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science-hoes · 2 months ago

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Daylight: Month One

Michael Robinavitch x Reader

Warnings: Canon-typical medical descriptions

Chapters: Month One, Month Two, Month Three, Month Four

Description: The reader is trying to get to the bottom of her unusual symptoms with the help of Dana.

Michael Robinavitch Masterlist

——

You were well known in the Pitt for being able to handle the most gruesome cases better than any other resident. Degloved leg? No problem. Multiple gunshot wounds with intestines spilling out? Not even a flinch. Necrotizing fasciitis with maggots? Child’s play.

That’s why everyone was shocked to see you sprint over to the trashcan in Central Two and puke your guts out at the smell of a patient’s festering bed sore. Luckily, the patient was unconscious, so he wasn’t offended by your aversion to his wound. You coughed and sputtered the excess saliva in your mouth into the trash, hunched over in case your stomach betrayed you again.

You felt someone’s hands pull your hair out of your face as you vomited again. “Bed sores are your kryptonite?” She asked.

You could see over the edge of the trash can from the shoes (and ankle monitor) that it was McKay. You laughed weakly, trembling as your hands gripped the edges of the container. “I’ve never thrown up like this before. I guess I’m losing my superpowers.” You joked, and you could feel the nausea begin to subside. “Thank you.” You added when you stood up straight.

“No problem.” McKay said, but she had a look on her face that you couldn’t decipher.

You moved away from the trash can and back over to the patient. Santos watched you with an amused look. “I’ve never seen you get sick. Are you knocked up or some shit?” She asked brashly.

You shook your head, internally rolling your eyes. “No way. I’m on the pill. It’s just a stomach bug.” You replied, getting the supplies ready to clean up the patient’s wound.

McKay followed you back to your side and shrugged. “I don’t know, sweetie. My stomach bug is 10 years old now.” She said.

You looked to both women in the room with you. “Don’t worry. I haven’t been having sex anyway.”

Which was a lie because Michael Robinavitch was giving you backshots last night in his bed after work. But you needed to get them off your case.

Santos laughed. “Damn. That’s gotta suck. A sexless life is a pointless life.” She mused.

You took in a deep breath, trying to calm your irritation but also curb the nausea. “I don’t think this is an appropriate conversation to have in front of a patient.” You said, beginning to clean the patient’s wound.

McKay and Santos both gave each other a knowing look. Even if they didn’t know who you were fucking, they knew it had to be someone on the day shift. Too many times you came back from your 15 minute break with your scrubs wrinkled and hair less than perfect.

Their words began to eat at you even after you finished tending to your patient. The pill made your cycles pretty irregular and unpredictable. Your nausea seemed to come out of nowhere. And, of course, the damning fact that Robby hadn’t used a condom since six months of dating.

You had been secretly dating for a year and a half now. Only a very select few of your coworkers knew: Dana, Jack, and Mel. Early on, you and Robby agreed that it was best to keep it private to make sure the hospital administrators stayed out of it. Not to mention, you didn’t want any of the other coworkers to think you got special treatment because you were dating a senior attending.

Robby was sitting at his desk station, typing into a patient’s chart. Those damned black-rimmed glasses sat on his nose, and you made a mental note to make him wear them the next time he fucked you. He peered over the top of the glasses when he noticed you walking towards him. “How’s our bed sore patient?” He asked.

You leaned against the high counter of the desk. “He’s okay.” You said, and then looked around to make sure nobody was listening. “I threw up.”

Robby stared at you because clearly he misunderstood. “Huh?”

You folded your hands and pulled your lips into a thin line. “I puked. My guts out. In front of McKay and Santos. Because of the smell.” You explained.

He removed his glasses, so he could focus his full attention. “You threw up?” He asked.

You rolled your eyes in exasperation. “For the third time. I vomited while seeing a patient.”

Robby leaned back in his chair. “You eat something bad?” He asked.

You shrugged, leaning down a little closer to him. “I mean, not unless you gave me food poisoning last night.” You whispered.

He crossed his arms, a small smile playing at his lips. “I take offense to that. I do not undercook my food.” He replied.

You rolled your eyes, smiling with him. “You’re right. How dare I question your cooking skills?”

Robby’s smile broke into a grin. “That’s right. Don’t let it happen again.” He teased before nodding his head toward the doctor’s lounge. “Why don’t you go take your break? Get some water.”

You stood up straight, putting your hands in your pockets. “Yeah I will.” You said, and as you turned to walk away, you glanced back at him. “Have you taken your break yet?” You asked.

To anyone else, it was a normal question. But to you and your boyfriend, it was an invitation to the on-call room. Robby slid his glasses back on and watched you over the top of them. “No, I haven’t. But if you threw up, you shouldn’t get on any more rides.” He said quietly and winked at you.

What an asshole. You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide your grin as you turned to head to the break room. On the way, you passed the supply closet.

“My stomach bug is 10 years old now.” McKay’s voice echoed in your brain.

You looked around to make sure nobody was watching before entering, snatching two pregnancy tests, and hurrying to the bathroom. You switched the lock shut, taking a moment to breathe and find peace. You ripped both tests out of their packages, tossing the trash, and taking them as instructed. Once the test area was saturated, you wrapped both tests in a paper towel and shoved them in your pocket. There was no extra time in your day to wait 15 minutes in the bathroom when you still needed water.

You exited the bathroom and made a beeline to the doctors’ lounge. It was empty and quiet, a stark contrast from the busy, noisy environment of the Pitt. You grabbed your water bottle from the cubby, sat down in a chair, and washed away the stomach acid that lingered in your mouth. You tried to calm your nerves by closing your eyes and breathing deeply, but the pregnancy tests in your pocket were calling to you like the fucking Green Goblin mask. As if your hand belonged to another person, you reached down and pulled them out, unraveling them from the paper towel. And already, three minutes later, you had your answer.

Double lines. On both tests. Matching the “pregnant” option of the guide on the stick.

You felt like your soul had been punched out of your body. You were pregnant. The questions started running through your mind like an F1 race. How far along? Is Robby going to be upset? How are you going to finish residency? Is Robby going to leave you? How are you going to do this?

You didn’t realize the tears that began to well up in your eyes and threaten to fall if you blinked. With haste, you shoved the tests back in your pocket, left your water bottle on the table, and hurried to find the only person who could help you right now.

And, thankfully, she seemed relatively unbusy at the nurses’ hub. You marched right up to Dana, arms crossed over your chest in a protective position.

“Dana, I need your help.” You said before she had a chance to look up.

She immediately clocked your teary eyes, and she went into mama bear mode. “Oh, sweetie, what’s wrong?” She asked, hands resting on either side of your crossed arms.

“I just- I need your help.” You repeated, brows furrowing as you spent all your concentration on holding back sobs.

Dana nodded and looked around the Pitt. “Okay, okay. Do you need me to get Robby?”

“No!” You snapped in a whisper. “No, not right now. I need you to do an ultrasound for me.”

Her face changed from one of worry to one that was…still worried but softer and understanding. Without another word, she placed a hand on your back and led you to an empty room in the back of the Pitt where there was always an ultrasound machine ready to go. She swung the curtain open and closed as you both discretely entered the room.

You laid down on the bed, resting your head on the incline. Dana began to turn on the machine and placed the ultrasound gel in the warmer. The lights were dimmed, and you were grateful for it.

“How long have you known?” She asked, back turned to you as she set up the settings on the screen.

“Just a few minutes. I took a couple of tests from the supply closet.” You admitted, unrolling the tests from the crinkled paper towel.

Dana turned once she had the probe and gel in her hands. Even in the low light of the room, the tests showed two distinct lines. She chuckled as she shook the gel bottle. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a clearer pregnancy test.”

You pulled your tucked scrub top out from your pants, hoisting it to your ribcage. Dana squirted the warm gel onto the probe before staring back at you.

“Uh, this is your first ultrasound, hun. It’s transvaginal. I need your pants to come off.” She said.

You felt your cheeks grow red in embarrassment. You’re a resident for Christ’s sakes. You knew that. “You’re right, sorry.”

You kicked your shoes off and shimmied out of your scrub bottoms and panties. Dana handed you a blanket to cover your knees, and you gratefully accepted.

“Okay, you ready to see this baby?” She asked. “Just gonna feel some pressure down there.”

You took in a deep breath and nodded. The probe inserted, and Dana moved it around until she found the image she wanted on the screen. You didn’t look at the screen, almost afraid to.

“Looks like little peanut is in the uterus. Not ectopic.” She said, and then looked to you. “Do you want to see it?” She asked.

You felt relief wash over you at the confirmation. You looked over to the screen, and there was your baby. Just a little bean in your uterus. No arms or legs or anything. Just a shape. A smile found its way to your face anyway.

“It’s so tiny.” You said in awe.

Dana chuckled and pressed some keys on the monitor to save the picture. She removed the probe and cleaned it off, allowing you to pull the blanket over your waist. “Don’t worry, it’ll get bigger and more annoying before you know it.” She replied.

You stared at the screen, feeling an odd sense of peace that you’d never felt before. “Please don’t tell anyone.” You whispered.

Dana huffed in annoyance that you even reminded her. “You think I’m gonna go blabbing to everyone about you and Robby’s secret love child?” She asked.

You giggled and shook your head. “No…no, I trust you.” You responded before shifting uncomfortably. “Can you…” You trailed off, scared to even ask.

“Get Robby?” She finished for you.

You inhaled deeply and nodded. Dana placed the ultrasound probe back in its holder. “Just be discrete.” You pleaded.

She lifted her arms out. “It’s like you don’t even know me.” She teased before heading out into the Pitt, leaving you in privacy.

Dana made her way to the desk hub, scanning the department for Robby. When she saw him exiting a patient room, she waved him down. Robby, in fake exasperation, rolled his eyes and shoved his hands into the pockets of his worn navy hoodie.

“What now?” He asked.

Dana raised an eyebrow at the sass, but decided to let it slide. “I’ve got a patient in Ultrasound 1 that I need you to check on.” She said.

Robby furrowed his brow. “What’s the patient here for?” He asked.

“Patient is pregnant, wanted you to double check the ultrasound. Transvaginal.” She responded.

Robby looked to the back of the department where the ultrasound rooms were and turned to head that way. “Ah, yes. My girlfriend loves it when I’m knuckles deep in another woman.” He joked in a flat voice.

Dana smirked as he walked to your room, wishing there was some way to preserve the irony in the air. Robby pressed his hand to the hand sanitizer dispenser and swung the curtain open and shut before rubbing his hands together.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Robinavitch, but you can call me-“ His standard patient greeting came to a halt when he saw you laying in the patient bed, clutching the blanket to your chest. “What are you doing in here? Are you okay?” He asked, rushing to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed.

You nodded as one of his hands caressed the side of your face. “I’m okay.” You whispered. “Um, Dana had to check something out for me.”

For as smart as Robby was, he was having a hard time connecting the dots. “Check out what?” He asked.

You squinted in stress, wishing he would figure it out himself. So instead you just pointed to the ultrasound monitor screen. Robby turned to follow, and his eyes met the picture of a tiny embryo. His body language didn’t change, but he was frozen for sure.

You reached to the side of the bed to show him the positive pregnancy tests. “I think it’s why I threw up.” You whispered.

Robby looked down to the tests and their unmistakable results. He took them into his hands, and he just stared at them. You breathing became uneven as anxiety started to flow through you.

“I know it’s not what you wanted.” You said.

Your boyfriend looked to you with a look on his face you had never seen. Tears shimmered in the corners of his eyes, and his breath hitched. “It’s mine?” He asked, with a twinge of hope in his voice.

You wanted to smack him upside the head for even asking the question. “Yes, of course it’s yours, Michael.” You replied, pulling his first name to show you were serious.

The tears that began to fall down his cheeks inspired yours to do the same. Robby placed the tests down and fell into your arms, shaking with quiet crying. You ran a hand through his hair, surprised at his reaction. His arms pulled you into the tightest hug he had ever given you.

“We’re having a baby?” He asked into your chest, needing to hear your voice confirm it.

You smiled and lifted his head to meet your eyes. Those shining brown eyes were full of hope like you had never seen in your entire relationship. “We’re having a baby.” You replied and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Robby laughed with a new joy, one that you’d remember forever. He began pressing kisses across your face, and you felt like you could breathe for the first time in an hour. For a few minutes, he laid fully on the bed with you, pulling you close against his chest. You both stared at the picture of your tiny bean baby on the ultrasound monitor.

Your fingers were intertwined with his when you finally said, “We need to get back out there.”

Robby pressed a kiss to your hair and placed your coupled hands onto your belly. “Just a little bit longer.” He pleaded.

And you couldn’t say no to that.

—

A/N: Thank you all for being so patient while waiting for this fic! Robby deserves happiness more than anyone, so I decided to give him a break from all of the torture he’s been through on that never ending shift. I will be updating this fic weekly, possibly sooner, for each month of the pregnancy + a little before!

#the Pitt #the pitt fanfiction #michael robinavitch x reader #dr Robby x reader #dr Robby #Doctor Robby #Noah Wyle #michael Robinavitch #doctor Robby x reader

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seumyo · 1 month ago

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Kaminari hadn’t meant to snoop. Really, he hadn’t.

He had only picked up your phone because it wouldn’t stop buzzing—over and over on the coffee table, screen flashing with that one number that couldn’t just understand that you weren’t holding your phone to answer. No names. Not a single one. Just strings of digits. For a second, he thought you had downloaded some weird encrypted app or changed your settings to something bizarrely minimalistic.

Huh.

“I should try,” he murmurs to himself, grabbing his phone and dialing your number. Any minute now, you’d come back from getting your favorite fluffy blankets from his room—that one he handwashes with care and even props out in the sun to fully dry, just like how you liked it.

Kaminari’s own number flashed across the screen: just ten lonely digits, devoid of a name, emoji, or even an initial. He stared at it, the gears on his head turning at a rusty pace.

It was his number. His number. Not “Denki,” not “Sparky,” not “Babe,” not “The Love of My Life,” not “My Future Hubby,” not “Handsome,” not even “Kaminari.” Just the raw numbers, like he was a stranger, or worse, a throwaway contact in a burner phone.

The laugh he let out was tight and a little strained. He brushed it off, tossed the phone onto the couch, and waited for you to come back from his room like nothing was out of place. Like his stomach wasn’t twisting itself into a sweaty, suspicious knot. Not that you were cheating, never. He trusted you enough, but maybe you were ashamed of him to let other people know that you two are dating?

It bugged him. More than he expected. The way a headache sits behind your eyes but won’t commit to hurting. It was stupid. Petty, maybe. But it lingered.

Kaminari tried to joke about it hours later, laughing a little too loudly as he said, “Hey, uh, what’s with all the serial killer contacts in your phone? I didn’t even get a cute nickname?”

You blinked at him, genuinely confused, nuzzling your face on his shoulder. Like a cute cat, he thinks. Kaminari feels his heart in his throat because of the cuteness and the bubbling anxiety in the pit of his stomach. “Serial killer?”

“Y’know,” he said, trying to keep it light, “just numbers. All of them. Even mine.” He grinned, exaggerated and toothy. “Should I be worried? You running a hit list?”

You stared at him, and he could see something shift in your expression—like a door opening a crack. “Oh,” you said softly, like it hadn’t even occurred to you that it might seem strange. “That’s just how I keep them. I forget to name them. But I know who’s who. I don’t need the names.”

Kaminari blinked.

“Even mine?”

“Yeah,” you said, smiling as he draped the blanket over you two, the move long forgotten by now, “yours is easy to remember. The last four digits are a pattern.”

And that was it. No follow-up. No apology. No backpedaling. Just the casual, maddening confidence of someone who wasn’t trying to be cold but was naturally, infuriatingly strange.

It shouldn’t have mattered. Not really.

He knew you cared.

You just weren’t the hand-holding, heart-doodling type, but you’d always been consistent in your own subtle, unique ways whenever you two were alone like this. Still, something about seeing his identity in your world boiled down to anonymous digits had lit up a flare of insecurity inside him. Like he could be deleted as easily as a telemarketer.

Maybe even considered a scammer for insurance.

Or worse, a meatball seller. Just a meatball seller—as if he wasn’t your super-duper-on-top-of-the-world-awesome boyfriend!

He didn’t bring it up again. Didn’t want to nag or seem clingy. He let it go—outwardly, at least. But it lingered in the quiet moments, nestled into his chest where doubts went to hibernate.

Then, one night, about a week later, you handed him your phone.

“I need you to text Kirishima for me,” you said, your tone distracted as you fiddled with a stubborn zipper on your hoodie. Actually, his hoodie. Kaminari really needed to keep better track of which of his clothing you unknowingly kept to yourself (not that he minded, but damn, he was losing hoodies faster than he could buy them).

He took it, unlocked it—you never used a passcode—and opened your messages. His thumb hovered.

Kirishima’s name was there.

In actual text. Not a number. No code.

A small, stunned silence stretched in the space between his heartbeat and his breath. He scrolled.

Jirou. Sero. Yaoyorozu. Tokoyami. Even Bakugou, with the words “Do Not Call After 7PM Unless Dying” in parentheses beside his name.

And then—there he was.

Denki <3

His name. With the cutest heart next to it.

His chest squeezed. The stupid little heart had never meant so much in his entire life.

He stared at it for a moment too long.

You, still battling your zipper, noticed. “I fixed them,” you said with a hopeful smile, like it was the usual weather. “You were right. It looked creepy. I guess I just got used to recognizing numbers instead of names. But I didn’t want you thinking you were just… some number.”

You still weren’t looking at him. Your voice was soft, and your fingers fidgeted, and your foot tapped against the floor in that telltale you-way that meant you were nervous and pretending not to be.

Kaminari set the phone down slowly and walked over, carefully nudging your zipper into place for you. It’s simple, it’s intimate, and it sends his heart into a frenzy—god, he’s so in love with you.

He looked up at you with that boyish grin, the one that always crept in when his heart got too full. “You gave me a heart.”

You gave a tiny, sheepish shrug. “You’re the only one who got one.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He couldn’t help himself and just went in and kissed you—soft and slow—and felt the heaviness that had been hanging on him dissolve into nothing. It wasn’t about the contact name. Not really. It was about knowing that, in your own quiet, awkward way, you had listened. You had noticed. And you had come up with a solution, just for him.

He wasn’t just ten digits on a screen. He was Denki <3. Your Denki, his heart knows like a familiar heartbeat.

And shit, he’d want that engraved in his gravestone one day.

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puckinghischier · 11 months ago

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Tentastrophe

Nico Hischier x Fem!reader

summary: reader and nico are in a secret relationship while on a camping trip together

notes: hi lovies! i got this request from my dear 🏔️ anon so i had to get right on it!! this was so fun to write and even more fun to play out in my head while i was writing it 🤭. also i had no clue what to name it so i quite literally just made up a word 🫣. i hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

request: We’re camping and my tent ripped, can I please share yours?

[5.1k]

You hated the outdoors. Truly, you despised being outside.

You hated bugs, you were scared of wild animals, you hated the heat, you hated dirt, grass made you itchy, and you really hate the lack of indoor plumbing.

Literally, how do people enjoy spending a week out in the middle of nowhere, no signal for miles, no air conditioning, and eating the same four types of canned food? Not to mention your dislike of sleeping bags.

Who wants to sleep on a flimsy piece of material on the hard ground for days at a time? It’s just simply not appealing.

You continue to list off the things in your head you hate about camping and the outdoors in general while watching yourself be driven farther and farther away from the city through the windshield of Jack’s SUV.

“Oh c’mon, Y/N, don’t look like someone just kicked a puppy in front of you,” you hear from the front seat, Jack looking at you through his rear-view mirror.

You roll your eyes at him.

“Jack, I’m being taken to a remote location against my will with no access to a bathroom or civilization for seven whole days. At least if someone kicked a puppy in front of me, it’d be over sooner.”

“Woah, so you’re advocating for puppy kickers now, are you?” A new voice rings out, this one belonging to Dawson, who occupies the seat against the window beside of you.

“She’s not advocating for it, Dawson, she’s just saying she’d prefer it to being stuck in the woods with you for a week straight,” Holtzy responds from your other side, having been sandwiched between the two in the backseat of Jack’s car for the hour and a half ride to your unfortunate destination.

Dawson reaches behind your head to smack Alex’s. Alex tries to retaliate, and suddenly you have two hockey players trying to fight each other on either side of your body.

“Hey! Cut it out before you hurt Y/N! Coach needs her to get good footage this weekend,” Luke yells at the two forwards.

“Wow, thanks for showing me where my worth lies, Luke,” you deadpan.

Luke flashes you a grin before turning back around in his seat. “You’re welcome.”

You stick your tongue out at him, knowing he’s just teasing you.

When you applied for a marketing internship at the Prudential Center a year ago, you had no idea that you would become so invested in this world. After the initial six month period of your internship was over, you were making plans to find work elsewhere when you were approached by the team’s GM and asked if you were interested in staying on full time as the new social media manager.

You immediately agreed, knowing you had found your passion with working in sports and wanted to stick with it for as long as you could. It didn’t hurt that you had become such good friends with a handful of the players close to your age, four of which were in the same car as you right now.

You and Jack were the closest, though. The two of you bonded over your shared love of country music, a rare find outside of your southern hometown. You had found other interests in common, too, but becoming each other’s country music concert buddy is to credit for much of your friendship.

You grew close to Luke simply because of your proximity to Jack, but found that he’s become a little brother to you. People always assumed there was more than friendship going on between you and Jack, but both of the Hughes boys had become the brothers you never had, no feelings beyond that ever surfacing.

As your job continued to cause you to spend time with the team, you found yourself growing closer to other players as well.

Nico was another player you found yourself talking to long after your work duties were done for the day. Whether it was chatting before practice, pulling him a little too frequently to do interviews or make videos, or grabbing a bite to eat after practice and games because neither one of you wanted to end your conversations, you found the Swiss captain occupying a large chunk of your time both at work and outside of work.

Which doesn’t make it all that surprising that he asked you to be his girlfriend three months ago.

After a huge win over the Islanders at home, the entire team had decided to go out to celebrate. You had caught a ride with Jack that morning, but when you were searching for him so you could leave, he was nowhere to be found, already gone to whatever bar everyone had agreed on.

Nico had stayed behind to do a few extra post-game interviews, so when you bumped into him outside of the locker rooms on your search for Jack, he offered you a ride. You had mentioned how hungry you were, telling him you should probably go home and grab something to eat and change before getting an uber to the bar, but Nico had pulled into the first late-night diner he saw after you mentioned your lack of eating dinner.

The two of you sat in the 50’s themed diner for hours, ignoring all the calls and texts asking where you were and why you didn’t come out to celebrate. You didn’t even realize how late it was until you received a text from Jack, asking that you call him when you got up so he knew you made it home safe, apologizing for forgetting you at the arena.

Nico walked you up to your apartment after driving you home that night, despite the fact it was after three in the morning and they had a mid-day practice the next day. You still don’t know if it was the high of winning or the late hour, but he decided to kiss you at your doorstep that night. Three days later, he asked you to be his girlfriend because he told you he couldn’t stand not being exclusive with you for a second longer.

No one knew, though. You kept on acting as if nothing had changed at work, and no one caught on otherwise. You decided it was fun to keep it to yourselves, enjoying being each other’s secret. You didn’t know the policy on dating your coworkers, either, so you didn’t want to risk anything by outing the relationship this early.

You felt bad lying and sneaking around Jack and Luke, especially, but you’ll tell them eventually. You enjoyed having no eyes on you, your relationship being simply between you and Nico right now. When you tell your friends and the rest of the team, it’ll be out there for good. Fans will find out, your boss will find out, and then your small bubble of Nico will burst.

That’s another reason you dread this weekend. Not only do you just hate camping and being outside for long periods of time, you’re going to be stuck being around Nico for a week straight with no chance to be his girlfriend instead of his coworker.

The trip is the team’s pre-season bonding activity, so you’re tagging along to capture material for future videos and pictures for the various social media pages and website. You had tried to send one of the other members of your media team, not thrilled at the idea of a camping retreat, but the head coach had requested you, specifically, because of your ability to convince the players to participate in various trends and videos.

You owe some of that to Nico, of course. After the two of you formed a friendship, he started telling his teammates they had to participate in whatever silly tasks you asked of them or he’d start reporting them to coach for making your job harder. Since his forceful request, you rarely had to fight to get any of the players to do the latest trending dance, or answer silly questions as they get on the ice before practice.

Unfortunately for you, this means the higher ups see your success and suddenly you’re volunteered to do things like this. And really, what kind of social media content can you create when you won’t even have cell service?

Tuning back into your surroundings, you notice you’re almost to the campground you’ll call home this week. You were so lost in your own head that you barely even noticed the four (grown) men in this car with you singing loudly to the F.U.N. song from none other than Spongebob Squarepants.

Jack and Luke were duetting the song, Jack taking the sponge’s part and Luke singing Plankton’s lines. Dawson and Alex were simply adding harmonies.

You were in for a long week.

———————————————————————————

“Who in their right mind would put a twenty-four year old teenage girl in charge of putting together her own tent?” you whine out as Curtis walks over to see you trying to read the directions for putting together the tent laid out in front of you.

“Honey, I think you’re a little too old to be calling yourself a teenage girl,” he chuckles as he kneels beside you, taking the instructions out of your hands.

“I’m just a girl, Lazar. I will always be a teenage girl at my core, no matter what age I am. Therefore, I’m a twenty-four year old teenage girl. And I’m extremely incapable of building a fucking tent,” you cry out, crossing your arms and huffing.

Curtis just shakes his head and laughs, grabbing the rods that go inside of the tent to give it structure, putting it together for you.

You sit back and watch, trying to help where you can, but ultimately being reverted back to the role of ‘holding the flashlight for dad’, but instead you’re ‘holding the mallet for Curtis’.

Halfway through putting your tent up, you see Nico start walking in your direction. You admire your boyfriend, his tan skin showing due to his green t-shirt being stuck in the pocket of his athletic shorts instead of on his torso. His black hat sits backwards on his head, hiding what you’re sure is sweaty hair. His favorite pair of sunglasses rest on his nose.

“Already making the guys do your dirty work, how dare you, Y/N,” Nico teases as he stops to stand in front of where you’re sitting on the ground.

“Listen, one perk of being a woman in sports is the fact that I’m always surrounded by men just waiting to save the damsel in distress,” you put your hand across your forehead to hide the sun from your eyes, squinting your eyes as you look up at him.

He rolls his eyes at you, flashing you a smile.

“Need any help, Curtis?” Nico calls out, but keeps his eyes on you.

“I think I’m nearly done, but if you want to start hammering the stakes in the ground that’d be great,” Curtis replies, not even looking up from the tent that had now taken shape.

“Sure thing. The mallet, please,” he reaches his hand out to you.

You hand Nico the mallet, looking up at him with an amused grin. “Get to it, time to do manly stuff and go pound on something .”

You start to stand and Nico shoots his other hand out for you to grab onto, helping you heave yourself off the ground.

Once you’re stood in front of Nico, he pulls your hand toward him so you’re standing dangerously close to him, your chests nearly touching. You look around, making sure no one sees the position the two of you are in right now.

Nico leans down, lips grazing your ear as he whispers “Unless you want me to drag you behind a tree and do extremely un-coworker type things to you with the entire team right here, I suggest you don’t talk about pounding anymore this weekend.”

A shiver makes it way down your spine as Nico steps back, walking over to where Curtis is now standing, turning to face the two of you.

You hope he assumes the redness on your face is because of the warm sun, and not because his captain just threatened to do R rated things to you behind a tree.

Ten minutes later, your tent is fully assembled and you’re blowing up your air mattress with a battery powered pump that’s seen better days.

Jack had laughed at your for bringing an air mattress, claiming it’s not really camping if you don’t sleep in a sleeping bag. You told him you refused to sleep on the ground with just a thin bag underneath you for the whole week. If you had to be here, you were going to make yourself as comfortable as you could.

You even brought a battery powered fan to sit in front of your bed incase you got hot at night, but you learned very quickly that even though it’s hot and humid during the day, the night is chilly and dark.

After everyone had settled in and the sun had set, Timo had managed to start a fire, placing hot dogs on a small grate he placed next to the fire while Jesper worked on opening cans of various types of vegetables to heat along side the sausages.

You laughed to yourself, knowing the team nutritionist would develop an eye twitch seeing what foods will be consumed by the players this week. The amount of sodium and carbs in the containers of food for the week were definitely not in line with the meal plan.

Finding a spot next to Jack, you go sit on one of the various logs around the fire, needing the heat to warm your chilled skin. Music played out of a speaker sitting on the picnic table behind the logs, one of your favorite country songs filling the space.

“Nice choice, it’s one of my favorites,” you nudge Jack’s shoulder as you sat down, assuming he had control of the music.

“Yeah it’s a good one, but don’t look at me. Cap’s the one with the aux right now,” he says, pointing to where Nico is standing by a tree, red solo cup in his hand.

You turn your head and make eye contact with him, his eyes having already found you. The raise of his cup and tilt of his head telling you he played this song specifically for you. Your face heats and you smile at the ground, trying to keep the grin from stretching too wide, not wanting to raise suspicion from the brunette to your right.

“Y’know, I wonder why Cap has any country music in his playlist at all, because last I checked, his phone was full of rap and Swiss music and he told me country was his least favorite genre,” Jack starts, leaning closer so you can hear him over the music and chatter. “But then I remembered, I see you and him talking an awful lot after practice, before practice, and everywhere in-between.” You feel like someone has dumped a bucket of ice water on your head, worried Jack’s figured the two of you out. “You’re not cheating on your music buddy, are you?” he asks, looking at you suspiciously.

Relief washes over you. He just thinks you’re sharing music with Nico. Not that you’re seeing Nico behind everyone’s back.

“I might have mentioned a few good artists to him. But don’t worry, concerts are still reserved for you,” you bump his shoulder again.

“Mhmmm. Must have taken a lot of convincing to make a rap loving Swiss man convert to Zach Bryan,” Jack hums, still looking at you suspiciously.

“Just a few links sent is all,” you tell him, noticing he’s just staring at you. “What?” you ask, leaning back a bit.

“Nothing,” Jack shakes his head, his eyes gleaming with an idea. “Just thinking…have you ever thought about going out with Cap?”

You choke on air. You try to recover with a cough, claiming you swallowed the wrong way. “What, what do you mean?”

“You know, like you and Cap. Going on a date. Dating. I think you two would be good together. You guys already seem friendly enough, and he’s a great guy. Plus, I can see the way you look at him, Y/N. You definitely have a crush on the guy,” Jack teases.

You start laughing. Jack is confused by your reaction, not thinking his suggestion was funny at all, but you can’t stop the laughs from escaping.

“Oh, Jack. You’re funny,” you tell him once you calm yourself down. “That’s nice, but nah. I don’t think Nico and I should go there. Too many things could go wrong, y’know? Plus, who even knows if I’m allowed to date any of you guys. Workplace romances are frowned upon in most jobs, you know.”

“Okay, it wasn’t that comical of a suggestion. I was being serious, I think you guys would be great together. To hell with the rules. I can tell when two people are into each other,” Jack says with a hint of annoyance, not appreciating your little laughing outburst.

A look of surprise makes its way onto your face at his comment that he thinks Nico is into you, too. Maybe the two of you weren’t doing such a good job at acting normal around the team. You succeed at suppressing the laughter this time, figuring a second outburst would really make Jack upset. “Oh, you think he’s into me, do you?”

Jack looks at you like you just asked him if the sky was blue.

“Are you kidding me? Y/N, he literally jumps at the chance to be in any of your tik tok videos and he threatened the whole team so they would quit, and I quote, ‘making your job harder and just fucking do what you ask’ or he’d report us to coach.”

You can’t help but giggle this time, of course knowing all of this, Nico having told you himself after he did it, but you can’t let Jack know that.

“I don’t know, Jack, that doesn’t exactly sound like something he’d do. What does he get out of it? More interruptions during practice? More attention on social media? Doesn’t sound like Nico if you ask me,” you tell him, trying to play dumb.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe he gets to spend more time with you. He gets on your good side, helps make your job easier while making ours harder. Earns brownie points to butter you up so you say yes to a date one of these days,” Jack leans his head towards yours, looking up at you like he’s just proven his point.

You steal a glance over at Nico, his head cocked, silently asking what you and Jack are talking about. You shake your head with a smile, telling him its unimportant with the roll of your eyes.

“I don’t know, Jack. We’ll see, I guess,” you sing song, earning a sigh from the boy to your right.

“You’re hopeless, both of you. I need another beer,” he gets up, leaving you on the bench by yourself, chuckling at just how right your best friend is.

After all of the burnt hot dogs and lukewarm veggies were eaten, it was time to for everyone to retire to their tents.

All of the players had to double up on tents, you and the coach being the only two people with their own. The players that were sharing tents on this trip would be sharing hotel rooms all season, so the bonding began with them being able to exist in the same space for an extended period of time.

Your tent sat about 50 feet from Jack and Luke’s. Nico’s tent was in the row of tents in front of yours, three tents separating the two of you.

You quickly made your way to your own tent and started getting ready for bed. Not being able to wash your face or do you proper skincare routine, you settled for brushing your teeth with a warm bottle of water and applying lotion to your face before crawling into your make-shift bed for the week. You hadn’t packed nearly enough blankets, seeing as you assumed it would be warm inside your tent, but you were chilled to the bone. You kept your sweatshirt on, opting for a pair of sweatpants instead of the skimpy sleeping shorts you brought.

You settled into your bed, switching off the small lantern you had been provided.

You laid there for what felt like ages trying to fall asleep. Every little snap of a twig or rustle of leaves made you scared a bear was about to claw its way through your tent.

You thought you had imagined it at first, assuming the wind was blowing and causing your tent to slightly ruffle in the wind. But when it happened a second time, this time the sound of something fiddling with the zipper of your tent following the ruffling, you were starting to panic.

You sat up, pulling the blanket to your chin as you saw a hand push on the door of your tent, a quiet yelp making its way out of you.

“Shhh, it’s just me, let me in,” you hear the familiar, accented voice of your boyfriend ring out, huffing while walking over and unzipping your tent just enough for him to slip through.

You walk back over to your air mattress, turning on the small lantern, looking at Nico standing in the middle of your tent. He was wearing a tan sherpa fleece with plaid pajama bottoms. He had to hunch over slightly, his height being too tall for your small tent.

“What the hell are you doing in here? You scared the hell out of me, you know that?” you whisper yelled at him, careful to not raise your voice too high as to not wake any of his teammates.

“My tent ripped, can I please share yours?” Nico asks with a smirk on his face.

“Oh, yeah? If your tent ripped then where’s Jesper sleeping, huh?” you raise your eyebrow and cross your arms.

“I just left him to fend for himself. Didn’t exactly want to invite him to sleep in here with us. Never know what he might see,” he walks towards you, placing his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him.

He looks down at you, your position mirroring earlier when this exact tent was being assembled, but you had no fear of anyone seeing you now.

“Hi, Schatz.”

You giggle up at him, unraveling your arms and placing them on his shoulders. “Hi Neeks.”

“I’ve been waiting all day to do this,” he mumbles before bringing his face down to yours.

You lean up on your tip toes to meet his lips, sighing contently into the kiss.

Nico pulls you closer, no space left between your bodies as his sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. You tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing against him into the kiss.

His tongue swipes across your lips, asking for entrance, and who are you to deny his wish? His tongue slips into your mouth, effectively deepening the kiss.

Nico walks you backwards until you plop down onto your air mattress, bringing his knee to rest in-between your legs, his forearms on either side of your head to support his weight.

You tug on his hair slightly, earning a groan in response. He starts grinding his pelvis against your thigh, which was your sign to stop this before it got too out of hand.

You pull back, pushing him up off of you slightly. He looks down at you with blown pupils and swollen lips. “Alright, tiger, slow down. We’re not having sex with several tents full of your entire team a few feet away.”

Nico deflates and brings his forehead to rest against your shoulder. “You couldn’t have told me that before I got a stiffie?”

“Sorry, shouldn’t have let yourself get so worked up. Should’ve known I wasn’t going to go there with this many people around,” you laugh at his whiney tone.

He rolls off of you onto his back, slinging his arm over his eyes.

“What are you doing? Quit being so dramatic,” you roll your eyes, trying to grab his arm and remove it from his face.

“Stop, trying to think of sad puppies to make my boner go away,” he swats your hand off of his arm.

You bust out laughing for the second time tonight, but this time you throw a hand over your mouth to stop the noise. The conversation about puppies in the car on the way here earlier making its way to your mind, making you laugh even harder.

“Okay, I think I’m good now,” Nico finally says, sitting up.

“Good. Don’t even think about getting handsy, either. This,” you gesture between you and Nico, “is not happening tonight. Or any night this week, for that matter.”

“Got it. You don’t want any of my teammates to hear you scream my name while my tongue is ins-“ you slap a hand over Nico’s mouth, not letting him finish that sentence.

His eyes shine with amusement at you, seeing your own wide in surprise. “Can I trust you to take my hand off of your mouth?” you ask him.

Nico shakes his head, but not before he darts his tongue out and licks a stripe up the palm of your hand, causing it to fly off of his mouth.

“Okay, you’re disgusting,” you scold him, wiping you hand on the blanket you’re both sitting on top of.

Nico just laughs at you in response, finding your annoyed expression amusing.

“C’mon, let’s go to bed. I’m already sick of you and the week hasn’t even started yet,” you tell him, pulling the blanket back so you can settle under it.

Nico follows your lead and places himself under the blanket at well, pulling your body close to his.

You lay your head on one end of your pillow while Nico places his on the other end, not having brought his own from his tent. The two of you just lay there facing each other for awhile before you remember to reach over and turn off the lantern once again.

You’re appreciative of the new warmth Nico brings to your bed, finally feeling yourself get sleepy.

“Wait, how are you going to know when to wake up before everyone else and go back to your tent?” you ask him, knowing his phone was in his vehicle, none of the players allowed their devices with them. You and coach were the only ones with phone privileges this week, even though they didn’t even work out here.

“Don’t worry, I will. First time I wake up I’ll sneak out, don’t worry,” he assures you, kissing you on the forehead before pulling your body flush to his, resting his chin on the top of your head.

Neither one of you must have woken up at all during the night, though, because when you wake up the next morning to the screams of “I knew it! I knew they were into each other! I told you so!” from your best friend as he stood inside your tent at the end of your bed with not only Luke, but with half of the team standing outside the wide open door of your tent, you were confused until you felt the weight of a body against yours. You open your eyes to see Nico’s scrunched face, the noise waking him up as well.

You both roll over and open your eyes, noticing your audience.

“I called it! I knew there was something going on here! How long have you two been together?” Jack bombards the two of you with questions despite you having literally just woke up.

“Get the hell out of this tent before I get coach to make everyone run three miles today,” Nico grumbles, his voice gravely from the early hour.

“No way, we need an explanation,” Dawson speaks this time, his expression matching Jack’s pleased one.

“You’ll get your explanation, but for right now, get out. Let us actually wake up without fifty people in our fucking tent. Now go, get out,” Nico pulls you closer to him, hiding your face in his chest and slinging a leg over your own.

“But-“ Jack starts again, but Nico removes an arm from around you and points at the door, “OUT!” he says sternly, his captain voice making an appearance.

The group of men start grumbling, but ultimately leaving your tent, zipping your door back up so you and Nico could have a bit of privacy again.

“Nico, you didn’t wake up,” you say, your voice muffled because of how close he’s holding you to his body.

“Sorry, Schatz. Was sleeping too good, I guess. Always happens when I’m sleeping with you. You’re like my own personal melatonin.”

You chuckle at him, not really mad that everyone found out, just wishing they hadn’t found you asleep together on a tiny air mattress.

“At least the boys know now. Now I don’t have to keep sneaking around at practice. I can stare at your ass loud and proud now,” Nico says, detaching himself from you and rolling over onto his back, rubbing his eyes.

You reach over and hit him in the chest. “This doesn’t give you permission to say innapropriate things to me while we’re at work.”

He rolls his head to look over at you, “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiles innocently, causing your to roll your own eyes and sigh at him.

“Hey! You guys better not be having sex in there! I’m implementing a no bone zone when I’m within a hundred feet of you two! Get your asses out here and get to explaining!” you heard Jack shout once again, beating his fist on the side of the tent.

You bring your hands up to cover your face, embarrassment flooding your veins.

“Jack! Suit up, you’re coming with me on a little run,” you hear coach shout, earning a “Shit, Nico this is your fault!” from Jack.

You burst into a fit of giggles.

You can’t help but feel like a weight has been lifted off of your chest, not having to lie to some of your closest friends anymore. You also foresee your week of no time with Nico changing slightly, figuring Jesper will be down a roommate for the remainder of the week.

Nothing, though, not even sharing a tent with Nico, or sneaking off to find open areas to gaze at the stars at night, could make you like camping.

You almost change your mind the night Nico takes you to a clearing, laying a blanket on the soft grass to stare up at the sky before he gifts you a necklace with his initial on it, the engraving on the back echoing the small “I love you” he whispers in your ear as he clasps the jewelry onto your neck.

You almost thought you liked camping then, until you walked back to you tent to find Nico had left it unzipped and a possum had made a home in the corner, hissing at him as you screamed loud enough to wake the whole team.

Yeah, you hate camping.

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imbecominggayer · 9 months ago

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How To Scare Your Readers

tw: mentions of murder and other horror media, its not specific or gorey but I just wanted to mention it

Today is one my hardest asks as it is a highly individual process to freaking out your audience with @differentnighttale asking: "How do you write horror, and how do you write it good nail biting and very unsettling type of horror."

Specifically, we are focusing on supernatural horror and dark fantasy. Due to the fact that there are numerous ways of scaring an audience, I'm going to focus on more diverse and interesting ways to freak out the readers. There are obvious tricks like "focus on the tactile senses" and stuff like that but let's cover something not as cliche!

Again, there are many ways to instill horror.

One: Combine Beauty And The Macabre

While this is a common trick seen in visual horror such as the works of Junji Ito or Midsommar, it's also an important and useful element in other beloved horror media.

This can be useful for a myriad of reasons.

The ability to combine the fantastical beauty of the scenery with death or the lovingly detailed imagery of a victimized body might be just the thing to elevate the scenery and visuals.

It also works to surprise your readers. If you are reading horror, you expect the murder and terror to appear in dark hospitals and obviously disgusting places. But what if the horror was in a cherry blossom field? In the church? In the character's childhood bedroom during the sunset?

It follows the perversion of the familiar. Most people internalize certain environments are seperated from society which might assist you if you are going for that specific type of horror. BUT! If you have horror in the supermarket, in the coziest little cottage, in the beauty.

TWO: Focus On A Specific Brand Of Horror

This is especially important for horror that is based off of pop culture spooks such as ghosts, ghouls, witches, zombies, and werewolfs.

Doing some research into why these monsters have survived in the public mind and what exactly is frightening abou them can influence your settings, characters, and horror.

There is horror about isolation.

There is horror about losing yourself.

There is horror about the female body.

There is horror about puberty.

There is horror about gender dysphoria.

There is horror about everything.

Decide what is the core fear you are proding at.

THREE: Be Ambiguous

Readers are comforted by linear stories with a beginning, clearly laid out morality, and a clear cut ending which provides either a happy ending or a sad ending.

Messing up any one of these things can lead to your story haunting the minds of your audience for a long time.

Midsommar is constantly debated about over if the ending is happy or sad.

Joker(2019), a thriller but not a horror, is infamous for it's amazing usage of hallucination and delusion to tell a non-linear story with a confusing ending.

Leaving the ending, villain, characters, or plot ambiguous and not clearly detailed might elevate your horror :)

FOUR: Use Your Own Fears

When you write about what scares you, that natural fear tends to radiate into your writing more naturally :)

This fear can be a lot of things from the specific phobia of bugs to the fear of being mistreated by a loved one.

Conclusion:

I hope I gave you some interesting advice that you haven't heard before @differentnighttale

p.s: at what point does something become "Mature"? I did mention "murder" throughout my post somewhat frequently but I never went into specific detail so I can't tell if it's "Mature" or not?

If it is mature and I mislabeled it then I can edit it to be "Mature"

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watermelonlovershigh · 16 days ago

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Pregnant at 40🫄👶🧑‍🍼

AN: i randomly thought about this scenario and played the whole thing out in my head, which lead me to typing it out. i hope you enjoy this story. let me know if you possibly want a part 2 to this. remember to reblog or comment with your feedback. xoxo

This story contains: mentions of a vasectomy, puke, brief mentions of abortions, crying, comfort, unexpected pregnancy

{ dadrry - husband!harry - softrry - au!harry both you and harry are almost 40 }

word count- 2,071

Just one month away from Harry's scheduled vasectomy, you start showing signs of pregnancy (at the age of 40), which leads to a day full of anxiety and anticipation until later that night when you're finally able to take a pregnancy test.

This was not supposed to happen. You've just celebrated the fifth birthday of your youngest daughter, Daisy, who's the baby of your family. In addition to her, you and your husband Harry are parents to three other children: June, who's sixteen; River, who's twelve; and Willow, who's eight.

You and Harry were content with having just four children, as that number suited your family dynamic perfectly. After the birth of Daisy, you didn't envision expanding your family further. Both you and Harry are nearing forty, making the risks of pregnancy complications for either you or a new baby more high.

Your commitment to having just four children led Harry to schedule a vasectomy for next month. He'd contemplated this procedure right after Daisy was born, but both of you wanted to be certain that it was the right decision to stop having more children. Since Daisy's arrival, you've been using birth control, but after reaching the bittersweet decision to stop expanding your family, Harry chose to proceed with a vasectomy, stressing how he didn't want you to be on birth control for the rest of your life.

Over the past few mornings, after Harry has gone to work, you've gotten sick. On the first day, you thought you might've been coming down with a stomach bug that one of your kids had brought home from school. However, after getting sick twice more the following two days, your worrying intensified.

You intended to keep your recent vomiting episodes from Harry, but one morning, when you thought he'd already left for work, he quietly comes back into the bedroom to retrieve his Apple Watch. That's when he finds you not in the bed where you were minutes prior, but instead in the bathroom, throwing up. He hurries in to assist you, visibly worried about your health, and also thinking you might have caught a stomach virus. Yet, when you disclose that you've been sick for the past three mornings, his entire body stiffens, and his complexion becomes nearly as pale as yours.

"Baby," Harry whispers behind you as you brush your teeth at the bathroom sink, "do you um......think that maybe.........you should take a, you know, pregnancy test." Now it's your body that stiffening up. Oddly enough, the idea of being pregnant hasn't occurred to you yet, despite the fact that it seems it should have, as you consistently dealt with morning sickness during the early stages of your past pregnancies.

You glance up at Harry through the mirror with horror written across your face. "Harry," you meekly whisper with tears coming to your eyes, "I......., I...., I can't be *harsh swollow* pregnant. Oh my god, Harry, we turn forty next year. I..... I take my birth control everyday, and you're getting the vasectomy next month, but...., but what if? Oh my god."

Once you've placed your toothbrush down, Harry gently turns you around so you can become face to face with him without the mirror interfering. "Baby, calm down, everythin's gonna be alright. M' not sayin' you are pregnant. We don't know until you take a test. You may just have a lil tummy bug. But if you are pregnant, we'll go from there. You know you always have options."

"Harry, you know I could never." you say, regarding his last sentence. You fully support the right to abortion; however, on a personal level, you believe that unless it's medically necessary, you'd struggle to make that choice for yourself. In the event of an unplanned pregnancy, you'll be determined to find a way to manage life with a new baby. Having successfully navigated this situation four times previously, you're confident in your ability to do so again. Although, having a baby at the age of forty is not your preferred scenario.

Gazing at you with sincerity, Harry softly states, "I know sweetheart, but I want you to understand that if you ever came to that conclusion, the decision is entirely yours." He leans in to give you a gentle kiss on the lips, even though you've just recovered from being sick (you did at least brush your teeth), then withdraws and adds, "Would you prefer that I go to the store now to get a test, or should I wait 'til after work? I don’t mind being late this mornin'. This is much more important."

Standing there for a moment, you weigh your choices. You are eager to find out if you're pregnant, to put your mind at ease regarding the uncertainties. However, you realize that taking the test now might not give you the time you need to process the results, particularly if they're positive, and to have a proper conversation with Harry about it. You doubt you'd have the luxury of time if you took the test this morning.

"I can wait until you get home this evening."

"You sure?" Harry questions carefully. He knows how your brain works and knows your brain will be worked up all day if you wait.

You nod with conformation, "Yeah, I'm sure. If it is positive, I want us to be able to process the news afterwards and we'd only have time for that after the kids are in bed for the night. So I can wait."

Harry bends down slightly to wrap his arms around you, holding you securely. "Okay, but if you need anythin' today, please call me. I'll keep m'phone on me all day. And remember, no matter what the test results are tonight, everythin' will be alright. We've been together for almost twenty-two years and there's nothin' we can't handle together."

Harry leaves for work soon after the embrace and you exit the bathroom, ready to get your kids up for school, even though exhaustion is seeping into your bones and you've only been up for about an hour.

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

Throughout his the day at work, Harry couldn't shake the thought of you from his mind, particularly regarding the situation that arose this morning. The possibility of you being pregnant fills him with both joy and apprehension. While many people have children later in life, the idea of becoming a father at forty worries him; he imagines being gray and elderly by the time the child finishes school. Nevertheless, he's confident that he would love a new baby unconditionally, just as he's done with his four existing children.

After Harry wrapped up his workday, he drove to the shops located near your house to buy a pregnancy test. Once he had it in hand, he made sure to hide it within his work briefcase, fully aware that if his eldest daughter, June, came across it, she would have a multitude of questions for them. He'd rather she not discover the possibility of her mother being pregnant in such a manner.

Harry gets home a little later than normal and hurriedly goes upstairs to put away the pregnancy test until you're ready to use it tonight. Afterward, he comes back down to enjoy some family time with the kids while you wrap up dinner.

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

Once dinner has been ate, baths have been given, and the little ones are all snug in their beds, you and Harry finally enter the bathroom to do what you've been eagerly awaiting to do all day. While the kids were at school, you had to suppress the desire to go to the store and buy a test just to get it over with. However, you remembered that you and Harry had decided to do this together, tonight.

"Do you want me to step out or..." Harry goes to ask, but is cut off by you saying, "No, please stay." Though you've been married for many years, Harry still likes to ask if you want privacy for certain things; taking pregnancy tests, changing tampons, pooping, just out of respect, but you don't want to be alone right now.

"Okay baby, I'll stay. Everythin's gonna be alright." You take a seat on the toilet as Harry opens the box containing the pregnancy test. He walks over to you, hands you the test, and then quickly returns the box to the drawer to prevent any evidence from being found in the trash can. You take off the cap of the test and begin peeing on the stick, while Harry leans against the bathroom counter, patiently waiting.

Once you've finished, you secure the cap back on the pregnancy test and hand it to Harry while you wipe and flush the toilet. He places it on the counter and starts a timer on his phone. When you walk over to him, he leans down slightly and wraps his arms around you, offering a warm and comforting hug. "I’m really nervous," you whisper into his shoulder.

"It’s okay, m'love. If it turns out to be positive, think of it like this: we are healthy people with a comfortable income and a lovin' family. This means we're in a fortunate position to welcome a new life, somethin' that many families don't have the luxury of." This is one of the reasons you love Harry so much. He consistently focuses on the positives, even in less than ideal circumstances, because that's just the type of person he is.

You remain in his arms until the timer goes off, and then you request Harry to check the test, feeling too anxious to look yourself. Once he silences the alarm, Harry takes a deep breath to prepare for the results, then picks up the pregnancy test from the countertop and turns it over. A gasp escapes his lips, followed by a quiet sob that rises from his chest.

Finally finding the courage, you raise your head from his shoulder to see the digital screen displaying the word "positive." Harry, with shaky hands, swiftly sets the test down and pulls you into an even tighter embrace. You're caught in a blend of shock and emotional chaos; your body feels stiff, while your chest quakes with a sob. In the bathroom, you both stand together, wrapped in each other's arms, crying. It’s hard to tell if your tears are those of happiness or fear.

You allow yourselves to break down for a couple of minutes, before you decide to speak first. "Harry, we're having another baby."

At first, he's uncertain if you're feeling happy or upset, but a single look at your face indicates that happiness is the stronger emotion. Although the situation isn't perfect, what's done is done, and acceptance is important. "Fuck, Y/n. We're havin' another lil' baby."

With an emotional giggle, you look up and question Harry, needing to know where he stands on the matter. "Are you happy though?"

With tears glistening in his green eyes, he nods and responds, "M' so fuckin' happy, m'love." He gently places a hand on your cheek, cradling your jaw, and leans in to kiss you. You gasp momentarily, but quickly find comfort in his presence.

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

Eventually, Harry proposed that you shower together, and you accepted the offer. He assisted you in taking off your clothing and led you into the steamy glass doors. His intentions weren't sexual; he just wanted to be near you, to hold you, and to kneel and kiss your belly, even though at this point it looked normal and nothing more than a small bloat, if that.

After holding each other under the cascading water for a few minutes, Harry helped you wash your hair and body before he washed himself. He then assisted you in stepping out of the shower, and the both of you dried off before standing at the sink to brush your teeth. That was pretty much the only part of tonight that he didn't help you with.

Because once you'd finished brushing your teeth, he helped you dress in a pair of panties and one of his oversized t-shirts. He then helped you settle into bed. Due to your mental and physical fatigue from the day, sleep came easily once you were both tucked under the covers. The only worry you have now is how you'll break the news to your children and families.

Pregnant at 40..... At least your family will know that even after all these years, the two of you still love each other and get intimate in that aspect. Many couples your age either don't last that long or their sex drive plumits. But obviously not with the two of you.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(if you want to be apart of my new tag list, let me know right here !! some people who've requested to be added doesn't allow me to @ you. please check your settings first.)

taglist: @swiftmendeshoran // @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite // @hsonlyangelxo // @lunabai // @ppleasingg // @harryscherrysugar // @devilsqueen722 // @mema10 // @harryswifee // @jewelaponte // @fruity-harry // @triski73 // @chronicallybubbly // @prettygurl-2009 // @sincerely-yours-marsbar // @ilovezaynmalik08

My Masterlist Masterpost

#harry styles #harry styles fan fiction #fan fiction #dadrry #dad!harry #husbandrry #husband!harry #softrry #soft!harry #harry styles pregnancy #pregnancy #harry x reader #harry styles sickfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot

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paranoiddreams · 6 months ago

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Boyfriend Sukuna! (HC)

𖤓 Sukuna x gn!reader

𖤓 Warnings!! - explicit language, mentions of killing and crime in general lol, general filthiness in a few of them bc it’s Sukuna, a hint of toxicity 😜,

𖤓 A/n!! - gonna make this a series, I think I’m gonna do either Satoru or Toji next, lmk what you guys think :3

- He LOOOOVES a good argument, especially if it’s escalated to a screaming match

- Only because it turns him on so much when someone has the BALLS to speak up to him.

- He’s a very physical person, so expect to be bit, squeezed, yanked, or picked up by this monster of a man at any time of the day.

- Speaking of, he’s a tough-strong-killer during the day, and a cuddle bug at night. But not like you’re thinking. I’m talking full on manhandling you into a fetal position on his chest so he can wrap all of his arms around you.

- Definitely the type of guy who always has to have some sort of physical contact with you at all times. Whether it’s an arm around your waist, or your hand wrapped around his pinky, he needs to feel that you’re right next to him.

- He’s not going to apologize, at least verbally. So don’t expect those two words. But, do expect the most lavish dresses/suits, jewelry, food fit for a whole Royal family, and good ass sex.

- If we’re talking Heian!Sukuna, he’s going to use 80% of his money on custom tailored fancy silk clothing in all colors and designs for you. He’ll have the royal tailor come every other week to measure you and get all of your requests, and then a day later the softest, most beautifully made clothes come in fancy boxes.

- And if we’re talking Modern!Sukuna, I feel like he’d make a good income on killing, stealing, and finessing people (lmao) so he’ll use most of that on shit for you. Even the most girly, cutesy, hello-kitty-esque things, he’ll just grimace and shove the cash in your hands (bc I see this man using ONLY cash). Although, this takes a while for him since I feel he’s more cautious in modern times with everyone, including you at first.

- Speaking of, he knows your body like the back of his four hands babe. He knows because he’s dedicated most of his time to making you cum I’m so many different ways, seeing which feels the best for you. Sometimes, he’ll use the more torturous, slow methods, but when you’re being a brat, he’ll use the quickest methods to draw the most orgasms out of you that he can🤧

- Has literally said: “The two things I have dedicated myself to the most in life is bloodshed and pleasuring you.”

- Does he call you “woman” constantly? Yes. Does it cause little arguments from time to time? Absolutely. But you’ve upgraded to a few “babe”s and “Love”s from time to time!😄

- Sukuna realized he was in love with you when he realized in a moment of intimacy that life is just so much easier with you. He’s always detested the thought of being “chained down” or “settling down” with someone, but with you, that thought doesn’t even cross his mind.

- Enough with that SAPPY SHIT—he fully does not understand your Five Nights at Freddy’s obsession. All he knows is it’s a horror video game, and whenever you hear someone bring it up you start freaking out.

- But he mayhaps have watched a full 2 hour video essay about the lore on YouTube one night to humor you🙏🏻

- He is the embodiment of one sided enemies to lovers. Like you’re fully down for his monstrous ass, but he’s over here beefing with you in his head 😭

- It’s only bc he knew it was all over the moment he heard your voice😞

- This man is lowkey a stalker, but you’re chill with it. He’s always got his eyes on you, and his heightened senses allow him to smell and feel you from miles away.

- If he’s not physically around, he has his “connections” as he calls them. They’re mainly local criminals and homeless people he pays to keep an eye on you (check out this post by @emphistic to hear more on this concept!!)

- Overall toxicity scale: 9 Sukuna fingers out of 20. If we’re being generous (˶˃⤙˂˶)

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corrupted-ciphers · 2 months ago

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Thought this would be a fun project to work on! I <3 weird women. My thoughts on each of the characters below the cut. Version without names added below the cut as well.

Current Favorite: I love Junebug, she's been my blorbo recently, she's really weird. I love her. As I started this project though, I also started playing ENA Dream BBQ. I've been waiting for it for four years now, and damn was it worth the wait. It's a surreal game about ENA's adventures to find the b̷̸̸̡̧͇̜͎͙͙̥̥͚̫̪̩̩̏͑ͩ̓̇ͪ̋̑ͧ̂̃͊͋͘͝͡͝ͅ_̗̖͕͉̻ͯ̍̒ͤ̊́a̢͉̺̫̙̳͓̣��͔̙̻̔͑̿͛͛̀̽͒̂̒ţ̡̧̼͙̰̥̳̹̻̍ͫ͋̌̏ͮͣ́̔ͯ͊̇ͤͪ͐̿̉ͫͨͧḩ̷̧̡̛̞̩̹͙̱͍̯͇͉̪̫̹̭͙̭͉͚ͬͯ̄̄͗ͯ̅̐̀́ͯ̈́͂̇͆̾͂͘͘͢͠r̾̆͢_̽̆ơ̶̸̡̡̛̠̥͓͔̪̲̥̥̱͙̲̲̫̖̽̊̎̎͒͊̅̔͐̄̈́̓̈́͊ͩ̂̋͘ͅȍ̶̢̙͕͍̰͓̖͉̼ͯ͆ͮͩ̓ͭͭ͑̿́́͢͝͠m̵̧̛̗͉͔̯̦͙̟̼̲̜̫̱͊͋̀̊͊ͯͤͬ͆ͭ̽̃̄̔̋̾͞. Chapter 1 is out now and free to play on Steam right now, and I highly recommend it! Anyway, Junebug is my girl, I love her.

Comfort: Okay, I know the reception ch 4 of Poppy Playtime has been receiving. Do I think chapter 4 is scary? No. Do I think it's good? Also no. Do I think it's hilarious? Hell yes I do. We got several game breaking bugs that were honestly rather amusing, and also the devs letting you move around in Doey's monologues is honestly the funniest decision they made. You can clip into him and let him just eat your head mid talk. He'll also fling you if you stand on his limbs while he talks, it's great. We nearly got killed by him flinging us under the pipe in that one section where he gets froze. Having said all that bad stuff, I love Doey. Okay, there's a lot going on in my life right now, and he came along in the middle of that. As the older sister to three little brothers, I relate to Doey in multiple ways. He is me, he is my brothers, and I just want to give him a big hug himself. I too am trying desperately to pick up the pieces of our home life collapsing around us, while trying to keep my little brothers happy and managing my own angry outbursts. It was a (in my opinion) jankily written scene, but the bit where Doey was torn up over Safe Haven getting destroyed really got to me. It was probably tied to the emotional state I was in when I played the chapter, but damn, I get it man. I too failed to protect those around me from what I knew was inevitable but selfishly pushed to the back of my mind. Damn, I really was made to hurt things and fuck up too bud. I get it. And in a lore perspective, Doey is three little boys mashed together. I have three little brothers, need I say more about that? This character has consumed my life, and I just want to give him a hug. Although honestly his in-game model is a little oily looking tbh. Also Michael Kovach knocked it out of the park with his performance here. Also also, fuck you devs for making us squish/kill Doey in the end. If he's actually dead I'm gonna be so mad at you guys.

By Design: Look man, I like women. I like murderous women. I mean, when I first saw the original Alice, I was still a child and wasn't pan yet, but like, she likely contributed. hnnnrg, girls.

By Plot: Unlike Doey who brings me comfort when I relate to him and kicks in my material instincts towards anyone even remotely younger than me, Jupe's relation to me does not bring me comfort. Instead my connection to Jupe is more uneasy. Ricky and I both express our traumas in similar ways. That is to say monetize them and put them on display for all the entitled voyuers out there on the internet for attention. Now, I'm obviously not someone who was a victim of a chimp attack, but there's that familiar death of childhood there. I've grown up with an abusive father, which I didn't realize the extent of until this divorce is going through. And guess what my most prominent stories feature? yeah. I'm also the type of person to build a shrine to my trauma like him. While Ricky's is obviously a little more extreme, I still have my hospital bracelet from my appendectomy. That is not a normal response. I wear my first dog's tag on a chain, and when it's not worn it's next to that hospital band. Most of my stories involve my internal or external traumas in some way, just like Jupe capitalized on the exploitive movies and shows he was roped into as a child. I'm white, but I'm a woman and I'm queer. I get being the token item. Reduced to stereotypes. Forced to uphold other stereotypes in a never ending cycle of wanting to be on top, of vainly hoping that others will finally accept you into their group. But they won't. Jupe's storyline makes me viscerally uncomfortable, but my favorite part is the end. Just before Jean Jacket eats him, we see his lips twist into a smile. Faint, but there. Because finally, for the first time in his life, Ricky isn't defined by what groups he's part of, he's not vying for anyone's attention, he's not this special chosen one because he survived all those years ago, he's just like everyone else. He's merely food for that creature. And that is a freeing feeling. Finally, something has accepted him the way he is, with no fighting, no tense acceptance into a world that could throw you away at any time, he's finally safe. And for that, I think he loves Jean Jacket. Because I know, there's parts of me that wish the same. A release from the responsibility, and freakish nature of myself since I'm so different than those around me. If Doey is my comfort character, Ricky "Jupe" Park is my discomfort character. (In a good way)

Guilty Favorite: Look man, she's weird as fuck. She also saved my nightmare mode run. Again, I love weird women. Choo Choo Charles is great because it knows its lane and sticks to it. It knows it's a goofy ass train spider game, and it sure does deliver on that premise. Pickle Lady is so bizarre, I love her. I can't help but love her. Is she a good character? No. Do I like her anyway? Yeah.

All Time Favorite: DO I even need to say much about this guy? It's FNAF. It's toilet Bonnie. It's the boy. I love him. My favorite animatronic since I was like 12. Hell yeah dude, let's keep it up.

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nadvs · 8 months ago

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out of bounds (part six)

pairing zach maclaren and soccerplayer! female reader

rating mature 18+ for smut

summary zach has never been the type to rebel, but when he meets you at a soccer camp where you’re both working as counselors, which has a strict policy against dating between staff, he’s tempted to break the rules for the first time.

» part one | two | three | four | five

» masterlist

Every made-up explanation you can think of won’t cut it. Nothing you say will be believable. You’ve been found out.

“They’re bug bites?” you say weakly, pulling up your shirt so the hickeys aren’t in clear view anymore. Ami laughs, shaking her head.

“I knew you and Zach were a thing,” she says. “Why didn’t you just tell me? I wouldn’t judge. You know that I’m breaking the rules, too.”

You sigh, dropping back into your bed.

“We really don’t want it getting around,” you say.

“Then you should be more careful about where you let bugs bite you,” she laughs.

“Ami,” you groan, half-chuckling. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t. You can trust me,” she says. “When did this start?”

You sit back up and give her surface details, recapping when you two kissed by the lake, then tried and failed to wait until after the season to pursue anything.

“Have you guys…” she asks with raised brows. Your cheeks burn.

“Last night,” you admit. Your stomach goes numb at the memory. “But seriously, you can’t mention it to anyone. If people find out and he gets fired, it’d crush him.”

The amusement in Ami’s eyes fades, replaced with compassion.

“Wow. You’re really worried, huh?” she says.

“He’s the sweetest guy I’ve ever met. I don’t want him to get in trouble,” you reply. “We decided today that we’ll keep things on hold. For real this time.”

“Can you keep it on hold?” she asks. “I don’t know about you, but it being forbidden makes it ten times hotter.”

You shrug. You’re unsure if you’d be doing this much this fast with Zach if you met outside of work, and he did tell you last night that he never moves this quickly with a girl.

“I’m going to have to try,” you say. Zach’s hard to resist, but for his sake, you don’t want to give in.

“Fair,” Ami sighs. “I knew it, though. Malcolm called me crazy.”

“You talked about it with him?”

“Yeah, the night you went shopping,” she says. “I said that I think there’s something there and Malcolm was like, I can tell he likes her, but there’s no way he’d break the rules. I wish I could rub it in his face.”

You shoot her a look.

“But I won’t,” she promises. You nod gratefully.

“He can tell he likes me?” you ask.

“He said when you’re around, Zach smiles way more than usual,” she recalls, “which is already a lot to begin with, apparently.”

Your heart flutters. Zach is already such a cheerful person, so to think you make him even happier, and very obviously at that, is flattering.

“I guess Malcolm would know since they’ve been best friends for so long,” you say.

“Yeah,” Ami agrees. “He actually…”

She chuckles.

“What?”

“He was randomly talking about Zach the other day,” Ami continues, “and he said that he treats every girlfriend like he’s gonna marry her. I guess he’s a hopeless romantic, so I hope you’re prepared for that.”

You chuckle, wholeheartedly believing it. Zach is sweet and sensitive and while you didn’t doubt his sincerity for a second, hearing that he’s not one for flings is a relief. Because you want so much more with him.

“Good to know,” you reply. “And you and Malcolm are still keeping things casual or…?”

“I don’t know,” she says with a hopeful smile. “But if it gets more serious, I wouldn’t be mad about it or anything.”

You laugh together and finally, you allow yourself to gush about the man who’s thrown you for such an unexpected loop. It feels nice to not have to keep it in anymore.

You’re relieved when Saturday rolls around. Even though fun days at camp are just as busy, you welcome a break from running training drills.

After breakfast in the dining hall, Ruby announces to the campers to prepare for a morning of hiking, an afternoon of swimming, and a camp-wide relay race before dinner.

The sky is cloudy, but the chance of rain is low, so you stay optimistic that you won’t be forced to spend the day inside.

You quickly realize it’s not going to be as easy to keep your distance from Zach today, because you’re put in a hiking group with him.

As you set out on the trail with your cohorts of campers, their chatter loud over the sounds of shoes crunching over the dirt and birds chirping in the sky, Zach leads the crowd under towering trees that line the perimeter of the campground.

It’s only been a couple of days since you spoke with him about cooling things down, but not talking how you used to has been disheartening. Neither of you have been scheming to find ways to be alone like you used to, settling for friendly conversations whenever your paths cross.

“We’ll get a pretty cool view at the midpoint,” Zach says loudly to the campers, turning back. He meets your eyes for a second, a small smile flashing on his face, before he looks ahead again.

You wonder if he took your words as you suggesting you two shouldn’t talk at all, when that’s far from the truth.

You make conversation with your campers while you hike, and when you reach the height of a steep trail, you approach Zach as he looks out at the view of lush forestland.

“Hi,” you say quietly. His eyebrows raise when he sees you, like he’s surprised you’re speaking to him. It’s your first moment out of earshot from others in too long.

“Hey,” he says.

“You know, I didn’t mean we can’t talk at all,” you say with a soft laugh.

The pang of rejection has been burrowed in Zach’s chest since your last private conversation. He’s hardly ever one for overthinking, but since you came into his life, all he does is mull over everything you do and say to him, anxious that you don’t like him as much as he likes you.

But now, as he gets lost in the softness in your gaze, he realizes what an idiot he is for worrying that you don’t also think that what you have is special.

He needs to remind himself that you’re just being careful. Not rejecting him. He shoves down the prickly feeling and smiles at you.

“I thought I wasn’t even allowed to look at you,” he jokes to dismiss his uneasiness.

“Stop,” you chuckle. “How’ve you been?”

Zach’s blue eyes dart over his shoulder, his lips flattening.

“I miss you,” he half-whispers.

You tilt your head as you gaze up at him, your lips in an endeared frown. You’ve gotten used to there always being a sense of a playful smirk on his face, a look of mischief in his eyes, but right now, he’s completely doleful.

“I miss you, too,” you say. “Forcing each other into the friend-zone sucks.”

Zach laughs, his heart warming.

“No kidding,” he says. At this point, he just needs to get through a few more weeks as just your friend. It feels like forever, but he’ll get through it.

After lunch, counselors work together to set up for an afternoon by the lake, handing campers life jackets and inflating water toys.

After set-up, you stand on the dock, shades shielding your eyes now that the sun has peeked out from behind fluffy clouds.

You look out at the beautiful water, surrounded by campers talking and laughing, feeling that calming sense of being where you’re meant to be. Even though the days are tiring and the kids can be difficult, you’re so glad you came here.

You hear Zach’s familiar voice as he chats and walks past you, followed by two boys. He leans down to grip the edge of the empty canoe bobbing in the water on the dockside, gently reminding them to enter the boat slowly.

You can tell he’s been running around tirelessly, his lips parted as he pants, sweat sheening his skin.

When he stands to collect the ore, he quickly lifts the bottom of his shirt up to wipe his forehead, giving you a glimpse of his chiseled body. You’re glad you’re wearing shades because you can’t take your eyes off of him.

You clasp your hands together, your body rushing with heat as you remember what happened a few nights ago. How taut his body looked when you were on top of him. The way he breathed and moaned when you slowly sank onto him.

You force yourself to look away. Seeing him like that and knowing you can’t have him is only making things harder.

A couple of hours later, the relay race is underway on the north soccer field. You’re standing at the touchline on your own, stationed to hand out water and snacks to any campers or staff who need it.

Your stomach goes wild with butterflies when Zach makes his way towards you, offering you a charming grin as he pushes his sunglasses up to rest on his head.

“No way,” he says when he approaches, squinting, his voice low. “You got the easy job.“

“Rude. It’s actually way harder than it looks,” you reply.

“Standing there looking pretty is hard?”

“Very,” you say, his compliment making you a little lightheaded. You mirror him, perching your sunglasses up.

“I don’t believe it.”

Zach opens the cooler, not giving you a chance to get a drink for him. He collects a water bottle and unscrews the cap.

“You remember when you told me I can’t look at you a certain way when we’re at work?” you say, pushing the lid of the cooler shut.

He smirks, tipping his head back as he gulps down water. You’re gazing at him like that now, your stare hard on him. It’s addictive being on the receiving end of that look. It makes him feel like he’s floating.

“Yeah, and it still stands,” he nods. “So, stop it.”

“I’m not even…” you scoff, crossing your arms. “I have a rule for you, too. You can’t lift up your shirt when I’m around.”

“What? When did I do that?”

“By the lake. And I don’t appreciate it.”

“Why not?” he chuckles.

“Just stop,” you flirt with a roll of your eyes.

“I need a reason.” By the smug smirk on his face, you can tell he already knows. Because he’s so cute, you give in.

“It’s hard not to stare,” you say. “And we’re not supposed to stare at each other.”

The flattered look you’ve quickly grown to love flashes on his face.

“Oh, you mean when I get hot?” he teases. “I can’t control the sun.”

“Zach,” you warn. He says your name with the same teasing tone.

“I’m serious,” you say.

“So am I,” he laughs.

You shake your head at him when he lifts up the bottom of his shirt to wipe the water off his lips. His eyes stay locked on your expression as yours drift down the cut of his abs.

Zach’s entire body buzzes when you look at him like that. He so deeply loves feeling wanted by you.

“You just don’t listen,” you mumble, taking your eyes off of him. He chuckles, letting his shirt fall back down.

“Come on, baby, it’s my fault it’s hot out?” he murmurs.

You can’t stifle your grin. Maybe he technically shouldn’t call you that if you’re pretending to be friends, but nobody can hear, and you love when he’s sweet like that.

“Everything’s your fault,” you say.

Zach winks at you before he turns to rush back to the game. It’s the type of silly banter that made you develop a crush on him so fast, and you’re glad you can at least flirt if you’re not going to sneak around anymore.

After the relay race, Tom reminds the campers that in a week and a half, you’ll be hitting the midpoint of the camp season, and as tradition goes, a staff soccer game will be held.

Even though it’s just a no-stakes match at camp to give the kids a fun chance to cheer on their counselors, you feel nerves twist in your stomach at the reminder.

Despite the fact that your love for soccer has slowly been finding its way back to you, your confidence still isn’t quite where you want it. And your instinct is to talk to Zach about it, to be comforted by the one person you’re trying to stay away from.

As you settle at your table for dinner that evening, you look for him in the crowd. He’s sitting at the head of his usual table, laughing in conversation. When he meets your eyes, you give him a smile. He returns it.

That evening after lights out, you’re lying in bed scrolling on your phone while Ami watches something on her laptop when you realize the nagging desire to see Zach is only getting harder to ignore.

You’ve also been considering telling him that your cabin-mate knows about him. It may just serve to worry him, but it feels wrong keeping something from him.

The way he looked on the hike when he said he missed you is stuck in your head. You miss him, too. As if you haven’t seen him in weeks.

It feels silly to keep your distance. You’re being too careful. You’re sure you can manage to hang out and keep your hands off of each other.

You hung out platonically before. Why can’t you do it again? There’s no rules against that. In fact, being friends is encouraged. You open your text conversation with Zach.

When Zach steps out of his cabin into the brisk air that night, he looks up at the sky to see he can hardly spot any stars. The air is thick with the threat of rain, but it’s stubborn, refusing to fall.

He heads out to the dock, sitting on the cool surface, his phone in his hand. Malcolm already fell asleep, so he decided to take his call outside to not wake him.

It’s never easy for him to be away from his family for very long. He appreciates checking in every so often, making sure his parents are doing okay, hearing how his sister’s summer is going.

As he catches up with them during the video call, at one point, his dad asks his mom where his glasses are and when she points off screen and his dad thanks her with a kiss to her temple, the simple, passing moment is a reminder to Zach of how loving his parents’ marriage is.

He grew up knowing that his mom and dad adore each other, that they believe they’re meant to be together. It’s fun to act grossed out by their affection, but in reality, he admires them. He’s never wanted to settle for less in a relationship.

Zach has always desired to be surrounded by love and approval. He’s sure his heart will never fully heal after his childhood, but when he knows he’s around people who like him, that wound feels much smaller.

And the way you accept him for everything that he is, never once looking at him with judgement, unconditionally offering compassion, gives him a sense of being complete, of that wound actually being gone. He hasn’t ever felt that before.

He looks out at the dark water, breathing slowly. He’s always thought of himself as an optimistic person, so it’s uncomfortable to be wallowing over his circumstances with you this much.

He forces himself to see the bright side. He may be facing weeks of not being able to be with you the way he wants to, but when the camp season wraps up and he goes back to his normal life, you won’t be living under any of these rules.

He’ll take you out on dates. He’ll hold your hand in public. And hopefully, you’ll still like him enough that he can introduce you to his family and officially be your boyfriend.

At that moment, his phone buzzes with a text. It’s you. havent worked on my defense in a while... do you have time to help a friend practice?

He grins, feeling the tension in his body dissipate.

You agree to meet on the field farthest from the staff cabins, positioned at the far edge of the campground. When you approach the pitch, Zach’s practicing kick-ups by the net under the bright moon.

“Show-off,” you say once you’re close enough. He looks up to see you, letting the ball roll away. His smile fades once he sees your bare arms under your t-shirt.

“Aren’t you cold?” he asks.

“No.” His concern remains etched on his face, quickly unzipping his hoodie and stepping closer.

“I’m fine,” you laugh, unsuccessfully protesting as he drapes his hoodie over your shoulders.

“Now you are,” he says, looking down at you with a relieved smile. He leans down to leave a chaste kiss on your cheek, then quickly pulls back.

“Sorry,” he says. “Not allowed.”

You chuckle, looking around into the silent darkness surrounding you.

“I think we can get away with it here,” you tell him. “But I figured if anyone sees us, we’re just two coworkers innocently practicing for the game.”

“I ever tell you you’re a genius?” he asks, cocking his head, his eyes trailing down your face.

“Don’t think so,” you reply.

“Well, you are,” he says.

“Thanks, baby.”

“Okay, you can’t call me that and not expect to be kissed,” he murmurs, cupping your jaw with his cool palm. He leans down to kiss you, slow, his lips just barely parting.

“We still have to be careful,” you sigh amusedly when he pulls away. “Let’s practice.“

“Right,” he says. “As friends.”

“As friends.”

Zach smirks, rushing to get the ball as you stand in front of the net, stretching to warm up your legs.

“How was your day?” he asks once he stands a few feet across from you, gently kicking the ball to you. “Barely broke a sweat, huh?”

You trap the ball below your foot with a gasp.

“What’s that mean?”

“You’re still gonna pretend standing next to a cooler is hard?” he asks.

You laugh and kick the ball with unexpected force, watching him dramatically dodge it as it whirls past him.

“Whoa, you mad or something?” he laughs.

“I don’t need your attitude or your hoodie,” you tease, pulling the sleeves off.

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he relents, laughing harder. “Please put it back on.”

You roll your eyes and comply, loving how soft his sweater feels on your skin, loving how much it smells like him.

“Just go get the ball,” you say in resignation, a smile pulling at your lips.

“Yes, ma’am,” Zach replies.

You watch him jog towards the center line, expertly dribbling the ball when he reaches it. He comes forward and stops a few feet away from you.

“Hey, I have something to tell you,” you say. The guilt weighs even heavier on you when you see the worry in his gaze.

“What?”

“Ami knows about us,” you confess. “She saw my hickeys the other day and I couldn’t think of a lie fast enough. She promised she wouldn’t tell anyone. I’m sorry.”

His heart aches when he hears the distress in your voice.

“You’re sorry?” he says. “I’m the one who left them.”

You breathe out a chuckle, tugging at the sleeves of his sweater over your knuckles.

“You can be upset with me,” you mumble. “I know you didn’t want anyone knowing.”

“I’m not upset,” he replies. “It’s okay.”

“Really?” you ask.

Truthfully, hearing that someone else knows about you two makes him tense. It increases the risk of being found out, of disappointing his family, of ruining his reputation. But he can’t bear to make you feel any worse.

“Yeah. Don’t worry about it,” Zach says, keen to push past the topic. He kicks the ball to you. “So, your day?”

“It was good,” you say. “The hike was nice. But thinking about the staff game made me nervous. I guess I’m still not all that confident yet.”

“And you came to the best for help,” he says. You kick the ball back, laughing softly.

“I did.”

“You’ll get into your stride again,” Zach tells you. “I wasn’t just trying to flatter you the first night. You’re a really good defender. Honest.”

“Thank you,” you say, stopping the ball when he kicks it to you again. This is exactly why you wanted to come to him. He consoles you so effortlessly, already making the nerves unravel. “How was your day?”

“Good,” he says. “I actually just got off the phone with my family when you texted.”

“How are they?”

“Falling apart without me,” he answers sarcastically. “My sister was saying my dad doesn’t do monster checks right.”

“I’m sorry, what’s a monster check?” you laugh.

“A check for monsters, obviously,” he replies. “I’m usually the one that scouts out Avery’s room before bed, but since I’m not home, my dad’s in charge. And his heart’s just not in it.”

“That is not something to slack on,” you play along.

“Right?” he says. “I couldn’t live with myself knowing a monster might’ve flown under the radar.”

You laugh again, touched by how sweet of a big brother he is. You kick the ball to him and start training together.

It’s been just under ten minutes of practice when you feel a cool raindrop on your cheek. Zach’s towering over you, your legs brushing as he tries to gain possession of the ball, when you freeze and look up.

“I just felt rain,” you say, gently panting. He takes the opportunity to gaze at you as you stare up at the night sky, the moonlight washing your pretty face in its glow.

You lower your gaze to meet his eyes, revelling in the feeling of him looking at you like that, like you’re the only girl that exists. It reminds you of the way he stared at you when you met, needing you to repeat yourself because he was too out of it to pay attention to your words.

“Zach,” you giggle. “It’s raining. We should go.”

In that moment, he feels a raindrop on his head.

“Oh. Yeah,” he says. He bends to pick up the soccer ball, dreading how long the walk back to the staff cabins is.

You rush off the field, letting him grab your hand, enveloped in the darkness of the night. Drops of rain start to hammer down within seconds, cold moisture covering your clothes.

“Shit,” Zach chuckles, running faster, pulling you forward. “We won’t make it.”

You’re both laughing breathlessly when you run into the closest storage shed, shutting the door behind you, clothes sticking to you.

When Zach stumbles over something in the dark with a grunt, you laugh even harder, asking him if he’s okay between your cackles.

“I could have broken something,” he says, pretending he’s insulted, “and you’re laughing.”

You feel for him in the dark, cupping his bare forearms as he stumbles over the disorganized supplies scattered on the floor.

“Are you okay?” you repeat, facing him, trying to make out his features in the dark.

“Why don’t people ever clean up?” Zach complains. “It’s a safety hazard.”

“For the third time, are you okay?” you say amusedly. Your hands feel up his arms, cupping his face as the rain loudly drums on the roof.

“Yes,” he finally murmurs. He wishes it wasn’t so dark so that he could see you, but if he turned on the light, it’d be too easy for someone to notice.

“Good,” you whisper. You gently stroke his cheeks with your thumbs, feeling a bit of stubble over his jaw, his skin cool from the night air as he leans into your touch.

“That feels nice.” His voice is low and rough beneath the sound of pouring rain. You smile to yourself, adjusting to the dark, seeing that he shut his eyes.

“Then I’ll keep doing it,” you respond.

“You looked good out there,” he murmurs. “I mean, you’re skilled. You don’t have anything to worry about. You’re a solid soccer player.”

“So, to clarify, my playing looked good, but I didn’t?”

Zach lets out a tsk, finding your waist.

“Cut it out,” he scoffs. “You know how pretty you are.”

“I do?”

“Come on,” he mumbles. “Don’t even pretend to say bad things about yourself.”

“Or what?” you ask.

“I’ll cry. Is that what you want?”

You giggle, loving how easily he makes you laugh, feeling like you’ll be falling victim to your own impulses. And fast.

Cool down. You said you’d cool down. But there’s nothing cool about his lips pressing against yours when you pull him closer.

It’s only been a few days since you had a moment totally alone together, but when he kisses you with abandon, it’s like your body is getting its first drop of water after being parched.

As your kisses grow hungrier, Zach’s body melts into pure contentment. It’s perfect how you fit into each other, how his mind goes completely blank when he holds you, letting him ease into the bliss of your touch.

Your lips brush and your tongues graze and your breaths catch as you kiss, his grip on your waist tightening as your palms press on his cheeks.

“We’re bad at this,” you whisper when your lips part. “We’re bad at staying away from each other.”

“I’m okay with that,” Zach rasps, pulling you in tight, his body curving into yours.

You’re in a fog as you continue to make out, surrounded by him, listening to your shallow breaths and the heavy rain.

Your knees are weak by the time you pull away from each other, the roar of rain now reduced to calm droplets.

“What now?” Zach breathes. He needs to know if he’s going to go through the agony of not sneaking around with you anymore.

Every inch of his skin tingles with warmth. He wishes he could just lie down with you, not because he needs anything sexual, but because he hates the thought of saying goodnight and parting ways.

“I don’t know,” you reply. “I don’t like not kissing you. But I don’t like getting fired, either.”

Despite himself, he smirks, dipping his head to pull you into a hug and bury his face in the crook of your neck. You drape your arms around his broad shoulders, shutting your eyes as he squeezes you.

Zach breathes you in, feeling safer than he ever has in his life.

“I’m really glad you texted me,” he mumbles.

“Me, too,” you say.

When you sneak back into your cabin, still wearing his sweater, the fear you felt of getting caught the whole walk over reminds you of why you suggested you cool things down in the first place.

If you’re found out, it’s over. You’re still not sure what to do, if you should keep trying to stay away from him or just continue meeting in secret. But you do know that whatever you decide, Zach will respect it.

The next morning, you wake up with a sore throat. You realize you caught a mild cold from last night. And being sick in the middle of the summer while working an exhausting job is not ideal.

You barely make it through the day, then have an overnight shift in one of the campers’ cabins. By the next day, you’re a bit better, mainly dealing with muscle soreness.

After dinner, Zach notices the faraway look in your eyes as you sit across the fire and talk with campers. You were together just two nights ago, kissing and laughing, but you haven’t had a chance to speak privately since. And something seems wrong.

He discreetly pulls out his phone to text you: Are you ok?

You feel the buzz in your pocket and when you read his text, you meet his eyes, melting at the concern in his gaze. In an effort to ease his worry, you speak a little louder to the kids around you.

“Nobody caught my cold, right?” you ask. They shake their heads no.

“You’re sick?” Zach asks from the other side of the pit, over the chatter.

“A little,” you reply, your nose scrunching. “But the worst of it is over.”

Zach’s heart aches, upset that you’re in pain and that he didn’t notice sooner. It’s from the night you got caught in the rain together. He’s sure of it.

When he knocks on your door after lights out, even though he’s still uneasy about your cabin-mate knowing about you two, at least he doesn’t have to worry about how to look like a concerned friend and nothing more.

You’re sitting in bed when Ami swings open the door. Zach is standing on your front step, cupping something in his hands, his eyes darting between her and you.

“Hey,” he says, looking at you. “Thought I’d drop off some tea.”

Ami looks back at you, a grin on her face.

“You brought her tea?” she says. “That’s so sweet.”

“It is sweet,” you say with a shy smile. “Thank you.”

“Come in,” Ami says, stepping back. “You can hang out. I was about to go see what Malcolm’s up to anyway.”

“Really?” you ask, not buying it.

“He’s on an overnight,” Zach says.

“Is he? That’s crazy,” she says with a coy smile. She looks at you. “Text me.”

You know what she means; you need to let her know when she can come back since you and Zach might be in doing more than just hanging out.

Ami pulls a sweater over her pajama top and rushes out, leaving you and Zach alone in the cabin.

“Where’d you get tea?” you ask once the door shuts.

“From the office,” he says, crossing the room and setting the mug on your nightstand. He settles on the edge of your bed, inches away from you, gazing at you worryingly.

“I can get more if you need it,” he says. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re sick?”

“It’s really not that bad,” you tell him. “It’s just a headache now.“

He purses his lips, reaching forward to put the back of his hand on your forehead.

“I don’t think I have a fever,” you laugh.

“No other symptoms?”

“Just a sore throat yesterday, but it passed.”

“From being in the rain the other night?”

“That, and the stress of being scared we’ll get caught,” you laugh. He knows you’re joking, but his chest twists in pain. “Should I have told you?“

The question sets him aback for a moment, uncertainty rushing through him. You’ve been acting like you want a relationship, too, but maybe he’s being unrealistically hopeful.

Even though he’s been afraid to come on too strong, he needs to know, so he speaks before he can talk himself out of it.

“If I’m going to be your boyfriend, I need to know when you’re not feeling well,” Zach says.

You gaze at him for a silent few seconds. He’s unbelievably grateful when you lean forward and press your forehead into his chest, hugging him as best you can while you sit across from each other.

“It was just a little cold,” you mumble. “But I bet it would’ve been worse if my boyfriend didn’t make me wear his sweater.”

He cracks a smile, relieved, loving the way it sounds coming from you.

“Which you stole, by the way,” he says, making you laugh. He kisses the top of your head, then leans over to hand you the mug, steam curling from the top.

“Thank you,” you say. “How are you?”

You talk to each other about your days, swapping stories as you lean against the wall, taking slow sips.

“I’m cured,” you say once you’re done, setting the empty mug on the nightstand.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asks.

“Hugs,” you say, feeling desperate for his touch.

Zach grins, standing to let you comfortably lie down before he settles next to you. Your cheek is on his shoulder as he holds you in his arms, and when he lifts your chin to guide you into a kiss, you shake your head.

“You’ll get sick,” you warn.

“What? You said I cured you.” He pecks your lips gently, then shifts to kiss your forehead. “Where’s it hurt? Here?”

“Mhm,” you mumble.

“I don’t think it’s the cold,” he says. “Your head hurts because you think about me too much.”

You giggle, your hand trailing up and down his firm stomach.

“Oh, that must be it,” you say.

“I think about you too much, too.”

“You do?” You close your eyes as he continues to plant gentle kisses on your forehead. “What do you think about?”

“I mostly wonder when the next time I can be with you is,” he murmurs, “and how it can’t come fast enough.”

You stroke his chest, stopping to feel his heartbeat over the fabric of his shirt.

“Me, too,” you say. You trail back down his stomach and up again, arousal twisting in your core the more you feel him.

He sighs quietly. It’s unreal how just a minute of your touch does this to him. He’s already hard.

When you gently tug at his hip so he’ll turn on his side to face you, you feel him stiffen once his erection presses against your stomach, letting out a heavy exhale.

“I swear I didn’t come over to do this,” Zach murmurs, worried you’ll think he’d try to come by under false pretences just to hook up.

“I believe you,” you whisper against his neck, kissing softly, breathing in his scent.

Zach kisses the top of your head, cradling your jaw, revelling in the feeling of your affection, sure you can feel him growing even harder against you.

“I don’t know if – I mean, are we back to seeing each other?”

You shuffle back to meet his eyes, sympathy in your gaze.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been confusing,” you say. “I know I told you we should cool down just to make out with you like, two days later.”

“I’m not complaining,” Zach says with a soft chuckle. Maybe someone else would be frustrated, but everything about this summer has been unpredictable and he’s always been quick to adapt.

“I can’t decide what to do. I feel like you,” you tease.

“Hurtful,” he jokes, squinting.

“Remind me of how much time we have left before the season ends,” you say sadly.

“A month and three days.”

“It’s cute that you know the exact number.” The compliment makes his cheeks flush pink.

“Yeah, I’m pretty cute,” he replies. You laugh, your fingers dipping beneath the hem of his t-shirt. He bites his lip when he feels your skin against his, eyelids low.

“You’re very cute,” you say. “And very kind for coming to check on me.”

His heart is racing. You’re looking at him in that way he said you can’t look at him at work. It gets him all flustered, making him feel like you want him as bad as he wants you.

“And so sweet and so handsome,” you continue, your hand sliding up his back under his shirt. “And so good for me.”

“Baby,” he sighs happily, the praise making his head swim. “You know what that does to me.”

“That’s why I’m doing it,” you breathe. “One more night? Then, we cool down, for real?”

“But your head hurts.”

You shrug, admittedly still feeling tension in your temples.

“You made it better,” you say. He shifts lower to kiss you, gently sucking on your bottom lip, breathing heavily.

His thoughts are rushing like a current, the desire to make you feel good, to relax you in the best possible way burning deep inside him.

When he pulls back a bit, his lips brush against yours when he asks, “Can I kiss lower? Make you feel even better?”

You catch the weight of his words, the coil in you tightening even more.

“Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

“You never have to say please to me,” Zach says. “Not for that.”

You groan when he lowers to kiss your neck, down to your collarbones, over the swells of your breasts. He’s on his knees as he pulls up your shirt, trailing kisses up your stomach as he hungrily pulls down your pants.

You lift your hips to help him push them off, left in your panties in seconds.

Zach settles on his elbows, his eyes meeting yours as he rests with his head between your bent legs. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you as he puckers his lips against your inner thigh.

“You want this?” he murmurs.

“Yes,” you sigh happily.

“Me, too,” he says. “So bad.”

He kisses harder, surely going to leave a mark. His big hand drags over your knee, down your other thigh, resting at your pelvis.

His gaze refuses to leave yours, his lips still on your skin, when he lowers his hand to stroke his thumb over your middle. You moan softly, blinking slowly.

Like every other time he touches you, it feels like a dream. He can’t believe he gets to do this. The anticipation of knowing he’ll be tasting you soon makes his skin tingle.

Zach is agonizingly slow with his kisses, planting them all up one thigh, then moving to the other, then dipping to kiss right above where you need him most, over your underwear.

You lace your fingers in his messy hair, not pushing or pulling, just feeling his head move with every kiss, trying to be patient.

Finally, he puts his mouth over your core, kissing over the fabric, pulling a shudder out of you.

He can feel how wet you are, earning a taste of you, and it makes him ache with need. He looks up at you again as he gently pulls at the band of your panties.

Once you kick them off, his lips part in awe when you readjust to slightly spread your legs.

“Fuck,” he breathes. It’s almost nerve-racking, the way he’s staring at you. You’ve never been looked at like this. He gently pushes your knee down so he can see more of you.

“Fuck,” he says again, groaning through the word this time. He can’t wait any longer, lowering to press his lips against you. Your body rolls with pleasure when he makes contact, his lips warm and wet and soft, puckering against you.

Zach leaves countless kisses on you, angling his head so that he can give every part of you equal attention, licking his lips in between so that he can savor you.

You arch your back as he starts to languidly tongue you, letting out low moans and warm breaths. His nose presses against your groin, the sound of his wet kisses filling the room.

You run the heel of your palm over his head, caressing him, and he starts to suck your clit, his lips locked tightly.

“That feels so good,” you whisper. The way his mouth is working you sends waves of easy, soft satisfaction through you.

He threshes his tongue, gazing up at you as your face pinches in pleasure. You meet his eyes again, seeing how utterly intoxicated he looks to be doing something so intimate with you.

Zach pulls back, lips smacking off of you, panting now. He runs his hand up to your hip to find your hand and lace his fingers in yours.

“You taste so sweet,” he says, his tone thick with ecstasy, before leaning down again. It’s even better than he even imagined. You’re so slick and hot against his tongue. He could do this for hours.

You continue to run your fingers through his hair with one hand as you squeeze his fingers with the other, soft sighs spilling from your mouth. When you feel his tongue dip into you, you have to bite your bottom lip to quiet your moan.

His groans vibrate against you, guiding you into a state of pure solace. He pulls his hand away from yours to stroke his thumb in gentle circles over your clit as he tongues you. Every inch of your body tingles.

“Don’t stop,” you breathe. “That’s perfect.”

The praise spurs him on. His jaw is sore from how much his tongue is writhing inside you, but your pleasure is worth it.

The orgasm reaches you quickly, a million fireworks of ecstasy bursting through you, pushing you to quiver beneath him.

Zach kisses you as you come down from your high, shifting up to kiss your thigh, then your sternum, then finally your lips.

You meet his lips lazily and tenderly, tasting yourself on him. When you slowly trail your hand down his stomach to palm him over his sweats, he pulls back.

“No, baby,” he murmurs. “I don’t want you doing any work. Just rest tonight.”

He’s rock hard. You can tell how bad he needs the release. You want to do this for him, no matter how dazed you are. But you know he’ll feel guilty if he feels like you’re straining yourself.

“Then you do the work,” you whisper. “The condoms are in the bottom drawer.”

Zach sighs, kissing between your eyebrows, breaths shallow.

“I made you sore last time.”

“A good sore,” you breathily laugh.

“You’re sure?” he asks.

“I want you,” you say.

Your lids are low as Zach shifts to find a condom, pulling down his sweats and boxers, rolling it on carefully. His large frame leans over you, a flush coloring his cheeks as he looks down at you.

“I’m going slow,” he tells you.

“Whatever you want,” you say, and you mean it.

He holds himself at his base, slowly dipping himself into where his tongue was just minutes ago. His breath is strained as he sinks into you, wrapped in your soft heat.

He’s close to bottoming out, and stops, stroking your cheek.

“Still good?” he rasps.

“Yes,” you say. “Keep going.”

Zach sinks into you completely, taking a moment to savor how nice it is to be deep inside you again. His mouth is at the crook of your neck as he slowly starts to thrust back and forth, your bodies meeting with soft smacks.

The pressure of him is hard and perfect as your body rocks with his movements. You shut your eyes, swimming in bliss, breathing out short sighs into his ear as he rocks in and out.

He can’t believe how nicely you’re squeezing him, how perfect you feel, how lucky he is to be here right now. Your bed squeaks when he starts to move faster, his muscles tensing as you wrap your arms around him.

“Still okay?” Zach whispers.

“Yes,” you say. “Come for me.”

Your words are everything to him, the tender dominance he so deeply loves spinning him into a euphoric high. The way you make him feel makes the world stand still, makes him feel like perfection can exist.

He kisses you deeply, his stomach tautening as he comes. He continues to thrust slowly as he rides out the pleasure.

When he collapses, you kiss his cheek over and over, running your hand over the back of his head.

“Thank you,” he whispers. You smile weakly.

“Thank you,” you say.

Zach doesn’t let you stand up. After he gets dressed, he grabs a towel to help clean you up, gentle and slow. You’re still lying on your back when he sits at the end of your bed to pull your panties up over your ankles.

“You always gonna do that?” you tease quietly. “Put my clothes back on after?”

“Yes,” he says. He pulls them all the way up, then drags your pants up, too, before lying down next to you. You shuffle into the position you were in before, your cheek on his shoulder, his arms around you.

“My headache’s gone,” you tell him, “and I’m not just saying that.”

Zach’s chest gently bounces as he laughs.

“Good,” he says. He rubs up and down your arm. “Just tell me when I should go.”

“How’s never?” you ask. He smiles. His heart has never felt warmer.

“Doable,” he chuckles, kissing your forehead. “And… I’m with you. We’ll wait until the end of the season. I don’t want you stressed out, baby.”

“Okay,” you agree. It’s bittersweet and a month and three days have never felt so long, but you agree.

Eventually, you pull yourselves apart. You kiss Zach goodbye and text Ami that the coast is clear.

The next few days are a busy haze, full of stolen glances between you and Zach, and before you know it, it’s the midpoint of the season, the day of staff game.

It’s a scorching afternoon as you warm up on the pitch, eyes flitting to Zach as he jogs on the other side of the field.

Both teams were randomly assigned, and when you noticed that Zach was wearing a red vest over his t-shirt, not matching your blue one, you internally sighed.

You miss him. And if you were on the same team, at least you’d have a perfectly valid reason to talk with him right now.

The campers are seated under canopies on the touchline, already in a spirited cheer-off, rooting for the team their counselors are on.

Ruby blows the whistle to signal the start of the game. Your team keeps the ball on the other side of the field for the first little while, but remain goalless, until eventually, the red team starts to move in.

You’re focused, feeling more confident about your playing than you have in a while. You know you have Zach to thank. You hope you have the opportunity to tell him soon.

You’re quick on your feet as you watch the red team retain possession, the ball quickly spinning back and forth over the grass.

Finally, they make their move, with Zach leading. With slightly bent knees, you watch as he approaches the goal. You’re the only person left between him and your goalie.

He fakes left, but you call his bluff, stepping right to successfully kick it away. A chorus of groans sounds from the campers and some of his teammates.

“Oh, come on, Zach!” Malcolm shouts from the halfway line. “Obviously you want to go easy on your girl, but have some pride.”

“Chill, Malcolm,” Ami shouts back, laughing uneasily. You look back at your teammate, wondering if she broke her promise and told him about you. Or maybe Zach let him know at some point.

Or maybe Malcolm doesn’t know anything and you’re just reading into it. Your eyes dart to Zach as he jogs away. He looks back, his expression tense.

The game ends in a 0-0 draw, and Ruby decides it should come down to a penalty shootout just to end it with a bang. To your surprise, Zach misses, hitting the post. He looks rattled. Your team wins.

After lights out, you replay the moment on the field in your head, wondering how many people heard Malcolm. You want to question Ami about it, but you don’t get a chance to before she leaves for her overnight shift.

You step out into the humid night, figuring a walk will be a good way to clear your head. The anxiety eventually is too big to avoid, so you text Zach: everything alright? does Malcolm know?

As you pace past the camper cabins on your loop around the campground, you see that he replied. I asked him after the game. He knows. Ami told him.

You send a sigh up to the starry sky. She promised. Now not only is the secret out to two people, but considering that Malcolm is Zach’s best friend, maybe he was offended that Zach didn’t tell him, causing even more issues.

You text him: crap. sorry. do you want to talk about it?

You’re surprised and a little slighted to see him text back: It’s all good.

When you reach the staff area, you see Zach’s tall figure heading down the steps of his cabin.

Zach never thought he wouldn’t be glad to see you. But after the tense conversation he just had with Malcolm, he knows that the worry he’s harboring over the very real possibility that his aunt heard Malcolm’s words on the field today won’t make him good company.

He knows it’s not your fault. He willingly went into this with you. He pursued it. He left the marks on your body that exposed you. He should be mad at Malcolm for what he shouted today, and Malcolm only.

But he has a voice in the back of his mind pestering him, frustrated that you didn’t just hide it better and not tell Ami. And he feels like shit for being a little mad at you.

You already saw him. He’s not going to be a dick and ignore you. He’s going to pretend he’s fine.

“Hi,” you say softly, stopping in front of your cabin.

“Hey,” he says. “Out for a walk?”

“Are you mad at me?” you ask.

“What? No,” he says. “Why do you think that?”

“It feels like…” You hold up your phone. “I don’t know, this is the type of thing you’d want to talk about. But you just brushed me off.”

“I’m sorry,” he says. “We’re keeping our distance, right?”

You cross your arms, unable to shake the feeling that he’s not being totally honest. You know him well enough by now. Maybe he’s good at putting on a show for other people. But it’s not working on you.

“Zach, is this… is this what you talked about before?” you ask over the crickets chirping loudly around you. “When you said you don’t like to admit it when something’s bothering you?“

He looks down, his tongue jutting from under his cheek.

“Are you mad at me?” you ask again.

He’s silent. His mind is totally blank. He’s never been good at this. He hates that he can’t control how he feels. He feels like a bad person for being upset with someone so sweet who didn’t mean any harm.

“This just… it sucks,” Zach mumbles.

You nod slowly. It’s not a clear answer, but it’s enough. Your heart feels too heavy to force a conversation.

“Yeah,” you say. “It does.”

You turn to go up to your cabin. It hurts when he doesn’t stop you.

(part seven)

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