#if I had a girl like Celeste I’d kiss her feet too

[blandices]

Elijah Mikaelson is canonically into spanking?

[To Celeste]

“Perhaps a spanking of some kind is in order. I think I shall need some rehearsal. Come.”

[sxnnimoon]

Little One pt.2

I am telling you guys right there is to be a LOTTTT more smut within this series. This is only the beginning. Hope you all enjoy part 2 as much as part 1 !

Paring- OT7 x Reader (poly)

Summary- Through your husbands line of work they take a week or more off to spend some time with their wife.

—————————————————————

Arriving at Celeste you were in awe at how many people were always here. Not wanting to brag but your club was by far the best at bringing in not only money but also people. You knew what people wanted. The feeling of letting go with a hint of sexual tension and endless booze. You all went up to your usual spot. Right in the middle up top so you had a view of the whole place.

“Y/N,” said your favorite waitress Cleo.

“Lo! So good to see you.” You said hugging her. “How’s everything?”

“Everything is actually amazing. Tonight has been nothing but smooth.” She smiled.

“I meant with you silly.” You nudge her arm. “How’s baby girl?”

“Of course!” she giggled. “She’s amazing, finally almost ready for school. I may just cry.”

“Well don’t, you may make me cry.” You smiled, rubbing her arm.

“The usual I presume?” She asked.

“Boys?” You looked at your husbands.

A round of yes’ and sures were heard.

You laughed.

“Yes and get something for yourself as well!” You pointed after her.

She nodded.

“You are just too nice.” Namjoon said, pulling you into his lap.

“She’s an amazing worker and mother.” You smiled. “I think I’ll keep her around.”

He nodded.

Once the drinks were brought you downed a few shots to start.

“You better behave tonight.” Yoongi said.

“Whatever do you mean?” You smirked at him grabbing another shot.

“You know exactly what he means.” Taehyung said from beside him.

You giggle at the memory of you fighting off some drunk guys who started a fight with Chi. You were buzzed but boy did you impress your boys, not a scratch left on you. That was a night to remember.

“I’m gonna go dance.” You said practically bouncing in Joon’s lap at the beat of the music. “Anyone wanna join me?”

“I’ll meet you in a few minutes.” Kookie said.

You smiled, shaking your ass as you headed for the dance floor. You found your girls at the edge of the dance floor talking with Cleo.

“Ladies.” You said hugging Chi from behind.

“Someone’s on one.” Said Skye laughing.

“I’ve had a few shots. I feel amazing.” You smiled, running your hands down your body.

They all giggled.

You removed your blazer leaving you in your dress as you didn’t wanna get warm.

“Shall we?” You said pulling them to the floor.

They all yelled in excitement.

Fever by ENHYPEN started playing and you all were grinding on each other. You were in your element. From above your boys watched you. They were in awe of you.

“You gotta see her. She looks hot.” Hobi said.

“That dress.” Jimin said. “I had no idea it was backless.” He bit his lip.

“She’s playing with fire tonight.” Yoongi said.

“This is gonna be a LONGGGGG week for her.” Tae said, smirking.

“Look at her grinding on them.” Joon said. “She knows what she does to us.”

“I’m going down.” Kook said.

They all nodded, eyes still on you.

Letting the music take you, you felt a pair of familiar hands on your body.

“Nice of you to join me.” You smirked, grinding into him.

“You looked too good, I had too.” He held your hips in place.

You hummed, throwing your head back into him.

“Beside,” he began “the show you put on with Chi and Skye, you were killing us.”

“You enjoyed it?” You turned to face him.

“Baby I am so close to taking you right now.” He said. “So what do you think?”

You turned back around grinding hard into him.

His grip on you tightened.

“Don’t start this little one if you know what’s good for you.” He growled into your ear.

“But I like it, baby.” You pouted. “Don’t you?”

You stepped away from him, hands running on your body as you moved your body to the beat of the song.

“Let’s get a drink kitty,” Chi said, pulling you from Kookie.

“Bye baby.” You smiled leaving him on the dance floor.

He shook his head before making his way back upstairs.

“She will be the death of me.” He said plopping down next to V.

“She’s trouble that one.” Yoongi said, sipping his drink.

“Girl you are so gonna get it when you get home.” Chi said.

“Ugh you are so lucky.” Skye said.

“All that dick and they're good looking? I’d be prancing around like that too.” Chi said.

You giggled.

“They treat me like royalty, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You smiled while sipping your drink. “Besides, they liked the show we put on for them.” You smirked.

“Oh really now?” Chi said.

“Maybe we should take it up a notch.” Skye said.

You knew exactly what they meant.

“Let me find the perfect song.” You smirked walking away.

Sacrifice by Black Atlass ft. Jessie Reyes began playing. You knew what this song did to them, especially if it involved you.

Taking your girls to the middle. You all started off solo before moving in together. Chi in the front, you in the middle and Skye behind you. The boys were watching you like hawks. They knew you had your way with women but boy did it rile them up seeing you like this in the middle of them. Both of them kissing on you as you grabbed Chi's ass pulling her closer. This was nothing new between you three. You had your few share of moments between each other but it never meant anything and never ruined your friendship over it. You knew what you were doing and you were pleased to look up and see them all staring, you blew them a kiss before going back to dancing as the song was coming to an end. Making your way back up top, all eyes were on you.

“You,” V began. “Will be the death of me.”

“Did you enjoy the show, my love?” You bit your bottom lip.

“I should take you here right now,” Hoseok growled. “Let everyone know what a naughty slut you’ve been.” He bit your neck. Earning a moan.

“Shall we head home then?” You put a finger under his chin.

“Let’s go.” Yoongi said, pulling you away.

Walking through the club to leave the girls spotted you being rushed away. They giggled. They knew what kinda night was underway for you.

“Don’t break her!!” Skye yelled.

“We have a retreat after your vacation. She’s gotta be there.” Chi added.

You laughed at them waving bye.

Getting into the limo you were placed on Jimin’s lap.

“You were naughty tonight.” He whispered in your ear making you squirm.

“Do you know the things we wanna do to you?” Hoseok said into your other ear.

“I wasn’t that bad daddy.” You moaned out as Jimin began doing circles on your nipple. Hoseok pulled your dress up, exposing you. The cool air hitting you made you moan.

“No bra or panties?” Yoongi said. “It’s like you wanted a punishment.”

“But look at how wet I am for you daddy.” You whined out at them.

They groaned, they loved you in this state. All turned on and willing to do anything for them.

“Touch me baby.” You whined at Jimin who was running his finger on your thigh getting very close to your heat.

“Not here princess, we’re almost home.” He whispered.

You let out a whine.

“Keep it up little one or you won’t be getting any dick tonight.” Jin said sternly.

You instantly shut up.

“That’s a good girl.” Namjoon said.

Once home they all hurried inside, Jimin holding your waist kissing on your neck as you walked in the house.

Once inside he pushed you into the door leaving a trail of wet kisses on you.

“Tonight Jimin and Hobi have their way with you.” Jin said. Earning a whine from Jungkook.

“It’s okay Kookie, you can have a taste tomorrow.” You said biting your lip.

“You’re in for princess.” Hoseok said, putting you over his shoulder.

He entered the play room (Red Room if you will) placing you on your feet.

“That was fun.” You giggled.

“It’ll be more fun once these clothes are gone.” Jimin said.

“Strip baby.” Hobi ordered.

You pulled the straps down your arms before letting the dress slip to your feet leaving you in your heels. They both looked at you in awe. The curviness of your body drives them crazy. You bent down to undo your heels when they stopped you.

“Leave them princess.” Hoseok said.

You stood back up.

“Aren’t you both a little too dressed.” You crossed your arms.

They began undressing, your eyes practically ready to fall out at the sight of them. You were ready for them.

They saw you staring, Jimin beckoned you with his finger to come to them. You instantly got on all fours and crawled. Once in front of them you were eye level with their cocks. You reached out for them only to be swatted away.

“Bed. Now.” Hoseok ordered.

You got onto bed waiting on your back. The quietness of the room only made you more anxious. You were about to speak when you felt a mouth on you, making you cry out. You grabbed onto what you could that thing being Jimin’s head. The things he was doing to you were incredible.

“Jimin.” You moaned out. “More..please.”

“You want more baby?” He said in between licks.

He soon entered a finger making you moan loud. You felt the bed dip, looking over you were met you Hobi’s dick.

“Open little one.” He said.

You opened eager to taste him. He entered with ease , starting off with a slow pace before ducking your throat. You were in heaven.

“I’m gonna add a second, okay baby?” He asked.

You moaned out against Hoseok's dick as a second finger entered you. The vibrations from you caused Hobi to groan, almost bottoming out.

“I-I’m close.” you moaned.

“No you’re not.” Jimin said, removing his fingers.

You whined at the loss of contact.

“Don’t be a brat Y/n.” Hoseok growled. “Ass up.”

You got up quick.

“That's a good girl.” Jimin said coming up behind you.

He began running his tip against your opening.

“I-I need you..now.” you moaned out. “Stop teasing.”

“Why should I?” He began. “You’ve done nothing but tease us all night.”

“But you enjoyed it.” You giggled.

Jimin slapped you on the ass. You moaned loud.

He entered you slowly, letting you adjust to his size. The amount of times you have had them all in you and yet you still couldn’t handle it.

You cried out gripping the sheets as he entered you fully.

“Move baby.” You said.

He began slow, building up a steady pace. You were a morning mess.

“You like when hyung fills you up?” Hoseok said watching Jimin fuck you.

You cried out.

“Answer him.” Jimin said earning a slap to your ass.

“Yes Hobi,” you moaned out.

“What was that?” He said getting close to you.

“Yes daddy.” You mewled out.

“Good girl, look at you taking his cock.” He cooed.

“I’m gonna cum.” Jimin moaned.

“Cum baby.” You yelled out. “Give it to me.”

A few more strokes and he bottomed out. You collapsed, laying on your stomach for a few seconds before Hoseok flipped you over.

“Get ready baby.” He smirked.

Sex with Hoseok was something else, he was always tying you up and doing everything in his power to please you.

“We’re not going all out tonight.” He said entering you. “ I’m not going to last very long.”

You cried out as he began a brutal pace. He knew exactly what to do to get you to cum. You could feel the knot beginning to form in you, you were close.

“I’m close Hoseok.” You moaned.

“Me too baby,” he said almost out of breath. “Just hold out for a bit, ok?”

You nodded trying your hardest, you ended up clenching around him making him lose focus.

“Cum for me princess,” he said.

You cried out as you released on him. He came soon after. You were out of breath, you couldn’t wait for what the next few days brought you. They took notice of your state and knew you were to pass out soon,

“Let’s clean up baby and then you can head to bed.” Jimin said already working to clean you up.

After cleaning up they placed you in your bed, both getting in on either side of you. Both wrapped their arms around you making you feel safe, you soon began to drift off to sleep.

[ibuki-loves-you]

Trigger Happy Havoc Girls with an S/O who is like Mikan

Warnings: Mikan's personality/actions

Mod Ibuki: Hey hey hey!! Sorry for the long wait on this :/ I hope it was worth it, though!

Kyoko:

Kyoko was immediately worried for your safety

She had a lot of questions

Why were you so shy? Had you been through something?

She kept those questions to herself though

If someone ever made fun of you, she’d glare

Literally just walk up to you, wrap on arm around your waist and the other on your arm

And glare

If you ever took a fall in front of her she’d carefully lean down and help you up, suggestive or not

Although she might blush a bit if it was a suggestive position

“There, you’re alright. It was just a small trip, thankfully.”

If you ever offered to take your clothes off for her, she would be appalled

“Love, I don’t want you to take your clothes off because I’m not in a particularly good mood. Bad moods are normal, that doesn’t mean you take your clothes off every time it happens. Don’t offer that to me unless you personally want to do it.”

Kyoko is not someone you can look at and feel as if she’s mad at you, because she makes it clear if she is

But if you did think she was, she’d be pretty upset

“No, love. I’m not mad. You did absolutely nothing wrong. Nothing at all. I honestly don’t think I can be mad at you. You just seem to make everything better.”

Kyoko’s heart skips a beat whenever you’re around <3

Hina:

Hina LOVED YOU

The minute you two met she did not let you out of her sight for long periods of time

She was just worried someone would hurt you or take advantage of you

If someone ever made fun of you, she’d be so mad

No one wants to deal with mad swimmy baby

“That is so rude, you know!? That was completely uncalled for! There was absolutely no reason to say that! Now apologize!”

If you ever took a fall in front of her, she would honestly fall too just to make you feel less embarrassed

She’d cover you if need be, though

Either with clothing or with herself when she “falls”

If you ever offered to take your clothes off for her, she’d be in shock

Mainly because you offered it to her because you thought she was upset

“What!? Please, S/O, no! Don’t say that! Taking your clothes off won’t make me feel better, cuddles will! Get over here! Because of that statement, I demand you let me cuddle you!”

If you ever thought Hina was mad, which is rare, she’d he so upset

“Baby! No! Not at all! I could never be mad at you! I swear! Your face is just too adorable to be mad at!”

Swimmer baby just wants your happiness above all

Celestia:

Celeste would never admit it if anyone asked

But she loved you the minute she laid eyes on you

Your personality only made her want to be with you more

Not many people dared to bother you, but if an unlucky soul did try to do such a thing…

Celeste would give them a run for their money

“Are you fucking kidding me!? How dare you!? Why don’t you crawl back into whatever ditch you crawled out of and leave my significant other alone! Do I make myself clear!?” She’d turn to you and give you a soft smile. “Come on, dear. Let’s go get some tea to cheer you up, yes?”

If you fell in front of her, she wouldn’t be able to catch you without falling herself, but she’d immediately take your hands and help you up

“Come now, darling. Don’t cry, it was an accident. Everything is alright.”

If you ever offered to take your clothes off for her, it would take a second to click

But once it did her reaction was similar to Kyoko’s

“Darling, I don’t wish for you to take off your clothes merely because Yamada put me in a foul mood. I would much rather you keep said clothes on and have a cup of tea with me, maybe some conversation as well. Please don’t offer yourself to me out of pity.”

If you ever thought she was made at you, she honestly thought she was gonna cry

“W-What? Dear, no. Not one bit. Not one ounce of me is angered by you. I love you far too much to be mad at you. Now, come here and let me hug you.”

Celeste truly does care about you, more than she has cared for anyone before <3

Sakura:

Protective

That’s it

Sakura wants your safety above all, because she knows how shy people can be taken advantage of easily

If anyone dared to make fun of you, oh boy

Sakura is fucking terrifying

“I suggest you run before I snap you in half.”

That’s all it takes to send them on their way

If you fell in front of her, she would definitely be able to catch you

And she would!

But if you did manage to miss her arms, she’d pick you right back up and hold you

“See? I got you. Everything is okay.”

If you offered to take your clothes off for her, she’d be calmer, but nonetheless upset

“Hey, don’t do that. I don’t want you because of your body. I want you because of your personality. That’s what I fell in love with. Don’t offer yourself to me, or anyone else. Ever. It’s your body, you can most certainly choose what to do with it.”

If you thought she was angry with you, she’d be so quick to tell you otherwise

“No, not at all. I am not mad in the slightest. Even if I was, I’d never take my anger out on you. That’s wrong, and I love you too much to even think about doing that.”

With Sakura as your girlfriend, you will always be protected. And that’s a promise

Mukuro:

Mukuro is shy, but definitely not as shy as you

Like Sakura, she wanted your safety above all

Let it be from others or her cruel sister

If someone ever made fun of you, she’d be pretty angry

Hell, she may put those skills of hers to good use

“Hey. Don’t let me hear you say something like that again. Ever. That’s just plain disgusting.”

If you ever took a fall in front of her, her reflexes are extremely fast, so she’d try her absolute best to catch you

More often she does, but on the off chance she’s unsuccessful, she’d apologize with a bright blush

“I-I’m sorry, love. I tried to catch you, uh, I’m sorry. Here, grab my hands.”

If you offered to take your clothes off for her, she’d immediately say no

“S-S/O! No! No, I-I don’t want you to do that! I-I’m not in a bad mood, and even if I was I wouldn’t want you to take your clothes off just to try to improve my mood! Please don’t offer that to me, that’s practically violating you! And I don’t want to do that!”

If you ever thought she was mad at you, poor girl might cry

“L-Love, I’m not mad at all. I-I promise. Even if I was mad, I don’t think it could be caused by you in all honesty. I love you, okay?”

Soldier baby’s heart go brrr

Sayaka:

Shy or not, Sayaka’s a cute blushy mess around you

She still teases you in a friendly manner, but always makes sure you know she’s only playing

If anyone over bothered you, she’d be incredibly salty

Like, pettiness and all

“Oh, so that’s how you’re gonna be? Well, I’ll have you know that my significant other is NOT gonna do that. You’re a rude person and I hope karma hits you hard.”

If you took a fall in front of her, she’d screech so sound and try to catch you, but would most likely fail

When she saw that you were embarrassed, like Hina she would trip to make you feel better

“See, S/O? It’s fine! Now we both tripped, hehe! Isn’t that funny!”

If you ever offered to take your clothes off for her, she’d hug you immediately and try to make you happy

“Nope! I don’t want that, okay? I want to kiss your cute face! Not rub up on you because you want to make me happy! Now c’mere, so I can kiss your cute face!”

If you ever thought she was mad at you, though, she’d be really sad

“What? No, I’m not mad at all! Let alone at you! I promise, S/O. Even if I was mad, I’d have a peaceful conversation. Not a screaming match about it! Now, give me a hug!”

Sayaka will hug you as much as you please, as long as it makes you happy <3

Toko:

Toko thought you were annoying at first

But then she realized how similar you two were

Not long after, she fell in love with you

Just like in those cheesy novels she writes

If someone ever bothered you, she’d get pretty mad

Lowkey considers letting Syo out

“H-Hey, asshole! T-That’s a r-real d-dick t-thing to say! S-So w-why d-don’t you just g-go back to w-whatever ditch y-you crawled o-out of a-and d-die!”

If Syo was around when someone bothered you, well I think we know how that'll go

They aren't around anymore, especially if they were a pretty boy

If you ever fell in front of her, she’d lowkey get second-hand embarrassment, but would help you up anyways

“Hey, l-look, you’re fine. N-Not a scrape or anything. Y-You’re okay.”

Syo would leap into action immediately and pull you to your feet

"See!? It's like you never even fell! You're okay! No tears, I hate seeing you cry!"

If you ever offered to take your clothes off for her, she’d freak the fuck out

“W-What!? N-No! D-Don’t do t-that! K-Keep your clothes o-on! I-I’m n-not mad! E-Even if I w-was, I w-wouldn’t w-want you to s-strip! Y-You’re t-too p-pretty for t-that!”

If Syo was around, she would as well

"What!? Oh no no no, this just won't do! You're body is far to marvelous to be shown so willingly, y'know that? Don't let others see it so easy! Even if it is just me! Doesn't matter!"

If you thought she was mad at you, she’d scoff at first, but then realize you were being serious

“What? I’m not m-mad at you. W-Why would I b-be mad at y-you? I-I have no reason to b-be. D-Don’t say that, I-I’d tell you if I-I was mad at you...S-Speaking as if I-I c-could g-get mad at y-you.”

Syo would latch onto you and hug you, giving you a little spin

"No, dollface! I'm not angry at all! See? I'm happy! So happy! Especially because my baby-cakes is here! Now, c'mon! Gimme a smooch!"

Even though she’d deny it at first, Toko really does love you

[fruitcoops]

I was wondering if I could request something? Maybe Sirius' first night at the Dumais' place and Dumo can straight away tell that somethings wrong. Sirius makes polite conversation and it all looks so painful until he retires for the night and Dumo passes by his room and he hears Sirius crying maybe? Because of what his mother said, and maybe because he has trouble adjusting to new situations? Just an idea that popped into my head :) Only if you want to write it <3 Thank you

Yes, I can! I love writing Dumo, but for some reason I don't do it that often--his and Sirius' dynamic is just so wholesome and wonderful. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for implied child abuse and broken glass (no injury)

The first thing Pascal Dumais noticed about Sirius Black was how quiet he was. At only eighteen years old, Sirius was taller than most of the other Lions, with broad shoulders and gangly limbs. Yet he moved almost silently, padding along the wood floors in his socks and speaking only when spoken to. It was…honestly, a bit unsettling.

Dumo had expected a rambunctious teenage boy, still high on the thrill of being drafted to the NHL—instead, he found himself the guardian-slash-landlord of a ghost. Sirius unloaded his meager belongings with little fuss and accepted no help, his pale eyes never lingering on either of them for too long.

Celeste poked her head into the living room in the early afternoon when they returned from the grocery store; Sirius was sitting ramrod straight in the smallest chair they had with a thick book in his hands. She knocked gently on the doorframe, and he jumped. “Sirius, would you like some lunch?”

“I don’t want to be any trouble,” he said in that unusually soft voice.

“It’s no trouble,” she assured him.

“I can make myself a sandwich if you have other things to do. Really, I’m alright.”

“When was the last time you ate?”

Sirius blinked, as if he hadn’t expected her to ask, then glanced at the clock on the wall. “I had breakfast at seven and a granola bar on the plane.”

“Sirius, it’s almost two.”

“Is it?”

“Come with me for a moment, oui?” She ushered him into the kitchen; Dumo wasn’t sure he would ever get used to seeing someone so physically imposing walk so small.

“Papa?” Someone tugged on the hem of his shirt and he snapped out of his daze, leaning down to lift Adele into his arms with a smile.

“Bonjour, mon chou! Did you have fun outside?” She nodded, wiggling a little in her excitement, and put her hands on either side of his face. Dumo’s stomach sank. “Why are your hands wet?”

“I washed them!”

“Why?”

“Because we played with chalk!”

Both the boys were at day camp, and Katie was down for her afternoon nap. Dumo wracked his brain. “Who were you playing with?”

“Sirius!” she giggled, then held the front of her shirt out. Wasn’t she wearing a different one this morning?“An’ he said chalk stains, so he lifted me up so I could wash my hands and helped me get my new shirt on when it got stuck and let me braid his hair! Can we keep him? Please, Papa, I wanna keep him forever!”

Dumo kissed her forehead as a wave of emotion tickled the back of his throat. Less than six hours in their home, and Sirius was already connecting with his children. “Oui, we can. Did you say thank you?”

Adele bit her lower lip. “I don’t remember.”

“Sirius?” Dumo called. The clanking in the kitchen stopped. “Can you come here for a moment?”

There was a beat of silence before he appeared in the doorway, looking paler than before as he walked over to them. This boy needs to eat more, the parental part of Dumo’s brain thought instantly. Slate-grey eyes flickered between them. “She—she had chalk on her shirt. I’m sorry, I should have asked.”

“It’s alright. What do you say?” Dumo asked, turning to Adele.

She turned a beaming smile on Sirius. “Thank you!”

His whole face softened in the blink of an eye and he smiled back, giving her a light fist bump. “Pas de problem, petit papillon.”

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

Sirius opened up a bit over lunch; Adele perched herself right in his lap with her peanut butter sandwich to his clear astonishment, but his smiles came easier after that and Dumo treasured each one. He was already grateful that Sirius did not seem like the type of asshole player that Dumo remembered from his high school years.

Marc and Louis returned to the house just as they finished, and though Sirius offered to help wash the dishes—the boy was a blessing, really—they shooed him off to play with the kids for a while. It would do them all some good to get out in the sun.

“Quiet, isn’t he?” Celeste remarked as they stood side-by-side at the sink. Her tone was casual, but Dumo saw the worry in her eyes.

He hummed in agreement. “He’s probably just nervous, mon amour. They can take a while to warm up.”

“Pascal, I don’t think—”

The sound of shattering glass echoed from the other room. The house held its breath. “Is everyone alright?” Dumo called, drying his hands on the nearest towel as his pulse picked up. “What happened?”

Hushed whispers floated out, followed by the pitter-patter of little feet. He hurried down the hall with Celeste hot on his heels. “I’m so sorry,” Sirius said as they entered the room. He was kneeling on the wood floor, gathering fragments of a small water glass in one palm. “It was my fault. I hit it with my elbow.”

Celeste frowned. “Boys? Adele? I know you were here.”

Dumo didn’t miss Sirius’ hard swallow, nor the sudden nervousness—no, that was fear—on his face as the three kids crept out from around the corner, looking guiltier than anything. Adele stepped forward, but Sirius stood in a smooth, instinctive motion, keeping her behind him. “It was my fault,” he repeated. Dumo’s heart sank.

“Adele, is that true?”

She looked up toward Sirius, who kept his broad hand ever so slightly in front of her shoulder. Celeste raised an eyebrow. “Adele Marie, tell the truth.”

“No,” she said.

“Come here, please.” Dumo watched Sirius’ breaths go shallow as Celeste beckoned to Adele, but confusion took its place when she crouched to her level. “Thank you. What Sirius did was very nice, but we don’t let other people take the fall for our mistakes in this house, Adele. We accept responsibility. Who broke the cup?”

“I was chasing Marc and we both bumped into the table,” Adele confessed, toying with the hem of her butterfly-patterned shirt. “It was an accident, I promise.”

“Did anyone get hit by the glass?” Dumo asked. All three shook their heads. “Sirius?”

He cleared his throat. “No, Mr. Dumais.”

“Marc, Adele, I want you to find the broom and dustpan so your mother and I can clean this up. Thank you for being honest. Sirius, there’s a trash can in the kitchen, but be careful of the sharp edges. And please, call me Pascal or Dumo.”

But he didn’t stop thinking about the visible alarm on Sirius’ face when Celeste brought Adele forward all afternoon. Something was not right.

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

If it wasn’t for the baby, Dumo would not have heard it.

Katie woke around midnight with a quiet whine, which devolved into whimpering, and finally into full-out sobbing for over half an hour. He carried her downstairs so she wouldn’t wake the others and gently rocked her, humming lullabies under his breath until his throat was dry and her tears abated. “There’s my good girl,” he murmured, drying her pudgy cheeks with his sleeve.

The last bits of sleep faded away as he set her down in her crib again, and he sighed. The season didn’t start for more than a month, but he had been looking forward to a few consecutive nights of solid rest before then.

May as well check on the others, he thought, wandering down the hallway in his thickest socks and bathrobe to stave off the nighttime chill. Marc and Louis were each out cold; he took the open book splayed across Marc’s bed and set it on his dresser, turning the lamp off as he left. Adele was curled into a tight ball around no less than four of her precious stuffed animals and he tucked the blankets back over her shoulder.

Dumo’s feet carried him down the stairs before his brain fully caught up, and he paused—Sirius had been in their house for a single day, and already he had the urge to look out for him. The thought should have made him feel silly, but instead he felt…peaceful. He felt right. There was a lost and near-silent boy in his home, who protected his kids within hours of knowing them. Of course Dumo was going to make sure he was alright.

Summer wind rushed past the wide windows as he headed toward the basement. It was warmer there, and he took a moment to mentally pat himself on the back for remodeling two years prior. Hopefully, Sirius would be comfortable.

A soft sound broke through his thoughts. Dumo stopped on the last step.

There was a harsh breath, then a sniffle, as if the person inside was trying and failing to keep their tears in past the point of no return. He heard a few shaky, weak inhales, then a choked noise that cut off abruptly with a gulp.

Dumo closed his eyes to hold back tears of his own and knocked lightly on the bedroom door.

Everything went silent with a rustle.

“Sirius?” he whispered, raising his voice just enough to be heard through the door. “Are you awake?”

There was no answer.

“Can I come in?” he ventured.

An unsteady voice answered. “Ouais.”

The door creaked a little as he opened it and stepped into the dark room. Sirius was nothing more than a clump of shadows on the far side of the bed, squished tight against the wall with all his blankets wrapped around him. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Je vais bien.”

“Can I sit?” Dumo fully expected Sirius to tell him ‘no’, to make an excuse, to pull some arrogant teenager nonsense.

Instead, he tucked his legs up and made room near the foot of the bed with another sniffle. “Did I wake you?”

“Non. Katie was crying, and I thought I’d check on everyone.” He settled down and scooted until his back was against the wall as well—Sirius was still hiding in a cocoon of his duvet, but his hand came up to wipe his face. “Do you want to talk?”

“About what?”

“You seem upset. I know the homesickness is hard for the first few days, but—”

“No.” The vehemence of Sirius’ answer shocked him into silence. “No. I’m not homesick. I just—so much has happened, and I—it’s—this is everything I wanted, right here, and—”

He broke off with a wounded noise that broke Dumo’s poor heart right down the middle. He moved closer until their shoulders touched; to his surprise, Sirius leaned on him and shivered. “How can I help you?” Dumo asked quietly.

“Your family…” Sirius shook his head and drew the covers tighter. “You have a beautiful family. You should be proud of them.”

“I am, every day.”

“Your kids love you so much.” It was barely more than a whisper.

Dumo sighed through his nose. “I know.”

“No, you don’t, they—you’re their hero. And not because of hockey.”

That was Dumo’s dream, laid out right in front of him. If someone he hardly knew could see that, then it must be true. The impact was greater than he ever could have imagined; his lungs felt tight. “Thank you. Is it alright if I ask you something?”

Sirius stiffened slightly.

“You’re not in trouble, and you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I’m just…worried.”

He felt Sirius shift. “This is about the glass.” It wasn’t a question.

“Oui.” Dumo searched for the words and scrounged up any sliver of tact he could find. “Sirius, do you—what happens when you break a glass at your house?”

Sirius’ breath rushed from his lungs in a near-silent sob. Dumo gathered him close in his arms and held him, letting tears dampen his shoulder as he murmured soft reassurances in French. “I’m sorry,” Sirius croaked, though he did not move away. “I’m sorry for—for intruding, and for ruining your shirt—”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Dumo gave him a light squeeze of comfort and felt him go a bit boneless. “And you are not intruding. We love having you here with us.”

“Really?”

He sounded so unsure. So young. Dumo wished he could take away whatever horrible things had been said to ever make someone so kind feel so small. “Yes. Adele, especially.”

“She’s so…colorful.” Fondness dripped from every word.

“She is,” Dumo agreed. “She came running up to me, and went ‘papa, papa, can we keep him?’”

Sirius laughed a little at his imitation and straightened up, drying his eyes on his hoodie sleeve. They sat quietly for a while until the shaking stopped and his death grip on the comforter loosened. “Thank you, Mr. Dumais.”

“Call me Pascal, or Dumo if you like. ‘Mr. Dumais’ makes me sound like a grandfather.” They laughed together, then fell silent once more. “And you’re welcome. Any time you need help, you can come to me. I might not be your father, but—”

“You’re better,” Sirius interrupted, wiping his nose. His shadow turned to face Dumo in the dark, and though he couldn’t see his face, he could picture the earnest expression. “In every way. Please don’t tell anyone about this, though.”

“It never even crossed my mind,” Dumo answered honestly. “I should let you sleep now. We have some busy weeks ahead of us, eh?”

“Bonne nuit, M—Dumo.” The name carried new weight and he let it sink in as Sirius laid back down and kicked his blankets back into place. Something told him this was the beginning of a very interesting story.

“Bonne nuit, Sirius. Welcome to our home.”

[lumosinlove]

Cw: mentions of drugs and mentions of past abuse

Previously On Relic Keel

Remus has started to associate sailing with Sirius Black ever since Sirius told him he watches his boat every morning. He thinks about how tired he is of knowing everything there is to know and wishes to leave the island.

Remus also starts his new job at the Hogwarts History Museum where he meets up with his friend Layla, whose family runs the museum, and whose brother, Lyall, Remus races sailboats against. On his way there, he reflects on the divide between Salazars and Godrics. He remembers Sirius at school, and how he was either celebrated or shunned with seemingly no pattern.

After their first shift at the museum, Layla takes Remus to The Lion for lunch, chastising Remus’ prejudices, and introduces him to Leo. Remus sees Leo’s rainbow bracelet and thinks about how badly he wants a boyfriend. We also learn that Luke is also gay, but that he and Remus have always been just friends.

Logan arrives at The Lion, too, is introduced, and listens in on Remus finding out a new exhibit on madness at the museum—the Lupins are known for going insane, but Remus’ mother mentioned nothing to Remus about this exhibit.

Leo learns that Logan is looking for someone (Finn). Logan reflects on a sleepy feeling that seemed to go away with his escape from the orphanage. Leo offers Logan a job, if he wants, and also tells him about The Voldemort.

The Voldemort is a boat from the eighteenth century that is said to have sank in The Cradle, a U shaped arrangement of islands just off of Hogwarts Southern Coast. Leo’s dad was close to finding it. Leo feels like he should want to find it, too, for his lost father.

Saint and Sirius arrive. Saint and Logan see each other for the first time in almost ten years, since Saint escaped when he was seven. Logan tells him that Finn got him out and Saint finds out that Logan sells Crucio.

Pascal, who owns the Lion with his wife Celeste, is introduced. He’s very close with Saint and Sirius, and he apparently knew Leo’s father before he went missing at sea. Saint learns that Logan is staying with Leo.

James and Remus arrive, looking for Dorcas who Thomas said might be selling Crucio to Luke. They’d like her to stop and are willing to pay. Logan takes advantage of this and, although he doesn’t sell to Luke, cons James out of 200 bucks.

Saint learns that Logan has gotten tangled up with The Carrows, the more dangerous of the two Crucio dealers, the other, safer one being Kasey Winter, in the hopes that they will help him get Finn out. Instead, he’s in their debt for using their Crucio himself.

Logan slips and calls Saint Bash. Saint refuses to help Logan get Finn out.

A/N: I super don’t speak Latin. And neither do my trees.

part v

Dorcas watched as Saint took his book from the floor of the back seat and flipped his sunglasses down.

“How long?” he asked. “And how do I keep getting stuck with this job?”

“Because Sirius is a better surfer than you are,” Dorcas replied. “And you know what, you can take off. Her parents are out of town for the weekend so her dad won’t be coming home or anything.”

Saint paused and raised an eyebrow. “And so I just drove you because…”

“I didn’t feel like walking?”

“Clever gal.”

Dorcas smiled. “I know.”

“Whatever, I need the car anyway.”

“What are you up to? I thought you were working at the Potters.”

“Just Sirius today,” Saint threw his book back into the rear seats. “I’ve got some detective work ahead of me.”

“Does this have anything to do with that little friend of yours that Sirius told me about?”

Saint rolled his eyes. “Of course he told you.”

“You know you two can’t keep secrets from me.”

“Don’t I.”

“See you later, babe,” Dorcas opened her door.

Saint gave her a salut as she headed around towards the dug-out fence.

Marlene had her paints out and her hair up in a bun when she pushed the window up and open for Dorcas.

“Luke’s here,” she said, and rolled her eyes as she turned away.

Dorcas froze in the window frame to see Luke with his feet crossed, laying on Marlene’s bed.

“Okay,” Dorcas said. “Can he leave?”

“Hey,” Luke said. “Cousin privileges.”

“Girlfriend privileges,” Dorcas said, shutting the window behind her. “Plus, can’t you go, like, toss a ball at a net with a stick or something?”

Luke rolled his eyes—not unlike his cousin. “I’m on a rest day. Plus, I’m off the team.”

“And whose fault is that?” Dorcas raised an eyebrow.

“He’s just getting out of the house for a bit,” Marlene said with a pointed look that Dorcas understood as he’s getting away from his mother. 

“Plus,” Marlene continued. “He’s a good cover story.”

“I thought your dad wasn’t here.”

Marlene shook her head. “Came home early. Guess his newest gal pal didn’t like golf. He’s over at the club now.”

“What’s his deal, anyway?” Luke asked. He had reached over to the bedside table and put a bowl of what looked like mango slices onto his stomach. “With you two, I mean.”

“I am his little princess,” Marlene said dryly. “Not to be dated.”

“And a Salazar girl who lives in The Hollow?” Dorcas shook her head. “No deal.”

“Right,” Luke said. “Like that’s never happened before.”

Dorcas snorted and sat on the bed, too, stealing a few pieces of fruit. “Like you’re any better than the rest of them, Deveaux.”

“I am,” Luke said. “I don’t hate Salazars.”

“But you hate Hollows.”

Luke grinned. “I don’t hate them, either. They hate me, and what am I gonna do about their jealousy? That’s their issue.”

“God, you’re an asshole,” Dorcas sighed.

“He’s really not though,” Marlene stepped back as she regarded the painting she was working on. Luke’s face looked back out at them from the canvas. “He just likes to make-believe.”

“Could have fooled me and my friends.”

“He’s a great actor,” Marlene agreed, then stuck her tongue out at Luke. “I just happen to have known him before he learned how.”

“All right, fuck you both,” Luke grumbled, and ate another piece of mango.

“Believe me,” Dorcas said. “We’re not jealous of you.”

Luke raised an eyebrow. “You can’t tell me you wish you didn’t have to sell Felix to make a little more money?”

Dorcas narrowed her eyes. “Like you and your money live such a great life.”

Luke looked away, jaw tight.

“Yeah,” Dorcas said. “I’d take Crucio and the friends I have over that any day.” After a moment of hesitation, she looked down and mumbled. “And by the looks of your little habit, so would you.”

“Fuck you, Meadowes,” Luke snarled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“All right, all right,” Marlene said, tilting her head as she added color to Luke’s cheeks in her painting. “Cool it, kids. Take a chill pill. Knock it down a notch. Luke, why don’t you go get us some pizza or something? Or maybe pick up from Thomas’. I crave his nachos, holy cow. Also, tell him to come hang out later tonight, if he can.”

Luke held Dorcas’ eyes for a moment, then pushed himself up from the bed. “Pepperoni, you?”

“Pineapple and ham, thanks,” Marlene said, and smiled at Dorcas as she patted his back out the door.

“Hi,” Marlene laughed once the door closed behind him. She walked into Dorcas’ arms. She took Dorcas’ face between her hands and peppered kisses to her mouth. “How are you?”

“Worried about basically all of our friends,” Dorcas laughed. “And that one, I guess, too.”

“Tell me about it,” Marlene sighed, laying down on the bed and eating a slice of mango. Dorcas mirrored her position. “No, seriously, if you want to talk about it, I’m all ears. I mean, I’ve got Luke who, one, needs to get out of his house, and two, needs someone to love, like, God, I wish he had a boyfriend. I just want him to get off this island, go to college, and meet the sweetest human in the world, you know?” Marlene sighed again, eyes far away. “He doesn’t act like he deserves that, but…it’s really his family he didn’t deserve. He’s all torn up about his dad, but his dad’s…a schemer. You know? And his mom, don’t even get me started.”

“Maybe he can still meet someone here,” Dorcas replied, and reached out to brush Marlene’s hair away from her face with a smile. “You never know. We didn’t. How long did we spend on this island without knowing each other existed?”

Marlene’s smile faltered in a way that Dorcas was beginning to recognize. It worried her.

“What?” Dorcas asked softly.

Marlene tilted her head. “Hm?”

“You keep doing that,” Dorcas said, tracing a thumb over one corner of Marlene’s mouth. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Marlene said. “I was just thinking about Luke. I mean, my parents sucks but at least they’re…”

Dorcas raised an eyebrow. “Not in jail?”

“Yeah, I don’t know where I was going with that,” Marlene laughed. She scooted closer, letting Dorcas hitch her thigh over her hip, Dorcas’ thumb rubbing idly over her soft skin. “Now what are you worrying about, lover?”

“Sirius,” Dorcas began. “I don’t know he just…he’s never seemed…happy? Saint. He’s trying so hard to be happy that I know he’s not. And now there’s Logan which I think stirred up a lot of Saint Clair stuff for him. I mean, Jesus, how do we not know what’s up with that place?”

“Gods are good at not paying attention,” Marlene said solemnly.

“Saint never takes that damn cross off,” Dorcas said. “I mean, wouldn’t you want to let it go?”

“Sorry, who’s Logan? He got out? As in escaped? Like Saint did?”

Dorcas nodded. “I haven’t talked to Saint about it yet. Me and Sirius are gonna tag-team later, make him let it out.”

Marlene looked suspicious. “Good luck.”

“We have our ways,” Dorcas laughed. “And Logan…He deals. I know him a little. Not really.”

Marlene nodded, going quiet at the mention of Crucio as she always did.

“I like what it gives me,” Dorcas said gently. “Freedom, Marls. More than any other job here could. At least any job that I could get. And its from Kasey, who makes it safely. Unlike the Carrows. So—”

“You don’t have to explain,” Marlene said, and pushed herself closer. “I know. Really, I know. I’m proud of you. I just wish there wasn’t as much risk.”

“Like the police do anything about it,” Dorcas sighed, running a hand through Marlene’s hair. “They probably like the revenue it brings for the island.”

“Yeah,” Marlene sighed.

“Well,” Dorcas said. “We probably have at least twenty minutes before Deveaux returns with the pizza…”

Marlene smiled and pushed Dorcas’ hat off, leaning over her on the bed. “Oh? Twenty minutes you say?”

~

Saint parked the Jeep between two trees in an overgrow section of a Salazar road.  He knew where The Carrows lived. It was difficult to miss their house. Saint could practically smell the gold and diamonds. He felt like he smell the Crucio, too, the rubber bands and the plastic bags, and the sickly sweet powder.

There was no one outside. The whole grandiosity looked strangely deserted.

Saint reached into the rear again for the latest book he had borrowed from James. Frankenstein. Not one he hadn’t read before, but a good one none the less.

“Don’t know why you want that one,” James had said when he handed it over. They had both been hot from working in the sun—Saint on the lawn, James on his backhand. “I had to write a book report on that in, like, what, ninth grade? Oof.”

“Beluis amicitiam,” Saint had replied.

“How the fuck do you know Latin?” James had said. “You aren’t even at our school.”

“You gave me a book on Latin.”

James nodded. “Right.”

“Well?” Saint had asked. “You’re at school. What’d I say?”

James squinted one eye shut. “Beast…friends?”

Saint had laughed. “Literally, sure.”

Saint opened the book now, rolling the window down in the stuffy car. The AC was broken.

“Monsters like company,” he said aloud into the small space and settled down to wait.

~

Lily didn’t expect to find herself painting an old boat with James Potter on a Saturday afternoon, but painting she was. She dipped the fat brush into the blue paint, trying to wipe her hair out of her face without getting blue in it.

“Still doing okay over there, Lils?”

Lily looked up to see James’ head pop out over the upside-down bow.

“All good,” Lily nodded. “You?”

James smiled. “Yeah. Thanks for helping me out.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Lily said. “Just working on my tan.”

James’ head appeared again, only this time his expression was incredulous. “We both know we both burn.”

Lily laughed. “I guess so.”

The Potter’s had their own, small beach in front of their property, and Lily dug her feet down into the sand, looking at the inviting ocean.

She felt all too awkward after their talk a few nights ago. She had been brash, and almost cruel at some points. James was—good. But she didn’t want to end up like her mother. She didn’t want to stay for someone, like her mother had for her father, and regret it, like she could tell her mother did sometimes.

And if she had wanted someone to come out into the world with her, she couldn’t have picked a worse candidate. James was a Potter, and the Potters were Hogwarts Island’s beating heart. Their money was in every part of this island. Every grain of sand, every brick. Hogwarts Academy, whose headmaster was James’ father.

If Lily loved James, she’d never escape.

And the problem was, she did love James.

“So, I was thinking about doing a movie night or something,” James said from the other side of the boat. “Put a sheet up and a projector. We could lay it all out on the lawn, or by the pool. Get some candy and popcorn and shit, invite everyone.”

Lily cleared her throat. “Yeah, that sounds cool.”

James was at the front now, painting the boat’s nose. “Any suggestions or requests?”

Lily smiled. “Is it too cheesy to do Pirates of The Caribbean?”

James laughed. “Hell no. There’s no better place!”

Lily shrugged. “Then definitely that. Oh, Will Turner.”

James snorted. “Yeah, can’t say no to that.”

Lily smiled at him, and shifted closer to the other side of the bow.

“So, how’s your common-app going?” James asked. “These essays are sort of killing me. I mean, you’re staring out a window. What do you see? What the fuck kind of prompt is that? That’s what’s going to get me into college?”

Lily laughed. “Not to mention asking me why I want to go somewhere. They’re basically forcing me to make something dramatic up.”

“Right. If I’m being, you know, honest, I feel simple, and if I’m embellishing, I feel fake.”

Lily looked up at him. “Exactly. No, that’s—exactly.”

They smiled at each other, paintbrushes poised.

“I don’t know,” James sighed finally. “I’m—I’m sort of worried, Lils.”

“What about Lacrosse?” Lily asked.

James nodded. “That’s what my dad says. And, yeah, I love it, but…sometimes I wonder if it’s more that I love who I’m playing with. Luke, Remus, Thomas.”

Lily nodded, eyes flitting over his face which had gone serious and tense. “Right. No, that makes sense. But J, you’re so smart. And kind.”

James’ smile was small, but his eyes, when he looked at her, were fond. “Not as smart as you. And I can’t get a degree in kindness.”

Lily hummed, thinking. College was a sensitive topic for everyone it seemed. What was supposed to be one of the best parts of their lives was all uncertainty and vagueness. She thought of Marlene, and how she hadn’t told Dorcas about her early-decision acceptance yet. This seemed to be all goodbyes and leave-behinds.

“Sorry,” James cleared his throat. “That was a downer thing to say.”

Lily shook her head. “I’m starting to think college is just a downer thing.”

James smiled, and, even though it was something that had only been gone for a moment, Lily found that she had missed it. James was so bright. “Yeah.”

Lily knew that she was going to say goodbye to James in a year. But for the first time, she wondered how she knew, and when she had decided.

“You’re going to be amazing, Lils,” James said softly. She could tell that they were both thinking of their conversation. He looked down at her with his hazel eyes. “Really, you are.”

Lily meant to say thank you.

Instead, she leaned forward and kissed him. James’ body tensed, and then relaxed. His mouth opened beneath hers and she cupped his cheek, her other palm splayed on his chest. He was warm from the sunlight. He made a soft sound and tilted his head to kiss her again, hand between her shoulders. Then, he pulled back, their foreheads together. There was paint on his chest from Lily’s paintbrush. Blue, right over his heart.

“Lils,” James gasped. He wrapped a gentle hand around her wrist. “Lils, mixed messages, mixed messages…”

He was out of breath. Lily had made him that way. Her own heart was beating out of her chest.

“You’re right,” Lily breathed, and stepped away, drawing a fallen strap of her tank top up her shoulder. “You’re right, God, sorry.”

“No, it’s,” James began. “I mean, that was nice. Really nice.”

Lily sent him a wavering smile over her shoulder. “Yeah. Sorry about—” the paint. Everything.

She watched James out of the corner of her eye as he passed his hand through his hair a few times. This time, he came to stand beside her as they worked quietly.

It only took Lily a few moments to not be able to stand it any more. The feeling of him so close, of wanting him the way she did. He was gentle. He kissed in a way that made her want to melt. He had made her laugh, that night that they spent together, in between those kisses and gentle touches.

“Why did you ask me to do this with you, James?” Lily said. “I mean—aren’t you mad at me?”

James didn’t respond for a moment, but finally turned.

“What, we can’t be friends?” he asked.

“I wasn’t very nice to you the other night,” Lily said, and then groaned. “And—I mean, I feel awful about it but…you understand, don’t you?"

“I’m not here to tie you down, Lily,” James said, eyes firm behind his glasses. “If that’s what you think friends do…I don’t know what to tell you.”

“You’re not my friend,” Lily burst out, and then covered her eyes. “I mean—you are. But you’re…”

“It’s fine, Lils,” James said. When Lily looked up, he was shaking his head and stooping to dip his brush again. “Really, let’s just…let’s paint and tan. I’ll get us some sunscreen.”

“James—”

“You kissed me and then you said we weren’t friends. Forgive me if I’d rather stay where we are than go farther or backwards into those two territories that you seem to not want.”

Lily blinked.

James glanced at her, then away. “I should probably be asking you to leave. But I don’t want to lose you. Not yet. Not now, not if you really think that’s so inevitable.”

Lily stared at him. He was looking resolutely at his work, jaw tight. He looked beautiful, even when he was sad and overwhelmed. Lily was so angry at herself.

She didn’t want to lose him, either.

She timed her paint strokes to his, and they worked beside each other quietly.

~

Saint didn’t find what he expected to find.

Instead of Logan coming up the path, Luke Deveaux passed right by his car and open window.

Luke looked down in passing, probably expecting to see an empty vehicle, and then did a double take when, instead, he found Saint sitting there, Frankenstein in one hand, balanced on the steering wheel, and the other elbow resting out the window.

“Hello, tweedle,” Saint said.

Luke stopped walking. He had a gray t-shirt on with a large, navy Nike swoop on it, and black running shorts. Earbuds dangled around his neck, tangled in the two fine gold chains that hung there and trailing all the way into his pocket, where Saint could see the weight of his phone. He was sweaty, as though he had run here from Godric.

“What?” Luke said.

“Bad move,” Saint replied. “Taking your hit from The Shining twins.”

Luke just stared at him. He pushed his sweaty hair out of his eyes. Saint smiled. He liked Deveaux when he was caught off guard. This had never happened before.

“Well—” Luke began. “You’re here, too.”

“Not like that.”

Luke narrowed his eyes. “You said you didn’t deal.”

“I don’t.”

“So,” Luke’s eyes flit around the Jeep’s exterior. “You just sit in junk cars and read—” Luke looked forward. “Shelley?”

Saint frowned in approval and squinted back towards the house. “You say that almost as if you’ve read it.”

“I have.”

“What, in your ninth grade book report?”

“No, with my—” Luke turned his head away, mouth clamping shut.

“I see,” Saint said after a moment. “A bit of a strange parental bonding choice, but all right.”

“Fuck off,” Luke said. “And what the fuck did you call me?”

That was when Saint spotted Logan. He sat up and unlocked the Jeep doors with a click.

“Get in,” Saint said.

Luke scoffed. “Fuck off.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that in five seconds. Get in, tweedle, or I’ll tell your mother about your candy addiction.”

To Saint’s slight surprise—he was used to people being drawn to him—that seemed to work and Luke complied, but he walked slowly, distrustfully, around the bonnet before sliding into the passenger seat.

Logan was coming up a different path, one stemming from the back of the house to what looked like a side door.

“She wouldn’t care,” Luke said as he slammed the door.

“You in my passenger seat says differently,” Saint said, and glanced at Luke’s wrist. “Nice watch.”

It was gold and glittery. It looked like it had probably been his father’s, and by no means looked like it should be worn on a run.

“Your car smells like wet dog.”

“I don’t have a dog,” Saint replied, eyes on Logan. He had knocked and was waiting now.

“I was talking about Black.”

Saint glanced at him. “You’re funny, Galileo.”

Luke just shook his head, bringing his t-shirt up to wipe his forehead. “Stop calling me tweedle—you think I’m dumb?”

Saint laughed. “No.”

“All right,” Luke put a hand on the door. “I’m getting out.”

“No,” Saint said, and grabbed Luke’s arm, fingers wrapping around his wrist. “Stay here or you’ll blow this for both of us.”

Luke shook him off and Saint pushed his door open. He began his stride up towards the house without looking back. He wondered if Luke was a snoop. The thought made him smile.

Logan saw him when he was half-way to the door, and rolled his eyes, shoving his hands out in an effort to silently say go back.

“Hello, number ten,” Saint said, leaning beside the door. “Now, who are you waiting for?”

“Saint, don’t.”

“Look, I’m hoping it was me, and if so, your ride’s here.” Saint narrowed his eyes. “Let’s go.”

“What do you care if I’m here?”

Saint looked at Logan’s backpack, the one that was always filled with Crucio. Even at the sight of it he imagined that he could feel the sweet, sleepiness that occupied his nights at the orphanage.

The door opened.

“Oh, look,” Amycus said, resting a hand on the door. “Haven’t seen you in a while. What is it you’re calling yourself these days? Saint.”

“Hello, Amy,” Saint smiled. “Nice to see you, we’re going now.”

“You can’t,” Amycus snarled. “He owes us.”

“I’m sure you haven’t lost that much,” Saint said back evenly.

“Oh yeah?” Amycus laughed. “Why don’t we take a look at green-eyes here’s subconscious. You want something bad enough, you like something enough, something feels good enough, then there comes a point where you don’t even know how far you’ve gone to get it. How much Felix have you taken, do you think, Tremblay?”

Logan just looked down.

“See?” Amycus cocked his head. “He doesn’t know. Which means I make make up whatever number I like.”

Saint nodded, thoughtful. “Interesting. What number is that?”

Amycus just grinned. “Your friend here will know when I tell him.”

“Bullshit,” Logan snapped, and Saint held up a hand.

“We’re going now, and you know what?” Saint leaned in. “You don’t know shit about what he wants.”

“Come back without your handler, Tremblay,” Amycus called after them.

Back at the car, Saint could see Luke reading Frankenstein through the windshield.

“Who’s that?”

“Who you got your two hundred bucks for,” Saint murmured.

“What about the two hundred more you just cost me?”

“You’re welcome,” Saint said, and motioned to Luke to get out.

“And what exactly was I supposed to get out of this?” Luke said, crossing his arms.

“A chit-chat with yours truly,” Saint replied. “Logan, get in the car.”

Logan glared, but took Luke’s place in the passenger seat.

Saint slid back into the driver’s side, took Logan’s backpack from him, and slung it into the back seat.

“Oh,” Saint leaned out his window. “And I’m sure you can go right up now.”

“I’m sure I can,” Luke tossed Saint the book. “Don’t forget Potter’s book. Did you steal it, or what?”

If only he knew, Saint thought. 

“Bye, Luke,” Saint called as he turned out of the grove and down the street. He looked in his review mirror and smiled at the sight of Luke standing, framed in it. Then, he put his arm lazily on the steering wheel and let Luke’s golden watch flash in the sunlight on his wrist.

“You didn’t have to fucking—fetch me,” Logan grumbled.

“Yes, I fucking did.”

Logan turned towards him in his seat, and for a moment Saint thought he was going for his backpack, but Logan just looked at him.

“Look,” Logan said.

“I’m driving.”

Logan ignored him.

“There’s a treasure,” Logan said instead. “Leo told me about it. He thinks his dad knows where it is—The Cradle? Look, I—If we can get it—”

“Oh, good,” Saint sighed. “He sells Crucio and he’s a Voldemort tourist.”

Logan blinked. “You know about it?”

Saint scoffed. “Of course I know about it. Everyone knows about it, Logan.”

“Fine, but—if we can get it, then I can pay off—”

“I’m sorry, excuse me, excuse me,” Saint held up a hand, one on the wheel. The houses went from the tall mansions of Salazar to the workshop rows of Helga, to the low houses of The Hollow. “Did you or did you not just place all of your hopes of freedom on a long lost, legendary treasure.”

“Bash—Saint.”

“Answer the question.”

“It’s not my hope, it’s just an option.”

Saint just shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Come on,” Logan urged as Saint stopped the car in front of The Lion. “Isn’t there something you want? Something that much gold could get you?”

“Come to think of it, there isn’t that much I want, no.”

Logan paused, and then said, “Then, is there something you hate?”

When Saint didn’t reply for enough time, Logan took his backpack and got out of the car.

~

Sirius had dreamed about his little brother last night. Only, he had been on Wolfsbane, and Regulus had been on shore. There had been someone else in the boat, too, someone expertly pulling the ropes and taking Sirius farther out to sea. The wind had been warm.

Sirius had woken up thinking about Remus Lupin.

His entire day was thrown off.

Sirius looked over at Saint. “Are we going to talk about it?”

Saint had his head in Dorcas’ lap and his eyes closed. “Pardon?”

Dorcas and Sirius glanced at each other. “Logan.”

“We were at Saint Clair together. What else is there to say?”

“Maybe how he got out.”

“And why,” Dorcas added, running a hand through Saint’s hair. “It might help if you talked about that place more.”

“I’m good, thanks.”

Sirius groaned. “Saint. Come on, that kid looked freaked talking to you and then he bolted. What’s up?”

Saint sighed, his face opening up into a rare moment of softer eyes, and he sat up, nearly facing away from the both of them.

Sirius listened to the crickets outside. Before, he had just wanted to know about the orphanage. Now, he wanted Saint to not have to keep it all inside.

“When I arrived when I was five, Logan and Finn were already there,” Saint said finally. “And its not like its this horrible place. We have beds and food and we go to school together. We have friends. But we’re also locked away. The nuns are strict. The punishments are old-fashioned. A slap. A few days in solitude. The problem is…”

Sirius got up from his perch on the window and sat beside Saint on the ratty old couch they had dragged in. Saint didn’t look at him, but let him and Dorcas lay gentle hands on him, Dorcas’ on his back, Sirius’ one of his crossed ankles.

“I watched kids turn eighteen,” Saint said, voice steely. “And they’d be packing their bags and then—unpacking them.”

“They,” Dorcas began. “You mean they decided to stay?”

Saint just shook his head slowly. “I still haven't completely figured it out. I think—maybe Crucio has something to do with it. It’s the only thing I can think of that would make them stay. I keep having this—this memory of being so tired at night. And these dreams.”

“The plant Crucio is made out of has Melatonin in it,” Dorcas said, brow creased. “It influences the dreaming. The hallucinations.”

“So, what?” Sirius asked. “They stay for Crucio, you think?”

“They work some,” Saint said. “Around the island. But, yeah. They stay.”

“You think they’re bringing money back?” Dorcas asked gently. “To the orphanage?”

Saint shrugged. “I told you. I haven’t completely figured it out. But I’d rather figure it out from the outside. Even when I was seven, I knew something was wrong. But I was older when I arrived. Finn and Logan had been there since they were too young to recognize something like that. They didn’t know anything else.”

“And…you do?” Sirius asked faintly. Saint had never brought up remembering anything about his prior life, his family.

Saint laughed faintly and got up. “Who knows. That’s the thing about memories, right? We tend to make them worse, or make them better.” Sirius watched him go to the sink and turn it on and off. He opened the refrigerator and then closed it. Finally, he stilled.

“But I hate them,” Saint said, almost to himself. “I hate them for making anything feel real.”

Sirius opened his mouth to respond when Dorcas’ phone lit up with a loud ping.

She picked it up. “From Marlene. Apparently we’re invited to a movie night at Potter’s house.”

“Of course we are,” Sirius sighed, and got up and wrapped his arms around Saint from behind. “What do you feel like?”

Saint looked at him over his shoulder. “Well, how could I ever pass that up?”

~

When Logan didn’t find Leo at The Lion, he went to the Knut’s workshop instead. He’d been in there a handful of times now. It was a crowded room, walls-to-ceiling tools and cupboards that organized different found objects. Sea-glass and shards of blue china. There was large glass jars of things like compasses or pieces of weather vanes hanging by woven rope plant holders from the ceiling. There was a forge that was cool now, and there was a long work bench.

He found Leo on the work bench with the garage door open to the street, shirtless and welding something together.

“Oh,” Logan said instead of announcing himself.

Leo looked up, then back down, sparks flying around him. “Hey, what’s up?”

Logan walked a few steps inside and set his backpack—which was still empty—down.

“I want to help you,” he said.

The sparks stopped and Leo pushed his welding mask up. He was sweaty, his cheeks flushed from the heat. “What? With this?”

Logan rolled his eyes and walked in to straddle the other end of the work bench. “The treasure. We need to find the treasure. Think how rich we’d be.”

Leo stared at him for a long moment, then took his mask off and set his equipment down. For a moment, his face looked thunderous. Logan thought he was about to tell him to get out, but the storm dissipated.

“This isn’t a joke to me,” Leo said evenly after another pause. “And it’s not some greedy game, either. That’s not why my dad looked for things like this. He loved history.”

Logan blinked. “You—you don’t want the money?”

Leo rolled his eyes. “Of course I do. What do you think the finder gets?”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying don’t make me regret telling you. I’m saying my dad was never one to just pawn things off. He wanted things like that on display, for people to learn from.”

“How very, very noble and grand,” came another voice, and they both looked up to see Saint standing there. He had changed since the last time Logan had seen him. He was wearing a t-shirt that said New Orleans Saints.

“Saint?” Leo said.

“Hi there,” Saint gave a little salute. “I have a movie night to go to, apparently, a nice little godly sleepover, but I thought I’d stop by.”

“What are you doing…” Logan began warily.

“Well, come to think of it, there is something I hate.”

Leo tilted his head. “What is he talking about?”

“Not to mention,” Saint continued, and touched the bottom of the hanging compasses. He studied one, then looked at them and grinned.

“I do like gold,” Saint said.

[theultimatefanficwriter]

12 Days of Danganronpa Day 3: Byakuya Togami

“Hey, Makoto! Over here!” 

Byakuya furrowed his brow in annoyance, lifting his gaze from his book to look to the corner of the library where Yasuhiro was seated. The clairvoyant was waving over the Ultimate Lucky Student.

The shorter boy shrugged and began making his way over, waving and shooting Byakuya a smile as he passed. The heir huffed and returned his attention to the book. 

“Are you excited for Christmas, Makoto?!” Hiro asked as his friend sat across from him.

“Oh, yeah, I am!” The younger of the two confirmed. “This will be Kyoko and mine’s first Christmas together, and I’m excited to spend it with her.”

“Dude, same with me and Daiya!” Hiro beamed, leaning back in his seat. “He says he wants me to celebrate it with his family, but uh…” The fortune teller scratched his neck. “I think Mondo still hasn’t...accepted I’m dating his brother.”

“Ah, right.” Makoto chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah, he looked about ready to tear your head off when you told him. But he cares about Daiya a lot, and when he sees how happy the two of you are together, he’ll come around.”

The taller boy smiled softly. “You think so?”

Makoto nodded. “Yeah, I do!” He placed a hand on Hiro’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure everything will be alright.”

Yasuhiro let out a relieved breath.

“Speaking of Mondo.” Makoto continued. “He recently told me he’s getting Taka this really nice red scarf for Christmas. And I’m getting Kyoko a new pair of gloves I saw her looking at in the mall. What present are you getting Daiya?”

It was at this conversation that Byakuya froze. ‘A present? Damn, I’d completely forgotten.’ He thought to himself, then closed the book he was holding as the sound reverberated around the library. The others inside turned to look as he quickly stood and made his way out.

~~~

Byakuya cursed quietly as he began quickly making his way to his room. Christmas was so close, and he had forgotten to get you a gift! That would not stand. You were the only one in his class that didn’t make him feel like going insane. If he didn’t show you how much he genuinely appreciated you, you’d think he didn’t care about you when that could not be further from the truth!

“Perhaps chocolate and flowers? No, too pedestrian.” He muttered. “Even that musclehead Mondo found a more meaningful gift for his significant other. Come on, this shouldn’t be so hard. What does she enjoy?” The affluent prodigy looked down at the ground as he walked, trying to recall your interests. “Perhaps-”

“Look out!” 

The warning came too late. Byakuya barely had time to look up before someone collided with him. This caused the boy to stumble backwards. He managed to stay on his feet by leaning against the wall. “What in the-?!”

“Oh shit, sorry, Byakuya!” The annoyed ultimate turned to see the red haired baseball star Leon Kuwata smiling nervously at him. “I wasn’t looking where I was going and-”

“Clearly.” The heir huffed, dusting off his suit. “Just open your eyes next time, you ignoramus.”

Leon furrowed his brow in confusion. “Igno...wha?”

Byakuya rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I don’t have time for this. I need to...Wait a moment.” He slowly turned to look to the ginger. “You are friends with Y/N, correct?”

The redhead tilted his head. “Huh? Uh, y-yeah. Why? If you think I’m gonna try to steal your girl from you, I swear, I have my eyes on S-”

“Silence.” The Togami heir interrupted the other. “I’m not concerned about you ‘stealing my girl.’ Y/N is much too intelligent and cultured to go for someone of your...ilk.” He turned to fully face Leon. “No, what I need from you is to tell me what if there is anything Y/N had mentioned wanting recently.”

Leon scratched at his head. “Something she’s mentioned wanting? Why?” His eyes widened. “Have you not gotten her a Christmas gift, yet?!”

Byakuya scoffed. “Of course I have.” He lied. “I’m simply curious as to her interests, like any partner should be.”

The baseball player shrugged. “Aight, whatever.” The boy sniffed and rubbed at his nose as he thought. “Well, she was saying how she wanted to go see Ibuki from Class 77-B perform with Sayaka. She mentioned she couldn’t really afford the tickets and didn’t wanna ask them for a freebie just ‘cause they’re friends.”

Byakuya furrowed his brow in thought. Tickets to a concert? No, that was still too ordinary. Y/N deserved only the best. “Is that all she mentioned?”

Leon nodded. “That I can remember. Y/N doesn’t really talk about that sorta thing often.”

The heir sighed. “Very well. You’re dismissed.” And with that he turned on his heel and began making his way down the hall.

~~~

“Byakuya, what a surprise.” Celestia smiled politely as she opened her door to reveal the taller man there. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“You are the only other person in our pathetic year that has even the smallest understanding of class.” He began. “I felt you were the only one I could ask and get a worthy answer.”

Celeste chuckled and stepped to the side, allowing Byakuya in. “Well, I am honored.” She stated, closing the door behind Byakuya when he entered. She made her way to her bed and sat gracefully on it. “What exactly is it you require my assistance with?”

The rich boy sat down on a chair as he looked to the gambler. “I need a present to give Y/N for Christmas.” He told her. “It had slipped my mind until I overheard Makoto and Hiro talking about it.”

Celeste nodded. “I see. Well, have you considered what she is most interested in?”

Byakuya rolled his eyes. “Of course I have.” He snapped. “I even asked that idiot Leon, but all he told me was Y/N wanted to go to some concert. But that isn’t good enough for her.”

“I concur.” The gothic lolita agreed. “I suggest you spare no expense. Money is obviously no issue for you, so perhaps you could buy out a restaurant for the evening and have a private dinner. I would also suggest giving her an expensive necklace. Y/N is a lovely person, but she desperately needs more diamonds in her wardrobe.”

Byakuya thought for a moment, nodding his head. “You know, I think that idea could work.” He grinned lightly. “I knew you were the right one to go to. I give you my thanks, Celeste.”

The girl smiled and waved at the heir as he stood to leave. “It was my pleasure. I am glad I could be of assistance.”

~~~

A short while later, Byakuya was walking back to his dorm in order to make the needed calls for the gift.

“H-hey, Byakuya! Wait a minute!”

He stopped and turned as his name was called. There was Chihiro, running up to catch up with him. “What is it? I’m busy.” He said in annoyance.

The programmer came to a stop in front of the prodigy. “I-I know, I’m sorry. I-it’s just, Leon told me you asked him for help getting Y/N a present, and I-”

“I did not.” Byakuya stopped the boy. “I simply wanted to learn of Y/N’s interests.” 

Chihiro flinched. “W-well, Celeste then mentioned you came to her as well.” He continued. “They told me what they suggested, and I just wanted to ask who’s idea you went with.”

The taller of the time sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Can no one here hold their tongue?” He grumbled, then looked to the smaller boy. “I have decided to listen to Celeste’s advice. It was the one that made most sense.”

Chihiro frowned. “I was worried about that.” He reached a hand forward before a glare from Byakuya made him place his hand down. “U-um, I think you should listen to Leon. It may not be as expensive or classy, but it’s more Y/N’s taste.”

Byakuya rolled his eyes. “I’m sure she’ll enjoy the other gift just as much if not more.”

Chihiro rubbed the back of his neck. “I d-don’t mean to argue, but...Y/N prefers simpler things. It will mean more if you give her a gift she’s interested in. She’ll still appreciate whatever you get her, of course, but if you really want her to know you care, the gift should come from what she likes.” Byakuya frowned as he took this in. The look on his face made Chihiro shift awkwardly. “U-um, b-but that’s just my opinion. I just thought you should know.” He then turned and began to leave. “S-sorry for bothering you!” 

Byakuya watched as the smaller boy ran off, leaving him alone to ponder what he had said.

~~~

It was now Christmas day, and the Ultimate Affluent Prodigy stood outside your door waiting for you to open it.

It didn’t take long for you to do so, and you smiled when you saw him. “Merry Christmas, Byakuya!” You greeted him, leaning up on your tiptoes to peck his cheek. 

“Merry Christmas, Y/N.” He returned the greeting, a small smile on his lips. “May I come in?”

You nodded and allowed him entry. You closed the door behind him before both of you walked over and sat on your bed. You reached over to the side and pulled out a small box. “I don’t know if now is an alright time, but I’m excited for you to open your present.”

Byakuya chuckled as he took the gift from you. “I believe now is as good a time as any other.” He said as he began unwrapping the box. He placed the wrapping paper to the side and revealed a black box. He opened it, and you watched as he smiled. He grabbed something from the small box and held it in his hand. It was an expensive looking gem encrusted pocket watch.

“Do you like it?” You asked nervously.

“Like it?” Byakuya repeated as he turned the watch over in his hand, inspecting it. “It’s wonderful. I love it.” He slipped the watch into his shirt pocket, then turned to you and kissed your forehead.

You giggled happily. “Oh, I’m so glad you like it! I know you have a taste for the fancier things, so I decided to get you something aligned to those tastes.”

The heir frowned. “I do appreciate it, but I hope you did not spend money you didn’t have.”

“No no, don’t worry!” You assured him. “I used money I had saved away. I planned this for a while.”

Byakuya nodded, satisfied with the answer. “I have something for you as well.” The heir mentioned, reaching into his suit pocket. 

Your smile widened. “Oh, Byakuya, you didn’t have to get me anything!”

Your boyfriend scoffed. “Of course I did. You spent more money than you most likely should have on me. It would be extremely unfair if I didn’t buy you anything as well.” He pulled something out of his pocket. “I also thought for a while about what to get you. In the end, I think this was the best gift.” He placed something in front of you. “Here.”

You looked down, and your eyes widened. You quickly picked the gift up. “Tickets to Ibuki and Sayaka’s concert?!” You exclaimed. “How did you know I wanted these?!”

Byakuya smirked and adjusted his glasses. “I will admit, I had a little help from your friends Leon and Chihiro.” He confessed. “Leon mentioned you wanted to see the two perform, and Chihiro suggested I buy two of them, so we can spent quality time together.”

You felt tears of happiness in your eyes. You lunged at your partner, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your lips against his. 

He chuckled and closed his eyes as he rested his hands on your waist. 

When you pulled away, you rested your head on his chest happily. “Thank you, Byakuya. This...this has been the best Christmas ever.”

And with four votes, it’s Byakuya Togami for Day 3 of 12 Days of Danganronpa! I used to roleplay as Byakuya, so I’m a bit more comfortable writing him, however like with ALL these fics, the plot is a bit rushed. I am happier with this one than the previous fic, however. And if you are wondering, yes. This fic is filled with self indulgence. I ship Hiro and Daiya way more than I should, and Ishimondo is always a win ^_^  I hope you enjoyed, and come back for Day 4 tomorrow!

[jade4813]

Questions in Time

Fandom: The Flash

Title: Questions in Time

Rating: G

Pairing: Barry/Iris

Synopsis: Barry and Iris's relationship has been marked by a series of questions. Entry for the 2021 Westallen Alphabet celebration on Tumblr.

“What’s your name?” the young girl asked as she bent to help him gather his things, which lay scattered on the floor from where he dropped them.

He flushed and shot her a quick look. “Barry. Barry Allen. What’s yours?” He mumbled an embarrassed thanks as she placed the last rogue paper on the stack in her hands and passed them over.

She didn’t seem to notice his discomfort or the blush staining his cheeks. “Iris. You’re new here, huh?” At his nod, she rose to her feet and adjusted the weight of the backpack that was slung over one shoulder. “You headed to lunch?” He didn’t even get a chance to answer before she continued in a voice that brooked no argument, “Come on. You can sit with me.”

He straightened, realizing that Iris was a good two inches taller than him. He had thankfully outgrown every child’s fear of the cooties but was still young enough to be able to admit that she was pretty without being worried about what that thought might mean. From the casual greetings students offered her as they passed, he could also tell she was popular.

But she didn’t seem to notice the curious looks she drew as she walked into the cafeteria next to the new boy who was still too much of a stranger to have made any friends. She also didn’t notice his shyness. Instead, she rambled away as she quietly guided him on which foods on offer were safe to eat and which were to be avoided at all costs.

He was too young to recognize what love was. But if he’d been just a little bit older, he might have suspected he fell in love with her from that very first conversation on their very first day of being friends. And he would never stop.

---

“Anyway, wanna spend the night at my house tonight?” Iris asked, appearing out of nowhere and presenting the question as though the two of them were in the middle of a conversation they absolutely hadn’t been having.

Luckily, Barry and Iris had been friends long enough that this tendency of hers no longer surprised him. “Probably, but I’ve gotta ask my mom. Did your dad give permission already?”

She shrugged, unperturbed by her technical lack of permission. “He’s got a big case, so he’ll be working late tonight.” Joe tended to be more lenient about Iris having friends over on nights he was wrapped up in a case at work. Possibly because he felt guilty to work such long hours. “I’m gonna ask if we can rent a couple movies when he picks me up from school. We can have popcorn and ice cream and – ooh, Celeste!”

Her head whipped around as she caught sight of one of her other friends as they passed in the hallway. In a hurried voice, she blurted, “Catch you after fifth period? I’ve gotta ask Celeste a question about our math homework.”

Before he could even answer, she’d darted away.

---

“What’s up, Bar? You not enjoying the movie?” At his quick look of surprise, she explained, “You just sighed.”

He grimaced, lifting one hand to rub the back of his neck sheepishly. He hadn’t realized he’d even made a noise. “Ah, no, it’s okay. It’s just…” He let his voice trail off. Lifting her eyebrows slightly, she gave him an encouraging nod. Rolling his eyes at her, he explained, “I didn’t realize there would be this much kissing.”

Iris laughed, the sound washing over him like music. “I didn’t realize you minded kissing movies so much. What’s the matter? You don’t still think girls will give you cooties?” she teased him.

That wasn’t the problem at all. The problem was that he’d found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss her. He didn’t know where the thought had come from. Or why it had come upon him so suddenly. But he absolutely couldn’t let her know what he’d been thinking.

“No!” he blurted, a little too defensively. The sharpness of his tone caused her to straighten from her reclining position on the couch, her body moving slightly away from him. Desperate to rescue the situation – while still keeping her ignorant of his private thoughts – he stammered, “I-I was just wondering if, uh, if you had ever kissed anyone?” His tone lifted at the end in question, breaking off with a small wince of mortification as he realized he’d probably picked the worst way to deflect her suspicion.

But she didn’t seem suspicious. Instead, she seemed strangely shy, kicking her foot out to trace patterns on the floor with one bare toe. “Oh,” she breathed. “No. Have – have you?”

He shook his head desperately, hoping she wouldn’t see his utter humiliation. Or the words that hovered on the tip of her tongue, asking her if she wanted to kiss him.

He made a soft choking sound when she asked, “Do you want to try?”

“Try what?” he practically squeaked.

She didn’t directly answer the question. “I-I mean, we’re friends. I just thought…kissing seems so silly, but…I’m not sure I’d do it right, and I’d feel less nervous if I tried with a friend.”

“Oh,” he replied, somewhat stupidly. “Okay.”

His breath caught in his throat as her eyes flew to his, and he could see she’d been expecting him to turn her down. But then her face softened into a smile, and she leaned forward, moving almost torturously slowly.

She hadn’t even bridged half the distance before footsteps sounded in the doorway and Joe strolled into the room, his arms filled with two large bows of popcorn. “Thought you guys might be hungry, so I brought some snacks,” he explained obliviously as Iris and Barry sprang apart as though they’d been caught in the midst of some sort of illicit activity.

Neither of them mentioned what they had been about to do. They certainly didn’t try again. But when Barry went to bed that night, he found himself wondering what it would have been like to kiss Iris. And wondering even more why he was having such thoughts about the girl who was supposed to be his best friend.

---

“Do you really believe me?” he asked, his head in her lap as she ran her hands soothingly through his hair. He kept his face averted, not wanting her to see the tears that streaked his cheeks. Though she’d been listening to him sob for at least the last hour, so she could hardly be ignorant that he’d been crying. “About what I saw?”

“Of course I believe you, Barry,” she reassured him gently.

“They think it was my dad,” he whispered miserably. “But h-he wouldn’t—”

“I know,” she broke in, sliding one hand to his shoulder to give it a soft squeeze. “I don’t know who the Man in Yellow was, but we’ll figure it out somehow. Together. Okay?”

---

“Where are you going?” Iris’s soft voice was almost enough to stop him in his tracks. But he was too angry, he was hurting too much, to be forestalled for long.

“I’m leaving!” he grumbled angrily, tossing some clothes into his backpack. “Joe doesn’t believe me about my dad! Nobody believes me! They think I’m crazy, that I—”

“I believe you,” she refuted him, her words soft and sad.

He hesitated, throwing her an apologetic look over his shoulder. “I know,” he finally agreed, his words tinged with regret. “But he wants to take me to another therapist who will tell me I imagined what I saw that night. I didn’t, I swear! And I can’t just abandon my dad in jail like they want me to."

She gave a quick, decisive nod and threw her arms around his shoulders in a tight hug. “I know. You do what you gotta do, Barry Allen. I’ll try to cover for you with dad.”

Before he pulled away, she pressed her lips softly his cheek. Even through his fury and his frustration, as he ran down the street away from the West house a few minutes later, the spot where she’d kissed him tingled.

---

“So, you planning to go to the dance on Friday?” Iris asked cheerfully as he passed her in the hallway, his hair still wet from the shower.

He snorted. “Of course not. It sounds dumb. Why?”

If he wasn’t wrong, she looked a little embarrassed. And maybe just a tiny bit hurt. “Oh. No reason, I guess. I just…Steve Asherman asked me to go, but I thought I’d rather go with you. But it’s okay. You’re probably right. It’ll be stupid anyway.”

With that, she ducked into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Leaving Barry to reproach himself for his rashly chosen words. Wishing he could find a way to turn back time to ask her to be his date to the dance after all.

---

“Well? How do I look?” she asked, spinning in a circle in front of him.

He couldn’t tear is eyes away. “A-amazing,” he answered honestly. “You look amazing.”

She came to a stop with a grin. “You sure you don’t want to come along? I’m sure Steve wouldn’t mind.”

Barry had no doubt Steve absolutely would mind, since it was the worst-kept secret at school that his crush on Iris was exceeded in duration and devotion only by Barry’s own. Plus, he could imagine nothing worse than being a fifth wheel on a date with Iris. Particularly knowing he could have been on her arm – as a friend, at least – if not for a few thoughtless words. “Nah, that’s okay,” he replied, keeping his voice lighter than he felt. “I had a book I wanted to read tonight anyway.”

She laughed. “You are such a nerd, Bar,” she teased him lightly. Before he could even consider whether his feelings should be hurt at this assessment, she threw her arms around his shoulders and stretched onto her toes to give him a hug. It had been a long time since the days she’d towered over him. “But that’s one of the things I love most about you.”

He felt her start to pull away and felt his arms tighten around her, wishing to prolong the embrace. Her words echoed in his mind. “…that’s one of the things I love most about you. Love most about you. Love you.”

He didn’t realize what she was about to do until it was already done. As she started to pull away, she turned her head slightly and brushed her lips against his in a quick kiss. He froze when he realized what had happened, and she took the opportunity to step out of his arms.

“Wh-what was that?” he asked, knowing his face had to be bright red.

“Oh,” she replied, and he could see the flush on her own cheeks. “It’s just…it’s silly, but…you were supposed to be my first kiss, remember? I mean, it was years ago, so m-maybe you don’t. But then my dad interrupted us, and I—”

“I remember,” he prompted when her voice trailed off. She wouldn’t look at him, her fingers worrying the fabric of her dress instead.

“Oh. Of course you do. Well, I just – uh – it seemed a shame to have my first kiss with someone else when…I mean, you’re my best friend so I thought – I’m sure I wasn’t very good at it, but—”

He shook his head, cutting her off. “No, you were fine! I mean, I think you were. It was just so fast. I just, um, I don’t think I did a very good job, is all. I didn’t realize – I mean, I didn’t know—”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just laid one on you like that. I was just nervous about tonight. I thought if Steve tried to kiss me, I wouldn’t know what to do.” She huffed out a deep breath. “It’s stupid. I’m sorry,” she reiterated.

“No, it’s okay!��� he reassured her quickly. “I, um, do you want to kiss Steve? I mean, if he tries to kiss you?”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “I haven’t decided. I just wanted to be prepared. You know, in case.”

“Right,” he agreed rather vaguely. Not really sure what he was agreeing to or whether he should be agreeing at all. His mind was too preoccupied by the realization she’d kind of kissed him and he’d missed it. “Do you, uh, do you want to try again?” When she looked surprised and a little confused, he explained, “I just…I was surprised, so I don’t think I did a very good job the first time. If you’re wondering what it’s like to kiss someone, I don’t think I helped very much.”

“Oh,” she said for the third time in as many minutes. “Um…sure.”

He could tell she was nervous. He was too, as he leaned down slowly, giving her every opportunity to change her mind and step away. Until the distance was breached and his lips were pressed gently but firmly against her own.

If he ever looked back on their first as an adult, and if he could be honest with himself when doing so, he’d acknowledge that – in the entire history of kisses – his first kiss with Iris would rank nowhere near the top in terms of finesse. It couldn’t have been a more awkward first kiss if they’d tried, since neither knew what they were doing so they just stood there with their lips pressed together and didn’t move so much as an inch.

But he’d dreamed about kissing Iris for so long, he couldn’t have imagined a more perfect moment if he’d tried. If only he knew how she felt about him in return.

When the kiss finally broke off, Iris pulling away as her eyes darted around the room nervously, he tried to tell her how he felt. “Iris, I—”

“Iris!” Joe called from downstairs. “Your date’s here!”

“I-I should go,” she blurted before he could continue. “I don’t want to keep him waiting.” She turned to run downstairs but hesitated in the doorway. Throwing him a quick glance over her shoulder, the corners of her lips curved up in a soft smile. “Thank you, Bar. I hope kissing me wasn’t too traumatizing for you,” she teased him gently.

As she disappeared, he groaned in the back of his throat and leaned back against the wall. Actually, it had been devastating. It had left no doubt in his mind that he loved her. He always had. He always would. And she would never see him as anything other than her best friend.

---

“Got everything you need?” she asked, her eyes scouring the room as she grabbed for his hand. Intentionally drawing out the moment before they would have to say goodbye.

He let her, no more eager to leave her than she was to see him go. “I think so,” he said, a touch of regret in his voice. Then, clearing his throat, he said more encouragingly, “This isn’t forever, you know. I’ll come home over breaks and at the holidays…”

“I know,” she cut in, the cheer in her voice not ringing true. Scowling when she seemed to realize the same thing, she added in a tone just above a whisper, “It’s just…it won’t be the same. I’ve been spoiled, getting to see you every day.” Then, giving his hand a quick squeeze, she said more firmly, “But I know you’re going to do great. You’ll blow everyone away with how brilliant you are, and pretty soon, you’ll forget all about me.”

“Never!” he vowed, the word thick with feeling as he pulled her into his arms for a tight hug. “I could never forget about you.”

He heard her soft sniffle as she pressed her cheek against his shoulder. When she finally drew back, he could see the wetness in her eyes as she fought back tears. “Just…do good, Bar. After you graduate, come home to me and we’ll figure out the identity of the Man in Yellow together. Promise?”

Barry was momentarily taken aback. He hadn’t realized she knew why he was pursuing his planned course of study, or that she was even aware how much the mystery still plagued his mind. But in retrospect, he probably should have known better. That was Iris. Of course she knew.

He pressed a kiss against her forehead, wishing – not for the first or last time – he was brave enough to tell her how he felt. Knowing it wasn’t the right moment. “I promise.”

---

“Well? Tell me everything!” she blurted before he’d had even settled into the passenger seat by her side. “How do you like college life? Have you been to any wild parties? Gotten any crushes on some hot girl in your science classes?”

He laughed as he struggled with his seatbelt, finally wrestling it into place. “Wow, what’s with the interrogation? Has anyone ever told you that you’d be a terrifyingly good detective? Or actually a damn good reporter?”

She snorted. “You know dad would never allow me to wear a badge, and I can’t see reporting being quite my speed. I was thinking of psychology, actually. Which, by the way, is why I know what you’re doing is deflecting so you don’t have to answer my questions about all the hot dates you’ve been going on in my absence.”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Sorry to burst your bubble, but I’ve been studying too hard to go on any hot dates, if you want to know the truth.” He swallowed, wondering if he dared say a little more. “I do, uh, have a crush on someone, actually. But I doubt she even knows I exist. I mean, romantically. She’d never want to go out with me. We’re just friends.”

She scowled. “What’s her name and number? I want to call her and tell her to open her eyes and stop being such an idiot because you, Barry Allen, are the most incredible guy I’ve ever met. And you deserve someone as amazing as you.”

“Yeah?” he asked, feeling a tiny spark of hope flare in his chest. He’d hoped time away at college would have cured him of his unrequited love of her, but it seemed to have done just the opposite. Being with her now, he realized he loved her more than he ever did before he left.

“Yeah,” she agreed in a voice that invited no argument. “Now, I want to hear all about it, but I think this conversation calls for caffeine and baked goods. Unless you’re in a hurry to get back to the house?”

He shook his head. “Nope. I’m all yours,” he replied. If only she knew how true that was.

---

“Who’s she?” Iris asked as she flopped back onto Barry’s bed, the flimsy frame letting out a loud shriek of protest at the sudden jarring motion. He looked over to see she was holding the picture frame that had been sitting on his bookshelf for the past two weeks, bringing him equal measures of pleasure and guilt.

“Oh,” he said rather dimly, sliding onto the narrow mattress next to her. She scooted toward the head of the bed until her back was pressed against the wall and he followed suit, their shoulders pressing together in the limited quarters available to him. “That’s Holly. She was my study partner for finite math.” At her expectant look, he explained, “We’ve, uh, we’ve been dating for a couple months now.”

Her mouth dropped open, less with surprise than with joy. “You’re dating someone? Barry, that’s fantastic! Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend?”

He winced. “Girlfriend? I don’t know that I would call her my girlfriend, per se. It’s just been a few dates, and—”

“Don’t be silly,” she cut in, rolling her eyes at him. “If it’s been a couple months, she’s your girlfriend.”

That only served to make his guilt worse. Did she find it peculiar that he kept a picture of his “girlfriend” on his bookshelf and a picture of Iris on his nightstand? If so, she didn’t say anything about it. The problem was, Barry didn’t know if it was peculiar. He didn’t know if it unconsciously revealed something he’d felt but didn’t want to openly accept.

Like the fact that, nice as she was, Holly wasn’t Iris. And she never would be.

“Anyway, she’s very pretty,” Iris continued, ignorant to his thoughts as she gave the picture in her hand a critical look. “Is she nice?”

Now it was Barry’s turn to roll his eyes good-naturedly at her. “No, of course not. I only go for surly girls. Mean ones. You know that.”

She snorted and elbowed him in the ribs as just punishment for his teasing. “To you, you goofball. Is she nice to you?”

“I guess so,” he admitted reluctantly.

“Well, I’m glad. You deserve someone nice. I hope she makes you happy.”

“She does.” The problem was, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make her happy. Not when his heart had long ago been given to another.

---

“You okay?” Iris asked, dropping onto the porch stair beside him. “Dad said you and Holly broke up.” Then, as though afraid he’d be upset his secret was out, she rushed to add, “Don’t be mad at him for telling me. I think he’s worried about you.”

“I’m not mad,” Barry reassured her, tilting his head back to look up at the stars. While he was sure she was under the misconception his failed relationship had brought him to silent and solitary contemplation on the front porch, the truth was, he hadn’t been thinking about Holly at all. He’d been thinking about Iris. Which was, when one came down to it, why their relationship had been doomed to fail from the start.

Scooting in closer, she laid her head against his shoulder, offering him condolences he didn’t deserve. “You’ll find the right girl someday, Bar. I just know it. Someone as amazing as you are.”

He made a soft sound in the back of his throat, uncomfortable at accepting her comfort under false pretenses. “What about you? Don’t you want to fall in love one day?”

He regretted the question when it caused her to lift her head off of him so she could follow his gaze toward the starry night sky. “Me?” she asked in a voice so soft it barely broke the still evening air. “I’m not sure I know what love feels like. People say it’s like being swept away, like fireworks exploding all around you. And I’ve never felt anything like that.”

He shrugged, sliding one hand toward her until he linked his fingers in hers. “Maybe love is nothing like that. At least, maybe it isn’t like that for everyone. Maybe it’s like this. Sharing a quiet evening with someone you can’t imagine life without. That doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”

Her smile was brighter than the light coming from the street lamp nearby, and then she sighed and placed her head upon his shoulder once more. “No,” she admitted, letting her body rest against his. “I guess that doesn’t sound so bad at all.”

He could tell she hadn’t understood, hadn’t realized that he was speaking of his own feelings. In that moment, he almost told her how much he loved her. But the timing didn’t seem right, so he rested his cheek against the top of his head and held his tongue. Soon. He’d tell her he loved her soon.

---

“What’s the big news?” Iris asked excitedly, blowing into the room like a gust of fresh air. Leaving him breathless in her wake.

“You’re looking at the newest CSI for the Central City Police Department!” he replied with a wide grin.

“Really? That’s amazing! I knew you could do it!” she cried, joyfully flinging her arms around his neck.

Soon. He’d tell her he loved her soon.

---

“Barry, can you hear me? Do you even know I’m here?” Iris asked, her voice cracking with tears she struggled not to shed as she placed her hand over his. Trying to be strong for him. “The doctors say they don’t know if – when – you’ll wake up, but I know you’re in there somewhere. Come back to me, Bar. I need you.”

---

“Are you – this is real? It’s really you?” Iris asked, cupping his face between her palms before running her hands along his shoulders and down his chest.

He captured her hands in his, holding them still over his heart. “It’s really me.”

Tearing her hands free, she flung them around his neck, pulling him into yet another hug. At least their eighth in the past half hour. “I dreamed you’d come back to me so many times. I’d almost given up hope—”

He tightened his arms around her waist, content to hold her for however long she wanted. If it was up to him, he’d never let her go. “I’ll always come back to you, Iris. You should know that.”

---

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked him in a tortured whisper. “All this time, you never told me how you felt.”

“Because I was scared. I didn’t want to lose you. I don’t want to lose you.”

But she wouldn’t meet his eyes, turning her face away so he couldn’t read her thoughts, and he felt his heart sink in his chest. Had he lost her anyway?

---

“I picked up some breakfast. Want some?” she offered him a little awkwardly as she gave a box of baked goods a gentle push in his direction. Things had been awkward between them since he’d told her of his feelings. He didn’t know if they’d ever stop being awkward. But at least she was still trying. She hadn’t given up on him yet.

“Yeah,” he agreed with a small sigh of relief, reaching for the blueberry muffin he suspected she’d picked up just for him, since neither she nor Joe liked blueberries. “Thanks.”

---

“I just don’t understand. You’ve been lying to me this whole time about being the Flash? I mean, it’s one thing not to tell me your secret. But you tried to make me think I was crazy to even think he existed! How could you do that to me?” Iris demanded. He knew she was angry, but what killed him was that she sounded hurt, as well.

“I’m sorry,” he replied honestly. Desperately. Afraid he was losing her. “I should have told you the truth a long time ago. You were the first person I wanted to tell! It’s just…Joe was afraid it would put you in danger, and—”

She crossed her arms over her chest, the expression on her face granting him no quarter. “This isn’t about my dad. This is about you. You’re my best friend! You could have told him to go to hell when he told you to lie to me, and you didn’t! Why not? Was it – didn’t you trust me?”

He shook his head, a quick jerk of his neck. “It wasn’t like that,” he tried to explain in a hoarse whisper, his voice filled with regret. “I trust you! I trust you more than anyone!”

His regret was nothing compared to the pain in her voice when she asked in a pleading whisper, “Then why?”

Barry’s gaze dropped to the floor. What could he say to her? How could he explain? He had his reasons, but they all sounded like weak excuses, lies he’d held close to his heart so that he didn’t have to admit to the possibility of one ugly truth: that he’d lied to her about being the Flash for the most selfish of reasons. Because he’d liked the way she looked at the scarlet speedster when she didn’t know Barry Allen was the man beneath the mask.

---

“So, Flash, inquiring minds want to know…how fast can you move, anyway?” she asked, reaching out and snatching one of the fries off his plate. “Not fast enough to stop me from stealing your food, apparently.”

He tried to hide his answering smile. “I’m pretty sure nothing on Earth could stop you from stealing my food. And is this…are you really planning to interview me right now?”

“You said I could!” she replied defensively, stealing another fry. He didn’t argue the point because it was true, he had. He just hadn’t realized she planned to frame it as an actual interview. She probably knew enough about him at this point that she could write her article without asking him a single question.

But she recently had seemed so excited to get into reporting, and he didn’t want to do anything to wipe that smile from her face. So he shrugged instead. “All right, well…I’m not sure how fast I can move, exactly. At least, I don’t know that I’d want your readers to know how fast I can run. I’m worried about people finding out too much about my powers. Might help them find a way to take me down.”

She nodded thoughtfully, making a quick note in the small notepad by her elbow. “Fair enough,” she agreed. “But I can say you’re fast enough to run up the side of buildings, at least.”

He nodded. “Sure,” he agreed. But before she could ask him another question, he got an idea. “Though, really, if you want to know how fast the Flash can run, there’s nothing like experiencing it for yourself.”

Iris’s eyes darted toward his in surprise and confusion. “You mean like…how could I—”

Barry held out his arms, silently offering to carry her. “I don’t know that it’s the kind of thing everyone enjoys, but…want to go on a run with me, Miss West? I’ll get you back here before your fries even have a chance to grow cold. I promise.”

She considered him in silence for a long moment. Finally, however, she stood. “All right,” she agreed, taking a step toward him. He sped away to change into his superhero costume, returning before her foot had made contact with the ground. She came to a stop before him, and his stared into her eyes as he leaned down slowly to lift her into his arms. Their eyes remained locked as she wrapped one arm around his neck, holding on tight. “You ready? If it gets to be too much for you, just let me know and I’ll slow down, okay?”

She nodded, and he realized with pleasure that there was no fear in her eyes. “I’m ready,” she said firmly.

He took off, running as fast as he could, reveling in the power of the speed force as it traveled through his body and moved him faster than any man was meant to travel. As he pushed himself to move faster, faster – wanting, perhaps, to show off for the woman he loved a bit – he kept one eye on her face. The moment it seemed like there might be something wrong, he would stop and make sure she was okay.

But Iris didn’t seem frightened. She didn’t seem unnerved by their speed or the blurring city streets as they raced by. Instead, she laughed, reveling in his abilities almost as much as he did. Holding tightly to him as he ran faster, faster, faster. Not just unafraid but gleeful over the very powers that had brought him such joy amidst the inevitable pain that came with the life he led.

Was it any wonder he loved her?

---

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Iris asked, resting her hand atop the bandage that covered his most recent injury. Her eyes were filled with worry, so he offered her a reassuring smile as he rose gingerly to his feet. The happiness and love he felt when he was near her was strong enough to almost drown out the pain in his side.

“I’m okay,” he told her, a tiny white lie. He took her hand and gave it a quick squeeze. “I heal fast. Anyway, I’ve got to get back out there before anyone else gets hurt.”

“I know,” she agreed with a heavy sigh. “Just…be careful, all right? I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”

His heart swelled at her words, giving him the strength he needed to race into the fray once more.

---

“You do know we can’t just keep doing this forever, right?” she teased him gently, the words coming disjointedly between soft kisses pressed against her lips. “At some point, we have to stop for food, at the very least.”

Barry made a soft sound of disagreement, his lips trailing from her mouth along the curve of her jaw to the soft spot under her hear that made her sigh with pleasure. “Later,” he promised, making her giggle softly at the determined growl of his voice. He’d wanted to hold her like this for years. He  wasn’t quite ready yet to let her go.

---

“Stay with me tonight?” she asked in a soft, shy voice, reaching her hand toward him.

He didn’t need her to ask twice.

---

“You sure you really want me to make an honest man out of you like this?” Iris teased him, curling up against his side as he turned off their bedside light. He placed his hand over hers where it lay against his chest and felt the hard ridge of her engagement band. It made him smile to think that there had been a time he’d thought she would never love him as he loved her.

He smiled at her, though he knew she wasn’t likely to see him in the dark. “I’ve wanted it almost all my life,” he whispered, lifting her hand to press a kiss against her palm. So much had happened in his life that had been strange and unexpected in the years since he’d first developed his powers. There were no doubt untold strange and unexpected things he would face in the years ahead. But he’d face them unflinchingly if he had Iris by his side.

---

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked as she sank onto the couch next to him, flinging her legs over his.

Barry winced, almost wishing she hadn’t asked. His thoughts weren’t exactly ones he was desperate to share. But he couldn’t lie to her, so he said slowly, carefully choosing his words, “I was just thinking…being with me…I haven’t exactly given you the perfect life you deserved, have I? It’s always something with us. Psychic gorillas, evil speedsters from another world, time travel…either that or I’m locking myself into the speed force and leaving you behind, or making you think I’m never coming home, or getting framed for a murder I didn’t commit. And now, with what happened at our wedding…I just can’t help but think one day, you’ll wake up and decide being with me was a mistake. Your life could have been so much easier if you’d fallen in love with someone else.”

“Hey,” she said, waiting until he finally turned his head to meet her eyes. “I never asked for easier, and I certainly didn’t want to fall in love with someone else. I’m not even sure I’d know how to try, since I’m pretty sure I’ve loved you most of my life without realizing it. I don’t care about the gorillas or the time travel or the evil speedsters. I don’t even care about talking sharks in pants! As long as you come home to me every night. That’s all I need for my life to be perfect.”

---

“Do you ever think about the future? About the life you want to have when all this is over?” she asked, leaning against him as they stared out the window at the bustling city below.

“Sometimes, but it’s hard to picture what that will be like,” he admitted. “Except to know that, whatever my life will be like, I’ll never stop wanting you in it.”

---

“How could you not know?” she whispered, curled up in her hospital bed. “I – maybe I’m not being fair. But it wasn’t me. For weeks, it wasn’t me. And you didn’t know.”

Barry’s head fell forward, his shoulders sagging in defeat and despair. “I don’t know,” he whispered. But he would never forgive himself for not realizing the truth sooner. For leaving her in the mirror world alone.

---

“Are you okay? That fight looked pretty bad.” Iris’s voice was soft, concerned, soothing his wounds yet breaking his heart.

His hands shook with the desire to hold her, but he didn’t have the right. Instead, he sighed and sank onto the sofa, where he would be sleeping for the night. As he had the night before and the night before that. It was his own choice – and his own doing. Iris hadn’t asked him to leave their marital bed, but his guilt kept him away. After spending so much time with her mirror counterpart without a shred of suspicion, he didn’t deserve to touch her. Iris deserved better than that.

He didn’t respond right away, so she said his name again, the word a soft question on her lips. “Barry? What is it?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” he lied.

He heard her step up beside the couch and felt the gentle pressure of her hand on his shoulder. “Come to bed.”

He looked up at her in surprise, almost unable to believe his ears. “Iris – you’re sure?” She nodded and he rose slowly to his feet, not wanting to make any sudden movement that might scare her away. She slipped her hand into his, leading him toward the bedroom, but he didn’t follow immediately. Instead, he whispered, “Are we okay?”

She hesitated, and he could see the muscles in her shoulders grow tense for a moment before relaxing again. He heard her sigh, and then she turned to face him. “Not yet,” she admitted, holding his hand tight so that he couldn’t pull away. “But we will be. Anyway, I miss my husband. Come to bed.”

---

“Twins?” Iris asked in amazement, staring at the white and black images on the ultrasound screen. “There has to be some kind of mistake…we can’t be…can we?”

Barry’s astonishment mirrored her own, but the two circles on the screen left no doubt. “Twins,” he breathed. They were going to have twins.

He hoped they took after their mother. Not that he was such a bad person to take after, but…oh, god. What if they both inherited his powers? What age would they kick in? When they were teenagers? Toddlers?

One thing was for sure: He was definitely not prepared.

---

“You understand, don’t you?” Iris asked in a low, pained whisper, wincing when a slight movement pulled at the new stitches in her side. “I have to keep going. It’s important. People deserve to know the truth, and I’m the only reporter out there chasing down this story right now.”

“I know,” he admitted, squeezing her hand in his own. “I can’t ask you to stop, but try to be careful, okay? I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”

---

“Oh my god, would you stop?” she asked on a laugh.

“What?” he replied with false innocence.

Smothering a giggle, she shook her head at him. “I know you’re proud, but you don’t have to start every conversation with, ‘Did I mention my wife just won a Pulitzer?’ you know.”

He nodded gravely in response, but he knew he wouldn’t really be able to help himself. He was proud of her finally getting the recognition she deserved after years of hard work and dedication, and he didn’t care who knew it.

---

“So, Flash, are the rumors true? Are you and Wonder Woman dating?”

Iris’s voice was light and joking, but he scoffed rolled his eyes at her anyway. “Don’t even start. We fight one battle together, and everyone wants to make something of it,” he grumbled, pushing his cowl back off his face.

She laughed. “Don’t even pretend like you aren’t loving this just a little,” she teased him. “It’s okay; we’ve been married a while. It’s gotta be flattering to hear rumors that you’re dating an actual Amazonian princess. I mean, just look at her. Is she as gorgeous up close as she is in her pictures?”

“She doesn’t hold a candle next to you.” When he saw her eyes widen with surprise, he bent down and brushed his lips against hers in a warm kiss.

When the kiss finally broke off, she gazed wistfully up at him, the corners of her mouth twitching with a laugh. “I – you know, flattery looks really good on you. But while I’ve got you in a good mood, how about an interview with your favorite reporter?”

“Anything you want, Mrs. West-Allen. Anything you want.”

---

“This is real? It’s really you?” Iris asked, launching herself into his arms. Barry breathed out a heavy sigh of relief as he held her close. The scene reminded him of one he’d experienced before. But that was long ago, when he was young and strong. Now age and countless battles hung upon him, stooping his shoulders and putting streaks of grey in his hair. His children were grown now, a lifetime of happiness and of regret leaving its mark in the lines upon his face.

“It’s really me,” he reassured her, pressing a hard kiss against her temple. How many years had he lived this way? How many decades had he dedicated to serving the citizens of Central City? How many times had he left Iris in fear of being a widow, rather than a wife?

She would never ask him to give up his life as a superhero. Not for her. But he’d come too close to death one too many times. He’d faced the prospect of leaving Iris alone more times than he could bear. This most recent battle had been close. Too close. He couldn’t take such a risk again.

“I’ve come back to you, Iris, just like I promised. You don’t have to worry anymore. I’m home.”

---

“Stay with me?” Iris asked, her voice weak and thready. “Just a little while longer.”

He lifted her hand, pressing it to his lips. He hated to see her like this, frail and trembling. She was slipping away from him; he figured she had minutes left, if he was lucky. It wasn’t enough time. It would never be enough time. But Barry wasn’t a victim to time the same way as everyone else.

Clutching her hand tightly in his, he vibrated as quickly as he could. He hadn’t moved this fast in years, his connection to the speed force having long since faded. For a moment, he was scared he wouldn’t be able to do it again. But perhaps the speed force was kind. Or perhaps it pitied him. But it did what he asked, one last time. It pulled Iris with him into Flashtime. Giving him a few moments more to say goodbye.

As the world stilled around them, Iris let out a heavy sigh of relief. The pain that had clouded her eyes and etched deep grooves into her face faded, wiping years off her face. Her features were soft and relaxed, and a smile graced her lips. She was at peace.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, resting his cheek against her fingers. But she was. He wouldn’t be able to stop it forever. With her hand still in his, he climbed up into the bed next to her, pulling her gently against him.

She sighed and leaned into him, resting her head upon his chest. “Bar, I want you to promise me something. Promise me you won’t give up when I’m gone. Live the rest of your life. Take care of our family—”

“Iris, no,” he begged, feeling himself tremble as he held her. “It’s not enough. I need more time.”

“We’ll always want more time,” she whispered. “Promise me. Please.”

But how could he make her such a promise? When he lost her, he would lose so much of himself. What would be left of him? He’d loved her almost his entire life; picturing his world without her now was almost impossible to contemplate. It was certainly too terrible to bear. But it was what she wanted, so he would have to try. “I promise,” he said, the word coming out on a small sob.

He could feel her soft smile against his chest. “I won’t really be gone, you know. I’ll just be waiting for you to run home to me. So don’t waste the time you have left with tears.” Giving her hand a small but firm tug, so pulled it away from his, silently asking him to return time to normal and let her go.

He didn’t want to do it. If it was up to him, he’d keep her in Flashtime forever. Slowing each second to an eternity. But she was right; even that wouldn’t be enough. And, anyway, he’d never really been able to deny Iris anything. Not even this.

With reluctance, he stopped his superhuman speed, watching the world around them return to its normal pace. Then he felt her breathe out one last, long sigh as she curled in closer to his warmth.

“We had a hell of a run, didn’t we Bar?” she asked in a voice almost too soft to hear.

He felt her body grow still beside him and no longer tried to hold back his tears as he pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “Yeah, Iris. We did.”

---

“Iris?” he asked as the bright light around him faded, revealing her standing before him, her hand outstretched. Waiting for him to take it. He reached out and placed his palm in hers and she laughed, pulling him closer. She looked as beautiful as she had on their wedding day, so many years before. “Is it really you?”

He’d lived a long life. Most of it was happy, though some of it wasn’t. But now he was an old man, years older than he’d been when he’d held his wife in his arms for the last time. If it hadn’t been for the promise he’d made her, he doubted he would have been able to carry on so long. But it was what she’d asked of him, and so he’d done his best. Until finally, at the end of his life, he raced into the speed force one last time. And he’d found her there, waiting for him.

“It’s me,” she reassured him, giving his hand a quick squeeze. She felt so real, and the teasing gleam in her eyes was just as he remembered it. “I told you’d I’d be waiting for you to run home to me.”

“I promised I always would,” he reminded her, pulling her toward him so he could steal a kiss. It, too, was just like he remembered. “But…how? I thought only speedsters—”

“I was surprised, too,” she admitted. “I guess it’s one last gift from the speed force. I was your lightning rod, after all.”

That made sense, he supposed, though the explanation didn’t really matter. What mattered was she was here. His Iris. He’d been running for so many years; now, finally, at long last, he could stop. He could think of nothing better than spending the rest of eternity in the speed force, with her by his side.

Finally, at long last, he was home.

[nebula-horizon]

Darius wouldn’t deem himself as a rather romantic type, though with an approaching event such as Valentines’ day he couldn’t resist to put out his creativity in some manner and present it to Celeste. The two had a close-knit relationship and their romance was almost unrealistic – With such amount of love he loved the woman of his dreams, It seemed as though he was the prince charming she had read about in fairytales. With a never fading fire in his heart that symbolized his never dying-love. He planned ahead before the event – Paid a visit to the coffee place that Chinara and Aria had worked in among Celeste, though being aware of their individual timetable – he was confident that Celeste would not be present there for the day unless paying visit herself. He requested one of them to call Celeste to have her arrive to the place, mainly in the means to spend time as one of them where close to ending their shift. He would internally calculate the timing and possibly time of arrival, before he left the building momentarily and hide in his car. He could have hid in the coffee place, though with the currently worn attire, he would rather jump the opportunity to close her eyes when he was sure he could sneak up behind her without being hit with a levitating star-stand. A porcelain loose dress shirt that laid against his frame freely, with detailed sewn in markings that followed a diamond form-pattern. With slim-fit charcoal pants that are at waist height – An intentional presentation, to imitate a character from a series she was fond of. He added his own additional touch to fit himself with black, three inch lacquered heels to highlight his height even more so. Tugging lightly onto the collar of his top as a mannerism to display nervousness, he widened his eyes after he caught sight of Celeste from a distance. Shuffling in his drivers’ seat as he would look around the inside of his vehicle, taking hold of a bouquet of flowers with a valentine’s day oriented card tied to it. To add further detail into the said bouquet – He followed the aesthetic of the flowers that would resemble the beauty Celeste found in space – Choosing few galaxy orchids to mesh together with the Casablanca lilies to imitate the pattern of the color scheme of the nebula. Hopping out of his seat promptly after the girl walked closer to the coffee place, sneakily taking his leave away from his car and taking a corner to be left unseen. As Reynas’ hand reached up to the handle of the entrance door, his single hand would reach from her shoulder to cover her vision. Being aware how easily startled she may come to be, he spoke of her name with his gentle tone before holding her in close embrace; kissing the top of her head to calm her momentarily. “My nervous love, you don’t have to fret. I just wanted to greet you with a surprise. Darius would say, before freeing his hand and allowing her to face him. "I wont hesitate to speak of it, but I wish you a lovely Valentine’s day. I do hope the flowers are to your liking – It’s my way of showing that I would like to sweep you off your feet and have you for a date at the beach. Would you say yes to my offer?”

   Looking up from her star char at her phone, she noticed a text from Aria asking if she wanted to hang out after work and if Celeste could meet her at the Cafe. On one hand, she didn’t like the idea of being anywhere NEAR her workplace during a day off AND a holiday like this. However on the other hand, she didn’t have an idea of who to hang out with on Valentine’s day -- why not hang out with her friend? 

   Celeste got up from her office chair, stretching her back and then arms before going to the bathroom to shower and get ready.  Using certain types of hair and body washes to make herself smell like peaches, she felt clean and ready to take on the rest of the day.

   She tried different combinations of shirts, rompers, skirts, and even shorts until she eventually settled on a simple white dress. It wasn’t anything fancy, but she was just going to see her friend anyways. Of course she had to finish off this look with her crystal blue necklace and white hair bow keeping her ponytail up. 

   It was like any other day, only this time she flew high above the clouds so she could play music from her speakers. At some point it began playing soft piano music, allowing Celeste to fantasize for a moment as she was above the clouds. Thinking about how nice it would be to dance with someone right now... Maybe Darius? Ah well at least not today. He didn’t text or call her for valentine’s day which meant he probably had work. It was disappointing, but she couldn’t complain much.

   Landing in an alleyway out of sight, Celeste dusted off her white dress before casually walking out of the shadows. She tried to peek through the wide windows of the cafe to see if Aria was still working, making her way towards the front door and unsuspecting of what was to come. 

   Out of instinct, she almost jumped out of fear when a hand was placed over her vision. Celeste audibly gasped before being brought back down to earth with the sweet and soft sound of Darius’s voice and his arms embracing her close. Now she was starting to put two and two together... Of course her friends were in on this. 

   Celeste turned around, a shy smile on her face as she noticed Darius. She always melted whenever she saw his face -- such a handsome and naturally lovely guy. Was he dressed like Howl too? It almost felt like a dream or a fairytale with the way he strode up to her with gorgeous flowers and dressed like a prince ready to whisk her away. Yet even though Howl was a made up fantasy, Darius was as real and charming as he could be. It was as though he put a spell on her every time without fail so how could she say no now?

   “Darius... I-....” she had to pause to laugh softly. “Of course, I’d love to be your Valentine.”. Celeste took the flowers from him before standing on her toes to plant a kiss on his lips. Letting herself melt even more in his embrace, nothing made more sense or more felt right than when she was with him.

[let-me-write-shit]

Like We Used To: 16

A/N: I’m super excited for the next chapter! Enjoy, and let me know if there’s anything you’d like to see in upcoming chapters. :) <3

[Click here for previous chapters]

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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Jet lag was beginning to hit Elizabeth pretty hard on Monday as she had found herself awake at 3 AM. Luckily because of the time difference it meant that her family and friends were awake. She had decided to facetime Matt and her family for a bit, updating them on the happenings before taking a shower. Since Harry was still sleeping, she used the hall bathroom to avoid waking him, and turned the hot water up as much as she could without burning her skin.

The steam rose to her face, instantly relaxing her as she thought about her two and a half days in LA so far. After leaving the first round of interviews with Harry, Elizabeth had met up with Mitch, Sarah, and Adam who were venturing the streets of downtown LA. No one had recognized them without Harry, so they were able to do a fair share of shopping and got to know Elizabeth a bit more. She felt confident in saying that Mitch and Sarah were going to be very close friends with her, and Adam was so funny and kind. You got a sense of family when you were around him.

Elizabeth was comfortable enough around Mitch to whine that he didn’t warn her about the songs Harry had been writing about her and her friends. She tried prodding him for more details, but he didn’t utter a single hint as to what it was all about. As annoying as that was, she had to commend his loyalty. At least he’d never leak anything to the press. He was a true friend.

She stayed with them for the rest of the day, realizing that she didn’t have a key to Harry’s house, until Harry was done with the interviews and prep for the day. He had picked her up from Sarah and Mitch’s hotel, before taking her back to his house where they made dinner together, watched a few movies, and ended the night with a bang. Luckily the only thing on the agenda for Harry and his band mates was a bit of studio time first thing, then they were free for the rest of the day.

By the time she had finished her shower the sun was finally rising. Elizabeth wrapped the towel around her body tightly as she sauntered back towards Harry’s room to grab her clothes. She was right outside the door when she thought she could hear voices from inside.

“Harry?” She called out, pushing the door open, “Are you awake?” As soon as the door opened she saw Harry sitting up in his bed, shirtless and on the phone. She mouthed a ‘sorry’, quietly heading towards her bag of clothes.

She heard a woman on the other end of the line say, “What was that? Do you have a girl with you? That’s just disgusting, why are you talking on the phone with me when you have a girl over?”

Elizabeth cringed at Harry, unsure of who he was talking to but positive that it was probably awkward. But Harry just laughed, “It’s Lizzy Miller.”

“Lizzy Miller? Who’s ….Wait, LIZZY? From school?”

Elizabeth stopped attempting to search for clothes and stared over at Harry, confused. Who the hell could he be talking to that knows her from her teenage years? Because she had just gotten off the phone with Celeste and Kate, so it couldn’t be them.

Harry chuckled at the caller's response, “Yes, that’s the one! She’s visiting me for the week.”

Elizabeth scoffed and the person on the phone continued to shout excitedly, which made it hard for her to make out what they were saying. Eventually Harry pulled the phone away and looked over at Elizabeth.

“It’s my mom. She wants me to tell you hello and that she misses you loads,” Harry said.

Elizabeth clapped her hands to her chest and melted, “Oh my gosh! I haven’t seen her in ages, how is she?”

She heard more excited muffles before Harry laughed into the phone and said, “Alright mom, I’ll ask her. Yes, I’ll let her know. Alright, I’ll talk to you later. Love you.” before hanging up and smiling, “She wants to have us over for dinner when we get back to England, and she says she won’t take no for an answer.”

Elizabeth giggled, turning back to her clothes, “I miss your mom, she’s always been so sweet.”

“I’m pretty sure she liked you more than me,” Harry laughed, watching Elizabeth pull on her clothes. 

Elizabeth slipped on her a-line green floral dress and paired it with a black belt around the waist, deciding to let her damp hair air dry. She crawled onto the bed and sat criss-crossed next to Harry. 

“Your mom adores you,” Elizabeth said. 

Harry paused for a moment, looking at Elizabeth with a growing smile. “I adore you,” he said admiringly, making Elizabeth blush before continuing, “You look beautiful today.”

Elizabeth grinned at him and crawled closer to him. Harry lifted his arm so that he could wrap it around her as she rested her head on his chest.

“Did you want to come to the studio with me today?”

Sarah frowned, “I’d love to, but I think I’m going to get ahead on some more work so I have more free time later.”

“In that case, can I take you out for dinner tonight? We haven’t had a real first date yet.”

Elizabeth thought for a second before answering, “Can I pick what we do?”

Harry chuckled, “Okay, how about this. I pick where we go to eat, because I know the restaurants around here, but you can pick whatever else we do.”

“Deal!”

Harry groaned, pulling Elizabeth into him as close as she possibly could, nuzzling his nose into her neck and kissing it lightly, “I don’t want to go! I just wanna stay here all day.”

The little kisses he gave on her neck started to tickle and she giggled, trying to squirm out of his grip which started a mini game of pillow fight. Eventually Harry had to get up and dressed before he was extremely late to the studio. 

Elizabeth decided to work outside today since it was such beautiful weather, but it was hard to focus on work knowing that she was in a different country, in Harry’s mansion, with a pool only six feet from her. The only time she set foot inside the house was to use the bathroom, or make herself some lunch, otherwise, her laptop was on her legs in the lounge chair, or she took conference calls while dipping her feet into the pool. Her skin even started to burn a bit from being out in the sun for so long.

Harry’s half-day studio time turned into an all-day session, which worked well in Elizabeth’s favor as it gave her more time to get half of the week’s work done. It was 6 PM by the time Harry got home, walking to the backyard to greet her.

“I’m so sorry we ran over time,” He apologized, “We were getting really deep into new songs and I wanted to start recording them.”

Elizabeth shut her laptop and smiled, “It’s okay, I was good here.”

Harry grinned, thankful that she wasn’t upset, “You ready for dinner?”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna throw on a bit of makeup first, if that’s okay? I won’t be long.”

Within fifteen minutes Elizabeth had some makeup on and Harry had changed into a new pair of clothes and they were out the door. The drive to the city was fun with a lot of dancing to his playlist before they eventually reached their destination at 71 Above, a sky lounge that stood so tall it overlooked the entire city. Elizabeth gawked at the view as they were seated at a semi-private table and were poured two glasses of wine, eventually having their orders taken. 

“Am I underdressed?” Elizabeth asked, self consciously.

Harry chuckled, taking a bite of his food, “No, you’re perfect.”

He talked about his day at the studio, telling her about how excited he was about this new album they were making. He was being pretty vague about the songs themselves, but did mention how it was mostly related towards family and friends with this album which made Elizabeth excited to hear it. Eventually they moved on to talking about his interviews the past two days and how a good 97% of the places he went to asked about the pictures they were caught in together. 

“Normally I’d be pretty upset about it. I don’t like to publicize any kind of relationship I’m in, whether it be romantic or friendly, but I don’t know,” Harry took a sip of his drink, “I’m more worried about how you feel about it.”

Elizabeth swallowed her food, “I just don’t want your publicist to lose her mind trying to control rumors. I mean we’re not dating….”

“She says as we’re on a date,” Harry said sarcastically, shoveling food into his mouth.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and laughed, “It’s not like I’m your girlfriend, so you’re not lying when you say you’re single, but it’s also not like I’m going to be swiping through tinder, either, because now I feel invested in seeing how things go with you.”

Harry smiled, taking in what she said before saying, “We talked about you at the studio today.”

She was about to put food into her mouth before he said that, and paused, mouth agape,  and furrowing her eyebrows. Finally she said, “What about?”

“Well it started with Mitch and Sarah going on about how they really liked you, and then Adam and Ny were giving me a hard time about how I kept referring to you as ‘a friend’, saying that they noticed some ‘not-so-casual’ looks at each other and all this other shit. Then it eventually turned into me telling them about how I liked you as more than a friend and that we were trying to see how things go….” he babbled on.

“So they know we’re not just friends?” Elizabeth asked, earning a hesitant nod from Harry. “Who all knows?”

Harry winced, unsure of how she’d react, “Jeffrey, Lisa, the band, the producer... everyone at the studio.”

Elizabeth sighed, closing her eyes for a second before looking over at him, “And what was their reaction?”

“They were fine! They don’t care if I date someone. Obviously Lisa thinks we just try to keep it as private as possible for our sake, but they all love you so they were fine!”

Elizabeth nodded, trying to hide a smile, “Okay. Well, I guess it’s good that I don’t have to watch what I say or do around them as much. Let’s just continue what we’re doing before we get too deep into this whole ‘relationship’ thing, then.”

Harry pursed his lips and nodded. She didn’t know why she was so set on taking things as slowly as possible with Harry. Elizabeth told herself that it was because she just got out of a very long and serious relationship and she didn’t want to screw it up, but in the back of her mind she knew that she was just scared. It’s been said a million times, but the fact that he’s famous does change a lot. They couldn’t just do normal relationship things. Not when he’s being watched practically 24/7. And it was hard not to compare herself to the other gorgeous girls he’s dated in the industry, people who know how to deal with fame and can relate to him better than she could. I mean his whole entire last album was basically about his love for his ex model girlfriend who broke his heart. How could she compare to a gorgeous French model?

“So how will we be continuing our date?” Harry asked.

Elizabeth smiled, “Oh, it’s a surprise. But it’s going to be a long night, so I hope you’re not too tired.”

KEEP READING

[coffeebooksorme]

Little Firest Everywhere - Celeste Ng  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

The Life and *Medieval) Times of Kit Sweetly - Jamie Pacton  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

Girl Gone Viral - Alisha Rai  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

The Boyfriend Project - Farrah Rachon  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes - Suzanne Collins  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

The Sound of Stars - Alechia Dow  ⭐ ⭐

Beach Read - Emily Henry  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

The Weight of Stars - K. Ancrum  ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐ ⭐

DNF’ED

The Kissing Game - Marie Harte

The Graces - Laura Eve

Fireborne Rosaria Munda 

I think it’s time to admit that I’m in a bit of a reading slump. On any given month I can read 10+ books easily but the April/May I struggled to reach that and this month it just wasn’t happening. Every time I’ve sat to read I’d get distracted or I’d lose interest in what I previously had been enjoying. Granted, 8 books a month is nothing to turn my nose at and I read a LOT of good books this month that I really enjoyed, but I can’t help feeling disappointed that I didn’t get to read/enjoy more.

July isn’t looking too good. Not because I don’t want to read but because I’m starting this month off on leave from work because of severe low back pain that I couldn’t manage at home and had to go to the ER for Monday night. I got diagnosed with DJD and arthritis in my lumbar spine which in turn has flared up my sciatica. I’m only 36 and it’s disheartening because I hate not being able to do what I normally do. I hate hobbling around my house, wincing because shifting positions hurts, or crying because coughing sends lightning shooting through my book. However, the ER docs gave me some meds (broke my narcotic cherry) to help manage it and hopefully I can go back to work Friday night without being in unbearable pain. The only thing that has me worried is my mother divulged to me that DJD is hereditary in her side of the family because when her dad died at (37, not from DJD but from a heart valve problem), he had the bone system of a 70 year old. Needless to say, I need to make some lifestyle changes and get healthier because I do not like being like this and I do not want this to progress any further. 

Also, the hubs and I are buying a house! We’ve been looking on our own for the past year and a half, but we fell in love with one this past weekend so we connected with a realtor, scrambled for a pre-approval letter for finance, and put in an offer. Unfortunately, our offer was passed up but we’ve been viewing some places and we saw one yesterday that blew our minds. It’s on the same side of town we’re in now, 2,000+ square feet, updated everything, decent price, and I would have a shorter commute to work. Both of us love the layout, the style, the storage, EVERYTHING! So...we put an offer on it yesterday afternoon. The seller has until tonight to accept, deny, or counter and I would totally appreciate it if y’all could cross everything you have so that we can have this house because I totally see this as our forever home.

Back to book related things, but @books-and-cookies​ is hosting a Re-Read-A-Thon through the month of July! I have a tentative list of books that I want to reread. Namely, Nevernight, ADSOM, DOSAB, SOC/CK, and the series that shall not be named because its author is a TERF. I had initially planning on just doing rereads this month but I have a handful of new releases/backlist books that I want to read so HOPEFULLY this slump will let up and I can have a good mixture. 

I hope all y’all are doing well, reading good books, staying safe during the pandemic, and treating yourself gently!

[hermankopusortizorsumshite]

PART TWO! SAME WARNINGS: smut, blood, gore ish, and drug abuse. SMUT

She faintly hears the roar of the bikes and she smiles. She was gonna be okay. She could still hear Kozik sobbing in the background when Tig burst through the door. His baby sister lying atop a broken chair, a spindle broken off in her leg, breaking skin on the other side, a lake of blood on the floor, Kozik sitting in it quaking and shivering.

“Christ, someone grab him. Call an ambulance, Juice grab a towel to tie off the leg.” Tig kneels in the sticky blood, caressing her head in his ringed hands.

“Alex.” She whispers, a hand meekly reaching for him only to fall into the blood.

“It’s okay baby. It’s okay.” He whispers, letting Chibs tie the towel as tight as he can to curb the bleeding until the ambulance arrives.

“I’m sorry Celeste.” A soft whisper escapes Kozik’s lips over and over again like a chant.

“Kozik, what happened?” Tig asks as the medical team stabilizes her leg and gets her out of the apartment.

“Kozzie boy, what ‘appened to the girl?” Chibs asks, resting a hand on the man’s shivering shoulder.

“I pushed her. I’m so sorry. Tell her I’m sorry.” He murmurs, sinking back into the pool of blood. Jax and Opie pull him back up, taking him to the shower and washing the blood off him.

A few days pass, Her heart racing when Kozik walks in the room, hands folded at his waist and his eyes on the floor.

“I can’t, Tig.” He turns to leave but her voice stops him.

“It’s been a year, and you haven’t returned my calls, yet you aren’t even going to visit me in the hospital?” She calls. He sniffles.

“I’m sorry, Celeste.” He whispers, heading out of the room.

On the day she’s released Tig greets her at the door. They head out together and he drops her at him apartment.

“You be careful in there.” He calls.

“There’s only two more chairs.” She giggles, heading inside to find him. There’s a needle on the table, freshly used, and no Kozik in sight. “Pretty blue eyes?” She calls. Hearing the bedroom door open, his head appears from down the hall.

“Christ, I’m so sorry. Look at you.” He smiles, grabbing her arms and swinging them wide to get a good look at her.

“You look pretty beat up. You doin’ okay?” She asks, eyeing the table.

“I’m okay. That’s from yesterday. I haven’t shot up today at all.” He nods, proud of himself.

“Aw, sweet boy I’m so proud of you.” She smiles reaching for a hug. With wide arms, her draws her in, hugging her tightly.

“I missed you so much.” He whispers, sniffing back the tears. “I’m sorry I never answered your calls. I’m sorry I let you bleed out on the kitchen floor. I’m sorry for calling you when I should’ve just left you alone.” He gushes, hugging her a little tighter as he buries his nose deep into her neck. She was warm and comfortable and everything he wanted and needed.

“It’s okay. I’m just worried about you, ya know?”

“I know, I’m going to rehab tomorrow. Will you drive me?” He asks, leaning a little ways back. She grins at him and kisses his forehead.

“I’d love to.” She pats his shoulder before heading into the kitchen to find something for them to eat.

The next morning she found him sitting in the living room with a small bag packed and a nervous smile.

“You ready for the best decision of your life?” She asks, patting his shoulders. He stands and pulls her into a hug.

“I love you so much, pretty girl. You literally saved my life.” He cries, his big hand caressing the back of her head and his cheek pressed warmly and gently against hers.

“Not yet I haven’t.” She giggles, pressing a cute little kiss to his cheek and grabbing his hand. “Let’s go, big baby.” She chuckles as she leads him out of the apartment and down to her car.

“Thank you, Celeste. I couldn’t do this without you.” He gives her a serious look. As she walks him to the door of the rehab center, her heart begins to pound. He leans down to kiss her, but she turns her head, his lips landing on her cheek.

“You can give me a non platonic kiss when you’re sober over a year. Got it?” She giggles, poking a finger into his chest. A little defeated, but he nods, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“I love you so much, Celeste. Thank you.” He whispers.

A year passes and she receives a letter in the mail. She was living back in Los Angeles again, with her current boyfriend. Opening the letter, it reads:

Hey you,

It’s officially a year.

Is that kiss still available? Kidding, kidding.

But hey, I joined the marines. It’s going well so far.

Can’t wait to see you again sometime. Maybe I’ll be

Stationed in Los Angeles someday. Anyway, just wondered

How you were doing? I miss you a lot these days.

Really sorry about that heroin phase. Thanks for

Believing in me, pretty girl.

I love you!

Herman Kozik

Tears fall down her cheeks as she reads the letter over and over again.

Her boyfriend peeked over her shoulder to see a Polaroid picture gripped in her fingers, her other hand clasped over her mouth as she sobbed tears of joy.

“Your brother?” He asks with a smile.

“No, my best friend.” She smiles, sniffling as she wipes away the tears.

As the years went by, they lost touch once more.

“Hey! It’s Alex. Uh, you gotta come home. We’re going on lockdown and I need you home.” He informs, and she starts packing immediately. She didn’t question him. She packed her bags and got in her car heading for Teller-Morrow. Upon arrival, she was greeted by Juice and all of her favorites. Jax came over holding a baby and a squeal escapes her as she races to greet him and his little angel.

“Aw Jax!” She coos, grabbing the baby from him and coddling him close to her, grinning at the little dude and cooing little nothings at him. She hands the baby over to the blonde, gripping him in a tight embrace.

“It’s good to have you home. You should consider moving back.” He chuckles, waving his baby in her face like a carrot on a string.

“You’ll have to do better than that to get me to stay here. But that little guy is pretty cute.” She grins, poking the baby’s cheeks and getting a precious laugh.

“Oh shit, here comes Ope and Tig.” Jax warns as Opie comes jogging towards her with two kids and Donna close behind. A bigger grin broke across her face as she jumps into his arms.

“Jax was right. I gotta move home! I’m missing so much!” She cries, a few joyful tears falling down her face as she hugs Donna tightly and introduces herself to their two children. Tig waits impatiently for her to get done.

“You just keep getting prettier.” Tig ruffs, gripping her in a tight hug.

“And you keep getting older.” She croaks, gripping back just as tightly. She’d missed so much of everyone’s lives and it broke her heart. They all had growing kids and beautiful families. She wondered what her life would’ve been like if she and Kozik had stayed.

“Let’s get you inside. Got a few guys you should meet.” Tig huffs as he drags her inside. She meets Happy Lowman, the Tacoma Killer. A tall bald man with lots of tattoos, but an overwhelmingly loving demeanor; at least she thought so.

“You okay with that, Tiggy?” She almost knew that voice. Something about the gravel in it and the sweet ting made her heart skip. Ducking through the crowd to see who the owner was; she finds herself staring at him.

“Yeah, it’s really great.” Tig bites. Kozik got in Tig’s face grinning. “You want a kiss?” He asks, frowning at him. She hid a little while longer, just to be sure the man she was watching was in fact him. Herman Kozik. Pulling the Polaroid from her purse, she compares the man to the photo. The twinkling blue eyes, the same stupid spiky hair; without a doubt. Somehow time had done well by him. He’d gotten a little taller, a little broader in the shoulder, and he’d filled out well; decorating his skin in ink that drew her in. The leather fit tighter on his shoulders, his jaw was straighter and her heart was pounding so hard she could barely hear.

“How the fuck are you two not married?” Gemma asks as she steps up next to the petite Trager girl.

“I-“ she couldn’t say anything. She was too enthralled by his beauty. He wasn’t a nineteen year old kid anymore, and neither was she.

“Go talk to him. He’s got a Polaroid of you in his kutte pocket. Been asking Tig all day when you’d be here. He’s suffered enough.” She chuckles, walking away.

“Christ.” She mutters, shooting tequila before she makes her way towards him. As she got closer, her legs got weaker. How had it happened? Time had sculpted him into a beautiful statue of stone hard muscle and beauty. Finally as she tripped over her own feet, she collides into his back, bracing herself against him.

“Woah!” He chuckles, turning and grabbing her hands. Helping her up, he leads her to the bench seat, grabbing her a beer. “You’re already falling for me and I don’t even know your na—“ His mouth snaps shut. She found herself swooning at the sound of his deeper laid back voice.

“Hey you.” She whispers, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she looks up at him. His beautiful twinkling blue eyes met hers and he was home again. Nineteen years old lying on the beanbag in her bedroom laughing at her getting drunk enough to try dancing. “Are you gonna say something now smooth talker?” She giggles, poking his chest. One thick finger reaches for her chin and lifts her eyes to meet his.

“Celeste?” He asks.

“Herman?” She asks, side-eyeing him with a smirk. In one slick movement, he’s crushing her against his chest, which got wider and stronger. She swore she heard a sniff, but she didn’t care. She hadn’t felt so at home in so long, happy tears streamed down her face.

“Tell me something, Celeste. Is that one year kiss still a thing?” He asks, smirking at her.

“Herman Kozik, if you don’t kiss me right now, I might literally explode.” She giggles, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his lips.

“So what happened to platonic?” He asks, poking at her sides.

“Fuck being platonic. I love you.” She whispers, grabbing a handful of his spiky hair and kissing him harder.

“I love you too. I’ve been waiting for you to come home for so long. Tell me right now that this is just the beginning. Because I saw the way you looked at Jax’s baby. I want that with you. I want it all with you. Be my old lady, Celeste.” He begs, squeezing her hands in his.

“Herman—of course.” She whispers, letting him slide a ring on her finger with a little round diamond atop it.

“Thank Christ.” He heaves, gripping her tightly against him once more.

“Can I show you something?” She asks, unbuttoning her shirt at the table.

“If it involves any more skin showing, no.”

“It doesn’t.” She assures, pulling off her top shirt to reveal a cropped tee and under her breasts, the wings spread to cup her breasts, was his crow. ‘Herman Kozik’ written across her ribs.

“How long have you had this babe?” He coos, his fingers running delicately over the ink, tears filling his eyes.

“I got it for your one year.” She murmurs, shyly pushing her shirt back down.

“You did this for me?” He hushes, his hands snaking around her back and sliding her into his lap. His hands rest in the small of her back, his face pressed against hers. “Did you say if I don’t kiss you you might literally explode?” He asks. She nods, giving him a knowing smile. “You sly little girl.” He whispers, kissing the sensitive skin under her ear. “Don’t kiss me, or it won’t be platonic. We were scared of a word I didn’t even know the meaning to.” He laughs.

“You don’t know what it means?” She asks, mockingly offended.

“Not a clue, but at nineteen, I figured it was bad.” He laughs.

“Platonic. Non sexual.” She cackles, tipping her head back. He took advantage, his lips meeting the smooth skin of her throat.

“Non sexual. Jesus Christ. We were fucking, and I couldn’t kiss you, because it would be non-platonic. Let’s try this again, ya know, non-platonically.” He huffs in her ear, scooping her up and making his way to the room they shared at nineteen.

“Herman, I love you so much. I love you.” She whispers, kissing his chin and cheeks and nose.

“I take it you missed me.”

“I wanna see just how many tattoos you’ve gotten since we turned nineteen.” She croons seductively in his ear. Removing his clothes as fast as possible, she takes in the ink decorating his perfect skin. The S O A’ that donned his chest, her fingertips brushing over it as her lips meet his smooth chest, kissing the letters.

“Christ baby.” He huffs, fingers tangling in her hair.

“Don’t kiss me.” She warns with a dangerously sweet smile. He growls, taking her down onto the bed, his lips meeting hers in fit of heat and desire.

“Babygirl, I’m gonna kiss you so much, you’ll get sick of it.” He growls low in her ear, and just like when they were young, she arched against his body and it drove him crazy. With his eyes locked on hers, he watched the moment he slid fully into her, like a movie on her face. First her eyes grew wide, but then her lip was being bitten and her head rolled back eyes closed. He ground hard against her, and she loved it. Stopping his thrusts, she turns over on her tummy, sticking her ass in the air and pressing her head down. his tongue passing over his lips before he slides back into her at a new angle, he reaches down, grabbing a handful of her hair at the base of her neck as she bounced her ass back against him.

“Herman Kozik.” She whines as they get closer and higher. He reaches around her bouncing hips and fingers find her sweet spot, flicking and rubbing the sensitive nub, pushing her over the edge and watching them both fall into bliss.

“Christ. That was better than I ever pictured it.” He breathes, pulling the sheet up over the two of them.

“You imagined it?” She asks with a giggle, her fingertip lightly tracing the letters on his chest and neck.

“Babygirl, I thought about you under me way more than I’d like to admit.” He chuckles, kissing her lips lazily before pulling her back against his bare body.

[suitov]

Komaegi Week: Garden

“I’m sorry it’s not a normal kind of date.  I just remembered I’d agreed to help Shikiba and I didn’t want to cancel on you outright...”

“For all the experience I have, this could be a completely normal date!” said Nagito cheerfully.

“But do you know what Celeste said when I told her?  She said ‘Well, I wouldn’t trust you pair of submissive lambikins around any kind of tools’...”  Makoto unlocked the garden shed.  “But then I asked if she meant she wanted to come help, and she said ‘That’s what I have men for, dear’.  Like, make up your mind!”

“It’s not as though we’re doing anything dangerous,” said Nagito, picking up a trowel and giving it an uncertain heft.

“He even labelled them for us, he said.”  Sure enough, Makoto found the small sack marked Early Onions without difficulty.

Nagito had found some gardening gloves; he handed Makoto a second pair.  See, they were off to a great start!

“All right.  He said it’s this bed over here, the one under the cherry tree…”

Nagito followed him with the rest of the gear, sparing the tree a wry look.  It was bare, of course, being February.  No blossoms for Makoto’s birthday.  But maybe there would be for Nagito’s!  He could take Nagito to look at them.  Yes, they’d go together and they’d hold hands—Nagito would finally agree to let people see they were dating, he’d realise he was worthy of Makoto—better yet, he’d realise there was no such thing as worthy, and then maybe… maybe they’d kiss!  In front of the trees and everyone!  Now there was a hopeful thought.

Makoto tripped over his feet in excitement and planted his face in the bare earth.

“Are you inspecting the beds personally?” asked Nagito with all that subtle irony he displayed sometimes.

“Yeah, something like that.”  Makoto picked himself off, brushed off his nose and the knees of his uniform pants—on reflection, he should’ve done like Nagito had and changed into something more casual before heading off to grub around in the dirt.  He’d been too excited to think about details.  Cute guy and all that.

Nagito smoothly folded his long legs into a kneel.  “Ah… Shikiba really didn’t leave much to chance.”  He held up a hand-drawn diagram of a bulb, tiny feathery roots and all, firmly labelled PLANT THIS END DOWN.

They set to work.

“I guess everyone thinks we’re that hopeless,” said Makoto with a rueful grin.

Nagito’s laugh was gentle, as if apologising for its audibility.  Makoto wanted to hear it more often.  “Then they’re wrong.  It’s never hopeless with Makoto around.  By definition.”

“Are you talking about—ah, Nagito, you know Ultimate Hope is just a nickname my classmates came up with!  Now I think about it, it must have been after I tried cheering Toko up one too many times…”

“That many Ultimates can’t be wrong, that’s what I always say,” said Nagito, who was capable of digging in his heels on certain topics every bit as effectively as he was currently digging in the onion bulbs.

Makoto stuck out his tongue, but he continued in Nagito’s wake, patting down the soil and giving the bulbs their first watering-can baths.

It looked as though, in spite of certain people’s expectations, their task would soon be finished without any disasters at all.

“I wonder how long until we see them growing,” said Makoto.  Dim recollections arose of the time he’d planted an acorn and checked back hourly on its progress, before running to his mother at dinner time in tears because it hadn’t become a tree.  Hey, he’d been five, all right?!

“Assuming my accursed presence hasn’t poisoned them somehow,” Nagito offered cheerfully.  “Knowing my luck, they’ll all wither and the soil will go completely barren, or they’ll grow into homicidal monsters, or…”

“Or,” said Makoto, before the ball of hypothetical horrors could really get rolling, “what if it’s good luck instead, and they all grow big and beautiful and tasty in stir fries?”

“Oh, no, I think I’ve already identified the good luck in this situation,” said Nagito with hooded eyes.

“Really?  What’s th— Nagito, why’s your bag glowing?”

Nagito followed his eyes.  He took off his gloves and opened his book bag.  “Ah...” he said.

Makoto realised what it was just before Nagito produced his wand.  The weird, dark metal wand, one of the pair they’d found by accident while out walking together.  Glowing, which was why they’d originally seen them, but hadn’t happened since then.

“Do you think it senses danger?”

Makoto picked up his own backpack.

“Ha!  So you don’t want to be far from yours either?”

“I feel all uneasy and lonely if I get too far away from it, a little like when I’m away from… um, from home,” Makoto quick-thinkingly unadmitted. Ha, and to think Kyoko had called him an open book!  “But mine isn’t glowing, look, so either it doesn’t mean that or… heehee… I’m the threat.”

Nagito gasped dutifully at Makoto’s fierce face and intimidating flex.  But he did grin a little.  “If I ever find the Ultimate Hope is my adversary, I’m switching sides.”

Makoto zipped his backpack up again.  “So maybe yours wants you to transform.  You could try it.”

“I don’t even know how it happened the first time.  Do you?”

“Um, no.” Makoto frowned and touched his chin with a knuckle, a gesture he’d unconsciously picked up from Nagito.  “Maybe wave it around?  Twirl with it?  Is there a magic word written on it…?”

“No, no and no,” said Nagito dizzily.  “I don’t even think I was thinking anything special that first time.  All I remember was—um, well, that surely wasn’t it.”

Makoto leaned forward like a puppy seeing a ball.  “What?  What?”

“Oh, nothing… um.”  Nagito squirmed.  “I was just feeling very… extremely ga—”

It happened immediately.  Nagito’s formerly quivering fingers clamped firmly around the wand and he struck an unlikely pose, spine bent such that somehow his chest and his rear were in view at once.  Blood-red ribbons of light spilled out and cocooned him.  Makoto even thought he heard a faint theme song.

Nagito’s high heels touched the ground again.  He looked down and smoothed his slinky red cocktail dress.

Makoto choked on a giggle.  At the questioning look, he said, “They’re back…”

“What are—oh no.”  Nagito reached up and tugged at one fuzzy cat ear. “Magical girl and catboy now?  How is this reasonable?”

“I don’t know about reasonable, but it’s cute.”

“Yes, but we didn’t even turn into cats… dog… animal people on the same day—they were completely separate incidents!”

“Maybe your magic wand found it cute too.”

Nagito’s fluffy white tail lashed.  He started to lick a hand, then thrust it embarrassedly behind his back.  “And what was even the point of this?” he demanded of the magic wand.

“Ooh…” said Makoto.

“…just trying to have a normal date with a very adorable boy and you go around glowing and, and giving people hairy ears willy-nilly…”

“Um…” said Makoto, who was all squeaky inside after being described as very adorable.

“…appreciate some idea of what you want me to do here.  I mean, magical girl powers aren’t exactly something the guidance counsellor can help with, and I’ve asked her…”

“Nagito, look!”

“…said it wasn’t even the weirdest thing she’s been asked by a student at this school, which is saying somethi—yes, Makoto?”

Makoto mutely pointed.

“…oh,” said Nagito, accurately.

The onions were growing.

The onions were growing big…

“Nyaow!” Nagito hissed and swiped his wand at a waist-high bundle of leaves.  The leaves took no notice, neither to attack him nor to quail away from his indignant hiss.  The bulb at the base of those leaves, half submerged in soil, was massive, more like the size of a pumpkin.

The onions stopped growing with a self-satisfied chlorophyllic creak.

“Uh,” said Makoto.

“…Yeah,” said Nagito, slinking farther away from the garden bed before anything else could happen.

“So that was…”

“It sure was…”

“Do you think that’s your magic power?  Nagito, that’s such a cool power! They’re blooming like crazy!”

“I don’t think onions bloom, do they?”

“I have no idea, but I’m pretty sure they don’t normally do that, either.”

They stared at the vegetable garden a little more.  Then, both at once, they started laughing.

“Onions, right? Pungent and making people cry.  Perfect imagery for me!”

“Nooooo, onions are good!  They’re good in cooking, they give things flavour, and… they have like, circles.  What’s the word?  Like layers!  They’re complicated, just like you!”

“You think I’m good?”  Makoto realised Nagito had stopped laughing.

“Yes, silly catboy, I think you’re very good.”  He stuck out his tongue, just to be extra convincing.

Nagito wordlessly reached out and brushed a petal out of his hair.

“And I’m not sorry we’re dating, even if weird stuff like this happens every time.”  A falling petal tickled his nose.  He rubbed it with the back of his gardening glove.  “At least I get to experience the weird stuff with you.”

Nagito shuffled his feet.  Or maybe he was just trying to keep the heels from sinking into the grass.  He rubbed the back of his neck, trailing the red veils that formed part of his distractingly alluring outfit.  They looked kind of nice, spangled with pink petals.

“Wait a minute,” said Makoto, looking up.

At the riotously blossoming cherry tree.

They gawped at each other, framed in falling flowers.  Then one of them reached for the other’s hand, and later on neither remembered who it had been.

They did remember the kisses, though.  So it was a pretty good date after all.

[svucarisiaddict]

hi! 💖 could you do one where the reader and nick are married and they found out she’s pregnant again and they have to decide how to break the news to their other kiddos? thanks !! i really appreciate your work :)

“You doing okay?” Nick asked as he placed a cold cloth on your neck. His other hand made small, soothing circles on your back

All you could muster was a groan in response. After a couple of minutes your stomach settled enough for you to lift your head. “I don’t remember being this sick with the other three,” you grumbled. 

 Nick nodded. “Yeah. Well, you are a little old-” 

“Don’t you finish that sentence, Nicolas,” you warned. 

 He held his hands up and smirked. “All I’m saying is we’re not exactly young anymore.”

 “Speak for yourself,” you replied pushing up from the edge of the tub. “Have you told anyone?” you asked placing the wet cloth over the shower rod to dry. “No. Thought we should tell the kids first then our parents.” Nick followed you from the bathroom out into the kitchen. 

 “Are you still sick, Mommy?” your youngest Celeste, who was six, asked. 

 “I’ll feel better soon I’m sure.” You and Nick exchanged looks. “What time is your game, Zach?’ 

“3 o’clock,” Zach answered. At 12 your son was the same height as you, and he had the potential to be taller than Nick. “I need to be there early though to warm up. I’m starting pitcher today.” He shoveled another spoon of cereal in his mouth. 

 Nick put a mug of coffee in front of you. “Maybe after we can get pizza,” Nick suggested. As soon as the aroma hit your nostrils you felt your stomach churn. Looking up at Nick you shook your head. He quickly picked the mug up and dumped it in the sink. “Sorry, babe. How about some ginger root tea instead?” 

“That would be great,” you said. 

“Can we get Antonio’s pizza?” Wesley, your nine year old asked. 

 The other two chimed in with their approval and began chattering while eating their breakfast.

 “Antonio’s it is,” you said trying to push through the nausea. 

 Nick handed off the tea to you then kissed the top of your head. “Think this is a good time?” he whispered in your ear.

 “As good of a time as any.” Nick pulled the chair out beside and sat. “Alright. Guys, family meeting.” 

Zach groaned. “This is hardly ever good news.” 

Nick shot him a warning look. “What we have to say will change all our lives.” “Are you getting a divorce?” Wesley asked in a panicked voice. He rushed over flinging his arms around you.

 Zach's eyes grew big as he glanced between you and Nick.

 “No. Not even close. Why would you think that?” You pulled him into a big hug. “Tommy parents had a meeting and they said they were getting a divorce,” he said softly. 

Nick rubbed his back. “Hey, buddy. I and Mommy are not ever getting a divorce. We love each other very much.” 

You pulled Wesley into his lap and kissed his dark curls. “I’m going to have another baby,” you announced cheerfully. 

Zach was the first to say something. “So this baby is an accident? Just like these two.” 

Nick took a deep breath. “Zach, I don’t appreciate your attitude today. You can go to your room.” 

He scraped the chair over the wooden floor and stalked to his room where he slammed the door closed.

 “Mommy, was I an accident?” Celeste asked.

 “C’mere,” Nick said. She jumped from her seat and into Nick’s arms. 

“All of you were surprises.” 

“The best surprises,” you concluded. 

 “What’s the difference?” Wesley asked. 

Nick grinned. “Well, an accident is if you had it to do over again you wouldn’t. A surprise is not knowing you wanted something until you got it.” 

Wesley furrowed his brow. “Kinda like a present?” 

“Exactly like a present. The most wonderful presents I’ve ever received,” you said. 

Celeste smiled big. “Imma be a big sister? Can it be a little sister?” 

Both of you chuckled. “Can’t pick if it’s a boy or girl. Guess it will be a surprise.” You winked at Nick. 

“Okay, missy. Finish your breakfast.” Celeste returned to her food. “I’m going to talk to Zach,” he stated. 

“No. I’ll do it,” you said. You sat Wes on his feet then stood. When you reached Zach’s room you knocked. “It’s Mom. Can I come in?” 

“Sure,” Zach answered in a muted voice. He was lying on his bed throwing his baseball in the air. As you surveyed his room you realized it wasn’t a kids room anymore. It was morphing into a typical teen room. 

“Wanna talk about it?” you asked. Pushing clothes over you made a spot to sit on his bed. 

He was quiet. The only sound was the smack of the ball as it hit the leather mitt. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders. “It’s just...what if you don’t have time for me? You’re already so busy that I hardly see you or Dad.” 

Ouch. He was feeling neglected. That was something you never wanted to hear from one of your children. It made you feel like a failure as a Mom. “I’m sorry, Zach. I never meant for you to feel like that. How long has this been going on?” 

Another shoulder shrug was your answer. “Another baby means you’ll have even less time for me.”

 “Zach, look at me.” He paused tossing the ball turning his deep brown eyes to you. It was like looking into Nick’s. “You were my first baby. You taught me, unconditional love. The first time I held you I knew exactly why I was put on Earth. To be a Mommy. To be your Mommy.” 

Zach sat upright. “How do you have enough love for all of us?” 

“A mother’s love knows no bounds. I’d go through Hell with you. And I did. A 20 hour labor. Weighed almost nine pounds.” 

Zach smiled. “Will you still make it to all my games.”

 “Cross my heart. I tell ya what. How about me and you have a movie night or dinner or something every week just me and you,” you suggested.

 “Yeah. Okay.” He gave you a hug which you relished. “I’m sorry about the things I said.”

 “I know. I am too. From here on out we talk about things that are bothering us. Deal?” 

He nodded his head. “Okay.” 

 You stood up and started leaving the room. “Love you kid.” 

“Love you too, Mom.” 

Nick was waiting out in the hall listening to the whole conversation no doubt when you came out. “Well I feel about two inches tall,” he said. 

 “Nothing like your 12-year old giving you a reality check.” You took his hand leading him down the hall. “So, we going to tell your Mom this evening?” “Celeste already told her. She answered the phone with ‘Abuela Imma be a big sister.’ I could hear my Mom in the background. She is very pleased,” Nick informed you.

 “Good. Now to keep it a secret for a couple more months, hopefully.” 

 “That may be a challenge with Lil Miss Informant,” Nick teased. 

You smiled as you thought about Nick, the kids and the new life growing inside you. Your life couldn’t get any better.

[cela-astral-projection]

We'll laugh how things have changed You never dreamed we'd end up this way But I dreamed about it every day

18+ Under the cut. We’re still in Nopal! 

The sirens call to idleness had long since faded. Celeste was up before dawn. The stars were still sparkling in the sky, but it was lightening, just ever so slightly. Muriel had stirred when she got up, and she had coaxed him back asleep, stroking his hair until he began to snore.

She wanted terribly to be whined at, to feed a chicken, take a wolf out for a run, have a snake criticize her cooking technique, tell a doctor that leeches were, not, in fact, a cure-all. She wasn't used to peace and quiet. The novelty had worn off.

They had effectively whined Asra into submission, and he was coming today. By himself. The girls would come later with Aisha and Salim. She didn't know how they'd quite manage seven people, even if the grandparents would only stay a day or so. But, magic covers a multitude of sins. Between Asra and herself, they'd figure something out.

She was in the back garden. It might have been Asra's retreat before, but she had made her mark on it. Every year, commissioning a new feature. Building on the garden, laying new paths. Putting in a pergola with a swing. A fire pit. A place for the girls to play.

It was still chilly. The desert, scorching hot in the day and freezing at night. Thankfully, it was a rather temperate night. She could stand to be outside in a pair of thin trousers and a sheer linen top.

She had thrown one of Muriel's furs on, eating her own words when she had chided him for bringing the hulking thing to the damn desert. It was easy to forget just how cold it could be. But, she also hated clothes in general, so she tended to tolerate the cold simply out of spite for having to dress appropriately.

She found a clear spot between flowerbeds and laid the fur down on the ground. She just needed to move her body, get out of her head. She stepped onto the material. Her feet were bare. The old fur was soft beneath her toes. Slick. Not an ideal surface for stretching, but, any port in a storm.

She lay on her back, staring up at the sky. She drew one knee up, and then crossed her other leg over the top, stretching out her hips. She regulated her breaths, holding the pose until she really felt the stretch burning through her thigh and into her back. She repeated it on the other side.

She took a good long time, shifting from pose to pose. Bending, pulling, extending. The sun was rising over the horizon now, and she could feel the warm tendrils pouring across the land. She also knew she was being watched. It had been foolish to think she could leave Muriel to sleep on his own for long. Maybe she wanted to be watched. Either way, he was no great mystery to her.

She was stretching her back and hips, ass well up in the air, hands on the ground. She had her eyes closed but felt the chill when his long shadow stepped into the morning light, blocking her from the sun. He grabbed her by the hips, pulling her back against him.

"Why are you stretching like you're getting ready to spar?" He asked. His voice was husky. She could almost chalk it up to being half awake. But, the way he pressed against her let her knew that he must not be that tired.

She made to stand up, but he placed his hand on the small of her back, keeping her in place.  There was really no mistaking what he wanted.  She turned her head as best she could, looking at him from the corner of her eye. "You wanna spar, old man?"

That sobered him a bit. He pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, amused and irritated all at once. "Old man? You are pressing your luck." He ran his fingers along her spine, below her shirt. Her skin was cold.

And his was a fucking furnace. It tingled and burned against the chill that clung to her skin. She shivered under the touch involuntarily. She swallowed hard but teased further, shifting her weight backward to press against his stiffening cock, straining against his threadbare sleeping trousers. "Oh, I think I could take you."

"Oh, you do?" he implored, incredulous, drinking her in. She had clearly stolen that shirt from Asra. It was low cut and gauzy. Sheer, and only more transparent as the morning light had crawled across her body. He could see the outlines of her breasts. Her nipples hard in the cool morning air, dark, and straining against the fabric. Every exquisite curve. The dark thatch of curls between her thighs thinly veiled. And that was what he could see from the fucking window. Now, that he was close, the ensemble was truly indecent. Thank the gods there wasn't another soul for miles. "I'm not sure that I'd call names, out here stretching, you old crone. Did you really need to limber up for Asra and I, Cela?"

Instead of pushing back, she dropped to her stomach, away from his touch, then rolled onto her back, all one fluid motion. Staring up at him. Muriel blinked. Didn't see that coming.

She folded her arms behind her head, and she trailed a foot up the inside of his thigh. Dangerously close to his cock. The corner of her mouth was turned up. She conjured an old voice. One he'd remember for the rest of his life. "How do you expect to fight Celeste like that?"

Muriel flinched. He hated it when she did that. Celeste had a knack for mimicry. That was Morga. Her green eyes even flashed yellow for a second. He wasn't sure if it was magic, or something else. For an instant, he was back there, on the night Morga had forced them to spar. The night he'd run, and that Celeste found him. The night Celeste had freed him from his bonds. It was an onslaught of emotions all at once and it sent him reeling for a moment.

Celeste didn't back down. Her eyes raked up his massive form, appraising him. He was softer in the middle than he once was. So was she. But, there was no doubt in her mind that he was every ounce as quick and strong as he ever had been. The light stroked across the old, silvery scars that marked him. His skin was gorgeous and warm.

He hadn't shaved for a few days, and his stubble was giving way to the ghost of a beard. He didn't wear one often, but when he did, it was all she could manage to keep her hands off him. And it was worse now that the whisps of silver had begun to creep into the thick, dark hair. After all this time, he would think she wanted him less. No. She was as ravenous as ever.

And, he was much more confident in his touch. He knew he didn't have to be gentle with her. That she wouldn't break. He loved the tenderness, but the idea that he didn't have to be so cautious and gentle with her, and could just let go of his apprehension? He would never have imagined he could feel like this.

He grabbed her ankle, and Celeste startled, making a noise of panic. She turned back over onto her stomach, making a feeble attempt at escape, but he was already hauling her up, dangling her upside down. He had nearly two feet on her five-foot flat frame. She wasn't sure what she had expected.

She awkwardly crossed her arms across her chest. A difficult feat while hanging upside down, she found. "Fine. You win." She said, pouting. But then, she was eye level with his still-half-hard cock...

"Nope," he said flatly, knowing precisely where her mind was going.

"You really are no fun," she shot back.

He awkwardly hauled her over his shoulder, her legs dangling down his back. She went limp, dead weight. He gave a snort of a laugh. "You are the worst sparring partner." He said, bending over to collect his fur from the ground. "Throwing my stuff in the damn dirt." He draped it over his arm and turned back to the house.

There, standing at the edge of the garden, was Asra, looking thoroughly amused.

"Hello," Muriel said, not entirely surprised by his sudden appearance. It seemed to be just about standard.

"Hello?" Celeste questioned, perking up. Her hair had fallen like a ridiculous curtain. She couldn't see a damn thing.

"Good morning!" Asra said, laughing.

"Asra!" Celeste said, using whatever core strength she could muster to escape Muriel's grasp. Her sudden movement setting him slightly off balance.

"I'm putting you down!" Muriel growled, but there was no malice in it. He leaned over to set her on the ground.

Celeste rushed into Asra's arms as soon as her feet hit the dirt, knocking his hat off as she crashed into him, kissing him over and over again. Asra laughed, holding her face in his hands, stilling her so he could catch her mouth and kiss her soundly.

"Throwing your things in the dirt, too,"  Muriel said, crossing to them. He wrapped an arm around the both of them, waiting patiently for his turn. When Celeste relinquished Asra's lips, he bent to catch them. Celeste rested her head on Asra's shoulder, smiling up at the two of them.

When they parted, Muriel murmured a quiet "We missed you." against his mouth.

Asra looked longingly into his eyes, bringing a hand up to brush across his jaw, though the wiry hair of his beard, hooking a finger under his chin. "Oh, and I missed you," he replied, his voice strained. He drew him back down for another kiss. Long, and slow.

Muriel pressed into Celeste's back. Celeste's hands smoothed up and down Asra's back. She moved her mouth to his neck, pressing her tongue flat against the skin, then her lips, suckling at the cool flesh. Asra made a quiet noise, and the sensation of it rippling through his throat, vibrating against her mouth.

Asra pulled away from Muriel. "Inside." He said, clipped. Muriel had him by the wrist, striding off. Asra grabbed for Celeste's hand, and she snapped the hat up as they dragged her along behind.

Muriel -- mostly undressed anyway, made quick work of his trousers as soon as they crossed the threshold. Asra threw his bag in the corner and shed his shirt, scarves and other accouterments. Celeste was behind Asra, arms around his waist, undoing his belt, her chin over his shoulder, whispering in his ear. Asra nodded along. She was being preformative, her tongue snaking out across Asra's earlobe as she spoke. So quiet, like a hiss.

Muriel took himself in hand, watching the two of them. He knew what they were doing. Playing both ends against the middle. Making a game plan. Celeste's eyes were locked with his, lust-filled. The whispers he could make out sounded filthy. Asra's eyes were on him, too. Years ago, he would have blushed so hard it would have burned him to his core. Now, the hungry look on their faces spurred him on. He stroked his cock, anticipating what was to come.

Asra kicked off his shoes. Celeste knelt behind him slowly, disappearing from Muriel's view. She assisted with the removal of his trousers, teasingly slow. She stayed on her knees, and Asra departed from her to Muriel. He placed a hand in the middle of his chest, pushing him towards the bed. Muriel sat, heavy, gathering Asra into him. Asra straddled him, gaining leverage.

It was one of Celeste's favorite sights. That mix of tenderness and passion. Muriel's dark hair, the darkness around his eyes. So big, heavy. Marred but still utterly gorgeous. Asra's pearlescent locks, his perfect, lithe frame, coppery skin. When they were locked together, her breath caught in her chest. They were fucking artwork.

Asra's fingers moved through Muriel's hair, tangling in, pulling his head back so he could kiss him deeply, his other hand at the base of his throat, snaking his nails down his chest. One of Muriel's hands was at Asra's hip, the other running up his spine. Muriel could feel Asra's cock swelling against his stomach.

Celeste stood and moved to the head of the bed. She knelt on the mattress, reaching over to the shelving on the far side. She found the little jar. A thick cream that turned to a slick oil when it warmed. She reclined against the pillows, still dressed. She enjoyed watching it. She would have her turn, of course. But, this would be enough. The fact she was lucky enough to be here for it never ceased to amaze her.

Asra released Muriel's mouth. "Move back." He commanded, and Muriel did as he was told, moving to the center of the bed, Asra following after. Asra extended his hand to Celeste, not looking away from Muriel. She uncapped the jar and handed it to him. He scooped some into his palm. It was firm. He handed the jar back to Celeste, and she put it away. He rubbed the cream between his palms until it loosened, and then he reached down to slick his own cock with it. "On your knees." He said, low. Muriel, again, obliged, turning under Asra, to face Celeste, on his hands and knees.

Celeste shook her head and placed her foot on his shoulder, pushing him up. Muriel perked an eyebrow, confused.  "On your knees. Follow instructions, love." Muriel pushed himself up.

Asra stroked himself. "What we've decided is that you are going to fuck her throat, while I fuck you."

Muriel blinked at Celeste. That was a party trick she didn't pull out often. "Feeling ambitious, are you?" He said, playfully.

"I told you, I think I can take you. One way or another." She retorted, then licked her lips. "Are we all agreed?"

Muriel nodded. Celeste slid down onto the mountain of pillows. Making sure there was one braced against the headboard. She had played this game before, and ended up with the top of her head bruised from being bounced against the wooden frame a time too many.

Muriel moved above Celeste, straddling her chest. His cock at her lips. She ventured her tongue out, swirling it around the tip. He closed his eyes.

Asra closed the gap behind Muriel. His hands were still warm and slick with oil. He didn't know what Celeste made this stuff from, but it was amazing. He gripped one of Muriel's hips and moved his other hand along the cleft of Muriel's ass, finding his hole. He slicked his finger around the rim, and Muriel pressed back against him. He eased a finger in, slowly. Muriel shuddered, taking a shaky breath.

Celeste raised her hand to Muriel's cock, her fingers circling the base, drawing him back towards her. "Lean on the windowsill, love. He'll follow you. You come to me."

The two of them shifted forward, and Celeste took Muriel's cock into her mouth. She hollowed her cheeks, suctioning her lips around the head. She moved her hand along the length. It would be easier, once Asra was taking him. They'd fall into a rhythm. This part was mostly about keeping him hard until Asra could start to fuck him in earnest. She flicked her tongue around the head of his cock.

Asra slid his finger in and out of Muriel's ass, slow. His other hand smoothing up his back, soothing him, relaxing him.

Muriel hissed. He felt like there were tiny bolts of lightning running through him. Too slow. "Fuck's sake, Asra," he swore, low.

Asra rolled his eyes, and bit out a "Fine."

Like Celeste always said. Magic covers a multitude of sins. Like, an impatient husband who doesn't have the time to be properly prepped because his wife went and got him riled up at the crack of dawn.

Asra closed his eyes, focusing his magic on not causing any undue injury, and guided his cock into Muriel's hole. Muriel breathed a sigh of relief.

Slowly, Asra began to rock into him. Muriel's arms were crossed on the windowsill, his forehead pressed against his forearms, looking down on his wife, dutifully sucking at his cock. Her beautiful brown hair splayed out around her like a halo. His husband behind him, sliding his long, willowy cock into his tight hole.

As Asra gained speed, and Muriel found his rhythm, fucking Celeste's mouth. Shallow at first, then, she relaxed, taking him deeper, mouth still tightly wrapped around the shaft, sucking him in.

Muriel was fevered, but he could tell she wasn't moving. She generally touched herself. She was still dressed. She was just allowing him to fuck her like this, but not touching herself. Her hands had found his hips, and Asra's were covering hers.

"Cela, touch yourself," he whispered, trying to inspire her to action. She simply stared up at him, but there was a playful glint in her eyes. He didn't understand.

"Don't worry about us, dear heart," Asra said, breathy, between thrusts. "We have this under control."

"What the hell...?" Muriel said, still concerned.

But Celeste's face...looked orgasmic. Her cheeks were flushed, as was her chest that he could see in the deep v of the tunic. Her eyes were heavy-lidded. He could smell her want. She was getting off. He felt the pulsating at his hips, their joined hands.

Asra was sharing the sensation with her. The feeling of Asra's cock in his ass. The feeling of his building orgasm.

Celeste felt heat coiling and building in her stomach. It felt...different. Like, pressure. Tension. Restraint. Her cunt was wet. She pressed her thighs together, trying to fight for an orgasm. She felt like she was just on the brink, but Asra hadn't come yet, and she couldn't come either. She knew Muriel was close. His movements were slowing, his thrusts deeper, shakier. She felt the thick vein on the underside of his cock pulsating.

Her nails bit into his hips, pulling him in deeper. Such a big cock. She was grateful to her years of practice. She could take every inch, and easily. She loved his cock in her mouth. She loved when he watched her take his cock in her mouth.

Such a pretty mouth. Such soft lips. Such perfect teeth. A soft, pink tongue. So hot. So wet. So attentive. Perfect pressure. Perfect suction.

Asra's mouth was at his ear, nipping, licking. "Are you going to come for us, Muriel? Are you going to make her swallow your come? She'll swallow every drop. Just like she always does. She loves the taste of your come. Give it to her."

Muriel gritted his teeth. He seized, and he did spill into her mouth. She drank him greedily, still locked onto him. Each spurt dripping down her throat, thick.

When Muriel's asshole clenched around his cock, Asra cried out and fell forward, his chest pressed against Muriels back, spasming. He buried himself in his husband to the hilt, his release flooding into him.

From her place below, Celeste moaned, mouth still engaged with Muriel's softening member. Her eyes rolled back, and she tensed, her mouth falling open. She panted, sharp, short breaths, every muscle locked up. Her toes curling.

As they came down, they had to figure out the logistics of disengaging from their tangle. Generally, Celeste was in the middle, but Muriel had fallen at her side, tugging at her bottoms, pulling them down. She was oversensitive from the orgasm Asra had given her, but he had to touch her. His hand cupped her dripping sex. So slick, and so warm. He nuzzled her neck, pressing soft kisses against her skin.

Asra lay behind Muriel, stroking his fingers along his back. "Tell her how well she did, dear heart. Taking your cock like that."

"So good, Cela. It was so good." He said. His beard was rough against her soft skin.

She made soft noises, shifting towards Muriel. She wanted to be touched, but it was too much. She had never come like that before. It felt foreign. It felt...like too much. Good, but draining. She could generally go again, and again, but not after that.

"Don't...finger me. Don't touch my clit. I can't." She said, breathy. He nodded, kissing her cheek.

"Can I just hold you like this?" he said, stroking his long fingers along the outer lips, through the curls.

"Mmhm. That's fine." she murmured, turning her face towards his.

He kissed her, soft and slow. Asra pressed soft kisses against Muriel's shoulder, snuggling up against his back, and wrapping his arm around his waist.

They fell into an easy sleep in the midmorning sun. Happily reunited.

[zodiacal-dust-and-curls]

It’s Late (Ch 3)

A/N: Last chapter, my loves. You made it. This is all still fictional. Should line up with the Jazz and Crazy tours. Enjoy!

Warnings: swearing?, children, it’s cute (you’ve reached the fluff), good luck

Word Count: 2k

Ch 1 - Ch 2

Roger seemed to cling to you and Roxie in the coming months.

The band was recording their next album and the rhythm section seemed to spend a lot of time together to get the timing down. You spent even more time with Veronica than usual to help keep Robert occupied while she settled in with the newest addition to the family. This meant lots of dinners at the Deacon residence with you, Roger, Roxie, Robert, Veronica, John, and little Michael.

One day, after the recording was finished, Roger finally revealed why he’s been around so often.

“Y/N, I know that you probably don’t trust rockstars anymore,” a huge understatement really, “but I was hoping that just the two of us could grab dinner one day? Before the tour starts?” Roger Taylor had really just asked you on a date. Like a proper date. In front of your best friend’s house, no less.

“Roger . . .” You had to admire the guts it took to even ask. He knew your history, the whole band did. John refused to let Brian hide a damned thing from any of them. “Roger, I just . . . I know that you know what happened. But I can’t let you get close to us like that if you don’t intend to stay.” The tour would be starting in a few weeks. Just enough time for him to get close and then leave you alone. You could see it all playing out in your head already.

“Just dinner, Y/N. I promise to be on my best behavior for all of the tour. I’ll stay by John the whole time if you want a report back from a trusted source.”

“You can take me to dinner, Taylor. Have your fun on the tour. We’ll see what happens when you get back.” The smile that he gave you could melt even the iciest heart.

The dinner was sweet and rather uneventful. It felt more like two friends catching up than anything even slightly romantic. You had a good time and Roger seemed to enjoy himself as well. He left you that night with just a kiss on the cheek and the promise to see you again soon.

That had been about a month ago. He had seen you during that time, but never without someone present. Sometimes John, sometimes Freddie, but usually Roxie. It was okay. You’d told him to have his fun and promised him a proper chance after the tour. If he was going to woo you, he’d have to do it properly.

One thing you hadn’t expected from him while on tour was nightly phone calls. The situation felt so familiar, but seemed to sit differently in your soul. You were always pleasantly surprised when the phone rang and you picked up to find Roger on the other end of the line.

Roxie didn’t know about your little date, nor were you going to get her hopes up about anything. But she seemed to work Roger into her routine very easily. She fought sleep every night to hear his voice for just a few moments. You worried that if it didn’t work out, her heart would be broken beyond repair and she’d learn the same lesson you did at a much earlier age.

Towards the end of the tour, you were surprised to pick up your ringing phone to a very drunk Roger. He seemed to have an awful lot on his mind, but you had a fussy three and eleven twelfths year-old that was not going to go to bed without saying her usual good night to Uncle Rog.

“Rox, my lovely, my favorite girl.” You heard him through the handset. He was trying very hard to sound sober for your little one. “I hope you’re being good for your mumma and I hope you sleep well tonight.”

“I am Uncle Rog. I miss you though. Mumma isn’t fun like you.” Way to turn on your own mom, Roxanna Celeste. “When will you be back?”

You caught a giggle come from Roger. “I promise I’ll be home very soon, Rox. Just two more weeks.” You’d never seen Roxie look so disappointed in her Uncle Rog. “Can you be good for your mumma and go to bed, lovely?”

“No.” A drunken Roger and a pouty toddler. This was a match made in hell. You were sure.

“The faster you go to bed, the faster the morning will come, the faster the days will go, and the sooner I’ll be back to see you.” Okay, maybe drunk Roger had more toddler sense than you were ready for.

Roxie seemed to consider this for a moment. Her little eyebrows furrowing and her lips pursing out, as if to blow a very angry kiss. “Fine. Good night, Uncle Rog.” She handed the phone to you and waited for you to escort her to bed.

You put her down quickly and came back to the phone. “Rog?”

“Y/N! My favorite adult. How are you doing, love?”  It sounded like Roger had taken another shot before you came back.

“I’m fine. What are you up to? You sound a little . . . sloshed.” You wanted to say something else, but nothing really seemed to fit.

“I am. I’ve been thinking about you for the whole damn tour.” Well, that wasn’t exactly news. Why would he call if you weren’t on his mind? “You and Rox, actually. I know . . . I know what happened before. Brian is a dick. He should have told you the truth, that he wasn’t ready.” He paused for a breath.

“But, I am. I’ve had all my fun. I think I want to give domesticity a real try, especially with you.” Wait, what. “I waited so long. John threatened to kill me if I did anything before I was sure and you were so busy with Rox and I could never do anything to hurt her. I’d die before I hurt her.” You were beginning to get an idea of how many drinks he had.

“Y/N, you and Rox are the most important people to me. I’ve tried to take things achingly slow and I can’t anymore. I want to do things properly the minute I get home. What do you say?”

“Roger, are you telling me that my mothering skills attracted you to me?” The disbelief was evident in your voice.

“Partly.”

“Are you joking?”

“No.”

“Taylor, if you’re having a laugh, I will kill you before John does.”

“Y/N. I’ve never met a woman that makes me feel the way you do. You’re brilliant, you’re gorgeous, and you make me feel things I never thought I would want. I just think we should try this. What do you say?” You were in shock. Roger Taylor, the drummer from Queen, seemed to be attracted to you and had confessed it was amplified because of your motherhood.

“I think you better start planning how you’re going to court me. I’ll see you in two weeks, Rog. Good night.”

“Good night, my love. I’ll see you soon.”

Roger called you every night for the rest of the tour, Roxie kept her usual routine without much complaint, and you seemed to end your days with a countdown. The day Roger said, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” caught you by surprise.

Roxie was ready to bolt down to the airport to pick up the boys at 5 am. What you did to deserve this punishment, you weren’t quite sure.

“Roxie, lovely, come lay down with mumma. She’s tired.” This child. Roger might be wrapped around all her fingers, but you weren’t. At least not at 5 am.

“But mumma, Uncle Roger comes home today. I want to see him.” You were going to kill whoever taught her about calendars. Oh wait, that was you. Nevermind.

“He still has to land, lovely. Come here. We’ll wait together.” What Roxie didn’t know is that Roger was coming straight over, it was an early birthday surprise for her.

Roxie begrudgingly climbed into your bed. Thankfully, you knew how to get her to sleep. You pushed all the curls away from her face and started tracing light lines down her nose and eyebrows. This trick had worked from birth for her. It seemed to put her into a light trance until she finally fell asleep.

A few hours later, Roger knocked on your front door. He came alone, but not empty handed. A rather large, wrapped box sat behind him on your little porch.

“Um, Rog?” There could be no good explanation for this. You were sure.

“Yeah?” You didn’t like the smile he gave you. It was too innocent.

“What are you trying to bring into my house?” You pointed at the box. You couldn’t let him get out of this.

“It’s a present for my favorite girl. Where is she, by the way?” He had started to bring the box in just as you heard little feet run down the hallway.

“Uncle Rog! Uncle Rog! You’re back!!!” Roxie launched herself into his arms.

“I am back, Rox!” He pressed her tightly to him. “I brought you a present, too. I know tomorrow’s your birthday.”

“It is!!! I’m going to be four.” She wiggled to get down. “Mumma said she’s throwing me a party this weekend.”

Roger looked at you and mouthed “Party?” You nodded. Some of her friends from daycare, John and Veronica, and your family were going to attend. You were going to give Roger time to acclimate before you dragged him into anything.

“Will you be there?” Roxie did not seem so keen on giving him time to readjust to being home.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, lovely.” He gave her a winning smile.

“Can I open my present now, though?” So she hadn’t forgotten about the giant box in the room.

“I’m fine with it, but you have to ask your mum.” He turned his gaze on you. They both did. If you didn’t know better, you’d swear that Roxie was Roger’s.

“I suppose.” You smiled back, still wary of the box but happy to see such joy in your little one’s eyes.

“Roger, I hope you’re joking.” The box happened to contain the one thing you had managed to keep out of the house for four full years, a miniature drum kit. It was designed to grow with her to a certain point, but you were sure it’d never grow on you. Just like her excited shrieking wasn’t growing on you at the moment.

“I wish I was, love.” He at least had the decency to look slightly worried before he pulled you to him and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “But this is nothing compared to the one for her at my place.”

You just groaned as you dropped your head to his shoulder. When had you started raising mini-Roger?

Roxie’s birthday passed without a hitch. John was surprised to see Roger, given the threats you’d learned of, but was pleasant nonetheless.

Over the next few months, Roger seriously courted you. He took his time in planning things out and made sure to include Roxie, when appropriate. He never rushed you and truly seemed to enjoy all your time together.

The next tour they went on was very short. Queen had booked a short trip through The British Isles to promote their new single and give everyone a rest.

“What do you say, love? Do you trust me on this one?” Roger looked so hopeful.

He’d been the best partner you could ask for while the boys were home recording. He’d been wonderful during the last tour despite having no promises to keep to you. John had even mentioned in passing that there was only one night he was worried about his bandmate, and that seemed to coincide with the night of his confession.

“Of course, I do.” You couldn’t help but smile at him. He was so considerate to ask. “Go do your tour, love. Your favorite girls will be here when you get back.”

The tour was the perfect length to test this new relationship. Roger called every night like he had the tour before. He always helped you put Roxie to bed before wishing you a good night was well. No tabloids came out with scandalous reports. He returned to you in one piece, absolutely ecstatic to see you. All was finally well in your world.

Tag List: @rogers-wristbands @bitemerog 

A/n: You made it! Let me know what you thought. Stay lovely 🖤

[aleapoffaithfiction]

X.

This is not a coincidence 
And far more than a lucky chance 
But what is that was always meant 
Is our ribbon in the sky for our love, love 
- Stevie Wonder

Am I a pessimist?

History has shown that it is quite laughable that Americans celebrate Thanksgiving and yet every year, we flood the grocery stores spending hundreds of dollars to prepare a meal for a large number of people who we most likely won’t see or communicate with until the very next year when they’ve come to freeload from our dining room table all over again for the same ol’ holiday. It’s all in “thanks” though, right?

I think Thanksgiving is more of a performance for my mother than it is a time for thankfulness and bonding. It often feels like the event of the month for the neighborhood and she seems to hypothetically leave the door open for anyone to either drop by to have a couple of words with her or sit down to have a plate of the feast made by the hands of she, my sister, and myself. It’s also a day for her to head into her closet to pull out pieces of her more expensive attire that she likely purchased with my Nordstrom credit card. Today, when the apron came off, she only claimed to be freshening up, but upon exiting her bedroom she was donning a Roland Mouret dress and Christian Louboutin “Piagelle” pumps. I found myself scratching my head in confusion at the manner in which the pale orange material skimmed over her frame like a second skin. Though subtle, the seams were angular in their waist-defining approach. I hadn’t seen her wear anything that formfitting since the last date night she and my father enjoyed before his untimely death. The pearl set she paired with it was typical. She swears every woman should have a set of them though the world has certainly moved on to strictly gem stones. Thankfully, she didn’t put together a clutch bag or purse because I probably would have screamed in mental agony at how ridiculous she would have looked. Like a woman competing for a pageant, she’s been working the rooms filled with people all throughout the house for clout that she doesn’t need in the slightest.

“You still hiding in this corner?” I didn’t have to look up to know it was Kyle. Every year he flies up here from Miami to spend the holiday with Preston and my sister, so he ends spending the holiday right here in Brooklyn at my mom’s like the rest of us. Initially, I thought they’d pushed Kyle in my direction because we’re not that far apart in age and could probably relate on some things, but over these past two years I now know it’s because yet again Celeste thinks that she’s found someone who can be a good match for me. She does her most fucked up rendition of cupid whenever she comes across a man who she’d be interested in herself if she weren’t married and then she pushes him in my direction. I fell for her bullshit with Shamel but it will never happen again. Also, her husband’s brother? That’s entirely too close for comfort.

“It’s my preferred place to be when I’m not feeling the atmosphere.”

“What are you drinking?”

“Merlot.” I’ve been babysitting this glass of wine for over an hour now. My tongue is yearning for a Don Julio Paloma. If I don’t get home too late tonight, I’m absolutely going to fix one for myself while I watch whatever movie that’s OnDemand that I missed out on while it was in the theaters.

“I think Preston has some Barcardi in there. You want some?”

“No, I’m okay with this.” I only made the decision to indulge as a literal painkiller. I needed something to relax my body after having mostly been on my feet since early yesterday morning when I was rushed out of my bed to go and pick up a few last-minute items from Walmart.

I had no choice but to leave Odell tangled in top sheet and blanket as I quietly readied myself and put together an overnight bag for the following day. I thought I’d at least be able to make him breakfast but her demanding phone calls did not cease until I was actually at the store. As of now, my feet are viciously aching and I barely have enough energy to move my mouth to speak to everyone, let alone walk around. I’ve been wanting to go to sleep since I ate and I’m mentally cursing myself out for choosing to wear these boots, though they’re one of my most comfortable pairs.

“I think it’s cool that you all host this every year. My family always went to my grandmother’s for holidays. We never hosted anything at the house because my folks were never into that.” Neither am I. Maybe that’ll change when I have my own family, but as of right now, I’d rather keep my home as the safe haven that it is.

“Yeah, we’ve been doing it as far back as my memory goes. I feel like my father set the precedent. He was a people person and chose to have an open-door policy within the neighborhood. It used to be the one trait about him that drove my mother insane, but somehow, she adjusted to it and opened herself up to understanding why he chose to be that way. If people needed anything, they knew they could come here and we’d help out somehow. I guess you can say that our blessings were fruitful so that we’d be able to share them with others.” Though he’s no longer with us, I’ve kept his gems about being about the community embedded into my conscious. I donate to women’s shelters, the Boys and Girls Clubs, afterschool programs within the inner-city schools, and I’m working on creating recreational weekend sports camps for this up and coming summer.

“You look a lot like him.”

“Yeah, my looks definitely lean in his direction.”

“Great looks, by the way.” With a faint chuckle, my shoulders slouched in an adjustment for the slight aches in my back. Living alone has its perks and not having to constantly stand in front of a hot stove every day is one of them. The last time I stood on my feet for hours cooking was last year, this time. I’m just not used to it.

“Thanks, Kyle.”

“So, what’s it like being on ESPN? I know that it was always a dream of yours and it’s cool as hell to see you sitting up there. I feel like often times when we look at public figures on television, it almost seems like jobs like that are so far out of our reach and yet look at you. It’s impressive.”

“It’s great. It still feels surreal and then it has its pressure and stressfulness too. It’s a job in every single sense and I think a lot of people don’t think about it that way. A lot of people look at the glitz and glamor of it, but there’s so much that goes into our panel being able to sit there and entertain people every morning with our sports knowledge and banter.”

“I believe you. I know there’ll be a lot of work to put in for it, but is the goal to have your own show?”

“I don’t know. I’ve thought about it and sometimes it sounds ideal and other times I feel like I want to do something more. I don’t know if I want to spend the rest of my life on television but I probably wouldn’t mind it either depending up on the circumstances. I’m trying to figure that out. I know I want to create my own sports platform or possibly be in collaboration with another black creative or many of them to create something for us and by us. I can try and get our people in the door at ESPN but that final say isn’t mine, you know? And that fucks with me.” It still makes me chuckle when people call Scott the “token white” on our panel but it makes perfect sense in all of the wrong ways. His overdone sarcasm and constant need to play the devil’s advocate doesn’t negate his talent but could they have added a black journalist in his place? Would they have is the real question? I can’t call it.

“I feel you. I feel the same way. In tech, there aren’t many of us. I spend a lot of time going to speak at historically black colleges to persuade students to bring their talents to the field. You’d be surprised how a lot of the internal parts or software programming for some of our favorite gadgets are created from ideas young talented blacks have either sold or got swept under the table over due to fucked up contracts. I’m doing my best to change that reality, because I’m not slaving for anybody and none of us shouldn’t have to.”

“Cheers to that.” As our glasses clinked, I nodded in appreciation. Kyle and I always have great conversations and if Celeste weren’t so pressed for me to romantically pursue him, I think we’d be great friends. He’s progressive in all the right ways.

“Pictures please! You know I do a Facebook photo album every year. Stand up Sarai.” She came out of nowhere like a bat out of hell. I hadn’t even heard her Jimmy Choos clacking against the floor. I’m now finally realizing that both she and mommy have the same curls in their hair. What a kiss ass. I’ve been rocking a hat since guests began to arrive. After having sweated out my hair in the kitchen, I couldn’t be bothered with slaving in the bathroom with a flat iron trying to fix the pity. This slicked back ponytail will have to be until Anna fixes me up tomorrow.

“I’m not standing up.”

“Don’t be a sour grape.”

“My feet hurt. You can take one or two with me sitting right here.” Though she prepared her phone for the photos, it didn’t happen without her childishly rolling her eyes and stomping one heel clad foot. Kyle allowed it to be a solo moment by standing up and stepping away from the warm mantle of the fireplace. Even with the bit of makeup I put on to mask the exhaustion, I know I’m not in a picture worthy state but I’ll compromise for the sake of not having to hear her go on an attention seeking rant.

“Can you at least smile?”

“This is not a photo shoot. Take the pictures and send them to me when you finish. You’re not going to have me looking crazy online.” She took them, but without flash, and that within itself left me weary of her intentions. I’m slumming it in my joggers and this little off the shoulder top I randomly found on a clearance rack at Wet Seal. It damn near looks like I dressed myself in pure darkness but I’m making it work enough for myself alone. I wasn’t wearing pearls either way.

“I sent them. They’re cute.”

Surprisingly, they are. Daddy swears both Celeste and I get our photographic nature from our mother. He had a thing for constantly either videotaping or snapping pictures of us around the house or during family outings. Keepsakes of that kind have always been a tradition on his side of the family and he felt compelled to instill that in our household so that the future generations could use it all to piece together our family’s tree and history.

Everything we have is idly collecting sheets of dust in the lower cabinets of the entertainment center in the living and that’s where they’ll remain until someone has the courage to pull them out for what is sure to be the most draining emotional rollercoaster that any of us needs right now. I’m still trying to figure out how to navigate my memories of him, so I’d rather not clog it with better detailing about our days. I don’t know when I’ll get to the point of complete acceptance with a clear conscious but I’m with dealing it. For now, that’s enough.

I felt like a booty call gone wrong when you just got up and left like that. I woke up like, oh wow…

Heat flushed through my face as a fit of giggles erupted from my core at his nonsense. Not only did I text him and let him know that I left, but I wrote down the security code for the security system so he’d be able to lock the door whenever he planned to leave out.

How did you feel like a booty call when I left you in my bed? It’s not like I walked out of a hotel room on you. No one leaves booty calls in their own beds. If anything, I treated you like a booty call that I plan on calling again.

I considered waking him up, but the serene expression on his sleeping face halted my actions. The side of his face was meshed into the plush pillow on my side of the bed once he readjusted his position and though he reached for me, my absence didn’t wake him.

Oh, so that’s all I’m good for?

I despise how he has the capability of making me blush with his silly little banter and presence alone. It’s a naturalness that I’ve never experience at any of point of my life thus far and comprehending it seems undoable. My grandmother used to say that sometimes we don’t need to think but instead just feel but that is by far the most perplexing statement I’ve ever heard. All I know how to do is think, especially over these last couple of years.

Don’t be offended. At least I like it.

Like it? Lately I’ve been questioning if that’s enough to describe it. Liking it would be simple and this is anything but simple. I can do simple and blow it out of my way, but this? It’s a fucking enigma.

Happy Thanksgiving gorgeous. I’m rocking the boot today. Everyone is loving it.

Unexpectedly, an impromptu picture of himself standing in front of the grandeur double doors of his home followed his message. Per his usual, he was in loud textures that only he can get away with and hilariously covered in winter attire above the waist and summer attire below it. He wouldn’t be himself without having the crimson Supreme crossbody bag around him to perfectly match the boot. Oh, and how can I forget the phone case? Everything about his style would reek of hypebeast if it were anyone else and yet for him, it’s as uniquely expressive as his personality can be.

Handsome.

And that he is. It’s throttling.

Thank you, baby. Send me something.

The prickling in my dampening skin worsened my posture. I’ve never sent racy photographs to any man and yet the thought of sending a few to him is doing more to me than I understand, though that’s not what he’s requesting. Shamel would request them from me quite often and I’d deny him every time because the thought of laying back somewhere and spreading my thighs for a photograph of something that I barely wanted to give to him was unwarranted. On birthdays and holidays, I’d get pieces of lingerie that were satisfying to his eyes rather than well thought out gifts with aspects of my taste involved in the selection process and all of it was left in a box on the side of the street when I moved. I didn’t even deem it worthy enough to be sent out to the shelters and Goodwill's that I donate plenty of my things to.

I couldn’t bother with putting on anything special because I’m in no mood for that, so don’t judge me.

I bit the bullet by sending one of the pictures taken by the ever-nagging Celeste. Now that I’m looking at it, I know damn well I could have put on a pair of jeans with this flannel shirt.

You’re the epitome of beauty in every sense.

Not even the sudden presence of Quinton’s frame walking past me could put a damper on the gut-wrenching fluttering uncontrollably multiplying throughout every bit of me as I read his words over a few times. Does he know what he’s doing to me? Has he called my bluff? Am I exposed?

Even with a bad hair day?

I’m not completely aware of all of the details of his dating history but I’ve seen the women he has been rumored to have dated and much like anything would expect, they’re picture perfect. I don’t fit into the mold of those ideal body types who have all of their curves in the right places with a perfect set of perky boobs and an ass that is sure to make any man look back twice. I don’t even understand my shape enough to be able to describe it but I do my best to work with what I have.

Once upon a time, I thought about ridding myself of my breast insecurities by having a fat transfer done to plump them up without having to have implants inserted. Shamel didn’t make the situation any better by agreeing that I’d go from average to a dime piece if I did so. He even offered to pay for it if the insurance wouldn’t. When he and I split, I finally had the time to really sit down and consider if it was something that I desired to do for myself and it was then that I let the idea of it go. I am who I am. Laying on a surgeons table was never going to fix the issues within my mental space.

What bad hair day? I don’t see a single hair out of place. Am I still seeing you tonight? I miss you. I know it sounds weird for me to say that because we were just together, but I really do.

Not only am I physically drained and in need of my bed, but I also have to work tomorrow. I considered making this weekend a four-day weekend for myself last week but it slipped my mind to request the day off.

It doesn’t sound weird. I miss you too. I’m so tired though. You don’t want sleepy company, do you? I just want to lay in the bed.

I’m purposefully sitting on this bricked fireplace, because it’s uncomfortable and keeping me from dozing off somewhere.

Well, my bed is waiting for you to come and go to sleep in it. I don’t mind sleepy company at all. Come on.

I’m still very convinced that the universe is somehow trolling my life for whatever reason. Where did this man come from? When my prayers go beyond my loved ones and I began my requests to the man above for myself, I only pray for peace. This isn’t peace. It’s disruptive, confusing, and yet so damn earth shattering.

I’ll let you know when I’m on my way. I have work tomorrow, so I have to head to my house to grab some things so that I’ll be able to properly ready myself in the morning.

Hopefully, it’s not too late.

Sounds good. See you in a bit. Oh, and bring me some red velvet cake.

It took an additional twenty minutes of me idly sitting there to muster up the strength to move. Upon observing the room, Quinton walked past me twice without a word spoken and though it didn’t trouble me, I can’t say that I’m not shocked about his chosen tension and immaturity. I thought we’d be better than that because as he said, we have a history, and it goes beyond a date that didn’t turn out the way he wanted it to.

You win some, you lose some. Despite everything said between the two of us that night, I haven’t held any of it against his character and I probably never will because I honestly do believe that he’s a good guy with a good heart. I just think he’s lost track of who he is beyond the political career and until he figures that out, he will continue to make superficial decisions for his life all for the sake of upholding a specific public image.

“You coming to eat again?” Though everything else remain perfectly in place, mommy finally removed the heels and comfortably leaned against the kitchen’s island in a pair of Nike slippers she took out of my closet about two months ago.

“No. I can’t eat another bite. I’m just going to take some dessert with me for right now and then I’ll come over tomorrow after work for anything else I have a taste for.” I’m going to bring Beckham some red velvet cake, pineapple upside-down rum cake, and a bit of banana pudding. That should more than satisfy his sweet tooth. I handled all of the desserts this year. Next year, I’ll be damned if Celeste doesn’t help me.

“You look tired. I told you if you’d get into that kitchen of yours more often, you’d be used to this.”

“Cooking for a neighborhood of people? Not really.”

“Cooking for your family.”

“I cooked with my family, which counts for something. I don’t have a family of my own and I’m not sure if or when that’s going to happen for me, so I haven’t cared to train myself. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. The fact is, I actually do know how to cook, so I’ll be fine either way.”

“You could have a family of your own but you choose to avoid it.” If I’m avoiding anything, it’s where this conversation is about to go.

“With Quinton? Yeah, I’m sure that makes sense to you but it never will for me and I don’t appreciate you inserting yourself into that situation. I’m perfectly capable of choosing who I will and will not involve myself with romantically. I don’t need any lobs or assists from you.”

“If you’re so capable of choosing, why haven’t you chosen anyone? Why is he not worthy of a proper chance? You didn’t even try.”

“There was nothing to try. I’m not interested. I get it, though. It looks like it makes sense since we come from the same background, have success stories while coming out of the same neighborhood, and his mother and yourself can relate in ways that are both painful and triumphant, but it’s not going to work for me.” Quinton and I look good on paper. We’re ideal in the general sense, but anything beyond that? We’re a disaster waiting to happen.

“So, what is? You live in that huge home of yours all alone and you want to do that for the rest of your life? I worry that you’ll actually do that. Companionship is a good thing, Sarai. Having someone around to balance out life with you is healthy. Celeste has her own life and though I am your mother, you need more than just my shoulder to lean on whenever you take a break from that overly done independent woman rampage, you’re on.” Rampage? If anyone’s on a rampage, it’s her. She’s on a rampage for me to be barefoot and pregnant while being subservient to someone not even worth my troubles.

“Whatever I do will be my decision and I’ll have to live with that, not you. You’re so adamant about all of this, but you don’t even know half of the shit I went through with Shamel. So, excuse me for not being as enthusiastic about settling down as you need me to be. As I said before, I don’t know if or when it’ll happen, but I’ll be okay either way. Sometimes I wonder if the only time you’ll be proud of me is when I put on a big fluffy white dress and vow my life over to someone, because you certainly don’t show it when it comes to anything else that I do.”

“Oh, nonsense. Don’t do that Sarai. You know that I’m proud of you.”

“Well, you have a poor way of showing it. Excuse me.”

I had to put the banana pudding in a small plastic to go bowl because I didn’t want it to touch the pieces of cake I had on the plate. I don’t know about him, but occasionally I can be super anal when certain food touches one another. It throws the taste off.

“It’s late and since the crowd in here has died down, I’m going to head home. I have to work in the morning. I’ll be over here tomorrow.”

“You sure about that?”

“I’m sure.” I’m not cooking anything, so leftovers it is. I’m definitely coming.

“Well, give me a hug and kiss before you go.” I fulfilled her request immediately. I would have done so whether she asked or not. No matter what we disagree about, she is my mother. I don’t allow our indifference to steer me from that reality. I have one parent now and I’m going to nurture that as best as I can for as long as I’m granted to. I’d rather not live with any regrets.

“Drive safely and let us know when you get home.”

“Will do.”

People being slumped inside of the comfort of their homes or someone else’s seemed to keep the traffic down. I avoided the tolls by taking the FDR drive and Harlem River drive to Hudson Terrance in Fort Lee. Even Exit 73 was clear and I always tend to hit a bit of a slowdown whenever I’m coming from that direction.

The sight of my bed enticed me like no other as I lazily put together all that I needed to make the morning go as smoothly as possible while I drag and dread having to make that commute to Bristol. I’m going to need the most potently caffeinated cup of coffee while driving myself up there and I’ll probably need another for the commute back. That aside, having no plans for the weekend is absolutely official. I intend to sleep until my body can’t take it anymore.

On my way.

The anticipation to be within his presence battled the fatigue like the fiercest gladiator and that yearning carried me back out of the door and into my car. Even if I attempted to pass out, the guilt of standing him up would have kept me wide awake and staring up at my ceiling. I’m not even sure what to call Beckham but he’s my…something.

Taylor’s my person in the same manner that Meredith Grey is to Christina Yang. Is Beckham, McDreamy? Are our souls tying within that manner? It’s terrifying to think about and even more distressing to know that in some manner, it feels that way.

With Eris and Khan idly walking around the entry driveway to his home, there he sat awaiting my presence. It was the sight of the headlights that alert him to stand to his feet and I barely had the car in park before he was standing alongside the driver’s side of it.

“Glad you made it safely.” As the seatbelt slid back into its proper position, he leaned in and I instantly pressed my lips into the warmth of his for the kiss we both seemed to have been anticipating.

“You didn’t have to wait out here in the cold. I could have rung the bell.”

“It’s nothing. It’s not that bad out here anyway.” It was his strength that pulled me out of the seat and I was thankful for it because I know I would have sat there for much longer than necessary. The Chanel bag he gifted to me was all I had to carry inside, because he handled the rest.

The chattering coming from the kitchen and the low music was to be expected but with it nearing almost midnight, it was clear that whatever crowd he had in the house before had already gone home.

“That’s momma, Jazzy, and Kordell in there. They knew you were coming. You cool with saying hey?”

“Of course. I can’t just come in here and not speak.”

“You’re tired.”

“Tired, but not rude.”

There’s something about being in the house with his family that unnerved me. It’s not their presence but instead the circumstances for why I’m here. Family tends to be perceptive and how would his feel knowing that I’m likely going to lay alongside him in his bed tonight as I rest? It’ll be no marital bed.

Despite our ages, it doesn’t prevent people from side eying or negativity whispering about whatever it is they’re frowning down upon. Heather and I mutually admire one another and I’d hate for her to no longer feel the same way about me or believe that I’m a poor influence for her daughter.

“Sarai! You made it. Happy Thanksgiving.” Her long arms pulled me in for the bear hugs that she always gives. They’re comforting and reassuring; maternal and yet friendly all at once.

“Happy Thanksgiving. How are you?”

“I’m so good. Look Jazzy. Meet Sarai. Sarai this is O’s little sister Jasmine and his little brother Kordell. Sonny’s sleeping.”  In some ways, the both of them resemble him, especially Kordell. He’s literally the milk chocolate version of his older brother. In just my short moments of observing him, they also have similar mannerisms in the way they shift and squint their eyes.

“Wait, so this is your girl? This is the one? She be on TV with Kobe.”

“Kordell, shut up. It’s nice to meet you, Sarai. My brother speaks very highly of you.”

“You do too. Don’t try to water down the fangirling you be doing.” Beckham needed to put them on blast in order to save himself from the playful embarrassment they were attempting to inflict on him. I was once just as annoying to Celeste whenever she’d bring company over to the house. Even though we didn’t share a room, I’d deliberately invade her privacy just to be an annoying ass.

“I am a fan.” There was pride in her tone.

“I appreciate it Jazzy. Thank you.”

“How was your Thanksgiving? Did you spend it with family?” In her usual behavior whenever I’m here, Eris circled my feet and I leaned over to give her the attention she craved.

“It was nice. I spent it in Brooklyn with my mom, sister, and brother-in-law. Some family stopped by and a whole bunch of neighborhood friends. My mom likes to do it big for Thanksgiving, so it was busy.”

“It sounds like a good time though.”

“It was. It turned out nicely.” People kept the peace. I suppose that’s nice enough. I’ve been at family functions when shit has gone left and arguments happened.

“That’s good. Are you hungry? We have plenty.”

“I’m stuffed, but I love leftovers, so tomorrow sounds like a plan.” I could raid his fridge and my mothers. Either way, I can’t lose.

“You’re welcome to whatever you like. We were just getting ready to start…” Before she could finish the statement about the UNO game they were soon to begin, her impatient son cut her off.

“She’s tired. She has to get up for work in the morning.”

“If you wanted her all to yourself, all you had to do was say so.” What his siblings didn’t accomplish, she had. The rosiness flushing throughout his face tickled me into an uncontrollable laughter, that eventually both his mother and sister joined in on.

“She really does have to get up for work in the morning.”

“I do, but I can play a round of UNO. It’s no big deal.”

“You can play tomorrow. You need to sleep.” He held his hand out for me as if I were a stubborn child. If I weren’t so tired, I would have given him a run for his money at one of my all-time favorite card games. I know he hates losing.

“Well, goodnight.” I waved before latching my hand onto his own. Can this get anymore awkward? I should have just told him to come over to my place. Next time, I will.

“Goodnight.” It was all in unison with their attention completely locked into to whatever they assume is going on between one of the most important people to them and myself. I’m not sure what he’s told them but they’re well aware that we’re beyond just being friendly. At this point, even the dimmest person could pick up on it.

“I put extra towels, wash clothes, and a toothbrush in the bathroom for you. I’m not sure if you brought your own soap, but I took some Dove body wash from out of the bathroom my momma uses whenever she’s in town and staying here. I’ll plug your phone up and sit it on the nightstand for you.”

As soon as I removed my coat, he grabbed it and walked off to hang it on the outskirts of his closet. I’d been in his bedroom before but I didn’t necessarily observe every detail about it, but it’s very telling of the demanding career that he leads. Though a master suite in size, it’s fairly simple in décor and yet exudes the masculinity that I expect. Given that he’s highly detailed and puts plenty of thought into the attire that covers his body, I’m surprised that he hasn’t hired an interior design team to come in and turn the entire house into something out of an art gallery.

“I know you’re not hungry, but do you want anything to drink?” While I rummaged through my bag, I could hear the paws of the doors pattering against the wooden floors as they made their way into his personal space.

“No, I’m okay. I do need something to sleep in though. My sleepy ass forgot to pack that.” I don’t even remember attempting to find pajamas. I was so preoccupied with finding the perfect dress to wear on air and after that, decorating for Christmas. There’s always a mixture of dread and excitement about that. That’s one of the downsides of living alone. I have to spend days putting everything up on my own and it’s not easy.

“I got you. Hold on.” Yet again, he headed in the direction of his closet. At home? I only sleep in actual pajamas if I have company. Other than that, I’m usually in bed in damn near nothing. It’s comfortable and less of a hassle.

“Okay, here’s a shirt.” I knew it would be something Giants related. I’m sure that he has thousands of team related shirts that he hasn’t worn.

“What kind of shorts do you want? The cotton Nike ones are soft and light. Or do you want sweats? You want socks too?”

“The shirt is fine. That’s all I need.” Everything else will eventually end up on the floor if I put them on.

“Okay.”

I didn’t have to ask for privacy. As soon as he placed the shirt on the bed, I was left alone with the dogs once he walked out and closed the door behind himself. He’d given me more than enough time to change, brush my teeth, and even get settled into the coziness of his California king bed. The plushness of his ice grey down comforter was coaxing me into the perfect relaxation for slumber and yet I couldn’t refrain from rocking my hips, snapping my fingers, and mumbling along to Stevie Wonder’s “Higher Ground”. It wasn’t loud at all, but the volume was up just enough for me to be able to make out the song. Stevie’s soulfulness has always been a part of the extensive musical collection in my mother’s living room. His sounds were our Saturday morning clean up music during my childhood and that tradition followed me all the way to my own home.

“You’re an old soul too?” His amusement didn’t go unnoticed upon his reentry.

“I don’t have much of a choice but to be that. I get it from the two who made me.” I wonder if he allows the dogs on the bed. If it were my bed, I’d allow it. They’re so lovable, even in their massive size and intimidating demeanors.

“Stevie’s only on because my momma’s here. This is a Future household.” He could barely contain his own laughter. Future?

“Oh, how enjoying it is to listen to the misogynistic raps of Hip-Hop’s walking sperm bank.” Why do women fuck Future? I need a 60 Minutes episode about that.

“He’s just misunderstood.”

“I will kick you out of your own room. Misunderstood? He’s a demon.” Though I couldn’t see him, I could hear his laughter loud and clear. I can’t front, I can and will hit the dance floor to some of those infectious trap records created by the Atlanta native but the antics of his personal life are atrocious. No, but seriously, why do women subject themselves to him? Is the dick that lethal?

“A demon huh?” I couldn’t respond. The muscles in my throat contracted into a tightness that forced my frame back against the pillows as my lips fell agape at the sight of his tattoo covered skin. His chiseled abs aside, there’s something about the manner in which the ink is etched into his golden skin that is worthy of being displayed in the Louvre. Every bit of it tells a story that I want to run my fingers over and know thoroughly from start to finish. I want to plant kisses on the areas that are representative of past pain and marvel over those that are picturesque versions of his triumph.

“That’s exactly what he is.” I wasn’t as edgy as I am now when he was in my bed and yet as he joins me in his own, I nearly want to run to the opposite side of the room. As he did that night, he stretched out his arm to invite me into his space and I slid over to the middle of the bed to meet his warmth. With one press of a button near the bed, the lights were off, setting the complete mood for the few hours of sleep that I’m going to get.

“Am I forcing you to go to bed early? You’re a night owl.”

“I’m only a night owl because having surgery ruined my sleep schedule. When you don’t have much else to do, you tend to occupy your time with crap that’ll keep you up. Video games were it for me.”

“I miss being a night owl. Nowadays, I struggle staying up past ten. This is why I hope the show moves to New York. We’re currently in on and off negotiations about that. We’re also tossing around the idea of doing a few weeks in the Los Angeles during the summers with a live audience just to change the scenery of the show. Hopefully it goes through.”

“That would be great. You’d be closer to home and L.A. is always a nice change of scenery. I’m sure Kobe would love that too.”

“Yeah, he’s definitely the one who’s advocating for that idea.”

“And we’d be together in either city, because the timing would permit it. That’s perfect, actually.” He does spend his off seasons in the West, so I can see why he made note of that.

“It could be perfect. Fingers crossed; it works out.”

Our limbs were like magnets as they intertwined at different points and he’d idly plant a kiss on my forehead seemingly every ten to fifteen seconds.

I wouldn’t consider either one of us worthy of musical recording contracts and yet as the medley of Stevie’s “Ribbon in the Sky” faintly played below us, hums from the both of us drowned out his vocal delivery. The depth and rasp of his lulled me beyond what his warmth and the comfort was already doing. It inflicted a tranquil sense of drowning that I welcomed and yet the manner in which is large palm lightly grazed over the heated skin of my inner thigh ignited a ravenous blaze for him. The seat of my flimsy barely there panties dampened with every thrashing throb of my center. I haven’t been touched in so long, I’m afraid to know if I just unraveled from a gesture so simple.

A dewiness flushed over my skin as my heart thumped against my chest in a quickened rage. The pressure ignited that natural yearning that any woman should have when lying next to the man of her affection and I have no way of being able to reach over to my own nightstand, open the draw, and grab the blackened vibrating device to handle this myself. I had to move over for the sake of my sanity and most of all, to lessen the possibility of humiliation. His now resting body didn’t allow the distance to last as long as I needed it to.

Yet again, his hand met the inside of my thigh and drew me into his side as I once was before. The aroma of his intoxicating fragrance slithered up my nose as I was locked into place with his arm, which coaxed me to whimper at such an endearing torture.

God, help me.

The scenic sunrise was my company in the shower after hitting the snooze button twice to extend the comfort that I didn’t want to lose. With a lack of regard for time, I prolonged my minutes in his state-of-the-art shower just as much. It’s the first time in a long time that I’m sorrowfully dreading stepping onto that set to do what I love to do.

“Good morning.” I attempted to be quiet but I must have not done a good enough job. As his frame towered behind me, he trailed kisses up my back, ahead of the zipper that he was pulling up from the back of my maroon pencil style dress. At home, I unraveled a wire hanger and turned it into my own personal hooked zipper closer. I prefer this. The feel of his lips pressing against my skin and the aura of his being surrounding me supersedes that any day.

“Good morning.”

Although I’ll be doing my make-up routine in my dressing room, I still moisturized my face and applied a decent amount of lip gloss to my lips as while he stood at the sink brushing his teeth. I’m not even sure if concealer will be able to do much hiding of my exhaustion today. My eyes are literally burning because they’re open and I have a budding headache just waiting to worsen as soon as I walk out of the door.

“I’m going downstairs to let the dogs outside.”

“Okay.”

I chose comfort for the commute with my favorite black Nike slippers and carried my Jimmy Choo pumps in the dust bag I keep them protected in. I didn’t bother switching purses, although the Chanel one is no match to this dress. No one’s going to see it and right now, I don’t give a shit.

While sitting on the bed, I texted Chad to take pictures of the agenda and send it over so that I can glance over it once I hit traffic, because there’s no doubt that maybe forty minutes into the commute, I will. If I can get a head start on reading over it, our briefing will be a few minutes and I’ll be able to take somewhat of a cat nap before we’re on air. If I’m not mistaken, Isaiah Thomas is coming by to speak with us today about how he’s adjusting to life in Cleveland. Boston’s decision to trade him was one hell of a shocker to the public and a blow that he took extremely personally after not only dedicating all of his loyalty to the team, but even continuing to do so after the loss of his sister. So, no matter how worn out I am, I certainly want to be alert to ask him a few of my own burning questions.

Yet again, I did my best to remain quiet as I maneuvered through the second floor of the house and descended down the staircase to the first. No one else was awake with the exception of us and the dogs, who were all highly alert and within close proximity to me.

“I thought you’d come down sooner.” He was in the silver reflective goose coat that he greeted me in last night and I’m even more in love with it now. If I can’t find it to buy on my own, I’m going to plead with him for his because he’s probably never going to wear it again. I have some Maison Martin Margiela boots that would be perfect with it.

“I’m dragging. What’s that?”

“Your breakfast.” In one hand is what appears to be some kind of a green thick smoothie and in the other is a bag with God knows what in it. He hates coffee and the way it makes him feel, so the smoothie makes sense.

“Thank you, babe.”

“Uhm. You coming back here when you get off?” With every inch we moved closer to the door, his four-legged protectors were right along with us.

“After I drop by my mom’s.”

“Okay.”

The awaiting SUV completely caught me off guard because I hadn’t requested a driver. Should I have? Absolutely, because I don’t feel like driving, but did I? Nope. I didn’t do a lot of things that I should have done this week. This is why I need to spend my weekend in the bed.

“You called?”

“You’re tired.”

His simple explanation made more sense than anything that I can think of.

“While you’re at work, think about coming to Louisiana with me.” He held my things while I slid into the backseat. Louisiana?

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No.”

“What’s in Louisiana?”

“Home.” I already knew the answer and yet I asked.

“I’ll consider it.”

“That’s all I ask. Gimmie them lips.” There was no hesitation. If anything, it was lingering and nearly enough to make me truant on ESPN.

“I’ll be watching.”

“Thank you. See you later.” I snuck another taste of his lips for a good day and closed the door on my own.

I prepared to nearly gag at the green concoction he blended together for me, but ended up pleasantly surprised at its appeasing taste. Though it was kale, the medley of pineapple, mango, and banana served as a balance. Inside of the bag? Chobani yogurt, crackers, and Sargento string cheese. He remembered my odd choices for a favorite snack. I never remember to put together any of that stuff the night before or right before I’m leaving out for work. I don’t even need to stop for a crappy sandwich at Dunkin Donuts now. I owe him, because this is perfect.

“Any requests for the radio ma’am or should I turn the Bluetooth on?”

“Bluetooth, please.”

I let my Stevie Wonder playlist on Apple Music do its thing. “Signed, Sealed, Delivered” instantly began my usual solo backseat party. Usually it happens on a Friday as I’m on my way home from work, but on this particular Friday, I’ll be partying both ways.

Louisiana sounds like a nice trip.