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lovelykiri · 4 years ago

Text

two times four

summary

You were teasing Bakugou ALL during school today- you didn't think anything would come of it, but boy were you wrong. He's been waiting all day to punish the hell out of you. The moment he gets back from his afterschool training, you're DONE for.

female reader

both UA third years

content warning

overstim, spanking, cursing, anger, daddy kink, thigh riding, fisting, breeding

full fic by spice🥧

Bakugou burst into your dorm, catching you off guard. You looked up from your homework, confused.

"Don't look at me like that! You know EXACTLY how you were acting today."

"Oh- that, I was just messing around. Don't get your panties in a bunch over it." you giggled, knowing this would piss him off further.

"Bedroom. Now." he said.

Shit.

You fucked up.

Bakugou picked you up, threw you over his shoulder, and carried you down to your bedroom. He then threw you down on the bed. He sat on top of you, straddling your waist and pinning your arms to the bed. He roughly kissed you, and then moved down to suck a hickey onto your neck, which drew a small moan from you.

He was marking what was his, after you paraded yourself around like a slut all day today.

"You like it when I mark you?"

"Y-Yes.. it feels so nice."

He reached around your back, finding the clasp of your bra, and undid it. He then took off his shirt and threw both of your shirts and your bra across the room.

He leaned down onto you and began to suck at one tit, his hand kneading the other. You moaned loudly and grabbed a fistful of his hair. After he had successfully marked one, he moved to the other.

"Oh- FUCK! DADDY!" you yelled.

"What did you call me?"

Your cheeks glowed a bright red, and you turned your head away from Bakugou's gaze, not meeting his eyes.

He got close to your ear and dropped his tone.

"Say it again for me."

"D-Daddy.."

"I didn't hear you." he said running his hand down your stomach, dangerously close to your jeans button.

You faced him, cheeks still red.

"Daddy!"

"That's more like it, princess."

Bakugou smiled and began to undo your jeans.

"Now, we get to your punishment."

"Punishment?

"Why yes, punishment." he said as he threw your jeans into the corner, his following them shortly after.

He ran a finger along the middle of your panties, causing you to moan in surprise.

"You're dripping for me and I haven't even taken your underwear off yet. Such a good girl for her daddy. But I haven't forgiven you for being a whore today. Ass up."

"Y-Yes sir." you said, flipping over.

"I'm gonna spank you for being so naughty. You have to count out loud though. If you don't count, we start over."

"O-Okay.." you closed your eyes as you felt one of Bakugou's calloused hands caress one of your ass cheeks, and relaxed a little, thinking he wouldn't go that hard.

Mistake.

Bakugou clapped down as hard as he could, drawing a scream from you.

Although it hurt, the pain mixed with pleasure. As the sting spread across your ass cheek, you heard a laugh.

"You didn't count, princess."

Shit- although... would being punished again really be so bad?

"Let's try again."

His hand came down with barely any warning.

"ONE!"

"TWO- NGH-"

"Louder, slut. Let the whole dorms know you're mine."

"THREE!!"

"FOUR!"

"FIVE!!"

"I think that's enough. Are you ready to be a good girl for me?"

"Y-Yes daddy.."

"Good."

You flipped over again, ass red and bruised.

Bakugou ran two fingers along your soaked panties again, and pushed them aside to run his fingers along your slit.

"Ngh- p-please daddy- I need you."

"So needy.." Bakugou pulled the soaked panties off of you, tossing it with the other articles of clothing.

His mouth moved down to meet your aching clit, and began to suck gently.

That stimulation alone had you seeing stars.

"Oh- Oh god.. DADDY!"

You felt Bakugou smile against you, continuing to suck your needy clit like it was his last meal.

He ran two fingers along your folds, before lightly circling your opening.

You tried to move your hips to get her to put them in, but found Bakugou's free arm holding down your waist.

Bakugou came up for a second.

"Princess, you're so needy. Little slut. You have to wait. Daddy knows what's good for you."

"Y-Yes sir.."

Bakugou chuckled and dipped his head back down, returning to your slightly swollen clit.

You threw your head back in a moan, and then felt two fingers slide inside your dripping cunt.

"F-FUCK! DADDY!"

Bakugou pumped his fingers for a few seconds, dipping in and out. The only sounds that could be heard was the wet noises of your pussy and your moans.

Bakugou brushed lightly against that one sweet spot that sent waves of pleasure shooting through your body.

You felt that familiar pressure begin to coil in your lower stomach.

"D-Daddy I'm gonna-"

You were interrupted by Bakugou pulling his fingers out.

"N-No- daddy, please, let me cum.. I pr-omise I'll be a good girl tomorrow, I'm sorry.." you mumbled, attempting to rub your legs together to relieve some of the aching desire to be touched.

Bakugou slapped your inner thighs and pulled them wide open with ease, making sure your cunt was up in the air for everyone to see.

"Make me cum and I'll let you cum."

"Y-Yes sir."

You moved positions, you were now on the floor with Bakugou sitting on the bed. He let his erect cock spring free of his boxers.

You tenderly took it into your mouth and swirled your tongue around the tip.

"F-fuck."

You smiled softly at the validation from your master- the one who had complete control over you right then. You sucked his cock deeper into your throat, continuing to swirl your tongue in ways that had his eyes glazed over from pure pleasure.

"P-Princess-"

You then began to suck harder and faster, having Bakugou seeing white. You began to use your hands around the base of his cock, causing him to moan in pleasure.

"Y-Y/n, m'gonna c-cum-"

Bakugou threw his head back, practically yelling as the orgasm crashed over him in waves, the pleasure being intensified with every second. Hot white cum shot down your throat, and you swallowed it as it leaked out, not wasting a drop of his seed.

You continued to suck him off and lightly jerk the base of his cock through the orgasm, which sent another one crashing through his body, more cum shooting down your throat.

You swallowed the last of it and looked up at him with complete need in your eyes.

After he caught his breath, he let you back up on the bed and sat in between your legs, holding them as far apart as they could go, making sure you couldn't relieve your need in any way. The cold air against your pussy made you shiver.

"You made me cum twice. That deserves a reward. But, I only told you to make me cum once. You see, daddy is very strict. So there will be a punishment for that. What's two times four?"

"E-Eight?"

"I'm going to make you cum eight times, princess. I don't care how bad it hurts- also, every time you touch me or cum without permission, I'm adding another."

"Y-Yes sir."

"Good." he said, cupping your dripping pussy.

He began to rub your aching clit again, harder with every shake of your legs. The stimulation of your clit alone was enough to make you cum- but you couldn't- not yet- not until Master says.

"Don't hold back your moans, dear. You're mine, be proud of it." he said, before dipping down to lap up your slick.

He popped up again.

"8 seconds. Count out loud. Then you can cum."

Then, he disappeared between your legs again, working his magic that had your legs shaking and your moans echoing through the dorms.

"One.."

"Two.."

"Three- ngh"

"Four."

"Five- oh fuck-"

"Six."

"Sev-"

But before you could get it out, that coil that had been building- the band that had been getting tighter and tighter for the hour you had been being edged- denied the right to cum, snapped as Bakugou hit that one damned spot that had your vision going spotty.

Bakugou was kind, and ate you out through the orgasm as your pussy fluttered hard around his tongue.

"Bad girl... then we're going nine times. And that didn't count."

"Y-Yes s-s-sir.." you said shakily, gripping the bedsheets so hard your knuckles were white.

"Come sit." Bakugou said, patting one of his thighs.

You obeyed and straddled his thigh, your slick cold and slimy against Bakugou's skin.

"You've made a mess, dear."

"I-I'm sorry daddy."

"It's quite alright, babydoll. Just means I'm doing well."

His hands ran down your body, eventually finding your hips and pushing your oversensitive pussy harder onto his thigh, which sent a shiver down your spine.

He began to move his thigh back and forth, pushing you down on it and forcing you to move the opposite way.

"Sh-shit daddy- I'm too sensitive- please-"

"Let me help you with this then. You can cum when you have to."

He moved his fingers down, feeling around for a second before finding your clit and rubbing on it some more.

"It hurts, daddy."

"Good. It should hurt."

"Ngh- I'm so close-"

That coil in you snapped again as Bakugou moved you roughly to his knee and forced you down on it.

"One down, eight more to go, babydoll."

"No- Please I'm so sensitive, sir."

"You wanted to cum right? You should be thanking me."

Before you could utter the words though, you felt something wrap around your throat, restricting your airflow as you were slammed back into the bed.

Bakugou began to roughly finger-fuck your sloppy cunt again, as you struggled for air.

"Cum for your daddy, princess."

He removed his hand from your throat. The stinging but relieving sensation of air entering your lungs again was enough to send you over the edge again, forcing out yet another powerful orgasm.

But Bakugou didn't stop. He slipped in a third finger, and began going faster.

"S-Sir! What are you doing?"

"What do you think princess? No cumming until my fist is inside of your tight little cunt."

"Y-Yes sir." you managed to get out as a fourth finger slipped in.

Before you could even get used to the fourth finger, a fifth was shoved inside, the pain being almost unbearable- but so amazing at the same time.

Bakugou's fist bottomed out inside you, hitting your walls and brushing over that sensitive spot (which was now aching and even more sensitive) far to quickly.

"It hurts!"

"I know- but you're so pretty like this. Squirming in pain, trying not to cum, just to please me. I can feel you holding back, you know."

It was true. The pain was making your vision go white- it was so good. You had been using all your strength to stop your oversensitive pussy from getting you punished.

"Cum, darling."

As soon as the words left his mouth, any resistance you had broke- your strength used. The most powerful orgasm you had ever experienced racked through you.

After squirting all over Bakugou's fist, you passed out for a minute.

"Six more- no sleeping yet."

"Y-Yes sir." you said foggily.

Bakugou smiled.

"I think you've earned my cock, don't you think?"

"D-Daddy no- please, I'm so sensitive and-"

While you were babbling, you didn't notice Bakugou lining up with your abused hole.

He snapped in, drawing a yell from you.

He began to thrust into you, giving you no time to get used to his length. He bottomed out, his thick cock brushing over your walls in a spectacular manner. Your legs wrapped around his back as you gripped the bedsheets as hard as you would muster.

"M'gonna breed this pretty little pussy- you'll be swollen with my children when I'm d-one with you." he stuttered out.

"I'm cumming inside. You don't have a choice."

Hot ropes of cum squirted against your cervix, making resisting your own release nearly impossible.

"Cum." he commanded

You came again, laying limp as it spread through your body, causing your legs to shake.

"Only a few more, love. From here, you have to yell what number we're on when you cum. Got it?"

"Yes sir."

"Get up." he commanded.

You obeyed, fearing punishment if you didn't comply.

"You've made a mess on me- clean me off while I finger fuck you as a punishment. You may only cum when I deem myself clean.

"Yes sir."

"Good girl."

You went into the bathroom and got a wet washcloth and brought it back. You began to wipe Bakugou off, starting with his chin.

You gasped as you felt two fingers enter your body, beginning to fuck you roughly.

You cleaned Bakugou up shakily, using whatever little strength you had left to stand and try not to cum, as he pistoled his fingers deep inside of you with a cocky smirk on his face.

You finished wiping down Bakugou's cock- the last part you had to clean. But something unexpected happened- Bakugou pulled his fingers out and held his hand out.

"What? I said clean my whole body. That includes my hands. Then you may cum. I assume you can do it without anyone touching you since you're obviously so close. Go on, wipe off your mess, slut."

You wiped Bakugou's hands off, and stood there, unsure of what to do.

"No hands allowed. No rubbing thighs allowed. Just think. That's all you're allowed to do. You can't sit down until I see that pretty little pussy shaking with pleasure for me. Oh, no breaking eye contact either."

"Y-Yes sir."

You stood as still as you could muster, looking at Bakugou's sadistic gaze. You thought about cumming- focused on it, trying to feel it in your brain.

Think of your pussy flapping wildly, squirting your juices everywhe-

And it happened.

You felt that band snap, your knees turned to jello, and your vision clouded. Slick ran down your legs, dripping down onto the floor.

"FOUR!" you called out, indicating how many orgasms you had left.

You tried to stand upright, but as soon as the orgasm finished, you collapsed onto Bakugou.

Bakugou picked you up and placed you back down on the bed.

He opened your legs again, letting you sit for a minute so you could gather in a puddle of your own wetness.

"No fingering this time. You can only have clit stimulation."

He began to rub lightly on your clit, pushing your legs back as wide as they could go any time you tried to bring them in even a little.

The need to cum was urgent- tears pricked at your eyes from trying your damn hardest not to cum.

You had never been so sloppily wet, feeling so empty, and it was quite embarrassing. The embarrassment had you dripping even more- ready to be sent over the edge at Bakugou's will.

"Cum for me, darling."

You had never obeyed orders so fast.

"THREE!

The orgasm rocked you, causing a sob to be let out. You attempted to close your legs, but Bakugou had other plans and continued to hold your legs as far apart as they could go.

He ran his fingers down your center, getting up as much of your arousal as he could, and shoved two fingers into your mouth.

"Suck." he commanded.

You sucked your sweet juices off of his finger, waiting for his next commands.

"Touch yourself. No breaking eye contact."

"Yes sir."

You began to swirl your clit, moaning his name while looking into his eyes. He was stroking his cock, watching you finger yourself. This excited you and you slipped your fingers into your pussy. The slipperiness startled you as your fingers went up with ease, instantly finding your g-spot.

"C-Cum." Bakugou managed, as he released onto your stomach.

You snapped again, cumming around your fingers.

"TWO!"

You pulled your fingers out, a string of your wetness still attached.

"So disgusting. Dirty slut. Now suck it off your hand."

You sucked off your slick again, never once breaking eye contact with your master.

"I'm gonna breed your little pussy again, I'm gonna make your stomach swell with my cum, and you're gonna like it."

"Yes sir."

He thrust into you, the squelching sounds of two soaked bodies slapping together being the only sounds filling the room, other than your moans.

He positioned himself right up against your womb, cumming directly into it without a warning.

The sudden heat made you gasp, and you looked at him BEGGING him for a release.

"Cum."

"ONE!"

He thrusted into you through your orgasm- and just when you caught your breath again, he went even faster than he had been before.

"Last one. Make it good."

"Y-Yes sir!" you said

He smirked.

"Look at the outline of my cock in your stomach. I'm so deep, princess. You're being such a good slut for daddy."

"Thank you sir!" you moaned out.

"Cum now, princess."

"Y-yes sir!"

"ZERO!"

You shook with a raging force, squirting everywhere once more.

You almost instantly fell back, closing your eyes as cum leaked from your abused pussy.

"Y/n?"

"Hm?"

"Did i hurt you? Are you okay?"

"M'fine.. just tired... sore.."

"You must be so tired, but you took me so well. Let's get you a warm bath- that might help with the soreness." he said tenderly.

You two were in the bath, gingerly washing each other off.

You two finished washing up and he carried you out to your room, brushing your hair and slipping you into a fresh pair of panties and some PJ'S.

He looked around the room, seeing what a mess it was and how gross the bed was.

Yeah- no way in hell you could sleep there tonight.

He brought you to his room and slipped you into the bed with him, then cuddled up with you.

"Hey, Y/n?"

"Mmhmm?"

"You aren't allowed to cover those hickeys at school tomorrow."

"Figured." you sighed, cuddling into him more.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Bakugou."

#bakugou smut #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #katsuki bakugou #.spice writes🥧

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scoopsohboi · 3 years ago

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cheers, my dear (robin buckley imagine)

pairing: Robin Buckley/Reader

wc: 1759

warnings: alcohol, smut

read on ao3

The shrill sound of the landline made your skin crawl and you groaned loudly as Robin turned the dial on the stereo to drown out the insistent ringing.

“Why does he keep calling?” you whined as your best friend danced to the music while walking back to the kitchen table you two had been seated at.

It was Friday night, which meant Robin was sleeping over and the two of you had free range of the house since your mom worked late on Fridays. You watched as she swayed her hips rhythmically and your cheeks grew hot as she flipped her hair.

“Because he misses you, babe,” Robin replied nonchalantly while she grabbed the bottle of brown liquor left near two dirty shot glasses and you forced yourself to look away.

You let out a groan. You’d only been dating Greg for a couple months, and since you weren’t really interested in him, you’d broken up with him earlier after school. You thought he’d taken it well, but he’d been calling non-stop for the past hour. You felt bad ignoring the calls, but you really didn’t know what else there was to be said.

“Here,” Robin said and slid you a full shot glass.

You took the glass gratefully and, once Robin had hers in her hand, clinked it against hers.

“Cheers, my dear,” you said and tossed back the drink, now only slightly feeling the burn down your throat.

xxXXXXXxx

You didn’t remember how you’d ended up sitting on the floor in the middle of your bedroom with Robin, but you knew it had been funny. After drinking one too many shots, the two of you had run up to your room and were now laughing uncontrollably, but why it was funny was beyond you. You just liked the sound of Robin’s laugh and you’d be damned if you were the reason it ended.

You swayed a little and leaned into Robin’s shoulder as you giggled. The alcohol was fuzzing your brain, thoughts bubbling up to the surface just to pop before you could realize them. You felt good, though, that was clear enough.

Robin threw her head back and let out a hearty laugh as her body softly shook in rhythm to the sweet sound. You felt it again, that churn in your stomach and burn in your chest. You tried to fight it back, the usual routine, but the feel of Robin against you and the warmth from the whisky made it impossible.

And, if you were being honest, you just didn’t feel like pushing back the feelings.

You always had to be on your best behavior. Don’t let anyone know. Don’t say that. Don’t stare too long. Don’t touch her arm like that. Laugh so she doesn’t know how true it is. Lie. Hide.

Moments alone with Robin always felt so fragile. One wrong step and everything could shatter.

But what if she felt the same way?

You’d caught her staring, too, over the years. You’d seen the look in her eye when the two of you would stay up late during sleepovers, lay in bed inches from each other, sometimes talking and sometimes just silently being together.

Robin leaned back a little too far, fell on her back, and laughed harder as you fell back beside her.

“You’re drunk,” you laughed.

“And whose fault is that?” she retorted, a little louder than intended, and you snorted.

“Yours ‘cause you’re a lightweight,” you slurred. Robin rolled her eyes but smiled brightly.

“Shut up, I’m perfect.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” you replied as you rolled onto your stomach and propped yourself up on your elbows. “My perfect, lightweight, Robin,” you cooed as you reached out and cupped her cheek playfully.

Robin’s gaze shifted to your lips briefly and something inside you flared up. It was subtle, but unmistakable. A flame that was always lit simple turned up, fed by Robin’s breath as it softly hit your arm.

You leaned in easily as a surge of confidence coursed through your veins like a shot of adrenaline. You pressed your lips against hers, slightly messily at first and you thought maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to do this for the first time when you were both a bit inebriated.

But then you felt Robin kiss you back. Her hands went to your waist and her soft lips began to move with yours and fuck it if this wasn’t the best idea you’d ever had.

You moved closer so you were better positioned on top of her, one leg between her thighs as one of her hands moved to your ass and her tongue slid along your bottom lip. You parted your lips as you ground your hips down and gave much needed friction to you both while her tongue swirled around yours.

Robin let out a soft moan and encouraged you to keep moving your hips, and you were more than happy to oblige. She bit your lip and you kissed her hungrily. Robin squeezed your ass as she tried to pull you closer to her. You began to move faster and ground roughly against her, rode her thigh harder as you both grew more frantic, years of yearning and lust finally breaking free.

You broke away from Robin’s lips to kiss a trail down her neck and relished every sound she made as you nibbled the soft skin or flicked your tongue.

“Fuck, you’re so sexy,” you nearly growled.

You were beginning to feel lightheaded and gripped her hips for stability as you continued to ride her, her soft breathy moans made your head swim. Forget the whisky, you were drunk on Robin now.

You felt her hands tug on your hem of your shirt and you sat up more so she could lift it over your head. Robin tossed the shirt to the side before unclasping your bra with quick precision. You felt your cheeks flush uncontrollably as she looked up at you, pupils blown and lips swollen.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” she said, voice low as she cupped your breast and thumbed over the nipple.

A chill ran down your spine and you hummed softly as you bucked your hips.

“Fuck, Robin,” you muttered, and she softly pinched your nipple as she rolled her hips and urged you to keep moving.

Your breath hitched. You worked yourself against Robin’s leg and could feel your body grow hotter as soft moans escaped your lips. You’d been intimate with other people, but not like this. Never like this. This was raw, and honest, and felt more real than anything else. You wanted more. You needed more.

You moved your hands to Robin’s jeans and let your fingertips run along the skin below her bellybutton. Her hand still on your breast tightened and you bit you lip. You watched Robin’s face as you undid her button and zipper, and sucked on two of your fingers before you slipped them in below the elastic of her underwear.

If Robin had looked lustful before, she now looked like she would burst. Her lips parted and chest heaved as she drew a ragged breath, eyes wide and trained on yours as your fingers began to rub around her clit. You realized you hadn’t even needed to use any spit because Robin was already soaking wet, your fingers sliding in the slick heat.

Robin let out a louder, longer moan than the ones previously elicited, and you made sure to pay close attention to her body movements. You swirled and stayed where her hips bucked and slid inside when her fingers dug into your hips. You kept one hand between her thighs and the other under her shirt as you played with her breasts and unwaveringly rubbed yourself against her thigh.

“Fuck, y/n,” she moaned, and you could tell she was close.

You worked harder and unrelented as her back arched under you. Her moans turned frustrated as she climbed toward her climax and you leaned forward to kiss her. As her tongue touched yours, her hips bucked, and she moaned into your mouth.

You could feel her whole body tremble as you worked her through her orgasm, and you kept your fingers moving until she was done. Watching her put you over the edge as well, and it took you a moment to catch your breath.

Once you were able to form coherent thoughts again, you slid your slick fingers out from between Robin’s thighs and licked Robin off them, the flavor making you wish you hadn’t used your fingers.

“I want to taste you next time,” you admitted aloud and Robin looked speechless.

Robin leaned up and pressed her lips to yours. You kissed her back, hand on either side of her face as she led you back down with her, mouth open and tongues dancing deliciously. She cupped your ass with one hand and tangled the other in your hair, holding you firmly against her lips. You stayed that way for a moment and enjoyed the way it felt to have Robin’s body flush against yours.

“You have no idea,” Robin began before breaking as you kiss her again, unable to stop now that the floodgates had been broken, “how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

You kissed Robin’s lips softly before looking in her deep blue eyes. No idea? Did she really think you hadn’t been dreaming of this moment, too?

“I think I might,” you said as thoughts of longing stares and chest aches flashed through your mind.

“But Greg-”

“Was a distraction. And a poor one at that.” Robin’s brows furrowed and you couldn’t help but place a soft peck between them. “I only went out with him to... to try and get you off my mind. I’d hoped being with someone would make me stop thinking about you all the time.”

Robin bit the inside of her cheek as she watched you carefully.

“And?”

“And, turns out that’s fucking impossible. I mean damn, Robin, have you met you? I never stood a chance.”

Robin blinked as a soft smile grew on her lips and you couldn’t calm the butterflies that flitted about in your stomach.

“We’re dumb,” she said simply.

You laughed a little and nodded your head.

“Oh, yeah. Very.”

Robin grinned.

“I really like you, dingus,” she said sweetly as she cupped your cheek to bring you back in.

“I really like you, too, dummy,” you whispered against her lips before she kissed you, and you felt her smile.

#robin buckley imagine #robin buckley reader #stranger things fic #i havent written in like 2 years ignore me i just feel like sharing #scoopydoo #robin buckley fic #long post

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dropssofjupitter · 4 years ago

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The American

Pairings: Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader [Platonic] , George Weasley x Slytherin!Reader [Semi-slowburn]

Summary: A new transfer student is welcomed to Hogwarts during the politically tense times that have befallen the wizarding kingdom. And despite their better judgement and the new (and frankly horrifying) DADA teacher, the twins can’t seem to get her out of their mind

Word Count: 2.5 k

Warnings: Umbridge (I feel like that’s enough said for that one), anxiety mentions, swearing (light. maybe one f-bomb), Ron being a lil prejudiced against Slytherins

Next >>

A/N: I took a small liberty with the last name just to help the story flow better, so I’m sorry if that’s upsetting. I am also apologizing ahead of time if I wrote the twins ooc, it’s my first time writing a fic for them! [Not beta read, any mistakes are mine and mine alone]

You took a breath, hands smoothing down the sides of your skirt, twisting nervously in the folds. You could do this. Nerves ran throughout your body, making it feel like it was humming with energy as you shifted on your feet. You could do this. The professor next you, McGonagall if you remembered correctly, placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. You forced a small smile, turning your face back to the set of great wooden doors in front of you. You could barely hear a thing that was being said, you just knew that you would be introduced after the new teacher and then sorted into your house.

“In other news,” a voice raised from behind the doors and you looked up sharply. “We have a transfer student joining us this term. We have decided that it would be best for everyone if her sorting ceremony were as public as the first years, so please. Join me in welcoming Y/N Jones.”

The hand left your shoulder and you looked up, taking in another nervous breath as you watched McGonagall place her hand on one of the doors, nodding to you to motion that it was time before pushing the doors open. You forced your face to remain neutral, and straightened your back as you walked alone up to the Headmaster in the front of the room.

The sound of your shoes hitting the stone floor caused your anxiety to rise again, but you pushed it down, forcing yourself to keep your head high and act like you knew you belonged here. You stopped in front of the stool placed at the top of the steps and turned, sitting down on it and effectively silencing the whispers that had been floating around the Great Hall.

The headmaster (god, what was his name again?) raised a dusty old witches hat and placed it on your head. The brim of the hat slipped over your eyes, and an older sounding voice resounded in your head, mulling over where to place you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fred and George had fully expected this year’s welcoming feast to go like all of the others. Cheer when the first years were sorted (booing when it was into Slytherin, of course), boo again when the new DADA teacher was announced, and then gorge themselves as they planned the perfect way to sneak puking pastilles into Draco Malfoys food (it never worked). However, they were both pleasantly and utterly surprised when Dumbledore announced a new transfer student. Hogwarts had never really had a transfer student, at least while they were there.

Fred turned to George and elbowed him slightly, a half smirk on his face. “Maybe we’ll have another gullible second year to talk into insulting Snape, eh George?”

George grinned as he swallowed a quick swig of pumpkin juice. “Maybe so Freddie.”

However, as the doors to the Great Hall opened and you walked through, all thoughts of pranking left the boys’ heads. You carried yourself like you were the only one meant to be here, and like the others were new students embarking on your domain, and it drew the boys’ full attention. They only remembered to pick up their jaws when you sat down on the stool to be sorted.

Ron, who had noticed their strange reaction, tried to get their attention through a poorly hushed whisper, but to no avail. The twins were too focused on what house you were going to be sorted into.

It felt almost foolish to hope that you would be a Gryffindor, but hope they did. They waited with baited breath as the Sorting Hat took its sweet, sweet time. After what felt like an eternity, the hat had finally reached it’s verdict.

“Slytherin!” The voice rang out through the Great Hall, and the Slytherins cheered as their flag was momentarily displayed on the walls of the Hall. The twins felt their heart sink as they kept their eyes on your form, watching you as you walked over to the Slytherin table and sat down in between the first years and older house members.

“Oi! Fred! George!” Ron exclaimed, exasperated as he gave up on catching his brothers attention. “Bloody hell! It’s like I don’t even exist!”

Next to him, Hermione giggled knowingly, shaking her head at Ron.

“Oh? Have you got something to say now?” Ron asked, turning his face towards Hermione.

She sighed and shook her head again. “You really are incredibly dense sometimes Ron.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You had spent the remainder of the feast politely talking to your fellow house members, answering their questions and asking some of your own. It seemed that they were all either in awe due to your transfer, or in disbelief once they found out that you were American. Quite honestly, you couldn’t blame them. Yet your anxiety kept you from speaking about it, and instead had you hesitantly picking at the comfort food that had magically appeared on your plate once you had sat down.

After the feast was done, you were escorted to your room and introduced to your roommates by a prefect whom had asked you multiple times (despite your constant assurances) if you needed a tour of the castle itself. You settled into your room quite easily, introducing yourself to the girls and exchanging pleasantries before unpacking your trunk and getting your belongings situated. One girl, Pansy you believed, seemed particularly kind to you, and you made a mental note to get to know her better.

Before you knew it, you were fast asleep in your bed, wrapped in the comfortable blankets that had been provided and assuring yourself that tomorrow would yield only positives.

~~~~~

The next day had indeed started out well. You woke up on time and were able to find your classes easily, and you were also praised by Professor Sprout for your extensive knowledge in Herbology. However, things took a small turn for the worst went you entered Defense Against the Dark Arts.

The first thing you noticed was the teacher in the front of the room, watching with beady eyes as students casually found their way to desks and friends. Her monochrome outfit looked awful, having the likeness of a pattern you swore you saw on your grandmother’s couch once, and had given her a look that, quite plainly, reminded you of a toad.

The second thing you noticed was the fact that the seats were filling up, and quickly. Scurrying towards the closest open seat, you ended up next to a girl with unruly hair and a red and yellow tie. She smiled kindly at you as you sat down, and you returned the action before returning your eyes to the front of the room.

“Ordinary Wizarding Level Examinations, more commonly known as O.W.L.S.” The teacher spoke, seeming to punctuate every word of her sentence with a pause as the blackboard behind her wrote what she had spoken.

“Study hard, and you will be rewarded. Fail to do so, and the consequences may be, severe.” She smiled, a tight lipped sort of smile that let everyone know she was faking it. With a wave of her wand the stacks of books behind her began to float down the aisles, distributing themselves amongst the students.

“Your previous instruction on this subject has been, disturbingly, uneven.” You looked down as a book placed itself on your desk, pulling a face as you saw the cover and began to flip through it.

“But you’ll be pleased to know that from now on you’ll be following a carefully constructed, Ministry approved course of defensive magic.” The girl next you did the same, and raised her hand.

“Yes?” the professor called on her.

“There’s nothing in here about using defensive spells?” she said, the confusion evident in her voice and mirroring the confusion on everyone else’s faces.

“Using spells?” The professor laughed, walking closer towards your table. “Well I can’t imagine why you would need to use spells in my classroom!”

“We’re not gonna use magic?” a redhead boy piped up, turning the book over in his hands.

“You’ll be learning about defensive spells in a secure, risk-free way,” the professor replied, her annoyingly ‘girly’ voice already seeming to get on your nerves.

“Well what use is that?” A brunette boy who looked shockingly similar to Harry Potter asked. “If we’re going to be attacked it won’t be ‘risk free’.”

“Students will raise their hands when they speak in my class!” The professor said, her nerves evidently already frazzled as she raised her voice. The brunette boy sat back in his seat (No seriously. He could make money as a Harry look-alike) , obviously on edge as the professor took a moment to turn around and address the class again.

“It is the view of the ministry, that a theoretical knowledge would be sufficient to get you through your examinations which after all, is what school is all about.”

“And how are theories supposed to prepare us for what’s out there?” the brunette boy asked again, sharing a look with his table partner who had spoken up earlier.

“There is nothing out there dear,” the professor replied, and at this, you couldn’t hold back a scoff. The professor whipped her head in your direction, and a few classmates turned to look at you.

You looked up and swallowed thickly, your eyes meeting the professors. “I mean, I could be wrong, but wasn’t there a basilisk within the school a few years ago? That kind of seems like something ‘out there’.”

The professor stuttered, and a few eyes widened around the classroom. “Ex-cuse me?” she said, taking a step towards your desk.

“I’m just saying that there are certain undeniable dangers. Especially around this school, it seems.” You paused, hands fiddling with your robes under the table in a nervous habit that you hadn’t quite seemed to kick just yet.

“Lying, Miss Jones, will get you nowhere.” The professor fired back, a tight-lipped smile plastered on her face.

“She’s not lying,” the brunette fired back. “There are present dangers out in the world. Like, oh, I don’t know. Lord Voldemort.”

The entire class went silent at his comment, some turning to glare at him with barely disguised hatred and others suddenly finding their desks and books to be the most interesting thing in the room.

The professor, after taking a moment to recover of course, changed directions in order to walk towards the brunettes desk. “Now that, is a lie.” She replied in a dangerously low tone.

“Oh, so I suppose that Cedric Diggory dropped dead of his own accord then?” he replied in an accusatory manner. Gasps rose up from the class, disgust now evident in most of your classmates faces.

“Cedric Diggory’s death was an unfortunate accident-”

“No it wasn’t! Voldemort killed him! I watched it -”

“That is enough Mr. Potter!” The professor yelled, losing her composure suddenly. The dead quiet settled over the class again as she smoothed down her skirt. “Potter, Jones, please see me for detention after classes today.” She said simply, before turning around and starting the days lesson as if the entire exchange had never occurred.

You sat at your desk, absolutely dumbfounded. You had had no intention of speaking up in class, much less saying something apparently so controversial that it warranted a detention. Yet here you were, in your now decidedly least favorite class with your most recently least favorite teacher. How did you manage to get yourself into these situations?

The brunette next to you looked over with a small look of sympathy whilst your fellow Slytherins shared a not so subtle haughty laugh in the corner of the room. You sunk low in your seat, making up your mind indefinitely that speaking in class was completely off the table now.

Thankfully, the class passed without any further altercations, and you nearly sighed with relief when it ended. You gathered up your items, shoving the new (and frankly quite stupid) DADA book into your bag and turning to make a beeline for the door.

The brunette who had offered her sympathy earlier in the class spoke before you could leave the desk though. “Thank you for speaking up. For Harry I mean. Not a lot of people would do that, especially now.”

You looked up, slightly confused. “What do you mean?”

She returned your look. “Did you not hear?”

“Hear about what?” The two of you had slowly made your way to Umbridge’s door, lest you incite her wrath twice in the same day.

The brunette was about to answer when the redhead who had spoken earlier wrapped his arm over her shoulder in a protective matter. “Is this Slytherin bothering you Hermione?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at you in what you assumed was his best glare (honestly it wasn’t very good).

You furrowed your eyebrows and took a step back. “Excuse me?”

“I said,” he stepped in front of Hermione and crossed his arms, “is this snake bothering you?”

“Oh honestly Ronald!” Hermione cried out from behind him, grabbing his arm and pushing him out of the classroom door. She threw an apologetic smile over her shoulder at you before turning back to Ron and smacking the back of his head.

You stifled a laugh at the look on his face and shook your head as you headed the opposing way down the corridor, not entirely paying attention to your surroundings as you double checked your schedule for the third time that day.

Moments later you were sprawled out on the corridor floor, having collided with two people who had apparently been running at breakneck speed. You groaned and picked yourself up to a sitting position, looking over at the other two boys currently thrown over one another. Great. More redheads.

Despite your better judgement, you gently kicked one of them with your foot after picking yourself fully up off of the floor. “Hey, are you guys alright?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fred and George were royally screwed. Fucked, if you will.

They hadn’t planned to quite literally body slam you in the corridors whilst running away from Filch after setting off dung bombs in his office, it had just. . . happened. And quite unfortunately, at that.

George rolled over and off of his brother as he felt your foot kick him, looking up at you with what he hoped to Merlin was a dashing smile as he suppressed whatever copious amounts of pain that he was feeling in that moment. “Barely, but I suppose we’ll manage. Right Freddie?” He asked, looking down at his brother who was still planted face first into the stone floor.

“Speak for yourself oh brother dearest,” he sarcastically replied as he peeled himself from the stone.

“Weasley’s!” Filch yelled from down the corridor, running full speed (or as well as he could) towards them, students wrinkling their noses in disgust and turning away as he passed them.

“And that,” Fred said, offering George a hand up, “would be our cue to leave.”

Both twins offered you crooked grins, George even going as far as saluting you, before they dashed off through the corridors, quite possibly traveling faster than they had when they’d ran into you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You watched them, thoroughly amused despite being tackled, and bent down to pick up the paper schedule that had fallen from your hands. As you reached down, you noticed a larger and much thicker parchment next to yours. You grabbed both and looked closer at the thicker parchment, watching with amazement as what seemed to be a map of the school faded away into nothing.

You looked back up at the boys just in time to see them turn a corner and disappear from sight. It appeared as though you’d have to return their tricky map to them another time.

Smiling at the thought of interacting with the chaotic individuals again, you headed off towards Divination.

Add yourself to my taglist here

#Harry Potter #dolores umbridge #fred weasley #george wealsey x reader #george weasley #fred weasley x reader #pansy parkinson #Draco Malfoy #weasleys wizard wheezes #weasley twins #fred and goerge weasley #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #dumbledore #minerva mcgonagall #snape

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rareficsnstuff · 4 years ago

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Not-so-hot Chocolate [Bokuto, Akaashi]

This was a ride. My high school laptop is finally kaput so I had to resort to mobile to post this (*whispers* I'veneverpostedonmobilehowthehelldoesthisshitworksomeoneplzhelp). Anyways! Merry super belated Christmas and happy new year, @danibby, I hope this is what you wanted!! And thanks @ticklygiggles for hosting and allowing my disaster self to be a part of this for the first time ever! Despite all the road blocks, it was really fun!

Summary: Bokuto and Akaashi are out trying to buy some gifts for their teammates, but in true Bokuto fashion, he forgot something of minor importance and now he has to deal with the consequences… or Akaashi does???

Words: 2039

“Akaashiiiii ~!” Bokuto whined for the umpteenth time since they had met up that night.

��Not my fault, Bokuto. You knew we’d be outside; you should have thought ahead,” said Akaashi flatly, who was trying hard to contain his building irritation with his Captain.

“But I didn’t think it would be this cold ~”

Akaashi stopped dead in his tracks, turning slowly to face Bokuto. “Bokuto,… it’s snowing…” His tone was threaded with bored incredulity and his eyes had widened a bit in borderline disgust.

“W-well yeah, but-… I-I just… Akaaaaashiiii ~! My hands are so coooold!”

“That sounds like a ‘you’ problem…” Bokuto groaned miserably at this less-than-friendly reply, head rolling back and shoulders sagging to allow his arms to dangle; like a child. “C’mon, we’ve still got half the team to buy gifts for. We can get some hot chocolate or something after the next couple of stores in this section,” Akaashi bargained.

“Lemme borrow your gloves!”

“No.”

“We can trade off!”

“No.”

“Akaaaashiiii ~!” Dammit.

“Fine! We can get hot chocolate now, just calm down!” Bokuto’s face had twisted into a juvenile pout but at the promise of a hot beverage to warm his hands, his eyebrows lifted hopefully and his golden eyes were practically sparkling. There was a definite bounce to his step now as the two headed towards the welcoming glow of cozy little café on the shopping strip.

Some time later, they were back on their way, looking through shop windows and discussing options of what to get their teammates as they nursed their steaming cocoa.

“Akaashi, let’s take a break and go over there to finish our hot chocolate!” Bokuto exclaimed, pointing excitedly to an empty park across the street with his cocoa-free hand. Akaashi nodded agreement and the two head over, perching themselves in a half-sitting-half-standing position against the back of one of the benches. “Watch this, Akaashi!” said Bokuto suddenly. Akaashi looked up at him, lazily expectant, as Bokuto drew an arm back and launched his now empty cup at a garbage bin four feet away. The cup bounced off the outer rim, sending it directly into the basket with a soft clatter. “WOOOH!” Bokuto cheered.

“Nice shot.”

“I know, right!” Although, Bokuto had ordered the largest size of hot chocolate, he had finished long before Akaashi who had gone with two sizes smaller. The younger still had the last half to drink but Bokuto didn’t seem to mind waiting for his setter. Until…

“Akaashiii ~” Oh god…

Knowing what was coming, Akaashi only hummed in response.

“My hands are cold again ~”

“Move around. It’ll help keep your body temp up.” And Bokuto began humorously trotting around his setter, rolling his shoulders and desperately rubbing his hands to keep warm. “With you size and build, I would have expected you to be the type to always be hot…” Akaashi drawled, ignoring Bokuto’s prancing and staring straight ahead. Secretly, he was trying not to smile. Why was Bokuto always such a goof?

“Common misconception… “ Bokuto had paused and mumbled to himself, “Was that the right term?” One corner of Akaashi’s mouth twitched. “I get real hot in the summer n’ stuff, but it’s the reverse in winter. It’s like my body just absorbs whatever temperature it is outside at the time… It sucks.” Bokuto pouted, still keeping up with his prancing as he moved to circle Akaashi for some diversity in his pattern.

Wow. Akaashi sure was taking his sweet time with that hot chocolate. Hadn’t he finished yet? Bokuto eyed him somewhat impatiently from the corner of his eye as he jogged circle after circle around him. When he was directly behind him after his twelfth circle, he stopped, jogging in place as his eyes practically burned holes into Akaashi’s back.

“GMMHmm!” Akaashi choked. He had been in the middle of another sip of his rapidly cooling chocolate when he felt Bokuto cram his wide hands in the slots between his arms and ribs. With a struggle, he had managed not to spew it onto the snow at his feet and swallowed it a bit painfully down his throat, stone-faced composure quickly back in place. Slowly, he turned his head to meet his captain’s wide, golden eyes. Bokuto’s expression was innocently expectant; he looked at Akaashi with raised eyebrows, glittering eyes and a pleasant – albeit dopey – smile. “What are you doing…” Akaashi said, barely even as a question; almost daring him to answer.

“I thought it might help, but your coat’s so thick your body heat doesn’t seep through like I’d hoped.” Bokuto’s brows furrowed in thought and Akaashi rolled his eyes before he took another sip of cocoa. He decided it had been too long a day to care and simply allowed his Senpai to stand there with his hands on his ribcage as he nonchalantly polished off his not-so-hot-chocolate. “OOooo- wait a minute, I’ve got a better idea!” Bokuto exclaimed making Akaashi jump, half turning his head to the elder.

“W-whoa, whoa- hey! No!” he spluttered, quickly stepping out of Bokuto’s reach and spinning around to face him, slightly crouched in a defensive stance and brandishing his nearly empty cup like some kind of hilariously pathetic makeshift shield.

“But, Akaaaashiii ~ my hands are so coooold ~!” Aaaand the whining was back.

“Stick your hands up your own shirt, then?”

“Akaashi. My hands are cold,” said Bokuto concisely, looking at Akaashi with a maddeningly incredulous expression. “If I put them under my shirt, I might as well take off my coat and lay in the snow…”

“Bokuto- “

“Oh c’mon, Akaashi, just for a second! You can warm back up really quick!”

“No, Bokuto.” Despite Akaashi’s insistence, Bokuto was advancing on him. “Bokuto, No! This is your own fault for not bringing gloves! Leave me alone!” And they were off. Using the bench as a protective barrier between them, they moved in sync from one end to the other, Akaashi tying to escape and Bokuto tying to head him off. In a flash, all in one movement, Bokuto had snatched the cup from Akaashi’s hand, set it on the bench and grabbed his Kohai’s now empty hand to pull him into his chest. There was a short-lived squabble in which Akaashi was trying to keep Bokuto’s hands out of his coat and nearly caught the larger man’s wrists but he slipped out at the last second.

“AAAAaaa!!” Oh wow, Bokuto was right… His hands were cold.

“See? Cold, right?” Bokuto’s grip on Akaashi’s sides tightened when the setter gripped his arms for dear life and began tugging and squirming to get away. “This is a lot warmer, though.” And when – god knows why – Bokuto trailed his hands up to his ribs and began rubbing them lightly up and down (for the warmth of the friction, he supposed), he panicked.

“Bokuto! Bokuto- no- please! L-let me go! Pleahese!” Shit.

Bokuto’s hands stopped and Akaashi froze.

“Are you laughing?”

“No.” Damn! That reply was way too quick.

“No, no you were- … Oh wait, I get it! Akaashi, you’re ticklish!” There was no room for refute in that statement; Bokuto had made that conclusion and the only way to change his mind was to physically prove him wrong. No chance of that happening, though. If he didn’t escape now, right now, Bokuto was going to tickle him and he was going to react like any ticklish person would. There was no helping that; he was ticklish after all. Very ticklish.

“Let me go!” he said rather than denying it. He struggled harder than ever when Bokuto rapped his arms around his waist and he was really starting to feel the threat now.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” Oh god, Akaashi could hear the excited grin in his voice and there was no way he was getting out of his gorilla arms. Still with his hands under his coat, Bokuto began softly kneading into his ribs. A choked giggle slipped through before he could stop it and his only defense now was to press his elbows into his sides, hoping to squish Bokuto’s wiggling fingers.

“No, please dohon’t!” Dammit, don’t laugh; this was so embarrassing.

“Oh c’mon, Akaashi, just laugh, will ya? How come I didn’t know about this, huh?” Akaashi was about to loose it. If this kept up much longer- oh…

“Haaaaha! W-wait- aaAAAhahahaaaa!” Bokuto had only been scribbling at the sides of his ribs as he held him like a human straight jacket, but now he had started rubbing deep circles into his ribs, adding the last straw to break the camel’s back and there was absolutely no chance at stopping the laughter now.

“Yeah, there ya go! And- and my hands are finally warming up! Wow you’re really ticklish, Akaashi! What about here?” Akaashi couldn’t tell if Bokuto was teasing him or just making conversation, but it was pretty hard to read the guy right now anyways; he was a bit preoccupied with something else.

“AH- NAHo! B-bokutohohohahahaa! Bohokuto- pleahese- NAHA!” No amount of squishing his elbows into his sides was going to stop the upward journey of Bokuto’s fingers. And now they were under his arms, wriggling tirelessly and driving Akaashi mad. He lunged forward like his life depended on it, twisting any way he could. Oh good, now he was crying, too… Holy hell it tickled so bad, thank god there was no one around!

“You’re so wiggly, Akaashi!” Bokuto was laughing too now. He had never seen Akaashi like this; lively and desperate. Sure he could get into it during a volleyball game, and if it wasn’t going well, he would get pretty high strung and snap occasionally, but this was different. Red-cheeked and teary-eyed while he laughed his heart out; laughing harder than Bokuto had ever heard him laugh before. He couldn’t help but laugh with him.

When he moved one hand down goose at his hip, Akaashi wheezed and lurched forward, slipping out of Bokuto’s grip a little and making the ace loose his balance.

“AhahaHAHAA! NAho NAHAT Thahahat! Bokuto, PLEAHEEEEhese!” Bokuto barked a laugh at Akaashi’s whiney plea. He added his other hand to his other hip and Akaashi squealed – a sound Bokuto never thought he would hear from his Kohai – before he wheezed himself into silent laughter, finally toppling out of Bokuto’s grip and falling onto the powdery snow on his hands and knees with Bokuto following. He was rolling in the snow, pawing weakly at Bokuto’s hands and completely unable to speak now when the torture suddenly stopped.

Akaashi opened bleary eyes to see Bokuto sitting crisscross in the snow, hands in his lap and grinning goofily down at him. Akaashi chuckled again, rolling onto his back and looking up into the sky with a goofy smile of his own.

“You suck.” Akaashi said, tipping Bokuto into a roaring laugh. “Are your hands still cold?” he asked, a teasing edge to his voice as he looked at Bokuto from the corner of his eye. There was a pause…

“Maybe…” he finally said with a grin Akaashi did not like.

“Wait- No!” Faster than he believed he could, Akaashi had jumped to his feet and took several steps back from his Captain who was now also climbing to his feet, still with that expression that Akaashi decided he definitely hated. “We- we still have shopping to do! This can- this can wait until later, Bokuto!” he shouted desperately when Bokuto started advancing on him. Bokuto laughed again.

“Later, huh? You’re right, we should finish getting the team gifts… but I’m gonna hold you to that ‘later’ thing.” He reached back to grab Akaashi’s not-so-hot chocolate and handed it to him with a clap on the back and a rather threatening wink before he lead the way back across the street to the shopping strip.

Feeling stunned, Akaashi stood there slack-jawed holding the nearly empty cup in his hand as he watched Bokuto’s retreating figure. He tipped the last of his cocoa down his throat, tossed it into the garbage bin and forced a steadying breath which he released in a terrified huff.

Shit. Maybe if he dragged the shopping out long enough, Bokuto would forget about this…

Shit.

#Squealingsanta2k20 #Squealing Santa 2k20 #SS2K20 #haikyuu!!#tickle fic #bokuto kotarou #akaashi keiji

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miracleonice87 · 4 years ago

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’tis the damn season

an Auston Matthews song fic

a/n: based on the absolute masterpiece that is ’tis the damn season by Taylor Swift from evermore. This one was not on my WIP list but came over me as soon as I heard the song when the album dropped. also have no idea how it became my longest piece yet, by far (as in 12k+ whoops). obviously, I do not own any of the music/lyrics to this song nor any other I write about.

summary: Auston Matthews and his ex-girlfriend are reunited in their hometown years after their difficult breakup.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, allusions to sex, a delicate balance of angst and fluff. a bit of a slow burn, if you want to call it that.

_____

You might have been one of the few people on the planet who disagreed with the phrase, “There’s no place like home for the holidays.” At least, for the last few years, that hadn’t exactly been your sentiment.

But, you were home anyway, after a few weeks of your mother’s guilt tripping and your father’s repeated phone calls. And, admittedly, you were enjoying your quiet time at home with your parents.

After helping your mom bake a few dozen cookies for the Christmas Eve party they were throwing tomorrow night, you wandered upstairs to your childhood bedroom to change out of your flour-covered attire and maybe squeeze in a nap. An undeniable perk of staying with your parents during the holidays — so many opportunities to sleep. As you pulled on a well-worn, long-sleeved ASU t-shirt you found hanging in your closet, your phone rang.

You groaned and swore to yourself that if it was your editor again, you were quitting. She’d already interrupted your time off at least once throughout each of your three days at home thus far — your first week of vacation in the two and a half years you’d been with the fashion magazine. You rolled your eyes and reached for the sounding device on your bed, then recoiled when you saw the contact name — or rather, initials — on the screen.

Oh, god.

Even worse, the years-old contact photo popped up behind the name — a picture of the two of you lying together on the shore on your vacation four years ago, right after the draft, when you both still held onto the naive belief that nothing that had just happened in his world would change things between the two of you.

“Shit,” you whispered, covering your mouth while anxiety coursed through your veins.

You couldn’t just not answer. Right? The two of you were on decent terms, though you couldn’t quite remember the last time you’d spoken — probably seven, eight months ago. You had no good reason to ignore his call.

And after all... you were the one who had ended things.

You cleared your throat and, trying to coach yourself into mustering up some semblance of courage, quickly repeated, “Okay, okay, okay, okay.” Then, like ripping off a bandaid, you hurriedly tapped the green button and pressed the phone to your ear.

“Matthews,” you greeted curtly — tentatively.

“Kels. Come over,” Auston said abruptly, though you could hear the smile in his voice. “I know you’re home.”

You squinted and glanced around your room, racking your brain as you tried to figure out how exactly your ex-boyfriend knew your current whereabouts.

“What?” you asked, puzzled, not to mention slightly shocked that he was even interested in seeing you in person — though some part of you was, indeed, grateful for that. “How did you even know I was in Scottsdale?”

“Uh, your Instagram story, my dear,” he said, obviously amused. “You posted this morning from that new coffee shop between the Methodist church and our old school building. Remember?”

You rubbed a hand over your face, suddenly regretting adding him to your close friends list on Instagram six weeks ago after a few glasses of wine with your girlfriends.

“Fuck,” you muttered under your breath, eliciting a chuckle from Auston.

“Yeah, don’t flatter yourself thinking I sit around and stalk you, sweetheart,” he teased. “I thought about replying but I didn’t wanna slide into your DMs and look like a fuckboy.” He paused, and you opened your mouth to make a halfhearted wisecrack that you didn’t truly mean, but before you could speak, he added, “Plus you probably get so many DMs, I’m sure mine would just get lost in the shuffle.”

Again, you rolled your eyes. “Matthews,” you repeated, whinier now.

“C’mon, Kels. Just come over,” he whined back. “I just got in last night. I’m staying at my parents’ house. My sisters nearly busted down my door when they saw you were back in town, plus I know my mom and dad would love to see you.”

Suddenly, two decades’ worth of memories that you had long ago pushed to the back of your mind flooded all at once to the forefront of your consciousness. Sleepovers watching Disney Channel movies and eating peach rings with Alex and Brey. Brian scooping you up in his arms after a nasty tumble off your bike on their street, propping you on the kitchen counter as he bandaged the scrapes on your knees, Auston never leaving your side nor letting go of your hand. Road trips with Ema to watch Auston play in countless tournaments, with you doing homework in the front seat while Ema sang along to the radio. Matthews family dinners eating Ema’s famous chicken tortilla soup. Vacations and carpool and pickup basketball games and shopping for prom dresses and just the mundane, everyday routine you had been part of for so many years.

And those were just the memories that involved his sisters, his parents. You didn’t dare let your mind uncover the buried memories of him, and him alone.

You missed them. Sometimes you missed them all so much that it made your heart physically ache and your stomach drop and your mouth go dry.

So, you drew a long, deep breath, and against your better judgment, eventually said, “Okay. Fine. But you have to send me your parents’ address. I haven’t been to the new Matthews McMansion.”

Auston huffed on the other end. “So mean to me.”

_____

It was certainly a far cry from the modest old ranch-style house where Auston had spent his childhood.

As you pulled up to the sprawling estate in the bougie part of town and cut your engine, you whispered, “What the fuck am I doing here...”

And still, after a quick check of your makeup in your rearview mirror, you got out of the car, closed your door and pushed your sunglasses to the top of your head, sighing as you took in the four vehicles parked in front of yours in the roundabout driveway, none of which you had ever seen before. Audi, Mercedes, BMW, Porsche. Well, you could guess which one was Auston’s.

You walked up the stone sidewalk and slipped your aviators into your purse — it was only then that you noticed that your hands were trembling.

You cleared your throat and exhaled sharply, willing your nerves to subside, as you arrived at the door and pressed the button on its frame, sounding an elaborate chime inside.

“I got it,” you immediately heard a familiar voice call, and you took a startled step backward as you saw his figure approaching through the decorative glass panes outlining the doorway. As he pulled open the door, the flutter you’d tried your hardest to avoid feeling for three years took flight once more in your belly.

“Matthews,” you greeted again, arms crossed in front of you in hopes of hiding your shaking hands.

“Why’d ya bother to ring the doorbell, you nutjob?” Auston asked with a broad smile.

Before you could throw a snide remark back at him, he pulled you into himself, one arm snaking around your mid-back and the other hand cradling your head to his chest. Inadvertently, you exhaled contentedly, and you swore you felt Auston tighten his grip on you then. Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let yourself relax into him for longer than you had intended. He just felt so… familiar. Broad. Strong. Comforting.

He was just… Auston. A thousand things had changed for the two of you, but the way you felt in his presence hadn’t changed since you were a little girl.

You inhaled his cologne, and you noticed that he was doing just the same — breathing in your long-worn Chanel No. 5 perfume, the same kind he used to save up all year to buy you each Christmas.

At that memory, you snapped back to reality and extricated yourself from his embrace, leaving him looking slightly disappointed, though still pleased with your greeting.

“Hi,” you spoke simply as you stared up at him, then chuckled at how stupid that sounded.

“Hi,” he mimicked, head bobbling and eyes widening, causing you both to fall into a giddy fit of nervous laughter over nothing at all.

Just then, you saw Ema’s head pop out from beneath an arched opening toward the back of the house — probably leading to the kitchen, you assumed. Ema was always in the kitchen.

“I thought I heard your laugh,” she sang. You couldn’t help but beam, and Auston smiled and moved out of your way so that you had a direct pathway to his mother. Taking advantage of that, you made a beeline for the petite woman you considered your second mom, already feeling emotion bubbling up in your throat as tears blurred your vision.

“Oh, mija,” Ema said, her voice tight as she met you in the middle of the grand entryway and gathered you into her arms. “Te extrañamos,” (we miss you) she said sincerely.

Auston cupped the back of his neck and quickly looked away then, fearful that he may just shed tears of his own.

You sniffled and murmured, “Los extrañé a todos mucho,” (I missed you all so much) into Ema’s shoulder as she smoothed her hand lovingly over the back of your head.

When you finally parted, moving past the brief sadness of the reunion, Ema still held tightly to your hands, extending her arms so that she could see you better.

“You look more beautiful than ever!” she exclaimed, and you dropped your head bashfully at her compliment. “California is treating you well.”

You nodded. “For the most part,” you remarked with a sigh. Ema glanced quickly from your face to her son’s and back again, deciding not to dwell for too long on that loaded response.

“Well,” she pivoted with a click of her tongue. “You look great. Now come, come! I know Auston’s going to want to steal you away from me, not that I blame him, but I just put on some tea, so let’s sit and have some first.”

“Ma…” Auston protested lightheartedly. Ema wagged her finger at him. “Shh! Mijo! My long lost daughter has returned. Give me ten minutes for a cup of tea with her.”

Auston’s lips parted at her use of the word “daughter,” not that he should have been surprised by it, and you tossed him an animated shrug as Ema pulled you down the hallway back from whence she came. You were right — it was the kitchen, and it was a spectacular one at that.

“Holy…” you trailed off as Ema patted one of the leather barstools at the enormous island in the center of the room. You took a seat, pulling your cross body bag from your shoulder and placing it on the island, and commented, “This kitchen is incredible, Ema. I’m sure you love spending time here.”

Ema nodded and excitedly launched into stories of using all the appliances and gadgets she had never owned before, walking back to the teakettle on the stove as Auston sat down on the nearest barstool, feeling as though he could simply be dreaming, hallucinating, that you were here, sitting with him in his parents’ kitchen. But when you noticed him taking the seat next to yours, you tossed him a classic Kelsey smile and nudged his shoulder with your own, and he felt just slightly more confident that this was reality. Unable to resist your magnetism, which hadn’t faded with time but seemed instead to have only grown stronger, he squeezed your knee beneath the countertop, just as Ema approached with a cup of tea in hand for you.

Choosing to react instead to Ema rather than her son, you grinned and thanked her, feeling Auston’s eyes on you as you lifted the mug to your lips and took small sips, Ema still prattling on happily from the other side of the kitchen. You eventually cast a sidelong glance Auston’s way, accompanied by an amused smirk, the combination of which left him beaming as he looked away from you and back toward his mother, who now approached with two more cups of tea.

“Thanks, Ma,” he said as he wrapped his hands around the mug she offered him.

“You’re welcome, mijo,” Ema replied. “Now Kelsey, honey, how long are you in town?”

“Uh, just until the day after Christmas,” you replied, swirling a finger along the ceramic rim of your mug. “This is the most time I’ve taken off since I started at the magazine,” you admitted with a hint of embarrassment.

Ema nodded. “Your mother said you haven’t made it home for a while. I know they keep you pretty busy there. Is that why you don’t visit so much?” she asked unassumingly.

Auston dropped his head and shuffled his feet awkwardly against the tile floor, and your eyes flickered to him as you racked your brain for an answer that wasn’t a complete lie but also didn’t unmask the whole truth — which was that being in a town that held so much history with your ex was simply too suffocating to bear, even for a quick visit with your parents. So, you typically just stayed in California where you could throw yourself into your work as a fashion writer at a well-known publication and operate under the illusion that you had moved on. From Scottsdale, from Auston, from your life before Los Angeles.

And especially from Toronto.

But the problem was, when the night fell and the lights all faded and you were left to face the truth, you knew in your heart that that’s really all it was — an illusion.

And from 2,500 miles away, Auston knew it, too. He knew it because he was living the same lie.

“Uh, yeah,” you replied sheepishly. “That’s the gist of it. Just, uh, just hard to get away sometimes. My parents usually come out to visit me instead since their schedules are, uh, a little more flexible.”

“Right,” Ema said skeptically as you took a long pull from your mug, despite the hot liquid singing your tongue and making your eyes water. “Well, either way, it’s so good to finally see you here,” she added warmly.

“It’s good to see you too,” you breathed, honesty dripping from that answer.

Auston finally looked at you again, giving you an understanding smile. Even that smallest of gestures made you dizzy.

“So,” you said as you moved away from the topic, sitting up a bit straighter. “Where are the girls? Where’s Brian?”

“Golfing,” Auston answered. “Like always,” he added with a chuckle.

“Why am I not surprised?” you teased, making both Ema and Auston laugh.

“They begged Auston to come with them, but he turned them down,” Ema informed you. “And now we know why.” She lifted her eyebrows and took another sip of her tea as Auston shook his head.

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” he joked. “But no, they’ll be back soon. They can’t wait to see you.”

You brightened at that, not having seen the Matthews girls in nearly as long as it had been since you’d seen Auston himself, finding it easier to breathe when they weren’t nearby, reminding you of him with their every mannerism. And yet, you’d found that starving yourself of their friendship and their company ached nearly just as much.

“I can’t wait either,” you said through a distant smile.

“And Dad will probably cry more than Mom did when he sees you,” Auston predicted, lifting his mug. Ema swatted at his arm.

“Don’t start with me!” she warned. “I happened to see you choking up out there, too.”

You turned to Auston and raised an accusing brow at him. He simply chuckled into his tea and looked away, and the three of you sat in silence for a beat.

“Come on,” he finally said as he rested his mug on the island, nodding his head in the direction of the sliding glass door at the back of the house. “Lemme show you the patio.”

You nodded, knowing full well that showing off the backyard was not the real reason he was inviting you outside. Despite that knowledge, you hopped off the barstool, put your mug in the sink, and kissed Ema on the cheek as you passed her.

“Thanks for the tea, mamacita,” you said with a smile, squeezing her shoulders. “Anytime, mi amor,” she replied, sending a wink your way as you turned to follow Auston.

He slid open the door and motioned for you to step through it first. When he saw his mother watching you through the kitchen window, he gave her a knowing smirk, and she put her hands up in innocence. But as she watched you two walk out onto the patio through the glass, she breathed a silent prayer to any higher power who would listen that maybe, just maybe, you would finally come home.

Not to Scottsdale, no. Home to Auston.

Meanwhile, you were trailing your hand along the hammock near the pool, taking in the scene and trying to remember to breathe. When you heard him close the door, you turned back to Auston, your eyes floating around the backyard.

“Nice setup they’ve got back here,” you grinned, Auston chuckling with his hands shoved into the pockets of his shorts.

“Yeah, it’s even nicer in the summer,” he commented. You nodded, stepping closer to the pool and lowering yourself to sit on the edge, patting the space next to you as an invitation for Auston to do the same.

“We have chairs, ya know,” he grumbled as he took a seat. “Not all of us like to sit on the floor all day doing yoga.”

You sneered at him. “Oh, yeah, that’s what I do all day long,” you said sarcastically.

“Well, you used to, anyway,” he mumbled.

You gulped as visions of him watching you do precarious yoga poses on the living room floor of his apartment flickered in your mind’s eye, and then, once again, you moved right along.

“So… how’s it going, Matthews? How’s life?” you prompted, not even sure if you truly wanted to hear the answer to your inquiry.

He stretched out his long legs so that his feet were dangling above the water as he wondered where to even begin.

“It’s… it’s good,” he said. “Overall. It’s nice to be home for a few days. Needed that. I missed it. Missed my family. Missed…” he stopped himself, “…other things,” he added under his breath.

You chewed the inside of your cheek and decided to avoid the path he was taking this down. “How’s hockey?” you asked instead.

Auston shifted noticeably at the mention of his career, still painfully aware that, despite the successes it had brought him, it had ultimately caused the demise of your relationship.

“Hockey is… hockey,” he said. “Honestly it’s good on the whole. But the team’s not having the greatest year so far, which is rough.” You nodded, knowing better than most that the Toronto media operated at a different level of intensity and scrutiny than that of nearly all other markets, especially when the Leafs were losing, and especially when new blood was added into the equation, like Auston’s had been when they drafted him.

Like yours had been when you moved there with him.

The spotlight they shone on you — and the subsequent attention you received from so-called fans who took to the internet to question your intentions and integrity — had been far more than you bargained for.

Just as you were about to ask about how the guys on the team were faring, Auston spoke again.

“I think about calling you every time we come to LA, Kels,” he said, fixing his eyes on the neighbor’s house in the distance because he was simply unable to look at you while he admitted it. With a sniff, he added, “I’m not gonna lie about that.”

“Why don’t you?” you asked after a beat, maybe unfairly, studying his familiar profile. His features were the same, of course, but he looked… more mature. Older. Wiser. All that jazz. Auston shrugged, still not capable of looking at you.

“Just didn’t think you’d want me to,” he answered dejectedly. Your heart sank into your stomach. Given the things you’d said when you left him nearly three years ago, you could hardly blame him for that one.

“Well,” you started with a sigh. “I guess we could call it even then, because I think about coming to see you play every time you come to LA. Or Anaheim. Or even Vegas. And obviously Phoenix.”

“Well why didn’t you just call me asking for free tickets then,” he said in a tone that he tried to disguise as facetious, but you heard the hurt seeping into his words. “Everybody else I know in any NHL city does.”

You felt a fierce sense of protectiveness then, clenching your jaw as you tried to calm your irate thoughts. You watched him pick at the sleeve of his black Raiders crewneck and felt deeply for him — this man you’d loved since he was a little boy.

“Do they really? Still?” you asked in monotone.

Auston nodded, squinting in the sunlight. “Yup,” he answered, popping the ‘p.’ “Every game.”

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, covering your eyes with your hand and pushing into your temples. You blew out a long breath. “Fuck. I’m really sorry about that. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but I… it just sucks.”

Auston shrugged. “It’s not your fault,” he stated. “Sometimes I do it, sometimes I don’t. Kinda depends on whether the person’s actually talked to me lately.”

You nodded as he chuckled sadly, and you felt your chest tighten. “Well,” you began, clearing your throat. “I guess I wouldn’t qualify then because we haven’t talked much.”

Auston looked at you with intensity surging in his deep brown eyes, and you wanted to look away but found that you couldn’t.

“You always qualify,” he said seriously. “You’re one of the only people that qualifies.”

You bit down, hard, on your bottom lip and grappled internally with the weight of his comment. Then he said sarcastically, “Besides, I know you’re only after my money. I mean, you forced me to buy you that Louis bag the week after I got drafted.”

Your jaw dropped at his joke, and you scoffed indignantly. “Oh, yeah, the one you finally had to hide in my closet after I kept sneaking it back into your car because I wanted you to return it?” you corrected. “Yeah, ya caught me. You know me, Aus. Such a gold digger.”

Auston had started laughing halfway through your quip, but stopped suddenly. You gave him a questioning look, and he paused before answering.

“You called me Aus,” he stated with a smile he tried and failed to hide. “You went back to calling me Matthews after we broke up. But you… you just called me Aus again.”

“Yeah, well...” you grumbled, “Don’t get too excited.” You tossed him a smirk and he mirrored it, basking in the comfort of the moment.

“So whaddya think of the place? Not bad, right?” he finally asked, glancing around the property, back at the house, then settling his focus back on you.

You shrugged. “A little gaudy for my taste, but...” you began, and Auston shook his head bemusedly, knowing he set himself up for that one.

“No, it’s great. I can see how much your mom loves it. In all seriousness, I think it’s amazing, everything you’ve done for your family. Your parents. It’s pretty incredible,” you said earnestly. “I don’t think I said it enough when we were together, but, I’m really proud of you, Aus. And I don’t just mean about the hockey.”

Auston nodded soberly, turning his head to look you in the eye.

“I know you don’t,” he said quietly. “Thanks, Kels. It means a lot coming from you. More, uh… more than you know.”

And then, before you could think twice about doing so, you reached out your hand to rest atop his, feeling its familiar warmth as your fingertips grazed the raised veins there. Auston swallowed hard, blinking at where your hands now met, and slowly wrapped your fingers in his, giving them a squeeze. You exchanged long stares before you eventually slammed on the brakes in your brain and carried on.

“So, you just casually hang out with Justin Bieber now?” you asked, reaching your palms behind you and leaning back. “And the wildest shit is that I saw it first when he posted it, not you.”

Auston chuckled, looking down at his slides and — ironically — Drew socks combo. In his signature way, he halted his laughter on a dime and his face turned somber as he said dryly, “Yeah, I’m like really famous now, yanno?”

You sighed in annoyance, rolling your eyes as you looked skyward, feeling Auston’s gaze turn to you. You let it go for a few moments before shifting only your eyes toward his.

“What?” you asked accusingly. You could tell by the faraway smirk on his face that he was lost in a memory.

“Remember you had posters of him hung up all over your room in like middle school? From Tiger Beat magazine and shit? And now I play video games and mini sticks with the guy,” Auston said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, and if you ever tell him about that, I’ll end your life,” you threatened, shoving at his arm and attempting to ignore how much his biceps had grown since you last touched them. And then you were slamming the door shut on a rush of memories of having him beneath your touch — some innocent, but most intimate.

Auston saw it in your eyes — the place you went for a moment — as you dropped your hand back to the concrete beneath you. He knew where you went because, so often, he went there, too.

He held your gaze and promised, “Your secret’s safe with me. You know that.”

Only a hint of a smile graced your lips for a fleeting moment as you ran your fingers through your hair. Suddenly, you felt the heaviness of the history between the two of you closing in — smothering you, like it always did. Auston watched helplessly, wishing it didn’t have to be this hard.

And then, in a flash, like he so often did to save you from your swirling thoughts, he casually changed the topic as he commented, “Your hair’s shorter. You look like your mom. In a good way.”

Blushing, you breathed a laugh through your nose. “Thanks,” you said softly. “I think it’s the highlights, too.”

“It is,” Auston confirmed, and then — damn him — he reached out and looped a lock from the front of your face between his thumb and forefinger, the way he had done a thousand times before, usually mid-conversation, always absentmindedly. This time, you knew, as you forced your eyes to meet his, it was a bit more calculated. “I really like it,” he told you.

You nodded, searching his eyes to try and determine whether he had any idea what this — this moment, this visit, this day — really was.

“If you’re gonna ask me what we’re doing,” Auston spoke, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth for a second, “then I have to tell you I have no idea.”

Again, damn him. After all this time, it was like he still lived inside your brain and had read your every thought like the morning paper before you even had the chance to convey it. Which used to save you in a lot of ways. Now it felt kind of… intrusive. But somehow you didn’t mind.

“I had no idea what I was even gonna say when I called you. All I know,” he continued, still flipping the strand of hair around his fingers, “is that I really wanted to see you, and that I was really happy when you came, and that I’m really enjoying this time with you.”

You nodded, and as he pulled his hand from your face, his thumb brushed your jawline just slightly, and that touch alone sent a bolt of lightning through you. Auston smiled softly as he said barely above a whisper, “Okay, now it’s your turn to say something.”

You heaved a sigh, tipping your head back with eyes closed and soaking in the sunshine. “I don’t expect you to know, Aus,” you finally spoke. “I was just so... so shocked, I guess, that you wanted to see me. It’s been so long, I just... I didn’t know when I would see you again.”

“We’ve talked though,” Auston pointed out with a sigh to match yours, pulling a knee to his chest and wrapping his arms around his bent leg. “FaceTimed. Texted.”

You rolled your head toward him. “It’s not the same,” you reasoned softly, hesitantly reaching out your hand to tuck some of his black hair behind his ear. He licked his lips swiftly and placed a peck to your thumb before you slowly withdrew your hand.

“You’re right,” Auston conceded. “Definitely not the same.”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt...”

You were snapped out of your private moment by one person’s voice and another person’s squeal behind you.

“Oh, my god!” you yelled as you shot up from the side of the pool, Alexandria and Breyana already scampering toward you from the back door.

“It’s about goddamn time you came back to us!” Alex shrieked, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “I missed you, little sister,” she cooed, rubbing her hands across your back, and you hummed in agreement.

“I missed you, Al,” you replied, kissing her temple as you stepped back to greet the youngest of the Matthews clan.

“And you. My baby!” you exclaimed, pulling Breyana into your arms. “The true star athlete of the family,” you teased as she squeezed your waist.

“Damn straight,” Breyana giggled. “I missed you, Kels. I can’t believe you’re here!”

You pulled away, glancing behind you as you saw Auston slowly approaching out of the corner of your eye. “Me either,” you admitted, eyes widening dramatically as the girls snickered at you. “How was golf?”

“Brey smoked us, no surprise,” Alex replied. “But shut up about the golf. Tell us what’s going on with you two.”

“Alex!” Auston warned, shooting her a glare. “Please don’t.”

Alex gave him her best older sister roll of the eyes and crossed her arms over her chest as Breyana looked between the two of you.

“Nope,” Alex refused. “Not until you tell me what’s up. C’mon, spill.”

“We’re just...” you began, swiveling to look Auston’s way as he smirked down at you, happy to let you flounder in this one all on your own. “Visiting,” you finished, nodding once at Alex, pleased with your choice of verbiage.

“Honestly, you guys…” Breyana lamented.

“Visiting, huh?” Alex echoed, growing even more suspicious. “Yeah, okay. Sure. Wear protection. Anyways, uh—“

“Alex!” Auston repeated, this time through clenched teeth. “I swear to god...”

“Anyways, like I was saying,” Alex continued. “Your parents invited us all to their house tomorrow night for the Christmas party. I didn’t think you were gonna be there — does this mean you will?”

You nodded, causing Alex to clap excitedly. “I’ll be there with bells on,” you confirmed. “I already made my shortbread cookies.” All three siblings moaned in delight at the mention of your famous treats.

“Hell yeah! Plus that means we won’t be the only ones escaping to the balcony to drink,” Breyana commented.

“Brey, you’re like twelve,” Auston taunted, earning him a sharp elbow to the ribs from his younger sister. “You don’t get to drink with us.”

“Whatever,” she retorted. “Like you guys weren’t sneaking Mom and Dad’s liquor when you were younger than me.”

“Anyways,” Alex said yet again, clearing her throat. “We’re gonna go back inside now and shower, and just, uh, leave you guys to whatever it is you were doing beside the pool there. ‘Kay? ‘Kay. See ya,” she sang, spinning Breyana by the shoulders and guiding her inside, both girls whispering and giggling all the while. “Kels, I’ll call you tonight — you can tell me all about it!” Alex called over her shoulder, sliding the door closed.

You turned to see a pink tinge to Auston’s cheeks as he muttered, “Sorry,” with a dry laugh. You shook your head.

“No, don’t be,” you insisted, waving him off as you took a seat at the glass picnic table beside you, Auston following your lead. “It wouldn’t be a visit to the Matthews house without Alex torturing the both of us,” you teased.

Auston nodded. “Very true,” he said, and you knew he didn’t want to stop there, but he couldn’t seem to find what he did want to say next.

Instead, you ventured, “So what are your—”

At the very same time, he started, “Kels, would you maybe—”

You both chuckled at yourselves, locking eyes. This certainly wasn’t the first time this had happened in conversations — far from it. And usually, you were about to say the very same thing.

So, you motioned for him to speak first.

He toyed with the band of his watch as he said nervously, “I was just gonna say, uh, would you maybe wanna go to dinner with me? Tonight?”

You sat back in your chair, smirking, fully aware that you were teetering on a damn fine line.

“I was hoping you might say that.”

_____

An hour later, after reuniting with Brian (Auston was right — he cried more than the rest of his family combined when he hugged you), you headed home to change for dinner. As you pulled away from the Matthews house, you were thankful that Auston had offered to follow you in his own vehicle so that he could drive you to dinner, which in turn gave each of you a few minutes to breathe.

Surprisingly, your mother didn’t seem at all shocked to see the guest you had brought back with you. You had told her that you were going to visit the Matthews’, not specifying which member of the family had invited you, though she could venture a guess. When she watched two vehicles pull into the driveway side by side, she inhaled an excited gasp, a smile overwhelming her features as she came to meet you at the front door, just as you laughed at a lame joke Auston cracked about your driving.

Your mother nearly tackled him in a hug, which he warmly returned. He shared a similar bond with your mom to the one you shared with his, which was yet another piece that fit perfectly into the puzzle that was your relationship. So many pieces fit, and so few didn’t, but that still didn’t make things whole.

But, you ignored that thought — and so many others — as you left the two to chat, bounding up the stairs to change, now grateful that you’d brought more than one nice option to wear to the Christmas party tomorrow, considering the rest of your suitcase was filled with comfy loungewear.

How could you have ever planned for this?

After touching up your hair and makeup and putting on the more understated of the dressy outfits you’d brought, you returned to the kitchen where your mom and Auston stood huddled at the counter, near empty glasses of red wine in front of them both.

“Already boozin’, huh?” you teased as you folded your arms in front of you. They chuckled, and Auston glanced at you over his shoulder with a smile. When he laid eyes on you, though, he stood straight up and turned to face you, making no attempt to hide his stare, even in front of your mother. Without taking his gaze off of you, he threw back his final sip of wine and blew out a flustered breath. You knew you were blushing, so you walked past him to your mother, pressing your cheek to hers for an air kiss so as not to mess up your lipstick.

“Sorry to take your favorite boy away from you, but we should head out,” you announced as you looked back at Auston. He cleared his throat, walking to the other side of the countertop to hug your mom again, thanking her for the wine and something else that you didn’t quite catch.

He followed you down the hall, his hand ghosting along the small of your back as you reached for your purse on the coat rack. You looked back and blew a final kiss to your mom, who waved as she watched Auston open the passenger door of his car and help you in — both of you giggling as you crouched into the low-riding vehicle in your skirt and high heels. Like a mom of a young teen, she stood at the window and watched the two of you drive down the block and out of sight, hands clasped together wistfully as she turned back to finish placing the final decorative touches in the living room ahead of tomorrow.

Just a minute later, your dad came through the door from the grocery store, calling for her, sounding nearly breathless.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, smoothing the silk ribbon wrapped around the banister.

“Marie… did I just see Auston driving Kelsey down the road in a Porsche?” he gaped, his brow furrowed, thumb pointed over his shoulder.

She laughed, looking downward as she nodded.

“Yes, you did,” she confirmed, then looked at him as she felt tears welling. “Jack... I can’t say for sure, but I think maybe the girl is finally coming to her senses.”

A smile spread slowly across your father’s face and he came toward your mother, wrapping her in a hug.

“Well…” he began, kissing her temple. “Then maybe we’ll get our Christmas wish after all.”

“And what’s that?” your mom asked.

“For her to be happy again.”

_____

“You look amazing, Kels,” Auston said seriously from the driver’s seat. “Gorgeous.”

You gave him a coy smile and briefly inspected the outfit he’d chosen before leaving his own parents’ house.

“Thanks,” you said softly. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”

Auston grinned and decided he would take that.

Ten minutes later, he was pulling up to the restaurant you had already known he’d had in mind when he asked you to dinner, without even needing to discuss it. The same Italian restaurant where you’d celebrated infinite birthdays, anniversaries, Valentine’s Days, and other milestones. You fell into easy conversation during drinks and appetizers before Auston told a comical story about his teammates which led to an in that he knew he needed to take.

“They miss you, you know,” Auston stated cautiously between bites of his shrimp scampi. “Mo. Mitchy. Especially Steph.”

You folded and unfolded the seams of the cloth napkin in your lap, considering your response.

“I miss them, too,” you eventually murmured. “So be real with me. You really like it there now?” you leveled with him.

His demeanor shifted — in a good way — as he replied. “It’s honestly great. I mean, you’d love it there now, Kels. I swear,” Auston said, shaking his head in wonder. “’M not just saying that. I mean, the hype is still there, yes, but it’s not at the level it was when I first started. Mitchy and Mo and Willy and I, all us guys who kinda started out together, we’ve all sort of found our groove with the media and stuff, and for the most part, it’s great. I have a feeling it’ll just keep getting better, too.”

You watched his eyes light up as he spoke about Toronto, relief and happiness washing over you. It didn’t seem so long ago that Auston was curled up on the couch, near tears, head in your lap, feeling incapable of living up to the expectations set for him — almost buckling under the immense pressure, the likes of which he had never felt before.

You let out a teary chuckle, swiping at a teardrop on your cheek that had fallen as he answered, taking you by surprise.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear that, Aus,” you told him, holding your hand over your heart as it soared within you.

Auston nodded slightly, and his lips twitched into a sad smile. “There’s still something that doesn’t feel right though,” he confessed, though it didn’t feel much like a secret. “Still something missing.”

“And what’s that?” you asked timidly as you lifted your wine glass, excited for and fearful of his answer at all once.

“You.”

Forcing yourself to swallow your merlot so you didn’t spray it across the table, you put your fist to your mouth, holding it there while you attempted to process his latest, and most brazen, admission.

“I mean… look, there have been a few others,” Auston continued with a mindless shrug. “But never anything serious, and never anyone that I’m not constantly comparing to you in every possible way,” he told you, rolling his fingertips on the table and focusing on his hand as he spoke. “Feel kinda bad actually, because I know they all thought it was something more than it really was, and then I was always the one to break things off. I didn’t purposely lead them on, I just... once I got into it, I realized my feelings just weren’t in it.”

You opened your mouth to speak, hands limp in your lap, and then closed your lips in a tight line as you mulled over his words. You inhaled a shuddering breath and looked down, feeling the same shame that had overcome you countless times before come back again.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered without lifting your eyes.

“Kelsey…” Auston spoke firmly. “Look at me. Please.”

You did as he asked, lips pursed, and were met with his adoring, enchanting gaze, always too forgiving of your faults and mistakes.

“It’s okay,” he promised sincerely. “I understand. Trust me on that. I’ve always understood where you were coming from, but it seemed like there was just… just nothing I could do about it. Nothing I could do to make you stay, or to bring you back. That’s what made it so hard. That’s what still makes it so hard.”

You nodded. “Well — what you’re doing right now — whatever this is… it’s working,” you divulged, knowing this was a dangerous game and no longer caring.

“Is it?” Auston asked, a full-blown smile appearing now on his lips. Those lips you missed so damn much.

“Yeah,” you giggled, both of you grinning. “God, I missed your smile, Aus.”

“My smile?” he asked incredulously, then scoffed. “Your smile fucking breaks my heart, Kelsey,” he told you in his deepest tone, biting at the inside of his cheek as if he was trying not to lean across the table and kiss you full on the mouth right then and there.

And now, as you saw that look in his eye that you knew so well, you knew two things.

One, you were fucked. And two, you were in desperate need of a minute.

“I, uh, I gotta run to the ladies’ room,” you told him, standing, feeling unsteady as you pushed in your chair. Auston nodded knowingly and said, “Take all the time you need.”

You brushed a hand over his shoulder, the other holding tightly to your crossbody bag, as you attempted to walk in a straight line toward the restrooms across the restaurant floor. You were only one glass of wine deep, yet this night was making your head feel as fuzzy as if you’d just done a row of shots. Once safely inside the bathroom, you tossed your purse on the counter and held tightly to the sink to try and settle yourself, taking deep breaths in an attempt to control your racing pulse.

Just then, you heard a toilet flush, and your sense of solitude was quickly shattered when you saw a familiar blonde figure step out of the bathroom and lean closer upon recognizing you.

“Kelsey!” she exclaimed, moving toward the sink.

“Holly! Oh, my god,” you laughed as you squeezed her upper arm.

“Here, let me wash my hands and then I’ll give you a real hug,” she promised as you both giggled.

You had been a cheerleader throughout high school, and Holly, a year your senior, had been captain the year before you took on the title. Though you two weren’t particularly close, you had always looked up to her, and you’d kept in touch for a couple of years after you graduated before mostly falling off, save for the occasional hype comment or story reply on social media.

“How are you, girl? You look gorgeous!” she said as she threw her arms around you.

“So do you! I’m doing well, thanks. Home for the holidays,” you offered as she stepped back and nodded.

“Yeah, that’s great! Me, too,” she replied, then smiled mischievously at you. “To be totally honest, uh… I saw you when you were being seated. I didn’t wanna be weird or like, intrude, or anything but… I saw you come in with Auston. Are you guys like… back together?”

“Huh? Oh, no, no,” you laughed nervously, feeling yourself blush under her questioning. “We’re not back together. Just, uh, just two old friends, uh, catching up, ya know?” you reasoned nonchalantly as you reached for your bag.

“Oh. Right. Well... ‘tis the damn season, am I right?” Holly said with a chuckle, her own cheeks slightly flushed as she feared maybe she had made you uncomfortable by addressing the elephant in the room.

“Right,” you nodded cordially, then took a step toward her and patted her hand, wanting to make sure she didn’t think you were upset by her comment. “It’s so good to see you, Hol. I’m gonna head back out there—“

“Kelsey, wait,” Holly said urgently, grasping your arm before you could turn away from her. You blinked at her several times, glancing between her grip and her face as you waited to hear what had gotten into her.

“I just have to tell you... for what it’s worth, you guys still look so happy together,” Holly said. “Even if that’s not what this is. I just... I wanted to tell you that. As someone who has known you both for a long time, Auston never smiles as much as he smiles when he’s with you. It’s just nice to see.”

You gaped at your old friend, speechless, and she scrunched her nose at you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to cross the line, I just...” she trailed off.

You shook your head, forcing yourself to act casual. “No, no. Not at all. It’s okay. Thank you, for telling me. I just, I gotta run,” you said, leaning in to hug her again. “Bye, Hol. Have a merry Christmas.”

“You too, Kels. See you around,” She smiled as you moved toward the bathroom door. With one last polite nod at her, you exited and escaped to your seat.

As you reached the table, you had to physically restrain yourself from reaching out and running your hand along the back of Auston’s neck and affectionately trailing your fingertips over the short hair there, as you had done for so many years when approaching him and sidling up to him. Instead, you smoothed your hand over your dress and sighed as Auston turned his head to look at you, grinning as he watched you sit.

“You get lost?” he teased. You chuckled, throwing your hair behind your shoulders.

“Something like that,” you muttered, immediately reaching for your glass of wine, which you could tell had been refilled in your absence. Auston hummed in acknowledgement as you took a long sip, watching you all the while.

“One more glass and then we get outta here?” Auston suggested as you set the glass down. You only nodded.

_____

“Remember when you had that old truck, with the tires that were always muddy, and we used to just ride around Scottsdale all night long?” you asked Auston, both of you reminiscing about days gone by after leaving the restaurant.

Auston nodded, running his pointer finger across his upper lip, the other hand on the wheel, as he watched the memory projecting in his mind.

“‘Course I do,” he told you, and you didn’t miss the way his tone changed when he did, making you smirk.

“So, where to next?” you prodded. “Back to Casa de Matthews?”

He shrugged ambiguously, but secretly, he knew just what he wanted to do. “We could just ride around. Like we used to. If you want. I mean, there’s no real reason for us to rush back to our parents’ houses, right?” he said with a snicker.

This could get messy as the mud on the truck tires, you thought, but your response was already tumbling from your lips.

“Okay,” you said, smiling at him. “I’d say let’s go drive through the rich neighborhoods and look at Christmas lights like we used to, but that’s where you and your parents live now, so...” You clicked your tongue and Auston rolled his jaw, acting completely offended to hide how much he had missed you chirping him. The way it melted him.

“We’re still going,” he insisted, turning the wheel at the next intersection and pulling a U-turn. “We’ll just, uh, we’re just gonna maybe skip a couple neighborhoods, that’s all.”

You laughed — a real Kelsey belly laugh — and Auston watched as you lit up his world yet again. He didn’t even need to see any Christmas lights this year. He had all the light he needed right next to him.

Minutes later, he passed the usual first turn on your holiday lights tour and you furrowed your brow.

“Aus, where are you going? I wanted to see Ranchero Nuevo first. We always start there,” you reminded him.

“No, what’s the actual first thing we do when we go see Christmas lights?” Auston asked, pulling instead toward the strip mall at the next light. When you saw the green glow of the Starbucks sign up ahead, you smiled as it dawned on you.

“Get hot chocolate,” you said fondly. Instead of answering, Auston simply sent a soft smile your way. “You’re the greatest,” you lauded, igniting a pride that burned bright in Auston’s chest.

“Anything for you, babe,” he said before he could even realize what he’d just done. He snapped his head your way and saw that you were trying your damnedest not to smile.

He was completely taken aback as you quipped, “You can call me babe for the weekend.”

Auston did a double-take and then nodded once at your phone in your hands, which had just lit up with two missed calls and a particularly accusatory text from one Alex Matthews that you decided you would have to tend to later.

“Write this down,” Auston instructed curtly.

“What do you mean?” you laughed, holding your phone up curiously.

“I want proof that you just said that to me,” he deadpanned, jutting his chin toward your glowing screen and sending you into a fit of laughter.

After you’d both recovered, Auston picked up your drink — large peppermint hot chocolate, like always — and a coffee for himself, and you set off to wind your way through the same neighborhoods you had driven through countless times, admiring most of the decorations and poking fun at the gaudiness of some, laughing all the while, without a care.

As he pulled into a neighborhood you knew to be just a stone’s throw away from where he had recently purchased a house, Auston took a deep breath, fingers gripping the steering wheel rigidly, and decided to take the leap and say what had been circling through his brain since you’d stepped foot in the vehicle after dinner but had only just now worked up the nerve to say.

“What if we didn’t go back to our parents’ places tonight?” he asked abruptly, the words sounding much more jumbled and rushed than they had in his head.

You chuckled anxiously, staring straight ahead. “What do you mean?”

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat and pressed on. “Hear me out. What if we just went to my place for the night instead? I don’t mean to like… to hook up, or anything,” he assured. “Just to be together. I just… I really fucking missed you.”

Uh, whoops. He hadn’t exactly meant to slip that last part in there, but it was too late to turn back now.

There was a lengthy pause and the car was frighteningly silent as you weighed your options.

“Well...” you eventually said, nibbling on your bottom lip. “If it’s okay with you, then it’s okay with me.”

“Yeah?” Auston asked immediately, searching your face for confirmation that he had just heard you correctly. He couldn’t believe that this — any of this— was really happening.

You nodded.

“Yeah. And… Aus?” you spoke.

“Yes, Kelsey?” he asked softly, joy radiating from his whole being and seeping into his words.

You leaned your head back against the seat and reached to wrap your hand around his on the center console.

“I really fucking missed you, too,” you told him.

_____

“Why did you agree to come with me tonight anyway, Kelsey?”

You and Auston were each almost a full bottle of wine deep by the time he asked this, inhibitions now lowered. He’d barely finished giving you the tour before you were both so palpably overwhelmed by the reality of being alone together in his house, with so many feelings buzzing about frenetically, that you took the liberty of pulling a bottle of red from the wine fridge and asking for glasses and a corkscrew. Auston forked them over without question, and now you were deeply entrenched in the process of examining old battle wounds that had never quite healed.

“Because I missed you,” you answered truthfully. “And also because I owed it to you to accept your invitation when you took a chance by reaching out.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Kels,” he claimed, taking a swig.

You picked up your glass and passed by him as you began to pace the tile floor, unable to just be still during this exchange — this conversation that had been a long time coming.

“I do, though,” you argued. “You gave me everything. Everything. And I still left.”

Auston squeezed the stem of his wine glass so hard he feared he may just shatter it.

“I don’t want you blaming yourself for the things I put you through because of my career choice,” he said firmly, a hand splayed against his chest as he accepted the responsibility, just like he always did.

“But you didn’t choose to have the media posted up outside our apartment every day. You didn’t choose to have strangers stalking me and my family online. You didn’t choose to have them calling me a distraction and a leech and a gold digger and a wh—“

“Don’t say it,” he warned as he lifted a finger, referencing the specific instance of the smearing of your character that had left you broken enough to start packing your bags.

“Okay,” you conceded quietly, knowing just how sick that one word had made him. “But listen. Yes, you chose to play hockey. But you didn’t choose all that shit that came along with it. You didn’t know! Hell, you didn’t even get to choose where you played. But even so… honestly, I used to blame you for everything. Because back then, it was just easier for me to deal with it that way.”

Auston’s head hung between his shoulder blades as he leaned his palms against the bar, reliving the very same pain that had eaten away at him for the past three years, especially the acute ache that had come in the weeks immediately after you left.

“I know you did — blame me, that is,” he said softly. “And I understand why.”

You took slow and deliberate steps back to where he stood and rubbed your hand soothingly across his broad back, feeling the way his muscles relaxed under your touch.

“Hey… look at me, huh?” you asked, gently guiding his face toward yours with your fingers. “I don’t blame you, Aus. I don’t,” you assured, your eyes piercing into his. “Not anymore. I’ve grown. I know I did this. I know it’s my fault that we’re like this. I mean, fuck, I broke my own heart, and I know I hurt you. I just... at the time, I didn’t see a way forward on the road we were on.”

Auston’s mind was firing on all cylinders as he tried desperately to compute what he’d just heard, convinced he was gathering more from your words than you meant for him to.

“And now?” he ventured.

He watched as your pained expression turned to one of, dare he even think it, hope.

“I still see it, Aus,” you said. “I still see us ending up together. I know it’s out of the blue, but…”

“It’s not though,” he said, cocking his head a bit to punctuate his point. “I know it doesn’t make much sense, any of this, but… to me, it’s not out of the blue. I’ve wanted this for so long,” he told you. “And I just need you to know that. Regardless of what happens next.”

“Auston, you and me together… that’s the only thing that makes sense. That’s all that’s ever made sense to me,” you said, clarity washing over you. “But I just, I wasn’t ready. And I got so scared that I wouldn’t be able to handle your life that I… I just ran.”

“You can run, Kelsey,” Auston said softly as he, yet again, twirled a strand of your hair around his finger. “But only so far.”

“Yeah…” you whispered. Then, without hesitation, you grasped his chin between your forefinger and thumb, turning his face to yours and studying his brown eyes just for a heartbeat before pressing your lips to his.

And for now, that was all that needed to be said.

_____

You hadn’t slept together. But you had slept together.

Too much crying and laughing and kissing and rehashing and wondering aloud had left you both emotionally drained and physically exhausted, and after dragging yourself into the master bathroom to throw on a crewneck and a pair of Auston’s sweats, you’d promptly fallen asleep in his arms, a smile on his features even in sleep.

The next morning it occurred to you, with your cheek pressed against his bare chest and your legs entangled with his, that Auston’s bed — whether here, or in the house where he grew up, or in Toronto — was the warmest one you’d ever known. Though you could tell by the sunlight flooding the room that it was late in the morning, you couldn’t bear to move away from him.

Soon, he, too, began to stir. As he squinted in the daylight and peered down at you, he closed his eyes once more, a peaceful grin on his lips.

“Oh, thank god that wasn’t just a dream,” he whispered. You chuckled, your fingertips lazily drawing shapes on his pecs as you nuzzled your head further into his neck.

“Nope,” you established. “This is very, very real.”

You lay in quiet thought for a moment before adding softly, “But what happens now?”

At that, Auston’s eyes opened wider this time, a slight panic visible in his face.

“Well,” he began, smoothing his hand over your head and kissing your hair. “What happens now is that we get some coffee.”

You sighed at his attempt to make light of the situation and pushed yourself to sit straight up in bed, cross-legged in front of where he lay on his side.

“You know that’s not what I mean,” you spoke, your fingers pulling anxiously at the bedsheet below. “Yesterday was like a fever dream and now... now we have to face reality.”

Slowly, Auston sat up, too, and pulled you into his lap, allowing you to rest your back against his torso as he gathered your hair at the nape of your neck in a makeshift ponytail.

“Everything that happened yesterday was reality, baby,” he insisted, kissing the crown of your head.

“Our feelings, yes,” you allowed. “But not the rest of it. I mean, fuck, we’re both leaving town in —“ you glanced at the bedside clock and were shocked by the 11:27 that stared back at you, realizing you’d practically slept in half the day — “48 hours. And then what? I go back to LA and you go back to Toronto and we just wonder about—“

“Baby, stop,” Auston begged as he turned you to face him, bringing your forehead to his lips. “Take a breath,” he said, stroking your jaw with his thumbs as he looked down at you, concern etched into his features. “We don’t have to figure all this out right this minute. In fact, we’re not going to. For right now, let’s just let this be what it is. And you have to try and stop spinning your wheels so fast. You’re gonna burn a hole in my floor,” he joked, kissing your nose.

You chuckled sadly, holding his wrists. “You’re right,” you eventually told him. “We’ll figure it out, somehow. I know we will,” you sighed, frowning. “First things first though, I have to get home and help my mom get ready for the party tonight.”

Before you could get out of bed to start gathering your things, Auston circled his arms around your hips and kept you in his lap. “Wait, gimme a smile first,” he requested.

You looked up at him and offered a tight-lipped smile, still distracted by the future of your relationship teetering precariously in the balance.

Auston shook his head. “That’s a fake Kelsey smile,” he accused, accurately. “Don’t even try me.”

With another deep sigh, you muttered, “You’re the only soul who can tell.”

“Who can tell what?” he asked, hugging you tighter.

You looked up at him for a moment, feeling more seen than you had in years. “Which smiles I’m faking,” you said quietly.

A pleased smile twitched at the corners of Auston’s lips before he pressed his mouth to yours.

_____

Auston walked into your parents’ house that night with his understated charm and a devastating ensemble of a maroon suit, white shirt with the top few buttons undone, and black loafers, looking every bit the GQ model he was once upon a time. With two bouquets of red roses and a bottle of champagne in hand, he knocked on the glass and your dad met him enthusiastically at the door.

“What’s the occasion?” your dad then chuckled, a bit puzzled. Auston glanced to where you stood near the staircase, waiting to greet him, and smiled.

“These are for your daughter,” Auston said as he grasped one bouquet. “And these are for your wife,” he said as he gestured toward the other. Your dad raised his eyebrows, looking between the two of you pensively, and let out a loud laugh. “Well, how thoughtful! And the champagne?” your dad asked as Auston stepped toward you and tucked one bunch of roses into your hold. He kissed your cheek chastely and turned back to your dad.

“Well, you never know when you’re gonna have something to celebrate,” Auston said with a smirk. You pulled your bottom lip between your teeth and your dad clapped Auston’s back appreciatively before leaving the two of you to your moment.

“Thank you, for the flowers,” you said softly, staring up at him. “They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome,” he said with a nod before your aunt and uncle suddenly appeared in the doorway, loudly greeting you and pushing their way toward you for hugs as Auston gave them their space and waited for you to become available again.

His patience lasted all of five minutes as he made vague pleasantries with the handful of guests who had already arrived, before he was approaching you again, eager to do what he really came here to do and unable to wait a moment longer. As you turned away from a brief conversation with a longtime next-door neighbor, Auston gently grasped your wrist as he said hastily, “Can I see you outside for a second?”

You didn’t have much of a choice as he led you hurriedly through the formal living room and out the French doors to the balcony, closing them behind you and backing you into a corner, hidden from view.

“Aus, what are you—“

He pressed his body into yours, nudging you back against the rail as he took your face in his hands and kissed you hungrily.

“Doing,” you whispered when he let up, completing your earlier thought as you pressed your fingertips against your swollen lips and looked up at him, your cheeks reddening.

“That,” he answered simply with a small smile. “And I wanted to give you something...”

He patted his pockets to determine where the object was, and your eyes widened.

“Auston, no!” you exclaimed, squeezing his elbows in an attempt to stop his search. “You can’t. I didn’t get you anything. I —”

“Kelsey, are you crazy? Yes, you did,” he said firmly. “Time with you. You gave me time with you. That’s all I’ve wanted for the last three years. That’s more than I could have ever asked for.”

There was nothing you could say then, nothing that sounded worthy enough to hold any significance in such an already meaningful vignette of the two of you. Auston took your silence as his opportunity to pull a mid-sized, square, red leather box from the pocket of his suit jacket, the name “Cartier” imprinted in gold script on the lid.

“Auston, stop,” you warned in a whisper, knowing what was inside and knowing that you would be rendered completely incapable of walking away from him once he offered this gift to you, knowing what it signified for both of you. He shook his head, knowing that your request was an empty one. He propped open the box and placed it on the small wrought iron table in front of you on the balcony. You couldn’t peel your eyes from it as your mind raced with questions.

“How... where... we slept until noon, Aus,” you stuttered. “All the stores were closed. Where did you even buy this?”

He pursed his lips and nodded once, then put his hands into his pockets and admitted, “I’ve had it for almost three years, Kels.”

You blinked again and again, not processing what he’d just revealed.

“I’m sorry... what?”

“I bought this for you for Valentine’s Day three years ago,” he continued. “I bought it and I hid it in my closet and I was gonna give it to you but we broke up on —“

“January 30th...” you whispered. Auston’s brows knit together in agony, and his throat constricted.

“You remember too,” he stated quietly.

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember a little too well,” you said, sniffling as you glanced down at the box again.

Suddenly, your mind drifted back not to that fateful day in his apartment in Toronto, but instead to lying on your stomach as a kid in your family room, flipping through the pages of your favorite issue of your mom’s old Vogue magazines, as Auston used a yardstick and a Nerf ball as makeshift hockey equipment, taking shots at your couch again and again while you soaked in the photos of beautiful models, trendy clothing, and expensive jewelry, as visions of working at a fashion magazine someday twirled through your daydreams.

“Whatcha readin’?” a ten-year-old Auston inquired as he dropped next to you to take a break from his game.

“Vogue,” you answered, turning another page. “Like usual.”

Auston nodded, spotting a pretty woman in a tight black dress and commented, “Cool,” with a laugh. “If you could have anything in that book, what would you pick?”

Ever the master of sass, you rolled your eyes.

“It’s a magazine, Aus,” you corrected with venom in your voice as Auston rolled his own eyes. “But, if I had to pick... I know just what I want,” you informed him, leafing through the issue to get back to an ad in the front. When you finally found what you were seeking, you plopped the magazine down again, smacking your hand onto its glossy pages.

“That,” you said, pointing to the gold bangle. “It’s called the Love Bracelet. It says that it gets bought by somebody you love and then they have to use a screwdriver to put it on you.”

“A screwdriver?!” Auston asked incredulously. “Wouldn’t that hurt?”

You giggled. “No, silly,” you drawled. “It doesn’t hurt. But then the person who loves you is the only one who can put it on you or take it off you. You can’t do it by yourself.”

Auston nodded. “Cool,” he repeated, more seriously this time. You sighed wistfully as you gazed down at the bracelet.

“Yeah, but it’s a whole bunch of money, and my dad said he isn’t buying it. He said maybe my husband will get me one someday,” you said sadly. Auston watched your face drop, then, he got an idea.

“How about this,” he offered, nudging you with his elbow. “If I get famous for playing baseball, or hockey I guess, and I make a boatload of money, then I’ll buy you that bracelet. ‘Kay?”

You blushed, hunching your shoulders as you were slightly embarrassed by your best friend’s offer. Still, you loved Auston, and you knew he loved you. He was the only person you wanted to get that bracelet from, except for like, your mom or dad.

“Okay,” you agreed. “You promise?”

Auston dragged his index finger over the left side of his chest. “Cross my heart,” he confirmed.

This time, it was your turn to say, “Cool.”

“I asked my mom to hold onto it,” you heard him telling you now. Now that you’d become the people you’d said you’d be. Now that you both had grown into the farfetched dreams you’d shared as children. Now that you’d come back home — back to one another. Now that he was here, in front of you, again. “I just couldn’t bear to take it back, even though I honestly never thought I’d get the chance to give it to you.”

You were shaking your head endlessly, attempting to stop tears from streaking your face. “I can’t believe this...” you said, awestruck.

“I don’t have to put this on you right now,” Auston said, swallowing his own tears he felt creeping up on him. “I just want you to have it. It’s yours. You should keep it.”

With a few swipes at your undereyes, you rubbed away the wetness on your hands and then extended your left wrist to Auston. A smile flashed briefly across his lips before he set them in a straight line once more.

“Are you sure?” he asked, caution in his voice.

You pulled him in by his waist, beaming, before you answered.

“I’ve played this out basically every night since I left,” you told him. “Even when I was with somebody. I just followed the path my mind was taking me all the way to the very end, until there was no place left to go. And it always leads to you. It always leads me home.”

Auston pulled you into a searing kiss, both of you smiling into it, before he squeezed your hand and reached for the box, carefully disassembling the bracelet so that he could put it on you at last.

“All day I’ve been thinking about what I said earlier. About running,” you spoke as Auston worked on securing the bracelet. “I started running and running and it’s been such a mess since then. Nothing about the past three years made any sense to me. And then I saw you, and… it all made sense again. You and I were the only thing that ever made sense to me,” you told him, your voice wavering as he twisted the final screw into place, lifting the inside of your wrist to his lips and placing a warm, reverent kiss to the skin there, his eyes never leaving yours as he did. “So I’m done. I’m done running, Auston. I can’t run anymore.”

“You have no fucking clue how long I’ve waited to hear you say that,” Auston admitted, touching his forehead to yours before leaning back. “So, to your earlier point... what the hell are we supposed to do now?”

You ran a frazzled hand through your long hair and bit at the inside of your cheek as you formulated your response. “I mean, I have to go back, Aus. I’m working on a really big project...”

Your words put him into a tailspin of his own this time, watching the dreams he had let resurface over the last two days come crashing down in front of him all over again. You were eluding him. Again.

His ears were buzzing so loudly that he barely heard your next words.

“But maybe after that... I could come and spend some time in Toronto?”

Auston pulled his tongue away from the roof of his dry mouth and pleaded, in a voice barely above a whisper, “Don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Don’t say that unless you really mean it,” he said, desperation in his tone.

“I mean, really, I don’t have a choice,” you pointed out with a breathy laugh, your fingers tracing the cold metal of the bangle around your other wrist. “I don’t see any other way that this ends. Not after this. This perfect fucking weekend. I mean... do you?”

“No,” he quickly retorted. “No, I don’t. I was just scared that you... that this was going to be it for you. That we would have this incredible time together and then it would just be another chapter in the Auston and Kelsey history book.”

You smoothed your hands over his lapels, allowing your body to fully relax into his.

“Auston, this... this is different,” you said somberly. “Before, it all just felt like too much. I got scared. We were so young, Aus. I mean, we’re still young, but we were babies. And now... I’ve realized that dealing with the press and the social media and the fans... it’s worth it to me. I’ll never like it. But I love you. And that’s enough. That will always be more than enough for me — being with you. And I’m so sorry that it’s taken me this long, that it took me finally coming back home, to realize that.”

“Don’t be sorry, Kels, please,” Auston whispered, one hand clutching at your hip, the other tangled in the hair at the back of your head as he held onto you with everything he had, knowing he was ready to do so for as long as you would let him. “Just... just say it again, baby. Please?”

“I love you, Aus,” you whispered, tears falling freely down your cheeks as he pressed his forehead to yours. “I’m never gonna stop.”

“Don’t stop,” Auston pleaded, nuzzling his nose against yours before pressing his lips to your mouth. “Don’t ever stop. Promise?” he asked, his voice gravelly.

“Cross my heart,” you whispered, drawing a pretend line across your chest before cupping his cheek and kissing him tenderly.

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theclockworkmonk · 3 years ago

Text

Halftime

Originally written for Hinny Ficfest 2021

Prompt #10: "Smile, we're on Camera."

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Summary: With Ginny telling Harry that he needs to cut loose, Harry fulfills one of his childhood dreams, but gets far more than he bargained for.

*******

Dear Harry,

I take back any and all cheek that I might have given you while you were Captain, because you clearly had the patience of a saint to not be screaming at us the whole time. I swear, it’s like herding hippogriffs. Peakes messed up his bat hand by being careless in Potions, Dean and Demelza are more interested in flirting with each other all practice than running the bloody drills, and the less I say about our sorry excuse for a new Seeker, the better. When you joined the auror program to help the world and find purpose in life, did you not once consider how it would inconvenience ME? Honestly.

And I don’t know how you put up with sharing classes with Hermione for six years. I’ve lost count of the times she’s almost slapped me upside the head from being in such a hurry to raise her hand. It’s also very annoying that I can’t lie to her about not having any homework to get her to stop nagging me, since she now has the same schedule as me.

I miss you so much. Honestly, has the first Hogsmeade weekend ALWAYS taken this long to arrive? What the hell. I’m counting down the days until I can get you pissed in the Three Broomsticks and I can take advantage of you (insert evil laughter here).

Love,

Ginny

****

Dear Ginny,

I’m afraid I can’t join you in bad mouthing Dean for being distracted by a girl during practice, as that would make me a hypocrite. But it’s irrelevant, because you’ll score so many goals on your own that it won’t even matter who catches the Snitch. Let’s be honest, you’re a better Captain than I ever had a chance of being. At least you’ll probably play in more than one game. As much as I miss you, that makes me glad I didn’t go back to school, even if my hand is cramping from paperwork and Robards thinks I don’t deserve to be here.

I’m honestly surprised that homework lie worked on Hermione up until now. I would have guessed that she memorized every year’s schedule just so she could scold students of all years (don’t tell her I said that).

About Hogsmeade….I was actually thinking that maybe we should steer clear of the pubs and shops. Maybe we can have a picnic on the outskirts of the village. Or maybe I can instead meet you on the school grounds. I know non-students normally aren’t allowed that, but I’ve been told the school’s stern headmistress has a soft spot for me. I just think that if we’re in the Broomsticks or Honeydukes together we won’t even get through the day without cameras starting flashing. I just don’t want to add one more thing to stress you out.

Love,

Harry

****

Dear Harry,

Okay Love, this is getting ridiculous. We’ve been together for months but still haven’t gone on a single proper date. I’ve tried to be understanding, I didn’t even argue when you didn’t want to come to see me off on the platform and we had to get all our snogging in at the house, but surely you realize this can’t go on forever. I’m PROUD that I’m your girlfriend, you git. You keep saying that you don’t want to drag me into your public life, but I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that I don’t care about that. You really don’t think I can handle the occasional Witch Weekly columnist cornering me and asking me if you’re good in the sack? Don’t worry, I’ll give a glowing review.

We can’t keep hiding from the world forever, nor should we have to. So stop being such a noble prat or I absolutely WILL tell Hermione what you said about her scolding.

Love,

Ginny

****

Ginny,

I know that you could handle anything the world throws at you. I know you can handle anything, but you still shouldn’t have to. It’s more about what I can handle. I know we can’t keep this secret forever, but….I don’t know, our relationship is just OURS right now. Once we’re public, it’s like we’re going to be sharing it with a thousand strangers. Half of bloody Britain had an opinion about Hermione my fourth year, and I wasn’t even ACTUALLY dating her.

This is probably like ripping off a bandage and we should just get it over with, but as long as I still have that card to play and make plans on how I’d reveal it at some point in the future, I can fool myself into thinking I’m actually in control of this part of my life. Once the press gets word about us, it’ll be chaos.

Love,

Harry

P.S. - If you tell Hermione what I said, I’ll tell Ron that you said it’s only a matter of time before he gets too fat to be an auror.

****

I clearly have failed to teach you that control is grossly overrated. If you ask me, some chaos is exactly what you need. Sure, your life might have SEEMED crazy at first, but now you know you were just riding on rails the whole time. You’ve had Dumbledore, the school, the Ministry, the Order, all telling you what you can do and where you can go for your own protection, and of course the whole thing was because a bloody prophecy was running your life. Honestly, if I were you, I’d be going crazy.

And what do you take me for, a coward? I told Ron that to his face this summer, your threats mean nothing to me, peasant.

****

Are you calling me boring? I AM going crazy! I’m actually leaving the house and going to the shop when I want to. 10-year-old me would have his mind blown by having more than five square feet to move around, haha.

****

Nice try Harry, but we’ve both learned that using dark humor as a defense mechanism only goes so far. Your tragic backstory actually further proves my point, this truly is the first time your life has been open-ended and you don’t even know what to do with it.

You know what I think? I think you need to be impulsive. Maybe even a little spiteful. Every day, just do something you couldn’t do growing up or at school, either because it was too dangerous or illegal or because the monsters you lived with didn’t let you, or whatever (by the way, I’m totally going to kill them, it doesn’t matter what you say). Even if you don’t think you need or want to do them, do them just because you CAN now. Don’t wait to start until you can do them with me, in fact it may actually be better if you don’t. Even though we love each other, our relationship is still something you’re bound by and responsible for. You need to learn to live for no one but yourself.

Then maybe you’ll stop being such a chivalrous prat and hiding me away. Love you.

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

14 November, 1998

“I think you overdid it on the shrinking charm,” said Hermione, “I’m not that taller than you.”

Ginny adjusted the denim jacket that Hermione had lent her as they walked down from the castle in the crisp autumn air. The boys had written to them and asked them to wear muggle clothes when they went down to Hogsmeade, and Ginny needed to borrow something warm that wasn’t a cloak from Hermione, and had adjusted the size with magic.

“ Hmm, ” Ginny hummed thoughtfully, “Maybe, but I didn’t want it to be baggy. I need it riding high enough so my bum is uncovered, I didn’t squeeze myself into these tight jeans for nothing.”

Hermione grimaced and rolled her eyes. “Well you might have made it so small that it doesn’t even make you warm, defeating the purpose.”

Ginny scoffed. “Hermione, we’re girls, we don’t need to rely just on clothes to keep us warm, that’s what boyfriend arms are for, obviously. ”

They approached the gate of the school, and were surprised to find their boyfriends waiting for them right there instead of in the village. Ginny was about to tell off Harry if he was continuing with his nonsense of just spending the day at the school, but her voice died and her jaw dropped when she saw the state of him.

Harry was, somehow, looking even hotter than he did the last time she saw him. He was wearing a black t-shirt with a messed-up smiley face on it and the word “NIRVANA” splashed across his chest (which looked much more toned than the last time Ginny had seen it, but she would have to run her hands over it to be sure). She was able to see it because his hands were on his hips, pushing back the black leather jacket he was wearing. From now on, he would wear nothing but leather, if Ginny had any say, and it hung beautifully on his broad shoulders (which he had now, apparently, Ginny thanked the gods for the auror training regimen).

But the thing that drew Ginny’s eyes the most was his hair. It was even more wild than usual, messier than any bedhead she had seen him with, to the point that it seemed to defy gravity, and was practically begging for a girlfriend’s fingers to be running through it.

“Oh, brother,” she heard Ron grumble. She wasn’t surprised. She wasn’t even attempting to hide how hard she was eye-shagging Harry.

Harry gulped and blushed at the look on his girlfriend’s face, and didn’t even manage to get out a polite greeting before she leapt into his arms and kissed him until he felt dizzy.

“...wow,” he gasped finally as he put her down, needing air.

“Wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in muggle clothes that fit you,” said Hermione, after kissing her own boyfriend.

“Yeah, he looks weird in jeans meant for a human instead of a hippopotamus,” laughed Ron.

Harry shifted uncomfortably at the attention. “Yeah, well...that’s sort of the point.”

He turned back to Ginny. “I took your advice. I’ve been doing lots of stuff that I’ve never been allowed to do before. I actually bought a Nintendo, since I was never allowed to touch Dudley’s, or even watch him play.”

“He’s coming to regret that, though,” said Ron smugly, “since I’ve been kicking his arse at it.”

“And I also realized that I can actually buy my own clothes now,” Harry continued. “I started out just wanting to buy some jeans and shirts that fit me, but well….your dad and I finished fixing Sirius’s motorcycle, and in all the photos I’ve found of Sirius with it, he’s wearing a jacket like this. I guess it’s just what you’re supposed to wear when you ride one.”

He looked down and pulled at his t-shirt. “This is a muggle band that I found a tape of once. I managed to play it for a bit on Dudley’s old stereo he kept in his second bedroom, but I got a bit too greedy with the volume and Petunia practically shrieked like a banshee to ‘turn off that noise!’ But now I have all their music and blast it as loud as possible, just because I can, like you said.”

“And in all of this splurging, you couldn’t afford a hair comb?” chuckled Hermione, pointing to Harry’s hair.

“Hey, you shut up!” Ginny told Hermione. “Don’t listen to her, Harry, if you comb this I’ll kill you.”

“Yeah, apparently men do this on purpose now?” said Harry. “I went to get a haircut, and basically told the stylist to just do whatever she thought looked good, and she used this paste that made my hair stick out all over the place even more than it usually does, and stay there.”

He shrugged at Ginny. “You said to be spiteful, and it was fun imagining what Petunia would think if I had this growing up, so I kept it.”

“Well Harry, that is downright petty!” Ginny gasped. “I’m so proud of you!” At that, Harry’s face split into an adorably goofy grin.

“Well let’s get going,” said Hermione. “Why did you two ask us to dress muggle?”

Reluctantly, Harry pulled his eyes away from his girlfriend beaming at him. “Oh yeah, that. Well, I was actually hoping we could go to muggle London. There’s another thing I’ve been meaning to do, but I wanted all of us to go together.

Ginny’s eyes narrowed suspiciously and she looked at Harry with her hands on her hips. “Are you just trying to get me away from the magical world as part of your daft idea to protect me?”

“What? Nooooo,” said Harry guiltily, “It’s not about that!”

Ginny didn’t move a muscle except to raise one eyebrow.

“....okay it’s not only about that. Come on, muggle public is still public, it’s a step in the right direction, work with me here, Gin.”

“I for one don’t mind staying clear of Harry’s admirers, personally,” said Ron, offering his arm to Hermione to Apparate.

“Alright,” grumbled Ginny, “but you’re not off the hook about this!”

She looped her arm through Harry’s, he turned on the spot, and she winced as she felt the squeeze of Apparition.

When they landed, Ginny was immediately aware of all the sounds and smells that came with the truly absurd number of people that lived together in muggle society. That was the thing about muggles that always blew her mind, just how many there were. She heard the shuffling of thousands of footsteps and a cacophony of car horns, and smelled smog. The first thing she saw, however, was just a brick wall. They had Apparated in an alleyway.

“Come on,” said Harry, and took her by the hand. He led her out onto a bustling pavement, and across the street Ginny saw an enormous stadium. Everywhere, there were billboards and banners in red and white, adorned with the emblem of a red rose. Across the entrance to the stadium, where a huge crowd of people, mostly dressed in white, were passing through turnstiles, were giant letters spelling out “WELCOME TO TWICKENHAM.”

“Oh Harry, this is a great idea!” said Hermione cheerfully as they started crossing the street towards the entrance.

“Wait, what’s going on?” asked Ginny, “What made you want to come here?”

Harry sighed as they continued to walk. “Growing up, Dudley always loved a muggle sport called rugby. Actually...no, I don’t think he loved the actual sport, he just loved watching big ugly blokes hit each other really hard. His favorite part of the matches were the brawls that would occasionally break out. That might be why he eventually lost interest in the sport and took up boxing instead, cutting out the middleman, I guess.

They got in line at the entrance to the stadium and Harry handed out tickets that he had bought to the three of them.

“Anyway,” Harry continued, “Petunia and Vernon would take Dudley to all the England games. They really tried to foster his interest in it, I think maybe so that he might actually want to play.”

He paused for a moment and then chuckled. “But that was never going to happen. Dudley can’t run for eight seconds, much less eighty minutes. The sport also kind of has a stigma for being for stuffy upper-class people—”

“Yeah, that tracks,” grumbled Ron. “Your dad said he played this game, right Hermione?” She swatted his arm.

“So that was the other reason the Dursleys liked the game, it fit nicely into the image they obsessively crafted about themselves,” continued Harry, with an edge in his voice. “But of course, that image had no room for me in it. They couldn’t very well be seen with a boy who looked like a street urchin in raggy hand-me-downs, so every England game I got handed off to Mrs. Figg while little Dudders got to shout obscenities at the opposing players and referee to his heart’s content.”

Ginny gave his hand a comforting squeeze, and his furrowed brow relaxed again. He shook himself out of his mood and cleared his throat.

“Anyway, Ginny’s been telling me to indulge myself more, so I thought I’d finally see what all the fuss is about, just because I can now. I wanted it to be a surprise, but in hindsight I really should have asked you both first, I won’t get my feelings hurt if you want to go back to Hogsmeade.”

“Oh, don’t you start that again!” Ginny scolded him.

“This is an excellent idea, Harry,” said Hermione. “I’m always telling these two they should learn more about muggles.”

Once they were in the stadium, Harry started guiding them towards the section with their seats, but Ron made to go towards one of the many food kiosks.

“Ron, I know there’s no way you didn’t eat lunch before picking us up,” groaned Hermione. “Even you can’t possibly be hungry again already.”

“Hey, you just said I needed to learn more about muggles!” said Ron defensively. “I’m going to get right on that, starting with learning about their selections of beer.”

Hermione crossed her arms. “Oh, really, you got a muggle driver’s license while I’ve been away? How do you plan to prove that you’re over eighteen?”

Ron frowned in confusion. “Why the bloody hell would it matter if I’m over eighteen?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry, Ginny, go find our seats. Ron, go buy the food, I’ll get us some drinks.”

Eventually, they were all seated, in a great spot that Harry knew with satisfaction even the Dursleys had never sprung for, with Harry sitting between Ginny and Hermione, with Ron on Hermione’s other side. Ron was balancing a sample of nearly every concession in the stadium, Ginny was bouncing excitedly on the edge of her seat, and Harry wore a contented smile as the England team marched out onto the field alongside the Netherlands, greeted by the roar of the crowd.

“Brr, it’s a little cold,” said Ginny, exaggerating her shiver a bit and looking sideways.

“Oh, come here,” said Harry, with genuine concern, and wrapped his arm around her.

She sighed as she melted into him. “Much better.”

“You cold too, love?” Ron asked Hermione. “These muggle clothes aren’t as warm as a cloak.”

“No, I cast a warming charm on myself before we left,” Hermione said casually.

“Oh…” said Ron, his face falling. Hermione rolled her eyes, took his hand, and wrapped her boyfriend’s arm around her.

As the anthems started playing, the four of them enthusiastically attempted to sing along, despite the fact that Hermione was the only one of them who knew the words to “God Save the Queen,” and blushed with embarrassment at the offended looks they earned from the fans around them.

Right from kickoff, Ginny was surprised by how much she enjoyed a game where all of the players were stuck on the ground. It was true that there was a great deal of ugly blokes hitting each other, but there was also a good bit of far prettier blokes pulling off long, elaborate passing plays that honestly made Ginny feel jealous and start taking mental notes, and whenever the players started launching kicks into the sky and leaping to catch them, she almost felt like she were at a Quidditch match. With each England score, she cheered as if she had been watching the team all her life.

And she had plenty of chances, because barely a few minutes would go by before England would score again. The roar of the crowd quickly became less and less intense, as many of the muggle fans started clapping politely or even looking outright bored, and looked sideways at Harry and Ginny continuing to leap to their feet every time England ran the ball into the end of the field, like they suspected the young couple were being sarcastic.

“Oh come on, that was thrown forward!” Ron cried out in frustration as England scored their fifth try. “And there’s no way that was a legal tackle!” he pointed to a Dutch player still on the ground, clutching his ribcage.

“How would you know?” Harry laughed. “And whose side are you on anyway, traitor?”

“He can’t help it, this is just like watching the Harpies play the Canons,” teased Ginny. “He has a soft spot for hopeless teams.”

“Oi, shut it!” snapped Ron, “Besides, it’s our year this year, our new Keeper is unbeatable, except from the left side.”

By the time halftime was called, England was up forty-seven to zero, Harry and Ginny were feeling exhausted from cheering, Hermione’s right ear was hurting from Ginny’s shouting, and Ron was about to burst from all the beer he had drunk, so he got up and made like a bat out of hell towards the toilets.

As the fans settled down, the stadium was trying to keep them entertained until the game resumed, playing music and showing shots of the crowd on the jumbotron, with the caption “Dance Cam!” in the corner. Harry and Ginny were having fun judging the performances.

“Hmmm, commendable effort, but lacking creative vision,” said Ginny in a snooty voice.

“You just can’t appreciate the artform,” said Harry. “If they pointed the camera at us, I would wipe the floor with you.”

“Ugh, no, I don’t need to see you attempt to dance,” said Ron, returning holding his stomach and looking green. “I already hurled in the loo, don’t make me do it again.”

“Well that tends to happen when you eat five hot dogs in forty minutes,” said Hermione primly.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been living off of Harry’s cooking for the past two months, I was desperate for something edible.”

“Only you could complain about free food, Ron,” said Harry.

“It’s not free! I’m paying for it more than you!” Ron shot back. “Don’t act like you’re cooking to be nice, you’re just using me as your Weasley guinea pig so you can get good at it to impress my sister!”

Harry blushed, and was about to retort, when Ginny pulled on Harry’s arm from his other side.

“Harry,” she said in a sultry voice that sent a shiver down his spine, “Smile, we’re on camera.”

Harry looked up to the jumbotron, and felt himself blush harder and gulped loudly. He saw Ginny and himself, up on the screen, magnified for thousands of people to see, but that wasn’t the most embarrassing part. While he had been arguing with Ron, the game had apparently changed. Instead of the Dance Cam, the screen was now captioned with “Kiss Cam!”

He turned towards his girlfriend, who had a dangerous glint in her eye, and cleared his throat. “Er...do you think we should—”

He was cut off by Ginny throwing her arms around his neck and sticking her tongue down his throat. She leaned back in her seat, pulling him with her until he was almost lying on top of her. Through the fog of blissful oblivion that turned his brain to mush, Harry was distantly aware of the roar of laughter and wolf whistles as a few thousand of his closest friends reacted to him snogging his girlfriend.

“...Welp. I’m gonna go puke again,” Ron said in a deadpan voice, and got up to leave.

“You know, when you told me to go crazy, I didn’t think you meant shameless, ” Harry told Ginny.

“Oh, ex- cuse me!” laughed Ginny. “Have you already forgotten how our first kiss went?”

“I think this is on a bit bigger scale!” said Harry, gesturing around them to the huge stadium, many hundreds of times larger than the Gryffindor common room.

“Yes, that means that I win,” said Ginny smugly.

Harry laughed and reached an arm around her, pulling her close.

“I didn’t know it was possible to feel this....”

“Happy?” Ginny finished for him hopefully.

“No,” said Harry thoughtfully. “Well, yes, I mean, I am happy, but you make me this happy all the time. I didn’t know it was possible to feel this normal. ”

Ginny smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. “For the record, Harry, you’re not normal. You’re brilliant, and a hero, that’s never going to go away forever. But I’m glad you got to pretend otherwise today. Now, can we get the game started again? I’m on the edge of my seat to find out who wins.”

Despite being so cheesy, Harry couldn’t help himself. “Well, I’m feeling like I’m the real winner here.”

Ginny threw her head back and groaned.

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

“I am starving! ” Ron announced as he and Harry stepped through the Burrow’s fireplace. They had just floo’ed over for Sunday dinner, which had quickly become a tradition after they had moved out. For both of them, the Burrow still felt like home.

When they entered the kitchen, they found most of the family already there, and Harry was surprised and confused by the range of reactions he received. Fleur’s face was flushed as if she had been laughing, and upon seeing Harry she collapsed into more giggles. Bill, however, narrowed his eyes at Harry and pressed his mouth into a thin line, which didn’t scare him nearly as much as George grinning at him and rubbing his hands together gleefully. Mrs. Weasley had her back turned to them at the kitchen sink, and Mr. Weasley was hidden behind a newspaper.

Harry and Ron paused for a moment and looked at each other.

“Er...what’s so funny?” asked Harry.

“It’s not funny,” said Bill curtly, looking between his wife and George.

“Did you two enjoy your outing with the girls yesterday?” Mrs. Weasley asked without turning around.

“It was brilliant,” said Ron. “Harry had a stupid grin on his face the whole time.”

“Well I should think so,” sighed Mrs. Weasley, with annoyance in her voice. She turned around and placed a magazine on the kitchen table, sliding it towards Ron and Harry. “You certainly seem to have enjoyed yourself.”

Harry looked at the cover of the magazine, and felt all of his insides turn to ice.

It was the latest issue of Witch Weekly, and on the cover was an identical image to the one that had appeared on the stadium’s screen the previous day, except this one was magically moving: Harry and Ginny in the stands, sharing a searing kiss in front of everyone. The headline read “ WHO IS GINNY WEASLEY? THE INSIDE SCOOP ABOUT THE CHOSEN ONE’S CHOSEN ONE! Read on page 23.”

“This issue actually went out late,” said George over his drink, “I guess that happens when the biggest story of the week happens last-minute.”

Harry couldn’t respond. He felt his throat closing up. The exact thing that he had been terrified would happen had happened.

“Okay, just for the record,” said Ron uneasily, “She was the one snogging him.”

“How dare you, Ronald!” said George dramatically. “What are you implying about our sweet, innocent baby sister? We all know she’s been badly influenced by Harry’s wanton ways. After all, he’s always been such a womanizer.”

“We can see that she instigated it in the picture, Ron,” said Bill shortly, “But one wouldn’t think that Harry would be powerless against being manhandled by a ninety pound girl with no wand if he didn’t concur with the idea. Where’s all those auror reflexes?”

Harry was barely listening to them. He opened the magazine so fast he ripped the cover and flipped to page 23:

Sorry to all of our younger readers, but Harry Potter appears to be off the market! While WITCH WEEKLY reporter Joan Bigby was watching a muggle game called “rug bee” (as research for our Top 10 Hottest Muggle Celebrities, pg 36), imagine her shock when she spotted the Chosen One himself in the crowd. After months of being elusive, with not a single public sighting outside of the Ministry of Magic since the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry, with all eyes on him, shared an intense kiss with a red-headed girl that we have since discovered is Ginny Weasley, current seventh year Hogwarts student, in a public display of affection that very few would expect of the famously mysterious and dignified hero.

However, the muggle footage (that we’ve magically recreated here) clearly shows Ginny initiating the kiss. Did she do it to get some fame for herself? Many people are saying it’s possible.

“WHO is saying it’s possible!?” Harry growled as he white-knuckle gripped the glossy pages. “You just broke the story, who’s talking about it already!?”

“Oh, ‘many people are saying,’” Mrs. Weasley huffed. “That’s what they say when they want to disguise that they’re just making things up.”

Harry continued to read, even though every line horrified him more than the last.

Naturally, the magical community of Britain will be wondering if this girl is good enough for their savior. Well, we regret to inform everyone that Ginny Weasley appears to have a reputation of having many boyfriends and going through them rather quickly.

“But she doesn’t!” Harry cried. “She had just two previous boyfriends and dated them for a year, how is that quickly?”

“Well I mean,” mumbled Ron, “She does have more experience then either of us.”

“But that’s only because we’re both idiots,” said Harry.

“Fair point,” said Ron.

After leaving the muggle event, Miss Bigby Apparated to Hogsmeade, where the Hogswarts student population were spending the day. She had a very enlightening conversation with a Miss Romilda Vane, current sixth year.

“Oh, bloody hell,” Harry groaned.

“I strongly suspect she’s been slipping him love potions,” Miss Vane commented. “Everyone knew that she was fawning over him for years, then out of nowhere he’s snogging her in the Gryffindor Common Room after a Quidditch match. She’s been climbing the ranks by dating boys who will give her clout by association. First there was Michael Corner, a Ravenclaw with the highest marks in his year, then there was Dean Thomas, Harry’s dorm mate and one of Gryffindor’s Quidditch stars.”

WITCH WEEKLY also tried to reach out to Corner and Thomas, who were also present in Hogsmeade, but they both adamantly declined to comment. However, this may have been due to having no bad things to say, but rather a fear of reprisal from the fiery redhead. According to Miss Vane, Ginny Weasley also has a reputation for being violently unstable, with a penchant for the Bat Bogey Hex. As if we weren’t already worried that this girl would break Harry’s heart, she might also hurt him physically….

Harry let the magazine fall from his hands and he collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs.

“It’s over,” he said in disbelief. It wasn’t emotional panicking, it was just a reasonable statement of fact. “There’s no way she doesn’t chuck me after this.”

Harry hopelessly collapsed forward until his forehead loudly made contact with the wooden table.

All the expressions from the Weasleys softened in sympathy, from Bill’s and Mrs. Weasley’s stern looks to Fleur’s and George’s teasing smiles.

“Oh Harry dear, I’m sure she’ll understand,” said Mrs. Weasley softly, coming around the table and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“If I know my daughter at all,” said Mr. Weasley, finally emerging from behind his paper, “then she couldn’t care less what some strangers reading a magazine think of her. She understands that as long as the people who love you know the truth, that’s all that matters.

“Oh, I zink she cares,” chuckled Fleur, “She will love being known as ze diabolical villain zis rag is writing about. She will be proud, it will make ozzers zink twice before messing wiz ‘er. No one will try to steal ‘Arry from her if zey zink she will hex zem.”

“No, I know Ginny is strong,” said Harry despondently, “but everyone has a limit. She has to be wondering if being with me is worth—”

Tap tap tap

Harry’s sulking was interrupted by the noise at the window. He looked up and saw the screech owl that he had gotten Ginny for her birthday.

Harry’s heart sank even further. This was it. The break-up letter.

He mentally protested against his feet as they carried him to the window. All of his Gryffindor courage was failing him and he wanted to run in the opposite direction of that letter and never read it.

He numbly opened the window and took the letter from the owl. He opened it with shaking hands and began reading. As he read, he felt his tense stomach muscles finally relax, and eventually he started chuckling and a small smile appeared on his lips.

“Eh-hem.”

Harry looked up and saw all of the Weasleys looking at him very expectantly.

“Well?” said Ron.

Harry shrugged and began reading:

“Okay Harry,

I figure that this letter should reach you right as you’re starting to panic at Sunday dinner and starting to think a bunch of daft things like I’m going to ditch you.

Dean told me about being ambushed by some tart from WITCH WEEKLY in Hogsmeade. I got a copy this morning and it’s honestly the most brilliant thing I’ve ever read. I’ve framed it and put it up in my dorm, I’m going to re-read it whenever I need inspiration.”

“See? What did I tell you,” said Fleur proudly.

“I’m thinking about putting ‘Ginny Weasley, named Gold Digger of the Week by WITCH WEEKLY’ on business cards, but that might be overkill. So nip all of those noble, guilty thoughts I know you’re having in the bud, Potter. My only regret is that I don’t get to snog you like that every day. So you better be prepared to make up for lost time—”

“Feel free to skip this part,” said Bill flatly.

“We get the gist of it,” said Ron.

“The point is, Harry, that it will take a lot more than some tripe in a magazine for lonely witches with nothing better to do with their time for you to get rid of me. You better not try to hide me away again the next time we’re together. You’re going to snog me in public, whether it’s muggle or magical public is up to you.

Love (no matter what),

Ginny

P.S. - If you truly want to make it up to me, you can use your Ministry connections to get me out of Azkaban after what I do to Romilda Vane.

“Wow,” said Ron, “Don’t let her go, mate, that’s not the kind of letter you’d get from most girls right now.”

“I think I’ll have to lend our sister some Weasley Wizard Wheezes prototypes,” said George thoughtfully, “It seems she’s found the perfect test subject in Miss Vane.”

“Oh, don’t you encourage her!” scolded Mrs. Weasley, “I’ll write and tell her it’s best to just ignore this sort of thing and not retaliate. I told you she would be understanding, Harry dear.”

Harry’s head was swimming and his heart was pounding from his realization.

As happy as he had always been with Ginny, there had always been something holding him back from picturing a future with her. He now realized he had been assuming that she would get scared of everything that came with dating him and let him go. But she had taken the worst of it in stride, and that made it obvious: she was with him for keeps. She was the One. He could now see his whole life stretched out in front of him. A life shared with Ginny.

Harry made to leave the kitchen in the direction of the fireplace.

“Wait, Harry, where are you going?” asked Mrs. Weasley.

Harry didn’t see a reason to hide it. “I’m going back to my flat to write the cheesiest, most nauseating love letter in history.”

Ron shooed him away. “Don’t give us any more details, then, I don’t want to lose my appetite.”

#hinny ficfest #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry and ginny #hp fanfic #hp fanfiction #hinny #hinny fanfic #hinny fanfiction #hinny fluff #romione #ron and hermione

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aalissy · 3 years ago

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Soulmates

Anddd this is the final chapter for Marichat May! I hope you guys enjoyed reading my little prompts for this month :). If you’d like to stick around and read my Ladrien June chapters feel free to do so! Otherwise, thanks for reading these with me haha. Lemme know what you think <3

AO3

“No way!” Marinette gasped, staring at the mark on her arm with wide eyes. It wasn’t a piano or the logo for Gabriel like she was expecting. Instead, it was a small, black pawprint.

Blinking in surprise, she shook her arm out, wondering if it could possibly change before her eyes. How could her soulmate possibly be Chat Noir? It didn’t make any sense. Adrien was always supposed to be the one for her.

With a harsh exhale of disbelief, Marinette sunk onto her chaise, still staring down at her arm. Sure she had a tiny crush on her partner but it wasn’t anything compared to what she felt for Adrien... was it?

Licking her lips, she couldn’t stop herself from remembering their kisses. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she then carefully rubbed her thumb against her lower lip. Maybe it wasn’t as crazy as she thought. Chat had always said that they were destined for each other. Perhaps he had been right all along. With a small smile, she traced the pawprint on her arm.

Pushing herself up, she happily skipped downstairs, calling out to her parents, “Maman! Papa! I got my soulmark!”

“Oh honey, let me see!” Sabine clapped excitedly back, holding onto her daughter’s arm gently as she looked down at the soulmark.

Tom quickly ran over to see it as well, gasping with glee as soon as he saw it. “I knew it! I always told you that she had something for Chat Noir!”

Sabine sighed, gently patting her arm as she nodded her head at her husband. “You were right. I would have sworn that it was going to be the other blonde.”

“Maman! Papa!” Marinette blushed, bringing her arm back as she couldn’t stop herself from tracing the pawprint once again. “You can’t say things like that!”

“Sorry, dear,” Sabine chuckled. “But we have been waiting for this day for a while now.”

Shaking her head at her parents fondly, she looked down at her arm, murmuring, “Do you think he has his soulmark too?”

Tom reached forward, squeezing her arm gently. “He should. Sabine and I got ours at the same time.”

Marinette beamed at her parents as they glanced at the other lovingly. Soon she and Chat could be like that. The only issue was whether or not he had a soulmark dedicated to her designs or if he had a small ladybug on his arm. Swallowing nervously, she figured she would need to ask him during their next patrol. She would just need to be extra careful for the next few days.

Shaking her head once, she realized how late she was for school. “Anyway, I really need to get going! Goodbye, maman! Goodbye, papa! I’ll see you after class!”

Marinette kissed them both on their cheeks before bolting out of her house, happily skipping her way to school. She tightened her jacket over her soulmark, wishing that she could squeal to Alya about it even though she knew that she needed to have her talk with Chat Noir first.

As she drew closer to the school doors, she tilted her head curiously when she saw Adrien, Alya, and Nino waiting outside. With a small frown, Marinette stepped up close to them, looking to her best friend as she said, “Hey guys! What’s going on?”

“Hey, Marinette,” Adrien spoke up almost shyly, causing her gaze to dart over to him in surprise. “I wanted to show you something this morning.”

Her steps slowed to a stop as she looked at him suspiciously. Her heart pounded in her chest as she wondered what he could possibly show her. Surely it couldn’t be...

Marinette gasped in surprise when Adrien pulled up his sleeve, showing her the new mark on his wrist. Her palm slapped to her mouth as she gaped down at the sewing needle and thread that had suddenly appeared there. Her hand shook as she lifted her wide, shocked blue eyes to meet his.

He gave her a soft smile, glancing down at the mark as he scratched the back of his neck. “Something tells me that this is supposed to be your mark, am I right?”

Marinette choked, glancing down at her soulmark that was still covered up by her jacket sleeve. This couldn’t be right! She wasn’t Adrien’s soulmate. She was Chat Noir’s! How could his soulmark be related to her, show up on the same day as hers, be in the same place as hers, and yet he wasn’t her soulmate?!

“I-I... y-you...” Marinette stuttered, watching with sadness as his brow slowly creased with a frown.

“Are you alright?” he asked, reaching out for her as concern flitted across his eyes.

Instead of answering, she simply shook her head quickly. She shot one glance at the school’s entrance before turning and running as fast as she could in the opposite direction. She’d need to explain to her parents that she got sick because she couldn’t sit through multiple classes behind Adrien. Right now, she really needed to get some air.

Marinette heard her friends call after her but she simply kept running. Pushing some Ladybug speed into her legs, she kept going until she collapsed onto a bench, certain that she had escaped. Scrubbing her eyes, she sighed with exasperation. She had just decided to give Chat a chance when Adrien shows up at school wearing her mark?! It wasn’t fair! What was she meant to do?!

Sniffling quietly, she wiped her nose on her sleeve. Shakily, she peeled back her jacket, wondering if both she and her parents had gotten it wrong this morning. Nope, the same black pawprint continued to stare up at her. Staring down at it with a tearful smile, Marinette sucked in a deep breath of air. She really needed to get home and tell her parents what had happened. Maybe they’d have some explanations for her.

About to push herself up off the bench she had collapsed on, she froze when she heard a familiar voice call out to her, “Purrincess, are you alright?”

She whirled around, staring with open-mouthed shock at Chat Noir. Blinking dumbly, she asked, “Chat Noir? What are you doing here?”

His lips quirked with amusement even when his eyes looked depressingly sad. Marinette wondered what had happened when he gestured at her, speaking up again, “You looked sad. I wanted to make certain that you didn’t get akumatized. Did, um, something happen purrhaps?”

Chat sat down next to her, shifting almost uncomfortably as he continued to gaze at her with something in his eyes. Marinette sniffled again, clenching her arm around her soulmark as she tried to give him a weak smile. “Kind of. It’s a long story, really.”

“I’ve got time,” he leaned back, crossing his arms behind his head as he tried to look relaxed. His eyes gave him away though. He looked dejected like he had lost something precious. “And, if it keeps you from being akumatized, purrincess, it’s worth it.”

Marinette’s cheeks turned a light pink. She ducked her head down with a shy giggle as she realized something. He really was her soulmate. Which meant that she could honestly tell him everything.

Tracing the mark on her wrist for courage, she looked back up at him, locking their gazes as she began to speak again, “Well, kitty, I’ve sorta had a crush on this one boy for a really long time. I used to think that we were supposed to be soulmates and everything. But, when I woke up this morning, and I saw my soulmark, I realized that it wasn’t his. It was someone else’s.”

“Uh-huh.” Chat nodded his head but the small frown on his face furrowed even more. His ears flattened on his head and he looked even sadder.

Marinette tilted her head at him in confusion before continuing her speech, “I was ready to just be his friend forever and give the other boy a chance when he showed up at school this morning with my mark. And then I, um, ran away because I was scared of hurting his feelings. I wasn’t really sure what to do. I still have feelings for the first boy but I also think I’ve been burying my feelings for the other boy.”

“Wow,” Chat finally murmured after a while. “I didn’t know it was possible for someone’s soulmark to not be returned. I thought they were all the same.”

Shifting in her seat slightly, she sucked in a deep breath. “D-did you get your soulmark today, kitty?”

“What?!” he asked, his eyes bulging out of his head. Marinette’s gaze shot down to his hand, which jumped over to his other hand to cling protectively to his wrist. His gaze darted around nervously as he asked, “W-what made you want to ask that?”

“B-because... I think I might have your soulmark, Chaton.” She gave him a small smile. Slowly, she peeled back her jacket sleeve again, hoping that she was right when she revealed the tiny, black pawprint on her arm.

Marinette breathed out a sigh of relief when Chat looked down at her arm in amazement. His hands came down to trace over the mark and she shivered at his touch. Tingles shot up her arm from her soulmark and she peeked up at him from beneath her lashes.

He looked stunned. His mouth was dropped open as he continued to look down at her mark. Slowly, he lifted his head back up, a look of realization lighting up his eyes as he breathed out, “Oh. I understand now.”

“Understand what?” She tilted her head at him with confusion, wondering what he meant.

“Nothing,” Chat said, a bright beam sliding across his face. “Just furget I said anything because purrincess, I think you’re my soulmate too.”

Marinette let out a cry of disbelief before throwing herself into his arms. Thank god he didn’t have a ladybug soulmark. That would have been tricky to explain. As Chat squeezed her to him tighter, she realized that she’d need to explain the situation to Adrien tomorrow. Maybe the sewing needle and thread were about someone else because she was positive that her kitty really was meant for her.

Chat pulled back and she blinked up at him startled before he cupped her cheek gently. Slowly, he leaned in to brush a soft kiss against her lips. She sunk into him, kissing him back as her heart tripped in her chest. All of her worries about school, Adrien, and her parents disappeared as their hands entwined. She was with her soulmate. Everything was going to be alright. She’d explain and fix everything later. Right now, though, she just wanted to enjoy these precious few minutes with him.

#marichatmay2021 #marichatmay #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #marichat #soulmate au #soulmate #soulmarks #ML #mlb fic #mlb

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hidden-otaku-stuff · 4 years ago

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Lockscreens (ch. 5)

tw: Pining, mentions of stripping (playful)

Word count: ~2.9k

Genre: Angst, fluff

All trigger warnings will be tagged and posted at the beginning of each chapter! This will have *manga spoilers*

Pairings: Bokuto x fem!reader, Kuroo x fem!reader

Summary: Nearly four years ago, Bokuto left the love of his life for volleyball. Despite all the time, he’s still very much in love with her. He comes home to a major surprise leaving him wondering…What happened while he was gone?

AN: There is an official Lockscreens Spotify playlist! Please feel free to give it a listen 💖

Masterlist | prev | next

ch. 5: Best Friends (19 weeks)

The blaring sound abruptly drew him out of his deep slumber. “What?” He muttered, rubbing his face.

“Kurooooo,” she whined. “I need your help.” He furiously blinked, trying to rub the sleep away.

“What’s up?”

“I have these super bad cravings, do you mind picking it up and getting it for me?”

Kuroo sighed deeply. “This is what you decided to wake me up for?” He groaned, slapping a hand to his forehead.

“Please? I’d owe you one! And you’re awake already.”

“You owe me a lot more than just one, kitten,” he warned. “What on Earth are you craving right now?”

“I really want dark chocolate covered blueberries and a salmon onigiri. Oh! And maybe some meat buns.” An exclamation. “Maybe peaches too!”

He blinked. “What?”

She let out a loud whine. “Kuroo! Don’t judge me! It’s what the baby wants, okay?”

“I’m not judging that’s just..super particular. Alright fine, I’ll pick it up and head over.”

“You’re literally the best! Love you~!” And with that, she hung up. The rush of blood filled his ears as those words echoed in his ears. He pinched his nose, breathing deeply. Glancing down at his phone, he looked at the time. 2:26 A.M. She really had such inconvenient timing. At this rate, he wasn’t going to get sleep until at least 4 A.M. His eyes glided down, looking at his lock-screen. A smile tugged at his lips at the familiar face. It was a photo of (Name) laughing, her navy peacoat draped over her shoulders and the collar of her dress pulled up. Kuroo had taken the photo when they went on their fancy dinner over a month ago.

He sighed, wiping his face with a hand as he got up. The sooner he left, the sooner he’d be back in bed. With one last grumble, he slid into a pair of sweats and an old volleyball hoodie as he made his way out of his apartment.

****

“The doctor did tell you last week that your cravings were going to get worse,” Kuroo teased as she opened the door for him. He’d visited four different convenience stores to find everything on her list. She ignored him, snatching the plastic bag out of his hands. (Name) waddled over to her sofa, plopping down as she rummaged through the bag. She pulled out the meat bun and onigiri, holding one in each hand as she took savage bites out of them.

“Oh my god, this is incredible,” she moaned, eyes squeezing shut in pleasure.

“Oh yes, please do that again, I just love hearing that,” Kuroo teased.

“Shut up rooster-head.” (Name) swallowed, pulling out the peach drink he got her. “Aw, Kuroo! You got me my favorite, you’re literally the best.” He shrugged, taking a seat beside her. He reached for the bag, only to have his hand smacked away. “No! Mine.”

“I literally brought it for you!” He argued. “Let me get my food, woman.” She pouted, before pushing the bag towards him. He laughed at the familiar sight.

It was post-practice during their third-year. Kuroo and Kenma were joining (Name) at her house for their weekly movie night. “Ooh, can we stop by the convenience store?”

“Didn’t you just eat?” Kuroo teased. She had eaten her second bento while they were taking a break during practice.

“So? If you guys are coming over to watch movies, we should have snacks!” She argued, stopping directly in front of the store. “Do you guys want anything?”

“I’m okay.” Kenma replied, barely glancing up. Kenma sat down on the bench as he continued playing on his DS.

“Suit yourself!” She grinned. “How about you, Kuroo?”

“I’ll go pick for myself, thank you.” They walked inside. “Knowing you, you’d pick something weird for me.”

“Hey, don’t you trust me?”

“No.”

She giggled, tapping his nose before skipping away. “You should! I practically raised you, y’know?”

“And why do you think that?”

“Well, I did save your ass in English,” she teased, squatting down to survey the snacks at the bottom row.

“Yeah well, you needed help in science. It cancels there.”

“Whatever,” she rolled her eyes. “You know you love me. And with love, comes trust!”

His heart skipped a beat. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, dear.” She rolled her eyes at his term of endearment. Kuroo picked up a bag of chips, choosing some more snacks as they made their way down the aisle. “What’s on the agenda for movies?”

(Name) hummed, paying for her snacks as they made their way outside. “Depends! I’m open for whatever.” She tugged Kenma off the bench before skipping off in front of them. Kuroo and Kenma stood beside one another as they trailed behind. Kuroo’s soft smile was not missed by the younger boy as he observed the female, (h/c) hair blowing back as she skipped. She hummed a tune from (favorite song) as she unlocked the door, dropping the snacks onto the table as she gestured to the couch. “Make yourselves comfortable!”

“Don’t we always?” Kenma muttered, sliding onto the reclining seat as (Name) bustled around to clean up the couch a bit. Kuroo plopped down onto the couch, kicking his legs up onto the table. She smacked his legs to make them fall off, ignoring his cry of indignation.

“I’ll be right back!” She ran upstairs towards her room.

“When are you going to tell her?”

Kuroo jumped, looking at his male best friend. “Tell her what?”

“That you have a thing for her.”

Kuroo’s cheeks flushed red. “No I don’t!”

“Sure. You totally weren’t watching her with a dopey smile either.” Kenma rolled his eyes, aggressively using combo moves in order to defeat the boss. “You’ve been in love with her for years now, we all know.”

Kuroo blanched. “Does she?”

“Nah, she’s just as dumb as you are when it comes down to it.”

“Why the hell am I coming down to Kenma saying that I’m dumb?” (Name) pouted, blankets bundled in her arms as she appeared at the doorway. Kuroo jumped, his blood freezing and heart clenching. “Not that I’m saying Kuroo isn’t, but I definitely am not!”

“Yes you are.”

Kuroo let out a high-pitched laugh, earning an odd look from (Name). Kenma just shook his head in distaste. “Is that all you heard?”

“Rude, Kenma! And yes, rooster-head, that’s all I heard.” She plopped down on the couch, spreading the blanket over their laps. Kuroo let out a sigh of relief as (Name) turned to Kenma, raising her brow. “So, pudding-pop, why am I dumb?”

“You’re just always dumb.” She leaned over to playfully shove him, causing Kenma to mess up. “(Name)!” He swore, glaring at the girl. Kuroo leaned down for the snack bag, only to have his hand smacked away by (Name). He glared at her as she rummaged through the bag, pulling out her own snacks before she handed him the bag.

“That’s your own fault, pudding-pop.” She laughed, before she leaned back against Kuroo. The captain’s heart lurched as he looked down. Her head was practically resting on his chest, her warmth seeping through his clothes to his heart. If loving someone felt like this, then he definitely didn’t mind.

She glanced at the clock, finishing the last of the snacks and throwing the trash into the bag. “There’s no reason for you to go home; I’d feel terrible if you drove home this late.” She bit her lip. “Why don’t you sleep in my bed tonight?” Kuroo looked at her, his eyebrows raised. When they were in middle-school, it wasn’t uncommon for them to share a bed. But once they had gotten to high-school, they were forced out of the habit— mainly due to rising hormones and fear of what others would think of them.

“Are you sure?” He hesitated. “I don’t want to intrude.”

“Just get in there, you big dummy.” She rolled her eyes, making her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She paused, standing in the doorway. Her eyes sparkled slightly as she looked at him. “Thanks for coming, Kuroo. I appreciate it.” She mumbled.

Kuroo grinned, “I’m just glad to be of service.” He stood up, brushing his pants as he slipped into her bedroom. Hazel eyes surveyed the room, it wasn’t that different from before. Her desk was neat and organized, there were medicinal posters up on her walls, and there were soft golden fairy-lights dangling along the side of the wall. He undressed, leaving him in his boxers as he slipped under the covers. The mattress was so soft, he’d have to ask her where she got it. The sound of running water turned off, and the clicks of light-switches caught his attention. He glanced at the glowing red numbers on her desk. It was already 4:40 A.M. Thank god it was the weekend tomorrow. The door opened, and she entered.

“Ugh, I forgot how big you are,” she grimaced, crossing her arms as she looked at him. “Budge up, will ya?” She was dressed in an oversized t-shirt, black panties peeking out from under them.

“And you’re hardly wearing clothes,” he taunted before scooting over.

“Oi, my house, my rules. If you’re gonna be weird about it, you’re more than welcome to sleep on the sofa.” He simply tsk’d in response, lifting the blanket up so that she could slide in beside him. “You say I’m hardly wearing anything, Kuroo you’re not even wearing a shirt!” She whined, her hand brushing against his chest.

“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,” he teased, blowing air onto her face.

“Don’t be such a prick.”

“Goodnight princess.”

A hum in response as her breathing got heavier. “G’night, Tetsu.” His heart stuttered.

****

(Name) groaned as the light filtered into the room, falling onto her face. She felt so warm and comfortable. Her attention was drawn to a weight on her waist. (E/c) eyes blinked at the chest that it was pressed against. Pulling back slightly, she looked up to see Kuroo’s sleeping face, a pillow pressed against his head. She stifled a giggle, taking in how relaxed the male looked. A sudden urge hit her. Oh shit, gotta pee, her eyes widened. Wiggling out of his arms carefully, she waddled to the bathroom. She might be pregnant, but the gods help her because she absolutely refused to have any sort of accident.

As she returned to her room, she couldn’t help but lean against the bed-frame as she looked down at his peaceful face.

“Kuroo, I don’t understand this,” she whined, burying her face in her palms. They’d been studying for hours now.

“What don’t you understand?”

“I keep getting the wrong answers.” With one hand, she shoved the book towards him, plopping her head onto the desk. “Can I just drop out of school and become a stripper?”

“No,” a bemused smile crossed his face, “it’s your last year. This is literally just high-school chemistry, that I’m helping you with. There will be no stripping here!”

She grunted into her arms. “You’re right, I doubt anyone would wanna see that anyways.”

Kuroo shifted uncomfortably. “That’s not true.”

(Name) lifted her face, freezing. He was so close. All she’d need to do is lean forward just a little bit. “Are you saying you would?” She breathed.

“Maybe.” He licked his lips, eyes wide. “Or maybe not. Maybe I just don’t want my best friend putting herself out like that.” Hazel eyes darted down to her lips. She could practically feel his lips against hers.

They sprung apart as the door suddenly crashed open, revealing Lev. “Senpai, I need help studying!”

“You gotta be quiet when you’re studying, you dumbass,” Kuroo retorted, cheeks slightly red. “Otherwise you bother everyone like you always do.”

“Don’t be mean to the baby tree,” (Name) scolded, her cheeks also glowing.

“Why are your faces red?” Lev cocked his head.

“It’s just hot in here,” (Name) stammered, sitting up straighter. “How can I help you study, Lev?” Lev plopped into the chair beside her, pushing his books towards her as he explained his issues. In the corner of her eyes, she surveyed Kuroo. Did they really almost kiss?

She shook her head, making her way back to her kitchen. She couldn’t be catching feelings now. Not for her best friend while she’s pregnant with her boyfriend’s— ex-boyfriend’s?— baby. She didn’t even want to think about how they were also best friends with one another. Silently, she wondered if these were feelings that she’d always secretly suppressed. It’s not like she’d never had a crush on Kuroo before. She’d had one when they were still in middle school, and she’d always assumed those were just one of those things that happened. With a more aggressive shake of her head, (Name) stepped into the kitchen, taking things out to make pancakes. As she hummed a familiar tune, cracking eggs into a bowl, she jumped. Warm arms snaked around her waist, a chest meeting her back.

“Well aren’t you cuddly this morning?” She chuckled, patting one of his arms affectionately. Kuroo just tightened his grip, burying his face into her shoulder. His breath warmed the back of her neck.

“Sleepy,” he muttered. “I blame you.”

(Name)’s giggle filled the kitchen, sounding like a windchime swaying in the breeze. “You didn’t have to help.” He awkwardly shrugged, tightening his grip as he rubbed his face into her shoulder, dangerously close to her neck. Goose-bumps raced along her skin. She leaned back in his caress, closing her eyes. The warmth of his body swept through her. “Hey, Kuroo?” He hummed in response. “Do you wanna move in?”

“Huh?” He rubbed his face into her shoulder, hiding his burning cheeks. Hoping that she couldn’t feel it. “Move in?”

“Yeah.” She hesitated. “I mean, you’re always over. And I feel bad calling you to come over late at night.” She took a deep breath. “It’s also kinda lonely, y’know? Like it’s basically just me here by myself after living here with Kou for so long.”

“That’s the last of the boxes, babe!”

“Finally!” Bokuto collapsed onto the couch, letting out a massive sigh. “That took so long.”

“That’s what happens when you move somewhere,” she giggled, perching herself beside him. (Name) looked affectionately around the house. After an entire day of moving things in, they’d unpacked (most) of their boxes. It was the end of their first year of college, and they’d decide to move off-campus into their own house for some privacy for the upcoming school-year. Excitement pulsed through her. She and Bokuto had just celebrated their first anniversary after years of friendship, and things had never been easier. Of course, the couple had their issues. Bokuto had issues balancing his school-work with club volleyball, and she’d been so overwhelmed with her classes and internship that it was difficult for them to find time together. But, it was all worth it in the end. Now, she’d fall asleep and wake up beside the love of her life every day. “Kou, what do you want for dinner?”

“I’m too lazy to eat,” Bokuto groaned, draping an arm over his eyes. She patted his arm.

“Too lazy to eat? I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that,” (Name) teased, elbowing him slightly. “Ah well, if you’re too lazy, maybe I’ll go get dinner all by myself. Alone. In our new neighborhood.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

She made a move to stand, only for arms to snake around her and throw her into the couch. (Name) giggled loudly, blinking up into golden pools as Bokuto hovered over her. He peppered kisses all around her face. “Let’s order in, and just spend our first night in our new home together, okay?” He murmured, brushing her hair away from her face as he drew her into a soft kiss. “Besides, I want to spend time with the love of my life in the place where we’ll raise our kids.” She gaped, tears welling up. His eyes were shut as he nudged her nose with his.

“Kids?”

He flushed, pulling back. “Well yeah, I wanna have kids with you.” He pulled her hand up to his lips, kissing the promise ring that sat there. “I promised you forever, didn’t I?” Arms wrapped around his neck, dragging him down to her as she slotted her lips against his.

“God I love you,” she whispered in between kisses.

“Y’know, this is a perfect time to break in that new bed,” he grinned.

“Kou!” She squealed, smacking his chest. Her eyelashes fluttered as she stared at him. Her heart had never felt so warm.

“Are you sure?” Kuroo pulled back, turning her so that she was facing him. “I don’t want to intrude.”

She nodded. “Yeah. If anything, we can put a bed in the nursery for now and you can stay there so you have your own space.” (Name) offered him a small smile. “Is that okay?”

“Well, if you insist,” Kuroo teased, tapping her nose. He grew serious. “I’d do anything for you, (Nickname).”

She wrapped her arms around him. “You’re the best, Kuroo.”

Fun facts

💟 Kuroo sleeps with D.N.D. on except for notifications from Kenma and (Name).

💟 (Name) typically craves onigiri and meat buns. Other things she craves are her usual study-hangout-movie night snacks.

💟 (Name) and Kenma both have a bad habit of staying up late. They usually call each other when they want company, but only Kuroo would actually get up and go visit one of them so late, so they’ll call him if they need something.

💟 Both Bokuto and Kuroo disagree about who introduced (Name) to her favourite peach drink. It was actually neither of them. Kenma introduced it to her during one of their movie nights.

💟 Kenma had known that Kuroo was pining for (Name) for years. He was tired of hearing/seeing it and warned him that someone else would ask her out if he didn’t get a move on. Kenma also almost confessed to (Name) on Kuroo’s behalf

💟 The last time Kuroo and (Name) shared a bed was their first semester of high-school. When she told one of her girlfriends, they shamed her for it so she stopped letting Kuroo sleepover.

💟 At training camp their first year, Kuroo forgot to pack a sleep shirt and wandered around Shinzen after curfew. (Name) was also out to get a drink of water and shrieked when she saw Kuroo because she thought he was a ghost.

💟 When Lev told the team about what he stumbled upon, he got his butt kicked by Yaku for cock-blocking. Lev was the only one on the team who didn’t realise the tension between (Name) and Kuroo.

💟 Bokuto randomly surprised (Name) with the keys to their new house after enlisting Akaashi’s help to plan and organise everything.

AN: Officially switched my update day to Thursdays! Please feel free to pop into my inbox if you have any questions, comments, or concerns 💞 I love interacting with you all!

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