#you can’t really see her wrinkles but they’re there :( MY BABY

[moonlitfalls]

lacey is an adult now! 🎉

and another abduction - she’s not pregnant this time!

[astonmartinii]

i hope your finger’s ok!! please take all the time you need and remember you health comes first :) imma be selfish and send you a charles request cause ur writing makes me smile at my phone like an idiot and i can’t help it :p ok so!! charles x versteppen reader? shes max’s sister and drives for redbull (cause im delulu like that) and they’ve been fighting w each other since they were kids (no one knows why they started arguing they’re j petty and refuse to give it up even though they dk what they’re arguing abt anymore) and obvs they’re in love w each other - maybe another drivers flirting w her or smth and charles j snaps and hard launches the reader cause surprise they’ve been dating each other 🤭 holy shit this is long sorry for rambling 🙏🙏

angel baby, devil child | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x verstappen!reader

enemies to lovers blah blah blah

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz55 and 1,743,200 others

yourusername: crazy, crazy race. sorry not sorry to the tifosi, tell ur girl @charles_leclerc to kiss my ass not my rear tyre xoxo

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user1: okay they're clearly still in the enemies phase... when can we skip to lovers

user2: i personally love that charles is the mortal enemy of both verstappen siblings that's so slay of him

maxverstappen1: crop me out again and say goodbye to a tow in qualifying

yourusername: sorry maxy, not my fault i got all the photogenic genes xx

maxverstappen1: erm rude @christianhorner tell her to stop bullying me

yourusername: two can play at that game @sebastianvettel tell max to stop being a baby

user3: the way neither christian or seb replied they really don't get paid enough to deal with them

charles_leclerc: what is it with verstappens and their love for pushing me off the track

yourusername: what is it with your front wing and my rear tyre

charles_leclerc: umm i asked you first

yourusername: stop deflecting babe, we all know you love my ass so much you wanted a touch

charles_leclerc: i'd rather deep fry my hands than touch your rear

maxverstappen1: that can be arranged

user4: can't wait for these three to all be in the same press conference next week 🍿

carlossainz55: my favourite person to share the podium with

yourusername: thanks chilli (@tifosi you heard it here sainz is against ferrari 1-2s)

carlossainz55: NO that's not what i meant

landonorris: i see how it is ... god all men are the same AM I NOT PRETTY ENOUGH FOR YOU?

maxverstappen1

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 1,204,809 others

tagged: yourusername

maxverstappen1: happy birthday to my bestest friend, biggest rival and favourite roommate. though maybe now you're 23 you can get your own place so you can sneak out to meet up with your secret boyfriend on your own terms and can keep that massive ballsack away from jimmy and sassy. i love you and verstappen dominance 4 ever.

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user7: i love y/n but i think she should bring her cat to races as a scare tactic

yourusername: wrinkle doesn't appreciate your tone but it is duly noted

yourusername: awwwwwwwww i love you maxy !! and you're never getting rid of your little sister unless you get married and ur a big fat nerd so that's never happening xx

maxverstappen1: attacking me after i just bought you a whole ass car

yourusername: i JOKE. thank you soooo much and you'll never get rid of me you love me too much to anyway.

maxverstappen1: enough to finally introduce me to the mystery man?

yourusername: blocked.

user8: are we all just ignoring her doing her literal eyeliner with a knife?

user9: or the fact that max likely walked in and was like oh wait this is a sick shot

danielricciardo: oh no that was me, i'm still traumatised but it's probably the best photo i've ever taken

yourusername: easy to do with a model like me

charles_leclerc: wtf is that thing in the last one

yourusername: rude of you to think ur balls look any nicer

charles_leclerc: what?

yourusername: what?

user10: does anyone want to elaborate?

carlossainz55: happy birthday y/n !

yourusername: thanks carlos, thank you for the flowers 👍

user11: this is either their way of flirting or y/n really couldn't give a flying fuck about carlos' obvious crush on her

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo and 2,098,560 others

yourusername: another trip around the sun and still following my brother around, difference is now i beat him x

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user16: your honour i am so obsessed with her

maxverstappen1: can't even be angry about it, you deserve the world

yourusername: you softy, i love you

maxverstappen1: also dummy i know who your boyfriend is now did you guys forget that we LITERALLY LIVE TOGETHER

yourusername: i was intoxicated my bad but we bought you breakfast?

maxverstappen1: literally the only reason he hasn't gone over the balcony, he might want to be gone before this hangover wears off

yourusername: noted.

user17: yall want to share with the class?

user18: based on ^^ this reaction i'm going to say it's not carlos

user19: watch out he'll drop a shit pick-up line in a second and be rejected

carlossainz55: hope you enjoyed your birthday beautiful

user20: bro this guy STINKS

user19: i told yall

yourusername: thank you carlos

user21: i'm sorry this is dry as hell it can't be carlos

charles_leclerc: my shoes will never recover, i'll be sending an invoice your way

yourusername: you're a millionaire boo, you can replace those tacky white trainers yourself

charles_leclerc: is having no manners a verstappen trait?

yourusername: come for max all you want, but the birthday girl? low leclerc

charles_leclerc: when you go low i go lower

yourusername: oh believe me i know all about you and going down

user22: DO YALL MIND?

user23: do they think we're dumb?

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, lancestroll and 1,204,674 others

charles_leclerc: a weekend without racing?

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user24: what is biden doing about the soft launch pandemic?

user25: well this is oddly timed ...

yourusername: you look like you'd have sweaty hands

charles_leclerc: wouldn't you like to know

yourusername: unlike all ur fangirls i've actually smelt you sweaty after a race so you can keep your hands to yourself

maxverstappen1: you heard her 🤨

charles_leclerc: why are you here? is this a 2 for 1 deal on annoying dutch people

yourusername: you can call him annoying all you want, but you love me don't lie

charles_leclerc: my lawyer says i shouldn't comment on that ;)

sebastianvettel: when will you two stop?

yourusername: sorry seb :(

charles_leclerc: sorry seb :(

user26: i know carlos is sick reading this weird flirting when y/n never comments on his pics

user27: she comes here just to flirt cause she didn't even like the photo

user28: she doesn't even follow him 😭

pierregasly: i love a slow burn as much as the next person BUT NOT WHEN I DON'T KNOW WHO IT IS PICK UP THE PHONE

charles_leclerc: you're so dramatic, nobody knows calmar

maxverstappen1: he's lying i do

pierregasly: WHAT

charles_leclerc: by ACCIDENT i didn't tell him by choice

user29: so like, it's definitely y/n LOL

user30: oh no everyone get ready marca is going to run a story tomorrow about how charles leclerc is ruining carlos' career with psychological warfare by flirting with the girl he likes

user31: sainz sr about to wage war lol

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, yourusername and 2,304,889 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: i don't share. i love you. please follow me on instagram now (and let me come on max's jet) x

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user35: HOLY FUCK

user36: they're so fucking sexy my lord

yourusername: you're so weak, one teammate flirts with me and you hard launch, i've had 12 year olds use me as a face claim to pretend they're pregnant with your child

charles_leclerc: they took your face? i happen to quite like it, can they give it back?

yourusername: quite?

charles_leclerc: don't make me look bad you know i positively LOVE YOUR FACE

yourusername: and my ass since it's all you look at on track

charles_leclerc: okay you can drop the act now people know we're in love stop being mean to me :(

yourusername: but it's true, no?

charles_leclerc: rest assured i love your actual ass much more

maxverstappen1: believe me the people she lives with know WAY too much about how much you love it

user37: carlos sainz really thought he had a chance when these fools have been together for TWO years

sebastianvettel: congratulations you two, glad we don't have to watch you two trying to be subtle now

maxverstappen1: so wait when did you find out?

sebastianvettel: about two weeks into the relationship, they were very obvious

yourusername: thank you for keeping our secret dad <3

user38: y/n really said you ARE my grid dad

yourusername: oh no that's my actual dad

charles_leclerc: he's literally going to walk y/n down the aisle

maxverstappen1: please don't tell me you're engaged? i only just got over you actually being together

charles_leclerc: i'm not your brother yet don't worry (i will be soon)

carlossainz55: congrats guys

user39: it's okay bro you can cry

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 2,301,541 others

tagged: charles_leclerc

yourusername: two years with the love of my life, still on max's side on val d'argenton x

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user40: they're disgusting (when will it happen to me)

charles_leclerc: we'll have to agree to disagree

yourusername: just admit it you love to push verstappens off the track

charles_leclerc: sorry babe as much as i love you, i'll never let you win x

yourusername: good thing i always beat you then x

charles_leclerc: either way victory sex still bangs

user41: yes, yes they're cute, but i need a full on play-by-play of how this relationship came to be

user42: i know these menaces were giggling and kicking their feet every time they had an argument in comment sections

yourusername: oh it was very fun

charles_leclerc: but the radio messaged are 100% real lol

maxverstappen1: thanks for having my back, you're welcome for all the gross pictures i've taken for you guys

yourusername: consider your payment like every meal i make us

maxverstappen1: well if i did it f1 would be down three drivers

user43: wait so does charles basically live with them now?

maxverstappen1: unfortunately yes. depressing music, even worse cooking than me and horrendously loud sex with my sister. i should kick him out

charles_leclerc: i literally bought you noise-cancelling headphones?

maxverstappen1: nothing you can say will save me from this trauma

yourusername: just shag daniel and get off of our case x

note: ahhhhh i am so sorry this request took so long, my inbox keeps moving stuff around lol. my finger is good thanks for asking, the human body is a wonder and i peeled off the last of my scab this week lol. i hope this was the kinda thing you were looking for !! xx

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: a little festive mat fic! written fairly quickly and minimally edited, but i wanted to get something out for the holiday! not too much more to say except i hope you guys all have a wonderful holiday and i’ll be quiet for the rest of the year, writing and stockpiling fics lol

word count: 4.8k

tw: a little innuendo, nothing crazy

summary: after spending the day hanging out with the team, you have some news for mat

“The snow was a nice touch,” you grin at Holly Horvat. A light dusting of snow is falling outside, the grass in the Horvats’ backyard already white.

Holly laughs, “oh, you know me. I have a connect to make sure even the weather is perfect for our events.” She pours M&Ms into a few small ramekins that are going to be placed around the kitchen island and dining room table where the kids will be decorating gingerbread houses.

The house is bustling with people and noise and you can’t help but love it. You miss having huge family gatherings, ever since your parents moved off Long Island and down south. The rest of your family is scattered to the winds, so it’s nice to be folded into the big team family get togethers. Joining a group of women who love any excuse to throw a party has been one of the biggest benefits from your relationship with Mat.

Half a dozen kids run past you - you spot the Bailey boys and Brock’s two oldest kids in the group as they blur by - holding jackets and their sneakers. “Mini sticks is getting moved outside,” Noah grins as he breezes past you, swiping a handful of M&Ms from the little bowl.

“Stay warm,” you tease, watching him follow the kids out the back door. A parade of adult men follow him - Wahlly, Casey, Josh, Brock, and finally Mat, who stops to give your waist a little squeeze.

“Kiss for luck?” He asks, puckering his lips at you in a dramatic duck face. You giggle and plant one on him, pulling back before he can slip his tongue past your lips.

Mat leans slightly against you, his face a little flushed already from the twenty minutes of mini sticks that’s been going on in the basement. “What do you need luck for?” You ask, carding your fingers through his hair.

“Jacky’s got a wicked wrister,” Mat grins, referring to Casey’s oldest, “and no idea how to aim. Do you know how many pucks to the head I’ve dodged?”

A snort of laughter makes Mat’s lips turn down in a frown. “Oh, I guess you just don’t care about my health,” he sighs dramatically, pulling away from your side. “It’s fine. I’ll take a slap shot to the head and then you’ll see how much you miss my charming personality.”

“Dramatics,” you murmur affectionately, hooking your fingers in his belt loops. “He’s five and you guys use a Nerf ball. I think you’ll live.”

“Maaaat!” Jack comes barreling through the room and crashes into your fiancé’s legs. “C’mon! Everybody’s outside.” The little boy looks adorable in his puffer coat, a little beanie pulled haphazardly over his blonde hair. He wrinkles his face up at Mat in an impatient frown and you can’t help but egg him on.

“Yeah, Mat,” you prod him in the side, looking innocent, “everyone’s outside already.”

He rolls his eyes at you, but grins down at Jack and swoops him into his arms, making Jack shriek with laughter. You prop your chin in the palm of your hand and watch Mat tickle Jack’s belly while he carries him outside. Jack’s little sneakered feet are kicking in the air, narrowly avoiding Mat’s head.

“He’s really good with the kids,” Kristy Cizikas comments, coming into the kitchen with baby Cole propped on her hip.

You scrunch up your face at Cole to make him laugh, “it’s because he’s a big kid himself, right Coley? Huh? Is Matty a big kid?” You giggle at your own baby talk and warmth blooms in your chest when you’re rewarded with a gummy baby smile. “Ooh, you make cute babies,” you tell Kristy.

She shakes her head affectionately, “I swear, they’re all Casey. It’s like my genes didn’t even try.”

“Hey, in like six months you and Mat can start catching up to the rest of us,” Sydney Martin teases, easily passing Alice to you when you reach out for the one-year-old. Alice immediately grabs a chunk of your hair and you wince, untangling chubby fingers from the strands.

You hum noncommittally as you work. “We’ll see what happens,” you shrug. “Might be nice to just be the two of us for a bit.”

“But don’t you want that all the time?” Syd laughs, gesturing to you now that Alice’s fingers are hooked in your mouth. You pretend to nibble on them, making her shriek with laughter. She finishes helping Holly set out the candy, knowing the rest of the kids will start wandering their way into the kitchen.

“One day, definitely,” you nod, settling Alice more securely on your lap, one arm looped around her stomach. The little girl slaps her palms happily on the countertop and you giggle, resting your chin on her head. “No rush though.”

As you settle at the table with the kids, the other guys trail in and out of the backyard, the noise of mini sticks floating inside.

You get to be in charge of Alice during decorating, sitting in between Syd with Winnie and Ashlee with Luca while the kids decorate their pre-made houses. You squirt a line of frosting onto the roof and Alice uses her little pincer grip to place M&Ms on the line. “Oh, good job,” you tell her in a bright, encouraging voice. She rewards you with a half melted piece of candy smushed against your cheek.

“Mommy,” Winnie’s little voice pipes up, “Ali’s makin’ a mess.”

“So are you, Win,” Sydney laughs, wiping up a smudge of frosting off of Winnie’s sweater. “Everyone is going to make a little bit of a mess and that’s okay.”

From your spot at the island, you can see right out the back door and you watch the mini sticks tournament that’s happening. Kids versus adults and honestly, it looks like the adults are having a rough go of it. Mat’s on the ground, a pile of children fighting him. Whally has Cal’s oldest on his shoulders and you honestly wonder how that ended up happening. Sticks have been discarded and the Nerf pucks are strewn around. You watch Casey pull Jack out of the pile on top of Mat, his little arms and legs kicking. From the ground, Mat jokingly sticks his tongue out at Jack and you shake your head. Of course he has beef with a five-year-old.

Bo and Gunnar join the fun outside and Mat slaps the little boy’s hand in a high-five. Your stomach swoops a little. It’s always such a turn-on when Mat interacts with kids, but it’s a little different now.

Alice pats your hand and grumbles a little. “Whoops, sorry, Al,” you squeeze more frosting onto the house for her to decorate.

“Distracted?” Ashlee asks, pulling Luca’s frosting covered hand away from his hair. She wipes his fingers off with a napkin and gives him a pretzel to stick onto his little house. She pops another pretzel into her own mouth.

You hum. “Just making sure he’s not being totally steamrolled by a pack of kids,” you laugh lightly. While Alice works on the roof of her house, you put a few Starburts in place to act as a little pathway going to the door.

In the backyard, Mat stands up, Mack and Wyatt Bailey hanging from each arm. He shakes them gently and you can see both boys’ heads fall back with wild laughter. Meg looks up from where she’s helping Blake with a pattern of Smarties on her roof. “Honestly, if he wasn’t busy with, you know, his actual job,” she laughs, “I’d hire him as a babysitter. The kids loved when he lived with us.”

The entire kitchen of women laugh when the back door slides open and Mat steps back inside, shaking melted snow from his short hair. He stops and looks up, scanning the room full of laughing women. “What?” He asks, eyebrows drawn together. “I interrupt something? Want me to leave so you ladies can keep talking about me?” He laughs brightly, flashing his teeth.

“You can stay,” you offer generously, tilting your head up as he passes for a kiss. Mat’s hand is freezing when it cups your jaw and you flinch a little. He mumbles a ‘sorry’ against your lips before kissing them. When he pulls away, to a soundtrack of ‘awww’s from the women and a joking ‘get a room’ from Sydney, you continue, “but you have to take orders from toddlers, if you do.”

“Like I’m not already doing that,” he laughs, swiping a thumb over your cheekbone and sucking it into his mouth. “Frosting,” he explains, smirking. Your cheeks flush.

Winnie stands up on her chair and leans into you, poking at your cheek with her fingers. “Red, I wanna be red!” She bounces a little and looks over at Mat who scrunches up his whole face at her and tickles her sides, making her shriek with laughter and flop back into Sydney’s arms.

Sydney laughs and tickles Winnie’s side, “girlfriend, you’re collecting boyfriends around here like they’re Pokémon cards.”

Satisfied by the chaos he caused, Mat backs into the hallway, explaining, “I was sent to get more jackets and gloves and sh-stuff,” he course-corrects before letting the curse slip. “It’s freezing out there.”

He’s gone, rummaging through the massive hall closet, before reappearing wearing his own coat and holding an armful of the other guys’ outerwear.

“Who’s winning?” Holly teases, while you all watch Mat struggle to pull a beanie on without dropping anything. He fails spectacularly and gives up when he realizes that everything’s slowly falling to the floor.

Mat scoffs. “The kids, obviously. They’re unhinged,” he grins widely and you can tell he’s having a blast. There’s a chorus of his name being shouted from outside and Mat scoops up the dropped outerwear before dashing off to rejoin the fun.

Sydney leans in and nudges your side gently. “He’s going to be a great dad,” she whispers, smiling knowingly.

You chew at the inside of your cheek and manage a barely convincing smile. “One day, definitely,” you reply, holding an Oreo for Alice to chew at.

She shoots you a little side eyed look and you studiously ignore her, focusing on telling Reese Cizikas how great her house looks. Things start to get messy - well, messier - after a while and the kids get antsy until they’re turned loose from the table to run off around the house. While you clean up the candy, the guys come back inside with the older kids and you can’t help but laugh at how the three youngest men, including your fiancé, have kids hanging off of them.

“If you kids let go of the guys,” Holly says warmly, “I’ll pass around some hot chocolate.”

It’s a mad scramble for the kids to abandon Mat, Noah, and Oliver - and they actually look mildly offended when the kids just toss their jackets back at them in their dash for hot chocolate. You take some of the gear from Mat and lean up on your toes to kiss his cheek, “don’t look so sad, you can have another play date with your friends soon.”

“Menace,” Mat grins, reaching around to pinch at your ass.

“I’ll text Kristy,” you giggle, continuing the joke, “Jack can come over and beat you at mini sticks again.”

“I’m gonna toss your phone into the ocean,” Mat deadpans.

You lower your voice and lean closer to him to whisper, “how will I send all those pictures you like?”

“You can keep the phone,” Mat replies immediately and you laugh, tugging at the open edges of his jacket. He pulls you close and you wrap one arm around his waist, his body warm even though his hands and face are cold. You bury your face in his chest and stifle a yawn. Mat’s hand is warming your back where he rubs it up and down your spine. “Still feeling gross after that bug?”

“Not gross,” you tilt your head to look up at him, still cuddled against his chest, “just tired. Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“We can head home, if you want,” Mat offers, but you shake your head again. You like it when the whole group is together and you want to keep enjoying the time with your friends.

You pull back slightly from Mat’s arms, his hands still resting on your back. “I just need a little bit of sugar and I’ll be good to go,” you smile at him. His eyes twinkle before he leans down and plants a smacking, dramatic kiss on your lips.

“Good to go?” He teases when he pulls back.

“Not that kind of sugar,” you giggle, delighted by him always.

“You guys are disgustingly cute,” Ashlee says, breaking into the Mat Barzal bubble that you’ve been enveloped in for the last few minutes. You startle a little and some of the other wives laugh.

“Oh god, she forgot we’re even here,” Sydney shakes her head, an exaggerated frown on her lips.

Meg smirks, “thank god we interrupted them before it went too far.”

Your cheeks are warm from the teasing and Mat just turns on the charm, grinning widely at his teammates’ wives. “It’s all part of the Barzal charm,” he wiggles his eyebrows.

“What charm?” Bo chirps, coming into the kitchen with Tulsa on his hip. “All you’re good at is league mandated iPad time.”

“Don’t forget all the time he spends sitting on his ass on the ice,” Noah grins wickedly.

“Tell us,” Casey asks you, “is it part of his charm when he messes up common sayings?”

You giggle, sucking your lips into your mouth when Mat glares down at you.

“You guys suck,” Mat flips them off, immediately apologizing when he realizes some of the kids are still in the room. “Sorry, Holly, Meg.”

They waive off his apologies, sending him into the den with a tray of snacks for the kids. They’re watching a movie, Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer if the familiar music is to be believed, and you know half the dads are also in the den, napping on the couches. Mat disappears for a while too and you leave him to the movie, knowing he’s exhausted. You get to hang out with the girls for a few more hours, interspersed with hugs and drawings from Gunnar and Winnie, before the party starts to break up.

Everyone’s gone slowly and then all at once, and you and Mat are walking the three blocks towards your house. He bumps your hip with his as you walk, his fingers laced with yours. “You coming to the game tomorrow?” He asks, getting a sense of what the week ahead will look like.

“Mhm,” you hum, “I’m going to go with Syd, so I’m not sure if I’ll end up staying the whole game. So make sure you do all the good stuff in the first.”

Mat bumps your hip again and you laugh, the sound echoing in the cold air. “I save all my best stuff for you,” he retorts, unlocking the front door and letting you step inside before him. He winks at you, his entire face scrunching up in his terrible attempt.

You scoff at him and flip the switches to turn on the Christmas lights, bathing the whole house in the warm glow of multi-colored string lights. You sigh happily, loving the over the top decorations you’d insisted on and the way the entire house smells like pine and cinnamon from diffusers and candles left open but unlit. Mat crowds your space and kisses the back of your neck.

“Couch time?” He mumbles against your skin.

“Couch time,” you agree, muffling another yawn.

You race to the bedroom, changing out of your clothes as quick as possible to get into comfy sweats and sweatshirts. Mat tosses a pillow at your face to distract you, but you swat it out of the air, nearly getting your foot stuck in the leg of your sweats.

“You like when I’m a weighted blanket,” Mat says, voice muffled by the sweatshirt he’s pulling over his head. “Why are you racing me to be on top?”

You don’t waste time pulling on your sweatshirt in the room and instead dart back out to the hallway and skip down the stairs, flopping onto the couch in just your sweats, completely topless. Mat’s hot on your heels and grumbles when he sees you yanking the fabric over your head. Smugly, you reply, “I don’t wanna be squished today. I want to use you as a body pillow.”

He submits to his fate and flops down onto the couch, oversized enough that the two of you could lay side by side and be comfortable, and opens his arms for you to crawl onto his chest. The both of you love the soft pressure of the other person laying on top of them so you’ve had to come up with a contest over the course of your relationship - first person on the couch gets to be on top. More often than not, you end up sprawled over Mat since it’s an easy way to transition into couch sex.

Now, you’re so tired you definitely will be keeping all of your clothes on. But you hum happily when you settle on top of him, your knees tucked nicely against either side of his hips, straddling his lap. When you curl up against his chest, your lower back stretches pleasantly and you wiggle a little, wrapping your arms around his torso and tucking your head under his chin. Mat’s arms wrap around you, one hand covering the back of your head so his fingertips can stroke against the shell of your ear.

He pulls the decorative blanket off the back of the couch with his other hand and arranges it over your bodies, making sure his feet stick out on the end so he doesn’t overheat. “You good?” He asks, his jaw bumping against the top of your head when he speaks. You nod against him and close your eyes, settling into his warmth. Mat turns on the TV, flipping it to ESPN before letting his hand rest low on the curve of your back, fingers grazing the top of your ass.

Mat’s heart beats steadily under your cheek and his hand is warm where it rests on your head. Couch time is exactly what you needed today. Your eyelids flutter shut every so often and you must fall asleep for a little nap because the next thing you know, it’s darker outside and Mat is running his thumb over your cheekbone.

“Hey,” he whispers and you lift your head to look at him blearily, momentarily confused.

“Hi,” you mumble sleepily, brushing your nose against his chin. “What time’s it?”

“Just after 4:30,” he replies and now the TV’s playing a rerun of The Office. He chuckles at a joke and rubs his fingertips against your scalp in a little massage. “You’ve been out for like forty-five minutes and I would’ve let you sleep, but I’m starving.”

Your heart skips a beat and you’re fully awake now. “Oh, same,” you say casually, rolling off of Mat and tucking yourself against his side. “I actually would love a piece of that gingerbread house that I ordered.”

“Gingerbread house?” Mat raises an eyebrow. “When’d you get that?”

“It was delivered the other day,” you explain. “I wanted something cute for our first engaged Christmas.”

Mat sits up, taking you with him and you wiggle around so you’re sitting cross-legged on the couch, facing him. “I totally forgot to show it to you,” you shrug, proud of yourself for being so normal. “But why don’t you go take a look and bring me back a piece?”

“Yeah, okay,” Mat shrugs, scratching your scalp once before getting up. “Dessert before dinner usually means eating you out, but gingerbread is cool too.”

He says it so casually that you don’t really process what he says until he’s already in the kitchen. You bounce up on your knees to look at him over the back of the couch, yelping his name when it finally sinks in. He’s laughing as he pulls the new box down from where it’s been sitting on top of the fridge. “Took you long enough,” he laughs, popping the top of the white cardboard. “That nap really must’ve taken it out of you.”

You scowl at him but don’t reply, anxiously waiting to see his reaction to the gingerbread house. He pulls it out of the box and his lips quirk up in a little smile. “It’s cute,” he says, looking at the house, professionally decorated. “Way better than the ones the kids made today.”

A laugh works its way out of your mouth as he studies it, taking in the details. “Huh,” he mutters, more to himself than anything else, “three people. Must’ve read your order wrong, Squeaks.”

“Oh?” You breathe. “There were supposed to be me and you…” You trail off.

“Yeah, they’re here,” Mat reads the little names iced onto the gingerbread people. “There’s you and Mat and…” he falters, squinting at the third figure, bringing it closer to his face, “Baby B?”

He looks over at you, forehead creased and eyebrows drawn together over his nose. “Baby B?” He repeats the question and you smile carefully at him, hand sliding across the back of the couch so your fingertips rest on your stomach.

“Baby B,” you confirm shakily. Tears well at your lower lash line and you watch Mat for his reaction.

He blinks at you, eyes darting between your face, your stomach, and the gingerbread figure held in his hand. “Wait? Seriously?” He sounds dazed and you can’t blame him. You were freaked out when you took the test a week and a half ago. It’s been the hardest secret you’ve ever had to keep. “You’re…there’s a baby?” His eyes are wide and his jaw hangs open a little.

You nod. “It’s, um, been hanging out for like six-ish, seven weeks,” you whisper, flattening your hand over your stomach. Mat’s eyes track your movement and he exhales a shaky breath.

Mat breathes your name and crosses the room in a few large strides. He cups your cheeks in his hands and studies your face, wiping at the tears that drip from your eyes. “Hey, c’mon, why’re you crying?” He asks, panic edging his tone.

“I know it’s earlier than we planned,” you shrug, “I’m going to be insanely pregnant at the wedding. We won’t get to be, like, newlyweds at all and the honeymoon’s going to have to change or be cancelled altogether.” You ramble on, all of your stress releasing in run-on sentences. You already love the baby, but getting pregnant before the wedding definitely wasn’t the plan.

Mat chuckles a little and you realize it sounds a little watery, like he’s trying to hold back his own emotion. “We’ll figure it out,” he says gently, squatting down so he’s closer to your eye level. “I’m gonna be a dad?”

“Yeah,” you confirm again. “Are you freaking out? Because I’m freaking out.”

“I’m definitely freaking out,” Mat confirms on a hysterical little laugh. His fingers tremble a little against your cheeks. “But it’s a good thing, right? Like, we’re gonna make the coolest babies.”

You nod. “They’re going to have amazing hair,” you giggle wetly.

Mat leans forward to kiss you softly, tasting the tears on your lips. When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, quietly breathing with you. “That, uh, wasn’t a stomach bug last week, was it?”

“No,” you shake your head against his. “I’ve had some pretty aggressive mid-morning sickness this past week.”

“How the hell did I miss that?” He asks and it’s mostly rhetorical because Mat is not the most observant of men on a good day, let alone during a week and a half period where they’re playing a game every other day.

You lean back and tap at your stomach with your fingers, “baby’s already pretty good about not inconveniencing you. It was bad after you’d already left for practice.”

“I kind of can’t believe our baby’s in there,” Mat says, looking down at your stomach. His hands fall to the back of the couch and his fingers twitch, like he wants to reach out and touch you, but he doesn’t.

“Me either,” you admit. “And I’ve had a week to get used to the idea.”

“Shit, Squeaks,” he shakes his head again, a little smile playing on his lips, “a baby. We’re gonna be in charge of a real baby.”

Your answering laugh is a little hysterical. You’re obviously not the first of your friends to have a baby, but it feels insane that you’re here, especially before the wedding. Your parents are going to be so annoyed. “Good thing we have friends who know what they’re doing,” you murmur, covering Mat’s hands with yours and lacing your fingers together. You look at your joined fingers and your heart lurches in your chest. Quietly, you ask him, “we’re going to be good at this, right?”

“Hell if I know,” Mat admits. You frown at him - that was less than reassuring, but at least he’s honest. He jolts a little, his eyebrows lifting into his hairline, and you cock your head at him in a silent question. “I realized,” he says, a little sheepishly, “that I never said I was happy about this, but I am. I’m excited, scared as shit, but excited.”

“Me too,” you let loose a relieved laugh. You hadn’t realized how much you needed to hear Mat say he was happy about the baby. It’s been a weight on your shoulders ever since that positive pink line appeared on the test. “Um, there is one thing you could do for me right now though.”

Mat perks up and nods, “yeah, whatever you need, babe. You’re going to be so sick of me and how attentive I’ll be.”

You have no doubt about that, but for now - “can you get me a piece of that gingerbread? I’ve been craving it since the stupid thing was delivered yesterday.”

Mat laughs and stands up to retrieve the cookie, much to your delight. It’s been taunting you for more than twenty-four hours now and you nibble at the gingerbread version of yourself happily. Mat flops down onto the couch next to you and you tuck yourself up against his side. His hand absently runs up and down your arm, his eyes focused in the direction of the TV, but not actually paying attention.

You’re quiet at his side, knowing he needs to process the news. You were lucky in that you were alone when you found out so you could freak out without Mat seeing just how scared you were. Now that it’s been a week of knowing and Mat’s reaction wasn’t a total meltdown, you can relax a little, even start to get excited about having a little summer baby. Mat will get to spend time with you and the baby since you’re due in late August, by your admittedly shaky math.

Subconsciously, Mat’s hand wanders down your side, splaying on your waist, fingers stretching to cover part of your stomach. He rubs his thumb against your ribs and a little huff of disbelief leaves his throat. “Too bad you’re not due before the wedding,” he says, looking down at you with a little smile, “she could’ve been in the wedding, like Gracie at Bearsy’s wedding.”

Your throat clogs with emotion, thinking of your baby being at the wedding, and you bury your face in Mat’s side so he can’t see how tears well up in your eyes again. “You can’t say cute shit like that to me right now,” you mumble, “my hormones are in overdrive.”

Mat pulls you onto his lap so you’re straddling his thighs. He kisses the corner of your mouth and you sigh, resting your arms on his shoulders. “Let me know when I can start saying cute shit,” his grin is shit-eating, “because I just realized that there’s a chance we could put the baby in the Cup this summer.”

“Gotta win it first,” you counter, teasing him. He rolls his eyes and lets his hands drift over your stomach, broad palms covering the expanse of the still flat area.

“Got a new motivation now,” Mat replies and even though he still looks stunned, you can see how excited he’s getting about the baby.

You look down at where his hands cover your stomach and it’s all too easy to picture his hands holding a newborn baby with his eyes and your nose, a little shock of Mat’s dark hair on its head.

You can’t wait.

[badkitty3000]

Five and Lila are stuck in the Subway and since this is Lila's first apocalypse she has a major panic attack at the end of 6 years and Five calms her down, this is where she tries to come onto him but he firmly rejects her in a mixture of sweet, comforting, funny, asshole way.

I won't lie, my immediate reaction to this request was "NOOO", merely because I have been trying to avoid anything to do with this season and just generally pretending it doesn't exist. But then I started thinking about it and it was a really good idea. So, thank you, anon...you gave me some light at the end of the tunnel. Here is my take on this request as a nice little alternate scene instead of what we were given by the actual show.

You Made It Weird. Real Fucking Weird

2607 words, one-shot

Warnings: None. Zero Smut! Zero Romance!

“How long has it been now?”

“You just asked me that no more than two minutes ago.”

Lila lets out a long, dramatic whine and slides down the cement support beam of the subway station, drawing her knees up to her chest. “Two minutes? God, why does everything seem to take so long down here?”

There’s a pause and Five keeps quiet.

“So, how long now?”

“Jesus, Lila!” He sighs. “You really want to know?”

Lila nods sadly, her tangled hair hanging over her dirt-smudged face. “Yes.”

Five waits a beat because he knows she’s not going to like the answer. “If my calculations are correct, it’s been 6 years, 5 months, and 2 days.”

He watches as his partner in time-crime stares at him in disbelief. “But, that’s impossible. We can’t have been gone that long. I haven’t seen my own face in a while, but I can sure as bloody hell see yours and it’s still as smooth as a baby’s ass. That makes no sense!”

Five shrugs and looks guilty, although he’s not sure why. It’s not his fault time travel is so complicated. “Time travel is a finicky mistress. We just don’t seem to age on this train; I can’t explain it. There’s a lot of things I can’t explain, actually.”

Lila bangs her forehead against her knees a few times, making guttural groaning noises. When she looks up, it’s as if she has morphed into an entirely different person. She looks manic and scared, with her wide eyes and rapid breathing. She looks deranged. Five takes a small step back.

“Are you ok?” he asks dubiously.

Lila shakes her head. “No,” she says quietly. Then she scrambles up from the ground and starts yelling. “No, I’m not ok, Five! Of course I’m not ok! I’ve been away from my family for almost seven years!” Tears start welling up in her eyes. “My kids…I haven’t seen my kids in that long…oh my god…and Diego…” her voice trails off. After a second, her head whips in his direction again. “We need to go back, Five. I need to go back! Like right now!”

“What the hell do you think we’ve been trying to do? If I had a way back, I’d tell you, but I don’t.”

“No…no no no no…this cannot be happening. I don’t know what I was thinking. Five, my kids!” She stares at him with the most heartbreaking look on her face, the tears starting to quietly drip down her cheeks, leaving trails through the dirt smudges. Five’s demeanor starts to soften.

“Listen, I know this is terrible and I know you need your family. But the good news is, they don’t even know you’re gone. No time has passed for them.”

“How the hell do you know? You just said time travel was a judgy whore.”

“Finicky mistress, but sure, we can go with judgy whore. And I’m not sure on a lot of aspects of it, but that part I am sure of.”

That calms her a little bit and she takes a deep breath. “But…even if that were true and no time has passed for them, once we get back won’t that mean I’ll have aged by years in a matter of minutes? What if my kids don’t even recognize me? What if they’re scared of me because their mother is suddenly a haggard old witch with wrinkles and gray hair?”

Five shakes his head with a small smile. “Like I said, I don’t think we’re aging. I think it will be just fine.”

“You think?” She screams at him again. “Oh, well, that’s just great, Five! I’ll try not to worry that my entire life has been destroyed because you, the most self-centered asshole I have ever met, thinks it’ll be fine!”

“You know, if I recall, this was all your idea in the first place!” Five shoots back. “Because you were bored with your life and needed some adventure. So, who’s the self-centered asshole now?”

Lila stops and looks down at the ground. When she looks up, her face has changed again. It starts to crumble and she cries in earnest, her shoulders shaking with loud sobs. Five rolls his eyes and sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets, and looks around uncomfortably. Finally, he concedes and closes the few steps between them.

“It’s going to be ok,” he says softly. “I promise. I’ll get you back home.”

When he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into a hug, Lila collapses into him, her forehead pressed against his chest and her hands clutching onto the front of his wrinkled suit. She lets him take her full weight against him, eventually dragging them both down until they’re kneeling on the cold cement floor.

“Promise me,” Lila pleads in between sobs. “Promise me you’ll fix this.”

“I’ll fix it. I promise,” Five whispers as he rests his cheek on the top of her head.

They stay there for a few more minutes as Lila continues crying and Five rubs her back. Once she starts to settle down again, she sniffs loudly and Five can feel her body relax into his. He keeps holding her because he’s not quite sure when he should let go without seeming rude. In order to stave off the awkwardness that he feels is imminent, he clears his throat.

“You remember Dolores?”

There’s a pause. “You mean the mannequin you were shagging?”

Five grits his teeth. “Yes. That one.”

“What about her?”

“All those years it was just me and her. Forty-five years in my apocalypse and she was all I had. I loved her and she made me whole. We were a good team.”

Lila doesn’t say anything, but she adjusts herself and pulls away from Five. She shuffles back so that she’s leaning against the pillar again and Five joins her.

“I know how you feel, believe me. It’s horrible to be away from your family or the world you know. Not sure if you’ll ever make it back again, or if you’ll just die all alone with no one to grieve you. If I didn’t have Dolores…” Five swallows. “I don’t know what would have become of me. Humans just aren’t meant for solitary lives.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” Five starts warily, “You aren’t alone. And neither am I this time. We have each other. And even if I could not imagine a more annoying person to be stranded in a matrix of shitty timelines with, I’m still glad you’re here with me.”

Lila looks over at him and sees he’s actually smiling. She wipes away the remaining tears that have slipped down to her chin. “You are?”

Five nods. “It’s true. We can do this, Lila. Because we’re not alone. Anything is possible when you have someone you can count on.”

As Lila studies Five’s face, something in hers switches. She leans in, slowly at first, and then lunges toward him, grabbing the lapels of his suitcoat and pulling him in for a kiss. Five quickly jerks his head back and leans as far away as possible, until his body is practically flat on the ground. Lila’s hands are still clutching at his coat and she leans over him as he sits up on his elbows.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks incredulously.

“I’m trying to kiss you, shithead. Now hold still.”

She leans in again, and Five risks a blink to get himself out of the situation as quickly as possible, leaving Lila falling forward onto the ground. He reappears a few feet away. The look on Lila’s face tells him she is not happy. And possibly insane.

“What is wrong with you?” Five barks. “Have you lost your damn mind?”

Lila stands up, brushing off her hands on her pant legs. “Apparently, I have! Because after your stupid, beautiful story, compounded with the fact that I haven’t touched a man in damn near seven years, you’re not looking so bad at the moment. And even if we do end up getting out of here, who knows how long that’s going to take. So, you’re all I have, as pathetic as that may be. Now, get over here so I can jump those puny little bones of yours.”

“Christ, Lila, get ahold of yourself!”

“What’s the matter? Scared that I’m a real woman?”

“No, actually there’s the small matter that you’re married to my brother. And you’re the mother of my nieces. And lest you forget, we have tried several times to kill one another in the past, so I’m thinking that may put a little damper on any romance between us. Shall I go on?”

Lila begins to look like she has a little more clarity again. “Right, that’s all true, isn’t it? You did once call me a sentient STD.”

Five gestures toward her and runs a hand through his hair in relief, letting out a loud exhale. “See? There you go!”

“Oh, god,” Lila starts, as she clutches her stomach. “I think I might be sick.”

“Alright, now you’re just being dramat—”

“No, no, really. I’m going to hurl,” she answers with a groan, doubling over and retching loudly.

Five crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “Are you done?”

Lila spits a couple of times onto the ground and wipes her mouth with her coat sleeve. She nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Fabulous,” Five says dryly. Then he hands her a somewhat clean napkin he had stuffed in his pocket earlier. “Here.”

Lila takes the napkin and covers her mouth with it before looking guiltily at Five. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

Five’s posture relaxes again. “It’s ok. You just went a little off the deep end. It’s understandable. People in stressful situations do some pretty weird things.”

“Shit…I made it weird, didn’t I?”

Five chuckles. “I’ll get over it.” He leans cooly up against the cement pillar, crossing his ankles. “Besides, I now have some pretty great leverage over you. Now that you tried to fuck me.”

Lila gags again. “An attempted kiss is not the same as me trying to fuck you!”

Five’s mouth presses into a thin line and he cocks his head to the side, eyebrows drawn together. “Yeah…you tried to fuck me.”

“Oh screw you, you little…”

“See? There you go again,” Five interrupts, shaking his head sadly. “It’s like you just can’t help yourself. I do understand the impulse, but really Lila…keep it in your pants, ok?”

Lila’s face evolves from shock and rage to reluctant amusement, and soon she is cracking up laughing. Five joins her until they are both wiping tears from their faces.

“Oh, holy shit, I need to be locked up in the asylum again,” she wheezes out as her laughter starts to die down.

“That is a possibility,” Five says.

“I’m really sorry, Five.”

“I know. Are you going to be ok?”

Lila nods. “Yeah, I think so.” She plops herself down on the edge of the subway platform, swinging her legs. Five comes and sits next to her. “Thank you,” she says.

“No problem. I’m sure I’ll have a nervous breakdown next and you can talk me down from the ledge.”

“I really miss them, you know,” Lila says quietly. “I hope they don’t forget me.”

Five reaches over and snaps the elastic on the beaded bracelet that hasn’t left Lila’s wrist in 13-some years. “Don’t worry, they won’t. Diego loves you; he’d wait a thousand years for you. And you’re a good mom. Your kids know that.”

Another tear slips down her cheek. “Thanks, Five.”

There is a moment of silence, then Five looks over at her. “Now is the time you say something nice about me.”

Lila smiles and bumps him with her shoulder. “You aren’t so bad to have as an end-of-the-world partner.”

“Thank you.”

“You smell nice, too.”

“I smell nice?”

“Yeah. Even when we haven’t found a water source to wash off with for weeks, you never stink. I don’t know how you do it.”

Five laughs. “That may be the nicest compliment I have ever gotten, believe it or not.”

“You’re welcome.”

Lila leans in and rests her head on his shoulder. “God, I fucking hate this place.”

“Me, too.”

As if on cue, the loud whooshing noise of an incoming train can be heard approaching, and they blink against the bright headlamps that tear through the darkness.

“Well, here we go again,” Lila says as she takes Five’s hand and lets him pull her up to standing.

“Maybe this will be the last one,” he says with a shrug.

She grins at him. “Yeah, maybe it will be.”

As the doors open, Five gestures for her to go first. “I don’t want you checking out my ass,” he explains.

Lila snorts. “I can’t even if I wanted to, the damn thing’s so flat. Like a smashed hamburger.”

☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️

As the two of them stand on the porch of Lila’s house, she rings her hands nervously.

“You’re sure it’s only been a short amount of time for them?”

Five nods. “I’m sure.”

“And you’re sure I don’t look like I’m a hundred years old?”

“You inexplicably look just like you did when you left. I don’t even know how we got our old clothes back, but like I said, time travel is—”

“A whiny bitch,” she finishes for him.

Five sighs. “Right. Ok, are you ready?”

Lila nods. “Yep, ready.” She reaches for the door and then pulls her hand away. She turns to Five and shoves a finger in his face. “Don’t you dare say anything about what happened.”

Five smiles cruelly. “You mean when you tried to force me into having sexual relations with you? Oh, no I wouldn’t dare. Unless I have to, obviously. I don’t want to have to lie to my own brother, after all.”

“Damn it! Fine, you little shit stick. I will pay for one whole year’s worth of dry cleaning for your crappy little suits. Deal?”

“No deal. You called my suits crappy.”

“Ugh!” Lila throws her hands in the air and looks at the door nervously. “A year’s worth of dry cleaning and I’ll finally introduce you to that cute, single teacher at Grace’s school that you’ve been eye-fucking for the last year.”

Five thinks it over. “Deal.” He sticks out his hand to shake hers with a lopsided grin.

“Thanks again for everything. It’s been…interesting. But I’m glad I had you there with me,” she says with a smile.

“I’m glad you were there, too. We make a good team.”

As they step inside the house, Lila sees immediately that Five had been right. No one has aged. Nothing has changed. Her entire family is right where she had left them and she bursts into tears. Diego comes up, carrying one of the twins and gives her a quick kiss.

“Are you crying? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Lila smiles through her tears. She reaches up and loops her arms around her husband’s neck, giving him a long and passionate kiss. “I just missed you, that’s all.”

As Diego stands there looking like a big dopey man in love, Five pipes up from behind.

“Hey Diego, good to see you again. Did you know your wife here tried to fuck m—”

Lila’s hand shoots out and without even looking, her fist rams right into Five’s crotch. As he gasps and wheezes, doubling over in pain, she smiles her wicked smile.

“Don’t mind him. Now what delicious thing did you make for dinner, darling? It smells amazing!”

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things: chapter three

aizawa x reader fic

cw: cisfem reader, no quirks, office au, miscommunications, slow burn, sexting, alcohol consumption. full tags available on AO3 (linked in masterlist)

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Hizashi and his (real) wife are exactly the type of people that you want to notice you from across the room. While Hizashi is long and lean, Nemuri is all curves, with a delightfully heart shaped face and wide, thick thighs that you can’t stop yourself from looking at sometimes. Her dark hair is pressed into curls, as deep and as black as her lipstick.

“Do you want a taste?” Nemuri leans in, elbows tucked against her ribcage, pushing her chest up just a bit more. Her dress is sheer enough that you can catch a hint of nipple, dark and pearled up in the cold-

“Uh-?” You rip your eyes away. Two drinks in and you’re already ogling. You’d feel bad about it if the couple didn’t absolutely bask in the attention.

“Of my drink.” Nemuri says, like she knows what she's doing. “Taste my drink.”

“Leave the poor girl alone- Shouta has her all riled up.” Hizashi laughs, wrinkling his nose in delight as he watches the both of you. His cheeks are flushed with alcohol, glasses off kilter one way and smile tilted the opposite. The top five buttons of his business appropriate top are undone, meaning he’s also sporting a bit too much nipple for late afternoon. 

“I was just trying to see that pretty smile,” she pouts, with the almost unobtainable balance of sweet and sexy.  You’re not sure if she’s really this pretty, or if it's rose colored glasses, tinted by your own jealousy.

You take Nemuri's drink and tip it back, swallowing it faster than your brain can process the flavor. It's gin, maybe absinthe: you just know that it burns. Fighting through your gag reflex, you offer a quick grin, one much less wobbly than it was earlier. 

“Aw, there it is!”

Nemuri runs the city’s one and only ‘lifestyle club’: Midnight. From what you've heard, it's a very lux, beautiful venue, filled with torrid amounts of untold debauchery and countless swingers. Technically, the couple started it together- which, now that you’re thinking about it, says a lot about their relationship. They’re the type of couple that’s almost too similar: they're too much, too loud, too nice, too confident. 

 Most of your friends couldn’t leave work midday on a Thursday, so your ‘birthday bash’ is less exciting than Hizashi had originally planned. That’s fine; you didn’t need more than this.

“Are you feeling better?” Hizashi asks softly. The restaurant is quiet, with only a couple of other tables filled. The three of you had chosen a booth in the very back, hidden away from everyone else who wanted a quiet meal; the waiter seems grateful for that. He’s in the opposite corner, checking his phone and waiting for you to finish your drinks before heading back over. Drinking at 3 in the afternoon isn’t usually your style, but you think you deserve it today. It’s a hat trick: breaking up, turning thirty, and getting screamed at. Maybe a meteor will fall from the sky and really add insult to injury.

“No.” You slump into the booth and the room follows suit. “Aizawa's such an asshole.”

The couple gives you identical looks: tiled heads and pressed lips. Both of them are a bit older than you, 37 and 38, but most of the time you don’t feel the gap. Today, however, you do; you feel like a baby, sucking down fruity drinks while moping about. It’s incredibly childish, but you just can’t stop yourself. You want time to be sad.

“He doesn’t mean to be.” Hizashi starts. 

“But he is!” you whine. “I don’t know how you guys are even friends with him.”

“He's different outside of work.” Nemuri says. Shit-talking the man puts them into a strange position, you know that. They have all known each other since college; Aizawa had even gotten Hizashi his current position at the company. It’s strange to think that they are friendly-- let alone close- but you guess they’re both friendly with everyone.  “He's a real kitten in real life.”

You try and imagine the guy without a stick up his ass and can’t. What-- is he doing yoga and petting puppies in his free time? As if. All that blue light has rotted his brain.

“He's just crazy stressed. It makes him act like a bone head.” Hizashi  reasons with a shrug, forever unflappable. His own drink is almost empty, so he gestures for another. “I'm sure he'll apologize tomorrow.” 

The bartender is quick to bring you guys another round. He asks about food, which the couple is quick to order, insisting that everything is their treat. That’s probably a good thing; that half a latte you had for breakfast isn’t doing anything to absorb the alcohol in your system and your stomach is growling. In the meantime, you take the cherry out of your drink and chew on it. You’ll have to savor this drink, just to make sure you don’t get too drunk-

Nemuri leans in conspiratorially. “Was it at least kind of hot?”

“What?”

“Having Shouta scold you.”

What.

“What.”

Hot? Hot?

“What.” you repeat, stressing the vowel.

“He's a handsome guy!” she laughs, throwing her hair over her shoulder. “Deep voice, kind of domineering-- it didn't… turn you on a little bit?” 

“And you clearly have a thing for assholes-” Hizashi grins, then yelps, shooting his wife a glare. “Ouch, don't kick me!”

Nevermind. You take a long, long sip of your cocktail until your stomach and vision swirl. You need it.

“And he’s hotter than that idiot you were dating- ‘muri, stop kicking me.”

The only time Touya ever came to your work was for a Christmas party. He was very interested to learn that Hizashi and Nemuri's relationship was open and seemingly forgot that your relationship was, in fact, closed. It's been ages since you forgave him, but Mic still hasn’t moved on. 

“Stop saying dumb shit then.” She rolls her eyes, then returns her attention back to you. “He’s right though.”

“Touya is--”  Defending him is reflexive. It's not that Touya isn't attractive, it just happens to be in his own way. Maybe other people would see it if he smiled more or pulled out some piercings. Sure. you had never seen yourself with someone as grungy as him, but... “He’s handsome and kinda charming.”

The energy shifts. Hizashi practically leaps across the table, scooping your hands into his, eyes wide with horror.

“Please don’t tell me you’re taking him back,” he begs. Apparently, your face answers for you. because he draws back, horror drawn across his features. “No. No! You're better than this!”

That phrase hits you funny and you remember Aizawa told you the same thing. Better than this-- why does everyone decide that you need better? Why can’t you be okay with… just okay? Mediocrity fits you well. 

“Am I?” you say into the glass edge of your drink. 

“You're miles out of his league. You deserve someone with a full time job, and a savings, and who doesn't habitually cheat-”

“Hizashi, leave her alone.” Nemuri glances his way and he immediately complies, throwing his hands up in surrender. When she returns her attention to you, her expression is kinder. “Don’t do something you regret just because you’re sad. You just need to get back in the saddle and you'll feel way better.”

“Yeah, once you're back at work, things will smooth out,” Hizashi says.

“Work isn’t the saddle- a dick is the saddle,” she corrects. “You just need a crazy hook up.”

It’s not that you don’t like sex. You think it’s perfectly fine. You’re just not in love with it the same way these two are. The whole experience of it all is so exciting and wonderful in theory, but in practice? It’s more awkward moments than orgasms. It doesn’t help that Touya is the only person you’ve ever slept with, since he’s admittedly selfish in that department.

You realize you’ve been silent for a suspiciously long amount of time. “Oh, well, uh-” you try to come up with an excuse. “I dunno how to date-- I’ve been with Touya for years.” 

“Sex isn’t dating.” she insists. “It’s just-- mutual fun and understanding. What’s your type?”

“Dark hair, I guess.” You aren’t really sure. “Are you going to bring me to your club and set me up with someone?”

“No way.” She leans forward on to her elbows again. “It’s a bad environment for a beautiful girl who can't say no.”

You try to imagine yourself being hit on, maybe a man buying you a drink or inviting you on to his lap, and can’t bring yourself to say no. You heave a sigh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“See? You can’t even argue with me. Midnight is the major leagues-- start with the basics. Do you own a vibe?”

You glance over at Hizashi.

“Pretend I’m not here.”  He says, leaning back with a smirk.

“Uh-” You glance between the two, trying to decide how honest you should be. Laughter bubbles out of you that you can’t  quite control. “No?”

Both of them look aghast.

“Finish that drink and get your phone out.” Nemuri demands. “You’re buying yourself a birthday present.”

.

The rest of the night is a bit of a blur. There’s dinner and drinks and a stroll around town, the bits and blurs of laughter and conversation and the back of Hizashi’s car. By the time you’re dropped off at your apartment building, you’re wobbling on your heels and pleading for the world to stay still. Overindulging isn’t usually your speed, but it’s certainly fun.

 Your key barely makes it into your lock and you stumble in, laughing at the way your oven’s clock flashes at you. 8:00: in college you could have been out all night, but now you’re ready for bed before the good television shows come on.  

The bed is still made from this morning, sheets untouched and pillows unsquished.  

You don't want to sleep alone.

The bathroom calls your name. You're supposed to be washing your face, but you can't rip yourself away from your phone long enough to bother. 

You don't want to sleep alone.

Nemuri was right, you just need to get under someone and you'll feel better. You’re itching for it, needy for touch, desperate for the validation that love affords you. Midnight will be open soon and its only a train ride away, but you aren’t a member and Nemuri made it clear you wouldn’t be getting an exception. You could download a dating app and scroll, but the idea of a stranger entering your life and home feels wrong. It’d be easier to stay with something familiar… someone you know..

AVOID AT ALL COST sits at the top of your contacts, mocking you in all capital letters. Touya. The man who won’t even read your texts. At this point, crawling back to his is ugly and pathetic, but your drunk brain keeps looping back to the idea of sex and love and touch and-

You close your eyes for deniability, then click.

i wish you were here<-

iwnt you so bad right now<-

You cringe at the typo, regret sitting heavy in your belly. Read sits heavy at the corner of the screen, taunting you with your mistake-

Your drunk brain catches up. Read? He… read it? Typing bubbles appear, then disappear. Then, they pop up again, typing for an uncomfortably long time. Despite yourself, you get excited, rolling on the balls of your feet and bouncing. Touya is answering you. When you’re starved for affection, even the smallest bits feel like full meals, both saiating you and wetting your mouth for more.

->Are you sure you're texting the right person? 

->I thought you hated me.

You lean against your bathroom sink to steady your hands, giggling and twitting about. 

I wish i hated you lol <-

but i just want you so bad <-

You lean against the sink, watching the little "seen" pop up under your messages. When the typing bubbles don’t immediately appear, you send off another.

 id let you have me <-

 any way you want me <-

You almost stop there, but then you catch your own eye in the mirror. Your outfit is a bit disheveled, your makeup is more than a bit smeared, but you look… good. Just fucked and ready for more. Your dress isn’t low cut enough to be inappropriate for work, but you manage to shimmy it lower, hem pressed just below the curve the lacy edge of your bra. It’s nothing new to him, but it still feels dirty, illicit enough to steal your breath away.

The response is instant.

->God. How are you so…

->Don't tease me if you don't mean it. 

Oh, you’ll tease him alright. You’re going to tempt this man away from wherever he is and back into your bed. You pull your skirt up this time, hiking it all of the way up your thighs until just a hint of your skin toned undies are on display. With the camera just slightly out of focus, it really looks like you've shown him a sliver of cunt.

->Fuck. 

->You're right. I want you. 

->I’ve always wanted you. 

You giddily skip to your room, tossing yourself on your bed. You should really shower first, but your body is hot and primed; your hand is already sliding down, the heel of your palm grinding against your needy core.  You need something to touch you, you need the friction of someone else. There’s a vibrator in your amazon cart, but you can’t wait for 2 day shipping.

For now, the edge of a pillow will have to do. You bunch it below you and rock your hips, searching for that perfect angle that will-

More texts come through.

->I've always thought about fucking you against your desk after everyone else has left. Those stupid slippers over my shoulders. Your lips on mine.

-> I know you taste sweet. All over.

A shiver turns through you. Yes, you need to be tasted, you need his teeth in your neck and his spit on your tits-

are you jacking off right now? <-

There’s a gap. Maybe you've pressed too far.

->Yes. 

I wish my hands were as soft as yours.

 lemme see <-

You expect the messages to dry up there. Touya likes the chase, not the follow through. You put your phone down and shift your weight more, trying to focus on rolling your hips just right. A pressure is building inside you, one that’s warm and fuzzy and rolling into your chest and down into your cunt. Your eyes close and you chase that high.

A message comes through.

A video message.

You scramble to press play, hips rolling against your pillow on their own, searching for friction. 

A barely there moan hits you first.

The video is dark and grainy, but you can make out the shape of his cock, heavy against his thick thigh. His pubes have grown out, a dark patch of hair that trails up his soft stomach and out of frame. You can see every breath he pulls, stomach constricting and expanding. The hand that isn't holding the camera is looped around the base of his cock, squeezing gently before slowly stroking the length. His fingers are slick with lube or precum and they glide over his length, earning you another growl of a moan.

Chills run through your body. Fuck. Holy fuck. He must really miss you. He's throbbing for you and you swear he's bigger than ever. It must be the angle and your drunk mind, but he looks huge.

never shave ever again ok I love how manly it looks <-

and fuck your voice is so hot I almost came from that alone <-

->Are you touching yourself?

yes<-

->Show me.

Embarrassment suddenly hits you. Touya always told you that men were visual creatures and rutting against a pillow like an animal isn’t the ‘porn pretty’ pictures he expects. Usually, you’d comply and pose how you know he likes it, but the room is off kilter and your body is heavy. Besides, Nemuri and Hizashi were right-- an orgasm would fix you. You need to keep going right now or else your stomach’s going to cramp.

i’m embarrassed <-

It’s mostly the truth. You would understand if he stopped texting you after that, but a response comes quickly. 

That’s okay. <-

Tell me about it? <-

Your heart thumps. Then, again. That shouldn’t be hot. 

->i'm humping my pillow and wishing it was you

My leg or my cock? <-

Fuck. When did he get good at this?

->whatever you'll give me

Ride my thigh and we'll see what you deserve.<-

God, it's just words, but you feel electric. When did he get good at this? The heat in your core feels like it's going to consume your whole body and you can't help but to continue to stroke it; you squeeze your thighs and tilt your hips over and over again, thinking about that wide thigh and his manly, big hands. God, you should be texting back, but you're just-- just--

Your orgasm hits you way quicker than usual. It's one that hits you all at once, straightening your back and stealing your breath and just tickling every inch of your core. It's all consuming and followed by the creamy feeling bliss that you so desperately needed. As you  flop forward and sink into your mattress, sleep nipping at your heels, you gather yourself enough to send one final picture.

You collect your cum in your fingers and scissor them back and forth, letting the wetness web in between. When you lift your hand, it catches in the overhead light, clear and lovely and all for him. The photo you take is a bit out of focus, exhaustion settling into your bones, but it’s very clear when you’re showing.

-> next time you make me cum ebtter be in person

-

The next morning you wake up to a pounding headache and fuzzy teeth, but your body feels good. There’s something looser, lighter, inside you, like you’ve relaxed for the first time in forever.  You can’t even bring yourself to care that your phone is dead or that you’re running a bit late to work. It’s awful to admit, but Nemuri was right- an orgasm really did fix you. Maybe that’s why the two of them are always so chipper; they’re definitely fucking like rabbits.

You plug in your phone and get ready for the day. Three ibuprofen and a shower mostly fix your headache and a very thorough brushing fixes everything else. Your toothbrush still sits next to Touya’s, seemingly the only thing in the apartment he forgot to take, but today that doesn’t fill you with dread. Things, finally, are good again. Pretty words have soothed all of your wounds and you’re just waiting for him to come back home to you.

It’s all you can think about as you get dressed. You slip into something black-- Touya’s favorite-- and put on those special red heels again, even though your instep is rubbed raw.

You're almost out the door when you remember your phone. You scramble back to your bedroom and start it up as you head out the door. The screen boots up and messages start inching their way in. A couple from friends, apps, and-

Hm. That’s. 

A name that you don’t expect pops up. Aizawa Shouta sits at the top of your direct messages, five messages sent through. Yesterday, you’d probably think you were losing your job or the world was ending, but today you can take it in stride. Hizashi was right; the man is already trying to apologize! You open the message and smugly prepare for the groveling-

-> I bet you looked so pretty when you came.

[guardarecheluna]

I know you’d never leave me behind, but i am lost this time.

Words: 5K

Warnings: Fluff, Angst (Arguments, miscommunication, anxiety.)

Summary: Harry has never been an anxious person before having his daughter. And bursting through the baby bubble, leaving the safety of home behind was more difficult than expected; way more difficult than expected.

“She’s just over a week old, and you’re insane if you think we’re taking her to see my family. She could get really sick, so tell me, what is it that you don’t understand?”

Harry’s harsh tone was resonating in Y/N’s system as she looked up at him from her place on the sofa. Harry was holding their newborn in his strong arms, her little head perfectly supported in the crook of his arm. And even with his frustration spilling out on Y/N, he was gently swinging side to side, to keep little Elida calm and happy. Y/N swallowed harshly and bit her tongue, not wanting to upset him further or wake up their sleepy baby.

Anne had been terrorising the new family with calls every day since the birth of Elida. She didn’t mean no harm, they knew, but she had been asking to come meet her grandbaby. However, Harry and Y/N were in agreement that they wanted the first week on their own, no visitors unless wanted, just to get settled into being a new family and spend time in the baby bubble. It had now been over a week, and without thinking much about it, Y/N had agreed to travel up to see Anne, from London, without talking to Harry first. She figured it would be fine, they had only discussed a week, Y/N had been feeling better and better since the birth, and Elida was getting used to her life out of the sac nicely. Y/N was also desperate to get out of the house at this point, to see another face, and show off the new family member. Y/N just didn’t expect hell to break loose when she mentioned it to Harry.

“I can’t believe you’re not thinking about Elida, she’s so little, and they’re going to be all over her with their germs. It’s our baby, they can wait for a few more weeks.” Harry continued on, Y/N have barely stuttered a word in response to his words. She had no idea that agreeing to come see Anne the next day would cause such a stir in him.

“Harry, settle down, please, let’s just talk.” Y/N tried carefully, with a gentle tone. She knew that Harry’s baby anxiety had been hitting him hard. Although they both expected to feel some anxiety around their new life as parents, Harry’s been off the charts in the past few days. He looked livid, dark circles under his eyes and some spit up on his ripped Pink Floyd t-shirt.

“No, I will not back down on this, because you obviously don’t understand.” He said, now pacing around between the sofa and their living room windows. That was the final straw for Y/N. She had been understanding, gentle, and comforting with him although she was also feeling all of these new feelings surrounding their baby, plus she had just given birth. She was tired, and she was sore. Y/N stood up with a blank expression, facing him. “I would think very carefully of how you speak to me, don’t act like I’m clueless. Talk to me about what you’re feeling instead of speaking in code. Cause I’m not buying it, I will not allow you to talk to me like that.” She said harshly, a wrinkle between her brows and eyes glazing over. Harry’s face softened for a moment, before hardening up again. “I’m going to have a shower, and you’re going to call your mother and tell her we’re not coming.” Y/N continued, walking towards the stairs, in direction of their bathroom.

She honestly couldn’t tell if she was sad or angry; if she was hurt or offended. But she got in the shower anyway, trying to think of anything, anything but Harry being that angry with her. She just wished that she knew what was going on in Harry’s head.

Harry could feel the anxiety rising in his chest. A nauseous, tight feeling climing up his throat. He knew he messed up the second he saw her eyes become teary. He wasn’t really angry, not at all, and especially not with Y/N. He needed her more than ever, and she, him. However, with all these new feelings, and trying to take care of Elida; constant nappy changes, tummy massages, lullabies and changing of clothes, - he felt himself slipping. All the anxiety he was feeling just came out as anger, and Y/N shouldn’t have to take the heat of it.

The thing is, he is constantly worried for Elida. Has she gotten enough milk? Is she comfortable? Too hot? Too cold? Is her tummy aching? Is she breathing alright?

Harry had spent most of Y/N’s pregnancy on family forums and reading parenting books, trying to learn anything and everything. At the end, it all got too overwhelming, hearing scary stories from other parents of what not to do, and in result, he could barely put Elida down in another room without his head spinning with anxiety.

It was hard. Harry had experienced his fair share of anxiety earlier in his life, but never like what he was feeling right now, having another little soul to love and protect.

Immediately when Y/N had left for her shower, it was like he snapped out of the haze, and all came crashing down. He really needed to talk to her before he completely fell apart.

Harry went after Y/N, up the stairs as he heard her turn the shower on. Elida was sleeping heavy in his arms and against his own will and father-instinct he gently put her down in her little bed-side crib on Y/N’s side of the bed. He brought the monitor next to her and took his phone out so he could keep an eye on her, and went after Y/N. He would be just 6 metres away from her, and keeping an eye on her constantly. It would be okay, he told himself as he put the phone monitor next to the sink and started to strip out of his clothing. Y/N barely glanced at him when he got in, not saying a word. The ball was in his court, he was the asshole this time around, she figured. “I’m sorry, pet, I shouldn’t have taken that tone with you.” Harry tried, as he came up behind her, placing his calloused, shaky hands on her hips. “No, you shouldn’t have.” She replied quietly. It wasn’t that she was trying to act pissed, it was just that she wanted him to take action. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you, about how it’s been the past week, it’s been hard, and I know I haven’t made it easier for you.” Harry continued, gently leaning his forehead to the back of her head. That struck an icy pain through Y/N’s heart. He had made it so much better, and she let him know. “Hey,” Y/N said as she turned around in his embrace. “You have been making it easier for all of us, I know it’s a hard transition, I just…I just want to know what’s going on with you, because you haven’t been yourself lately and it’s worrying me. All I’m asking is that you tell me how you’re doing.” Y/N raised both her arms, and put her hands in Harry’s curls, massaging the back of his head under the hot stream of water. Harry let out a big sigh, trying to relax. “I’ve just, I’ve been so anxious, all the time. I’m worried about her all the time and it’s eating me alive. And you’re the best mama, I’m never worried about her when she’s with you, it’s not that at all, it’s just that I can’t seem to stop worrying. She’s so tiny, and it scares me how far I’d go to know that she’s okay.” He let out, not looking in her eyes, almost like he was ashamed of admitting it. “You know what that tells me?” Y/N then said, and now Harry’s eyes met hers, curious, like a child about what she was going to say next. He shook his head quietly, nudging her to go on. “That you’re the best daddy out there. It’s your job to worry about her, yes, but we can’t possibly do everything. She’s safe with you, she’s safe with us, and we will know what’s best for her. I just think you need to go easy on yourself, tell me how you’re feeling, and we’ll figure it out. We’re a team, and I’m not going anywhere.” Y/N said to him, slowly and with intent, to really make sure that her words got to him.

“Y-Yeah.” Harry replied. “I’m sorry, it’s just overwhelming. I know it’ll get better soon, but she’s just so little I don’t know how-“He interrupted himself, sobs crawling up his throat, his head landing on Y/N’s shoulder. He felt completely vulnerable and safe with her. And for a moment, he thought that he wouldn’t want to do this with another person on the planet.

A few hours later in the day, Y/N got some energy back in her system. The days felt all jumbled together, and the parents could barely tell day from night between the constant cycle of changing Elida, feeding her, naps and keeping her somewhat entertained in her awake window.

Y/N decided that she was going to do some baking, maybe some bread to bring to Anne’s the next day. Harry was laying flat on the couch, having some skin to skin with Elida as she was drooling on his chest, producing those sweet baby noises that Harry loved. He could look at Elida for days, just in awe of what him and the love of his life had created together. She was perfect. Harry could almost feel himself dose off on the sofa, to the soft sound of Y/N’s music coming from the kitchen. He was sure he was in heaven right now.

“Tesoro?” Y/N called to him from the kitchen with a gentle voice, snapping him out of his daydream. “Yes, m’love?” He replied, not letting his gaze drift from Elidas little face. “Do you think your mom would prefer focaccia or baguettes?” Harry’s blood turned cold at the reminder of them going to see his family. They hadn’t really talked about the fact if they were going or not, just why he was feeling the way that he was. The issue now is that he still didn’t want to go, his intuition still telling him that it was too soon. He knows he couldn’t turn to anger like he did last time, so he had to try and be more diplomatic, even though all he wanted was to hide Elida away for another month at least.

“Darling, like i said earlier, I’m not sure we should, can’t we just wait like another week? I feel like it’s all wrong exposing her to new people this early.” Harry said, craning his neck to see Y/N stood leaning against the doorpost to the kitchen. Her face unreadable, straight, as she calmly said, “Call your mom.” Before pushing of the doorframe and continuing her mission in the kitchen. Harry sighed, what was he even supposed to say his own mom whom he didn’t want to see right now? Harry got up from the sofa, stepping into their bedroom and putting the awake Elida on the bed in front of him, pulling his phone out to call his mother.

Let’s just say that Anne put some sense into him. He told her about how hard it had been, how the new parent anxiety was eating him alive, and she understood, of course she did. He should’ve called her earlier. They had come to a compromise that it was just going to be Anne and Gemma, no other friends or family, and that if the new parents didn’t feel comfortable yet, Gemma and Anne would have to be satisfied with just admiring new addition to the family from afar, not yet holding her. That felt okay for Harry, that meant that he and Y/N still had some control over the situation. Harry gulped, once again picking up Elida. “C’mere my little love.” He whispered happily to her, putting her in a sling on his chest. Wrapping her up safely, making sure to tie an extra knot so that she would stay put. Elida let out a big yawn as she settled against Harry’s warm, safe chest. Harry’s lips just about reaching her soft head if he leaned down slightly. Harry felt like a weight had been lifted from his chest after the conversation with Anne. Harry took a deep breath as he ascended the stairs down to their kitchen, hand spreading over Elidas small back to keep him grounded. Y/N turned around and looked at him with expectation in her eyes, a slight, gentle smile on her face. “I talked to mum, we came to a compromise, so…” Harry breathed out. “It’ll be okay, yeah? I’m sorry I’ve been stressing about everything; I feel like I’m going insane sometimes.” He continues. Y/N walked up to Harry, sandwiching Elida between them. Y/N leaned down to out a kiss on Elidas head, and then one on Harry’s lips. “You’re not insane. You’re a good father, I told you earlier. I’m convinced it’ll be okay. What did your mum say?” Y/N reassured him, taking his hand and pulling him over to their dining table to sit down.

Being parent to a newborn is never easy, and nobody has ever claimed it to be. Harry, however, was a natural. And it may have something to do with all those books and forums he consumed during Y/N’s pregnancy, but some things seemed to just come naturally to him, while Y/N sometimes stood on the sidelines, not sure what to do. Harry truly is her rock, and she is his.

They spoke that evening about the next day, dread and excitement filling them at the same time. The couple wanted to have some boundaries, even for family. It made them feel safe, and feeling safe and being careful put their minds at ease while trying to figure things out.

Harry’s eyes were focused on the road with an icy grip on the steering wheel. He was a safe driver before having Elida, but now he was extra safe, not making a single risky turn or change of lane as they made their way to Manchester. Y/N was in the back, strapped in the middle seat, so she could be next to Elida.

They had found out day 2 with Elida that she loved car rides. She would instantly calm down when they drove off from the hospital, despite being uncomfortable in her car seat. They figured it was the whooshing-sound of the wind against the car, and decided there and then to invest in a white noise machine for her.

Y/N looked at Harry through the mirror. He had that little worry-wrinkle between his eyebrows as he focused on the road. Sometimes he’d glance at the pair in the back and his gaze would soften. This time he made eye contact with Y/N. “Penny for your thoughts?” Y/N said to him, leaning forward, her cheek against his bicep as he leaned into her touch slightly. “I’m excited to show her off. But I’m nervous about mum and Gemma not respecting our boundaries.” Harry could feel her nod against his arm, placing a soft kiss where her cheek was as she leaned back in her seat. “I know it’s nervous, but you were really brave telling your mum yesterday about your worries, and I’m sure she’ll respect them, she’s a parent too, you know. And if they don’t remember, we’ll remind them. It’ll be alright.” She said calmly, looking at him though the mirror of the car. Harry hadn’t even thought about that before. His mum is his mum. She was also a new parent once, she’s gone through this exact thing, twice actually. Just the thought of that made Harry feel instantly calmer. “And how are you feeling, lover?” Harry bounced back. Y/N thought for a second, glancing over at Elida and then to Harry. “I’m so proud I could burst. We’ve made a perfect little girl, and I can’t wait to show her off. And I can’t wait to show off my more than capable baby-daddy.” She laughed and squeezed his bicep jokingly. Harry chuckled, nodded. “I’m so proud, too.”

Harry let out a sigh of relief as he parked in his mum’s driveway. They had made it there safe and sound, and with only one pitstop to get some air and a coffee. They had barely opened the door of the car as Anne came towards them on the driveway. “My loves, oh my goodness.” Her eyes were filled with happy tears, taking Y/N instantly in her arms and hugging her tight. “Darling! How are you, are you recovering well? You look stunning, Ah I can’t believe you’re here.” She blabbered as Y/N lightly laughed at her erratic behaviour. “I’m well, Anne, it’s been a lot, but Harry’s been taking care of me.” And at the mention of Harry’s name, Anne turned to him, and with wide stretched arms embraced her son. “Hi mum” Harry said quietly into her hair. Y/N knew he had missed her, he was such a mummy’s boy. “My son, who’s now a father of a little girl. I can’t believe it.” Anne continued, with Harry’s face in her hands, pinching his cheeks and putting his wild hair back in place.

You could tell that Harry was gleaming with pride, constantly between laughter and tears at the rush of emotions. He could barely imagine her reaction when she’d get a look at his daughter.

Harry could see Y/N on the other side of the car, just about to grab the car seat, as he rushed to her side. “Careful, lover, you’re not supposed to carry too heavy, I’ve got her.” He said in a quiet voice, a comforting hand on the small of Y/N’s back. Y/N nodded, instead grabbing the diaper bag from the trunk.

Anne rounded the car after them, looking for the little face buried in the blanket of the car seat. As soon as Anne caught a glimpse of Elida, she gasped. She had seen plenty of pictures, of course, and she’s seen her though facetime, but seeing her grandchild for the first time in front of her made the tears fall from her eyes. She put a hand over her heart. “Oh my goodness, she’s precious. She’s even smaller than I imagined!” Harry held the car seat in front of his mother with a puff of pride in his chest, the anxiety has since long left his body, and Anne seemed to keep her distance, as they’d wished. “Alright mum, let’s head inside, yeah? No crying in the streets.”

Harry was light on his feet as they stepped inside, it was always nice to be home, Anne’s house always warm and welcoming. Elida was starting to move and making unhappy little noises to alert her parents to her discomfort. Harry and Y/N looked at each other. “I’ll take her, H, she probably needs a good feeding as well, go sit down with your mum.” Y/N stepped forward to fish Elida out of her seat. She cooed at her little baby, body scrunching together as she picked her up, then stepped away for a moment to change Elida.

Gemma was supposed to arrive in a little while, so they had some time, just the three of them in the lounge. Harry and Y/N sat next to each other, as Elida was being fed. Anne was on a sofa opposite them. Harry and Y/N could tell Anne was bubbling to get talking, barely being able to keep her eyes off Elida as she fed from Y/N. They had been in constant contact since the birth, but Anne didn’t want to miss a thing; it was her first grandchild after all. Harry felt calm in this setting, with his little family just beside him. The time felt like thick jelly, comforting and warm. He could stay here for a long, long time. Conversation was flowing between new parent struggles, trying to fit in a meal or a nap wherever they could, to laughing about little outfits they wanted to put Elida in when she’s a little older. Elida was now napping in Y/N’s arms, belly full of milk, satisfied little sounds coming through her little mouth.

Then Gemma stormed in through the door. They could hear her throwing her clothes off in the entryway and almost jogging to reach them in the lounge. As Gemma caught sight of them her eyes filled with tears, her hands over her mouth. She hadn’t said a thing yet, as Harry stood up and walked over to her. “Hey Gem.” He said, trying to comfort her tears. “My little brother is a dad.” Was all she could get out, embracing him in a hard hug. Harry laughed, a faint blush on his cheeks. It was still so strange when they said it like that, it would take some getting used to.

Gemma moved past Harry to get to Y/N and Elida. Harry motioned for Y/N to transfer Elida to his arms, so that she could greet Gemma. And Gemma basically threw herself over Y/N. They had become close almost immediately when Harry and Y/N had started seeing each other, like they were lost sisters from another universe. “I’m so proud of you. Are you doing okay, is Harry helping at all? I’ll be sure to give him a whooping if he doesn’t, you just let me know.” Gemma said, still tearful about the fact that two of her favourite people just had a baby together. “Gem, don’t worry. It’s been a lot, I’m so tired I could pass out but I’m so happy, and Harry’s been an angel. But it’s good to know that you’ve got my back.” Y/N laughed brightly, rubbing Gemma’s shoulders in comfort, in hopes that the tears would stop.

Harry suddenly felt brave, he sat down directly next to his mother, putting his knees up so Elida could rest against them. “Come sit down, Gem.” Harry smiled to his sister. Gemma sat down next to her brother, and all three of them looked down at the sleeping baby in Harry’s lap. Admiring her little nose that looked just like Harry’s when he was a newborn, the light dusting of hair on the top of her head, and how her little chest moved quickly with her little breaths. “She’s so small.” Gemma said, almost whisper quiet, as to not alert the sleeping baby. “Yeah.” Harry replied mindlessly, still gazing at Elida. “C-can I touch her?” Gemma almost whispered. Harry looked at Y/N for a second, who was nodding at him. “Y-yeah, just wash your hands first, and no kisses on the face, please.” Harry answered. Anne and Gemma almost threw themselves off the sofa and sprinted to the nearest sink to wash their hands.

“Tesoro.” Y/N said, when Anne and Gemma had left the room. Harry looked up at her. He looked so good, she thought. Even with hair unkempt and tired bags under his eyes. His face was clean shaven and soft, for the sole reason of not upsetting Elidas sensitive babyskin. Damn, she thought, she knew he’d let the mustache grow out otherwise, and she loved it when he did that. “Do you feel alright?” Y/N continued. Harry just nodded, a smile spreading on his face. He felt better than he thought. This all felt like a dream.

Anne and Gemma came back and settled down, one on either side of Harry, as they gently reached out to stroke the baby’s soft head and grabbing her tiny, clenched hands. Y/N pulled out her phone, having to snap a few pictures of this special moment of their family. All three of them smiling and looking down at the sleepy baby. It was the start to something new, a new generation, filling all of their lives with happy laughter, endless diaper changes, tiny shoes and most importantly; love.

The room was thick with emotion, and Y/N looked at the family opposite her, almost not being able to keep her tears at bay, just seeing them together with Elida.

Gemma looked up at Y/N, and reaching her arm out for her in a quiet attempt to get her to join them on the sofa. Y/N rose from the opposite sofa, trailing over to them and sitting down next to Gemma. “She’s like a little doll, I can’t believe she’s here.” Gemma said, as if still in disbelief about the whole situation. “You have no idea how hard it’s been not to storm over to your house and see you, I’ve been worried.” She continued. Harry and Y/N shared a thankful look, knowing that in the midst of the chaos of being new parents, the last thing they wanted was a visitor. “We’ve been doing our best to settle in and enjoy the first week of just the three of us together. I just…I know you wanted to see her and us earlier but at the time it was just another stressor to all of this. It’s got nothing to do with you or mum, it’s just our decision, and we’re really thankful you respected our boundaries when we put them down. It’s a special time and we don’t want to miss a single thing, but she’ll be here for the rest of time so you’ll get to spend time with her until you’re sick of her, don’t worry.” Harry gently explained to his mother and sister. They just smiled to him, giving him a soft squeeze to assure him that they knew. “I know it’s a special time, darlings. I know that after I had you, Gemma, me and Des just wanted to be alone, but people kept dropping by and expecting us to take care of them too, on top of our new baby! It made everything a bit harder, even though I know they meant well.” Anne reminisced.

Y/N could physically see Harry’s shoulders loosen up and relax. She could tell his breathing wasn’t constantly in his throat as it had been the past few days at the mention of leaving their baby bubble. He looked relaxed, like he belonged.

Y/N remembered an evening Y/N and Harry had shared just in the beginning of her pregnancy, where they had felt high on serotonin and adrenaline just thinking about the tiny sprout in Y/N’s belly.

“It just feels like full circle in some way, having our own child. I know mum’s been harassing us about having one, but still I don’t think she’ll fully believe us when we tell her.” Harry said into the night. It was dark out, it had to have been hours since they had retreated to bed. Y/N was laying on Harry’s chest, her nose finding his pulse point, and leg thrown over his hip, close, as close as they could get without crawling inside each other’s skin. Y/N smiled at Harry’s words. “Imagine when we get to show them off for the first time, for our family, our friends. I just know it’s going to be perfect. I feel like that’s one of those situations I’ve been dreaming about ever since knowing I wanted a kid.” Y/N replied lightly. She could tell Harry’s heart was racing, she could hear it through his chest. It was quiet for a moment, Y/N could feel her eyes droop and getting heavier in the arms of her lover. Suddenly Harry spoke up. “What do you think of Rose? Elisabeth Rose?” Y/N’s eyes shot open, removing herself from his neck, looking at him with squinty eyes. “Veto. They’re not a character in pride and prejudice, Tesoro.” Harry chuckled. “I like Samuel. Or Logan, Esther, maybe Levi.” She suggested. “Mhm, I like them…but maybe we’ll have to do some more scouting though.” Harry sounded almost sarcastic, and a flat palm was thrown against his chest. “Ow!” Harry whisper shouted. “Be nice. I’m the pregnant one, I think I have a pretty big say in what name they’ll be getting.” Harry grabbed onto her, shifting them around in the bed so that his arms were completely encapsulating Y/N’s frame. “You’re right, you let me put a baby in you, yeah? And I seem to recall you asking for at least a few more after this one.” He said, placing wet kisses on Y/N’s face; on her cheeks, the side of her mouth, her jaw. “Hmm…” Y/N let out, melting into his hold and his soft kisses. “I love you; I love you for doing this for us, I love you.” Harry sincerely let out, lips grazing hers. “I love you.” Y/N whispered back, sleep catching up to her, safe and warm in her lover’s arms.

And as Harry sat there on the sofa, right beside Elida, Y/N, Gemma and Anne, thinking about all that was, and all that has become, he came to realize that this was his reality. His own little child with the person he loved more than anything on this earth. A whole family circle that showed support, love and respect through thick and thin. Harry had never been more thankful for his life, and the thought of this being his forever made him giddy to get started living the rest of their life. Yeah, he would manage just fine – as long as he had them.

[drewsbuzzcut]

Daddy’s Home

mat barzal x model!fem!reader

a visceral in doses fic

warnings: mentions teething

Sloane was not having it. None of it. She’s been going through some teething recently, plus her daddy has been on a roadie, so she’s just not a happy baby. Understandably so. You’ve tried your hardest to soothe her- FaceTiming Mat at night and in the morning, and holding her every second you could. It’s been a struggle especially with your two hyper sons.

“Mat, she is not doing too hot. She has a fever and she’s crying every 30 minutes. The boys are thankfully sane today, but I just need you here, we need you here,” you sigh into the phone.

If it were up to Mat, you’d be on FaceTime. However, you don’t want him to see how downtrodden and exhausted you are.

“I can book a flight right now. Just say the word. You know what? No, I’m booking the flight. I should be home in 4-ish hours,” Mat states, the sound of him getting up and the ruffling of his clothes reach your ears.

“No. Mat, just stay where you are. I can hold down the fort one more day. You come home tomorrow night anyways. Sorry for calling just to complain. Sloane is asleep for the moment and I just needed to hear your voice for a minute,” you whisper to mask the way your heart twists at the thought of him being gone for a second longer.

“Baby, I can come home. No game is more important than the loves of my life. I love you, pretty girl. You’re doing amazing,” he reassures you and you just about break into sobs.

“I love you. Stay with the team. I can handle one more day. I can’t wait to see you,” you let out a sigh, completely laying down in your bed that’s too big without Mat next to you.

“I miss you. I really want to kiss you and hold you. I miss the kids, too,” Mat tells you and you close your eyes to stop your tears from falling.

“We miss you and love you so much. I’ll give them kisses for you when we hang up.”

“Okay, baby. I’m going to go. Do you need anything before I hang up?”

“No. Have a goodnight. I love you.”

“I love you. Goodnight,” Mat says before hanging up.

You let out a deep exhale of air, clenching your eyes shut because you refuse to cry. You force yourself off the bed, keeping good on your promise of kissing all your babies for Mat. It’s already 9 at night, so they’re tucked in but you give them their kiss and rub your fingers through their soft hair. As for Sloane, you bring her into your arms so you can take her to your bed. Her fever has been up and down, so you just want her close.

About 3 hours later you hear your front door open and close with a faint slam which wakes up Sloane. Now you’re frazzled and a little scared while Sloane’s cry rings in your ears. As you’re about to get up, your bedroom door opens and walks in your husband.

He makes a beeline straight for you, guiding you to stand up so he can bring you into his arms. You hold him tight, breathing in his scent that you missed so much. You can’t help but let out a tear or two.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, pulling away but still holding onto him.

“You’re more important, always. It’s one game anyways. Why is Sloane awake?”

You give him a slight wince and let him know the sound of him coming in is what woke her up. He immediately apologizes, but truth be told, anything would wake up your baby girl right now.

You give him time to shower before you drag him into your bedroom, but he also makes sure to go into the boys’ rooms- simply just to watch them sleep for a little bit.

When he walks back into your room, Sloane is immediately reaching out for him. Her eyes are teary and her lips wrinkle in a little pout similar to all your barzal boys.

“My sweet girl. Daddy is here, my love,” Mat cuddles her into his chest and whispers softly in her ear.

Her little hands clutch onto strands of his hair as she shoves her head in the crook of his neck. She’s content against the warmth of his bare chest. Mat lets out a sigh of relief, he’s happy to be home.

“She’s been having a really hard week. Those teeth coming in are not treating her well. She’s had a fever the last two days, but it hasn’t been anything crazy. She’s more uncomfortable than in pain. She missed daddy,” you say, one hand caressing Sloane while your other cards through your husband’s hair.

“I know you told me to stay, but I’m glad I came home. I missed all of you and I know she’s been extra clingy to me lately. It’s not fair to you,” Mat wraps an arm around your waist, needing his other girl pressed against him.

“It’s not like I don’t know how it is. I know your job is demanding, and we’ve made a pretty solid routine. Remember, life isn’t fair. I am thankful you’re here right now, though,” you peck his lips.

“I love you, baby,” Mat says into your kiss.

“I love you, always.”

“Ow shit!” Mat yelps, eyes bugging out at Sloane who has her mouth attached to his shoulder. Her tiny front tooth coming in nips at her daddy’s skin.

“Welcome to my world. Breastfeeding has been a terror lately,” you snigger behind your hand.

Sloane lets out a little baby giggle and it makes both of you laugh in return.

“Do you like biting daddy? He’s yummy, huh? Bite him some more,” you coo to your baby girl.

“I’ve had enough biting from you, I don’t need anymore from my own daughter,” Mat pouts.

That pout. It always gets to you.

“Do you need me to kiss it better?” You tease, guiding him to your bed.

You want him to pound you into your bed, but because Sloane is cranky without her daddy holding her, you know that won’t be happening.

“Maybe.”

“Come here, my baby,” you get into bed, letting Mat snuggle into you while he still holds Sloane.

She immediately falls asleep and Mat isn’t far behind.

a/n: Enjoy!

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️⛅️

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲🌲

🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️🧜‍♂️

Oh hell yeah! 42 for ⛅️

---

Except, wait… What if they’re stuck here? Eddie is straight. He might want to not remain married to Buck. He might… Maybe he would want a divorce. Oh god. That would be terrible. Absolutely terrible. Tommy dumping him and then Eddie divorcing him? How can he already have a worse track record with men than with women! Women had a significant head start! 

“Right?” He asks Eddie. “We’re not, right?”

“No!” Eddie answers, outraged like the question is ridiculous. “I would never divorce you!”

Okay, Mr. I’m Straight How Would We Even Have Sex. It wasn’t a silly question! 

“Okay, well something is going on!” Chris insists. “You both cried when you saw me. You’ve hardly touched each other all night. You’re usually disgusting. You forgot Nico’s allergies, like you’re too distracted or something. What is going on?” 

Buck and Eddie exchange an uncomfortable glance. 

“Uh… I’m just… Not feeling well?” Buck tries. 

“You’re sick?” Chris asks. “Oh my god, are you dying? Buck…”

“No!” Buck exclaims. “I’m not dying, Chris.”

“Then what?” Chris demands. 

“We’re really okay,” Eddie promises. “You don’t need to worry about it, bud.”

---

42 for ⚡️

---

“You’re gonna need it.”

Buck sighs. He knows Bobby is right. He should probably be trying to bank sleep instead of stress. 

“It all just feels out of my control, you know?” Buck says. “Like if something goes wrong at this point, what can I do?”

“Nothing,” Bobby says. “There’s nothing.”

“See? That sucks!”

Bobby smiles. “That’s parenthood, though. That’s just… How a lot of it is.”

Buck nods. He knows that. Conceptually, he knows that. He just doesn’t like feeling it. He likes being able to do something. Manage potential problems. Be the solution. And as much as he knows that a baby a day overdue is not actually a problem, it just feels like the beginning of that anxious feeling he can’t do anything to solve. 

“Things are going to happen that you have no control over,” Bobby says. “Lots of them. And things will happen that you do have control over that you get wrong. But what’s important is how you respond to that.”

Buck nods. “Who’s to say I won’t panic about that, too?”

“You will,” Bobby chuckles. “But it’s okay. Because, at the end of the day, I think you’ll always do right by her.”

Buck takes a deep breath. “Thanks, Bobby.”

“Of course,” Bobby replies. “You know… When Brooke was five - right after she started school - there was a school bus accident. One of the buses headed towards hers and Bobby Jr.’s school. While I was on shift.”

“Were they on it?�� Buck asks. 

“No,” Bobby shakes his head. 

---

42 for 🌲

---

“So, then, like… Genetics makes sense, right? Unless there’s another comic-esque origin,” Buck says. 

Eddie wrinkles his nose.

“Do you think I could have secret magic genes?” Buck continues. “My parents have English ancestry. What could that be?”

Eddie frowns. “Careful. A rabbit tempting enough runs by you and you might turn into a whippet.”

Buck smirks. “Aw, but you’d take care of me right? Put me in one of those little turtlenecks?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but finds that he’s smiling, too. How can Buck make him smile, even now?

“You know… A whippet’s life might be nice. Running really fast. Not a lot of problems. Soft turtlenecks. Presumably better-than-human hearing.”

Eddie tilts his head a little, taking Buck in. There’s a hint of sadness there. Well… Of course there is. This whole time they’ve been focused entirely on Eddie. But Buck’s been going through a lot, too. 

“Hey, uh,” Eddie says. “How are you holding in? With everything that’s happened…”

Buck blinks. “Uh… Fine, Eddie. I’m fine.”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. That just confirmed the opposite.

“Buck.” 

“Really!” Buck insists.

“Oh, come on,” Eddie chides. “Between the fitting and Tommy, you’ve gotta be stressed.” 

---

42 for 🧜‍♂️

---

 He can’t be honest. He’s landed on, it’s just Chris and I or he doesn’t have a mother in his life. This usually shuts down the conversation for anyone with the social skills to realize he doesn’t want to talk about it. Which, fortunately, is most people. But there’s always the odd one. Did she leave you? Is she dead? It’s awkward and uncomfortable and Eddie hates it.

So when he makes the decision to tell Buck about Chris, on the day of the earthquake, it’s maybe sort of a test. Which is unfair of him, he knows. But, underneath his layers of anxiety in trying to contact his son, there’s a need to know. How will Buck react? Will he see Eddie the way Eddie has seen him? Will he ask the wrong questions? The right, discrete ones? Eddie isn’t sure. And maybe the way Buck reacts will… Give Eddie a hint? As to whether or not his suspicions are accurate? 

Buck’s response is great, but unhelpful. He beams, says he loves kids, and calls the photo of Christopher adorable. Well, yes! Christopher is adorable. Cutest kid ever, thank you very much. Said with no bias. He also doesn’t ask any questions about Christopher’s mother. So kind of a great response on all fronts. But not a conclusive one. 

Eddie feels stupid. What was Buck going to do? Start discussing trans parenthood in the back of the fire engine? No. Obviously fucking not. If he was out, he’d be out. And if he’s trans and suspects Eddie, he wouldn’t out Eddie either. Damn it. 

But the whole experience does teach Eddie something about Buck. When he decides he’s friends with you, he’s a damn good friend. Like, thoughtful and strikingly sincere. He spends the whole day supplying Eddie with earthquake facts. Reassuring him about Christopher’s safety. Keeping an eye on the cell service to see if Eddie can call Christopher’s school. 

[tobesolonely]

Y/N and Harry are expecting a baby, and they’re both very impatient.

happy 5k to meee! when I made this account at the height of the pandemic in 2020 to pass the time i would’ve never thought i would’ve made the friends i have or gotten so much support with my writing!! thank you besties! i hope you enjoy! 

warnings: smut

please buy me a coffee to celebrate! :D

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

“I just don't think we need three different kinds of bottle warmers, love.” 

Y/N looks at her husband looking down at the half-full cart that’s now one bottle warmer fuller. According to every baby blog and “new mom” website she scoured, bottle warmers were a must-have. However, there was no general consensus on the best one. Y/N didn't really see any other option but to try a ton. (Besides, it's not like he couldn’t afford it.)

“Then tell me which one’s the best.” 

Harry's eyebrows wrinkle in confusion. “How would I know which bottle warmer is the best?” 

“How would I know?” 

He opens his mouth to quip back but can't think of anything to say because once again she's right. How would she know?

“Ok, darling,” he resumes pushing the cart through the aisle with a defeated sigh. “You're right.”

A credit card swipe and a short 15-minute car ride later they’re home, depositing all their recent purchases in the half-complete nursery. It was nearly stuffed to the brim with clothes and instructions for toys Harry began assembling but never completed and baby wipes and strollers and now, three different types of bottle warmers that it was a little overwhelming. The good kind, though. 

By the time they finish that, they’re knackered, sprawled out on the couch with the tv playing lowly in the background.

“How does stir fry sound for dinner?” Harry absentmindedly traces over her plush thighs with the pads of his fingers while he seeks her approval. “I don’t think those bell peppers in the fridge have got much longer.”

“Mmm, sounds good,” she cranes her neck up to look at him, not wanting to leave her position on his chest. “Not too spicy, please. I can’t handle it right now.”

“I know, love.”

Y/N knows Harry knows, but she still reminds him anyway. He gently helps her up and guides her to the kitchen, lifting her up on the counter so she could cut up the vegetables while he stood at the stove and cooked the chicken. He’s about to sprinkle a generous amount of red pepper flakes atop the chicken when he remembers her polite request that he doesn't make it too spicy and he sets it down, deciding he’ll add it to his own portion separately.

“I think these are all chopped up.” 

Harry hums and walks over to where Y/N is positioned on the counter to inspect her handy work. Most everything she knows in the kitchen she learned from Harry, and he definitely still teases her about her skills with a knife. At least she tries! 

While the look on Harry’s face tells her he thinks her chopping skills look like that of a ten-year-old, all he says is, “Looks great, darling! You’re so helpful.” (The pregnancy has made Y/N more sensitive than usual and Harry knows she's liable to cry over the tiniest things so he’s been extra sweet to her)

With the chicken now simmering on low, Harry adds the vegetables to the dish and adds a bit of water to help soften it faster, making sure to add a generous amount of seasoning. Y/N appreciated this because she wasn't the biggest fan of vegetables (especially peas and broccoli, which Harry coincidentally loved) so whatever he did to make them even the tiniest bit tastier was helpful.

Twenty minutes later they're enjoying dinner, bowls filled with heaping piles of steaming rice and chicken-veggie stir-fry. Harry stands in between Y/N's legs while she’s sitting on the counter (occasionally giving her bites of his food even though they’re eating the exact same thing).

“Who taught you how to be such a good cook?” Y/N randomly questions in between a mouthful of food. She knows the answer is Anne, but she just likes stroking Harry’s ego sometimes.

“My mum,” he answers. “And lots of practice. I could teach you…”

“I’d rather not.” 

Harry chuckles at his wife’s hatred for cooking. “Luckily for you, it brings me great pleasure to cook for beautiful women,” Y/N narrows her eyes at him, “I mean you. My beautiful woman. Don't give me that look.”

“Are you gonna make baby food from scratch, too?”

Harry raises his eyebrows in consideration, pressing a quick kiss to the tip of Y/N’s nose. “There’s a thought… hadn’t even thought about that. I can do that.”

“I mean, you did say you love cooking for beautiful women.”

“I do,” Harry smiles at his wife for a few moments before the look on his face changes to one of accusation. “Are you trying to tell me something? Did you look?”

“Okay listen, I may have taken a tiny peek at the monitor when we were at the check-up on Tuesday…”

“Y/N!”

“I couldn’t help myself, Harry! I don’t know how you haven’t been going crazy over it,” she absentmindedly rests her hand on her stomach. “If I didn’t know I’d probably be so annoying right now.”

“That’s true. I’m sure you would be.”

Y/N playfully reprimands Harry by swatting his bicep. “You love how annoying I am. It’s why you married me. You said it in your vows, remember? There’s no going back now.”

Harry kisses the side of Y/N’s neck, then travels up to the sweet spot right below her ear before moving to the apples of her cheeks and then finally, her soft lips. “I wouldn’t dream of going back on it. Tell me more about this baby girl we’re having, since you like to ruin surprises.”

“I can’t help my wandering eyes!”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Harry responds sarcastically. “Are we telling people?”

“I think it’ll be fun if we kept it our little secret,” she reaches up to play with the curls at the nape of Harry’s neck. “Maybe we’ll tell your mum and mine. We’ll see.”

“You’re right,” his hand travels up the back of Y/N's shirt. She shivers at the feeling of his cool rings against her warm back, “Instagram post instead?”

“Harry!”

“I’m joking, love!”

“Help me down from here. My butt’s numb.”

“Have you been thinking of names while you’ve gone all this time knowing without me?” Harry easily lifts her off the counter, not removing his hands from her waist even once she’s steady on her feet.

“H, it’s only been two days.” 

“Two days longer than I’ve known,” he bends down just enough to ghost his lips over yours. “Come sit on my lap. Let’s brainstorm.”

Harry gently guides her toward the direction of the living room, plopping down first on the couch so he could pull her into his lap. There was no other place Harry preferred Y/N to be than in his lap whenever he was around her. 

“Are you upset that I peeked when we were supposed to wait?”

His eyes soften. “Of course ‘m not mad. I guess since we’re being honest I may as well admit that I took a peek, too.”

“Harry! Why were you gonna let me think I was the only impatient one?”

“You’re just easy to mess with,” he pulls her flush against his body. “I was gonna see how long I could keep it up, but I can’t do it anymore. I feel too bad.”

“When did you peek?”

“Right after you did.”

Y/N lets out a dramatic gasp, cheeks heating up in embarrassment. “You saw me? I thought I was being sneaky!”

“I’m sorry to say you’re not as sneaky as you think you are,” he fiddles with the strap of her tank top, pushing it down her arm slowly. “I admire the effort though - it’s very cute, love.”

“Thank you,” Y/N cocks her head to the side. “Are you happy? That we’re having a girl?”

“Y/N, I’m so happy that I don’t think I can properly put into words how I’m feeling,” his hands travel along her back. “I’m even happier I’m having a baby with you. I don’t care about anything but having a healthy baby with you.”

“H, you’re gonna make me cry,” Y/N says dramatically, a small pout on her chapped lips. “You’re very cheesy - I love you so much. How did I get so lucky?”

“Would you believe me if I said I asked myself that same question every day when I wake up beside you?” Harry taps her on her side. “C’mon, up you go.”

Y/N lets out a little groan. “Why? I just got comfortable. Your lap is the best seat in the house.”

“Wanna show you how much I love you and how happy I am that you’re giving me a baby girl,” Y/N’s eyes widen as she scrambles off her husbands lap and onto the empty space beside him, legs folding beneath her. “Can I have a taste?”

“I thought we were discussing baby names?” Y/N jokes.

“I think we should do this first,” Harry drops to his knees, “Turn around f’me, darling- on your knees- yeah, just like that,” and immediately attaches his mouth to her clit, giving a firm suck. He quickly moves to her slit and licks up it, collecting her wetness on his tongue. Y/N can tell by his quick pace and sloppy licks that he's feeling plain desperate, and she momentarily wonders to herself how long he's been in this type of mood. 

Almost as if he's read her mind, Harry pulls back and says, “Been wanting to get in between these pretty thighs since we were comparing all those bloody bottle warmers at the store…” before diving back in. She turns to watch as he pokes and prods at her holes with the tip of his tongue, working faster the heavier she begins to breathe. His palm rests on her ass cheek, which also aids in keeping her spread open for him. Harry places three pecks on her clit before removing his mouth from her core just long enough to turn her around so her bottom was on the couch instead.

Harry hooks his right arm under Y/N’s left leg and throws it over his shoulder, using two fingers to rub over her clit. He lowers his head back down and attaches his lips to her bud again, looking up through his lashes at her. Y/N uses her shoulders to support her body weight, using one hand to lift her tank top and tweak her nipples while the other tangles in Harry’s curls. His tongue flicks back and forth over her clit as he locks eyes with her before sticking his middle finger in his mouth and inserting it in her heat.

“Harry, I love you,” Y/N tells her husband breathlessly, voice filled with lust. “I love you so much. I’m so- oh!” 

She lets out a sharp gasp once Harry adds two more fingers in one swift push, easily accommodating to fit his digits. His fingers burn in the best way possible, and she can’t wait to feel his cock. The whole time Harry’s fingering Y/N he’s giving her sweet praises–telling her she always opens up so well for him, that she get so fucking wet, that she tastes sweeter and better than the finest desserts. It’s nearly too much.

“I can’t put into words how much I love you,” Harry whispers as he relentlessly curls his three fingers up over and over again to stimulate that spongy spot deep inside of her. “I want you to cum for me, my love. Cum for me so I can get inside you, hm? Can you do that for me?”

Y/N’s mouth falls open in a silent scream as she releases all over Harry’s fingers, clenching so tightly around him that he has to tell her to relax so he can comfortably pull them out. 

“S’fuckin’ tight…” he mutters moreso to himself, pulling his joggers and boxers down to his ankles in one swift go. “All mine?”

“All yours,” she responds so quickly she nearly sounds pathetic. “Please, H. Just give it to me please-”

Harry pushes Y/N up and back onto the couch so her back is against the armrest. “Comfortable?”

Y/N’s heart swells a tiny bit at her husbands concern for her comfort even when he was having her in such a filthy state. “Very. Please fuck me.”

Harry slips himself inside Y/N’s warm heat, letting out a quiet groan of relief at the feeling. Y/N whimpers and locks her legs around Harry and he takes that as his cue to move. He slides out nearly all the way before slamming his hips back inside her, grunting loudy in pleasure.

“That’s a good girl…just take it, darling,” he snaps his hips quickly into her, skin slapping against skin. “Lay there and take it like a good girl…My good girl…”

Tiny moans esacpe Y/N’s mouth and she doesn’t try to suppress them in the slightest, wanting her husband to hear how good he was making her feel. He always made her feel good, always put her pleasure first.

“My clit, p-please,” Y/N stutters out, reaching for Harry’s hand so she can place it at her core. Harry places his hand at her core and begins rubbing in hard, tight circles, knowing exactly how to stroke Y/N to bring her to her release.

“Tell me how good it feels.”

“So, so good. Gonna cum, H,” Y/N moans, bucking her hips up so they meet Harry’s. “Don’t stop H, please don’t stop!”

“Yeah? You’re there, angel?” his thrusts become impossibly faster. “Me too, baby. You first. Cum for me, Y/N.”

Y/N orgasms for the second time that night, waves of pleasure washing over her body that satisfy her in the best way possible. Harry’s not far behind her - his hips stutter to a stop before he lays his weight on top of her and cums, being mindful not to lay directly atop her bump.

The couple lay in silence for what feels like ages, basking in the afterglow of their sex and orgasms. Harry places a chaste kiss to the top of Y/N’s head before gently untangling himself from her, already thinking about which bath bomb he wanted to use when he went upstairs to run her a bath in a moment. 

“So, about those baby names…”

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .

Please let me know what you think! and please buy me a coffee to celebrate! :D

[majestyeverlasting]

I'd Follow You Anywhere

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: Even when the world is falling a apart, it's not all bad all the time. Sometimes you stumble upon those lightening-in-a-bottle nights that make everything seem like it's going to be okay. Even with monumental changes looming on the horizon.

Word Count: 2.1k

A/N: TLOU has my heart right now, and I just really wanted to write something. I hope you guys enjoy! There's soft smut towards the end.

This piece contains 18+ content.

He should be asleep. All three of you should be. But he can’t remember the last time he’s felt this awake. The moon had long come out to brave the sky, a glowing beacon miles above a fallen world. Tonight, you’d managed to slip into one of those rare pockets in time where everything seemed less fractured and more whole.  

The classic rock song emitting from the record player has him tapping the beat onto his thigh like a man well practiced. Ellie watches his hand as her head rests on his shoulder, bruised knuckles and all. Another yawn creeps up on her and she stiffles it into his shirt. 

They’re sitting on the couch waiting for you. 

In the middle of trying to coax him up to dance, you remembered he hadn’t seen you in your new dress. Since he arrived home earlier that evening, the three of you had been caught up eating, laughing, and talking about other things that the dress had slipped your mind. Ms. Wright from across the hall had sewn it for you at a thank you.

She’d been living alone since her husband passed, and you always made a point to check in on her. Sometimes Ellie tagged along too, and enjoyed every second of eating soft mints and listening to the two of you share stories about better days. 

“Alright, I’m about to come out,” you announce. 

Joel startles when Ellie springs up off the couch and goes to stand behind it so she can cover his eyes. When you walk into the living room to the sight, he’s fighting a smile and losing. Ellie looks beyond proud of herself, and you can’t help but let out a laugh infused with nothing but fondness.  

“We’ve gotta do a reveal countdown,” she insists. 

Joel has no qualms with that. Your laughter is close and hers is even closer. It’s all he ever wanted these days. 

“Take it away.” You motion to her. 

“Okay. Three…two…one!” 

She keeps her hands over his eyes, however. Joel huffs in feigned annoyance.  

Having the one up on him was a luxury only the two of you got to experience. 

“You’re really missing out,” you tease. 

A squeak escapes Ellie when he gently grabs onto her wrists. “Okay, okay! Don’t break me.” 

Next thing he knows, he can see. It takes a couple blinks for his eyes to readjust. 

Heat blooms beneath his skin as he tries to determine where to settle his gaze. First it’s your chest and the way the fabric hugs it, then it’s the skin of your legs that remains uncovered beyond the flowy lower half that falls at your knees. 

But it’s your smile that does him in. He clears his throat and sits up a little straighter.  

“You’ve gotta give us a spin now,” Ellie insists.

Joel catches the shy way you wrinkle your nose, as if suddenly registering all the attention on you. 

“Just one, baby.” His drawl makes you give in. 

Upon making it back around, there’s an intensity to his gaze that wasn’t there before. 

“So?” You smooth your hands down the front. 

Pushing himself up, he saunters towards you with his broad shoulders moving in an all too familiar sway. His warm hands find your waist and run down the curve of your hips to admire your shape. He no later dips his head to give you a chaste kiss that leaves you looking up at him through your lashes. So little things made sense anymore, but your love for one another was among them. 

Ellie could see it. Feel it. The excess overflowed and was the very thing sustaining her. You two were her home, her light in formidable darkness. 

As she watches the two of you, an unfamiliar degree of gratefulness weighs down on her and tears gather at her waterline.

She quickly wipes her eyes, and slips out of the living room in case more threaten to spill over. In the hallway, she presses her back to the wall and sniffles quietly enough to assume no one heard. But you do. There’s a Polaroid photo of the three of you taped to the parallel wall. You’re all sitting on the back of the truck bed, and Joel’s in the middle looking famously unimpressed. The beginnings of a smile start on her face. 

An unspoken sense of understanding haloes the room when she walks back in. Joel extends an arm towards her as an invitation to come join your embrace. She accepts it as easy as breathing, nuzzling her face into his chest. 

With both of you in his arms and music still droning low, Joel closes his eyes through a brief exhale. This is everything he was ever afraid of. Not only having one person he’d lay down his life for, but two. It was the type of fear that ached and consumed, but pushed him through every waking second to fight against the odds and endure, survive. 

The type of fear that only existed in the presence of love. 

“I’ve got you two,” he promises. “Always will.”  

Two abrupt gunshots sound from outside. 

Faint apologies arise a heartbeat later, only to be met by someone barking to get back indoors. 

Those had been warning shots.

“Curfew breakers,” you murmur. 

It wasn’t an unusual occurrence, but Joel had grown uncharacteristically stiff. In fact, he’d been on edge all week when it came to patrol officers. 

Yesterday, a young officer approached you to compliment your contribution to the newest mural in the children’s center, and Joel had pulled you closer to his side without so much as thinking. It was as if he was anticipating punishment to befall the two of you for a reason unbeknownst to you. 

You hadn’t asked any questions then, but now your curiosity has been renewed. 

Rather than commenting on anything in front of Ellie, you settle on scratching his lower back in that comforting way he likes. If she notices, she doesn’t say anything. 

Instead, she glances towards the clock. “I didn’t realize it was almost midnight.” 

“Tired?” you ask. 

“A little. But I’m not gonna be the weak link by turning in first.”

“You’re already the weak link,” Joel says with no bite. 

Ellie’s mouth falls open as she pulls away in feigned offense. “I could be the strongest one here but we just don’t know it yet.” 

He can’t help but admire that spark within her. “You might be, kid.” He means it. 

She disappears to her room after a chorus of goodnights, leaving the two alone. 

Joel’s hands return to your waist, this time with a more charged sense of need. He leans in to kiss you, but you cup his cheeks to stop him, beard rough against your palms. 

“Hey,” you say. “Is everything okay? 

Something flickers across his expression, but disappears like a vapor. 

“Mhm.” A distracting buzz of electricity courses through you when he reaches around and gives your backside a firm knead. 

His voice is gruff when he speaks next. “So goddamn gorgeous.”

You try to muster the strength to ask if his previous answer was truthful, but his lips finally find yours and all you can think about is his scent, his warmth, the feel of him. He’s a walking incantation that has settled beneath your skin and taken your judgment captive. 

In a calculated motion, he breaks from the kiss and sweeps you up bridal style. The butterflies in your stomach grow in number as he carries you to your bedroom, shutting the door with his foot behind you. 

With your back flush against the mattress and legs hanging over the edge, you look up at him in a way that’s past innocent, face glowing in the dim light. Your smile is sweet as anything, and your dress has ridden high on your thighs. Joel studies you with a degree of restraint that makes him burn. 

His muscles stretch and ripple as he pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. He’s battered, bruised, hairy, and everything you want.

As if at an altar, he drops to his knees between your legs. It’s clear he’s not in the mood for chit-chat considering the immediate way he turns his face to kiss along the skin of your inner thighs. With a calloused hand, he pushes the dress up for more access and his index finger finds the cotton of your panties. 

He traces over the fabric, making note of every squirm and breath hitch. There’s nothing rushed about his movements and that makes you all the more sensitive. When you lift your hips, he understands you’re asking him to take off the one article keeping him from where you need him. 

The air of the room initially feels cool against your heat, but the warmth returns when he circles your clit and runs his fingers through your folds in a way that makes your thighs jump. 

He’s caught off guard when you reach down to push his hand away. 

“Can we fast forward?” you breathe. The sincerity of your tone makes him flush as stands back up to his full height. 

It felt good to be wanted. 

Before he has the chance to do it himself, you sit up and begin working on his belt, freeing it from the loops and letting it fall to the floor with a dull clink. Joel pulls his jeans and boxers down in one go, and you hurry to pull your dress over your head, repositioning yourself on the bed. The mattress dips as he crawls overtop of you, and he takes a moment to palm your breasts before aligning himself at your slick entrance. 

You reach up to smooth the furrow between his brows. “And you’re sure everything’s okay?” you ask. 

Rather than offering a proper answer, he eases himself into your warmth and you’re forced to welcome him with fluttering lashes and a heavy sigh of pleasure. He feels halfway guilty for deflecting yet again, but you feel so good around him that he’s able to get lost in you instead. His thrusts remain steady and deep so he feels every little detail there is to be felt. You hook your legs around the back of his thighs and grip his biceps so he has no choice but to stay close—as if there was anywhere else he was planning to go. When he feels you clench around him, he picks up the pace. 

“Oh, God, yes,” you breathe, closing your eyes. “Just like that.”

Pleasure swells within him like a wave awaiting the moment it can crash onto the shore. He bites back the groans that want to crawl up his throat because he can’t afford being too loud with paper thin walls. The way you look beneath him, all dazed and dreamy, makes it nearly impossible. He’s never met another person who makes him feel this turned on, this desired, this needed. 

You were as good as they came. Kind, and principled, and unbelievably selfless. Things were only getting worse in the QZ, and the thought of you—and Ellie, for that matter—falling victim to the immorality of a broken system was something he refused to see manifest. That’s why he had to get the two of you out of here. He already had it all planned out, but had yet to tell the two of you.  

That’s why he’d been so on edge.

“Joel,” you quietly praise, breath fanning over his lips. 

He hadn’t even realized he’d touched his forehead to yours. 

With immeasurable tenderness, he kisses you and reaches between your bodies to thumb at your clit just the way you like. 

You shudder beneath him and dig your nails into his skin, leaving behind crescent indents. A few breaths later, the world is fading in and out as you let go, pulsing around his length in strong waves. It takes so much out of you that your muscles have gone limp by the end. Joel finds his own release in the midst of it all and can’t stifle his low grunts in time. But he feels so high and out of his body that he doesn’t care. 

When his breathing begins to grow even, he pulls himself out of you and you whimper at the loss. The mattress squeaks as he falls onto the bed alongside you, your gazes remaining on each other. You blink dreamily while he barely blinks at all, afraid he’ll miss something. But you’re being more studious of him than he assumes. 

“Now will you talk?” You run a gentle hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp until he shivers. “There’s nowhere else to hide.” 

So he tells you about his plans, praying to God that you meant the words you’d spoken to him all those months ago. 

I’d follow you anywhere.

-

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[sequincult]

Return of the Floyd AU

(Floyd returns to join his brothers but only finds a teenage grey Branch, who is not too happy to see him.)

The years since Floyd left have not been easy on him. His solo career tanked, his boyfriend left after Floyd’s Brozone money dried up, and now he has nowhere to go. He spent years living in the woods, searching for wherever the Trolls ended up once they’d escaped the Bergens. After a very long time, he finally finds them. But not everything is how he’d imagined. He makes his way into the village, and asks for help from a very pink troll.

Floyd coyly walks up to her. “Hi, excuse me? Could you help me find someone?” 

“Oh hi there! I don’t think I’ve seen you around before?? Luckily for you I know just about everyone in this village!! Who are you looking for?”

Floyd’s eyes dart around, overwhelmed at her energy. “I’m uh looking for my brothers! They’re-”

 Suddenly a voice beckons from behind the trees.

“They’re not here.” A figure emerges. It’s Branch. Stood next to Poppy he may as well be in black and white. The only colour on his body being his jacket, a jacket Floyd immediately recognises as his own.

Poppy raises an eyebrow. “Oh just ignore him, he doesn-“

But before she can even finish, Floyd’s eyes light up. “Baby Branch!!”

He runs towards him, arms wide open for a hug, but stops in his tracks after noticing Branch’s appearance.

 “Wait, what happened to you? You look so dull, and your eyes are so…”

“So what? Wrinkled? Ugly? Grey? Hey, nice to see you too.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Sensing a moment of tension, Poppy interrupts. 

“Wait wait wait, branch! you have a brother?”

Branch frowns and shakes his head. “Hey can you stay out of this? It has nothing to do with you.”

“Oh ok. Right… I’ll go.”

Poppy sighs and leaves with her head held low.

After a deep breath, Branch continues.

“So Floyd, if you’re wondering why I look like this, maybe it’s because all of my brothers abandoned me. Maybe it’s because none of the other trolls understand. Not a single one of them know how it’s feels to be totally alone.”

“But, what about Grandma? I thought she’d take care of you. W-where is she?”

Branch shakes and grits his teeth.

“SHE DIED FLOYD”

His eyes shoot to the ground. His hands squeezed tightly.

“She died, and I was the only one who could have saved her… a-and I failed.”

Floyd takes a step back. He can struggles to breathe as he feels the weight of his mistakes filling his chest like lead.

“So you. Were alone.” 

Branch loses his temper, screaming as his tears poured down his face.

“OF COURSE I’D END UP ALONE. WHAT DID YOU THINK? SHE’D LIVE FOREVER?”

“I.. I…thought…”

Branch interrupts: “Whatever it is you thought was wrong. Why did you even come back anyway.”

 “I just wanted to see my brothers again and-”

“Well bad news. None of the others came back. It’s just me. And right now I’m really wishing you’d leave.”

“Branch please, I’m sorry just listen to me”

“Nope. I’m leaving you this time, and I’m going home. Don’t follow me unless you wanna die in a bear trap. Bye.” Branch turns his back and hastily stomps away.

Floyd curls up on the ground, alone. Thousands of thoughts are racing through his mind. How could this have happened? He’d never seen a troll look so desaturated. That’s when he notices. Out of the corner of his eye. His hand is turning grey.

He starts panicking, his breathing accelerates. 

“No, no, no. What’s happening.”

His anxiety is only stopped by a sudden scream.

“HEY FLOYD!!!!!” A head appears from the bushes. It’s… Poppy?

“FLOYD are you OK? Your name is Floyd right?” She looks down and screams. “OHMYGOSHYOURHAND!. What do I do what do I do??? Uh, try and think about like, flowers and rainbows and stuff?

Even through the pain Floyd can’t help but roll his eyes. “I’m sorry, but that’s not really helping right now. And were you… listening to us in the bushes? That’s kinda creepy.”

Poppy smiles. “Well, it is my duty as princess to help every trolls problem. Even if it involves being kinda creepy”

Floyd seems a little surprised. “Oh, you’re the princess here?”

Poppy immediately realises she hasn’t actually introduced herself yet. “Oh my goodness how RUDE of me! I’m Poppy, princess of Troll village and your new best friend! I’ll take you to my Dad, he might know what to do. Let me help you up.”

She holds out her hand. (part 2)

[severalforraelee]

Getaway to Hawaii: Pierre Gasly x Reader

Photo credits to motorsport.com

Word count: 2,078

Written by raelee / Posted Mar 15

Masterlist

Formula 1 Masterlist

An arm wrapping around my waist wakes me up from a deep, much needed sleep. Running after two little boys all day isn’t easy- especially with a husband gone half of the year because of his job. I snuggle back into the arm, already knowing who it is and enjoying the limited alone time that I get with him. With my eyes still closed, I feel him lean over me, kissing me on the cheek over and over again. I giggle at the action, squealing as he rubs his scruff against my skin.

“Stop it, Pierre,” I roll onto my back to look into the Frenchman’s captivating eyes.

“You don’t really want me to stop,” he teases, “This is the first time that I’ve been alone with my lovely wife in two weeks. Let me keep kissing her.”

He leans closer to me and I let him, our lips connecting in a deep kiss. His body moves so that he’s straddling me and I raise my hands, tangling them in his hair and trying to pull him closer to me, as if that’s even possible. A warm hand sneaks up my- sorry- his shirt on my body, rising higher and higher.

Then the door’s thrown open.

“Mommy.” The boy with the palest blonde hair that I’ve ever seen- God knows where he got that from- stands in the doorway to mine and Pierre’s bedroom, meeting my eyes with a guilty and shameful look on his face.

“What’s wrong, baby?” I push Pierre back gently so that I can sit up, concerned with his expression.

“I tried to go potty by myself,” Elliot responds, seconds away from crying.

It’s then that I notice the lack of pants and underwear on his lower half.

“Gross, someone got pee all over the bathroom,” his older brother decides that this is the best time to chime in, running to stand behind Elliot.

Elliot erupts into tears at Ayden’s words and I hurry out of bed, taking care to tug my shirt down before my kids can see anything. But it’s not like they haven’t seen it before.

“Sh, it’s okay, El, let’s go get you cleaned up,” I reassure the two year old, grabbing his hand. “Pierre, can you clean up the pee while I get him ready?”

I leave before he can respond, not wanting to hear his grumbling at being assigned pee clean up duty.

It’s an hour later, Elliot and Ayden playing together nicely in the living room, Elliot with his big boy pull-up on and Ayden showing off his big boy Spiderman underwear, when Pierre appears again.

He wraps his arms around me from behind, watching as I move the scrambled eggs around in the pan. His chin leans forward, resting on my shoulder as he murmurs gently into my ear.

“I can’t believe that you put me on pee clean up duty.”

“You weren’t here last time for poop clean up duty,” I wrinkle my nose at the memory.

He hums, hopefully in gratefulness, and rocks us back and forth gently. “I have been away a lot lately. I’ve missed the boys, they always seem like they’ve grown so much since I last went away.”

“They’re two and three, prime growing ages,” I respond, pushing the pan of scrambled eggs off the burner and pulling the one full of bacon onto the burner in front of me.

“Mm, I know who else is in her prime,” he flirts, kissing my neck.

I roll my eyes at his action but can’t help the little smile on my face.

“What do you say during summer break you and I sneak off to have a romantic getaway?”

“Pierre, summer break’s in three weeks. Where would we find a babysitter on such short notice? Where would we go? Where would we stay?” I question him, even just the suggestion sending me into a frenzy.

He turns me around, holding my hands in his own. “My mom already said yes to babysitting, you know how much she loves the boys. I know a little place in Hawaii, leave all of the other details to me to figure out.”

“You mean your assistant,” I raise my eyebrows at him.

He rolls his eyes but leans forward, placing a kiss on my lips.

It’s surprisingly passionate. I didn’t think he would want this romantic getaway this bad, but the kiss shows the emotions that he can’t put into words.

He pulls back, placing a final peck on my lips. “So? What do you say?”

I sigh, glancing over to the living room where Elliot and Ayden have somehow found markers and are drawing on each other with them.

“I hope your mom knows what she’s in for.”

He follows my sightline, sighing as well before beginning to walk towards the living room. “I’ve got this one.”

~

“Pierre, this is beautiful,” I gasp as we walk into the villa sitting atop Hawaii’s ocean blue water.

“Only the best for my love,” he responds, leaning in and kissing my temple.

I move to the bedroom, setting my suitcase down on a chair and pulling out my phone. One text to Pascale to check on the boys won’t hurt…

Just as I open my phone, a rough hand pulls it out of my own, setting it down on the nearby dresser. Pierre’s arms wrap around my body, caging my arms to my chest and lowering his head, resting his cheek on my own.

“None of that now, they’re in good hands,” he reassures me.

“I know, it’s just hard being away from them. I haven’t been this far away from them in three years, four if you’re counting the time that I was pregnant with Ayden.”

My body turns in his arms, his hands sliding to rest on my lower back as I wind my arms around his neck. My fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck, wanting to do something to soothe the slight anxiety I’m feeling at being away from my babies.

“So we might as well take advantage of being away from them while we can, right?” He suggests, a smirk beginning to make its way onto his face.

I narrow my eyes at him, immediately picking up on the insinuation of his words. That doesn’t stop me from kissing him back when he leans in to place his lips on mine, and I don’t protest when he guides me over to the bed.

~

I smile at the waitress as she walks away with our breakfast orders, thanking her. My gaze turns to Pierre to see him already looking at me, a smile of admiration on his lips.

“So, what do you have planned for today?” I ask, sneaking a wishful gaze at a couple riding past the beachside restaurant on jet skis.

That looks so fun.

“I didn’t plan anything for today.”

His words have my gaze returning to him and his face drops at my expression.

“What?” He questions.

“Pierre,” I pause, the dots connecting in my mind. “Did you plan anything for this trip?”

“No,” he responds, now looking like he’s regretting that choice. “I thought that you would want this time off to relax.”

“Pierre, I’ve been running after two toddlers for the past three years, I need to have something to do,” I whine, “I can’t just sit around all day.”

I feel bad complaining, since this is a lovely trip. From taking initiative of wanting us to go on it to buying plane tickets to renting the villa, it’s clear that he did put thought and effort into making this a nice, romantic getaway for both of us.

But… how many times do you get to go to Hawaii?

“I’ll fix this,” he reassures me, reaching over the table to grab my hands in his own. “Do you want to go ride jet skis today? I saw you watching them.”

I give him a shy smile, being brought back to our first date. He held my hands just like this when telling me that his job requires a lot of time and energy, but he really wanted to have a relationship with me and asked if I’d be okay with that. I’m so thankful that I said yes that night.

“I would love that.”

~

The next couple of days go by in a blur. Pierre and I went to ride on jet skis the first day, hiking to a volcano the second day, tanning on the beach and swimming in the ocean (and maybe having sex in the ocean) on the third day, and snorkeling on the fourth day.

Throughout it all I miss my boys, sneaking texts to Pascale and smiling at the photos she sends me throughout each day. By day two Pierre realizes what I’m doing, which means that I don’t have to hide the check ins anymore, showing him the goofy photos and videos that his mom sends of our sons.

“It’s so beautiful here,” I breathe out, cuddling closer into my husband’s side as we watch the last sunset of our trip. The pinks and purples and oranges swirl together over the clear water as the sun wanes in the sky.

“You’re so beautiful,” he replies quietly, “I’m so lucky to have you. You’re the perfect wife and mother to our sons, and you’re the kindest person that I know.”

I smile up at him, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for planning this trip, Pierre. I really appreciate it.”

“Thank you for coming with me. I know it’s been hard for you to be away from the boys, but I’ve really enjoyed this time together.”

We sit together in silence for a while, his hand stroking my shoulder delicately.

“I really do miss you guys, you know, when I’m traveling for races.”

“We don’t doubt that you do. We really miss you, too.”

“Do you think that you and the boys would like to come out for more races? You know, more than the ones that you do right now?” He suggests.

“Uh, Pierre, I actually want to talk to you about something,” I admit nervously, sitting up on the swinging bench.

I pull back from his grip, resting my back on the armrest of the bench so that I can face him. He gives me a concerned expression, obviously unsure of the topic of discussion and my anxious behavior.

“Uh, okay,” he lets out a nervous chuckle. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” I soothe, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “It’s just, I want something, and-””I want something, too,” he interrupts me, eyes lighting up at my words and the ideas of what I could want running through his mind.

“Okay, how about we say what we want together on the count of three?” He recommends.

I nod and take a deep breath. “One… two… three…”

“I want another baby.”

I squeal and he cheers as we say the same words. My hand reaches out for a high five and he connects it, pulling me into his lap with the grip.

“Look at us, we’re in sync,” he grins widely.

I laugh, leaning forward to press a sloppy and excited kiss to his lips.

“Is that why you wouldn’t come out for more races? Because you’d be pregnant?” He inquiries.

I nod. His hands rest on my hips as he stares out at the sunset, clearly trying to do some mental math.

“Well, if it’s August, and you get pregnant now,” he murmurs to himself, “You’d be due… in May, so you could still come to some of the races.”

“With two toddlers and a newborn, Pierre?” I raise my eyebrows at him, unimpressed.

He shrugs, pulling me closer to him. “We’ll figure it out.”

His lips meet mine again, one hand raising to tangle in my hair as he tries to push me even further onto him. My hands rest on his shoulders, traveling to guide along his back.

Once we run out of breath, me much sooner than him, he pulls away, planting a kiss onto my lips.

“We should get started like now, since it might take a while.”

“Of course,” I nod, smirking at him.

He can’t help but grin, pulling me in for a kiss once again.

Who knew a romantic getaway would turn into another baby?

Well, many people probably saw that coming.

[passivenovember]

Billy tugs his phone out of his pocket, clumsy fingers swiping notifications from the home page. 

He’s got four emails from Cosmo, a missed call from Maxine, and a message from Joyce that lights up his screen with the same sprawling, letter-esque type that all people born before 1983 seem to use. 

Billy, Joyce says, and Billy imagines her index finger tapping furiously, glasses perched on the tip of her nose, Hop ate some bad seafood. Won’t make the party. I’m sorry, kid. Love you so much. Breathe in, have fun, breathe out. Love, Joyce Byers.

Billy hadn’t noticed the time.

“This is fun,” Eddie says, suddenly. 

Billy looks up, startled out of his swirling little daydream. “Sure,” he says distantly. Things have settled in the dust. Soft, intimate conversations flutter around the room like butterfly wings, brushing Billy’s skin and sticking to the sweat on his brow. 

He’s relieved to be out of the spotlight. A good meal can take the edge off of things, sending people into a heady, comfortable space where nothing matters as much as it did before. 

Scarecrow is asleep on the couch. Everyone else is gone.

Billy considers the clock on his home screen and the prickly meaning of 10:23 shining over the last picture he took with his mom before boarding the plane last Christmas. His feet hurt, his throat’s dry, and really what would it matter if he took off?

It’s not like Steve would toss a rock through his living room window. He might send someone after him, like. Chrissy or Eddie or Dustin, who Billy learned spent every summer at a camp not far from Mammoth Lakes. He’s been gathering information all evening, building his arsenal. No matter the case or the friend or the scenario, Billy could take them–

“Should we go check on Steve?” 

Billy looks up from the empty pit of his cell phone screen. It’s gone dark. The room has cleared out, with art majors and registered nurses running back to whatever warehouse Steve keeps them in, and it’s down the the bare bones.

Billy. Scarecrow, asleep on the couch. Robin and Chris, probably, sitting on a bathroom floor somewhere misty-eyed like El and Max are when they’ve had too much to drink, doing each other’s hair and throwing compliments at each other like confetti. And Munson. 

Always Munson. 

Eddie wags an eyebrow, patting at his shirt pocket for a packet of cigarettes. “Want?”

“No,” Billy says, wrinkling his nose at the bright orange package, “Thanks.”

Apparently, people still smoke Dosal’s. 

Apparently, this is 1982. 

“Suit yourself, Blondie,” Eddie fishes a pale slim between two fingers and pinches the butt with his teeth, patting around all over again for a lighter. Billy wants to play the Hypocrite, insisting that smoking real cigarettes is bad, even though his lips are lightning pricks of jealousy. 

“They’re having a moment,” Billy says finally.

“Who?”

“Nancy and Steve.”

“Awful long moment, if you ask me.”

“Nobody did.”

“Gee, thanks,” Eddie quips back. He gets a flame started. Smoke pouring from his nose like a dragon, “You should go up there,” Eddie says, eyes bright with mischief.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t just go up there–”

“Don’t wanna cause a scene?” Eddie blows smoke through his nose, the flat, sweaty face of his palm lining circles through the air, “Dude. Party’s dead. It’s not like anyone’s around to see and even if they did, they won’t remember or care once the hangover kicks in.”

“Oh, and you don’t count?”

“‘Course not, Blondie, I’m just stirring the shit. Besides,” Eddie smirks, “You go up there and find out what’s keeping him, and I swear I’ll punt the Wheeler kid over my shoulder and we’ll be gone in time for Nancy to storm, broomstick flying, out the front door.”

The edge of Billy’s cell cuts into his palm, its corner pressing deep enough that Billy feels his pulse thumping through centimeters of metal and plastic. “Where’s Chris?”

“Went for a sleepover with Robin and the baby. Chrissy loves kids.”

Billy doesn’t remember that. He doesn’t remember much of anything–

“Are you serious?” Eddie rolls his eyes, “That’s what you get for staring at your phone for twenty minutes, Hargrove.”

Billy starts. “Twenty minutes?”

“It’s true what they say about radio signals and microwaves and cell phones frying your frontal lobe, you know–”

The ceiling starts thumping overhead. “Wait,” Eddie says to himself. To Billy. He holds his palm upward, cigarette smoke curling up through his fingers like fog from a sewer grate.

Someone slams a door. 

And then someone else comes thundering down the stairs, their footfall so heavy that Billy glances at the knick-knack shelf with mirth.

He holds his breath, terrified and suddenly, heart-wrenchingly sober–

And then Nancy rounds on him.

She’s crying.

Eddie says, “Wheeler,” like he knows something they don’t know.

Nancy ignores him. Her eyes somehow catch and tear open on Billy’s smooth, concerned gaze. He wants to say something to her. He wants to apologize and scrub the thundering sound of her footsteps from the stairwell.

She stalks to the foyer, snatching her purse off the now bare antique table that had bags and jackets piled high not even twenty minutes ago. “Mike,” Nancy says, her eyes glued to the floor as she digs around for her keys.

Scarecrow doesn’t rouse from his spot on the sofa. He’s drooling, a little.

Billy clears his throat, “Is everything–”

“Michael Wheeler,” Nancy says, with all the pissed-off, righteous terror of a girl who spent too long at her mother’s knee.

Mike sits with a startled sound, “What, what happened? Is everything–”

“Get up so I can drive you home.”

Mike stares wildly around the room, dimly lit like all rooms are at the end of a monumental evening. “Where is everybody?” Mike’s wide, nervous eyes land on Billy. “Hey, do you have any more of that tater-tot casserole?”

“I–”

Nancy grabs her brother by the scruff of his neck, “You don’t need more casserole, I can get you McDonald's on the way home.”

“Home,” Mike repeats, scrubbing sleep from his eyes, “What happened to you and Steve–”

Nancy hauls Mike to the front door, shoves him through, and slams it shut behind them.

The house falls silent like someone hit the mute button. Like Nancy ripped the button out of the wall and they’re stuck in this weird, floating space between alive and. Something else. Radio silent.

Eddie clears his throat, “Anyway–”

“Mike told me he doesn’t like tater-tot casserole,” Billy says thickly. Feeling. A little bit like a tiny ceramic figurine in the center of a snow globe, full of wonder as emotions swirl brightly all around him. 

Maybe he’s just drunk. “He said he wouldn’t eat it.”

“Right.”

“But he did,” Billy tries heavily. “Mike was the first person I met when I got here and he made me feel like shit, but then. He ate the casserole.”

Eddie nods, taking a languid drag from his still-lit cigarette. Billy thinks that Steve is going to throw a fit when he comes down here and finds his vintage, 1970s furniture smelling exactly like the decade they were manufactured in.

Billy shakes his head, willing it to clear. “It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense anymore.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

“I just mean that. Why would Mike eat the casserole if he hates it?”

Eddie shrugs, “Maybe he was lying?”

“But why would he eat my casserole if he hates me?”

“Maybe he was lying,” Eddie says again, flatter this time. He puffs on his cigarette, studying the drunken flush on Billy’s cheeks. It goes on forever and forever and then he ashes his cigarette in the tray Steve uses to keep loose change in, leaning forward on his elbows. 

Eddie’s head gets huge and wobbly like a bobbledummy. “Can I be honest with you, Billiam?”

“--Billiam–”

“Can I, though?”

“Sure?”

“You’re a great guy,” Eddie says lightly, full of feeling, and Billy starts to shake. “I’m being serious. You’re the best guy Steve’s been with in longer than I can remember, you just. I think you judge people too harshly.”

“Me?”

“You.” Eddie determines. He leans back, cool as a frizzy-haired cucumber. “I just think, like. You’re getting all misty-eyed over the drunken realization that maybe Mike didn’t hate you as much as you thought he did, and earlier you seemed surprised that Nancy didn’t try to kill you with a paring knife, and you’re attributing it all to some garlic bread and a fucking tater-tot casserole.”

Billy’s ears feel hot. Red hot and sunburned, under the weight of Eddie’s scrutiny. Maybe he’s right, maybe he’s wrong– “What should I attribute it to, then?”

“You,” Eddie says, lighting another cigarette. “I’ve known you for half a day, Hargrove, and I can tell. You’re cool. Way cooler than you give yourself credit for.”

–

Eddie makes up some bullshit lie about needing to go home. I work in the morning, he says, so Billy lets him go.

And then he climbs the stairs, two at a time while flickering memories of the party-set-up dance just out of reach. He’s never actually been anywhere beyond the landing on the second level of Steve’s house. The attic drawstring dangles in a lazy, barely-there breeze, and Billy’s surprised to find more doors than he anticipated, stamped along the hallway in calm, quiet darkness.

He imagines them leading to spare bathrooms. Closets that span the entire floor. Libraries and knicks that lead to the unpolished servant’s quarters. 

It’s magical like the Brothers Grimm stories his mom used to read to him, and Billy has the foreign, intense urge to open every single door and peer into the darkness like Nancy Drew.

Nancy Wheeler.

But the door on the farthest end of the hallway spills gold onto the carpet from a tiny, amber sliver, and Billy’s heart thumps wildly, battering against his ribs at the thought that Steve’s in there, Steve’s just down the hall–

Billy knocks twice with the hardest part of his knuckle. Just like his mother used to before Neil went missing and before Susan made her laugh at the grocery store, back when Billy had huge feelings but couldn’t put a name to them. Back when his bedroom was a fortress. 

“Steve?” Billy says. Someone shuffles behind the door, their shadow casting long enough to reach like phantom fingers into the hallway. “I think I’m gonna head out–”

The door swings open.

Steve’s been crying. 

Right away, Billy’s heart skips a beat and starts thumping backward, eager to turn back time and retrace every step until things start to make sense again. “Oh, you didn’t have to open the door,” Billy says, shyly, “Sorry. I didn’t want to bother you.”

Steve shrugs. He won’t meet Billy’s eyes when he says, “Is everyone else gone?” Like he hopes they’ll come thundering up the stairs, one right after the other, to save him from this.

Billy tries to push the thought away and fails. “No, they’re all gone.”

“Did you have an alright time?”

“Yeah,” Billy says softly, surprised to feel his heart opening like a flower in the light of that truth. “Your friends are really great, Steve. Chrissy was a doll and Robins–”

“Robin.”

“Yeah. Dustin actually knew where Mammoth Lakes is on a map, like. I was so surprised. And he’s been hiking near the mountains at that nerdy little summer camp–”

“--Camp Knowhere–”

“Right. Science camp,” Billy smiles, feeling hot all over from the booze, “And Eddie was great, too, y’know. For a nosy piece of shit.”

Steve starts at that, his spine going ramrod straight like maybe Billy’s words electrocuted him. “You. You spent most of the night with Eddie?” 

“Yeah, he’s cool,” Billy chuckles, and. Steve makes a face, like. A trademark, Big-eyed-terrified-jealous-asshole kind of face. It’s adorable. “Steve. Are you jealous?” Billy asks, amused.

Steve turns beet-red. “No.”

“Oh my god, you are.”

“I’m not jealous of Eddie Munson,” Steve spits, rolling his eyes so far back Billy thinks they may never be brown again, “He’s a nice guy, I just. Can’t believe you found anything he said so interesting that it took you an hour and a half to come up here.”

Billy falters. “I thought he was one of your friends.”

“He’s a work friend,” Steve says sharply, “That’s not the same thing. Nancy said he was making eyes at you all night.”

And. 

For the first time since Steve started turning Billy’s heart on its head with the sound of a shovel on his driveway, Billy wants to knock Steve’s teeth in. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Steve looks bashful, staring at the floor. “I don’t know. Nancy said that–”

“Fucking Nancy,” Billy spits. His arms burn, and his muscles pull tense. “She has no right to run up here and tell you that anything was going on, Steve, because she’s full of shit. Eddie’s a cool person. He was just being nice.”

“Like how he’s been ‘nice,’ to every other guy I’ve–”

Billy tries to put a lid on the fire that sentiment starts, burning through his stomach. That Billy’s not special. He’s just like every other guy Steve’s ever brought home. “Eddie loves his girlfriend,” Billy reasons, “Chrissy, remember her?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Billy says, crossing his arms over his chest. “What does it matter who I spent the night with, anyway.” 

“Billy–”

“I still had a good time. I thought that’s what you wanted?” 

“It is what I wanted.”

“Then why are you acting so weird?” Billy's jaw aches. He wants to hinge it shut. Yearns to fold himself into Steve’s arms and forget everything. Nancy and the kitchen, Nancy and the Hallway–

But. 

He’s drunk. And when Billy’s drunk, his mouth runs away with him. Steve’s hurt him, whether or not he meant to is inconsequential, and Billy’s suddenly pissed off. Furious. He bares his teeth. “It’s not like I could’ve spent any time with you.”

Steve picks up on it immediately, his eyes blowing wide with regret. “Bill–”

“When you weren’t saddled up in the next room, smoking until your eyes dried out and ditching me so I could bake bread in the kitchen like your little kept boy, you were locked up in here with Nancy.”

Steve’s baby browns flash red with anger. “Like you were, with Munson?”

“What are we talking about?” Billy snaps. “Where is this coming from?”

“Nancy just said–”

“You’re throwing a fucking fit because I was spending time with one of your friends?” 

“To be fair,” Stee quips, smiling softly, “Eddie’s pretty cute.”

“I’m not in the mood for this,” Billy shakes his head, driven crazy with sorrow, “That’s bullshit, Steve. You don’t get to be mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you, baby.”

“Don’t call me that,” Billy says, “I’m pissed at you.”

“Alright, Jesus–”

Billy feels his fuze stop, ready to detonate. “Why are you rolling your eyes and acting like this isn’t a big deal? It is.”

“I know.”

“I come up here and you start bitching at me about Eddie Munson. I’m not the bad guy, here. I wasn’t the one who disappeared for an hour to talk to a girl I once called ‘baby,’ on the phone.”

Steve doesn’t say anything. 

His mouth opens and closes, working around a comeback, but Billy isn’t in the mood to give him that chance. 

“For months, Nancy’s been this huge thing hanging over my head. Ever since we got snowed in that last time, and. Steve, I didn’t ask to be a bigger part of your life. I didn’t ask you to scrape my driveway, or bring me ice melt, or grow flowers to decorate my classroom with. I didn’t want any of it. I don’t deserve–”

What Nancy said to me. Robin’s kindness. 

This.  

Love.

You. 

Billy takes a deep, steadying breath. “I’m sorry,” He says, tugging a hand through his hair. When their eyes meet, Steve’s are warm. Sad. Billy wets his lips, “I don’t want to bitch back and forth. Tonight was really fun. Really. I loved it.”

I love you.

Billy turns, grateful that the world is less of a dreamscape, now. He’s ready to go home, ready to disappear, But then–

“Nancy said she overstepped, tonight.”

Billy stops. His hand clutches the banister.

“She told me she opened her mouth and ruined what we had, and. To be honest, I’m not really surprised. I should’ve expected that she would say something fucked to you because she does that. Always has. It’s one of the reasons we broke up in High School and never got back together again, even though–”

“--Steve–”

“I just. We’ve never really stopped caring about each other, and it’s unhealthy. I was living in denial because it’s always been platonic on my end. But I think in some weird, step-ford wives kinda way, maybe Nance–”

Billy whirls, his body catching on fire, “I don’t want to hear that she’s in love with you, Steve.” 

Steve watches him like a bear caught in a trap. 

Billy’s voice cracks right down the middle. He hates it. He’s going to drown. “I swear to god. If you tell me that she’s in love with you and after all this time, all this shit you’ve done to make me like you. Steve, if you stand there and say you love her–”

“I’m not in love with Nancy Wheeler, Billy, I’m in love with you.”

Billy blinks, shocked when tears cling to his lashes. 

He’s grateful that Steve isn’t close enough to see them, poised and ready to break like waves over his freckles. “No,” Billy says, not. Believing it. He can’t. He won’t. Billy shakes his head, “No–”

“Look–”

“--This is insane,” Billy says, “We’re fighting. We’re having our first fight.”

“Yeah,” Steve says sheepishly, “It sucks, but. It’s kinda nice, too. Refreshing to have it all out there.”

“Stop,” Billy says, breathless. “This isn’t right. I’m supposed to call you an asshole, and you’re supposed to kick me out and I’m supposed to not sleep, and. Cry to my sister on the phone. I’m supposed to realize I fucked up big time, and come back tomorrow with flowers and apologize for getting so drunk and ruining our lives–”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Steve says. He tucks his hands into his pockets, gaze steady on what he wants. “What’s happening is my fault.”

“It’s not,” Billy says thickly. He wants to stand on the stairway banister and say it’s his fault. All of it. His insecurity, his depression, his brain bullshit, making everything difficult since that first January day–

“It is, though,” Steve says, taking one step closer. “I shouldn’t have invited Nancy tonight. I should’ve done more to make you comfortable, and even though I knew all the shit with her was tearing you up inside, I didn’t do anything to stop it. I should have.”

“It’s okay–”

“It’s not okay, Billy, you’re supposed to throw shit and call me an asshole because I deserve it,” Steve says. “We’re having our first fight, remember?”

He’s on the verge of smiling, but. 

Billy can feel heartache like an incoming rainstorm, emotions like clouds gathering somewhere neither of them can see but when the rains come and wash away everything that was there before, they can start over, bathed in the light of the dawn.

“I don’t know what she said, exactly, but Bill,” Steve looms closer, his eyes swamped with emotion, “You’ve gotta believe me. It’s not true.” When his hands cup Billy’s neck, they’re warm. His thumbs brush lightly over Billy’s jaw. “I’m so in love with you, Billy.”

Billy presses into them, like a cat, “Okay.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t say it earlier. I’m sorry–”

“That’s the thing about a first fight,” Billy says, grinning softly, “I think we get to have makeup sex, now.”

Steve holds terrifyingly, shockingly still, and then. 

He moves.

Billy kisses him. He presses all his weight into Steve, pushing and pulling until their bodies meld into something new. 

Steve sucks on his tongue, hands scrambling to touch every part of Billy he can find. They stumble, unsure on love-drunk legs, knees knocking along the hallway and into the bedroom. 

Billy hums low in his throat. Steve’s tugging on his shirt, pulling the starched fabric downdown down until the blood stops pulsing up through his brain. 

“Off,” Steve says, panting into his mouth, “Off, baby, please–”

“Buttons,” Billy grunts, and they go flying, a handful of tiny stars that leave scratch marks on the wallpaper.

This is the shirt Steve picked out for him. So they could match. They’re matching right now, two halves of a whole, and Steve gets him on his back, says, “Let me eat you out, baby. Please–”

“Yes.” Billy’s mouth chokes around a half-baked thought, that. Good boy. Steve, Billy, both of them. 

“Thank you,” Steve says, like a prayer, and it’s ridiculous. 

Billy wonders if it’s the start of something. Of love. Fifty more years draped button-downs and pressed khakis and Steve, salt-and-pepper gray around the temples and everywhere else. 

He gets Billy’s pants off.

Billy moans because he wants to see it. The room is cold, and Steve is warm, and Billy tucks into it like an animal fending off the winter, and then he’s hot.

On fire.

Steve gets his mouth on Billy. Licks up his balls and swallows his cock down to the root, nose buried in the curly blond husk that pillows him. Steve gives head like someone’s told him he’s got ten minutes left to live. It’s break-neck. Harsh. The world is drowning and the sky has been torn open, and this is Steve’s dying wish. 

“Shit,” Billy says to the ceiling, “Shit, Steve, I’m gonna–”

Steve pulls off with a wet, satisfying pop. “I’ve got lube in the drawer,” He says, voice hoarse through the fog of pleasure surrounding them. 

He doesn’t ask. 

He licks a stripe from Billy’s balls to his swollen, pink head, and says, “Open it for me.”

Billy doesn’t have the wherewithal to think so he gets on his knees and crawls, starving, to the beside table. 

“Jesus Christ,” Steve says. He follows Billy up the mattress. Steve’s cupping his ass, petting it, spreading it open. 

He spits on Billy’s pucker, and.

There are fingers, pressing lightly at his rim. Steve says, “I’ve wanted this for years,”

Billy drops the lube, says, “Years?” But then he’s being split open. Fucked open on Steve’s tongue, strong and sure and slick, in all his most tender places.

His face hits the mattress. He’s suffocating, and death smells like cedarwood and vanilla. Billy’s dripping a puddle onto it, ruining the duvet and the sheets too, probably, but.

It feels amazing. It’s amazing–

Billy’s radioactive. Steve’s got him by the kneecaps, keeping him open and receptive, and Billy’s cock hangs heavy and swollen when Steve pressed two fingers in alongside his tongue.

Billy’s makes a noise, like. 

His lungs are giving out. His heart has grown lips to speak, after all these years, and–

“Is it okay if I–”

“Want you,” Billy gasps, tasting cotton on his tongue. He can’t manage more than that.

Steve pulls away, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to the base of Billy’s spine. “Lay on your back, okay?”

Bily does as he’s told. 

His shirt is tangled frustratingly around his elbows. Billy twists onto his back, anyway, watching as Steve tugs his own pants down just far enough for his cock to bounce free.

It’s perfect.

It’s long and thick, pink at the tip next to a pretty brown freckle, and Billy wants to get his mouth on it. He tries to sit, obeying when Steve keeps him pinned to the mattress with a strong, gentle arm across his chest. 

His pupils are blown wide, eating up all the honey-brown Billy loves so much. “I want,” Steve starts, gasping when Billy’s fingers tug at his length. “Fuck–”

“Where’s the lube?” Billy demands. 

Steve fumbles for it. When his fingers close around the bottle, he squirts a generous amount onto Billy’s waiting palm and sits back, watching through eyes half-lidded as Billy’s fingers tease and play with him. 

“You’re big,” Billy says softly.

“Jesus, you’re gonna give me a complex.”

“It’s a fact,” Billy twists his fingers and Steve lights up like Times Square. He wants to do it again, “You’re gonna feel so good, Stevie.”

Steve drops his forehead to Billy’s chest, tongue laving hot over his collarbone. “You talk way too much,”

Billy tugs on his cock a little harder, relishing the little ah ah ah’s Steve can’t hold back. He’s got Steve where he wants him, that pretty pink head bumping softly against his hole, and Billy needs this.

Steve’s heart and body and love, more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.

It’s terrifying.

It hurts and it really, really doesn’t when Steve slides home. Kisses all over Billy’s face and says, “I love you,” like he’s a virgin who’s just seen God for the first time.

Then he moves, sliding out and back in, out and back in.

Thrusting and then pounding, folding Billy in half until Steve is all he can feel inside of himself, all he can see staring down from above.

“I love you,” Steve says. Keeps saying, when Billy whimpers that he’s going to come. Steve quickens his thrusts, “You’re gorgeous. You’re so tight, baby, so perfect. Come for me, alright? C’mon, let me see you–”

It’s all the gentle reverence Billy could never, ever deserve. 

He has no choice but to lie there and take it.

–

“I like your ears.”

It’s hot, under the duvet cover. Billy’s covered in sticky, warm sweat. It’s Steve’s and it’s his and it’s theirs, making it difficult to stay put but impossible to pull away. 

Steve’s got a leg thrown over Billy’s waist. 

He’s propped on his elbow, gazing down at the soft, rounded shell of Billy's ear, fingertips tracing up and around until he tugs on the lobe.

“Ow,” Billy swats his hand away. “Dick.”

“You’ve got Dumbo ears.”

“Is this the best you can come up with in terms of pillow talk?”

“Freckles and pink cheeks and perfect lips. Long eyelashes and wonderful hair and now the ears, took?” Steve ignores him, leaning down to ghost the shell with his lips, “You’re like a cartoon character. It’s like God wanted to make everyone else feel bad about themselves because of how detailed you are.” 

His breath tickles.

Billy laughs, high and bright, “God, you’re insane.”

“What do you expect? You’re the main character and I’m just a supporting role–”

“--shit, what time is it–”

“--I’m not even a supporting role, I’m a cameo. An NPC–”

Billy pats around under the covers for his phone, realizing that it’s probably still lying face-down on the coffee table. 

“--It’s really only a matter of time before you find some other person who’s as perfect and detailed as you are, and then you can have perfectly detailed babies and live in your perfectly detailed house–”

Billy sits, drooping his legs over the side of the mattress, “I live in an IKEA showroom, I don’t think you’ll need to worry about that.”

“Hey, where are you going?” Steve demands. “I thought we were gonna have a sleepover?”

Billy’s stomach swoops. 

His brain kickstarts, trying to think of a reason he can’t sleep over tonight, but his synapses fumble the ball and he sits there, starched button down dangling between two fingers. 

Suddenly, he can’t breathe.

The walls are closing in, and Steve says, “Billy, what’s wrong?” And Billy thinks no one should ever want anything from him. No one should ever get this far–

“Hey, why are you breathing like that?” Steve sits, palms spreading warmly over Billy’s stomach where he slots in behind him. “Where’d you go?” 

Billy’s mouth dries up. Outside the window, the sky is starting to gray, a little, dawn slowly and softly approaching. Billy has no idea how long they’ve been here, lying like this together, but he knows he never wants to leave.

Won’t survive it ever ending. 

But it will.

It will–

Steve presses a kiss to the back of Billy’s neck. “Talk to me, Billy. Please.”

Billy shakes his head.

“Let’s lay down,” Steve tells him, and before Billy knows it he’s tucked under the covers again, folded in and around the soft, supple places Steve has made for him. 

Billy counts to one hundred, then.

Listens to Steve’s breathing for as long as it takes his own to go calm. Finally, he sits with his back to the headboard. Steve watches him, patient.

Always patient. 

Billy takes a deep breath. “When you were up here with Nance–”

“--Billy–”

“What did she tell you?”

Steve’s fingers play with the knobs of thread on his duvet. Like the rest of his house, it’s old. Quilted. Probably a hand me down from his mother, and her mother, and hers before that. “She told me you were afraid of me.”

Billy waits. Listens.

“You know you don’t have to be, right?” Steve looks up at him, eyes thick with worry, “You know I would never do anything–”

“It’s more than that,” Billy says. “My mom. She wasn’t always gay. Or, maybe she was, but she wasn’t always married to Susan.” His knuckles turn white on the lip of the duvet cover. This is stupid. This is so fucking stupid. “Before our family was like it is now, there was. My dad.”

Steve nods. Waits.

“He was an angry man,” Billy swallows and his throat clicks. “He liked. Blood.”

“Baby, if it’s hurting you, we don’t have to talk about this.”

“I have a lot of problems, Steve,” Billy says. “Something’s wrong with me.”

Steve shakes his head, “You struggle with mental illness. That doesn’t mean something is wrong with you, Billy.”

And.

Steve’s shaking. His jaw is set, strong and resolute, ready to argue Billy’s case for him. Ready to lay these things to rest because they’re in love.

Steve says he loves Billy. He really believes it, and.

Billy toes the edge of a cliff. “I’m gonna tell you something I never say out loud,” He whispers, “Is that alright?”

“Of course, you can tell me anything.”

“I know, but,” Billy sits up straighter, tugging a hand through his hair, “I need to say it because. Look, Steve, I.”

Billy’s going to throw up.

He closes his eyes. “I love you, okay? I fucking love you, too, and I can’t. Goddamn do this, if you don’t know the whole story–”

“Alright.” Steve sits, taking Billy’s hands in his own. “Tell me. Go slow.”

Billy opens his eyes, and all he can see is Steve. 

Beauty. 

Kindness. 

He realizes, then, that he’s shaking. That he would do anything to keep this. 

It makes him brave.

“Okay,” Billy starts, staring down at their hands because that’s easier. “I moved out here because I knew there were kids that needed someone to care about them, but I miss my family. I haven’t unpacked my house because I can’t see myself fitting in here, but. I never really fit anywhere, except for with my sister.” He stares out, to the foot of the bed. He counts the shadows, seeing his father’s face in every single one. “Steve, I. I didn’t expect to fall in love with you.”

Steve laughs, “Same, you’re way too cool for me.”

“No, I’m serious. I didn’t expect to fall in love. Not with anyone,” Billy says, “Ever.”

Steve’s smile falls away. “That’s not possible,” He says valiantly, “Someone would’ve come along and loved you. You’re a beacon for it.”

Billy gasps, “I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Steve, I used to be a piece of shit–”

“--So did I–”

“--I have panic attacks,” Billy admits in a rush, like he’s ever been good at hiding them. “I overthink things, and I spiral–”

“--I love you, Billy–”

“--I have to go to therapy two times a week. My favorite color is gray. Well, blue and gray, but–”

“--I love you, Billy,” Steve says, again. He rubs his thumb across the back of Billy’s hand, smiling softly. “We were neighbors before this. I know you.”

Billy watches Steve’s thumb, timing his breaths to its careful, loving swipe. “There was something else Nancy said,”

“What?”

“That I can’t keep stringing you along if fear is what I feel.”

Billy realizes, half a second too late, that he’s dropped a bomb. Steve pulls away from him, brow furrowing. “Stringing me along?”

“No, not, like, in the literal sense–”

Steve gets out of bed. He’s naked, and it feels wrong to look when the roof is caving in, but Billy can’t help it. 

“Nancy said that? I can’t believe Nancy said that, that’s so–” Steve’s eyes close like doors. “I don’t understand why you’re afraid of me.”

“Not you,” Billy says sharply. “She got that part wrong.”

“Then what? Tell me what I can do–”

“You can’t do anything!” Billy snaps. The room is silent. Outside, there are crickets. Night birds. Billy’s chest aches, pain springing fresh in his voice. “The fear is mine. It’s inside me. Ever since I was a kid, and. With my dad, I just.”

Steve watches him. 

Billy shakes his head. “I feel like I have a lot of work to do before I can love somebody.” 

A dam breaks. 

Billy doesn’t realize he’s crying until Steve crosses to him, pulling Billy to his chest. “Love isn’t something you have to work for, alright? You don’t have to spend years working on yourself until you think you’re perfect enough to love someone, you’re perfect now.”

Billy hiccups, his throat closing just a little. 

“Billy, please believe me,” Steve says. 

Billy wants to. More than anything, but.

He pulls away, scrubbing at his face with the back of one hand. It takes everything in him to say it, but he has to. He owes it to himself and to Steve and to this brand new, perfect, fragile thing growing between them.

“I love you,” Billy says gently, “I do. I’ve loved you so much for so long but I feel like I don’t know who I am. I haven’t known since the second I moved to Hawkins, and I just. Need to see my mom. And my sister. I need to go home and be with my family before I can–”

“When does your spring break start?”

“I don’t know,” Billy says, “What day is it?”

“If I knew, I’d tell you,” Steve smiles in spite of himself, thumb lifting to wipe the tear tracks from Billy’s face. “I could’ve guessed, you know? You’ve never really been happy, here. I thought I was helping.”

“You are.”

Steve nods, threading their fingers together. He watches their hands for a moment, and then sighs, his neck rolling his eyes to the ceiling. “I think you should go home early.”

Billy frowns. “But–”

“If you need space, I can give it to you,” Steve looks at him, smiling small and sad, “It hurts that you don’t see yourself here and I’ll miss you like hell for those two weeks, but. If that’s what you need to feel sure about this–”

“--I’m sure about you, Steve–”

“--Then yourself. Take care of you first,” Steve grows serious, eyes tracking the curves of Billy’s face, “I want you to feel okay. That’s the most important thing.”

Steve presses a kiss to their hands, and Billy loves him. It rumbles down through his bones, spreading like wildfire until his skin catches aflame. 

It hurts.

It hurts, and it really, really doesn’t when Billy lets out a deep, trapped breath. “Okay. I’ll miss you,”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

“You won’t run away from me when I get back?”

Steve leans forward, his breath ghosting the shell of Billy’s ear. “Where else am I gonna go?”

–

Billy sleeps in Steve’s bed that night.

When he wakes and the room is empty, his phone charging on the nightstand, he opens his Southwest App and buys a ticket. 

One way, home.

--

from the new chapter of if snow loves the trees and fields

[4lexnilsen]

alex’s eyes are saying all the things that his tongue can’t even begin to express,  smiling softly as the silent conversation unfolds between their souls.   a private exchange,  filled with nothing but love confessions.   he can easily understand her without words,  sense what’s going through her head because she’s the other half of his own heart.   his whole life.   his everything.   their souls are made from the same stars.   and these eyes of hers…   god,  he wants these hazel eyes to be the last thing tat he sees in this world…   “i can grow it out for you again.   how long should i let it be?   shoulder-length?   all the way down to my back?   as long as yours?   how’d you like it best?”   he wonders with a laugh,  teasing her,  acting as though they had years and years ahead of them.   an eternity to spend together.   

“well,  i was sunburned but the blushing…   that’s all on you,  baby.”   the funny thing is,  he still has the same exact reaction when he sees her or wakes up next to her.   his face flushes instantly and his heart skips a beat,  making him forget how to speak.   “a hair brush.   noted.   it’s okay to send just one,”   he says to no one in particular,  looking up at the sky,  searching for a camera.   he can’t really see anything,  but he knows that they’re being recorded the whole time.   maybe they’re on the tv screens of every panem citizen this very moment.   “we’ll share.”   he shakes his head,  refraining from rolling his eyes and saying more just because his little brother’s out there in district twelve.   still so little and helpless.   he can’t gamble with his life for a few moments of satisfaction.   

but then she closes the distance between them and erases all worries from alex’s mind.   the first brush of their lips is sweet and delicate,  not quite as fevered and desperate as the kisses they had shared right before going into the arena in his dressing room.   at least,  not at first.   but then his hands begin to glide down her back,  pulling her close to him,  her fingers finding his sandy curls,  and he’s almost certain his nervous system might explode from the sensations —   the warmth of her skin on his face,  her chest pressed against his,  their hearts beating as one as the kiss deepens,  dripping with desperation to hold on,  never come up for air in fear of it all crumbling to dust.   how does he stop time and stay here with her forever?   butterflies fluttering in his chest,  and as she begins to pull away,  he has to fight off the urge to chase after her.   it’s only when he finally opens his eyes,  pressing his lips together to preserve the taste of her,  that he knows what she’s about to say.   head shaking,  he refuses to listen.   

“no,”   he breathes,  his own eyes filling with tears even though he’s promised himself that he would never cry in the arena.   “no,  abi,  no…   just —   no.   i won’t allow this.”   he lifts his hand up,  trying to cut her off.   brows inching closer together.   “don’t bring david into this.”   he can’t argue with her reasoning,  with how his brother would never be allowed to just live with her in ten,  but the mere thought of losing her is so painful and unbearable that he refuses to acknowledge the possibility.   he doesn’t care if he sounds selfish.   “and don’t say things like that,  abi.   don’t ever say things like that.   i’ll never make peace with that.”   but then his features soften,  all at once,  hearing her tell him about her family.   how she misses them.   and he just wraps his arms around her petite frame,  hand cradling her head,  fingers tangling into her curls.   he squeezes his eyes shut,  feeling them begin to sting.   “they’re not going anywhere.   your family.   they’ll happily wait a couple more decades to see you again.   don’t make them greet you while there’s not a single wrinkle on your face.   grow old,  live a good life,  don’t just give up on everything now.”

abilene’s gaze never left his . she could get lost in those blue eyes , she had gotten lost in them throughout the years , but especially now . especially when he looked at her like this , like she was the world , like he loved her more than anything else . did alex see the same in her eyes ? did he see how much she loved him , how she would do anything for him ?

❛ i thought his hair sure looked better when it was longer . ❜ abilene was teasing him , her lips tugged into a smile while there was a glint of mischief in her eyes . alex was always so gentle with her , carefully untangling her hair and rubbing the last caked on pieces of blood from her face . . . she remembered that he was gentle then , too . she recalled his arms wrapping hesitantly around her waist and him stammering out a comment and how red his cheeks were . ❛ i thought that you were sweet , and i knew that you were kind . i thought that all of your blushing was from the heat , and that you were cute . ❜

abilene had a habit of glowing under his praise and touch . even now , when she was tired and desiccated , her body hummed from his touch to her face . her eyes fluttered open to meet his when he spoke . a smile , somewhat sad , grew on her face and she leaned her head into his palm . she didn’t want to live a life without him , either . . . but her heart couldn’t take another loss . ❛ maybe a hair brush , too . ❜

abilene was the one who moved first . she didn’t care about any cameras or anyone watching them , or any plans or promises that had been made . she reached for him , let one of her hands tangle in his curls and pull him down to meet her halfway when her lips found his . every kiss could be their last and abilene was sure to treat it that way . her heart swelled in her chest and her stomach flipped . all of the shyness and joy that he brought out of her pumped through her body all the way to her toes and back again .

when she lowered herself back down , her feet flat on the sandy shore , abilene’s eyes stung . she was too dehydrated to really cry , which was to her benefit , but her face flushed like she had been . ❛ i know , alexander . ❜ her voice was trying to crack and her breath trying to shudder . her chin trembled while she forced a smile onto her face and her voice became quiet . ❛ but . . . he wouldn’t make it to me . i-i’d take care of him like I promised but . . . ❜ it was impossible to move districts , or illegal , or perhaps both . ❛ he wouldn’t have anyone . ❜

the knot in her throat made swallowing painful , but she swallowed anyways . her hands reached for his chest , fingers tracing along the fabric of his matching jumpsuit to distract herself for just a moment . ❛ and i’ve . . . i’m not scared of it . i’ve made my peace with it . i’m . . . ❜ she trailed off and forced herself to look up at him again . ❛ i miss them . ❜ her family , how cold the world felt without them . . . how it was all her fault .

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Promise Me

Pairings: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x female reader

Warnings: failed relationship, miscarriage, angst, alcohol abuse, car accident

I’ve written this for @callsign-phoenix Sophie’s 1k follower challenge using the prompt ‘Hangman’s Hangover’.

“How many of those has he had,” Phoenix asked, aiming her pool cue towards Hangman. He was sitting at the bar surrounded by empty glasses, and his hair was a mess, not in its usual neatly gelled state. He had dark shadows under his blue eye and the gray tracksuit wasn’t doing him any favors.

“I have no clue but I have a feeling one of us is going to have to carry him home,” Coyote grunted, taking the cue from Phoenix.

“I’m not even sure what he’s drinking now. He started with whiskey but since then he’s had vodka and god knows what.” Bob chimed in, popping another peanut into his mouth as he watched his friends play.

“This has really done a number on him,” Coyote mumbled.

“They lost a child, Coyote. They are both hurting and I don’t blame them. Do you remember how excited he was when she was pregnant?” They all thought back to that day when Jake came running into the Hangman, the biggest grin on his face and waving a small piece of paper. It was the sonogram and he’d carried it in his flight suit ever since.

“Yeah but they didn’t need to break up over it.” Coyote grumbled, he never understood that if they loved each other and needed each other so much why they broke up.

Phoenix sighed, “They're just processing their grief differently and it's hard on both of them. She is just as broken up about this as he is.” Phoenix glared at her fellow aviator displeased.

“I know it's not her fault. I didn’t mean I like that. I can’t even begin to imagine what they’re going through,” he sighed. “I just hate seeing him like this.”

“We all do Javy,” Phoenix explained, “I just know that both of our friends are hurting and they need us.” She set the cue down on the pool table, abandoning the game. “I think I’m gonna call it a night. I’m gonna check in with her on my way home.”

Bob and Coyote waved her goodbye and watched as she placed a gentle hand on Jake’s back before leaving.

“You’re up Bob,” Coyote said, leaning across the table smirking as he took another shot.

“What!” Bob's expression resembled a deer in the headlights, a few peanuts escaping from the cup and rolling down his uniform.

“Well I spent all of last week helping him home and he was sick in my car. Do you know how long it took me to get the smell out?”

Bob's face crumpled a little and he wrinkled his nose at the thought of Jake vomiting in his car. He’d never really liked Jake, he had been a dick to him ever since their first meeting before the uranium mission and he always managed to find a way to pick on him. But looking at his fallen comrade now, Bob couldn’t have felt more sympathetic, he loved you both dearly and he felt your pain.

Having been as thick as thieves since your Top Gun training, you had started dating shortly after. You were the kind of couple that everyone wanted to be, so in sync with each other, you knew what the other would do before they had even thought of it. It was the kind of love Bob had always wanted, the kind of love from movies that he’d seen as a kid. He was convinced that you would get married after the uranium mission especially once you’d found out you were pregnant. Jake had been ecstatic and had even promised to make Bob the baby’s Godfather. He smiled at the thought of that day, everyone had been celebrating at the Hard Deck, even Mav was there raising a toast to the newest member of the Dagger Squad.

Bob’s face fell as he thought back to the fateful nights two weeks ago. It had been carnage. The couple had been in a car accident on the way back from a party and Maverick and Penny’s house. A drunk driver came out of nowhere and rammed them clean off the road. Jake came away mostly unscathed but you had taken a direct hit from the car on your side and was left with a broken collarbone and multiple broken ribs. The baby hadn’t survived and when you had both needed each other most you just couldn’t stand to see each other so hurt. After fighting like mad, eventually the doctors advised that Jake stopped coming to visit. That was the last time Jake had seen you and since that day spent most of the time at the bar drowning his sorrow.

Bob sighed, placing his empty cup of peanuts down and headed towards where Jake was sitting.

“Hey Bagman, mind if I sit here?” He gestured to the bar stall next to him. Jake mumbled something and Bob took that as an invitation to sit down. “What you got there.” Bob pointed towards his single glass that was no longer surrounded by others. Penny must have tidied up, Bob thought to himself.

“I don’t know,” Jake replied, expressionlessly.

“What do you mean you don’t know,” Bob asked worriedly. How much had he drunk?

“Well, Penny wanted to clean up the glasses so I poured it all into one.” He slurred, waving his hand over the glass. “I got whiskey and vodka. I think there’s some beer in there too and I had tequila. Oh, and I had a gin and tonic earlier too.”

“Shit Jake, what’s that a recipe for a ‘Hangman hangover?”

The other pilot snorted and downed the rest of the glass, pulling a face at the foul taste. He stood up from the bar stool, wobbling slightly and Bob grabbed his arm to support him. “Come on, Jake. Let’s get you home ok.”

“No Bobby, I don’t want to go home.” His lip began quivering as Bob carefully guided him out to his car and got him seated in the front seat. “Please don’t leave me, Bobby. I don’t want to be alone. Please don’t leave me.” He started sobbing into the sleeve of Bob’s jacket and Bob pulled him close. Jake gripped onto him like he was a life raft in the middle of the ocean and he didn’t want to let go. Bob could feel all the tension leaving Jake’s body as he cried, burying his head into the crook of Bob’s neck. The two men embraced like this for a while, neither wanting to let go too soon. When Jake eventually pulled away, he looked up at his fellow aviator with teary eyes. “Please can I come home with you, Bob? I promise not to be a dick to you and I'll try my best not to be sick in your car.” He hiccuped and for a moment Bob thought he looked like a child pleading with his parents, he looked so innocent.

“Sure thing Bud,” was all Bob could muster, helping Hangman swing his leg into the car and doing up his seat belt, before going round to the driver's side.

The drive home was quiet, Bob kept watching as Jake became more and more green but kept promising he wouldn’t be sick. When they reached Bob’s apartment, Jake was straight out of the car and vomited on the pavement outside his house. “I’m so sorry Bob,” he almost cried, continuing to wretch even though his stomach was empty.

“It’s fine Jake. Don’t worry.” Bob helped the other man up the drive and through the front door, aiming him straight for the bedroom. Jake collapsed onto Bob’s bed with a sigh while he went to retrieve a towel and bucket. When Bob returned Jake was asleep and he had to try and roll the larger man onto his side next to the bucket. He pulled off Jake’s shoes and his jeans, leaving him in his T-shirt and boxers. He looked so peaceful when he slept, Bob thought. He retreated to the door and was about to go out when Jake stirred. “Bob, will you stay with me for a while?” He called out softly. Bob stood in the doorway debating his options before agreeing and sitting beside Jake on the bed. Jake rolled over so that he had his head resting on Bob's leg. Bob tensed slightly unsure of what to do so he just sat with his arms crossed, listening as Jake talked.

“I’m so lost without her Bobby. She was my everything and we were so happy. I…” He sniffled and wiped his nose with his hand. “I don’t know what to do without her. I was a dickhead and I don’t know why. Everything just hurt so bad and I ended up losing both of them.” A steady stream of tears began following down his cheeks. Bob placed a gentle hand on the man’s shoulder, comfortingly. “I don’t know what to do.” Jake continued to talk quietly and Bob listened.

“Bob, can I get you to promise me something?” He looked up at him, the hurt evident in his eyes.

“Sure thing, Jake.”

“Promise me that if you ever love someone as much as I love her, promise me you’ll never let her go. Promise me, Bob.” More tears began to fall from Jake’s eyes and he lay his head back on Bob’s leg.

“I promise, Bagman.”

The two men continued to sit in silence until he could hear soft snores leaving Jake's mouth. He wriggled out from under his fellow pilot and made his way out of the room quietly. Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he called phoenix.

“Hey Bob,” she whispered when she answered.

“Hey Nat, I’m sorry I know it's late,” he began.

“No, it's fine. Don’t worry. She’s only just gone to sleep.” He could hear Phoenix shuffling around at the other end of the phone before her voice became louder.

“She’s a mess, Bob.”

“Bob sighed, “ Yeah, so is Jake. I’ve got him at my place and all he’s done is cry since we left the bar. I don’t know what to do?”

“We need to do something. I can't keep watching them go through this.” Phoenix sighed. “I think we need to get them to see each other again. To talk through everything.”

Bob agreed quietly, trying to think of a way they could get their two friends back together.

“How about you come by my place with Bagman tomorrow afternoon? I'll get her to come over and we can see if they’ll talk to each other.”

“That’s a good plan, Nat. Thanks.”

“No worries, Bobby. It’s a date.” She laughed at Bob tripping over his words on the other. “I’m joking, Bob. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Bob laughed awkwardly. “See you tomorrow, Nat.” The two pilots hung up the phone and Bob sat on the sofa. Maybe they could get Jake and you to work through this, after all, they had the kind of love from a movie.

Tag list: @callsign-phoenix @imjess-themess @blue-aconite @averyhotchner @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @a-reader-and-a-writer @topguncortez @luckyladycreator2 @ssprayberrythings @smoothdogsgirl @xoxabs88xox @maggiescarborough @callsignmaverick5 @alexxavicry @abaker74 @elenavampire21

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Oh man, this is your least requested? This is my favorite!

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️ ⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

OH HELL YEAH! THANKS!

306 or 1k for TWATYTK, whatever I hit first <3

---

He brings the process, as easily laid out as he can get it, to Eddie. 

“So we’d need an egg donor and likely an unrelated surrogate,” he explains. 

“Unrelated?” Eddie asks. 

“Mhm, so it’s not their baby,” Buck explains. “Not, like, a hundred percent necessary. Like, if it was someone volunteering to do both. But for a paid surrogate? No.”

“Got it,” Eddie nods. 

“So, egg donor. Then select a surrogate. Then get a notarized contract before any, uh, embryo transfer can happen.” 

Eddie nods again. “And then a baby?”

“And then a baby, if all goes well,” Buck confirms. “We’d just have to file a parentage order, for whichever one one of us isn’t the donor.”

“Well, okay. That’s pretty simple, then.” Eddie looks hopeful. 

“Yeah, theoretically,” Buck nods.

“But?” Eddie asks. 

“It’s all pretty expensive,” Buck says. “Even outside the medical coverage.”

“Like, more expensive than we can afford?” Eddie asks.

Buck sighs. “Potentially.”

☆☆☆

They don’t rush this next piece. Determining whether or not they can actually afford this route of expanding their family. Which is frustrating, because once they understand the process, Eddie finds he really does want it. 

They reach out to a few different organizations to request pricing information. It all sort of suspects what they confirm. It’s just a little bit out of reach. Especially with Chris being only a handful of years away from potentially choosing to go to college. And Eddie thinks he will. 

They meet with a financial advisor. Come up with a savings plan. But it’s going to be a while, if they do it this way. This isn’t something they’ll accomplish soon. 

Eddie can’t help but feel discouraged. He’d got that feeling he was being pointed in a certain direction. But maybe he was wrong. The disappointment bums him out for weeks, but he tries to suppress it. 

And then, just as easy as the news about the medical coverage, one of their other problems is solved. 

In April, Pepa has Eddie, Adriana, and their respective units over for a family dinner. And, in a very Pepa fashion, she is of course pressing Eddie for information about when they’re going to have another kid. The minute Eddie had mentioned it to her, back in February, it’s pretty much all she wants to discuss with him. Classic. Eddie appreciates her enthusiasm, he really does. However, it does rub a little salt in the wound. He can see that in the tightness of Buck’s expression, too. 

“Well, we aren’t sure,” Eddie says. “We’ve run into some snags with the cost that we’re working on.”

“Cost?” Pepa asks. 

“I thought benefits covered a decent chunk,” Ravi - who is of course always included now - chimes in. 

“Uh, they do,” Buck nods. “But there’s still a surrogate contract and paying for donor eggs.”

“Ew,” Christopher wrinkles his nose.

“Don’t say ew,” Pepa scolds. “You were an egg once, mijo.” 

This only has the effect of making Christopher look even more disgusted.

Adriana swallows her bite of chicken and shrugs. 

“Well, I can give you eggs,” she says casually. Like it’s not a wild and potentially life changing thing to say. 

Everyone turns to look at her with gaping mouths and wide eyes. 

“What?” She asks. “Why do you look so confused? You should have asked me, Eddie.”

“Adriana, that’s a big decision,” Eddie says. 

“Not really,” she says. “I’m not using them at the moment, and they kind of have an expiration date.”

“A-are you sure?” Buck asks. Eddie can hear the hope and gratitude in his voice. 

“Yeah,” Ravi adds. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” She insists, like she’s annoyed they need to question it. “Eddie, you and Buck did so much for me when I arrived in Los Angeles. And you know, Eddie, when we were kids. This is a way for me to say thank you.”

“Adri, there was never anything owing from any of that,” Eddie says. “You’re my sister.”

“And you’re my brother,” she says. “Let me help you.”

Eddie looks at Buck. Buck looks so… So much like he’s very excited but doesn’t want to say anything. No pressure on either Eddie or Adriana. But Eddie can almost read his mind. Maybe, because if he steps aside from his worries for his sister, he sees exactly what Buck is excited about. A child genetically related to both of them. That just became significantly easier to afford.

“Adriana, it would be your biological child,” Pepa interjects. “That’s not a small consideration.”

“I understand that,” Adriana replies. “I’ll get to be their aunt, won’t I? And it’s not like I’m carrying them. No offense, Eddie. I am not getting pregnant for you.”

This distinction actually makes Eddie feel a hell of a lot better. She has a clear boundary. Something she’s comfy with, something she isn’t. If this was all motivated by guilt or a sense of owing, she may not. But maybe… Maybe she just really wants to help. 

“If you’re really comfortable with it,” Eddie says, emotion sitting tight in his throat. “Then we’d be extremely grateful.”

Buck beams. “Thank you, Adriana. Seriously.”

Adriana winks at him. “Let’s make a baby, Buck.”

Buck turns red. Eddie sighs. 

“Or don’t say that,” Ravi says. 

“Adriana,” Pepa sounds long-suffering.

“Wait,” Chris says. “So the baby will be my brother and my cousin? That’s weird.”

🗲🗲🗲

It’s really Adriana’s incredible offer of this gift to them that sets things into motion. Buck gets really emotional about it actually. Has a good, teary conversation with Eddie at, like, one in the morning one evening about the incredible role sisters have played in his life. Maddie. Adriana. Even Hen, really. He doesn’t know Sophia too well but he bets she’s great, too. 

Nothing happens overnight, of course. It’s still an uncertain process. They still need a surrogate, and Buck’s research shows that the pre-screening and hormone treatment process for Adriana to donate eggs is extensive and potentially lengthy. Like, maybe six-months.