#i had an argument with my mum help me win

[gingerbreadpopsolo]

I FED UP WITH THE ARGUMENT

[bangchansgirlsblog]

Overprotective

-9th member

Warnings: Angst, fighting.

Pairing: strays kids 9th member

Summary: being an idol is hard but it’s even harder when you want to be a normal teen but you can’t.

Enjoy!🩷

**

"But Chris!" I say yelling from the other side of the room.

We had been arguing for almost 10 minutes now and he wasn’t budging at all.

"I know you wanna go for the concert but we have a flight the next day, it won't be okay and I'm not risking you going out alone with non of the boys with you." He says crossing his hands and glaring at me.

"But Chris! I'll be with the girls-"

"The girls that im not in charge of! The girls that drink like maniacs and do stupid shit. You'll end up in a ditch!" He shouts at me.

He was currently sat on the dining table and his laptop was out meaning he was doing work.

I thought it would be a good idea to ask him about going for a concert tonight with the girls that I used to train with. They had invited me out and since I had been behaving I thought Chan would allow me too.

"Please Chan this is the only time I get to be a normal teen. I'll be back early and I won't touch or do anything illegal I promise." I complain in my whining voice.

"Nope." He simply says and I get even more angry.

"Chris you don't even let me go out! Why are you being like this!" I grab the pillow and throw it at him but he dodges it and glares at me.

"You know why I am! Im not arguing about this anymore. Go to your room and make sure all your stuff is packed. This conversation is done.”

"Ugh! I wish I never became a K-pop idol! I hate you!" I scream. I knew I was being dramatic but I had to atleast get my lick back. I refused to let him win this argument.

"If I knew you were gonna act like this I wouldn't pick you in the first place! You’re such a brat!" His voice louder than before.

"Woah woah woah what's going on In here?" Leeknow says walking into the room. Obviously coming out from the shower.

"Get your daughter before I yell at her even more." He tells him. standing up to pace the room.

"Y/nie what happened baby girl?" Leeknow asks wrapping his arms around me.

I knew if I told leeknow about the concert he would have been more stern than Chan. He would have mean more stricter.

“Hey why are you crying? Talk to me.” He softly says wiping off the tears that run down my cheeks.

“It’s nothing, Chan’s just being a jerk,” I spat and shrugged his arms off before walking up the stairs.

"What did you do Chan?" I hear him ask Chan.

Chan and leeknow always acted like the mum and dad of the group. In every situation.

I hear them whispering, Chan probably telling him about the concert and I hear leeknow gasping. Knowing trouble was coming my way I silently groan and walk in the dark corridors making my way to my room.

All the other guys were at practice or shopping cause we were going to leave in the morning so the house was quiet.

Being an idol was fun, I enjoyed it but that means I wasn't allowed to grow up in a normal space.

Being the youngest in the group of boys made it worse cause they were bugging on me and checking on me 24/7 and since my parents didn't leave in Korea they gave all guardian rights to Chan. Making me his "child".

A sigh escapes my mouth.

I sit on the carpet and fold my clothes while putting them in my pink suitcase.

We were going to New York for Lollapolza so I had to make sure I packed quite a lot. So I was busy, my thoughts were taunting me.

Chan's words didn't leave my head as I was busy packing up everything,

I was so upset that I didn't hear or see Leeknow walking in.

I wipe my tears and give him a smile, knowing he was going to scold me. I just knew it.

"Honey." He says with his scolding tone.

"Yes leeknow."

"You've disappointed me" he softly says.

"But Lee-"

"Chan is your elder, he watches over you like a father. He makes sure you eat sleep and rest and he helps you get to the goals you wanna reach right?"

"Yes but Leeknow-"

"No no no, you've hurt his feelings. I want you to apologize because I know me and him didn't raise you like this. We raised you to be respectful and to listen" he holds my hand and slowly rubs circles on them just to make sure I wasn’t upset but I was.

"What about my feelings leeknow you don't want to listen to me!" I blurt out frustrated.

He takes it by surprise cause I never dared raise my voice at him or yell at him.

"Excuse me?" He says raising an eyebrow. I quickly regret it and say a tiny “sorry” causing him to nod his head for me to continue

"Leeknow it's tiring watching all my friends having fun while I'm stuck on the side. When my friends are partying and having fun, I have dance practice from 6-12 in the night. I'm tired I just asked for one night out."

"But look baby girl, I know you want to be normal sometimes but you worked for this. You chose this life and the harsh truth is, Chan is looking out for you and our image. You can't be caught out drinking and smoking with boys." He says softly.

He obviously didn't get it but I was so exhausted from fighting I just nodded.

"Okay now wash your face, the boys are almost home and we'll have dinner. I hope your done packing." He says while getting up from the ground.

I just say a little hum and zip up my bag.

I take a shower and wear what looked like Jeogin's hoodie and some sweatpants and make my way down stairs.

All the guys were sitting on the table and the tension in the room was high.

"Hey munchkin," Han says kissing my forehead.

I tell him a little hello and he frowns at my dull face.

He obviously knew why I was upset but he didn't know it affected me this much.

Leeknow brings out the food and we all start to eat when I get a text on my phone causing me to look at it.

Maknae's On 🔝 :

Felix: we hard about the fight you had with Chan 😬

I.N: yeah sorry about it pookie.

Y/n: Guys we're on the table Chan is going to tell us off! Stop texting.

*cough cough* I look up to see Chan glaring at me obviously wanting to get my attention.

"No phones on the table Y/n you know this." Chan says while putting his fork down

"I was telling them to stop-"

"Just put it away and stop arguing." He cuts me off and grabs the bowl of potatoes.

"Are you serious right now Chan?" I ask in disbelief.

Why was he only picking on? Was he that angry at me? If he was going to be mad he should just say so instead of picking on me.

"Y/n let it go." Changbin says getting in the middle of the fight.

"But I was just-"

"What did we talk about?" Leeknow asks.

I scoff and put my phone down.

Saying things under my breathe because I was so mad.

The evening consisted of all the boys talking about the flight and discussed dance moves or general performance things.

I sit there quiet thinking about how I would be at a concert right now having a blast but I was home being given the Cold shoulder.

I grab my plate and put it in the sink leaving everyone in the dining room and making my way to my room.

I turn off all the lights and sit in the darkness scrolling through my phone trying to calm down.

It was long before I heard a knock on the door.

It was my oldest ‘brother’.

"Can I come in?" He softly says but I turn my back on him and look the other direction. Still very angry at him.

"Fair enough, I still am coming in." He sighs and sits by my bed.

The room is quiet.

"I'm sorry Y/nie" he says while brushing my hair.

His touch is soft and delicate almost like he didn’t want to break me or hurt me.

When he realized I wasn’t going to talk he just continued talking:

"Your the only girl in the group AND your the youngest. I worry okay? I worry because as men in this industry we see a lot but the women have seen worse. Your still a baby Y/nie. I wouldn't forgive myself if anything happened to you. I basically raised you. I want the best for you always. I know what I said has hurt you, it wasn't my intention but you hurt me, and being your older brother I was disappointed. Channie loves you so much and Im happy your on my team okay?" He finalizes and I feel a drop on my shoulder.

I look at him and watch he had tear stained eyes. My heart breaks and the guilt starts to fill my stomach.

"Oppa don't cry because of me. I'm sorry." I get up and wipe his tears. Hugging him tight.

"I was just angry, I don't hate you I promise. I just need to understand things Channie..." I trail off and look at my hands.

“And that’s okay, you’re still young and I’m going to do whatever it takes to protect you.” He softy says and pulls me into his arms one last time.

“Also I’m sorry for yelling at you during dinner, I put the boys out in time out.”

“You did?”

“Yeah no gaming for the next hour.” He says proudly.

“Ohh that’s a nice one.” I give him a high five while we laugh.

**

Hey *with rizz*😜

[chaoticloving]

new years, new family

harry styles x reader (SOH masterlist)

summary: y/n meets anne and gemma for the first time, and harry's just happy. || w/c: 2.2k

a/n: felt i should post a bit more before im back to class, enjoy and have a good new year!

Anne was an amazing mother. She was kind, empathetic, and had the strong will that helped her do what was right. Harry loved his mum too. Despite all the arguments and the fame, he has always had faith in her. He truly felt the love and comfort that a mother should give any child—and he still does to this day as an adult.

Anne prided on being someone her kids could go too if they needed an ear and always gave her kids space, but that didn’t stop her from being curious about their lives. She would sometimes sneak in a “do you like someone” or “when do you think you’ll have kids” every now and then, but they knew she just had their best interest at heart.

Anne was very careful about what she asked Harry though, not to say that she would be blunt with Gemma, but there were certain questions that would sound too much like a TMZ journalist asking questions. So, Anne would turn to Gemma to maybe slip some detail about Harry’s life.

The last time Gemma came around her mothers though, she did tell Anne that Harry’s got a crush that sort-of, maybe, turned into his girlfriend. “But don’t quote me on this. I don’t know for sure.” Gemma reminded her mother.

But Anne was bubbling with excitement. She knew the girlfriend in question is Y/n, the women Harry might of suitably alluded to having a crush on, and she couldn’t be more excited for her boy. She reminded herself though that she can’t be too pushy, but she can watch the young actresses movies.

After just under six months of dating, Harry decides he wants to tell his family.

“I know my mum won’t tell and Gemma will just make fun of me, I just don’t like keeping you a secret from everybody important in my life.” Harry confessed, kissing his lovers face all over as a way to win her over.

Y/n had a habit of overthinking, but seeing her boyfriends puppy dog eyes she just couldn’t say no.

“I believe you.” She kissed him back. “Just don’t embarrass me when you tell them.”

The next morning Harry was practically jumping from excitement, yet feeling like he needed the bathroom every five seconds from nerves. Harry knew his family wouldn’t hate Y/n or everything of the sort. It was just the fact they would be one of the first to know and their secret relationship wouldn’t be a secret anymore. He knew Y/n wasn’t just in it because of the the secrecy, but the fact still didn’t make him feel any better.

Harry powered through, and made the call.

The line rang a couple times before the cheery voice of Anne rang through. “Hi Honey, so good to hear from you!”

Harry laughed, walking around his London flat aimlessly. “It’s nice to talk to you too. Been feelin’ so busy from work that I think I’ll go crazy.”

“Oh no, well remember to take breaks and focus on you.” Anne thought this was her chance. “Do you have someone you can talk to or someone you feel comfortable with? Go out with them and forget about work.”

Harry blushed, he was in the kitchen and he could see the back of y/n. He thinks she is getting her morning coffee all ready as well as a cup for him.

“Yeah, actually, I’ve met someone.”

The pure joy running through Anne's body was something she last felt when Gemma told her about her last boyfriend.

"And is it who I think it is?"

"Have you been talkin' to Gemma recently?" Harry ask, false annoyance slipped through his voice. "But uh-" He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I think so. "

Anne practically screamed through the phone, excitement radiating though.

"But we are talking about Y/n, right?"

"Yes! Yes, oh my goodness, you finally are together! You two look so adorable together and I know to never buy into something TMZ or Daily Mail says but I saw your little photo and then when Gemma finally told me that you told her that you were talking to Y/n I started watching all of her movies so far and she is very talented, although, i have to admit, when she kissed that other boy in the movie I kept thinking how you would been feeling and--"

A couple seconds into her rant, Harry put Anne on speaker phone and was suffering from the adrenaline rushing though him. He was coming down from the high of fear and going into a tired yet happy state.

Y/n handed Harry a cup of coffee, half cream with a ton of sugar added in, then sat down next to him with her own coffee in hand. Y/n was trying to hide her smile through a look of embarrassment, but the actress couldn't quite hide her emotions from Harry.

Harry nudged Y/n, a smile on his rosey face. They look at each other with such adoration that it was sickening to anyone single.

"Harry? Harry, you still there?" Anne's voice snapped Harry from Y/n's trance on him.

"Yeah, I'm here mum." Harry chided, clearing his throat. "Just got a bit side tracked. What did you say?"

"When are you two coming over then? I know Gemma is coming round for new years so six could work, maybe five, or is that too early for new years?"

Y/n's eyes went wide with shock as she heard Anne's words then she could've sworn her heart stopped beating when Harry replied, as nonchalantly as ever, sure mum.

"Six'll work." Harry said, saying his goodbyes. He hung up his phone and smiled at Y/n. "You excited?"

"Definitely."

...

Y/n was not excited. Not in the slightest.

Y/n and Harry spent the holidays with their own families. They called each other, constantly; and much to Annes delight, and Gemma's partial annoyance, they've been hearing all about Y/n constantly. But a few day's after the holidays, they both met up at Harry's flat to make the journey to Anne's.

Currently, they were in Harry's Range Rover, close to Anne's house. They left a couple hours after Anne's call, knowing the drive is long and traffic would most likely be a nightmare. Harry has made the long drive quite a few times since he has moved to London, he knew it like the back of his hand; Y/n, while she hasn't made this specific drive, has gone on plenty of long trips in her life.

Yet, this drive, was pure torture.

She didn't want to tell Harry thats she is scared. She knows Harry would turn the car around and say it's no big deal, but he would be disappointed.

It wasn't like she didn't like what she has heard about his family, the opposite in fact. It's what they have heard about her.

Currently, the media is portraying Y/n as a serial dater, using someone for a night, or weekend if they're lucky, then dumping them and repeat. And poor Harry is the unconfirmed boyfriend that Y/n is dragging along for a long time.

They got all that from one group photo at a party last month.

It's not true. She knows it's not true, Harry knows it's not true, but does Anne and Gemma know it's not true? Anne invited her when there wasn't too much drama going on, but now? She was terrified for what would happen.

Y/n is just glad that it is just Gemma and Anne tonight, as much as she would want to meet Robin or Desmond, she can't deal with anymore people in one night.

"Okay so a couple tips." Harry started, turning down the volume of the song on the radio, Fleetwood Mac obviously. "One, don't ask Gemma if she is dating someone unless you want her to give you a silent treatment."

She nodded.

"Don't mention fame or anything too out of touch. Not really specific, just general advice because my mum always scoffs at people who flaunt their money."

"You say this in your custom two-hundred-thousand car." Y/n joked, trying to keep her cool.

"I got teased a bit." Harry shrugs, flipping the indicator and turning down a neighborhood. "But that's just teasing."

Harry sighs as he pulls to the side of the road in front of a nice house. It was cozy, yet big enough for a couple and a guest or two. "Ready?"

"Nothing else?"

"Not really sure." Harry fidgeted. "You're the first they would or could meet so..."

Y/n just nods as Harry's voice trails off, it's all she can do. Their thoughts mimic each other.

She's meeting her future in-laws.

I'm meeting my future in-laws.

The only difference was the tone. Excitement and fear.

Harry walked round to the other side, opening her door and holding his hand to help her out. Y/n felt like the paparazzi was watching her, but instead of flashing lights it was curtains suspiciously moving.

Harry knocked on the door, hand in a death grip with Y/n's. "Deep breaths. They're going to love you."

"Harry!" Anne swung open the door and smiled, when she looked over she saw Y/n, causing her to smile brighter and nearly bring tears to the women's eyes. "Y/n! I'm so glad you're here. Come in come in!"

Y/n had her red carpet smile on. She was carful to not make her smile look too obnoxious, but not like she was not excited to be here.

"Ms Twist you're house is beautiful." She complemented, earning her first awe of the night.

"Please, call me Anne." She blushed. "And thank you sweetheart."

"Where's Gem?" Harry asked, taking his shoes off and brushing his hand on Y/n's.

"Living room. She's on the phone with someone." She winked and walked into the house. "Come in, I've got some nibbles for you two."

Y/n mouthed, someone?. Harry just rolled his eyes and mouthed, "ex." She nodded and followed Harry into the the house.

"Gemma get off the phone." They heard Anne yell. "Say hi to the couple."

Gemma’s jaw dropped as she hugged Harry. She saw Y/n and her smile grew. "You're the famous Y/n we've been hearing about!"

Y/n nervously laughed but nodded, excepting the hug happily. Harry sighed thought, face turning a shade of pink. "It's so nice to meet you!" Y/n was smiling. Their first impressions were so far good. They seemed excited to meet her, and Y/n was able to breath finally now.

"Not long until midnight, so I've got to get going on the dinner." Anna decided.

"Let me help!" Y/n jumped at the opportunity to get to know Anne and get in her good graces. Following her to the kitchen and leaving the siblings behind.

"Mum's going to love her." Gemma whispered to Harry, shoving his shoulder. Harry just blushed, happy that his girlfriend is getting along with his family.

~

Midnight struck, cheers and hugs were done, and a sneaky kiss between the two young and in love celebrities were shared. Anne was tired, so the rest decided to retire to their rooms for the night. Harry took their two bags up to the stairs and revealed the small room that housed talented singer: Harry Styles.

It had grey walled with posters hung all around. As Y/n looked closer behind the records and old CDs tapped to the wall, she found a poorly covered up dent in the wall. "What's this?"

"Something that will definitely give my mum a heart attack." Harry smiled, dropping the bags. "Was playing with some of my friends and one "accidentally" threw a nerf gun at me."

"Sounds fun." She mused, continuing to look around the room. "Seems like your music taste has not changed." Y/n noticed the Joni Mitchell collection, right next to the Stevie Nicks one.

"Nope." Harry sighed, standing next to his girlfriend, but she could sense the smile forming on his face. "I'm glad I threw out all of those porno mags."

"So thoughtful." Y/n pushed Harry away as he laughed. Harry grabbed her and threw themselves onto the small, twin sized bed that had superman sheets on.

"Superman? At sixteen?" She asked.

"Hey, don't hate on superman." Harry defends. "These sheets are too comfy to get rid of."

They laugh a bit more, settling slowly into the silence that the small room gives them. They can hear Gemma talking to someone through the wall, though they don't mind--they're too wrap up in themselves to care.

"Think your family likes me?" She asked.

"Oh definitely. You're much better then any guy Gemma brought round." Harry remarked. "Plus mum loves you loads, it's really easy to see. She doesn't just offer her special margaritas to anyone."

"I'm glad." Is all Y/n says. She's tired now, a long stressful day of nerves really washed her out, but thankfully, she's got an amazing boyfriend to sleep next to.

"I'm glad you got to meet them." Harry admits. "No way you can break up with me now. Mum'll miss you too much."

"I'd miss her too. Not that I'd ever want to break up with you."

Harry kissed her sweetly, "Good, because I'd never do that too. Wouldn't even think of it."

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

Is it?

“Daddy!”

Lucius sighed behind a copy of the Daily Prophet. He ignored the way Narcissa snorted from the other side of the kitchen table.

“Draco, we discussed this. You are to call me father.”

He didn’t have to look down to know that Draco was pouting. Five years old wasn’t old enough to have proper decorum… yet.

“But you said I could call you that in secret.”

Narcissa snorted again, and he debated about replacing her cleansing potion with a dye potion. Then they’d see if that humor lasted.

“We aren’t in secret, are we?” When he looked over the top of the paper he was proven right. Draco was pouting.

“I forgot what it meant.”

Lucius sighed again. It wasn’t worth it. Battles only mattered if they were won, and Lucius knew the moment that his son was born that Draco would win every battle.

“But that doesn’t matter!” Draco cried, hands clapping together. “You said one day I would get married and have a wife.”

“Yes,” Lucius said slowly, not bothering to look up from the paper as he began to read again. “I also said you needed to practice your studies so that you can take over the Malfoy name.”

“I don’t care about that.”

Battles. Losing battles.

“I decided that I’ll be the wife!” Draco continued; voice closer to a yell than anything polite. No decorum, he must get that from Narcissa.

“Pardon?” Lucius put down the paper and gave Draco his full attention, ignoring the wheezing laugh that Narcissa didn’t attempt to hide.

“I want to be a husband,” Draco said, puffing out his chest. “But I also want to have a husband too. So, I think that means I’m a wife.”

Decades of heartbreak, yells, fights and screams echoed in his mind before his son’s pleading eyes broke through. Lucius could feel Narcissa’s eyes on him, but this wasn’t a moment when he needed her help. Draco came to him, not her. These were his hangups, not hers. This was his time to be someone better for his son than his father was for him.

There were many criticisms that people held of Lucius—most of them true—but the one thing he wouldn’t be was his father.

“Two men can get married.”

Draco gasped at the same time Narcissa did.

“They can?” Draco did a weird set of movements that he believed was some kind of dance routine. Merlin knew where he picked up that from. The more he thought about it, Draco did spend far too much time with Dobby.

“Yes,�� Lucius said with a sad tilt of his lips as he placed a hand to Draco’s cheek. “But there’s going to come a time when you’re going to have to ask yourself if it’s worth it. There will be a lot of people against it, they will expect more from a Malfoy heir.”

Draco frowned; head tilted. “But you said Malfoys don’t care about the thoughts of those beneath us.”

Lucius huffed, refusing to laugh even if his lips twitched.

“You’re right.” Would there ever be a battle he’d win with Draco? “So, then I’ll ask you. Is it? Is it worth it?”

Draco’s forehead wrinkled, tongue poked out as he made a very long and exaggerated thinking sound before he said in a tone that booked no argument,

“Yes.”

“Then you’d best find yourself a husband.”

Draco did another dance… if that was what one would call such a thing.

“Yes! You hear that mum? I get to be a husband and have one!”

“I did hear,” Narcissa said with such a soft sweet smile that Lucius fell in love all over again. “My baby is all grown up.”

Draco puffed out his chest again before he ran out of the room—with no decorum—as he said, “I have to tell Dobby! We have to start planning now.”

That brought a whole set of images that would have to be rectified as soon as possible. The last thing they needed was that senile elf planning anything.

Before he could walk after Draco, Narcissa placed a hand on top of his and said something that no one had ever told him before.

“I’m proud of you.”

And you know what? Lucius was proud of himself too. Just as he was proud of Draco—always would be.

Always.

[changingplumbob]

Foster Household: Chapter 9, Part 8

CW: Mental Health Struggles - Guide to content warnings

Chad: How are you today Carson

Carson: Not good. I mucked up at school

Chad: Oh? It’s not exam season is it

Carson: No. I just... I was painting and Ariadne came to talk to me and then the bell rang and all my intrusive thoughts started up and she didn’t finish what she was saying. She probably thinks I’m a rude idiot

Chad: Carson, remember how we talked about mind reading?

Carson: Sort of. It’s like imagining what another person is thinking

Chad: Yep. It’s also a notoriously unreliable train of thought. There’s no way for us to know what someone else is thinking

Carson: Unless we ask?

Chad: Exactly. So while it might be easy to imagine that everyone is thinking the worst of us, it doesn’t make it true. How have you found talking to her when the intrusive thoughts are more quiet?

Carson: Good. Really good. I held her hands and it felt great

Chad: Have you read up on asexuality at all?

Carson: Oh I have and it was good! Like just... exactly what I feel and think has a name. It was... validating. Yeah, validating. I don’t know how touch averse I am, I guess I’ll find out with time

Chad: I’m glad to hear that. Is there anything else you want to discuss before we get to today’s workshop?

Carson: No I’m good

Chad: Great. So last time was all about identifying your symptoms and thoughts. Today we’re going to revise that and discuss some ways to apply reasoned arguments to those thoughts

After he had finished with Chad, Carson hoped on the ferry home and gave his mum a call.

Carson: Hey Mum, my session is all finished. Do you need me to grab anything on the way home

Kayleigh: Oh sweetie I’m sending the new address to your phone

Carson: New address?

Kayleigh: YES! The movers came while you were at school and we’re all set up

Carson: So strangers were touching my stuff? Mum do you know how many germs they could have left?

Kayleigh: We got you some brand new stuff to, don’t worry. You’re going to love it. If you want to clean anything I can help, okay?

Carson worried all the way to the new house. People touching his stuff? When he got there he was pleased to see there were no internal stairs though, much safer. Kayleigh showed him his room and while he was apprehensive he couldn’t deny that his mum had done a good job of preserving his things. Once he was settled Kayleigh left him to do his homework. The light here was much nicer to, but he’d probably have to be careful for mold with his room sitting above the water. Could sharks break through floors like Lachrymose Leeches if they smelled food on him?

Harvey: How’d your appointment go? Are you liking Chad

Carson: Yeah he’s really chill. Helps me not feel so stressed

Kayleigh: I’m sorry we didn’t give you a heads up about the move but we didn’t want you to make yourself sick with worry before we were here

Carson: *sighs* It’s not cool mum

Harvey: It wasn’t just her, we decided together. Be mad at both of us if you are

Carson: Do sharks break through floors?

Kayleigh: I don’t think so but if you want to know I’m sure your sister knows

Harvey: She is a marine biologist

Carson: Yeah I might do that

Kayleigh: And we’re hiring a maid. They’ll come every weekday and clean however much of your room and bathroom you want

Harvey: You’re so smart sugar

Carson: Oh watcher, could you wait until I’m out of the room before kissing? Yeesh

Our first visitor was eldest child Charlie!

Harvey: You found us!

Charlie: Too easily. The paparazzi are going to find you here you know

Harvey: As if, I don’t think they know where Sulani even is. Come play chess?

Charlie follows her dad to the back porch, gives her mum a kiss on the cheek hello, and sets down to play. Harvey however is not a great player and the game is soon over with Charlie the victor.

Kayleigh: Alright my turn

Charlie: You think you can win

Kayleigh: I taught you how to play remember

Charlie: Yeah with a long gap and more kids in the middle

Kayleigh: I’ve been tuning my skills for promotion, you’ll see

Indeed Charlie does. Although she does her best to distract her mum during the game with claims of spotting sea monsters in the distance, Kayleigh is the final victor of the night.

Previous ... Next

[game-set-canet]

i love your imagines! can i get one where berrettini's gf is a tennis player and her mom is very nagging and is stressing her out and he's there for her

Tower of strength

Pairing: Matteo Berrettini x f!reader

category: fluff, hurt/comfort

warnings: (bit of a) toxic relationship with a family member

Author’s Note: sorry it took me so long to write it but now i'm really satisfied with the result - i hope you like it as well😊 also: English isn’t my first language, so I’m very sorry for mistakes!

* Y/N = your name * Y/M/N = your mother's name

MY MASTERLIST

(not my gif! credits to the owner/creator!)

♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦

You love your mum.

You really love her but at the same time she is one of the main reasons why you can’t sleep properly before an important match.

Because before every match she talks hours and hours about how important it is for you to win the match. She was a tennis teacher when she was younger and before she was pregnant with your older brother. She was your very first tennis coach – back when you were 5 years old. And although you have professional coach now, she doesn't stop interfering with your training schedule, your practice sessions and your match tactics.

During the last practise before the start of the Australian Open (your current tournament), there even was a very heated argument between your mother and your coach Albert. When you then took sides with your coach, your mother was quite offended.

You can really say that the overall situation in your team is tense.

You sigh and lean against one of the many chairs in the lobby of your hotel. You’re currently waiting for your boyfriend who came up with the idea of a little sightseeing tour on your day off. Although you are really sad about Matteo’s situation, his injury gave you two the time to spend even more time together. He helped you with your preparation for the AO and didn’t leave your side since you and your team came to Australia.  

“Y/N! What are you doing here?”, suddenly your mother is standing next to you and looks at you indignantly.

You blink in surprise: “Uhm…I’m waiting for Matteo?”

Your mother shakes her head: “Why aren’t you on the tennis court?! You’re supposed to practice till 11 a.m.!”, she sounds quite angry.

“Yeah, uhm…”, you shallow and bite your lip, “but Albert had the idea to end the practise session early and booked the court for tonight at 6 p.m. again, so we can practice at evening’s conditions. He-“

You don't get a chance to explain Albert's decision, your mother immediately interrupts you energetically: “He can’t just end practice early! What is he thinking?!”

The other people in the lobby start to look at you, but quickly turn away as your mother angrily glares at them.

“Mum! He is my coach!”, you try to explain in a low voice, “He knows what best for me and-“

“Pha! He doesn’t know what’s best for you! I’m your mother and I know what’s best for you!”, now she is really angry, her expression is cold, “You’ll lose your match tomorrow if you don't practise!”

“But I did practise one and a half hours and tonight another hour and-”

“Do you really care so little about your match tomorrow and the whole tournament?”

You take a deep breath and try to give your voice a conciliatory tone: “Mum, please! I did practise! And I’ll practise again in the evening! But now I’ll spend some time with Matteo in the city and-”

She laughs hysterically and throws her hand in the air: “You can’t go into the city! You have to play tomorrow!”

You know that there isn’t much missing until your mother really starts shouting at you in this hotel lobby, but you can't just give in, you were so looking forward to the sightseeing tour with Matteo.

“Yes, but no earlier than 5 p.m.! Mum, I can’t just sit in the hotel the whole time…”

Your mother rolls her eyes, suddenly sounding really disappointed: “You should spend your time with preparing your tactics for the match against Rogers! And it wouldn’t hurt to already think about your round 2 match, it’s either Mertens or Davis and-”

“No, I'm definitely not going to deal with that today! Step by step! First I have to win against Shelby and then-“

“Stop talking back to me! If you don't do it right, you will lose, just like at the US Open - you'll see!”

You just can’t take it anymore – her words are hurting you. She won’t let you forget your (quite embarrassing) first round loss during last year’s US Open. She keeps remembering you of this match again and again. And it really hurts you. Because it feels like she’s making fun of you.

You can’t stop the next words coming out of your mouth: “STOP SAYING I WILL LOSE MY MATCH!”

You were way too loud. You know that almost everyone is looking at you now. But you couldn’t care less, you are focused on your jerky breathing and the blinking away of the tears in your eyes.

Your mother looks at you with a – in your eyes - mocking smile and repeats clear and loud: “But you WILL lose because apparently you don’t care for anything and-”

Suddenly a third person steps next to you and without looking up you know who it is.

“Ok, I think that’s enough!”, Matteo’s voice sounds friendly, even though there is a certainty in it, “Y/M/N, Sarah is waiting for you upstairs to discuss the dates for the photo shoot with Adidas.”, you feel Matteo's hand reaching for yours and squeezing it gently, “Y/N and I will do some sightseeing in the city and be back in three hours. After that, Y/N and I will go over tactics for tomorrow's match and then the evening practise session and a physio session.”, he politely smiles at your mother, “I think that's a good plan for a day off in the first week of a slam, don’t you think?”

Your mother hesitates a few seconds but nods her head slowly: “Maybe. But I’ll attend the practise session as well…not that Albert decides to cancel the training again.”, she is still angry but she’s trying to cover it.

You snort and hiss at her: “Albert didn’t cancel the training! He-“, a hard squeeze of your hand makes you fall silent, and you give Matteo an uncomprehending sideways glance.

But your boyfriend doesn’t pay attention to you, instead he nods – still with a smile: “Yes, of course, that’s a great idea that you will be there as well – I’ll text you the court number in the afternoon!”

“Good…”, suddenly your mother looks soothed and content again, “I’ll go and talk with Sarah.”

“Goodbye, Y/M/N. See you later!”, he even waves at your mother as she walks to the elevator at the other side of the lobby.

You both wait until you’re sure that she is out of earshot.

Then you turn to him with a jerk and grumble in annoyance: “Why the hell did you say that?! I don’t want her to attend my practise! She won’t stop talking about how bad my stops are at the moment…”, you sigh at your last words and lean against his left shoulder.

You don’t feel angry anymore. Just tired. Tired of dealing with your mother who stresses you out like no opponent and no final ever did.

Matteo puts an arm around your shoulder and presses a kiss on your hair: “I’ll be there as well. I make sure she won’t be too tiring and annoying.”

“And how do you want to achieve that?”, your voice sounds muffled as you have buried your face in his chest by now.

“I don’t know.”, you can feel him shrug, “Maybe I asked her what I did wrong in my career so far. That should keep her busy for at least an hour.”

“You’re an idiot!”, you jerk your head up and playfully smack him on the chest, “I love you!”

“And I love you too.”, he brushes through your hair with his right hand, tames some strands of hair that have come loose from your hairdo, “I love you so so so much that I even voluntarily deal with your mother.”, he smiles down to you and tilts his head, “Who can be really nice…I’m sure she can be. I mean…if you only spend an hour a week with her, she's nice, I'm sure.”

Now you can’t help yourself but start laughing at his words.

“Ohhh, she is laughing again!”, he exclaims excited and cups your cheeks with his hands, “My darling is laughing again!”

Your laughing turns into a smile and you pull him down to you to kiss him softly.

“Thank you for helping me deal with her…I know she can be very…”, you furrow your brows while searching for the right words.

Matteo throws in a few examples: "Stressful? Annoying? Scary?"

“I was going to say “special” but I guess you’re right.”

“I know I’m.”, he grins at you, loosens the embrace and reaches for your hand, “Now let’s get going, I said we will be back in three hours!”

Yes, your mother can be very stressful but at the same time you have the very best boyfriend in the world.

♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦ - ♦

tagging: @bluetackbaby @lxndonorris @fedalev

[thetarttfuldickhead]

All right, I fully get that the smart money says Ted leaves Richmond in the next episode, but I just watched 3x01 again (in some mad hope that I’ll get through the entire season before the finale. Outlook: bad, but here’s to believing) and to me, the structurally sound narrative response to a character wondering (in the first 5 minutes of the first episode of the season) what he’s still doing there is not to have him spend the entire season figuring out that, actually no, he shouldn’t be here. That’s just… terribly anticlimactic, really. Posing the question that baldly, this early, to me suggests a story of him figuring out why he is there; why he has chosen that, and might continue to choose so.

Now, if we had gotten something along the lines of “I’m here to make these people the best they could be, they need me and that’s why I’m sticking around” it would make sense for Ted to eventually realize that, actually, job done; they’re as good as I can make them, now they can take it further on their own and I can go (as suggested in this meta, and to me far more satisfying than him leaving “just” because he wants to be with Henry). But we don’t get that: instead Ted notes that he knows why he came (to give Michelle a whole lot of space; it had little to do with Richmond or anyone there), but not what he’s still doing there (him and Michelle are over, so there’s no reason for him to stay away anymore). He assures Henry that he’d only stay for something really important, but he obviously has no idea what that is. He’s presented with several suggestions of what he might still be doing in England – Dr. Sharon’s “you don’t quit things, Ted” and Henry’s “win the whole thing” – but subtly rejects them both. He himself notes that “maybe me being here is doing more hurting than helping at this point, you know” so he’s clearly not sold on the notion of people needing him and him needing to stay for them.

Right from the get go, Ted’s central conflict of the season is set up as him feeling guilty over being apart from Henry and wondering what could possibly justify that. To me, the answer to that should be the justification, not an “eh, actually, nothing can, this was a bad move, let’s go home”. It’d… feel like a betrayal of everything that happened at Richmond (ie the whole series), sort of?

Now, there’s still room for a realization that yes, what he did stay for was the people around him, to help them be better: Ted seeing the labours of his work and knowing that he made the right call for the time being, but now it’s as good as he can get it, and it’s time to be with Henry. This isn’t horrible. I don’t love it, but it isn’t horrible. However, there’s little in the last episode leading up to the as-of-yet undisclosed truth bomb to Rebecca that suggests that this is the realization he’s had. His mother confesses that she’s there because Henry misses him: we already knew that! Ted knew that! The whole season has been about Ted’s guilt over that! This is not news, and should not lead to a sudden conviction that, no, actually, I have to be with my son.

(I mean, it could temporary: I’m not averse to the idea of Ted deciding to leave only to then realize that staying is the right choice after all. But as a final pay-off it’s weak.)

Rather, given the stuff with his mum (and Jamie’s dad) and Mae’s poem, the last episode read to me as Ted coming to terms with the fact that he won’t be a perfect dad. He will screw up. He will leave his son both with things to thank him for and with things that makes Henry want to say “fuck you”, and while he should be careful not to make the same mistakes as his mum, or ever be even a tenth as bad as James Tartt, it’s okay not to be perfect. Maybe it’s okay for his son to miss him; they still have a lot of contact, Henry knows that Ted loves him, and with him and Michelle divorce, it’s likely Henry would miss him some of the time even if Ted lived back in Kansas.

I’ll offer my own counter-argument: maybe Ted accepts that he will not be perfect, but is determined to be as good as he can, and to be that he needs to be with Henry. Fine, but we’re back to the part where this is just a bit anticlimactic, given that the seasons starts with Ted wondering why he’s in London. That’s the question I want answered in the next episode! Why Richmond matters to him, and why he matters to Richmond! 

Ah, it’s obviously folly to speculate: we’ll know for sure in a few days, and it’s very possible that the finale will present things in such a way that it throws new light on everything I’ve said here. (Actually, it’s very possible that the episodes between 3x01 and 3x12 might do that too, but I haven’t gotten that far in my rewatch yet.) That’s okay: I have faith that it’ll work out however it was supposed to. That said, I’d love to have expectations subverted, and for Ted to stay. (Even as I’ve gotten more used to the idea of Richmond without him.)

[aus-wnt]

https://www.codesports.com.au/football/matildas/matildas-star-caitlin-foord-and-newcastle-knights-recruit-jackson-hastings-share-enduring-bond-after-brady-bunch-meeting/news-story/154e1fc632552b2289813e227db527fc

Could you please send this

Matildas star Caitlin Foord and Newcastle Knights recruit Jackson Hastings share enduring bond after “Brady Bunch” meeting

Jackson Hastings isn’t afraid to admit it. Caitlin Foord, a central member of the Matildas’ golden generation, is not to be messed with.

“We used to always go play beach footy one-on-one and Caitlin was always faster than me,” Hastings recalls. “More talented, too. She was as tough as anything.”

Foord and Hastings grew up together in Warilla, a working class beachside hamlet 90 minutes south of Sydney. Both showed immense talent early: Foord with a football, Hastings with a footy. Occasionally, the two would cross over.

“When we used to play footy together I used to beat him pretty easily,” Foord says. “I remind him of that pretty frequently. You can follow that up with him but he’s lying if he says otherwise.” No arguments from Hastings.

“She used to make me cry a few times,” he responds. “I’m surprised she didn’t chuck that in there!”

Hastings and Foord have been friends for over 20 years thanks to a short-term Brady Bunch situation.

Jackson’s dad Kevin dated Caitlin’s mum Simone for a while. While Kevin and Simone ultimately went their separate ways, Jackson and Caitlin, plus Foord’s older sister Jamie, stayed close, hanging out at school and in their spare time together.

“Jamie and Caitlin were like the two older sisters I never had,” Hastings says. “The friendship is a lot deeper than going to school together, which I’m really grateful for.

“If [Caitlin] wanted to play rugby league and didn’t go down the path of playing football, and NRLW had come around sooner, no doubt in my mind she would have brained it. She’s tough, fast, skilful, athletic and mentally strong, too.”

Those traits have not been wasted. Foord has blazed a path from Warilla to Wembley.

When Foord was eight, longtime junior coach Mick Southwell invited the youngster along to a training program with other talented girls.

“Everything I’d heard about her, playing against boys, running rings around them, very athletic and mobile, was there,” Southwell recalls.

“And when she got out there with us, she just wanted to learn. That’s what stood out. Light on her feet, prepared to try things and run at players. Knock the ball past them and run.

“Rugby League would have helped develop that.” Football benefited.

A mere eight years after Southwell first saw her, Foord, just 16, skipped school for a month to play in the 2011 World Cup. She was named the best young player at the tournament.

Foord remains the only Australian player, male or female, to win a major award at a FIFA World Cup.

Hastings still marvels at Foord’s commitment to her craft in her formative years: a two-hour drive up the highway to Sydney every afternoon for elite training, followed by a drive home late at night. Bus to school. Repeat.

Foord credits the influence of Hastings, then a rising star in the rugby league ranks, for helping to hone her steely resolve.

“I think being able to work towards the same goals made us super focused,” Foord says. “And wanting to succeed meant we were determined in the same way.”

Hastings is like a proud little brother.

“I’ve seen her play for Warilla, Shellharbour, local teams,” Hastings says.

“Now she’s a superstar. “It’s incredible to see how far she’s gone in the sport.”

Foord has further to go. She has returned to Australia for this week’s Cup of Nations games against Czech Republic, Spain and Jamaica in dynamic form. A much-needed break last June has done wonders after an 18 month period which left Foord, and a number of other first-choice Matildas, on the verge of burning out.

Covid-19 wiped away most fixtures in 2020 but, after international football resumed in April the following year, the Matildas played 22 games, including the Olympics and Asian Cup.

In addition to increasing club commitments, like Foord has at Arsenal, the top players were fried and were granted leave for games last June against Spain and Portugal.

In the short-term, the move backfired. The Matildas were battered 7-1 by Spain and manager Tony Gustavsson’s future was once again called into question.

The decision, though, could prove to be a long-term masterstroke. Foord, in particular, has hit peak form for Arsenal and scored five goals in three games for the Matildas late last year.

“I think my goal scoring is a confidence thing,” Foord says. “I’m a confidence player. When I feel good, that reflects well on the field.” More importantly, the fearless and free version of Foord, first noticed as an eight-year-old in Wollongong, is back, terrorising defenders with her customary direct running.

Foord started this season outside Arsenal’s first XI, but forced her way in. And with key injuries to Gunners stars Beth Mead and Vivianne Miedema, she has stepped up with seven goals, plus involvement in countless others, in all competitions.

“I’ve always wanted to carry over to the national team what I can do at club,” Foord says. “That’s been my focus, when I come in, to be able to bring the same standard and level to each game and it will be the same this year as well.“

Hastings, now with the Newcastle Knights, will get to witness this first hand next week when the Matildas play Jamaica at his home-ground, McDonald Jones Stadium.

It will provide further confirmation of what he knew 20 years ago. “It’s awesome to see what she’s done for the women’s game,” Hastings says, before adding something more valuable about their relationship. “And she knows if I ever needed anything, I’d be there. And I know that would be vice versa.”

[medusapelagia]

21 AU-gust: Coaches

Rating: Teen and up Relationship: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson WT: Billy Hargrove, Permanently Injured Steve Harrington, implied reference to depression WC: 1811

“Come on! Get up, Harrington !”

“Fuck you, Munson!” Yeah, I know the drill, you hate me and you are not going to move from your stupid bed,”

“Fuck off! I can’t fucking move and you know that!”

Winning against Vecna was harder than they thought. They miraculously escape from the upside down but Max is left blind and Steve… Well, Steve had cushioned Eddie’s fall with his body, damaging his spine.

“Get up from that stupid bed!”

“I’m not going to sit on that stupid chair so feel free to leave me alone!”

Eddie sighs and goes back to the kitchen where Steve’s mother is waiting for him with a coffee.

“You didn’t manage to convince him, uh?” She asks, offering him a cup of black coffee.

Eddie shakes his head and she tries to comfort him, putting a hand on Eddie’s shoulder “Maybe tomorrow.” 

“Yeah. Maybe tomorrow.”

Eddie feels so fucking guilty. If Steve hadn’t cushioned his fall he wouldn’t be in a fucking wheelchair.

“It’s not your fault.” The woman says, sipping her coffee “I’m sure that Steve is happy that you are fine. It’s just difficult for him.” She puts the mug on the table “He is just like his father. He can’t accept that some things are above one’s control.”

Eddie nods, starting at the door of Steve’s new room on the first floor.

“How is Wayne?”

“Fine. He is talking about moving.”

“You should go with him.”

“No way! I’m not leaving Steve!”

“If you stay for him he will hate you and he will hate himself.”

“It’s too soon!”

“The sooner the better, kid.” She says, then she goes back to Steve’s room.

His mum it’s the only one who manages to make him get up from the bed.

“I don’t want to go sitting in the living room!”

He is complaining while she pushes him toward the television.

“Your room smells and I have to clean it. Watch some TV, read a book, but Don‘t go back to bed!”

“You are still here.” Steve states when he sees Eddie sitting in the kitchen, the cup of coffee still in his hand.

“Coffee?”

“I’m fine.”

He doesn’t even look at him, he just sits in front of the fucking television without turning it on. He stays like that until his mother comes back, and then he asks to go back to his bed.

“No young boy. I’m sorry but I’m not letting you get bedsores because you love your room. You can play something with Eddie, or go for a walk or…

“Where the fuck am I supposed to go? Uh? I can’t go to the woods in a fucking chair, I can’t drive my car! I can’t do anything! I’m just a waste of space!” he screams angrily at her.

The room goes silent for a moment.

Steve’s eyes are full of tears while he is trying desperately to keep it cool, and his mother's face is blank.

“Get out Steve. Breathe some air. We both need it.”

Eddie is frozen.

The woman came back as soon as the ER called her and she stayed at the hospital with him night and day. She has wiped away Steve’s tears and helped him through the worst part of the exam he had to do, but maybe this is too much even for her.

“Ok, ok. Let’s get some air, uh big boy? Me, you, and the crack in the pavements.” he says, feigning an enthusiasm that he doesn’t feel, and starts wheeling him out of the house.

Steve is so stressed out that he doesn’t even complain.

Eddie takes the blanket on the couch and puts it on his shoulder, just in case, then grabs a pair of sunglasses, Steve’s mom probably, and they are outside for the first time in months.

Eddie knows that Steve doesn’t want the neighbor to see him like that, so he moves around the house, finding himself in front of the heathen swimming pool.

“Are you going to push me in the pool and let me drown?” Steve asks and Eddie can’t say if he is joking or not.

“Would you like that?”

“I mean… it would be poetic somehow. Barb died in this very same pool, did you know that?”

He did but that’s not the kind of argument he wants to talk about right now.

“So, what are your plans? Apart from keep yelling at anyone who tries to help you.”

“I am no!”

“Oh yes, you are. And we try to understand, we really do, but sometimes you are just a fucking little bully like in high school. Only with a personal chair.”

“Fuck off Munson! You can go where the hell you want! Leave with Wayne! Have a life! Even my mum thinks that you would be better far from me so go. Leave me here. I will not go anywhere!”

“I don’t want to leave you, jackass! Ok? I’m fucking in love with you and I don’t care if I have to take you on my fucking back to show you how many things you can still do! I’ll fucking do it! But you have to let me inside, Steve! You can’t keep pushing me away forever!”

Steve doesn’t answer, he turns his head toward the house “Can we go back now?”

Eddie sighs and wheels him back to his home.

***

He doesn’t know how the fuck did he end like this, but he is sitting at a table with Max, Dustin, and Billy Hargrove.

“How is he?”

“Same. Angry. Hurt. And he hates everyone. Me and his mum in particular.”

Max nods “I get it. I wasn’t very thrilled when I found out that I was going to be blind either. But he has to find something that makes him wanna live.”

“Do you think he is contemplating suicide?” Dustin asks scared.

“No, I don’t think so. He is too angry to be resigned, but I’m out of ideas on how to get him out of that fucking house.”

Billy stares at him for a long moment “You don’t have to get him out of the house actually.”

Dustin snorts “And you should be the straight-A guy? We want him to leave the house!”

Billy glares at him “We want him to leave the room. It’s different.”

“What are you thinking?” 

Billy looks at Eddie “He was good at sports. Really good. And he is competitive. He always was. I was thinking of making him play some sports again.”

“Ok, that’s nice, but even if Steve is super rich we can’t pay people to play with him and let him win!” Eddie complaints.

“That’s not what I was thinking.” he leans back on the chair “When I first got up I had to do a lot of physiotherapy at the hospital. I hated every single second of it. I liked only one thing. The pool. And he has an enormous swimming pool just behind his house.”

“Yes, and he thinks that drawing in the swimming pool would be really poetic. No fucking way!”

“You know why pools are perfect for physiotherapy? Because in the water you weigh less. Steve was always an athlete, he will have to get used to using his arms more now that he can’t use his legs but I think it can work. When he sees that he can move on his own in the water, maybe he’ll understand that his life is not over.”

“Ok. Cool. And how do you think you will convince him?”

“With a competition.”

***

“No, no, no. You are not going to put Steve in the water unsupervised! We don’t know if he can still swim or not! He will fucking drawn!” Steve's mothere doesn't look very convinced.

“Listen, I’m a certified lifeguard, if anything happens I’ll be there, just let him try.”

“Let me try what?”

Billy smiles like a shark.

“Pretty boy. How are you?”

“Got me a new chair, you didn’t know?”

“I did, but Munson here thinks that it is not fitted for royalties, so I wanted to propose to you a little swim in your swimming pool.”

“Trying to finally kill me?”

“Too many witnesses. Maybe next time.”

“I can’t move my legs, asshole.”

“But you can move your arms, prick.”

Steve looks at him, annoyed, then turns toward his mother “I need my speedo.”

***

Eddie is on edge.

Billy is already in the water, waiting for Steve, but the pool does not have the equipment to help him lower himself in the water, so they are trying to help him sit on the poolside, and then he will push himself into the water.

Eddie hates water.

Since Lovers Lake he wasn’t able to get too close to a lake, or a pool, or whatever, and now Steve is going to submerge himself in the very same pool where Barb died.

Shit.

“I can hear you thinking.” Steve’s mother says, at his side “He’ll be good. My kid is a warrior.” 

Eddie nods, he knows that he is, but still, he frets.

“Come on pretty boy, do you want to make me wait all day long?” Billy teases him from the water, and with a sudden push, Steve jumps into the swimming pool.

He immediately gets dragged to the bottom, but Billy tightens his grip around his chest and brings him to the surface.

“Fuck this! Fuck you! Fuck everyone!” Steve yells while spitting water.

“Come on! It’s your first time. You have to learn how to use your body.” he helps him on his back “First swimming lesson. Get used to the water. You are going to stay relaxed and I’m going to move you around the pool. nothing too complicated, ok?”

Steve grumbles but nods, and lets the other boy hold his back and move him in the water.

After a few moments, he starts to relax.

“Not bad, uh?”

“I was co-captain of the swimming pool! I can do more than lie on the water like a dead body!”

Billy smirks “I know you do. But I am the coach, and I’m the one who decides what you can do and what you can’t. And let me tell you. I have big projects for you.”

“Like what?”

“Have you ever thought about the Olympics?”

***

Two years later, at the 1988 Summer Paralympics, Steve is ready to get in the water. 

Billy is at his side because Steve was adamant, he was not going to participate without his personal coach.

“Now go and bring me back that fucking medal, ok pretty boy? Eddie is ready to take you to a very exclusive restaurant in Seoul to celebrate, but you didn’t hear that from me, are we clear?”

Steve nods, waves at his mum and Eddie, and wears his swimming goggles, ready to win his first Olympic medal.

[nicothebug]

𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕤

(a collection of moodboards and quick descriptions)

⸺ 𝕣𝕠𝕝𝕗 - my brother, magizoologist

Rolf is 5 years older than me, he has graduated Hogwarts and is currently working in a dragon sanctuary in Greece with Charlie. Tall, shy, and giggly dude. Very similar personality to our dad.

⸺ 𝕖𝕕𝕕𝕚𝕖 𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕖𝕣 - my dad, muggleborn, Auror, baker

Big guy with a strong Scottish accent. You can sometimes hear some remnants of it when Rolf and I talk. After the First Wizarding War, he decided to stop working for the Ministry and opened up his bakery in London. His bakery does fairy well. Right at the end of my fourth year, Voldemort returns and the Ministry starts crumbling. He sees my mom struggle and decides to come back to the job to support her. He leaves the bakery under the hands of my uncle Grogan and my cousin Arno.

⸺ 𝕘𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕝��𝕟 𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 - my mum, Auror working for the British Ministry of Magic.

Extremely funny and energetic woman, but will not stand for any bullshit. Her Auror career is extremely important to her, I am proud to say that she is one of the best out there (I am totally not biased). But yeah, she's awesome. She has worked as a British agent in the American Ministry for a while as well.

⸺ 𝕘𝕣𝕠𝕘𝕒𝕟 𝕤𝕔𝕒𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣 - my uncle (my mum's brother) and godfather

Also known as Gigi, he's every fun uncle you've ever had stored into one person. He has taught every single Scamander kid how to curse, fight, and win arguments. Grogan knows how to get around London like no one else, and also seems to know half of the city's population. He has currently taken over my dad's bakery.

⸺ 𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕒 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕟𝕖𝕨𝕥 - grandparents, former American Auror and magizoologist.

Tina retired from her Auror duties, but Newt has never stopped studying magical creatures. Tina started to gain interest in magical creatures and loves helping her husband out. They are currently living in Dorset but spend several weeks a year travelling together. (sidenote but seeing them in black and white is so cute)

(i've got plenty of other family members here, but if i made a moodboard for each we'd be here for hours lmao, I might make them once I shift who knows)

[witheredhands-sharpenedbones]

oh the woes of being a middle child

lmao kidding im an attention whore

i figured out that the reason im so loud, dramatic, over the top ect is bc I want attention. i want my parents to stop forgetting im not in my room, i want to be the topic of the conversation instead of my sister, I want to be the one casting shadows instead of trying to crawl out of them. i think it all started in primary school. my older sister was well known, not always for the right reason but everyone knew of her. I was just her younger sister. people would come up to me and call me "kristas sister" i was not my own person. then as soon as i got to high school, it was the teachers. "Oh you're kristas sister?" they would ask, trying to hide a wince. She was a menace to the teachers, so that meant i was. screw the fact that i got higher grades, screw the fact that i was the quiet person that sat in the back silently doodling in my book. but now she's not at school. she dropped out and im still here. my teachers dont know who she is anymore. so why am I still being compared to her? "oh thank god you're not like krista" my friends say. MY friends say. These people barley know her. "but you're acting like krista!" my mum yells when i go without uniform. How crazy. Krista, the girl who made teachers quit? Krista, the girl who skipped so much teachers stopped asking if she was in class? Krista, the girl who was buying weed in an alley next to the school? im the same as her because i dare want to wear a comfortable t shirt? Yet, when i compare myself to her, point out that ive made it to my last year when she didn't, point out that ive never touched drugs, point out that at my age she had a baby, im in the wrong? Its alright for everyone else, just not me?

sometimes i fantasize about getting sick. I don't mean getting cold, i mean i wonder what my life would be like if i found out i had cancer. would my parents finally care? would they worry about me without brining krista into it? would i finally be the one that gets away with bending the rules? or what if i got into a car crash. would they finally let me have time to rest? would they finally spend money on me? I don't actually want cancer or to get hit by a car, but i do want the attention it would give me. I cant get it any other way. the last time i had my mothers full undivided attention, i was breaking down on the kitchen floor, choaking on my own tears. I win awards for my writing and get nothing, i lose my friends over petty arguments and get nothing, i make it the farthest in education in my family, and i. get. nothing. Krista got an A on an assessment and we went out for a celebration dinner. Krista called her friend a disgusting pig and she got hugs. Krista got suspended for calling a teacher a bitch and my mum took her out for fucking ice cream.

she has no expectations piled onto her, and yet she still gets every reward possible. I have every expectation, i am the one thats ment to graduate and become a lawyer and make all the money. i hate law. i hate it with a passion. i dream of being a writer, of my words and the hidden meanings in them making people i will never know feel seen, but my parents only see the successful one. the one that needs no help, the one that efortlessly gets the grades the first one couldn't.

every day is a desperate plea for attention. every breath, every word, every forced laugh, is me fighting to be seen, fighting for someone to see Jada, the Writer, not Kristas Sister.

[erps-kwerpse]

Reasons Why It’s Good I’m Not With Jen

Can’t dance. Has no rhythm at all. Used to find it adorable until I saw people laughing at her and hate to say I was embarrassed.

Once overheard her say ‘Let’s grab a cappuccino some time and we’ll talk’ to my teenage cousin who wanted advice about his university applications.

Generally has quite nineties ideas about what is glamorous, like cocktails or spending twenty pounds on a plate of tagliatelle in a ‘little place’.

Refuses to get to the airport a minute earlier than ninety minutes before a flight takes off.

Don’t have to persuade her to like where we live any more.

When she would go for a run in the evening she would come into the living room, stretch in front of the TV and say ‘What’s this?’ and make me explain the programme I was watching even though she knew what it was, just to make a point that she was exercising while I was watching Help, I’m a Hoarder!

Talked too much and too smugly about coming from a big family, as if it was her decision to have three siblings.

Always used to boast about how she’d reject an OBE if it were offered to her because of her apparent lefty republican values but would never know why she’d be offered an OBE in this fantasy when I asked her.

Would definitely never reject an OBE if it were offered to her.

Would take an hour to go to bed, no matter what time she got in, because she’d do a seven-step skincare routine, browse shopping apps and listen to podcasts. And yet only left twenty minutes from her alarm going off to having to leave the flat in the morning.

Refuses to get to the airport a minute earlier than ninety minutes before a flight takes off.

Always late for me, never late for work.

Can’t drive (childish).

Somehow managed to relate the plot of every film we watched back to her own life.

Her unbearable sister Miranda who carries nonsensical homemade signs at protests saying things like HISTORY IS WATCHING and who I know hates me because she always ranted about ‘straight white guys’ when she came round for dinner, no matter the topic. She used to say ‘Sorry, Andy’ but didn’t by the end. 

Her work friends: boring and cliquey and not fun or funny. 

All talk about being some big adventurer but never followed through. Wanted to take a year off to travel because she never had a gap year (‘next year’). Wanted to move to Paris (‘not the right time’). Wanted to get an undercut (‘work wouldn’t like it’). Wanted to go to an outdoor sex-themed rave (‘when my hay fever gets better’). 

Goes to therapy every week and has done since she was twenty-nine but would never tell me what they spoke about and I’ve never seen that she has anything wrong with her. 

Was too connected to dogs and spoke to them as if they were people.

Somehow managed to relate the plot of every film we watched back to her own life.

Her rude dad.

Her weird mum. 

Comes from a family who go on long circular walks and play board games.

Annoyingly loquacious and was on a debating team at her school, which meant I didn’t win an argument in nearly four years even when I was right about loads of them.

Always on at me about biting my nails, picking my feet, too much hair in my nostrils and bum hole etc., despite the fact she’s always fiddling with her cuticles.

Talked at the cinema.

Pretended she’s unsure about wanting children because she cares about the planet, but I think she just didn’t want children with me.

Would never talk seriously about having children, despite knowing how much I want to be a dad, but would sometimes say ‘That’s one of my baby names’ to people in conversation.

Those baby names included: Noah, Blue (?) and Zebedee.

Snob. Once said that she thought people who wear straw hats at the airport on the way to their summer holiday are ‘regional’.

Lingered too long in museums at every artefact or painting and would have a go at me if I walked through the exhibition too quickly.

Once saw her nod respectfully at a TINY JADE SPOON in the British Museum.

Only saw her cry a handful of times in nearly four years together and it wasn’t when we broke up.

One time was when we were watching a Joni Mitchell documentary.

Ruined my life.

Rea­sons Why I Loved Be­ing With Jen

I love what a good friend you are. You’re re­ally en­gaged with the lives of the peo­ple you love. You or­ga­nize lovely ex­pe­ri­ences for them. You make an ef­fort with them, you’re pa­tient with them, even when they’re side­tracked by their chil­dren and can’t pri­or­i­tize you in the way you pri­or­i­tize them.

You’ve got a gen­er­ous heart and it ex­tends to peo­ple you’ve never even met, whereas I think that ev­ery­one is out to get me. I used to say you were naive, but re­ally I was jeal­ous that you al­ways thought the best of peo­ple.

You are a bit too anx­ious about be­ing seen to be a good per­son and you def­i­nitely go a bit over­board with your left-wing pol­i­tics to prove a point to ev­ery­one. But I know you re­ally do care. I know you’d sign pe­ti­tions and help peo­ple in need and vol­un­teer at the home­less shel­ter at Christ­mas even if no one knew about it. And that’s more than can be said for a lot of us.

I love how quickly you read books and how ab­sorbed you get in a good story. I love watch­ing you lie on the sofa read­ing one from cover-to-cover. It’s like I’m in the room with you but you’re in a whole other gal­axy.

I love that you’re al­ways try­ing to im­prove your­self. Whether it’s running marathons or set­ting your­self chal­lenges on an app to learn French or the fact you go to ther­apy ev­ery week. You work hard to be­come a bet­ter ver­sion of your­self. I think I prob­a­bly didn’t make my ad­mi­ra­tion for this known and in­stead it came off as ir­ri­ta­tion, which I don’t re­ally feel at all.

I love how ded­i­cated you are to your fam­ily, even when they’re annoy­ing you. Your loy­alty to them wound me up some­times, but it’s only be­cause I wish I came from a big fam­ily.

I love that you al­ways know what to say in con­ver­sa­tion. You ask the right ques­tions and you know ex­actly when to talk and when to listen. Ev­ery­one loves talk­ing to you be­cause you make ev­ery­one feel im­por­tant.

I love your style. I know you think I prob­a­bly never no­ticed what you were wear­ing or how you did your hair, but I loved see­ing how you get ready, sit­ting in front of the full-length mir­ror in our bed­room while you did your make-up, even though there was a mir­ror on the dressing ta­ble.

I love that you’re mad enough to swim in the English sea in No­vem­ber and that you’d pick up spi­ders in the bath with your bare hands. You’re brave in a way that I’m not.

I love how free you are. You’re a very free per­son, and I never gave you the sat­is­fac­tion of say­ing it, which I should have done. No one knows it about you be­cause of your bor­ing, high-pres­sure job and your stuffy up­bring­ing, but I know what an ad­ven­turer you are un­der­neath all that.

I love that you got drunk at Jack­son’s chris­ten­ing and you al­ways wanted to have one more drink at the pub and you never com­plained about get­ting up early to go to work with a hang­over. Other than Avi, you are the per­son I’ve had the most fun with in my life.

And even though I gave you a hard time for al­ways try­ing to for always try­ing to im­press your dad, I ac­tu­ally found it very adorable because it made me see the child in you and the teenager in you, and if I could time-travel to any­where in his­tory, I swear, Jen, the only place I’d want to go is to the house where you grew up and hug you and tell you how beau­ti­ful and clever and funny you are. That you are spec­tac­u­lar even with­out all your sports trophies and mu­sic certificates and in­cred­i­ble grades and Ox­ford ac­cep­tance.

I’m sorry that I loved you so much more than I liked my­self, that must have been a lot to carry. I’m sorry I didn’t take care of you the way you took care of me. And I’m sorry I didn’t take care of my­self, ei­ther. I need to work on it. I’m pleased that our break-up taught me that. I’m sorry I went so mental.

I love you. I always will. I'm glad we met.

[outsideratheart]

It’s Not Your Fault (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: so my team lost in the cup final to penalties but writing this has made me feel a little bit better. Hope you guys like it!

Finals are hard, games against Canada are hard but this gold medal match against Canada will go down as one of the hardest games you have played in your career. The match ends 1-1 thanks to your 87th minute goal but extra time comes and goes with neither time scoring which means it is going to penalties.

When penalties were brought up in the match day minus 1 meeting nobody was surprised when Pinoe offered to take the first penalty and you put you hand up for the fifth. This is the way it had been for years as you two were the best penalty takers on the team, you hadn’t missed a penalty in years. 

Much like the game, the penalties are tied going into the fifth round. Christine Sinclair steps up and slots the ball in the bottom right corner, her experience showing when the ball hits the back of the net.

You walk to the penalty spot, place the ball the way you always did, you took two steps back and one to the right. You hit the ball perfectly but miraculously Stephanie Labbe gets her fingers to it sending the ball over the crossbar.

You had missed, you had cost the US a gold medal.

Walking back towards your team, the majority of them on the floor no doubt heartbroken by the loss. Christen is the first person you lock eyes with, you try your best to remain stoic but it would be impossible to not show the pain your are feeling. She wraps her arms around you whispering reassurances just as you did back in 2016 but her words fall on deaf ears.

You apologise to each one of your team mates and each one responds the same, it isn’t your fault, you knew it was though and nothing they say would make you think differently.

After the ceremony, you all go back to your hotel with your silver medals around your necks. Kelley tells you that they are going to celebrate but you aren’t in the mood, it was painskatingly obvious that it would take a while for you to get over this loss.

Due to the COVID regulations, all athletes had to leave Tokyo within 48 hours of their final event.

You team mates tried to persuade you to stay in Tokyo with them and explore the Olympic Village but you declined their invite. Your argument is that you aren’t in the best mood and didn’t want to ruin their day.

There is only one place you wanted to be and that is home.

“You sure we can’t change your mind?” Tobin asks as she helps you put your bags in the car.

“I’m afraid not Tobs. This is going to sting for a while and whilst I love you guys, I think I just need to go home” you explain.

Tobin and Christen watch as you leave the hotel.

“You need to text” Tobin begins to say but Christen cuts her off.

“I texted them as soon as Y/N told us she was leaving early. I even got the flight details off Ryan so that they will know when she lands” 

***************************

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Mapi asks as she helps Leila hang the banner.

Alba had suggested throwing you a welcome home party after the gold medal match. Truth is Alexia was planning on throwing you one to celebrate you winning gold but after watching the game she knew you would be in no mood, her sister however refused to drop the party idea.

“Y/N will love it, you know she loves a good party” Alba says.

This is one of the times Alexia is envious of her sister. Alba didn’t understand what losing a game felt like, let alone a final. Alba told Alexia that you would still want to celebrate the silver medal and after several attempts at telling her otherwise, Alexia gave up but told her sister to try and be sensitive to the situation.

Alexia is in the kitchen with her mum and Jenni.

“How is she doing?” Alexia’s mum asks.

“Honestly, I don’t know. She called me after the ceremony but didn’t say much” Alexia tells her.

When you called Alexia you did so with no intention of talking, you only wanted to hear her voice. She knew a little bit about what you were feeling since you lost the Supercopa semi final the same way earlier on in the year. When she asked to switch to FaceTime she could see the hurt on your face.

“I knew Y/N wouldn’t say anything so I text Christen. She told me that Y/N didn’t speak to anyone after the ceremony, she just went straight to her room. Some of the US players tried to get her to celebrate the fact that they won silver but Y/N said no”

The Putellas women listen as Jenni speaks.

“She’s here” Patri shouts from the living room window trying not to be seen. Alexia, her mum and Jenni join the rest of the team waiting for you to walk through the door.

“Surprise” everyone shouts as you enter.

You feel your throat close as you look at the people in front of you, the people who you now call your family.

Alba is the first one to you.

“Congratulations” She tells you and you thank her in response trying not to sound too ungrateful.

The rest of the team greet you in a similar way but most them just tell you they missed you and that they are happy to have to back in Barcelona.

Ironically the last person you get to is the first person you want to see. Alexia.

“Here’s me thinking I could surprise you by coming home early” You tell her as you wrap you arms around her waist, burying you face in her neck.

“And not let Alba through you a party” Alexia replies.

“So this was all Alba?” You say playfully.

“It was” Alexia argues “I would have been happy with a night in with you and Nala, speaking of” Alexia says as she bends downing picking the small dog up.

You take her from Alexia, letting the dogs lick your face.

“Nice you see you too Nala, I wish your mummy welcomed me home like this” you whined.

“The night is still young, mi amore” she says causing you to laugh “I did miss you Y/N and I know it didn’t end the way you” 

You cut Alexia off, you didn’t want your soon to be sour mood to ruin the night.

“I’m not talking about it Ale” you say before walking away “I’m going to take a quick shower, 19 hours of travelling feels disgusting” 

Alexia looks towards her mum, both of them sharing a concerned look.

You walk towards you bathroom but stop at mapi.

“I’ll be back in 5 minutes, any chance of a mapi sunrise?” You ask the defender.

“Extra strong?” Mapi suggests trying to gauge your mood.

“Absolutely” you sing as you walk down the hallway.

***************************

Once out of the shower you get the little plush toy you for Nala got from the olympic gift shop. When you enter the living room you give it to her and watch as she takes it to her bed.

You go to the kitchen, taking a seat on the countertop. You thank mapi as she gives you your drink and watch as she goes to talk to Leila.

“Is she the only one who gets a present?” Jenni asks as she stands next to you pointing to Nala.

“As promised I have a team USA Y/N Y/L/N jersey in my bag for you” you tell her.

“I feel honoured” she jokes.

“You should be, it’s even from the gold medal match” you say.

Jenni hears the way your voice changes when you mention the game.

“It wasn’t your fault. I know you blame your self, Christen told me” Jenni tries to comfort you but fails.

“You’ve been talking about me behind my back” your insecurities now coming to the surface.

“Y/N, it wasn’t like that” Jenni tries to defend herself “I know what it’s like, I missed mine against atleti”

You scoff at her response.

“That was a domestic cup semi final, it’s not the same” you explain.

At this point Alba came to join the two of you.

“Let’s not talk about football” Alba suggests but it is what she says next that pisses you off “I mean I get you’re upset but I think you need to let it go” 

“Alba!” Jenni snaps getting the attention of everyone in the room.

“No Jenni” Alba looks at you “I have thrown you this party and your mood is ruining it. It’s a little dramatic don’t you think. So what you missed the penalty that cost you gold, you still have a silver medal”

You have to bite your tongue. You know that Alba has had a couple of drinks and she isn’t purposely trying to hurt you, she didn’t understand football and the pressure that comes with it.

“Silver isn’t good enough Alba” you say as you walk away and towards the balcony of yours and Alexia’s apartment.

Alexia goes to follow you out there but her mum grabs her arm.

“Let me” she says.

You feel your chest tighten and you throat close as the cool Barcelona air hits you. As you lean on the rails you hear the door open and close.

“Ale, just give me 5 minutes and I will be fine” you say not looking behind you.

“Carino” Eli says causing you to turn around “You’re not ok and that is ok” 

When you see your girlfriend’s mum, words fail you. Eli has been like a mother to you ever since you moved to Barcelona in 2015.

“You know you can’t lie to me. We’re worried about you” she says referring to her and Alexia.

“I’m fine” you repeat.

Eli shakes her head.

“How many times have you said that in the past 48 hours?” She asks and you cannot answer, not because you can’t but because you don’t know, you have lost count.

“You don’t have to pretend around us. We are family” she says and she holds her arms out. You take a couple of steps forward and let her wrap her arms around you.

“It’s all my fault Eli. They counted on me to score, to keep them in the game but instead I caused us to lose. I wouldn’t blame them if they hated me” you told her.

Anyone outside of football may have called you dramatic but Eli understood although sometimes she didn’t have a choice, her daughter and someone who she hoped would one day become her daughter-in-law, are professional athletes.

Eli let you rant having a feeling this is the first time you are saying what you really feel.

“I practice them with the girls all the time after training but when I came down to it I failed”

Words fail you as your vision gets blurry with the tears that brimmed your eyes. Alexia’s mum felt them on her shirt, she rubbed circles on your back in attempt to sooth you.

What you didn’t know is that everyone inside is watching the moment between the two of you. Alexia heart warmed as she watched you confine in her mum, albeit she was a little jealous it wasn’t her.

“Have you finished?” Eli asks you.

You take a step back, brows furrowed in confusion, regardless you nod your head with a small smile on your face.

“First of all, I am so proud of you. Alexia told me that you said it was really difficult being so secluded and I saw you during the games, you were sweating and exhausted and that was only in the games that were 90 minutes”

Thinking back to it, there were a lot of factors that affected your playing but you never made excuses and you weren’t going to start now.

“Another thing” Eli paused “We all watched the gold medal match, it was one of the greatest games you have ever played, you were all over the pitch, covering for your team mates who made mistakes. Ale was shouting at the screen telling you to calm down or you would hurt yourself” she smiles thinking about her concerned her daughter was “and it was your goal that kept you in the game”

When Eli looks you in the eye she sees that her words aren’t having the affect she hoped.

“You know Alexia blames herself for the supercopa loss” she tells you changing to subject.

“What why? She played incredibly” your inner captain coming to light.

“She told me that if only she would have done more during the game, perhaps she could have scored or assisted you” 

You shake your head at what you are hearing.

“It wasn’t her fault. We win together, we lose together, it is never one person’s” you stop talking when you see a grin on Eli’s face and you realise what she is doing.

“Ok, I see what you are doing but it isn’t the same” you say trying to defend yourself. You turn away from her choosing to look over the city of Barcelona instead.

“I know it’s different and I know that this will hurt for a while but it isn’t your fault” 

Your roll your eyes at her words, words that you have heard from so many people.

“Say it” she commands.

“It wasn’t my fault” you say and it takes a huge weight off your shoulders.

Eli smiles and nods her head as she feels like she has accomplished her mission.

You both go back into the apartment. When you see Alexia you smile which causes her to smile, you might not be ok but she sees her Y/N for the first time that night. You talk with Mapi and Leila while Alexia thanks her mum.

***************************

The party last until the early hours, Alexia notices your tiredness and politely tells everyone to go home.

You’re sat on the sofa with Alexia tucked into your side.

“I have been waiting to have you to myself all night” Alexia says “I love those girls but nothing compares to this”

You place a kiss on her temple “I love playing for the US but the longer I’m with you, the harder it is when I’m away”

“You know if we get married, you could play for Spain” Alexia says looking up at you.

“If we get married?” You pretend to be offended.

“Ok, when we get married” she corrects herself.

“That’s better but it’s never going to happen. Like I said I love playing for them even if it hurts sometimes” you say.

You both sit in silence for a few moments. Alexia can feel you heartbeat quicken and she knows you are thinking about the game in your head.

“I know you’re hurting and it will hurt for a while but I have an idea” your girlfriend tells you “We could go to Ibiza a little bit earlier and then meet the rest of the girls later on” she suggests.

“I like the thought of that. Just the two of us, sound amazing” you smile at thought of you and Alexia lounging by the pool, taking a stroll along the beach in the evenings.

“You know it’s just the two us now” Alexia says raising her eyebrows.

You lean down pressing your lips against hers, it is the first kiss the two of you have shared in weeks. Alexia pulls away first causing you to frown but then she stands up holding her hands out which you take.

Once you are both on your feet, you lips are against hers straight away. The kiss deepens almost immediately, your hands move from her face to her hips to back of her thighs, she jumps and wraps her legs around your waist. You walk the two of you to your bedroom, Alexia making it her personal mission to make you forget all about Tokyo.

You are the first to wake up, alexia still asleep with her arm draped around your torso. When you look down you realise that although you lost an important game you would always be a winner because you could call the beautiful girl in world yours.

[newtonsheffield]

I think Simon would be more offended then Daphne about Gregory not even considering Amelia. I think it might spark a tiny competition between Simon and Anthony about whose child is cuter. Meanwhile with Colin: "Okay Amelia and Neddy, why don't we go play at the park? And then maybe you two can help me break the news to Auntie Eloise that I've been seeing her best friend for the past four months."

Let's be honest, it goes down like that fight in Bridget Jones's Diary

Simon just fully slapping Anthony on the back of the head like "So...you think your son's cuter than my daughter?"

And Anthony's just there, making his candles like "... Is this a joke? Of course he is. His Mum is Kate, the hottest woman alive. Amelia's Mum is Daphne."

"I can actually hear you, Anthony." Daphne sighs from the living room. "Means a lot."

"Have you considered maybe i think Daphne's the hottest woman alive?"

"Dude! That's my baby sister you're talking about!" Anthony hissed. throwing his ladle down. "Now look what you've made me done! I've put down my candle ladle!"

"Well you were the one who called her a troll!"

"He never said that, technically you've just called me a troll." Daphne sighed. "I'm not sure you're winning this argument, Simon, Honey."

"To be fair, Amelia was the cutest kid alive: And then we had Edmund! Now yes, I think my son's adorable! His middle name is Apollo! All the Gods were scared of Apollo because they thought he was going to be that fucking cool!" Anthony said, aiming a ludicrously off balance kick at his brother in law, missing entirely.

"Oh will you give over about Percy Jackson!" Simon's kick also failed to land. "It's all I've heard about since we were 13!"

"I will not! It's diverse and Percy had ADHD and Dyslexia! Like me!"

"What are they arguing about this time?" Kate sighed a little bemusedly watching her husband nearly strangle himself with his own apron, just arrived home.

"Started on whose kid was cuter, and now we're back at the Percy Jackson debate." Daphne said dryly. "We actually have sex with them. That's a choice we continue to make."

"Not great when you put it like that." Kate agrees.

"Simon No! This is my best candle making apron! How would you feel if I ruined your crochet hooks?!"

[harfanfare]

How to win a heart of Jamil Viper?

1.   Don’t be a typical hero(ine).

Contrary to the popular romance trope, tripping over the air to land on a certain cool-looking boy, and dropping all carried things, wouldn’t make Jamil fall for you. Instead, just falling because of you and sharply crashing with a floor would make him rather cautious around you and keeping a distance whether he has anything in his hands.

Believe him or not, he doesn’t need another ditsy and erratic person around him—like a certain leader from a certain dorm, who happens to create a mess anytime, anywhere.

So, let someone else be the protagonist of the story.

In that situation, you may be a side character that gets its way through obstacles and classic borders of story scheme and is much more interesting than the main persona.

That’s how you get his attention.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

2.   Be a help.

Oh, a person that would help him with his chores means to him much more than gold. Sometimes.

“Can I help you anyhow?” you asked when Jamil was going to the kitchen after a daily training with the rest of the dorm. He lifted his eyebrow, waiting for further explanation. “I mean with cleaning or something.”

Jamil glanced at you, not sure about your intentions.

Who would like to do something to help without having something in return? With only your will? No, it doesn’t work well in the same sentence.

But some help would be great. So, he just needs to keep sure that he won’t fall into any trap for letting you help, yes?

“Sure,” he said casually, not letting his face nor voice reveal any of his thoughts he run into. “[Name], right? Could you bring and clean the dishes from longue?”

And you helped. You really helped him a lot, staying over two hours till everything was shimmering with cleanliness and your abrupt desire to clean something and be more useful, burned out.

“Thank you for your help,” Jamil said, after correcting the last cushion in the Scarabia’s longue. You flashed him a smile. “But why, if I can ask, did you offer it in the first place?”

He got a quick response in form of a shrug.

“I... don’t really know,” you admitted, glancing at him. “...But you don’t complain, no?”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

3.   Be his dish taster.

“The way to a one's heart is through his stomach.”

“Try it,” Jamil handed you a spoon filled with some kind of stew. You consentaneously your opened mouth and drank all content of the spoon. Your mouth filled with many flavours and you couldn’t be sure if you ever ate that good combination in your life. “How was that?”

“Excellent as always.”

You said it all sincerely and maybe would have asked for seconds, if not the fact that Jamil already turned his back to you and got back to pots. He took another spoon and tried the dish himself, clicked his tongue and added more salt.

Once again, he turned to you and handed you a spoon.

“And how was that now?”

“Excellent as always,” you chuckled as he frowned at you.

“Don’t you think that you should add more words to your dictionary? You say the same thing on every dish,” once he said that you finished drying the last plate and preparing silverware for today’s fiesta.

“Don’t you think that I won’t be able to eat anything at the party when I will eat enough of your cooking now to write a poem about each of your culinary masterpieces?” Jamil chuckled slightly at your words.

“So, you don’t want any more?” he teased, but inside he was really flushed. Praises or cajolery, it all makes his heart skip a beat.

Finally, there was someone who appreciated all work he’s done.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

4.   Distract Kalim from him.

“You really shouldn’t go there,” you said, your voice as serious as you could keep it. “I mean, what if there is a monster who wants to kidnap you?”

Kalim cocked his head a little, considering your words. After a while, he nodded, fully convinced by your argument.

“You’re right,” he said. “I will warn others about this..!”

Kalim turned on his heel and spotted some people returning from morning classes. He ran to them, greeting them and walking with them as he tried to introduce the situation.

Still not believing Kalim fall for your words, you were standing alone in the centre of the corridor, a bit dumbstruck to discover the excuse Jamil came up with work.

“...Are you sure, you don’t want to tell him that some student’s from other dorm are here?” you asked as if saying to yourself your thoughts aloud.

But there was someone, someone who was hiding behind a big potted palm. He only gave you thumbs up as a preventative measure if there was still a chance that Kalim didn’t just dash through the halls to talk with some dorm students.

Jamil only looked at you and mouthed “No. Party. Today.” and quietly shifted to the corner, where the wall hid him and he could finally get up.

Mission accomplished.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

5.   Get rid of bugs for him.

“[Name],” Jamil called out to you, bursting through the door to your room. He looked very pale and panic was staying still in his eyes. “Would you be so kind to... deal with an intruder?”

You frowned a little before biting back a sigh. At first, you were concerned. Even Kalim getting in a serious mess didn’t make him react that seriously. But then you remembered that there was one thing that could make Jamil call you out of nowhere, acting like in an emergency. Emergency only in eyes of few.

Bugs.

Jamil never admitted to you that he is scared of them, but every time you brought up the topis, he snapped his fingers at it, saying that insects just aren’t his favourite kind of animal.

“Hmm~ Maybe after I finish this chapter,” you said, conspicuously turning a page of the book you were reading and with all your will trying not to smile nor to look at the wincing expression Jamil was wearing.

“[Name],” he said, his voice shaking with anger or frustration. “Go there right now or I will make sure you won’t get today’s dinner.”

...No dinner?

“Yes, mum,” you said putting the textbook aside and getting up from the comfortable couch.

Of all people, Jamil is probably the only one—well, maybe also Trey—that could make those words sound dangerous. Like, no dinner made by the best chef in Scarabia? It would be pure agony.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

6.   Have competitions.

“Aren’t you a little too good in this game?” you asked, regretfully placing pieces of the game back to the initial places.

He gave you a smile that slowly turned into a smirk, as you groaned at the next round you have lost. You flopped on the big pillow, all your will to play destroyed, as you sank between really cosy material.

“I told you I won’t give you a head start,” Jamil said, his steady voice mixed with amusement. “You even told me that you don’t want me to go easy on you before the game started.”

“Too bad,” you clicked your tongue at his response. “I was sure that after watching you play with Kalim, I remembered your tactics.”

You’ve watched at least eight rounds of Jamil and Kalim playing this game, and when it was coming to end, you were almost sure you understood and remembered the technique he was using in certain situations.

But, to your disappointment, it looked like he – even without using any of his tricky cards in his sleeve – was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, because, after three moves, you knew that probably all three were wrong when the opponent was Jamil.

“You gained nothing by it. Of course, I lost to him or... there would be a trouble,” he exclaimed. “You are different.”

“Oh, thank you. I can lose but he can’t, huh?” you frowned at him as he almost choked on the surprise he felt by hearing your response.

“...Yeah, that’s it. Just it.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

7.   Have study sessions together.

“One class had a test before us,” you said scrolling through your class chat group. “They said that there wasn’t any question about these dates.”

Jamil scribbled down years of the most important magic wars, from time to time looking at you who were listing some test exercises and feeling somehow unmotivated to even properly open a history book.

Your notebook was lying in front of you, today’s lesson topic on the top of the page and many detailed doodles on its margin.

Once again... what was the unit you are having an exam about?

“It doesn’t mean, we won’t get a question about that,” Jamil tried to convince you, sliding textbook your way. “Now, read that aloud, while I prepare notes.”

You blinked twice as if woken up from daydreaming. Were you daydreaming?

“Are you sure..? I mean, all I will do is reading. Wouldn’t you rather want us to read it silently and then share our notes after this?”

“Don’t think about it much. I really like your voice,” he said it so thoughtlessly you weren’t sure if said it as an unarguable fact or just his smooth talker abilities were showing off, “and gave me your notes for the last exam so we’re even. And you won’t do any good notes when you’re sulking over this exam like that.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

8.   Remind him to take breaks.

“You won’t get out of here,” you exclaimed spreading your arms as shielding a door from him. “Not a chance.”

Jamil stood a feet next to you, grimace stretching on his lips as he knew what’s coming up.

“I have to go, [Name].”

He tried to get through you, lightly removing you of his way. He wasn’t a fan of using force on anyone, and he was a hater of using force on you.

Much more than a speakable argument, you were pushing each other closer or further from the door, having a staring contest and reciting all the things he had done in the past two days; except for his daily duties and with the upcoming birthday party of few students of Scarabia who happen to have a celebration in the same day, the number of tasks he was given was overwhelming.

“Stop it!” you protested, trying to push him back. “I am seriously worried about you! Please... take a break.”

Every time he was coming closer to the exit, you stepped back, blocking his way, bumping into him and having to try again.

“You know I have a lot of work to do,” he said, finally stepping back and giving you a break from trying to separate him from the door. “I can’t just give up all my duties, even if I would love a break.”

“I can do it for you,” you quickly offered. “But please, now, go to sleep and don’t you dare touch anything related to school or cleaning.”

...What a weird request.

When was the last time anyone told him to take a break?

He doesn’t remember.

But now, he can say it was recently, all thanks to you.

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

9.   Promise.

It was really hard for him once all his hard work to keep a high position within the dorm students suddenly dropped after his overblot accident.

“[Name]...”

However, the thing he regretted the most was hurting you. Taking the whole dorm under his unique magic spell, the hypnosis also affected you, making you another servant of his. Even you weren’t the one he ordered a lot, you felt betrayed that even the friendship you two developed didn’t stop him from overblotting.

And if he knew that you would avoid him like fire after the accident, he would probably hesitate a lot.

His throat tightened as he saw you one day in the corridor, looking somehow lonely and tired. He dashed to you, beseeching you to talk to him.

“Sorry for asking, but, Jamil, you don’t hate me, right?” you asked with a pain in your voice. You couldn’t even look at his face, feeling the incomprehensible weight in your gaze. “I mean... Do you only act in front of me friendly? ...Like... with Kalim..?”

“No, no, no,” he protested quickly, making it almost sound like a plea. He gently grabbed your hands, praying that you won’t harshly jerk them back because of him. “I don’t hate you. I really like you. I mean every word I said to you.”

The feeling of release struck you like thunder, you took a big breath, your eyes watering. You slowly reached for his touch, finally ending in a hug.

Jamil ran his fingers through your hair, smelling a familiar, reassuring scent of yours. After a while, he whispered a question.

“So... could you please not avoid me anymore? I know it will be hard to bring up the same relationship we had, but... could you give me a second chance?”

“Okay. But under one condition,” you said, slightly backing off from him. Before he could wonder about the term you would require from him, you finished your thought. “You must be honest with me. I... don’t know what will I do if it all turned to be a play...”

“I will,” he replied, putting his whole heart in these two words. “I will always be honest with you. And won’t ever use my unique magic on you.”

You looked up at him, a small smile starting to rise and heart-throbbing more wilder with his words. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

‏‏‎ ‎‏‏‎ ‎

10.            Make him confess.

“What are you doing this weekend?”

Jamil appeared in front of you, almost like popping out of nowhere, as you were done with today’s lessons and slowly heading to your dorm. He caught up with you, changing his pace to match yours.

“I have no plans. I will be probably sleeping or something,” you answered honestly, shrugging and reminding yourself that you should finally hang out with some people from your class to make sure your social life isn’t all over dead.

You were walking in quietly before Jamil broke silence and spoke up again.

“Would you like to go somewhere?” he asked his voice only giving a hint of nervousness—it was nothing compared to the stress he felt inside. It was just a “yes or no” question, he knew that he will meet in future many amazing people like you and shouldn’t be stressed, but having someone so dear to him being asked for a meeting where he will try to finally out find his feeling... it is stressful.

“Hehe~ what, are you asking me on the date?” you teased, but much more than mocking, you were hoping for an answer. For the honest answer, he promised you.

“...And what if I am?” he asked, his voice a bit hushed, but steady.

You felt how heat was coming all the way up to your cheeks, although you tried your best not to let anything more, as if a blush wasn’t obvious enough, know how excited and spellbound you are.

“Then, your wish is my command.”

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 142.4: Insult (Part 4)

(You can start at Part One if you like) cw: mentions a teen trying to commit suicide off screen- she is fine, but I wanted to be careful of any triggers that people may have.

Another week passed in much the same fashion and Harry was as confused about where they stood and about his feelings as ever, but he didn’t mind being along for the ride.

“Well, obviously T’Challa is the best,” Harry said, dunking a biscotti into his coffee and taking a bite before continuing. “First, he’s black.”

“That’s not a good defining characteristic of a superhero!” Draco argued. “So is Luke Cage, but nobody is walking around calling him the best superhero.”

“That’s because Luke Cage is just like some super strong guy. T’Challa is the Black Panther. He is a good and just king. He’s a good man and he wants to help the world. And he’s like chill, you know? Like if any other superhero found the person that killed their dad they would have killed him out of vengeance. And you know it’s true,” Harry says, pointing at Malfoy, “Because we saw it in Civil War. Tony lost his mind and tried to kill him and Ste,ve, who was like his bestie. He’s the most level headed, badass superhero out there and you cannot fight me on that.”

“Okay,” Draco said, “But Natasha Romanov is still obviously the best superhero.”

“She doesn’t even have any superpowers!” Harry exclaimed.

“Precisely!” he rebutted. “She doesn’t have any superpowers given to her by some magic flower juice, or a stupid radio active spider, or from being rich. She is just a badass, full stop. And-” Draco said, continuing over Harry trying to make his counter argument, “She is a woman.”

(Read more below the cut)

“Oh whatever-”

“No, if T’Challa being black can be a point in his favor then Natasha being a woman is definitely a point in her’s. I mean you’d have to be blind as a bat to miss the misogyny in most superhero movies and yet, in spite of the fact that they make her wear slutty costumes and heels, she can still kick every single one of their arses five ways to Sunday.”

“You’re relentless,” Harry said.

He pointed to himself, “Solicitor. I’m literally paid to win arguments.”

“Okay," Harry said, refocusing himself, "those points notwithstanding, T’Challa also proved himself without the help of superpowers or did you miss the part where he had the powers like drained out of his body.”

“Did you miss the part where he was beaten and literally died without his powers? And then only the magic flower juice gave him the power to beat Kilmonger?”

“But Kilmonger also had the power of the flower then-”

“Yes but he also had the disadvantage of not knowing Wakanda the way that T’Challa did. At the end of the day, that’s what saved T’Challa.”

“Not true! He is the-”

Draco’s phone startled them both when it started ringing, “Bugger,” he grumbled as he dug around in his bag for his phone. “Hello?”

Harry waited, hoping irrationally that this wouldn’t be an emergency that Draco needed to come in for.

The colour drained from Draco’s face, “What?” he asked, sounding aghast. “Is she alright?”

He looked up at Harry, his eyes wide and panicked. “Yes, which hospital?” Grabbing a napkin off the counter and a pen out of his bag he started to scribble on the back, “Room 304,” he said. “Can you get me the address?” He hummed affirmations as he continued writing. “Got it. I’m on my way. Thank you, Bernard.”

He hung up and looked at Harry for a moment, looking shell shocked. “What is it?” Harry asked, his heart beating a bit too fast with nervousness. “Are you alright?”

He shook his head slowly, “One of the children, well she’s a teen actually,” he said. “She got placed in her mum’s custody yesterday. They found her in her room this morning with an open bottle of pain medicine, they think she tried to kill herself.”

“Oh Merlin,” Harry breathed. “Is she going to be alright?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head again, “I need to get to the hospital.”

“Wait,” Harry said when Draco had started to stand, “Let me call you a cab. It’s pouring and it will take you forever to walk there.” He pulled his mobile out of his pocket, “I have their app.”

Draco sat back down and put his head in his hands.

“Which hospital?”

“St. Pancras,” he replied, his voice sounded hollow and it made something unpleasant creep up Harry’s spine.

Harry finished filling in the information, “Oh good,” he said when he’d finished. “There’s someone in the area. They’ll be here in less than five minutes.”

Draco looked up at him and nodded. “Thank you.”

Tentatively, Harry reached out across the counter and placed his hand over Draco’s. He wasn’t quite sure what he was supposed to say, helplessness in the face of people’s distress and grief had been one of the reasons that he’d fled the wizarding world in the first place and he felt that familiar feeling of inadequacy surge in his chest. “What can I do?” he asked.

He looked up at him once more before turning his hand over and clasping Harry’s in his. “This is good,” he said softly.

Harry swallowed around the lump in his throat and nodded. “Would it help if I conceded that Black Widow is the best superhero?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Do you believe that she is?”

“Of course not, don’t be ridiculous,” he said, giving Draco’s hand a light squeeze.

“Then, no. I like to win my arguments fair and square.”

They sat in silence then, hands clasped. Harry hoped it was enough.

The cab pulled up outside the door, “That’s for you,” he said.

Draco nodded and gave Harry’s hand a gentle squeeze, “Thank you.”

“Any time,” Harry replied. “Don’t forget your umbrella,” he added as Draco stood.

Draco picked it up and was out the door without another word and Harry watched him go, hoping that the girl would be alright, hoping Draco would be alright.

His skin tingled still where he’d held Draco’s hand in his and Harry couldn’t help but wonder how long the feeling would stay.

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

She was going to be fine, Draco told him the next morning. “She’s going to need to see a therapist regularly and they kept her in the hospital but she’s going to be okay.”

“Are you alright?” Harry asked as he nudged a cinnamon and honey latte across the counter at Draco.

“Of course,” he said before taking a sip of the latte. “Mmmh,” he said, sounding surprised. “What’s this one?”

“Cinnamon and honey,” Harry replied and he didn’t press. It wasn’t his place and as long as Draco was going to be okay, it didn’t bother him. “I made these especially for you yesterday,” he said, in lieu of asking more questions. He uncovered a plate of macarons and set it in front of Draco. “You didn’t tell me your favorite, so I just saved one of each.”

“You didn’t need to do all of this.”

Harry shrugged and pointedly did not say that yes he had because he’d spent the entire day an anxious mess and baking was the only thing that made him feel better. “Well, I had to bake something for the people who frequent my shop.”

Draco’s eyes were soft around the edges, “Thank you.”

“Well, don’t thank me until you’ve tasted them. Maybe they’re awful.”

“Tell me what their flavors are.”

“You should eat this one first,” Harry said pointing to a green one. “It was a new recipe it’s a green, matcha tea flavor and I think they turned out quite poorly. I won’t be making those again.”

Obediently, Draco picked up that one and took a bite. He chewed thoughtfully, “Well the textures are quite nice.”

“That’s because it’s a macaron,” Harry said.

“The flavor is rather delicate.”

He snorted, “That’s a nice way to put it. Raspberry,” he said pointing to the pink one next. “I can never get the raspberry jam to reduce down as much as I’d like. It’s always a bit runny.”

Draco picked it up and bit into it, some of the jam coating his finger.

Harry turned to grab a napkin but by the time he’d turned back Draco was already licking it up off his finger. And that sight should not have made Harry feel like a snitch had taken up residence in his belly.

“Delicious,” Draco praised, taking the napkin out of his hand and wiping his finger.

He swallowed and looked down at the plate, “Lemon. They turned out quite well but I never advise ending with something tart, and it will almost feel like a palate cleanser.”

Long pale fingers reached down to pick up the bright yellow macaron and he took a bite and immediately let out a small groan of delight.

Which also did strange things to Harry’s stomach.

“Really good,” he murmured around his mouthful.

“Let me get you a glass of water,” he said, hastily. “Hot drinks don’t wash macarons down well.”

He poured them both a glass of water so he would have something to do with his hands and passed one to Draco who took an appreciative sip.

“That one’s lavender and vanilla,” he said, pointing next to the pale purple one. “I hate those,” he added. “I think floral tastes are weird, though.”

“That’s because you have an unrefined palate,” Draco informed him as he picked up the lavender macaron. He bit into it and let out a delighted little noise. “Exquisite. I’ll have to hire you for Mother’s birthday, she would love these.”

Harry watched him chew and swallow another bite and suddenly felt very surprised that he’d been able to watch Draco eat without having a full blown quidditch match happening in his gut before this.

“Last two,” Draco prompted. “You’ve not steered my wrong thus far.”

He pointed to the brown one, which was truthfully the ugliest but also his own personal favorite. “Espresso and chocolate.”

“Oooh,” Malfoy said, raising his eyebrows at it before picking it up. He took a bite and his eyes closed and he let out a sigh of delight. “This is amazing.”

“Those are my favorite,” Harry said with a smile.

“I can’t imagine a more delicious macaron than this, I think you’ve led me astray.”

“Stop being dramatic. I would never,” Harry replied, hoping he’d been right. “Try the last one.” He’d never made these before and had been surprised when they’d turned out to be brown rather than orange.

“You’re not going to tell me what it is?”

“No, I’m doing what I should have done with all of them and making you guess.”

“That would have been fun,” he said, eyes glittering at the thought of a challenge. “Next time.” He picked it up and bit into it. His eyes fluttered shut and he let out a borderline pornographic moan. “Pumpkin,” he groaned.

Harry smirked, “I thought you’d like those.”

“That is perfection,” Draco said, opening his eyes to look at Harry. “I’ve never had a pumpkin macaron before.”

“What can I say? I’m a culinary genius.”

“Before I ate that, I would have scoffed at you.”

He laughed, “I’m not a culinary genius. But I do feel glad that I saved two more of those for you to take to work with you and enjoy later,” he said as he took a paper bag out from under the counter and slid it to Draco.

“Remember when we had that talk about sweets going straight to my arse?” he asked with a groan. “My trousers will not thank you.”

He shrugged one shoulder, “But everyone else will.”

Draco’s mouth opened in a stunned little “o” of surprise and Harry couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing.

“The look on your face,” he said through his chortle. “Merlin, it’s like you don’t actually know that you’re attractive and that literally everyone is probably staring at your arse when you walk away.”

He glared at Harry, “Says the man with the triceps.”

“Triceps?” Harry asked, looking down at his forearms. “What about them?”

“I don’t know,” he said with more than a little exasperation. “But I’m sure people are staring at them all day when you lift things and put them away because you couldn’t possibly leave your shirt sleeves rolled down like a civilized person.”

Harry felt his cheeks warm and his mouth stretched into a smile. “Like a good strong forearm, do you?” he teased.

“Maybe,” Draco said with a shrug of his shoulder, raising his latte to his lips. But there was also a tell tale flush traveling up his neck and coloring his cheeks. Harry had this strange compulsion to reach out and touch them, to see if his skin was as warm as it looked.

“Like to imagine what kind of use a person could have for strong forearms?” he asked, suddenly a bit aroused himself about thoughts of creative uses for men with strong forearms.

“Potter-” Draco said, his voice low and gravelly.

“Harry,” he replied, he realized the two of them had gotten a bit close to one another, leaning across the counter until they were mere inches apart.

“Harry,” Draco repeated, sounding a bit dazed. He had started to tilt forward and for one exhilarating moment, Harry wondered if the other man was going to kiss him.

His phone rang.

The two of them flew apart, like startled children caught doing something they weren’t supposed to be. Draco tipped over his latte in his haste to draw back and get to his phone and Harry stumbled and almost fell over.

He pretended not to notice that Draco had to dig around for longer than he normally did, “Salazar, where is the bloody thing?” Finally he found it and pulled it out of his bag, “Yes, hello?”

Finally managing to get himself back to some semblance of normal, Harry magicked away the spilled latte and quickly started preparing a new one for Draco to take with him.

“No, it’s fine Bernard. You weren’t interrupting anything.”

Harry glanced up at that to see that Draco’s eyes were on him.

“Yes, I left the file for the Le’Rue case on Gibbons desk before I left last night.” There was a pause and Draco rolled his eyes. All of the softness he had when he entered Harry’s shop in the morning disappeared in an instant. “Well, I can’t be held accountable for the man’s irresponsibility and untidiness. It isn’t my fault that his office is a black hole that things get sucked into and are never seen again.”

He paused to listen again and Harry slid his fresh latte across the counter. He mouthed Thank You to Harry before clasping the cup in his hand and standing. “Yes of course I made copies. I’m not an idiot.” He tilted the phone down away from his mouth to say, “See you tomorrow, Harry.”

“See you,” Harry responded weakly, his heart thudding hard in his chest.

He spared him one more smile before turning his attention back to Bernard. “No, I obviously kept the originals and gave Gibbons the copies. Again, I am a very intelligent man and this is not my first trip around the sun,” Draco said as he made his way out the door.

With a little sigh Harry started cleaning up, cleaning the machine and taking the plate back into the kitchen. When he came back out to wipe down the counter where Draco had been sitting he saw that there was a paper bag on the stool next to the one he’d previously occupied. He opened it and peeked inside to see a green apple and a sandwich on plain bread white bread.

What a sad lunch.

It then occurred to him that this sad lunch was in fact Draco’s lunch, and that didn’t seem right at all because Harry could scarcely imagine him eating something so mundane and simple. Nevertheless, he glanced at the clock and decided when Greta got in he was going to leave the store to return his lunch to him.

He also went back to the kitchen and tried to decide which treat he was going to include, because that lunch looked positively unappetizing.

He settled on a miniature pumpkin apple crumble he was still trying to perfect. He’d planned to only let his staff eat it to tell him what it needed to make it perfect, but he supposed Draco could try it, too since he loved pumpkin so much.

Nodding to himself he decided that this would be the perfect thing to do. And, he couldn't help but think, it would give him the opportunity to see Draco one more time today.

Was he in too deep already? He didn't really know and frankly, he didn't really care.

-----------

Part 3 | Part 5