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burnedbyshoto · 3 years

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for want of a bento box

– It’s plain and simple, you see, someone is stealing your bento boxes and you will find your lunch thief! Or, in which Todoroki Shouto keeps taking your bento box and you declare war.

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: fluff, cursing, shouto is a bad chef, I believe I made reader pretty gender neutral but I whipped this out in two hours and I can no longer remember if I used any fem!pronouns but im pretty sure I didn’t

word count: 3,060

a/n: this is for the wonder coworker bnharem collab! I had intended on writing a completely different theme and storyline but was very overwhelmed by how much time it actually needed to be written compared to the amount of time I actually had. that version will be out another time! but for now, enjoy some pure flufffffff!!!!

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Having a normal, functioning, well-paying job was probably the most desirable thing to you. It wasn’t to say that you were slacking or that you were homeless, broke, and never to be seen again because you were that in debt. But it was nice having a job!

When you entered the prestigious Toshinori Company, you joined not as an entry-level job employee but as a senior representative. You thought it was crazy.

It had to be crazy.

You had no prior experience, and now you were going to be in charge and the lead in certain areas?!

“And that was the entire layout of the office!” Mina chirped happily, throwing herself onto the desk chair across from yours with a big smile. “Any questions?”

“I don’t think so,” you mutter, brows creased as you look around the room again.

The office space was ample, sleek, open. Each desk has its own grand computer that you currently could not afford with your own money, comfortable chairs, and beautiful wood desks. It was elegant, far superiorly fancy, and yet, you didn’t feel out of place. Strange.

“Oh!” you say with a roll of your eyes as you reach below your desk to bring up your packed lunch. “Where was the break room again? I need to refrigerate my food!”

“Omg, of course, come this way!” Mina grins, standing up and motioning you to follow her. You smile gratefully and do.

The entire way to the office, Mina takes the time to point at the many different people on the floor and give them names. Everyone so far had sort of acknowledged you earlier as Mina was giving you the official tour. Some were much more open and friendly, and some had sneers or blank stares that left you dumbstruck.

Definitely a personable group.

“Hm, well, I guess Todoroki-kun isn’t here today?” Mina mutters as you enter the break room that has couches and comfortable-looking chairs. “Such a shame! You would have loved to see the office hottie!”

You snort at that, lips curled into a granulous smile as you place your plastic container with food into the fridge. “I’m sure I’ll live,” you brush off the fact that there was an absent person on your floor today.

“That’s the thing, though,” Mina points a finger at you, a lone eyebrow raised and a confident smirk on her face. “You won’t be thinking that again the moment you see him!”

You laugh, eyes crinkling as Mina joins your laughter. Eventually, she motions for the both of you to leave, and you nod in understanding. And with a weird sense of comfort and belonging, you realized that this job was going to be good.

Eventually, you had been working at Toshinori Company for two months.

Sixty-two days to be precise, and in all that time, you had only met Todoroki Shouto once. Even then, you had only seen the man walking through the office with a blank face, fingers in his pockets as two other men were walking in front of him, bickering lightly.

Had Mina not quite literally thrown herself across the table and gripped the collar of your shirt and twisted your head to look at him, you would have never caught a glimpse at the man with red and white hair. The three of them walked into the break room and came back out with their own lunches before leaving.

And that was it.

You had learned that the three of them (Todoroki Shouto, Midoriya Izuku, and Bakugou Katsuki) were within your department but worked very closely with the very high up members within the company. Many rumors pointed at one of the three taking over the company when the current CEO stepped down. They were, however, on the roster for your floor; they just never appeared except to pick up their lunches. Something they seemed to come to grab whenever you were a) way too fucking busy or b) not in the room.

You weren’t too bothered, though.

It wasn’t like you were trying to date one of them! You had only wanted to say hi.

Now, at ninety days, you had your first and probably most crucial evaluation.

Toshinori Yagi, the man who founded and currently ran this company, sat before you, looking at papers within a folder with tired but kind blue eyes. He nodded, impressed (hopefully), making small comments about the work you had been able to accomplish, a smile becoming a warming grin as he looked up.

“I’m impressed by the performance you’ve managed to attend to despite the short while you’ve been here, y/l/n-shojo,” Toshinori spoke, his fingers threading together and placing them onto the table. “I knew it was an excellent decision to put you in that position, and you exceeded my entire expectation!”

You flushed at that, lips twitching as you attempted to suppress that smile of yours.

“Thank you, Toshinori-san,” you practically wheeze as he waves off your thanks.

“No need to thank me, you’ve done all this work!” he laughs, tired eyes closing with a glorious supply of crow's feet blooming at the corner of his eyes. “Typically, at these evaluations, I ask a bunch of questions because there isn’t too much anyone can do in their first ninety days, I must admit.”

“Oh?”

“Mhm, but because I am curious, is there anything that has been happening as of late that you feel needs to be addressed with me?”

You felt yourself stiffen but knew your one and only complaint was not something to bring up in this setting.

“No, nothing,” you shrug, and Toshinori beams.

“I’m glad!”

Now, the problem.

The big, fat, stinky, hooligan, wanting to throttle someone problem.

For the past sixty of your ninety days, someone has been stealing your lunch.

Yes, you heard that correctly; someone was stealing your damn lunch! Every morning you woke up and prepared a delicious bento box for yourself. Some days you went as far as cutting shapes into your fruits and veggies just to make yourself grin. You weren’t the best chef in the world, but your bento boxes were pretty enough to make up for it, in your opinion. But the thing is, every day when you went into the communal fridge, you noticed two things.

One, your bento box was no longer in the same place, and two, the bento box was not yours at all.

The food was disastrously organized. Rice and lettuce spilling out in every partition in the box. The fruit and veggies often packed in this box had multiple cuts in them, implying that whoever did this was less than ideal with a knife. The meat was often oversalted, the sushi never sitting together, and everything was just… not it.

The first time you had sighed and eaten it, grumbling about how your precious lunch was stolen. But you had quickly figured out that it was inedible, and Mina, Uraraka, and Yaoyorozu thank god, offered to share their meals.

Seeing that you were distressed about how someone stole your egg and octopus sausages one day, Mina declared that they would watch the break room for whoever was stealing your light blue bento box. The first day you staked out, you had done it with Mina. But ten minutes into waiting around, you needed to pee. So you stood up and left in a hurry, leaving Mina alone.

But when you returned, Mina was gone, instead standing by Kirishima’s desk with a bright grin and a stance that screamed that she heard something she liked (gossip, possible in-office romance, a love confession?). Her jaw dropped as she noticed you and Kirishima had turned and waved in your direction as you raced into the break room to open the fridge, and sure enough, your bento was gone.

The next time, you staked out with Uraraka. Your arms were folded, your bladder cleared, and your lips twisted into a pout as you glared and stared down every single member who entered the room. Uraraka whispered to you her guesses about just who might be the thief, every other person rating an 8/10 likelihood of stealing your lunch.

But as the both of you sat there, your eyes narrowed at each passerby, no one came to collect your bento today.

“Deku-kun, no packed lunch today?” Uraraka asked as the green, curly-haired man you had only met once previously raced into the break room, grabbing the extra chopsticks meticulously hidden in the third bottom draw.

“Ah, Uraraka-san, y/l/n-san! Uh, no,” Midoriya greeted you both, who apparently responds to the nickname Deku, laughs off as he grabs a handful of napkins. “Todoroki-kun left all our lunches in his car by accident, and well… they spoiled… Kacchan’s pissed, so I ran off to get lunch for us today!”

Uraraka laughed, shaking her head, “Leave it to Todoroki-kun to act that way.”

Midoriya laughed, bright and clearly in agreement, “You should have seen his face when Kacchan asked for his lunch! I swear–”

“HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE TO GRAB FUCKING CHOPSTICKS, SHIT-KU! I’M FUCKING STARVING!” a voice roared from nowhere near the entrance of the break room. You did, however, jump a bit, eyes turning toward the break room entrance to see the blond man (Bakugou? Kacchan? You had no idea which was correct) near the entrance of the floor.

“It’s only been a minute, Kacchan, relax!” Midoriya laughs, completely unaffected by the startling shout as he waves goodbye to both you and Uraraka before leaving, joining Bakugou as the both of them seem to talk comfortably… well, maybe more like bickering.

“Why are they–”

“Childhood friends, apparently,” Uraraka sighed, but the smile on her face betrays her exasperation.

No one stole your bento that day.

Yaoyorozu took up the third stake out, the two of you idly chatting about tea. You honestly had no idea what to talk about with Yaomomo; she was often just so elegant and mature despite being your age. When you learned that her family was in charge of the Yaoyorozu Corp, it had been strangely easy to accept that.

It made sense.

So as the two of you stood at the kitchen sink, boiling water for tea Yaomomo swore would be the best matchup for your packed nigiri, the both of you missed the man who walked into the room, opened the fridge, and took your lunch.

“I… I am so sorry,” Yaomomo apologized, head bowed dangerously low as the both of you looked at the sloppily cut salmon in your not actual bento. “Please eat my food in reparation.”

“No, it’s okay,” you sigh, chewing on the somehow still warm salmon. “I deserved this loss.”

Luck was just on this man's side, it seemed. No matter what you did, you could never catch the man in action, and you were ready to give up.

But this was the last attempt you said to yourself as you returned to your office floor, the evaluation done, and the rest of your life coming to light. You could do this. No! You WOULD do this!

“Why don’t you just put your name on your bento box?” Bakugou asked, a lone eyebrow raised in what you could only assume was judgment and pity. The explosive man was standing in the doorway of the breakroom, watching as you and Mina were trying to climb up the counters of the breakroom to grab the camera you had previously planted. “Obviously, it doesn’t have your name on it.”

“Um,” you squeak, having been obviously caught by someone who intimidated you just the slightest bit. “That’s a good idea, thank you, Bakugou-san.”

“Tch, whatever, just clean up the damn counters, fucking nasty standing up on there. Some people prepare their food there.”

“We would never forget to do that!” you argue, desperate to not leave a bad impression on this man.

“I don’t know much about you, but I know raccoon eyes over there would.”

“MY NAME IS MINA!”

“Like I care.”

He left without so much as a wave but did seem to nod with his departure. You sighed as you hopped off the counter, Mina grabbing the cleaning supplies as she cursed out the long-gone man under her breath.

But you were looking at the fridge with your missing bento box.

“I can’t believe I never put my name on it.”

“It’s okay! Not even Yaomomo thought of it, so I say we are still smart!”

It was the next day, you were at your desk, anxious as hell as you did your work, trying not to focus on the fact that it was lunchtime and you were actively avoiding the break room. You wondered if they wouldn’t come and collect it today. If somehow they were an asshole and wouldn’t care if your name was on it! What would happen then? What if it was someone like Bakugou who was taking your lunch? What then? You were sure you would cave in slight fear and major intimidation if he said that your lunch was his now.

“Want a cutie while we wait, cutie?” Mina asked, waving the small tangerine in her fingers as she grins.

“Please,” you say in gratitude for the food because you were starving. “Thank you.”

Eventually, you lost track of what was happening, becoming all too invested in the conversation that Mina was telling you about that involved Kaminari, Kirishima, Bakugou, Midoriya, twenty-seven Red Bulls, fifteen Monsters, and five shots of sake. It seemed that the former two were quite big instigators when they wanted to be, and the latter two were unable to back away from challenges, especially when the other was involved.

“Y/l/n?” an unfamiliar voice called from behind you, and you turned partially in your chair as you looked behind you.

Standing behind you was a tall man with red and white hair, and from this distance, you noticed immediately that his eyes were a deep grey and brilliant blue.

Todoroki Shouto.

“T-Todoroki-san!” you greet him back, voice unable to keep from trembling as your nerves shot up. What was going on? You two had never interacted before! He was always gone, never present, and whenever he was in the office, it seemed that you weren’t there.

He cleared his throat and raised up two identical bento boxes.

“It seems… I have apparently been stealing your bento boxes,” he concludes, pressing the blue bento box with your name written on it into your hands.

Your jaw drops as your fingers curve around the cool plastic, eyes blinking up a storm as you try to abstain from laughing high pitched and ugly like.

“It was you?!”

A pink color blooms onto his cheeks as he averts his eye contact with you and nods slowly, “I am so sorry.”

“I just… how?!” you exclaim, exasperated, this man obviously being a bit dense if he had no idea he was taking your bento box!

“I prepare my bento boxes the night before, and I don’t really remember what I put into them….” Todoroki explains slowly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, his tongue clicking the roof of his tongue. “I just thought that my cooking was improving and that I was somehow doing an amazing job.”

The grin that overcomes your face is one of subtle, strange fondness and soft warmth. “I can tell you that you probably haven’t improved much,” you tease, opening your bento box to see your prepared meal for the day.

Cucumber salad, bulgogi beef, rice, and some fruit.

It was packed exactly how you remembered.

“I can’t believe I finally get to eat a meal I prepared,” you continue to tease, your eyes moving up to meet Todoroki, who was also looking at your bento previously. “Thank you for returning my meals and apologizing.”

“It was nothing,” Todoroki waved off with a single hand before opening up his own disastrously assembled bento box. It looked worse than usual today. Everything was just thrown in, it seemed. You saw egg and rice, but everything else in there was indescribable. He smiles at you before sighing at his bento. “This looks more like my stuff.”

You laugh, shaking your head, “You want to share my bento box? I’m sure you probably don’t want to return to that.”

“No, it’s okay,” Todoroki gently declined, although he looked at your bento with great want. He cleared his throat, gaze moving to lock on yours, and you swore his cheeks were still pink but no longer from embarrassment. “I just wanted to come and apologize for stealing your lunch for so long and to thank you for the meals; they were all delicious. Especially the soba you had made.”

“It’s all good; it’s in the past now,” you say gently, somehow finding yourself falling for a man you’ve barely just begun to talk with. The both of you stare at each other, and your skin feels warm. You chuckle, gaze averting for a moment before returning as you tease him. “Although, if you steal from me again, I’m not so sure if I’ll be so lenient.”

“It won’t happen again, promise,” Todoroki smiles, and you feel your spine melt. “But I would love to make it up to you somehow. I can make you dinner one night or something?”

You laugh, head shaking, “No, absolutely not; I don’t trust your cooking skills just yet. But you can definitely take me out to dinner.”

“Yeah, I can definitely do that,” Todoroki agrees, and the both of you fall silent as the shy stares continue. “Does, um… is Friday at seven okay with you?”

“That works,” you say, and Todoroki smiles.

“Good, I’ll uh, see you then?”

“See you,” you agree with a sweet smile before turning around, your fingers raised in a small wave.

You turn to see Mina, Uraraka, and Yaomomo staring at you, eyes comically wide and so very intrigued.

“Oh… my… GOD!” Mina shrieked as Todoroki walks away, and you shriek as she jumps across the table and shakes you, screaming about office romances and meet-cutes being entirely too underrated. “PROMISE ME I’LL BE INVITED TO THE WEDDING!!!!”

“MINA!”

It would take about three years of dating, several months of teaching Shouto how to cook, which resulted in a few bellyaches. Still, eventually yes, Mina would be invited to your wedding.

#todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #mha

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nat-20s · 3 years

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what’s poppin everyone please have this fun lil writing warmup/short story inspired by me thinking “Dancing in the Moonlight” was definitely 100% about werewolves

~*~

“So, this your first transformation?”

The counselor? Leader? Tour guide? Asked this with a perfectly jovial tone, as if the typical social mores surrounding, ugh, lycanthropy, didn’t apply to her. They didn’t know what exact title to call her, and her name tag just said “Luna”, which, reflecting on it, either was a joke on her part or a reflection of her parents’ sense of humor.

Picking at the scabs from last month, they cringed and replied, “No. Uh. Second.”

Luna lets out a low whistle. “Oof. That sucks. Guessing you got bitten rather than inherited the ol’ wolfman gene?”

“That’s...kind of personal?”

Unlocking the front door of the log cabin that served as King Harvest’s Headquarters, Luna shrugs and says, “Shit, sorry. Forgot the whole weird stigma around your source of the once monthly nightmare, as if it fuckin matters. Also, I know, I know, ass out of you and me. Hey, you got any dietary restrictions? Gluten, peanut allergies, the like?”

Voice flat, they tell her, “I’m vegetarian,” and waits for the obvious response.

As they wander through the cabin towards the kitchen, Luna flipping on the light switches, generic club music starts to filter in. Instead of the obvious response, Luna asks, “You like veggie burgers? Or maybe pasta? I’d offer salad, but that’s really not gonna cut it for tonight.”

“I ate before I came.”

With a snort, she tells them, “Oh yeah? Did you have about 4000 calories?”

“No? Why would I have?”

Sweeping out her arm, she gestures at the food laying out on the counter and tells them, “Then eat up! 4000 is really a minimum for the night if you don’t want to feel like someone physically beat out all of your energy in the morning. 6000 is more the target area, but we got, hmm, about 15 minutes before things get uncomfortable, and half an hour max before things get dire.”

They glance down to the food, and, admittedly, the broccoli alfredo does look pretty appealing. Still, they have to ask, “Is this a cult?”

Luna lets out a bark of a laugh that has nothing to do with her (maybe) being a werewolf. “Okay, first of all, what kind of cult is like ‘fuck yeah, we’re a cult’? Secondly, despite the first thing, I can say that we’re not a cult. I know how “King Harvest: Center for Movement Therapy” sounds, both clinical and vague enough to be suspicious as hell, but I didn’t come up with the title, blame my long deceased dad for that one. Plus, ‘King Harvest: Bitchin’ Wolf Dance House’ probably wouldn’t look good on the grant applications.”

“Grants?”

“Oh yeah. This bad boy’s been publicly funded since its opening in 1972. Hence no membership fees.”

“Is that why animal control is giving out your business card? Are they one of your sponsors?”

“Nah, that’s just Jack. Me ‘n’ him go way back, hell, to his park ranger days. I mean, yeah, I think he’ll campaign for us, but mostly I think he just hates capturing a wolf in the night only to have a naked, trembling human in the morning, and he knows that our program significantly reduces the odds of that happening, at least in this neck of the woods.”

They let out a hum, then glance back down to the food. As appealing as it down look, they’re still about..30% convinced this is an elaborate organ harvesting operation. Or sketchy sex thing.

Apparently sensing their hesitation, Luna says, “You got a favorite chip?”

“Salt and vinegar.”

Grabbing a sealed family sized bag from the overhead cabinets, Luna tosses it to them. “If you come back next full moon, either eat enough in advance or have a real meal here. That being said, excuse the turn of phrase, you should wolf that down. It’s sure as hell better than nothing.”

They catch it, and the bag opens with a puff of air that speaks to a reassuring lack of tampering. As they toss a chip into their mouth, Luna grabs a water bottle from the fridge and places it down next to them. “So? Any questions for me? We’ve still got about ten minutes before we have to go out there.”

Rolling their eyes, they tell her, “No. None at all.”

“Great! Soon as you’re done eating we’ll get you started.”

“I was being sarcastic.”

“Yeah, no shit, smart-ass. Seriously, what are your, we haven’t got much time.”

“I don’t know? The whole..thing? I mean, how is it supposed to..work? Like? At all?”

“You ever see Amok Time?”

“Is that relevant?”

“It’s a yes or no question babe.”

“And if I say no?”

“Then the explanation is going to be a lot more technical and take a lot longer, ultimately to likely make less sense.”

“...I’ve seen it.”

“Great! So, Pon Farr is basically this chemical blood imbalance that results in fuck or die disorder, yeah? But then Spock neither fucks nor dies, and eventually the vulcans get their shit together and find out that an intense fight can serve the same function, and the blood fever chills out. Lycanthropy operates on a similar enough basis for comparison. You’re compelled to act out on energetically heavy base instincts, returning to the ways of the wolf or whatever. Traditionally, that’s done through running and hunting, which has, historically, been a crapshoot at best. Theoretically, sex can also get the job done, but I’m sure you can imagine how that gets extremely dicey extremely quickly. Either restraints or isolation has been implemented for a while, but, c’mon, they’re bandaid solutions, and they’re far from foolproof. Luckily for us all, my grandmother decided to connect back with her ancestors, and there was a handful of stories having huge festivals to deal with ‘moon violence’. She tried it out, and, yeah, dancing works.”

“That sounds…”

They don’t know how that sounds. Made up, mostly.

“Like a bunch of hippie bullshit? Yeah, it kind of is, Grandma Josephine was a huge hippie, but it’s hippie bullshit that works. In fact, let’s go see the others, it almost always makes things clearer.”

Figuring that whatever they’re about to see can’t be worse than their transformation last month. They head through the sliding glass door out the back, the thump of the music suddenly loud enough to be felt in their chest. The sight that awaits them makes them drop their chips and let out a gasp. Barely able to speak, they exhale out, “None of them...they’re not wolves. How..how??”

Indeed, the roughly forty people jumping to the pulse of whatever they’re listening to (some to the in house DJ, some, apparently, to what’s playing over the large headphones they have adorned), resemble the image of a wolfman much more accurately. They bare claws, fangs, elongated snouts, upright ears, and serious amounts of hair, but they’re on two legs, and moving like humans. Some of them are even singing along to the lyrics, which really shouldn’t be possible.

Luna grins, making it obvious that she’s used to this level of shell shocks. “Ultimately, you do have to give into some damn rigorous instincts. But dancing is a human instinct, not a canine one, so you end up, well, humanoid. Pretty nifty, huh?”

“And they all..they all keep their minds? I didn’t...they don’t blackout?”

“Not since we banned alcohol in the 90s! Here, watch this.”

Luna nods her head at the DJ, and the DJ, obligingly, turns down the music for a moment. The members of the crowd not listening to their own music pause, then look towards the door. She cries out, “Hey gang! HOW WE ALL DOIN’ TONIGHT?”, and gets a mix between a howl and “WOO!” cried back. The DJ then turns the music back up, and the general movement of the crowd resumes.

They should be more skeptical. They want to be more skeptical, they were just minutes before, but it’s hard to disagree with something right in front of you. “This will work for me? I just..have to dance?”

“Well, it’s not guaranteed. Few things are. But we have yet to have someone turn violent on us. If you start to fell yourself slipping from consciousness, though, I do ask that you start heading further into the woods, as to not hurt other guest. If you find yourself just getting tired, there’s beds inside, and a fair amount of pillows around the edge of the quote unquote dance floor, if you end up in more of a nesting mood. Also, I recommend taking off your shoes before you start.”

“What? Why?”

Luna gives a pointed glance at the dancers’ feet, which, ah. They’re about twice as large as normal and at least twice as sharp. The converse on their feet would be no match. “Ah.”

“Ready?”

They shove off their shoes and place the remainder of their chips aside. “As I’ll ever be.”

Good thing, too, as they’re starting to feel an uncomfortable pressure in their chest that was the prelude to disaster last month.

Luna strides to the center of the dance floor, which is really a plush lawn surrounded by forest. The crowd naturally moves around her, and she yells out, “Aiyana! Play my song!”

Aiyana gives a nod, and the opening notes of “Dancing in the Moonlight” start to sound out. “Seriously?”

Luna shrugs, grinning like a fool, and says, “It’s a classic!”

“It’s cliché at best.”

Luna shrugs, and then begins dancing. She’s hardly elegant, but she is dazzlingly joyful in her uncoordinated movements. As the song reaches the first chorus, she gives a twirl, and in the split second it takes, she’s transformed. They blink in shock, not knowing you could transform that seamlessly, that quickly, that painlessly. Luna in half wolf form is just as expressive as the human Luna, and she gives a nod over her shoulder as if to say Come on.

Feeling somewhat foolish, they start to bop their head to the tune. Luna lets out a huff and grabs their hands, spinning them around and forcing them to get moving. At first, it’s them indulging Luna, but as they let themselves get lost in rhythm, they feel a stretching sensation in their face and limbs. It’s not unpleasant, more like when you wake up and work out the tension in your spine. They open their eyes and look down at their hands, now covered in fur in and made for slashing. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t hurt, and they’re still themselves, and they had no idea that full moons could be like this, maybe for the rest of their lives.

They turn their head to the night sky, and their body can’t help but continue to dance. Despite all their fear, all their dread, “movement therapy” worked, and they can admit, at least to themselves, that they feel warm and bright.

#my writing #nats journey into writing short stories based on 70s songs continues lmao

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tuanyiems · 4 years

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To Tango

Yugyeom x Fem Reader Genre: fluff, a little angst, smut Words: 12k [Masterlist in blog description] Plot: Sequel to Take Two (Arranged Marriage AU) Part of the Marriage Life AU series. You and Yugyeom have decided to take things slow now that you are starting over on the right foot. This proves to be more difficult when your insecurities about your virginity grow larger and Yugyeom’s dance partners get prettier and sexier with each routine. Warning: gyeom and reader need to work on their communication lulz, loss of virginity, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, a brief moment of unintentional cockwarming lol

“Oh, and the sex, Y/N!” Anna let out a dreamy sigh, plopping her head against the couch cushion dramatically, her third glass of wine swirling dangerously in her hand. “I thought we were great in bed before, but engagement sex! Y/N, it’s absolutely mind-blowing!”

You giggle in response to your best friend, lips on the edge of your own wine glass as you nursed your first cup.

Anna reaches out her left hand, eyes crinkling at the sparkling ring on her finger. “I can’t wait to get married and have newlywed sex! Is it even better, Y/N?”

You cough in surprise, mouthful of wine spilling back into your glass.

“Oh dear, are you okay?” Anna reaches over, patting you on the back. She glances over cautiously. “You know, I heard most couples need time to learn each other’s bodies. Not all men can be like Jungkook. It gets better, don’t worry!”

“No!” You looked up in surprise, cheeks heating up. “It’s not that it’s bad. Yugyeom isn’t bad…or well, I don’t…he’s probably not.”

“Wait!” She shakes her head in disbelief, slamming down her wine glass on the coffee table. “I thought you and Yugyeom were getting along! It’s been a whole year, Y/N!”

“W-we are,” you stutter, looking away.

“But you’re still a virgin?” Anna asks slowly. You gulp down the rest of your glass, squeezing your eyes shut in embarrassment as you reluctantly nod.

“Aww, it’s okay…sex isn’t even that…good.”

You roll your eyes, giggling at the obvious lie. “Stop Anna, you looked like you were in actual pain just saying that.”

She grinned, flashing a row of plum teeth. “Sex is amazing, Y/N, I’m sorry.”

You shrug your shoulders, pouring more wine into your glasses. “I’m sure I’ll find out eventually. Yugyeom and I are just taking things slow.”

“Of course, there’s no rush!” Anna smiles reassuringly.

“Right, no rush.” You agree, nodding your head with conviction. Deep down though, you’re worried. After the two of you finally cleared the air of your misunderstandings last year, you both agreed to take things slow, get to know each other as friends first. Of course, this was more for Yugyeom. You had already been head over heels for him two years prior to him ever knowing your name. As time passed, your feelings for Yugyeom only grew stronger, but you weren’t sure you could say the same for him.

It took months for him to come to terms with you being his wife, you didn’t want to scare him away by asking for anything more. But a whole year has passed since then and the two of you hang out more like roommates than a married couple.

The first time you went on a real date, it got so awkward that Yugyeom literally called up Bambam to break the silence. The last time you tried to hold Yugyeom’s hand he flinched like you were going to chop his fingers off or something. Ever since then, you’ve given up, relishing instead on your casual nights in watching k-dramas and weekly grocery store runs. Those count as dates, right?

“Everyone has their own pace Y/N,” Anna adds, as if she could hear your worried thoughts. “There’s no order to when you’re supposed to get married or have sex. Don’t worry about it.”

You look at her with a pout. “Even if we’ve never kissed?”

“YOU’VE NEVER KISSED?!”

You laugh, half at her reaction and half in agony as you nod.

“What the hell is wrong with Yugyeom?” Anna yelled out indignantly.

You smile sheepishly, brushing your fingers through your hair in defeat. “Maybe he doesn’t want to kiss me. We hang out like bros. I think I’ve been friendzoned.”

“Nonsense! There’s something wrong with that boy if he doesn’t want to kiss you. Even I want to kiss you sometimes! That’s how hot you are!”

You laugh, collapsing into the couch cushions at your friend’s bug-eyed expression. “Anyways, it’s not that big of a problem. In his defense, he’s only just gotten to know me. I’m not as outgoing as you Anna, my charms are a little harder to see.”

“No way, Yugyeom’s just blind. That, or he’s a coward! You need to grab that boy by the collar and show him exactly what he’s missing out on. Just grab him and plant a wet one on him!”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I think that’s called assault, Anna. We’ll get there in due time. No rush.”

“No rush about what?” Yugyeom interrupts, entering through the front door. He had just come back from the dance studio. You avert your eyes. Even after a long day of dancing in track pants and a plain white tee, hair stuffed into a black cap, Yugyeom still looks irresistible.

“Are you two drinking again?” He asks after no answer, approaching the two of you on the couch.

You smile sheepishly, twirling the red wine in your glass.

“Yes we are! Have to get rid of our frustrations somehow!” Anna barks back, pouring more wine into both of your glasses.

“This is my second glass,” You tell him quietly when he glances from Anna back to you, questioningly.

Yugyeom raises his brow skeptically, leaning over the couch to get a closer look. You gulp, eyes trailing the tip of his nose and the curve of his cupid’s bow. He’s so close; you could smell the lingering scent of the outside air mixed with his faded cologne.

“Your second glass?” he asks, eyes trained on yours like he could read your thoughts if he stares hard enough. You pray that isn’t true.

You nod quietly.

“Then why are your cheeks so pink? I think you’re already drunk!” He declares, standing up straight. Anna laughs, looking at you with a knowing smile.

“Did you eat dinner yet?” You change the subject quickly.

He smiles down at you before stepping away. “Yeah, I’m gonna go shower and then head to bed. Don’t keep her up too late, Anna!”

“That’s your job, Mr. Hubby,” Anna mumbles under her breath, snickering when your eyes widen, and you turn back to check if he heard. Yugyeom is already down the hallway though.

You pout, sinking into your seat. “Don’t say it!”

“You’ve got the hots for your husband!” Anna sings with excitement, nudging you teasingly.

You can only groan into the couch cushions because you know she’s absolutely right.

Of course, by now everyone knows you’ve had the hots for your husband ever since you laid eyes on him as a freshman in college. You were like the Cinderella of arranged marriages on campus. You agreed with it yourself. It wasn’t every day that parents matched their daughters up with their longtime crushes.

But that was a sweet and innocent time in your life, when you’d have daydreams of cooking dinner with him and he’d help tie your apron from behind. Maybe even tuck a stray hair behind your ear. Now your daydreams are far more…mature.

So, when you send Anna on her way and turn around to see Yugyeom stepping out of the shower, striped pajama pants on, and only striped pajama pants on, you are a bit breathless, to say the least.

“Jungkook picked Anna up?” he asks nonchalantly, water droplets dripping off his wet hair and falling down his chest.

You beg your buzzed brain not to follow the wet trail. Your mouth waters anyways.

“Mhm,” you manage out after a pause.

He chuckles, his hands coming to cup your cheeks. “Are you sure you only had two glasses? You seem out of it.”

“I’m fine,” you laugh nervously, shuffling out of his grasp. “Anyways, aren’t you tired? You should head to bed.”

“I am,” he smiles. “You too? Do you have a long day tomorrow?”

“I’m gonna be in the kitchen all day. I have to practice a couple recipes.”

“I’ll help!” he grins, shoulders squeezing together happily.

You scrunch your nose, landing a soft punch on his bicep. “I sense ulterior motives. I’ll take it though!”

He laughs, patting your head good naturedly. “Then it’s settled. Just wake me up when you start.”

You smile, watching as Yugyeom turns towards his bedroom, fresh muscle relief patches stamped across his back. He had been in the studio nonstop all week. Ever since changing his major, he’s been overworking himself to make up lost time. And now he’s spending his day off to help you.

You are grateful that he no longer gives you the cold shoulders. In fact, you have a gut feeling he’s been trying to make up for his past behavior by doing favors for you. You keep telling him that everything’s been forgiven, but the boy doesn’t listen.

He’s truly been nothing but sweet.

So, it should be okay that you two sleep in different beds at night. Lots of arranged couples do. You should just be happy you got to marry such a kind man. It’s okay that he doesn’t love you, you’re lucky nonetheless. Eventually, you two will become best friends.

Best friends last longer than lovers, you’ve been told.

But when you tuck yourself into bed that night, you can’t help but feel a little bit colder than usual.

“So, how can I help?” Yugyeom asks, hands on his hips as he sports your far too small, far too pink apron.

You giggle at the sight, sliding the cutting board towards him. “Can you dice the veggies, please?”

“Yes Chef!” he salutes you playfully.

You chuckle, bringing out the other ingredients for your recipe. The sleepyhead woke up at noon and insisted on helping you before even brushing his teeth. Of course, you ushered him into the bathroom soon enough, but it was harder to kick him out of the kitchen.

You glance at the back of his hair, strands curling up in opposite directions like wild flowers. You’d think the image of Yugyeom looking the very opposite of his appearance in the dance studio would damage your infatuation with him, but instead you found his clumsiness endearing.

There are a lot of cool bad boys out there. You’re glad Yugyeom is one of the good ones. Sometimes you fear he’s too good. Like maybe he’s being nice because he feels guilty still or maybe even sorry. You bite your lip. You would hate it if he were only acting this nice because he felt sorry for you.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” Yugyeom yells, breaking you out of your thoughts. “You’re gonna cut yourself like that!”

You look down at your chopping board, fingers dangerously close to the knife. “Oh.”

“And you tried to kick me out of the kitchen. I should be the one nagging you!” he chides, taking the knife away from you. “I’ll finish up the chopping, you can start cooking.”

You nod, feeling your cheeks heat.

“How are your classes going?” he asks, popping a slice of carrot into his mouth.

“Pretty good. I just can’t wait to graduate.”

Yugyeom lets out a soft chuckle. “Same.”

“Extra year was worth it though, wasn’t it?” You grin, filling a measuring cup with water.

He answers with a wink. It makes your stomach flip.

“I never said thanks,” he starts, going back to chopping vegetables. You look at him curiously, waiting for him to continue. “For convincing me to change my major. And supporting me this whole time. I don’t think I would be here without you.”

You shake your head, busying your hands as your cheeks flush once more. “It was all you. I wouldn’t invest in something I didn’t believe in. You had it in you the whole time.”

“Ah, stop it,” he bumps shoulders with yours gently.

You couldn’t help the growing smile on your face as memories from last year floods you.

Yugyeom looked like a nervous puppy in front of his father. You were sure if he had a tail it would be tucked between his legs right now.

You never thought of the Kim family as intimidating. Although the first time you met your in-laws they were angry whispering to each other with Yugyeom over the arranged marriage, they have always been nothing but kind to you. And when you and Yugyeom started getting along, they became even more jovial, showering you with household gifts and random text messages of affection.

However, Yugyeom’s respect for his parents was immeasurable and in front of his father, he became a little boy.

So here he was, face as pale as snow, about to break the news to his father.

You reached out to him, taking hold of his hand quietly. He flinched at the touch before offering you a nervous smile back. You squeezed his clammy hands in yours.

It was the first time you truly felt like Yugyeom’s wife. The two of you were in this together and you were going to support your husband’s happiness even if it meant going against his parents.

As it turned out, Yugyeom’s parents were more than understanding. Disappointed, yes, but after you gave your reassurance that you supported his decision, they were all on board with him pursuing dance.

You chuckled to yourself, remembering how Yugyeom’s frightened face had melted back into his usual boyish excitement. There was something very pure in the way he expressed himself. It was part of the charm that drew you in, in the first place.

You glance his way, catching him bouncing his shoulders up and down to a beat only he could hear. Sometimes you wonder what goes on in that brain of his.

Yugyeom’s knife stops midair. He turns to you abruptly with arched brows. You blink back nervously. But instead of saying anything, he breaks into a big smile before returning to the vegetables, his body grooving back and forth in a little jig. You chuckle softly, shaking your head. Whatever’s in that brain of his, you don’t have to worry about it.

“Wow, this is delicious!” Yugyeom exclaims, taking another big bite of your dish. You smile, placing your hands on your hips with satisfaction. “You deserve an A++!”

“You say that about all my food,”

“I mean it this time! It’s so good.”

“Oh, so you didn’t mean it the other times?” You give a playful pout, pushing the plate closer to your side. “I’m eating this alone!”

“Aww, hey! You know what I meant,” he whines, scooting closer to get another bite.

You laugh, taking the dish into your arms as you swat his hands away. He only pushes closer, wrapping his arms around you.

“Just one more bite!” he whines, squeezing you against his chest.

“All mine!” You grin, grabbing another spoonful. You swirl the spoon around teasingly before aiming for your own mouth, but before you could bite down, Yugyeom squeezes you closer, sticking his head cheek-to-cheek against yours and successfully steals the bite.

You gasp, face flushing at his close proximity and then watch as the plate slips from your nervous hand. Almost as if in slow motion, you see the contents of your dish spill onto Yugyeom’s grey sweatpants. Your eyes double in size the liquid sinks into the fabric of his pants and the rest falls to the floor in thunderous claps.

You blink, frozen, until you take in a sudden breath and collapse to your knees.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” You immediately apologize, wiping at his pants hastily.

“Oh, hey hey hey!” Yugyeom grabs at your hands, flustered. “I-I can wipe myself. Don’t worry about it.”

You look at the red flush across Yugyeom’s face, reaching towards his ears and all the way down his neck. Your palms go clammy in his as you realize your precarious position. You glance at the wet spot near his crotch and then back at his wavering pupils.

“I’m so sorry!” You apologize again, for different reasons this time, as you fumble back to your feet.

He only shakes his head vigorously, unable to meet your eyes as he lets go of your hands.

“It’s my fault,” he says, rushing to the kitchen counters to grab a kitchen towel. “I was playing around too much.”

“Yeah, you were,” you agree, taking the towel from him with a sympathetic smile. He looks at you with a pout. “I’ll clean up the mess, you should go change.”

He lets out a sigh before consenting, heading towards his room with his head low. In the privacy of his bedroom, Yugyeom lets out a deep exhale, his heart thrumming in his chest. He hopes you hadn’t noticed.

He looks down, pulling his sweatpants off. Please go down, but instead thoughts of you return to his mind. If he is being honest, it isn’t the first time he’s imagined you in that kind of position, but to have it actually happen—you, on your knees, right below him—and the way you looked up at him with your big, shiny eyes. All you had to do was lick your lips and he would’ve came in his pants.

“Fuck,” he whispers, looking back down. “Go down, go down, go down.”

You sit in Jungkook’s apartment, watching beside Anna as the two boys bicker about the latest trendy dance on TikTok. You laugh, watching as your husband grows red in the face from laughing so hard. He didn’t even drink tonight.

“What are you grinning about, huh?” Anna teases, refilling your glass with more sangria.

You point at Jungkook just as he begins rapping nonsense to the cellphone that is leaning dangerously against a half empty water bottle, off the edge of their coffee table.

“That’s the guy you’re about to marry,” you deadpan. “And that’s the man I’m married to.”

You look solemnly at Yugyeom who is now flailing tissues around as he hypes Jungkook up in the background.

Anna chuckles, clinking her glass against yours. “A bunch a fools, we are.”

You gulp down the fresh glass before breaking out into a grimace. Anna definitely put more brandy into the second pitcher of sangria. You look back at your friend with a frown.

She only laughs in response. “What? It’s not like you’re driving yourself home, that’s what the husband is for!”

“True!” You laugh, drinking more.

Yugyeom scowls, giving Anna a reprimanding click with his tongue. “You’re such a bad influence, Anna!”

She feigns offense, turning to him with her mouth wide open. “Excuse me? Who’s the one that brought you guys together, hmm?”

“Our parents,” Yugyeom retorts, a pleased grin on his face. You chuckle, earning yourself a glare from your friend.

“But I was the one that brought Y/N to the dance studio and stopped you two from divorcing each other,” Anna pouts, squeezing your arm for backup. You only giggled more, sipping on your glass of sangria.

“Speaking of the dance studio,” Jungkook starts, breaking the little spat between Anna and Yugyeom. “You’re working on that new routine with Lisa, right?”

You let out a sigh that only Anna notices. She gives your arm another squeeze, well aware of your concerns.

For the past couple of weeks, you had been complaining to Anna about Lisa. In all honesty, there was nothing real to complain about. Lisa was one of the sweetest girls you have ever met, and her dancing was some of the best you had ever seen. But that was exactly what was wrong. Lisa wasn’t just perfect, she also went perfectly with Yugyeom. The two shared an unrivaled chemistry on the dance floor and that did nothing to curb your own insecurities over your relationship.

It doesn’t help that Yugyeom is spending hours of his day to perfect his new dance routine with her.

But how could you even tell Yugyeom this? You were the one that pushed him to pursue dancing!

You stretch out your legs on the couch, wiggling your toes with a frown on your face. You really shot yourself in the foot this time around.

“Bro, don’t remind me,” Yugyeom sighs, much to your own surprise. You perk up, turning your attention to him and ignoring the snort from Anna. “I’m going to kill Bambam.”

“Why, what happened?” Jungkook asks.

“Yeah, what happened?” you insist, a little too eagerly.

Yugyeom turns to you with a frown. “Bambam took Lisa ice skating and she sprained her ankle.”

“Oh no,” you mutter, pressing the wine glass back to your lips to hide the smile spreading across your face.

You feel Anna’s elbow dig into your side.

“Aww, go Bambam though,” Anna cheers. “Hasn’t he been in love with her for forever?”

Yugyeom rolls his eyes, walking over to plop next to you on the couch. His arm naturally reaches overhead, leaning on the cushion just above your head. You swallow, overly aware of his body next to yours.

“It wasn’t even a date, Anna,” he sighs, shaking his head in disbelief. He looks at you then before adding, “That’s why I’ve been at the studio longer than usual. Learning the routine with a new partner is so stressful.”

“Who’s your new partner?” Jungkook asks, squeezing himself next to Anna.

“She’s an underclassman. I don’t know if you know her. Does Chungha ring a bell?”

You watch Jungkook’s expression remain unimpressed as he shrugs. “Nope.”

Pleased with his response, you relax your shoulders and unintentionally lean into Yugyeom. If it weren’t for the alcohol and your slow reflexes, you would’ve sat back up, but Yugyeom presses back into you before you can move. When you feel his hand slide around you, you tip the rest of your glass into your mouth.

“You guys wanna come watch us practice?” Yugyeom offers, seemingly unaware of your wildly beating heart.

Jungkook and Anna agrees quickly, leaving you with no choice but to watch another woman dance with your husband. The only thing that was making you feel better though is the fact that she isn’t Lisa and of course, the additional helping of sangria from your best friend.

When it is finally time for you and Yugyeom to head home, you are completely drunk. You have no idea how he was able to get you to and from the car but when you are finally sober enough to open your eyes without feeling like the world is spinning, you find yourself sprawled on your living room couch.

“One day I’m gonna get Jungkook shitfaced and toss him to Anna. See how much she likes it,” he grumbles under his breath as he approaches you. “Oh, you’re awake.”

You giggle, still drunk enough to ignore your usual nerves. “They’d probably just have drunk sex, Yugy.”

Yugyeom blushes, sitting next to you on the couch. “Let’s wipe your makeup off Y/N,” he replies, ignoring your comment.

You turn to him with your eyes closed, laughing when the cool towelette touches your skin. He chuckles against you.

“Stop laughing.”

“It tickles!”

“Just a little bit more,”

You sigh in relief, opening your eyes again to see Yugyeom tossing the dirty wipes into the trashcan.

“Come on, let’s go brush our teeth,” he beckons.

Your lips jut out instinctively as you cross your arms defiantly. “Do it for me!”

Yugyeom lets out a sigh but a smile quickly breaks onto his face anyways. He always complained to Anna about getting you drunk, but the truth is that he could never get truly mad. How could he when your drunken self becomes a cute little monster?

You are annoyingly adorable.

Even during the early months of your marriage when Yugyeom was adamant on hating you, he could never get over how cute you became when you were drunk. While he found your normal self already quite endearing, it was a different pleasure to see your guard slip down.

Grabbing your toothbrush and spreading a pinch of toothpaste over the bristles, he smiles as he walks back over to you. Your eyes open again, feeling him approach. You flash him a bright smile, showing off your wine-stained teeth.

Chuckling in defeat, he pushes your toothbrush against your smile and begins brushing. You watch him with lazy eyes, smile still adorn on your lips. It makes his skin flush under your gaze. Maybe you are still very drunk, but time feels like it stops.

It’s not often that Yugyeom gets to see you with your guard down. You are always a little shy and always put together. Whether it is helping him talk to his own parents or waking up early to make him lunch, you are always the one helping him and rarely is it ever the other way around.

It’s why times like these, Yugyeom takes his time memorizing your features.

On normal days, Yugyeom already thinks you are perfect.

On nights like tonight, he thinks you are perfectly imperfect.

And that makes you all the more beautiful.

All too soon, it is time to put you to bed. He is surprised you’re even still awake. It’s way past midnight, which is way past your usual 10PM bedtime.

“It’s time to sleep now, Y/N. Can you walk or should I carry you?”

You glance at him, fiddling with your thumbs. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

Yugyeom chokes on his own spit. “Y-you don’t want to sleep in your own bed?”

You shake your head with a pout. “I wanna stay with you.”

He lets out a breath before taking a seat next to you on the couch. It shouldn’t be a surprise that your drunk self is being clingy, but Yugyeom can’t help his thoughts from wandering to the other day when you spilled food all over his pants.

You pat his thigh, leaning closer. He gulps, feeling nervous suddenly.

“Yugy, what’s your ideal type?”

The question catches him off guard. It’s not until you squeeze his thigh again that he remembers to answer.

“I-um...”

He glances down at your wide eyes. The anticipation in your gaze is evident.

“I like someone who makes me want to know more about her,” he finally answers.

His answer is almost sobering enough. You feel your heart dropping.

“What type of wife do you want then?”

Yugyeom wants to laugh at your sudden interrogation but you look so serious. He looks away, pretending to think deeply about your question. The truth is though, he can barely think with you so close to him. The only thing he can think to respond with is you. Of course it’s you. It could only be you.

Before Yugyeom could even accept the idea of marriage, he had already fallen for his wife. Against his will and against his pride, you had snuck into his heart.

When he looks back at you, you feel a flutter in your chest. You wonder if your buzz has gotten to your head. Hope rises in your heart the longer he stares.

“I want a wife who doesn’t like wine so much,” he lets out a small laugh when you immediately frown. If only he could kiss the pout on your lips.

Yugyeom sits up, thinking you’ve finished but you’re quick to keep him seated. With the last bits of alcohol giving you courage, you throw your leg across his lap and straddle him, palms flat against his chest.

“I want a real answer, Yugy,” you pout, too involved in your own questions to see the way Yugyeom’s entire face has gone red. “What’s something I can do that you find really charming?”

He looks at you like a deer caught in headlights. The longer it takes for him to answer, the more you begin to question whether you’ve crossed a line. But Yugyeom is just trying to form a coherent sentence in his mind, anything to keep you from pressing further into him and realizing that you’ve given him a semi.

When he doesn’t answer, you bite at your lip, crestfallen.

You know you should have seen this coming, but it still hurts. He couldn’t even think of a lie to tell?

The next question leaves you in a whisper, “Why aren’t you attracted to me?”

Yugyeom’s eyes grow big with alarm. The sadness on your face is so apparent and it makes his stomach ache with guilt. Why would you ever think this? He is literally hard right now because of you!

“I am!” He shouts back immediately.

You look back at him, but your eyes say you don’t believe him.

“I am, I really am! Why would you even ask?”

“Then,” you sink into him, shoulders slouching. “Why won’t you kiss me?”

Yugyeom looks at you, then your lips, and feels the heat rise to his cheeks. He wants to kiss you right now. He has never wanted to kiss you more than now, but you’re drunk. What if this is just the alcohol talking?

Before he can say anything though, your arms are wrapping around his neck and pushing him against you. Your lips are soft on his and you taste minty from the toothpaste.

You feel a shiver in your spine when he starts to kiss back. Soft at first, and then his arms are squeezing around your waist and you’re running your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer until it feels impossible to breathe.

It doesn’t matter. You decide kissing Yugyeom takes priority over breathing.

You moan against him when he slides his tongue into your mouth. When you rut against him, you can feel his hardness through his jeans. It sends a thrill through your body. You rub yourself harder against him, savoring the way he muffles a groan against your lips.

But when you slip your hands underneath his shirt, feeling his hot skin, Yugyeom pushes you away.

“Wait,” he mutters, catching his breath. “Y/N, we can’t.”

“What are talking about? Who’s going to stop us?” You chuckle, trying to sneak your hands back onto him, but Yugyeom is quick to grab your wrist.

He inwardly curses himself, cringing at the tightness in his pants, but he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he took advantage of you while you were drunk. He is not going to share your first time together when you aren’t fully sober. It is wrong no matter how much you insist on it.

With a sigh, he lifts you off of him and stands up.

“We can’t, Y/N. Come on, let’s go to sleep.”

You feel a wave of heat rise to your face as your eyes fill with tears. You stare at Yugyeom’s feet, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes.

“Come on,” he beckons, reaching for your hand.

Pulling away, you get up on your own. Without a word, you walk into your bedroom and slam the door shut.

And as you lay in bed, hot tears spill out endlessly.

You stand at the entrance of the dance studio, a sick feeling in your stomach. Yugyeom left early this morning so you were never able to talk about what happened last night.

“Are you going to open the door or what?” Anna looks at you sternly. “What happened between you two? Why are you acting so weird?”

“Yeah, did you lose your virginity or something?” Jungkook jokes.

“Anna!” You yell out, appalled.

She looks back at you with wide eyes, putting her hands in the air. “It wasn’t me, I swear!”

“Yeah, Yugyeom told me months ago,” Jungkook chuckles, a pleased smile on his face.

“Okay, I’m going home.”

Before you could march away and find a cliff to jump off of, Anna and Jungkook are pulling you by the arms and into the studio.

“Hey, you guys made it!” Yugyeom greets you cheerfully. He glances over to you and a pink hue dusts his cheeks. He rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly, unsure of what to do until a girl approaches him. You blink, breath caught in your throat when you see how beautiful she is. “Oh um, this is my new dance partner, Chungha!”

You bite at your lip, noticing far too quickly how Yugyeom’s mood changes at the sight of her. But could you blame him? In just a basic pair of black leggings and sports bra, you could see how toned her body was. Her big, bright eyes blink back at you, and you could see the fluttering of her long lashes. She looks flawless.

And then she smiles.

To think, you had been relieved Lisa was no longer his dance partner. No wonder he isn’t attracted to you. You wouldn’t be either if you were surrounded by women like Lisa and Chungha all day.

“It’s nice to meet you all!” she greets cheerfully. “I can’t wait to get your feedback.”

“Same, Yugyeom said you’re a great dancer,” Jungkook adds.

She smilsd shyly, sharing a look with Yugyeom. “That means a lot. I don’t know if I can meet those expectations though.”

“Nonsense,” Yugyeom rolls his eyes, pushing her shoulder playfully. “Stop pretending to be humble.”

As the two laugh in their own world, you finger at the end of your t-shirt uncomfortably. They have only been practicing the dance together not too long ago but they already look so close.

“Oh!” Yugyeom looks back at you, almost like an afterthought. “This is my wife by the way!”

“Oh!” Chungha exclaims, eyes wide as if she were seeing you for the first time. “It’s so great to finally meet you! When Yugyeom said he was married I was so surprised, but you are so cute!”

You force out a smile, accepting the compliment—though, you wonder if it really was. It sure didn’t feel like one.

“Well, we won’t hold you up anymore!” Anna interrupts, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “We’ll go make ourselves comfy while you two get ready.”

“Hey, it’s our sister-in-laws!” Bambam and Taehyung welcome you from their seat by the mirrors.

“Soon,” Anna grins coyly, sharing a look with Jungkook.

Ignoring the two lovebirds, Taehyung grabs your arm, ushering you to take a seat between him and Bambam.

“I haven’t seen you in forever,” he pouts before flashing his iconic square smile. You answer with a weak one of your own.

“How long have you two been here?”

“Since the morning. We had to practice our routines too,” Taehyung answers.

“Yeah, and those two have been at it since we got here. I think knowing there’d be a live audience today made her nervous,” Bambam adds, referring to Chungha.

“It’s just us though,”

“Still,” Taehyung shrugs his shoulders. “This is her first performance since starting uni.”

You glance at the two who are currently crouched over a tablet and reviewing a video of their practice. She is giggling over something Yugyeom had said and is slapping his shoulder playfully.

You frown. “Doesn’t look nervous to me.”

Taehyung smirks, bending his head to meet your eyes. “Is someone jealous?”

You frown even more, lip jutting out in a pout.

“Aw, poor baby, it’s okay Y/N,” Taehyung chuckle, patting your head. “She’s harmless.”

“Tae!”

You both look over to see Yugyeom staring from across the room. His eyes meet yours briefly before he averts his eyes to Taehyung.

“Can you come over for a second? We need a second opinion,” he says.

“We do?” Chungha asks softly.

You sigh, hugging your knees.

Bambam chuckles beside you. “It’s hard work liking someone, isn’t it?”

You turn your head, giving him an empathetic smile. “You of all people should know.”

You watch Bambam’s shoulders slump, slightly regretting your comment when you see the look on his face. But Bambam is quick to recover.

“Yugyeom cares for you more than you think.”

You have a hard time believing that, memories of last night’s embarrassment resurfacing again. Instead, you cross your arms and turn your whole body away from the three across from you towards Bambam.

“She called me cute,” you pout.

“Isn’t that a good thing?”

You sigh. “Not when it’s coming from someone who’s drop dead gorgeous. Cute sounds like an insult.”

Bambam shakes his head in disbelief but doesn’t try to change your mind.

“Sounds like insecurity to me.”

You feel a flush across your cheeks. “Yeah well! Maybe I wouldn’t be if…”

“If?”

You bite at your lip. If Yugyeom had continued kissing you last night? If you went all the way with him? If you hadn’t spent an entire year essentially being friendzoned by your own husband?

You sigh. “I don’t know.”

Bambam gives you a pat on the back. “I’m sure whatever it is, it’s just another misunderstanding. Just talk it out.”

You nod, not wanting to talk about your relationship problems anymore.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Taehyung announces, jumping to the center of the room like a TV host. “May I introduce to you, for the first time ever! Yugyeom and Chungha!”

You clap along weakly as everyone cheers. But the sick feeling in your gut only grows once the performance starts.

The dance is a passionate one. Their bodies are constantly tangled together, Yugyeom chasing after Chungha. You dig your nails into the flesh of your palm as Yugyeom presses himself into Chungha’s back side.

But more than the touching, what hurts the most is the way he looks at her. He looks like he wants her. You knew what you were signing yourself up for when you pushed Yugyeom to pursue dancing, but when did he become such a good actor too?

He’s never looked at you like that before.

It takes a room full of clapping to get you out of your thoughts. You wish you hadn’t though. Chungha is beaming up at Yugyeom and he is looking back like she is the only girl in the room.

“How were you able to watch Lisa do this dance with Yugyeom?” you mutter to Bambam, looking away from the two on the dance floor.

“Trust,” he answers easily. “Besides, Yugyeom’s too dorky for Lisa. She would never fall for him.”

“Hey,” you scold lightly.

“You can either be mad at him or defend him, Y/N. You can’t choose both!”

You roll your eyes, heat rising to your cheeks. “I’m not mad at him, he didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then why does Yugyeom keep looking at you like he’s sorry?”

You only sigh, too afraid to say out loud the answer you hold in your heart.

That maybe, he is only sorry because he can’t love you back.

You sit on the couch of your living room, absentmindedly spooning your ice cream that is now soup. A couple days have passed and you and Yugyeom are back on good terms. At least on the surface. Silently, the both of you seem to have agreed to pretend what happened the other night on this couch had never happened.

You decided to stop thinking about the way Yugyeom looked at Chungha or how she was so much better than you. Again, you do what you are good at, using your blind optimism to mask the hurt you are feeling inside.

“I’m back!” Yugyeom calls out as he steps through the entrance. He spots the back of your head from the living room and glances at the TV only to find that you are staring at a black screen.

“Hey,” he calls out again more softly, approaching you on the couch.

“Oh, Yugyeom!” You startle, before offering him a smile. “Back from practice?”

“Mhm,” he returns a hesitant smile.

“Aren’t you early? What time is it?” You glance over to the clock on the wall only to find that it is already 9PM. “Oh wow, look at the time! Did you have dinner yet?”

Yugyeom shakes his head, observing how your eyes never quite focus, glancing at his torso briefly before darting back to your bowl of melted ice cream and then the clock on the wall.

“I left some dinner for you in the kitchen, you just have to heat it up.” You place your bowl on the coffee table. “Want me to get it for you?”

He places a hand on your thigh, stopping you from leaving your seat. “I got it.”

He rises to his feet before pausing. Yugyeom looks at you, his eyebrows arching with concern. He stares for a moment. Ever since you guys came back from the dance studio together, you had been quiet. Everything you did and said felt a little too robotic. A little cold even, like you were keeping him at a distance. And then he thought about your lips. The way they felt against his that night—cool from the aftertaste of toothpaste, but hot against his tongue.

“Yugyeom?”

He swallows. “N-Nothing.”

You look at him for a moment longer before forcing out a smile. “Let me just heat up your dinner and then I’ll head to bed!”

Yugyeom watches as you hastily leave him for the kitchen. It is obvious that you are still bothered and this time around, Yugyeom is sure he knows why. But he doesn’t even know how to start talking about it. He can’t even think about the other night without feeling like a flustered mess.

And by the way you are smiling at him, it feels like you don’t want to talk about it either.

Were you embarrassed about it? Was he right and it was just the alcohol talking? Maybe you were regretting it now.

“It’ll only take another minute and you can take it off the stove,” you smile up at him, giving his arm a pat before you walk away.

“T-Thanks,” he mutters. “Good night.”

You smile weakly before closing the door.

Yugyeom sighs, staring at his dinner on the stove. Even when you aren’t feeling your best, you still take care of him. He wonders how he can make you happy.

His thoughts wander to Taehyung. What if it was him you had walked in on at the dance studio during your freshman year? Would you have fallen for Taehyung instead?

He had seen the way Tae looked at you the night of the party. It was the first night since the wedding that you had gotten all dolled up. He saw you as soon as you stepped through the door. He was sure everyone had their eyes on you.

Even with his own stubbornness back then, he couldn’t stand watching everyone eyeing you at the party. Although he had been determined to avoid you that night, it was the look Tae gave you that drew the line for him.

Since then, you and Tae have become close friends. It annoyed the hell out of him especially when Tae was blatantly flirting with you just to get on his nerves, but he couldn’t even complain. It was karma. He deserves it for the months of hell he put you through.

You may have liked him first, but Yugyeom wonders if you’d still like him for long. With the way things are going, it seems like you are going to realize how subpar of a husband he is and leave him for someone better.

The very thought makes Yugyeom want to hurl.

He shuts off the stove with a sigh. Why is he so bad at communicating with you?

Despite being tired from practice, that night, Yugyeom couldn’t sleep. His thoughts keep going back to you and the sad smile on your face tonight. He did that.

And now here he was, hiding in his bed like a coward. Sitting up, Yugyeom turns on his lights with a sigh. This was not okay. He was not going to repeat the same mistake again. He had to talk to you.

With a renewed purpose, Yugyeom marches over to your room, but when he stops at your door, he freezes. What is he doing? You’re probably asleep by now. He glances at the clock down the hall. It’s almost midnight.

Maybe he should wait until the morning instead.

Just as he’s about to turn on his heels though, your door opens. You both jump in surprise.

“You’re awake!”

“Yugyeom?” You rub at the sleep in your eyes. “What are you doing out here?”

He shuffles awkwardly. “Oh, I uh…”

You stiffen, anxiety creeping up your spine as you watch him fidget in front of your doorway. For you, there can only be one reason for Yugyeom to be coming to you in the middle of the night.

He must have come to his senses.

Yugyeom takes in a sharp breath, steeling himself. “Can we talk?”

Your stomach sinks. You want to tell him no.

Instead, you quietly step aside and let him through. He sits on the edge of your bed nervously. You stare at him from the doorway still.

“I-” his voice trails off before it can fully start. He bites at his lip, pulling at the chapped skin until it is wet and raw. “I…”

When no other words come, you let out a tired sigh. “Gyeom,”

He looks up at you and you can see the worry digging creases into his forehead. You wish you could push him out of your room. You aren’t ready for this conversation to happen. But Yugyeom looks at you so helplessly, you don’t have the strength to deny him.

So, with a pang in your heart, you speak. “You never answered my question the other night. Not seriously anyways.”

He looks at you curiously and you approach him. “Will you answer me now?”

“I-sure.”

You take a seat next to him, tucking your hands beneath your thighs. “What kind of girl do you actually like?”

Yugyeom turns his head your way, looking lost. “But I did answer you. Someone who makes me want to get to know her.”

You squeeze your shoulders together, staring down at the floor. “So, someone with stories…someone with experience?”

Yugyeom swallows, feeling himself fall deeper into a hole. “N-no! Not necessarily…”

“What about your exes? What were they like?” you glance at him, wanting to watch his face but scared of the honesty you’ll see.

Yugyeom’s face flushes red. “W-what? Where is this coming from, Y/N?”

Your face falls before you drop your head once more. “Nothing, it’s stupid. I just thought…maybe if I changed? Do you think we could ever be more than friends?”

Yugyeom chuckles softly. It feels unnatural in the tense atmosphere though. You wonder if he’s laughing at you. You wonder if the very idea is that absurd to him.

“Y/N, you’re my wife.”

“On paper,” you mutter. You shift on the bed, wringing your hands together. “But you don’t even want to hang out with me much, let alone date.”

“That! That’s because I’m shy!” he blurts. He tugs on your hand to look his way, but you’re too ashamed to look him in the face.

You wonder if you’re being selfish by putting him on the spot like this.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” you resign, pulling your hand out of his grasp. “I know this arrangement was never your choice. And well, you can’t control who you’re attracted to.”

“I’m not lying though. I really like you, Y/N, I’m just…I’m just really shy.”

You frown at his insistence. “You aren’t shy around Chungha or Lisa.”

Yugyeom looks at you surprised. “Chungha and Lisa are just friends! I don’t think of them like that!”

“That’s impossible! Chungha and Lisa are both so pretty and charming and sexy! They’re the whole package!” You glare at him angrily.

“Yeah, maybe for Bambam!”

“I bet you’ve talked to Chungha more times than you’ve ever talked to me,” you grumble, crossing your arms.

“Yeah, well, I could say the same for Taehyung,” Yugyeom blurts, mirroring your posture.

You raise your brows in surprise. “Tae?”

“Don’t play dumb, he was obviously flirting with you at the party.”

“What party?” you turn to him confused. “Wait, are you talking about the party where I first met him a year ago?”

“Yeah, and I bet if you met him any earlier, you would’ve liked him instead!”

You frown, sitting cross legged on the bed so you could face him fully now. “I’ve liked you for two years before you even knew I existed. Don’t try to change the subject when you were flirting with Chungha right in front of me just a few days ago!”

“That was not flirting!”

“Not saying it’s a bad thing! You can flirt with whoever you want because you’re allowed to like whoever you want. Clearly, it’s not me!”

Yugyeom guffaws in exasperation, cupping his forehead with one hand. “Goddammit, but it is you. It’s been you this whole time.”

“I’m a big girl, Gyeom, you can give me the hard truth.”

He straightens, glaring back at you. “You want the truth?”

“Yeah, I do.”

Yugyeom scoots closer to you. “Remember when you and Anna had that bachelorette party?”

You pause, frown deepening. “It wasn’t really a bachelorette party, it was just the two of us drinking wine.”

“Nope, you insisted it was a bachelorette party,” he argues, chest puffing out. “I know this because when you got wasted over a bottle of wine, it was me you called to come get you. It was me who carried you back to your apartment and tucked you into bed, but not before you tried to strip down to your underwear while announcing your virginity to the entire complex.”

You gape at him, horrified. “I did what?”

“And I have liked you ever since,” a small smile stretches across his face. “I found out the perfect, goody two-shoes girl was masquerading as a terrible lap dancer by night and ever since then, I’ve wanted to get to know even more sides of you.”

You close your eyes, pressing a thumb to your temple. “Wait, back up, Gyeom, I gave you a lap dance?”

“Yeah, and a terrible one at that,” he laughs.

You falter, anger dissipating quickly. “I don’t remember this.”

“That was only the first time, you know,” he looks at you with a small, teasing smile.

You cringe. “How come you never told me?”

He shrugs. “It happened during the time I was trying really hard not to like you. Anyways, I didn’t think it was something you’d be proud to learn.”

“After seeing all of that,” your voice comes out small, like you want to make a joke, but your tone doesn’t quite match, “wouldn’t you rather someone like Chungha?”

Yugyeom sighs loudly. “What’s with you and Chungha?”

“You two have chemistry,” you admit, lips pouting.

“Because we’re friends,” he explains.

“Then what are we?” You look up at him nervously. He meets you with an equally anxious gaze.

Without answering you, he puts his hands out towards you, palms facing up. When you tilt your head curiously, he takes your hand in his.

“You make me nervous,” he mutters, and you can feel the clamminess of his hot palms against yours. Your brows raise in surprise and you watch as a flush of pink rises to his cheeks. “You think I’m flirting with Chungha, but actually I’ve been trying to flirt with you this whole time. I guess I’m just terrible at it.”

You swallow, not sure what to say to this confession. From the way he looks at you, you know he’s being sincere, which only makes you more confused.

“And I’m terrible at it because,” Yugyeom pauses, face tomato red as he tries to compose himself. He looks away and you grip his hand tighter. “I think you have this idea about me, like I’m cool or something. You’re always saying I inspired you to pursue your dreams, but I think it’s the other way around. And it’s…it’s just a lot of pressure.”

“I-I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to make you feel this way.”

“I know,” Yugyeom looks at you softly, “because you’re you, and you see the good in everything—even me. But if I’m being honest, that cool guy you had a crush on at the dance studio? I’m not sure I’m him. I’m clumsy and childish and always cause accidents when I’m around you. The closer we get, the more I worry you’ll figure this out and regret liking me.”

You thread your fingers through his and pull his hands to your chest, shaking your head adamantly. “That will never happen!”

He chuckles, but the laughter doesn’t meet his eyes. “You can’t promise that.”

“Yes, I can,” you tell him stubbornly. “I moment I said, ‘I do’ I promised just that.”

“Can you say that after my next confession?” he scoffs.

Your brows furrow, but you don’t let go of his hands.

“Do you really want to know who my first love was?” he asks quietly.

You nod, heartbeat thrumming in your ear.

“It was dance,” he sighs, looking down. “It’s always been dance.”

You look at him confused, trying to process this information. “You mean…”

“I’m a virgin, too,” he mumbles, the tips of his ears glowing hot red. When you don’t say anything, he looks up with a small frown. “Still think I’m that cool guy?”

You can’t help the smile that stretches across your face. Without thinking, you spring from the bed and pounce onto him. Yugyeom catches you by the waist easily, his eyes wide with shock at your sudden actions, but he holds you tight in his arms anyways. You shake in his arms, giggles erupting from you and tickling the crook of his neck.

“Why would that ever make you uncool?” you laugh, fingers combing through the back of his hair.

Yugyeom relaxes into your touch, resting his chin on your shoulder. “But, what if I’m not good at it?”

You pull away to look at him. He chews on his lips timidly.

��Well, it’s not like I have anything to compare you to,” you chuckle, rubbing gently at the nape of his neck. “We can take our time, learn together.”

Finally, Yugyeom smiles, relief rushing through him. “It’s not that I don’t want to, just so you know. I just want to make sure you have a good first experience too. What if I hurt you?”

“It hurt more thinking you didn’t like me.”

He sighs softly, pressing his forehead to yours. You can feel the ghost of his breath on your lips. “Trust me, I like you a lot more than you realize.”

“Oh, I’m starting to realize,” you roll your hips tentatively against him and his lashes flutter in surprise as you feel the outline of his semi hard on through his pajama pants. His grip on your waist tightens.

“W-what are you doing?”

You can feel him shiver against you and probably for the first time in this relationship, your chest inflates with confidence.

“Starting lesson one,” you whisper into his ear as you press your core harder against him. The feeling of his hardness blooms excitement throughout your skin. Never has anyone been this close to you in this way. The thought used to scare you, but right now, you’ve never been more thrilled.

“Are you sure?” the words barely make it out of his throat as you press a kiss to his neck. You can feel his breath hitch at the slight graze of your lips, and it urges you on. And despite Yugyeom’s cautious words, his arms pull you closer and he tilts his head, giving you better access.

“The surest I’ve ever been,” you reassure him before sucking on the skin of his jugular. His pulse beats against your lips and you’re happy to know you aren’t the only one whose heart is racing.

“You’re…How’re you so good at this?” Yugyeom mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut in agonized pleasure as you roll your hips against him once more.

“I’ve thought about this a lot,” comes your breathy confession. When he doesn’t say anything, you glance at him. “Is that strange?”

He breaks out into smile, shaking his head. “I’m glad it wasn’t just me.”

You smile, “Really?”

Yugyeom nods, lips chasing yours. “You don’t know how many boners I’ve had to hide from you.”

His hot breath fans at your lips before he is pulling your bottom lip between his teeth. You can’t help the moan that muffles against his mouth as his tongue explores your mouth. When he pulls away, you are gasping to catch your breath.

Contrary to the kiss, Yugyeom looks at you with the softest gaze and wipes at the wetness of your lips with a gentle thumb. He lingers at your bottom lip for a moment longer.

Yugyeom sucks in a breath, eyes dilating when you take his thumb into your mouth. You meet his stare with hooded lids as you suck his entire thumb into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the digit. When you release him with a pop, you can feel him twitch underneath you.

There is a hunger in your core that you’ve never felt before. Your entire body aches for Yugyeom in its most primal form. You want him. The thrumming in your chest only further confirms this.

You clutch at his plain tee, heat rising to your cheeks, “Can I taste you?”

Yugyeom groans, throwing his head back. You can’t help salivating at the sight of his Adam’s apple bobbing. When Yugyeom looks back at you he almost looks pained.

“I don’t think I’ll last, Y/N,” he mutters, ears reddening.

His confession makes your heart inflate and you press a kiss to his jawline.

“It’s okay, I won’t time you. I don’t know if I’ll be any good anyways,” you smile to lift the mood, but Yugyeom shakes his head.

“No, let me make you feel good first,” He presses a kiss over your smile. “I want to take care of you this time.”

You swallow, heart thrumming in your ear. “Well, what if I don’t last?”

He chuckles, kissing down your throat. You shudder, skin prickling at his breath.

“Oh, I’ll make sure you don’t,” he mumbles, sucking at the sensitive skin. You groan, threading your fingers through the back of his hair. “I’m no quitter, Y/N, and we’ve got all night.”

You shiver, stomach twisting with excitement. Not knowing what else to say, you can only nod when he sinks his thumbs into the waistband of your shorts.

But Yugyeom doesn’t move further. Instead, he looks at you again, eyes serious. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? We can stop if it gets too much.”

And although your cheeks heat up at just the graze of his fingers at your hips, you nod without hesitation. “I want you, Gyeom. I’m ready.”

He sucks in a quiet breath. “Lay down for me?”

His request is a whisper, barely audible, but you scramble to the pillows. Yugyeom follows right behind and when you sink your head into the pillows, he meets you, right above, lips finding yours once more. As his tongue explores your mouth, his thighs press between yours, spreading your legs apart. You can’t help being hyperaware of the dampness of your underwear as he does this.

But the thought quickly leaves your mind when he places a hesitant palm to your chest. To your embarrassment, your nipples are already hard with arousal when his fingers graze against them. He groans against your mouth, fingers rubbing rough circles around the peaked buds.

You find yourself already breathless at the sensation, the sensitive skin sending tingles straight to your core. You moan when he slips his hand underneath your shirt, the pleasure growing ten folds with his warm hands on your bare skin.

“God, you’re so soft,” Yugyeom groans, squeezing your breasts in his palms. “Can I take this off?”

You nod quickly, hands already coming to the ends of your shirt to help him slip it off. Yugyeom leans back on his heels, eyes eating you up while you laid topless in front of him, chest heaving from just his small touches.

“Gyeom,” you mutter, feeling self-conscious when he doesn’t move.

There’s a glint in his eyes as his fingers meet your waistband again. You suck in a breath, nodding silently for him to continue. He licks at his lips, pulling the flimsy fabric of your shorts off of you.

You cringe at the sight of your yellow cotton underwear, the pink heart patterns looking suddenly very childish with Yugyeom’s eyes on them now.

“I-I have better underwear-” you rush to cover yourself but Yugyeom moves your hand.

His palms squeeze your thighs, and he looks at you with a reassuring smile. “It’s cute. You’re cute, and beautiful and charming and sexy. The whole package.”

You blush, hearing your words said back to you.

“Plus,” he grins, hands sliding up your thighs and you shiver. “These ones are soaked, just for me.”

Your breath catches in your throat when he runs a finger up the wet cotton. He chuckles darkly at the sound of your whimper when he circles around your clit. It’s just a whisper of a touch and yet you find yourself careening.

Your heart feels like the wings of a hummingbird, flapping against your chest. Never have you laid yourself out, so bare, for someone. It’s scary, being so vulnerable, and yet you find yourself wanting to jump into the darkness of the unknown.

The way Yugyeom looks at you is dark and heavy, like he is trying to swallow you whole, hungry to take in every piece of you. And maybe with anyone else this would frighten you, but it’s Yugyeom, and so you are excited. Excited and eager to give all of yourself to him.

“Can I?” he asks, pulling at the edge of your underwear.

“Please,” you consent, lifting your hips.

Yugyeom groans helplessly at your bare sight, dripping wet just for his eyes to see. He lifts at his t-shirt, skin already hot. You swallow, eyes traveling down his bare torso, to the tattoo stretching across his rib cage and then the growing bulge his thin pajama pants does very little to hide. You clench around nothing, just imagining what’s beneath.

Yugyeom catches the movement and curses. You don’t even know what you do to him.

Your eyes shudder close when you feel his fingers back on you, spreading your slick in circles around your clit.

“Does that feel okay?”

You answer with a whimper, arching into his touch.

He bites at his bottom lip, watching you squirm beneath him. You are so sensitive and so eager. Nothing he could have ever imagined could measure up to this view. He could probably cum to this sight alone. The strain of his pants warns him of the very possibility.

“More,” you barely manage to croak out between a moan but Yugyeom hears you and without hesitation, he dives into your heat, eager for a taste.

Your eyes flutter open at the new feeling, hooded eyes staring down at his head between your thighs. You moan, embarrassment heating your cheeks, but your fingers thread through his hair and push him deeper.

The sting of his scalp only drives him on, lapping at you hungrily. When he moans into your folds, you find yourself vibrating with him. His tongue feels so soft and delicious against you and when he sucks on your clit you tremble at the sensation shooting straight to your core.

Sweat glazes your forehead and you strain to keep your eyes focused on Yugyeom. You can’t even see his face, but you can’t pull your gaze away. The top of his head bobs eagerly and from behind, you can see him thrusting into your sheets.

You whimper, feeling your abdomen tighten when he rolls his hips extra rough.

“Gyeom,” you squeeze around his hair strands.

He looks up at you, eyes glazed over with lust, tongue still swirling around you at an agonizing pace. Squeezing your thigh, he presses a finger to your entrance. He presses, barely entering but you find yourself clenching already.

“Gyeom,” you whine, head falling into the pillow in frustration.

You feel him chuckle against you. A soft kiss to your clit. And then he slips a finger into you slowly. You’re so wet, he slips right in easily. You close your eyes, savoring the unfamiliar feeling. Unfamiliar, but not unwanted. Your body hums for more.

He dips his finger in and out, enjoying the way your body arches, trying to chase after his finger each time he pulls out.

“More?” he asks, teasing two fingers at your entrance. You nod eagerly, squirming at his touch.

Yugyeom dips two fingers into you, dick twitching at the feeling of your tight walls squeezing around his digits. When he curls his fingers, you let out a loud moan, eyes fluttering shut. He reads your body easily, mouth back on your clit as he repeats the motion of his fingers over and over.

Your body tightens, heating up quickly. There’s a burn in your abdomen, a fire that flickers every time he sucks around your clit and curls his fingers against your flesh. You clench your fists around your sheets, feeling your heart pound faster against your chest.

Your whole body trembles, toes curling and abdomen squeezing until it feels like your soul lifts from your body and everything goes white.

When you come to, chest heaving like you just ran a marathon, Yugyeom is back on his knees, looking at you in awe. His lips are red and chin, wet with your arousal.

“Was that okay?” he asks, a boyish smile on his lips.

You chuckle, eyes rolling to the ceiling. “That was amazing.”

“Good.” You feel him lie on the bed beside you, arm coming around your waist.

You turn on your side, meeting his gaze. “Now it’s my turn.”

His eyes widen and the confidence from before quickly fades behind pink flustered cheeks.

“I-Are you sure? You don’t have to.”

Your hands travel down and land on the tent in his pants, straining to be released. You lift a brow at him, but he only gets more red.

“I want to,” you tell him. “I want to feel you inside me. I want this.”

He gulps and you feel him twitch against your palm. “I-I might not last long.”

You kiss his worries away. “That’s alright, you said we had all night, didn’t you?”

You pull at his waistband and he sighs at the release of his cock. You sit up and Yugyeom kicks the rest of his clothes off before helping you straddle him.

You look at him with wide eyes, before looking back at his cock. His tip is red and shiny with precum. Your eyes follow the vein that travels down the length of his cock. You can’t even help it, your mouth waters.

Your stomach flips nervously. Yugyeom seems to sense your worries when his hand rests over yours.

“You really don’t have to. We can wait.”

“I do!” you say quickly. “I just-,” you blink, swallowing thickly. “Will you fit?”

Yugyeom groans, hands squeezing around your thighs roughly. “Are you trying to make me cum before we even start?”

“I-no,” you feel your cheeks grow hot. “It’s a legitimate question!”

He chuckles, until your hand comes around his shaft. Yugyeom sighs at your touch, your soft, small hands feel like heaven compared to his own. Though you don’t intend to tease him, your hand rubs him agonizingly slow as you feel the smoothness of his skin and the ridges of his veins pulsing in your palm. You watch in awe as you squeeze up and a small clear bead of precum buds at his slit.

Yugyeom’s breath hitches when you dip your head down and lick at his slit. Your brows shoot up at the taste. He’s salty, but it’s Yugyeom and you find that you don’t mind it. Instead, your mouth waters for more.

“Fuck,” Yugyeom curses, stopping you when you try to dip your tongue down again. You look at him in surprise, but he’s quick to reassure you. “Next time, baby, I really want to last.”

You nod, flushing at the pet name.

You rise onto your knees, hands coming back down his cock to align him to your entrance. You shiver, feeling his tip between your folds. Yugyeom looks just as nervous, the heat of your entrance making his heart race.

It takes a few tries, his cock teasing between your folds, before he enters. Barely there, but you feel the stretch. He’s much bigger than his fingers, but the stretch isn’t the pain you always imagined. Unfamiliar, maybe a little uncomfortable, but nothing scary at all.

This realization fills you with a newfound courage and you sink down onto his cock with an extended sigh.

“Fuck,” Yugyeom whispers a strained curse, a devil’s grip on your hips as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and slips down his face as his jaw clenches. You’re so fucking tight and warm around him. When your cunt clenches, he groans, balls tightening. “Fuck, don’t do that.”

You still, falling onto his chest. You can hear his heart thrumming wildly in his chest.

“Sorry,” he heaves, hugging you tightly against him. “Just, I need a minute. You feel like fucking heaven, baby.”

You smile, pressing a kiss to his chest. When his cock twitches inside you, you shiver. To be honest, you’re no better either. You feel so full with him inside you. This feeling is so new, but so right. You can feel your walls pulsing around him. Or maybe it’s his cock pulsing against your walls. Probably both.

You close your eyes, savoring the feeling before Yugyeom finally let’s out a soft breath. And then, he is lifting his hips. You moan, the movement pushing him deeper into you. You place your palms on his chest, sitting up.

He looks at you with hazy eyes as you lift off his cock before sliding back down his length. Yugyeom’s moan is load and uninhibited. The sound sends another wave of arousal straight to your core.

“Oh god,” he moans, hips lifting to meet yours every time. “Fuck!”

You strain to keep your pace, his arms helping you out as you gave into the wave of pleasure each time his thick cock slide into you. Already, your whole body was buzzing with pleasure.

“Fuck, fuck,” Yugyeom’s desperate moan meets your ears and then you feel his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you to his chest. He groans, teeth digging into your shoulder.

And then you feel it. Hot cum shooting into the deepest part of you, flooding you with warmth. The sting of Yugyeom’s teeth sinking in your skin, the sound of his heaving breath and heart beat against your ear, the pulse of his cock thrusting into you as he rode out his high—you feel like one body against his and the feeling makes your eyes wet.

You smile, pressing a kiss to his jawline as he softened inside of you.

He let out a satisfied sigh as his cock slipped out and you felt his cum slide out of you. “I’m sorry,” he finally says. “I told you I wouldn’t last long.”

You shush him with a kiss.

“I couldn’t have asked for anything better,” you smile.

His hand on your waist tightens. “You’re really the best thing to ever happen to me.”

You giggle, tension breaking. “I could get used to this Yugyeom.”

He smiles, hand coming to your cheek. “I mean it.”

He looks at you quietly. It’s a fleeting moment, but the feeling lingers. You feel warmth blooming in your chest.

You kiss him again, “I know, Gyeom. This time, I really know now.”

#got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 reactions #kim yugyeom #arranged marriage au #marriage au #marriage life series #fluff #angst #smut #fanfic

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lady-z-writes · 3 years

Text

Plaything (Heisenberg x fem!reader)

Chapter 4 (of 5)

Summary: Reader works for BSAA and is scoping out the village until you get captured by none other than Heisenberg who doesn’t take well to trespassers. Once he learns of your hatred for your job, he wants the information you have and he doesn’t have to try hard to get it. You find yourself drinking, fireside, with him and can’t help but let him touch you. Angie said he’d needed a plaything and, well, you’re it.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Smut with (some) plot, chapter 4 below the cut:

You can remember the feel of a scratchy washcloth against your skin. It’s warm and the movement against your nipples is gentle. You want nothing more than to sleep right now, but you open your eyes and note a very shirtless, very tentative Heisenberg cleaning you up.

A moan leaves you as you try to shift over, cover your tits, go back to sleep – but he grips your wrist gently and easily turns you back over.

He chuckles. “Wore you out, huh?” his cocky smirk makes you smile back. “Just…let me do this then you can sleep.”

You nod, eyelids feeling heavy, and you let him take care of you.

When he’s done, you watch him turn toward his desk but your hand juts out to grab his wrist this time. He halts, slowly glances down at you.

“Stay,” you hum, shifting on his bed. “Please?”

Before long, you feel the bed dip from his weight beside you and you let yourself rest.

•••

It’s night by the time you wake again and he’s no longer in the bed with you, but you see the moonbeams through the curtains and stare up at the stars for a moment.

The breeze makes you cold and you reach for a nearby shirt of his. It’s white and shows your nipples through it, but the warmth is a comfort.

An empty room greets you when you look around. There are journals and books you’d never really paid attention to before. A part of you is tempted to flip through them, but you’re reminded of the behavior Heisenberg clearly wants you to exhibit.

Instead, you grab your boots and decide to shower off the events from the other night.

The water is scolding but perfect as you wash with his shampoo. It’s lonelier than last time, but your mind needs some clarity.

What you stumbled into…it’s laughable. If you’d been on any other team with any other lord, Heisenberg probably wouldn’t have saved you. You won’t let your mind wander to the others for too long – how their carcasses are probably tossed away somewhere and forgotten about right now. Heisenberg has his moments, sure, but you’re alive and it’s a kindness he didn’t need to do.

Your fingers are macerated so you shut off the faucet, reach for a towel. Sleep did you good, food would do you better. When your eyes travel to the doorway, you can’t help but scream.

A Soldat stands in the doorway.

Wrapping a towel around yourself, you press your back to the shower wall, breath coming in rapid bursts. The Soldat simply attempts to shove its way into the bathroom, but it doesn’t fit and the drill hits the wall instead.

There’s no other way out and you’re pretty sure the thing is going to drill through the wall. It manages quicker than you expect and you’re still in the shower stall, holding onto the towel for dear life as it strides toward you.

Its one drill gets stuck on the stall door, the other reaching you and digging into your arm. Another scream and you’re cowering down in the corner of the stall, pressing your hand against the bleeding wound.

In a blink, the Soldat is tossed against the other wall and Heisenberg steps into the shower. His eyes take in the blood.

“Can you stand?”

You’re in shock, but you nod quickly and you don’t stop nodding until he’s got you out of the room.

He sits you in his desk chair and grips your wrist, turning your arm over to see if the puncture wound went all the way through. You dare to look at it and see the gouge in your arm, blood oozing onto the towel.

“Next time,” he growls, pulling the towel down and exposing your breasts. “You get me before you shower.”

It hurts when he presses the towel to the wound, applying pressure to stop the bleeding. You grit your teeth, reminded of a recent mission you were wounded in. Pain is temporary, you remind yourself as he cleans off the wound.

He actually has gauze and it feels good once he’s wrapping the wound.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” you find yourself saying. “I’m sure you were busy.” You notice his eyes take in your nakedness. “Thank you…for everything.”

“This place isn’t safe for you, clearly. Don’t leave my sight again.”

You convince him you need food so he lets you get dressed. You’re afraid to enter where the Soldat is, but you grab the shirt and boots and run back to Heisenberg. He watches you dress in his white shirt and your knee-high boots.

“You are entirely too distracting,” he hums, staring at your nipples through the shirt.

In an instant, you’re shoved to the nearest wall, hands above your head, Heisenberg pressing a palm against your fists. He kisses you deeply, body flush against yours. His hand travels between you two and he plays with your clit. You not wearing panties has proven to be very distracting.

His fingers arched inside of you, mouth pressing kisses to your neck, you’re once again so pleasured. It feels like a wave consuming you – distracting you momentarily from your hunger.

“I’ve got to finish up a project,” he mutters against your neck. “What should I do with you?”

“You want to keep fucking me, you’ve gotta let a girl eat,” you quip.

Heisenberg blinks at you as he pulls away. “What a mouth on you…” he raises a brow. “Fine. It’ll keep you quiet while I work.”

He doesn’t have anything spectacular to eat but you manage to scrounge together something simple – some bread, veggies, more fruit. There’s some granola bars and you’re wondering where he got them but your curiosity melts away when he demands you get done and follow him. Snagging one, you scurry off behind him.

You’re deeper into the factory than you’ve ever been and it’s a bit overwhelming. Heisenberg drones on about some projects and gives you more information on the ins and outs of the Soldats. He claims he doesn’t expect you to work on any today, but you find it hard to believe. The man seems like he’s always plotting.

Halfway through the granola bar, he calls you over to help him but loud growling and snarling nearby alerts you both.

“Shit,” Heisenberg is suddenly irritated as he meanders to a window. His hand slams against the wall. “That oversized, psycho bitch.”

He’s spinning on his heels and approaching you quickly as you swallow your last mouthful of food. Eyes wide, you stare as he strides toward you and pulls your arm. As he’s dragging you down the hallway, you’re struggling to get out of his grip and repeating, “what’s wrong?”

“Apparently since I haven’t checked in recently, I get to be dropped in on by my sister.”

Your mouth goes dry at the thought and you stutter out a, “what do we do?”

•••

“You overgrown waste of space, get out.”

You can hear them yelling somewhere up above, but Karl had specific instructions to take the elevator two floors down, walk through the doors to the left, and take off down the hallway from there. He said wherever you’d go, he’d find you but as your eyes take in the maze down here, you worry that isn’t true.

Still, what choice do you have? It’s either this or be skewered by his false sister once she finds out you’re still alive. The thought chills you.

Deep in the maze now, you hear the movement of the elevator and their raised voices stirring about. Metal clangs, screaming, and crashing sounds above and as you hear the shifting of the elevator again, you break out in a full sprint.

Adrenaline coursing through you, it’s like an electric shock to your senses. The metal clanging almost seems louder and you wonder if Karl is doing that just to alert you where they are.

You’re good and lost by now, entering rooms that attach to other rooms; trying to find a hiding spot before you realize they’re moving again.

Her senses are sharp, apparently.

Approaching a room deep in the maze of things, you see a few lights on; wonder what he uses this for – but your wondering is cut short by the shadow of a figure standing in the nearby doorway.

An almost-scream leaves your throat but you cover your mouth with both hands in attempt to silence yourself.

The beast grunts, approaching slowly. Both arms are drills – the same version of the Soldat that attacked you earlier. It raises its drills in a readying attack.

You run back the way you came, back to the parts of the factory you know these things aren’t. Karl had mentioned before to stay near him if you were ever to venture out, but given the current unexpected guest, you’d had no other choice.

The creature charges after you, its grunting loud. Of course you look back at it – its grey skin – it’s like you still can’t believe what you’re seeing.

You manage to find your way back to a main hallway and take it all the way down. Glancing back, you think you’ve lost it…and then a loud clanging noise greets your ears.

It feels like everything is in slow motion when you turn. The oversized woman from the church stands just off the elevator, her long claws reflecting light. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears and as she charges at you, you see Heisenberg swing his hammer behind her.

With a flick of his wrist, he sends a bunch of metal scraps toward you with such power, you’re crashing against the nearest wall.

“I told you to stay out of it,” he’s yelling and it makes you hold your breath from on the ground.

“You kept her?” the woman screams. “I’ve known you to do some stupid things, but this?”

“Yack yack, go squawk to Miranda.”

“Do you know who they are?” she gasps. You notice Heisenberg is silent. “The others I brought to Castle Dimitrescu, they offered up knowledge: these people were meant to gather information on us,” she’s screaming at him. “And yet you keep this spy as a plaything? I knew you had intentions, idiot man-thing. You need to take care of this now.”

She clicks her tongue when she notices you pulling Heisenberg’s shirt down to cover yourself – feeling exposed.

“Oh, believe me, I will…” his voice is polished, mannerly. It stops you in your tracks. “You know how I don’t like anyone ruining my fun. This little slut has been sucking and fucking all night. I’m using her until I’m done and then I’ll string her body up for the Lycans.”

The tall woman lifts her chin with an inhale. You notice as she takes you in, Heisenberg is glancing down the hall you ran from, as if looking for his creation.

“Well, I…” the woman pauses. “I suppose I must honor Mother Miranda’s choices – though they may be poor at times.” A nod. She steps toward you, punctures the skin on your chest. “You disgusting harlot. I hope you rot.”

You cry out from the pain, try backing away, but are pinned to the wall suddenly by metal wrapping around your wrists.

“I’ll take it from here, dear sister,” Heisenberg sneers. “It’s my hour of need and…I’m sure you don’t want to be around when I take what I’m owed.”

The suggestive tone in his voice makes the woman sneer at him.

“Fine. Show me out.” She stands at full height and saunters over to the elevator. Just as you think you’re safe, she pauses, sniffs the air. “She’s not alone.”

“What?”

“There’s another.”

“What do you mean?” he’s spastic now.

“Did you bring another here?”

“No,” he quirks a brow at her. “Sure you aren’t losing it? Hat’s too big for your head – no time for big brain moments.”

She rolls her eyes and follows him to the elevator.

Heisenberg leaves you here, pinned up to the wall, crying and bleeding and praying to a higher power that thing doesn’t find its way back here or you’re dead.

And as the minutes tick by, you wonder just how honest he was being with his sister…was this all a ruse? His kindness just an extended roleplay to get what he wanted out of you before killing you?

The movement of the elevator startles you once again. A part of you is grateful for his return, meaning the monster may be kept at bay; yet you’re worried what his intentions are.

As he strides over to you against the wall, he exhales cigar smoke in your face.

“I like you strung up like that. My shirt, nipples hard, legs spread…” He kisses you then and you want to lean into it, but you’re frozen. He notices, pulls back. “Ah, I see the gears turning now…” he taps the cigar ashes off on your arm. “Not to worry, kitten. I’ll take care of you.”

The movement to your left makes your stomach drop. The monster from before lurches into view – loud and menacing.

“Should I let it repeat the scene from earlier? Your blood shed and my family won’t be forced to check on me anymore. No doubt Miranda’s about to find out about the fact that you’re still living…” as he rambles, the Soldat storms closer.

“Stop,” you whisper out, shaking.

He examines you then, “That’s real fear there, isn’t it, doll?” he huffs a laugh. “You truly think that I’m that much of a monster? To waste such a pretty specimen on such a gruesome death? No.” He snaps his fingers and uses his powers to urge the Soldat back down the hallway. “You’re lucky.” Another exhale of smoke in your face before he shifts his hands and the metal holding you to the wall loosens enough for you to slide to the floor. “Come on. Get up. No use wasting our time sulking.”

You’re hesitant to follow him to the elevator. Once again he’s acting so flippant and you’re afraid to let your guard down.

Still, what choice do you have? You follow wordlessly because you’re stuck here even if you find out he’s a bad man.

He chuckles at you as you join him on the elevator. “All that spunk is gone?”

You open your mouth to speak, close it, inhale sharply. He blinks slowly at you, crossing his arms.

“What the Hell was that? Are you planning on killing me, Heisenberg? Is this just some drawn out roleplay fantasy of yours? Fuck me, give me Stockholm Syndrome, then off to create me into some corpse of a machine?”

He smirks around the cigar as you raise your voice at him.

“There she is,” he hisses, grabbing you by the hair. “I wondered how long that fear would hide your attitude.”

When the elevator stops, he motions for you to follow him. You hesitate, but you do; slowly, cautiously. The maze of the factory takes you to his quarters in a way you can’t imagine memorizing. He’s silent as you walk together.

Barely into the room, he reaches for your shirt and rips down. The buttons go flying everywhere and the garment falls to the floor – leaving you naked minus your boots.

Heisenberg’s hands move as a collar and chains float behind you. You’re trying to maneuver away but it clasps around your neck before you can move too far. The chains are all connected, your wrists clasped behind your back. Heisenberg shoves you to your knees and you feel cold shackles around your ankles.

Eyes wide, mouth open, you’re too stunned to speak.

He’s in front of you in seconds, looking down at you like he’s inspecting his work. The way he licks his lower lip makes you shift your gaze to his erection right before your eyes.

“Too easy. Didn’t even put up a fight. You going soft on me, kitten? Or is it that you want this?”

He pulls a glove off, crouches down to your level, reaches in between your legs, and feels your wetness. A low groan leaves him.

“Wh-what are you…-”

“You so enjoy this, [Y/N]. Don’t act like you don’t, just embrace it. You like being my plaything – it’s the best job you’ve ever had.”

“Worst pay I’ve ever had,” you retort. It’s sort of a joke, you think.

His hand cups around your throat and he presses in warning.

“Real cute, huh?” He shoves you off, stands back up. “Mmm you have no idea how badly I want that mouth of yours on my cock…but I’ve got a few notes to take and a phone call to see if my dear brother knows of your survival yet. And you’re going to kneel and wait for me.”

He presses his hand to the back of your head, shoves his crotch in your face for a moment until you struggle against him, still unsure how to read the situation.

Finally, he pulls away, leaves you on the filthy floor, and sits himself at his desk.

“You should have just killed me on the bridge if this was all your plan.”

He doesn’t even look at you, which had been a hope of yours. You want to see his expression, see his eyes.

“Keep talking and I’ll bolt metal across your lips.”

Things go silent until he has to make his phone call – just pen scratches across paper and the normal metal clanging of the factory. You imagine more of those Soldats are stomping around somewhere and the image makes you shudder.

You barely notice when he’s picked up the phone, you’re too busy focusing on the pain in your knees.

“No, Moreau, this isn’t Miranda…” he sighs into the receiver. “Yes, I’ve heard that they were agents…no, I’m not worried…look, you globular piss baby: has Lady Gargantuan called you today?...”

You’re waiting for his response to continue but Heisenberg has gone silent. His back is to you so you can’t read his expression once again. You see his shoulders move with his breathing.

Suddenly, the receiver slams.

“This arrangement isn’t going to last long,” he growls as he stands, knocking over his chair.

Before you can respond, he uses his powers to lift up the metal chains around you and toss you to the bed. Face-planted, you struggle to sit up, turn over.

“If that weeping sack of mucus knows, you can bet he’s told the star of his Oedipus Complex.”

Heisenberg is unbuckling his belts, tossing off his shirt, completely undressing with each step toward the bed. You watch him from your awkward, uncomfortable position and your stomach flips.

When he flops down on the bed, he pulls the chains so you’re forced to straddle him. In ankle and wrist restraints, your range of movement is significantly reduced. He knows this. It’s clearly doing something for him as you watch his dick get hard again.

“Ride my cock, [Y/N],” he demands.

Your knees ache, but he helps pull you down onto him and the instant pleasure makes you forget about the soreness in your knees for a little while. Your legs can only spread so far with these ankle cuffs but that sort of adds to the sensation with how tight you are against him.

“Karl,” you whine.

“Mmm, yes, pet?”

“What are you gonna do to me?” your voice brakes as tears fill your eyes.

His expression changes for a fleeting moment. The ankle shackles are opened with a wave of his hand. You feel your knees buckle under you and you fall face-first into his broad chest. Heisenberg runs a hand through your hair, trace down your back. You feel him press his lips against the top of your head, a moan making his chest rumble as he thrusts up into you.

“Right now, I’m gonna enjoy you,” he speaks softly. “We’ll figure out the rest in the morning.”

It’s a soft moment and it catches you off guard. You lift your head up and meet eyes with him. It’s then that you realize his intentions, know in your heart that he was putting on a front for Lady Dimitrescu.

Suddenly, the position you’re in doesn’t seem so dire.

#karl heisenberg #heisenberg #karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you #heisenberg x reader #heisenberg x you #smut #lemon #karl heisenberg fanfic

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atlafan · 4 years

Text

My Everything - Part Nineteen

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, and smut

Words: 11.5K

a/n: I can’t believe this is the second to last part!

Masterpost

You always really liked the beginning of November. The leaves had changed, and it was the middle of the semester. You also, finally, looked and felt your best for the first time in a while. Since Jessica was over six months, she was able to go to day care at the college with Jack. Harry really missed bringing her with him to work, but at least he still had Buster. You couldn’t believe that next fall Jack would be going to preschool. There was a nice place in Milton you and Harry found that you’d enroll him in once spring rolls around.

At the end of your work day, you go to pick the kids up from daycare. Jack was coloring with Ryan, like always. You were happy to see they had stayed such good friends. You told yourself you’d do your best to keep them in contact next year since they’d be going to different preschools.

“Mumma!” Jack exclaims.

“Get your backpack, sweetie, we gotta grab your sister from the other room.” You bend down and kiss his forehead. He holds your hand as you walk over to the next room where the kept the babies. “Ah, there’s my sweet girl. How was she Anthony?”

“A doll, as usual. She giggled a bunch, and took a great nap.”

“That’s what I love to hear. Hi, angel.” You cuddle her to your chest. She was very excited to see you. “Let’s get you both in the car, come on.”

Jack is patient as usual while he waits for you to get Jessica situated in her car seat. You pick him up to put him in his. You furrow your brows at your backseat.

“How the hell am I supposed to do this with three?” You ask yourself. “I’d need to get a car with another row of seats.” You sigh and get into the front seat.

“Three what, Mumma?”

“Oh, nothing, baby doll. Mummy’s just talking to herself.” You laugh.

You and Harry hadn’t really talked about another kid in a while. Things in the house had finally gotten into a decent routine. You were almost scared to bring it up.

“Jack?”

“Yes, Mumma?”

“Do you like having a little sister so far?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I just don’t like when she gets loud.”

“Like when she cries for a long time?”

“Mhm.”

“I don’t like it either.” You chuckle. “Her bottom teeth are coming in, that’s why she’s been crying a little more than usual. It can be a little uncomfortable on her gums.”

“Did I do that when I was baby?”

“Mhm, we used to freeze carrots for you to gnaw on.” You shake your head at yourself. “Sometimes we’d throw a wet rag in the freezer too, anything to soothe you, honey. You used to bite on Daddy’s fingers too.”

“I did?!”

“Yeah.” You laugh. “It was cute. Jessica hasn’t seemed to want to do that. The teething rings work just fine.”

“I like her.” He looks at his sister and smiles.

“Me too…would you ever want another?”

“Sister?”

“Or a brother…I don’t really get to decide…”

“I want her to get big so we can play.”

“I want the complete opposite. I want you small forever.”

“But I’m a big boy, Mumma.”

“Yes.” You sigh. “A very big boy. Dr. Philips thinks you’re going to be very tall, and your sister may end up a shrimp like me.”

“Daddy’s tall.”

“Daddy’s very tall.” You smile.

You liked your chats with Jack on the way home from work. You’ll miss them a lot once he’s in preschool, but you didn’t need to think about that just yet. You hit a little bit of traffic on the way home. You’re grateful when you pull into the garage. You get Jessica into your arms and Jack out of his car seat.

“Hang your backpack up please when you get up into the kitchen, and then wash up for snacky.” You tell him. “I gotta feed this one too. Are you hungry, darling?” Jessica makes a noise and you nod.

You get jack some cut up grapes and then get Jessica a bubby. Once she’s burped you set her down in her bouncy so you can go use the bathroom.

“Wanna see what I colored today, Mumma?”

“Of course I do!” You plop on the floor with him in the living room so he can show you his many drawings. “Is this our family, honey?”

“Mhm.” He beams. “There’s Daddy, you, me, Jessica, and Buster.”

“Are you riding Buster?”

“Yeah.” He giggles.

“We have to put this on the fridge for Daddy to see. He’s going to love it.” You get up and find a magnet and some space to put the picture up.

A little while later just as you’re preparing dinner while also going over ABC’s with Jack, you hear the door slam downstairs. You sigh heavily, especially when you hear Harry stomping up the stairs.

“Daddy!” Jack exclaims. You also hear Jessica getting excited from her high-chair.

Harry doesn’t even come into the kitchen. He just grumbles and goes right into the bathroom to wash up. He comes into the kitchen when he’s done, and looks at you.

“Hi.” He grunts and opens the fridge to grab a beer.

“Our son is waiting.” You nod over to Jack.

“Hey, buddy.” Harry goes over and kisses the top of Jack’s head. He looks over at Jessica and can’t help but smile when he sees her smile. He gives her a kiss as well. “What’s for dinner?”

“Roasted veggies and rice. Should be done any minute. Are you alright?”

“M’fine.” You roll your eyes at him and turn around to look at the veggies through the glass in the oven. “Shouldn’t do that in front of him, not a great habit to pick up.”

“Neither is coming home angry, and immediately grabbing a beer out of the fridge.” You cross your arms and look at him.

“Touché.” He smirks. “I had a long day. Not something I can really discuss in front of little ears.”

“Later then?”

“Yes.”

You nod and get dinner plated up. Harry helps feed Jessica while you make sure Jack’s veggies aren’t too hot. He really liked when you roasted veggies, and you were thankful he didn’t just want hotdogs all the time.

“Mm, delicious, babe.” Harry says.

“Thank you.” You whistle for Buster. “Come eat, baby.” He barks and eats the food you put out for him.

After dinner you and Harry give Jack and Jessica a bath. You lull Jessica to sleep, but Jack is allowed to stay up in bed a little longer. You come into his room and see Harry reading with him.

“Time for bed.” You say. You kiss Jack on the forehead and so does Harry. “Night, angel.”

You both creep out of his room and go downstairs. You both sit on the couch.

“Alright, tell me what happened.”

“I have two interns this semester, remember?” You hum your response. “Well, I couldn’t find either of them for a hot second, so I go to the back to see if maybe one of them was in the bathroom and maybe the other was in the storage closet. No one was in the bathroom, so I go to check the storage closet, and I see it’s locked. I grab Mariah and ask her why it would be locked during the day, and she had no idea, so I grab my keys and I open the door to find the two of them pulling their clothes back on.”

“Stop!” You gasp. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” He shakes his head. “Full on fuck fest in my storage closet. Even we haven’t fucked in there.” He scoffs. “So, I obviously had to let them both go, but that means they may not get college credit, which I sort of feel bad about…they might be able to get one or two credits since they completed half the semester. I have to come to your campus tomorrow to speak with a dean or something. And now I’m down two people right before the holidays. I’m gonna get super busy.” He sighs.

“What about a paid thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you could hire a couple of other college students and pay them hourly or something. It could just be a seasonal thing for the holidays. You’re getting new interns for the spring anyways, right?”

“True…it would only be for a couple of months I’d need to pay them. Do you know any responsible students looking for work?”

“Oh, sure, tons. I can send an email to the film club and see if any of those guys wanna make a quick buck.”

“I can’t believe I have to deal with this.” He groans.

“It’s kinda funny when you think about it.” You chuckle and he glares at you. “Oh, come on!”

“Little rabbits couldn’t keep it in their pants.”

“You remember being that age, Harry. Even in your twenties, you were like that.” You laugh.

“I wouldn’t have risked college credit like that.” He shakes his head. “Morons.”

“Did they at least feel bad?”

“They did, and they were really embarrassed. Isaac spoke to them mostly, I was too aggravated and Mariah had a client coming in.” He sighs. “I just can’t keep them on after something like that, you know?”

“No, it makes perfect sense to let them go. They need to know there are consequences to their actions. You’re doing the right thing, babe.”

“Thanks. Sorry I came home grumpy. Usually I can cool down on the train home, but everything was pissing me off, and then there was traffic from the train station back here.”

“I hit traffic on the way home too. I wonder if there was an accident or something.”

“Who the fuck knows, it’s Boston, there’s always traffic.”

“Poor thing.” You pout at him. “Come here, come lay with me.”

You lean back and rest your head on the arm of the couch, and Harry rests his head on your chest. You wrap your arms around him and rub his head and back.

“How was your day?” He mumbles.

“Good, my students are starting in on their projects. Some of them, uh, are taking bets on if or when I’ll get pregnant again.” You laugh nervously.

“Seems like an incentive thing to make bets about.” He looks up at you. “What if you weren’t able to have more?”

“I’m very honest with them, especially the students that have had me for years. They’re fine. I thought it was sweet. They like seeing pictures of our family and stuff.”

“They just like when you go on your little tangents.” He chuckles.

“What students wouldn’t?” You kiss his forehead. He props himself up to look at you. “What?”

“Your heart is, like, racing.”

“Aw, isn’t that sweet? Even after all this time you still make my heart flutter.”

“Y/N.” He sighs with a smile. “Are you trying to tell me something?” He thinks for a moment and then gasps. “Are you pregnant?”

“No! God, no…but…I’ve been thinking about maybe…what if it was time to try again?”

“I feel like we just got a routine together. Everything’s gonna change next year with Jack going to preschool. Our schedules are going to need to adjust a lot, and you wanna add a baby to the mix of that? You were pregnant during our five year anniversary so we couldn’t go anywhere. This April is gonna be our five year wedding anniversary, I was sorta hoping to take a vacation.”

“While I’m teaching? We’d have to go in March when I’m on spring break.”

“Plus, Jessica’s first birthday will be in April. We’re gonna be really busy. Jack’s still too little to help out.” He sighs. “I don’t know, the idea of it just really stresses me out.” He gets off you to sit up, and you sit up as well. “And you’ve been talking about how much you’ve loved the way you look lately, you wanna start changing all of that?”

“I told you before, I’d do it over and over.” You look down at your lap and twiddle your thumbs. “You…really don’t want another?”

“It’s not that I don’t, I just don’t think right now is a good time.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be right now.”

“Y/N.” He puts his hand over yours and you look up at him. “You know what I mean.”

“Even if I was pregnant during our anniversary, we could still go somewhere. We could go away for a weekend or something. I’d still have fun.”

“Not if you were nauseous and sweaty. Been through it twice with you now, I know how you are.”

“I just feel like I’m playing beat the clock or something. Like, I’m thirty-two, so if we got pregnant soon, then I’d be thirty-three probably when the baby’s born, and then I think that would be enough. I feel like three is the magic number. How nice for Jessica to be so close in age with a sibling, and Jack could find little ways to help if he wanted.”

“We’d be giving up our guest room.”

“We do have my office down here that could be converted if we put a small pull out in there.”

“You want my mother to sleep on a pull out?!”

“No, she could have our bed. Plus, those bedrooms are large upstairs, Jessica could share with the baby. We have one of each, so either way two could share as they got older. I’m…a little shocked you’re not jumping at the chance.”

“I just think we need to be realistic. That’s a third college fund we’d need to invest in.”

“The timing’s never going to be good, Harry.” You cross your arms. “And so what if it’s a third college fund? Do you know how much money I’ll be making by the time the kids would even be old enough to go to college? I’m set to teach two courses online this January, you know that money goes right towards those accounts.”

“I just don’t understand why you want to throw off the balance we have right now. There’s four of us, we have one of each…why do we need another?”

“Harry.” Your bottom lip starts to quiver. “I just have so much love to give, and I wanna give it to another baby.”

“You’re already spread so thin! Jack still fights for your attention anytime you hold Jessica for longer than five minutes. Now you want him to compete with two?”

“Are you sure it’s not you who wants to compete for my attention?”

“Oh, please.” He scoffs.

“Besides, I thought you liked me when I’m pregnant.” You pout.

“I like you all the time, that’s not fair.” He cups your cheek. “As much as I love the idea of having a ton of sex to get you pregnant, I just…can I have some time to think about?”

“Okay.” You lean into his touch.

“I know that’s not the answer you wanted.”

“You’re not saying no, so I’ll take it for now.” You kiss his palm and stand up. You stretch a little, really putting yourself on display for him. “Think I’m gonna turn in.”

“Me too.” He yawns. “I’m fucking exhausted.”

You both do your nightly routines and get into bed. You roll over and Harry wraps himself around you. You wanted to have sex right now, but you didn’t want him to think it was just because you wanted to make a baby. You didn’t want him thinking that was the only reason you wanted him. Maybe once he falls asleep you could go take care of yourself in the bathroom or something. No, you didn’t want some piece of plastic to get you off, you wanted him. You roll over to face him and see he’s already asleep. Of course, just like a man to fall asleep so easily. He pulls you in closer to him, but you pry away, flipping onto your back.

“You’re restless.” He mumbles with his eyes closed.

“Sorry.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Are you mad at me?” He opens an eye to look at you.

“Of course not.” You look at him. “I’m just…in the mood.”

“Because of the baby talk?” He smirks.

“No…just…in general.” You roll back on your side to face him. You grab one of his hands and place it between your legs. He grunts when he feels how wet you are. “Just want you, babe.” You whimper as he presses his palm against you.

“I can see that.”

He slips two fingers inside you, and you grind against him. He keeps a slow pace, just enjoying the way you feel around him. His thumb presses circles into your clit. You press your forehead to his chest to try to muffle your moans. Your nails scratch at his shoulders, causing him to groan.

“Fuck it.” He retracts his fingers from you and pushes you to lay on your back. He drags his boxers off and throws them to the floor. He practically rips the t-shirt you were wearing off.

“What do you mean fuck it?” You giggle.

“I’m gonna pump you silly and get you pregnant. I’m fuckin’ done using condoms.”

“Harry…” You cup his cheeks. “An hour ago it didn’t really seem like you wanted-“

He crashes his mouth over yours, and practically rams his tongue in your mouth to shut you up. He had his reservations, but he had such a tough time telling you no or even denying you of something you really wanted. The thought of you being so willing to put your body through this again because you wanted to carry another one of his children drove him absolutely wild. You said you had all this love to give, and so did he. He wanted to turn into another little bundle with you.

He bites your bottom lip before sitting up to give you some air. You look up at him stunned. He had a dark, lustful look in his eyes. One of his hands travels up to grip your throat.

“Got me all riled up now, gonna let me take care of it?” He asks.

“Yes.”

He grins at you and loosens his grip on your neck.

“Will you go down on me?”

“No.”

“What?!”

“Do you wanna know why we had so much trouble with the first two? I kept eating you out like every time we tried, and apparently saliva can, like, kill sperm. So, unfortunately, I can’t put my tongue on you.” He starts kissing on your neck and down your chest. “Well, can’t put my tongue on your there, at least.” He swirls his tongue around one of your nipples.

“Harry don’t suck or bite, I’m still making milk…”

He rolls his eyes as he kisses between the valley of your breasts. He kisses on the area just above your nipple and bites down hard, causing you to gasp. His hand goes back between your legs to spread you apart. He lines himself up and rubs his tip around your folds and throbbing clit before pushing inside. You let out a relieved sigh. He grabs both of your legs and throws them over his shoulders. His fingers dig into your calves as he starts thrusting in and out of you. Your head rolls back into the pillows as one of your hands travels down to lightly rub your clit.

“Christ.” He grunts. “How are you still so beautiful?” Your eyes meet his and all you do is smile at him. “I mean really, it’s just not fair.”

He drops your legs and comes to you so you’re chest to chest. His mouth is on yours again and you wrap your legs around his waist. Your hands travel to his hair as he takes over rubbing your clit.

“Can’t wait to feel your come, Harry.” You groan.

He drops his head to the crook of your neck. He nearly lost it at your words, but he needed to make sure you got yours first, not that it was a race or anything. He wanted you to feel good all over, and for a little while longer. He rocks into you in a way that hits your g-spot, making you arch up into him.

“Like that, baby girl?”

“Fuck, yes, don’t stop.”

He feels you tighten around him and he knows you’re close. He rubs your clit faster, and that’s when you lose it. A cracked gasp leaves your lips. You twitch and writhe under him as he tries to hold you down. You kiss him as his pace picks back up. You can’t remember the last time you two weren’t interrupted or had to be quick, this was amazing.

“Harry.” You whimper. You weren’t making this easy for him at all. He couldn’t hang on much longer. You were too much when you were so needy like this. “Want you to come.”

“Want me to come, angel?” He whispers in your ear and it sends a shiver up your spine.

You smirk to yourself and grab his face so he’ll look at you.

“Come on, Daddy, put another baby in me.”

“Jesus, fucckkk.”

His come shoots inside you and paints all your walls. You moan out from being able to feel it after so long. He nearly collapses on top of you. He was exhausted. He slowly slips out of you and you clamp your legs together. He rolls onto his back and he looks at you.

“That was evil.” He breathes. You look at him and chuckle. “S’not funny.”

“Yes it is. I call you Daddy all the time.”

“Yeah, in front of the kids. Little bit different in the bedroom.”

“Got you to come didn’t it?” You boop his nose.

“Didn’t need that much help, love, I was about ready to explode either way.” He reaches out to stroke your cheek. “So beautiful.” He gets up from the bed to go clean himself up, and after waiting a few minutes you do the same.

“So…you’re really into having another baby? It’s not just me wanting one?” You ask as you both face each other and cuddle up to one another.

“I want it. I was just being silly earlier.”

“No, your feelings were completely valid, honey. Sometimes I need a reality check.”

“I think…three will be enough though. I think anything more would be a lot for us, but a family of five sounds nice.”

“Technically six, can’t forget about Buster.” You chuckle.

“Right, can’t forget about our oldest.” He smiles. “Do you agree though? Three’s enough?”

“Yeah, three’s plenty.”

“As long as we’re on the same page about that, I’m good with doing it all over again.” He kisses your forehead.

“And then you can get a vasectomy.”

“Y/N.” He groans. “I don’t wanna shoot blanks.”

“But then we’d literally never have to worry.”

“Sometimes they don’t take.”

“So you’d rather me go through some kind of invasive procedure when you could just easily get a little snip?”

“Why are we talking about this now?”

“Because it’s something we’ll need to be on the same page about, Harry. I don’t wanna get an IUD or get my tubes tied. I shouldn’t have to when there’s an even easier, low risk procedure out there.” You rub your thumb over his cheek. “Just think it over, okay?”

“Okay.” He kisses your nose. “Let’s get you pregnant first, though.”

“Agreed.” You yawn and wrap yourself tighter around him. He pulls you in nice and close. Times like this it felt like before you were even ever married with kids when you’d just hold each other like this. “I love you.” You whisper.

“I love you too.” He whispers back.

Saturdays were for raking leaves. Jack loved being able to help Harry outside a little more now that he was a tad older. You were inside with Jessica making grilled cheese and tomato soup for everyone. She enjoyed watching you cook. Once in a while she’d whine because of her teeth.

“Need a new ring, darling girl?”

You go into the freezer for a teething ring and hand it to her. She happily puts it into her mouth to suck on. You smile at her and kiss the top of her head. You were happy she didn’t fuss when she was in her highchair. You go over to the sliding door and you love what you see. Harry tackling Jack down into one of the larger pile of leaves and them both hysterically laughing. If your ovaries weren’t ready to explode already, there sure as hell would be now. You slide the door open and step out.

“I hate to ruin the fun boys, but lunch is ready!”

“Grilled cheese!” Jack shoots up and runs towards you.

“Wash your hands please.”

He groans, but does as you say. Harry comes strolling up to you.

“You as well, Daddy.” You grin.

“Sure thing, Mummy.” He pinches your bottom and goes down the hall to wash his hands with Jack.

You cut up Jack’s sandwich for him in to long quarters. He looks at it funny.

“Why’s it like this, Mumma?”

“So you can dunk it into the soup if you want.” You blow on his cup of soup for him. “Should be cool enough.”

“Hey, do that to mine.” Harry smirks.

“Blow it yourself.” You shake your head at him. “It tastes good, Jack, see?” You dunk your own piece of sandwich into the soup. “Mm, so yummy.”

Jack watches Harry do the same, and that was enough for him. He dunks his sandwich into the soup and takes a chomp out of it. His eyes grow wide and he smiles which makes you and Harry laugh.

“Mm, that’s good, Mumma.”

“Knew you’d like it.” You smile and look at Harry. “Got much left to do out there?”

“Just need to bag it all up and drag the bags out front.”

“Do you need my help for that?”

“Nah, I should be able to manage.” He shrugs. “But thanks.”

“Mumma, Daddy said we have enough twigs for a fire later.”

“Oh, did he?” You tap your chin. “Hmm, I guess that means I’ll have to go to the store and get some marshmallows.”

“Yes!”

“You can take him while I finish the yard if you want.”

“Sure, that’ll work out well. Jessica can nap while I drive around.”

“They both can.”

“No naps.” Jack pouts.

“If you don’t nap then we can’t have a fire.” Harry says firmly. Usually you didn’t like when he would get so stern with Jack, but right now it was working for you.

“Daddy’s right, Jack. We can’t have a fire if you don’t nap.”

“Fine.” He huffs and finishes up his lunch.

Harry helps you get the two of them in the car and kisses you goodbye before getting back to work in the yard. You had Jessica strapped to your chest and Jack in the little seat in the shopping cart. You kept wondering how you might do this with three kids, but by the time a third would be born, Jack and Jessica could both sit in the shopping cart.

“Can we have s’mores, Mumma?”

“Sure, we could do that, honey.” You smile.

You walk around the store and grab all the items. Jessica was absolutely passed out, and Jack’s eyes were getting droopy. You needed to get them both back in the car stat. You just needed to grab the graham crackers.

“Shit.” You say to yourself. You couldn’t really reach the brand that Harry liked. You probably could’ve just lifted Jack up to grab them, but a man standing near you saw your dilemma.

“Need some help?”

“That would be great, thanks.” You smile as he grabs the box and hands it to you.

“Cute kids.” He smiles.

“Oh, thanks. They’re fading fast.”

“I didn’t even know they made gluten free graham crackers.”

“Yeah, my husband prefers them. They actually taste pretty good.”

The man nods as you start to walk away. You get in line and notice that he gets in line behind you. You smile at him again and he returns it. You feel his eyes burn into you as you put everything up on the belt. You were starting to feel uneasy, but you weren’t sure why. You pay for your things, and hang back a moment. You pretend to check the receipt as the man walks by you and out of the store. You notice that he doesn’t walk out to a car. He was just standing near the door. You take a deep breath. It could easily be nothing, maybe he was waiting for a ride, but you were starting to freak yourself out.

“Mumma?” Jack says sleepily.

“I just need to…” You look around. “I need to call Daddy.” You take your phone out and call Harry.

“Love? Everything alright?”

“No…this guy at the store is giving me the creeps, and I’m afraid to walk out to the car.”

“Gimme ten minutes, I’ll take an uber so I can just drive you home.”

“I’m sorry, I just-“

“It’s okay. Ten minutes, honey.”

You couldn’t believe that the man was still there, standing outside. He was definitely waiting for you. You see Harry’s uber pull up and you feel a wave of relief. Harry looked very rugged today. His scruff was due for a shave, he had his bandanna on to keep his hair back, his work boots, loose jeans, and a sweater.

“Hey.” He smiles when he comes in. “Is it the guy that’s right out there?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, gimme the keys.”

“Hi, Daddy.” Jack yawns.

“Hi, buddy.”

Harry takes your keys and grabs the couple of bags out of the cart, and also lifts Jacks out. He keeps him on his hip while he walks out with you. You don’t look at the man as you walk by, and out to the car. You get the kids in their car seats, and Harry drives you home. You were shaking slightly.

“He had to have been waiting for me.” You whisper. “I can’t even go to the grocery store now?”

“You have your pepper spray in your bag, right?”

“Yes.”

“And I showed you how to stab someone with the keys if need be.”

“It’s different when the kids are with me. If I was alone…I don’t know I probably would’ve been fine, but if something happened to me…”

“Don’t think like that.” He puts his hand on your thigh and gives it a squeeze. “What happened, did he interact with you?”

“He helped me grab the graham crackers off that top shelf. You know I can never reach those. I even mentioned I had a husband. Then he ended up in line behind me. I stayed back to see if he was planning to follow me, and he just stood there.” You shake your head and put your hand over his. “Don’t know what I would do without you.”

You and Harry got Jack and Jessica inside for a proper afternoon nap, and the two of you cuddled on the couch for a bit yourselves. You had calmed down from the little scare. You thought to maybe call the store tomorrow to have them check their tapes to see if that man had come in and done anything weird like that before.

“Should we invite Sarah and Niall for the fire tonight?” Harry asks, stretching out to sit up.

“Sure! I’ll text them now.” You take your phone out and text in the group chat you have to let them know they’re welcome to come by. “Probably gonna be one of the last ones. It’s starting to get too cold at night.”

“Can’t wait for Thanksgiving break. Love when we get to be home together for a few days.”

“I know, only a few weeks away now.”

“I’ve lined up a couple of interviews with those students you sent my way. I’m gonna see ‘em Monday. Hopefully they’ll refrain from fucking in the storage closet.” He rolls his eyes.

“How was your chat with the dean?”

“Fine.” He shrugs. “I tried to come see you, but I think you were teaching, and I didn’t wanna disturb you.”

“Since when do you not wanna disturb one of my lectures?” You laugh.

“Well, it’s one thing if it’s at the end of class. Those kids are paying for a proper education, you know?” He smirks.

“How considerate of you.” You crawl into his lap and straddle him. “You know…those two should be asleep for a little while longer.” You lean down to his ear as he wraps his arms around you. “When was the last time we fucked on this couch?” Your words send a shiver up his spine.

“What if he comes trotting down the stairs?”

“Buster will distract him. You know how he loves to pet and play with Buster when he first wakes up.”

“True.” His hand slide into the back of your jeans so he can grip your ass. You roll your hips down on his. “Just gotta be quiet though.”

You nod your head in understanding. You stand up briefly to take your pants and underwear off. Harry undoes his belt and zipper to take his dick out. You grab the blanket and wrap it around your back so you weren’t totally exposed, just in case. You get back on his lap. He rubs your slit to make sure you’re wet as you pump his dick.

Once you’re both ready you slide down on him. You both grunt and moan. He wraps his arms around you and pulls you close as you tuck your face into the crook of his neck. He moves you up and down on him and you whimper into him. You bite down on his soft skin and it makes him thrust up into you harder. You grip at his shoulders and make fists with the material of his sweater.

“Oh, god.” You moan and move your face too look at him. You slot your mouth over his as he continues with his movements. You rock against him to give your clit some much needed friction. “Harry.” You gasp. “Shit, oh my god.” He had you panting already, and with another sharp thrust up he had you coming around him. Your lips find his again to help capture the noises you were making.

It didn’t take him long to come after that. He lays you down puts a pillow under your knees to prop your legs up a bit. He covers your lower half with the blanket.

“Gonna have to wash that.” He chuckles and kisses your forehead. He sees your phone light up and looks at it. “Sarah and Niall are in for the fire.”

“Oh, great! This’ll be fun.”

“Daddy!” You both hear Jack call from his room.

“He must need to shit.” Harry chuckles and you swat at him. “What? You don’t think it’s funny that he only wants my help with that?”

“He gets embarrassed when I help him, and I feel terrible about it.”

“He’s just too polite to shit in front of his mum, it’s cute.”

Harry goes up the stairs to Jack’s room. He was doing a dance like he really need to use the bathroom. He had been using the actual toilet more and more, but he had a tough time going number two alone. You eventually get up and get yourself situated. You go up to check on Jessica who was making babbling noises in her crib.

“Oh, someone’s awake.” You coo. She smiles up at you. “Hi, angel. Mummy change you now.”

You lift her out of the crib and set her on the changing table. You get her all fresh and cozy in a change of clothes and carry her out of the room. You take her to the living room and sit on the floor with her. You watch as she slowly gets herself to her feet.

“Good job, Jessica! Now, walk to Mumma.” You hold your arms out for her to balance on. Harry comes down with Jack and Buster. “Come on, you can do it.” She takes little steps. She wobbles a bit, but she makes it and you scoop her up in a hug and tons of kisses.

“Hey.” Jack pouts and runs over to you.

“Oof!” He nearly knocks you down.

“Jack, that’s too rough.” Harry says and gets on the floor with everyone. He takes Jessica from you and snuggles her close. “Hi, darling girl, did you have a nice nappy?” He boops her nose and she giggles.

“Jack, why do you get so jealous?” You laugh.

“I walk all the time, and you don’t give me kisses.” He pouts.

“Oh…well, I did when you were her age. I’m sorry.” You hold him close to you and give him tons of kisses. “All better?”

“Much.” He smiles.

“Everyone have enough blankets?” You ask the group as everyone’s sat around the fire.

“Think we’re good, Y/N.” Niall says and pulls Jack into his lap. “Now, let’s get this marshmallow roasted.”

You had the baby monitor on your hip so you’d be able to hear if Jessica needed anything while you were all outside. You snuggle up with Harry and he hands you a s’more.

“Thank you.” You kiss him on the cheek.

“Uncle Niall?” Jack asks.

“Yes?”

“How come you and Auntie Sarah don’t have a baby?”

“Jack.” You say. “Not an okay question to ask.”

“Why?”

“It’s personal.” Harry says. “Not all adults have babies.”

“It’s okay.” Sarah says and takes Jack into her lap. “Jack, I work with lots of little kids all day long. I have so many kids that I love and that I care about. So, Uncle Niall and I didn’t really feel the need to have one of our own. Besides, we like just being an Auntie and an Uncle. We get to give all our love to you and Jessica.”

“I thought all married people had babies.”

“Not the case, bud.” Niall says.

“How come Mumma and Daddy had us, then?”

“Because your Daddy likes getting your mum pr-“

“Niall!” Sarah swats an arm at him and he starts laughing.

“Jack, come here.” You chuckle and he walks around over to you with a gooey marshmallow in his mouth. “What’s with all the questions, hm? People like to express their love for each other in different ways. Daddy and I wanted to turn our love into babies, and Sarah and Niall wanted to turn their love into, uh…” You look at them for help.

“Vacations.” Niall says. “We get to travel and see the world, and show everyone around us how much we love each other.” He grabs her hand and kisses it.

“And, we give back to others in need, Jack. Niall and I use the money that we’d spend on babies to donate to different causes. That’s another way we show our love.”

“See, honey, there’s lots of different ways to show love out there.” Harry says. “But I do like getting your mum pregnant.” He grins.

“Okay!” You stand up with Jack. “I’m taking him to bed because you two are idiots.” You shake your head and carry him inside. The three of them laugh.

“Sorry ‘bout that, hope he didn’t make you uncomfortable. It’s sorta rude to ask someone why they don’t have kids.”

“It’s okay.” Sarah shrugs. “Unfortunately we’re used to it. I can’t tell you how many of the parents, even some of the other teachers at school have told me that I’d change my mind.” She scoffs. “I don’t have those motherly instincts. I can babysit no problem, but doing it 24/7? No thanks. I’ll leave it to you guys.”

“I truthfully don’t mind just being an uncle either. I like that we can pick and go as we please, and just do things spontaneously without having to worry. I feel completely fulfilled.” Niall says.

“Me too.” She kisses his hand. You come back out shortly and pinch Harry’s arm as you sit down.

“Ow! What the fuck?” He rubs his arm before throwing it around you.

“He kept asking me why Daddy likes getting me pregnant, you fucking moron.” You take a sip of your drink. “I’m lucky he was tired. Thank god Buster likes cuddling with him or he’d never sleep.”

“Sorry.” He chuckles. “Guess I shouldn’t have been goofing like that.”

“Y/N, has Harry told you about our little plan for spring?” Niall says.

“No, what’s that?”

“We were thinking of becoming soccer coaches, getting Jack started on a team and all that.” Harry explains. “Lots of kids in this neighborhood, could be fun to start a league for the really little kids.”

“Yeah, get some skills early on.”

“But Harry…you’re not very good at soccer.”

“True, but Niall is. Gotta have a kid on the team to be a coach, so he could be my assistant coach, but do all of the actual coaching, while I would bring the snacks and make up the rosters.”

“Does Jack want to play soccer?” Sarah asks. “He really likes to draw.”

“Yeah, he’s told me a couple times, especially when we play in the backyard. He likes kicking the ball around.”

“Then I think it’s a great idea. You could pick him up from daycare and take him to whatever field the practices would be at. It would be fun to see him play on the weekends too. He’d look so cute in his little uniform.” You pout.

“It’s settled then, we’re puttin’ a soccer team together.” Niall smiles and looks at Sarah. “And you can be the cheerleader.”

“Oh, please.” She scoffs. “Y/N and I will be off to the side sipping wine in inconspicuous bottles.”

“I like the sound of that.” You giggle.

You were in the middle of one of your lectures when there was a knock on the door. You go to open and it see it’s one of the workers from the daycare.

“Hi, Dr. Y/L/N, sorry to disrupt your class, but you may want to come get Jack. He’s not feeling well.”

“Oh no! Has he thrown?”

“No, but he says his stomach definitely hurts, and we took his temp. He has a little fever.”

“Alright, um…shit, I have two more classes today. Let me call my husband and see if he can grab him quick.”

“We’ll need him to take Jessica too, she could also easily be sick.”

“Okay.” You go back into the classroom and grab your phone. “Kids are sick, talk amongst yourselves for a moment.” You tell them and step back out to call Harry. “Hi.”

“What’s up?”

“Jack’s not feeling well, can you pick them up from daycare? I’d just take them home, but I have two more classes today.”

“Uhh…oi! Isaac!” You take the phone from your ear at how loud he yelled. “Yeah, I can step out for a bit to get them.”

“Thank you, you’re a lifesaver.” You hang up. “Harry will be there soon to grab them.”

“Awesome, thanks! Sorry again for disrupting.”

“No, I’m glad you came to tell me. Thank you.”

You go back into class and get on with your lecture.

Harry gets to the daycare. He frowns when he sees how pale Jack is. He scoops up Jessica and gets them both into his car.

“Don’t feel good, Daddy.”

“I know, buddy. We’re almost home.”

Luckily Jack didn’t puke in the car, but Harry was nervous he might so he sets him up on the couch with him so he could properly watch him. He puts Jessica in her bouncy. She didn’t have a fever, but he knew that could easily change. Harry gets his laptop once Jack is settled and comfortable, and answers some emails. He felt terrible for leaving, but it was nearly the end of the day anyways.

You get home around four, a little later than usual, but you had a ton of students come during your office hours. You run right upstairs to the living room. Harry was stretched out on the couch. Jack and Jessica both laying on his chest. Both curled up and comfortable on their Daddy.

“Hi.” You whisper.

“Hi.” He smiles. “He puked a couple of times. Think he has a little bug.”

“Oh no.” You frown and sit on the edge of the couch to stroke Jack’s back.

“Gave him some children’s Tylenol. She’s been fine, but she could easily get sick too.”

“I’m gonna go change his sheets. How’s Buster?”

“Been an angel f’me all afternoon. Love being able to just let him outside when I can’t really walk him.”

“Okay, let me take care of his bed and then I’ll get us all fed.” You kiss Harry’s forehead. You start to walk towards the stairs, and then you turn around and look at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You smile.

“I know that look, and you’re nuts if you think there’s gonna be any baby making tonight.”

“The thought never occurred to me.” You scoff. “You just look so cute with them.” You pout. “It’s hard not to want a dozen little babies.”

“Go change his fuckin’ sheets, will you?” He chuckles.

You get Jack’s bed settled, and come back down to feed Buster. You decide that vegetable soup would be a good idea, so you get to chopping and throw everything into a pot with some broth and let it cook. You come back over to Harry and smell Jessica’s bum.

“Oof, she stinks.” You laugh and take her from him.

“I was afraid of waking him up.” Harry sits up slightly and keeps Jack curled up in his arms. “Poor kid. Cried after he puked. I think it made his stomach feel worse.”

You take Jessica upstairs to change her and put her pj’s on, and then bring her back down to get her to walk a little. She balances on your forearms as she takes her little steps.

“She’ll be doing it on her own in no time.” Harry says.

“Eight months, she’s growing so fast.” You sigh. “I love the little curls that are coming in on her head. Gonna have another mop like with him.”

“Must have strong genes.” Harry chuckles. Jack groans, but Harry rubs his back to soothe him.

“I’ll be able to stay home with them tomorrow since I don’t teach. I can just work from home.”

“Are you sure? I could probably stay home.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll take care of them.”

“Mumma?” Jack adjusts in Harry’s arms and opens his eyes slowly.

“Hi, honey. Having a nice snuggle with Daddy?”

“Mhm. Don’t feel good.”

“I know.” You pick Jessica up and carry her to the highchair. Harry carries Jack into the kitchen. “Wanna try eating some soup?”

“No.” He pouts.

“How about some toast?”

“No.” Tears nearly form in his eyes.

“I think he’s afraid of spewing again.”

“He needs to eat something. You know what they say, starve a cold, feed a fever.”

“Toast is probably better, but I’ll have soup.” Harry says.

You nod and fill up two bowls. You give Jessica a bubby for dinner while Harry gets Jack to have some toast. After you clean up, you bring them both upstairs for bed. Buster snuggles up with Jack.

“Baby, we’re leaving this bucket here, if you don’t feel good you can just use that, okay?”

“Wanna sleep with you.” He whines.

“Daddy and I aren’t going to sleep yet. I put nice new sheets on your bed a little while ago, isn’t it cozy?”

“Got her down.” Harry says, coming in. “Buster will make you feel better, buddy. You like sleepin’ with him.”

“Wanna sleep with you.” He pouts.

“Jack, just try to sleep in here, and if you really can’t then you can come in with us, okay?” Harry says. You both kiss him goodnight and leave his room.

“I need a shower, gotta make sure we both don’t get sick too.”

“Oh, good idea. I’ll bring the baby monitor into the bathroom.” You say.

“You’re joining?”

“Why would we shower separately?” You scoff and go down the hall to your bedroom.

You hadn’t wanted Harry this much in a long time, or that’s at least how he felt. It sort of annoyed him that you had basically been fucking a lot just because you wanted a baby. He walks into the bedroom and starts taking his clothes off.

“Actually, I’d like to just have time to myself if that’s alright. They were on me all afternoon.”

“Oh…okay.”

He turns to go into the bathroom, only wearing his boxers. He sighs and turns around to look at you.

“Are we only fucking so much because you just want to get pregnant?”

“What?”

“It would just be nice to feel wanted because you want me, and not because you know I can give you another baby.”

“Oh my goodness, Harry.” You stand up and wrap your arms around him. “Have I been making you feel that way?”

“Yes.” He mumbles.

“I’m so sorry. I’m not sure what it’s been lately, I feel like my sex drive has just really come back in full swing. I mean, I want this baby, but I also just…want you. We’ve been getting interrupted less. I feel like we both have been able to figure out the good times of day to be intimate. I do just want you because I want you. I’m sorry if you’ve been feeling…used.”

“So…you really just wanted to take a shower with me?”

“I thought it would be some nice alone time, but if you want some time to yourself, that’s fine too.”

“No, let’s go in together. I want to now.” You smile and kiss each other before going into the bathroom.

You take your clothes off as Harry gets the water going. You both step in and sigh once the warm water hits your skin. You take turns washing each other, and then he pulls you close to him to kiss you. He backs you up to the wall and pushes you against it. His tongue felt so good against yours and you loved the way his hands were gripping your cheeks. He reaches between your legs to finger you.

“Jesus.” He groans. “So fucking we-“ He looks down as he pulls his fingers out. “Um…love?” He holds his fingers up and you frown when you see the all too familiar reddish color.

“Sorry.” You slip away from him to finish rinsing off.

“Babe, we can still…”

You turn to look at him with tears in your eyes. He pulls you in close and lets you cry into him. This was always the worst part of trying. He kisses your cheek and you look up at him.

“Sorry, um, I can just suck you off or-“

“If you’re not in the mood now, it’s okay.”

“No, we just talked about this not being about making a baby, so-“

“You’re getting upset. You got period, and that sucks, but maybe next month you won’t. We only just started trying again, Y/N. It’s gonna take some time.”

“Right.” You nod. “We should get out in case Jack needs something.”

Harry nods and turns the water off. You get yourself situated and dressed and crawl into bed with Harry. As if on cue, Jack comes walking in with his thumb in his mouth, and his blanky in his other arm. Buster follows as well and plops on the floor.

“C’mere, darling.” You say to Jack. He crawls up on the bed and gets between you and Harry. You put your arm around him and hold him close to you. “Poor thing, Mumma’s gonna stay home with you tomorrow and we can snuggle all day if you want.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, anything you want.” You kiss the top of his head as he closes his eyes. Harry was on his side looking up at you. “What?”

“I get it now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why you always get so…in the mood when you see me with them. You’re such a good mum, makes me wanna make more too.” He smiles.

“And you’re the best dad.” He leans up to kiss you goodnight, and then he turns the light off.

It took Jack a few days to feel better, but once he did he was back to his old self. Jessica caught a small fever herself, but she was fine. You were just happy that neither you nor Harry got sick. The second your period ended, it was on.

Jack and Jessica would be having a cousins sleepover at Erica’s after Thanksgiving dinner, and you may or may not have been excited to have the house all to yourselves for the night.

“Do you think Michael will have fun with so many little ones?” Harry asks on the drive home.

“Oh, sure. He likes being the big cousin. I still can’t believe Erica even offered it up.”

“Her and Mike can handle it. I think she was excited to snuggle up with Jessica.”

“I feel terrible she couldn’t have more…she always says I keep having them for her.” You laugh. “My Nannie used to say the same thing to my mom.”

“Speaking of Nannie…I was thinking for your spring break we could take a little family trip and go see her.”

“Are you serious?!”

“Yeah. She’s only seen Jessica once, it would be nice for her to spend some time with them. Plus, she always comes here. Florida’s beautiful in March.”

“You don’t need to convince me. We can start looking at flights soon. The kids are gonna be so well traveled when they get older. Once they get a lot older when we take them to the U.K. we could start taking them to some other countries.”

“That would be fun. It’s so easy to just take day trips and what not. They’ll be nice and well-rounded.”

“But I don’t want them to be spoiled. Gotta keep them humble.”

“Gem’ll keep them knocked down a peg, she’s really good at that.” He chuckles.

You both get into the house and kick your shoes off. Harry scoops you up and carries you up to the bedroom. Once he sets you down, you’re being pressed up against the wall harshly.

“You’re not too full or tired?” You ask between kisses.

“Nope, are you?”

“Nope.” You grin.

His lips find yours as you wrap your arms around his neck. You tug at the curls on the nape of his neck. This was very exciting. You could be as loud as you wanted, hell, you could leave the door open if you really felt like it. His hands were all over you, groping you wherever he felt like it. He fiddles with the zipper on the back of your dress, but finally gets it unzipped.

“Want you.” He mumbles into your neck as he sucks on your skin. You giggle on him.

“Really? I had no idea.”

“Don’t be cute.”

Your dress falls to the floor. You help him get his clothes off too. You’re just in your underwear as he hoists you up, bringing you over to the bed. He didn’t want his lips to leave you at all. He nipped where he felt like it, leaving behind little marks. He gets your bra and underwear off, and soon his fingers are rubbing around your folds.

“You obviously want me too.” He smirks, holding up his now slick and sticky fingers. He sucks them into his mouth before pressing them inside you.

You groan as you feel him curl them up. His thumb rubs circles into your clit as he pumps in and out of you. He sucks one of your nipples into his mouth but you tug his head up.

“I’m still making milk!”

“So?! S’not like I’m fucking sucking on it to grab a quick drink. You pumped before we left, you should be good.”

“It’s just weird…some could come out.”

“You really think I of all people give a fuck?” It was true, Harry didn’t care about anything of the things you thought would be gross for a guy, like hair and periods.

“Fine, but if you taste anything you have to come off.”

“Deal.”

He goes back to sucking on you, more so just swirling his tongue around your pebbled nipple. He kneads the other one with his free hand has he continues to finger you. You tug at the blankets as your body begins to feel hot all over.

“Oh my god.” You moan. “Harry.”

“Gonna come?”

“Yes, fuck, oh shit!”

He works you through it until you can’t take it anymore. It felt so good to just let your little cry out instead of having to bite it back. He retracts his fingers and sucks on them again.

“Look at you.” He strokes your face. “So flushed.” He smiles. “Was that a good one?”

“Very good.” You giggle.

“So beautiful, my sweet angel.” He leans in to kiss you. “My amazing wife.” He kisses you again. “Love you so much.”

“I love you too.”

He adjusts himself so his tip his playing with your clit. You grit your teeth as he pushes inside you. Your nails scratch down his back, causing goosebumps to raise on his skin. He rocks in and out of you as his tongue finds yours. He just couldn’t get enough of your mouth tonight.

“Have you been, ngh, using a new lip balm or something?” He asks as he runs his thumb over your bottom lip. “So soft.” He leans in and bites down on your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before letting it go.

“I exfoliated them with, shit, this, ugh Harry, I’ll tell you later.”

He chuckles as his thrusts quicken. You wrap your legs around him to pull him closer. His hands find yours and he pins them to the sides of your head, fingers intertwined.

“You feel so fucking good, babe.�� He grunts.

Your heart’s racing as his tip starts to brush against your g-spot. Your head rolls back into the pillows, and he kisses on the now exposed part of your neck.

“Harry.” You moan.

“Say it louder.” He says into your ear.

“Harry!”

“Again.”

“Harry! Oh fuck!”

You come undone just as he’s coming inside you. You felt like you were swimming. You raise your hips to meet his over and over to really ride it out. He pulls out of you slowly and rests beside you. He pulls you close and kisses your hairline. It was quick, but so good. You imagine it wouldn’t be the only time you’d be making love tonight, and you were right. He was inside you again before you knew it.

Jack was finally old enough to understand Hanukkah a little more, and it was the cutest thing in the world. You had a menorah on the kitchen table, and a very small tree in the living room. Your home was decorated with snow men, and other winter scene things.

“Look at this little kippah Nannie sent him. His name is on the inside, so cute.” You show Harry as you get some gifts together.

“He’ll love it.”

“He’ll probably ask why Daddy doesn’t wear one.” You giggle.

“I’ve worn one at more of the formal events.” He defends himself.

“Very true.”

“Mumma! Is it time to light the candles?!”

“Look outside and tell me if it’s sundown.” You chuckle and shake your head as he pouts at you. “Got about an hour, baby doll.”

“Will we get to do it at Grammy’s?”

“Of course we will.” Harry says as he picks his son up. “Grammy has lots of menorahs for us. Are you excited to go on the plane in a couple of days?”

“Yes.” He smiles. “I told Jessica it’s not scary.”

“Well, that was very nice of you.” You kiss Jack’s cheek as you go to pick your daughter up. She’d been crawling on the floor. “Come on, darling, you can stand up.”

“I wonder if she’ll babble a bunch on the plane. I always feel bad for the people around us.”

“Oh well.” You shrug. “Babies make noise.”

An hour or so later, everyone gathers around the menorah. Harry holds up Jack so he can watch you like the two candles and he mumbles along the prayer as you chant it. You were happy he thought it was so much fun.

“Can we have latkes?” He nearly whines.

“We’re going to make them at Grammy’s.” You tell him. “We can stink up her house.” You laugh.

You were incredibly nauseous on the plane. It was rare for you to not feel well with how often you travel this way. You tried to just keep your eyes closed, and focus on your music, but it was difficult with Jessica in your arms, and Jack complaining that he wanted to cuddle with you too.

“Let Mummy rest, Jack, you can sleep with me.” Harry says, lifting the armrest between them. “Come here.” He puts his arm around Jack and holds him close.

“Why does Jessica always get Mumma?” He pouts.

“She doesn’t, Mummy and I take turns with her just like we do with you. Mummy might have to feed her quick, so it’s easier for her to hold her right now. What’s wrong? Don’t wanna snuggle with Daddy?” Harry pouts at Jack and it makes him giggle.

“You’re silly, Daddy.”

“Course I am, Daddy’s are supposed to be silly.”

Harry catches you smiling with your eyes closed, and it makes him smile more. Jack settles into Harry, and then he slowly drifts off. You reach your free hand out for Harry’s, and you’re able to hold hands. Sometimes you missed when it was just the two of you so you could cuddle on these long flights, but you also loved what you had now.

Once you’ve landed, you had to rush to a bathroom. Harry was a bit frantic since Jessica would definitely need to be changed. He hated changing her in the men’s bathrooms because they often didn’t have changing tables. Normally you would take the kids in with you to get them in fresh clothes, but you were so nauseous. You get into a stall and throw up.

“Please, fuck, don’t tell me I have the flu.” You say to yourself as you wipe your mouth. You get up and go out to the sink to brush your teeth. You come back out and wait for Harry.

“Are you alright?” He asks as he hands Jessica over to you.

“Yeah, I just don’t feel one hundred percent.” You didn’t want to say you got sick so Jack wouldn’t be scared. “Jack, hold my hand, baby.”

Harry gets all the luggage, and you both make your way to your rental car, which was a minivan this time around. You get the car seats settled, and get the kids strapped in. Harry holds your hand as he drives to Anne’s.

“I’m sure mum has some pepto you can take. You were nauseous right?”

“Yeah, usually I’m fine, it’s so weird.” You shrug. “I can always go to the drug store if need be. I feel better now.”

Anne was delighted to see her grandbabies. Jack attacked her with hugs and kisses, and Jessica babbled on to her.

“She can sort of walk now, Mum, look.” Harry helps Jessica stand, and she toddles over to Anne’s legs.

“Oh my goodness, growing up so fast! Wait until Auntie Gem sees you! Come in, you must be tired.”

Anne had lunch ready to go for everyone like she usually did. You felt hungry now, but as soon as you sat down you felt nauseous again.

“I’m so sorry, I think I need to lay down for a bit.”

Harry stands up but you put your hand on his shoulder.

“Stay here with everyone, I’m fine.” You smile and go upstairs. You lay down on the soft bed and fall asleep immediately. Why were you so tired? Later, you’re woken up to the sound of Gemma’s voice.

“Y/N?” She whispers.

“Hm?” You sit up. “Oh, hi Auntie.”

“Hi, Mummy.” She smiles and sits on the edge of the bed. “Harry said you weren’t feeling well.”

“I think I’m coming down with something.” You frown. “I spewed at the airport.”

“Interesting.” She smirks, and tosses you a pregnancy test. “Need to pee?”

“Did he tell you to get this?” You chuckle.

“No, but when he texted saying you didn’t feel great I figured…”

“I suppose it would make sense.” You think for a moment and look at the period tracker on your phone. “I haven’t gotten my December period yet.” You furrow your brows.

“When was the last time you two…”

“Um.” You blush. “Well…I mean…”

“Right, right.” She blushes as well. “Think you two are the only married couple with kids that actually make time for that.”

“I do need to pee…I feel bad, usually he wants to be in on it, but how cute would it be if I am, and then I give this to him on Christmas?”

“It would be very cute! Go on, take a wee.”

You go into the bathroom and take the test. The two of you sit in the bedroom until the three minutes is up. You gasp as tears form in your eyes.

“Congratulations.” She says, hugging you.

“Can you hide this in your room? I have a really fun idea for how to give it to him.”

“Of course!” She wipes some tears away. “This is amazing.”

Christmas was wonderful, and it wrapped up Hanukkah perfectly. Jack got to have his latkes. You couldn’t wait to give Harry his surprise. That evening as you were settling in for dessert and pj’s, you grab Jack before he sits with his new toys.

“Honey, I have one more gift for Daddy, could you give it to him for me please?”

“Yes, Mumma.” He beams, excited he’s been given a task. You hand him the small box Gemma had picked up for you, and watch as he goes over to Harry, who was sitting with a cup of tea on the couch while Gemma held Jessica. Anne was sitting on the floor setting up one of Jack’s toys. “Excuse me, Daddy.”

“My polite little boy.” Harry coos. “Yes?”

“This is from Mumma.” Jack hands Harry the small box. Harry looks over at you and you gesture to open it. “Hmm…” He shakes the box and hears some rattling. “What else could Mum have gotten me?” Harry genuinely had no idea what else you could have bought for him, but he was excited nonetheless. Gemma props her phone up to record his reaction. He opens the box and his mouth falls open. He looks at you immediately, who was biting back a smile and tears. “Are you serious?” His voice cracks as he smiles.

“Mhm.”

“Oh my goodness.” He chuckles and stands up to walk over to you. You wrap your arms around each other. “When did you find out?”

“Took it the other day. I have no idea how far along I am, could only be four weeks. I’ll go to the doctor when we get back later in January.”

He cups your cheeks and kisses you.

“Wait…” Anne snatches the box and sees the pregnancy test. “You’re?!”

“Yes.” You giggle. She stands up and gives you a hug.

“What’s going on?” Jack asks.

“Well.” You rub your lower tummy. “I got something growing in here.”

“Another baby?!”

“You bet.”

Jack rushes over to you and gives you a big hug.

“You’re excited?!”

“Yeah! Jessica needs someone to play with too. She’ll be a big sister, and I’ll be a big brother again.”

“He’s smart.” Harry laughs. “You’re the best brig brother there is.” He kisses you again. “Wow, a third baby.”

“And then you’re done, right?” Anne asks. “I love grandkids, but you two wanna be smart about this.”

“Once I know this one’s gonna stick, he’s getting snipped.” You say.

“Oi, I still haven’t agreed to that.”

“Harry.” His mother says. “You’ll do it, and not put up a fuss about it.”

Later that night, as the four of you settle into bed, yes the four of just slept in the same bed while at Anne’s, Harry was beaming at you. You had put Jack and Jessica on one side of the bed for a bit so you and Harry could cuddle.

“Stop looking at me like that.” You whisper.

“Can’t help it, you’re just so beautiful.” He puts his hand on your lower stomach. “Got another one in you, can’t believe it. Do you think it was Thanksgiving?”

“Could have been.” You giggle. “Does this mean you’ll go back to eating me out? Really been missing that.”

“Honey, I promise once Dr. Johnson really tells you you’re pregnant, I’ll go down on you for hours.”

“That sounds nice.”

He leans down to kiss you.

“I’m the luckiest man in the world.”

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #my everything #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles series #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles smut #pls tag if you reblog!#this one is emotional for me #we're almost at the end and i feel so weird!

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cosmicbash · 3 years

Note

One the angsty prompt ideas I’ve been thinking about is Kells practicing how to cook for weeks so he can surprise Em by cooking him dinner, maybe for an anniversary or something, and on the day Kells has planned to surprise him, Em is hours late, leaving Kells alone for the evening. If you’re interested maybe you could write something like this? 🥰

3 years together. One thousand and ninety five fucking days between him and this old dorky man.

It's insane. Downright impossible to believe but Colson knows it's as real and true as the 2 year sobriety chip he's got hung around his neck on the gold chain Marshall gifted him with it this morning.

Both their relationship and his sobriety are as intertwined as their lives are now. Marshall's like the glue that holds all of his pieces together. Picking Colson back up, time and time again whenever he shattered in the beginning and filling in the gaps with his own loose pieces until it was Colson's turn to do the same. Which, by then, it only made sense to combine their puzzles and broaden the picture.

Now Marshall swoops in for Casie's PTA meetings he can’t make during tour. Holding the phone and helping him FaceTime for soccer games and school conferences when flight delays or bad luck keeps him late.

Colson tags along to Whitney's first few dates out in LA, weaving through the public spaces Marshall never could without drawing attention just to make sure she's safe and respected.

They tag team any situation involving the girls, even though Alaina and Hailey both still snicker at him from time to time, and Casie rolls her eyes at Marshall's rules. They're more than just dating now.

They're family.

And even just thinking about that brings tears to Colson's eyes.

Or maybe it's the onions. Baze said chewing gum helped mitigate this fucking problem but goddammit does it burn-

"Fuck!"

He has no idea how he got it in his mind that he could actually cook a meal, let alone a full anniversary dinner for Marshall but here he is. A pot and pan already cooking on the stove and his fingers knicked a dozen times in his rush to cut up more veggies for the sauce.

It's insane.

But Colson's following through with it anyway, because he fucking loves Marshall and that bastard cooks dinner for them every single holiday or occasion so it's about time he stepped up to the plate and did it himself.

Plus he's been secretly practicing for weeks with Baze over both FaceTime and a few in person lessons. Perfecting his simmering styles and meat seasoning to make the tastiest meal he can manage all on his own.

So far the last three times he's made the dish his bassist had given stellar reviews so there's little chance he'll somehow fuck it up tonight knowing it's for Marshall…..at least, he hopes.

The minor setbacks his butchered fingers have brought aside though, so far everything was coming along perfectly. His noodles are boiling (never over the rim, thank you wooden spoon trick), his meats marinating, and as soon as he tosses these sliced onions in his sauce will be cooking down beautifully.

All in all the night is starting to look like it just might be perfect.

Until 6 o'clock passes by and Colson's ears never pick up the click of the front door knob, or the hum of Marshall's escalade pulling up front outside.

The food's still simmering, minutes away from being actually done so he doesn't worry too much. Sure he was hoping to have a sweet moment where his boyfriend comes home and catches him cooking at the stove like a traditional housewife, but seeing his face when the food's done and plated promises to be just as cute.

Besides, Marshall has always fit the housewife role so much better than him anyway. Even the apron Colson's wearing is one of the older rapper's, stolen from his small collection in the pantry to protect his designer sweater.

Colson doesn't start to worry at 6. Traffic can be a bitch.

7 though? And then 7:30 when his texts go unread and his calls ring all the way through to voice-mail? That's when the blonde starts to fret.

He's luckily put off plating because some brief flash on uncertainty had run through him after the food finished so it's stayed warm and simmering on the stove. But even that had to come to an end before 7:30 because his sauce would singe or his noodles might squish, so now Colson's trying to keep busy by perfecting the presentation. Shaky fingers swiping around the edges of Marshall's plate to clean up a splatter of sauce. Every Chopped Judge rambling off feedback in his head until he has it looking like something he's certain even Gordon fucking Ramsey would ask for a bite of.

By 8 the dinner table is set. His plate, Marshall's, the bucket of low alcoholic wine they both love chilling as a centerpiece. Colson even lights a few candles and adds some flowers from this mornings gift exchanges to keep himself from screaming.

There's a pit in his stomach that's steadily been growing though. Every passing minute and glance to his phone where he finds no change only carving it deeper.

Marshall should be home. He never runs this late at the studio without a call, let alone without a message. He's treated his work like any other 9-5 job since before they ever even got together, always strict about his routine and careful to make up for over run hours by leaving earlier the next day. Usually Colson likes to bust his balls and insist he live a little more spontaneously but tonight isn't the one to pull that.

Especially not if it means Marshall's going to completely forget to check his fucking phone and leave him trying not to think the worst.

Colson only males it another 5 minutes before he caves and texts Paul. Fingers tapping fast across his screen to draft multiple desperate sounding messages before he finally settles on a "Em bust his phone again?" That feels just casual enough to not embarrass him in the off chance Marshall decides to burst through the front door seconds after it sends.

The door stays closed though and Paul doesn't open the message at all.

Now Colson can't even start passive aggressively eating dinner on his own if he wanted too. The pit in his stomach has torn itself open wide into a nauseous chasm. Every scary possibility he wanted to avoid thinking about spilling forth from the dark trench like ghouls.

He's dead. Some crazy fan broke into the studio and shot the whole place up. No one's gotten around to tell him yet, that's all. They're too busy dealing with the fallout.

No, Em's security is beyond top tier, and with how close Colson and his current bodyguard are he knows the guy would call him immediately. Marshall's fine.

Unless… what if he was in a car accident? Or some road rage incident gone fatal? Colson's seen Marshall's short temper flare up while driving. They've made dozens of jokes about it in the past, so is it really that unreasonable to believe?

Colson's pacing in the front haul when he calls Porter. Phone tucked between his ear and shoulder while he fights his shoe laces, heart racing in his chest. Prepping to fly out of the house the second Denaun tells him what fucking hospital Marshall's staying in, praying it's at the ICU section and not some fucking morgue.

"Kelly?" The older man sounds confused when he finally answers. Voice high and tone light like he's expecting this to be a butt dial. "What's up man?"

The lack of rush or worry in Denaun's voice almost soothes Colson's panic right on the spot. Surely he wouldn't sound so casual if something had happened.

It's enough to keep Colson from immediately pleading for Marshall's safety at the least. "H-hey, uh nothing really-" Maybe Marshall is even with him right now, realizing how fucking late its gotten and how shit of a boyfriend he's been and that's why Denaun sounds awkward too. "Just uh, waiting for Marsh to get his slow ass home ya know? Sorry, aheh, I'm probably sounding like a fucking needy girlfriend right now, calling his friends and shit-" the longer Colson rambles the more embarrassed he actually feels in the moment.

God he must sound pathetic right now. Panicking over Marshall being a few hours late.

"Waiting? Didn't Marshall head out like 2 hours ago?"

"W-what?"

Colson's blood feels like actual ice in his veins.

"He isn't home? I mean, I know he was gonna stop at- fuck is it already half past 8? Marshall seriously isn't home?" Denaun's sudden panic only heightens Colson's own, but he can't get any more words to come out. Not with how a rock feels like it's jumped up his throat. "Shit, Ryan are you getting through to him? Try Paul-"

Ryan's there too?

"What? Paul's gotta fucking answer-"

They can't get ahold of Paul either?

"Kelly have you-"

Marshall's missing. Colson's been standing around making dinner for hours, worrying over the portion sizes and appearance of his plates and Marshall's been fucking missing. What kind of partner is he? What will he even tell Hailey? Alaina? And fuck Casie is supposed to be coming up this weekend so they can all go vacation together before his next tour-

The front door bumping into his shoe startles Colson out of his frozen panic. Denaun's angry shouting dropping from his ear, as he twists and meets a pair of sheepish blue eyes peeking around the hardwood.

"Hey."

Marshall's…..

"Is that my apron?"

So fucking dead.

"Is this your--" Colson's fingers are curling around the edge of the door so fast he doesn't even care that it makes his phone fly to the floor. "That's what you want to fucking say to me!?" His anger is boiling fast, replacing the cold in his veins with lava. "You fucking piece of-"

Marshall stumbling inside with the yanked door is expected, but the flash of bandages and a sling douse Colson's flames like a bucket of water. "Ow, fuck just give me a second to explain-"

He's hurt.

Now with all of Marshall visible Colson's hyperaware of dry blood splattered on his white graphic tee and scratches partially hidden within the rapper's beard along his cheek. "I got in an accident out on the M-8, it was minor but-"

Colson really can't handle all these rapid mood switches Marshall is putting him through today.

“You fucking idiot-“ Tears are bubbling up in his eyes and it’s like his hands can’t reach his partner fast enough. Pulling Marshall into his arms for a tight hug despite the pained noises his actions inspire. “Stupid, old asshole-“ Marshall’s hurt, the cars probably wrecked, but he’s home and that’s enough of a relief to finally smother that pit weighing down his stomach. “Don’t ever scare me like that again!”

A moment passes before he’s hugged back, shock more than likely freezing his partner up but when Marshall does loop his good arm around Colson he pulls him close. So close Colson is the one who’s bones feel like they might ache. “Can’t make any promises about that,” The older rapper’s palm feels warm when it climbs to cup his neck, Marshall’s face turning to press a kiss into Colson’s throat.

That brush of lips is the final crack to release the flood gates.

"I love you."

"I know."

"I really really fucking love you."

"I know baby."

"I don't care how old your ass is, you better hold out and fucking die after me like a proper goddamn boyfriend, you hear me Marshall?" He's getting snot all over the older rapper's shirt. Full on smearing it across his own cheek and the fabric with every pointless rub of his face. "I love you so fucking much. Can't do this without you."

"Told you I'm not dying after you unless you kill me first, and I'm chasing you into the afterlife once you do go too. Fuck all the marriage shit, death ain't parting us either you brat." Marshall's tone is light and his palm is doing wonders to comfort him by rubbing circles into his back. It's enough to slow his hiccupped breathing down a few notches. "I dunno if you noticed but, I'm a little obsessed with you."

That drags out a wet snort. "Y-yeah?" When Colson pulls back to meet Marshall's eyes he swears he can see a wet shimmer starting to glaze over his partner’s as well. "Prove it then."

There's a flicker of something in blue eyes, so fast that Colson almost thinks he hallucinates the emotion altogether. But then Marshall's wrapped up arm wiggles between their bodies. The dark blue of the sling catching and sliding so his scratched up fist can shimmy its way partially out. "Planned on it-" There's something clutched tight there, black peeking out from between Marshall's finger and thumb. It's got Colson's heart dropping down into his stomach all over again. "What do you think I was driving so late on the M-8 for?"

"Marshall-" It can't be.

"Colson." But his shithead of an accident victim boyfriend is pulling back, both his good arm and slung arm awkwardly flailing in the air for a moment as he drops down on one knee. The visible wince not hidden as well as Colson imagines the man wants it to be. But Marshall's eyes are softening, and the blonde feels completely cemented in place. The only part of him moving being the uncontrollable shaky quiver of his bottom lip. "I had a whole moment planned, there were flowers, balloons, and those stupidly expensive alcoholic chocolates you love, but they all got absolutely trashed in the crash. Like, half of Detroit is probably going to think the Macies Thanksgiving parade started early. Paul called to have it all replaced, and honestly some intern is probably going to come banging on the door in about 20 minutes but I don't want to wait-" There's a flash of genuine worry that's furrowing the skin between Marshall's brows as he continues. "So I'm sorry this isn't gonna be that fancy perfect proposal you've always dreamed of-"

"Shut up." Colson's voice can't go above a whisper. His tone quick and clipped from how anxious he is to hear the man finally finish. "Just- shut up, ask me. Ask me Marsh, please-"

"Fine, always need to rush me."The rapper's lip quirks at the corners. Hands transferring the small box between eachother with a bit of fumbling. "Will you, Colson Baker-" Until Marshall can finally get it open with an audible clunk. "Legally commit to being with my annoying old ass forever?"

#sorry i had to give it a happy ending #i hope thats okay #🥺🥺#kells totally snots all over Em's shirt even more #and they end up sitting there at the dinner table #Em shirtless and Kells grinning like an idiot #eating cold food and being utterly inlove until the intern finally shows up #em slipping him a good couple hundred dollar tip #emgk #asks

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cakelanguage · 4 years

Text

A very self-indulgent fluffy piece for RiVer. I just want these two to have a happy ending so I’m giving it to them! I hope you like this :)

You can also read this on AO3

It wasn’t even noon when V got a ping on her Agent from River. A small smile graced her face despite being in the middle of taking out another gonk for Wakako. The gig wasn’t hard - a simple in-and-out retrieval of some intel that’d fallen into the wrong hands, but even simple jobs sometimes involved taken out a guy or two. This one was harmless, not even worth the street cred it might get her for taking him out so she simply knocked him out and stuffed him in one of the bins conveniently posted outside the room.

Really it was like they were asking for people to just dump bodies in them. Actually, that was probably exactly what they wanted to happen. Fewer cleanups for the police to have to deal with and all.

Pocketing the shard that’d been on the desk, she pulled up River’s text.

Hey babe, you busy?

She grinned and quickly sent a negative to him. She barely found time to hang out with River, what with all the Arasaka and Johnny bullshit she’d been dealing with the past few months. Now that she wasn’t in imminent death from the Relic she honestly just wanted to spend some time with her boyfriend. Fuck if she wasn’t going to take advantage of River and her not being busy.

You available to call?

For you? Always. xoxo

She could almost hear Johnny groaning at her being mushy. She felt a pang of loss as she thought about the rockerboy and placed a kiss on her fist before she raised it to the sky. She hoped Johnny was out there somewhere giving the corpos hell from the deepest levels of cyberspace.

The call popped up and she quickly answered as she walked toward the drop-off point.

“Hey River,” V chirped, quickly taking in his appearance in the little window in the upper corner of her vision.

“V, hey yourself,” River said, a lop-sided grin settling easily on his face. “How’ve you been?”

She hummed noncommittally. “Can’t complain too much, definitely been missing morning cuddles though.” And perfect cups of coffee. And the polarity of temperatures between River’s cybernetic hand and the warmth of his skin. And kisses.

She felt needy, missing him so much and all the little things he did. But maybe needy wasn't so bad.

“I’ve missed them too.”

“Think we can change that then?”

“Yeah, case is closed and I’ll be back by this evening.”

If V could’ve purred with delight she would have. “Mm, I’m a lucky girl.”

River laughed, shaking his head. “I’m the lucky one.”

Warmth flooded her cheeks and she didn’t even try to hide her pleased grin. “As much as I’d love to just talk about how lucky we are to have each other, something tells me this isn’t strictly a pleasure call.”

Her boyfriend gave her an abashed smile. “You caught me,” he admitted.

She laughed. “Well go on, let’s hear it,” V teased. “What do you need? A contact? A lead? Someone, to do some super sleuthing?”

“No, no, nothing like that, it’s uh- it’s actually kind of a favor for me and Joss.”

Since she’d met River she’d steadily been getting closer and closer with Joss. It was nice to have another girlfriend, though with Judy and Panam, not to mention Misty and Rogue (if she could count Rogue), she wasn’t exactly lacking in them.

But Joss was different. She was a single mom who busted her ass to provide for her family. It reminded her starkly of her older sister back when the Bakkers were still around. And though Joss sometimes brought up painful memories for her, she loved the woman.

“I don’t mind helping you two out,” V reassured, finally dropping off the shard. She’d get the eddies within the next half hour and if need be she could split her earnings to give to the family. “Anything you need, I’m your girl.”

A husky chuckle echoes over the coms. "Anything, huh?"

"I helped take down one of the leading corpos in the world with an engram of a rockstar slowly taking over my brain - I'm open to just about anything at this point."

"Fair enough." River let out a breath of air. "Joss asked me if I'd meet her this afternoon at Heywood General Hospital to pick up Randy."

V's eyes widened. "He's been cleared for release?" She hadn't thought Randy would be released for another few weeks. It'd been touch-and-go at the beginning and although he'd come a long way since the farm, he still had plenty of recovering to do.

"Yeah, I was shocked too, but I've been visiting him and he's doing a lot better than he was."

Anything would've been better than the drug-induced catatonia that he'd been in when River and V had found him in that barn. She was still haunted by the half-lidded eyes and slack jaw that had been behind that plastic mask. "That's great," her shoulders relaxed from their previous position, "I'm glad he's doing better."

"Me too, and Joss is happy she gets to bring him home."

"He gonna be in his trailer again?"

River made a noncommittal noise. "That's up to him really. We don't know how he'll feel about being alone now but we've decided to let Randy feel his way through this one."

Made the most sense to V. "Alright so you and Joss are going to pick up Randy and you want me too…?" V asked, shifting their conversation back to the favor River and Joss wanted.

"Oh uh right yeah," River scratched the back of his neck. V wanted nothing more than to ease the man's nerves about whatever he was going to ask. "Since Joss and I are going to be getting Randy, we need someone to watch Dorian and Monique." He didn't pause to let her get a word in edgewise. "Usually one of the neighbors can watch them but most of them are busy and then I might've suggested that we could ask you." He scratched at his cheek and shifted his gaze to the side. "You can say of course, but I figured-"

"Babysitting the little rugrats?" V asked with a grin, interrupting her boyfriend's spiel. "You trust me to watch 'em?"

"V," River had that tone to his voice that was part scolding and part fond, "you're their 'Auntie V,' they'll be cheering when they find out you're watching them."

"I don't know, you did joke that I was the one who needed a babysitter."

He snorted and raised a meaningful brow. "And sometimes you do, but I have total faith in you on this. As does Joss."

"Well I guess I can trust Joss' judgment," V teased. "I can be there in twenty."

River's shoulders sagged at her acceptance. "Thanks, babe."

That mushy feeling returned with vengeance and V was sure she had some stupid look on her face. “Want me to make something for dinner?”

Her boyfriend whistled. “Got myself a lady who can kick ass and offer to make dinner.”

“Riv, come on,” she rolled her eyes trying to appear stern, “Dinner a yes or no?”

“Dinner would be great, to be honest. Joss and I were planning on picking something up on the way home.”

That wouldn’t do at all.

“Uh-uh, nope, no way am I letting Randy’s first meal out of the hospital to be some fast food soy protein that’s no much better than the shit you can get with a kibble card.”

“Hey, I’ve seen you eat that crap before,” River argued, though he looked more amused than anything.

“Details, details,” V waved a dismissive hand, “Randy have any food restrictions or favorite foods?”

Food had been a big part of V’s life growing up with the Bakker’s. Food didn’t just mean fueling the body, but feeding the soul. Her mother had once told her that a good meal could heal the body just as well as medicine. Looking back, V knew her mother had been exaggerating but she’d taken the statement to heart because a good meal showed someone you cared for their wellbeing.

Her boyfriend pondered her question as she pinged Jackie’s bike to meet her so she could leave.

“Well, he liked my jambalaya when I snuck some in for him to try last week.”

“Hot or mild?”

“Believe it or not, spicy.” His smile took on a bittersweet edge. “Told me it was the first thing he’d been able to taste since everything went down.”

“Then it’s good he got to taste something delicious,” V said.

River’s smile lost that edge and regained the softness he only showed when he was talking about his family or V herself. “Feel free to keep stroking my ego.”

V shook her head with a snort. “Maybe later,” she offered while mentally going through the repertoire of recipes she still remembered. Something spicy, strong flavors that the whole family would like. “Think he’d eat gumbo?”

“Gumbo?”

“Yeah, learned to make it back when my family was still together...”

She remembered the crowded prep stations, her underfoot as she helped as much as she could under her mother and sister’s tutelage. She remembered her uncle sneaking bits from the cutting boards and popping them in his mouth, sending her a wink and an exaggerated shushing motion to not say anything.

River didn’t interrupt her musing, instead, he waited patiently as she sorted her thoughts. He understood that if he interrupted V she wouldn’t finish talking about her past.

“Mealtime was one of the few times we all tried to be together and pause from our other duties,” V explained. “We made all kinds of stuff depending on who was in charge of dinner, but I know gumbo was my favorite and it’s similar to jambalaya.”

“A family recipe and your favorite, huh?” River commented, “I look forward to trying it.”

It didn’t matter that V hadn’t made gumbo in two years. She wanted to do something for her new family. "It’ll probably take me a little longer to get home since I’ll stop and get them on the way.” She revved the engine and patted the side of the bike. “See you, River, tell Randy we'll be waiting for him at home."

The silence stretched over the line and V had to make sure her Agent hadn't malfunctioned and dropped the call. But River was still connected, just stared at her with this shocked look. "You okay?" V asked.

Her question shook River from his stupor and he gave her a besotted look. "Yeah I'm fine," he reassured, "see you at home after Joss and I pick up Randy."

"Preem."

She snagged the veggies from an Aldaecado who sold some of their crops at the Sunset Motel and picked up some synthetic meat that didn’t look too bad and set course for the trailer park. The ride was as peaceful as ever and V cranked Jackie's bike to the max speed down the straightaways, shaving off five minutes from her ride. The Badlands were some of the best places to go full-throttle without having to worry about a bunch of traffic.

Joss stood on the porch while Monique and Dorian listened to whatever she told them, playfully jostling each other as much as they could get away with. As soon as they spotted V though, they dashed towards her with the exuberance that was only ever found in children. V knelt down with a laugh and opened her arms in invitation.

"Auntie V!" Monique cheered, reaching her first and throwing herself into V's waiting arms, scooping the little girl up into a full-body embrace.

V had quickly discovered how much the two kids liked their hugs and who was V to deny them that?

Dorian quickly followed, wrapping his arms around her legs. "Mom told us you're gonna watch us while she and Uncle River bring Randy home," Dorian said. "Which means we can play together again!"

V laughed and shifted Monique to her hip so she could ruffle Dorian's hair. "Only if you're willing to take this rookie under your wings," V said.

The two giggled and reassured her that they'd show her the ropes, both puffing up with pride.

She managed to slowly walk towards Joss with the two limpets clinging to her laughing and cheering. She saw the poorly hidden laughter that Joss was trying to cover up as just a smile. V was glad she could make the crow’s feet on the women's face crinkle instead of deepening the worry lines that were far too prominent on her friend's face.

“Hey Joss,” V greeted, shifting Monique enough so that she could pull Joss into an awkward one-armed hug.

“Hey, V,” Joss replied, pulling out of the hug. “Thank you so much for being willing to watch the kids.”

“Willing? I’m more than happy to watch them, you know that.”

V and the kids got along like a house fire and she cherished all the little games they’d play together. It gave V an excuse to check-out of adult stuff and focus on entertaining River’s niece and nephew. It had done wonders for her mental health.

Joss smiled and reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Monique’s ear. “Still, I know it’s last minute. Neither River nor I were expecting them to give Randy the okay to leave the hospital.”

“And Randy’s probably been chomping at the bit to leave that place, right?”

The woman scoffed, shaking her head. “If he could’ve, I’m sure he would’ve broken out of there after the first five days.”

“A boy after my own heart.”

Despite going to a number of ripperdocs, regular hospitals, and trauma centers left her nervous and itching to leave ASAP. River practically had to drag her to the hospital just to get a full brain scan after the Relic incident.

Joss rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “We shouldn’t be more than a few hours at most. Pretty sure it’ll mostly be paperwork and finding out any home care we need to know about for Randy’s recovery.”

As usual, Joss was fairly matter-of-fact about the whole thing but she couldn’t hide her worry. V figured she’d be just as worried if her baby had gone through what Randy had. It didn’t help that her relationship with her son had been strained before and no matter how much they’d talked since the incident there was still the unknown of how their relationship would go once he was home again.

“He’ll be excited to see you,” V said, setting down the girl in her arms.

Monique tugged at Dorian’s shirt and the two were off chasing after each other.

Joss remained silent but her shoulders relaxed some. Finally, she seemed to shake herself out of her thoughts. “If the kids get hungry-”

“Feed ‘em something that won’t give them a sugar rush,” V dutifully replied. “I know, Joss don’t worry, I can handle these two just fine.”

Joss sighed. “I know you can, but a mother can’t help but worry,” she managed to give V a sly smile. “You’ll understand when you and River have a kid.”

V made a choking noise as her face flushed. “J-Joss, we-we haven’t even talked about marriage yet.”

“Hop to it, V,” Joss joked with a clap. “Need you to make an honest man out of my gonk of a brother and I want to be an aunt at some point in the near future.”

It was a nice thought, getting married and starting a family with River. It sounded terribly domestic and kind of wonderful if she was being honest.

But her and River could talk about that later.

Much later.

“Go on, get going,” V shooed, “Randy’s waiting.”

“Alright, alright, we can talk about giving me nieces and nephews later,” Joss relented. ‘If you want to get takeout, I have a few menus in the kitchen with Dorian and Monique’s favorites circled.”

“Actually I was gonna make gumbo,” Seeing Joss’ surprise she continued. “It’s a family recipe and I haven’t made it in a while but River said that Randy liked his jambalaya so I figured he’d probably like gumbo too since it also has a strong flavor. But uh if they won’t like it-”

“V,” Joss interrupted with a grin.

“Hm?”

“I really hope River does marry you.”

V blushed and returned her grin. “Yeah me too.”

She’d managed to make the roux for the gumbo while Monique and Dorian were playing tag and now she just had to let the gumbo simmer which meant she was completely free to play. The two were more than ready for her to join them, bouncing around her as she quickly donned the AR set.

The blue tint to ‘Trouble in Heywood’ flooded her vision and she took in the kids’ game personas: Captain Joan McClane and Lieutenant Henry Callahan. It still made her laugh when she saw them, the two rough officers that looked like they were ex-Militech before joining the force. It didn’t help that the backstories they’d given them were so serious.

“Didn’t know if you’d come back, rookie,” Captain Joan, Monique said, her arms crossed and her face stern behind her shades. “Thought what you’d seen when we took down El Chamuco Endiablado was still clinging onto ya’.”

Lieutenant Henry Callahan, Dorian scoffed. “Nah, the two rookies we worked with for the takedown were good, and that’s coming from me,” he argued.

“Sounds like we might’ve grown on you two lone wolves, huh?” V teased, cocking her hip as she checked her gun.

“Don’t get cute with me, rookie,” Captain Joan said.

V raised her hands. “Fine, fine,” she bounced her eyes back and forth between the two. “What’s the situation today?”

“With El Chamuco Endiablado gone, we created a power vacuum and the force is flaggin’ under the pushback,” Captain Joan explained.

“Which is why they’ve called us in,” Lieutenant Henry added, “Regular force just won’t cut it, gotta call in the best of the precinct to take these goons down.”

“We called you in for backup, rookie. All you gotta do is keep up and watch our backs, we can handle the rest.”

“No doubt about that,” V said, “But y’know, I gotta make it home to my partner, promised him I’d make it back.”

“The other rookie?” Lieutenant Henry asked.

“The one and only.”

Captain Joan shook her head and cocked her gun. “Battlefield’s no place for emotion, rookie,” she advised. “We need to dedicate ourselves to taking this filth out.”

V nodded her head and squared her shoulders. “Yes, ma’am,” she saluted, “Are we ready to start?”

Lieutenant Henry gave her a wild grin. “Those bad guys can’t escape justice.”

They ended up playing three different rounds of ‘Trouble in Heywood,’ each round further expanding the narrative. In the last game, Lieutenant Henry had gone rogue to zero José Luis, a Valentino who’d gotten away with murder because the NCPD “didn’t have enough evidence to convict him.” According to Captain Joan, Lieutenant Henry had been harboring secret feelings for the murder victim and he was out for blood.

Honestly, V wasn’t sure where the kids pulled these plots from, but they were endlessly entertaining.

She looked up from the pot she was stirring and made sure the kids were still sitting at the table she'd sat them at with a snack. It didn't look good to her, but Monique and Dorian cheered at the sight of it so at least they liked it.

She tapped her spoon against the rim of her pot and set it to the side. "What do you two wanna do now?" V asked, taking a seat beside Dorian.

"Mom usually makes us practice our reading and math," Dorian grumbled, his eyebrows scrunching together. "We aren't even going to school yet, it's like lightyears away."

"Lightyears, huh?" V mused, propping her chin against her hand. "That's a pretty long time."

"I know!" Dorian threw his hands up. "She says she wants us to be ready and stuff but it's so boring."

"The worst," Monique agreed. "But maybe since Mom isn't here…" She trailed off and gave her puppy dog eyes.

Yeah, that wasn't going to work on her. "Oh no-"

"Please, V?" Dorian begged.

Then it became a cacophony of pleading words and promises to work harder tomorrow. Taking them on one-at-a-time, but both of them at once? Not even worth considering arguing.

"If I let you skip this lesson time," she started, the kids already whooping beside her. "I said if. "

The two nodded seriously, “We’ll do it,” they promised readily.

V shook her head, squinting at them with a skeptical look. “I haven’t even said what you have to do if you skip your lessons.” Monique and Dorian traded confused looks before turning back to her. “The first rule of any kinda deal,” she held up one finger, “you gotta listen to the whole deal, otherwise you might be signing yourself up for something worse.”

“You wouldn’t do that,” Dorian insisted.

“How can you be sure?”

“Cause you’re nice,” Monique said. “You wouldn’t do that.”

“Maybe not to you guys, but I’ve conned my fair share of gonks.” Their faith in her left a warm feeling in her chest. “Alright, but back to the deal. I let you guys skip, but you guys have to help me make a welcome home sign for Randy.”

Two pairs of wide eyes stared at her, mouths agape. “We’re gonna make a billboard?” They asked.

V bit her lip and shook her head. “Not a billboard, little short on time and really out of our budget.” She rifled through her pockets and pulled out a small device. “Had this bad boy for a while now, usually I use it to pull up my schematics or tweak one of my daemons, but I’ve got an app that’ll just let us create a design we wanna display.” She fiddled with her Agent and turned the phone towards them. “I’ve got the words, but I need two experts to really make it shine, figured you two would be perfect for the job.”

“Really?” Dorian whispered.

“Really really.” She leaned back, her smile relaxed and open. “I can do some graffiti or graphic style stuff, but you guys know Randy best.”

Monique kicked her legs back and forth and stared at the screen with a frown. “Last time we saw Randy, he didn’t want to hang out with us and said we were annoying him,” she mumbled just loud enough for V to hear.

Her heart sunk at the solemn tone of the girl’s voice. That was when Randy had been in Peter Pan’s grasp when he was being gaslighted with promises of understanding and promises of help.

You can tell a kid that their sibling loves them and what they were going through, but it didn’t erase the hurt that kid felt. And they didn’t fully understand.

Even so, reassurance was better than nothing.

“When Randy last talked to you,” V stated, making both kids look at her. “He was going through some tough times.” She picked at her nail as she tried to find the right words. How much did they know about what happened to Randy? “Do you know what happened with Randy?”

Dorian hesitantly shook his head. “We knew he went missing, and Mom said that you and Uncle River found him and brought him back,” he said.

“And he’s been at the hospital because he was hurt when you guys found him,” Monique added.

V nodded her head. “That’s the gist of it,” V admitted. She hesitated before continuing. “Randy thought he had a… friend, but when he went to meet this friend, he turned out to be a bad guy.”

“Like… the bad guys in our game?” Dorian asked.

V fought a grimace. “Worse.” When her statement was met with silence she continued. “Randy was captured and was hurt real bad while he was held captive.”

She’d never get the image of those kids gassed up and comatose, hooked up to those fucking machines out of her head. No matter what she did, she still remembers the frantic way her hands shook as she checked pulses on cool bodies and tugged out crusted IVs from limp arms.

“According to your Uncle River, Randy’s doing much better,” she reassured, trying to assuage some of their unease. “But he’s gonna need you two to help him, even if he’s grumpy and being mean.” She playfully punched her palm. “Sometimes you just gotta break through their defenses and make them understand. Which is why,” V gestured to her Agent, “We’re making him a special welcome sign.”

“And… it’ll help Randy?” Dorian asked.

“Showing him you care and are happy to see him can sometimes be exactly what a person needs.”

Monique and Dorian turned to each other and nodded before turning back to V. “You can count on us!”

V clapped her hands. “That’s what I like to hear!”

#RiVer #river ward #female v #v x river #river x v #cyberpunk 2077 #cyberpunk 2077 fic #my fic

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thiswasinevitableid · 4 years

Note

Have you seen the post going around about the zoom class with one guy and his full streamer setup vs the guy whose just in the middle of the woods? I know you have a prompt list rn but I’m just saying there’s a sternclay fic in there somewhere...

It is! Here you go!

Life is better with order. Or, at the very least, with some attempt at patterns, organization, or consistency.

Which is why Stern has carefully arranged his desk, his chair, and his equipment in the background. Streaming as a hobby and a side hustle means he has some (okay, a lot) of practice making his digital self look just right. He needs to make a good impression on the first day of the semester.

Unlike some people.

“Holy shit man, are you in the woods?” Duck, the guy in a “Monongahela National Forest” shirt, grins as he asks this of another student whose screen consists of a forest clearing, a log, and the name “Barclay.”

“Yeah. Hang on, lemme finish getting the phone balanced.”

“Dude, that’s like, way better than my background” this comes from Jake, in front of a poorly rendered half-pipe.

“Can’t really take credit for it, just where I ended up.” Barclay sits down, and Stern gets his first look at a man so tall he barely fits in the frame, with a short, coppery beard and an honest-to-god man-bun.

Damn west coast schools.

“How is your battery going to last long enough for class?” Stern leans back in his chair, certain Barclay will have “battery trouble” halfway through as an excuse to cut out early.

Barclay smiles, lifting up a small green and black rectangle, “solar battery. Not everyone needs fancy gadgets for school.” He aims a pointed stare at Sterns set-up.

“It’s important to have the right equipment.”

“Whatever you say, man.” He lifts a cup of iced coffee into the frame, sipping it through a straw. It’s the picture of relaxation, as if nothing is wrong in the world. As if this is all totally normal.

Stern wants to reach through the screen and slap some sense into him. Preferably while he’s shirtless.

He chalks that thought up to not having gotten laid since last December and pulls up his note taking software as Professor Chicane enters the room.

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

Private Chat 9/20/20

Duck (he/him): I timed it, we’re already at ten minutes of arguing.

Indrid (he/him): I know Ned enjoys their demonstrating the different modes of rhetoric, but this is a bit extreme.

Duck: To be fair, Joe does seem kinda uptight.

Indrid: Yes, but Barclay should know by now that zeroing in on him during our practice debates only results in this.

Duck: Yeah. Oh shit, are they for real wrapping up you think?

Indrid: We can only hope. Skype me tonight?

Duck: Of course, sugar.

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

What is Joseph’s problem? He’s got a set-up that would make a pro-vlogger jealous, what looks to be a well-lit apartment with some houseplants and the kind of coffee-cups that are weirdly lacking in personality. His clothes are immaculate, his hair slicked back as if he;s in a business meeting rather than an online class in the midst of a chaotic world. So why is he acting like everything is terrible? And why is he always arguing with Barclay, when there are plenty of other people in the class to disagree with?

“Now” Mr. Chicane’s voice booms through the tiny speaker on his phone, “if you all had a chance to read over the instructions, we will begin the first mock debate. Do we have any volunteers?”

He and Joe raise their hands at the same time. Mr. Chicane raises an eyebrow.

“While I appreciate your eagerness, gentlemen, I would like two other volunteers this time.”

That’s fine by him. It’s not like he likes listening to Joseph get all wound up and passionate, making everyone on the call sit up and take notice of him. It’s not as if he enjoys being the center of his focus.

Nope, not at all.

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

Private chat 10/11/20

Jake (he/him): Dudes, did you see who got paired up on the final project?

Aubrey (she/her): Chicane must be getting them back for all the times they’ve hijacked discussions.

Duck (he/him): Man, for their sake I hope it works out.

Indrid (he/him): This is going to be a disaster.

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

“Are you out of your mind!” Stern is talking before Barclay’s video is fully on.

“Nope. And you don’t have to yell, my speaker works just fine.”

“You’re outside, for all I know there’s a ton of ambient noise.”

Barclay, phone obviously in his hand as he walks through the trees, groans.

“And don’t try to derail this; how can you possibly suggest I come out there so we can do the project in person? We’re supposed to be limiting travel and gatherings.”

“Look, Joseph, we both agree that trying to generate our own cryptid hoax is the best way to demonstrate all the techniques Ned wants us too, right?”

“Yes” he hides his answer behind the rim of his coffee mug.

“We’ll do a way better job if we work in the same space. And if it makes you feel any better, I haven’t had any human contact in three weeks; all quarantined up, unlike whatever you’ve been doing in the city.”

He sets the mug down with a thunk, “I haven’t been out in a month. And before that was only for one grocery run and a hospital visit.”

“Uhhh-”

“I cut my hand cooking. So. Yeah.”

Literal crickets chirp, courtesy of Barclay’s end of the line, as the silence stretches on.

“If it helps, it’s real easy to stay isolated here, and I’ve still got utilities and everything.”

“And you’re not subsisting only on MREs or granola or something?”

A deep chuckle, the kind that makes his skin prickle, “Nope. That much I can promise.”

Stern glances around the studio apartment, clean and empty.

“What’s your address?”

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

Look, all Stern is going to say is that he’s seen and read plenty of stories that start with a cabin in the woods and none of them end well. Which is why he’s still sitting in his car, parked beside a beat-up Subaru, rather than knocking on the door.

Breathe in, five counts. Out for four. Repeat four times.

Waiting for him on the door is a note.

Joseph,

Key under mat, make yourself at home.

Barclay.

He brings in his bags (a matching set of three, a gift from his aunt last year), placing them in the tiny guest room. It’s not much more than a bed, a dresser, and a tiny table. But there’s a heating unit below the window looking out into the woods, which is pretty pleasant. He’ll be keeping the blinds closed at night, though; he hates the thought of something being able to look in.

Stern’s busy evaluating the laundry closet when the front door opens.

“Hey, glad you found the place okay.”

Barclay stands in the doorway, a basket full of fruit in one hand. He’s remarkably kempt for a man living in the woods and that, combined with the deep voice being even richer in person and the fact Stern has to actually look up to meet his eyes, has him stumbling for words.

“Your directions were very thorough. Thank you. Um. I put my things in there, should I, um-”

“I can give you the grand tour.” The taller man sets the basket on the dining table, notices Sterns puzzled expression “there’s a piece of property about a mile thataway that has orchards they don’t really use. They let me come and pick whenever i want, less for them to clean up.”

Barclay keeps up a steady monologue as he shows him the cabin. The lower level is the living room and dining area, a kitchen which leads onto the back deck, Sterns room, and a bathroom. As the cabin is A-frame, the upstairs is Barclay’s room, all dark wood and pine colored plaid. It’s as Barclay is telling him about the woodpecker that sometimes nests in the eaves that he realizes why he’s talking so much.

He’s nervous.

Neither of their nerves improve when he gets to his last point of order.

“Uh, so, the bathroom downstairs is only a half-bath.”

“So...if I want to shower, which I do, I have to come up here.”

“Yeah.” Barclay scratches the back of his neck, “sorry. I don’t, like, sleep naked or anything so we should be fine.”

“Disappointing.” Stern sighs, only to sail past sarcastic and land face first in sincere.

Barclay blushes, then shrugs, “Trust me, after the first night, you’ll see why.”

Stern does. He’s warm as long as he’s in bed, but the moment he ventures into the bathroom in the middle of the night he’s cocooned in cold.

The morning brings cinnamon and coffee on the draft coming under the door. He plods into the kitchen in search of caffeine, finds Barclay in an pron, the counter covered in trays of dough.

“Morning!”

“Morning. Coffee-”

“Right there, sugar and stuff’s in the cabinet above it, cream and such is in the fridge.”

Blessedly, there’s heavy cream to be found, and soon he’s sipping from an enamel mug emblazoned with a UFO made of veggies.

“Is this all for your job?” Barclay mentioned he was a cook during an icebreaker.

“Yep. Way it works is I bust my ass baking once or twice a day, and Thacker, who works with Mama at the Lodge in town, comes and takes them over there. Normally I’d just be there but, well, y’know.”

“Everything is on fire? Figuratively, I mean.”

“Sometimes literally too, but yeah.”

As he’s turning to grab his clothes and head showerward, Barclay adds, “You a scone man, coffecake man, or a cinnamon roll man?”

“Coffeecake?” It comes out hesitant.

“There’s no right answer, man.” Barclay sounds amused, “what do you want?”

“Cake, definitely.”

“Cool. I’ll save you a slice.”

Once he’s showered and on the wi-fi, his day runs like normal; one lecture, reading, a research paper, his initial half of their project, and working either his copy-editing or transcription job in between, and planning his next stream. Barclay comes and goes, stops now and then to see if he needs anything, leaves a sandwich in front of him around dinner time. Then it’s time to crawl under the covers and dream of a less-stressful world.

The next day, just before one, Barclay taps him on the shoulder.

“Ready for class?”

“Yes…” He gestures to his laptop and notebook.

“C’mon, join me out here, it’s way nicer, and we can share the phone.”

“Barclay, it’s a nonsensical way to attend class, just stay in here with me! Even this set-up has to be better than the woods.”

“This set up. You mean my house?” All the friendliness leaves hi voice.

“Yes. Look, I agreed to come out because you’re right, if we want to ace this thing that’s worth sixty percent of our grade, this is the place to do it; I don’t have to go along with the whole self-sufficient woodsman aesthetic while I’m here. “

“Yeah, I’d say you’re pretty far from self-sufficient. See you in class.”

Stern stews through the entire session, but where he’d usually find something Barclay says to latch onto, he instead gnaws on himself. Why didn’t he just go with him? Why snap at someone who’s been nothing but nice since he got here?

Whatever the answer, how can he fix it?

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

Barclay tromps back through the twilight, done with his second class of the day. If Joseph is in the main house, he plans to ignore him until tomorrow morning. That all goes out the window with the clank of dishes from the kitchen.��

Peering in reveals the other man bent over, pulling a casserole from the oven. He waits to announce his presence until Joseph is out of the danger zone, enjoying the view as he does.

“Smells good.”

Blue eyes flick over to him as Joseph opens drawers, “it’s mostly cheese and chips, so I’m not surprised.”

“Servers are in that one.”

“Thank you. Nacho pie?” He scoops some into a bowl, holding it out.

“Sure. Uh, look, Joseph I-”

Joseph holds up the server, “Wait. Before you apologize I, um, I wanted to say I’m sorry for my comments. And for being so...me-ish.” He sighs, staring at the utensil in his grip, “I’ve always been a little bit tense, tried to be polite and effective and friendly in spite of it. The last six months made that harder to do. I don’t love it when I can’t be organized, when normal systems go out of place. But that’s no excuse for being rude to you, even before you invited me here. You’re just so...you’re always so calm and relaxed, like nothing was wrong and I just honed in on that way more than made sense. I’m sorry.”

“If it makes you feel better, I kinda did the same thing. You’re always so put together, it looked like you had this organized life in the midst of this whole shitstorm. I feel lik everything is slipping away, like my world is just this cabin. I mean, I assumed you were seeing friends in the city, while I haven’t seen Mama in person since April. So” he sets the bowl down, rests his hand on Joseph’s shoulder, “I’m sorry too.”

Joseph laughs, softly, “turns out we both had failures of imagination, huh?”

“Yeah” he runs a hand over Joseph's back, “now come on, this dinner’s not gonna eat itself.”

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

“You sure you don’t wanna wear the bigfoot costume?”

“Positive. Besides, it suits you.” Joseph finishes styling the fur on the head of the costume to look more realistic, “I just hope we get this done before that storm comes in; as mush as the rain would add to the mood of the scene, that’ll be hell to dry and you’ll be miserable. So, go lurk over there while I finish up getting the camera settings where they need to be.”

“Yes sir” Barclay pops the head on, leaves crunching as moves to his appointed tree. He smiles as he watches Joseph fiddle with the camera; things have been so much better between them these last two weeks. They trade off cooking dinner, study side by side, and watch movies or play games in the warmth of the heater. They have a similar sense of humor and taste in books, and are tidy to boot. Joseph’s even come with him to listen to lectures in the woods, the pair sharing a thermos of coffee under the astonished gaze of their classmates. There’s just one problem.

Barclay’s buried crush is now blooming in every direction. Animated, argumentative Joseph was attractive. Joseph, in all his moods and mannerisms, is devastatingly enchanting. He’s come close to telling him this, but the other man is his guest and also only here for another two and a half weeks, so a confession is setting himself up for heartbreak at worst and awkwardness at best.

He almost blew it last night when they were washing dishes (Joseph scrubs, Barclay dries and puts away).

“Last one.”

“Thanks, blue eyes.”

“What was that?”

“Uh, blue eyes? Like a, uh, a nickname?”

Joseph laughs, “Sounds like something from a Raymond Chandler book. I like it.”

On the plus side, if Joseph thinks it’s just a nickname and not a pet name, maybe Barclay can keep using it.

“Are you ready?’

He sticks up a hairy thumb and calls, “you know it, blue eyes.”

That same laugh as Joseph takes up his position. Maybe it’s the weird film over the costume’s eyes, but Barclay swears he sees a blush.

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

Stern trawls through the search results. Their video is getting some traction, with two cryptid hunter sites claiming it’s credible footage. He’s making note of how the information spread, which threads lead to belief and which to doubt, when Barclay calls from upstairs.

“Joseph? Little help?”

The other man is in the bathroom, and when Stern knocks he says, “Think the pilot light on the water heater went out again, all I’m getting is cold water. Can you go relight it?”

“Sure.” He gets to the stairs then, stops, “where’s the key to that closet?”

“Huh? Oh, shit, right, hang on” Barclay says at the same time as Stern’s “don’t worry, I can find it.”

Which is why the instant he turns back into the bedroom is the same instant Barclay steps out of the bathroom, blue towel around his waist.

Any blood that doesn’t head south goes instantly to Stern’s cheeks.

“You okay there, blue-eyes?”

“It’s completely unfair how good you look without a shirt.”

He clamps a hand over his mouth.

“Idn’t ean to ay at out oud” The mumbled explanation makes Barclay smirk.

“You like this, should see what’s under the towel.”

The unusually bold statement from Barclay kindles his own confidence.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, big guy.”

“Who says I won’t.” Barclay sits down on the edge of the bed, nonchalant and leaning back on his hands, “got plenty of time to make good on them.”

“We literally don’t. I go back in a week and two days.”

Barclay toys with the lint on the towel, “you could stay. Through break, through next semester, for however long you wanted.”

“Do you mean that?”

A shy nod, “I like having you around, Joseph. Even beyond the huge fucking crush I have on you I...everything is a little better when you’re around.”

“I, um, I guess it could work. We know next semester is online too, and so is work, so…” there must be variables missing, something he’s not seeing, some reason this is too good to be true.

“You want some space away from shirtless me to think about it?”

“That’d be great.”

Barclay stands, hesitates, then plants a quick kiss on his forehead, “take all the time you need, blue eyes.”

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

Private Chat log 1/11/2021

Barclay (he/him): Did you see the look on Duck’s face when we turned up in frame together.

Joseph (he/him): Yes. Pretty sure Aubrey yelled something about him needing to pay up. I wonder what the bet was.

Barclay (he/him): Whatever it was, pretty sure I came out the biggest winner.

Stern snorts, trying not to blush on camera, and leans over to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek.

#agent stern/barclay #sternclay #taz amnesty #college AU

63 notes · View notes

infinitethree · 3 years

Note

Does it ever feel weird having to deal with so many different versions of yourself?? How does Day deal with the fact that so many Dreams are evil and cruel??? How does Theo feel about most Technos and Tommys?

Day considers the question, having been asked right in the middle of making dinner. He doesn’t falter at all in the action of chopping vegetables, nor does he look up from them.

“Well,” he starts as he tosses the mound of veggies into a waiting skillet, followed by what seems to be some sort of seasoning mix, “it’s definitely not something I enjoy. But at the same time…they aren’t me. They walked a different path in life and became different people with different motivations and mentalities. It was honestly weirder when I first met Dream Prime; he was, at one point, literally me. Our lives diverged when Vio showed up for him and things got worse for me. It was utterly boggling to wrap my head around that I was essentially thirty years in the past in a place I ripped out part of my soul to escape from. I was faced with…essentially a child version of myself who was shown a mercy I wasn’t. He’s infuriating, even if he’s better now than he used to be.”

He sighs, pushing the vegetables around the pan as he continues, “But…once I had multiple breakdowns in private over that and properly understood that despite us having the same past, our present selves are distinct people…it was unlikely that much else would really phase me. The average Dream being at best a petty tyrant is sad, but ultimately I care more about helping those who are hurt than spending my time and energy on those who don’t deserve it. I’ve found my peace and atonement for my past in extending my hand to those in need and doing whatever it takes for them to be safe again. If that means cutting down their Dream, then so be it. I didn’t hesitate the first time and I won’t hesitate in the future.”

The meat is tossed into the mixture, Day giving a faint shrug. “The Dreams who aren’t evil or were but have repented, yet still wound up in really bad situations are far worse for me to cope with than the cruel, sadistic ones. There have been a few that are…hard to really think too hard about. Thankfully it’s not my job to fix everything, and that’s what we have the server-wide therapy mandate for.” He huffs out a little laugh, shaking his head slightly. “It’s incredible that the guy who used to do some very, very dark forms of torture reformed a server, got reverse-adopted by three teens, and mostly threatens people with prank wars or grounding if they go too far. To be fair, he also does still torture if he feels the need to. We’ve had…some situations out in the field where it came in handy.”

His eyes narrow slightly as he stares down at the browning meat. “We’ve all discussed that both as a group and with our own therapists. Sometimes others have to die or suffer so that we can help those who most need it. I’ve made my peace with that and fully trust that if I were ever facing Vio it would be because I deserve it. It would likely be a situation in which one or both of us have been broken in some way, in which case it would be hard to truly blame him for making me suffer. I’m aware that that’s a very fucked up mentality, but it’s an extremely hypothetical scenario. I implicitly trust both him and Theo with my life. To do otherwise is to risk the safety and possibly lives of not just them but everyone here as well. I have, again, made my peace with that.”

================

Out in the living room, Theo lifts his head slightly from his book. He’s on the couch and sprawled on his stomach. One wing draped at an angle over the back of the couch, the other halfway on the floor. It looks a little weird, but he seems fairly comfortable.

The question is mulled over for a minute or two before he starts talking. “Mmm…I usually like other Tommys way more than I like Technos. Taking fuckin’ baseline–canon, I think one of you called it–into account, it makes fuckin’ sense. It’s real fuckin’ hard to feel sympathy for Technos after I saw what Tommy went through. Still pissed that I had to fuckin’ see that; s’ not my place to bear witness to his fuckin’ darkest hour. If he wanted to tell me about that, it should’ve been his choice and his alone. S’ different when we appear in the middle of somewhere to fuckin’ intervene or whatever.”

His expression grows cold for just an instant before it smooths back to just displeased. “So…yeah, I look at that, then I look at fuckin’--Techno ‘hurr durr anarchy and anarchy alone is the answer, what do you mean not everyone can fight a fuckin’ army and maybe humans fuckin’ evolved as social creatures for a fuckin’ reason’ Blade and don’t like him! He showed more empathy towards his Prime-damned horse being threatened than he did for his ally and friend’s son committing suicide by father…n’, y’know, forgive me for being fuckin’ appalled at the idea of basically being halfway him. The ones I can stand are usually really fuckin’ unusual ones, at least in the fuckin’ cosmic sense. Attie, of course, then usually ones where he’s not the most powerful person in nearly any given fuckin’ room. Aleph is a decent one, for fuckin’ example–even if his life was pretty shit. Poor dude.”

The wings shift a little as he resettles himself, and he looks back down at his book. “So yeah–usually Tommys are pog, Technos are shit. S’ a pretty good summary. Outliers exist, but they’re fuckin’ outliers.”

#Asked&Answered #DayDreamer #ChaoticTheseus #long post #ChronoTag

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years

Text

Eccentricity [Chapter 10: Stay, I Need To Be Myself]

A/N: I hope you enjoyed the fluffy times while they lasted. 😉

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “Where Were You When The Sky Opened Up” by The Dangerous Summer.

Chapter Warnings: Language, sexual references (not graphic), angstttttttttt.

Word Count: 6k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @youngpastafanmug @simonedk

Uninvited

“Hey, it’s our song!” Joe turned up the radio as he steered his Subaru down the Lees’ cobblestone driveway and into a parking spot facing the woods. We’d been back from Chicago for a full week now, and—with the notable exceptions of classes and the early morning hours when Joe soundlessly crept out of my bedroom window—were very rarely apart.

“And I would do anything for love

I’d run right into hell and back

I would do anything for love

I’d never lie to you and that's a fact.”

“Uh, this is not our song,” I objected, the soles of my shoes propped against the dashboard. “I was not consulted. A couple’s official song cannot be a unilateral decision.”

“But I'll never forget the way you feel right now

Oh no, no way

And I would do anything for love

Oh I would do anything for love

I would do anything for love, but I won’t do that

No, I won’t do that.”

“Oh okay, what are you, the relationship police? Alright, Chief Baby Swan, let’s hear your brilliant suggestion. Wait, let me guess. Something by The Killers. Vampire Weekend. My Bloody Valentine. Is there a band called Chipotle Veggie Bowl?”

“Never Gonna Give You Up?” I suggested.

He laughed, dragging me over the center console and into his lap. “Oh, you are the worst!”

I straddled him in the driver’s seat, cupped his face in my palms, giggled as I touched my lips to his, soft and cool and lithe and inviting. When I broke the kiss, Joe pulled me back in, knotting his fingers through my hair. The way my thighs fit perfectly around him; that sharp, instinctual, now so familiar ache of longing. “I want you,” I breathed.

He pretended to be scandalized. “Right now? At this exact moment? In my parents’ driveway?”

“Yeah,” I confessed.

He grinned, unbuckling his belt. “Okay.”

“Really?!”

“Yes. I’ve lost all sense of decency. I’m an animal. You’ve absolutely ruined me.” His hands travelled beneath my U Chicago sweatshirt and tore it over my head. Yes, he had converted me to Chicago apparel. It was very embarrassing. Let’s move on.

“I’m sorry,” I moaned softly. I lied. I wasn’t sorry at all.

“I think we might need to get our own place.”

“Why?”

“Because I love the way you ruin me. And I want you to do it...” He went on, kissing me after each word: “All. The. Fucking. Time.”

I yanked off his Cubs t-shirt in one vicious tug. “We’re okay out here?” I didn’t really care; I should have, I was aware of that. But I didn’t. The Lees, most likely, would not call my dad to report us for public indecency. I could imagine Scarlett’s voice in my head, warm with approval: Get it, girl.

“Totally. And we’re far enough away from the house, Rami shouldn’t be able to hear us.” Joe nipped lightly down the side of my neck: carefully, always so carefully.

“He’d only get your side of things anyway.”

“Well yeah, that’s what I’m worried about! Your thoughts wouldn’t be so intrusive. I don’t care if he knows I’m a fantastic lay.”

“Oh, are you?” I teased, grinding my hips against him. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Joe smiled as he unbuttoned my jeans, deliciously slowly. “Well let me...just...refresh your...memory...”

I kissed him, roughly and deeply, arching into him, biting his lower lip. Yes, yes, yes...

Joe pulled away, still smiling but blinking and dazed. “Wow, all the sudden I feel...like...really calm.”

“Thanks...?” A week of almost constant sex might do that to a person. Sure, maybe, what did I know? My lips found his again. My hand skated down his bare stomach and into the waistband of his boxers. Joe began to help me peel off my jeans; then he stopped.

“Wait wait wait, I know this feeling.” Joe lifted me off of him and pushed me back into the passenger’s seat, gently but stubbornly. I tried not to be offended.

“What—?”

“Shhh.” He grabbed the headrest of my seat and twisted around to peer out of the rear windshield. I followed his gaze. There was a new car in the driveway, parked up by the front porch: an anonymous black Honda Civic. The plate said California. It was probably a rental. “Oh fuck,” Joe whispered. His eyes were enormous, glassy, horrified.

“What is it?”

“Stay here.” He threw on his Cubs t-shirt, zipped his pants, fastened his belt. “Stay down, stay quiet. And no matter what happens do not get out of this car, do you understand me?”

“Joe, why—?”

“Do you understand me?” His voice was low but severe, so incredibly unlike him; his dark eyes were flinty. Just like that night with the apples in Mercy’s kitchen, that night when Ben almost...

“I understand,” I heard myself reply.

“Good.” Joe climbed out of the Subaru—smoothing his shirt and then his tousled hair—and rushed over to intercept the unsolicited guest. I peeked around my headrest to watch, my right palm braced against the center console, that feverish lust that had been rushing through my bloodstream gradually weakening, perishing, vanishing like seawater baked from the sand under a rising sun.

The stranger stepped out of the Honda Civic, and although I knew his face, it took me a moment to place him. It was like—I could only imagine, having never been myself—a child stumbling into their movie heroines and beloved stuffed animals come to life during their first trip to Disneyland, amazed and yet somehow gut-twistingly uneasy as they gawked up at that grotesquely inflated cartoon face, that mask of lipstick and rouge that didn’t quite match their recollections, that dreamlike mirage plucked from pages or screens and impelled into a physical form that suddenly swallowed up space and gravity and oxygen. I had seen this stranger before in the massive painting that adorned Gwilym Lee’s upstairs office.

Cato.

He was very tall and very beautiful, classically beautiful, Ben-level beautiful. Joe often jokingly referred to him as Idris Elba within the Lee household, and a mid-thirties version of Idris Elba was just about right. He wore an immaculately tailored grey suit and aviator sunglasses, which he removed to greet Joe, folding and then sliding them smoothly into the front pocket of his suit jacket. His face was solemn and observant; he had a closely-trimmed beard without a fleck of silver. He extended a hand, which Joe shook.

“Hey, Cato!” I heard Joe say, muffled through the walls of the Subaru. I couldn’t make out Cato’s replies; his voice sounded deep, rumbling, extremely level. “So nice of you to stop by! I didn’t know you were in town. Yeah, everyone’s doing great. Even Ben. Hahaha, yeah, you know how he is. You know exactly how he is. But it’s all good. Well look, I’m just gonna go run a friend home and then I’ll be back in fifteen, maybe twenty minutes and we can all chat. Okay? Awesome. Feel free to head inside, I’m sure Mercy would be thrilled to play hostess. There’s sweet tea in the fridge and a hummingbird cake on the counter and...oh, something else too...some weird type of cookies she baked this morning. Help yourself. I’ll be back before you can say ‘tyrannical vampire murder cult.’”

“Tyrannical vampire murder cult,” it looked like Cato replied without a hint of a smile. But he wasn’t paying attention to Joe anymore. His eyes had found the Subaru, and then me; he was staring with that intense, seeking bewilderment that reminded me of Rami and Lucy and Ben when I’d first met them, when they were still trying to puzzle out why my mind (and my mind alone) was a night-draped, silent ocean of the unknown.

He's trying to read me, I realized. He’s trying to read me and he can’t.

Joe was jogging back to the Subaru now. At last, Cato turned away from me and headed into the house. The carved pumpkins from Weber’s Farm still lined the front porch: Scarlett’s Thunderbird, Archer’s Vantage, Rami’s swooping bat, Lucy’s moon and stars, Joe’s moustached jack-o-lantern, my (but actually Gwil’s) snapshot under the sea, Ben’s miniature Lee residence complete with the winding cobblestone driveway. Joe swept into the driver’s seat, adjusted his rearview mirror, and spun out of the parking spot.

“Goddammit,” he hissed as we barreled down the driveway.

“Why is Cato here?”

“I have no idea.” Joe looked straight ahead as he drove, preoccupied, consumed with possibilities. His fingers drummed the steering wheel. “We have to pay dues to them, all the covens do. Gwil cuts a check. But that’s not until around the New Year. That’s almost always when Cato stops by. Collects the payment, interrogates us in a way that masquerades as conversation, hangs around town for a few days, reports back whatever we’re up to...which usually isn’t much. Holidays with the extended family, gotta love it. I don’t know why he would be here now.” Joe shook his head. “Maybe something to do with Ben. It would have to be Ben. There’s no other reason.”

“And you don’t want him to know about me.”

“No, I don’t.”

“But...Cato isn’t all that dangerous,” I said, not understanding. “Is he?”

“Not alone, no. But the people he works for are.” Joe sighed, glancing over at me as he drove, serious and sorry and sad. “There’s a lot of violence in my world. A lot of darkness. I’ve tried to protect you from that as much as possible. And maybe I’ve done too good a job, maybe it’s too easy for you to forget what we really are. Most vampires aren’t like Gwil’s coven. They’re not like me. They kill easily and unrepentantly. And I don’t want any of them knowing that you exist, that you’re a weakness of ours. I want them to know as little about you as physically possible.”

“A weakness,” I repeated. I didn’t like that.

He smiled faintly. “It’s a compliment to be somebody’s weakness, Baby Swan.”

“I guess so.” The towering pine trees whipped by in a verdant blur. The sky above was thick and grey and churning. “You’ll be okay, right? Ben will be okay?”

Joe seemed to find that amusing, ridiculous even. “You don’t need to worry about us.”

“But I still do.”

“We’ll work it out, whatever it is. Cato is a reasonable guy. And Ben is definitely capable of...well. Advocating for himself.”

Capable of unparalleled carnage, he means. The memory of the first day I’d met Ben hit me like a hurled stone, illuminated my mind like a pulsing neon sign: the coiled tension in his muscles, that mindless, animalistic hatred in his eyes. Yes, he must be quite the monster when he wants to be. But he didn’t want to be anymore. I knew that completely, unquestioningly.

Joe pulled into Charlie’s driveway. The police car was gone; my 1999 Honda Accord and Charlie’s Toyota Corolla rested idly side by side. My dad would be working late tonight, until eight or nine at least. A pang of loneliness struck in my gut, just beneath the ribs; I had grown so accustomed to the absence of solitude, of quiet. The silence suddenly felt so loud.

“Don’t let it ruin your night,” Joe said as I got out of the Subaru. His words were affectionate; but his voice was still distracted, distant. “Don’t let it bother you. Everything will be fine, I promise. And as soon as Cato’s gone, everything will go back to the way it should be.”

“Okay,” I replied, not feeling very comforted at all. I don’t like the way he pushed me off him when he saw the car. The way he’s barely looked at me since. The way he called me a weakness.

Joe was already checking his mirrors, preparing to leave.

“Hey. Mob guy.” I leaned into the rolled-down window. “I love you.”

And the grin lit up Joe’s face like the sun. He crawled across the passenger’s seat, drew me into him by the collar of my brand new U Chicago hoodie, kissed me until that wild, interrupted desire was flaring up again in my arteries and nerve endings and everywhere else. The thunderous clouds in my skull split open. Everything’s still okay. It really is. “I love you to death. And then back again.” He retreated and shifted the Subaru into reverse. “I’ll see you soon. But maybe not too soon, I might be tied up with this family thing for a while. Don’t wait up tonight.”

“No problem. I’ll just call one of my other monster boyfriends to keep me company. The werewolf should be free. It’s not a full moon, is it?”

“No bestiality,” Joe retorted sternly. “That’s illegal, ma’am.”

I smiled and waved as the Subaru swerved out of the driveway and disappeared. Everything’s okay, I told myself, standing in the front yard under darkening skies. Everything will be okay.

And I kept telling myself that, again and again like Hail Marys, until I was dozing off in my bed alone six hours later.

Hit It And Quit It

I dreamed of the beach at La Push—my toes wriggling beneath the cold sand, the ricocheting cries of seagulls, the primordial growl of the frothing waves—and woke up with the ghost of saltwater in my sinuses. I grabbed my iPhone off the nightstand. Two new texts: one from Archer—Hey would it be distasteful or hilarious to dress up as Dracula for the Lee Halloween party? Asking for a friend.—and one from Jessica asking if she could copy my Marine Botany homework. Absolutely nothing from Joe.

When was the last time I didn’t have a text from Joe waiting for me in the morning? I struggled to remember, my mind still foggy with snippets of dreams. A week? Two weeks? A month? It felt like forever.

I tapped out a text to Joe with my clumsy, just-waking-up thumbs: I am resolved. No more nights with my werewolf boyfriend. Dude scratched the hell out of me and then barked at the mailman. Had to drop him off at the SPCA for neutering. See you soon! xxxx

I tried not to obsessively check my phone as I showered, got dressed, gathered my textbooks and notepads and pens. And yet still, I noticed: Joe didn’t text me back.

The rain poured from a grey sky all through my drive to Calawah University, Marine Botany class with Jessica, our frantic dash across campus beneath her hot pink umbrella to Forks And Spoons. My human friends had custody of me during lunchtime today. Angela was studying for a Computer Science quiz, Eric working on an article for the Calawah Chatterbox, Mike histrionically lamenting a sprained ankle coming just on the cusp of basketball season. Jessica bought me a chocolate chip muffin as thanks for texting her a picture of our Marine Botany homework this morning. Ah, the sweet taste of academic dishonesty.

I was relieved—more than I would have liked to admit—that all five Lees were at their usual lunch table, looking worn and tired but normal enough. Ben was hiding behind a pair of sunglasses and his black U Chicago hoodie that Joe and I had bought for him last weekend, sipping steaming tea out of a mug that he gripped with both hands. Scarlett flipped moodily through an astrophysics textbook. Rami repeatedly tapped the tabletop with a pen while Lucy knitted a lavender sweater, never raising her eyes from the jumble of yarn in her lap. They all murmured to each other in low, furtive voices, their mouths barely moving. Joe gave me a wave and a drawn smile; but only after I waved first.

Angela was now scolding Jessica for her lack of moral integrity.

Jess rolled her eyes, gnawing on a chicken finger that was burned black around the edges. “I’m here ostensibly to become an anthropologist and in actuality to find a hot rich husband, not to learn how to identify like sixty different types of algae.”

“Then why even take Marine Botany?” Angela asked, confounded.

“Calawah University forces every student to take at least two science classes, even if you’re a humanities major. Because they’re fucking fascists.”

“Oh, fascists, a big word for you!” I congratulated Jessica, patting her shoulder before returning my attention to my homemade veggie quesadilla and leftover slice of Mercy’s hummingbird cake. I was getting so good at this eating respectable meals thing. Joe would be proud.

Angela chuckled. “How’s that finding a husband thing going, by the way?”

“Awfully,” Jessica sighed. “I had this really promising flirtationship going with a frat boy in my Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic class. Ellsworth Jonathan Griffin, gorgeous blue eyes, blond man bun, his dad is a partner at a corporate law firm in Los Angeles. That’s the stuff dreams are made of. But I’m pretty sure he dropped out because I haven’t seen him in a few days. Also he would bring Absolut vodka to class in an Aquafina bottle.”

“You can probably do better,” I said.

“Well we can’t all end up with Lee boys, now can we?” Jess snapped irritably.

When it was time to depart for our afternoon classes, I met Joe in the doorway of Forks And Spoons, linked my fingers around the back of his neck, tugged at his dark, auburn-tinted hair.

“You okay, mob guy? You seem a little...” Exhausted? Edgy? Sad? “...Distracted.”

“I’m good. I’m great.” He kissed me briefly, fleetingly. No big deal; after all, we were in public. Right? “Are you cool to hang out later?”

“Absolutely. Can we go to La Push if it stops raining? I know it’ll be cold, but I woke up with the beach on my mind and haven’t been able get it out all day.”

“You got it. Can I meet you there? I have to take care of a few things first. Have to, uh, hunt.”

I stared up at him, feeling my stomach drop, feeling rapidly and jarringly off-kilter. Joe rarely mentioned hunting around me...not in a serious way, at least. It was one of those things that knocked me out of the fantasy of how compatible we were, how possible. It was a reminder of all those interminable differences that lived in the hushed space between us. “Okay.”

“I’ll...I’ll explain everything then. At La Push.”

“Okay,” I said again, very uncleverly. What’s going on here? What exactly did Cato say?

Joe smirked; finally a flash of playfulness, that contagious light he was built of. He smoothed my hair with one feather-light stroke of his hand, touched his lips to my forehead. “Don’t be late to Chemistry. I can’t have you failing out.”

“Of course not. How would I be able to get my Marine Biology PhD from U Chicago?”

But Joe didn’t laugh, didn’t even smile; he just left.

Ben was hunched over our table in Professor Belvin’s classroom, his arms encircling his notebook, the pen in his hand scribbling frenziedly. The window was wide open; the rain outside had weakened to a docile drizzle. He was still wearing his sunglasses. He didn’t acknowledge me at all.

“Rough night?” I asked, sliding into the seat beside him.

“Yeah.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“I definitely do not.”

“I’m sorry,” I told him. Ben glanced up, his thick eyebrows raised; they peaked just above the rims of his opaque sunglasses. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry.”

For a long time, Ben just looked at me; maybe wanting to say something, maybe just feeling that decorum necessitated it. “You shouldn’t be,” he replied at last. And he spent the rest of class paying no attention whatsoever to Professor Belvin’s lecture on the Pauli exclusion principle and instead scrawling untidy Welsh phrases into the formerly pristine pages of his notebook.

It was just after 5 p.m. when I arrived at La Push, the tires of my 1999 Honda Accord crunching over the gravel of the small parking area, the wind whipping ferociously. Joe had gotten there first; he was sitting on a rock down by the water with his back to me, peering out over the Pacific Ocean, tossing pebbles and shells into the waves. We had an hour of daylight left. The sky was obscure, grey, dim. Fine droplets of rain like mist sailed through the biting autumn air and clung to my skin.

When Joe spotted me, he leapt off the rock and watched me approach with his hands in the pockets of his North Face jacket. He wasn’t wearing anything Chicago-related today, which was highly unusual. I waited for him to touch me, to hold me, to tell me that everything was okay and always would be...at least for the next ten to fifteen years. He didn’t. “Hey,” he said instead.

“Hi.”

Joe nodded down the beach. “Let’s walk.”

I have never been especially good at mundane, monotonous rambling. That’s a Scorpio thing. And yet monotonous rambling is exactly what I did: I prattled on about my classes, Charlie’s bowling league, Renee’s new life in Florida with Paul, the ocean, the weather, anything to fill that space between us that all at once felt so enormously significant. I was vaguely aware that I was afraid to stop talking; I didn’t want Joe to have the chance to say whatever was on his mind.

Finally, Joe stopped walking. He took my hand, ran his thumb over the faint scar from when I accidentally cut myself in Mercy’s kitchen. His shoes sank into the wet sand, left imprints there like fingerprints. He turned to face me, pained, grave, and oh god, far worse: guilty.

“What?” I asked, terror swelling in my lungs, my bones, some inborn warning of impending ruin.

Joe gazed out over the crashing sea, then came back to me, like a dislocated joint popping back into place. “I am so sorry.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I...” He spoke slowly, haltingly. “I thought that this was something that was doable. But I was wrong.”

“What...?” And then a possibility occurred to me, a glorious possibility. Of course. A grin erupted across my face. “This is a joke, right? You’re joking, you’re always joking, this is just—”

He shook his head. He wasn’t joking. I wrenched my hand out of his and stared up at him in furious disbelief.

“It’s not fair to you,” Joe said. “This thing, being with someone like me. I can’t give you a future. I can’t give you an uncomplicated existence. I mean, come on, you have to worry about getting murdered around my own family—”

“Do you have fucking amnesia?” I demanded, incredulous. “Joe, we just talked about this. We just made plans to move to Chicago after graduation, we agreed that it was what we both wanted. I don’t want a normal human boyfriend. I don’t want normal human in-laws. I want you, Joe, and Ben, and Mercy and Gwil, and Rami and Lucy and Scarlett, I want the whole ridiculous Lee family package and there’s nothing you could say to make me decide that this isn’t worth it.”

“Look—”

“No, something happened, right? Something happened with Cato, or Ben, or someone, something happened and now you think that you have to do this but I’m telling you that whatever it is we can figure it out, we can figure it out together, isn’t that what you promised me?” He said he wouldn’t leave. He promised me he wouldn’t leave. All those things...all those things he said...

“Listen.” And now his eyes were stony. He didn’t call me Baby Swan. Oh, this is bad. This is so bad. “It’s not fair to me either.”

“And that’s what this is really about,” I realized. My voice was abruptly fierce, caustic. All those other women; those beautiful, graceful, immortal women. How did I ever think I could compare?

“It’s not personal.”

“It’s the most personal thing there is, Joe, it’s pasts and futures and love—”

“It’s not though.” He smiled, just barely. “Maybe we thought it was, but it’s not.”

It hit me like a brick, like a bullet; I couldn’t catch my breath. I was drowning in thin air, like a sawfish, like a shark. “Well I’m glad you figured that out on your own fucking schedule.”

“This was my fault,” he said. “All of it. And I am so profoundly sorry for the pain I’ve caused you, and I take full responsibility for it. I hope you’re able to move on knowing that there’s nothing you could have done differently. These are just the realities of my world. You’re better off in your own. And you’re going to make someone very happy someday.”

It's all so empty, so excruciatingly generic. “You’re a monster,” I seethed at him, tears stinging in my eyes.

“Yes,” Joe agreed softly.

“I hate you.” I wasn’t sure if I meant that, but I still said it. Maybe I could will it into being true, like how people find God after a particularly grim diagnosis; there’s no harm in trying to make it real. There’s nothing left to lose.

“That would be more than fair, given the circumstances,” he said. “I won’t bother you again. I’ll ask you to do the same for me.”

“Sure.” Tears were streaming down my cheeks now; my breaths were ragged, hitching. I need to get out of here. I need to get away from him.

A shadow of concern crossed his face, the first one I had noticed since yesterday afternoon. “If you need someone to drive you home, I’d be happy to—”

“I’d literally rather die.” And I left Joseph Francis Mazzello standing on the beach with the twilight wind in his hair and the sun setting behind him like time slipping through an hourglass.

I fled to my Honda, turned the keys in the ignition, covered my face with my hands and wept in raw, heaving shudders as Hungry Like The Wolf played from the mixtape that Joe had left in my cassette player. I ejected the mixtape, rolled down my window, tossed it out onto the rain-slick gravel. I couldn’t stand the thought of going home. Charlie would be at work until late tonight; Joe would never set foot in the house again.

I have to go somewhere. I can’t just sit in that goddamn bedroom. I can’t be alone.

I wheeled my car onto the main road and drove until I came to an unceremonious mechanic’s garage with a fractured concrete floor and cracks like spider legs across the windows. When I stepped out of my Honda, Archer raced over to meet me, beaming and wiping his hands clean with an oil rag.

“Hey, you know you’re not allowed to come here unless you bring Taco Bell with you...” Then he saw me, he really saw me. “Whoa, what—?”

And Archer caught me as I collapsed into his arms, sobs ripping through my throat like fangs.

Benjamin, 24 Hours Earlier

It was bad. Whatever this was, it was bad.

I knew because Rami could read Cato, and I could read Rami; the hazy wisps of color that unfurled from him were a hectic, wrestling electric blue: distress, grief, anxiety, denial. Cato’s own aura had always been rather unforthcoming—he tended towards deep, mellow greens and purples of congruence and contemplation—and forever tinted with an opalescent quality that spread like wildfire to the people around him, the people who were under his influence, that intangible calming and harmonizing effect, that irrational sense of wellbeing. Everyone in the room had that faint opalescence shimmering around them now, even Rami, whose unspoken turmoil remained a roiling rather than a storm. And I thought—not for the first time—that if Larkin was a spade that hollowed you out, scraped along the jagged snags of your split bones to empty you of any ambitions and loyalties that had come before, then Cato was the anesthetic that made the mangling go down smoother, the promise that you would someday still catch glimpses of innocence. Larkin was a purger, a purifier; Cato made you believe again.

There were pitchers of sweet tea and a heaping tray of butter pecan cookies on the living room coffee table. Cato sat on the neat white sofa, one leg crossed over the other, stoic, waiting. Rami stared vacantly from the loveseat; Lucy was beside him, her delicate bare feet tucked beneath her and her fingers laced through Rami’s, her brow knit into grooves of worry. Scarlett was next to me on the largest couch, her boots propped up on the edge of the coffee table, her hair in a long French braid, periodically cracking her knuckles. It was nearly the only sound. Mercy bustled around the room gifting everyone tall chilled glasses of sweet tea; Gwil stood by the virtual fireplace on the big-screen tv, his hands in his pockets, his lips pressed into a rigid line.

The front door opened, and Joe stepped inside, his car keys rattling in his fist. For as long as I’d known him, his color had so often been a bright and buttery yellow, his aura more visible and constant than anyone else’s. Lately, he was increasingly cloaked in the rosy pinks of love or the vivid, shifting, crimson reds of lust; and Rami and I bonded over our shared efforts to politely ignore that particular variety of thoughts.

Joe pointed to Cato. “What’s going on?”

“How long?” Cato asked him.

Joe feigned cluelessness. “Huh? What do you mean? Oh, car chick?! That’s nothing. She’s just a friend.”

Cato blinked. “Do you really think I just arrived in Forks today?”

It rolled through Joe like a wave: surrender, apprehension, dread. The realization that Cato had been watching us for days, weeks even, meticulously keeping just enough distance to stay out of Rami’s range of hearing. Joe’s now-opalescent aura dipped from cerise to an agitated mahogany. “Two months.”

“And she’s talented.” Cato’s voice was impatient, incredulous; How could you be this stupid? that voice said.

“No,” Joe flared, like shards of wood cracking in a fire. “No, she’s got nothing to do with you, with us. With our world. She’s got nothing to do with it.”

Cato circled the fingerprint of his index finger around the rim of his misted glass of sweet tea, meditative. “In one hundred and seventy years, I have never met someone who I couldn’t find if I wanted to. And yet the second I turned my back on that girl, she was gone. Vanished. The world was a blank map. How is that possible?”

No one said anything. Finally, Cato looked to Rami.

“You can’t hear her thoughts, can you?”

“No,” Rami admitted.

“And how many times has that happened in...how old are you now, the same as Ben? How many times in the past century have you met someone who made you feel normal, weak even? Who made you feel human again?”

“Never,” Rami conceded.

“You too, right?” Cato asked me. “You can’t see what she’s feeling. She’s nothing but white noise.”

I nodded reluctantly.

“She’s talented,” Cato said again, decisive.

“Oh god,” I choked out, burying my face in my hands. Now I knew what Rami had heard. I knew everything.

Joe shook his head almost violently. “No, that’s not fair. There’s no way of knowing if that would translate to life as a vampire or how it would manifest. There’s no way of knowing if she would survive the transition at all. And none of us are ever going to find out because she has nothing to do with our world.”

“She does,” Cato insisted. “Because you brought her into it.”

Scarlett shivered beside me, crossed her arms over her chest, clutched her leather jacket tighter. “You can’t be serious, Cato. You’re not a monster, you know she might not survive—”

“And that would stop Gwil. It would stop me, sure. When has it ever stopped Larkin?” Cato gestured to me. “With him? With me? With Akari or Araminta or Liesl or Rigel or all the ones who didn’t make it, who died screaming as they scorched from the inside out? It has never stopped him because he doesn’t care. He finds talented people. He covets them, covets them jealously, like jewels or money or lovers. And they either become one of his possessions or they become nothing at all.”

“No,” Joe whispered. “No, no, no...”

Rami was shrinking into the loveseat, overwhelmed by the emotions in the room that were dragging his aura into whirling greys, those desperate and dark thoughts; not even Cato could mute them entirely. Lucy tried to soothe him, laid the back of her fine-boned hand against his cheek. Mercy covered her gaping mouth. Gwil studied the floor, thunderstruck, absorbing it all.

“This is a courtesy that I’m doing you right now,” Cato told Joe, his large palms clasped together, his voice sorrowful and yet unyielding, almost pleading. “This is a warning. If he finds out about her, about what she can do...he’s going to want her. And he gets everything he wants.”

“He can’t find out,” Gwil said hoarsely.

“No,” I agreed. Death or a hundred-year sentence. Either way, a part of you dies. Either way, a part of you ends up in a box six feet underground and clawing for the sun.

“What can we do?” Scarlett asked Cato. “I mean...is there anything we can do?”

“You have to get rid of her. That’s her only chance. Get her out of your orbit, away from our world, away from where Larkin or anyone who serves him would ever cross her path. I won’t tell him about the girl. I’ll try to deflect his attention. If she’s already been spotted, I’ll tell him that she’s useless, just another one of Joe’s litany of casual liaisons. And that’s a risk I’ll take, I’ll do it out of respect for your coven, Dr. Lee, and for Ben. But there is absolutely nothing I can do for you if Larkin finds out for himself. I don’t think I’m the only one he has watching you.”

“Of course not,” I said bitterly. “I’m sure he has all sorts of eyes on me. The white whale. The one that got away.” This is my fault. It’s all my fucking fault.

“It’s not,” Rami murmured; and nobody else heard my side of it, but I think they understood.

Joe’s aura was now murky, sunless, almost black. It was a color I hadn’t thought he was capable of. His eyes were slick and bleary.

“Son?” Gwil prompted. Mercy was sobbing into a handkerchief patterned with roses. Mom, I ached instinctively, before pushing the thought away.

“I won’t do it,” Joe said. “You’re asking me to break her heart and I won’t do it.”

I begged: “Joe, you don’t understand—”

“No, you don’t understand! You don’t understand what this will do to her, what it’s going to do to her for the weeks and months and years that come after, she might never forget—”

“Do you want her to end up dead or in a hundred-year contract?” Cato shot back. “Do you want to see how much of that girl you care about so much is left after a century with Larkin?”

Everyone’s eyes fell on me. I could feel them, full of pity and horror. I’m what’s left. Someone gutted of everything but rage and bloodlust.

“No, of course not,” Joe said. Thanks a lot, brother.

Cato smirked without any humor at all. He had known. “Then the choice is easy.”

“Son,” Gwil said again.

Joe gazed back at him with huge, agonized eyes. His words were brittle, raspy, hollow. “Dad, I love her.”

“I know,” Gwil replied. His aura was a blue like cobalt: profound sympathy, compassion, mourning. “And that’s why you’ll do the right thing.”

Twenty minutes later, I was puffing on my vape pen as I paced back and forth across the wrap-around porch like a caged bear, watching the sun disappear behind the western hemlock trees that raked the clouds. Gwil, Rami, Lucy, and Scarlett were with Joe; Mercy was trying to convince Cato to stay the night in one of the guest bedrooms. I could hear her ludicrously gracious protestations through the walls. “We know it’s not your fault, dear, this...this...situation. We know you’re just the messenger. And you’ve been so important to Ben all these years, so kind. It’s really no trouble at all...here, let me at least wrap up some cake for you to take...”

The front door opened and closed. Scarlett appeared beside me, resting her forearms on the porch railing. She sighed, closed her eyes, said nothing.

“This is going to destroy him,” I told her.

Scarlett nodded, her face bathed in silvery moonlight, marvelous and yet forlorn. The aura that surrounded her was a deep, despondent indigo. It matched the sky. “Yeah.”

“And to think...” I exhaled heavily, nicotine-tinged vapor vanishing into the damp night air. Rain was coming; I could feel it in my bones. “I was just beginning to like it here.”

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