#asking because i have less than three weeks left until october

[cuntressgoingdigital]

BAD HABIT | abby anderson x reader - college au!!

free palestine! click this link for more info

synopsis: you catch abby's eye during class and she becomes determined to make you her's. unfortunately, she can't bring herself to just outright admit her feelings, forcing herself through weeks of yearning and agony.

notes: i have been sitting on this since early october. finally finished it up! gets kinda rambly midway through. can you tell i love writing abby as a gay loser? titled after bad habit by steve lacy :P

cw: 18+ content MDNI, reader referred to as a girl, alcohol ment, dom! reader (if you squint), inexperienced! abby, no smut technically (but def not sfw), abby doesn't know how to communicate

word count: 4.9k

it was abby’s final year of college. she was finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. the last three years had been a horrendous rollercoaster of trials and tribulations. all of her classes were rigorous and extremely involved. it felt like she never slept, ate, or had any time to herself. she had a couple friends, but nothing too serious. in reality, they were probably closer to acquaintances. she made the mistake of following her boyfriend halfway across the country to attend the same college as him. all of her friends were his friends and their breakup, while semi-amicable, set her back as far as friendships go. 

it wasn’t that she wasn’t good at making friends, she just didn’t have the time. making friends in your senior year of college was its own special beast. nobody wants to go out of their way to foster new friendships because of their temporary nature. everyone was applying for grad school, hoping to get as far away from home as possible. living off campus isolates you, ripping you away from the forced community that comes with living in a dormitory.

none of that mattered. abby was perfectly fine by her lonesome.

she had never felt compelled to establish a connection until she stepped foot into her french romantic literature class. everyone called it a gimme class. do the readings, write your reviews and reports, easy A. it was a low level class and she needed the elective credit, so why not? it was an 8AM, but she had dealt with worse. 

she was setting up her ipad and pencil when she felt someone brush past the back of her chair. she looked up and suddenly she couldn’t breathe. she swears she had never seen a girl more beautiful than you. it felt like one of those cheesy rom coms where all the sound in the room dropped out, the entire world slowed, and your smile lit up the room. 

“sorry!” you whispered, making your way a few chairs down and getting as comfortable as possible on those horrid plastic chairs. 

every day for two weeks she just watched you from afar. abby perked up every time you raised your hand to give insight on that week’s readings. you were intimidatingly smart. everything you said, she couldn’t have possibly come up with. she hadn’t missed a single day of class so far. 

but, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t think of a single thing to say to you. a simple “hi, nice to meet you” wouldn’t cut it. she didn’t want to come off as creepy or nonchalant. she needed a plan. 

one day you had left your bag open on your desk and abby caught a glimpse of a novel. it wasn’t one of the books that was required reading for class. was it a leisure read? immediately, she looked up the title and read the synopsis. 

she couldn’t fathom any way to make a book sound less interesting.

alas, at this point she was committed. 

that afternoon, during a small break between classes, she made her way to the library. after wandering on one of the floors for too long, she finally found the novel in question. the plan was to read it, hope that you left your bag open again, and ask about it after class. simple enough. 

she took the elevator down to the first floor and brought the book up to the check out desk. there was no one behind the desk and she wondered if she should come back later.

“sorry!” 

abby knew that voice. 

you sauntered out from the hidden staff area behind the desk. abby felt stupid for letting her crush affect her like this. her face was hot, she had to make a concerted effort to breathe evenly, and suddenly she forgot how to socialize. all she could do was stiffly set the book on the desk. 

“aren’t you in my class? french romantic lit, right?” you took the book in your hands and flipped it to the back cover to scan the barcode on the corner. 

“uh, yeah. i think so?” she had never felt more awkward in her life, sliding her student ID across the desk. 

“well, it’s nice to meet you…” you pick up the plastic card and read over it. “abby.”

there was a quiet beep and abby stood there awkwardly trying to think of something to say. “have you read this book before?” she blurted out. “i just…the reviews seemed to be pretty split. people either love it or hate it, y’know?”

a smile stretched across your face. you were clearly more than delighted to give your thoughts, recommendations for other books, and authors who had a similar writing style. abby thought your enthusiasm was adorable. she had absolutely no clue what you were talking about, but was happy you got to share your ideas with her. 

she cleared her throat. “i guess i’ll give you my thoughts after class one day?” 

you nod excitedly. “i would really love that.” 

abby collected her items and turned on her heel to leave the library. she felt accomplished, only to realize a few moments later,

fuck. 

she didn’t even ask for your name. 

that night abby started the novel. she was determined to finish before she saw you again on wednesday. homework was suddenly tossed onto the backburner. her childish crush took precedent. for the next day and a half she did nothing but read this novel, even going as far as making annotations and talking points for you. 

she woke up bright and early on wednesday. the sun was hanging lowly in the sky. she couldn’t go back to sleep even if she wanted to. she drug her body out of bed and pulled on a black tshirt and grey sweatpants for her early morning workout. she preferred to get her workout out of the way during the early morning hours to avoid the crowd of people in her apartment’s rec center and lower her chances of social interaction. 

her workout was a little more rushed than usual. she wanted to make sure she looked well put together when she approached you after class. she was meticulous with her shower routine, pairing the scent of her body wash with her lotions and deodorant. pine and amber with a hint of lavender. next was her hair that she braided and re-braided at least three times in front of her slightly fogged up bathroom mirror. she peeked at her phone and noticed it was way later than she thought. she ripped a black short sleeve button up and olive green corduroy pants off of their hanger and slipped on some shoes before she ran off to the bus stop.

she made it into the classroom right as the professor was reading off the first slide. the feeling of several pairs of eyes on her was unbearable. 

for the entire seventy five minutes of class she could only stare at you. you were feverishly typing on your laptop while also scribbling something down in your notebook. the clock seemed to tick slower than usual. 

“alright, that covers everything i wanted to address today. i’ll let y’all out a few minutes early. go enjoy the weather outside.” 

abby couldn’t pack up faster. she prayed you weren’t in any kind of rush. 

“hey!” 

abby spun around to see your face. thank god, you had approached her. this eliminated the possibility of her chickening out. 

“oh, hey!” this had thrown off abby’s entire script. “sorry i ran off yesterday. i didn’t catch your name?”

you chuckled at the realization. you hadn’t noticed either. after you properly introduced yourself, abby offered a “nice to officially meet you.”

you waste no time getting to your initial reason for approaching her. “did you start the book?” 

the sound of your voice had butterflies swarming about in her stomach. 

“yeah, i finished it actually.”

you slung your backpack over your shoulders. “which way are you going?” 

the two of you set off in the direction of the coffee shop on campus. abby went over her talking points and luckily you two shared a lot of the same ideas about the themes and writing style of the book. abby made a mental note to read more of your recommendations. 

the coffee shop was coming up on the horizon and abby had already completely derailed her walk to her next class. she had to wrap this up.

“did you maybe wanna study together sometime? you looked really into today’s lecture.” was that a weird thing to say? now it sounded like she was watching your every move.

she was. 

but, that wasn’t your business. 

“oh god, no. i hated this week’s reading. way too dense and the translation was clunky.” your head dropped in embarrassment. “i was actually playing sudoku.” 

god, you were the cutest thing. 

“dinner, then?” she ground her fingernails into the fabric of her backpack straps. “i just think it would be nice to have someone to talk about the homework with.” there was a beat of silence and immediately she felt the need to backtrack “it’s okay if not! i’m sure you’re busy and all.”

“dinner sounds fun! i can do tonight? maybe around seven?”

the two of you exchanged phone numbers and abby said a quick goodbye before rushing off in the opposite direction, praying she wasn’t late to her next class. 

you mentally high fived yourself. you had only made one friend during your time at college and that was your first year dorm roommate. she was great and all, but a senior with only one friend felt sort of pathetic. you were positive the two of you only ended up being friends because of your forced close proximity. you both loved each other to death, but you weren’t so sure you would have found each other otherwise. 

this time you made a friend all on your own. well, maybe you two weren’t quite friends yet, but you’d try your damndest to make your friendship status official. she was nice enough so far. 

and really pretty. 

like, really pretty. 

an hour or so later, abby sent a text with a link to a restaurant menu. you couldn’t help but open the message immediately. 

abby a.: is this good? 

you clicked on the link and your eyes grew wide. this was one of the places you would only eat at for special occasions. the cheapest entree was thirty dollars. there was no way you could afford that. you were a full time student living off of your need based scholarship and the meager wages you received from your work study job. if you looked you would probably see double digits in your checking account. 

you: this looks rlly nice but idk if i’ll be able to afford it 

you: i’m srry!!

before you could lock your phone, the grey bubble appeared again.

abby a.: don’t worry i invited you. i’ll grab the check. 

the idea of being indebted to her made you uneasy, but you couldn’t bring yourself to disagree with her. you didn’t want to seem high maintenance. 

your 8AM was your only class of the day, so in normal fashion you gallivanted around campus and sat in front of the library, people watching, until your shift started. the older woman who worked the same desk shift as you helped you on the daily crossword, forcing the time to pass faster. 

it was a little more than an hour before you and abby were supposed to meet up when your phone vibrated. 

abby a.: i’ll pick you up. send me your address.

you had fully intended to take the twenty minute bus ride over to the restaurant. you knew the bus routes like the back of your hand on account of you not owning a car. it wasn’t as bad as everyone made it out to be. 

abby pulled up at 7PM on the dot. once you received the “outside” text you grabbed your bag from it’s designated hook near the door. 

“where ya goin’?”

you looked back to see your best friend and roommate, liz. 

“dinner.”

“like a date?”

“nah. just some girl from my class.” your hand reached for the doorknob and pulled the door open. “i’ll see you!”

“have fun. make good choices!” she called out before you could shut the door behind you. 

you peered around the parking lot, trying to find her car. you pulled your phone from your bag and unlocked it, preparing to call abby to play hot and cold until you found her. then, you heard a voice call your name. 

abby was hanging out the sunroof of her car, waving at you. you approached her car and caught the brand sigil on the front grille. it was a BMW. you didn’t know much about cars, but you knew those were expensive. you opened the doors to see a custom leather interior and a high tech touch screen on the center console. it felt like you weren’t even allowed to sit down in this car. 

“hey, sorry it’s kind of messy.” 

there were maybe a dozen crumbs on the floor mats and a couple straw wrappers in the cup holder. 

“if this is messy for you, you’d hate to see my room.” you awkwardly tried to laugh off the tension you felt. “nice car.” 

abby moved the gear shift into drive and started to pull out of the parking lot. “yeah, it’s an early graduation present. i was hoping for something a little more practical. like a subaru or something.” she immediately bit her tongue. she probably sounded so stuck up right now. “i mean, this is perfectly fine! i just…what if i have some furniture to move, y’know?” 

smooth recovery.

“no, no i get it!” you, in fact, did not get it. you would kill to be able to drive yourself across town and not have to haul your groceries along with you on the bus. 

abby’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. “you can take aux if you want.” she motioned to the wire hanging out of the charging port. 

this was one of the worst things you could ever hear. now you had to carefully curate a few songs to last the duration of the short drive. shuffling your liked songs would surely end in embarrassment and you couldn’t tell what music abby would be into. you haphazardly queued a couple songs and analyzed every change in abby’s face, trying to decipher whether she liked the songs or not. to your delight she began humming along to one of the songs. 

“didn’t expect you to be into this sort of music.”

abby shrugged. “i’m full of surprises, i guess.” 

you made small talk about your major and your class load for the semester. all of the typical stuff you go over with anyone you meet in a college town. then, you discussed plans for grad school.

“i think i’m gonna take a year or two off and travel for a while. see the world and all that.” you picked up on the way abby’s eyes sparkled when she talked about it. 

“what are you gonna do about money and stuff?” finally, you had an excuse to ask how rich she was.

“my dad’s a neurosurgeon. he rolled right through undergrad into medical school with no time off. he wants me to take some time and find myself. make sure i’m committed to whatever my next step is.” 

you wordlessly nodded. the puzzle pieces fell into place. now you were almost embarrassed about not being well off. what could you possibly have in common with some uppity rich girl?

once the two of you started talking over dinner, it seemed like you actually had a lot in common. you both held a passion for the same movies, had slight overlap with your music taste, and held similar political beliefs. you had judged her a little too fast. you let her go on about her coin collection and in exchange she let you beak into a tangent about your hobbies. before you knew it one of the servers came up to your table. 

“hey folks, i brought the check over for you. take your time.”

you were mortified when you saw it was thirty minutes after close. if your server hadn’t practically run off you would’ve offered an apology. 

you instinctively peeked at the check and saw three digits. your shock must’ve been obvious as abby snatched the receipt holder from you. 

“i told you, i’ve got it.” she put down a heavy metal card and you were once again reminded about the difference in your tax brackets. 

dinner had gone so well it became a weekly endeavor. every wednesday you met up with her so she could show you a couple different spots around town. every time she paid the bill before you could even say anything. whenever you mentioned wanting to read some newly released book that the library hadn’t ordered yet, she would shyly present it to you the next time you two saw each other. weekly dinner dates turned into coffee dates between classes, which turned into study dates at home. she learned your coffee order and work schedule so she could occasionally pop into the library while you were working and deliver you a treat. you became inseparable rather quickly. often walking hand in hand across campus after your seminar. 

liz caught you smiling at your phone and peered over your shoulder. 

“hey, hey! what happened to privacy?” you scolded. 

liz looked you up and down. “what’s going on between you two? always texting, always facetiming, always hanging out.”

“nothing! we’re just friends.” 

it was clear she didn’t believe you. “there’s no fucking way y’all are ‘just friends’.” 

“i can be just friends with a girl!” 

“mhm. sure, sure.” liz left you to study (read: spend your entire night texting back and forth with abby). 

that night when you laid in bed, you finally gave your relationship some thought. were you two “just friends”? you were used to burying your semi-romantic thoughts about your female friends. that had been your MO ever since you discovered you were gay. you tried not to think about abby in that way. you were so excited to make a new friend, you couldn’t bear potentially ruining things with those thoughts. 

you two were just close friends. that’s it.

that’s all it would ever be. 

abby a.: goodnight see you in the morning <3

unbeknownst to you, abby was also spiraling about your relationship. had the little heart been too much? she was trying so hard to be subtle. either you were completely uninterested or she wasn’t being obvious enough. what was she supposed to say? “i think i have a crush on you” was way too forward. what if you didn’t feel the same way? now she would look like an idiot and have to bear the next couple months showing up to the same class as you three times a week. 

even worse, you were the first girl abby had ever properly pursued. her breakup with owen forced her to finally contemplate if she ever actually loved him. well, of course she loved him, but was she ever in love with him? after a month she had decided it had never been the latter. that had been nearly a year ago and in that time she had never actually made an effort to seek a relationship with anyone romantically. she made out with girls at parties, hooked up with one girl months ago, but this was different. she wanted your dinner dates to be real dates. to sleep with you in her arms. post you on her story with a caption that said ‘my girlfriend is so beautiful’. 

how the fuck was she going to make this work?

she laid awake drafting different text messages and formulating different scenarios where it would be appropriate for her to confess to you. 

that weekend abby invited you over for a sleepover. nothing too crazy. just wine, takeout, and a movie. the hour it took for you to respond was possibly the worst hour of her life.

you: omg sounds fun!! i’ll finish up my work at 8?

abby breathed a sigh of relief. she spent the next several hours stress cleaning. her entire house was pristine by the time she was meant to pick you up. 

confessing to you over text almost felt disrespectful. the wine would compensate for her intense fear of rejection. if you didn’t reciprocate, she’d just politely call you an uber and that would be that. the prospect of ignoring her feelings for you until the end of the semester trumped her fear of having to be in the same classroom with a girl who rejected her. 

she just couldn’t take it anymore. 

when she pulled into the driveway of your apartment she saw that you were already waiting outside, a small duffel bag in hand. 

you happily trotted over to her car and hopped in. the seat was perfectly adjusted for you as always. you took over aux without abby prompting you to. 

you always got the passenger princess treatment. 

abby listened to you tell her every intricate detail of your day. the dog you got to pet on campus, how the coffee shop messed up your order and you were too scared to tell them, and the crossword you weren’t able to finish because your usual coworker wasn’t on shift. 

while she was happy to listen to you, all she could think about was the fact that this may be the last time she got to hear your daily musings. 

“you okay, babe?” 

the hairs on the back of her neck always stood up when she heard you call her that. 

“i’m fine. just thinking about this assignment i forgot to finish.”

“i can help you when we get home. as long as it’s not your orgo chem class. you’re on your own with that.”

no matter how hard you tried to ignore it, you could feel the tension in the air. something was off, but you couldn’t tell what. abby was speaking less and just seemed out of it in general. every time you asked if she was okay it was always the same 

“i’m okay. don’t worry.”

you brush it off and carry on with the night as if all was normal. you ordered chinese food from your favorite hole in the wall restaurant and plopped down on her couch. it took you thirty minutes to decide on a movie, the two of you debating the pros and cons of every option. it didn’t take long for the food to be delivered and after abby gave you permission to eat on the couch you dug into your food.

“is this your first meal of the day?” abby knew you were terrible at taking care of yourself. not that she was much better.

“shut up.” you uttered through the food in your mouth. 

a few minutes into the movie, abby offers you a blanket which you eagerly take. you rest your legs over her lap and lay back against one of the throw pillows. abby almost felt wrong touching you. she had plans to irrevocably change your relationship before the night was over. 

would you be able to stay friends with her after?

“do you want wine? i figured rosé would be a safe choice.” 

you affirmatively hummed, prompting abby to rush off into her dark kitchen. she just needed a few moments to breathe. 

“can i ask a stupid question?” you called from the living room. 

abby felt the need to dry heave. “maybe.” was all she could offer as a response.

there was a few moments of uncertain silence before you spoke again. “liz is convinced we’re like…dating, or something? is there something going on between us?” 

you were always so forward. it was a trait of yours that abby admired. except this time. 

like the day you first spoke after class, you had completely derailed her scripts and scenarios.

“i…don’t know?” the question had her hands shaking so bad she couldn’t pull the cork out of the wine bottle. 

you hummed once more. “i don’t know either.”

the movie filled the uneasy silence between the two of you. abby was panicking and you surprisingly weren’t. 

“i think i like you.” you were the first to break the silence. “wait, that sounded really childish. i just…you know what i mean.” 

finally, abby could exhale. 

“i’m sorry. did i make things weird?” 

abby rushed back into the living room and saw you cocooned in her blanket, partially shielding your face from her.

“holy fuck. no, no!” she tripped over her words, trying to skip to whatever part of the script she intended to use for this exact moment. finally, she cleared her throat. “that’s kind of why i approached you the first time. i mean, i’m glad we became friends!” once again, she felt the need to backtrack. “when i first saw you in class i thought you were really pretty. i’ve been trying to work up the nerve to say this from the first time we met.” 

you finally met her gaze. abby was shocked to hear you giggle. “that’s sweet.” you reached out for her, beckoning her to come sit next to you. “i wish i had known. you’re always acting so mysterious about your feelings.” you teased. 

you sat up and loosely wrapped your arms around her shoulders. “so…was your plan to corner me here and bombard me with your confession?”

“okay, it sounds weird when you say it like that.” how had you read her intentions so accurately?

“i don’t hear any denial.” abby refused to answer. she had suffered enough tonight. “enlighten me, what was your plan if i said i liked you back?” 

abby shrugged. she really hadn’t expected to get this far. she spent more time planning for a rejection than reciprocity. 

you leaned into her. “well, i think you should kiss me.” 

abby had been dreaming of this moment. quite literally. whenever she had vaguely scandalous dreams it was always about you. she’d wanted this for so long and here she was awkwardly fumbling as she pressed her lips against yours. 

you delicately brushed a few fly away hairs behind her ear and leaned into the kiss. you could feel the hesitance in abby’s body language and knew you’d have to be the captain of the ship for the time being. you closed the space between the two of you, now chest to chest. 

“you don’t have to be nervous.” you whispered in her ear while you moved to straddle her lap. 

abby placed her hands firmly at your hips, finally working up the courage to just touch you. the movie was long forgotten when she lost herself in your kiss. her hand made it halfway up your shirt before she broke the kiss. 

“is that okay?” 

you giggled against her lips. “yeah, have at it.” 

the joking tone eased her mind and emboldened her. her hand found its way fully under the fabric of your shirt, cupping your left breast. her thumb brushed against your nipple, making you sharply inhale. you grinded down against her crotch and abby whimpered against your lips. 

you couldn’t tell how much time had passed. the both of you were feeling sensitive and hot all over. you were desperate to draw those sweet mewls out of her. 

“okay, fuck this movie.” all at once you pulled away from her. abby looked like she could’ve cried at your sudden absence. “do you wanna…like…”

“yeah,” she took a moment to catch her breath. “yeah. the bedroom is this way.” she took your hand and led you past the kitchen to her bedroom that was bathed in moonlight from the wall length windows. she rushed to close the curtains before she pulled her shirt off, revealing her black sports bra. you took her hand and collapsed against her bed, tugging her down with you. 

your fingers reached for the string of her sweatpants, working them down her thighs and tossing them to the side. 

“have you done this before?” you whispered in between kisses to her neck and collarbones. 

“sort of. a while ago.” 

“well i’m happy to give you a refresher course.” you flipped abby onto her back so you could be on top. “just relax.” you hooked your fingers into the waistband of her boxers and pulled her thighs apart. 

the sex lasted for an absurdly long time. for a beginner, abby was surprisingly adept. she was a quick learner. by the end of it, neither of you had the energy to go back to the movie. you slept soundly in her arms, not even bothering to redress. 

the next morning you were harshly pulled from your sleep by an alarm. it was saturday. there was no way it was your phone. 

abby shot straight up in bed and hastily pulled her phone off of the nightstand. 

“fuck. i’m sorry. i forgot i have rugby practice.” she leapt out of bed and started digging through her closet for fresh workout clothes. “for the record, i had plans to make you breakfast and everything. the whole nine yards.”

you stretched out in her bed, missing her warmth. “oh, i’m sure.”

[ladybrythwensinclair]

Hello world.

It has been a long, hard slog to get to this point, but I am doing so much better than I was this time last year, six months ago, or three months ago. I still haven't made peace with the fact that I am disabled due to mental illness (bipolar II & CPTSD) but the last year or so has forced me to accept it. I was struggling so hard with depression over the last long while that I kinda forgot what it was like to feel ok. In the midst of that struggle, I learned that my father had lymphoma and that my father in law is dying of liver disease. That just made it harder to bear. I suppose one could describe it as a double dip depressive episode, but I didn't come up for air until late October. That was when things went sideways. My father in law started making noises about not doing Thanksgiving with the family. So, the rest of the family (that being his children and their spouses) set to making arrangements where my husband's parents didn't need to host or cook anything. At which point, my father in law NOPES any sort of family get together out of existence, bullies a family friend into hosting him and his wife (along with my brother in law, you'll find out why in a second) for Thanksgiving, and the rest of us are left to hang. This lead to a great deal of anger and anguish on the part of pretty much everyone else. My mother in law is not as mobile as she used to be and requires assistance getting around. She was uncomfortable enough with the whole mess that she wanted to leave but my brother in law wasn't able to do that with out leaving his father behind. The family friends were uncomfortable and markedly elsewhere when it came to the rest of the holiday season. My father in law continued on blithely in this sullen behavior until he almost died right before Christmas. His near death was prevented by the quick thinking of his sons. The man has changed his behavior to some extent because of it all. A week in the hospital having ammonia drained from your body apparently is an experience and a half. He is still something of a passive aggressive bully but he's not ignoring his health or insisting that he can do whatever he wants with out repercussions. Instead of that, he's actively asking for help and reaching out to his children for help in caring for himself and his wife. This has lead to our lives becoming much more busy. I'd have been posting weeks before now (because my doctor figured out the right cocktail to make my brain hate me less) but between the things we've been doing for my parents in law and things I've been doing for my children's long term welfare, there's been no time. Getting resources lined up to help my autistic children be more successful adults has gone from 0 to 60 in 0.02 seconds. Somewhere in the midst of the chaos with my parents in law, my children got accepted into programs to help them thrive. I also received news that my father is in remission. So, things are turning a corner. I dare to say that they are improving to some extent. I can say that I will be back to posting more regularly in the near future. My depression isn't cured but in remission like my father's cancer. I can't say that in 8 months I'll be healthy and declared cured, like my father would be if he remains in remission. But I can say that I am going to do my best to be here. If you got this far, congratulations. Long post is long. Blessed be.

[alliluyevas]

extremely nerdy statistics-based Mormonposting incoming:

So, I was examining some data about Brigham Young's wives and children, as you do, and I came to a very interesting realization about two of his wives, Lucy Decker and Emily Partridge, having quite strikingly parallel childbearing history. I'm going to just list their kids in bulletpoint and then analyze the two sets of data together because I think that will make the most visual sense.

Both women had seven children with Brigham Young. (Lucy also had two children with her first husband, but I'm only discussing kids fathered by Young in this analysis).

Lucy married Brigham Young as his first plural wife in June 1842, when she was twenty years old and he was forty-one. Their children were:

Heber (born in June 1845)

Fanny (January 1849)

Ernest (April 1851)

Shamira (March 1853)

Arta (April 1855)

Feramorz (September 1858)

Clarissa (July 1860)

Emily married BY in September 1844. She was either his fifth, sixth, or seventh plural wife (he married three different women in that month and we don't know the exact date of Emily's marriage). She was also twenty and he was forty-three. Their children were:

Edward (born October 1845)

Emily (March 1849)

Caroline (February 1851)

Don Carlos (May 1855)

Miriam (October 1857)

Josephine (February 1860)

Lura (April 1862)

As you can see, five pairs of these two women's children were born very close to each other (Heber + Edward four months apart, Fanny + Emily about six weeks apart, Caroline + Ernest also about six weeks apart, Arta + Don Carlos three weeks apart, and Josephine + Clarissa five months apart). Three of these pairs are extremely close in age, and in all five cases Lucy and Emily's pregnancies would have overlapped. I thought this was very interesting and also seems pretty statistically unlikely, but they seem to have been on what I will call a synced-up childbirth schedule for lack of a better term.

In general, both women are having children approximately every two years, give or take a few months, but there are a couple notable exceptions, including the one instance in which their childbirth schedules get really off track.

Lucy's Heber and Emily's Edward were the first two Young children born to plural wives, and the only ones born before the majority of the church left Nauvoo in early spring 1846. For the next two and a half years, Emily, Lucy, and their husband were mostly either on the road or living out of tents, wagons, and makeshift shacks. For most of 1847, Brigham was actually absent because he was part of the "vanguard pioneer company" that first reached the Salt Lake Valley and most of his wives were still back in Nebraska. I'm guessing this is why there is a larger than average gap (about three and a half years) between both boys and their younger sisters. Once they reach Utah, another sibling joins each woman's family in short order.

This is where the timelines diverge the most significantly. Lucy continues to give birth about every two years until her late thirties. Emily's third and fourth children, on the other hand, are more than four years apart. In November 1852, Emily's three children became seriously ill and seven-year-old Eddie sadly died. Afterwards, Emily, who seems to have felt that she was parenting and then grieving alone without any emotional support from her husband, wrote to Brigham asking for a divorce. It's unclear how he responded, but they stayed married. I'm guessing it took time to reconcile, and this is why Emily's childbirth pattern "skips" a period where Lucy continued to have pretty evenly spaced children, before getting back on the same general track when they both have sons less than a month apart in 1855.

Emily has her remaining children about one every 2.5 years and, like Lucy, has her last child at age 38. Having tracked this, I think it's very interesting, because you can see both how their childbearing trajectory conformed both to their own general pattern and to the patterns of the other, and also some pretty glaring anomalies that are probably connected to different dynamics in Emily and Lucy's respective marriages. Also, in terms of the social dynamics of polygamous marriage--it must have be weird to get pregnant and this other woman is immediately like "oh me too" and this happens five times. (Many of the other plural wives had a lot fewer children than either Emily or Lucy, and more seemingly "random" child spacing, so you don't really get any other instances where the same two women are repeatedly giving birth around the same time to this extent).

[steddie-island]

I was going to put this in the notes but you know what? Nah. I keep wanting to talk about it and then backing off but like. Nah today, y'all get to hear about what happened last year because this shit is important.

To try to keep a long story short (and get to the point that actually has something to do with OP's post) we're going to do as much of a speedrun as we can for what happened to me last year. I'm not known for being able to condense things super well but we're gonna try anyway!

In April I had a massive bleeding episode that landed me in the hospital. I thought it was just a heavy period, I have PCOS and was used to those, but nah. It was Bad. They gave me medicine, it slowed down until I ran out and had another (though less severe) episode. I was put on birth control but every month the bleeding was just so heavy and the pain so severe I could barely leave my house.

After I stood up in the bathroom one day and then literally had to rest my forehead against the wall to keep from passing out I decided to do some research, then went to urgent care three times trying to say "Hey I think I'm severely anemic, these are my symptoms, can you check this?" One of those visits ended with me going to the hospital for the second time that year in a trip that could have been avoided if the doctor looking me over had just fucking asked what birth control I'm on. But he didn't.

I finally called a doctor's office a friend had recommended to me because no one else was listening. I got in to a woman who not only listened to me and believed me when I told her that I was anemic, she apologized for the way I had been medically mistreated not just as a woman but as a fat patient. She did tests, found out that yes, I was severely anemic. We started doing iron transfusions and looking into what had happened.

Turns out I had a fibroid in my uterus that made any other treatments for heavy periods pretty much useless. She sent me to a surgeon to talk about me getting a hysterectomy. The consult went great, I left crying happy tears because I was finally being listened to and wouldn't have to deal with severe pain and bleeding for the rest of my life.

Fast forward to October. I had requested the time off work, made all the arrangements that needed to be made. I was hooked to an IV, scrubbed up, ready to go back to the OR. There were last minute changes that had to be made regarding how the surgery would be handled. Something that was supposed to be a one day outpatient thing ended up being a 2 night stay in the hospital. It was a much more difficult recovery, I had to take an extra week unpaid from work because it was genuinely a much more traumatizing experience than expected, and I hadn't had any time at all to prepare.

My doctor reached out to check up on me after a week. I explained the last minute changes, and how I had felt like I was an afterthought when this man had to go in and cut me open, and he couldn't even tell me for sure later what all had been done/ removed. (He literally said they "may have" left part of my cervix in. Like???)

My doctor was pissed. She started filing complaints with the hospital. They told her that the complaints really needed to come from me and she said basically said "bullshit this patient is in my care and this isn't her responsibility, she came to me and I'm going to help with this." And she did. She called, and complained, and she got him on the phone to get me the answers that he couldn't give me the day of my surgery.

She was nice, but he still got a dressing down, and she told me recently that she could tell he was very humbled by the feedback she had passed along. She's also stopped recommending any of her patients go to him, at least for the time being. She hasn't sent anyone to him since my debacle in October.

I love my doctor, and I trust her with my life (literally.) And whether they do it politely the way I know my PCP did, or if they're yelling at each other the way the post says? Fuck yes, this should be normalized.

Doctors should have to listen to their patients. Doctors should fucking believe their patients. And if they aren't listening, and believing? Then yeah, they should get knocked down a few pegs when someone does finally figure it out.

Doctors should snark at each other more, be a bit mean. Not for no reason, mind you. But if five doctors blow me off about symptoms and doctor number six FINALLY runs actual tests and gets a diagnosis, I think it should be Doctor Six's right to call up the other five and tell them they're lazy pieces of shit. That should be socially encouraged. Those first five doctors clearly can't listen to patients, but maybe another doctor might finally get to them.

[keratoconusgroup]

Some RGP Questions

Hi, I had some concerns regarding RGPs I was hoping you guys could help me out with. Background: I have somewhat severe astigmatism (-1.75 in both eyes), along with fairly bad myopia (-6 in my left, -2 or so in my right). Back in 2021/2022, I was experiencing ghosting (a "shadow" on bright text and the like, along with starbursts on lights) with my glasses, and went back-and-forth several times getting new pairs of glasses. Unfortunately, my issues weren't resolved. One optometrist suggested I might have keratoconus, so I went to my opthamologist, who said it didn't seem likely. He said to get RGP lenses, and I ended up ordering contact lenses from my optometrist (LensCrafters) but being unable to put them in despite several sessions. I gave up then, and continued dealing with the ghosting problems. I'm posting in this sub because many people here also have RGPs. Fast forward to October/November of this year, I decided to give contacts another chance. I was told to try soft contacts first, which I did, but I found that they rotated way too much, giving me blurry vision most of the time. I then ordered RGPs after that, which took about 3 weeks. My initial impressions were favorable, and it was surprisingly painless. However, I began noticing that my right lens wasn't nearly as clear as the left lens, despite my left lens having worse astigmatism and myopia. Left lens was quite stable and clear, and I liked it, but the right lens was being very problematic. It was inconsistent, and blurry even when it was stable. My doctor ordered a new right lens, tighter to account for edge lift, after giving me a fluorescein test. I switched back to glasses until the new lens arrived. After about 6 weeks, the new right lens came in (about a week ago). My doctor once again did the fluorescein test, and said the edge lift was better now. However, I'm still experiencing noticeably worse vision in my right eye compared to my left. It seems less stable, and less sharp when it's in place. My current guess based on what I'm experiencing is that it needs to be tighter to account for edge lift and I need a prescription update, whether it's myopia or astigmatism. I've been adapting well to them, but still have these issues. I've been able to wear them for like 8-9 hours max so far. Questions: Did I make a mistake by getting my lenses at LensCrafters? I believe my location has one other RGP patient, but overall, I doubt my doctors have a lot of experience with RGPs. To be clear, there's three different optometrists, but there's one who I've been seeing for my last few appointments. I guess he's the one who's the most experienced with RGPs. There's a private practice nearby, and online it says that the doctors are "experienced with contact lens and specialty contact lens fitting (RGPs, multifocals/bifocals and keratoconus)" so I wonder if I should go there instead. I asked my doctor about this, and he says he does in fact have experience with RGPs. Are my issues expected, and resolvable? A lot of the time, I can see the edges of my lenses, indicating that they're no longer in place properly. Additionally, they seem to slip a lot sometimes. I was able to wear them happily for most of the day yesterday, but today I've been noticing them slip a lot leading to ghosting and haloing. My right lens moreso than my left - there are times when I can see the whole periphery of the lens in my vision, and it becomes extremely blurry at times. I find myself blinking a lot to clear up my vision, rather than for pain. Am I cleaning them right? I was just given a small bottle of Boston Simplus and told to use it. So far I've been placing the lenses in the case with Simplus overnight. Also, if they fall or something, I put the lens in my palm with a few drops of solution and rub it to clean. I read somewhere that I need to use protein cleaner, but my doctor never mentioned this. Any general advice or experience? I guess I should now… https://www.reddit.com/r/Keratoconus/comments/18sgs4x/some_rgp_questions/?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[redskiez]

Anyone have any recommendations on music that’s suitable for writing? Something that will make me focus all 100% of my attention to writing.

[watchmegetobsessed]

Risk it - Harry Styles

a/n: this came so fast and typed most of it out at work lmao, but i kinda dig how it turned out!! hope you’ll like it too! as always, feedback is very much appreciated!

pairing: professor!Harry x Reader

warning: sexual content

word count: 11.8k

masterlist

You shake yourself a little bit to get rid of the spicy coldness that’s been lingering around in the city in the past few days. It’s only the end of August, but feels more like late October, though they say the warmness will return for a few more weeks shortly. That would be much needed, you’d love to enjoy some more lunches out in a park or down near the river before you are forced to withdraw into the insides for the rest of the year.

Looking around in the packed pub you look for the familiar golden locks of Piper and you quickly spot her in one of the corner booths, laughing joyfully with pinked cheeks probably from the almost empty pint of beer in front of her. Marching through the place you slide into the booth joining the group of three.

“And there she is!” Piper cheers.

“We thought you’re gonna bail on us,” Abigail snickers and you just roll your eyes.

“I said I would come, just had some work to finish before,” you tell them, shaking your cardigan down your arms quickly, the air is thicker, mustier and much warmer in here, but it’s not surprising, the pub is packed, just as usual on a Friday evening.

“You work way too much,” Piper shakes her head in disapproval as she downs the rest of her drink.

“I’ll be working way less from September.”

“Yeah, but you’ll spend the rest of the week in school, so it’s gonna be the same!” Mona chimes in with furrowed eyebrows.

“They promised me a fat raise if I get this degree within the next three years, I could definitely use the extra cash so I can finally buy my own place soon,” you explain.

You know they understand the situation and they wish you the best. They want to see you succeed in life and in your career, they just love teasing you about how dedicated you are towards your work, having to say immediately yes when your boss told you you’d get a new position and a raise if you finish the masters you never got to two years ago. You already had a handful of credits done that you’ll be able to get accepted, meaning you only have about one year worth of credits to finish in two years while working. It might get a little overwhelming to have an almost fulltime job and go to school but you’re determined to do this.

“We know, we know,” Abigail chuckles. “Alright, no more work or school talk tonight. We are here to let loose, so let’s get another round!”

Soon enough you are nursing a beer of your own, enjoying your time with your friends. It’s been long all four of you were free on the same night. Piper got married last year, Abigail’s work forces her to travel around a lot and Mona has a bitch of a boss, making her work overtime a lot, so it’s been hard to fix up a date that fits everyone. It’s been like this since you all finished your bachelors three years ago. You like to think you’re still a fresh little young adult who just barely stepped out into the big world, but it’s not true, hasn’t been for a while. You’re 24, you have a career, you live on your own, you take care of yourself fully. You are an adult, whether you like it or not.

Drink after drink, the four of you are getting tipsy, having an amazing time talking about the stories you shared back in university. Piper was your roommate first year uni, Mona and Abigail were in the room next to yours and you quickly became close friends, moved in for the rest of your studies until you all went your own ways after graduation, but keeping in touch as much as possible.

“I’m gonna get another one, but that’s gonna be my last one, because I have some work to finish in the morning,” you announce climbing out of the booth.

“No work talk!” Mona and Abigail shout at the same time making you laugh as you just wave them off and head to the bar.

You’ve been waiting for the line to get shorter, now only a few people are lingering around so you patiently wait for your turn, clutching onto your card in your hand. You don’t pay much attention to the tall guy next to you, only when someone bumps into you from behind and makes you fall against his side.

“Oh shoot, sorry! Someone pushed me,” you apologize immediately as the guy looks at you over his broad shoulder and your gaze meets a pair of green eyes framed with long lashes and a curious look in them.

“No worries, Love,” he smiles and you almost gasp at the British accent that laces through his voice. You take a quick moment to inspect the man, he is standing almost a full head above you, wearing a simple black shirt and brown slacks, a set of bulky rings sitting on his fingers that are spread out on the counter in front of him, his whole left arm covered in ink and you feel the urge to examine every figure on his golden skin. His chocolate curls are kind of a mess, but still look well placed, you bet he is the type who only runs his fingers through his hair and makes it look breathtaking. He is handsome and definitely your type, looks older than you, but you wouldn’t think he is over thirty.

“What’s your order?” he asks and your eyes snap up to him, realizing he is still looking at you.

“Huh?”

“What’s your order? I’ll get it for you so you don’t have to wait longer.” “Oh, I’ll just have a stout,” you tell him, feeling a little flushed from his offer. His eyebrows rise in surprise. “What?”

“Didn’t take you as a stout person is all,” he smirks at you as the bartender appears in front of him with his drink, asking if he wants anything else. “And a stout, please.” The guy nods and disappears to get your drink.

“I uhh—I only have card though,” you speak up realizing you can’t pay it back to him.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s on me.”

“Oh, no, that wouldn’t be fair,” you protest and he seems amused that you don’t just let him pay for your drink.

“How about this: you pay for the next round. Me and my mates are sitting over there, just come over when you finish this,” he offers, pointing at two guys sitting a few booths away from you and your friends.

“This was supposed to be my last round. I have to work in the morning,” you breathe out tilting your head.

“What? Work on Saturday? What kind of job is so cruel to make you work on a Saturday morning?” he asks with a boyish smile.

“One that pays my bills and most importantly my beer,” you chuckle softly.

“Okay, then make it just a soda,” he cheekily says and you feel giddy that this man is so keen on having another drink with you.

“I guess that could work,” you smile just as the bartender appears with your drink and the handsome man pays for the drinks, just then you realize you don’t even know his name. “I’m Y/N, by the way,” you tell him taking your beer. He tugs his wallet into his pocket before holding a hand out for you.

“Harry. Nice to meet you,” he smiles warmly and the moment you take his hand, you feel the tiny sparks. This man is surely something else. “I’ll be waiting for our next round,” he cheekily tells you raising his glass before the two of you part and go back to your own groups. As expected, your friends are already waiting for you with wide eyes and excitement, having witnessed your little chat with Harry at the bar.

“Who was that?! No, wait, it doesn’t matter. You need to go home with him!” Abigail smacks her hand to the table earning a chuckle from you.

“Don’t be dramatic, I just met him.”

“And you have to get to know him better. Deeper, you know what I mean?” Mona prompts.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you all. He is hot, but I’m not looking to day anyone right now.”

“You know, it’s starting to get boring to hear you say that you are just working on yourself these days. That’s not what you’re doing,” Piper gives you a look. “You are wasting your time on work and school and all these stuff that will be there when you’re older. Live a little, Y/N!” she begs.

“You guys make me appear like a no fun bitch, but that’s not who I am!” you defend yourself, though you know they just want the best for you.

“A fun bitch would ditch us right now and go over to their booth and then ride his dick all night.”

You gasp at the unfiltered answer you just heard from Mona, but deep down, you know she is right. You haven’t really let yourself be a little crazy in a while, your one night stands stopped the moment you graduated and stepped into the world of work. It just didn’t fit into your everydays, you had a lot to worry about, making a living and keeping your life on track, but you have it all now. What’s stopping you from hooking up with a cute guy?

“I’m not gonna just ditch you guys, came here to spend time with you!”

“Shut up, we are leaving then,” Abigail snaps, downing the rest of her drink in a blink of an eye and for a moment you’re speechless.

“What? No! We never get to spend quality time together, all four of us!”

“Honey,” Mona sighs. “We love you and we know you need this. So go, get the tatted hottie and we’ll meet up another time when you’ll get to tell us all about how good the D was.”

“Jesus, you guys are unbelievable,” you chuckle shaking your head, accepting the fact that they are really forcing you to do this.

They all quickly finish their drinks and get ready to leave, hugging you before they exit the place, leaving you alone in the booth. Staring down at the stout in front of you, feeling nervous to just walk up to the guys a few tables away, though Harry told you to go over, however he didn’t invite you to join their group, just promised another round.

You take a few long gulps, hoping the strong drink will bring out your courage and before you could talk yourself down you grab your bag and drink, heading over to Harry and his friends. He is sitting at the far end so he easily spots you walking over, perching up in his seat when he sees you approaching.

“Hey,” you greet them all with a shy smile, waving around. There’s a blond guy sitting across Harry and a brunette with equally as many tattoos on his arms as Harry.

“Hey, you haven’t finished your drink,” Harry observes with a small smirk.

“Um, no. But my friends left and I was wondering if I could… join you guys.”

“Oh, the honor is yours! Take a seat beautiful!” the blonde one immediately slides further into the booth so you can sit across Harry. “I’m Niall, what’s your name?”

“Y/N.”

“So very nice to meet you,” he grins at you, words thick with Irish accent. “That’s Louis over there,” he gestures towards the third man who nods in your way with a welcoming smile.

“Hi. I’m hoping I’m not interrupting though.”

“Oh, never,” Niall shakes his head immediately. “We saw you chatting up Harry at the bar, have been teasing him about going up to you since then,” he cheekily comments and you see Harry giving him a look, but Niall couldn’t care less.

All three of them are hilarious and you love the dynamic in their friendship. Niall is clearly the loud one, Louis is the cheeky who is always up for some mischief and Harry is somewhat the serious bloke, but it’s clear he doesn’t say no to any crazy ideas his two friends make up. You love the teasing and joking, they make you feel welcomed and as if you’d known them for longer than just an hour. As promised, you pay for Harry’s next drink, but you stick to just a lemonade, not wanting to overstep your own boundaries.

All while you’re sitting with the guys, you keep catching Harry eyeing you, your gazes meet over your drinks and at one point you feel his leg finding yours under the table, your ankles pressing together as he nudges you with his feet. You feel like a giddy teenager flirting with her crush, Harry’s effect on you is probably very clear too, but you don’t care.

Louis is the first one to leave and Niall follows not long later, leaving you alone with Harry. The nerves are raging in you as you try to figure out which way to take it. Though he seems like a nice guy, you still don’t want to take it any further than a hookup. Dating is just not in the cards for you right now. But how do you imply a one night stand? Do you ask him to come to your place? Or do you go to his? You would rather go to his so you can sneak out first thing in the morning, spare you an awkward talk over breakfast before you leave.

“We should… get going too,” you suggest and Harry nods in agreement, finishing up the last gulps of his beer. You take a deep breath and decide to just be straight forward. “Maybe I could go to yours? Have another round there?” Your suggestion comes out fainter than you intended, but you still manage to sound confident. Harry seems a little surprised, but he doesn’t voice it.

“Another? Thought you were done for the night,” he tells with an amused smirk.

“I’m sure you have something alcohol free,” you shrug innocently.

“I surely do,” he nods. “Alright, let’s get going.

He calls an Uber and the two of you sit close in the car, thighs touching and at one point his large hand finds your thigh, squeezing it gently that sets a fire in your core almost immediately. It’s been long you’ve been touched by a man, you were starting to forget what it feels like, but you know Harry will remind you well about it.

He lives in a nice townhouse and you note how it’s not too far from the campus you’ll be going to a lot in a week. He keys the two of you in, switching the lights on in his cozy home. It’s not messy, more like lived in. A lot of books everywhere, the furniture doesn’t match, but all together, the whole place is pulled together somehow. It’s very like him.

“So, what would you like to drink?” he asks walking into the open concept kitchen, grabbing two glasses from the cupboard. “I have some tea, orange juice, water…”

As you watch his broad back, his muscles moving under the soft fabric of his shirt, you quickly forget about any drink. You want him and you want him now. Walking up to him you slide between him and the kitchen counter, catching him by surprise when you cup his face in your hands and pull him down into a hard kiss, but a moment later his arms wrap around you, lifting you up from the ground until you are sat on the counter. You open your knees so he stands between them, his crotch meeting yours as you kiss messily, all tongues, tugging and nipping, but oh my! You absolutely love it. The man has a mouth full of magic and you can only imagine what else he can do with those lips.

A whimpered moan leaves your mouth when you feel his growing bulge rub against your core as his lips travel down your jawline and throat, kissing and licking on your heated skin.

“Harry, bedroom,” you demand grabbing onto his shoulders and he doesn’t waste a moment, picking you up into his arms and heading somewhere down the hallway. You can’t quite comprehend what way it is, you’re way too lost in the feeling of his lips on your collarbone and neck, surely leaving marks on you.

He lays you down to a king sized bed and gets on top of you right away, following his wandering down your body. His ring clad fingers work fast on the hem of your shirt, pulling it off you in a moment before he kneels up and gets rid of his own shirt. He looks breathtaking, all the tattoos littering his chest and stomach, you just want to kiss all of them, feel his skin on your lips.

As he unbuckles his leather belt you push down your skinny jeans, throwing the item to the side without ever taking your hands off him. The man surely has all your attention.

When his slacks join the rest of your clothes on the floor he climbs on top of you again, kissing down the valley between your breasts that are still covered in the lacy bra. Your underwear doesn’t match, but something is telling you Harry is more eager to see you without them than to examine them. When he hooks his fingers into your panties and starts pulling them down, you reach to your back, unclasping the bra and in a blink of an eye, you’re lying completely naked in front of him.

“Fuck, you look so hot, Y/N,” he breathes out before those magical lips start working on your nipples, making you moan and whimper under him.

Kissing down your stomach he spreads your thighs wide, gazing down at your naked sex and for a moment you feel a little self-conscious, but the lust in Harry’s eyes quickly makes it disappear.

“You’re gonna let me have a taste, baby?” he murmurs, sending shivers down your spine as you nod eagerly.

He is not a tease. Harry dives right in, his lips meeting your clit, working his magic and you cry out his name, fingers tangling into his locks to keep him in place, not that he is about to stop anytime soon. He clearly enjoys pleasuring you.

“Oh fuck!” you gasp when his tongue runs down your slit and he slowly pushes into you, making your back arch. You need him inside you, you need him to fill you up right now or else you’ll burst. “Harry,” you breathe out, tugging on his shoulders, urging him to come back up.

He climbs up your body, a satisfied smirk on his glistening lips and when he kisses you hungrily, you can taste yourself on him.

“Condom,” you urge him, hands pushing down on his briefs, lips still locked as he reaches to the bedside table. You hear the familiar sound of the package ripping before he leans back, your eyes falling on his naked erection for the first time and your lips part seeing his cock, knowing already he’ll feel you up so well. He rolls the condom on easily before returning to you, but you don’t stay in that position too long. You want to ride this man, see him come undone under you. Being on top is already one of your favorite positions, but with Harry, you just know it’s going to be amazing.

You push on his shoulder and he understands your intention without a spoken word, so he rolls to his back and lets you straddle him, glancing down at his cock that’s now grazing his lower stomach, so hard and throbbing just for you. His fingers dig into your hips when you wrap a hand around his length, positioning him to your center.

“Oh fuck!” he moans when you ease down, his cock filling you up inch to inch, feeling so amazing like nothing before.

“Shit,” you breathe out gasping when you sit on him fully, taking his whole length inside you, stretching your insides so nicely, your wet walls hugging him perfectly.

“You feel so fucking good,” he murmurs lowly as you start buckling your hips, moving back and forth, up and down, the friction you’re creating swallowing you up entirely.

Harry can’t take his eyes off you, a hand wandering up to cup your breast and you cover his hand with yours, encouraging him to squeeze, making you moan passionately. He starts buckling his hips in sync with your movements, meeting you with every little thrust, hitting just the right spots, building up your orgasm so easily like no man has ever done before.

“Harry, oh God!” you moan, falling forward, leaning onto your arms next to his head, your lips meet in a hungry and demanding kiss as he wraps his arms around your body, thrusting up into you hard and so good, you whimper against his lips.

“You’re gonna cum for me, baby? I wanna see you feel good,” he pants, never slowing down. A few moments later he rolls the two of you around, your back hitting the sheets again as he moves one of your legs to rest on his shoulder, hitting a spot that almost makes you see stars.

“Oh yes! There! Don’t fucking stop!” you cry out so loud, you can only hope the walls are thick enough to keep your voice locked in the room.

“Not planning to,” he chuckles shortly before burying his face in the crook of your neck. You hold onto him for dear life, fingers digging into his sweaty skin, feeling as if you are melting into him.

Harry rocks into you relentlessly, your toes curling as you feel your orgasm finally arriving, making you gasp for air.

“Harry! I’m gonna cum!” you moan and he lifts his head, never stopping, not even for a second. His green eyes lock on your gaze, curls flopping into his forehead as he watches you in awe.

“Let it go for me, baby. Cum all over me, I wanna see how good I’m making you feel.”

“So fucking good!”

He picks up his pace just enough to make you lose your mind. It hits you like a pile of bricks, your orgasm washing over you in intense waves as you moan his name again and again. Your walls clench around him and it’s enough to throw him over the edge as well. His thrusts become uncoordinated and harder as his mouth hangs open.

“Fuck, Y/N! You feel so fucking amazing!” he whimpers through his pleasure and you watch him fall apart, panting and gasping for air, trying to remember every little detail about him. This is an experience you surely won’t forget and will probably fantasize about a lot when you’re alone at home, playing with yourself, seeking release.

A few more sloppy thrusts later he stops, kissing your lips passionately before he pulls out and falls to the mattress next to you. You both need a few minutes to recover from it, just panting and laying numbly next to each other, Harry’s arm thrown over your stomach. You turn to the side and immediately meet his glistening eyes, filled with satisfaction and bliss. When he finally recollects himself he pecks your lips softly before leaving the bed. You watch him remove the used condom, tie it and toss it into the small trash can near his dressed before he moves to the bathroom. When he reappears, he is wearing a fresh pair of boxers and he has a wet washcloth in his hand. Sitting beside you he gently cleans you up as you murmur your thank you.

“Want something to sleep in?” he asks then and you nod. He grabs you a t-shirt and a pair of loose shorts that you put on gladly. They smell exactly like him, soap, something citrus-like and a hint of anise.

He returns to bed and pulls you into his embrace, you gladly make yourself comfortable curled up to his side. Lying there, feeling his fingers gently running up and down your arm almost makes you want more from him. You could get used to share a bed with him and it’s not just because of the mind-blowing sex, but he is a lovable person. You feel bad you’re planning to leave without a trace in the morning, but then you tell yourself it’s what has to happen.

Harry doses off soon and you follow him right after, the warmth of his body puts you to sleep easily. When you wake up it’s still clearly early. Harry is sleeping soundly next to you, face squished into the pillow and you almost stay, wanting to see what he’s like in the morning, but you don’t let yourself change your mind.

You get dressed into your own clothes and leave the ones he lent you on top of his dresser. You tiptoe out of his room and grab your bag before looking for a piece of paper and a pen. You quickly scribble down a short note for him.

“Had fun last night. Hope you won’t be mad, but I only saw it as a one night stand. You’re an amazing man, Harry. I’m glad we met. Xx  –Y/N”

It’s more than nothing, than leaving without a word and you don’t let the guilt take over you. Taking one last look around, glancing in the way of the bedroom where he is still asleep, you pack it all up and put it to the back of your mind before walking out.

The last week before your classes start passes by faster than you imagined. It’s your last week fully in the office so you try to work a little ahead, staying in afterhours so you won’t have that much to take care of while you get used to being a uni student again. You usually get home after nine and basically fall into bed right away, and you even work during the weekend before the Monday when school starts. You go to bed way too late so it’s not a surprise you wake up late. You get ready in a rush, throwing out your plan to get a coffee on your way out the window since you are way behind time. Running across campus you’re lucky you already know your way around so you don’t have to wander around, looking for the room you have to be at, but even when you finally reach the right hallway you’re ten minutes late to the class.

Introduction to International Relations, held by Prof. Styles, 8.30-10.00, it reads on the little timetable attached to the way next to the closed doors and you pray the man didn’t start in time, so you’d be late with just a few minutes. Taking a deep breath you push the door open trying to make no sound and unfortunately, you are met with an auditorium full of people, everyone looking at you as if it was against the law to be a little late to class.

What the Hell is wrong with students these days? Being late was usual when I was a freshman, you think to yourself as you step inside, closing the door behind you, getting ready to apologize to the professor.

“I’m so sorry, Professor Styles, I—Shit,” you end your sentence with a whisper as your eyes fall on the man standing on the podium. He hasn’t turned to you, his eyes are fixed on a paper in his hand, probably the syllabus because he must have been in the middle of introducing the class, but the sudden whispering that starts upon your apology that turned into shit, he finally looks up and his eyes fall on your frozen figure.

Professor Styles is none other than Harry. As in The Harry you met at the pub a week ago, had the best sex with and left without leaving your number to him in the morning. Now he is staring back at you with the same amount of panic and surprise as you.

“What—I uhh…” He clears his throat, looking around and seeing about a hundred pairs of curious eyes who are witnessing the awkward run-in. “Take a seat,” he then firmly says, clenching his jaw as you nod.

With your heart beating in your throat you keep your eyes down on your feet as you rush over to a free seat somewhere at the front, since the back is already kinda full.

“So, uhh—As I was saying this is an introduction so we’ll talk about a lot of different topics, I want you to have a view of the most important aspects before moving onto separate fields.”

You don’t dare to look up as Harry talks about the class, the syllabus, how the semester will be built up and what you’ll have to do to pass. Scribbling your wobbly notes, you nervously bounce your legs under the desk, flashbacks from your time with him popping into your mind through the whole lecture.

This feels like something straight out of a ridiculous movie. How is it possible, that the one time you finally decide to have a one night stand with a hot guy, he turns out to be your professor?! That’s just your luck, it seems.

Harry doesn’t drag the lecture long, dismisses everyone after an hour once every question has been answered. You plan to escape right away, but it turns out Harry doesn’t want to just sweep it under the rug.

“Can I have a word with you?” he asks stepping to your desk as you are furiously shoving your stuff into your bag.

“Uh, sure,” you nod, not like you have a choice. You’d love to run, but he is your professor, it would sit well if you ditched him on the first day of school.

You slow your packing down so you finish right when the last student has left the room. Grabbing your bag you turn to face Harry who now seems furious, vivid if you might say. He strides over to the door and shuts it before facing you.

“You said you’re working!” is the first thing he throws at you, making you raise your eyebrows.

“Because I am! I’m finishing my masters so I can get a promotion!” you defend yourself.

“Wait, so how old are you?” he asks with a puzzled look.

“I’m twenty-four, what did you think?” You feel offended, did he think you were younger or older? Neither would sit well anyway, so there’s no good answer.

“I-I don’t know, but when you walked right into my class I surely thought you were twenty or something,” he explains exhaling sharply. “Okay, so twenty-four. But still, you could have told me you are a student here.”

“Excuse you? Why would have I told you, we met that night, of course I didn’t share my whole fucking life with you! Besides, you didn’t say a thing about being a college professor either,” you spat at him and it seems like he realizes your argument is quite valid. He can’t blame it all on you.

“Okay, you’re right. Sorry.”

There’s a short silence as the anger dies down and the awkwardness and shock returns. It’s such an impossible situation, you never thought you’d have to deal with anything similar. Having an affair with your professor? This shit is straight out of some teenage drama.

“I can… drop the lecture, if you want. Only took it as extra credit, because I was interested in it,” you offer the first rational option that comes to your mind.

“No, I mean… you don’t have to. Messing around with credits at this time sucks, you wouldn’t be able to find something else.”

“Okay, so then what?”

“I guess we’ll just pretend like nothing happened,” he shrugs before his eyes meet yours. “Like you did in the morning when you left without leaving your number.”

His comment spikes, you can tell he was hurt that you didn’t stay, though now is probably not the best time to bring it up.

“Well, sorry. I didn’t think of it as more,” you dryly say.

“That’s not how you came off, however. Having laughs with me and my friends like we’ve known each other for years and then…” he doesn’t finish, but you have an idea what he wanted to say. And then you had insanely good sex and fell asleep cuddling. It feels illegal to even think about it in this building.

“Look, I’m really sorry I left like that, but look at it this way: if we would have taken it further, it would be way worse now, wouldn’t it?”

“Maybe we would have talked more later and found out about this and wouldn’t have had to face each other under these circumstances.”

He has a point, but it doesn’t matter now. The past is the past and you have to figure out how to treat this odd situation.

“You think you can forget about it and we can be professional? I really don’t want this to affect my studies,” you truthfully ask. Harry stares at you for a long moment before nodding.

“I think we can make it work. We are both adults, let’s put it behind us.” You nod, satisfied with his answer. “So what’s your major and why do you need it for your job?”

“It’s communication. I’m set to take over our international partnership groups, but the board is set on having someone with a higher degree. I told my boss I started it back then but never finished when I started working. He said I would instantly get the position if I finished my masters, so… here I am.”

Harry nods, chewing on your answer. Suddenly, as you look at him, guilt washes over you. He is such a genuine and lovely man, yet you left so abruptly, never even giving him a chance. Not that it would have made this situation any different, but it seems like you hurt him.

“Harry, I really am sorry for leaving. I had a great time with you, but I don’t think dating just fits into my life right now. I felt like you’d want more and I didn’t want to deal with all the explaining and apologizing.”

“I get it. It just would have been nicer to talk it out. Not that it makes a change now,” he adds with a soft smile.

“So we’re good?” you ask hopefully.

“Yeah. Professional and all,” he smiles nodding and you feel like a rock has been lifted off your shoulders.

“Great. Well, I guess I’ll see you later, professor,” you add a little cheekily and you see the fire in his eyes instantly, but he holds his tongue, not commenting on how sexual it sounds from your mouth. You couldn’t miss out on the teasing.

“Dismissed,” he nods turning away from you as he walks back to his desk. You walk out with the longest sigh that’s ever left your lips.

“Professor Styles! You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Piper screams at you over Facetime later that week when the two of you have your usual little chat. You’re making dinner while she lies on her couch, staring at you from the screen with the widest eyes. You just told him the whole thing with Harry and she almost choked. “The man is a professor? This shit is wild!” “Not just a professor, he is my fucking teacher, Piper!” you chuckle awkwardly. You still haven’t fully wrapped your mind around the fact that you hooked up with your professor.

“How old is the dude to be teaching at a university?”

“Well, he said he is twenty-nine. I might have done a little search and since he is british, schooling was a little different for him. Apparently, he finished high school early as a fucking genius that he is, then uni, masters and everything. He started teaching at my school two years ago. The guy is like a big name in the field of social sciences.”

“Damn, he is a gem. So what’s gonna happen now? Y’all gonna fuck on his desk after class?”

“Piper!” you snap at her.

“What? I hope you’re not thinking about passing on him.”

“I passed on him way before I knew he was my professor. We can’t have anything going on because one, he is my professor and two, because I’m not looking for anyone to date.”

“You are so full of bullshit, Y/N,” she snorts. “So what if he is your professor? Just for this semester. Keep it a secret and then it’s done. You’re not some eighteen year-old freshman, he is just five years older than you.”

“You can’t be serious,” you shake your head. “I’m not going to have an affair with my teacher.”

“Not an affair, a relationship! You gotta hold onto good dick if you find one. This is what I did with Ronan,” she smirks satisfied.

“Yeah, it’s not happening.”

“Why not?”

“Piper, have you been listening to what I was saying?” you ask in disbelief. “Yeah, five years is not much, but I’m pretty sure there’s a rule against teachers dating students.”

“Rules are for losers. You literally found the perfect guy and you’ll just throw him away? Said it yourself after your hookup that you liked the guy. Why are you being so difficult?”

“Sorry for not wanting to get myself or Harry out of the university,” you scoff turning the stove off under the sauce before you burn it all.

“Harry? So you’re just calling him Harry?” Piper wiggles her eyebrows at you, leaning closer to the camera and you just groan at her. How was this the only thing that stuck to her?

“I can’t fucking believe you,” you mumble under your breath.

“Okay, yeah, I get you. I truly do. But I’m also your friend who wants to see you happy. So I’m just saying that if he makes a move… be open. He is your professor for only one semester, so once it’s over you are free to do whatever. Fuck, date, anything.”

Soon enough you fall into a pattern with your everydays. Mondays, Tuesdays and Friday mornings are for school. Wednesdays and Thursdays are spent on campus at your lectures and you usually go into the office on Friday afternoons to make sure everything works fine before you go off for the weekend. Having so many credits accepted from before, you have less classes meaning that you have less work to do with school as well. There are a few papers and assignments, but nothing too crazy. You genuinely enjoy your classes, each of them unique in a different way but if you’re being honest, Harry’s class is your favorite. He has done a great job at building up the lectures. Introduction classes tend to be shallow and boring, but not Harry’s. He has chosen interesting but still important topics and he makes sure the students are always involved and he isn’t just reading up his slides dully. There are a lot of discussions, everyone gets to tell their opinion and Harry genuinely seems interested in anything his students have to say.

You also came to realize his class is full of girls, only a handful of men dared to sign up. You didn’t pay attention the first time for obvious reasons, but as you looked around the next week you saw heart eyes and lustful gazes towards the man standing on the podium talking. You’re not sure if Harry doesn’t notice it or just chooses to ignore it, but he is doing a good job at staying professional. In the aspect of your situation as well.

For a bit you were afraid he would have hard feelings towards you or treat you differently, but it’s not the case. You are just another pair of curious eyes and ears at his lectures, only that sometimes you catch yourself daydreaming about that one night. When that happens you can always feel yourself blushing and an irrational fear that Harry can hear your thoughts invades your mind, though it’s stupid. But you always try to stay low just in case.

 It’s early October when an unexpected project lands in your hands at work, setting you back in your schedule. You work through the weekend just to get it right but that means that you couldn’t start working on your paper for Harry’s class that has to be turned in by the end of the week. So next Monday morning when class is over you walk up to him to ask for some more time.

“Hey, can I have a word with you?” you ask and as he glances up at you he seems surprised you initiated a private conversation.

“Sure, what’s the matter?”

“I just wanted to ask if I could have just a little more time to turn my paper in. I know it’s due Friday, but I’m a little behind and it would be amazing if I could work on it on the weekend. I’m sure I’d be done by next Monday.”

You’re afraid he might think you want to use your history and take advantage of it, but it seems like Harry looks more concerned than upset about your request.

“Yeah, sure. Everything alright though?”

Your eyes wander around the room, only a few more people are left inside and they are heading out as well. For some reason, you are a little paranoid that someone might figure out what happened between you and Harry though it’s nearly impossible.

“I’m good, I just got some extra work last week and it totally threw me off.”

“Oh, what kind of project?”

“I just have to put together a communication plan for three of our partners and it’s taking way more time than I expected,” you admit with a chuckle.

“I think I have an amazing book about international communication plans. I could lend it to you, if you’d like. It has amazing tips on sustainability.”

“That would be… amazing,” you say, surprised by his nice offer.

“Are you on campus tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I have a lecture. I can come by your office.”

“Fantastic,” he smiles warmly. “And don’t worry about the paper. You’re not the first one to ask for more time. If you hand it in on Monday it’s gonna be perfectly fine,” he assures you.

“Thank you Harry. I-I mean Professor Styles,” you correct yourself, feeling awkward that you called him by his first name, but he just chuckles.

“You can call me Harry outside class.” “Okay,” you smile nodding. “Then, see you tomorrow,” you say as you leave the room.

You spend the rest of the day working unfortunately, still a lot to do with your project. It’s hard to harmonize three different companies from three nations, working in different time zones. The next day you decide to skip your lecture in the noon. The professor is not too strict on attendance so you’re just gonna find a nice coffee place, set up a temporary office and work some more so you can finish everything on time.

You find Harry’s office easily. The door is open and you spot him sitting behind his desk right away, searching for something in a stack of papers. His office resembles a lot to his home, it has a cozy vibe but looks still very much academic with all the books lining on the shelves on the two sides of his desk. You knock on the doorframe as you arrive and his green eyes shoot up to your figure.

“Hey! Come on in!” he smiles at you. “Just a moment please,” he asks, still vigorously flipping the pages until he finally stops. “Here it is, I’ve been looking for it for ages,” he mumbles to himself and you smile. He looks a lot like the version of him you met at the bar. A fun, nice guy, clearly a little lost in his own world, but it amuses you rather then annoys. You wonder what could be happening in that brilliant mind of his.

He pushes himself away from the table and walks over to his bag that lies on the small sofa in the corner. Digging into it he pulls out a thick book that he hands over to you.

“Wow, lengthy,” you chuckle as you flip through the pages quickly.

“Yeah, looks a little dry but I promise it’s good. I put a note to the chapters that are the most relevant to you,” he explains and just then you spot a yellow post-it on one of the pages, a few more following behind.

“Oh, thank you. That’s really nice of you.” You smile up at him warmly, holding the book to your chest. “I’ll bring it back as soon as I’m done.”

“Take your time,” he nods. “And how is it going so far?”

“Uh, it’s… going,” you say with a tired chuckle. “It’s a little tricky, but I’m sure I’ll solve it. I’m gonna work some more on it now, so hopefully I’ll be done within the next few days.”

“You’re not going to class?”

“No, I allowed myself a skip this week so I’m gonna find a café or something.”

“You could… stay here, if you’d like. I could even help if you let me have a look at it. I mean I’m not an expert in communication but I’m good with multicultural stuff.” His offer catches you by surprise and for a moment you want to say no, but then you realize he might actually be helpful. Another set of eyes is always beneficial.

“You don’t have a class?”

“Not until four, no.”

“And you sure I can stay? I don’t want to bother you.”

“You’re not. Please, I would love to take a look at what you’ve put together.”

You hesitate for another moment, but then let your bag slip off your shoulder as you walk over to the armchair in front of his desk.

You pull your laptop out of your bag and set it on the table so both of you can see from the two sides of the desk. You open up what you have so far, explaining it in details and Harry listens intently, nodding and humming along so you know he is following. At the end you tell him your concerns, the ones you’ve been trying to rule out these past few days so you can finish it all up.

“This looks amazing, Y/N. I’m very impressed by the way you synchronized it all.” “Thank you, but it’s not perfect, so I have a lot to work on. Any thoughts though?”

Harry asks you a few questions before he gives his two cents, telling you what he would do and change. His point of view actually helps a lot, allows you to see the whole thing from a different angle and he gives you some awesome tips. Before you could realize, the two of you are deep in the project, all kinds of books splattered across his desks as you work together to finish the thing. Two hours pass by as it was just two minutes, but at the end, you have it all figured out.

“Oh my God. I can’t believe it’s done!” you breathe out, scrolling through the document you put together for your boss. Everything is put together, well-thought and in place, thanks to Harry’s help. “Harry, thank you. You literally saved my life,” you chuckle softly, leaning back in the armchair you haven’t left in hours.

“You had a strong base, I just helped you find a few solutions, but it was all you.”

“Don’t belittle it, you literally had so many ideas even in fields you are not familiar with. You really are a genius.”

“I’m just good at using my sources,” he smiles at you, glancing down at all the books he has pulled out during the process. “It was fun working on something so practical, I’m way too used to literal things.”

“Oh stop, you want me to feel bad because you are this ridiculously smart college professor who doesn’t get to work on practical projects?” you tease him earning a boyish smile.

“Maybe I do want that.”

“Well, you’re not getting it,” you laugh and he joins you. Once the mood settles you realize how good it felt to be around him. The dynamic the two of you had was so great, working with him felt like a fun activity. And now that you’re done, you really don’t want to leave this office though you know you have to.

“You know, I might come to you with work stuff all the time. You just spared so much time for me, I really thought I wouldn’t finish before Friday.”

“My door is always open,” he smirks shrugging. “I’m glad we got to work together. You really are great at what you are doing. Your boss is lucky to have you around. I’m sure you’ll be an amazing group leader once you get your degree.”

“Thank you.”

His compliment actually means a lot. Aside from this weird situation, Harry is a brilliant mind in his field. Hearing him tell you that he thinks you are doing an amazing work is such a boost to your ego.

“Well, I owe you one for this,” you tell him as you start packing up.

“Yeah? I’ll keep that in mind for sure,” he smirks, watching you put your things away.

“Mhm, see you around, Harry,” you smile, waving in his way before walking out.

“See you, Y/N.”

Thanks to Harry you get to turn in your project in time and write his paper until the original due date as well. You send it in email and for your biggest surprise he answers later that day.

“Glad you could finish in time, can’t wait to read your thoughts on the topic! –H”

It’s a simple message, but what catches your eyes is the signature at the end. It reads his full name, Prof. Harry Edward Styles, the school’s name, his official office hours and at the very end… his phone number.

Looking at it you think it seems a little out of place, as if it doesn’t belong there originally, he just added it to your email, but you can’t tell. Is this a hint? Does he want you to call or text him? What if he puts it into every email, not just yours? Would it be awkward to text? Why do you even want to text him in the first place? You agreed to stay away from him!

It keeps eating you the whole evening, staying on your mind, doesn’t matter what you do. After you’ve drunk a glass of wine with your dinner you finally make up your mind, convincing yourself it’s strictly friendly as you type in the words.

Y/N: Turned my project in, my boss already emailed me he likes it so far. Thanks for the help again. –Y/N

His reply comes fast and luckily, he doesn’t question why you decided to text him.

Harry: Glad I could help! Ran over your paper, looks great too. You’re doing an amazing job, Y/N.

There’s no stopping after that. The two of you keep talking through texts and though it’s all casual and friendly, you don’t feel bad about it, because in class, you still keep it professional and you have no advantage. He treats you just like any other student, keeping your friendship away from whatever happens in the classroom.

The line slowly starts to blur, however. You think way more about Harry than you should and you actually find yourself regretting that you’re not able to get as close to him as you want. He fascinates and attracts you in ways no one ever could before and something is telling you he shares these feelings, but you are both keeping it at bay, afraid what would happen if you let your desires take the lead. You just wish you could go out with him, have drinks with him and his friends like the night you met him, forget about how he would always stand on the podium on Monday morning no matter what happens and he’ll be grading your papers. Mixing feelings with this impossible situation might turn it into a disaster and you know you have to stay strong, but it’s getting harder.

Harry is the kind of teacher who likes to finish his class before everyone else, so when December rolls around everyone already has their grades from the papers that had to be turned in through the semester, so when December rolls around it’s all just free talks, he starts interesting discussions about topics students want to talk about. His lectures feel like free time but still, no one skips them because they are always so entertaining and interesting.

“Alright, we’ll meet for the last time next week. As per suggested, we’ll talk about the European Union so get your questions and thoughts ready,” he smiles around, ending the lecture. “Y/N? Can we talk for a second?”

“Sure,” you smile at him. Putting your things away you walk up to his desk much more carelessly than before.

“So I have a question and you can totally tell me if you don’t want to go, but there’s this great International Affairs Summit next weekend just a few towns over, not more than a two hours ride. I thought that you might be interested in going? They’ll have some awesome presentations and displays, thought it might interest you.”

For the first time since you’ve met him, he seems nervous, stumbling over his words a little as he avoids looking into your eyes. He looks so much younger, not at all like the respected professor that he is. He is just Harry now, the guy you bonded over that stout he paid for.

“Sounds nice,” you answer smiling at him, he seems surprised at your answer. “I would love to go.”

“Really?” You chuckle at his disbelief.

“Really.”

“Just to be clear it’s not a school thing, it’s gonna be the two of us,” he clears and your grin widens.

“It’s clear. Still want to go.”

“Amazing,” he breathes out, a smile finally tugging on his lips. “I can pick you up in the morning.”

“Sure. Can we discuss the details in text? I have a meeting soon.”

“Oh, yeah. Of course. We’ll talk later,” he nods enthusiastically, seemingly very joyful that you agreed to go on this trip with him.

“See you later, Harry!” you wave at him walking out of the classroom.

“Later!”

Piper would be very satisfied to know that you are going away with Harry this weekend. Though you still try to tell yourself it’s nothing more than just a friendly thing, you’re not fooling yourself. You want it to be more and now that the semester is over, your doubts and fears are almost fully forgotten and left at the beginning of September. Soon Harry won’t be your professor and you now see that it wouldn’t be that bad if something more happened between the two of you. You grew close through the year even though you only kept in touch through phone, appearing publicly wasn’t really an option, but still, you got to know him better and you liked him. A lot. There was no use in denying that.

Harry picks you up early in the morning and so the little trip begins. You take control over the music and play some of your favorites to him while he drives, educating him on recent popular music. Then he shows you some of his favorites, playing a lot of Fleetwood Mac and you weren’t expecting anything else from him.

He looks great today in a creamy colored knitted sweater, black wool coat and grey checkered slacks. His hair is now longer than when you met him for the first time, but it just adds to his amazing look, he rocks it pretty well.

The two hours pass by fast and you arrive to the Summit. Checking out the program the two of you choose the presentations you’re most interested in, leaving some time in the middle of the day to have lunch somewhere near.

You choose a sandwich bar that has a nice winter garden at the back looking out to a little pond. You sit at a small table, the conversation hasn’t stopped since the morning, only paused when the presentations were happening, but you always picked up right where you were before. Harry tells you about his time at university back in the UK and you’re a little surprised to hear that he was kind of a wild kid for a while.

“You? Wild?” you laugh. “I can’t picture it.

“It was mostly the first year though. Felt like I can’t miss out on anything so I was at every party and gathering,” he chuckles softly.

“And why did you stop?” “I don’t know,” he shrugs, but you know he is not telling you the truth, so you gently kick his leg under the table. “Alright, but you can’t laugh!”

“I won’t, I promise!”

“It sounds very nerdy, but I fell in love with studying. I mean I was always a good student, that’s why I could finish high school earlier, but I did it to be done with it already. But then I grew an odd love to studying, to learning new things. I wanted to read every book there is, know everything in the world.”

“And do you know everything now?” you ask with a soft smile, completely in awe with how he talks about his passion for sciences. You don’t find it funny at all, more admirable.

“Not even a fraction of it,” he chuckles. “But I learn something new every day,” he shrugs.

“What did you learn today?”

“That Nicki Minaj and Miley Cyrus had… beef?” He is a little unsure about the last word that you taught him today in the car when you were listening to a song from Miley. It sounds so funny hearing from his mouth.

“Yeah, beef,” you nod chuckling. “Great knowledge you’ve learned today.”

“I learn a lot from you,” he smiles cheekily. “But really. I’m glad you could come today. Felt like I needed to take this step since you took the one before this.”

“Huh?” you ask, a little confused about what he is talking about. Then, as if he realizes he just said something he shouldn’t have, he chuckles nervously, keeping his eyes on his iced tea on the table.

“Well, I hope this won’t be too weird, but when you emailed me your paper back in October and I replied… I put my phone number into my signature and told myself that if you use it, I’ll take it as a hint that you… are open to more. And you did send me a text, took the risk so I thought I should be taking it next.”

You look at him in awe. So you were right, he did put his number in just for you and wanted you to use it. You’re amazed at how sneaky he was to find out how you’re feeling about him, but now you’re glad you took the risk and texted him.

“So you asked me to come today. I see where we are standing,” you nod smirking.

“You’re not mad? At the number thing?”

“Why would I?” you ask with a soft chuckle. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Yes, but we agreed to keep it professional and all along I yearned for something more and threw you this hint. When I sent the email I wanted to take it back immediately, thinking that you’d see through me right away,” he admits.

“Well, I didn’t,” you tell him making him laugh. “I debated for a long time whether I should text you or not and then just… said fuck it!”

“I’m glad you did,” he smirks and his gaze holds yours for a little, you can feel the moment you’re sharing. This conversation has definitely opened a door for the two of you.

The rest of the day passes by peacefully. You love having Harry with you and discuss the presentations with him later. He has a great mind, you love sharing your thoughts with him, get deep whenever something really catches your attention. It’s so easy to talk to him and you actually feel like he values your thoughts, unlike some men you had to deal with in the past.

During the ride back home you keep thinking about whether you should take it any further or not. You surely don’t want him to be just a one night stand anymore, it’s still very fresh but you actually feel like you’ve started falling for him and you wonder where he is standing in the situation right now. Today has changed a lot so when he parks in front of your building, you decide to just risk it again, like you did it so many times with him.

“Would you want to come up for a little? I could show you that article I talked about today,” you say, trying to sound calm though you see the surprise in his eyes, he wasn’t expecting this invitation.

“I… would love to. You sure it’s not too late?”

“Positive,” you smirk at him unbuckling yourself.

He follows you up to your apartment. It’s definitely not as big as his home, but you take pride in it. It’s the perfect size for you and you’ve worked a lot on making it your home. Harry is looking around, inspecting the place as you walk into the small kitchen and grab two bottles of beer, offering one for him.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, following you to sit on the plush couch you adore so much. It feels like a cloud is swallowing you up. “This place suits you.”

“Thanks. You know, this is what I thought about yours too.”

“Yeah? I think mine is just a mess,” he chuckles, taking a sib from his beer.

“It’s a good mess. Liked it.”

There is some tension, but in a good way if you might say. As if you both were unsure about where it’s heading, walking on eggshells, not knowing where the boundaries are lying as of right now.

“You know, the semester is almost over,” you imply, giving him an innocent look.

“I’m very much aware of that, the pile of tests on my desk waiting to be graded reminds me every day of it,” he chuckles making you smile too.

“Mhm and it also means that very soon you won’t be my professor anymore.”

You scoot closer, your knees coming in contact with his thigh and he sucks on his breath, looking down at the spot where you two touch. You really hope he won’t turn you down, because you’ve already gotten your hopes up about making it work.

“Is that so?”

“Yes,” you nod confidently. He doesn’t move and you’re losing patience. So grabbing his beer from his hand you place his and yours as well to the small coffee table before shamelessly swinging a leg over him, sitting on his lap. Your hands rest on his broad shoulders and his hands immediately find their way to your waist, his thumb caressing the skin that shows from under your ridden up shirt. However you see hesitation in his eyes.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s going on in your head, talk to me,” you ask him softly, tilting your head to the side.

“I just… I know soon it’s gonna be alright for us to… you know. But I… I hope you know it’s not a game for me.”

“What do you mean?”

“That I’m all in, Y/N. I know it’s been a crazy few months, but I really like you. A lot. I love talking to you, I love it when you are talking so passionately about things that interest you. I love how open and hardworking you are. I think that you’re an amazing person and I don’t want this to just be some passing, quick thing. I’m serious about this. About you.”

You can’t hold your growing smile back as your hands move up to cup his cheeks. Leaning closer you peck his lips softly.

“Great. Because I’m serious too.”

Harry breathes out in relief and a second later he is kissing you hungrily, letting his desire take over after holding back for so long. You weren’t the only one having a hard time during lectures. He hated how he always found himself looking in your way, thinking about how beautiful you are, how amazing it felt to hold you in his arms and it ached his heart that he had to keep himself so far away from you. When you took the risk and texted him, he could cry in excitement and he knew right in that moment that he is fucked for you.

Though it started a little rocky, now that he has you in his arms again, he wouldn’t change a thing, because it brought him to this very moment and he is overwhelmed with joy. He is more than ready to show you how serious he is about you, not just with his words but his actions, so he is quick to leave the couch and navigate into your bedroom to relive that mind-blowing night the two of you shared back in late August.

“Congrats, Miss Y/L/N. We are looking forward to seeing you work your magic as the leader of the group.” The executive manager shakes your hand and you see your boss from the corner of your eye, looking at you proudly.

“Thank you. I won’t disappoint,” you smile back.

You say your goodbye to everyone else in the room before finally heading out with the widest smile on your face. You did it. You finally got the promotion.

You finished your masters just a month ago and this meeting was scheduled almost immediately. For a while you were afraid they wouldn’t wait until you finish your studies, but they proved that they wanted no one else but you, making you feel so valued.

Walking back to your office you do the rest of your work left for the day, finishing up every pending task so you can be free for the weekend. When five o’clock finally comes you pack up and head out. Pushing through the double doors you step out into the warm July afternoon, immediately spotting a mop of curls you know all too well. Harry is waiting for you leant against his car with a huge bouquet of flowers, smiling at you with pride as he watches you cross the parking lot.

“What’s this for?” you ask teasingly when he pushes himself away from the car and kisses you softly before saying anything.

“A little something to celebrate your promotion.”

“How do you know I got it?” you ask, trying your best to sound serious. He narrows his eyes at you in suspicion.

“I knew you’d get it, who else would get it? Did they not fucking give it to you?” he asks, working himself up at the thought that you weren’t the one to get promoted.

“Relax, I got it,” you chuckle, wrapping your arms around his neck to kiss him a little longer this time.

“I was ready to fight whoever I needed to,” he mumbles against your lips, a smirk tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“What a gentleman,” you giggle pecking his lips again.

“That I am. And not just because I would throw a fist for my love, but because I knew you’d get it so I went ahead and booked us a mini vacation for this weekend. So let’s head home, you have thirty minutes to pack before we leave,” he smirks down at you, clearly satisfied with himself.

Harry is always full of surprises. In the one and half year you’ve been officially together, he never failed to surprise you with the tiniest things, make you feel loved and appreciated no matter how long you’ve been dating.

“Where are we going?” you ask in excitement, eyebrows shooting up on your forehead.

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

Harry listened to every hint you’ve dropped how you’d love to spend some time away in some cabin in the woods, disconnecting from the world just for a little and he found the perfect place for that a few hours away. He knew you’d be the one to get promoted so he took the risk to book it weeks ahead, making sure you’ll have the perfect place for the celebration. You have a slight guess it’s gonna be like that because Harry is great at taking hints, but what you doesn’t know is that deep down his already packed suitcase, there’s a little velvety box with a ring inside it that he plans to put on your finger this weekend, hoping you’ll give him the answer he wants to hear.

And you will. Because you are head over heels in love with this man, have been for a while and you want to spend the rest of your life with him.

The two of you head home and your hand finds his over the shifting gear, lacing your fingers together with his. Glancing at you he kisses your knuckles, pressing a long kiss to your empty ring finger.

“I love you,” he tells you and the three little words never fail to make your heart flutter. While the lamp is still red you quickly lean over and steal a kiss from his soft, pink lips.

“I love you too, professor,” you tell him teasingly. He didn’t like it when you called him that back when he was still just your professor, but since the air has been clear, he grew a liking to it, especially because he can’t get enough of hearing you moan it in the bedroom.

You call him a lot of other pet names too. Baby, H, Har, Sweets, whatever comes to your mind while he likes calling you his baby, Angel, Princess or Love. And as the two of you head home he thinks about how he wants two new names to be added to the list. Husband and wife.

 -

Thank you for reading! Please like and/or reblog if you enjoyed!

 @harrysgloves​

[anamatics]

From your prompts list - 81. “I feel like I’m being stabbed.” / “How do you even know what it feels like to be stabbed?” - this is Winter finding out about the time Weiss got impaled lol

okay first of all, ow. Second of all, enjoy my vague handwaving in some Bees Schnees directions.

Curfew, 1.7k

October in Atlas means the sun doesn’t come up until nine o’clock in the morning and goes down just after three in the afternoon. Weiss, the last time she came home, found herself unused to the long nights after spending much of her year in Vale hating how each day and night was, roughly, the same length. This time, she’s used to it in a way that no one else is. Blake hates it, hates the darkness and the cold, snuggling up to Yang each night once she thinks Weiss and Ruby have gone to sleep.

The problem is that Weiss doesn’t sleep well in Atlas. She sleeps better here, safely locked away behind the academy walls, than she has in her nearly two decades of life living in this kingdom. Part of it, she knows, is that Winter is two floors up in the officer’s quarters. This is the closest they’ve been to each other at night since Weiss was nearly eleven and Winter left and never came back.

Weiss turns over onto her back and stares up at the ceiling for a long moment. There’s no helping it. She shoves the duvet aside, tugs on a discarded sweatshirt from the pile on the floor, and slips out the door.

The hallways of the academy are dimly lit at this hour of the night, and Weiss wanders up to the balcony that overlooks the parade grounds just off the mess. She sits there, staring out at the city that’s been her prison for so much of her life.

A dream amongst the clouds and the cold, Atlas glows blue and beautiful the scant moonlight that breaks through the cover. Weiss’s breath fogs the window. She presses her palm to the glass. The coolness is grounding, it lets her drift.

The pressure at her side, the near constant ache since they left Mistral, rears its ugly head. Weiss curls her arm around herself, fingers curling against the glass. Close your eyes, push it away. It’s just phantom pain. Yang has it too.

If she doesn’t think about it, it will go away.

Yang told her that. You gotta just power through, it’ll pass.

Weiss inhales. Exhales. Counts the breaths.

This, too, shall pass.

The sound of approaching footsteps fills the hallway. Weiss’s fingers twitch already halfway to twisting the threads of her aura together to form a glyph. She stares at the figure in the reflection on the glass, still foggy with her breath.

“Technically, there is a curfew for cadets.”

Weiss’s lips twist into a lopsided smile. “Good thing I’m not a soldier.”

She’s met with a hum of agreement. Winter approaches, stopping just outside of Weiss’s reach. “It’s nearly midnight. Why are you awake?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Weiss tilts her head to look at her sister. Winter’s jacket is folded under her arm, her tie undone at her neck and three buttons on her shirt undone. She looks as wrecked as Weiss feels, dark circles under her eyes. Her hair is pulled back in messy bun, curling a bit as though she’s been out into the humid night air of Atlas this time of year.

Winter hesitates for a moment, before setting her jacket down on the bench Weiss is leaning against and settling down beside her. She smells a bit like smoke and a bit like booze and a bit like something Weiss cannot place. Perfume? No, that’s not quite right. Weiss’s eyebrows shoot up. Cologne?

A beat of comfortable silence fills the space between them. Winter’s thigh presses against Weiss’s. The traveler’s crease at the front of her trousers pulls flat as Winter stretches her leg out in front of them.

“So, why are you just getting in?”

Winter exhales. She definitely smells like cigarette smoke. “I had a social engagement.”

This is the sort of information that Weiss chews over, another piece of the secret life her sister’s lead since she left home. The one Weiss knows so little about, but the one she so clearly is still living. It is so alien, watching her sister interact with others – watching the easy way she speaks to Penny, the way General Ironwood trusts her implicitly and the Ace Ops clearly see her as a mentor. And yet Winter doesn’t seem to have friends outside of work. She seems to exist simply to work.

So it’s with some hesitation that Weiss nudges Winter’s shin with her foot, a teasing tone creeping into her voice. “You have a social life?”

“A… colleague asked me for a drink, catch up.” Winter shrugs, fiddles with her watch strap. Her eyes flick to Weiss, before they turn back to the shifting clouds over the city. “You haven’t been sleeping since you got here.”

And there’s no answer to that, other than the truth. Weiss pulls the sleeves of the sweatshirt – Yang’s sweatshirt that smells like Blake’s deodorant: earthy and crisp, like rosemary just pressed – and curls her hands around the fabric. “When I close my eyes in this place, it fells like all the air goes out of the room.”

“It was months before I slept soundly,” Winter confesses. Up close, Weiss thinks her eyes look like Mother’s at mid-day. Not quite all the way to drunk but not exactly sober. “I got caught out after curfew – one I had to mind – often because sleep wouldn’t come.”

“What did you do?” Weiss asks.

“Got a running habit.” Winter looks to Weiss. “And then some other, far less healthy ones.”

Nose wrinkling, Weiss hums. “You’d think you’d avoid it entirely, given how much it ruins things.”

Winter draws her knee up and wraps her arms around it. She rests her chin on her knee, eyes fixed straight ahead. She says nothing for long enough that Weiss wonders if she shouldn’t have said that at all. Her mind races, think for something she can say to fix it, when Winter says a non-sequitur, but one which recalls the original intent of her question. “There are restrictions as to who can access these premises, Weiss. With good reason.”

And as much as she wants it to matter, it doesn’t. He’s father, he can open any door, he can sniff out any lie. “It doesn’t matter.”

A warm weight settles over her shoulder and Winter’s fingers curl around her arm. Weiss leans against her, head tucked up under Winter’s chin like she did so often when they were children and hiding in some unused part of the house from Father’s rages.

“Sometimes,” the words are like sandpaper in Weiss’s mouth, “when I think about being back here, my heart beats so fast I feel like I’m being stabbed.”

“How do you even know what it feels like to be stabbed?”

Oh.

“Winter, something happened in Mistral.”

Weiss retreats from the warmth of her sister. She turns, sitting cross legged, and pulls her hand away from her side and tugs off the sweatshirt. The tank top she’s wearing underneath has already ridden up her stomach a bit and she tugs the hem up and looks away. Lets Winter see the scar. Lets Winter see her shame.

Eyes wide, Winter leans in, brushing her fingers against the raised skin at Weiss’s abdomen. With her hand there, Weiss is remined, yet again, that the scar is the size of Winter’s fist. “Weiss, this is…” Winter drags her eyes up to meet Weiss’s and her expression turns deathly serious. “What happened?”

“I looked away.” Weiss lets her tank top fall down back over the scar and pulls the sweatshirt over her head. “I was too slow and I looked away.”

“That wound would have – would have—”

“It didn’t.” Weiss knows her voice sounds harsh, but she refuses to admit what happened in that context. “But it was a close thing. If Jaune—"

Winter pulls her close again. “I should have stayed in Mistral. We could have delayed the withdrawal a few more weeks. I could have – I should have been there.”

There’s no reason for that, no reason for Winter to blame herself for this. “This isn’t your fault. I was the one who was too slow. I was the one who turned my back on Cinder Fall.”

“It’s my duty to protect you Weiss.”

“You said you wouldn’t always be around to save me,” Weiss points out.

“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t get the chance to try.”

And Weiss has nothing to say to that, because there is nothing to say. Winter will always talk a big game, but still want to be there, still want to try to do the right thing. It’s lost time, it’s making up for a lifetime of silences like the one that stretches out between them. One that’s uncomfortable when they’re so used to trading comfortable silences as a currency for survival.

It’s nice, leaning against Winter like this. Where Winter can be a solid, tangible object of support. Weiss inhales, Blake’s deodorant and Yang’s shampoo mingling with the strong, crisp scent of her sister’s cologne. Cologne. It’s then the question bursts, unbidden, from Weiss. “Were you on a date?”

Winter freezes, body stock still.

“Why… would you ask that?”

“You smell nice.”

“Are you implying I usually do not?”

“No, I mean that it’s nice. Your um…” Is it wrong to say what Weiss thinks it actually is? “Your perfume is nice,” she hedges.

“Well,” Winter says at length. “It’s not mine – and I’m pretty sure if asked, you’d be told it was cologne.” Winter’s fingers tangle in Weiss’s hair and she rests her cheek against Weiss’s head. “Someday I’ll tell you about her.”

And though she’s burning with a desire to know, though the her throws Weiss to the point where she feels like the ground is shifting underneath her, Weiss lets it go. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

“If that’s what you want.” Winter gets to her feet and collects her jacket.

Weiss follows.

(Weiss is pretty sure she’d follow Winter to the end of the world.)

[thegirlonpeetamellark]

Christmas Break - Part 1

Surprise!! After a looong time away Court returns to Everlark fic world with a little holiday treat for everyone  - enjoy! :)

Hi everyone. So 2020 has sucked. For me, the beginning of quarantine was actually a bit of a gift. Being home gave me the gift of time, something I haven’t had much of as my daughters (who were very little when I started writing in this fandom) have gotten older. While I never stopped writing, it was a struggle to find long enough chunks of time to get into a flow. I started writing again with earnest. Not all of it was my fanfiction; some of it was my original work. El keeps me posted on the humbling and kind asks she gets about my writing. I felt bad that despite my increased writing, I still wasn’t ready to update any WIPs. But I did remember a story I had started for the final holiday PiP that I was never able to get past the first page (due to lack of time that year) and to my surprise, it started flowing. I had every intention of finishing it and having El post it as a gift to this fandom. But once my school went “back” in October and hybrid learning started, that was it. My time was gone. And further, my family experienced the very sudden and non-Covid-related death of my aunt. So while I have nearly half of this story written, it’s not done. But it will be, very soon, since it is a one-shot. As with all my stories, it took on a life of its own and it needs more love. So what I have for the readers who have loyally followed me is the first part, the part that involves Christmas. It’s my hope to have a second part posted in a week or two, so that by the time that part posts, a final part is nearly done. 

Thank you for your asks and your patience, and thank you to El, one of my favorite people in this world and the best thing my time in this fandom has given me. Thank you for your encouragement. Our friendship means the world to me. 

Here’s to a better 2021. Love to you all. Court

Christmas Break

Fuck, not again, Peeta grouses as the opening notes of that insidious Mariah Carey song pipe through the loudspeaker. That’s the third time in the last two hours. He’s all for holiday spirit, but if he never hears this fucking song again it will be too soon.

Leaning his forehead against the cold pane of glass, he peers out of the fourth-story window into the darkened sky. When he had arrived at work a few hours ago, the snow had just been starting to fall; a slow, lazy tumble of flakes. Now it’s coming down in a tumultuous swirl. It figures Panem would finally see a white Christmas his first Christmas Eve on rotation in the emergency room. No doubt the weather is partially to blame for the crush of bodies crowding the waiting room tonight. 

Peeta walks away from the window and opens the cabinet where he stashes his Clif bars. The economy-sized box looks suspiciously closer to empty than it did the other day. He’s heard complaints from other doctors and nurses that snacks are pilfered on a regular basis and was warned to label his own boxes. But he had forgone the warnings. If someone needed an energy bar badly enough to steal one, what was the $20 he had spent on them at Costco. He snags one and unwraps it. 

He’s just raised it to his mouth when his Apple watch pings and his silenced cell phone pulses insistently against his thigh. Heaving a loud sigh, he sets down the energy bar and withdraws the phone from his pocket. 

“Mom, you’ve got exactly 60 seconds,” he grits out. He doesn’t even need to look at the screen to confirm it’s her. She’s called twice already tonight, calls he’s ignored with good reason, but somehow his mother thinks a phone call from her trumps any actual emergencies her doctor son could be dealing with. Which, tonight, have been nonstop since his shift began at six. 

“Please tell me you ate something,” she begins. 

“I was just about to, when you called,” he replies. “I’ve only got a couple of minutes. It’s been utter chaos for the last four hours.” 

“We missed you at dinner. I can’t remember the last Christmas Eve when I didn’t have all three of my boys together.” Peeta closes his eyes. All these years my mother has been gushing about having a doctor in the family, and yet she never stopped to consider the ramifications of actually having a doctor in the family, he thinks. Particularly its impact on holiday gatherings. She obviously hadn’t learned anything from this past Thanksgiving, as now, just a month later, she’s already dumping a fresh guilt trip on him for missing another family dinner.

She continues, “And Jackson and Maxwell were just devastated when they heard you weren’t coming, until I assured them they’d see you tomorrow. We will see you tomorrow, yes?” 

Peeta suppresses another exasperated sigh and breaks off a chunk of the Clif bar. “Yes, Mom, I’ll be there.” And though it’s childish, he crams the bar into his mouth and mumbles around it, “I wouldn’t miss it for anything.” His chewing masks the sarcasm that weighs down the words. 

“Excellent. We need an updated family portrait before Everly and Rye have to leave for her parents’ house.” Placated, his mother moves to ends the call, but not before getting in a less-than-subtle comment about how much she adores his brother Rye’s fiancée and how happy she is Rye is settling down. 

Staring at the disconnected call flashing on the screen, Peeta tries not to let the remark get to him. Mostly because he knows it’s a lie. His mother has complained more than once about Everly and how she’s not good enough for Rye. Peeta knows the dig was directed at him. He hasn’t truly had a serious girlfriend since junior year of college; just a few casual relationships that barely qualified as relationships. He doesn’t know how his mother expects him to meet someone with the hours he keeps. And his father, for as close as they are, never seems willing to jump to Peeta’s defense. 

Taking a deep breath to let his irritation suffuse, he jams his phone back in his pocket and scarfs down the rest of his pathetic dinner. All three bites of it. Then he uses the restroom, dutifully washes his hand, and stalks out of the staff lounge, his short break over.

As he strides up the corridor, he hears loud shouting coming from the ER waiting room. 

“…should be asleep in her bed, waiting for Santa Claus to come, but instead, we’re still here waiting for someone to take a look at her arm! It’s been over two hours! Don’t you people have any compassion? Or is Ebenezer Freaking Scrooge running this place tonight?”

Curious, Peeta veers towards the reception desk, where his eyes land on the ranting woman. She’s young, probably no older than her mid-twenties, and in spite of the fact that her dark hair is spilling out of a messy braid and she’s not wearing any makeup, Peeta is immediately struck by her beauty. The rosy flush to her cheeks from her tirade actually makes her even prettier. She’s cradling a toddler and protectively shielding the little girl’s right arm. The toddler’s blonde head rests on her mother’s shoulder, her thumb wedged into her tiny pink mouth. Her left arm clutches a stuffed orange cat. She looks tired. Actually, both mother and daughter do. 

“Miss, I understand your frustration, I really do,” the receptionist says calmly, her eyes cutting to Peeta as he stops by her side. He reads the name on the file on top of the stack, the next patient scheduled to be seen: MCMURPHY, JOSEPH. Clearly not the little girl in front of him. 

“I don’t think you do!” the young mother cries, her eyes flashing steel. “She’s three, she’s in pain, and she’s scared. And what’s more, I’ve seen at least five people go ahead of us who came in after us!” 

“That’s not how the emergency room works, miss,” the receptionist replies. She drums her fingertips on the desk, offering the young mother a tight smile. 

“It’s Christmas Eve,” the young mother adds, an edge of desperation creeping into her tone. Discreetly, Peeta moves around the receptionist’s chair, scanning the desktop until he spies the stack of files for the patients awaiting admission. While the receptionist continues to give the young mother the run-around, he thumbs through the stack, searching. His eyes land on what he’s looking for: a date of birth. His lips tip up. Bingo. This has to be it: HAWTHORNE, IVY ANN. 

At the exact second his hand snatches Ivy’s file from the pile and slips the other one in amongst the stack, the young mother’s eyes lock on his. Her gaze narrows. He can see the exhaustion all over her beautiful face. Her full lips twitch, her countenance suspicious as they stare at one another. 

“Ivy Hawthorne?” Peeta taps the file he had extricated. An immediate flicker of relief lights the young mother’s mercury eyes, and that lush mouth breaks into a grateful, relieved smile. The receptionist’s neck snaps up. “I’ve got this,” he adds, his tone leaving no room for her to argue with him. It’s not protocol for Peeta to take a patient directly, but it’s also not blatantly against the rules. Sure, it might mean a little more work for him, but if it means he can get this little girl home sooner on Christmas Eve, it’s worth it.

He smiles at the little girl. “Ivy, I’m Doctor Mellark. I’m going to help make you feel better, okay?” She nods once but doesn’t lift her head from her mother’s shoulder. Peeta’s arm sweeps to the side, ushering the young mother and Ivy past the desk. He scans the hallway and spies a partially drawn curtain halfway up the corridor. He leads them to the available partition and close the curtain behind them. As he turns to face them, he nearly slams into the woman. She hasn’t moved, and her luminous grey eyes fasten to his. She looks as if she’s going to say something, but several seconds pass and she’s still quiet, still watching him. The silence starts to become uncomfortable. Peeta clears his throat.  

“If you’d have a seat, please, Mrs. Hawthorne. You can hold her while I get some more information from you.” 

The young woman’s lips part slightly, again appearing as if she wants to say something, but instead she shuffles forward and Peeta waits while she settles on the edge of the hospital bed, gingerly adjusting Ivy so she’s sitting sideways across her mother’s lap. 

Peeta sinks down onto the stool and scoots towards the edge of the bed. This close he has a much better look at Ivy’s mother. She really is a beautiful young woman, and given how adorable Ivy is Peeta assumes her husband is probably also very attractive. He feels a twinge of jealousy. Lucky bastard. Pretty wife, cute kid…probably has a nice little house and a golden retriever too. Living the dream. His dream, if he allows himself to admit it to anyone but his mother. If he was being perfectly honest, he had always envisioned himself married by now. 

“How old are you, Ivy?” he ask, even though he knows from her chart and her mother’s declaration that she’s three years old. She hesitates, and still clutching the stuffed cat, manages to display three fingers. Peeta smiles at her again.

“I have a nephew who is the exact same age as you are. He told me just last week that he’s a big boy now. Are you a big girl, Ivy?” He keeps his tone gentle, hoping it will put her at ease with him. She nods, her big blue eyes lightening imperceptibly. “I thought so. Can you be a big girl and tell me what happened to your arm?” 

Her mother answers automatically, “She fell. I was only gone—” Peeta holds up his palm. He has the triage nurse’s initial assessment, so he knows Ivy’s arm is likely broken. What he doesn’t know is how the arm got broken. And those details he needs to try to get from Ivy herself. Kids her age always tell the truth when it comes to how they were injured, and unfortunately it’s part of Peeta’s job to make sure there isn’t a more sinister reason she’s in the E.R. tonight, no matter how sweet and innocent her mother appears. He’s already had a few encounters with suspected child abuse, though his gut tells him that isn’t the case with Ivy Hawthorne.

“Please. I would like Ivy to tell me how it happened.” 

Something dangerous flints in Ivy’s mother’s now stormy grey eyes.

“She. Fell.” The words are curt, enunciated coolly, but her voice is soft and Peeta can tell she’s keeping her temper in check for the benefit of her daughter. Eyes still pinned to his, she inhales deeply. A second later, her shoulders relax. “Go ahead and tell the nice doctor how you hurt your arm,” she whispers, stroking Ivy’s curls. 

“I was trying to see Santa,” Ivy replies, her tongue tripping in a lisp on the “S’s.” 

“What do you mean by that?” he prompts her. 

Ivy scrunches up her button nose. “I was trying to see up the chimney. ‘Cause the chimney at Aunt Katniss’s house is so skinny and Santa Claus is real fat and I don’t know how he’s gonna fit down it to bring me my presents!” Her blue eyes brim with tears and her lower lip starts to tremble. Peeta reaches over and pats her knee. 

“I wouldn’t worry about that, sweetheart. Santa Claus is magic. He’ll get you your presents, no matter what the chimney looks like.” He exchanges a look with her mother. 

“It was all my fault,” she says quietly. “I went in the kitchen, to get the cookies and milk—”

“And the carrots! For Rudolph and the other reindeer!” Ivy chimes in, her eyes shiny wet. 

“I never should have left her alone, not even for a second. This is my fault. It’s my fault. She wouldn’t have slipped and fallen off the hearth if I had been watching her.” Guilt chokes her words, and it sounds as if she’s close to tears. 

“Accidents happen, Mrs. Hawthorne,” Peeta says empathetically, “that’s why there are emergency rooms.” She presses her lips together, her brows knitting.  

“It’s Everdeen,” she says quietly. Peeta drops his eyes to Ivy’s chart, and furrows his brows, his gaze wandering to the young woman’s left hand. No ring. A brief thrill curls through him at the thought that she’s single. Asshole, he immediately chides himself. So not what you should be thinking about right now. He scans the chart more carefully and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, “but this lists Primrose Hawthorne as the mother, under the Parent/Guardian information, and a Rory Hawthorne as the father. I just assumed—”

She cuts him off. “Primrose Hawthorne was her mother. But I’m not Primrose Hawthorne. I’m Katniss. Katniss Everdeen. I’m her aunt. I should be listed as her primary emergency contact.” She swallows and squeezes her eyes shut briefly. When she opens them, they plead with his. Peeta glances down at Ivy, and then raises his eyes to Katniss again. The guilt that was clouding those silver irises a moment ago has dissipated, replaced with anguish. He doesn’t know what the full story is here, but he didn’t miss Katniss’s usage of the past tense in referring to Ivy’s mother. So he honors her silent appeal not to ask questions.

“Okay, Ivy, you fell, and you landed on your arm? I bet that hurt,” Peeta says to the little girl, but his gaze stays fastens on Katniss. She gives him the faintest smile and mouths, “Thank you.”

~*~*~*~

An hour later, the orthopedist informs Peeta that Ivy Hawthorne is ready for his approval to be discharged. Not wanting to keep her and her aunt waiting any later than necessary, he sets down the X-ray he had been studying, and heads back to where Ivy is. 

Standing outside the curtain, he hears quiet singing. He draws back the curtain and sees Katniss seated on the bed, with Ivy nestled in her lap. A bright pink cast safely cocoons the girl’s arm. Her blonde head rests on Katniss’s shoulder. Her eyes are closed, and her little body rises and falls with the deep breathing of sleep. 

Katniss continues to sing, unaware of Peeta’s presence. He doesn’t recognize the tune she’s singing. It’s not a Christmas carol, at least not one he’s ever heard before, but he continues to listen, captivated by her voice. It’s soft and decidedly feminine, but there’s raspy undercurrent to it that gives him chills. It’s like the first sip of a rich, smoky bourbon.

Gingerly, he tiptoes towards the bed and stands before her for several more minutes, until Katniss finally lifts her eyes. She immediately stops singing. Peeta smiles and nods towards Ivy.

“Someone is worn out,” he whispers. Katniss’s lips twitch into a chagrinned smile. 

“I’m sure the second we get home she’ll be wide awake and it’ll take forever to get her into bed. She was already amped up about Santa Claus before this.” She tips her head and gestures with her chin towards Ivy’s arm. 

“Warm milk. With a little bit of cinnamon,” he suggests. 

“Really?” Her eyes round. “Cinnamon? That really works?” Disbelief clouds her words. He shrugs sheepishly.

“I have no idea. No kids. And I’ve never had much trouble sleeping. I’m usually asleep the minute my head hits the pillow. But I’ve heard from a friend with a toddler that it does the trick.” He waits for her to say something—anything—in response, but she doesn’t. Her gaze is back on the sleeping toddler in her arms. 

Watching her stare tenderly at her niece causes something unexpected to claw at Peeta’s chest and he’s overwhelmed by a fierce compulsion to want to keep her here, to get to know more about her. It’s been a long time since he felt this kind of instant attraction to a woman. Why couldn’t he have met her under different circumstances? 

“Are we all done, doctor?” 

Peeta startles from his thoughts and offers Katniss an apologetic smile.

“Yes, sorry. You are good to go as soon as you sign here—” He holds the clipboard at an angle, to allow her to sign without having to disturb Ivy, “and here.” He flips the sheet back to the second page and she scrawls her name across the line there, too. Normally a nurse would go over discharge papers and protocol with patients, but Peeta had taken it upon himself to grab Ivy’s. He needed to spend every possible minute in Katniss’s presence. 

Once the release forms are complete, he review the plan for Ivy’s follow-up care, including how to manage any pain she has and when she’ll need to return to have the cast removed. Katniss listens attentively. 

When he’s finished, she stands up slowly, her movements tentative so as not to jostle Ivy. A sigh parts the little girl’s lips and she stirs, but she remains asleep. God, she’s cute, Peeta thinks. 

“Thank you, Dr. Mellark,” Katniss says softly. “For everything. I know what you did…” She falters. “I mean, I know we, ah, weren’t next, and ah…” Peeta waves a hand dismissively, sensing her discomfort with his hijacking of the queued patients.  

“It was my pleasure,” he replies. “Little girls should be home on Christmas Eve. Waiting for Santa.” He echoes Katniss’s earlier words. “I hope he’s good to her.” 

He doesn’t miss the forlorn expression that flits across Katniss’s face as she glances down at her sleeping niece. 

“He can’t bring her what she wants most, but he’ll try,” she murmurs and moves towards the open curtain. Just before she steps out into the hall, she pauses and turns to face Peeta.

“Merry Christmas,” she adds.  

“Merry Christmas,” he concurs. With a faint smile, she steps around the curtain. It rustles in her wake and resettles. Peeta exhales and slumps against the wall, regret washing through him, followed by a stronger wave of sadness at seeing Katniss go. If it hadn’t been for Ivy, he might have concocted some kind of delay to keep Katniss here longer, found some excuse to pry more information out of her. Like if she’s single. A surge of adrenaline spikes in his blood. He can’t let her go this easily.

He bolts out into the corridor, scanning the bustling hallway for any sign of Katniss and Ivy, but they’ve vanished. Disappointed, his shoulders slump as he trudges towards the nurses’ station to hand off Ivy’s file. 

It’s probably best, a nagging little voice inside him taunts, and he reluctantly concedes that it probably is. As much as he’d love to finally shut his mother up and find a woman that he’d want to spend more than a night with, it’s not fair to subject one to the kind of schedule he has to keep. New doctors are low-man-on-the-totem-pole. He’s had mostly graveyard shifts and he’s often on call. It’s his dream to have a pediatric practice, but he’s well aware that he’ll have to toil for a couple of years to get on track to make that dream a reality. 

A few minutes later, en route to his next examination, Peeta spies Johanna, one of the triage nurses, coming out of the room Ivy had occupied. His eyes immediately narrow when his gaze lands on her left arm.

“Was that in there?” He motions towards the vacated room and then nods towards the stuffed cat Johanna has wedged under her armpit. 

“What, the cat? Yeah. It must have fallen under the bed. I’ll take it to the station, in case someone comes back to claim it.” 

Ivy’s cherubic little face flashes in Peeta’s mind. He remember how fiercely she had been clutching that cat, and how she had reluctantly agreed to put it down when it had been time for Delly, another one of the triage nurses, to take her for X-rays. 

Peeta’s pulse quickens and he immediately thrusts his hand towards Johanna. “I’ll take it,” he says impulsively. She wrinkles her nose and cocks her head, her hazel eyes intensely scrutinizing him. Though they have a casual friendship, Johanna is far too insightful for her own good. Peeta doesn’t really need her questioning his motives for taking possession of the toy. 

“The little girl it belongs to goes to preschool with Max. I’ll make sure he takes it to her after the holiday break.” Fuck, that lie flew off his tongue so easily he almost believes it himself. Johanna shrugs and tosses Peeta the cat. 

“Suit yourself. One less thing to overflow the Lost and Found.” She strides past him and disappears into Triage 6. He stares down at the stuffed animal. His heart skips another beat and a slow smile tugs at his mouth. 

~*~*~*~

Stifling another yawn, Peeta squints at the numbers above the garage. He’s definitely in the right place. He kills the engine and sits for a moment, glancing at the clock on the navigation system. It’s quarter after nine. Early, but not obscenely so. When his shift had ended at six am, he had driven home and fought the urge to crawl into bed; instead, he grabbed a quick shower and freshened up. True, part of him hadn’t wanted to see Katniss Everdeen again looking like the bedraggled, exhausted mess he was at the end of a rotation, and also true, he was going to have to clean up before he’s due at his parents’ house at one. But he also knew he couldn’t really have shown up at Katniss’s house at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning, even if he suspects Ivy likely had her up by then. He recalls, with a wistful smile, that Christmas morning was the one morning he and his brothers were always awake before his father. It was only a question of which Mellark brother was going to be the first to rouse the others. Him being the youngest, it was usually him, he admits with a wider grin.

He quietly exits his car, careful not to slam the door, and gingerly steps across the icy driveway. He pauses at the un-shoveled front walk, where a pristine blanket of snow blocks his path. “Shit,” he whispers, gritting his teeth as he takes the first step. His foot plunges into the deep drift, up to nearly his calf. He braces himself and takes a huge step, hoping to eat up the distance in a few long strides. Fortunately, it’s not a long front walk. He reaches the also un-shoveled front steps and carefully ascends them. He contemplates ringing the doorbell, but instead raps his knuckles against the door. His breath pipes out in white plumes and he rubs his palms together for warmth as he waits. 

No one comes to the door, at least not immediately. Peeta lifts his fist again, but just before his knuckles can connect with the wood again, the front door opens a crack and he’s suddenly looking at Katniss. Those silver eyes round almost comically as recognition lights them. 

“D-Doctor Mellark? Wh-what are you….”  

“Hi. Merry Christmas,” he begins. “I thought Ivy would be missing this.” He smiles and holds up the stuffed cat. 

Katniss stares at him, her lips parting faintly, and shock and confusion war on her pretty face. But then her grey eyes darken with what Peeta can only describe as restrained fury. 

She opens the door fully and glares at him.  

“You had Ivy’s cat?” she accuses. 

“Uh…yeah…” he stammers, his own confusion welling. Why is she so angry? “My nephew…he has a bear. Otis. Can’t sleep without that thing. I thought if Ivy is anything like Max…well, she’d be missing this.” He holds the cat out to Katniss. She snatches it so violently that she stumbles backwards. Peeta is equally jarred, but his jolt is from the very brief brush of Katniss’s fingers against his when she had grabbed the toy. 

But Katniss gives him no time to revel in the feeling.

“So this is why no one at the hospital had a goddamned clue what I was talking about when I called there looking for this cat an hour ago!” she spits. 

Shit, Peeta thinks, an uneasy feeling clawing its way into his gut. 

“Why the fuck—” He can’t help but notice her slight hesitation before she lobs the obscenity at him. “—would you take my niece’s cat? Is this something normal people do?” She’s shivering visibly as she rants, a clear consequence of stepping onto her front porch wearing nothing but green plaid pajama pants and a threadbare black Henley shirt.

“I….I…” He shakes his head. He’s not even sure how to defend his actions. He can’t very well tell her his ulterior motives in bringing the stuffed cat back to her niece. Not now. He definitely fucked this up.

“I was just trying to be nice. That I’d save you a trip on Christmas morning,” he finishes lamely. 

Katniss’s nostrils flare and her jaw flexes. “Christmas morning,” she mutters, just barely audible over the clattering of her teeth. “Did it occur to you, Dr. Mellark, that I might be looking for Ivy’s cat and I might call the hospital looking for this cat?” She shakes the toy in his face. “And did it occur to you that, in spite of all the toys she had just opened, Ivy might be bawling and throwing a fit because Buttercup was missing?”

Buttercup, he has to assume, is the stuffed cat.

She pauses, as if waiting for him to defend himself, but all he can do is swallow against the lump crowding his throat.

So she continues, “They made me think I was crazy—but not until after they left me on hold for 20 minutes while I tried to calm a wailing toddler. And then they said there was no toy matching this description in the Lost and Found. And that’s because you had it!” Her eyes are a maelstrom now, but he notices that an edge of frustration has crept into her furious tone. 

“And now Ivy doesn’t have it. So thank you. Thank you very much, Dr. Mellark. Merry Christmas.” And before Peeta can release the breath he’s been holding during her outburst and plead his case, she whirls around, her disheveled braid lancing through the air like a whip, and slams the door behind her. Stunned, Peeta can only stare at the wreath on the door as he processes what just happened.  

What. The. Fuck. 

Heart pounding, gut churning, Peeta retreats to his car. He takes a few minutes to absorb the shock of his encounter with Katniss, his mind reeling through the accusations she made. He never would have expected her to react like this. So much for any shot with Katniss Everdeen. 

He finally gathers his composure and navigates out of her complex. As he drives, his mind continues replaying Katniss’s words over and over, and he finds one thing nags at him. 

And now Ivy doesn’t have it.

Those words don’t make much sense to him. He just gave the stuffed animal back to Katniss. She can give it back to Ivy. She’ll have it now. In her wrath, Katniss just wasn’t being rational, he decides. 

But her words continue to haunt him off and on for the rest of the day. Along with persistent images of Katniss that further torment him. She is never far from his conscious thoughts. As he sits down next to the fireplace in his parents’ house with a tumbler of scotch to exchange gifts with his brothers and his nephews, he finds himself wondering who Katniss is celebrating with. Ivy, obviously. But does she have other family? 

By the time the Mellarks all settle around the table for dinner, he’s conjured up the notion that Katniss may not be married, but she surely has a devoted boyfriend who is showering her with gifts at this very moment. Her mood is infinitely better than what Peeta witnessed earlier. She’s probably dressed nice for him, and he’s sitting around her dining room table with Katniss and Ivy, like a makeshift family.

His mother’s irritation is palpable when she has to command his attention twice to try and draw him into the discussion centered on Rye’s upcoming wedding. Peeta murmurs the apology he knows she expects and feigns his dutiful brotherly interest for Rye’s benefit the remainder of the meal. But a dull ache has taken up residence in the center of his chest and he realizes just how badly he wants what his brothers have. 

He just won’t be having it with Katniss Everdeen.

[lets-steal-an-archive]

'Golden Girls' Polishes Its Scripts: Daily Revisions Geared to Sharpen Story and Hone Those Laugh Lines

TRUE OR FALSE:

Actresses Bea Arthur, Estelle Getty, Rue McClanahan and Betty White write their own dialogue for "The Golden Girls." (FALSE)

Older female writers write all 25 episodes each season because no one else could understand the problems of older females. (FALSE)

In order to keep the shows consistent from week to week, one writer prepares all the episodes. (FALSE)

Ten staff writers work together to prepare a season's worth of scripts. (TRUE)

It's a Monday morning in early October and on a sound stage at the small Renmar Studios in Hollywood, the "golden girls" have gathered to read a new script. This will be episode No. 60 of the series and it will air about three weeks later — on Halloween.

Everyone in the room has heard about this week's story line: Rose writes a letter to Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev. But apart from the writers, no one has seen the final script until now. It was completed on a Saturday, photocopied 150 times on Sunday and distributed this morning to NBC; co-producer Touchstone Pictures; the show's creator, Susan Harris; the show's lawyers and researchers, and the "Golden Girls" cast and crew.

"Hopefully, they'll laugh," murmurs head writer Kathy Speer as she prepares to hear the "table reading." "If they don't, we'll be here fixing the script for a long time."

The table reading really is at tables — eight of them arranged in a rectangle. The actresses and guest actors sit on one side, facing the writers. To the actresses' left are director Terry Hughes, executive producers Paul Junger Witt and Tony Thomas and co-executive producers/head writers Speer and Terry Grossman. To the actresses' right sit NBC representatives, the show's casting director and props and wardrobe personnel.

They begin. Director Hughes reads the stage directions: Interior, kitchen — day. Sophia is seated at table. She is reading book entitled 'Magic Made Easy.' Dorothy enters.

Bea Arthur, as Dorothy, reads: "Hi, Ma."

Estelle Getty, as Sophia, reads: "Give me your watch."

Another week is under way. As the actresses go through their lines, everyone else listens intently. They laugh (or don't laugh) and take notes. By the Friday-night tapings, this script will need to play at 22 minutes. But Friday is a long way off.

As soon as the table reading ends, the writers, producers, director and an NBC program executive huddle to discuss script changes. Then, while the actresses begin rehearsals using the first draft, the writers rush off to their yellow stucco two-story building nearby to begin rewriting.

"The secret of TV half-hour comedy shows is the revisions," explains Dean Valentine, NBC director of current comedy and also the program executive on "Golden Girls." "What they start out with is 75% away from what they end up with."

"I don't think this episode is going to need much work," co-head writer Terry Grossman announces cheerfully on his way back to his office. "It got a good response at the table. We just have to cut it, smooth out transitions and clarify some story points. New jokes will be the tough thing." He anticipates a few hours' work.

"Early in the first season we were throwing out whole scenes," he recalls. "Now we know what works for each lady and what she does best. That's the advantage of being in the third year of the show. The disadvantage is that stories are harder to come by."

Grossman heads into the office he shares with his wife Speer, who is also his writing partner. They are in charge of the writing staff. "That means we are the two who get yelled at the most when something goes wrong," he jokes.

Also piling into the conference-sized room are supervising producers Barry Fanaro and Mort Nathan and producer Winifred Hervey. Despite their titles, Grossman explains, "We're all writers."

"We are the five most dull people," Nathan insists.

"We're much funnier on paper," Hervey adds.

These five, all in their 30s, met when they worked on "Benson," an earlier Witt-Thomas-Harris series. They have been with "Golden Girls" since the beginning, and every Monday they jointly rewrite the script being taped that week. They jokingly call themselves The Gang of Five.

While they start rewriting, the show's other five staff writers — Chris Lloyd, Jeff Ferro, Frederic Weiss, Robert Bruce and Martin Weiss — go back to their own offices to work on new scripts.

"To keep quality, you like as many writers as you can afford," Speer explains. "This year, we have six 'entities' (writing teams) — four sets of partners and two individuals. And we also use a few free-lance scripts each season."

Approximately 25% of the show's budget goes to the writers, executive producer Tony Thomas says. Staff writers on a comedy series earn a weekly salary plus separate payments for completed scripts. A free-lance writer who does a story outline, a first draft and a second draft can earn about $11,000. (Note: All outside script submissions must come through agents.)

"A good comedy requires a lot of teamwork, a lot of people sitting in a room working together," Thomas emphasizes. "A good team is rare, but it's not extremely rare. It's like winning the NBA title. We had it in 'Soap,' and we had it for some years in 'Benson.' Obviously this is one of the most successful staffs we’ve ever put together."

Both Witt and Thomas deal with day-to-day details on "Golden Girls." Harris, who created the series, is less involved this season because, according to Thomas, "She is working on a feature for Disney with us. But she reads all the scripts and is familiar with most of the stories."

Flashback to the previous Friday, a week when "Golden Girls" wasn't taping. Every fourth week during the season, the show shuts down, giving the actors and crew a rest and allowing the writers to catch up.

The Gang of Five is trying to explain how their writing process works. They insist on telling, rather than showing, because, as they say, they're shy. "At the beginning of the season, even having our new writers in the meeting made me a little uncomfortable," Grossman admits. "It slowed down the process."

"One of the most important things that exists with this group is that the bottom line is making the show as good as possible. It's still very difficult when your script is read for the first time and the material doesn't work. It hurts for a moment. But there's no time to take it personally. It didn't work, and the clock is ticking. You better keep moving and get it right."

Like all sitcoms, "Golden Girls" has a "bible," a book that synopsizes everything that has happened on a series. Thus, new writers don't have to watch all the previous episodes. But there is no master plan of what will happen in the future.

The idea for "Letter to Gorbachev" surfaced last May at a beginning-of-the-season meeting of the writers and producers. "It was one of 20 or 30 story notions kicked around," Barry Fanaro recalls. The obvious similarity to Samantha Smith's letter to then-Soviet leader Yuri Andropov isn't mentioned.

"Most of them didn't work,” adds Fanaro's writing partner Mort Nathan, "but this one sounded amusing. Because Rose is a childlike character, we wondered what would happen if she wrote a letter to Gorbachev about world peace. We started fleshing it out, but we couldn't think of a second act. We went round and round, and finally six weeks later we came up with a way to make the story work."

"The five of us went over it scene by scene and agreed it was workable," Fanaro continues. "Then Mort and I went off and wrote it. It took about 10 days because we were also working on other things."

Each "Golden Girls” episode is written to a formula: "the idea, the act break and the resolution," Grossman explains. "Usually there's an 'A' story and a 'B' story going. It's the natural structure."

Although Fanaro and Nathan, who won a writing Emmy last year for a "Golden Girls" episode, wrote the basic Gorbachev script, the story the audience will see has gone through the usual "Golden Girls" grinder: The Gang of Five read and dissect the first draft, adding new scenes, new lines, new jokes. "It's really a team effort," Grossman stresses.

The jokes can be the easiest part — or the hardest. "They're only hard to write when you've got one that isn't working," Grossman says. "A joke in the middle of a scene can be weak, but the 'out joke' — a snappy one-liner that ends the scene on a laugh — has to be strong."

"We may decide a scene needs a new opening," Speer explains. "There will be a long moment of silence. Then someone will ask if anybody's eaten at some new restaurant. In the course of conversation, somebody will say, 'Wait a minute. I have an idea.'"

"With five of us, at least one of us is paying attention," Hervey deadpans.

"Good writers should be able to write for men, women, old or young," Grossman says. "We all draw on other people in our lives — parents, grandparents. Part of the reason for the show's popularity is that these are very vital people. The very same story you've seen 100 times on every sitcom takes on new light with characters in this age group. That makes life easier for us.

"Also, these four actresses are sensational. To have the entire cast be able to give such high-caliber performances means you don't have to adjust your material. You write the material, and they deliver. If they can't make it work, there's something wrong with the material."

The week goes by quickly. On Tuesday morning, the "golden girls" read over the revised script and discover that one scene has changed considerably. Some lines have been cut, while others have been sharpened. There are several new jokes. A press conference scene has been shifted from a hotel room to the ladies' living room.

On Tuesday night, the Gang of Five works late. During the day's rehearsals they realized that the revised scene didn’t play well so they jettisoned it and added some new dialogue and a few more jokes.

Following Wednesday's rehearsals, they hone the script a little more. Time is pressing. By the Thursday afternoon dress rehearsal, the actresses try to be script-perfect, although they often aren't. By now, the original 52-page script has been reduced to 50 pages, and almost every page has had at least one alteration.

For instance, on Monday when Blanche accidentally spat Coca-Cola on a Soviet Embassy official, he responded by saying, "No apology necessary." Now he says, "No need to apologize. In Moscow, we have to stand in line four hours to get this."

Late Friday afternoon, the audience files into Renmar Studios to watch the first taping. The writers are standing by, just in case a last-minute problem occurs. During the 90-minute dinner break, while a new audience is arriving, the cast, writers and producers calmly discuss how to improve the second taping. A few lines are cut, the taping is completed, and it’s on to the next week.

Source: Mills, Nancy. 1987. 'Golden Girls' Polishes Its Scripts: Daily Revisions Geared to Sharpen Story and Hone Those Laugh Lines. Los Angeles Times, October 30, https://www.latimes.com/archives/la-xpm-1987-10-30-ca-11702-story.html

[unmaskedagain]

Raise yourselves up (We’re done)

Two prompts in one; let’s do this. I tweaked the ideas a bit though.

 It was Bustier who broke the news to Marinette and Chloe, and she did it once again the most inappropriate fashion, “-And so the class feels it would be best if both of you were excluded from the class trip at the end of the year.” She finished. The class was just about to let out and she told the two girls in front of them all.

There were mean snickers and smug looks from the other students. The ones who just avoid the girls’ gazes; Adrien, Juleka, and Rose. The three had decided to stay out of it and just side with the majority. Marinette and Chloe had become best friends after Lila had gotten her hooks into class the year before. She turned all of Marinette’s dearest friends to ex-friends and turned them into bullies. That was fine with Marinette. She was done with two-faced people; done with turn-coats, and cowards. Marinette didn’t need them. Or want them. Chloe at least had the guts to stand on her own two feet and for what she believed in. It was a new year and a new Marinette.

Neither blond nor bluenette blinked.

“That’s fine,” Marinette shrugged. “It will be a relief not to have to fundraise for the trip.”

Chloe smirked, “Ditto. A trip to New York City, completely unfunded by the school, is going to be a lot to pay for.”

“They’ll have plenty of time though,” Marinette hummed. “A little less than a year.” The two girls cast them cool looks, “Good luck!” They chimed as the bell rang.

No one understood why they didn’t react the way they thought. Alya had expected tears from Marinette. Rage from Chloe. Then apologies and promises to do better. In fact, they all did. But they didn’t get it. Instead, they were left wondering why the two girls laughed their way out of the classroom.

It would take them months to realize.

Both girls knew though. Chloe always managed to convince her parents to fund thirty percent of whatever grand trip the class took every year. Marinette managed to put together enough amazing fundraisers to raise sixty percent of the funds needed. Everyone else in class only ever managed to pull together the last ten percent. Barely.

The next day the brand new World Travelers’ Club announced their formation and invited anyone to join. A few members of the class perked up until they heard Marinette and Chloe were the presidents. Instead, the class bashed the club and joked it was the girls’ lame attempt at making friends.

That was the last they heard of the club.

To the rest of the students of Bustier’s class’s credit, they attempted right away to start fundraising plans. However, no one in the class knew just when they should start and no one had any unique ideas; they only had a car cash fundraiser, the usual bake sale, maybe a raffle. Standard stuff they were sure would work. After Marinette, the former class president, and resident bully as far as they were concerned, always started off with those. Never realizing that she only started out with them at the very beginning of the year, and never stopped there. Nor did they realize just how much planning went into each event.

 The class's first event was a car wash in November. It was a poor idea, as the weather had begun to take a turn for the worst and barely any cars showed up. They hosted it at the school figuring people would want to help out school children. Nino played music. And all the friends had a blast. But the kids made a total of 143 dollars a days’ worth of work. They vowed their next fundraiser would be better.

During the two months, Marinette and Chloe and the rest of the World Travelers’ club; Kagami, Claude, Aurore, Marc, Luka, Ondine, and a bunch of other students who always wanted to see the world fundraised like crazy. They decided that their class trip would be to six different places; Los Angeles, Star City, Central City, Metropolis, Gotham, and finally New York City. It would be a tour.  They would spend two weeks in each city, touring and visiting, before moving on to the next. Each city had its own highlights and hotels that need to be arranged and paid for. Marinette did the math; they would need to raise a little less than $35,000 to pay for everything. She made it an even $40,000 to be safe.

Marinette set up a go fund me page an hour later. It wouldn’t be easy but Marinette knew they could do it if they worked hard and fast. (She only half-heartedly glared at Chloe when two grand mysteriously was donated to the club’s go-fund-me five minutes after she announced it the class. She did glare when Jagged and Clara both gave five grand each to their favorite designer and faux-niece. But stopped when Kagami said her mother was also donating $3,000 to the club.)

A week after the club’s formation, they had their first fundraiser. A car wash. Marinette knew it was best to get that one done as soon as possible while the summer heat was still around. It went great. They had it at a local park. Chloe played music off her phone. During the event, they sold ice cream and other cold sweets. Ondine had the great idea of selling full water balloons to children so they could run around. Marc sold quick funny Caricatures of customers. They raised a total of $2752, minus the two hundred for expenses that Chloe and Mariette fronted themselves.

The second fundraiser Bustier’s class held was a bake sale. It was in the middle of December and more or less a last-minute idea. Alya spearheaded the event, remembering how much money they pulled in from the last bake sale. She had the smart idea of doing it during a pep rally. Only to remember at the last minute that Marinette usually supplied all the best goods freely given from the bakery. Or made them herself. It didn’t take a genius to know that Alya nor any of the class would be welcome in the bakery based on the cold looks Tom and Sabine had given Alya last time she went in with her mother. So Alya declared all the kids would make their own goods.

…Four people got food poisoning; one of them was Kim. Most of the baked goods were dry and hard and virtually unappealing. Rose’s sugar cookies sold well but mostly because they were one of the few things that tasted and looked good. The class made a total of 128 bucks. They were lucky they weren’t sued.

The World Travelers’ club’s second fundraiser was actually a pool party at Chloe’s. She had led the entire event. The weather was still hot. They got Luka and his new band My Shadow’s Wonderland to play; Kitty section had sadly broken up due to Lila’s schemes months before. The club members sold tickets to get in. They also sold food: hot dogs, hamburgers, veggie burgers, ice cream, and funnel cakes. Kagami sold Balloon which caused her friends to do double-takes. Because Kagami knew how to make balloon animals, what in the world? Marinette and Marc did face paint and temp tattoos. Nearly everyone from school showed up. Even Bustier’s class, though they hadn’t seemed to realize The World travelers’ club was hosting. They earned a total of $3101. Marinette had long since learned the greatest trick of the fundraiser; don’t let make it obvious it’s a fundraiser. Make it fun and people would come.

Their third fundraiser happened two weeks later just at the beginning of October. It was Claude’s idea and he called it; “Can you Arcade it?” No laughed but he thought it was hilarious. They had got permission to use the gym to set up a video Gamers’ paradise. He got this idea when he heard the old arcade had finally shut down after Mr. and Mrs. Gladstone had opted to retire. He got the couple to donate the old game machine for a day to help them out. Claude only had to babysit their pet Parakeet for two weeks while they were out of town. Old arcade games line the walls. New games with TV borrowed from the club members were set up with the new game systems. They sold food and anything they thought a gamer would want. Aurore somehow got the local Taco Bell to sponsor the event so ever twenty minutes or so they had a deal with commercial playing in the background. This fundraiser attracted most parents with younger children; though a good percent was just nostalgic dads who ended up playing the games as much as the kids. $1700 was earned; most of it in quarters.

 Their next fundraiser happened at the end of October and it was a haunted house; or rather a haunted school. They teamed up with a few other clubs to put the event together. They didn’t earn that much money; $300 after it was split between the clubs. However, all the kids had a ton of fun.

When November hit, and the weather turned cold, and everyone wanted everything pumpkin spice. (And Bustier’s class first fundraiser was about to happen) Marinette held did her bake sale. She with the help of the other members of the club made all the sweets; for once she didn’t have to get her parents to donate the baked goods. In additional, Marinette and the gang sold handmade little dolls of Ladybug and Chat Noir and the new miraculous heroes that had replaced the last team. The dolls were a big hit. Such a hit that Chloe got the idea of marketing them online for a much better price. The fundraiser earned about $600 bucks which weren’t bad.

Chloe and Marinette started selling the dolls for $10 bucks each plus shipping and handling. Chloe and Marinette made the dolls. The others took care of the shipping part. The

dolls only cost 2 bucks to make, as they were mostly yarn, so they profited 8. Chloe said that was how the business made money.

By the time December hit, they were had raised more half of their overall target goal.

During the fundraisers, each kid used their own influence via social media to get people to go their Go-Fund-me page. Luka and his band, all of who members of the club anyway, used Youtube and Instagram to promote their bands also asked fans to make a donation. Aurore used her Ladybug site Bugout to ask her fans. Ondine did swim training videos did the same. Marc who did drawing tutorial asked too. They didn’t get a lot from; a dollar here, three there, maybe a five if they were lucky but every bit count.

Their next fundraiser was a raffle in one of the empty unsure ballrooms of Chloe’s hotel, and it happened not long before Christmas break. This was spearheaded by Aurore. The strategy was sound; most people were still rushing to get presents. All they have to do was bid on the item they want. She got local businesses to donate. A fancy dinner from one restaurant, a bouquet of roses, expensive perfumes, a massage chair; a bunch of gift cards of various stores. Chloe got her dad to donate two items a spa day and a luxury Spa weekend. Marc offered art lessons. He also auctioned off some of his portraits. Ondine offered swim lessons. Aurore got offered a meet-and-greet with Ladybug, who even showed up to make an appearance. Kagami offered sword fighting lessons. Luka offers guitar lessons. His bandmate, Naomi, offered drum lessons. Another girl, Bridgette offered piano lessons. Marinette offered her usually big-ticket item; a custom design by MDC. The night was a hit. Once again, Marinette’s item was one of the highest bid items of the night. All in all, the kids brought in a total of $4728.

January came and Bustier’s class decided it was time for another fundraiser. Just as the World’s traveler’s club decided it was time for a break. Though they still sold the dolls; which had brought in $1800 since they had started selling them; Ladybug and her crew apparent had fans all over the world. This meant by the time February hit, they had just over $10,000 left to raise and five months to do it. They would leave at the beginning of June. They already paid for all of their plane tickets and paid for their hotel rooms. All their tours booked and paid for. All reservations made. And then reconfirmed by a rather stern Chloe. Passports were bought.

Bustier’s fundraiser idea was once again headed by Alya, the new class president after Lila decline the role as she would be far too busy. Alya decided a raffle would be perfect. The one they did the year before had been amazing. Again, Alya forgot that Marinette and Chloe handled nearly everything which was why it was such a big hit. Alya had to use the school gym.

“It’s not like I’d ask Chloe,” Alya huffed to her boyfriend. “I’m just glad I won’t have to deal with her or Marinette on our trip.”

“You said it, babe,” Nino leaned back in his desk. “No need for that kind of drama.”

The raffle was their most successful fundraiser so far much to Alya smug face when Marinette and Chloe walked into class on Monday.  All the kids in the class participated and offered their own talents for use; offering lessons or gift cards from their parents' businesses. Their biggest hit was a picture and an autograph from Adrien Agreste.

“We raised over a thousand dollars,” Alya crossed her arms. A satisfied look on her face. She had worked hard. They had all worked hard. “Beat that!”

Marinette and Chloe shared a look before they literally fell to the ground laughing. “I can’t!” Chloe gasped for air. “I can’t breathe!”

Marinette struggled to contain herself, “This! I!” She couldn’t even get out the words. She was laughing so hard.

They didn’t even bother to pay the glares they received any attention. It was just too funny.

For the rest of the week, it was the running joke between them. Every now and then, the other students in the class would “Beat that!” And laughter from the back of the room.

February came and the kids decided in anticipation for Valentine ’s Day. They would do a Date Auction. It was Ondine’s idea and it was a huge success. Surprising considering it, it was supposed to be simple and easy and something to get them back into the fundraiser's mood after a month's breath. Most of the kids now had a strong online following and become popular among the youth of Paris for their awesome parties. So when word spread that the World Travelers’ Club was doing a date auction; a lot of students from school showed up. A lot of students from other schools showed up. One girl traveled from England specifically for Luka.

Marinette, followed by Chloe, Then Luka, then Kagami, then Aurore was the highest auctioned date of the night. Claude and Felix were both a little put out. Marc didn’t mind. Mostly because of the best looking guy at the auction bid on him.

All in all, they raised $2100.

The next fundraiser was in March. The spring warm weather had hit in full. Flowers were blooming. The fundraiser was a carnival Luka planned. Everyone set up carnival booths and games and fun prizes. Live music. They had it in on the school soccer field. A lot of parents with their kids showed up, looking for a family-friendly event to enjoy. Total they raised $2421.

Marinette’s dolls brought in an additional $900. Then it was official they only needed 5,000 more.

Bustier’s class tried another fundraiser; a dance party in the school gymnasium; hosted by Nino. They sold tickets to get in, snacks and drinks. They put off filers everywhere and did everything they could to promote the event. They made $750 dollars. And were proud.

 In April, the World travelers’ club did another bake sale and another car wash and a ping pong tournament was a really big hit for some reason. By the end of April, they had met their goals. All loose ends tied up. All the tickets bought. Permissions slip signed.  Four teachers, who were more than excited to volunteer to spend near all-expense-paid vacation in the most popular cities in the world, would be chaperoning. They were done.

By the first Monday of May, Chloe and Marinette breathed a sigh a relief as the stress had finally left their shoulders. The only thing they had to worry about was packing, and they had a month to do it.

The two girls once again arrived to see the smug grins of the classmates' faces. Bustier’s class had been fundraisers like crazy so much so that even the teacher was looking over her students proudly.

“We’ve raised $5,829,” Lila announced. The Italian girl looked smug as she had done al the work. “Fundraising was hard but we did what we had to.”

“Way better then we did under the last class president,” Alya hissed.

Marinette and Chloe looked at each other again. It was Chloe who spoke, “So you’re not going to New York?”

The question caught everyone off guard.

“What?” Alya hissed. “Of course we’re going to New York!”

Marinette sighed, “No, WE” She pointed between her and Chloe, “And the World Traveler’s club is going to New York and a bunch of other places. We raised over $40,000.” Most of the students turned green.

“$40- $40,000,” Nino stuttered. “What? how?”

“We worked hard, like we always,” Chloe flipped her hair. “That was our goal since September. Its how much it would cost to pay for the entire trip. For every member and required chaperones to go. Why? What was your goal?”

It went quiet. Alya spoke next, “Goal?”

           Again, Chloe and Marinette

“Goal,” Marinette nodded. “The amount you needed to fund the entire trip to New York?”

“We didn’t have a goal,” Rose answered.

The two girls stared at them.

“What airline are you using?” Chloe asked. “How much do the tickets cost?”

No answer.

“What hotel are you staying at?”

No answer.

“Did you get your passports yet?”

Nothing.

“Have you made any reservations?” Marinette asked. “Any down payments?” No answered. Just pale faces.

           Chloe just shook her head, “Did you at least get approval from the school board to clear the trip?”

“We need them to approve it?” Kim asked. “Why it’s our trip?”

“Safety and legal concerns,” Marinette said slowly. “It takes weeks to get approved. Permissions slips have to be signed and turned in. Chaperones found.”

“Miss Bustier’s our chaperone,” Mylene said brightly, and the teacher nodded eagerly.

           Marinette fought the urge to scoff. Bustier couldn’t chaperone a ping pong tournament. “Fine but with a class this size, you need at least two more. Maybe three.”

           Chloe crossed her arms, “How were you getting to New York? What were your plans? Did you book any tours? What were you going to do in New York?”

           No one said a word.

           Marinette smirked, “Good on you, I guess. You must have some killer fundraising ideas with only a month and a half until summer break.” She sighed. “I couldn’t do it myself. Way too much stress. The World Traveler’s club was killing ourselves since September to get everything done.”

“September,” Rose gasped. “Really.” She deflated. “We didn’t start till November, and the car wash was pretty bad.” There were nods.

“Yep,” Chloe said. “I think we did about fifteen or more fundraisers. Little ones and big ones. How many did you guys do?”

           Nino frowned, “Five.”

“We worked really hard, though!” Alix slammed her fist on the desk. “Nothing worked.”

           Marinette and Chloe shared another look.

“Shame,” Marinette said as they glided to their seats.

“Last year, the class did so well,” Chloe smirked. “Wonder what changed?”

“Nothing!” Alya shouted. “We did the same thing we do every year. Bake Sale, car wash, Raffle, Dance Party; everything!

           There were nods.

“It’s not fair!”

“We didn’t do anything wrong.”

           There more shouts and complaints.

           Bustier calmed everyone down, “Now class, let’s not give up hope. Our trip last year was a success. And I know we can pull it off again. What did we do then that we aren’t doing now?”

           The class went silent as they thought up what they were doing wrong. Surprisingly, it was Juleka who answered, “Marinette did most of the organizing,” She whispered, loud enough for everyone to hear; one of the few brave things she did all year. “Her and Chloe come up with all the fundraiser ideas and they plan them out too. They always did; every year.”

“This year they didn’t,” Rose frowned.

           And just like that, it was like that, it was like a balloon burst inside the students.

“They always plan the best fundraisers,” Kim frowned. “And we always met our goals.”

           Lila glared. She didn’t think that when she convinced the class to kick the girls off the trip that they’d be getting rid of anyone who did any real work. However, the glare quickly turned into a frown with a few crocodile tears, “Then we didn’t they help us? We needed them obviously.”

           Before any of the other students could direct their anger to the girls at their betrayal, Nino shrugged, “Because we told them they couldn’t come with us, remember? So they didn’t help out. They told us they wouldn’t. Why should they? It wasn’t their trip.”

           Frustration and rage built inside Alya. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. The class should’ve been headed to a glamorous trip to New York, with Marinette and Chloe left to suffer alone in Paris wishing they had been invited. Where was justice?

“I bet you're happy!” Alya growled at her ex-friend. “Our trip is ruined thanks to you.”

           Marinette smirked, “No. I didn’t do anything. I was and am in no way involved with your class trip. Just like you wanted.”

“You could’ve helped us!” Alix yelled.

“Why?” Chloe asked.

           Silence.

“You made it clear we couldn’t go to New York with you,” Chloe said. “Why would we help you? It’s not like we’re friends with you.”

           Angry eyes and red faces filled the classroom. No one wanted to admit that they got themselves into trouble.

           Alya had to be held back in her chair by Nino, “You could’ve warned me how hard being class president was. Or what we needed to do to go on the trip. But you didn’t care about us. You don’t think about us at all.”

           Marinette leaned back in her seat, an easy smile on her face, with frost in her eyes, “Sweetie, I haven’t thought any of you for months.”

           Before anyone could say anything else. Bustier decided to try to take control again, “Marinette, Chloe; there must be something you can do. Maybe the class can tag along on your trip.”

           Hopeful expressions overtook the students' faces.

           Both girls looked at the teacher like she was stupid.

“Even if that was possible,” Chloe narrowed her eyes. “And it’s not. We had everything booked for months, reservations made. How will they pay for it? We only raised enough for the World Travelers’ Club.”

           It was Adrien who answered, “Can’t you do something?” He said with hopeful eyes. “Our friends are really looking forward to it.”

“No.” Marinette snapped. “They are not my friends. And even if they were, it would take another 40 grand to get everyone in class on the trip. There’s no time to get that type of cash. Even if there was, it would still be weeks to get School board approval. The World Travelers’ leave on the first. There’s nothing to do.”

“We’re not risking our trip for yours,” Chloe and Marinette chimed together, looking very much like the Ice Queens the students had called them behind their backs.

           That was that. Alya and the other students would shoot glares at the two girls, and make mean comments for the next month; mostly about them being selfish. The girls didn’t pay them any mind. Lila tried to join the World Travelers’ club at the last minute, only to be unanimously told to come back in September. Damocles, at the urgency of Lila and Alya, tried to intervene and stop the trip the ground, it wouldn’t be safe. Boy, was he surprised when the school board called him into a meet to speak about his future employment and the rampant bullying and oversight that had been going on in the school.

           Bustier’s class ended up going to Disney World Paris for the weekend, before the end of May. And posted tons of videos, most of which had comments about getting away from bullies and the drama of the class.

           The World Travelers’ Club left on schedule on June 1st. They would return for two months.

           The pictures they posted was the talk of the school. Which was saying something since the school wasn’t even in session. The first pictures were of the grand hotels they stayed at, the amazing strange American food they ate. Carne Asada fries, yum!

           In Los Angelus, the club toured Warner Brothers studios and ran into the cast of the new Star Trek movies. They attended the world premiere of the Joss Weadon Superhero movie. They got all the classic tourist pictures of Los Angeles. Though Marinette and Chloe, when they had explored by themselves, ended up running into the Rock and had a picture of themselves hanging from his biceps as he posed.

           Their next stop was Star City. They toured the local museum, toured Queen Industries, met Oliver Queen himself. Then they even got to meet the Green Arrow.

           Alya nearly broke her phone when she saw Aurore and the superhero.

           After that, the Club went to Central city where they visited Star Labs.  It was Aurore’s idea. It was the most meta-filled city in the world; known for the most outrageous heroes and rogues in the world.

           It didn’t take long for the club to run into the flash, in this case, he was fighting against Captain Cold, Heatwave, and the rest of the rogues.

           The fight wasn’t favoring either side. But the class watched eagerly from where they stood on the sidewalk.

           They had to duck quickly when Captain cold was blasted into the wall next to them.

           Leonard Snart was surprised when a young girl helped him up. He looked and saw a bunch of kids standing there, torn between watching him and watching the fight.

“Are you okay, Mr. Cold?” She asked, with a heavy French accent, her blue eyes big with worry.

“…Fine, kid,” He answered. “Shouldn’t you lot being running off.”

           The bluenette and the blond girl next to her shared a look.

“Can we get a picture?” The Bluenette asked.

           Leonard Snart paused, “…Sure.” There was, in fact, a first time for everything.

           The kids cheered. And each one started scrambled with their phones to get their picture. It wasn’t long before Heatwave showed up to see what was wrong, only to be pulled in by a push blond to take pictures as well.

           That was when the flash Showed up but Aurore quickly pulled him into an interview. Slowly but surely, the rogues and the team flash found themselves entertaining and signing autographs for a bunch of French kids; answering all their questions and telling stories.

           Later when Aurore and the rest posted their pictures, and the interview with the Flash and his rogues, Alya did break her phone. As far as she was concerned life was fair.

           In metropolis, They met Superman, Supergirl, Krypton (the former superboy), and the new Superboy. Superman had heard from the other league members of the French class touring different cities and how great they were.

           They toured the Daily Planet and Aurore got one on one time with Lois Lane. They got to see LexCorp and had a tour given by Lex Luthor himself. Lex had heard about the class from Queen and Wells, the CEOs of Star Labs and Queen industries, and decided one-up his competition in any way he could

           Then the kids' wen to Gotham. The pictures from that trip made half the kids in Bustiers’ class cry. The best pictures were of Marinette sitting in the Batmobile; Batman looking stern next to her. The ones of the club with Bruce Wayne and his kids were pretty epic too.

           Finally, their lasts destination was New York City. And the kids saw everything. They did the entire tourist thing; The statue of liberty, times Square, New York Times. Everything. However, the highlight was the tour of Stark Tower/Industries; led by Tony Stark, with Pepper to manage him.  Because Tony Stark didn’t get one-upped by Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne. Then the kids took a surprise trip to the Avengers compound.

           Marinette and Chloe decided walking into the training room only to see Captain America, Thor, and Bucky Barnes working out with their shirts off was the best part of the entire trip.

           Pictures and videos were taken of each member of the club holding various Avenger weapons. Chloe refused to admit her hand trembled when she was given over Captain America’s shield.

           The funniest video was supposed to be each member of the World Travels’ club struggling to pick up Thor’s hammer. It was pretty funny. Until Marinette lift it like it weighed nothing. Mouths dropped. The Avengers were stunned. Who was this small bluenette worthy of Thor’s hammer?

Then Thor shouted that Marinette would come to Asgard with him.

           Then Tony had to tell Thor that he couldn’t kidnap kids.

           To which Thor said, “What about Peter? Where did he come from?”

“I’m his mentor,” Tony groaned.

           Thor nodded, “Then I shall be the girl’s mentor. The Captain shall train young Chloe. Natasha will have Kagami as they are suited for each other; mostly because they strike fear in hearts everyone. Pepper will get Aurore; as they were meant to rule. Hawkeye will get Claude. The Soldier of Winter will get young Luka. You shall have Peter. The rest will be divided among the rest of the avengers. There. All done.”

           A moment of silence, and then Tony yelled, “That’s not how this works.”

           It was all on video.

           It went viral in an hour.

           Marinette had to portal back to Paris to deal with several different Akumas several different times; most were just about jealousy.

           When the kids returned to Paris. They wasted no time relaying the stories of their adventures.

           When September came and school started. Marinette and Chloe once again walked into class together, with smiles on their faces, only to meet glum looks on the students' faces. They paid no mind as they headed back to their seats in the back.

           Before class could begin, Rose approached them, a hopeful smile on her face, “Marinette, Chloe; we were hoping you’d come with us on your next trip.” Her smile widened “And Marinette, maybe you’d like to be class president again.”

           None of the other students looked happy at the idea but all of them could admit that the World Travelers’ club had been amazing. And if they ever wanted another great trip, they had no choice but to deal with the Ice Queens.

           Marinette and Chloe shared a look and then shot the class cold smirks, “No!”

“We’ll be far too busy,” Chloe smiled, coolness in her tone. “We decided we can no longer want to go on any more class trips. With you.”

“The World Travelers’ club takes a lot of work,” Marinette added.

“Good Luck though,” The two girls chimed together. “You have plenty of time to fundraise though.”

“A little less than a year,” Chloe said. “Our club starts planning in about two weeks. We’ll start fundraising right after. We’re thinking about Japan. Luckily this trip won’t be as expensive as our last.”

“Good luck with your trip though,” Marinette leaned back in her seat. “Who knows? If your lucky, it’ll be as fun as your last one. We know you worked so hard. Earned over $5,000 right?”

“Beat that!” Chloe added.

Then both girls burst into laughter.

Marinette wiped her eyes, “Besides you don’t want us there on your trip.”

“Too much Drama, right?” Chloe offered.

           The bell rang. And the class’ resident ice queens sat in back with smiles on their faces and ice in their eyes.

[phynali]

so not to ruminate on things that vex me, but the past 2 or so months have been kinda shit, and i’m trucking along and there absolutely are high points and good things and joys that balance some of this out, but i need to vent out some of the negative emotions somewhere to get ‘em out. so i guess i’m doing that here because - 

we’re in lockdown#6 where i live (state of victoria) and it’s hard, this yo-yo of restrictions and swinging in and out of one lockdown after another. 

for those who understandably won’t know, what we call lockdown here means not just restaurant and commercial closures and mandatory working from home unless you’re in an industry where that’s impossible -- it also means no guests (0) inside you’re home unless you’re both living alone and single or else romantic partners, it means not leaving your home at all except for one of 4-5 necessary reasons, not being outside for more than 2hrs per day even to exercise, and not going more than 5km from your home unless required for work/medical/etc required reasons.

it’s intense. we spent (i think) 128 days in this degree of lockdown in 2020, never mind how many we spent in other forms of restrictions and working from home. and we’ve been back in it four (4) times in 2021 already. in-out-in-out-in-out - 

it’s taking a toll on the mental health of every person i know. we get weekly emails with wellbeing and resilience tips from my job -- not just “be productive or else” capitalism but heartfelt ones from wellbeing officers with copies of articles like this one on languishing from the NYT, acknowledging we’re all struggling and directing us to the plethora of wellbeing resources our workplace is trying to provide, not only to us but reminding us they offer it to our families too.

i’m one of the lucky ones. i’m really not trying to wallow here or to pretend otherwise. i appreciate that i can work from home, even though i can’t focus when i do and it this interacts with my adhd to fuck my productivity. even if i’m so behind and delayed it feels like i’ve lost 12-18 months worth of work and it will have long-term ramifications on my career -- even so, i still i have a job. i still get paid. and i even kept my job, a bit by the skin of my teeth but i did, when my sector downsized last year. yes, the way my employer went about lay offs left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth (my own included), but i made it through. 

and my sector, while affected, is by no means the worst of the collateral damage.

the yo-yo of lockdowns is taking a very very real toll on industries like hospitality, tourism, commerce. and the economy does have indirect effects on health and mental health as well. my friend, a waitress, was on her way to work the evening shift at a restaurant when she got the call about the latest lockdown. she had to turn around and go home because the announcement came just hours before the lockdown was imposed, and every place suddenly had to close by 8pm. bye bye evening shift. so much of the government support for these industries has dried up, has been inadequate. 

lockdowns save lives. i don’t begrudge my state for imposing one except that yes -- i’m resentful we’re here again with only six cases. i can be both accepting and grateful and also pissed and tired and more all at once. 

even more than the latest lockdown, i’m pissed about the yo-yo. that we went into lockdown in june, came out in july, went back in in july, came back out in july, are going back in now, in the first week of august. three lockdown/re-openings in 10 weeks, as if this rollercoaster doesn’t completely incapacitate our ability to plan or prepare for anything more than a week out, more than a day out -- in this case, more than a few hours out. 4pm the lockdown was announced, with an 8pm start time. as if that doesn’t have more insidious consequences on individuals and industries than a more clearly articulated and consistent approach. as if all the restaurants that got to open up this week didn’t purchase large food orders for this weekend that will spoil because they were given 4 hours notice to close their doors.

that’s the part i hate, right now more than the lockdowns themselves. consumer sentiment was at a high in april, optimism was everywhere. people felt good, and like we had a plan forward. now -- well, now my job is sending me emails about how normal and okay it is that i might be ‘languishing’ because aren’t we all?

and i absolutely do begrudge my federal government, and i’m angry with them, and this is part of why:

but i also accept, to some extent, that these decisions have all been made in difficult circumstances, and i’m not really about to pretend i could do any better. 

at the same time, australia’s vaccine rollout is among the slowest and lowest at least within OECD countries. i know that’s partly because we’ve managed the keep cases low and therefore we are prioritized less when it comes to who needs the vaccines most (and thus who is earlier in line to be able to purchase) among other geo-political reasons i won’t get into, but it still very much sucks. our timeline and ability to move forward and ability to stop having lockdowns requires a mostly-vaccinated population, and that’s not something we’ll have anytime soon.

and i am a visa-holder here and my family is back in canada and with our current border restrictions leaving to visit is honestly is not an option because i wouldn’t be able to return, to work. i’m managing that distance okay most of the time despite my homesickness and frustration but my partner’s parents are older and his mother’s health just isn’t amazing and it’s weighing on him a lot. 

a phd student i work with just had a parent die in another country while stuck here, had to drop everything to return, is devastated by not being by their parent’s side when it happened because it came on sudden, and now won’t be able to come back into australia after, will have to finish their thesis remotely from abroad. stories like that are becoming commonplace in certain circles, here. this student is not the first or only person i know who has been in that exact situation in the past year.

it’s enraging, and upsetting, and instills a sense of helplessness because -- there’s nothing that can really be done about it. there’s no good answer, but it’s scary to think of what could happen. i know it scares my husband. if his mother’s health suddenly dips -- does he drop everything and leave? how can he not? would i go with him or hold the fort here? what ramifications does that have either way?

right now, we’re in the first stages of getting permanent residency, my job is putting in the nomination, and this is one of those awesome high-points i mentioned. it’s a very much needed sense of security in my career and my future in this country. but while a PR application is pending and under review, you can’t leave the country, even in pre-covid times. it takes months to get the application fully nominated, accepted, then submitted, and months on months to process.

in january 2020 we had agreed that for xmas 2020 we’d return home to canada. obviously the world changed and we quickly determined that wouldn’t be the case. we pushed that plan back to july-aug 2021, then to october 2021, xmas 2021. my partner’s sister asked him last week if we started making plans, booking things for xmas, was calling to check that we’d had our second jabs. he had to explain the situation to her, that we aren’t even eligible for our first vaccine yet, that we aren’t holding out any real hope of visiting, not this year, not until mid-next.

anyway - i’m just. languishing, i guess, if that’s the word for it after all. i know it’s not the same as depression -- i’ve had episodes of that, been treated for it in different ways. this is and feels different, even if there are obvious similarities. whatever to call it, it sucks, and i hate it. and i hate the other lows and anxieties and crap i’ve been dealing with in the past few months as well that didn’t make it into this post about covid. crap with work, with friends, with goddamn car rentals of all stupid things. crap that’s making me anxious and crap that just needs processing. crap that is, ultimately, massively exacerbated because lockdowns turn us into little rats gnawing on the bars of our cages.

and i guess i just needed to talk about it somewhere, to organize my thoughts and free up some headspace (emotion space?) currently being used to hold these thoughts and feelings in place. i kind of hate posting personal crap like this and always get the urge to delete but i also have a hard time organising my thoughts if i don’t write them out with this intent to post. sort of want to go outside and scream at god, sort of want to phone up a friend and yell at him for an hour for being an exhausting ass, sort of want to be alone for a day to curl up under a blanket with a movie that’ll make me cry because raging at the universe is always so much easier when i’m alone and unobserved. but i guess since those aren’t especially kind or feasible i’ll post this instead.

anyway - if you read to the end of this for any reason, i’m not trying to be maudlin, and there’s really no need to respond. it’s just a feelings dump, sucking some of the poison out, not really much different than journalling but i’ve always been better at that online than on paper. 

[watchmegetobsessed]

Serendipity - Part V. (Harry Styles)

a/n: so this is it, this is the end of the story of Lis and Harry! if you are still reading this thank you for sticking around till the end and an even bigger thank you to those of you who took the time and energy to send me their thoughts about the story!! i hope you liked it, and if you’d like, pls come talk to me about the story, my askbox is wide open!!

pairing: Harry x OC (Annalise Lloyd)

word count: 13.9k

SERIES MASTERPOST  ⚫️ my masterlist  ⚫️  come and talk to me about Serendipity!  

Serendipity (n.) Finding something good without looking for it.

Lis decides not to change their plans and let Benji stay at her parents’ for the next week as well, giving her and Harry some more alone time that they surely use to the last bit. These two weeks are enough to make him think about a possible, preferably near future when they get to spend every day together like this, where he can come home to her already cooking something or just lounging on the couch, when they don’t have to pack overnight bags whenever they want to spend the night together.

He can only hope Lis is feeling the same way about them, because now he is determined to make it a reality.

The next few weeks go over their head faster than they could realize. Benji spends some time home before he leaves for a week of camping, something he has been so excited about, rambling about it every possible given time.

Though Harry would love to spend that week again with Lis, but it’s painfully interrupted with a trip to LA he just can’t put away. His new album is debuting in August and tour will kick off in October, things are starting to pile up and he can’t get everything done from London, no matter how badly he would want that.

He has been torn, with the tour slowly but surely coming up, because part of him can’t wait to get back to performing, but another part is breaking for how he won’t be able to see Lis or Benji whenever he wants to. He wishes they could just come with him, but he knows it’s not possible.

He tried his best to mess around with the dates so he can come back to London as much as possible and at the end he managed to give himself three to five days off every three weeks to fly home. They talked through it all, several times, bracing themselves already for the times that were about to come.

Harry is at rehearsals this one day when oddly, Lis shows up there, something she has never done before, that’s how Harry knows something is up. Calling for a quick break he leaves the room with her, worried what it could be.

“Hey, everything alright? You’re not picking Benji up today?” he asks, knowing well at this time she should already be at the school.

“Chloé offered to do it for me. Harry, sorry for coming here, I just… I couldn’t wait until tomorrow to talk to you about it.”

“What’s wrong? Talk to me,” he tells her and taking her hands he pulls her to the small sofa in the corner so they can sit and talk. She is clearly upset and it’s starting to trigger Harry as well.

“I, uhh—I don’t know how to start it so I’ll just get straight to the point. Austin showed up at my work today.”

Harry’s breath gets caught in his throat at the mention of the name. He just put the whole Austin situation behind him, the thought was stuck on his mind for way too long and now that he was finally moving on, the dude showed up. He needs everything in him to calmly nod and encourage her to continue.

“He-He just… walked in. I swear I didn’t know anything about it, I was so shocked a-and I didn’t know what to do—Harry I—“

“Lis, calm down, alright? I know you didn’t know about it. Just tell me what happened, because I don’t know how much longer I can sit here left in the dark.”

“Right, yeah, sorry,” she breathes out rubbing her face with one hand. “He said he wanted to talk and I was just about to leave for lunch, so he asked if he could join me. I didn’t want to go anywhere with him so we ended up just sitting at the back terrace. I was so panicked and scared and couldn’t even say a word for a while, because he looked so… different.” “Different as in how?”

“Like… looking back I can tell he was in a bad shape when we were still together and it turns out I was right, because he admitted to being a drug addict. But now he was like, this new person. He said he has been clean for two years now and he wanted to find me because his therapist suggested to reach out and try to make up for his past mistakes.”

While Harry’s hands are holding hers, his eyes now move to the floor ahead of him, trying to process all the new information that’s been thrown at him.

“When I finally recovered from the shock of seeing him my anger kind of took over and called him all these terrible things, shamed him for leaving his son and all that and he just… sat there. And at the end he said that I’m right and that he understands that I feel this way about him. He said that he’s been thinking about what he did a lot and he asked me if we could meet sometime when it’s not just my lunchtime, to talk.”

“Talk about what?” Harry asks with a frown.

“He… He said he wants to meet Benji,” Lis answers in a whisper. Harry’s eyes snap back to her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He was not ready for this and he can tell Lis feels the same way.

“What did you tell him?”

“I said that I need to think about it. He left me his number and I told him I would contact him when I have decided.”

“How did he take it? I mean, I assume he wanted you to say yes right away…”

“He seemed to understand my decision. He said he completely agrees if I don’t want to let him see Benji ever again. This was so not like him, I was afraid he would snap, like he used to when we were younger, but he didn’t. He seemed like he really went through hell since I last saw him and he is just happy to… still be alive.”

Harry falls silent, not entirely sure what to think about the appearance of Benji’s father all of a sudden, confessing to be an ex drug addict and kind of apologizing for his mistakes before telling Lis that he wants to meet Benji. It’s a little too much all at once and the more time that passes without him talking, the more he is worrying Lis.

“Harry, please say something,” she breathes out her plea.

“I, uhh—Sorry, I’m just a little… overwhelmed I guess.”

“Are you mad?” she asks in panic.

“Mad? At you? Why would I be?”

“I don’t know, sorry, it’s just been a… long and tiring day for me,” she breathes out, leaning back on the sofa, her eyes closing for a few seconds.

“It’s a lot, yes. So why don’t we talk about this when I’m done here? I can’t keep up the guys too long. I can come over to yours when I’m done, yea?”

“But you said you had some stuff to work on tonight.”

“I can push that back, not a problem. Just go, get Benji from Chloé’s, drink a tea at home and I’ll be there by seven, alright?”

Lis nods as the two of them stand up. Harry pulls her into his arms, kissing the top of her head as she hugs his waist tightly.

“Sorry to interrupt your rehearsal,” she mumbles against his chest.

“It’s alright. Don’t worry about it.”

She pushes herself up to her tippy toes and captures his lips in a sweet kiss, something she’s been aching to do all day, or at least since her encounter with Austin earlier.

“I love you,” she mumbles against his lips and those three little words instantly make him feel some kind of relief in the midst of this craziness.

“I love you too,” he smiles at her, pecking her lips gently before letting go of her and watching her walk out with one last, shy wave.

Hours later, Harry finally arrives to Annalise’s and as he lets himself in with the keys she has given him weeks ago, Benji launches in his way right away from the little pile of toys on the living room carpet.

“Harry! Harry!” The little boy smashes against his lower body, wrapping his arms around him, making his heart flutter. No matter how long or tiring his day was, being around him always makes it better.

“Hey, bud! How has school been?” he asks and leaning down he picks Benji up into his arm, holding him steadily against the side of his chest.

“Cool, we played basketball today! I don’t like it as much as football, but it’s pretty good.”

“Great,” he nods smiling. “Hi Chloé!” Harry calls out when he spots the woman sitting on the couch.

“Hi, how have you been?” she asks smiling warmly. The two of them have met earlier the summer, Chloé had been dying to meet him, especially after she started to see how much Lis has bloomed thanks to the man. They hit it off right away, but they didn’t expect anything less, since they are both so important in Annalise’s life and just want the best for her.

“Great, a little busy, but everything is alright,” he nods. “You?”

“Same, just working my ass off,” she huffs.

“Where’s Lis?”

“Shower. Told her to have a hot one, she was stressing way too much.”

“So she told you?”

“Yeah,” Chloé nods shortly, not wanting to talk about anything while Benji is present.

When Lis appears from upstairs she is wearing a hoodie and cotton shorts, her hair still wet, looking tired just like earlier, but looks a tad bit more relaxed thanks to the shower.

“Hey baby!” she smiles kissing him softly.

“Hey, feeling better?” he asks, rubbing her back gently.

“Kind of.”

“Alright, I’ll head out now. Call me whenever, alright?” Chloé tells, hugging her goodbye, doing the same with Harry as well.

“Thank you for today,” Lis tells her walking her to the door.

“Anytime. Good night, guys!” she calls out, Benji shouts her bye after her and then it’s just the three of them again.

Nothing is said about Austin until Benji is put to bed. When Lis closes his room’s door and walks into the living room, Harry is sitting there, the TV is off and he is staring ahead of him, deep in his thoughts.

“Hey,” she softly says, cuddling to his side on the couch, his arm instantly curling around her shoulders.

“Benji is knocked out?” he smiles softly and she nods. “Alright.”

There’s a short silence, neither of them knows how to address the situation, how to start the conversation that has to be brought up.

“So…” he quietly starts. “I assume you’ve been thinking about what Austin asked you.” “Haven’t really stopped thinking about it,” she sighs, pushing herself up so she can look into his eyes as they talk.

“And where did you end up?”

“I… don’t know, Harry,” she sighs in defeat. Though it’s a torturous situation, Harry knows he needs to be mature and reasonable, keep his jealousy far away, because it’s way more than just that.

“What are the things that make you want to say no to him?”

“If I let him meet Benji, I can’t have him do the same thing and disappear. Benji will remember it, unlike last time. I can’t risk him having such a major trauma.” Harry nods at her words.

“And do you think he’ll leave again?”

“Honestly?” she asks quietly and Harry nods again. “I feel like he was genuine. But that could mean nothing, I’m not naïve enough to think that I know him. Maybe I never did,” she adds in a whisper and Harry can feel his heart break.

He hasn’t been able to come to peace with everything Lis had to go through. In his book, she deserves the world yet she had to deal with living hell, raising Benji on her own because Austin didn’t feel like taking responsibility for his own child. If only Harry knew her then, he would have made sure to give her the world, because that’s what she deserves.

“What do you think about it?” she asks, snapping him out of his thoughts about her.

“About what?”

“Should I let him meet Benji?”

“I’m not sure I have a saying in it,” he truthfully answers, but Lis tilts her head to the side, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“Of course you have, Harry. You are my partner and a very strong influence in Benji’s life. I value your opinion and I want to make this decision with you.”

Harry can’t push the smile back, her words mean the world to him, to know that she trusts him completely and entirely, that’s all he ever wanted.

Though jealousy is burning inside him to tell her he wouldn’t let Austin have even just a glance at Benji or her again, he knows it wouldn’t be his honest opinion. He knows how important it is for a little boy to have his father around even if he has missed out on the first years of his life and Harry only wants the best for Benji.

“I think that… you should give him a chance.”

“Really?”

“Yes. He deserves a second chance and you said he is willing to cooperate and do anything you ask him to. You can have a control over the situation, that’s the best case scenario.”

“I feel like, and tell me if it sounds stupid, but I think maybe I could ask Benji himself, if he even wants to meet him. I know he is just a kid, but I feel like he can have a great understanding of the situation to have an opinion of his own.”

“It’s not stupid, Lis. I think Benji is very smart and he’ll handle it just fine.”

“Maybe we can have a chat with him in the morning.”

“You want me to be there?” he asks surprised.

“Of course. I told you, you’re my partner, in everything,” she smiles before leaning closer to kiss him sweetly.

That night, when Lis is already fast asleep Harry is still awake, staring at the ceiling, mind racing about everything he learned today. He has never thought he would ever have to deal with Austin and deep down he wishes he just stayed wherever he has been all this time, but on the other hand, he doesn’t want to take away the chance from Benji to know his father. It feels like life has sent him a reminder that no matter how much he cares about that little boy and Annalise, he is not the father of Benji and he is not the one that connects Lis and her son on such a sacred level.

He barely hears the creaking of Benji’s door and his little feet tapping on the floor. When he pushes Annalise’s bedroom door open Harry sits straight up, alerted that something must be wrong.

“Harry?” he whispers shakily.

“Hey, Buddy. What’s wrong?”

“I had a bad dream. Can I sleep here with you and Mum?” he asks and Harry doesn’t hesitate to scoot more to the edge, making space for him in the middle while Lis is still asleep on the other side.

“Come ‘ere.”

Benji climbs up the bed and Harry pulls the cover over him as he settles in the middle. He only stays still for a moment before he moves closer to Harry, cuddling to his side which catches him by surprise at first. He doesn’t understand why he chose him when Lis is lying right there, but it’s a moment he surely will cherish for a long time, because he truly feels like Benji has let him in.

Wrapping his arm around the boy he lets his head sink back into the pillow, gently rubbing Benji’s back until they both finally fall asleep.

When Lis wakes up a little later she is surprised to see that it’s now not just the two of them in bed, but when she realizes that Benji is all cuddled up to Harry’s side, her heart flutter in her chest, feeling her eyes watering as she watches the two of them sleep so peacefully.

As if Harry could sense her gaze on him, his eyes slowly flutter open and he glances at her with a sleepy gaze, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

“You alright?” he whispers, his eyes falling closed again.

“Yeah. I just…” Exhaling softly, she leans over and kisses his slightly puckered lips gently before pressing one to Benji’s forehead as well. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” he mumbles back before he slowly drifts back to sleep. Lis gives herself a few more minutes just admiring the two sleeping figures next to her before she lets her eyes close as well and fall back asleep.

A week after Austin’s first real appearance Lis meets up with him alone while Benji stays with Harry. Though they talked to him in the morning, explaining to him that his dad is in town and would like to meet him and Benji seemed fine with the idea, Lis wanted to sit down with Austin and talk in more details before letting Austin see his son.

Harry takes the boy to his rehearsal and Benji manages to charm everyone just as usual. The band adores having him as their personal audience, especially because he makes sure to clap and scream joyfully following every song they play. He makes the best of friends with Mitch, finding the quiet man the most entertaining with his guitar and he even asks the man to teach him a few chords which he gladly does.

After rehearsal Harry takes him out for icecream before they head back to Annalise’s and though Harry has been enjoying his alone time with Benji, he can’t help but anxiously check his phone every five minutes, looking for any sign from Lis, but none of his notifications are from her, unfortunately.

“Harry?” Benji speaks up when they arrive home and Harry keys them into the house. Benji sits down to the floor to get rid of his sneakers but struggles with the straps of it so Harry squats down to help him.

“Yes?”

“Do you wear ties?” he asks, his question coming from the blue.

“Sometimes. Why do you ask?”

“Because my teacher today said that we would have to wear one on our graduation in year eight. But I don’t think I want to.”

“Why not?”

“Because it looks tight,” he simply says, making Harry smile as he helps him up from the floor.

“You can make it as tight as you want, don’t worry about it,” he tells him and Benji nods smiling, satisfied with the answer he got.

“Will you come to my graduation?” he then asks and Harry comes to a halt.

“In grade eight?” he questions and Benji nods. “Do you want me to be there?”

“Of course,” he nods confidently, his answer warming Harry’s chest right away.

“Then I’ll be there,” Harry tells him and it’s a promise he hopes to keep along the way.

Harry makes him a sandwich and they move up to Benji’s room to play with his dinosaurs, getting really into the game. Benji loves playing with Harry, because he always gets so into character, roaring and making weird noises, the little boy finds it so entertaining and fun, he often begs him to do impressions of different animals.

Harry doesn’t even hear the front door open and close when Lis finally arrives. After kicking her shoes off she walks up the stairs, following the noises and animalistic grunts that could only come from her boyfriend. Stopping at the door she watches them play before making her presence noticed.

“Your T-Rex impression is getting better, H,” she tells him as she walks into the room and leaning down presses a kiss to Harry’s lips, then to Benji’s head.

“I’ve been practicing a lot, thank you very much,” he smirks. “Benji, do you mind if I go talk to your mum a little? I promise we’ll play some more after.”

“Sure, it’s fine,” he nods, busy with pretending he is invading a city with his action figure.

Harry gets up from the floor and he and Lis move down to the kitchen to have some privacy and not bother Benji with what they are about to discuss.

“So, how did it go?” Harry asks as they both sit at the kitchen counter.

“Surprisingly good. He was very respectful and open. He went into a little more details about his addiction and going to rehab. I felt a little bad that I never really noticed that he was struggling with such things, but he said it was not my fault and he was damn good at hiding it for a long time. Then he asked about Benji, I showed him some pictures and told him that I’m okay with him meeting and slowly building up an environment that’s good for everyone, especially for Benji.”

“So he took it well?”

“Yes, he seemed very grateful and… just overall very open to whatever my decision was.”

“That’s great,” Harry nods, telling himself that it’s something to celebrate, but the bitterness of jealousy has started to bubble inside him once again. “So what’s the next step?”

“Well, I obviously want to be there when they meet first and I thought that we could have a picnic next weekend in the park. I already promised Benji we would go feed the ducks, so I thought I could combine the two things. What are you doing next Sunday?”

“I have a meeting in the morning, but I think I’m fine.”

“Then I would love to have you there as well,” she smiles softly.

“You sure? I don’t want to intrude.”

“You’re not,” she simply answers and leaning forward she kisses his lips chastely before hopping off the stool. And with that, it was settled.

Benji would meet his dad in a week.

Harry hates that he imagined a low-life, garbage looking weird guy when he pictured Austin. He is such a judgmental mess, but this was his way of calming his conscience through the days leading up to Sunday. But now that the man is standing just down the little walkway in the park, watching them get closer, the picture he imagined is getting thrown into the trash, because Austin looks… normal.

He is tall, around Harry’s height, dirty blonde hair that looks a little outgrown, but it’s not critical just yet. Now that he is seeing the man, he can actually see some traits Benji has gotten from him, his forehead, the curve of his upper lip and the shape of his face is undeniably Austin’s. Harry has never had problem with seeing exes of his girlfriends, he was confident enough to put any image aside, but right now, as he is staring at the man who fathers the child he adores so much, he can’t push down the thoughts of Lis and Austin together while Benji is holding one of his hands, his other clutching onto his mother’s.

Austin smiles wide, waving in their way as he takes a few steps towards them.

“Hi! I was worried I was at the wrong pond,” he chuckles softly, clearly nervous about this meeting, but that makes the four of them. Everyone is fighting a different fight right now.

“Sorry, Benji spilled tea on himself so he had to take a quick bath,” Lis apologizes while the boy in talk just stands there, staring up at Austin curiously. Just like the first time he met Harry, he doesn’t seem startled by a stranger, more like inquisitive.

“S’ alright,” he shrugs before his eyes move from Benji to Harry and he sticks out a hand for him. “Nice to meet you, Lis told me a lot about you. I’m Austin.”

“M’Harry, nice to meet you too,” he nods strictly, shaking his hand with the one that’s not holding Benji’s.

Austin then squats down to get to Benji’s level, a proud, touched smile tugging on his lips as he is inspecting the boy in front of him.

“Benji, hi. I’ve heard so much about you too. I’m so happy to see you!” he breathes out as the boy stares back at him, hands still clinging onto his mother’s and Harry’s.

“You’re my daddy?” he simply asks, the gears in his head turning as he is processing the situation.

“I-I am. But you don’t have to call me that, if you don’t want to.”

“Then what should I call you?”

“My name is Austin. You can call me that.” “Okay,” he nods before turning to his mother. “Mummy, are we feeding the ducks now or what?”

Lis chuckles at how forward Benji is and that the ducks seem to interest him more than his father.

“Sure, let’s go.”

Harry is like a hawk, watching every move of Austin through their time together. He is ready to jump into action if he sees the smallest warning sign, but none is showing. Austin is treating Benji with the best of intentions, simply enjoying his time with his son, making sure this meeting doesn’t take an upsetting turn.

Sitting on a bench with Lis, the two of them are watching as Benji is throwing another handful of cut grapes they prepared together this morning, the ducks launching at them excitedly, Benji laughs when two get into a fight for a piece. Austin is squatting next to him, holding the Tupperware as Benji keeps grabbing the grapes. He is having a blast and though Harry is not sure if he entirely understands what this meeting means, he knows that Benji is enjoying his first time seeing his daddy and that’s all that matters.

“Hey,” Lis grabs his attention, her hand squeezing his knee gently. “You alright?”

Harry turns to face her, forcing a smile to his lips as he nods.

“Of course.”

Lis knows him better than to believe his act. Leaning closer she kisses him lovingly to completely grab his attention from the man standing at the pond.

“You know, whatever happens with Austin, Benji will always love you in a special way and no one can take that away from you.”

“You think so? That he loves me?” Harry asks in a whisper. He hasn’t spoken his thoughts about being accepted by him yet, especially not to Lis, but now he just can’t keep his feelings bottled up.

“Of course,” Lis nods confidently. “I know it seems like he is a very outgoing kid, but he doesn’t trust anyone that easily, he is just good at being friendly. But it’s not just that with you anymore. I know that he thinks of you as one of his best friends and that’s a huge thing.”

“He is my best friend too,” Harry smiles, his eyes darting over to the boy who is now doing a little victory dance after hitting a swimming branch in the pond with one of the grapes. He can’t imagine his days anymore without at least thinking about him. Harry has always been great with kids, but this is his first time spending so much time with one and sometimes he is catching himself thinking about Benji as his own. He would do anything for the boy and to think that there was a time when Lis didn’t even want him to know about Benji is now just ridiculous.

“I know this is a weird situation for all of us, you included, but I want you to know that I’m so thankful for everything you’ve done. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you.”

“You are taking away credit from yourself,” he smiles at her softly. “You’ve been doing great without me before we met.”

“I was making things work,” she corrects him. “But now… I’m happy too.”

Harry breathes out, savoring this moment and imprinting it into his memory, because he surely wants to remember it forever. Leaning closer he kisses her slowly, making sure he doesn’t get carried away too much because they are out in the public and people have been staring at them, but for a few moments, it’s just the two of them.

At the end of the day Lis agrees that it’s been a nice start and they settle with another time when Austin would see Benji. The boy clearly enjoyed his time with his dad and it’s a promising sign for Lis that she has made the right decision. Austin is clearly thankful for the time he has gotten with his son and he can’t wait to see him again and Harry can only hope his excitement and enthusiasm won’t disappear anytime soon.

September flies by filled with times for Benji spent with Austin. The man becomes a regular person in his life and as the weeks go by, Lis starts to trust him more and more with the boy. He starts to actually act like a father and treats Benji right, finally giving him the chance to feel like all his peers that have both their parents.

While things start to settle in their life, something is clouding over the calmness. Harry is set to leave for tour on the first weekend of October and he has had quite a few trips this month as well, forcing himself to go back to his old ways in life. He had to realize he has gotten way too used to being in London and not having to leave for more than just two days and now it’s making his transition back to his touring schedule even harder. It feels like he is about to tear into at least two parts as he is trying his best to do everything he needs to in his career but also stay present for Lis and Benji. Some days are easier, when he has the chance to mess around with his appointments, appearances and interviews, but some are making him want to scream from the top of his lungs when he is still on the road at midnight and can’t make it back to Annalise’s because he doesn’t want to wake her up arriving so late.

She is taking it easier than him. Or at least tries. After having Harry as her rock for so long, she knows it’s her time to shower him with understanding, patience and all her love, making sure he knows that she’ll stick around no matter what.

Two days before he is set to fly out to the States, Chloé takes up on Benji duty to give the pair some alone time before Harry heads out. They spend most of it cocooned in his place, eagerly making up for the time they’ll be forced to spend apart. It’s hard on the both of them, but they also know it’s inevitable and Lis knows Harry moved everything in his power to make his tour as airy as possible so he can come home to her. Though she would love it if he just stayed, she doesn’t want to sound ungrateful and ridiculous, thinking Harry could drop his career for her.

She wouldn’t want that, guilt would eat her up alive if Harry quit what he loves doing the most, it’s just that she wishes a day had more than just 24 hours sometimes.

They try their best to make their parting as short as possible, hoping to make it feel less painful, but they end up sitting in her car for thirty minutes before Harry brings himself to get out and grab his suitcase that hasn’t been shipped out to LA yet. Lis hops out and meets him at the back of the car, throwing her arms around his neck one last time, kissing him with everything in her.

“Think of me a lot,” she whispers against his lips and he inhales shakily, eyebrows furrowed as he is forcing himself to let go of her.

“My thoughts of you never end, Love,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to hers one last time before finally letting his arms fall from around her waist.

As the plane takes off and Harry stares down at the view of London underneath him, he can feel part of him staying behind, in the hands of one particular and special woman.

Show after show, city after city, the days start to melt together for Harry, losing his sense of whereabouts. Waking up in a different hotel room every third or fourth day as he travels through the States, it’s easy to lose track of where he was, where he is and where he’ll be the next day.

Touring has always been a challenging thing for him, even after being in the industry for over a decade now. The part where he shares his music, his art with his precious fans, where he gets to see their face and sing with them, for them, that’s what he wouldn’t trade for any other job. But being on the road for such a long time brings him the most painful homesickness that’s not easy to deal with. There’re not many ways either other than going home.

The way Harry made sure to fly back home every now and then only worked for a while. Two days every three weeks is nothing compared to what they had all summer, especially when they were living together. Every time he flew back to London and then was forced to return to the States, saying goodbye was getting harder and harder. He hated seeing the pain in Annalise’s eyes every time he was leaving, and telling Benji that he wouldn’t be here next week was also torture.

Austin has slowly become part of Benji’s everyday life. He made sure to see him at least once a week, doing all kinds of activities, strictly with Lis for now. Though Benji still calls him by his first name, he is settling into the sense of having a father in his life now.

The situation was bittersweet for Harry. He was over the moon that Benji now finally had the chance to connect with both his parents, but however stupid it sounds, he was jealous. After becoming serious with Lis he started imagining himself be this father-like figure for the boy, teaching him everything he learned from his dad and step-dad. Harry had such a special bond with Robin growing up, he made it his priority to be that to Benji what Robin was to him: someone to rely on, to trust and count on no matter what.

But ever since Austin’s appearance, his feelings have been all over the place, thoughts racing every time he had some quiet moments to himself to think. Lis always told him about when they met, made sure Harry knew about everything so it wouldn’t create a mishap that she kept something to herself, however it still had a major disadvantage.

Harry slowly started to feel like he was the outsider in Lis and Benji’s life, like he was the one that didn’t really belong there while he thought the same about Austin at the beginning. The pictures and videos Lis has sent him when he was away, the times she raved about whatever activity they did that day, they all made him drift farther from the security he felt when he was back in London.

The cherry on the top is Benji’s seventh birthday at the beginning of December.

Harry made sure to have enough days off to fly home to the small birthday party Lis was having for him. She invited his friends from school and her parents were coming down to London as well to celebrate. And of course, Austin was invited as well.

But as always, things didn’t go as planned. Harry was stuck in traffic on his way to the airport so his jet left an hour later than it was planned, then they had to make an emergency landing just two hours after taking off, they had to have the whole plane checked, it turns out nothing was wrong, just a generator got a little too heated. So by the time he was officially on his way, he was almost four hours later than planned.

If things went right he would have arrived by three at Annalise’s, but this whole mishap set him back a lot more than he could deal with calmly. As soon as he touches down in London he takes his phone out of airplane mode and calls Lis right away.

“Harry! Everything alright?” she asks, the noise behind her quite loud as the party must still be going.

“Yeah, I’m so fucking sorry but I just touched down. I’m going straight to yours. Lis I’m so sorry I’m late,” he breathes out in a rush as he is marching through the terminal to the car that’s already waiting for him.

“Harry, slow down, it’s okay! You arrived safely, that’s all that matters.”

“No, I wanted to be there in time and now the whole thing will be over basically by the time I get there!” he jabbers in panic, feeling so horrible for something that was completely out of his control.

“It’s not your fault, Harry. Just get here safely, that’s all I want, alright?”

“Okay,” he breaths out sharply. “I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you,” she chimes into the phone.

“Love you too,” he says before ending the call.

It feels like the car can’t move fast enough, Harry is anxiously sitting in the back of it, watching London pass by him, dying to finally get to Annalise’s neighborhood. It’s already past seven when he finally arrives, grabbing his duffel bag from the back of the car, he sprints up the stairs and lets himself in, not bothering to ring the bell.

Music is heard from inside and as he walks into the house it just gets louder. The first thing he sees is a bunch of kids running around in the living room, playing some kind of game, a few parents chatting here and there, the remains of a cake sitting on the kitchen counter with some more snacks and drinks.

“Harry!” he hears Benji call out, the boy running towards him in a onesie that looks like a dinosaur, it even has a tail on his behind.

“Birthday boy! Hi!” he breathes out in relief as he finally wraps him in a bear hug, lifting him up from the ground. “Sorry I’m so late, did you save some cake for me?” he chuckles putting back the boy to his feet.

“Mum did, it’s in the fridge!” he smiles widely.

“Your mum is an angel,” he smiles back, just as Lis appears, holding out her arms for Harry.

“Am I now?” she chuckles before wrapping her arms around his torso, hugging him tight. “Hi,” she smiles sweetly at him before he leans down and kisses her.

“Hi. Sorry for the delay,” he breathes his apology out again, but Lis just shakes her head.

“It’s alright, I know it wasn’t your fault.”

“Did you bring me a gift?” Benji asks in excitement, jumping up and down in front of Harry, who leaves an arm around Annalise’s waist, smiling down at the birthday boy.

“Well of course I did,” he chuckles.

Benji can’t contain his excitement as Harry quickly makes his rounds of greetings to everyone, ignoring the wide-eyed looks he is getting from some of the mums. It hasn’t been a secret that Lis and him are dating, but it’s always shocking to see them in the flesh and some of the women among the guests are a little starstruck to see Harry in such an intimate and domestic setting, celebrating his girlfriend’s son’s birthday. Lis’ parents make him promise to get back to them for a chat after he gives Benji his gift and he gladly gives them his word.

Moving to the living room all the kids gather around Harry and Benji who sit on the carpet as Harry pulls out his gift from the duffel bag he brought. It was once neatly wrapped, but the paper is now a little crumbled, signs of the long way here showing on it.

“Happy birthday, Benji,” Harry smiles handing him the gift and he is about to jump right into tearing the wrapping off, but Lis stops him.

“Ah, what do we say?” she warns the boy who immediately stops and looks at Harry.

“Thank you, Harry.” “You’re welcome,” he chuckles and Benji finally gets back to the unwrapping.

“Wow!” Benji gasps as he frees the box from the paper, all the other kids chattering in excitement as they see what the present is. “Mum! Look! It’s gonna be a space shuttle!” he exclaims holding up the Lego box. Harry was a little lost about what to buy, seeing that Benji now owns every kind of dinosaur toys to exist, so he went for his second obsession: space. He ordered the kit even before he left for tour to make sure it arrives in time.

“Sounds cool!” Lis chuckles.

The kids get right down to business to build the space shuttle, so Harry frees himself from them for a while.

Unfortunately, the party doesn’t last too long. After eight, the guests start leaving since all the kids have a bedtime and twenty minutes later it’s just Annalise’s parents, Chloé, Austin and Harry left in the house. Suzan and George are in the living room, enjoying their time with their grandson, Harry and Chloé are cleaning up all the toys that ended up downstairs from Benji’s room while Lis and Austin are on dish washing duty.

“This kid has way too many toys,” Chloé grumbles under her breath when they have already made their second round up to his room. She sits on the ground, putting everything away to their place as Harry chuckles softly.

“I’ll go get the rest,” he tells her before making his way downstairs again.

Lis’ laughter hits his ears, immediately making him smile, but as he turns the corner he freezes, eyes glued to the two adults at the kitchen sink.

Austin and Lis are standing shoulder to shoulder, Lis washing the dishes while Austin is drying them in a cloth. He keeps nagging her with his shoulder, making her laugh as she whines at him to stop, pushing back at him gently.

“What? I’m not doing anything!” Austin tells her with an innocent look. They don’t notice Harry’s presence and for a minute, he feels like he is not even there physically.

Benji runs up to them, showing part of the shuttle he has built, proud of the work he did and the two of them look down at it in awe.

“Good job, Benji!” Austin tells him with a proud smile, ruffling his hair playfully. “It’s gonna look awesome.”

“Right? This is gonna be the shuttle that will save some dinosaurs when the meteor hits!” he explains and Lis chuckles at his imagination.

“Sounds amazing, Sweetie.”

Benji runs back to the living room, eager to work more on the shuttle, but Harry’s attention is still on the pair in the kitchen.

“I’m convinced he got his patience from you, Lisie. I could never build that thing,” Austin tells her and Harry flinches at the nickname. Are they now this close? Using nicknames?

“I won’t argue with that,” she nods in agreement.

Harry’s stomach churns as he watches them. He knew they’ve been spending a lot of time together because of Benji, but this was just way too close to his liking. But it’s not that Harry thinks she would ever cheat on him. It’s more about the tainting thought that they look like a real family.

For an outsider, they are just a normal couple, parenting their son and seeing them so domestic and close got Harry thinking thoughts he definitely shouldn’t.

What if this is what Lis wants? What if he is keeping them from finally being a family? What if he is the only reason why Benji doesn’t have the picture perfect family?

The thoughts pains his chest and he forces himself to look away. He gathers the last toys in silence and brings them up to Benji’s room as he and Chloé finish up with everything.

Soon enough, everyone who is not spending the night at the house leaves. Lis takes Benji to the bathroom to give him his bath and Harry finds himself sitting at the kitchen island, blankly staring ahead of him, the picture of Lis and Austin burning into his mind.

He hears voices upstairs and he knows she is putting him to bed. Once it becomes silent again footsteps are heard from the stairs and a few moments later two arms curl around his waist from behind.

Lis kisses him between his shoulder blades as he glances over his shoulder.

“Hi,” she smiles, resting her chin on his shoulder from behind.

“Hey,” he breathes out and turning around in her arms, he leans his back against the edge of the island. “Bed time went okay?”

“Yeah. It’s been a long day, he got tired of all the excitement,” she chuckles.

“M’sorry I couldn’t be here earlier,” he apologizes again, but Lis shakes her head at him, just like she did before.

“It’s alright, Harry. Don’t work yourself up about it. You flew across the globe to be here, a little delay is nothing you should be worried about.”

Her words mean well, they are the truth, yet Harry’s tired and darkened mind twists them so easily.

It doesn’t matter because they had Austin here before he arrived, he tells himself, but doesn’t say out loud, keeping the thought to himself.

“You alright?” she asks, her fingers dancing over his jawline until they swipe across his bottom lip. “You’ve been so quiet.” “Just… tired,” he tells her with a small smile that doesn’t match his eyes.

“When do you have to leave?”

“Monday morning, but I promised my mum I’d go see her tomorrow.”

“Are you coming back after you meet Anne?”

“Do you want me to come back?” he asks before he could think, the question taking her by surprise.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“No reason,” he replies with a small head shake. “I’m really tired, can we go to bed?”

“Sure. You go, take a shower and I’ll put away the leftover snacks,” she tells him pecking his lips shortly before letting go of him.

That night, Harry lies awake in bed, Lis curled up against his side, sleeping soundly. He can’t escape his haunting thoughts about Austin, he keeps seeing that little scene in the kitchen, making up more and more that might have happened while he was away. It’s clearer than daylight that Austin is finally claiming his role as a father, but Harry never thought about what it could do to him and though Lis didn’t give him any reason to think this way, he just can’t help.

This feeling is weighing down on his chest heavier than anything, his thoughts are racing, flashing him pictures he shouldn’t be thinking about. Hours pass by and Harry spirals into unwanted depths. He forces himself to close his eyes and eventually, he falls to a shallow slumber, but his last thought breaks his heart with a snap of a finger: His fear of being a homewrecker, what he thought himself to be when he first met Lis now feels realer than ever.

Harry’s ears still ring a bit as he makes his way back to his dressing room, his high still lasting from his show that ended just minutes ago. He keeps thanking the nice words he is getting on his way, his usual smile plastered across his face, but it hasn’t been truly genuine in a while now.

There are just two more shows left before he is going on a break for the holidays, flying back to the UK for more than just a few days. The UK leg starts at the end of January, giving him about a month worth of break before he hits the road again and travels through Europe.

He should be over the Moon that he is finally going home again, but it’s bittersweet. Ever since Benji’s birthday he has gone downhill about his spiraling thoughts about being the reason why a family is not together. At nights, he finds himself tearing up, thinking about Austin and Lis rekindling their romance and finally become the family they were always supposed to be and the thought always leaves him heartbroken.

He hasn’t been able to get his head straight and he knows he should talk to her, be honest about his feelings, but he just can’t get himself to do that, the fear of getting an answer he has imagined already is crippling.

A knock is heard on his dressing room’s door and a moment later Jeff pokes his head inside.

“Hey, great show tonight,” he says giving him a thumbs up as he walks further inside.

“Thanks,” Harry nods as he gets rid of his suit jacket, hanging it up on the rack that holds his other tour outfits he has been switching between.

“Have you talked to Annalise about New York?”

Harry closes his eyes shaking his head no. Not long after Benji’s birthday, the idea of flying Lis and Benji out to New York for Harry’s last concert came up. It would be on the 22nd of December, the first Saturday of winter break so school wouldn’t be a problem and since Lis has the whole week of Christmas off from work, she could make it work as well. Both of Harry’s Madison Square Garden show is completely sold out and it’s been a nice thought to have them see him on his last show of the North American leg of the tour, though Harry hasn’t been able to bring himself to ask her about it, now running out of time.

“H, I need an answer for the flights and all. Please, talk to her today or tomorrow,” Jeff begs.

“I will. It just… slipped my mind. Sorry,” Harry lies and though Jeff can see right through him, he doesn’t push it, just nods and leaves him alone.

Harry is quick to make it back to the hotel. He takes the shower he missed at the venue and then rejects Sarah’s offer to have a drink with the band in her room, claiming that he is just going to head to bed. His hair is still wet as he puts on a pair of clean boxer briefs and a white shirt before making himself comfortable on his bed.

Holding his phone in his hand, he has Annalise’s contact open as he chews on his bottom lip, trying to gather all his forces to call her. She is probably already up, getting ready for her day and Harry can picture her sipping on her morning coffee as she is trying to figure out what to wear today. The scene lives vividly in his mind, because not so long ago he was lying in her bed, watching her shuffle around in just her underwear, her hair messily falling to her shoulders, the coffee sitting on the top of her dresser. He hasn’t forgotten the warm feeling the sight brought to him, how he felt a sense of home just by looking at her so early in the morning.

But it feels a million miles away now, almost too foreign to his liking as his thumb lingers over the call button before he finally taps on it. The line rings two times before she answers.

“Hey! How did the show go?” she asks right away, her voice bright as the morning Sun.

“It went alright,” he nods to himself, sinking further down on the bed until his head is resting on the pillow. “How are you? Everything good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just miss you,” she murmurs. “Benji misses you too, he asked if you’d be here on Christmas as well.”

“I miss you guys too,” he answers truthfully, because despite everything he’s been fighting, he can’t deny the love he has for the two of them.

“I wanted to talk about something with you.” “Yeah?” Harry breathes out, feeling his stomach churn.

“Yes. I was talking to Austin the other day and we were trying to figure out how Christmas would go. I told him that we’re going to my parents’ and your mum’s as well, so we won’t really have a lot of free time. So he asked if we could do something on the weekend before Christmas. He wants to make a trip to Bath, we would leave early and then come back late in the evening.”

As Lis explains the plans she has been making on the exact same date when Harry was planning to fly them over to New York, he finds himself holding his breath, tears stinging his eyes. Though it’s entirely his fault he hasn’t asked her earlier, but in a way he feels like he lost. Like she chose Austin over him and that’s what he’s been fearing all along.

“So now you’re making trips with Austin, huh?” he answers, his words sharper than he intended.

“Okay, I can hear you don’t like the idea,” she states, catching on that something is wrong, though she’s felt the change in Harry before, but she thought it’s just the busy schedule he has been on.

“Not to sound selfish, but I’m just not quite the fan of this trip while I would be on a different continent.”

“Harry, I asked you for a reason, I know it’s a complicated situation but I wanted to make sure it’s comfortable with you. If you don’t like the sound of it that’s fine, but at least you could have used a little nicer tone.”

“M’sorry for not being nice enough, but I’m just starting to lose patience, if I’m being honest.”

“Patience?” she asks. “About what? Me?”

“Make a guess, Lis. I’m across the world while you are planning trips with Austin.”

“You are making it sound like I’m going on a romantic getaway with him, but it’s a trip for him and Benji to spend time together,” she defends herself.

“It’s just that lately, everything has been about Austin,” he snaps, exhaling sharply, all his bottled up emotions slowly surfacing now.

“I—Well not everything, but I admit it’s been a big change, yes. And I’m sorry if it makes you feel bad, but this is not the way to talk about it, don’t you think?”

“Then how? Tell me how to talk about it, because I don’t have a fucking clue about what’s happening anymore, Lis!”

“Harry,” she breathes out, completely startled by his outburst. “Why do I feel like this is about something else?”

“Maybe because it is.”

“Then tell me! I can’t make things right if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“You know…” Harry sighs in defeat, emotionally drained at this very point. “I’ve been told that sometimes I give too much. And I have a feeling that this might be the case here now as well.”

“What… What is that supposed to mean?” Annalise breathes out, tears forming in her eyes as she leans against the kitchen counter, holding the phone to her ear with a shaky hand.

“I just—I don’t think I can go on like this anymore. Feeling this way,” Harry rasps, a single tear running down his face.

“Like what?” she begs, pushing down a sob. “Harry, please talk to me!”

“Like I’m the one holding you back,” he finally says.

“From what? I swear you’re not holding me back in anything, Harry.”

“Except from having the family you always wanted.”

Lis sobs at his words as the picture finally gets clear. Everything he has said now makes sense, though she is having a hard time to understand how Harry could ever feel this way.

“Harry, that’s not true. I have the family I always wanted and it includes you! I know it feels like an impossible situation, but I know that we just need some time to make things work. If you ever think that you are less in our lives just because you don’t share the same DNA as Benji, I want you to know that it’s not true. You’ve become so important for him and especially for me, I don’t want you to doubt your role in our life.”

They are both crying, the weight of the words that’ve been just said crashing down on them. Harry closes his eyes and let’s his sobs out, not able to silence himself any longer. His chest aches and so does Annalise’s.

He wants to believe her. He really does. But it’s so hard to change the reality he’s been building up in just a moment, the distance between them surely not helping the case either. Lis wishes she was there with him, hold him and tell him over and over again how much she loves him. It doesn’t matter how things have changed with Austin, it never affected the way she is so hopelessly in love with Harry.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes out, still fighting his tears. “I just haven’t been able to stop thinking about that I’m a homewrecker. I saw you with Austin on Benji’s birthday and I felt like I wasn’t even there, like I didn’t matter.”

“Oh Harry… I knew something was wrong, but I figured you’d tell me!” she sighs rubbing her face, wiping her tears away. “Of course you mattered! Benji was so happy you were there! He was asking all day when you’d arrive and when I put him to bed he asked if I think you’ll want to rebuild the shuttle with him once it’s done.”

Harry whimpers at her words, his chest tightening even more. His consciousness is telling him to pack a bag and leave right away, fly back to London so he can hold Lis in his arms as soon as possible.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” he breathes out rubbing his eyes.

“You are family, Harry. To me and to Benji as well. Nothing can change that, not even Austin. You’ve already given so much to my son, I will never be able to thank you for being in his life.”

“Fuck, I’m about to sob like a baby,” he jokes making her laugh. “Lis, I’m sorry, I’ve been an idiot.”

“You have not. Just next time, please talk to me, okay?”

“Okay,” he whispers nodding to himself.

“I love you, Harry. Please don’t ever doubt or forget that.”

“I won’t,” he promises, this time shaking his head to strengthen his words.

“You love me too?” she murmurs softly.

“Of course. I love you so much, Lis.” “Good. Now I have to go and wake Benji up. I can’t wait to see you again soon.”

“Me neither.”

In the middle of the emotional tsunami that washed over Harry, he completely forgot about asking Lis about New York and later he talked himself down to mention it. He didn’t want to ruin the trip they had planned.

So on his last show, filling up MSG for the second night, he is standing on his own behind the stage, waiting to come out. But as soon as the show kicks off, the backstage is filled with a special buzz.

Even though Harry put his plans aside about flying Lis and Benji out to New York, Jeff didn’t. When Harry didn’t give an answer about his decision he was about to take it as a no to the plans, but luckily, he decided to reach out and emailed Lis with the details of everything they had in plans. To say the least, Lis was shocked that Harry didn’t mention it to her, but she could tell it had a lot to do with that call not long ago.

She knew how much it means to Harry and she didn’t think twice before asking Austin to have their little trip after Christmas, freeing up the weekend to go and visit Harry. They fixed up everything in secret, letting Harry believe he’ll only see them when he returns to the UK on the 23rd.

Jeff helped her manage everything and they arrived to the city just an hour before the start of the show. A car picked them up and drove them to the venue and they waited in it until Harry finally stepped on stage so the air was clear.

Jeff runs down the hallways so fast, he almost knocks two people over on his way. Lis spots him before he reaches the car and she gets out to greet the man.

“Hey, he just started. Come on, you can come inside,” Jeff tells her. She helps Benji out of the car and the three of them head inside, ready to surprise Harry.

Through the whole tour, Harry liked to spice up the track list a little, randomly performing covers of songs he has been listening to lately. Tonight, he is gifting the fans with his version of Want You Back by HAIM. He practiced it with the band yesterday and every time they played it, Harry kept ending up on the left side of the stage, dancing and fooling around as usual and this is what Jeff is counting on tonight.

Harry takes a breather after his last song, the crowd screaming and clapping as he takes a few gulps of his water before walking back to the front of the stage.

“This is my last show before my little break,” he says into the microphone. “I’ve been performing different covers through this tour and tonight won’t be different either.”

The crowd goes crazy, screaming the title of the songs they want to hear the most.

“Tonight’s song is by three incredible artists and they go under the name of HAIM,” he explains, the screaming increasing once again.

When he doesn’t know is that the two people he has been missing the most are standing behind the stage, clapping along with the audience. Benji turns to his mother in excitement when he gets a glimpse of the mass of people outside in the arena. He has been over the Moon since Lis told him they would travel all the way to North-America to surprise and see Harry before he comes home.

“The song is called Want You Back and I hope you’ll like it,” he gushes into the microphone as he moves away from it to grab one of his acoustic guitars and moving back to the microphone he starts the song.

“Some things are long forgotten, some things were never said…” His voice fills the arena and Lis almost doesn’t notice Jeff’s touch on her arm. “We were on one endless road, but I had a wandering heart.”

“Let’s get you out there so he can see you!” he tells her over the music and nodding she takes Benji’s hand as they follow the man out of the backstage.

There’s a small, free space between the actual edge of the stage and the pit area, mostly for security guards, but this time it’ll be the designated spot for the two of them. As they walk out, and some fans start recognizing her, Harry doesn’t realize what is happening, he is way too lost in the song.

Lis feels a little like under a microscope as the fans around her get all excited about her presence and she is just nicely saying hello back to them before turning her attention at the man singing on the stage. Benji stands in front of her and she has her hands on his shoulders as he is jamming to the song even though he has never even heard it before.

“I said we were opposite lovers, said it from the beginning you kept trying to prove me wrong. Said you’d always see it through and I know that I ran you down, so you ran away with your heart…”

Harry is making his way to the left wing, just as Jeff predicted, getting closer to the two surprise guests, but he hasn’t spotted them just yet. He has pushed the guitar to his back as now the band is taking the lead in the song, leaving him just with the singing and dancing.

Annalise’s breath is caught in her throat as Harry stops right in front of them, but his gaze falls over them, not focusing on what’s happening at the very front. Right until he sees how most of the fans in front of him are pointing at the front of the stage.

“But I just know that I want you back, just know that—“

His singing comes to a halt as his mouth hangs open when his eyes finally fall on the two familiar frames right at his feet.

Benji is jumping in excitement, waving at Harry as Lis smirks up at him, eyes filled with pride and love, all just for him.

Harry can’t believe his eyes as he stands frozen for a few minutes, the song long forgotten as his eyes lock with Lis’. His hand has fallen so the microphone is not close enough to catch as the question How?! falls from his mouth.

“Just sing!” she shouts laughing and he then snaps back to reality where he is supposed to be performing.

He quickly recovers from his shock and carries on with the song, but his eyes keep darting back to the two of them on the left side. When it finally ends he is quick to jog over to them and get down on the floor so his face is close enough to hear what she is saying.

“How did you get here?” he breathes out, ignoring the screaming that’s filling the whole arena.

“You really thought I would choose a trip to Bath over coming here to see you?” she chuckles, his heart skipping a beat. “We’ll talk later, now go and finish your show,” she tells him stepping back as Harry jumps back to his feet.

“Sorry for the little scene, I just didn’t know my girlfriend would be here tonight,” he talks into the microphone, shocking everyone with how easily he just called her his girlfriend, basically for the first time in a public setting. His eyes move back at Lis who is clearly blushing, holding onto Benji’s shoulders as she chuckles softly.

They sing and dance through the rest of the show and Harry can’t keep his eyes off them. He hasn’t seen them in the flesh since Benji’s birthday which was weeks ago and having them there at the show is just making his chest burst from joy, especially because they chose to fly across the ocean instead of their road trip to Bath with Austin. Though Harry has managed to come more to peace with the whole Austin situation, it’s still amazing to know he matters enough to be a priority.

He has never ached this bad for a concert to be over and normally he would feel bad for wanting to escape so fast, but not tonight. He basically jolts off the stage when the lights go down, rushing past everything and anyone, until his eyes fall on the two people he has been desperate to hug all night.

“Harry!” Benji calls out, sprinting towards him laughing carefreely as he throws himself at Harry who catches him just in time, picking the boy up to his arms.

“You really surprised me, I wasn’t expecting to see you!” Harry admits chuckling softly once Benji lets go of his neck and looks at him playfully giggling.

“Are you happy we are here?” he asks in all of his childish innocence.

“I am beyond happy,” he breathes out, ruffling his hair as Lis finally reaches them. Keeping Benji in his arms, Harry leans down and kisses her, curling his arm that’s not holding the excited boy around her waist as he pulls her closer. “You sneaky little thing,” he grins and Lis just slyly smirks back at him. “How did this happen?”

“Well, Jeff emailed me asking if you’ve talked to me about the trip here and I was shocked that you didn’t even mention you wanted this to happen.” She gently smacks his chest for keeping his plans hidden from her.

“You had plans already, didn’t want to mess it up.”

“We had a vague plan, nothing was decided yet. I would have rearranged it the moment you told me about New York, but you didn’t!”

“I know, I’m sorry,” he breathes out, putting Benji down who immediately runs up to Mitch who just walked off the stage. The guy greets him warmly, squatting down so Benji can have a look at his guitar.

“Anyway, Jeff helped me to arrange everything, I wanted to surprise you.”

“You succeeded,” he chuckles before kissing her again, this time with no Benji between them.

“I thought it would mean a lot to you, especially after… everything.” She gently strokes his face, a tad bit worry still laced through her voice as she hasn’t been able to decide where they have really been standing since that one phone call.

“It really means a lot. Thank you,” he breathes out, feeling complete after weeks of suffering on his own. “I love you,” he whispers, leaning closer so his lips are brushing against hers.

“I love you too,” she smiles before he kisses her.

December 31st

“Poppy, Sweetheart, can you not undress every ten minutes?” Harry sighs at the little girl standing in front of him, only in her diapers even though he dressed her just before he went to get his suit jacket. The toddler blinks up at him curiously, curling a lock of hair around her finger while she sucks on her thumb on her other hand.

Harry leans down and picks her up, walking out of the bedroom he sees the trail of clothes in the hallway that she left. He gathers all clothing items and walks downstairs.

“And please don’t let her stay naked when she undresses, she’ll never learn to stay in clothes if you just let her roam around naked,” Lis explains to Suzan in the kitchen who nods along to everything she is saying. Her eyes fall on Harry walking in with the girl in talk in his arms. “See? Naked, again!” Lis sighs. “Poppy, it’s a little early for you to practice undressing, don’t you think?” she asks the theoretical question from the girl who is holding onto Harry’s neck now, blinking up at Lis innocently. “Although, it’s kind of a father-daughter thing,” she adds with a playful smirk, glancing at Harry, who just shrugs, so full of himself.

“I’m not denying that,” he comments. “Suzan, can you dress her please?” Harry asks and the proud grandmother reaches for Poppy without hesitation.

“Of course. Come on, Darling,” she coos, taking the clothes from Harry as well.

“You ready to leave, Love?” Harry asks, kissing Annalise’s temple. She is wearing a long, black bodycon dress that has a sparkling seam at the top and bottom, spicing it up just a tad bit.

“Yeah, just let me grab my purse and phone. Would you please ask Benji to come downstairs a bit?” she asks as she disappears in her study.

Harry hums to himself as he walks through the spacious living room where George is sitting in one of the armchairs, watching the news while Suzan is trying her best to get Poppy dressed again, even though she’ll free herself from the clothes probably the moment she is left to roam around again.

Benji’s door is open at the end of the hallway, but Harry still knocks on it before stepping inside, seeing the boy lying on his stomach on his bed, reading the comic books he got for Christmas.

“Hey, we are leaving. Come down a little, please?”

“Sure,” Benji nods, leaving the comic book open on his bed as he gets up. Harry follows his movements and catches himself thinking how tall he is getting already. When he turned ten he started growing rapidly and Harry now thinks he’ll easily outgrow him by the time he finishes high school. Lis already can’t stop complaining that her twelve years old son is starting to catch up with her in height.

“At least Poppy is still small like a bean,” she grumbled the other day when it came up again, but Harry just chuckled.

“For now. But don’t forget that she has my genes and I’m not what you’d consider short.”

“Damn it, I’ll be the shortest in the house!” she sighed making Harry laugh.

Harry fixes his collar as he heads down with Benji, Lis walking out of her study right then.

“Oh great! Benji, please keep an eye on your sister while we are away, would you?”

“Isn’t that what Grandma and Grandpa are here for?” Benji jokes.

Suzan finishes up with Poppy and puts her down, the little girl immediately running up to her brother who gladly picks her up, struggling a little under the weight of the two year-old, but he manages to hold her.

“Yes, but if she starts running around, you are going to be the one to run after her and make sure she doesn’t break anything,” Lis tells him with a stern look. Poppy has developed quite a speed in the past months, enjoying sprinting around the house. Luckily, she has plenty of space, the new home they moved into before the little girl’s arrival came with enough room for any activity for the two kids.

“Don’t worry, Lisie, we’ll have an amazing time,” Suzan grins at her daughter who feels a little adamant about leaving her kids home, but it’s been so long since her and Harry had an evening to themselves. When Griff called Harry a few weeks ago, asking if the pair would be up for another New Year’s Eve party at the pub, it took Harry some convincing to make her say yes, but she eventually did. Suzan and George were happy to take up on the babysitting duty, giving the two of them some adult time.

Lis grabs her wool coat from the arm of the sofa and puts it on as she walks over to the kids.

“Be good, listen to grandma and grandpa, okay?” she tells Benji before kissing the top of his head and doing the same with Poppy. “You too, Missy!” she tells the girl who giggles at her words.

“Missy! Missy!” she repeats after her mother, her tiny hands grabbing onto Benji’s ears who whines a bit, but eventually lets his sister hold onto them.

Lis tells some last minute things to her parents and Harry uses this time to step closer to Benji.

“Don’t tell grandpa, but you are the man at the house until we come home, alright?” he tells him and Benji nods, taking the role seriously. “Be good, we’ll see you probably tomorrow. And you little girl…”

Harry takes Poppy from Benji’s arms, the little girl chuckling at her daddy happily, her hands immediately finding Harry’s hair.

“Don’t cause too much trouble, okay? Trouble is no good,” he tells her and she adorable shakes her head at his words.

“No twouble!” She calls out, throwing her hands into the air. Harry chuckles at her, kissing her soft cheeks a few times before putting her down. Poppy runs over to George who picks her up and sits her on his lap.

“Okay, let’s go,” Lis finally says. “Happy New Year guys! See you soon!” she calls out waving around on their way out. Harry says his goodbye as well, his hand finding Annalise’s as they walk out of the house.

He gives her hand a soft squeeze, loving the feeling of her wedding band on her finger under his touch. Harry knows Lis is a little worried about leaving the kids with her parents. She hasn’t spent more than just about two hours away from Poppy since she was born, but she also knows the kids are in great hands with Suzan and George. After all, they raised her as well.

The pub is packed by the time they arrive, but Griff immediately spots them as they walk through the door.

“Aye! S’ my favorite couple!” he calls out, hugging them both at the same time. “So glad ya could make it! No kids?” he jokes, though he knows they would have brought the kids to a pub to celebrate New Year’s Eve.

“No, they are home with the grandparents,” Harry smiles at his old pal.

“Alright, then let loose tonight!” Griff cheers.

The three of them chat for a little before the pub owner moves on to another group of guests, leaving Harry and Lis alone. He wraps an arm around her waist and pulls her close, his nose brushing against her ear as he speaks up.

“Last time we were here you ran off quite rudely. Are you gonna dump me tonight as well?” he teases, referring to the first time they met, exactly five years ago.

“Seeing that you’re my ride home, it’s not gonna happen this time,” she jokes and turning her head she kisses his lips shortly.

“Is that the only reason?” Harry gasps, pretending to be hurt over her answer.

“Mmm, I’m not sure it would look good on my records if I left my husband at a New Year’s Eve party.”

Harry can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips when she calls him her husband. They’ve been married for a little over three years now, yet it still amazes him that he was able to not just score, but keep the most amazing woman he has ever met.

Harry popped the big question on their second Christmas together, hiding the ring among the other gifts. Lis started crying and could barely even say yes properly, constantly sobbing, but it was definitely a happy cry. They tied the knot just three short months later, officially becoming Mr. and Mrs. Styles. It was a small and intimate wedding, but one of their photos later ended up in Vogue. At first Lis was adamant about showing such a private moment of their life with the public, but Harry managed to convince her otherwise.

“Let me show off my smoking hot wife to the world, Love!” he told him every time it came up until she finally gave up.

By the time their wedding came, they were both sure that they wanted to expand the family as soon as possible and ten short months later they were blessed with a baby girl they named Poppy. Harry has put a hold on his career when Lis reached her third trimester and he hasn’t fully gotten back to work since then, enjoying every bit of parenthood without shame. He has put out a new album last year, but it was announced beforehand that he would not go on a tour with it, not ready to leave his family just yet, but he promised to play the majority of the songs the next time he travels around the world.

The two of them mingle in the crowd, enjoying their time without any crying, food throwing or whining. It’s been so long since they last spent any time without Benji or Poppy, not that they don’t enjoy being with them, because they value every little moment, but sometimes it’s nice to set themselves free for just a night.

This sense of déjà vu lingers around the both of them all night, being at the pub is quite an emotional moment for them, seeing how far they have come from that one particular night five years ago.

When it’s nearing midnight, Harry fetches themselves two glasses of champagnes and they wait for the countdown at the exact same spot they stood back then. Harry notices her gaze on him and glances down at her with a half-smile.

“What? Is there something on m’ face?” he asks jokingly, making her laugh.

“No,” she shakes her head. “I’m just feeling a little emotional right now.”

“Emotional?” he furrows his eyebrows at her before his eyes widen. “Wait, are you… Are you pregnant?” he gasps, but Lis just chuckles at him.

“Harry, I’m literally holding a glass of champagne, you think I would be drinking if I was pregnant?”

“Right, it didn’t occur to me,” he nods.

“But… would you want that?” she shyly asks, the question has been bugging her for a while now.

“Would I want you to be pregnant?”

“Yeah.”

“Love, I would die to see you pregnant again and have another baby with you,” he answers simply, his straightforwardness surprising her a little.

“Why haven’t you brought it up then?”

“I wanted to, I was just not sure how you are feeling about it. If you’d want to even go through another pregnancy.”

“Well I do.”

“So why haven’t you brought it up earlier then?” he asks, returning the question for her.

“Because you’ve been on a break for over two years and another baby would set your career back even more,” she answers truthfully. She’s had enough time thinking about it and she had to realize she’s been feeling guilty for basically snatching Harry away from his fans, even if the majority was so understanding and nice when he announced his hiatus.

“Lis,” he breathes out turning to her with his full body. “I can make music at forty or fifty and even sixty. It’ll always be there for me. But we don’t have all the time to have another baby and I do want another, that I’m sure about.”

Annalise pouts her lips at him and for a moment he is afraid he said something wrong.

“What’s it now, Love?”

“I just love it when you talk about having babies, it makes me want to have a dozen more.”

Harry chuckles and presses his lips to hers shortly.

“I don’t know how that would sit with your lady parts, but I’m always up for some baby making,” he murmurs with a smug grin.

“Harry Styles, you never change,” she chuckles as the crowd around them starts the countdown.

“Do you want me to change?”

“No. Never,” she smiles softly, a faint blush playing on her cheeks. “So, another baby?”

“I’m in if you’re in,” he nods as the countdown reaches five, but the noises and voices are completely shut out for them.

“I’m in,” she smirks, biting into her bottom lip.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Everyone cheers and Harry leans down, capturing her lips in a more confident way than he did five years ago.

“Happy New Year, Love,” he murmurs against her lips.

“Happy New Year,” she answers with a bright smile as they clink their glasses and drink to the new year ahead of them.

-

TAGLIST

let me know if you’d like to be added or taken off!

@stylesfics-xx @dontworrysunflower @mariamuses @bookwormandtea @swtxel @ericadrumgoole1

[lupismaris]

sorry you’re feeling so crappy 😔 i hope you feel better soon!!

if you’re feeling up to it, maybe silverflinthamiltons on a lake or beach vacation?

SILVERFLINTHAM LAKESIDE HOLIDAY PART 1 with a surprise! and another segment to follow because this is them arriving to the lake!

(this got long so most of it will be under the cut.)

***

It was summer.

Summer meant blistering asphalt and bags of trash stewing on the curb each morning. Hazy sunlight blinding the street, dark cavernous pockets of shade where the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees, but the air stayed stale and suffocating all the same. It meant too many people and too much noise and parties in the park that never seemed to end, one just replacing another in an endless cycle of hedonism, and bottles of chilled wine and cheap beer sweating on the fountain walls. It meant long dinners and longer lunches, ice cream trucks and Italian ice carts on opposite corners of the street carrying on an old world rivalry. It meant golds and blues and lush greens wherever your eyes happened to fall, be it on a back alley garden or storefront window display.

Silver loved summer.

He loved the warmth and the sprawling picnics and the baring of skin and the feral energy of a child free from school amplified to suit a city of millions and the heady summer storms that shook the glittering skyline in a kind of holy cleanse. He loved the summer fruits and the sweet aperitifs and the old school white linen shirts and open fire hydrants flooding the streets and the neon lights reflecting in the puddles left behind, still evaporating in the hot night, giving the whole world an ethereal glow.

Though he had to admit it was always better spent on a beach with a frosted drink and not a goddamn thing to do. But, if a beach couldn’t be procured, a big, cool, well air conditioned house that was paid for by someone else was an excellent alternative. His sister’s condo in Chelsea for instance was an excellent place to waste away a summer on parties and sun bathing and a private pool that no one else seemed to have the time to use. He had spent several summers with Max that way, even once the Rangers had become part of the picture, if Silver was on the east coast for the summer, he would drop in and waste away a while.

Now though, it looked like summers were going to be spent in Brooklyn, in the big cool townhouse that Thomas had paid for, with the truly miraculously internal air con that was always kept at a balmy 65 degrees from May to October, and with very little to do outside of whatever suited his fancy on any given day. Oh and sex, a lot of sex. This would be the first summer in a very long time where he could not only allow himself a libido, but he could also satiate it.

Silver was thoroughly content with the new circumstances.

He was less content however, with how the summer months, or maybe just the summer months in the city, seemed to bring out the worst in people as frequently as it did the best.

Flint, for example, did not handle summers as well as Silver did. In part it was due to the heat and the sun and the weird smells coming off the steamy side walks, and Silver understood Flint’s frustration with all that, he truly did. But summer also meant more tourists and more people going out for a good time, more people starting brawls in bars and fights in the street and parties spilling over from one bar to the next, or worse packs of bigots making the rounds and harassing whomever they find, everything the working class service folks of the city dreaded- in short, Flint’s stress levels seemed to just rise with the temperature. And considering an average day in July might easily crack 100, Silver was starting to get a tad worried.

“Is it like this every summer?” Silver had asked one Friday morning in June.

The kitchen was soft with the morning sunlight, Thomas in his silk night shirt and robe as he perused the menu for the cafe on the corner, Silver fixing them each an espresso.

“To a point yes. You know how James is about control,” Thomas said with a fond smile, “when he’s at his best he can combat every threat to his sovereignty without so much as flinching. But the summer gets to him, makes him a bit of a wolf in a cage, so to speak.”

“Was he worse in Manhattan?” the buildings sometimes reminded Silver of a cell block, the slivers of sunlight cutting through as hot as cattle prods.

“Much. Hal has tried talking him into not working as much in the summer, but you know how he is, can’t be told anything once he’s got his mind made up. Not to mention he’s never been good at simply existing. There always has to be purpose in it, work to be done, fields to plow and what not.”

Silver huffed a laugh and brought Thomas’ espresso over, feeling a sense of warmth at the notion that he and Thomas were able to share this, to share flint and all his eccentricities.

“I’m sure a man as clever as you thought of some way to keep his blood pressure down, hm?” he asked, raising his eyebrows. Thomas took the espresso cup without looking away from the menu. He set it aside and pulled Silver in, kissing him sweetly in thanks. Ah, that was also a nice thing to share with Thomas, Silver reminded himself.

“Oh I came up with a few ideas, pet. How about we order breakfast, and I’ll tell you about them.”

By Friday, the three of them were packed into Flint’s old Range Rover heading upstate for two weeks of holiday bliss. It had taken multiple phone calls to Gates to make sure the bar would in fact be alright while Flint was gone and to make sure he barred Flint from being within a dozen yards of The Walrus once it closed on Thursday night. It had also taken coaxing, convincing, bartering, and eventually outright bribery with sex to get Flint to stop scowling about the idea of being away from his “ship” for longer than a weekend. There had been other phone calls as well, placed by Thomas in the early hours of the morning when he thought he was the only one awake. When asked about them he just waved the questions away with a mild, “oh just a little extra surprise for James thats all” and Silver did his best to trust him.

It was a five hour drive from the house in Brooklyn to the house on Lake Cayuga that Thomas had purchased during his recovery, to he and Flint would have a quiet place to heal and make up for lost time without the strain of the city grating on them. Silver had never been upstate, his various clients had always preferred houses in the Hamptons, but from the photos it was a cozy little cottage style house right on the shore, a couple bedrooms, an airy kitchen, lush garden, and a private pier that stretched out into the lake. There was also apparently a boat, a little hybrid sailboat of polished wood and deep blue paint, the name Ariel written in careful golden script. Silver wanted to ask whether Flint had bought it or built it, because he was the kind of high strung man to just build a boat from scratch instead of buying one or scheduling extra therapy. But the scowl on his face as they tucked the suitcases into the trunk told him it wasn’t worth the teasing. Not yet anyway.

Flint insisted on driving the whole five hours himself, scowling silently behind the wheel as he drove them through miles of lush farmland, leaving Thomas and Silver to chat about what they might do once they get settled in. There was plenty of hiking, though Thomas was worried the gorges might be tricky for Silver’s regular prosthetic, ample water falls and countless parks to explore. Lots of quaint small towns with seafood shacks and local fare and more wineries than even Thomas knew what to do with. And of course, most importantly, there was the lake.

Flint kept his silence till the last hour of the ride, the scowl firmly set on his jaw. Silver and Thomas had switched seats so Thomas could stretch out and nap in the back seats, leaving Silver to try and coax a smile out of his partner. Not that he had to do much. As the car climbed yet another rolling hill, Silver watched the horizon, his hand in Flint’s, trying to figure out whether the deep blue streak that had suddenly appeared was a dark patch of sky.

It wasn’t, for the record.

Silver frowned and turned to Flint, planning to ask if it was the lake and exactly how big was said lake- but the question died well before he could even open his mouth.

The scowl was gone, dropped from Flint’s face and replaced by the softest look of wonder Silver had ever seen on the man, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, making his mustache twitch. It was as if something had hooked its line into Flint’s chest and was slowly reeling him in, his whole body sitting straighter, the tension in his shoulders bleeding out until he was leaning into the steering wheel. His hand even held tighter to Silver’s, an unconscious need to keep himself tethered maybe, or to keep Silver close.

“Is that the lake?” Silver managed to ask with a soft smile of his own.

“Yeah. We’ll be at the cabin in half an hour.”

They got there in twenty minutes, not that anyone was actually counting.

The lake stretched out before them, a sea of deep blues and aquamarines, glittering with the hot late June sunlight that danced across it’s surface. It’s shores were patched with wildflowers and thick thatches of wood, little clusters of cabins and boat houses, who’s owners were out skipping across the surface like dragon flies on their small boats and kayaks. The afternoon air was hazy and sweet, the whole scene a postcard from the mythical summers of memory that everyone aspired to, bird song and the low hum of the radio escorting them along the final stretch of route 90. Flint pulled them down a narrow side road, passing a few comfortably sized homes with ample space between them, until they reached the dead end of the street, and the little cottage Silver had seen in the photos, with the shadow of the pier dark across the water, and the Ariel waiting like a loyal dog in her berth.

“Oh good,” Thomas said with a yawn, finally pulling himself back into a sitting position and stretching, as Flint pulled the car into the drive alongside what looked like a rental car. “I was starting to think we were lost.”

Silver looked back at him, ready to tease about old men and naps, but Thomas was looking down at his phone, his fingers quickly switching on the stop watch. “Thomas what-”

The range rover lurched to a sudden stop as Flint hit the brakes and Silver had to cling to the seat to keep himself upright. Thomas seemed completely unfazed, draped across the back seat in his half buttoned linen shirt and designer sunglasses, watching with an air of fond expectation as Flint threw on the parking brake and booked it from the car, leaving the engine running.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Silver asked.

Thomas laughed and reached around the driver’s seat to shut the car off. “Exactly what I expected him to do, though I’ll admit I expected him to at least properly stop the car first.”

“What? Thomas- oh my god he’s going in the lake?” Silver asked, watching as Flint cleared the back fence and striped off his shirt, leaving it on the lawn as he kept moving towards the pier. His boots, socks, and jeans followed, barely breaking his quick stride to strip them off.

“Last time it took him a whole ten minutes to get into the water,” Thomas said, helping Silver, who was too busy staring in shock at the sight of his stern and stoic partner racing across the back patio like a child, from the car. “He might clear five minutes this time.”

A few more quick strides and Flint dove from the end of the pier, breaking the surface of the lake with a thunderous sound and disappearing into the blue.

“He’s in the lake,” Silver said.

Thomas hooked their arms together, the two of them walking leisurely across the lawn. “Every visit, the first thing he does is go to the water. It’s even more dramatic when it’s the ocean, maybe I’ll book us a house on the coast next month.”

“More dramatic than stripping down to his boxers in the back yard?” he asked.

The back lawn of the house was a mix of a large patio and and a short green, with a fire pit and a grill, a small dining table and some cozy chairs, and what silver hoped was a hot tub. A woman was stretched out on one of the long beach chairs in a deep green bikini, her dark hair cut short and a magazine across her lap, though she was watching the water, where Flint had just resurfaced for a moment before diving again.

“Miranda?” Silver called, aware that Thomas was beaming behind him but not at all surprised to see his ex wife. That explained the phone calls, and the rental car out front.

“I believe our husband is in the lake my dears,” Miranda called with a laugh, getting up to come greet them. “God he’s like a little boy at a swimming hole.”

“I’d ask how you got here but that seems almost silly,” Silver said, letting her pull him into a tight hug. They had taken to each other from the first, which had left Thomas and Flint a little uneasy. Miranda’s humor matched his, her wit sharp and familiar, and Silver had learned very quickly why Flint and Thomas were both still in love with her. He wasn’t far from it himself.

“Thomas called, said James needed an intervention,” She said, letting him go to kiss Thomas hello and hug him tight. “I’m on break from teaching this summer and the fall concert season hasn’t started yet, could I come out and join you for a couple weeks? Which was a silly question, I was buying a ticket the moment he suggested it.”

Thomas kissed the top of her head, smiling brightly. “I had hoped you might be his surprise before he jumped in the lake, I’m sorry my dear.”

Silver watched them, feeling a bit dizzy. They were were a perfect pair, Miranda dark and elegant under Thomas’ arm, the cool dusk sky to Thomas’ golden hour sun.

“Don’t be, I’ll go down to him, maybe join him in the water for a bit.” She kissed his cheek, then Silver’s. “There’s some snacks laid out in the kitchen and dinner will be delivered in a couple hours, why don’t you get the bags inside and then come join us. Maybe we can even take Ariel out before dinner.”

“Oh now there’s an idea,” Thomas agreed, moving to go back and fetch the bags from the car. “Tell our husband we’ll join you in a moment. If you can manage to get him up for air.”

Miranda laughed, a bright sunny sound that always reminded Silver of how she played piano, and made her way down to the pier. He watched as she sat down on the edge of the pier, as the surface of the water broke and Flint emerged, staring up at her in shock. Silver heard her laughing, saw her reach out and watched as Flint reached up and pulled her into the lake with a joyful shout of her name. They were lost for a moment to the water, kicking up waves as Flint held her tight and danced them around, clumsy and free. Behind him Silver could hear Thomas laughing, felt his hand as it came to rest warm and sure on his lower back, pulling him in close, as he said something about wishing they’d gotten that on film.

For Silver, it was one of those moments where suddenly he remembered what all those old love songs were written about. He understood it.

And it was finally his.

[loversamongus]

Friends, Fevers, Family Movies

a/n: first one shot for @fromthewatertribe‘s 1k follower event! This turned out to be A LOT longer than I expected and it was also originally for a whole other prompt??? And then just??? Evolved into this??? I knew I wanted to write something that featured a Sokka friendship (and a Katara one!) but also feature good ol’ Zuko fluff. So here ya go. Word vomit. TO CELEBRATE NINA BEING AWESOME.

Also important: written as a world without covid, but does mention the flu. prompt: go to bed, you idiot.

words: 2k

relationship: Zuko x reader

Sharing an apartment with your best friends has its highs and lows. On the bright side, you truly lucked out between the epic prank wars, overly competitive game nights, and the bureaucratic division of chore responsibilities. However, there’s also the constant paranoia that someone can jump out of your closet in a gorilla costume, the frustrated search for the last blue Sorry piece after a certain sore loser flipped over the coffee table, and Katara’s insistence on hand washing all dishware even though the kitchen has a perfectly good dishwasher. The three of you never experience a dull moment.

And you’re so grateful to be living with them. Sokka and Katara are your best friends but now it’s like having a brother and sister of your own. Due to the smaller size of the apartment, you and Katara share a bedroom but neither of you would have it any other way. Though you both have your own corner of the room, you’ll spend hours laying on the gray shag rug in the middle between your beds just talking.

“Today, at the diner, a man had the AUDACITY to call me ‘pretty girl’ and like, yes I am pretty but I don’t need an old coffee-breathed, wrinkly limp noodle to tell me that so I assumed he was just stating the obvious and that I should also call him by obvious nicknames in order to better communicate with and understand the customer, as my manager puts it.”

“And what did you call him?”

“When I came back with their food, he said, ‘Can the pretty girl also get us some mayonnaise packets?’ And I said, ‘Not a problem, ‘crusty man.’”

Katara tried her darnedest to flash you a severe look but couldn’t help choking on a fit of giggles.

“Suki approves of it and we spent the rest of our shift calling each other different names when we crossed paths!”

The rest of the night would linger on with more work day stories, giggles, and Sokka occasionally pounding on the door for you both to shut up already because he is trying to sleep goddamnnit and can’t do that while the apartment is filled with your shrill girlish squeals.

Finally, when you both struggle to fight off sleep, you wave the white flag and drag yourself into bed. But just before you drift off, you hear Katara whisper your name from across the room. You’re not even sure if she’s awake, you’re both so tired, but you answer anyways.

“Hmm?”

“What do you think of Aang?”

“He adores you (yawn) it’s so sweet. I like him for you.”

There’s a silence and you think you’re free to finally fall into your dreams until Katara speaks again.

“What do you think of Zuko?”

“Hmm? I dunno, he’s our (yawn) friend and I like when he brings over (yawn) fireball for game night (yawn) why?”

Your exhaustion overpowers you before you could hear Katara respond, “Because he adores you, it’s so sweet. I like him for you.”

Although also your best friend, living with Sokka feels much less sweet and much more chaotic. Somehow you’re at each other’s throats more so than he is with his own blood related sister. It may have started when the Sock Battle started, a game in which Sokka made it his mission to hide his stenchiest pair of socks somewhere in your stuff. By now, you’ve found his socks in your pillowcases, in textbooks, in your gym bag, and in a picture frame next to your bed. You deliberately retaliate in any way you can during game night. While these instances often have you second guessing your friendship with him, you and Sokka could both put the bickering aside with a Disney movie and a bucket of buttered popcorn.

You could have killed him though when he gave you the flu. Katara was spared thanks to her daily regimen of vitamins and obsession with cleanliness, and Sokka had even recovered rather quickly. But you were not as lucky. Even though it was only the beginning of October, you had Katara dig out your flannel holiday pajamas to warm you up from the chills. The darling that she is, Katara made you her famous homemade soup and set it by your bedside table before heading out to see Aang. In the meantime, it was time for payback.

“Sokka, I need you to refill my water bottle.”

“Do it yourself.”

“Fine and when I get over to the kitchen I’ll lick every bag of beef jerky you own.”

“Oh my god, fine. Give me your water bottle.”

“Sokka, I need to charge my phone. Give me your charger.”

“No? Yours in your room, go get it.”

“If only my legs weren’t so weak from this terrible flu I’ve contracted from someone I trusted to be more hygienic.”

“Here, take it.”

“Sokka, you need to light a candle in the bathroom. Ooh do the rose petal one.”

“Ugh, no. You know I hate yours and Katara’s girly scented candles.”

“Okay, but then don’t complain about the smell when you go in.”

“It can’t be that bad— OH MY GOD DID SOMETHING CRAWL OUT OF YOU AND DIE?! OH MY GOD IT’S TRAVELLING. IT’S TRAVELLING THROUGH THE APARTMENT.”

By the fourth day of having the flu, Sokka was sick. Not of the flu. Of you. Katara had been spending as much time with Aang as she could to avoid catching anything from you so the responsibility of taking care of you fell on Sokka. And he was finally reaching the breaking point after you left used tissues all over “his side” of the couch. You snuggled into your pile of blankets as you watched your best friend grumble about the living room, every so often glancing at you while muttering incoherently.

After picking up the last of your snot filled, flu infected tissues, Sokka stood in front of you and took a long, exaggerated breath.

“I am leaving this Land of Disgusting to eat at the diner before driving Suki home.”

“Sokka, you had me at ‘I am leaving.’”

“Shut up. You still have a fever so I’ve called in reinforcements to look after you while Katara and I are both out. They’ll be here shortly after I’m gone. Can you handle yourself for 10 minutes?”

“Aye aye, captain.”

Before leaving, Sokka grabbed one more blanket from your room to bring to you on the couch. You realize how lucky you are to be such a pain in the ass and still be so loved by your little family. These happy thoughts, along with the utter amusement over the possibility of Toph being the one taking care of you, lulled you into a short, soft nap.

When you open your eyes next, the living room is dark, save for the small lamp in the corner of the room. As you go to stretch out your legs on the couch, your feet kick into something that wasn’t there before.

“Sokka?” you ask wearily, assuming your friend is back from dropping Suki off home.

“Nope.”

It wasn’t Sokka’s voice. Nor was it Toph’s. Trying your best to sit up under the weight of five blankets, you turn your head to see Zuko’s face illuminated by his phone’s screen as his thumb continued to scroll.

“Oh. Hi.”

He looked over at you. “Hey. Can I get you anything?”

It takes you a moment to get over the fact that Zuko is the reinforcements, the one called to take care of you while your roommates are out of the apartment. But finally you respond, “Actually, my throat is really dry. Can you grab my water bottle for me?”

He reached over to the coffee table to grab your water bottle for you. Then, after handing it you, Zuko went back to looking at his phone.

“Katara says you have to take your medicine once you’ve woken up.”

“Ugh noooooo. I don’t want to.”

Taking pills has never been your been your strong suit. Maybe it’s your irrational fear of choking on them or just your innate ability to be stubborn about everything but you try to put up your best fight.

“You have to. Or else we’ll have to cancel another game night or you just won’t be able to play with us. And then who would kill Sokka first in Among Us.”

“You’ll have to continue my legacy, that’s all.”

“Just take the pills. I already cut them up for you.”

“Fine... thank you.”

After you swallow the last pill, you lay back down on the couch but Zuko gets up.

“Where are you going?”

“Since you’re up now, let’s watch a movie. There’s nothing else you should really be doing in your condition.”

“I have my DVDs on my shelf in my room. Pick me a Disney movie?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Oh my god, please? I am very sick and frail and only the nostalgic joys of my childhood can cure me.”

“....fine.”

You muster up a squeal that quickly turns into a cough as Zuko leaves the room. After a few minutes he comes back with Toy Story 2, a choice that makes you raise an eyebrow considering its heartbreaking song is not something you’d expect Zuko to want to watch. Nonetheless, you hardly protest as the two of you settle in on the couch for the movie to begin.

To your surprise, the animated movie managed to steal a couple chuckles from Zuko. After all the bickering throughout the week with Sokka, it was a welcome and pleasant sound ringing in your ears. Despite your better judgment, you shift closer to him, especially when you know Jessie’s big song is getting closer. He doesn’t move away though and even wraps an arm around you. When a chill runs down your spine, you wonder if it’s due to the fever.

“Are you crying?”

“It’s just SO sad, how could you not, Zuko?! Somebody needs to LOVE HER AGAIN.”

Grinning, he hands you the tissue box, which you fully accept both for your tears and flu-inflicted runny nose. But once the song ends and you’ve let out a good cry, your eyelids start to feel enormously heavy. Zuko must sense this because he scoots a bit closer to you, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder. You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to pass the flu onto Zuko, but for some reason he feels warmer than the mountains of blankets you’re buried under.

The rest of the movie plays on and you struggle to keep your eyes open, often shifting against Zuko to wake yourself back up. You know there’s more to the movie but Zuko picks up the remote and turns off the tv. Before you could even question what he’s doing, he’s lifting you up and walking you to your room.

“But we didn’t see the end of the movie!”

“You weren’t going to stay up to see the end anyways.”

“But you needed to see Jessie and Bullseye find new homes! With Andy! And Wheezy!! Wheezy gets fixed!!”

He helped you under the covers and sat beside you on your bed for a moment. You still feel enough energy to offer up a few more protests.

“Only the end of the movie can cure me with its pure, unadultered childhood joy! You can use some, too! Disney fixes all things!”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, but before getting up, Zuko leaned in to kiss your forehead lightly.

“Go to bed, you idiot.”

You didn’t even register when he left your side because you were asleep again within minutes. In fact, when the sunlight from the bedroom window wakes you up hours later, you could have sworn it was all just a fever dream anyways. Disney movies cuddled up with Zuko? Definitely sounds fake. However, later on in the morning, you do begin to suspect it was all real when you find your Toy Story 2 DVD still in DVD player and catching Katara and Sokka trying to discreetly give each other a high five.

[lunarliza]

Dirty Little Secret | Chapter 3: Bandanas

fuckbuddy!JJ x Kook!Reader

series masterlist | prev. chapter | chapter one

You and JJ are fuck buddies- strictly physical. But what happens when you find yourself falling more and more for everyone’s favorite golden boy even though all he can see you as is a spoiled rich girl?

Your eyes peeled open. You groaned at the lack of sleep as you shifted to your bedside table to check your phone. Almost immediately after your rendezvous the night before, JJ dashed out the window, leaving you to drift to sleep. 

Sometimes, you’d get this weird feeling after he would leave so quickly- like you were being used. Well, you were, but you hated feeling like it. It was like a comedown after the euphoria of sex and it didn’t always feel the best, but you dealt with it. It had be going on for almost three months; you were way too in over your head at this point. 

You sighed, staring at the wall across your bed, thinking back to the remnants of that first night. How nasty and humid the air felt as you both rejoined the party after like nothing happened: 

“You can’t tell anyone about what just happened,” JJ stated as he fixed his shorts. 

His words did pierce you slightly, but you put on a front nevertheless. “Please, I’d rather be caught dead than with you.” 

He chuckled to himself as you both trudged down the beach. “That’s not what I heard back there princess.” 

It didn’t take long for your parents to blow up your phone that night, seeing it was 3 a.m. and their daughter was nowhere to be found. You came home with the smell of alcohol emitting through your clothes.You only hoped you had wiped off enough smeared mascara on the car ride home to deter them. Your mother read you the riot act as Ted stood in the corner of the kitchen. She screamed and hollered before her palm finally came in contact with your cheek. 

The following Monday, you ditched last period and drove over to The Cut, hoping to come across JJ. Driving along a narrow street, you see the shirtless golden boy mowing the lawn in a small yard. Pulling up, you rolled the windows down while a devilish grin snaked its way to his lips once he caught sight of you.

“Couldn’t stay away from me huh?”

You glared at him. “Just shut up and get in.” 

Shutting off the lawn mower, he hopped in your car, smelling of sweat and freshly cut grass . 

“Look,” you began, fiddling with the ends of your blouse, “I’m not looking for anything serious.” 

JJ’s finger tilted your chin up to meet his eyes. It was different seeing them in broad daylight. He didn’t seem like some sleazy Pogue you met at a party. He actually reminded you of a puppy... an annoying one with anger issues. 

“I understand if-” 

“No, I get you,” he answered, biting his lower lip. “After the way we fucked that night, I’m down to... go at it again.” 

“Okay but we need rules,” you insisted to which he rolled his eyes. “What’s with chicks and rules?” 

“This island is small and talk gets around. No one can know about us.” 

“Well duh.” He gave you an annoyed look. “You may think you’re all that and a bag of chips but my friends would totally clown me if they found out I was with a Kook, much less you.” 

“Oh please! What do you even know about me?” you retorted, not having his attitude outburst. 

“Y/n, you’re like bitchiest of them all,” he replied snarkily and your eyes met the ceiling of your car. “Not even the Kooks like you.” 

“Shut up, asshole.” You tried to hide the hurt from the fact that even he knew about your reputation. “Anyways, rule number two: we have to meet on Figure Eight.” 

“Hell no, why do I have to haul my ass to you?” 

You sighed heavily, gripping the bottom of the steering wheel. “My stepdad will literally kill me if he finds me here. Look, I know all the hiding places there and I’ll even get you a keycard to get in through the gate.” 

JJ smiled to himself. “Kill you huh? And yet, here you are, coming here, practically begging for me to fuck you. What will daddy think about that?” 

You contemplated punching him in that moment. “Don’t flatter yourself. You followed me that night remember?” 

JJ shrugged, leaning back in the seat. “I thought you were a touron. It was dark- sue me. Anyways, fine! We meet at the Eight. Anything else?” 

“This goes without saying, but absolutely no feelings,” you stated sternly as JJ snorted. 

“Oh princess, you do not have to worry about that whatsoever.” 

“Fine then, it’s a deal.” 

You both shook on it. JJ held onto your hand a moment longer to tug you onto the passenger seat, colliding his lips with yours. It didn’t take you both very long to undress and climb into the back seat afterwards.

A loud knock on your bedroom door startled you. “Y/n! Breakfast in ten minutes!” 

Peeling off your duvet, you leaped out of bed and started doing some small stretches until you noticed a jumbled up grey bandana on your window seat. 

“Fucking kid,” you muttered to yourself before reaching for it and throwing it in a bin on your shelf. 

JJ was klepto alright. He also had a terrible habit of leaving shit everywhere he went. If he tried to rob a bank, he’d be caught in seconds because he’d leave some trace of him. Over the course of your agreement you unintentionally started making a collection of the things he left. What started out as a bracelet on your nightstand grew to socks, lighters, hats, sunglasses, tank tops, and the occasional perfectly rolled joint (that he’d never see again). You always meant to give back all the shit he left, but he’d always leave so hurriedly that you’d forget and the collection would just grow. 

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

“Jade!” you blurted unexpectedly as you strolled into the kitchen. “What are you doing here?” 

The small brunette sat next to your mother at the table, halfway done with her breakfast plate. She flashed you her killer sunny smile as your mom chimed in from her seat. “Jade here was in the neighborhood and wanted to take you on a boat ride this morning with the Cameron family.” 

“It’ll be fun y/n!” she insisted, kicking her tiny legs that didn’t reach the floor.

You were a little confused as to why you were invited to hang out with the Cameron kids seeing as they have always ignored you at school and every event. Jade caught on and threw you a look that said ‘just go with it’. 

“Um, yeah. I’m really excited to hang out with uh- Sierra and Ra- her brother,” you babbled, earning yourself an ‘Are you fucking kidding me’ look. You shrugged your shoulders, helping yourself to some eggs and pancakes. 

“Well sweetie, I think it’s great that you’re getting to know more people around here! Don’t forget you do need an escort for the Debutante Ball in a few weeks so maybe you can ask the Cameron boy to take you,” your mother suggested and Jade nearly spit out her fruit at the mention of it.  

You closed your eyes, sighing. “Yes, of course mother.” 

“So when were you going to tell me you’re a debutante!” Jade cackled as you both made way to the Camerons’ boat along the dock.  

“If you ever mention it again, I will personally slit your throat.” 

“You! You y/n of all people!” She had to suppress her laughter to a fit of giggles. “So wait, you’ve been going to Chapel Hill all this time to learn how to ballroom dance and do all that?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Yes! I told you my mother is actually insane. Anyways, what are we doing hanging out with the Camerons anyways? I thought you hated their sister.” 

“I do,” Jade responded as-a-matter-of-factly, “It’s the brother that’s delicious. Oh- and Sarah won’t be there and neither will their dad or any of their family really. It’s just going to be Rafe and a couple of his friends. He told me to bring some friends too so it won’t be awkward.” 

“And you chose me of all people? Jade, you have plenty of other very sociable friends you could have brought.” 

“Shut up y/n! You’re hot as shit okay! You just need to get out there more and meet people. Maybe then you won’t hate it here so much. Trust me, once you experience the OBX the right way, you’ll absolutely love it.” 

You crinkled your nose at her. “You’re just as insane as my mother.”  

“Come on! There are hot guys wanting to take us on their very nice boats. It’s free drinks and maybe some food,” she promised. 

You groaned. “Fine, but if any of them make an unsolicited move on me, I’m jumping overboard and swimming home. Also, now that I think about it, isn’t Rafe like way too old to be hanging around us?” 

Jade shrugged. “A little age never hurt nobody.” The boys whooped as Jade made her grand entrance onto their very large white boat as you trailed behind. Another thing you weren’t well versed in since moving here- boats. To you it was just big and small, windows and no windows, motor and no motor, but it was like a language here. When everyone would start rambling off about engines and fishing and whatnot you would just kindly smile and nod until they got the hint and walked away. 

“Who’s your friend McCoy?” a tall boy with slicked back hair asked Jade as he enclosed an arm around her waist. 

“Rafe, this is y/n! She moved here in October and lives on the east end of the Eight.” 

So this was the famous Rafe Cameron. You’d seen him a couple times golfing with Ted when you would hide away in the golf cart on your phone. Ted would mention a few times about how he was trouble and, telling by the way he still hung out with high schoolers at almost 20 years old, you believed it. 

You smiled uneasily and gave him a tiny wave as two other guys emerged from the front with a cooler. They both coordinated with the colorful short-shorts and printed button ups. They also wore those God-awful tinted sunglasses with the band connecting the backs. You recognized them from school- Topper and Kelce.

“Oh hey y/n,” they greeted tensely, each giving you an awkward smile and one-armed hug. You were in shock they knew your name even.

“McCoy, did you bring anyone else?” Kelce asked, totally not making it obvious of your unwanted presence. 

Not even the Kooks like you. 

You knew you’d have a hard time the moment you stepped foot onto Figure Eight. You had a very humble upbringing, which was unfathomable to the kids at school, so it was hard for you to make any real friends besides Jade. During the school year, you ate lunch by yourself and sprinted home as soon as the final bell rang. It got to a point where, when anyone would try to talk to you, you’d either roll your eyes or just simply ignore them. 

“Nope! Just me and my girl.” Jade flung an arm around your shoulder and handed you a beer. She raised her eyebrows at you to check if you were okay, and you smiled reassuringly, taking the bottle. 

“Let’s hope she knows how to hang,” Topper added as he started the engine on the boat. 

You sipped on your beer as you rode down the marsh. Kelce tried to make small talk with you as Topper drove and Jade macked on Rafe. It actually wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, Kelce did have the occasional funny story or witty thing to say even if it was about swinging a golf club or purchasing some extravagant item no one ever needed. 

“Woah Pogue alert,” you heard Topper warn as he steered next to a smaller boat hanging on the side

You glanced over and immediately met eyes with JJ who was casually laying back with his friends- two dudes and a girl. When he wasn’t acting like a complete jerk, he actually looked down to earth and kind of innocent. Cans of cheap beer littered their deck and a cute little ‘HMS Pogue’ lettering hung from the back. 

You turned back to Kelce, thinking it was just a quick pass by until you heard something thump on the side of the boat from their side. 

“Fucking rats!” Rafe barked at the group and hurled an open can of beer over towards them. 

“That’s for the van you sons of bitches!” you heard JJ holler as Topper slowed down the boat so they were eye-to-eye. 

“Hey that’s payback! I know it was you that fucked up my bike, filthy Pogue!” Topper snarled, pointing at JJ, tumbling more shit in their direction. 

The throwing escalated into an all-out war. You screamed and joined Jade who was clearly outraged as she ducked under the cooler for cover. 

“Rafe, just fucking drop it and let’s go! You’re wasting shit at this point,” she urged also throwing Topper a stern look to get moving.  

“This isn’t over!” Rafe roared at the group as Topper sped up the engine again. 

“That’s right, just ride along you fucking Kooks! And take your hoes with you!” JJ shouted. 

You threw a glare his way at the vulgar name he called you and stuck up middle fingers his way, sailing off. 

Fucking tool. 

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chapter four

tags: @starkeybaby​ @obxlife​ @everydayimfangirling​ @iamaunicorn4704​ @tangledinsparkles​ @poguesrforlife​​ @thx-quxxn​ @obxmxybxnk​ @rororo06​ @poguesforlife​ @ilymarkchan​