#cries in mr. chips

[ranoutofideas2021]

*cries in Mr. Chips*

Being a system is so weird like my mummy and daddy didn't like me so now I'm sans the skeleton

[attapullman]

Bob From Stats | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: College is a wild time, but absolutely nothing could prepare you for the quiet guy from Stats riding around campus as a cowboy. Or what a good kisser he is.

Word Count: 4.9k

Warnings: f!reader, smut, 18+ ONLY as always, dry humping, alcohol, drunken party games, mentions of studying because that gives me PTSD, semi-exaggerated Greek life for theatrical reasons

A Note From Mo: Somehow my frat!Bob, drunk Bob is Rhett, and 7 minutes in heaven ideas all rolled into one fic - wild! Massive shoutout to everyone who listened to me talk about Stats Bob (who is now officially my #2 Bob, I love him) and for supporting this here lil blog. May you find a hobby-horse-wielding future WSO to sweep you off your feet too!

If you liked this, you may also enjoy on our syllabus Bob From Pi Kapp.

“I hate this. I’m going to quit school and become a stripper.”

Anna gives you a wry look. “That joke was only funny the first time you said it.”

“So you admit I’m funny!”

The two of you have been spread out in the library the majority of the evening. Textbooks, snacks, and highlighters littering the glossy dark wood. You’re on hour five of assignments and your brain is pounding against the front of your skull. Your other classes aren’t too bad, a bit time consuming, but Statistics is a foreign language. Thinking in probable numbers? It was one thing when the nice guy who sat behind you helped explain concepts, but Anna does not have quite the same analytical mind.

The sky outside is an inky black and the library is quiet except for your frustrated huffs. It’s Saturday night. The rest of campus is indulging in cheap beers at Barney’s, slinking along Greek Row, or enjoying tonight’s episode of Saturday Night Live. It’s time to get out of here and crawl into your soft bed. Torturing yourself with Stats homework will be just as painful on Sunday.

“If I buy us a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough, can we blow this off and hang out back at the dorms?” Anna is nodding before you’ve even finished. Stuffing notebooks into backpacks and capping pens low on ink, you’re strolling down the library stairs not even five minutes later.

As the balmy evening campus air hits your face, you already feel fresher. Campus is quiet, late enough that most people are settled into their Saturday night plans. As the two of you near Greek Row, there’s a comfortable silence as you appreciate the breeze through the trees and the warm glow of campus housing windows.

That is, until a low whoop rings out. An undercurrent of boisterous cheering and what sounds like stomping feet. You exchange eyes with your roommate. What is that?

As if summoned, a group comes galloping through the neatly trimmed cypress trees around the corner. They’re stomping their feet in a rhythm, hands held mid-air to imitate holding reigns. Drunken laughs ring out between cries of “Whoa!” and “Steady there, Lucky!” To round it off, the leader of their horse play (literally) is full-on cosplaying as a cowboy, his jeans tucked into boots and a Stetson perched atop his head. 

Wait, is he holding a hobby horse? It’s been decades since you’ve seen those horse heads stuck on a stick. The stuffed felt Appaloosa head is reigned in the cowboy’s hands, where he pretends to spur it back into action. 

Just when you think you’ve seen it all.

The group continues its way toward you and you’re equally secondhand embarrassed and amused. As they grow closer you recognize a few guys from the Pi Kapp house and wave. But it’s Anna who makes the most shocking discovery when Mr. Cowboy tilts his brim up.

"Is that Bob from Stats?" 

It takes a second to look past the brown felt hat and the hobby horse he's taking for a spin, but that's definitely the same pink-cheeked Bob Floyd who has lent you a pencil all semester. 

“Howdy, ladies.” He tips his hat to you, all toothy grin and droopy drunk eyes. "Can I offer you a ride?"

You stare open-mouthed. Shocked. That slow rancher drawl is new. The unbridled confidence is new. Actually, the entire getup is new. For nine weeks you’ve seen him in the same trucker hat and sweatshirt combo while going over homework answers together. What is going on?

He’s clearly in the middle of his house party crawl, bright blue eyes half open behind his metal frames. Just as gorgeous as ever as a tendril of sandy hair curls against his forehead. Normally your reaction to him is tender, a puppy dog crush. But this wild, inebriated version of him? You’re hot under the collar.

“You think there’s room on your horse?” Ever since that first Stats class he’s made your brain feel like it’s on RedBull. The way he noticed you missing a writing utensil and offering you his extra. His kind smile when you get a homework answer completely wrong. Anna hasn’t noticed your crush, but it feels obvious with the way you can barely keep eye contact with him yet are unable to look away. Especially with that stupid cowboy hat on.

He bites his lip, considering your response, and his buddies all razz him as he drawls out, “There will be if we squeeze in.”

The wink makes your mouth dry.

Someone from the back of the group complains of the cold and the group prepares their steeds to head back to Pi Kapp. Anna explains you’re headed back to the dorms, tone deaf to the sexual tension, and Bob nods with his brow furrowed. 

“Another time then.” His white tshirt practically glows in the moonlight. “Have a good night, chickadees. Get home safe!”

With another tip of his Stetson to you, Bob Floyd gallops away toward another keg. 

You’re sprinting across campus, cursing how late your meeting with your advisor went. There was ten minutes to get across campus and he had spent four of those questioning whether you really needed another semester of French. You make it into the lecture hall with a minute to spare, finding your preferred spot in the lower rows where you can actually see the board. Right in front of Bob.

“What? No cowboy hat for class?” His cheeks flame red, the hope you’ve forgotten about his Saturday antics lost. He looks like himself today, his signature trucker cap keeping the hair off his face. Those friendly ultramarine eyes shyly focusing on his notebook because god forbid he makes eye contact after you’ve seen him gallop across campus on a fake horse. 

He rubs the back of his neck over his soft-looking crewneck, an awkward smile playing on his lips. “It’s at the cleaners.”

You give him an amused grin before settling yourself into one of the classically uncomfortable lecture seats. Anna waves to you from where she’s rushing in, historically always late. The professor is shuffling notes at the podium as she collapses into the seat next to you, nodding her head in greeting to you and to Bob. She raises her eyebrows to you, a “remember when Bob was dressed as a cowboy” gesture, and your lips twist happily. 

“Alright, class, who’s ready to talk probability?” The collective groans and hollers mark the start of lecture. You flip open your notebook and start digging around for a writing instrument in your bag. Like usual, you seem to be missing a pen or pencil when you need one most.

A tap on your shoulder. You turn and lock eyes with the frat boy-turned-cowboy with the shy smile. He holds out a pencil to you. Taking it sheepishly, you mouth a thank you and turn back to lecture. After nine weeks it shouldn’t be this embarrassing, but every week he’s given you a pencil since you whispered shoot! a little too loud on Week 1.

Risking a quick glance back at him, engrossed in the Empirical Law of Averages while he twirls his pencil, you’re not sure you can survive the rest of the semester.

By the end of the Stats lecture on Thursday, you have one brain cell to your name and seven pages of notes. What a brutal class. Midterms were quickly approaching and not a single professor had any mercy. As you pack up your stuff - including the borrowed pencil that would promptly disappear before next class - you make a study plan with Anna for that evening. She brings the chips, you’ll supply the vodka.

“Are you two not hitting the houses tonight?” He looks uncomfortable having interrupted the two of you.

Bob shifts his backpack to his other shoulder, adjusting the collar of his navy blue sweatshirt. Other than when he’s kindly exchanged homework answers before class - or been drunkenly galloping across campus - the two of you don’t speak much. The odd quip here and there, but overall the two of you exist in pencil-sharing quiet. “Everyone’s having pre-midterm parties before buckling down to study.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!” You look at Anna encouragingly. As needed as a vodka-infused study session was, one night out couldn’t hurt. And it was Thursday. No classes tomorrow meant you had three days to buckle down and attempt to understand anything you’ve learned this semester. 

She eyes you warily, but agrees that Greek Row sounds like a better option than highlighting textbooks. Bob flashes you his timid smile beneath the brim of his cap. “It’ll be a fun night. Maybe I’ll see you? If not, have a good weekend!” 

As he starts to walk out, a feeling takes over you. “Bob?” You watch him slow down and turn, wide blue eyes watching you from behind those unconventionally cute glasses. “You’ll be at the Pi Kapp house, yeah?” He nods. “Cool. See you around!”

Despite standing next to it the entire conversation, neither of you notice the pencil sitting on the desk, left behind as you head out for your respective weekends.

“What did you say?” You’re practically yelling to be heard over the EDM that Sigma Chi is blaring. They’ve turned their house into a rave with glow sticks, body paint, and music so loud your eardrums must be burst. The beer is warm, your arm has supernaturally purple paint smeared across it, and Anna has been unsuccessfully telling you a story for ten minutes.

Huffing, she grabs your arm and drags you toward the entrance, tossing your cups onto a random hallway table where a heated makeout session is taking place. They move out of the way just enough so the two of you can slip out of the old colonial house and out into the cool night. The ringing in your ears subsides slowly as you lean against the columns of the front porch. 

“House number three? Also sucked. Three strikes and you’re out? Can we go home?” Anna grabs your wrist and pouts. She wanted movie night with vodka and a pizza from Pietro’s. You wanted to blow off steam.

But Alpha Sig had mostly been freshman and Phi Delt, while not a terrible party, had the most smarmy men on campus. The bleeding eardrums of Sigma Chi was preferable to pushing off men in polos just to grab another drink. You just wanted a semi-decently flavored alcoholic beverage - maybe three - while chatting with some friends. You weren’t asking for much.

Allowing Anna to drag you in the direction of the dorms, ready to admit defeat, you slow to a stop seeing the bricked entrance to Pi Kappa Phi. Bob’s fraternity. A few minutes wouldn’t hurt, right?

It takes a little convincing, but soon you’re in the warmly lit foyer of the Pi Kapp house. The vibe is more relaxed than Sigma Chi, with a keg in the corner, an array of liquor bottles in the kitchen, and hip-hop softly filling the house. You’re impressed they’ve even gone the extra mile with multi-colored string lights across every surface to brighten up the otherwise dark house. 

“Yooooo, how’s it going?” A drunken loaf of snapback and Deep Eddy envelopes you in a hug. It’s Tyler, one of your freshman seminar PK friends. Exchanging pleasantries - the best you can with someone that far gone - he drags you further into the house. Miscellaneous groups of Greek and geed litter the hallways. Anna sees her friends from Delta Gamma and ditches you, promising to get home safe. Tyler continues on his mission to god knows where.

At least he’s considerate enough to stop in the kitchen so you can grab a whiskey lemonade to sip.

Eventually you’re spat into a sitting room of sorts, groups crowding the ring of sofas while drunkenly jeering at the game. You set yourself on the arm of one, trying to make sense of the theatrics. The latest victim laughs out a “Truth!” before everyone giggles wickedly. Are they playing truth or dare? 

Your eyes gloss over the group, trying to figure out who else you know. A few PK’s you recognize, a girl who smiles but looks unfamiliar, and…a cowboy hat that is a dead giveaway.

Standing up and walking around the group, you tap him on the shoulder. The biggest blue eyes meet yours, a surprised smile splitting his face. 

“You made it!” That deep drawl is back and that tingle reappears on your spine. Bob jumps up from the couch, beer bottle dwarfed in his hand, and comes to stand with you. “You having a good night?”

Ironically, your night is much better now that you’ve found him. He’s back in his cowboy gear, a worn denim shirt tucked into his jeans and those same cowboy boots scuff against the hardwood. You’re tempted to steal the felt hat from his head just so he looks a little bit more like Bob from Stats. 

Squeezing your eyes shut, letting the alcohol be an excuse, you succumb to the obvious question. “I need to know - what’s with the…cowboy?” You gesture up and down, drawing a chuckle from him.

He blushes under the felt brim. “You know I have a slight accent, yeah?” You attempt to stifle your laugh as he incidentally talks in a thicker accent. “When I was a pledge they started calling me cowboy. Saw the hat while I was in town one week, ended up leaning into the joke.”

“And the hobby horse?”

He beckons you closer, bringing his lips to your ear. “Stolen from my little sister over summer break.”

There’s that wink again making your knees weak. He pushes his glasses back up his nose and takes another sip from his beer. Despite the party raging around you, nothing else seems to exist past him asking about your night and if you want another drink. You’re wrapped in the warmth of his words, itching to snuggle into his broad chest. 

The spell is broken when “Cowboy Bob!” rings out from the crowd. The entire room is turned to you two. “Truth or dare, man?”

In the background of your intimate conversation with Bob, the truths and dares have reached full raunchiness. People have been stripped of clothes and dirty secrets. A bead of sweat gathers at Bob’s collar, aware that neither option is safe. 

His worried gaze flits to you, as if you hold the correct answer, before tipping his hat back and exhaling, “Dare?” 

It’s gutsy, but if there’s one thing you’re learning about the quiet guy from Stats, he’s full of surprises. The crowd bubbles with excitement, anticipating what dare will be dealt out. Next to you, the wannabe cowboy looks more annoyed than anything. He was enjoying talking to you not in a classroom and with a little liquid courage.

An evil smile crosses the dare-dealer’s face. He knows Bob and isn’t blind to what’s going on. He’s gonna help his buddy out on this one.

His arm stretches out and he points (with the red plastic cup in his hand) to the coat closet at the end of the hall. “Hmmmmm, I dare you to, hmm, play Seven Minutes in Heaven with…” It’s no surprise when the cup-turned-pointer lands on you.

Ice water down your back wouldn’t be as panic inducing. It’s hard to tell who swallows harder, you or Cowboy Bob. Every instinct is telling you to run, but that little voice in the back of your head wins out. As Bob starts to tell you it’s okay, they’re joking, you don’t have to, you grab his thick wrist and give him a nervous smile. You don’t even care what the punishment is for not completing a dare, this stupid drunken game has given you an opportunity.

The dealer of the dare follows the two of you down the hallway, leading the whoops and wolf whistles. Bob’s cheeks flame scarlet in the low light. You keep your chin high and eyes forward. He can definitely feel the way you’re trembling around his wrist.

Whether in anxiety or excitement it’s hard to tell.

The inside of the closet is dark, the faint light under the door casting only the faintest of shadows. Your heart is pounding, blood pulsing through your ears. Bob rubs his lips together nervously. It’s all you can do to not run your tongue along them. 

“We don’t have to do anything, we can just talk.” The way he prioritizes your comfort makes heat pool between your legs. The brim of his hat is as far back as it can go, his eyes tracing the lines of your face as he gauges your emotions. He’s welcome to figure them out, you’re unsure of them yourself. 

His large, warm hand rubs your forearm comfortingly, your skin too cold without his touch. You’re suffocating under his sweat-and-bergamot scent, citrusy and warm.

You bite the bullet. “What if I want to?”

His breath stops. Fingers find yours in the dark, interlocking on either side of your hips. Eyes you know are the deepest blue lock onto your gaze, a million emotions passing behind his irises. Face descending upon the space between you, tentatively showing his intentions. You meet him in the middle, caution out the window.

The kiss is gentle, puzzle pieces slotting together for the first time. He tastes like malt sugar and peppermint. Mouth warm and soft, enveloping you fully in his comfort. It’s even better than what you’ve imagined for the past nine weeks.

Bob begins to pull away, ever the gentleman. Your hand finds his collar, holding him in place. “Not yet, we still have, like, five and a half minutes.”

Despite the low light, his smile lights up the closet.

His lips return to yours in a rush, swallowing your mouth in a passionate heat. The press of his body to yours is delicious. Hands previously at your side meet your hips, lightly squeezing as you moan into his mouth. You reach up and hold the back of his neck, bringing him even closer as your lips toy with the tiniest bit of stubble along his jaw.

“You know,” he starts, holding the moan in the back of his throat. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since September.”

You pull back momentarily, a crinkle upon your brow. “Bob, we didn’t start Stats until January.”

He kisses the confusion from your face, his hands wrapping further around your body. “And you looked very pretty in that green dress at the homecoming barbecue.”

Bless your love of school spirit and free food. “Why didn’t you? Kiss me?”

“I don’t normally make a habit of kissing girls I don’t know. And clearly it takes an entire fraternity for me to get you alone.” The way his chuckle bounces against your skin has you squirming. Your schoolgirl crush on him wasn’t one-sided, and suddenly you’re hot for teacher. 

You capture him in another kiss, tongue searching the seam of his lips for entrance. He obliges immediately, groaning as you explore his taste. Four hands roam skin, finding purchase in anything and everything. Your body has a mind of its own as you press against him, chest heaving with your passion. The right shift of fabric on fabric reveals that he’s equally as affected by the chemistry.

Reluctantly, he pulls away once more, threading his fingers across the back of your neck. Takes a moment to capture his breath as he sees the lust in your eyes. A deep breath. “As much as I like you, I don’t want to do anything if you’re drunk.”

Soft fingers follow the line of his arm to where it wraps around your waist. How is he this impossibly sweet? Thoughtful, respectful, and looking hot as sin with swollen lips. It’s unfair.

“I promise I’m not.” You stroke the back of his hand. “Please kiss me?”

His large hands unwrap from your waist and travel down, shifting behind your legs and pulling you up, resting your back against the wall. You tangle your legs around his waist as best you can in the small space, relishing his firm body pressed deliciously close, warm and solid. Kisses smeared across lips and jaws as noises crescendo. You’re panting as you trail down to his impossibly long neck, desperate to cover it in affection.

You’ve barely explored the expanse of skin when the door flies open, the boisterous party sounds flooding in. Reality strikes like a slap across the face. The truth-or-dare ringleader takes you in - legs wrapped around Bob and hands creeping toward your ass - and whoops in delight. Who knew Cowboy Bob had it in him!

“Time’s up, lovebirds!” He crows and reaches forward to slug Bob lightly on the shoulder. 

Not skipping a beat, Bob shoves his friend back and throws up his middle finger. “Fuck off, Milburn.” 

The closet door slams shut, blanketing you again in the intimacy of the moment. You’re looking at him with unsure eyes and he’s praying the moment hasn’t been ruined. He’s waited seven calendar months for this opportunity and his fingers are so close to enjoying the plump squeeze of your ass.

“We can go back to the party if you want?” Your voice is so small, nervous outside of those bold seven minutes. Tentative breaths exist between you. 

In lieu of an answer, he bows his head to give you a searing yet gentle kiss.

That cramped coat closet suddenly is an inferno, his tongue slipping inside your mouth and groaning at the burning sweetness of your taste. Your hands grip his shoulders as you fight for dominance, fingers tangling in denim. Hips brushing together, still clinging to the idea of this being innocent. 

An innocence immediately lost when Bob strikes up the courage and palms your ass. Soft and pliable and perfect to squeeze in his palms. He remembers the exact day you came to class in the tightest jeans known to man (laundry day) and the way he had dug his pencil in his palm to avoid a semi as your curved ass met the lecture seat. Something unavoidable now as you squirm against him, moaning your pleasure against the pulse in his neck.

Nothing has ever felt as good as rubbing against Bob Floyd’s clothed bulge. One glance down and you’re dizzy with arousal. Rutting yourself against him as best you can with your limited mobility, sloppy kisses exchanged as the two of you can barely keep your mouths closed. It feels so good, too good. 

Lost in the moment, one hand slips below the hem of your skirt, warm skin on skin. Any noise from outside the closet dims to a hum. Two hearts beating rapidly as desire fully consumes, directing lips to too hot exposed skin. You murmur your need in his ear. You don’t care where you are, you need him.

Bob tucks a finger under your thong, feeling the slick coating your folds. The whine that leaves him is desperate and gruff. He groans against your throat. “Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

Undeterred, your lip catches between your teeth, core muscles contracting as you grind your hips forward. “Doesn’t mean I can’t go for a ride.”

He’s immediately on board, teasing you briefly before extricating his hand to support you better against the wall. His hands practically swallow your ass, flooding you with lust. You thrust your chest against him, desperate to touch every spot on his handsome body as your hips begin to grind. 

His hands are sweltering as they trail down, effortlessly clutching the back of your thighs to give you leverage. Your clit finds friction against his jeans and your mouth hangs open as you buck frantically into him.

“Look at you move, cowgirl,” he breathes out, infatuated. The nickname spurrs you on, whimpering against his lips.

One hand clutching his bicep, holding on for desperate life, while the other snakes its way atop the damned cowboy hat that’s stayed on the entire encounter. Gripping the top of it and holding fast as you ride his clothed bulge with everything you’ve got. Denim and lace against your clit, rubbing deliciously as your brain fuzzes. His hot mouth focused at the hinge of your jaw, sucking soft bruises into the skin; moaning when you brush him just right. 

“I’m close,” you whisper against his cheek. Time has stood still, but it’s embarrassing how close he’s gotten you to orgasm with just his clothed cock and strong hands. 

He ruts his hips forward, meeting your thrusts in heavenly synchronization. You’re panting as the pressure on your clit catapults you, so close to the ultimate prize. Whispers of you can do it, cowgirl, cum for me, doing so good riding me, just a bit more, cowgirl fizzle your senses. 

“O-oh!”

It’s intense, the blinding pleasure coursing through your body. Prolonged by the thick bulge still rutting against you, ready to burst itself. Lips tickling your ear as he praises you. You want to live in this perfect moment of bliss. A moment only perfected when Bob’s fingers grip too hard and his hips stutter up into yours. His all-consuming orgasm only muffled by the skin of your shoulder as he rides it out. 

The rhythmic slowing of your breaths is all you can focus on. You breathe in, he breathes out. Small smiles and a blush barely visible in the low light. 

Delicately, like he knows you might break, he releases you back to the ground; taking his time to smooth down your skirt and straight out your top. Your own hands reach up to his chest, fixing the fabric that had bunched up in your passion. Adjusting his fogged glasses to look into his beautiful eyes.

It doesn’t matter how much you clean up, one look at you two and anyone would comment you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.

With one final kiss to your lips, you feel something land on your head. The brown cowboy hat with the rip along the edge. Cowboy Bob showing off his cowgirl.

You tentatively open the closet door, eyes adjusting to the normal light. Painfully aware of the wet splotch on the obvious front of his jeans, Bob holds your body against him as a human shield. The party is still going strong - your antics have not interrupted anything - and you slip toward the front door without notice. Well…mostly, as a few wolf whistles reach your ears.

“It’s not that late, you want to go back to mine? I’m just off Thornton. It’s quiet since everyone is here.” His eyes are so hopeful in the dark night. So desperate for you to say yes. For you to be his cowgirl beyond tonight.

You wrap your arms around him and pull him close, careful to avoid the spot where your bodily fluids have drenched his jeans. “I’m in.” Your smile is blinding. “We have about nine weeks of Stats to make up.”

The brick is uncomfortable behind your back, but it’s hard to care when his lips feel so good. Broad shoulders shielding you from the hallway, trucker hat turned around and glasses in his pocket so there’s not an inch between your faces. Agreeing to meet outside before lecture was such a good idea.

Despite spending most of the time between Thursday night and Tuesday afternoon in Bob’s apartment trying every position in the book (with teasing hollers from his Pi Kapp roommates adding to the soundtrack) you can’t help but steal these five minutes. He looks so cute, to not kiss him would be a crime.

Bob squeezes your hips, lips trailing down your jaw. “What’s on your mind, cowgirl?”

“I’m trying very hard to convince myself that we pay a lot of money to attend this school and should go learn about statistics. Even though I really only want to head back to my dorm and see how sturdy that loft bed is.”

From where his nose traces your ear, a guttural whine leaves him. “You can’t say something like that and expect me to go to class.”

You pull back to look at him, fingers tickling the close cropped hair at his neck. God, he makes it so hard to want to be responsible.

“Let’s make a deal, okay? We’ll go to class, learn, and tonight you come over and for every study guide question you get right I’ll take off a piece of clothing. Sound good?” He’s practically panting as he smothers your mouth in another kiss. He’s really good at Stats. A steady stream of students files past Bob’s back, a sign that class is about to start.

You press another kiss to his lips. “Let’s go or we’ll miss out on seats. Plus I need to dig through my bag for a pencil.”

“Do you think you actually have one today?” He smirks, amused. The eighteen pencils he’s lent you say otherwise.

Your cheeks are hot under where he kisses them. “Uh…if I don’t can I borrow one? If you have one, that is.”

He lets out a soft chuckle and holds you closer, rubbing your noses softly.

“You do realize I’ve been buying pencils all semester just to give to you, right?”

Turning his cap around - insides fully melted - you know you’re in this rodeo for the long run.

Want more Frat Cowboy Bob? Hang out with Bob From Pi Kapp!

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[cheriladycl01]

My boyfriend the Bad Guy- Oscar Piastri x Teacher! Reader

Plot: Oscar surprises you in a class that you’re covering for on a day before a race weekend.

“Okay guys so Mrs Copani won’t be here for the rest of term, but that means I get to teach you guys all about … the rainforest!” You exclaim to the young children in your class. You were currently covering for a school in your district whose teacher went on maternity leave, it was your first job as a teacher rather than a teaching assistant because you were so young.

“Now, this project will be very fun! We’re going to do lots of arts and crafts and at the end of term Headmaster Kelvin has organised a trip” you tell them excitedly and they all start chatting!

“We’re going to a rainforest!” One of them exclaims.

“My mum says they’re a long way from us!” Another chips in.

“Are we going far for this trip?” Another asks a little confused.

“Okay okay settle down! Now you’ll learn that Chloe is right and that there aren’t any rainforests near us. The closest one would be Africa, and I can’t take you guys all the way there … but in the UK we have a place where they have these biome pods called the Eden Project so we’re going to take you there” you explain and they all nod.

“Okay so let’s start on some facts about the rainforest. Does anyone know anything about the rainforest that they can tell me!” You ask.

“It rains a lot!” Dylan shouts and you nod.

“That’s right! It’s helps that its in the name right? But rainforests have a lot of warm humid rain all year round. 79-394 inches. High for comparison is about the height of a tree!” You exclaim and gaze round seeing the fascinated look on all the kids faces.

That was your favourite part of teaching!

“And when you look at a rainforest … like this one” you say getting up a picture of one of the interactive whiteboard. “What do you see!” You ask looking around the classroom.

“Lots or Green” AJ shouts and everyone agrees.

“Mmmmm that’s very true. And what is all that greenery, some of you might have them in your garden at home! We have some in the gardens here and Miss Y/L/N has a few on her classroom windowsill” you offer helpfully, a girl raises her hand.

“Gabby?”

“Plants Miss!” She squeals and you nod with a smile on your face.

“Very good! Now the rainforest is very important as even though only 10% of earth is made up of rainforests … it has the most plants and animals there which helps us” you smile.

“Why miss?” Connor calls out and you smile.

“The trees around us, even the ones here release something out of them that go into our atmosphere and it turn it helps us breath. That’s why trees are so important and it’s why when we use paper, we always ….” You pause waiting for them to finish your common phrase.

“Recycle it” they all giggle and you nod.

“That’s right!” You smile at them all.

“Okay now when you all have a cold what does you mum and dad give you to make you feel all better?” You ask walking around the room.

“Matt” you say seeing the boys hand raised.

“Medicine!” He cries out in joy.

“Lots of those medicines come from the rainforest, that’s why it’s important we preserve it!” You teach them, you could never be to young to teach about protecting the planet.

“What’s preserve?” One of them asks with their head cocked to the side.

“Hmmmm that’s a difficult word to describe. Okay so let’s pretend you guys are … the Avengers” you grin and they all gasp happily.

“I wanna be Captain America”

“I’ll be Thor”

“I want to be Black Panther”

“I’m Kate Bishop”

“Okay okay you can all be whoever you want! But you guys need to protect the environment from all the bad people out there!” You grin, knowing this was all just a bit of fun but still educating them on what’s important.

“Who are the bad people” one of them asks, just before a knock is heard on the classroom door. You look to the left seeing Oscar there watching you with a soft smile on his face. You hop up from your desk walking over to the door.

“Here is one of the villains you have to defeat” you say as you open the door to your boyfriend.

“He’s a bad guy!” One of the girls ask, and you know you’ve just potentially started her obsession with always crushing on the villains in future movies and books she watch.

“But Miss that’s your boyfriend” they all giggle at this and you grin too, Oscar just standing there confused as to why you’re now all of a sudden calling him a bad guy.

“Mmmm and why am I a bad guy?” He asks looking at you with his polite cat smile.

“Who knows what Oscar does for a living, do any of you like Cars?” You ask and they all gasp.

“Miss miss I know I know!” Ollie cries out.

“Yeah?” You asked.

“He drives race cars!” He says on his knees rocking back and forth.

“He does! And he travels all over the world to do it, meaning he doesn’t help the environment, he does the opposite!” You say knowing just how astronomically high your boyfriends carbon footprint was.

The kids then all started to ask Oscar questions about racing, many of them being Lightening McQueen related.

Eventually it was the end of the school day, Oscar kindly helped you pack up the classroom before leading you out to the car park where his McLaren was parked.

“Thank you for coming to get me baby” you smile and he takes your hand guiding it to the gearstick so he can keep a hold of you while he’s there.

“You’re welcome! How was your first fall day teaching them on your own?” He smiles rubbing his thumb along your hand.

“It was really good, we’re starting a rainforest project and so we’re going to make loads of charts for the board I created and at the end of term we’ve got a trip organised!” You explain and he can’t help but grin at how excited you seem.

“Woah, that’s really cool! Do you still think that you’ll be able to come this weekend?” He asks knowing that where you taught Monday to Thursday you had the perfect opportunity to spend GP weekends with him.

“Of course I am baby, I have my flight booked for Thursday night, I’ll get there Friday Morning” you admit and he smiles bringing your hand up of the gearstick and in front of him mouth. He kisses it lightly.

“So where are we going, this isn’t the way home” you ask once you notice your on a different main road.

“Somewhere Lando showed me, I wanted to take you there. I think you’ll really like it” he explains and you nod.

Eventually you come up to a little park, he takes a rucksack from the boot, taking your hand and walking through the afternoon sun with you to the edge of a large pond, that had a wooden bridge going over the middle of it.

“Wow this is gorgeous” you exclaim looking at the surroundings before taking some pictures. You get one of yours and Oscars feet and then a selfie of you guys with the lake in the background.

“I love this, it’s so peaceful” you breathe out a relaxing breath. You and Oscar walk and talk, both having a busy schedule ment that moments like these you could yap to each others hearts content.

He eventually started to lay out a blanket, it was getting a little cooler as the sun got lower and lower in the spring afternoon.

“I brought some wine, and some cheese and grapes. I know you’ve been wanting to go out for a while with the girls but you haven’t had time… so I brought girls night too you” he smiles sheepishly hating how busy both your lives were individually and with each other. You saw your friends maybe once a month at best, you were very lucky they were so understanding.

“I love you Osc” you say leaning into him, kissing his cheek, a blush forming across his nose.

“I love you too baby” he smiles.

You both sit on the blanket leaning into one another while continuing your previous conversation, and sharing chaste kisses every now and then, tasting the rich one on each others lips.

Intimate and personal time like this with Oscar would always be your favourite.

y/user

Liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others

y/user: Oscar surprised me on my first day today and took me out afterwards on a date :) How sweet can he get!

View all comments

oscarpiastri: Love you ❤️

-> y/user: I love you more 🥺🌸❤️

ybff: omg you guys are so cute! Seeing you when?

-> y/user: soon for sure! After class coffee? Mrs Copani has gone for maternity leave so I’ll have this post for a while!

user: Billy raves about his new teacher in class today! Thank you for making it engaging!

-> user: I agree Madison came home with the biggest smile on her face today! Thank you Mrs Y/L/N

Instagram Story Caption:

First day on the job 🌸 Miss Y/L/N

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[alohajix]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲

Description: in the quiet town of Holmes Chapel, Amara—a gentle, nurturing kindergarten teacher—lives a life built on routine, safety, and quiet strength. She’s not looking for love, especially not after the scars left behind by someone she’d rather forget. But when Harry Styles walks into her classroom carrying his three-year-old daughter and a heart still grieving the loss of the woman he loved, everything changes. Neither of them is ready. Neither of them is looking. But sometimes, the people who change your life don’t knock first. They just… show up.

Warnings: this mini-series includes grief, past emotional abuse/manipulation, trauma recovery, single parenthood, and emotional vulnerability. Later chapters will contain explicit smut (clearly labeled).

Words count: TBK.

First part is here! Tell me what do you think in the comments💕

*****

PART ONE – Tiny Brave Things (Words: 12.4K)

AMARA

The kettle clicked off just as the sun began its slow rise behind the garden hedge, spilling pale gold through the kitchen window and casting a honeyed glow across the tile floor. I stood barefoot by the sink, hands wrapped around a mug that still steamed gently against my palms, and let the morning settle around me. The quiet was soft and familiar—no cars, no voices, just the faint hum of the fridge and the birds calling to each other through the hedgerow.

This was my favorite part of the day. Before the noise, before the paint-stained fingers and paper towel crises, before someone cried because someone else used the purple crayon first. Just the stillness of home. My own breath, steady and slow. The ceramic weight of the cup in my hands. The ache in my shoulders I hadn’t realized was there until the heat began to ease it.

I took a sip and leaned against the counter, watching the steam curl and vanish. My skin was still warm from the shower. I hadn’t bothered with the hairdryer—just towel-dried my hair and twisted it into a low bun. A few strands clung to my temples, already loosening in the morning humidity. I didn’t mind.

I glanced at the clock above the oven: 6:41 a.m. Early. Earlier than I needed to be up, but I’d stopped fighting it. My body knew what it needed. I gave up on sleeping in years ago—around the same time I realized I felt safest when I had a little extra time. A little extra quiet. A little extra space between me and whatever the day might bring. Some people woke up to alarms. I woke up to the weight in my chest shifting ever so slightly.

I finished my tea, rinsed the cup, and padded barefoot across the warm kitchen floor to my small dining table—the one I’d rescued from a vintage shop three years ago and painted myself on a rainy weekend. Pale blue, a little chipped at the corners now. I liked it better that way. I pulled out the chair closest to the window, sat down, and reached for my to-do list. Just seeing it calmed me. It was half crossed-out already, scrawled in neat loops across lined paper, right down to things like “pick up more lavender spray” and “replace dying peace lily in reading corner.” I didn’t mind the repetition. Some people found it exhausting. I found it grounding. The structure. The rhythm. The knowledge that every morning, twenty-three little faces would walk through my classroom door, dragging backpacks and half-zipped coats and stories about their cat’s birthday party or a new rainbow shirt.

And today—there’d be one more. Olive Styles. Age three. I hadn’t met her yet. Her father had registered her yesterday, just before the office closed, so I’d only heard the name in passing from Mrs. Keller, the school secretary.

“Sweet-sounding little thing,” she’d said. “He filled everything out perfectly. Very polite. Very…” She’d paused then, lowering her voice even though it was just the two of us. “Put-together.”

I’d smiled, distracted by a stack of coloring books I needed to sort, and hadn’t thought much more of it. At the time. But now, sitting alone in my kitchen with the day stretching ahead of me, I realized I was… curious. Which was ridiculous. Parents came and went. I met them at drop-off, at parent nights, at emergency “your child has a tooth in their pocket again” calls. I didn’t wonder about them. And yet—

I shook it off.

I stood, slipped into my flats, pulled my cardigan from its hook near the door, and took one last glance around the room—everything tidy, everything still. Then I stepped outside.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

Holmes Chapel was still half-asleep as I walked into town. The air was cool against my skin, and the streets shimmered faintly with dew. I took the long route, weaving past hedgerows and low stone walls, nodding to the dog walkers I saw every morning. The same faces. The same smiles.

That was the thing about this town—you couldn’t hide in it. Not really. People knew each other. Knew who’d married whom. Who’d left, who’d come back. And in my case, who’d once dated Logan Clark, and who now politely avoided the subject.

I passed Mrs. Whitmore’s house just as she stepped out in her robe and slippers, watering can in hand.

“Morning, love,” she called, not looking up.

“Morning. They’re looking lovely,” I said, nodding at her roses.

“They always bloom early when the weather’s soft,” she replied, and I smiled.

I turned down the high street, already waking up with the scent of fresh bread drifting from the bakery and the soft jingle of the florist unlocking her front door. The bell above the café rang as someone stepped out with a paper bag and a steaming cup. I walked past it all, my pace steady, familiar.

Ten minutes later, I pushed through the iron gate in front of the school and stepped into the quiet hallways of a place that had become more home than anything else. The fluorescent lights buzzed softly overhead as I made my way to my classroom. The moment I unlocked the door, I was hit with the faint scent of lavender spray and children’s markers. I breathed it in like oxygen.

This space—bright, safe, colorful—was where everything felt steady. The paper butterflies we’d made last week still hung from the ceiling, their wings swaying in the faint breeze from the open window. The reading corner cushions were fluffed. The whiteboard still had the words “You Are So Loved” written in big, bubbly letters.

I set down my bag, slipped off my cardigan, and turned on the fairy lights above the bookshelf. Then I got to work. Puzzles out. Name tags in place. Crayons sorted. Paint trays prepped. I moved with the rhythm of someone who’d done this a hundred times and still cared enough to make it feel new. I was adjusting a stack of books when I heard a familiar voice from the doorway.

“Well, well. Look who beat me in.”

I turned to see Mya, leaning against the doorframe, holding two takeaway cups and smiling like she knew something I didn’t.

“Miracles happen,” I said, walking over to take one of the cups. “No more running in at 7:59 like I’ve just escaped a burning building.”

“I don’t know, I kind of liked that look on you,” she said, stepping into the room. “A little wild-eyed. Kept the parents on their toes.”

“You’re terrible.”

“I’m honest.”

She sank into the beanbag in the corner and took a sip of her drink, eyes following me as I rearranged the art supply shelf.

“So,” she said casually. “Today’s the day, yeah?”

I glanced over. “The new student?”

“Olive Styles,” she said, as if she were testing the name out loud.

I nodded. “Starts today.”

Mya grinned. “That’s such a cute kid name. Sounds like someone who wears tiny boots and carries a leaf collection in her pocket.”

“I hope so.”

She gave me a look. “And the dad?”

I blinked. “What about him?”

Mya raised her eyebrows. “You tell me. The name Styles isn’t exactly forgettable.”

I shrugged, turning to face the shelf again. “Mrs. Keller said he filled out everything properly. Sounded polite.”

“That’s code for hot,” she said, sipping her coffee with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s code for ‘I didn’t ask.’”

“Sure. Sure it is.”

I tossed a crayon box at her gently. “Some of us are focused on the children, thank you.”

She laughed, catching it. “You’re such a mum already, it’s scary.”

“Maybe someday.” The words slipped out before I could catch them. I didn’t mean to sound wistful, but there was a silence after that. A breath.

Mya watched me for a beat too long. “You’d be a brilliant mum, you know.”

I smiled, quiet. “Thanks.”

She stood and handed me the empty cup. “Alright, I’ve got to go prep for my own little chaos tornado. But text me if anything interesting happens.”

“Define interesting.”

She grinned. “Tall, dark, and devastating.” And with that, she left.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

HARRY

Olive was already in bed with me when the alarm went off. I didn’t even hear the first buzz. Just felt her small hand tug at my T-shirt, the way she always did in the early hours. Her knees were curled into my side, bunny tucked between us, thumb grazing her bottom lip like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to suck it or not. She never cried out when she came into my room—just showed up, quiet, steady, like her body remembered something her mouth hadn’t quite learned how to say.

I blinked up at the ceiling, still hazy with sleep, then down at her soft curls resting against my chest. It was early. Still grey outside. Still the kind of hush that made you feel like the world hadn’t quite started yet. I liked that part. The stillness. The space between night and day. The part where no one needed anything from me yet. Except for her. I brushed a hand gently down her back, the fabric of her sleep shirt warm from sleep.

“Morning, bug,” I whispered. She didn’t answer, just snuggled closer. Today was her first day. The first day of something new. And it felt… big. Bigger than it should’ve.

It wasn’t just preschool. It was the first time I’d let someone else carry her weight for a few hours. The first time she’d sit in a room full of strangers and look around for a face that wasn’t mine.

I pressed a kiss to her hair. “Think we can be brave today?”

Her breath shuddered out across my chest. Just a tiny sound. She didn’t answer. I didn’t push. We stayed like that for a few more minutes, until the light outside turned a little less grey and a little more gold. Then I sat up slowly, pulling her into my lap.

“Toast and jam?” I asked. She nodded, eyes still heavy. “Milk in the bunny mug?”

She gave me a sleepy thumbs up. I carried her to the kitchen, setting her gently on one of the bar stools. She leaned against the counter with her head in her hands, bunny tucked under one arm, curls wild and matted in the back. I started the toast and turned on the kettle, letting the familiar motions quiet the nerves buzzing under my skin.

The house was still. Not empty—but quieter than it used to be. There were still traces of Becca everywhere. In the way the mugs didn’t match. In the pink apron hanging behind the pantry door. In the stack of kids’ books on the shelf near the fireplace. I hadn’t moved any of it. Couldn’t. Some days, it helped. Some days, it made me want to take a hammer to the walls.

Olive stayed quiet while I made breakfast. I knew she was nervous—could feel it in the way she picked at the hem of her sleeve, in the way she stared at her bunny like it might have answers she didn’t. I set her food down and leaned against the counter across from her.

“You remember we’re going to school today, right?” She nodded, eyes on her plate. “And remember, I’m not leaving until you’re ready.”

Her lips pressed together, like she was thinking hard. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“I know,” I said gently. “You don’t have to. I’ll be right outside for a little while. And then I’ll come pick you up after lunch, just like we said.”

She took a tiny bite of toast. “Will there be books?”

“Lots.”

“Glue?”

“Probably.”

She looked up. “The funny-smelling kind?”

I smiled. “The exact one.”

Her shoulders dropped slightly. “Okay.”

I walked over, crouching beside her stool so I was eye-level. “You’re gonna be okay, bug. Just try your best. That’s all.”

She leaned into me, small arms around my neck. “Will Miss be nice?”

I hoped so. “Yeah. I think she will.”

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

We were quiet on the drive. I kept the music soft—something acoustic and familiar—and glanced at her in the rearview mirror every few seconds. She was staring out the window, bunny still in her lap, curls pulled into two low pigtails that I’d clumsily tied myself. Becca used to braid them. Made them look easy. Olive never flinched when Becca did her hair. Now, she only let me do it if I promised to be gentle. And I always tried.

We pulled into the small car park beside the school, and I turned off the engine. Olive looked up at the building. Then back at me. Her bottom lip wobbled. Just once. I unbuckled my seatbelt and reached for her.

“You ready to be brave?” She shook her head. “That’s okay,” I said, lifting her carefully from the seat. “You can do it scared, too.”

I carried her toward the building, her arms looped tightly around my neck, bunny squished between us. The school was quiet from the outside, sunlight glinting off the windows, the iron gate just barely ajar. When we reached the door, I paused. She was breathing fast, her forehead pressed to my collarbone.

“Bug,” I whispered, “you’re safe.”

She didn’t let go. But she didn’t pull away either. I adjusted her in my arms, took a deep breath, and opened the door. And there she was.

She turned from the bookshelf when we walked in, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. The room glowed behind her—fairy lights strung above the shelves, sunlight pooling on the rug, soft music playing from a speaker I couldn’t see. It smelled like lavender and Play-Doh and something warm I couldn’t name.

She looked up at us and smiled. It wasn’t polite. It wasn’t practiced. It was soft. Real. Welcoming in a way I hadn’t expected.

“Hi,” she said, walking toward us. “You’re right on time.”

Her voice was gentle—like she was speaking to both of us at once. Not just Olive. Olive peeked at her from beneath my chin.

“I’m Miss Amara,” she said softly. “But you can call me Miss, if that feels easier.”

Olive didn’t answer, but she didn’t hide, either.

“She’s a bit shy,” I said, my voice lower now, unsure why. “And this is all new.”

“I understand,” Amara said. “She can take all the time she needs.”

I nodded, heart tugging as Olive pressed her face into my neck.

“She brought her favorite book,” I added, reaching into her little backpack and pulling out The Koala Who Could. “And her blanket’s in there, too. Just in case.”

She took the book gently from my hands, her eyes scanning the cover like she recognized it.

“Thank you,” she said. “This helps a lot.”

“She likes the part with the tree,” I said, then caught myself. “Sorry. I know you probably don’t need all that.”

“No,” she smiled. “It’s lovely. I like knowing what matters to her.” She knelt down a little, meeting Olive’s eye line. “I heard you’re very good at puzzles,” she said softly. “I saved a special one for you, if you want to see it.”

Olive didn’t move at first. Then, slowly—so slowly—she turned to look at me.

I nodded, brushing a curl behind her ear. “Want to try?”

She hesitated. Then let her arms fall away from my neck. I crouched down and set her gently on the floor, her bunny still tight in her hands.

“You can bring that,” Amara said. “We like bunnies here.”

Olive blinked at her. Just once. Then followed her toward a little round table covered in puzzle pieces. I stayed by the door, heart full of something I couldn’t name. Amara turned back, eyes meeting mine.

“She’ll be alright,” she said. I believed her.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

AMARA

Olive didn’t say much. But she didn’t cry either. And honestly? That was more than enough.

She sat at the little round table near the windows, gently pressing puzzle pieces into place like it was a task someone had assigned her and she was determined to get it right. I stayed near her for the first ten minutes. I didn’t hover—just tidied nearby, made soft commentary, occasionally pointed out a missing tail or paw. She didn’t respond with words, but every once in a while, she’d glance at me. Just to check I was still there.

Eventually, I drifted across the room to welcome the others. Kids tumbled in—some running, some sleepy, one in tears because her snack box had the wrong sticker on it. The usual chaos. The beautiful, joyful, sticky kind. And all the while, Olive watched. She didn’t join in. But she didn’t shrink away either. She sat with her bunny tucked between her knees and her shoulders squared like she was bracing for something.

About an hour in, I was helping two boys at the paint table when I felt her beside me. Quiet as anything. She held up a small piece of paper. It was her drawing. A tree. A tiny grey shape in the middle. A koala.

I crouched to her level and smiled. “That’s beautiful.”

She pointed to the koala. “Kevin.”

“From your book?” She nodded once. “He looks very brave in your drawing.” She didn’t say anything. But she smiled.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

At snack time, I let her sit beside me. Some of the kids liked crowding together in little clusters on the rug, but Olive stayed close. Not clinging—just nearby. Her bunny sat in her lap while she quietly munched on crackers and watched the others giggle about apples shaped like hearts.

One of the boys—Elliot—came over and plopped down beside her without warning. Olive stiffened.

“That’s mine,” he said, pointing at one of the puzzle blocks she’d brought over earlier.

I turned toward him gently. “She’s using the extra pieces from the bin, sweetheart. You’re okay.”

He frowned. “But I used the yellow one yesterday.”

“She didn’t take it,” I said softly. Olive stayed frozen. I crouched, placing a hand gently on her back. “It’s okay.” She looked at me—those big, searching eyes—and I swear, the tension in her shoulders melted just a little at my touch. I looked to Elliot. “How about you show Olive how you built your tower yesterday? Maybe you can do it together?”

He grumbled, but after a minute, he nodded and scooted closer. Olive glanced at me again, then sat up straighter. She placed the yellow block in front of him. And when he smiled at her, she whispered, “Okay.” It was barely audible. But it was there. And something in me shifted.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

The day flowed in soft, colorful waves. We did handprint art with washable paint. I read a story about a dragon who only ate marshmallows. Olive sat closest to the rug’s edge but turned her head toward me with each page. She never interrupted like the others did. Just listened, wide-eyed, taking it all in. She let another little girl braid one of her pigtails. She handed someone a red crayon without being asked. She laughed—once—when someone sneezed glitter by accident.

And for a few precious hours, I didn’t think about Logan. Until I heard my name at the door.

“Amara?” I looked up to see Mrs. Keller peeking in, holding a clipboard. “Phone message for you, love. Not urgent. Just… something to have.”

I stood, brushing paint from my hands, and met her at the door. She handed me the pink slip.

LOGAN, it read in thick, rushed letters.

Called to ask what time you finish today. Said he might stop by.

The breath caught in my throat before I could hide it.

Mrs. Keller’s eyes softened. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” I lied. Because what else was I supposed to say?

I tucked the note into the pocket of my cardigan and turned back to the classroom. Olive was watching me. Not with fear. Not with confusion. Just… watching. Like she knew what it looked like when someone got a call that changed the air around them.

I forced a smile. “Time to clean up, sweet pea. Want to help me with the paint lids?” She nodded. Didn’t let go of her bunny. But walked with me anyway.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

The clock on the classroom wall ticked closer to one. The sunlight had shifted across the room now, casting warm stripes on the floor where a few kids were finishing their snack. Most had gone home for the day—early pickups and half schedules. Olive was the last still waiting. But she didn’t seem worried.

She sat beside me at the low round table, her bunny perched carefully on the edge, as we sorted puzzle pieces back into their box. She was focused. Calm. And every once in a while, she’d glance at the door. Not anxiously—just waiting. It was only her first day, and somehow, she was already part of this place.

I felt a quiet kind of pride settle in my chest.

When the knock finally came, she didn’t flinch. Just turned her head and smiled before I even stood up. I walked to the door and opened it.

He was there. Harry Styles. His curls were slightly messier than this morning, like he’d run a hand through them too many times. He wore a grey jumper and jeans, his coat unzipped, his shoulders a little more relaxed than they’d been before. But his eyes? Still soft. Still searching.

“Hey,” he said, a little quieter than necessary. “She alright?”

“She’s better than alright,” I said, smiling as I stepped aside. “She’s been brilliant.”

He looked over my shoulder and saw her—tiny, bunny in hand, puzzle box now clutched to her chest. His shoulders dropped a little more. And for a second, something passed between us. Not a moment. Not yet. But a pause. Like he saw me now. Not just as her teacher. As something more.

Olive slid off the chair and padded over in her little pink trainers, curls bouncing softly.

“Daddy,” she said, not with desperation—just warmth.

He crouched and held out his arms, scooping her into a hug. “Hey, bug. You did it.”

She pulled back just enough to show him the puzzle box. “We found the fox.”

“You did?” he said, eyes wide like she’d just announced she’d climbed a mountain.

She nodded, then looked at me. “Miss helped.”

I smiled. “She did most of it herself.”

Harry stood, Olive still perched on one arm. He turned to me with something in his expression that wasn’t just gratitude.

“You’re very good with her,” he said.

“I try to be good with all of them,” I replied gently. “But she made it easy.”

He exhaled through his nose. “She doesn’t usually let go like that. Not since…” He trailed off, glancing down at her. I knew what he was going to say. He didn’t need to finish it.

“I’m glad she felt safe here,” I said.

He looked back at me, and for a second, the noise in the hallway faded. Everything stilled.

“ If she wants to come back tomorrow.” I smiled. “She’ll have her spot waiting.”

He nodded. “Same time?”

“Same time.”

We stood there for a second longer than we needed to. Then Olive tugged gently at his collar. “Can we get the bread with the holes?”

“The bagels?” he asked, already smiling. “Course we can.”

He glanced at me one last time. “Thanks again, Miss Amara.”

I liked the way he said it. Like it mattered. “You’re welcome,” I said. And I meant it.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

The classroom emptied slowly. I lingered, like I always did. Wiping down the tables. Tidying the reading corner. Restoring the classroom to the gentle stillness it always held before the day began again.

The sunlight had faded to a softer gold now, stretching long across the floors. I turned off the fairy lights and packed my things with the kind of slow rhythm that comes after a full, good day. I didn’t feel tired. Not the heavy kind. I felt full. Full of little moments. Olive’s soft voice. Her quiet nod. The way Harry had looked at her—and at me—like something new had settled between the three of us and none of us quite had the words for it yet.

I stepped out into the early evening air and started toward the square. I hadn’t planned to stop at the market, but my fridge at home was bare, and the day had left me craving something warm. Something soft. Maybe bread. Or jam. Or chocolate.

The cobblestone paths were glowing under the fading sun as I walked into the village center. The hanging baskets of spring flowers swayed gently in the breeze. A woman walked past with her daughter, holding hands and humming the same tune Olive had been singing under her breath at cleanup time.

The bell above the market door jingled as I stepped inside. It smelled like oranges and pinewood. I made my way to the produce aisle and reached for a basket of strawberries, still thinking about the way Olive had said Miss helped like it meant something deeper.

“Afternoon, Miss Amara.” I turned.

Mr. Beckett stood behind me in his usual green jumper, arms tucked behind his back like he always had something to say.

“Hi, Mr. Beckett,” I said, smiling.

He gave a knowing look. “Heard you’ve got a new one in class.”

I nodded. “Olive Styles.”

He tilted his head. “That’d be Harry’s girl, wouldn’t it? Up by the hill cottages?”

I hesitated. “Yes.”

“Sweet thing, that one. Saw them last week at the bakery. Didn’t say much, but the little girl had her eyes on the pain au chocolat like it held all the answers to the universe.”

I laughed softly. “Sounds like her.”

He leaned on his cane, his voice gentler now. “People talk, you know. Small town and all. Shame what happened to his girl.”

My throat tightened. “Yes.”

“I didn’t know her well,” he went on. “But she had a light to her. That kind of quiet kindness you don’t always see anymore.”

“She must’ve been special,” I said.

He looked at me for a long moment. “You’re one of the good ones, Amara. Always were. That little girl’s lucky to have you.”

“Thank you,” I said, the words catching slightly on their way out.

He smiled, tipped his cap, and moved toward the back of the shop. I stood still for a second, basket in my hand, surrounded by fruit and light and the soft hum of old music playing overhead.

I didn’t know what I was feeling. But it was something. Something warm. Something real.

I grabbed a loaf of bread, a jar of raspberry jam, and—without thinking—a bar of chocolate I didn’t need but wanted anyway.

When I stepped back outside, the sun had slipped behind the rooftops, and the sky was washed in pale pink and lavender. And even though the air had cooled, something lingered in my chest. Not warmth. Not yet. But the sense that maybe—just maybe—something had shifted. And when it did… I’d be ready.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

HARRY

Olive fell asleep before I finished the dishes. She was curled sideways on the couch in her unicorn pajamas, one hand tucked under her cheek and the other still wrapped around her bunny’s floppy ear. I didn’t move her right away. I just stood in the doorway, watching her chest rise and fall in that slow, even rhythm that only came when she was truly safe.

The house was dim now, lit only by the lamp in the corner and the glow of the kitchen light. There was music playing low on the speaker—something soft with strings—but I couldn’t hear it clearly over the noise in my head.

I’d done it. We’d done it. Day one.

She’d gone to school, let go of my hand, sat at a table beside strangers, and smiled at her teacher. She’d come home with purple marker smudged on her fingertips and told me about Kevin the koala like it was the most important story in the world.

And she’d said she wanted to go back. That part broke me a little. In a good way. I sat on the floor beside the couch, letting my hand rest gently on her foot. Just enough to feel her warmth. I thought about Becca. About how proud she would’ve been. How she’d probably cry and then pretend not to. How she’d make cupcakes for the whole class after week one and write me a to-do list I didn’t ask for.

I closed my eyes and let the ache come and go like it always did. Then I opened them again. And saw Olive’s sketchbook on the coffee table. I flipped it open slowly, expecting crayon scribbles. But there it was. A tree. A koala. And below it, written in crooked three-year-old letters, a name.

Miss.

And just like that, Amara’s face filled my mind again—her quiet voice, her steady gaze, the way she’d crouched beside Olive like she’d known exactly what to say and exactly when to say nothing at all. I didn’t know why she stayed with me like that. But she did. And something about it felt a little like the beginning of something I wasn’t sure I deserved.

⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻ ⸻

AMARA

I sat on the couch in my comfiest socks with a cup of tea cooling beside me and my feet tucked beneath a throw I’d had since university.

The house was quiet. Lavender-scented. Dim except for the reading lamp behind me. I should’ve been grading. Or planning. Or sleeping. But my thoughts kept circling back to her. To Olive. To the way she’d looked up at me after storytime with a crayon in one hand and her bunny tucked under the other.

And—maybe more than that—to him. To the softness in his voice when he said her name. To the look in his eyes when she reached for my hand. To the quiet that settled between us like something shared.

My phone buzzed with a text from Mya.

MYA: Sooo… how was the dad?

I smiled, shaking my head and picked up the phone—only to see another notification above hers. One I didn’t open.

LOGAN: Still pretending I don’t exist? You know I can always find you.

I locked the screen. Pushed the chill back down. Then opened Mya’s message instead.

AMARA: Polite. Thoughtful. The kind of guy who remembers which page in the koala book his daughter loves most.

MYA: Oh no. You like him.

AMARA: I don’t know him.

MYA: Yet.

I put the phone down and leaned my head back against the cushion. The warmth from the tea drifted into the air, sweet and steady. And somewhere beneath the comfort of the night and the quiet hum of my house, I felt it again. That shift. That pull. That soft, slow opening. Something new. Something gentle. Something I didn’t have a name for yet.

But maybe— Maybe when I’m ready, I’ll let it in.

[glamorizethechaos]

No Tears Left to Cry | Charlie Reid x Widow Reader

Warnings: I don’t even watch Chicago PD I just have daddy issues and need Shawn Hatosy so bad. I know they offed him in the finale so it’s just based of the 60 second clip I saw. Age gap (again my daddy issues) but it’s not mentioned. Reader is in early 30s, Charlie is late 40s early 50s. Gun violence, Charlie dies, widow, vomiting, infertility, needles, thoughts of suicide, pregnancy. This isn’t a pro police story.

Not beta read. Bound to be typos. I wrote this so quickly.

Word count: 1.3k

You stood in the kitchen finishing up dinner. There were butterflies in your stomach as you waited for Charlie to come home. It was all a surprise. You spent the day making his favorite meal, you wore his favorite dress, you did your hair and actually put on some makeup. On the bed lay new skimpy lingerie that you couldn’t wait for him to rip off your body. The oven beeped and out came chocolate chip cookies made with brown butter, it was a labor of love but you couldn’t wait for him to try them. You checked the clock which read 5:45. Charlie was late, but it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for his job.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. When you opened it, you saw two uniformed men standing on the porch. As they removed their hats your knees buckled. They didn’t have to tell you. You knew. Charlie was gone.

You collapsed onto the porch, dry heaving as your stomach revolted against you. How could this be happening? How could he be gone? How could he do this to you? How could he leave you alone? Then the screams. As they tried to console you, help you up off the ground, you began to scream. Blood curdling, earth shattering, gun wrenching screams.

“Wake up!” You screamed to yourself. “Wake up!” It was a dream. It had to be a dream.

“Mrs. Reid…” an officer spoke as his partner went into your house to fetch a glass of water. “Would you like us to take you to see him? He’s at the… he’s at the morgue.”

You nodded and they helped you to the patrol car. You felt like you were going to vomit again, rolling the window down to curb your nausea. As you arrived at the medical examiners office, you jumped out of the car to wretch into the closest trash can. You tried to compose yourself as you walk down the long sterile hallway towards the morgue. When they opened the door you were hit with a blast of air. It was so cold. The floor was cement and the walls were an awful shade of green. They opened the chamber with an awful crash. You shut your eyes. You couldn’t see them pull him out. It would make it real, all too real. When you opened them your chest crumbled. A sob caught in your throat. Your stomach lurched. There he was. Charlie. Your Charlie. Body covered with a white sheet. Sticky dried blood covering his grey curls. The same curls you loved to rake your fingers through when you’d make love. The curls you’d play with as he laid his head in your lap while watching TV. The curls you nearly cried over when he shaved them off for charity. Without hesitation you touched him, hand immediately recoiling. He was so cold.

“Hi baby,” you choked. Your hands instinctively running through his curls again. “You’re so cold…”

Despite the dried blood on his neck and head, he looked so peaceful. Like he was going to wake up at any moment and give you morning kiss. The morning kiss he wouldn’t leave the house without.

“I made your favorite dinner tonight… wore the dress you love… had a big surprise planned. I’m pregnant baby… finally.” You kissed his hand.

“All the hormone shots you gave me because I was too scared. The hot flashes I’d get from that stupid fucking Clomid. The mood swings. The tears. All the times I wanted to give up… negative test after negative test. You always pulled me through, and now I’m pregnant and you’re gone… you’re fucking… come on wake up Charlie” you begin to shake his stiff body.

“Charlie get up. WAKE UP! Please… come on baby…come on please open your eyes for me. You can’t be gone. YOU CANT!” your voice going between screams to tearful whispers. Begging. Pleading.

You don’t know how long you stayed, it could have been minutes or hours, but soon the sobs wracked your whole body. Your screams echoed throughout the mortuary. It took three people to remove you from the room. You held onto him, refusing to let him go. You kicked and screamed as they pulled you away from your husband. This couldn’t be the last time you saw him. It couldn’t be.

When you came home to your empty home you sunk to the floor. The dinner still on the table. The cookies taunting you from the counter. You trashed it all. Slamming it. Breaking the plates, smashing his favorite cup, what did it matter? He was gone now. You looked down at your bloody hands and went to clean them up in the bathroom. His razor still on the sink. He never cleaned up that morning after he shaved. You hated when he left his hair in the sink. Pieces of him were scattered around the house, yet he was gone.

When you walked into your bedroom you saw the lingerie. Instead of throwing it away, you put it on. Staring at yourself in the mirror. At your body that would soon change with each passing month. During a pregnancy you would endure alone. You crawled into bed, grabbing his pillow. It still smelled like him. The stain on the pillow case from his drool. You opened your mouth to sob but nothing came. You had nothing left. No tears left to cry. You had run dry.

You thought about ending it right there. You know where he kept his guns. You know the combination to the safe. But your baby. You were carrying the last piece of Charlie you had left. Apart of him was still with you.

You didn’t remember the funeral. Just that it was long, you didn’t know half the people who paid you their sympathy, and you felt sick. Was it the pregnancy, the fact your husband was dead, or both? The bagpipes played their somber tune, and they carried your husband down the church aisle in a casket that was draped with an American flag. You weren’t even sure this is what Charlie would have wanted. You never discussed it.

When you went to your first pregnancy scan alone, and you cried the entire drive to the hospital. You two wanted nothing more than to start a family, but the two of you struggled. Month after month of trying soon turned into 2 years. You were diagnosed with unexplained infertility, and while you gave up, Charlie didn’t. He went to all of your appointments, picked up your fertility treatments, helped administer your hormones.

***

“Charlie that’s huge, I can’t do it! I’m scared.” You looked at the long syringe.

“Alright, do you want it in your stomach or your thigh?”

“What will hurt less?”

“I don’t know baby, I’ve never exactly done this before. I guess the stomach?”

“Well neither have I!”

“I can always do it here…” he suggested, giving your butt a squeeze, smirking into the back of your neck. Suddenly you felt a pinch.

“Ow! Did you just give me the needle in my ass?” You saw him throwing it away in the sharps container the fertility clinic sent you home with. “You did! Charlie what the fuck?”

“You’d have danced around it for hours if I let you. Had to distract somehow and get it over with.”

***

“I see two sacs and two babies with two strong heart beats. Congratulations Mrs. Reid you’re having twins.”

“Twins?”

“What do you think your husband is gonna say?”

That stopped you. You didn’t want to hurt her feelings, but didn’t want to bury yours.

“He’d- he’ll be ecstatic…” you whispered.

8 months later you delivered two healthy babies via Caesarian.

Charles ‘Charlie’ David Reid Jr.

& Mackenzie Jane “MJ” Reid

After being discharged from the hospital, with a tender scar and two babies in tow, you made the journey to the cemetery to let them meet their dad.

[biblical-chronicles]

New arrival

________________________________________

where the newly moved-in reader makes Noel start leaving his room for once.

Pt.1 | Pt.2

________________________________________

The first time you met Peggy, it had been by pure chance. You were at the local grocer’s, struggling to calculate the best way to stretch what little cash you had. You’d been eyeing a dented tin of soup when she approached, friendly as anything, and started chatting. By the time you’d finished checking out, she’d not only figured out you were new in town but also offered a spare room in her house on the condition that you help out around the place and chip in a little for rent.

You’d nearly cried on the spot. It wasn’t easy being in a new city, broke, and trying to get your footing. Her kindness was a lifeline you hadn’t expected but desperately needed. So, a few days later, with your single suitcase in tow, you arrived at the Gallagher household.

Peggy opened the door before you could even knock properly, a smile already on her face. “Oh, there you are, love! Come in, come in—don’t stand out there like a lost lamb.”

You stepped inside, immediately hit with the comforting smell of home cooking and the faint scent of cigarettes lingering somewhere in the background. Peggy took your suitcase before you could protest, leading you through the narrow hallway.

“Right, so this is the front room,” she said, gesturing to a space crowded with mismatched furniture and stacks of magazines. “And that’s the kitchen through there—help yourself to a brew whenever you like. The loo’s upstairs, and your room’s just down here.”

She led you to a small room at the back of the house. It was cramped, with a worn-out couch shoved against one wall and a pile of boxes stacked in the corner, but it was clean and cozy enough.

“It’s not much, I know,” Peggy said, wringing her hands. “We’ve just never had much use for this room—bit of a dumping ground, really. But you’ll make it your own, eh?”

“It’s perfect,” you assured her, dropping your bag on the couch. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Gallagher. I don’t know what I’d have done without you.”

“Oh, none of that now,” she said, waving a hand. “It’s Peggy to you, love. And you’re family now, alright? Just pull your weight and we’ll get on fine.”

You smiled, genuinely touched by her warmth. Peggy gave you a quick rundown of the house rules—nothing too strict—and left you to settle in.

Later, as you were unpacking, a knock came at the door. You turned to see a man about your age leaning against the frame, a cheeky grin on his face.

“Alright, love? I’m Liam,” he said, arms crossed over his chest. “Mum said we’ve got a new lodger. Proper fit one too, by the looks of it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Is that how you greet everyone?”

“Nah, just the special ones,” he shot back, winking. “So, what’s your story then?”

You spent the next few minutes chatting, his sharp tongue making you laugh easily.

Eventually, Peggy’s voice rang out from the kitchen. “Liam, stop pestering her! She’s had a long day!”

“She loves it, Mum!” Liam called back, making you laugh again. “See? She’s smilin’.”

Peggy appeared in the doorway a moment later, hands on her hips. “Don’t mind him, love. He’s harmless—just got a big gob on him.”

“Oi!” Liam protested, feigning offense.

Peggy rolled her eyes before turning back to you. “There’s another one knocking about somewhere, Noel. He’s upstairs with his guitar, like always. You’ll probably see him at tea time, if he bothers to come down.”

Liam snorted, shaking his head. “Yeah, don’t get your hopes up, love. He’s all bent for that bloody guitar. Doesn’t care about owt else. I reckon he humps it when no one's lookin'.”

“Liam!” Peggy scolded, smacking him lightly on the arm.

“What? Just sayin’,” he said, grinning at you.

You laughed, leaning against the doorframe. “Sounds fun.”

“Oh, you’ve no idea,” Peggy muttered, giving Liam a look. “Now, go on, you. Leave her be.”

Liam winked at you as he turned to go. “Don’t let her fool you, love—she’s scarier than me when she’s in a mood.”

With that, he disappeared down the hallway, leaving you laughing and shaking your head.

Peggy sighed, but there was a fondness in her expression. “He’s a good lad, really. Just likes to push his luck. Now, let me finish up tea, and you can meet Noel hopefully.”

You nodded, already feeling more at home than you had in weeks.

When Noel finally made his appearance at the table, it was almost as if a shadow had swept into the room. His blue eyes flicked over you briefly, taking you in with a glance that felt both assessing and uninterested at the same time.

“Noel,” Peggy said, her tone sharp but affectionate. “This is our new lodger. Be nice.”

“Alright.” Noel muttered, sitting down at the table without much fanfare. He grabbed a plate and started serving himself, not sparing you another look.

“Nice to meet you.” you offered, trying not to let his cold demeanor throw you off.

“Yeah, you too.” he replied, his tone flat but polite enough.

Liam snorted, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. “Don’t mind him, love. This is probably the first time he has spoken to a bird in weeks.”

Noel shot Liam a glare. “Shut it, knobhead.”

Peggy sighed. “That’s enough, the both of you.”

As the meal went on, Noel stayed mostly quiet, occasionally chiming in when Peggy or Liam addressed him directly. He didn’t seem rude, just… guarded, like he wasn’t quite sure what to make of you yet.

When the plates were nearly cleared, Noel stood abruptly, picking up his plate to take it to the kitchen. “I’ll be in me room.” he muttered, already heading for the door.

Liam rolled his eyes, leaning toward you with a grin. “Off to wank over his guitar, no doubt.”

You chuckled softly but, before you knew it, the words were slipping out of your mouth. “I mean, I get it. It’s nice to have summat you’re that passionate about, especially when that thing is music.”

Noel froze mid-step, turning to look at you properly for the first time all evening. His eyes narrowed slightly, not in a suspicious way, but more like he was trying to figure you out. “You play or summat?”

“Yeah,” you said, shrugging. “Been in a few bands back home, nowt serious. Just for fun.”

Liam laughed, shaking his head. “Careful, love. He’s gonna adopt you now.”

But Noel wasn’t listening to Liam anymore. His focus was entirely on you. “You any good?”

You smirked, leaning back in your chair. “I’ll let you be the judge of that.”

For the first time all evening, a small, genuine smile tugged at the corner of Noel’s mouth. “Alright. Come on, then.”

You followed him upstairs to his room, leaving Liam and Peggy exchanging amused glances at the table.

Noel’s room was cramped, with an unmade bed shoved into one corner and clothes scattered everywhere. He picked his guitar up—a well-worn acoustic that looked like it had seen better days—and handed it to you without a word.

You sat down on the edge of the bed, testing the strings and adjusting the tuning slightly before strumming a few chords. Noel watched you intently, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable.

After a minute, you started playing a song you knew by heart, your fingers moving effortlessly over the strings. As you played, you glanced up at him, half-expecting him to look unimpressed, but his face had softened.

“Not bad,” he said when you finished, his tone casual but with a hint of something warmer underneath. “Got a good ear.”

“Thanks,” you said, handing the guitar back to him. “Your turn.”

He smirked, taking the guitar and sitting down next to you. He played a few riffs, his fingers moving over the fretboard with a precision and ease that made your jaw drop a little.

“Alright, show-off.” you teased, nudging him lightly.

He laughed—a quiet, almost shy sound that took you by surprise. “Can’t help it, can I? Spent half me life with this thing.”

The two of you spent the next hour trading songs and chatting. At first, Noel was reserved, keeping his answers short and to the point. But as time went on, he started to relax, his dry humor shining through as he told you stories and inquired more about you.

By the end of the night, he was sitting closer to you than he had been before, his knee brushing against yours as he handed you the guitar again.

“You’ve got somethin’,” he said, his voice softer now. “Dunno what it is, but… yeah. I reckon you’ll fit in here just fine.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his words. For all his initial standoffishness, there was something incredibly endearing about Noel when he let his guard down. And little did you know that this little interaction had him sold entirely.

Days turned into weeks, and Noel's obsession with you only deepened. It started small, little things that seemed almost sweet—offering to make you a brew, or conveniently showing up wherever you were in the house, even if it meant abandoning his guitar mid-strum. But as time went on, his behavior became almost laughably obvious to everyone except, apparently, you.

The first hint of jealousy cropped up one evening when Liam was sprawled on the couch next to you, the pair of you laughing at something on the telly. You had your legs tucked under you, leaning into Liam slightly as you pointed at the screen and whispered something that had him laughing so loud Peggy poked her head in to shush him.

Noel walked into the room just in time to see Liam sling an arm casually over the back of the couch, his hand dangerously close to your shoulder. The sight made Noel’s jaw tighten.

“You two havin’ a laugh?” he asked, his tone sharp enough to cut through the cozy atmosphere.

Liam turned his head lazily, smirking. “Alright, Noel? We were just watchin’ this show. Dead funny. You’d love it if you could tear yourself away from yer room.”

Noel ignored him, his eyes flicking to you. “You good?”

You smiled up at him, oblivious to the tension radiating off of him. “Yeah, this show’s brilliant. Want to join?”

Noel shook his head. “Nah, I’ll leave you to it.” he muttered, but the way he glared at Liam as he left the room spoke volumes.

From then on, Noel made a point to position himself as close to you as possible at all times. If Liam sat next to you on the couch, Noel would plop himself down on your other side, his knee brushing yours as he leaned over to "grab a closer look" at whatever you were doing. If you laughed at something Liam said, Noel would immediately chime in with something wittier, his eyes flicking to you for your reaction.

The closeness between you and Noel also began to shift in the physical realm. The first time he hugged you, it was after you’d come home from running errands, your arms full of shopping bags. He’d taken the bags from you, muttering something about how you shouldn’t be carrying all that on your own, and when you thanked him, he surprised you by pulling you into a quick, one-armed hug.

“Don’t mention it.” he said gruffly, but the way he lingered just a second too long told you otherwise.

From then on, the hugs became more frequent, and longer. One rainy afternoon, you were sitting on the couch, feeling a bit low. Noel wandered in and immediately noticed your mood.

“You alright, love?” he asked, sitting next to you and nudging your knee with his.

“Yeah, just one of those days.” you said with a shrug.

Without a word, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. You rested your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“You’re alright now, yeah?” he murmured, his hand rubbing small circles on your arm.

In that moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world, and neither of you seemed in any hurry to pull away.

Even Peggy noticed the shift. One morning, as you and Noel were sitting at the kitchen table, your chairs pulled a little closer than necessary, she just walked in and raised an eyebrow.

“Well, don’t you two look cozy.” she said, a sly smile tugging at her lips.

You laughed it off, but Noel’s ears turned red as he busied himself with his tea.

And then there were the little gestures. Noel, who had never cared much for shopping, suddenly became incredibly interested in it—specifically, in buying things for you.

One afternoon, you mentioned in passing that you missed a certain brand of chocolate from your hometown. Two days later, Noel showed up with a bag full of it, muttering something about how he just “happened to see it at the shop.”

Liam, of course, didn’t miss the opportunity. “Look at him, eh? He’s oh so conveniently found a stack of her favourite sweets.”

Noel shot him a glare but didn’t bother denying it. If anything, he seemed almost proud of it.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon by the time you returned from running errands. Kicking off your shoes by the door, you carried the groceries into the kitchen, pausing at the faint trace of cologne in the air.

“Evenin’.” you called out as you began unpacking the bag.

“Evenin’, love,” Liam replied, leaning against the living room doorway with his signature smirk. “You’ve just missed the show—our Noel’s been struttin’ about like he’s headlining Wembley.”

Curious, you poked your head into the living room and immediately saw what Liam was on about. Noel was standing by a chair, looking… different. His usual sweater had been swapped for a neatly pressed, blue button-up shirt, his hair styled so it actually framed his face, not sticking out in every direction like usual.

You tilted your head, a smile tugging at your lips. “What’s the occasion?” you asked, your tone light. “Are you goin' town? I thought we were supposed to watch the telly together.”

Noel froze at your words, his gaze darting between you and Liam. “What? No. Yeah—I mean, no. We’re watchin’ the telly. Together. Of course.”

Liam started laughing so hard he had to brace himself against the doorway. “Christ,” he wheezed. “Did you hear that? Smooth as sandpaper, he is. Mate, you’ve been rehearsin’ this all day!”

“Shut it.” Noel snapped, though the pink rising in his cheeks betrayed him.

But Liam wasn’t done. “You even did your hair!” he pointed out, gesturing dramatically toward Noel. “All this for a night sat on your arse. Swear down, he’s gone from humpin’ his guitar to wantin’ to hump the poor bird.”

“Liam!” Peggy’s sharp voice cut through the room as she entered from the hallway, giving her younger son a solid smack on the arm. “Mind your bloody mouth!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the scene, your cheeks warming at Liam’s antics. But as Noel stood there, his usual confidence clearly knocked a peg or two, you knew you had to reassure him.

“Oh, don’t be so mean,” you said, stepping closer to Noel and giving Liam a pointed look. Then you turned your attention to Noel, your voice softening. “He’s just jealous. Look at you—you look great.”

Noel blinked, caught completely off-guard.

You smiled, gesturing to his shirt. “Blue suits you. It really brings out your eyes. And the hair—” you reached up without thinking, brushing a strand off his forehead— “yeah, just frames your face dead nice.”

Liam let out a mock gasp, clutching his chest like he’d been wounded. “Bloody hell, you’re feedin’ his ego now? He looks ridiculous.”

“Better than feeding yours,” you shot back, your grin turning playful. “When was the last time you wore something that didn’t look like it came out of a bin bag?”

Liam’s jaw dropped, and he searched for a comeback, but Peggy cut him off with a sharp look. “That’s enough, Liam,” she said, though her lips twitched with amusement. “Go and set the table if you’ve got so much energy to spare.”

Grumbling under his breath, Liam walked off toward the kitchen, leaving you and Noel standing alone.

For a moment, the room was quiet, and you turned back to Noel, who still looked a little stunned. “Sorry if that embarrassed you,” you said, lowering your voice. “I just… wanted you to know you look really nice tonight.”

Noel cleared his throat, finally finding his voice. “Nah, you’re alright,” he muttered, though his tone was softer than usual. His lips quirked into a small, almost shy smile. “Thanks. For that. You didn’t have to…”

“Of course I did,” you replied, shrugging as you gestured toward the couch. “Come on, then. You didn’t get all dressed up just to stand there, did you?”

Noel followed you to the couch without a word, but the faint flush on his cheeks lingered.

The two of you quickly settled side by side in your own little bubble of comfort. The nonsense on the screen barely registered as you both sat there, only half-paying attention. It had become a bit of a routine, watching random shows, making occasional comments, and slipping into silence when the need for words wasn’t there.

You shifted slightly, making yourself more comfortable. Your body brushed against his, and you felt the warmth radiating from him. His legs were stretched out in front of him, and you mirrored the position, just close enough that your knees nearly touched.

Ten minutes passed, the silence stretching between you both, yet it wasn’t uncomfortable. You couldn’t help but notice the way Noel sat there, his arm resting against the back of the couch. A small, part of you wanted him to pull you closer, just a little—just enough for your shoulders to brush or for his arm to casually drape across your shoulders. You had no reason to think that he would. He hadn’t done anything like that yet, but the thought of it swirled in your mind, a quiet longing that seemed to grow the longer you sat there.

You couldn’t help but feel that flutter of nervous excitement. You wanted to be closer, wanted him to reach out to you without it feeling like a game anymore.

You sighed quietly, trying not to let your thoughts get too far ahead of you. It was silly, really, this want. But a small part of you couldn’t deny the warmth in your chest at the idea of him holding you. Not just sitting next to you. Not just being close, but touching you in a way that felt more... more real.

And maybe Noel could feel the shift too, because after a long moment, you noticed him turn just slightly towards you, his arm brushing against yours. It wasn’t much—just a simple movement, a shift of his body, but the connection was there.

For a few more minutes, nothing changed, and you almost started to think that maybe it was just wishful thinking on your part. But then, Noel’s hand moved. He shifted closer, just a fraction, and you didn’t pull away. Your leg brushed against his, his fingers lightly grazed the back of your hand. It wasn’t a gesture that screamed boldness. It was subtle, casual, but the touch made your heart race.

You let out a small breath, realizing just how much you had wanted that connection. And without thinking too much about it, you leaned just a little into him, pressing the side of your shoulder against his arm.

The moment you did, Noel didn’t pull back. Instead, his hand slowly moved to your shoulder, his fingers making the briefest contact before resting there. His touch was light, but it was enough to send a rush of warmth through your body. You glanced up at him, and he caught your eye for a second before quickly looking away, his fingers still resting on your shoulder.

Neither of you said anything, the touch just lingered a little longer than necessary, and you had the sense that Noel, for the first time, was letting it happen, letting that closeness build without pulling away or hiding behind his usual defenses.

You moved your head slightly, resting it against his shoulder, just to test how he might respond. His breath caught, and for a second, you thought he might stiffen or push you away. But instead, he shifted, subtly adjusting himself until he was sitting closer to you, and you were a little more tucked into his side.

The quiet game was starting, but neither of you acknowledged it. It wasn’t a decision made consciously, just two people testing the waters, inch by inch, seeing how far they could go without tipping the balance.

You let your body relax into him, slowly, and before long, you felt his hand shift again. This time, it slid from your shoulder to your waist. It was a small gesture, but it was enough to make your pulse quicken.

You couldn’t really pinpoint the exact moment, but before you knew it, you were fully pressed against him. His arm had slid fully around your shoulders now, and your legs were tangled together on the couch. The small space between you had disappeared, leaving you both in a sort of cocoon, limbs entangled as you sat there, side by side, your body against his.

You realized that your head had shifted from his shoulder to rest against his chest, and his hand, still on your waist, had moved to hold your side as he settled further into the couch. Your leg was tucked between his, and you were pretty much half in his lap, your bodies fully intertwined.

It wasn’t awkward, though. It felt right. And before you could second-guess it, you both melted into the moment.

The show was still on in the background, but neither of you were paying attention. Your focus was on each other now—on the way your bodies fit together, the way your hearts were pounding in the silence that surrounded you.

But before you could even process how close you had become, Liam’s voice interrupted.

“Oi, what’s this, then?” he said, standing at the door with his arms crossed, clearly amused by the sight of you two tangled up on the couch. “You two look like a bloody pair of lovebirds.”

Noel tensed immediately, his hand almost going stiff where it rested on your waist, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he gave Liam a lazy glance, still keeping you close.

“Piss off, Liam.” Noel muttered, but it lacked any real heat. His voice was soft, almost protective, like he didn’t want anyone messing with this moment.

You, embarrassed but still laughing, tried to shift away just a little, but Noel’s hand tightened on your waist, keeping you exactly where you were.

“Jesus, Noel. You’ve got her all curled up like a cat.” Liam snickered, but after a moment, he sighed and turned to leave, muttering something about you two getting all soppy.

Once Liam was gone, you glanced back up at Noel. He seemed almost unsure, his eyes flicking to you with a mix of confusion and something else—something you couldn’t quite name yet. You weren’t sure if he was second-guessing the way things had unfolded, but when you shifted in his arms to get more comfortable, you didn’t hesitate. You slipped right back into his embrace, practically shimming your way in once again.

He froze for a second, caught off guard, but when he looked down at you, he didn’t pull away. His arm automatically slid around you once more. “Aren’t you gettin’ a bit too comfy now?” he asked, his voice a little shaky, but he tried to make it sound casual.

You looked up at him, your lips curving into a teasing smile. “Oh yeah, I’ve got the best seat in the house.” you said, a little playfulness in your voice. You felt the familiar warmth spreading through your chest as his arm tightened around you.

You both settled back, the closeness no longer feeling so new. There was something more natural about it now, as though you had finally crossed the line into something deeper.

And when you both laughed at something stupid on screen, you looked up at him. No words were needed. The kiss came easily, both of you giving into it without hesitation.

As it deepened, the urgency became undeniable. His lips pressed harder against yours, and you could feel the way his body moved closer.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging at the strands, feeling his chest against yours as the kiss grew more desperate. You felt his fingers brush down your back, pulling you into him, his body responding just as eagerly as yours.

His lips trailed down your jaw and then to your neck, a soft breath escaping his lips as he kissed along the curve of your skin. You tilted your head, giving him more room, the feeling of his lips against your neck made you shiver, your pulse racing with the intimacy of it all.

When he pulled back, his hands still resting on your back, his eyes quickly found yours. There was a flicker of hesitation, of something unspoken.

You felt the same tension in the air, and for once, you both knew exactly what it was. You’d been dancing around it for weeks, the subtle touches, the stolen glances, the moments when neither of you could pretend anymore.

Noel swallowed, his voice low, almost hesitant, but there was something raw in it that you could feel in your chest. "I—" he started, then stopped, running a hand through his hair as if trying to gather his thoughts. “I don’t know if I’ve ever… been this sure about anything. About you.” His voice was thick with emotion, his eyes flicking down to your lips and then back to your eyes.

You held his gaze, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You don’t have to say it if you don’t want to.” you murmured, your fingers gently brushing along his jaw.

“No,” he said quickly, his hand gripping your wrist gently but firmly, pulling it back to his chest. “I need to say it. Because I’m bloody terrified of this, yeah, but… I need you to know. I… I think I’m in love with you.”

The words hung in the air for a while, and you felt your heart skip a beat as he looked at you with a vulnerable expression.

Your breath caught in your throat, and you couldn’t help the smile that broke across your face. The ache in your chest had been there all along, but hearing him finally say it out loud made everything feel right. You leaned in and kissed him softly, just a press of lips, to reassure him that you felt the same.

When you pulled back, you smiled, your hand still resting on his chest, your fingers brushing his shirt. “I think I’ve been in love with you for a while, too.” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

A relieved laugh escaped him, and he leaned his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “About bloody time, eh?”

You giggled, and your lips found his again, kissing him more deeply this time. You felt his hands sliding to your back, pulling you closer, and your legs shifted, making you slip into his lap with a soft gasp.

His lips moved to your neck, leaving hot, wet kisses that sent shivers down your spine. You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in his hair, and he groaned, his lips brushing over your pulse point before kissing along the curve of your neck.

You shifted again, your body pressing against his in a way that felt so right, so perfect. Your lips were swollen now, yet neither of you cared, not when you were so lost in the way it felt to be so close to each other. His hands moved back up to your neck, and you gasped when his lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear, kissing it lightly before nibbling gently.

You could feel him smile against your skin, and you laughed softly. When you pulled away for a moment, breathless, you looked at him and whispered, “So, are we official now?”

Noel smirked, his hands still on your waist, and for a second, you both just looked at each other, grinning like idiots. “I’d say so,” he said, his voice low, full of a playful confidence you hadn’t heard before. “But just so you know, you’re stuck with me now. Don’t think you can get rid of me that easy.”

You laughed, kissing him again, your fingers trailing over his chest. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” you murmured against his lips, before diving back into the kiss, both of you losing yourselves in the moment, unable to stop.

________________________________________

cute cute cute xxx

loved the request, I love domestic stuff like that. Hope all you lot will like it as well !!

also, love Noel being labelled as Liam in the gif (swear down I don't know how people confuse them, they look dead different? similar features ofc but come on)

Pt. 2 here x

[m4rv3l-girl]

Hi - Part 2

Warnings: lots of fluff. Some kisses..? 🤭

Y/N stood outside the small Italian restaurant, one hand gripping her purse strap a little too tightly, the other resting on Leo’s shoulder. He was squinting up at the lights in the window, a stuffed dinosaur clutched in his arms, and she could already hear his stomach grumbling.

“Do you think he’ll be mad?” She thought.

Leo blinked up at you. “Is Mr. Bucky still coming?”

“Yeah,” you smiled, though your heart twisted a little. “He’s… He’s coming.”

The truth was, she didn’t want to cancel. After all this time, after the slow, shy messages that turned warm and steady. After the phone calls that started awkward and ended with her laughing so hard she nearly cried. Bucky had asked her to dinner, and she’d been ready -until the sitter cancelled last-minute.

She texted Bucky, apologizing and saying she’d understand if he wanted to reschedule. But instead of brushing it off, he’d replied: Bring him. I'd love to see him again.

Her chest had swelled with emotion when she read it. And now, standing outside, nerves fluttered again.

Inside the restaurant, warm golden lighting made everything feel soft and intimate. She spotted Bucky right away, back corner booth, dark henley shirt stretched across his shoulders, fingers drumming nervously against his water glass. He looked up, caught her eye - and stood immediately.

“There they are,” he said, grinning wide.

Leo hesitated behind her leg for a short moment, until Bucky crouched a little and held out his flesh hand, like they were just two old friends meeting up again.

“Hey, pal,” Bucky said. “I missed you.”

Leo lit up like a firework, running toward him without hesitation. “I brought Dino!”

“That’s awesome,” Bucky laughed, sweeping him up in a one-armed hug before setting him gently down in the seat beside him. “Hope you’re hungry. I already asked if they had chicken nuggets for superheroes.”

Y/N stepped closer, heart in her throat, not quite sure what she expected, but certainly not this. Not the ease in which Bucky greeted her son. Not the way he looked up at her with warm eyes and said, “You okay, sweetheart?”

She nodded slowly, slipping into the booth across from them, watching as Bucky pulled an extra chair over so Leo could sit comfortably beside him. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Dinner was… easy.

Leo told him all about his dinosaur collection, the Lego tower he built last week, and his big plans to be a superhero, an astronaut and a “dinosaur doctor,” depending on the day. Bucky listened intently, nodding along like every word was gold. Y/N caught him smiling at her more than once - especially when Leo got sauce on his nose and Bucky gently wiped it off like he'd done it a thousand times before.

When the waitress came by to ask about dessert, Bucky raised his hand before Y/N could even brush it off. “Two bowls of vanilla with chocolate chips, please. And whatever Mom wants.”

She blinked. “Bucky, you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he said gently. “I missed you both.”

Her heart squeezed, and she reached across the table, fingertips brushing against his. His hand turned to hold hers, calloused and warm.

“Bucky!” Leo interrupted, bouncing in his seat. “Can you come to our house and see my Lego collection? It’s so big! Bigger than a T-Rex!”

Y/N’s eyes widened, her grip on the menu tightening. She hadn’t prepared for this. But she watched as Bucky’s eyes lit up, his smile genuine. “I’d love to, buddy. Maybe after dessert, we could swing by, just for a little bit, if it’s okay with your mom?”

Leo’s grin was so wide it could have split the earth in two. “Yes! Mommy, can we?”

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to keep the surprise from her voice. Her mind racing back to the state her home was in currently… “Well, it is getting late, and you have school tomorrow, but if Mr. Bucky doesn’t mind a messy house, sure. Just for a bit.”

Bucky’s eyes never left hers as he nodded. “I don’t mind messes, not at all. Besides, I can help clean up, if you want.”

The kindness in his voice made her want to melt into the plush seat. She’d never had a partner who was so eager to be a part of Leo’s life. Some of the men she’d dated had looked at Leo as a burden, an inconvenience. Baggage. But not Bucky. He treated Leo as if he were the most important person in the world.

The dessert arrived, and Bucky made a show of sharing bites of his ice cream with Leo, making exaggerated yummy sounds that had the boy giggling. Y/N couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this at ease in public with someone other than Leo. Bucky’s presence was like a warm blanket she hadn’t realized she’d been missing.

As they stepped outside into the cool night air, Leo’s hand reached up and nudged Bucky’s. He was just testing the waters…seeing what would happen.

Bucky looked over, meeting Y/N’s gaze for permission, and then took Leo’s small hand in his. The gesture was so simple, so unassuming, yet it felt monumental to Y/N. “You okay, kiddo?” he asked, and the affection in his voice made something inside her crack open a little wider.

“Yup, I’m just really happy, Bucky.” Leo beamed, swinging their joined hands.

The walk to her apartment was short, but it felt like a mile as the gravity of the moment settled over them. Bucky talked to Leo about his favorite superheroes, the conversation a gentle reminder of how much he’d integrated himself into her world. His questions about Leo’s life weren’t probing but genuinely curious, and she felt a warmth spread through her chest that had nothing to do with the caffeine from her espresso.

When they reached the apartment building, she took a deep breath. "So, the apartment is a bit.. chaotic."

Bucky just chuckled. "I've seen worse," he assured her. "Remember, I've lived through two world wars and fought aliens. I can handle a few Legos."

The apartment was indeed a whirlwind of toys and art projects, but it was a lived-in warmth that greeted them rather than chaos. Bucky stepped in, eyes scanning the room before landing on a particularly impressive Lego structure. "Wow, Leo, this is like a castle for ants!"

Leo looked up from where he was rummaging through a bin, his cheeks red from the cold. "It's for my mini figures!"

Y/N felt a blush creep up her neck at the clutter. "He's got quite the imagination," she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Bucky crouched down to examine the castle closer. "It's incredible," he said, looking up at Leo with admiration. "You're a real architect, pal."

Leo beamed with pride, and Y/N felt a lump form in her throat. This was what she had hoped for, someone who could see the joy in her son’s creativity instead of just the mess it sometimes created.

“What’s an arpichect?”

Y/N looked up from the kitchen where she was putting the kettle on for tea. Leo’s question echoed through the hallway, a mix of curiosity and wonder. She watched as Bucky’s eyebrows shot up and he chuckled. “Architect, buddy. It means you design and make buildings.”

Leo nodded, his eyes wide. “Oh! Like Tony Stark!”

“Exactly like Tony Stark,” Bucky said, ruffling his hair. “But instead of iron suits, you build Lego cities. Which is much cooler.”

Leo’s eyes lit up even more, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. She hadn’t seen him this excited to show off his toys in a long time. As they moved into the living room, she saw the pile of laundry she hadn’t had time to fold and the books scattered on the floor. The place wasn’t a disaster, but it certainly wasn’t showroom ready.

“Buck, I’m sorry about the..mess,” she said, gesturing to the pile.

He waved a dismissive hand. “Life is messy, doll.”

They sat on the floor, the three of them, while Bucky listened to Leo’s elaborate narratives about the battles his mini figures faced every day in their Lego fortress. He nodded along, asking questions about the characters and the rules of their world, his genuine interest lighting up the room. Y/N found herself relaxing into the couch cushions.

“Okay, Honey, time to say goodnight to Bucky. It’s bedtime.” She picked Leo up into her arms. She turned to Bucky. “Do you, uh..mind waiting here for a minute while I put him down..?”

“Of course not,” Bucky said, his smile not wavering. “I’ll just keep an eye on the fortress, make sure the aliens don’t attack while the king is asleep.” Leo giggled, snuggling into his mother’s neck. “You’re the best, Bucky!”

Once Leo was tucked in, his eyes drooping with exhaustion from the excitement of the evening, Y/N stepped out of the bedroom and leaned against the doorframe, watching Bucky picking up stray Legos and placing them back into their respective containers. He glanced up at her, a question in his eyes.

“‘Thank you…” She hummed.

Bucky looked over his shoulder, his smile never fading. “For what?”

“For making him feel so special, for making me feel… seen. For not being bothered by the mess or the bedtime routines. For just being you,” she said, her voice thick with unshed emotion.

Bucky paused, his metal hand hovering over a half-constructed Lego spaceship. He turned to look at her, his eyes softening. “You and Leo, you’re special. Nothing to thank me for, I just want to be here for both of you.”

Her heart skipped a beat. In the quiet of the dimly lit hallway, she felt something she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Gratitude, yes, but also something deeper, something that whispered of hope.

"You know," she began, "I wasn’t sure how this would go. I mean, dinner with a kiddo and all."

Bucky shrugged, his movements deliberate and gentle as he put the last of the Legos away. "I’ve had worse dinner dates," he quipped, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

Y/N rolled her eyes, a laugh bubbling from her chest. "You’re not so bad at this wooing thing, Bucky.”

He looked up, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “It’s all just playing to the audience, doll,” he said, gesturing to the now organized Lego city.

The two of them sat in the quiet living room, the only sound the faint hum of the refrigerator in the background. She studied him as he leaned against the couch, his legs sprawled out in front of him. There was something about his ease in her space, his willingness to engage with Leo that made her feel like she’d known him forever.

“So, tell me about your day,” he said, changing the subject. “What’s new in the life of a superhero mom?”

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at his teasing. “Well, it’s been full of snacks and cartoons, mostly.” She sat down next to him on the floor, her legs folding under her. “But nothing compared to fighting bad guys, I’m sure,” she added with a playful nudge.

Bucky chuckled, setting aside the last of the Legos. “You’d be surprised. Some parenting battles seem just as fierce, just with more spit-ups and bedtime stories.”

They shared a quiet moment, the weight of the world outside their door seemingly forgotten as they talked about the mundane and magical parts of her day. Bucky’s curiosity about her life was refreshing, and she found herself opening up more than she had with anyone in a long time. As the conversation flowed, she realized how much she enjoyed his company, not just because of the joy he brought to Leo, but because of the comfort he brought to her.

“You know, Bucky, I never thought I’d be here, doing this. Being a mom, I mean,” she said, her voice soft. “I always thought I’d have someone to share it with.”

He turned to her, his gaze earnest. “You’re doing an amazing job, Y/N. And Leo’s a lucky kid to have you. But maybe, you weren’t meant to do it alone.”

Her eyes searched his, looking for any hint of pity or condescension, but all she found was sincerity. She took a deep breath, letting the words wash over her like a gentle wave. It was the kind of thing people said all the time, but from Bucky, it felt like a declaration.

The silence grew, and she knew she had to respond, to tell him that she appreciated his words, but she was afraid of what admitting her feelings would mean. Before she could speak, Bucky leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "I know it’s not easy, raising a kid on your own. But you're not alone, not anymore." His hand reached out and took hers, the warmth from his touch seeping through the cold metal of his prosthetic.

Her heart thudded in her chest, and she swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. "Bucky, I don’t know what to say."

He squeezed her hand gently. "You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to know that I’m here for you. For both of you." For the first time in a long time, Bucky felt like had purpose, had a life had..people.

Y/N felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, and she blinked them back, not wanting to ruin the moment. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her voice. "Bucky, I…I don't know if I can do this."

He leaned closer, his grip on her hand tightening. "Do what, doll?"

"This," she whispered, gesturing between them. "Letting someone in, letting them love me and Leo. It's…it's been a long time since I've let anyone get this close."

Bucky nodded. "I understand," he said softly. "But I…I’m feeling things for you that I’ve never felt before. And Leo..I..he’s awesome.”

The words hung in the air, a declaration that seemed to fill the small room with warmth and promise. Y/N looked down at their joined hands, his metal thumb rubbing soothing circles on her knuckles. She felt the weight of his gaze, the quiet understanding in his eyes.

“I’m not saying it’s going to be perfect, but I want to try. For you, for him. For us, if…if you’ll have me,” he added, his voice barely audible.

Y/N took a shaky breath, feeling the gravity of the moment. This was the first time in years that she’d allowed someone to get this close to her and Leo. But with Bucky, it felt different. It felt right.

“I want that too,” she said, finally meetinghis gaze. “But I’m scared, Bucky. What if I mess it up?”

He reached over and placed a comforting hand on her knee. “We’ll figure it out together, sweetheart. I’ve got your back, no matter what.”

The sincerity in his eyes was like a beacon in the dark, guiding her through her fear. She leaned into his touch, feeling the warmth spread through her, melting the ice that had formed around her heart.

“Okay,” she murmured, taking another deep breath. “Let’s take it one day at a time. For Leo.”

Bucky nodded, his expression serious. “For Leo, and for us, if that’s what you want.”

The conversation lulled for a moment, the air thick with the promise of what might be. Y/N took a sip of her now lukewarm tea, the comforting warmth seeping into her chest. She watched as Bucky’s eyes searched hers, looking for any sign that she’d changed her mind.

“I want that,” she said, her voice a little stronger this time. “But I need you to be patient with us. Leo’s been through a lot, and I…I don’t want to rush into anything that might confuse or hurt him.”

Bucky’s thumb stroked her knuckles again, the gentle touch reassuring. “I understand. I’ve had a bit of experience with that myself.” His smile was sad, but it didn’t take away from the warmth in his eyes. “We’ll move at whatever pace you want to, Doll.”

The silence between them grew again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was like they were both standing at the edge of something big, something life-changing, and they were just taking a moment to appreciate the view before taking the leap.

Y/N leaned in, her heart racing as she placed her free hand on Bucky’s cheek. His skin was cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the heat of his hand. She studied the lines of his face, the way his eyes crinkled when he talked about her son, the gentle curve of his mouth when he talked about the future.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and she kissed him. It was soft and tentative at first, a question and an answer all in one.

Bucky’s hand slid around the back of her neck, his touch firm but gentle, guiding her closer. He kissed her back, his lips moving against hers with a kind of tender desperation that made her toes curl. It was a promise and a plea, a declaration that he’d be here, that he wouldn’t leave. When they parted, she felt a little dizzy, the world tilting on its axis.

“I won’t rush you, Y/N. I’ll be here, as much or as little as you need me to be,” he murmured, his eyes searching hers. “But I’ve waited a long time for this, for you and Leo. And I’m not going anywhere.”

A small smile played on her lips, her heart fluttering in her chest. “Good to know,” she whispered, leaning her forehead against his.

They sat there for a few moments, just breathing together, their hands still intertwined. Then she pulled back, her gaze flicking towards the clock on the wall. It was later than she realized, the hands pointing almost accusingly at the time they’d lost in the warm cocoon of their conversation.

“I should probably get to bed, too,” she said, her voice a little shaky. “It’s been a big day for all of us.”

Bucky nodded, reluctantly letting her hand go. He stood up and offered her a hand to help her up from the floor. As they walked to the door, she couldn’t help but feel a little lightheaded. The night had taken a turn she hadn’t expected, but she wasn’t sure if she was ready for what might come next.

When she turned the lock, he stepped closer, his eyes searching hers one last time before he leaned in and kissed her cheek, a soft brush of warmth that made her eyelids flutter closed for a brief moment. "Thank you for tonight," he whispered.

"Thank you," she murmured back, the words feeling inadequate for what he had brought into her world. The warmth of his body lingered even after he’d stepped away, leaving a space she hadn’t noticed before. She watched him go, his form shrinking into the night until he was just a memory.

As the door clicked shut, she leaned against it, her breathing a little too fast. A massive smile painted on her face.

——————————————————————————————————

We’re just giving Bucky a fresh start and ignoring any spelling mistakes 😌

[mimorobo]

I’m curious, what are some other games/pieces of media you like besides from undertale (and its fangames and mods)

Oh, ohhoho, haha!!

Deltaru-

Ok I'll be serious... there's quite a lot of stuff I'm into really, so get ready!!

Minecraft - LIKE WHO ISN'T??? I've got mixed feelings about the upcoming movie... I love music discs!!

Pokémon - I'm not TOO into it, like card collector catch em all type, I just played Heart Gold and thought it was neat! My fav Pokémon is Chikorita (specifically the second evolution) cuz it was my starter Pokémon, his name was Chip and we were best buddies and we were going to rule the world together!!

In regard to games I'm also getting into Omori and Outer Wilds!! Haven't finished either yet! I also really like Darkside Detective, Kingdom 2 Crowns and Starbound!! (All very different not so well known pixelated games!!)

Ninjago - I LOVE Ninjago!!! The movie is AWESOME, the series is AWESOME!! I don't really like the new stuff now, the first seasons were definitely the best!

HTTYD - I love dragons!! And these films are awesome!!! (Number 1 will always be special tho) And have you SEEN THE LIVE ACTED TEASER??? THE DRAGONS LOOK SO COOL-

Star Wars - Specifically Clone Wars and THE MANDALORIAN!! Such awesome series!! IG-11 is the COOLEST ROBOT EVER!!

Gravity Falls - recently watched it and loved it. And yes, of course I cried at the end!!

The Amazing Digital Circus - I mean... Everyone's into it! I think it's cool!!

Animation vs Minecraft - I LOVE THOSE STICK MEN SO MUCH!!! The whole series, everything it's so amazing!!! The animation, the story, the music too :'D

And last but DEFINITELY not least:

STOP MOTION!!!

Absolutely anything to do with stop motion I'm not kidding. Walice and Gromit?? MY BOIS!!! Aardman I love you, and every film you've made!!! That not so recent Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio?? ABSOLUTELY AMAZING!!! IT'S BEAUTIFUL!!! KUBO!??!! NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS??!? FANTASTIC MR FOX!!? THE MISSING LINK!!? SHAUN THE SHEEP, MY CHILDHOOD!!!! It's all so SO GOOD!!! I get so hyped seeing stop motion, I love it so much!! I've watched TONS of LEGO stop motion on YouTube, mostly Minecraft related, and the LEGO sans fight THE PEAKEST OF PEAKDOM I HOPE TO GET TO THAT LEVEL OF AWESOMENESS ONE DAY!!! GO WATCH ITS INSANE!!!

Ahem, ok....uh... Hopefully that wasn't too much, I really REALLY like stop motion.... if you've made it this far then.... Uh... Thanks!!

🍪 - for you!

[lulublack90]

First Time Meeting the Parents Part 2

As requested by @just-m-0-n-1-k-4 here is the second part of Prompt 3 - First Time Meeting the Parents. I hope you enjoy it. Lulu xx

The cottage was exactly what Sirius had imagined it: cosy, a little overcrowded with bits and bobs, the smell of fresh bread and a wood fire. Hope ushered him into the kitchen and onto a scrubbed wooden chair at the matching table. He could really see himself living here. 

“Tell me all about yourself, Sirius,” Hope gushed as she busied herself with the kettle and plucking dainty buns from an old quality street tin before setting them on a chipped white plate. 

“Not much to tell, Mrs Lupin, I’m sure your story would be far more interesting than mine,” Sirius told her as he accepted one of the buns. 

“He doesn’t like talking about his family and stuff, Mum,” Remus told her, pressing a kiss into her hair as he leant around her and snagged four of the buns for himself. 

“Remus Lupin, stop being a greedy guts, and save some for your boyfriend!” Hope chastised Remus. Sirius watched them with a well of emotion bubbling up inside him. This was what he’d wanted from a mother. Instead, he’d ended up with Walburga Black, a strict, child-abusing monster who lived to torment her children. 

“Sorry, Mum,” Remus apologised, using the distraction to grab another bun and shove it into his mouth. 

“You little terror,” Hope cried with a laugh on her lips as she chased Remus around the table with a wooden spoon. 

“Ahem,” The levity instantly left the merry kitchen as Remus’s father, Lyall Lupin, made his entrance. This feeling was more familiar to Sirius, and he felt himself sitting up straighter in the stern man's presence. 

“Hey, Da,” Remus grinned, nipping past Hope and avoiding her spoon as he went to hug his father. Lyall’s lined expression transformed into a loving smile as he opened his arms to his son. 

“Stop staying away so long,” he grumbled into Remus’s ear. Sirius noticed that he and Remus were the same height, an odd occurrence as Remus usually towered over anyone they met. 

“Sorry, Dad.” Remus apologised, his hand sneaking back across the table to try and grab another bun. 

Remus managed to snag one, but before he could get it into his mouth, Lyall had it and popped it into his own mouth whole. “Hey!” Remus complained but Lyall raised an eyebrow. 

“That tin was full five minutes ago. It doesn’t look like your guest has even had a bite, and half of the buns are gone.” Remus snickered and gave his father one last squeeze before letting him go and moving to Sirius’s side. 

“Da, this is Sirius,” he introduced Sirius proudly. Sirius immediately got to his feet and stuck out his hand. 

“Mr Lupin, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he held his breath while he waited for Lyall to respond. 

Lyall’s face clouded, but he took Sirius’s hand and gave it a firm shake. 

“Tea, dear?” Hope asked, breaking the uncomfortable silence. 

“Please,” Lyall said, letting go of Sirius’s hand. 

Remus and Hope put together the tea. Hope had to keep herding Remus away from what was left of the buns as they set everything up and went to sit in the living room with Lyall. 

The conversation was a bit stilted at first, but as soon as Remus told Lyall that Sirius was a history nerd, he and Lyall had more than enough to talk about. 

Hours later and multiple cups of tea, Remus was finally able to drag Sirius away from his father. 

“We have to get back. James and Lily are making us dinner,” Remus told his parents. Hope’s eyes were very watery as she hugged them both goodbye and pushed another tin of cakes into Remus’s hands.

His first meeting with Remus’s parents had gone far better than he ever could have imagined. He was already planning what gifts he could bring them both the next time they visited. They were just passing the front of the cottage on the way to the gate when Lyall’s voice drifted towards them through the open living room window.  

“His hair is too long, but I like him. Better than the last one, at least,” Sirius’s smile broke his face in two it was so wide. He couldn’t wait to come back. Remus grabbed him and pressed a kiss to his lips before they continued on home.   

[mintsbubbletea]

𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐚 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐨 - 𝐄𝐮𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐜 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

Word Count: 2,500

Contains: She/her pronouns, digesting weed, sex, fingering, cursing, crying, p-in-v, unprotected sex, dunno if I miss anything

Proof read and Edited

A/N: also these are some of the experience I have when I was high so please enjoy lmao

Denki glanced at you with a curious expression as you both stood at the entrance of his dorm. "Y/n, are you really sure about giving this a shot?" he asked, a teasing smile playing on his lips. Your nervousness was evident as you anxiously bit your lip. "I've never seen you do something like this before, so I just want to make sure," he teased with a smirk

You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt and replied softly, "Yes, I'm sure." The uncertainty in your voice was palpable.

"Alright then," Denki said, using his head to gesture towards the inside of his dorm. He closed the door behind you as you stepped in. You found yourself sitting on his bed while he rummaged through his drawer. He turned back to face you and said, "Instead of smoking, I'll give you edibles. Since you've never tried it before, I don't want you to cough or anything. Also if we smoke Mr. Aizawa will find out cause of the smell” He chuckled and pulled out a pink candy bag.

You eyed the bag with curiosity and asked, "Are edibles better than smoking?" Denki made his way towards you and replied, "It really depends on the person. Sero prefers smoking, but I enjoy both methods.”

You nodded, attentively listening to Denki's explanation. He took out a gummy and handed it to you, saying, "Try this one. It's the mildest I have, only 10mg." The gummy was pink and shaped like a peach. You held it in your hand, examining it closely. Denki sat down next to you and popped one in his mouth.

After a moment of hesitation, you followed suit and put the gummy in your mouth. You chewed it and swallowed, cringing slightly at the aftertaste. "Yeah, the weed flavor kind of overpowers everything, sorry about that," Denki chuckled.

Curiosity got the better of Denki as he asked, "Does Sero know that you came to me?" You hesitated for a moment before replying, "Yeah, he does." It was a lie, though. Sero had promised to try it with you, but he always seemed to brush off the idea whenever you brought it up. You just wanted to give it a try, so you turned to Denki instead.

You and Denki were chatting in his room for an hour before Mina and Eijiro unexpectedly walked in to find you both laughing. "What's so funny?" Mina inquired, closing the door and removing her shoes. "Y/n wanted to try weed," Denki shared, stifling his laughter.

"Is this her first time?" Eijiro questioned, settling on the floor in front of you. Denki confirmed, and you blushed slightly from the earlier laughter. "I don't feel anything," you shrugged. Denki chuckled, shaking his head. "No, it's already hitting her. I'm not feeling it yet," he remarked as you gazed at the floor. Mina couldn't help but giggle at how you transitioned from talking to staring off. "Oh, I can see that."

"We brought snacks, perfect timing, right?" Eijiro mentioned, taking out some chips from his bag and tossing them around. You turned to Denki, who had white cheddar popcorn. "I want some," you reached out. He grinned, opening the bag and offering you some popcorn. "Do you want some?" he asked, and you nodded. He chuckled, handing you the bag, and you started munching, giggling softly.

One moment you were laughing and giggling, and the next, you were in tears. "Why would you say that?" you questioned Denki, while Mina hugged you as you cried. "I didn't say anything wrong," Denki defended himself, unsure of why you were crying. "I just mentioned that Gojo isn't that hot," he explained, causing you to cry even harder into Mina's embrace. Mina scolded Denki to be quiet before comforting you. "Don't cry, Y/n, Gojo is very attractive," she reassured, trying to cheer you up.

You lifted your head and glanced at Mina. "Right?" you sniffled, wiping away your tears with your hoodie sleeve. "Just look at him," you said, pulling out your phone and showing everyone your Gojo wallpaper. "But don't tell Sero he's my lockscreen," you added, putting a finger to your lips. "I change it when I'm with him." You let out a soft giggle. "Oh, don't worry, babes. He won't find out."

"Ugh, Mina, you're the best. I don't deserve you as a friend," you said, grabbing her face and giving her a gentle peck on the lips, causing her to blush. "Thank you?" she replied nervously.

"Oh, Sero's on his way with Bakubro," Eijiro announced as his phone beeped. You snapped your head towards him and shook it. "No, Sero can't find out I'm high," you said. "Huh? But you said he knew you came to me," Denki chimed in. You shook your head. "I'm terrible! I lied," you pouted. "He kept dismissing me whenever I mentioned it. He said I couldn't handle it, and I wanted to prove him wrong," you explained.

"He's going to kill us, Y/n! Mostly me," Denki groaned softly as you teared up, the effects of the weed making you even more emotional. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," you sniffled as tears streamed down your face. "No, no, don't cry, Y/n. He's almost here," Denki tried to comfort you, attempting to wipe away your tears, but they kept flowing as you cried harder. "Damn it."

"You're only making it worse, Denki," Eijiro scolded as he watched Denki's futile attempts to stop your tears. But everything fell silent when the door opened and Sero and Bakugo walked in. You turned your head away, making sure Sero couldn't see your face. "Why the hell is everyone so quiet?" Bakugo demanded as he took a seat nearby. Sero looked around, noticing your turned-away face and the nervous expression on Denki's face.

You let out a soft sniffle, and immediately Sero rushed over to you. "Hey, what's wrong, mi cielo?" he asked gently, cupping your face and noticing your puffy eyes. You tried to stay quiet, trembling lips and all. He looked into your eyes and saw how red they were, not just from crying. "Is she fucking high?" he asked, his jaw clenching. Everyone fell silent.

Bakugo scoffed. "Probably Denki gave her something. Mostly you and him smoke out of all of us," he said with a smirk, clearly hoping to provoke Sero into yelling at Denki. "Shut up, man!" Denki snapped at Bakugo, before feeling someone's intense gaze on him. "Denki," Sero warned. Denki was about to speak, but you cut him off. "I asked him to. I wanted to try it out," you sniffled again, and Sero sighed as he looked at you. "I'm sorry, Hanta," you said softly. "Don't apologize, Y/n," he reassured you, releasing your face.

"Let's just go, okay?" Sero gently took your hand and helped you up, leading you towards the door. "It's not her fault, man," Denki spoke up. "We'll talk tomorrow," Sero said, guiding you out. "Bye bye," you pouted, waving to your friends.

Sero led you to his room and closed the door behind you. You looked at him, wondering if he was mad. "Are you mad?" you asked hesitantly. He shook his head and looked at you. "No, mi cielo, I'm not," he said softly, taking off his shoes and lying down on his bed. "Come here," he patted the space next to him. Rubbing your eyes, you climbed onto the bed and snuggled up to his side. "Are you sure? You're acting different," you sniffled, resting your head on his chest while he ran his fingers through your hair. "I'm just upset in general, not at you, okay?" he reassured you, but his voice hinted at something more than just general upset.

You glanced up at him, questioning, "Was it because I went to Denki and not you?" observing his reaction. "Yeah," he murmured, causing your flushed face to pale. "Hanta-" Sitting up, tears welling in your eyes, you found yourself overwhelmed with emotion once more. "I'm so sorry," you apologized, tears streaming down your face. Sero couldn't help but chuckle at your tears. "Oh Y/n, please don't cry," he comforted, drawing you close and planting gentle kisses on your tear-stained face. "The only reason I brushed off your high talk was because I knew you'd react like this. You're such a lightweight, mi cielo. Just like the last time you got drunk, two cups and you were tipsy," he chuckled, as you listened, wiping your tears.

"Just come to me next time, and definitely don't go to Denki, okay?" he chuckled. "Okay," you sniffled, tears dampening his shirt. "I'm sorry," you mumbled once more. "Ya no mas," he said, cupping your face and silencing you with a kiss. After a few more minutes of cuddling, you found yourself pressing soft kisses to his neck, moving up for better access. Sero let out a soft hum, closing his eyes as his hand trailed down to the small of your back.

Feeling you slowly climb on top of him, your hips straddling his, your lips still on his neck, he placed his hands on your hips before asking, "What are you up to?"

"Making it up to you," you murmured, tracing your lips along his jaw. "Plus, I'm kinda horny," you giggled, barely touching his lips with a playful peck.

He looked up at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Really, huh?"he asked, a playful smirk curling his lips. "I can help with that," he chuckled, capturing your lips in a kiss. His hand reached up, gently cupping your face, pulling you closer, if that was even possible.

He flipped you over with ease, your body landing softly on his bed. He settled between your legs, your hands tangling in his hair, pulling gently as his free hand effortlessly slid your shorts down, leaving your lower half exposed. His hand found its way to your aching pussy his fingers pressing softly against your clit before pulling away from the kiss.

"We barely started, and you're soaking wet," he chuckled, his fingers circling your clit, earning a soft whine from you. "I'm telling you, its the weed," you giggled, your legs opening wider, craving to be filled. "Guess we should take some more often, huh?" he smiled down at you, reconnecting his lips with yours.

He continued to lavish attention on your aching pussy, his fingers deftly exploring your pleasure points with expertise, sliding two of his long fingers into your soaking cunt. He began to pump them in and out at a steady rhythm, creating lewd sounds of wetness that filled the room. In response, you gripped his forearm tightly, your back arching off the bed as you moaned and cursed, trying to reach for his lips even as your overwhelmed senses forced you to break the kiss. Your head fell into the pillow beneath you, and seeing this as a sign of your impending climax, he curled his fingers upwards, easily finding and stimulating the spot that could swiftly bring you to ecstasy. "Hanta" You squeaked out softly from the new sensation, a low chuckle left his lips feeling your reaction.

"That's a new sound, mi cielo",he murmurs, leaning in to press a kiss to your jawline and sprinkling soft kisses along your ear. The rhythm of his fingers continues, finding your sweet spot over and over, causing you to moan once again as your hips rock, seeking more with each passing moment. You are so close to reaching your climax with his fingers.

"Do you want more?" he asks, already familiar with the intricacies of your body and your needs.

He withdraws from your ear and gazes down at you. You eagerly. "Yes" Your brows are furrowed, your lips slightly parted, allowing soft whimpers to escape. His eyes take in the sight, and he swears that your expression only amplifies his affection for you. He is the one who reduces you to a moaning, whimpering mess, and he is the one who brings tears to your eyes from the sheer pleasure. He smiles before pressing a tender kiss to your lips.

"Okay,"he replies, his voice husky with desire.

He withdraws his fingers from your cunt, and they glisten with your juices. A small whine escapes your lips at the loss of contact. He undoes his pants, pulling them down enough for his hardened cock to spring free. With a firm grip on his shaft, he positions himself and pushes inside your wet pussy, feeling the tip slide in through the slickness before pressing deeper and deeper. You tighten around him, eliciting a soft grunt from him as he fully seats himself inside you.

The intimacy of the moment was palpable, a quiet gasp escaping your lips as you felt him enter you. A wave of warmth flooded your body, a sensation that was both exhilarating and comforting. You reached up, pulling him closer for another kiss, your lips meeting in a passionate embrace. " love you," you whispered against his lips, your voice a soft murmur against his skin. He responded with an equally tender kiss, deepening the connection between you. 

His movements were slow and deliberate at first, savoring the shared pleasure. His hand rested gently on your waist, his elbow propped against the headboard, creating a barrier of intimacy around you. "I love you most," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. 

As his movements quickened, your breathing grew ragged, your body responding to his rhythm. A deep, primal moan escaped your lips, echoing the passion that filled the room. You dug your fingers into his hair, the intensity of the moment pushing you towards a peak. 

The air grew thick with anticipation, the sound of skin meeting skin creating a symphony of pleasure. His hand moved to your leg, gently opening it, allowing him deeper access. His rhythm intensified a primal rhythm that echoed through your core, leaving both of you breathless. 

"Hanta" you moaned out, Your body arching off the bed, muscles clenching as you reached your climax. The feeling was overwhelming, a wave of pleasure that washed over you, leaving you trembling in his arms. You moaned into his mouth, the sound raspy and desperate, mirroring the intensity of your emotions. 

Sero, mirroring your intensity, reached his peak moments later, a guttural moan leaving his lips. "Fuck, Y/n," he cried out, pulling out as he released his cum on your stomach.

The room fell silent, the air filled with the lingering scent of sex. Both of you were spent, panting softly, your foreheads pressed together as you caught your breath. He stole a kiss, a tender gesture that conveyed the depth of his affection. 

Reaching over to his nightstand, he grabbed a tissue, gently wiping the cum from your stomach. "You doing okay, mi cielo?" he asked, his voice soft and concerned. 

You snuggled closer, resting your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "More than okay," you whispered.

tags: @slayfics Lmk if you wanna be added 🐸

[kagamesayu]

more on...

shidou who hates leaving bimbo!reader's side.

c/w . implied female reader, implied smut, fluff, angst ??, possessive shidou wc: 1 k a/n . ngl this took forever and it's cause it ESCAPED me oh my... it might get messy at some point and i am SO SORRY . also im slowly becoming a shidou x bimbo!reader blog this is crazy, they're just so fun to write ugh reblogs and comments appreciated ✧*.

from my shidou x bimbo!reader pt 2

it's already a problem when you have to leave to go grocery shopping or anything of the like. he tries to find every excuse under the sun to go with you, even if he doesn't have to and you live right beside a convenience store.

"ryu baby i just need to go out and get that tiktok hair mask! you don't have to come-"

"yeah yeah shut yer trap doll i'm comin'. what if my baby needs a big strong guy to help her take her things?" he flexes his muscles, smirking as you gulp.

and you're too sweet and dumb to remember that you only need to get one thing, lowkey wanting shidou to be with you cause you always forget what you wanted to buy.

"mm...but i don't wanna waste your time ryu..."

"what if ya chip a nail-"

"omg you're so right! thank you baby, you're the best!"

he'll insist on going with you and it's all fun and games until he thinks someone's looking at your cute sequence miniskirt or your tight Barbie tanktop too long.

seems like some people can't take the hint - even with his arm snaked around your waist. one thing leads to another and he's in a fight for your honour, grinning madly and thoroughly fucking up the person staring you down.

because of his reactions you tend to sneak out and get the things really quickly - this doesn't usually work out though cause shidou always has tabs on you. he's obsessed after all!

this always ens with you getting a 'punishment' which can range from having to sit on his lap and feed him grapes to letting him have all the fun he wants with you.

if you get what i'm saying ;)

it's even worse when he has to leave you for a whole different country. he regularly goes overseas for matches and you almost always go with him.

but your scatter brained self will forget the dates and there are times you can't go with him because you forgot to take the days off.

and when he finds out he's so, so sad - never mad because he never gets mad at you. loves you too much.

"doll~ oh my cute, dumb baby doll~!" he squishes your face till your lips pucker, making you look at him as he pouts at you. "why'd ya gotta hurt me like this baby~?"

"didn't mean to ryu!" your speech is muffled, fingers wrapping around the wrist of the hand holding you hostage. "forgot..."

he sighs exaggeratedly before pecking your pouted lips, pulling away with a grin. "it's okay baby. it's ok," he sounds like he's saying that for himself. "just spend all yer time with me now, kay?"

as the days creep by, he becomes much more clingy. he becomes more quick to anger on the field, scoring much more and becoming so much more aggressive in his plays.

he never brings that energy home though, he treats his baby doll with so much care, he wouldn't dare make them cry.

he only brings that drive with him into the bedroom 🥵

you've been trying to make up for your mistake by pampering him more. leaving more lipstick kisses on his face and neck and making more beaded bracelets. you'd even made him an altoid wallet with polaroid pics of you two!

not gonna say he cried when he saw this but....

you pack some pink bandaids and hair clips in his luggage, and even let him take your favourite stuffed rabbit.

"please look after mr hannah montana! he can't have gluten and seafood and he hates the colour green so please don't put him in green clothes."

"okay baby-"

"and he also needs his fluff brushed in the morning!"

"yes-"

"and he hates being in a luggage so you have to hold him in your arms!"

"anythin' for you doll~"

and when that fated day arrives he gets so, so obnoxiously clingy. singing 'i love you's and 'i'll miss you's as he hangs off your shoulders, arms snaked around you. it was like he was trying to be a part of you.

he was :) he always wants to be inside you, sexually or not

he holds you like you're his lifeline. kisses you like it's your last.

you're both in the airport, a hand holding his duffle bag, the other holding yours, mr hannah montana in your arm as you try your darn hardest not to cry. your nails are digging into shidou's hands but he doesn't say anything.

he needs to feel you clinging to him. needs to feel you need him. cause he won't be able to have you for a week and he thinks he might die thinking about it.

who's gonna kiss his 'boo boo's when he gets into fights? who's gonna paint his nails and blow dry his hair while talking about what happened at work?

who's he gonna kiss and hug and fuck?

fuck, he's going to die.

"ryu..." your whiny tearful voice breaks him from his thoughts, his grip tightening around your hand. "gonna miss you so much-!"

your mascara falls with your tears, jaw quivering as the time for his flight comes closer and closer.

"oh doll." his coo makes you pause, his hand let's go of yours only to come up to your cheek. "'m gonna call ya everyday and yer gonna send me pictures everyday, right?"

"yeah..."

"and ya got that pile of clothes in case ya get lonely?"

"course!"

"good. i'll be back so fuckin' fast baby you won't even have time to miss me~" his handsome smirk is splayed on his face, "and don't forget," he leans in close and kisses you passionately, tongue sneaking in your mouth as his hand moves to hold your throat.

when you pull away, you're breathless, panting and gasping air greedily, a string of spit connecting your lips. you don't even think about the fact that you're in an airport with his teamates staring at the two of you. you can't think about anything other than shidou ryusei.

"'m yours and yer mine, no matter where i go."

[nicnak20]

Two plus three:

*Yn gives birth to her and Nicholas's child.*

The California sun usually streamed through the blinds of Nicholas and Yn's bedroom, painting warm stripes across their faces and gently nudging them awake. This morning, however, Yn was already wide awake, a cold sweat slicking her brow, and a low, guttural moan escaping her lips. Nicholas, usually a heavy sleeper, jolted upright at the sound.

"Yn? What's wrong?" His voice was thick with sleep, but laced with immediate concern. His dark brown hair was rumpled, sticking up at odd angles, and his brown eyes, usually bright and cheerful, were now clouded with worry.

Yn gasped, clutching her stomach. "I think... I think it's happening."

The room spun for a moment. "Happening? You mean… the baby?" Nicholas's mind struggled to catch up. They were still a week away from their due date. He had meticulously packed the hospital bag, read every parenting book he could get his hands on, and even practiced swaddling a teddy bear until Yn swore he was better at it than most nurses. But he hadn't expected it to start now.

Yn nodded, her face contorted in pain. "Yes, Nicholas! The baby! Devon is ready to make his grand entrance."

Adrenaline coursed through Nicholas. He was a smart man, calm under pressure in his professional life, but this was different. This was Yn, the love of his life, the woman he adored, going through something incredibly intense, and he felt utterly helpless, completely at the mercy of the situation. He took a deep breath, trying to remember everything they had learned in their birthing classes.

"Okay, okay," he said, his voice shaky but trying to project confidence. "Let's get you to the hospital. Did your water break?"

"Not yet," Yn groaned. "But the contractions are getting stronger. And closer together!"

He grabbed the hospital bag, practically tripping over himself in his haste. “Alright, let’s go, let’s go.” He helped Yn out of bed, wincing at her obvious discomfort. "Easy now, sweetheart."

That's when the first wrinkle appeared in their well-laid plans. As they reached the front door, Nicholas realized he couldn't find his car keys. He frantically patted his pockets, rummaged through the side table, and even checked under the couch cushions.

"Where are they?" He muttered, his voice rising in panic.

"Nicholas!" Yn snapped, her voice surprisingly sharp. "The keys can wait! I can't!"

Just as he was about to tear the house apart, he spotted them dangling from the key rack. A small victory, but he couldn't help but feel ridiculous.

He managed to get Yn into the car and buckled in. As he backed out of the driveway, he was so focused on Yn's breathing exercises that he completely missed the bright pink flamingo lawn ornament their eccentric neighbor, Mrs. Henderson, had placed right in his blind spot. There was a sickening crunch.

"Nicholas!" Yn cried, more in exasperation than pain this time.

He stopped the car, his face paling. "Oh, God. Mrs. Henderson is going to kill me."

"Nicholas!" Yn repeated, even louder this time. "Focus on the baby! The flamingo can wait!"

He took another deep breath, trying to channel his inner zen master. Right. Baby. Hospital. Ignore the mangled flamingo. He put the car in drive and sped off, leaving a trail of pink feathers in his wake.

The drive to the hospital, normally a breezy fifteen-minute journey down the Pacific Coast Highway, felt like an eternity. Every red light seemed to last forever, every slow-moving car in front of them was an insurmountable obstacle.

To add to the chaos, Yn's labor seemed to have a sense of humor. Just as they approached a particularly long stretch of highway, she announced, "I think I'm going to throw up!"

Nicholas frantically searched for something, anything, she could use. He found a half-eaten bag of chips in the backseat and thrust it towards her. Yn glared at him.

"Seriously, Nicholas? Chips?"

He stammered, "It's the only thing I could find!"

Luckily, the feeling passed, and the chips remained uneaten. They finally arrived at the hospital, the tires squealing as Nicholas pulled up haphazardly to the emergency entrance. He jumped out of the car and rushed around to help Yn.

As he was helping her out, a particularly strong contraction hit. She doubled over, clutching his arm. "Nicholas," she gasped, "I think... I think my water just broke."

A small puddle was indeed forming at her feet. And just then, as if on cue, a parking attendant strolled up, clipboard in hand.

"Sir," he said in a bored tone, "you can't park here. This is a fire lane."

Nicholas, normally a polite and reasonable man, snapped. "My wife is in labor!" he yelled, gesturing wildly at Yn. "She's about to have a baby! Can't you see that?"

The parking attendant, unfazed, simply shrugged. "Rules are rules, sir. You'll have to move the car."

Yn, summoning every ounce of strength she possessed, glared at the attendant. "Are you deaf? I'm about to push a human being out of my body! Park the car yourself!"

Nicholas, seeing the look in Yn's eyes, decided discretion was the better part of valor. He grabbed Yn, half-carrying, half-dragging her towards the hospital entrance, leaving the parking attendant sputtering in his wake.

They finally made it to the delivery room, where a team of nurses rushed to Yn's side. Nicholas stood there, feeling utterly useless, as they hooked her up to monitors and prepared for the delivery.

Hours blurred into a haze of pain, encouragement, and a surprising amount of yelling. Nicholas held Yn's hand, wiped her brow, and repeated every encouraging word he could think of. He was amazed by her strength, her resilience, her sheer determination. He had always known she was incredible, but watching her bring their son into the world filled him with an even deeper sense of awe and love.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the room filled with the sound of a baby's cry. A healthy, robust cry.

"It's a boy!" the doctor announced, placing the baby on Yn's chest.

Nicholas's eyes welled up with tears. He looked at Yn, her face flushed and exhausted but radiating pure joy. He looked at the tiny baby, his son, Devon, nestled in his mother's arms. In that moment, all the chaos, the flamingo, the parking attendant, it all faded away. All that mattered was this. This perfect, beautiful moment.

"He's perfect," Nicholas whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Yn smiled, her eyes shining. "He is."

Later, as Yn was resting and Devon was sleeping peacefully in his bassinet, Nicholas sat beside them, watching them breathe. He was exhausted, emotionally drained, and covered in… well, let’s just say he was covered in baby-related fluids. But he had never felt so happy, so complete.

He thought about the crazy morning, the frantic rush, the sheer absurdity of it all. He chuckled softly. It was the perfect introduction to parenthood. He knew there would be more challenges, more sleepless nights, more moments of utter panic. But he also knew that he would face them all, with Yn by his side, with love, with patience, and with a healthy dose of humor. After all, they had a flamingo to replace.

[darrycurtisismywife]

Little Curtis brothers headcanons

I just made a post about little Darry so know I feel like making a post about headcanons on all the Curtis brothers as kids. I say all but this will mainly be Darry and Sodapop.

Darry used to be really scared of the dark, so he would either have to spend the whole night with the lights on, sleep in the same bed as his parents or his brothers, or his mum or dad would have to stay with him with the lights on until he fell asleep.

Sodapop was scared of the dark for a little bit but not as much and only sometimes, but he quickly grew out of that. The only times he was scared was when he heard Darry crying a lot, because he felt that if his older brother was scared off something, then it was serious, and there really should be a reason to be afraid. Other than that, he actually finds being in the dark calming, and it helps him fall alseep faster.

Ponyboy was also only somtimes scared of the dark, mainly when Soda or Darry was, because by the time Pony was like five, Darry still hadn't fully grown out of it, it was like a phobia. It was a chain reaction of kids being scared that their parents had to put up with, and sometimes they would all just sleep in the lounge together as a little sleepover, or at least the brothers would all sleep in Darry's room together and they would be fine. As Pony grew older, the only time he would be scared was when one of the other gang members, mainly Two-Bit or Dally would tell him a scary story.

When getting told off, Sodapop would almost always start crying immediately, and it would be full on bawling his eyes out. There are many headcanons of Soda being a little crybaby and I one hundred percent agree with that, it is pretty much canon. The telling off would turn into comforting little kid Soda and reasuring him that what he did wasn't that bad, and it was an accident or not his fault.

Darry wouldn't cry that much when getting told off, unless it was very serious when he was younger. He wouldn't really do anything or say anything and people sometimes mistook that as Darry not caring about what was happening. In reality he really did and would feel really guilty. When told by his parents, "We're not mad, we're just dissapointed," that would usually be when he broke down because he hated it since he didn't want his parents to be dissapointed in him.

Ponyboy didn't get told off that often because Darry would usally take the fall for him.

The name Darry came from when Soda was first learning to talk, Dary would sometimes play with him and try to teach him some words, including his name. Baby Soda couldn't say Darrel so he would say Darry instead and Darry loved it since he took it as Soda trying, and eventually everyone started calling him it.

Soda and Darry did the same thing with Ponyboy when he was learning to talk, playing with him and trying to teach him new words. When Ponyboy said Soda for the first time Sodapop was so happy he cried which caused Ponyboy to cry because he thought something was wrong.

When Ponyboy first started school he would be bullied for his name so eventually when he first met people and no one else that knew him was around he would lie and say that his name was Darry because he liked his brothers name a lot better and was sometimes jealous of it. When his family found out about this they had a long talk and Darry and Soda spent ages talking to Pony about how they loved his name, and the next day at school Darry defended Pony to be the kids at school.

Darry got into a fistfight at school once and got suspended for a week but he didn't care because he was protecting his brothers form more bullies

When Mrs Curtis was baking something all three of the brothers would lurk around the kitchen trying to steal some scraps when she wasn't looking. She was always looking and would hit them with a wooden spoon across their hands when they tried to steal some cholocate chips and cookie dough. One time she hit Soda too hard and made him cry so she had to give him some so he would stop, and then had to give some to Pony and Darry so it was fair

When Ponyboy started school he was really shy so Sodapop sat with him at lunch and introduced him to some people. Darry had showed him around the school and told him which people to stay away from because they were idiots

Whenever the family was going on a walk and they passed someone with a dog either Mr or Mrs Curtis would have to ask the owner if they could pet the dog and they would stay there for about five minutes so the kids could pet the dog. Sodapop would always be sulky when they had to move on.

They all love animal and would go insane whenever they see one. Especially Sodapop.

When Mr Curtis was doing some chores outside like mowing the lawn of when he was fixing the car Darry would always be following along and would always ask to try. He was always happy when he mowed the lawn and his dad said he did a good job when he let Darry help with the car

Darry was also always the one to sit in their dads lap and drive the car up the drive way

Darry used to sit in bed with Soda and Pony and read books to them, and a lot of the time at least one, or sometimes all of them, would fall alseep. There's a couple photos of them all sleeping in the bed with the book falling out of Darry's hand and it was taped to the fridge for a long time.

When Pony started learning to read he would try and read to his brothers instead.

Based on something my family used to do: Sometimes they would put music on the radio and all the three brothers woud dance to the music in the lounge and put on little shows for their parents.

Another thing my sister and I used to do: Sodapop and Ponyboy used to love eating frozen peas so sometimes their dad would sometimes pour them a small bowl of frozen peas and they would sit on the same chair together and eat peas.

When Mickey Mouse got sold Ponyboy drew a picture of him to try and help Soda. Soda was so touched that he started crying again and Pony panicked because he though he had made Soda sad but then he hugged him

Whenever Darry made Pony cry as a way to get him to shut up he would pick him up and throw him slightly up in the air, or give him piggy backs around the lounge and that would calm him down.

Ponyboy started over exargerating him crying so he would get free piggy backs

All the three of them have leaned back on the chair too far

Surprinsingly all three of them used to be picky eaters and it would be nearly impossible for their parents to cook a meal that they all liked that wasn't take aways or junk food. This is the phase they grew out of the most

Sodapop and Pony used to annoy the hell out of Darry by calling him Darry Queen whenever they went to Dairy Queen

Darry and Soda used to annoy the hell out of Pony by calling him horseman

During summer they would all annoy the hell out of their parents by begging them to set up the pool, buy them ice cream, or go down to the watering hole.

During the summer they would also have heaps of water fights and their dad would either turn the sprinkler on or just spray them straight with the hose

Second hand Darry clothes

I might do a part 2 if I can think of more but for now this is it.

[kittwix]

Abbacchio x reader that is like a granny? Has a cute garden, makes quilts, feeds stray cats, falls asleep pretty easily, and baking treats for the gang. Also i chose abbacchio for this because i see him as a grumpy old man sometimes.

Leone Abbacchio x Granny-like! Reader

this is so cute and so real because he really is like a grandpa lol old man abbachio but he looks good for his age

tags: cavity inducing fluff, abbacchio being a little mean, no implications that reader is stand user (up to you to decide), reader is gender neutral but there is a bit of a feminine undertone!!

Despite his gruff exterior and perpetual scowl, Abbacchio finds you inexplicably comforting. You're warm, your scent of lavender and worn books and chocolate chip cookies drives him insane. He'll envelop you in his arms without a word, digging his face into your shirt as you giggle and playfully pride him off.

He'll audibly groan when you need him to hold yarn while you wind it, but he holds it for you every single time. One day you caught him finishing a quilt square that you didnt have time to do. Needless to say, you were very touched.

No matter how rough his day is, he'll sit at the wooden bench that you keep under an apple or fig tree and let you rub his back. He's always stressed, you're his only way out and you help him cleanse his mind with just your presence alone.

Sometimes you'll watch a movie together and you fall asleep midway through. He'd carry you to bed without waking you up. And if you snore, he'll gently shift your head so that it'll be easier for you to breathe. And he'll look over his shoulder a few times, just taking in your sight before grumbling under his breath at how ridiculous you are.

There's a fluffy tabby that often visits your garden that you deemed to be named "Mr. Pickles". He says he doesn't care about the cat. But you panicked about how ill Mr.Pickles had gotten, and he sighed to himself and managed to nurse the feline back to health and wiped the tears that fell down your face as you cradled the healthy cat in your arms.

He melts on the inside whenever he hears you fussing over him. "Did you eat today? You're too pale. Come here, I made soup." He could hear you say to him almost sweetly, ushering for him to sit down and he'd always comply with a grumble.

Speaking of food, you'd think about the others as well much to his own displeasure as he looks off brooding. Mista once cried over your almond biscotti. Fugo's been known to carry those strawberry and butterscotch drops you give him like treasure. And when you make dinner for the others, you'd always make sure to label them with cutesy cursive and a little doodle at the end and send Abbacchio off to go drop them. He'd have to bite back his tongue when he gave Giorno your homemade Aricini.

He's still sharp, still bitter, still dark but when he's with you, he lets himself smile more. Even laugh, sometimes. Quietly. When no one else is looking. You're ridiculous and brittle and he loves and hates himself for protecting you so much.

[luimagines]

You’re Turned into a Kid Part 2

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2 will include Sky, Four and Legend!

Content under the cut!

Sky

Sky tried his best to keep his smile off of his face when he heard little giggles coming from behind him. He felt his sailcloth move and suddenly there were little hands on his back, still giggling to themselves.

Keeping it cool, he keep whittling away on the tree branch Wild was kind enough to give him.

“Gotcha!” You cried, poking his sides. He jumped enough to make it seem like he hadn’t known you were there the whole time and turned to you with his grin on his face. “Did I scare you?”

“Yes you did.” Sky chuckles, moving his arm up to get a better look at you. “what are you doing back there, huh?”

You laugh some more, throwing the sailcloth over your head to “hide”. Sky snorts and returns to whittle the branch.

“Mr. Sky?” You ask him, poking your head out but wrapping the sailcloth around your arms. “What are you doing?”

Sky moves the knife away from your reach and shows you his work. “I’m try to make a little bird friend.”

You tilt your head. “...That doesn’t look like a bird at all.”

Sky snorts. “Well not at the moment. I’ve just started not too long ago.”

He moves aside his sailcloth, taking it away from you before he pats the spot next to him. “You’re free to watch me if you’d like. It won’t take too long until it starts to look like a bird.”

You sit down with little more invitation, hopping so that your legs are touching, clearing wanting to see as much as you can. the idea of watching the bird show more and more is intriguing. You’re not sure how he’s going to do it.

Sky goes back to work quickly, letting you tug on his arm so that he can bring his work even closer to you. He has to be a little more careful with the stroke of his blade though, less the woods chips go flying into either of you, but he’s happy that you’re showing an interest.

Soon, the familiar shape of a loftwing begins to take shape.

“That doesn’t look like a bird!” You cry out, feeling cheated. “What is it really?”

“It is a bird.” Sky shakes his head with an easy going smile on his face. “It’s a loftwing. Where I’m from-” And wow, isn’t that a weird thing to say? “-everyone has their other half. They say our halves are out loftwings. We use them to fly in the sky and get from island to island.”

You don’t seem to believe him. “There’s no islands in the sky.”

“Yes there is.” Many other Links answer in unison. Sky didn’t know he had this many people listening to your conversations.

“Oh.” You shrink down, embarrassed at being called out. “But we can’t see them.”

“Correct.” They answer again.

Sky bites his lip, trying to not laugh- or maybe he’s trying to not cry. Who knows? He takes a deep breath and works on the bird a little more.

“Alright!” Hyrule calls out. “I think I figured it out! We can turn them back to normal now!”

You’re quickly called to where he is. You don’t seem to realize what he’s talking about, only that something is going to happen.

“Mr. Sky?” You tug on his sleeve. “When I come back, will you show me the islands in the sky?”

Something tugs on his heart. “Of course, sweetheart. Whenever you want.”

Four

“Hey, you’re little!” You shouted, running up to Four. You put your hand over your head and slowly outstretched your arm to see where you matched with his height.

He was still taller by you, but you enthralled by the lack of distance between the two of you. A joyous laugh tumbled out of your mouth. This was apparently very amusing to you.

Four couldn’t even find it in himself to be annoyed or mad. “Yeah. We’re almost the same height, huh?”

“But you’re a big kid, right?” You grin, latching onto his arm without a second thought. Hyrule makes the gesture for Four to keep you there as he slowly lets the magic seep out through his hands towards you. Distract you, he’s saying, don’t let you move too much.

Four nods and grins your way. “I’m older than you’d think I am. Do you want to guess?”

You take it as a challenge and put on your best thinking face. Four doesn’t want to interrupt you as you try to get the closest possible guess. You don’t seem to come to an answer you’re happy with. You try to get hints out of him instead. “Are you my age?”

Four snorts. “How old are you?”

“Seven!”

“Not even close. Higher.” Four laughs. “Try again.”

You huff and put you finger to your chin, thinking very deeply about the matter. “You’re a lot older than me then? Hmmm...”

Four watched you with a curious look. You’re a cute kid. How on earth did you get swept up into this like the rest of them?

“Eleven?” You try again.

Four snort and shakes his head. “Try again.”

You seem shocked that you were wrong. Maybe he was an even bigger kid? You think about it again and Four has to bite his lip to try and keep a straight face. So cute~

“Fifteen?”

“Closer but no.”

You frown and look to the ground, you let him go and put your hands on his hips. “...You’re an old man.”

“Hey!”

Hyrule starts giggling uncontrollably. Four looks at the other hero with a (frankly harmless) glare. You seem to start giggling as well. Four is melted by the sound and he shakes his head. “I’m not even the oldest of the group.”

You look around and spot Time easily but you turn back to Four with a large grin on your face. “But you’re like me! And we’re better than them.” 

Four snorts and wraps his arm around your shoulders. “You know what? Yes, we are.”

Legend

This felt weird.

He knew it was you, and you still looked like you- but his heart squeezed at the sight of you.

You were cute... but he had no idea what to do any more. He’s not the best with kids even if he wanted to befriend them.

To his luck or to his misfortune, you seemed more than willing to latch onto him and stick to his hip.

“Why is your hair pink?” Was what had to be your seventh thousand question of the hour. Legend inwardly winced, not sure how to broach that subject. IT’s not like you were at the age to understand the entire complexities of transfiguration magic and different world and portal.

But he also didn’t have the heart to lie to you.

“A friend of mine wanted my hair pink.” He says through gritted teeth, looking as much of a liar as his voice gives away. Some other members (especially those who know the truth) laugh to themselves, no doubt hold back from outwardly calling him out.

His answers seems to stump you for a second. At first you looked ready to accept it but then you questioned him again. “Why?”

Legend sighed. “I have no idea, buddy. Your guess is as good as mine.”

You pouted and crossed your arms, thinking some more. “But why would they want your hair to be pink? They should make their hair pink instead.”

“Agreed.” He runs his hand down his face, smiling tiredly. “I couldn’t agree more if I tried. I’m just waiting until the color goes away.”

“Why?”

Oh my goodness, Legend bites his cheek. “Uhh.. Because I don’t want my hair to be pink.”

“Oh.” You reach up and grab the hem of his sleeve, moving a little quicker before you could be left behind. Legend slows down for your sake, letting you catch up to him before he starts moving at your pace. 

You look up at him and smile down at you, trying to not show how awkward he is. You nod once to yourself and smile brightly right back to him. “I like the pink. You look nice.”

Legend sighed, feeling the tips of his ears go pink to match the subject of the conversation. “Thank you...”

You giggle and turn to look forward. “Will the big puppy come back again?”

Legend sends a knowing glare when Twilight sends him a knowing smirk. “No, I don’t think he will. It seems he wants you to stay with us for the time being, so he’s playing keep away.”

“What do that mean?” You tilt your head.

Twilight snorts. “Legend would get jealous if you play with Wolfie all the time.”

Legend grits his teeth, a foul mouthed word on the tip of his tongue. He holds himself back. “Very funny. I don’t actually mind at all.”

You don’t seem to catch what either of them are implying. “That’s ok. I like Legend more anyway!”

Twilight starts snickering while Legend fumbles over his own two feet. 

Oh my, you’re so cute.  

Part 3

[spookyfluffy]

I think a lot of people miss out on Jaiden's off stream shenanigans so here's a list of offline moments I personally love:

Jaiden screaming "Get down Mr President!" and protecting Foolish and Leo from capybara mines

Foolish saying "what if the code writes an apology" and Jaiden responding with "what if we get the code a ukelele"

Jaiden naming Cucurucho's bald eagle "Hatsune Miku" during July the 4th and then saying "I love you!" as he flies away on a cloud

Jaiden meeting Abueloir and quickly understanding why Cellbit attempted to kill him

The Dorime Music Video: Directed by BadBoyHalo with Tallulah/Pomme as dancers, Jaiden and Foolish pole dancing, Leo orange justicing on a horse and Richas with pyrotechnics

Cucurucho accidentally shooting Jaiden with a gun and then immediately blowing bubbles and throwing healing potions (the favoritism)

Ramon being embarrassed to paint in front of Jaiden and her going "I don't really draw in MS Paint"

Cucurucho joining her team for Hide and Seek and trying to stop him from getting JUMPED by everyone else

Jaiden seeing the Bobby statue in Hide and Seek and her little "Bobby!" and jumping into it

Leo seeing Bobby Fields and writing in a book "Isn't this sad?" so Jaiden won't see it, only for Foolish to read it out loud

The entirety of Jaiden taking Cellbit and Richarlyson to Bobby Fields <3

Jaiden singing "It's been so long" and FNAF fishing with Chayanne and Tallulah

Jaiden chipping in to buy Tallulah a sombrero that she used to have from Wilbur before she lost it

Forever talking about how Bobby inspired the NINHO and saying he cried that day and Jaiden going "Oh yeah, I didn't cry at all! Nope!"