#sidling in on brunch

[theoppositeofprofound]

Harrow: God’s Special Little Girl (Handpicked)

Gideon: God’s Special Little Girl (Whoops A-Daisy Baby)

Ianthe: God’s Special Little Girl (Self Identified)

[babydollmarauders]

CLUMSY — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

summary: quinn and luke realize how clumsy y/n is after noticing how often jack unconsciously keeps her from harm

notes: y/n is written sensitive and clumsy! also, i wrote this on saturday to have something to post this week while i’m unable to write <3

i’ve met my boyfriends family on numerous occasions since we started dating in october. mostly through quick trips such as Quinn coming into town for a game against the Devils and whatnot, but this is my first time spending an elongated amount of time with them and i have this irrational fear that they’ll dislike me.

Jack has assured me multiple times since we’ve arrived at the lake house for the summer that i have no reason to worry, but it’s been four days and i still feel like they’re forming their opinions on me. so, i’ve taken it upon myself to do whatever i can in order to get them to like me; including my current task of baking cookies.

“you know they already love you, right?” Jack asks, standing at the counter beside me, observing as i mix the dry ingredients into a bowl. “you don’t need to bake them cookies.”

“are you saying you don’t want my sea salt chocolate chip cookies?” i keep focused on the task at hand, my sight never leaving the measuring cup as i scoop the flour into the bowl.

“now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” a hearty chuckle escapes his lips as he maneuvers himself behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist as he clings himself to me, his cheek resting pressed against my shoulder blade. “i definitely want your cookies. i’m just saying that my brothers don’t need them.”

i giggle as his fingers tickle at the bits of my sides where my shirt has risen, arching my back to try and escape his hands. Jack groans as i break free from his grip, but i assume it’s mostly due to his brothers entering the kitchen.

“ooh, what are you making?” Luke wonders, coming to a stop on the opposite side of the counter.

“cookies!” i grin, finally looking up as i finish the dry ingredients.

“yum.” Quinn chimes in, sidling into the spot beside Luke. he peers into the bowl and his brows furrow slightly. “y/n, that’s just powder?”

i bark out a laugh at the clueless boy.

“Quinny, you have to mix the dry ingredients first. then the wet ingredients such as eggs, butter and vanilla. and then you mix them both together to form the dough.” i explain. i scan the countertop, making sure i have each item needed for the next step. “i need another bowl.”

i bend down, opening the lower cupboard and reaching for the metal mixing bowl inside.

“Trevor texted me this morning.” i hear Jack inform the boys.

“yeah? when’s he coming up?” Quinn asks.

“in two weeks. but Alex is getting here tomorrow.” Jack says. i shut the cupboard door, stretching my legs to rise back up from my position. my head bumps Jack’s hand, wrapped around the lip of the counter above where i was bent.

my left hand rubs the top of the back of my head super quick as i set the mixing bowl on the counter. i glance back up as Luke and Quinn share an amused look and my face scrunches in confusion.

what did i miss?

**

Jack’s left arm rests on my shoulders, my face half buried into his chest as he scrolls on his phone. Quinn and Luke sit in armchairs on opposite sides of the couch as Alex sits on the opposite side of Jack. a movie plays on the tv, but i’m momentarily distracted by Ellen walking past the back of the couch, calling out a goodnight.

“goodnight El!” i call back as she makes her way to the stairs, the boys all muttering their own goodnight’s.

“brunch tomorrow, while the boys golf?” she asks, confirming our plans. i nod and she grins, blowing a kiss towards the group of us as she finally walks up the stairs.

“you guys are going to brunch tomorrow? without us?!” Luke asks, his hand coming up to his chest in mock offense.

“you guys are going golfing tomorrow, without us! it’s only fair.” i laugh and Alex chuckles.

“y/n/n, you don’t even like golf. you said it’s boring and called it ‘watered down hockey’.” Alex points out as i burrow back into Jack’s side.

“shh, i’m watching the movie.” i shush him, making the boys laugh. Jack turns back to his phone and i watch through one peeked open eye as he double taps on his teammate’s most recent instagram post before typing out some nonsense comment that i’ll never understand.

pulling back, i lock my eyes on the remote on the coffee table. sliding forward some, i lean, stretching my fingertips out to try and grab it. finally getting ahold of it, i go to lean back, wobbling forward and accepting my fate. i brace myself to fall before feeling a hand grab onto the back of my shirt. yanking me back, Jack pulls me back into his side, his eyes still glued to his phone. i heave out a small relieved sigh as i press a kiss to his chest before turning the volume up on the tv.

i glance around the living room to the other boys, gauging how interested they are in the movie, but Luke and Quinn are exchanging a look. Luke biting back a smile as Quinn smirks.

what did i miss this time?

**

with the boys friends all finally arriving, the lake house has become much too crowded to hang out inside. so instead we’re all outside, gathered around a fire that was once blazing but now dwindling. my boyfriend jokes around with Cole and Trevor, Luke speaking with his University of Michigan teammates, Ethan and Dylan, and lastly Quinn sits sipping a beer as he chats with Alex and the Tkachuk’s.

making myself scarce in order to not cling to my boyfriends side as he tries to enjoy himself, i text with my own friends from back in New Jersey as i balance on the edge of the brick fire pit, circling it as i type.

“be careful, babe.” Jack warns me, and i grin and throw him a thumbs up. he barely gives me a second glance before Trevor takes up his attention, reciting a story of something that happened to he and his friend Jamie back in California.

i continue pacing around on the elevated bricks, typing a long winded message to Leah, explaining why she shouldn’t call her ex. as i pass by my boyfriend once more, i’m not paying as close attention as i probably should be, my foot getting a little too close to the inner edge as i start to slip.

a hand grips my elbow, pulling me back to a standing position before i can fall into the fire and i look over to see Jack, his attention still on Trevor and his hand wrapped around my arm as he nods his head at his friend while he continues ranting. i give a light pat to Jack’s shoulder to let him know i’m fine and he releases his grip.

slipping my phone into my pocket, i continue my journey around the fire pit again, this time with more of my focus going into keeping upright. passing Luke, i see him looking away from his friends, and i follow his line of sight to his brother, Quinn looking right back at him. both wear an entertained appearance and i look around to see if i can find what they’re smiling about but come up empty-handed.

why do i keep missing these things?

**

with today being one of the hottest days of the summer, we’re all crowded on the boat. most of the group lounges around conversing with one another, Luke currently taking his turn wakesurfing as music blares from Quinn’s bluetooth speaker.

i’m sat in Jack’s lap, rubbing my third layer of sunscreen on my legs and the tops of my feet.

“babe, i think you’ve got enough.” Jack laughs, his hands grip my waist to keep me from falling as i’m leaned forward.

“i just wanna make sure. the UV index is super high today and you know how easily i burn.” i tell him, sitting back upright as i flip the cap of the sunscreen closed once more.

“i know, sugar. but we’ve only been out here for two hours and that’s your third time applying it. i think you’re okay for a while.” he takes the lotion from my hands, handing the bottle over to Cole. “put that in the bag next to you, eh?”

Cole nods, placing the sunscreen into the waterproof zip up bag i brought on the boat.

“y/n/n! c’mere!” Luke shouts, making me untangle myself from Jack. i rise to my feet, shuffling over to the back of the boat and leaning over to get closer in order to hear him better.

“you gonna let her get that close to the edge, Rowdy?” Quinn questions, making the boys laugh.

“what?” Jack asks. “what do you mean?”

“she’s a bit clumsy, is she not? we’ve noticed you all summer, keeping her from hurting herself.” Quinn replies through chuckles. even Alex, who drives the boat barks out a laugh.

“wait, when did i do that?” Jack wonders.

“all the time! you weren’t even paying attention when you did it!” Luke shouts and i stick my tongue out at him before turning to observe the boys.

“there was the first time Luke and i noticed it, when you wrapped your hand over the counter to make sure she didn’t hit her head. and you were right to do so because she bumped it right on your hand.” Quinn explains.

“or when she was reaching off the couch to grab the remote and you caught her by her shirt to keep her from falling. and you didn’t even look up from your phone as you did it!” Luke says as he climbs back on the boat.

“or how about when she was balancing on the fire pit and you caught her by the arm to keep her from falling straight into the fire. while you kept all your attention on Trevor. didn’t even look, you just reached a hand out and grabbed her.” Quinn provides another example. “i can go on.”

“i didn’t even realize i was doing all that.” Jack shrugs, glancing towards me. “i guess it’s just unconscious reaction. i’ve gotten used to it by now.”

“i’m not clumsy.” i pout, crossing my arms over my chest.

“it’s okay, it’s not necessarily a bad thing!” Trevor attempts to comfort me. i give him a side-eye, making my way over to Jack. but before i can sit in his lap, i slip. Jack’s arms wrap around my waist to keep me from dropping to the floor, pulling me down onto his thighs instead.

“you are pretty clumsy, babe.” one of Jack’s arms stays planted across my waist, holding me to him as his index finger pushes my chin up so i’m looking up at him. “but, it’s adorable.”

i bury my face in his chest out of embarrassment. i didn’t think i was clumsy. i mean, i know i’ve always been a bit accident prone; broken glasses, falling a bit more than my friends. but i didn’t think i was clumsy.

“it’s nothing to be ashamed of, y/n.” Quinn tells me. Jack’s hand trails up and down my back as he whispers reassurances in my ear.

“yeah, we didn’t mean to embarrass you or anything.” Luke pipes up once more, his voice seeping with regret.

“that’s why you kept looking at each other all the time.” my words are muffled by Jack’s chest, but by the way that Jack coos as he places a kiss on the top of my head, i know they heard them. “you were laughing at me.”

“we weren’t. i swear we weren’t.” Quinn’s voice is closer now, and i feel another hand touch my back. “we were laughing with you. we just thought it was funny that Jack didn’t even notice when he was doing it.”

“honest?” i question.

“honest. i promise.” my head rises at Luke’s voice, closer now as well. his hand comes up to rest on my knee and i look over to see him squatted down beside Jack and i, Quinn sitting next to us.

“i didn’t realize i was clumsy.” i confess. “i just thought it was normal.”

“i gotta say, you’re definitely the first girlfriend i’ve ever had to pull away from falling into an actual fire.” Jack chuckles, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “but i wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“really?”

“really. i love you. clumsiness and all.” he tells me. his grip gets tighter around me and i crane my neck to crash my lips into his.

“ugh, gross!” Trevor exclaims. Jack pulls back, leaning his forehead against mine.

“shut up, Z.” he grins, pulling me into one more kiss. “now, you ready to learn how to wakesurf?”

“yeah, no. even before i knew i was considered clumsy, i knew i wasn’t going out there. i’ll fall straight on my face, Jacky. i mean seriously, i’m a clutz!”

[angstfactory]

@emupowell

It occurred to Fitzroy that morning, there was one person he hadn't yet checked in on since coming back to town. Mostly because his mother, especially, had kept most of his days busy. Today, for instance, she had pushed him into the local jewelers shop so that he could -- her words -- start picking out a ring.

Oof, hearing that.. Standing in that store.. Seeing the rings..

Fitzroy felt a certain kind of heaviness that hadn't been there before. His mother's voice just continued Charlie Browning in his ear, the young male barely managing to remember to acknowledge her with a nod and smile each time she glanced his way for confirmation. "Yeah, absolutely, stunning piece," the Brit murmured this or variations of it, as his thumb scratched under eye and he stamped down the urge to bolt. This wasn't a feeling he was used to dealing with-- Fitzroy had been prepared for all of this, for years. Hell, he recalled being eight years old, when they talked so frankly about how they'd find him someone great, some nice and appropriate young lady. It'd been an inevitable thing.

As soon as he was able to pry himself away, Fitzroy's hands came to rest in his pockets as he walked the couple blocks over to The Golden Spoon, to see if Emily was even on shift. Luck would have it, he'd find her just outside of it. His mouth pulled into a crooked smile as he sidled up to her. "Just the person I was thinking of," Fitzroy greeted the young woman warmly. "I thought earlier at brunch-- what's Powell been up to?" His head tilted as he considered her. "So, how have you been, Em?"

[hollygl125]

nine people I want to get to know better:

Fun! 💛 Thanks for the tag, @clintbeifong (via @adhdandanxietyandbearsohmy, but I am posting on main)!

LAST SONG? Something off Linda Ronstadt’s Simple Dreams album, which I played on a loop last night. Her statement on the U.S. election and a certain crazed, bigoted, would-be dictator-in-chief reminded me that when I was really little my favourite album was by her (this one, I think, at least in part because I liked her pretty pink dress on the cover). So I have been on a bit of a Linda Ronstadt kick.

Also, now I kind of want to emulate this look.

FAVOURITE COLOUR? I’m more of a winter person. I like a variety of blues and turquoises.

CURRENTLY WATCHING? I’ve been watching Monk as my background show. It’s kind of amusing and comforting and doesn’t require me to be super involved. It’s not going to make me fall down any rabbit holes, but it’s still enjoyable.

So far it’s had a number of guest stars who also appeared as guests on CSI, which probably isn’t a surprise considering when it was filmed. I was most amused when Marc Vann had a scene. But when Christopher Wiehl showed up I wanted to throw something at the screen. (Honestly he looked kind of hot, which only annoyed me more.)

LAST MOVIE? Back in July I finally emptied my (outrageously overpriced!) storage locker, which is where my nice TV was hiding, so I started (re)watching To Live and Die in L.A., for the first time in 4k, a couple of weeks ago when I first got sick with COVID. I still have to go back to finish it.

SWEET/SPICY/SAVOURY? Sweet + savoury together = the best, honestly. You need to go for breakfast/brunch with someone who will split the eggs (with hollandaise!) + pancakes/waffles/french toast (with maple syrup, and ideally berries and whipped cream!) with you.

RELATIONSHIP STATUS? Single.

CURRENT OBSESSIONS? I am still down the same rabbit hole with our two lovely science nerds. 🐰💕🐰

LAST THING YOU GOOGLED? Further to the above-mentioned Linda Ronstadt kick, I’ve been looking up information relating to her and her 1970s tour dates and photos (most specifically her show at the Greek Theatre in Berkeley on September 17, 1977—the day after Sara Sidle’s sixth birthday). Almost against my own will, I wound up writing a short fic scene relating to Laura Sidle having been a fan back in the ’70s and having played Ronstadt’s records for her young daughter.

If anyone else would like to participate, please consider this me tagging you! 💛

[nikolashatzi]

who → @nessituran where → brunch and barrel

"Can I get an autograph?" Nick smiled and nodded, "of course, no problem." He said as he scanned the room looking for an out, seeiing a familiar brunette was his ticket. It was his favorite meal of the day when he could manage to actually make it happen, and usually, especially here, he always could. But he was a generational talent, and that spanned well, the generation. It didn't help that he was named People's Sexist man, but he was engaged at the time, so he didn't care. But he wasn't anymore and now it followed him-- haunted really.

"Would you mind a picture?" The girl continued with a smile and it took everything in the man to not sigh, "of course." He said again, like it was his only programmed response. She sidled up to him, and he put an arm around her shoulder and smiled as her friend took the picture. They swapped, he repeated the process before looking to his exit, "hey, I'm actually meeting someone, so if you wouldn't mind." Nick smiled one more time before walking to the empty seat, momentarily at least, with his name on it, "you don't have to eat with me." He said, an apologetic smile on his face, "but if I could steal twenty minutes I'll owe you one."

[readyforthegarden]

maybe “if there’s nothing going on there, you don’t mind if i ask her out, do you?” and “you're still hung up on your ex.” with Jake 👀

Oh this one was fun to write! It got a little long, I'm sorry about that!

“Man, she is stunning.” Jake’s jaw clenched at Sam’s compliment of you. His little brother had peered over his shoulder as he was looking at your latest Instagram update, letting out a low whistle. You were posed leaning against a brick half-wall outside your favorite brunch spot, wearing the pastel blue sundress that made near nightly appearances in Jake’s fantasies. “How do you know her, again?”

“We were friends in college.” Jake muttered, double tapping the photo and locking his phone screen. It was only a few moments later his phone buzzed in his hand.

‘Hey! Can’t wait for your show tonight. Thanks again for inviting me!’

“Oh she’s coming tonight?” Sam grinned.

“Yeah, Josh and I invited a few people since we’re close to home.” Jake could see the wheels turning in his little brothers head as smirk tugged the corner of his lips.

"Nice." Sam nodded, beginning to walk away. "Can't wait to meet her." Jake inwardly groaned. Even he had to admit, Sam had a charm about him that made girls melt at his attentions, and the fact that he got the genetics that made him tower over nearly everyone didn't help facts. Jake sighed, typing back a quick message to you and sliding his phone back into his pocket and starting to get ready for that nights show.

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

Before the show, the small group of friends that the twins had invited trickled in to the venue, and Jake couldn't help the excited flutter in his stomach when he got your text that you'd arrived. He hurried out of the green room, flashing his pass at the guard as he went outside. You were standing, talking to one of the security guards outside, laughing at something as Jake approached.

"Hey, she's with me." Jake showed the guard his pass. You grinned at Jake as the guard let you through the gate.

"Jakey!" you greeted, wrapping your arms around his shoulders in a hug. Jake wrapped his around your waist, tugging you in as close as he could. You still smelled just how he remembered, the light and sweet floral scent of your perfume filling his nostrils, easing his nerves a bit. "God, I've missed you! How are you? You know, other than being a super cool mysterious rockstar?"

"Aw come on," Jake laughed as he regretfully pulled away from you. "I'm not that mysterious." your laugh rang out again, like music to his ears. "I've been good. Tour can kick my ass sometimes, but it's a dream come true. How've you been?"

"Really good!" you went on to tell him all about the project you were working on for the marketing job you had as he escorted you into the building. As the two of you entered the green room, Josh's voice rang out.

"Mon chou!" Josh moved through the small gathering and wrapped you in a hug.

"Josh speaks French?" Sam had sidled over to Jake, spotting you and him enter.

"Je parle un peu français." Josh shrugged once he let you go.

"We were in a French class together for half a semester." you giggled. "Mon chou is supposed to mean 'my sweet', but translates to 'my cabbage' in english. Josh thought it was funny to call me cabbage for a full year."

"That's Josh," Sam chuckled. "Lame joke central. Hi, I'm Sam."

"I thought so." you took his outstretched hand. "It's nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you."

"All bad, I hope." Sam wiggled his eyebrows and you blushed, make Jake grit his teeth.

"Mostly bad." you nodded.

"Hey, we've got some drinks over here, would you like something?" Sam asked, moving between the three of you and wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "I make a killer marg."

"O-Oh, sure." you smiled as he led you away, peeking over your shoulder at Jake before Sam spoke again, taking your attention again.

"Well, I give him four hours before they're all over each other." Josh mused, glancing at his twin. Jake glared at him and Josh shrugged. "Hey, Sam's not chicken shit, he wants to make a move, he'll make one."

"I'm not chicken shit either, asshole." Jake muttered. He watched as Sam told you a story as he mixed your cocktail, grinning and making hand gestures. You were sucked into his little brothers personality already. Josh was right. It was only so long before he'd find you pressed against a wall under Sam, just like all his other conquests.

During the show, Jake noticed Sam peacocking in front of you. Of course, it drove the fans in the crowd wild as he took of his suit jacket, running a hand through his hair. He'd occasionally glance over to you, shooting you a wink and smirk. Jake couldn't bear to look and see your reactions, putting his frustration into his music, playing harder than he ever had.

"You guys were awesome!" you cheered as they made their way backstage after finishing the show. "Oh my gosh, I was near tears there, it's everything you talked about in school, Jake! I'm so proud of you."

"Thanks." Jake gave her a big smile, not being able to let his annoyance with his brother's flirting overcome the high from the crowd. "I'm glad you were able to make it."

"Jake, really." you gushed. "You're living your dream, I'm so happy for you." Jake blushed as you took his hand and squeezed it.

"How'd you like the show?" Sam sauntered over, pushing his hair back from his face.

"I was just telling Jake, you guys are amazing." you smiled. Jake squeezed your hand back. "Truly, how you guys come up with your music...it's great."

"Well, I'll tell you how I came up with this one part in-" Sam tried to put his arm around your shoulders when you crinkled your nose, holding up both your hands in front of you.

"Oh, no offense, you're incredibly sweaty." you chuckled. Jake smirked. "And I have to run to the restroom. I'll meet you guys in the green room." you walked away in search of the bathrooms and Jake smiled at your backside.

"If there’s nothing going on there, you don’t mind if i ask her out, do you?” Sam whispered to Jake as they headed towards the green room. "I think she's digging my vibe. I'd like to dig her-Ow!"

"Respect her." Jake growled at his little brother, smacking his shoulder.

"So I can ask her out?" Sam asked again. Jake sighed. "I'm taking that as a yes. Cross your fingers for me!"

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

The after party in the hotel suite was loud and crowded, and Jake stood on his tip toes to try and find you. Just as he had predicted earlier, you were leaning against the wall, Sam standing closely in front of you, almost casual as one of his hands supported his weight next to your head. He was pulling all the moves out tonight, and it seemed like you were buying it, hook line and sinker. After a few moments, Jake saw Sam's head dip down like he was about to kiss you, and Jake stormed out of the room, out to the balcony for some fresh air.

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

"So, you're still hung up on your ex?" Sam pouted. You nodded and tried to look put out.

"I'm sorry, Sam." you patted his upper arm. "You seem really sweet, and you're incredibly charming. But it wouldn't be fair to you, when I'm thinking of someone else. I couldn't use you like that."

"I understand." Sam nodded, pressing a chaste kiss to your cheek. "But if you ever do want to use me, you have my number."

"Yeah, I'll let you know." you chuckled. You watched as Jake barreled through the party, and you furrowed your brows, watching him head outside. "I'll be right back."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Surprisingly, Jake was the only one out here, and as he pulled a cigarette from the pack in his jacket pocket, placing it between his lips while patting himself for his lighter to no avail. Suddenly, a flame was in front of him. Jake leaned forward and lit his cigarette before straightening, glancing at the fire holder.

"What do you want?" Jake huffed before taking a drag.

"You looked upset, so I came out here to check on you." you shrugged. "Everything okay?"

"I'm fine." Jake deadpanned. "I'm sure Sam is missing you right now."

"Oh I'm sure he is." you mused, placing your hands on the metal railing of the balcony, looking out at the city. "I had to tell him a lie to get him to leave me alone."

"You what?"

"Yeah. Told him I was still hung up on my ex." you nodded. "That seemed to pour some water on his fire."

"Yeah, that'll do it." Jake mused. It was silent between the two of you for a bit, and then you spoke up.

"Well, it might not have been a total lie." you sighed. "I'm still hung up on this one guy..."

"Oh?" Jake felt his throat tighten a bit. The last thing he wanted, after watching his little brother flirt with you all day was you talk about another guy.

"Yeah, we went on two dates in college." you continued. "He played guitar, was really sweet, but for some reason we never went out again...then he got his band with his brothers and their friend and I didn't see him for a while."

"Wait, what?" Jake dropped his cigarette, and you both watched it tumble to the ground below you.

"Yeah, Jake." you rolled your eyes. "I've always had a thing for you. After you didn't ask me out again, I thought you just wanted to be friends."

"God." Jake shook his head. "I tried to be romantic and write you a letter, asking you out again. Did Josh never give it to you?" you shook your head. "Fucking hell, Josh."

"So...." you bit your lip. "I know you're a big rockstar now, but what do you think? Maybe we could have a make-up date?" Jake grinned, coming close to you and putting his hands on your waist.

"I would love that." he said, leaning down and pressing a tender kiss to your lips. "What are you doing two and a half months from now?" you squinted, pretending to run through a list in your head, muttering fake to-do list things.

"Mm, I think I'm free." you and Jake laughed. "But how about breakfast tomorrow?"

"Sounds amazing." you hopped up on your tiptoes, kissing Jake again. "By the way, remind me to beat the crap outta Josh."

[outerbankies]

new light part 4: underneath the moonlight — rafe cameron

new light series masterlist

summary: you and rafe meet the parents (properly) and go to midsummers together, but not everyone is as smitten with your relationship as you two are.

pairing: rafe x kook reader

warnings: drinking, swearing

a/n: say hello to a few characters (tw: ward) i have had yet to feature thus far 🤗 more of y/n being besties with kelce (and topper this time—our fave obx himbo) there’s a lil drama in this part y’all... into the thick of it. thanks for all the feedback 💖not canon rafe

my writing

yeah if you give me just one night, to meet you underneath the moonlight

You’re startled awake by a loud knock on your bedroom door. You’re squished between 6 feet and 3 inches worth of boy and the pink wall your bed is pushed up against. Rafe always insisted on laying on your outer side, closest to the door of your bedroom. Which means you often woke up pressed into the wall, your neck sometimes aching from the awkward angle. Not to mention Wilbur always taking up the space at your feet, Rafe usually nudging him into your space so he could stretch out.

Rafe stirs also, making sleepy noises and stretching his legs where they hang off the end of your bed. He grumbles and smacks his lips together a few times, your hand instinctively coming to rub along his jaw. His eyes flutter open as the sun streams in through your window, illuminating the hint of golden stubble on his chin. You’d only slept over together a few times, since you were both staying with your parents for the summer, so it’s always nice to wake up with your boy in your bed.

Oh fuck. Your boy is in your bed.

Rafe's eyes widen at the same time as yours.

“Oh shit, we fell asleep?” he whispers, head whipping around your room.

“Fuck, you have to hide right now,” you whisper, stumbling through your thoughts sleepily.

Another knock sounds from the door.

You extract yourself from your spot between Rafe and the wall, his hands guiding you by your hips as you tumble over him.

“Just, fuck, just like—get under the covers or something. God, I hope it’s not my dad,” you whisper.

“Me too,” he says, slinking into the gap between your bed and the wall as best he can, covering his face with a pillow.

You check that he’s concealed enough, turning to open the door just the slightest bit. Dylan stands in the crack.

“We have brunch at the Club in an hour, mom wanted me to ask if you invited Rafe,” he peers around you, gaze moving to behind your shoulder. “Or I could just ask him myself. Sup, Rafe?”

“Shut the fuck up, Dyl,” you whisper-shout. “Where are mom and dad? Can he sneak out the back? And don’t lie to me, or I’ll tell them about Hilton Head.”

“God, calm down. Dad’s in the garage and mom’s getting ready. Just have him go now.”

“Thanks,” you say, all but slamming the door in his face. You turn around and press your back against the door, letting out a shaky breath.

The covers rustle, and Rafe springs out of your bed to gather his things while Wilbur watches him. He always starts pouting when he notices that Rafe is putting on his hat or shoes, signs that he’s about to leave.

“We are so dead.”

“You don’t think he’ll say anything, do you? I don’t think I can sit at brunch with your dad in an hour if he knows I slept in your bed last night.”

“Not if he’s smart,” you sigh. “Want me to walk you out?”

“No, I got it. Just keep Willy in here. I’ll text you when I make it out alive. If you don’t hear from me, just assume your father murdered me,” he jokes, leaning down to give you a kiss after he slips his shoes on. “See you back here in an hour?”

“Yes, please be early. And clean shaven.”

“Yes ma’am. And don’t insult me,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Nervous?”

“Not nearly as nervous as I will be if I get caught, sweetheart. Gotta go so I have time to shower—and shave. See you in a bit.”

He gives you one last kiss before he departs, and you move to the window with Wilbur to watch him slink across the backyard, arms crossed and a fond grin on your face. He turns and blows you one last kiss before he disappears around the side of your house.

—

“Y/n, can I speak to you for a second?”

Your dad’s voice comes from his study as you pass by, checking yourself over in the entryway mirror one more time. Rafe should be here any minute.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“Come sit,” he says, gesturing to one of the chairs in front of his desk. You feel the hair stand up on the back of your neck. Your dad only invited you to talk in his study if it was something serious. The last time he did was when he told you he was going to take away your Range Rover if you didn’t pull your Bs up to As your freshman year of college. You’ve had a 4.0 ever since.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, everything’s fine. Just wanted to talk about the new boyfriend.”

“What about him?”

“I always knew of him while the two of you were growing up. But I talked to him a bit back during Dylan’s grad week.”

As an unruly teenager and the rightful heir to his father's business, everyone in the Outer Banks knew about Rafe and his antics. Good or bad. You could even recall your mom gossiping to your dad, words passed on from Rose, about some of his more... notable incidences.

“Y-yeah, he's...” you trail off, searching for the right words to describe Rafe these days.

“Seems like a good kid,” your dad supplies.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“Business, mostly. His future and whatnot.”

“Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”

“No, I just wonder... are you sure about this one? When you were kids, that boy was always causing trouble. And you know your mother and I were always so proud of how you stayed in line.”

“I know,” you sigh. “But Rafe’s not a boy anymore. Just give him a chance.”

“I will,” your dad says, slapping his knees to stand up. “But I'm also gonna give him a hard time.”

“Dad, please.”

“It’s my job. Your mom gets to freak out about Dylan moving out, and I get to handle scaring every man who gets to look at you.”

The doorbell rings.

“Please. I am literally begging.”

Your dad draws a fake halo around his head, and you just roll your eyes.

The morning gets off to an even more embarrassing start as soon as Rafe crosses the threshold into your house. Wilbur jumps into his arms immediately, all ninety pounds of him, and your mom’s eyes widen.

“My goodness, he’s usually so hesitant around strangers!”

Dylan chokes on a laugh, and if you weren’t across the room you’d have elbowed him in the ribs.

“Oh, I’ve walked Wilbur by Tanneyhill before.”

“Yeah, I-I love Willy. Mrs. Y/l/n, it’s so nice to see you again,” Rafe says, effortlessly following your lead after Wilbur scampers out of his hold. He shakes your mom’s hand politely. Your dad sidles up to her then, fixing Rafe with a stare harder than you’d prefer. “Mr. Y/l/n, you as well. Thanks again, to both of you, for inviting me.”

“Good to see you, Rafe,” your dad says, a strong hand clamping onto his shoulder. “Dylan, come say hi.”

Dylan’s grin is devilish, and you're just watching on in pure horror at this point. “How have you been, Rafe? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

—

Rafe’s grinning ear to ear, hand firm on your thigh, all of the windows in his truck rolled down. He even popped the sun roof, letting you blast your playlist all the way down the road.

“Okay—I just... did that go well?”

“You did great, Rafe.”

Despite Dylan's best efforts to embarrass you two, brunch had gone really well. Your dad took a second to let his guard down, unlike your mother who was immediately gushing over him. You could practically see the wheels in her head turning, the wedding colors she'd picked for you. And your dad came around quick enough once Rafe brought up Formula 1.

Your boyfriend looks so relieved, hand even coming to feel the air pass through his fingers as he hangs his arm out the window, hand on your thigh coming back up to steady the wheel. He taps on it excitedly.

“Lowkey, feel like I nailed it, baby.”

“Okay,” you giggle, leaning over to peck his check. You pull him in with a soft hand to the other side of his face. “Let’s not get too big for our britches.”

“Oh, I’m a parent-meeting expert now. Might go into consulting.”

“You’ve perfected the sport?” you joke.

“No, no. That’s—I’ve never actually met parents before,” he admits.

“No way?”

“Way? Have you?” he asks, slight edge seeping into his tone as he pulls up to the stoplight outside of your favorite coffee spot.

“Uh... once. We weren’t even really dating yet, but they came to visit and he like, ambushed me with them at dinner. They were kinda hippies, though.”

“Yeah?” His tone is clipped as he parks his truck.

“Yeah, some guy from my comparative literature class sophomore year,” you sigh. “But, you’re the first to meet my parents.”

“Mm,” he hums, fingers tapping on your knee. That satisfies him. He gathers one of your hands in his. “You coming in?”

“Will you just get me a latte? Kinda wanna call my mom and debrief.”

He laughs, kissing your knuckles. “I’ll give you a minute, sweetheart. Oat milk?”

—

Your original plans to meet the Camerons fell through, a last minute staging emergency arising when you were all supposed to go for dinner. You’d tried not to look down while Rafe attempted in earnest to cheer you up, telling you how pretty you looked while you took out your earrings and let your hair down. He'd kissed the crown of your hair and apologized profusely, promising they would love you when they finally got to meet you.

“M’not upset.”

“Okay.” His hand stroked your back through the thick cotton of one of his old water polo sweatshirts he’d let you borrow for the night.

“I’m just really nervous about meeting them. You might’ve set the bar a little too high with my parents.”

“You just have a great family.”

“I don’t know,” you said when you finally cracked a smile. “Made it pretty far on your first try.”

“Don’t worry. They’re going to love you, sweetheart.”

You let him kiss your cheek, your forehead, your nose and chin.

“Hope so.”

“Know so.”

And Rafe had somehow convinced your father to let you go to Midsummers with his family, promising to join up for pictures and greetings later. Your dad had willingly let him, to your surprise.

The event was a big deal to Figure 8 patriarchs and matriarchs alike, always trying to outdo the other in every way, all while feigning some sense of island camaraderie. But when Rafe had set aside time at brunch to specifically ask your family for their permission to accompany you to the event, they’d been hard pressed to say no. Your family immediately accepted Rafe as your boyfriend, any lingering hesitations about his character drowned out by the equal chances of your personal happiness and the heightening of their social and business profiles.

But he’d still come to your house to pick you up, ready to greet your parents in the foyer once again.

He takes one look at you in that blush pink dress, hair, makeup and jewelry all done up this time around, daisy flower crown in place, and flicks his eyes around his surroundings. Your father and Dylan were nowhere in sight, and your mother was busy fixing her earrings in the hall. He takes to your side immediately, a kiss to the side of your head followed by his lips pressing against your ear. “I’m fucking obsessed with you.”

With the high from those words, you ride in his truck to Midsummers, nerves never dissipating no matter how many reassurances he speaks across the summer air streaming in through the vehicle. “Remember, they’re gonna love you.”

He helps you down from his truck so you can focus on keeping your dress off the ground, assuring you for the fiftieth time that Rose is going to like your headpiece.

“Miss Y/l/n, how lovely to see you again you at last,” Ward sighs, sounding somewhat fond. “Rafe’s been talking my ear off about this, meeting you again even though we’ve already met. Sorry we couldn’t make it work earlier.”

“No worries, Mr. Cameron. Thank you so much for inviting me to tag along with your family at Midsummers. You as well, Mrs. Cameron. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you! And of course,” Rose says, bringing you in for a hug, one you definitely were not expecting.“You’re out in California, aren’t you?”

“Yes, home for the summer.”

“That’s a long way from here,” Ward says. His eyes flicker to Rafe. “Long way from Georgia. Shorter, but still a long way.”

“Dad, c’mon,” Rafe cuts in, and you can feel his hand gripping the back of your dress:

“He’s just stating the obvious, Rafe,” Rose intervenes.

“Yeah, it is far,” you agree. Rafe’s head whips around back to you.

“We’re figuring it out,” he says. To anyone else in the vicinity, he probably sounds confident and self assured. But you know Rafe, and you can look into his eyes and see that he’s not. That if he weren’t in front of his entire family, trying earnestly to impress his father, he’d have said: ‘we’re gonna figure it out, right?’

“I’m sure things will work out the way they’re meant to,” Ward says after a lapse in conversation. “One way or another.”

“Let’s get some photos so we can all enter and the two of you can run off,” Rose says immediately after, giving neither of you the time to say anything else.

You do your best to shake off Ward’s comment as the four of you join up with the Cameron daughters, plus Sarah’s boyfriend, John B. After posing for what felt like hours, the photographer asks you and John B to hop out so they can take some family pictures, the two of you swiping up a couple of Old Fashioneds from the bar. You have to assure Rafe twice that you’ll be okay for ten minutes on your own.

“First time meeting Ward?” Sarah’s boyfriend asks, leaned up against the bar like he owns the place.

“Er—of course not,” you say, like it’s obvious. But of course John B knew nothing about Figure 8 social circles. “Just the first time as Rafe’s girlfriend.”

“Yeah, you look nervous,” he admits, chuckling when your mouth drops open. “It’s not too obvious, I just know because—been in your shoes.”

You should be insulted that the teenager compares his and Sarah’s relationship with yours and Rafe’s, but you know he isn’t being malicious. You see nothing but kindness in his eyes. And it’s nice to have somewhat of a teammate in this situation, the two of you standing by while one of the most powerful families in Kildare poses together in their finest outfits.

Rafe looks hot in his grey suit, especially with the pocket square he’d agonized over for weeks before you gifted him one that was hand sewn from the extra material where your dress had been hemmed. Monogrammed, of course.

You’d decided to go with his initials, since it was going to him after all. But your stomach gets fluttery if you think about the expression on his face when he’d received it, telling you that you should’ve put yours on it instead. “That way everyone will know I’m yours.”

Turning back to John B, you can’t imagine how he must have felt the first time he was invited into all of this. It intimidated even you, and you’re pretty sure John B was friends with the boy who delivered your family’s groceries every week.

“Any tips?”

“You’re way better off than I was, first of all,” he laughs. “But he’s really only scary when it’s one-on-one. He cares too much about this appearance of a perfect family to make digs in front of an audience.”

You nod. “That’s actually really good advice, John B.”

“Don’t sound so surprised, kook.” He clinks his glass against yours, promptly throwing the entire drink back as you watch and laugh. “That’s another tip. Drink whenever you can.”

“I’m familiar with that one.”

It's intimidating entering the event, a little after everyone else has arrived. Rafe told you that was by design—the Camerons could never be earlier than fashionably late. You always assumed you and Rafe were raised with similar pedigrees, but you're barely through the doors of the event before you realize that's not entirely true. Up until the last millisecond, Rose is fussing with Sarah and Wheezie's gowns, the older daughter making eye contact with you and rolling her eyes at her step-mother's antics. And Ward brushes Rafe's shoulders off more times than you can count, straightening his bow tie for him repeatedly. Rafe just places his hand on your back, leaning down to whisper into your ear. “You ready?”

You smile up at him, but your nerves are firmly settled in at this point. What you reply isn’t completely true. “Of course.”

—

You take John B’s advice, of course, and choose Kelce as your designated drinking buddy for the night. He was hard to keep up with, but you threw your inhibitions to the wind after you got meeting the Camerons out of the way. Plus, Rafe had more business to attend to than he’d let on, and you were getting pretty bored. Not too long ago he would’ve been right beside the rest of you, causing trouble and borderline embarrassing all of your parents. It was weird to see him walking around, shaking hands and rubbing elbows. He’d invited you into a few conversations, you trying your hardest not to simply watch him in awe.

You’re engaged in some strange dance battle with Kelce when he stacks his drink into yours, both empties at this point. “Your turn to get a round.”

“Boo,” you sigh, throwing your head back. “What d’you want?”

“Surprise me.”

“Aye aye.”

You’re turning on a shaky high heel, and you have to give yourself a little mental pep talk to straighten up. Of course you can, though.

“What can I get you, miss?” the barkeep asks.

“Vodka press, Tito’s, and a Jack and coke. Double Jack. Actually—single. Thanks,” you murmur, trying to fish a ten out of your clutch.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got the tip for this one,” a voice says next to you. Ward Cameron is sidling up next to you, sliding a fifty across the counter. Your eyes widen at the tip, trying not to be embarrassed as the bartender sets the drinks down in front of you.

“Oh, thank you, Mr. Cameron.”

“Ah, call me Ward.” He flicks his eyes back to the bartender, who quickly pockets the tip and makes himself scarce to give the two of you some privacy. You can’t help but think of John B’s warning: ‘he’s really only scary when it’s one-on-one.’ There’s no point in even trying seek out Rafe, you knowing full well you’re expected to stay rooted to the spot until Ward dismisses you. “Having a good time?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “It’s always fun to come back out here for this.”

“So, California to Georgia,” he whistles. “That’s probably a five hour flight, at least.”

“Yeah, um,” you take a minute to make sure your flower crown is perfectly in place. “It’s actually two.”

“Excuse me?”

“Two flights. From his school to mine. Rafe checked, he said there’s nothing direct,” you clarify.

Ward let’s out an indifferent chuckle. “Of course he did.”

Your eyebrow furrows because you don’t know what to say, turning to look at where your drinks are starting to melt. Kelce would be wondering where you are by now if he wasn’t three sheets to the wind. And where the hell was Rafe?

“Y/n, as far as I can tell, you are a nice girl. I just need to make sure we’re on the same page about one thing.”

Your heartbeat that hadn’t really settled since Ward approached you is picking up again, and you really wish Rafe had been the least bit more concerned about where you were at this moment.

“Um, I-I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

“I'm don’t know how serious you two are, Y/n, but I know my son. He's clearly very invested in pursuing you.”

Your resolve crumbles a little at that, your heart warming, thinking about Ward noticing something like that.

“But Rafe needs to be committed to finishing this degree so he can come home and start learning the ropes next year. And in four years, Sarah will do the same. Then Louisa after her.”

“Wow, that’s so lucky for you—that they all want to go into the family business,” you praise, not really knowing what else to say. It must be the wrong thing, because Ward just quirks an eyebrow.

“In this family, our business will always come first. Before anything and anyone else. Do you see what I’m getting at?”

You swallow, catching on to where this is going for the first time. You still go for playing dumb.

“Ward, I really don't think I understand.”

“But you do, don't you? You know Rafe. He’s a bit emotional, he’s a ‘feeler,’” Ward says sarcastically, putting it in air quotes. All of the niceties you experienced earlier when you first greeted Rafe’s family were long gone. You can only gather that it was all an act for Rafe’s benefit. But you know the only option is to sit there and take it. “He thinks with his heart, never enough with his head. Sarah, for example—when it’s time for her to cut that pogue lose, which it will be soon enough, I know she will. Whether it’s my decision or her’s. I can count on that, because she’s just like me in that respect; she knows we have to make sacrifices. But Rafe—I don’t think I can make that same assumption about him.”

“Ward, with all due respect, Rafe is really focused on the business.”

“You're correct, and I’ve worked hard to get him there. Which is why I can't have him spending his senior year of college, when he should be buckled down, traveling back and forth from California and getting distracted from his future by some girl.”

“Mr. Cameron, I would never—”

“You know that it’s true. I can tell you’re bright. You come from a great family.” It’s a compliment and an insult all at once. He likes you because of your father’s business and your mother’s social status, not because of what you do for Rafe, or what you have to show for yourself. He continues like it was nothing but the highest praise. “But right now, you are across the country from him, and I can bet he’s determined to make that work, no matter what it takes. Which I obviously can’t have,” Ward sighs. “It’s just not the right time. You can understand that, can't you?”

You nod numbly and pick up your drinks, hoping he’ll get the signal to wrap this up soon. You’re at the point where you can’t listen to this anymore, liquid courage re-flooding your veins.

“I’m not asking you to stay away from him, because you’re both adults,” Ward says, stopping you with a hand on your shoulder. “But I’m asking you to think long and hard about what’s best for the both of you. Rafe already knows what’s expected of him. He’s always known.”

You look back towards the crowd under the gazebo, able to make out John B of all people. He sees you talking to Ward, shooting you the most subtle thumbs up he can muster. He has no idea. You don’t take the chance to nod at him, turning back to the bar.

“Say the two of you let it go for the school year,” Ward bulldozes, taking a step closer to you. “And you end up back here too, great. But even then Rafe’s going to be working all the time, the longest hours he ever will in his life. For the next few years, Y/n. You’re so young—are you really going to tie yourself down to a commitment like that? What about your future?”

In a tone you hope comes across as confident, you say, “I really appreciate your concern, Ward.”

Ward's perfectly white teeth are pulling into an even more perfect grin, and the sight makes you sick.

“Great. I'm glad we had this talk.” He pats you on the back, leaving first before you get the chance to.

You just shuffle through the crowd numbly, not even reacting when someone steps on your toe, taking it all in stride as you seek the comfort of your friends once again.

You were foolish to think Ward would warm up to you immediately, or at all. You had been way too confident in yourself, especially after witnessing the wear working for his father had on Rafe. ‘He’s not an easy man to please.’ How could you be so naive, thinking you could coast by on your charm?

You’re a few feet away when you notice that Topper had joined up with Kelce again, as had your boyfriend. He’s joking with them, amused at the way Topper is clearly almost done tolerating Kelce’s drunken antics, but you stand and watch for a bit as he scans the crowd, gaze flickering toward the bar you’d just been at. You realize he’s looking for you when he finally spots you, his face relaxing as the two of you make eye contact.

“There you are.” He pulls you in close, kissing your forehead. You want to cry. “Where’d you run off to? One of those for me?”

He’s gesturing to the drinks you’re holding, reaching for the darker of the two. But Kelce is swooping in, snatching it out of your hold quickly. “Nope,” he pops the ‘p.’ “This one’s all mine. Sorry Cameron. Thanks Y/n/n.”

Rafe just rolls his eyes at the two of you, eyes lingering on your face when he notices your fallen expression. He sets your other drink down on the high top table you’re all standing next to, pulling you in by your hips. “You okay?”

If you had a choice right now, about how to proceed with telling or not telling Rafe about what had just happened, your instincts compel you to bypass the decision process altogether; you paint a careful smile on your face, shaking your head slightly. “Yeah, all good. Just zoned out for a sec.”

He isn’t convinced. “Tired?”

“Maybe a little. Kinda drunk. Are we leaving soon?” you ask, melting into him. It’s a lot easier to handle his tone of voice when you don’t have to look him directly in the eye.

“I vote yes,” Topper says, gesturing towards Kelce, who is somehow sucking down his new drink at an alarming pace while continuing to dance to the oldies tunes they play at these things. “Like, right now. Rafe, you’re hanging back right?”

You look back up at your boyfriend in confusion. “You’re not coming with us?”

He bite his lip in contemplation, looking around the party. The twinkly lights reflect off of his pupils, making him look starry-eyed as he surveys the crowd. A sea of opportunities to prove himself to his father. Rafe looks resolved when he turns back to you.

“Well... I was gonna stay, wrap up some stuff,” he explains. His eyes flicker across your face, still not pleased with your expression. “But that’s okay, I’m good to go now.”

“No, Rafe,” you say immediately. You take a deep breath, rolling back your shoulders and painting on a smile that comes easily with years of experience at parties like this. “Stay, I’ll go ahead. How long will you be?”

“An hour, tops. Will you take her?” Rafe looks hesitant, still taking your green light anyway, already slowly extracting himself from your hold, Topper rolling his eyes but nodding and beginning to corral Kelce toward the exit.

“I can’t believe you’re making me babysit two of them.”

“Don’t let her drink too much.”

“Hey,” you protest, pushing him in his chest half heartedly. The push barely does anything, only proving your impaired motor skills further. Or that you're dating a tree. “What are you, a cop?”

“I’m your boyfriend, actually.”

“Really? When did that happen?” you decide to play along, picking up your drink again.

“‘Bout a month ago, Y/l/n,” he says softly. He can see right through you, can tell you're putting on a show for all of your friends but you're still not okay. You have to break eye contact.

“Hmm, for some reason I thought you were just this guy from middle school.”

“At least this time nobody spilled on your dress,” he teases half-heartedly, and the memory only hurts you more. “Not sure I’d wanna sacrifice this one.”

“Can you—you guys are the worst. Focus. We need to go now, before Kelce gets his entire family blacklisted from the club. You coming or not, Y/n/n?” Topper begs.

You’re nodding, leaning up to give Rafe one last kiss before you leave. He holds you close to him with a firm hand on your back, voice dropping to a whisper right next to your ear. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

The lump in your throat is growing, but you push through, lowering yourself back down to your feet as soon as you can. “Yeah, don’t worry about it. Focus on the rest of your night.”

Rafe still looks unsure, his hand resting on the nape of your neck as he kisses your forehead. “Y/n—”

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” you finally admit. Rafe nods curtly, can tell you’re not going to let him leave with you right now. But he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know that if you pull him away from his responsibilities right after that talk you had with Ward, it’s going to spell disaster for the two of you.

“Just some business stuff, alright?” he assures you. “I’ll see you soon. Forty-five minutes.”

“Promise?” you murmur, fiddling with his pocket square. He smiles down at you, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“Promise. You look so pretty. Half an hour. Now go.”

Topper’s guiding you towards the parking lot with a polite hand on your back, but you have to watch Rafe as you leave. You watch him approach his dad, who gives him a smile and a pat on the back. Rafe preens under his gaze.

But Ward must have been watching you two from afar because his gaze is flickering back to you, and he fixes you with a hard stare. He raises his eyebrows, bringing his drink to his lips. Taking a leisurely sip, hint of a smirk on his face. You can practically hear his thoughts: ‘Rafe chose to stay here with me, with the business, and sent you off with his friends.’ It’s everything in you to not let the tears that have been building on your waterline spill over. But your friend isn’t easily fooled.

“Y’alright, Y/n?” Topper says from beside you, trusting Kelce enough to walk on his own as you all near the parking lot. He moves to follow your gaze but you stop him, quickening your pace towards his gray Jeep. “Did something happen?”

“Ward Cameron happened.”

———

tags: @moniamaybank @downbytheouterbanks @littlementalpolaroids

[daintyduck99]

"You're family." + Ray and Reggie (You know I gotta!)

Julie answers the door with a radiant grin that makes Reggie’s cheeks burn.

“Reggie!” 

She throws her arms around him and reels him into the house, kicking the door shut behind them. She holds him tight, and he has no qualms about hugging her back just as fiercely. She’d be offended if he didn’t, and she fits in his arms perfectly. He rests his chin on her head. 

The Molinas give the best hugs, warm and undeniably welcoming, infused with a sort of stubborn affection that instantly relaxes Reggie. Luke and Alex like to rib him for being so eager to ditch the studio to see them, but sometimes he just needs the pick-me-up. 

Julie’s still beaming as they unravel from the hug, and his stomach flutters as she takes his hand, guiding him deeper into the house. 

Okay, so maybe he also has a tiny crush on their lead singer. It’s fine, he’s handling it. 

“What brings you here on a Sunday? Did Luke drag you out here to workshop the intro of that new song some more?” 

“Oh,” he stammers, highly aware that his cheeks are still on fire and that it’s worsening by the second under her bemused gaze, helpless to her gap-toothed grin. “No, I’m not he’s—me’s not here—I mean, it’s just me but—” 

She giggles, and he chews his lip to keep any more nonsense from falling out of his mouth. 

Great job, Reginald. You’re really handling it, Alex snarks in the back of Reggie’s head.

Julie squeezes his hand. “You’re just in time for brunch! We’re making pancakes.” 

“Oh, I just wanted to say hi since I was—I couldn’t impose—” 

He’s interrupted by Carlos, who tackles him around the middle as soon as they set foot in the kitchen. Julie’s hand slips out of Reggie’s, but not before Ray spots them, and he ducks his head to hide his flush at least a little as he goes to return Carlos’ hug.

“You have to help me make a spaceship out of pancakes!” Carlos insists excitedly, slightly muffled by Reggie’s shirt since he’s got his face mashed into his stomach. Reggie smiles. 

“Sure thing, little dude. So long as it’s cool with Ray.” 

Ray points his spatula at them. “How many times do I have to tell you? You’re always welcome here, Reggie. That goes for all of you boys. After all that you’ve done for Julie? You’re family.” 

“I didn’t—” Reggie starts automatically, only to swallow as Julie and Ray both frown at him and Carlos clings to him tighter, shaking his head. 

“You help me with my math homework and play games with me! You’re a really cool brother!” 

Julie plops a bowl of blueberries by Ray’s elbow and flies across the kitchen, ignoring Carlos’ disgruntled sound when he gets sandwiched in her bear hug. She rests her head on Reggie’s chest and whispers to his heart.

“You helped me find my voice again, Reggie. Not just my music. Myself. You really are the coolest. I’ll never be able to thank you enough. We love you.” 

She didn’t call him a brother, some delusional part of him notes, but he shoves that away.

“I love you guys too, of course I do, but that was Luke—” 

She thumps her forehead against his chest. “No, it was all of you! And you’re the one who chooses to spend time with my family. They’ve already claimed you. The best thing you can do is give in before Tia tries to make us get married, or something.” 

“Okay, this is getting way too mushy now,” Carlos complains, wriggling out of the embrace.

Ray clears his throat. “Julie, why don’t you help Carlos find the whisk? It’s buried in the pantry.”

Reggie shoots her a panicked look, but she just rolls her eyes, though her ears are tipped red. 

“Sure thing, dad.” Julie ushers Carlos into the walk-in pantry. She throws one last look over her shoulder and mouths, “It’ll be fine.” 

His nerves are still telling him that it’s anything but fine. He appreciates the effort, though. 

Reggie sidles over to Ray, heart bobbing in his throat, and accepts the spatula from him. He keeps his eyes glued to the pancake that’s already sizzling cheerfully in the skillet, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil. Ray clasps his shoulder. 

“Reggie, you aren’t in trouble. You can stop staring at that pancake like this is its funeral.” 

A nervous laugh crawls out of his throat. “Right, right. You’re sure it’s not mine?” 

Ray coughs. Reggie’s 99% sure that it’s to cover a laugh. He releases Reggie’s shoulder. 

“Positive. I meant what I said, mijo. I’d adopt you if you weren’t in love with my daughter.” 

Reggie drops the spatula. This poor pancake is going to be as fried as his brain. 

“What?” he squeaks, scrambling to retrieve the spatula from the floor and hide his flaming face. “No, I mean, Julie’s wonderful and beautiful and a guy could get lost in her eyes forever but—” 

“Reggie.” Ray calmly flips the pancake with another spatula that he produced from who knows where. His mouth ticks up. “Breathe. I don’t need to give you a shovel talk. It’s clear that you give yourself enough of those. It’s okay.” 

He huffs. It technically counts as breathing. The pancake bubbles back at him. 

“It’s not! Isn’t it weird? I mean, I’ve sort of already wormed my way into her family and I don’t want her to feel like she owes me her love or anything—” 

“She thinks more highly of you than you realize. Than you do. You talk about yourself like you’re a vampire, mijo, and you aren’t. We love you. We like having you around. You’re the only kid in this house who actually listens to me when I ramble about photography. You carry things to the car for Victoria and never miss Carlos’ baseball games and I know you’re the reason that both of my kids are passing math. How is up to you and Julie, but you’re a part of this family.”

Reggie swallows. His eyes are burning, now, and he lets Ray fold him into a hug. He kisses the crown of Reggie’s head, something he’s seen him do to Julie and Carlos a million times, and Reggie’s powerless to prevent the tears from falling as Ray continues in a soft voice. 

“You’re so busy looking at Julie like she hung the moon that you never see the way she looks at you. Believe me, I was that boy once. You’d better tell her how you feel before she gets jealous and dumps a milkshake on the next girl who makes the mistake of flirting with you.” 

The anecdote startles a laugh out of him. Reggie sniffs. “Did Rose really do that?” 

“Oh, absolutely. Ask Victoria if you don’t believe me.” 

They do scorch that first pancake a little bit, but Reggie can’t bring himself to care, not when he feels so at home in all of these hugs. Julie stumbles out of the pantry with stars in her eyes, clutching the whisk and then Reggie to her chest. Carlos squints at them, but all Reggie can do is laugh and swing her around.

The Molinas really do give the very best hugs. 

They still need to have that talk, but the way Julie holds his hand under the table is pretty great, too. 

[buckys-black-dress]

✄ chapter three: losin' grip on my doin'

a/n: okay, let's goooo! chapter 3 :) things are buildin up... get ready ;) chapter 4 will be posed tonight or tomorrow :)

wc: 4.1k

[fratboy!bucky barnes x fem!reader]

series masterlist

-

To say the least, waking up the next morning in the most coveted after playboy's bed was a shock. You wake up nestled into Bucky Barnes' side, and you wonder if this is what it felt like.

If this is what every conquest that's been brought to his room feels like when they wake up.

You're very much aware of a metal arm slung over your waist, and you feel panic rise up in your throat. Once you recognize you're fully clothed, you release a breath and feel the tension disintegrating from your body.

You can feel Bucky Barnes' heavy breaths under your head from where you're situated on his chest, and you take a moment and pause.

You would never think you'd find yourself in this situation; sidled up in bed with your university's most notorious fratboy. Someone girls and guys coveted after, and who would do anything to get in bed with him.

Yet, here you are. You don't want to admit to yourself that you quite like it here. You feel comfortable, safe. Fitted perfectly right under his arm, listening to his even breaths as you replay the night before's events in your mind like a film reel.

You meet him.

You play pong with him.

You talk to him.

You go up to his room with him.

And now you're awake in his bed. Fully clothed.

How?

Before you could ask too many questions and drown into a spiral, you hear Bucky draw in a sharp breath, signaling his awakening. You look up at him, wondering how he's going to react to you being here. Not only you being here, but also how you two woke up.

"Mornin', doll." He smiles down at you, and his morning voice sends a shiver down your spine at the raspiness.

"H-Hi." You simply say. You can't quite draw any coherent thoughts at the moment, as Bucky's arm tightens around you and draws you closer to his body.

"Sleep well?" He asks, still looking down at you fond look that makes your heart swell in your chest.

"Hm," you hum, "better than I expected, honestly." You laugh.

"Good, spent way too much on this mattress for it to not please my guests." Bucky smirks, and you get lost in his blue eyes for a moment.

But then, you think about his word choice. Guests. Plural. And although you know nothing happened between you two, you still feel a wave of shame wash over you at the notion.

Bucky's had guests in this bed before. You aren't the first girl to sleep in this bed, and you probably weren't the last.

You feel Bucky shift underneath you, seeing his expression turn to worry at the way you're clearly lost in thought.

"Everythin' alright?" He asks, and you nod quickly.

"Yeah, everything's fine. Just peachy." You give a quick smile, trying to not show how your stomach was churning at the thought of all the girls who've been here before you.

"Wanna go grab some breakfast?" Bucky asks, and you pause.

He wants to stay with me? He's not kicking me out, asking me to leave?

“Sure, uh, where did you wanna go?” You ask gently, worrying that you might scare him off, that he’s delusional right now and he doesn’t really want to spend time with you. You’re beyond confused right now.

“We can head to the diner if you’re good with that? My treat.” He says as he stands up, pulling on a shirt to avoid the chill of the room.

It’s a red henley, and the way you see his muscles straining in the sleeves of the shirt has a blush crawling up your neck.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” You croak, getting out of the bed.

-

By the time you get up and get dressed, sweatpants courtesy of Bucky, and head to the diner, it’s already noon. It’s a Saturday morning, so most people are still in bed while recovering from their hangovers.

“So, how come I haven’t seen you at one of our parties before last night?” Bucky asks while you seat yourselves at a booth in the back of the diner.

“I uhm, I don’t really go out too much. Natasha basically begged me to come out, and I only did it to get her off my case and stop asking me.” You reply while taking a sip of the scalding coffee in front of you that a nice waitress poured for the two of you.

“Really? Well, I’d say you should come more often,” he gives you this smile, and your brain is short-circuiting at how handsome he looks. “You were a great pong partner.”

The emphasis on the word and his tone indicate that he was very much so being sarcastic, and you give a bashful chuckle at his words.

“Oh yeah, definitely. I have nothing on Natasha and Sam.” You laugh, and the same waitress comes by to take your orders.

Once she flutters back behind the counter to put the orders in, you’re reading a text on your phone that you felt vibrate while it was in the pocket of Bucky’s sweater you were sporting.

Natasha:

(12:08 PM) Hey, did you end up getting back safe last night? Sorry I kind of bailed, I just ended up crashing when I got to Sam’s room.

She punctuates her sentence with a face palm emoji in embarrassment, and you smile at the text.

Y/N:

(12:10 PM) Hi, I just crashed in Bucky’s room last night. No funny business tho, so don’t get any ideas in your head.

As you send off the message, you turn off your phone and place is face-down on the table, deciding you’ll deal with Nat’s freak out about you spending the night with Bucky later.

“Everythin’ okay?” Bucky’s voice startles you out of your thoughts, and you snap your eyes up to his.

“Yeah, Nat was just making sure I didn’t end up dead in a ditch last night.” You laugh, shaking your head at how dramatic your roommate could be at times.

“Hey, it’s good to know she cares about you.” He responds, and you nod at his words.

“I mean, yeah. No matter how much she might bug me about going out or getting a boyfriend, she’s still like my sister. I don’t know what I’d do without her.” A sigh leaves your mouth, thinking about Nat. She’s been there for you through everything in your life, and it was true. She was your biggest supporter, and you’re glad you have someone who cares so much for you.

“She seems like a great friend. Sam and Steve are the same for me. I mean, although I grew up with Steve, Sam was like the third brother we never even knew we needed.” He stares off into the distance with a soft look in his eyes, and you smile fondly at his words.

In that moment, you feel like you’re seeing a side of Bucky that not many people get to see. This is Bucky, a guy from Brooklyn who’s just trying to get by in college. Not a man-whore, or a guy who just wants to ge his dick wet like everyone says.

Before you could come up with a response to what he’s said, the same lady comes and places your hot food in front of the both of you, leaving with a ‘enjoy!’ before she whirls away again.

You eat while making small talk, just about life, school, and hobbies. Before you know it, Bucky asks for the check, and even though you know he said he’d pick it up earlier, you still fight him on paying for half the bill.

In the end, Bucky becomes so frustrated with your antics that he simply gets up and hands the waitress his card, and you simply watch with a dropped jaw at his actions.

“You didn’t have to do that!” You exclaim, albeit quietly, but enough to show your frustration.

“Doll, I’m treating you to brunch. Just let me.” Is all Bucky says, effectively shutting you up.

-

On your walk back to campus, Bucky asks what you’re doing for the rest of the day, asking if you wanted to come back to his room.

“I should head back, Natasha’s probably waiting for me with a million questions.” You bashfully look up to your window from the bottom of your dorm building.

“Oh, okay doll.” Bucky wraps his arms around you, pulling you into an unexpected hug. You feel your body tense at the action, but once you realize what’s happening, you relax again, letting yourself melt into his body.

“See ya later?” He asks with a raised brow.

“Uh, yeah. I don’t know what I’ll be doing later, but we can talk later.” You smile up at him, slowly moving out of his grip and towards the door.

Before you could fully open the door, you hear Bucky’s voice call out to you one more time.

“Y/N, wait!” He yells, jogging over to you at the door. “Can I uh, get your number? So I can text you later?” He asks, his metal hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“O-Oh, sure! Yeah!” You reply a bit louder than you had intended, just out of pure shock at his question.

You open a new message on your phone, allowing Bucky to type in his number and save his contact. Once he hands the device back to you, you see his name saved as Bucky Barnes <3.

Before you can say anything about the heart he added himself, he pecks your cheek and runs off, with a distant ‘I’ll see ya later, doll!’

You essentially float up to your room, not feeling like you were on the planet right now. You felt like you were up in the clouds, unaware of your own actions. You unlock the door to your room, and Natasha is perched upon her bed, looking down at two outfits she has held up against her form.

“Hey! You didn’t answer my messages, you little bitch! Tell me everything!” She turns around at the sound of you entering, already berating you.

But it all sounds muffled in your ears, not fully comprehending what she was saying to you.

“Hey, you okay? Earth to Y/N?” The redhead says again, waving a hand in front of your face at your spacey expression.

“I-I, yeah, I’m fine. Just… shocked.” You breathe out.

“So? Tell me what happened!”

At first, you could barely get the words out of your mouth, trying to explain everything that occurred in the past 24 hours. You get through the story, a little bit challenged at trying to organize your thoughts, but eventually you get Natasha up to speed.

“So… you didn’t have sex with him?” Your roommate says, and you shake your head no.

“Nat, you know how I feel about having sex. I don’t want to rush into it, and I don’t want my first time to be with some… random guy from a frat. I want it to be with someone I trust, someone I’m comfortable with.” You tell her like a broken record, because over the course of the time that you’ve been friends with Natasha, you’ve had this conversation with her several times. Sometimes, you wondered why she was so hellbent on you losing your virginity.

As much as you loved her and understood her intentions with the question, you were getting tired of having to defend yourself every time.

“I- I know! I just… I want you to be happy, with whoever you want. I never want you to think I’m rushing you though, Y/N. I love you.” Natasha explains, putting her hand on your arm in consolation.

“I know, Nat. But trust me, you’ll be the first to know when I do… do it. Don’t worry.” You laugh at how ridiculous you sounded.

She’s looking back down at her bed now, looking between the outfits she was holding earlier.

“Okay… now, help me pick an outfit! Sam wants to go on a date tonight!” She says, showing you the different options.

As you two banter and talk about last night, you interrupt Natasha’s tirade about Sam and ‘what a gentleman he is!’

“Bucky gave me his number earlier.” Saying it out loud makes it sound all the more ridiculous. You feel like a high-schooler at your words, and the way Natasha stops all movement makes you feel all the more insane.

“His number?” She asks, like she couldn’t figure out what to really say.

“Yeah. He even saved a heart next to his name in my phone. What does that even mean?” You wonder out loud, and now you’re sure you’ve gone crazy.

“I… I’m not sure. I think he likes you.” She says nonchalantly, and you scoff.

“Yeah, because Bucky Barnes is very interested in a girl he met last night who didn’t want to sleep with him. He must be going crazy over a girl like me.” You finish with an incredulous laugh, like it never even crossed your mind that he could like you.

“Well… he acted very different from you’ve been telling me. He usually just fucks a girl and she leaves the next morning, nothing more, nothing less. The fact that he didn’t fuck you and took you out to brunch says a lot about this whole situation.” She explains, and you’re still having a hard time grasping this information.

Just as you’re about to find a rationale as to why her explanation isn’t plausible, you feel your phone buzz.

With furrowed brows, you open your texts.

Bucky Barnes <3:

(2:01 PM) Hey doll, do you wanna come by to another party we’re having tonight? Could use my trusty pong champ ;)

Your mouth dries at the message, words lodged in your throat.

“Look what he just texted me.” You flip your screen to Nat and she reads with an unreadable expression, which quickly turns into her brows shooting up.

“A winky face! Y/N/N, he fucking likes you! He wants to see you again!” She exclaims, and you don’t even know what to say.

“How do I respond?” You feel so unexperienced, asking your roommate for advice on how to text a guy.

“Here, gimme,” she snatches the phone out of your grasp, quickly typing something and handing the phone back to you.

You read what she sent with wide eyes.

Y/N Y/L/N:

(2:11 PM) I’ll be there ;) Should I bring clothes to change into for tonight?

“Nat! Why would you say that? You’re making it sound like I wanna have sex with him tonight!” You rise up from your spot on her bed in a panic, pacing the area of your small room.

“Y/N, relax! He-” Before she could finish, your phone buzzed again.

Bucky Barnes <3

(2:13 PM) Hilarious, doll. You don’t have to, but if you wanna crash here again tonight, you can definitely bring your own stuff if that makes you more comfy :)

“Oh my God. He’s so sweet!” Nat giggles, covering her mouth with her hand. “You have to go now!”

“Nat… doesn’t this look a little… suspicious? From what I’ve heard, this isn’t how he usually acts.” You say wearily, the worry clear in your tone.

“Y/N, look at me.” Natasha's hands come to the sides of your head, urging your gaze to meet hers. “You’re a great girl. You deserve someone who treats you well and gets excited to see you, like Bucky is right now. Don’t push him away. You deserve something good.”

At her words, your eyes soften and you feel the distant sting of tears behind your eyes. You give her a nod, not knowing how to express your gratitude to her in words at the moment. She pulls you into a hug and you hold her tight against you, like she might disappear if you let go.

“Now, we need to get you ready for tonight. You’re gonna make Bucky wish he fucked you.” Natasha smirks an evil one.

“Nat!”

-

The party was in full swing upon your arrival. You were all alone when you walked through the doors of the fraternity house, as Natasha had gone on her dinner date with Sam. She’d promised she’d come by after dinner, and you were practically shaking while searching for Bucky in the packed house.

There were people everywhere, and the longer it took for you to find Bucky, the more anxious you were becoming about being here.

“Y/N!” You hear distantly, and your head whips around in search of the owner of the voice.

You feel a hand slide around your waist, and you smell Bucky before you see him. If it weren’t for the distinct smell of his cologne and mint, you would’ve slapped the hand away long ago.

“Hey! Been wonderin’ when you’d show up.” Bucky has a smile on his face, showing off his pearly whites.

“Sorry, I got held up at home with Natasha.” You tell him, looking around at the crowd. You could feel your breathing shorten at the sheer amount of people around you, and your stomach churns in anxiety.

As if Bucky senses your discomfort, he rubs the hand on your waist along the expanse of your back.

“You okay?” He asks, visibly concerned at your demeanor.

You nod wordlessly, trying to make it seem like you weren’t extremely stressed right now. You would’ve loved to let loose tonight, but yesterday was already pushing it in terms of going out.

“Do you wanna head upstairs?” Bucky asks in clear concern at your demeanor right now. He feels a wave of guilt wash over him. If he knew just how much you were going to become uncomfortable by just being here tonight, he wouldn’t have asked you to come. He would’ve simply asked you on a date, or done a night in with you.

You nod again, not allowing the words to leave your throat. You feel as though your mouth is full of cotton, not even being able to form any coherent thoughts at the moment.

Bucky’s cool metal arm guides you by your lower back to the stairs, and you’re once again reminded of the previous night. His cool metal hand is the only thing grounding you at the moment, and you think you would’ve ended up on the dirty bathroom floor downstairs in a puddle of tears if Bucky had taken any longer to find you.

You pass through his doorway, and Bucky’s arm is holding you against him as the door shuts behind you two.

He wordlessly caresses you, running a soothing hand up and down your back, which is partially open because of your outfit. You’re wearing a dress from Natasha’s closet, which she claimed made you look ‘hotter than the motherfucking sun, Y/N’, and you were basically forced into.

“For what it’s worth, honey, you look stunning tonight.” You feel Bucky’s chest rumble from his speaking from where you’re placed against him, and you give a light laugh.

“Thanks,” you return quietly, unable to really come up with anything witty to say. “I’m sorry I’m ruining tonight for you.” Your voice comes after a few moments of silence, but suddenly you’re pulled away from his body.

“Hey,” his hands are on your shoulders, “you are not ruining anything, doll. Parties ’ll come and go, but I don’t want to do it if it isn’t with you.” He tells you in earnest, and you feel an indistinguishable ache in your chest at his words.

Where did this man come from? It seems as though the perfect guy, one who respects you, one who doesn’t force you into anything, one who seems to care too much about you has just... fallen into your lap.

It almost seems too good to be true.

“Bucky…” You trail off, unable to find any words of gratitude at the moment.

“Yeah, doll?”

“Can we just… lay down? Maybe watch a movie?” You ask.

“Of course we can, honey. Anythin’ you want.” He smiles brightly again as your mood seems to lighten a bit. “Do you need a change of clothes?”

“Yes, please. If you don’t mind.” You can’t really bring yourself to look at him. You feel embarrassed that you’ve pulled him away from his own party. Although he constantly reassures you that he doesn’t mind, you’re still bashful.

“Here, honey,” he hands you the same garments from last night, “you look good in these.” He laughs, and you feel your cheeks turn bright red.

“I- I’ll be right back.” You give a tight smile and retreat to the bathroom.

While Bucky waits outside, he begins to get lost in his thoughts. He liked you. A lot. How did he get himself into this mess? He’s not stupid. He knows what he did to get here. And now it was looking really, really, stupid.

Unfortunately, there was no getting it out of it now, though. He could try and reason with the person he’d made a promise to, but he was stubborn. There was little to no chance he would be able to get out of this one.

But he thinks of it on the flip side. He’s been seen bringing you up to his room two nights in a row, and he knows how it makes both of you look.

For him, he looks like he’s keeping up with reputation.

Take a girl home.

Fuck her.

Leave it at that.

No one quite knew you on campus except for your friends, so they weren’t worried about you or who you were.

All that mattered was that Bucky Barnes was keeping up with his usual antics that were expected of him. There was nothing out of the ordinary for him, other than the fact that he wasn’t actually fucking you.

Bucky snaps out of his train of thought when he hears the bathroom door click open, his eyes meeting yours once again.

But his eyes quickly divert to your body, once again covered by his baggy clothing. You were watching his stare move down your body and felt a wave of insecurity wash over you.

You probably weren’t half as gorgeous as the girls he’s brought back here before. You knew what kind of girls guys like him preferred. Long, cascading hair, big, bright eyes, thin waists, legs that went on for what seemed like miles.

You just weren’t that.

It made you come back to the thoughts that had plagued your mind previously.

Where did Bucky’s interest in you come from?

Why was he suddenly feel the need to coddle you, take care of you, to reassure you?

Your concern was quickly washed away when Bucky settled in his bed, patting his spot next to him under the covers.

“You comin’?” He asks in a raspy, quiet voice that makes your knees wobble.

You don’t say anything while you situate yourself beside him.

“Bucky, can I ask you something?” You begin meekly, not making eye contact with him.

“Anythin’, doll. Somethin’ wrong?” He looks down at you in a worried gaze, and you shake your head.

“I just… what made you want to approach me? I- I know I’m not like those other girls you’ve been with before, and I can’t help but think that you… you want something else from me?” You explain with little ease. You feel bile rising in your throat as you speak because you can’t bear to think that Bucky really ulterior motives for all this time you’ve spent together.

You’ve only just met him, yet you feel like you’ve known him forever. You’re comfortable with him, more than you usually would be with a stranger, and it freaks you out.

“Y/N… can you look at me?” Bucky tilts his head down to try and meet your eyes, which is something you can barely do at the moment. “I want you to know, before this goes anywhere else; you are an amazing girl. I don’t know why it took me so long to talk to you, but I think you’re one the most genuine, kind, beautiful girls I’ve ever met. I… I know I have a reputation that precedes me, but you… you’re different.” He speaks so genuinely to you that you feel a slight sting behind your eyes.

“I… I never want you to doubt yourself ever again, doll. You’re perfect, just as you are. I’m sorry it looked like I was after anything else before.” Bucky finishes, and you can’t seem to find any words at the moment.

You just nod fervently, and then you feel yourself being pulled into Bucky’s large arms.

“Please, don’t let anyone make you doubt yourself again. You’re worth it.”

That night, you fall into the most comfortable and deep sleep of your life, wrapped safely in Bucky’s arms.

[newtonsheffield]

Guys, we need to talk about something.

It's very important.

It's Edwina + Mary + Anthony +Their Love of Great British Bakeoff

Kate liked cooking, she really did, some of her best memories were of her sitting in the kitchen with her Dad while he rattled off lists of ingredients to Mary in Tamil, both of them moving around the kitchen in sync, Kate always a step behind watching the beautiful chaos a little awed. And perhaps it wasn't flattering, but she loved when Anthony cooked. Not just because it made her feel loved and cared for that he'd go to the effort of all of this, just for her, but because he looked so ridiculously hot while doing it. He always had his sleeves rolled up, a neat apron on and his brow furrowed while he laboured away in the kitchen, the temperature hiking not only because of the stove. Yes, Anthony Bridgerton was ridiculously hot when he cooked. What was very not hot, was how much he loved The Great British Bakeoff.

It had started at brunch one Sunday, Mary and Edwina unpacking the latest episode while Mary flipped pancakes same as they always did when a season was airing, Kate mostly tuning it out. For all her love of cooking, competition baking shows weren't really her thing. She'd been sitting at the table, her legs thrown over Anthony's whispering something, perhaps a little too filthy, in his ear given her Mother and Sister were only a few feet from them, when he suddenly said Are you guys talking about Bakeoff?! Edwina had practically spun off her chair at Anthony's excited tone, Mary's spatula frozen halfway to the pan. Yes? She said lightly. Anthony leapt into the conversation surprising Kate What do you guys think of this new round of bakers? I think Lottie's obviously hilarious and I'm sure Laura's tastes good but her presentation is sloppy at best. Mary was still staring open mouthed, Edwina practically agog. Kate recovered first, What the fuck Anthony? Anthony turned towards her a little surprised Do you not like Bakeoff? He was clearly equally affronted. Kate opened her mouth to respond, a little surprised., but Edwina got there first. Sadly she's a heathen, every family has to have a disappointment. Mary hummed sympathetically though turned to Anthony clearly falling a little more in love with the idea of him as Kate's boyfriend than she already was, Now Anthony, have you ever made battenberg? And while Kate couldn't help but feel she'd slipped into a parallel universe as Anthony leapt into a description of the time that he had in fact made a battenberg cake, she had to admit, it was a little nice to see him interacting with her family this effortlessly.

Mary Sheffield wouldn't say she was necessarily intimidated by Anthony Bridgerton, but he was an imposingly successful person, for so young a man. He was tall, and a little disarmingly attractive particularly when he smiled with his entire face as he did when he looked at Kate, and he seemed so oddly formal all the time, perhaps a habit from his upbringing. It wasn't that she thought he was an unkind man, in fact she was rather attached to the idea of him being the father of her grandchildren one day, but the very last thing she expected him to say when he sidled up next to her at the end of brunch one day was Mary, I ahh I know that you usually watch bake off with Eddie, and I don't want to intrude or insert myself into your family God I wish you would, you can marry Kate tomorrow Mary had thought a little wildly, But I would be very honoured if you would maybe consider watching it at my house sometime. Um you and Eddie can both come, and Kate will be there, and I'll make dinner! He'd finished, the words spilling from his mouth before he could stop them, eager and he looked so young and excited that Mary's own heart had done an odd little flutter at her daughter's boyfriend being so sweet that he would sit and watching a baking show with her. Oh Anthony that sounds wonderful, Eddie and I will come this week. And the smile that had crossed his face was so breathtaking that Mary didn't have to wonder why Kate had fallen in love with him at all. And surely enough she arrived at Anthony's that week to find the table ladened with food, and a slightly confused looking Kate whose eyes flitted between them as they discussed the show and the techniques used. Mary had pulled Kate into a tight hug as she'd left whispering Katie, he's a very sweet man. You should marry him. in her ear at the end and despite the fact that Kate looked away embarrassedly she'd whispered I'll try.

Really, over the years, Kate had gotten almost used to the mania that engulfed Anthony during bakeoff season. The fact that he spent all week perfecting whatever the technical challenge had been to present at brunch on Sunday, or that he tutted and sighed whenever his favourite contestant left, and at least she had Matt now who despite being an expert baker himself was only so so on the show itself though he was rather more enamoured with Edwina's love of it that Kate was of Anthony's. But it really got out of hand when Edwina won celebrity Bake off, and presented the trophy to Anthony. That trophy became the bane of Kate's existence. It sat, in their Kitchen, in pride of place, right where a picture of the two of them used to rest, and while he would never admit to it, she knew he polished it regularly. This is the best thing that's ever happened to me He said proudly when he looked at it, Kate scoffing bemusedly. Anthony we have two children together. Anthony shrugged. Indignation flared in Kate's chest. If you could only do one thing: Take me and the boys to Disneyland which you know Edmund's desperate to do or go on Bakeoff what would it be? Anthony barely looked at her as he said Don't do this Kate, You'll only upset yourself.

[starlightrows]

The Perfect Day

Pairing: Paz Viszla x reader

Word Count: 2k

Tags: Dangerously high levels of fluff!

Summary: Paz goes out of the way to make your birthday special!

AN: Second time posting this, the original got deleted by mistake! This was created to celebrate my birthday! Loosely inspired by @maybege soulmate!paz!

Your nose twitches at the sweet smell of cocoa and coffee as you begin the pull towards wakefulness. The heavy blankets and duvet that keep you warm is being pulled back, and you can feel gentle breath being puffed onto your cheeks. He places gentle pressure on your forehead, again on your temple trailing down to the apple of your cheek to the tip of your nose. By the time he reaches your lips you can’t contain your sleepy smile. His laugh is deep and hearty between gentle kisses, coaxing you into opening your eyes.

“Good morning birthday girl,” he smiles. You squeeze your eyes shut and push your face up to his to nuzzle your nose against his, feeling extra cuddly from his wake up kisses.

“Good morning,” you reply

“Made you breakfast,” he says, you open your eyes and sit up with him.

“Oh! Thank you honey,” He brings a bread tray forward, loaded with a massive plate of what you correctly assume to be savory waffles, a bowl of fruit, and two cups of coffee. He sits on the bed cross legged in front of you, placing the tray between you.

You excitedly dig, enjoying the crispy exterior of the waffles and rich chocolate laced into the coffee. He sits back enjoying his coffee, and the fruits of his labor.

“Paz, there is so much of this. How early did you get up to pull all this off?” You ask, because even with both of you eating there is a lot of food.

“Not as early as you think, this is turning out to be more of a birthday brunch than a breakfast” he smiles sheepishly. You glance at the clock on his dresser. He’s right, it’s a quarter past 11. He let you sleep in well past your normal lazy day wake up time.

“I figured if I was going to make your favorite breakfast anyway, I might as well make a lot so we can save some for the next few days,” he explains

You can’t help but smile, it was a thoughtful gesture, but if he didn’t put them away soon you’d sit there and eat the whole platter full!

When the bunch was finished, you helped him take the dishes downstairs, despite his protests.

“It’s your day love, is there anything you’d like to do?” He asks while washing the utensils you’d used to eat.

“Well with all the fresh snow on the ground, I was thinking we could pull out the snow shoes and do a hike. We could try the lookout loop again,” you reply, peeking out the massive front window at the snowy driveway and dense forest just outside the cabin. While the ground may be covered in a thick blanket of snow, the sky is free of heavy cloud cover “it’s pretty clear out today, hopefully we’ll be able to see the valley this time,”

“Yeah, sounds great. I can pack the hiking bag if you want to go pull the snow shoes out from the equipment closet,” he tosses a tea towel over his shoulder. You nod and slammer off to find the snow shoes.

Half an hour later, you and Paz are sitting on the bench under the covered back porch wearing snow pants, lightweight thermal jackets, beanies and gloves; strapping the snowshoe attachments to your heavy snow boots. Paz carries the big hiking bag that houses your emergency supplies and water for the wintertime hike, while you carry the smaller bag that has snacks and a blanket for the look out point.

He gives you a hand up, and lets you lead the way to start out the hike. You’d done this hike together many times before, once you started moving you almost didn’t need to think about it. He fell in step just behind you and the two of you shared easy, fun conversation as you hiked the familiar path up the mountain. Air was still and cold, but you felt amazing, kept warm by your insulating layers and the movement of your body. This hike was beautiful as it is in the summer months, but winter was its own kind of beauty.

The last mile or so to reach the lookout point was the hardest part, Paz’s long strides made it somewhat easier for him and you laughed as he passed you on the uphill climb. Just like he always did. He welcomed you at the top with a gentle hand, leading you to the lookout point. This place was special to the two of you. You’d come up here dozens of times together, he’d proposed to you on this spot, and a year later you’d gotten married at the top of this mountain.

“You were right,” he said, directing your attention out over the valley. It was pristine and perfect. The valley was like a bowl, fully surrounded on all sides by steep snow capped mountains. The lake in the center was a deep dark inky black, without so much as a ripple on the water. The lack of breeze in the chilled air made everything still. It was absolutely gorgeous and exactly what you had been hoping for.

Paz helped ease the pack off your back, and fished the blanket out from the bottom. He did his best to dust off one of the massive boulders you often sat on when coming up here, and spread the blanket out over it.

You sat together on the blanket enjoying crisp apples, sour gummy worms, salty jerky and of course passing a thermos full of cocoa back and forth. The only acceptable lunch for a day hike you claimed.

Before long you and Paz packed up your blanket and small amount of trash back into the bag, and triple checked to make sure everything was just the way you had found it. Together you set off back down the mountain, leading for home.

As the two of you neared the edge of the forest, Paz reached out and snagged your arm.

“Shhh, look!” He whispered pointing through the trees towards the cabin. You followed his gaze and the direction of his finger. Your eyes went wide, and your jaw slacked in elated shock.

Through the trees you could see it, a massive bull moose, leisurely strolling through your backyard about 30 yards away from where you and Paz stood. You had to cover your mouth to suppress your giddiness. Moose are your favorite animal, and one of the more rare animals to see on this side of the mountain. This was the biggest one you’d ever seen, and certainly the closest you’d ever been to one.

Of course you were well aware of how dangerous they are, so being protected from its view by the trees at this comfortable distance was the best and safest scenario for you. But this was also the coolest, most exciting thing that had ever happened to you! Eventually the Moose trotted along and disappeared into the trees on the opposite side of the property. You shared a look with Paz.

“Oh my god! That was a little intense,” you said following him towards the house

“I know. I’ve never seen one that close in my life. I almost wish we’d had a camera,” he replied.

You sat together on the back porch once more, removing your snowshoes, and kicking the remaining snow off the bottom of your boots. Once inside both of you stripped out of your snow pants and coats, leaving you in base layers and socks. You hung up the heavy gear in the entryway closet, and collected the extra bits that could go in the wash like socks.

Paz approaches you leaned down a bit and kissed the top of your head.

“If you let me rinse off real quick, you can take a bath while I work on dinner,” he offers

You hum at the attention of his kisses, “How can I say no to that. Its a deal babe,”

True to his word, Paz jumps in for a very quick shower just to get the sweat off of his body. He emerges from the bathroom with wet hair and warm skin. He gives you one more lingering kiss before letting you run off to draw a fancy bath for yourself.

Meanwhile he busies himself in the kitchen to make sure he’s got enough time to finish dinner, that he had secretly already started that morning, as well as the dessert he had planned.

By the time you’re coming back downstairs looking very cozy in an oversized knit sweater and leggings, dinner is on the table and dessert is just going into the oven. The table is set for the two of you with your favorite meal, and a nice candle in the middle. You sidle up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“This is so romantic, you did all this for me?” You gaze lovingly at the beautiful dinner awaiting you.

“Of course,” he wraps his arms around you too, giving you a loving squeeze. He pulls away, and invites you to sit. The food is delicious, perfectly cooked just the way you like it. As you finish a timer goes off back in the kitchen.

You look past him into the kitchen, then turn your eyes back to him. “Paz?”

He grins mischievously, and gets up to pull dessert from the oven. It’s a small chocolate cake, and from the looks of it he’s attempted to make a lava cake with a gooey fudgy center. He turns it out onto a dish, and pulls the mold up and off it. He looks rather proud of himself. He sticks a single delicate white candle in the middle and deftly lights it. He sits it down in front of you with the warmest most genuine smile.

“Happy birthday baby,” he says “Don’t forget to make a wish,”

You giggle and give him a gentle smile, “I don’t know what more I could possibly wish for,” He grins at you. You do know what to wish for. You wish to be this happy every day. To feel this loved and cherished every moment for the rest of your days. You wish he would feel the same love and devotion coming from you. And you blow out the candle.

He produces two spoons and you share the dessert, finding its rich spongey cake to be without a shadow of a doubt the best dessert you’ve ever had. And you make sure to tell him that.

“I must be the most spoiled woman in the world. Breakfast, dinner and dessert! Will you at least let me help you do the dishes?” You ask when the plate has been all but licked clean of his chocolatey confection.

“Not a chance. You’re gonna go pick a movie,” he tells you, taking the plates into the kitchen to be washed. You laugh and shake your head, but acquiesce.

He joins you in the living room, and tumbles onto the couch pulling you on top of him to snuggle. In the end you choose an old favorite movie of yours, one that still makes you laugh despite the obviously terrible jokes. You’re half heartedly paying attention, more just basking in the warmth of Paz’s chest and the nostalgia of the film. Paz is not paying attention to the movie at all. He’s stroking your hair, and memorizing every detail of your face looking so blissful and content. Despite having been married for two years now, and together for two more, he could still spend an eternity studying your face and find something new or cute or amusing.

Your gaze drifted up to meet Paz, and your smile seemed to melt into a wider sleepier smile as you exhaled deeply.

“Good birthday?” He asks

“Mhm...” you nod “Perfect,”

[kyuuppi]

(Un)planned (requested)

Pairing: Orihara Izaya x Pregnant!Reader

Genre: fluff, a lil crack-y

Word Count: 4.9k

As you walk out of the hospital you can’t help but to feel as if you’re in a dream, as if nothing is real. The only thing tying you to reality are the freshly printed documents verifying your pregnancy that feel unnaturally heavy in your purse. The reality of the situation was easier to accept than you expected, really. You have been married for a while and you can recall several instances in which you two hadn’t been exactly safe with your escapades. Being pregnant is not something that bothers you either—you have always wanted to have children at some point in your life. The only problem, the only thing keeping you from feeling properly excited by the news is the father of the child itself—Orihara Izaya. It is not something the two of you had ever discussed and, knowing first hand just how dangerous his field of work as one of Japan’s best information brokers...well, you aren’t sure if you two could create a healthy environment for a child to grow up in. Providing love and food on the table was one thing, providing safety and security was another.

At the thought of food your stomach involuntarily grumbles. You didn’t realize just how hungry you are until now. You hadn’t eaten all day, the nervousness about the doctor’s visit having ruined your appetite. It is by sheer coincidence that you notice a familiar face only a few meters ahead entering the infamous sushi bar. You follow after him without hesitation.

“Welcome to Russia Sushi,” Simon greets with a grin.

You smile in return before sidling into the booth next to the blond man you had followed in.

“Hi, Shizuo,” you greet shyly. The man nods in acknowledgement, already looking over the menu.“Y/n,” he returns coolly, “how have you been?” His gaze suddenly darkens as his grip on the laminated menu tightens and you can already tell what he’s about to ask next.

“Has...the flea been treating you well?”

You have no doubt one word of complaint about Izaya would have Shizuo tearing the city apart to kill him. Shizuo was one of the first people in Ikebukuro you had met who you could call a “friend.” Although he wasn’t the type to frequent brunch dates and sleepovers to watch anime and gossip, he always made sure to greet you with a small smile, regardless of how his day was going, and had promised to protect you if you ever needed it.

It was already several months into your friendship when you had started dating Izaya and at first Shizuo had...not been happy, to say the least. To the blond, Izaya was incapable of genuinely caring about anyone but himself. There was always an interior motive and the people around him would always be in danger. After several long, long months of persuasive speaking on your part (naturally Izaya just got a kick out of teasing the man about your relationship rather than seeking approval), an official marriage to the man, and Shizuo seeing you still remaining unharmed through it all, Shizuo finally seems to accept your relationship—or at least tolerate it. However, you know one bad word about Izaya and Shizuo would be ready to kick his ass to Hong Kong on your behalf.

‘I wonder what he’d think about me not telling Izaya about the pregnancy.’ You mentally sour at the thought and physically shake your head to get rid of it.

“He’s been an angel,” you joke. Shizuo scoffs and you end up giggling as well. Regardless of disagreeing on just how bad Izaya is, you both know he’s far from an angel.

He had always been more curved horns and pointy tail than halo and wings...but you love him all the same.

Before Shizuo can verbally respond (likely with an insult about ‘the flea’), Simon appears behind the bar before you two, ready to take your orders. As usual, Shizuo places his order first so that you have a little longer to decide.

“I’ll take the natto sushi—” you can’t help but to shiver in disgust at the sound. “—and today’s special.”

You perk up at that.

“Special?”

Simon grins at your interest.

“Yes, today’s special is yummy drink, tastes just like Russian seaweed farms! Special is very good.”

The idea of a Rusian seaweed farm drink is moderately concerning but between Simon’s excitement and Shizuo’s unbothered look you decide to order it against your better judgement, along with some fatty tuna.

Izaya must really be rubbing off on you.

You and Shizuo share a few minutes of idle talk while you wait for your orders. He tells you of the most ridiculous people he has had to collect debts or protect Tom Tanaka from this month and your laughter has you forgetting about all of your pregnancy worries. You’ve completely relaxed by the time drinks arrive and you take a sip without hesitation.

“Mmm,” your eyes widen as you regard Shizuo, “this is actually really good!”

Shizuo offers a rare boyish grin before he sips his own pale green drink, watching you go in for more.

“Right? You can hardly even tell there’s any vodka in it.”

 ‘Vodka!?’

You gasp, accidentally inhaling extra liquid before you begin spluttering in panic. Shizuo quickly jumps into action, harshly patting your back but careful not to use too much strength. Half of the restaurant is looking your way in concern and even Simon looks like he’s just about to catapult himself over the bar to help you when you finally calm down and your choking is reduced to harsh pants while you try to catch your breath. You think most of the drink had been expelled in your coughing fit but you still feel queasy and anxious. What if it hurts the baby?

“Y/n, are you okay?’ Shizuo asks, hand awkwardly rubbing your back in an attempt to be comforting. “Are you allergic or something.”

“N-no, it’s not that I’m allergic but...I can’t have alcohol for a while.”

Shizuo raises a brow at that and you feel grateful that everyone seems to have returned to their own work by now, no longer staring at you. Simon has left the bar to attend to a customer in one of the private dining rooms, leaving you and Shizuo essentially alone in your corner of the sushi restaurant.

“Why can’t you have alcohol for a while? You used to love sake.”

He sends a teasing smirk with the last part, referring to an embarrassingly drunken moment you’d had a few weeks into living in the city. Shizuo had sworn to never bring it up again but clearly he paid that particular oath no mind.

“Well, um…”

You begin to fidget nervously. Originally you had no intentions of telling anyone about the baby but...Shizuo was a good friend, maybe your closest friend in Ikebukuro aside from Celty. You have no doubts he would be nothing but supportive and kind to you in a time when you need it most—that is, after he gets over the idea of another person sharing Izaya’s DNA being brought into the world, of course.

“Promise me you won’t tell anyone—not even Izaya. Especially not Izaya.”

Shizuo perks up at that, seeming interested in the prospect of you having something not even Izaya, your husband and the greatest information broker in all of Japan, knows about. Perhaps a small part of him would even relish in having something to keep from Izaya, some sort of “one-up” on the man.

“Of course,” he replies immediately, nodding.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself.

“I’m pregnant.”

Everything seems to pause at your confession. Shizuo sits stock still and as the silence stretches on you begin to fear he didn’t hear and you’ll have to repeat it. However, before you can open your mouth to repeat those incriminating words, you’re startled by a sharp snap and look down to find the wooden chopsticks in Shizuo’s right hand broken in half. You trust him and know he would never hurt you but your heart rate still spikes and you tense in your seat, hand subconsciously resting over your stomach protectively. Shizuo's wide eyes follow the movement.

“Y-you're…" He finally stutters out. "...whose is it?"

You gawk, suddenly offended.

"Wh-who!? It’s Izaya's, you dumbass, who else!"

"I didn't want to make any assumptions!"

Your anger quickly dissolves into giggles at Shizuo's panicked expression and he visibly relaxes at the sound. There are a few moments of moderately comfortable silence between the two of you before Shizuo sighs and speaks again.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised, you've been married for a while now." His expression sours once he mentions marriage and you can tell he's internally reliving some of his worst encounters with your husband.

"I just can't believe there's going to be two of them now," he pouts. "That annoying piece of—"

"Hey," you interrupt, a teasing smirk on your face. "That's my baby daddy you're talking about."

Shizuo’s pales, looking like he'll throw up in disgust at any moment and you can't help but to laugh.

Maybe this whole pregnancy thing isn’t so bad.

. . .

You had been wrong—very wrong.

After your impromptu lunch with Shizuo, as you were walking out with your extra bag of fatty tuna to-go, it suddenly hit that you were about to go to the home you shared with Orihara Izaya pregnant with the unplanned child he knows nothing about. You nearly had a panic attack several times on the walk there as you mentally played through a multitude of scenarios of how to tell him and what his reaction might be. Izaya is involved in dangerous, illegal work—you can’t imagine a family and kids fits anywhere in that. You were lucky enough to have been asked to marry the man—there’s no way he would be ready for children as well.

‘Would he tell me to get rid of it?’

You had worked yourself so much on the way that by the time you arrived to the apartment you were mentally exhausted and barely managed to place the sushi in the fridge before you collapsed on the couch and turned on the television to zone out until Izaya came home.

A few hours later a sound at the front door jolted you to attention.

“I’m home~!” a man’s voice cheerfully booms from the entrance.

You silently pray to every god in existence that you can pull an Oscar-worthy act before plastering a smile on your face and standing to greet your husband.

“Welcome home, Izaya! I bought fatty tuna, it’s in the fridge.”

Izaya’s vermillion eyes seem to sparkle at that and he immediately makes his way to the kitchen after shedding his trademark faux fur-trimmed coat. That buys you enough time to contemplate your next course of action and how you will break the news to him. You know that, despite the fact he enjoys games and toying with others for as long as he deems entertaining, he expects direct answers from the people who work for him like Namie or Celty. But how could you possibly just outright say you’re pregnant right now? The man is humming to himself while stuffing his face with sushi right now for god’s sake—the mood is totally off!

“—Y/n?”

Your own name startles you out of your thoughts and as you blink to tune back into the outside world you find Izaya learning against the counter directly across from you, eying you with mirth as he holds the plastic container of sushi, nearly half empty by now.

“My, my. Someone seems a bit distracted today,” he taunts lowly. You tense at that, fearing he’s about to ask you what you’re thinking about.

Luckily, he seems to be feeling merciful today as he simply repeats what he was saying while you were zoned out, his tone back to almost childish glee.

“I was saying I met with Goto-chan today—y’know the one who was on ‘vacation’ for while—” he uses air quotes with the free hand not holding up the sushi and you can’t help but to smile at that, unhealthily endeared by this odd, dangerous man.

“—well turns out he has a kid now. He even brought her to our meeting with his gang; what terrible parenting~! Right, Y/n-chan?”

You gulp before barely managing a nod of agreement, suddenly extremely uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.

“I would never take my own young offspring to a place like that. Sometimes meetings end very badly, y’know~,” he continues on. You’re suddenly aware of the sweat collecting at your brow despite the moderate temperature in the apartment and you wonder if the panic is showing on your face.

 ‘He...he doesn’t know anything yet...right?’

There’s a beat of silence in which you two just stare at each other. Your face feels clammy and hot but you try your best to maintain a neutral expression while Izaya’s lips are curved into their usual smirk with a playful glint in his deep red eyes—along with something else you can’t quite read but somehow evokes a ball of dread to form deep within your gut.

A few seconds later and the moment is gone as Izaya turns away to dispose of the empty sushi contained and is rambling on about something else you don’t have the energy to even pretend to listen to as relief washes over your body.

The rest of the night is spent curled up on the couch watching cartoons while Izaya works, not bringing up the topic of children again for the rest of the night. You decide waiting a little longer to tell him wouldn’t hurt—you just need some time to gather your thoughts and plan exactly how to tell him.

. . .

Somehow “a little longer” becomes “a lot longer” as every time you approach Izaya with a speech already planned, you look into his eyes and immediately chicken out. To make matters worse, you aren’t sure if you’re just being hyper-aware of all things related to children now or if the whole world is really out to get you but it seems babies are everywhere. A few days after that night you turned on the TV to watch something with Izaya only to find a pregnancy documentary of all things on which Izaya insisted you two watch because he wanted to “learn more about the development of his precious humans.” Another few days after that the two of you were on a rare evening walk together when a small, crying child approached the two of you claiming to have lost his mother while chasing a dog. Izaya unexpectedly took over the situation and handled it exceptionally well, diligently looking for the boy’s mother with you while keeping him entertained to the point he didn’t even want to say goodbye to Izaya when you two finally found his mother.

External factors like that made things a little more difficult for you as you attempted not to let your secret slip out but other factors were a lot more difficult to hide—such as your slowly but steadily growing belly and strange new mood swings. The former was easily remedied by electing to wear your looser more comfortable clothing. Izaya had never been a physically affectionate partner so you didn’t have to worry about him noticing your stomach in a hug or anything like that and he never pushed when you turned down his occasional sexual advances at night citing that you were too tired or had a stomach ache. Your mood swings and other hormonal changes, however, were not so avoidable.

The first time you had raised your voice at him—and over something so small as coming home half an hour later than he said he would—came as a surprise to both of you. After a moment of wide eyed staring from both sides he seemed to recover quickly though and teased you about missing him too much. A few times you had also spontaneously burst into tears for no apparent reason, to which he simply pulled you into his side and started telling you a random funny story about his adventures at work until your tears stopped.

But even with Izaya being so unintentionally helpful in keeping your secret, the pressure and guilt of constantly lying to your own husband and the man famed for knowing everything gradually eats at you day-by-day, hour-by-hour, and minute-by-minute until you are constantly seeking a relief from the stress. Sometimes that comes in form of finishing a whole box of chocolates, sometimes via napping for six hours straight, and sometimes through social media and chatrooms.

One Thursday afternoon you log in to the chat for the first time since finding out you’re pregnant, pleasantly surprised to see your two favorite members already online.

▶▶ [USER01] has entered the chat.

[Tarō Tanaka] Hello, User-san. Long time no see.

[Setton] we missed u User-chan.

You smile, instantly feeling better with the online presence of your friends.

[USER01] hey, guys. whats up?

[Setton] Tanaka-san was just talking about volunteering at the daycare.

[Tarō Tanaka] Ah, I just had some freetime…

[Setton] don’t be modest. ur really amazing Tanaka-san.

[Tarō Tanaka] Ahaha, really it’s nothing! I just played with some babies for a few hours...

[Setton] nonsense. don’t u think Tanaka-san is cool, User-chan?

You take a second too long to answer, suddenly feeling anxious by the reminder of daycares and babies. You wonder if you and Izaya will leave your own child at a daycare some day...if he even accepts the child.

[USER01] ah, yeah..very cool

[Tarō Tanaka] User-san are you alright? You seem a little off today, you’re usually more talkative...

[Setton] u know u can tell us anything. we’re friends.

You hesitate to type, your trembling hands hovering over the keyboard as you consider your options. On one hand, you feel guilty at the prospect of telling more people who are not your husband before actually telling Izaya himself. As the father, regardless of his reaction, he deserved to be the first to know. On the other hand, keeping these overwhelming feelings to yourself makes you feel as if you’ll burst at the seams. So much stress can’t be good for the baby.

  [USER01] well, to be honest I’m….

▶▶ [Kanra] has entered the chat.

[Kanra] Yahoo~! (≧∇≦)/

[Kanra] What is everyone talking about today?? owo

[USER01] nothing much!! just the weather..it has been so hot lately!

[Tarō Tanaka] But it’s September…

[Setton] ???

[Setton] ah yeah, nothing much i guess...how are u Kanra?

[Kanra] Ehh~ What’s with this weird atmosphere!? I feel like everyone is keeping secrets from Kanra-chan! (●´^｀●)

[USER01] no way!! not at all! ah, its already this late? I have to get dinner soon, bye-bye!!

[Tarō Tanaka] It’s only 2 o’clock though...

▶▶ [USER01] has left the chat.

Your laptop closes with a resounding tap and you release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Izaya seems to have impeccably awful timing. You hate to think you were moments away from confessing your secret right in front of him and two mutual friends in a public chat room. You’re fairly certain that must be among the top ten worst ways to announce a pregnancy.

Frazzled, you head to the kitchen to make a snack.

After shuffling through the refrigerator for a few minutes, pushing aside suddenly unappetizing leftovers of Chinese take-out and pizza, you settle on sliced pineapple, kimchi, and a pack of microwaveable rice from the cabinet. Even you knew the combination was abhorrent in normal circumstances, but for the past few weeks you found yourself craving obscure combinations of food from ice cream drizzled with honey mustard to canned tuna and chocolate.

You are only a few bites in when you hear the familiar sounds of the front door opening and your husband announcing his arrival. The lanky man immediately slips into the kitchen to greet you with a small peck on the top of your head.

“I see my favorite little human is enjoying one of her...creations again,” Izaya comments.

When you look up you catch the split second of disgust on his features as he eyes your bowl before he quickly schools his expression back into something more neutral. You almost laugh.

“Do you want me to make you some?” You can’t help but to tease, trying your best to feign a serious expression as you ask.

Izaya looks mildly horrified before playing it off with a dismissive laugh.

“No thanks, I already ate.”

He gracefully breezes past you to make his way through the living room and to his personal office in the back where he make quick work of logging into his desktop. It is a usual occurrence—despite being home his work is never truly finished. He has to be flexible in his field, ready to gather new intel the moment it becomes available. It is strange to compare Izaya to anyone with a regular job but you often find yourself thinking he must really love his career if he invests so much of himself into it. You’re sure that by now he has done enough odd jobs to no longer need the money to live the rest of his life worry-free and yet he continues to work relentlessly, never taking a vacation day once in the years you’ve known him.

“By the way,” Izaya calls out, interrupting your thoughts.

“I have some things to take care of in Ōsaka this weekend. I’ll be back Sunday night.”

He glances up from his computer to send you a teasing smirk.

“Try not to get too lonely without me~”

You nearly choke on a piece of pineapple as you fluster, immediately denying his claim despite his obnoxious laughter drowning out your protests.

It is not until you lie in bed that night, trying to fall asleep, that you recognize this could be the moment you’ve been waiting for.

. . .

The next morning, after seeing Izaya off for the weekend, you grab your laptop and log into your nearly forgotten Pinterest account to look for cute pregnancy announcement ideas. With Izaya physically out of the house for more than 24 hours you feel the pressure of constantly hiding all clues lifted off your shoulders and you feel free to properly put something together that you hope will result in a more positive reaction from him than just blurting it out of the blue. You have to periodically remind yourself that this is his child as much as it is yours and he is just as responsible for creating it so that you don’t psych yourself out imagining him blaming you for potentially ruining his life.

A majority of the pins you scroll through are immediate no’s. They’re either way too corny or tacky and you highly doubt Izaya would appreciate the humor in a “thx for knocking me up!” sticker.

...Okay well maybe he would but you certainly wouldn’t.

By the twelfth page you feel exasperated. You’re almost tempted to just send him an “I’m pregnant” text right now to get it over with—at least you won’t be there to see his expression in realtime. That’s when you stumble upon the pin. You immediately click the little square before it loads into an image that takes up your full screen. On the image is a white marble background, likely a kitchen countertop, with a round white cake in the center with the words “we’re having a baby!” sprawled on top in purple icing.

It is simple, to the point, cute, and most importantly—cake.

Who doesn’t love cake?

 ‘Well, Izaya doesn’t really like sweet things that much…’

You mentally tell your self-conscious to shut up. A cake would be perfect.

With your mind made up, slam your laptop shut and get dressed to go to your nearest bakery and place your order.

. . .

On Sunday afternoon you pick up your cake from the bakery, only mildly embarrassed by the amount of times the owner bids you a “congratulations” and “your husband is lucky man!” When you make it back to the apartment and open up the blue pastry box on the counter everything suddenly feels very real. The cake itself is perfect—exactly like the picture you saw that day on Pinterest. A white buttercream base with beautiful purple letters spelling out “we’re having a baby!” in cursive. There are even small yellow flowers surrounding the edges, as suggested by the shop owner.

It looks absolutely delicious but you feel like you’re going to throw up.

According to Izaya’s text that morning he’ll be back within three hours from now and that’s when you’ll have to wordlessly hand him this cake and watch as his expression morphs into something you’ve likely never seen before.

‘What if he just abandons us?’

Your right hand unconsciously wraps over the now noticeable little bulge on your stomach. It’s too late to have second-thoughts, you reason with yourself, the longer you draw this out the worse it will be. You decide a quick nap would do some good to ease your nerves. You’ll set your alarm for half an hour from now then clean the apartment and put on some soothing cartoons until Izaya gets home. After gingerly placing the cake box in the refrigerator you shuffle up the stairs to the bedroom. You’re unconscious almost as soon as your head hits the pillow.

. . .

When you peel your eyelids open you find yourself feeling more calm than you remember feeling after a nap. You stretch each of your limbs and wriggle your toes as you allow your foggy brain to properly wake up.The rays of light streaming through the blinds seem to radiate a comforting warmth to fight of the chill of the bedroom.

 ‘Wait...light!?’

A rush of panic overtakes your system and you scramble to find your phone on the bedside table, nearly screaming when you read the blaring white digits on the screen.

 9:07AM

You didn’t just take a nap, you slept through the night.

Your head whips around to find the other side of the bed neatly made, just as it was when you climbed in bed yesterday. Maybe you still had a chance—maybe some unforeseen thing happened and Izaya had to spend an extra night in Ōsaka. You nearly trip and faceplant several times in your haste to rush downstairs and into the kitchen where you’d hid the cake.

Placing the cold box on the counter, your hands tremble lightly as they slowly lift the lid.

You heart skips a beat.

One perfectly sized slice was missing, leaving only a few crumbs in its wake.

You don’t even have time to have a proper mental breakdown before a door slams shut. “Ah, I see you’re finally awake~!”

Almost in slow motion your eyes slide from the cake to the tall black haired man holding a bag of what some distant part of your brain recognizes as breakfast from your favorite café. Izaya looks unbothered, irritatingly so, as if he had no idea of the inner turmoil you are currently experiencing.

“You must have been exhausted—you didn’t even stir when I came in last night.”

He has the audacity to exaggerate a pout as he whines, “it made me feel unwelcome, y’know~”

“Th-the...cake...” you barely manage to stutter out, struggling to make sense of the current situation.

“Hmm?” he hums, the smirk of his lips making it apparent he knows exactly what you’re thinking.

“Ah, yes, thank you for the treat~ I don't usually like sweets but this one was surprisingly delicious~!”

He begins to casually place his bags on the counter across from you and pull out the breakfast items, explaining nothing more and even humming a bit to himself as he works to sort the food.

God you want to punch him.

You swallow thickly to steady yourself before trying again.

“S-so what do you think about...it” you ask, awkwardly gesturing to your stomach..

"Hmm? Ah, the vanilla was good but there was a little too much icing—"

"NO DUMBASS, I WAS TALKING ABOUT THE BABY!” You finally snap, face bright red in anger.

Izaya only guffaws, laughing as if you had just cracked the joke of the century. You’re only split seconds from throwing the whole cake at him when his laughter finally dies down and he slides around the counter and to your side. He wraps his arms around your waist, hands gently resting on either side of your belly and you feel your heart flutter unexpectedly at the tenderness of the action.

“You’re so cute when you think you’re hiding something from me.”

Your breath hitches.

“Wh-what? What do you mean by that—” you desperately attempt to turn to face him but his hold keeps you firmly in place.

“I’ve known since day one~” he sing-songs, sounding annoyingly proud of himself. “I’m surprised you finally decided to tell me though. I was starting to think you’d wait until you went into labor and needed a ride to the hospital,” Izaya jokes. “No way,” you protest, “that’s literally impossible—there’s no way you could have known already.”

He moves one arm from your body to swipe at some frosting on the forgotten cake, bringing it over to your lips in an offering you accept without thinking, taste buds tingling at the sweetness.

“Silly Y/n—I’m an expert at planning, y’know? All those times we ‘forgot’ to use protection weren’t an accident~”

Your whole body seems to erupt in flames as a blush takes over your face. This time, you really do hit him.

“I-idiot!!”

[iwritesongfics]

Pairings: Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: Maybe the reader being a bit emo? Maybe some light angst at most? I tried to make this as fluffy as I could.

Notes: It’s been SO long since I watched The Punisher, so this doesn’t really follow any timeline.

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

You and Billy have been friends for as long as you can remember. You were in the group home together as children and somehow found each other again in a city with almost 19 million people. Kismet, you thought.

But maybe you would have been better off without being friends with him again?

You watched him from across the table, his arm draped around his latest date. You could never remember their names, but he insisted on bringing them on nights out with your friends, declaring that he didn’t want to be a third wheel with Frank and Karen. I guess that made you the fifth wheel?

You sighed to yourself in what seemed like the 100th time, and you hoped no one would notice. You suddenly feel a warm hand on your arm and look up. Frank looks at you with concerned eyes and you give him a small smile. You could usually hold your feelings but there was something about tonight. Maybe you were PMS-ing or something. Or something. You glanced at him again, whispering something in her ear, making her giggle and kiss him on the nose. You stood abruptly, startling them.

“I think I’ll go on ahead,” you said with a tight smile. “Early start tomorrow.”

“You got a shoot tomorrow?” Karen asked. As your roommate, she knew you only ever got up early for photoshoots.

“Yup yup,” you chirped uncharacteristically, desperate to sound cheerful. “We’re going to the beach and I want to catch the sunrise.”

Billy looked up, he knew how much you loved watching the sun rise, despite hating waking up early. He suddenly smirked. “Is it a bikini shoot, Y/N?” You rolled your eyes. “No, Billy, the models are going to be wearing ballgowns on the beach. Of course, it’s a bikini shoot.” He grinned even wider at that. “Maybe I’ll drop by and check out your shots,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously. His date (Cherie? Sheryl?) shot him a scandalized glare, which he didn’t even notice. “Well, it’s just at Brighton,” you offered, mentally kicking yourself. Why would you even invite him?

Everyone stood up for goodbye hugs, and maybe it was your imagination, but Billy gave you a tight squeeze around the waist before he let go. “Bye, everyone. Nice to meet you, Cherie (Sheryl?),” Whatever. It’s not like you were going to see her again.

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

You watched the crew as they set up in the dark. The models were huddled together around a portable heater, wearing sweatsuits over their bikinis. They were already being made up by the makeup artists. How they could work with only a ring light in the dark amazed you.

You sat a little way off, watching the play of colors in the sky as the sun started its ascent. The sand in your little dune suddenly shifted, and you felt someone sit beside you. Billy. What was he doing here? “What are you doing here?” He leaned back, staring at the purpling sky. “I said I’d drop by.” “We haven’t even started,” you countered. He shrugged. “I wanted to watch the sunrise with you.” Don’t. You sighed. Does he even know what he does to you? You two sit in comfortable silence, watching the sun rise, turning the sky into your favorite pinks and purples and oranges. You felt him put his arm around you. “You cold? You’re shivering in that thin sweater. What’re you even thinking, Y/N?” Billy chided. You. I was thinking about you, and whether you’d show up to my stupid shoot at my stupid invitation. You turned and hit him lightly on the chest, his arm falling back to his side. You thought you saw him glance at your shoulder where his arm rested. “I was thinking of how I’m going to shoot with 3 hours of sleep, you dolt.”

You stood up, brushing the sand from your jeans, and started making your way down to where everyone was. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone, aka the models you really wanted to see.” You saw his eyes shift for a moment before crinkling in that smile you loved. “Maybe later, I’ll go grab some coffee.” He adjusted his cap and headed over to the boardwalk.

Grabbing your equipment, you adjusted your camera quickly, brushing thoughts of Billy away, wanting to make most of the morning sunlight. Morning shoots usually go by quickly, before the sun gets too high and gets in everyone’s eyes. You were just finishing up by midmorning when you saw Billy sidle towards you. “You done?” Offering you a cup of coffee. You smiled and took the steaming cup from him. “Where’d you go?” He smiled sheepishly. “I was just watching you work.” You felt yourself blush. “Oh. Well, I’m almost done. Do you want me to introduce you to the models now?” You offered. Wow, who knew you had masochistic tendencies? You thought you saw Billy’s eyes harden again before it disappeared. Maybe you just imagined it. “Or we could grab brunch?” he said, turning away from you and staring at the small waves lapping at the shore.

He helped you lug your equipment back to your car and grabbed your keys from you. “I’m driving!” You slid into the passenger seat acquiescingly. Only Billy could ever drive your car. “Clinton St.?” You nodded. You had no idea what was going on, but you were going to enjoy it while you can.

“What are you doing later?” Billy asked as you dug in your favorite waffles at your most favorite brunch spot. “Hm?” You looked up, only half listening, concentrating on dousing your brunch with maple syrup. “You want to hang out with me after this? He grinned at you sheepishly. He looked so adorable, with one hand resting at the nape of his neck. He looked, almost, bashful.

“Billy, aren’t you busy with work?” you stopped eating and stared at him. “Yeah, but I just felt like taking a day off today,” he said, grinning at you mischievously. “You just felt like taking a day off? You never take a day off,” you said skeptically, narrowing your eyes at him. “Don’t look at me like that, Y/N! I was going to go to work after your shoot, but I guess there’s something about the beach that makes me want to play hooky. Please play hooky with me,” he grabbed your hand and looked at you pleadingly, his large dark eyes boring into yours irresistibly. “Fine!” you snapped jokingly, prying your hand away from his. “Now let me eat my brunch in peace!” He poked his fork at one of your syrup-drenched waffle slices. “Never!” he said as he popped a piece in his mouth. You rolled your eyes and scooted further away from him to keep him from stealing the rest of your meal.

After brunch Billy took you to your place to drop off your work stuff and grab a change of clothes. He told you to just shower at his place so you wouldn’t have to stay long in your apartment. As soon as you got to his apartment, you immediately went over to the bathroom to shower in the guest bedroom since you were literally itching with sand.

You screwed your hair up in a knot and went back to the living room after a quick shower, with Billy nowhere to be found. You had just settled in his comfortable (read: squishy) leather sofa when he emerged from his bedroom, his hair still damp from the shower he obviously took. He looked so good in a thick knitted sweater you just wanted to bury your face into.

“Hey, Y/N, so what are we doing now?” he said, jumping into the space right beside you. “I don’t know, Billy, this was your idea,” you said, suddenly uncomfortable at the lack of distance between you and him. You tried to sit up straighter and crossed your arms in front of you stiffly.

Billy frowned. “Why do you do that?” You turned to face him slightly. “Why do you keep pulling away from me, Y/N?” Suddenly blushing furiously, you slowly turned to face him. “I don’t,” you blurted out stupidly. “Yes, you do! What did I do? And don’t lie to me, I’ve known you since you were 8 years old.”

“I – ,” you stammered, looking down at your hands placed firmly on your lap. Billy took your hands in his and brought it up to his chest. The tension was palpable as you prolonged having to look up at him, but as soon as you did, he leaned forward and gave you a soft kiss on the lips.

You drew back as if scalded. “Billy...” His eyes suddenly had a guarded look. “Sorry, Y/N, I shouldn’t have. I should have known you wouldn’t feel the same way.” Your eyes grew large with surprise and you didn’t know what to say. Billy disentangled his hands from yours and moved to stand up, but you involuntarily grabbed his hand and pulled him back down to sit.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said again, refusing to look at you. “Billy, no, I just don’t want to be like the others,” you confessed. “Others?” he blinked up at you confusedly. “All your dates. I’d rather be friends than be a one time ‘date’,” you said. You’ve wanted Billy for as long as you can remember, even when you were 14 and he said he wanted to be your first kiss, but you chickened out because you wanted to stay friends. Even now you’d still rather have the friendship than lose him when he got bored of you. You stared at your hand holding his, willing yourself not to cry even as tears build up in your eyes.

Billy suddenly gave a bark of laughter, and you looked up, surprised. “Those dates? Y/N, I brought them all to make you jealous. You wouldn’t even give me a second glance.” You looked even more confused. “What the hell are you talking about, Billy?” He scoffed. “You didn’t even want me to be your first kiss.”

He remembered. “I liked you since you were at the home, Y/N. But you never liked me back,” he smiled ruefully.

You had no words. You leaned towards him and gave him a soft kiss as your answer. Billy deepened the kiss, grabbing the nape of your neck with his strong hands.

“You should have just told me, Billy,” you whispered when you finally broke off from each other.

“Why didn’t you?” he retorted, and started kissing you again.

You giggled when he swooped down and carried you bridal style to his bedroom. You imagined this moment for so long, him staring down at you with those dark eyes. You reached up and cupped his face, kissing up his jawline softly, and smiled against his face as he hissed in pleasure.

“I’m serious, Billy,” you said softly, looking into his eyes earnestly. “I don’t want to be just another girl.”

“You were never just another girl, Y/N,” he whispered back, peppering your face with soft kisses. You finally got the chance to bury your face in his soft sweater like you thought earlier today.

***

Sunlight hit your face as you woke up, cursing yourself for forgetting to close your curtains again last night. As you shifted your weight, you were suddenly aware of someone cuddling you from behind. You shifted to face Billy, who was still sound asleep beside you, his arm wrapped around your waist. It wasn’t a dream. You kissed his nose, and he slowly blinked his eyes open. “I’ve always wanted to do that,” you smiled softly at him. “I’ve always wanted you to do that,” he replied, gathering you closer to him.

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

To the only person in my tag list so far @fific7, I hope you like this happier ending 💖

[ears-awake-eyes-opened]

Smashed

(Hayffie ❤️. Sensual angst and relationship building during the 72nd Hunger Games. Raw and vulnerable Effie is without a doubt the most gorgeous muse I’ve ever had. — Thank you for sharing the prompt. Writing this story brought up memories of a young man who died in his sleep in November 2019. I’d known him since he was 5 years old. Someone who has been drinking heavily, which can mean as few as 5 drinks, give or take, on an empty stomach, may need help. Watch for signs of alcohol poisoning, and don’t let them fall asleep unattended. The young man I knew had little experience with alcohol. If someone had been caring for him similarly to how Haymitch takes care of Effie in this fic, then he would likely still be alive. I think about him often.)

***

Haymitch startled awake and clutched his knife. His ears rang with an echo of shattered glass followed by humming. The sounds were muffled but too loud to be the residue of a dream. Dawn hadn’t yet broken, and it took a moment in darkness to remember whose bed he was in. ...The Capitol’s. The penthouse. The same room he’d slept in for 22 Julys but would never stoop to call his own.

This was supposed to be his day to sleep in if he could. The tributes from 11 and 12 had been killed during the bloodbath at the Cornucopia the day before, and he’d spent the afternoon with Chaff. Everything between then and now was a bit hazy. There’d been Vodka shots, and then a *pick-up* game in the betting lounge to see which of them would be the first to be propositioned for sex.

Not ten minutes in, Haymitch was approached by a woman with pale blue hair flowing down her back, a jeweled collar around her throat, and breast implants the size of cantaloupes. “Hey, victor. Wanna get out of here?”

“Not tonight, sweetheart,” he muttered low enough for Chaff not to hear. This was his buddy’s game, not his. The last thing he wanted in the middle of the Games was to be a piece of meat for some Capitol bitch.

A waif like creature with tattooed olive skin and an unusually large ass for her tiny frame sidled up to Chaff soon afterward. ‘I win,’ he mouthed as he walked out the door with his hand already sliding into the back waistband of her pants.

Glass shattered again, shaking Haymitch from his fog covered memories. What the hell?! As the humming grew louder, he dragged himself out of bed and followed the sound into the living room.

Effie sat on the sofa wearing yesterday’s clothes. Her ankles were crossed on top of the coffee table. “I’ll have another, dear!” She called to a red-clad Avox. He stepped out from the shadows and handed her an oversized champagne flute. She dropped her feet to the floor and promptly filled the new stemware from a large, nearly empty pitcher of orange liquid. Her flute overflowed. The liquid pooled on the table, then dripped over the edge to the purple rug. The Avox stood by with a handtowel draped over his arm, but she didn’t call for one so he remained inconspicuous.

“You know...” Effie spoke to the pink wig she’d taken off at some point and set beside her on the couch, “I’ve always thought that rug needed more color. Orange goes with purple like wildflowers on a mountainside.”

She tucked a lock of blonde hair behind her ear, bent forward at the waist, put her mouth to the rim of the glass, and sipped the drink with a loud slurp until it was emptied enough to not spill further. As she raised her head, she caught sight of Haymitch.

All traces of the lipstick she’d worn the day before were gone. Her lips glistened with whatever she was drinking. A thought flashed through his mind of what it would be like to kiss her. He’d wondered before. As she licked her lips, looking at him like she was, he had a hard time thinking about anything else.

Neither of them glanced away nor said a word as he watched her swallow the rest of her drink. The spell broke when she smashed the flute to the floor and started humming again. The tune this time was unmistakable. It was the same melody that played in the arena when images of dead tributes were projected into a darkened sky.

“Effie, what the hell are you doing?”

“I’m having brunch!”

“Brunch? It’s 5am.”

“Mimosas make any meal brunch!”

“I don’t see a meal here, sweetheart. Have you eaten since yesterday?”

“Yesterday we had dinner with the children. You remember. They picked at the food, but they had the decency to use silverware.”

“That wasn’t yesterday. That was the day before. Have you eaten anything since then?”

“I never eat on the first day of the Games. Nothing settles well...”

He’d been too wrapped up in his own miserable sense of responsibility and tension on Day 1 to notice her eating habits or lack thereof.

“...But these mimosas certainly are delicious.” She snapped her fingers and the Avox stepped into the light again. Effie held up the empty pitcher. The Avox took it as soon as he was clear that she didn’t intend to throw it on the floor. “Bring us another round and two more glasses.”

“Hold up,” Haymitch said to the Avox. “Bring a pitcher of water and a plastic cup. Make sure the pitcher is plastic too. And bring some crackers. ...And an empty bucket, thanks.”

“And crepes! With strawberries and cream cheese, chopped candied pecans and a drizzle of maple syrup... and mimosas!” Effie added.

The Avox looked to Haymitch who quietly shook his head. “Let’s start with crackers and work up to the rest. I think you’ve had enough alcohol this morning.”

“Amitch Habernathy! Who are you to tell me what I can and cannot have!”

“Sweetheart, I’m just trying to help.” He went the long way around the rug to avoid stepping on shards of broken glass, and he sat beside her on the sofa.

Through worn layers of makeup, he couldn’t tell if her cheeks were pale or blazing. He raised his hand slowly to her forehead. She held her breath as he touched her. Her skin was clammy but held some warmth. “How many drinks have you had?”

The back of his hand still grazed her forehead as the answer barely escaped her throat, “I lost count.”

He assessed the pile of broken glass on the floor and believed it was enough to be concerned about her. Her body was slight under all those layers of clothes she wore. He’d stared at her enough to know it. Besides, she hadn’t eaten in a day and a half.

As he dropped his hand from her forehead, she caressed along his cheek, his jaw, his neck, then down the front of his rumpled T-shirt. “You’re so pretty,” she said.

She’d never touched him so personally. It almost scared the shit out of him because she felt so good. “I ain’t so pretty. You’re just drunk,” he reminded himself.

“I ain’t so drunk...”

Effie Trinket saying “ain’t” was drunk for sure, but he knew it would be pointless to argue with her.

The Avox brought Haymitch’s requested items in a bucket. They nodded to each other: Haymitch in appreciation, and the Avox in relief that Effie was no longer breaking champagne flutes.

“You’re pretty too,” she said to the Avox. All six of your eyes are pretty. But not quite as pretty as this guy.” Her palm still lingered on Haymitch’s chest, and she whispered to the Avox, “Have you seen him naked? Holy Mary Mother of God, he’s so fine!”

Haymitch wondered if and when Effie had actually seen him naked. He blacked out too often to know. “I don’t think any mothers of gods want to see me without any clothes. Let’s leave them out of this.” Making light of her comment was safer than picturing himself naked with Effie.

The Avox poured water into the plastic cup and left the crackers in the bag instead of laying them out on fine china. Haymitch waved him off with gratitude then handed her the cup of water. “Drink this slowly. It’ll help you sober up, and when you wake up later you’ll feel like a small train hit you instead of a big one.”

“I don’t want to be sober!” What she wanted was to forget all the death she’d witnessed that day, but she took the cup of water and drank anyway. Haymitch’s attentiveness was more intoxicating than the alcohol had been. “...Is this what it takes?”

“What? Water?”

“Me being drunk. Is this what it takes?...” For you to touch me, she didn’t say. She gripped his T-shirt.

“You’re not making sense, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me ‘sweetheart.’ It means you’re pissed off, or worse it means nothing. I’m more than nothing. I want to mean more than nothing!” She let go of his shirt and shoved him. “I don’t want to look at you.”

But her eyes were still on him. Like inlets of a wild sea, he could drown in them if he let himself. She’s even more insane drunk than sober. But he couldn’t look away from her regardless.

“I have to go.” Effie set the water cup down and stood up. The room started spinning, so she plopped back down. “...My shoes are broken. I can’t stand up because my shoes are broken!”

“Your shoes are fine, honey. Do you want to take them off?”

“I love these shoes. Can’t you understand? How can you be so blind not to see that I LOVE them?”

“Okay, they’re great shoes. Maybe they’ll work better if you have something to eat.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a couple of crackers, eating one and handing her the other. “Food will keep some of the alcohol that’s still in your stomach from getting into your bloodstream.”

As soon as Effie ate the cracker, her long-empty stomach craved more. She took the bag from Haymitch and popped a handful into her mouth.

“Go slowly,” he said, “Like with the water.”

“Stop interfering!”

“Fine!” He sat back on the couch and folded his arms behind his head. “Do whatever you want.”

As she chewed the crackers, she bent forward to unstrap her shoes. Using his foot, he slid the table forward so she wouldn’t bang her head on it. She didn’t seem to notice his ‘interference.’

With a bit of food in her stomach and the high heels off her feet, she stood up and managed to remain standing even as the room spun. Haymitch put a leg up on the table, barricading her from walking in the direction of smashed glass. With an unsteady gait, she took the long way around the room. He followed her with the bucket of crackers and water.

As she wobbled through the living room, she unzipped her dress. “Is it hot in here? Or is it just me?”

“It’s definitely you.”

By the time she got to the hallway, she’d slipped the sleeves down her arms, and the dress spilled onto the floor in a puddle of chiffon.

His jaw dropped as she stood there in a baby blue corset, matching panties, and lace trimmed thigh high stockings. “...Holy Mary Mother of God.”

“I thought you said we were leaving mothers of gods out of this.”

“You changed my mind.”

“Oh...” Her stomach lurched, and she felt its contents pushing up against her esophagus. Shit. Throwing up was one thing that annoyed Effie more than bad manners. She commanded her stomach to settle down, but the will of her body to get rid of those last few mimosas and that large handful of crackers was more powerful.

She rushed to her bathroom, and vomited in the toilet. She crouched there in stillness while her guts churned inside.

Haymitch knelt behind her. “I’m right here, honey.” He touched her head gently and gathered her hair up into his hands. He’d never touched it before. Each strand was light and soft like a feather. Why she’d want to cover up this delicacy with wigs, he had no idea.

She threw up several more times until her stomach was empty. By then she was crying. He stroked her hair, feeling dangerously close to the brink of something inescapable. “How about I get you some water and help you into bed, okay?”

She nodded almost imperceptibly, completely defeated. “Everything’s spinning.”

“Put your arms around my neck.”

She did what he requested. He picked her up off the floor and carried her to the edge of her bed. She was very drunk but not unaware of the sensation of his arms. Being there felt warm and safe and insanely good. When he let go, she didn’t like the absence. She cried some more, unable to contain the tears, emptying the contents of her heart as it had been with her stomach.

He poured her another cup of water and sat beside her, drawing small circles on her back while she sipped slowly. “The bucket’s here if you need to throw up again. I know you’re dizzy.”

She shivered. When those shudders turned to shakes, he knew it would be best to get her warm. “When you’re ready, let’s get you under the covers.”

“My corset...” Her throat hurt to talk. “Will you help me loosen it so I can take it off?”

Haymitch had loosened a fair number of corsets in the past twenty years. He didn’t know why he was so affected by this raw and vulnerable version of Effie. His hands trembled untying the laces at her back. He stopped when the corset was loose enough for her to unhook in front. If she couldn’t manage the hooks, then it would be staying on, because if he took off her corset there was no way in hell he’d be able to stop there, not with the way he was feeling.

“What do you need? A shirt? The robe on the hook in the bathroom?”

“The robe is fine,” she whispered.

He stepped away to get it for her, and when he came back, the corset had slipped several inches. There was no avoiding a view of her breasts, and he was only willing to be honorable to a certain extent. He was going to look for as long as she, drunk or not, would let him look.

She was refreshingly different than the woman he’d met yesterday in passing. Effie’s lingerie and the other’s hair were similar shades of blue, and maybe that’s why he thought of the comparison just then. Effie’s breasts were small enough to fit fully in his hands. They were firm from the fastidious care she gave her body, and he vowed right then to never taunt her again about those efforts. Her nipples were pink and upturned. She must be nearly 30, but her breasts probably hadn’t dropped a centimeter from where they’d been at 18. His mouth watered just looking at her.

When he glanced up at her eyes, they were on his, watching him watch her. He didn’t know whether her lack of embarrassment came from pride in her body or her altered brain state. Maybe he’d find out another time, or maybe this would be the only time he’d ever see her breasts bare. Either way, this had to be enough for now because she was still shivering.

He sat behind her and helped her into the robe. She fumbled with the corset hooks until the garment fell away. She tied the robe closed then peeled off her stockings. Bending forward made her more dizzy, so she sipped more water and ate a cracker before sliding under the covers.

Haymitch propped pillows behind and in front of her to keep her lying on her side. Then he lay facing her. He stayed on top of the covers because to climb inside with her, especially now, would be as much folly as unhooking her corset would have been.

Her eyelids were heavy.

“I’m gonna be here if you need anything. I’m gonna wake you up several times the first hour, then maybe once each hour after that. I’m warning you, so hopefully you won’t be as pissed at me. I know you’re tired, honey, but you drank a lot on an empty stomach, and your body has to process it. Throwing some up helped, but the alcohol in your blood could still rise for a while as you sleep. I wanna make sure you’re okay.”

He thought of the thousands of times he’d subjected himself to the risk and certainty of alcohol poisoning. None of those times mattered to him because that was his life. But this was Effie, and for whatever reasons, her staying alive mattered a hell of a lot more to him than he would have expected.

As she dozed off, he listened to make sure her breathing was regular.

The first time he woke her, she hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep. She touched his face the same as before. “Sometimes I feel like my heart’s going to burst. You know?”

He really didn’t know what she meant by that, but he knew from personal experience that drunk people rarely make sense, even to themselves. He checked her pulse at her wrist. “You’re heart’s gonna be fine.”

When he withdrew his hand she said, “Don’t. Don’t let go.” She fell asleep again with him lightly holding her hand.

The second time he woke her, she teased, “I finally got you in my bed.”

“Finally?? I don’t remember you ever trying.”

“Trying appears differently to different people.”

The third time he woke her, she said, “I want to kiss you.”

“Another time,” he assured her, “When you’re gonna remember it.”

“I’ll remember it now.”

“I don’t think so, and I’m not willing to risk it. Someday when I kiss you, you’re for damn sure gonna remember it.”

The fourth time he woke her, she said, “You’re getting on that train tomorrow, and I hate it. Every time it takes you away from me, I hate it more.”

He was afraid of what she might say next. Soon she was going to forget this conversation, and that reality was a mixture of relief and agitation. Because he wasn’t going to forget.

The fifth time he woke her, she asked, “Why do you keep waking me up?” The bubble had burst.

The sixth time, she pulled her hand away. “Haymitch! Quit waking me up!”

The seventh time was an hour later. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Making sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine.”

He lay in bed with her until noon, listening to her normal, even breathing and periodically checking the temperature of her skin with the back of his hand. He didn’t wake her again — because he didn’t want to hear her tell him to leave.

She woke up in the afternoon alone. Her head was throbbing, and the daylight hurt her eyes. She dragged herself out of bed, pulled herself together, and put on a pair of dark glasses.

The dress and corset she’d worn the day before were laying at the foot of the bed. Why didn’t I hang them up? She did so belatedly. I must have been exhausted last night. She’d worked the floor until early morning, making connections, trying to help escorts and mentors from other districts secure sponsors.

She passed through the living room and saw her wig on the couch and her shoes on the rug. Did I take those off here before bed? I can’t remember. I must have had too many drinks. That would explain the headache. She gathered them up and returned them to her room.

Haymitch was eating in the dining room. The Avoxes had laid out a full spread. “How are you feeling?” he asked her.

“Like I was hit by a train.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes. My stomach hurts, but yes.”

“Eat a bit then. It should help.”

She sat down, and looked awhile at Haymitch’s eyes. Almost remembering... something. She took off her dark glasses and looked again.

“I think I had a dream about you last night.”

“You’re dreaming about me, eh?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” Still, something danced along the edges of her memory. It was almost... beautiful.

Haymitch smirked like he knew a secret. “What do you remember about the dream?” he asked.

“I licked my lips...” I wanted to kiss you. DID I kiss you? “...And you touched my forehead the way my mother used to when I was sick.” I wanted to touch you too... your face, your neck, your chest. DID I touch you?

“So, in your dream I was your mother?” He teased.

“No!”

“...Holy Mary Mother of God, no?” His grin was big enough now to show the gap between his teeth.

It was rare to see him gleeful. Effie loved it, but... “Wait. Those words were part of the dream somehow. Did I say them or did you?”

“Maybe we both did.”

She eyed him suspiciously. The dream had been sensual, erotic at times. I took off my clothes.. Or did you? You carried me to bed. Did we sleep together? Did we...

“You touched my hair.”

“It’s soft like feathers.”

“In the dream?”

“Sure. Why not.”

She recalled confessions of a bursting heart and wanting him...

Effie’s heart was racing now. She pushed her chair away from the table, stepped into the kitchen and started opening cabinets. To the Avoxes she questioned, “Where are all the champagne flutes?”

Of course they couldn’t answer. Confusion spread across her face. “Haymitch?...”

“You smashed ‘em up real good, honey. Like cannon fire.”

Honey? “In the dream?”

“Nope. On the living room floor.”

“What happened last night?”

“Last night I was asleep.”

“Then what happened this morning?”

Haymitch took his time before answering.

“I demand to know what happened between us this morning!”

“You were drunk. I took care of you.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s ALL?! You try taking care of somebody who’s drunk. It ain’t easy.”

She dropped back into her chair with chagrin. “I feel like I should thank you.”

“You already did.”

“Did I?”

“Yeah. You showed me your breasts.”

“What?” Effie’s face flushed pink all the way through her makeup.

“I figure we’re almost even now, since apparently you’ve already seen me naked.”

“What?! How do you know that?”

“You told my friend here early this morning.” He looked to the red-clad Avox for confirmation. “Right?” The man shrugged his shoulders, and quickly escaped to busy himself in the kitchen. “I recall your words were, ‘Have you seen him naked? Holy Mary Mother of God, he’s so fine.’”

Effie pressed her palms to her cheeks to try to temper the blood rushing there. “So THIS is what mortification feels like.”

“You’ve got nothin’ to be mortified about. You think I’m fine, and I think you’re just about the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” You make me want to do things to you that I’m terrified and thrilled to think about. “See? We’re even.”

“Did you sleep with me?”

“I watched you sleep to make sure you stayed alive.”

The way he said it, all of it, set something warm into motion. It buzzed along her spine and down her arms. The sensation throbbed in her fingers. She felt it pulling her to hold his hand, but other forces kept her frozen. Just reach across the table and hold his hand! Why is that so intimidating?

Full of uncertainty she asked, “What’s going to happen?”

“I’ll get on the train.”

“Haymitch... when you do, I’m going to hate it.”

“...I know.”

[litniche]

Love Will Find a Way

Smutty mcsmut time (mature/explicit content warning)

Dani x Jamie fic

Read it on ao3

CHAPTER 4

Hannah and Owen had greeted Jamie and Dani with their new Parisian habit of kissing both cheeks. Two minutes in, they were fumbling with excuses to make themselves scarce. Owen said something about having errands to run for his restaurant and Hannah mentioned a friend needing her. They promised they’d be available for a long brunch the next day as they waved and smirked on their way out the door. 

“That obvious?” Jamie asked, rubbing her arm and then scratching her head in a show of embarrassment. 

Dani couldn’t have cared less. Instead of answering, she turned toward Jamie and held both of her arms for a moment before letting herself fall forward into a much-awaited kiss. It was like coming up for air without having realized you’d been drowning. Jamie’s lips were so so soft against her own. She traced the woman’s bottom lip with her tongue while encouraging the gardener to wrap her arms around her back to hold her closer. Jamie obliged. She let her tongue dance furiously with Dani’s, making the au pair’s head spin in delight. Somewhere in the fog that had become her thoughts, Dani realized Jamie was pushing them back toward the small couch in the center of the room. 

“No,” Dani said, out of breath. 

Jamie stopped immediately and broke the kiss. “Everything all right?” she asked. Her eyes, though heavily dilated, were primarily concerned as they scanned Dani’s face. Her brows scrunched in worry and her grip loosened.

“Yes,” Dani smiled and let her forehead touch Jamie’s. “I just mean, let’s go to the bedroom.”

“Oh,” Jamie said in a hushed tone. Her eyes drifted to Dani’s lips. “Thought you’d never ask, Poppins.”

“Liar,” Dani teased. 

Jamie smacked Dani’s rear playfully in retaliation before bending at the knee to lift Dani onto her hips. Dani yelped and laughed in surprise. She didn’t know where Jamie hid all her strength in that wiry frame, but as she walked them toward the guest room, she was profoundly thankful for it. They giggled as Dani fumbled to open the door behind her without breaking their kiss. Jamie kicked the door shut before walking them to the bed and dropping them both onto it. 

“Oof!” Dani groaned with a laugh. 

“Not my most graceful moment, but give a girl a break. I don’t know the room and it’s been a minute as you Yanks say,” Jamie joked. 

Lifting her arms to wrap around Jamie’s neck, Dani sighed contentedly. They shifted so that her head rested on a pillow and Jamie’s form was pressed against hers. She cupped Jamie’s face in her palms, worshiping the lips and tongue that quickly met hers. This woman made her feel more drunk than a bottle of wine. She felt Jamie kicking off her shoes and did the same. Jamie sat up on her knees, straddling Dani, and the au pair thanked her lucky stars that Jamie had decided to wear a button-up blouse today. It meant she could carefully, slowly unveil Jamie’s skin an inch at a time. She marvelled at the sight of her fiancée’s flat stomach, letting her fingers trace their way up to the contrasting curves of Jamie’s breasts in a pretty blue bra. “May I?” she asked with a finger tracing the lace as she sat up. 

“No need to ask tonight, love,” Jamie assured her. She guided Dani’s hands to her back until Dani felt the clasps and undid them. 

The bra fell easily and Dani couldn’t help but stare. “You’re so beautiful,” she said, knowing it might sound cheesy, but uncaring, because it was true. 

Jamie lifted each of Dani’s hands to a breast in response. “Show me,” she said, her voice low.

After an eager nod and a somewhat frantic switch of their positions, Dani did just that. She started with Jamie’s lips, but moved quickly to her perfect jawline before savoring the nape of her neck. All the while, her leg served as purchase for Jamie as their bodies rocked into each other in waves. As Jamie’s fingertips dug into her back, Dani marked the gardener’s shoulder with a bruising, sucking kiss. No one would likely ever see the mark, but Dani liked knowing it was there--that there was a physical trace of her that Jamie would take back to the states with her. 

Hands still cupping perfect breasts, she dipped to take one of their peaks into her mouth. Jamie moaned and squirmed beneath her. “Dani,” she whispered, and in it, there was delicious desperation--a plea. 

Dani wasn’t the sort to be asked twice, especially when it came to Jamie. She couldn’t help the moan that escaped her as her lips burned a trail down Jamie’s stomach to the apex of a hip. In a brief pause, she undid the button of the woman’s trousers and unzipped them. Jamie lifted her hips for her as Dani removed the boundaries between them, then did the same for herself. 

“I missed you so much,” Jamie said when Dani let their bodies be pressed together once more, lingering in a kiss. 

“I missed you, too,” she said. She felt a wave of peace at the feeling of Jamie’s naked skin against hers. There was no more distance, no more miles and miles of ocean, and for the rest of their time together, she didn’t want a single millimeter between them. “I missed you so fucking much.” 

Jamie’s brows twitched in surprise at the harsh wording, but she grinned. Apparently she’d liked that. Dani made a mental note. “Let me show you,” she said, and returned to following her earlier trail to Jamie’s center. 

The taste of her was the same, and it was as if time had stopped and collapsed in on itself at once. It had been so stupidly long, but it was as if no time had passed. Jamie gripped the sheets as she arched into her and asked for more. Dani let herself drown in the moment: it was all here and now, but also a return to before, as well as a promise of thereafter. It was her, it was Jamie, it was them, together.

Dani pressed down on Jamie’s hips as the gardener arched further and further into her mouth. Her breathing became rushed and punctuated with high-pitched moans among whispers of Dani’s name. She was already so close. No matter. Dani was determined that this would only be her first. She would not let Jamie leave this side of the world again without knowing just how much she’d been missed. Her tongue being too occupied to say the words at the moment, she let its movements say them for her. I love you. I fucking adore you. 

When Jamie asked for more still, Dani let a finger test her entrance. When Jamie’s hips angled in invitation, she slipped inside. She closed her eyes as they rolled back with the ecstasy of knowing that the sounds--the gasps and the moans--coming from Jamie were because of her. Another finger joined her first and she found herself moaning with Jamie as the gardener climbed toward the edge. 

“You,” Jamie said between breaths. She gripped Dani’s unoccupied hand on Jamie’s hip before nudging it down. 

Dani’s heart fluttered and her stomach flipped, knowing what Jamie wanted. She let her hand travel down between her own legs. She synced her rhythm there with the flicks of her tongue and the movement of her fingers inside Jamie. It didn’t take long to catch up. The gardener watched her and evidently, it was her undoing. She gripped the sheets until her knuckles became white. Her back arched and her hips surged. She told Dani not to stop, and Dani felt herself fall over the edge along with her as she made a silent vow: Never. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through Dani, and she felt Jamie pulsing with the same ecstasy. Every exhale from Jamie’s lips carried her name.  

They panted together, spent for the moment. Jamie pulled on Dani’s shoulder in a silent request for Dani to join her further up the bed. She collapsed next to Jamie, letting the woman wrap her arms and legs around her as she laid her head on Dani’s chest. The au pair massaged the base of the gardener’s scalp as she held her close and kissed the top of her head, whispering “I love you,” over and over again. 

They let the sky fade to night and the lights of the city emerge. At peace in each other’s arms, they remapped each other’s bodies with new memories. Well after they heard Hannah and Owen return, they quietly continued to let their bodies remember how well they moved together, losing count of the number of times they collapsed in bliss. Eventually, after Jamie’s hand muffled one of Dani’s moans as the morning’s light threatened to creep in, they curled into each other and sated sleep found them. 

****

Dani stretched as she awoke, each ache a pleasant reminder of the night’s activities. She placed a kiss on Jamie’s shoulder as she reached over the gardener to grab her phone on the nightstand. Her eyes bugged at the late hour. “We can’t call it brunch much longer,” she mumbled.

“Hmm?” Jamie hummed. 

A smile immediately spread across Dani’s lips. She sidled back behind Jamie, tugging herself closer as she kissed between her shoulder blades. “We should probably join the land of the living,” she said between each kiss. 

Jamie merely grunted and Dani couldn’t help but display a smug grin. The gardener usually hated sleeping in too late, but apparently last night had tired her out. 

She bit her lip as she considered a different approach. 

The au pair’s hand wove to tuck itself between Jamie’s breasts. She massaged them gently before letting the tip of her fingers trace down to Jamie’s navel and lower still, eliciting a hitch of Jamie’s breath,. She paused when Jamie’s pressed-together thighs blocked her way, diverting her course so that her nails grazed Jamie’s hips. She slid a knee between Jamie’s thighs, gaining access to her from behind.  

After a stifled gasp into the mattress, Jamie’s hips rolled into the movement of Dani’s hand. The gardener laced her fingers into Dani’s other hand, tucked beneath her pillow. “‘Morning, Poppins,” she managed. “If you’d planned on leaving this bed, you have an odd way of going about it.”

“I have mixed feelings on the subject,” Dani chuckled as she nibbled Jamie’s shoulder. 

The gardener cleared her throat as if to say something, but at that moment, Dani had decided to enter her. Jamie cursed and Dani somehow thought it was the most beautiful four-letter word she’d ever heard. Dani whispered ‘you’re beautiful’s and ‘I love yous’ with each thrust, sprinkling kisses on the gardener’s shoulders, until Jamie grabbed their shared pillow to muffle her climax. 

Dani felt drunk with awe. She rolled her hips into Jamie’s with every pulsing aftershock. Her breathing was labored as she eased her fingers out. The brunette grunted a protest, making Dani chuckle noiselessly. “We really should get up.”

“You started it,” Jamie grumbled. 

“Are you complaining?” Dani teased.

Jamie reached behind herself to pull Dani’s hips into her backside. “Only if I can’t return the favor.”

“There’ll be other times,” Dani said. 

“That’s my line.”

“Ah, how the tables have turned,” Dani smirked. “Though, I was thinking...shower?”

Jamie turned, finally facing Dani, and as a result, stole her breath away. The sight of her, flushed and her hair mussed about, was far too tantalizing.

“You’re right,” Jamie said with a stretch. “We probably do smell like, well, sex,” she admitted matter-of-factly. She leaned forward to peck Dani’s lips. “That is, if I can manage to get there. I don’t think my legs work anymore.” 

“I’m very not sorry,” Dani said, nuzzling Jamie’s nose against her own. She pulled at the back of Jamie’s knee to wrap a leg around her waist. They grinned at each other until, like magnets inevitably attracted to each other, their lips met. The kiss was gentle and sweet, lacking the urgency of their first kisses from the night before. 

All at once and all too soon, the outside world came a-knocking. “Ladies?” Hannah asked as her knuckles rapped against the door. “Owen says if you make his brunch grow any colder, you’re … do I really have to say it?”

They heard a low, muffled voice, sounding like an affirmation belonging to Owen.

Hannah sighed. “He says you’re bacon his heart. There. I said it, which means if they don’t answer, you��re the one that has to go in there.” 

“Just a tick!” Jamie called. “Give us…?” she looked at Dani in question. 

“Oh, I won’t take long, if that’s what you’re asking,” Dani purred with a raised eyebrow. 

“Err-” Jamie’s voice cracked. 

Dani laughed. Jamie could be incredibly smooth, but Dani knew all the tricks to undo her. 

Jamie cleared her throat and tried again. “Give us about ten, maybe fifteen, minutes? We’ll take a quick rinse.” 

They heard Hannah chuckle outside the door. “Of course, dears.”

“Ten minutes?” Dani asked. 

“You said you wouldn’t take long.” 

“To get off, not to shower,” Dani laughed. 

Jamie’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Blimey, Poppins, you’ll be the death of me. Besides,” she regained some of her composure. “Can’t it be both?” NOTE Thanks for reading! Reblogs or comments super appreciated!