#they say to this man in his early thirties okay first you’re gonna play an 18 year old. then later we see him at 38 (MINIMUM).

[kenisle]

so funny how in the first season of the witcher which spans decades has so many major characters that are basically immortal and don’t age… except for one, the totally normal human bard who looks exactly the same in his last appearance of the season as he did in his first twenty years prior for absolutely no reason. like did they just forget or

[karatekels]

Hello:) first time with an ask. I have to preface by saying I absolutely love your account and your fics and just everything about what you've created ❤️❤️ may I ask, can you write something about CK Terry falling for a 30 something young woman in an adult class? She's learning and new to karate, yet Terry sees potential and asks if she'd like to grab dinner (or have his chef cook for them), then maybe "train" a little in his private dojo 😉

Thank you so much for your comments – they make my heart sing and make me blush horribly. I’m happy to write this for you – enjoy! ❤️

Shoutout to @terrysilv for helping me brainstorm some ideas for this!

---

Legacy

---

“Asa!” you cry out, the kiai escaping your lips in a short grunt as you lay into the punching bag with your fists and feet, the bag supported by your sparring partner. “Ya! Isa!”

“Okay okay!” your partner exclaims from behind the bag after awhile. “Jesus Y/N, you’re gonna knock me on my ass – can we take a break?”

Rolling your eyes, you step away from the bag, helping the man up before moving to your bag to get a drink of water. You were here to put the work in, and intended to do so the entire time, not wanting to waste even a minute.

You had been training with the Cobra Kai dojo for a few months now, and had gotten good; very good. You knew you were rather late to the game, starting to learn karate in your early thirties, but you were determined to prove yourself. You had quickly exceeded the introductory levels of the adult classes, and had worked your way up to the top of the expert class as well, having impressed the senseis of the dojo the whole way.

You didn’t like doing anything halfway – if you were going to learn karate, you were going to do it right, and not stop until you had perfected your skills.

The owner of the dojo, Sensei Terry Silver, walks past you, moving to snap at another pair of students whose form had gotten sloppy. That right there was another reason to do the best you could during these lessons; that man was likely twice your age, and incredibly fit, still able to instill fear in anyone he came across. You knew he was the best in the Valley, and you wanted to get to that level yourself. You wanted to be respected, you wanted to be able to take care of yourself, and karate was the perfect avenue to get you there.

Returning to your punching bag, your partner represses a sigh, bracing himself against the bag once more.

--- Terry’s POV ---

Terry glides past you, his feet silent on the training mats as he moves to scold a pair of students who were goofing off yet again. Really, how the majority of these people were accepted into the expert-level class baffled him. He’d need to talk to Kim at some point about her selection process.

There was, however, one student in particular that had been able to exceed his expectations…

He circles the dojo discreetly, positioning himself so that he could watch you, seeing you approach the punching bag for another round, fire in your eyes. Your form was perfect, and you were so graceful in your movements he found himself hypnotized.

You had been dedicated to your training since day one; he couldn’t think of anyone (other than himself, of course), who so fully encapsulated the 3 D’s: desire, devotion, discipline. He had taken notice of your beauty immediately, from the moment you entered the expert class, but had dismissed his attraction immediately. He didn’t sleep with students, and he didn’t date students, the work and romance spheres of his life remaining separate by his design.

He'd never had an issue abiding by that rule, until you’d shown up.

The better you got, the harder you trained, the more you wore down his resolve without you even realizing it. You had captivated him, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had fallen for anyone this hard. He had tried not to let his attraction for you interfere with his work – if you took offence and left, he would lose his only means of seeing you.

No, he had to play this perfectly, find an opportunity to test the waters with you, find out where you stood. Something away from here, away from everyone else, where he could turn on the charm and bring you around to his way of thinking. He was now a man past middle age; he didn’t have time to waste.

He’d have you eventually.

---

Terry waits until almost everyone else has left the dojo before approaching you. Yet another benefit to your dedication to karate: you were always the first to arrive and the last to leave. He lets you finish your cool down stretches, then walks over to you.

“Great work today, Y/N,” he compliments, savouring your pleased smile at his praise. You valued his approval; that was something, at least.

“Thank you, Sensei,” you reply, moving to retrieve your water. He follows smoothly behind you, not done with you yet.

“You’ve really improved during your time here,” he continues, determined to draw you into a conversation. “What’s driving you?”

You look over at him as you put your shoes and socks back on, considering the question. You were so contemplative, the type of person that thought things through, and he loved that about you. Everyone seemed so hasty these days, rushing headlong into situations without giving them thought, and it frustrated him to no end.

“I don’t like to do anything halfway,” you say after awhile. “If I’m going to do something, I want to do the best. I want to be the best,” you add, getting more passionate as you speak to him. He finds himself transfixed.

“I see the respect that you command around here, and I’m not a big tall guy like you, and I may never be a sensei, but that’s something I want,” you confess, looking up at him with that same fire in your eyes.

You were envious of him? You looked up to him? He could work with that.

“How do I become the best, Sensei Silver? What can I do next?”

Terry thinks about how to play this. Part of him did truly want to help you succeed; Cobra Kai was his legacy, and you were now not just part of that, but one of his shining stars. The greedy, primal part of him wants to promise you the best training money could buy if you would only become his. He settles for something in the middle.

“This dojo is really meant to cater to a group, and the lowest common denominator, even in the expert class. I don’t know if you can get the full attention that you deserve…” he begins, hesitating briefly, as though considering something, but he’s already finalized the plan in his mind.

“If you’d like, I could offer you private lessons at my personal dojo, where I could focus solely on you,” he offers, ever the generous benefactor. As if you weren’t already the centre of his attention every time you walked into the same room as him. Your eyes go wide, shining with delight at the thought.

“Wow, that would be incredible,” you breathe, and he feels his cock stir against his thigh at your excitement. While your interest wasn’t out of desire for him, it was about spending time alone with him, and that was enough to have his mind racing. Picturing you coming to his home with him had him nearly giddy.

“I just don’t think I could afford private lessons, Sensei Silver…” you say, and he resists the urge to scoff. Screw the money. This was about you, getting you, having you alone… but he had to be careful. You were fiercely independent, and proud, and while he admired and respected those traits in you he also knew to be wary of upsetting them.

“I would be happy to charge the same rate as you’re currently paying for the expert class,” he offers. “The success of my students is my main objective here with Cobra Kai. You are easily one of our best, and have clearly outgrown the expert class.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, clearly not wanting to take advantage of him, and he bites his tongue to keep from beaming at the thought.

“It would be an honour, Y/N.”

The grateful smile you level him with has his heart pounding in his chest. Were you really so oblivious about the effect that you had on him, on everyone in any room you were in?

“Thank you, Sensei. I won’t let you down.” He plans on taking that promise to its absolute limit.

“One stipulation, Y/N, if you don’t mind,” he presses, giving you a slight smile. You cock your head at him, waiting, though he gets the sense that you’ll accommodate anything he asks for.

“Allow me to speak with you once beforehand, to get a better sense of your goals and to develop a training regimen. Perhaps over dinner?”

Christ, when was the last time he had felt nervous about anything?

You blink, seemingly speechless. Terry thinks he detects the faintest hint of a blush on your cheeks, but doesn’t want to give himself too much credit.

“You want to take me to dinner?” you ask, tone slightly incredulous.

“I could ask my personal chef to cook us a meal. It would give you a chance to see the dojo before we get started.” He pointedly doesn’t address your shock at him asking you out, hoping to subtly reframe the evening as a purely professional one; he can’t have you getting cold feet, not now. He just had to get you there, get you alone, and he could win you over. The thought of training you in a dozen other things before you even get started on karate dances through his mind, and he suppresses a groan. It wouldn’t do to lose focus now; you always kept him on his toes.

“Could…could I go home and change first?” you ask, looking down at your gi. It’s strange, seeing this more hesitant, shy side of you, but he finds that he enjoys it just as much as your typical fierce attitude. And, more importantly, this wasn’t a no.

“Of course. I can have a driver pick you up in a few hours – my home is rather difficult to find if you don’t know where to look.” He knows he’s laying it on thick with the show of wealth, but he can’t contain his excitement; if he has his way, he’ll be spoiling you for the rest of his life and beyond.

“Oh, that’s… wow, alright. I guess being the best student has its perks, huh?” you joke, and he smiles encouragingly at you. You scribble down your address – as if he didn’t already know it – on a piece of paper and hand it to him.

“I’ll see you in a few hours, then?” you say hesitantly, and he’s fully enjoying your nerves, now.

“I’ll see you then, Y/N,” he replies, trying to keep the purr from his voice. You give him a shy smile as you throw your bag over your shoulder, exiting the dojo and missing the pleased grin he directs at the back of your head. Having watched you leave, Terry immediately moves to collect his own things and head home.

There was much to prepare for.

--- Reader’s POV ---

The car finally breaks through the treeline after what feels like ages, driving smoothly up to a gorgeous estate. You knew that Mr. Silver was very well-off, but to live in a place like this… then again, he was offering to train you in his private dojo, so perhaps this shouldn’t be so surprising to you.

Looking down at your hands, twisting around themselves in your lap, you hope that you’ve dressed appropriately for the evening. What, exactly, was one meant to wear to a private dinner at your sensei’s gigantic house to discuss karate? You had settled on a simple summer dress, the green complimenting your hair and skin tone wonderfully, and a pair of wedges, keeping your hair down in loose waves and your makeup simple.

The driver stops the car – having a driver, that was strange for you as well – and you nervously hop out before he can come around and open your door for you. You weren’t the Queen of England, you could get out of a vehicle on your own. He guides you up to the front door, ringing the bell, then nods to you and turns to, presumably, go park the car.

“Thank you!” you call after him, not wanting to be rude, and then you hear the door open behind you. Turning, you see an older woman at the door, smiling warmly at you.

“Ah, Miss L/N. Please come in, and I’ll take you to Mr. Silv –”

“No need, Janet, thank you. I’ll take it from here.”

Mr. Silver approaches from a room off to the left, looking decidedly more relaxed in a pair of tan slacks, a white button-up shirt and a royal blue blazer, his hair out of its signature ponytail and framing his face. You hadn’t thought it was possible for someone to appear so at home in a place as luxurious as this, but he does, and you’re happy for him. Hopefully, these private lessons from him would help you become even half as successful as your sensei.

“Welcome to my home, Y/N. I’m glad you could make it,” he greets you warmly, and you smile at him. You would not ruin this opportunity for yourself, even if you were a bit nervous about how to behave in this situation.

“Thank you, sensei, and thank you again for sending someone to pick me up,” you reply graciously.

“Sensei is reserved for training, Y/N. Please, call me Terry outside of the dojo.”

You nod your head in acknowledgement, hoping to keep things straight in your head. You didn’t often have relationships with people that transcended more than one social circle; it complicated things, made them messy as the lines blurred. You didn’t think that that would happen with Terry – he was on such a different level from you in every way – but you wanted to be aware of the possibility.

“Thank you, Terry. It’s so… strange, seeing you outside of the dojo.” You want to acknowledge the difference in the setting, but think that you may have come across a bit standoffish, and try to recover. “I’m so used to the ponytail,” you joke, gesturing to his hair, and his lips twitch in amusement.

“Yes, well it doesn’t get in the way when I’m just relaxing at home. You look lovely,” he compliments, approaching you with his hands in his pockets. “I’ve just spoken with the chef, and we have a half hour before dinner. Would you like to see the dojo now, or can I offer you a drink?”

You pause to consider this, worrying your lower lip between your teeth. You didn’t want to refuse his hospitality and make it seem like you were only here for the training he would offer you by wanting to get right into the dojo, and perhaps a drink or two would help you loosen up…

“A drink would be lovely, Terry, thank you.” He smiles, gesturing down the hall with an arm, and you follow him, taking in each new room with a sense of wonder. It was all warm, comfortable, relaxed… not at all what you would have expected from viewing just the exterior of the house.

Eventually, he leads you into a parlour with a collection of liquor bottles, one wall made completely of glass, looking out onto a large balcony and the gardens below. Smiling at the dwindling sunlight streaming in through the windows, you find yourself briefly distracted.

“Wine?” Terry asks, having selected a bottle of red. You nod to him, and he seems to take a long moment to look at you before pouring two glasses. Bringing both with him, he hands you a glass, which you accept gratefully, thanking him quietly.

“Come on, I’ll show you outside,” he says, a knowing tone in his voice. He was so good at reading people, anticipating their thoughts and actions; you supposed it was a necessary skill to have, both for teaching and for karate. You smile, and follow him to the door leading out to the balcony, walking up to the balustrade to get a full view of gardens below. They were massive, seeming to stretch out forever, and were so lush and full. You sigh longingly as you take in the view.

“You get to come home to this every day?” you ask, awe evident in your tone. “It’s incredible!”

“It’s refreshing to see someone appreciate it,” Terry replies, coming to stand beside you. “I think I’ve come to take it for granted.”

“I don’t think I could ever get used to this…” you murmur. Terry is quiet, seeming content to let you take in your surroundings, the two of you drinking your wine in a comfortable silence. After awhile, a member of the staff finds the pair of you out on the balcony to inform you that dinner is ready. Following him through more spacious rooms of the home with Terry, you find yourself feeling far more comfortable than you had when you had first arrived, and couldn’t attribute it all to the wine.

--- Terry’s POV ---

The evening had been very successful so far, Terry thinks to himself as he surveys you from across the table. He can’t remember the last time he’s shared a meal with someone in his own home when it wasn’t for some business matter or another, and he finds that he has missed it.

He had been awestruck upon first seeing you at his front door; having never seen you in anything other than your gi, you were particularly striking in your soft green dress, your hair flowing down your back. You had been clearly nervous at first – hell, he couldn’t judge you for it; he was nervous himself – but had adjusted quickly, and he found himself impressed by your tenacity.

The look on your face as you had taken in sight of the garden, the sunlight illuminating you, had briefly taken his breath away. You were radiant even without the sun’s glow, but in that moment you had looked so serene he had been positively enchanted by you. He hadn’t planned on taking you outside, but he couldn’t resist giving you exactly what you wanted. He could see that happening a lot with you, should things progress the way he intended for them to.

You had opened up more once you had moved inside, telling him about yourself and asking about him in return. Ordinarily, Terry was rather cautious – if not outright reluctant – to divulge personal information about himself, but he found it easy to open up to you.

Having asked you further about your motivations to study karate, you had become more animated in your responses, speaking about your desire to make something of yourself, and to leave a lasting mark on the world. Again, Terry finds himself recognizing the similarities between you, especially in how you saw the world and your respective places in it, and he finds himself in a difficult position.

What would be the greater legacy for him to leave behind: training you to be the best and being your mentor, or pursuing a relationship with you that would, if he had his way, last as long as you both should live? He finds himself wrestling with complicated feelings, wholly unaccustomed to trying to prioritize someone’s hopes and dreams over his own.

But he had sacrificed before; he could do it again, and being your mentor would most assuredly connect your names together in history. There was something beautiful, poetic even, about that, and it eliminated the possibility of rejection, of failure. Terry decides to shift his goals again; he’s put love on the backburner his entire life, and he can do it again, at least until he’s cemented himself as a keystone to your success. He would have something that tied the two of you together, at least, and perhaps that would be enough.

He can’t help but take in the way your eyes glimmer in the candlelight with a slight smile, ignoring the slight clenching of his heart. Let him do something good and selfless for once in his miserable life.

You both finish your meal, and he offers to show you the dojo, the excited smile you give him making him ache in a way he hadn’t experienced.

--- Reader’s POV ---

After several months of intensive training, you truly felt like you were on top of the world. You felt almost as tall as Terry, your confidence having reached new heights. Terry had been incredible, working with you as often and as hard as he had, like your success was intrinsically tied to his own. You had appreciated everything he had done, and was doing for you more than you could ever say.

Having finished your session for the day, you both step off the mat, moving to get water and take a brief rest before you went home for the day.

“So, what’s next, Terry?” you ask, always excited to learn more. Terry doesn’t respond, and after a moment you look over to him seated on the bench, radiating tension.

“You know, Y/N, I’m not sure if I have anything more to teach you,” he replies, his large body caved inward slightly, like he’s being crushed by some heavy weight. You had learned to read him somewhat in your time together, and think he’s disappointed.

“I’m sure that’s not true, Terry. I don’t think it’s possible for you to run out of knowledge,” you say, smiling encouragingly, but he scowls.

“Well, I have. This is over,” he says firmly, harshly. Some of his hair has come out of his ponytail, and he’s got a frustrated, defeated energy radiating off of him that you’re not sure what to make of.

You bite your lip, debating what to do. While you had definitely become more comfortable around Terry during this time together, you wouldn’t exactly call yourself his friend. What were the boundaries of this relationship after all of this? Should you give him space or offer to listen? Throwing caution to the wind, you decide on the latter.

“Will you tell me what’s really wrong?” you ask softly, sliding closer to him on the bench, trying to coax the truth out of him. He barks out a humourless laugh, throwing his head back, before he levels you with a serious, almost cold expression.

“It’s you.”

“I…what?” you ask, confused and hurt, and he seems to burst, leaping off the bench to his feet and whirling around to face you.

“It’s you!” he repeats, getting louder, and you’re not sure which emotions you detect in his voice, only that there are many of them and that they all seem to be entangled within one another.

“I am an old man, Y/N. I am old, and I am alone. I’d come to terms with that years ago, really I had,” he rambles, words flowing quickly from his lips without much thought. He was never like this; he was like you, looking before he leaped. What had happened?

“And then you walk into my dojo, and it’s like I’m seeing the sun rise for the first time.”

You stiffen, your eyes going wide, but he’s not even looking at you right now, pacing up and down the edge of the training mats like a caged animal.

“I thought I could be professional. I thought I could be your teacher, your mentor, and that that would be enough. Then, I thought up a dozen ways to try to win you over, to sweep you off your feet, to make you see… I’ve gone back and forth so many times, and every time you’ve done nothing but draw me in deeper. I’m trying to do what’s right, harder than I’ve ever bothered to try before, and now that’s it!” He turns suddenly to look at you, his eyes wide and searching, though for what you’re not sure.

“I’ve taught you everything I could, and now there’s nothing for you here anymore. Nothing to keep you here with me.”

He looks broken, and you’re stunned into silence by his revelation. Terry had feelings for you? The very idea seemed ridiculous. He was older, wealthy, successful, talented… you had never bothered to even consider him in that way; what would be the point, since it would never be reciprocated? Thinking about it now, though…

You had admired him from the moment you met him, respecting his dedication to his craft and his students. He had shown such wisdom in the dojo, and had fascinated you with his stories and experience. Over the past few months, you had become so comfortable with each other, and you had gotten to see his humour, his kind heart, his passion… And even you had recognized from the very beginning that he was incredibly attractive, especially for a man of his age, but again, you had pushed that kind of thinking out of your mind the second you accepted that it wouldn’t do anything for you but get you distracted.

He had been supportive, generous, shared his life and his home with you, and you had come to cherish the connection you had together. What was that if not love?

Looking over at him, where he had retaken his seat on the bench, slumped in a defeated position, it’s like you’re seeing him with fresh eyes. This man had loved you, presumably for quite awhile, and instead of acting on it had been nothing but professional, putting you and your needs above his own without you even realizing it. He had sacrificed so much, and even now was only upset that he had nothing else to offer? What a ludicrous notion. He had become your everything.

Getting up off the bench, you move silently to walk around in front of him, bending to his eye level. He doesn’t even seem to notice that you’re there, his eyes closed in defeat with his head in his hands, and now you feel like the idiot for not recognizing your own feelings sooner.

Tilting your head, you lean closer to him, pressing your lips to his softly.

He doesn’t respond for a moment, staying perfectly still, and you pull back a bit, looking at his face. His eyes flutter open, and he looks at you, confused.

“Why would you do that?” he demands, his voice low and hoarse. You nibble your lip nervously.

“To apologize, for not recognizing your feelings,” you say, and you think you see the light leave his eyes, pain evident on his features.

“And for not recognizing my own,” you add in a whisper. His gaze snaps back to yours, intense once more.

“What…?” is all he manages to get out in a choked voice.

“I never thought you would see me in that way, Terry, so I didn’t bother letting myself see you like that either. We’re from two different worlds, you could have anyone you wanted –”

“Not anyone,” he corrects pointedly, and you take a deep breath.

“Yes,” you counter, reaching out to take one of his hands in your own. “Anyone.”

He seems to freeze again, his eyes staring past you into the distance, into nothing, and you wait, knowing he needs a moment. Sure enough, his eyes soon snap back to yours, and he slowly stands up, closing the space between you with his large body so close to yours. He reaches up slowly, as though he doesn’t want to startle you, taking your face gently in both of his large, warm hands.

“You want me?” he whispers incredulously, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You swallow.

“I can’t believe I didn’t see it until now… Yes, Ter –”

Your confession is cut off suddenly as he pulls your face none-too-gently up to his, kissing you with a fierce joy that takes your breath away. His arms wrap around you, one at your waist and one around your upper back, hand tangled in your hair. You gasp into his mouth, hands coming up to clutch the top of his gi, pulling him down to you, overwhelmed by the desire that courses through you.

You could kick yourself for how stupid you’d been these past few months, wasting all this time together, but that would mean you would have to stop kissing him, and you’d already spent more than enough time doing that.

He is the one to break the kiss first, his blue eyes dark as he looks at you in his arms with thinly veiled wonder, and you feel your knees go weak. No one had ever looked at you like this before; you hadn’t thought that anyone ever would. You smile up at him shyly, your heart pounding in your chest. You can’t remember ever feeling this happy, this complete, standing in his arms.

“I adore you, Y/N,” he admits reverently, resting his forehead on yours. Tears spring to your eyes at his words, and he wipes them away gently with his thumb before you even realize they’re there. You let out a breathless laugh, hardly able to believe your ears, your heart singing.

“I love you, Terry,” you reply, and the smile that he gives you in return nearly brings tears to your eyes again. He scoops you up into his arms, sitting on the bench with you on his lap, kissing you soundly. You wrap your arms around his neck, toying with his hair, toes curling in delight. Gradually, you move to shift in his lap, straddling him, never breaking your kiss. His hands come around your hips, and you feel something primal course through you as you feel him getting hard against you.

He leans back from you, breaking the kiss again reluctantly, almost shyly.

“We don’t have to do this now, or here,” he tells you, considerate and gentlemanly as always, and you grin at him.

“It seems oddly appropriate though, doesn’t it?” you reply coyly, gazing at him with lust in your eyes. “And you’ve waited long enough, haven’t you, sensei?”

His eyes go nearly black in desire and he growls at you, taking your gi in his hands and somehow shredding the clothes off of you in his haste to get at you. You may have poked the bear a bit too much with that comment, you think to yourself as he tears your bra from your body, leaving you in only your underwear on his lap.

“I think I have more to teach you after all, my dear,” he purrs, his mouth closing around one of your nipples and making you moan, digging your nails into his scalp and clutching him to your chest.

“Please, Terry, show me everything,” you beg desperately, throwing your head back as he toys with you.

“Oh, I intend to,” he promises, picking you up and turning to deposit you on the bench, taking off his own gi. You find yourself licking your lips as he pushes his pants past his hips, whimpering as his cock is bared to you. Fuck, this man was gorgeous.

Trembling slightly, you come to stand on the bench, now almost the same height as him as you push your underwear down your legs. His arms come around you, hands gripping your butt firmly, and your knees nearly buckle, but he’s there, he’s everywhere, supporting your weight with his body.

You pull his hair out of its ponytail, tangling your fingers in it as you tug him closer to you.

“Take me, Terry. I need you,” you ask him breathlessly, staring into his eyes, reading the love in them and hoping that your own eyes reflect the same growing devotion.

Not hesitating, he takes you in his arms once more, your legs coming around his waist like they were always meant to be there, and he carries you over to the wall of the dojo, bracing you against it before gently lowering you onto his cock. You whimper as he enters you, and his eyes roll back in his head as he sheathes himself fully in your tight, wet heat.

“Oh God, Terry!” you groan, feeling so deliciously full of him, your nails digging into his back. Supporting you with his hands around your butt, he sets a slow pace of lifting you up off his cock before dropping you back down again. Slow and rough, it’s perfect, and you can’t get enough, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you moan.

“Fuck, you’re perfect, Y/N. I knew you would be,” he croons in your ear, and you’re again stunned as you recognize how long this man has desired you.

“Made for you, Terry, only you!” you cry out, lifting your head to capture your lips with his own again as you grind your hips against him, feeling deliciously sinful. The pace of his thrusts increases, as though he’s urgently needing to make you his, but you meant what you said. This man was it for you; there would be nobody else.

“Yesss,” he hisses against your lips. “My woman, my everything.” You both tighten your grip on one another at his words, like you’re wanting to claim the other even more. Your orgasms hit you at the same time, and you both cry out the other’s name in your ecstasy, your pace slowing until you’re both just wrapped up in one another. You realize you’re crying again, and he kisses your tears away as they fall.

Reluctantly, he lowers you to the ground, but keeps his arms wrapped around you, unwilling to let you go completely, and you share the sentiment, nuzzling into his chest.

“You have given me everything, my treasure,” he murmurs against your hair, kissing the top of your head, and you tilt your head up to look at him, still teary-eyed.

“So have you,” you admit with complete sincerity, and he smiles at you, stepping away to retrieve your clothes.

“Oh, you have no idea what I’ve got in store for you. We’ve only gotten started,” he promises, handing your underwear to you. He pulls the pants of his gi back on, but holds his top in his hands, taking in the scattered scraps of fabric that were your gi. Smiling at you, he approaches, wrapping his top around you and tying it to you, big enough on you to look like a full robe.

He ties the obi around your waist, taking in the kana on either end that read Sensei Silver. It seemed appropriate. He takes your hand and looks you over, hair mussed, face flushed, smiling brightly at him as you wore his gi, and feels like the luckiest man in the world.

“Come with me, my dear,” he purrs, leading you to the exit of the dojo. “We’ve got some planning to do.”

---

[erodasfishtacos]

~ MLB Curious Gazes ~

prompt: four different situations where people have run into or hung out with MLB!H - told from their perspective.

word: 6k +

warnings: language, mentions of sexual content

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-=-=-=-=-=-

The Doctor’s Office

Aubrey couldn’t believe her eyes as she sat in her uncomfortable, too small chair in the empty waiting room at the OBGYN office in the early hours of the morning. 

She was sitting alone with her baby boy sitting in his carrier on the floor - it was his nine month checkup and it was taking forever to be seen.

The woman was sitting, scrolling on her phone when out of her peripheral she saw an extremely - like extremely handsome man step into the area with a carrier.

Aubrey was a married woman but holy shit this guy was hot- without even trying is the thing. 

He had on a New York Yankees Nike hoodie and a pair of Nike athletic shorts with some calf length Blake Nike socks and trainers.

In the carrier was a fresh little baby, couldn’t be older than three months who was bundled up with a sunflower headband on.

The man was multitasking with a curly haired toddler on his other hip as he finds a seat a little bit down from Aubrey on the opposite side.

His wife was standing up at the check-in and of course it made sense that she was absolutely beautiful as well even though Aubrey could relate to how tired she looked.

The woman still had a small bit of her pregnancy bump left signifying that the baby was indeed very very new to the world.

She keeps glancing over at the man, he looks so familiar but she would remember if she had even met someone that handsome.

Then the context clues hit her, his hoodie, his toddler son was also in a little Yankees hoodie that matched his fathers and Aubrey googled quickly.

Her eyes flitted throughout the recent articles.

Styles’ Alleged $65 Million Dollar Bonus

Hot Head Harry Styles - how he managed to start three bench clearing brawls in one game!

Breaking Records and Bats - Styles manages to break his own record in the same season followed by breaking a bat in celebration

Holy shit.

She could help but watch them - this was much more interesting than reading a magazine.

Aubrey didn’t follow baseball but Harry had turned celebrity status and was this well known cocky dickhead to the media - women and men loved and drooled over him for his looks and his skills.

Right now, he sat down with his two babies - the boy looked exactly like Harry, it was quite unbelievable from the curly locks to mossy green eyes that was copy and paste.

Harry was currently tucking an applesauce pouch between his lips and guiding the boy's small hands to hold it for himself.

“Good job,  ,” He murmurs in the dead quiet waiting room as he tucks him further into the crook of his arm.

Harry looks up to his wife who joins them, she is a bit in awe when Aubrey sees him palm a bit at her bloated belly and whisper, “Y’look gorgeous today, mama.”

Aubrey couldn’t help but frown, she wished her husband did that.

YN sits down, leaning her head on his shoulder - Aubrey didn’t know her but she seems tired - of course she was a new mother.

The silence is broken when a nurse comes out and with an apologetic face says, “I’m sorry, we are running really behind today. It might be another thirty minutes,” before shutting the door again.

Harry kisses his wife’s forehead before wrapping his unoccupied arm around her shoulder, a flashing gold band on his ring finger.

Aubrey zones off for a little when her son wakes up, rocking the carrier a few times before he settles again.

She’s brought back to the couple when she hears a sniffle comes from Harry’s wife and his face turned towards hers, hand rubbing her shoulder reassuringly.

“Mama, she’s so healthy. There’s nothin’ to worry about, did a perfect job growing her in y’belly. I know these check-ups make you anxious but nothin’ is gonna be wrong,” He soothes, a near whisper because of how quiet the room is and he didn’t want to disrupt.

“I just don’t know if she’s been getting enough milk, it’s so hard to tell,” YN replies sadly, like she’s disappointed in herself.

“Y’kidding me? She’s our chunkiest baby - look at those little rolls. She’s on y’tits more than any of the boys including me,” He jokes softly, obviously trying to make her feel better.

It seems to work a little bit because she lets out a light giggle with a roll of her eyes, “No one is on them more than you.”

Harry shrugs unashamed before replying seriously, “Everything will be okay. She’s perfect and healthy.”

The curly haired little boy gets a bit squirmy with the wait after he finished his pouch, asking to be set down which his father does.

Harry is watching him carefully, his nervous but still adventurous little two and a half year old, as he toddles around the waiting room.

When he spots Aubrey and her carrier, he wanders over looking up her with wide curious eyes, he points at her son and squeaks, “Baby?”

Ever the diligent father, Harry is up and next to his son, Aubrey is a bit starstruck if she’s honest when he talks to her.

“M’sorry, he’s a curious little one,” Harry smiles at her, going to pick Ezra back up to guide him away from bothering her.

Aubrey waves her hand though, lifting the visor to show the sleeping baby, “Yeah, he’s a baby. That’s Dominic.”

The boy gazes at the baby before lisping, “Bry!”

Aubrey isn’t sure what he means but his father clarifies, “You’re right, Dominic is a baby just like your little sister Briar.”

“Okay,” Ezra shrugs and goes back to his mom to inform him of what he just discovered before crawling up and cuddling into her chest.

Harry nods, “Thanks for indulging him.”

“No pro-problem,” She stutters like an idiot and Harry smiles a bit like he knows but doesn’t say anything else before going back to his family.

A few minutes later when a high-pitched cry resounds through the room, Harry is carefully cradling his daughter who Aubrey notes looks nothing like him but like her mother even though her features were still so little.

“Shush, darlin’,” Harry coos with a soft drawl, leaning in to kiss at the newborn’s button nose.

Briar roots at her father’s chest, smacking her plump lips, and squeaking in frustration when she doesn’t find a nipple. It makes Harry chuckle before he glances at his wife and his smile falters a bit, “Sweetheart, did y’bring a bottle?”

Aubrey watches his wife shake her head, she is facing away from her so she can’t see her expression but gauging Harry’s it seems that she may be upset, “No, I completely forgot. I didn’t bring my nursing blanket either - I’m going to have to go the bathroom. M’being such a bad mom.”

The observer feels a pang in her chest, she can definitely relate to not always feeling like she is a good mother because of little mistakes she makes like forgetting diapers, buying the wrong formula, forgetting to bring a pacifier.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice is firm, “Y’not going to talk like that when s’the farthest thing from the truth. S’okay, we have four babies, we’re both goin’ t’forget things sometimes, okay? Here, let me help you.”

Aubrey wishes she had a husband who was as empowering, supportive of his wife.

He hands the whimpering baby over to his wife, he’s then tugging off his hoodie. Aubrey tries but fails to divert her eyes when his shirt rides up revealing  a glimpse of his taut abdomen and a light dusting of hair leading into his shorts, obscene tattoos covering his hipbones .

Harry maneuvers the hoodie over his wife’s shoulder, helping her tug down her loose shirt and nursing bra, and guiding his newborn to his wife’s breast until she latches and starts suckling hungrily.

“There y’go mama,” He whispers encouragingly before tugging Ezra back onto his lap to rock him a bit as he’s getting whiny - ready for a nap soon and not liking being in an unfamiliar place for too long.

-

Aubrey is buckling Dominic into his carseat when she spots the other family exiting the office. 

Harry’s wife looks much more relaxed, a smile on her face, and her arm tucked around her husband’s narrow hip, they’re parked close to each other, and Aubrey climbs into her small sedan - blasting the aircon.

She watches the parents strapp their kids into a massive, tinted and brand new cadillac escalade that was no doubt over a hundred thousand dollar car but who could expect them to be driving around a mid-level minivan?

After the kids are secured and they close the doors, Harry presses his wife up against it with his arm resting over her shoulder against the window. He is whispering to her, their mouths close before he ducks down to connect their lips.

His hand comes back to her deflating baby bump like he did in the doctor’s office, hand massaging the skin with adoration that was visible even to Aubrey as she sat in her car watching them.

Later on in the week, as she sits on her couch, a video pops up on her timeline. It’s a sports report she was about to skip until the name caught her attention. 

The sports reporter stated, “Harry Styles was fined an alleged sixty thousand dollars at last night’s game after getting into a verbal altercation when the second base man purposely tripped him.”

It flashes to the man she just saw in the doctor’s office in a form-fitting Yankee’s blue and white striped uniform with a helmet on as he ran at an impressive speed from first to second, stumbling when the baseman put out his foot.

Harry recovers quickly enough to touch the base to be considered safe. 

After that though, he’s pushing himself up and brushing off the dirt, then he’s charging towards the man who fucked up the play. 

He has no fear as he gets in the man’s face, veins on his neck standing out as he shouts. They don’t play the audio but you could tell Harry was cussing this man up and down.

It flashed back to the reporter speaking to another, “Nearly every team in the league reports that Styles is an absolute nightmare to play against from his skill to his downright arrogant and cocky attitude. He’s not someone I’d find myself wanting to hang around.”

“I agree with you there, Tucker. He has a right to be proud with all of his broken records and achievements but being a bit humble would do this man so good. I feel sorry for his wife and kids. He probably just spends all day bragging about himself.”

Aubrey clicks off the video, if only everyone in the world just saw the Harry Styles she saw just a few days ago - well they’d all change their minds on what kind of person he is. Especially what kind of husband and father.

--

The Charity Event

It was a charity event at Madison Square Garden in Time Square. 

It was for all Major League Baseball teams who had qualified for the playoffs and of course, The New York Yankees were there.

There were tables filling the whole stadium, extravagant in white linen tablecloths, multiple bars, and it was black tie dress code. 

It was a private event and it was not open to the public but after the dinner there would be awards given out and that would be broadcasted.

Nicole was there with her husband, Trent, the left outfielder with an average batting score. He wasn’t the most popular on the team by far - well everyone got outshined by Styles. 

She couldn’t help but be a little bitter that Harry had gotten a $60 million dollar bonus (the biggest bonus ever gifted but also the Yankees were not taking any chances at losing their star and their ultimate money-maker). Trent got a measly bonus of $100,000 which was nothing in baseball terms. 

The wives and girlfriends of the Yankees players did not like YN one bit. It really wasn’t fair because she was always lovely, kind, and friendly. It didn’t matter because they were all spurred on by jealousy of what she had.

Nicole couldn’t help by gaze at Harry as they sat at the same circle table towards the podium where the awards would be presented after dinner. He was in a sharp all black suit with a small team logo pin of the lapel.

She couldn’t deny how stunning YN looked in an absolutely stunning dress. It was a one-shoulder with sparkling black stripes against a tan background, it fit like a glove and accentuated her stunning legs with a high slit. ***

It blew Nicole’s basic black Gucci dress out of the water which made her even more infuriated at the woman. She knew she was being irrational and if she hated her so much, why couldn’t see stop staring at the couple?

Nicole could get away with it by looking past them at other tables but to be quite honest, the two were much too wrapped up in each other to be aware of any of their surroundings or people watching them.

Trent was off bullshitting with all the other players while the Styles’ sat at the table and Harry waited for people to approach him - like the cocky asshole that he was. He would give them a minute of his time before becoming visibly bored and returning his attention back to his wife.

As the appetizers arrived, Trent finally sat down with a grunt, giving his wife literally no attention as he dug into the salad like a slob. 

Across the table, Harry looked down at his plate, picked out all the tomatoes and stabbed them with his fork. He then brought his hand over to his wife who giggled and let him feed her the three little tomatoes for his salad.

“Don’t like tomatoes, Styles?” Henry, third-baseman, jokes as he watches him feed his wife without any shame.

“I love ‘em, m’missus just really like the little grape ones,” Harry shrugs casually - like that didn’t just sound like the most whipped thing that he could say.

Trent probably couldn’t even guess Nicole’s favorite color - let alone know something so minuscule like YN like the little tomatoes that come on house salads. 

Throughout the whole dinner, it was quite disgusting how infatuated these two were with each other - Harry had at least one hand on her body at one time - her thigh, shoulder, even cupping her neck in a way that was almost too intimate for the setting.

At one point, Harry notices that YN is a bit quiet - sipping on her glass of water and he pulls back from the conversation, murmuring, “Y’alright, mama?”

Nicole bites her lip hard at the cute pet name, feeling even more dislike towards YN - why couldn’t she have had someone like Harry?

“D’you think the babies are okay? Ezra’s been so anxious lately,” YN replies quietly, there were no phones allowed at the event and had to be left at home or at the door.

Harry kisses her temple, “Y’know Ezzie is good with m’mum, doesn’t get as anxious as he used to at sleepovers. Y’know East and Cash are probably on a sugar high.”

YN nods, agreeing and Harry jumps right back into the conversation but she notices that he keeps looking over at his wife to check on her.

Trent accidentally knocks her elbow hard and just grunts out a bland, “Sorry.”

The topic changed to traveling for games. Ellie, another wife of a player who was nice to YN were chatting about how stressful it is.

“I know, loading all three boys up is rough when we do decide to travel to games with H,” YN says to Ellie, a small smile on her face.

“Ugh, I know. Lily and Parker are the worst flyers! They usually end up throwing up or not being able to nap at all,” Ellie groans about her two little ones she has back at home.

YN let’s out a laugh that just irked Nicole to not end.

“It's going to be even harder when we have more kids,” YN laments like she’s bothered.

“Oh? More kids?” Ellie squeaks with excitement, clapping her hands together.

Nicole reaches a breaking point, jumping into the chat,“Really? More kids? Don’t you think you should focus on the ones you have? Or do you think because your husband makes an unfair amount of money, you can just have as many as you want? Hire nannies and act like you take care of them?”

Before YN frowns, about to respond when Harry interjects with a booming, displeased voice, “First off, why don’t y’mind your own fuckin’ business. My wife and I can ‘ave any many kids as we want, last time I checked.”

He continues with tense posture, all of his previous calmness disappears, “Second off, don’t take it out on my wife tha’ your husband got a shit bonus, we all know tha’ why y’pissy. And don’t act like y’dont have a nanny for your one kid while we don’t nor ever will have one.”

Nicole sneers, “You’re a cocky bastard.”

Harry smiles in faux charm, “Of course I am, dear. I’ve got a fucking beautiful wife, three healthy babies, the most records broken in history, and the fattest bank account in this room.”

“Alright, alright,” Trent interrupts and it doesn’t go unnoticed that he doesn’t defend his wife. Instead he shoots Harry an apologetic look for his wife’s behaviors.

Harry just scoffs at the couple, rudely rolling his eyes, and tugging his wife in for a kiss that’s a bit too intense but he can’t help himself, smiles against her lips when his wife pinches his thigh playfully.

He says (not quietly at all), “All these women are jealous of you, hm? S’cause you’re so beautiful and such a fuckin’ catch.”

Nicole feel a sharp pang in her chest at the indirect comment - fucking asshole.

Deep down, Nicole is unfavorably realizing that somehow YN has it all - a loving husband, who is seemingly head over heels four her, three well-behaved children, and everything she could ever want - sitting on Harry’s $600 million dollar net worth, on top of being gorgeous.

She didn’t have that. Trent and her were on the rocks constantly, has definitely cheated on her, their kid is a literal nightmare, and they’re both so reckless with money they have no savings.

It made her jealous to see Harry whispering in YN ear to make her giggle- lips brushing her ear, his hand splayed across her bumcheek while they waited for drinks at the bar, she even hears them murmur ‘I love yous’ at least twice.

Then the lights dim, spotlight on a podium in the front of the room, an older man in a crisp navy suit taking the stage.

“It is an honor for me to announce ‘Player of the Year.’ The decision by the board of Major League Baseball wasn’t a hard one. The statistics and records broke continuously by the man has led us to only one option.”

Everyone watches all the other players in room deflate a bit because they realize the award is going to Harry yet again.

 “He is again breaking a record tonight, he is the first player to earn this achievement four years in a row. The duality of this man when it comes to pitching a curveball or hitting a homer is truly remarkable.”

It makes all the players even more irritated than they already are when they look over at Harry who’s sitting back, manspreading, hand on the back of his wife’s neck gently, and a cocky, unbothered grin.

Like this award wasn’t the biggest accomplishment he could earn.

One of the players from an opposing team at a different table mutters to one of his teammates, “Fucking arrogant asshole. The only thing this award does is feed his gigantic ego.” 

“Such a douchebag,” The other agrees, jealousy tinges his voice.

“I’ve most likely made it obvious who the the recipient is this year. The New York Yankees pitcher with the most strikeouts to date and top-scoring hitter - Mr. Harry Styles!”

The crowd erupts in applause, whistles, and a standing ovation because despite his unsavory demeanor - no one could deny he was a legend.

Before he gets up, Nicole watches as he cups his wife’s cheek - locking her lips in a kiss before she has to give him a playful shove when he tries to slip some tongue.

When Harry gets up to the stage, he shakes the hand of the announcer and takes the award from him, setting it on the podium.

“Fourth year in a row has a nice ring to it,” Harry gives the crowd a dazzling white smile that have his dimples digging into his cheek.

The crowd whistles and coos.

Nicole notices YN getting teary-eyed as she watches her husband accept the award.

“I want t’thank a few people tonight. I want t’thank m’wife and the mama of my babies - YN. She’s supported me from when I was in college with no other career path but baseball, unsure of if I’d fail or not, she stuck through it.”

She can sense everyone’s eyes dart over to YN who is still staring up at her husband - who is giving her a gleaming smile right back.

“We’ve been through some really hard obstacles in our first years as a couple but she’s the reason for all this - the fact that she always believed in me when I didn’t believe in myself.”

The audience is respectful, quiet as he publicly tells a story of his deep love for his wife.

“I want t’thank m’three babies. Easton, Cash, and Ezra. They inspire me to be a better better man and a good role model - even though I think y’all agree they won’t be if they watch too much how I play when I’m out in the field.”

The crowd erupts in laughter at Harry poking fun at his own antics that he’s most famous for. He goes on to thank the team, coaches, Nike, everyone on the professional side of career.

When he’s done, everyone stands back up to congratulate him, patting him on the back as he returns to his seat.

Nicole watches as Harry sits back down, chuckling as he swipes a tear off his wife’s cheek, “Why y’crying, mama?”  

“I’m just so proud of you. Everything you do for me and our babies. The best husband, best daddy. My heart is just full,” She murmurs, clearly not meant for others to hear but Nicole was eavesdropping.

Harry’s eyes darken with something Nicole can’t identify but does notice his hand creeping a bit further up her thigh.

He leans into whisper something into her ear before she sees his lightly nip at her lobe before pulling back to join into the conversation.

-

After the lights come back up, Trent abandons her to go shoot the shit with other guys.

When she trails off to the bathroom, down a long hallway from the main area - she hears a rustling from behind a door labeled with a plaque that says ‘executive meeting room’.

Nicole pauses confused, all these offices and other rooms were strictly off limits during events obviously. She was confused to hear someone in a room that was not supposed to be in use.

Then she realizes it’s not just someone - it’s two people.

“S’good, sweetheart. Give it t’me so good.”

And she knows right then and there all she needs to know about who’s in that conference room and what they were doing.

“Be quiet, you’re being too loud,” YN scolds back, the walls were clearly thin because she could hear the exchange.

“Make y’cunt not feel like heaven then,” He remarks back, his voice slower and more soft than it would be in front of people.

God, Trent and her haven’t slept together in ages - let alone has spontaneous hookups or dirty talk like that ever.

When they all end up back at the table before the closing speech for the night, Nicole spots a nicely sized mark under Harry’s jaw that he’s wearing with pride.

YN had her lipstick wiped off and was much more clingy as the night rolled on which Harry seemed to thrive on.

As she and Trent are on their way home, Nicole speaks into their silence, “I don’t think our relationship is working.”

Not after she saw love and happiness at that event table tonight - she wanted that kind of love not settling for some cheating asshole.

-

The Little League Game

It was a cool autumn evening, it was an important game - if you could call it that for the little league team that Kayla had her son on.

The goal was to determine which team would move onto the playoffs, even though most of this was all in good fun because it was for eight-year-olds and it wasn’t serious.

Kayla couldn’t lie and say that she didn’t spend some of the time curiously gazing at the New York Yankees player who would come to watch his son play.

He wasn’t at every game due to his schedule but it seemed like he came to whatever ones he could with his wife and other three kids.

They had taken the bench on the bleachers right below her so she had an up close and personal view of the family when they’ve never sat this close before.

As the kids warmed up, Harry had his youngest son who looked to be about four sit next to him, squished between his dad and mom happily.

Their middle son was next to his mom on the other side, looking to be about six, and he was wriggling impatiently in his seat - eager to join the other kids in the jungle gym.

The baby girl who looked about a year and a half old didn’t look anything like her brothers - it was obvious that she was a spitting image of her mother (who was stunning).

She was curled up in her mom’s lap, asleep with her face squished against her mother’s chest - a pacifier suckling fiercely between her puffy lips.

“Mama, please,” The curly haired boy begs with greedy puppy dog eyes as he keeps glancing back to look at the other kids.

“You stay right where daddy and I can see you, yes?” YN murmurs, brushing back his unruly curls that where getting long, “And what are our rules?”

“Stay where you can see, don’t talk to strangers, and be nice to others,” He recites perfectly, Kayla was a bit blown away by his manners.

She watches baseball. It was hard to believe their children were so mild mannered when their father was the exact opposite - at least on the field.

Harry was rustling in the diaper bag for something as his son looked at him with wide, concerned eyes, “My baby, daddy.”

“I know, Ezzie. M’lookin’ f’your baby,” His father replies softly, the polar extreme of his normal brash, crude language that had a nasty tone like he couldn’t bother giving people the time of day.

“Daddy, please,” The youngest whines, his little hand grasping at his father’s tattooed wrist as he gets to his knees to help his dad look.

“Left inner pocket,” YN murmurs offhandedly as she makes sure Cash gets to the playground safely with his friends.

“Say ‘thanks mama’,” Harry coos to his son as he manages to tug out the baby doll and hand it to the awaiting little boy.

“Thanks mama,” He replies instantly with a gapped smile as he nuzzles right back into his father’s side as if he can’t get close enough.

“How are you feeling, Ezra?” His mother leans over to ask, keeping the baby close to her chest.

“M’happy, mama,” Ezra replies simply before starting to babble to himself as he plays with the babydoll.

Kayla watches Harry and YN swap a fond look at their son but she couldn’t help but wonder why they asked him that? He seemed fine so why did they feel the need to do that?

The game is going okay, Harry stands up to cheer and whistle when Easton hits a two-base hit but YN smacks his thigh and motions to their sleeping baby.

He looks at her sheepishly before sitting back down, kissing her cheek in apology, and peeking down into the fleece blanket to watch his daughter sleep for a moment.

Then it seems like Easton starts to lose momentum after he pitches two home-runs, his face pinched in disappointment as the other team scores but Harry is attempting to keep him motivated with encouraging shouts.

Easton struggles from then on, he strikes out for his final three turns, doesn’t catch two pop-ups, and his pitches start to get a little shaky. It’s obvious in his facial expression he’s getting upset because he’s breathing heavier like he’s trying not to cry.

Kayla feels a sense of dread for the little boy, his father who’s the best baseball player in modern day history is watching his son not do well during an important game.

 Because of what she knows of him from his temper and attitude on the field - she worries that he’s one of those father’s who will hound their kid for doing poorly.

“Oh, c’mon East,” Harry murmurs softly when his son stumbles over a ground ball before another kid picks it up and throws it in - their son smacking his glove down against the ground in frustration.

“He’s getting himself worked up,” YN notes as she watches her oldest kick his cleats in the dirt with a quivering bottom lip.

“I know,” Harry replies to his wife, “Wish he wouldn’t, he’s gettin’ upset out there, I can tell.”

“Sad?” Ezra squeaks, clambering onto his father’s lap and stating, “Hold me, daddy.”

Harry obliges easily, gathering up his small son before his attention is directed back onto the game - it was down to the last few minutes and unfortunately Easton pitched a ball that resulted in a home run for the other team.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, running a hand through his messy locks before he’s setting Ezra back down on the bleachers, “I’m going to go talk to him. Do you want to meet back home?”

YN nods, leaning down to tuck the baby into the double stroller before buckling Ezra in as well, “I’m going to go get Cash and head out. Why don’t you take him out for some ice cream? I love you.”

“I love you too, mama,” He replies, kissing her softly before kissing both of his kids foreheads and stepping down the bleachers - ignoring all the adults who are staring at him with a starstruck expression as he heads to the dugout.

It cleared out fast, nobody sticking around after the loss that ended with them not continuing on to the championship, and Easton was sat on the bench - he was stoic and there was a hard, angry expression on his face that reminded Kayla of what she saw Harry look like when he played.

As she gathers up her son and makes sure he’s got all of his equipment, Kayla stands and chats to a few of the moms before she’s heading to her car - which happened to be parked next to a sleek Masserati crossover, who would let their muddy kid go in there? Rich people, she guesses.***

Kayla pops the trunk to her van with her key as they get closer, she notices that Harry also has his up and Easton is sitting on the tailgate with his eyes looking down at the pavement. She tries not to appear as nosey or eavesdropping as she tucks her items into the back.

“Sweetheart, s’okay. Y’did so so good tonight,” Harry assures his pouty son, he squats down to start to untie his son’s nike cleats but continues to make eye contact with him. 

“No, I didn’t, Daddy!” Easton whines, tears finally starting to bubble over the surface as he begins to sob with a shuddering chest, “I gave up home runs and then I missed ground balls!”

“Whoa, bubby,” Harry simpers after he tugs off the shoes and throws them carelessly into the back before standing up, “Y’did amazing, are you kiddin’? You did three innings of strikeouts, hit two of y’own homeruns. Y’played like a professional, way better than daddy.”

Kayla’s heart aches a bit when she sees Harry sit down next to him before hugging him harshly into his side, thumbing at the tears that are running down his son’s sweaty cheeks with soft reassurances.

“Daddy, are you mad I didn’t win?” Easton asks shakily, keeping his head buried into his father’s side and his small hand clutching into the fabric of his hoodie.

Harry chuckles lowly, “Daddy would never be mad at you f’anythin’, definitely not a baseball game. Remember what mama and I said? If at any point y’want to stop playin’, just let us know and we can find something else, yeah? Just like how Ezzie does art classes.”

Easton seems to calm down after a few moments of Harry rocking him and reassuring him of what an amazing son he is.

As Kayla drove away that night, her perspective on the all-star baseball player definitely changed. It was refreshing to see someone to not hold their child to an unreasonable expectation just like she thought Harry would.

--

The Campfire

Austin was the shortstop on the baseball team, he’d brought along his girlfriend, Chelsea, to the frat party to celebrate another win.

Everyone was in whispers that Harry was bringing his new girlfriend but nobody knew who she actually was because it was just a rumor.

It was surprising because Harry wasn’t a relationship kind-of man. He wasn’t into hookups much - always said he needed to focus on baseball.

Many of his teammates were envious of how many girls were constantly coming up to Harry at parties to flirt and try to get a dance in but he had always rejected them.

Harry had never showed interest in any of these girls at the parties, never seen him disappear upstairs with one or really entertain a conversation over a beer like they’d expect.

Chelsea pokes his shoulder and nods towards the entrance when Harry walks in with his arm around YN’s shoulder.

Most were in a little shock because they seemed like such an unlikely couple - YN had written some scathing articles about him and it was no secret he hadn’t been a fan of her.

“Holy shit, Harry’s dating YN?” Chelsea whispers to Austin as the group of party-goers cheer and whistle at the allstars appearance.

“Guess so,” Austin replies with a shrug, tugging Chelsea into the kitchen for a drink.

Later on that night, there’s a bonfire on one side of the backyard and a volleyball net on the other where a group was gathering to play.

Austin and Chelsea are on the opposing team of Harry and YN - she can’t help but watch them with curiosity because of what a surprise it is that they’re dating.

Even Austin has been watching because Harry’s acting in a way that he’s never seen throughout his time on the team with him.

Harry is just all over YN which was confusing how he went from not being remotely interested in the college girls to being a lovestruck puppy.

When she throws the ball up to serve, Harry reaches over and pinches her bum which makes her squeak and accidentally drop the ball which has him cackling as she glares at him.

As they change positions, he crowds up behind her, and massages her hips, leaning down to murmuring something in her ear.

She blushes wildly before smacking him off which has him laughing hard and kissing the back of her head before taking his position.

After Harry jumps and spikes the ball hard, earning them the winning point, YN turns around and wraps her arms around him to hug him tightly.

Harry wraps his arms around her shoulders, returning the hug before pulling back to kiss her lips in a soft peck.

Chelsea elbows Austin, “Who’s that and what did they do with Harry?”

Austin shakes his head, “I really don’t fucking know.”

The group migrates over to the fire as they might become cooler and the stars are high up in the sky, the fire flickering orange and yellow crackles of sparks.

Harry plops into a chair, pulling YN right onto his lap, and she wriggles until she’s comfortable. Chelsea notices him tap her thigh as if telling her to cut it out, too much motion right on his crotch.

Jake, one of his teammates, says in a teasing tone, “YN, I’m surprised to see you around these parts . I clearly remember a strongly worded article about how stupid frat parties are.”

YN takes it in stride, smiling as she replies, “And this party just proves my point.”

The group laughs easily, they enjoy YN’s sharp wit and comebacks as they get to know her. Austin can’t help but to notice how quiet Harry is.

Normally, he’s the life of the party, loud and making his presence known to everyone but not tonight. He has his chin propped on her shoulder and she’s cuddled back into his chest.

Austin can’t make out what Harry is saying but he’s constantly whispering in her ear and accentuating each time with a squeeze to her thighs.

“Are you guys official?” One of the teammates asked bluntly, a few beers deep by this point in the night.

Harry replies instantly, a possessive squeeze, “She’s mine and off the market, s’don’t even think about it.”

“Well I don’t think it matters because she’s turned down the whole baseball team by this point. I think everyone tried to ask her out at least once,” Steve jokes as the others agree.

“Tha’s m’girl,” Harry murmurs to her before teasing his friends,“Who’d want to go out with any you? You’re all dickheads.”

Everyone continues to joke around, it’s nearing midnight and that’s right about when Harry gets in his prime - like the party just started.

But not tonight.

YN’s eyes start to flutter shut as everyone banters and drinks around the fire, obviously not used to these late night parties.

“I better get this one t’bed,” Harry states after a few minutes, thumbing at YN’s cheekbone as she tries to stay awake.

“I’m okay,” She mumbles weakly, head still heavy against his shoulder.

“You’re coming back though, right?” Kyle asks expectantly, brows furrowed.

Harry shakes his head, “Nah, m’in for the night when she is.”

All the players look at him with a bit of a dumbfounded look, Steve shooting out, “Who knew you’d be so pussy whipped, Styles?”

Chelsea’s eyebrows raise at the crude comment, waiting with bated breath as Harry’s jaw clenches as it seems like he’s biting his tongue.

“Goodnight,” Harry says in a tone Austin has never heard before - agitated and almost…offended.

When Austin and Chelsea are sneaking up to his room for a late night hook-up, she overhears Harry and YN in his bedroom.

At first, she thinks they’re in an actual argument but as she listens to them - it’s not the kind of arguement she thought it was.

“You’re always the little spoon,” YN groans from behind the closed door.

Harry squawks, affronted before huffing back at her, “S’my favorite, please spoon me, darling?”

“You’re so fucking spoiled,” YN giggles as Chelsea assumes they move into a position where Harry’s the little spoon.

“Mm, I like feelin’ y’tits against my back, s’nice,” Harry hums with a boyish tone.

Chelsea doesn’t even realize she’s smiling until Austin drags her from her stupor. 

All she knew was that Harry Styles really really fancied that school reporter.

-=-=-=-=-=-

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[malleux]

PART THREE PART THREE PART THREE

spell [3]. | corpse husband

part one ; part two

-> Pairing: Corpse Husband x Fem!Reader

-> Genre: Fluff

-> Warnings: Anxiety, Self Doubt, Cursing, Hate Comments

-> A/N: here’s the long awaited part three! it’s definitely longer than the last chapters, but genuinely thank you all for 300 followers in literally 4 days lol. also, i wrote this under the small assumption that corpse’s main love language is physical touch!

corpse husband taglist is closed!

You didn’t realize that it was possible to shake so much. You were practically panicking- just from standing in front of an apartment door, ready to knock and meet the man who changed your life.

You’d woken up this morning bright and early. The Facetime call was still on with Corpse and small snores could be heard from his line. You had prayed that he’d gotten at least more than an hour, but doubted it as you hung up and sent a message about when you’d be leaving.

Corpse soon messaged back saying that he was awake as you finally finished packing- you’d stopped last night when he called- so you got in your car and drove the two hours it took to get to San Diego.

So now you stood in front of his apartment, practically trembling. Why you were so anxious, you didn’t know. You’d been talking to him for how long now? And it was never awkward.

But things could easily change when you met him in real life, couldn’t they?

You shook those thoughts out of your head and mustered up enough courage to knock on Corpse’s door, already becoming out of breath from such a simple gesture.

A crash sounded from in the apartment, followed by a small ‘fuck’ that made your heart flip. Soon after, the door opened and you looked up, finally coming eye to eye with him. You couldn’t help the grin that stretched across your face, mirroring his own as he smiled at you as well.

“Hi.” You internally smacked yourself for not saying more, but that’s truly all that could come out of your mouth at the moment.

“Hey. You’re uh- you’re so much prettier in real life.” Corpse responded, looking nearly everywhere but you.

You flushed. “And you’re super attractive, but I already suspected that.”

You could tell he was taken aback by your compliment because he suddenly became even more shy, silently moving out of the doorway and gesturing for you to enter.

“I’m going to film again with everyone in a few minutes, but first I can show you my bedroom so you can make yourself comfortable.” Corpse said after he closed the door. “You can sleep in there and I’ll stay on the couch-“

“Absolutely not.” You interjected, “I’m not kicking you out of your bed.”

“But you’re the guest and I’m not about to let you sleep on my couch.”

“And you’re the owner of this apartment and I’m not going to take over your space like that. I’m sleeping on the couch.”

Corpse groaned and reached his arm out towards you. You thought he was going to just shove your shoulder away for being stubborn, but instead he wrapped his arm completely around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as a hug. You grinned and turned, giving him a full hug and resting your cheek against his chest as his chin laid on your head.

“I’m for real glad you came to visit.” He murmured into your hair, squeezing you a bit tighter before letting go. “Do you wanna stream with me tonight or just chill and watch?”

꧁꧂

“Corpse is streaming Among Us again with Sean, Felix, Rae, Sykkuno, Dave, and Leslie!”

“Where’s Y/N? I miss #CorpseY/N !!”

Twitter was truly your go-to platform when you were bored. You’d been scrolling on it for about thirty minutes now, laying on a small couch that Corpse had in his gaming room.

The man himself was sitting across the room at his desk, talking loudly as he defended himself from being accused as Imposter.

You continued to scroll, feeling a little anxious that somehow Corpse just magically knew that you were looking through your ship tag with him. These were your only worried thoughts until you went past your first… unsavory comment of the day.

“Y/N isn’t playing with them again today. Maybe she finally got the hint that they don’t want her around.”

You rolled your eyes and ignored it, but couldn’t help the rather loud sigh that escaped your lips.

“Hey, guys, I’m going to mute the mic for a second. Everything’s good, don’t worry.” Corpse said into his mic before turning around and facing you. “Is everything okay?”

Turning the phone off and laying it on your chest, you contemplated telling Corpse the truth. He’d just worry about you and you didn’t want that. But he already was worried about you- he’d muted Among Us just to check on you.

“Why are people so mean to others?”

Corpse studied you for a minute before patting his lap. “Come here.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“You're excused. Now come here.”

You stood up and cautiously walked towards the man, who sat before you expectantly. He playfully rolled his eyes and grabbed your wrist, pulling you into his lap sideways. Your back rested against one arm of his gaming chair while your legs draped across the other.

Corpse had one arm reaching around your back, placing his fingers on the keyboard while the other rested on top of your knees, grabbing the computer mouse. You laid your head on Corpse’s shoulder, resting in the crook of his neck.

“It’s in that shipping hashtag, isn’t it? I swear- whoever says that shit about you is dead wrong. Tell me if it gets worse, I’ll put them back in their fucking place. Nobody gets to decide who I’m with or who’s worthy of me.”

You only nodded and closed your eyes, breathing in Corpse’s cologne as he unmuted his mic once more to defend his honor, much like he was ready to defend you.

꧁꧂

Your body ached.

As you had argued your first day with Corpse, you’d been sleeping on his couch for four days now. The first night was okay- his couch was rather comfortable, but it didn’t compare to a bed. Now, your back, shoulders, and neck were killing you.

Every day, 7am would roll around and you would wake up, the soreness preventing you from sleeping in longer.

Usually, you would go into Corpse’s room and talk to him as he messed around on his laptop while sitting in his bed, but today when you entered, he was finally sleeping. It was the first time you’d seen him rest since you’d arrived and you quietly left, not wanting to disturb his much-needed sleep.

You made your way to his small kitchen, pulling out the few groceries that he had in his refrigerator to make breakfast.

Corpse often ate fast foods and takeout, and apologized earlier in the week for not having much to eat. You reassured him that it was okay- that him just letting you visit was enough- and now, you were determined to make it up to him with the best breakfast in bed ever.

You were halfway through making breakfast when the soft thump of feet echoed in the doorway before a chin planted itself on your shoulder.

“Whatcha cookin?” You practically shuddered at Corpse’s morning voice before suddenly gasping and shoving him out of the kitchen.

“No! No!” You pushed him back to his room, “Stay! Go back to bed, now!”

Right as you turned to go back to the kitchen, Corpse caught your wrist and pulled you down onto the bed with him. You practically squealed as you fell, making him laugh.

“Why? What’s going on?” He turned to face you with a teasing smile.

“I was making you breakfast in bed! I was gonna surprise you when you woke up, but you ruined it.” You pouted.

“Aw, poor baby.” His hand reached up and brushed a stray hair out of your face before he traced down your jawline, reaching your chin and using his finger to tilt it up. “I think I’ve got a better surprise, though.”

You quirked an eyebrow, but before you could say anything his lips were on yours. Your heart stopped, but you almost immediately melted into his kiss, bringing your own hand up to cup his cheek while his moved to rest on your waist.

Corpse soon propped himself up on his elbow, never once leaving your lips- just deepening the kiss. He smiled and gave you a few more pecks before finally pulling away and looking at you in adoration.

“Those little hate comments? They’re wrong. If anything, I don’t deserve you. You’ve still got me under a little spell and I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Corpse, you deserve the world and I’d be honored to be the one to give it to you.”

“God, you’re perfect for me.”

You couldn’t say anything else. You could only lay beneath him, admiring the man who was now yours. Corpse leaned down again to capture you in another kiss, but you suddenly jerked away before you could lose yourself again.

“Shit, the pancakes!”

┎┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┒

spell taglist: @tanchosanke @paoisabelll @save-the-sky @yukinesekki98 @stephn-prkr @honestlyimstilllivinginthe90s @lustypielita @bi-andready-tocry @coruscaret

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┖┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┚

[leslie-lyman]

Stranger At My Gate - Chapter 2 (Pero Tovar x modern!OFC)

A time-traveling Pero. A modern woman trying her best. A kitchen full of possibility. A helping of Midwest kindness. A dash of magic. And a lot of Christmas spirit.

pairing: Pero Tovar x modern!OFC

rating: T for now

word count: 5.3k

a/n: okay, first of all, wow. The reaction to the first chapter of this story was far beyond what I could have hoped for, so thank you. One general note/warning I want to put here for this fic before we proceed further: as you may have guessed, food is going to play a huge role in this story - the preparing of it, the enjoying of it, and some issues around it regarding food insecurity and hunger that would be expected of someone from Pero’s time. I know that discussion of food can be tough for folks, even outright triggering, so I did want to say something about it here. I will do my best to tag individual chapters with any warnings and such as we go along. If that’s cool with you, read on!

Previous chapter.

————

Two.

“Why is it always ‘Henry, please come over to help me deal with the dirty, wounded stranger who showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night’ and never ‘Henry, please come over just because I love you and miss you and want to spend time with you, the best brother in the whole world’?”

Tessa elbows him in the ribs with a precision honed from thirty years of practice.

“You’re the best brother in the whole world because you come over to help me deal with the dirty, wounded stranger.”

Tessa hadn’t heard the man knock on her door, she’d felt it, her Gift waking her up from a dead sleep around four in the morning with a wild sense of urgency. She hadn’t even realized she’d gotten out of bed and run to her front door until she’d opened it and found...him.

For a few terrible moments, she’d been afraid he was dead. She’d been relieved to feel a strong, steady pulse under his jaw, though he hadn’t stirred once the entire time she’d wrestled his large frame into her house and out of the storm.

After getting him inside, she’d called Henry, knowing that regardless of the early hour, when she asked him to come over right away with his basic medical kit and some spare clothes, he’d answer.

If Tessa’s Gift is intuition, her brother’s Gift is healing. He can’t work instant miracles, but his patients tend to get over their flus, their colds, their ear infections far more quickly than usual. If you were to ask them, they’d also say there’s an inexplicable sense of comfort they feel when they see him, that something about his manner just puts them at ease. As far as Tessa is concerned, that part has nothing to do with his Gift. Henry has the biggest heart of anyone she knows. It’s just who he is. Tessa is certain that even without his magical talent, he’d have become a doctor regardless.

After a preliminary examination hadn’t revealed any obviously life-threatening injuries, at Tessa’s insistence the two of them had managed to carry the mysterious stranger into Tessa’s guest room. They’d gingerly stripped him of his boots, leather outer tunic, rough cloth undershirt, and a somewhat concerning number of very real-looking weapons before covering him up in several spare blankets to get him warm and dry. He’d flitted in and out of consciousness a few times, especially when Henry had cleaned the wounds on his knuckles and the cut on his temple, but never long enough to be coherent before slipping off again.

Now, just after seven in the morning, Tessa and her brother stand in her still-dark kitchen, waiting for the sun to come up and debating what to do next.

“Think he’s gonna be okay?”

Henry shrugs, grabbing two mugs from Tessa’s extensive collection and helping himself to her coffee maker.

“From what I can tell, there’s no immediate issue. The wound on his head doesn’t look severe enough to cause a concussion, and he’s not exhibiting any clear signs of infection. But I can only do basic first aid with what I’ve got, otherwise there’s nothing for it except to wait for him to wake up. If we took him to a hospital - ”

“No.”

They’d had this argument when Henry had first arrived, and she’d shut him down then too.

“Tess, why the hell not? His appearance is odd, I grant you, but if it turns out he could use a psych eval, too - ”

“He came through the Gate.”

Henry jerks his head to look at her, alarmed.

“He what?”

“He came through the Gate,” Tessa says again, and she’s not sure why she says it, but as soon as she does, she knows it’s true.

“The Gate.” It is impossible for Henry’s eyebrows to rise any higher. “You can’t be serious. Those strange looking trees in the woods? The little fairy circle Gran always warned us away from as kids? You think, last night, it actually acted as, what, some kind of portal?”

“Gran warned us to stay away from it for a reason, Henry.”

“Yeah, I always thought the reason was she didn’t want us wandering too far away from the house. Not because it was real.”

“We of all people should not be surprised when magic in this world rears its head,” Tessa chides him gently. “You know the lore about All Hallow’s Eve and Samhain the same as I do. Gran would sit us right over there by the fire and tell us about spirits and fairies and the borders between worlds growing thin, magical things happening that wouldn’t be possible most other nights.”

Henry hands her a full mug of coffee that reads “Pritzker School of Law” on the side and firmly decides not to explore that particular topic any further.

“I’ll call out of the clinic today.”

“You will do no such thing.”

They both try to make it sound like they will brook no argument, but only Tessa pulls it off. Henry tries to protest anyway.

“Tee, you can’t be serious, I am not leaving you here with a strange, injured man, alone. Especially not after telling me you think he’s some kind of magical time-traveler from who the fuck knows when and where.”

“You are not shirking your responsibilities at the clinic to babysit me. You said it yourself, there’s not much we can do at this point besides wait for him to wake up, anyway.”

Henry runs his own small family practice, but he volunteers several times a month at the free clinic run by the county. Under absolutely no circumstances would she prevent him from spending the day caring for folks who need his help far more than she does.

“Besides, I’ll be fine. He won’t hurt me.”

Henry narrows his eyes at her.

“Are you telling me that? Or is your Gift?”

“It’s the truth, Hank.” And it is.

“You think this is it? The thing your Gift was telling you about?”

Tessa snorts. “I’m not sure yet, but I fucking hope so. I’d hate to see what else the universe has in store for me if it isn’t.”

Henry takes a long sip from his own mug, then sets it back down on the counter with a sense of resolve.

“I expect you to text me at least once an hour so I know you haven’t been murdered.”

“I will.”

“And I’ll be back as soon as my shift ends to check on you. And on him.”

“Of course.”

“If anything happens, call me. If I don’t answer, call the front desk and have them page me.”

“It’s so cute when you think you’re in charge of me.”

“Tess.”

“I’m teasing, jeez. I promise if anything goes wrong, you will be the first to know.”

“Good. And for the love of god, don’t tell Amie.”

Tessa rolls her eyes.

“Do I look like an idiot? It’s less than a month until the farm officially opens full-time for the season, she’s got enough on her plate. She doesn’t need a reason to go into ‘protective eldest sibling’ mode right now.”

“No she does not.” Henry eyes the green glowing numbers of the clock in Tessa’s microwave, still looking unsure about leaving. She reaches over and puts a hand on his arm.

“Henry, go. This isn’t where you’re needed most right now. And if it will make you feel better, I’ll call Aunt Moira.”

Henry nods. “You should.”

“I will.”

“She should know about this.”

“Did you not hear me when I said I would call her?”

“A text every hour or I’m sending the cops, understood?”

“You’re lucky my Gift isn’t telekinesis. Now go.”

———

The door shuts behind Henry, and Tessa is alone.

Well, sort of.

She runs a hand over her hair and exhales a big raspberry of a breath.

What now?

She finishes her coffee, leaving the mug in the sink for later.

She wipes up the lingering water the stranger had left on her floor when she’d first wrangled him inside. As the sun starts to make itself known, the sky remains cloudy, but the rain has since stopped, the storm blown over.

She changes from her pj pants and hoodie into leggings and a cozy sweater dress.

There are lots of other things she could do. Her unfinished to-do list from the day before still needs addressing. She has Halloween decor scattered around that needs to be taken down. She has boxes and boxes of Christmas decor sitting in the attic that she usually cannot wait to start putting up as soon as November rolls around.

She does none of those things.

Instead, she grabs the current book she’s reading from her nightstand and settles into the chair in the corner of her guest room.

She wonders if she’s being a bit creepy by just hanging out in the same room where her mysterious stranger still rests, dead to the world. But she figures she should be here when he wakes, in an unfamiliar place and in an unfamiliar time. To try and reassure him that he’s okay, he’s safe, and that there’s no cause for alarm.

The room is much lighter now than it was when she and Henry had first laid him out on the bed. Tessa lets herself take in the mop of dark, unruly curls that flop over his brow, the patchy stubble that covers his jaw and the fuller mustache across his upper lip. His nose is strong and slightly hooked, and he has a faded scar over his left eye. The rest of him is covered up by blankets now, but she can’t help but remember how broad his shoulders had looked, how solid his arms and back had felt under her hands when they’d gotten him out of his wet clothes.

Despite the wet dog smell and the fading bruising under his eye and the fact that he’s covered in several layers of dirt, sweat, and grime, he’s undeniably handsome in a rough, rogue-ish, Viggo-Mortensen-in-Lord-of-the-Rings kind of way.

She isn’t worried that she’s in any danger here alone here with him. She hadn’t lied to Henry.

It was frustrating, her magic. Her siblings had active Gifts; they could call on them when they needed to, wield them like tools to shape the world around them. Tessa’s simply was. She could never predict when or how it might surface, a vague feeling in her gut, a prickle in her bones. A bubble of knowledge she hadn’t had a moment earlier, but once spoken out loud she can feel the surety of truth snapping into place like correctly matched puzzle pieces.

He came through the Gate.

When she meets someone for the first time, it usually gives her a general feel for the person, a sense of their character, their being. Tessa knew what a bad person felt like, the greasy feeling of selfishness and greed, or the hot, sharp warning of a desire to do harm.

He won’t hurt me.

She reads for a bit, looking up every few minutes to make sure she can still see the stranger’s chest rising and falling.

She fires off one “still alive” text to her brother, then another. She makes a little more progress on her book.

By hour three, one of her legs has fallen asleep, and she’s actually starting to get slightly annoyed at the mystery man.

“If you’re going to break multiple laws of physics and time, the least you could do is be conscious while you take advantage of my hospitality,” she grumbles at him, albeit very quietly.

She gets up and takes a closer look at his clothes and belongings they’d stacked on the dresser. She fiddles with the two swords for a moment, admiring how much heavier they are than she’d anticipated, before turning to the little pouch tied to his belt. Inside she finds a handful of silver coins with irregular edges, each stamped with the design of a Greek cross. And something else, too, some sort of...necklace?

The angry grunt of an unintelligible sentence from behind her makes her nearly jump out of her skin. Tessa whirls around, both coins and jewelry making small ting sounds as they clatter on the dresser.

The stranger is awake.

Awake, and staring at her as she rifles through his things.

“Uh, hi,” she says, years of debate and public speaking and experience as a litigator apparently flying right the fuck out the window.

He glares silently at her in response.

“I, uh, I was just looking, you know, at, at your stuff,” she tries again. “I wasn’t going to do anything with it, I promise. Except maybe try and google the coins, see if I could find out more about when they were made, and when you might be from. Cause you were still passed out, and I didn’t want to wake you, and I think you might have come here from a different time - ”

She finally takes a breath and approaches him, hands held slightly out in front of her like she’s trying not to scare off a wild animal.

“Sorry,” she says softly, coming to sit on the edge of the bed. “I don’t mean to overwhelm you right off the bat. How do you feel? You were out for quite a while.”

He says something in response, but it’s not in a language she recognizes.

“I’m afraid I can’t understand you, buddy.”

He repeats himself, or at least she thinks he does. It almost sounds like Spanish, but there’s something vaguely Latin about some of the pronunciation. A dialect of some kind, maybe?

Fuck. This was a complication Tessa had not considered.

“This is gonna be a lot more difficult if we can’t communicate with each other,” she tells him.

The next thing he says to her is a question, based on his intonation. When she doesn’t give any indication she understood him, he asks her again in what is clearly a different language from the first one he tried.

One she cannot understand, but thinks she recognizes, thanks to a semester in college spent studying Beowulf using a translation alongside the original text.

Old English. A language no one has spoken in almost a thousand years.

She swallows thickly at the implication of that and shakes her head. “It seems you know more languages than I do, stranger, but none of them are ones I know.”

There’s a hint of concern in his stare now, as he must come to the same conclusion she has about their predicament. His eyes are brown, she notices.

He opens his mouth to say something else, but is suddenly overcome by a small coughing fit instead.

“Oh, shit, here - ” Tessa helps him sit up and hands him a glass of water that’s been waiting on the bedside table. He drains it in one go, nodding at her in thanks.

Tessa takes a moment to get an internal grip on herself. She can do this. She can figure this out. This man needs her help, even if he doesn’t quite realize the extent of his situation yet. This grumpy, injured man who did not speak or understand any discernible modern language and who was clearly way, way out of his own time.

“We should at least be able to tell each other our names,” she tells him. She jabs two fingers into her sternum, holding his gaze, and says, “Tessa. Tessa Walsh.”

She flips her hand towards him and looks at him expectantly, hoping it’s obvious what she wants.

He looks at her for a moment, then slowly rests his hand on his own chest. “Pero Tovar.”

Tessa can’t help the way she smiles at him then. “Pero,” she murmurs softly, trying to shape his name the same way he had with his accent and hoping she doesn’t fuck it up too badly. “Pero Tovar.”

Something flickers across his face, a millisecond of emotion she doesn’t get a good enough look at to identify.

“Tessa,” he says, and she has to suppress a shiver at how he makes it sound, his plush, full lips wrapping around the syllables of her name. “Tessa Walsh.”

A little bud of triumph blooms in her chest. “Okay,” she says, “that’s one thing we know about each other, then.”

———

Tessa grabs Pero a second glass of water, and it seems to slowly become clear to him that something isn’t right, that there are things about her home, just about this room, even, that are not what he would expect from his own time. She sees him looking closely or even running his hands over things she’d never even think of as being foreign, like the clear, perfectly round glass he drinks from, or the bright floral print on the extra blanket tossed over his feet, or the little battery-powered clock on the nightstand.

He pushes the blanket back and tries to stand up. He wobbles on his feet for one perilous moment, and Tessa doesn’t hesitate to reach out and steady him. His bare torso carries more scars, several white and red lines of tissue bisecting the outline of muscle under his skin and interrupting the light dusting of hair across his chest. But after a few seconds to get his bearings, he seems alright without her help.

Tessa tells herself that she is not disappointed by that fact. She makes an educated guess about what he needs, and shows him to her spare bathroom.

Things get further complicated here. There had been no need to have any lights on in the bedroom, but there aren’t any windows in the bathroom, so Tessa crosses her fingers as she flips the lightswitch. There’s not a simple way for Tessa to convey the concept of electricity and running water and all the things in her home that they make possible via hand gestures, so she resorts to simply explaining things to him in English anyway, hoping that a calm, deliberate tone of voice will help ease the anxiety of the unfamiliar for him. For his part, Pero processes what information he can with a mostly silent stoicism that Tessa knows she would not be able to emulate for a second if their situations were reversed. After a bit of awkward pantomime and a little show and tell with various faucets, she thinks she gets him to understand the relative functions of the sink, shower, and toilet.

She brings him an extra towel and a change of clothes that Henry had dropped off earlier, and leaves him to it. She lingers outside the doorway until she hears the shower turn on, then retreats into the kitchen.

Her mystery man - Pero - occupied for the moment, she calls her Aunt Moira.

Aunt Moira is actually her Great-Aunt Moira, but nobody with any sense of self- preservation ever calls her that. After Gran had died, she’d inherited the title of the family matriarch, which in Tessa’s family meant that when something odd and magical happened, you called.

“Somebody better be in the hospital or something better be on fire for you to call this early, Tessa,” she grouses by way of greeting.

Tessa is uncowed by her tone. “It’s almost noon, Aunt Moira.”

The older woman hmphs into the phone.

“It’s the day after Halloween, kid. This is early for the day after Halloween. I was up all night celebrating. Honoring the ancestors and whatnot.”

Playing bridge and drinking too much gin with her fellow octogenarian friends is hardly a traditional method of observing this particular holiday, but Tessa doesn’t say that out loud. Moira had been spending Halloween this way with a group of lifelong girlfriends every year since before Tessa had been born.

“Who hosted this year?”

“Ethel. You know it’s already below freezing here in Minneapolis? I don’t know how the woman can live here year-round.”

“Moira, you live one house over from me. In Michigan. There’s a non-zero chance we’ll get lake effect snow, like, next week.”

“Yeah, well, next week is next week, and today is today, and today I’m freezing my tits off in Minneapolis.”

“When do you get home?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Fuck,” Tessa mutters, but not quietly enough.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Moira’s tone softens with concern.

The water is still running in the shower.

“I need your help.” Tessa explains the events of the past few hours as quickly as she can.

“Damn,” Moira says when she’s finished. “This would happen while I’m away. Lived on the other side of those damn woods my whole life and never seen anything more interesting than deer come out of them before.”

“I think he’s traveled here from a long time ago. I mean a long time ago.”

“And a long distance too, no doubt. Nobody ever spoke Old English on this continent.”

“So you see why I’m in need of your particular talents.”

“I’ll see if I can’t get home sooner than tomorrow. But if I can’t, will you be okay until then?”

“This is far from the scariest thing I’ve ever done, Moira.”

Tessa swears she can hear her aunt purse her lips.

“That is not what I asked you, Tessa Elizabeth.”

Annoyed affection swells in her chest.

“I’ll be fine.”

———

It takes less time than Tessa had anticipated for Pero to emerge, dressed in a plain black t-shirt and sweatpants. Tessa wonders if this is all too new for him to truly relax and enjoy something like a hot shower.

He stands in the threshold where the hallway to the bedrooms ends, looking around her kitchen and the main living room it opens into. Even in modern clothing there’s something off about him, like he doesn’t belong in the current year. There’s something in the way he stands, maybe, or perhaps it’s the unmissable scar across his left eye, that makes him look mismatched to the present time.

She’s not exactly sure what she’s supposed to do with Pero for the next twenty hours or so until Moira can get there, but she’s damn sure of the immediate next step.

Food. And if there is one thing Tessa Walsh knows how to do, it’s feed people.

“Hi, Pero,” Tessa says brightly, watching him from her spot near the stove. She’s defrosted a container of homemade tomato soup from a batch she’d made last week and is now standing guard over a pair of grilled cheese sandwiches sizzling quietly in a pan.

He just gives her a tiny nod in response.

“I made lunch,” she says, “I figured you’re probably hungry.”

He wanders over to her, intrigued by the smell. And, she suspects, by the way she’s cooking something hot via something other than a fire. If she had to guess, she’d say he’s an inch or so taller than Henry; she has to look up quite a bit to meet his eye. A few spare drops of water cling to the ends of his curls.

“It’s almost ready,” she tells him. “You can go sit, if you want. Probably shouldn’t be on your feet too long, take things slow.” She points at him, then at the table, chairs, and built-in bench that serve as her breakfast nook in the corner. He takes her meaning and sits.

A few minutes later she puts a bowl of soup and its corresponding sandwich (cut diagonally) in front of each of them. She briefly considers the cans of Coke in the back of her fridge, but opts instead to fill up two more glasses of water. Pero may not be showing it, but he’s got to be pretty overwhelmed as it is. If indoor plumbing is new to him, soda is definitely going to be a shock.

“Bon appetit,” she says, clinking her glass against his before picking up her sandwich and dunking a corner of it into the soup.

He looks at her, then down at his plate, and picks up his own sandwich to follow suit. At his first bite, he makes a noise, eyes closing and brow furrowing in a combination of pleasure and surprise.

Tessa can’t help but grin at him.

“Good, right?” She says. “There’s no food as comforting as grilled cheese and tomato soup, I swear. My mom used to make it for me whenever I would stay home sick.”

After that first bite, however, Pero polishes off his food in record time, mopping up every last drop of soup with the last bite of sandwich so quickly Tessa isn’t sure he actually was able to taste any of it. He’s done before Tessa’s gotten through even half her sandwich, and she catches him eyeing the triangle of golden brown bread still untouched on her plate, perfectly melted cheese oozing from between the slices. There’s something a little feral, a little desperate in his gaze, that says he wants her food but doesn’t want to be obvious about it.

She pushes her plate over to him. He looks at her first with guilt at being caught out, then with suspicion, like he thinks there’s going to be some sort of catch, and it breaks her heart a little. He shakes his head the tiniest bit, and tries to push the plate back to her. He jerks his chin at her, as if to say, you need to eat, too.

But he’s still hungry. Tessa can see it, and she wonders what his life has been like, what he’s had to endure.

She picks up the sandwich half and deposits it directly on his plate this time instead. He scowls at her, and perhaps it’s because he thinks she’s taking pity on him. So she drops her chin into her hand, and looks at him with a firm, deliberate kindness.

“Don’t argue with me, Pero,” she says. “People don’t go hungry in this kitchen. Not when this house belonged to my grandmother and not now that it belongs to me.”

His frown deepens. She quirks an eyebrow at him instead.

“That’s a very intimidating look you’ve got going on there, Pero. Is that the look you use to instill fear into your enemies right before you gut them with those two pointy swords you carry around?”

It becomes a brief staring contest. Tessa meets Pero’s gaze head-on, and after a few moments, with a small huff through his nose, Pero relents, attacking the remaining sandwich half with vigor.

———

The rest of the afternoon passes surprisingly quickly. It’s clear that Pero is still exhausted and still healing. He settles on her couch after giving the contents of the shelves built into either side of the fireplace a cursory inspection (which are filled to bursting with books and the occasional framed family photo). He ends up nodding off, which gives Tessa a few hours to get some work done.

This work includes updating the post that should have gone up on her site yesterday and hitting “publish.”

It includes texting Henry to let him know she is still not dead, and to successfully convince him that he should come over to check on Pero tomorrow after Moira’s had a chance to come by, instead of today.

It does not include answering the emails.

The house is quiet in a way Tessa typically cannot stand. Normally she’d always have music playing or the tv on. There are lots of things Tessa loves about living alone, but being alone with the silence is not one of them. How ironic, then, that today, she doesn’t dare turn on her usual background noise out of concern for her mostly silent visitor. She finds after a while that she doesn’t mind it terribly much, though. It could easily be unnerving, having Pero - who is still a time-traveling stranger - take a catnap on her couch. But instead, she finds it oddly comforting knowing that he’s there, and that she can hear the occasional snore emanating from the cushions.

As quietly as she can, Tessa also gathers up the fall decor around the house: tiny decorative pumpkins on the mantle, orange and purple string lights in the window, cute wooden signs leaning up on her kitchen counters that say things like the witch is in. Once it’s all back in its designated plastic tub, she retreats to the hallway and pulls down the ladder that allows her to access her attic. Once up there she stores the fall bin away and looks fondly at the pile of plastic tubs that hold wreaths and garland and lights and ornaments. Soon, she mouths at them.

She starts thinking about dinner as she makes her way back down the ladder. There’s chicken in her fridge somewhere, she’s pretty sure. Some solid protein would do Pero some good -

She’s four rungs from the bottom when her foot slips. The hand she flings out to steady herself misses, and with a yelp of surprise she tumbles backward -

And crashes into something solid and unyielding, something that lets out an annoyed grunt at the impact.

Pero.

He catches her before she can hit the ground, wrapping his arms around her and for a moment, she’s cradled against his chest. Even in just a thin shirt, he’s warm, and then he puts both hands on her waist and sets her back on her feet with hardly any effort at all.

Tessa clears her throat to cover her embarrassment at both falling and the heat that licks up her spine and floods her face at Pero’s fortuitous manhandling.

“Thanks,” she manages to squeak.

He grumbles something that may or may not translate to the world’s grouchiest “you’re welcome” before heading into the bathroom and shutting the door.

Right. What was she thinking about before?

Oh, yes. Dinner.

———

Half an hour later she and Pero sit down to chicken breasts wrapped with prosciutto and stuffed with goat cheese, and brussel sprouts sauteed in olive oil and soy sauce until charred and crispy.

Pero inhales the meal again in record time (“I wish I could get my niece and nephews to eat their veggies with half that enthusiasm,” Tessa remarks as he practically swallows a brussel sprout whole). The cuts on his forehead and hand have completely healed over, the skin still a bright new pink. What swelling he had in one eye had lessened, and the bruising around it has gone from inky black to fading yellow-green. All evidence of her brother’s influence.

Tessa makes Pero help her wash the dishes this time, which he does without audible complaint. For as much as she loves to cook, Tessa despises doing dishes, and it’s actually nice to have another pair of hands around to get the job done.

As though by some unspoken signal, Pero and Tessa decide to head to bed at the same time. They find themselves at the end of the hall, doors to their respective rooms across from each other. Tessa turns to Pero, wanting to say something, but she’s not sure what. Some reassurance, maybe, that her Aunt Moira will be here tomorrow and she’ll help figure out what to do next. That they will get him home.

But before she can, he reaches out and takes her hand in his own, swiftly lifting it up to brush his lips across her knuckles. He breathes some phrase against her skin, and she can just make out her name at the end before he releases her and steps away, looking as surly as ever, like he’s a little angry with himself for what he’s just done.

“Goodnight, Pero,” is all Tessa is able to murmur in reply, her throat gone suddenly dry, and he gives her a tiny nod before turning away and disappearing into the guest room.

She shuts her own door behind her, leaning back up against it and letting all the breath in her lungs out in a big whoosh.

When she finally falls asleep that night, Tessa dreams of dark eyes and soft lips on her skin.

Chapter 3.

—————————————————————

a/n: Remember how I said all recipes I mention in this story are from Smitten Kitchen unless otherwise noted? Prosciutto-wrapped stuffed chicken is from Chrissy Teigen, and the brussel sprouts are how I make them. 😊

Tagging interested parties (some of you have explicitly asked to be tagged, while others just indicated they’re interested in reading where this story goes, so if you would not like to be directly tagged, please let me know!): @littlemisspascal @prostitute-robot-from-the-future @whataperfectwasteoftime @oonajaeadira @bunniesofsteel @jazzelsaur @ezrasbirdie @kiizhikehn-cedar @hopeamarsu @iamskyereads @thosewickedlovelies @theredwritingwitch

[shurisneakers]

harmless (vii)

Summary: Bucky volunteers to go stop a small time villain, but nothing can prepare him for what exactly he has to deal with. (Bucky x villain!reader, drabble series)

Warnings: cursing, existential crisis, frustrated bucky, dramatic reader, lil bit of angst, clint barton being a lil shit

Word count: 3.4k

A/N: hey shoutout to @ugherik for suggesting a spin on the “A PLATYPUS!??!“ [perry puts his hat on] “PERRY THE PLATYPUS!???” thing. i used it in here, it’s a really small part and probably missable but i tried!! also i like the next chapter better than this one, i just wanted to put this here so it doesn’t seem abrupt <3333

here’s

my ko-fi

if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Series Masterlist

Bucky can’t stop staring at the mirror.

He wishes it was for narcissistic purposes. He had enough reason for it to be. His age may be a hundred but he had the youthful exuberance of a very drained sixty year old.

But no, it wasn’t because of the steel cut jawline or thousand gigawatt smile.

After last week’s mini-spiral, he does what almost half the videos on TikTok warn him not to do.  

He got a haircut.

Everyone’s reaction stopped him from following it up with an ear piercing, but he can’t confidently say he didn’t at least consider it once. Maybe a neck tattoo. 

He pulls at a lock of hair. It’s not even longer than his finger.

What did he do-

“It’s just a haircut, man,” he says to no one in particular, almost like he’s trying to reassure himself.

He runs his hands through his hair. It takes lesser time than he was used to.

Steve had told him he looked good. But then again, Steve wore a fugly costume 90% of the time, what did he know?

Clint acknowledged it and didn’t outright call him ugly, which he supposed was a compliment. Wanda simply smiled at him.

“FRIDAY?” he reaches out.

“Yes, Sergeant Barnes?” comes the automated reply.

“How are you?” It took him some getting used to her, given that she was constantly listening to everything, and in general seemed to go against the universal idea of privacy. 

But his therapist told him he needed to form friendships. 

She didn’t mention it had to be human ones.

“As good as ever. Is there anything I can help you with?”

He wants to ask her what she thinks of his hair until he realises fashion advice from a faceless AI is a new low for him. Maybe ‘Do you think I should crawl into a pit and die?’ would be more appropriate. 

“Never mind,” he dismisses instead. “Any messages for today?”

“A reminder to buy a harder bed because you can’t keep sleeping on the floor.” Ah, that was on Sam’s recommendation three months ago, but he wasn’t going to stop any time soon. “And a text from a contact named Nuisance saying to meet them at the attached location in thirty minutes.”

“Where is the location?”

“The local sports centre.”

“Isn’t that closed today?” 

If he had to go out in public looking like this, maybe he could wear a cap and sunglasses and no one would recognise him. Unfortunately, as he was reminded several times before by anyone with an iota of common sense, it was a stupid disguise. 

Beanie it was, then. Bare minimum. 

“It is, yes.” Fewer citizens to worry about.

“Okay.” He hesitates in front of the mirror again, adjusting the hat on his head. “Thank you, FRIDAY.”

“You’re welcome, Sergeant.”

He stares at the little tuft of hair at the front that refused to stay down no matter how much he shoved it back.

“Come on, man,” he exhales in slight despair. “Whatever.”

____

The lock of the door leading to the pool is easy enough to pick. He can see how you got in without a hitch even though it was closed. 

The deck around the pool was absolutely drenched in water. No one was using it, there was no reason for water to splash out unless it was deliberately kept like this.

He catches sight of you easily, being that you’re the only two people there. You were standing at the end of the hall, head ducked as you scrolled through your phone.

The door closes behind him with a soft thud.

You don’t look up from your mobile when you start talking, “What do you think 6 year olds like?”

Because James Barnes, carbon dated to 1917 and therefore certified young person, would definitely know the answer to this question.

“I don’t know. Lego?”

“Just how much money do you think a teacher makes-”

You stopped mid-sentence, finally lifting your head to catch his eye. He stares back at you, steps faltering when you don’t move.

"Who are you?" you squinted.

What

"It's me," Bucky says, tugging off the dumb beanie and using it to gesture vaguely towards himself. Fuck, he shouldn’t have worn it, it was ridiculous anyway-

"You sound like him..." You narrow your eyes. “You don't look like him.”

Great

He rolls his eyes before putting on a mock scowl. Can't have Bucky Barnes without a sense of eternal disgruntlement.

"Oh hey, that is you." You grin. "You got a haircut."

“I did.” He suddenly feels the awkwardness increase. His fingers fidget with the beanie.

“Nice.” You nod in acknowledgement.

He wants to hit himself at the words that just spill out before he could think about it. “You hate it.”

“I never said that,” you snort. “And since when does my opinion matter?”

“It doesn’t.” But now he wants to know what you think since he didn’t trust anyone else to tell him honestly.

“Must cut down on time in the shower, huh?”

It did.

He shrugs. He shoves the beanie into his back pocket.

“Was it a crisis haircut?” How did you kno- “Are you going to get bangs next time?”

“Shut up,” he says lamely, a dull burn in his cheeks. 

“I know a place where you can get hair dye for cheap. Not technically FDA approved, but I think purple streaks are a good place to start-”

“What are we doing here?” he interrupts, sighing.

“Skinny dipping. Take off your shirt, Barnes.” 

“Funny,” he says dryly, eyeing your shoes when you straighten up.

Ice skates.

“Fine, pants then.” You don’t make any effort to move from your end so he does, walking closer to you. 

“What are those for?” He doesn’t hide the annoyance from his voice when he points at your feet.

“Oh, these?” You look down at them. “Yeah, I’m going to freeze the pool.”

That seems... mild compared to the shit show you wanted to do last time.

“For?” He halts where he is. 

“’M gonna take my friends ice skating.”

“Is that all?” He wants to make a comment about the fact that you have friends but bites it back.

“Today is just a trial run. Tomorrow I’m gonna go freeze the East River.” There it is.

“The East River is not your personal ice skating rink.”

“Not yet it isn’t.” You lift up a middle finger.

It was too early for you to flip him off, even by your standards.

He raises an eyebrow.

Your face scrunches in confusion. You follow his gaze to your finger. “Oh yeah, no, that’s a freeze ring.”

Only then he notices a ring around the finger. From where he was standing he could make out the blue stone that adorned it.

“Joy.” He rolls up the sleeves of his black bomber jacket. “Let’s get this done with, then.”

“No no, wait.” You hold up your hand and he complies, having nothing to lose anyway. You pull out your phone and press a few buttons before shoving it back into your bag and tossing it aside.

The soft sounds of a piano start playing from a boombox near the corner of the room. A child starts singing following a series of knocks.

His eyebrows furrow. “What the fuck is this?”

“The Frozen soundtrack.” You beam at him. “I thought it was fitting.”

He doesn’t know what that is and at this point, he’s too afraid to ask. He can vaguely make out the lyrics being about a snowman but he isn’t too concerned.

He takes one step forward. You immediately point your fist at the ground in front of him, forcing him to jump back when a blast hits right in front of his shoes. Suddenly he gets why the floor is covered in water.

It sounds like a series of cracks as the water starts freezing over, a layer of ice now separating him and you.  

"You ready?” The mischief was woven in your voice as the blasts continued throughout the deck, effectively turning the entire floor into ice.

Bucky takes a step tentatively forward. Not bad. He takes another. Okay.

The third one is when shit starts to hit the fan. His hands shoot out to hold onto his balance when his footing slips from beneath him.

His Nike sneakers aren’t used to snow. They’re used to well manicured lawns and pavement trips to Starbucks and marble floors of the compound. Not swimming pool decks covered in ice.

He can hear you singing in the distance and every time he looks up you’re a little further away, making sure every inch of space is frozen.

It takes him a while to get over the initial fear of breaking his skull and just move forward swiftly with short steps. A goddamn penguin is what he looked like.

“There you go, you’re getting it,” you chirp as you whiz past him. He reaches out to grab at you, only to miss by an inch. He staggers, arms flapping wildly to regain his stability.

He hears crackling beside him. He gets a second or two to watch ice crystals spread through the water before turning it completely solid. You step onto the now frozen pool, testing your weight with one leg before cautiously getting on.

A triumphant smile emerges on your face. “Awesome.”

He manages to press himself against the wall as a form of support. 

There is no point to this whole thing. He knows this. It’s been well over 6 weeks and there is genuinely no point to this.

He realises it again when he moves from side to side, body erupting into a waddle. 

Why is he doing this. He doesn’t get paid extra. He doesn’t get any kind of compensation. All he gets is more wisecracking geniuses, embarrassment and the mortifying ordeal of getting caught imitating a penguin.

The song changes to a woman singing about doing something for the first time, forcing him to pay attention to it. He hears something about ball room and balls and tunes right back out.

Bucky manages to find his way to the actual pool since that’s where you’re twirling around, opting to land on his mental arm in case things go wrong. He takes a sliding step forward, followed by another. Maybe he can do this. 

“If a 200 pound super soldier can stand on this, I suppose it’s strong enough,” you muse, watching him slip and slide as he tries to invent makeshift ice skating.

Unfortunately, his method doesn’t have any brakes, so while he’s too busy trying to move forward, there’s no way to actually stop. He finds this out very soon when he almost launches himself off the edge of the pool.

Something yanks him backwards and back onto the ice.  

“Honestly, this is utterly useless since you can’t really do anything but it’s the most fun I’ve had all week,” you admit when he goes sliding towards the middle, arms flailing.

“You had to pick fuckin’ ice of all things.” He thinks that maybe he’s getting a hang of this. He can definitely move faster than what he was doing like, 10 minutes ago. It’s not like you were going anywhere, anyway. 

“I like to keep things spicy.”

He stays where he is to glare at you. You mouth the words to the song, watching his every move whenever it interested you. 

Okay, change of plan; a temporary distraction till he figures out how to actually get the ring from you. He settles on skating towards the edge of the rink slowly, taking a step off, slipping almost immediately when his foot comes in contact with the deck. 

“Where are you going?” you yell over the music initially but immediately break into song when it ends in a crescendo.

He takes a knee, lifting his metal arm up before driving it into the ground. It shatters magnificently, leaving small shards of ice at his disposal. 

He picks up one of them, waiting for you to complete your dumb twirl. He takes aim, and-

“Ouch, what the fuck?” You stop your off key singing to rub your shoulder where the ice hit you.

He wordlessly picks up another piece to throw at you, hitting you squarely in the leg.

“Stop that!”

He may not be able to move as fast but he can definitely throw. 

“Give me the ring,” he commands, stretching his arm behind his back before releasing another piece to hit your forearm. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” There’s nowhere you can skate to avoid his stupidly good marksmanship. 

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” He shrugs, breaking another patch of ice to replenish his ammo. “Hand over the ring.”

“Over my dead body,” you shriek when a particularly big piece lands next to your feet. You knew he missed that shot on purpose.

“I feel like I’m finally acting my age,” he says casually, finding your darting about in order to avoid him more fun than he initially thought. “Can’t throw pebbles at meddling kids so this is the next best option. Thanks.” 

“If you acted your age you’d be in a casket, Barnes,” you hissed, finding that skating in zig zags helped your cause, but not by much. “I’d be- you bitch- I’d be more than happy to help you get there.”

You raise your arm, ready to send another blast to freeze the water that was starting to melt around him, hopefully, keep him where he was if it froze around him. 

He flinches. You notice immediately, hand dropping slightly when you realise what it looked like.

“I’m not gonna freeze you,” you say, softer than you intended. From what you knew, he had enough and more experience with that and you weren’t going to contribute to it. 

He swallows thickly, giving himself a little shake of his head as if to jolt him out of his train of thought. 

Another piece of ice hits you in the leg. You let out a string of curses at him.

“The more ice you make, the more I have to throw at you, Y/N.” He waits for you to regain your balance when you nearly take a stumble. 

“Shut up, you’re so immature.”

“Remind me whose plan this was again?” No point waiting for you to regain your balance when you fall over only a few seconds later. 

He gathers a few shards in his beanie, tucking it into his belt like a little makeshift rucksack just in case before venturing out on the main rink again. 

It’s more difficult for you to stand without railings to guide you, giving him enough and more time to make his way towards you, staggering and skidding. 

Both of you looked ridiculous. 

“Stay away, fiend.” 

“Ring first.” He holds his hand out in front of you. He even considered pulling you up if you just made things easier.

Next thing he knows he’s on his ass on the ice beside you. 

“I hate you,” he groans, watching as you inch away from him on your knees.

He doesn’t really have any other options so he shoves aside the humiliation and gets on his knees, using his arms to drag him along the ice.

“For the love of Christ, none of us are winning here. Just give me the ring.”

The bitch from the soundtrack sings about letting it go but he won’t. 

“Never,” you shout, sliding away from him as fast as possible. 

You make use of the fact that the top layer of ice is starting to melt, using the ring to freeze it again. His knees and fingers get stuck as the water freezes over but he has super strength. It barely takes him a second to free himself. 

“Great,” he huffs, just settling down on the ice, ignoring the sting of cold that was spreading through his limbs. Running after you wasn’t going to work; he needed a way to get the ring. 

“You won last time, I’m not letting you win again.”

“Are we seriously keeping score?” He watches as you scramble towards the edge.

“No one likes a loser, Bucky.” You use the pool stair railings to pull yourself up.

“Explain why you have friends then.” He can’t help himself this time. 

“Hardy har har.” You roll your eyes. 

He doesn’t make an effort to move. Instead, when you take a step back into the rink, he raises his arm and pummels it into the ice, just to annoy you. 

The ground damn near shakes, pushing you dangerously towards losing your balance again. 

“Are you crazy?” Your arm shoots out in front of you to keep you from falling headfirst. 

“No.” He does it again. This time there’s a crack in the ice. “I’m just very tired.”

“If the ice breaks we’re both gonna be underwater, you moron!”

“Fine by me.” He shrugs. “Freeze it again. I’ll just find different ways to ruin it for you.”

You glare at him. He raises his arm above his head again.

“Fine! Fine, stop.” You eye him as he lowers his arm. 

He reaches for his stash of ice pieces from earlier, throwing one at your shoulder again.

“Boy, I swear if you don’t stop doing that-” you duck when another one comes at you. You had no idea he could be this annoying. 

It suddenly hits him, like a lightbulb going off in his brain. He wipes his hands off on his jacket, getting on all fours before slowly managing to pick himself up again. 

He looks at you, tilting his head slightly like he was studying you.

“What?” you ask suspiciously, eyeing as he starts inching closer towards you. “What are you thinking?”

It’s like watching a newborn deer stumble its way through the world, albeit more gracefully, until he starts picking up speed. The motherfucker was going to mow you down.

The skates are useful but not so much when an extremely determined bumbling oaf is barrelling towards you, his speed beginning to match yours even without equipment. 

You don’t know why you’re running, you don’t know why he’s chasing after you but when you see the end of the pool you take a sharp left only to have him knock right into you, sending you both sprawling.

You land half on top of him, breaking your fall but it doesn’t stop the very loud groan that escapes your mouth. He’s already in the process of sitting up straight, giving you less time to analyse what just happened.

“What the fuck was that for?” you speak through gritted teeth. “Fuckin’ acting like the both of us have free healthcare.”

“You refused to give up.”

“So your plan was to tackle me like a quarterback?” You threw your hands up.  

“One part of it.” He drags himself to the edge, away from you. 

“There's more to your monkey brained plan?” He doesn’t look at you. The ice around the pool has more or less melted, letting him gain proper footing on the floor before he stands up. 

“Oh, yeah.” He turns to you. “The other’s a trick I stole from Stark.”

Bucky holds up the ring. Your jaw slightly drops, eyes searching your finger for the now missing piece of tech. 

“Suppose that’s two points for me?” 

You’re impressed. You also want to stab him. So you do the next best thing.

“When I imagined you holding a ring in front of me, the circumstances were very different,” you comment.

“Bye, Y/N.” He spins on his heel, not even giving you a second’s worth of reaction. You found it amusing.

He heads towards the door, clothes all wet. He empties out melted ice water from his beanie before stuffing it into his pocket. Just when he’s about to leave, you remember something. 

Do you mean it genuinely or just because it has an effect on him? 

“Just for the record, Barnes, about your hair-” you call out, earning his attention from over his shoulder. “I think you look really good either way.”

The world may never know. 

You swear you can see the corners of his lips quirk upwards before he turns around again. 

He slips on a block of ice, cursing and clenching on to the door to keep him upright, quickly yanking it open and leaving before he has a chance to embarrass himself further.

Smooth.

Next part

[fruitcoops]

Night Changes

This isn't based on an ask, but I've had some early-Cap ideas brewing and think about the first time the team heard him laugh a lot. His and James' friendship is so sweet in SW--the beginning of it must have been such a shock to them both. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

So maybe James had bitten off more than he could chew. It wasn’t the first time, to be sure, but coaxing (read: drag kicking and screaming) his new teammate out of the carefully-constructed mosaic of scowls that made up his entire personality was proving to be a little more challenging than he previously expected. With most rookies, all it took was some elbow grease and overenthusiastic inclusion in group events to get them to open up—with his brand-new soon-to-be best friend, he had to handle things a little more delicately.

Sirius Black was a puzzle wrapped up in one of those freaky code-breaking machines from World War Two Lily liked to talk about. He was one of the best hockey players James had ever seen, but off the ice he seemed to shut down. The intense focus on his face smoothed out into almost perfect neutrality, and in the four months since he joined the Lions, he had never once smiled for real in front of the team. He sat in his stall and padded up in silence, then went out and kicked ass before following Pascal home like a living shadow.

Naturally, James took it as a personal mission to pry Sirius Black’s closed-off persona open like a stubborn oyster. He tried including Sirius in group events—the rookie went along with a quiet “yeah, sure”, but sat at the table and nursed a single drink for the entire night. He tried getting into friendly banter with him on the ice, but it was like Sirius had never joked with anyone in his life. Hell, he even tried finding him a girlfriend, which tanked harder than the goddamn Titanic.

“Rookie!” James shouted down the hallway.

Sirius jumped and turned around, obviously confused. “Me?”

“Yes, you,” James laughed, jogging over to toss an arm over his shoulders. “What’s up?”

“Not much.”

He waited for Sirius to continue, then rolled his eyes and gave him a friendly shake. “C’mon, man, how was your weekend? Has Dumo coerced you into being a stay-at-home babysitter yet?”

Sirius’ frown deepened. “What? I come with him to practice every day.”

Change tactics, change tactics— “Got any plans for Friday?”

James knew the answer, of course; it was always no or not yet or a simple shake of the head. If he was a less observant man, he would have assumed Sirius didn’t actually want to hang out with the team. But the longing looks toward their easy rhythm and the way he always tilted himself toward locker room conversations told a different story. “None yet,” Sirius said with a shrug.

James gave him a friendly slap on the back. “Good, ‘cause I’m having a party at my place and you’re not allowed to miss it.”

“Why not?”

“Because I want you to be there, duh.” The bewilderment didn’t fade from Sirius’ face, but beneath it—well, maybe James was just seeing things, but he looked almost hopeful. He ruffled Sirius’ hair and headed for the locker room. “Friday at five, rookie! I’ll be waiting!”

--

The week passed in a slog of practices and cold weather. Sirius clammed up more and more as the party drew closer, but James didn’t miss the way his eyes flickered between the rest of them like he was analyzing a play. He would make one hell of a captain someday, if he could just relax a little.

“Hey, rookie, want a ride?” he asked when the big day finally arrived.

“Don’t you want to go home and set up first?” Sirius’ brow furrowed. For an eighteen-year-old kid, he was awfully thoughtful. James couldn’t wait to see him let loose a little. “I wouldn’t want to get in your way.”

“It’s a yes or no question,” he teased, poking the bit of exposed shoulder through the widening hole in Sirius’ under armor.

“I…” He faltered, then the corner of his mouth twitched up. It was the closest thing James had seen to a smile from him yet. One point for Potter. “Sure, Pots. Thanks.”

“No problem. Meet me at my car in five or so, yeah?”

“D’accord.”

“Oho, fancy French,” James laughed, turning back to unlace his skates.

It wasn’t until thirty seconds after Sirius left the room that he remembered he never told the rookie what his car looked like. Horrible, terrible visions of the poor guy wandering around the parking lot—or, god forbid, thinking James had left without him—flashed through his mind. It would undo everything he had been working so hard to build.

“Shit,” he hissed under his breath as he shoved his gear into his duffel with reckless abandon and hurried out of the locker room. His legs would be stiff from trying to run so soon after a grueling drill practice, but it was worth it to save his friend. “Rookie? Hey, Sirius, you still here?”

There was no response. James cursed again and made a beeline for the door to the parking lot. Please, God, don’t let him get lost. I need him to trust me.

“Oh, thank fuck,” he panted as he burst out onto the half-frozen concrete.

Sirius looked up from his phone with a strange expression. “Are you okay?”

“Thought I lost you for a sec.”

“You said to meet at your car, yes?” He glanced between James and the car in sudden worry.

“Yeah, yes, absolutely, I just—” He made an aborted gesture and dug his keys out of his pocket. “I realized I forgot to tell you which one is mine.”

Sirius blinked at him. “I know what your car looks like.”

“How?”

“Because you drive it here every single day and you gave me a ride three weeks ago.”

‘Dumbass’ went unsaid, but James could feel it hanging in the air. He coughed lightly. “Right. Anyway, you can toss your bag wherever and hop in the passenger seat. My place isn’t far from here.”

Sirius took his duffel as he unlocked the car and settled both in the trunk with more care than James’ poor, battered bag had ever seen in its life. That was another thing that confused him about Sirius Black—he was so careful. He walked quietly for someone so tall, and each movement seemed pre-planned.

Each movement, that is, until he tried to get in the car. “Uh, Pots?”

“That’s m—oh.” James covered his mouth to stifle his laughter as Sirius tried to fold himself into the passenger seat and failed miserably. “I’m sorry, my girlfriend was sitting there last. Uh, there’s a lever on your right—yeah, there, just give it a pull and—”

With a harsh ka-chunk, the seat slid all the way back. Both men froze. It took everything in James’ power not to burst out laughing at the deer-in-headlights shock on Sirius’ face.

“Yep, that one,” he managed. “Nice job.”

They drove in relative quiet—James chattered on about weekend plans and hummed to the radio while Sirius watched out the window with the occasional monosyllable response. It took James a bit by surprise how comfortable he was, even without a steady stream of banter. Sirius might have been stubborn and silent and determined to foil all James’ plans at getting him to socialize, but he was calming to be near, like an anchor on unsteady water. Despite his overall quiet air, he was obviously paying attention to every word that left James’ mouth.

“You’re a good guy, y’know that?” he said as they turned onto his street. Sirius glanced over in surprise. “Most people tune me out within, like, five minutes.”

“I’m a good listener.”

James opened his mouth to respond, then paused. “Was that—Sirius Black, was that a joke?”

Something akin to mischief—mischief!—crossed his face. “Maybe.”

“Were you roasting me?” James gaped at him. “Oh my god. The guys are never gonna believe this.”

“Probably not.”

“You sick bastard. They won’t believe me.”

“You can give it a shot,” Sirius said with a shrug as the engine turned off. Pieces began to connect in James’ head as he stared, incredulous, at the rookie he thought would never even crack a smile. Four months of work had not been wasted, as he had feared; every joke, every one-sided conversation, and every attempt to get Sirius involved had been seen and heard and taken to heart. When he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he had ever seen Sirius actively agree to something unless James asked personally.

“We’re friends,” he said aloud, too surprised and too happy to hold it in. Not friends in the way James was with the rest of their loud, over-the-top teammates, but friends all the same.

“Well, yeah,” Sirius said as if it was obvious.

James unbuckled his seatbelt and socked him lightly on the shoulder, barely suppressing a shriek of excitement. “Love you, man. Grab your shit, we’ve got a party to set up.”

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

As much as it pained James to say it, having someone around who was six-foot-three was a huge help. There was no blow to his pride as he dragged Lily’s stepstool out; no grudging acceptance that he simply couldn’t reach those last two inches on the wall. Instead, he could foist any and all responsibility on his brand-new best friend in the whole wide world and focus on the things that mattered, like putting anything breakable or important far away from the grubby hands of his inebriated teammates.

His success was still ringing in his ears when the guests finally arrived—throughout the evening, James rode the high of accomplishing his mission to pull Sirius Black into his tight-knit circle. Every minute of those four months was worth it.

Midnight came and went, and by one-thirty in the morning James’ cramped living room was packed with tipsy hockey players in a vague imitation of a circle. “Non, non, I’ve gotta good one,” Dumo said, hiccupping. The room fell quiet as he leaned forward. “What do you call a body of water with a chicken in it?”

“What?” Kasey whispered, starry-eyed like a kid at Christmas.

“A swimming pool.”

The room stayed quiet, and then someone started to laugh. Slowly, they all turned to the source of the noise, and James felt a ripple of shock roll through the team as Sirius snorted. “It’s a swimming pool,” he said around a smile, his accent thick from three drinks. He had a nice laugh; James could get used to hearing it. “Like—poule, like chicken?”

His whole face was alight with happiness. James wasn’t sure whether to cry or cheer. That’s what I’ve been waiting for, he thought. That look, right there. Sirius fit in among the group like a missing piece of their puzzle, snickering away as if he hadn’t been stoically silent a day in his life. His laugh was downright bubbly.

“I don’t think they get it,” Dumo said into the rim of his cup.

Sirius shook his head, trying to catch his breath. “D’accord, so—so ‘chicken’ in French is poule, yeah? So a chicken in a body of water is a swimming poule. Do you get it now?”

A few oh’s of understanding washed over them, but several people continued to stare. “Too drink for this,” Sergei grumbled, though James could see the smile pulling at his mouth as Sirius turned to him with bright eyes.

“But it’s funny!” Sirius protested, so earnest it made James’ heart hurt.

“I think it’s funny, rookie,” he assured him with a clumsy pat on the arm. “And it’s my house, so I say Dumo gets a point this round.”

Kasey hiccupped. “Hey, anyone who makes the rookie laugh gets points in my book. No offense, dude.”

“None taken,” Sirius said, though his cheeks were pink.

James nudged him with his shoulder as Talker started a knock-knock joke. “It’s okay,” he said under his breath.

Sirius picked at the label on his cup. “I know I haven’t been very social,” he muttered.

“It’s okay,” James insisted. “It always takes rookies a while to warm up, so we’re just glad you’re happy. I’m glad my best friend is having a good time at my party.”

A heavy silence fell between them as Sirius looked over, eyebrows raised. “Best friend?”

“What, like you didn’t see this coming?” James slung an arm over his shoulder. “Yes, you French-Canadian nerd, you’re my best friend. And that means I’m your best friend, and there’s no take-backsies.”

“What the hell is a take-backsie?” Sirius laughed. “Did you make that up?”

James grinned. He had the feeling this was the beginning of an excellent friendship.

[mercy-burning]

Heatwave

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: The air conditioning is out at the BAU, so things get very hot—in more ways than one. Category: Smut 18+ (penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie / minor breeding kink, sex in an elevator) Warnings: Sex, language (As always, if there’s anything I missed, please let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 3.7k

MASTERLIST

***

"Oh, fuck, that's it!"

The exclamation nearly knocked Spencer off his feet. He would know her voice anywhere, so he didn't have to look to know that it was Y/N, but he looked anyway, sure enough spotting her on the opposite end of the bullpen, sorting through files at her desk.

If Hotch was any closer, he would have given her a warning look to signal his distaste for her swearing in the office, but his door was shut while he talked with someone so it never came.

"Wha—what did you find?" Spencer got out after clearing his throat to compose himself. It was bad enough he had already been distracted by her before, thinking about what it would be like to feel her hands weaved through his hair as she kissed him, but then she had to say that sentence of all things, slightly enhancing the fantasy.

It also didn't help that the air conditioning in the building was currently out, and in the middle of August. So when he looked up, he saw a low-cut, baby pink tank top with lace detailing on the hem, and a pulled-up hairdo that perfectly exposed her neck, which was currently glistening in a thin sheen of sweat. The way she leaned back in her chair, her legs crossed under a loose, knee-length floral skirt as she mulled over her file was giving him too many bad ideas, and it was a wonder he hadn't been caught or called out yet—everyone could always tell when he was thinking or off in his own world.

"Oh," Y/N said, briefly craning her head to meet his eyes. It took everything he had not to shudder when their gazes finally met. "I just misplaced one of my files, that's all. I was afraid I'd lost it. But it's right here," she said with a nervous laugh. "I didn't... bother you did I?"

"Oh! N—no, you didn't bother me at all, I... I was just wondering, that's all. I—I'm glad you found your file." He hated that he stumbled over his words, but when she looked at him like that, that sickeningly sweet kindness in her eyes that never wavered when she talked to him, he couldn't help it. She was easily the most intimidatingly angelic presence he'd ever met, in every capacity possible.

Even as she quickly frowned and shifted slightly in her chair, her eyes didn't lose that sparkle. But it was still evident that she was uncomfortable, so Spencer spoke again. "Are you okay?"

She set the file down on her desk and sat up straighter, bringing her back up off the chair as she uncrossed her legs. "Yeah, I'm fine, it's just the heat. I hate it. I'm definitely more of a cold, rainy day-type of girl, I guess."

Odd, considering you're just about the warmest soul I've ever met, he thought. Even as she talked about her distaste for the heat, she kept her voice light and her eyes kind.

"Hmm," is all he said, shortly and barely loud enough for her to hear.

The rest of the day seemed to pass by rather quickly, which Spencer was thankful for; the longer the day moved forward, the hotter it got, and it proved to be more distracting than he wanted to admit.

But soon he would be able to go home and take a cold shower, for one thing to cool off, but for another to relieve some of this feeling Y/N had been making him feel. He tried really hard throughout the day not to look at her, but he always found himself drawn to her anyway, and each time it happened he thought of dirtier and dirtier things, scenarios that he was positive could only happen in his wildest dreams.

But as usual, things didn't seem to work in his favor today. Just as he and Y/N were about to get onto the elevator, Hotch walked by, calling to them. "Sorry to ask you guys of this, but could you stay another hour or two? There are more files I need to get sorted, and I know it's hot, so I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but it would be helpful if I had an extra set of hands."

Two more hours at most, he could manage that, right? And at least he'd have more files to keep him occupied, something to focus on.

Hotch sent them to the file room with a list of the files he needed, and then it was just the two of them, stepping onto the elevator and sealing their fate.

It wasn't four seconds after the elevator started moving that it stopped and the lights inside dimmed red.

"Wait, what's happening?" Y/N asked, slightly panicked.

Spencer was just as puzzled. "I... I'm not sure. Maybe it has something to do with the heat?"

About a minute passed before she sighed, shoving her phone in her bag. "Yeah. Just got a text from Garcia, the power in the building shut down so they could fix the air conditioning. It's gonna take like a half hour."

"A—A half hour? Really?" He tried not to show how nervous it made him, but truthfully he didn't think it would work.

Y/N sighed. "Yeah... It's... fine, though, I mean, maybe someone will try to get us out."

"But we're in between two floors..."

Another sigh. "And it's hot as hell in here. Great... So much for going home early."

Spencer snuck a glance over at her, almost immediately regretting it when he looked her over. Under the deep red glow of the emergency lights, she looked absolutely sinful. Her bag was dropped on the ground and she leaned against the wall, her arms crossed and pushing up her breasts. Her head was leaned back and her eyes closed as she took deep breaths, no doubt trying to stay as calm as one could be in this situation. He noticed every breath she took, her chest rising and falling and her skin glowing. And in that moment he embarrassingly felt something stir in his lower stomach, only made worse by the fact that it was, as she'd phrased it, 'hot as hell' in the elevator. He was hot and practically squirming as he stood there, ogling Y/N like she was the only woman he'd ever seen before.

As if it couldn't get any worse, she opened her eyes quickly and caught him staring at her chest. He didn't seem to notice because, well, his eyes were elsewhere, so she closed them once more and smirked to herself for the briefest of seconds, an idea striking her brain like a match.

She brought her arms to slowly un-cross and stretch outwards to her sides, arching her back and puffing out her chest as she gripped the rail of the elevator. The moment she opened her eyes, she saw that Spencer's head was directed pointedly to the floor. She smiled a little, keeping her arms stretched out across the rail as she took him in.

The first thing she took notice of was how his hair stuck to his face, wavy and damp with sweat. His fingers tapped against his legs, and that's what she looked at the longest. Every time his middle finger tapped the outside of his thigh, she imagined that he was doing it to her clit, and she could practically feel it throb to the slow, steady beat of his finger. Her hands gripped the rail tighter and she crossed her legs, contemplating whether or not she should take advantage of this moment to finally do something about this tension she'd been feeling between them for the past year and a half.

The truth is, she'd always had a crush on him since they started working together. But when she started her job at the BAU, he was... a little odd. Every time she would join in conversation, he'd made it a point to look almost inconvenienced by her presence. At first she had to wonder if maybe he just didn't like her. And if that was the case, she didn't want to make it worse by asking him about it, so she left it alone. But then she noticed how he was like that with everyone, and then over time he seemed to get better. Eventually he warmed up to her and the two of them became fast friends. He'd quickly transformed from a guy who always seemed annoyed with everyone and into the adorably shy, brilliant man everyone had told her he was when she first got the job.

Now there had been almost two years' worth of a different kind of tension between them, and in this moment in the elevator, Y/N wanted to do something about it. Or at least try.

She thought for a moment, trying to find the best way to bring it up. Should she be straightforward? You know, flat-out tell him that she's liked him for a long time and wanted to kiss his face off? Or did she want to have more fun with it? Because she admittedly loved seeing him get flustered every time he noticed her noticing him staring at her, but if he really didn't feel the same way, she didn't want to come on too strong and ruin this thing they'd built.

Ultimately, Y/N decided to try a little of both.

She cleared her throat to catch his attention. "Hey, Spence?"

When he looked up at her, his stomach flipped again. Fuck, she was just so breathtaking, her arms spread and her legs crossed like she was the queen of the elevator and he was trespassing just by being there. Her chin was tilted upwards, exposing more of her neck, and it almost made him fall over. "Y—Yeah?" he stammered quietly, trying and failing to sound calm.

"What should we do to pass the time? I'm bored."

If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn he she was suggesting they— No. There was no way. He'd been a total jerk to her when they first met, and even though they were much friendlier now, Spencer wasn't sure she could ever want to do anything like that with him.

Right?

"Um... I—I don't know. Your phone works, doesn't it? Do you, um... Do you have anything you could do there?"

She shrugged, tilting her head to the side. "Battery's almost dead, and I want to save it in case something happens and we get stuck in here for longer than thirty minutes... I was thinking, actually... We haven't really gotten to know each other that well, and maybe would play... like 20 Questions or something."

"Oh..." He swallowed, shifting on his feet and blinking. "Well, um... W—what do you want to know?"

"Hmm... Favorite color?" She knew it was purple, but she wanted to hear him talk. Get him comfortable.

"Purple. What's yours?"

She leaned forward off the rail a little, and Spencer swallowed again, suddenly feeling a burst of warmth through his body.

"Light pink," Y/N said softly, "like so light that it's almost white."

He glanced down at her chest again, only for a moment to take in her shirt, which he'd remembered was the same color.

She continued. "What's your favorite snack food?"

"Pretzels."

"Me, too. Hmm... Favorite candle scent?"

"Peppermint."

"Spearmint. Favorite Star Wars movie?"

"Return of the Jedi."

"A New Hope. Favorite sex position?"

"Doggy."

She didn't say another word.

He wasn't even aware of the situation until about five seconds later, when she raised an eyebrow at him and his whole world came crumbling down.

As he visibly struggled to find words, Y/N only continued in conversation. "That surprises me. I would have thought you'd be more of a cowgirl guy."

If the way her voice sounded when she talked to him was the handle, then the way her eyes bore into his own was the blade, both of them coming together to create the weapon that would be his ultimate demise. The only thing missing was that twist of the blade, the one that would make sure he was gone for good, and the moment she leaned completely off the railing and took a small step towards him, he realized that final ingredient was her touch. If she touched him, he was done for.

"Aren't you gonna ask me what mine is? That's how the game works."

There's no way she wasn't flirting with him... Right? He was never good at picking up on those kinds of things, but she was being so obvious about it, stepping closer and closer to him with her chest puffed out and her head tilted to the side to reveal her neck. She was inviting him in, right? Especially after asking him to ask her that question.

That question...

Right.

"Um..." Spencer swallowed before speaking, his voice barely discernible. "What's... y—your favorite sex position?"

"Doggy. Especially standing up," she said with what was most definitely a flirty smile. "Looks like you and I have quite a bit in common."

"Y—yeah, I guess we... do..."

By now she had him backed against the other side of the elevator, and as soon as he felt his back hit the rail, he swallowed again, bringing his hand up to the collar of his shirt to relieve some of the heat he was feeling.

It didn't work, unsurprisingly.

"Look, if... If I'm overstepping, you should tell me. But I've liked you for a long time, and I feel like I'd be dumb to waste the perfect opportunity to tell you... So... The elevator probably won't be fixed for another twenty minutes at least, and since we're already on the subject... Maybe we should find another way to pass the time?"

Spencer noticed that she was careful not to actually touch him unless he gave her the go-ahead, and if anything it made him want her even more. She was giving him an out, and he knew that if he told her 'no', she wouldn't push it.

But here she was, in all her beautiful, radiant glory, practically inviting him to indulge in some of his biggest fantasies, and he would have to be brain-dead to pass that up. Even if he was a little nervous.

He tried to give her permission in a way that didn't make himself come off as some obsessed admirer, a shaky, breathy laugh exhaling from his throat before he spoke. "Well, it's already hot as hell in here, so... What's a little more heat?"

At first he regretted saying it, scared it was stupid and most definitely a mood-killer, but the way she practically lunged at him completely washed away all the worries written in the sand. And when her body pressed firmly against his, her lips coming to capture his in the most burning kiss he'd ever had, the waves crashed even stronger, loud with searing desire as warm as the August sun.

Immediately he brought his hands to cradle her face, loving the way he almost engulfed her with their size. He moved his lips against hers eagerly as her hands worked at unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt. She only got the first few done before pulling away, and despite the heat, Spencer felt cold without her pressed up against him.

It took a moment for him to realize what was happening, but when she suddenly turned them both around and bent forward, leaning out to grab the rail, he felt warm again.

She turned her head around to look at him with a smile through a bit bottom lip as she reached one of her hands under her skirt and slowly pulled her panties down. Almost as soon as they hit the floor, pooling around her ankles, she lifted the skirt up and revealed herself to him, slowly running her fingers through her pussy.

"It's all yours, Doctor Reid," she said lowly, spreading her legs as far as they could go with her panties still confining her ankles.

He hadn't even realized he'd undone his pants until they were at his feet and his dick was in his hand. How had she managed to have that great of an affect on him?

He promptly decided he didn't care how, as he stepped forward and brought himself up to her ass and ran the head of his cock through her pussy, briefly meeting her fingers as he did so. "Are you sure?" he asked. Because once he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. He already lost his mind just being in her presence, but being this close to her, fucking her in a broken elevator would surely hinder his ability to think about anything rationally, let alone at all.

"Fuck me, please," she all but begged, pushing herself back a little to encourage him. Either that or she was just desperate, though there was a good chance it was both.

In any case, that was all he needed, the trigger that set him off, and within seconds he was plunged deep inside her, the both of them softly moaning out at how it felt.

Spencer set a steady pace, his hands firmly gripping her waist as she pushed back to meet his every move. Each thrust forward was another twist of the blade that sealed his fate, only made more brutal by the pure filth that dripped from Y/N's lips, a symphony of long, drawn out moans and curses that sounded just as loving as they did pornographic.

When she bent forward even more, so much that he could see her hands outstretched on the rail, it gave him the deepest angle he could possibly be at, and she clenched herself around him, calling out his name.

"Fuck, Y/N, keep doing that," Spencer breathed out, shutting his eyes at the sensation.

He could hear her laugh a little. "That feel good, baby? Huh, you like when my pussy clings to you?"

Each word was fuel that quickened his pace inside of her, and joined with the way his hands were wrapped around her, the very tips of his fingers felt her stomach bulge at every snap of his hips. He spread his right hand across her lower stomach to feel it, groaning out as he did.

He didn't even realize he'd said his next words out loud, but after she groaned out and clenched around him tighter, he knew she'd heard and liked what he was saying.

"God, I wanna cum inside you so fucking bad..."

She turned her head again to see him as best as she could, doing the most to come off as desperate as she felt. "Fuck, Spence, do it, please, I want your cum inside me, please..."

A few more quick thrusts inside of her was enough to make her cum, her mouth open in a silent scream as she stopped moving back against him and just let him pound into her. He followed closely behind, brokenly moaning out her name as he stilled and pulsated inside of her.

"Ohh, that's it," she said to him with wonder as she stayed clamped tightly around him, trying to get every last drop. "Fuck, that feels so fucking good..."

In a moment of blind lust at her words, Spencer pulled out just until only the tip was inside, before quickly and deeply fucking into her once more, holding himself inside for about five seconds as she cried out. He repeated that so many times he couldn't keep count. Or maybe it was only two times, and he was just to drunk on her to notice. However long he did it for, they both relished in the feeling before they were both overstimulated and out of breath.

While any other time he would have loved to see his cum drip down her legs, since they were at work he decided to lift her panties up instead, relishing in the way she whimpered when they were on all the way. He made sure to pull them up tight, so she could feel his cum soak them as she stood upwards.

He scrambled to put his pants back on as she caught her breath, leaning against the wall of the elevator with her legs crossed and her eyes closed. He watched her intently as her hand drifted under her skirt and rubbed herself through her underwear, letting out whimpers and ragged breaths upon feeling what he'd done to her. The sweat that had just started to form on her body earlier due to the heat was now dripping down her neck and over her chest, and he was once again mesmerized by her.

"God, you're beautiful," he whispered aloud. Of course he'd meant to say it to himself in his head, but he wasn't thinking straight. She'd utterly wrecked him.

Y/N opened her eyes and smiled, taking him in as well. His hair was wild, all over the place and just as sexy as she'd found it before. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, no thanks to her, revealing a glistening chest and making her pussy throb once more, knowing what they'd just done and how... hot the whole situation was, for lack of a better term.

As if she needed a reminder, more of his cum seeped into the fabric of her underwear, warm and ever present, which made her bite her lip and sigh. "Yep... Doggy is definitely my favorite position."

"Especially standing up," he added, a small smile adorning his lips.

They laughed as the elevator lights came back on, and the weight of what they'd just done came crashing down as with it.

Y/N shuffled to the other side of the elevator to grab her back, almost gasping at the way his cum felt in her panties when she moved. She was afraid it would come out, but there was nothing she could do to stop it except for hope.

The two of them were quiet when the door opened and Garcia met them in the lobby.

"Oh, thank God! I feel so bad I didn't warn you in time before you got stuck in th— Your faces are all red, geez! Was it really that hot in there?"

Thankfully the heatwave gave them both an alibi.

"Y—Yeah," Spencer said with a nod, stepping out of the elevator. "That's twice now I've been stuck in an elevator, and I really wish it would stop happening."

The girls laughed as the three of them made their way to cooler air.

Spencer and Y/N fell in step behind their friend and shared a knowing look as the approached the file room.

[chubbology]

Inertia

prompt: a man gains weight trying to get his ex-girlfriend back, but goes way too far and gets addicted to gaining

He hadn’t gone to the gym even once in ages.

After a year of singlehood, he wasn’t ashamed to admit anymore that he’d only really gone in the first place to impress women. Ironic, of course, since his ex had never been more than vaguely dissatisfied about his gym habit.

When they first started dating, he had love handles he hated and his thighs had been too thick. He assumed she dated him despite these flaws. Only after he lost weight to please her did he find out that it was his chub that caught her eye. It was bigger guys she was into. It was a lot of miscommunication. A lot of insecurity on his part, since what her preferences meant was that she wanted him to be a little heavy, and he couldn’t possibly accept that with his society-ingrained doctrines about attractiveness.

But those doctrines meant fuck-all now; he was eating a double cheeseburger in his car, helping it down with an orange soda, thinking about dessert. He was wondering if she’d be proud of him now that he’d gained thirty pounds. He wondered if she’d look at him with half-lidded eyes like she used to, if he put on another thirty. Fifty. Whatever.

His phone buzzes. He sits up straighter, belly swelling a little into his lap. It’s her.

Hey. My friend needs to sell her two tickets. I know it’s your favorite band. Interested?

The next text was a link to an information page about an upcoming concert. He’d been so disconnected lately, he hadn’t even heard about it.

Even though he wasn’t actually all that interested, he replied that he was, and they set a date to meet up the next week. Shit. He looked down at himself. If she were someone else, she might be repelled. But she wasn’t someone else…

He was hit with a brilliant, maybe brilliantly stupid, idea. It’s execution began with going right back through the drive thru.

In the days leading up to seeing his ex again, he ate almost constantly. Since he was only doing freelance online at the moment, his work didn’t get in the way of this. He let himself eat whatever he wanted, in amounts three times what his body craved. He pushed himself to a state of being constantly past full. She liked fat guys? Fine. Even if she still didn’t want anything to do with him, he wanted her to see what he could have been, if he hadn’t been such a gym-rat douchebag. If he’d let himself become a lazy, docile boyfriend like she wanted instead, weak and overweight.

It was hard, gaining a lot of weight in a week. The number on the scale didn’t go up as much as he expected, even though he’d eaten enough calories to gain twenty pounds at least. He compensated by showing up to their meeting spot wearing clothes that tightly hugged his body, which now had a good forty-ish pounds of fat clinging to it. Looking in the mirror before he left, he’d almost seen what she was into. His ass had gotten kind of wide and dumpy, but in a sexy way?

He was all nerves when she showed up looking healthy and cute and indifferent about him, holding the tickets in her hands. Almost indifferent. She definitely gave him a once-over, when she thought he wasn’t looking. He could tell she bit the inside of her lip.

“Well,” she said, meeting his eyes fearlessly. Were her cheeks a little red, or was that wishful thinking? “I’ll see you.”

“Really?” he blurted. “Kinda miss hanging out.”

She smiled and turned to leave. “Maybe.”

He went home and binged hard.

*

In contrast to how he grew too slowly in the week before meeting up with her, in the weeks afterward, he gained weight doubletime. Fat rounded him out as easy as if he were a swiftly filling water balloon, engorging his thighs and belly and ass and hips wide and heavy. He ate compulsively as his appetite skyrocketed, as cravings crushed his will to restrain himself. His budget was thrown out of whack as he spent his savings on pantry loads of unhealthy food. His clothes stretched and seams snapped as he struggled to fit in his largest clothes. He shopped in the plus sized section first for comfort, then by necessity.

All the while he could only think: I wished she was watching.

He started imagining her with him. In the car as he ate fast food. At the store as he bought new clothes. Walking beside him as he forced himself to get exercise.

“Slow down, big guy.” “No, I think you need one size bigger.” “Sweating already? You’re so out of shape.”

Why did he like it? Imagining her mocking him? Teasing him? Eyeing his body, fleshy and overfed.

The next time she texted, it was late at night, and his eyes were glazed watching television, eating huge spoonfuls of that miracle drug called Nutella. His belly swelled out of his shirt. His breasts and face were puffy. According to the numbers he punched into Google, he had long crossed the threshold of obesity.

How was the concert?

He stared at the words. This was it. Maybe his only chance. He replied: Didn’t go after all. Been feeling off lately.

To his (very manly) delight, this prompted more questions, and it became clear she wanted a real conversation. Was she thinking of him? Missing him like he missed her? He thought out every response with the careful focus of a rocket scientist. He wasn’t going to mess this up.

He didn’t seem to, and they texted into the early hours of the morning, catching up. Finally, finally she asked to meet up with him again, and - feeling more eager, a little reckless - he tapped out a disclaimer. Or to her, hopefully: motivation.

Just so you aren’t shocked when you see me, I’ve put on weight since I bought those tickets from you. I’m not sensitive about it or anything, but it’s a lot. So here’s a fair warning.

He held his breath as he waited for her reply. Held his breath. Held it…

Oh. Really?

Like before, they set a time the following week. This time, to get coffee. No big deal.

He knew he had more than fulfilled his little scheme of putting on weight to catch her attention, and he could push the breaks now, but he felt helpless against his inertia. At this point, he’d cultivated half a dozen habits that had his weight steadily rising, and he couldn’t just turn them off. If he so much as thought of eating less, his whole body seized up in fearful anticipation and unhappiness, and he found himself cramming a couple moonpies into his mouth just to calm down.

He gained another six pounds between their text conversation and their coffee date. He felt so out of control, so out of shape, so out of line with the standards of popular society that he felt oddly…free. In a way, he felt free of anxious self-consciousness as he heaved himself out of his car and waved at her through the coffee shop window. She was sitting in a corner at a table for two. Despite his warning, she looked a little shocked.

When he sat down across from her, his huge ass hanging off the ends of the seat, she appeared to inhale deeply. Her expression was inscrutable.

“You weren’t kidding,” she said.

Blushing, he supposed he deserved a bit of tactlessness, for the tactless way he broke up with her. “What? Oh. Yeah, no. I wasn’t.”

She sipped her coffee, eyes flicking between his flabby chest and his flabby face. In a low tone that no one else would hear, she said, “What happened? For you to get fat as fuck.”

He opened his mouth and closed it. This wasn’t how he was expecting this to go. “Well. I’ve been working from home, stressed out. I let myself go and…” He trailed off when he realized her eyes were cold. No - so hot they seemed cold, like his shower water when turned to the highest setting.

“Is this because of me?” she asked, cutting to the chase. She crossed her legs, now openly surveying him. “Did you decide it was okay to gain a hundred pounds because you thought I’d be into it?”

He was speechless. He swallowed.

“Well? Do you want me back that badly? Ever since I saw you last time, all chubbed out, I’ve been thinking maybe I should give you a second chance.”

“Um.”

“But I don’t know…” She shrugged, but a smirk was hiding just behind that indifferent frown, and he wanted. He wanted her forgiveness, whatever that meant. “How about you gain a hundred more and we’ll go on a real date? Sound good? You’re not the only fat guy out there.”

She was full-on grinning now, and he missed her little games like this. He could play them, too.

“Maybe, but I bet I’m the only guy who’s gotten this fat for you,” he said. She was immediately affected by this, and he licked his lips. “You really want to wait to see me a hundred pounds bigger than this, or do you want to stick around to watch?”

Even quieter, she said, “You saying you like gaining weight? How convenient.”

So she still doubted him. He put out his hands for her to see. “Just look. Look at how fat my hands are. I can’t…” And finally his composure cracked a little. “I can’t stop. I couldn’t stop if I wanted. Even if you never talk to me again, I’m gonna gain weight.”

Any playfulness was gone now from her. She looked like she wanted him, too. “Hmm. Maybe we should go before you break that poor chair, huh?”

He blushed again. God, he was getting docile. “I’m not that bad,” he muttered. But she gave him a cruel grin. She hadn’t entirely forgiven him. “You will be.”

And he knew then: he was doomed. He was already a little bit into his own heaviness, and she was going to take that feeling and amplify it tenfold. She was going to enable every bad habit he had, watch him flounder under his increasing size and become weaker under layers and layers of fat until he could barely lift a two pound dumbbell.

He knew she wanted this to happen, and maybe he’d broken up with her before because he’d been afraid.

But he wasn’t anymore.

“Let’s go then,” he said.

*

Thank you to the reader who commissioned this work!

I'd love to write more. Check me out <3 etsy.com/shop/Chubbology

[finelinevogue]

Can you do one where Harry take his children and YN to one of his concert and their just dancing around singing along on stage with Harry.

i love this concept so much!! i kinda of wanna make it sad though soooo it’s gonna be harry’s final show :/ hope you enjoy;

oli - 29, felix - 27, belle - 24

The concert had been amazing, but unfortunately it was coming to its’ end now.

The final show.

That’s what Harry had decided to call it; a clever play on words with reference to his first ever solo single. The last 50 years had been a rollercoaster for Harry, from growing up just a kid in Cheshire, to going on the X Factor and winning the hearts of millions and from being in the most successful band of the decade to going solo and still being absolutely beloved. Times had changed, though. Harry had changed. He had a beautiful family of 3 now, excluding his wonderful wife. His children were his universe, no question about it, but they were getting older now - Harry was getting older. He was 50 this year and with that in mind he’d decided to retire. Retiring had involved a long conversation with you, along with a bottle of red wine, about whether it was the right decision or not. But it was - is.

You had suggested he put on one final, massive show, to celebrate his life and his achievements along with all that the fans have too. Tickets were open internationally and it was being streamed on various TV outlets for those who couldn’t attend. The tickets sold within 47 seconds. 47 seconds. It was being held in the Olympic Stadium in London, because it was Harry’s home and it held the most number of people he could genuinely allow.

The concert had started with ‘Fine Line’ songs, which merged into HS1 songs with a few One Direction songs as well. The entire set list had been composed by the fans with various polls on social media, with the concert supposedly lasting 2 hours (although with support artists and a few extra surprises it was more likely going to be 3!)

It had been beautiful so far. Magical. Unforgettable.

Every chance he got, without making it grossly obvious, he looked at you. He'd told you to stick your thumbs up at him every time he caught your eye, so he knew that you were okay - and every time, you did.

The concert was coming to an end now, which everyone was dreading. How could +30 years feel like it'd only been thirty minutes? You were devastated, so you could only imagine what his fans were thinking.

"Hey!"

The end Kiwi, for the second time, strummed throughout the arena and you knew it was time for the final song. His final song.

"Mum, is this the end?" Belle asked you, from where she was standing next to you. You had been dancing together all night and gotten progressively more tired. Your feet hurt. Your throats burned. Yet, as always, it was so worth it.

"Yes, Belles, it is." You tell her, and she pouted sadly. "Dad won't want to see you sad love, okay? He can still sing to you before bed?" You teased her, reminding her of a time when Harry would do such a thing, not wanting her to be all sad. It was supposed to be a celebration, but even you could admit that is was pretty hard-hitting.

"Really mum?" She asked.

You booped her nose annoyingly, before answering. "Every night if you want him to."

The lights changed from their green tone, thanks to Kiwi, back to a bright, white light. It beamed on Harry, making him look even more like the angel that he is. He dragged his microphone back to the centre stage and took a deep breath for beginning a speech he'd told you he'd prepared.

"So this is it, my friends." He laughed sadly into the microphone. He brushed his hair back and took out his in-ears to hear the audience. They were all awwing and crying, but what else did you expect? Their favourite artist was retiring - who wouldn't be crying a river?

"I, um. I'd like to take a bit of time to thank certain people." He coughed, something he always did after performing Kiwi due to his asthma. You thought it was lovely that he'd planned a speech to thank his management and crew. They did so much work backstage and you definitely didn't think they got enough credit for their hard work.

"Okay. I've made a little list..." Harry pulled out a tiny bit of crumpled paper from his pocket. "Just in case I forget anyone." He joked to himself, but made everyone laugh anyways. "So I guess first off, I should start with you lovely people." He pointed around the whole stadium, showing he was talking about the fans. "What you have done for me is indescribable. I think to myself, everyday, am I worthy of even being here—"

"Yes!" An army of agreement echoed around the arena, making Harry stop, blush and smile to himself.

"Well thank you! Um. You have been the best fans ever, and I know you will continue to be. I know you don't owe me anything, but all I ask you to keep loving yourselves and treating people with kindness, because I know I can count on you lot to do that, for me." He sniffled at the end, making you bite your lip to prevent the tears from falling for you. He looked so vulnerable right now, but you knew he'd be feeling on top of the world.

"Jheez." He sniffles again. "That's one thank you down and i'm already crying." He looked to his band to share the joke with.

“Dad’s such a wuss.” Oli laughed, holding his arm around Beas waist, making the people around you chuckle in agreement.

“Shut up you - Mr-tears-in-your-eyes!” You pointed out, laughing as he flipped you the bird - which then got him a hit off his grandma Anne.

All of Harrys family and friends were here, in a special cornered off section. It was such a thoughtful thing for Harry to do. All his family, and a fair few of yours, were sat down along with Harrys closest friends. Everyone was sharing laughs and drinks, whilst using every inch of space to dance along to your husbands boastful music.

"Secondly, my touring family. From Jeff and Ben, to Sarah's Kitchen, Adam, Mitch, Sarah, Charlotte and Nyoh, not forgetting everyone backstage and behind the lights, music and cameras. You've all been the greatest. Everything you do is second to none. You're all talented, warm-hearted, people whom I will carry in my heart forever. Thank you." You noticed members of the crew and band starting to tear up now.

"Moving on to my boys. We've been through it all, lads, and I couldn't have asked for four better brothers than you all. Louis. Liam. Niall. Zayn. Thank you." Everyone cheered ten times louder, maybe because this was as close to a One Direction reunion as the fans were ever going to get, but definitely because Harry had mentioned Zayn. You saw a girl faint at the mere mention of all the boys in the same sentence. The boys lifted up their beers to Harry, stood close by to where you were standing.

"I guess I should say thank you to the women who made all this possible. Mum. Gem. Thank you for signing me up all those years ago. Thank you for believing in me. You've made me the - crap, sorry! - the man I am now and I love you both." Harry prayed to them both, whilst bowing, and swiftly wiped away the tears afterwards. Anne and Gemma, on the other hand, were proudly crying.

"Ol, Fix and Belles. You rascals make me get out of bed every morning and give me more of a purpose in life. You four give me so much joy and happiness. I love you all, even if you do drive me up the wall on an early Saturday morning! Thank you, my loves." You stood close to all your children, giving them the support they needed in this moment. Belle was crying against your chest, the ever-so-emotional woman she was. Felix was stood up, with Heather, with his drink raised to his dad. Oli was to your side, trying to remain cool and stoic, but you still caught the tears that ran down his face.

"Now." The audience calmed down again after awing over your babies. Harry cleared his throat before beginning again. "This evening keeps on reminding me of a very special person in my life. Someone who is my everything and that's my beautiful wife, Y/N." His words make your breath hitch in your throat. You never expected him to say anything about you. I mean, what had you done?

"Mum." Belle called out to you, in affirmation that this was real.

"She's more than just a wife. She's a lover. She's my muse. She's my best-fucking-friend, apologises for swearing but sue me. I was hesitant to let go of all this, at first. What would I do with myself now? You know? People tell me i'm 'happiest on stage', and for a time that was true. Until I met Y/N. She's made me realise that family makes me the happiest. She makes me the happiest." He jumped down off stage, taking the microphone with him. He ran his hands along the fans in the front row, but had no intention of stopping until he met you.

You felt Belle leaving your side, but you were too captivated by Harry to fully understand what was happening.

"So what am I going to do now, you ask? Well..." Harry cheekily smiled at you. "I'm going to make her the happiest woman alive, just as she makes me the happiest man." You began to cry again and the chorus of thousands of fans clapping and screaming surrounds you, only to all stop when his lips meet yours. He tasted like a combination of salty sweat and mint, but he was home. After a minute of crying, kissing and 'i love yous' , Harry ran back to the stage before Jeff could shoot him.

"Thank you all. All my love." He said whilst adjusting his microphone. "Please sing along if you know the words." He asked, full well knowing every single person will be screaming out the lyrics to him.

"Just stop you're crying it's the sign of the times. Welcome to the final show. Hope you're wearing your best clothes."

[prettybuckybaby]

zero to sixty, in three-point-five

read on ao3 here

18+

“Wanna…wanna f-fuck you,” Steve mumbles into Bucky’s chest one evening. They’re basking in the post-coital bliss, tucked beneath the blankets, Steve’s damp hair tickling where his head rests on Bucky’s chest, muscular but impossibly soft.

“Yeah?” Bucky chuckles, bringing his metal hand up to thread through Steve’s hair. “You gon’ tell me about it? How you’re gonna fuck me?”

“Mmh,” Steve shifts slightly, nuzzling further into the broad expanse of Bucky’s torso. “Wanna…make you feel good,”

“Yeah? You wanna make Daddy feel good? Treat Daddy right?”

“Mmh,”

“Wanna use your body to make me feel good? Yeah?” Bucky snickers as he flips them over so he’s hovering over Steve’s body, crotches lined up and grinding against each other softly as Bucky gently rocks both of their bodies. “Gonna use your little clit to make me come? Make me come so hard and then use my body to make you come inside Daddy?”

“Nuh…no,” Steve whimpers, shaking his head. “Just…make you feel good,”

“Awe,” Bucky coos, ruffling Steve’s hair. He laughs at the way Steve scrunches his nose up. “Not even bothered about coming, Stevie? Just wanna keep going until your daddy has his fill?”

“Uh huh,” Steve nods, but he squeezes his eyes shut and covers as much of his red face as he can in the crook of his elbow. “Like…like a toy to make…make Daddy feel good,”

“Hmm,” Bucky presses a grin into Steve’s cheek, rolling his hips a little faster. “And good little toys don’t need to come, do they? Good little toys don’t need to be distracted by something as silly as an orgasm, right, sweetheart?”

“D-don’t need to come, just…just Daddy. Need Daddy’s come, please,”

“Hmm,” Bucky purrs into Steve’s neck. “You’d be such a good toy for Daddy, doll face.”

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

They don’t talk about it in bed the next morning like Steve thinks they would. He wakes up to the smell of pancakes drifting through the house, the sound of Bucky humming along to the music that is playing, the music that Peter introduced them too that Steve cannot stand but Buck seems to have taken a shine to. He groans as he rolls out of his bed, picking up one of Bucky’s hoodies off the floor and pulling it over his head. He stumbles as he tries to step into a pair of boxers. He’s only slightly disgusted that he doesn’t know whose they are.

He staggers into the kitchen, stifling a yawn, and plasters himself against Bucky’s back. The other man groans playfully at the added weight but doesn’t make any move to get Steve off him.

“Mornin’, Stevie,” Bucky chuckles, deep with sleep. Steve mewls as he tries to burrow himself into Bucky’s skin.

“Mmhm ‘addy,”

“Still sleepin’, bunny?” Steve hums softly. “That’s okay. You want some coffee?”

---

They don’t talk about what Steve said when he was half awake and half floating after they’ve eaten breakfast and have both woken up more. They don’t talk about it on their run, or in the shower after their run, or even while they’re making out on the couch in the early afternoon, ignoring the film they had started watching.

They don’t talk about it the day after, or the day after that, or even the day after that. He’s not worried that Bucky has forgotten about it, Buck never forgets anything that Steve says. He doesn’t think that Bucky has forgotten, but Bucky normally brings these things up, whether it’s in casual conversation or as a negotiation, but Bucky seems content to forget all about it. Or, at least, not talk about it.

Steve cannot forget all about it.

He’s not sure why it’s bothering him so much. It’s not like he’s never topped before. Fair enough, they don’t switch positions often, and they never switch their roles, but Steve has fucked Bucky on many occasions. So it’s not like it’s something he’s nervous about, there’s no reason for him to be so worked up, but there’s…something. Some sort of energy buzzing under his skin and he can’t get the thoughts out of his head.

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

It turns out Bucky has absolutely not forgotten about it. In fact, once they get started, it’s pretty clear he’s been thinking about it a lot.

It takes a few weeks for it to come up, and at first Steve isn’t even aware it’s happening. He comes back home from a late lunch with Sam and Bucky is sat on their couch, dressed in his workout gear, loose t-shirt and baggy shorts, beer in his hand. Steve frowns slightly at the sight, confused. He knows Bucky hasn’t been to the gym today and he knows Bucky’s showered within the past hour or so, can smell the hints of coconut from the fancy shampoo Bucky insists they buy. His hair is pulled into a low bun at the back of his head, a few strands falling loose and framing his face. But Bucky never really wears his gym stuff outside of the gym, only when they…oh. Only when they’re playing.

He’s already ready to go. Zero to sixty in three-point-five.

“You’re back,” Bucky murmurs, not taking his eyes off the hockey game that is playing on the television. He doesn’t look up, but he does frown. “You’re overdressed. Fix it,” Steve swallows down a whine that threatens to burst out of his throat, closes his eyes, takes a moment and breathes deeply. It’s the first order he’s been given and it’s far too early to embarrass himself. Bucky clears his throat, and that’s when Steve realises he hasn’t made a move yet, hasn’t even started to kick his shoes off. He swallows again as he begins to strip off, making sure to do it the way Bucky likes even though the other man isn’t watching him, has turned all his attention back to the game. He takes the time to fold each piece of his clothing how he knows Bucky expects him to, placing them neatly on the table by the door. Steve’s barely put the pile down before Bucky is snapping his fingers and pointing at the floor between his spread legs. He takes one step before Bucky clicks his tongue.

“S…sorry, Daddy,”

“Hmm,” Bucky hums, unconvinced, eyes still glued to the game. “Goin’ dumb already? Forgettin’ the rules so quickly?” His voice is laced in mock disappointment, a voice that serves only one purpose: fluster Steve. Steve whines softly as his cheeks heat up, body making a quiet thud against the carpet as he falls to his knees. He crawls over to Bucky slowly.

Bucky doesn’t even look down at him when he settles between Bucky’s legs, just puts his hand not holding the beer into Steve’s hair, tugging his hair back sharply. He snorts when Steve breathes in abruptly through his teeth.

“Get me out,” Bucky sighs, moving his hand down the back of Steve’s head and tugging on the lobe of his ear. “Ten minutes of the game left. Wanna come before it’s finished,”

“Yes, Daddy,” Steve murmurs, bringing his hands up to the waistband of Bucky’s shorts. He pulls them down swiftly, lets himself nuzzle against his daddy’s cock when it’s exposed. He feels Bucky twitch against his cheek, the only suggestion that Bucky isn’t as cool and calm as he pretends to be.

“Nine minutes,” Bucky’s voice sounds further away than it did before, clouded by the fog already settling in in Steve’s head. “Better hurry up, slut. Don’t wanna disappoint me, do you?”

“No,” He doesn’t need Bucky to verbalise any sort of threat, doesn’t have to hear what Buck will do if Steve doesn’t manage to obey. He whimpers suddenly when Bucky fists his hand through Steve’s hair again and tugs backwards harshly. Bucky’s eyes are hard when they meet Steve’s. Steve tries his hardest not to let his eyes close as he sobs. “Daddy! No, Daddy! ‘M sorry,”

“Good.” Bucky lets go of his hair again, turns back to the tv without sparing Steve another glance. “Eight minutes, thirty-seven,”

Steve’s not sure he’s even been so hard so quickly. It’s a mixture of the pain and the way Bucky is ignoring him, using him to get off but not giving him any attention. He doesn’t really know, isn’t sure, how he’s meant to get through the scene without coming until he’s giving permission.

He tries to distract himself as he sucks Bucky’s cock, but with the way his mind is getting foggier the longer he’s on his knees, he’s finding it difficult to focus on anything beyond the cock in his mouth. It’s heavy and hot and fills him up so nicely. He loves the way Bucky feels inside him, anyway at all, but if someone held a gun to his head and told him to choose, he’s probably say this is his favourite way. There’s just something so… nice about being on his knees in front of the man he loves, choking and spluttering and gagging on his cock, making Bucky feel good, not having to focus on anything except for pleasing his man.

It takes him off guard when Bucky spills down his throat, whatever grunts he makes muffled by the opening of the beer bottle in his mouth. Steve sighs happily when Bucky pulls him off his cock, making small, confused, pouty noises when Bucky pushes him back down, further. Steve mouths at the underside of his daddy’s cock, unsure what he’s expecting him to do. Bucky just laughs softly, keeps pushing Steve’s head, down the length of his cock and past his balls and oh.

Bucky’s laugh is breathy when he hears Steve’s broken whimper, feels Steve’s eyes fluttering against his thigh.

“You gonna get Daddy ready?” Bucky asks. He lifts one of his legs off the floor, stepping out of his shorts and setting his foot on the table next to where he’s set down his beer. Steve whimpers as the new position gives him more access to his daddy’s hole. “Yeah, that’s it,” Bucky encourages as Steve starts to lick, his laps growing more confident with Bucky’s low moans. “Such a good little toy,”

“Mmh,”

“Good,” Bucky shuffles slightly, bringing his hips forward. Steve moves with him, easy with the change of angle. “Give Daddy a finger, come on,”

Steve is…Steve is in heaven. He’s slow as he pushes a single finger into Bucky’s tight heat, moans even louder than Bucky does at the sensation. He’s slow, treats Bucky right, crooks his finger just right to rub over the bundle that he knows will drive his daddy wild and is rewarded with the most beautiful sound he thinks he’ll ever hear; a low groan of a noise, a deep rumble, a happy daddy sound and Steve ups his effort to make Bucky make more of those sounds. He takes his time but he still goes at Buck’s speed, adding another finger when he rumbles out “Another, Steve, c’mon,”.He laps around where Bucky’s rim is stretched around three of Steve’s fingers, not stopping even when he feels his spit drooling down his chin, dropping onto his own tits.

He lets out an embarrassingly high-pitched whine when Bucky pushes him back, bare foot pushing against his shoulder, not hard but firm enough that Steve can’t really push back against it, knows it won’t be well received. His face flushes when Bucky chuckles. He glances up, and it’s not fair how unaffected Bucky looks; his pupils are blown and there’s barely any blue in his eyes, but beyond that and the slight pink blush on his cheeks, barely noticeable if you’re not Steve, Bucky looks the same as he did when Steve stepped into their house. Even as he’s still got three of Steve’s fingers buried inside of him.

“You want somethin’, sugar?” Bucky asks, voice light with laughter. Steve’s own voice is barely above a whisper.

“Please,”

“Aw,” It’s almost effortless, the way Bucky changes from carefree and laughing to downright mocking Steve, cruel grin lighting up his face. “Stevie, you gotta problem down there?” He nods down to Steve’s cock, standing proud and deep red. Steve’s cheeks heat up to match the colour, and his eyes drop, trying to hide. Bucky purses his lips, clicks his tongue, and then makes Steve sob. “You think you’re gonna be able to last long enough to fuck Daddy?”

“Daddy!”

“Uh huh,” Bucky nods, frowning somewhat. He sighs, put on, when Steve peers back up at him. “I thought this might happen,” He smiles sympathetically, carding his fingers gently through Steve’s hair. “Got you a present to help you though, Stevie. What do we say?” He sounds so genuine, is the thing, like he was actually worried about Steve not managing and he actually wanted to help. Later, Steve will curse himself for falling for the act, falling into the trap Bucky set up so perfectly. For now, though, he smiles drowsily up at Bucky.

“Thank…thank you, Daddy,” It’s this moment that Bucky’s smirk comes back, big and cruel, and Steve realises his mistake. He swallows.

“You’re very welcome, baby,” Bucky pushes Steve back further, snickering at the look of Steve’s face when his fingers slide out with a wet sound. “Come on, come to the bedroom,” He helps Steve to his feet, steadying him when he stumbles slightly. Steve lets out a soft, happy moan when Bucky pulls him forwards, velvety lips meeting his own, moving together sweetly. He blinks heavily when Bucky pulls away, eyes clearing to see the amused look on Bucky’s face. “C’mon, doll. Don’t go dumb on me just yet. You’ve got a job to do,” He grins as he takes Steve’s hand in his own, tugging him up the stairs and towards their bedroom. Steve lets out a surprised gasp when Bucky suddenly pushes him backwards, big paw of a hand right in the middle of Steve’s chest, pressing him onto the bed. Bucky laughs and Steve swallows when Bucky kisses his cheek. He knows Bucky so well, better than anyone else in the world, and he knows what that kiss means. He’s not going to like what’s coming up. He’s going to love it, sure, but he’s not going to like it. Bucky’s clever like that. “Still w’ me, Stevie?” His head nods without him having to think, his voice horse.

“Gr’n, Daddy,”

“Good,” Bucky coos, patting his cheek just a little more than gently but not enough to sting. A love tap, in Bucky’s books. “You stay here, Daddy’s gonna go and get your gift, ‘kay?”

“Mmh’kay, Daddy,”

“Good boy,” He tracks Bucky’s movements until he’s deep inside their closet, hidden by the walls. Steve lets his eyes drift shut, trying to focus on the sound of Bucky pottering around, trying to calm himself down. He tries not to think about the gift that Bucky has gotten him, sure that it’s not going to be as nice as Bucky is making it out to be. He’s fairly certain that it will be some sort of ring, something to stop him coming as soon as he’s inside Bucky, something that can help him last. He understands, it’s entirely likely that as soon as he’s settled inside Bucky he won’t be able to help himself, but Bucky knows as well as Steve does that coming won’t stop him. They can both go six, seven, even eight times in one night at a push, barely going soft in between, so it’s not like coming too soon is going to prevent him from pleasing Bucky. But the thing with the cock ring, what he’s assuming Bucky is aiming for, is that Steve gets so impossibly sensitive with the ring on, unable to come but getting desperate to. It never fails to entertain Bucky when Steve gets like that. So, he assumes that’s what Bucky’s going to do.

He’s startled when Bucky clears his throat. His eyes fly open to meet Bucky’s, apology already on the tip of his tongue, but Bucky just smiles, cuts him off.

“Hi, baby,” His voice is sweet, more so than usual when the ring makes an appearance, and makes Steve second guess his assumptions. He still moans, though.

“Daddy…” Bucky chuckles as he makes his way over to the bed, crawling up Steve’s body until they’re face to face. He’s lost the rest of his clothes while he’s been gone, body beautifully bare and right up against Steve and Steve’s fairly sure this is an attempt on his life. It’s the only explanation. That’s Bucky’s aim for today’s play, and Steve is more than okay with anything Bucky wants. If Daddy wants it, Daddy can have it.

“You wanna see what I got you?”

“Please,” Steve whines, trying to stop his hips from humping up against Bucky’s solid thigh but it’s hard. Bucky’s thigh’s right there and Steve can feel it and it takes everything in him keep his hips down. Bucky grins, holding himself up with his metal arm, body hovering effortlessly. It’s not fair.

“I know you wanna make Daddy feel good, but ‘M just a lil worried that you won’t be able to last, doll,” He frowns mockingly as his right-hand slips between their bodies and flicks the head of Steve’s cock. He grins gleefully when Steve’s cock spurts a little. “See what I mean?” He laughs cruelly when Steve’s face glows red. “And I just wanna help you do what you want to do,” Steve’s fully expecting the ring. It’s the only thing in his head that makes any sense, so he’s a bit confused when Bucky just holds a dildo up. The confusion must be clear on his face, because Bucky’s grin turns into a sly smirk. Steve whimpers when Bucky turns the toy so the hollow base is visible. It suddenly clicks in Steve’s head. That’s going on his…yeah. This is definitely an attempt on his life. Bucky’s out to kill him. “Aren’t I the best Daddy, Stevie? Helping you like this?” Bucky laughs when Steve starts crying.

“Daddy!”

“You don’t sound very grateful, doll face,” Bucky frowns mockingly, lips pouting out slightly. “If you wanna make Daddy feel good, he deserves as long as he wants, right? You don’t wanna disappoint me, do you? Don’t wanna fill me up too soon so I can’t feel you?”

“Wanna…” Steve swallows as he shakes his head quickly. “Wanna make Daddy feel good,”

“Yeah, I thought so,” Bucky nods, huffing out a laugh. “You’ll be good and let me put this on you, yeah?” He doesn’t wait for Steve to respond, just lifts his hips up high enough that he can slip the straps of the harness around Steve’s waist. He pushes Steve hips back down when the straps are flat under his body, bringing them around the front and attaching one side to the ring at the end of the dildo. Steve doesn’t know where he found the time to reach for the lube, but when Bucky’s hand wraps around the length of his cock, it’s wet and warm and Steve’s in heaven. Or hell, judging by the sob that forces its way out of his throat.

Bucky’s hand moves up and down only twice before the toy is being lowered down over his cock. He whimpers when Bucky attaches the strap to the other side of the ring and tightens it, using his finger to make sure the material isn’t digging into Steve’s hips. Steve watches this time as Bucky reaches for the lube, putting more onto his hand and bringing his hand down to Steve’s cock.

He feels…disconnected. From his own body. He’s watching as Bucky’s hand moves up and down slowly, twisting just the way that Steve loves. He’s watching it happen, but he can’t feel it. Bucky snickers cruelly before he takes his hand away. He rolls over and settles against the pillows, shuffling back until he’s comfortable. He turns to Steve and raises his eyebrow.

“Come on then, toy,” Steve whimpers at the name, fighting to keep his eyes open. “Come and make me feel good. Do your job,” Steve’s slow as he makes his way over to Bucky, climbs up his body and holds himself up with one of his hands. He uses the other to steady the toy, line it up with Bucky’s hole. He knows Bucky can take it, has had Steve’s fingers in him for the better part of an hour, but he still goes slowly, lets Bucky feel every inch of the toy, of him, entering him. He wiggles only slightly as he bottoms out, snivelling at the sound of Bucky’s low groan as he gets used to the intrusion.

“Move,” He grunts out, tangling his hands in Steve’s hair and tightening them only slightly, enough to pull Steve’s head backwards to encourage him to move. “This is just what you wanted, right?” He groans out, grinning at the broken whimper that comes out of Steve’s mouth. “Just to be a toy for your Daddy’s pleasure, not distracted by that tiny clit between your legs?” Steve’s skin burns right down his body, his chest ablaze with the feeling Bucky is creating for him. “Maybe…maybe next time you can…you can be a pretty little flesh light for me. Nice and tight and-” He gasps sharply as Steve rocks forward sharply, right into his prostate. “-and hot, bouncing up an’ down on my cock like a lil bunny, pleasing me so well. Just like now,”

“Dad-ddy,” Steve whines, tears falling down his face and falling onto Bucky beneath him. Bucky frowns at the sound, pouting and widening his eyes.

“Oh, that’s not a happy noise,” He mocks, brushing Steve’s hair out of his face. He grips Steve’s chin, forces his face up, making his eyes meet his. “Doesn’t Daddy feel good, Stevie? You don’t sound like he feels good,”

“Daddy!” Steve sobs loudly, hips stuttering and face trying to fall into Bucky’s shoulder. The other man doesn’t let him hide, keeping his grip strong in the fringe of Steve’s hair and on his chin. Bucky is cruel, Steve realises, so terribly cruel. He knows what Bucky is doing, how he’s trying to make Steve feel and it’s working so well. Bucky keeps frowning.

“You’re making Daddy feel inadequate, baby. It’s my job to make you feel good. Is Daddy doing a bad job? Does Daddy not feel good?” It’s the most delicious mindfuck Steve has ever felt. He whines as Bucky looks at him expectantly, knowing what he wants him to say.

“Feel…” Steve gulps harshly, eyes closing and breathing going deep. His voice is quiet when he continues, breaking on each word. “Feels so good,” He opens his eyes again just in time to see Bucky’s smirk slowly grow.

“Good, baby,” He coos, letting go of Steve’s chin and instead patting him mockingly on the cheek. “I’m glad you’re feelin’ good. Makes me feel like a good Daddy, knowin’ that I’m pleasin’ you.” Steve groans, his hips stuttering again and resting flush against Bucky’s. The other man pinches the skin of Steve’s hip with a tut, causing him to yelp before continuing his movements. “Don’t ruin it, toy. You’ve been fuckin’ me so good, so well, make me feel so good, you better not stop now,”

“Won’t!” Steve gasps out, lifting himself back up and continuing his thrusts, harder and deeper than before, doing his best to please Bucky.

“Fuck,” The other man groans, fingers digging into Steve’s hips unintentionally with the pleasure. “Right there, toy, fuck,” Steve moans in tandem with Bucky, hips rolling forwards and slapping against Bucky’s skin, even if he can’t feel anything. He didn’t expect this to do it for him, not so much, but seeing the pleasure he’s giving Bucky without feeling anything? He’s feeling disconnected from his body in the best way.

The first time Bucky comes, Steve isn’t expecting it. He hasn’t noticed Bucky’s hand sneaking down in between them and starting to squeeze, to pull at himself. Bucky groans through it, not stopping his hand and not telling Steve to pause in his movements, milking the come out of himself.

“Keep going,” Bucky’s breathing is a little heavier than before, eyes still closed in pleasure. Steve imagines the way that Bucky would feel around him if he didn’t have this damn toy on, the way he would be clenching around him as he comes, the tight heat, the wet slide.

Steve’s so lost in his head he doesn’t notices that Bucky’s coming again, so soon after the last one. The noise he makes is more high pitched this time, the sensation of Steve still fucking into him quickly becoming too much when paired with the two successive orgasms.

“Wait,” He gasps, hands gripping Steve’s shoulders, stilling his movements. “Stop, toy,” His eyes are still closed, breathing heavily and voice mumbled. “Finished using you, finished playing,”

Bucky takes longer than he strictly needs to catch his breath, perfectly happy to watch at Steve squirms and whines and tries to get his attention. When he’s got his breath back, he rolls out from under Steve, manhandling him until he’s lying on his back with his hands gripping the bed frame, pressing down on them so Steve knows to keep them there. He himself lays on his side, facing his baby, letting his cheek rest on the palm of his hand. He’s slow as he undoes the straps of the harness, unclipping them and unthreading them from the base of the toy, but leaving the dildo over Steve’s cock. The other man chokes on a sob when Bucky slowly jacks the toy, eyes shining.

“Since you’re just a toy, you don’t need to come, right?” Bucky practically purrs, giddy in the afterglow of his orgasms, feasting off the whines Steve is producing. “That’s what you said to me, right? ‘Don’t need to come!’” He pitches his voice high, nasally, using it to taunt and embarrass Steve, grinning when he squeezes his eyes shut, turning his face away from Bucky to hide in his arms. Bucky just reaches out and grips his chin, hard, forcing his eyes open and to look at him. “’Just need Daddy’s come!’ That’s what you told me, yeah?”

“Don’t…don’t need to come,” Steve parrots, moans, low and broken, voice heavy with tears.

“But…” Steve perks up slightly when Bucky’s fingers leave his chin and reach down from the toy, lifting it slowly, so so slowlyoff Steve’s cock and letting it fall to the floor with a quiet thud. “That looks painful, Stevie,” Bucky coos as he nods at Steve’s cock, encouraging him to look down at it. Steve whimpers when he sees it, deep red and ever so stiff and leaking so much. “And ‘M not a cruel Daddy, am I, baby?”

“No, Nuh-uh,” Steve shakes his head as he answers quickly. “The…the best Daddy-”

“Yeah, I know,” Bucky laughs, holding a finger over Steve’s lips to get him to be quiet. “I’m not cruel, not gonna make you sleep like that, all heavy and full, so I’ll give you a choice,”

“Wha…”

“Hush,” Bucky shushes him, but not harshly, a complete contrast to the next words that come out of his mouth. “A choice. I can go and get the ice, or you can have a ruin.”

“No!” Steve wails. He sobs as Bucky smirks down at him, raising an eyebrow. “Please, Daddy, I-”

“You are just a toy.” Bucky sneers, slapping his hand down harshly on the meat of Steve’s tit, scoffing at the shrieking noise that Steve fails to hold in. “You’re my toy. And I’m bein’ gracious enough to give you a choice, Steven. I’m being nice. I don’t haveta be,” He uses the same hand that he slapped Steve with to tug at his nipple instead. “You got three seconds to make a choice, or Daddy’ll make it for you. And Daddy’s startin’ to lose his patience,” Steve sobs at the sing-song tone in Bucky’s voice, the way his eyes are shining. He tries his best to think about which of the two options are the best, which one will hurt less but his mind doesn’t seem to want to work. He’s struggling to think beyond the pinch of Bucky’s metal fingers on his nipples and the ache in his cock, that’s heavy and purpling and weeping and-

“Wanna-” His voice breaks around the word, throat impossibly dry. “Wanna empty, please,”

“Good choice,” Bucky finally relents on Steve’s tits, rearranging himself so he’s on his back and leaning against the stack of pillows. He holds his right hand over Steve’s mouth. “Lick,” He tells him, voice sounding bored, while his attention focuses on turning the tv on and flicking through the channels. When he’s decided that his hand is wet enough, he clenches it into a loose fist and holds it above Steve’s cock, just high enough that Steve will have to struggle to fuck up into without the use of his hands. “Get on with it, then,” Bucky says, voice light like he’s not interested, like he’s paying attention to the dumb reality show that he’s landed on. Steve knows it’s just an act, but God is Bucky the star of the show, the best actor Steve has ever seen, playing a role that was literally written for him. It’s an act, but it works so well, spurs Steve on to do a good job, to please his daddy.

Steve whimpers almost continuously as he thrusts his hips up, having to plant his feet into the mattress to get any sort of stimulation from Bucky’s loose hand. He’s close embarrassingly quickly, despite not having had his cock touched for more than a few seconds at the start of their scene. He tries to tell Bucky this, but the words won’t come out of his mouth.

Bucky doesn’t need the words though. He never has, has always been able to read Steve like he’s his favourite book, cover well worn and pages becoming tattered with the amount of thumbing through that has happened. He doesn’t even look at Steve as he tightens his hand, starts jacking up and down quickly. Steve’s mouth drops open but no sound comes out. He tries, tries to warn Bucky, he’s right on the edge, is teetering over, is starting to-

Bucky takes his hand away.

Steve sobs, loud and uninhibited, tears pouring out of his eyes at the sudden loss of sensation. He’s vaguely aware of one of Bucky’s paws on his chest, holding him down and stopping him thrusting up in any capacity. He can’t focus on anything, there’s nothing to ground him, to take him away from this feeling of anguish he is feeling.

He stops coming at some point, can feel his dick twitch as it finishes, leaving him feeling empty but terribly unsatisfied, an achy buzz he can’t escape from.

He can’t focus on anything, mind floating somewhere a million miles from earth. He can feel the vibrations of someone, Daddy, talking, whispering into his skin as something warm glides over Steve’s body. He can’t make out the individual words his daddy is saying, but he can feel the smiles, the soft kisses being littered across his warm skin.

When he lands again, he’s not sure how much time has passed. He’s face down on the bed, still naked, but he can feel his hair is damp, can smell the coconut of the shampoo. There are fingers dancing up and down the expanse of his back. He lets out a hoarse giggle.

“You back w’ me, Stevie?” Bucky whispers, hands stilling for a moment before they continue their journey up and down Steve’s back. Steve can’t answer with more than a hum but does turn his face and blinks owlishly up at Bucky. “There he is, my gorgeous boy,”

“Daddy…”

“The most beautiful boy. The best boy, best I could ever ask for. You were so good for me, Stevie,” Bucky smiles into Steve’s hair as he presses kisses into the softness. Steve presses into the feeling, squirming and wriggling on the bed, trying to get closer to Bucky. The other man chuckles at him, using one of his legs to hook over Steve’s, pulling him until he’s lying right on top of Bucky’s body, hairs tickling Bucky’s nose.

“Mhmm,” Steve sighs, nuzzling his cheek into Bucky’s chest.

“You’re like a damn cat, Stevie.”

Steve purrs happily.

[seijorhi]

Thirty Seven Seconds

Soulmate AU commission for @pokemonfreak666, hope you like it, bby!

Bakugou Katsuki x Female Reader, Kirishima Eijiro x Female Reader

TW non-con, minor character death, nsfw

Part II

It’s funny how easily the things you think are important get pushed aside and forgotten when everything goes to shit.

For over twenty years you’ve watched the timers on your wrists slowly tick down, day by day, hour by hour, second by second. Separated only by a fraction of a second, counting down to the exact moment you’d meet your soulmates. And for as long as you can remember, those two timers have meant everything to you.

Twenty-four hours out, and you could barely focus, buzzing with nervous anticipation.

Twelve hours. Six. An hour and forty five. Down the timers tick.

Nine minutes.

Five and a half.

Two. 

It’s hard to describe the almost dizzying excitement you felt walking down the street, your arm looped with your friend’s. Giddy and grinning like a fool, it’d felt like nothing in the world could possibly touch you - you were moments away from meeting the ones - your soulmates, your happily ever after. 

And even though the timers never lied, you couldn’t help but keep your eyes peeled, desperately searching for an early glimpse of them while your friend (two months away from meeting her own) just rolled her eyes and laughed good-naturedly. 

Thirty seven seconds out, and the ground shook as an explosion ripped through the sky.

Funnily enough, you don’t remember too much after that. Just a wave of searing heat, an aftershock that knocks you clean off your feet and the sound of your best friend screaming.

There’s a hard body colliding with yours, the smell of burnt sugar and musk choking the air around you-

“Oi, shitty hair, get the other one!”

And then there’s nothing.

—

You wake up in the hospital hours later and a nurse with a sombre face tells you that your friend didn’t make it, and for the first time in years your soulmates are the furthest thing from your mind.

It was a villain attack, some no-name wannabe trying to make a reputation for himself. It doesn’t really matter, you don’t really care. 

It’s all white noise.

She tells you that you have visitors if you’re feeling up to it - the two Pro Heroes who rescued you stuck around to come see if you were okay, but you just shake your head. 

It’s not their fault, you know that, but the timers stopped ticking and your best friend died and you’re honestly not sure whether you’ll ever be able to reconcile those two things in your head. 

You spend just under a week in hospital, and every day they come to see you.

They never make it past the nurses station.

—

Two days after you’re discharged, there’s a rough pounding at your front door. 

You know, even before you glance through the peephole that it’s them. And even with your hand resting on the doorknob, your heart hammering away inside of your chest, there’s a part of you that wants to walk away, to shut them out entirely until they get the message that you’re not interested.

But it’s not their fault, you remind yourself, and you can’t be cruel.

Tentatively, you twist the knob and let the door swing open just a touch, catching on the chain deadbolt. 

The sight of the two towering Pro Heroes - Dynamight and Red Riot, unmistakable even out of their Hero costumes - standing out in the hall would be enough to set anybody on edge, but it’s the way their gazes snap towards you, red eyes zeroing in like you’ve caught them in the middle of a conversation that makes your heart squeeze uncomfortably.

They know. They have to. 

“H-hello?”

The blond’s still scowling, but the redhead (Kirishima, a voice inside your head supplies. He was your friend’s favourite, wasn’t he?) grins brightly at you.

“Hey babe! Y’know, you’re one tough chick to get ahold of,” he laughs, and your eyes flicker to Bakugou’s just in time to see the muscle in his jaw twitch. “Mind if we come in, sweetheart?”

Your stomach twists at the casual endearment, even more so when you catch sight of the pink and red flowers in his hand.

The polite thing to do would be to say yes; soulmates or not they did technically save your life and they deserve that much at least, but you just- 

You can’t. 

Not when you buried your friend yesterday. You need time. You need space. You’re just not in the right place and now… you’re not sure if you ever will be.

Swallowing tightly, you nibble on your bottom lip, “Um… look, I-I’m really sorry, but-”

“Nah, fuck this shit,” Bakugou snaps. “Move,” and you have all of a split second to process the command before his foot’s on the door and it’s splintering inwards, ripping the deadbolt clean off.

A shriek tears its way free as you flinch in on yourself, and vaguely you register Kirishima loudly chastising him, but you can’t focus on that when the blond’s hand is on your arm, fingers digging in, dragging you unceremoniously inside.

“Shut up, Kiri. ‘m not gonna let her push us away because she’s too fuckin’ stubborn for her own good.”

And then those red, glaring eyes are fixed on you, and it feels like you’re a little rabbit, caught in the maw of a hungry wolf. “What are you- stop!” you cry as he painfully yanks you forward again, this time in the direction of your open bedroom. 

But Bakugou doesn’t listen, doesn’t even pause, and despite his earlier protests, neither does Kirishima.

It’s too fast, too sudden- 

Your heart is pounding, fear gripping at your throat, squeezing. You don’t understand what’s happened, why they’ve forced their way inside your home, why they’re hurting you.

“Wait, please! I-I don’t-”

“You don't what, princess?! You’re our soulmate, aren’t you?” he snarls, and you can only sob. “Then just…” he breaks off with a frustrated huff, “just shut up and enjoy this.”

Against two Pro Heroes, you never stood a chance. 

It’s all too easy for Kiri to manhandle you back onto the bed, impossibly strong arms encircling your torso, drawing you back to prop you up against his chest while Bakugou busies himself with your lower half. Clothes are ripped off of you, greedy hands palming at exposed flesh, and you choke on another sob as heated red eyes gaze up at you from between your forcibly spread thighs.

The first lick of his tongue against your sex has you keening, writhing against the redhead’s grip. It’s useless - Kiri has no intentions of letting you go anywhere, and Bakugou only growls, fingers tightening on the meat of your thighs as he pushes his tongue further between your folds.

He eats you out like a man starved - sucking and slurping gracelessly at your cunt, messily, with no rhythm or technique, fucking his tongue into you while you shake and tearfully beg for him to stop. Yet you can’t fight the shameful warmth that burns at your cheeks, the way your toes curl and your breath stutters when he decides to add two fingers into the mix.

“Please,” you sniffle, choking back another moan as his tongue wraps around your clit and he suckles the swollen bud, but neither one of your soulmates pays the cry any heed.

You can feel Kiri’s own hardening cock nudging at your lower back as he plays with your tits, cooing at you and laughing when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger just as Bakugou’s fingers hit that sensitive bundle of nerves and you scream, shaking and trembling in his grip.

“Yeah, you like that baby? You like Bakugou eating your pussy out?” His lips trail along the curve of your neck, sucking hot, wet, open mouthed kisses against the tender flesh while he ruts his hips against you. “Don’t go all shy on us now, wanna hear how good we’re making our pretty girl feel.” 

And while his fingers relentlessly pump into your dripping cunt, Bakugou pulls back, lower jaw shining and wet with your juices, and grins, “Course she fuckin’ likes it. Little slut’s practically clamping down on my tongue with how badly she wants to cum.” His smirk deepens, something dark and feral burning in those crimson depths as his tongue darts out to lick at his lips, “But we’re just getting started, aren’t we princess? Gonna fuck you till you’re a drooling fucking mess, begging for your soulmates’ cocks, and you’re gonna love every damned second of it.”

Trapped between the two of them - your soulmates, the two people on earth who’re supposed to love you, protect you - you can only sob.

[harrysweasleys]

show and tell // g.w

summary: the four times george shows you he loves you before he says it for the first time.

warnings: injury, blood, broken bones, sickness, mentions of nudity and food

word count: 5k

a/n: this was so much fun to write!! i hope you all enjoy :) x

———————————————————————

one

It was mid-march and the spring sunshine felt as if it were everlasting. From the moment you woke up, to the late evening, the golden rays illuminated the fields around the Burrow and brought a sense of warmth and comfort. As if you were away from the rest of the world, practically untouched by civilization.

It was the epitome of peaceful.

Even in the peak of the afternoon, while Molly and Arthur bustled about the house, and while the gaggle of Weasley children decided to take advantage of the weather and challenge one another to a playful Quidditch game.

You weren’t really sure why they chose to call it playful, per say. They were all awfully competitive. Last week, Ginny was knocked off of her broom and into the pond. Luckily, she sustained no injuries, but it was still a rather intense sight. About a month back, Bill had decided to join, and had to use his wand to repair a black eye.

Safe to say, as you sat on a small lounge chair and watched over, that you were nervous. Your eyes felt as if they were locked on George’s every move. That if you looked away, he’d end up toppling to the ground in a mess of long limbs and ginger hair.

“You sure you don’t want to join?” Ginny called down to you, hovering a few feet away on her rather mangled broom that she most likely used in childhood before she got her much nicer one for the Gryffindor team.

You shook your head, squinting as you looked up, “I’ll pass. I’m much better as a spectator.”

She shrugged, her braid flipping over her shoulder as she took off back towards the make-shift pitch.

The game went as it always did — the same teams, the same keepers, the same chasers and beaters, and of course, Harry and Ginny as rival seekers. Nothing was really new there.

George looked rather at ease on his broom. It was a sight you loved to see. You knew that work stressed him out, that he was always trying to improve every aspect of his business and it was one of the things that swirled in his mind constantly. But seeing him here, in what appeared to be his element, brought a smile to your face.

Unfortunately, that smile was wiped off rather quickly when he collided with Ginny not even five minutes into the match. She ended up collecting her wits and balance, staying up in the air. George, however, did not.

Luckily for him, he was only a few feet off the ground. But the sickening crunch that he made when he landed flat on his face was the furthest thing from “lucky” that you could think of.

You shot up off of your chair in a panicked heartbeat, rushing over to where his body lay limp on the ground. You could feel your body grow warm in worry.

“George!” you crouched next to him and placed one of your hands on his forearm, “Georgie, are you okay?”

He let out a groan, rolling over onto his back. A stream of blood rushed down from his nose, which already looked off coloured and crooked. Broken, no doubt.

“Is it bad?” he asked, his eyes squinted shut.

You winced, trying to avoid looking at the damage on his face, “I’m really not the person to ask.”

He began to sit up, groaning a bit as he did so, and slowly opened his eyes. He brought one of his hands — one that was already covered in a mixture of dirt and sweat — and brought it to his face, wiping it across his mouth and chin.

As he pulled it away and spotted the crimson liquid on his fingertips, he let out a mutter of a curse.

“I’m bowing out of the match,” he called up to his siblings, all hovering nearby to see if he was alright, before pointing at his face, “I’m gonna go clean this up.”

His hair was matted down to his head from sweat, as well as his clothes practically clinging to his body, but you wasted no time in grabbing on to him to hoist him up. You weren’t overly familiar with injuries, since you were in no means a Healer, but you’d be damned if you didn’t try to help.

“Let’s get you to the washroom,” you held his arm, leading him into the house and guiding him since his head was tilted back, pinching his nose to prevent any more bleeding.

On the way into the tiny washroom, you grabbed your wand that was sitting on the dining room table. Hermione had taught you the spell for repairing a broken nose, and though you’ve never performed it before, you had to give it a shot.

“I should be alright,” he muttered with his hand still pinched on his nose, his other free hand rummaging across the cluttered countertop to try and find the tissues.

You gently whacked his hand away, “Stop. Let me help.”

You began guiding him over to the edge of the countertop, bringing him closer until yourself pinned right between his body and the sink. So, you gave him a little shove, hopped up onto the cold tile, and brought him close. His body stood between your legs, your feet immediately wrapping around his torso so that he could stand still and close, enough so that you could try your best to fix the damage from his fall.

“If I wasn’t bleeding, I’d rather enjoy this position,” you could hear the handsome smirk in his voice, even as you grabbed a handful of tissues and placed them under the running water of the sink.

“Oh, shove it,” you chuckled, taking one of the wet tissues and turning to face him. He was still pinching his nose, but he was now facing you.

You began to dab at his chin, glad that the blood hadn’t had time to dry so it was rather easy to wipe off. He didn’t wince, but then again, you imagined a majority of the pain was probably in his nose. George had a high tolerance for pain, which was something that was probably built up after years of testing products on himself. Especially those damn nosebleed nougats.

“Oh, wait, I’m an idiot,” you scoffed, pressing the tissue to his face with one hand as you reached for your wand with the other, “Let me fix your nose first.”

His eyes widened at the sight of the wand in your hand, and he shuffled back a few inches, “Merlin, are you sure? You’ve never fixed a nose before.”

You tossed the used tissue into the bin before grabbing another one, this time holding it right against his nostrils, “Just let me do this. It’s one spell, how hard can it be?”

The hesitation flashed through his eyes before he slowly nodded his head, “Fine, fine, I trust you.”

Through the nervous beating of your heart, you managed to smile. Those three words caused all of your unease to drift away, your focus landing solely on the one word you had to mutter.

He took a step back, this time in confidence.

Instead of making the poor man wait in pain while you went over the consequences in your head, you lifted your wand and spoke, “Episkey.”

The crunch was quiet, but George’s eyes shot open and he bit down on his lower lip, a muffled shout of pain getting stuck in his throat as one of his hands grabbed your thigh, giving it a squeeze that was bound to leave a bruise.

“Oh, Merlin, are you okay?” you asked, tossing your wand aside and placing your hands on either side of his face. His cheeks were awfully warm despite how pale they had just become, and you felt the tenseness of his muscles as he stepped back between your open legs. His grip on your thigh didn’t lighten up, and you felt a surge of guilt bubble up into your belly.

“Georgie?” you asked more softly this time, one of your hands running through his sticky hair, “Did I make it worse?”

He shook his head, not exactly speaking, but giving you the answer you needed, “‘s fine.”

You gave a small pout, taking your hands away from him to avoid causing overstimulation. Though, as soon as your hands left his skin, he put his own hands on yours and guided them back up into his hair.

You gave him a puzzled look as you began to run your fingers along his scalp again, but he quickly answered your silent question, “Feels nice.”

His smirk returned to his lips and you rolled your eyes, immediately realizing you fell into his trap, “Oh, you little git. You’re fine, aren’t you?”

His laughter echoed in the small bathroom and managed to ease all of the worry and panic that was swarming through your mind, “No, it does hurt, but it’s not that bad. I do really like you playing nurse though, love. I should fall off my broom more often, yeah?”

You tossed a tissue at him, your own laughter bubbling in your chest, “Don’t you dare think about it, Weasley.”

“C’mon, love,” he grinned, bringing his face closer to yours, only to have you push him away.

“We are cleaning up the mess that is your face before you kiss me,” you smirked, holding up another tissue. He rolled his eyes and let out a groan, but he let you continue dabbing at his skin until he was all cleaned up. His nose was left with some light bruising, but you barely even focused on that after his little painful performance he decided to put on.

It really was never a dull moment.

———————————————————————

two

George’s birthday came around way too quickly for your liking. You remembered New Years Eve as clearly as if it were yesterday, and now here you were, on April the first, knocking loudly at his door at nearly eight thirty in the morning.

It was still early in the day — you guys would be headed to the burrow for dinner with his family in the late afternoon — but you decided to pay him a little surprise and pop by his flat with a few gifts and sweets in the morning before being whisked away. You always enjoyed the private moments between the two of you, and this was no different.

His face appeared in the doorway mere seconds later, his hair sticking up in countless spots, and his baggy jammies hanging loosely around his body. His cheeks were flushed pink at the sight of you standing there; a bag of gifts in one hand and a plate with a tiny cupcake in the other, one little candle on the top with a flame that you had enchanted not to burn out until he made his wish.

“Happy birthday!” you grinned, flashing him your best smile despite the urge to laugh at his disheveled appearance. He seemed to have just gotten out of bed. You had spent the night with George before, usually if he had the next day off and the two of you could laze around in the morning, and there was one conclusion you could make from it.

George was not a morning person.

However, through his sleepy state, he shot you a bright smile, “Look at you, coming by to be my gift.”

You rolled your eyes as he moved aside, letting you walk into his flat, “I’m not the gift. But I do come bearing some.” You placed the bag on the floor and stuck out the plate, handing him the cupcake. His smile never faded as he took it from you, holding it in one hand and the other went to his chin, pretending to ponder.

“What are you doing?” you asked, eyes scanning over his furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. He looked deep in thought.

“Gotta make a wish, right?” he replied, “Though, you’re all I could ever wish for and you’re right here.”

You felt an eruption of fluttering in your chest at his sweet words — he really was quite the flirt — but you brushed it aside and removed your coat, placing it on the hook behind you before turning back to him, “Make your wish, you idiot.”

He smirked, shooting you a cheeky wink before he closed his eyes and blew on the candle, the little flame dying down quickly.

“See?” you chuckled, now removing your shoes so you could properly enter the flat, “Was that so hard?”

He stuck out his tongue, one of his fingers dipping into the icing of the cupcake. You were too busy focusing on carrying the bag of gifts, however, that you hadn’t noticed his icing covered finger reaching in your direction. So, as you turned back to face him, it smeared across your cheek.

“That’s what you get for being mean on my birthday,” he raised an eyebrow, proceeding to walk over to the couch in the living room, your own footsteps following closely behind him. The icing was sticky against your skin, but you were too busy trying to get even to even bother wiping it off.

You finally caught up to him, grabbing the cupcake out of his grasp and holding it away from him, scooping up some of the icing and smearing it across his lips. 

He looked quite amused, nodding his head slowly as he started licking his lips, “Nice try, love.”

“Oi, just shut up and sit down,” you scoffed, grabbing a tissue from the end table and wiping the icing off of your face, tossing the tissue in the bin before reaching over and grabbing a box out of the bag, “Now. Let me spoil you, yeah?”

You sat next to him on the couch and placed the box in his lap.

He leaned over and pressed his lips against your cheek, placing a delicate kiss before pulling away, “You already spoil me enough just being with me.”

You shook your head and let out a laugh, motioning your head in the direction of the box once again, before he finally proceeded to open it.

It didn’t take long for him to go through his gifts. Five boxes later, and he now had a few new things for around the house. Not that he needed appliances, really. He was a wizard. But he had mentioned to you a few times that he was starting to attempt doing a few things the “muggle way.”

“This is all brilliant,” he grinned, one of his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you into his side, “Thank you, love.”

You leaned up and pressed a light kiss on his jawline, not missing the way his body shivered at your touch. It brought you a sense of pride, honestly, the fact that you were able to have this affect on him.

“However, there is one more gift to open,” he said, sitting up from his spot on the couch so quickly it nearly knocked you backwards.

“There is?” you asked, peering around the flat to see if there was another parcel. Maybe Fred had stopped by to give his twin a gift before the party at the Burrow.

“Sit right here,” he held up one finger before bolting into the bedroom, disappearing from view for a few moments. Maybe his parents had dropped something off?

He came back into the living room, a box in his hands with big letters on the side that read Y/N. You furrowed your eyebrows as he placed it in your lap, a pleased grin on his face.

“What the bloody hell is this?” you asked, not even masking your confusion, “It’s your birthday, in case you’ve forgotten.”

He nodded, the smirk still on his lips, “Why, yes, I haven’t forgotten. But I figured for my birthday, what I want to do is spoil my girl.”

You shook your head, letting your head fall back onto the couch cushion — the couch that had once belonged to his brother Bill before he moved in with Fleur — and let out a laugh, “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Just open it,” he placed a kiss on your temple, your heart in your chest feeling like it was about to burst.

You let out a breathy laugh and began to unwrap the box, opening it up to reveal a lumpy knitted sweater, the first letter of your name written out in the centre of it. It was perfect. Homely, and clearly made with love. You knew Molly knitted these for her children every year, but you didn’t expect to get one so soon, let alone ever.

“Oh, George. Your mum made me one?” you asked, voice filled with awe as you picked up the jumper, holding it against your chest as if you were hugging it. This honestly meant more to you than you could express.

“No,” he grinned, one of his hands rubbing the back of his neck, “I actually made that. Mum taught me a few years back and I never thought it would come in handy, but here we are.”

Your eyes widened at his words, heart so full that you could barely find the words to reply. If you weren’t so shocked, you might find yourself word-vomiting a bunch of lovey dovey nonsense. But you couldn’t. You honestly couldn’t speak.

“You’re part of the family now,” he broke the silence, one of his hands finding its way into your hair and giving a small twirl, “I want you to know that.”

You felt an itchiness in the back of your throat and you knew your emotions would get the best of you, so instead of speaking up, you decided to toss your arms around his neck and hold him as close as possible, the new jumper squeezed between the two of you as if it were holding you together. Which, in a way, it was.

George really was amazing, and there was no doubt that you were starting to fall for him. But this gesture, this gift, was beyond that.

It showed you that maybe, possibly, he was the one.

———————————————————————

three

Two days after George’s birthday, which had been a long and tiring evening at the Burrow celebrating another year of Fred and George, you found yourself feeling a little under the weather.

It was most likely not from Molly’s meal assortment, but possibly from standing outside in the chilly weather to watch the fun little firework display the twins had decided to put on for themselves. Plus, you were pretty sure Charlie had shown up with a cold as well.

You had woken up with a sore throat and a stuffy nose, your head unfortunately feeling quite congested as well. As if a throbbing migraine was bubbling just below the surface.

To simply put it, you were most likely coming down with said cold.

You had woken up in a rush, immediately reaching for the tissue box to clear your sinuses, but in the process of doing so, happened to wake up the ever-so-sleepy George next to you.

His arm retracted from around your waist and he rubbed his eyes with his hand, squinting to look over at you, “Are you okay?”

His voice was heavily laced with sleep and you felt bad for waking him up, but the gross feeling of sickness was a little too overbearing for you to really worry about disrupting his sleep schedule.

“Sorry, Georgie,” you replied, holding a tissue to your nose, “I think I stood a little too close to Charlie and he passed his germs onto me.”

George’s head fell back onto his pillow, “Git.” You let out a small laugh as he shoved the blanket off of his body and onto yours, all the warmth that his body produced now gone as he got out of bed. A whine left your throat and you reached out, trying to grab his hand and pull him back down.

He tossed on a shirt and turned to face you, “Be back in a second, love. Just gotta do something.”

A pout made its way onto your lips as he left the room, his disheveled morning hair disappearing through the bedroom door. You didn’t necessarily want to pass your possible sickness onto him — you’d only end up feeling guilty and responsible — but you already missed the comfort that he brought when he laid next to you. Even though he had been gone for a total of ten seconds.

You could hear noises as he rummaged through the kitchen, but you didn’t bring yourself to get out of bed. The throbbing in your head would make it hard for you to even have proper balance. You didn’t want to make it worse.

It didn’t take long for George to return, a small tray in his hands and a smile on his lips. You sat up properly, trying to get a peek as to what he had with him.

“For you, my princess,” he gave you a quick wink, placing the tray next to you on the bed.

Your heart swelled. He had brought you breakfast. A plate filled with fruits and a cup of tea sat nearly on the tray, smelling and looking more delicious than ever. Maybe it was because of the thought and love he put into it, but you honestly couldn’t wait to dive in.

“You made me breakfast?” you asked softly, looking up at him as you moved the tray onto your lap.

“I did,” he slid back under the blankets next to you, one of his hands finding yours and giving it a light squeeze, “The tea will help soothe your throat and the vitamins in the fruits will help you feel better.”

The smile on your face was so wide, you swore it reaches your ears, “Georgie, this is so sweet.”

“Well, what can I say? I’m the best.”

You gave him a poke in the shoulder, laughing at his cockiness, “That you are. That you are.”

———————————————————————

four

Unfortunately, George had caught your cold. And he loved to complain about it. Every second he could possibly find to bring it up, he would. Not to blame you, of course, but to milk it as much as possible so that you could take care of him. 

Not that you could do much, really, since you were still nursing your own annoying sickness. But you did try to help as much as you could. You’d made a soup, he’d make the tea. It was a compromise that helped the both of you.

However, one afternoon, when the two of you started to feel better, George had decided to take matters into his own hands and bring a little life back to the flat. 

“Dance with me,” he spoke out of the blue, coming up to you on the couch where you were currently quite content reading away.

“What?” you placed your bookmark in your page, placing the book onto the cushion next to you, “Now?”

He nodded, picking his wand up off of the end table and pointing it in the direction of the little radio by the window. An old tune — one that sounded a lot like the song that played at the Yule Ball, funnily enough — started playing throughout the room.

You shook your head, a small laugh leaving your lips as you placed your hand in his, “Since when are you a dancer, George Weasley?”

“For you, always,” he smirked, leading you to the open area of the room, one of his hands immediately finding your lower back. You felt your chest grow fluttery at his touch, every previous thought leaving your body as you melted into him.

Your hand linked in his, the other one resting against his shoulder. His eyes found yours and he gave you a genuine smile. Nothing cocky or teasing. Just a real, fond smile. 

“What’s this for, then?” you found your voice, the two of you moving in slow circles around the small space.

It wasn’t much, and neither of you were good at it, but it was romantic. You hadn’t even noticed that George had used his wand to light a few candles, the light of the flames dancing against the walls. 

“What?” he asked with a slight upturn of his chin, “Can’t a bloke just dance with his girl?”

You ignored the feeling of your heart swelling and gave him a grin, “Yes, actually. I think he can.”

The music was soft, but it was enough to really set the mood. As if you were a princess dancing with her prince, the world disappearing around the both of you and leaving you alone to dance under the moonlight. Or, really, the two of you alone in a small London flat. But a girl can dream, right?

George’s chest was warm as you pressed your forehead against it, revelling in this feeling of privacy and intimacy. You felt untouchable. 

“You’re really special, you know that?” his voice was soft, mouth close to your ear as he mumbled the words. 

You pulled away just enough to look up at him. There was something in his eyes — love, pride, admiration, or something similar — and you really did feel like you were all he could see. Like he had eyes only for you. 

“Could say the same about you,” your voice matched his in softness, eyes darting back and forth between his eyes and his lips. 

He beat you to the action, though, as he tilted his head down and closed the space between the two of you, warm lips pressed softly against yours. A million different feelings bubbled in the pit of your belly and you swore you would crack under the heavy blissful peace that soared through you. 

You loved him. 

There was no way you could deny it. 

Especially as the two of you stood there; lips moulded together as if they were meant to be, your bodies pressed against one another, and an unspoken mutual feeling of adoration passing between you two. 

You really did love him. And you hoped he loved you back. 

———————————————————————

one

The water of the bath was awfully warm. Perfect to contrast the gloomy grey skies and heavy raindrops that came down loudly against the window. For nearly mid-April, the weather was still awfully dreary. 

George’s fingers traced up and down your arms, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake despite the warmth of the bath water. It was warm enough to cause light steam to build on the mirror, and for the two glasses on the edge of the tub to build condensation, but not warm enough to deter your body’s natural reaction to George. 

Your head was resting against his chest, one of his hands against your skin and the other in your wet hair — which much to your dismay, was let down from the ponytail in which it was previously in. George’s orders, of course. 

“You smell nice,” he mumbled, his head leaned back against the tub, his own hair sticking up in spikes after he dipped his head under water, “So do I, actually.”

“It’s the soap, you goon,” you giggled, “That’s what soap does.”

“Goon?” he lifted his head, causing you to turn around and face him, your own body still resting against his, the feeling of his bare skin against yours causing a warmth to spread in your chest. 

“You’re a cute goon, though,” you winked, lifting one of your hands to flatten down his hair, “So it’s fine.”

He nodded, “Right. You’re lucky I love you.”

Not only did it feel like time stood still, but it felt like the both of you did too. The water went silent at the lack of movement, and the eye contact between the both of you felt so prolonged that neither of you could blink. 

Did he just say what you thought he said?

You knew, undoubtedly, that you had fallen head over feels for the ginger boy in front of you. He was the perfect partner in every sense of the word, really. He was caring, he was gentle, he was exciting, and he loved you. 

“You love me?” your voice felt as if it were bound to crack. You didn’t want to move or sit up, too afraid to disturb the moment. To break the connection that had been built with those three words. 

It was as if he himself wasn’t sure he had said them, but by the light smile that graced his gorgeous freckled face, you could tell he meant it. 

“Yeah, I do,” he nodded, “I dunno why it took me so bloody long to say it. But yes, I love you.”

A weight felt like it had been lifted off of your shoulders at the confession, a wave of powerful emotions threatening to smother you in replacement. 

“I love you too,” you didn’t even hesitate to say the words as you were so utterly sure of them. 

The tips of his ears turned a light shade of pink as his smile grew, lopsided and genuine, “That’s good, then.”

It was nearly impossible to hide your pure thrill, arms finding their way around his neck in an instant. He didn’t hesitate to wrap his right back around you, holding your body against his as if he were too bloody pleased to let go. 

“I love you,” he said again, so softly you barely even registered. If you were an inch further away, you might not have even heard it. 

You placed a light kiss on the underside of his jaw, once again relishing in the pride that blossomed at his involuntary shiver, “I love you too, Georgie.”

And Godric, did you ever. 

———

[yikesharringrove]

Egg the Cat

Chapter 2

Read on Ao3

-

Nancy flinched as an engine revved, a sleek blue muscle car pulling into the lot. 

Steve let himself focus on it. It was better than dwelling on his fucking essay, his impending shitty night spent with Barb’s parents, like he didn’t feel horrible enough about that whole situation. 

He watched the car pull into a space at the front of the lot. 

California plates.

“Who’s that?” Steve could picture Nancy wrinkling her nose as she said it, too focused on Billy getting out of his car to turn and see it for real. 

He narrowed his eyes at a young redhead getting out of the passenger side. 

Billy hadn’t said anything about a sibling. 

“That’s Billy. I met him last night.” He finally looked back at Nancy as Billy set off towards the school. “He found Egg downtown.” 

Nancy’s eyebrows flew nearly to her hairline. 

“Steve, I’m sorry, I forgot. Is she okay?”

“Yeah, Billy got her safe and sound. Still don’t know how she got out, though. Let alone made it all the way downtown.” He locked his car as they headed towards the high school, the warning bell sounding through the parking lot.

He reached for Nancy’s hand, his heart soaring when she let him take it. 

Sometimes she said his hands were too clammy. 

He walked her to her first class, kissing her softly by the door. 

Billy glared at the tiny brunette sitting in front of him. 

Steve hadn’t said anything about having a fucking girlfriend last night. 

And really, Billy should’ve known. He’s a hot guy, living in a town of not a lot of hot guys. It makes sense some girl would snap him up. 

It just felt like a slap in the face. 

It’s not like Billy thought he actually had a chance with Steve, but now all of his daydreams, any of his dirty thoughts featuring one Steve Harrington were gonna be tainted, by this prissy fucking bitch. 

Billy just spent all of his AP biology lecture boring holes into the back of her head. 

He didn’t really give a fuck if people noticed, thought it was weird. He was too busy channeling all of his anger, all of his hatred onto this skinny little priss. 

He hoped she could feel it, like maybe his anger gaze gave off palpable heat or something. 

Based on how many times she stuck her hand up to answer every question posed by the teacher, no, she couldn’t feel the heat of Billy’s rage. 

He couldn’t get out of there fast enough, only to find they shared all three of their morning classes. 

Because fuck Billy. 

And then he had to watch, had to stand there like a stupid gay fucking idiot as Steve lifted nancy off her feet, and made out with her against her locker. 

He stomped past, hoping to go unnoticed by-

“Billy!”

Fuck. 

He stopped dead in his tracks, taking a few deep breaths before turning, plastering his best I am so charming and I don’t hate your girlfriend for no reason smile on his face. 

Steve was all sunshiney again today. Billy mentally kicked the little voice in his head saying that sunshine is for you. 

“Hey, man! How’s your first day going?” Steve had his girl tucked under his arm. She looked like a frail little bird. Billy hoped Steve’s cat ate her for breakfast one day soon.

“Well, you got mad at me last night when I called this place a shithole, so I’m just going to heavily imply it.” Steve laughed, his head tipping back a little, eyes crinkling at the corners. 

Billy tried to think about his dad, tied to think about the shelf bruises on his back. 

And then Steve was pressing a sheet of paper into his hand, and their fingers fucking brushed and Billy tried, tried to think of a broken arm and cops at his house, and not holding fucking hands with Steve Harrington. 

He studied the paper, just to look somewhere that wasn’t Steve’s eyes. A lighter shade of brown in the fluorescent lights, a shade bordering on green. 

Come and get sheetfaced. 

“Hawkins parties will probably be lame compared to what you’re familiar with, but I mean, it should be fun.” Billy just nodded, eyes trained on the little ghost. “We’ll be there. Nancy and I.” Nancy. That’s a stupid fucking name. “Y’know, if you aren’t too cool for us by then.”

Steve was smirking at him a little when Billy finally looked up. 

“I’m already cooler than you, Harrington.” Fuck. It sounded way meaner than Billy had wanted, sounded actually rude, not like a little ribbing. Not like a little tongue-in-cheek reference to last night. Cold shit. 

But then Steve tossed his head back, and he laughed, a full belly laugh, and he clapped Billy on the shoulder, and Billy has never felt gayer in his entire life. 

“Harsh, man. Real harsh. Wait ‘til I tell Egg you said that, she’ll never want to see you again .” And Steve was still smiling at him, and he had maybe, alluded to Billy seeing his cat again, which meant seeing Steve outside of school, and Nancy was looking down the hall, like this conversation was below her pay grade, and Billy wanted. 

“See, that’s why I’m cooler than you. I don’t go telling my cat all my lame drama.”

“That’s because you don’t have a cat,” Steve said playfully, his face falling a bit. “Wait, you don’t have a cat, do you?” Billy shrugged.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” And Steve smiled at him, and the bell rang, and Nancy rolled her eyes before pressing herself out from underneath Steve’s arm, and Steve’s big sweet eyes snapped onto her. 

“I’ve got to get to Calculus.” Billy’s heart sank. They shared four classes so far. 

Steve just leaned down to kiss her, one hand cradling the side of her face. Billy looked away.

“I love you.” He had to suppress a snort as Nancy said it back, her voice all pitchy and off. 

But Steve reached out to clap Billy on the shoulder again. 

“I better see you tonight!” And he was off down the hall, and Billy, once again, made a point not to look at his ass. 

-

“You gotta be home by nine-thirty, okay, Shitbird?” Max rolled her eyes again. 

“Billy, I know what time I need to be home by.”

“Just making sure, because you know if you don’t make curfew, I’m somehow gonna be blamed for it.” Billy had only gotten out of playing babysitter this evening when Max had nearly thrown a full tantrum at the idea of trick-or-treating with adult supervision while she’s trying to make friends. 

She just looked at him sharply, her lips pursing a bit. 

“I’ll be home.” Her voice had an edge to it. Billy didn’t really know how to take it.

“Be safe.” She didn’t acknowledge him, just got out of the car, a little Michael Myers heading into the swarm of children. 

He pulled down the road, the party address only a few blocks from where Max was meeting her friends. 

He slammed a beer the minute he entered the party, didn’t want to be sober for a second of this shitfest. 

Steve had been right. This party didn’t hold a fuckin’ candle to what he frequented down in Cali. 

He tried to make the best of it, beat the keg stand record, found some stupid jocks that were more than happy to parade around him all night. 

He just had to get to that sweet spot, drunk enough he would actually get hard with a girl, but not too drunk he’d get whiskey dick. He didn’t need that to be his reputation in this shitty town. 

He was being pulled through the crowd by some freckly fucker dressed as the guy from Karate Kid. Max had made him take her to that movie six times in the theaters. Billy had slept through it every time. 

He was feeling pretty okay, the beer settling into his system, giving him a warm buzz as he studied the party. Maybe he could find some punk kids, score some weed or-

Steve Harrington.  

The karate guy had shoved him in front of Steve, had said, guess who’s the new Keg King, Harrington?

Steve was glaring at the guy, drawn up to his full height, shoulders squared, all of that melting as he turned to Billy, smiling warmly at him. 

Fucking sunshine. 

“Nice job, Dude!” And Steve took Billy’s hand, and he pulled him into a one-armed fucking hug. 

Billy was absolutely stunned. Maybe a little bit hard as he pat his hand against Steve’s back. Felt his muscles moving under his jacket. 

But then Steve pulled back, his eyes trailing after his fucking girlfriend, and he was gone, followed her into the kitchen. 

Billy wanted to tear out his fucking hair. 

He went the opposite way as Steve, pushing through the sweaty crowd. 

He really didn’t need to see Steve coddling his girl. 

He shoved his way into the backyard, vaulting the low fence on the porch, making his way out of the yellowed light spilling out of the house. 

He pulled out a cigarette, lighting it quickly. 

Fucking idiot. You knew you couldn’t have any fucking boy in this goddamn town.

But Billy had come into this town really not expecting any boy to actually catch his eye. 

Not like Steve has. 

Steve with his stupid big eyes, and his stupid big hair, and his stupid cat named fucking Egg. Who names a cat Egg? That’s a dumb fucking name. 

Billy lit his next cigarette with the dying remains of the last one. 

He thought about calling it quits, heading home early. 

But it wasn’t even ten yet, and really, he needed to fool around with a chick tonight. He needed to establish himself as a lady killer. 

Sleep with one girl, and the rumors would build enough that he probably wouldn’t have to fuck any others, just not deny it when any girl claims they had a wild night of passion. 

It was safer that way. Gave him some cushion. 

Then, if any of the lies began to unravel, he’ll just fuck another one, and let the rumor mill do its trick. 

Besides, he can find a brunette, make her take it from behind. If he’s lucky, the party’ll be loud enough he can tune out her moans, picture someone else, picture him -

The backdoor slammed against the wall as someone stomped outside. 

Billy just took another deep drag, hoped he wouldn’t be noticed. 

But, of course-

Steve didn’t even ask, just took the cigarette out of Billy’s mouth, taking a long fucking drag. 

He rolled his shoulders, let his head fall back, blowing the smoke out towards the sky. 

“Y’know, I fucking quit smoking because of her. Not like I did it a lot, but still .” Billy just stayed quiet. He really didn’t want to talk about Steve’s fucking girlfriend. “Because I actually cared .” Oh, now wait a minute.

“What happened?” 

Steve shot him a dark look.

“You weren’t inside?” 

Billy just gestured to the cigarette Steve was now sucking on once again. Billy kept his focus on Steve’s left earlobe. Didn’t care to get a semi just from looking at his lips. 

“Lovers’ quarrel?”

“Does repeatedly being called bullshit and having her tell you she doesn’t love you count as a lovers’ quarrel?”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.” Steve tossed the cigarette to the ground, stomping it out. Billy didn’t know what to say. 

What he wanted to say was you ever sucked dick? And then maybe take Steve’s mind off of everything by fucking his face, but that felt a little forward, felt a little gay. 

“ Fuck .”

Oh, shit. 

Steve was fucking, Steve was gonna cry. Standing outside with Billy, barely lit by the light filtering through the small frosted bathroom window. 

“ Next week .” Steve’s voice cracked. “We would’ve been together one year next week. And she was pretending .” Steve slumped back against the wall, his face buried in both his hands. “I, I changed everything for her. I stopped seeing my friends because she didn’t like them, I stopped smoking because she said it was gross, I changed who I am as a fucking person. And you know, granted, I am a better person. But I’m different, because of her, and she just, she threw all of it away.”

He sniffed loudly, his shoulders stuttering. 

Billy felt like his guts were on fucking fire. 

“Fuck her. Fuck her. You are a good guy. And if she’s too much of a bitch to see that, she doesn’t deserve you.” Steve didn’t acknowledge him for a while. Billy just let it be, lit another cigarette. 

“I think I’m gonna go home. I wanna see my cat.” Steve sounded like a little kid. Like a heartbroken little kid. 

“You good to drive?” And Steve finally pulled his head out of his hands. 

His big eyes were shining, his cheeks wet, glistening in the low light. 

“I don’t drink anymore. Because she said I’m an asshole when I’m drunk.”

Billy weighed his words carefully. 

“I’ve got a bottle of tequila in my car if you wanna stick it to her.” Steve gave him a watery smile. 

“You wanna follow me to my place?”

[atlafan]

Office Neighbors - Part Eight

a/n: a very Andy heavy part, not proofread (reblogs and feedback are super helpful!)

warnings: slight angst, fluff, and smut

words: 15K

masterpost

“I’m not gonna let you talk to her until you both settle down!” Harry shouts at his mother and sister.

“We’re settled, just dial the number!” Anne shouts back.

“Yeah, the TV can only occupy all the kids for so long.” Gemma says. “She’s probably waiting as it is.”

Harry was ready to throw up. He couldn’t remember the last time he introduced a woman to his family, and it wouldn’t even be a proper introduction since it was over FaceTime.

“Okay, okay, Christ.” He swipes your contact. “Just let me say hi to her first before you two jump in.”

You answer after a moment, you were sitting up on your bed at Phil and Julian’s. You made sure your hair and makeup were done, and your headphones were in, just in case there were wandering ears.

“Hi, Y/N.” Harry smiles warmly.

“Hey! How’s everything going?”

“Good! Everyone’s good. We all decorated my sister’s tree last night.”

“Oh, fun! Phil made sweet potato pancakes they were so good.”

“That’s great.” He smiles.

“Yeah.” You smile.

You see a hand smack Harry’s shoulder and you suck your lips into your mouth to keep from laughing.

“Right, well, my mum and sister are here…” He side eyes Gemma. “Would you like to say hello?”

“I would.” You nod. It was the whole point of the FaceTime, but you thought it was sweet he was being so formal. Both Anne and Gemma come into view and smile. “Hello! It’s nice to sort of meet you both.” You chuckle.

“Same to you, dear!” Anne says brightly. “Oh, Harry, she’s lovely.” She whispers, but you hear her.

“Yeah, I know it’s not the same as in person, but this works.” Gemma says. “Hope we didn’t wake you up too early for this…”

“Not at all! I was up anyways getting some work done. How’s the weather over there? It flurried a bit, but it hasn’t been too bad.”

“Freezing rain here, I’m afraid.” Harry says.

“Is that Y/N? Hi, Y/N!” Andy says as he comes into the kitchen where the meeting was occurring.

“Andy.” Harry sighs. “You’re supposed to be-“

“Oh, just give the damn phone to me. You know her plenty, Mum and I don’t, so shoo!” Gemma snatches the phone from Harry, and Anne follows her into the adjacent room.

“Well…isn’t that just perfect.” Harry says to Andy.

“Auntie Gem told me to do it, sorry.” Andy giggles and runs out of the room while Harry chases him.

“Sorry about that, things can get a little hectic around here.” Anne laughs.

“Oh, it’s no problem.” You chuckle.

“So, where are you this week?” Gemma asks.

“I’m staying at my brother’s place in Boston. I’ll be here until the day after New Year’s. My friends and I usually get together for the fireworks and all that.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun!” Anne says. “I can’t remember the last time I actually stayed up late enough to watch the ball drop.” She laughs. “I’m usually home watching all the kids while Harry and Gemma go out.”

“Yeah, we have a couple of parties of our own to go to. Lots of friends for Harry to see. He’s quite popular amongst our group.”

“That’s nice, you share a lot of the same friends?”

“Oh, sure.” Gemma shrugs. “We’re only a couple of years apart in age, and we worked at the same bakery growing up, sort of attached at the hip.”

“You two were awfully cute. They’d even willingly wear matching Halloween costumes.” Anne says. “Remember the year you were Mario and he was Princess Peach?”

“Now that’s something I’d love to see.” You say.

“Okay!” Harry bolts into the room and snatches his phone. “Think you’ve all chatted long enough.”

“You got an entire meal with her family, I think it’s only fair-“

“Mum! Lizzy won’t stop touching me!”

“I’m not doing anything!”

“Seems like your kids need you.” Harry sneers.

“Wonderful, three brats.” She rolls her eyes. “It was nice chatting, Y/N.” Gemma says as she leaves the room the scope out the scene.

“I better go help her.” Anne chuckles as follows out as well.

“So…Princess Peach, huh? You don’t still happen to have that costume do you? I bet you look lovely in a dress.”

“I was five.” Harry rolls his eyes. “And you’re right, I look exceptional in a dress.”

“They’re very nice, your mum and sister. Um…is Gemma not married, or…?”

“She’s widowed, unfortunately.” Harry whispers. “That’s why my mum lives with her, she needed help with her kids and I obviously wasn’t around. It sucked, he had cancer.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s been a few years, she’s doing much better, but she doesn’t date. She’s tried, but it’s too much.”

“I don’t blame her.”

“Did you have a nice Hanukkah with your family?”

“I did! I refereed a game of dreidel for my younger cousins, it was pretty funny.”

“You really like kids, don’t you?”

“I love kids.” You blush.

“Suppose that’s why you’re so good with them then, huh?” He was blushing too, but he was giving you that toothy smile you loved so much.

“I miss you, Harry.”

“I miss you too.”

“Dad…you better get in there…Lizzy and Ritchie have started to wrestle.”

“Better go pry them apart.” Harry chuckles. “I’ll talk to you soon, love you.”

“Love you too, bye Andy!”

You sigh as you hang up. You knew you’d physically get meet everyone someday so it would be less chaotic, but it was nice to meet them nonetheless.

//

On New Year’s Eve you throw on a black turtleneck bodysuit and a pair of jeans with some booties. You head out with Phil and Julian once they’re both home from work to meet your other friends at the bar. You send Harry a quick selfie, wanting to still look cute before you inevitably got sweaty and drunk. It was already the New Year in London, and Harry had sent you a selfie before he went out. It was sweet.

“Y/N!” Your best friend Nora squeals as soon as you see her.

“Hey!” You squeal back and hug her.

“It’s so good to see you, I’m so glad we could get together for this.”

“Same here, I know hard it is for you to get away…”

“Oh, don’t be silly. Wouldn’t miss a New Year’s in Boston. Hi Phil, hi, Julian.”

“Hi, Nora.” Phil smiles. “Y/N, we’re gonna go get a booth.”

“Okay, I think I’ll hang by the bar for bit with the crew.”

You say hello to your other friends: Claudia, Mark, and Darcy.

“Okay, so, where’s your man? We’ve been dying to meet him.” Mark says.

“He’s in London with his family.” You shrug. “You’ll meet him eventually, I promise.”

“Too bad, Nora says he’s quite the hunk.” Claudia says.

You side eye your friend as she laughs.

“You send me the best pictures, how could I not share?”

“His tattoos are really interesting.” Darcy says. “Never thought you’d be into a guy so inked up.”

“Neither did I, but I like them a lot.” You bite the rim of your cup and smile.

“I feel like it’s been forever since you’ve been serious with someone.” Mark says. “What’s it about this one?”

“Yeah, doesn’t he have a kid?” Claudia asks.

“He does…and I care a lot about him. His name is Andy, and he’ll be twelve in May.”

“Twelve?!” They all exclaim.

“How old is this guy?” Darcy asks.

“He’ll be thirty-three at the beginning of February. Would you all calm down? He had his son young, it is what it is.” You shrug.

“I knew you wanted to be a mom, but shit.” Nora laughs. “Whatever, you’re happy, right?”

“Very.”

“Then that’s all that matters. Now, I’m much more interested to hear how your love life is going, Mark.”

“Single and ready to find some New Year’s dick tonight.”

You all burst into laughter and clink your glasses. You all end up bar hopping a bit, saying goodbye to your brother and letting him know you’ll be back whenever, which he has no problem with. You get pretty sloshed with your friends, and you ended up at a dance club. You were having an incredible time. The club had plenty of TV’s going so a little before midnight, you all huddle together to watch the ball drop. You all kiss each other’s cheeks, it was cute. You feel your phone buzzing, and it’s a FaceTime request from Harry.

“Hello?!” You shout.

“Happy New Year!” He smiles. You nearly melt. He was still in bed, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses yet, and his hair was all floppy. “Where are you?”

“At a club, and-“

“Is that him?!” Nora shouts and goes behind your shoulder. “Oooo, look at him! Hiya hot stuff!”

“Isn’t it, like, really early in London?” Claudia slurs to Darcy.

“Yeah, babe, isn’t it, like, six in the morning?”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I was getting up anyways, and I wanted to call.”

“Aww.” You and your friends swoon.

“Well…I can see you’re busy, so I’ll let you go.”

“Okay! Happy New Year, love you!” You hang up before he can say it back.

“Damn, Y/N, he’s handsome.” Mark says.

“Mhm, and he’s allll mine.” You giggle with your friends.

//

“There’s my baby!” Paige exclaims as Andy gets off the plane. She throws her arms around him and kisses him. “Did you have a good time?”

“Yeah! Grammy and Auntie Gem say hi.” He holds her hand as they make their way to baggage.

“Oh, that’s nice of them. You had fin with Lizzy and Ritchie?”

“Yeah, we got to play the new game Y/N got me.”

“What game is that?”

“What Do You Meme, it’s a lot of fun.”

“Well, that was very nice of her to get that for you. Seemed like you got a lot of other nice gifts from when we spoke on Christmas.”

“Mhm, and Grammy got me a ton of new clothes. She got me those sneakers I’ve been wanting.”

“She sure has an eye for fashion, huh?” She chuckles. “So, we’re going to grab your bag and then Noah and Rachel are waiting in the car. Are you too tired for lunch?”

“No, I slept pretty well on the plane. One of the attendants sat with me and held my hand when we took off.”

“I love it when they do that for you, that’s so nice.”

“Gram’s not coming for lunch?”

“No, she ended up going to New York with Auntie Allie for New Year’s…she’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Alright, it’ll be nice then, just the four of us.”

“Yeah, it will. Everyone missed you, honey.”

Andy actually enjoys his lunch with everyone. He and Rachel talk about their new gifts. It warmed Paige’s heart to being having some real family time. The few days Andy is home is wonderful, and come Sunday, you show up to pick Andy up. You’d be having brunch with Paige before taking Andy back to Harry’s. You made sure to stock the fridge with all his favorites already. You take a deep breath, and ring the bell. After a couple of moment, Paige answers the door.

“Y/N!” She says brightly. “Come on in, you must be freezing.”

“Hi, thanks.” You smile and enter the home. She takes your coat and hangs it up. It was oddly quiet. “Where is everyone?”

“Oh, well, my sister came back with my mom late last night, so they’re out with Andy now having a brunch of their own, and Rachel has Hebrew school on Sunday mornings, and they usually get lunch together after that. So it’s just us two, I’ve got quite the spread for us, come into the kitchen.”

She really did have quite the spread. Bagels, cream cheese, eggs, juice, and fruit.

“Wow, you didn’t have to do all this…”

“Oh, sure I did. Would you like some coffee?”

“That’d be great, thank you.”

She nods and gestures for you to sit while she gets the coffee.

“I’m so glad we could finally get together to do this. I feel like I know you, but don’t at the same time.” She sips her coffee and makes up a plate, as do you. “Did you have a nice holiday?”

“I did, yeah, thank you. Did you?”

“As good as it could have been, I suppose.” She nods. “It was weird without my dad, but that’s life.” She shrugs.

“I’m so sorry, it must have been difficult.”

“It was weird, all of the fun helped distract us, but I know it was really hard for my mother. The first holidays without them are always the hardest.” You nod at her. “Anyways, I…oh, that’s a lovely necklace.” She points to your palm tree, and you clutch at it.

“Thank you, um, Harry got it for me.” You swallow.

“This doesn’t need to be weird, Y/N.” She smirks. “You’re in his life, which means you’re in my son’s life, and I just wanna know more about you, that’s all. This isn’t a one way street either, if there’s anything you’d like to know about me I’d be happy to answer.”

“I know…I have to admit, I was a little nervous to be one on one with you. I hope you know, I care a lot about Andy.”

“No need to be nervous. Harry trusts you, so I do too.” She shrugs. “He’s always been such a great judge in character.”

“Can I ask…how did you two meet?”

“Oh, god, years ago when we were in college. He came to our school when he was a sophomore, and joined our group. I was dating this other guy at the time, but we became fast friends. He was always so sweet. The other guy and I broke up eventually, and then I can’t quite recall what it was, but long story short Harry and I got together. I graduated a year ahead of him, but we made it work.”

“And Andy was an accident?”

“He certainly wasn’t planned.” She laughs. “I’ll spare you the details, but we were shocked to say the least when we found out. I was already working at the law office, thank god, so I had some decent benefits and maternity leave and all that.”

“Were you scared being so young?”

“A little…I was more so worried at the time about being so far away from Harry. I had started working in this area, so we were long distance. I was grateful he found a grad program in the area that worked for him. I sort of felt guilty for making him grow up so fast, but I got over it. He really stepped up.”

“He’s a great dad.”

“He really is! He was a natural right away.”

“And…it just didn’t work out between you two?”

“I was sort of stubborn, and a little resentful. He was getting to work on his career, and I felt like I was in a rut. My parents were getting to me…and…one morning I woke up and looked at him and realized I just wasn’t in love. When we were dating in school it was just fun, you know? I hadn’t really been given the chance to see if I wanted something future wise with him. For all I knew, he could have decided to go back to London, you know? It was awful because we were living together, and we had Andy, and I just couldn’t figure out how to end it, and then…well, he asked me to marry him, and that was when I knew it had to be over, so I told him no and we broke up. I felt sick over it because I knew I hurt him.”

You blink as you take all of the information in. Sometimes people just weren’t compatible, and that was okay, and maybe Harry had been looking at things with rose colored glasses.

“His parents were divorced growing up, so I think he thought getting married would make everything better. We fought a lot, things just stopped being fun.” She shrugs. “But that was all a long time ago, and we worked on things for Andy’s sake, and I’d like to think we’re doing right by him now. He raves about you, they both do, and it makes me so happy to hear it.”

“You really want what’s best for Harry, huh?”

“I do.” She nods. “And for my son, obviously. I know at times it may seem weird that Harry and I are sort of close…especially after my father died, but it’s really not always like that. It’s not like we text or talk every day. We only meet up when we absolutely have to. I think sometimes when we see each other more we fall into that old patter of friendship, but it doesn’t go further than that, I hope you can see that. I love Noah, I really feel like he’s the person I’m supposed to be with.”

“I…feel that way about Harry.” You mutter and sip your coffee, but you don’t miss her smile.

“That makes me so happy to hear, you have no idea.” She gives your hand a squeeze. “So, tell me, you’re working on your PhD, and then what?”

“Hopefully become a full professor at some point. I really like working at the university, so I won’t be going anywhere once I finish.”

“I just hope they give you a pay bump afterwards. Harry had to fight for his, he honestly almost left when they said no, but they didn’t want to lose him.”

“Right.”

“You’re just on a yearly contract, right?”

“Yeah, I can’t go for tenure until I have my doctorate.”

“Do you have anything planned for while you’re with Andy?”

“I have a couple of craft ideas, yeah. You’re not mad he wanted to stay with me?”

“No, I get it. He was so annoyed last year when he had to get up earlier for school and all that. Plus…right now he still enjoys seeing my mother, my biggest fear is that if he’s here a lot he may not like the visits as much. She’s sweet on him now, but she has this way of saying these little things that eventually just get under your skin.”

“God, I’m so sorry, that must be so difficult.”

“I’m just glad she has her own section of the house to putter around in.”

“Would she ever go back to living in a condo or anything? Maybe there’s some type of old folks community she could go to.”

“They were living in one before, but she really doesn’t want to live alone, and I don’t blame her. As shrill as she can be, I know she likes being around people.” She sighs. “Look, I guess I just wanted to say that I’m glad Harry has you, and I’m glad Andy has you too. Becoming a blended family isn’t easy, and I’m sure Harry having to watch me move on wasn’t easy either. He had started talking about you here and there, his new office neighbor, and how funny she was.” Paige grins. “I knew right away he had a little crush on you. I’d never seen him play it so cool because I’ve only ever known him as a flirt, but I know it’s different when you work with someone.”

“Andy told me something similar. God, how embarrassing for him to be gushing about me.” You chuckle.

“No, it was so sweet! I remember when he asked if he could bring a friend to Andy’s party, as if he needed my permission. We were very excited to meet you. I’m glad things have been going so well for you two.”

“Thanks, that means a lot.”

“You and I don’t need to be best friends or anything, but I definitely want us to be friendly, you know? I look at Noah and Harry, and I know there are times they have their own squabbles, but it’s nice they get along so well. I want you to feel comfortable here.”

“That’s very kind of you, thank you. I definitely don’t feel nervous around you anymore. Um, so, is there anything I should know about taking care of Andy for longer than just a few hours?”

“He’ll try to get more TV time, and he loves talking on the phone with his friends, if you don’t cap it at an hour, he’ll wrack up the phone bill. He won’t admit it, but he still likes the crust cut off his sandwiches. Oh! You’ll need to help him with his hair after he showers.”

“What does he need help with?”

“Well, there’s this special mousse he uses to help his curls really come out. Harry uses it, so he likes using it. You need to dry his hair with a t-shirt, and then comb through it. Then you have to get the mousse in your hands and run it through his hair. It’s best if he doesn’t shower right before bed because then you have to let it air dry.”

“Okay, very good to know. I don’t think I’ve been over when Harry’s helped him with that.”

“Other than that, it’s just helping him with homework and packing lunches. He’s not one of those kids that needs to sleep with you if he has a scary dream or anything like that. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to call me, alright?”

“Alright.” You smile at her and she smiles back. You’re able to finish the rest of your meal in peace.

A little while later Andy comes in with his Gram and Auntie Allie.

“Y/N!” He shoots over to you and gives you a hug.

“Hi, did you have a good flight and all that?”

“Yeah! I’ll go up and get my stuff.”

“Okay.” You chuckle as he races upstairs.

“You both remember Y/N from Andy’s birthday party, right?” Paige says to her sister and mother.

“Yes, hi.” Allie smiles and shakes your hand. “Good to see you again.”

“You too.” You smile. “Hello Lydia.” You shake her hand and you watch as she sizes you up.

“Hello, so, you’re taking my grandson from me?”

“Mom, please.” Paige says. “Andy wants to be able to stay at home easier with Harry gone.”

“This is home too.”

“It is, but he goes to school in another town, so it’ll be easier for him to stay with Y/N.”

“You’re always giving in so easily, Paige, you should have never let-“

“Pardon me, but what are you doing?” You say.

“Excuse me?” Lydia says.

“No, I don’t think I will. Were you seriously just about to start an argument with your daughter about her son in front me? What is wrong with you? She’s his mother, I think she knows what she’s doing. You may have zero clue about what it’s like to raise a child with someone you’re not with, but she’s doing her best. I think it takes a lot of strength and courage to change up a living arrangement the way she did. It may not be my place to say because I’m just the girlfriend of the guy who she used to be with, and I know you just lost your husband, but you need to check yourself lady.”

Allie sucks her lips in to keep from laughing, and Paige has to do the same. This was prime entertainment.

“Maybe she feels like she can’t stand up to you because she’s trying to keep the peace, but she shouldn’t have to do that in her own home. You should be grateful she didn’t ship you off to a retirement home. I’m sure you have a lot of things to be angry about, but let it go. Your daughter’s made a wonderful life for herself, and I think you should recognize that before it’s too late.”

Andy comes down with his things, and goes over to give everyone a hug.

“Thanks again for lunch Gram.”

“You’re, um, more than welcome sweetheart.” She was in shock.

“See on Friday, Mum.” Andy says as he hugs his mother. “Bye, Auntie Allie, love you.”

“Love you too.”

“It was nice seeing everyone. Thanks again for brunch, Paige, it was wonderful.” You and Andy head out and leave them all stunned.

“Oh, I like her.” Allie says with a laugh.

“Who speaks to a stranger that way?!” Lydia says.

“She had a point.” Paige says. “Who starts an argument in front of a stranger? And, fuck it, she’s not a stranger! She’s Harry’s girlfriend, his serious girlfriend, who I happen to like, and Andy adores her. She was right mom, you need to check yourself. Take some time to figure out your priorities because I can’t live like this! I’m walking on eggshells in my own home. My home, not yours.”

“Okay, can everyone just take a deep breath?” Allie says. “Let’s just sit down and have a conversation without this becoming a screaming match.”

//

As you drive Andy to Harry’s, you hear him trying to bite back a laugh.

“What’s so funny back there?”

“Nothing, it’s just…I’ve heard my dad raise his voice at Gram before, and hearing you do the same thing just proves you two are a good couple.”

“Oh god, you heard me?”

“Yeah, but it’s okay. Thanks for standing up for my mom.”

“Of course! She’s a really nice person, she doesn’t deserve to be talked down to in her own home like that. I couldn’t just stand there and let it happen.” You scoff. “Anyways, what do you say when we get back we get you unpacked and then we talk lunches for the week?”

“Sounds good to me. Thanks again for wanting to stay with me.”

“I’m happy to do it. It’ll be fun.”

“Do you think…um, if it goes well, that you’ll move in?”

Your eyes grow wide and your heart skips a beat.

“That’s a conversation I’d need to have with your dad, Andy. It’s sort of a big deal for two people to move in together. I’ll be honest with you, I don’t think I’m ready for that, but I really do enjoy staying over when I do.”

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it.” He shrugs.

You turn up the music and take a deep breath. Once you get Andy inside, and he unpacks his things you go into the kitchen with him to discuss lunches for the week.

“Just pb and j’s are fine, it doesn’t need to be fancy.”

“I know, but I wanna make sure you’re not hungry. I could cut up some carrots for you and put some chips in there too. Would you like that?”

“Yeah, whatever.” He shrugs. “Are you gonna make baked ziti tomorrow? Dad usually gets up early on Monday mornings to get it all together and then he just throws it in the oven when we get home.”

“Sure, I can make that. I don’t know if it’ll come out as good though.”

“I’ll get up early to help you, hold on a second.” Andy goes down to the basement where Harry has another freezer and comes back up with a container of sauce. “This needs to thaw overnight in the fridge.”

“Thank god you remembered, I wouldn’t have even thought about it. So it’s pretty much just boil the pasta and get it together with the sauce?”

“Mhm.”

“Alright, I shouldn’t need your help then. What time should I wake you up in the morning?”

“6:30.”

“Okay.” You nod. “Well, I know you had a big lunch, so just let me know when you feel hungry and I’ll whip up something for dinner.”

“Sounds good, I’m gonna go hang out in my room.”

“I’ll be up in the loft working if you need me.” You smile.

You: hey baby, I’m at your place with Andy. I’m gonna make him pb and j’s for lunch this week :)

Harry: that sounds great! Just make sure to cut the crust off, he won’t tell you to do it, but that’s how he likes it

You: so I’ve heard…I had a nice time with Paige today

Harry: not too awkward?

You: not really no, although, I did tell off her mom

Harry: you did?!

You: yeah, she was about to start some argument with Paige in front of me and I was like uhhh I think the fuck not!

Harry: lmao good for you, like I said, Lydia can be a bitch

You: for real

Harry: what are you up to now?

You: I’m gonna get some work done, wbu

Harry: just reading, the house is finally a little quieter…got my big meeting tomorrow

You: I know! I can’t wait to hear all about it

Harry: maybe we could FaceTime after??

You: definitely!

Harry: maybe we could plan it for when I’m getting ready for bed 😈 😈 😈

You: you’re an idiot

Harry: come on! Could be fun

You: normally I’d be game for phone sex, but at the time you’d be going to bed, I’d be eating dinner with your son, not exactly appropriate

Harry: maybe you could just send me a sexy pic then

You: a sexy pic?! How old are you???

Harry: 32, you’ve got a shit memory babe

You: you’re not helping your case

Harry: just teasing!

You: mhm, I’m going to do some work now

Harry: okay, okay I’m sorry

You: don’t be I just blah because I got my period this morning…so no sexy pics, but maybe when Andy goes back to Paige’s we could get a little frisky over the phone

Harry: sounds like an excellent compromise to me darling

//

You get up early the next morning to put the baked ziti together, and then you get Andy’s lunch box all set. You take a quick shower, and get dressed before going to wake up Andy. You gently open his door and peep your head in.

“Andy?” You coo. “It’s time to get up.” You hear him groan. “I’ve been told not to leave until you actually get up.”

“Ugh, fine.” He rips his blanket off and puts his feet on the floor. “Happy?”

“Very.” You smile. “Any requests for breakfast?”

“Oatmeal, please.” He yawns and you nod.

You drop Andy off at school on time, and wave to him as he walks inside. Morning one is done, you can do this.

Andy goes to his locker and puts what he doesn’t need away, and grabs his things for his first few classes.

“Andy!” Brandon exclaims and hugs him.

“Oof!” He giggles. “Almost knocked me over.”

“Sorry.” Brandon steps back and clears his throat. “How was London?”

“It was great, I had so much fun. How was your holiday?”

“It was good. Connecticut isn’t as exciting as London though.” He laughs and they both head to homeroom.

They sit in their seats and talk with their other friends. Their teacher comes in speaking with another student. Andy does a double take and his eyes grow wide. It was a girl with long, flowing brown hair. She had it up in a ponytail on the top of her head, held with a blue scrunchie.

“Hey, who’s that?” He asks his friends.

“Never seen her before.” Brandon says.

“Everyone!” The teacher says after the second bell rings. “Let’s settle down. I hope you all had a wonderful break. Today I’m excited to introduce a new student, Caroline Stearn, I hope you all will give her a warm welcome. Caroline, would you like to say a few things about yourself?”

“Um…sure? Hi, I’m Caroline, I just moved here from Maine…my mom just got a teaching job at the university down the road and my dad also just started working at the university, but he works in IT. I have three older sisters, they’re all in high school.”

“Thank you Caroline, why don’t you have a seat in front of Andy over there?”

She nods and does as told. She smiles at Andy and he smiles back. The teacher starts talking about whatever news the students need before homeroom is over.

“I’m Andy.” He whispers, and she turns around almost surprised.

“Nice to meet you.” She smiles.

“I was new here last year…but I came from a school a couple towns over.” He smirks. “You can sit with us at lunch if you want.”

“Really?” She sounds relieved. “That’d be great, thanks.”

He nods and she faces back front. He looks over at Brandon who was making a face at him. Andy mouths ‘what’ at him, and Brandon rolls his eyes. Andy felt nervous, but he wasn’t sure why.

//

“Carline, how’s your first day going so far?” Tyler asks her during lunch.

“It’s okay. “ She shrugs. “Everyone seems nice so far.”

“Do you miss living in Maine at all?” Andy asks. She was sitting next to him.

“Honestly, not really.” She giggles. “We were from a really small town with nothing to do.” Everyone at the table bursts out laughing. “What?” Her face was red now.

“And this town doesn’t scream small town to you?” Brandon says. “The closest arcade is thirty minutes away, same with the movie theater. There’s literally nothing to do.”

“My class sizes back home were ten people max. There’s like twenty of us here.” She says shyly and takes a bite of her sandwich. She sees Andy’s and smiles. “You don’t like the crust either?”

“No.” He smiles at her. “You know what’s funny? My dad’s girlfriend made this for me, and I didn’t even have to ask her to cut it off. She’s like, psychic or something.”

“Oh yeah, Y/N’s staying with you, right?” Brandon chimes in.

“Mhm, she told off my Gram yesterday. It was so funny. She’s so cool, I’m really glad my dad’s with her. He can be so lame sometimes.” He rolls his eyes, and then looks at Caroline. “Sorry, that must all sound confusing.”

“It’s okay. Maybe we could get together some time and you could explain it to me.”

Andy nearly chokes on his sandwich. He takes a sip of his water, and starts nodding.

“Yeah, um, we could definitely do that.”

“Cool.” She smiles.

“Cool.” He smiles back, and then look up at Brandon who just rolls his eyes.

//

Since you had time before classes started back up in a couple of more weeks, you decide to go to the library to get some work done, rather than go to your office. It would almost be too quiet. Normally you’d just sleep in, but it was almost good you needed to be up for Andy, it would keep you in a routine. Lisa was hoping to see a very rough draft of your work once the second semester started.

You get a fuck ton done before needing to pick Andy up at 2:30. You decide to stop off at Dunkin beforehand to surprise him with a hot chocolate as a treat. The first day back to school after a break always felt long as a kid, so you thought you’d do something to potentially perk him up. As you pull up you see Andy walking out with Brandon, but also with a young girl. He waves goodbye to Brandon and hangs back with the girl.

“Thanks for being so nice to me today.”

“It’s not like you made it hard…” He blushes. “Um, so, you were thinking maybe Thursday after school?”

“Yeah! It would have to be your house, though, we’re still unpacking.”

“I’ll ask my dad’s girlfriend, I’m sure she won’t mind.”

“Okay…I’m excited.”

“Me too.”

“Oh! There’s my mom’s car, I better go. Bye, Andy.”

“Bye, Caroline.”

Andy sees your car and races over, getting into the back seat.

“Hi, how was school?”

“It was…really great actually.”

“Oh, good. Here, I got you a hot chocolate.”

“You’re the best, Y/N! Thanks.”

“You’re welcome…um, who was that girl you were just talking to?” You ask as you start to drive away.

“Oh, that was Caroline. She’s new, I helped her out a little bit today. I was actually sort of hoping she could come over after school Thursday.” He mutters.

“I’ll have to ask your dad if girls are allowed over.” You smirk. “You might have to hang out in a more open area.”

“Brandon and I don’t have to do that…”

“Very true, but even still, you and Brandon don’t keep the door closed when he’s over.”

“You got me there.” He shrugs. “I’m sure Dad will say yes.”

“When do your basketball practices start?”

“Next Tuesday.”

“Do you have everything you need for that?”

“Yup, I got a ton of new stuff for Christmas.”

“Okay, cool, just wanted to make sure. So…Caroline’s nice?”

“Super nice, and…her smile is pretty, so are her eyes. They’re like…the prettiest brown eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh!”

“She…she gave me the butterflies, Y/N.” He runs a hand through his hair.

“Already?”

“Yeah, and now I’m confused because I thought Brandon gave me butterflies.”

“Well…sometimes two people can give you butterflies, that’s okay.”

“But she’s a girl and he’s a boy…why am I so weird?” He groans.

“Oh, Andy, you’re not weird at all. A lot of people feel like you about boys and girls.”

“They do?”

“Sure! One of my really good friends Darcy likes boys and girls.”

“How does she decide which one she likes better?”

“Well, she doesn’t.” You shrug as you pull into the driveway. You both get into the house and sit on the couch to continue your conversation. Andy holds a throw pillow to his stomach. “I’ve been around her when she’s had a boyfriend, and when she’s had a girlfriend, both make her equally happy. I think for her, at the end of the day, she’s attracted to the type of person they are, so the gender doesn’t really matter.”

“My dad said something like that once, he says he just likes the person and the rest doesn’t really matter. And then I asked him if he liked boys like that and he said no, so I was just more confused.”

“Sexuality is an ever evolving thing, Andy. You may decide you like one thing now, but in a few years you could like something else. I know it all feels stressful and confusing, but remember you’re eleven. You have so much time to figure it all out.”

“So…you only like boys?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“How did you know?”

“I don’t know exactly. I’m just not attracted to women in a way that would make me want to date one.”

“Caroline is, like, really pretty. I’ve never really thought girls were pretty before.”

“Could just be a sign you’re growing up.” You give him a soft smile. “Can I ask…if you think Caroline is pretty, what do you think of Brandon?”

“Brandon’s…ugh, Brandon’s cute, Y/N.” Andy runs a hand over his face. “I like his smile too, and I mean, look the bracelet he made me. I made him one too, but he’s not as artsy as I am, and it’s literally perfect.” He holds his wrist out so you can get a better look at the bracelet.

“It’s a beautiful bracelet.”

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Of course.”

“When you ask my dad if Caroline can come over, can you please not mention anything else to him? I don’t want him to know about any of this.”

“Andy, he just wants to be there for you…”

“I know, but…he’ll just be so, like, after school special about it. Then he’ll tell my mom about it, and I really don’t want her knowing.”

“I don’t know if I can keep a secret from your dad, Andy.”

“You wouldn’t be! Please, Y/N?”

“Okay…I’ll keep this stuff between us.”

“Thank you.” He sighs with relief and leans forward to hug you.

//

After dinner you end up FaceTiming with Harry. He speaks with Andy for a bit first, and then it’s your turn. You take the phone into the bedroom for some privacy while Andy takes a shower.

“Hi.” You smile at him.

“Hey, baby.”

“How was your meeting?”

“Could not have gone better.”

“Really? That’s great!”

“They loved what I had, and signed me write another piece for the journal!”

“Harry, that’s incredible. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thanks. So, how was your first real day with him?”

“It was good.” You bite your bottom lip. “Can he have a friend over Thursday?”

“Sure, I don’t care if Brandon comes over.”

“It’s not Brandon…”

“Oh, Tyler then?”

“No, this is a new friend…a girl named Caroline.”

“A girl?! Wow, yeah, that’s fine. Did he tell you anything about her?”

“We actually had a long conversation about a lot of things today, but he asked me not to tell you and I don’t wanna betray his trust.”

“He…doesn’t want me to know something?”

“He doesn’t want an after school special lecture or whatever.”

“I do not do that.” He scoffs. “You really won’t tell me anything?”

“All I’m going to say is that he’s extremely confused, and I validated his feelings, and then he hugged me.”

“Does he like this girl?”

“He thinks she’s pretty.”

“And what about Brandon?”

“Can’t say.”

“Come on, Y/N.”

“Harry, I’m stuck here. I really wanna respect him. He’s not in any danger or anything so I think it’s okay that the conversation stayed between he and I.”

“I don’t like it.” He pouts.

“I’m sorry, baby doll.” You pout back.

“Y/N?! I need some help with my hair!”

“Welp, duty calls.” You giggle. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Thanks for being there for him. I’m happy he has you to talk to.”

“Me too.”

You end the call and meet Andy in the living room. He looked incredibly cute with the t-shirt wrapped around his head. He sits down on the floor in front of the couch and you sit down. You comb through his hair as carefully as you can, and then you apply the mousse. You hear him sigh and it makes you smile.

“Wanna watch TV before you go read?” You ask him when you’re done.

“Yeah, can I put my show on?”

“Of course.” You smile. He gets cozy next to you, and you smirk when you see he selects Family Guy. “Andy…are you old enough to be watching this?”

“Dad lets me watch this all the time, it’s funny.” He shrugs.

“Do you even get half of the jokes?”

“Not really, but it’s still funny.”

“Okay.” You shake your head.

“Would you play with my hair?”

“Sure, do you wanna rest your head on my lap?”

“Yeah.” He smiles and grabs a pillow to get comfortable. “Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“You’d make a good mom.” He says with a yawn as he keeps his eyes on the TV.

“Oh, um, thank you, Andy.”

//

When Thursday rolls around, you pick Andy up, and you’re also met with Caroline getting into the backseat of your car.

“Hello, you must be Caroline, it’s nice to meet you.” You smile.

“Nice to meet you too.” She smiles.

“I’m Andy’s dad’s girlfriend. I hear your mom works at the university? So do I.”

“Oh, really? She works in the Psychology department…my dad works there too, but he’s in IT.”

“Well, feel free to tell your mom to look out for me and Harry. We teach in the Communication department.”

“Okay.” Caroline smiles.

You get the two of them home and fix them with a snack. You tell them you’ll be up in the loft and you remind Andy to keep his door open.

“She’s really nice.” Caroline says as she sits down on Andy’s bed.

“Yeah, she’s the first girlfriend my dad’s had in a long time. I like her a lot.”

“How long have they been together for?”

“I don’t know…seven months I think.”

“Wow, that’s a long time!”

“Super long. They were friends for a while before they got together too, so they knew each other really well.”

“That’s so sweet! My parents met on a blind date.” She giggles. “How did your mom and dad meet?”

“In college I guess.” He shrugs. “She lives about thirty minutes from here, I see her every other weekend.”

“Does she date anyone?”

“She’s engaged actually. His name is Noah and he has a daughter, Rachel. She’s a year younger than us.”

“Wow, it’s like that movie Blended.”

“Yeah! They’re nice enough, and Noah makes my mum happy, so that’s all I care about.”

“That’s, like, really grown up of you.” Caroline was in awe of Andy. He blushes slightly and clears his throat.  

“Enough about me, what’s it like having three older sisters?”

“It can be fun and annoying. Like, they help me with my hair and clothes, but other times it feels like we’re always fighting. I feel bad for dad.”

“Why?”

“Because they all get their…monthly visits at the same time.”

“Oh! That video they showed us in health class was gross.”

“Did they show you the one about the girl who gets it for the first time, and then they talk about a girl’s insides?”

“Yeah! And then we had to watch the same one, but about boys, and then we had to watch a video about giving birth…”

“Ew, and they actually show the baby coming out, right?”

“Yeah…nasty.” They both shiver and then they both laugh.

“I know you guys said there wasn’t much to do around here, but what do you do for fun?”

“I play basketball with Brandon, his dad is our coach. Winter program on Fridays is fun. Do you ski?”

“I do! I can’t wait for tomorrow. Would you wanna sit with me on the bus?”

“Well…I would, but…I sit with Brandon.”

“Oh, that’s okay. I can just sit near you, maybe? Are you two best friends?”

“Yeah, we are.” Andy blushes. “And yeah, you can definitely sit near me.”

“Cool.” She smiles and grabs her books out of her bag, and Andy does the same. “You’d been so great to me all week. I’m really glad that seat was open in front of you in homeroom.”

“Me too.”

Later that night, after Caroline’s mom picked her up, you and Andy watch a little TV on couch. He had been quiet.

“So, do you have everything together for winter program tomorrow?”

“Yup, got my ski bag ready to go.”

“Make sure to pack what you need for your mum’s, she’s gonna get you after school tomorrow.”

“And then I’ll see you Monday after school, right?”

“That’s right.”

“I had a lot of fun with you this week. You make me not miss my dad as much.”

“Aw, that’s sweet. It’s okay to miss him, though, I miss him a lot too.”

“You forgot to say that you had a lot of fun with me too.” He rolls his eyes.

“Oh, did I?” Andy likes praise too, it seems. “Well, I had loads of fun with you this week, and we’ll have loads more next week.”

“I hope we get a snow day or something. Brandon’s dad usually takes us sledding.”

“Maybe you could bring Caroline with you too. She’s very nice.”

“Yeah, I like her a lot. She asked if she could sit with me tomorrow, but I had to tell her no because I sit on the bus with Brandon.”

“That’s good you didn’t flake on Brandon.”

“He’d kill me if I did, although, I feel like he’s getting a taste of his own medicine.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember when he was with Molly? Everything was about her, now he knows how it feels.”

“Right, he’d talk about her a lot.”

“Mhm.”

“Do you talk about Caroline a lot?”

“Pretty much, it’s hard not to. She’s funny, and she always smells like cherries.” He swoons.

“And to think you’ve only known her for four days.” You chuckle.

“I wonder if she’ll go on the lift with me tomorrow, shoot, I should have asked her while she was here.”

“Do you have her number?”

“Yeah…”

“So text her and ask. Tell her you had a nice time hanging out, and then ask her if she’ll save a run for you tomorrow.”

“You’re brilliant, Y/N! I’m gonna go do that now and then get ready for bed. Goodnight!”

“Night.” You smile and watch him run off to his room.

//

You felt like a full on basketball-mom sitting at Andy’s practice. Watching all the boys was pretty fun, you never got to see Andy be sporty other than going on hikes. There were some other parents and older siblings in the gym watching as well. You got some funny looks from some, and others were quite friendly. You brought your laptop with you to get some work done, but you ended up taking pictures for Harry to see. You knew it killed him to miss Andy’s first week back in action.

Brandon’s dad had the boys running drills, back and forth, sprinting up and down the court. He had them all working on their dribbling, and at the end he had them scrimmage a bit. You noticed how when the boys had to stand and listen to directions that Brandon and Andy were often leaning on each other mindlessly, or touching in some fashion. When practice ends, Brandon chats with Andy quick.

“Did you wanna do homework over the phone later?” Brandon asks.

“I can’t. I need to shower and eat, and then I told Caroline I’d call her.”

“Oh…”

“Sorry, maybe tomorrow?”

“Sure, yeah, maybe you could just come over after school?”

“Well, Y/N is watching me for a reason, you know? You could come to place, though.”

“Yeah! I’ll ask my parents.”

“Great, well, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Andy comes over to you. “Hi, Y/N.”

“Hey, you looked great out there.”

“Thanks, can Brandon come over tomorrow?”

“Sure.” You shrug. “Come on, I ordered a pizza for dinner and I need to go pick it up. Thought it would be a nice break from my cooking.”

“I like the way you cook, but pizza sounds great.”

//

Brandon was fuming, and you could feel it. Andy had accidentally invited Caroline over too, and you were just trying to keep them all happy. They were all playing video games in the living room, and you popped them some popcorn. They had all done their homework together, but you could feel the tension when you gave them dinner. Luckily they’d be getting picked up soon so you could chat with Andy about it. Caroline’s phone goes off.

“Oh! My dad’s here.” Andy pauses the game to walk her to the door. “Thanks for having me.” She gives Andy a hug goodbye after she gets her coat on, and heads out.

“Isn’t she cool, B? She knows how to play Smash Brothers.” Andy says as he sits back down with Brandon.

“It’s not rocket science.” He mumbles.

“Are you okay? You were sort of quiet…”

“Well, I thought just you and I were hanging out today.”

“I told you at school, when she and talked last night I just sort of told her she could come by. I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal. You used to do it with Molly all the time.”

“Yeah, but Molly was my girlfriend, that’s different.”

“How is that any different?”

“Because she’d let me kiss her after. You wouldn’t say no to someone who lets them kiss you.”

“Maybe you should go back to kissing her then.” Andy rolls his eyes. “I like hanging out with Caroline…”

“More than me?”

“No…it’s just different.”

“Well, it sort of feels like you have a new best friend.”

“Don’t be like that, she’s not my new best friend, she’s just a new friend. She’s really pretty. Who knows, maybe I’ll kiss her.”

“You like her enough to kiss her?”

“Maybe.” He shrugs. “She’s really pretty, don’t you think?”

“She’s okay.” Brandon shrugs, and he sees his phone light up. “My mom’s here, I have to go.”

“Alright, see you tomorrow.”

“See you.” They both hug before Brandon leaves.

“Andy…um…”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.” He huffs and goes to his room. You follow after him and stand in his doorway.

“I was just going to ask if you wanted some ice cream.”

“No, thank you.” He sighs. “I feel Brandon was upset with me. I really didn’t think he’d mind it if she came.”

“Well, now you know. Maybe don’t make it a group thing.”

“He’s the only one of our friends that seems to mind her. I don’t get it.”

“Maybe he’s jealous that you’re suddenly not as available.”

“Then that makes him a hippo because he did the same thing with Molly.”

“I think you mean hypocrite.” You chuckle.

“Whatever it is, you know what I mean. This is so annoying, I acted supportive when he told me he was dating her.”

“Are you saying you want to date Caroline?”

“Maybe! It shouldn’t matter, he should be there for me. I should be able to talk about girls and stuff with him.”

“Andy did you ever stop to think that maybe Brandon is confused in the way that you’re confused?” His eyes widen at that.

“You mean…Brandon could think that I’m cute?”

“He could, yeah.”

“Oh my god.” He looks around like he’s searching for an answer. “But what if Caroline thinks I’m cute too?”

“Do you think that she thinks you’re cute?”

“There are rumors going around that she does!”

“Okay, so what do you want to do?!”

“I have no idea!” He flops onto his bed. He mumbles something into his pillow.

“What?!”

“I think I wanna ask her out!”

“Are you even allowed to date yet?!”

“I don’t know! I didn’t think I’d be feeling this way so soon so I haven’t asked!”

“Well, now I have to tell your dad what’s been going on!”

“No, you can’t!”

“I have to!”

“Okay, everybody just be cool.” Andy stands back up. “Screaming won’t get us anywhere.”

“Andy, you can’t ask her out unless your dad says it’s okay. I don’t know how he feels about you dating. You’re only eleven!”

“But I like her…”

“Then you need to wait until Harry gets home, and you need to talk to him about all of this. I won’t say a word, but you sure as hell will.” You cross your arms and so does he.

“I don’t wanna talk to him about this. He’s too romantic about everything, and then he’s gonna be like ‘my baby has a crush’.”

“Well, his baby does have a crush. It’s adorable when you think about it.”

“God, not you too.” He runs his hands over his face. “Fine, I’ll talk to him when he gets back and I won’t make a move beforehand.”

“Good.” You nod and stick your hand out for him to shake. “Pleasure doing business with you.”

You went to bed exhausted as fuck that night. You needed Harry home, now.

//

The next morning at school Andy takes a deep breath before going over to Brandon at his locker.

“Hi.” He says shyly.

“Morning.” Brandon says without looking at him.

“I’m sorry about yesterday.” Brandon closes his locker and looks at Andy. “I should have asked first before just inviting someone else over with us.”

“It’s okay.” Brandon sighs. “I get it.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, Caroline is really pretty. Do you, um, think you like like her?”

“I might…I think so, but I’m a little confused. It doesn’t matter anyways, she probably doesn’t like me like that.”

“Why wouldn’t she?” Brandon smirks and throws his arm around Andy’s shoulders as they walk to homeroom. “You’re a great catch.”

“Shut up.” Andy chuckles and nudges Brandon.

//

Things seemed fine between the boys as basketball practice. You could just tell by their body language. You and Andy share a dinner of pasta and veggies after he showers.

“Did you stay here all weekend while I was at my mum’s? I didn’t even think to ask.”

“No, I went back to my place. I’ll do the same when you go back on Friday. I had water my plants and all that.”

“What’s your place like?”

“It’s just a simple two bedroom.” You shrug. “I like it a lot cause it’s all mine. I love decorating and interior design, so I’ve had fun really making it my own.”

“If you could redecorate here, what do you think you’d change?”

“Hmm…” You look around. “First off, I’d paint…everywhere. It’s dark too dark in the living room. I’d paint it a light grey, and then find some curtains with some color to make it pop. I’d also get blinds for the sliding door, I hate that there’s nothing covering it. In here I’d probably get a round table to save some space. It’s a great size dining area and kitchen, but a round table would just make more sense, I think. I’d also put a glass coffee table in the living room to make it seem like there was more space, not that it’s cramped. It’s a wonderful sized home. More spacious than most ranches I’ve seen.”

“I literally agree with everything. Dad said we could do some painting over his spring break. I think he focused a lot on getting the outside to look nice.”

“Oh, you can tell he loves landscaping. This home has a beautiful curb appeal.”

“Do you think after dinner we could watch House Hunters together again? It was a lot of fun the other night.”

“Definitely!” You smile. “How were things with Brandon today?”

“Good, I apologized for just inviting Caroline over, and he said it was okay.”

“And how was Caroline today?”

“God she…she shared her cosmic brownie with me.” Andy rests his chin his palm and pouts. “I didn’t even ask, she just offered. She’s so nice, Y/N.”

“That was very nice of her.” You chuckle. “Those are the best brownies.”

“Dad never buys them because he says they’re overly processed, so we’ll make them here. It was a real treat.”

Andy helps you clean up dinner, and then you both get settled on the couch. He had gotten into a rhythm of resting his head on a pillow in your lap and wanting you to play with his hair. He had murmured that your nails felt nice like at the hairdresser. He loved listening to your commentary while watching the extremely staged show.

“Oh good, it’s House Hunters: Renovation! I love when they show what they did with the house after they bought it.” You say.

“Me too, I always like seeing if they make it worse or better.”

“I crack up when a lot of them try to do these intricate home projects by themselves. Hire someone for fuck’s sake.” You scoff and then blush. “Sorry.”

“Mum swears all the time.” Andy giggles. “If I tell her about someone that’s bother me, or something she just says fuck ‘em, it’s her…uh…what’s what word that starts with a ph?”

“Philosophy?”

“Yeah! It’s her philosophy.”

“Not a bad one to live by.” You smirk.

After two episodes, you send Andy off to bed, and get ready for bed yourself. You setting into one of Harry’s tee shirts, and decide to listen to one of those mediation bed time stories he’s always suggesting. You plug your headphones into your phone, turn the lights off and settle in. Just as you’re beginning to relax, the story stops, and Harry’s contact photo pops up on the screen, surprising you.

“Hello?” You whisper.

“Hi, baby.”

“Harry, it must be the middle of the night over there, why are you awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Why not?”

“My body pillow just isn’t doing it for me tonight, I miss you.”

“Aw, babe, I miss you too…only a few more days. You’re back Saturday, yeah?”

“Mhm...are you gonna be at my place or yours?”

“I’ll probably be at mine since Andy will be at Paige’s. We’re having loads of fun. His basketball practices are going well. You got the pictures I sent?”

“I did, thank you for sending them along. Any other news to report, or are you still holding out on me?” You could practically hear the smirk that was sure to be on his face.

“All I can say is that Andy is going to have an important question to ask you when you get back.”

“Can you give me any hints?”

“He…may want to start dating…”

“Brandon?!”

“No, actually, someone else, but I’ve said too much already. I told him he had to ask you if he even was allowed to date.”

“Oh, it’s so meaningless at this age, I don’t care, but thanks for telling him that.”

“It’s not totally meaningless. There was a boy that asked me out when I was in seventh grade, and I said yes because I thought I had a crush on him, and then I realized I wasn’t ready to date, so the next day I told him I didn’t want to. It was so awkward.”

“And…you remember all this?”

“Of course, a girl never forgets.”

“Changing subject a bit…um…are you still, uh, on the rag?”

“On the rag?!” You nearly cackle. “No, you idiot.”

“I didn’t know how else to phrase it!”

“Just ask me if I’m on my period or not.”

“It’s an awkward question to ask.”

“You don’t seem to have a problem fucking me when I’m ‘on the rag’.”

“Not at all. Makes me a real man if I say so myself.” You hum your response, not having the energy to say something sarcastic. “Are you in bed already?”

“I am, I was even listening to one of those bed time stories you’re always talking about.”

“Is it alright that I’m interrupting?”

“Mhm.”

“What are you wearing, Y/N?”

“One of your shirts, your Rolling Stones tee.”

“Ah, that’s a good one.”

“What about you?”

“Just my boxers.”

Harry’s voice was low, and gravely. It was sort of nice listening to it with your headphones in. Heating him in surround sound was raising goosebumps on your body. If you closed your eyes it would be like he was there next to you, talking into your ear.

“Harry, did you call to have phone sex with me?”

“Would you me mad if I did?”

“No…just wish I had one of my items here to help me along.”

“Guess you’ll have to do it the old fashioned way and use your hand.”

“What are we in medieval times?”

“Alas, fair maiden, it seems we are.” You giggle softly at him. God, he was so cute. “So, you’re okay with this?”

“Very okay with it.” You bite your bottom lip.

“Are you biting your lip?”

“Yes.” You hear him hum in understanding.

“Wish it was me doing it. I’d bite your lip and then nip across your jaw to your neck.”

“Oh, I like it when you do that. I’d like you bite every inch of me.” You smile. “You know what else I really like?”

“Tell me.”

“I like when you kiss on my tits, and then when you blow on my nipples once they’re all wet.”

“Yeah? Gets your nipples pretty hard, huh?”

“Mhm.” You lift your shirt up over your chest so you could rub your palm over one of your breasts.

“Please tell me you’re touching them.”

“I am.”

“I love your tits, Y/N. Love touching and kneading.”

“I like feeling your big hands on them, and then I like when one of your hands slides between my legs while you’re still kissing on them.”

“And you’re always so wet for me once I get there.”

“M’wet now, Harry.”

“Fuck.”

“How hard his your dick right now?”

“Very, it’s throbbing for you.”

“Why don’t you lick your palm and wrap your hand around yourself like I would. Want you to touch yourself while I am.” You hear some rustling, and then a grunt from him. “Love when you listen to me.”

“Love when you tell me what to do.” He grunts again. “Tell me what you’re doing.”

“I’m just moving my fingers around myself, feeling myself get more wet.”

“Put a finger inside and then drag it up to your clit.” He hears a soft moan come from you. “Good girl.” He breathes.

Your eyes snap open. He had never said that to you before. You kind of liked it.

“What’s that? I’m your good girl?”

“My very good girl.”

“Christ, Harry.” You groan as your fingers press circles into your clit. “Fuck, I wish you were here, want your mouth on me.”

“Where?”

“Right on my clit so you can suck on it.”

Harry’s tip was leaking so much now that he was able to spread his precome all over his length. It felt incredible, but it was nowhere near as good as being squeezed by your walls.

“I’d do that, and slip my fingers inside, pet that special spot.”

“Oh my fucking god.” Your back arches slightly as you imagine it. “Harry.” You whine.

“That’s it baby, say my name while you make yourself come.”

“Want you to come too.”

“I will once you do. Gotta hear you do it first.”

“Fuck, Harry.” You groan as you rub yourself faster. You were so drenched you had to kick all of the blankets off yourself. You plant your feet into the bed as you bend your legs at the knee. Your arch your back up to get a better angle, and god does it feel good.

“Bet you’re squeezing around nothing, just wishing I was there.” All he could hear was you grunting and moaning.

“Harry.” You grit your teeth. “I, I’m, oh fuck!” You press your face into the pillow so you can moan out, but keep it muffled.

“God.” He breathes. “Blew my load just listening to you, Y/N.”

“Harry.” You whimper. “I’m a mess now and you’re not even here to clean it up.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He chuckles slightly. “I’m a mess here too if that makes you feel better.”

“It does a little.” You giggle. “I really can’t wait to see you.”

“Me neither, my love.”

His words make you feel all warm and fuzzy.

“Well, unless you wanna listen to me pee, which I really hope you don’t because that’s just one kink I would have to shame you for, I think I should go.”

“Nope, no pee kink here, baby.” He laughs. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Sweet dreams.”

“Back at you.” You sigh and hang up the phone. There was something strangely erotic about getting yourself off alone in Harry’s bed. Calling you like that was sneaky, but you knew you’d sleep better, and he would too.

//

“Mm, hello?” You groan at 5AM when your phone goes off.

“Due to weather and road conditions, school is cancelled today.”

You sit up right away. You had no idea it was supposed to snow last night, and you also had no idea how to use Harry’s snow blower. You get up and throw your robe on, you needed to tell Andy there was no school. You quietly go into his room, and put your hand on his shoulder.

“Andy, sweetie, you have a snow day today.” You coo.

“M’kay.” He whispers sleepily.

You smile and leave his room so he can go back to sleep. You look outside and see it’s still dark. You figure you should go back to sleep as well. Yours and Harry’s cars were in the garage, so it wasn’t like you need to worry about digging them out. You could tackle the shoveling in a few hours.

You end up starting your day around eight, deciding that sweats would be most comfortable. You think Andy would enjoy some waffles for breakfast, so you get the batter going in the waffle maker. He appears from his room shortly after, the aroma being too intoxicating for him to stay in bed any longer.

“Morning.” He says, knuckling at his eyes.

“Morning, you hungry?”

“Mhm.” He smiles as she places a stack of waffles in front of him at the table. “Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome.”

“What kind of snow is it?”

“The powdery kind. I need to get out there soon to clean up the driveway. You don’t happen to know how to use the snow blower do you?”

“No idea. I usually stick to shoveling the walkways and the stairs.”

“I’m sure I’ll be able to figure it out. How hard could it be?”

After twenty minutes of tinkering, you Googled how to start a snow blower, and found a video to watch. Once you got it going, it was pretty simple. You cleared the driveway of all the snow as Andy worked to clear the walkway to the front door.

“We make a pretty good team!” You say as you get the snow blower back in the garage.

“Yeah!”

You both head in through the garage and go into the basement to shed yourselves of your wet jackets, snow-pants, and boots.

Caroline: hey Andy! My sisters are taking me sledding since the roads aren’t too bad, do you wanna come?

Brandon: My dad’s gonna take me skiing today, do you wanna come?

“Shit.” Andy says to himself as he checks his phone.

“What’s up?” You ask him as you hand him a mug of hot chocolate.

“Both Caroline and Brandon invited me to do stuff with them…what should I do?”

“Who asked you first?”

“Caroline did…”

“Which activity would you rather do?”

“I’d rather go skiing, but I’d also like to hang out with Caroline…”

“Well, maybe you could go skiing with Brandon, and then meet up with Caroline later.” You shrug. “She could come over here and I could set a movie up for you in the living room, and I could sit up in the loft while you hang out.”

“Really?”

“Sure.”

“You don’t mind me being out all day with my friends?”

“Not at all, snow days are supposed to be fun, and the roads aren’t that bad right now.”

“You’re the best, Y/N!” Andy hugs you, and goes to text his friends.

Andy: Sure! I just need to a few minutes to get my gear together.

Brandon: Awesome! I’ll let my dad know, see you soon! Did Y/N want to come?

Andy: I’ll ask

“Y/N!”

“Yeah!”

“Did you want to come skiing?”

“Oh god.” You laugh. “No, I think I’ll save that for your dad, but thank you.”

Andy: she said thanks but no thanks lol

Brandon: okay lmao

Andy smiles and then goes to text Caroline.

Andy: Thanks for thinking of me, I’m actually going skiing with Brandon, but Y/N said you could come over for a movie later if you want???

Caroline: of course! Totally don’t blame you for wanting to go skiing. I’d love to come over later, I’ll ask my parents. Wanna just text me when you get home and we can figure it out from there?

Andy: sounds good to me ☺️

Caroline: ☺️☺️

“Okay, this should all work out.” Andy says to you. “I’m gonna get my stuff together.”

“Alright, will you just let me know once you’re there and all that. Text me updates so I know you didn’t split your head open. I don’t think your dad would like me very much anymore if that happened.”

“Yeah.” Andy laughs. “I think he’d take some brownie points away for sure.”

//

Andy was having a great time skiing with Brandon and his dad. After a couple of hours they all go into the lodge to get a quick lunch. Mr. Stewart goes up to order all the food while the boys sit at the table.

“Did you want to come back my house after? My mom’s making beef stew for dinner.”

“Aw man, I love your mom’s beef stew.” Andy pouts. “But I can’t, I have plans later.”

“Oh yeah? What are you up to?”

“Um…I invited Caroline over for a movie.”

“Oh.” Brandon’s face falls.

“But only because she invited me to go sledding today, and I said no I could ski with you.”

“Oh.” He perks back up. “What movie do you think you’ll watch?”

“I have no idea, I’ll probably let her decide. Any time me, my dad, and Y/N all watch a movie he always lets her decide.”

“Why?”

“Because it makes her happy.” He shrugs. “And then she’ll kiss him, and he likes that.”

“Right.” Brandon swallows. Before he can say anything else his dad comes over with the food.

//

You got a fuck ton of work done today, you were really proud of yourself. Harry’s loft was a perfect working space, even if you did miss your office at home. You hear Andy come in the door, and he shouts hello and that he’ll be in the shower. You chuckle to yourself and save what you’re working on for now.

Andy comes out a little while later just as you’re rifling through take out menus.

“I was thinking you could get something yummy for dinner. What do you think she’d like?”

“Pizza and mozzarella sticks sound safe.” He says.

“Alright, I’ll order it in a bit so it’s here when she is. I’m sure a lot of people are doing delivery tonight.”

“And you’ll just be upstairs?”

“Mhm, I don’t need to hover…just… you know, don’t sit on top of each other.”

He makes a face at you like he’s grossed out and then walks away from you. Not too long after the food arrives, so does Caroline.

“Thanks for getting all this, Y/N.” She says to you.

“Oh, you’re more than welcome. Did you two settle on a movie?”

“Cars.” Andy says. “Right, you wanna watch Cars?”

“Mhm.” She smiles.

“Okay, Cars it is.” You smile and set the movie up on Disney+. They both settle on the couch. “I’ll be right upstairs working if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” Andy says and watches you go upstairs. “I like this movie a lot, Brandon and I watch it all the time.”

“It’s one of my favorites. I don’t really like the sequels though.”

“Me either!”

“They suck.”

“Yeah.” Andy smiles.

“I really like Wall-E, too.”

“My dad and I watched that together for the first time a couple years ago and he cried.” Andy laughs.

“He did?!”

“Yeah! I have no idea why. He cries a lot when we watch movies, though.”

“He sounds funny, I can’t wait to meet him.” She smiles and turns her attention to the TV.

About halfway through the movie, once they were done eating, you noticed it had gotten a little quite, so you peer over the banister to see what was going on. They were simply entranced by the film, giggling occasionally. You smile and sit back down.

There was the part in the movie where the town comes back to life, and the cars all pair of to cruise together. Caroline sighs softly, and he hand brushes Andy’s. They both look down at their hands, and Andy makes a bold move in holding her, fingers intertwined and all. She smiles at him and blushes.

“Is this okay?” He asks.

“Yeah.” She nods with a brighter smile.

“Cool.” He sighs with relief, and they continue the movie like that, holding hands.

You stand in the kitchen while Caroline gets her coat on after the movie ended and her oldest sister was in the car outside.

“Thanks again for having me, it was fun.”

“Anytime.”

She throws her arms around his neck to give him a hug, and out the door she goes. Andy sighs contently and walks into the kitchen with a huge smile on his face. He gives you a surprising hug.

“What was that for?”

“For being so cool to let us chill alone. Knowing my dad, he would have walked by every two seconds, or if I were at Mum’s she would have had Rachel watch the movie with us. We…we held hands, Y/N.”

“Oh my.” You smile. “Big step.”

“No kidding.” He agrees. “I…I need to go call Brandon.” He races into his room and closes the door.

Andy was so innocently sweet, and it warmed your heart like nothing else ever could.

//

“He was a perfect angel, honestly.” You say over the phone to Janette as you stuff your face with the ice cream you had in your freezer. “He’s very popular, and is always busy. No wonder Harry didn’t make time to date before, I’m exhausted.”

“Doing it alone is tough, but now he’s got a great partner to help him out.”

“I love helping. He and I didn’t have one single disagreement, and he listened to me the whole time.”

“Well, of course he did. You’re his dad’s girlfriend.”

“True, but I was really expecting him to try to get away with something.”

“He probably knew he couldn’t test you. Smart kid.”

You chuckle and talk with her more about her break is going. You survived two weeks with Andy. You kept him alive and well.

Later on, you were snuggled up on your couch in some sweats of Harry’s, and a blanket, watching TV. Your heart skips a beat when you hear the jingle of keys and you front door unlocking. Harry said he’d text you when he landed, and he hadn’t. You stand up and shuffle around, grabbing a fry pan and getting into a batting stance.

“Baby?! I’m back!” He stops short when he sees you ready to attack and then he bursts out laughing.

“Stop it! I thought you were a burglar!”

“So you stood there frozen?!”

“You can go home if you want, I’m not longer happy to see you.” You pout and put the pan on the counter.

“Don’t be like that, I missed you so much, come here.”

Your smile slowly grows on your face, and you jump into his arms. He picks you up and you wrap your legs around him, tucking your face into his neck, getting a good whiff of his cologne.

“How was your flight?” You mumble into him as he holds you close.

“Little bit of turbulence, but it was good.” He says as he starts walking you into your bedroom. “Couldn’t wait to get home to you.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Slept plenty on the plane and bus.”

He gets you on the bed, and kicks his shoes off before getting on with you. You both lay on your sides facing each other. He grabs your leg and puts it over his hip so he can slot his leg between yours, and then he pulls you close so you’re chest to chest. He moves some hair behind your ear.

“Hi.” He says with a big smile.

“Hi.” You smile back. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He leans in and slots his mouth over yours, and your eyes flutter closed. You tug at his shirt to pull him even closer as you rock against the leg that’s between yours. His tongue drags along your bottom lip and you moan softly. He licks into your mouth and you’re met with his familiar minty taste. You tug him completely on top of you as you turn onto your back. You wanted his weight to just crush you.

“Baby.” He coos as he kisses from your jaw to your neck. He sucks on your soft skin and your hips buck up again. His leg moves further between yours and you gasp.

Your fingers lace through his hair and you tug as you grind against his thigh. You were feeling incredibly needy now that he was here with you, and not just a voice through the phone. You could feel him getting hard against her hip, so you reach into his joggers and start pumping him, getting a heft groan from him.

“Need you.” You breathe.

“Need to taste you first.” He says as shifts to tug your sweatpants off.

“No, please just fuck me, we can do all that afterwards.”

“I need to prep you first or it’ll hurt.”

“Harry, I’ve been fucking you for seven months, I’m perfectly adjusted.” He raises his eyebrows at you. “Okay, maybe not perfectly, but I’m feeling impatient so please.” She pouts at him and he physically can’t say no.

He doesn’t bother with your shirt, or his, he just gets his pants off, and you get yours off. He goes to get up in search for a condom, but you grab him and shake your head.

“Wanna feel you, just pull out.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

His lips crash to yours as your legs open up for him. He lines himself up with you and rubs his tip along your clit. You were plenty wet for him. You both groan from the feeling. He slowly pushes inside you, and your head falls back from the stretch. Your mouth was hanging open trying to breathe to help yourself relax.

“Holy shit.” You say as he’s about halfway in.

“Three weeks in a long time, babe, let me take some time to just-“ He starts to pull out but your sink your nails into his ass.

“Just go for it.”

“Y/N, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, it’ll feel good. Just give it one good thrust.”

He bites his bottom lip and does as you say, bottoming out immediately. You choke out a gasp. It hurt a little, but it quickly turned to pleasure as you felt full for the first time in weeks. You tighten around him and he grits his teeth.

“I’ll come if you do that.”

“Sorry, go ahead, move, fuck me, Harry.”

He rocks in and out of you, and you pull him closer so his head is buried in your neck. You wrap your legs around his lower back, and get your hands up under his shirt so you can scratch and squeeze at him.

“You feel so fucking good.” He growls into your ear, and it makes your eyes roll back.

“So, so do you, fuck.”

He sits up slightly to get a better angle. He pushes one of your legs back, and lets the other lay flat, and your mouth falls open as he thrusts in and out of you.

“Oh my god, Harry!”

“Hold your leg up f’me.”

You do as he says immediately and hook your arm under your leg as he continues to fuck in and out of you. He was hitting your g-spot perfectly. You reach to rub your clit in time with his thrusts.

“Oh my fucking god, Harry, don’t stop.” You were panting already. “Fuck, fuck, please, don’t stop.”

You knew he wouldn’t dare, but you couldn’t think of what else to say. Tears were starting to form in your eyes because it just felt so fucking good.

“Oh, oh! Fuck!” Your back arches as you come to your release. You squeeze impossibly tight around him.

“Shit, Y/N!” Harry pulls out of you just in time and comes on your stomach, getting a little on your shirt, but your head was so fuzzy you didn’t care.

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to-oh!”

You look down and see Harry’s head between your legs. He really did want to taste you. He sucks on your clit and your hands go right back into his hair. You tug and squeeze with each stroke. He was moaning into you, and it was driving you crazy. You moan along with him as he gets both of your legs over his shoulders, your heels digging into his back.

“Harry.” You groan.

He was just focusing solely on your clit because he knew you’d be too sensitive for anything else, but he didn’t mind. You could tell he really just wanted to be close with you like this. The tip of his tongue makes circles on your clit and you feel like you go cross-eyed.

“That’s it, Harry, fuck, oh my god, that’s fucking it!” You cry out as you come and press his face further against you.

“Ride me.” He breathes. “Ride my face, I wanna keep going.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

You nod and wait for him to get adjusted. You rip your shirt off so you can be fully naked for him. You center yourself on him, and gasp when you feel his tongue on your again. His fingers sink into the plushy skin of your ass, and you essentially move so you’re twerking on him, which you know he loves. He loves when you really just use him, he was like your person scratching post.

He had you screaming again in no time, he was pretty proud of himself. You inch down his body, and get his shirt off so you can kiss down his chest. You suck marks into his skin, lower and lower, leaving a nasty trail of love bites behind. He was hard again, so you lick up and down his shaft before taking him into your mouth. You suckle his tip with vigor, making nasty noises that was music to his ears. One of your hands massages his balls while the other scratches up and down his stomach.

“Fuck.” He groans as you take him deep, bobbing up and down. You look up at him as best you can and he runs a caring hand through your hair. “Let me come on your tits, Y/N.”

You smirk with him still in your mouth and then you let him go with a pop. You get in a better position between his legs and pump his wet dick furiously.

“Jesus Christ! Just like that, baby. I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come!”

His come shoots in ribbons onto your chest, and you bask in the warmth it has at first. You kiss back up his body, smearing your chest onto his. You both giggle as your mouth reaches his again. He rolls you both back over so he’s on top again.

“Can’t get enough of you right now.” He says as he kisses the corner of your mouth. “Let me use one of your-“

“Harry, baby, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but let’s take a break, yeah?” You chuckle. “You’ve tuckered me out.”

“Mm, guess I’m a little tired too.” He kisses your cheek. “Could we go shower?”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea.” You nod with a sigh.

You wobbled into the bathroom with him, and he gets the water going. Once it’s warm enough you both stand under the water, just holding each other for a bit. He kisses your neck and shoulder occasionally, and you run your hands through his hair. You take turns washing each other up before you get out and towel off.

You cuddle up in bed with your head on his chest, just listening to his heart beat for bit with his fingers lightly stroking your back.  You prop yourself up on your elbow to look at him.

“Yes?”

“You sure got excited earlier, huh?”

“Couldn’t help it, just missed you so much. Do you feel okay? I didn’t hurt you?”

“I’m sure I’ll be a little sore, but it’s alright.” You smile. “Did you have a good time with your family?”

“I did, I feel really recharged. It’s always nice being home. Maybe, um, maybe next year you’d like to try coming with me?”

“Yeah, maybe.” You grin. He sit up a little and so do you. He puts his arm around you and kisses your temple.

“So, you really won’t tell me much about your two weeks with Andy?”

“I told you everything I could. What we ate for meals, how his basketball practices went…oh! We had a snow day and he went skiing with Brandon. I even used the snow blower.”

“You did?!”

“I did.”

“Bet you looked pretty hot.”

“Oh, stop.” You swat at his chest.

“But seriously…”

“You’ll have to talk with him tomorrow when you pick him up.” You bite your bottom lip. “He held hands with the girl, Caroline.”

“Wow.” He blinks a few times. “I wonder if he still might like Brandon.”

“He’s very confused, but I think it’s important to let him sort of test the waters. He said he never really thought girls were pretty before, but he thinks she’s really pretty.”

“God, I’m gonna have to have the talk with him.” He groans. “It was awkward enough when I got him that puberty book.”

“It’s not like you have to go in depth, you just need to remind him to be respectful.”

“You don’t understand…when boys start going through all this…things can get sticky.”

“Ew, enough said.” You both laugh. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Me too.”

//

Sunday morning, you drop Harry off at his place so he can unpack and get himself settled before going to pick Andy up. He exchanges pleasantries with Paige, and then on the road he goes.

“How come we’re taking the long way home?”

“Because we need to chat about some things.”

“What did Y/N tell you?” He rolls his eyes.

“Not much, honestly. Apparently you have a new friend, though.”

“Yeah, her name’s Caroline. She’s new to the school, her and her family just moved here from Maine. She came over to watch a movie the other day and we held hands…she even shared her cosmic brownie with me, Dad, I think we like each other, but…I feel guilty about Brandon.”

“Andy…how do you feel about Brandon, exactly?”

“I don’t know.” He mumbles. “It’s like…it’s like Brandon’s like an oo, and Caroline’s like an ah. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense.” He sighs.

“It does?”

“Yeah…so…you held hands with Caroline?”

“Yeah, it was really nice. Would it be alright if I asked her out?”

“Didn’t you already do that by asking her over for a movie?” Harry chuckles.

“No, I mean…I think I wanna date her. I wanna see if she’ll be my girlfriend.”

“Do you think you’re ready for a girlfriend? It’s a lot of responsibility.”

“It is?”

“Sure! Gotta treat whoever you date really nice, give them a lot of respect.”

“I do respect her. I asked her if it was okay while we were holding hands.”

“Thatta boy.” Harry says proudly. “Always ask before you touch, and if they say no, that means no.”

“I know, Dad.”

“Andy, that’s something I’m gonna say over and over to you for the rest of my life, so get used to it.”

“Did you date a lot of people when you were younger?”

“Um…not really. I mean, I had a couple of girlfriends in secondary school, and I dated a girl at uni in London before I came here and met Mum. So…you’d rather go for it with a girl you barely know rather than with Brandon?”

“I’m not entirely sure how I feel about Brandon, Dad…and I’m scared. Caroline doesn’t make me feel scared.”

“Well…if you’d really like to ask her out, I suppose it’s alright.”

“Really?!”

“Sure, we could go on a double date even. Ice skating, maybe?”

“Dad, you’re the coolest! I can’t wait to call her later.”

“You’re gonna ask her out over the phone? Don’t you wanna do it in person?”

“Get with it, Dad.” Andy scoffs. “Everything’s done over the phone now.”

“Well, excuse me.”

“I think you’ll like her, she’s so nice.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“She always smells like cherries too.” Andy sighs.

“You’ve got it bad for her, huh?”

“I’ve never felt this way about a girl before. I think I’m finally catching up with everyone.”

“It’s not a race, son.”

“Sometimes it feels like it is. Whatever, I just feel good about it, about her.”

“Alright.”

“I really liked staying with Y/N.”

“She said she had a great time with you.”

“Do you think you’ll ask her to move in with us?”

“Would like me to?”

“Yeah…I want her around more.”

“Me too.” Harry smiles. “I think I’ll ask her soon, maybe when the weather gets a little warmer.”

“She still needs to learn to ski. You should ask her to come with us to the cabin for February break.”

“I think Mum was hoping to do another family trip…”

“So, Y/N’s family now.”

“I’m happy you feel that way, but I don’t know how comfortable she’d feel doing something like that for an entire week.”

“You won’t know unless you ask.”

[mandelene]

If you're still taking requests, can I have ℧ with Arthur please 👀

You sure can! 💕

The Tea Party and the Promise-Breaker

Word Count: 1690

“But you said you were gonna play tea party with us!”

“I know, darling, but I’m quite tired and—”

“You promised!” Amelia screeches.

Arthur swears he feels something in his skull rattle. He did promise, but that was before he worked three 16-hour shifts at the hospital and started to feel unwell. He woke up yesterday morning to a sore throat, but he refused to call out sick over something so trivial. Now, the sore throat is worse, his head hurts, his sinuses burn, and he can feel his nose beginning to run.

This is his first day off all week, and although he’d love to play with Amelia and Madeline, he simply doesn’t have the energy to entertain them. He wishes he could have a two-hour nap, but that won’t be possible since Francis is working until the early evening, which means Arthur is in charge of supervising their two six-year-olds for the day.

“You never want to play with us,” Amelia accuses him, sounding genuinely broken-hearted.

He knows it isn’t easy for the girls when he’s not home very often, and the last thing he wants is for them to think he doesn’t love or care about them—nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Okay, I’ll join the tea party,” he surrenders, overwhelmed by guilt. “Would you girls like me to set the kettle?”

“We’re gonna have imaginary tea, Dad,” Amelia explains, a little exasperated by how out of the loop he is. “But you can bring your own tea if you want…And bring cookies, too!”

“All right. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“Yaaaaay!” Amelia cheers, jumping up and down several times before grabbing Madeline’s hand and dragging her toward her room. “Let’s get all of the toys, Maddie!”

When the girls are out of sight, Arthur releases a cough he’s been suppressing and buries it into the crook of his arm. A tea party won’t be too labor-intensive at least. He’d rather sit down and drink tea with the girls than have to run around with them in the yard.

He makes himself a large mug of tea with honey and lemon. Then, he grabs whatever leftover pastries are in the fridge—Francis is always baking something for the girls, it seems like. Thankfully, he finds some chocolate chip cookies as well as financiers. He sets them on a plate, gathers extra silverware and napkins for the girls, and makes his way back up the stairs, clearing his aching throat along the way.

When he arrives at Amelia’s room, the little children’s activity table that she normally keeps against the wall has been moved to the center of the room, along with two children’s chairs and two beanbag chairs.

Arthur doesn’t particularly like the seating arrangement, but he knows better than to complain. He places the treats, napkins, and his tea on the table and makes himself as comfortable as he can in one of the beanbag chairs, letting his weight sink into it with a sigh.

Amelia and Madeline have lined up their teddy bears and dolls around the room, and Madeline seems to have drawn a sign on a poster board that proudly says, “MADDIE AND AMELIA’S TEA PARTY.” The text is surrounded by doodles of flowers, teacups, and stars.

“What a beautiful sign, Madeline,” Arthur compliments her.

She sheepishly smiles and hugs her favorite teddy bear, Kumajirou, against her chest. “Thank you…Daddy, you didn’t wear your tie. You were suppose’ta dress up for the tea party.”

He looks down at his attire and frowns. Yes, perhaps flannel pajama bottoms, a black t-shirt, slippers, and his gray bathrobe weren’t a great stylistic choice. Both of the girls are wearing dresses and tights. “My apologies, ladies. I can change, if you’d like?”

“It’s okay. You just havta act like a gentleman,” Madeline instructs, and Arthur can’t help but smile at how endearing all of this is.

He should enjoy it while it lasts—the girls won’t be interested in having tea parties with him when they’re older. Although he’d rather be in bed, he’s glad he agreed to this.

“I’ll try to be on my best behavior,” he assures them before taking a sip of his tea.

“You havta stick your pinkie finger out,” Amelia reminds before pretending to pour tea for herself and Madeline from their children’s tea kettle and into plastic teacups.

Arthur puts his pinkie out and nods. “Ahh, how could I forget? So, tell me, has anything interesting been happening at school?”

Amelia immediately begins to talk about how some other girl in their class recently got a new bike, and how she feels awful that she’s six and a half years old and can’t ride a bike yet. “Will you teach me, Dad?”

“Of course, love. When summer comes we can think about it.”

“Promise?”

He’s learned his lesson about making promises. “We’ll see,” he says instead, ignoring the expression of disappointment on Amelia’s face. He takes a napkin from the table, excuses himself, and blows his nose softly, wincing at the ache in his sinuses…He’s feeling a bit feverish as well.

“Are you okay?” Madeline asks him, concerned.

“I’m just a bit under the weather,” he admits. “So, no hugging or kissing—I don’t watch you girls to catch this.”

Madeline doesn’t seem to be willing to let the subject go just yet. “Did you take medicine?”

“I will in a little while. Thank you, poppet.”

Amelia stands up and comes over to him to yank on his arm. “You havta go to bed, you’re sick. You always say we can’t play when we’re sick and havta rest, remember?”

Arthur feels his patience thinning, but having an excuse to lie down for a moment could be worth it.

“I can’t go to bed. I have to take care of you girls. It’ll be lunchtime soon, and I have to—”

“No, mister.”

“But I—”

“No buts!” Amelia scolds him, and for a second, he forgets who the adult in the room is.

He picks up his mug of tea and begrudgingly follows Amelia back to the master bedroom, where he obediently lies down on his and Francis’s bed, groaning when his sore muscles meet the memory foam mattress.

“We’ll take good care of you!” Amelia exclaims, exuberant.

Arthur’s not too sure he’s looking forward to this, but as the girls go and conspire out in the hallway, he allows himself to close his eyes for just a moment…Only a moment…He has to stay up to watch the girls…

The next time he opens his eyes, Amelia is poking a thermometer against his mouth, waking him from a very brief snooze.

“You’ve gotta take your temperature, Dad.”

Now that his body has had a taste of sleep, he feels absolutely exhausted. He takes the thermometer from her and puts it under his tongue, curious to see what the reading will be. When it beeps, he grimaces at the number taunting him. A hundred and two point seven. That’s thirty-nine degrees Celsius—enough to signal to him that this is probably more than a mere cold.

“Do you have a fever?” Madeline asks from the end of the bed, eyes shimmering.

“No,” he lies. “I’m fine, girls. It’s nothing to worry about…You should both return to the tea party. I’m going to rest here for a moment and—”

Amelia touches his forehead with her cold hand, and he shivers. “You need medicine.”

“I’m all right for now, girls. Really. Go back and play.”

To his surprise, the girls do leave, and he lets out a sigh of relief…That is, until he hears Amelia talking to someone over the house phone in the distance.

He jolts out of bed and dashes over to her, but it’s too late…

“Papa wants to talk to you,” she says, matter-of-fact.

Damn.

He takes the phone from her, feeling a growing pit of dread in his stomach. “Hello?”

“Arthur, why didn’t you tell me before I left the house this morning that you were feeling ill?”

“I’m fine, Francis.”

“I’ll be home in an hour.”

“You don’t—”

“See you then.”

And just like that, Francis hangs up.

Arthur puts the phone down and prepares his most intimidating scowl, ready to direct it at Amelia, but then she pulls on his arm again and says, “We can play tea party next time. Don’t worry. You’ll be all better soon.”

The scowl disappears and is replaced by a wistful smile. “Thank you, love. I’m sorry our plans have to be put on hold. I’ll make it up to you both, all right?”

The girls nod, and Arthur sends them off to finish the pastries that are still waiting for them in Amelia’s room. In the meantime, he finishes his tea and blows his nose again. He sucks on a cough drop and grits his teeth against the immense pressure in his sinuses. After seeing the color of his mucus, he’s willing to bet he has a sinus infection.

He leans against the headboard of the bed and falls asleep against his will.

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

“Come, mon amour—you’re going to have a sore neck and back if you stay like this. Lie down properly,” Francis coaxes him, bracing his head for him.

Arthur’s not sure how long he’s been asleep, but he lowers his head so that it’s on his pillow and lies flat on his back. “…You didn’t have to come home early.”

“I’m glad I did—you have a fever, and a high one at that,” Francis says, setting a damp hand towel on his feverish brow. “Did you really think you’d be able to tend to the girls when you’re like this? It’s dangerous. You should have told me.”

“…'m sorry,” Arthur mumbles, still incredibly tired. The towel on his head feels nice.

“You just wanted a reason to leave the tea party, didn’t you?” Francis jokes, brushing his hand against his warm cheek. “The girls told me about it.”

“Oh, of course. The next time I’m asked to play dress-up or ‘hair salon’ with them, I just may have to give myself bronchitis.”

Francis laughs and kisses the side of his head. “Conniving man.”