to see you walk down the aisle.”

I smiled softly, his words tugging at my heart. “You’ll be there in spirit.”

“Still doesn’t feel like enough,” he said, his tone turning thoughtful. “But I guess I’ll just have to settle for pictures—lots of pictures.”

“You’ll get plenty,” I promised. “And I’ll tell you all about it afterward.”

“Deal,” he said, his voice lighter again. “And if you need someone to practice your maid of honor speech on, you know where to find me.”

I laughed, feeling the warmth of his care wrap around me, even across the distance. The excitement of the wedding had been enough to brighten my day, but sharing it with Harry made it all the more special.

A few weeks later, the day of the wedding trip arrived, and I flew to New York City, excitement buzzing through me. After checking into the hotel where the ceremony would take place, I met up with my best friend, her enthusiasm matching mine. We hugged tightly, laughing and catching up before deciding to head down to the hotel bar for a celebratory drink.

The bar was cozy and bustling, and before long, the laughter between us grew louder, fueled by the cocktails we kept ordering. Somewhere between my second and third drink, she leaned in with a knowing smile.

“So,” she began, drawing out the word, “tell me everything about Harry. What’s he really like?”

I grinned, the warmth of the drinks making me more open than usual. “He’s… incredible,” I said, my voice softening. “He’s kind and thoughtful, always checking in to see how I’m doing. He makes me laugh so much, and he has this way of making me feel like the most important person in the world.”

She rested her chin on her hand, grinning like a schoolgirl. “Okay, I’m obsessed already. He sounds amazing. And ridiculously charming.”

“Oh, he is,” I said with a laugh. “Sometimes it’s almost unfair. But he’s also so genuine. He doesn’t just say sweet things—he backs them up with actions.”

My best friend sighed dramatically, raising her glass. “Here’s to the perfect boyfriend. And to you, for snagging him.”

We clinked glasses, laughing again as the drinks kept flowing. By the time we were both thoroughly drunk, she was looking at me with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“You know what we need to do?” she said, pulling my phone out of my purse.

I blinked, trying to focus. “What?”

“We need to call him,” she said, already scrolling through my contacts. “He needs to come to the wedding. He can’t miss this.”

“What?” I said, reaching for my phone, but my reflexes were dulled by the alcohol. “No! He’s busy. He’s—”

“Hello? Harry?” she said, cutting me off as the call connected. My eyes widened as I heard his voice on the other end.

“Uh, yeah, this is Harry,” he said, sounding a mix of amused and confused. “Who’s this?”

“It’s Y/N’s best friend,” she said brightly, her words slurring slightly. “Listen, you’re amazing, and she talks about you all the time. You need to get on a plane and come to this wedding. We’re going to party, and you can’t miss it.”

There was a pause, and then Harry laughed, his voice warm. “She’s been drinking, hasn’t she?”

I groaned, covering my face with my hands. “Harry, I’m so sorry. She stole my phone.”

“It’s fine, love,” he said, his tone light and teasing. “This is definitely the highlight of my night.”

“Seriously, though,” my friend continued, undeterred. “She’s amazing, and you’re amazing, and you belong here. Come on, Harry. Be the romantic hero.”

Harry chuckled again, clearly entertained. “I’ll see what I can do. But you might want to get her some water before she plans a whole flight for me.”

“She’s fine,” my friend insisted, grinning. “But you’re officially invited. Think about it.”

“I will,” Harry said, his voice softening. “Now, make sure she gets back to her room safely, all right?”

I finally managed to grab the phone, my face burning with embarrassment. “Harry, I’m so sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” he said, laughing. “It’s good to know I have a fan club.”

I sighed, but his lightheartedness eased some of my embarrassment. “I’ll call you tomorrow when I’m sober. Promise.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said warmly. “Goodnight, love.”

As I ended the call, my best friend leaned back in her chair, looking far too pleased with herself.

“You’re welcome,” she said smugly.

I couldn’t help but laugh, despite the mortification. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love me for it,” she said with a grin, raising her glass for another toast. And despite everything, I couldn’t deny that she was absolutely right.

As the laughter subsided and I tried to process the chaos of my friend calling Harry, she leaned forward again, her eyes sparkling with a new mischievous idea.

“All right, spill,” she said, her tone dripping with curiosity. “How good is he in bed? I mean, come on, it’s Harry Styles.”

My face immediately flushed, the alcohol making my usual filter non-existent. “We, uh… we haven’t done anything like that yet.”

Her jaw dropped, her expression a mix of shock and exaggerated disappointment. “What?! You’re telling me you’ve been dating Harry freaking Styles, and you haven’t gotten lucky yet?”

I laughed nervously, waving a hand as if to brush it off. “It’s not like that. We’ve been so busy—his schedule’s insane, and when we’re together, the moment just… hasn’t felt right.”

She groaned dramatically, throwing her head back. “That’s it. If he comes to the wedding, you have to make it happen.”

“Oh my God, stop,” I said, laughing and covering my face. “It’s not something I can just plan!”

“Sure, you can!” she said, slapping the table. “You’re the maid of honor, he’s the ridiculously sexy boyfriend. It’s practically a movie. You two sneak away during the reception, the sparks fly—boom, best night ever!”

I shook my head, trying not to laugh too hard at her drunken theatrics. “You’re ridiculous.”

“No,” she said, pointing a finger at me, her face serious despite her tipsy sway. “What’s ridiculous is that Harry Styles is in love with you, and you haven’t jumped him yet. If he gets here, you owe it to yourself. And to me, for the record. I need to live vicariously through this.”

I couldn’t stop laughing, my cheeks burning as I buried my face in my hands. “You’re insane.”

“And you love me for it,” she replied with a triumphant grin, raising her glass for another toast. “Here’s to Harry, your wedding date, and your impending fairytale night.”

I clinked my glass against hers, still laughing. “You’re absolutely wild.”

She leaned back in her chair, a smug smile on her face. “You know I’m right, though.”

As much as I tried to brush off her antics, her words lingered in my mind, equal parts embarrassing and amusing. And deep down, I couldn’t help but wonder if she might just be onto something.

Later that night, my phone buzzed on the nightstand of my hotel room as I clumsily changed into pajamas. Still a bit tipsy from the bar, I grabbed it, squinting at the screen. Harry’s name lit up, and a wide, silly grin spread across my face as I answered.

“Helloooo,” I drawled, dragging out the word in an exaggerated sing-song tone.

Harry chuckled on the other end, his voice warm and familiar. “Hi, love. Someone’s had a fun night, I take it?”

“You could say that,” I replied, flopping onto the bed and giggling. “We may have had… one or two drinks. Or three.”

“Sounds like it,” he said, clearly amused. “Well, I’ve got some news. I pulled a few strings, rearranged a couple of things, and… I can be your date to the wedding.”

The excitement hit me instantly, and I let out a loud, dramatic gasp. “You’re kidding! Harry Styles, the one and only, coming to my best friend’s wedding? I can’t believe it!”

He laughed, his tone softening. “Yeah, it’s happening. I didn’t want you going through it without me.”

“You’re the best,” I said, my words slurring slightly as I hugged a pillow. “Seriously. You’re, like, the nicest, sweetest, best boyfriend in the universe.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” he teased. “So, what’s the plan for the wedding? Are you ready for your maid of honor duties?”

“Totally ready,” I said, giggling. “Except my friend… oh my God, she’s gonna love you. But she said something so wild tonight.”

Harry hummed, his tone curious. “Oh? What’s that?”

I hesitated for a moment, then burst into laughter. “She said… she said we need to ‘get lucky together’ at the wedding.”

There was a beat of silence, and then Harry let out a deep, warm laugh. “She said what?”

“Yup!” I replied, laughing so hard tears pricked my eyes. “She was all like, ‘You’re dating Harry Styles, and you haven’t yet? If he comes to the wedding, you have to make it happen.’ Like, she was so serious. It was hilarious.”

Harry chuckled, the sound low and amused. “Sounds like she’s your biggest cheerleader.”

“Oh, she definitely is,” I said, grinning. “She’s wild, but she means well.”

“Well,” Harry said, his voice teasing, “far be it from me to disappoint your friend. If that’s what’s on her wishlist…”

I let out an exaggerated gasp, laughing. “Harry Edward Styles, you are terrible!”

“Terrible? Or just dedicated to fulfilling my duties as your boyfriend?” he quipped, the grin evident in his voice.

I dissolved into giggles, rolling onto my back. “You’re ridiculous. But you’re my ridiculous.”

“Exactly,” he said warmly. “Now, get some sleep, love. We can talk more when you’re not quite so… festive.”

“Festive,” I repeated, laughing softly. “Okay, fine. Goodnight, Harry. And thank you for coming to the wedding.”

“Anything for you,” he said, his voice soft. “Goodnight, Y/N. Sweet dreams.”

As I hung up, my heart felt lighter, the excitement of seeing him again making everything feel a little brighter—even through the haze of my drunken antics.

The next morning, a sharp knock at my hotel room door jolted me awake. Groaning, I buried my face in the pillow, my head pounding slightly from the night before.

“Y/N!” my best friend’s voice called through the door. “Get up, sleepyhead. We’re going to breakfast, and then we’re shopping. No arguments.”

I forced myself out of bed, dragging a hand through my hair as I shuffled to the door. When I opened it, she was standing there, bright-eyed and holding a cup of coffee, looking far more awake than I felt.

“Morning!” she chirped, thrusting the coffee into my hands. “Drink this. We’ve got plans.”

I took the cup gratefully, my voice groggy. “Plans? What kind of plans?”

“Wedding shopping, duh,” she said, pushing her way into the room. “I need a new set of lingerie for my wedding night, and you, my dear, are coming with me. We’re going to find something fabulous.”

I blinked at her, still half-asleep. “You’re dragging me lingerie shopping before I’ve even had breakfast?”

“Yes,” she said with a grin. “But don’t worry, breakfast is first. Oh, and while we’re shopping, you should pick out something slinky for Harry.”

My face instantly flushed, and I nearly choked on my coffee. “What?”

“You heard me,” she said, smirking as she flopped onto the edge of my bed. “If he’s coming to the wedding—and thank you, drunk me, for making that happen—you might as well make it a trip to remember.”

“You’re insane,” I said, laughing despite my embarrassment.

“And you love me for it,” she replied smugly. “Now hurry up and get dressed. We’ve got a lot to do today.”

Shaking my head, I set the coffee down and started pulling clothes from my suitcase. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I know,” she said with a wink. “Now, let’s get moving. We’ve got to find you something that’ll make Harry’s jaw drop.”

Despite the teasing, I couldn’t help but laugh as I got ready, her energy infectious. The thought of shopping for something like that was a little nerve-wracking, but her playful attitude made it hard not to feel excited about the day ahead.

After I got dressed and downed the coffee she brought, we headed down to the hotel’s restaurant for breakfast. The smell of fresh pastries and brewed coffee was heavenly, and as we sat by the window overlooking the bustling streets of New York City, I felt the lingering fog of last night’s drinks start to clear.

“So,” she said, leaning back in her chair with a sly grin, “are you going to take my advice and pick out something jaw-dropping?”

“For you or for me?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as I took a bite of my croissant.

“For you, obviously,” she said, rolling her eyes. “This is your chance to show Harry the full package. You know, give him a reason to never let you out of his sight again.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You act like he needs convincing. He’s coming to your wedding, isn’t he?”

“Yes, because I made the call of the century,” she said proudly, sipping her coffee. “But still, a little extra effort never hurts.”

“And you’re just dying to drag me into some lingerie shop, aren’t you?” I teased, smirking.

“Absolutely,” she said without hesitation. “You’ve always been too modest. It’s time to embrace the fun of it. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be the only one shopping for someone special.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips. “Fine, we’ll see. But don’t expect me to go full-on runway model.”

“Oh, I won’t push too hard,” she said, her grin widening. “But I’ll know the perfect set when I see it. Trust me.”

After breakfast, we ventured out into the city, hopping in and out of boutiques and shops, her energy as high as ever. At every store, she’d pull me toward the lingerie section, holding up items she deemed “Harry-worthy.”

“How about this?” she asked, holding up a sleek black lace set.

I blushed, shaking my head. “A little much, don’t you think?”

“Not for Harry,” she said with a wink. “Okay, how about this one?” She turned to a bold red satin number, the color striking against the delicate fabric.

“You’re relentless,” I said, laughing.

“Of course I am,” she replied, tossing the set into my arms. “Try it. You’ll thank me later.”

Despite my initial hesitation, I let her drag me into a dressing room, her over-the-top encouragement keeping me laughing the whole time. By the end of the trip, she’d found the perfect set for herself, while I begrudgingly admitted that she might have been right about hers for me.

Back at the hotel, we sprawled out on her bed, bags around us as we recapped the day.

“I can’t believe you actually convinced me,” I said, holding up the small shopping bag.

She grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “You’ll thank me when Harry sees you in that.”

“You’re impossible,” I said, laughing.

“And you’re about to have the best wedding date of your life,” she shot back, tossing a pillow at me.

As I looked at the bag, a mixture of nerves and excitement stirred in me.

Later that evening, nerves and excitement churned in my stomach as I waited for my Uber to arrive. Harry’s flight had landed, and I was heading to the airport to pick him up. My heart raced as I thought about seeing him again—it had felt like an eternity since we’d last been together.

The ride to the airport felt longer than it probably was, the anticipation making every mile stretch. When we finally pulled up, I stepped out into the cool night air, glancing around as I headed inside. The hustle and bustle of the terminal faded into the background as I made my way to the baggage claim, checking my phone for updates on his flight.

Then I saw him.

Harry stood near the carousel, his hands in the pockets of his jacket, his curls slightly tousled from the flight. Even in the chaos of the airport, he looked calm and effortlessly put together. When his eyes met mine, his face broke into a wide smile that made my chest tighten.

Without thinking, I ran to him, weaving through the crowd until I reached him. “Harry!” I called, my voice light with excitement.

Before I could say anything else, his arms wrapped around me, lifting me off the ground as he spun me in a circle. I laughed, holding onto him tightly, the familiar warmth of his embrace flooding through me.

“I missed you,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of affection as he pressed his face into my neck. “And you smell incredible.”

I laughed again, my cheeks flushing. “It’s just my usual perfume.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he said, setting me down but keeping his arms around me. “It’s you. You always smell amazing.”

I looked up at him, my hands resting on his chest as I took him in. His green eyes sparkled under the harsh airport lights, his grin soft and genuine. “I missed you too,” I said quietly, the words carrying so much more than they seemed.

“Well, I’m here now,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “And I don’t plan on letting you out of my sight.”

After we left the airport, the car ride back to the hotel was filled with easy laughter and light conversation. Harry held my hand the entire time, his thumb brushing softly over my knuckles as we caught up on everything we hadn’t said over texts and calls. Being with him again felt so natural, like no time had passed at all.

When we reached the hotel, I led him up to my room. He dropped his bag by the door and glanced around, taking in the space with a small smile. “Cozy,” he said, his voice warm.

“It does the job,” I replied, grinning as I kicked off my shoes and went to grab a bottle of water from the mini-fridge. As I handed him one, a thought struck me. “Oh! Do you want to see my dress for the wedding?”

His eyes lit up, and he leaned against the desk, crossing his arms. “Absolutely. Show me what the maid of honor will be rocking.”

I laughed, walking over to the closet where the dress hung neatly in its garment bag. I unzipped it carefully and pulled it out, holding it up for him to see. The dress was elegant and understated, a soft blush color with delicate lace detailing along the neckline and sleeves. The flowing skirt gave it a romantic, timeless feel.

Harry’s gaze softened as he took it in, his smile widening. “It’s beautiful,” he said, his voice sincere. “You’re going to look stunning in that.”

“You think so?” I asked, feeling a little self-conscious as I draped it over the back of a chair.

“I know so,” he replied, stepping closer. “But let’s be honest—you’d look stunning in anything.”

I rolled my eyes playfully, though my cheeks warmed at his compliment. “You’re too sweet.”

He reached out, pulling me gently into his arms. “Just telling the truth,” he said softly, his hands resting lightly on my waist. “Can I say something without sounding completely selfish?”

“Of course,” I said, tilting my head to look up at him.

“I’m so glad I’m here to see you in this,” he said, his grin turning a little sheepish. “I didn’t want to miss this moment—or you.”

My heart swelled at his words, and I smiled, resting my hands on his chest. “I’m glad you’re here too. It wouldn’t have felt the same without you.”

He leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against my forehead. “Well, now you’ve got me, and I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

The dress hung behind me as Harry held me close, the promise of the wedding and the days ahead filling the room with a sense of excitement and possibility.

As we stood by the chair where my maid of honor dress hung, Harry’s gaze drifted around the room, taking in the little details. His eyes landed on the small shopping bag sitting on the table near the window, the faintest smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward it.

My eyes widened as I followed his gaze, and my cheeks flushed instantly. “Nothing!” I said quickly, darting over to the table and grabbing the bag.

“Nothing?” he repeated, the smirk growing. “You got nothing at a lingerie store?”

“It’s not what you think,” I mumbled, fumbling to open my suitcase and stuff the bag inside, my back to him.

“Uh-huh,” he said, leaning casually against the desk, his tone full of amusement. “You’re being very subtle about it.”

“Drop it, Harry,” I said, though the laugh bubbling up in my chest made it hard to sound serious.

“Fine, fine,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender, though his grin didn’t waver. “But for the record, I’m very intrigued by this ‘nothing’ you’re hiding.”

I shot him a playful glare, zipping up the suitcase and turning back to face him. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he teased, stepping closer and brushing a hand lightly down my arm. “But I’ll behave… for now.”

The warmth in his eyes made my heart flutter, and despite my embarrassment, I couldn’t help but laugh. “Good. Now, are you done snooping around my hotel room?”

“For now,” he said with a wink, his grin turning softer. “But only because I’m more interested in spending time with you.”

Shaking my head, I let him pull me back into his arms, the earlier moment fading into laughter.

After a quiet evening catching up and unwinding from the long day, Harry and I began getting ready for bed. The excitement of seeing him again and the anticipation of my best friend’s wedding the next morning made my heart feel full. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm light as I pulled out a pair of comfy pajamas, glancing over to see Harry stretched out on the bed, scrolling through his phone with a relaxed smile.

“You ready for tomorrow?” he asked, looking up at me as I climbed into bed.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I replied with a smile, settling in beside him. “It’s going to be a beautiful day.”

“It will be,” he said, leaning over to kiss my forehead. “And you’re going to be amazing.”

The room fell into a peaceful silence as we both drifted off, the hum of the city outside muffled by the thick curtains. I woke early the next morning, the excitement of the day pulling me out of sleep before my alarm even went off. Carefully, I slipped out of bed, glancing back at Harry, who was still sleeping soundly. He looked peaceful, his hair tousled and his expression soft.

I leaned over, gently pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’ll see you downstairs,” I whispered, not wanting to wake him fully.

He stirred slightly, murmuring something incoherent before settling back into the pillows. Smiling, I grabbed my dress and makeup bag and quietly left the room, heading downstairs to join the bridal party.

The hotel’s ballroom was already a flurry of activity when I arrived. My best friend greeted me with a hug, her face glowing with excitement as she ushered me over to where the hairstylist and makeup artist were setting up.

“You ready for this?” she asked, her grin wide as she handed me a cup of coffee.

“Absolutely,” I said, matching her energy. “Let’s get you married.”

The morning flew by in a whirlwind of preparations—hair, makeup, last-minute adjustments to dresses—and the energy in the room was electric. As I helped my best friend into her wedding gown, I couldn’t help but think about how perfect the day was shaping up to be. And knowing that Harry would be there to share it with me made it feel even more special.

The ceremony was beautiful, every detail reflecting the love my best friend and her fiancé shared. The hotel ballroom was elegantly decorated with soft florals and candles that flickered gently, casting a warm glow over the guests. As I stood beside her, holding her bouquet and witnessing her vows, my heart swelled with happiness for her.

But I wasn’t unaware of Harry. Sitting a few rows back, he watched me with a soft intensity that made my chest tighten. I could feel his gaze, a silent support that steadied me through the emotional ceremony. When I glanced at him briefly, his small, encouraging smile sent a wave of warmth through me.

After the ceremony, the reception buzzed with excitement and laughter. The ballroom had been transformed into a space of celebration, with tables adorned with candles and flowers, and a dance floor waiting for its first guests. Toasts had begun, and as the maid of honor, it was my turn.

When I stood to speak, a hush fell over the room. Harry’s eyes found mine instantly, his expression filled with pride and encouragement. I smiled at my best friend and her new spouse, holding a small piece of paper in my trembling hands.

“I thought about what I could say to you today,” I began, my voice steady but soft. “About how much you mean to me, about the love you’ve found, and about this beautiful journey you’re starting. But nothing I could say felt big enough, important enough, or true enough. So, I wrote you this.”

I glanced down at the poem I had poured my heart into, the words flowing as naturally as the love I felt for her. My voice softened as I read:

"In the quiet of your laughter, And the light within your smile, I’ve seen the kind of love that grows, A flame that warms for miles.

You’ve built a home within each other, A place no storm could break. A bond that holds, through highs and lows, No matter what’s at stake.

So as you walk this path together, A future bold and true, Know my heart is here, forever, Cheering both of you."

As I finished, my voice broke slightly, the emotions catching up to me. Tears glistened in my best friend’s eyes, and as she reached out to take my hand, I realized I wasn’t the only one crying. A quiet sniffle from the crowd told me others had been moved too, including Harry, whose gaze was warm and full of admiration.

“You’re impossible,” my best friend said through her tears, pulling me into a hug. “How am I supposed to top that?”

“You don’t have to,” I said, my voice thick with emotion. “Just be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for you.”

The room broke into applause as we hugged tightly, and I returned to my seat, feeling lighter and fuller all at once. As I sat down beside Harry, he reached over to squeeze my hand, his smile soft and full of pride.

“That,” he whispered, leaning close, “was incredible. You have no idea how amazing you are, do you?”

I looked at him, my heart swelling once again. “I’m starting to get the idea.”

As the music played and the reception buzzed with energy, my best friend walked over, her wedding dress flowing elegantly as she approached Harry and me at our table. Her face lit up with a mix of gratitude and playfulness, and before I could say a word, she pulled me into a tight hug.

“Y/N, you made me cry in front of everyone,” she said with mock indignation, though her voice was thick with emotion. “That poem was beautiful. I’ll never forget it.”

I hugged her back, smiling. “You deserve every word, and then some.”

Pulling back, she turned her attention to Harry, her smile widening. “And you must be the famous Harry Styles I’ve heard so much about.”

Harry stood and extended a hand, his grin charming as ever. “Guilty as charged. You must be the bride who’s been giving Y/N all this grief about me.”

She laughed, shaking his hand before placing her other hand on her hip. “Well, someone had to give her a push. But now that I’ve met you, I think you’re worth it.”

Harry chuckled, glancing at me. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The three of us chatted for a while, the conversation light and full of teasing. My best friend, always the life of the party, had Harry laughing within minutes, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of warmth at how easily they clicked.

Eventually, she sighed dramatically, glancing around the room. “All right, I should go mingle with the rest of these people. It’s my party, after all.”

She leaned in to give me one last hug, her voice dropping to a mischievous whisper in my ear. “You two are ridiculously lucky. And I hope you get really lucky tonight.”

I froze for a moment, my cheeks instantly heating as I pulled back, glaring at her playfully. “Oh my God, stop,” I hissed, but she just laughed, giving me a wink before gliding away into the crowd.

Harry noticed my flustered expression and raised an eyebrow, his tone teasing. “What did she say?”

“Nothing,” I said quickly, waving him off.

His smirk deepened as he sat back down. “Whatever it was, it’s clearly not ‘nothing.’”

I rolled my eyes, trying to hide my smile. “Let’s just say she’s in full bride-mode mischief and leave it at that.”

Harry laughed, reaching over to take my hand. “Fair enough. But remind me to thank her for all the meddling—seems like it paid off.”

As we sat there, watching the celebration unfold around us, I couldn’t help but feel a little giddy. Between the happiness of the day and the man sitting beside me, everything felt just right. And though I tried to brush off my friend’s teasing, her words lingered, filling me with a mix of nerves and excitement for whatever the night might hold.

Once the energy of the night began to mellow, Harry and I exchanged a knowing look, both feeling the pull of exhaustion. The day had been incredible, but the hours of celebration were catching up to us.

“You ready to head up?” he asked softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face.

I nodded, smiling. “Yeah, I think I’m about ready to call it a night.”

We said our goodbyes to my best friend, who was still glowing with joy, and made our way to the elevator. The ride up to the room was quiet, a comfortable silence filled with the warmth of the day’s memories. When we stepped into the room, Harry dropped his jacket onto the chair and stretched, running a hand through his curls.

“I’m going to hop in the shower,” I said, grabbing my pajamas—and the little lingerie bag—from my suitcase. Harry, half-distracted by pulling off his tie, waved me off with a smile.

“Take your time,” he said, his voice soft.

In the bathroom, I turned on the hot water, letting it steam up the mirror as I slipped out of my dress. The shower was refreshing, washing away the day’s excitement and leaving me with a fluttering mix of nerves and anticipation. As I dried off, I glanced at the little bag, my friend’s teasing words echoing in my mind.

Taking a deep breath, I slipped the lingerie on, the delicate fabric hugging my skin. It was far more daring than anything I’d normally wear, but tonight felt like the right moment to step outside my comfort zone. Over it, I pulled on a light robe, tying it loosely at the waist.

When I opened the bathroom door, the room was softly lit by the bedside lamp. Harry was sitting on the edge of the bed, scrolling through his phone. He looked up as I stepped out, his casual expression freezing the moment his eyes landed on me.

“Y/N…” he said, his voice trailing off as he set his phone down, Harry's eyes fixed on me, his gaze slowly sweeping up and down my body. He rose from the bed, his eyes never leaving mine as he approached. "What do you think?" I whispered, my fingers playing with the edge of my silk robe.

"You're...breathtaking," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. His hand reached out to trace the curve of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His other hand found the tie of my robe, gently tugging it loose before pushing the fabric off my shoulders to reveal my lacy bra and panties beneath.

I smiled coyly, emboldened by his hungry stare. The way he looked at me made me feel powerful and irresistible. As he stepped closer, I reached out and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing his toned chest and tattooed abdomen. I ran my fingers over his smooth skin, feeling his muscles tense beneath my touch.

When our lips met in a searing kiss, Harry's hands roamed over me, exploring the swell of my breasts and the curve of my hips. His fingers dipped beneath the lace waistband of my panties, teasingly brushing against me before sliding them down to expose me completely.

"I need you inside me," I whispered into his ear as I unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. His rigid length sprang free, pulsing with need. Eagerly, I stroked as I guided him towards my entrance.

He entered me slowly at first, allowing me time to adjust to his size before steadily picking up the pace. Our bodies moved in perfect harmony as we tangled ourselves in each other's heat and passion. Each thrust seemed to take us both higher until we were dancing on the edge of release.

I arched beneath him as he hit a particularly sensitive spot deep within me; my fingernails dug into the muscles of his back as waves of pleasure surged through me. Harry's breath came in increasingly ragged gasps, his green eyes locked on mine, full of unabashed lust.

As our bodies melted together, he buried his face in the crook of my neck, muffling his groans while I cried out in ecstasy. Our climax reverberated through us, leaving us both trembling and sated as we clung to one another.

Later, as we lay side by side in the soft glow of the hotel room, I couldn’t help but turn toward Harry, my heart full and my mind quiet for the first time all day. The sheets were a mess around us, and the faint hum of the city outside provided a soothing backdrop to the intimacy of the moment.

Harry’s face was turned slightly toward me, his eyes closed, his breathing slow and steady. The subtle rise and fall of his chest, the way his curls fell messily across his forehead, and the softness in his expression all struck me in a way that made my chest tighten. Even in sleep—or maybe especially in sleep—he was breathtaking.

His lips, slightly parted, held the faintest curve, like he was caught in a pleasant dream. His lashes were long, fanning out delicately against his cheekbones, and the soft stubble along his jawline added a ruggedness that only seemed to amplify his beauty. The golden light from the bedside lamp highlighted the contours of his face, casting gentle shadows that made him look like something out of a painting.

I traced his features with my eyes, memorizing every detail, every curve and line that made him him. The dimple in his chin, the faint freckles that dusted his skin, and the slight crease in his brow that softened when I gently brushed his curls back from his forehead.

He stirred slightly at the touch, his lips twitching into a small smile even though his eyes remained closed. His hand found mine under the sheets, his fingers intertwining with mine like it was second nature.

“You’re staring,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep but carrying that familiar warmth.

I smiled, leaning closer until my forehead lightly rested against his. “Can you blame me?” I whispered. “You’re beautiful.”

His eyes opened, just a sliver, enough for me to see the flicker of amusement and affection in their green depths. “You’re biased,” he said, his lips curving fully into a smile now.

“Maybe,” I replied softly, my thumb brushing over his hand. “But it doesn’t make it any less true.”

Harry let out a low chuckle, his voice rumbling in a way that made my heart flutter. “You’ve got it backwards, love. You’re the beautiful one.”

I shook my head slightly, a shy laugh escaping me. “We can argue about it later. Just… let me enjoy this.”

He sighed contentedly, closing his eyes again and tightening his hold on my hand. “Enjoy all you want. I’m not going anywhere.”

And as I lay there beside him, the world outside fading into the background, I felt a deep sense of peace. There was no place I’d rather be than here, wrapped in the quiet warmth of Harry and the soft glow of a love that felt like it could light up the entire world.

Harry broke the peaceful silence, his voice low and tinged with something heavy. “I don’t want to leave tomorrow.”

The words hit me softly but deeply, and I turned my head to look at him. His green eyes were open now, gazing at me with an honesty that made my chest tighten. He wasn’t trying to hide the sadness in his voice, and it mirrored the ache that had already begun to form in me.

“I don’t either,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “It feels like we just got here.”

His hand, still holding mine under the sheets, tightened slightly. “This whole long-distance thing,” he said with a small, rueful smile, “it’s not exactly my favorite.”

I let out a soft laugh, though it lacked humor. “Mine either. But we’re making it work.”

“Barely,” he muttered, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “I just… it’s hard leaving you.”

I shifted closer, resting my forehead against his, our noses just barely touching. “I know,” I whispered. “It’s hard for me too.”

“My flight’s not until the afternoon,” he said after a moment, his voice quieter now. “But yours is early, isn’t it?”

I nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. Morning flight back to London. I’ll probably have to leave the hotel while you’re still sleeping.”

The thought made my chest ache even more. Leaving him here, knowing we’d be apart again, felt unbearable. Harry sighed, his eyes closing as he rested his forehead more firmly against mine.

“I hate the idea of waking up and not seeing you,” he said softly, the vulnerability in his voice breaking down the walls I’d tried to build to stay strong.

“Me too,” I whispered, my hand finding its way to his cheek. I stroked it gently, feeling the roughness of his stubble under my fingertips. “But we’ll get through it. I have hope.”

He opened his eyes again, the depth of his gaze pulling me in. “I know we will,” he said, his voice steady despite the sadness. “I just wish I could keep you here with me. Or come back with you.”

My throat tightened, and I had to fight back tears as I nodded. “I wish that too. Every time.”

Harry let out a soft sigh, pulling me into his arms and holding me close. “Then let’s just make tonight count,” he murmured against my hair. “No thinking about tomorrow. Just you and me.”

I nodded against his chest, wrapping my arms around him. “Just us,” I agreed softly.

And for the rest of the night, we held on to each other like we were trying to make time stop, savoring every touch, every word, every moment as if it were the only thing that mattered—because to us, it was.

The alarm buzzed softly in the dark room, and I reached out to silence it, careful not to disturb Harry. The early morning light barely peeked through the curtains as I sat up, my heart heavy with the knowledge that I’d have to leave him behind.

I turned to look at him, still sound asleep, his curls a mess against the pillow, his breathing steady and soft. He looked so peaceful, and the thought of waking him to say goodbye felt too cruel. Instead, I leaned down, pressing the gentlest kiss to his temple, letting my lips linger for just a moment.

Quietly, I slipped out of bed, gathering my things and moving around the room as silently as possible. My suitcase was packed, my heart ached, and as I looked at him one last time, I knew I couldn’t leave without something more.

I found the notepad on the desk by the window, the hotel’s logo printed at the top, and grabbed a pen. Sitting down, I took a deep breath and began to write, the words flowing easily despite the tightness in my chest:

Harry,

I didn’t want to wake you—I know how much you hate goodbyes. But I couldn’t leave without saying how much this trip has meant to me. Being here with you, even for such a short time, reminds me how lucky I am to have you in my life. You make everything brighter, better, and more beautiful.

I’ll miss you more than I can say, but I’ll hold on to the memory of this time until we’re together again. Thank you for being you, for caring about me the way you do, and for coming to this wedding to make it unforgettable.

Call me when you wake up. And don’t forget—this isn’t goodbye. It’s just ‘see you later.’

Love, Y/N

I folded the note neatly and placed it on the bedside table, propping it up against the lamp so he’d see it as soon as he woke up. My chest ached as I looked at him one last time, my heart wishing for just a few more minutes.

But time wasn’t on our side. With a deep breath, I grabbed my suitcase and slipped quietly out of the room, the sound of the door clicking shut behind me feeling far too final.

As I made my way to the airport, the thought of Harry waking up and reading my note brought me a small comfort, even as the distance between us began to grow again.

The flight back to England was everything I dreaded—a cold, uncomfortable reminder of how far I was traveling from Harry. The cabin air was chilly, no matter how tightly I wrapped the airline blanket around myself, and the hum of the engines only made the hours drag on longer. I tried to distract myself by reading or watching the in-flight entertainment, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the warmth of his arms and the soft sound of his laugh.

I stared out the window at the endless expanse of clouds, my reflection faint against the glass. My chest ached with the weight of our goodbye, and though I knew we’d see each other again, the distance felt like a physical barrier that was harder to bear with every passing mile.

When the plane finally touched down in London, the dreary sky mirrored my mood. I made my way through customs and baggage claim on autopilot, my suitcase trailing behind me as I navigated the familiar airport. By the time I stepped outside, the brisk air hit me, making me shiver and pull my coat tighter.

All I could think about was the comfort of my own bed, the one place that felt like home when everything else seemed to shift. The drive back to my flat felt endless, and when I finally unlocked the door and stepped inside, the silence hit me harder than I expected.

I left my suitcase by the door and went straight to my room, kicking off my shoes and collapsing onto the bed without bothering to change out of my travel clothes. The soft sheets enveloped me, and I closed my eyes, letting the familiar scent and warmth of my space soothe the ache in my chest.

I reached for my phone, staring at the screen, hoping for a message from Harry. As if on cue, the device buzzed, and his name lit up the screen.

Harry: You made it back, yeah? Hope you’re curled up in bed—it’s what you deserve after that flight.

A small smile tugged at my lips as I typed back.

Y/N: Just got in. You know me too well—already under the covers. Miss you.

His reply came almost instantly.

Harry: Miss you more. Rest up, love. I’ll call you in a bit, okay?

I set the phone down, the comfort of his words settling over me like a second blanket. As much as I hated the distance, knowing he was just a message or call away made it a little easier. For now, I let the exhaustion of the day take over, letting sleep claim me in the quiet warmth of my own bed.

The next morning, sunlight streamed through my curtains, waking me far earlier than I wanted. I stretched lazily, still groggy from the long travel day, when my phone buzzed on the nightstand. I reached for it, rubbing my eyes as I unlocked the screen. A text from Mitch lit up the screen, and I smiled immediately.

Mitch: Hey, just checking in. Hope you’re settling back in after that long flight. H sent me some pics of us in the studio yesterday—thought you might like to see what he’s been up to.

Attached were a few photos, and I couldn’t help but grin as I opened them. The first was a candid shot of Harry at the mic, his hair a tousled mess and his eyes closed as he sang. His passion was evident, the intensity on his face a reminder of how much he loved what he did.

The second photo was of Mitch and Harry together, both of them laughing at something, their instruments nearby. Harry was mid-laugh, his dimples on full display, and the sight made my chest ache in the best way.

I quickly typed back a reply:

Y/N: Mitch! Thanks for checking in. I’m doing okay—just getting back into the swing of things here. These pics made my day. He looks so happy.

Almost instantly, Mitch replied.

Mitch: He’s happy, yeah. But trust me, he hasn’t stopped talking about you. Keeps saying how much he misses you already.

I bit my lip, warmth flooding through me. I could practically hear Mitch’s teasing tone in his message.

Y/N: Now you’re just trying to make me cry. Thank you for keeping an eye on him for me.

Mitch: Anytime. You two are good together. Let me know if you need me to pass along any messages—or if you want me to remind him to eat something besides coffee and snacks.

I laughed softly, shaking my head as I typed back.

Y/N: Always looking out for him. Thanks, Mitch. I’ll text him later, but tell him I said hi, just in case.

Mitch: Will do. Take care, Y/N.

The weeks dragged on, each day feeling longer than the last without Harry nearby. But getting back into my routine with Anne brought a sense of normalcy. Being around her again reminded me of the warmth and support that had brought me here in the first place. We fell back into our usual rhythm of work and lighthearted conversation, and moments like those made the distance from Harry feel a little easier to bear.

One afternoon, I was in the kitchen, boiling a pot of tea for us to share. The aroma of Earl Grey filled the air, and I called out to Anne, who was in the study, “Tea’s ready!”

I reached for the mugs, humming softly to myself, when I suddenly felt a pair of arms wrap firmly around my waist. Startled, I froze for a moment before turning my head, half-expecting to see Anne with some kind of playful gesture.

But instead, I found myself face-to-face with Harry, his familiar green eyes sparkling with mischief. My heart skipped a beat, and a slow grin spread across my face as I remembered the very first time we met.

“Well, you’re definitely not your mum,” I said, my voice light and teasing.

Harry laughed, his grin widening as he tightened his hold around me. “Déjà vu, isn’t it?” he said, his voice warm and full of affection.

I twisted in his arms to face him fully, my hands resting on his chest as I took in the sight of him. “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice caught between surprise and joy. “You didn’t tell me you were coming back!”

“I wanted to surprise you,” he said softly, his hands moving to my waist as he leaned closer. “Mum might have tipped me off about your tea-making schedule.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Anne’s always in on the surprises, isn’t she?”

“She’s a mastermind,” he joked, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “But I couldn’t wait any longer. I missed you too much.”

My chest tightened at his words, and I smiled up at him, my fingers brushing lightly over his sweater. “I missed you too.”

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, and for a moment, the rest of the world fell away. The kettle whistled on the stove, breaking the quiet, and I laughed, gently pulling back.

“Guess we better not let your mum’s tea get cold,” I said, reaching for the mugs.

Harry grinned, grabbing one for himself. “Lead the way, love.”

As we walked toward the study, the warmth of his presence made everything feel right again, like the missing piece of my world had finally fallen back into place.

Harry followed me to the table, the two of us settling into the cozy nook where Anne always liked to sip her tea. As I poured the steaming liquid into the mugs, he leaned back in his chair, his arms casually resting on the table, his familiar grin tugging at his lips.

“Feels good to be back,” he said, his eyes sparkling as he looked at me. “Though I was starting to wonder if you were going to replace me with all the tea-making and poetry-writing. Very English of you, by the way.”

I laughed, shaking my head as I handed him his mug. “I think you’re safe—for now. But Anne’s poetry game is pretty strong.”

He smirked, taking a sip of his tea before setting it down. “Good thing I’ve got my charm to fall back on. Plus, if I remember correctly, you can’t resist my dimples. They’re basically my secret weapon.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress my grin. “Is that so?”

“Oh, absolutely,” he replied, leaning forward conspiratorially. “In fact, I’d say they’re at least 60 percent of the reason you agreed to date me.”

I snorted, nearly spilling my tea. “Sixty percent?”

“Fine,” he said with a mock sigh, his expression thoughtful. “Seventy, but only because I’m being modest.”

I couldn’t hold back my laughter as Anne walked in, catching the tail end of the conversation. She looked between us, smiling knowingly as she took her seat.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, pouring herself a cup of tea.

“Harry’s trying to convince me his dimples are his greatest asset,” I said, still grinning.

Anne raised an eyebrow, smirking as she took a sip of her tea. “I’d say they’re top three.”

“See?” Harry said, gesturing toward his mum as if her opinion sealed the deal. “It’s unanimous.”

I rolled my eyes, the warmth of the moment settling over me. “Well, congratulations. You’ve won me over—again.”

Harry leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. “That’s good to know. I’d hate to think I traveled all this way just to lose you to better tea or a clever poem.”

His words, light as they were, carried an unmistakable warmth, and as we sat there together, the tea steaming between us and laughter filling the air, I couldn’t imagine a more perfect ending to the day—or the story that had brought us here.

[fastandcarlos]

Breakfast Surprise : ̗̀➛ Sebastian Vettel

summary: even after retirement, sebastian is as busy as ever, so you're there to give him a treat to remind him to take care of himself

It was frantic to say the least as Sebastian rushed around the house, throwing all the things he needed into his bag. You’d never known it in all your years together, but as Sebastian missed his alarm, he was left in a panic trying to make sure he got to the paddock on time. 

You were little help as Sebastian tried to pack his bag, deciding to leave the room and give him some space. Instead, you headed into the kitchen of the apartment that you were renting, deciding to look through the cupboards and see what you could find. 

It didn’t take long before you had a plan in mind, knowing exactly what you wanted to do. Sebastian was completely unaware of what you were doing as you got busy, leaving him to go through his usual steps, just at a much quicker pace than usual. 

In amongst the panic, the one thing you knew Sebastian wouldn’t think about was breakfast, the one thing you knew his team would be keen for him to remember though. 

Every so often you could hear him groan as he forgot something, trying his best to get sorted as quickly as possible. As he was done, he walked out of the bedroom, humming in surprise as he walked through to be greeted by the smell of something delicious. 

Intrigue got the better of Sebastian as he walked through into the kitchen to see you stood by the oven busying yourself. Sebastian crept over in your direction, placing his hands on your waist and resting his head on your shoulder to see what you were doing. 

“Is this breakfast?” 

“No, it’s tea for tonight,” you sarcastically responded, watching as Sebastian’s eyes rolled. He pressed a kiss to your cheek before taking a seat on one of the stools. “You know what they say, breakfast is the most important meal of the day.” 

An appreciative smile appeared on Sebastian’s face as he allowed himself to relax for the first time that day. You placed a plate in front of him as you began to dish up the pancakes that you had made, pancakes you were sure even Carlos would be proud of. 

Sebastian couldn’t believe his eyes as he took in what you had done for him, studying you closely as you carefully placed some pancakes on his plate. There were a few items for toppings lying around that you placed on the table, adding to the sweetness for you both. 

“This is beautiful,” Sebastian smiled as he picked up his knife and fork, cutting off a piece and popping it into his mouth. “You know I think my trainer would have something to say if he knew that I was eating pancakes for breakfast today.” 

“It’s a good job you don’t race anymore then,” you teased. 

Even though he wasn’t racing, Sebastian still had his duties to fulfil at the paddock. It was something you had done for many years, trying your best to make life as easy as possible for Sebastian, doing little things when you could to help him out. 

“You still need to eat, and I know exactly what you’re like,” you laughed, taking a seat next to him. “If you’re running late the first thing you always forget is breakfast, but you need to make sure that you’re eating properly still.” 

“You’re the best,” Sebastian sweetly smiled, nudging himself against your side. “It means a lot to me how amazing of a job you do of taking care of me.” 

You never failed to take Sebastian by surprise with your kind gestures and concern. He was all prepared to rush out of the door with nothing, but once again you were there to step in and make sure that he actually took care of himself. 

“It’s nice to be able to spend a little more time with you in the mornings these days,” you whispered, hearing several hums of delight beside you as Sebastian kept eating. “I remember the days that I got about five minutes with you if I was lucky.” 

“This is why I retired, for you, for our family,” Sebastian reminded you, leaning over and kissing against your cheek. “These are the moments that I felt like I missed out on for so many years, but now I get to savour them.” 

Your smile was wide as Sebastian grinned brightly across at you too. “It’s only breakfast, with my cooking, I’d hardly say it’s something special anyway.” 

It wasn’t much to you, but it was everything to Sebastian. All the little things added up to create those bigger moments, it was those little things that reminded him every single day just how lucky he was to have someone as caring as you in his life. 

“It’s amazing,” Sebastian assured you, tucking in once again. 

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you as you finished off, murmurs of conversation appearing every so often. Sebastian especially making sure he ate every last crumb, making the most of it. Despite being in a rush, he still wanted to make the most of such a good breakfast, even finding the time to eat the leftovers that you had on your plate too. 

“Finished?” You smiled as you picked up your plate, reaching across to pick up Sebastian’s too, only for him to keep it in his hands. Your eyebrows knitted together as he chuckled, standing up with his plate in his own hands instead. 

Before you could protest Sebastian took your plate out of your hands too and walked over to the sink. A sigh came from you as you realised what it was that he was doing, noticing the smug smile that was on his face too as he got away with it. 

You turned your attentions to the table, picking up the other items and putting them back where they were, settling beside Sebastian once you were finished. 

“You cooked, the least I could do was wash up,” he smirked, poking the tip of your nose with his finger, leaving plenty of bubbles there to annoy you. 

Your eyes rolled as you swatted him away. “You need to get to the paddock before you get told off, leave all of that and I’ll sort it out.” 

“I’ve got time,” Sebastian insisted, refusing to let you budge him out the way. “It’s the least that I can do anyway considering what you’ve just done for me. You go and relax for a bit, get yourself sorted for the day ahead.” 

Your hands brushed through Sebastian’s hair as he encouraged you to leave things for him to sort out, wanting you to spend a bit of time for yourself too. 

“Go away,” Sebastian laughed as you stayed glued to his side, moving your hands down to rest against his hips. “I know you’re worrying about me but I’m alright, and I’ll be on time. Take some time and get yourself ready, you’ve got to live up to that reputation of being the hottest partner in the paddock too.” 

A chuckle quickly came from you, “am I allowed to still claim that title considering the fact that you’ve retired now?” 

“In my eyes, no one will even come close to taking that from you.” 

“You’re so smooth Vettel.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[devildomwriter]

Fill Your Hearts With Christmas Cheer | Raphael, Simeon, & Solomon x Reader

1.9k+ words | GN! Reader | Luke included platonically | CW: none

Summary ~ You and the purgatory hall gang are making ornaments but things don’t go to plan thanks to Solomon and a couple kisses.

The room smelled like a mix of cookies and burning skin as you dropped the hot glue gun again, stinging yourself for the ninth time.

“I think we need to revoke your glue gun privileges,” Solomon joked but Simeon nodded completely seriously.

“I agree. Why don’t you take a break and help Luke with the cookies?” Simeon suggested.

Raphael was quick to protest, “You want them near an oven after this?”

Simeon quickly draped a blanket over your shoulders instead, tempting you to stay seated. You sighed and held up your pinky to Simeon who gently kissed it, healing it instantly.

Raphael and Solomon glared and Simeon chuckled and set your hot chocolate next to you.

You think you’d just about had enough of hot things for now.

Apparently making ornaments wasn’t as easy as you thought. Luke got a brand new tree this year and hallmark ornaments were too expensive, so instead you, Solomon, Simeon, and Raphael collectively decided to make some.

Raphael brought out some of his less expensive fabrics and threads, Solomon collected a mixture of odd materials, some of them glowed suspiciously, and Simeon being a responsible adult had gone to the craft store to get beads, stickers, foam cutouts, glitter, and pipe cleaners.

You avoided the things that glowed but Raphael and Solomon were happy to use them and you stuck to stringing beans onto a pile cleaner to make fake candy canes. When you’d made enough you switched to cutting out foam and decorating it into different shapes, this however required your hot glue gun and it seemed to hate you.

Solomon headed you three times with a spell and Simeon and Raphael had kissed the injured area the remaining six times. Solomon was becoming upset he didn’t have an angel’s healing kiss. Luke had no idea this battle of sorts was happening in the next room.

The smell of cookies wafted more strongly in the air now as you heard the oven open.

Raphael got up to assist Luke taking them out even though the young angel was plenty used to this as well as oven “kisses” as he called them.

Simeon smiled at your current cut-out shapes of foam that remained unglued from each other.

“Is this a Santa hat?” He asked and you nodded.

“Are you putting it on a sheep?” Solomon laughed and again agreed with a big smile.

“Yes, I just need to glue it on—“

“Allow me,” Simeon intercepted your reach for the glue gun and did it himself with quick and delicate precision.

Seeing how well it turned out you decided you would give up on the glue gun, especially now that Luke was in the room. You didn’t need him to see his brothers and Solomon fighting over who got to heal your minor burn.

“Enjoy everyone!” He exclaimed and set the plated gingerbread cookies in the middle of the table.

“These look delightful, Luke.” Simeon complimented and you all reached for one.

You dropped the cookie, surprised it was still so hot.

“Oh no! I’m so sorry ___ they’re still kinda hot!”

Raphael, Solomon, and Simeon eyed each other and you quickly retracted your hand.

Luke got up from his seat and rushed over to you. He held your hand and mumbled words of healing over it, the slight heat immediately faded and you grinned.

“You’re the best Luke!” You cheered and kissed his forehead.

He blushed and pulled down his hat, “Y-yeah. It’s no problem!”

Solomon, Raphael, and Simeon appeared to sulk for a minute and inwardly scolded themselves for being jealous of a child. You snickered at their reactions and they quickly diverted their attention to the crafts.

“Oooh, who made this one!?” Luke asked as he held up a carved figure of Mary with a real cloth dress around her.

Raphael smiled and raised his hand slightly, just enough for Luke to notice and praise his hard work.

You looked at your overjoyed foam in contrast and sighed. You tried not to be jealous. After all these angels had thousands of years on you and so did the supposed human, Solomon.

Luke looked over the others and stared at yours with concern. “What smells like burnt flesh?”

You blushed and Solomon coughed to disguise a small laugh as you glared at him. This only made him laugh harder and Luke looked concerned.

“What? What happened?”

Simeon smiled somewhat sadly, “___ has had their glue gun privileges revoked,” he explained and Luke looked alarmed.

“Oh no! Are you okay, ___ you really need to be more careful! The glue gun is really hot!” He exclaimed and you turned red.

Luke may be thousands of years old but he was still a child and here you were a mildly responsible adult being told off by him for improper handling of a glue gun.

Luke quickly joined in the craft activities, excitedly kicking his feet as everyone smiled his way, focused more on him instead of their own projects.

You made more farm animals and handed them to Simeon to glue who would quickly set down what he was doing to handle it for you before you got impatient. Luke thought this was sweet but Raphael found it concerning and Solomon just snickered at you.

“What kind of ornaments are normal in the human world?” Raphael asked you after completing every single person and animal involved in the Christmas story.

“Umm well…red balls and golden balls are pretty normal. Santa is a big one of course but there are really random ones too.”

Raphael tilted his head curiously. “Oh? Like what?”

“Well, one time they were selling ornaments that looked like sticks of butter at a bookstore. There were also candy bars, beer, boots…lots of stuff.” You explained and he looked puzzled.

“And that’s…normal for Christmas in the human world?”

“Ornaments are about self-expression a lot of the time. My ornaments tell a story of my interests through the years. Things I liked as a kid to the modern day. It’s funny, almost none of it stayed the same year to year. One year was Care Bears, then NASCAR, then Starwars, that kind of thing.”

Raphael smiled at the thought. “In that case, I’d love to see your personal Christmas tree sometime, ___.”

“I’d love to show you! I almost don’t have room for some ornaments, maybe I’ll bring a few here,” you suggested and Solomon nodded.

“___’s childhood ornaments…” he mumbled to himself, his cheeks flushed pink.

“Solomon, why are you turning red?” Luke scolded and Solomon laughed it off and continued on his bizarre ornament instead.

Three hours in and you still had no idea what Solomon was trying to make. He hadn’t finished even one thing and was using most of the ominously glowing materials he’d brought.

“Solomon…your ornament is glowing…” Luke pointed out.

“Mhmm,” was all he had to say in response.

Raphael sighed at the sorcerer’s antics and about twenty minutes later you passed out.

When you woke up Raphael was leaning over you looking worried.

“Thank heavens,” he sighed and shoved his hair out of his face.

“What on earth…” you groaned and Simeon entered the room with a bottle of water.

“Well we found out why they were glowing…” he revealed and you arched a brow as you drank the water. Raphael helped prop you up, holding you in his arms. It was such a surprise you nearly choked on the water.

Simeon’s eye twitched slightly as he explained, “Those…things…were radioactive.”

You began laughing in sheer surprise. “What? Do you have any idea how radioactive something needs to be for you to pass out in its vicinity?” You gasped.

“I thought they’d be fine by now,” Solomon sighed entering the room with a large lump on the top of his head.

Luke puffed out his cheeks, upset with Solomon. He rushed to your side and hugged you. “I’m so glad you’re okay, ___!”

You sighed and rolled your eyes at the whole situation. “Honestly…I can’t even make ornaments without something happening to me…”

“That’s not your fault,” Raphael consoled, “it’s his,” he said with a strong bite to his words as he glared at Solomon.

“Whoops…” the sorcerer shrugged.

“You only lasted as long as you did because of our kisses,” Simeon sighed and Luke shot up.

“Wh-What! Your what!?”

“Oh dear,” Simeon mumbled.

“Really, Simeon…” Raphael sighed.

“Well the cats out of the bag now,” Solomon shrugged as Luke tugged on Simeon’s cape aggressively trying to get more information out of him.

You looked at Solomon who looked sincerely apologetic for once and he slowly reached into his pocket and handed you an ornament. The one he’d been working on.

“Why the f—“ You remembered Luke was next to you. “—uuuudge… would you put it near me!!” You asked him and he chuckled.

“Well, I decontaminated it so…it’s all good now.” He explained and your shoulders relaxed.

You took a good look at the ornament for the first time and smiled. Solomon had intricately placed the rocks together with bits of fabric to make the shapes of you and him together holding a sheep with a Santa hat. You chuckled and smiled at him. “Thank you Solomon… this is amazing.”

Solomon immediately brightened up, believing he was completely out of the dog house and Raphael mumbled something about it but you couldn’t make it out despite being in his arms.

Raphael reached for something behind him and handed it to you. He too had made an ornament of you and him together, both with white wings. You hugged his arms around you and thanked him sincerely. He gave you one of his small and adorably cute smiles as Solomon rolled his eyes.

Before you could set the two ornaments aside another one was placed in your hand by Simeon was a mischievous grin, a sight becoming less rare for him.

Raphael and Solomon looked surprised as you looked over his ornament. He was carrying you bridal style in this ornament and he clearly had a groom’s outfit. You snickered at how obvious he was being and thanked him through small laughs.

He tilted his head, worried you thought it was funny instead but Luke interrupted any questions he had.

“Wh-what’s wrong with you people! ___ have this! This one is normal!” Luke insisted and gave you his adorable ornament.

He’d neatly drawn the five of you on a piece of paper cut out in your shapes with foam clothing on top of you all. It was surprisingly intricate.

“Wow. Luke can use a glue gun,” Solomon said playfully and you glared at him. He laughed and Simeon held back a chuckle as you reached for Luke.

Luke ran up to you and you wrapped your arms around him and ruffled his hair.

“Don’t be jealous of a child…” you heard Solomon whisper to himself as he looked away and this time Raphael laughed, something so rare everyone looked at him in amazement.

“Sir Raphael laughed!” Luke gasped.

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” you laughed and Raphael immediately stopped and sighed exasperatedly instead.

You gently set your ornaments aside and stretched your arms out inviting Solomon and Simeon in for a hug too. You made a sincere wish that moment that days like this would always continue, not just at Christmas but throughout the rest of your years.

[milfsloverblog]

Secret Benefits (part 6)

Sugar mommy!Larissa Weems x fem!reader

A/N: Here it is, after (quite) a long wait. Thank you for your patience! Oh, I actually shed a couple of tears writing this chapter, just warning you guys! I hope you’ll enjoy reading this <3

You couldn’t believe your eyes. So much in fact that you had to rub them to make sure you were seeing straight. Larissa Weems was sitting at your kitchen table.

“Just a second,” you muttered.

You walked to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, not even bothering to use a glass and choosing instead to drink straight from it. You couldn’t remember being that thirsty ever before and the water didn’t seem to help at all.

“I guess we need to talk.” You said as you placed the bottle back inside the fridge.

“Yes, we do. But I don’t think you’re in a fit state to have a serious conversation right now. How’s your head?”

“Hmpf-“ you groaned and looked down, noticing that you were still wearing your outfit from the previous night. You reeked. A nauseating mix of sweat and alcohol.

Larissa noticed the way you stared at your dress and pushed a small sympathetic smile.

“Would you like to take a shower?” She offered.

“I think so, but I’m not sure I’ll have the strength for it.”

“Let me help.” She wasn’t offering this time.

Letting Larissa see you naked would have been a highly arousing thought a few weeks before, but not anymore. Not after what you had done to her.

You closed your eyes as she walked with you to the bathroom, listening to the muffled sounds of her stocking-clad feet against the wooden floor.

“Let me-“ Larissa said when you struggled to reach for the zipper at the back of your dress.

She carefully unzipped it and you heard her breath hitch in her throat.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Larissa quickly answered.

A bitter iron taste filled her mouth as she bit down on her tongue at the sight of the bruises on your spine. She would make that man pay. She didn’t know how yet, but she would.

She helped you step out of the dress that was pooling at your feet before her hands moved to unclasp your bra until she suddenly stopped herself.

“Are you alright with me removing your underwear?” She asked.

You stayed quiet for a few seconds. She was asking for your consent. You had treated her like shit and still, she was showing you sympathy.

“Yes.”

Larissa gave a small nod and unclasped your bra before removing your panties, making a point of keeping her eyes off your body as she did so.

“There,” she said, gesturing towards the shower.

She turned the water on and made sure it was at a nice temperature before letting you in.

You sighed with relief as you stepped under the warm water jet, the gentle pressure massaging your back.

“Should we start with your hair?” Larissa offered, to which you answered with a nod.

Having her hands in your hair would feel less awkward than on your body to start with.

She rolled up her sleeves and poured some shampoo in her hands, waiting for you to turn around before applying it to your hair. She was gentle with her movements, her fingertips massaging your scalp and making sure to thoroughly wash your hair.

You were lost in your thoughts when Larissa suddenly started humming a song, a soft melody that immediately made a lump grow in your throat. You felt like a child. For a moment you were sent back to your childhood home, sitting in the tub as a little girl as your mother bathed you. It must have been a Sunday, you could still smell the cake that was baking in the oven.

You were brought back to reality by Larissa carefully spinning you around.

“I’ll wash your body now if that’s alright.” She waited until you gave another nod before starting to wash your shoulders. You kept your eyes closed as she carefully moved down your body and Larissa wished she could have done the same. She felt like she was intruding, only adding more weight to what had happened to you the previous night.

You were grateful for the water that was falling down your face for it hid the silent tears that you had been shedding for a couple of minutes.

Your body suddenly twitched as you tried to hold back a sob, making Larissa look up at your face. She stood up from the kneeling position she had taken to wash your legs and gently cupped your cheek.

“Sweetling, are you alright?” She asked.

You only gave a nod as an answer, your throat too tight to say anything.

“Look at me,” she said.

You took a deep breath and opened your eyes only to meet Larissa’s worried ones.

She stepped back as soon as she noticed that you were crying, the warmth of her hand leaving your cheek. Larissa immediately thought that she had hurt you somehow and you watched as her mouth fell open as she searched for a way to apologise.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“What?” She frowned.

“I said-“ You took a deep shaky breath, feeling more tears threatening to spill. “I am so, so sorry Larissa.” You managed to say before bursting into tears and falling to your knees.

Larissa stayed still for a moment, watching your body jolt as you sobbed loudly.

“Oh, sweetling…” She knelt and gently placed her hand on your shoulder.

“N-no!” You hiccuped looking at Larissa. You hid your face in your hands and tried your best to calm your breathing down, Larissa’s thumb rubbing soothing circles on your arm.

“Why are you here?” You eventually managed to say after a few minutes. You didn’t give her any time to answer before you went on. “After what I did to you, why the fuck are you here? Being nice to me and taking care of me when you should be gloating about me getting what I deserve.”

“You did not deserve that!” Larissa said severely, cupping your cheek so you’d look at her. She looked into your eyes for a moment before looking down at her lap. “You don’t wish any ill will on those you love, no matter how badly they hurt you.” She said barely audibly.

Love.

There. She had said it.

Love.

The lump in your throat only grew bigger as you watched her blue eyes get glassy.

“I’m so sorry,” you said again. “If I had known-“You shook your head and burst into tears again, feeling both helpless and hopeless.

“I know.” Larissa nodded and took a deep breath. You don’t wish any ill will on those you love. She carefully wrapped her arms around your body and pulled you close, letting your wet skin and hair soak through the fabric of her dress.

You don’t know how long you stayed there, the both of you kneeling on the bathroom floor until you started shivering and Larissa decided to wrap you in a towel. She picked a pair of pyjamas from your wardrobe and helped you put them on before taking you back to the living room.

“I’ll make you a cup of tea, it might help.” Larissa said as you lay back down on the couch.

“That’s what he said.” You answered after a while, remembering some bits of your night.

“He?”

“The man,” you groaned softly. “The one who saved me… He reminded me of you.”

“Did he?” Larissa asked as she walked back to the couch only to find you hiding under a cushion.

She placed the cup on your coffee table and carefully lifted your head to let it rest on her lap while her fingers brushed through your hair.

“Get some more sleep, you need it.”

“Will you be there when I wake up?”

There was a second of silence before Larissa answered.

“You know I will.”

————————————————————————-

Taglist: @raspburrythief @weemssapphic @readingtheentrails @larissaoftarthweems @principal-weems09 @kimiinou @winterfireblond @im-a-carnivorous-plant @geekyarmorel @h-doodles @azu-zu @barbarasstar @witchesmortuary @m1lflov3rrr @dumbasslesbi @crow-raven-crow @fridays-coven @lilfartbox1 @shawncantwrite @autumn-leaves-chasing-breeze @gwens0girl @aemilia19 @the-bagel24 @lvinhs @thefutureisus2020 @gela123 @a-queen-and-her-throne @rando-mango @wheresmyboo @my-silver-spring @hillary-nicks @ablsk @natasha29romanoff @tallvampirelady12 @canyoufeelmyheartsayinghi @i-love-nerdy-stuff @scarlettssub @jasperobsidian-blog @i-write-sometimes-maybe @brienne-the-brave @slytherinthepms @non-binary-frogking @wife-of-gwendolinechristie @anjo-iludidoefudido @imnotafruitt @opheliauniverse

[aventurineswife]

The characters and their reaction to reader who can't cook to save their lives but insisted on cooking something for the character and ends up burning the shit out of the dish. Will they make fun of their partner (reader)? Or take it upon themselves to teach them? (Diluc, Zhongli, jing Yuan, Veritas, Sunday, Kaveh, and Mualani)

Burnt Beginnings, Sweet Endings

Tags: Diluc x Reader, Zhongli x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Kaveh x Reader, Mualani x Reader, Fluff, Humor, Cooking Attempts, Supportive Characters, Relationship Dynamics, Lighthearted Teasing, Growth and Learning, Positive Reinforcement.

Warnings: Mild Embarrassment, Burnt Food (as a source of humor), Light Teasing (in good-natured fun), No serious negative consequences, Non-malicious humor.

It had been a quiet evening at Dawn Winery, and Diluc was taking a break from his duties as the owner of the estate. He had just finished a long day of work, and his mind wandered toward the warmth of a peaceful dinner. As you insisted on cooking for the two of you, he had agreed with a calm smile, secretly wondering how things might turn out.

You set to work in the kitchen, an excited look on your face, determined to surprise him with your culinary skills. Diluc stood nearby, savoring the quiet atmosphere, but his attention flickered to you as the sounds from the kitchen grew louder. The unmistakable scent of something burning reached his nose, and his sharp instincts kicked in. His gaze softened with a mixture of concern and amusement.

As you emerged from the kitchen, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, holding up a charred, smoke-filled dish, Diluc gave you a small, understanding smile.

"I... might need to have a word with the oven," you muttered sheepishly.

Diluc’s voice was calm, his gaze warm and not mocking. “I appreciate the gesture, truly, but it seems our kitchen may be more temperamental than expected. Shall we try again? I’ve always found that patience and attention to detail work wonders in the kitchen.”

His words were kind, and the slight twinkle in his eyes spoke of the patience he had cultivated over the years. He did not mock you, but rather, he took the opportunity to guide you gently through the process, teaching you the subtleties of cooking. As he demonstrated, his hands moved deftly, the precision in his every action matching his calm, decisive nature. You learned under his watchful eye, and before long, the kitchen smelled of something far more appetizing than burnt remnants.

“Next time, we’ll start with something simpler,” Diluc chuckled softly, his smile just a little more playful as you beamed at the freshly cooked meal. He didn’t mock you; instead, he offered support, a quiet sense of pride in your willingness to try, no matter the outcome.

[Header credits]

Zhongli had always been one for history, tradition, and meticulous detail, so when you insisted on cooking for him, he couldn't help but accept. He had often heard of your culinary attempts, with some stories even reaching the esteemed halls of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, but his curiosity had never waned.

He sat gracefully at the table, his eyes following your every move in the kitchen, intrigued by your efforts. However, as time passed, the subtle sound of sizzling from the stove became increasingly alarming. Zhongli’s nostrils flared as the faint scent of smoke began to waft into the dining room. He remained silent, his brow furrowing slightly, but he made no attempt to interfere.

Soon, you entered the dining room, holding up a dish that looked more like an inedible lump than a meal. You placed it down with a sheepish grin, your hands trembling slightly as you spoke, “I… tried my best. I’m not sure what happened…”

Zhongli glanced at the dish, his lips twitching ever so slightly. “It is certainly… unique,” he said, his voice calm, yet there was a noticeable glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

Instead of teasing, Zhongli gave a thoughtful hum, lifting the dish with both hands and inspecting it. “The earth, in all its complexity, is capable of producing both the most refined dishes and those that... might require further effort. Perhaps a lesson is in order.”

His words were gentle, and with a warm smile, Zhongli took the initiative. He guided you through the steps, explaining each one with his usual calm, patient demeanor, taking care not to criticize but to uplift you. His wisdom in cooking, just like in all other things, proved to be an invaluable asset. Together, you prepared a meal that, although simple, was nothing short of delicious.

As the two of you sat down to eat, Zhongli looked at you with a fond smile. “Sometimes, learning requires more than a single attempt,” he said, his amber eyes twinkling. “But I must admit, your determination is one of your finest qualities.”

Jing Yuan was no stranger to handling complex matters, whether on the battlefield or within the quiet halls of the Xianzhou Alliance. So, when you insisted on cooking dinner for him, he accepted, more out of curiosity than expectation. He watched as you moved about the kitchen, his eyes glimmering with interest, though a relaxed, almost lazy air surrounded him. He leaned back in his chair, his usual carefree demeanor on full display.

The smell of burning quickly filled the air, and Jing Yuan’s sharp gaze shifted to the kitchen. He didn’t rush to intervene, instead watching as the blackened dish appeared before him. You sheepishly placed it in front of him with a nervous laugh.

“Well... it seems I might have gone a little too far this time,” you said, your voice tinged with embarrassment.

Jing Yuan stared at the dish, his lips twitching in a barely concealed smile. “It certainly has character,” he remarked, his voice smooth and full of mirth. “It’s not every day you get a dish that looks like it’s been through an ordeal.”

His response was lighthearted, but there was no hint of mockery. Rather, he gave you a lazy smile, his golden eyes full of warmth and amusement.

“You’ve got the spirit, though. That’s something,” Jing Yuan said, standing up. “Now, let’s make sure the next one doesn’t end up as an offering to the Aeons of the Xianzhou.”

Instead of ridiculing you, Jing Yuan took the time to guide you with a calm and humorous approach. He showed you the steps with ease, explaining everything from timing to temperature. As the two of you worked together, it was clear that his leadership skills extended beyond the battlefield and into the kitchen, as he helped you create a dish that was more than just edible.

As you sat down to eat, Jing Yuan gave a playful wink. “I have to admit, your persistence is impressive. We’ll make a chef out of you yet.”

His words were teasing, but the affection and support in his tone showed that he cared more about the effort you put in than the outcome.

Ratio strode into the kitchen, eyes gleaming with the brilliance of someone who could dissect and understand every subject, no matter how complex. He was, after all, a man who had devoted his life to the pursuit of knowledge. So when you, his companion, insisted on cooking something for him, he couldn’t help but be intrigued—curious, even—about the result. After all, cooking was just another field of study, wasn’t it?

But when the burnt smell hit his nostrils, it was clear that this wasn’t just an experiment in gastronomy; this was a disaster. The dish on the counter looked more like an abstract art piece than any edible creation. He raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a slightly bemused smirk. "Ah. A curious approach to... texture," he said, his voice dripping with dry wit.

He observed the charred remnants of your creation with clinical detachment, yet his eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and curiosity. "I must admit, the process appears to have been... revolutionary in its own right. Perhaps I could impart some of my vast culinary knowledge," he offered, though his tone was far from comforting. "But first, I would recommend not using the fire alarm as a seasoning."

Ratio sighed dramatically, placing his hands on his hips. "You see, cooking isn’t just about throwing ingredients together. It’s about precision, understanding heat and flavor in equal measure. Let me show you the basics."

His fingers deftly moved as he demonstrated each step, explaining the science behind each choice with the sort of thoroughness that would make any student dizzy. By the end of it, you would have a dish that, though far from perfect, had avoided resembling a burned relic. But his expression? It never strayed from its confident, slightly condescending smile. "Next time, though, perhaps we’ll leave the experiments to the laboratories."

Sunday hovered at the edge of the kitchen, his wings lightly fluttering as the scent of something burnt wafted past him. You, on the other hand, stood at the stove, an expression of determination on your face as you stirred a pot that, unfortunately, looked more like a charred disaster than an edible meal.

A wave of concern washed over him, though it was buried under layers of kindness and composure. He approached quietly, his eyes flicking over the wreckage. "I admire your effort," he said gently, his voice soft, perhaps even a little soothing, as though trying to ease the sting of what had clearly been an accident. "But I think... maybe a little too much heat?"

He didn’t laugh, not out of judgment, but because he knew all too well the sting of failure in the kitchen. His own idealism often led him down paths of misplaced hope, much like this. "Cooking is a bit like dreams," he mused aloud, glancing at the burnt dish with a melancholic smile. "You can get lost in the vision, forgetting the necessary balance, the grounded steps. It’s not so different from the ideals we chase, I suppose."

After a beat, he set a hand on your shoulder, his warmth radiating in the form of both physical and emotional comfort. "I can teach you, if you’d like. It’s important to be gentle with yourself. Mistakes happen."

He wasn’t about to make fun of you—his natural empathy and protective instincts wouldn’t allow it. Instead, Sunday took you under his wing, guiding you through the basics of cooking with a patience that only he could possess. You’d learn, slowly but surely, but the real lesson was in allowing yourself room to grow, rather than trying to be perfect from the start.

When Kaveh walked into the kitchen, he wasn’t expecting to be greeted by the acrid scent of smoke and a dish that looked like it had gone through a tragic journey. But there it was, a grim reminder of your overzealous attempt at culinary art. He blinked in surprise before a burst of laughter escaped him—genuine, light, and not meant to hurt, but certainly aimed at your expense.

"Well, this is... something," he remarked with a chuckle, crossing his arms as he eyed the burnt dish. He couldn’t help but smile at the sheer determination in your eyes, but it was hard to hold back the amusement that bubbled up from within. "I’ll give you points for creativity, but I’m afraid this is... quite far from what I’d call food."

Kaveh, while a talented architect, wasn’t known for his culinary prowess. But that didn’t stop him from stepping up. "Alright, alright, let me show you how it’s done," he grinned, throwing a wink your way. "Step one: We don’t turn everything into a charcoal sculpture."

He wasn’t harsh, though—he believed in the power of persistence. As he guided you through the steps, he couldn’t resist teasing you a bit, but in a way that encouraged improvement. "Okay, so maybe don't add that much spice next time. This isn’t a battle for the best ‘flavor explosion,’ it’s more about balance."

Despite his teasing, his care for you was evident as he helped you regain your confidence. Kaveh wasn’t one to just stand by. If you were determined to make something for him, he’d show you the right way to do it, and you’d end up laughing together over the mistakes. By the end of it, your second attempt was... edible, and perhaps even good enough to share.

Mualani was excited. You were cooking for her! The energy she brought into the room was infectious, her eyes gleaming with excitement and joy as she watched you confidently prepare the dish. But when the smoke billowed out of the oven, and the distinct scent of burnt food filled the room, she blinked in surprise.

Then, she burst out laughing. "Oh my stars, you really did try, didn’t you?" Mualani's laughter was bright and free, not mocking, but full of genuine amusement. "It’s okay, it’s okay, we can fix this!"

Her optimism never faltered, not even as she approached the burnt dish with a slightly concerned but ever-cheerful expression. "Well, we can’t eat this, but we can totally try again! No big deal! If anything, you’ve just made it more... interesting!"

Rather than making fun of you, Mualani's immediate instinct was to jump into action. "Alright, let’s start over. Don’t worry about the mess, we’ll turn this into something fun!" Her hands were swift and sure as she set to work, tossing ingredients together with the same grace she used on the waters of Natlan.

Mualani wasn’t a chef by any means, but she was quick to adapt, and she had the patience to guide you step by step. "See? You just gotta go with the flow, like surfing. Don’t force it; let it come naturally!" Her carefree attitude and willingness to help made the situation feel like less of a failure and more of a fun learning opportunity.

And when you succeeded in making a dish that didn’t resemble charcoal? Mualani’s exuberant cheers echoed through the house. "That’s the spirit! We got it! You did great, really!"

[dxxdhood]

take care

pairing: jason todd x gn!reader

summary: when you have a bad day at work, jason knows just the way to help you unwind.

tags: smut (18+), dom!jason todd, sub!reader, fingering, teasing, dirty talk, massages

wc: 2.1k

No matter what you try to tell yourself, you can’t stop crying. Ever since you woke up this morning, it feels like life has been throwing you the worst possible things to deal with– people being casually rude to you, your boss expecting unreasonable amounts of work done. After finally falling into bed, you completely lose it, sobbing so hard your body starts shivering. 

Jason won’t be back for another couple of hours at least, and usually that’s enough time for you to unwind from work, but today you can’t stomach the thought of doing anything. Instead, you slip into sleep while the tears are still fresh on your face. 

There’s a warm pat on your shoulder, and for a second, the bliss of sleep follows you from your nap into reality. But all too soon, you remember the day you’ve had and the tenseness from earlier sinks back into you.

“Hey,” Jason whispers, his hand still resting on your shoulder. “You alright?”

“Yeah– I’m,” You shake your head, stumbling across the half of the blanket that’s made it on the floor as you walk to the bathroom. “I’m just really tired. I’m going to shower, I forgot to earlier.”

You catch Jason’s concerned look from the corner of your eye, but you try not to stress about how you’re worrying him. As soon as the door closes behind you, you grip the bathroom counter and look at your reflection.

You’re so exhausted you look sick, but you don’t want to bother Jason with your own worries right now. When he’s not on patrol, he’s always researching more ways he can stop crime and minimize conflict. Really, he doesn’t have a ton of time of his own to relax, so you really shouldn’t burden him with your feelings. 

After a half-hearted shower, you toss on a T-shirt and shorts before walking towards the living room. Jason’s lounging on the couch, and he waves you over to watch a movie– Pride & Prejudice 2005.

“Oh? What’s the occasion?” You say, trying for cheerful.

“Just thought we could use something familiar,” He says, placing a blanket on top of you before wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“I’m still going to need you to explain half of what’s going on, I can’t keep up with all the characters.”

“That’s why we’re watching it,” He kisses your cheek. “I just tricked you into listening to me ramble about my favorite book.”

You giggle, and for a second you almost feel light enough to enjoy the moment. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re forgetting something, though, and when it hits you, you nearly kick the blanket off of you.

“Shit! I didn’t make anything for dinner!”

“Hey, hey,” Jason moves his hand to rub the back of your neck. “It’s okay, I got something going in the oven.”

You settle back into your place on the couch, but you feel terrible. It was your turn to make dinner today since you got off your shift first. You can’t believe you let yourself fall asleep instead! Jason doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, he just cuddles into your side further as you both watch the camera pan around Elizabeth Bennett. 

Suddenly, it hits you. You know how to make up for worrying him and forgetting about dinner. At first, you subtly try and bring your hand under the blanket, feeling around until you find his thigh. When you make contact, Jason gives you a look, trying to gauge whether or not it was intentional. You give him a cheeky smile as you continue.

Jason settles into the couch, just laying back and allowing you to do what you want, still figuring out why you’re suddenly in the mood. You run your nails against the inside of his thigh, lightly at first before digging in just a little, knowing he likes it a little rough.

You finally palm him through his shorts and he lets out a small gasp. His shoulders seem to fall back and you swear you can see some of the tension Jason always carries around leaving him. Carefully, you wrap your hand around his cock, and you lazily stroke him through the fabric as he exhales through his nose. You’re about to crawl under the blanket to take off his shorts when Jason grabs you by the shoulder and pulls you up to face him.

“Alright, that’s enough of that.”

“Huh? Don’t you want me to,” you gesture to his lap instead of letting your words trip you up. “I mean, I just started now, so I should really–”

“What are you talking about?” Jason shakes his head, his fluffy hair shifts with him.

“Look, I–” You massage your forehead, trying to work through some of your anxiety. “I was going to do something for you, Jason, so just let me–”

Jason slides his hand from your shoulder across your arm until he’s supporting your hand, bringing it in so he can kiss your knuckles.

“You’re always doing stuff for me,” He whispers. “Let me return the favor.”

The speed at which you break eye contact and begin fiddling with the blanket speaks volumes to Jason. You gulp as he lowers your hand, careful not to overstep. You know that if you say the word, the two of you can stop and go back to watching the movie in front of you. But still, no matter how much residual stress keeps bothering you, you want to know what Jason has in mind for you.

“Yes,” you say.

“What?” Jason leans in, not having heard you the first time.

“Yeah–” you try to fight against your own embarrassment at accepting the invitation. “I’d like you to… take care of me.”

For a moment, the two of you sit in silence before Jason bursts into giggles. You have the sense to feel offended, but he quickly wraps his arms around you and rests his head on your shoulder.

“God, lighten up, will you? You sound so serious, it’s not that big a deal.”

Immediately you fail at keeping a straight face, and although you really don’t want to give him the win, you end up letting out a snort.

“Alright, come on,” He taps your back. “Lay on your stomach.”

“What’re you doing?” You ask, even though you’re already maneuvering into position, tossing the blanket off the couch in the process.

“Just trust me, okay? Relax, I’ve got you.”

Jason’s hands are warm when they reach your back. You take in a small inhale, not quite sure what you were expecting. He moves his hands softly at first, just stroking the skin of your back and shoulders to get you accustomed to the feeling. As soon as you start getting comfortable, he starts applying the slightest bit of pressure, kneading at your shoulder muscles.

A sound escapes you that you’re not proud of, and though you’re certain Jason is smirking, you refuse to turn around and see it. Sighing into the couch cushions, you close your eyes and let yourself fade into the feeling. Jason moves downward, massaging your back in slow motions, carefully running his knuckle down the small of your back. It’s incredible, more than, but it doesn’t feel like nearly enough.

“You can press harder, you know.”

He huffs, “See, I was thinking that, but if I hurt you right now I don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself.”

Jason has a talent for saying things like that, things that make you melt no matter what’s running through your head. To his credit, he tries, kneading out all the knots across your back, but still with lighter pressure than you would’ve given to yourself.

“Is that alright?” He asks. “You want me to keep going?”

You hum, already starting to sink into the feeling. Jason continues, hands roaming all across your back. Your eyes start to close and you can feel yourself slipping into sleep before a hand starts to move down your body, gently feeling up your ass.

“Okay?” Jason says.

“Okay–” and as soon as you respond, he kneads the sore muscles in your upper thighs and ass, and although it causes a part of you to completely melt into the cushions, a part of you feels like you’ve just had a fire lit within you.

“Jason,” you start. “If you keep going, I might… uh–”

“No, you can say it,” he whispers as he leans in, covering your body with his own so you can feel his breath across your cheek. “Tell me what I do to you.”

“Shit–” you bury your head into the couch, but Jason carefully sets hand on your head and helps you make eye contact with him. 

“Talk to me,” his voice drops low. “I can’t give you what you want if you don’t tell me.”

He places a hand on top of one of yours resting in front of you. You flip your hand over and interlock your fingers with his. A barely audible exhale escapes from Jason as he gives your hand a squeeze.

“I want you to finger me.”

He’s smirking as he kisses your cheek, his lips trailing lower to your jawline before you even have time to register his movements. It’s like a switch has flipped in him, like he’s finally allowing himself to let loose for your sake. Like all he ever wants is to make you feel good if only you’ll allow him to.

The hand not holding yours moves from your ass to your inner thigh, softly rubbing circles only centimeters away from your slit. He catches you closing your eyes again, getting lost in the comfort around you and he gives your upper thigh a pinch. 

You give a small shout, and Jason uses the opening to slot two fingers in your mouth. He doesn’t even need to give the command, you’re already sucking him on instinct. Always efficient, Jason unclasps your hands to reach for the lube in the side table drawer while you’re distracted. He pulls his fingers from your mouth with a pop.

“Are you ready, baby?” 

“Because I can keep going if you’re not ready–” he pretends, as if he didn’t have a perfect view of your signal.

You nod, but your head is still mostly shoved against the surface of the couch.

“Jason! Fucking go!”

He snickers as lubes his fingers before gently working one in. How typical, even when he’s being nice, he still can’t help but be a tease. His pace is slow but thorough, working himself all the way into your heat before sliding out, only to rush back whenever you seem to get used to the sensation. 

Already being relaxed from the massage must be getting to you, because as soon as you stretch to accommodate his second finger, your breathing starts to quicken. He speeds up slightly, moving to kiss the spot between your jaw and neck, nibbling a small mark despite knowing it’s in the perfect spot to be seen.

He finally starts hitting the spot inside of you where he’s needed, and you almost yelp in relief.

“Faster,” you sigh, and gratefully, Jason listens. He quickens his pace, hitting inside of you with accuracy, and leaning on top of you now to better the angle. You can feel the planes of his chest against your back, and the warmth radiating off of him causes your face to heat up.

“Ah–” you start, and Jason is able to get it out before you can.

“You’re close?” 

This time when you nod your head, he accepts your answer and continues the same speed and intensity. He uses his other hand to grip you by the shoulder and force your head up so he can hear your gasps. Jason moves his head close to your ear again, and you can hear the smile in his voice when he whispers, “Come for me.”

You groan, naturally wanting to bury your cries into the cushions, but Jason’s grip stops you. The casual show of his strength has you thrusting back towards his fingers, and he dutifully works you through your orgasm until you’re finished.

He flips you so you don’t end up falling asleep with your airflow cut off, and under his observant gaze you finally stop trying to cover yourself up. You flash your teeth, and Jason rubs the curve of your cheek with his thumb before slipping off the couch to get a towel to clean up.

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer Park Steve AU part 6

part 1 | part 5

October

It's Wednesday night, which means dinner at the Hendersons. Steve finally decided to show his face — and no, not because Dustin's doorstep song and dance had any effect on him; it was partly because he was sick of hearing muted metal music from across the street and mostly because he hadn't left the trailer in three days and he was starting to feel and smell like shit.

So, anyway. Dinner. Ma Henderson's pulled out all the stops: prepped a homemade lasagna, stocked the fridge with full-sugar sodas and bought the good brand of key lime pie; invited the Sinclair and Wheeler kids to make a little party of it. (Nancy was 'unfortunately too busy to attend,' thank fucking god.)

But then Ma got stuck late at work, so now it's all hands on deck. Mike and Erica are setting the table — Steve can hear Mike bitching at her because she told him the knives go the other way, dumbass; Lucas is at the fridge filling cups with ice and Pepsi and muttering to himself about how much better Coke is; Steve's got an eye on the oven, waiting for the cheese on the lasagna to bubble up juuust right; and Dustin is using "prepping the salad" as an excuse to corner Steve and annoy the ever-loving crap out of him.

“What do you mean it’s hard?” Dustin whines, dropping a handful of shredded carrots into the wooden bowl. “Just talk to him!”

Steve takes a deep breath. Mourns, briefly, for the night he could have had; the girls he could be doing hand stuff with in the back of the Beemer instead of putting up with this kid's shit. “I don’t wanna Just Talk to Him." He bends to peek through the oven door. "And, also: get off my ass about it, alright? I came to dinner, I'm heating up the lasagna. I'm, like, participating or whatever. What more do you want?”

“For you to talk to Eddie! Obviously!" Dustin's tossing the greens so aggressively that it kinda feels like he wishes he was pummeling Steve instead, and when he throws his hands up, little flecks of iceberg lettuce go raining to the floor.

Steve eyes the leafy green confetti. "You're cleaning that up."

"Come on, dude," Dustin begs. "It's been two weeks! What's the point of having friends who are next door neighbors if they refuse to get along?”

Behind them, Lucas supplies in a weirdly strangled tone: “This really doesn’t seem like the way to get him to talk to Eddie."

Thank you. Steve couldn't agree more. He turns to tell him as much and realizes the reason Lucas' voice sounded like that is because he's trying to make one trip to the dining room at any fucking cost. He's got an armful of drinking glasses and three cans of Pepsi tucked under his chin, and he's about to fumble the whole wobbly stack.

"Jesus Christ, man, cut that out!" Steve swoops in to grab the cans before they can join the lettuce shower Dustin just made. He doesn't care how much he loves Claudia, he will leave without helping if they splatter soda all over this floor. Mews the Second can lick it clean for all he cares, he's so for real. "Two at a time," he says sternly, taking the extra cups from Lucas’ hold and handing him back a reasonable amoint. He sends Lucas out of the room with a knee to the ass.

"Hey!" Lucas pouts.

"Hey yourself," he grins.

Lucas sticks out his tongue like a child (because he is one, Steve reminds himself), and when he shoulders the swinging door to the dining room he almost brains his little sister, who makes a graceful side-step and comes strutting through undeterred.

"Are you two nerds done playing good cop, annoying cop with Steve?"

"Ah-!" Dustin gawps. "I better not be the annoying cop!"

"Uh, yeah. Obviously, you are." She props a fist on her hip, a little tyrant in the making, and Steve’s ribs go tender with a fond, vaguely proud ache. He really loves her so much. "Now scram. I need to borrow Steve."

On second thought.

Surely at some point these kids, like, owe him money or some shit for the amount of weary sighs they've caused him to let out. Like, financial compensation for the years taken off his life? Something?

"Yes, Erica?" he asks, nostrils flared; eyes closed.

"You should talk to Eddie."

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ." Steve looks up to the ceiling, pleading for anyone to grant him strength, then he turns to pull the lasagna out of the oven and watches the bubbles sizzle and pop in the hot cheese until he no longer feels like blowing up at a little girl. "Okay. Okay. And I should listen to you because…?"

Screw financial compensation.

He deserves a presidential medal for how calm he's keeping his tone.

Erica's glaring fiercely at him when he glances her way, and why is every kid he knows such a brave, confrontational little shit? "Because," she explains, "He's being mean to my brother."

Oh, fuck no. "What do you mean?" he asks, voice dropping to an urgent hiss as he feels his hackles raise. Like hell is he letting some Billy 2.0 hang around his kids. "Is he, like- Is he saying shit about you guys?"

She spares him from trying to find a tactful way to ask what he's really asking. "No," she says shortly. "But he is being a bastard about him joining the basketball team—"

"Language—" Oh, what's the point.

"—and those two nerds out there? Are obsessed with him. Especially Mike. Like, ob-sessed.” She writes the letters out in the air in front of her to really drive home the point. “Mike likes whatever Eddie likes, so you need to convince Eddie to like Lucas before Lucas loses his friends over this stupid 'jocks versus freaks' crap." She lowers her voice and jabs the skywriting finger into his shoulder hard enough to bruise. "And if you tell Lucas I said any of this? It is on. sight, Steve. I will crush you."

"Jesus Christ."

"So, we good?"

"Uh huh," Steve stammers. "Y-yep. Understood."

Wow. So dignified, Steve. Really loved how you let a ten year old intimidate you. He's saved from any further bullying by the sound of keys jangling in the lock.

"Dusty!" Claudia calls out through the door, "Dustybunny, can you come help? My hands are full!"

In the dining room Steve hears Dustin groan while Mike and Lucas start immediately tearing into him for the name, mocking 'Dustybunny; oh, Dustybun!' in stupid sing-song tones.

"So I'm just gonna..." Steve says awkwardly, inching toward the door. "Go get that."

"Mhmm." Erica gives him an unimpressed look. "You do that."

—

"Oh, Steve, sweetie, thank you!" Claudia says when he opens the door, cheerful and sweet as always. He goes to take her bags from her, but she drops them all at her feet and steps forward to give him a hug, a firm and tender thing that makes an annoying lump form in his throat.

"How are you?" she asks, stepping back to look at him; eyes raking over his face, hands on his cheeks. Really looks. She frowns at whatever she sees. "How's your mom?"

"Can you please just talk to me?" Steve begs, shivering in the hallway because they haven't budgeted for turning on the heat just yet. Wasn't supposed to get this cold for another pay cycle. He tugs the ends of his sweatshirt sleeves. His limbs feel stiff and tense, a budding anxiety like there’s a bomb in the base of his spine.

"Steven, darling, not now," his mother sighs as she sinks demurely onto the couch. "Then when!" he explodes. He doesn't want to yell at her, but, "Seriously, when? When are we going to say anything to each other that actually fucking matters, mom? I feel like I barely even know you anymore!"

"Yes, and I feel a migraine coming on; are you quite finished?"

"….She's fine," Steve answers.

Could be true, for all he knows.

The wrinkles between Claudia's brows deepen, like she wants to press the subject but decides to hold her tongue. "That's good to hear," she settles on after a moment, giving him a gentle pat on the cheek before stepping away with a subtle look that’s not mad, just disappointed.

Steve kind of wants to cry.

"Mom! Food!" Dustin hollers from the other room.

Steve rolls his eyes. "I swear I try to teach him manners."

"Well, good luck with that," she grins, the shadow of tension between them dissipating. Her mood is good like that. Resilient. Strong. Immune to outside force.

Steve’s moods, on the other hand, are more like those stainless steel fridges that promise to remain spotless but then end up covered in grubby handprints. (Exhibit A: he’s doing it right now.)

Thankfully Claudia’s got enough sunshine in her for the both of them. “Come on,” she says, extending a hand and wiggling her fingers for him to grab hold. “Let's eat."

—

part 7