#and the butterfly bag is something my aunt sent me when i was little - with discord and princess celestia funko pop keychains from somewhere

[smile-files]

some object characters based on some items near my desk! glue gun, echo microphone, and butterfly bag!! :D

[wildbornsiren]

Magnetism (part 2) | Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x F!Reader

Magnetism part 2 of 4

What: They say if you love something, set it free. You walked away years ago and Bob let you go. But now you're back, fate dealing him a hand he never thought he'd get.

Part 2 of 4. 3,883/8,095 words. AFAB/Female civilian reader.

Warnings: Top Gun Maverick Spoilers, kind of angsty. Hangman being a brat. Kissing. Reader’s home is broken into while she is not home.

Thanks: @writercole for the summary, @hederasgarden @hoe-on-the-range​ for encouragement and eyes. Thank you to @therebeccaw​ for the beautiful header. Likes are so appreciated, comments and shares are amazing. Thank you for reading. I appreciate it so much, and it means the most.

                                               ||Part 1 ||

There was just something so breath taking about the California sunset. The explosion of oranges, pinks and yellows fading into blue and navy. You had taken the dogs out after dinner, hoping that a long walk would tire them out and you’d be able to put in some time editing backlog projects. The sand is warm under your feet, your sandals tucked into your bag. While the dogs stop to investigate a ruined sandcastle, you pull your phone from your pocket, snapping a photo of the sun barely kissing the horizon.

Your fingers hesitate over the text thread before attaching it. Is it as pretty in the air as it is on land? You send it to Robert, biting your lower lip, almost instantly regretting sending it. Your text messages back and forth had been light, playful, but every time you hit send, your stomach exploded in a cloud of butterflies. Your phone had just slid into your pocket when it pinged.

The first photo he had sent was of him and Phoenix in their jet, expressions wide and happy. The second a skyscape with high enough elevation that you can see the curve of the horizon Bright blue clear sky, the sun rising. “This is from this morning.”

“If I could overcome my crippling fear of heights, I’d be unstoppable”. You find yourself smiling as you type, a bubble on his end coming up as soon as you hit send.

“Give me a couple photography lessons and I’d be more than happy to show you something beautiful.”

You walk as you text, the dogs behaving on leash for once. There are small clusters of people watching the sunset, others still playing in the sand soaking in the last bit of sunshine they can. The surf crashes gently, the breeze ruffling your clothes. It’s peaceful and quiet, and the butterflies in your belly quieted. You whistle softly, getting the dog’s attention before snapping a photo of them and sending it to your aunt. You can hear a game of some sort to your right, closer to the water, and when you glance that way, you can see a group of men and two footballs. The dogs are instantly interested in the playful yelling and the way they’re tumbling all over each other. You’re trying to get their attention back on you when you hear someone shout.

“Heads up!”

A football sails through the air, headed directly toward you. Somehow you manage to wrangle the dogs and yourself out of the way, the football landing in the sand right next to you. A man in shorts and a t-shirt jogs your way, coming up short. “Sorry about that.” The build, the voice, and when you blink in defense of the harsh backlighting of the setting sun you realize who is speaking.

“Robert?”

He rubs the back of his neck, “Hey.” He’s got the ball in his hand, and he looks over his shoulder at the bickering men behind him.

“What are you guys playing with two balls?”

There’s a wickedness to his grin, tossing the football from hand to hand. “Dogfight football, it’s something our instructor came up with to build teamwork.”

“Teamwork?”

“You know what happens when a bunch of personalities get together.” He shrugs, “we’ve started getting together when things get a little tense.”

“Everything okay?” You step closer, shading your eyes and looking up at him.

“Work things,” he says. “I like the photo you sent me.” He glances over his shoulder when someone calls for him. He waves them off, turning back to you with a sheepish grin. “Still want to come out with me tomorrow night?”

“Yeah,” you grin at him, stepping closer. “Looking forward to it.”

He moves to hug you, and pauses, “I’m sweaty so…”

You hug him, anyway, feeling his strong arms wrap around you. He’s warm and breathing a little heavy, you can nearly feel his muscles vibrating under your touch. He tips your chin up, his thumb brushing your lower lip. Your heart thumps hard behind your ribs and his gaze is heavy and intense. His lips brush your temple before he’s pulling away.

Only to lose his balance, his full weight slamming into you. To keep both of you upright you overbalance, the sand sliding under your feet as you hit the ground. The dogs bark happily, playing with each other, tangling the leashes around the two of you further. Robert shifts above you, bringing his weight to his forearms, bracing above you. His chest heaves against yours and all you can hear is the wild thumping of your heart. Your hips are pinned to his, and it makes heat spiral deliciously through you.

“I’m so sorry.” You say. Your face is against his neck and when your lips brush over his pulse point, he shivers. You can feel it work through him, on top of you.

“Your dogs are menaces,” He laughs softly, “I can’t be mad at them, this isn’t a bad position to be in.” He's moving, trying to get untangled and it’s not helping how hot you are, or the ache that’s blooming in your lower stomach.

Somehow you manage to get untangled, and he’s pulling you to your feet. “You alright?” He’s helping you brush sand from your clothes, when two more men walk up. One you recognize as Rooster, the other is tall, tan and built like a Greek statue.

“Bobby, you gotta buy the girl a drink before you do that.” He picks up the discarded football. Rooster’s kneeling in the sand hands all over the dogs who wiggle and climb over each other to get to him.

“He’s already bought me dinner, so it’s alright.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. Robert looks toward the sky; Rooster hides a grin in the neck of one of your dogs. “You must be Hangman?” Another easy smile, a flash of white teeth and he’s offering you, his hand. “Bob here hasn’t said anything about you.”

“Thank you for the restaurant recommendation,” You change course, shaking his hand. “They really do have the best cannoli.” You shamelessly had eaten them for breakfast this morning, much to the horror of your aunt, who had found you hunched over the kitchen sink shoveling them into your mouth

As handsome as he is, he isn’t subtle and the look that passed between him and Rooster spoke volumes. “I’m glad you liked them.” HIs voice is even, smooth, all too entirely practiced. “Rooster tells me you and our Bobby go way back.”

You find yourself staring at Robert’s back as he’s stepped between you and Hangman. “She’s walking her dogs, not facing down an interrogation.”

“You’re an enigma Bob, you can’t blame us for wanting to know more about you.”

“Drop it.”

You close your eyes tight, grounding yourself, recognizing that tone. “It’s fine.” You place your hand on his shoulder, and he glances at you. “I’m not worth it.” Pulling gently on the dogs’ leads you start back the way you came, deliberately ignoring the way Robert’s jaw clenched.

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

The quiet of night had begun to creep in around the houses and cars that lined the street by the time you made it home. You reach for the latch on the gate, frowning when it gives under your fingertips. Tightening your grip on the leads, you head toward the dark house. The door isn't completely latched, your stomach sinking. You licked your lips, throat dry, feeling your heart race.

“Auntie?” You nudge the door open with your toe. “Auntie, are you home?” Leaning down, your hand trembles, unclipping the lead of one of the dogs. “Go get her,” you whisper, letting one of the dogs into the house. You watch as Perry slinks into the house, low to the ground, ears flat on her head. You don’t hear anything, so you push the door open a bit more.

You reach for your phone, turning it on. You ignore the text messages and pull up a call with the emergency number ready to dial. When you cross the threshold, you turn on the overhead light to find the room in shambles. Furniture is overturned, the coffee table broken, potted plants tossed to the ground, shattered, dirty scattered everywhere. You whistle for the Perry, calling her back to you, reattaching her lead to her collar.

Stepping back onto the porch, you call the police. Then your aunt, whose phone goes to voice mail. You call her a few more times, then start down the list of her friends trying to track her down. You try again and again, each message getting a bit more frantic until you’re just calling and hanging up before it goes to her inbox.

Your phone rings, and you pick it up without looking at the caller id. “Where are you?!”

“What’s wrong?” Robert’s voice, not your aunt’s, answers you.

“I can’t talk Robbie,” You’re hanging up on him before he can finish what he says next.

The street is awash in red and blue lights as patrol cars roll up to the house. One cop takes your statement as two more go through the house. You hear another car pull up, and in your periphery a blue bronco parks behind one of the cop cars. You’re vaguely aware of four people scrambling out of it and coming toward the house.

Once you’ve given your statement and the officer is heading toward the house, you feel your legs buckle, and you sit down rather quickly and hard on the concrete. Breathing is difficult, your chest tight, the heel of your hands scrubbing against your eyes hard enough that you see starbursts behind your lids.

A low, quiet voice says your name, and you look up from your hands. Robert is crouching next to you, his hand resting lightly on your knee.

“Look at me, Sweet.” His fingers rest under your chin, eyes locked on yours. “Just me,” that tone slides up the back of your neck, sending tingles running through you. “Exhale,”

You do, and the knot in your chest loosens slightly.

“Again.”

You nod and inhale slowly, exhaling once more. “I can’t get a hold of her.”

“One step at a time,” he murmurs. “The cops are here, and they have access to things that you don’t.” He rises to his full height, pulling you up, his arm landing around your waist. You realize your hands are empty and you look over to find Rooster and Phoenix playing with the dogs as Hangman’s talking to a cop.

“How, why?”

“You actually called me a couple times.” He says. “I got worried, so I came to see if you were okay.”

“You brought them?”

A small shrug, his fingers brushing along the curve of your hip slowly. “Rooster brought us to the beach, so I needed him to bring me, and they jumped at the chance to come be big damn heroes.”

You choke out a laugh despite yourself. “You’re quoting Firefly at me?”

He pulls you closer, “You should ask Rooster what the chain of command is.” His weight shifts, placing himself between you and the approaching officer.

“The house is empty. We can have an officer wait outside and observe in case anyone comes back, or we can escort you somewhere if you’d feel safer.”

“What about her aunt?” Robert asked.

“We’re looking into the information that she gave us.”

Robbie glances at you, “Do you want to go?”

You shake your head, “I don’t have anywhere else to go, and I’d like to be here if—when she comes home.”

“We’ll have someone parked across the street then.” The officer tucks a notepad into his pocket. “I will be in contact with any further information about your aunt.” He’s headed back up the walkway giving orders to the other officers.

“Do you want the rest of them to stay?” Robert asks you.

“You’re staying?”

He nods, “yeah, someone should stay up with you for when your aunt comes home.” His hand brushes against your arm lightly, before he’s stepping away. You watch as he walks over to Rooster, the two of them having a quiet conversation. The others leave a little while after the police do.

You’re left with Robert, and your thoughts. You hug yourself, arms tight around your midsection, chest tight, mind racing. Your legs feel weak, finding it hard to pull a full breath. You startle when there’s warmth at your back, Robert’s arms circling you, pulling you tight against his chest. His chin rests on the top of your head, his breathing slow and even.

“Do you want to go inside?” His voice is low, vibrating in his chest. When you shake your head, he squeezes you tighter. “Come on then.” He’s letting go, one of his hands taking yours. You’re led to the porch swing. He sits, pulling you between his legs, your body resting on his. Your head resting against his chest, his heartbeat strong and solid under your cheek. He keeps ahold of your hand, his other hand sliding slowly up and down your back.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” He asks after a while. The dogs are nearby, curled up in a furry pile.

“I told you Jarrod’s in the wind.” You say quietly. “He’s been giving auntie a hard time, and she’s noticed things missing around the house. Small at first, and then money started disappearing from her wallet—her bank account. Mom thought that having someone else in the house would deter him.”

“Remind me, he’s not actually related to you guys, is he?”

“No, he’s the kid of one of auntie’s friends, and when his mom kicked him out, auntie took him in.”

“Mmhm.” He nuzzles your shoulder. “You know we’ll have to go inside at some point.”

“I know.”

His lips brush your temple. “Why did you say you’re not worth it when Seresin was running his mouth?”

“I don’t know if we should have this—”

He says your name, and it’s so soft his voice cracking. “We can have it now. There’s nothing here but the dark and the waves.”

“I hurt you, Robbie.”

“We hurt each other.” He says breaking the quiet. “I didn’t go after you when you left.” He takes a deep enough breath that you rise and fall in time with it. “It’s something I regret every damn day.”

Your eyes burn, feeling the tightness in your throat returning. “And then I just walked right into your hospital room.”

“I cannot tell you how many times I’ve wanted you to walk through a door and back to me.”

“We can’t start over.” You murmur. “But I haven’t been able to shake the feeling of your kiss.”

“Again, Perry is a menace.” His hand still against your back. “We can’t start over, but we can learn from what we had then, and what we want now.”

“What do you want Robbie?” “The only thing I’ve ever wanted.”

“My momma’s apple pie?”

“I don’t know who’s more of a menace. Your dog or you in the kitchen.”

“You’re deflecting.” You lift your head to look at him. He’s watching you, eyes half lidded, a slight smile on his face. “I asked you what do you want?”

“You,” he says simply, eyes closing. His jaw clenches, his head tipping back to rest against the railing of the swing. “In whatever capacity I can spend time with you.” He swallows hard, throat bobbing.

“Why didn’t you say something?”

“You wouldn’t have taken the job. I want to be with you Sweet, but I’m not going to hold you back.”

You sit up, moving to sit properly on the swing. “I didn’t get a choice?”

“You had the opportunity of a lifetime. I wasn’t going to stand in your way.”

“No, you can’t do that Robert. You don’t get to make that kind of a choice for someone.” You rub at your eyes, tears threatening to spill over. “We can figure something out.”

“Can?”

“That wasn’t a friend kiss last night.” You mutter, “that was something that I’ve missed every day for four fucking years.” You look up at the sky, feeling your eyes burn even more. “I wanted it from when you showed up on my doorstep in the morning.” You choke out a laugh, “hell I wanted it when I saw you in the hospital. It didn’t matter that Rooster and Phoenix were in the room. I needed to make sure you were real.”

His hand rests on your knee, squeezing it softly. “I’m still here.”

“Why didn’t you change the contact? If you were so willing to let me leave.”

He's quiet, the sound of his breathing buzzing in the back of your mind. “If I removed you, it would have meant that there wasn’t anything left of me that belonged to you.” The swing groans when he shifts his weight. “I let you walk away with my heart. I couldn’t let go of your name on a form.” The quiet drawl is back, words slurring together slightly.

“You loved me that much?” Your heart is threatening to burst through your ribcage.

“Love.” He says.

Time slows, your heartbeat thundering in your ears. There’s the prickle of stubble under your fingertips when they land on his jaw, siding into his hair, pulling him closer to you. His mouth is warm and pliant under yours, the low sound that comes from him makes you shift closer. Robbie’s hands land on your hips, and you’re straddling his thighs; one hand tight in his hair the other flat on his chest. You’re losing yourself in the kiss, shivering when the warmth from his hand brushes under the hem of your shirt. You nod and his hands slide up your spine, his palms spreading heat across your skin.

“Robbie,” the urge to drop fully into his lap is slowly overwhelming you. His hands curve around your sides, those long fingers resting on the skin just under your breasts. “I want…” You arch under his hands, and his lips twitch upward.

“Yeah?” His voice is so soft. When you nod, he lifts your shirt up and off, setting it on the swing next to you. The cool air and the heat of his gaze makes you shiver, goosebumps raising on your skin as his fingers brush along your ribcage. He moves under you, adjusting you in his lap. Kisses land on your neck, and your fingers thread through his hair, when he sucks small patches of your skin. “Your heart is beating so fast.” His lips brush against your collar bone, tongue darting out to lick the swell of your breast. He touches you as if you’re delicate and precious, your name whispered tenderly, his cheek against your chest, arms sliding around your waist to hold you closer to him.

He's so solid, warm and present under you. Hesitantly, you shift closer, rolling your hips against his, biting your lip when Robert groans. His hands flex as he holds you, trembling slightly when they release. His breath pants against your shoulder, face returning to your neck, mouth moving over heated skin. Robbie’s so hard, his hips rocking up to meet yours as you move against him. It sends shocks through you, warmth pooling low in your belly. Every part of you is on fire and he’s only stoking the flames. You fit together so well, and it’s getting to the point where you can’t tell where you end, and he begins.

“You feel so good.” You don’t recognize your voice, and he rumbles his agreement against the curve of your neck. His hand drops between you, and you feel the press of his palm between your legs. It makes your brain go blissfully blank, just the pressure of his touch over your shorts.

“So warm,” He purrs against your ear, “let’s go in the house. Need to find out how wet you are for me.”

There was the duality of Robert that you craved. He was gentle, sweet, reserved—until his eyes were blown with desire, lips swollen from kisses, breath coming in ragged pants. He would hold you as if you were made of spun sugar, whispering the filthiest promises against your skin. He could take you apart piece by piece and have you forgetting everything but his name, and how he made you feel, only to put you back together with lazy soft kisses and quiet conversation in the dark.

You reach for your shirt, putting it back on, and regretfully untangling yourself from him. “Come on then Robbie,” he takes your hand and lets you lead him to the couch. Rounding the corner, you pull up short, Robert colliding with your back. Your aunt is making her way up the stairs to the porch and looks up when she sees the two of you.

“Where have you been?” The question is out of your mouth, more accusatory than you expected.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt,” she says a wide grin splitting her face. “I was playing bridge with the girls, and time got away from me.”

“I called you. A lot.”

“I left my phone here.” She says, “Is there something wrong?”

“I came home from walking the dogs and someone had gotten into the house.” The reality of the evening hit you once more, and you let go of Robbie’s hand. “I couldn’t get ahold of you, and I thought something happened.”

Your aunt frowns, “I’ll call Jarrod in the morning, he must have misplaced his housekey.” Her keys jingle when she pulls them from her purse. “Are you staying tonight Robbie-boy?”

“I was going to help with the cleanup and camp out on the couch.” Robert says.

You follow your aunt inside. The three of you make short work of the mess, and soon she’s heading upstairs. Robert is kicking his shoes off and crossing over to you. Gentle fingers tip your chin up, and he kisses you sweetly. “Go get some sleep. I’ll be down here keeping watch.”

“You could come upstairs?”

He shakes his head. “You’re not thinking clearly,” another soft kiss to your cheek, then one to your forehead. He toes off his shoes and turns to sit on the couch. He grins at you, before he’s putting his glasses on the coffee table, tucking a pillow against the arm of the couch, before he’s laying back. “Go try to sleep, I’ll see you in the morning.”

You glare at him, a little frustrated, but a smile playing on your mouth. “I care so much about you.” You turn off the light when he folds his hands over his chest, eyes closed. “You’ll be okay down here?”

“I’ll be just fine.” His voice is heavy with sleep, and you hear him turn over on the couch. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You stay on the bottom step for a little while, listening to his breathing, so even and slow. Your fingers itch to smooth the hair from his forehead, to sit on the floor next to the couch and just watch him completely at ease. Stuffing the urges down, you climb the stairs and close the bedroom door behind you.

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Tagging in:  @robertcallsignbobfloyd​      @evansrogerskitten   @roses-and-grasses   @letsfvckingdance @green-socks​ @a-reader-and-a-writer​     @mayhem24-7forever @callsign-phoenix @yespolkadotkitty @princessmisery666​ @lt-natrace​  @shadeds-library​​  @straightforwardly​​  @luckyladycreator2  @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy   @oscarissacsslut  @therebeccaw  @mastercontrol123  @halefirewarrior @cowboybarbie​​  @cfvgbhndun  @tipsykeen   @blessupblessup  @sopheeg @unluckymonaghan   @justanothermagicalsara

[kenzies-love-stories]

Who’s Gonna Tell Sam pt.2 (Paul Lahote x Reader)

A/n: Finally the much a waited part 2 is here! we dive a bit deeper into the readers past issues at home, Jared has a big mouth and Emily is playing match maker. I cut part 2 off where I did because it was getting long. Fear not though part 3 is going to pick up where this one left off. This is poorly edited and I apologize for that I just couldn’t wait to get this out!~ 🖤Kenzie🖤

Type: Fluff just fluff, reader has issues at home that made her move but it is nothing descriptive.

tag list: @venusdelaroix i know you asked about part 2 let me know if you want to be added or taken off the tag list.

1

posted: September 7 2021

word count: 3005

Y/n Young is a 17-year-old girl has been sent to live with her Aunt Emily due to some family issues and how her mother was handling them.  Y/n tries not to resent her mother for choosing to send her away to La Push Washington instead of dealing with their problems as mother and daughter. Y/n felt as if her mother was giving up on her, it made her feel like she wasn’t worth it. She finds that the cold sandy beach that is in La Push dulls in comparison to the warm sandy beaches back home in California.

y/n Pov

It has been about six months since Paul had imprinted on me, and we are pretty much attached at the hip. The only time we are not around one another is when I am at school and late at night when Paul is on patrol. I am honestly very surprised that Sam still doesn’t know what Paul and I are to one another.  

Speaking of Sam, he is currently with the rest of the pack, aside from Jared who is with Kim across from me at the kitchen table. Emily is in the kitchen making her oh so famous muffins and I am crocheting another square for my blanket.  

I slightly pause when I hear Kim ask, “has anyone else noticed how calm Paul has been lately? It is honestly kind of strange, but not unwelcome.”  

I go back to my work as I hear Emily answer while filling up muffin pans, “Yeah! I also noticed that.”

I freeze dead in my tracks when I hear, “It’s because of the imprint, the more he is around y/n the-”

I cut him off by yelling “JARED, SHUT UP!” but it was already too late, the damage was done.

“Y/n I am so sorry-” Jared starts

I cut him off, “It’s fine.” I put my hook down and make eye contact with Emily

“y/n/n is that true?” she softly asks coming out of the kitchen to sit next to me.

“Yes, it is, but Paul and I are not together in that way, I told him that I could really use a best friend right now. I didn’t completely shut down that idea either though, I just want to get to know him for him before that happens.”  

“Does Sam know, why am I just hearing about this now?”  she asks in confusion, knowing Sam he would have made a bit of a scene.

“No, Paul and I want to be the ones to tell him. We just don’t quite know how to yet.” I pause, “we made the guys promise not to say or think about it, I am actually surprised that Jared managed to last as long as he did.” I laugh playfully glaring at him.

“Hey! what are you trying to say kid!?!” he questions pointing at me.

“That you have a big mouth.” I joke holding back a laugh, when I hear Kim laugh.

“Oh, you little shit! I’ll give you a five second head start.” he says before standing and kissing Kim on the cheek.

I squeal and take off out the back door where I see a shirtless Paul, Embry and Quill. I sprint towards Paul and dunk behind him grabbing on to the back of his shoulders hiding.  He looks over his shoulder at me in concern, “Y/n/n what’s wrong are you okay?”

“Jared may or may not be after me!” I exclaim as Jared comes running out of the house scanning the back yard.

“Where are you, you little shit.” he shouts and looks towards Paul. “Of course, um Yeah. NOPE!” he exclaims then goes back inside to Kim.

I come out from behind Paul to see him smirk down at me, “what was that about.” He asks pointing to the door.  

“Jared um he slipped up and I told him he had a big mouth.”  I state nervously as I hear Embry and Quill laugh.

Paul worriedly asks, “who was around when this happened?”  

I pull Paul into a hug to calm us both down, “Only Emily and Kim, luckily.” I say into his chest savoring the warmth of his body.

He pulls me closer and rests his chin the top of my head, “So, I am assuming Emily wants to have a few words with me?”

“Yeah, she does.” I say while pulling away from his warm body. He sighs nervously and nods before walking inside. I decide to stay outside with Embry and Quill

“So, where’s Sam?” I ask  

“Emily’s and his anniversary are coming up soon, so he is out looking for gifts.” Quill states  

Paul POV

I walk into Sam and Emily’s with my palms slightly clammy. Emily is far scarier than Sam is when she is angry. “Hey Emily I heard that you wanted to talk to me?” I ask once I reach her kitchen table.

“Yes, I do, Kim can you and Jared please step outside for a few minutes?” She asks after putting something into the oven.  

I see Kim start to drag Jared towards the slider, “of course.” She says before closing the slider behind her.

We both sit down at the table, “Paul I heard that you imprinted on Y/n.”

“Yes, I did, Emily, I promise you I didn’t mean too.” I start to defend myself when she cuts me off.

“Paul it is okay, I know you can’t control that stuff. Just know that y/n has been through a lot, I don’t know what she has told you about her mom and that is not my place to tell you those things but just know that she has a hard time letting people in. She has a bit of abandonment issues and if you of all people abandon her too, it would just crush her. I can see that you mean the world to her and I haven’t seen that look in her eye since her dad. I just don’t want to see her hurt.” Emily states while making eye contact with me.

“She has not told me much about what she has gone through but I can assure you with confidence that I have no intention of ever hurting her or leaving her side. Emily just seeing her sad during a movie sends a pang of pain to shoot through my chest. I know that she only sees me as a best friend and by all means that is enough for me but the more, I get to know her beautiful soul the more I start to fall in love with her. Like the only thing I want to do is keep that smile on her face.” I honestly vent to Emily.

“I am really thankful to hear that, I know you will protect her with your life and because I feel that I don’t have anything to worry about I promise I won’t tell Sam.” She states, “That was all, I just wanted to touch base with you.”  

“Thank you, Emily,” I say before going outside to spend some one-on-one time with y/n before Sam gets back.

y/n pov about a week later  

Emily had of course been true to her word and has not uttered a word to Sam about Paul’s and I connection. Though she has been slyly playing matchmaker and finding ways for Paul and I to be together. Like this morning for example, “y/n come get your lunch!”  

I run down the stairs taking them two at a time until I make my way to the kitchen. I grab the brown paper bag from Emily and I noticed she is dressed up, “Thank you Auntie, um why are you so dressed up? Aren’t you just dropping me off at school.”  

“For Sam and I anniversary this year I bought us tickets to a music festival a state over, we will be gone for about a week. Paul is coming to get you for school today,” She pulls me into a hug and in a hushed whisper says, “You will have the house to yourself just no funny business.”

“Really!” I exclaim “Have fun Auntie.” I say as Sam makes his way downstairs with two backpacks.

“Y/n are you sure you are going to be okay here alone?” he asks stopping in front of me.

“I’ll be fine Sam I promise. You two go have fun you deserve it.” I muse before pulling him into a tight hug.

I pull away and hug Emily one more time, “Thank you.” I say very quietly into her ear.

“If you need anything, call Jared or Quill.” Sam states with a hint of a smile on his face.

“Will do Sam, I love you guys!” I exclaim as they are walking out, I hear a “We love you too!” in reply.

I watch them pull out of the driveway and then I look down at my current outfit, with a sigh I quickly run up the stairs to change as I was not planning on seeing Paul until way later.  I rush back down the stairs when I hear a knock on the door. I quickly fix my hair before I pull open the door with a smile. I am greeted with Paul’s warm presence.

I grin big, “Good morning, Paul.”  

“Someone is cheery this morning.” Paul says before opening his strong arms, I happily walk into them allowing his warmth to comfort me for a minute.  

All to soon I pull away and grab my backpack before I close the front door. I then put my house key in the lock, then check the door to make sure it is locked. “Can you let the pack know that the back door is open for them. Sam and Emily are in Idaho at a music festival for the next week or so.”  

“Really when was this, no one told us anything.” He asks while walking us to his truck.

“Yeah, Emily surprised him, they left this morning. Emily said that I have the house to myself for a week or so.” I reply nodding in thanks as he opens my door for me. My heart swoons and butterflies swarm in my belly as he closes the door then jogs over to his side.

“Really?” He asks as he starts the truck.

“Yeah, would you want to have a sleep over, Emily said that it was okay.” I ask while admiring his side profile as he focuses on the road to get me to school safely.

I see Paul’s cheeks start to slightly flush before he answers, “of course, I would love to as long as Emily said it was okay.”  

The ride to school was sadly quicker than I would have liked it to be. I sigh in distain as he pulls up in front of the school. “I am sorry I have to leave you at this hell hole y/n/n.” Paul states

“it’s fine Paul there is only three more months until graduation.” I state before deciding to be a bit bold, I then lean over to press a quick peck to Paul’s warm cheek. “Bye Paul see you after school.”

I see his cheeks deepen in color and he stutters, “k-knock them dead cutie.”  

I giggle and open the truck door, shutting it behind me and walking towards what Paul describes as hell. I meet Seth by the front door as always, “Good morning, Seth.”  

“Good morning y/n/n, did I just see Paul drop you off?” he asks holding the front door to the school open for me.

“Yeah, Sam and Emily are on their way to Idaho for a music festival.” I state walking with him to our first period of the day.

"Really!?! Why wasn’t I informed about this?” He asks sitting down at his desk next to mine.

“Emily bought the tickets for their anniversary so Sam probably didn’t know until late last night. That would explain why everyone was left in the dark.” I state before getting out my blue notebook for Chemistry.

The rest of my school day drones on uneventfully and much to slow for my liking. However, the final bell finally rings, signaling that it is three o’clock meaning school is out for the weekend. I rush to my locker as fast as my feet would carry me. I place all the things that I do not need for the weekend, slamming my locker shut I check the lock to make sure that no one is breaking into it. Not that I am worried at this school, it is a force of habit for going to school in California for so long.

I pick my backpack up off the floor, swing it over my shoulders before I start to push my way through the bodies all trying to make it to the exit first. I let out a breath of relief as the fresh crisp Washington air hits my face. I quickly glance around the parking lot looking for Paul’s truck which I find in the front row. With excitement I run over to his truck and gently pull open the door, “Hi Paul!”

“Hi there, how was your day love?” he asks.

I start to tell him about my day as I get in his truck, I only briefly stop to gently pull the door closed. After I am all done with my day, I glance over at Paul to already see him looking at me. “So,” he starts before continuing nervously, “I got Quill to cover my shift for patrol tonight, do you want to go to an arcade with me?”  

A big smile breaks out on my face, ��Paul is that even a question, I love arcades! I honestly can’t wait to see your face when I whoop your ass at Ski Ball.”  

“Oh yeah, you think so?” he teases

“I know so hotshot.” I fire back.  

“Awe you think I’m hot.”  

“That is beside the point.”  I squeak embarrassedly

“Yeah you- Wait seriously, you really think I’m hot?” he has surprise laced in his tone

“Yeah, Paul I do, have you seen yourself lately.” I reply with a new found confidence.

“Well, the feeling is mutual, I find you particularly eye catching as well.”

“Thanks Paul,” I giggle as I noticed he entered the freeway, in confusion I ask, “Paul where are we going.”

“We are going to a little hole in the wall arcade in Seattle, I used to go there all the time as a kid.”  he replies like it is the most obvious thing in the world.

“Okie cool.” I reply placing my backpack at my feet on the floorboard. I feel my cheeks heat up as the embarrassment sets in finally, Paul found out that I thought he was hot...You are allowed to find your best friend hot...right?

I am brought out of my trance by Paul turns on his radio, “We can listen to whatever you want to y/n/n.” Paul mutters before signaling over.

“Thank you very much but I actually wanted to talk to you a bit about why I am currently living with Emily.” I reply before shakily turning the dial down again so he can clearly hear me.

“y/n/n, you know you can always tell me anything, I am not going to judge you, ever.”  I noticed that we entered the exit that is going to take us to Seattle.

“Okay, so after my dad died about six years ago my started to go off the deep end. I started to rebel her rules in hopes that I would get the attention that I needed from her. “I pause to breathe before continuing, “however, nothing seemed to work. She became so wrapped up in drugs and her boyfriends that she couldn’t even remember my birthday the last two years. At sixteen I was crying alone in my bedroom. By my seventeenth I was in my friend's basement getting tattoos hoping my mom would notice that I was growing up without her. The only thing I got when I got home was an ass whooping and a plane ticket to Washington. I am kind of glad that I was sent away in some sick since because it led me to you and at this point, I don’t know what I would do without you in my life.” I state looking at the hands in my lap trying to ignore the sting in my eyes. I was so focused that I didn’t even notice that he parked the truck.

He gently lifts my chin up to look into my misty eyes, “Thank you for trusting me enough to share this with me, y/n you are never going to have to feel that way again. You are surrounded by so many people who love and care about you. We notice you, and we are not going to forget another birthday of yours ever; Babes you are not alone anymore I promise.”  

Tears start to slip out of my eyes that I couldn’t notice the tears that are clouding Paul’s eyes.  I unbuckle my seat beat and scoot over to Paul’s warm welcoming body. I hug him tightly, “thank you.” I feel his arms tighten around me as I cry into his neck, soaking the shoulder of his tee shirt.

“Hey little love it is okay, no more tears; you said something about tattoos, may I see them?” Paul carefully removes my face from his neck and gently wipes the last of my tears.

With a small smile I pull away to take of my cardigan, “you can see one of them, it is actually kind of ironic.” I take off the ace bandage that covers my forearm when I am at school. “I cover it when I am at school.” After my forearm is free, I gently push it towards Paul.

“Is that...a wolf,” he asks gently tracing it.

“Yes, it is. I let my friend Eric practice on me and I must say it hurt and I am lucky it came out as good as it did.”  

“Was this his very first piece.”  

“No, the tattoo that is on my hip is the very first one ever.” I state with a nod.

“You let him see you hip.” He asks with a bit of joking jealously

“Paul I was I crop top,” I laugh, “It was not even like that, he has a girlfriend.”  

“Oh, well could I see it.” he asks wiggling his eyebrows slightly.”

“Maybe one day,” I tease back, “now let’s go play some Ski Ball!” I exclaim before getting out of the truck.

[nxrthmizu]

Second Place ; Miya Osamu.

fandom | haikyuu!!

pairing | miya osamu x fem!reader

w.c | 2.2k

genre | fluff

warning(s) | slightly suggestive, implied sexual content

author's note | i've been wanting to write this for a while! so here it is <3 it's not beta read and I didn't use a lot of metaphorical filling so it's not that poetic but eh Idc bc ✨ self indulgence ✨

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Once upon a time, Miya Osamu swore that he would never settle for second place again— He was never going to let another Miya score first place while he stood in the shadows. The twins had split paths after graduation, stepping onto stages where they'd never have to compete against each other for the spotlight again.

... Okay, who was he kidding. He'd be compared to Atsumu for his whole life— It wasn't like a different career would change that. Besides, his aunts were way too bored to not spin up something about him and his brother during family gatherings.

"Atsumu's making more money, isn't he?"

Well duh, he was a professional volleyball player, of course he made more money— Osamu wanted to roll his eyes in front of his aunts to make sure they understood that he heard their hushed whispers— But then again, he was an adult now, and he knew better than to stoop that low.

The comforting grip you had on his wrist also helped.

Things did get slightly better for him, though.

"Atsumu, your brother's already married," Osamu overheard his second aunt say to his twin during his wedding reception, "When are you going to settle down?"

The grey-haired Miya couldn't help but have a grin on his face for the entire night. Granted, the fact there was a silver ring on your finger also helped. You were absolutely radiant that night, and Osamu couldn't have been happier to finally be able to introduce you as his spouse.

Osamu's marriage did tilt more pressure towards his twin's way, because not more than half a year later, Atsumu caved in and found a sweet little thing to share his life with. The setter had had a couple flings here and there in his earlier years— But none of them ever lasted that long, and Atsumu had never introduced them to his brother, which is how Osamu knew that his twin really cared about the girl when the golden-haired man visited Onigiri Miya with her hanging on his arms.

If he didn't have the decency to help his brother maintain a good image, Osamu would've straight-up snorted at how tense his twin was when he served onigiri up onto their table, the shop empty with the exception of one table. It was almost like Atsumu was seeking Osamu's approval— Which was hilarious enough without the fact that the setter was nervous about it.

At the end of the night, it was as if the weight of the world was lifted off Atsumu's shoulders. Kaoru— The name of Osamu's potential sister-in-law— Got along wonderfully with you, who kept the shy-but-bright woman entertained as Osamu dragged his twin into the kitchen to make fun of him.

"Oh, go easy on him," You elbowed him lightly as the two of you closed up the shop for the night, wiping down the tables and tucking the chairs in. "Atsumu genuinely cares about her, he's making an effort!"

Osamu let out the snort he had held in for most of the evening. "I wouldn't be his brother if I didn't make fun of him."

"Boys." You muttered, just loud enough for him to hear. You had been around to catch the tail-end of some of Atsumu's previous relationships, so you could tell that Kaoru was different; In a way, Atsumu looked at her the same way Osamu eyed a nice piece of mackerel in the grocery shop.

"I heard that! C'mere," Osamu grinned, tackling you from the back. A smile burst across his lips when a giggle erupted from your lips, a cloth rag smacking him in the face when you tried to wriggle away from his hold. "You aren't getting away, pumpkin. Save your energy for later."

He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, yelping when he was smacked with the rag again.

"There won't be a later if you keep that up." You warned, laughing when horror instantly swept over his expression. His protests echoed in your ears as you thought about how this marriage was something you'd never regret. Yes, it was rough because his business took off on a rocky road, but you knew there was no gain without pain, so you hung on and saw him through to the fruits of his labour.

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The next family meeting was graced with the presence of Kaoru, who, in turn, had been graced with your advice.

"Dress decently, do not wear black," You had warned her the night before on the phone, grimacing at the memory of your first Miya family dinner. No one had aunts more judgemental than the Miya twins. "I would suggest going with a dress. Oh, and it might help to bring a gift. A bottle of Ginseng Wine might be a good idea."

"We're here," Osamu parked the car outside the family home, subconsciously wincing at the sight of his aunts' vehicles. "... Ah. They’re here."

"I see they turned up early," You grimaced, "Atsumu and Kaoru-chan are going to have a brilliant night."

"Yup." Your husband grinned slightly at that, earning a smack for smiling at his brother's suffering. "Oh, he'll be fine. We'll mention that when Atsumu really needs saving." The wink he sent your way made your stomach butterflies flutter, but the warm touch of his fingers on your hand made them settle. "We'll be fine," Osamu's eyes softened as he met yours, reassuring you. "You've got me, remember? Worst case scenario, we'll just high-tail out of there and say we need to work tomorrow."

"Right," You released a breath of relief, interlocking your fingers with his. "Ready?"

"To see Atsumu suffer?" Osamu quipped. "Hell yeah."

And suffer did Atsumu. Kaoru wasn’t spared (of course she wasn’t—) and was judged from head-to-toe by the Miya's critical aunts. From the way they were eyeing her, you'd think they were the judges of Miss Universe instead of potential aunt-in-laws. Despite that, Kaoru braved the storm and stood strong through the whole night, her resilience shining with her determination to be with the other Miya twin— Osamu nodded his approval at that.

After dinner, the family gathered in the living room, with the elderly seated on the cushioned couches while the twins were squashed together on a bean bag (that you had to convince them to share, because apparently they were adamant about pushing the other off of it). Kaoru and you managed to snag a small corner of a couch, stifling your laughter at the sour faces of your respective significant others.

"So, Kaoru-san," Four heads collectively flinched when the aunt opened her mouth, "What's your job? Yearly salary?"

"Um, I'm... I'm a newspaper editor," Kaoru fidgeted with the strap of her bag while you resisted the urge to snap at her to look as confident as she could if she didn't want the interrogation to go on for the rest of the night. A shy, nervous thing like her would only make the predator's lick their lips at the sight of easy prey.

"Oh! That makes sense," The woman sneered, Osamu's mother not-so-discreetly turning up the volume of the television in hopes that the conversation would be drowned out. "You definitely dress with the salary of an editor."

Offence flashed across Atsumu's face like lightning, but before he could start a fight to defend his girlfriend's honour, Osamu dragged his brother back onto the bean bag and stood up.

"Excuse me, everyone," Osamu put on his practiced customer-service smile flawlessly, capturing everyone's attention instantly. "Y/N and I have an announcement to make." His eyes met yours, and you nodded, a smile waltzing across your lips.

"Mother, father," You begin, addressing your in-laws like you addressed your own parents. Encouragement swirled in your blood as Osamu interlocked your hands and squeezed your fingers. "You're going to be grandparents."

It took a while for the news to kick in.

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Osamu's mother cried out, rushing to envelop you in a hug that you gracefully accepted. "Do you know the gender yet?"

"Of course not, mother." Osamu rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "We're not that far along yet."

"That's amazing! Congratulations!" Kaoru beamed brightly, not having picked up on Osamu's timely intervention.

"Thank you." You replied warmly.

"Well then, are you going to stop working?" The first aunt shot at you, smirking, coy as ever. She knew that you weren't the type to drop your job just because of an incoming child.

"Of course not." You replied easily, "What kind of spouse would I be if I couldn't help carry the financial burdens with my husband?"

She shut her trap instantly, huffing in fury. Osamu had never looked prouder.

The family rejoiced for a little longer, and from the tip of your ears, you heard Osamu gloating slightly about having reached another milestone earlier than his brother.

"I love you," Your husband murmured into the crook of your neck as the two of you cuddled in the warmth of your bed, too far for his aunts' sharp words to hurt you. "And our little boy in there.”

“How do you know it’s a boy?”

“... Father’s instinct.”

Months flew by in a blur, and so did doctor appointments, Sunday shopping trips with Kaoru as you left Atsumu to help Osamu in the restaurant. The pair would drive the half-an-hour trip from Osaka to Hyogo every weekend. This arrangement elicited a couple silly arguments between the twins, of course, but once you taught Kaoru the stern look that would make the two settle like guilty puppies with their tails between their legs— Those arguments became simple matters to handle.

“Have you thought of names yet?” Kaoru asked you while the two of you sipped on coffee.

“I have a couple in mind,” You smiled. “Osamu won’t stop going on about how he was right. The baby’s a boy.”

“Boys will be boys,” Kaoru rolled her eyes. Then, her expression changed to a wistful one. “This might sound odd, but… I just find myself thinking, sometimes… One day, I want what you and Osamu have.”

“... A happy marriage?” You raised an eyebrow, “Honey, you’re already on your way to one. Atsumu looks at you the same way ‘Samu looks at a bowl of gyudon. Or the way I look at a bucket of mint ice cream with peanut butter…”

Kaoru made a concerned look. “The baby sure craves some odd things.”

“You’ll experience this one day.” You returned pointedly. “Logically, I never would’ve thought of eating mint chocolate ice cream with peanut butter slathered on… But cravings are cravings. And it was surprisingly nice.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

After nine long months of waiting, Miya Tomohito was welcomed to the world. Osamu cried (Atsumu made fun of him for it before getting smacked by Kaoru— She was learning a lot from you). Both yours and Osamu’s parents wouldn’t stop gawking at your baby boy, with his little tuff of dark hair, his tightly-fisted hands and the slight cherry-red flush of his cheeks. You never thought you’d fall in love at first sight— But your son was living proof that you were wrong. From the first moment you held him in your arms, you had already given a piece of your heart for him to hold in his tiny little hands.

It quickly became a regular sight for frequent customers of Onigiri Miya to see Osamu walking around the shop, a sleeping baby boy strapped to his back. The two were inseparable. Once, you walked in on your husband having a full conversation with Tomohito, who was sucking on a spoon.

“I’m thinking of adding a twist to my tuna onigiri recipe,” Osamu said, as if he were talking to an adult and not a three-month old baby. “Do you think adding a squeeze of lemon juice will make it taste better?”

“Gwa.” Tomohito replied intelligently.

“Great suggestion, Tomo.”

“Mmm.”

“I see. We could go to the grocery store later to get some tuna and try that recipe tonight.”

“Ba.”

“You’re a genius, Tomo.”

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“I can’t believe you.” Osamu looked helpless. “You’re not… You’re not seriously doing this to me.”

“I’m completely serious.” You said firmly, having put your foot down with no room for argument.

“You’re really choosing him over me?” Your husband’s jaw dropped when you nodded solemnly. “I’m your husband!”

“And he’s my son.” You shot back instantly.

“You’re kicking me out of our bed for our son?”

“He’s sick!” You refuted. “I need him to be as close as possible to me. His fever hasn’t gone down completely yet and I can’t let him go back into his cot tonight. Besides, you might get sick if we all sleep in the same bed. Who’ll take care of the shop then?”

Osamu drooped visibly. He couldn’t believe what was happening— He had lost to a Miya once again— Now his son instead of his brother. “Fine.” He mumbled sadly. “Make your poor husband sleep on the couch.”

“It’s only for one night, ‘Samu.”

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Tomohito's name is written as 智仁. '智' means intelligence and '仁' means compassionate. I have a friend named Tomohito.

Also, when I was writing this I reminded myself to make sure I made the reader gender-neutral. That is, until I realised that I made the reader pregnant. I am an idiot.

haikyuu!! gen taglist: @haru-senji @hikari-writes @whootwhoot @folkloeren @definitely-yours @rirk-ke @animegirlweeb @cemeiia @haikyuushuffle

[writingwithacupoftea]

A family reunited

Summary: Shelby family dinners always bring some drama with them...but none of the brothers expected their sister, Y/N, to join them. After all, she had been missing for 5 years.

Word Count: 3147

A/N: First time writing a fic with a word count over 3000, baby!!! All of the brothers are actually in this but, let’s be honest, Tommy always gets more attention in my writing than anyone else. Let me know what you think of this one, and enjoy!

Part 2

Sometimes you can be better off not knowing the truth. Because the knowing the truth can make your worst nightmares an inescapable reality. A reality that can bring everything crashing down around you.

And that's how the Shelby clan felt about knowing the fate of their sister, Y/N.

Y/N Shelby was 23 when the war began, one year Tommy's junior. Before her brothers left for France, she left them with the promise of having their Mother's favourite sponge cake waiting on the table for them when they got back. She would have to save her money and actually figure out how to make it, but Y/N swore that she'd do it (somehow, even if it did turn out to be an atrocity).

But when the boys stepped through the door of the Shelby residence again in 1918, there was no cake waiting for them. It had been four years, they reasoned, maybe she'd forgotten. Even that didn't seem to sit right with the brothers, however - Y/N always kept her promises, no matter when they were made.  

It was like a dark cloud was looming over the house, but none of them could see what had caused it. Something wasn't right at number 6 Watery Lane.

After embracing Polly and Ada, who had tears flowing down their faces at the mere sight of them, Tommy immediately asked where Y/N was. Their silence had told him everything. Not waiting for an explanation, Tommy stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him.  

It was no secret that Y/N and Tommy shared a close bond; they always had each other's backs and always made time for each other. Despite there only being one year between them, Tommy was especially protective over Y/N, as he didn't want anything to happen that might risk her leaving him alone. He couldn't cope without her, for Y/N was both his rock and his light, even though she carried her own darkness with her.

It was dusk when Tommy finally returned, wanting answers. Polly simply presented him with the letter that had been left for herself and Ada on the night that Y/N vanished, for that was all she knew. It said that she had to go away for a while, to not tell Tommy, John or Arthur as she didn't want to worry them, and that she'd be back home as soon as she could. The letter was dated back to 1916. Two years ago. And no one had heard anything from her since.

Tommy refused to look up at his family after reading the letter over and over again, not wanting them to see the tears that glazed his cold blue eyes. He grabbed his bag (effectively hiding the shaking that had taken over his hands) and mumbled something about going to unpack, before retreating straight up to his bedroom, actively avoiding the pitiful looks being sent his way.

The only other time the family saw Tommy that night was when he walked through the parlour and back out of the front door again. They assumed that he was going down to Charlie's yard, where Y/N and Tommy always went together to talk. It was their special place, for they both possessed a deep-rooted love for horses and always found themselves wandering back to their Gypsy roots. When they were both younger, the siblings would be out for days on end riding in the open air. What a distant memory that was now.

According to their uncle, Tommy didn't leave the yard until the sun was fully risen the next morning.

***

Y/N Shelby had been well known to the Birmingham Police from a young age: she had a, quite frankly, remarkable ability to escape the officers no matter how tight of a spot she had managed to get herself into. She was a listener, and had an impressive memory for information that could be of use at some point in the future. Her brain, in combination with her physical abilities to slip away from or outrun trouble, made her an absolute nightmare for the coppers of Small Heath.

She built up such an impressive reputation that, during the war, she had been asked to put her talents to good use. Y/N was recruited as a spy by British Intelligence, and went undercover in Germany to retrieve vital information which ultimately helped the Allies to win the war.  

It was an opportunity that she would never have been able to resist. Her brothers had always treated her as an equal when it came to the family business (although Tommy was sometimes unwilling for her to take part in certain activities); it had annoyed her immensely when they went away to fight and she couldn't do anything to help.  

(She had tried to become a nurse with Ada, but was also kicked out because she couldn't stop laughing when her sister had started laughing).  

But this was her way around it and, as far as she was aware at the time, her brothers would never have to know about her dangerous escapades.

However, not even Y/N Shelby was the perfect criminal or spy. In the March of 1918, she had been on the verge of completing her latest mission when the plan had gone awry. Instead of using her limited time to escape, she had ensured that the information she had gained was communicated properly to her associate. This decision left her with an open police case in Germany, and Y/N was forced to go into hiding.  

As that fact hit her, only one word came to mind: shit.

***

For a year after returning home Tommy searched for Y/N, and turned up nothing. She seemed to have disappeared without a trace. His desperation fuelled his ambition: Tommy wanted to make it big, not just for money but for status and connections. This, he hoped, would provide the opportunities to dig deeper and give him access to speak to the right people, so that he could find out where his younger sister was.  

Because despite the slight shadows that lurked in the back of his mind, he clutched onto his conviction that Y/N was still alive somewhere. He didn't believe in much these days, but he would always believe in his sister.

But in 1920, even Tommy was starting to have his doubts, though he refused to admit them or accept them. His search was beginning to become futile and none of his fucking contacts had been able to turn up everything.  

And so Tommy began to spiral further and further downwards, for Y/N wasn't there to stop it and he didn't have the strength to do it alone.

By the time 1921 had rolled around, the family had pretty much given up all hope that their sister was still alive. However, none of them wanted to be told that harsh truth. What they didn't realise, though, was that it couldn't be further from the truth.

***

Polly Gray wasn't a woman to be easily shocked. She had seen and done too much in her time for that.

Having been settled in her new house (courtesy of Thomas) for a few weeks now, she knew exactly who had her new address – she had only given it to the people that she actually wanted to hear from and knew that they weren't a threat. So, when she didn't immediately recognise the writing on the front of an envelope, worry took over her. However, upon closer inspection of the handwriting, she stopped. Polly knew that writing, but she couldn't believe what she was seeing. She ripped the envelope open, and what was contained in that letter shocked her more than anything that had happened over the last three years:

Polly,

DO NOT SHOW THIS LETTER TO ANYONE OR TELL ANYONE ABOUT WHAT IT CONTAINS. It's not sensitive or anything, I just want to keep it a surprise. A secret between us girls, just like the old days (I've written to Ada as well).

As you can probably tell, it's Y/N, and I'm alive and well. I'll explain more when I get home - I'm on my way back to Birmingham now.

By the time you get this, I'll be arriving in two days' time. I'll come to the address that I posted this to, I know that's your fancy new home. Then, how about we organise a little family get together? You know I've always been one for the dramatics (although I promise me disappearing off for 5 years wasn't completely intentional).

I can't wait to see you again soon; I've missed you all so much.

All my love,

Y/N Shelby xxx

(P.S. in case you don't believe that I am who I say I am, I've enclosed my Mother's necklace that Tommy gave to me on my 16th birthday, to prove my identity.)

And there the necklace was, sat at the bottom of the envelope. Silent tears began to roll down Polly's face and a smile, as big as the day that Michael returned to her, brightened her features.

Y/N Shelby was coming home. And, boy, were those two going to have some fun telling her brothers...

***

The day that the 30-year-old turned up on Polly's doorstep was a blur of tears, hugs and gin.  

Y/N had been introduced to Michael, who they couldn't really avoid because he lived there, but who was more than happy to keep their secret. Just being with Polly again made her realise that she was finally home.  

Whilst Y/N already knew a lot about what had happened since she left, having kept tabs on the family through her various contacts while she was away, the next day Polly helped to fill in some of the gaps in her knowledge. Polly also told her about how torn up Tommy still was about her absence, and it was enough to nearly send Y/N running straight to him. But then her aunt reasoned that it was probably better for Thomas to pass out in shock in her home, where they could set up lots of cushions as a crash pad, as oppose to on the hard streets of Birmingham.

And so the planning commenced. It was decided that Polly would host a dinner for the whole family, telling everyone that she needed to put her new house to good use, and that they could combine it with a proper welcome for Michael.

As the day drew nearer, Y/N could feel butterflies in her stomach constantly. Her excitement at seeing her whole family again was almost overwhelming. Yet she dreaded having to tell them all the truth about her prolonged disappearance.  

But, honestly, the excitement won over her nerves every time.

***

When Y/N heard her brothers' voices booming through the house, she had never been more grateful that she was running late in getting ready (as usual) and didn't have her makeup on yet. She hadn't been able to stop the tears falling from her blue eyes as the familiar sounds of her family's squabbling travelled up the stairs like music to her ears.

Everything was ready for the night that she had dreamed of for nearly three full years.

Fuck, I'm still in my pyjamas, Y/N realised, and hurried about getting ready.

Having memorised where the creaky steps were earlier that day, Y/N creeped down the stairs silently, clad in the most gorgeous midnight blue dress that she had ever seen. When she looked in the mirror, with her makeup on and hair done, she had realised how much she had grown up since she last saw her family.

But she had no time to think about that now, for it was nearly her moment.

Lingering in the doorway with a glass of champagne, and sending Polly a wink, she felt her heart rate shoot up as her aunt stood up with her own glass.

"Now, before we have dessert, I'd like to make a toast." She paused, looking around the table, her own happiness threatening to overflow. "To family."

"To family!" The brothers and Michael chorused.

Stepping into the light and leaning against the doorframe, completely unnoticed by her siblings, Y/N waited until the noise had died down before gently repeating the toast: "To family."

***

It felt like time had stood still.

Arthur, John and Finn's heads whipped around to see where the voice came from. Tommy had frozen completely, tensing up as he heard his sister's voice for the first time in seven years.

"Y/N/N?" Arthur whispered, not believing his eyes.

"Hello boys," Y/N said with a smile and a teasing glint in her eye. "Did you miss me?"

John stood up slowly and made his way towards her, and Y/N stretched her hand out towards him after putting her glass down. Her little brother tentatively placed his hand in hers, and she squeezed it, reassuring him that she was really there. She saw a couple of tears form in his eyes, though he refused to let them fall. John started to laugh, wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted Y/N up, spinning her in circles and hugging her tightly. Still laughing, he exclaimed "Oh my fucking God!" and placed her down on the ground.

Y/N was next almost knocked flying with a hug from Finn, who buried his head into the crook of her neck as he cried silently. "Look at you, eh! Almost as big as me now, aren't you?" Y/N placed a soft kiss on the top of her youngest brother's head and rubbed his back soothingly. Over Finn's shoulder, she saw Arthur approaching her, seemingly lost for words. His hand cupped her cheek as he ran his thumb over it, before finally saying "Now what sort of time do you call this, young lady?" Y/N collapsed into giggles as Arthur placed a rough kiss to her forehead.

As Finn and Arthur pulled away, Y/N's eyes found the only brother who hadn't yet greeted her and who she was the most anxious to see. Tommy still hadn't moved, his eyes fixed firmly on the table in front of him, but Y/N could tell that they were cold.

"Tom?"

There was silence. After what felt to Y/N like a lifetime, Tommy spoke quietly and slowly. "I don't want to look up and find that you're not really here. That this is all in my head. I don't think I could bear it." His voice cracked slightly as he uttered the last sentence and, for the first time since the war, the family saw their brother's vulnerability as clear as day. It was a stark contrast to the Tommy Shelby that they'd gotten so used to being around.

Y/N cautiously walked over to her beloved elder brother, as if he were a spooked horse, and lowered herself into the seat beside him. She observed his eyes flit over to her as the chair creaked, so quickly that if she had blinked at the wrong moment she would have missed it. She smiled gently at Tommy. "Well I'm afraid you're going to be stuck with me for a while now, Tom, so you'd better start getting used to having me around again."  

As Y/N gently placed her hand on top of his, Tommy's entire body relaxed and at the same time something ignited in him. He felt alive for the first time since the war, and yet so at peace at the same time.

Suddenly, Tommy grabbed her hand in his, pulled Y/N to her feet with him and brought her into a bone-crushing hug. A thousand emotions and lost words were communicated in that one embrace, in that one moment, even. Tommy clung to his sister like she would vanish again if he loosened his grip. It was only when she whispered "I'm here now, Tom" in his ear as he stroked her hair that he relinquished his hold on her.

Tommy pulled away only slightly from Y/N and held her face gently in his hands. "My sweet girl," he breathed, a small smile gracing his lips. Y/N brought her hand up to his and held it there, the sibling simply enjoying the moment of being together again, tear tracks staining both of their faces.

The silence was broken by Arthur, who gruffly announced: "I need another fucking drink." The whole family started to laugh, the reality of the event finally sinking in.

"Yeah, you pour us all another drink, Artie, while I go and get your pudding." Y/N skipped towards the door.

"Y/N/N we don't fucking care about pudding now, you dick, just get back here now," John shouted after her.

"Bloody hell, no need to shout, John boy, I'm only going round the corner." She leaned around the doorframe, making sure to keep one hand on it to reassure Tommy. "Anyway," Y/N continued, "I've got to give you three your coming home present!"

"Our coming home present?" Arthur chortled.

"Yes," Y/N replied, matter-of-factly. "I believed I promised you lot cake" and she entered holding a cake exactly like their Mother used to make.

The three eldest brothers simply smiled fondly at their sister, shaking their heads.

***

An hour later, the family were all crowded into Polly's living room, having consumed the entire dessert. The gramophone was gently playing music in the background, as no one had bothered to take the record off once Arthur and John had finished dancing with their sister (they had claimed that they needed their toes stepping on to bring them back to reality).

The Shelbys and Grays spent some rare time together as a family that evening. No fighting, no arguing, no business: just talking and reminiscing and laughing.  

But now the night was drawing to a close. Finn had fallen asleep, the overwhelming emotions of the evening having finally caught up to him. Arthur and John were drunkenly singing in the corner of the room, yet they occasionally looked over at their sister, wanting to check that she was still there. Tommy simply felt complete again. For once his silence did not come from an attempt to conceal his true emotions, there was no point in trying that again tonight; he was just cherishing the moment, wanting it to last forever.

As for Y/N herself, she couldn't remember ever feeling so content before. She felt like she was on cloud nine, curled up to Tommy's side as they sat on the sofa together, watching the flames dance around in the hearth. His arm was around her shoulders, holding her close to him, and every now and again Y/N felt him place a soft kiss on the top of her head.

She knew that she had a lot of explaining to do. But that could wait until the morning. For now, they were a family reunited, and none of them could wish for anything more.

[13uswntimagines]

Where Do I Fit? (Preath x Little!Reader)

Request: angsty little!reader with Tobin, where Tobin was rs caretaking fir way before Christen(like since college?) and they tell Christen but she isnt okay with it at first but accepts it by gettung r stuffies to apologise?

“It’s not like that Chris,” Tobin sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her elbows rested on her knees. The two of you had been trying to explain this for a better part of an hour, and Christen still didn’t understand. 

“Then tell me what it’s like Tobin, because from what you’ve said it sounds like your adult friend pretends to be a toddler, and you give her baths and feed her bottles. Do I need to continue? It’s some kinky shit-...” Christen said exasperated, frustratedly running fingers through her hair. How Tobin thought she would be ok with this? She was at a loss for words. 

Tobin shook her head, blinking up at her girlfriend “It’s not sexual Christen. It just-“  

“What, makes you feel good?” Christen spat, crossing her arms defensively across her chest. 

“Helps me deal with stress and anxiety, in a more positive way,” you mumbled, shifting anxiously on the couch next to Tobin, shivering at the glare Christen sent your way. You weren’t in love with Tobin, actually, you had a girlfriend of your own (who also happened to be little). Tobin was your safety blanket, and you just wished Christen could understand. 

****

Tobin had been your mama since college. An arrangement that had been made after she found you curled up under your dorm room bed, so stressed you didn’t know what day it was much less what stuff you had to get done. Instead of running away, she had pulled you into her arms and rocked you until you were done crying. 

After a little research and some explaining about why you regressed and how long it had been happening on your end, Tobin wholeheartedly embraced the role of Mama. And together you became more comfortable. She made you bottles and helped you keep track of school and soccer. As your best friend she decided it was her duty to protect you, and you were too fucking adorable when you were little to pass up. 

Then your Mama started dating Christen, and after a few months of them being serious, it was decided that you had to tell Chris. That you could propose that she join in your little arrangement. You got along well with the woman, and she was pretty nurturing to you anyway (especially at national team camps) making sure you ate and didn’t stay up at all hours of the night with your girlfriend and the youngins. 

****

Christen paused mid-pace, turning to look her girlfriend in the eye. “I don’t know how I feel about having a third person in our relationship Tobin,” She said calmly, crossing her arms. 

“Baby, I promise you it’s not like that. Y/n may be my baby girl, but I’m not romantically attracted to her. She’s my best friend, and this helps her,” Tobin pleaded, begging for the woman she loved to understand. She didn’t want to lose her and she didn’t want to lose her baby girl. You were a very sensitive little, absolutely petrified of her getting bored and abandoning you one day. She had made so many promises, and she couldn’t bear the thought that she might have to break them. 

“So what, she’ll call you whenever she’s little and you’ll just fucking drop everything to go ‘help’ her?” Christen’s eyebrow quirked up. 

You frowned. You had been hoping that this conversation would end in you having another mommy, so technically you would be calling them, and you were always mindful of overstaying your welcome. 

“I wouldn’t abuse that,” You huffed. 

“But you can’t control when you're little or whatever right? As long as you’re involved in this thing, she will always come first, and that’s not a healthy relationship,”  Christen asked viciously, turning her attention to you for the first time. You sunk into the couch, fighting the natural descent into little space that came with such looks. With looks only Moms could muster. 

You opened your mouth to respond, only for Tobin to jump in first. “Babe, we’ll figure it out. I was act-”

“Well then, I’ll be back when you figure your priorities out,” Christen scoffed, grabbing her keys and her purse and slamming the door behind her. 

Heavy silence stretched across Tobin’s apartment, both of you staring at the door. 

You hadn’t been expecting things to be rainbows and butterflies, but you didn’t think it was going to come down to an ultimatum. Little you or the love of Tobin’s life. It wasn’t a fair choice, but you knew exactly what needed to be done, no matter how much it hurt. 

“I was afraid that would happen,” You sighed, staring at the door, gulping to try and stay big. Trying to force yourself to hold back the painful emotions that were rattling in your chest. Someone had to be the mature one. The realistic one. 

“Y/n,” Tobin said softly, her voice ruff with unushered tears.

You shook your head, patting her knee, but never looking in her direction. If you did you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself together anymore. You wouldn’t be able to do what needed to be done. You had promised yourself that you would never get in the way of her love life, and you were about to follow through on that. “It’s fine Tobin. I understand,”

“I love her,” Tobin said, sniffling, and you felt a little piece of your heart crack. Didn't Tobin love little you too? Just not enough. You swallowed hard, again pushing those feelings down. This wasn’t about you, and Tobin deserved to be happy. 

“I know. Go after her, I know how to let myself out. I’ll go to Lindsey’s and text the group chat to see if anyone wants another little,” You shrugged. Lindsey could handle you and your girlfriend for the night, and the group chat was sure to be able to give you good advice, at least until you figured this whole thing out. They hadn’t let you down yet. 

Tobin made a strangled sound at the mention of the group chat. At the idea that one of her friends could ever replace her as your mama. She knew that it was the logical next step (you and little Em were a handful on your own, together you were little terrors), but she couldn’t help the little twinge in her heart. 

“I’m sorry,” She said, bringing her hand over yours and squeezing tightly. She hoped it could convey how badly she felt about this whole situation. She never thought Christen would react so badly. 

You bit your lip, avoiding looking at your mama. “Don’t be. You were the best Mama ever. Now go,” You mumbled, kissing the back of her hand and shooing her towards the door. She didn’t even spare a glance in your direction as she left. 

You stood from the couch, walking to the guest room that always served as your nursery. You collected your little things bag, Roary (you could never leave him behind), and your Batman blanket before heading towards the door. You paused in the doorway, turning to glance over the room one more time, allowing yourself to reminisce for just a second. How you wished this night had gone differently. You sighed, shaking your head and closing the door behind you. You would find a new caregiver, but Tobin would always be your mama. 

****

You were miserable. Completely, totally and utterly miserable. Hovering somewhere between adult you and little you, curled up in the corner of Lindsey’s couch, staring listlessly into space. Even your girlfriend cuddled into your side, running race cars gently over your legs couldn't cheer you up, and Lindsey was starting to get worried. 

“I don’t know what else to do, short of calling Tobin,” Lindsey said quietly, watching you from where her and Kelley were hovering by the door. It was one thing handling her little handful, and a complete other trying to take in both of you at the same time. She didn’t even know where to begin with you, hence why she called in reinforcements. 

You had known Kelley and Alex for almost as long as you had known Tobin. You trusted them, and if anyone could get you out of your funk, your aunt Kelley could. 

“You tried pudding?” Kelley asked, biting her lip. You were curled into the couch, Emily cuddled into your side, sending glances every now and then towards the stuffed triceratops you had left on the other couch. Pudding was little you’s favorite cheat food, and if that didn’t work she wasn’t sure what to do next. By now the entire team was aware of what was going on between you and Tobin, and none of them were surprised that little you wasn’t taking it so well. 

“And ice cream, and hot pretzels and Mac and cheese. I even tried warm milk,” Lindsey nodded. She had seen you upset before, but never this bad. She was literally at her wits end, and Emily wasn’t even being her normally bratty self. 

“Damn,” Kelley sighed, rubbing the back of her neck anxiously. How Tobin was going to fix this mess she didn’t know and how she was going to aid your obviously miserable self she wasn’t sure either. 

“Yeah, and she forbade me from calling Tobs,” Lindsey mumbled, patting Kelley’s shoulder. Kelley was known to have a magic touch with littles, but Lindsey was skeptical anyone besides your mama could pull you from this funk. 

“From the text she sent the group chat I’m not surprised. I’ll see what I can do,” Kelley nodded, shooing Lindsey towards the kitchen to heat up some Mac and cheese. She would get you to eat something even if it killed her. 

She slowly made her way over to you, gently patting Emily’s shin when she was close enough. “Hey Emmy, your mama wants to see you in the kitchen please,” 

The blond little blinked up at her, big Emily suddenly very present in her eyes. She didn’t like how much pain you were in, but you both trusted Kelley. The two stared at each other for a moment, before Emily nodded once, seemingly satisfied that Kelley would help. 

Emily leaned up and kissed your cheek before toddling off towards the kitchen. Maybe mama would get her a cookie. 

Kelley took her spot, watching you carefully, as though you were a puzzle she was trying to solve. “How you holding up bug?”

You shrugged in response, tucking your legs tighter underneath you and crossing your arms. 

“Not too good then huh?” Kelley filled in, scooting a little bit closer to you, taking a breath of relief when you didn’t curl into an impossibly tighter ball. 

You nodded once. While big you understood why Tobin couldn’t be your mama, little you was devastated that she had chosen someone over you. That she didn’t love you anymore (big you knew this was just as hard for her). 

Kelley’s eyebrows furrowed. You usually hovered around 2 and a half or three when you were little, but this version of you was far smaller. Small enough for you to go nonverbal. The only person to see you this small was Tobin, and as far as Kelley knew the last time this had happened you were still in college. 

“Well, I don’t know about you, but Roary was telling me that his tummy was hurting. Does your tummy hurt?” She asked you softly, holding up your favorite stuffed triceratops and wiggling him in front of your face. 

You shrugged again. Yeah your tummy was a little grumbly, but you were sad and all you wanted was for mama to scoop you up, but she couldn’t. 

“I know you’re upset bug, but not eating isn’t going to make you or Roary feel better, ok? Aunt Lindsey made Mac and cheese and it’ll warm you up ok?” she tried again, nudging your cheek with Roary’s nose. You bit your lip in thought. You did love Mac and cheese, and you didn’t want Roary to turn into a grumpasaurus. 

“Otay,” you mumbled, reaching for the defender (who despite her short stature was still an inch taller than you). She smiled tightly at you, handing you your stuffed Dino and picking you up to head towards the kitchen. At least they were getting you to eat. 

*****

Christen sighed from her place on the couch next to Tobin, glaring at the cellphone that had gotten far more attention than she had tonight. All she wanted was a date night with her girlfriend, and Tobin had spent the whole thing glued to her phone, nervously biting her lip. 

“Alright, who have you been texting all night?” Christen asked, pulling away from Tobin and wrapping the blanket tighter around her. 

The midfielder turned forward blinked and sat back to look carefully at her girlfriend. “Lindsey,” Tobin said, biting her lip. 

Christen’s eyebrows furrowed. “What’s up with Linds?” 

Tobin sighed. “Y/n went to stay with her until preseason starts. Emily’s there too and she wanted to hang out with her girlfriend,” 

“So what, why has Lindsey been texting you?” Christen asked. She was usually good at following Tobin’s train of thought, but she was lost. 

Tobin sighed again, shaking her head. “Y/n is having a really hard time, and I know you think it’s just some weird kink or something, but little Y/n doesn’t understand what’s happening. She doesn’t know what she did wrong and Lindsey needs some advice on how to handle her,” 

Christen’s back straightened immediately at the mention of your name. She thought she had made her opinion clear. “How can you say that like Y/n is two people. Like she isn’t manipulating you into doing what she wants?” Christen said, throwing her hands up in exasperation. 

Tobin took a deep breath trying to figure out how to explain it. How to make her girlfriend understand that it was so much more than you pretending to be a kid for a little while. “Y/n isn’t two people, and she isn’t manipulating me. That’s evident considering she forbade Lindsey from calling me,” Tobin started calmly, picking at a stray thread on her pants. She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find the right words to explain it. “It’s not a sexual thing for her. It’s about trust. When y/n is little she doesn’t have to worry about everyday things, she can trust that I’ll take care of her. That no matter what happens, someone will be there to protect her. That no one will abandon her…” her voice cracked. 

That’s exactly what she had done, isn’t it? Abandoned her best friend?. 

Christen pulled her into a hug, letting her sob into her shoulder. It was hard to see Tobin this upset, even if she didn’t fully understand why. 

“My relationship with her isn’t like the one I have with you. She loves Emily,” The words were muffled by Christen’s shoulder, but the forward heard them loud and clear. 

Her eyebrows furrowed. She had done some research after Tobin had initially told her, but this was turning out to be way more complicated than the online forum suggested. If Emily was involved too, and you were dating her, then why did you need Tobin? 

“Why can’t Emily be her mama?” She asked softly, honestly trying to understand this mess. 

Tobin leaned back, wiping her eyes. 

“Cause Emily’s little too and that would be dangerous. Lindsey takes care of Em like I take care of Y/n,” 

Christen nodded as she took in the information. That made sense. If you couldn’t necessarily control being little, then it was possible you would both slip at the same time (or one could trigger the other). That did seem like a pretty bad idea for a long term solution. 

But if Lindsey was there, then what was the problem? 

“I just don’t understand how I fit into this whole thing,” Christen said after a few minutes, finally looking Tobin in the eyes, searching for the answer. 

“You don’t have to deal with her when she’s little if you don’t want to. I just didn’t want to hide it from you,” Tobin shrugged, running a hand through her hair (the weight on her chest lifting just a bit now that Christen actually seemed to be willing to talk about this). 

“If she’s here, I’m not just going to ignore her,” Christen scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Tobin’s lips ticked up just a bit. She wasn’t sure if Christen realized she had basically said you were going to be around, but Tobin was pleased with the new development. Maybe Christen just needed to logic it out a little bit more to become more open to the idea, but she wasn’t going to force her into something she wasn’t comfortable with. 

“It’s still the Y/n you know, just a little bit more carefree. A little more silly and cuddly. You don’t have to be around her, but if you wanted to… she was gonna ask if you wanted to see what being a caretaker with me was like,” She said, leaning in and nudging under Christen’s chin with her nose. 

Christen frowned, pouting a little, the real reason she had been so against the idea initially finally rolling from her lips. “She wasn’t trying to take you away from me-“ 

Tobin was shaking her head before Christen even finished her sentence. “No, she was trying to include you,”

You had been open to the idea of being little around Christen (hesitant, but open especially if it meant including the woman your mama was head over heels for. 

The silence stretched between them for a few long seconds, broken only by Christen’s sigh. 

“I fucked up,” She mumbled, pinching the space between her eyes, completely missing Tobin’s blinding smile. 

“We fucked up, now let’s go fix it,” Tobin said, kissing her girlfriend’s cheeks and standing, extending her hand for the woman to take. They would make this right together. 

*****

Kelley would say that you were tolerating dinner. You were reluctantly opening your mouth for the airplanes of Mac and Cheese she was sending your way, glancing longingly at Roary (who was eating his carrots in his very own seat across from you). 

Lindsey had gotten up a few minutes ago to answer the door but had yet to return. That was why you were taking turns having Kelley feed you bites of dinner with Emmy. 

Kelley lifted the next bite up to your lips, but you pulled your head away. “No tank you,” 

Kelley sighed, leaning forward to make eye contact with you. “Baby, you’ve only had two bites. You need to eat a little more for me please,” 

You rapidly shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. You didn’t want to eat the stupid Mac and cheese. You wanted your mama to love you again, but she was off loving Christen. 

“It otay, I eat Mac for you,” Emily said, patting your arm and placing a very sloppy kiss on your cheek. She didn’t like it when you were upset, and if she got more Mac and cheese out of it, then that was fine with her too. 

Kelley glared at the younger defender. You didn’t need any more encouragement to not eat, especially when you were this fussy. “I don’t think it works like that Em”

She looked back into your direction(ignoring your girlfriend’s pout), making her voice soft and sympathetic “Come on Y/n, 5 more bites please,” 

You whined loudly, shaking your head rapidly and kicking your feet a little in displeasure. The tears were now falling heavily down your very red face. “No want it!!”

“Alright bug,” Kelley murmured, pulling you into her lap, and letting you cry it out. You buried your face in her shoulder, heartbreaking sobs wracking through you. Kelley rubbed circles into your back, and carded her fingers through your hair, trying to soothe you. When that didn’t work, she carefully transferred you into a very familiar lap.

*****

You clung to Tobin as though your life depended on it, fisting her sweatshirt like you thought she would disappear at any second. You probably thought she would, Christen noted. 

It was truly a pitiful sight so see, and each little sob from your lips was like a knife in Christen’s chest. She hadn’t known what to expect when Lindsey said you were taking it hard, but it most certainly wasn’t this. It made her apology gift seem incredibly inadequate. 

“No babydoll, I’m never leaving you again. I promise,” Tobin said into your hair, rocking you to try and ease the wave of tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“But you wove Christen,” You said, though your voice was muffled by Tobin’s shoulder and your tears, Christen heard the words loud and clear. She shared a look with Tobin over your head, and she knew that she was the only one who could fix this mess. 

She knelt down next to you, carefully rubbing your back, encouraging you to look at her. You obliged, rubbing your bloodshot eyes as you pulled away from Tobin. 

“Tobin can love both of us darling, and I see that now. I’m sorry that I couldn’t see that before, but if you’re willing, I’d like to try helping your mama take care of you when you’re little,” She said softly. 

“No make me go bye bye?” You asked, sniffling. 

“No little one,” Christen reassured, bringing her thumb up to while away a stray tear. “No I brought a friend, but they don’t have a name yet. Do you think you can help me out?” She said, holding up the stuffed dragon they had picked up for you as an apology. 

You gently grabbed the purple stuffie, holding him very close to your nose, and examining him carefully. “Spike wants ta know if we go home?” You said after a few seconds, poking your tongue out the side of your mouth. Christen and Tobin laughed lightly at your expression. 

“Yeah, let’s go home,” 

[blushing-starker]

Anon asked for alpha Peter and omega Tony for a baby announcement. Thank you to the wonderful @vaguekiwi for motivating me and sharing her thoughts on the story. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did, anon.

"Tony, Tony? Are you up? It's 7:30am already, you have a meeting with Miss Potts in forty minutes. Tony?"

Soft hands curl into already silver hair, scratching at the strands in an attempt to wake him up gently. Butterfly kisses on a cold nape, a ridiculously hot nose nuzzling everywhere. Peter knows scenting the billionaire is basically the only way one can ensure a calm morning.

Not today. And not for the next few months either.

He loves his husband, appreciates the nearly romantic demeanor, he does. But "unless you have a cup of coffee for me, there is no way in hell i am gonna leave this bed. your child has kept me up with nausea the entire night. I wanna hurl my guts out more than that time Rhodes found Dad's liquor cabinet. please, tell me you have coffee."

"..." Tony is severely displeased by the fact he can read Peter like a book even with half his mind shut off because fine, he's right and dammit all.

"I want that weird drink you make. The one with milk, cinnamon and chunks of brownie. And French toast with waffles. No jam, not too much butter, as much sugar as possible. Now, go before I scream at you for having the only dick that could get a hormone fucked forty something omega pregnant. "

The kid scrambles from bed, practically face plants with all the covers tangling long legs and yup, this is the person that the universe designated as his soulmate. Because Tony Stark can never have a partner with a reasonable, normal amount of enthusiasm, stamina and a sense of balance.

That sounds like he's ungrateful, he's not. But it turns out being three months pregnant gives him plenty of perspective to peer at life in a whole new way that does not include caffeine, alcohol or sex.

Would he kill and die for this amazing human being that makes Tony's heart race no matter the day, that inspires him to be a better version of himself? Yes, no questions asked. No hesitation and no regret.

Would he clobber Peter for doing the impossible and technically causing Tony incredible discomfort on a daily basis thanks to what his doctors can only assume is a superhuman baby he already loves and adores more than life itself? Also yes.

Things aren't mutually exclusive in this household.

Pep, bless her, has yet to find out about their future mini Parker so there's been no respite on the whole 'running a multi billion dollar industry ' thing. And yeah, while it's not exactly easy, he can focus on other things and not fall into a panicky state of mind — because him? A father? Of a super baby? Tony Stark, infamous playboy with a hedonistic streak, a dad?

Just thinking along those lines makes shame and self doubt slither over a metallic plate. Working, dealing with innovative scientists, crafting the new world of tomorrow, guaranteeing the safety of their planet, shapeshifting into a role model, a mentor (for the interns and school kids he visits, not Peter, of course, thank God they left that dynamic ages ago), loyal friend, reluctant errand boy (fuck the assholes in charge of the Accords), great husband, good man, it all distracts a fearful child from thinking, what if I turn into Howard?

"I couldn't find brownies, so cookies it is! Aunt May had a few boxes sent in when I told her work was keeping you on your feet all the time. Said it'd be a good idea to snack along the day in case you—" Peter freezes, tenses with a not-so-narrow back held ramrod straight. Oh, his husband brought him breakfast in bed.

How could he ever think to clobber such a nice, wonderful—

"Your scent is odd."

"Yeah, well fuck you too then."

Five seconds of silence.

"I'm bringing you one cup of coffee and the hormone pills."

" Yup, that's a great idea. "

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

Tony’s mumbo jumbo with self loathing is firmly put on the back burner after inhaling a delicious breakfast and chugging that one glorious cup of coffee. Until they go to the bathroom and he sees himself in the mirror.

"We gotta tell them."

"You said you wanted to wait a while before saying anything."

Peter strips, ducks into the warm shower, lets out a pleased little sigh and Tony wants to rip his fingernails off. Is it bad, having sex while pregnant? No! The doctors, every single one of them, said it's a perfectly normal thing to do. It'd be bad if they didn't have sex because Tony, thanks to his crazy hormone production, needs the extra attention for his body to understand this is a happy process that shouldn't include sad pheromones or stressed out moments. Will Peter put him out of his misery and allow a quickie in the mornings? No.

"Take more than five minutes in that shower and I'm joining you."

Listen, he grew up in the 80's and 90's, Tony wasn't immune to peer pressure. Did he cave and eventually do so many squat competitions with Rhodey his butt turned into a duck's butt? There's no evidence, he's made sure, but yes. And Starks have always turned out to be beautiful, doesn't matter your gender or age. Finding a companion for the night has never been a problem for anyone in his family tree.

That, and his work as Iron Man has kept him — well, not ripped like Cap, certainly not as lean and (God help him) athletic as Peter, but fit. Sturdy. Firm. Solid. (Peter once muttered the words 'daddy-like' in regards to his body and he nearly choked on water.)

The passage of time has made him a bit slower, dusted once black hair with, as his husband says, stardust and the corners of his eyes now show how much time Tony spends laughing or frowning. All in all, he looks fucking spectacular for his age and experience as a villain-punching-bag. Thing is, he has a belly. A bump. A curve where it was once, well. Less curvy. Is it a problem for Peter? Nope, as acknowledged every time his alpha tackles him if he so much as looks oddly in the mirror. Is it a problem for him? He'll get back to you on that.

The point is, there's a belly when just a few months ago there wasn't such a pronounced belly. It's great, of course. Proof their child is growing steadily and Tony's body is adjusting to it accordingly. A small part of him, the omega part he actually lets live, is fascinated and proud. He's doing that, Tony's the one growing a human being, creating life out of nothing in his own body. That child, although not the only physical embodiment of their relationship, is a result of his love for Peter. Of how much his husband loves him. They love each other so much they're gonna start another family together. That chokes him up a bit, reminds him how grateful he is for Peter and for the other Avengers. If they hadn't been so accepting of his status, would he have ever considered going through with this?

Anyway, he's not gonna start sobbing this early in the morning when there's no alcohol involved. It's fantastic seeing his child develop, good, warm and fuzzy feelings, yada yada yada, it's also not very easy to hide. And Tony...Tony wanted to hide it from his family because.

Because Peter hasn't been the only partner in all his life that has wondered about a future with a white picket fence. Because when he was Peter's age, in his goddamn prime, a doctor, ten doctors, all the doctors told him the same thing, smashed his dream into a million pieces. Tony was nearly infertile. There was a one in a million chances of him getting pregnant. If he did, they couldn't be sure his body would be able to maintain two hearts. And then the cave happened.

So yeah. It happened to his cousins, his aunt, a few uncles, his grandmother. Tony would do a baby announcement, but only the second that baby was outside of him and safely in his arms. Now there are still several months left and nothing certain. But time is a bitch and beginning to show the world, maybe those extra pounds aren't from eating the Parker's amazing breakfasts.

"Tony, you know I don't wanna risk-" Losing control of my strength. They've been together long enough that Tony can see quite clearly between the lines.

"Hurting us, yeah, I know, I understand. I'm getting too wide, we're gonna have to tell them or Natasha will take one look at me and whoops, impromptu announcement from someone else. It's a miracle she was out on those missions when we found out." Thank God for renegade troops.

He's still looking at himself in the mirror when Peter comes out, barely dries up and slides behind him. His husband is slightly taller now, can easily hook a curved jaw on Tony's shoulder to peer at the image they make. Contrasts, he supposes, have always enthralled Tony. The study of light and shadow. Variations of the same basic components. Where his body is aging, showing signs of wear and tear, Peter's is evolving into something beautiful, majestic. Silver hair, chestnut brown. Scarred canvas, silky smooth and sunkissed skin. Soft, fragile curves, chiseled lines that deserve to be revered more than Michelangelo’s David. But their eyes, their eyes are equally tired.

“We can tell them if you want, have dinner together and just, just say it. Like that -”

“No. It's our kid, we're not gonna act like it's ripping off a band aid. This is special, unique. Dinner is good. Fantastic, actually. Wait for dessert, and announce it. “ Peter comes ever closer, wraps arms that could carry the world around him and how did he get so lucky?

They've lied to each other in the past. Mostly in the beginning, when they were too worried about hurting their new relationship to show their desires and wants. Tony didn't explain the Training Wheels Protocol. Peter tried to fight high level crime on his own. Things got hard to understand, like being in the right place at the wrong time. Puzzle pieces that didn't quite fit together, an extra inch of space prohibiting them from seeing all the possibilities that the truth could bring. They were walking the same path, just in parallel lines that never crossed.

But then he'd been rejected, thrown away and able to realize how fucking stupid it was to let Peter go when being near the kid, it felt like finally breathing after residing in the deep end of a pool for a thousand years. So Tony ran after him one day, crashed into his AP English class, half assed an excuse for the baffled teacher, yanked Peter out of the room and proceeded to have the best make out session of his life with his back against the kid's locker. And now they don't lie, ever.

Which is why it's so hard to accept Peter's, “You're beautiful, Tony. The handsomest man I've ever seen in my life. I loved you before, I love you now, I'll love you forever, Anthony Stark. You carrying our kid doesn't change that, how could it, Tony? It's going to be ok. The three of us will be ok and I won't stop thanking whoever decided I'd get to marry my wet dream.”

Scorching kisses trace his pulse point slowly, sharp nails start dragging against a too thin shirt, but it's the fact that Peter hasn't looked away from him, is confidently holding his gaze through the glass, that makes Tony shudder and stop breathing.

The bathroom is flooded with pheromones, cinnamon and honey assaulting an unprepared billionaire, and he'll die if they stay like this, can't function properly, brain switching gears, trying valiantly to remember baseball stats, past wounds, May's cooking because Peter's gonna wreck his sanity if those hands keep winding down, if those lips don't stop unraveling him like a Christmas present.

“If I'd known you'd get this handsy and romantic, I would have complained about how I look earlier." It's a gasp, half murmur, half plea as Peter grins at him shamelessly. “I know it's rude and wrong and sexist, but I like comforting my omega, acting like a stereotypical alpha. Makes me feel like I'm doing my job of making you happy. “

He quirks an eyebrow, is glad Peter can be comfortable enough to take the reins every once in a while. “You're telling me that assuring me I'm still drop dead gorgeous, “ his husband snorts, nips at Tony's shoulder for that quip, “ makes you horny because you feel like an alpha comforting, and I quote, ‘your omega’? “

Peter reverts back to the shy teenager who could barely ask a girl out to the homecoming dance, ducks his head into Tony’s neck with a blush quickly spreading over damp skin. “Well, I've got news for you, sweetheart. Your wet dream also thoroughly enjoys it so you better break tradition and have sex with me to remind me I'm the hottest man you've ever seen. "

He's actually serious about this, his self esteem hasn't exactly been, you know, the best and Tony's mood always improves significantly after playing around in bed with Peter. Besides, it's a sign of trust. Peter won't hurt him or their child, will be able to hold back his strength. He always does.

Listen, it's not exactly moral, but he has more than enough problems to go ahead and analyze his attraction and dependency on Peter while pregnant.

“So, I can distract you from your bad thoughts by acting sort of possessive and taking you to bed? " Oh, he adores when his husband is afraid of showing a new side of himself and asks for permission ever so sweetly.

“Babe, if you don't, I'll kick you out of the apartment. Give me possessive Peter Parker any day you want, like I'm gonna complain about a gorgeous, brilliant twenty something year old all over me. Now what's it gonna be, alpha dear, bathroom or bedroom? I wouldn't mind the tile but, oh God, I forgot you could pick me up." Tony clings to broad shoulders, can't help but laugh because aren't they a pair?

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

After having what he's sure was the best sex of his life, Tony stumbles out of the bedroom with torn clothes, a dazed look in his eyes and several bruises blossoming around his neck. Peter's halfway out the doorway when Tony whistles, makes sure all their family is paying attention, blurts out, “Peter and I are having a kid. I'm pregnant, woohoo, it's great, it's amazing, save your congratulations for later. We'll do a proper thing soon, if anyone interrupts and they're not dying, I'll kill you myself. See you in a few hours, " and yanks him back in while Friday activates Sock on the Doorknob Protocol.

Rhodey and Nat clink glasses while waiting on the others to pay up on their bets regarding Tony and Peter's odd behavior.

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

Later, much later, like, two days later, they have a proper dinner with their family in the tower. There are balloons and streamers, cake and ice cream, warm hugs and gentle cheek kisses, subtle tears and full on weeping (Happy had to borrow a box of Kleenex), pictures and videos and a pile of gifts taller than Tony.

The most important thing, though, is that the A.I recorded the reaction after Clint asked about baby names. He's grateful they went to the doctor before tonight. The visit revealed a treasure Tony thought he'd never have. Now it's time to reveal it to their pack.

His husband snuggles up to him, is so ecstatic the whole dining room smells like cinnamon and honey, like joyous love he'll never get enough of. Tony grins at him, curls their hands together and repeats the same thing over and over again in his head.

It'll be ok. They'll be ok. If the universe keeps giving Tony the greatest gifts he could ever want, maybe it's time he stopped looking at the horse's mouth. That's how it goes, right? Right.

He turns to look at Peter, loves him so much it aches, feels tiny feet pressing against his stomach. Guesses he's not the only one smitten with this incredible human being.

“We were thinking Marie,” Peter smiles at him, eyes lit up and lovely.

Tony is never going to forget this moment, this warmth in his chest.

“And Benjamin Parker-Stark.”

Their family loses their shit and both Friday and Karen have ample proof.

(@puppypeter look, omega tones! @tonystarkisaslut thank you so much for allowing me to use the prompt board! I am still accepting prompts! Although I can't guarantee getting them ready within a few days, I'll try to finish them on the one week mark depending on how long the fic is!)

[bibbawrites]

Made Your Mark On Me, a Golden Tattoo - Single Dad!Charlie x Owen

THIS IS PART 10 OF THE SINGLE DAD!CHARLIE SERIES, YOU CAN FIND THE OTHER PARTS HERE

Request: none

Word Count: 3760 words

Summary: Part 10 of Single Dad!Charlie, Owen comes to LA to stay with Charlie, Margaux and Meghan, and the boys go on their first date

Warnings: swearing, sexual references, implied sexual content pretty sure everyone knows at this point but this does include romantic chowen, remember this is fictional, if you dont like that just dont read :)

A/N: another day another part lol, i have far too much written for this series considering there is no demand for it but i’m enjoying it so i’m gonna keep writing purely just for @happinessinthedarkesttimes​ and myself lol also! a new nickname for margaux has been unlocked haha she has far too many cause every person keeps giving her their own nickname and ive lost count of how many there are... anyways, enjoy! 

Tag List:  @happinessinthedarkesttimes @molinaroberts @joynersgoatblog @courageous-she​ @littlemissaddict @gloomybrieyxb​ @itsyagorlemmalyn @jatpxmultifan​ @moneybagmgk​ @emeliii1​ @mybradforddream​ (the strike through means it wont let me tag you)

Char sent a message to OPJ

Char owweeeennnnnnnnnnn

Char come to la

OPJ why?

Char i miss you

Char wanna kiss your pretty face

Char and your pretty lips

Char and your pretty 🍆

OPJ charlieeeeeee

Char what? i did nothing wrong

OPJ you just said you wanna suck my dick

Char i never said such a thing

Char read the messages, i only said i would like to kiss your pretty face and your pretty lips and your pretty 🍆

OPJ and we all know what that emoji means

Char get your head out of the gutter honestly

Char maybe i just love eggplant

OPJ ugh whatever

Char so will you?

OPJ will i what?

Char come to la

Char we’ve been officially boyfriends for almost three months and we haven’t even had our first date yet

OPJ when do you want me

Char right now

OPJ that’s not possible bub

Char bub?

OPJ trying something, yes or no?

Char meh i don’t hate it

OPJ i’ll keep looking then

Char anyways, i booked you a flight...

OPJ char you didn’t have to

Char i know i’m just so desperate to see you

OPJ what time and day?

Char ...

Char today 3pm...

OPJ it’s 11am now

Char you better get packing

OPJ already am 

Char oh i know you are ;)

OPJ i didnt mean it like that and you know it

OPJ you’re gonna be the death of me Gillespie

Char i know ❤️

-

The second Charlie spotted Owen exiting the gate he was jumping into the blond’s arms, glad that they both had masks on to prevent him from kissing Owen senseless with hundreds of people around.

“God I missed you.” He muttered, face pressed into Owen’s neck. 

“I missed you more.” Owen replied, pulling back slightly. “Where’s Maggie?”

“With Meghan. She’s visiting for a little bit so she offered to look after her while I came to get you.” Charlie explained, grabbing Owen’s carry on as they headed through the airport to baggage claim. 

“Is she staying with you?” Owen asked. 

“She is, but I may or may not have booked the four of us into a hotel for a few days. She leaves on Thursday so if you wanna stay after that we’ll just go back to my place.” Charlie said. 

“We’re staying in a hotel?” Owen grinned, coming to a stop at the baggage carousel, his eyes focused on looking for his suitcase. 

“Yeah! Mags is pumped, she loves hotels, especially high rise ones. We’re going back to mine to collect the two of them then we’ll head there.” Charlie said

“Does Meghan know about...” Owen trailed off, glancing over at Charlie who shook his head. 

“I didn’t tell her, I wanted to find out what you wanted to do first.” Charlie replied. Owen smiled. 

“I’m okay with telling her.” He said. 

“Or maybe we just act like a couple around her and see how long it takes her to notice.” Charlie suggested and Owen shook his head. 

“You’re evil.” He spotted his bag, leaving Charlie’s side for a few moments before coming back over, his suitcase trailing behind him. 

“Don’t think it will take long, cause the second that front door shuts behind us I’m gonna be all over you.” Charlie grinned, taking Owen’s free hand once the younger boy was back by his side, leading him out of the airport. Owen blushed slightly. 

“Can’t wait.”

-

True to his word, the second that the door was shut Charlie was shoving Owen against the wall and kissing him with so much force that he thought his lips might bleed.

“Fuck, missed you so much.” Charlie mumbled against Owen’s lips, groaning when Owen’s fingers dug into his hips.

“Char...” Owen gasped out and Charlie just kissed him harder, wanting to make up for lost time.

“When you’re done trying to swallow each other, we’re in the kitchen.” Meghan’s voice called and Charlie groaned, stepping back from Owen. He didn’t want to stop, but he knew if they kept going they wouldn’t be able to.

“We should go to them.” He said, and Owen nodded, still slightly stunned from the aggression of the kiss.

“Probably.” He agreed, but neither of them made any attempt to move, so Charlie nuzzled his face into Owen’s neck, just taking in the familiar scent of his boyfriend. 

“This hotel, how is the room situation going?” Owen asked, his hand trailing through Charlie’s hair. Charlie lifted his head up.

“I booked a two bedroom suite. Margaux and Meghan can share one room and we’ll take the other.” He said. Owen smiled. 

“Okay good.” He replied. Charlie raised an eyebrow. 

“Why?” He asked. 

“Remember your texts?” Owen smirked, and Charlie’s eyes widened at the realisation. 

“Don’t be so horny.” He muttered, hitting at Owen’s arm. Owen grinned. 

“Says the guy who just had me pressed up against a wall.” He retaliated. 

“We can hear you, you know that right?” Meghan called, and both Charlie and Owen froze. 

“We did not.” Charlie called back, and both boys decided that was their cue to head into the kitchen, where Meghan and Margaux were waiting.  

“Papa!” Margaux exclaimed the second they entered the room, jumping down off her chair and rushing over to Owen, jumping into his arms. Meghan gave Charlie a look, eyebrows raised. 

“So, finally got your shit together then?” She questioned. Charlie glanced towards Owen and Margaux, a smile appearing on his face when he saw the way the four year old was clinging to the blond boy. 

This was how things were supposed to be. 

- 

Less than an hour later the family of four had checked into their home for the next few days and travelled up to the fourteenth floor to find their room. 

Once they found it Charlie tapped the keycard against the door and pushed on the handle when the light changed to green. Margaux pushed past him, running into the room and heading straight towards the door to the balcony, pressing her face into the glass. 

“Woah!” She exclaimed, standing on her toes to try to see the road below. 

“Good view?” Charlie asked, placing the bags he was carrying down on the couch, before opening the door and letting Margaux out onto the balcony, trailing closely behind her as Margaux rushed over to the railing. 

“Look Daddy.” She grinned as Charlie squatted down behind her, placing a hand on her back gently. 

“Wow look how tiny those people are.” Charlie said, and Margaux giggled. 

“They’re ants!” She replied, leaning back into Charlie. 

“For someone who travels as much as she does you’d think she’d be used to it by now.” Meghan joked quietly to Owen as the two of them stood and watched the interaction.

“Especially since we lived in an apartment building in Vancouver while we filmed.” Owen replied. 

“Kids.” Meghan shook her head in amusement.

“You wanna see your room baby?” Charlie questioned, and Margaux nodded excitedly. 

“Okay let’s figure it out.” Charlie stood back up, taking Margaux’s hand and leading her back into the main room. 

“Am I gonna stay with you Daddy?” Margaux asked, and Charlie shook his head. 

“No you’re gonna stay with Meggy.” He said, motioning towards his younger sister. 

“It’s gonna be like a sleepover.” Meghan grinned. Margaux pouted. 

“But I wanna stay with Daddy.” She whined. 

“You’ll be with Daddy until you have to go to sleep, okay?” Charlie told her, pushing open the door, revealing the room with the two double beds.

“And look at this nice big bed you get to stay in all by yourself. You can fit all of your toys around you.” He added, and Margaux frowned but didn’t protest. 

“Which bed do you want Mini? The window one?” Meghan questioned. 

Margaux glanced at the beds before nodding. Charlie placed her bag onto the bed, unzipping it to reveal the several stuffed toys and dolls they had packed.

“Look, we’ll put all your friends on your bed.” He said as he placed the toys out onto the bed, pulling out Margaux’s blanket last. “And your blankie, and look how nice this looks. You’ll have so much fun sleeping here.”

“And we can even sing with each other at night, or gossip about secret girl stuff.” Meghan added, sitting on the edge of her own bed. 

“What girl stuff?” Margaux questioned, climbing up next to her aunt and snuggling into her arms. 

“Butterflies and glitter.” Charlie joked, and Owen rolled his eyes at the reference, turning and leaving the room as a response.

“We’ll stay up all night talking about boys.” Meghan grinned and Charlie’s smile instantly turned into a frown. 

“Hey! No.” He reprimanded.

“I’m joking Charlie, don’t be a party pooper.” Meghan rolled her eyes. 

“You joke, but we had a full conversation a month ago about how someone wants a boyfriend.” Charlie said, and Margaux looked up. 

“I want a boyfriend.” She chimed in. Meghan laughed. 

“You’re four, why do you need a boyfriend?” She asked. Margaux frowned. 

“Daddy has a boyfriend.” She stated. Meghan smirked, looking up at Charlie. 

“Does he now?” She teased. 

“Shut the fuck up, you knew that. You literally just asked if I had gotten my shit together.” Charlie said, and Meghan rolled her eyes at him. 

“You didn’t confirm it.” She retorted. Charlie shook his head. 

“Hey Meghan, Owen’s my boyfriend.” He stated, ignoring the flutter in his chest at those words. 

“Wow! Thank you so much for telling me, that’s so nice of you!” Meghan replied, her tone thick with sarcasm. 

“Don’t be sarcastic.” Charlie retaliated. 

“What’s that Taylor Swift lyric? The one about looking at him like the stars, that’s you and him. It’s honestly about time that you got your shit together.” Meghan said, flopping backwards onto her bed, giggling when Margaux climbed on top of her. 

“Tay’s my boyfriend.” The tiny blonde stated and Charlie sighed.

“Who?” Meghan shot him a confused look. 

“Taylor Kare. Who played the young version of Bobby in the show. For some reason she’s decided she wants him to be her boyfriend.” Charlie explained. Meghan grinned. 

“I don’t blame her, he’s cute.” She said. Charlie shot her a look and she rolled her eyes before sitting up, Margaux clinging to her like a koala. 

“Hey Mini, why don’t we go get some food and bring it back while your Daddy unpacks all of your stuff.” Meghan suggested. Margaux smiled. 

“Yeah! Can we get KFC?” She asked. 

“Of course we can.” Meghan grinned, before turning to Charlie. “Want anything?”

“Just get one of those big buckets of chicken and we’ll figure it out.” He said as Meghan stood up, grabbing her mask. 

“Okay. I’m stealing your wallet.” She told him. 

“Of course you are.” Charlie rolled his eyes, but handed his wallet over to his younger sister nonetheless, before leaning in to kiss Margaux gently on the side of her head. 

“Bye baby, have fun and be good for Meggy, okay?” He said. Margaux nodded. 

“Bye Daddy, love you.” She replied. 

“Love you too.” Charlie smiled. 

Meghan and Margaux left, the four year old chattering away in her aunty’s arms about something she had seen in Bluey, and Charlie waited until he couldn’t hear their voices anymore to move. 

“Owen?” He called, starting to head across the suite to the room he and Owen were sharing. 

“Yeah?” Owen called back. Charlie pushed open the door, finding a much larger room with a large king size bed in the middle of the room, and a flat screen tv hung on the wall. Owen was unpacking his bag, hanging clothes in the wardrobe, when Charlie entered. 

“Meg and Mags went to get food.” Charlie told him. 

“Okay cool.” Owen replied, looking up after a few moments and frowning when he saw the look on Charlie’s face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Remember the texts?” Charlie raised an eyebrow and Owen’s eyes lit up. 

“Come here.” He said, but Charlie didn’t move. 

“We’ve gotta be quick.” Charlie informed him and Owen nodded. 

“Got it.”

And with that Charlie rushed over to Owen, kicking the door shut behind him.

-

They were a naked mess of sweaty bodies and tangled limbs when Charlie decided to bring up their plans for the night. 

“Oh by the way, I have our date planned.” He said as Owen played with his hair. 

“Am I allowed to know what it is? Or when?” Owen questioned. Charlie nodded slightly. 

“Tonight. At 10:30pm.” He informed the blonde. “And it’s a surprise.” 

“10:30?” Owen repeated. Charlie hummed in response. Owen sighed. 

“That’s all I’m getting?”

“Yep.” Charlie murmured. 

“We’re back!” Meghan’s voice called through the suite and both Charlie and Owen jumped up in fear. 

“Fuck, get dressed.” Charlie instructed, tossing clothes towards Owen, before calling back to Meghan. “Coming!”

In record time they were both dressed and came out of the bedroom, trying to look as casual as possible as they walked over to the table where Meghan had placed all the food. 

“Daddy, you didn’t unpack my stuff.” Margaux pouted, and Charlie placed a soft kiss on the top of her head as an apology. 

“Sorry baby, Daddy got distracted.” He told her as he grabbed some food for her and put it on one of the plates Owen had brought over to the table. 

“Oh gross, you didn’t.” Meghan groaned, glancing between Charlie and Owen, who had turned a bright red in embarrassment. Charlie just shrugged, a guilty smile on his face. Meghan fake gagged. 

“That’s disgusting Char.” She reprimanded. Charlie shook his head. 

“It’s natural.” He retaliated. Meghan hit him. 

“Shut up, I don’t want to know anything else.” She said. The table fell silent for a moment, before Margaux decided to speak up. 

“Daddy we saw a puppy when we were walking.” She grinned, and Charlie pulled a shocked face. 

“Oh my gosh, really? Tell me all about it.” He replied, and for the entire meal Margaux rambled, telling them story after story. 

-

Just before 10:30, Charlie and Owen arrived at their date destination. Owen looked up at the sign, frowning slightly when he saw it. 

“A tattoo parlour?” He questioned. Charlie smiled, despite the fact that Owen couldn’t see it through his mask. 

“You’ve been talking about getting a new tattoo, so I figured we could get a new one together.” He suggested. Owen’s frown melted, a soft look replacing it. 

“Why is that oddly sweet?” He teased, leaning his head into Charlie’s shoulder. Charlie grinned. 

“Cause I’m oddly sweet?” He replied. Owen laughed. 

“That you are.” 

“Do you have any ideas of what you wanna get?” Charlie questioned as he held the door open. Owen gave him a small smile, walking through the door as he answered. 

“I have a couple of ideas.” He said. “Things that I think would look cool.” 

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Charlie’s eyes lit up with curiosity. Owen shook his head. 

“Secret. Want it to be a surprise.” He grinned. Charlie chuckled. 

“Fair enough.” 

After going through the basics and signing some paperwork, it was time for them to get their tattoos. The tattoo artist led them through to the backroom and for the whole time they were there Charlie and Owen didn’t once let go of each other’s hands. 

- 

The two boys left the tattoo parlour a few hours later, hand in hand and new tattoos covered in a protective cling film. 

“Do you wanna head back?” Charlie questioned, swinging their hands between them. Owen sighed. 

“Not really, but we probably should. It’s late.” He answered. Charlie nodded in agreement. 

“True. Plus the date doesn’t have to end just because we go back to the hotel... There’s a nice comfy bed and some red wine with our names on it.” He raised an eyebrow and Owen smiled. 

“Fancy.” 

“Only the best for you.” Charlie grinned, and Owen pulled him close, pulling down their masks so that their lips could meet in a rough kiss. 

And if it took them almost an hour to make the 15 minute walk back to the hotel then that was just between them. 

-

Charlie unlocked the door to the hotel room and pushed it open, frowning when he spotted Margaux sat on the ground, staring out the window at the city lights.  

“Why are you still awake Mags?” He asked as he pulled off his mask, drawing the four year old’s attention to them. 

“Missed you.” She said softly, her voice wobbling. 

“Oh baby, come here.” Charlie squatted down and the four year old ran into his arms, burying her face in his neck. Owen nodded towards their bedroom and Charlie gave him a small smile to let the younger boy know he understood. 

“You were gone but you said you wouldn’t go.” Margaux mumbled. 

“You knew I was gonna go out with Papa for a little bit, remember? It’s okay, I’m back, and I promise I’m not going anywhere. Okay?” He tangled his hand through her curls and the four year old hummed in response. 

“Okay.” She agreed, her voice no louder than a whisper. Thinking quickly, Charlie decided the best course of action would be distraction. 

“Hey, you wanna see Daddy’s new tattoos?” He asked, and Margaux nodded, moving back slightly. Charlie smiled at her. 

“First I got this one here.” He lifted his arm to show her the heart tattoo on his ribcage, the plastic mostly obscuring it. 

“And I got this one here for my favourite person in the whole entire world.” He finished, showing her the tiny cursive M inked into his wrist.

“An M for Margaux, so I always have you with me.” He said, and she peered at the tiny ink on his wrist, a small smile appearing on her face. 

“I like it.” She told him. “Can I have one?” Charlie laughed.

“When you’re all grown up, okay?” He replied, ruffling her hair. 

“Okay.” She agreed. They fell silent, and Charlie was just about to suggest that it was time for Margaux to hop into her bed when she spoke up again. 

“Daddy?” Her voice sounded small. 

“Yeah baby?” Charlie replied. 

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Margaux questioned, already leaning back into his arms. 

“Of course baby. You got Mr Penguin?” He asked. 

She held the penguin up and Charlie grinned.

“Great, let’s go.” 

He stood up, taking her spare hand to lead her towards the bedroom, pushing the door open to where Owen was sat, already in bed with Netflix loaded on the TV. 

“Papa! I’m gonna sleep here with you.” Margaux exclaimed, diving onto the bed as Owen raised an eyebrow, looking towards Charlie with a knowing look.

“Oh really? What about your bed?” He asked.

“She was sad.” Charlie pouted, and Owen just shook his head. 

“Come on baby, in you get.” Charlie said, letting the four year old climb into the bed before climbing in after her, grinning when she settled into his arms, her head on his chest. 

It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, and once she did, Owen spoke up, his voice soft. 

“You know one day you gotta stop letting her climb into bed with you.” He whispered. Charlie made a noise in response, his eyes never once leaving Margaux. 

“One day... just not today.” He replied. 

“The longer you give in the harder it’s gonna be for you. Cause I know it’s as much you as it is her.” Owen said, and Charlie sighed, his fingers tangled through Margaux’s curls as the four year old slept peacefully in his arms. 

“I know.” He started. “I just...” 

Owen reached out, linking his hand through one of Charlie’s and giving it a light squeeze. 

“It’s stupid.” Charlie mumbled. Owen moved slightly, placing a kiss on the side of Charlie’s head. 

“I’m sure it’s not.” He assured the older boy. Charlie was silent for a moment before talking. 

“She’s just always been with me and has always needed me to do everything for her, and now she’s getting older and she can do all of these things on her own, and I just get worried that she’s not gonna need me any more, or she’ll decide that she doesn’t want these nights where she asks to sleep with me.” He rambled. 

“You’re her dad. She’s always gonna need you Char.” Owen assured him. Charlie hummed in response, and Owen took that as a sign to change the topic, a small smile appearing on his face. 

“So I’m guessing no post date make out session or red wine.” He joked, and Charlie sighed. 

“Sorry.” He muttered. Owen rolled his eyes, snuggling as close to Charlie as he could get without disturbing Margaux. 

“I was joking Char.” He said, and Charlie moved to place a soft kiss on Owen’s lips. 

“I had a really good time tonight.” Owen whispered against Charlie’s lips and Charlie smiled. 

“Me too.” He agreed. 

“Do we have any plans tomorrow?” Owen inquired, and Charlie paused for a moment. 

“Not that I know of. Why? Have something in mind?” He moved back slightly so that he could look at Owen’s face. 

“I thought maybe the four of us could go play mini golf or something like that?” Owen suggested. Charlie smiled. 

“That sounds like a lot of fun.” He answered. They fell into a comfortable silence, both boys closing their eyes, but there was something that Charlie knew he had to say. He opened his eyes and took a deep breath before speaking.  

“Hey Owen?” He whispered. Owen opened his eyes, focusing on Charlie instantly. 

“Yeah?” He questioned. Charlie smiled. 

“I love you.” He murmured. Owen smiled, rubbing his nose against Charlie’s. 

“Love you too Char.” He replied. Charlie shook his head. 

“No... I’m in love with you.” He clarified. Owen’s jaw dropped slightly, but he recovered quickly. 

“I’m in love with you too.” He returned, and Charlie lent in to kiss him gently. 

“It scares me.” Owen whispered once they pulled apart. “How much I love you.” 

“Honestly, me too. But we’re in this together. And I love you as much as you love me, so don’t overthink it, okay?” Charlie replied.

“Okay.” Owen agreed. 

“We should get some sleep.” Charlie said after a moment and Owen nodded, placing once last kiss to Charlie’s lips. 

“Sounds good. I love you.” He whispered, and Charlie could already feel himself drifting off as he whispered a response. 

“I love you too Owen.” 

[innytoes]

For the softish dialogue prompts: #14 "No one's ever... for you before?" "Never." With my favorite rare pair (which is your fault, by the way /lh), Ray/Reggie

(Set in the 'Never-Died Reggie dates Widower Ray universe'.)

When he woke up, Ray was gone. Reggie stretched out, groping across the mattress before opening his eyes. He made a sad little noise, burying his face in the side of the bed where Ray had been. He fumbled his phone off the nightstand and checked to see if maybe Ray sent him a text, letting him know why he had to leave.

No texts.

It was cool. They weren't that serious yet. Ray probably had his kids to go back to, even though he'd said last night that their Aunt was watching them and was staying the night. Maybe he'd left a note, or something. Reggie should get up and check. Except he didn't want to. The bed smelled like Ray and he knew he was falling way too fast, and he knew that if he got up and found no note, he'd be heartbroken. Just... let him have this for ten more minutes. Then he'd get up and walk Ellie and pretend he was totally cool with his date sneaking out in the morning.

Except as he was breathing in the scent of Ray’s aftershave in the pillow, willing himself to fall back to sleep so he wouldn’t have to deal, he heard the door open and the sound of happy little doggy feet tap-tapping on the floor. The bedroom door opened (his dog was way too smart) and Ellie launched herself onto the bed, giving him kisses. He laughed, fending her off and petting her at the same time. 

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he said, when she finally settled down in his lap, giving him her blissed out doggie face as he rubbed her belly. 

“Good morning,” Ray said from the door opening. Reggie flushed, but he couldn’t help but smile. “Your dog decided to wake me up by licking my face and trying to shove her entire nose in my mouth, so I fed her and took her on her morning walk.” Reggie laughed, trying not to think too hard about the butterflies in his stomach at the idea of Ray walking his dog. Not shoving Reggie awake to complain about ‘that damn mutt in the bedroom’, or shouting at her to leave, like some of his exes in the past. But actually caring for her, about her.

“Does it help that she only does that to people she likes?” he asked. 

“A little,” Ray said. He walked over, and Reggie quickly wiped at his face to get any dog slobber off. The good morning kiss lingered, and he sighed into it. “We went to that cronut place nearby and got you breakfast. I figured if she’d had her morning walk, we could have breakfast in bed and... spend the rest of the morning there.”

And the promise of a lazy morning in bed, or possibly a very active morning in bed, was very enticing. But Reggie’s brain was stuck on the other part of that sentence. “You got me breakfast in bed?” he asked. 

“Yes, from that cronut place you said you liked,” Ray agreed. He went back to what Reggie assumed was the kitchen, coming back with a tray, a paper bag with something delicious smelling inside of it, and two big coffees. He paused at the look on Reggie’s face, and he wasnt quick enough to school it into something more casual. “No one’s ever gotten you breakfast in bed before?” 

“Never,” Reggie admitted. “I mean, sometimes Luke would throw one of those breakfast protein bars at us on the tour bus.”

Ray gently placed the tray with the bag on the bed, toeing off his shoes and shucking off his jeans before sliding in next to him, careful not to dislodge Ellie. “Well, here’s to the first of many breakfasts in bed, then,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to Reggie’s lips, slowly deepening it when Reggie grabbed the back of his head. 

“I love you,” Reggie breathed out when they parted. This beautiful man with his gorgeous smile, with his kind heart, who was so sweet to his dog and who got him breakfast in bed and whose laugh gave Reggie butterflies.

Except when he pulled back, he realised that they’d only been dating for a couple of months, and that was way too soon to be saying it, and he’d promised Alex he’d take it slow after his last disastrous relationship, and...

“I love you too,” Ray said, smiling. 

[pregnant-piggy]

Secret Summer - part I

George Weasley x reader

Words: 7600+

Warnings: none

A/N: Ah, I want the summer so bad. This is my first George fic and I fell in love with him. I know this one’s long but the next one is shorter. Oh and happy pride month, my loves! 

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

Summer had always been your favourite season. The sun and heat were not your enemy. You loved tanning at the beach and diving into the cold water afterwards. Eating ice-cream three times a day, reading a book in the shadow of a tree and staying up late to look at the stars. The late, hot nights were your favourite.

The only downside to summer was the break from Hogwarts and more specifically the break from your friends. Of course you would try to meet with them, but it was hard to find a moment that everyone was available. A lot of your friends went away on vacation to countries far away and when they got back, you were gone with your family.

Nothing was any different this summer, except one thing. Last year you had missed your friends, this year you missed your boyfriend.

You and George had been together for five months now and you had never been away from him for so long. At Hogwarts you were always around him, in class, going on dates or just studying together. Now he was home and so were you. It killed you. Your parents had decided to go on a holiday with just the two of them and you were supposed to go to your aunt and uncle.

Now that was something you were not looking forward to. Your uncle and aunt were... different from you. They were very strict, always following the rules. And of course it wouldn't just be your aunt and uncle, they also had children. Three. Three little, snitching children. The oldest one was eight years younger than you, so there was not much to bond over.

However, everything would change the day before your parents’ departure. You were packing your bags for your stay with your family when your mother called you downstairs.

‘What's the matter?’ you asked when you entered the living room.

Your father was sitting on the couch browsing through a book called Ten Things To Know When Travelling Through Canada. As an answer to your question he gestured to the kitchen where your mom was busy making dinner.

‘An owl arrived for you,’ you mother said and she pointed at an old brown owl. Around its leg a letter was tied. You tried to untie the letter without hurting the owl but the owl didn't even seem to notice you were touching it.

‘Who is it from?’ your mother asked while stirring in a pan.

‘George,’ you answered.

‘Ooh, what did he write?’

Your mom knew of your relationship with George. As soon as you came home for the summer, you couldn't help but tell her. She was really excited for you and with every owl that came from George she wanted to know what he had written.

‘I remember when your dad used to write me such things,’ she had sighed when George had sent you a letter saying how much he missed you in the first week of the vacation.

You quickly read the letter and a smile broke on your face.

‘He is asking if I can spend the summer at the Burrow,’ you answered your mother's question.

Your mother dropped her spoon and clapped her hands excited. She began to dance around the kitchen. Her squeaks made your dad come into the kitchen, looking suspicious from his wife to you.

‘What is going on?’ he asked.

‘Our daughter is spending her summer with her boyfriend!’ Your mother sing-sang and pulled you into a hug.

‘Mom!’ you giggled and tried to free yourself from her embrace.

Your father looked at your mother and tilted his head.

‘What about Margaret and John? They are expecting (Y/N).’

‘Oh, I'm sure they will understand,’ your mother said and you sent her a thankful smile; she knew how much you hated staying at your aunt and uncle's.

Your father said nothing else for dinner and also kept his mouth when you sat with your parents in the living room. The TV was on and even though your father was staring at it, you knew he was having an inner debate. He knew that you didn't like to spend with his brother’s family and if he let you go, you would have a much happier summer. But then you would be staying with your boyfriend.

It was not like you were actually waiting for your father's approval. You were going anyway, whether he wanted it or not.

‘Dad, it won't be much of a difference than the time we spent at Hogwarts for the past half year,’ you pointed out to your father. ‘And his whole family is there.’

That seemed to do the trick because before you went to bed your dad told you that he would drop you off at the Burrow when he and your mom left for their trip.

- -- -

The next morning was hectic. Now you knew you were going to your boyfriend you had to make some changes to the clothes you were bringing. Your mother helped you pick out some stuff.

When you were packed and ready to close your bag your mom slyly slipped a pack of condoms in it. But she failed to hide it from you.

‘Mom! What?’

‘Oh, come on! You're staying at your boyfriend!’

‘And his family!’ you pointed out. ‘They don't even know George and I are dating. They just think we're friends.’

‘Oh,’ your mother said and she sat down next to you on your bed. ‘You didn't tell me.’

‘It's nothing,’ you shrugged. ‘Actually it is kind of exciting, isn't it?’ you added with a small smile.

Your mother kissed you on your head and closed up your bag.

‘Don't tell your father, he’ll have a heart attack,’ she said before taking the bag and walking downstairs.

- -- -

The ride to the Burrow took forever. It was still early and not many people were awake yet. The roads were almost completely deserted.

The song on the radio didn't reach to you and neither did the conversation of your parents. The trees on the side of the road flashed by and your mind dozed off to the last day of school.

It had been the hottest day of the year and everyone was outside looking for some shade. Some seventh year Hufflepuffs had charmed the greenhouses so that it was cooler there. They had only let a few people in and you and your friends belonged to those people. The sun had shone bright on the glass roofs and lit up the plants around you. The morning you spent with your friends but the afternoon was reserved for George. He had wanted to show you something. He took you to the furthest edge of the school grounds. You had never been there before and was surprised with what you found. There, far beyond Hagrid's hut was a small pond. The sun was reflected by the water and all around the edge of the pond there were pink and blue flowers. You had spent the rest of the day there with George and returned late, almost too late for dinner.

A smile appeared on your face as you thought back of that day. You couldn't wait to see George, though it would be hard not to kiss him in front of his whole family.

After an hour your father drove his car in front of the Burrow. Nervously he looked at his watch. This had not been his plan. He had planned to be at the airport by now.

‘You only have to drop me off,’ you reassured him. ‘Say hi to Mr and Mrs Weasley and that's it.’

Apparently the sound of the car had aroused the Weasley household because Mrs Weasley was walking towards you, followed by Ginny and Ron.

‘(Y/N)! Good to see you! I am happy you could make it on such a short notice!’

Mrs Weasley embraced you and then turned to your parents. You let them talk and said hello to Ginny and Ron.

This wasn't your first time at the Burrow. You had been there quite few times now, but every time you stepped foot on the Weasley's property you were amazed by their house. It was completely different from any house you had ever been in and that’s why you loved it so much.

You said goodbye to your parents and wished them a happy and safe trip. You waved them goodbye until you couldn't see the car anymore and then turned to the house.

‘Fred and George are still in bed,’ Mrs Weasley said while she began with breakfast. ‘Ron, go wake up your brothers! Have you eaten yet, dear?’

‘Oh, yes. I had a quick breakfast before I left,’ you answered and watched Ron ran up the stairs to wake the twins.

‘Do you want something?’ Mrs Weasley asked. She was busy with four pans at the same time and you saw eggs, bacon and sausages.

‘Just tea, Mrs Weasley.’

Mrs Weasley pointed with her wand at the kettle and the water started to heat.

You chatted with Ginny about how her vacation had been so far and you discovered that she, just as you, missed her friends. They were all away for the summer.

‘I'm lucky to have you here now,’ Ginny said and you smiled at her. The age difference between you and her had never been an issue. You got along very well with Ginny.

Ron came back down followed by Fred and George. When you met eyes with George you felt butterflies in your stomach. He sat down next to you at table and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

‘I didn't know you would be here so early,’ he admitted, suppressing a yawn.

Under the table his hand found yours and he squeezed it. You hummed softly as a reaction and from the corner of your eye you could see the smile on your boyfriend's face.

Meanwhile Mrs Weasley had finished breakfast and with her wand she placed the plates on table. She gave you a cup of tea.

During breakfast stories of the vacation so far were being exchanged until the conversation was interrupted with Mr Weasley entering the kitchen.

‘(Y/N), good to see you!’ the man exclaimed when he saw you. ‘George has begged us for the past two weeks to invite you!’

Next to you, George's face turned red. Fred laughed into his plate with eggs and his twin kicked him under the table.

Fred was the only Weasley that knew about you and George. Hiding something this big from your twin brother is impossible. You knew that it would be a tough vacation with Fred's dubble-meaning jokes. They had been there at Hogwarts too and you were surprised not more people knew about George and you.

 - -- - 

‘I missed you,’ George said after he checked the door. He was showing you your room, you were staying in Bill's old room, that had been turned into a guest room, but actually just wanted to be alone with you.

‘I missed you too,’ you replied and placed a soft kiss on George's lips. His hands slid to your back and he pulled you closer. You wrapped your arms around the boy you had missed so much these past weeks.

‘So you haven't told them yet?’ you asked after parting. George laughed a bit nervous.

‘No, I'm sorry,’ he said against your skin.

‘No need to apologise, babe,’ you said and placed a small kiss on his nose. ‘We'll tell whenever we are ready. Until then we just have to be careful.’

And like it was planned, Fred burst through the door. You and George quickly let go of each other and Fred laughed at your shocked faces.

‘You're not gonna keep this a secret longer than a week,’ Fred grinned. George threw a pillow at his brother, who ducked away letting the pillow fall on the ground with a thud.

- -- -

You spent most of the day with Ginny. She had claimed you at breakfast and you didn't want to disappoint her. Besides, you would have the whole vacation to spend with George, one day less wouldn't hurt.

Majority of the day was spent outside in the hot sun. The activities included teasing the gnomes and playing board games in the grass. Mrs Weasley brought you lunch halfway through the day and Ron joined you and Ginny in a game of exploding snap. Fred and George were nowhere to be seen. You slyly asked Ron about them but he said he hadn't seen them.

When it got colder you went back inside. The sun had shone brightly and you could already see the light tan lines on your legs.

After a short shower it was time for dinner. Mrs Weasley had done her best to create the best welcome-dinner you had ever seen. She made all the things you liked and even more.

‘We have to celebrate your stay here!’ Mr Weasley said when you sat down at the table and a sheepish smile grew on your face.

As you started your dinner, conversation quickly changed to plans for the rest of the summer break. You listened mostly; you had nothing to add. You did find out that Harry and Hermione would arrive in two days and would, just as you, spend the rest of their vacation at the Burrow.

‘Harry will sleep with Ron and Hermione with Ginny,’ Mrs Weasley explained.

‘Why not with (Y/N)?’ Fred asked and you could see the mischievous glint in his eyes. ‘She's got much space in her room. Not like she has someone to share it with.’

There it was, a joke that made you want to sink into the ground. George's face turned red and he kicked his brother under the table. But his family didn't understand the joke. They didn't even notice it. Molly just went on to explain that Hermione would be perfectly fine in Ginny's room.

‘Fred is just worried he won't be able to visit Hermione like that,’ you teased Fred. He turned red and his brows frowned; he would take revenge.

Fred was not the only one to react to your joke. Mrs Weasley frowned curious and Ginny chuckled into her chicken. But the most remarkable reaction was from Ron. He had choked on his food and his face was as red as his tomatoes.

‘Wha- what do you mean?’ he asked you in between coughs.

‘Nothing,’ you laughed and patted his back. ‘I'm just kidding.’

Over the table you shot a look to George who shrugged. Was it possible that Ron was jealous at your lie?

You had watched him and Hermione over the past years whenever you were in the same room as them and you had to admit that there was chemistry. But when you asked George about it he said that Ron always denied he had feelings for Hermione, or anyone. Maybe that was not the truth.

Without any more jokes that people could misinterpret dinner finished. You offered to help with the dishes but Mrs Weasley pointed out that you were on vacation here and told Fred to do the dishes.

‘I'm on vacation too!’ he sputtered but his mother already left the room. You laughed and that delivered you an angry glare and a hit with the dishcloth.

- -- -

In your pyjama shorts and sweater you lied in bed. The sun had set a while ago already but you couldn't fall asleep. You had left the curtains open and was staring at the night sky. The little, white dots shone luminous on the dark blue canvas.

Above you the floor squeaked. Someone must have left their bed. You listened to the sound of the soft footsteps that disappeared quickly. A shiver ran over your spine. You knew you were safe but still that feeling of slight fear filled your head. There is nothing to be afraid of, you said to yourself. It was probably just someone who had to go to the bathroom or maybe it was that stupid ghost.

But the feeling didn't decrease as you now heard footsteps on the floor your bedroom was on. And they got louder and louder. You sat up in bed and your hands clasped the bedspread.

The handle of your door went down to reveal a dark silhouette. Your eyes were focused on the figure and you didn't move.

‘(Y/N)?’ the dark figure whispered and you recognised George's voice. ‘Are you awake?’

You relaxed and sighed as you reached for the light next to your bed. It popped on and revealed George in his pyjamas.

Apparently the scared look was still on your face because George said: ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes, you just scared the living crap out of me,’ you said and turned your face into a smile.

George hurried over to your bed and sat down. He cupped your face with his hands and placed a kiss on your nose.

‘I'm sorry. I didn't want to wake anyone. Maybe I should've warned you.’

‘Yeah, maybe you should have,’ you chuckled and let George kiss you. ‘Now to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?’

‘I missed you.’

‘You just saw me two hours ago!’

‘I know.’

‘How have you survived the past two weeks?’ you asked giggling.

‘Barely,’ George breathed in your ear.

His hands slipped from your face to the bottom of your sweater, pulling it over your head to reveal a tank top. In the small light you could see the surprise on his face, but he recollected himself and again reached for the hem of your top. This time nothing was covering your naked chest as he pulled your tank top over your head.

At the sight of you half-naked in his hands, George moaned softly. You could feel the excitement rushing though your body when you pulled the boy closer kissing him passionately. You had missed him. You had missed this.

The night was filled with moans and giggles, so soft no one else in the house heard them. And when you fell asleep, peacefully in the arms of the boy you loved, you mentally made a note to thank your mother for her addition to packing your suitcase.

- -- -

The bed was empty when you woke up the next morning. You knew George had to wake up in his own bed to not raise suspicions but it still made you feel sad.

Silently you got dressed, letting the impressions of last night wonder in your head. In a daze you walked down to the living room. There, Ginny was sitting on the couch in front of the fire, still in her pyjamas, looking just as tired as you. You sat down next to her and said nothing. Together you watched Mr Weasley get ready for his work with the help from his wife.

‘See you tonight, girls!’ he said before stepping into the fire saying ‘Ministry of Magic' and disappearing.

Ginny went upstairs to change and Molly gave you a cup of tea. She looked at with piercing eyes and for a minute you were afraid she had heard you and George. That she knew everything and you had to spend the rest of your summer with your stupid aunt and uncle.

But Mrs Weasley said nothing and walked away, leaving you alone in the living room. You stared at your tea, a bit shocked by your own paranoia.

Before you could finish your tea, Fred entered the room. He sat down opposite of you with a smug smile on his face. You rolled your eyes at him. Of course he knew about last night, but some part of you had hoped that George had managed to escape his room without his twin noticing.

‘Fun night?’ Fred asked and you shot him a dark look but you couldn't answer because Ginny walked in.

She looked a bit more awake now she had changed and probably freshened up. Still the bags under her were clearly visible.

‘Didn't sleep much?’ you asked.

‘No,’ Ginny yawned, like your question reminded her of how little sleep she got. ‘Probably because we did so much yesterday.’

‘Hey, that's funny! (Y/N) didn't sleep much last night either!’ Fred exclaimed.

‘How do you know that?’ Ginny shot back at him, despite her lack of sleep still sharp as always.

‘I heard-' Fred started but you cut him off.

‘I came across him on my way to the bathroom.’ You gave Fred another angry glare and smiled at Ginny hoping she wouldn't notice you were lying.

‘Okay,’ she said and changed the subject of the conversation. ‘What do you want to do today?’

‘I dunno,’ Fred mumbled sinking into his chair. ‘We could play some Quidditch, we don't have even numbers though, maybe (Y/N) can be the referee.’

‘I'm fine with that,’ you said, knowing that your Quidditch skills count for half a person, if not a quarter.

- -- -

After breakfast you and the Weasleys walked to the open field behind the house. The morning sun was already shining radiant and the five minute walk left everyone sweating.

Two hours of Quidditch later everyone was melting away under the heat and the game was stopped. You walked back to the Burrow to find some shade under one of the trees that surrounded the house. Fred disappeared into the house and came back with bottles lemonade kept cold in a bucket filled with ice cold water.

The lemonade was quickly finished and when Ron grabbed the last bottle, Fred took the bucket and emptied it over your head.

Though the cold water was a refreshing and actually quite nice, you quickly turned around and started to cast spells on Fred, wetting him with water jets.

Your attention was on Fred but from the corner of your eyes you could see George looking at you. Or better said, at your shirt. The water had not only made your head and hair wet, it had left you completely soaked. Your shirt was sticking at your body and you were aware of it showing your bra in a not-so-concealing way.

Fred had fled to the house and Ron and Ginny had followed him afraid of also getting wet if they stayed any longer. You were left alone with George and he was not even trying to hide his looks by now.

After quickly looking around and seeing no one he took two steps to stand in front of you, lifted you and pushed you with your back against the tree. His mouth caught yours and his hands squeezed your thighs. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer.

God, you loved everything about this boy. His kiss tasted like lemon and toffees and after a while his mouth opened and his tongue slid into your mouth.

Now, you were only vaguely aware of your surroundings. Anyone could have stood next to you and you wouldn't have noticed. All you could focus on were George's hands and his lips.

After what felt like a way too short time, you had to break apart to both catch your breath. You lowered your legs but stayed locked between your boyfriend and the tree. The bulge in George's pants could be felt through your own shorts and you captured his lips in a sweet kiss.

This moment could have lasted forever if it was up to you, but unfortunately Mrs Weasley's voice broke the comfortable silence. You were hidden behind the tree and she could not see you but at the sound of her voice George took a step back. His face expression changed so fast you were afraid someone had actually caught you but when you looked around the tree you only saw Mrs Weasley in the door frame far away.

You turned back to George but he was already walking towards the house. You ran after him, shirt still sticking to your body and your shorts wet and uncomfortable to walk in.

‘What happened to you?’ Mrs Weasley asked when you stepped foot into the kitchen through the backdoor.

‘Fred and I had a water fight,’ you said and smiled to show her there was nothing to worry about. ‘It'll dry.'

Mrs Weasley pointed her wand at you and you felt your clothes dry. You thanked her and sat down at the dining table. On it there were sandwiches, the reason Molly had called you inside.

You looked around to find George but he had disappeared. Maybe to freshen up?

You spent the rest of the afternoon in the backyard, with your attention in a book. Ron and Fred were playing with a ball, throwing it back an forth. Mrs Weasley was working in the part of the garden that wasn't terrorised by the gnomes.

After a few hours in the sun, you felt like your skin was burning off your body and you decided to go inside. You hadn't seen George since before lunch and you were wondering what he was up to.

‘George? Are you in here?’ you asked and knocked on the door of the twins' bedroom.

‘Yeah.’

The door opened and George came to your sight. He let you in and you sat on his bed.

The floor of the room was scattered with laundry and papers. Just like his dorm at Hogwarts. But here the walls were bright green instead of the dark red of the Gryffindor Tower.

‘Are you alright?’ you asked trying not to sound too worried.

‘Yeah, I'm fine,’ George answered and he sat down next to you. His hand quickly found your hip and he pulled you closer. You rested your head on his shoulder.

‘Okay, you just disappeared and I was wondering if I did something wrong,’ you admitted.

George chuckled. ‘Believe me, you did nothing wrong. I just needed a break from my family, that's all.’

You nodded understanding; you loved the Weasleys but they were a lot to take. Always around and in for a talk. It was nice, but if you wanted some time alone it was not.

‘You want me to leave?’ you asked and already got up but George put his arms around you and pulled you closer to him.

‘You're not going anywhere,’ he whispered in your ear.

 - -- -

‘Do you really have to go?’

George wrapped the sheets over you and placed a kiss on your forehead, in a way only he could. In the dark you could see the regret in his eyes. He didn't want to leave you, but he was, just as you, scared that someone would find him in your room in the morning.

‘It's only-' you looked at the clock on your nightstand ‘-five,’ you grumbled.

‘(Y/N), if I don't leave now, I'll never. I don't want them to find out like that,’ George said, referring to his family.

He got up and walked to your door. You sighed but didn't ask further; you knew this was no discussion. George made his point and the conversation was over.

‘I love you,’ you whispered in the dark.

‘Love you too,’ was the answer before the door closed.

With closed eyes you listened to the footsteps that walked back upstairs. You heard a squeak when George stepped into his bed and then everything got silent again.

But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't fall asleep anymore. You tried everything: meditation, counting sheep, just closing your eyes and thinking about happy things. Nothing worked.

The sun came up and lit up your floor. The curtains were open; you hadn't closed them last night. Usually you slept with the curtains open. At night you loved to gaze at the stars from your bed and you liked waking up with the sun shining on your face. However, not when it was this early.

‘I thought this was vacation,’ you grumbled to yourself when the rooster crowed.

When after ten minutes you really couldn't lie in bed anymore you got up. While you got dressed your eyes fell on an empty piece of parchment on the desk. Your parents must have arrived at their destination by now, maybe you should write them. Merlin knows how long it would take before your letter got to them.

Hesitantly you started to write. What should you tell? You knew your mother probably would want every juicy detail, but your father would read the letter too and you didn't want to give him a heart attack.

After you finishing your letter, the house was not so silent anymore. Mr Weasleys wouldn't go to work today. Instead he would pick up Harry at his aunt and uncle's. Hermione would arrive somewhere in the morning.

‘(Y/N), good morning!’

As you walked into the kitchen, you were greeted by Mr Weasley and George. They were both sitting at the dining table. Arthur was reading the newspaper and George was staring outside.

‘You're up early!’ Mr Weasley exclaimed when you sat down opposite of George.

‘Yeah, I couldn't sleep anymore.’

‘Is it that rooster? I have tried everything to make him stop, but he just won't,’ Mr Weasley said and looked over his shoulder outside.

‘No, it wasn't the rooster,’ you mumbled and over the table you felt two eyes on you.

Mr Weasley turned back to his newspaper and you dared to look at George. He shot you a worried look and mouthed: ‘me?’ You shook your head and averted your eyes from him.

Yes, actually it was because of him, but he didn't need to know that.

‘There is a post office in the village, right?’ you asked.

‘Yes, but you can use our owl,’ Mr Weasley said.

‘No, my father doesn't appreciate owls. Or birds in general,’ you added and thought back of that one time your friend had sent a letter with a dove that wouldn't leave your father alone. ‘I think I'll post it the muggle-way.’

‘I'm sure George will take you,’ Mr Weasley said, already turning back to his newspaper. ‘Right, George?’

‘Yes, of course,’ George quickly said when he saw his father's look.

- -- -

‘I'm sorry about this morning,’ George said and bumped your shoulder.

‘It's fine,’ you mumbled; you didn't feel like talking about it now.

George put his arm around your shoulder after looking around suspiciously.

You held the letter tight in your hand and thought about what you wrote. Even though you had written only about innocent things to save your father from any harm, you had thanked your mother for helping you pack. She would get the meaning behind it, while your father just would think it was a sweet compliment.

The village was still asleep and only a few people were awake. The baker, the postman and a few people on their way to work. On your way to the post office you stopped for coffee and muffins at the bakery.

‘Sweets for my sweet,’ George said when the baker gave him the muffins and you cringed at the cheesy words.

Around people he didn't personally know, George had no problem showing his affection. But once he was around familiar faces that attitude changed and the most affectionate thing he would do was his hand on your back, after making sure no one could see it. At first you hadn't mind it, you had thought it was cute and exciting to have a secret relationship. But as the months passed by, and George still didn't show his affection in public, you feared that maybe you were something he was ashamed of. You had never talked about it with him and just brushed it off every time the thought entered your mind. But now, with his family, it suddenly came closer than ever before and you couldn't ignore the feeling anymore.

A bell tinkled when you opened the door of the post office. It was an old building on the outside and the inside matched the exterior. With wood on the floor and the ceiling the room was dark and felt cramped. Behind the counter stood an old woman.

‘George! How are you?’ the woman crowed.

‘Good, Mrs Mavisson,’ George answered. ‘How are you?’

‘Well, my knees hurt more every day and Craig-' she gestured with her head to the door opening behind her ‘-claims we should modernise our system.’ You bowed forward a little bit and saw a mature man in the shadows. ‘Who is this beautiful lady you brought with you?’

A blush crept on your face and you stared at your hands that were wrapped around your letter.

‘This is (Y/N),’ George said and placed his hand on your shoulder. ‘She's my girlfriend.’

Your cheeks turned even more red and you looked up at George. His cheeks were pink but he looked confident.

‘Well, isn't that wonderful!’ the old woman exclaimed and she took your hand. ‘Look at you, you're gorgeous! Craig! CRAIG!’

The man from the shadow stepped in the light. He was younger than the woman. Young enough to be her son.

‘Craig, this is (Y/N). George's girlfriend!’

Craig was way less impressed than his mother. He glanced at you, conjured a forced smile on his face at George and stepped back in to the darkness.

‘Oh, don't mind him, sweetie,’ Mrs Mavisson said and she waved her hand. ‘What can I do for you?’

You gave her the letter for your parents and explained where they were. It was quickly taken care of and after a jovial goodbye, you stepped outside the office into the sun.

‘Mrs Mavisson has worked her entire life in that store. The only way she'll leave is in her coffin,’ George chuckled and he took your hand.

Maybe you were wrong, but it felt like a weight had been lifted of George's shoulders. On the way back to the Burrow he talked happily and smiled, a lot more than this morning.

However, when the Burrow came in sight he let go of your hand and his smile faded. You immediately missed the convivial boy but you understood it too. Though George would never admit it to someone, home was not his favourite place. It was the place where his mother would scold at him for not doing his best at school or for not cleaning his room. The place where he was one of the Weasleys, the other twin. He was not George, he was a son.

‘If you liked this morning, we can do it more often,’ you suggested.

‘That would be nice.’

‘It would.’

A small smile returned on George's face and this time it stayed there, even when he stepped inside the kitchen and was surrounded by the whole family.

- -- -

The fire was burning and the heat spread through the whole living room. How wonderful the weather had been the past few days, so bad was it now. Though you didn't mind, there was something cosy about the rain and thunder outside while you sat in a sweater and woollen socks in front of the fire.

Ron and Harry were playing chess, with the help from Fred and George, on the floor at your feet. Mrs Weasley was darning socks in a rocking chair in the back of the room and Mr Weasley had disappeared in his garage. Hermione, Ginny and you were sitting on the couches talking.

‘Did you know Pansy is dating that Ravenclaw with the big eyebrows?’ Ginny asked.

‘But I thought she and Malfoy were a thing!’ you said.

‘No, I thought so too, but Luna said that the boy had confirmed it the last day of school.’

‘How awful must it be to date Pansy,’ Hermione sighed and you agreed with her.

‘Speaking of dating,’ Ginny started and you felt like she had been wanting to tell this for a long time. ‘I heard our sweet George is dating someone.’

A high pitched sound escaped your mouth but you hid in behind a cough. George looked up when he heard his name, not knowing what Ginny had said. Fred however had been following your conversation and was staring at you with an expression you didn't trust.

‘What's with me?’ George asked and you tried to sign to him not to. But he didn't see you and now turned to Ginny.

‘I heard you're dating someone,’ Ginny repeated.

George's eyes widened and he turned red. ‘I'm not dating anyone,’ he muttered and stared at the ground.

‘Come on! We're family! Tell us!’

‘There is nothing to tell.’

George got up and rapidly left the room. You felt bad for him, but figured it would only add to the rumours if you went after him now.

Fred got up too and walked after his brother. When he passed you he whispered, but so soft no one else heard him: ‘Don't tell.’

Nothing in Fred's behaviour showed he had said that and you almost thought you had imagined it, but before he disappeared you made eye contact with Fred and nodded.

Maybe Fred wasn't such a joker when it came to you and George after all.

‘I don't care what he says,’ Ginny said after Fred had gone upstairs too. ‘Amy saw him with someone on the last day of school. She didn't see who, though.’

‘Maybe it was just Fred with a wig,’ you joked and hoped Ginny would drop the subject.

‘Well, he must write her,’ Ron said from his position on the floor. He had beaten Harry at chess and was now involved in the conversation. ‘What if we got one of his letters?’

‘Or one of hers?’

You smiled at their plan that was doomed to fail.

The clock stroke eleven and Mrs Weasley, who had fallen asleep, scared up. She sent everyone to bed, but not before scolding at them for letting her fall asleep.

- -- -

You wanted to lie down in your bed, but there was already someone in it.

‘George!’ you whisper-yelled and George put his hand on your mouth.

‘I thought this was easier than waiting for everyone to be asleep,’ he explained.

You lied down next to him and breathed in his scent. The rain was slamming down on the window and muted the other sounds of the house. Everyone once in a while the room lit up and five seconds later the house shook from the thunder.

In silence you lied thinking about the conversation earlier in the living room. You were tired but you wanted to talk to your boyfriend. At night was usually when you and him caught up on each other's day. You had missed talking to him. Of course you had missed the romance, but in the two weeks at home you had realised how big of a deal George was in your life. At Hogwarts he was always around and you could talk to him any moment of the day. It was at home that you realised how much those little moments meant to you.

‘We don't have to talk,’ George said like he could read your mind.

You smiled sheepishly and buried your face in his neck. There was something about doing that that was comforting. You felt like the whole world disappeared for a moment when you hid in George's neck.

His hand was caressing your hair while you dozed off. The thunderstorm was still going on but you didn't even hear it anymore.

- -- -

A loud banging on your door woke you up. You slowly opened your eyes. That hollow feeling of loneliness filled your heart when you reached for the empty space next to you.

The banging continued and you felt the sound in your chest.

‘Who's there?’ you asked and the door opened.

Ginny was standing in your room her face glowing with excitement. She ran to you and dropped herself on your bed. Hermione appeared as well and she closed the door.

‘Gin, it's seven in the morning!’ you groaned and rubbed your eyes.

‘No time to be tired!’ Ginny exclaimed and she sat up straight. Only now you noticed the letter in her hand. She was waving her arms but you could read to who is was written.

‘Oh no, Ginny!’

‘It must be her! Who else would write him?’

‘His friends?!’ you asked and lifted yourself up.

‘I already woke up Harry and Ron,’ Ginny spoke, ignoring your comment. ‘They should be here any minute.’

And not long after she said that the two boys entered your room. The room was not big and with five people there was not a lot of space left. Ron sat down at the foot end of the bed and Hermione on the edge of it. Harry kept standing.

‘Ginny, what is so important you have to wake us this early?’ Ron grumbled at his sister.

She held up the letter and waved it in front of Ron's face.

‘She wrote him! I waited for the mail this morning and this letter was addressed to George!’

Ron's expression showed exactly how you felt.

‘Ginny, it could be one of his friends. And it is definitely not worth getting up for this damn early!’ he said.

But Ginny didn't listen to him. She ripped open the letter with excitement on her face. That didn't last long though. As she read more of the letter her face turned less happy and more into a frown. After she finished it she dropped her hands and stared at it.

‘And?’ Harry asked, but Ginny didn't answered. Ron took the letter from her hand and searched for the sender.

‘Lee,’ Ron said plain. ‘It's a letter from Lee. Not his girlfriend.’

‘It could have been his girlfriend,’ Ginny said with a low voice.

‘But it's not. Nice job, Gin,’ Ron said and got up. He left the room with Harry. Hermione placed her hand on Ginny's shoulder.

‘Don't listen to him. You are right; it could have been his girlfriend. Right, (Y/N)?’

‘Yes,’ you lied and put the letter back in the envelope. With your wand you closed it and gave it back to Ginny. ‘You might want to put his back before he notices.’

Ginny nodded and left your room swiftly. Hermione stared at you and you felt like you knew what was coming.

‘It's you, isn't it?’ she asked and squeezed her eyes.

‘Yeah,’ you smiled. ‘But please don't tell anyone. George- I mean, we haven't really told anyone, so...’

Hermione just smiled back at you and left you alone. Your groaned and fell back down on your bed. Great way to start a day.

- -- -

Your mood didn't get any better as the day went on. Ron apparently decided not to communicate with Ginny in any way but shooting her angry glares and George was silent the whole day, sitting in the corner of the room with a book in his hand. However, not once did you see him turn his page. And on top of it all, it was still raining.

You wanted to talk to him, tell him that there was nothing to worry about. Ginny would get bored by it within a few days and everything would turn back to normal.

However you couldn't talk to your boyfriend until the end of the afternoon. Mrs Weasley had asked her son to go to the store because she had forgotten something and you had offered to join, under the excuse of wanting some fresh air.

So now you were walking with George under an umbrella, arms hooked as soon as the Burrow was out of sight.

‘I love the smell of rain,’ you said. ‘And how everything looks right after it has rained.’

‘Hmm,’ George hummed and you looked at him.

‘Are you alright? Please, don't feel bad or forced to do anything because of Ginny's comment. Don't worry, she'll get sick of it in a few days.’

‘I know. I just don't think I am ready to tell them,’ George confessed.

‘Can I ask why?’ you asked insecure.

‘You saw how Ginny reacted! I can't tell them anything without it being blowed up. And then it is you!’

You held still and looked at George sharply.

‘What do you mean?’ Your voice was demanding and not as soft anymore.

‘They would freak out! (Y/N), I have been hiding our relationship for seven months! If I told them now they would- they would- I don't know! They would laugh at me, at us.’

George's words hurt you. You were standing in front of him with tears welling up in the corners of your eyes. It didn't matter, it shouldn't matter what his family thought. But now it just sounded like you were not enough for his family.

‘So you are just never going to tell them?’ you snorted. ‘I don't care what they think George, you know that. I love you and that is all that matters.’

‘I love you too but-'

‘No, apparently not as much I do. Guess I am an idiot for not noticing after all this time.’

You stepped away from George into the rain. For seconds you stared at each other. The cold rain drops wet your shirt but you didn't care. You were focused on George's eyes and tried to read the expression in them. But you saw nothing. His eyes were empty.

The hot tears mixed with the cold rain on your face. The dark sky was lit up by a strike of lightening and thunder immediately followed. You turned around and started to walk away, back to the Burrow, half hoping George would run after you, the other half of you wanting to be left alone.

And he let you go.

[stilloutofmyvulcanmind]

The Wedding

Pairing: Earth-2 Harry Wells x Female!Reader

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: None

Summary: Needing a date for a cousin’s wedding, you ask your colleague and friend Harry to pretend to be your boyfriend for the day. But is it really pretend when you’re already secretly in love with him?

A/N: My first fully-fledged Harry fic! Ahhhh! If you guys like it and want more, there may be a smutty sequel

                                                       ~

"Got any plans the weekend, Harry?" Cisco asked, leaning back in his chair and stretching his arms. "Or you just gonna wait here for us to get back?" 

Harry glared at him from behind his coffee mug. "Actually, Ramon, I do my best work when I don't have your incessant drivel in my ear."

"Oh yeah, hot stuff? What grand piece of technology are you gonna bless upon us on Monday then? A personality transplant?" Cisco laughed, narrowly swiveling out of the way of the pen that came hurtling towards his head. 

"Nothing this week. I have other plans."

"Suuuch as?" 

"Y/N invited me to her cousin's wedding and asked for me to…pretend we're together. So she doesn't get inundated by annoying questions."

"Ohhh myyy God!" 

"What?" 

"Look, I know my fiction tropes and fake dating? It's a classic! And it's only gonna end one way, my dude."

Harry raised an eyebrow and took a sip of coffee. 

"With you two declaring your love for each other."

Nearly choking, Harry coughed up the drink, his grip on the armrest turning knuckle white. "I...are you…suggesting that I… love Y/N?!" 

"And that she loves you, genius."

Spluttering, Harry shot up from his seat. "Don't be absurd, Ramon! Y/N doesn't love me! The only reason she asked me was because you and Allen are already in relationships! Th-there's no love! Or any romantic…feelings. Why would there be? She's…smart and kind and beautiful! She's brave and strong and I assure you there's no universe in which she'd ever love me!"

Cisco looked at him a moment, smile curling up on his lips. "See, I was just teasing you before, but wow, dude, you're really in love with her."

"Maybe you're in love with her!" 

Cisco simply raised his own mug, failing to hide his own smirk behind it. 

"... Shut up, Ramon." 

~

"Thanks for agreeing to this, Hare," you said, smiling over your shoulder at him before resuming your task of unpacking. 

"It's fine. Nice to get out of the Labs for once." Harry dropped his bag on the armchair of the hotel room you were sharing and hooked the one carrying his suit on the bathroom door frame. "But uh," he gestured to the one bed in the room, "how are we going to negotiate this?" 

"I've got that covered." Reaching into your case, you pulled out the rolled-up sleeping bag.

Harry made a face. "You expect me to let you sleep in that?" 

"I expect you to play me for it." Dropping the bag down, you held up a closed fist. "Paper, rock, scissors."

Harry stared at you a moment then laughed. The sound made your stomach flip in the giddiest of ways. "You should know I've never lost a game," he said, walking towards you. 

"There's a first time for everything, Doctor Wells."

"Bring it on, Y/L/N."

~

You looked yourself over in the bathroom mirror a final time, adding the final touches to your make-up and clasping a silver necklace in place. You were ready, and looking pretty damn fine. Knee-length and with a cold shoulder, the midnight blue dress fit you perfectly. Exiting, with the intent on adding your shoes, you stopped short when you saw the sight in front of you. 

Harry was dressed in a suit that matched the shade of blue you wore, an unintentional but useful detail for your ruse, the white button up standing out stark against the jacket. The most distracting detail was the fact that he'd left one too many of the top buttons undone, leaving a tantalizing amount of neck on display.

Not for the first time you wondered if asking Harry to be your fake boyfriend for the day was your smartest idea. Being forced to share a bedroom and pretend to be smitten with the man you were already in love with was definitely going to take a toll on your sanity. But showing up to yet another family event filled with happy couples on your own, and having to deflect the endless questions as to why seemed worse than having to spend forty-eight trying not to go mad. 

"Y/N," Harry's voice broke you free from the trance, "you...you look…nice."

"Thanks. So do you! Who knew you scrubbed up so well." You moved around Harry quickly, avoiding looking at him too much and sat on the edge of the bed, to pull on your heels, while he tucked the sleeping bag he'd ended up using away out of sight. 

"Ready?" You asked, finishing up and grabbing your purse. 

"As I'll ever be." Harry opened the door for you, then locked it behind you both before passing you the key to tuck away in your purse. 

Even though the hotel had been booked by your cousin for all the out of town guests, you hadn't expected to do much pretending until the reception. While guests were mingling on their way to the ceremony, there wasn't much time to chat yet, so not much time for prying questions or close observations either. Harry, however, seemed prepared to delve straight into it. He took your hand in his almost immediately, giving you a quick glance to make sure it was okay, then walked with you to the elevator. It was a simple gesture, but it sent your heart racing. 

How the hell were you going to survive the day? 

~

You were starting to think you'd accidentally brought another Wells doppelganger to the wedding. A much more polite, charming doppelganger, because it had been two hours now and Harry had yet to reduce anyone to tears or be anything more than a little sardonic. 

"Who are you and what have you done to Harry Wells?" you whispered in his ear as you lined up outside the fancy hall to congratulate the newlyweds and take your seats for the reception meal. 

Harry chuckled. "I don't think your family would approve of your new 'boyfriend' if I was my usual self."

"Okay, fair. Still, it's weird. I wasn't aware you even knew how to be charming."

"You don't build a billion-dollar research company by not knowing how to occasionally butter people up."

"Well, thank you. It must be painful for you, and I appreciate it."

Harry smiled at you softly. It was the same one you'd only ever previously seen him use on Jesse. It did a funny little thing to your heart and nearly distracted you from the hand that came to rest low on your back as he guided you forward. 

"Annie! Congratulations!" You beamed, hugging your cousin and kissing her on the cheek. "You look beautiful!" 

"Thank you!" Both she and her new husband couldn't stop grinning, and you loved how happy they looked. 

"Uh, this is Harry, my boyfriend." The word sounded strange to say. 

"A pleasure. Congratulations," Harry smiled, shaking both their hands. 

"I could hardly believe it when Y/N told me she'd be bringing a plus one! You kept that one quiet!" 

Laughing nervously, you shrugged. "We wanted to keep it on the down-low for a bit."

"Wanted to keep him to yourself more like!" 

"That too."

"You know, you look kinda familiar, Harry, but I can't- oooh! I know! You look like that scientist Y/N used to crush on! What was his name again, Y/N?" 

Feeling the heat rapidly spread up your neck and across your cheeks, you looked at anywhere other than Harry. "I, uh, I can't remember now."

Annie gave you a knowing look, but Harry came to your rescue before any more embarrassment could be had. "We'll let you greet the rest of your guests. Congratulations, again."

"Thank you, Harry. Talk later."

Harry led you into the beautifully decorated hall, his hand still hovering on your back as you made your way to the table. You were the first ones there to take a seat, which meant you were unable to escape the look he gave you. 

"So, you used to have a crush on Harrison Wells?" He asked with an amused eyebrow raise. 

You groaned, wishing the ground would open up and swallow you whole. "In my defense that was years before I joined the Team and found out about the whole evil speedster thing. Don't mention it to anyone, please?" 

Harry looked at you a moment longer, then nodded. "It stays between us."

"Thank you."

Other guests began to arrive at your table, and the topic was dropped. 

~

The food was amazing and the company just as much, and with the distraction of other people to talk to, it was easier to ignore the constant butterflies in your stomach. 

After the meal and the speeches and the first dance, people began to mingle. You and Harry mostly stayed at your table, however, talking with your Great Aunt Margaret. The woman was in her nineties now, but she was just as sharp as ever, and probably one of the members of your family you were closest too. 

"Another drink, ladies?" Harry asked after a little while. 

"Gin and tonic for me, dear."

"Y/N?"

"Just an orange juice." As tempting as it was to just drown your feelings in alcohol, keeping a clear meant it was far less likely you'd make a fool of yourself by saying something you regretted. 

Harry nodded, standing from the table and heading over to the bar. 

"So, who’s he really?" Margaret asked as soon as Harry was out of earshot. 

"What do you mean? He's my boyfriend." Margaret fixed you with her infamous 'cut the bullshit' look. "He's a co-worker. A friend. I asked him so I wouldn't have to show up to another family function alone."

Margaret watched you thoughtfully. "That's what I thought. You've been too skittish around him for you to be together."

"Was it that obvious?" 

"Only to me, dear." She smiled and leaned across the table to you. "But you two need to talk."

"Why?" 

"Because it's clear he's more than just a friend to you, and he's hopelessly in love with you."

"Wh-what? No, he's not!" 

"Dear, I don't think I've ever seen a man more in love."

"I…" Looking away and down at your hands, you chewed your lip. "How do you know?" 

"The way he looks at you. It's plain to see."

"No, no, I'd have noticed if he'd been looking at me like that!" 

"We don't reveal our true feelings when the object of them is watching. We wait until we think they aren't looking. And the way that man looks at you when you aren't paying attention...it's like you hung the moon. I can tell you there aren't many people lucky enough to be on the receiving end of that kind of adoration."

"Oh." 

Margaret's smile was kind when you met her gaze again. "Talk to Harry, Y/N. You deserve to be happy, and I get the feeling he does too."

"He does. He's been through a lot." 

"Did I miss anything?" Harry returned carrying your drinks. 

"Just some girl talk. Thank you," Margaret said as he set the glasses down in front of you. "Why don't you two have a dance?" 

"Oh no, you know I'm not much of dancer-" 

"Nonsense! I went to enough of your dance rehearsals to know better!" 

"Aunt Margaret-" 

"All the other couples are up dancing! You don't want to be the odd duck, do you?" To anyone else, Margaret's happy grin seemed innocent enough. You knew better. "Go on! Off with you! I'll watch your drinks!" 

Before you could protest further, you were being poked out of your seat by her walking stick in your ribs. 

Harry followed suit before he too came under attack, and took your hand as you merged into the crowd already on the dance floor. 

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm the one who should be apologizing for this-" Harry pulled a few moves that could really only be described as 'dad dancing.'

Muffling a laugh with your hand, "That's…something," you giggled, swaying your own body in time with the music. 

"Told you."

"Maybe one day I'll teach you a few moves. Ready for when you have to do your Father/Daughter dance with Jesse."

Harry groaned, "Don't. Don't make me think about that."

Giggling again, it turned into a squeak of surprise when Harry suddenly grabbed your hand and twirled you around. 

"That's what happens when you tease," he grinned, hands landing on your hips to steady you. 

"Not the worst punishment I could think of."

"Oh, and what is?" 

"Wouldn't you like to know?" 

"Maybe."

Realizing you were suddenly on the border of flirting, you shrugged. "You know, the usual. The same stuff everyone else hates as punishment," you mumbled. 

"I see." It seemed like Harry was going to step back and let go of your hips when the song changed. A slow song. A slow, romantic song. Harry swallowed, Adam's apple bobbing, "We should...head back?" 

You were going to nod when you looked across the floor to spot Margaret. She motioned for you to move close together. "Or...we could stay. Unless you want to get whacked with a walking stick that is."

"No. No, I don't."

It was awkward for a moment, then Harry took you into hold, one hand staying on your hip while he took one of your own in the other, with your free arm finding it's way to his shoulder. 

He smiled. You returned it. Together you started to sway softly to the music. 

It was way too intimate. More intimate than you really had the capacity to deal with, especially after your earlier conversation with Margaret. So you did the only thing you could think of to not have to look Harry in the eye. You lay your head on his chest. 

For a split second, Harry's breath seemed to hitch, then it evened out again, though his hold on you tightened slightly, drawing you in until there was no space left between you. 

Okay so maybe this was actually way more intimate. But at least now, with your head tilted away from him, you didn't have to hide the sappy smile that spread across your face.

Yet your mind was still racing. Was Margaret right? She'd never been wrong before. But that would mean Harry actually loved you in return, and that...that was nearly enough to make your brain explode. 

You would have to tell him. He'd never say anything himself. But when? Now? Later? Tomorrow? Next week? That would be safest. If things went sour you wouldn't have to share a room or a car, and you could simply retreat to the safety of your apartment and eat away your feelings. Yet it felt like if you didn't say anything soon you'd implode. 

It was so hard to think when he was still swaying you like this and was he…he was resting his cheek on top of your head. He was relaxed. Enjoying it just as much as you were. 

The song came to an end, and Harry's grip loosened enough for you to take a step back. He didn't say a word. Just looked at you with that soft smile again. 

You had to say something. Now. Just say the words and tell him. It'd be fine. You just had to say three little words. 

"I...I'm really warm. I'm gonna go get some fresh air."

Coward. 

Turning before you could see his face drop, you wormed your way off the dance floor and made a beeline for the door, exiting out into the garden and the cool night air. 

"Stupid, stupid!" You muttered under your breath, pacing up and down the cobblestone path. How could you have chickened out like that? The opportunity was right there. And there was no way Harry would've bought the 'needing fresh air' excuse, which meant now you had to come up with something more believable or leave it feeling awkward. Why did you have to fuck it all up? 

"Y/N?" Harry's voice from behind you nearly startled you out of your skin. Spinning around, you saw him approach, illuminated by garden lights that lined the path. "Are you alright?" 

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine."

"If I did something-" 

"No! You didn't do anything. You've been amazing all day, Harry."

Nodding, Harry came to a stop in front of you. "You ran out so quickly, I thought...maybe…"

"It's not you, I just...I had to get out before I did something potentially very stupid. We both know how much you hate stupid."

"The last thing you could ever be is stupid."

"Says the man with seven PhDs. Pretty much everyone is stupid to you."

"Never you."

The way he was looking at you...it made you want to turn and run. There were too many emotions in his eyes, and it almost made you hate the hope that bubbled up in your chest. 

Harry was the first to move, running a hand through his hair as he turned away. "Ramon...he said this would happen. I thought...I told him not to be ridiculous. Now here I am…he'll never let me live it down."

"What did he say would happen?" You asked, voice barely above a whisper. 

Taking a breath, Harry faced you. "He said I'd end up...saying how I love you."

The world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you, the din from the party could no longer be heard, the garden disappeared, only you and Harry and the thumping of your heart remained. "You love me?" 

"How could I not? You're...special. I'm not an easy person to get on with. I know I'm an annoying, cantankerous dick, and while I can act the charmer, when I'm just being…me, I can't, I don't...I don't always find it easy being around people. Except you. From the start being around you was easy. You know when to call me out or when to let me rant, and always you're kind. You're smart and brave and beautiful and I love you."

You stood in shock, simply staring at him. You'd never expected him to say anything let alone make a confession like that. 

Harry cleared his throat, "Of course I value your friendship above anything else. Say the word and I'll never mention it-" 

"I love you too. I wanted to say it in there, after our dance, but I couldn't…I was too scared it wouldn't be reciprocated." 

For a breath, Harry hesitated, then he took your face in his hands, fingers curling around the back of your neck and pulled you into a kiss. Your response was immediate, kissing him back as fiercely as he kissed you, your own hands clutching at his arms. It was everything you'd ever imagined and then some. 

Breaking the kiss Harry stayed where he was, holding you as if he were scared you'd slip away if he let go. 

"Wow," you whispered, leaning your forehead against his. 

"I should've said something sooner."

"I should've too, but it doesn't matter now."

"No, it doesn't."

Unable to stop the giggling like a schoolgirl, you kissed him again. "Just so you know I'm going to want a lot of these kisses." 

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

"I love you, Harrison Wells."

"I love you too."

Best wedding ever. 

Like what you read? Consider buying me a coffee! I’ll love you forever!

Tagging: @pinkdiamond1016​

[omgkatsudonplease]

[ficlet, bagginshield] feeling exceptional (bridgerton au)

The Great Smials Assembly is in Tuckborough, which means for Bilbo that it’s little more than a glorified family reunion. All of his various aunts and uncles push and pull at him when he arrives, wishing him good luck in his courtship with the King of Erebor. Gandalf, staying at the Great Smials on an invitation from Thain Fortinbras II, looks especially insufferable every time someone hopes to be invited to the Royal wedding. 

“He hasn’t proposed yet,” Bilbo grumbles whenever it does.

“But surely he’s on the very verge of it!” gasps Aunt Donnamira, clutching at her chest. “Gandalf says he’s never seen two creatures on Eru’s green Arda look at each other with such devotion. If he doesn’t marry you, he’s a fool!”

Well, then, we are both fools, Bilbo does not say. King Thorin is a fool for letting such a fanciful Hobbit pretend to be his, and he is a fool for squandering this opportunity not to look for his true love.

Still, something strange burns at him, deep inside. He’s felt it all this while, over all of these weeks of lies and pretences slowly becoming wishes and truths. Thorin is nothing like the brusque Dwarf-king he had first met at the Party Field Dance, nothing like the cold statue barely making conversation with him at Gandalf’s surprise dinner. Bilbo has seen through the outermost layers of him —rather literally at one point, during the Brandywine River Promenade — and he has to admit, he likes what he sees.

And liking what he sees is the last thing he needs, because they had agreed to avoid just that. They had agreed not to fall in love. 

“Bilbo!” He is jerked out of his thoughts by a familiar cheerful voice. His cousin Primula comes barreling at him with ungraceful fervour, pulling up short just as he braces himself for impact. He finds himself curtsied to first before being squished into one of her overenthusiastic hugs. Clearly the etiquette lessons were not taking root with her at all. “Bilbo, Bilbo, you’re here! And I’m here! I had to go to Fornost earlier in the month so I missed the Promenade but I’m here! And I got permission to attend this ball! And Mama is going to lower my hems soon so I can debut in a year or two!”

“Prim! Calm down!” exclaims Bilbo. The young Hobbit-lass bounces in reply, the ribbons in her hair shining with each toss of her thick, dark curls. “What was that about a trip to Fornost?” 

“Mama and Papa took us to Fornost for the spas,” says Primula happily, holding him out at arm’s length to examine him more closely. “Now I’ve missed all the excitement. I heard you’re going to be a Dwarf Consort!”

“I’m not going to be a Dwarf Consort,” scoffs Bilbo, before quickly catching himself and tacking on a hasty, “yet. He hasn’t asked me to marry him.”

“Oh, but I hope he does,” gushes Primula. “It would be so romantic!”

“You’re taking cues from Auntie Donnamira, I see,” says Bilbo, spinning her around in circles. “Are you sure you can behave yourself tonight?”

“It’s just dancing,” scoffs Primula. “I promise not to tread on Cousin Sigismond’s feet again. I promise.”

Bilbo snorts. “All right, Prim. And what’s this about your mother letting you debut soon? Aren’t you still in your tweens?”

“Yeah, but all of my sisters are gone and married,” replies Primula, pouting. “And if I enter society, I get to go to all the parties with you! It’s been no fun being cooped up in Brandy Hall being told to go to bed just before the party guests arrive, you know.”

Bilbo remembers a ball at Brandy Hall during one of his earlier seasons, catching Primula in her nightgown by the doorway into the ballroom. He’d taken her out into the gardens and told her stories until she got drowsy. She’s grown up faster than his beansprouts since then, her childhood roundness briefly interrupted by tweenhood gangliness. And now here she is in a lengthened evening-gown, her eyes bright and ribbons woven into her cloud of dark hair. 

Bilbo feels immeasurably old beside her. With any luck, she’ll be declared the rose of the season the year she is presented to the Queen of Arnor, and, just like her sisters, she’ll be swept off her feet by some strapping Hobbit-lad and sent off to her happily ever after. 

And Bilbo will remain here, forever picky, forever searching. Possibly even lamenting the events of this year, and what could have been.

The refreshments are laid out, the band is arrayed to the side, and the first couples begin to form a line for the first dance of the night. Bilbo looks at Primula fiddling excitedly with her dance card, and gestures to it with a grin.

“Do you mind so terribly if your favourite cousin had your first dance?” he asks.

“Bold of you to assume you’re my favourite cousin,” replies Primula, but she’s smiling nonetheless, extending her wrist out to him. He signs for the first dance, before taking her out to join the other dancers lining up on the floor. 

The first dance is a reel in which the leading couple weaves their way through groups of three couples at a time. This means that Bilbo and Primula have a great deal of time standing still, waiting for their turn, and so Primula breaks the silence again with a devious grin. 

“I heard Mr Gladden has finally left town,” she says. “Something about his grandmother’s failing health. He’s gone back to the Greenwood.”

Bilbo exhales. “Good for him,” he says. “I feel terrible for saying that, but I don’t think I will miss him one bit.”

“I’ve never met him, but lots of people said it was about time,” agrees Primula. “He must have been quite the stinker.”

“I would be the last person in Arda to judge someone for being odd,” muses Bilbo, “but besides being odd he was rude. No sense of boundaries.”

“If only other people would get the hint.” Primula tosses her head towards Miss Bracegirdle, who had just joined the line with Otho Sackville-Baggins. Bilbo scoffs.

“For someone who isn’t in society yet, you certainly know a lot about the people hounding me,” he remarks. 

“Just because I’m not in society doesn’t mean I can’t read Lord Stormcrow,” replies Primula with a sly grin. “He’s had a lot to say about you two. Because of him, there’s now a betting pool between the Master, the Thain, and the Mayor for when King Thorin will propose!”

Bilbo feels like he’s been doused in cold water. “What a bunch of nosy busybodies,” he declares, just as the lead couple gets to them and they start to link arms and circle with them. 

“Well, of all the Dwarves of Arda, I suppose a Dwarf-king isn’t a bad choice for the head of the Baggins family,” muses Primula once they meet up again and the lead couple has moved on down the line. “I never liked the Bracegirdle option, if you cared to know my thoughts on it. I mean, it is the respectable choice, but she’s clearly more interested in being Mistress of Bag End than your wife.”

Bilbo chuckles. “Whatever happened to little Prim?” he wonders. “The one who crashed the Brandybuck Ball in her nightgown and listened to my stories of butterflies and dumbledoors in the garden until she fell asleep?”

“Well, it’s because of your stories that I know you wouldn’t marry someone unless they made you perfectly and incandescently happy,” Primula points out. 

“You make me perfectly and incandescently happy, too, and I have no plans to marry you,” Bilbo replies.

“That’s because you’re ancient Cousin Bilbo,” says Primula matter-of-factly, “and all I want for ancient Cousin Bilbo is someone who will make him smile his happy smile, not his brave one.” 

Bilbo wants to chalk everything she’s saying up to simple tweenhood twitterpated nonsense, but the words fly out of his head the moment he catches a glimpse of familiar blue. The music hushes into an awed murmur, as dancers and other guests alike stop and turn to see Thorin’s arrival at the Assembly. Bilbo dimly feels Primula dropping his hands as she turns to see the Dwarf-king, her small gasp of delight echoing deep in his heart. 

The first time Bilbo had read the Lay of Leithian, he had been struck by the verses depicting the meeting of Beren Erchamion and Lúthien Tinúviel. Deep within the woods of Doriath, the fateful meeting of those two had been a dance, a chase, a cry, a capitulation. As Bilbo read, he had wondered, dimly, if one day he would ever experience a captivation so thorough as what Beren had felt when he first watched Lúthien dancing in the forest grove.

Now, as he sees Thorin enter in his dark-blue tailcoat and white cravat, with the beads of the line of Durin shining starlike in his hair, Bilbo understands. 

The reel quickly finishes after that, allowing Bilbo to turn to Primula. “I could make an introduction,” he offers.

Primula opens her mouth to accept, before catching sight of someone else in the crowd. “Oh, your cousin Drogo wants to see me,” she says, winking mischievously at him. “Some other time? Maybe when you two have come to an understanding?” 

And with that, she scampers off into the crowd, leaving Bilbo alone in confronting the Dwarf-king he’s not actually supposed to be courting. Clearing his throat and taking a deep breath, Bilbo steps forward and pushes through the crowd of girls clamouring for Thorin to sign their dance cards. 

“There you are.” Thorin’s wintry expression thaws the moment he sees Bilbo. “Have you come to rescue me?” 

“Am I your excuse not to dance?” wonders Bilbo drily as he reaches Thorin’s side, forcibly squashing down the fluttering in his stomach. “I thought the goal of this was to improve your manners, not give you an out.”

“No, it was to improve my image,” replies Thorin, “and as you can see  —” He gestures to the gaggle of Hobbit-lasses arguing with one another nearby, “it worked.”

Bilbo huffs in amusement. “Apparently it worked too well. There are wagers set up about when you’ll propose.” 

Thorin raises an eyebrow at that, but does not say anything one way or the other. “Which two dances shall we have tonight?” he asks. 

Every dance, Bilbo wants to say, but even a third dance might as well be a proposal in and of itself as far as the Shire is concerned. Instead, when the next Hobbit-lass comes up to the two of them for a dance, he merely checks her card and politely declines a spot, before turning to watch Thorin do the same. 

“The Petty-skirt,” he suggests, “and the Springle-ring.” 

Thorin’s eyes crinkle amusedly at him. “Promise you will not run from the Springle-ring?” he teases.

Bilbo chuckles. “I would never,” he replies, just as the music for the first figure of the Petty-skirt begins to play. “Come on,” he says, offering his hand to Thorin. “Let’s dance.”

And for the rest of that night, he takes no other partner. Lord Stormcrow will note upon it, of course, crowing in his next pamphlet that surely an understanding is on the horizon for the two of them. 

In the meantime, Bilbo dances the night away in Thorin’s arms, and his mind is full of nothing but nightingales and the exquisite pain of being perfectly, incandescently happy. 

[bexo-tic]

Breath Play - Spencer Reid X Reader

Spencer Reid X Reader Slow Burn

Season 10 Episode 17

Word Count: 3234

 The sound of heels clicking overwhelms my senses. I can’t believe I’m here, in the BAU office. Sure, I’ve been here plenty of times during my childhood to visit my uncle, but this time I came to work. My heartbeat slows as I take in the familiar smell of coffee brewing. It’s almost nostalgic, reminding me of the times I’d surprise Uncle Aaron with a visit. My heart aches a little as I think of Aunt Haley, but I push the thoughts from my mind. This is my first day and I need everything to be perfect. 

“Y/N,” he smiles warmly as I peek my head into his office. I hadn’t seen Aaron since I left for college, I was too busy working on my degrees. We still called once a week, and that is why it didn’t feel forced or awkward to slide into conversation with him after 8 years.

“Well, everyone is at the table because we have a new case, I can introduce you there.” He leads me out of his office and into a small room filled with only a round table and a screen where the team waits. Their presence makes me nervous. They have all this experience with their job and probably only remember me as Aaron’s little niece if they remember me at all. 

“Team, we have a new intern, Y/N Y/L/N. She’s my niece on Haley’s side.” He clears his throat after mentioning her and I can tell he isn’t as over it as everyone would assume. “This is Derek Morgan, Kate Calahan, Jennifer Jereau, David Rossi, and Spencer Reid. And our Tech Analyst Penelope Garcia.”

“Save the pleasantries, Aaron. She knows me,” David says as he gets up to hug me. The smell of his cologne fills my lungs, but not in an overbearing way. He cups my face in his hands. “You’re all grown up; it’s hard to believe.”

“I don’t think I believe it yet either,” I laugh as I sit down and he goes back to his seat. 

“I hate to interrupt the joy, but we need to get to Wisconsin, also known as the lovely badger state, home of milk and cheese,” Penelope says. She goes into explaining the case and how the bodies of 3 women had been discovered as late as this morning. I tense my body to keep from shivering at the sight of their photos. 

That might be the part that always gets to me, seeing the photos of the victims happy and smiling. I can’t imagine their faces once they realized what was going to happen to them. I watch as they discuss the case, their energy, and ideas building off each other. It happens so smoothly and effortlessly like they aren’t talking about murders. But to them this is normal, maybe they’re a little desensitized to it. 

“Whether he knows the victims or not, he’s hit his stride and he’s not gonna take time to cool off. Wheels up in 30,” Aaron says, distracting me from my thoughts. I grab the “go bag” I left in my uncle’s office which is better described as a suitcase on the edge of exploding. It was my first trip and I didn’t know how long we’d stay so I panic-packed what was probably too much clothing. As I leave the office I bump into something hard. I look up and see Derek.

“Oh my- I’m so sorry. I didn’t even look and-” He holds up a hand to stop my rambling.

“It’s fine, it takes more than a suitcase to knock me down,” he says with a smile. I let out a relieved sigh and he continued talking.

“Rossi says you’re fresh out of college. What degrees do you have?”

“I have a Ph.D. in Psychology and a Masters in Criminal Justice.”

“And you’re how old?”

“26, I just took a lot of summer classes,” I shrug.

“Sounds a little like Reid,” he laughs. “Real smart guy, been here since he was 24. He graduated high school at 12.” I feel my jaw open and quickly try to close it. 

“That’s um- wow.” 

“Insane, I know. Let me help you get to the jet.”

“Yeah, thanks. I was going to ask my uncle where to go.”

“So is having Hotch as an uncle the same as having him as a boss?”

“Mm, I’d say yeah. He’s pretty reserved, but once you’ve known him long enough you can read him like a book. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk to you, it’s more like he’s too busy thinking to remember to talk to you.”

“Sounds about right,” he chuckles. “Set your bag here and just through that door is the jet.”

“Oh, thanks again for showing me.”

“No problem, Y/N.” He walked onto the plane. It felt strange hearing him call me by my first name when everyone else was referred to by their last name. But maybe I was reading too much into it. It was my first day and we couldn’t have made a bond as he had with everyone else in the 5-minute walk to the jet. I took a deep breath to calm my thoughts and walked through the door.

Already they were discussing the case again. Hearing them bounce ideas off each other and analyze was almost comforting if you forgot they were talking about a murderer. Their dynamic was so in tune like they all held the same vibration. Part of me didn’t want to speak and mess up the flow of the conversation. 

“Alright Dave and Reid, go to the Medical Examiner with Em. Morgan and Kate go to the newest crime scene. JJ and I will interview friends and family at the station,” Aaron announced. My fingertips began to tingle with anticipation. This is happening! A part of me was excited to be here. I’d always admired my uncle when I was younger for putting away the bad guys and here I was beside him. Butterflies fluttered in my stomach and I tried desperately to calm down. It was my first case and I was determined not to mess this up. I didn’t want Aaron thinking I couldn’t handle this and sending me home, so I was determined to keep a calm demeanor. 

<<< >>>

“Cartilage around the windpipe was damaged, but the COD was actually a crushed trachea,” the examiner says as he leads us to the victims’ bodies. 

“I’m surprised Emma didn’t go into cardiac arrest before then,” Spencer says, looking back at me and David. I nod in agreement because I don’t have anything to counter with. I question why Aaron even sent me with them to the M.E. when I don’t have enough experience to be much help here.

“Nobody has sex for 6 straight hours, not even sting,” David says, pulling my attention back to the report. That’s where it should be. “Maybe he’s interacting with them beforehand.”

“Nonetheless, it’s an endurance test. He’d have to be in pretty great physical shape,” Spencer says. I try to form my own ideas as they talk, to just bring something to the table and not feel like I’m useless and watching from the sidelines. 

“Well, do you think strangulation is just the dispatching method, then?” David asks.

“Erotic asphyxiation,” I call from behind them. They both turn to look at me and I feel my heart move up my throat. “I mean, the bruising from repeated strangling and releasing is similar to that.”

“If that’s the case, isn't the pleasure usually all for the recipient?”

“Maybe not for him,” Spencer answers. “Cutting off his victim’s air supply might be how he satisfies his own urges.” 

I sigh, I might have just contributed something. I don't want them to think I can’t do anything to help. My eyes wander to the other victims. She has the same bruising as the other victim except her hair is blonde, Donna Rayburn. She almost looks like me, but her eyes are blue, not the dark brown I got from my dad. Noticing all our similarities makes me itch and I feel exposed. I jump when a hand touches my back.

“Hey, we’re heading back to discuss everything with the team,” David says. “Are you alright?”

I can feel Spencer’s eyes burning into me from behind, he’s not very good at acting like he isn’t listening to our conversation. I can’t help but wonder if he thinks I’m even qualified to be here; his intelligence is a little intimidating. He could probably profile circles around me.

“I’m fine, just nervous. First day jitters,” I smile in what I hope is a convincing way. David leads me to the car and I sit in the back on the way to the station. Looking out the window keeps me distracted and I let my mind wander. I wonder how the people who live here feel about the news. Everyone says “It could never happen here”, but somehow it always does.

“Six hours is a long time, especially late at night, for someone to be held and no one to hear anything,” Aaron says as David, Spencer and I make it to the table. Again they delved into a conversation trying to connect the victims. So far, the only thing they had in common was their interactions with the unsub. After what seemed like hours of discussion, I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and got up to find coffee. 

I found my way to a small kitchen with two coffee pots in it. I grabbed a guest mug and poured in the steaming liquid, leaving enough room for the cream and sugar packets on the counter. A voice behind me makes me jump.

“Did you know Hawaii is the only state in the U.S. that grows coffee?” I turn and find Spencer standing there with his thermos in his hands.

“Um no?”

“Yeah, the ideal coffee growing conditions require high altitudes, rich soil, and tropical climates.”

“Do you start every conversation off with facts?” I ask with a laugh.

“Mostly,” he smiles. “Oh, and I wouldn’t drink that coffee if I were you. Hotch just said we’re heading back to the hotel and regrouping in the morning.” 

I checked the time on my phone, 11:33 PM. No wonder I was so tired, with the jet ride and busy day we had. The ride to the hotel felt like it lasted a few minutes, so I must have dozed off in the car. Aaron handed me the key to my room which I shared with JJ. I barely had time to shower before I fell asleep in the white sheets of the bed.

<<< >>>

I couldn’t believe the unsub killed again last night. I knew he would kill again, but it didn’t feel right that I hadn’t noticed. How did we all fall asleep so easily when the murderer we were trying to find had claimed a new victim? And here I was walking around Lynn Boyd’s house as everyone scurried around for evidence. I find my way into her bedroom.

“The bindings, the silk scarf, the rough sex. He’s using ‘Bare Reflections’ to choose his victims,” Rossi says. Finally, another step forward. Last night we concluded the unsub would be a married man, but it didn’t give us much to go off of. A call to Garcia would help us understand more.

‘If this book is mainstream, then his victim pool is large.”

“Garica, did any of the other victims besides Lynn own a copy?” JJ asks.

“Mary Healy had it on her tablet. Donna Rayburn checked it out from the library twice. Emma and Lynn both purchased copies locally.”

Although the book tied our victims together, who even knew how many other married women in the comfort zone owned the book as well. The list of possible targets would be too long to help us tie it back to the unsub.

“And- hey, a lot of the saucy texts are direct quotes from the book,” Garcia says. “Oh! Speaking of texts, I culled them from that he met Mary via message board, Donna at a coffee shop, Emma at the gym, and Lynn, he met Lynn using a fake profile on a discreet dating website for married people.”

“Thanks, Garcia,” Rossi said, ending the call.

“Profile?” JJ asked. He nodded in response. The ride back to the station passed in a blink. Maybe it was the satisfaction I was feeling. My fingertips tingled because we were so close to finally catching this guy.

“Based on area demographics, we believe that we’re looking for a physically fit white male in his mid-30s to early 40s,” Aaron starts.

“He’s a homicidal dominant with an interest in role-play,” Callahan continues. They build off each other so smoothly, and the rest of the team keeps it going.

“We believe his charisma has allowed him to latch onto women who are interested in a popular erotic romance novel called ‘Bare Reflections’.”

“In it, a sheltered female teacher falls for a handsome mogul with a dark past who forces her into a submissive role.”

“Despite her initial worries, Amber Stone finds she can’t live without Carson Bare, warts and all.”

“We believe the unsub and his victims are consensually recreating a scenario from this book.”

“In that scene, Carson introduces Amber to BDSM by binding her to a bed as they have rough sex.”

“The unsub uses this role play to get his victims into a vulnerable position before his fantasy takes hold.”

”This has provided the unsub with a victim pool who have dropped their guard.” 

“His first victims were single, but his last two were married. This escalation indicates that he may be married himself and probably has a family.”

“This unsubs M.O. takes patience and caution, and is firmly rooted in a need-based desire, which means he won’t be stopping anytime soon. Thank you.” Aaron says, ending the profile presentation. I look back at the crime scene photos trying to piece together the puzzle. I notice Reid quickly skimming through the pages of “Bare Reflections”. 

“Are you even reading it?” I ask.

“I can read 20,000 words per minute, so yes.” He doesn't even have to look up when he responds.

“Robot,” I say under my breath as I roll my eyes, but from his smirk, I can tell he heard me.

“There’s not a single mention of erotic asphyxiation anywhere,” he says as Rossi and a detective approach us.

“It’s the unsub’s fetish then.” Rossi’s brows furrow. 

“He’s a charmer that knows that some people lose themselves in the moment and others stop at nothing to please their partners,” my thoughts come out loud as I walk towards them. “Somehow he makes his victims feel safe enough to abandon their hard limit.”

“What’s a hard limit?” the detective asks.

“It’s a common BDSM practice. Hard limits are anything that’s an automatic no-go. It differs by person and taste,” Rossi states.

“And a soft limit is an in which a submissive hesitates or places strict conditions on,” Reid pipes up.

“I had no idea that world had so many regulations. Where does he find somebody like-minded?”

“In “Bare Reflections”, Carson Bare takes Amber to an event called a munch.”

“Which is?”

“According to the book, it’s a social gathering for people interested in BDSM.”

“Where the heck do you find that?”

“We should call Garcia.” Reid nods at Rossi.

“I found one,” he says, showing his simple google search. While Rossi and Callahan go to the munch, the rest of us stay behind to go over the case files.

<<< >>>

“He knew crossing state lines would make it more difficult to link the crimes,” Aaron says about the three prostitute murders Garcia has just brought up. 

“That’s a very different cooling-off period. I wonder what was so special about those dates,” Detective Pierce questions. Reid grabs an expo marker and turns to the nearest board.

“First kills were in 2000, 2007, and then he went dormant until last year. What triggers him?” He writes all the dates on the board.

“Deaths in the family,” Aaron asks.

“He could keep losing jobs?”

“These are sex crimes so what interferes with sex drive? Children,” Callahan offers. “The addition of a child would disrupt even the happiest of couples.”

“More specifically the births,” Reid nods and you can see the gears in his head turning. “What if each of these kills corresponds to the births of the unsub’s own children?”

“Garcia, how many men in the hunting zone had a child in 2000?”

“16 and because I already know what the follow-up question is going to be, 5 had their second child 8 years ago, and two had their third last year.”

“Were either one of them busted for something like peeping or exposure?” I ask.

“Yes and no, there's a Patrick Jon Murphy. He’s a physical therapist, here’s the thing he was never actually arrested. I do have some sealed family court docs, though, that I’m about to unseal and learn … Oh, when he was 12, he witnessed his neighbor strangle his wife to death in a sex game gone bad.”

“Even though he was only a witness, that moment created a single event imprint on his love map and probably started his interest in breath play.”

“Is his wife interested in BDSM?”

“Uh, no, doesn’t look like it. The Murphy’s have been in and out of couple’s therapy for years.”

“The therapy roller coaster may have been due to intermittent periods of frustration then bliss surrounding the murders.”

“And his urges increase during periods of non-intimacy.”

“If the unsub’s trigger was the birth of his kids, why change the victimology and accelerate the kills now?” I ask.

“I think the guilt he’s felt has been alleviated by ‘Bare Reflections’, and the intense female interest in it has justified his impulses,” Reid answers. Our phones beep as Garcia sends us his address and we race out the door. His house isn’t even that far from the station, it’s crazy that he’s been under our noses the whole time. JJ and Reid come out of the house looking defeated.

“He’s at the nanny’s house, we’ve gotta move!” We don't even have time to buckle up before we're barreling down the road. When we arrive at the house I can see a girl standing at the front door. 

"You two take the front of the house, I'm going around back," Morgan declares. I can see him run after the unsub on foot as Callahan grabs the girl inside the house. That must be his daughter. The rest of us storm inside, clearing each room as we make our way through the house. Calls from upstairs lead us into the bedroom where we find a woman tied to her bed. Immediately we untie her as a medic comes in to check her out.

<<<   >>>

“So, how was your first case?” Aaron asks as he sits across from me on the jet.

“Um, intense,” I nod and he laughs. “But I really enjoyed helping solve it.”

“I knew you had it in you.” He squeezes my hand. “Want some coffee?”

“No thanks, I’m gonna try to sleep before we land.” I curl into my chair and try to let the tension release from my body as I fall asleep.

[curiosi-tea-writes]

Coffee

Pairing: Din Djarin / Cobb Vanth

Setting: Modern AU

Summary: Most of Din and Cobb’s date nights consist of them going out to dinner, a museum, or possibly a movie. But Din comes home one date night to the extreme scent of coffee filling the house. It’s decided that sometimes they can stay in and do something different for a change.

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

The smell of coffee hit Din the second he opened the door. He had just gotten back from dropping Grogu off at Peli’s for the night, excited for his and Cobb’s one night off a month to relax and focus on each other while Grogu gets absolutely spoiled by his aunt.

He entered the kitchen and stopped in the doorway. Spread out on the counter was every type of coffee they owned, each open, Cobb scooping coffee grinds out from one of the bags. 

“What are you doing?” was all Din could manage to get out. 

Cobb’s gaze snapped up with a large smile. “I’m combining all of our coffees together to make one franken-coffee.” He was far too excited about this idea and Din could scoffed out a laugh and shook his head. “I had texted you saying I was going to do it,” Cobb defended, turning back to the ludicrous amount of coffee before him.

Din pulled out his phone and checked his messages for the first time in hours. Sure enough, Cobb had sent him a link to a YouTube video of someone combining all of her teas together with the message, ‘This but with all of our coffees?’ Din chuckled and put his phone away again. He walked up behind Cobb and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Is this how we’re spending our night off?” He rested his chin on Cobb’s shoulder. 

The spoon in Cobb’s hand fell back into the bag of coffee. He turned as best he could without forcing himself fully out of Din’s embrace. “It’s our night off,” he sighed. He had completely forgotten what day it was. In a split second he was already beginning to close up the bags of coffee. “I’ll just clean up and we can go out and do something I just-”

“Hey,” Din spoke softly, pulling Cobb back towards him. He placed his hand gently over Cobb’s and moved them away from the bags. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way, I was just asking. We don’t have to go out, we can,” Din glanced over at the bags on the counter and gave a laugh, not believing the words he was about to speak, “make a franken-coffee.”

Cobb’s heart skipped as Din spoke, the way it always did when he remembered just how much Din loves him. He threw his arms around Din’s neck like a little kid and laughed. He pressed his cold nose to Din’s neck, smiling at the warmth. “Have I mentioned recently how much I love you?” he whispered.

Din hummed and tightened his hold on Cobb. “Every single day,” he chuckled, “but I never mind hearing it again.” 

With a roll of his eyes, Cobb stepped away and turned back towards the counter. “Are you going to try this with me?” 

“Do I have a choice?” Din asked as he picked up a chocolate coffee bag and brought it up to his nose. He hadn’t seen half of these coffees in months because they just keep buying more. The chocolate one had always been Din’s favorite though. He let his eyes fall closed as he breathed in the scent and smiled. He opened them to see Cobb’s face bright and happy and it made Din’s heart squeeze and all he could do was stare.

Cobb lifted his gaze to ask Din a question but the words died on his lips. If it were possible for a person to have literal heart eyes, that’s how he’d say Din was looking at him in that moment. It gave him butterflies in his stomach just as it had the first time he caught Din staring like that. “What?” he mumbled, suddenly extremely self conscious. 

“Nothing,” Din whispered back, a soft smile playing on his lips. “You just look so perfect when you’re happy.”

Cobb was grateful that he hadn’t had a spoonful of coffee in his hand at that moment because he likely would have dropped it. He both hated and loved that Din could make him weak-kneed so easily. He shook his head and tried to brush off the heat in his face with a chuckle, turning back to his project. 

Din closed the distance between them again and wrapped his arms around him from behind as he had earlier. “I take immense pride in knowing that after three years of a relationship, I still manage to make you blush.” His words were warm against Cobb’s ear, causing chills to run down Cobb’s spine. 

“Who said you make me blush?” Cobb attempted to defend. “Maybe it’s just warm in here.”

Din tightened his arms and laughed. “Right, I’m sure.” He let go quickly and stepped away. His smile widened as he watched Cobb lean back, chasing the embrace. “Alright,” he spoke clearly, breaking their soft moment. “How many coffees do you have left?” 

Cobb barely contained the near growl bubbling in his chest as he felt the warmth of Din’s body part from his. He cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. He gestured to four bags separated from the others’. “Just these four,” he managed to get out before having to attempt to clear his throat again. 

With a smirk, Din reached around Cobb and took the spoon out of his hand. He scooped coffee from one of the bags and put it into the strainer. He moved that bag aside with the others that had been done and reached for another. 

“Thank you,” Cobb said softly, leaning his arms on the counter. 

Din looked up and furrowed his brows. “For what?” There was a hint of a laugh in his words that made Cobb believe he didn’t actually know.

“Everything,” he sighed. “Agreeing to stay in tonight so I could do this, helping me do it.” His smile grew brighter with each word, willing the adoration he felt to show through. “Loving me unconditionally.” 

Din set the spoon back down and crossed the distance again. His hand was cold on the back of Cobb’s neck as he pulled him in for a gentle kiss. They parted, their lips ghosting against each others. “I just like to see you happy,” he whispered against Cobb’s lips. 

“You make me happy,” Cobb replied, closing the small distance to connect their lips again. 

Din smiled into the kiss, basking in the pure bliss of the moment. He adored Cobb so much and lived for these soft moments between them. When Cobb pulled away, he chased his lips for a moment before straightening his shoulders again. 

Cobb turned excitedly and finished preparing the coffee. Din leaned against the counter and watched with a light smile and bright eyes as Cobb waited very impatiently for the pot to be done. 

“You do realize how much caffeine you just put into one cup of coffee, right?” Din laughed as Cobb poured the extremely dark coffee into a large mug. 

“I couldn’t care less,” Cobb admitted with a smile as he held the mug out to Din. Their hands brushed as Din took the mug and Cobb wished he could convince his heart not to flutter every time they did as if it was the first. He watched with an anxious gaze as Din brought the mug to his lips and took the smallest sip. His expression changed to one of pure joy as Din’s nose scrunched up. “No good?”

“It’s uhm....” Din paused and took another sip, his reaction not as dramatic this time. “It’s not horrible.” He took another sip. “It’s growing on me. It’s extremely bitter.” He went to take another sip but Cobb’s hands on the mug stopped him. 

“Okay, okay,” Cobb laughed. “Don’t drink all my coffee.” He took the mug out of his hands and brought it up to his nose to breathe in the scent before taking his own sip.

Din scoffed. “There’s a whole pot of it,” he defended, prompting Cobb to nearly choke on the drink. “What’re you going to do? Drink the whole pot?”

“Perhaps,” Cobb mumbled into the mug. 

“You are so chaotic.” Din shook his head and moved around Cobb to the cupboard. He found himself a smaller mug and poured some coffee in it for himself.

Cobb leaned against the counter and smiled brightly as Din took a sip from his own mug. “It’s why you love me.”

“One of the reasons, yeah,” Din admitted. 

They took a quiet moment, just admiring one another. Standing a handful of feet apart in their small kitchen, warm mugs of strange coffee in their hands, both minds filled with, “Goodness he’s perfect.” Both could feel the warmth of their drinks fill their bodies with every sip; so much so they were unsure where the warmth of the drink stopped and where the warmth from the love began. Neither truly cared, though. To them, they were one in the same. 

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

Hours later, Din’s brain continued to spin from the one cup of coffee he had. He knew full well that having a cup so late in the day would result in very little sleep but he couldn’t complain. 

Despite having three cups, Cobb had promptly crashed halfway through their movie. He laid spread across the sofa, his head in Din’s lap. Din mindlessly let his fingers run gently through his hair, lulling Cobb to sleep as the movie played on. It wasn’t until the end credits began to roll that Din noticed his position and that there was little chance of them making it to the bedroom that night. 

Din shifted slightly to turn off the tv. Letting his head fall back against the sofa, he stared up at the ceiling in the now dark living room. He couldn’t think of a more perfect way to end their evening off. Maybe it wasn’t the same as their other evenings, but it was perfect. They didn’t need to have a fancy dinner or find a museum to go to. Sometimes the best date nights were ones where they stayed home and Cobb made an insane amount of coffee. 

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

Din tiptoed quietly out of the living room after slipping out from underneath Cobb once the sun began to shine through the window. He tried not to make too much noise as he began preparing pancakes for him and Cobb. That is, until he was moving a pan out of the way and promptly dropped it with an echoing crash. He winced, scrunching up his nose as he heard Cobb make his way to the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Din laughed half-heartedly. Cobb gave his own weak laugh before groaning and rubbing his eyes. “How do you feel?” he asked, picking up the pan.

“Like I have a hangover without any of the fun of drinking,” Cobb grunted.

Din smirked, already trying not to laugh at his next comment. “Would you like some coffee?”

Cobb grabbed a towel off of the counter and threw it at him with a laugh. Din doubled over laughing. He loved making Cobb bitter sometimes and Cobb had to admit that he enjoyed it too. Cobb shook his head and rolled his eyes, finally letting himself laugh along. “I don’t think I will be drinking coffee for a long while.”

“That is a blatant lie and you know it,” Din laughed, turning back to the food.

“Yeah, you’re right,” he admitted with a nod. “I will not be recreating that creation again though.”

Din turned and jokingly glared at him over his shoulder. “Yes you will.”

“Yeah, I probably will.” 

[stargazing-enby]

is it crazy to ask for a lil fic of some sort for the soulmate 'saviour' thing?

Not at all! Also, I think it’s funny how I recently said I probably wouldn’t answer any prompts anytime soon, but as soon as you sent this ask I was frantically typing this story on my phone, LOL. Hope you enjoy!

Based on this textpost

Drarry | 2.3k | Teen and up | Soulmate AU, Nicknames, Drunken Confessions, Sectumsempra Scars, Cuddles, Happy Ending | Read on AO3

The Dursleys never acknowledged it; never explained. It was just one more tally on a list of things that made him weird. That made him wrong.

Harry liked to stare down at it while he showered and imagine a thousand different reasons the word Saviour was tattooed on his chest, the ink a deep black that faded into gold around the sharp edges of the letters. He imagined himself flying like Superman did in the comics they kept on the highest shelf of the school library—imagined himself stopping comets from crashing against the planet with his bare hands, saving babies from raging fires. 

In his daydreams, it never mattered if he got hurt. It only mattered that no one else did.

And then one night Hagrid stomped—quite literally—into his life, and he explained. He explained about Voldemort, about the magical world, about his parents. About the lightning bolt scar. 

About the tattoo.

“It’s a soulmark,” he said. “Every witch and wizard has one. It’s meant to symbolise the nickname that your soulmate will give you when you’re together.”

“Do you have a soulmark?” Harry asked him, awed.

Hagrid laughed bitterly. “Nah. My only true loves are magical creatures anyway.” He leaned forward, as though to tell Harry a secret. “You have to be cautious who you share your soulmark with,” he said. “Could be dangerous if too many people knew. Especially with you being Harry Potter. There are… speculations, you see.”

“Oh.” Harry frowned. “What do people think it says?”

“Eh, the usual, you know. Love, honey… many people claim to know that it says whatever their daughter’s favourite word is. Very creepy, if you ask me.”

Harry nodded. “And what do you think it says?”

“Me?” Hagrid seemed uncomfortable by the question. “Well… Dumbledore wouldn’t tell me when we dropped you off at your Aunt’s, so I’ve been trying not to think about it, you know.”

“I don’t mind telling you,” Harry said.

“Really?” Hagrid’s face lit up. “Y-you don’t have to, but—”

Harry snickered, and told him.

He didn’t understand why Hagrid had to wipe away a few tears.

(more under the cut)

***

The first time he was called saviour was in his second year. Ginny, waking up beside him in the Hospital Wing and surrounded by her family, had murmured it without realising. 

From the other side of her bed, Ron had given Harry an indecipherable look. 

Ron’s tattoo was the word Idiot, neatly written on his ankle. Harry also knew Neville’s hip said Schnuckums, and he’d caught the word Flitterby inscribed in Ginny’s wrist when he’d rescued her from the Chamber of Secrets. 

He didn’t think he would ever say such a word. Still, assuming he was Ginny’s soulmate was the obvious conclusion for any twelve-year-old, and Harry spent the next two years convincing himself he and Ginny were meant for each other. 

And then Fleur Delacour called him a saviour when he emerged from the lake with her sister. 

To be fair, Ron had been called an idiot by quite a number of people by then, including McGonagall, Hooch, all of his siblings and half their Gryffindor classmates, so Harry rationally knew that anyone could call another person by their soulmark nickname and not be their soulmate. 

And yet, he spent a whole month sending increasingly confused letters to Sirius before he came to the conclusion that he liked playing Quidditch with Ginny more than he liked holding her hand. 

***

Ron returned to the forest. Hermione, deep bags under her eyes, tears threatening to come out, called him an idiot, and then stormed over to where he was awkwardly standing, launched into his arms, and kissed him.

She’d never told them about her soulmark, but that night Harry learnt the word Love was neatly tattooed on her ankle.

On the same place as Ron’s, then.

***

Harry tore out the page of the Daily Prophet. Then he tore it into small, small pieces until his picture was no longer moving, until the headline—Saviour returns to Hogwarts—turned into a soup of letters in his hands. 

As he threw the bits into the flames, he thought about his parents. He wondered, for what seemed like the thousandth time since he’d first stepped into the Gryffindor common room, if this had been the first place his mum had called his dad a Toerag. If this had been the place where he’d called her his Princess. 

He’d never had the chance to ask Sirius about it. The only time they had talked about soulmates, Sirius had told him no matter how many people called him by the word on his chest, when the right person did it Harry would know. But when Harry had asked Sirius if he’d ever felt that, his expression had turned sombre as he’d shaken his head.

Now, Harry wondered if Sirius had even known what he was talking about. If it was all utter bullshit: the knowing, the butterflies and fireworks he’d imagined after hearing Sirius’ words, the very idea that there was someone out there—someone who would call him saviour, of all things—meant for him at all. If soulmates existed at all, or if it was all a bad joke meant to make him feel like he wasn’t destined to always be alone, even when he was surrounded by people.

***

Things were supposed to be better after the war ended. Harry guessed they were; all around him, the world was pulling itself back together. In a similar way to how his two best friends clung to one another and brought each other up, the castle was slowly becoming the warm, welcoming home it had always been, and so were its inhabitants.

Harry felt like he was sinking. Like he was too broken to be repaired, the wound so deep that nobody seemed to notice it was there.

Perhaps that was what drew him to Malfoy. 

Malfoy, who looked broken, and tired, and as full of hurt as Harry felt. Malfoy, who took months of sitting in silence beside Harry, of half-hearted fights and sleepless nights in the Hogwarts corridors, to open up and tell Harry that nothing felt worth fighting for anymore.

Malfoy, who, a few months after the school year ended, rolled his eyes and mumbled the words bloody saviour as he accepted Harry’s scarf. He’d started sneezing uncontrollably, not dressed appropriately for the changing November weather. 

It took Harry longer than it should have to notice—or perhaps to admit—that the word felt different when it fell from Draco’s lips. That the way Draco would use the word to point out the most mundane things Harry did, the way he’d catch Harry’s smile a moment later, always filled his chest with warmth. 

That Draco was the first person to not make him hate the word in a very, very long time. 

***

Soon the word became an inside joke between them. Soon, it began to come with soft brushes of hands, with private shared looks of mischief, of complicity. Soon, Draco would call him his saviour as Harry handed him the sugar bowl and Harry would just smile into Draco’s neck, and Draco would lean closer, allowing Harry to hide his smile for a second.

He didn’t know why he hadn’t told Draco yet. That saviour was his soulmark. That he was the first person that had made the word sound okay to his ears. 

That he wanted him. That being around him was easy as breathing.

Okay, maybe he did know, even if he tried not to think about it.

He was scared. Scared that this would end—that he was mistaken, and Draco wasn’t really meant for him. After all, wouldn’t Harry have started calling Draco by some cheesy name by now if it was real? Wouldn’t they have talked about it at all? 

“Has anyone ever called you by your soulmark?” Harry asked one night. They were slouched on the sofa of Harry’s shitty flat, as they often did these days, watching some crappy show and snapping back at the telly from time to time.

They never talked about their soulmarks. It made sense, Harry knew it—knowing what someone else’s mark was before you started calling them by it felt a lot like cheating. 

Still, his mind wouldn’t stay quiet; wouldn’t stop telling him all of this, all he had with Draco, would disappear any moment like sand in the wind.

“Plenty,” Draco said, gaze weirdly fixed on the TV. They usually looked at each other more than the screen, each slumped on one arm of the sofa, legs tangled. 

He was trying to hide a reaction, Harry knew.

“Me too.” Harry trailed his eyes to the screen too, but it didn’t catch his interest. He eyed Draco again. “Anyone feel different from the rest?”

Draco met Harry’s gaze. Then he eyed the clock. “I should get going.”

Harry slept badly that night, drowning in thoughts of Draco leaving. Of Draco being called by the word on his skin—a word Harry surely hadn’t said before and would never think to say—by plenty of people. What if Draco was destined for Harry, but someone else was destined for Draco?

***

He stumbled out of the elevator, Draco resting all of his weight on him. As he fumbled with the keys, Draco slurred into his ear. “You really are a saviour, huh?”

“And you’re really drunk,” Harry said, pushing the door open. “Sit down here a second, I’ll make up the sofa-bed.”

“Sleep with me.”

Harry spluttered—pulled back when Draco, leaning dangerously from the chair, tried to grab his jacket. “Wait here,” he said, a little breathless, and disappeared into the living room.

But when he walked back into the kitchen, heart in his throat, Draco’s words whirling in his mind, Draco wasn’t there. 

Harry found him in the bedroom, sat on the bed, a deep frown scrunching his face as he tried to fumble with the buttons of his own shirt. He’d gotten halfway through, and Harry rushed toward him even though the sight had made something in him stir. 

“Hey, stop that—” he started. But Draco, upon realising Harry was back, stood up and stumbled backwards, yanking the top of his shirt, as if to show Harry—

“Yeah, I know. Funny, isn’t it,” Draco said, although there was nothing funny about what Harry was seeing. “You slayed my soulmark in half and then became the sole person that makes my own name mean anything to me.” He laughed to himself.

Draco. The word, tattooed just below the sharp line of his collarbone, was split in half by an angry, deep scar that made the c almost nonexistent.

“We’re…” Harry started, not daring to finish the sentence.

Draco huffed, his sneer exaggerated by the alcohol. “Don’t be daft, Potty. Just because you say my name from time to time it doesn’t mean I would ever say whatever stupid, cheesy nonsense you have tattooed on your pretty arse—”

Harry pulled at the neck of his shirt, pushing aside the flap of his open denim jacket for Draco to see the word written under his collarbone. 

“Not on my arse,” he muttered when Draco just stared at his chest.

A moment later, Draco shook his head. “But—I—didn’t—”

“You didn’t think that word could ever be my soulmark?” Harry asked. “Welcome to my world of disappointment.”

“I—” He shook his head again, stepped closer. “Only called you that because you’d… you’d started calling me by my name, and it felt so…” Draco touched Harry’s chest. He probably meant for it to be gentle, but he was unstable on his feet and ended up leaning forward, eyes closed, his weight on his palm where it pressed into Harry’s skin. “I was terrified. That you’d… that you’d notice. It couldn’t be you. I”—Draco frowned as though in pain—“couldn’t be for you. So I just—thought of the most ridiculous thing to call you, something that you would absolutely not have on your skin, under any circumstances, and I started calling you that so I wouldn’t call you anything else.”

Harry scoffed. At their luck; at the relief that was washing over him. “Good job,” he murmured, and Draco, emitting a low, pained whine, leaned into him completely, resting his chin on Harry’s shoulder.

“Does this mean I can sleep in your bed?” he asked after a long moment.

“Wouldn’t you like that.” Harry, an almost painful smile pulling at his lips, walked a grumbling Draco back to the sofa. 

***

“Hey there,” Harry said. All that came from the bed was a low groan as Draco turned around. He’d gotten out of his work robes and not bothered with his pyjamas, and his eyes were barely open. “Long day at work?”

“Like you wouldn’t imagine,” Draco muttered, even though Harry knew he would hear all about it soon enough. “Hmph. Can’t wait to retire.”

Harry sat on the edge of the bed—pushed his shoes off. “My poor, poor Draco.” He laughed softly, nuzzling Draco’s neck between the sheets. Draco immediately grabbed at him and made him fall on his stomach into the blankets. “Still a few years till that happens, I’m afraid.” 

“Hmphh,” Draco repeated by way of an answer. He sniffed Harry’s hair. 

“Want me to make dinner?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Harry asked, amused.

“Not as much as I want you to stay in bed with me all evening,” Draco murmured.

“There’s an easy solution for that,” Harry said, taking his phone out. “Pizza or sushi?”

“Sushi.” Draco snuggled closer, then scowled. “Take off those hideous jeans.”

“Okay, okay, one second,” Harry laughed as Draco dragged him under the covers. He re-ordered their latest order and left the phone on the nightstand, then pushed his clothes down. “Gimme a foot.”

Draco squirmed in bed and draped a leg on Harry’s chest. When Harry started massaging the sole of his foot, he sighed, a smile finally revealing Harry’s favourite lines on Draco’s face, rather than the ones that formed when he frowned. “Mmm. My saviour.” 

Harry smiled and kissed Draco’s knee.

(Thanks to @spaceaas for betaing and to all the friends that helped me come up with these nicknames!)

[zambie-trashart]

Origins: rewritten series

A/n: I’m starting with Origins cause I feel like this is going to be really confusion without it and just jumping into Copycat doesn’t seems natural. I hope you guys enjoy cause @loveswifi and I talked about the rewrites for hours and she was trying to help me figure out what fuk to do.

Read the whole series

Summary: Damian and Jon are sent on a mission and live with Jon’s cousin Marinette and one of Marinette’s friend and are shocked when they run into two heroes.

America

“Alright boys, Jon you’ll be staying with the Dupain-Chengs your mother’s second cousins and Damian you’ll be staying with the Lahiffes to look at Paris’ treaty of superheroes and investigate a power surge. This will be a year long mission and you will be posing as exchange students Jon, you’ll be with your cousin and Damian you’ll be with your age group,” Bruce informed two teenage boys one with glasses practically vibrating with excitement smiling at the other who was picking invisible dirt out from his nails bored before his father even started talking.

“We’re ready Mr. Wayne,” Jon said excitedly.

“Walk through the zeta with your bags and remember to keep a low profile. Be careful kids,” Clark said hugging Jon before they walked through.

Paris

“Damian, just imagine all the new friends we’re going to make this year in school!” Jon said dragging his reluctant friend behind him through the airport that they popped up in.

“You mean all the friends that you’re going to make, I’m sticking to the mission,” Damian said before looking around to see his friend was gone and talking the three people who must have been his host family. Jon’s cousin and Jon seemed really similar except she was pretty in Damian’s eyes, wait what, no not pretty not at all, no way.

“Damian this is Marinette, my Aunt Sabine and Uncle Tom, guys this is Damian my best friend,” Jon said looking at Damian with a smirk that he knew all too well. One that meant: I saw that.

.........................................

Damian was settled with his host family that had two sons Nino and Chris, Nino was more chill than any of Jon’s family members could have possibly been. Nino showed Damian to school that morning and told Damian the way to his classroom and walked to his own settling the back. Damian watched from a distance and saw Jon and Marinette sit down behind a newly moved Nino. A blonde girl walked into the room and Damian had a feeling that he wasn’t going to want to watch that so he walked to his own class.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, that’s my seat,” Chloe said eyeing Marinette and Jon. Jon knew his cousin wasn’t going to defend herself, it’s just how she was so they were going to end up moving.

“But Chloe this has always been my seat,” Marinette said whining a little. She looked at Jon helpless. 

They were both kicked out of their seats, Jon sat next to a red-head in the back and Marinette sat next to a girl named Alya.

“All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good people do nothing, well that girl is pure evil and we are the good people we can’t let her get away with it,” Alya said and then class started.

The bell rang and two kids were fighting in front of Jon and he was going to say something but the teacher Miss. Bustier shut it down real quick by sending Ivan to the office.

Jon, Marinette, and Alya walked to the library and heard a loud crash and saw a giant stone monster.

“I’m out of here,” Alya said snapping Jon out of his trance. “Where there’s a supervillain there’s a superhero not that far behind,” Alya said running out of the room.

“She’s not wrong that’s how it works in America,” Jon offered before walking her home. Jon sat in his room and heard questionable noises from Marinette’s room and saw her get enveloped by a ladybug costume and she went through her trap door to the balcony. She was going to try and play hero and that was something that Jon was not going to miss.

Jon got dressed in his uniform and flew over the stadium calling Robin out over the coms. “There are people out here trying to play hero Robin, come down the the stadium like right now,” Jon said before looking down and seeing Damian was already there.

They sat back and watched. The Jon part of Superboy loved how confident Chat Noir was but hated how nervous his cousin looked.

“Come on super red bug the world is watching you!” Alya yelled from down below.

“Ten bucks says she kicks his ass,” Jon said holding out his hand which Damian smacked away immediately. His cousin swung her yoyo and pulled Chat Noir from Stoneheart. 

“Animal cruelty how shameful!” she said smirking. She then had to explain to her partner about how their powers worked after he wasted his on a soccer net. They made a plan and then a purple butterfly, yes a purple fucking butterfly flew away.

“Any ideas Jon?” Damian asked staring at the girl who was being confronted by Alya.

“Ladybug, call me Ladybug,” she said before swinging her yoyo and flying away.

“Leave them alone, they beat the villain, less work for us while we’re in Paris,” Jon offered standing up.

“You’re just saying that cause you have a thing for blondes Jon, don’t treat me like I’m stupid,” Damian said getting up too and grappling away.

“I DO NOT!” Jon yelled like two minutes later blushing bright red and flustered.

.........................................

Jon and the Dupain-Chengs sat down for dinner before Sabine gasped at something on the T.V. people were being turned into stone monsters. Marinette ran up to her room and renounced her miraculous.

Across Paris, Adrien was shocked to hear that he couldn’t do anything without the mystery girl named Ladybug. She had made a mistake, hell Adrien did too but that didn’t mean that she didn’t have what it took to be a hero.

Jon walked up the stairs to his cousin’s room and sat down next to her pulling her into a hug.

.........................................

So that’s sort of where Origins part one ends but part two will be out soon. If you want to be tagged for the rewritten series then tell me or if you have any episodes that you want to be added then tell me cause once part two is out then it’s too late. (See my previous post for episodes that are going to be rewritten.)

Peace out ya’ll!!!!