#and george is just curled up like a little cat trying to get comfortable

[floridanotfound]

✨qnf sleepover✨

george: give me the bed time story

quackity: fuck you... um let's see, once upon a time

[goblinpuppy35]

The Punk and the Wolf

(Previous chapter, Part 2, Next Chapter)

Remus Lupin x Male Reader

Summary: Set during OFTP, Y/N is Mad Eye Moody's assistant and while staying at Grimmauld place, him and Remus develop a connection.

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

It was past midnight by the time the whole house began to calm down and everyone retired to bed. Since Remus had arrived a few days earlier he was able to claim his room, not that he really cared. He was laying on top of the covers his hands resting on his chest listening to the sound of Molly Weasley trying to get her litter to settle down.

"Now come on boys there's been enough excitement for one day, off you go". A joint sigh could be heard coming from Fred and George "Why do we have to share mum!? We don't mind Harry but you know how loud Ron snores!". With her own sigh Molly replies "Oh hush, your lucky you even have a bedroom, those who only arrived a few hours again are having to sleep down in the living room, do you want to swap?".

Remus assumed Molly was referring to Mad Eye Moody and Y/N. He was tempted to offer up his room, he really didn't mind where he slept since he never got a goodnights rest anyway. His joints would ache regardless. He spent the rest of the night tossing and turning, never quite finding a comfortable stop and in the early hours of the morning gave up entirely. With the soft dull light of dawn creeping through the curtains Remus decides to find something to read. Fortunately he remembered seeing a copy of The Odyssey on Sirius's bookshelf downstairs, though Remus doubted if his best friend had ever given a single book in this house a second glance. 

Remus crept down the stairs, madthodically trying not to make any loud creeks as he went. The silence was deafening and such a contrast to how it felt earlier, full of people, light and noise, now Remus felt like he was walking through a morgue afterhours. First things first a cup of tea, he thinks as he makes his way into the kitchen. His eyebags felt heavy and as Remus pushed open the door he felt like he was sleepwalking, so when he reached out for the kettle and his forehead bumped into something soft he didn't react straight away. His reaction came after a surprised "wooooh hey there" echoed above him. With a mixture of confusion and surprise Remus steps back a little and squints upwards as his eyes adjust to the darkness. 

Above him on the counter is a pair of leather boots, Y/N's boots and Y/N is in them, fully standing on the counter, arms raised and hands burried in the top shelf of assorted packets and food tins. He's looking down at Remus with the same expression a cat dose after they have just been caught pushing a glass off the table. "Oh it's just you" Y/N's breathes in relief and carries on rummaging, "what are you doing here?".

"What are YOU doing here?" was Remus' response, still baffled by what he was witnessing. "I think Molly put a packet of biscuits up here to keep them away from the twins and AHH here we go" with a crinkle of a package Y/N pulls them off the shelf with a triumph and turns around to properly face Remus. Because he was standing on top of the counter Remus had a clear view of Y/N's belt buckle, it seemed to be a bronze engraved plate of a hare curled up. It was handsome and strange, just like Y/N Remus thought and then he became incredibly aware he was staring at Y/N's crotch. He suddenly felt very warm around the collar and wished to be in a different situation. Now that Y/N had found what he was looking for he abruptly sat down on the counter with a little thud and then a whack when he boots hit the cupboard doors below him. This decent now meant him and Remus were the same height, eyes, nose and mouth all the same level to one another now. Remus started to wish he was looking at Y/Ns crotch again, it would be clear how crimson his face was if it wasn't so dark.

"Want one?" Y/N asked raising the packet of what seemed to be chocolate chip cookies towards Remus, Y/N tilted his head and smiled as he said this looking into the older man's eyes. Why did Remus feel so nervous about much a simple question. "Oh no, no thank you .. not nearly enough chocolate for me".

'What a ridiculous response' he thought to himself, mentally putting his head in his hands.

"Ah I see, well more for me then so thank you" Y/N says cheerily, taking one biscuit and then toasting it in Remus' direction before hopping off the counter and making his way towards the living room door. "Umm I don't think we've been properly introduced yet" Remus almost yelps out trying his best to keep the conversation from ending. "I'm Remus Lupin, can I make you a morning cup of tea?", Y/N stood for a moment and observed Remus with a smile, he found this gesture very sweet. "Nice to meet you properly Remus Lupin and yes please that would be lovely, though it's a night time cup of tea for me, you see we only got back about twenty minutes ago, me and Moody do night patrols and then various missions and enquiries for Sirius during the day so I'm afraid we probably won't see to much of each other". Hearing this genuinely made Remus sad as well as a little concerned when he looked up at the clock and saw it was 4:30am, "That's a lot to take on, you must be exhausted".

"No more than everyone else I imagine" Y/N's say through a massive yawn and he arches his back ninety degrees backwards making it crack a little. Remus has never been super flexible, he thought if he tried to roll his shoulders back it would cause an earthquake.

With tea made Remus carries the two mugs through to the living room. As he walks through the door the sight of a slouched snoring Moody in the near by chair made him jump and then instantly laugh softly. "Its okay he wont wake up" Y/N says walking passed Remus, lightly brushing his arm against Remus' he goes. Remus nearly slips the tea from a shiver which goes up his spine. "Once Moodys gone he's out like a light but then again he knows he can here because this is the only place where we are truly safe." while he talks Y/N makes his way to the sofa which has a couple of blankets layed out, he sits down lifting his feet up and over the sofa arm. Remus placed Y/Ns mug next to him on the small table, instead of saying thank you Y/N gave Remus a warm smile and Remus instinctively gave one back before sitting in the arm chair across from him. Despite the bizarre start to the meeting, sitting here with Y/N felt so calm and relaxing.

"So what's your reason for being up so late, early, whatever" Y/N asks as he blows on his mug. "Oh i cam down to find something to read!" remembering this excited Remus and he got up to moved towards to bookshelf , "I noticed there was a copy of The Odyssey, its one of my favourites.... at least I thought it was here, a small paper back copy" he furrowed his brow as he searched. "Do you mean this paper back?" and turning around Remus saw Y/N holding up the exact book he'd seen in between his painted fingers. "Sorry I saw it earlier and its always been on my list and I thought during the few moments Im not running around I could give it a go but here" and Y/N leans forward holding the book out for Remus to take. "Oh no really its fine im sure I can find something else here.." Remus began to say but as he skewered the shelves he realised every other book he had either already read or didnt like, there were even a few old magazines scrolled up and shoved in here. Oh for goodness sake Sirius.

Y/N watched the tall mans face grow more annoyed and smiled to himself. "Heres an idea" he spoke up and draw Remus out of his thoughts. Y/N with his thumb flicked through the book until he reached and end and then shiftily tore out a page, a gasp left Remus' mouth and Y/N chuckled in his direction. "Calm down its a blank page" he whispers as he tears the blank page in two, "since you and me will be up at different hours of the day anyway, why don't we share it. See ill write my name here" Y/N leans down and picks up a pen from the table, "And your name here. There. Two book marks" he beamed up at Remus once he finished his task and this smile made the mans heart melt. Y/N placed his bookmark on the page he had reached and places Remus' into the front of the book before lifting up his hand again waiting for the older man to come and take the book.

Slowly Remus came toward Y/N and started to take the book but stopped when he realised his long fingers were touching Y/Ns hand, he could feel some of the cold metal of Y/Ns rings in his palm. Neither of them said anything or moved for a moment, they both observed the interaction and then looked to one another, their eyes meeting. "I look forward to hearing what you think about it" Remus finally said, still looking into Y/Ns eyes. "Likewise" and finally after what felt like several prolonged minutes they separated. As they did Remus suddenly noticed Y/Ns shirt sleeve fall down a little revealing strange markings and colouration on his arm, it wasnt scarring but there was something unusual there, like a mark? "Well.." Y/N continued to say as he briskly pulled down his sleeve and cleared his throat, "I think ive got about two hours before me and Moody have to be up again."

Remus nods "of course, sleep well Y/N" and he walks out of the room holding the book to his chest with both hands. As much as he would have liked to stay and talked to the charming and peculiar man he also liked the idea of Y/N getting some rest. Remus spent the rest of the day with The Odyssey his is cardigan pocket, running his thumb over the spine. When night fell he was laying on his bed reading it though with every paragraph he imagined Y/N reading it and wondered what he thought. Did he laugh at the same bits he did, did the same quotes stay in his head too? Without evening realising Remus drifted off playing these questions over and over in his head.

It was the birds chirping which woke him up the next morning. Quickly he sat up and looked at the alarm clock. 6:30am. Shit. With a brisk pace Remus came down the stairs and instantly saw the living room door wide open, blankets draped everywhere. They were gone. Shit. He sighed in frustration and at a slower pace wondered into the kitchen to switch the kettle on. Similar to before he reached out towards the counter and then was taken aback though the cause was not a midnight snack thief this time. Resting against the kettle was a full packet of double chocolate biscuits and there was a note.

"Saw these when we were out and thought of you. Hope they meet your insanely high standards for biscuits! :) - Y/N"

Remus began to beam from ear to ear. It had been a long time since someone had given him a gift, even if it was just food. Only one thing kept swimming around in his head at this moment. "I think I'm really falling for this guy. Shit."

[teaandransacking]

hii!! could you do an anthony lockwood drabble where reader is having a stressful day and its just a bit of comfort from him ? thank you ^^^

Of course! I had a bit of a shitty day on Thursday so I sympathise.

I hope this ticks all your boxes!

Words: 1k ~ content: Straightforward Fluff.

You closed your bedroom door, wondering if screaming into your pillow would be audible for your housemates downstairs.

It���d been a hell of a day. First you’d accidentally tumbled loads of books off a shelf in The Archives when the hardback you wanted was stuck. Then when opening your purse in Arif’s shop, the coins had jumped out of a rip in the seam and rolled under the baking goods shelf, some of them never to be seen again. And then, when you’d arrived home and shut yourself in the basement to blow off some steam with rapier practice, a fuse had blown, and no one else was home, so you’d spent a frustrating half hour trying to change it, something you’d never done before.

After  all that, you were so thoroughly frazzled that just one more thing would’ve been the last straw, so when Lucy, George and Lockwood arrived home after a recce on a nearby mansion, you’d pleaded a headache and retreated upstairs. They’d wanted to hear the results of your research, but you’d asked them to wait until tomorrow.

You loved them all, but you were going to have a meltdown if today threw one more spanner in your path. 

As intent as you were on escaping, you hadn’t noticed Lockwood’s concerned frown as you went.

In your room, you lay on your bed, gazing at the ceiling. There was a small spider making its way around the plaster of the ceiling rose, and for a moment you longed to trade places with it. No responsibilities, no clumsy accidents, no embarrassment or stress.

As you’re contemplating a nice little life as a spider, there’s a soft knock at the door, and then you hear Lockwood utter your name.

When you don’t reply, he adds, “Are you all right? We were worried.”

It’s on the tip of your tongue to ask if he means he was worried, but you decide not to read too much into it.

“Can I come in?” he says after a few moments.

“Okay.”

The door opens slowly, and he stands there in his shirt and tie and smart trousers. Purple socks today. He’s holding a tray with a steaming pot of tea on it, a little china milk jug, and two cups.

One of them, you note, is your favourite cup, shaped liked a cat with the handle fashioned as a tail.

That makes you smile, and you sit up.

Lockwood comes to the end of the bed and places the tray down.

“There’s the smile I wanted to see,” he says. “Can I sit?”

You nod, and he does, folding his long body next to the tea tray. 

He pours deftly, not a single drop wasted, and adds the amount of milk he knows you like, then offers you the cat cup. You watch his hands as he works, hoping he doesn’t know how often you’ve thought of them on you, how his rapier-calluses would feel on your skin. On your most sensitive places.

“Thanks,” you say instead.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?” he asks, his hazel eyes searching your face.

“Just a lot of little things getting on top of me. You don’t need to worry.”

He frowns. “But I do. You’re part of this team, and-” he cuts himself short and looks down into his cup of tea.

You reach forward and pat his thigh. “And what?”

He looks away as he adds, softly, “And more than that, you’re very important to me personally. So if you’re upset, in any way, I want to be here for you.”

You smile. “It’s admirable, that you care about your employees so much.”

Lockwood sighs, setting his cup down. “You know it’s more than that. Or, if you don’t know, it’s because I need more practice letting people in.” He holds your gaze as he sets the tray aside and moves up the bed towards you, making sure you’re okay with his proximity. “Do you want me to stay?”

“Yes,” you say, leaning into him as he sits next to you, and then he curls his arm around you, and you snuggle in, and he smells of earl grey tea and hot buttered crumpets, and home, and everything inside you unfurls, and the knot in your stomach relaxes.

“Just to check,” Lockwood says, resting his cheek on your hair, “There’s no one that needs to meet the sharp end of a rapier after today?”

You chuckle, sipping your tea. “Nothing like that.”

“Because if Kipps-”

“I swear, nothing like that.”

“Good. That’s good.” He stands up for a second and you worry he’s going to leave, but instead he grabs a thick blanket from where it’s slung over the foot of your bed and brings it over, sitting down again and tucking it around you both.

You snuggle back into him and he sighs, tugging you back against the headboard.

Through the window, the sun is setting, filling your room with blood orange and gold hues. Shadows spill on to Lockwood’s face, kissing his cheekbones and the set of his mouth, and he’s almost too beautiful to look at.

You sit there together for a long time, his arm around you, his cheek warm on your hair. You can feel his heart beating under your palm, and it’s a steady, sure sound. It makes you feel safe. Wanted. Loved.

At some point you realise, “Lockwood! Your tea’s gone cold.” The tray is still on the floor, where he put it earlier.

He shrugs. “I can always make another cup.”

This, from the boy who is all we only have so many teabags and one biscuit per agent, makes you melt a little bit. Especially when he adds, in that buttery smooth British accent, “I only have one priority at Portland Row right now, and it’s you.”

[onadarklingplain]

omg 24 galex………

24. tender

Alex is pretty sure he’s looking at a new cat. It can be hard to keep track sometimes, sure — twelve is a lot of cats. But he’s ninety percent sure none of their cats look like this one, a long and sleek looking tabby with distinctive markings along its cheeks, sharp-looking against its dark fur.

He had come into his bedroom with the noble intention of collapsing face down on his bed for just like, five minutes. He’s in a pissy, wound-up sort of mood, the kind where he’s ended up annoying even himself. It’s just that he’s so tired, holding onto his sanity by a thread – too many races in a row catching up to him, too many terrible sponsor commitments. Even now that he and George are back home, there’s more to do, emails to read, data to go over. He’s desperate for a mindless evening to just watch something horrible on telly, his feet in George’s lap.

And now on top of everything, an interloper.

He tries to kick his flagging brain into gear. The most obvious answer is that his mum had brought home a new cat. It was plausible, except for the fact that there hadn’t been an instagram post. There was always the possibility the little guy was a stray who had come in through the cat flap. Also plausible — except it looked so at home in Alex’s room, curled up on the bed. Like it belonged. It only takes a second before the cat notices him. It stands up with a stretch and comes right over, immediately winding its way between Alex’s legs, its little skull crashing into Alex’s ankles.  Alex couches down to scratch along its fur almost without thinking, on instinct. It leans into it, purring happily.

It’s such a needy little thing, he thinks. His heart belongs to Horsey, of course, but he feels oddly tender about the cat, the way it’s trying to worm its way into his lap now, the comforting weight of its little body. 

“Who are you then?” he asks softly. “You’re very pretty aren’t you?” He hopes the others are out of earshot — it’s the sort of nonsensical thing he always says to his cats, but Horsey is a jealous type.

He’s surprised when the little cat meows sharply back at him, like it had taken some offence. 

“Sorry,” Alex tells it. “I don’t know what you want. I don’t speak cat, I’m afraid.”

The cat meows strongly again and reaches up to put his little paws on Alex’s chest. 

It’s when he’s looking right into the cat’s steely blue eyes that he thinks, ridiculously, “George?”

He only realises that he’s said it out loud when the cat meows again in response, sounding happier. But that’s — it’s a fucking mad idea. It obviously isn’t real, he tells himself. He needs to get a grip. But the way the cat is purring as he scratches along its back, the way it arches into his touch as he brushes the soft fur between its ears… it isn’t helping.

Except, now that he thinks about it, he hasn’t seen George in hours. They had gone to separate parts of the house to work, but he’s being oddly quiet. He calls out cautiously, “George?”

He’s going to feel like such a twat when George comes through from the study. He’s going to have to come up with an excuse. Except George doesn’t come. The only reply is the cat butting more insistently into his hands. 

Okay… Okay. George might be a cat. That’s….. he can deal with this. 

“What the fuck happened, Georgie?” He bends down lower, so he can look him in the eye. It’s weird to see George’s intense gaze coming out of a cat’s face. “What are we going to do with you?”

George yawns widely, flashing all his little sharp teeth, and Alex feels a crashing wave of sympathy. 

“Are you tired, then?” He asks. “You must be — you’ve been through a lot today, huh? I bet you’r all tuckered out.”

George meows again, bossy.

“Okay, okay,” Alex says. “I get the message. But just a quick nap. Then we have to figure this out, okay?”

George squirms in his hands a little when Alex picks him up, but he starts purring again when he realises that Alex is carrying him to the bed. It takes a second before he settles against Alex’s chest — he fusses, kneading at Alex’s shirt in a way that makes Alex want to laugh, but he tries to keep his breathing steady. He doesn’t want to dislodge George, who is looking so content and cute, his eyes closed and his little face tucked right into his paws. 

He reaches up to run a hand between George’s ears again and lets his eyes close too. Just for a minute.

[allylikethecat]

i hate inflicting more pain onto him but you do "insecure matty comforted by g" so well, could we get a little snippet on him reacting to all the "twink death" posts on twitter 🥹

HELLO KIND ANON!

Thank you so much for going rogue and just like... sending me a prompt that wasn't on any kind of list. If anyone else wants to just... send me a prompt situation from the depths of their mind I am HERE and READY for it!

This little snippet ended up being 2k words and I'm not totally sure how that happened and I was going to try and cut it down some but then decided that this was my blog so I can do what I want and we are full send posting the entire thing. I'm not sure if this is what you are looking for, but here we are! Also I mean no offense to anyone with this one (Fictional!Matty per the prompt is upset about the Twink Death posts and it sends him spiraling about his relationship with fans and also fictional!George) and I hope you enjoy it! Also I 100% made up the twitter handle and I mean no offense if there is anyone out there with that handle.

Thank you so much and let me know what you think!

❤️Ally

Matty knew he wasn’t supposed to be on Twitter anymore. His therapist had told him so, George had told him so. Social media was a cesspool, it wasn’t real life, and it only ever served to bring him down. Matty knew he had an addictive personality, and a short attention span, so sometimes it felt like social media had been made just for him, projecting colorful, easily digestable, bite size bits of information right to his brain. (Rationally he knew that was the entire point of an algorithm but that didn’t mean it made him feel any less special.)

Scrolling through Twitter was like pressing on a bruise, he couldn’t help but love the sting even though it only hurt him. Whenever he went on Twitter he ended up doom scrolling until he sent himself into a depressive spiral, focusing on all the people who hated him and wanted him to overdose and die, which he then coped with by getting drunk and posting the wrong thing. 

Matty knew he wasn’t supposed to be on Twitter anymore, but George was distracted and Matty was too tired to even sleep and apparently a masochist as he settled onto the hotel bed and re-downloaded the app, a white X on a black background instead of the blue bird he had grown to love to hate. He logged in quickly with one of his many burner accounts, a ‘75 fan account that no one had even joking speculated was actually him. A tingling thrill of anticipation moved up his spine, not unlike the buzz he used to feel when he went out to score, as his feed loaded. He quickly glanced over at George guilty, who was still staring intently at his laptop, sitting at the hotel desk, headphones on, working on something. He felt like a little kid with his hand in the cookie jar, just asking to be caught and disciplined.

Confident that George wouldn’t be paying him any mind, at least for a little while, Matty began scrolling. There were fans proclaiming their love for him, and that they wanted to have his babies, invasive fan theories about him and Ross of all people that couldn’t be further from the truth, pictures of Taylor in Brazil, then more pictures of her pretending she gave a rat's arse about football. Sandwiched between a gif of a cat falling off of the counter and a tweet proclaiming Jack Antanoff a chaos gremlin Matty saw it.

He nearly scrolled past the two pictures posted side by side. If he was going to be naughty and looking through twitter, he was going to at least try and avoid too much of his own press, but he couldn’t help but stop. It was a picture of him from 2014, he was on stage, clutching a microphone and a cigarette in the same hand, his pale blue button down half unbuttoned and nearly slipping off his shoulder, his collar bone jutting out razor sharp. His curls were overgrown and unbrushed, falling around his face, a dark curtain he used to desperately hide behind. He had a vague memory of that day, at least he thought it might have been that day. He had been wearing that shirt the first time George kissed him for real. It had been the last time he had worn the shirt as well, the buttons hadn’t survived George’s eager hands. 

The other picture was from a few nights ago, a tight gray tee shirt clinging to his chest and biceps, the mustache he had grown back at George’s sheepish request twitched in amusement. He looked so much healthier in the second photo, and he was surprised to see it, surprised to see how stark the contrast was. He was pleased that the fans were seeing it too, that they were seeing how much work he had been putting into himself. He wasn’t hiding behind his hair anymore, hence the shorter curls. He was eating better, he was working out. He was trying not to drink as much, he was trying not to smoke as much. He was, after years of therapy, and a few hospital stays that he was happy never actually made it into the press, and more patience and support from George than Matty was sure he deserved, he was actually doing well. The new combination of medication was helping, even if he didn’t want to admit it. 

Then he saw the caption. Twink Death. He blinked. What did they mean, twink death. He was actively taking steps to better himself and healyslut69 was clearly being ridiculous, acting like a piece of him had died. He was the same person, he just wasn’t twenty five and addicted to smack anymore. Not that he had ever been a twink in the first place. He was a manly man, thank you very much. He clicked on the tweet, eager to scroll through the thread and see the replies calling out healyslut69 for being absolutely ridiculous. Twink Death, he scoffed, absolutely ridiculous. That was until he saw that all of the replies were in agreement with healyslut69. They were all mourning his alleged twink death.

He let out a little whine of frustration, then quickly glanced up from his phone to make sure George hadn’t heard him. Thankfully, George was still engrossed in whatever track he was working on, headphones on, clicking away. This is absolutely ridiculous, Matty thought, thumbing away from the thread to go back to his feed. This group of fans didn’t know what they were on about. He frowned as he saw another post relating to the topic, then another, and then another. He swallowed hard. Maybe healyslut69 wasn’t the one that was wrong. Maybe he was. 

He scrolled up, finding the original tweet once again. He looked at the two photos, bringing his phone up closer to his face to examine them as if he wasn’t looking at the face he saw in the mirror every morning. Maybe he didn’t look like the same person anymore. Maybe it was more than just getting clean, cutting his hair and gaining at least a stone. Maybe a piece of him really had died. He swallowed hard, his thick smoker’s saliva catching in his throat causing him to cough wetly. At that George did turn his head, lifting one of the headphones away from his ear. 

“You ‘right?” George asked, frowning, as he took in the look on Matty’s face. 

Matty quickly waved him off. “Yeah, just swallowed wrong,” he said, flashing George a thumbs up.

George frowned but turned back to his laptop anyway and Matty went back to his phone, clicking on the original tweet must have triggered something in his algorithm because he was suddenly bombarded with posts about how much he had changed, how much the fans wanted the “old Matty back” how they wanted to “Make Matty Gay again” as if he wasn’t in a fucking relationship with a man and had been for the past nine years. 

The more he read the more the self doubt started creeping in. It was slow at first, and he almost didn’t notice it. It was like frostbite, creeping through his body, overwhelming his senses without him even realizing until it was too late. He pressed the side button to lock his phone and tossed it onto the bed, where it proceeded to slide off the sheets and land on the floor with a clatter. He let out a groan of frustration and self pity, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes. He just couldn’t fucking win. 

“Okay,” said George, taking his headphones completely off and spinning around in the swivel chair to look at Matt, quickly glancing at his phone on the floor, then back to Matty. “What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing,” said Matty stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling ridiculous for even being upset that some faceless fan account was mourning his supposed “twink death,” even as his lower lip began to tremble. Fuck Matty though, unable to meet George’s gaze and the loving concern he knew he was going to see painted across his face. He was going to start crying. He froze, feeling like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over his head. What if George didn’t find him as attractive anymore, what if George missed how he used to look, all skinny and delicate, with long messy hair, sucking on a cigarette instead of eating breakfast, lunch or dinner. 

What if that was why their sex life had gotten less active as they got older. They still had plenty of sex, and Matty had always been satisfied, but what if that was the reason the shirt destroying urgency was gone, what if that was why George wasn’t tossing him onto the nearest surface at every opportunity anymore. Matty had thought they were just getting older, maturing, leveling out, but what if George just wasn’t as attracted to him anymore?! What if that was why George had wanted him to grow the mustache, what if he was trying to find some new way to make sleeping with him less of a chore. 

Matty couldn’t help it, he looked up, at kind, sweet, understanding and supportive George, who forced himself to fuck him even though he wasn’t attracted to him anymore, and instantly burst into the tears he had been fighting. 

George blinked in surprise, clearly he hadn’t been expecting that. He stood up, closing the distance between them as he sat down next to Matty on the bed, carefully pulling him into his arms even as Matty kept his hands pressed to his face. 

“What’s wrong, love,” said George softly, rubbing a large hand in careful circles against Matty’s back. “Did something happen? Is your family okay?” 

Guilt burned in Matty’s stomach, as he pressed his hand to his mouth as if he could push all the upset back inside of his chest, as if he could swallow it back down to his belly where it belonged. 

“They’re fine,” Matty said with a hiccup, “I’m fine, sorry, fuck, I’m fine,” he rubbed at his eyes, even as his breath hitched, “you can get back to work, I’m fine.” 

“Matthew,” said George softly, pulling Matty’s hands away from his face. “Something is clearly wrong, what can I do to help?” 

George’s kindness just made Matty cry harder, burying his face in George’s shoulder. He knew he was being extremely dramatic and over the top right now, crying because some fans on the internet were mourning his alleged “twink death” was ridiculous even for him. But it wasn’t just about the fans on the internet, it was hundreds of little things he had pushed down until he just couldn’t take it anymore and it all boiled over. He wasn’t sure he wanted to be famous anymore, he wasn’t sure he ever had. 

It was the fans that seemed to hate him always criticizing his outfit choices, the ones complaining about the set lists he painstakingly put together, the ones who complained that he didn’t talk enough during gigs, and the ones who complained when he did. It was the fans, and not fans, that took every word he had ever spoken ever, and twisted it round in circles until it didn’t even make sense anymore. It was the ones accusing him of being the worst person alive. It was the ones wishing death upon him and his loved ones. It was the way that no matter what he did, no matter how much of himself he gave to the masses, it was never enough and never what they wanted. He was just so fucking tired, and seeing that tweet broke something inside of him in a way that he hadn’t been expecting. It filled him with even more self loathing and doubt, why had he even bothered to get clean, why had he even bothered to try and get healthy, everyone liked him better strung out anyway it seemed. 

“Just some dumb fans on the internet,” said Matty quietly, trying to get his breathing under control, George was still rubbing his back soothingly.

“Matty,” said George sadly, his heart breaking. He wasn’t going to address the fact that they both already knew Matty wasn’t supposed to be looking at Twitter. 

“Do you,” said Matty, pulling away slightly, needing to hear the words straight from George’s mouth, needing to rip the bandaid off. If George didn’t like him like this he would figure it out. He’d lose the weight again, he’d grow out his hair. “Do you,” he swallowed hard, “do you still like me?” 

“What kind of absolute bullshit question is that?” George asked, “of course I like you Matty, I fucking love you.” 

Matty swallowed again, weighing his words. “Are you, are you still attracted to me?” 

“Jesus Christ Matty,” said George, “what is this about? Yes I’m very much still attracted to you, always have been and always will be.” 

“Even though I’m not as,” Matty could bring himself to say the word, “delicate anymore?” he asked instead. 

“What do you mean?” George asked not following along. Matty sighed and pulled away from George’s arms, leaning over the side of the bed to retrieve his phone. He unlocked it, keeping his eyes down cast as he handed it to George.

George frowned, looking over the tweet, a crinkle forming between his eyebrows. He relocked Matty’s phone without saying a word and reached over to set it on the nightstand. 

“I,” said George leaning in and pushing Matty onto his back so he could hover over him. “Love you.” He kissed Matty’s deeply, licking into his mouth, before nipping lightly on his lower lip. “And I will always love you and think you’re the sexiest man alive.” 

“Even though I’m not a twink anymore?” Matty couldn’t help but ask even as he felt George’s erection digging into his thigh. 

George snorted. “If anything, it’s even hotter that I don’t have to worry about hurting you.” 

Matty couldn’t help the grin that broke out across his face, and George couldn’t help but kiss it away. 

[anonymous-dentist]

The Egg doesn’t understand why he still wears his rings when he hasn’t spoken to either of his fiances in months. And maybe Sapnap is sentimental, but he always answers the same way. 

“If I take them off, then it’s really over,” he says, twisting Karl’s ring ‘round and ‘round with a wistful smile on his face. The ring is still warm like Karl was just holding it; it almost has a heartbeat that fills the silences between Sapnap’s own heartbeats. 

Back pressed to the Egg’s warm mass, Sapnap can almost pretend that Quackity is holding him. The Egg is soft enough. Warm enough. Gentle enough, with the way it combs its fingers through his hair with a soft, pitying coo. 

“But if I keep them on, then it’s a promise,” he continues, voice softening as he leans into the Egg’s comforting touch. His eyes flutter shut, a faint purr escaping his chest. His tail curls lazily into his lap. “I’ll get them back. It’s just taking longer than expected.”

Two years longer than expected. They were supposed to get married two years ago, but now Quackity is busy with his country and Karl is busy being freaking weird and Sapnap is busy trying to die. They’re all busy. So busy. 

He grunts as the Egg pulls just a bit too hard, displeased. 

“Yeah, well, not my fault he got me first,” Sapnap huffs. “But it’s only fair, right? I get Dream, and then I can get everyone else.”

The Egg grumbles. It doesn’t like Dream. He reminds it too much of XD for its liking, which Sapnap doesn’t really get. XD doesn’t look like Dream at all. The mask is off, the shoulders are too thin, the walk is too smooth. The Egg doesn’t like Dream, but Sapnap does, and he knows that Dream will like the Egg, and he knows that the Egg will like Dream. Who wouldn’t like Dream? 

Quackity’s face crosses Sapnap’s mind, painfully terrified as he paces the length of the church waiting for Dream and Eret and the knights to arrive. His lip was bleeding, he was biting it so hard, and his eyes were wild and frantic as they moved from his inventory to his communicator to Karl and Sapnap and George to the door back to his inventory.

Well. Quackity doesn’t have to like Dream. Sapnap doesn’t like Dream, either. Not usually. It’s just important that the Egg likes him. It’s… important. 

Sapnap yawns and stretches his limbs out like a cat. He’s been out too late. Karl is gonna get worried, especially when he hears that Sapnap spent all day in the Nether. 

But that requires Karl to actually give a shit about anyone but himself. So maybe Karl won’t get worried. Karl won’t even be there when Sapnap gets home. He’ll be gone, and it’ll be Sapnap collapsing into an empty bed, unable to sleep because he’s so cold. He’s cold blooded. He needs warmth. (He doesn’t remember being this cold before finding the Egg, but the months and years since the dethronement have kinda just bled together. Sapnap turned 21 this year, and the only ones at his party were himself and George’s unconscious body.) 

It’ll be cold in Kinoko. But… Las Nevadas is a desert, isn’t it? 

Fake, pops into his mind, disdainful. 

“So what?” Sapnap asks. He opens his eyes and stretches some more, joints popping. He cracks his neck. “At least it has central heating. Karl didn’t want any of that put into Kinoko when we were making it, did you know that? It’s all about the authenticity, or whatever. Fuck if I know.”

The Egg snorts. It doesn’t like Karl much, either. It says that he’s a pest. A cockroach in sheep’s clothing. This is one point that Sapnap and the Egg will never agree on. Karl might be a cockroach, but he’s Sapnap’s cockroach. He’s annoying, but he’s endearing. The Egg might not like him, but maybe the Egg is a little stupid sometimes. 

Sapnap staggers as he stands, a sharp pain shooting up his spine. He gasps and braces himself against the Egg’s side. 

No, the Egg isn’t stupid. It just has different tastes in men. It likes its men furry. 

“Of course you’d be a furry,” Sapnap breathes, looking up at the Egg with a teasing grin. 

The Egg impassively stares down at him. 

“Nothing wrong with that,” Sapnap says. He pats the Egg. “I think Quackity is a furry. Or, uh, whatever the bird version of that is.”

The Egg says nothing. It doesn’t like birds, either. It doesn’t like a lot of things. 

The Egg doesn’t like a lot of things, but it loves. It wraps itself around Sapnap’s heart as he turns to leave and squeezes a hug goodbye. 

Soon, it promises, and Sapnap turns his rings around his finger as he walks away. 

Soon, indeed. 

[mushiewrites]

Yo, I've got a lee!George concept for you

So you know how George will be toxic af and then not understand why the other person is upset? Well, one of the days when he was picking on Sapnap, perhaps he went a little too far on a rough day and Sapnap just stands up, goes to Dream’s room and locks the door behind him. He rants to Dream about what happened and Dream (sweet baby) gives him the comfort and reassurance he needs. Once Sapnap is calmer, Dream goes to find George and tells him that what he said wasn't ok and he really hurt Sapnap's feelings. George, now feeling bad goes and lays in Sapnap’s bed to wait for him to come back so he can apologize. When Sapnap does come back, he comes back with Dream so George pretends to be asleep. They obviously don't believe him and Sapnap makes a motion and Dream holds down his elbows as Sapnap knuckles his ribs, demanding an apology and a reason as to why he's in his bed

firstly……the knuckles thing really is messing me up that’s so incredibly Mean my brain can’t focus…..anyways…

lee!george....my baby....my angel....my darling tiny cat dork ): the idea that george made sap sad makes me wanna jump through my phone and wreck george myself ):<

okay so after dream tells george that he really did hurt saps feelings and that he needs to be more careful about the things he says, he genuinely feels a little bad and wants to make sure sapnap knows he’s always just messing around. so when he goes to saps room and he’s not there, he lies on the bed and waits for him to come back

he actually almost does fall asleep waiting for sapnap because he didn’t anticipate he’d be there for so long when he finally hears footsteps coming down the hallway towards the door. he was about to sit up with eyes open when he hears dreams voice too and he gets a lil nervy and lays right back down, eyes closed and trying to calm his breathing so it looks like he genuinely is asleep

george is met with silence, and then all the sudden his wrists are pinned by his head and his eyes shoot open and dreams face is upside down above him, standing over him and smirking and giggling in his face. he goes to say something to dream when george suddenly feels knuckles rubbing up and down both sides of his rib cage and he jolts like he just got fucking electrocuted bc he wasn’t expecting it to tk so bad so fast

dream and sapnap are demanding he apologize, demand to know why he’s in sapnaps room, and george is trying to answer the questions, he really is! except the way sapnap is digging his knuckles into the middle of his ribs, focusing a bit towards the back, and he it tks so fucking bad he couldn’t explain or apologize if he wanted to

george has tears in his eyes and eventually they fall down his cheeks and to the side the more he shakes his head and tries to beg sapnap to stop. he’s trying to get the apology out, because he genuinely does feel bad and wants to say sorry to sap but they won’t. stop. tkling him!!!! eventually dream gets the hint and tells sap to slow down, finally switching to light skitters instead of knuckling.

he gets out a quiet little “ihihihi’m sohohohorry!” through his squeaky giggles and sapnap and dream can’t help but melt bc how fucking CUTE was that???? so sap just pulls george into the tightest hug (he makes a pathetic attempt at pretending to be annoyed but immediately melts into saps arms) and dream gets into the bed too, squishing george between them.

george’s shirt is lifted up, sap looking at the pink skin of where he knuckled his ribs and starting to rub his hands over them to soothe him. dreams speaking softly in george’s ear thanking him for apologizing to sapnap while george is just completely spaced out, a hand finding it’s way to saps curls and wrapping his pointer finger around one just bc george finds it comforting. george would whine at the praise and the soothing rubs at his ribs and fling himself forward into saps neck, letting out a deep sigh and finally letting himself melt into the cuddles. dream would push up more behind him, throwing an arm over george so that his hand can wrest against saps back. george is so tired that he falls asleep almost immediately with sap and dream following a few minutes later.

(my brain has been so focused on sleepy dream team cuddle piles lately okay no one judge me.)

[scenetocause]

i think about genders george and his lando and the pygmy goats that look like Lando and his chickens and their baby and sourdough bread Ocado order DAILY

that whole series is chicken noodle soup for the soul 🍜 they’re just so warm and tender with each other, but it feels real too and it’s just the loveliest thing

i also want need to know… do they make a little vegetable plot and grow runner beans and baby carrots and strawberries? (until the goats demolish it and they have to start again) 🍓

oh man i have like, an embarrassingly self-indulgent number of headcanons for both genders george and accidentally dads, as universes.

genders george and lando definitely have a vegetable patch or rather, start a vegetable patch between once and three times a year and never manage to keep it going. they briefly try to make cheese from the pygmy goats' milk but it goes disastrously and makes the shed smell really horrible for six months so they end up just giving it to the local gastropub.

when lando retires he's like alright i'm gonna do this all right this time, no f1 to worry about. the shed smells horrible again and the vegetable patch has its shortest run of viability. but they do end up with some potatoes a few months later that they're very proud of when they take them to george's mum for a roast.

when the baby learns to crawl and then toddle she chases the goats and lando writes a children's book about goat racing. he does all the illustrations himself, drawing in the back of the garage while george is in the car, lella napping or distracted by the whirl of people around them and all the noises. he has to go on the one show again to promote it only this time he doesn't have george with him and george gets the first crying/panicking/anxiety attack call he's had from lando for ten years, afterwards.

they don't intend to grow raspberries but seb told them they should let part of their garden go wild and the canes just grew. lando eats them straight off the stalks but george finds out making jam is just following a strict procedure, really and there's nothing he likes more than eating toasted sourdough, with pygmy goat butter and his raspberry jam, watching cartoons on the sofa with lella on a rare saturday morning off. lando curls up and dozes next to them and george gets the opportunity to ogle him, soft all over now but still strong and so hot, so much george's.

alex the cat dotes on lella and when his long, toothless life draws to a close, it's five-year-old lella comforting george and lando. they don't mean to get another cat because it was too sad but then they're in jeddah one year and there's this mangy thing that lando picks up and feeds and takes to the vet and george can't find it in him to say no, so they have alex the second. who's a girl and much more chill than the first alex but still sleeps curled up in lella's bed like she's protecting her.

man, self indulgent universe lore! it's the good stuff.

[mcyt-peach]

Could I pls request mcyt x reader with needle phobia? Just loads of comfort when they have to go gey a vaccine bc panic attack ect and maybe more comfort afterwards bc next few days of side effects am I right... they/them pronouns pls and I'd love it if u could do wilbur and ranboo as well as any others u want

Tysm

mcyt with an s/o who's afraid of needles

⋆｡˚ summary: today you're getting a shot, so you bring along someone to comfort you through one of your worst fears

⋆｡˚ including: cc!wilbur, cc!george, cc!niki and cc!punz

⋆｡˚ warnings: needles, injections, reader uses she/her pronouns, brief mentions of panic attacks and crying

⋆｡˚ note: I know when you requested this I had Ranboo on my "will write for" list but I was recently updated on his boundaries so he isn't included, sorry :( let me know if you want anyone else added

Wilbur

he is unbelievably understanding of your fears

some people think certain phobias are silly, but Wilbur does the best job of simultaneously calming you down while making sure you feel validated for your feelings

Wilbur’s no stranger to mental health issues and has many coping mechanisms that he’ll go over with you before you even see the doctor

he makes sure you breathe out when you get the shot, so your muscles relax and the injection causes less damage

when the doctor leaves the room and the two of you have some time to yourselves, he runs through your checklist

“Y/n, darling, can you tell me five things you can see?”

he keeps his voice calm, so you can unconsciously follow his breathing pattern

“That’s great love. What about four things you can touch?”

he’s so, so encouraging to you, just working on calming you down and showing you that you’re ok no matter your worry

George

George may not be the most understanding about why you’re afraid of needles, but he knows everyone has their own worries

but if we’re being honest, George was definitely the type of kid to get scared of the doctors office

so while he might have grown out of his fear, he knows that support is what will help you most

he’s mostly a quiet supporter, just sitting by you and letting you squeeze his hand as hard as you need, not complaining even when it feels like you’re breaking his hand

at home, he feels much more confident about taking care of you

all the words he felt embarrassed to say in public come flooding out, albeit in a gentle, soothing tone

“You did so well, my love. M’so proud of you. You we’re so brave.”

he’ll have you lie down on top of him on the couch, keeping your arm from getting pushed into the cushions

sporadic forehead kisses and soft massages to relax your muscles are just what you need after a stressful day, and George is more than happy to deliver that

Niki

you couldn’t imagine anyone better to help comfort you

Niki just wants to make sure you’re as comfortable as possible before, during and after the shot

as someone who cries when stressed, Niki is totally considerate if you freak out while getting the shot

she’ll sit with you in the car afterwards, not passing any judgement, just letting you get all the stress out that you’ve been bottling up

fluffy activities are mandatory for the rest of the day

she basically barcades you and her in bed, insisting on taking care of you for the rest of the day

but not before she brings the cats into the room of course

“Y/nnn, you’ve got some cute little visitors who want to cheer you up!”

she’ll load up one of your favorite comfort movies on her laptop and crawl into bed with you for a movie night

she knows that it won’t make all the stress of the day disappear, but you best believe she’s gonna get at least one smile out of you before the day ends

Punz

Punz may talk a lot of smack, but he really truly hates seeing you in pain

so, even if he’s not perfect at comforting you in the moment, he’ll try his best

he’ll let you curl up into his arm while the injection’s being prepared and your arm is being sanitized

he’d totally stare down the doctor giving you a shot

like he doesn’t even mean to, he just gets overprotective seeing someone cause you pain

if you get any weird looks for your reaction, he’s calmly quieting you and then sending an even harsher death stare their way

he all but tells the doctor to beat it after the shot and lets you cry into his shoulder and won’t let you leave the room until you feel better

when you get home, he’ll dress you up in something big and soft, so the fabric won’t bother the injection site

sure there’s a chance you’ll see the bandaid and spiral again, but he does a good job of keeping you grounded while you’re changing

“Baby, arms up. No, no, don’t look at it. Just let me take care of you.”

[lucy90712]

morning sickness (pregnancy series)

⚠️emetophobia warning⚠️ a/n: sorry for the lack of posts I’ve been away with awful WiFi 

Series masterlist

George:

The sickness throughout the first part of my pregnancy has been awful and has lasted all of the first trimester and into the second trimester. Every morning I wake up feeling so nauseous and throw up most days not really for any real reason. George has been so good and will try his best to take care of me.

This morning I woke up feeling extra nauseous from the second I opened my eyes so I knew it would be a bad day which happens sometimes but it isn't any fun thats for sure. I felt so awful that I couldn't move but at the same time I really needed to try and eat and drink something to make me feel a little better which is a constant battle that I have with myself.

I stayed in bed until the nausea took over and I had to quickly move George's arm off me so that I could run to the bathroom. I threw up more than I ever thought I could before resting against the sink to regain some composure even though I still felt awful. I threw up again before George came in still half asleep but concerned.

"Are you doing ok?" He asked even though he knew the answer

"Not really" I replied

"How many times have you been sick?" He asked

"Two so far" I answered

He got down on the floor with me and rubbed my back for a minute before going to go and get water for me to sip like he always does. I rested my head on his shoulder and just let him hold me which was the only thing that seemed to help me feel a little better.

When I recovered a little bit we went downstairs so that I could try and eat something but as soon as we got to the kitchen just the smell of the cat made all the nausea come flooding back so I went right back to the bathroom and threw up again. It's is going to be one of those awful days again.

Dream:

I have been so lucky that I haven't really felt too nauseous but there are some days especially at the moment where I feel quick sick. On one of those days like today I normally stay in bed or on the sofa doing nothing under strict orders from Clay who won't let me push myself too far because he wants me to take care fo myself.

This morning I curled up to Clay while he was still asleep because I was feeling pretty bad and he makes me feel better even if its all in my head. He woke up as I moved closer to him and looked at me to see what I was doing.

"You ok there?" He asked

"I feel sick" I replied

"Do you think you are going to throw up or just feel sick?" He asked

"I probably won't throw up but I feel pretty bad" I said

That was enough for him and he lifted me up carrying me to the living room and putting me down on the sofa before going to the kitchen where he came back with water. Which he gave me as he got on the sofa behind he so that he could cuddle me.

We spent the whole day cuddled together on the sofa watching films and Clay cancelled his plans for the day or pushed them back until this evening so that he could take care of me.

Sapnap:

I have struggled so much with sickness throughout the pregnancy so far an not even just nausea I throw up multiple times a day. It's awful and just so exhausting but I can't sleep because I feel so sick which is just the worst endless cycle. Sapnap tries his best to help me and be there for me but he hates watching people throw up which I understand but he is there for me when I'm not throwing up.

This morning I was doing pretty good and hadn't thrown up yet and I've been up for about 45 minutes which is quite unusual for me I have even made myself some breakfast which normally makes me throw up but maybe I'm slowly getting over this sickness. I went to wash the dishes but as soon as I got the washing up liquid open the smell sent me right back to my constant state of sickness.

I ran to the bathroom and threw up all the breakfast I just ate and more which just doesn't seem possible but somehow it is. Sapnap came into the bathroom after watching me run from the kitchen he knew what was happening but he had heard me saying only minutes prior that I felt better today so he knew I would be upset.

"Oh babe I'm sorry" he said sitting down and rub my back

"Why do I have to be sick all the time why can't I just feel better" I sobbed

"I don't know but what I do know is that you are doing such a good job at coping with it and being strong I could never live with this but here you are" he comforted

Sapnap sat with me the rest of the day even when I was throwing up because he knew it was just one of those days where I was really feeling it and he cared more about making me feel better then having to watch me throw up.

Quackity:

I have been so lucky with my pregnancy that I really haven't had any sickness at all I mean sometimes some things will make me feel nauseous but never very bad at all but for some reason today that has changed and I woke up feeling really sick for no apparent reason. I tried getting up to see if getting up and getting on with things would help the sickness to subside but it really didn't at all work if anything I felt worse.

Nothing is helping this sickness either. I have tried everything that google or other people recommend but it isn't helping. Alex has been trying to help too by distracting me to take the edge off which is sweet of him but it wasn't helping a whole lot. He gathered that distractions weren't going to work and so he made me go back to bed so that we could cuddle and watch a movie.

"Just relax love we can have a lazy day and forget about everything else I just want you to feel better" he said

"Thank you Alex but you can leave me if you have something to do" I said

All he did was shake his head and hold onto be tighter which gave me my answer to if he was going to leave me.

Karl:

It's been a bit up and down throughout my pregnancy in term of sickness, some days I feel quite sick and others I'm fine and it doesn't really have a pattern it just really depends on the day. Today happens to be one of the days that I don't feel great after going a good week and a half of feeling good.

Karl got up with me this morning to make breakfast for the both of us as well as get me the things that usually make me feel a little better which I have discovered after trying about a million things on the days I was feeling extra bad. He gave me sprite and tic tacs because both of those things work for me which I had while he ate breakfast while mine was on the side away from me so the smell didn't make me feel worse.

For the whole day Karl was so attentive and barely left my side so that he could take care of me and when he did have to go somewhere he took me with him so that he wasn't far from me at all times.

Wilbur:

I haven't really felt sick since before I found out about the pregnancy which has been so nice and I know I'm very lucky because a lot of people feel very sick for quite a long time. I have been able to eat all the things I normally would without anything making me feel ill which has made me very happy.

Tonight I'm making dinner for Wilbur and I and I had a tomato which I was cutting up and for some reason it made me feel very sick all of a sudden. I tried to keep going hoping it would go away but it got worse and I felt like I was going to throw up. I ran out of the kitchen and to the bathroom only just making it before I threw up.

Wilbur came into the bathroom seconds later and pulled my hair out of my face and rubbed my back until I was done. He got me some water and let me brush my teeth before picking me up and putting me on the sofa to sit down while he finished making dinner for us. It was weird because I could eat the tomato but the smell of preparing it was too much but it was kind of worth it because the meal was very nice.

From then on Wilbur said he was going to make dinner to avoid that happening again because he knows how much I hate throwing up and he didn't want me to if there was something he could do about it.

[talesofstyles]

Reconcile II

Ok so I know that I wrote the first part with reader insert, but after many, many attempts to keep it that way, it just didn’t work with this one. So I’d like for you to meet Emma. This is my first time writing with OC and wow game changer. I love her and I hope you do too!

Also, I honestly can’t thank my beta queens enough @oh-honey-styles @for-fucks-sake-h 🥺💛 thanks for allll the comments and suggestions and nice words!!! ily both xx

Read part I here

Harry

“So… are we okay now?”

We’re sitting here on the sofa, finally having that very much needed father-daughter date. Granted, a movie night in was not what I had in mind. I wasn’t too thrilled when she said she wanted to just go back home after we dropped George at his classmate’s house for a birthday sleepover. I thought she would hole up in her room instead and ignore me. But she didn’t. I got us pizza for tea, and we’ve got Shrek 2 on the telly. Her animosity towards me disappeared just like that after she asked for a puppy the other day. Of course, I’m glad to have my happy-go-lucky daughter back, but deep down I know that we need to have a proper chat. The change in her behaviour is so abrupt that I know there’s a chance that my daughter is still bitter with me deep down. And that won’t do. I can take a lot of things, but my daughter’s resentment is not one of them.

“Yeah, we’re okay,” she nods as she takes a bite of her pizza. “You’re still getting me a puppy right?”

“I still need to talk to your mum about it, poppet,” I tell her. “Puppies need a lot of attention. It’s going to be hard work and that puppy is going to be a permanent member of our family. We’ve really got to think about it before we decide.”

I expect a little excitement knowing that her mum and I are really considering getting a puppy. But what I get is quite the opposite. My little girl’s gaze drops, her face slackening. Her voice cracks a little when she mumbles, “except… we’re not a family.”

I wince, realising how serious the effect our split has on my daughter. Despite Emma and I putting on a friendly, united front for our children, Minnie is still sad that her parents are not together. 

“Of course we’re still a family,” I assure her, pulling her to me for a comforting side hug. “I’m still your dad, mummy is still your mum, and you and George are still the lights of our lives.” 

“But you and mummy aren’t together anymore,” she points out bitterly. “And you live so far away from us now. I miss having you at home.”

“I know, my love,” I murmur gently, and turn sideways so she can see my face. “It’s killing me too. But you never know what the future holds, right?”

“I guess,” she says glumly.

I wish I can tell her that I’m trying to win her mum back so we can be together again, but I know I can’t do that. This is far too early. I don’t want to get her hopes up in case I’m not successful in convincing my wife to give me another shot. That’ll only break her heart all over again.

Thinking back, I realised that this is the first time we have a proper chat about our split. I fled to LA the next morning after my wife asked me to leave our marital home back in London, leaving her to sit down with our children to tell them that I was not going to live there anymore. I was shocked and angry because I had no idea what I’d done. I thought we were fine. There were no fights leading up to that. I still remember exactly what I told her. ‘You’re the one who wanted to end it, you tell them.’ And then I left.

Just like that. Without a fight.

I swear to God, it’s something that I would never be able to forgive myself. 

“How’s your mum?” 

“She’s sad,” Minnie sighs. “She cries a lot. She thinks we can’t hear her in the shower, but we can.”

Knowing I caused that physically hurts. I rub at the throb of pain behind my breastbone and I think about all those private tears I shed through it. The ones you hope are hidden and silent.

“Can I ask you something, daddy?”

“Anything, poppet.”

“Do you still get sad too?”

I’m not sure how much to divulge here. Does my daughter need to hear that I stopped eating? That I once cried in the loo at Cafe Habana, and once had to be fished out of a bath by Jeff after I turned into a human prune? I was sad. I still wear that hat. 

“I do. It’s the end of something, that’s always sad.”

“I think mum is dating someone,” she says and my eyes widen. “She told us Luke is her friend, but I think he’s her boyfriend. They’re on a date now, aren’t they?”

I can try and deny it, but I know my daughter is smart and won’t buy anything I tell her.

“What do you know about boyfriends?” I tease, my attempt to lighten up the mood. 

“I’ve just turned nine, I’m not stupid,” Minnie rolls her eyes. “‘Sides I’m thinking about getting one of those boyfriend thingies.”

I sit there slack-jawed, and my daughter roars with laughter.

“Minnie Alexandra, you’re going to drive me to an early grave, you know that?”

“Hey, what are you middle naming me for? I was joking!” She says, still laughing as she picks a piece of pepperoni off her pizza.

“How do you feel about your mum dating again?” I ask her.

She pauses. “I don’t know yet. As long as he’s nice and doesn’t put me under the stairs…”

“I’m sure he won’t. In the attic maybe,” I joke.

She laughs again. I’m thinking about keeping that bloke in the attic so my wife won’t date him anymore. Or even better, six feet under my patio. That’ll do.

“It’s gonna be okay, right, dad?”

Honestly, I’m not sure. But I don’t have the heart to tell her that.

“Yeah, Min. It’s gonna be okay.”

***

I see the headlight shining into the front windows as I walk down the stairs from tucking my daughter into her bed. That must be Emma and her date. I pull back the curtain a little to peek outside, and I’m right as I see that bollockface’s car in front of the house. 

You know that saying; curiosity killed the cat? Well, in my case, curiosity fucked me with a chainsaw. 

I’m a bloody idiot. I should have just closed the curtain back as soon as I recognised the car. I mean… it’s the end of a date. What did I expect to see? A high five? I knew I was so sure when they left that he would not be getting anything more than a friendly kiss, but that date must have gone really well, because right now, my eyes may as well fall out of their sockets as I see that bastard’s tongue down my wife’s throat. 

I’m frozen. I’m gripping the curtain so tight that my knuckles are turning white. I stand there—stunned. Watching. I’m not even sure for how long. It does feel like forever. Like an eternity. 

In hell.

And then Emma pulls back, and everything seems like a blur. I have to remind myself that my daughter is sleeping upstairs so I won’t go apeshit and knock that wanker square on his arse. 

I’m still glued to the floor by the door. I’m too shocked to move. I hear the sound of keys rattling before the door swings open, and she looks surprised when she sees me.

And all hell breaks loose.

“What the fuck, Emma?!” She jolts at hearing me shout. I rarely did it. In fact, I’m not even sure if I’d ever yell at my wife before throughout our marriage. “You told me last night you’d never even kissed him. You told me you weren’t ready.”

“I- I don’t know. He caught me off guard. That was-”

“I told you I wanted to make this work,” I remind her, trying to lower my voice so I won’t wake my daughter up. She doesn’t need to see this. “Us. Our marriage. I told you I wanted to fight for you. But I can’t do that with someone shoving their tongue down my wife’s throat, can I?”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I see her tear up and I immediately feel regret. That was harsh. But before I can apologise, I can see her lip curls up and I know she’s about to get nasty. It’s a rarity with her when we’ve fought in the past, but I feel it coming.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?” She sneers. “You think that if you put a toy down, it’ll still be sitting there when you want to play with it again.”

“That’s-”

“You have no right to be upset at me. We’ve split up for nearly a year now. What I do and what I don’t do on my dates is none of your business.” 

“I want us to give our marriage another shot,” I say in exasperation. “I want to try to win you back, but fuck’s sake you’re not even giving me the time of day.”

“Oh, look how the tables turned,” she taunts. “Sucks, innit? Being the one struggling to find the time when it seems like the other doesn’t give a crap?”

“Cheap shot, Ems,” I retort.

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it, H?” 

Emma averts her eyes, her lower lip quivering. I can’t tell if she regrets her harsh words or not, but she doesn’t look back my way, and she seems to have said her piece.

I knew sooner or later this was bound to happen. We never had our big fight, not even that night when she decided that enough was enough.

“I cannot possibly go through that again. It physically hurts,” she says softly. “I know I was the one who ended it, but when you just left like that the next morning without so much of a fight as if ten years means nothing to you… that really did hurt. You left me alone to talk to the kids about what happened. And sure, you did call every day. But it took you nearly nine months to finally come and see your children?”

“I needed some time. Some space,” I tell her. “Do you think it’s easy for me being there? Away from my wife and kids?”

“You chose to be there.”

“You know I couldn’t stay in London,” I murmur. “It’s too hard. At least in LA sometimes I can just pretend that everything’s okay. That we’re okay. That my wife and kids will be there waiting for me when I get home. I can’t do that in London.”

“That’s a shit excuse and you know it,” she mutters.

“I still love you, Em,” I say with a sigh. I know trying to defend myself further for what I did will get me nowhere. “We can fix this. We can be a family again.”

“Harry, it’s too late.”

“Is it him?” I can’t help but go there, because that’s a possibility. “Do you love him already?”

“Luke is a fresh start for me, H. I may not love him now but at least it doesn’t hurt looking at him. It took me months to be able to get back up again, to get to where I am right now. To finally find a little bit of peace.”

Emma’s head hangs low, and she rubs at her temple with her fingers. I want nothing more than to pull her into my arms. But by how stiff her spine is, I can tell she wouldn’t come willingly. 

“I’m sorry, Emma,” I whisper, resigned. Tears well up in our eyes. There’s nothing I can say that will change her mind because we’re not seeing eye to eye. She’s still focused on the past, not that I blame her because I did hurt her badly, but I know that there is no way we can go anywhere if she can’t see past the harms I’ve caused in the past.  “I hope one day you’ll be able to forgive me.”

“I’ve forgiven you a long time ago,” she says, her expression softens. Her thumb runs at a part of her finger where a ring used to be. “Now, I just want us to try and make this separation work. Focus on the kids. Let’s do the right thing by them.”

I nod.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“When did it all start?” I ask, my voice cracks a little. “When did you start feeling like you’re invisible to me?”

“I’m not sure I can point down to one exact moment,” she takes a shaky breath and pauses. “The change was gradual that by the time I realised it, I didn’t even recognise us anymore. I spent days and nights wondering what happened to us. That wasn’t us.”

I wipe that one tear running halfway down her cheek, and as soon as my thumb touches her skin, I lose it. I can’t help it by this point. Tears flow as much as I try to hold them back. She’s crying too. This is painful. 

“And it’d be too easy to say that I felt invisible,” she continues. “Because the truth is, I felt painfully visible. You ignored me on purpose. I wasn’t even sure what I was to you anymore, because the only chance for me to get your attention was by getting you in bed. And that was wrong. It hurts, because it felt like you only needed me to warm your bed.”

I want to deny that statement. I want to yell it’s not true. That I never intended to take her for granted. That she still makes my heart skip a beat like a bloody teenager seeing his first crush. 

But I don’t.

Because she’s right. I’m not sure what happened either, but we’d changed. Maybe it’s our jobs, maybe it’s the endless responsibilities. Domesticity, children, they wore us down. Kisses became perfunctory. Hugs became less frequent. Hell, I couldn’t even remember the last time I took my wife for a date night other than for social obligations.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her again. I’ll spend the rest of my life apologising to her if I have to, she deserves it. “I hurt you badly. I really am sorry, Emma.”

“It wasn’t all you though,” she mumbles. “I never called you out on it.”

“You didn’t,” I reply. “I never worked out why?”

“I swept it under the carpet because it was embarrassing. It felt silly having to ask for your attention. And I don’t know… pride, maybe? And the kids. I didn’t want them to know something was wrong. So I played along and carried on like nothing was happening.”

“When really…”

“It was like a punch to the guts each time. You were an excellent father. You still are, the kids adore you. This may sound insane and it’s embarrassing and painful for me to admit this, but there were times when I saw you with the kids and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. When you couldn’t even be bothered to look at me… it felt like you took a dump over all my love for you.”

“Emma…”

“I wish I could get past that. I wish I could just forget what happened and trust you again.” 

I bring her in for a hug and say nothing. She needs to get this all out. This is part of the process, and I’m here to listen. 

But where do we go from there?

Reconciling a broken marriage is tricky. I am not a violent person but I have never wanted to strangle people as much as I want to strangle those who wrote articles with countless advice regarding this subject, making it seem like it’s easy. Talk it out, get your point across, and you’re out of the dog house. Well, you know what, bollockface? It turns out that listening is not enough. Sod you and your dumb articles. 

All I know is that I can’t rush this. She’s not ready, and that’s okay. Right now, we both have things to work on. She needs to learn to let go of her resentment, and I have to learn not to take anything and anyone for granted ever again. This is killing me, but there is no one to blame but myself. I take solace in knowing the fact that I don’t know what’s going to happen in the future. Maybe one day we’ll be back together. Maybe we won’t. 

“Thank you for telling me all that,” I mumble against her hair. 

“Thank you for listening,” she looks up and gives me a sad smile.

***

Emma comes from a big family. 

There’s Jamie, her eldest brother and the only guy. I think the fact that he grew up surrounded by sisters was what made us the closest in the first place. He hates wine, even though he makes a career out of managing his own vineyard. I know, the irony. The next is Suze, sister number one who lives in Sheffield with her husband and three girls. Suze and her husband are both orthopaedic surgeons. Then my wife, the middle child. Then Meg, sister number two who just had a baby. It’s another girl so my George is still the only grandson in the family. And then Lucy, the youngest of the clan who’s still in university. 

They all live nearby, and I knew that all my in-laws hated me a tiny bit for taking their daughter and sister away. They were a hard outfit to infiltrate. You don’t enter into a relationship with one of them, you get a whole gaggle of them. It was hard to get in, but once you’re in, you’re in for life. 

After we’d split, I called my parents-in-law the next morning just before my flight to LA. I wasn’t sure whether or not Emma had told them about what happened, but I felt like it was the right thing to do. After all, they’d become my parents too for a decade. So I explained and apologised. Of course, I didn’t tell them the details because I knew they were between Emma and me, and they respected us enough not to ask. They were upset, but they also understood that these things happen in life. All they wanted was just for their grandbabies to come out of this unscathed. 

Now here I am, walking behind Emma and our children as we step over the threshold into her parents’ home for their monthly roast. Her parents invited me and I accepted. I don’t want to turn down any extra time I have with my kids as I’ve decided to leave today and head back to London. I was prepared to stay longer, take some time off work and fight for my marriage, but since it all has gone to pot, I figured I should leave. The world doesn’t stop even when you’re struggling with marital woes. I’ve got work to do, and I also know that it is best to give Emma space. 

I hear voices as we walk inside.

“If littl’uns are going in highchairs then what’s that extra space for?” I hear Meg’s husband say.

Meg tells him. “Count again, addition was never your strong point.”

“Oh.”

The house is suddenly quiet when they see me. This is my first time seeing the whole family again after we split, and even though my parents-in-law and I are on good terms, and Jamie too, I know the sisters would be a different story. All four of them are beyond close and they’re now looking at me as if they should’ve chucked me in the oven instead of the chicken.

You don’t do that to our sister. You hurt one, you hurt all of us. 

“Uncle Harry!” Freya shouts in excitement. She is one of Suze’s daughters. She and her twin sister Tessa are only a few months older than my George.

Suze, who is sitting on the sofa, looks a bit sullen, not knowing what the right call is to make. Meg and her husband freeze. 

“Alright there, mate?” Jamie greets me, trying to ease the tension. Suze glares at him.

“Are you here to do magic then, Uncle Harry?” Tessa asks. 

I bend down to her level. “Not sure I know any magic, Tessie.”

“Yeah you do!” Freya pipes up. “Because when we were driving here, daddy said you did a disappearing act on Aunty Ems. Show us what you did!”

“FREYA!” Her dad barks.

Meg can barely contain her giggles.

“But we like magic. You’re rubbish at magic,” she says to her dad. He widens his eyes. 

The sisters are now all smiling smugly, knowing a couple of six-year-olds just shamed me on their behalf. Extra roast potatoes for those two.

Lucy, the littlest sister, suddenly enters. That’s definitely not a happy face. “Oh, it’s you. Is that why everyone went so quiet? What are you doing here?”

“Luce,” Emma mutters.

“Because I invited him,” says a voice emerging from the kitchen. My father-in-law. “Harry, glad you could make it.”

“Of course,” I reply. “Thanks for the invitation.”

Lucy stares daggers at her dad, knowing she can’t unleash her trademark rapier wit as she’s surrounded by her little nieces and nephews. That one may be the youngest but she’s the scariest out of all the sisters, my wife included.

“Look, if it’s weird, I can just leave?” I offer.

“Nonsense, you must stay for supper,” Emma’s mum replies.

“Yeah, Harry, stay,” says Emma’s dad, staring at his daughters. “I want you lot to be nice. Otherwise, I’m putting you on the kids table. You hear me?”

The three of them nod in unison. 

“You two look well,” I say, my attempt to make small talk. 

“You know, dad’s been singing this morning,” Emma’s mum chirps, tilting her head towards her husband. “He joined a male choir. They think they’re Westlife.”

We all can’t help but laugh. This is classic mum. The tension seems to ease away. 

Let’s just hope it stays that way.

***

There’s a strange feeling of déjà vu as I take a seat on the steps in front of the cottage. 

I’m all packed up and ready to go. My weekender bag is in the boot of my car. Nothing left to do but say goodbye to my wife and kids, but I don’t go straight inside. 

Not yet. I need a moment.

These steps witnessed a lot of our marriage even though we’d never stayed here for longer than a couple of weeks at a time. We loved to sit out here in the summer. I remember when I first brought my stuff here shortly after we got married, we sat out here with beers, sleeves rolled up, boxes stacked into Jenga-style columns. 

I also remember sitting here last year on Christmas morning. Emma and I were both in our pyjamas and slippers, sipping coffees out of our matching Christmas mugs. We watched the kids ride their new scooters up and down the street. Everything was perfect. I had no idea that my marriage would end in just two months after that.

“Harry?”

I look over my shoulder and I urge her to sit beside me. She comes over and does just that. There is silence. We don’t say a word to each other. A quiet hum of traffic in the distance, puffs of breath cloud the air making me think we should both be wearing coats. Christmas is nearly here again. My heart aches at the thought of this being our first Christmas since everything fell apart.

“I’m sorry,” she says softly.

“I should be the one apologising, Em.”

“I know you wanted to work things out,” I hear the sadness in her voice. “I really loved you, you know that, right?”

“I do,” I nod. “Our marriage, all those years… it wasn’t all bad, though, right?”

“Of course,” she quickly replies. “We had our moments. We have Minnie and George.”

We pause, letting that sink in. In all this mess, those two were and remain everything, some symbol of our marriage not being a complete disaster. 

“There were also times when you were a good husband,” she adds.

“Why do I feel like you’re going to pat me on the head?”

Emma laughs under her breath.

“Your new bloke seemed a nice sort,” I tell her, because it’s true. I may hate the guy with a burning passion, but that’s only because he’s dating my wife. 

“He is.”

“That got legs?” I ask her.

“Possibly.”

“I want you to be happy, Ems,” I tell her. “With or without me.”

“Harry…”

“But I also want you to know that I’ll be waiting for you. No rush, no timeline. I’ll wait for as long as it takes. Because for me, it’s either you or no one else.”

The front door opens and two little faces pop out from behind it.

“What are you doing out here? It’s freezing!” Shouts Minnie.

“Well then come here and give me cuddles to warm me up,” I tell her.

Emma and I take a kid each. She takes George and lets him entangle his legs in hers, cradling himself into the hook of his mummy’s arm. Minnie uses me like a climbing frame. I bop her on the nose as I’ve done since she was a baby, and I like that it never stops being hilarious to her. The sky starts to dim, trees casting shadows onto the pavement. A house down the road has some festive lights that switch on and flicker on and off in strange syncopated patterns.

“This is nice,” Minnie mumbles. “I miss the awesome foursome.”

“The awesome foursome, huh?” I ask.

“That’s what you used to call us,” I hear the sadness in her voice and my heart aches. I know she feels this all a lot more than her little brother. “I still remember.”

“Do you really have to go again, daddy?” George looks at me with sad puppy dog eyes. 

“Yeah, do you?” Minnie asks. “I love having you here.”

“I do, my loves,” I reply sadly. “Be good for mummy, alright? I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

“I don’t like seeing you go,” George mumbles.

The emotion is a little unbearable and I see a tear trail down my wife’s cheek. George looks petrified seeing his mum cry. 

“Don’t be sad, mummy.”

“I’m not sad,” she shakes her head, quickly wiping the tear off her cheek. “I’m just sorry daddy and I couldn’t make it work.”

“Did we do something wrong?” George asks, looking at his mum and then me.

“Oh, mate,” I reach out to cup his face, Emma pulls him into a hug. “Of course not. You didn’t do anything wrong. You two are perfect, you hear me?”

“Do you still love each other?” Minnie asks.

Emma looks at me in the eye as she answers our daughter. “I’ll always love your dad, because he gave me both of you.”

“And I’ll always love your mum,” I say, my eyes pinned on my wife. “No matter what.”

Emma

“So… tell me, he a good lay? He looks the sort to have some girth.”

I probably should have warned you beforehand about this sister of mine.

Lucy is my entertainer sister who has done every job going alongside studying. She went to dance school, spent six months on a cruise ship, has been an extra and once did a two-month stint in Les Misérables. On weekends she dresses up as Disney characters and does kids’ parties which means she owns a lot of wigs and always has glitter in her bra. She’s the fun one. I keep her close because as much as I love my other siblings, this one has been a good entertainment through my separation. Mum suggested for her to live with me for a couple of weeks when I first moved back to the Peak, and I’m so glad she did. It was around the time I lost a stone and would spend most of the time napping, crying and staring at the wall, surviving on cups of tea and Rich Tea fingers. She couldn’t cook or clean and she used all my shampoo but she brought some light into the house when grey clouds threatened to consume it. She was also a great distraction because I could live vicariously through her tales of going to gigs and clubs and hear how she’s not slept and got her boobs out for reasons of fun and frivolity.

However, when you talk to her, she always goes there. She’s brash and has no conversational limit. She thinks her purpose is to not only feed me but also revive a pretty dead sex life too. Actually, it’s not just her. After my husband and I split, my sisters think it’s their job to pique my interest in men again. Luke happened after a boozy Chinese takeaway about two months ago when I joked that a spring roll was the most phallic thing I’d had in my mouth for over half a year. I remember a dumpling rolled out of Meg’s mouth in shock, so Suze decided to play the matchmaker and introduced me to Luke who worked at the same hospital with her.

Tonight, we’re having another takeaway night since my parents have all the grandchildren for the weekend. Bless them for entertaining that crew of children we seem to have acquired over the past nine years. We have seven between Suze, myself and Meg, and I just hope that my parents are well stocked with wine. They will need it. 

We all sit around my dining room table with the remnants of a KFC bargain bucket, a selection of Thai food, a giant bag of chips and some battered sausages. I’d admit that we were already a little drunk to buy food sanely. Luke is also here, I thought it’d be nice to give my sisters the chance to get to know him. And it doesn’t take Lucy more than thirty seconds after Luke gets up to take a phone call before asking such questions. 

“I don’t know? I haven’t slept with him yet.”

Lucy looks at me in confusion. “But you’ve been on dates and stuff?”

“We did have a cheeky snog last week but we’re taking it slow.”

“What are you waiting for? Just go shag him. Erase the memory of that wanker?” 

“Hey, he’s your niece and nephew’s father,” I chastise her for calling Harry names. “Don’t call him that.”

“Why don’t you want to sleep with Luke?” Meg, my other sister asks me. “Lucy is right though. He’s really tall, I bet he’s VWE.”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Very well-endowed.”

I chuckle. “Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do with it.”

Meg giggles and places her head on my shoulder. 

“Last time I had sex was on Valentine’s Day, girls. Do your maths. The next day, my marriage collapsed.”

Both of them huddle into me like penguins. 

“Which is why you just need to get over yourself,” Lucy remarks. “You need to remember what sex is like. It’ll be fun and make you feel good. If you don’t want to do it with Luke, you can have some taster session? I’ve got a uni mate who’d shag you.”

“Lovely. No.”

Lucy huffs. “You’re so boring.”

“Honestly, Em, Luke is fit. Seems like a nice fella, and he genuinely likes you. I’d have a go on him if I weren’t married. You should just do it,” says Meg.

“Yeah, you could shag him tonight,” Lucy adds. “Meg and I can piss off out and then…” 

Then she does a strange rave-style dance as she thinks of her plan coming together. Luke returns from his phone call and Lucy jiggles in her seat. Don’t you bloody dare. 

“Luke, we need more wine,” says Lucy. “There is not enough and we thought you could walk down to the shop and get some?”

Meg and I look at each other for a second, wondering what our sister is up to. 

“Sure, yeah, I could get wine,” Luke replies. “Any other requests?”

If she tells him to get condoms in then I will skewer her with a chopstick.

“Anything you might fancy or need?”

She’s walking an incredibly thin, thin line. 

Luke gets up to retrieve his coat and grazes my hand as he does. This move doesn’t go unnoticed by Meg and she gives me a sly wink. I hand him my keys and he heads for the front door. Meg stares Lucy out.

“Seriously?” She says.

“We need to prepare you if you’re going to sleep with him.”

“Like mentally?” I ask.

“Like have you had a tidy? This will be your first time. You’ll need to at least tidy up the flaps and do a bit of topiary.”

“LUCY!” I gasp and laugh at the same time, holding my hand to my face. Who is this woman? How can you raise five children in the same house and come up with such a random entity?

She stands up and heads for my kitchen drawers, rifling around until she pulls out a pair of scissors.

“Show me your bush,” she orders.

“Lucy! I prepare food with those scissors.”

“And we’ll wash them?”

Meg is in hysterics as she sees this scene unfolding in front of us.

“I’m not getting my bush out in my kitchen.”

“You’re so dull,” Lucy complains. “I’m trying to help here. What are your pits like? Shame there’s no time to tackle your upper lip.”

I put my hand over it instinctively. “I’ve got a moustache?”

“Well, you’re not Tom Selleck but it could do with a bleach.”

“You’re being cruel now, Luce,” Meg giggles. “But I think we do need the comedy of seeing Lucy trimming your bush in the kitchen.”

I stand up reluctantly and unbutton my jeans.

“Ha!” Exclaims Lucy. “You’re wearing nice knickers, you knew this was going to happen. Just peel them back a little and let me have a look.”

“Be quick for fuck’s sake. This is something that no one needs to see.”

“Do you want a shape?”

“What?”

“Yeah, like a heart? It’d be cute.”

“No!”

Meg roars with laughter.

“I’ll just trim the length then,” says Lucy. “Meg, put your hand out.”

“Do I have to?”

“Don’t you love your sister enough to at least hold her pubes?”

I’m not even sure what’s happening here. One sister is very close to my private regions with a sharp object and I hear the creak of metal as she shears away. The other collects the trimmings in a napkin in her palm. This feels like an opportune moment to ring Suze, our other sister, and start a FaceTime chat. That time we all took one for the team so Emma could reclaim her sex life.

“Thanks, Luce.”

“You don’t say this enough I feel.”

“We really don’t,” says Meg.

“Want me to look at yours, Meg?”

“I’m good.”

“What if he’s into weird stuff?” I ask.

“Like?”

“I don’t know… maybe like choking? Stuff like that.”

“Well, no one breaks out all the moves on their first time,” says Meg but Lucy gives us a look like she begs to differ.

“And I’m not on anything. I stopped the pills months ago. What if I get pregnant?”

“That’s what condoms are for?” 

They both give me a look that says I am not fourteen and that I should have an inkling about how reproduction works and the preventative measures that I can put in place to stop myself from getting pregnant. 

“How do I initiate it?”

“Maybe you could dance for him?” says Luce mockingly. “You’ve both had a drink, let it just happen. Planned sex is the worst kind of sex.”

“I planned nothing. You’re the one who’s got the kitchen scissors.”

“I’m done, anyway. Not my finest work but then at least he’ll be able to find it?”

Meg laughs again as she goes to the bin with her napkin of pubes. I do my jeans up and sit at the table, downing what’s left in my glass. What if he can’t get it up? Or worse, what if he doesn’t like my boobs? I have modest boobs. They wouldn’t win any competitions. What if he wants better boobs?

“You’re overthinking,” says Meg.

“I haven’t got any condoms.”

Lucy reaches inside her handbag, pulls out two packets of johnnies and hands them to me. How far ahead has she planned this?

“Any other excuse?” Lucy asks.

“Look, tonight, just get naked with the fella, have some bloody fun. Enjoy yourself.”

I hear the key go in the latch of the front door. That was quick. Crap. Luke enters the kitchen with two bottles of red that I immediately feel guilty about as I’ve got a rack of it in the utility room. He also carries a few packs of crisps and takes the kitchen scissors that were on my table.

“No!” I stop him. “Those need to be washed.”

He looks at me in confusion and I love that he puts them in the sink without any further questions asked. He rips opens the packet of crisps with his hands instead.

“Crisps?”

Lucy grabs a handful of crisps before she grabs her phone, pretending to read some texts. “Bollocks! Meg, we forgot about the party.”

Meg quickly plays along. “Oh yeah, crap. It’s that birthday party, innit?”

I feel awful. I’m sending the sisters back out into the cold so Luke and I can have the house to ourselves. They both keep winking at me which is more down to the fact that they’ve had at least a bottle of wine each for themselves tonight. Luke stands at the kitchen door while I wave everyone off. This feels weird. 

“Have fun, kids!” Chants Lucy as she shepherds Meg away from the house. I shut the door.

And then there were two. I turn around and Luke is no longer at the doorway. I tiptoe into the kitchen to find him stacking plates. 

“Shall we tidy up now?” He asks.

“It can wait.”

My phone on the table lights up with an incoming text. It’s Lucy. Don’t forget to adjust your tits. Make sure they’re facing forwards. Show a bit of bra. 

Does this mean my boobs are not always facing forward? Where are they looking? This isn’t helping at all. I ignore it.

“Alright,” Luke says with a smile that makes me feel relaxed but also on the faint side of nauseated. It’s probably first time nerves. Is it weird that I’m thinking about the cleanliness of my bedroom? Did I pick up yesterday’s bra from the corner of my room? Do I remember how to go down on a man? What if he doesn’t fancy me?

Sometimes I can’t help but wonder whether my marriage ended with Harry because I was terrible in bed. Maybe I wasn’t attractive enough. I’ve had kids, parts of me are stretched and doughy. Maybe I didn’t provide what he needed. 

In the last year of our marriage, I think it’s safe to say that I was mainly the one to initiate things between us and my success rate wasn’t 100%. There’s this nagging thought in my head that maybe even on those nights I succeeded, those were just pity shags.

You know what, sod it. 

I grab him by the collar and kiss him. He stumbles a little but then lets his body fold into mine. I can do this. Crap. He’s lifting me up. He sits me on the counter and I’d like to say the moment overtakes but there’s red wine inches from my arse so I move the glass with my hand whilst still kissing him. We’re kissing. This is weird. It’s different. It’s not my husband’s lips. Why am I thinking about my husband’s lips? 

I shake my head, banishing that image. Harry doesn’t belong in this room with me right now. 

I feel his hands in the small of my back and then he lifts my jumper over my head. I’m in my bra. Don’t overthink it. Oh, the bra is off. My nipples are out in the kitchen. I run my fingers through his hair as he trails kisses down my neck. Is it weird that right now, at this very moment, all I can think about is that his blond, floppy hair looks like a golden retriever?

I gasp and push him away involuntarily when his mouth wraps on my nipple. This is wrong. This feels wrong. I thought it was just first time jitters but now I think this is deeper than that. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, looking concerned.

I grab my jumper and quickly put it back on. “I… I’m sorry, Luke. I can’t. I have to go.”

“Emma, I’m sorry,” his face reads panic. “Did I read the signals wrong? I thought you wanted this. I feel terrible. I’m so sorry.”

“No, please don’t apologise,” I say hastily. “You didn’t. I did want this. Or so I thought. It’s just… I’m not ready. I don’t think I’ll be ready any time soon. Or ever.”

“What do you mean? Are you breaking up with me?”

I have to be straight with him. I take a deep breath. “I want to give you the opportunity to walk away. You’re a good guy, Luke. I just don’t think it’s fair for me to string you along if we can never progress.”

“Is it your ex-husband?”

He’s still my husband. But I don’t say this out loud. 

“He told me that he wanted to give our marriage another shot about two weeks ago when he was here,” I tell him. “I did say no right away. I didn’t think it was a good idea. But…”

“Is it really?” He asks. “You two have a lot of history. Two kids. Why wouldn’t you give him a chance?”

“I’m worried.”

“And what are you worried about?”

“My heart?” I say quietly. “I don’t want to go through that again.”

Luke smiles at me through sympathetic eyes. “Listen to me, Emma. I’m not a cardiologist, but I know that the hearts are the strongest organs in the human body. They can go through anything.”

What happens next feels like a blur. All I know is that by midnight, I’m already halfway down the M1, on my way to London. 

Harry

It was a knock on the door that woke me up.

When I first open my eyes, I’m disoriented. I don’t know what time it is, or how long I’ve been asleep. Then I realise I’m on the sofa, and it’s still dark outside. It’s also raining. I walk towards the door and open it, just in time to catch a figure going down the steps, which doesn’t take me more than a second to recognise. I am in complete shock. Is this real? Is that really my wife, standing in front of my door in the middle of the night? Or are my eyes deceiving me?

“Emma?”

She stops on the pavement and slowly turns to face me. She’s spooked through—her jeans moulded to the curves of her legs, the sleeves of her jumper dripping, her hair flat, lips slightly tinged with blue.

“I don’t know why I’m here,” she says. “Don’t know what I was thinking.”

I open the door wider, and my voice is drowsy and deep when I say, “Come on, let’s talk inside.”

She takes a step back instead.

“I just… I wasn’t thinking. I’m here. I don’t know why,” she sounds genuinely bewildered—even a little panicked.

“Are the kids in the car?” I ask her and she shakes her head. The wind blows, spraying ice-cold drops across my bare skin where my shirt hangs open. “You’re shivering, honey, come inside.” 

She stares at me, so many emotions swirling in her expression. She’s like a skittish kitten who can’t decide if she should let the stranger pat her head or haul up the nearest tree. It breaks my heart.

“I don’t think I can.”

So I go to her. 

The rain is cold and hard, soaking my shirt. Her eyes dart from the pavement, to my chest, up to my eyes and back again, like she’s ready to bolt—but her feet stay glued.

I lean in so she can hear me through the rain. “Do you remember the first time we went to Paris together? When we were young and crazy enough to only rent one electric scooter for both of us, and we rode around the city at night?”

The corners of her mouth tug up a little. “I remember.”

“But then I was going way too fast and we hit a rock, and both of us went flying. I didn’t want to ride anymore the next day, because I was afraid you’d get hurt. Do you remember what you told me?”

“I said…” she begins, her eyes meet mine. “I said we had to keep riding. Because it’s the only thing that made falling worth it.”

I nod tenderly and hold out my hand. “I’m not going to let us fall this time, Emma.”

Her eyes are back on the pavement. “I’m not sure-”

I know she still doesn’t trust me. I know that sadness on her face and how it penetrates so deeply. I know she’s probably better off without me, the bastard who crushed her heart and soul and took her for granted for years. 

We shy away from the things that hurt us. But that’s what scars are for. They protect the wounds. They cover them with thick, numb tissue so we’ll never have to feel that same pain again. The scars that my wife has inside? They’re tough. 

I beg when she continues to stare at my hand, “Please, just come inside.”

Slowly, tentatively, her hand slides into mine. 

And we go in out of the rain.

I take her upstairs to the bedroom that used to be ours. Her teeth chatter as she sits on the edge of the bed. I throw a blanket over her shoulders, rubbing her arms, sliding down to cup her hands. 

“Shit, you’re freezing. How long were you out there?”

“A while. I was walking… thinking.”

“Just some friendly advice. Next time you go a-wandering, stop and buy an umbrella.”

Emma shivers as she laughs. I pull the blanket closer around her and rub her back. 

“So… you gonna tell me what’s this midnight adventure about?” 

Her voice comes out soft and wavering in the dark room. “I was with Luke.”

“Did he do something to you? I’ve watched enough crime documentaries to pull a perfect murder.”

She shakes her head and chuckles. “We were having a takeaway night. Meg and Lucy were there too, but then they left and there were just the two of us and-”

“Please spare me the details,” I beg.

“Nothing happened. I just… I couldn’t get through it. Your face kept popping out in my head and I knew that if I went all the way through, we’d lose our chance. And I didn’t want us to lose our chance. I know this is completely the opposite of what I said to you two weeks ago but it’s true. I wasn’t ready then and maybe I’m still not ready now, but I don’t know about the future and you said you’d wait for me and…”

Her words trail off and my chest clenches with that sublime mix of excitement and trepidation. Of wanting something so much it’s like every cell in your body is stretching, reaching for it, yet there’s a grey shadow of worry that you might never get to touch it.

“Oh, Ems…”

I cup my hands around hers and blow into them. Another shiver vibrates through her. 

For a moment we sit there in silence. Memories of us in this bed come flooding back. Of the kids piling in here bright and early, and us having cuddles and catch ups over the week just gone. Of the two of us and that sacred half an hour we had together before we go to sleep. Where we could have a proper chat without little voices interrupting us every few seconds. Sometimes we’d read together too, and other times when we just couldn’t be arsed, we’d simply spend that half an hour scrolling through memes and having a laugh together.

“You’ve got to get out of these wet clothes,” I say gently, with absolutely no teasing suggestion. We’re right on the precipice. I can feel it. And I have to tread so carefully, because one wrong move could send her away, truly lost to me.

I peel my soaked shirt off and let it drop to the floor. Her eyes move, trailing over my shoulders. I stand and slowly unbutton my jeans, leaving me in black boxer briefs. 

Her eyes follow my every move, looking at me.

I push the blanket off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I grasp her jumper at the bottom and lift slowly. I wait for her to push me away but she doesn’t. She raises her arms instead. I pull the jumper over her head and it lands with a plop on the floor. I remind myself not to enjoy the view. I’m trying hard not to look.

My chest rises and falls as rapidly as hers. I sink to my knees in front of her and reach out for the button of her jeans. She lifts her hips and my fingertips graze her skin as I slide them down her thighs, leaving the white lace knickers in place. 

“Get under the sheets,” I whisper and she does just that.

She scoots to her side of the bed, and I slide beside her. Without a word, she snuggles into my side. The cool feel of her flesh is a shock at first, but in just a few moments, my heat chases away her chill. Except for her feet. I practically jump when she runs one up my calf.

“Yer a bloody ice cube!”

She laughs kind of evilly. 

We face each other, almost nose to nose. Her hair still drips at the ends and a drop trickles over her collarbone, down her chest, and I’ve got to take a deep breath—because I want to lick it off her so badly.

“Talk to me,” she says softly.

“I’m taking time off work.”

“But you never take time off work?” 

“I’ve got a lot to make up to the kids,” I tell her. “So I told Jeff to bugger off for at least until after New Year.”

I see her smile in the dim light.

“I’m gonna stay up with my mum,” I add. “I’ll only be an hour away from you lot.”

This is something that I’ve been mulling about. If I really do want a chance with Emma, I need to move up there because absence does not make the heart grow fonder. That may be true in secondary school when you went away for the summer. But in marriage, especially in a broken marriage, absence separates people. It creates distance. That’s the opposite of what you’re trying to achieve. You want the closeness back.

My wife’s palm runs over my bicep—tentatively at first—then with a surer touch. “They’d love that.”

“Also, you remember my old mate Stu?” She nods. “We got in touch just earlier today. He’s got a litter of puppies and he offered one for us. I told him I need to talk to you first. So what do you think?”

“A puppy, huh?”

“A puppy.” 

“I think that’s a good idea,” she says. “But I’ve never had a dog though.”

“I can train it first at my mum’s?” I offer. “I’ll get it all settled. Then when it starts sleeping through the night, I’ll bring it over.”

“Does it make me a terrible mum for wishing we had that kind of service when the kids were newborns?” 

“We had that service. It’s called sending them to the grandparents.”

We both laugh, and when the laughter dies down, we’re silent for a few minutes. The thrum of my heartbeat jacks up as her hand continues to stroke my arm. 

“Harry?” Her voice is the barest whisper, like she’s checking to see if I’m asleep. 

“Hmm?”

“I… I’ve missed you. So much.”

And I’m done.

The need to kiss her, to touch her, has been pulling at me like a raging current ever since I saw her on the front step, and with those few words, I let the current take me. 

***

Numerous studies have shown that having sex extends the human life span. At this rate, Emma and I are going to live forever. We probably slept twenty minutes max throughout the night and I’ve lost count of the number of times we’ve done it. I’m pretty sure the last time we did something like that was ten years ago on our honeymoon. 

We’re sitting at the breakfast nook. Her hair mussy and she’s wearing one of my T-shirts. She looks freshly fucked, which I know to be true, and I reckon she’d be ready to crawl back into bed with me if I just crook my finger. But I don’t do that. Because this, us, sitting here in the morning sunlight, playing footsies under the table while we talk over coffee is all I’ve been dreaming about every morning.

“What are you thinking about?” She asks when she catches me looking.

“You,” I smile. “You look perfect.”

“No, no more,” she shakes her head frantically. “I won’t be able to walk.”

“You dirty lass, I was trying to be romantic and all that,” I can’t help but snort in laughter. “And you always do that… rebuff any type of compliment I try to give you.”

It’s true. If I tell her she looks beautiful, she waves a dismissive hand at me. If I compliment her mind, she blushes. Even an appreciative look from me has her turning shy like a schoolgirl.

When she doesn’t respond to me, I continue to poke at her. “Why is that? Why does it embarrass you when I tell you that you’re smokin’ hot?”

She wrinkles her nose at me. “Because it’s weird. I feel like you just have to say that.” 

She pretends to go through one of her old magazines from when she still lived here. I reach across the table and bat at it, causing one side to pull out of her hands and reveal her entire face to me. Now she’s glaring. “You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known.”

And I grin when I see red stain her cheeks.

“And you’ve got the most gorgeous body. I take one look at you naked and I can’t help but get rock hard.”

“Stop it,” she blusters, now blushing all the way down her neck.

I change tactics, but I know this will embarrass her just as much. “You are the most amazing woman. Kindest, genuine and grounded. Funniest too. And you’re the best mother for our babies.”

“Okay,” she snaps at me as she closes the magazine and slams it down onto the table. “You’ve made your point.”

Chuckling, I stretch back in my chair and nudge her foot with mine under the table. “You’re adorable.”

She rolls her eyes, which I find to be beyond adorable. 

Standing up from my chair, I walk around the table and hold my hand out to her. She willingly takes it and stands when I give her a tug. It’s a natural move for her, to walk straight into my embrace and press herself against me. I tilt my head and kiss her on her jaw. “It’s something you need to get used to… compliments from me. It’s never going to stop.”

She moans softly in my ear.

“Want to know what else you’re going to have to get used to?” I whisper as I kiss my way down her neck.

Her fingers come up, tangle in my hair, and fist tightly. “What’s that?”

“My face between your legs.”

***

Some people might not put Quaglino’s into the romantic restaurant bracket, but they’d be wrong, very wrong. In actual fact, it’s quite hard to top. The interior has this 1930’s romance charm with candlelit tables, dark-panelled walls and an adjoining room for dancing to the soft tunes of the piano man singing bluesy versions of classic songs. 

Tonight, I managed to convince Emma to go out to dinner with me before she goes back to our babies. I insist on driving her since I don’t want her to drive alone at night again, which she initially refused but finally agreed.

We finish our dinner and split a slice of cheesecake for dessert. Probably not my brightest idea since I keep having to readjust myself because seeing her slowly swallow a mouthful of white, creamy concoction is a pure kind of torture. But I try to kick those dirty thoughts out of my mind and focus. 

Since last night, we’ve successfully managed to avoid the talk. It feels like we’re in a bubble where everything is perfect and we’re just scared to burst it, but I know this can’t go on. Emma and I need to have a proper chat if we want this to work.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

“You and I need to talk, don’t you think?” I begin. 

“You’re right,” she nods. “So…”

“What is this?” I gesture between us. “Are you ready to give us another shot?”

“I think so,” she nods. “But I want us to take it slow.”

“You set the pace,” I assure her. “I want this to work more than I want anything else in my life. So I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“We’ll see this as a new dalliance,” she adds.

I know this is supposed to be serious so I try hard not to break into laughter. “Okay. I will court you but I won’t ask you to move to an estate in the country. Not right away at least.”

“I’m serious.”

“You sound like Austen.”

She rolls her eyes. “And we can’t tell anyone either.”

“I agree,” I tell her. “And from now on, we talk to each other, alright? I’ll try to make you happy the best way I know how. But if it’s not enough for you, then you need to tell me.”

She nods, but then her graze drops before she asks. “You really do want this right?”

“I told you I want this to work more than anything else in my life.”

“It’s just… when you first told me you wanted to fight for our marriage, I was overwhelmed because it was all so sudden. You told me everything I wanted to hear. Even at that moment, everything in me screamed for us to just fall back into it all the way. But there was also a part of me that thought you were just lonely, and maybe you thought that us getting back together was the answer to it.”

“Not true-”

Emma holds up her hand. “Maybe not true, but it’s my fear. That’s why I kissed Luke that night, because I was desperate. I wanted to push things with him because I knew I’d never love him the way I love you. I knew that if things went to pot, I wouldn’t be half as devastated. But with you? I don’t think I can survive that type of heartbreak again, H. You don’t know how much it killed me to end our marriage. I can’t afford to fall back into something that’s not going to last.”

“Emma,” I reach across the table to take her hand. “I can’t even imagine how hard it was for you. I know for sure it was not a decision you made lightly, nor on a whim. I wish I had fought you on it then… had fought for you then. There was a time when I thought our marriage was over, and I was going to let you go. But I’m not going to do that now. If it takes you weeks, months, hell, Emma… if it takes you years to fully trust my devotion to you, I’m in this for however long it takes.”

Emma nods, biting into her lower lip. I can see her eyes starting to water because every bit of this is overwhelming. She turns her head towards the music floating in from the other room. It’s a Van Morrison cover, Crazy Love.

“Wanna dance?”

The request takes me by surprise since this isn’t like her. But I toss my napkin on the table and move to stand next to her, holding out my hand. The simple delight on her face when her hand slides into mine is everything.

We step out onto the edge of the dance floor. I wrap my arm around her lower back, holding her tight and flush against me. One of her hands rests on my shoulder, playing with the hair at the nape of my neck. The other is clasped in mine just over my heart. We sway, eyes pinned at each other for a few moments.

“Thought you hate dancing?” I smirk.

“Still hate it,” she answers. “I’m just using it as an excuse to be closer to you.”

She sighs, practically sinks into my arms. Emma’s head fits against my chest like she was made to be there. My chin rests against her hair.

“Emma?”

She lifts her head from my chest. “Yeah?”

“You don’t need an excuse.”

She give me love, love, love, love, crazy love… 

***

“What the-”

“Oi!” I yell, quickly pulling the duvet over my wife and I. “Heard of knocking?”

“Heard of a bedroom lock?” Lucy challenges.

Last night, we drove up the M1 straight from the restaurant. We took breaks in deserted services with shiny floors and bad lighting where we had coffees and wandered around WHSmith bulk buying sweets even though it’s really not that far. But you can never have too many travel sweets, can you?

And now, here we are, back at the cottage. The kids are still at their grandparents until this afternoon so Emma and I are enjoying the benefit of having the house all to ourselves by having a morning shag. That is until one of her sisters walks in on us. I’m very aware that I’m still inside Emma.

I pull out, roll over to lay down next to my wife, and we both stare at Lucy who is dressed from head to toe like Princess Jasmine from Aladdin.

“Party?” Emma asks her sister. We both try not to giggle as she sashays in to look at herself in the mirror then perches on the bed in her harem pants. Today, she’s gone heavy on the winged eyeliner and shows off a flat midriff. I quite like the pointy silver shoes though.

“No, Tesco,” she says dryly. “Obviously a party.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask her. 

Lucy glares at me. “What are you doing here? Besides rearranging my sister’s guts, of course.”

I don’t even flinch. I’ve been married to Emma for ten years, I’m used to this sister of hers.

“I’m trying to win your sister back,” I say earnestly. I know that Emma and I talked about keeping this a secret, but she literally walked on us shagging. There’s no point in denying it. It’s best that she knows my true intention rather than thinking we’re divorced with benefits.

“Eh, about time,” she replies nonchalantly.

“Luce, please keep this to yourself for now,” Emma begs her. “This is still new.”

“I will,” she nods. “Just a friendly reminder, though, Styles. If you hurt my sister again, I won’t even think twice before starting a business selling voodoo dolls of you. Bet I could make a fortune of that.”

In their girl gang, Lucy is the wildcard, the likeliest to carry a shank. I don’t even laugh because she could be serious. 

“Duly noted.”

“What are you doing here this early?” Emma asks her sister.

“I wanted to ask if I can borrow that giant tiger in George’s room?”

“Feel free to borrow the rug in the front room as well,” I cackle.

“Ooh yeah,” Emma chirps. “Are you going to find a whole new world?”

“Have you got your Aladdin?”

She pulls a face at our mocking. “My mate who’s supposed to be Aladdin is sick so I asked Jamie to fill in and he agreed because he owed me a big favour. But this lot changed their mind and wanted a genie so now I have to go to Jamie’s and convince him to let me do a full blue body paint on him.”

Emma and I roar with laughter. “Please, please, please, take some piccies.” 

***

A month later…

I can only imagine the joy on my children’s faces when they open the door. I’ll be standing there with the pup in hand, but I know I’m practically vibrating with excitement myself. I glance over at the little dog crate that we’d prepared to transport him in. It’s a sweet, nine-week-old Bernese mountain dog. He’s pretty chill, curled into a round ball, but he’s not sleeping. His eyes are open and alert, as if he’s just waiting to find out what’s around the next corner.

The back of my Range Rover is loaded with two boxes of food, dog toys, bowls, a leash, and appropriate treats. Since I’m still crashing at my mum’s, that will go to her place for when the kids and this puppy come to stay. Emma has an identical list at her home, already purchased and hiding until we hand the puppy off to the kids.

I’ve got a feeling that today is going to be a good day. All morning, Emma and I texted back and forth. Some of it was practical, like making sure we agreed on all the dog rules we’d lay down with the kids tonight. Some of it was lighthearted teasing. Some of it was dirty.

I can’t remember the last time I texted my wife throughout the day just for the hell of it. I had fun with it, and I know without a doubt she had fun with it too. Which made me realise what a twat I’d been for never doing something as simple as letting her know she was on my mind in just such a way. 

Pulling into the drive, I cut my headlights so the kids wouldn’t see me approach. I shut the engine off, quietly get out of my side, and press the door closed quietly. On the other side, I open the passenger door, then spring the latch on the dog crate, and this tiny little puppy totters straight at me with tail wagging.

I lift him in my arms. I shut the door and then move over to the patch of grass. I put the puppy down so he will go potty before I bring him in. When I was a kid, we had a dog called Max, but I sort of grew up with him so I didn’t remember when he was a puppy. And Emma never had a dog before, so we’re sort of winging it with this puppy training thing. But I don’t fret about it. I mean, we’ve had babies, they’re harder than this, surely? 

I patiently wait for this little fella to do his business, which includes a few minutes where he attacks my shoelaces and tugs. Shite, he’s cute. 

Eventually, he sniffs around, tail high and then abruptly squats to pee. I thought boy dogs lift their legs when they pee but maybe not at this age. I immediately bend and give him praise with an upbeat, positive tone that makes him excited. Who’s daddy’s clever little fella? You are! Yes, you are! You did well, mate. That was brilliant! He puts his paws up on my shin, accepting my stretches with tail wagging and tongue lolling out the side of his head. My kids are going to fall in love with this little guy. 

I scoop him up in my arms when he’s done and make my way inside. But instead of entering from the front door, I circle the house so I can enter from the back, knowing they must be all in the kitchen as this is usually the time when the kids would do their homework for next week. Walking past the window, I see that I’m right. Emma is at the kitchen island with George next to her and Minnie on the opposite side. My heart starts beating faster at the thought of spending the day with my family—and apparently our new third child in my arms—and I find it almost shameful I have such excitement over it. Shouldn’t I have always been this excited? Or is it normal for things to just settle, and we take them for granted?

I shake that thought off of my mind. I had this important talk with my wife a couple of weeks ago about how we shouldn’t focus on the past. We’re both committed to repairing our marriage, and for it to work, we both know we must commit to living in the present. Because at the end of the day, the present is all we have.

I knock on the door and as planned, Emma will tell the kids to answer it.

In moments, it’s swinging open. I get a flash of Emma walking up behind our kids, but my eyes are pinned on them. They’re both in complete shock, eyes wide open staring at the puppy squirming in my arms.

Both stare at me mutely, frozen, as if they can’t believe that this is real.

Finally, I say, “surprise!”

Minnie’s gaze rises up to meet mine. “Is that ours?”

“This is ours,” I nod, laughing. But still, neither of them move forwards, so I goad them. “Come and get him?”

That’s all it takes for Minnie to scoop this little fella into her arms, pressing her nose into his head and murmuring little endearments. George scratches him and he reacts to their greetings by wiggling frantically and trying to lick both of my kids’ faces. They both laugh in a delighted way I’ve never quite heard before.

I look at my wife and see her tender smile as she watches our littles. I can tell she’s as charmed by it as I am. 

I walk inside because it’s colder than a witch’s tit outside and shut the door. “He just peed outside, but we need to keep a close eye on him. If he starts sniffing around or circling, that probably means he needs a wee. Scoop him up and take him out to the back. After he’s done with his thing, give him lots of praise and affirmation.”

“Got it,” Minnie says as she plops down on the living room floor with the pup. The puppy jumps around, and all three of them start to play.

“Now, what should we name him?” Emma asks.

“Droolius Caesar?” I joke.

Emma laughs. “Jimmy Chew?”

“Sarah Jessica Barker?” I continue. “Wait, no, it’s a boy. Franz Fur-dinand?”

“Sir Barks-a-Lot?”

“Deputy Dawg?”

“Bark Twain?”

We both laugh. We’re shite at this. The kids are too busy with the puppy to comment on our suggestions.

SpongeBob SquarePants is on the telly playing in the background. None of them are watching, but I see SpongeBob scratching his snail pet under the chin before he picks up said pet and says, “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

“Gary,” I say. The kids look at me and I point at the telly.

“That’s a ridiculous name for a dog,” Emma cackles. “But I like it.”

“That’s a human name?” Minnie’s brows knit slightly.

“I like it!” George exclaims, then proceeds to baby talk the pup who’s chewing on the end of Minnie’s braid. “I love you Gary. Gary, Gary, Gary, Gary…”

We laugh.

“H,” Emma calls, and my gaze moves to her. She jerks her chin to the kitchen. “Help me set up the table? I’ve got a cold beer for you.”

Minnie and George still completely ignore us as we move into the kitchen. 

It would be natural for me to sit at the kitchen island while Emma gets the beer and checks on the supper, but the kids can see me from where they sit in the living room. So I follow my wife behind the island instead.

Before she can make it two steps, I move right into the back of her. Hands at her hips, I push her all the way forward until the counter catches her hips, then I dip to put my lips to her neck. 

Emma’s head falls back and she utters the tiniest of sighs, one arm looping back to go around the side of my head so she can thread her fingers in my hair. It’s an intimate embrace, but not one to provoke lust. Just a message that I missed her even though I saw her two days ago, and I love touching her in this gentle, loving way.

“The kids,” she murmurs. “They might see us.”

“Oh, the tragedy,” I whisper dryly. “Our children seeing  their parents hugging.”

Emma snickers and pulls away, glancing over her shoulder. “It would be shocking to them. And until we know for sure what we are and where we’re going, we need to keep them in the dark, remember? I don’t want them to get their hopes up.”

“You’re right,” I mumble in a low voice before moving to the island. I glance back at the living room and see the puppy on George’s back, trying to climb up. “No touching around the kids.”

She smiles and hands me a beer. She’s got one in her hand, and we tap bottles. She then moves to the oven, where she bends to take a peek through the window. Obviously, I stare at her arse as she does.

“It’s done,” she announces, opening the oven to pull the pan of shepherd’s pie.

“Need help with that?’ I ask, noting it looks like it probably weighs fifty pounds.

Twisting, she grins. “Sure. I made a double batch to send you home with some leftovers.”

That gets me. Not only she made one of my favourite meals, but she’s also sending me home with leftovers. I pop off the stool, round the island and take the two potholders she’s holding out to me.

After I carefully lift the pan from the oven, she shuts the oven door. I set it down on the two trivets she’s placed on the counter.

Bending over, I inhale the scent deeply. “Smells fantastic.”

Emma bumps her hip against me. “Well… you’ve been pretty amazing these last few weeks, so…”

I bump her hip back before sliding my hand around her waist. Bending my head, I murmur. “Admit it… it’s for the orgasms I gave you after the school run the other day.”

She chuckles with a sly smile. “Possibly.”

Leaning in closer, I touch my temple on the top of her head, lowering to a complete whisper. “You do know that I can give you that any day you want, right, Em? All you’ve got to do is ask.”

“Oh, I will,” she teases.

“What’s going on here?” Minnie says from behind us.

Emma and I jump apart as if we’d been electrocuted by each other. We spin to see Minnie standing there, with George next to her holding Gary in his arms. These two must have worn that pup out as he is still, watching us curiously.

Minnie’s expression, on the other hand, is condemning and suspicious.

“Nothing’s going on, poppet,” Emma says, her voice a little squeaky in panic. It’s adorable.

“Your mum and I were just talking,” I calmly explain.

“With your arm around her waist and whispering,” Minnie challenges. “Looks more like flirting to me.”

“Are you upset about it?” I challenge back. I knew she was upset when we separated and she struggled with it for a long time. 

Her brows knit together. “I’m just confused.”

Emma’s expression indicates she has no clue what to say. I can’t say I’m any more well equipped, but I’m going to take this one. I give my wife a subtle chin tilt, silently telling her I’ll handle this and relief evident in her eyes.

“Come on, you lot. Help me sort Gary’s stuff,” I say, herding them towards the garage. 

All three of them follow me into the garage, Gary still cosy in George’s arms. 

I immediately spot the stack of supplies, which includes a dog crate similar to mine, as well as bowls, a soft dog bed, food and toys. I pick up the soft bed towards the door that leads back into the house. Minnie turns to precede me, but I stop her. “Hang on there a second, poppet.”

When she pivots to face me her expression is guarded. “You asked about your mum and me. What do you want to know?”

“Were you two flirting with each other just now?” She demands. Crap. She’s nine. She’s not supposed to know that stuff. 

I can’t believe I get a little warm in the face at such a question, but I nod. I know it’s probably too soon to tell them but there’s no point in denying this. Both of my children are smart, and they deserve to know what’s going on. 

Her eyes narrow. “So are you… what… getting back together?”

“Does it mean you’re gonna live with us again, daddy?” George chirps.

“Not yet, nuggets. It’s not that simple.”

“It kind of is,” she replies. “You left for months. You didn’t even come during the summer. Then once she started dating Luke-”

“What’s dating?” George turns to his sister.

“It’s when you like someone and they like you back and you become boyfriend and girlfriend then you go out to eat together and do other stuff,” Minnie explains, then she continues. “Then once she started dating Luke, you’re suddenly coming around more often. And then she told me that Luke wouldn’t come over anymore and now you two are making googly eyes at each other.”

We lapse into silence for a moment. I need to think carefully about what to say next. George beats me. “I think I’m dating someone.”

“You what?” My eyes widen.

“Yeah. I asked Poppy in the playground to be my girlfriend the other day and she said yes. Then after we were done playing on the slides we got hungry so she shared her raisins with me. I also let her take a sip of my Ribena.”

I try hard not to break into laughter but Minnie doesn’t even crack a smile. 

“Okay… so here’s the thing. I was very upset. I know that was wrong of me to just leave without saying goodbye, and it was wrong of me for not visiting sooner. I needed time to let it go, and to accept what your mum wanted. But not once during that time did I not want to come back home. I’ve always wanted my family back.”

“Then what changed?” Minnie asks.

“Your mum and I spent some time apart because we both thought that was the best decision. But we were wrong. Because we realised that we didn’t want to be without each other. So now I’m trying to prove that I’ve changed. That I’m a better man, and I’m ready to be a better husband. The one your mum deserves.”

“See,” Minnie murmurs, her expression filled with confusion. George dips his head and rubs his cheek against Gary’s head, who seems to be on the verge of falling asleep. “I don’t get it. You and mum always seemed to get along great. You never argued. I never understood why you left.”

I move in close to my daughter and brush a lock of hair behind her ear. “A lot of that stuff is private between your mum and I, poppet.”

George asks. “But why can’t you just move in now, daddy?”

“It takes time, mate. Your mum and I need more time to sort ourselves out. But I promise you two that we’re trying our hardest here, okay? We need you both to be patient. Can you do that for us?”

They both nod in unison. Gary blinks twice.

“I can’t wait for us to be family again,” says Minnie.

Grinning, I bend to kiss her head. “Me too, poppet…”

***

Emma

“Gary! This way, Gary!”

Harry and I look at each other across this rather windy hilltop. The kids and Gary are exploring the neighbouring bushes and pathways as we perch ourselves on a rock nearby. We take in the view, the breeze biting at my cheeks.

My husband turns to me. “Tea? I put some whisky in it.”

“Hell, why not.”

Harry pours the tea out and we clink mugs. He brushes his thumb across my nose for no absolute reason. I was born and raised here, but this is something I’ll never tire of: these swooping hills and valleys, infinite skies and bracing breezes. As much as I loved London, I’m glad we’ve traded that life with this simpler one. There is no taxi nor Tube in sight but our kids are somehow a little bouncier and carefree. They’re happy here, and that’s all that matters. 

 “Ey up,” greets Harry at a group of people walking past us. They are obviously tourists as they have no way to respond and one of them is wearing bog standard Reebok Classics.

We hear the kids squeal in the distance and we both smile at each other. Getting that pup was probably one of our best decisions.  

“Do you remember when we first dated?” Asks my husband. “You brought me up here.”

I nod. “I do.”

“The view was decent,” he grins. 

“I know you’re not thinking about the view.”

“I was thinking about what happened when we got to the top of the meadow…”

“That was some decent shag,” I chuckle. “Nowadays, I’d worry about getting ticks on my unmentionables.”

We laugh.

I stare over at my husband taking in the view and sipping tea noisily. He always pauses for a moment on any walk to drink it all in. He rustles in his bag and gets a packet of biscuit out, opening the packaging awkwardly and offering it to me. 

“Did you know that you’re supposed to call it ‘niece’ and not ‘nice’? Apparently, they’re named after the French town.”

“That’s proper pub quiz trivia knowledge right there, Styles,” I tease.

We stay up here for a little while, but since it’ll get dark soon, we start our walk back to the car. The one thing you forget about taking kids up mountains (small hills) is that for all that experience of green space and fresh air, eventually, you will have to bring them down. Despite having an entire packet of biscuit (with a whole lot of why did you bring this one? This is rubbish. You could’ve brought hobnobs), we failed to remember to pack enough snacks and a fine drizzle is now scratching at our faces. It takes George much persuading to keep walking and by the time we return to the car, the sun is dipping behind the clouds and the twilight sits in the air. 

Harry decided it was fine to park in a deserted car park in the middle of nowhere to escape the throngs of regular walkers and tourists but strangely enough, when we get back there, we are one of six parked up.

“Come on, mate. Literally, just to the car. Like twenty more steps,” Harry begs our son to keep on walking. 

“You lied!” He complains. “You said that twenty steps ago.”

“I’ve got Haribo in the car.”

He progresses to a light canter. 

“Where did all these cars come from?” Harry asks as he approaches our motor cautiously.

“Maybe you’re not the only smart one here and people are following your lead.”

A car flashes us. 

I look around at all the cars. People are sat in them. What are they waiting for? You see this sometimes when waiting for the rain to pass or when people decide to eat their lunch in the car. 

Suddenly, I hear a car door open and a gentleman approaches us. His footsteps are low.

I know him. It’s Patrick. He’s our postman, so, yes, we have our very own Postman Pat. It was the first thing that tickled Harry when he found out years ago. And even better, the joke is not lost on Pat. His wife even got him a stuffed black and white cat for his cherry-red van window. I smile at recognising him, as do all of the occupants in our car.

“Emma, Harry, kids. Fancy seeing you here, of all places.”

“We’ve got a new dog and we were just taking him for a walk,” I inform him.

“Oh, lovely. What’s his name?”

“Gary,” the kids say in unison.

“Have you got a dog, Pat?” George asks him.

“No, my wife’s a cat lady. But funny you should mention dogs. This place here, people like to come here for that reason.”

“Gary seemed to like it,” pipes in Harry. “I think it’ll be his favourite.”

“That it is. People come here all the time for walking and with their dogs and other such endeavours.” His face looks slightly ashen at this point, his eyes darting towards the other cars. “And the other sense of the word… I just thought I would mention it as you have the littl’uns and it’s getting darker. I think someone just flashed his lights to warn you.”

Harry and I realise what he means exactly at the same time. “OH!” we say at the same gobsmacked volume. 

“Dogg…ing…” Harry mumbles. “We should-”

“Leave, like definitely leave, like now,” I say finishing his sentence.

The kids appear confused. I look around and shield my eyes. I should shield the children’s eyes. Pat’s wife waves from the passenger seat.

“Give our regards to June,” I say.

“Will do.”

He salutes us and returns to his car. The kids have all the questions. “People come here to look at dogs?” George asks. “Where are the dogs?”

“Get. In. The. Car.” Harry mouths very deliberately.

I slink into the passenger seat. Our eyes dart in different directions trying to divert focus from any of the cars ahead. We’ll be good if Harry doesn’t drive us off a cliff face. He turns on the wipers, the engine roars to a start and he pulls away slowly.

“We could have stayed and seen the dogs,” says George, a little despondently. “Gary would’ve loved to see his mates. Wouldn’t you, Gary?”

I throw a packet of Haribo at him. Harry and I are silent. We’ve just strolled our children and our very young dog into an outdoor sex hotspot. We are terrible parents. 

“Who fancies chips?” Harry says as he changes gear. He finds our littles in the rear-view mirror and studies their faces. “There’s a decent chippy down road.”

There’s a chorus of approval from the back seat. My husband smiles. He then moves his hand over from the gearstick to find mine, fingers interlocked, the sky glowing a thousand different colours.

***

“Are you calling my turkey dry?”

I look over at my older sister Suze in the corner of our family kitchen wondering where on earth she had the courage to come out with a comment like that. Even her husband stops washing up to absorb what his wife just said to our mother. I mean, you think it, but you just douse it in gravy and make do. Such is the joy of white chalky meat like turkey. Why do this now? Now she’ll harp on about the bacon she puts on the breasts and all the goose fat. But it’s Suze. She likes the challenge. I secretly think the only way she believes she can have a relationship with our mother is to spar with her regularly so they at least have one line of communication.

“It was a lovely dinner, Mum. Did you make the mince pies?” Suze winks at me.

I shake my head at her and bring the plate of mince pies through to the living room. Amidst my mother’s wreaths and tinsel wrapped around the lampshades, it’s a familiar tableau: Pop, my grandfather, asleep in the armchair in the corner, a holy green paper hat covering his eyes. Small children crawl on the floor and make angel shapes with their bodies amidst remnants of old glittery wrapping paper.  I hope Mum’s made a trifle. My other sister Meg and her husband snooze on a neighbouring sofa, catching on much needed sleep since they just had a baby four months ago and I still remember four months sleep regression is hell. I like this part of Christmas where bits of old crackers litter the floor and twilight takes over.

I take a mince pie and escape to the last vacant spot on the sofa. George rests his head on my knees. “What are you eating, mummy?” I look down at his bright green eyes and wonder how he can still be hungry as he must be ninety per cent roast potato at this point.

“A mince pie.”

“With cow mince?”

“No, like fruity bits,” I pick out said fruity bits and drop them into his mouth like a baby bird. He pulls a face, tasting it, and then walks away.

Harry smiles at me from the bottom of the Christmas tree. He’s laying down on the floor with one of my nieces. He’s always been great with kids, long even before we have our own. My niece has her palm out, and Harry runs circles in it as he sings, “round and round the garden, like a teddy bear…”

She smiles and laughs, poising her fingers, ready to bounce. 

“One step, two-step, tickle me under there,” he pretends to collapse into giggles and my niece’s little face broadens into laughter before she rolls over and walks away to play with her cousins.

Finishing my last bite of the tiny pie, I roll under the tree to join my husband. He looks at me as I cosy up next to him, the lights reflect off his eyes.

My mother likes a real tree for Christmas. It’s the smell, you can’t beat the smell. I like to think you can get that real pine smell from a good supermarket brand toilet cleaner but I don’t say that out loud for fear of incurring her festive wrath. And so there’s always a real tree and like we endured when my siblings and I were teens, there’s still a daily rota of vacuuming up the needles as we watch that bastard go crusty and brown as it’s shoved up against the radiator. 

We lay there in silence, looking up at the branches and my mother’s multicoloured lights twinkling in some erratic fashion that my eyes can’t quite handle. I’ve been to raves that were less of an assault on the senses. It’s an overwhelming memory of our childhood, lying in silence wigging out on mum’s trippy disco lights, absorbing the magic of the season. 

“You’re drunk aren’t you, tipsy-tits?”

“You were the one who poured double shots of Baileys in our coffees this morning,” I cackle.

“That’s called Christmas milk.” 

“What are you doing here?” Minnie asks, her head nestling into my shoulder. I rake pine needles from her head.

“Nothing…” Harry replies. “Where’s yer brother?”

“Here,” George suddenly appears, rolling under the tree next to his dad to join us.

“Looks like the awesome foursome is back, huh?” Harry grins.

Minnie and George hum in agreement. I can see my babies smiling. 

It’s time.

“Harry?”

“Yeah?” 

I take a deep breath. “Will you come back home with us?”

-

tag list: @gohometoacactus @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @kikisparadise18 @2am-2pm @rogersdirty-louse @harrys-cherriesss @icycoldbeanieweanies @niallbestie3 @peakascum @coucoukayy @awesomebooklover17 @sunflowerryvol6 @stylessugarhigh​ @umadirectioner​ ​

[lillian-nator]

Ranch AU

Or, as we all call it, The Cowboy AU 

Essentially, this was something that I created, and it’s gonna be purely fluffy, with a small bit of angst here and there. Any of the angst will be hurt/comfort. It’s meant to make us all feel better after those fucking harsh lore streams. I started it, based off of some shit in the Dad!Schlatt AU, and after that I honestly didn’t write most of it. It had really been a project in the discord, because we were all sad and shit, so if you have some fluff to offer, please do! I am happy to make almost anything canon - and we could always use more ideas. :)

I hope you enjoy some mindless farm boi fluff!

BASIC INFO: 

It's SBI's Ranch (Phil is Dadza, Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur are his sons)

Phil, sells to the local stores, and manages the crops. He doesn't do too much labor anymore. He hired his boys for that.

Dream, SapNap, Purpled, Tubbo, Callahan, and Punz are all hired farm hands

George, Niki, Ranboo, and Fundy work at the shop where they sell their products; Niki makes all of the dairy products, Fundy and Ranboo stock, label prices, and keeps track of sales, and George works customer service with his Gogy magic.

Wilbur works with the sheep, the goats, and he trains the dogs (Collies - they herd sheep), he also works with the crops a lot

Schlatt isn't hired but he might as well be. He can be found wherever Wilbur is, and is probably drinking a beer he stole from Phil. He doesn't get paid, but he eats all of their food.

Tommy works with the cows, the pigs, the chickens, the horses (sometimes), his goose, and the dogs / cats that they own

Tubbo works with Tommy. Essentially. But he also works on the crops, and the bee farm that they have set up.

Techno works with the horses, and is currently training to be a veterinarian.

Dream works on horses with Techno - they race the horses competitively - but otherwise, is where ever he is needed (usually crops)

Purpled works with Tommy and Tubbo. He mostly works with Tubbo on crops and his bee farm.

Punz and SapNap haul things. As your resident Chads, they are in-charge of moving heavy things and doing manual labor.

Callahan is their repair man. He fixes tractors, and machines on a daily basis.

SOME HEADCANNONS: 

HENRY, a saga:

that henry has a matching bandana to the one Tommy has so that everyone knows thats henry. Tommy doesn't like it when people touch henry so henry gets a bandana - Shark -

when Phil first started raising Tommy, he would've never guessed that he would turn out the way he did.

He was loud, and brash, and hit his brothers, and made fun of the neighbor's kids,  but then Tubbo became Tommy's best friend, and then Phil introduced Tommy to the cows.

The cows are Tommy's everything.

When a Bred Heifer is due, he sits with them everyday past their due date - he sat with Betty for 5 days when she wouldn't birth a calf. He was so fucking worried.

When one of his cows are sick, he sleeps in the barn until they get better. His last days with Harvey fucked him up.

Tubbo, Tommy, Purpled, and Ranboo spend long nights at the farm, and Tommy always leans against Henry as he stares up at the stars.

Henry who his best girl (all cows are girls and Tommy doesn't give a shit about gendered names). Henry who wears a matching bandana. Henry who is fluffy, and warm, and Tommy's everything. -

Sometimes when Tommy had a bad day, whether it’s stress, or school, or just whatever, Tommy sleeps in the Henry’s stall with her. Phil has so many pictures of Tommy curled up with Henry. From when she was first born to now. - Eye

Tommy hates winter because that’s the one time of year Phil won’t let him sleep in the barn. Even with the layers and heat lamps it’s too unsafe. Tommy always gets up extra early in the winter. Both because he has to check and break ice in the water troughs but also because he misses his girl - Eye -

Henry's mother, Betty, was the first Cow Tommy had helped during birth. He sat with her for 5 days when she hadn't gone into labor past her due date. It took 9 hours for Henry to be born, and Tommy was there through the entire thing -

Well, almost the entire thing. He was at school for the first hour of labor, and was so pissed at Phil when Phil knew and didn't immediately come get Tommy from School.

It always felt like Tommy and Henry had a special bond because Tommy literally raised Henry from birth. -

They didn't think Henry was gonna make it when she was first born, but Tommy was fucking determined, and bottle fed that cow every single day and night. When she was slowly weened off milk, Tommy got unironically sad that he didn't have to bottle feed her anymore.

He still visited her every morning, and milked her mother at dawn, right after he got eggs from his hens. -

Henry waits for Tommy at the end of their long ass drive way when he gets home from school. She knows that when the bus pulls up that her boy is back and so she’s always there waiting lazily for pets and a nice walk together back to the house. Even when it’s cold and someone is waiting for the kids to get home in an ATV or something Tommy always walks back to the house with Henry - Eye

Thinking about how long these fucking country roads are. And how Tommy and Tubbo have the same bus stop even though Tubbo and Tommy's houses are a couple of miles away. Tommy has to walk a mile to get to the beginning of his driveway, and seeing his favorite girl there is like a reward at the end of a journey. Tommy probably keeps a bag of feed in his backpack, which is just a mixture of grain, hay and corn, and gives Henry a handful to thank her for waiting for him.

Clementine, The Goose: 

Tommy has a goose, and names it Clementine. 

He found her in the woods one day, when she was very young, and he decided he was going to keep Clementine. 

Clementine is only ever nice to Schlatt and Tommy. No one knows why. 

Clementine follows Tommy around. Very endearing. 

Phil doesn’t question it at this point 

NEW MILO, the sequel:

OG Milo is a kitten that Wilbur found on the side of the road, in the rain, and he took the kitten in, trying to save him. Wilbur immediately got attached.

Techno pulled an all nighter, half spent  trying to save OG Milo and the other half comforting Wilbur. "You couldn't have helped, he was too starved and out in the rain for too long." Phil adds that if Techno can't save something, it can't be saved. - Ethan

Wilbur's next cat was named New Milo in honor - Ethan

Anyway, New Milo has three kittens. Blood God, Boots (given to Fundy), and Bumbles (given to Tubbo). They're called the Bees and they were born Christmas Eve - Ethan

BLOOD GOD, the pussy:

Blood God is Techno's cat. Its just a ferall little molly that loves techno too much. - M -

After Techno helped New Milo have her litter, he wasn't originally gonna keep any of the kittens, but he saw this tiny thing with the orange muzzle and just: stole her.

He is also nicknamed Blood God, for both his skill in hunting and healing

He originally named her Piglet because the orange spot looked like a pig snout [the main reason he chose her and not her stronger littermates] but called her Blood God teasingly when he first adopted her

Wilbur didn't realize he meant it as a nickname and told everyone her name was Blood God

Techno still calls her Piglet, but everyone else calls her Blood God because that's the name on her collar.

Most of their cats aren't collared, but Phil made her a custom collar because he was worried she'd get lost hunting with Techno and Dream - Ethan -

Blood God is such a batshit cat. She's a runt, really, oddly small compared to her siblings, and she's their best mouser

She's the cat that everyone leaves scraps for, but never tries to pet out of fear

Often she'll climb up people's legs and sit on their shoulders, and it's the only time you can pet her.

She is very, very affectionate with Techno and he loves her very much. He has her very well trained, and she comes with him and Dream when they go hunting sometimes alongside a terrier.

She's a little itty bitty calico molly and she has an orange patch right over her muzzle - Ethan

TOMMY'S HENS, the chicks:

He gets real defensive of his hens. They lay eggs for him. They deserve to be treated well. -

Tommy does in fact have an egg incubator; Sometimes it's just better. Tommy prefers letting his hens care for their own eggs, but he does still use the incubator - Ethan -

Some chickens enjoy being thrown so they can flap and shit. A few days after passing ownership of the hens to Tommy, Phil is going down to the crops and just sees Tommy chucking his hens and watching them rush back to be thrown again

he feels a hint of "what the hell" but he notes the gentleness tommy does it with and how the chickens seem to be enjoying it and he shrugs and keeps walking - Ethan -

Once Wilbur was helping Tommy with the chickens and he dropped an egg

Unfertilized, of course, but Tommy looked like you'd just punted a toddler

Three years later, Wilbur isn't allowed to touch the eggs anymore

Tommy's paranoid he'll hurt a live one

"Get out." "What - Tommy it was an accident, it was just one egg." "If you aren't gonna treat Phoebe's eggs with care; You can get the fuck out." "Tommy -" "Out." -

the quality chicken eggs depends usually on how the chicken feels. While under his care, the eggs the chickens produced were really good.

Under Tommy's care? Phil's eggs tasted like horseshit in comparison - Ethan -

They have their like, main barn and to the side of it is a little pond. The chicken coops are a little beside it, with the singular duck coop (he only has four ducks) closest. He calls the area the Business Bay

AGES: 

Tommy - 16 Tubbo - 16 Purpled - 17 Ranboo - 17

Techno - 19 Wilbur - 21 Schlatt - 19 Phil - idk like 45 or some dad shit

Fundy - 18 Niki - 19

SapNap - 18 Dream - 19 George - 20 Punz - 19 Callahan - 20

RANDOM HC’S: 

Tubbo, Niki, Ranboo, and Fundy are siblings. -

Whenever they eat meat they talk about who they're eating. 

They tell stories about their day and such but they always start dinner, when its meat, saying "rip lmao" and telling stories about them

...they don’t do it when they eat beef

Everyone sitting down with their plates of ham Wilbur: so who was it? Phil: Fern Tommy, already eating: rest in peace fern Techno: he shat on my boots once -

Each of the boys get a few animals that aren't allowed to be butchered.

Wilbur has Friend, Enemy, and Skit the Bull. (Wilbur wanted to name a Bull "Shit", but Phil said no because Tommy was 11 and already swearing too much for his liking)

Techno has none of the livestock. He only cares about Blood God, and his horses.

Tommy has a pig [currently unnamed], his Hens (6 or 7 of them, that lay eggs), and his dairy cows -

Phil is ALWAYS chewing on straw. -

Tommy, Techno, and Wilbur all call Phil "Pops" or "Pop". They all used to call him "Papa" though. It's like a coming of age thing for the three of them, when they stop calling him "Papa" and start calling him "Pop".

Phil may or may not have cried when Tommy started calling him "Pop" at the age of 12.

ALTHOUGH, all 3 boys know that if you want anything, you call Phil "Papa". Phil can't resist it. -

Techno and Tommy with starry eyes: pops Phil: no Wilbur: Papa Phil, with slightly less confidence: n-no   - Ethan -

Tommy holding a baby calf in his hands that he walls to bring inside for the night because hes in love with her: papa please!! Phil, practically in tears: fine.   - M

[zimms]

do you know that reddit post that's like "i'm in quarantine with my roommate (we're both dudes) and we've been cuddling together a lot. am i gay?" because at least to me it has big olliewicks vibes

hey dude! i’m sorry this is so late, but hopefully you’ll like it! 

Ollie groggily awakens to the feeling of two strong arms wrapped around his stomach, holding him close and grounding him. He lets out a sigh of contentment before squeezing his eyes shut and burrowing his head slightly further into the tangle of bodies, pursuing the warm heat of the other person. The body beneath him shifts slightly, emitting a slight groan and disturbing Ollie’s brief peace. That’s when he realises three things.

They’re in the middle of a pandemic.

His only human contact in the past two months, other than cashiers at their local grocery store, has been Wicky.

The person beneath him is definitely Wicky. Ollie can feel it in every plane, every angle, every curve of the body he’s laying on top of. It’s in the way that Wicky’s breathing slightly stutters after every inhale. He knows it’s Wicky because every inch of Wicky’s body is unique and Ollie’s memorised all of them. So yeah, definitely Wicky.

Ollie takes a moment to just breathe and catalogue the situation. He cracks an eye open and he immediately heaves a sigh of relief; they’re both wearing clothes, which means that they didn’t do anything that either of them might regret. Well, or at least, nothing that Ollie might regret; he can’t speak for whether or not Wicky might regret even cuddling him, let alone anything else. 

He cranes his neck slightly to catch sight of the TV, where the Netflix Are you still watching? screen stares back at him. Oh yeah, they’d been watching Tiger King together on the couch before they’d fallen asleep on top of each other. 

Ollie braces his hands on either side of Wicky and slowly rolls off of his best friend, careful not to land on the squeaky couch spring and wake him up. He slides slowly to the floor and places his head in his hands. 

Fuck. 

He squeezes his eyes shut and groans as quietly as he can into his palms. He’s been doing so well at tamping down his crush on Wicky up until now, but something inside of Ollie has ignited after spending the night in such close proximity to him. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to pretend when Wicky wakes up that he didn’t savour every moment that his skin was pressed against Wicky’s, that he doesn’t know exactly what Wicky looks like when he’s sound asleep, that he hasn’t memorised the way their chests rose and fell against each other in perfect synchrony.

Ollie shakes his head before pushing himself to his feet and padding into the kitchen to get breakfast. That’s enough thinking for today.

----

Ollie shifts his weight from side to side as he leans outside of George’s office and listens to the sound of chairs scraping behind the door. Thank fuck, they’re almost done; he’s been leaning against this wall for twenty goddamn minutes and his feet are aching. He straightens up as the door swings open and he plasters a grin on his face; no matter how annoying a long wait is, scowling probably isn’t the best first impression when you’re meeting your new employer. 

However, Ollie’s grin disintegrates when he sees the guy that comes out of the office and instead his mouth drops open. 

Holy fuck. 

Ollie unashamedly stares at the guy as he ambles down the corridor. God, every inch of him is pure perfection. From cheekbones that could cut glass, to wide brown eyes that seem to reflect and emit light until the whole corridor illuminates with this guy’s presence. From the lopsided grin that plays across his face, to the biceps that are way too big for the sleeves of his Falcs t-shirt. Ollie lets his eye’s slide to the guy’s ass; yeah, that’s definitely a hockey player. 

He’s stunning.

And, the little voice in the back of Ollie’s mind pipes up, a teammate.

Ollie slumps down the wall again and groans. He’s so fucked. 

----

Ollie had hoped that he’d be able to avoid all thoughts of his crush on Wicky for a while, well, preferably forever. He’s always been so careful to never let their cellies on the ice go too far, never letting Wicky kiss him on the helmet like he does every other player, never letting their hugs last for too long, never actively seeking out physical affection from him other than quick bro hugs and a slap on the back. 

The universe has other plans for him apparently.

That one night of couch cuddling seems to have opened the floodgates, because all of a sudden Ollie’s inundated by a tidal wave of physical affection from Wicky and it’s just becoming too difficult. Too difficult to ignore the onslaught of butterflies in his stomach when their hands brush slightly when they’re reaching for the salt at the dinner table. Too difficult not to stare at him when they’re watching a movie next to each other on the couch and he shifts over slightly so that their legs are touching. Too difficult to even begin to process and cope with the fact that Wicky has started coming into Ollie’s room to fucking cuddle with him. It’s too difficult because Ollie is finally allowing himself to hope and he doesn’t even fucking know if Pacer, Wicky, Pace, is anything other than straight. 

It’s just too goddamn difficult to be around his best friend. 

Ollie smiles down at where Pacer has tucked himself underneath his right arm, eyes softly shut and a peaceful smile playing across his face, and he feels his heart breaking. If he wants to preserve their friendship beyond this quarantine in any way shape or form, he needs to stop indulging himself like this. What if Pacer’s angry because Ollie’s taken advantage of him because Ollie’s using this- this thing between them to selfishly fulfill his own wants? What if Pacer’s only comfortable doing this because he thinks Ollie’s straight? What if-

Ollie squeezes his eyes shut and curls his hand into the sleeve of Pacer’s shirt, forcing that line of thought to come screeching to a halt before it becomes a trainwreck. He needs to stop thinking like that; Pacer’s not gonna abandon him after three years of friendship and being lineys because of some no homo, bro bullshit. Or at least, Ollie hopes he wouldn’t. Pacer’s not that kind of person. 

(Aww, fuck. He also needs to stop referring to him as Pacer in his head. He needs to distance himself from Wicky somehow, and he’s definitely not going to pull away from him physically, especially as they’re each the other’s only source of human contact for the next month or nine, so emotional distancing will have to do.)

He heaves a sigh and lets himself slump against the headboard, careful to make sure that Wicky’s head doesn’t fall too quickly from where it’s leant against Ollie’s shoulder. Wicky stirs at the sudden movement  and his eyes slowly open, a sleepy beam playing across his face and chestnut eyes staring intently at Ollie like he’s the moon gazing upon the sun. 

Ollie muffles a groan. He just doesn’t know what to think anymore. 

----

The second that Ollie and Pacer Wicks step onto the ice together for the first time it feels electric. They complement each other in every way; Pacer skates slightly faster than Ollie does, whilst Ollie has a slightly more accurate pass that finds Pacer every single time. It’s like they were made for each other. 

It’s fantastic.

(It’s torturous.)

Ollie finds himself spending even more time with Wicky than he originally planned for, and things just keep going from good to great. 

(They go from bad to worse)

They have the same taste in films to the extent that they now have a monthly The Princess Bride rewatch. They’re both cat people and it’s slipped into their pre-game routine to go for a walk together, looking for the neighbourhood cats and calling pspspspsp to them in the hopes that they’ll come running and grant them good luck before the game. They’ve won every game that they’ve stroked a cat before, so Ollie isn’t really inclined to let go of the superstition, and, judging by the way Wicky grins at the little fuzzballs, Wicky is equally reluctant to stop their pre-game walks. The best thing they have in common is that both of their leases are up at the end of this month; who’s Ollie to pass up the opportunity to live with the guy that’s rapidly becoming the most important person in his life?

(Ollie’s an absolute fool. Living with Wicky is going to kill him very slowly and definitely isn’t the way to rid himself of a crush that’s quickly morphing into something even more serious. 

Ollie is, once again, fucked.)

----

Ollie tries to pull away slowly rather than withdrawing all physical affection at once. It’s painful, but if it keeps Wicky from hating him, Ollie will gladly do it. Heck, if it was to protect Wicky, Ollie would do anything. 

He starts slowly. He shifts over a bit on the couch, leaving a deliberate gap between them on the couch, so that no wandering limbs can reach out for each other. He makes sure to hold out the condiments at dinner, so that there’s no way for either of them to find an excuse for their fingers to touch, no matter how much Ollie hungers for it. He starts spending more time in his room, doing his online college courses there, rather than in the living room like he usually does. He goes to bed earlier, hoping, wishing, praying that Wicks doesn’t try to join him for a cuddle. 

(Ollie ignores the little voice in the back of his mind that’s screaming to feel the press of Wicky’s warm body against his again. He ignores the wounded glances that he receives from Wicky every time he avoids eye contact. He ignores the aching pangs inside of his chest that appear whenever he spends too long gazing at Ollie.)

----

Moving in together is the best idea and the worst idea that Ollie’s ever gone along with.

Pros: He gets to spend every day with Wicky.

Cons: Spending every day with Wicky might actually kill him soon. RIP Oliver O’Meara. Cause of Death: Walking into the kitchen and seeing Wicky topless and sleep rumpled, muscles rippling as he reaches for the coffee. 

Pros: He knows Wicky almost as well as he knows himself.

Cons: He now knows that Wicky is hung up on someone after one particularly drunken ramble.

(Fuck.)

----

It’s a week after the first cuddling incident that Wicky pulls open the door to Ollie’s room and marches in, eyebrows lowered and eyebags darker than ever. Ollie immediately slams the lid of his laptop shut, straightening up from where he’s slumped against the headboard of his bed. He frowns. “What’s up, Wicky?”

Wicky freezes on the other side of the room. “What’s up?” he says, voice cracking and strangled. Yikes, this must be worse than Ollie thought it was. “You’re asking me what’s up?” He drops onto the bed, like a stone sinking to the bottom of a river. “You’re the one that’s disappeared recently.” He pushes the heels of hands into his eyes. “We used to do everything together and now whenever I look for you, you’re in here.” He tears his hands away from his face, to gesture frantically around the room. Wicky appears to be manic; his hair’s all ruffled and there’s this slightly crazed look in his eyes. “What did I do, Ol?”

Ollie scrambles out of bed to come and sit next to Wicky. He stretches out a hand to comfort Wicky, but withdraws it as he fumbles for what to do or say. “You didn’t do anything, Pace,” he says softly, resisting the urge to reach out and swipe away the tears that are trickling intermittently down his cheeks. “It’s me that’s the problem.”

Wicky raises an eyebrow at him, stare stern in spite of the crying. “Really? So you’re completely fine with me cuddling you? And definitely didn’t start shutting down any of my attempts to spend time with you?” Ollie flinches and Wicky scoffs. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“I-” Ollie trails off, eyes wandering until his gaze meets Wicky’s. The look in Wicky’s eyes isn’t scornful, no matter how much it deserves to be, instead his eyes are calm and fathomless like the earth after a long-anticipated rain. “I didn’t want to hurt you, though I clearly failed in that respect. I’m just so worried that you’re going to think less of me, especially once I tell you that-” Ollie clamps his mouth shut, as words he’s barely even thought to himself start to tumble out into the open.

“Tell me that..?” If Ollie didn’t know any better, he’d think that there was a trace of hope in Wicky’s voice. “C’mon, Ol, I’m not gonna leave you, no matter what you say.”

Ollie rubs his hand across his eyelids before stuttering out, “I’m in love with you.” Shit, that is not what he meant to say. “Fuck, I mean, I like you. Romantically.” He hides his face in his hands. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, so I figured going cold turkey for a couple of days might do me some good.” He pulls his hands from his face suddenly and lets them drop to his knees. “Is that what you wanted to hear? That I like you? That I might be, fuck it, I am in love with you?”

The silence in the room answers that question for him and Ollie feels a tear roll down his face and a gutteral sob tear its way from his throat. 

“Fuck, Ol,” Pacer says, scrubbing a weary hand across his face, and that’s when Ollie knows that it’s all over, that he’s going to be rejected by the most important person in his life. “That’s definitely not what I was expecting, but it’s not unwelcome by any means.”

It’s not?

Ollie suppresses a sniffle as he voices this sentiment aloud. 

Pacer laughs, honest to God, laughs. “It’s actually very welcome, considering the fact that I’ve been pining for you since long before you got traded to Providence.”

He’s what-?

“I-” Ollie stumbles over the words, cheeks heating, “but you’re straight? And you’re hung up on someone?”

Pacer swipes a thumb across Ollie’s cheek, tracing the trail of his blush. “Ol, when did I ever say I was straight?” he asks, his gaze intently focused on Ollie. “Anyway, it’s always been you.” He leans in closer, breathing out one final word before sealing their lips together. “Always.”

[itstittycitybaby]

Flirty and Lin Halloween Special

a/n: ok before you all come and fuck me, this is just a special alright. the timeline is non existent. thinking of a christmas special now but flirty is wearing the santa outfit that regina george wears. also thank you to the anon for giving me this idea and giving me premission to write it! it was sooo much fun :)). with that being said here’s tonight’s halloween special. 

Warnings: NSFW 18+,mommy kink, slight pet play?, degradation, thigh riding.

It was stupid really. Halloween was a holiday where drunken idiots paraded around and made stupid decisions. If you were to ask the police in Republic City what day they arrested people the most on, all of them would collectively agree that it was Halloween night. Which meant more paper work to file and sign and an even grumpier Chief.

“Plllleeeeaseeee, it’ll be soo much fun! For old times sake?” Lin regretted agreeing to showing up to Asami’s mansion for a foolish party. But the way you pleaded and batted your lashes made Lin feel weak. You knew if you batted your lashes and asked sweetly, Lin would give you anything. Even the damn moon. So, here she was.

Lin stepped into the mansion. Cheesy pumpkin decorations and spooky ghosts  hung throughout the entrance of the manor. Fog from smoke machines whisped around the main entrance. Lights winkled and hung from the banisters of the stairs in a pattern of red, orange, and yellow. Lin had to give Asami credit for the decorations. She really outdone herself.

“Chief!” Lin groaned. She hoped to sneak in unnoticed but fate seemed to have other plans in store. “What,” she grumbled at Mako. “Just surprised to see you,” he answered, a drink in hand. Bolin stood beside him talking to some girl in a green ball gown and gold masquerade mask. Lin knew it wasn’t you, but she wished it was. At least then she wouldn’t have to talk to these idiots.

 “I’m surprised I even bothered to show up,” she snarked. “I’m glad you did,” Asami piped up with a cheerful smile, revealing fake fangs. She wore a black lace dress with a slit and low cut on the top. A train of black lace pooled around her feet. There was fake red blood under her lips. ‘Typical’. “Nice costume,” Asami said, pointing to the cat ears on Lin’s head. You had begged her to at least wear something festive instead of her armor. “Thanks,” Lin muttered. Her eyes shifted around the room. She seemed to be searching from something. Searching for you.

Mako and Asami glanced at each other awkwardly. The air became tense and uncomfortable but Lin ignored it. She was busy trying to find your face in the crowd. “There’s refreshments in the ball room with some dancing. Knock yourself out!” Giving one last smile to Lin, Asami left her alone with the two idiot brothers, black lace pillowing behind her. It was going to be a long night.

****

 Lin’s heart stopped. The infamous pink silk bunny suit was back. She didn’t know you even still had it. It barely covered your chest and it made your ass pop out. White fluffy bunny ears sat on your head and there was a little white puff ball sitting above your ass. On your thighs were pink heart garters with white thigh high stockings.

The choker topped it all off. It was pink with frilly white lace on the sides and a pink bow with a bell stuck in the middle. It rang softly every time you moved. You were chatting with some of the guests while pouring a fruity drink. Bolin had been the first to see you. His eyes popped out of his head and his jaw hung open. Lin scoffed and her brows furrowed, looking in the direction his eyes fell. Lin felt her face become red and her lips pulled into a sneer; she was absolutely seething. How dare that idiot gawk at you like that? Her eyes narrowed dangerously, lips curling. 

“See something you like,” she barked. “N-no m’am,” Bolin stammered, eyes snapping away from yours. His gaze fell to his shoes and he stubbornly refused to look up. Lin could see Bolin’s cheeks scarlet. Mako coughed with his cheeks turning pink and refused to glance in your direction. “E-excuse us Chief,” Mako mumbled, pulling his brother by the back of the collar. Lin ignored him and trained her eyes on you.

****

“Bumi!” Your best friend turned around. A cigar hung out of his lips and a glass of rum in cupped in his hand. Bumi’s eyes lit up once he saw you. “Oof,” he grunted from the bone crushing hug you gave him. You smelt faintly of cotton candy.

“Ya look great! never thought I’d see this again” Bumi said, gesturing to the signature bunny costume. You giggled, “Thanks! Lin’s probably already been threatening people because of it.”

Bumi let out a booming laugh. Several glances were thrown your way but you didn’t care. You missed him. It had been so long since you’ve seen your best friend. Bumi was a kindhearted soul who was very thoughtful (even if his brother and Lin disagreed). You could always count on him.

“She was always a jealous one wasn’t she?” You nodded, sipping the vodka in your punch and relishing the burn that traveled down your throat. Asami mentioned there wasn’t going to be any alcohol, so you snuck a tiny bottle of liquor in your costume. It would be lame without a drink. The vodka made the fruit punch taste a little more bitter. How Lin could drink vodka straight up was beyond you.

“How’s er..the lad doing?” You smiled sadly at the mention of your brother. “Good enough. Haven’t been able to see him in a while. You know how he is, working and stressing himself out to the max.”

“Jus’ like a bright inventor I know. They work too hard on themselves.” You smiled, “Well, we know where he gets it from.” The two of you stood next to each other in comfortable silence. Bumi seemed lost in thought as he swirled his glass full of rum around. “Is Tenzin here?” He chuckled at the light snarkiness in your voice. You never seemed to let go of the grudge you held against Bumi’s brother. 

He followed your gaze to the dance floor. People were piled on it and dressed in different costumes. Their hips swung to the pulsing beat. The floor was foggy from the smoke machine and balloons glided through the air as they floated up and down. “Nah,” Bumi scoffed, “mentioned Pema taking the kids out trick or treating..I think.” You hummed. From what you heard Tenzin’s wife seemed nice but..you always held a grudge. 

“Hey guys!” You and Bumi turned to Korra and Asami. “Hey,” you replied happily. “Great decorations Asami!” She grinned, fake fangs glinting in the light. “Thanks! It took so long to get the lights up there.” She gestured to the twinkling yellow, red, and orange lights scattered onto the ceiling of the ballroom.

“You look great!” You grinned, “Thanks Korra! Decided to dig this one up from the good ol’ days.” “Must be why Lin was so grumpy earlier,” Asami piped up, a knowing smirk on her face. You chuckled. “Seems I’ve lost her. She’ll find me eventually.” The three of you chatted a bit more before Asami and Korra excused themselves. Asami’s dress trailed elegantly behind her and an elegant arm around Korra’s shoulders. They both looked hot tonight.

“When do you think the two of them will get together,” Bumi asked. “Twenty bucks says in a week.” Bumi grinned, taking your outstretched hand and shaking it. “Deal.”

As Bumi rambled on about something, you could feel the eyes staring in your back. Tingles traveled down your spine and your blood ran cold. The idea of someone watching you made you nervous. You glanced around, but there was no face in the crowd.

It’s fine, just being paranoid, you thought as you tuned into the conversation. You had turn a second too early, for most of the crowd dispersed from the floor, revealing a cat ready to pounce.

****

Lin watched your hips swing around on the dance floor. The bunny suit made your ass swell even more. Spirits, how she missed this outfit. You didn’t notice her hungry stare as she observed from afar. 

You looked so happy dancing the night away. Lin had stalked you like a cat watching its pray as the night became older. You were always a social butterfly and loved sweeping the crowed off its feet. Anyone in your eyes deserved a chance to have fun despite Lin’s grumbling when the two of you went out. Still, it surprised her that you were friends with Tenzin’s oaf of a brother. But you were kind and caring, even if you were naive. 

Lin chuckled darkly as she weaved her way through people’s sweating bodies. The grime between people and their dancing was disgusting, but she shook it off. Her mission was getting to you.

You were a few yards away from Lin. Her footsteps became slower and more calculated the closer she got. Your back was turned to her as you moved to the music. Lin loved how vulnerable you were. So unaware and carefree. At first glance you seemed innocent and sweet, but Lin knew better. No, you were naughty to the bone.

As you were about to turn around, Lin pounced. Her arms wrapped around the front your body, chest pressing up against your back. You squeaked, much to Lin’s delight. Her dark red lips pressed gently against the shell of your ear. You shivered, trying to wiggle out of her grip. Lin’s arms tightened around you as a warning, trapping you against her.

You shivered as her dark chuckle sent goosebumps down your bare spine. “Ah ah ah,” Lin tutted, pressing you even closer. Her armor was cold and the metal dug into your back. “Seems like I’ve caught me a little rabbit.”

Your cheeks flushed red and you let out a whine. Lin laughed; its dark tone made you excited and nervous. Her lips kissed your ear gently. She trailed her lips down from your jaw to your neck. You shivered again making Lin hum. She nuzzled into your neck and inhaled. “Cotton candy hm? How fitting.” You swallowed thickly, eyes darting to the crowd. No one seemed to be paying attention to the two of you. That was good.

Lin followed your gaze. “Think they’re watching? Seeing what a slutty bunny you are? Maybe they should watch us, so they know what happens to whores prancing around waiting to be bent over. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” You muffled a soft whimper and clamped your thighs together. Lin chuckled and kissed the side of your neck gently. She barely even started and you were already so needy.

“Too bad I don’t like to share what’s mine,” she whispered softly into your ear. Her words swept across your skin making you tremble. Lin’s fingers traveled up your chest and to the pink choker around you neck. The lace was delicate and soft in her fingers as she tugged on it softly. The bell jingled loud enough for the two of you to hear over the music. “Fuck,” she cursed softly, “What I’d give to fuck you with that collar on.”

“L-Lin,” you whimpered, face burning with shame. Lin smirked, letting the collar go. Your lips pulled into a pout as her arms let go of you. “Meet me in the closet in the main hallway. First one to the left. Five minutes. Or else.” She smacked your ass making you squeak. It stung only a little but still hard enough to where you rubbed it gently. “In a second I just gotta-” You turned around to see her. She was gone.

****

You tore through the floor quickly, running through the crowds. Damn these heels! Were you desperate? Maybe to other people but dammit you wanted to get fucked so hard in this suit!

Your heels clacked onto the tile floor. “Hey Y/N!” ‘God fucking-’ “Yes,” you gritted out, turning to find Asami. “Going somewhere?” You hated the smirk and the knowing twinkle in her eye. She held in a laugh at the dark lipstick marks on your neck. “Just gotta pee,” you lied, turning to bolt like your life depended on it. “Don’t let me stop you,” Asami said winking. You grumbled, cheeks flaming with shame as you hurried to the closet.

****

You almost cried with joy as you faced the closet door. You had gotten there just in the nick of time. Asami had almost put your life on the line but you made it. You glanced around quickly to make sure no other party goers were watching. ‘Coast’s clear’. As you opened the door, a hand reached out and yanked you in there.

You yelped as your back was shoved into the wall. A hand clamped over your mouth tightly. The door closed with a soft thud. The sound of the lock turning made you tingle with excitement. “Shhh,” Lin cooed, fingers slowly trailing up to your chest. “Don’t want anyone to find us hm?” You whimpered as her fingers lightly rubbed over your nipples. The sensation was muffled from the silk bunny suit covering them.

You tried tugging the suit down to let your chest free, but a hand smacked you. You grumbled, rubbing the top of your hand softly. “Keep it on.” “Yes mommy,” you whined. “Good bunny,” Lin cooed softly. She smirked as she felt you tremble underneath her. 

Lin kissed your jaw softly. You let out a sigh, wrapping your hands around her shoulders. Her soft lips trailed down your neck with kisses and bites. Once Lin got to the side that drove you wild she started sucking. “Mmm~,” you moaned softly as she sucked purple hickeys into your skin. Lin’s left thumb pressed lightly against your nipple. The silky fabric sent tingles down your spine. Her other hand cupped your jaw lightly. She suckled lightly under your jaw, knowing that place drove you wild. You moaned softly as her thumb rubbed your nipple harder.

 Her lips pulled away from your neck. You grumbled, making Lin snort. “Suck,” she commanded, swiping her right thumb over your pink glossy lips.

Immediately, you took the finger in her mouth. Lin hummed as your tongue swirled around her it. Your warm and wet lips wrapped around her thumb, coating it in spit. You nibbled on the tip of her thumb gently, smearing her finger with pink gloss. She always went wild seeing your mouth a mess after choking or slobbering all over whatever she gave you.

Lin pulled away. The sound making a wet pop. You whined pathetically. “Be a good bunny and take what I give you. Don’t want to be punished do you?” “No mommy, I’ll be good I promise.” “Good rabbit,” Lin purred, pinching your nipple lightly as a reward. Your brain felt hazy and dizzy already. The closet was pitch black and you wished you could see her. You were afraid of the dark, but with Lin kissing and sucking in all the right places, she was the only thing you could focus on.

Her lips smashed against yours and she nibbled on your bottom lip. You bit her lip playfully and refused to open them in retaliation. She growled against your mouth, fingers inching up to your chest. You mewled as they pinched and rubbed your left nipple over the silk. It felt so smooth and cool over your chest. Lin slipped her tongue through your lips. She stroked her tongue along the roof of your mouth, and you moaned whenever she finally sucked on yours. The feeling of her red lipstick mixing with your gloss made you cringe. Lin grinned wickedly against your lips. She always loved to make you messy and needy.

 Your knees held your trembling legs up. They quivered and you felt weak pinned to the wall, feeling dizzy. “Lin,” you whimpered, pulling away from her lips. “I’m gonna fall.” 

Lin chuckled. “Can’t have that can we?” The sound of her metal armor shifting rang in your ears. In the distance the music could be heard along with some outside chatter.

You whined as her knee slid between your legs, thigh jutting against your crotch. Your body became hot and prickly as her thigh brushed up against you. “What did I say about keeping quiet? If you keep moaning like a whore, I’ll fuck you in this closet for everyone to hear what happens to a needy slut,” Lin hissed.

Her right hand cupped your throat, fingers splayed gently on the sides of it. Your heart thumped in your chest with anticipation. 

You squeaked as a harsh slap came down onto your thigh. “I asked you a question, bitch. Answer me.” “Sorry,” you whined, “I’m sorry, I’ll be quiet!” Lin smirked, satisfied with your answer. “Good. Now grind on my thigh and cum like the good whore you are. If you do, I might consider fucking you silly with my strap tonight.”

Lin laughed once you jumped down on her thigh with eagerness. You bit your lip harshly and focused on your breathing as you shifted slowly. A small amount of relief poured through your body. “Keep going,” she commanded, left hand ghosting over your chest again. 

Eventually, you got a good rhythm down. Your rocked your hips and rubbed your crotch down on Lin’s thigh. “Mmm~,” you moaned softly, trying so hard to keep quiet. Lin smirked, her fingers squeezing the sides of your throat gently. Blood rushed to your head as you focused on breathing. The high from grinding on Lin’s thigh, and the pleasure combined with her hand wrapped around your throat felt so good.

“What I’d give to see that stupid look on your face. You’ve just barely started and I’ve already got you turning into a dumb fucking bunny.” Whimpering, you grinded down faster. Your hips were already getting tired and your legs began to ache.

Lin’s hand suddenly let go of your throat. The rush of air that knocked into your chest made you choke. She snickered. “Good little rabbit,” she cooed. Lin leaned her head down. Her lips wrapped around your covered nipple and sucked. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” you whimpered. Her tongue felt so good over the satin and the way your hips rocked against her thigh made your core sing.

The closet was getting hotter and stuffier. The bell on your choker rang every time you straddled Lin’s thigh and used it to get off. Your cheeks were hot along with your arms and collarbone. There was sweat beading on your head, threatening to roll off of your brow.

 “Mommy,” you moaned softly. She hummed in reply, the vibrations on your nipple causing you to squeak. Her right hand slowly tugged down the bunny suit, revealing your chest bare and free.

You whimpered as the air hit your bare chest. Lin kissed your left nipple. Without the fabric covering it, the sensations were more powerful. Her lips wrapped around it softly and sucked gently. You whined and grinded harder. Your legs and knees burned so bad but you didn’t want to stop. You wanted to cum on your girlfriend’s thigh and let the whole world know who you belonged to.

The closet became more stuffy the longer the two of you were locked in here. It made you try harder and harder to get your release. Lin’s fingers gently swept over your right one. She rolled the soft bud between the pads of her fingers. Your brain turned into mush and your pleading became a mantra of Lin’s name. Your stomach curled with heat and your core burned with pleasure.

Lin’s lips kissed your chest as her finger’s worked your nipples. They were sore and ached from the sensitivity of being sucked on so harshly. Lin kissed between your chest before sucking the skin there. You groaned as the delicious pleasure buzzed through you. Her lips trailed all over your chest leaving hickies in their wake. Lin pulled away, fingers gently rubbing your nipples again. It made you hiss from how much it ached but Lin didn’t stop. “Are you gonna cum?” “Yessss,” you whined, crotch rubbing against her leg harshly. “Good. Cum on my thigh like the naughty bunny you are.”

Lin smashed her lips against yours to muffle your cries. You trembled as you came, body trembling and shaking against the wall. She smirked against your lips at the sound of the bell on your choker ringing loudly.

Lin held you up with her hands around your waist and gently removed her thigh between your legs. She kissed your forehead softly murmuring sweet things. “You did so well for me,” she praised, kissing all over your sweaty face and hot cheeks. “Can you stand?” 

“I think so.” She let go of you slowly, but her hands hovered around you in case you started to fall. Your knees trembled but you could stand even if it was a bit wobbly. “Yea, I can stand.” Lin smiled, pulling the string on the ceiling. You hissed softly as the closet light burned your eyes. 

“You look so sexy messed up like that,” Lin sighed, taking in your tossled hair and messed up lip gloss. You looked at her confused as she handed you her coat. She laughed, “Wear it. Unless you want someone to see my claim on you.” You sputtered, throwing on her jacket and zipping it up. It reached your knees and it would shield you from the cold air outside. Lin chuckled and sent you one last wink before slipping out of the closet. You waited a few more moments before running after her.

****

Asami, Bolin, Mako, and Korra, watched you zoom by them, yelling a quick “Bye guys!” over your shoulder.

“What’s her deal,” Mako asked brows furrowing deeply. Bolin refused to look up from anywhere but his drink and muttered a “I don’t know.” “It looks like they got attacked by a monster,” Korra said, her voice confused but mostly concerned. Asami grinned. She had gotten a good look at the dark red lipstick smeared all over your lips before you ran out. “Oh they were attacked by a monster alright. Quite a grumpy one.” 

Three heads turned to her with quizzical looks on their face. “What are you talking about?!” Asami snickered, sipping her wine. “Doesn’t matter,” she replied cryptically, “I have more people to host to.” Asami winked before turning away from them and left. The train of her black lace dress swept behind her as Korra and Mako watched her disappear into the crowd, very confused.

[masterwords]

Hi, how have you been? Are you still receiving applications? You know my Hotch/Rossi loves, I would like to see Hotch suffer (why apparently I can't help seeing him suffer) for Rossi shot, that those hours in the hospital Hotch really realizes how much he loves him and doesn't want to lose him, remembering the beginning of their romantic relationship and their friendship, I would like to see Jack equally worried about Rossi because he obviously loves him too. Thank you and again sorry if I can't help but ask for this couple Greetings be well

Hi! I wrote this up and it isn't romantic but it is definitely Hotch suffering over Rossi. I will still try to write more of what you specifically asked for but I kind of just let the story write itself and I think it turned out sweet. I promise I will do something romantic very soon! This one you can take as romantic or platonic, it's vague as far as what their relationship is. <3 (~1300 words)

***

“Hotch?” Prentiss asked, peeking into the hospital room. She could barely make out the shape of him curled up on a cot beside Rossi's bed, too long legs pulled awkwardly to his chest in an attempt to fit onto the piece of furniture. He was huddled under one thin blanket, still in his suit. She entered slowly and called his name again, a little louder but quiet enough not to be startling. He pried one eye open and inclined his head to see her through the dark, humming his response. She approached carefully and crouched before him. “You need to go home, sleep in your own bed,” she said and he closed his eyes again.

“Why?” he asked, his voice barely audible over the din of the machines. His family was gone, erased from his life by witness protection and there was nothing for him at his home but crushing quiet and George Foyet's voice in his head. He'd already tried going home when Morgan kicked him out, told him to go and shower, get some work done, take a run, anything but sit in that hospital room. Being alone with his thoughts was doing more harm than good, at least here he could get work done during the day and sleep peacefully, if not a little uncomfortably, at night. He'd spent so much time in and out of hospitals in the last year that it was almost comforting to hear the doctors being paged, the squeaking rubber soles rushing down the hall, being checked on hourly by nursing staff and doctors.

“You really need me to explain it to you?” she asked, rocking back on her haunches a little. “Come on, we're all worried about him too. Let us help.”

“It's fine,” he said, a little more firm than he'd intended. “You can stay if you want. Here,” he groaned, pulling himself upright. “You can have the cot.” He moved sleepily toward the chair in the corner and settled himself in, tucking himself under his jacket and closing his eyes. She frowned at him, glowering over his sheer stubbornness but she sat herself down on the cot because if he was going to behave so childishly she would do the same. He was welcome to sleep in a chair, she'd brought herself a blanket and had every intention of making herself comfortable, at first to help him but now at his expense. He didn't pay it any notice.

By the time the sunlight was trickling through the curtains and the 7am rounds had begun, Hotch was awake and rubbing at the stiffness in his neck. Prentiss opened her eyes and stretched herself out like a cat, tugging the blanket around her, glancing over at Hotch who looked like a miserable splotch of blacks and grays amid the cheery décor of the hospital room. He watched intently as the nurses read Rossi's vital signs and poked at him, checked his dressings, replaced IV bags. They were keeping him sedated, high on morphine, sleeping instead of giving the staff a hard time.

“What's your deal?” Prentiss asked once the nurses left. She leveled her glare at Hotch who just sat silently, staring at Rossi sleeping in his bed. He'd been awake sporadically, hadn't been alert enough to speak or move, hadn't really even recognized that anyone was in the room with him the last time. They had mentioned they were going to start easing the sedation throughout the day, see how he handled being awake.

“A member of my team was shot on my watch,” Hotch said softly and she rolled her eyes dramatically.

“Oh please. You've never camped out,” she began but he shot her a glare that told her she was dangerously close to overstepping even the casual nature of their friendship. “I'm just saying I think there's more to it. If you want to talk, Hotch, I'm here.”

He sighed and closed his eyes. “While I appreciate the offer,” he started, but he didn't finish and she didn't push. What was he going to say? The last thing he said to Rossi was mean, there was no other way around it. He'd been callous and cruel, said things that filled him with regret and there wasn't anything he could do to take it back or fix it. He pressed his hands to his face, drug them roughly down to his jaw, trying to rake the sleep from his bones. She watched him and she thought she understood, they'd been bickering the entire day about how things needed to happen, about the profile, about the police involvement, who should go where, and it wasn't surprising that things went bad. They were all mature enough to know things like this happened, everyone said things they might regret, bit their tongues when they shouldn't, made mistakes in the field. Those mistakes weren't usually punctuated by a gunshot wound to the abdomen, though, and she could see the guilt in Hotch's eyes plain as day. She wanted to hit Rossi, smack him until he woke up so Hotch could apologize, make it right, seeing the look on his face was going to kill her.

“Food? You look like you haven't eaten in days.”

“Prentiss...” he began, but she shook her head dismissively and stood, arching her back. Briefly, watching her stretch her thin frame, he saw an uncanny resemblance to Sergio and thought about all the comedians he'd heard talk about people looking like their animals. It was the first thought he'd had in days that brought him a tiny spark of joy.

“I'm going to the cafeteria and I'm bringing back breakfast. Clean yourself up, I don't eat with slobs.” He scoffed at her as she swept out of the room with her black sweater poncho flowing, thought about calling her the Wicked Witch and figured maybe he'd save that for later, keep it in his back pocket for the next time she sassed him good. Silence fell over the room and he sagged, hanging his head between his knees, replaying the moments before the shot over and over, the words that had stung as they flew out of his mouth. What he wouldn't give to have those seconds back, to bite back his childish anger at not being listened to because like it or not, Rossi turned out correct and if he'd listened more than he'd talked, Rossi wouldn't be hurt.

“Aaron?” came a soft voice breaking Hotch from his trance. He glanced up, saw Rossi's eyes on him, blinking slowly, smiling.

“I'm here, Dave,” he replied, standing, listening to his knees pop at the motion. He moved quickly and stood beside Rossi's bed, watched the slow, stiff way the man moved to get comfortable, noticed the way he looked infinitely calmer than Hotch ever had in a hospital bed. He wanted to apologize, opened his mouth to speak but his friend spoke first.

“Don't you dare,” Rossi whispered. “You're the leader, you made the...best call you could...I shouldn't have argued with you. Bad form.”

“It was the wrong call,” Hotch replied, pressing his hands together to stop them trembling, giving him away. Rossi shook his head slowly, closing his eyes. The morphine threatened to pull him back under, but he fought it, tried to stay present just a little longer.

“If I hadn't argued, wasted time, it would have been okay...” he said slowly, swallowing thick and opening his eyes again. “Not your fault, Aaron.” He held his hand up, its tremble matched Hotch's, and Hotch grabbed hold of it, squeezing lightly, smiling.

“I'm sorry,” Hotch whispered. Rossi nodded, forgiving him silently even if he'd already decided he didn't need it. Prentiss entered the room quietly, seeing the two of them, and she set her food down on the counter beside the sink.

“Go home, Aaron,” Rossi said finally, eyes darting from Prentiss and back to Hotch. “Get some real sleep. I don't want you in my room anymore.” Hotch nodded, giving Rossi's hand another squeeze with a chuckle before breaking away to grab his jacket. He noted that Prentiss had brought enough food to feed an army and as he made his way to the door she handed him a muffin and a bottle of orange juice with a wink.

“Don't worry, we won't get into too much trouble...” she assured Hotch as he left, and on his way out of the door he overheard Rossi ask if she'd brought the scotch or some vodka to go with that orange juice. He smiled and shook his head, knowing finally that Rossi was going to be okay.

[ickle-ronniekins]

to have and to hold

request from nonnie: Hey I'm 17 and still sleep with stuffed animals.... can you write something where George finds out and teases you about it? I know I'm a bit weird but I cuddle in my sleep so it's hoard stuffed animals or kidnap my cat (dangerous).

word count: 3.3k

pairing: george x reader

A/N: y’all i love this—totally nothing wrong with sleeping with stuffed animals, THEY’RE SO CUDDLY! and that’s what they’re for! thank you for reading and requesting, i’m so grateful for you all, and in case anyone’s wondering, i’m still irrevocably head over heels for these silly boys. also the title’s a tad misleading but there’s no marriage in this but it’s definitely all FLUFF because i’m a dork

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @bobduncanlover @dreamer821 | message me if you’d like to be added darlings!

The Sorting Hat cries Ravenclaw! as a young, brown haired girl jumps from the stool and gleefully makes her way over to her respective House table.

Everyone begins to clap, and although he doesn’t feel much like it, George does too.

He’s a bit taken aback when you say to him suddenly, “I can’t believe that was us only a few short years ago.”

Just a few months ago, it seemed as though your seventh and final year at Hogwarts was still a long while away. It couldn’t be creeping up that quickly, could it? You both met only six years ago in Transfiguration, but it feels like a lifetime. George grins at the memory. But now, sitting and watching the newest first years get placed into their Houses, he’s feeling the nerves of the finality of it all—even though you’re not there yet. Not exactly.

“Strange, isn’t it?” he asks you, watching another student jump up excitedly and run to the Hufflepuff table. More claps ensue. “There’s no way this is our last year here, right? We must be dreaming, or something.”

A small smile tugs at the edges of your lips, and George feels his insides go warm. “Of course,” you reply, “we’re dreaming.”

“Would you two quit being so melancholy?” Fred takes you by surprise when he kicks both of you underneath the table. “It’s our final year! It’s exciting! We’ve got loads of mischief planned, Y/N, and we expect your help.”

You roll your eyes. “There’s absolutely no way I’m going to be able to get out of this, is there?”

The twins smile and chorus together, “Nope.” before diving head first into the feast that’s just appeared in front of you all.

“Ah well—it is exciting, isn’t it? We’ve got a lot to look forward to!” you tell them, cutting into the piece of chicken on your plate, “and besides.. with whatever you two have planned? I reckon I’m bound for some type of adventure. Things could be worse, right?”

Just then, a sickeningly sinister giggle emits from the front of the Great Hall; the three of you look at a woman dressed in all pink, whose face resembles that of an old toad, chatting animatedly with Dumbledore who’s looking positively woebegone.

“Ugh,” you say, looking back and forth between the twins, “maybe I’ve spoken too soon.”

— -

You’re tiptoeing next to George in the middle of the corridor; you keep whirling around to check if anyone’s behind you. Months, you’ve been doing this. He can’t help but grin at your flustered state. “D’you really think this is a good idea?” you ask him stealthily as the two of you meander throughout the castle halls.

“Of course,” he replies, squeezing your hand. But inside, he’s just not entirely sure. By the sounds of what Harry’s said, getting detention with Umbridge is no walk in the park. He turns back to you and continues, “Don’t worry—Harry knows what he’s doing. Plus, we haven’t been caught yet, have we?” He jabs you in the ribs and teases you, “Where’s that sense of adventure we so admire? Oi, here’s Fred and Ginny.”

Just then, the two Weasley siblings round the bend and quite literally bump into you both. Fred says quietly, “Merlin help me—I can’t ever remember where this bloody room is,”

“Seventh floor, across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy,” you reply in a lowered voice, your eyes shifting across the corridors, “so you’ve got a flew floors to go, Freddie.”

Both he and George laugh; Fred continues, “You’d think after months of going to these meetings, I’d remember where it is?”

“Why am I not surprised?” Ginny elbows Fred, teasing him slightly. “C’mon then, let’s go—looks like the coast is clear,”

The four of you make your way up two more flights of steps, sneak past the tapestry, and finally find yourselves inside the Room of Requirement.

It’s an easy lesson today; with the impending Christmas holidays, everyone is in quite a chipper mood—the Room of Requirement has a light, airy feel to it, and everyone seems to be doing their best at all of the defensive magic Harry’s taught so far—even Neville! When he dismisses you for the day, noting that you probably won’t meet again until the New Year, a dramatic groan nearly shakes the room—it seems as though everyone wants to stay.

When you all land back in the common room and take a seat next to the fire, Fred immediately begins to market his and George’s products to a bunch of excited looking Gryffindors; to you, George just shrugs.

“Oh, that reminds me,” you begin, standing up from the couch and gesturing George toward the dormitory, “I think I’ve fixed that little issue with the Fever Fudge.”

George grins broadly; there’s not many people he and Fred trust with their products, but you? You’re basically a third owner. He stops short, though, at the stairs leading up to the girls dormitories. You shake your head and say, “No worry, most everyone’s gone home for the holidays already. Plus—I’ve already hoodwinked whatever spell the professors have cast.”

“So I won’t get caught, then?”

“Nah,” you reply, urging him forward, “I’m strangely brilliant at derailing bits of professional magic,”

He beams at you at this and follows up to the girls dormitory, leaving Fred with a room full of students eager to get their hands on all Weasley products.

It doesn’t look as different from the boys' dorms as he thinks; it’s pretty much the same setup, same four posters, similar looking curtains. He shrugs, thinking, Nothing to worry about, but when he notices you plop down on your bed, he suddenly feels his insides constrict. You pat the spot next to you and say, “Well c’mere, won’t you?”

He places himself down next to you, careful not to mess your very neat bedspread, while he watches you rummage through a bit of your trunk. “Ah—here we are,” you say brightly, pulling out the box of Fever Fudge you’d hidden so as not to be stolen, “good as new, Georgie. The fevers, now, should stop at the appropriate number we’ve discussed—they shouldn’t continue to spike as the evenings go on. Any problems, let me know!”

“You’re brilliant, truly,” he says, peering down at the box of his own inventions. “How did you get so bloody good at this?”

You smile sweetly at him and flip your hair, “Just got lucky, I suppose.”

He laughs and is about to head back downstairs, careful not to mess up anyone’s things, when he spots a little brown bear on your bed near your pillows. His lips curl into a grin, “Erm.. Y/N,” he begins, pointing to the stuffed bear, “what is that?”

Suddenly you jump onto your bed and try to secretly slip this tiny little animal behind all of your pillows. The rosy pink color of your cheeks is evident in the sunlight flooding the windows, “Erm—what’s what, George?”

He places the box of fever fudge down on the table next to your bed, and walks slowly over to you. With a mischievous grin on his face, he continues, “Don’t make me jump on you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“But I would.”

And as soon as he says it, he does it; he flops down dramatically, ruining your very tidy sheets. He begins to poke you in the ribs, a tickling of some sort, to try and get you to move. It seems to work, because he grabs the bear from behind your back and you both fall backwards, next to one another, laughing quite animatedly.

He waits with bated breath for you to explain yourself. “Shove off, Georgie,” you say, stealing the bear back from him, twirling it in your fingers and peering at it. You offer to continue, “My mum gave him to me when I was a baby. When I was born. A little ‘coming home’ gift, if you will.”

“You mean to tell me,” George begins, “that you’ve had this for seventeen years?”

You roll your eyes and stifle a bit of laughter. You roll off of the bed, stand up, and place the bear delicately into your trunk. You pull George into an upright position and say, “This conversation’s over. C’mon—let’s bring Fred the fixed Fever Fudge,”

“This conversation is certainly not over,” he teases.

“It’s a source of comfort, you git!” you reply, slapping him playfully across his chest.

“Comfort,” he echoes through a chuckle, “right. And he’s here now because.. you need comforting after a long Potions lesson with Snape?”

You slap him again as you both begin to laugh. “Yes,” you tell him straightforwardly, “and there’s nothing wrong with that. Sometimes, after a long day, I just need something to hug, to hold whilst I sleep, alright? Quit the teasing,”

Suddenly, the overwhelming urge to pull you into an embrace washes over George; he wants, more than anything, to just curl up with you on your bed right now, and to hug you for as long as you need. He’s about to do so, when you pull him by his hand and say, “Oh come on—can’t leave your brother waiting, can we?”

George can’t help himself; he just needs to tease you. Just a little bit more. He begins to tickle your waist when he calls in a sing-song voice down the stairs, “Oh, Freddie!”

You turn and grab his arms; even though he’s feeling rather mischievous, the butterflies are swirling around his stomach, as well. A sinister smirk tugs at the edges of your lips and he feels as though his entire body goes rigid when you wink at him, “Don’t you dare.”

— -

When Ginny enters the portrait hole, she’s surprised to see George slumped in an armchair and not with Fred, off creating some sort of chaotic mischief right underneath Umbridge’s nose.

“No pranks today?” she asks, sinking beside him on the couch.

“Reckon you didn’t see Angelina hanging all over Fred in the Great Hall, then?”

“Guess I must’ve missed it,” she rolls her eyes, and they both smile. “Speaking of—how are things going with Y/N?”

George is slightly taken back; he peers at Ginny with a confused expression and she just shakes her head at him. He knows that everyone else sees right through him, but he never expected his younger sister to bring it up. Guess he’s the type of bloke who wears his heart on his sleeve. “Erm, I mean—things are fine.”

“Things are most certainly not fine. Why haven’t you told her?”

George has been preparing for this—whether it was to come from a sibling or a friend—he knew, down the line, someone would question him as to why you two aren’t together. He slumps back into the couch and twirls his wand in both his hands. “Well—‘cause, we’re leaving soon, aren’t we? Fred and me. Just doesn’t make sense at this point.” He sinks a little lower, and his face turns sullen. “I’ve missed my chance. It’s too late, Gin.”

Just then, you pop inside with Dean and Seamus, giggling animatedly about some silly joke one of them made, and you raise your hand to George and Ginny before quickly heading upstairs to the girls dormitory to change out of your uniforms. There’s a tug at George’s heart—if only he could sneak up there without anyone seeing.

“Hey,” Ginny snaps her fingers at him, interrupting his thoughts and bringing him out of his daydream-like state, “It’s never too late.”

“You think?”

Ginny raises her eyebrows when she notices you coming back down the stairs and making a b-line right toward them. Quietly, she tells him, “I reckon she’ll think the same.”

When you seat yourself down next to them and Ginny quickly changes the conversation, George can’t help but grin goofily at the bunny slippers you have on. You sit yourself comfortably on the couch next to him, cross your legs, and blow lightly on your steaming cup of tea while Ginny relays the story of her brilliant Bat Bogey hex in the last DA meeting to you. Each and every time you smile broadly, George can feel himself shifting closer and closer to you.

— -

“The devil incarnate, she is,” Ron tells his siblings darkly. He peers down at the top of his hand, running his fingers over his silky smooth skin, knowing exactly what is about to happen as the DA prepares for a detention with Umbridge.

Harry shakes his head and replies, “Just try not to think on it all too much. It’ll be over before we know it.” He’s still looking on edge, sleep deprived. The whispers of other members can be heard slightly as Umbridge makes her way down the corridors.

“How is this even legal?”

“Where’s Professor Dumbledore? She can’t possibly get away with this.”

The Great Hall is darker than normal; the hour and a half spent there is some of the most draining George has felt in his entire life. It’s as if the writing alone is setting his soul on fire. Or, perhaps, is it the weak smile and look of pure anguish you give him from a few rows over? He can’t help but feel extremely protective, and he’s shooting daggers at Umbridge each and every chance he gets.

When you’re all finally released, Umbridge giggles in a mocking, satisfied tone. She makes her way back to her office as all of the members of the DA walk begrudgingly back to their common rooms, completely ignoring the apologies of Marietta Edgecombe, who, by the looks of it, is now regretting her decision of giving up the DA to Umbridge.

The Gryffindor common is filled with students looking positively sullen, almost each and every one of them running their fingers over their red, raw, and bloodied hands. George hops through the portrait hole and notices you in the corner, talking animatedly with Ginny and Fred.

“I swear,” Fred’s saying as George sits himself down next to you, “she’s barking mad.”

“You’d think she’d end up in Azkaban after pulling a stunt like this,” you agree, tracing the outline of the cuts on your hand with your finger, “but I reckon she can get away with anything.”

“I reckon you’re right,” George says, leaning his arms on his knees. He takes a deep breath and opts to continue, “how could she possibly get away with something like this?”

Ginny offers, “It’s the bloody Ministry.”

There’s a collective groan from all of you. Ginny shakes her head and continues, “Mum and Dad are going to go wild, you know; this isn’t over. By the way, speaking of Mum and Dad—you two planning on telling them that you’re leaving in a few weeks time?”

George suddenly feels his heart stop. Next to him, you look frantically back and forth between him and Fred, a confused expression plastered across your face. Fred is shaking his head, Ginny’s cheeks are flooding with color, and George is dreading the next conversation.

“You’re—you’re leaving?” you ask, stunned. “When?”

“Gin, we only told you because you overheard us the other night,” Fred says through gritted teeth. Then, he softens and says to George, “but.. I reckon it’s maybe time we tell a few people, eh Georgie?”

“Oh no,” Ginny says sheepishly, looking down at the floor. But you just grin weakly at her as she pulls Fred to his feet and they make their way over to the other end of the common room, most likely to tell Ron of their plans. You hope Ginny isn’t feeling too guilty.

George swallows thickly and then begins, “I should’ve told you sooner. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head at his apology, “You don’t need to apologize to me.” You place your hand over his and wait with bated breath for him to tell you what’s going on. You smile broadly at him when he begins to explain.

“We’re, erm, heading out a bit early, you see,” George begins, his eyes shifting from yours to the floor, “we’ve got these grand plans for a business to open up—in Diagon Alley, actually.. sell our inventions. Reckon it could become quite successful if we market correctly—”

His heart is thundering against his rib cage, surely trying its best to escape his chest, and he’s nervous that you’re not going to approve, you’re going to be angry, you won’t ever talk to him again. But to his surprise, you throw your arms around him excitedly and pull him into a bone crushing hug. He’s relaxing in your arms as he listens to your squeals of delight, breathing in the scent of your hair, focusing on the way your body feels beneath his fingertips. And when you pull away from him and shake his shoulders slightly, with both a bright smile on your face and tears in your eyes, you tell him, “I’m so proud of you!”

You’re talking quickly, shaking your head admiringly, throwing your hands into the air and running them through your hair, chuckling lightly, blinking quickly to push back any tears rising to the surface, but he can’t even hear what you’re saying. All George can hear is the pounding in his ears from the steady beat of his own heart, and not before long, he’s laughing at your exasperated state and is leaning in to kiss you, pressing his lips gently to yours and melting into something that’s been building up for years and years. The tension and surprise is subsiding, and you’re playing absentmindedly with the soft hairs at the nape of his neck and you’re both ignoring the annoying whistles from his siblings near the fireplace, and you’re quite certain that George is making a rather inappropriate hand gesture at them across the room for interrupting your moment.

When you two finally part, George grins broadly at you, his hands still shaking slightly due to the adrenaline rush and he asks you, not bothering to answer Fred’s whistles at all, “You’re not mad?”

“Mad?!” you cry out, still obviously rather electrified from both the news and the kiss, “No! I’m not mad.. how could I be? I’m so excited for you both. I hope you’ll know I’ll be coming round to visit all the time.”

“Well, you better,” he replies cheekily, pulling at the collar of your shirt. Then, “I’m really going to miss you these last few weeks.”

“I’ll miss you, too,” you reply breathlessly, and he now feels a tug at his heartstrings. He’s feeling nervous. Off balance. Do you still want to be with him after he leaves? Can you two survive on letters alone until after you graduate? “Do you, erm—I mean, I know I’m leaving, but—”

You cup his face in your hands, running your thumbs over the light stubble on his cheeks. A feeling of warmth overtakes him when you grin, peering into his yearning eyes, “We’ll make it work.”

He pulls you into his arms, and the calls from Fred and the others don’t seem to subside in the slightest. “We’re being summoned,” you tell George, leaning back against his chest. You pull out some of their inventions from your own pocket, things they’d given you early on; a pygmy puff, a screaming yo-yo, extendable ears, and more. You begin fiddling with them in your fingers and George grins against your shoulder.

“D’you want to go?”

You intertwine one of your hands in his. “Just hold me for a while first, would you?”

He giggles softly and wraps his arms tighter around you. Teasing begins to bubble up inside him and he can’t help it, he just has to say it. “Don’t you want to go and get your bear first?”

He expects the playful slap across his chest, he grins goofily when you begin to laugh, but what he doesn’t expect is what you say next. He’s practically putty in your hands when he pulls you closer and breaths in your scent when you reply,

“Reckon I don’t need it—I’ve got something else to hold, now.”

reblogs + feedback are always appreciated! thanks for reading darlings, ily so <3