#children come from that kind of thinking. not to mention how that high pitched baby voice gets so ingrained in her kids they even use it

[spurgie-cousin]

I always wondered how old Janessa was, I thought 3 because she just upgraded to a toddler bed from a cot. She just turned 6. Is babyfication a thing?

I didn't see the toddler bed thing, but yea I personally think Jill babies the shit out of Janessa and all of her younger kids throughout the years. My personal opinion is that she's one of those people who's obsessed with having little babies, and then immediately needs another one when she notices the previous baby start to grow up a little bit (I think a lot of these kinds of moms have like, a baby addiction for lack of a better term lol).

And yes I know youngest children need more attention and care simply because they're younger than their more independent siblings, but the baby talk towards Janessa, Sofia, and even Sadie and Olivia is just ridiculous to me. Janessa is first grade age at this point and it really seems like Jill just refuses to treat her like an actual person because she wants to keep her as the baby. She even called her "baby Janessa" until she was at least 4 or 5, or maybe she still does idk, but I think she infantalizes the shit out of her kids.

[milkywaygg]

The Fly-Cosma ALT Story Pt. 2

After tucking and kissing all three of his children goodnights and feeding Cosmo his last bottle, Linnie sat on the edge of his bed and cried endlessly, allowing the tears to fall freely from his cheeks onto the greenish-blue sheets. He also fought hard to keep himself from staring at the photo of their wedding that rested on his nightstand, as even thicker tears escaped his emerald eyes. Taking off his reading glasses so that all he saw was a blur, Linnie continued to cry, unsure of what to do next.

‘How could I do this to my own wife?’ he thought continuously, blaming himself over and over for everything that had happened. ‘Oh, if only had I just left her alone, she’d still be here. But she really needed to be here. To witness Cosmo’s first steps…oh Nora, I’m so sorry.’

Linnie had thought about turning himself in to Jorge at Fairy World Prison. After all, he technically committed fairyslaughter, even if it was unintentional. But the more he thought about it, the more he kept thinking about his children. He had always promised them that he would always be a part of their lives until the day he died. That he would never leave or abandon them like some parents had done. But if he had gone through with turning himself in, then what would happen to the children? They would be so lost and afraid as they got shipped off to an orphanage or foster home, or something, and to Linnie, that’s basically breaking his promise.

He had also considered sending them to stay with their Aunt Daisy, his twin sister, for a little while before he flew to the prison. As much as he knew she loved her nephews and niece however, Linnie also understood that she had no experience with children and had always wanted to live her life childfree. Linnie didn’t feel that was very fair to her, especially after he had Cosmo not too long ago.

At the mention of Cosmo’s name, Linnie’s thoughts then shifted towards himself and the kids. How was he going to tell them? Chelsea and Cosmo were far too young to understand that their mother was gone for good, and he worried what Darren’s reaction towards the accident would be. It wouldn’t be surprising that Darren would try to blame him or Cosmo, especially with him being the best thing Nora had to a doppelganger.

Turning the light out so that he could be alone with his thoughts, Linnie lied down, not even bothering to get under the covers, and continued to occupy only his side of the bed, despite the now plentiful space. Linnie felt his stomach toss and turn as he repeated the events of today in his head and analyzed all the possible consequences. He never thought for one second to blame Cosmo. After all, he was just a little baby and thought that the wand was a magical toy, and it certainly wasn’t his fault that he was so magically gifted. Yet, with stronger magic, Linnie knew that as Cosmo got older, he was going to be mindful of his education and make sure he gets the help he needs, especially to prevent more accidents like this. Linnie couldn’t bear the thought of losing anyone else, especially any of his children.

Finally, after all his energy had drained out..Linnie finally started to fall asleep, his tear-stained eyes getting heavier and heavier.

  “Chelsea? Darren? Would you both come downstairs for a moment please? There’s something I need to talk to you about.”, Linnie called gently after getting off the phone with Daisy, who urged him to tell them the truth. They were bound to find out eventually after all, and why make it worse by being dishonest. Linnie held Cosmo in his arms gently and sat down on the rocking chair in the living room, while the two older children scurried downstairs, Darren’s hands in the air for some odd reason.

“Whatever it is, I didn’t do shit.”, he said, in his high-pitched voice.

“Darren! Watch you language, please!”

“Why? Mom doesn’t watch hers.”

“Well, that’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about. Here, why don’t you both sit down. I’ve got something…difficult to tell you.”

“What is it, Daddy?”, Chelsea asked as the two of them sat down, the innocent in her eyes just breaking Linnie’s heart.

“Well um….darling….Mommy um…had a bit of an accident and well…”, Linnie stuttered, slightly tearing up but tried to pull himself together for his kids, “She’s not going to be around much anymore.”

“Why? Where’d she go? Did she finally leave us like she said a million times?”, Darren asked, though to Linnie’s surprise, there was no hint of sadness. In fact, his tone seemed somewhat perky.

“No..sh-she died, dear. I’m so sorry.”

Darren almost let out a woohoo. No more bourbon, no more late-night TV, and no more ‘Darren, get your ass down here right now!’s He could finally be a kid and mess up without the fear of being pounded into next week or having to dodge a shot glass just because he ran in front of the TV while a football game was on. Yet, watching as the other three cried slightly, Darren had to hold off the celebrations until he was alone in his room, simply keeping his mouth shut and hugging his father’s leg.

[tobesolonely]

kindergarten teachers

summary: teacher!harry and coworker y/n have a hard time coming to terms with their feelings for each other

a/n: ahhh she’s finally done! i’ve been working on this fic for sooo long and i hope u all like it! big thanks to @queencharry​ for helping me when i got stuck and beta reading, and @behindthatbabyface​ for beta reading as well and giving me feedback!! i appreciate u both <3 enjoy ~11.3k words of some mutual pining and teacher!h interacting with lil kindergarteners 🥺also i am sorry if theres any major grammar mistakes (as always) or crazy typos, i always miss some things when i go back and proofread that im sure i’ll catch later! thank u

warnings: smut, mentions of alcohol 

talk to me about harry and y/n! let me know your thoughts!!

my ko-fi! thank you :)

From the time you were very young, you knew you wanted to be a teacher. One of your earliest childhood memories was going to school dressed up as one for career day. Your usually untamed hair was pulled back into a sleek bun (courtesy of your mother), and you donned a funky baby-pink sweater. For bottoms, you wore the closest thing to a pencil skirt you had in your five-year-old wardrobe. When you look back on the photographs your mother took of you that day, you did not resemble a teacher in any way. You were sure if you had not done your Career Day presentation in front of the whole class, no one would have even known who you were dressed up as.

Once you moved onto college and declared Education as a major, that was when people really started to let you hear their opinions on the career path you wanted to pursue. It seemed like whenever you went home for a holiday, relatives were always in your ear saying, “You know teachers don’t make a lot of money, right? Have you ever considered something in the sciences?”. You always responded, “I know, but what would the world do without teachers?”.

Eventually, you finished your undergraduate career, successfully completed student teaching with the highest praise from your superiors and colleagues, obtained your teaching credentials, and even went back to school to get your Master’s degree. So, it was much to everyone’s surprise when you settled on being a Kindergarten teacher. People assumed that because you completed so much schooling, you wanted to be a university professor. However, the thought never even crossed your mind. You always thought Kindergarten teachers were the most impressionable people out there and knew you wanted to be one.

To you, there was no greater responsibility than that of a Kindergarten teacher. It was your responsibility to teach your students reading, writing, art, and music at the most basic level. You showed them how to play with others, how to be kind, and give them the tools necessary to succeed once they leave your classroom. You were the first teacher your students ever had, so you needed to make them fall in love with school instead of hate it, considering they’d have to stick to it until they were at least eighteen. 

You’ve been a credentialed Kindergarten teacher for the last three years, and you’ve loved every moment of it. You were one of the younger teachers at school, but you never felt left out. Your colleagues were amazing people who often shared tips and tricks they wish they knew when they first started teaching.

Now, you were groggily unlocking the door to your classroom, feeling those first-day-of-school jitters you always felt. You knew kindergarteners weren’t there to harshly critique you. Still, you wanted them to go home and tell their parents about how excited they were to have you as a teacher, not run home in tears. That never happened, of course, but you didn’t want to take any chances. You drop your keys and mutter a quiet, “Shit!” setting your travel mug filled with coffee on the ground and readjust the box of donuts you had for your kids on your hip. As you reach for your keys, you hear a deep voice ask if you need help. You quickly turn around, eyes wide from being startled.

“Oh! You scared me,” you place your free hand over your chest. “But yeah, actually, that’d be great. I’m struggling to get my door open.” The man nods, his own keys he wore around his neck jangling as he retrieves first your keys, then your coffee mug.

“I’m Harry– Mr. Styles, if you want,” he holds your keys out for you to take, your coffee mug still in his large hands. “Uh, I’m the new Kindergarten teacher.” You give him a confused look and trade the box of donuts in your arms for your keys, opening the door. “The last one, Mrs. Brown, I think it was, I guess she decided a few weeks back that she wanted to retire.” You get your door open and walk inside your classroom, turning on the lights. It was a little stuffy, considering you hadn’t been there to open any windows in about a month.

“Oh, that’s right! Welcome,” you give him a warm smile. “I’m Y/N– Miss Y/L/N if you want.” A slight blush appears on his cheeks. “We’re gonna be working together then, it seems. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Mrs. Brown, but it’ll be nice to collaborate with someone closer to my age, you know?” Harry nods, and you realize he still had your coffee mug and box of donuts in his hands. “You can just set that on my desk, thanks for helping out. Would you like a donut?”

“Um, I- it’s okay,” he stammers, setting the items down. “Sorry, it’s just that I’ll probably crash if I have a donut first thing in the mornin’.” You smile at him and move to open all your windows and the back door, wanting the stuffy classroom to air out a bit before the children got here. 

“I totally get that,” you giggle, walking back over to your desk. “Are you excited about the first day? I always get a little nervous. I also talk a lot when I’m nervous, I’m sure you caught onto that.” 

For the first time that morning, Harry laughs. “Yeah, I’m nervous, too. ’ve never taught in the States before, so this is a bit new to me.” He’s playing with the keys hanging from his lanyard. 

“I noticed you had an accent, but I didn’t know if it was weird to ask about it. What brings you to California?” You open the box of donuts and take one out, wanting to eat it before it gets cold, and the glaze hardens.

“Uh, I went to University here, but when I graduated, I decided to go back home and teach for a couple of years. I really missed being here though and wanted to come back, so I got my credentials, and uh, here I am,” he tells you with a grin, and you notice he has deep dimples. 

“Well, we’re glad you’re here,” you tell him earnestly. “The kids are just gonna love your accent, too!” you joke and Harry laughs for the second time that day. 

“If all else fails, ’m hopin’ to charm everyone over with my accent,” he stares at you for a moment before speaking again. “Well, I better finish getting situated. It’s fifteen til, and I reckon the children will be arriving soon, yeah?” He asks. You nod. 

“Best to be waiting at parent drop-off too, there are always a few parents that are just as nervous as their babies, if not more, and could use a quick pep talk.”

“Thanks for lettin’ me know. I was thinking about standing out there anyway, just to make a good first impression.” You take another bite of your donut, giving him a thumbs up. 

“You’ve got this, Harry. I know you’re not completely clueless since you’ve taught before, but I know the first day can be a little intimidating. You know where I am if you need anything.” He gives you a grateful smile, quietly thanking you before turning to walk out the door. You’re left thinking about your new coworker, only being pulled from your thoughts of him when the first bell rings.

“Good morning everyone, my name is Miss Y/L/N. Are you all excited to get this school year started?” A chorus of high-pitched yeses fills the room, and you smile warmly at your class. “I’m so excited that you’re all here! I have a little surprise for each of you!” You grab the box of donuts and walk back to the rug in the center of the room that the children usually sat on for storytime. Little gasps fill your ears, and they all say, “Donuts!” and “Yummy!”. You smile at the kids again, already feeling overwhelmed with how adorable they were. 

“We all get a donut?” one little girl asks, her eyes wide. You nod at her.

“Of course! Everyone will get a donut, sweetie.” You move to get the plastic food gloves you kept so you can safely hand out a donut to everyone. “Okay guys, I’m going to pass a stack of napkins around the room. Take one and pass the stack to the person sitting next to you. Does that make sense?” All the students nod their heads in confirmation, so you grab a stack and hand them to the child sitting closest to you. “Once the last person has their napkin, let me know, and then it’ll be donut time!” You say this over-enthusiastically, and the children squirm in their seats in excitement.

As you go around handing out donuts to each of your students, you learn their names and ask them to tell you one fun fact about them. Most children say things like, “I have a brother/sister!” or “I can run really fast!”, and you find it absolutely adorable. One thing you loved the most about teaching five-year-olds was their ability to think everything was cool. It was comforting to know that no matter what you did, they’d find you cool, and your first-day jitters quickly dissipated. As the children eat their donuts, you read them a story, putting on different voices for all the various characters. You show them how to raise their hand when they have something they’d like to share and remind them to use their “listening ears” when you or one of their classmates are speaking.

When it’s time for recess, you show them how to line up quietly at the door, and assign a line leader and a hall monitor. You remind the children that they will all get a turn at these tasks eventually because it’ll switch every week, and not to worry. As you’re walking down the hall backward (one of your teachers walks that you’d finally perfected), you hear Harry’s voice.

“Okay Room Ten, we’re gonna go out to the playground now, where you all will get to play every recess and lunch. That sounds like fun, doesn’t it?” He asks them, and you hear little voices chattering out to him in excitement. You can’t help but peek into his classroom as you walked by, as his door was open. He didn’t see you because he was busy organizing his class into a straight line, so you keep going. Your class, who, much to your surprise, was walking very quietly, got loud once they saw the Kindergarten play area had a slide and monkey bars.

“We get to play on this?” one of your students, Destiny, questions. 

“Yup! This is a pretty cool play area, isn’t it?” They nod and stare at you, waiting for direction. “Oh, you can all go play and run around, get some of that energy out. When the bell rings, though, I want you to listen to the yard teachers because they’re gonna help get you all lined back up so we can go back inside. Deal?” The children give you nods and thumbs up, and you grin at them, telling them to have fun and be nice to one another. As you’re turning to go to the teacher’s lounge to refill your mug of coffee, you see Harry walking down the hallway with his class, and decide to wait for him. He gives his class the same spiel you gave yours and tells them to “Treat each other with kindness” before noticing you waiting for him.

“Hey,” he gives you a grin, looking far more relaxed than he did when you saw him earlier that morning. “How’s it going so far?”

“It’s great,” you reply, leading him in the direction of the teacher’s lounge. “They’re all adorable.”

“Yeah, don’t know what I was so nervous fo’. They’re great. Also, you’re right,” Harry has an amused look on his face. “The first thirty minutes of ’em bein’ there was just them askin’ me to say things because they think I sound funny.” 

“I told you!” you exclaim, laughing at him. “A British accent is definitely not something we hear every day, not here at least.”

“I figured,” he replies, and silence falls between you. “Where are we going, by the way?”

You stop in front of a blue door and sift through the keys on your lanyard, finally finding the one you were looking for. “Teacher’s lounge. Have you had the chance to check it out yet?” He shakes his head, and you pull open the door after having unlocked it. “After you.” He shakes his head and steps back, signaling you go ahead of him. You quirk an eyebrow at him, and he gives you a defensive look.

“What? ‘M a gentleman. Ladies first,” he insists, holding the door open. You walk inside the room, trying to refrain from rolling your eyes. There aren’t many teachers in the lounge. You figure they all must be in their classrooms, trying to do some last-minute organization and lesson planning amidst the first day of school chaos. However, a few colleagues that you’re rather fond of are in the room, so you take it upon yourself to introduce them to Harry.

“Hello everyone, I hope you’re all having a relaxing morning!” They chuckle lightly at your sarcasm. “I’d like you all to meet Mr. Harry Styles. He’s the new Kindergarten teacher that took Mrs. Brown’s place.” A look of realization washes over all three teachers’ faces, and they warmly greet him. Harry goes around, shaking each of their hands, voice dripping with charm.

“Lovely to meet you all. Looking forward to collaborating,” he tells them quietly. They begin engaging in polite conversation, so you leave Harry’s side, walking over to the coffee station to get what you came for before recess was over. He joins you shortly after, grabbing a disposable cup. “They were a nice bunch.” He mutters, pouring the steaming coffee into his cup. You hum in agreement.

“Everyone here is nice. The lounge is usually much more crowded than this. Everyone else must be in their rooms,” you flick your wrist up to check the time. “We got some time to sit down and breathe for a bit if you’d like? Unless you wanted to get back to your room.”

“‘M in no rush, trust me,” he tells you, flashing you a small smile. “Let’s take a seat.” Harry walks over to an unoccupied couch and sits down slowly, taking care not to spill his coffee. 

“You didn’t want a lid?” you question when you see him struggling. He shrugs.

“Not necessary. Jus’ some extra plastic,” you hum and look down at your lap. You were quickly learning that Harry was not a big talker, and he liked to get his point across in as few words as possible. Him being a Kindergarten teacher contradicted heavily with his rather bashful demeanor, but that just made him all the more endearing to you.

“Do you live nearby, or is your commute long?” you ask him after a few moments of silence. As soon as you ask the question, you internally cringe, feeling like it was too invasive. If Harry thought the question was weird, he doesn’t show it.

“I live in town. I actually walked here today, believe it or not,” he tells you with a chuckle. “Was such a beautiful morning that I figured I should.” Every time you think Harry can’t possibly get any more captivating, he does, and you find yourself biting back a smile.

“How long is your walk?” You cross your legs and then uncross them, a nervous habit that you had. Harry takes a sip of coffee, mulling your question over.

“I’d say it took me about twenty minutes. I was walkin’ at a pretty leisurely pace, though,” Harry shrugs. “How about you? Do you live nearby?”

“I also live in town, but I’m way too lazy to walk, so props to you,” you smile. “The best thing about living around here is seeing your kids out in public. It’s the cutest thing.” Harry smiles, not saying anything else. A silence falls over the two of you again but instead of feeling the need to fill it, you just sit beside him, drinking your coffee. Your mind wanders off to what you were going to do for the rest of the school day, if you had enough groceries in your apartment for dinner or if you should go grocery shopping after work, and if you remembered to pay your bills on time. The bell rings to signify the end of recess, and you jump slightly.

“Ready to go back?” Harry asks, standing up and walking back over to the coffee station. “Think’m gonna get a bit more.” You go to stand by the door, waiting for him to pour another cup of coffee. He quickly rejoins you, and the coffee sloshes a bit, some getting on his hand, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Hope those lil’ buggers got some of their energy out.”

“Right! Mine was even more hyper than they probably would’ve been ’cause I gave them those donuts this morning,” you laugh. “So, for my sake, I hope so too.” When you and Harry arrive back at the Kindergarten play area, your classes are already lined up quietly awaiting instruction, thanks to the yard teachers. You and Harry both thank them and move to stand in front of your kids. 

“Miss Y/L/N,” one of your children calls out from the back of the line. “Can we get more donuts when we go back inside?” You see Harry smile out of the corner of your eye as he’s giving instruction to his class.

“There are no more donuts, you guys ate them all! I have something even cooler than donuts planned for us, though, okay? Now, remember what I told you all about walking quietly, right? Mr. Line Leader, how does your line look? Do you think we’re all set to go back inside?” The child you appointed line leader turns around to look at everyone, occasionally shushing some people. After a few moments, he turns back to you, giving you a thumbs up. 

Harry moves to stand beside you, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Wanna eat lunch together and do some planning? I feel like it would be a good idea for us to be teachin’ the same things, more or less.” Your body feels warm all over, and you just look at him and nod, not trusting yourself to speak. Harry smiles and places a hand on your shoulder. At a normal volume, he says, “See you then, Miss Y/L/N.” 

Upon entering Harry’s room, you’re immediately met with the scent of vanilla and the loud hum of the air conditioning. It was bright, adorably decorated, and surprisingly decluttered. It was the polar opposite of your room, and you found it very welcoming and comforting. “Nice set-up you’ve got going on in here,” you tell him. He jumps in his seat at his desk, not having heard you come in.

“Fucks sake,” he mumbles, face going red. “You scared me. Thanks, though. My sister helped me decorate, I don’t really have an eye for this type of stuff.” He rubs the back of his neck, sheepishly. 

“Well, if you ever need any help decorating for back to school and your sister isn’t around, I’d be more than happy to help.” Harry smiles and suddenly gets up from his chair, offering it to you.

“Please, take my seat. I’ll just sit in one of the kids’ chairs,” he rolls it towards you, and you shake your head, about to object, but he interrupts you. “It’s okay, Y/N. Their chairs aren’t that bad.” You take the seat Harry was just in, mumbling a quiet thank you. He hums and pulls a tiny chair up beside you, legs scraping loudly across the floor. When he sits down in it, you can’t but burst out laughing.

“Harry, that chair is so tiny! Are you sure you don’t want me to sit there instead? You look so uncomfortable,” you tell him in between laughs. “This is your classroom, after all, I’m just a guest.” Harry shakes his head, cheeks flushed.

“It’s okay, Y/N, really. ‘M perfectly comfortable in this lil’ miniature chair,” he looks at the lunch bag you sat on his desk. “What’s for lunch?” You reach for your sack and unzip it, pulling out a pre-packaged salad from Trader Joe’s.

“I’m very lazy when it comes to packing my lunches,” you admit sheepishly, pulling out a fork. “How about you? Did you eat already?”

“Oh yeah, I had a green smoothie. Not a big lunch guy,” he replies calmly. “Wanna get started with planning? I think we only have about thirty minutes left.” He looks down at his watch to confirm the time. Harry opens his planner, and you see pages filled with his neat, blocky scrawl. He jumps right into talking about the ideas he had in mind, excitement filling his voice that you haven’t yet heard. 

The passion and enthusiasm he has for teaching are evident through the way he tells you about the activities he has planned, new materials and teaching methods he wants to try implementing, and things he’s tried before that didn’t work out the way he wanted them to. He asks you for your advice and listens intently when you speak, jotting down notes.

You find yourself having to mentally remind yourself not to stare at him. He was a handsome man– there was no denying that. He had curly brown hair, soft and wild-looking, the most beautiful green eyes you’d ever seen, and arms covered in tattoos. You also noticed he had the tiniest cross on his left hand. You wanted to ask him about it, but you figured that was a conversation for another time. 

“Y/N? Did you hear what I just said,” Harry asks, giving you a concerned look. “Are you alright? I think you just zoned out for a couple minutes or somethin’.” You nod quickly, feeling your palms growing sweaty.

“Oh yeah, sorry, I was just thinking about something I have to do later. What did you just say?” You play off how you were just wholly drooling over your new coworker, feeling scrutinized under his piercing gaze.

“Jus’ got an email from the principal. Said we have a faculty meetin’ after school at three. Wanna go together?” He asks. You know Harry’s asking you to accompany him primarily because you’re the only person he really knows so far. However, it still makes you feel warm and special. “He said we’re gonna go over some planning for the Fall Festival. What’s that?”

“Oh, it’s just the back-to-school festival. It’s adorable,” you explain. “It’s like a mini carnival that we have right here on the playground. Every year they have teachers host booths. It’s a great way to get to meet your kids’ parents and bond with the other faculty.” Harry nods, standing up from the tiny chair right as the bell signifying the end of lunch rings.

“That sounds lovely,” he chirps, smiling down at you. “We’re gonna have the best booth out of everyone Y/N, trust me.” He jokes, the corner of his eyes crinkling. This was the most Harry had talked since you met him that morning and you were enjoying witnessing him open up to you more and more with each conversation shared.

“It is,” you stand up as well, gathering your trash and empty lunch pail. “Thanks for having me, Harry. Next time we can meet in my room. I wouldn’t mind making this a daily thing.” As soon as the words came out of your mouth, you physically wince, figuring Harry had to think you were obsessed with him at this point. He looks down, the corners of his mouth upturned when he makes eye contact with you again.

“I’d like that, Y/N. I’ll actually start bringin’ a proper lunch, so you’re not the only one eating,” you smile. “I’ll meet you in your room after school?” You nod in confirmation, walking out the door in front of him. 

“See ya later.”

“Did everyone have a good day today?” You ask your class, walking backward to the dismissal gate. You’re met with a chorus of cheerful sounding ‘yeses,’ and you place your hand over your heart in a dramatic fashion. “That makes me so happy, everyone! You’re all incredible little people, and I think we’re gonna have a fantastic year. What do you guys think?” The children chatter excitedly, glad to have made it through their first day of school and see their parents on the other side of the gate eagerly awaiting them, cell phones snapping pictures. 

Harry’s already at the gate, waiting for the bell to ring so he can dismiss his class. He’s walking down the line asking each of the children if they see who they’re supposed to go home with, crouching down to their height so they can point them out to him. Some children in his class look a little upset because they don’t see their parents yet. Harry quickly consoles them, telling them they can all play a fun game together while they wait for their ‘Mummies and Daddies.’

You do the same with your kids, and by the time the bell rings and you finish dismissing the ones who saw someone there to pick them up, there was one child from your class who was still waiting and two from Harry’s. He walks over to you, one of their tiny hands in each of his. The boy looks unbothered, but the girl was beginning to cry.

“Hey, Ava, should we ask Miss Y/L/N and her friend if they want to play iSpy with us? The more, the merrier, isn’t that right?” He looks down at her, and she nods, looking down. You figure she’s one of his more shy students he was telling you about earlier.

“Hi, sweetie! I’m Miss Y/L/N, are you waiting for your mom or dad?” She nods, biting her lip. You turn and gesture to your one student who was waiting as well. “Well, so is she! Don’t worry, they’ll be here.”

“I’m Matthew,” the little boy holding Harry’s other hand informs you, shifting from foot to foot. You give him a big smile.

“Hello, Matthew! I love your Spiderman shirt; he’s just the coolest. Jade, do you want to introduce yourself to Mr. Styles, Ava, and Matthew? Remember when we learned about introductions today in class? When you got to introduce yourself to all your classmates?”

Jade nods, a big, toothy grin on her face. “Hi! My name is Jade, and I am five-years-old but my birthday is September 19th, so I’m actually almost six-years-old,” she tells them matter-of-factly. “It’s very nice to meet you!” She adds, remembering the script you gave them earlier. Harry looks down at her, an impressed look on his face.

“Well, it is very lovely to meet you too, Jade! Do we all know how to play iSpy?” Jade and Matthew shout in excitement, but Ava just grips tighter onto Harry’s hand. He looks down at her again. “Do y’ want Miss Y/L/N and I to show you how to play, Ava?” His voice is very quiet, slow, and soothing. She nods, letting go of his hand.

“Well Ava,” you say, looking around for something to start the game out with. “I would say, “I spy with my little eye something green. Then you, Mr. Styles, Matthew, and Jade, would have to look around and name out everything that’s green. If you name something and it’s not it, then I will tell you nope, and you can try again, but if you figure it out, then you’re the winner! Does that make sense?”

She nods, and you see a gleam of excitement in her eyes. “Can I go first?” She asks quietly. You tell her, yes, and she looks around quickly, trying to find something to say. “I spy with my little eye something blue!” She has a triumphant smile on her face, and even though you immediately know she’s talking about the sky and you’re sure Harry does too, you both decide to take a step back and let the children take the game into their own hands.

“Y’know, that lil’ introduction Jade gave was really somethin’. I didn’t even think about teachin’ my kids that. Think I’ll try that out tomorrow,” Harry whispers, craning his neck slightly to be at your ear. You shiver at the feeling of his warm breath against your skin. 

“Yeah, I feel like that’s always a good first day of school activity for them to do. A lot of them have never really been exposed to people outside of their immediate family, so they’re not too sure how to talk to others.” Harry hums, standing back up straight.

“Mr. Styles,” Matthew calls, running over to Harry. “My mommy is here. Can I go now?” Harry nods, telling Matthew to wait for him so he can say hi to his mother. You watch as he walks away, overhearing as he tells the boy’s mother what a great job he did today and how he’s so excited to go through this school year with him in his class. Ten minutes later, Jade and Ava are gone as well, and Harry locks the dismissal gate. 

“I forgot how exhausting the first day could be,” he tells you, letting out a quiet sigh. “Ready to go to that meeting, though? It’s just about three.” You check your watch and see the time read at 2:57 PM.

“Yeah, just let me grab my bag, and we can head over there. I’m really hoping this won’t take too long; I was planning on going grocery shopping after this,” you walk down the hall towards your classroom and feel Harry’s gaze on you.

“Where do you like to go grocery shopping?” he asks after a few moments of silence. “I need to pick up some groceries this week, too. ’ve been eatin’ takeout for the past week, and I’m starting to feel like shit.” You laugh, unlocking your door. Harry stands outside, holding it open while you grab your purse and lunch bag.

“Honestly, I don’t have a preference. I switch it up a lot,” you shrug, making sure all the windows are closed before walking out. “Was there something, in particular, you were looking for?”

“Uh,” Harry scratches the back of his head. “No? Maybe you could text me a list of all your favorite stores, though. Jus’ so I won’t forget.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him, ignoring how fast your heart was beating. “Are you asking for my number, Mr. Styles?”

“I guess I am,” he replies nonchalantly. “We’re gonna be workin’ together a lot. Might as well have your number– if that’s okay, I mean.” He looks down at you.

“Yeah, remind me after the meeting,” you tell him, trying your hardest to play it cool. “Don’t let me forget.”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

“So Y/N and Harry, you two will be in charge of the pumpkin decorating booth? Is that right?” The principal looks down at his notes and then shifts his gaze between the both of you. You both nod.

“Yeah, I’m excited! I think it’ll be a lot of fun,” you reply excitedly. “We can go to the craft store and get a bunch of paints, but where do you think the best place to get the pumpkins would be?” You pull out your planner, ready to jot down any suggestions.

“You two could try going to a pumpkin patch? They’re starting to pop-up around town,” one teacher suggests. “I’m sure if you purchased a bunch and told them it was for a school event, we could get some kind of deal.” The rest of the faculty buzzes in agreement.

“Y/N and Harry, could you get to a pumpkin patch sometimes this week and see if they can give us an estimate of how much it would cost? Then I could let the PTA know.” You and Harry confirm that it will be possible to do sometime this week, and the meeting continues on.

By the time you’re finally free to leave the meeting, it’s already growing dark outside. Harry’s hands are shoved in his pockets, and he’s looking down at his feet. “So–”

“Do you want–”

You both stop, laughing awkwardly. “You go first.” you tighten the grip on your purse.

“Uh, I was jus’ gonna ask if I could get your number now. Yanno, so we can plan when we’re gonna go get all the stuff for our booth? And you still gotta tell me what your favorite grocery stores are,” he has a playful look in his eyes. For the thousandth time that day, your hands become clammy. There was just something about every interaction you had with him that made you so nervous. 

“Oh yeah,” you answer coolly, digging in your purse for your phone. “Just text your number, so I have it.” You hand him his phone, and he stops dead in his tracks, a look of concentration on his face. 

“I can’t walk and be on the phone at the same time,” he mutters when he looks back up and realizes you were watching him the whole time. “I don’t know how people do it.” He hands you back your phone. “What were y’ gonna ask me?”

“I was just um, I was gonna ask if you wanted me to give you a ride home? I mean, since you walked to work today and it’ll be dark soon,” talking to Harry made you feel like a nervous school girl interacting with her first crush, and you hated that feeling.

“I couldn’t ask you to do that–”

“It’s no bother, really,” you cut him off, and you realize you sound a little eager, but at that point, you didn’t even care. “I’m sure we don’t live too far from each other.” Harry looks slightly unsure but nods, and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

“If you’re sure, Y/N. I appreciate it, I owe you one,” he’s following behind you to the teacher parking lot. You silently pray your car isn’t messy inside like it usually is as you approach it. You decide to pick up your pace and walk ahead of him, telling yourself if the passenger side was messy, you’d just quickly throw everything in the back. “Heyyyy, why’re you walkin’ so fast? Are you sure you’ve got the time to take me home?” He takes a few big strides and quickly catches up with your hurried, tiny ones.

“Yeah, of course, I have time,” you respond, unlocking your car as you approach it. “If it’s messy, then just ignore it.” you preface, honestly not remembering the state in which you left your car this morning when you walked into work.

“Don’t worry about it. You should see mine,” Harry jokes, and it immediately puts you at ease. As you’re about to open your door, Harry quickly rushes to your side, opening it himself. “Let me.” 

His hand rests over yours, and you quickly pull it away, your body heating up. “Harry, I’m already right here. I can open my own car door.” 

“I know you can. But I’m a gentle—“ 

“You’re a gentleman, I know,” you playfully roll your eyes and take a step back, allowing Harry to open your car door all the way. You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t flattered and honestly a little bit turned on. He flashes you a smile as you situate yourself behind the wheel of the car and makes sure you’re all the way in before slamming it shut. You see him lightly jog around to the passenger side, and soon enough, he’s beside you, your car immediately starting to smell like his cologne. 

“What music do you like to listen to?” Harry asks, pulling his phone out of his pocket. 

“You ask me a lot of random questions, Harry,” you reply, looking behind you as you slowly back out. 

“Is it a crime to wanna get to know my new coworker?” you can hear a smile in his voice. “C’mon. What’s your favorite music to listen to?” 

You shrug, looking both ways before exiting the parking lot. “Where do you live?” 

“I don’t know my address yet. Just take a left at this light coming up. Favorite music?” Out of the corner of his eye, you see him scrolling through his music library. 

“You don’t know your address yet?” 

“No. I’ll play something random,” he says, tapping his hand on his knee. “You can take a right at that stop sign up there.” You put on your blinker and glance over your shoulder before switching lanes. Harry quickly pairs his phone with your Bluetooth, and a song you’re unfamiliar with blares through your speakers. Neither one of you says anything else, only speaking to each other when he’s giving you directions to his house, and you’re confirming what he said.

After two more songs, Harry says, “S’right up here.” He’s led you to a beautiful apartment complex— one you were looking at when you were moving out of your parent’s home but just couldn’t afford as a new graduate. You expertly parallel park and then turn the car off, a silence falling between the two of you.

“This is a nice complex,” you tell him after a moment. “Really close to school. I see why you opted to walk to work today.” 

“Mhm,” he hums. His seatbelt is still fastened. “I understand if you’re busy, but did you wanna come in?” You raise an eyebrow at him, and he quickly backtracks. “I mean— it’s just— remember the activity you taught your kids today? About introductions? Jus’ wanted to know if you could walk me through it, that’s all.” 

“Oh. Well yeah, I can hang out for a bit.” You unbuckle your seatbelt and reach in the backseat for your purse that you threw haphazardly over your shoulder earlier. 

“Will your boyfriend be okay with you coming in, though?” He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“What makes you think I have a boyfriend?” You’re slightly taken aback and oddly flattered that he thought you were in a relationship.

“I dunno,” his face grows red. “You got all weird when I opened doors for ya. Figured you had a boyfriend.”

“I don’t.”

“Cool.” More silence falls, this time an awkward one.

“Should we go inside now?” you unlock the doors, quickly getting out of the car. Harry follows behind you and waits for you to walk onto the sidewalk before going up the walkway.

“How close do you live to me?” Harry asks, punching in his gate code. He pulls the gate open and gestures for you to go ahead of him. You decide not to comment on it this time.

“A couple blocks away. I could probably walk over here if I was in the mood to,” Harry shuts the gate behind you and walks over to the first set of stairs, taking them two at a time. “I was interested in this complex when I was moving out of my parents’ but I settled on something else.” He hums, stopping in front of the first door at the top of the stairs. There’s a brown ‘Welcome!’ mat outside his door, along with a few potted plants.

“Here we are,” he looks over his shoulder as if he’s checking if you’re still there. “Excuse the boxes. ‘M not done unpacking yet.” He pushes open the door and steps in, quickly turning on the light. You’re met with the same sweet scent of vanilla that’s in his classroom. Considering he was in the process of unpacking, his apartment was reasonably tidy.

“It looks good in here,” your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest. You were in your coworker’s house that you just met that day, and you could already feel yourself developing a crush on him. There was obviously no way you’d let this relationship progress past anything strictly professional, but that didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to admire his beauty.

“Thanks,” he gives you a smile, relief washing over his face. “You can set your bag down if you want. Take a seat, make yourself at home.” He leaves the room, and you hear him rattling around in the kitchen. “Can I get you anything to drink? Wine? Coffee? Tea?”

“Coffee sounds great,” you reply. You set your purse down on his coffee table and sit on the edge of his couch, inspecting his living room closer. There were two books on the table, both flipped upside down as a way to mark his page. There were a few more plants inside, similar to the ones in front of his door. There was a framed picture of him with two beautiful women you assumed to be his mother and sister. Harry comes back into the room a few minutes later, two steaming cups of black coffee in hand.

“Here you are, Miss Y/L/N,” he puts on an exaggerated posh accent, and you giggle.

“Why thank you, Mr. Styles,” you respond in the same voice. “Do you have cream and sugar?”

He wrinkles his nose. “I think I might have sugar. Is oat milk, okay? I don’t have cream.” He goes back to his kitchen to retrieve the items before you can tell him it’s okay, and you’ll just drink it black. You thank him, pouring the tiniest splash of oat milk into your coffee. You can feel his eyes on you as you add a bit of sugar, stir, taste, and then add some more.

“So,” you begin after your coffee is made to your liking. “What did you think about your first day? You can be honest since we’re not on campus anymore.” Harry laughs, looking down at his fingernails.

“Uh,” he starts. You notice he says, ‘uh’ a lot. “It was terrific. Not so sure I would’ve felt the same way if I didn’t have you to help me through it.” 

“We’re partners in crime now, Harry. We’re the two Kindergarten teachers, and you’re the only other person there my age? We’ve definitely gotta stick together,” you give him a big smile. He doesn’t smile back but looks a bit troubled instead. You wait for him to speak, coming to accept that long pauses were just a thing when having a conversation with Harry.

“Y’know how I assumed you had a boyfriend earlier? I thought after I’d said that–– rather I hoped after I said that you’d be like,” he clears his throat. “‘Why, no! I don’t have a boyfriend. Do you have a girlfriend?’” He put on the worst American accent you’d ever heard to imitate your voice, causing you to laugh. “To which I would’ve replied with a simple ‘no.’” 

Now it’s your turn to leave Harry wondering what you’re thinking for the first time all day. You can feel his eyes on you as you look at his couch cushions, noticing a bit of crumbs that you hadn’t seen before. “Are you flirting with me?”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

“You don’t even know me. We just met today.”

“Does that mean I can’t think you’re beautiful?”

You bite your lip, feeling yourself starting to grow a bit turned on by his forwardness. There was a part of you that would risk it all for just one night in bed with Harry because you just found him that attractive. The rational, adult side of you was screaming, ‘Don’t mix business with pleasure!’. By now, you had both moved closer on the couch to one another, knees nearly touching. “I think you’re beautiful, too.” He grins, setting his coffee cup down. You do the same.

“Would it be crazy of me to tell you that I really wanna kiss you right now?” His face is mere inches from yours, so close that you could smell the coffee on his breath. You shake your head.

“No. I really wanna kiss you too.”

“C’ mere, then.” 

Harry leans forward a bit more until his lips are ghosting over yours. You pull at the collar of his shirt, bringing his already close body even closer to yours. His lips are softer than they look, and he’s a better kisser than you thought he’d be, too. He brings his hands up to tangle them in your hair, and that’s when you abruptly pull away, not wanting things to go too far. “We shouldn’t…” He looks at you with sad eyes, but he nods, understanding what you mean.

“Probably not the best idea?” his response comes out as more of a question than a statement, but you nod in agreement anyway.

“Definitely not. I’m um–– I’m actually gonna go,” you stand up, slinging your purse over your shoulder. “Thanks for the coffee, Harry. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, see––”

You’re out the door, rushing down the stairs before he can even finish his sentence.

The rest of the school week goes on without either one of you mentioning it. It’s a little awkward for a couple of days, but by the time Friday rolls around, both of you decide the best course of action to take regarding the kiss would be to act like it never happened. 

You’re in your room at lunch hanging up your kids’ artwork they made during their ‘Free Time’ this morning, having declined Harry’s lunch invitation for the fourth time that week. You decided to pretend to be busy with work so you wouldn’t be too tempted to go into his room. To most people, you’re sure it looked like you were avoiding him–– and maybe you were. However, you were trying to get over this crush on him in the best way that you knew how.

“Need some help?”

You jump, nearly falling backward off the stepstool you were on. “Holy shit, Harry! You scared the hell out of me!” You feel your body getting warm, and you quickly look away, not wanting him to see how flustered you were.

“Sorry, you weren’t answering my texts, so I decided to come see what you were up to,” he walks over to where you were standing and hands you a piece of art, smiling at it before handing it to you. “You’ve got some artists in your class.”

“Mhm,” you hum, not looking him in the eyes. You hear him let out a quiet sigh.

“Still able to go see about getting those pumpkins ordered after work?”

You had completely forgotten that you and Harry decided today would be the day you’d go get the pumpkin situated figured out for your booth. For a second, you consider making an excuse to get out of it, but you decide against it. This was something that both of you were asked to do, not just him, and you didn’t want the fact that you let your attraction to him cloud your judgment getting in the way of your professional responsibilities.

“Yeah, that works.”

He doesn’t say anything, and even though you’re not looking at him, you can see the gears in his head turning. “Should we talk––” 

You’re quite literally saved by the bell, the end of lunch interrupting where you knew he was about to lead the conversation. “I’ll see you after school? Did you walk here again? I can drive.” Harry nods slowly.

“Uh, yeah. he replies. “I walked. Uh, ’m gonna go get my kids. See you after school then?”

“Yup!” you respond, fake enthusiasm in your voice. Harry gives you one more look before walking out of your room. You wait until he’s all the way down the hall before following behind him to bring your class back inside. You knew you were the one making things awkward between you and Harry. However, the realistic part of you knew getting involved with your coworker was one of the worst ideas you’d ever had in your life. For now, you’d just tell yourself that you were probably more into Harry than he was into you and pray that would be enough to make you get over your crush.

“I haven’t been to a pumpkin patch since I was a kid.” Harry stuffs his hands farther into his pockets while yours are tightly hugging your chest. You hum, not saying anything. The car ride there was a little awkward, and you were glad it was so short. You could tell there was a lot Harry wanted to say, but you were glad he wasn’t saying it. You keep seeing him glance at you, but you pretend not to notice.

“What size pumpkins should we ask for? Small ones, huh?” Harry nods, looking around in childlike awe. There was a small petting zoo, booths selling warm drinks and kettle corn, and an obscene amount of children.

You walk around together for a moment before encountering a friendly-looking employee who looked like he could help you out. Harry takes over, explaining the situation, and why you need to order one hundred tiny pumpkins. While you’re waiting for the employee to ask the owner if that would even be possible, Harry turns to face you.

“Y/N? Can we talk about what happened on Monday?” you’re about to tell him that you’d rather not, but he continues. “I felt something during that kiss, Y/N. I’m not sure if you felt it too, but I don’t want things to be awkward between us. We have to get through an entire school year working side-by-side, and if you’re not interested, then I respect that one hundred percent, but I just want––”

“So the owner said that is possible!” The employee that was helping you out comes back with a form and clipboard in their hand. “Can you just fill out some information and let us know what time you need it tomorrow? The owner said he could get it delivered and give you guys a discount since you’re ordering so much.”

“That’s great!” you exclaim, taking the form from him. You were glad to have been saved from your conversation with Harry. You quickly go through and fill out everything you can, telling them they can bill your school’s PTA. 

The walk back to your car is silent. You’re replaying what Harry was saying to you over in your head, thinking about what he was going to say before he was interrupted. He opens your car door like he’s been doing, but he doesn’t make eye contact with you or say a word as he slides into the passenger seat.

“Y’can just drop me off,” Harry says quietly. He leans your seat back and closes his eyes. You wait to see if he’ll connect his phone, but he doesn’t, so you turn on the radio at a volume so low it almost can’t be heard. It takes everything in you not to speed back to his place. You just wanted him out of your car. You had such strong feelings for him that it physically hurt, and restraining yourself from telling him how you really felt was growing harder and harder.

“We’re here.” your voice is a little hoarse from not saying anything. Harry slowly opens his eyes and unbuckles his seatbelt, opening the door.

“Right. Thanks for the ride. What time do we need to be at school to set up our booth by?”

“Four. I can pick you up if you want?”

“Yeah. See you tomorrow, Y/N.” He closes the door and walks up to his gate without looking back at you once.

“Hi Miss Y/L/N! Hi Mr. Styles!”

Groups of your students had been coming up to you excitedly all evening. It made you happy to see that the Kindergarten classes were no longer divided. They were starting to hang out with one another. Their parents tell you how their children thought it was just the coolest thing to be on school grounds on a Saturday, and how even though it was only a week into the school year, they were having the best time. It was comments like this that made you fall in love with your job all over again.

Things between you and Harry were going well. It wasn’t awkward, but you think it was because you were both too busy helping children paint their pumpkins. You were glad that Harry didn’t take the bit of downtime the two of you had when no one was at your booth trying to talk about the kiss and instead talked about other random things instead. You find out he loves baking (specifically, bread), he has an obsession with old music, and has about fifty tattoos. He talks to his mom on the phone every day, and he is extremely close to his sister. You tell him about your parents’, your undergraduate experience, your hobbies, and you finally tell him what music you like to listen to.

The festival quickly comes to an end, and you find yourself sad once you and Harry are done cleaning up your booth, knowing that you were just going to drop him off at his apartment and go back to yours to spend another Saturday night alone. You get to his complex almost too quickly, and you almost want to keep going and pretend you accidentally missed it just to be with him a bit longer. Instead, you park.

“D’ya wanna come inside?” He blurts out. Even in the darkness of your car, you can tell his face is flushed. “I mean if you haven’t got plans. I know it’s a Saturday night, so I understand if––”

“Nope, I don’t have plans. I’d love to.” Your hands are shaky as you unbuckle your seatbelt. He quickly gets out of your car and runs around to your side, opening the door for you before you can do it yourself. You almost don’t even notice since it was becoming such a habit.

“I picked up this new bottle of wine a couple days ago that’ve been wanting to pop open. Think we deserve a glass or two after such a long week, hmm?” You wordlessly nod, wholly mesmerized with just how good Harry looked after such a long day of work. His curls fell perfectly across his forehead, his eyes were sparkling and full of excitement. 

“A glass of wine sounds great,” you reply with a chuckle. “I’m ready to drink a whole bottle by the end of the week if I’m being honest.” Harry laughs, quickly punching in his gate code. You could see his hands shaking a little bit, but you decide not to comment on it. He takes the stairs up to his apartment two at a time like he did last time you were there, but this time there’s an urgency and clumsiness to his actions that you haven’t seen before. He jams the key in his lock, quickly shoving the door open.

His apartment is a little messier than it was when you were in it at the beginning of the week, but it’s nothing disgusting. He runs his fingers through his curls, moving aside papers that were scattered along the length of the couch. “Sorry, I was doin’ some planning. Make yourself comfortable.” He disappears to the kitchen, and moments later, you hear the pop of a wine cork and the smooth sound of him pouring the alcohol into glasses.

He emerges from his kitchen, handing you a generously poured glass of wine. “Thanks, Harry,” you tell him before taking a big sip. It was sweet, and while you usually preferred a more dry wine, it was still delicious. 

“Cheers to the end of a successful first week,” he holds up his glass, and you smile, clinking yours with his. “Thanks for helpin’ me get through it, Y/N. Couldn’t have done it without you.” You give him a timid smile.

“Stop, Harry. You’re a great teacher. I can see your kids love you already,” you take another sip of wine. “I kinda do too. I mean–– that came out wrong. I don’t love you, but I do think I like you.” You didn’t know what came over you at that moment, but something told you now was the time to lay it all out on the table with Harry. He sets his glass of wine down, the biggest smile on his face.

“Really? I thought you weren’t interested. Was kinda startin’ to feel like you hate me,” he sounds a little sad. You shake your head.

“Quite the opposite, actually. I’m really into you,” you didn’t even realize how you’d inched your way towards Harry. “I’ve been trying not to think about how we kissed because we shouldn’t, you know? We’re coworkers. I’ve been trying not to think about it all week, though, and I just can’t get you out of my mind.” He stares intensely into your eyes, chewing on the inside of his cheek like he usually does when he’s thinking.

“Can I kiss you, Y/N?” he finally asks. You’re in the same position as you were last time, being mere inches away from the other’s lips. Only this time, you smell the wine on his breath, not coffee. You nod quickly, and Harry cups your face in his hands, hungrily pressing his lips against yours.

“You can do more than kiss me, actually,” you tell him breathlessly. “You can do whatever you want with me.”

Harry raises an eyebrow, a shocked look on his face. “When you say anything…” he trails off.

“I want you to fuck me, Harry,” you tell him bluntly. “Please. Been wanting that all week.” He licks his lips, looking at you in a way he hasn’t yet before. 

“I can definitely do that,” he replies, resting his hand on your thigh. His large hand is dangerously close to your pussy, and you can already feel yourself growing wet. “Let’s get all these clothes off you then, huh?” 

You stand up and quickly start removing your clothes. First, your blouse comes off, and that’s quickly followed by your bra. Harry’s leaning back on the couch, arms resting behind his head. “Enjoying the show?” you ask, quickly pulling down your jeans and underwear. You’re completely naked in front of him in thirty seconds flat, and you reckon that’s the fastest you’ve ever undressed for anything. 

“Very much so,” he mumbles, palming himself over his khakis. “C’ mere, Y/N.” he pats his lap, and you move to sit in it, now straddling him. He softly presses his lips against yours, the hunger that was there just a moment ago completely dissipated. This was a much more hesitant kiss, more gentle and tender. “You’re really beautiful, Y/N.”

You giggle. “I know. You’ve told me that before.”

“I want you to know how much I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

Harry nods. “Can I have a taste of ya now?” you notice that his accent sounds a bit thicker than usual, voice a tad gruffer. You nod, swallowing thickly. Climbing off Harry, you lay back on the couch, situating yourself, so it’s a little more comfortable. He looks into your eyes, placing his hands on your knees. “Is this okay, Y/N?” You nod again, and he removes his hands.

“What’s wrong?” your voice has a hint of desperation in it, but after a week of extreme sexual tension, you wanted nothing more than to cum by the hands of this man.

“Wanna hear you tell me it’s okay. I don’t wanna do anything you don’t want,” he’s looking down at his hands.

“Harry, I wouldn’t have given you a striptease and laid back on this couch for you if I didn’t want it. I wholeheartedly give you permission to do whatever you want with me––”

That’s enough for him. He roughly pries your legs open, immediately licking a long stripe up your heat. You cry out, not expecting him to get right into it. You look down at him and groan when you see he’s making eye contact with you, a smug look on his face. “How’s tha’, love?” You nod, tangling your hands in his curls.

“Yeah Harry, please,” you moan. Harry sucks harshly at your clit, pulling off loudly, the sound echoing throughout his minimally furnished apartment.

“Please what, pet?” He’s looking you dead in the eyes, a devilish grin on his face while his index finger rubs small circles on your clit. Your chest is heaving up and down quickly as you try to calm your breathing down.

“Please make me cum on your tongue, Harry,” you try pushing his head back down to your cunt, but he doesn’t budge.

“Think I rather like hearin’ you beg like this fo’ me. Enjoyin’ watching you squirm like tha’, love.” Just as your about to beg for him some more to feed his inflated ego, he attaches his lips to your clit once more, this time adding his ring finger into your tight pussy. “You’re tight. Sure you’ll be able to take my cock?” His voice is muffled, and you just barely make out what he says.

You clench around his finger, and he laughs, the vibrations sending a new sensation across your clit. “Y’like thinkin’ about my cock, hmm?”

“Yeah, want you in me,” you beg, lifting your hips up. He grips onto your hips tightly, keeping you in place.

“Can feel yeh gettin’ ready for me, darlin’. Think you can take another one?” You nod, and Harry gently places kitten licks on your swollen clit while he slowly pushes his middle finger into you. You feel full in a way you haven’t felt in such a long time, and he only had two fingers in you. Once he pumps his fingers in and out of you a few times, he goes back to harshly sucking on his clit, moaning every so often so you can feel the vibrations against your cunt.

“Fuck,” you’re moaning loudly, and you pray Harry’s neighbors don’t hear you, knowing how thin apartment walls were.

“So fuckin’ wet for me, doll,” he mutters, adding another finger inside you. The burn feels amazing, and you place your hand on his wrist, urging him to go faster. “Gonna cum in my mouth, hmm? Gonna let me feel ya around m’ fingers?”

“Yes, please, Harry,” you feel yourself nearly there, your orgasm threatening to overtake you at any moment. 

“Give it to me then, Y/N. Cum for me,” he demands. As soon as he says those three words, you’re done for, your body going tense as waves of pleasure roll throughout your body. He doesn’t remove his digits from the your cunt until you’re coming down from your high, placing a kiss to your clit. He laughs as you shudder at the overstimulation. Harry places his three fingers that were just inside of you and his mouth and sucks on them, not once breaking eye contact with you. 

“That was really good,” you tell him, crawling on your knees towards him to place a kiss on the underside of his jaw—Harry’s beaming, a triumphant look on his face.

“Not yet. Gotta make y’ cum one more time. I’m a gentleman, after all.” You know he’s messing with you but also serious, so you lean back on the couch, opening your legs once again.

“Are you gonna take off your clothes too? Why am I the only one that’s naked?” Harry laughs, and you hear the clanking of his belt as he undoes it. 

“You’re impatient, aren’t ya?” you nod, and he pulls down his tenting khakis and tight boxers. His cock springs up, slightly touching his stomach, and he hisses at the feeling. “Hold on a sec.” He gets up quickly, and you hear him hurry to what you assume in the bathroom, rummaging around. He comes back a minute later with a box of condoms, making you laugh.

“Is that a new box of condoms? Have you been holding onto those all week, Mr. Styles?” Harry rolls his eyes and opens the box, ripping open a condom expertly with his teeth.

“Weren’t you just the one beggin’ for me, pet? I’d watch it if I were you,” he jokes, rolling the condom onto his hard length. He leans down to place wet, opened mouth kisses to your breasts. “So beautiful.”

“Are you gonna take off your shirt?” you ask quietly. “I kinda wanna see all your tattoos.” Harry raises an eyebrow at you but unbuttons his shirt nevertheless, throwing it into the mess of clothes scattered around the living room. You reach your hand up, shakily tracing the swallows on his chest, moving down to the butterfly across his stomach and finally to the ferns on his abdomen. Harry’s staring down at you, watching as you delicately touch his skin. “You have so many.” you finally say. He nods.

“Yeah. Some of them I just got for the hell of it. Felt like after I got that first tattoo, it was hard to stop.” He caresses the skin on your thighs, and you shudder again. “Gonna let me get inside that pretty lil’ cunt now?”

“Please.”

Harry aligns himself with your entrance and slowly pushes into you, sharply inhaling as you clench around his length. “Relax, Y/N.’ve got ya,” he tells you reassuringly. “Can’t get inside ya if you’re all tense like tha’.” You can tell Harry’s trying his hardest not to absolutely wreck you, the vein in his forehead very prominent from clenching his jaw so tightly. You grip tightly onto his bicep, biting your lip as you adjust to his size. You were so wet and indescribably turned on that you felt every vein his thick cock had to offer, and you knew you wouldn’t last long once he started moving. By the looks of it, Harry wouldn’t either.

“You can move,” you tell him, squeezing your eyes shut. Harry slowly pulls out of you and then ever so gently sinks back inside you, bottoming out. He lets out a breathy moan, moving one of his hands up to tweak your nipples. “Harder, Harry, fuck.” 

He immediately pulls out of you and slams back inside, the sounds of his balls slapping against your ass echoing in the room. You scream in pleasure, no longer caring if his neighbors hear what you two were doing. 

“Like tha’?” He asks cheekily, working up a steady rhythm. You nod, gripping your boobs to keep them from bouncing. Harry shakes his head, forcefully removing your hands. “Nope, none of that. Wanna see ’em.” He takes both of your hands in one of his, pinning them up over your head. His other hand reaches in between your bodies to rub at your clit, and before you have time to warn him, you’re cumming again, squirting all over his cock. 

Harry throws his head back in pleasure, his thrusts getting sloppy and frantic, and you know he’s seconds away from his own orgasm. You spur him on, telling him how badly you wanted him to come inside of you (even though he was wearing a condom). He stills moments later, shaking above you as he holds himself up with an arm, not wanting to collapse on top of you.

“Fuckin’ hell, Y/N. Why did we wait a whole week to do this again?”

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

49%

Title: 49% 

Summary: If there’s one thing that Spencer hates more than rejection, it’s spontaneity. But sometimes the things (and people) we love outweigh the things that we hate.  AKA a series of events leading up to a weekend wedding between the BAU’s finest Dr. Spencer Reid and his partner in crime, Y/N. 

Word Count: 1365 

Warnings: none 

Author’s Note: I hope that you enjoy reading this! I really appreciate all of the support and kind words :) 

49%

Spencer Reid is terrified. Nothing could compare for the pure fear that courses through his veins in this moment. Not even the times he’d run into hostage situations without wearing a Kevlar vest or even in the most lonely parts of his life. He figures that he’s terrified because he has so much to lose. Never in his life did he have someone that loves him as much as Y/N does. And that terrifies him. Somehow, when Spencer is with Y/N he’s simultaneously a man numb with love and a little boy shaking with fear. He knows that he should have gotten over this fear of rejection years ago. He knows that Y/N would never intentionally hurt him. He knows that she loves him more than anything. 

So why? Why is he so terrified to ask her to marry him? Logically, there’s no reason for her to say no. They’ve been together for 3 years, which is long enough at their age to enter into an engagement. It’s not like she doesn’t want to get married; he’s seen her Pinterest wedding moodboard. She talks about their children, almost like they're already here. She wants to get married and she wants to have kids, but the question that bounces around in Spencer’s mind is does she want that with him? 

“Next!” the barista calls Spencer forward to the counter to order. 

“Hi, I’ll have an extra large black coffee with 6 Splendas, and uh, a large iced green tea with honey,” Spencer orders, pulling out his credit card to pay for the drinks. Coffee is probably not the wisest choice, but what can Spencer say the heart wants what the heart wants. 

Spencer awkwardly waits for his drinks, trying to ignore the small box that burns a whole in his pocket. He’d bought the ring a couple of months ago, right after a case that both of them almost didn’t come home, or worse almost came home in a casket. 

“Two drinks for Spencer!” a barista from behind the counter calls, telling him that his drinks are ready. Spencer takes a sip of his coffee, the sweet liquid burning his tongue. Taking a look at the time on his watch, Spencer decides that it’s time to head to the park. 

It’s a short walk to the park, but it seems like it’s the longest walk of his life. Maybe if he wasn’t so nervous or terrified, he'd be able to enjoy how beautiful was. Spencer might be a complete ball of nerves, but he’s a romantic at heart. He wants this to be a perfect start to their perfect life. He finds the park bench that he told Y/N to meet him at. He sits there, waiting for her to show up and waiting for their life to start. 

Spencer’s leg bounces up and down. He should have worn a different pair of shoes. These Converse are so old and ratty, he thinks. He thinks he looks ridiculous in his cardigan and corduroy pants, what was he thinking? He can’t actually expect that she’s going to yes to him. 

While his thoughts are occupied by the constant inner commentary of rejection and ridicule, he fails to her the leaves crunch behind him. His vision goes black when his eyes are covered by a pair of familiar feeling hands. Y/N’s laugh gives it away instantly, but Spencer’s constant vigilance does cause him to yelp in a high pitched squeal. 

“Spencer! It’s me honey,” Y/N says, wrapping her arms around his neck and peppering his cheek with quick kisses. It’s the kind of kisses that say “I’m happy to see you” and “You’re the only one I want to see”. It’s at times like these that he doubts his doubts; maybe he can have faith and hope and lean into the romantic side of himself. The side of himself that sees them walking in the park with a baby stroller, playing on the playset with their children, teaching their kids how to drive in the parking lot and sitting on this bench when their backs hurt all the time and their faces have a few more wrinkles.

“I’d know that laugh anywhere, Y/N” Spencer says, watching her move to sit next to him on the bench. 

“Ohh, thanks for the iced tea!” She says, taking a sip of the cold drink. Even though it’s barely winter, Spencer still can’t believe that she can drink iced beverages in any kind of weather below 50 degrees. He nods and kisses her on her cheek, which causes a small giggle to emerge. Spencer is still kind of surprised that his affections can elicit such happy responses from her. 

“So,” Y/N starts. “Why did you leave our house at 7:00 AM and text me to meet you here?” 

“Umm,” Spencer says, the nerves bubbling to the surface. You can do this, Spencer, he thinks. You can do this, she’s not going to say no. She can’t say no. At this moment, Spencer is really wishing he had his passport with him and a getaway car to jump in, just in case Y/N says no.

“Did you know that only 3% of weddings happen in a courthouse?” Y/N asks at a completely stunned Spencer. 

“Yeah,” Spencer says timidly, not entirely sure where this is panning out, but grateful to listen to his girlfriend. It beats the alternative, him saying something stupid and her laughing at him; him fleeing the state and ending up a magician in a Las Vegas casino. 

“Yes, courthouse weddings are a great alternative, they’re affordable and efficient for couples who just want to get married without all that fuss,” Y/N adds, looking at Spencer. 

She’s profiling you, Spencer thinks. Don’t make eye contact. He knows (and she knows) that the moment he looks into her eyes, he’s done for. Las Vegas here he comes….

“And 51% of marriages end in divorce,” Spencer tells her, before he can even think about what he’s saying. Great he thinks, the day that he’s supposed to propose to her, he’s talking about divorce statistics. 

“You know that I failed statistics in college, Spence?” Y/N asks him. 

“I think I remember you mentioning that,” Spencer says, now thoroughly confused as to where this is going. 

“I have an evil plan to seek revenge against statistics, so I think that it’s my life mission to prove them wrong,” Y/N finishes, pulling something out from her bag. 

Spencer can feel his heart beating in his chest. He’s even more terrified than he was before. Suddenly all those songs that Y/N made him dance to late in the middle of the night make complete sense. 

“But, I also think that it’s my life mission to spend the rest of my life with you, Spence. So, I know that it’s not alway the case for the girl to propose marriage, but I think that you deserve someone to propose to you,” Y/N says, very quickly. 

Spencer sits there on the bench with Y/N sitting right next to him, utterly speechless. Did she just….

“You want to marry me?” Spencer says, dumbly. 

“Of course I do, Spencer! Give me your hand, I got you an engagement ring and-”

Spencer, suddenly fearless, cups her face in his hands, effectively making her quiet. He works on the surge of confidence, leaning in and kisses Y/N on the lips. It’s like he’s kissing her for the first time in his life. It’s like his first kiss ever, but it’s the first kiss of all the kisses of the rest of their life. 

“So I’ll take that as a yes,” Y/N says, breaking apart from Spencer. 

Spencer lets out a laugh, completely forgetting why on Earth he was so scared to propose. 

“So you’re not the only one who had this idea, Y/N” Spencer tells her, reaching into his cardigan pocket. He hands her the velvet box and reveals the vintage ring that he picked out from the second hand jewelry store. 

“Spencer? Is this why you told me to come here? Oh God, I ruined your proposal!” Y/N says, embarrassed that she messed with Spencer’s plans, knowing how nervous he can get. 

“On the contrary Y/N, I’m sure that this is the best possible proposal,” Spencer tells her, as she lays her head against his shoulder. 

“Spencer,” Y/N says, suddenly serious. 

“Yes, fiance?” Spencer teases. 

“How would you like to be in the 3% of marriages? Like as soon as possible. Like tomorrow? I don’t think I can wait another second not being married to you,” she confesses. 

“As long as we’re in the 49%, I’ll do anything you want.” 

[wandering-travesty]

Off To The Races

 Zeke’s life wasn’t supposed to be like this. His father would have a spontaneous brain aneurism if he saw the daily goings on of the younger Yeager’s household on his days off. Horrid amounts of smoking outside, snow or shine, day-drinking without a second thought, and lonely, not by choice. He had honest-to-god tried to live the life his father wanted for him. He married a woman straight out of law school and knocked her up a few months after. They raised that kid for a year then repeated the process. They lived, laughed, and loved for a few years, then, as a surprise to no one, the divorce came along. His wife had run off with a lump sum of money and started a new life out of state. He got left with two kids, substance abuse issues, and a law firm to run. He was stressed, depressed, and by the holiest powers above, was he horny. 

 Ignoring the horniness for a moment, everything changed when you came around. Every inch of his world brightened, almost like a light at the end of a tunnel. You gave him some form of hope, and reminded him that life wasn’t all doom and gloom. You were still in college, looking for some extra funds to help pay your tuition; a lawyer that doubled as a father of two was the perfect target. You had shown up in your prettiest outfit, almost as if you were showing off for him. Being the kind of man he was, Zeke couldn’t help but hire you. Some sweet, fetching little thing coming up to his decadent doorstep in a tiny little tennis skirt and begging to take care of his kids? That was something he could never turn away. 

 So, you became the official caretaker of Zeke’s little angels. You truly adored looking after them while their, admittedly handsome, father slaved away at his big, important law firm. You rang the doorbell right as the kids were waking up, Zeke greeting you at the door already dressed in one of his repulsively expensive suits. You talked over scones and coffee and made the kids just about anything they wanted. He would leave, and you would get the kids dressed and out the door with ample time to catch the bus. You’d clean the house, make yourself some lunch, play with the family dog. The golden retriever was just another cliche. But you still loved the mutt, especially since every family member loved him, too. You could tell because Zeke had named him after some long-dead baseball player, meaning he would be enamoured with the thing no matter what.  

 It was fun, picking up on little details about Zeke, or Mr. Yeager, as you called him. He loved baseball and would talk about it for hours on end if you let him, and he hated strawberry icecream for some unexplained reason. He was the face of success for his entire life, from being a star pitcher on his little league team back home to captain of the debate team in high school; he had never really failed at anything or gotten robbed of what he wanted. He was a winner in everything he had ever tried. He had mentioned how high-strung his parents were, and how they’d gone through a divorce of their own when he was young. He and his step-brother never got along that well, and had actually turned out to be very different people. His family life was anything but smooth, and he feared his kids would look back on their childhood in the same light. You guessed that’s why tonight was happening. 

 “Alright, I’m entrusting my children, dog, house, and painfully expensive belongings to you for the night.” He was dressed to the nines, hell, the tens. He wore an umber sport coat, mustard turtleneck sweater, a thick black belt, grey slacks, chestnut oxfords, and the most expensive golden watch you had ever seen. His flaxen hair shined perfectly in the low light of the entranceway; it was official: you wanted to fuck him. Rather, you wanted him to fuck you. You wanted him to fuck you stupid and make you squirt all over that pretty watch, and his even prettier face. 

 “I’ve got it covered, Mr. Yeager.” His youngest son wrapped his arms around your legs as the dog rubbed his head into your palm. “Knock ‘er dead!” You gave him your cheesiest smile and thumbs up. He chuckled at you as his eldest son grabbed your free hand. 

 “You’ve got this, Dad!” He cheered, starting to drag you to the living room. 

 “Thank you, Atticus. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He gave a weak smile, turning to leave through the large oak door. It was awful, how badly he wanted to stay there with you and the kids. He wanted to chase Atticus down the hall as the rest of you ran after him, laughing all the way. He wanted to put on some old, boring movie only he wanted to watch and feel your breath on his neck as you fell asleep just after the kids and dog sitting on the floor below you. He wanted to feel your warmth in his bed. He wanted to see what you looked like backed up against a wall. Heaving after an especially passionate kiss. With your legs over your head, screaming his name. The sweat dripping down your face as you came undone beneath him. The little whimpers you’d make as he pulled out of you and cradled you in his arms. He wanted you, not this random woman off of some shitty dating site. He didn’t really want the booze, or the men, or the women, or the money, or the white picket fence, or his father’s approval; he just wanted - no - he needed you. Your game of cat and mouse, seeing which playful “sweetheart” or coy little “Mr. Yeager” would be the one to tip you over the edge of more than friends.  

 “Zeke? That’s you, right?” The tall blonde woman in a sleek black suit walked towards him with an outstretched hand. She could’ve easily been a full foot taller than him. Interesting.

 “Yes. Yelena, correct?” But she wasn’t you. He just wanted to get this night of false wining and dining over with so he could come home to you. You in his big, expensive house. Better yet, his big, expensive bed.

 - 

 You sat and watched the clock after the kids went to bed. It ticked and tocked, back and forth, over and over. It had been about an hour since you’d put them down for the night. You couldn’t wait for Zeke to get home for much longer. Butterflies buzzed through your stomach when you heard the doorbell ring.

 “Mr. Yeager?” You opened the door to the sight of your employer with his shirt halfway unbuttoned, glasses falling off his face, and hair an absolute bird’s nest. 

 “Hey, beautiful.” He purred, slumping onto your shoulder, trying and failing to be smooth. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing in my house, huh?” He looked up at you over the rim of his glasses. The way his eyes glimmered a dark shade of teal lit your entire body on fire. Feeling his full weight on top of you only made it spread farther.

 “Babysitting your kids, for starters.” You maneuvered your bodies to have his arm wrapped around your shoulder as you dragged him back into the house. “Apparently I’ll be babysitting you, too.” You mumbled, just then realizing exactly how muscular he was. You sat him down on the leather couch and started to walk to the kitchen to get him a glass of water. You didn’t have much experience with alcohol, but you believed water helped with it somehow.

 “Damn. Loving the view from back here, gorgeous.” He leaned forwards with his elbows on his knees, licking his chapped lips. You jumped at the sudden compliment. You couldn’t remember him being so…dirty before. You walked a little faster than you already were, wanting to get away from him before you made a stupid decision. You poured a tall glass of water, walking back to the couch where Zeke was now lounging, legs spread far enough to leave barely anything to the imagination.  

 “Hey there, doll. Got somethin’ for me?” He giggled, lowering his head from where he had been resting it. His eyes were something to behold, and the deep rooted confidence and downright cockiness behind them only served to make you shiver. You shuffled closer, a bit skittish at the sight of the beast before you. 

 “It’s just water.” You sat down on the table in front of him. “It’s supposed to help with your metabolism, I think.” Your voice was a higher pitch than usual, feeling an odd pressure in your throat every time you spoke.

 “What a smart little thing you are.” He praised. It felt genuine, and you started to feel hotter. You handed him the glass, trying your best to avoid eye contact. He took the glass, and almost as if he had sensed your intentions, took your chin between his fingers and forced you to look into his deep, ocean eyes. He leaned back a bit, giving you a better view of his exposed chest. There was a light layer of golden hair overtop of his expansive chest, and it seemed to trail down the rest of his body. You wanted to find out if that was true. Still holding eye contact with you, he tipped the glass and send the water spilling down his shirt. You knew that wasn’t just drunken clumsiness, but a calculated measure to get in your pants.

 “Whoops.” He said, eyes cold and emotionless as his words. “You better clean that up, sweetheart. We both know I can’t take care of myself in this state.” You moved closer to him, hands unsure of where they were going. You were shaking a bit, and you didn't have a towel on you. You decided the best course of action was to unbutton his shirt the rest of the way. You felt down his chest, gently tugging on his nipples. He let out a soft groan as you continued to feel him up. 

 “You’re gettin’ a little handsy there, baby. You want something from me?” He pet your hair as you moved further down on his chest. You kissed and gave kitten licks, appreciating every inch and curve of his muscular form. You couldn’t get enough of him, try as you might.

 “I fuckin’ knew it.” He pulled you by your hair to force you to look at him.

 “Filthy little harlot.” He squeezed you cheeks, forcing your mouth open. You looked confused until you felt a glob of spit hit your tongue. You swallowed like it was second nature. 

 “You’re just here for my dick, huh?” You continued to kiss and lick down his abdomen, savoring every ounce of him you could; the smell of cinnamon, menthol, and saltwater hit your nose, intoxicating you further and further the more you breathed him in. “I bet it’s all you think about. Especially when those fingers rub that pretty little cunt until you cum all over yourself.” You let out a whine, signifying exactly how right he was.

 “Yeah.” You dragged your tongue up his six-pack, savoring the slightly salty taste. “Think about you every night.” You licked a stripe down the same line you had just gone up. “Only way I can get to sleep.” He smiled the warmest smile you had ever seen him produce. Such a sweet little thing for him, getting off to thoughts of him railing you silly in order to have a good night’s rest. Your submissive, horny mind was so focused on him you couldn’t get to bed without him. You were perfection in human form. Truly a goddess sent from above. He would worship you in the most degrading way possible.

 “I knew you were dirty, I just needed to force you to show me.” He continued to pet your hair like you were some kind of beloved family pet. You felt so small under his touch; so fragile, as if one touch could blow you away forever. You loved the feeling more than life itself. You felt like you could never live without it again. Touching yourself while thinking about him wouldn’t do the trick; not after you had felt the real thing.

 “That’s it, honey, kiss me like you mean it.” He teased, knowing exactly what was running through your head. Sure, he was no master of seduction, but he had bedded plenty before, and he knew exactly how talented he was. He had learned from years of experience; years you hadn’t yet lived. You would learn it all from him. Those little college boys he could smell on you every so often wouldn’t cut it anymore. He was meant for you, and you for him. He knew he already had you trapped, but playing with you was so fun. Poking and prodding and mocking you all while you worshiped him like he had hung the moon in the sky.

 “You love this body, don’t you, slut?” He pulled your hair suddenly, earning a yelp that went straight to his aching cock. “You know, I’ve only been keeping in shape for you. I knew from the moment you saw me that was the main appeal, and lord knows I’d go through hell to keep you around.” That was true. He knew others would settle for mediocrity, but a flawless little angel like you deserved better than mediocre. You needed someone to match your talent, beauty, and wit. He didn’t believe he equaled you in anything but maybe wits, but still, he was good for you. At least, you seemed to think so, considering you were giving tiny kitten licks to the tip of his recently freed dick. The tip was red, swollen, and leaking a sinful amount of precum. You sucked it all up, taking the engorged head between your plush lips. You felt like heaven, but the ache in your pussy felt like hell. You slowly began to go the full length down his cock. Zeke was right: you had messed around with college boys before, but none were as big as him. Your gag reflex wasn’t prepared, causing you to choke and sputter on it. Zeke grinned slyly.

 “Say my name, sweetie.” He wanted to treat you right, but it was so enjoyable to indulge his sadistic side.

 “Mr. Yeager.” You choked out. You knew how much he enjoyed that title; the feeling of authority it brought him made him hard as a rock every time. He groaned in pleasure, sending shivers down your spine. That knocked him off his rhythm for a moment, but he was right back on you the minute he regained some sense of self.

 “The kids are right upstairs, peacefully sleeping, while you choke on my dick like a dumb little slut.” The thought made you feel so dirty. You shifted on the ground, squeezing your thighs together and trying to get some friction. “And you do it so well, baby. I couldn’t ask for better.” He sighed.

 “That’s it, pretty girl, don’t hurt yourself down there.” He slowly pulled you off his cock by your hair. He didn’t want to admit it, and really didn’t show any signs, but you had him on the verge of cumming down your throat. But he didn’t want his precious seed there. Hell no! He wanted you stuffed to the brim and properly bred.

 “I’ve wanted you for so goddamn long, you don’t even know.” The look on tour face was something beyond pleasure or pain. It was a mix of both with a side of...fear? “What, scared of taking something this big, doll?” You shook your head.

 “Don’t worry, daddy’ll get you nice and wet for him.” He slowly came to hover over you, lifting you up and sitting you down on the couch. He spread your legs, undoing the button of your shorts with his long, thick fingers, bringing his mouth to your zipper and pulling it down with his teeth. He pulled them down your legs, bringing his face to your core. You felt hot on his mouth and nose. He licked a wet stripe up your clothed core,

 “God, you taste like honey, sweetie. I’m so fuckin’ lucky.” He pulled your panties to the side, relishing in the sight of your puffy pussy. You were beautiful in the murky yellow light of the room. You folds shimmered with slick and he could see your cunt clench around nothing, so obviously desperate for his dick. That’s right, his dick. Only his. From now on.

 He dove into you, savoring your tangy flavor. Pussy was a taste all its own, each having new, intense, rich tastes he could barely describe. To be perfectly honest, Zeke was a sucker for a wet little cunt in his mouth, and you were the perfect subject. Every suck to your clit, every kiss and lick to your folds, every darting flick of his tongue into your aching little hole; it had you moaning and whimpering like a ditzy little slut. Your mind was hazy with ecstasy.

 “Don’t get too loud now, dollface. Don’t wanna wake the kids now, do you?” His words brought you back to Earth, forcing you to remember you were being eaten out by a father of two. It felt so filthy to know you had been bringing up his kids, acting as a faux wife, and now you were being treated like one, eaten out of your mind and promised a thorough breeding.

 “Not that I don’t believe you would get off on being watched. I bet you love that idea, huh?” You jolted at the words and the sensation of another kiss to your cunt. “It might sound a little sick, but I could invite my brother over, see if he has as good a taste as mine.” He’d be willing to invite Eren over for a test run of…you? You knew they didn’t get along, so it was surprising, but that only turned you on even more. Imaging them fighting over you like hungry wolves on the hunt. They’d ravish you without even thinking. If this was Zeke, held back, on his own, you could only yelp and whimper at what kind of monsters the two of them would be together.

 “Nah, that little shit doesn’t deserve you.” He smirked into your sopping wet core. Eren never appreciated the finer things in life, still to young to understand the joys of pussy eating. No, he was more for the fuck and chuck kind of lifestyle. You deserved better aftercare than a point towards the door. “Some of the guys at my firm, however. Bet they’d turn you out real nice. They’re all just about as big and pent up as me. We could all show you a real good time." That would be about…three, four, even five of him? All fucking you at once with the same vigor and deep seated intensity. You head buzzed at the thought. "You’d like that, wouldn’t you, whore?” You couldn’t keep up with him in this state. You were completely fucked out without even being fucked at all. Before you knew it, you were cumming all over his gorgeous face and beard. He was taken slightly aback, but he licked it all up in five seconds flat. He was a professional.

 “Answer me, doll.” He delivered a harsh slap to your thigh. He enjoyed the ripple it gave and the red mark his hand had left.

 “Yes, Mr. Yeager.” You stuttered out, barely above a whisper. Torturing you would be fun, but not tonight. No, he needed to be thorough with your pleasure and ensure you would never leave his side again. He gave a few light slaps to your slippery pussy, making your thighs shake and mouth move without making a sound.

 “That’s what I fuckin’ thought.” He slowly stood up, giving you a perfect view of the shining god before you. His body was something sculpted by the old masters; a true work of art. Before you could fully appreciate the image of perfection in front of you, he bent down just a bit, pushing your thigs back as far as they could go, squishing your tits under them. He enjoyed the way your pudgier parts stuck out, giving him more parts of you to pinch and suck on as he fucked into you. His was no doubt the biggest cock you’d ever taken, and it wasn’t easy to have inside of you at first. Your walls clamped down on him so tight it was almost painful. But as he slowly pushed in and out, pleasure began to overtake the pain and you started to loosen up just a bit.

 “Just relax, sweetie. Daddy’s got you.” Of course he had a daddy kink. It made perfect sense, as did yours. Hearing him say that in that truly comforting tone made your head spin with pleasure.

"God, you are so fucking tight." He continued to fuck into you at a savage pace, not seeming to care if you screamed or cry, rather relishing in the fact that you were. You were so young and tight and sensitive, it drove him mad. He was sure he could never go a day without your pussy again.

"You fit me like a vice, sweetheart. You trying to milk me dry? Huh?" Your mouth was hanging open, drool spilling out. It gave him ample opportunity to spit in your mouth once again.

"Swallow it you filthy slut." He lightly tapped your face.

"This is exactly how I wanted you." You could barely hear him, blanking out at the intensity of his continuous pounding of your poor little cunt. "Been thinking about this for months."

"Might just knock you up, sweetie. You already take care of my brats so well, what's one more?" You squealed at the thought. He wanted you to have his babies. He wanted you to be his new, permanent play thing to fuck and fill up every night.

"Yeah. I wan' your babies." You slurred your words, inebriated by the feeling of his cock filling your tight little cunt. He gazed down at your fucked out form, finding a sick sense of pleasure in how far gone you were all thanks to him. You moaned far too loud for someone in a house full of kids. You couldn't hold back, he just felt too damn good.

"You gonna cum, little girl?" He had almost a mocking tone when he asked that. You nodded your head, squeezing your eyes shut. He kept up the pace, abusing your g-spot, not letting up for even a second. He set out to make you feel incredible; like the perfect little plaything he knew you to be, and he wasn’t going to let his slightly aged stamina get in the way.

"That's it, you look so pretty, baby. What a good little slut." He looked down at you with heated intensity. "My little slut." He continued his brutal pace almost as if you had never cum at all.

"Oh, 'd you think I'd quit just 'cause you finished? No fuckin' way." You squealed as he continued to thrust inside you, still drunk on the idea of being full of his cum. You wanted him more than you had wanted anything in your life.

"'M gonna make you squirt all over me. Ruin this nice, expensive couch." You were screaming his name at that point, unable to form a thought that wasn't Zeke and his perfect dick.

"Such a fuckin' cocktease all these months. This is what you get for it. Tummy full of my cum." He slowed his pace as he looked into your eyes with the intensity of a man drunk on desire.

"All those times you flipped your skirt up so I could see your cute little panties." He thrusted into you harder than he had before. "All those times you called me Mr. Yeager in that innocent tone that drove me up the wall." He thrusted harder than you had ever thought possible. You felt him hit your cervix. "Every time you acted like you didn't know what you were doing. Like you didn't know what I wanted." He continued to pound into you. You felt so full, so good.

"You're getting tighter, baby. You gonna squirt while daddy fills you up, huh?" His pace was brutal and you were seeing stars.

"That's it, pretty baby, cum all over me. Let me fill you up." He humped into you a few final times before shooting his load into your cunt. You screamed at the feeling of your cum squirting out of you as his cum squirted into you. You were so dizzy and so full. You were happy. You were safe and taken care of and filled to the brim by the man you loved most.

 “Hey.” You saw Zeke’s stunningly handsome face look down at you. His cheeks were flushed, forehead sweaty, sculpted chest heaving. But his eyes were transfixed on you with a look so filled with love and passion it made you feel like you were floating. “How you holding up, princess?” That was a new name…not that you minded. “Didn’t go too rough did I?” He panted in between his gentle words, the main drawback of giving it your all.

 “Actually.” You huffed a bit, just then realizing how difficult it was to talk, or move, or breathe. “Think you coulda’ gone harder.” He chuckled, the same look of complete infatuation lingering in his oceanic eyes.

 “Yeah?”

 “Yeah.”

 “You sure?”

 “I’m tougher than you’d think, old man.” He laughed at you, appreciating how you could still be the sweetest little thing he’d ever met after being pounded half to death.

 “Alright, I’m not even thirty, you little minx.”

 “Calling me a minx isn’t helping your case, Zeke.” His eyes lit up with recognition.

 “First time you’ve called me that, angel.” He smiled like an idiot in love, because he was one.

 “Maybe it’ll be the last, if you keep acting like such an animal around me.” You slapped his shoulder with as much strength as you could muster, which was basically none.

 “Well, if you don’t like the rough treatment, how about I treat you like the perfect angel you are? Treat you to a nice, warm shower and a cuddle session with yours truly. How about that?” He gently rubbed your cheek, taking in how wonderful your afterglow was.

 “Sounds nice.”

 “Alright, let’s go, angel.”

 “Okay, Mr. Yeager.” You giggled at how quickly his face darkened and lips tightened into a frown.

 “Ever the tease, you are.” He carried you to his shower bridal style, no doubt a sign of things to come.

[turntechgoddesshead]

Promise

Hey guys! Remember me? I was the rando that said i was gonna write Sally Face fanfic, wrote one headcanons post and yeeted off the internet for a couple days. Well, i’m back and I did indeed write a thing. This is the beginning of a series, if ya’ll like it that is. I don’t know if this will end up as Larry x Reader or Sal x Reader but hell, i guess we’ll see. Anyways, here ya go!

Also feel free to hit me up for Headcanons, they’re fun warm ups. 

Words: 1624

TW: Mention of animal death, Parents leaving, and Juvy.

Y/n Is a girl and uses she/her pronouns, has freckles and glasses. Sorry haha, i have a hard time not writing in those features bc this did indeed start off as a shameless self insert. Y/N also has two dads bc happy pride month. 

~~~~~~

A tiny cry echoed through the hallways of the labor ward, as a new life had blossomed just merely a few moments ago. Her fathers welcomed her into their lives with open arms and tears shedding from their eyes, as they drank in ever tiny inch of her brand-new body. She was absolutely perfect to them, and everything that they had worked so hard for. Her tiny hand gripped tightly onto the finger of the man who held her, her small green eyes cried tears of confusion as the second man beside her smiled and placed a gentle hand onto the top of her tiny head of H/C hair.

               “She’s so beautiful,” The first man spoke to the other, failing to contain his tears. The nurses watched in silent anticipation as the two finally introduced themselves to the newest member of their family. The woman who sat in the bed, smiled happily watching the two interact with the baby which she had carried inside her for nine months. She was finally meeting the family she forever deserved to be apart of, and the family which she had so graciously chosen to give her baby up to. After passing the baby girl off to the nurses, the two men embraced the woman into a teary hug, thanking her for all of her kindness.

               “Thank you so much, for our little Y/N Moore.”

               Days turned into weeks, which casually turned into months, leading to the sudden and unexpected change that occurs within the years of growing up. Five years into her young life, little Y/N and her fathers moved into their own little slice of heaven, room 402 of the Addison apartments in Nockfell.  They happily lived along with the other residents, making friends with the Johnson family which resided in the basement below. Larry Johnson was the only child of his parents, Lisa and Jim, who was just excited to have another child his age in the complex. The two children eventually became inseparable, always in one room or the other inevitably getting into whatever trouble children at the age of five or six get into. Y/N eventually grew into a worrisome little girl, always anxious over whether or not the duo would get away with their latest antics while Larry easily concocted them in that little brain of his. Three years Into the Moore’s and Johnsons friendship Young Y/N and Larry played outside excitedly with a handful of firecrackers which Mrs. Lisa had brought home. Y/N expressed to the young boy how anxious she was about playing with something which her fathers would inevitably be angry about, but eventually calmed down and began to play after her best friend convinced her it would be alright.

               “Larry, be sure to aim it away from the building!” She told him in between her high-pitched giggles. Snow outside fell from the sky and landed delicately into her hair, just to melt moments after.

               “I don’t think you can aim them He-" Before the boy could finish his sentence, the firecracker went off, flying towards the building and into an open window, before exploding into a flurry of pops and whistles. The sudden silence after the firecracker ceased lasted for only a moment as a sudden screech emitted from Mrs. Gibson, the old woman who resided within the apartment. All color drained from the freckled face of the little girl as she gazed up at the window in horror, listening to the screams of terror and anger that omitted from just a few floors above her.

               “L-Larry,” Larry had cut Y/N off before she could even form words. He gripped her wrist tightly, pulling her out of the sight of the window. Hurriedly he tugged her along to the side of the building so neither of them could be seen, glancing around the corner once for caution, before turning his attention to his friend. Y/N’s face had grown ghost-like as fat tears began to form in her eyes and roll down the center of her cheek.

               “Larry, did we hurt her?” She cried, putting her face into her hands. Her sobs turned into hiccups as she constantly attempted to wipe the water off her face. The pressure of her best friends hands gripping tightly onto her shoulders, suddenly pulled her out of her panicked state. She looked up at Larry who seemed as cool as possible, his eyes were sharp as he looked down at her with determination.

               “No Y/N, we didn’t,” He told her, nodding his head, “You were up in the treehouse by yourself, I asked you to play, and you were angry at me remember?”

               Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat as she realized the weight of the situation, “No, Larry, I can’t leave you by yourself!”

               Larry shook his head.

               “Go sit in the treehouse, and count to a thousand. Once you do, climb down, and go straight home. When your dad asks you what you did, you say you played in the treehouse by yourself,” He ordered her, as though he hadn’t been coming up with this plan on the spot.

               “It’s not going to work!” Y/N continued to sob.

               “Yes, it is! Tell them you were mad because I nocked your glasses off with a snowball! But you didn’t play with me today, promise me you’ll do what I say!” Larry shook her shoulders slightly in desperation, before the girl eventually nodded to him.

               “Good,” Larry sighed, releasing the grip he had on her shoulders. He watched as his best friend turned on her heal and began to run towards the tree house.

               Y/N didn’t hear from Larry for two weeks after that. Her parents kept her at arm’s reach for what felt like an eternity, as she constantly wondered what her friend was up to. Every day she would ask permission to make her way down to the basement to see her friend, and every day she was denied. Weeks turned into months, as her parents protective grip seemed to loosen ever so slightly, reluctantly allowing her to wander the complex on her own after a plethora of begging on the young girls part.  She sauntered through the hallway, her eyes glued to the stained hardwood floor as she walked mindlessly, wondering about her friend who she knew was just five floors below. It wasn’t until the little girl had bumped mindlessly into another person that she was snatched from her anxiety inducing thoughts.

               “Oh, I’m sorry,” She spoke meekly, fixing the round glasses that sat delicately on her nose. Upon looking up, Y/N immediately recognized the woman with long brunette hair and much more empty than usual eyes.

               “Mrs. Lisa!” Y/N replied, her emotions suddenly too much for her small body to handle, “Is Larry here?”

               Lisa looked down at little Y/N almost painfully, her eyes bore dark circles under them, and she held the mop in her hand tightly, “Larry is down in the basement right now Y/N,” She replied calmly.

               Sheepishly, Y/N let out a small, “Oh,” and stared down at her feet as she rocked back and forth anxiously.

               Lisa smiled just a little bit at the little girl and pulled a small card out of the back of her pocket, “Tell you what though, why don’t you just go visit him now?”

               Excitedly, Y/N snatched the card from Lisa’s hand and hugged her with all her strength, excited at the opportunity to see her best friend once again, “Thank you Mrs. Lisa! You’re the best!”

               In a hurry she quickly ran towards the elevator and stuck the keycard in, which allowed her access to the basement. It took her only a moment to get to the apartment that was underground, but when she did, she eagerly ran to the door. Not even bothering to nock, the little girl opened the door and ran straight for the room where she knew Larry was. She opened the door to his room, noticing him laying on his bed with his hands behind his head and bulky headphones covering his ears as his foot tapped ever so lightly.

               “Larry!” She cried excitedly, jumping on top of the poor unexpecting boy, “I’ve missed you so much!”

               Larry scrambled to take his headphones off and toss his Walkman to the side, “Y/N?! Where have you been?”

               “Where have you been?!” She replied to his question, crushing him in the largest hug all while attempting to hold back her cries.

               Larry grew silent, looking down at his hands before looking at Y/N in embarrassment, “The firecracker killed Mrs. Gibsons pet rabbit.”

               Y/N let out a gasp and covered her mouth.

               “And they sent me to Juvie for a couple weeks.”

               “No!” Y/N cried, grabbing his hand in instinct.

               “Y/N I-“ Larry paused, looking at her before sighing, “I think it drove my dad away.”

               Y/N cocked her head in confusion and tightened the grip on Larry’s hand, “What do you mean?”

               “My dad left a couple days after they sent me away,” He confessed, his face burning red in shame. He looked away from his friend and steadied his breathing, as though trying to contain his own emotions, “I thought I drove you away too.”

               Y/N’s heart jumped to her throat as she defensively rose to her feet, “Larry, you couldn’t ever drive me away! Daddy and Papa have been acting so weird and protective, and now I guess I know why… but it wasn’t my choice I promise.”

               Tears fell down her face, but she quickly wiped them from her face and continued to talk, “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, but from now on, we do everything together!”

               Larry smiled at her, pulling her into a hug.

               “You promise?”

               “Pinky.”

[pascalpanic]

Cigarette Daydreams

Pairings: young Javier Peña x young f!reader

Inspiration: Cigarette Daydreams by Cage The Elephant

Summary: Javier drives all night in the rain, wondering what went wrong and where. How he lost you, the one woman he’d ever loved. 

W/C: 5.4k

Warnings: language, talk of death, lots of talk of sexual content but nothing explicit, lots of angst, emotions are running high here, talk of poor mental health. this handles some heavy topics so please be warned. set in the 60s so there’s a really brief mention of being drafted. 

A/N: So this is a song I like but it’s really emotional, as is this fic. I just wanted to explore what Javier would’ve been like when he was young. It’s not necessarily all in chronological order but I kind of think it makes sense... let me know if it doesn’t. thank you to all my friends/beta readers who helped me with this one, like @leonieb, @feelingmadclever, @theteddylupinexperience, and a bunch of others :)

Javier smoked his first cigarette with you. It would become a lifelong addiction: the cigarettes, that is. You, on the other hand, were a yearning he could never satisfy. An addiction is something you can feed; you can dull it by giving it exactly what it wants. Javier wanted you, still wants you desperately. The difference is that he cannot have you. 

It’s been years since he last saw you. Since he last heard your enchanting laugh, smelled the warm scent of your hair product as he kissed the top of your head. He thinks about you all the goddamn time. What life would be like now if you hadn’t gone your own way. He misses you like hell, but he’s sure you’re off and married and conquering the world in your own way. He’s never tried to find out. He’s too scared it’s true. 

-

Laredo was more of the place you told people you hailed from. The name was recognizable, easily: oh, you’re from the place where A&M’s other campus is located? Exactly, you’d respond, and it was much less of a hassle. In reality, you and Javier both grew up in a small community out in the farmlands near Laredo. 

You’d grown up with him. Everyone in the town knew you, and they knew Javi equally as well. He was an interest of your community: from the day you took those standardized tests in second grade, everyone knew that Peñita was going places, but his temper held him back. His emotions consumed him. 

He was blonde as a baby; you’d seen in photos, scattered around Chucho’s house. His hair gradually grew darker as he grew older, and your classmates all teased him. You didn’t remember a time where his hair was lighter than a dark blonde, being a child yourself. But it was an evolution that matched him, you had come to realize in your adult years. 

Not only was he smart, he was a born athlete. Javier was always a bit smaller than the other boys, but damn was he quick. He could run and run and no one could match him. That’s what made him so successful in early football training. From the start, Chucho enrolled him in football, despite Alejandra’s weak protests. She gave in when she saw her baby in a helmet and massive shoulder pads, grinning at her with one front tooth. 

You and Javier were not in the same circles as children. He played with the boys on the field, always the running back when they played football or the offense when they played soccer. He had a temper, though. If there was ever a scuffle on the soccer pitch, you could bet Javier was one of the fighters. You, on the other hand, sat in the shade of the elementary school building, reading book after book. 

His mother was beautiful. She had long dark hair that smelled of something exotic and warm, and she had a smile with a dimple in one cheek. She brought treats to your class on his birthday, which was in November. She read books to your class on her assigned story days, Javier cuddled into her side. He adored her. 

Alejandra Peña died when you were in sixth grade. You can remember the way the class was silent the next morning, Javier’s desk empty. You nearly threw up from the emotion when you heard that she was gone. Your eyes blurred with tears. The loss was inconceivable to your twelve-year-old brain. 

You rode your bike past his house that night. There was a lamp on in the room you knew to be his. His silhouette paced back and forth through the small, second-floor bedroom. You didn’t know what you could do or say, and so you rode off through the neighborhood. 

His hair grew even darker after that. What had been a dark blonde became a light brown as middle school progressed. His anger flared up. He would throw punches when the kid acting as referee made a call Javier deemed to be bullshit. 

You were something different. Javier found you fascinating the first time you truly interacted, seated together for a class. You were fourteen then, his face just starting to grow a bit of dark hair on his jaw. You were absorbed by your books, hardly talking to anyone and even sneaking it under the table during lectures. 

One day, he called your name to catch your attention. You didn’t notice it, lost in your own world. He snatched the book from your hands and slammed it on the table. “Hey. Princesa, we got work to do.”

You frowned. “Give it back, Peñita.”

“Only after we finish this assignment. I don’t want homework tonight.” He stuffed the book in his backpack and tossed you a pencil. 

“I won’t do it until you give it back,” you bartered coolly, crossing your arms and sitting back in the chair. “And I have more willpower than you. That’s a fact.”

He glared at you for a moment, the both of you staring the other down. It lasted quite a while, more than you expected. Javier broke first, handing you your book and grumbling over the worksheet. 

You became better partners after that. Javier even apologized for it two weeks later. You forgave him, and something about his smile made your heart flutter around in your ribcage. 

That started the friendship. You’d walk together in the halls, chatting about your parents and sports and homework for the night. Then middle school became high school and things changed between you, even though nothing you did was different.  

Javier had always been a good athlete. He became the first-string running back for the high school, leading them to state his freshman year. When you walked together in the halls now, there was an expectation from the others. Boys and girls only walked together if they were couples, and a star football player was a coveted date. 

You’d explained that to him. “Javi, as much as I love you, and you know I do, people are gonna think we’re together. I don’t want you to have to deal with that,” you’d pleaded. “I’d be ruining your chances. I think it’s better if we walk separately now.”

Javier nodded. He had to play along. He couldn’t let you know that in the past few months, he’d begun to feel things for you he’d never felt before. He had dreams about you at night, the kind where he’d wake up to damp sheets. He’d noticed your body changing, and his changed too. He thought about you when he’d lie awake at night, his hand in his boxers. The hormones were beginning to pump through Javier’s blood in a way that may have never really ever stopped. 

From then on, you’d walk alone in the hall. Your nose was buried in a book at first, navigating it alone. Then you’d made friends, and you’d talk with people as you slammed your locker shut. You’d give Javier a wave, leading him to be roughhoused by his teammates who took him in as one of their own. 

You became different from him. You were known for being an artist and a writer. You embraced the loving spirit of the 60s’ culture and made warm oil paintings of fields and flowers, wrote poetry that won awards, and even wrote a collection of short stories. You weren’t a hippie, but you were artsy. Javi became a bit of a jock. 

The pressure grew to be too much in the middle of Javier’s junior season. It was the end of fall. You were both 17. You’d stopped maintaining a friendship now, far from as close as you’d been in the earlier days. You waved at him in the hall and that was it. It changed when the stress of being an athlete pushed on Javier’s brain until it popped. He quit the team, spending his time after school in his bedroom at home. He no longer proudly wore the team’s t-shirts or his letter jacket. 

You heard about it through rumors. You didn’t talk to Javier. He kept his head down in the halls now. There were dark circles under his eyes. He’d sit in the library for hours, forcing himself to cram knowledge into his brain. If he wouldn’t be going to college for football now, he figured, he’d better get smart fast. 

You’d sat at a table across the library as you worked on your chemistry homework. You glanced up. Javier looked down. He’d been looking at you. You stared at him until he looked up again. “Can I sit with you?” You’d mouthed, and he nodded. A small smile graced his face. 

Packing up your textbook and papers, you dragged a chair over. “Hi, Javi,” you said. Your voice was quiet and painfully soft. 

He smiles a little. “Hey, princesa.”

It’s quiet for a moment, the both of you staring at your papers and pretending like you were working. You weren’t. “I missed you,” you finally admitted after the silence passed. 

His heart skipped a beat. “I missed you too. Probably more than you missed me.”

You shook your head. “I was wrong. I liked walking with you in the halls. I miss that, I miss us,” you admit, your hand resting over his. He looked up at you with the big brown eyes you’ve always loved, and your smile softened. “Your hair is so dark now, Peñita.”

He nodded a little. “It just keeps going. I don’t know if it will ever stop.”

“You’re funny,” you chuckled and retracted your hand. “How have you been? I heard about the football thing.”

He sighed softly. “It was too much. Not me, not anymore. I hated it.”

“Who are you now, then?” You asked quietly. 

He looked up at you. “I don’t know.”

You’d smiled. “I can help you find out.”

-

That’s how your friendship began again.

It wasn’t a friendship for long, not with how you noticed Javier had changed. His hair was that warm, dark, chocolate color, his nose finally fit his face, he’d grown stronger and leaner and taller. He’d acquired a different sense of confidence, a different posture and walk. But it was clear: he was still your Javi. The one who stole your book all those years ago. 

You’d grown even more beautiful over your time apart, he noticed. You’d become self assured and confident too and it showed. You had a little mean streak, and Javier loved it more than life itself. He got a little weak at the knees when you’d tease him. 

He’d become a social outcast, essentially abandoning his place in the social hierarchy that high schools provide. When you knocked on his door a few days later, Chucho answered, slightly confused. “Hello.”

“Hi,” you said, smiling apologetically. “I’m a friend of Javi’s, I’m here to study with him.”

The older man was a mirror of Javier many years from now. He had a strong nose too, and a worn face. It made lines when he’d smiled. “I didn’t know Javi had many friends anymore.”

You shrugged. “Well, I think you’re right. But… I’m here.”

Javi jogged down the stairs, frowning when he saw his father at the door. You came inside and studied and Javier couldn’t help but to beam at you. Studying wasn’t much of studying. As you’d sidetracked the work and started conversing, Javier leaned in as if he was going to kiss you. You stopped him, but kept his face close. “Not now, Javi. I want it to be perfect. But I do want to kiss you.”

He’d panicked when you’d stopped him, but your words reassured him, and he breathed a chuckle. “Sneak out with me tonight.”

You agreed. 

12:30 A.M. rolled around. You pocketed a pack of your dad’s cigarettes and a lighter and rode your bike to the pond nearby. 

Javier sat there waiting. He was wrapped in a leather jacket, jeans covering his long legs as he sat by the side of the pond. Crickets chirped and birds called and when he looked at you, your heart fell apart in your chest. It never really glued itself back together. Not even to this day. 

You sat next to him, and he put an arm around your shoulders. You couldn’t wait any longer, and you leaned in and kissed him and he was absolutely perfect. His soft lips pressed back against yours, those hands buried themselves in your hair. You broke away a second later and both of you grinned at each other. It was only seconds more before he pulled you in for the second kiss you’d ever had in your life. 

That night was not only Javier’s first kiss but the first time he smoked a cigarette. You pulled one thin stick from the pack and placed it between his lips, lighting the end. 

He was a natural at it, unlike you, who’d tried before and choked and spluttered on the smoke. You were better at it now, able to handle yourself. He breathed in and out and passed it to you, and he looked so effortlessly cool and sexy and beautiful that you didn’t take a drag, you grabbed his face and kissed him again. 

You were so many firsts for Javier. His first kiss, his first cigarette, his first fuck. You’d done it in the back of his truck, on a hot night where you parked in a field far from the town and rolled all of the windows down. You finally got to feel his strong body, got to feel his passion for you as he tugged on your lip with his teeth and pushed inside of you. It was sheer bliss for both of you, even if he never made you orgasm that night. 

It didn’t take long for the two of you to figure that out. Javier was a natural, his hands wandering and feeling everything your body had to offer until they found just the right spot to make you cry his name into the hot Texas night. You snuck out with him often, smoked and fucked in his house when Chucho was gone, or by that pond. 

You talked a lot after. You were the first he opened up to about his mother. He missed her like hell. He told you that he wanted to work in some kind of law enforcement. He thought drug enforcement might suit him. You opened up about your own trauma to him, and he held you as you cried into his body. He’d kissed your forehead and told you he promised that nothing would ever happen to you when he’s around, and it was completely believable because Javier was like some deity to you. He was strong and warm and loving and kind and beautiful and you thought, truly, that he could do no wrong. 

He never betrayed that trust either. Javier was a wonderful boyfriend to you in the daylight hours too. You’d study together, go on bike rides or just drive around in his truck. You spent almost every weekend with him. Chucho adored you too, loved your humor and kindness and most of all, your love for his son. Your family didn’t like Javier much, so you simply avoided your house with him. 

Javier was so proud when he first pulled up your driveway in his truck soon after you began again. He worked for the Villafañes down the road as a farmhand, a summertime assistant to the aging man who lived there. He saved his earnings all summer and split the cost with Chucho. He’d had it for 8 months and it had been on the verge of the junkyard the entire time. 

It was a piece of shit, and you both knew it. It was a deep red, rusty and broken down. The shocks were terrible and made it bounce like a bull in a ring. It didn’t matter, because it was his.

He’d pick you up in that truck and drive all night. The two of you sang along to the radio, then would talk, then make out in the backseat and drive again. You loved Javier, and you admitted it quickly. He said it immediately after you. 

People looked at you like you were crazy when you held Javier’s hands in the hall. Wasn’t he a mental case? Who would give up something like he had, and for no apparent reason? You didn’t give a shit, even if your friends told you Javier was no good. They didn’t know him, didn’t know that his middle name was Fernando and he hated it and that his mother’s favorite gem, ruby, was yours too, that Chucho told you Javi wanted to marry you someday or that Javier loved to nudge your neck with his nose after sex, both of you warm with the hot Texan air flowing through his open windows. 

You told them they didn’t get it, and they said you were the one who didn’t. You’ve got everything going for you. Why risk it with the nut job?

Javier remained a pariah, an outcast, but you didn’t give a shit. You called out his name in the hall and waved, sat with him at lunch and laughed until you choked on the terrible school meal. You were loud and affectionate, and it brought Javi back from the fringes of high school society he’d been banished to. 

Javier worked in fields and barns to earn money, building his muscles. You worked in customer service, building your restraint. Your town had opened a drive-in restaurant a few years before, complete with roller-skating waitresses. Being a skilled skater, you signed up. 

It was fun, but a pain in the ass some days. Customer service was rarely enjoyable. 

The highlight of the summer after your junior year was Javier pulling up to the restaurant every few days. “Peñita!” You’d squeal and put in an order for just what he always wanted- strawberry milkshake, double patty cheeseburger, large fries. 

“Hey, Princesa,” he’d mumble back with a small smile, leaning in for a kiss. He looked like a Texan James Dean, white t-shirt cuffed and worn jeans. His dark hair was gelled back, though much of it fell loose from his long day of hauling crops for Don Villafañe. This coolness was contrasted by his shitty truck, dust caking the windows, and the fact that he was far from blonde now. 

You’d fold your arms over his open window and kiss him, tripping over your skates in your excitement. He’d laugh and tease you, and he’d always give you the cherry off the top of his milkshake. You began telling your coworkers to put two cherries on top, so that he could have one too. He still gave both to you. 

During your senior year, Javier gave you his class ring. It was large and bulky on your fingers, thinner than his, but it made you beam with pride as you walked through the halls. You’d cried when he gave it to you, promising he’d replace it with a diamond someday. You knew it would never last that long. 

Senior year was uneventful. You went to prom with Javier, wearing a peach colored dress. Javier wore his father’s tuxedo with a tie to match your color. The photo was awkward but sweet, the two of you clearly in love. You graduated equally uneventfully, and the two of you spent the night in his truck, out in a field, promising sweet nothings through the sound of skin slapping skin. “Here’s to the class of ‘66,” Javier murmured into your neck. 

You had big dreams, and Javier’s were far different. He planned on attending Texas A&M, not far away. You’d earned a fantastic scholarship at a small liberal arts college in Upstate New York. You both knew these things, but Javier seemed determined to make it work. He knew the two of you loved each other; shouldn’t that be enough?

You felt guilty the entire summer. You had anxiety attacks quite a bit, felt that you were leading Javier on. Then, another part of you thought, he must know. He must not believe you could pull off a long distance relationship with only letters and phone calls. 

Javier passed the summer blissfully unaware. He was young and in love: he thought there was nothing that could go wrong. You still spent time together, more than you ever had, in fact. Something gnawed away at your insides as the time passed. 

On the rare days neither of you worked, you’d find somewhere deserted and sit with your legs dangling from his tailgate. You’d nick liquor and cigarettes from your parents and share them, laughing and talking. Planning a future you knew wouldn’t come. 

The day before you left, you spent the day with your boyfriend. You had a picnic dinner, complete with some stolen beers from Chucho’s refrigerator. You sat on a blanket in a nearby field, watching as the afternoon dwindled down to an orange-hazed sky. 

As the sun set, tears formed in your eyes. “Javi?” You asked him softly, your voice cracking. 

“What is it, princesa?” He returned, pulling you closer into his side. The tall grass swayed around you, and you bit your lip to stop from choking out a sob. 

“I love you, Javier. And I always will.” But as you said the words, your actions said otherwise. You removed your class ring from your finger, placing it in his palm. “But, I think… I think we need to be our own people for a while. Maybe someday we’ll meet again. Maybe things will be different, but I’m going to New York and you’re staying here. Fuck, you could be drafted, and I-“

Javier stopped you, pulling away and looking at you in the face. His eyes showed his heartbreak. “I thought we were gonna get married, be together forever.”

You choked out a sob. “Javi, I want to. I do. But I can’t. I can’t live that kind of life.” You wanted to travel, to do things, to live freely and be whoever you wanted. Javier wanted to stay in Laredo and work in law enforcement. The two weren’t compatible.

“There’s nothing stopping you,” he begged, taking your hand in both of his. “Please, I’d move to New York with you, or you could go to A&M with me, please,” he asked, his eyes welling with tears. “You’re the love of my life, baby.”

You couldn’t look at him. The emotion was too much to bear. “Javier,” you whined and pulled your hand from his. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

His heartbroken stare makes you cry harder into your hands. You stood, ready to find your way to the road and walk home. 

Javier caught you by the waist, then removed your hands from your face. “I-I understand. I do. But… kiss me one last time?”

You stared at him, tears staining your face and his cheeks equally damp. You nodded and Javier cupped your face, kissing you slowly and lovingly. It was tender and bittersweet. It was not the way you’d kiss him at the drive-in restaurant or in the back of his truck. It was not the way you’d sneak a kiss goodbye in front of Chucho. It was desperate. You both knew what it meant. Maybe that’s why it lasted so long. 

You broke away and pressed your forehead to his before finding the dirt road and beginning the walk home. You needed to finish packing, and was getting dark. You didn’t dare to ask Javier to drive you home. You feared you might change your mind if you were around him a second longer.

-

Javier never saw you after that. It was partially serendipitous and partially out of effort. 

When he returned home on winter break or for Thanksgiving, he contained himself to Chucho’s house, or he’d see one or two friends he still had. That was about it. If he knew you weren’t in town, he’d go out and have a good time. It would all go downhill if you were there, and he knew it, so he resigned himself to long nights with his father. 

You wanted to see him again. You drove past his house many times when you were home from New York, seeing the light on in his old room again. Every time, you stopped just a little longer than you should have at the stop sign yards from his house. You contemplated pulling into the driveway and begging him to take you back. It never happened. 

Once or twice, you even caught a glimpse of dark-chocolate hair through the front windows of the house. It made your heart stop and your eyes tear up. 

You moved out of town when you graduated. You started a career near your college, far from your hometown that was almost considered Laredo. Your wish was fulfilled. 

Javier’s was too- well, only partially. He stayed in Laredo. He worked in law enforcement there for a while before he got picked to work with the DEA. It didn’t matter what kind of job he got. He didn’t have you, and that made him miserable. 

You’d been the one to save him. Now he didn’t even know if you still had the same last name you did when he slipped his class ring onto your finger, when he murmured your full name and promised one day that he’d get you a gorgeous ruby and diamond band instead of that class ring and he’d change that last name to Peña. 

-

Javier got a new truck recently. It’s nice. The first car he ever bought that wasn’t used, actually. It’s a deep red, the same color of his first car. Ruby, he named it. 

He thinks about you all the goddamn time. Nothing could change that, not time or hookups. He sighs as he thinks about the years since you’ve seen him, while he drives around in the pouring rain. Why? How?

He never slept around in college, too lovesick and still hoping you’d call and want to meet with him, would want to rekindle what you’d had. 

He forced himself to get moving after that. He had a few girlfriends when he worked for the Webb County Sheriff's Office. He even got serious with one. 

Lorraine was beautiful and kind and funny. He loved the way she’d shotgun a beer and then kiss him, her lips tasting of the fermented liquid. She was a good time, a great partier. He asked her out and things went well, he supposed. 

She wanted different things from Javier. He’d been starting to grow restless, wanting to leave Laredo. Lorraine, however, wanted to settle down. She wanted the whole thing: a big ranch-style, a fireplace in the living room, four or five babies with Javier’s brown eyes, running around and laughing. 

As much as he wanted it, he couldn’t. He nodded along and played the game, telling her that he’d do that for her. He’d provide for her and give her all the kids he wanted. He’d be a good father and a great husband and everything would be good. 

It was more to himself that he said those things. He wanted to believe they were true, really, but he had the feeling you’d had years ago. He wanted her, wanted such a calming life, but at the same time, he didn’t want it. He wanted to get out and do things and feared being fenced in. 

He proposed to Lorraine. Got her a nice diamond ring and everything. She’d cried and kissed him and he’d forced himself to smile but it wasn’t genuine. At least she didn’t know that. 

The wedding was planned. It was going to be a grand affair for the town, nearly everyone invited. Everyone was like family to the members of the town. Lorraine got an expensive, fluffy white dress and Javier bought a tuxedo. 

The ceremony was supposed to start at 5:00. Everyone sat patiently as the clock ticked past it. They didn’t know a thing. They didn’t know Lorraine was pacing the church basement, her heart clenched in fear. No one had seen Javier. Not even the groomsmen. 

Then it became 5:10, 5:30. At 5:45, Lorraine’s mother began to quietly tell the church that the ceremony wouldn’t be happening today. The disgruntled attendees left, wondering what happened. 

Javier had ran. He drove out of Laredo, straight for Dallas. He wanted out. He’d left early in the morning, not even saying goodbye to his father. He was already on a plane to Washington D.C. when the bride realized she was no longer getting married today. 

He got a job working for the DEA. They’d offered him one a few months ago, but he’d declined. He wanted to stay in Laredo with Lorraine, he’d bluffed. Things hit the fan when he began training for the new job. 

He fucked every woman in sight. He didn’t care who they were: if they wanted him, he wanted them. He never stopped smoking, developed a love and almost dependence on whiskey. When he went to Colombia, he paid for his first ever escort. 

It was what he deserved, he told himself. The one woman he’d ever loved left him. He had left the one person who ever gave a shit about him. Ruined her life and left her with a sense of anxiety whenever she was in that church’s basement as she remembered. 

He doesn’t deserve attachment. He doesn’t deserve someone caring for him. That’s why he sleeps around. That’s why he’s left so many lovers in the dust. 

Stop thinking about that, Javier tells himself. He whips a U-turn, opening the window and hanging a hand out of it. It forces himself to return to reality, to get out of his goddamn head and to not crash this new truck. The rain pelts his skin and he frowns. It never rains around Laredo, and it’s the one night he’s in town. 

He pulls into the old drive-in restaurant, thinking back to the happy days. He can still see your baby-faced grin as you skated over to him, long legs pushing you along. He could nearly taste the strawberry milkshake on his tongue. It’s closed for the night, since it’s in the early hours of the morning now. 

He jumps as a car pulls into the spot next to him. He looks down, knowing that whoever it is will likely recognize him. Everyone recognizes him around here. He’s not in the mood to talk.

“They’re closed,” a voice calls out from the other car, and Javier’s heart stops. He’d know that voice anywhere, even if it spoke a different language. 

He looks up and his eyes meet yours for the first time in twenty years. They’re still just as beautiful, still glimmering. “Peñita,” you breathe out as it clicks in your mind. 

He’s aged beautifully. His dark hair is neatly pushed back, though it’s a little shorter than he used to keep it. His face has lines now, heavy from the stress of his job. His eyes look weary and tired. 

You get out of your car. Javier does the same. You look at him, standing there, with a new truck that’s the same color of his very first piece of shit pickup. “Nice truck,” you comment. 

He smiles softly. “Thanks. It’s new.”

You walk around the front of your car, eyes wide in disbelief. There’s hurt on his face and you know you’re the cause of it. “Javier… I missed you.”

He looks down at you, now standing right in front of him. “I missed you more.”

You throw your arms around him and hug him tight. Your eyes water with tears as you squeeze him, wishing this moment would never end. He hugs you back, those arms still strong and protective. 

He presses a soft kiss to your head. He mutters his nickname for you quietly. His voice is different now, huskier and deeper. It’s a beautiful sound. His lips are buried in your hair but you can hear it all the same. “Princesa.”

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @softly-sad @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic

[hello-everyfandom]

“Sirius loves all the attention,”

Warnings: Mentions of violence, angst

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Words: 1.7k

Summary: James Potter’s sister, Y/N, opens the front door to find Sirius Black covered in blood and bruises.

Part Two “Everything between us is a moment”

(Angst! Send in requests please!!!)

“Y/N, dear, set the table, will you?” your mother called from the kitchen door, you groaned and stood up from the living room couch. 

“Why does James never have to set the table?” you whined,

“The answer is obvious,” James smirked as you looked at him with annoyance in your eyes, “I’m the favorite,” your brother shrugged innocently. You thumped him on the back of the head with your book earning an “Oi” in response.

“More like a big baby,” you huffed and began to set the table with four plates.

“Dinner is ready, dear!” your mother rang to your father who folded his newspaper and placed a kiss on your mother’s plump cheek.

“Gross,” James complained as he plopped down in the dining room chair. 

“Just because you don’t understand the circumstances and actuality of love and are too dimwitted to treat Lily Evans like a human doesn’t mean you can judge other’s on how they express affection,” you teased,

“Just because you don’t understand the circumstances of blah-di-blah-di blah,” James mimicked you in a high pitched, overdramatized voice.

“Will you stop acting like a child?” you hissed, 

“Will you stop acting like a child?” James mimicked back. You turned to your mother exasperated,

“Mum, can you please tell James to stop making fun of me,”

“Mum, can you please tell James to stop making fun of me, boo-boo blah blah- blah.” 

Your father rubbed his forehead and your mother rolled her eyes and smiled at her children,

“James, I swear to merlin if you don’t stop,”

“James, I swear to merlin if you don’t stop,”

You mimicked his voice back, creasing your eyebrows and pouting your lips, “I’m James Potter, I’m a right prat who can never get a girlfriend because I’m too in love with my own face,”

James leaned towards you and flipped his nonexistent long hair, “I’m Y/N, I love to correct people and take the fun out of everything because I’m a lonely know-it-all and nothing else brings me joy,”

The two of you sneered at each other and turned to your helpless mother again, “Mum!” you begged her to be on your side of the argument,

“Ah yes, Fleamont, ‘let’s have children, better yet, let’s have two,’” your mother sighed and shook her head comically, placing her hand on her husband’s shoulder to hold.

“I never said it would be easy, darling,” he replied.

“Stop it, James, shove off!” You pushed his forearm so you could make room for yourself,

“Stop it, James!” He mimicked again, 

“I mean it, you nitwit, stop it.”

“Stop it!” James heightened his voice. In the distance, beyond your anger and annoyance for James, you heard a thump at the door. No one else seemed to notice it. Your mother had just poured herself a glass of water and your father was asking what was for supper. But, you heard the soft knock at the door.

“Is someone...? Seriously James, stop it.” you shoved him again,

“Seriously, James, stop it,” you attempted to listen for the knock again, concentrating and narrowing your eyes. 

“Mum, are we expecting anyon- James!” you growled and slapped James’ bicep, “shut up!” you focused on the sound,

“Shut up!” James whined, 

“No, seriously James. Shut the hell up!” Your mother was about to scold you when the entire Potter family heard the loud fist-sized thumps at the door. You stood up, sending James a glare for being a bloody idiot and paced towards the door. You flung open the front door expecting to see perhaps a mailman or your neighbor who had lost her kitten once again. You, however, did not expect to see Sirius Black, bloodied and bruised, and nearly unconscious leaning on your front door frame. You gasped loudly and quickly placed yourself under his armpit to support him,

“James!” you called, “Mum, grab the plasters, James, come help me.” James turned quickly at your gasp and sprung up making his chair fall back.

“Sirius!” he yelled, racing towards you and helping you carry Sirius in from the evening rain. The two of you laid your best friend on the living room couch, searching for his wounds, not minding the blood on your hands. Your father retrieved his wand and began to attempt to heal Sirius’ deep wounds resulting in him shutting his eyes and wincing. His eyes were squeezed shut and he bit his lip as his forehead creased in pain. His shirt was ripped and you could make out the scratches and burns on his side.

“What do we do?” you asked James, you could see your elder brother was scared but he squeezed your hand tightly and turned his eyes towards Sirius,

“He’ll be okay,” James’ hoped. Sirius’ eyes flung open and stared at the Potter family. He began stuttering, frightened and out of control,

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. ‘m boy, calm down,” your father tried to reassure him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “lay still, the wounds are still deep,”

“Is he alright?” Your mother hurried in, bandages in one hand and her wand in the other as well as a towel, she put a loving hand on his forehead and rubbed the towel in order to gain some warmth into him. You’ve never seen Sirius so distraught, so vulnerable. His eyes were terrified and he continued to fidget on the couch. Your chest dropped, seeing him like this made you want to throw plates and glass at the wall.

“I’m sorry-” Sirius cried in pain and embarrassment, “I- he, James, James said if it were ever too much, to- to come here, but I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, but I-” Sirius cried out again making you grip James’ arm.

Your father glanced worriedly at your mother and said, “Son, calm down. It’s quite alright, we’re glad you’re here where you’re safe.” he turned to his two children and said, “children, quickly, leave us be with Sirius. Your mother and I must ask him some questions. Run the kettle,” and hurried you two out of the living room and into the kitchen.

“What happened to him?” you asked your brother, attempting to shake the fear from your face and placing the kettle on the stove.

“I-” James began, combing his fingers through his messy hair, “It was his god-awful family, I presume.”

You gasped and shook your head, “they did that to him?” you said, angrily.

“I believe so.”

“And you told him he could come here if it-”

James nodded, “If it ever became too much.”

The two of you peeked out from the kitchen door to see your father sitting next to Sirius, a solemn and serious look on his face. Your mother stood, a tear down her face as Sirius whispered to him what had happened to him at Grimmauld Place. 

“I want to kill them,”

“Me too,” James agreed.

“I’m scared,” you admitted to your older brother, he turned and wrapped his brotherly arms around you. The pair of you instantly forgot your insignificant quarrel from earlier and focused solely on Sirius. 

“Me too. But for Sirius’ sake, we need to be brave,” 

Your father approached the kitchen whilst your mother tended to Sirius on the couch, he looked at the two of his beloved children and said, “Sirius is to stay here for the remainder of the summer. He will not be going back to his home. I will send a letter to his mother at once, but there is no way in hell that boy is going back.” James hugged his father instantly before opening the kitchen door and disappearing to see his best friend. You looked at your father, who removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes,

“What happened, dad?” your voice was quiet, afraid to know the answer.

Fleamont Potter shook his head and placed his glasses back on, he pulled you in for a close hug and kissed the top of your head. He was thankful to have you and James in such healthy conditions. “Let’s not talk about it, child. Everything will be okay. Go on and be with your friend,” you kissed your father on the cheek before sneaking into the living room. Your mother saw you as she was leaving and placed a kind hand on your arm before retreating into the kitchen, most likely to talk to your father.

You watched James pull up a chair next to Sirius, two brothers with a stronger bond known to man. 

“Y’know, mate, if you wanted to see me this bad, you didn’t have to have such the dramatic entrance,” James’ joked making Sirius grin,

“You think I wanted to come here? Blimey, no. The inn across town wouldn’t take me, so I thought I’d come to the Potters.” James laughed and shoved Sirius,

“I’m glad you’re alright,” James said seriously,

“Don’t go all sappy on me, Prongs. Only a couple cuts and bruises,”

“Yes, James, don’t go all sappy on him.” You emerged from the shadows and sat on the edge of the couch Sirius was lying on, “Sirius loves all the attention,” 

“Only from you,” even though Sirius was in immense emotional and physical pain, he still found the energy to make you blush.

“Mate, you’ve only been here for a minute and you’re already acting dodgy towards my sister.” The three of you laughed,

“James, can you help bring the tea in?” your mother asked from the kitchen, James stood with no argument and left for the kitchen. Sirius closed his eyes and leaned his head on the back of the couch. You couldn’t help but stare, his face, though had a bruise and a split lip, was still as handsome as the day you first saw him. 

“I can feel you staring at me, darling,” Sirius opened one eye to peer at you,

“How could I not, you look like shit,” you shot back. Sirius’ eyes were amused before taking hold of your hand in his,

“I’m alright, y’know,”

“I know.” you placed a smile on your face that quickly faded away, “but unfortunately, you have to room with James and we both know he snores.”

Sirius shrugged, “if I can live with him at Hogwarts, I can live with him here,” Sirius squeezed your hand again before kissing your knuckles, “and I certainly don’t mind living with you,”

“I’ll only say it once this summer,” James warned whilst carrying out a tray of tea and biscuits, “hands off my sister.” 

[thezebrawlw]

Donna Beneviento x Maiden.

I'M A BIT ANGRY 'CUZ WHEN I FINISHED, MY COMPUTER DID SOMETHING WEIRD AND RESTARTED AND WHEN I LOGGED IN AGAIN EVERYTHING WAS ERASED AND AAAAAAAALSKDFGKJDFKA

Warning: Mild suicidal content // Mentions of sexual abuse.

(A/N): (I'm still studying English, so if I have a mistake, I apologize)

Summary: A maiden arrives at the Beneviento mansion. What will happen when Donna begins to live with her?

(I'll do a part two, because I don't want this to be too long.)

- - -

The day the maiden arrived at the Beneviento mansion, it was raining. The door opened effortlessly. Not even the toxic pollen from the plants would drive someone crazy enough to come close to the house, so there was no need to have locks.

A chorus of high-pitched voices scared the young woman "what are you doing here" "how did you get in?" "You shouldn't be here" "Let's play with her, let's play with her"

The young woman felt scratches on her arms and on her legs, someone bit her arm and pulled her hair hard enough to almost rip it out.

"Please, I just want to hide," the woman yelled.

"You shouldn't have come in, stupid girl" "Now you belong to us"

Suddenly the dolls fell to the ground and crawled back to their places.

The young woman saw a shadow materialize in front of her. It was a slim figure, covered entirely in black, opaque cloth. The figure was carrying a doll in wedding clothes in their arms. It was from that doll that a hollow voice came out.

"You shouldn't have come in, stupid girl. Now you're never going to be able to come out."

"I don't care," said the maiden, "if you want to kill me, just kill me. I'd rather perish under the hand of a noblewoman than die from those hunters."

"You're not worth Donna's time" the doll spoke again.

"If you don't want to murder me, then let me serve you" implored the maiden "your house will always be clean, the fire will always be lit, there will be no dust shavings on your beautiful dolls, just please, let me stay here, Lady Beneviento"

Donna didn't move. Beneath her veil she had an arched brow, confused by her request. The pollen must have made her hallucinate enough to make her say those things.

"Change those old rags that you have as clothes and find something to clean", say the doll.

"Yes My Lady"

"The name’s Angie and the only Lady here is Donna. Got it, muddy face?"

"Yes, Miss Angie"

From that day on, the young woman became the servant of Lady Beneviento.

Working there would be easy if it weren't for the mischief the dolls played on her. If she swept, the dolls would run around the little mountain of dust. When the floor was freshly waxed, the dolls dragged their knives on the wood. At night, the dolls would not stop laughing or making sounds of babies crying. They also watched her sleep, sometimes sitting around her bed.

But the maid never complained, she just looked at the mess they made with a tired smile, as if she was watching little children do mischief. Even if they watched her sleep, the only thing she could hope for was to be killed, but that never happened.

During the first weeks Donna tried to induce the maiden some hallucinations, but it seemed not to work, she assumed that her new servant had some kind of immunity to cadou and by extension to the pollen of the flowers that grew around the mansion.

Donna watched her and evaded her in equal moments. The leader of the Beneviento was locked in her room or her workshop for most of the day, so te only way to keep an eye on the maiden was through her dolls.

It was for that reason that the maiden always walked with a small retinue of dolls behind her, like a mother duck with her chicks. She was used to it by now.

That's how Donna realised that the maid was a very good singer, but a distracted cook. She was thankful that she didn't need to eat, just a drink now and then, because she didn't think she would be able to eat coal with sugar in it.

She also noticed that the maid was an active conversationalist. She talked a lot and about everything. The dolls listened to her and little by little they began to join in the monologue.

The young girl listened attentively and that was how she learned the dolls's names, where they were located in the mansion and what they liked to play with.

Watching her, Donna also noticed that the maiden looked out the windows, a melancholic smile kept on her face when it snowed or when the sun made an appearance.

One particularly snowy day, the dolls pulled the maid to the front door, asking her to come out and play for a while.

"I don't know, I don't think Lady Beneviento will give me permission"

"It will only be a while, it will only be a while", said the dolls.

The maid had never asked Donna for anything since she arrived. Donna hadn't spoken to her either, if she needed something, Angie would be the one to speak in her place.

Then, a dark figure appeared on the stairs. It was Donna accompanied by Angie. The doll spoke for her.

"You can come out"

"I... Am I allowed, My lady?"

Donna nodded. Angie spoke.

"If you promise to stay in the garden"

"Yes, yes, thank you very much, My lady, Miss Angie"

Donna allowed Angie to join the others and then went to her room. From her bedroom window, she watched her servant and her dolls play in the snow. The young woman made small snowballs and distributed them to those who only asked one, becoming the person in charge of making ammunition for the doll's games.

Angie began to converse with the young woman. Thanks to her connection, Donna could hear her.

"Why did you come to Beneviento mansion, mudy face?"

"They were chasing me"

"Who?"

"Hunters. They know that my mother was a witch and that her blood runs through my veins. They are afraid that I'll curse people."

"Would you do it?"

The maiden laughed, a wicked, sing-song laugh.

"I already did it" under her clothes, she showed an exquisite necklace made with rose petals. "The petals of this rose are tongues of the people who tried to abuse me."

In her room, Donna froze. This young woman could be dangerous if offended enough. Would her witchy nature be of any benefit to Mother Miranda? She decided to keep her longer and also to ask the dolls to stop their pranks.

One night, the maiden slept peacefully, too peacefully, so peacefully that she awoke in the middle of the night. It was not normal to sleep like this as the dolls were still making noises. When she lit her room with a candle, she realised that she was alone.

She went out into the hallway and heard sobbing and banging upstairs. She ran to Donna's room and found the dolls by the door.

"My lady?"

Angie's voice answered.

"Go away."

"Do you need anything?"

"Go away."

"I can get you something to drink if you--"

"GET OUT!"

Then a group of dolls armed with knives followed the young woman to her room. She locked herself in and felt lucky to be alone.

Donna's anxiety attack ended around three in the morning, so it was to be expected that she would wake up after midday. She also knew that her attack had caused some dolls to break, so she grabbed Angie and left her room.

She noticed that there was no one in the corridor. Donna looked for her dolls and found them in their respective places, they were broken, but there wasn't a speck of dust on their bodies.

Donna asked if they had returned on their own, but the dolls replied that it was all thanks to the maid. Donna busied herself with her dolls upstairs and when she came down to the living room, she found the maid carefully cleaning the face of one of her dolls.

"You are ready, I will now place you on the table so that... ¡My lady!"

Donna smiled under her veil.

"What are you doing?" Angie, as always, spoke instead.

"I figured you wouldn't be feeling well, so I decided to accommodate the dolls instead. Is... it okay?"

Again, Donna did not answer. Instead, she turned her attention to repairing the broken arms and legs of the dolls, apologising quietly to each one for hurting them.

The maid continued her work on the cleaning and that was the first time the two had been in a room together for more than two minutes.

In the night, some of the dolls still in need of repair talked to Donna, all of them telling her about the maid and how pleasant her company was. They told her that the young woman was a good listener and that although they could not feel warmth, they were sure that her touch was warm because she was almost always in the kitchen.

The dolls also tell Donna that the young woman (they all referred to her as "mudface" thanks to Angie), was very good at playing hide and seek and sometimes helped play tricks on other dolls.

Donna realised how fond they had become of the young lady, so she decided to thank her in her own way.

In the morning, the maid found a small box wrapped in a ribbon. Inside was a pair of woollen gloves to protect her from the cold and a note in elegant handwriting that said "thank you".

Donna looked out of the window at the maid. She was hiding behind a fountain so that Angie would not find her. The day was snowy and somewhat cold, but it was no problem for the maid because her hands and neck were protected by gloves and a scarf.

Both items were Donna's creation. The leader of the Beneviento continued to make small gifts for the maid as a way of saying thank you for the care she took of her dolls.

When the game was over, and thankfully spring was in the air, Angie and the young lady sat down to enjoy the sunshine and make a couple of wreaths.

She finished making one for Angie and placed it on her head, then made a larger one and told her to give it to Donna.

She looked up and found Donna watching her, the maid smiled and waved, though Donna remained still.

The gift was well received by Donna and in gratitude she knitted another pair of gloves.

The end of winter was all about giving small gifts. It was no longer about gratitude, the two women liked to see each other wear or use the gifts they each made.

A flower necklace dipped in amber, a hood for the cold, a jar of biscuits, a flavouring made from pleasant-smelling herbs...

Donna left her room more often, sharing space with the maid. The evenings were quiet, but not uncomfortable. She still didn't speak directly to the young woman, so Angie always had to step in to make small talk.

The young woman, despite her nature, tried to speak little so as not to make her mistress uncomfortable, for which Donna was grateful.

On one occasion they were both in the library, each reading her own book. They were not sitting close together, but within sight of each other. They were silent, until Donna let out a little giggle. The maid couldn't help but glance in her direction, eyebrows arched and a half smile on her face. She had never heard Donna laugh before.

"Are you having a pleasant reading, my lady?"

Beneath her veil, Donna stood still. Angie was playing somewhere and couldn't answer to explain the reason for her laughter, so she just nodded.

From that day on, the maid tried to make Donna laugh more often. Sometimes just making funny comments or other times telling jokes to the dolls, making sure Donna was close enough to listen.

Donna laughed more often and was in a better mood. You could see it in the way she walked and in the new dolls she created. Even in the laughter that could be heard from her room when she was talking to Angie.

But one day, her progress in confidence slipped back.

This is the end of part one.

Part two is here

[crankynewt]

Chapter One - Losing Game

Another Love Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x Fem!Reader, Young!Remus Lupin x Fem!Reader

Song: Arcade - Duncan Laurence

Warnings: Tons of Angst, Major Character Deaths, Pregnancy(?), and I definitely altered the timeline!

Word Count: 1.76k

Masterlist

Author’s Note: This is pretty angsty and was based on this song (which has always given me massive Reggie vibes), and I HIGHLY recommend listening to it when reading this!

Perhaps your love was doomed from the start. Maybe you were just another Shakesperian tale of forbidden romance destined to conclude in nothing but suffering. He was your light despite the darkness that had encompassed him his entire life and although the war was over, the pain still remained. 

You had begged Regulus not to leave that night, tears blurring your vision as he explained that he had to be the one to destroy the horcrux. “There is no other way,” he had said, his voice shaky with the knowledge that this would likely be his end. You were young, too young, to be fighting this war. A battle that neither of you had any business being involved in the first place. Yet there you were, children who had grown up too quickly.

When he hadn’t returned the next morning, it hadn’t come as any surprise. You mourned the loss of your husband the minute he’d walked out that door. You weren’t vapid and neither was he, you were both well aware of what would happen in that cave. Whether or not Regulus succeeded, however, still remained to be seen. 

The isolation following the death of Regulus Black was something you brought upon yourself. You couldn’t stand seeing muggles continuing to lead their lives as if nothing had happened. Your world crumbled out from beneath you as the universe became a much darker place, so why haven’t they stopped? A person - your person - had died, how could people continue to lead their normal lives?  We were still at war, how could they not sense that something was horribly wrong?

The loneliness made you ill after a month, so sick that you were constantly emptying the contents of your stomach into your toilet as you lay on the cool tile. What prompted you to eventually seek out another were the two little lines on the plastic test. Before long you had apparated to Godric’s hollow, the crisp snow of December crunching under your feet as you made your way up the steps of a quaint looking house. It felt much more homey than the Grimmauld flat you’d been residing in, a slight comfort that what laid behind the door you knocked on may be just as welcoming.

The face that answered the door was kind, warm eyes and a welcoming smile framed by ginger locks. You never spoke to her during your years at Hogwarts due to the two years she had on you, but you knew the girl to be Lily Evans. Judging by the slight furrowing of her brows she had recognized you as well, probably unsure as to why Regulus Black’s wife had shown up on her doorstep seemingly out of nowhere.

“Uhm, is Sirius Black here by any chance?” You asked quietly, your gloved hands rubbing your arms as you fought off the evening’s chill. She need not answer as a pair of brown orbs peered at you from behind her.

“What are you doing here, (Y/N)?” Sirius questioned, bitterness lacing his words as he took in your frail appearance. The elder Black did not think highly of his little brother - the Death Eater, or so he thought. Yet Regulus had relayed numerous stories from their childhood that revealed that in earlier years of their lives, the duo had been inseparable. You were just hoping that some of that affection still remained.

“Can we please talk? It’s about your brother.” You said, voice wavering as you shivered in the cold. Lily seemingly took notice of this and ushered you into the warmth of their home, closing the door behind you and leaving the in-laws to speak in the front entryway.

“If Regulus has something to say to me than the little shit can come tell me himself-”

“Sirius, what are you talking about?” You asked incredulously. “Regulus died two months ago.”

Sirius had not been speechless many times in his life, yet there he stood with his head reeling, heart broken, and tears slowly welling in his eyes. At the end of the day, Regulus would always be his baby brother. And in that silence he sat and listened, taking in all of what had happened the past year. From Regulus deciding to turn on Voldemort to the fateful night destroying his horcrux, Sirius felt both pride and guilt building underneath the grief. Regulus had been a good person who gave his life doing the right thing, all in belief of the same values that had gotten himself disowned.

When you mentioned the pregnancy, Sirius once again found himself dumbstruck. But that shock was quickly replaced with a sense of duty, it was as if he had the opportunity to make up for his brother’s broken relationship. He would help you raise this baby, and he would make damn sure that they did not have the same broken childhood he had suffered.

Within the week, Sirius had moved back into 12 Grimmauld Place with you. The baby he was dedicating himself to had quickly become babies after finding out that not one, but two baby Blacks were on the way. He was at your side through every step of the pregnancy, and slowly but surely his friends made their way into your life as well. James was always there to put a smile on your face and Lily gave great advice as to dealing with the pregnancy as she had delivered Harry only weeks before you showed up. Remus was always there to offer chocolate and a good book while Peter always had a hot cup of tea ready for you.

Before long, Arcturus and Cassiopeia Black were welcomed into the world and the light in your life had been restored. They were both the spitting image of their father, seeming to have barely inherited any (Y/L/N) genes and only reminded you of their father with every coming day. Little Harry was thrilled to have playmates, and you had finally found your family. Although far from perfect, it was everything to you. But all good things must come to an end, and this state of grace was no different.

Halloween came and went. James, Lily, and Peter were gone, no, murdered. Sirius could not have done it, not to his family! The man you read about in the papers was not the same gentle soul who would sing the twins to sleep almost every evening. But regardless of what you thought of the man he was guilty in the eyes of the Ministry, and thus he was sent to Azkaban to suffer a fate worse than death. This loss rocked you once more, but this time you had the twins to look after, and you weren’t alone.

Remus had stepped right up to fill the shoes that Sirius had been filling for Regulus without hesitation. He was grieving the same losses as you and found solace in caring for little Archie and Cassie. You mourned together and healed together, and before long Remus became your other half. 

That friendship didn’t last long, however, as it eventually blossomed into something bigger, a love that you fought tooth and nail. Guilt consumed you as you felt yourself falling for the werewolf, not being able to shake the feeling that you were betraying Regulus as you fell deeper and deeper in love. 

Right around the second anniversary of his death was when you heard the first words pass through either of the twins’ lips. Archie squealed a high-pitched “dada” to Remus who had been helping you prepare breakfast, and your eyes met his equally glassy. While the man stuttered out a mix of apologies in fear of overstepping, you just embraced him and allowed him to hold you in the way nobody had for a long time. The toddlers had accepted him as their father, and you had denied the desire to love him for too long.

Six months later the two of you had married in a small ceremony of only Order members gathering to celebrate your love. You did, however, keep the last name ‘Black’ as an homage both to Regulus and Sirius’ roles in both of your lives. At that same celebration you also announced that a baby Lupin would be making their way into the world six months later. And alas, Theodore Lupin was born shortly after, and your little family was complete.

When it was finally time for Archie and Cassie to begin their future at Hogwarts, you couldn’t help but weep as they waved out the window of the Hogwarts Express, the siblings excited to start the next stage in their lives. Your husband wrapped an arm around you as he fought tears himself, meanwhile Teddy tugged onto your hand and questioned when he would get the chance to attend the school as well, already missing his big brother and sister. 

Remus and you had debated what house the twins would be sorted into, him adamant that they showed Gryffindor courage while you were certain that they would follow in your footsteps and be sorted into (Y/H). Your questions were answered the next morning as you received letters from two very excited Slytherins, taking after their father just as they had done in appearance and personality. You and Remus were proud nonetheless, but your husband was always saddened that they had never grown close to Harry. The divide between houses had seemingly grown even stronger since you two had attended and a friendship between the former friends hadn’t formed.

Two years later, the twins were approaching their third year as Teddy prepared to begin his magical schooling, and you began to ponder what your life would look like following their departure. You and your husband didn’t have the finances to travel and feared a life without the light of your children, and your questions were answered following a letter from Dumbledore himself. He offered the two of you teaching positions at Hogwarts, Defence Against the Dark Arts for Remus and Astronomy for yourself.

The two of you were ecstatic to spend the year with your children teaching, and walking side by side with the castle in view made you feel like a young girl again. A broken heart was all that was left, but Remus had been there to pick up your broken pieces and carry you home. But the wreckage of your life would not stay in ruins forever, as old friends and old loves remained closer than you had ever known and were about to rejoin your losing game.

Join the Another Love series taglist here!!

[kn1feinthec0ffee]

picking it apart - spencer reid

spencer reid x reader

warnings: fluffy fluff and like one? curse word 😌 also final destination spoilers if you haven’t seen it? do i need a spoiler alert for something that came out 20 years ago?? idk

word count: 859

notes: this is a little segment i like to call flora watches 3 seasons of a show and thinks she’s qualified to write something true to the character but she’s gonna write it anyways

********************

tonight was one of the rare nights spencer hadn’t been overworked into a nearly unconscious state, so you decided to make the most of it.

“wanna watch a movie?” you slid into his lap with a grin. you gave him a kiss, relishing in the deepness of it, but subtly using it as a tactic to get him to say yes to you.

he almost immediately gave in (of course) and got up to pop some popcorn. you were scrolling through the horror section on netflix, jumping when you heard his voice behind you. “you know, all these films have extremely vague titles that invoke the feeling that something’s wrong, therefore convincing the viewer to click on it to find out the relevance of the name.”

“thank you for the lesson in marketing, doctor,” you giggled. “now get your ass over here.” he took a seat and balanced the popcorn on both of your laps as you cuddled into his side. “hmmm, what are we feeling tonight?”

you continued to browse through your choices, finally deciding on one. “i think you’ll like this one, spence,” you muttered as you clicked on final destination. “there’s so much to analyse.”

  “i’ve analysed enough today, my brain is tired,” spencer whined, dropping his head onto your shoulder. 

you pouted at his statement. “aww, poor baby. this one should be perfect for you then, it’s pretty mindless.” you hit the play button, eager to get the movie started. 

the two of you laughed at some of the cliche teenager moments, but you could’ve predicted that when it came to the inciting incident, spencer would most assuredly have something to say. 

  “did you know 49% of all plane crashes are caused by pilot error? and that crashes are 95% survivable?” you turned to look at him, the orange from the flames on screen illuminating his features. 

  “no i did not,” you grinned. “but you’re gonna have to suspend disbelief if you want to enjoy these kinds of movies.”

the survivors of the plane crash lamented their loss as some new faces entered the room, two of them introducing themselves as fbi agents. “look, it’s you!” you nudged him playfully. 

  “wow, they definitely picked the coolest names to represent such a high profile government organization.” he murmured sarcastically. 

  “you’re right, spencer reid is a much cooler name, why didn’t they use that one?” you teased. he gasped in offense, crossing his arms and letting go of you. “hey, i’m kidding! i think you have the coolest name!”

  “alright, alright, you are forgiven, come here,” he sighed, uncurling his arms to wrap them around you once more. as the investigation played, you could practically hear the gears in spencer’s head whirring as he memorized the student’s statements. you were tempted to remind him he didn’t have to look at this like a case, but he seemed pretty invested at this point. oh well, that’s just a profiler’s brain, you thought. 

the parents of the survivors rushed into the room to console their children while some of their parents didn’t show up. you looked over to spencer to see a pang of remorse on his features, clearly sympathizing with many victims he’d seen before. “bub, i can skip this part if you want?” you offered.

  “no, it’s okay, i don’t want to miss a minute of this enthralling storyline.” he smirked. “it’s interesting, but i think it could’ve been thought out a little more.”

  “ooh, i didn’t realize one of your three phds was in cinematography, doctor reid! please, tell us more.” your giggles were quickly tuned out against his lips. with the cheap gore of the movie having become background noise, you indulged in the closeness of each other. 

the sudden sound of a train rattling across the tracks emanated from the tv, scaring you both apart with a jump. as you tried to calm your racing heart, spencer looked over to you with a knowing gaze. “wanna call it quits?” 

you nodded quickly, switching off the tv as the room became swathed in darkness. you stumbled into the kitchen, bumping your hip against the table as you blindly walked. 

  “you scared death personified is coming after you?” spencer cooed in an eerie tone. you scoffed and reached for the flashlight on your phone. “oh please, why should i be scared?” 

  “because horror movies trigger the fight or flight response which can often cause people to have nightmares.” he offered simply. you rolled your eyes, though you doubt he saw in the pitch blackness. 

  “how did i know you’d have a fact about that?” you mumbled, reaching for your doorknob. 

  “maybe you’ve somehow avoided death in the past few days and its working its way to get you, now!” spencer shouted suddenly, gripping your shoulders tightly.

  “what the fuck, you dork?” you squealed. “do not put those ideas in my head this late at night.” you flopped onto the bed, pulling your boyfriend down with you. 

  “no more talk, only sleep and cuddle,” you groaned, wrapping your arms around him. all was silent for a few minutes until:

  “you never know, though, the statistics o-”

  “spence!”

******************************

in case you were curious, here are my sources for any statistics/facts mentioned: planecrashinfo.com, businessinsider.com, bustle.com

also idrk who to tag and i’ve also never written for spencer before soo @sojournmichael @linguinereid

[katnissmellarkkk]

Alrightttt, I’m on a roll so we’re going onto chappy five 🥳🥳🥳😎😎

I know the movies made the Capitol — re: basically only Effie and maybe Caesar — have those ridiculous made up accents but .... I actually feel like the description of the Capitol accent in the book is supposed to be like the Kardashians or Paris Hilton’s voice. 🤷🏼‍♀️

“Why do these people speak in such a high pitch? Why do their jaws barely open when they talk? Why do the ends of their sentences go up as if they're asking a question? Odd vowels, clipped words, and always a hiss on the letter s. no wonder it's impossible not to mimic them.” Like this is a pretty good description of how Kim Kardashian and her sisters talk. And Suzzy C did say she was inspired by the juxtaposition between war news footage and ridiculous reality television shows so... I think my theory of the Capitol all talking like they’re on the Real Housewives of LA is pretty valid.

Just imagine Paris Hilton as Effie and Nicole Richie as one of her preps

Lolololol this whole section of waxing is reminding me to go get my legs waxed 😭😭😭 straight up calling me out here, Suzanne

I like how Katniss says her stylist “apparently has no interest in seeing her until the prep team has addressed obvious problems.” Like you can tell from her narration she was expecting to feel the same was about Cinna that she does about Effie and her prep team.

The “gritty loam that takes off dirt and three layers of skin” is probably just a strong exfoliator 😭😭😭 my girl knows nothing about quality skincare 🤧🤧 someone build a Panem Sephora

She mentioned them waxing her underarms.... girl, did you have hairy armpits before this? Idk why this revelation is new to me

“Grease her down!” Just sounds wrong 😅😅😅😅 I need to stop being annoying omg I’m like a twelve year old

Hmm it’s funny to me that Katniss refers to Octavia as plump. You’d think in a place like the Capitol body image and weight would be very important. Unless it’s like back in the old, old days when being overweight was a sign of wealth. Which would make more sense so this was an unnecessary thought process curtesy of Samantha

Katniss faking a smile and thanking her prep team shows she does know how to play the game and fake it better than she says.

So ... okay, hear me out, I’m not trying to get over the top or make this into something it’s not but ... the whole stylists / Cinna coming into the room and staring at her naked is a little weird. Especially considering Cinna isn’t Lenny Kravitz who’s like a bit older than her but actually like a twenty-something year old dude.

But okay, here’s the thing I was getting at ... Cinna’s one of the best people in this series and you can’t deny that. Even if you find him boring, he’s still one of Katniss’ closest people. Also he’s probably gay. But like ... what about the other stylists? I don’t wanna be that person who makes everything more than it is, but like, this scene just sounds like a perfect opportunity for some Capitol creep to assault a teenager idk I’m probably making a mountain out of a molehill just ignore Samantha okay.

That’s nice that he complimented her mama though 🥰🥰🥰

So Katniss calls District Twelve the least desirable district but ... doesn’t District Eleven suck too? Like she also later says District Twelve is the smallest and the poorest but doesn’t she also say Rue is worse off than her and Prim? Make up your mind, Suz.

Cinna claims he asked for District Twelve but did he really get an option? 😅 If it’s his first year and Katniss claims the newbies get them anyway 🤷🏼‍♀️ Samantha is once again, reading too much into this.

Awww, Katniss is thinking about how long it would take for her to assemble this fancy meal at home 🤧🤧🤧 it would take her days and the Capitol just has the necessary resources at their disposal and they just takes it for granted. And yes, I’m aware this is supposed to be calling all us readers out who take so much for granted I know. We’re the Capitol.

“How would I spend the hours I now commit to combing the woods for sustenance if it were so easy to come by?” It’s honestly so sad but so vital to her character that Katniss has zero hobbies or real free time. Her life is about surviving. She doesn’t get to live or enjoy very much of her time. She dedicates everything to keeping Prim — and her mother — alive, sacrificing everything a teenage girl should be doing. Sacrificing even the things the other girls in her world get to do. She mentions the merchant girls and the Seam girls who are more experienced romantically and sexually and socially than her. Because she doesn’t get to be a kid or innocent or even happy, in order to focus on her and her family’s survival. And the things she does enjoy, like spending time with Gale or dancing with Prim (mentioned in Mockingjay) she downplays in case they’re taken away, because nothing good is secure in her eyes. 🥺🥺🥺

Okay but what did Katniss’ facial expression give away that Cinna knew exactly what she was thinking? Or is she just less emotionless than she and Haymitch both claim? Ironically I think they’re the only people who call her emotionless which can easily be chalked up to their self-hate and terrible self-esteems.

Katniss is so afraid they’re gonna make her be naked for the parade 😭. Honestly though they’re children that’s so creepy that they’re even allowed to make 15/16/17 year olds be naked in a parade. I mean I know they kill kids every year but isn’t there like child pornography laws in Panem? 😭

“You’re not afraid of fire, are you, Katniss?” Is so foreshadowing 😭😂😅😎 Caesar Flickerman’s voice “Katniss Everdeen, the girl on fire!”

Honestly though Cinna is smart to make Katniss recognizable in the arena by leaving her with simple makeup. I know and the sky is blue we all know this already beating the dead horses until the farmer comes home.

“It crosses my mind that Cinna's calm and normal demeanor masks a complete madman.” It’s true though 😅😅😅😭😭 he was always a rebel. I actually think he may have asked for District Twelve after Katniss volunteered, because he saw the potential in her. Poor Peeta. Baby, I’m rooting you for even if no one else is.

Also I always found it a bit .... curious? That Peeta had a female stylist and Katniss had a male one? Not just because of the required nudity, you’d just think men would do better as a boy’s stylist and a woman would make a better girl’s stylist. So yes, my whole Cinna was interested in District Twelve because Katniss seemed like a good symbol for a rebellion idea seems very plausible.

I know I know I know I read wayyy too much into this stuff sometimes a cigarette 🚬 is just a cigarette 🚬

Katniss being relieved when Peeta shows up 😭😭😭 because even if she won’t admit it and even if she won’t let herself trust him, she still sees him unconsciously and completely against her will as a comfort because they’re in this thing together in a way, even if they’re supposed to try and kill each other

And honestly, it’s such a like... relatable feeling? To feel alone and nervous and uptight and then someone who you recognize — even if you maybe aren’t even friends with but you at least know — shows up and you just instantly feel less alone. I’m totally looking at this through shipper goggles and I’m not even ashamed you all knew who’s blogging you were reading ight? 😂🤣🤷🏼‍♀️

“He should know about fire, being a baker's son and all.” And he’s gonna learn a lot more about it when he falls in love — for real, falls in love, not a childhood infatuation — with the girl on fire. 🥰🥰🥰

But also, I love this particular line on a reread because it totally is an indicator towards their future. Like Peeta knows about fire, he’s experienced with how to handle it, and later on, he becomes the only person who truly comes to understand Katniss, who represents fire, in a way that no one else could ever imagine.

Hmmm, Katniss’ point of view here, talking about how Portia and Peeta’s team seem all giddy and air-headed and it’s only Cinna who seems reserved makes me rethink my previous imaginings of Peeta’s stylist. Maybe she’s just a Capitolite idiot and nothing like Cinna. And my baby got a raw deal here then too. Good thing Haymitch loves him more. Just kidding 😅😅😅

But also I wanna know why Cinna is hesitant to accept congratulations for his and Portia’s idea? Wasn’t he at least lowkey excited about it when he pitched it a page ago?

Their horses are coal black 🐴 😅. I like that they went the whole nine yards with the theme. Nothing but the best for the kids on Death Row.

Aww Katniss asking Peeta what he thinks about being set on fire is so sweet and pure for some reason. I just find their commodore here cute ok

“I'll rip off your cape if you'll rip off mine” this is literally their first friend type of interaction and it’s so pure y’all leave me be I’m emotional for them

🙃 Also lowkey reminds me of “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Everyone look away ok I’m sorry

Peeta’s shady/annoyed Haymitch comment and Katniss’ joke at his expense 🤣🤣😂🤣😂😂🥲🥲☺️🥲🥲 they’re bonding it’s so presh

“And suddenly we're both laughing.” I hope they laugh a lot together post-canon 🥲🥲🥲. If they can make the other laugh during their terrible circumstances, then they can make the other laugh anywhere. 🤧 Except in Thirteen because he’s hijacked and she’s certifiable and they’re both so used and abused and 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Okay I have to say, Suzanne Collins really builds up a lot for certain events and then just like grazes over the actual action of said event? Like she builds towards the tribute parade but then kind of rushes through off the actual event itself? It’s a common theme in her writing. And I don’t like it at all ngl.

Oh wait she doesn’t actually rush the parade events the paragraph before just looked like she was about to I jumped the gun 🤣😂🤭 but what I said is still completely true for many events in these books sorry not sorry

I’m definitely reading too much into it but the fact that District One — the favorite of the Capitol — gets snow white horses and District Twelve gets coal black horsies kind of ... seems to imply something .... 🤭

Cinna just lets out a sigh of relief “it worked” like ... way to fill your tributes with hope, dude. “Yeah, you’re totally safe, don’t be scared-OH THANK GOD THAT WORKED I wasn’t actually sure you wouldn’t blow up.” But actually this answers my previous inquiry about why he seemed hesitant I guess he wasn’t even sure this wouldn’t burn them up that’s nice 🤭🙃

It’s a literal trial by fire *cue drum hit* 🥁 aww, I just cracked myself up 😭

“Then he gently tucks a hand under my chin. "Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you!" This is caught halfway between being very Capitol-y and very father-brotherly and idk which way to take it but it’s kind of cute 🤭

“For the first time, I look at him and realize that ablaze with the fake flames, he is dazzling.” This is such a significant line because Katniss isn’t saying Peeta is technically good looking (like when Haymitch said they were decently attractive) or someone else thinks he’s good looking (i.e Gale, her mother and lowkey Finnick) but she’s saying she herself thinks he’s attractive. Girl, your crush is showing.

"I think he said for us to hold hands," says Peeta.” I’m sure Cinna actually did say that but this just seems like a very good opportunity for Peeta to hold the hand of the girl he has a massive crush on. 😭😭😭

Okay Cinna gave a thumbs up so he actually was saying that but can you imagine Peeta’s excitement right now?

I mean, yeahhhh, there’s the certain death looming over him too but like live in the moment, babe. 🥰😘🤗👌🏻

I like that Katniss says the crowd is at first like 😳😳😳 before they start cheering like they’re thinking “what are these backwoods, hillbilly kids doing this year?”

“At first, I'm frozen, but then I catch sight of us on a large television screen and am floored by how breathtaking we look. In the deepening twilight, the firelight illuminates our faces” okay they both have to be pretty naturally attractive people objectively, because you illuminate my face without much makeup and no one is gonna be cheering.

“Remember, heads high. Smiles. They're going to love you! I hear Cinna's voice in my head. I lift my chin a bit higher, put on my most winning smile, and wave with my free hand.” I wonder what the true difference is for Katniss between Cinna and Effie saying this to her? Maybe it’s that Effie is just outright mean to her sometimes whereas Cinna shows her nothing but kindness from the start and expresses sympathy and understanding? It’s probably that he’s already earning her trust versus Effie who’s just cruel I’m not over her comments on the train ok

“I'm glad now I have Peeta to clutch for balance, he is so steady, solid as a rock.” Right from the start, Katniss refers to Peeta as solid and steady. Idk, I feel like this is something that the movies really misses along the way. Katniss wasn’t always strong or confident at all and Peeta, at least publicly, exuded those qualities pretty well. Samantha’s complaining again ™️ 💁🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

Also this is just outright foreshadowing how Peeta will eventually become her rock. Or that he will be soon painted a rock ... pick and choose which way you wanna go with this. 🤷🏼‍♀️💁🏼‍♀️😅🤣

“As I gain confidence, I actually blow a few kisses to the crowd.” Okay, see I feel like Peeta really gives Katniss confidence in herself. If he’d been there in District Thirteen and they’d done propos together, she probably would have been a thousand times better.

But also this makes me think Katniss actually has it in her to be a charismatic, confident, alluring celebrity. She just chooses not to. 🤗🤗🤗

But this also reminds me of “She has no idea the effect she can have” okay imma move on and stop focusing on every little detail

I say that every chapter 🤧😅

“The pounding music, the cheers, the admiration work their way into my blood, and I can't suppress my excitement.” Say whatever you want, Katniss is still such a girl underneath it all. She gets excited over people liking her and cheering her on. And I know it’s because it increases her chances of getting sponsors but still

Honestly Peeta trying to showcase Katniss and let her take the spotlight is so selfless and indicative of his ultimate plan to help her win but also ... I can see how Katniss would believe it’s too good to be true and he’s messing with her. That he’s just playing the game to earn her trust, get her guard down and manipulate her later.

See, Peeta is actually framed at the start like the typical, standard YA love interest turned villain. In majority of YA books, at this point the boy is kind and sweet and helpful to the girl until she trusts him completely and then he turns on her and uses everything she gave him to destroy her. But the difference is, Katniss refuses to truly trust him and she is guessing his game incorrectly at every step. And then it’s revealed that it was never a game and he truly isn’t messing with her and everything he’s done that’s seem too good to be true and not even remotely plausible has actually been genuine and heartfelt and that, my friends, is why Peeta is above all other YA love interests. Because Everlark is actually the foil to many of the cliches. That was a long speech over some incoherent thoughts I’m so sorry if you suffered through that.

“It's not until we enter the City Circle that I realize I must have completely stopped the circulation in Peeta's hand. That's how tightly I've been holding it.” Awww he is her rock 😭🤧🥺

"No, don't let go of me," he says. The firelight flickers off his blue eyes. "Please. I might fall out of this thing." Okay this part is so cute and so blatantly setting Peeta up as her main love interest omg 😅 this isn’t the least bit subtle or disguised. But first off, the fact that Katniss is also Peeta’s stability here too 😭😭😭 and second of all, she takes time to notice his blue eyes against the firelight? She was attracted to him from the very start, y’all. That’s indisputable. 👌🏻😎🤧

“It's not really fair to present us as a team and then lock us into the arena to kill each other.” I agree with you, baby, it’s not fair at all. But you two take care of that situation nicely. Or not. Y’all do start a dang war. 🤭🤭🙃🙃

It’s rather ... ironic that it’s District Twelve’s chariot of them all that is pulled up and stopped directly in front of President Snow’s mansion. I know it’s a book, certain details like this are definitively contrived, I know get over it. 🤦🏼‍♀️💁🏼‍♀️

So uh. Snow is a small thin man? Why do I suddenly imagine Danny Devito as Snow 😅😅😅😅🤣🤣🤣🤣 y’all know he’d kill the role

“The darker it becomes, the more difficult it is to take your eyes off our flickering.” Okay, this is such a great line and it’s so significant to the rest of the series? The fact that Katniss — and Peeta, let’s not forget our boy — became symbols of the revolution. Like this line is deep if you think about it. The worse things in Panem got, the more the civilians looked towards Katniss and Peeta for hope 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥰🥰🥰🥰

Omg now after Songbirds and Snakes, we know the national anthem. I’m sorry, babies, that you have to endure that I’ll get you out of there 🙉🙉🙉

I feel like in part, the Capitol camera crew — Cressida, Pollux .... Pollux’s brother... is that you here???? — put so much attention on District Twelve because it would create some resentment and competition between them and the careers 🤭🤗

“I notice a lot of the other tributes are shooting us dirty looks, which confirms what I've suspected, we've literally outshone them all.” Insert Gretchen Wieners “I can’t help that I’m popular!” 😅😅😅😅😅

“I realize I'm still glued to Peeta and force my stiff fingers to open. We both massage our hands.” — they were hanging on so tight 😭😭😭😭

“Thanks for keeping hold of me.” He’s so sweet ☺️☺️☺️ I love him even if he’s kind of an idiot sometimes but so is Katniss so let’s not point fingers

“I'm sure they didn't notice anything but you. [...] And then he gives me a smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness” Omg I know Katniss views this as him trying to manipulate her but the fact that he’s actually just admitting the way he’s felt for years is so 😭😭😭😭 if only you’d spit it out sooner, Bready

“he gives me a smile that seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me.” She literally has a crush on her fellow tribute and her first line of defense is to decide he out to get her for making her feel this way 🤣😭🙃

“The more likable he is, the more deadly he is.” The more my crush grows, the more deadly he becomes. I know I’m reading this with shipper goggles but guess what? I’m unashamed. 🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️🤷🏼‍♀️ who feels guilty for reading this book with an Everlark bias not this girl right here 🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️🙋🏼‍♀️

“I stand on tiptoe and kiss his cheek. Right on his bruise.” Okay first off, she says cheek here but according to a chapter ago, she claimed the mark was on his jaw... so in other words, she’s incredibly short. If a medium height guy has a bruise on his jaw and she has to stand on her tip toe to reach it... well... hashtag LittleKatniss

And second off.... can you even imagine how Peeta must feel. He genuinely complimented her here, the girl he has had a crush on forever, and she responds by kissing his cheek. He was probably really happy at this moment. And also this probably played further into his buying into her false display in the arena. That here we have her clutching his hand, smiling and laughing with him and kissing his cheek. Idk what I was trying to say necessarily but I made myself sad wow way to go me 🥺🥺🥺🥺🤧🤧🤧

Anyways! Those are my very over the top and too detailed thoughts! Hope you enjoyed if you read this! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳🥳😎😎😎😎😎😎😎🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

[flightrules]

Which Kind Do You Want to Be?

Summary: You’re from a deeply sex-positive culture. He hasn’t gone unarmored in front of another human in... It’s been a very long time.

Three days on board the Razor Crest featuring moments of angst, domesticity, kindness, explicit consent, and Din doing his best to be a conscientious parent in the midst of everything. Heads up for descriptions of canon-typical violence, mention of past dubious consent, and a moment of (unintentional) violence between our protagonists. Din/cis female OC, on the hetero end of the scale. Ending is bittersweet.

Rating: Mature? Explicit? Anyhow, grown-up sexy stuff in later chapters. Please be old enough to be reading this kind of thing.

Watch for upcoming chapters here, or read the complete story on AO3. 

Chapter 1

He's sitting there looking at you, head tilted, and it's like somebody needed an illustration of curiosity for a children's book so they drew this Mandalorian and stuck that on the page.

"Isn't 'stop' good enough?" he says.

"Sometimes people like to say that and not mean it. Having a different word lets you both know you don't want what's happening anymore."

"If I say stop, I'll mean it."

There's something about that voice modulator that makes everything he says sound final.

The two of you are sitting across from each other on the floor, in the cramped hold of the Razor Crest. You're dressed in your usual practical trousers and shirt, but you've kicked your boots into a corner and your rifle's propped against a nearby wall.

He's still wearing the beskar.

The child is spending the night with Peli, who took him delightedly, crooning about getting him some decent food and a nice soft place to sleep. 

She also spared a moment for you, looking you up and down before shooting a pointed look at the armored man beside you. "It's about time."

"Can you trust her?" you asked on the way up the ramp, as Peli and the child disappeared into her shop.

He shrugged. "With my life? No. With his? Yes."

How exactly does this man decide whom to trust with his life? 

You've known each other, what, a few days? The acid burn on your right shoulder is still raw, the skin still peeling away in shreds. Interesting lesson, that. Gark-vipers don't bite, they spit. 

The scar will be your souvenir from a three-day trek through the jungles of Silicaria. One day in to snatch the little green rug-rat back from the bounty hunters who took him, two days back on tired legs, without food and no idea if the water in the streams you passed was safe.

You were hired help at the beginning. 

By the end, between fighting off hungry jungle creatures, sharing watches through pitch-black nights, and taking turns carrying the kid, you and this man were something like friends. 

Not that you didn't still collect your credits. A girl's gotta eat.

But you also didn't turn down the chance to get cleaned up in his ship's refresher, or to bunk down in a corner of the hold for a decent night's sleep.

He got the baby to bed first, briskly bathing the yawning little creature in the galley sink, then wrapping him up in a clean blanket and tucking him into a hammock in what looked like the man's own sleeping quarters. 

Then he indicated the refresher and sonic shower for you to use. "I'll wait upstairs." 

It was nice of him to give you privacy to get cleaned up and changed, even if it seemed a bit odd to you. Where you come from the human body's nothing to be ashamed of. But not all cultures see things that way.

Clearly his did not. You'd think after what you'd both been through, he'd want to get into some comfy clothes and leave the armor in storage for a while. But no, he switched places with you in the cockpit, disappeared down into the hold, and came back up a little later smelling a heck of a lot better but fully decked out again.

"I promise I'm not dangerous," you said, teasing.

It was a little insulting how easily he said, "I know." But he added, "I have food. If you're still hungry," and that felt like something a friend would say. So you bit back the temptation to remind him that if you wanted to, you could be dangerous, indeed.

The Razor Crest's food stores were nothing to write home about. Your body was going to make good use of the calories though, whether they tasted good or not. You leaned against the galley cabinet and gnawed on a protein bar. He started working on cleaning weapons and putting them away in what looked like a small but impressive armory.

"So what's the deal with the outfit?" Curiosity wasn't a sin where you came from, either.

"What do you mean?"

"You're home, right? We've agreed I'm not dangerous. Who are you planning to fight?"

"I'm not," he said, settling a blaster in its place next to an array of grenades. 

"So?"

"Mandalorians don't go unarmored around anyone but family."

You were struck by a sudden image of him with the kid, the two of them playing tag or something down here among the crates and stowed weapons. The kid in his little brown robes and the Mandalorian in, what? A pair of soft trousers, maybe a shirt that showed his arms. Barefoot, maybe. Probably hair all a mess. If he had hair. Or would he shave his head?

You had to shake your own head to get the image to clear.

"Huh," you said in reply. "Really? I crossed paths with some guys like you, a couple years back. They didn't seem to have any issue."

You were surprised to hear a sigh. "There are different kinds of Mandalorians."

"Do you get to choose?"

He didn't answer. 

You finished up the protein bar and looked around for somewhere to toss the wrapper. There wasn't an obvious wastebin, so when he looked back your way again you held it up, inquiring.

"Behind the door, lower left," he said. And then, "You don't get to choose."

"Who chooses for you, then?"

He turned back to the armory. It looked to you like everything was in its place now, but he lifted out the grenades, turned them over in his hands, put them back. "I was a foundling," he said. "They raised me in the Way."

How he said "the Way," you could hear the emphasis, like it was a sacred word. "A foundling? Like your kid?"

"Yes."

"So, you're going to teach him to live like this, too?"

The answer came quickly: "No." He closed the armory doors. They latched with a clicking sound. "We should go."

"We?"

"The child and I need to get off-world. Someone knew we were here. Where do you want to go?"

What made him think you didn't already belong in the village where he met you?

"You're not from here."

No, you weren't. The place you're from isn't there anymore, though, thanks to the Empire. 

It wasn't a story you cared to tell right then. 

"Sure, yeah, wherever you're headed next." Anywhere you could find work would do. "I'll jump off at the next port." You indicated your shoulder, where the acid burn still stung. "As long as they don't have gark-vipers."

You slept cozily enough that night, wrapped in a blanket he gave you and using the bivy bag from your own pack as padding beneath. At one point you woke to the sound of the child fussing, followed by the man's voice softly singing. The child quieted down and you found yourself lulled back to sleep, too.

“Are you sure the kid’s safe down there?” 

“He’s safe.”

You’re picturing the dusty repair yard, the bare-bones shop behind it, the handful of repair droids who were probably great with wrenches but not so much with guns. Peli looked like she had some wiry strength to her, but she was on her own. “She a former soldier or something?”

“She has a safe-room behind a hidden panel with a ten-centimeter durasteel door. They’ll be fine.”

Your eyebrows go up. Mos Eisley looks like a shambling backwater town. 

“Tatooine has wildlife. Some of it has guns.”

You glance at your own rifle, leaning against the wall nearby. You’ve fought off some of that kind of wildlife before. 

What a strange family you’ve fallen in with. 

“All right,” you say. “Good. I guess you know what you’re doing.”

You expect him to nod, confirm, like he did when you said you weren’t dangerous. Instead, you see pauldrons and breastplate shift as his shoulders sag a bit. “Sometimes.”

This thing you’re doing now, or about to do. It started with a joke. Well, mostly a joke. A victorious mission, the child safe, the two of you safe now too, and alone behind closed doors. The sweat of the mission washed away, guns laid down, a chance to rest. Back home, you said, as you took the blanket he’d found for you, a man and a woman would celebrate. 

You hadn’t expected him to take you up on it, but you also hadn’t expected him to freeze like that, one hand still holding the blanket. Until this moment, he’d looked like that armor was part of him. Suddenly, somehow, the way he reached out to you looked awkward, pauldron and vambrace no longer in line, and that helmet turned the tiniest angle, like he didn’t know where to direct his eyes.

“Never mind,” you said, smiling to let him know it really was ok. “We’re not where I come from, are we.”

Something shifted back now, and the shapes of his armor made sense again. He let go his grip on the blanket as you took it. “No.”

As you went to shake the blanket out and make up your bedroll, you noticed that your shirt was sticking a bit to the burn on your shoulder. “One thing, though, I could use from you. Do you have a medkit?”

“Sure.” He turned in the small space, graceful now, broad shoulders under the beskar pauldrons shifting as he reached up to open a high cupboard. You couldn’t help noticing how trim his waist looked, even under all that steel and fabric. Oh well, some things were not for you. 

The medkit had burn ointment and bandages, but no bacta. You’d have been hesitant to use any, anyhow. It would heal that wound in a day, but you knew what it cost. You’d never had the credits to buy it yourself. 

He started to turn his back, to let you undo your shirt in private and get a bandage over the oozing burn. But the acid had dripped far enough down your shoulder blade that you couldn’t quite be sure you’d covered it. “If I promise to stay decent, can you help here?”

He made quick work of anchoring the gauze to your skin with strips of steritape, while never putting pressure on the places that still ached and stung. Those were hands that had bandaged up wounds before. You’d wondered already what was underneath the armor, but suddenly you found yourself wondering what pattern of scars you might find. On a man who clearly fought as easily as he breathed, maybe almost as often--and apparently didn’t have the credits for bacta, either. Unless he went through it so fast, he couldn’t keep it stocked. 

He flipped the medkit closed. He stowed it back on its high shelf, then crossed to the little room where the baby was still sound asleep, curled in that tiny hammock. “Sleep well,” he told you, before lowering the room’s metal door. 

When you woke in the morning that metal door was up and you were alone in the dimly lit hold. You took advantage of the refresher and used your fingers to comb down your hair, where you could feel it was standing on end. No mirrors in here. You’d been too tired last night to notice. 

Well, if you really wanted to know what you looked like you could check your reflection in that armor.

You made yourself at home in the galley, poking around until you found some caff powder and another of those protein bars. Then, mug in one hand and bar in your pocket, you climbed the ladder to the cockpit.

The Mandalorian was in the pilot’s chair, helmeted head framed by the lights of hyperspace beyond the windows. The little green child was nowhere to be seen. You made your way forward to settle into the passenger seat, meaning to ask if one of you should check on the baby. But there he was, after all, perched on one armored thigh, staring wide-eyed at the lights while his tiny hand held fast to the man’s gloved index finger. 

Neither of them looked over at you, but neither one seemed startled when you spoke. You addressed the child, because why not. You’d been through a lot together, the past couple days. You figured you’d reached an understanding. “Does he sleep in that armor, too?”

The baby looked your way for a second, cooed cheerfully, and returned his gaze to the sky. 

You took a sip of caff, appreciating the spark it sent straight to your brain. Caff was a rare treat for you at the best of times, and on that jungle planet, where every bean had to be imported, it had usually been out of your reach. “Well? Do you?”

“Sometimes.”

“Last night?”

“Last night you might have needed something.”

“But most of the time, you don’t have to. You said, family.” You gnawed off a corner of the protein bar and washed it down with another sip of caff. “So where are the rest of them?”

He reached forward to adjust something on the console, a smooth movement of arm, shoulder, and back that left the baby peacefully balanced in his lap. “This is my clan,” he said. “Until I find the child’s people and return him to them.”

“He’s your whole family?” You needed another gulp of caff to process this. “And when you’ve dropped him off you’re just going to--” That couldn’t be right. People couldn’t go their whole lives walled off like that, beskar steel and cloth padding between them and the whole entire world. “Are you sure you don’t get a choice, here?”

He was silent for a long time. During the quiet, the baby looked up at him, then looked your way. The man disentangled his hand from the baby’s grip and rested it on the tiller. “This is the Way,” he said. It was hard to hear emotion through that helmet and whatever the electronics were doing to his voice, but--he sounded quieter than usual. A little slower. He sounded sad. 

“Well,” you said. “There’s got to be other Ways. Those other Mandalorians I met, they sure had a different way. Pretty sure they weren’t flirting with the barmaids because they wanted to keep their armor on.”

“There are different kinds of Mandalorians,” he repeated, same thing he said the first time you asked. 

You wrapped both hands around the mug you were holding, enjoying the warmth against fingers that still ached a bit from the punches you’d had to throw. “Which kind do you want to be?”

For some reason, you couldn’t let it go. You didn’t push, exactly. That wouldn’t have been right. But there wasn’t much else to do as the ship sailed through hyperspace. He was making a couple jumps, he told you, right-angle turns at out-of-the way nodes, to make it harder for anyone to guess the ship’s trajectory and follow. 

In between setting the next course, there wasn’t much to do besides watch the sky, play with the baby, and talk. After a while, he started asking you questions, too.

“What’s it like?” was one of them. What’s it like to walk around exposed all the time, nothing between your fragile skin and the world but a thin cotton shirt and trousers. You’d never thought about it all that much, but he had a point. The knife scar just below your ribs was a testament to that. 

“What’s it like,” you asked him back. He told you about the electronics in the helmet that make it hard for anyone to sneak up on him. He showed you a few of the hidden weapons, although you’re certain there are many more you haven't gotten to see. He explained the history of some of them, how he’s wearing not just the latest technology but a thousand years of Mandalorian history. He said, in a way, it’s like always having your own backup. Like never being completely alone. 

It wasn't until much, much later, when the ship was on its last trajectory, the baby was in bed, and the two of you were sitting side by side on the floor down there in the hold, a jar of bitter ale in your hand and him still stone-cold sober, that he admitted it was lonely.

And that’s how, after a couple more hours of talking and a night of much more restless sleep, the child’s ended up with Peli as a babysitter and the two of you are alone up here in the Razor Crest, sitting cross-legged across from each other, knees almost touching but with space and several kilos of beskar definitely still between you. 

“All right,” you say. “The word for stop is, stop. You sure you still want to do this?”

“No.”

You’re disappointed, but it’s got to be up to him. You start to scoot back, ready to stand up, to give him some actual room. 

A gloved hand closes around your calf. “Yes.”

You cover that hand with your own. When he doesn’t pull away, you lift his fingers gently from your leg, find the cuff of that glove, and slide it from his hand. 

His hand is trembling.

“You’ll remember? The word for stop?”

He laughs, short and sharp. It makes a faint sound of static through the helmet’s modulator.

Carefully, slowly, you use your own hand to guide his fingers to the bottom edge of that helmet. “How do I…?” He lifts his other hand to help you. There’s a soft, electronic sigh as whatever holds it in place loosens. And then, all on his own, he lifts the thing from his head.

He’s got curly hair. It’s the first thing you notice, as you run your fingers along his scalp and those curls, flattened by the shape of the beskar, spring back into ringlets. You’ve no idea what color his eyes are because they’re closed, and his head is bowed down as, fascinated, you wind one of those curls around a finger. You slide the other hand down to his neck and lean in to plant a single, gentle kiss against his temple. 

It takes him two tries to gasp out the word. “Stop.”

You drop your hands and rock back from kneeling to sitting, putting space back between you.

He huffs out a short laugh again, catches his breath, then raises his head to look at you.

His eyes are dark brown, almost black. Tiny lines at the outer corners hint at how old he might be. The paleness of his skin reminds you, it probably hasn't seen much sun. You might look the same age, but you bet he's got a few years on you.

"Was that a stop for now, or a stop altogether?"

"I don't know," he says. "No one's done that since…" His voice trails off. 

"Do you want to get put back together? We can try again later. Or not."

He's so solemn when he says, "There's no going back." He adds softly, as if to himself: This is the Way. And then, looking at you again, "Do you mind if I…?" He indicates the vambraces covering his forearms, moves as if to take one off.

You can't resist. "Can I help?"

The whole thing is more complicated than you might have thought. It's not just the individual steel plates. Each piece connects into an underlying electrical array, woven into the fabric of his clothing. He shows you first, on one side, then lets you follow his hands with yours to do the other. 

It's probably good you're helping, actually, because his hands are shaking again. By the time you get to the shin guards above his boots, he needs you to undo the catches. 

"No wonder you never take this stuff off." You're kneeling at his feet now, and you reach over to set the second boot next to the pile of beskar that has now joined your rifle against the wall. You worried briefly about just stacking it up like that, but he shrugged. The stuff was made to take blaster bolts. You weren't going to hurt it.

"How long does it take to put it all on again?"

He's watching the tremor in his hands. "It's faster when I'm alone."

"I can go," you offer. "Climb up to the cockpit for a bit and let you…" Let him what? This whole thing got started because he was tired of being alone.

"No," he says. "Stay."

All right. "You've still got a lot of… machine going on there. Am I going to break something if I touch you?"

He looks down at his own body, as if surprised to realize he's still wearing anything. 

"Where do we start?"

The bodysuit array turns out to be a single piece with a diagonal seam across the chest and down to his waist. You work together to undo the line of hook and loop tape that holds it shut. His hands, so capable with fists and weapons, have gone clumsy, and as you help slide the array from his shoulders you can feel the shaking has spread. The man's whole body is trembling.

Underneath, he's wearing a simple, soft shirt with sleeves down to his wrists and black leggings that you can't help but notice cling to slim hips and defined quads.

You knew he was fit. You spent three days fighting beside him. It's still fun to get to see, even if he also looks like he's not going to last much longer on his feet.

You step closer and reach a hand out, and although you can't see his face well now--he's still almost a head taller than you, even with you both now standing in stocking feet--you can hear his breathing quicken as you lay your palm against his chest. His heart is pounding like you've been in battle. 

He's proven he knows how to say stop when he wants to. You move closer again, thighs up against his, belly to belly, your chin against his collarbone, and wrap your arms around him. You're not sure if the sound he makes is a grunt, a laugh, or a sob.

Before long you've sunk to the floor and you end up half in his lap, tangled together, and usually by this point with a new partner you'd be laughing and reaching for bare skin beneath each other's clothes. Here, he's now holding you so tight you couldn't get free if you tried. His face is buried in your neck and there's no mistaking it now. He's absolutely sobbing.

Where you're from, the human body was nothing to be ashamed of. And that includes all the awkward things that bodies do. You slide one hand from his back, up his neck, to rest your fingers in those lovely curls again, and you let him cry.

When he finally winds down, the shaking has stopped too. Gradually his hold on you loosens, and you find yourself shifting against him so you can see his face. His hair's plastered against his forehead now and those warm brown eyes are lined with red. He looks awful, and the thing you want most in the world right now is to kiss him.

He doesn't smile, but he gives another of those short laughs. 

You bring a hand to his face, curving your palm against his cheekbone, using your thumb to wipe away some of the wetness below his eye. You lean in slowly to try a kiss against his temple again, and then his cheek, and then, gentle as you can manage, against his mouth. 

He's already warned you this would be new for him so you're careful, slow, pressure first and then tracing his lips with your tongue. One hand still caressing his face, the other against the back of his head, and you can't resist a gentle tug on those curls. 

But when you do, suddenly he's not responding, until he chokes out your safeword. Stop.

You do, of course, disappointed until you see he's gasping to catch his breath. "That good, huh?"

"It is." And then, he shakes his head. "I don't think I can. I don't know what to do with it all."

You've never been shy around men. Where you're from, a tumble is so normal you don't even count partners. This is new for you. Usually, they keep asking for more.

All you can think to do is say, "You got any more of that bitter ale?" It's not for him exactly, you wouldn't want him making decisions he'd regret. 

It's for you.

He does, indeed, have a whole stash of the stuff, although the dust on the lids suggests he doesn't get into it all that often. You end up sitting side by side on the floor again, backs against a row of cupboard doors. 

When you get up to get you both a second round, your own judgement's fuzzy enough that you plunk back down right next to him, hip to hip, and rest your head a moment on his shoulder. 

A little later his hand finds yours. 

You sit there, side by side, fingers twined together, until both your ale jars are empty. By now you're tired, you're a little bit drunk, and you're still turned on. And you can't do a damn thing about it because the last thing he said was, stop, and now he's probably a little drunk, too.

"I should get some sleep," he says beside you. "You should, too."

You end up back in your makeshift bedroll, while he's a whole two meters away in his sleeping quarters. You lie awake for a while, wondering if he's lying awake too, until the combination of ebbing hormones and the effects of good ale finally lead you to sleep.

It's easy to lose track of time on the Razor Crest, where sunlight doesn't make it down into the hold. But the ship's chrono wakes you with its loud, annoying buzz. 

He's already up. He hits a control panel to silence the noise, then takes the few steps from the galley to bring you a cup of caff. He crouches beside your bedroll to hand it to you.

He stays there a moment while you sit up, drag your fingers through your hair, then take the mug from his hand.

He's dressed now in a pair of black trousers and a black shirt that shows off chiseled arms. The color makes his brown eyes look even darker. Overall, the effect is making it hard for you to think.

"I need to pick up the child," he says. "You'll be all right here?"

You rub your eyes, trying to clear your head. "Give me a minute, I'll come with you. I need to figure out where to stay tonight. Look for some work. Maybe your friend can point me in the right direction."

You've gotten so used to having to read him through the armor, it's startling to see the expression of surprise on his face. Like he'd forgotten he only offered you a ride this far. I'll get off at the next port, you'd told him. Tatooine is it.

He settles down beside you, now, watching you sip at the caff. You're halfway through the mug and thinking you'd better get up and get ready, when he reaches out to rest his hand against the side of your head, then draw his fingers through your hair. 

"We didn't get to finish, did we," he says. "Will you stay?"

Tatooine's twin suns are making complicated shadows on the ground of the repair bay. You have to squint against the bright light as you and he make your way down the ramp. 

You're wearing the same clothes as yesterday--it's all you've got that's anywhere close to clean--but you've made yourself presentable, checking your hair in the shiny surface of the beskar breastplate that's still propped against a wall. 

You made sure he looks presentable too, finger-combing tangled curls into submission before you let him out the door. 

Peli emerges from the shop with the child perched on her hip. As soon as he catches sight of the man beside you, the little arms reach out and he's bouncing to be let down.

Peli looks up and lets out a whoop of surprise. "Well how about that! I always wondered what was under there." She finally notices the child's struggles and sets him gently down. "You go ahead to your papa."

The little creature toddles across the yard to be scooped up and examined. "Did you have fun?" He tucks the child in the crook of his arm and crosses the rest of the way to Peli. "What do I owe you?"

She's staring at him unabashedly. You can appreciate her appreciation for how that shirt fits.

"I don't know how you did it," she says to you, "but I'd say this is an improvement. Although," she confides, as if he's not standing right there, "there was something appealing about all that--" she gestures to her own shoulders, hinting at the shape of pauldrons-- "all that shiny.

"Now go on." She's waving the three of you back toward the ship. "I've got a freighter coming in here any minute, and he's actually going to pay me. If you can get that thing off the ground," she adds as if to herself, and then to you, "You tell him if breaks that thing again he better bring it here to be fixed. No more of that Mon Calamari nonsense."

You've got no idea what she's talking about, but it's nice to know that somebody else cares about this man and his odd little child. 

You'll go along with them for a while, you think, see where things lead. Offer to do what you can around the ship, help out wherever they're headed next. 

Mostly though, you're looking forward to seeing what happens tonight, once the baby's tucked in and you're alone together again.

[twoidiotwriters1]

The whole package (Diego Hargreeves x Fem! reader)

A/N:  Okay, I'm finally catching up with the requests... And how exciting that they have already confirmed the third season of Umbrella Academy!!!!

Words: 2,115

Request:   Hi! So I saw your requests are open... here goes one! For Diego from TUA: he starts dating this girl, and after some time she decides that it’s time for him to meet her little daughter. I think he would be kind of wary around her at the beginning, but he would eventually warm up to her and ve just so soft around her? Anyways, I think that at the time he would introduce his girl and his not by blood but in bond little one to his siblings, they would see what a natural softy papa bear he is💕

The couple is in the small room that he rents in the gym where he also works. Both lying on the bed, Diego slowly strokes her hair, while Y/N traces her fingers on his chest. 

"I've been thinking," says Diego. 

"Oh no. That’s never a good sign,” the girl jokes and Diego makes a face.

“Anyway, I was thinking,” he continues, “we’ve never talked about meeting our families.” Y/N's body tenses. She moves away a little and sits next to him. 

"I thought you didn't want me to meet your family." He raises his eyebrows. 

"Well," Diego scratches his head. "I'm not excited, they are insane, but..." He looks at her. "Wait, don't you want to meet them?" 

"If you say it's a bad idea, I don't see why making it so important," She responds, looking away. 

"I think you are the first girlfriend I’ve had that doesn’t want to meet my siblings, not even my mother," he suspects. 

"It's not a big deal, Diego," She says. 

"We've been dating for over a year now, don't you think we should at least talk about it?" He sits up. 

"Why do you suddenly want to do it?" 

"Why are you getting defensive?" 

She opens her mouth, but the words get stuck. 

“Do you have something against my siblings? Believe me, it's not something that would surprise me, Vanya's ex-boyfriend is proof of that, but I want to know if something happened–" 

“No, I don't know them, Diego. It's just that- if I meet them, it means that you too will want to meet my family.” She bends her legs and hugs them against her chest. 

Diego feels pressure on his chest when he sees her in that defenceless way. 

"Hey," He grabs her chin. "Is there something wrong with your family? I thought you simply weren’t on speaking terms with your parents..." 

"I am, but, they have a good reason to be upset." 

"What are you afraid of?"

"You won't want to be with me anymore," She says with a pout. 

Diego frowns. 

"What? Why do you think that? I’ve done everything to be able to go out with you, blood, sweat and tears..." 

"I'm serious." 

"Me too! Honey, I can assure you that there will be nothing that can scare me or keep me from your side. With the family I have, nothing can do it." 

She bites her lower lip. 

"I don’t know..." 

"Trust me." 

Y/N sighs and reconsiders the possibility. She remembers everything they've been through together since he tried to flirt with her after that fight at the gym. The determination of man to get her attention. 

She admits that Diego is a great man, tender, protective, funny, responsible, a little clumsy and stupid, but in the end he always manages to make her smile despite the fights. And after he has confessed everything that had to happen with his family, she knows that there are no more secrets. 

“Ok, but you should know that this is a huge step for our relationship. I've never gotten this far with someone else." 

He’s surprised to see her so serious but doesn’t push his luck. 

"I'm ready for the whole package, baby." 

*** 

"Last chance to go, Di," She says when they both arrive at her apartment door. 

“No matter how much you say it, I won’t leave. You won't have a pet spider or something like that right?" He jokes, but when she doesn't answer, the nerves grow. "Tell me please, at least it's not a tarantula–" 

"I don't have a spider," She says rolling her eyes. 

He opens the door and the two enter. Y/N leaves the keys on a small table and walks through the small apartment.

"Daisy?" 

Diego stares at the place. He pauses at some picture frames and laughs when he sees one of his girlfriend as a little girl with a ball in her hand, smiling at the camera showing some a gap between her teeth. 

"Mommy!" the high-pitched scream makes him turn quickly, only to witness the moment when a little brown-haired girl runs into Y/N's arms and she carries her. "You’re early, I must show you the best drawing of my life!" 

The woman laughs. 

"You said yesterday's drawing was the best of your life." 

"Mommy, that was yesterday!" replies the girl moving her hand from one side to the other. 

Y/N puts her down, but before the little girl could leave, her mother takes her hand and crouches down to her height. 

“Daisy, I want you to meet someone first. Do you remember what we talked about yesterday?" 

Daisy looks up and finds Diego standing next to the television. She turns away from her mother and walks slowly towards him. 

“Hi, my name is Daisy. Are you my mom's boyfriend?" 

Diego isn’t sure of what to do. 

"Uh, yes?" he says nervously. 

The girl asks tilting her head and then goes back to her mother. "Are you sure it's him?" Y/N laughs and walks over. 

"Daisy, this is Diego. Diego, this is my daughter Daisy." 

The man comes out of his shock and begins to notice the great similarities between the girl and his girlfriend. She is the girl in the photograph. 

"Uh- Hi," he says tensely. 

"You're good?" Y/N asks. 

"Yes! Yes, I'm okay. I’m just surprised. Uh, you look a lot alike." 

"Can I go get my drawing now?" says the girl and his mother nods.

"Sure you're okay?" 

"Sorry, I'm not good with children," he says nervously. 

"Don't worry, she's only 8 years old." 

"They're the worst." 

"Diego!" 

"I'm sorry," He sighs. "Wait, were you afraid that I would break up with you because you have a daughter?" 

"It wouldn’t be the first time. Since she was born every time I mention the possibility of a child, everyone runs away and I didn't want you to do it." 

He takes her hand and with the other, he caresses her cheek. "I'm still here and rest assured that I'm not going anywhere unless you want me to." 

"Aren't you scared?" 

"Yes, but not because of what you think," He grimaces. “You know I didn't have a good childhood and I’ve never dealt with children. What if she hates me?" 

Y/N laughs when she sees her boyfriend's nervousness and feels one less weight off her.

"I will not lie to you, she can be difficult sometimes, but she will love you."

"Difficult, huh?" He says raising a brow. "Just like her mother." 

"Don't try to win her over as you did with me, she’s not as patient with idiots."

"At least I have a clue," He leans down and gently kisses her lips. 

"Ew, stop kissing!" The girl screams. "Leave my mom alone!" 

"Daisy, don't be rude!" 

"Okay, now I see the resemblance." 

*** 

"Diego, your hands are sweating," says Daisy wiping her hand on his pants.

"I'm sorry. I’m nervous." 

"Why?" 

“My family’s crazy, Dais. I don’t know what will happen."

"Are they dangerous?" 

"Do I look dangerous to you?" 

"No, actually I think you're just dumb." 

"Daisy!" Her mother scolds her and Diego laughs. 

"Yes, so are my brothers." 

The three arrive at the academy, before opening the door, Diego stops. Y/N take his hand. "Everything will be fine. We’re with you." 

Daisy's little hand takes his again. Diego opens the door and the three enter the large Hargreeves mansion. 

The first thing they hear is the echo of heels approaching. Grace approaches the little family with a huge smile. 

"Hello, darling," she says, opening her arms and Diego surrounds her in a big hug.

"Hi, Mom," He stands aside and smiles. "These are Y/N and Daisy." 

The woman greets both with a hug. 

"Diego has told me many good things about you." 

"You don't look like a robot," says Daisy. 

"Daisy!" 

Grace laughs. 

"That's the idea, sweetie. Would you like to try the cookies I just baked?" The girl's eyes light up, but before she can respond, she looks at her mother asking for permission, when she nods to her, she turns to Diego and he, surprised, also nods. 

"Yes!" She squeals and takes Grace's hand, the two of them walk into the kitchen.

"One less," says Y/N. 

"She didn't worry me," Diego answers, grimacing. 

"Son of a bitch!" 

"That’s the real problem."

Another scream echoes through the house and then a thin, brown-haired man runs up the stairs and reaches the two adults. 

"Diego! Hello, how nice to see you after such a long time,” He says, trying to control his breathing. "Oh, you must be the mistress, nice to meet you!" He says, taking her hand and shaking it exaggeratedly. 

"Klaus..." growls Diego. 

"What? I'm being nice, just like you asked." 

Before anyone could say anything, a blue light flashes behind Klaus, scaring all three of them. 

"Give me back my money!" The boy mutters. 

"Five! What are those manners? We have a guest!” says Klaus pointing to Y/N. Five frowns and looks at the girl. 

"Oh, yeah. Hi." 

"It's a pleasure to meet you..." She answers a little unsure. 

"I only asked you for a day without nonsense!" Diego sighs. 

"Oh, they’re here!" says a woman coming down the hall. 

"She's Allison," Diego moves away from his other two brothers who are already fighting again. 

“Hi, it's a pleasure to meet the girl Diego talks about so much. You really don't know how tiring it is!" 

Y/N laughs. 

"I still remember when you said that no girl would make you weak and look at you now, blushing like a little boy!" 

"I did not say that." 

"That sounds like something you would say," adds his girlfriend and he blushes even more.

“Anyway, where are Ben and Vanya? They are my last hope..." 

"Why is there so much noise? What's going on? Who are you?" says a very tall blond man.

"I guess your ape brain doesn't remember that we have an important dinner today, Luther," says Diego through clenched teeth. 

"Uh, yeah. Hello.” Luther shakes her hand. 

"They’re so many," Y/N whispers to Diego. 

"And there are two still missing..." 

"Hey, I don't want to scare anyone," Allison says. "But Ben is arguing with a girl in the kitchen." 

Allison, Diego and Y/N go to the kitchen, while Luther notices that Five and Klaus are fighting, so he stays to break the fight. 

"The movie is better!" 

"How is it better? I tell you, the book is much better!" 

"I don’t like reading. It's boring." 

"That's not my fault." 

"It's not my fault that you're boring either." 

"Listen to me, girl–" 

"Ben," says Diego. “Are you arguing with an 8-year-old girl? 

"She started!" He points out. 

"Vanya, why didn't you tell them anything?" Allison says looking at the girl sitting at the end of the table. 

"I did, but no one paid any attention to me, so I just waited to see what was going to happen," She shrugs. 

"Di, your siblings are very strange, but your robot mom made us chocolate cookies" adds Daisy taking one from the plate and offers it to her mother. 

"Daisy, you said you were going to be good," Y/N says taking the cookie.

“It was Ben's fault. She said the Harry Potter books were better than the movies."

"They are!" 

"It’s not true!"

"Very well family, dinner is served," says Grace entering the kitchen. 

The entire Hargreeves family reunion with Y/N and Daisy was anything but boring. Y/N is delighted with Allison's style, Five's intelligence, Klaus's ideas, Vanya's calmness, Ben's acquaintance, and was even able to see something good in Luther, with whom she had less interaction. 

She’s happy to meet her boyfriend's family, especially seeing how her little daughter laughs, discusses and interacts with everyone. It seemed very natural to be with so many people and she’s sure the Hargreeves felt it too. 

"Everything went fine after all," She whispers leaning towards Diego at the table.

“You’re still here. It's what matters,” He says with a lopsided smile. 

"Oh, I don't think Dais wants to leave soon," They look at the girl who listens carefully to something that Five’s explaining to her. "I'm glad she gets along with everyone… it's always been just her and me." 

Diego takes her hand. 

"That ended. You will not be alone again." 

She smiles at him and kisses his lips. 

"Ew!" yells Daisy. 

"No demonstrations, please," says Luther. 

"There are children here!" 

"Some of us are eating!" 

"How cheesy..." 

“Get a room!” 

The others continue, making the couple laugh. 

"I can't believe you're still here after all this circus," says Diego. 

"We’re ready for the whole package, love."

[fixitfest]

Anon Master List

TITLE: A Gift RATING: T WORD COUNT: 912 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Sirius Black Lives, Fix-It, References to Footloose (1984), Fluff, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Harry is only mentioned, he doesn't appear, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Canon Compliant, technically, Hopeful Ending SUMMARY: This was meant to be something very different but what it turned into was soft affection and movie night at 12 Grimmauld Place and learning each other again. READ IT ON AO3: A Gift

TITLE: the beauty of a secret (you have to keep it) RATING: G WORD COUNT: 14600 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Slow Burn, Fluff and Angst, Remus's supportive parents, Christmas Fluff, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, this is really soft and so self-indulgent, First Kiss, Mutual Pining, POV Remus Lupin SUMMARY: When Remus asked Sirius to be his fake-date for them to visit his parents for the Christmas holidays, he hadn't expected it to go that well, not really. No one, least of all Remus could have predicted how rapidly it deteriorated, especially with his long hidden feelings that were too close to the surface. READ IT ON AO3: the beauty of a secret (you have to keep it)

TITLE: Be My Baby RATING: M WORD COUNT: 21876 ADDITIONAL TAGS: wolfstar, RS Fix It Fest 2020, Dirty Dancing AU, 1960s America, Coming of Age, Coming Out, Black!James, Cuban!Sirius, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Fluff, Romance, Dancing, Summer Love, Period-Typical Homophobia, Period-Typical Racism, but both are pretty mild!, Meet-Cute, Getting Together, First Time, dance SUMMARY: It’s the summer of 1963, and 18 year old Remus Lupin discovers dance, love, and even himself. (A very romantic and very gay Dirty Dancing AU.) READ IT ON AO3: Be My Baby

TITLE: Good Year RATING: T WORD COUNT: 1024 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Sirius Black Lives, Remus Lupin Lives, Professor Sirius Black, Professor Remus Lupin, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, middle-aged wolfstar, they’re alive and happy and they kiss and laugh a lot SUMMARY: Sirius and Remus one happy morning before the start of their first year of teaching at Hogwarts together. Set the year after the end of the Second Wizarding War. READ IT ON AO3: Good Year

TITLE: Hic sunt dracones RATING: E WORD COUNT: 4941 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, First War with Voldemort, Canon Compliant, Happy Ending, Romance, Makeup, Mirror Sex, Intercrural Sex, Sharing a Bed, RS Fix It Fest 2020, POV Remus Lupin SUMMARY: Remus and Sirius try putting on makeup and end up trying a lot more: sex, kissing, and maybe even talking about feelings. READ IT ON AO3: Hic sunt dracones

TITLE: In the Shadow of Your Heart, It's the Only Way I Can Escape RATING: M WORD COUNT: 10032 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Alternate Universe - Muggle, Magicians, sort of a The Prestige au, POV Alternating, Non-Linear Narrative, POV Sirius Black, POV Remus Lupin, Rivals to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Sort Of, Strangers to Lovers, magician Sirius, Magician Remus, escape artist Remus, Non-Sexual Bondage, Remus is sort of based on Houdini, Buried Alive, Everybody Lives, Nobody is Dead, I promise nobody dies SUMMARY: The lights glittered upon the stage, dust particles floating, the light catching on the shiny buttons of the man’s jacket. The boards creaked as he strutted across them, a faint sound only heard if you were listening for it. The heavy velvet curtains hung on either side of the stage framing whatever spectacle was to occur. Or where two sort-of rival magicians perform on stage, confront mortality, and realize that past passion can be present love. READ IT ON AO3: In the Shadow of Your Heart, It’s the Only Way I Can Escape

TITLE: Just Sleep RATING: T WORD COUNT: 1403 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Raising Harry Potter SUMMARY: Remus didn't want to open the door but he almost closes it when he find Sirius back a kidnapped harry under his coat. READ IT ON AO3: Just Sleep

TITLE: La Vie en Rose RATING: G WORD COUNT: 1732 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Canon Compliant, Post-full moon, Pining, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sirius Black Speaks French, Depressed Sirius Black, Song: La Vie En Rose, POV Sirius Black, Singing SUMMARY: "Remus was lying against him, fast asleep and very human. Sirius was struck with how much older he seemed, now that he was close enough for Sirius to study him. But he still looked as beautiful as ever." It is only Remus and Sirius left in Grimmauld Place after the children return to school. This alone time leaves Sirius facing feelings he buried a long time ago. READ IT ON AO3: La Vie en Rose

TITLE: night rides RATING: G ADDITIONAL TAGS: Art, Digital Art, Alternate Universe - High School, Motorcycles, Fluff SUMMARY: first time riding the motorcycle together READ IT ON AO3: night rides

TITLE: On how to become a DDA teacher RATING: G ADDITIONAL TAGS: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Everyone Is Alive, Living Together, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Marauders Friendship (Harry Potter), Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, trying new things, Happy Ending, RS Fix It Fest 2020, Fanart, Fix-It SUMMARY: Remus prepares himself for his new position as Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Just some domestic bliss drawn for the RS Fix It Fest 2020. READ IT ON AO3: On how to become a DDA teacher

TITLE: On The Mat RATING: E WORD COUNT: 14265 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Meet-Cute, Getting Together, Yoga, Yoga Teacher Sirius Black, Yoga Student Remus Lupin, Dubious use of a yoga mat, Anal Sex, Rimming, Blow Jobs, Deep Throating, safe sex, we are pro condoms in this fic, Fluff and Smut, Top Sirius Black, Bottom Remus Lupin SUMMARY: The intimate happenings of Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and a yoga mat. READ IT ON AO3: On The Mat

TITLE: The Pipe Under The Sink RATING: T WORD COUNT: 5253 ADDITIONAL TAGS: FixItFest2020, trying new things, wolfstar, unemployed!Sirius, bookshop!Remus, Baker!James, Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, muggle problems, Domestic Fluff, Baby Harry Potter, Self-Esteem Issues, Love SUMMARY: After being together for so long, Sirius worries Remus doesn't find him sexy anymore. Sirius finds some inspiration from James and decides to show off his sexiness by fixing the kitchen sink...the muggle way. READ IT ON AO3: The Pipe Under The Sink

TITLE: Quality Lighting RATING: T WORD COUNT: 4959 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Magic, Alternate Universe - College/University, Erotic Photography, Get together fic, Happy Ending, POV Remus Lupin, POV Sirius Black SUMMARY: “Give it back!” Remus pitched forward in a desperate attempt to swipe his phone back from his roommate.

“Why?” Sirius asked with a laugh as he started to scroll. “Am I going to find your OnlyFans content or something?”

Remus choked out a laugh of his own. “Very funny. Now please—”

“Oh.” READ IT ON AO3: Quality Lighting

TITLE: We’re Not Like Them RATING: G WORD COUNT: 21574 ADDITIONAL TAGS: First War with Voldemort, Post-Hogwarts, Muggle London, London in the Eighties, Hyde Park, James Potter & Lily Evans Potter Live, Order of the Phoenix - Freeform, Angst, Marlene and Remus's friendship, Godric's Hollow, Character Study SUMMARY: Sirius leaves the flat for hours on end and doesn't tell Remus where he's been. Remus skulks silently in the shadows, forgotten by everyone he once called a friend, and secrets are being kept between the four of them. Remus doesn't even know if they will last the war, and Sirius decides that he wants a child. Remus thinks that they're twenty-one, fighting for their lives, and not like James and Lily. READ IT ON AO3: We’re Not Like Them

TITLE: The Words Beneath Your Door RATING: M WORD COUNT: 11723 ADDITIONAL TAGS: POV Remus Lupin, POV First Person, Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Getting Together, Roommates, Canon Divergence - Post-Hogwarts, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), First Kiss, Remus Lupin is a florid little shit, and Sirius reads Muggle encyclopedias for fun, gratuitous use of The Runaways, and cardamom biscuits, Fix-It, Domestic, and very very toshy, Implied/Referenced Drug Use SUMMARY:It is 1979, Remus is steadily losing control of his higher functions, and Sirius won't stop fucking touching him. Perhaps the two are related, but there isn't enough space left in the cold fusion core of Remus' brain to parse that out. READ IT ON AO3: The Words Beneath Your Door

TITLE: Young Hearts Intertwined RATING: T WORD COUNT: 11643 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Fix-It, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First War with Voldemort, Fluff, Schmoop, Weddings, Established Relationship, Summer, Welsh Remus Lupin, Desi Potter Family (Harry Potter), Desi Sirius Black SUMMARY: There’s a special kind of magic to a wartime wedding. READ IT ON AO3: Young Hearts Intertwined

TITLE: You're My Lover, Not My Rival RATING: M WORD COUNT: 3734 ADDITIONAL TAGS: Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Friendship/Love, Best Friends, Getting Together, Casual Sex, Happy Sex, Threesome - F/M/M, Prophecy, Drinking & Talking, Smoking, Fix-It, RS Fix It Fest 2020, True Love, Canon Divergence, Bisexuality SUMMARY: Remus can't do relationships, or so he thinks. READ IT ON AO3: You’re My Lover, Not My Rival

[drreporting]

Infections of A Different Kind of Human

2. Gentle Earthquakes

“Did you talk to Arizona as yet?”

Amelia sighed, trying to mask her irritation as she scrubbed her nails. “I sent her a text earlier, Owen. It’s only been a half hour.”

“I know, I know. I’m just asking because I’m worried about you,” he relented, taking his place next to her as he grabbed a sponge to scrub. Within two hours of her telling him the news, her condition had progressively worsened. “You mentioned to me that you were feeling crampy earlier, you’re nauseous, and you just told me your shoulder was hurting you.”

“For your information, I meant crampy in mood,” she quipped, although she was stretching the truth a bit. In all honesty, she did feel very uncomfortable, but couldn’t pinpoint where exactly the feeling was originating. “Although I do feel like I might shit myself soon, so we better hurry up with the surgery before it ends up on you.”

Owen shook his head and smiled. “That’s too much information, and you know it.” She winked back at him and smiled, turning on the water to rinse her hands. Owen observed her washing her hands, seeing on her face that there was something she wasn’t telling him.

---

Screw everyone, she thought as she walked to the parking lot. They were all watching her like she’d lost her marbles and she was tired of it. Maybe doing the surgery at Hopkins was better, that way, no one would even know she was sick. But how was she going to take a vacation?

“Rosie, what’s wrong?” Ryan exclaimed to his sister, “Why are you being so quiet?” Normally, the little girl would answer him, but she was in a mood so sour that she barely even recognised that he’d told her something to begin. She just gazed up at her mother with a look of betrayed trust.

They came up to the car and Amelia unlocked the door, saying, “Why don’t you help your sister in the car, instead of provoking her, hmm?” Ryan blushed a little and nodded, opening the car door, and helping Rosie in, before getting in himself. “Do you need anything in the trunk?” Both kids shook their heads. Amelia closed the door and walked to the back of the vehicle. Once she opened the trunk, she began offloading the various school bags and lunch kits she’d been carrying and, as she closed the trunk, she felt an odd presence behind her, almost as if the wind expelled from the trunk gave away the person’s location.

“Don’t turn around,” a voice suddenly said, as though he knew Amelia had spotted him in the reflection of the windscreen glass the second he appeared. An object poked the middle of her back as the voice said, “Everything. Now.” For a moment she stood there, in a bit of shock, as she began to process the situation. But she didn’t want things to escalate, so she complied. She took off her two rings, and she unlatched the gold around her neck, a necklace Owen had gifted her last year. She rested them on the hood of the trunk in front of her, resting her handbag next to the jewellery as she awaited his response. Slowly but surely, a hand crept forward, grabbing the jewellery. The hand then came back, digging in her bag. She watched as it fished around in it, taking out her purse. He opened the thing, stripped her of all her cash and cards, but not before asking, “Where are the keys?” Her eyes darted up from their previous position, looking through the back glass of the car and at her kids sitting quietly, staring back at her. It was the one thing she was hoping not to hear. She couldn’t answer him, because she had them, and she was hoping he’d have been satisfied with the other possessions. But no, now he wanted her car too, and she couldn’t let him have it; her kids were in there.

His hand closed around her upper arm as he forcefully spun her around, pushing her against the adjacent car. Grabbing her by her throat, he asked once more, “Where are the keys?” His breath was shaky, and his eyes were crazed as they bore into her, almost as if he was strung out on drugs. He dug the gun deep into her stomach now, and she wondered if he’d noticed the other people in the car, if he would have mercy on them. She doubted it.

“So you’re not going to tell me?” Keeping the hand around her neck, he used the gun to caress her body, poking it into her jacket, grazing it across her blouse, searching for the keys himself. She could see the look of pure ecstasy on his face as he revelled in the power he had, mixed in with a bit of lust as he let the gun hook around the collar of her blouse, pulling it down a bit. “Is it in here?” She averted her gaze in disgust as tears began to brim in her eyes. “Or maybe I should ask your kids where they are?” he taunted her, pointing the gun in the direction of her car now. “Hmm?”

It was that final gesture that had made her snap, had shifted her brain into something she could only describe as her ‘fight or flight’ response. This was the only opportunity she would likely have, a moment of weakness that she could take advantage of and hopefully succeed. With every nerve on fire in her body, Amelia jumped at the man, her right hand outstretched for the gun.

---

Muffled voices, complete chaos, and the high-pitched sound ringing through Owen’s ears from the sound of the gunshot, were all he could focus on. That, and the fervent cries of his children, whom that man had just blatantly shot at, without hesitation. Uncurling from his previous position, Owen sat up with the twins still in his arms, droplets of blood splattered across Finn’s face as he bawled his eyes out. At first, his immediate reaction was to search the boy for any injuries, but the second Owen lifted his left arm, a searing pain shot through his entire body.

“Hunt, don’t move!” Meredith yelled at him, rushing to his side, “You’re hurt!” Derek followed too, taking the twins out of his arms, and rushing them to the nearest available bed, while Meredith began to assess the wound.

“What about Finn and Isabella?” the worried father asked as he rose to his feet, aided by Meredith.

“They’re okay,” Derek called from across the ER. That was a relief, he thought. But just as quickly as the relief washed over him, dread took over. Amelia.

“Meredith, I need a gurney, IV fluids, and you need to call the blood bank,” Owen said as he began backing out of the ER. “A positive blood.”

“Blood? What are you talking about?” she inquired, still not getting the point.

“It’s not for me,” he replied as the automatic doors opened. He turned, sprinting out of the ER, leaving Meredith to wonder who all those things were for, if not for him.

“Mer, can you come over here for a second?” Derek asked. She walked over to him, smiling at the two babies in front of her, who were still recovering from shock. “Has anyone called or checked on Amelia?”

It was then that it clicked in her head. “No, but I think Owen just went to do that. He told me to order up a bunch of stuff, almost as if…oh no…”

“Let’s not assume anything as yet,” he answered, a calm response compared to how he was truly feeling. He hoped to god that his little sister was okay. “Order up the stuff, just in case. And we need to call the police and report the stolen car. Probably cash and cards too.”

The more time Owen had to think, the more he was convinced that something terrible had happened to Amelia. It was funny, that after everything that had happened today, after the way she’d been treating him the past four months, after catching her with someone else, he was running for his life down the ambulance bay, to the parking lot. And maybe he still cared, and maybe he didn’t, but he couldn’t stand the thought of something bad happening to her again, leaving their children motherless, and destroying their family. Then again, he probably wouldn’t have had a family anyways, even if she was okay. He was conflicted by all these thoughts, wondering which were true and which were just bitter responses. That was when he saw the small, 4-foot-high figure of their eldest, running towards him.

“Ryan?!” Owen yelled at the little boy. He ended up crashing right into him, and his hands wrapped around his shoulders as he looked down at the boy. There was blood all over his clothes, on his shoes, his pants, and it was beginning to stain into his white shirt and blue jacket. “What happened, are you hurt?”

The young boy shook his head. “It’s mommy.” And just like that, Owen began to feel a chill run down his spine. He gave the boy another once over, noting that he was, without a doubt, covered in more of his mother’s blood than she probably had left.

“Okay, go into the ER and tell Uncle Derek and Aunty Mer what happened. Tell them where she got shot. And tell them you need 8 or more pints of A positive blood. Can you remember all that?” Ryan nodded emotionlessly, as though all life had been drained from his face. Without prompting, he began running again, straight for the ER doors. Owen stared at where he had just been holding the boy; his hands were bloodied and shaking like two rattle snakes. He could feel it in his bones that this time would not be like all the other times Amelia had been hurt. No, this time…this time she could die. And just the bare thought of that happening flipped a switch in his head, and he couldn’t stop running, he wouldn’t. Not until he found her.

The second Ryan stepped into the busy ER, everyone stopped what they were doing and became silent.  They all stared, eyes agape, as their brains began processing the information it was being fed.

“Ryan,” Derek was the first to say, walking towards his young nephew slowly, “What…what happened? Are you hurt?” Seeing the young boy drenched in blood from head to toe was a horrifying view, one he would never forget.

Remembering what Owen had said to him, Ryan’s first words were, “Mommy got shot.” He brought his fingers to the lower right quadrant of his torso. “Right here.” He dropped his hands. “Owen said you need 8 pints of A positive blood.” Everybody heard clearly what Ryan had said, and yet no one moved.

“Meredith,” Derek muttered amidst the silence, looking at his wife with a face that, for once, she couldn’t read, “Where is April?”

“I think she and Jackson have left for the evening already,” she calmly responded as she pulled out her phone, “But I can page them and see if she hasn’t gone too far.”

“Thank you,” he responded as he lifted both twins, “I’m gonna take these two to day care, just in case.”

“Ryan, let’s get you cleaned up,” Meredith called, beckoning the boy, “Where is your sister?”

“She’s with Dr. Kepner and Dr. Avery,” Ryan responded as he followed her, “She was holding the wound before they came.” They entered a supply closet and she turned around, furrowing her eyes at the little boy before going to the back to seek a new outfit for him.

“Why didn’t you help her?” she inquired, finding a jacket and loose fitted joggers. When she turned back around, she was surprised to find tears in the boy’s eyes.

“I was afraid,” he whispered, averting his eyes to the ground, “I have never seen so much blood, not even at the hospital.” He closed his eyes in shame, letting the tears fall as he confessed, “Rosie wasn’t scared, I don’t know why.” He stuck his hands out for the clothes, and Meredith gave it to him, her heart aching for the poor boy. “What if she dies because I was afraid to help her?” he asked, his face showing all of his devastation, “What if…”

“Ryan, everything is going to be okay,” Meredith told the boy, pulling him in for a hug, even though he was still soaked in the blood, “Everything will work out how it’s supposed to.” And for the life of her, Meredith sure hoped that was true.

---

BANG.

April heard the sound, clear as day, pulling her son behind the nearest car as she shielded him. She heard a body dropping, and then the jingle of keys.

“Get out!” a voice yelled; one she couldn’t determine. Taking the risk to peek out the front of the bonnet, April was just in time to see Amelia’s car reversing haphazardly out of its space, before screeching off, leaving Ryan and Rosie to stand in front of someone she could only assume was Amelia.

“Jackson!” she yelled, running towards them, Samuel’s hand still in hers, “Jackson!” Once she was near enough, she noticed Ryan was frozen still, staring down at his mother, while Rosie appeared to be helping Amelia to stop the bleeding. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t freeze too, just out of pure shock. And, to make matters worse, she heard another shot ring off in the direction that the man had driven.

“April?” Jackson called, nearing, “What in the world is going on? Wait…is that…” He looked down at the body and noticed that it was, in fact, Amelia.

“Hold Samuel,” she said, abandoning the boy to get on the ground, “Hey, Ryan?” The young Shepherd looked at April, a lost gaze in his eyes. “I bet you would be great help at telling the hospital what happened?” He stared at her for a moment before nodding and running to the ER entrance.

Now that Ryan was out of the way, April scooted to Amelia’s side and pressed her hands over Rosie’s. “I think I can handle it from here, but you’ve been great help, Rosie.”

“Yeah?” the girl asked, looking into her eyes for validation. April nodded, and Rosie released her pressure, pulling her hands out from under their bigger counterparts.

“Go wait over there with Dr. Avery,” she instructed. As soon as the girl was out of earshot, Amelia began to groan and whine, gripping at the area where she had been shot. “Amelia relax, relax. You’ve just been shot-,”

“I fucking know April,” she managed to moan out bitterly. Tears came to her eyes as she began to feel fluid rising in her throat.

“Jackson, we need a first aid kit or something to stop this bleeding,” April exclaimed. Despite her steady pressure, she could feel the blood pumping out of Amelia with each rapid beat of her heart, and the increasing size of the surrounding pool only served to emphasize how much she was really losing. It had to be her aorta that was damaged, she was almost certain.

“April, I go for that kit, I won’t make it back in time,” he worded carefully, and she knew exactly what he was insinuating. Amelia wouldn’t make it in time. They would be wasting time by prolonging the condition; she needed immediate attention. So now the question was, what to do?

“We need to get her in the ER,” she voiced, “The gauze applicator will stop the bleeding and give us time. Can you carry her?”

“My shoulder is still healing, I can try,” he said, “But who’s going to hold Harriet?”

April unwrapped the scarf around her neck and placed it over Amelia’s wound. “Amelia, can you hold this here?”

The neurosurgeon shook her head, coughing up blood. “Can’t feel.” Can’t feel?

“What can’t you feel?” April prodded her for more information, but she could see her eyes fluttering and fighting to stay open, “Amelia?”

“April….” Jackson called, pointing behind her. Turning around, she noticed Owen standing behind them, a few feet away, and staring. Everybody seemed to be frozen today.

“Amelia,” Owen called, suddenly finding his motion once more. He crashed onto the ground, next to April, as he tried to assess the situation. “No, no, no, no, no…” he kept mumbling the word as he covered one hand over the scarf and cradled her.

“Owen, we need to take her into the ER,” April advised the man, but Owen was more concerned with waking her up. Tears were streaming down his face like two waterfalls, and Rosie had honestly never seen her father so devastated and so confused. Especially considering what she saw earlier this evening, the last thing she expected him to do was cry over her.

“Amelia, wake up,” he begged. When her eyes opened slowly, tears came into them as he watched her constricted blues stare back at him.

“Owen?” she whispered hoarsely, lifting her arm to hold his bicep. Using nearly all of her strength, she moved the hand to cup his cheek, smearing the entire side of his face in her blood as tears came to her eyes. “Can you forgive me?” The calmness in her voice sent shivers down his spine, and his gut was giving him all the worst feelings right now. “Because I think I’m dying, and I don’t want-”

“Amelia, you are not dying,” he sternly told her, his voice cracking at the end.

“I am, I can feel it,” she insisted, a weak, broken smile on her face. “Are you bleeding?” Lifting his hand off the wound, April noticed the bleeding had slowed, and she and Jackson exchanged a look of worry.

“I am,” Owen confirmed, “But I’m okay, and you will be too.” Her fingers ended up grabbing at the edge of his collar, before slowly slipping down and falling limp.

“Owen, we are wasting precious time,” April fussed, and she was right. He was wasting her last moments on a goodbye when he should’ve been trying to save her. So he did the only thing he could think to do; he lifted her up. And he began jogging back to the ER.

---

“Amelia!” Owen shouted, reaching to her side just in time to catch her fall, and unfortunately breaking scrub, “Amelia, can you hear me?” When he received no response, he looked to the scrub nurse and said, “Page trauma, page Robbins.” The nurse obeyed his orders and, looking to their current chief resident, he added, “Find me a replacement trauma and neurosurgeon.” Pulling Amelia into his arms, he yelled out, “And somebody get me a gurney!” He disconnected the headlight from her head and began pulling her out of scrub. It was only as he got deeper below her garments, he began to notice blood, soaking everything from her waist down. A cold chill zoomed down his spine as he feared the worst, the words of this morning bitterly replaying in his head. “Imagine if it’s twins again.”

---

Owen barged into the ER, pushing past anyone in his way to get Amelia to a gurney. Seeing his colleagues all surrounded by one specific bed, he chose to lay her down there and, the second he did, he began initiating CPR, while April applied the pressurized gauze to the wound, temporarily plugging the hole and stopping the bleeding, at least until they could get into surgery. Meredith attached the monitors to her, while Jo attached a central line. Isaac check her pupils, notifying them that her eyes were dilated, but no one seemed to care, especially not Owen. They were far more concerned about bring her back to life; brain death was unimportant. Once Meredith got the monitor on, the ER was suddenly filled with the gruelling noise of an unsteady rhythm, which would likely lead to a flatline if they didn’t hurry.

“He can’t be here,” Meredith voiced to Isaac, “Someone needs to take over for him.” Isaac looked at his chief, and then at Owen.

Walking over to his side, Isaac placed a hand on Owen’s shoulder, offering softly, “Hunt, let me take over. You can’t work on family.”

“Don’t you dare touch me you homewrecker,” Owen growled through his gritted teeth, continuing his effort to resuscitate. After what transpired this evening, Isaac could understand the hatred Owen probably had for him, but that didn’t matter right now. What mattered was Amelia, and an objective decisions needed to be made, and Owen couldn’t do that in his state. Plus, he was contaminating her with all the blood flowing from his shoulder wound.

“I can take over, she will be safe,” Isaac fought, trying to get him to listen, “Dr. Hunt, I need you to step back.” He tugged on Owen’s shoulder once more, which was his biggest mistake. As he felt Isaac’s hand on his shoulder again, Owen thought of what he saw happened today between Amelia and him. He thought of all the times he’d seen them together in that stupid scan room, over the last couple months. He thought of when they weren’t together, and Isaac had taken advantage of her, their home, and their children. He thought of everything in one second, and in one second, he’d managed to throttle him in the face with his closed fist. Within that same second, he felt two hands grab onto his shoulders, holding him back now as he tried to reach across the ER to hit Isaac again, while also wanting to resume his resuscitative efforts. “Let me go!” Owen yelled, “I have to save her.”

“Owen, calm down,” both Jackson and Derek urged, having been the two to hold him back.

“Charging to 250,” April announced, rubbing the gel between the two pads, “Everybody, clear!” Everyone stepped away, raising their hands, before she attempted to deliver the lifesaving jolt to her system. Pressing down on her chest with the pads, April watched as Amelia’s body tensed upwards, before dropping back lifelessly to the bed, her rhythm still abnormal. “Resuming CPR.

“I think she’s in hypovolemic shock,” April muttered as she pushed on Amelia’s chest once more, while Jo began to tube her. Once the tube was in, and she was providing mechanical ventilation, April went to try once more. “Charging to 300.” She rubbed the pads together, while Owen watched helplessly, trying to get to her. “CLEAR.” Another shock, no response. “Restarting compressions...”

“April…” Jo murmured, gesturing to the monitor. The trauma surgeon turned to look at the screen, seeing the flatline appear.

Looking back at Jo, she shook her head and said, “We can’t stop.”

“But-,”

“Keep the blood coming!” April yelled to the nurse, “She’s not dead until she’s full of blood and dead!” After 5 more minutes of compressions, and 5 bags of blood later, she finally said, “Charge to 300.” As the paddles began to charge up again, everyone watched with an anticipation like never before. Owen refused to remain calm, consistently trying to break free of Jackson and Derek’s grip on him, while Jo tried her best to get the blood to go faster into her stream. Meredith stood with Rosie and Ryan, who’d seen far more than their little minds could handle, and the rest of the ER was just plain silent; the most silence they’d ever heard.

April grabbed the paddles. “Everyone, CLEAR!” She pressed the paddles to her chest, and once again, her body arched and then dropped lifelessly on the bed. She began chest compressions again, but they all knew it was too late. For ten seconds, no one said anything and then, finally, April stopped.

“Don’t call it,” Owen begged April, tears streaming down his face and making trails in their wake against the blood Amelia had smeared on his face earlier, “April, please.”

Wearily, April responded, “Owen, I have to.” She looked at the watch on her wrist and, just as she was about to say the time of death, there was a beep. And then another. And then another.

“I think we have a rhythm,” Jo yelled excitedly, the shock evident in her eyes, “Oh my god!” But just as the celebration was about to begin, Amelia arched her back, and began having a seizure. It was then Isaac’s turn to come back in, and thankfully he got the seizure under control in a short space of time.

“Is she okay?” Owen asked, finally calming down.

“She’s okay, Owen,” Jo confirmed for him. As the words left her mouth, Owen finally collapsed to the floor, passing out.

“I think we need another gurney,” Jackson said, wiping blood off of his face from his earlier restraint over Owen causing blood to squirt out of his wound and onto him, “His shoulder is bleeding pretty badly.”

“We need to get a CT scan,” Isaac voiced once Amelia had reached some sort of stability.

“We don’t have time,” April insisted, “We need to get her to the OR now. When she’s stable, we’ll do the scan.” Isaac nodded and allowed them to wheel her away, while Derek and Jackson tended to Owen, who was pale and unconscious, drenched in a mixture of his own blood, and Amelia’s.

When Owen finally awoke, he was in a bed in a patient room, his shoulder bandaged and his arm in a sling. The only occupant of the room was Derek, and he sat across from him with a look Owen could only describe as grim and exhausted.

“How are you feeling?” Derek asked, standing up to pour him a glass of water. Owen watched as he walked across the room to the small table near his bed, reaching for the glass  and pouring from the mug into it.

“I feel weak,” he mused, trying to stretch his shoulder. The pain that shot through, though, was enough for him to not do it another time. “Where is Amelia?”

Derek handed him the glass. “5 hours of surgery. They should be closing right now.” Owen took the glass and took a sip of the water as he processed the information. “She lost a lot of blood. They had to replace almost more than half of her blood volume. With that much lost blood…”

“She should’ve died,” Owen finished for him. And yet, by fate, at least for now, Amelia was alive and okay.

“We need to talk about Ryan and Rosie,” Derek said, switching the topic instantly, “I think you should consider a psych check for both of them.”

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he agreed, taking another sip of water. He could probably use a psych session too, after what he’d been through, far less the kids.

“Ryan seems pretty shaken up, but Rosie…” the neurosurgeon divulged, “Rosie seems…fine. Which is weird.”

“Not entirely weird,” Owen told, “She has shown signs of someone who bottles things up. Maybe that’s what she’s doing now.”

“Still,” Derek enthusiastically encouraged, “You should talk to them and see for yourself.” Owen looked up at the Shepherd and nodded. “There’s two other things we need to talk about,” the Shepherd added quickly, “Firstly, the police are waiting here for you to make a report and perhaps a description of the man and Amelia’s license plates and registration for the vehicle.”

“Okay, I can do that,” Owen submitted, “What’s the other thing?”

“You and Amelia never remarried,” he said uncomfortably, wringing his hands, “So you are not her next of kin.”

“Well, then who is the proxy?” Owen asked, completely confused. He thought that Amelia would’ve changed something like that, whether they were married or not.

“It’s uh…” Derek scratched the back of his neck, “It’s under Ryan’s name. It reverted to him after the divorce…”

“Why would she have him as her medical proxy?” Owen wondered aloud.

Derek shrugged his shoulders and sighed. “Amelia is much too complicated for my understanding. That’s for you to figure out.”

“Who is the successor?” the trauma surgeon further prodded.

“It’s Addison.” Derek sighed, combing his fingers through his hair. “Look, Owen, I know this is an impossible situation, and that this is only making it even harder, but-,”

“Derek is that you?” a familiar voice called. Looking to the door, Owen and Derek came face to face with a man, dressed in a long coat, holding a suitcase. He appeared pretty old, his hair was almost completely grey, and his eyes held wrinkles at their corners.

“Tom?” the neurosurgeon named the man, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” the man replied, “I thought you’d have been in DC. I figured that’s why I was called.”

“Wait, who called you?” Owen asked, looking at the Hopkins’ neurosurgeon.

“Shepherd called me,” he explained, “The other Shepherd, I mean. She said she had a patient she needed help with.”

“Why didn’t she ask me for help?” Derek pondered aloud, feeling a bit offended.

Tom shrugged. “So where is my star pupil?” Owen and Derek looked at each other, wondering how to break the untimely news to the new person in the room.