#it's a very old and worn blanket though. like it is falling apart slightly in SO many places.

[sassyhobbits]

“Choke me.” “...Are you into that?” “No, I just wanna get knocked out for like... an hour or two.”

For rowaelin please 😁

this one was fun. i hope you all enjoy!!

~~~

Rowan was engrossed in the beat-up mystery novel he had been working through that week, sprawled out on his bed and reading by the light on his bedside table. It was late, and he knew he should probably be asleep, but he could feel he was about to get to the good part.

He knew he was only a few paragraphs away from the twist when a polite knock sounded from his window.

He glanced to his right, immediately recognizing the figure perched on his fire escape, despite the dim lighting.

Aelin Galathynius gave a small smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. He quickly noted that she wore a large sweatshirt, but her legs were bare. She was likely freezing out there, though the trip from her apartment one floor up wasn’t long.

Rowan set his book down on his bedside table, quickly reaching the window and opening it. “You’ll freeze to death out there.”

“So you’ve said before,” Aelin sighed, crawling into Rowan’s room and the warmth it provided.

He simply shook his head at her as she plopped down on the right side of the bed, making herself comfortable. As she always did.

Rowan had known Aelin since they were young. Though they had relished in antagonizing one another in their youths, as they matured, they realized they made better friends than enemies. And, in recent years, Rowan learned that what he felt for Aelin Galathynius was more than what a friend felt for another friend.

But he would never act on it and jeopardize the relationship he had with her now.

Rowan locked the window again, glancing down at Aelin as he took the other side of the bed. Her face was pinched, brows knitting together slightly. He noted the dark circles under her eyes, pointing to a sort of fatigue.

As if she felt his gaze, Aelin opened her eyes. As usual, that stunning turquoise and gold stole his breath away.

Aelin tilted her chin up slightly. Rowan expected her to say something sarcastic or witty, but instead she said, “Choke me.”

Rowan sputtered. That was certainly not what he had been expecting. “I- I… are you into that?”

She released a small laugh at his discomfort, but it lacked the mirth he was used to hearing. “No. I just wanna get knocked out for like… an hour or two.” The smile that had been on her face faded away. “I haven’t slept very well the last two nights.”

Rowan almost asked what was wrong, but it didn’t take him long to remember. Every year for the past five years, this week had been difficult for Aelin. She kept to herself, stayed away from social events she normally loved, was quiet when she was normally outspoken.

She didn’t like to talk about it, but Rowan knew anyway.

It was almost the anniversary of her parents’ deaths.

Rowan knew that if she wanted to talk about it, she would. But, judging by the look on her face, she wasn’t looking for a therapy session. She likely just wanted to be distracted from her own thoughts.

“Have you considered melatonin?” he asked with a teasing smile. “It would probably be easier.”

She laughed. “Oh, Rowan. When do I ever take the easy way out?”

For a moment, neither of them said anything, simply looking at one another. Having Aelin this close to him, being able to smell her flowery perfume, was intoxicating. He wanted to reach out, to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear or run the tips of his fingers down the curve of her cheek. But, before he could do something foolish like that, Aelin rolled over and stood, going over to the small bookshelf Rowan kept nestled in the corner of his room.

Aelin’s own bookshelf took over an entire wall in her living room. Rowan knew she liked to hoard her books, even if she didn’t love them. He, on the other hand, only liked to keep around his most favorite works.

She plucked one out before returning to her side on the bed.

“Read to me?”

“I was reading my own book,” Rowan said, gesturing towards the novel he had placed on the bedside table.

Aelin glanced at it, noting how far he made it in the book, and frowned. “But I won’t understand anything that’s happening in that one. You’re nearly finished.”

Rowan sighed and looked down at the volume Aelin held in her hands. It was one of the oldest books in his collection, one he had owned since he was a child. A well-worn copy of The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. His mother had read it to him before he had learned how to read himself. And, he knew, Aelin’s mother had done the same when she was young. Even when they were getting in playground brawls everyday in their youth, they had recognized and respected that they both shared a love for the story.

They were both far too old for children's’ stories, but tonight he could see she needed to indulge in the comfort it brought.

Rowan sighed once more, pretending as if the decision was inconvenient when, in fact, he would do anything for her. He held out his hand, taking the book from Aelin and seeing her tired face light in a smile.

As he cracked open the book to the first page, he felt Aelin rest her head on his shoulder, still allowing her to look at the page and some of the illustrations that decorated them. Rowan glanced at her one last time before diverting his attention fully to the book before him, and began to read.

“Once there were four children…”

…

Rowan hadn’t been reading for very long when he noticed that Aelin had been uncharacteristically quiet. He let his voice fade away, looking down at the woman resting her head on his shoulder. Aelin’s eyes were shut, lips parted, chest rising and falling in a deep, steady rhythm. She was asleep.

Carefully, as not to rouse her from the sleep she so desperately needed, Rowan shifted her until she was laying down properly, head propped up on his pillows. He grabbed the blanket from the foot of the bed, tugging it up so it draped over her body.

This time, Rowan didn’t stop himself from reaching out and brushing her golden hair out of her peaceful face.

Rowan turned off the lamp on his bedside table, dousing the room in darkness, before settling into bed himself.

From beside him, Aelin groaned. He cursed himself for disturbing her.

“Ro?” she rasped, eyes only barely cracking opening. Her hand reached out and grabbed his, as if to ensure herself that he was truly there in the darkness. “You’re staying, right?”

“Of course, Fireheart,” Rowan murmured softly before leaning forward and pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead. “Go back to sleep.”

She hummed her agreement, eyes fluttering shut and scooting a bit closer. It didn’t take much longer for her breathing to even out again, and she was asleep once more. Still holding his hand.

Soon enough, Rowan had followed her into slumber. He didn’t know until the morning came around that he had held her hand for the entirety of the night.

[samuel-de-champagne-problems]

I Can't Help It If You Look Like an Angel

Summary: Spencer is not that kind of doctor, but he'll always come when Y/N needs him, even if germs are involved.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem Reader

Warnings: One cuss (sh!t), kisses, small insecurities

Word Count: 2.5 k (was not supposed to be this long but I'm a monster)

Author's Note: From this list (3, 12, 14) since I hit 300 followers! Thank you! This request is from @willowrose99 (look for the bold)

I Can't Help It If You Look Like an Angel

Spencer’s half done with his third book that weekend when his phone rang. A weekend spent in the company of Nietzsche and Sartre is, according to Spencer at least, a weekend well spent. He can feel the relaxation that settles in his bones come crashing down as he phone rings.

Thinking it’s Hotch calling the team in for an unexpected case, Spencer, lethargically, walks over to answer the phone. However, realizing the caller is not his boss pulling him away from a restful weekend, but Y/N, his heart rushes with a sudden urge of excitement.

“Y/N,” Spencer starts. He’s more than happy to have Y/N interrupt his weekend; they even made plans for a day out on Saturday at the new Anthropology museum that opened downtown. But all of Spencer’s made up plans fall in front of his face, as he hears Y/N’s quiet sniffles.

“Spencer, I’m so sorry to bother you. I know that you’re probably enjoying your rest, but I guess I have a cold. One of the kids at school, I suppose,” Y/N tells him in between sniffles. Her voice is scratchy and Spencer tries not to think about how his brain seems to short circuit at the way his name sounds.

“I’m coming over,” Spencer says, cutting her off. He doesn’t like doing that, in fact he hates when that happens to him, but right now he knows that Y/N is going to try her hardest to stop him from coming over.

“No Spence, it’s germs. You hate germs and I’m really gross and snotty and—”

“Stop, Y/N. Don’t say another word. I’m on my way” Spencer says. He feels a little guilty for hanging up on her, but he knows that if he stayed on the line any longer she’d end up convincing him that he didn’t need to rush over. There’s not a lot of people in this world that can convince Spencer to change his mind, and he’s pretty sure that Y/N is one of them.

Spencer walks into his bedroom, looking for some supplies like a man on a mission. He decides to pack a small bag for the next three days. He’s off from work anyway, why not spend that time making sure Y/N gets better. Spencer packs away a couple of sweaters, flannel pajama pants and two thermal shirts. In the back of his drawer he spots a very old college tee shirt.

A memory, an early memory with Y/N, comes flooding to the surface. They got caught in a rainstorm after a picnic in the nearby park. Spencer changed into his comfortable tee shirt and pajamas. He would never forget the look on Y/N’s face; the way the rain collected on her glasses and for some reason she had yet to wipe them off. She called him an angel. Maybe it’s for bringing her some warm clothes or maybe she’s slightly on edge from their dash into Spencer’s apartment. Whatever it was that made her call him an angel, Spencer never wanted her to call him anything else. Besides his own name, in that scratchy sick voice that made him feel a little guilty for liking so much.

Spencer collects some other things he needs for his stay. A toothbrush, toothpaste, a hair brush, and his hair serum that Y/N says she likes the way it smells. When she told him that, Spencer could hardly wait to buy the entire supply from the CVS down the street. He tucks away in this bag with a small smile.

Walking out of his apartment, Spencer locks up and makes his way down to his car. He glances at his watch, realizing that it only took him a couple of minutes to get ready for Y/N. Quicker than what it takes for him to get ready for an emergency case. Then again, tending to a sick Y/N seems much pleasurable then looking at served bodies and mangled limbs.

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

After making a pit stop at a small convenience store near Y/N’s apartment, Spencer pulls into the guest parking spot near her complex. He attempts to shoulder the weight of his go bag; even though he only packed a couple philosophy books, they are quite dense. In his hands, he grasps the grocery bags.

Y/N’s apartment, thankfully, is on the first floor. Spencer approaches the door and thinks twice about knocking or ringing the doorbell. The last thing he wants to do is wake a sick Y/N up. He rummages in his pants for his car keys. Attached to the keys is a cat keychain with a spare key to Y/N’s apartment. Balancing the groceries and his own bag, Spencer quietly attempts to open Y/N’s door without possibly waking her up.

Once he finally gets the door open, Spencer realizes all too late that a large orange cat guards the tight hallway entrance. Spencer Reid, though a genius in his own right, is completely aware of the fact that he has two left feet.

“Oh, Zelda! Oh shit!,” Spencer yells as he trips over Zelda, Y/N’s orange cat. Zelda, scared from the noise, leaps from her spot guarding the hallway to the kitchen. Spencer brushes himself from his fall and picks up the groceries that fell during his tumble.

“Zelda, baby?” Y/N calls from what sounds like the couch from the other side of the wall.

“Hi Y/N, it’s just me. It’s just Spencer,” He says, placing the oranges back in his canvas bag and on the kitchen table. He sees Y/N laying on the couch. Surrounded by a pile of crumpled tissues, she smiles weakly at Spencer. He walks over to her and like an involuntary muscle, she scoots her feet so Spencer has room to sit.

Spencer, setting the beg on the floor, tucks Y/N’s legs over his. He rests a comforting hand on her calf that’s covered by a worn quilt.

“You didn’t have to come Spencer. I’m really okay, I just wanted you to know that I wasn’t ghosting you this weekend,” Y/N explains. The TV has been left on, but on mute. The colorful lights illuminate Y/N’s face in her dimly lit apartment.

“Nonsense, Y/N. What are friends for,” Spencer offers, wondering beyond belief if he messed up calling them friends. Their relationship had been quite strange for the past couple of weeks. Intense moments of silence where Spencer thinks he’d have the time to memorize every freckle on her nose or small grazes from fingers to wrists where Spencer swears she left scars that he hope would never heal.

“Friends,” Y/N says quietly. Spencer, offering a tight lipped smile, leans forward to straighten the blankets under Y/N’s chin. He presses the back of his hand towards Y/N’s forehead, feeling her warm skin under his knuckles. He’s not sure if the heat he feels is from her bug or from the adrenaline coursing through his veins at being this close to Y/N.

“You’re hot,” Spencer says, not moving his hand from Y/N’s forehead. She, loving the way his ears turn pink when he’s embarrassed, uncovers her arm from under the blankets and holds onto his wrist, keeping him attached to her forehead. Not that he’d want it any other way.

“So are you,” Y/N says. Spencer flinches and moves his hand from her forehead like she scorched his hand. In reality, her comment pierced his heart with hope.

“How much cough syrup did you take?” Spencer asks, choosing to face the situation with humor. There’s no way in the world Y/N could ever find him “hot” without the aid of cough syrup or another mind numbing substance.

“None,” Y/N says, reaching around to turn off the television. Spencer, getting increasingly nervous as the minutes of that intense silence passed, mentions to Y/N that he needs to put the groceries away.

“You really didn’t need to do that, Spence. I feel bad enough that you came here just to get sick yourself,” Y/N says. She’s folding the blankets that she was just resting under.

“I’ll always come when you need me to, Y/N” Spencer says, his breath catching and his eyes latching onto Y/N. He looks at her too long and there’s that intense silence again. Silence that is as thick as fog. Spencer can’t see facts through all the love that swallows him whole looking at Y/N.

“Maybe I knew that, and maybe that’s why I called you,” Y/N murmurs quietly, almost like she’s more scared to admit it to herself than to Spencer.

“Maybe,” Spencer says, breaking her gaze to put the half melted tub of green tea ice cream in the freezer.

“I think I’m going to shower, I need to put a fresh pair of pajamas on. I’ll be right out,” Y/N tells him, turning on her heel and leaving Spencer along with his thoughts.

Spencer can hear the water from the shower turn on. He estimates that Y/N will take at least 5 minutes in the shower, accounting for a margin of error, he supposes that he should start to heat the soup he bought from the store now, so it’s ready for Y/N when she’s done in the shower. Too bad all Spencer’s brain power is good for his statistics and numbers, not recipes and romance.

As it turns out, not a single statistic, nor a single digit could account for the possibility of Y/N walking out her bedroom, her hair damp and skin practically glowing, wearing Spencer’s worn college tee shirt. Spencer reckons that his eyes must have been bugging out from his head, given the spirited smile Y/N wears.

“I’m sorry, Spence, you know how much I love this tee shirt. I was putting some of your stuff away in your drawer and I saw this and I just couldn’t help myself. God it even smells a little bit like that hair gunk you wear,” Y/N rambles. She stands, leaning on her door frame, staring at Spencer who holds a wooden spoon that he used to stir the soup.

“You look like an angel,” Spencer says before he can stop himself. He just knows that his face is flaming red.

“You remember that?” Y/N asks, her voice light and hopeful. Spencer recognizes something in it. It’s the way his voice sounds when he talks to her, about her, with her. He can only hope that this is the way she always talks to him. He hopes with every fiber of his being that she uses that light and hopeful voice with him and only him.

“Of course Y/N. Then again, even if I didn’t have an eidetic memory, I’d still remember every single detail about you,”

“Now you’re making me feel guilty about stealing your shirt. You’re being all sweet and kind with me, it makes me fuzzy in the head,” Y/N confesses. She walks to her kitchen table, slowly closing the gap between her and Spencer.

“Keep it, it looks better on you anyway,” Spencer tells her. Her eyes grow big at his words and she presses her lips together like she’s holding something in. But something in her switches. Something in her grows a little sad and Spencer watches before his eyes as Y/N withdraws into herself.

“You can’t say that stuff to me, Spencer. You can’t say that stuff to me and not expect me to love you more than I already do,” Y/N says, her eyes shut and her lips pinched so tightly that it almost looks painful.

“Y/N,” Spencer starts, unsure what he’s supposed to say. His brain always seems to be playing catch up around Y/N. “Can I say it if I do love you back?”

Y/N eyes flutter open and narrow at Spencer, as if she’s reading him. Her eyes scan for any sign of a joke, of a prank, of Spencer trying to trick her. Maybe he should be upset that Y/N is doubting him, but all Spencer can feel is hatred for the person that made her doubt herself so much to not believe him.

“I’ve never felt what I feel when I’m with you, Y/N. No one else has made me feel truly me except you, Y/N,” Spencer professes, setting down the wooden spoon on the counter to reach Y/N’s hand.

“I never thought you’d feel the same way, Spence. I love you, God. That feels so good to say,” Y/N says, letting out a strained laugh. Spencer standing up next to her, places his hands on Y/N cheeks, and tries to lean in lower to kiss her, but Y/N’s finger on his lips stops his movement.

“I’m so sorry, I should have asked. I thought that this is-” Spencer stammers, suddenly very concerned that he violated Y/N in some way.

“Shhh, angel. It’s okay. I want you to kiss me. I really do, but I just want you to tell the facts on you getting sick if you kiss me,” Y/N says, not moving her finger from Spencer’s soft lips. He kisses her finger and grasps her hand with his.

“Sorry, I just had to do that,” Spencer smirks, “but to answer your question, unless you have a bad cough, and some of the respiratory mucus has made its way into your saliva, the cold virus will not be transmitted by kissing,”

“That’s good, so please kiss me, Spencer,” Y/N practically begs, eager for Spencer to leave pieces of him all over her. Eager for him to leave physical evidence of the marking he’s already left on her heart.

���You just might have to take care of me next week,” Spencer counters, peppering kisses over her jaw, knowing he’s purposely avoiding her lips.

“Spencer, I’m sick! Don’t tease me, just kiss me,” Y/N whines, and Spencer caves. He leans in slowly, meeting his lips to Y/N’s. It was the kiss that Spencer knew he’d be waiting for. A kiss that seals fate without a return address. A kiss that reminds him that he’s alive. A kiss that says forever and always.

Spencer, resting his chin against Y/N’s head, closes his eyes. The intense silence that existed between them, now is this light and hopeful air.

“Y/N, do you use my hair gunk?” Spencer asks. He can’t help but giggle with her and breathe in the familiar scent of her hair. He places three kisses on Y/N’s head and gently pushes her hair to the side to kiss down the back of her neck.

“I’m not sure what I love more, the smell of your hair gunk or the man that wears it,”

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

TAGLIST (Comment to be added or send in an ask)

@shemarmooresfedora

@willowrose99

@calm-and-doctor

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

Requests from this posts are being filled since I hit 300 followers, so send in up to 3 numbers!

Tell me what you thought!

[atlafan]

Office Neighbors - Part One

a/n: OKAY! this is my new love, professor!Harry x professor!Y/N. This is a slow burn, so buckle up because it’s going to be a longgggg ride. enjoy! (also reblogs/feedback is super helpful) not proofread

warnings:none yet...I suppose some fluff? slight angst?? 

words: 20K

masterpost

You were all cozied up in bed, in a cocoon of blankets. Even though it was August, your apartment had central air, and it was glorious. You loved nothing more than practically sleeping in a burrito of blankets year round. It was a new place to go along with your new job.

Y/F/N Y/L/N, Adjunct Professor, Communication Department: that was your new title. You had your master’s degree, and now you could finally move on to get your PhD. Your specialization was social media and the like, but you also had background in rhetoric and film. The few faculty that served on your search committee were quite impressed with the research you had already started conducting. Your main research was about the pros and cons of anonymity online. The school was a perfect fit. You would be teaching a couple of the intro courses for the major, and some special topics courses.

Today was faculty orientation. You would be given yet another tour of the university, go through some technology workshops, and be shown to your office. You were excited because you hadn’t been able to meet all of your faculty yet, and you’d be going to your first faculty meeting towards the end of the day.

You check your phone and see that it’s going to be in the mid 80’s today. You sigh and get up to start your morning routine. Once your face is washed and your teeth are brushed, you rummage through your closet to see what would be the most appropriate thing to wear. A flowy dress, in theory, would be a good idea, but the idea of sweating between your legs didn’t sound all that great. You settle on a pair of emerald green shorts that fall just above your knee, perfectly appropriate length for school. Plus, they were just a cute pair of shorts in general. You pair it with a white short-sleeve blouse, and tuck it into the shorts to show the shape of your body. Next, you needed to tackle your hair. You could leave it down, but sweat and humidity were not your friends. You had gotten into the habit of parting your hair down the middle more, you were twenty-six now it was okay to go with your natural part. You thought it made you look more adult, whatever that meant. So, you part it, and pull up each side to make pig tails, then you create a bun on each side. You looked professional, but fun. Just the vibe you were going for. You only apply a little makeup, in fear of it melting off of you. You slip on a pair of white tennis shoes for comfort, gather your laptop and other things, and head out.

Rolling through Dunkin Donuts, you treat yourself with a vanilla late instead of your usual, it was your first day after all. You’re not feeling too hungry yet, so you don’t get anything to eat. A college habit that just hasn’t died yet: barely eating anything until the late afternoon. You park at the building where your last meeting of the day will be, always thinking ahead. You sip on your coffee and enjoy your stroll across the beautiful campus to your first meeting of the day. There were a few people in the classroom, and you shyly smile and wave as you take a seat.

Policies and procedures are talked about after everyone in the cohort introduces themselves. You notice that you’re the only CM hire, there were three math hires, two for history, one for CS, two for art, and two for CJ. Some seemed to be around your age, and other seemed older. Everyone was friendly enough. You observed everyone’s posture and body language. You couldn’t help it, you were practically trained to read rooms and people.

The campus tour isn’t anything new. This was about the fifth time you had been walked around by some students to show you where things were, but it was nice to get outside for a good walk. You’re given a break for lunch, and you opt to eat outside at one of the open picnic benches. You notice that most people wanted to eat alone. It was a lot of social time, you yourself didn’t mind the break from talking and sharing.

After lunch are the technology workshops, making sure your account was set up and that you knew how to edit your courses in moodle. It wasn’t terribly difficult, but it was something everyone had to do. Luckily, as a first year professor, you wouldn’t be given any advisees. That you were thankful for. You had taught before, of course, and you loved helping students, but you wanted to make sure you had a good handle on the curriculum before telling students what they should be taking for courses.

Around 3PM a student comes to show you to your academic building, and escort you to your new office before your faculty meeting. There’s a bit of chit chat between the two of you before they open the door to the overly hot building. You cough when you first enter from the humidity.

“Don’t worry, it’s only like this for the first couple of weeks.” She says and you nod.

She guides you straight in where the communication lounge was. Wow, an entire lounge, you think to yourself. There were a few couches and three offices on the main level. A flat screen TV projecting student projects across from one of the couches. She takes you down a spiral staircase where there were four other offices, one vacant for you. There were two computer clusters, a projects and screen, and more couches. You already liked that it seemed to be an interactive space for students.

“Looks like you got the one with the window.” She smiles. “Have a nice day.”

“Thank you so much.” You beam at the student that you’ll probably never see again.

The door was open for you, and two sets of keys were sitting on your desk. The office was bare just waiting for your interior design ideas to be splashed all over it. Your desk was L-shaped with two monitors and a laptop plugged into a docking station. At least you didn’t have to wait to be given your school sanctioned computer. You smile when you see that you were given a Mac as requested. You look at your one window and take a picture so you could find curtains for it. You open and close all of drawers just to make sure there was nothing left behind inside the desk. There were two seats on the other side of the desk for what you would assume would be for student meetings. You could get better ones. You also definitely had room for a small couch, a love seat perhaps.

“Well, look at that, I finally got a new neighbor.”

You jump slightly and turn around. There were a couple of reasons that you were slightly started. Whoever it was that was speaking to you had a deep, gravel-like voice, and they had a British accent. Not totally uncommon at a university, but still something you weren’t expecting. You were also started because no one else was downstairs with you. As you turn around, your cheeks flush when you take in the man with the toothy smile before you.

He was wearing a loose pair of jeans with a couple of rips in them, beaten up white sneakers with different color laces, and a light blue t-shirt. You barely have time to take in his tattoos, or the thick rim of his glasses before he speaks again.

“I’m so sorry, did I startle you?”

“Only slightly.” You give him a half smile. “I’m Y/N.” She extends her hand out to him and he takes it, shaking it gently.

“I’m Harry.”

“Ah! Dr. Styles, yeah. You were away when all of my interviews were happening.”

“Yes, I was away at a conference, but I heard great things. And please, just call me Harry. We’re not a very formal group.” He smirks.

“So, your office is the one next to mine?”

“That’s right.” He nods towards it, and you step out to look at his door.

Dr. Harry Styles, PhD was on his door along with a paper with his office hours printed on it.

“You’re lucky you got one with a window right away, I’m surprised no one wanted to snatch it up. The two across from us don’t have windows, but maybe some people don’t really care about that. I happen to enjoy looking out the window to see what’s happening when my eyes need a rest from the screen.”

You nod your head and peep inside his office. He had put his desk in the back corner of the room. So if students were to come see him, his back would be to them and they could easily see whatever he was doing on the computer, but you notice he also has a corner set up with a few chairs and around coffee table. Perhaps he’s able to discuss things easier this way. Many ideas pop into your head about how you might like to set things up.

“There’s a really great consignment shop downtown with quality furniture for cheap. That’s where I got those that table and chairs.”

“Thanks.” You squint at the three diplomas framed one the wall, and a couple of certifications as well. He had a small shelf with a couple of awards too. “What’s your PhD in?”

“At the base level, Media Studies, but my master’s was in Literary Dynamics. I’m a bit of a book worm as you can see.” He points to the bookshelf full of worn books and you smile. “Got my doctorate here, same as you’re doing, and they offered me a tenure position. Been here about six years total now, I love it.”

You think for a moment to try to put together how old he might be. There was a boyishness to his features, but he also had crinkles around his eyes and a few specs of grey in his hair. Then again, so did you. You greyed early, not that anyone would know since you get highlights in your hair.

“I turn thirty-two in February, if that’s what you were wondering.”

“Oh…I wasn’t, um, I-“

“It’s okay.” He chuckles. “Shall we head up to the faculty meeting? They sent me down here to get you.”

“Yeah, let’s get to it.” You quickly grab your laptop and follow him up the spiral staircase, trying not to look at his butt too much.

He leads you down a hall to a room used for meetings. A large table with people sitting around it casually, a few you recognize from your search committee.

“Y/N!” Lisa, the department chair, exclaims. “Glad Harry found you, come in.” Everyone turns their attention towards you and you smile. You sit down, and Harry goes to sit at the other end of the table. “Right, so let’s go round the table to introduce ourselves to Y/N. Let’s tell her what courses we all teach as well. I’m Lisa, obviously, I teach Game Design and Senior Seminar. I used to teach more, but so it goes when you’re the department chair.”

“Hi, Y/N, I’m Andre, I teach Communication Theory, Digital Media in the New Age, and Journalism.”

“I’m Mateo, good to see you again.” He smiles and you nod. “I teach Tech Comm, Intercultural Communication, and Strategic Communication.”

“I’m Sandra, I teach Global Perspectives in the Media, Film and Video Production Techniques, and basically any other film production courses.” She laughs.

“I’m Harry.” He gives you that same toothy smile. “I teach Communication, Media, and Wellness, Media Effects, Analyzing Screen Media, Literature into Film, and The Craft of Screenwriting.”

“I’m Janette, I teach Philosophy of Communication, Advanced Composition, and Interactive Web Communication.”

“Wonderful, thank you everyone. Don’t worry, Y/N, our admin Lucas will email you all of this info if he hasn’t already.”

“That’s alright, thank you.” She smiles.

“Why don’t you tell everyone what courses you’ll be teaching this fall and spring?”

“Well, this fall I’ll be teaching Communication and Media Studies, Media and Cultural Studies, and Social Media: Technology and Culture. Then in the spring I’ll teach the two intro courses, along with Professional Social Media, and Rhetoric and Semiotics.”

“We’re so happy to have you aboard.” Lisa smiles.

Lisa goes on to explain any policy or curriculum changes. Y/N notices how casual the group is, and also how diverse the group is. It was nice to see.

“Now, I know it’s your first day, and you just moved to the area…feel free to say no, but we’re all headed downtown to the pub for dinner if you’d like to join us.” Lisa says at the end of the meeting.

“That would be great! I haven’t gotten the chance to eat downtown much.”

“Oh, you’ll love the pub.” Sandra says. “Best nachos I’ve ever had.”

You smile and stand with everyone. You notice that everyone just simply walks downtown. You run to your car quickly to drop her bag off, and continues the walk. You all go in and grab a table for seven. You slide into the booth and Harry slides in next to you, followed by Janette and Sandra. Lisa, Mateo, and Andre all sit in the chairs across from you. You weren’t sure if you felt comfortable drinking in front of your colleagues just yet, but you order a vodka-tonic anyways just to be social.

“Sandra’s right, they do have the best nachos here.” Lisa says. “Should we just get a couple of orders of that? We could do one with chicken and one without.”

“I can just pick it off, don’t be silly.” Harry says.

“I, uh , don’t eat meat either, and I can also just pick it off.” You speak up.

“Oh, please.” Lisa scoffs. “We can get one with and one without, no problem.”

“You don’t eat meat?” Harry turns to you slightly.

“Um, no.” He was very close to you, and you weren’t sure how you felt about it. You just met him. You take a sip of your drink so your mouth doesn’t feel so dry. “My doctor told me to cut out red meat, and then I got sick of chicken and stuff, so I just cut it all out.” You shrug.

“Things were sort of the same with me, I just didn’t like how it made me feel after eating it. There’s other ways to get protein. I eat a lot of beans and nuts.”

“Right.” You were curious as to why he was being so open with you.

“Course, I feel like I’m starved half the time, don’t know if that happens to you, but I always keep granola bars in my office if you ever need one.”

“Oh! Um, thank you. Are we allowed to bring mini fridges? I’m really into overnight oats right now, so if I could just leave that stuff in there…”

“We are! It can’t be one of those huge ones though, it’s gotta be one of those ones that looks like a cube.” Harry makes a fake outlines of a box with his fingers. The waitress comes over and takes the orders for the nachos. “Excuse me, love, could I also get a separate order of chicken fingers and fries to go?”

The waitress nods and Harry smiles at her. You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Got someone at home who requested it.” He says before turning his attention to the other conversations at the table.

You wondered whom might me home waiting for him. A wife, a girlfriend…boyfriend? Harry wore a lot of rings, and his nails were painted, but a lot of men were doing that these days so you didn’t want to make any assumptions.

“So, Y/N, where’s home for you?” Andre asks.

“Oh, I’m from Boston originally.”

“Wow! And you moved up here to the mountains. Do you miss the hustle and bustle yet?”

“Not yet, I sort of don’t mind the quiet, although, when I first moved I had trouble falling asleep at night. It was almost too quiet.” You laugh. “But I’ve gotten more used to it. I’m in a great little apartment building, nice neighborhood. I think there are some grad students that I’m neighbors with.”

“Do you going hiking at all?” Mateo asks. “There are some great trails around here.”

“I haven’t gone yet, but I’d certainly be willing to give it a go.”

“We usually all go together before the semester starts.” Lisa says. It surprised you at how close everyone seemed. All different people of different ages. “There’s this really easy mountain about twenty minutes from campus with a beautiful view of the lakes region.”

“Well, I’ll certainly give it a go. Just let me know when.” You smile.

Sandra was absolutely right, the nachos were incredible. Lots of layers of chips and cheese, fresh veggies and guacamole, not to mention the sour cream and salsa. Everyone squares up their checks and heads out. Harry grabs his to go order from the bar. The sun was just barely setting, god, you loved August.

“I parked in the same lot as you, mind if I walk back up with you?” Harry asks after you all say goodnight.

“Not at all.” You smile.

“So, how was the first day? Is your brain ready to explode?”

“Only a little. I think if I take in anymore new information today I’ll pop.” Harry chuckles at that.

“I remember my faculty orientation.” He smirks and shakes his head. “I think I wore a suit, if you can believe it.”

“I’m sure you clean up really well.” You say playfully and he rolls his eyes.

“Well, you’re right about that, but it was super embarrassing at the time. No one told me how casual it was.”

“A little initiation ritual perhaps.”

“Maybe.” He looks at her. “I like your little, um, what do you call those.”

“Oh! My buns?”

“Yeah! Didn’t know if you’d still call them that, or poofs, or something.”

“Poof works.” You chuckle. “I wasn’t sure how humid it was going to be so I just did it up like that. They’re nice for keeping pens or pencils in.”

“Brilliant.” He smiles and reaches his car. “Well, I hope you enjoyed your first day. Feel free to email me if you have any questions. I know being new the area and campus can be overwhelming.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.” You nod and get into your own car. You take a deep breath as you drive away. “I can do this.” You tell yourself. You enjoyed how friendly everyone was, you could definitely see yourself fitting in with everyone.

//

Harry gets home soon after he leaves campus, only living about fifteen minutes away. He owned a quaint ranch-style home.

“Andy, I’m home, bud!” He yells out. “Got your dinner.” He walks into the living room and sees his son playing video games. “Please don’t tell me you played all day…”

“Hey, dad.” He pauses the game and takes the to go box from Harry. “No, I didn’t play all day.” He rolls his eyes. “I went to the skate park at with Brandon, and then we swam in his pool, remember?”

“Right, I’ll have to say thanks to his parents.” Harry sits down on the couch and sighs.

“Tired?” Andy asks with his mouth full.

“Yeah, it was just a day full of meetings, then we all had dinner. Being social is draining.” He laughs. “How’s the chicken, good?”

“Mhm.”

“Let me get you some napkins…water?”

“Yes, please.”

Harry nods to his son. Harry usually got to be with his son all summer, but this year Andy asked to stay for the school year. It was a rather large discussion that Harry had to have with him and Andy’s mother, who Harry wasn’t on bad terms with, but he certainly didn’t live the one on one chat.

“I just feel like he didn’t get this idea on his own.” She whispered to him in the kitchen.

“I swear I didn’t put the idea in his head. He just asked me out of the blue if he could be enrolled at the middle school. He’s going into fifth grade, maybe he wants a fresh start. He has good friends here, Paige.”

“He has good friends at home too…” She sighs. “I just…so what, now I only get to see him on weekends? I’m his mother, Harry.”

“And I’m his father.”

“You get him for the entire summer.”

“You know it’s not enough time with him. I miss him a lot during the school year.” He drums his fingers on the kitchen counter. “Do you think…I mean…your boyfriend moved in with you, right? Do you think he feels uncomfortable with the change?”

“I don’t know, when Noah and I spoke with him about it he said he was fine with it. He was used to him sleeping over anyways. He’s knowing him for two years now, it’s not that weird.”

“I didn’t say it was weird, I’m talking about comfort. Maybe he just doesn’t want to share his space. It’s not just Noah that moved in, he has a daughter too…”

“Andy and Rachel get along really well. She’s only a year younger than he is.” She sighs again. “I don’t want him thinking he’s being replaced, Harry. What if he doesn’t want to come back into my life once he’s with you all the time?”

“I don’t think that could happen, I’ll make sure it doesn’t.”

“And you’d be able to handle him all year long?”

“Sure, I’d have to change when I’m offering my classes so I’m home at a reasonable time, but I can make it work.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I could always send him home to you if I can’t be around anyways, like how you do with me.”

“Right.” She looks into the living room where Andy had his headphones in, and then back to Harry. “That’s my little baby in there. How can I let him go?”

“You’re not letting him go, you’re letting him grow up a bit. Why don’t we tell him we’ll see how this year goes, and then we can talk more seriously about custody and all that?”

“Alright, yeah, that seems fair.”

“You only live thirty minutes away, I could always drop him off for dinner sometimes, or-“

“Yeah.” She nods. “Well, um, let’s go talk with him then.”

That conversation happened after the July 4th holiday. Andy went home every other weekend to his mother’s, and Harry always talked with him about how his time with her was. Andy would always say that had a great time. He really did just like his friends better where Harry lived, and he was getting older. Maybe he just wanted to live with his dad.

“Alright.” Harry hands him the napkins and water. “Shall we watch a movie and then get you ready for bed?”

“I’m not a baby.” He scoffs.

“You are though, you’ll always be my baby.”

“Dad.” Andy groans. “Don’t be gross.”

“Can’t help it, you’re too stinkin’ cute.”

“Please stop before I barf up my chicken.”

Harry laughs and switches the TV to Netflix. Andy looked a lot like Harry in that he had curly hair and green eyes. He had his mother’s button nose and freckles. Andy liked dressing in basketball shorts and t-shirts, but he also like using a scrunchie or bandana to keep his hair off his face the way Harry did. It was cute.

“Am I going to mum’s this weekend?”

“You are, my darling.” Harry sips on a beer while lounging on the couch during the movie. “That alright?”

“Course.” He shrugs. “I actually have a new skate trick to show Rachel.”

“Do you to go boarding together?”

“Sometimes. She’s better on her skates, though.” He munches on some popcorn. “I kinda like going there on Friday nights because her and Noah go to temple on Saturday mornings, so mum and I get up late and make breakfast together.”

“Good, I’m glad you get that quality time together. I hope you’re paying attention to the culture that Rachel and Noah are bringing into your life, though. She’ll probably have a Bat Mitzvah someday and you’ll have this big party to go to.”

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever…I mean…it’s sort of weird that you like Noah…”

“Is it?” Harry sits up. “I’ve got no problem with him. He’s a nice guy, takes care of your mum.”

“That’s just it, I have friends with divorced parents and they-“

“Well, mum and I aren’t divorced, Andy, you know that. We never got married.”

“Even still…”

“We wanted to do right by you can be good co-parents. I’d be a real brat if I was rude to him.”

“How come you and mum never got married?”

Harry nearly chokes on his drink. He clears his throat and pauses the movie. Andy never really asked questions like this. He never even saw Harry and Paige as a couple, he never knew them together.

“Um…well…we were really young when you were born. I was twenty when we found out about you, and I was twenty-one when you born, I was just barely finishing school when you came along. Your mum was a year ahead of me, so luckily she got her degree before you were born.”

“Were you together then?”

“Yeah.” Harry nods. “Mum and I dated for about two years in undergrad, and then…well…we found out about you, and we were nervous, but excited.”

“But you didn’t want to get married?”

“I asked her, but she said no.”

“Why?”

“She thought I only wanted to marry her because she was pregnant.” He sighs. “Things like that sort of get complicated when you’re older. I also had a lot going on for school, and she didn’t want me to put my career on hold, she already had a full time job and all that. We tried to make things work, but we both realized a relationship shouldn’t be made to work because of…a baby. We both love you very much, Andy, make no mistake about that, but mum and I make better friends than a couple, I can assure you.”

“Oh.”

“Do you wish we were together sometimes?”

“Sometimes.” He nods. “But only because I hate going back and forth.”

“I’m sorry.” He sighs. “We live as close to each other as we can.”

“I know.” He furrows his brows. “I just don’t like when Noah acts like he’s my dad because he’s not, you are.”

“True, but you should still be respectful. Rachel lives there full time too, so-“

“I can’t stand that either, honestly.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know…ugh, she was on the phone with one of her friends and she referred to me as her brother. Not even step-brother, brother! I’m not her brother.” He huffs.

“Andy…come here.” His son gets up and sits next to him. Harry puts an arm around him and holds him close. “You’re going through a lot of change right now, huh?”

“I guess.” He looks up at Harry. “I think Noah’s gonna ask mum to marry her…which I guess is nice for her, but I’d rather just be with you.”

“You are with me.”

“Permanently, though. I’ve felt better just going over on the weekends, it’s plenty.”

“Mum and I said we’d see how this year at school goes, and then we could decide. I want you here, but I have to respect what she wants too.” He smiles down at him. “Poor you, having two parents who just love you so much.” He kisses his forehead.

“Blegh!” He wipes the spit from his forehead away. “What is wrong with you?” He gets up and goes back to his own seat.

“What? A father can’t love on his son anymore just because he’s in the double digits?”

“Exactly, press play.”

Harry laughs and shakes his head as he starts the movie back up.

//

Your semester was off to a great start. You got your office decorated nicely, and you were able to make it a cozy and homey space, which was good because you spent a lot of late nights there. Balancing teaching multiple sections of three different classes while also making time for research was proving to be a little difficult. Sometimes students were hanging out in the lounge while you were working, so you didn’t feel truly alone.

You were on an incredible team. You met bi-weekly with Lisa just for wellness check ins. She knew how overwhelming the first year could be, and she recommended chatting with Harry. He was the last one to go through all of it, so he would have the best tips. Harry was often out of the building by 3PM most days. He held virtual office hours from his home office. You weren’t entirely sure why he always needed to get home so early. Well, you weren’t sure until the answer slapped you in the face.

“And this is my new neighbor, Y/N.” You hear him say as he knocks on your door. “Got a second?”

“Um…sure.” You stand up and see a young boy with Harry.

“Y/N, this is my son, Andy. He had a half day from school today, so he’s hanging out until it’s time to go home.”

“Oh! Hi, Andy. It’s nice to meet you.” You had foolishly assumed the picture of Harry holding a baby on his desk was a nephew or something since he himself looked so young in the photo.

“Nice to meet you too.” He mumbles.

“What grade are you in?”

“Fifth.”

“Oh, so you just started middle school? How’s that going?”

“Okay, I guess.” He shrugs. “Dad, can I go get a snack at the grille?”

“Sure.” Harry fishes for his wallet and hands Andy a ten dollar bill. “Don’t pig out though, I want you to be hungry for dinner.”

“Okay.” He walks away from them and Harry shakes his head with a smile.

“He’s a human disposal right now.”

“I…didn’t know you had a son.” You say awkwardly.

“Yeah! Yikes, have I not mentioned him before now?” You shake your head no. “Guess that means we haven’t spent enough time together then.” You blush slightly and Harry clears his throat, then pushes his glasses up his nose. “He, um, just turned ten in May…sort of had him young.”

“I see.”

“This is his first time being with me during the school year. He wanted to give this school system a try, couldn’t say no to that.”

“Oh…um…so his mom…?” You didn’t want to pry too much. Harry wore a lot of rings so you weren’t sure if he was married or not.

“She lives about thirty minutes away, closer to the lakes. She’s a para at a law office, does well for herself. We were college sweethearts, but it didn’t work out.” He shrugs and you nod. “She’s got a serious boyfriend and he has a daughter a year younger than Andy. I think he felt like his personal space was closing in on him, so he asked to live with me. I usually just get him for the summer when I’m not teaching, it’s been great having him around more.”

“He has your eyes.” You wanted smack your forehead for making such a weird comment.

“He does! One of the first things I noticed about him when they stopped being that weird, dark color babies have when they’re first born.” You simply nod your head. “Well, I’ve taken up a lot of your time…um…let’s plan a lunch or something sometime soon. I’d love to know how your classes are going. I know it can’t be easy teaching the intro courses.”

“I’m doing well with it, actually. I taught a lot of the first-year courses at my previous institution. I’ve just been more bogged down with my research than anything else.”

“I’d like to hear more about that too, if that’s alright. Didn’t get to hear about like everyone else since I was gone during your interviews.”

“Sure, we could do lunch sometime then.” Harry smiles at that.

“Great. You know, we get together to do a monthly game night with the faculty from the English department. It’s in a couple of weeks, I hope you’ll come. A lot of their classes double count within our major, so it would be good for you to meet them.”

“Yeah, just let me know when it is. I enjoyed the hike a couple weeks ago.”

“I was pissed I missed that.” Harry groans. “I had to take Andy-“

“Dad.” Andy comes back, handing Harry his change. He was biting into a BLT.

“Thank you, let’s go into my office, yeah? You’ve got some homework that needs to get done.”

“Fine.” He goes into Harry’s office with a huff.

“Anyways, I’ll let you know when the game night is.”

“Okay, thanks.” You smile at each other and go back to sit down in your office.

He had a kid, a ten-year-old…holy shit. You couldn’t imagine going through your master’s and doctoral program while also raising a child. Good for him, you think.  Andy was a pretty cute kid, a mop of curls, just like his dad.

//

You gave yourself Saturdays off. Saturdays were for sleeping in, doing a quick pilates workout, grocery shopping, laundry and whatever other chores you may have. Saturdays were for curling up on the sofa with a cup of tea and good movie. Saturday nights were for you and Janette, who you have become pretty close with, to go have drinks.

“You need to find someone to bring home with you tonight.” Janette says, as you both begin your second drinks of the evening.

“Oh stop.” You laugh. “I don’t think I have the energy to pretend to be into someone enough to fuck them.” She rolls her eyes at you. “So…what’s this I hear about a game night with the English department?”

“Oh! It’s so much fun. Once a month someone different hosts it. Sometimes we play board games, sometimes it’s card games, one time we even played Heads Up, that was a hoot.” She giggles. “You should definitely come, Lisa’s hosting the next one. Her house is huge and has a beautiful view of the lakes and mountains.”

“I think I might, yeah.”

“Who told you about it? I think Lucas was planning to add you to the email about it.”

“Oh, Harry mentioned it the other day. He said it would be good for me to get to know the other faculty.”

“He’s certainly right about that.”

“I met his son…”

“Andy was in the office! Damn, I try to keep candy in my office for him. He’s so sweet. He was just a little guy when Harry started, can’t believe he’s in middle school.”

“Yeah, he was really polite. Sort of closed off at the same time.”

“Harry seems to think he’s become more self-aware. It’s a big deal for him to want to live with Harry year round.” She sips her drink. “Shouldn’t gossip too much about it though.”

“Right.” You sip your own drink.

“The students seem to like you so far, we’ve all heard good things from our advisees.”

“Really?! That means a lot.”

“Your teaching must speak for itself.”

“Students are always in the downstairs lounge, it’s nice to chat with them sometimes. They always seem to be visiting Harry. Andre and Sandra are down with us too, and they don’t have as many frequent flyers.”

“I know you’re new and all, but I didn’t think you were naïve.” She chuckles.

“What do you mean?”

“Harry perfectly fits the hot teacher trope, Y/N. He’s slightly mysterious with his tattoos and his nail polish, but still totally approachable. He’s dorky, but funny. He’s got a little muscle on him, but he’s not terribly intimidating, plus he’s fucking brilliant. You should sit in on his Literature and Film class.”

“One might think you have a crush on him from the way you speak about him.” You tease her.

“One would have to be straight, my dear.” She winks at you, and you laugh a little too loud. “However, I know an attractive man when I see one. Girls swoon over him all the time. It was really bad when he first started because he was a little closer in age with students, things have calmed down considerably though.”

“He dresses nicely too, I like his style.”

“It’s a little out there, but it works for him.”

“Sometimes I can smell the nail polish remover from my office.” You giggle. “He really hates when they’re chipped, huh?”

“God, you have no idea. Sometimes in the faculty meetings I’ll catch him chipping away at, next time I see him they’re freshly painted again.”

You take an uber home after having four drinks with your friend. You gossiped about some other people, Harry didn’t remain the topic of conversation for long. You get home and strip yourself of your clothes, and wash up before getting into your blanket burrito.

//

Sundays were for getting a head start on the week. Sometimes you worked from your office at home, but today you forgot something at your office at work, so you decide to just grab all your things and work from your office for the day. You were making some progress on your research and you wanted to keep riding the wave you were on.

You had a tie-dye t-shirt on under your coat that had a picture of Goofy on it, and a pair of jeans on. You didn’t need to be super dressed up for some weekend work. No one was usually in the building anyways. You get some up and put some music on while you do some reading and highlighting.

“Hey! Look who it is.”

“Jesus!” You flinch and look up. “Scared the shit out of me, Harry.”

“Sorry about that.” He rubs the back of his neck. “You’re a tad jumpy.”

“Hard not to be when you’re always coming out of nowhere.” You turn your music down and stand up to walk over to him, crossing your arms over your stupid shirt. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, Andy’s with his mum this weekend, and I needed a change of scenery from the home office, so I thought I’d come here.”

“Oh.”

He looks you up and down and smiles.

“Is Goofy your favorite?”

“Huh?”

“Your shirt.” He points to it. “Personally, I’m partial to Mickey Mouse, but Goofy’s fun.”

“This is a really old shirt, I did laundry yesterday so this is what I was left with.”

“Ah…and I suppose you weren’t expecting to bump into your colleague.”

“Correct.”

“Well, I think it’s proper cute, so no worries, I won’t make fun.” He winks and goes into his own office.

You feel your cheek and it’s considerably warmer than it was from before he got there. You shake your head and return to your seat, opting to put your headphones in to not disturb him. Just as you’re getting going in the zone again, he comes into your office and plops down on one of the reupholstered chairs you had on the other side of your desk.

“Yes?” You ask, taking your headphones out.

“I want you to come observe my wellness class this week.”

“Why?”

“Because I think you could use some time to distress. You don’t teach any 8AM’s, right?”

“No…um…what makes you think I need to distress?”

“You just look like you’re carrying a lot of tension. It’s a great class. We chat, we meditate. Sometimes students fall asleep, but I’ve told them it’s okay. If their bodies are telling them they need sleep, then they should sleep. We do a bit of yoga as well. Plus, I just think it would be good for you to observe me.”

“I was told your literature class would be fun to observe, couldn’t I do that instead?”

“And let you get out of a bit of meditation?” He scoffs. “I don’t think so, sister.” You laugh at that.

“Alright, which day should I come?”

“It’s my Tuesday/Thursday course. You can pick which morning you’d prefer.”

“Anything else?”

“Tell me about your research.”

“Are you just using me to procrastinate?” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“Hey, what happens between me and the stack of papers I need to grade is none of your business.” You laugh at him again. Harry was funny, no doubt about that. “Come on, just a few minutes, tell me what you’re working on.”

“I am researching anonymity online, the pros and cons, how social media is mixed into it, stuff like that. People carry themselves different on the various social media platforms, trying to show specific versions of themselves, but when you’re able to remain anonymous, you somehow are truly able to be yourself without fear of judgement.”

“So, what are the cons then?”

“Oh, there are tons. There’s the fear of someone finding this anonymous version of yourself and being exposed. Then there are the people that forget there’s someone else behind the screen and send nasty messages to other anonymously.”

“That’s my biggest fear with Andy. He’s been begging me for a smart phone, but I just don’t feel comfortable with that yet.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I told him when he was thirteen we could talk about it.”

“It’s funny, I didn’t get my first phone until I was fifteen, and it was one of those ones that slid open and had a keyboard. Literally had to use the family desktop if I wanted to go on Facebook.”

“Do people even use Facebook anymore? Feel like it’s just forty-year-old wine moms and Home Depot dads.” Harry snorts.

“No one uses it anymore because it’s not fun. It may as well be LinkedIn.” You scoff.

“Well, I’ll certainly be looking forward to reading what you whip up when the time comes.” He smiles.

“Thanks.”

“I’ll let you get back to it…um, feel like grabbing a bite later?”

“If you don’t disturb me for the next two hours I’ll consider getting lunch with you.”

“Oh, I love a challenge.” He grins and stands up, leaving your office.

You smile and shake your head. Perhaps your neighbor was becoming a pretty good friend.

//

“You’re coming to Lisa’s tonight, right?” Harry asks you as he slings his bag over his shoulder on Friday afternoon.

“I believe so, six, right?”

“Yup! Do you need directions?”

“I have this thing called a smart phone, and get this…it has an app where if I put in an address, it shows me the route!”

“I really hate it when you’re sarcastic with me.” He rolls his eyes. “Get it enough from my son, you know?”

“Will he be joining the fun as well?”

“Nope, he’s with his mum this weekend. I gotta go get him from school and get him all packed up for her.”

“Does she always pick him up?”

“She picks him up on Fridays, and I pick him up on Sundays.” He shrugs. “It just works for us.”

“Makes sense.”

“Right, well, I’ll see you later.”

“Okay.” You smile and wave him off.

After knuckling at your eyes, you head home around 4PM. You wanted to shower and freshen up before heading to Lisa’s. It was a beautiful, chilly Fall evening, so you opt for a light sweater and black jeans, and a pair of boots. You run your fingers through your hair, reapply some makeup, and grab the bottle of white you had chilling in your fridge. You plug the address into your phone, and get going.

It was about a twenty-five minute drive. Lisa lived in a neighborhood with a lot of beautiful homes. Her driveway was long and winding, and on top of a hill.

“This must be a bitch in the winter.” You say to yourself. Maybe that was why she was hosting the September game night. There were a couple of other cars there, so you didn’t feel totally awkward. You walk up to the door and ring the bell.

“Y/N!” Lisa exclaims and hugs you. “Come on in, so glad you could make it.”

“Thank you for having me. I brought some wine.” You hand the bottle to her as you step inside.

“Oh, thank you, dear.”

“Shoes on or off?”

“On is perfectly fine, it’s all hardwood.” Lisa leads you inside. “I’ll get this open.”

You wait for her to pour you a glass, and then she leads you into the living room. Sandra and Mateo were already there. You wave hello and grab a seat.

“Y/N, this is Dan, the English department chair, Alice, Joe, and Fred.”

“Hi, it’s nice to formally meet you all.” You stand up and shake a few hands.

Everyone mingles and eats the snacks Lisa puts out. Her husband was quite the co-host. Janette shows up next, and you end up sitting with her. Harry’s the last to arrive. Lisa gets him a glass of red right away. He looked handsome. A tan cardigan over a white t-shirt and a pair of light wash jeans.

“Sorry I’m late everyone, Paige was over an hour late picking Andy up. There was an accident on the highway and she got stuck behind it, it was a whole thing.”

Paige, it was the first time Y/N heard Harry actually say the name of Andy’s mother.

“No worries, H.” Andre says. “Relax, we haven’t even decided on the game yet.”

“Thank god.” Harry plops down next to you on the couch. “Janette, did Y/N tell you she observed my wellness class yesterday?”

“She did, she told me she fell asleep the second you turned the lights off.” She snickers.

“Please, keep talking about me like I’m not even here.” You roll your eyes. Harry and Janette both lean over you so they can pretend to speak closer. “Okay, okay.” You push them both away. “That’s enough, thank you.”

“Alright, everyone, I was thinking we could play charades, yeah?” Lisa announces. “It’ll keep us limber.”

“English vs. CM?” Dan asks.

“You know it.” Lisa grins.

You were pretty good at charades so you weren’t worried. The couple of glasses of wine certainly helped boost your confidence. It was fun to let a little loose with your colleagues. It was some much needed bonding. Harry was quite competitive, which surprised you because he was usually so chill about everything. It was down to the final points, Harry needed to guess the name of your film correctly.

You put up two fingers.

“Second word.” You nod and he licks his lips in concentration You pretend to open a book and write it in it. “Uhhh, book…” He furrows his brows. You look up like as if you’re reading something, and then you pretend to write the book some more. “Notes…notebook, oh! The Notebook!” You tap your finger on your nose and your team cheers. “Ha!” Harry stands up and hugs you. He lets you go and looks back at everyone. “That was exhilarating. Better luck next time.” He says to the English team.

“Wasn’t exactly a difficult film to guess.” Alice says playfully.

“I had zero control over the slip of paper I chose out of that hat.” You grin.

You all help clean up before heading out. You slip your coat on and head outside after saying your goodbyes.

“Y/N?” You hear Harry from behind you. “You’re good to drive, right?”

“Yeah, of course. Wouldn’t get behind the wheel if I wasn’t.”

“Alright.” He smiles. “Just wanted to be sure.” He walks with you outside.

“It would be pretty bad if I got so fucked up I couldn’t drive home from our department chair’s house.”

“Lisa would actually get a pretty good kick out of it.” He smirks. You get to your car and press the button to unlock it. “Well…I hope you enjoy the rest of your weekend.”

“Same to you, any big plans while Andy’s gone?”

“Not really, I try to save the fun stuff for while he’s with me.”

“Aw, no hot dates.” You wink at him. Okay, maybe some of the wine was still in your system. He blinks at you for a moment and then he bursts out laughing.

“Right, the ladies are really fighting to knock my door down.” He wipes a tear from under his eye. “Can’t remember the last time I went on a proper date to be honest with you. Not exactly a turn on when you bring someone home and they see kid’s toys hanging around.”

“Oh come on, you’ve totally got the hot single dad thing working for you.” You nudge his shoulder. “Janette I usually go out on Saturday nights for drinks, you should come out tomorrow.”

“Um…which, uh, which bar do you go to?”

“Firefly, little more adult. We don’t really see the college kids there.”

“Sure, yeah, I know that place well. Um, what time?”

“Nine?”

“I’ll be there.” He smiles.

“Great! Goodnight, Harry.”

“Night, Y/N.”

He watches as you get into your car and drive away. It wasn’t until you woke up the next morning that you realize that you essentially asked him out, and that you sort of flirted with him. You text Janette immediately and let her know he may show up.

Jan: Yay! Harry’s so much fun to go drinking with, this’ll be great!

Will it? You think to yourself. It was one thing to have a couple of glasses of wine with colleagues, but you usually got pretty drunk with Janette, always taking an uber to and from the bar. You were a nervous wreck all day, and you weren’t sure why. You were hoping all of your Saturday chores would distract you, but they weren’t.

As you get ready, you decide on a blue dress that showed a tasteful amount of cleavage, pairing it with patterned nylons, and boots. Your hair is down and wavy, and your makeup looks cute, for now. You put on your leather jacket and head out. Well, not before doing a quick shot at home. Your leg bounces the entire time in the uber. Janette is already there at your usual table. She waves you over and you sit down.

“I texted Harry earlier.” She says to you. “Just so he really knew he was invited.”

“I don’t have his number, otherwise I would have. Sorry, I feel like I should have asked first. This is sort of like our girl’s night.”

“Are you kidding?! Like I said earlier, Harry is super fun to drink with.”

After you both guzzle down your first drink, Harry arrives. He’s got a black button up on with the first few buttons undone, exposing the birds on his collar bones. He smiles when he sees the both of you.

“H!” Janette says, getting up to hug him and give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Hello, love.” He gives her a squeeze and a returned kiss. He looks at you and you give him a shy smile before giving him a side hug. “Thanks again for the invite, haven’t been to this place in a while.” He slides into the stool.

“Oh, of course!” Janette says. “I was excited when Y/N said you were coming.”

“Apparently I need to do more fun things when Andy’s with his mum.” He nudges you.

“What do you usually do when he’s gone?” You ask him.

“I usually clean up the house, stalk up on food, wash his sheets…dad stuff.” He shrugs with a laugh. The waitress comes over and smiles.

“Can I get you started with anything?”

“Rum and coke would be great, and I’ll start a tab.” He hands her his credit card and she nods.

“Nother round for you two?”

“Please!” Janette says.

“Yes.” You say with a smile.

The waitress nods and smiles. She walks away and looks back at Harry, blushing.

“Oh boy.” Janette grins. “I think you may get lucky tonight, H.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Our waitress did a double take.”

“She’s probably, like, ten years younger than I am or something. Not my style.”

“Fair enough.” She shrugs.

“What about you? Any ladies you’re trying to take home?”

“Well, if I weren’t in a long distance relationship, sure.”

“You and Sadie are still together?” He asks almost in shock.

“Of course we are! You would have known if we broke up.”

“Doesn’t it get difficult?” He frowns.

“I really don’t mind. When we’re able to be together it’s nice, but I like having my own space.” Janette turns to you. “Sadie is a photographer, traveling for National Geographic.”

“That’s incredible!”

The waitress brings all of the dinks over and you clink your glasses.

“Alright, what’s the gossip, ladies? Who are we shitting on?”

“Hmm.” Jaette taps her chin. “Perhaps Dan? He’s obviously still in love with Lisa.”

“Still?” Your jaw drops.

“Back in the day,” Harry starts, “he and Lisa were quite the item. She met Arnold at a conference. He’s a chef.”

“Ah, that’s why the food is so good.”

“Mhm, he’s retired now, but at the time she had to make this big choice between the two of them, and she chose Arnold. Built an entire life with him. Dogs, kids, big house, you name it.” Harry explains.

“And Dan’s been married and divorced twice. Lisa’s the one that got away.” Janette sighs. “Course, Lisa’s incredibly oblivious, or she pretends to be. You’d think they were simply best friends.”

“I wonder what made her choose Arnold over Dan.” You say.

“Good dick.” Janette says. “Simple as that.”

“Oh, come on.” You roll your eyes.

“You come on! Are you going to tell me you’d give up good dick?”

“So you’re telling me she was seeing both of them at the same time, and she chose Arnold because he hit it better?”

“That’s what I’m inferring, yes.” She sips her drink. “Getting to come every time you fuck is worth it, don’t you think?”

Harry nearly chokes on his drink from laughing.

“I forgot how nasty you can be, I love it.” He says and looks at you. “So, Y/N, what’s your answer? Is an orgasm reason enough to choose one guy over another?”

“Well, considering that I dated some real fuck when I was in college just so I could get some good dick, I’d have to say yes.” You say, enjoying the look on both of their faces. “I mean, it’s hard to remember how much you can’t stand someone when they’re railing you to completion.”

“Very true.” Janette agrees. “Also, Arnold is a really sweet man, sort of the whole package for her. I don’t think Lisa liked be challenged, and Dan, I heard, would challenge her on everything.”

“I’m usually up for a debate, but I get that. I don’t need to be in control of everything, but agreeable people are better.” You say.

“I wouldn’t say it’s because he’s agreeable.” Harry says, finishing his drink, and gesturing towards the waitress for another. “Arnold is smitten, not just in love, big difference.”

“How so?” You ask.

“When you’re…oh, thank you.” He smiles at the waitress brings him a new drink. “When you’re smitten, you walk around with rose colored glasses, to some that can be a bad thing, but I think when you’re that in love, you should really adore the person you’re with too. Arnold adores Lisa, Dan doesn’t. You can tell by the way they both look at her.”

It was nice discussing things like this with people who also observed people the way you did. It makes you wonder, though, what they may have picked up on about you.

After a few more drinks, you knew you needed to stop when your vision began to get hazy. Harry only had his two drinks since he drove himself. He drank some water as the night went on.

“H, Y/N lives not too far from you, help her save a couple bucks and drive her home, would you?”

“Jan…” You scold her.

“She’s right, I could give you a lift, if you want?”

“Um…well…sure.”

You both say goodnight to Janette, and Harry helps you into his car. He keeps the music low as he pulls out of the bar.

“So, where am I taking you?”

“To The Ledges, do you know where that is?”

“Sure do.” He chuckles. “Lived there myself when I first moved to the area.”

“Really?! It’s a great size place. I love it.”

“Got any pets or anything?”

“Nope, just me, myself, and I.” You grin.

“And you prefer it that way?”

“Well, after living at home my whole life, and then having various roommates over the years, I’d say that I’m quite enjoying living alone.”

“Good for you. I’m glad you’re liking it here so much. The person you replaced was such a twat.” You burst into laughter. “I’m serious! He never came to any of the outings. It was like he didn’t even care that we were trying to get him to engage. The second he got his PhD he left. Good riddance.” Harry scoffs.

“I really like it. It’s a lot different than being at a college in the city. I wasn’t sure how I’d do working in a college town, but I’m really enjoying it. I feel safe, you know? I didn’t always feel safe in the city.”

“I’m sorry, that had to have been difficult.”

“On the late nights it was. I usually had UPD walk me to my car. I don’t really have to do that here. I feel like I gained a lot of independence back.”

Harry pulls up to the apartment building, and parks. He turns the ignition off and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“What are you doing?”

“I was going to walk you to the door…”

“Oh…you don’t have to.”

“I insist.”

“Really, it’s okay. Um, thank you for the ride, it was really nice of you.”

“Thanks for the invite, I had fun.” He smiles.

“Me too.” You smile back and get out of the car.

You hear the car turn back on, and you know he waits to drive off until you’re inside.

//

“Paige, I get him for Christmas, why are you trying to change things?”

“You usually get him for Christmas because you don’t usually get him for the school year.” She crosses her arms as she stands outside in the frigid early December air.

“But you just got him for Thanksgiving.”

“You don’t celebrate Thanksgiving!”

“I observe!” He takes a deep breath. “His plane ticket is already paid for, he’s coming with me to London like always, and he will be back to you for New Year’s, like always.” He steps closer to her. “He looks forward to seeing my mum and Gem every winter, please don’t take that away from him.”

“It’s just…we’re hosting a Hanukkah party, and Noah really wanted him to be a part of it…”

“Shit.” Harry rubs the back of his neck. “There’s Jewish holidays all the time, couldn’t Andy be a part of the next celebration?”

“Dad! Come on, the Pats game is starting!”

“One second, just saying bye to mum!” He yells to Andy, and looks back at Paige, eyes pleading.

“Alright…he can still go with you.”

“Thank you.” Harry breathes. “His cousins would miss him terribly.”

“I know, I’d feel terrible doing that to him. I’m just trying to balance all of this. I wanna be a good partner to Noah, and somewhat of a mother figure to Rachel, but I don’t want Andy to feel like I’m favoring them over him. He comes first, he always will.”

“I’m sure he knows that.” He puts his hand on her shoulder. “Have a latke for me, yeah?”

“Yeah.” She smiles and gives his hand a squeeze before getting back into her car.

Harry heads inside and sits on the couch while Andy sits in his usual spot on the love seat, entranced by the football game.

“What was that all about? I heard shouting.”

“Could barely hear each other over the wind outside. Nothing to worry about. We were just confirming plans for your holiday break.”

“I’m still going to London, right?”

“Of course! No question about it.”

Andy smiles at Harry before returning his attention to the TV. Harry was usually very honest with Andy, but he didn’t need to worry him with any of the drama.

//

“You survived your first semester, congrats!” Janette says, popping a bottle of champagne as she walks into your office.

“Not over yet, I have finals to grade.”

“Whatever, the kids are gone, that’s something to celebrate.” She nods towards the plastic cups you keep in your office, and you grab two. “Any plans for the holidays? Going home at all?”

“Oh sure. Doing the Hanukkah thing with my folks, and then doing New Year’s in Boston with some friends.”

“Fun!”

“Wait.” Harry says, overhearing, grabbing the bottle for a swig. “You’re Jewish?”

“Yes?” You raise an eyebrow at him and take a sip from your cup.

“Brilliant. Paige’s boyfriend is Jewish, and I think it’s confusing for Andy. He doesn’t much like asking th guy questions, maybe he could talk to you sometime.”

“Sure.” You shrug. “Any plans for the holidays?”

“Yeah, Andy comes home to London for Christmas, and then I send him back for New Year’s with his mum.”

“You send him on the plane alone?”

“I haven’t always, but they let me walk him right to the gate, and he flies first class, so it’s very safe. They let his mum wait at the other gate too. I like to stay home for a few weeks if I can. I’m afraid I’m a bit of a mama’s boy.” He takes another swig of the bottle. “I am not looking forward to grading these papers. I really should just have each class do a presentation, can grade those right on the spot.”

“Tell me about it.” Janette groans. “My Advanced Comp class is going to be the death of me.”

“Well, clearly this champagne is going to keep us all awake enough to get through it.”

The three of you stand there laughing. You were looking forward to the long winter break. It would give you plenty of time to work on your research, and you wouldn’t be disturbed by any students popping in and out of your office, as much as you enjoyed the chats.

//

It was the beginning of January, there you were, working away in your office. You had a long flowy dress on, for some reason, and your door bursts open.

“Y/N! I’ve traveled across the pond for you!”

“Harry! You’re back.”

“That’s right, darling, I’m back.” He pushes everything off your desk, walks around to your and pulls you close to him. He crashes his mouth to yours.

“Oh, Harry.” You moan.

“Oh, Y/N.” He moans back before laying you on your desk. “I’m going to make you feel so good.” He rips your dress of and kneels in front of you, diving his head between your legs.

You wake up in a cold sweat, panting. Your eyes snap open and you grimace. Your legs feel sweaty, so you kick your blankets off.

“What the fuck?” You say to yourself as you sit up. Harry was attractive, but you never once fantasized about him. You reach between your legs and gasp. “Did I just fucking have a wet dream?!” You lick at your sticky fingers and shake your head in disbelief. “Shower, go shower Y/N.” You were talking to yourself, yes, but it was needed to help you calm down.

You were incredibly embarrassed. Harry was your friend, not someone you wanted to fuck, and certainly not on your desk in your office at work. Most people would be turned off, but doing it in a professional place was a big turn off for you. The idea of getting caught was also not a turn on for you. If you were ever caught you could be fired, and it just wasn’t worth it. Neither was dating a colleague. It wasn’t against the rules or anything, nor was it frowned upon, but dating in the workplace could lead to a lot of problems. You had a PhD on the line. Maybe it was time to just suck it up and go for a one night stand.

//

You had forgotten all about your dream by the time the January faculty meeting hit. That is, until Harry was the last to walk in. Your face flushes immediately. His hair was a little longer, and he had a bit of scruff that he normally wouldn’t have. He smiles and says hello to a couple of people, and then sits down right next to you.

“Hi.” He whispers with a smile.

“Hello.” You swallow and don’t look at him.

“How was your-“

“Can we get started?” Lisa addresses the group. “Much to go over, we need to start talking about the fall schedule.”

You were grateful for the distraction of the discussion, but you felt Harry’s eyes burn into you every few moments. He had to have known you were acting weird, you wouldn’t fucking look at him. Even if you thought to try, you just couldn’t. Two hours later, and the meeting finally ends. You gather your things quickly and head out, and down to your office. Just as you’re able to take a deep breath, you look up and see Harry standing in your doorway, hands in his pockets, squinting at you.

“Are we good?” He asks.

“Um.” You focus on the space behind him. “Yes, why wouldn’t we be?”

“Because you refuse to look at me. Even now, you’re not really looking at me.” He shifts his weight so he’s stand up normally. “Are you mad because I didn’t reach out over break?”

“What? No! I could care less about that, it wasn’t like I reached out to you.”

“So…what is it then? You make eye contact all the time, it’s not like you to not.”

“I…” You suck both of your lips into your mouth. “It’s nothing, it’s stupid, I’m being stupid.”

“If it’s stupid then just tell me.” He comes in and sits down on your loveseat.

“Harry, please.” You shake your head and sit down in your desk chair.

“Come on, Y/N. Clearly something’s bothering you.”

“Ugh.” You groan and get up to close your door. You sit on the edge of your desk. “I…had a rather odd dream a week or so ago…”

“Okay?”

“And you were in it.” You whisper.

“What was I doing in your dream?” He whispers back.

“That’s just it, I don’t know.” You rest your chin in your palm as you cross your arms over your chest.

“Well I must have done something to make you not even look at me. Did I hurt you, do something scary?”

“No…I suppose I wouldn’t call it scary, but I was certainly disturbed when I woke up.”

“What then?” A smirk grows on his face. “Don’t tell me you had a sex dream or something.” When your face stays the way it is his smile fades. “You had a sex dream about me?” You nod yes. “Where were we?”

“Here.”

“In your office?!”

“Shh!” You swat your hands in his direction. “Do you want the building to hear?”

“You had a dream that we fucked in your office?”

“Well, it wasn’t fucking per say…you sort of…I don’t know…it doesn’t matter.”

“No tell me, let’s talk this through.”

“You wiped everything off my desk, ripped my clothes off, sat me on top, and then…” You wince slightly. “You sort of…got your head between my legs, and then I woke up.” You say the rest of it quickly. “And I was utterly concerned when I woke up because I swear I don’t see you that way, Harry. You’re my friend, just my friend. I forgot all about it, and then I saw you and got all embarrassed again.”

He stands up from his seat and gives you a shy smile.

“It was just a dream, you don’t need to be embarrassed. We’re adults, yeah? Let’s act like it.”

“I just don’t want you thinking I’m some…sex maniac or something.”

“I don’t.”

“Okay…I’m sorry if I worried you during the meeting. It really is good to see you, I’m glad you’re back. We could have lunch soon, I’d love to hear about London.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He smiles, but you can tell it’s fake.

He heads out and goes into his own office, closing the door behind him. For whatever reason, your words hurt him. Just my friend rang through his mind. It wasn’t as though it were a lie, you were just friends, but you made it clear you didn’t want him to be the one between your legs in a dream. At first he was flattered, but now…well, now he just felt sad. Was he not good enough to be the one to get you off? Even if in a dream? He hears a knock on the door.

“Yes?”

You open it slowly.

“I hurt your feelings…”

“A little.” He admits. “Not sure why, though.”

“I just didn’t want you to think I was objectifying you.”

“It was a dream, Y/N, you have zero control over it.”

“But I must have been thinking of you subconsciously, right? Isn’t that how that works?”

“Okay, so maybe you were thinking of me and maybe that got mixed in with…whatever else.”

“I just don’t want you thinking I want to fuck you, that’s all.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” He mumbles.

“You want me to want to fuck you?!”

“Now who’d being loud?!”

“Sorry…”

“It’s just, well, how would you feel if I told you I didn’t want to fuck you, you probably wouldn’t feel too great about yourself.”

“It’s not that you’re not attractive, Harry-“

“This is making it worse.” He runs his hands over his face and looks at you. “It was just a dream, nothing to worry about, okay?”

“Things won’t be weird between us?”

“No.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have acted the way I did in that meeting, then we wouldn’t have needed to talk about it.”

“Did you tell Janette?”

“I resent that, just because I’m close with her doesn’t mean she knows every bit of my business.”

“I just didn’t know if I should be expecting some teasing from her.”

“No, none, and you better not tease me either.”

“I won’t.” He smiles. “London was good by the way…”

“Good, I’m glad.” You smile at him. “Talk later?”

“Yeah.”

//

“Not that I’m not happy to be out with the two of you, but why are the three of us out to dinner?” Andy asks.

“Mum and I thought it would be nice to see what you wanted to do for your February vacation. Usually you come see me and we go skiing, but mum knows how to ski too-“

“You’re canceling our trip?!”

“No! We were just thinking mum could take you this year.”

“But it’s your cabin.”

“And I don’t mind sharing.”

“Andy…I thought it would be nice for the four of us to go together. Noah knows how to snowboard, and Rachel wants to take a skiing lesson.”

“Great, so now this going to be a huge family trip? I don’t wanna do that, Mum.” Andy groans.

“Andy.” Harry sighs. “I think Mum and I have been very accommodating to you this year. Could you please just try to help us out a little? Do you know how many kids would kill to have their parents take them on a ski trip for their breaks?”

“I’m not trying to be ungrateful, I’m sorry.” He looks down at his plate and then back up to Harry. “Can’t you still come? The house is big enough.”

“It’s not a bad idea, Har.” Paige says to him and his eyes widen.

“Would Noah and Rachel feel comfortable with that? I wouldn’t want to overstep…”

“I’ll talk to them, I can’t see either of them feeling weird about it. She refers to you as Uncle Harry as it is, and it’s your cabin, I don’t think Noah would care.”

“Would you be alright with it?”

“Sure.” She shrugs. “There’s that spare room on the other end of the house, so you could have your own space and the kids could stay in the bunk room.”

“Wait, so this is happening?” Andy perks up. “You’d really come, Dad?”

“Yeah, if it’s not weird for anyone, I’m in.”

Andy gets up from the table and moves to hug both Harry and Paige, both of them looking at each other surprised. They give each other mental high fives for being able to figure things out.

“I’m really excited now.” Andy says as he sits back down.

“Okay, now that we’ve got that out of the way…” Paige grins and looks back at one of the waitresses, giving her a nod. Happy birthday starts being sung throughout the restaurant.

“Oh my god.” Harry closes his eyes and groans. “This dinner wasn’t about me…”

“Nonsense.” She chuckles. “How often do we all get to celebrate together?”

A small cake with candles is brought over in front of Harry. The singing continues and he feels thoroughly embarrassed.

“Wanna help me blow ‘em out?” He asks Andy.

“Yeah!” He leans over and blows out the candles and the restaurant claps.

Harry looks at Paige and shakes his head. She laughs and thanks the waitresses.

“Andy, go get in Dad’s lap, I’ll take your picture together. I’ve got your gift for him in the car too, I’ll go get it.” Andy crawls into Harry’s lap, and Paige uses Harry’s phone to snap the photo. She beams when she looks at it. “You should get this one printed, it’s adorable.” She gets up and leaves to go get the gifts.

“Did you know about all this?” He says to Andy giving him a squeeze before letting him go.

“She just told me we were meeting you for dinner instead of going straight to your place.” He shrugs.

Paige returns shortly with a few cards and bags.

“Alright, this is from Rachel and Noah.”

“They didn’t have to get me anything…”

“They insisted!”

Harry takes the card out and smiles. Rachel had clearly drawn him a picture, it was cute. His smile grows wider when he takes a nail kit out of the small bag.

“I was due for one of these, I’ll have to text Noah a thank you.” Harry opens the next bag and sees a card from Andy that he also drew. In the bag was a new set of pocket squares for his suits, that he desperately needed, some bandanas, scrunchies, and a gift card to his favorite clothing store. “Went all out son, thank you.”

“Thought your…what was the word you used, Mum?”

“Wardrobe.” She chuckles.

“Yeah! Thought your wardrobe could use an update.”

“Should I be offended?” He says, raising an eyebrow.

“I think you should be happy your son has your keen eye for fashion.” She slides another card over. “That one’s from me.”

“You’ve done enough.” He says before leaning over to kiss the top of Andy’s head.

“Just open it.”

Harry rolls his eyes and opens the card. He starts laughing. There was some joke about being close co-parents, and a gift card to one of his favorite restaurants.

“Thank you.”

“More than welcome.”

Andy hugs Paige goodbye in the parking lot before hopping in the backseat of Harry’s car.

“Were you surprised, Dad?”

“Very! Thank you again for the gifts, it was very thoughtful of you.”

“I’m more excited about going skiing now.”

“Sorry if we scared you. I just wanna make sure Mum gets to see you.”

“I know.” He sighs. “Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“How come Mum has Noah, but you don’t have anyone?”

“I have you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I just…I don’t know, I don’t have much time for dating.”

“What do you do on the weekends when I’m not with you?”

“Sometimes I see friends, or I catch up on some grading, I clean up too. You’re gonna start doing more chores, that would be the ultimate birthday gift.”

“It’s okay if you wanna date, you know…”

“I don’t exactly need your permission.” He chuckles.

“I know…but I want you to know I’m okay with it.”

“Well, I appreciate that, thanks.”

//

When Harry walks into his office Monday morning he’s surprised to see a vase full of flowers. There’s a small card with it:

Happy Birthday, H!

-        Y/N

Harry smiles to himself and smells the flowers, he couldn’t believe you remembered. He only mentioned it once when his birthday was. Thirty-two was off to a great start. He hangs his jacket up and gets his computer set up. His first class wasn’t until 9AM, so he had some time to prep and wake up a bit more before heading to the lecture hall. He sees you walk by on your way to your office.

“Oh! You’re here!” You had two coffees in your hands. “My gift wasn’t complete yet.” You walk in and hand him his coffee. “Black coffee.” You smile.

“Thank you, the flowers are lovely.”

“Not that I thought you needed more plants in here.” You joke. Harry had a fuck ton of plants in his office windowsill.

“Well excuse me for enjoying nature.” He scoffs, and takes a sip of his coffee. You sit down on the couch in his office.

“Did you have a good weekend?”

“I did, Paige and I took Andy out to dinner to talk about his February break, and it turned into a little surprise birthday thing, it was nice. Can’t remember the last time we did something like that as a family. I mean, we have shared birthday parties for him and stuff, but I think he enjoys when it’s just the three of us.”

“If you don’t mind me asking…did he ever know the two of you as a couple?”

“No.” Harry sighs. “I think he was almost two when she and I called it quits. Now look at us, we’re all going on a ski trip together, including her boyfriend and his daughter.”

“That won’t be weird?”

“Not really, I’ve known Noah a while.”

“How long have they been together?”

“Well, they’ve been a couple for almost three years, but they were friends beforehand. He’s one of the lawyers at the office she works at. He came on, like, a year after she and I split, they were friends for a while, and I think once he knew she and I weren’t getting back together he made his move.” Harry shrugs. “No skin off my nose, I just wanted her to be happy. His daughter Rachel is as cute as a button too.” He takes another sip of his coffee. “Poor thing, her mum died in a car accident when she was really little. Paige is a great mum, so it was a good fit for everyone I think. The only thing I don’t love is that Noah is, like, almost forty.”

“How old is Paige?”

“Almost thirty-four, so it’s not super weird, but…I think that’s another reason why he waited to ask her out, you know?”

“I’m surprised he doesn’t have his own cabin to take her too.”

“Nope, just a massive house on the lake.” Harry chuckles and looks at his flowers again. “Thank you again for these, it was a nice surprise.”

“Oh, don’t mention it.” She sips her own coffee and gets up to go to her own office.

“How’d you know I’d like these?”

“Everyone likes getting flowers, Harry.” She smiles and leaves.

//

Harry had cancelled his classes during the week of Andy’s February break like he always did. He had forum posts for them to work in in his absence. Going to the cabin wasn’t ask awkward as he thought, and it was good bonding for Rachel and Andy. Harry, Noah, and Paige could hear the two of them giggling as they watched movies at night, it was sweet. Harry mostly stuck with skiing with Andy during the day, and he and Paige took him for a run or two as well. As Andy got older co-parenting got easier, for whatever reason. Any lingering feelings between Harry and Paige had simply fizzled into a normal friendship. There was no malice between them which was good for Andy to see.

“Uncle Harry?” Rachel asks one night at dinner.

“Yes, love?”

“How come you have an accent, but Andy doesn’t?”

“Because Andy wasn’t born and raised in a country where people sound like me. Although sometimes you sound like me when you’ve been around me a lot.” Harry looks at Andy.

“My friends tease me for how I say pasta sometimes.” He chuckles. “I say that like you.”

“It’s true! You say taco like Dad too. It’s pretty funny.”

“Well, those are my two favorite foods so it makes sense.”

“How come you have so many tattoos?” Rachel asks.

“Honey, tattoos can be really personal.” Noah explains.

“It’s alright, I got a lot of them when I was younger. Think my last one was when Andy was born, got his initials my forearm.” He extends his arm out.

“Harry.” Paige clears her throat, nodding towards his mermaid tattoo and shakes her head no.

“Oop! Sorry.” He blushes. “Sometimes I forget she’s there.” He chuckles.

“Can we paint nails after dinner, Uncle Harry?” Rachel pleads.

“Sure! Brought that nail kit you and Dad so nicely got for me.”

“Yay! It’s okay, right, Daddy?”

“Of course, princess.” Noah says lovingly towards his daughter.

After dinner, Harry sits with Rachel at the kitchen table, to not make a mess, while Paige, Noah, and Andy sit in the living room watching TV. On the outside looking in the scene may be odd, but this was working well for all of them. Andy was having a good time and that was all Harry cared about.

//

It was a Thursday night, you both swiped right, and you met him at a bar. After a few drinks you climbed into the backseat of his car and before you knew it you were bouncing up and down on his dick while he pressed hot kisses to your neck. His name was Gabriel, and he was just what you needed right now. Or he would have been if he had been able to last a moment longer. You were so close, and he came into the condom before you had a chance to have your own release. He didn’t even ask if you got yours, he just kissed your cheek and lifted you off him.

“Care to take this back to my place?” He says.

“Think I’ve had enough for one night, thanks.” You say as you button your pants back up.

“Let me at least drive you home.”

“No, that’s okay, I can take an uber.” You get out of his car and slam the door shut. He gets out and looks at you, you turn around and look at him.

“Another time?”

“No, I don’t think so.” You say bluntly and his face falls.

“Thought we just had a nice time.”

“You had a nice time because you got to finish.” You huff as you fix your jacket. You take your phone out and order your ride.

“Thought you did, my bad.”

“Right.” The car pulls up, and you get in.

This is why you hated doing things like this. Men on these dating apps just wanted to get theirs. They just wanted a place to stick it and they didn’t care if you were left satisfied or not. You take a nice, long shower when you get back, scrubbing the smell of Gabriel away from you. You grimace when you see the kiss mark he left on your collar bone. Luckily a shirt and scarf would cover it, and it didn’t look like it would last longer than a couple of days anyways.

//

“Well, were you being vocal about what you needed?” Janette asks you as she sits on the edge of your desk Monday morning.

“I said things like right there or like that…he didn’t even warn me that he was coming, he just did. Then he wanted me to come back to his place with him…”

“Maybe he would have put on a better show for you.”

“The previews certainly didn’t leave me wanting to see more.”

“Preview for what.” Harry says, peeping his head in. He had a slight tan from skiing, and it was sort of cute.

“Y/N saw a really bad preview for this movie about this loser, that’s all.” Janette says. “How was your week away?”

“Actually, not too bad. I think it was good for us to all do something together. Andy had a great time, that’s all I cared about. He even agreed to be with his mum for the entire April vacation.”

“Oh? What’s she going to take him to do?” You ask.

“They’re gonna go to New York to see some shows, I thought it was a great idea. It’ll be good for him to get some real culture.”

“And that’s not a trip you wanted to join in on?” Janette smirks.

“Hmm, large cabin where I have my own space or cramped hotel room?” He weighs his option. “I’ll take the bitter cold and the cabin, thanks.”

“What do you think you’ll do while he’s away?” You ask.

“No idea, I’ve got time to figure it out. Honestly, it’s perfect timing because that’s right during advising weeks so I’ll actually be able to help my students without him sitting in the corner complaining that he’s bored.” He rolls his eyes. “I don’t what’s gonna turn my hair grey first, him or the college students.”

“Oh please.” Janette groans. “Men look so much better with a little grey, makes you look distinguished, it’s us who look like old crones when we let our greys out. I don’t wanna hear it.” She shakes her head and looks at her watch. “Gotta get ready for my next class, so you later.”

“Is it true?”

“What?”

“Do men look better with a little grey.” He runs a hand through his hair.

“Depends on the guy, I think. I mean, I’m twenty-six so a little grey wouldn’t scare me away, but I’m not exactly looking for a silver fox.” You laugh and so does he.

“I missed your sense of humor last week. As good of a time it was, I felt like I had to be very careful about the jokes I cracked.”

“Well, no need for a filter here.”

Harry nods and goes into his own office. He thinks for a moment and then peeps his head back into yours.

“So, what movie preview did you see that you didn’t like?”

“What?”

“When I first came in, you and Jan were talking about-“

“Oh! Um, it was so bad I don’t even remember the name.” You tug slightly at your scarf out of nerves.

“Too bad, I could’ve searched it and had a good laugh.” He shrugs and leaves again.

Sometimes you wondered what Harry’s dating life was like, not that it was any of your business. He had mentioned a couple of times he didn’t make a lot of time for it, but what about one night stands? Did he make sure women got theirs when he was with them?

//

“I’m going to look like a fucking idiot compared to all of you.” You pout as you get your robe and hood on.

“You will not. Sort of miss the master’s robe, honestly, they’ve basically got pockets. You’ll have your doctoral one soon enough.” Harry says, putting on his own robes.

“I can never get this thing right, could you help me?”

“Of course.” He steps behind you and adjusts the blue hood for you.

“Do I need the cap? It’s just an honor’s ceremony.”

“You certainly do, and get used to it. This is one of three times a year you’ll need to put this on.”

“Three?”

“Grad commencement and undergrad commencement are separate ceremonies.”

“And we have to go to both?”

“We do.” He sighs. “You’re also not the only professor on this campus that isn’t a PhD yet, so don’t get down on yourself, yeah? You’re working towards it.” You turn towards him and his hands place gently on your shoulders.

“Thanks, Har.”

He smiles at the nickname and lets go of you. You and the other CM professors head over to the CM Honors Inductee Ceremony. It was a nice event for the honors students within the major. As soon as it ends you rip your cap off. You didn’t enjoy wearing it at all. You mingle with a few parents and take pictures with some of the students that wanted you in their photos.

“Y/N?” One of your students, Kayla, says.

“Yes?”

“I was wondering…for our final assignment, instead of writing you a paper about signs, could I make you a video instead?” She was in your Rhetoric and Semiotics class.

“Hmm, I think that could be really interesting. What would a video entail?”

“Well, I thought I could go to the grocery store and show unwritten rules, like how someone will put a divider down on the belt without having to be asked, or how when you go up to the deli you just grab a ticket, how branding works, stuff like that.”

“As long as you still send me a references page I think that could be fine. Of course, I’d have to show it to the rest of the class.”

“Deal.” She smiles. “Thanks.” You nod and then she walks away.

You head back to your office to hang your robe and hood up in your closet. You grab your back and smack right into your Harry.

“Jesus.” You say and back away. “I’m sorry, I didn’t even see you.”

“No, that was me, I was walking too fast.” He unzips his robe and hangs it up same as you in his own closet.

“Why were you in such a hurry?”

“Single mum at the ceremony got a little too liberal with the hugging, had to get out of there.” He chuckles. “You hungry?”

“I could eat.”

“Wanna go down to the pub? I don’t have Andy’s still in New York…”

“Sure! That sounds great, actually. Let me just drop all this off in my car.” He nods and you both walk down to the parking lot before walking the rest of the way to the pub.

You both sit down at the bar and order drinks. You both end up getting Mediterranean wraps, not feeling quite hungry enough for nachos this time around.

“Any summer plans yet? I know it’s early, but-“

“Paige and I need to sit down with Andy to figure all that out. He got to stay with me all year, so it would be make sense for him to be with her for the summer, but I have a feeling he won’t like that. School gets out in June for him so I’ve got some time…but I have a feeling it’s not going to be easy.”

“Why do you think he wants to be with you so much more?”

“I just think he’s at an age where maybe he feels more comfortable being with me. He’ll be eleven soon, changes are starting to happen.” He chuckles. “Maybe Paige and I could split up the summer or something.”

“How have his grades been? Wasn’t that part of the deal?”

“His marks have been great, he’s doing well. He has some great friends and he loves his teachers. He really enjoyed playing basketball this winter in the town league too.”

“Not that I’m an expert on custody agreements, but couldn’t you do what you’re doing now? Wednesdays and every other weekend with Paige, and the rest of the time with you?”

“He hates the back and forth in the summer, that’s why we agreed on summers with me. I mean, she still sees him in the summer, obviously, but he usually doesn’t have to go every other weekend. We’ll see.” He sighs. “We try to give him what he wants to not make waves, but at the end of the day we’re the parents and he’s the child and what we say goes.” He finishes off his drink and asks for another. “Need a refill?”

“Sure, I could probably handle two.” You shrug.

Two turned into three, then, four, and finally five. The sun had gone down and it was dark outside. You two had split a chocolate lava cake. The bar was starting to fill with college students.

“Holy shit, it’s almost ten!” You say. “Should probably go before some of these kids try to buy me a drink for a passing grade.” Harry laughs at that and agrees. You split the bill, and nearly lose your balance as you hop off the bar stool, clutching as his bicep.

“Wanna split an uber? I can’t drive, and I don’t think you can either.” He chuckles.

“Yeah, good idea. I’ll order it.”

“No, I’ve got it.” He takes his phone out as you both head outside. The car pulls up after a couple of minutes and you both get in. “We’ll drop you off first.”

“Alright.” You smile. “This was fun tonight. I like when we get to hang out.”

“Me too.” He smiles at you. “Can’t believe your first year is almost done.”

“I know, it’s really flown by.” You crane your neck from side to side and sigh. “Maybe now that I know the area better I’ll feel more comfortable trying to really meet someone.”

“Meet someone for what?” You look up at him, making a face as if the answer is obvious. “Oh! That’s cute you think you have time for a relationship.” He laughs.

“Excuse me?”

“Y/N, you spend all your free time on your research.”

“I just spent some free time with you, didn’t I? Janette and I go out, and-“

“Janette travels with Sadie in the summers.”

“Guess that leaves me stuck with you then.” You nudge him. “Actually, I’m hoping to go to Boston for a bit, visit friends and family. I’m hoping to get to the beach too. I love summer.”

“You should come hiking with me. Despite the black flies, May is great because it’s not humid yet.”

“Might have to take you up on that, I really enjoyed it this fall.” The car pulls up in front of your house. “Have a good night, Harry.”

“You too.” You both reach over and hug each other. “See you Monday.”

“See you Monday.” You smile and get out.

//

Once the school year was over, you sat with Lisa and went over your course evaluations. Overall you did really well, and she reaffirmed how happy she was that she hired you. She wishes you a happy summer, and that’s about it. You ask if you’re allowed to use your office in the summer, and she says yes but it gets really hot so it’s not as great as you may think.

Saturday night as you’re having your last girl’s night with Janette you get a text.

Harry: Hey! Know it’s last minute, but I’m taking Andy up Rattlesnake tomorrow morning, care to join?

Y/N: sure! As long as he doesn’t mind…

Harry: got his permission already, we’re all set ;)

You bite your bottom lip and smile, and Janette peaks over your shoulder to see what you could be smiling at.

“God, what a gift it would be if I come back in the fall and you two are dating.”

“Oh, stop.” You nudge her. “We’re friends.”  

“Would it be bad to be more?”

“I don’t really think it’s a good idea to go out with someone you work with…”

“Good luck finding anyone else who’s decent around here then.”

“I could meet someone in Boston, do the long distance thing.”

“That gets old.”

“You’re doing it!”

“Yeah, but I’m more of a free spirit. Sadie and I don’t care about marriage or kids or a house in the hills. You, my sweet friend, would like all of those things.”

“True…” You finish your drink. “Well, if I don’t want to puke on this hike tomorrow I should probably get going.” You both stand and hug and kiss and wish each other fantastic summers.

You get a restful night’s sleep, and get yourself ready in the morning. You had invested in a pair of hiking boots in the fall, so you were feeling prepared. You put on a pair of spandex shorts, and put on some mesh shorts over those. You opt for a sweat resistant short sleeve shirt, and pull your ponytail through a baseball cap. You get everything in your small pack that you’ll need: sunglasses, sunscreen, water bottle, granola bar, rag, and bug spray. You drive out to the trail and park, lathering your arms and legs with sunscreen. You see Harry’s car pull up, and Andy hops out, bandana and clip keeping his hair back, just like Harry’s. Harry had a sleeveless shirt on and you could really see the definition in his shoulder muscles. You put your sunglasses on and head over to them.

“Morning, boys.” You smile.

“Morning.” Harry smiles back.

“Hi, Y/N.” Andy mumbles shyly.

“Hi, Andy. Dad told me you’re doing well in school. Bet you’re about ready to be done, huh?”

“Yeah, only a few more weeks.”

“Can’t believe he’s going into sixth grade. Makin’ me feel old.”

“You are old.” Andy giggles.

“Mhm, thanks.” Harry rolls his eyes. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

Andy walks a few paces ahead of you and Harry.

“His birthday is soon, yeah?”

“Yeah, next weekend, actually…um…Paige is hosting his party this year.” Andy looks back at Harry making a face, and Harry makes a face back at him.

“That’ll be fun.” You say, not noticing the exchange as you look at the various trees surrounding you.

“Yeah…it will be. Um…it’s Saturday afternoon…”

“Weather looking good?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s great. Probably still cold to swim at the lake, though, right?”

“Yeah, but the kids will still have a water balloon fight.”

“Dad, just ask her!” Andy groans as he turns around again.

“Ask me what?”

“He wants you to go with him to the party.”

“Andy!” Harry snaps at him. “Keep walking.”

Andy rolls his eyes and continues to walk ahead of you.

“Is that true, you want me to come?”

“Is that weird?”

“Not really.” You shrug. “Although, I’d only know you and Andy.” You chuckle.

“See…it’s just…Paige’s parents will be there, and that’s fine, but Noah’s parents are coming too, and it would be nice to have a buffer other than my son. He’ll be off playing games and eating junk good, I don’t want him to think he needs to babysit me…”

“I totally get it. I don’t think I have plans, I could go for a little while.”

“Really? I’m not asking too much?”

“Not at all, what are friends for?” You smile and he smiles back.

You walk a few paces ahead of Harry, but still behind Andy, giving Harry the perfect view of your bum in your shorts. He wasn’t staring, but he certainly wasn’t not looking. When you get up to the top your jaw drops. The view of the mountains and the lakes were even better in the late spring. You snap a few photos, taking one of Harry and Andy, Harry taking one of you looking out, and then you all sit down for some water and snacks.

“Andy, do you enjoy hiking with your Dad?”

“Yeah, it’s a lot of fun. We go a lot over the summer.”

“Andy’s hiked two of the 4,000 footers, hoping to get a couple more done this summer.”

“Wow! That’s incredible.”

“You should come with us, Y/N. We’re going to camp overnight at one of them.”

“Oh, you don’t wanna go camping with me, I’m a real snob. I need running water and indoor plumbing.”

“It has that.” Harry says, taking a sip of his water. “There’s bathroom, no shower or anything, but working toilets. You bring all your own camping gear. It’s pretty cool.”

“I’ll consider it. Think I should probably go on hikes that are longer than a mile up.” You laugh.

“You guys can do during the week now that school’s over, right?” Andy says.

“I wouldn’t want to exclude you, Andy.” You smile.

“Don’t worry about me.” He crunches down on his granola bar. He shares another look with Harry, but again it goes unnoticed by you, too busy looking out at the beauty of the mountains and lakes.

You all hike down the mountain in not time and say your goodbyes. Harry tells you he’ll text you with more details about the party later in the week.

“I told you she’d say yes.” Andy says from the backseat of the car.

“I wish you had let me work up to it a little more.”

“You were taking too long. Sometimes you just need to pull the trigger, Dad.”

“Is that so?” Harry laughs. “Things are a little more complicated at my age. Sort of awkward asking a colleague out on a date.”

“If you two are friends does that make it a date?”

“Well, she’ll be attending with me, so that makes her my date.”

“Does that mean you’ll kiss her goodnight?”

“Andy!” Harry looks back for a moment and then gets his eyes back on the road. “No, I’m not going to kiss her. You heard her, what are friends for, that’s all she sees me as.” He sighs to himself.

“That’s why you need to step up your game.”

“Son, do me a favor?”

“Yeah?”

“Just, shut up for the rest of the drive home.”

Andy bursts out laughing, but does as Harry asks, knowing he’s being a bit annoying.

//

It was a beautiful day on Saturday, but you were worried about being cold out by the water, so you opt for a pair of high-waist jean capris that flare a bit at the bottom. You find a sleeveless white blouse and pair it with a blue cardigan. You put your hair up in your two buns, and throw on a pair of wedges.

Harry: I’m outside

“Shit.” You say, just finishing your makeup. You run around, grabbing your purse, and the box you had wrapped for Andy’s gift, and head out.

You open the passenger seat and get settled, smiling at Harry.

“You didn’t have to get him anything.”

“I know, it’s just a new basketball. I saw it at WalMart when I was picking up a card. I hate showing up to these things empty handed. What did you get him?”

“A new bike.” He grins. “It’s in his mum’s garage already.”

“Oh! He’ll be so excited. He skateboard too right?”

“Yeah, I really don’t know where he gets his coordination from. Other than skiing I’m pretty clumsy.”

“Don’t you go to a boxing gym?”

“Yeah, and I look like a proper oaf.” He laughs and looks at you. “You look nice by the way. Your outfits are always so put together.”

“Oh, um, thanks.” You blush slightly. You wanted to tell him that you did your hair the way you did because you know he sort of likes it, but you thought that might be a weird thing to say. “Does, um, Paige know you’re bringing me?”

“She does.” Harry nods. “You’re not, like, nervous to meet her are you?”

“No.” You scoff. “Why would I be?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “What did you say to her about me?”

“Well, before I got a chance to say anything last night when she picked Andy up, he spilled the beans.” He rolls his eyes. “So I told her you’re a friend from work…is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s what I am so it makes sense.” You drum your fingers on top of the box to the beat of the music. “None of your family will be there?”

“They’re going to FaceTime in for it. They came for his tenth birthday since it’s a bit more sentimental.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Oh sure, but I love here too much to go back permanently. I like going during winter break, that’s enough.”

“You don’t go during the summer?”

“Sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t. Sometimes they come to visit here during the summer too. My sister has two kids of her own so it’s not always easy to travel.” You nod your head. “You know, I’ve known you almost a year and I don’t know a thing about your family.”

“What’s there to know? My parents are still together, somehow, I’ve got an older brother who’s a sous chef at a restaurant in Boston. He’s not married, but he has a partner and he’s just lovely. I usually stay with them if I go home for a visit.”

“That’s great! How much older is he?”

“He’s around your age, actually, so not a huge age difference.”

“And when’s your birthday?”

“Beginning of August.” You grin.

“Wow, so you had just turned twenty-six when you came to us.”

“Pretty much, got hired at twenty-five, not too shabby.”

“Not at all.”

The conversation went on for the entire drive. That’s how it always was with you two, always a lot to talk about. When you get out of the car you’re able to get a good look at Harry’s outfit. His outfits were usually well crafted, you’d call his style dad-chic. He was in a pair of tan slacks that he had cuffed at the bottom, a pair of white loafers to go with them, a white tank top tucked in with a floral open short-sleeve button up. Very handsome. You smile at each other and then he leads you around back to where the party was. You weren’t the first people there, but you weren’t the last either.

“Dad!” Andy exclaims and runs over to you both. Harry picks him up and swings him around before setting him down.

“Happy birthday, kiddo.”

“Thanks! Look, all my friends from school came.” He points over to them. Harry recognizes Brandon and his father out of the bunch.

“That’s great, bud, let us come in and say hi to everyone, can you say hi to Y/N?”

“Hi, thanks for coming.” He gives you a surprising hug.

“Oh! You’re welcome, Andy. Happy birthday.”

He runs back over to his friends and you walk further into the backyard. It was stunning. Grass that led to sand that led to the lake water. A boat parked further down by the docks, and just gorgeous views for miles. The house itself was huge, you couldn’t believe it.

“Harry!” A woman, who you would assume is Paige, comes waking over. She was beautiful. Shoulder length blonde hair, sort of thin, but not quite a stick. She was wearing a yellow sundress. Her and Harry share a slight hug. “He’s eleven.” She pouts.

“He’s eleven.” Harry agrees with a sigh. “Oh, this is Y/N. Y/N this is Paige, Andy’s mum.”

“It’s so nice to meet you.” She says to you. “Let me take that for you, thank you for bringing him something. I’ll put this with the others.” She takes the box from you. “There’s wine and beer for the adults if you like, but we also have soda and water if you’re not up for drinking. I certainly had a glass after my folks showed up.”

“Did your mother put her white glove on and see if there was any dust?” Harry teases her.

“She may as well have.” Paige rolls her eyes.

Harry puts his hand on the small of your back and leads you closer into the party.

“This is a lovely home.”

“Oh, thank you. I sort of inherited it. It’s was my grandparents’.” She sets your gift on the table with the others. “There’s snacks inside and outside. Feel free to hangout wherever.”

“Where exactly are your parents?” Harry asks.

“Up on the deck.” Paige points up towards it. “Feel free to avoid them as long as you like. They’re speaking with Noah’s parents at the moment. My sister should be here soon.” She looks at her watch. “I’m gonna go check on some things.”

“Alright, love, thanks.” They smile at each other. You get a bad taste in your mouth hearing him call her love, for whatever reason. “Wanna meet some of the parents. I know that guy, Ed, the best. He’s Brandon’s dad, Andy’s best friend.”

“Sure.” You nod and Harry leads you over. “I never quite understood why some parents stay at kids parties.”

“Well…look around you, wouldn’t you wanna hang for a bit?”

“Got me there.”

“Harry, hi.” Ed shakes Harry’s hand.

“Good to see you, this is my friend Y/N, we work together at the university.”

“Hi.” You shake his hand.

“Great to meet you. Brandon was so excited when he got the invite. He and Andy get along so well.” The three of you watch them and the other kids playing tag.

“Born to be friends I’d say.” Harry says.

“Uncle Harry!” A young girl comes running over to Harry and he picks her up, kissing her check, and then setting her down.

“Hi, Rachel, can you say hello to my friend Y/N?”

“Hello.” She beams up at you, a couple of teeth missing. “My grammy and grampy are here.”

“Are they?” Harry says.

“Mhm, I love them a lot.”

“I’m sure they love you too, sweetheart. Are you having a good time for Andy’s birthday?”

“Yeah! We’re going to have a water balloon toss soon.”

“Oh, that’ll be fun!”

“Daddy said he’d be on my team for it.”

“Well, that’s good.”

She smiles again and then runs off.

“Your ex’s boyfriend’s daughter calls you Uncle Harry?” You ask.

“Yeah…she sort of started doing that on her own. She knows I’m Andy’s dad, but I don’t think it quite registers with her yet how we’re all mixed together.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“A glass of white would be great, thank you.” Harry nods and leaves you standing with Ed.

“So, how long have you and H known each other?”

“Well, I started working at the university last August, so less than a year. We’re office neighbors.”

“Ah, how nice. He’s a really great guy, isn’t he? I coach the boys’ basketball team and he was the first to sign up for snack duty.”

“He’s definitely always thinking of others.”

“How long have you been seeing each other?”

“Oh, um, we’re not.” You shake your head. “He just asked me to come with him, ex in laws, you know?”

“Shit, I’m sorry for just assuming.”

“It’s alright.” You assure him. Harry comes over with a glass of wine for you and a bottle of beer for him.

“Sorry that took a moment, I ran into Noah inside and had to do the hellos. Still managed to not bump into Paige’s parents though, so that’s good.” He chuckles, taking a sip from his drink.

“Bad blood?” You ask.

“Even though things between Paige and I are perfectly fine, in their eyes, I’m always going to be the guy that got her pregnant and didn’t make an honest woman out of her.”

“That’s annoying.”

“Very.”

An hour or so passes and then Paige announces that the balloon toss will be beginning soon.

“Dad, be my partner?”

“You got it, buddy. Mind holding my drink?” He says to you.

“Not at all, have fun.” You smile.

More people had come down off the deck so they could watch. Some parents partnered with their kids, and other kids just partnered with kids. Everyone starts about a foot apart. This should be fun, you think, knowing Harry’s competitive nature.

“Would you look at Harry, he looks like an old man from Florida.” You hear a woman scoff.

“Notice how he’s been avoiding us, always a child.” You hear a man say, and this makes you turn towards them. They must be Paige’s parents.

Everyone playing was further apart now, some balloons had popped, but Harry and Andy were still in the game. The balloon pops at Rachel’s feet and she giggles loudly. There were only a few people now. You watch as Harry lobs the balloon perfectly to Andy, and Andy catches it with ease. It was Brandon and his dad vs. Harry and Andy now. Brandon overthrows it, causing the balloon to pop on the sand.

“We won!” Andy shouts running towards Harry.

“Great job.” Harry jostle’s Andy’s hair. Everyone cheers for them.

“What do you say, honey, cake and gifts now?” Paige asks Andy.

“Yeah.” He smiles.

All of the kids sit around a large glass table while Paige goes inside to get the cake. Harry walks back towards you and you hand him his beer.

“What were you saying about you have no coordination?”

“I had to win, it’s his birthday.” He laughs and then stops when he sees Paige’s parents. “Lydia, Nathan, how are you?”

“Oh, are you speaking with us now?” Lydia says playfully, giving him a hug. Harry shakes Nathan’s hand.

“You know how it is when you first get to a party, lots of excitement. I’d find you eventually.” He clears his throat. “This is Y/N, we work together at the university.”

“Hello.” You smile and they both look you up and down.

“How nice for you to bring a friend.” Nathan says, his tone laced with sarcasm.

“I’m gonna go see if she needs help with the cake.” Harry says to all of you, and you also decide to move away from the rude people you were standing with.

Paige and Harry stand on either side of Andy’s chair as everyone sings happy birthday. After cake the gifts come out. Noah takes Harry into the garage to grab the bike.

“Alright…this one is from…Y/N!” Paige says brightly as she hands the gift to Andy. He tears the wrapping paper off and gasps.

“Alright! A new basketball, thank you!” Andy says looking in your direction and you nod with a smile.

“Okay, Andy, Dad and I got you something really special.” Paige says pointing over to Harry who was wheeling the bike over. Andy’s jaw drops.

“Are you serious?!” He stand up and walks over to the bike.

“Know you’ve been wanting it for a while, and your grades have just been so good this year, we just had to do it. Mum’s got a new helmet, elbow and knee pads for you in the house.”

“Thank you so much!” He hugs Harry and then he hugs Paige.

“You’re more than welcome, baby doll.” Paige says to him and then he squirms away from her.

“Mum.” He huffs.

“Right, sorry, not in front of your friends.”

Paige’s sister helps her clean up the remains of the cake while the kids continue to play yard games. You find yourself sitting in a lawn chair when a man you have yet to meet takes the chair next to you, but you recognize him as Rachel’s father.

“We haven’t gotten to meet yet, I’m Noah.” He shakes your hand.

“I’m Y/N, nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.” He smiles. “I was happy to hear Harry was bringing someone with him. Takes a bit of the pressure off.”

“Exactly.” You nod.

“How’d you meet?”

“We’re office neighbors, I started working at the university less than a year ago.”

“Oh! Right, you went hiking with them last weekend.” He says in understanding. “Andy told us. He’s quite the gossip.”

You observe Noah as he speaks. His hair has turned to salt and pepper, definitely had crow’s feet, also wore glasses, but he had a warm and inviting smile, similar to his daughter’s.

“He certainly speaks his mind.” You chuckle. “He’s very sweet though, I have to say.”

“Very sweet. He’s a good kid. It’s nice for Rach to have someone to grow up with a little She adores him, definitely sees him as a big brother.”

“That’s good. I’ve always found blended families to be interesting. You all are doing it well.”

“Took us a while to get to this point, but it’s all been worth it.”

“Y/N?” You both turn to look at Harry. “Party’s starting to dissipate a bit, are you about ready to head out?”

“Sure!” You stand up. “It was nice talking to you.”

“Same here.” Noah stands up and gives Harry a thumbs up without you seeing.

You both say your goodbyes, Andy gives you another hug and says thank you again for the gift. Harry tells him he’ll see him Sunday night, and then you head to his car.

“Hope you didn’t mind when I had to leave to chat a couple of times.”

“Oh, it was fine. I enjoyed just hanging out. It was a beautiful day.” The sun was just starting to set.

“Yeah, I’m glad the weather was nice. I think it’s supposed to rain tomorrow.” He looks at you and then gets his attention back on the road. “You really did look nice today.”

“Thank you, Harry.” You smile and give his shoulder a squeeze.

“Am I…taking you straight home?”

You blink a couple of times before looking at him.

“Where else would we go?”

“Well, I’ve got a back deck of my own. We could sit out, enjoy the sunset…if you want.”

“That sounds nice, actually. Yeah, let’s do that.” You smile.

“Great.”

You notice his jaw and shoulders relax. Were you making him tense? You both listen to the music on the radio as he drives you to his home. You smile as he pulls up. It was a decent size ranch. Cream color paneling and red shutters, very cute.

“Here were are.” He says awkwardly as you both get out.

“Do I get a tour?”

“Of course!”

He unlocks the front door and leads you inside. There was an open concept kitchen and living area. The house smelled like fresh coffee. He noticed you taking a whiff.

“I have an automatic air freshener.” He says and you nod.

“I like it, should get one for my place.”

“There’s a full bath down the hall, Andy uses that, and then I have my own bathroom. Three bedrooms totally, and then you can see I technically have two levels, that’s what I use for my office.”

“It’s a huge loft.”

“Yeah, it’s partially why I bought the place. I didn’t feel cramped. Basement’s partially finished which will be great for Andy when he’s over if he wants to have parties or whatever. Uh, and then the deck is this way. Can I get you anything…I only have red wine, I know you like white…”

“Red’s fine, maybe just put an ice cube in it for me?”

“Can do, make yourself comfortable outside.” He smiles.

You slide the glass door open and smile. It was a decent sized deck. There was a small glass round table with chairs, a grill, and some Adirondack chairs as well. You sit in one of those after taking a glance at the flowers and plants he had in pots. You also notice the various flower beds he had in the yard.

“Here you go.” He says, sitting down next to you, handing you the glass of wine.

“Thank you.” You smile and take a sip. You cross your cardigan over yourself.

“Are you cold? I can get a blanket.”

“Oh, no I’m fine, thanks. It’s beautiful out here.”

“Thanks, took me a while to get it landscaped the way I like.” He lights the citronella candle on the small table between you to help keep any bugs away. “I’ve been thinking of getting an above ground pool for Andy, he loves to swim, but it’s a lot maintenance, and his mum as the lake right there.”

“That house is incredible.”

“Noah’s helped her revamp it quite a bit, and the boat’s his.” He takes a sip of his drink and looks at you. “Thanks again for coming today.”

“Of course, I had a really good time.” You smile.

“You’re not just saying that?”

“Not at all. It was nice to finally meet the people you’ve told me so much about.”

“Are you hungry or anything? I could bring some-“

“Harry.” You put your hand over his that was resting on the arm of the chair. “Relax, yeah? I’m all set, thank you.”

“Alright.” He blushes and looks straight ahead. You notice him check an app on his phone. “Are you free Tuesday morning?”

“I think so, why?”

“Weather’s looking good, how about we go on one of those longer hikes?”

“I’d like that.” You smile. “Anything special I’d need to back.”

“Just a lunch, maybe some T.P.”

“You’re funny if think I’m going to take a piss in the woods.”

“Everyone does it.” He shrugs. “Don’t worry, I’d keep lookout for you.”

“You men have it so easy, you can just whip your things out, go quick, and you’re all set. Me, I’d have to roll my pants down, squat, hope none of it got on my shoes, wipe, and then get dressed again.”

“I’ve had to do that before, sometimes you just need to take a shit in the woods.” You burst out laughing at that. “Course that only happened because I went out drinking the night before.”

“Good to know.” You wipe a tear from your eye. “But seriously, I’d love to go hiking with you Tuesday.”

“I know it was more so Andy that invited you on our little camping trip, but you’re welcome to join in on that if you feel comfortable.”

“I would just feel like I’m intruding on your quality time.”

“You wouldn’t be, he likes you…um…I like you.” Your head snaps in his direction and your eyebrows shoot up. “I mean, like, I like hanging out with you, is all.” He was internally cringing at himself.

“I like hanging out with you too.” You swallow. “I’m glad we’ve gotten to know each other so well. You’ve been a great help with my classes. You’re so progressive, not always using the same syllabus and being willing to make things work for the students. It’s refreshing.”

“Please, go on, the narcissist within me is loving it.” He smirks and you roll your eyes. “Don’t sell yourself short, you’re doing really well. I enjoyed observing your rhetoric class. It was a nice refresher. I hope you won’t work yourself to much this summer. I know it’s more time for research and writing, but it’s also time for you to clear your head.”

“Thanks, I’ll try to keep that in mind.” You finish off your wine just as the sun it setting, the light from the candle being the only thing to keep things bright enough to see.

“I can, uh, bring you home now if you want.”

“I could just get an uber so you don’t have to go out again.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s no trouble.”

Harry drives you home, and you find yourself lingering in the car.

“So…Tuesday?”

“Tuesday.” He smiles. “Bright and early.”

“How early?” You raise an eyebrow.”

“How’s six sound? I’ll come pick you up, we’ll get to the trailhead by 6:30. It’s always better to summit earlier in the day.”

“You’re the expert.” You shrug. “Works for me.”

You both lean across the console to give each other a hug a goodbye, like you normally would, only this time…you press your lips to his cheek before getting out of the car. His gaze stays fixed on you, and it’s not until you’re inside your building where he lightly presses his fingers to his cheek to feel where you kissed him.

[gureishi]

Wow...the prompts? They're all good. Can you write something angst for Jumin and a female MC, with number 11? I don't mind NSFW. Congrats on 100. You deserve them all and more! 💜😌

TruUUEE. You are too good to me as always. Thank you for saying so ♡

And thank you for this wonderful prompt, and giving me an excuse to write about vulnerable Jumin—my favorite Jumin!

This “ficlet” sprawled into an absolute monstrosity because I got carried away with tearful Jumin and then it got sexy and...oh dear.

eleven: i could only be myself with you around

JuminXReader, E (oral sex, fingering), words: 3887

Warning: NSFW (eventually, I swear)~ Don’t proceed if you don’t wanna read smut <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・

When he comes home, his eyes are dark.

You look up from your book; you’re incredibly comfortable on the couch, a blanket tucked around your legs, a cup of tea beside you. There’s a fire in the fireplace and the room is finally just the temperature you like it. You were feeling sleepy.

You’re not feeling so sleepy anymore.

He shuts the door, too hard, and his posture is stiff as crosses the living room with a few purposeful strides. 

“Hi, honey,” you say, and your voice comes out reedy and thin, because you know something is wrong.

He looms over you, and you don’t feel scared—never scared, not of him—but you can’t help but look down, fidgeting with the fringe on the blanket. He kisses your forehead and it feels cursory; you feel a little pang of annoyance. He still hasn’t said anything to you.

Briefly, his hand lingers on the top of your head, and momentarily, you’re comforted—this is a habit. But then he moves away, walking with that same fast, stilted pace. He’s still wearing his shoes.

“Jumin,” you say to his back. He hesitates, and you suppose you’ve taken him by surprise—he’s honey or darling more than he’s Jumin, and you know your voice sounds strange. But he is strange tonight; you’ve waited up for him, and on an ordinary day his eyes would light up, his face splitting into the warm, soft smile he reserves just for you. You feel its absence like a tug behind your ribcage.

“I need a moment,” he says at last, and his voice is oddly high-pitched, like he hasn’t caught his breath.

You kick the blanket off your knees, upsetting your book as you stand.

“What’s…”

He disappears into the bedroom, shuts the door.

“…wrong,” you finish, lamely.

What?

Suddenly, the room doesn’t feel so cozy; the off-white (“winter wood,” Jumin says it’s called) walls feel bare and too far apart and the ceiling feels too high and the perfectly-arranged furniture seems cold and uninviting. You trace his footsteps, silent in your stockinged feet.

You’ve only lived in this new house together a few months, and the excitement hasn’t quite worn off. Most days when you’re home before he is, he arrives in a hurry and sweeps you into his arms, dipping you low and kissing you earnestly. There have been days he’s come home tired, of course, or worried—and on those days, you’ve put on a record and shared a bottle of wine, hands intertwined under one of your many soft white throw blankets.

Today, he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

“Honey…?” You linger at the door, press your ear against it. Nothing. “You’re worrying me,” you say. You hear shuffling, the familiar sound of him removing his jacket, laying it on the pile for the dry cleaner. “I’m coming in,” you tell him, louder—because it is your bedroom, too, and your heart is in your throat. 

Silence. You push open the door.

He hasn’t turned on any lights, and it takes a moment for your eyes to adjust. Your husband is sitting on the edge of the bed, his jacket off, his head bent, his face in his hands. He’s still wearing his stupid shoes.

You want to bend over him and kiss the very top of his head, tickle his sensitive sides till he smiles. But everything about him says stay away: the angle of his head and the rigidness of his shoulders. The way his sleeves are still buttoned as if he isn’t in his own home.

You take a hesitant step toward him and at least he doesn’t stop you.

“Darling, will you please talk to me?” you say. He looks so small to you then: vulnerable and afraid.

For a moment, he’s quiet, and you think that he may continue to ignore you. Then you notice that his broad, muscular shoulders are shaking. It’s barely perceptible, but you see it.

“I cannot be with you right now,” he says at last, his voice muffled by his hands. “If I am with you I will cry.”

That does it. Throwing caution to the wind, you leap onto the bed, jarring him a little. He peers up at you out of the corner of his eye and you’re shocked to see that it is, in fact, slightly red-rimmed.

“Then you should cry,” you say. “It’s what I’m here for.”

He hesitates, and you watch him do battle with himself for a moment, torn between instinct and impulse, old habits and new routines. You wait, letting him decide.

At last, the side of him that has been gradually unfurling since the day you met him wins. He raises his head from his hands and reaches for you, holding his arms out like the lonely child you know he once was.

And you are relived, because this is the man you married.

With perhaps slightly too much enthusiasm, you crawl into his lap, draping your legs to one side and wrapping your arms around his neck. It’s taken time for him to adjust to this kind of full-body contact—it’s as alien to him as it natural to you. Still, he rests his head against the crook of your neck.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and his lips brush your skin, making you squirm. “I would never want to make you worry.”

You play with the back of his collar with your fingertips. “Sometimes I will worry, because I love you,” you say. “Just please don’t hide from me.”

He tilts his head so he can—finally—look at you properly. His steely gray eyes are glazed over and you know this look, though you haven’t seen it in a long time.

“Tell me what you’ve been holding back all day,” you say, as he reaches up with a long finger to brush the hair off your forehead—another familiar gesture, which soothes you.

He adjusts a little so he’s cradling you, one arm over your shoulders, the other under your legs. He leans his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. He’s stalling for time, but you don’t mind—his chest is warm and solid through his perfectly-pressed shirt and you take the opportunity to bathe yourself in his warm woody scent. He’s working so much lately, more than usual, and sometimes when you’re home alone in the evening you spritz his cologne in the air so you feel less lonely. You don’t tell him this.

“May I ask you a question, my love?” he says. He still has that closed-off look in his eyes but he sounds more like himself, deep and warm and wonderful.

“Of course.”

“When you met me, was I…” He clears his throat, awkwardly fiddles with his cufflinks. You gently separate his hands, remove the cufflinks. Unbutton the sleeves. “Was I…not a good person?”

You drop the cufflink. It falls to the floor with a jarring clink. You’re not sure what you were expecting, but that wasn’t it. You bend over, reaching for the little piece of metal; he stops you with a firm hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “Please tell me what you think.”

No, you almost respond automatically. No, I thought you were wonderful. But the look in his eyes begs a more thoughtful answer than that. With practiced fingers, you roll up one of his shirt sleeves. You run one finger up his forearm, from his wrist to his elbow, tracing the tense muscles there.

“When I met you, I thought you were frighteningly smart and stunningly beautiful,” you say. You roll up his other sleeve, carefully folding the silky smooth fabric. “I’d never met anyone like you before. I was impressed by you, and I also thought you looked like you needed a gentle slap on the face and then a really good, tight hug. Does that…make sense?”

You tug his perfectly-tucked shirt out of his pants. You can’t stand him looking too put-together at home. He can do that everywhere else; home is for comfort.

“It…does,” he says slowly. “But I think perhaps you were the only one with that opinion of me.”

You look into his face and are startled to see tears at the corners of his eyes. You’re not sure you’ve seen him cry since your wedding day.

“Will you tell me what happened today?” you ask, wiping away the tears with your fingertips. He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath—he is breathing in your scent just as you did his, you think.

“In truth, it was nothing of note.” He goes for his sleeves again, realizes you’ve rolled them up. Instead, he settles his hands at your waist, threading his fingers through your belt loops. “I had lunch with a…former colleague. He is the president of a Chinese company, and I haven’t spoken to him in several years.”

Ah. “And you felt like the version of you he was expecting to see and the person you are now aren’t the same?”

Jumin actually laughs at that, his eyes growing wide. There’s a little of his usual ardor behind them now.

“You, my dear, know me far better than I know myself.”

“I know I do.”

You kiss his eyebrow and he covers both your hips with his big hands. You trail kisses down the side of his face, kiss away the last of the tears that have formed at the inner corners of his eyes.

“I felt as though he was speaking to a man who no longer exists,” Jumin says, closing his eyes; you kiss his eyelashes. “I felt the urge to tell him so. I felt angry. And then I felt…” He trails off.

“Grief?” you offer. You continue your trajectory, feathering kisses down the bridge of his nose. You kiss his cupid’s bow and he groans, low in his throat, barely audible.

“How strange,” he says. “Why should I feel grief for myself?”

“It’s normal to grieve the ways in which parts of you disappear over time,” you say. You lift a hand to his neck, undo his tie. It slips easily through your fingers; you’ve done this so many times before.

He exhales heavily, and it’s sad and relieved and needy all at once.

“And then I felt afraid,” he says. “Because I knew I would come home to you and feel the things I had been trying not to feel all day. Because that, my darling, is what you do to me.”

“Sounds like your feelings scared us both a little bit today,” you say. His tie is off; you toss it aside. It joins the stray cufflink on the floor.

“Feelings can be very frightening,” he says. He’s been still this whole time; suddenly, he springs to action as if he’s been waiting for his moment to pounce. His hands skim over your sides, grasp your shoulders, turning you firmly so you’re twisted in his lap—nose-to-nose with him.

“I would like to take a warm shower,” he says. His gaze is unwavering and you melt a little. “I would like you to join me,” he adds.

He doesn’t phrase it like a question, but you know it is. It always is, with him—his eyes ask for your acquiesce and his hands on your shoulders are tentative, waiting for your answer.

“Take me there,” you say. He lifts you easily, carries you in his arms as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. His knitted eyebrows say otherwise—he’s holding himself back, his hand clenching at your shirt as if it’s taking all his patience not to tear it off.

He sets you down gently on your feet on the cool, clear tiles of the master bathroom. He’s gone in an instant: dimming the light, turning on the shower. It’s such a huge shower—you were shocked the first time you saw the designs. It has three faucets and a marble bench for sitting, or shaving your legs, or…other activities.

“Do you want to undress me or do you want to watch?” you ask him, playfully striking a pose—knowing he loves the choice, loves to feel he has you in the palm of his hand.

He looks you up and down, pupils huge, hair delightfully disheveled—for Jumin, anyway—one stray lock hanging over his eyes.

“I want to watch,” he says, and there’s none of the coldness in his voice now, only chocolatey depth and unbidden desire.

So you undress for him, to the rainforest rushing sound of the shower’s many faucets, turning as you lift your shirt over your head, wriggling out of your pants slowly, revealing just a strip of skin at a time. You give him a cheeky glance of the lacy strap of your underwear, of your hips, of your ass, which (you know because you check in the massive mirror hanging over the door) is framed adorably by your gauzy thong.

“I am running out of patience,” he says—growls—and you feel a hot, wonderful flush creeping up the back of your neck.

“Then come get me,” you say.

So he does, crossing the large bathroom and unhooking your bra in one smooth motion. He tears it from you and throws it to the ground. He spins you to face him and his dark eyes are simmering, his grip on your shoulders tight—but still restrained, not painful. Never painful.

“Do you want to know what image I couldn’t get out of my mind on the drive to work this morning?” he whispers, and you shiver.

“I do.”

He slides your thong down your legs, planting searing kisses over your hips, your thighs, your calves, your ankles. He’s kneeling at your feet now and the sight of him there, his beautiful head bent, almost drives you mad.

“I’ll show you,” he says. Then he’s on his feet again and he’s unbuttoning his shirt—with much more patience than he claims to have—slowly, scrupulously, as if to torture you both.

“Now I’m impatient,” you say, and you go for his belt. He laughs as you struggle to unhook it and the laugh turns to a low moan as your hands graze his erection, straining against his fitted vicuña pants. You deal with the buckle and make quick work of the pants, draping them over the sink—you don’t care what Jumin says, these pants are much too expensive to throw in a heap on the bathroom floor.

Now you’re the one kneeling before him, and he does a double-take as he sees the position you’re in. Even now, after all this time, after getting married, after moving into your custom-built home, he blushes. It’s this—his unexpected innocence, his charming traditionalism—that never fails to bewitch you.

“I will if you want me to,” you say, slipping his Swiss cotton underwear over his hipbones with adoring hands. He stands absolutely still, but you feel his hips trembling.

“I want you to,” he whispers. So you take him in your mouth—just the tip at first, moving your tongue in a circle, running a hand down his length. He moans again, low, breathy. You feel his muscles stretch as he reaches up, grabs onto the top of the glass shower door.

You slide his cock further into your mouth, one hand still at the base, and he mutters something you don’t understand. You breathe in and out slowly, creating suction as you pull away and then take him deeper. It stirs something in you—the cold tiles on your bare knees, the power you feel in having him at your mercy. He exhales, low and slow, and you feel stimulated and little and somehow totally in control.

With one hand, you cup his balls, gently massaging. Your eyelids flutter shut and you feel your hips and pelvis moving along with your lips as you slide him in and out—your own body already feeling hot and tingly, craving friction.

He mutters again and you can’t quite hear him. You run your tongue along his length, and his body shudders. He tries again. “I-if you continue like this, I won’t be able to…”

You let him slip from your lips.

“Do you want to come right now?” you ask and he groans.

“Yes, but I—” You slide your tongue all the way around his tip and he stumbles over his words. “Of course, but you…I want—”

You take him all the way into your mouth again and he stops speaking, letting out a low growl, tensing as he grips the door. He’s close, and you want to make him come, want to do it like this, him a twitching, shaking mess looming above you—you at his feet with the power to break him.

You round your lips, suction harder, pull him deeper, and his hips give a telltale jerk. Ah-ha. Your own body feels floaty and loose—you can barely feel the floor under your knees now. He tries to warn you in a throaty voice and you ignore him, raking your fingernails over his ass. He comes, rocking into your mouth, and you open your eyes to take him in—he looks ravished, all restraint dissolved, all presence of patience demolished as he shuts his eyes and unabashedly shakes against you. You swallow everything, so hopelessly turned on by his unbridled pleasure.

He pulls himself out of your mouth with a groan and reaches for you, tousling your hair with a shaky hand.

“You look so beautiful right now,” you tell him, and he does—perfect hair unkempt, muscular shoulders glimmering with sweat.

“I still haven’t shown you my fantasy,” he pants, and then his arm is around your waist and he’s scooped you up again. You squeal as he slings you over his shoulder, and you feel warm water hit your back as he lifts you into the shower. He sets you down tenderly on the marble bench, and it’s slick and just the perfect temperature, already warmed by the water and steam.

“Open your legs,” he murmurs, and you do, feeling a clenching inside, your swollen clit demanding attention.

Jumin turns away from you and you whine in dissatisfaction. He laughs, low and wonderful; the water runs in rivulets over his toned back. He’s back in an instant, the detachable shower head in his hand, and you cannot help the little whimper that tears from your throat.

“I wonder what will happen if I use this to stimulate you…” he says, his deep voice trailing off seductively. Your thighs twitch in anticipation.

“I–I would also—” He runs a finger over your already-sensitive clit and you hiss. “—l-like to know that,” you manage to choke out.

He twists the knob on the shower head so the water flows gently, tapering toward the middle. He runs it over you from a distance and it’s warm and lovely; he moves it closer and closer until you yelp, feeling the water pressure at your core. It shakes you.

“Good?” he murmurs and you nod, shutting your eyes against the glaze of heat you feel building from within. “More?” You nod again and the water changes; it’s more tapered, stronger. You squirm, your hands scrabbling for purchase on the smooth bench beneath you. He sees what you need and suddenly his warm, slick fingers meet yours, entwining with them. He moves the faucet in a dainty circle and you feel like your eyes are going to roll back in your head. “More?”

You gasp a “yes” and the pressure ramps up again and you writhe, feeling like you will explode. You feel another, new sensation and your eyes shoot open—it’s his finger, slipping over your clit and then inside you. You cry out.

“Too much?”

“N-no, I…no…please…” You’re babbling, but he knows what to do. He moves the faucet closer, the pressure on your clit intensifying and the heat you feel nearly blinding you. Then his finger moves inside you and your back arches and you’re slipping, slipping, and you feel him move closer and you throw out your other arm and brace yourself on his chest.

“How does that feel?” he whispers, and you know he’s doing this on purpose, know he’s trying to make you talk to hear the sweet sounds you’ll make, know he’s aware how the multitasking makes your head spin.

“I—I…it…ummm…Jumin!” you manage, gasping as he curls his finger inside of you, flicking the thin, hard stream from the faucet over you again and again and…

“Tell me how it makes you feel,” he commands, and you stammer, gasping for air, and he curls his finger again, hitting your g-spot as the stream of water stills, focused directly on your tender, throbbing clit.

“Ah—!” is all you manage before you fall apart, your back hitting the shower wall as you come hard and fast, the ice cold heat at your core tearing you to pieces. Through the haze, you think you cry out again, and his finger moves incessantly within you and the water makes you see bright shards of white through your closed eyelids.

You gasp, coming down slowly, trembling all over. You squint your eyes open and his face is so close to yours, his eyes full of awe and lust and adoration. He slips his finger out and diverts the faucet away from you. You catch your breath, head swimming.

“So,” you say finally, when you have enough breath to speak. “You fantasied about making me come with the shower faucet?”

“Yes, of course,” he responds, tilting his head quizzically, the water from the main faucet cascading over his shoulders as he stands up straight. “Is that so strange?”

You laugh. “It’s not,” you say. He offers you a hand and you stand too, slipping and sliding until you find purchase on the grippy strips lining the bottom of the tub.

“Now,” he says in a businesslike tone. “Would you like to wash off, get dry, and then have sex in the bed?”

Your face breaks into a grin because that’s so very Jumin and god, you love him for it.

“Yes,” you say, and you reach for the soap, pouring a fragrant stream of it onto your hand. “But can I ask you a question first?”

“Anything, my love.” He adjusts the second faucet so it’s more accessible for you.

“Earlier, when you said you couldn’t be around me…”

“Ah,” he says—and his serious expression is somewhat offset by the way the water glues his hair to the sides of his head, somehow silly and sexy at the same time. “I meant that I’m able to keep up a façade as long as I’m not around you. As soon as you’re by my side, I feel.” 

You press up against his back, letting the soap spill through your fingers. You kiss the smooth, warm skin there and he sighs contentedly.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, and you almost can’t hear him over the rushing water. “Thank you for allowing me to feel.”

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

Tiny baby first attempt at a taglist~ Please let me know if you’d like to be added! DM me and I’ll add you so you’ll be tagged in any mysme writings. ♡

@currentlyprocrastinating @thesirenwashere  @ultrasupernini @cro0kedme @otomefoxystar @dawn-skies06

[thefanficmonster]

Never Satisfied [Chapter 2]

Corpse Husband x Original Female Character

Warnings: Language

Collaboration between Vy & Ashens 🖤

“this chick is crazy...and I kinda dig it“

It’s been four days since the incident and he’s all but forgotten about it, removed it from his memory entirely as if girls hide from police in his car on a regular basis. 

Today is colder than usual, and his body has been quick to respond to the change, aching around the joints. Some days it’s impossible to move, feeling his clothes and sandpaper and housing spikes as joints. Thankfully, today isn’t that bad, the pain is rather manageable. Which checks out well for him, considering he has to do some cleaning around his apartment. His skin itched at the sight of the mess his living space has become over the last few weeks he hasn’t been bothered to pick up the strewn about items or wash the dishes in the sink. 

Standing in his living room, he turns in a circle, taking in the disaster that is surrounding him. His chest tightens, throat closing up due to the overwhelmingness of the work he has ahead of him while all he wants to do is hide in his room, under the blankets of his bed that is for sure not willing to offer him much comfort at the moment, seeing as how it too is a mess. 

Forget about that! He isn’t sure if his mind is telling him to forget the task he has at hand or the comfort he has in mind. Either way, he knows what the right thing to do is. It may give him anxiety, but it has to be done. 

He clenches his jaw and closes his eyes, taking deep measured breaths and exhaling slowly just like his doctor had instructed him to do, in hopes to ease the tension around his lungs. 

Calming down a bit, he finally decides to get on with it, starting with the smallest space he has to clean, hoping accomplishing a small victory would fuel his ambition to move onto the actual rooms with a lesser struggle. So, pulling on his favorite hoodie and a beanie over his black curls, he slips out of the front door and down the stairs of his apartment complex with a trash bag in hand. He may hate cleaning, but he hates messes more, therefore it’s an easy call to make. Easy when putting the two in comparison, a struggle when he actually has to get on with the process of cleaning. 

With a deep breath as a final ‘You got this’ before action, he unlocks his car doors and looks around its interior. He starts off with the junk in the front - first tending to the passenger seat where he finds a couple plastic bags and a few water bottles. He keeps the area around the driver’s seat clean as can be, so he skips that side. Unfortunately, now he has to turn to the nightmare that is the backseats. 

While it may be tame, compared to most, the three paper bags, five disposable coffee cups that he’d dropped to the floor are more than enough to annoy him. He also makes a frustrating find of a hoodie, a few shirts, a hat, and what appears to be a forgotten CVS bag of medication. Much to his dismay, there’s more: handfuls of old receipts that he is now shoving into the garbage bag he has in hand along with straw wrappers, a few stray cold fries dating back to God-knows-when. He sighs, somewhat relieved to see the backseat is doing a lot better now than it was a couple minutes ago, though it’s not even entirely clean just yet. Something catches his eye though - a choker that was probably covered by one of the clothing items he had found. He picks it up, turning it over in his hand. It’s made of soft leather with a gunmetal ”C” and a pentagram embossed on it. It has a leather braided cord on both ends to tie together and no price tag or brand to indicate its origin. He can’t remember buying this...but then again, retail therapy is a thing and it wouldn’t be the first time he forgot a purchase. He gives it one final once-over before shrugging and pocketing it. After collecting the headphones he’d also dumped in the back and retrieving a pair of boots from the trunk, he locks up his car and heads back into the building, mentally preparing himself for facing the terror of cleaning his apartment.

Returning to his place after tossing the trash in the dumpster along the way, Corpse locks the front door behind him and proceeds to drop the things he’s brought back near the front door. 

This defeats the purpose of cleaning up in the first place, Corpse. He scolds himself but that’s what it remains at - just a scold. He slips the hoodie off his torso, but pauses when the leather collar falls to the floor. Tossing the clothing item on a dining room chair behind him, he picks up the choker and, without as much as a second thought, places it around his throat just below his Adam’s apple The metal feels cool against his skin and as he ties the leather cords at the back of his neck the corners of his lips curve upwards just a little. 

I probably look stupid. He thinks to himself. Corpse tries not to look much at his own reflection, mostly because it’s a reminder of how little sleep he gets with the dark circles and worn out, exhausted eyes staring back at him whenever he looks. But when he catches a glimpse of himself in his peripheral on his way to piss, he admires his reflection, or more so the way the black leather stands out across his pale skin. He’s gotta admit, it looks pretty cool. Edgy. Very urban. Goth maybe? But he still prefers the chains he’s known to wear over chokers.

After doing his business, he starts heading toward his office with the intention of recording a new story for his channel if he manages to find a decent submission - and also to ignore the cleaning he still had to do eventually - when the sound of someone banging on the door of his neighbor’s apartment makes him jump, thinking the sound was coming from his door instead. Being the nosey bitch he is, he creeps to his door, listening to the muffled and almost completely incomprehensible voices from across the hall. The screaming match taking place is making him rather nervous and anxious and as much as he’d rather hide in his room and pretend he never heard or saw anything, he also doesn’t want the altercation to escalate into anything physical. 

“You fucking bailed on me!” An angry female shout dominates over the other voice, a male one, that’s quick to follow the previous example with the tone volume.

“You almost got caught, it's not my fault you screwed up!” It’s the male’s turn to shout, his words intriguing Corpse.

Got caught? Screwed up what?

“Fuck you! You don’t just ditch like that! That’s such a dick move!” 

Ditched? If it wasn’t for the ‘getting caught’ part I would’ve thought it was a flopped date?

“I wasn’t about to get arrested for your klepto ass! I’m done with your shit!” The male voice takes the upper hand again, and though the female attempts to speak, she’s promptly cut off by the male, “No! No, I said I’m fucking done! Get the fuck out of my apartment!” A loud bang that sounded remarkably like a chair being flipped over made Corpse jump again with his thoughts once again racing to try and make sense of the situation. 

Klepto? So she’s a thief. Great. He rolls his eyes, not that he needed a reminder that he lives in a bad neighborhood, but he sure got it. He inhales slowly, finally deciding to check the aftermath in the hallway. Again, it isn’t his business whatsoever, but he can’t rest easy until he knows there isn’t an injured person outside his door right now. He peeks out the peephole before unlocking the door and sticking his head out to see a long haired individual still standing in front of his neighbor’s door. They have their back turned to him and are getting prepared to start banging on the door once again. 

“Little scared-ass bitch! I’ll be back for my shit!” She screams, kicking the door to punctuate her point. 

This chick is absolutely nuts. Everything in his gut is telling him to turn around and go back inside but his brain’s less-rational side is convincing him to check on her. He carefully steps into the hallway, swallowing nervously as he reaches out to tap her shoulder. “Are um-...you okay?”

The girl whips around, a furious expression on her face. Corpse makes a pause, his eyes widening at the sight of that familiar face.

Holy shit, I know this girl. 

Standing in front of him is the girl who leaped into the backseat of his car only a few days ago. 

Shit! What are the odds? 

She’s wearing a pair of black skinny jeans and a cropped sweatshirt with the quote “Mercury’s in Gatorade or Some Shit” written in bold letters and a solar system around it, with a leather jacket on top. 

His mouth dries when he makes a realization... 

Oh fuck. She’s way prettier in the natural light instead of that ugly light I saw her in that night. 

“Oh hey! Parking lot guy! What are y-...is that my choker?” She interrupts herself, looking closer at the black leather on his pale skin, her brows furrowing. He’d forgotten he was even wearing it to be honest, but she seems to recognize it. “That’s my fucking choker, dude! I’ve been looking everywhere for it!” She reaches up seemingly with the intention of taking it off him, causing his whole body to freeze up.

Finally finding his senses, Corpse takes half a step back, eyes slightly widened, “Woah, hey! Easy there, I’m pretty sure I bought this.” He warns, hands hesitantly held out in front of himself to try and create some distance between them. 

She seems not to take the hint at his desire for personal space as she reaches out again, stepping closer. “No, I made it with my own two hands, man! It’s got a C on it for my name - Cora.” She says sharply to the point of anger that honestly frightens him a bit. 

He quickly unties the leather straps, removing it from his neck. However, he refuses to give it back so easily as he holds it up out of her reach. 

Maybe if it isn’t on me she won’t be all up in his personal space. Yeah, it’s a bit evil, but he didn’t care. Besides, part of him is still mad about the fact she used his car as a hiding spot, shooting his anxiety through the roof in the process. 

“I feel like you owe me for those fries you stole last time we saw each other. Make it up to me and I’ll give it back. If it’s even yours, that is...” He says, brows furrowing slightly and eyes narrowing as he takes another step back. “And, you know, for nearly getting me busted by the police for something I wasn’t even a part of.” 

Sure, he was talking but her eyes are wandering analyzing him: first the silver chains around his neck that glimmer in the light and his dark hair, strands dangling carelessly as a curtain over his face. 

He too finds himself admiring her, memorizing her features better in this light. She has olive skin and sports a little bit of a tan. Stray locks of wavy dark brown hair hang around her ears having come loose from her messy bun. She has earthy brown eyes with flecks of green that he can’t help but stare at, despite their current sharpness. Her right arm is decorated with a few small tattoos: a skull of some sort of animal that appears to be puking flowers; a small cartoon t-rex floating via many colorful balloons and a brain with a spiky spiral in the center of it. She has a single line drawn around her pinky finger on the hand of the other arm and the shadowy silhouette of a forest around her wrist. However, the one thing Corpse could see better than all of that, was she is pissed. 

“Gimme my fucking choker back! I paid you for those fries, it’s not my fault you spent them on douchebag lessons!” She snaps, hopping to try and grab his arm. 

She is pressed up against him now, a wave of perfume hitting him when she attempts another jump. He holds the choker higher, maybe even subconsciously, just enjoying the warm presence of another body for as long as possible - not that he’d admit that. 

Corpse’s brief content comes crashing down as he stumbles backwards when he feels something hard on his hip and her hands grabbing at the front of his shirt. 

“Wait-“ He tries to say, but is cut off when a good amount of weight pulls at his jeans. “Oh Fuck!” He rasps out, dropping the choker as he slams onto the floor. In the split second he spared to take a breath, his pants had been yanked down to his knees and his neck was crooked up against his door. He’s now lying on the floor as the girl hovers over him having landed with her hand on top of his head and one leg over his chest while the other is pinning his arm down.

While remaining unmoving under the girl, he takes a moment to let the previous five seconds sink in before replaying them in his mind:

This small woman, Cora she said her name was, had put the boot clad toes of her left foot into the pocket of his baggy jeans to use as a stepping stool. In turn, they were shoved down, effectively pantsing him and tearing the pocket before knocking them both to the floor. 

Corpse leans against his door, jeans still around his knees, hair a mess as he watches Cora stand up from where she’d practically tackled him and equip the choker. 

“Serves you right.” She sticks her tongue out, tying the piece of jewelry behind her neck. “Now get up before someone calls the cops, we both know what happens then.” She rolls her eyes and bends down, offering her hands to help him up after he situated his trousers.

“Ah-um...I-...” anxiety started reigning in his chest and head as he realized everything that had happened. He takes both her hands and she uses all her weight to pull him up. Her pull was so strong that when he stood up, he had to hold her tight to keep her from falling back. He stabilizes her, maybe a little too hard because her chest collides with his. He apologizes under his breath, releasing her hands quickly. “Don’t people buy dinner first before yanking off their pants?” He snorts, trying to make light of the situation and crossing his arms over his chest. “But then again, you stole my dinner.” 

“Are you insinuating I should take off my pants?” She asks with a smirk. 

Corpse nearly chokes on his own inhale, eyes wide as he quickly looks away.

Oh my god is she serious? “N-no!” He says, perhaps too quickly. Too loudly. His cheeks turned dark pink as he gapes at her for a moment before furrowing his brows again. He hunches his shoulders a little, doing his best to avoid those sharp hazel eyes. 

She’s pretty. Way too pretty for him and now she has him all flustered. This girl has way too much power over the agoraphobic anxiety bundle that is Corpse. 

“Oh so you’re insinuating that I should buy you dinner since I took off your pants?” She prompts, eyes narrowing with a delighted little smirk on her face. She has to be enjoying watching him squirm in embarrassment, otherwise, why would she keep asking questions like that? Of course she does. She is like every other girl in his life.

“I’m..-just...Forget it.” He mumbles, shrinking back away from her as he turns to go back inside the safety of his apartment. 

She’s probably making fun of me. Great, as if I didn’t have enough self-esteem issues already.

Before he could get inside, a hand grabs his shirt at the small of his back. “Hey, I’m just fucking with you, dude.” She says, giving the shirt’s fabric a tug. 

He turns and looks at her with wary eyes, wondering if she was trying to goad him into falling for her taunting again. But the ice in her gaze has melted and she gives him a crooked smile. “Lemme buy you dinner to pay you back. It’s the least I can do after you helped keep my ass out of jail.” She releases his shirt after a brief moment of reluctance and then offers her hand to him for a handshake. “Oh, I should introduce myself, officially this time. I’m Cora.” 

Corpse looks at her hand and carefully takes it. She has small hands and his long fingers practically engulfed hers as he shakes it lightly. He gives her his name in return and she smiles that light filled, beaming smile he remembers from the car. 

“Nice to, um- meet you, I guess.” He finds himself staring at her, unknowingly still holding her hand in his until she looks up and grins a little wider. 

“This seems like a roundabout way to hold my hand, bro. You could have just asked,you know.” She teases, but this time it felt okay, his embarrassment having faded slightly, but he still hurries to look away and release his hold on her. 

Corpse murmurs a quick apology, but before he could stick his hand back into the ripped pocket of his jeans, she takes hold of it again, tugging him forward. “Come on, lock your door. I’ll buy you something to eat. You drive though.” She lets go of his hand after a moment and, much to his surprise, he catches himself missing the warmth that it provided him while it was there. Turning, he ducked into his apartment to grab his hoodie and keys, feeling suddenly thankful he’d cleaned his car out.

Taglist: @vixenl  @fockingwhore

[trashforhockeyguys]

Vienna Waits For You -3- William Nylander

A/N: So I think this counts as the start of their friendship? Or at least them no longer hating each other. As always, all previous parts are linked in my masterlist! Enjoy!

The apartment was quiet, save for the sound of the old game she was trying to watch. Frustrated, Avalyn took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes, hoping the screen would stop being blurry if she just took a second away from it. She could very easily be out with some other members of the cast, drinking and having a great night. Or she could be like Jackson, who seemed to be spending a lot of time with various members of the team. 

It was good for him though, he didn’t have many guys around him that understood the game that he devoted many years to. She often wondered if Jackson regretted giving up hockey so he could act instead. She remembered his last game, the way he looked so defeated when the buzzer sounded, despite the fact that they’d won. 

The knock on her door was enough to pull her away from her little hockey bubble. Maybe Jackson decided to stop by after all. She didn’t bother trying to make herself look any better, after all, Jackson witnessed her looking far worse than this.

William shifted his weight, hoping she wouldn’t slam the door in his face. Especially not after he literally ran to go find ice cream. He figured Jackson’s tip couldn’t hurt. He’d been a dick to her, so he wouldn’t blame her if she refused to talk to him. He probably wouldn’t talk to him either. 

He expected to see her all done up, like she always seemed to be, but instead the girl that opened the door was a far cry from that. Her hair was a little curly, but not like she’d curled it, more like that's just how her hair dried. She had sweats on, an old worn college sweatshirt that wasn’t her’s, but maybe one of her parent’s? What really surprised him was the fact that she didn’t have a single bit of makeup on, and she was wearing glasses. He hadn’t seen so much as a single picture of her without makeup on, or with glasses. 

“Oh- I uh,” She seemed to stumble back a few steps, “I thought you were Jackson. How do you- how do you know where I live?”

“Jackson,” William shrugged, “He’s downstairs at Auston’s place.”

“What?” Avalyn questioned, not being able to process much of anything. 

William smiled almost shyly, “Auston lives two floors below you. Jackson suggested that I come up and try not to be a dick.”

“Are you capable of that?” She regretted even asking the second the words left her mouth. 

“I brought chocolate ice cream, if that makes a difference?”

Avalyn sighed and stepped away from the door, pushing it all the way open for him, “I’ll get bowls.”

William wasn’t sure what he expected from her apartment, but he didn’t expect it to be fairly empty. It didn’t feel like a home, more like a cold apartment, half furnished so someone could at least live in it. Even Auston’s place felt more like a home, granted that’s mainly because his mom and sisters came to decorate when he first got it. 

“Sorry, I-” Avalyn shook her head, “I’m still trying to get settled or whatever.”

William nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets, watching as she started dipping the somewhat melted ice cream, “I get it.”

He eyed the bookshelf, which seemed to be the one piece of furniture that she really put some thought into. There didn’t seem to be any space for any more books, some even seemed to be doubled up. He smiled slightly, there was something human about her after all. He thought back to Jackson saying that she hadn’t been able to be herself in a very long time. Maybe this was a rare glimpse at who she might be.

“So uh- Jackson told you to come up here?” She asked, not really understanding what was happening. 

“Something like that,” William replied, “Are you watching one of our old games?” 

Avalyn felt her face turn a little red as she handed him one of the bowls, “Well, it’s hard to go to an actual game, no one really knows that I’m here yet. Besides, I can watch more online and I get the option to replay things.”

He looked at her for a second, watching the way she started to eat big spoonfuls of her ice cream. She didn’t seem at all like the person he’d seen earlier today, or the person he’d been told about. Maybe she had a point when she told him that he should at least try to hear her side of the story.

“You said I didn’t know your side,” He said abruptly, “So, what is your side?”

She stopped eating for a moment and took a deep breath, “It’s complicated, and messy, like Shakespearean level messy. We all knew each other as kids, Jackson, Margret, and I. The three of us started around the same time, landed a few roles together and just kind of became best friends. We did everything together, and would’ve done anything for each other. Things changed, Jackson and I did some things to protect Margo that should really stay between the three of us...and I don’t know. She just took it all the wrong way and was convinced that I took Jackson from her, which isn’t the case. But she wouldn’t let either of us explain, things just ended up getting really out of had.”

“So all of this over that guy?” William blew out a breath, “No offense, he’s cool or whatever, but he isn’t worth all of that.”

“She said some things on the record and got blacklisted,” Avalyn added, “Everyone says she’s a terror to work with, among other things. She blames it all on Jack and I. It is what it is. You can believe me or not, I don’t care.”

He looked down at the small coffee table. Notebooks were strone all across it, drawings and neat handwriting covered all of the pages. He noticed the diagram of a rink, along with explanations all around it. He couldn’t help but pick it up and look closer at it. 

“So, how much do you know?” He asked. 

She leaned back into the couch, “Not enough. The technicalities I understand, the mechanics and how the game is supposed to work. But the lingo and how it actually works, that I’m lost on.”

He smiled lightly, “Yeah, that I can help with.”

She watched as he leaned forward and grabbed her notebook and laptop. He closed the windows she’d been flipping between and instead pulled up a movie. He smiled lazily, putting his feet up on the coffee table, “This is the first step.”

“What is this exactly?” She questioned. 

“This is Slap Shot. We’ll watch the Mighty Ducks, Goon, and Miracle later. But to understand a hockey team, you have to at least see Slap Shot.”

“I-” She shook her head and pulled the blanket from off of the back of the couch, “Okay, if you say so.”

“For the record, I still think you might be a stuck up bitch,” He shrugged, “But you were right, I do want what’s best for the sport, and my little sisters would actually fly over here and murder me if they found out I refused to help you.”

Avalyn couldn’t help but smile lightly, just the slightest up curve of her mouth, “I still think you might be a selfish prick, but I want the crew to be taken care of.”

“Then I guess it’s settled.”

A week later, Avalyn found herself sitting at a table with William and other Maple Leafs, as well as various members of the cast. They were all laughing at stories that the hockey team was telling, mainly of things they did in their youth. 

As Avalyn sat laughing, she realized that this was more than just a team, they were a family too. A close knit band of brothers. Jackson used to talk about how his old team was like that, but Avalyn hadn’t seen anything like it before. She wasn’t used to a close knit family unit like this, especially given how her parents raised her. 

Her notebook was still open in front of her, sometimes she would jot down a few things, especially hockey slang that she wasn’t yet familiar with. But she could say, without a doubt, that she was beginning to feel like she was a part of something bigger than just her. Something that went beyond the crew too. Because they had a whole team working with them too.

“So you two worked it out?” Mitch asked, gesturing to Avalyn and William. 

“Uh-” William scratched the back of his neck. 

“More like, called a cease fire,” Avalyn clarified. 

“Better than all out war,” Jackson joked, “Avey, we’re all going to get on the ice later today, you should come.”

She shook her head, kicking Jackson under the table. The last thing she wanted was to get on the ice for the first time in front of professional hockey players. She hadn’t skated in years, not since her and Jacky were kids. She didn’t want to embarrass herself, especially after she just got William to somewhat like her.

“I think I’ll pass for today,” She said nervously. 

The rest of the team and cast kept chatting, while William leaned over to Avalyn, “You can’t skate, can you?”

She felt her face turn red, “I can...I just haven’t since I was a kid.”

“We won’t let you fall, you know.”

She shook her head again, “I don’t want everyone to see me fail.”

“We all had to learn too you know, and some of the guys taught their girlfriends at the last family skate,” William explained, “We rented out the whole rink, it’s part of learning the ways of the team.”

She still shook her head, “You just want to make fun of me.”

“Well actually I wanted to help you, but if I get to laugh at you that’s a bonus,” He explained. 

“Asshole.”

“Bitch,” He smirked, “Avalyn is gonna come!”

“Hell yeah!” Mitch cheered, “You can ride over with me and Aus.”

“I hate you,” She whispered to William. 

“Yeah yeah, we established all of that.”

But the truth was, she was starting to dislike him less. They talked nearly everyday, sometimes he’d come to her apartment, and sometimes she would go to his. He would send her highlight clips, and ask if she understood what was going on. They would facetime so he could walk her through things, and she even made sure that she could watch his games, just so she could get more exposure to the sport. 

It was strange, she wouldn’t call them friends at all, but they weren’t enemies. Truth be told, neither of them knew what they were. But they wanted to do right by the show and by the small hockey community around the world. They never talked about Margot, but William slowly started to talk about his family and growing up in Sweden, and in other parts of the US because of his father’s hockey career. She liked hearing about his life, more than she thought she would. 

A few hours later, she found herself sitting on a beach just off of the rink. She had her skates on, but didn’t exactly know how to lace them up, and Jackson was nowhere to be seen. So she sat helplessly, hoping he would find her before one of the other guys did. 

“You can’t tie them, can you?”

She groaned before turning to the blond Swede before her, “Why is it always you?”

He shook his head before bending down in front of her, “Give me your foot, I’ll tie it. It’s supposed to be tight, okay? But not so tight that you can’t move.”

He started jerking on the laces, pulling each section as tight as he could, and then loosening some that he felt he got a little too tight. Avalyn tried not to think about how close they were, her foot was caught between his arms, the blade of her skate pushed into his chest. It almost felt too intimate to her. Like her skin would start crawling. But her skin instead seemed to burn with his touch, she could feel her whole body heat despite the cold temperature of the rink. 

“How’s that?” He asked, releasing her foot, “Not too tight?”

She wiggled her foot a bit, her ankle felt secure, not limp like it did before he tied them, “Uh no, I think it’s good.”

“Alright, good,” He nodded his head, “Other foot, and then we’ll get you out there.”

“I still don’t want to go out there,” She stated. 

“Do you want me to hold your hand?” He teased. 

“William, I’m serious, I haven’t skated since I was a kid. Even then I sucked ass,” She explained, “I’m going to fall and literally break my butt and everyone is going to laugh at me. You guys are professionals, you literally do this for a living. I don’t know how to skate on a blade that’s an eighth of an inch thick.”

He looked up at her, “I’m surprised you know how thick the blades are.”

She shrugged, “I told you I’ve been doing my research.”

He sat back, putting her other foot back down on the ground, “I won’t let you fall, okay? But even if you do, it’s fine. We fall sometimes too. I’ll even let you use the little kiddie rails too.”

She shook her head, grabbing onto the bench, “I think I’m going to stay right here.”

He held out a hand for her and flashed a big smile, “C’mon Avalyn Bradshaw Kreitzburg, I didn’t think you were one to back down from a challenge.”

“Avey!” Jackson yelled from the other side of the rink, “Get your ass out here!”

She took a deep breath, grabbing William’s hand, letting him pull her up, “Just don’t you dare laugh if I fall.”

“Yes ma’am,” He replied, “You better hold on tight though.”

[silhouetteofacedar]

Impersonal, Ch. 13

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

He doesn’t drink.

He doesn’t drink, but he sits in a shadowy corner booth at the dive bar near his apartment, a bouquet of coral roses on the table. Waiting for the woman.

He hasn’t been here in a while, and it’s not the place he would have chosen to celebrate their one month anniversary, but what it lacked in ambience it more than made up for in personal significance.

Scully had left a note on his desk that afternoon. Murphy’s Tavern, Alexandria, 7:15. XO. The shorthand endearment made him smile.

He went home after work and changed into a maroon button-down he’d forgotten he owned, one Scully admitted to fantasizing about. He bought a dozen bright peachy roses from a florist he’d passed by for years without ever entering.

He felt slightly ridiculous, entering this shitty bar in an old shirt, clutching a bunch of flowers, but he’s been in worse situations for Scully.

Fox Mulder is in love, and it’s probably written all over his face. He might as well dress to match.

He gets a glimpse of red hair through the haze and bustle of the bar, watches Scully make her way to him. She’s wearing a little shift dress and a cardigan and he aches at the sight of her. He wants to crawl across this sticky bar floor, beg her to hurt him, heal him, carry his children.

He settles for a smile.

“X-O?” Mulder says by way of greeting. “Didn’t think that was your style.”

She ignores the comment with a smile, leans down and presses a shy kiss to the corner of his mouth. They were slowly working their way towards more relaxed affection in public; they spent so much time on the job, they didn’t get much practice being a couple off the clock. She scoots into the booth next to him. “Are these for me?” she asks, reaching for the roses.

“Yeah,” Mulder replies. “Though I admit I know nothing about flowers, so I hope these are good ones. I think people usually go for red but I thought this color suited you.”

“They’re lovely, Mulder. Thank you.” She gathers the blooms to herself and inhales deeply.

“Mm, they smell wonderful,” she sighs. She glances at him shyly. “You know, Mulder, this color… it’s actually very appropriate, based off the widely-accepted meanings behind rose colors.”

“Oh?” he prompts.

She drops a hand to his leg, traces a circle around his kneecap. “Coral roses represent desire,” she murmurs.

Mulder’s heart rate increases, and he can’t think of anything clever to say. Her fingertips are slowly unraveling him.

“Mulder,” she says softly.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s skip the drinks.”

Her words are sparks, igniting a fire low in his belly.

They walk to his apartment hand in hand, enjoying the balmy spring evening. Mulder can’t take his eyes off Scully, enchanted by the shape of her mouth as she talks, the warm breeze flirting with the hem of her dress. She is, he decides, the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. And she wants him, loves him.

They haven’t had sex since the termination of their arrangement; Scully had been very clear that she wanted it at some point in the near future, but needed time to adjust. Apparently, years of emotional repression can really do a number on a person, Mulder had thought wryly. He can relate.

They arrive at his apartment door, and he fumbles with his keys. “I swear I’m not nervous,” he says, nearly dropping the keyring.

Scully takes it from him, deftly unlocks the door. “It’s okay if you are,” she says, opening the door and stepping inside. “I’m a little nervous myself.”

Scully always, always knows what he needs to hear.

“At least we’ve got some practice under our belts, so to speak,” he says, following her in. He shuts the door behind them. “So, how do you want to do this?”

“Preferably naked,” Scully quips. She steps towards him, placing her hands on his shoulders and tiptoeing to reach his ear. “But you don’t need me to tell you how to fuck, do you?”

He strokes her waist, the thin fabric of her dress slipping beneath his fingers. “Maybe I like when you tell me what to do.”

She licks her lips - God, he loves when she does that - and slides her hands up to clasp behind his neck. “Make love to me,” she whispers. “As cliche as that sounds.”

Mulder can handle cliches.

He pulls her in and kisses her, sweeping a hand up her back to press her closer. She’s so warm and supple in his arms, her little hands carding through the hair at the nape of his neck. Their tongues tangle deliciously as they stumble further into the apartment.

Scully breaks the kiss for air. “Should… bed?” She asks, pressing another kiss to his lips.

“Message received,” Mulder replies, and scoops his arms low behind her, picking her up. Scully yelps.

“Mulder, put me down, I can walk,” she protests, laughing.

He stumbles towards the bedroom. “Not for long you can,” he growls in her ear.

Scully moans, and Mulder briefly wonders if he’ll be able to carry her that far in this state. She’s kissing his neck, clawing at his hair, and he’s losing focus fast.

Luckily his apartment is small, and they make it to his bedroom without any major hiccups. He lays her down on his bed, grateful that he’d bothered to smooth his sheets and blankets down for once.

Scully pulls him down towards her, fingers caught on his collar. “Come here,” she commands.

“I intend to,” he replies, bracing himself on his forearms over her.

She rolls her eyes. “You talk too much, Mulder, anybody ever tell you that?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but Scully hauls him down to her waiting lips before he can say another word.

Scully kisses with her entire body, Mulder has learned, directing her own symphony of lips and hands and the occasional nip of teeth. He could lay here kissing her for hours, exploring the harmonies they make with their bodies. He hopes to spend a lifetime learning every note.

Eventually Mulder sits back on his heels on the bed, kneeling like a supplicant before the altar of her hips. His hands travel up her thighs, pushing the skirt of her dress up to her waist. Her skin is downy soft and so hot, he hopes he feels it burning on his fingertips for days after this.

“May I…” he asks gently, running a finger along the edge of her underwear. She shivers.

“Please,” she sighs, legs parting further at the touch.

He slowly draws her panties down, sets them aside. His fingertips brush her heated flesh and she gasps.

“Is this okay?” he asks, leaning down and ghosting a breath against her sex.

“Yes,” she sighs, and her hands pull his head down to her.

It’s different this time. He allows his eyes to close as he loses himself in the taste of her. He’s no longer afraid of not being good enough, no longer anxiously planning his next move. He’s caught in her tide, the sweet flow of her body against his mouth, and he lets himself be carried away by the swell.

She trembles on his lips, hands scrabbling in his hair. “Mulder,” she gasps, “Mulder, no more.”

He looks up at her.

“I need you here,” she says, sitting up. She undoes the first button of her dress, revealing an inch of her sternum.

Mulder scoots forward, sitting between her legs as he begins to unbutton his shirt.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

“Yes you are,” she agrees, unfastening the front of her dress and sliding it down her arms. “But I’m pretty damn lucky too.”

Her dress flutters to the floor, followed by his shirt and pants. Scully unhooks her bra and slowly lowers it down her arms.

Mulder cups her breasts, thumbs skimming over her nipples, and she sighs. Her head tilts back, red hair swinging off her cheeks.

“I love the way you touch me,” she says, reaching for him.

“I love touching you,” he replies, wrapping his arms around her. His bare chest is pressed against hers and his heart is so full it aches.

“I love you,” she murmurs against the skin behind his ear.

“And I love you,” he replies. “Thank you for letting me.”

She draws back, palms cupping his cheeks. “You deserve this, Mulder. You deserve us.”

Shit. Scully knows him. She knows his heart, sees exactly where he’s worn thin; then she pulls out a few patches, threads her needle, and puts him back together.

“Come here,” she says, laying back.

When he pushes into her, feels her envelop him inch by inch, he swears and shakes and feels her body tremble on his frequency. There’s no thrill quite like being inside the woman he loves and trusts more than anyone else, the woman who challenges and respects him in equal measure. The woman who tells him the truth. He is safe and loved and known; he can finally, finally let go.

Their waves crest together, their voices rising and swooping down like gulls. They lay side by side on their shore, fingers intertwined. Mulder feels salty and drowsy, flushed by the radiance of his redheaded sun.

He falls asleep to the sound of Scully’s even, deep breathing, in and out like the tide.

And when he awakes before dawn, he drifts into her sleepy arms; her gravity pulling him towards her on the bed like a moon.

The End. 🌙

[raendown]

I return from the dead with a fic that isn't even for the Naruto fandom and I don't really have an explanation for myself.

Pairing: SamBucky Word count: 2317 Fandom: MCU Summary: Visiting Steve was always strange now that the guy was old and retired. Still, of all the things Sam expected out of today, witnessing a prime example of gay panic from the co-worker that's been mysteriously avoiding him was not one of them.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI and commission info under the header!

Honestly, the fact that Steve's house smelled like prunes was probably one of the funniest things that Sam had ever heard in his life. More than anything he would have loved to go back in time, to the days of reading about glorified heroes in history textbooks, and tell his fifteen year old self that Captain America, Steve Rogers, retired in a house that smelled like prunes. God, his best friend just had to throw himself in to being old the way he threw himself in to everything else.

"Is there a special reason for you visiting?" Steve's voice was more tremulous these days, less steady but no less warm. Just hearing him again after the shameful amount of weeks it had been since his last visit made Sam grin.

"Nah, just thought I'd pop in and see if you'd expired yet. Your birthday's coming up. Gonna be, what, three hundred? A thousand?"

Steve narrowed his eyes but there was fondness in them so it wasn't very scary even if he could probably still tackle Sam across the room if he wanted to. At this point it would hurt him too but he could do it. "You, young man, are-"

He looked chagrined at himself when Sam cut him off with a laugh.

"You shitting me? Did you really just call me young man? See if I ever let you live that down."

His friend grumbled but accepted the teasing as his due. That was just what he got for going back in time and doubling down on being so much older than his own best friends.

Since it had indeed been a little too long after they last saw each other there was quite a bit of catching up for them to do. Over cool glasses of sweet tea and a plate of cookies the two of them spent a pleasant couple of hours shooting the shit until Sam could almost forget the years that stretched between them now. It was jarring, sometimes, looking away from those clear blue eyes to realize all over again just how many wrinkles they were set in. Sometimes he hated it. Other times he could only smile to know that at least one of their ragtag bunch had found the peace they were looking for.

Eventually all that sweet tea went right to his bladder and Sam excused himself to use the bathroom. When he returned he took in the sight of his friend all snug under one of the blankets his late wife had knit and sighed, feeling maudlin suddenly for no good reason.

"I should probably get out of your hair," he said. "Let you get in your afternoon nap or whatever. No, stay there man, I'll clean up." His smile was easy as he snagged the dishes from their grazing and hauled it all over to the kitchen.

"You sure?" Steve's voice floated after him. "Nothing else you want to get off your chest?"

"Huh?"

Sam frowned at the cups he'd just placed in the sink, running back through his mind. They'd talked about pretty much everything he could think of.

"You didn't mention Buck once, you know. I thought the two of you were friends now."

"Ah. Yeah. So did I." The corners of his mouth twisted with a little bitterness, a little confusion. After everything they'd been through and the number of times Bucky had accepted his invitations down to Delacroix he'd thought they were well past the point of calling themselves friends. Maybe he himself felt something a little more than that but he knew better than to push.

That was probably why Bucky's sudden radio silence hurt so much though.

"Trouble in paradise?" Steve called from the other room and Sam snorted.

“Shit, I don’t know. One minute we’re fine and the next he just up and disappears on me again. I may or may not have checked a bunch of obituaries for your name just in case because I have no idea what I might have done to piss him off.” Sam pursed his lips. He’s already gone over all this with Sarah a half dozen times and in all the recounts he’d done of their last couple missions he still couldn’t find any particularly bad moment between him and his best friend. Unfortunately the sweet tea he was glaring at didn’t have any answers either so he snatched the pitcher up and moved to put it in the fridge.

“Have you tried, oh I don’t know, asking him what’s wrong?”

“You think I didn’t try that?”

Steve’s hum drifted down the hallway with a distinct note of sass. “Neither one of you is very famous for your communication.”

“Excuse you, I was a counselor. A certified veteran’s counselor. Communicating with people was literally my job until your overly buff ass came running around all ‘on your left’ and ‘everyone I know is trying to kill me’.” Sam huffed as he snapped the fridge closed. “I damn well tried to talk to him but he’s not answering my texts or my calls. Short of breaking in to his apartment I don’t really know what else you want me to do.”

Without any other excuses to keep him in the kitchen Sam heaved a sigh, knowing he couldn’t dawdle any longer. He could only get to the door by going though the living room so his choices were either run away out the back, which he would never ever hear the end of, or go back in to the living room and face Steve with his stupidly wise and knowing eyes. Seriously, let a guy live to almost two hundred and suddenly he thought he knew everything. Annoying was what it was.

He was only halfway down the hall when he heard the front door open. Sam very carefully swallowed down the jibe he’d just been about to deliver and hoped that meant what he thought it meant. Maybe Steve had finally gone vague after all and bailed in the middle of their conversation; he’d rather chase a crazy old coot down the street than talk about his feelings regarding one James Buchanan Barnes. Actually if he looked at it from the right angle then chasing an old coot down the street was pretty much his job description whenever he and his partner teamed up on missions. Sam was just glad they hadn’t been called in to one since this whole silent treatment had started because he wasn’t sure he wanted to know whether or not Bucky would still have his back even when the guy was mad at him over reasons unknown.

Two more steps and Sam froze in his tracks, eyes wide with disbelief. Bucky’s shoulders were hunched in to himself with something bridling on panic as he fit himself through the front door and kicked it shut behind himself, eyes wild and fixed on the ground between his feet, nervous energy pouring out of him in a way Sam hadn’t seen before. From his spot on the couch Steve watched his childhood friend let himself in with serene indifference.

“Didn’t know you’d be over today,” was all he said. Then he smiled benignly when Bucky let out a soft whine.

“Help,” Bucky pleaded. “I’m dying.”

Then Bucky slid down to his knees and face planted in the carpet, arms and legs splaying out wide. Steve hummed.

“You know,” he murmured, “no one ever believes me when I tell them you’re this dramatic.”

“Steve! I’m having a crisis!”

“I tell everyone you’re a drama queen and they just shake their heads at me.”

“This is important! You have to kill me, Steve. Or I’m gonna just- just-!” Bucky’s voice petered out with another extended whine muffled by the carpet that probably didn’t smell any better from that close up.

Crossing one leg over the other, Steve folded his hands in his lap with a great lack of concern for the ridiculous scene playing out before him. Sam remained frozen in the hallway, wondering if Bucky even realized he was there, but he got an answer to that almost faster than if he’d bothered to ask himself.

“What’s wrong, pal?”

“It’s Sam!” Bucky cried. His arms lifted up like wings to flail briefly before falling back to the floor in a boneless sprawl. “Please just crush my head or something. I can’t take this.”

“Ah, yes, I hear you’ve been avoiding him.”

Whatever kind of noise Bucky was trying to make, it came out sounding more like he was choking on carpet fumes. “Of course I’m avoiding him!”

“Now why on earth would you do that?”

“I want to stick my tongue in the gap between his teeth!” Bucky said, entirely unaware of the sparks that were suddenly running up Sam’s spine in the hallway. “Help me, Steve! I want to press my thumb in the little dimple on his back. He has a dimple on his back! Why!? Steve I want to hold his hand! What the fuck!”

Steve had both eyebrows up near his hairline and the most shit eating grin any human on the planet had ever worn when he turned his head to look at Sam. Frozen with his eyes on the figure currently panicking in to the floor, Sam paid him no attention. He was busy processing. After getting to know Bucky, inviting him to stay in Delacroix time and time again, the dramatics weren’t actually that much of a surprise. Obviously as they grew closer he’d gotten a number of glimpses in to who the real Bucky Barnes was under the grouchy veneer he presented to the world. Watching him starfish on the ground and whine wasn’t too far from what he’d already seen.

Hearing him say anything about his tongue in conjecture with Sam’s teeth, on the other hand, now that was a bit unexpected. More than a bit.

“I think Shuri called this ‘gay panic’ and honestly I’m in agreement,” Bucky went on mindlessly. “If I have to watch him go through one more workout and not grab his ass with both hands then I’m just going to rip both of them off. Who needs hands if I cannot grab Sam Wilson’s ass with them!?”

“You may be slightly exaggerating the situation, I feel,” Steve told him.

Bucky snorted. “I am not. I absolutely am not. Why is he so hot? And nice? I hate that. Except I don’t. Steve why is he so nice to me?”

“That might be a question you should ask him.”

“Oh yeah, sure, I’ve got lots of questions for him! Hey Sam, why are you nice to me? Hey Sam, can I lick your cheekbones? Hey Sam, how big is your cock?”

“Well. Not that I’ve ever thought to ask that myself but, alright. Go on, Sam, how big is it?”

Sam had just enough time to cross his arms over his chest and assume a very casual pose leaning against the wall beside him before Bucky’s head shot up off the carpet. If possible, his eyes were even more wild than before when he fixed them on Steve, full of the deepest betrayal. Then he very slowly dragged them sideways to see the man he’d just been panicking over. Sam gave him a very friendly smile.

“Depends on your frame of reference,” he admitted. “I’d say sizeable.”

“Nnnggggg.”

“Hi Buck.”

“Ggnnn.”

While Steve very poorly disguised a laugh behind one hand, Sam pushed off from the wall and sauntered further in to the living room. Bucky slammed his face back in to the carpet.

“Leave me here to die,” he pleaded in a very small voice. Sam tutted, reaching for the front door, only looking over his shoulder once he was halfway through it.

“Come on, Buck, can’t lick my cheekbones if you don’t get off the floor. It was a nice visit, Steve, but don’t be looking out your front curtains for a bit. I think I’ll let Bucky decide for himself what sizeable means.” He thanked god for the mercy of Steve’s house being situated out here so far from any other homes, surrounded on all sides by enough trees that you couldn’t see it from the road. A gorgeous little island of privacy. Sam was fairly sure he wasn’t the only one grateful for this, judging by the mad scrambling noises he could hear going on behind him.

Bucky’s voice garbled out something that sounded like ‘fuck you, thank you, bye forever’ and then Sam was listening to the slam of the front door barely a second before strong hands were wrapping themselves around his hips. He laughed even as Bucky’s face came in to view.

“Greatest assassin of several generations and you didn't notice my truck in the driveway?” he said.

“I may have been a bit distracted.” That was definitely a pout on Bucky’s lips.

“By being so hot for all of this”-Sam gestured vaguely down his own body-“that you literally ceased being able to function.”

He didn’t expect such easy agreement as the sheepish nod that followed his words. “Pretty much.”

Sam blinked slowly once, twice. For one long moment he considered teasing the man. Then he decided that their time was much better spent doing things they’d both obviously been wanting to do while assuming they would never get the chance.

“I was promised a tongue in my teeth. Are you gonna get to that any time soon or am I gonna sit here and pine some more for something I apparently could have had all along?”

Bucky keened piteously. Then he surged forward to follow through on his own promises and Sam really hoped that Steve had taken his words to heart about the curtains. The man was way too old to be seeing all the ways they were about to defile the side of this truck.

[yacoka]

FIFTY FIRST DATES, AND THE FIRST REAL ONE

──⊱ for my one and only, wee to my woo, love of my life — @doughnuts-5ever

pairing — kuroo tetsurou x reader

genre — angst but it ends very fluffily i swear on my doggie socks

beta(s) — @sugasugawarau @taiyaki 

kisses — hello i am,,, not back,, but here's a little thing that i did for my cow and it might as well be a valentine's day fic bc why not xoxo see y'all in a few days (psps sorry to everyone to has messaged me on discord or here or anything, i haven't been on tumblr or discord in a bit i'll be back sOON)

You sat at the dinner table, staring down at the meal laid out before you. It was by far the best thing you had ever tasted, and yet, it was bland. So, so bland and bitter, that you hated it. Nevermind that it was your favorite dish made by your mother the other day, nevermind that you always loved it better as leftovers. It tasted bland and bitter, and you couldn’t help but wish what he was eating tonight was too.

It was pathetically selfish of you - you knew. But how could you not feel that way when the man you loved was out on a date with some stranger he met on the internet? He had left the house in a burgundy button up that looked like it was made for him, paired with black slacks that made him look like it should be illegal for him to be out in the streets without a warning sign.

It was his first attempt at online dating after having miserably failed at picking up girls from school. And now here he was, out with some chick with a name you could barely pronounce, and the stereotypical description of her bubbly personality that loved nature and volunteered at the animal shelter. Oh, and lets not forget, she’s a gemini!

You rolled your eyes, stabbing your fork into the now cold dish. Stupid boy, with his stupid date, with that stupid red shirt, and with his stupid personality.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. That’s what you were for falling in love with a boy who never saw you for more than another pity project, the pathetic little thing that needed friends but never had any guts to make one until he came along.

You picked up the container of food and stalked over to the bin, dropping its contents into it. You weren’t going to eat it anyways, especially not after how you had  massacred it.

After you left the dirty container in the sink, you flopped onto the couch, sighing heavily as you sank into the worn sofa. It smelled like Kuroo’s body soap, though from the amount of time he’s spent lying on this couch, it was to be expected.

You leaned forward, hand outstretched for the remote. Just a little further, a little more-

The door slammed open and you lurched forward, landing on the ground with a thud.

“It was horrible. She came into the restaurant and she looked amazing, but then we started talking and oh god, I don’t think I can be with someone who thinks that only the rich should be allowed to do whatever they want just because they’re rich.”

“Well hello to you too, Kuroo,” you grumbled from your spot on the floor, flipping yourself over to face the ceiling.

He jumped over the sofa arm, landing perfectly on it like he always does.

“I mean, how can I accept that? That’s just morally wrong and if her basic morals are wrong, what about other more important things? I walked out right after that, that doesn’t make me an asshole right?” His head popped out, brown eyes staring down at you. The cologne he wore tonight drifted down, washing over you and clouding your mind with its deliciously warm and thick and-

“I mean I did pay for the meal before I left,” he mutters, dropping his head onto the cushion, voice muffled slightly by it. “So it counters the fact that I left, right?”

The sigh that begs to pull its way out is caught by you, stuffed into the depths of your stomach in exchange for a soft pat on his head and words you know he wants to hear.

“No, you’re not an asshole. Maybe that was an asshole move, but that doesn’t make you one. Besides, her lack of a moral compass cancels out any asshole you might’ve been.” You combed through his hair, drawing it out of the careful style he had forced his bed head into. “This hairstyle though? It makes you look like an extreme asshole.”

Kuroo scoffed indignantly and his head popped back over the edge once more, brown eyes glaring at you. “I worked hard on this!”

“Doesn’t make you look any less of an ass.”

“The date was incredible.” He sighed dreamily, leaning against the counter with his chin in his hand. The temptation to throw your fork at him increased, and it took every sane cell in your body to set it down on the table instead, albeit rougher than you intended.

If Kuroo noticed your intensity, he didn’t mention it, instead continuing on to sigh and gush about the wonderful date he had last night with this amazing woman at this delicious place.

For someone who was incredibly perceptive, he could be incredibly dense as well. You wonder at his obliviousness to your feelings, to the poorly concealed hurt that peeked through in every little move of your body.

All you wanted to do was scream at him, to wake up, open his eyes, and see you.

You, who had been there since the beginning, who had watched him grow from the shy, introverted kid to this cunning, charismatic man who excelled and went beyond what had been expected of him. You, who had seen him at his worst, and still stayed, patching him up and helping him to his feet. You, who knew who he was to the core, every detail, every fact about him.

But it seemed he didn’t know you as well.

“That’s great,” you interrupt him. He glanced at you, surprised by your abruptness. “I gotta go get some work done, I’ll talk to you tomorrow morning.”

“Wait, did I do something wrong?” He called after your retreating back. “Hey, I’m sorry if I pissed you off.”

“No, it’s nothing!” You slammed the door shut, slumping against it. God, you were a fool to have fallen for an idiot. Dashing away the burning tears that slip down your cheeks, you gathered just enough strength to crawl beneath onto your bed and beneath the covers.

The cat plushie he got you a long time ago sits at the bottom of your bed, staring at you. You glared at it, before giving in and grabbing it, tucking it into your chest. Stupid Kuroo with his stupid face and this stupid cat. You hate him so much.

(No, you don’t, you really don’t. And it hurts so much more to know that.)

You’re back here once more, glaring daggers at the clock. The slow ticking of the hands pisses you off, every second gone is a second more Kuroo’s out there, with another girl, on another date. With the number of bad first dates he’s gone one, you’d think he’d give up. But no, this man was persistent, and he wanted to “experience life!”

Well, he was going to experience death soon if he didn’t come back home soon. Your vigil continued, all the way till three am where you gave up and went to bed, your exhaustion outweighing your annoyance and worry. He’s a grown man, there was no need to worry about him.

Honestly, you didn’t know how you got here. To this suffocating silence that rested upon your chest, pinning you down as you listened to the sounds of cars rushing past and the occasional laughter that seeped through the walls. To where you spent your nights alone in your shared apartment, waiting for Kuroo to come home from yet another date. Like some married person waiting on their cheating husband, you smiled bitterly at the ceiling.

Only you weren’t married to him, and you certainly weren't his anything.

If only you were less of a fool, you might’ve moved on long ago. Maybe you might have even found someone who might be just as in love with you as you were with them. You might have already been in a happy relationship, going out on dates, spending your nights with them, being loved. But you were a fool, a fool in love with another fool.

So you continued to lie there, the infinite weight of your one-sided love pressing you into the ground, holding you prisoner to Kuroo Tetsurou.

“Hey, do you wanna go get dinner?” Kuroo called out. “There’s nothing left in the fridge, maybe we could get groceries after.”

You ignored him, focusing on the dimly lit screen of your phone. There hadn't been a proper conversation with him in a while, and you were content to leave it that way if only it meant you didn’t have to hear about his dates with those seemingly perfect women and their seemingly perfect food.

Kuroo called out once more, and you burrowed beneath the blanket, curling up into a ball.

No, you did not want to get dinner with the man you’re so desperately in love with it almost hurts to even breathe in his presence.

The door creaked open, and you could see his shadow stretch out across your bedroom floor, casting its shape upon your walls. It took everything in you to tear your eyes away from it and back onto your phone, though it lingered in your peripheral, taunting you with the way it twisted and leaned closer to you, the scent of his cologne growing stronger by the second, until it almost felt like he wa-

“Why are you ignoring me?” Kuroo whined into your ear as he draped his body over yours, strands of inky hair tickling your cheek.

“Ku-roo-” you gasped out, fighting to twist your body out from under him. “Can’t- bre-breathe.”

He groaned into your ear, dropping even more pressure down. “Don’t care, you ignored me.” He sulked as he burrowed his head into the crook of your neck.

A blind kick to his legs has him flopping off you, spread eagle on your too tiny bed.

“You’re too heavy to be pulling this crap,” you snapped at him.

“And you’re too old to be ignoring me when something’s wrong,” he shot back just as fast, and you were left stunned. To be fair, you should have expected it, Kuroo being one of the most perceptive people you’ve ever met.

(Not perceptive enough to see the deep feelings you harbored for him though.)

“So what’s wrong?”

‘Everything,’ you wanted to scream. ‘You, those stupid dates, my feelings, every god damned thing on earth.’

Instead, what came out was: “I’m just stressed. Work, you know?” You shot him an unconvincing smile.

Kuroo frowned, his lips pinching as he stared at you. He knew better than to push you though, and settled with a curt nod, a forced smile slipping onto his face. “So…. dinner?”

You sighed in exasperation, and let him yank you up and out of bed. The way his stiff smile melted into an easy, fond one was enough to wash away your hesitance, and temporarily dam up the river of doubts that threatened to drown you.

Just for tonight, you’ll enjoy his presence, before he gets caught up in another’s embrace.

(You let yourself get swept up in him again, chasing after the ebb of his warmth when his encompassing presence surges away from you. But you find that you don’t really mind drowning in him, not when the peak of the surf reveals such beautiful sights in the form of lazy smirks and sly hazel eyes.)

It’s another failed date that sends him home in a fitted suit, one that you had turned your nose up at. Kuroo doesn’t understand what’s going wrong, why he never felt like the date was right. The people he had gone on dates with were nothing short of amazing, with the exception of a few. But they just lacked… something. And so he always leaves them with a grateful goodbye and an apologetic smile, returning home to the apartment he shared with you alone.

He’s spent nights and days trying to convince himself that they were an ideal candidate to date, listing out their positive notes to you, and somehow he can’t seem to find the thing that made him just click with them. It’s bordering on frustrating, really, and Kuroo is more than ready to relieve some of the building tension in his body by hanging out with you.

His entrance home is muffled by the sounds of music blasting through the apartment, and it’s a wonder the neighbours haven’t complained yet. He’s about to call out for you as he drops keys on the coffee table, one hand loosening his tie when he catches sight of you dancing in the kitchen.

And everything clicks in place.

It’s a stunning clarity that leaves him reeling, and he wonders how he could have missed it in the first place. It’s a simple truth: Kuroo Tetsurou was completely, utterly, irrevocably in love with you. And it only took him fifty bad first dates to realize that the only person he wanted to go on a date with was you.

Objectively speaking, you look like a complete mess, but to him, the sight of you twirling around in sock clad feet in an oversized shirt with a lame chemistry joke printed across it was infinitely better than any of the people he had gone on dates with. You’re absolutely perfect to him, yelling out lyrics to a song that’s blasting at full volume from the living room.

There isn’t a moment’s hesitation as he surges forward, a force tugging him to you. And like just like two opposing magnets, you spin around just in time for him to collide into you, his head hazy as his mouth crashes down upon yours.

You taste of leftover pizza and something sweet, and he thinks it might be the best damn thing he’s ever tasted. The shocked gasp that escapes you is swallowed by Kuroo as he deepens the kiss, arms winding around you to pull you impossibly closer. And he isn’t sure why he’s so surprised when you reciprocate the kiss, melting into him as your hands grip the lapels of his blazer.

It feels like an eternity spent wrapped around each other, the beat of the music matching the rhythm of your hearts, and the warmth of each other.

Kuroo pulls away first, only because rationality comes sinking back into his muddled brain, and there’s a brief moment of panic when he stares down at your flushed face, lips swollen from his sudden attack. But the absolute relief and love in your eyes has him calming down, and the soft peck you deliver next settles those doubts.

“It’s been you all this while,” his voice cracks, and he winces. “You’re my best friend, and I’m in love with you.”

The smile that breaks out across your face is everything he’s been looking for, and he feels like a fool for being so blind. You’re everything he’s wanted, and everything he’s needed.

“I’m in love with you.” He repeats louder, an incredulous laugh bubbling out of him. “I’m in love with you!”

“I’m in love with you too!” You yell back, and in his excitement, he can’t help but twirl you around, and you burst into giggles. There isn’t a better sound in the world than this, he thinks.

“Be mine.” He catches you by the shoulders, face alight with adoration.

“I’ve been yours for a long time now.” Your answer fills him with a rush of delight and guilt, and he’s ready to spill apologies and promises to make it up to you when you yank on his tie hard, pulling him into another kiss. Every unspoken word, every drop of emotion that has ever begged to be exchanged between you two is said with a simple kiss.

Kuroo thanks the heavens for you, for blessing his life with someone who is more than he deserves. The weight of you in his arms is a comforting pressure, and there he has his last first date, at the beginning of a new chapter in the story of him and you, eating leftovers and dancing to songs of your childhood.

He’s in love with you, and you are with him too.

[kyber-crystal]

Baby Fever

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: ~2.4k

Summary: Sometimes, all you need to work up your courage is a little push. And Steve receives just that. When the two of you go to babysit Morgan, he gets a little sneak peek into what a future with you could be like - and he doesn`’t want to let that thought go.

Warnings: this sucks lol, but it’s just a bunch of fluff

A/N: so a lot of my oneshots are about getting INTO relationships instead of being in one prior, but I just couldn’t resist this trope ugh. I CANT RESIST DAD! STEVE UGHHH. also i decided to start making moodboards, inspired by @marvelsswansong teehee. dedicating this to @rynhaswritersblock​ , who recently joined tumblr! I LOVE YOUUUUUUUUU 

...

“Are you guys sure about this?” Pepper looked back and forth between you and Steve as she packed up the last of her things, rolling the suitcases to the front door. "She's a lot to handle...and I know you guys already have a lot on your plate and all.."

"I'm sure," you gave her a reassuring smile, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "We're going to have fun, right, Morgan?"

"Yeah!" the little Stark giggled, raising her arms in the air, "We're gonna have so much fun together!"

"We'll be back by tomorrow night," Tony informed you, leaning down to kiss Morgan's forehead, "Bye, sweetheart. Make sure to behave for them, okay?"

"Okay!"

"I can't thank you guys enough," Pepper stated. "It's been forever since we were last able to get a break like this."

"You deserve it," you nodded, "now go! Shoo! Don't worry and just relax! That's the whole point of you going on this trip."

"Alright, alright," she chuckled, "see you soon, then!"

As soon as the door closed behind them, Morgan immediately jumped up into your arms. "Let's go play!"

"What do you want to do?" you asked.

"A tea party!"

"Well..." Steve looked down at his watch, "it's getting close to lunchtime, so how about we have something to eat first, and then we'll play, okay?"

"Yay!"

While you kept Morgan busy, Steve got set to making a simple lunch of grilled cheese for you all to eat. When he brought the plates to the living room, he saw saw you sitting in between Morgan's legs as she was plopped down on the couch, pulling your hair up into a high bun.

"Now, what's this?" Steve raised an eyebrow as he set down the food on the coffee table, ruffling Morgan's hair. "Did you bother her?"

"She didn't," you laughed lightly, "don't worry."

"Do you like it?" Morgan giggled. "I think she looks super pretty!"

"I approve," Steve nodded, giving the little girl a thumbs-up.

"So, Morgan," you cleared your throat, "Who's your favorite Avenger?"

"Daddy is!"

"Besides your dad."

"You!"

“And why is that?”

“Because you can shoot lasers out of your eyes and control the weather! And that’s really really cool!”

“I think you just hurt Steve’s feelings,” you reminded her.

“He’s my second favorite!”

“Really, kiddo?” Steve raised a brow, “after all I’ve done for you? Who took you out to ice cream after your dance recital? Who let you have dessert before dinner when your dad was too busy working? Who let you go sledding with their shield?”

“But Y/N is the cool auntie!”

"See that, Cap? She likes me more than you," you smirked, nudging Steve in the shoulder. "I'm her favorite."

Steve scoffed. “I’m right behind you. I’m her second favorite.”

"I'm better than you are, though."

After you were all done eating, Morgan grabbed Steve’s hand, then motioned for you to all follow her upstairs to her room. Within five minutes you were all dressed up with feathery boas, colorful scarves, bejeweled sunglasses, and bright pink birthday hats.

"You look ridiculous," you snorted as you adjusted Steve’s fuchsia feather boa and sunglasses. "I could just take a picture of you right now and store it for future blackmail use."

"Don't you dare," he warned.

Too late. You already had your phone out and he blinked in surprise as the flash went off. You giggled as you saw the surprise evident in his face.

"Ooh! Let's take a group selfie!" Morgan jumped up and down. Steve let out a sigh but as soon as he saw the eager look in her eyes he couldn't resist. You crowded together as you quickly took the group picture, making funny faces because she insisted on doing so.

Pepper was right in saying Morgan was a lot to handle. If being an Avenger was the most difficult thing to do, this had to be the second hardest job to take. By the time dinner rolled around, you were tired out of your mind from running around the backyard throwing a Frisbee back and forth, commentating on Barbie movies together, cartwheeling through the halls, climbing trees, and her undoing and redoing your hair.

"Why don't you take a break. I'll get dinner ready," Steve offered. "You need to rest."

"But St-" you began.

"It's fine," he waved you both off, "you deserve it."

"Thank you," you yawned, stretching your arms up in the air. As soon as you flopped down onto the couch, you drifted off.

“Auntie Y/N? Where are...oh!” Morgan hopped over and peered over the sofa, seeing that you were fast asleep. She picked up the blanket that had been strewn aside from earlier, and carefully pulled it over your body, before patting your forehead and skipping off to the kitchen to find Steve.

“Uncle Steve!” She tugged on the super-soldier’s pant leg, and he looked down from where he was chopping up cilantro at the counter. The heavenly smell of Italian spice blends began filling the air. “What are you making?”

“Garlic tomato basil chicken,” he responded with a soft smile as he set his knife down and washed his hands, crouching down to her eye level. “It’s almost ready. Is Y/N still asleep?”

“Uh huh.”

“Why don’t you wake her up for me, while I go set the table. Sounds good?”

“Yup!”

"Y/N, WAKE UP!" she began jumping up and down wildly. "Wake up wake up wake up wake up!"

You groaned and stirred awake, rubbing your eyes as you stood up. "Who woke me u- oh, hey!"

"Were you tired?"

"Yes, Morgan, very," you gave her a tired smile, "so I took a nap. Are you not tired?"

"Nope!"

“Alright,” you exhaled, picking her up. “Let’s go eat!” She instantly rested her head against your shoulder.

Steve watched you pick Morgan up and spin her around as she let out a squeal - and felt a rush of pride wash over him in seeing you being so playful with the little girl. You'd make an excellent parent to his future child, he thought to himself. All you needed now was a ring around your finger. 

He felt his heart race at the thought - since when did he start feeling this way about you?

"Dinner's ready!"

"Uncle Steve, are you one of those chef guys on TV?" Morgan's eyes widened in awe as she slid into her seat, looking down at her plate. "This looks super cool! How did you do this?"

"No, I'm not," Steve laughed, "This just takes a lot of practice."

For the majority of dinner, Morgan retold little memories along the lines of 'Remember when that one time you came over for Daddy’s birthday and then Uncle Steve came too and I went sledding with his shield? That was so fun!" 

The five year-old was definitely talkative, but nobody minded at all. She was too adorable that it didn't matter how chatty she was - even you, the tough, seemingly coldhearted Agent Y/N had warmed up to her.

After a long, jam-packed day, Morgan was completely knocked out, splayed out across the couch clutching her favorite stuffed duck. You quietly crept towards her and picked her up, carrying her upstairs to her room and gently laying her down in bed.

You lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching as her brown hair fell around her face like a little halo, her chest rising and falling with each breath she took. A small smile found its way onto your face as you stood there.

Suddenly you felt a pair of arms wrap around your waist from behind.

"Hey," Steve exhaled, resting his chin on top of your head. You could feel his warm breath against your neck as he spoke. "What're you standing here for?"

"Hmmm...just watching, making sure she's alright..." you hummed, placing your hands over his as he gently rocked you both from side to side. "Uh...what time is it?"

"10:30."

"Wow. Who knew she could tire you out so quickly," you let out a yawn. "I normally don't go to bed until 1 or 2, or at all for that matter."

"You should get ready for bed, too," he suggested, leaning down to kiss your temple. "Come on. You’re sharing the guest room with me, if you don’t mind."

"Sounds good," you yawned again as he released you from his hold, closing the door before turning around and following him down the hall.

You were too worn out to change or wash up, crawling underneath the covers and pulling them up to your chin. Steve slid into bed besides you, and within minutes you were both fast asleep.

"Yeah!" Morgan squealed, jumping up and down on the mattress. "Auntie Y/N! Uncle Steve! Stop cuddling and get up because it's time to eat!"

The two of you slowly stirred awake, then when you realized the compromising position you were in you quickly pulled apart, sitting up as you rubbed your eyes and ducked your heads slightly to hide the blush on your faces.

"Are you guys dating?"

"No, we're not!" you and Steve replied in unison. 

"Uh huh."

Much to Morgan's delight, you ended up eating Mickey Mouse-shaped pancakes for breakfast. Afterwards you took to playing Frisbee and several other games outside for a couple hours before heading back in and bingeing several episodes of Sofia the First while eating macaroni. 

Though sometimes when you glanced over at Morgan laughing and enjoying herself throughout the day, you felt a pang in your chest. You'd missed out on so many years with your parents - your early graduation from Penn State, being promoted to commander of SHIELD’s strike team at just 21, becoming an Avenger - only being able to experience a fraction of your life with them before their lives were unfairly cut short.

"Are you okay?" Steve glanced at you worriedly, placing a hand on top of yours.

"Yeah...I'm fine."

"No, you're not. Come on...what's up? Just tell me," he pleaded. "I don't like seeing you sad. It makes me sad, too."

You bit your lower lip, squeezing your eyes shut. "I miss Mom and Dad...seeing Morgan reminded me so much of what I was like as a kid...the memories came flooding back. It’s been so long since then, but..."

"I know. I miss my Ma and Dad, too," he sighed. "I know it hurts, but...don't worry. Time heals all wounds. You’ll be alright."

You lifted your head from where it was resting on his shoulder, smiling slightly at him. "You know, I think that's the wisest thing I've heard you say. Not Captain America hasn’t said a lot of wise things, though."

"You think?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm happy to help...you know I'm always here for you, right?"

"Mhm. I love you."

"I love you too."

When Tony and Pepper arrived the next day, they saw all of you sprawled out across the living room, cuddled up together amidst fluffy blankets and pillows. You were clinging to Steve like a koala, while Morgan was using his arm as a pillow as she hugged her stuffed duck close to her chest.

"They must've been exhausted," Pepper chuckled, resting a hand on her husband's shoulder.

"They're completely knocked out."

Morgan was the first to wake up. "Daddy!" she giggled, rushing forward and jumping into Tony's arms. "You're back!"

"Hi there," he ruffled her hair, "how did you like spending time with them?"

"It was awesome! They were the best!"

Tony's expression immediately softened as he glanced over at the still-dozing you and Steve. "I'm glad to hear that, sweetheart. Now. Let's wake them all up so they can head back to the compound."

"Hey, Cap? It's time to head home," Pepper gently shook Steve awake. He stirred slightly before sitting up, blinking several times in confusion before he saw her in front of him. "Hey."

"Oh, hi, Pepper..."

"It looks like Y/N isn't about to wake up anytime soon, though..." her brows furrowed together in concern. "She must've done a lot, huh."

"Yeah...she did..."

You stirred awake, sitting up and yawning loudly. “Oh. Tony, Pep...hey! Did I...”

“You knocked out completely,” Steve laughed. “I’ll drive. I know you’re tired.”

"Thanks,” you yawned again, placing a hand over your mouth. “I owe you.”

“No worries.”

He nodded, carefully scooping you up into his arms as Bucky woke up.

"Alright...let's get going. And Tony...it was great seeing you again."

"Likewise, Rogers. We still up for Barbados next month?"

"Definitely."

After a last round of goodbyes, you were on your way back to the Avengers HQs, leaning your head against the cool glass of the window as Steve drove.

"So,” he exhaled, adjusting his grip on the wheel, “you did good over there, putting up with her. She was a lot to deal with.”

“But we had fun, didn’t we?” you turned your head to the side, giving him a soft smile. “I now have a dozen new perfect blackmail photos of you to bring back with me.”

Steve just laughed and shook his head, “I have some of you too, you know.”

“Are you serious.”

"It’s nothing bad, you just fell asleep and I took a picture. You looked cute, if anything.”

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “Oh.”

“You’re really good with kids, Y/N.”

“...Thanks. You are, too...Morgan loves you.”

“I’d think you’d be an amazing mother to my child someday.” The words came out so swiftly, so smoothly that he didn’t realize what he’d said until he saw your reaction.

You froze in shock. “What did you...what did you just say?”

“When can we have kids?”

“Did I just...hear you correctly...”

“But if you’re not ready to start a relationship, then I understand...I’m in it if you are. When I saw you playing with Morgan...it was like getting a little glimpse to what life with you would be like in the future, of starting a family together...and I don’t want to let go of that idea.  I can't imagine doing that with anyone else other than you."

"What's with the...sudden...confession?" you spluttered, cheeks turning an even deeper shade of red.

“I love you,” he said softly, gazing at you out of the corner of his eye, “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know it seems early for me to be saying something like this but I couldn’t be more confident in my answer. And if you’re willing to let me in, then...I’d be more than happy to become that ideal man you’ve always wanted to have.”

“I think I’m falling in love with you, too.”

[broadstbroskis]

four times you wore matthew tkachuk’s name on accident + one time on purpose | matthew tkachuk

the first

It’s a Friday night and you’re at Matty Tkachuk’s apartment solely at the request of your best friend, Sasha, who’s a little more than friends with Noah Hanifin (and refusing to believe that she’s actually more than a little more than friends but that’s neither here nor there). The party’s raging and you’re killing some bro’s on the pong table with some pretty Swedish boy who you’re almost certain plays on the Flames with Noah. And then, suddenly, there’s a ruckus behind you, like more than the general party-ruckus, and you’re covered in beer.

And when you say soaked, you mean like, absolutely drenched.

The dudes who are the entire reason you’re now the winner of the impromptu wet t-shirt contest can’t even make it through the apology they start before their eyes go to your chest and they actually stop speaking, so you very quickly ditch the pretty Swede in favor of looking for Sasha.

Unsurprisingly, she’s making out with Noah in the corner and neither of them look amused when you interrupt. “Well sorry.” You snap, glaring at yet another guy who stops to stare at you.

“Get moving, buddy!” Noah waves him away.

“Now do you see why I want to leave?” You look at them flatly. 

Sasha giggles. “Just go topless for the rest of the night!”

You give her a look “You’ve seen me topless before. That’s certainly not going to help the staring.”

Sasha is still giggling as a group of guys in the corner start to point and Noah gives his best glare (which is frankly, like 0% terrifying, but the gesture is much appreciated). “Come on,” He pulls the two of you away.

“Oh yeah,” You snark at him, as he leads you down the hall. “This is helping my case. Heading down the hall with the two of you in my wet t-shirt. This is just the thing I need!”

“Well?” Noah grins not even five minutes later, from where he’s lounging on Matty’s bed, watching as you attempt to tuck the Tkachuk Flames shirt into your short, bodycon skirt. The endeavor is useless, which from her laughter, Sasha figured out ages ago, and has been waiting for you to do the same.

“There’s nothing smaller?” You ask desperately. The shirt is genuinely huge. It fits you like a dress.

“I mean, Chucky’s just a tad bigger than you so…” Noah trails off, fighting his own laughter.

“That is a lewk!” Sasha is still giggling from the ground as she adds, “I’m sure we could look around and find something smaller that’s been left behind.”

That thought brings an immediate look of disgust to your face. At least Matty’s shirt is clean. “Fuck no, I don’t want anything that belongs to any girl that he might have brought back here!”

They’re both laughing, as you awkwardly tuck one edge of the t-shirt into your skirt and let the rest of it fall. “Alright.” You say. “Noah, let me pound your beer and I might not hate myself enough to be able to go back out there.”

Noah’s beer is not quite enough, but it’s enough to get you back out to the party, where you can all three get fresh drinks to go along with the shots you insist on (needed if you’ll be wearing this shirt for the rest of the evening).

And then, they quickly ditch you for their corner again, so you make your way back to the pong game, only to find out the you and the pretty Swede have been chased off the table.

The Swede is in the kitchen, holding court with a few other teammates, and you start to make your way over to them, hoping to convince him to take back your rightful spot at the table (or if not, just to join their circle), when the host of the party steps up to you.

“Babe!” Matt grins, and you stop to wait for what’s to come, because you’ve seen a lot of him recently since Noah and Sasha have been spending more and more time together, so you’re sure he’s not finished. “Never would have thought I’d be happy to see you change out of that wet t-shirt, but I guess that’s when happens when you look so hot in my clothes!”

“Babe!” You mimic, grinning, ready to dish it back. “Never would have thought I’d actually consider changing into the clothes that last week’s rando left behind, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re a dick!”

Matty just laughs, accepting the chirp as you move past him to the kitchen, and that’s that. The shirt comes home with you that night, gets shoved into the back of your closet, and forgotten about entirely.

the second

“Thank god you’re here!” The woman grabbing your arm on the way out of the bathroom at Saddledome looks extremely familiar, but you couldn’t put a name to her face if your life depended on it. 

“Sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong person.” You try to keep your voice as polite as possible as you attempt to shake her off.

She shakes her head. “Sasha said she tracked you here on your phone.”

That traitor. And also, still, who the fuck is this lady? “Umm.”

“Britt and Morgan are both stuck at home with sick kids, and Jess was supposed to be able to fly in in time for the game tonight but her flight got delayed so she’s stuck in Ottawa or something, so we are super shorthanded and Sasha said you were here with some friends tonight and wouldn’t mind filling in.”

Say what now? “Sorry, filling in for what?”

“Toy collection!” She’s actively leading you away from your other friends and from your seat towards an employee only area. “Come on; let’s get you a jersey and get you set up!”

And well, you’re not so heartless that you’re not going to help them collect toys for kids for the holidays! Even when she shoves a Tkachuk jersey at you, practically yanks it over your head, and then fluffs your hair before leading you out to the first floor concourse and over to a toy collection station with Johnny Gaudreau’s girlfriend, you paste a smile on your face, vowing to get back at Sasha for this later.

It isn’t long before the smile is real, laughing along with Ali as the two of you collect toys and donations. You’re actually having such a good time you don’t even notice that lady taking your picture until the next morning, when you’re scrolling through Instagram and it pops up on your feed via the Flames official account, on a post thanking their fans for making the toy drive such a success.

And right below it, a comment from Matt: 👀👀

the third

It’s too fucking light out, there’s a very loud banging, and your head will not stop pounding.

And somehow, none of these things are going away? Like they’re actually all getting worse and that’s when you realize your hangover isn’t going to go away on its own. So with one last groan into the pillow, you open your eyes, hoping to take care of all of these things.

And that’s when you realize this isn’t your bed. Or your room. And you aren’t wearing any clothes?

What the fuck happened last night?

Once that moment of immediate panic fades, you realize that even though this isn’t your room, it is a familiar one. It’s not the first time you’ve spent the night in Matty’s guest room after a party, but it is the first time you’ve woken up in it without clothes.

Further inspection of the room leads to open blinds and no clothing, which is not entirely helpful in solving the problems of your nakedness or the knocking at the door...which you can only assume means Matt has left for practice or something because god, if he was somehow managing to sleep through this, you were going to kill him.

The knocking at the door will not fucking stop and so you angrily stand, searching for some clothing item in the room to cover yourself up with to go take care of it. You’re just contemplating wrapping yourself in the blanket before you stumble upon an old Knights t-shirt. It’s still huge on you, but it’s clean and probably better than going out to answer the door wrapped in just a blanket.

No, definitely better than going out in just a blanket.

The shirt is soft and worn as you pull it over your head, like a favorite old t-shirt should be, and you really contemplate stealing it as you bitterly make your way to the door, throwing it open with a scowl on your face. “What?”

“Uh.” There’s a delivery man outside the door, holding a package. “Sign for delivery?”

Is he fucking serious? This is the ruckus? If looks could kill, he’d be a puddle on the floor, but you sign for the package and turn back into the apartment.

And apparently, Matt is home, and furthermore, alive, since when you do turn, he’s standing in the living room. For once, he’s not even running his fucking mouth, standing there with his jaw slightly dropped as he stares at you.

“Here!” You throw the package to him as you start to walk closer.

Matt doesn’t even react and the box falls to the ground in front of him. “Where’d you find that shirt?”

Your fingers drop to the hem of the tee, starting to recognize the look in his eyes for what it is. “Your guest room.”

He swallows. Visibly. Audibly. “Why’d you put that on?”

You grin, beginning to lift the hem up. “Why don’t you come find out?”

the fourth

Stuck in an endless loop of last times, it’s becoming less and less shocking to find yourself in Matt’s bed at various hours of the day. Sneaking out of his place in the morning. Popping over in the afternoon between classes. Sending your uber at the end of the night to his place instead of your own.

So it’s not really alarming anymore to find yourself waking up on a Sunday morning in Matt’s bed, to roll over and see only the ends of his curly hair poking out from under the covers or maybe a bare chest from where he’s pushed off all the blankets, consistently a later riser than you unless he absolutely has to be up.

Someone might think it’s alarming from the way you jump out of bed this particular Sunday, but that actually has more to with the time on the clock than the man’s bed you're in.

There’s no way you’ll make it back to your apartment to change and to brunch with your parents in time. Panic mode induced.

But the ruckus of trying to gather your shit and get dressed at the same time does wake Matt up (you suppose, in hindsight, that attempting to yank jeans up with one hand and buckle your bra with the other was not your best idea, but only because you hit your hip into the side of the dresser) and you fondly watch him rub his eyes sleepily before remembering that you need to go and resume working on fixing your jeans and bra.

“Where are you going?” Matt still sounds tired, but he’s sitting up, watching you rush around the room.

“Brunch with my parents have you seen my shirt?” The whole thing’s said as one sentence, one word maybe. Who’s got time to breathe right now?

“I just woke up.” He frowns. “Come back to bed.”

“I can’t!” It was white, you were pretty sure. Or maybe black? 

“This is not how I planned to send my Sunday.” Matt frowns.

Success, there’s something black in the corner. You go to grab it as you address that comment. “You should know by now that you win some, you lose some.”

“Hey, if I’m not allowed to use sports cliches in bed, then you’re not allowed to use them out of it!”

“Matthew!” You cry, turning toward him, shirt in hand.

“That seems like a very reasonable compromise to me!”

You are ten thoughts ahead of sports cliches by now and hold last night’s sweater up for him to see. Or, what used to be your sweater. There’s a rip down the center; it was a v-neck to begin with and was now only being held together by threads. “This isn’t!”

He hesitates, but doesn’t look sorry at all. “It was a thin sweater?”

You level him with a look. “Let me tell that to my dad today at brunch.”

“You know what, I’ll just give you something.” Matt stands, and walks toward his closet. A second later, there’s a shirt flying at you and once again, you find yourself pulling a huge Flames t-shirt over your head, this time with Matt’s number on the top left and both sleeves, and trying to make it work as an outfit. 

Matt’s got a huge grin on his face as you continue to just tug at the shirt, but finally you just give him a look. “Nothing else?”

“A dress shirt?” He offers, still grinning, unable to take his eyes off of you.

You actually contemplate it for a second-if you would be able to make it work as a dress, certain that he’s got a belt you could also snag to cinch the waist- before deciding against it. “I really have to go.”

Matt loops his arms around your waist, pressing soft kisses to the side of your neck. “Do you?”

It is...so easy to tilt your head to the side and just let Matt work, his hand travelling up his shirt. You can feel him smirk against your neck and you can’t even be mad about how smug he is about winning because it feels so good.

And then your phone buzzes and the moment is broken. 

The clock says it’s already past time for you to meet your parents and when you look at the text, it’s from your mom, letting you know they have a table. You let her know you’re on your way, but running late, and then slip the phone in your pocket.

“Fine.” Matt says, kissing you softly; a real, proper one, on the lips that sort of takes your breath away. “I’ll let you go.”

“Thanks.” You laugh, a little surprised about the kiss, which just...wasn’t something you guys did outside of bed.

And with one last brush down your arms, a tiny little pause over his number on your shoulders, he steps away, letting you go. But it’s just enough that you think you know what’s going on.

plus one

The long road trip out east gives you enough time to put your plan in action.

Unfortunately, you’re such a terrible liar, that you’re sure Matt knows something is up when he returns.

He sounds definitely hurt when you tell him that you can’t come over the night he comes home, but you’re sure that he’ll get over it pretty quickly when he sees what you’ve got planned for tomorrow’s game.

Your plan formed quickly, coming together in your mind easily. Meeting up with Sasha for lunch one day, you’d told her exactly what you wanted to do, requesting her help in getting you what you need.

She’d laughed hysterically, paused for a moment, and then laughed again. “I feel like I should be saying I told you so here. Somehow, someway, this feels like the moment for that.”

“People who lived in glass houses for over a year shouldn’t throw stones like that.”

That sobers her up, but only enough to stop laughing uncontrollably. She’s still giggling when she speaks. “Fair enough.”

“So can you get it for me?”

“What, he won’t give it to you?” She asks.

“I’m trying to do a thing here.” You tell her.

“Ah.” She says. “Alright, let me see what I can do.”

And so the day after their two week road trip, you found yourself standing in the hallway outside the locker room with Sasha and Ali, waiting for Matt to come out, the Tkachuk jersey feeling heavier than any other time you’ve worn his name before, and knowing that it has everything to do with the gesture you’re hoping it to be.

It seems like the entire organization comes out of the locker room before Matt does, so you endure knowing grins from both Johnny and Noah, as well as multiple other teammates you’re starting to recognize more and more, before Matt finally steps out.

He’s texting as he walks toward you, looking fine as hell in his suit and a little soft from his shower. You can feel the smile grow on your face as your phone buzzes in your back pocket, but you don’t have to pull it out to know who the text is from.

“Hey.”

Matt stops walking and looks up, shock clear in his face. His eyes flutter to his phone quickly and then back to you, like he’s wondering how you got there so quickly, but it only takes a minute before his eyes find the “A” on the corner of your jersey and the “19” on the sleeves. “Hi.”

You’re a little surprised he doesn’t have more to say than that, considering he never stops talking, but he seems content to let his eyes wander over his jersey on you. “Sorry I couldn’t come over last night.” You say, filling the quiet between you and tugging on the hem of the jersey to illustrate your point. “But I really did have some errands to run.”

Matt starts to grin. “You could have come over and saved yourself a few bucks.”

“You think I paid for this garbage?” You scoff and he’s crossing the hall to you in three steps to pull you into his arms.

“I hope you didn’t.” He says, holding you close to him and it takes everything in you not to just press up onto your tippy toes and kiss him, but you shake your head to clear it so you can finish your bit, making a mental note to thank Sasha for coming in clutch and managing to get the jersey for you without Matt knowing. “Would sure be a waste for my girlfriend to spend money on something I’d just give her anyway.”

“Awfully presumptuous.” 

“So tell me I’m wrong.” He grins cockily.

“You know what a shitty liar I am.” You start to return the smile but Matt’s kissing the grin off your face the second you finish speaking.

[ifmywishescametrue]

sleep without you

a little stevetony fluff for my @stb-bingo square: i3 - capsicle

Steve wakes with a start, cold settled deep in his bones in the suffocating darkness of his bedroom. He reaches for the string on the lamp and misses the first time with shaking hands, but the pale yellow light makes it slightly easier to breathe when he gets it on the second try. The little clock on his nightstand tells him it’s just after two in the morning. His alarm won’t go off for another four hours, but the tightness in his chest tells him he won’t be getting even a minute of those hours.

He doesn’t like to stay in bed on nights like this, so he pushes the covers off, shivering as the air hits his sweat-slick skin. The elevator ride to the common floor takes less than thirty seconds, and the lights come on automatically to bathe the living space with just the right amount of white glow.

The remote for the television is nowhere to be seen, and he searches for it in the cracks between cushions and under blankets, until he finally finds it underneath the couch. He could ask JARVIS, he knows, but there’s something about holding a solid thing in his hand that always helps.

He flips channels mindlessly for a while, seeing flashes of dark water every time the screen goes black in between the changing images. After a while, he settles for a rerun of some sitcom he was in the ice for originally. He doesn’t know the characters, and he forces himself to focus on trying to understand the plot so that he can’t think of anything else. That’s probably why he doesn’t notice that he isn’t alone anymore until a hand is on his shoulder. Steve reaches up on instinct to grab at the other person’s wrist, jumping up from the couch.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” they say, and Steve knows that voice, though he’s having trouble placing it. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

Oh, Tony, Steve thinks, and relief floods his veins.

“Uh, your grip is a little tight there, Cap. Mind letting up there a bit?”

Steve’s grip slackens immediately, and he stumbles back. Guilt filters in a second later, and the stammered apology starts. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean - you’re okay, right? Did I - did I hurt you?”

Tony steps around the arm of the couch, and Steve fights the urge to take a step back in response. As if he can sense it, Tony gives him a soft smile and says, “Relax, Steve. You didn’t hurt me, and even if you did, it’d be my own fault for sneaking up on you in the middle of the night. Not my best call, I’ll admit.”

Steve lets him close the distance between the two of them, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart, which Tony must be feeling underneath the palm he places on Steve’s chest. He puts his hand over Tony’s, threading their fingers together. Leaning in, he lets his head drop down to rest their foreheads together.

“You weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow,” Steve murmurs with closed eyes. “It’s only Thursday.”

Tony hums, and his other hand comes up to card through Steve’s hair. “Managed to wrap things up ahead of schedule. Got back on the plane the second I could.”

Tony’s nails drag slowly across his scalp, light and soothing. Steve lets himself sink into the feeling, and it’s a much better distraction than anything else he’s tried tonight.

“Wanna talk about what’s got you up so late, honey?” Tony asks.

Steve shakes his head almost imperceptibly. “Just no good at sleeping without you.”

He doesn’t have to say it outright for Tony to know exactly what he means. They’ve weathered enough of these storms together for Tony to know that Steve dreams of ice and trains and gunfire and for Steve to know that Tony dreams of endless darkness and caves and falling. It’s better when they’re together - when Steve can wake up to the feeling of Tony’s weight on his chest or his arms wrapped around him and know instantly that he’s safe. But business trips and missions mean nights spent alone sometimes, and both of them are still learning how to feel okay again when they’re alone.

“I know the feeling,” Tony says. “Haven’t slept much since last Wednesday myself. Hotel bed felt all wrong without you taking up ninety percent of it.”

Steve smiles at the old, familiar argument, “I don’t take up that much.”

“Mm, sure you don’t, sweetheart.”

“Not my fault you’re so small.”

Tony scoffs, but Steve knows that if he were to open his eyes right now, there would be a grin on his face. “I’m perfectly averaged sized, and you know it.”

“Small. So, so very small. Practically pocket sized.”

“Whatever,” Tony laughs, and Steve does open his eyes this time to see it. He didn’t get a very good look at him before, not when he was too busy being terrified that he hurt him, and Steve has missed the sight of him. He’s still dressed in the charcoal gray suit he must have worn to his meetings earlier, though his blue dress shirt is unbuttoned at the top and the tie is long gone. His eyes are warm, but there’s a clear tiredness about him that’s settled in deep over their time apart.

Steve lifts his hand, running his thumb over one of the dark circles under Tony’s eyes. “We should get you to bed,” he says, as though he’s the one doing Tony a favor here. As if Tony didn’t walk right in and redeem his entire day in all of five seconds.

“You should absolutely take me to bed,” Tony smiles, wrapping his arms around Steve’s shoulders. “And you should also skip your morning run, because I need at least eight uninterrupted hours with you, starting right now.”

Steve kisses him, slowly to make up for all the ones they didn’t get in the last week, and a rush of warmth flushes away the last of the ice in his veins.

“I’m all yours, sweetheart.”

[drxwsyni]

Prey ︱ Yandere Keigo Takami x f!Reader

@theladyshinigami asked: “Hello! First of all, I've been looking for an account like yours for a long ass time, so thank you for existing. Second, may I request a yandere Hawks pinning for a foreigner with a siren quirk that can hypnotize people when she sings? Thanks again”

a/n: thanks for the request babes! hope you like how this turned out!

warnings: swearing, drugging, mild violence, mention of mutilation

2.9k words

It had been no surprise when the people around you deemed your future to be damned after hearing about your quirk.

Like the mythical siren, you could hypnotize people just by singing to them. It put them under a trance, allowing you to do whatever you saw fit with their mindless bodies. As much as you knew it would be more honourable to take the high road and contain your abilities, the potential it held was too great to pass up.

Now, you weren’t a ruthless killer or anything of the sort. No—you simply used your abilities every so often on the unsuspecting lowlife who probably deserved a little bad luck. Almost like a vigilante of sorts.

For the longest time your actions went unnoticed. You were smart—never staying in one place for too long. The fruits of your labor even brought you to different countries.

But good things could only last for so long, and much to your dismay—a certain avian hero picked up on your actions.

In any other case, this would’ve meant the end of your less than honourable career. But instead, the man you came to know as Hawks chose to turn a blind eye to your antics. You should be grateful—your slip up didn’t end with you in prison.

But the reality you faced now was by no means preferable.

Since being initially caught in the act, you could feel an almost constant looming presence above you. Distant, but there nonetheless. You never actually saw anything that would hint at a shadow, but the blanketed weight of instinct was undeniable. Most notably so was when you were forced to lure in unsuspecting criminals to make ends meet.

A once simple and painless task was now something you dreaded.

The crimson vale of feathers would flash before you, their owner taking a stance when you had the job done. By then you’d swiped any necessary valuables from your latest victim—but that never seemed to bother him. Like the visible vacantness of any belongings from them wasn’t a problem whatsoever, the winged hero would tie up your loose ends. Even said you were helping him out, despite your assistance not exactly being legal.

It lasted like that for a long time. Slowly, you grew to hate the means in which you kept yourself on your feet. Not because your sense of morals were shifting to hold concern for those unfortunate enough to be caught in your sights. Rather, it was because of the sights you were caught in.

Those narrowed and piercing—searching eyes always found you in your worst times. And his attitude, it was enough to give you an aneurism. So nonchalant with his dismissal of your behaviour, such a thing that goes against everything he stands for.

But perhaps, this should’ve been the first red flag that showed you he wasn’t the hero everyone knew him to be—something you were supposed to pick up on and use it to your advantage.

You didn’t have time for that though. It was more important to simply erase his taunting words and carelessly intrusive behaviour from your mind for the sake of your sanity. That, and you were much more concerned with making your next move—one that’d hopefully lead you out of the country.

Or at least far enough away from Hawks.

The back and forth to the pawn shop wasn’t the most enjoyable outing, but it was necessary. You could sense that the owners were at least a little suspicious of how much you frequented their establishment—especially given the items you’d exchanged.

Thankfully, the shop was on the bad side of town, meaning they were quite used to people like yourself. Slowly but surely, the stash you kept hidden in a floor vent in your shambly apartment grew steadily. It wasn’t much at first, but as of late you were making a point to be increasingly active with your efforts.

Everything finally came down to one night—you being immensely grateful to your recent catch. The old man was practically dripping with sin, along with undeserved riches to boot. You’d followed him from the luxurious nightclub, where you knew some less than honourable individuals did depraved things to the vulnerable.

It was just your luck—the man was mind numbingly drunk, stumbling back and forth on his feet in an attempt at a walk in a straight line.

While your quirk wouldn’t get rid of his uneasiness, it would give him more motivation to make his way towards a certain direction. One that led him right into your hands, along with his overpriced belongings.

The deed was done in less than a minute—speed being essential in not getting caught. But you weren’t the only one who held that strength to a high standard. Just as you were pocketing the last of his trinkets, you glanced upwards towards the pitch black night sky. Your eyes focused on the abyssal expanse for a few seconds—now was about the time you’d expect the crimson of his wings to grace your presence. It’d be followed by his unbearably confident remarks, and the frustrating way he’d disregard you as a threat.

But the last minute arrival never came. For the first time since you met him, Hawks didn’t show up to court off your latest prey to the police. Frankly, you didn’t mind it.

The man would never know it was you anyways, you being safe enough to keep your face hidden from prying eyes. It just meant you could return home, one very successful haul in tow with complete peace befalling your mind. No dealing with Hawks’ irritating antics—just a quiet walk back all by yourself.

Naturally, the night’s events had you in high spirits. If your calculations were correct, this would be just enough for your stash to equal out to an amount sufficient enough to get you moving again.

The thought brought a smile to your face, and with a spring in your step you trailed back to the cheap and small apartment complex you called your temporary home.

Every time you opened the front door you cringed at the sound of rusty metal rubbing together on the hinges. Now was no different as you shut the rickety frame back into its closed position, sliding the lock into place.

Removing your shoes with a sigh, you trudged to the back of the apartment where your bedroom was stationed. A cold breeze washed over you as you pushed the slightly ajar door open fully. The window was open, causing the curtains to sway under the wind's influence. Shivering slightly at the sensation, you threw your bag onto the bed and made your way to the worn down looking window.

The lock never worked on the damn thing, so there was never a need to care about if it was closed or not. But on a chilly night like tonight, you mentally cursed yourself for not taking more care in regarding it before you left. It got hot in the daytime, often resulting in it being left open for the most part. It’s only expected that every now and then you’d leave the damned thing like that, now mentally cursing yourself for doing so as the room’s temperature was unpleasantly low, shutting it with a thud.

You moved back towards your bed, unzipping your backpack and emptying the contents atop the duvet. Sorting things was always the most interesting part of your night—seeing just what people were willing to spend their money on. You picked up the wad of cash first, being decent enough not to just take his whole wallet. After thumbing through the stack, you took a bobby pin laying on your nightstand and clipped it over the papers, holding them all together.

In your early days of using your quirk to your advantage, you made the mistake of keeping all of your findings in one place. Call it karma, but at one point you were the one being robbed, both cash and other luxurious items going missing.

Now, you were smarter than that. Learning from your mistakes, you kept the two piles separate. At the moment, all cash was hidden in the floor vent.

Getting on your knees in front of the grating, you lifted the top off, letting the light from the room’s lamp flood into the small space.

The cash was gone.

Your hand dived into the metal-lined crevice, sweeping back and forth frantically. There was no way it could’ve fallen back further into the vent. The heating didn’t push that way, and even if it did you always kept the cash bundled—it was too heavy to be blown away out of arm's reach.

Your heart sunk into your chest, a gut wrenching despair taking hold of you.

“Looking for something?”

That voice—you knew who it belonged to before your head whipped around to face the direction it came from. Standing in the doorway to the bedroom, wings outstretched almost threateningly was the avian hero you’d come to hate.

And god, that smirk plastered across his face. He always wore it, like the damn thing was a permanent expression solidified into his being.

You stilled your actions, eyes unmoving from him. “Where’s my cash?” In a way, you could almost take pride in how you managed to keep a calm and steady voice. The rage was still there, but it was contained—for now.

Hawks moved past the doorway, casually stepping towards the closest nightstand. Like he hadn’t even heard you question, he idly picked up a framed photo—the only one you had of your home town that was thousands of miles away. You’d taken the shot at sundown, showcasing all its best features in the honeyed lighting cascading over it.

“Y’know, it’s almost impressive—the money you rake in.” He was still looking at the photo, eyes searching the minuscule details your camera picked up—one that you had to sell for some extra cash in the early days.

He set the frame down, smirk falling ever so slightly. It was the first time he looked even remotely serious—the casual leaned back stance doing nothing when you saw the dangerous glint in his eyes. “I simply...took it upon myself to donate the cash to a better cause.”

Your blood ran cold, the constricting feeling in your chest tightening at his words. For a moment you couldn’t respond, too mortified by his statement. The room was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop, until forcing yourself out of a stupor, you responded. “...You did what?”

In the most condescending tone of voice you’d ever heard, the winged man replied. “Hey, don’t look so surprised. I mean what were you even gonna do with it anyways?”

Still kneeling on the floor, you felt pure, seething hatred for the hero in front of you. “What was I—I was going to use it to get away from your deranged ass!”

The sound of your raised and angered voice reverberated off the walls, him paying no mind to it. “Oh, were you now?”

Almost in a lazy manner, Hawks pushed off the nightstand he was leaning on. “C’mon, you didn’t really think I’d let you get away with robbing people.” The sound of his boots hitting the floor seemed louder than they should’ve as he stalked towards your frozen form. “I mean that would be so...unheroic of me, after all.”

Even in the dim lighting of the room, his eyes were almost inhumanely bright as he looked at you like you were a piece of fresh meat.

You should’ve known this would happen. All this time spent putting together enough cash just to get yourself out of this city and far away from the man looming over you—none of it really mattering in then end.

Not if you couldn’t get out of here.

The stash of money might be gone, but you still had the belongings on your bed. They would go for a good price, and if you played your cards right it’d be enough to get you far enough away from him. It would be tight—but it’s possible.

As far as you were concerned, Hawks was no more virtuous than the lowly individuals you entranced with your quirk. It may have taken this moment to solidify it, but now you knew who he was.

Not a hero, just a man pretending to be one for his own gains.

You opened your mouth, prepared to voice whatever melody came to mind. The feeling of a hand clamping over it came before you could manage a noise, and then your back colliding with the cold hardwood.

The feeling of Hawk’s weight on your body felt crushing, rendering you completely immobilized underneath him. He had you hands pinned above your head with his free one in an almost bruising grip, you unable to move away as he sat on your hips.

“Ah ah ah—little bird.” He grunted through the words, still steady as you made some final weak attempts to throw him off before resigning to your predicament for the moment.

Hawks let a few seconds go by after you stilled, eyeing you warily in a way that you could only assume was to make sure you were fully calmed down. He let out a breathy sigh, “So, here’s how this is gonna work…”

He paused, lips upturning ever so slightly before continuing. “I’m gonna take my hand off, and if I hear so much as a peep from you, I’ll rip your fucking vocal cords out. Got it?” The casual look to his face gave a stark and disturbing contrast to his gruesome words.

You swallowed dryly, tears prickling in your eyes. He knew how much weight those words held—your quirk riding on the fact that your means of speaking were intact.

The winged man tilted his head slightly, a look of what felt like fake concern flashing across his face. “Hey, don’t go looking so scared. I don’t wanna do that, I promise.”

His words did little to ease your worries—the promise meaning absolutely nothing to you.

“Now, if you behave then maybe I’ll consider keeping you awake on the way home, okay?”

On the way home—what the fuck is he talking about?

A crease formed between your brows in confusion, mind racing from unknown sentiment. One might think you’d been running for miles with the way your heart beat was hammering inside your ribcage. But it would turn out that fear was much better at producing the same effect.

If you could manage even a second to use your quirk, he’d be done for. You shakily nodded your head, the grip on your face making the action somewhat difficult.

Hawks seemed pleased with your forced compliance, smirk widening in satisfaction.

“There’s my good little bird, now—”

His hand lifted from your mouth, and without hesitation you activated your quirk.

Or at least you tried.

You should’ve known, the man pinning you to the ground was notorious for being incredulously fast. So much so that you didn’t even see him move, only registering the feeling of a cloth sealing over your mouth and nose.

That smell—sickeningly sweet. Your eyes blew wide at the realization, body thrashing beneath him. Looking at him pleadingly didn’t work, especially when the tears running down your face blurred your vision. In the midst of you violently kicking and attempting to throw him off you, Hawks effortlessly dealt with the consequences to your actions.

“Don’t be like that, I tried—”

Even in your weakening state, you managed to knee him hard. But it was no more in force than a kitten scratch. It may have taken him off guard, even interrupting his train of thought, but he was still the one on top.

You knew you would have bruises later on, but that was the least of your worries right now.

“I tried to warn you, and it’s only fair that I hold up my end of the deal.”

The strenuous efforts of your resistance had you sucking in involuntary gulps of breath in exhaustion. You could feel your mind spinning, not being able to focus on any one thing in particular. It was a lightheaded sensation, you not even realizing that your limbs fell almost completely limp in his hold.

Your focus drifted away from the avian human above you, landing on the once opened bedroom window. Your eyelids felt increasingly heavy, once loudly muffled screams turning into defeated whimpers—and then silence.

Hawks released his iron hold on your wrists, leaning back with a deep and relieved sigh. The cloth was shoved back into his pocket, and he mentally thanked himself for bringing his car so he wouldn’t have to fly you back to his apartment for everyone to see.

It wasn’t the first time he regarded your sleeping form, face peaceful and distinctively not contorted with fear—and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. He’d known your caution well, seeing it in action the countless times he’d pry his eyes into your life. Whether it be from above on those late nights of you scrounging for cash, or through your window as you sifted through the stockpile of valuable collections. Always thinking that your efforts of evasion were enough.

Surely, after going so long with the same routine—laying low and moving against those who had bad luck coming when the opportunity arose—this new stop in your travels would show no need for change. Even when he made his presence obvious, you stayed set in your ways.

You didn’t deem him a threat. You thought that you were the apex predator, and he was nothing more than a scavenger reaping the rewards of your latest catch.

And now, he would teach you that no—he was the predator, and you were the prey.

[johaerys-writes]

Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan

A World With You, Chapter 39: Rebel Song

The gang returns to the war-torn Orlesian countryside, and the welcome they receive is far from warm. Banter and action, this time with even more terrible jokes because Sera has come with :’D

Read on AO3! Or read from the beginning

Tristan rubbed his eyes with a yawn. The steady rocking of his horse and the thick, humid heat was making him sleepy. His backside wasn’t at its best either, admittedly: they had been riding for the better part of the week, and this day was already drawing near its end.

The journey through the Orlesian countryside had been everything that Tristan had expected, and worse. So, so much worse. His advisors had warned him that things would be different from when he had last been to the place, but even their expectations had been inaccurate, by a fairly large margin.

He and his party had followed the Imperial Highway for as long as they could- the only road, really, that was still accessible to travellers for the most part. Most other great roads, as the various Inquisition agents at the outposts they had stopped along the way had informed them, had been closed off by the barricades set up by either Gaspard’s or Celene’s armies, or were unsafe for small groups to traverse. That, too, was new: the number of outlaws and bandits had increased tenfold during the months Tristan had been away- and it hadn’t exactly been smooth sailing the last time, either. Last time around it had been bands of Freemen roaming the land- this time, it was men and women that evidently had even less than the deserters from the armies to lose and preyed on whoever was poor or desperate enough to travel the countryside alone without arms or protection. They were vicious, but cowardly, never taking on large or armed groups, and swore no allegiance to anyone at all.

Which raised the question: where were the Freemen?

“There haven’t been any sightings in weeks, Ser,” an Inquisition scout informed him, when they’d stopped for the night at an Inquisition camp just past Lydes. “After word has spread of your victory in the Emerald Graves, most of their camps were deserted soon after. Some say that they’ve returned to their homes, those who still had one, while others claim they have all moved out of the plains and gone to the West, where there are still empty places for them to settle, and no one to come after them.”

“The West?” Tristan had asked the young woman in curiosity. “There’s nothing past here at all, and all western roads lead to the Badlands. Even the Freemen that are left cannot be that desperate.”

The scout had simply shrugged.

It didn’t make much sense to Tristan- but then again, not much of what the Freemen did made sense to him. For the next few days, as they steadily trudged along the Imperial Highway, alongside throngs of refugees and the occasional merchant caravan that was still bold enough to brave the war-torn countryside, they kept passing by abandoned camps, or the old manors and watchtowers that had been claimed, rummaged, and then left to ruin by the Freemen. Apart from the occasional travel weary and worn down infantry division from either Celene’s or Gaspard’s armies, whose officers merely pretended to keep an eye over the towns and villages that had been claimed during the war, the only other people they encountered were beggars or tired and scared men, women and children with dirt smudged faces and clothes that were about to fall off their skinny shoulders.

Orlais really, really couldn’t get much worse than this.

With a sigh, Tristan straightened on his saddle, rolled his shoulders, tilted his head this way and that. Travelling on horseback all day did not agree with him, and the devastation all around him did nothing to lift his mood. He could feel his stomach churning and his head throbbing ever so slightly as the rays of the setting sun fell straight into his eyes. The only thing that settled his upset stomach on those days was his fine Antivan brandy, though he had been careful not to drink too much. He needed to stay alert, and the humid heat that surrounded them like a blanket took most of the edge off all by itself. Tristan could already feel his eyelids drooping, and it wasn’t even nightfall yet.

Well. One swig couldn’t hurt much, could it?

From atop his bay gelding, Dorian shot him a curious look when he saw him tipping his flak over his lips. Tristan swallowed the mouthful of brandy, then raised his eyebrows at him in question.

“How come you still have enough of this?” Dorian asked him in a low voice, steering his horse so he was riding beside him. “I thought you would have finished it days ago.”

“I’ve been careful with it,” Tristan replied as he carefully screwed the flask’s cap shut. “I only brought the one, and we still have weeks ahead of us. What?” he asked when Dorian blinked.

“Nothing, nothing. I’m just… impressed that’s all.”

“Are you? I don’t know whether to feel proud or concerned that you think my resolve so brittle.”

“Brittle?” Dorian chuckled softly, “Not at all. I don’t know anyone that’s more stubborn than you are, in fact.”

“Except for you, you mean?” Dorian rolled his eyes, and Tristan grinned. How he liked to tease him. His lips that pursed ever so slightly, his eyebrow that lifted just a bit, the rueful little glances he shot him out of the corner of his eye before he looked away. How he managed to be irresistible even when irked, Tristan could never understand. It made him want to tease him all the more.

“In any case,” Tristan said casually, slipping the flask back in his coat pocket, “if you wanted a sip, all you had to do is ask. I’ve seen how you keep eyeing my flask.”

Dorian huffed a laugh. “Trust me, amatus, your flask is the last thing I keep eyeing.”

“Yeah, amatusss, your ‘flask’ is the last thing he’s been eyeing,” Sera snickered from the next horse over. “The first thing he’s been eyeing is your—”

“Sera,” Dorian hissed in warning. “Don’t say it. Don’t you dare.”

“What? I was only going to say his arse.”

Dorian turned to glare at her, outrage writ all over his face. Sera burst out in wicked, high pitched laughter that made several of the weary travellers that were trailing alongside them on the Highway stop and gawk at them. Tristan bit his lip down hard to stop himself from laughing as well, but it wasn’t long before Dorian’s murderous glare was directed at him.

“You, too?” Dorian asked him pointedly.

Tristan gave him an apologetic little smile, still trying to stop himself from following Sera’s example, who seemed incredibly amused at having riled Dorian. “I mean,” he said in a strained voice, trying his best to keep a straight face, “she’s probably right. You’re not very subtle.”

Dorian clicked his tongue and punched him lightly on the shoulder, just as Sera slapped her thigh and cackled even more loudly. She laughed until her brown gelding whinnied in protest to her jerky movements and tossed its head back, causing Sera to almost lose her balance.

Dorian sniffed in disdain, then kicked his horse forward, his back straight and his head held high in defiance.

“Oh, come on—” Tristan laughed, following him with Almond. “It was just a joke!”

“No, it wasn’t!” Sera cackled after them both. “I call them like I see them!”

“Not listening!” Dorian replied with a wave of his hand, his golden rings glittering in the disappearing evening light.

From atop his horse, Iron Bull let out a deep, throaty chuckle. He stood almost two heads taller than everyone else, sitting tall and straight on the enormous draft horse Master Dennet had managed to find for him. It was a tough and calm mount, slow but sure footed, meant to draw carriages and plough carts rather than being ridden, but there had been no other horse suitable for the large Qunari.

It’s no Asaarash,  Iron Bull had said when he saw it, but it will have to do. Better than my own legs could, anyhow.

“With all the racket you three keep making," he said, "I’m surprised no Freemen have come crawling out of their hideouts to attack us. I would kill for some entertainment right now.” He winked at Solas, who was riding beside him on his chestnut coloured hart, “Get it, Solas? Kill for entertainment?”

Solas let out a small, exasperated sigh. “Yes, I do get it, Iron Bull. Unfortunately, the jest continues to be lost on me, as it has been the last five times you said it.”

“Ah, that’s ‘cause none of you can appreciate a good joke,” Bull laughed with a dismissive wave. “I tell you, those guys are just hiding in the bushes, waiting for us to lower our guard.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Want to bet on it?” Bull grinned.

Solas only frowned and looked ahead of him.

After this, they rode for a while in blissful silence, with Dorian’s annoyed pout relenting only after Tristan promised not to tease him again, then proceeded to peel an apple for him and carve it in the shape of a duck with one of his sharpest knives. It didn't look particularly good, but the apple was still sweet and crisp, and a soft blush had crept up Dorian's cheeks when he'd accepted it, so Tristan couldn't complain much.

Darkness fell all around them, and with it heavy clouds gathered overhead and a thick layer of mist covered the earth. The terrain changed slowly and steadily, with the tall grasses giving way to small thickets dispersed through the expansive land, and the flat plains rising in low, rolling hills. The air was so thick and humid that it made Tristan’s clothes stick to his skin, and the horses’ movements slow and sluggish. It wasn’t long before a droplet fell on his head, then another. Soon, raindrops were gliding past Tristan’s collar and the openings of his boots, warm like sweat.

“We’ll need to find shelter soon,” Tristan told them all, squinting in the half dark. The people travelling alongside them had dispersed with the approaching dusk and the rain, until it was just the five of them on the wide, hard packed dirt road. They should have reached the Inquisition outpost close to Verchiel a good two hours before, but the barricade that had been set up by Celene's soldiers at the Fleurcolline passage had greatly delayed them. Now they were stuck in the middle of nowhere, and with not much hope of reaching the outpost until dawn came.

“We can’t ride for long in this weather," Tristan said, gathering his coat around him, "and it’s dangerous to travel after dark.”

The rest of his party didn’t seem overly pleased to continue travelling like this either, with Dorian muttering curses under his breath as he wrapped himself in his leather overcoat, and Sera’s gelding tossing its head back in annoyance whenever the elf fidgeted on the saddle, which was a near constant occurrence. Bull and Solas seemed far less perturbed by the foul weather, yet no less tired.

“Shall we set up camp?” Solas asked, looking around.

“If you can find a decent spot,” Tristan grumbled. There was open space all around them, with only a few thickets of miserable trees that would probably not provide any shelter from the rain. The ground, too, was covered in mud, and he didn’t relish the notion of sleeping in a soddy tent, or having a miserable dinner of hardtack and cold cheese. Even Dorian’s and Solas’ magic couldn’t keep a fire going for long if there was no dry wood to be found.  

He let his gaze wander off into the distance, and was rewarded when he saw flickering lights, not too far ahead. A glance at his map confirmed his hopes; there was a small town nearby, one that the agents of the Inquisition they had last met had said was amongst the last standing this side of Orlais.

“What are we waiting for, then?” Sera asked when Tristan drew all of their attention to the village. “On we go, chop chop! Been dying for a mug of ale for hours.”

Solas glanced at the lights warily. “Do you know who is in charge of this town?”

“No one, as far as the scouts knew,” Tristan answered. Horville, as the place was called, used to be a crossroads town, meant for merchant caravans to stop and rest their horses and riders. Most of the buildings were inns and shops, with only a few houses for the people who worked there. After the war had broken out, it had been primarily frequented by the infantry and cavalry divisions that crossed the plains from time to time, staying only for a short while before moving on to the next post. It had been intentionally kept as a neutral ground of sorts, with no one army claiming ownership over the small town and its businesses.

Solas’ expression darkened. “No one that we can see, perhaps.”

Tristan considered Solas’ words for a few moments. Perhaps it was somewhat reckless to walk into a town that they knew so little about, but in the end his hunger and exhaustion seemed to overcome his suspicions. Dorian and Sera were none too quick to agree when he suggested they all ride to the small town in search of an inn to spend the night. No matter who was in charge of the village, they would hardly deny some weary travellers some rest, especially those with coin to spend. Right?

“Who are you, and what business have you?”

The guard standing behind the oak and iron-wrought gate had a gruff voice and an ever gruffer appearance, only partially illuminated by the lamp he held before his face. It was half hidden by his dark hood, but Tristan could still see the unkempt beard and the pock marks on his cheeks. Despite his rough appearance though, his cloak seemed sturdy and well made, and the leather handle of his sword hilt freshly worked. Business was going well in Horville, it seemed.

Tristan pushed his own hood back, and in his best Orlesian, he said, “We’re travellers, looking for shelter from this rain. A warm meal, too, and some drink to wash it down. Are you not going to let us in?”

The man squinted at them. “Don’t get many travellers like yourselves around these parts. Not anymore.”

“It appears you have now.” He let his lips curl in a cold smile, willfully ignoring the man’s hand that was already straying to his sword. His own hand slithered within the folds of his coat, pulling out his coin purse. “We’re not going to be any trouble. I assure you.”

The gold coin that Tristan tossed in his direction flipped in a small arc, catching the light of the lamp before it was snatched in the air by the guard’s practiced hand. The man’s beady black eyes widened when he beheld the coin, then his gaze flicked to each one of them in turn. After a few brief moments of intense scrutiny, he sniffed and jerked his head to the side, signalling for the men behind the gates to let them in.

“Keep an eye on your beast,” he said gruffly as their horses passed him by, shooting a baleful look at the Iron Bull’s horns. Tristan turned to glare at him, but the man only sniffed again and spat on the ground.

“Sour tit,” Sera mumbled under her breath, glaring daggers at the man over her shoulder. “Should have looked at his own ugly mug.”

“Pay him no mind, Bull,” Tristan told the Qunari in a low voice as he led his horse down the narrow cobblestone street. “Most of these people have never seen a Qunari before in their lives.”

“No worries, Boss,” Bull said, his lips widening in his usual, easy smile. “I’ve heard worse while sparring with the boys. These guys have probably seen their share of trouble. Can’t blame them for being cautious.”

Read the rest on AO3!

[yutaya]

Iron Fist Week Day 7: minor character/missing scene

Albert is a man. A man... with a van.

He's proud of his van. Sure it was a bitch and a half to get certified and sometimes trying to drive three freaking blocks in this city when he's having a bad enough day can threaten to put his blood pressure through the roof, but he's ground out an honest living for himself with it. That's no mean feat, in this neighborhood.

Plus, Al likes his job. It involves a lot of visiting every nook and cranny of the area, meeting loads of people at varying levels of talkative - it's a job that requires someone personable, and Al doesn't think it's too immodest to say that he fits the bill.

Staring down a fully loaded armoire, though, Al can admit to himself that there are times he's less fond of this job than others.

By the time he's got the thing down on the sidewalk, doors and drawers bound shut and with an initial layer of wrapping to protect it from pedestrian traffic while he sets up the loader, Al has mentally added two upticks to his pain-in-the-ass fee.

"Woah, can I help you with that?"

Al pauses in his transferring long enough to take a look at who's spoken. It's a white guy, 20s, a little scruffy but looks comfortable, and, most importantly, seems genuine.

Al smiles at him. "I appreciate the offer, but these need to be moved in a specific way to prevent scuffing."

"Oh." Al goes back to loading the armoire. "...Would you show me?" Al pauses again. Looks back at the guy. "I'm Danny, by the way," he adds, and smiles beatifically.

Al blinks up at the sky. Had the sun shone more brightly for a second, there? He turns back to wrapping the furniture with blankets and bungee cords. "You need to move a lot of furniture, Danny?" he asks while he works. Engaging in friendly conversation with strangers is second nature to him, at this point.

Danny, who has the courtesy to remain standing out on the street behind the van as they talk, bounces a little as he replies. "Yes, actually! My girlfriend and I have been redoing her apartment."

"Wow, big project. Hey, if you guys need stuff moved around, I've got you covered. Back and forth from the storage unit, delivering your new stuff from the store, bringing your old stuff wherever it's going... My rates are fair and, as you can see, I'd actually take care of your things." He pats the carefully cushioned furniture from his current job in indication.

Danny laughs a little, looking at it. "At least that isn't a piano, right?"

"Hey man, pianos have wheels. I can walk them right up the ramp."

Danny eyes the ramp Al uses with the handtrucks. "Isn't it too skinny?"

Al laughs again. "What kind of piano are you picturing, a grand?" As if anyone who owned one of those would be hiring Al to move it. As if anyone who owned one of those would be living in this area at all.

Danny shrugs, unbothered. "I haven't seen one since I was a kid. Maybe it seemed bigger back then." A beat passes, and then Danny continues talking, the oversharing sort of babble symptomatic of the sleep-deprived. "Anyway, we'll definitely call you for help with our stuff. And you can show me all the right ways to handle everything! I'm probably going to be doing a lot of rearranging furniture and stuff since Colleen is out at Bayard all the time now; she keeps talking about helping the community during the daytime - Colleen's my girlfriend, she's the best - and, I mean, she's right, of course, plus, we just got back to the city and I am not used to not having to do something -" he cuts himself off, lighting up. "Hey, could I get a job with you?"

Al startles. He can usually recognize when someone's coming at that angle. Granted, they usually don't seem to stumble into it by mistake.

"The shop down the street is hiring," he offers. "On the corner."

"Thanks! I'd like to work for this business, though."

Al pauses. Revaluates "Danny". There are only so many reasons someone would be looking for a moving job specifically, and in this neighborhood, the most likely scenario is one that Al has been very carefully steering clear of for 30 years.

"I appreciate the interest," he repeats cautiously, "but we're a small business. I'm afraid we don't really have the means to hire right now." It's a bit of a risk, revealing a vulnerability like that. Luckily, Albert is overstating it a bit; it won't be that easy for any of the triads to put financial pressure on him, and, well. He's stubborn. He swore a long time ago that he wouldn't go there.

"Oh, that's not a problem!" Danny says brightly. "You wouldn't need to pay me. I'm more looking for the experience, you know? I've never had a normal job, and Colleen thinks it'll be good for us to start over."

The alarm bell clanging in Al's head rises to a shriek, then falters. If this is a ploy, it is astoundingly poorly executed. If this guy is in with any sort of organized crime, he can't be more than a fledgling recruit. Al feels a moral obligation to try and steer him better, even if his self preservation instincts disagree.

"Look," Al says, watching Danny's face carefully. "I'm running an honest business, here. I'm not interested in having our name attached to anything. And, if I could offer you a word of advice?" Danny, who mostly just looks confused, nods. "Don't go saying that stuff about working for free. Depending who hears it, that's a good way to end up either severely taken advantage of, or in a coffin. Anyone you might be trying that hard to get a resource for won't be happy about you overplaying your hand."

Danny still looks confused. Al mimes swinging a hatchet. Danny's eyes go wide with clarity.

"I'm not with the triads," he says disconcertingly earnestly. "I'm the Iron Fist. I'm sworn to defend the city from people like them."

...Ok.

Well, at least this is an interesting conversation.

"If you're not with the triads, why do you want this job?"

"I guess I'm looking for something new. For fifteen years, I had one purpose. Now, it's done. Now, I need to build a new life, and..." His voice dips in a certain way with the next words, a way that makes Al's stomach sink with the familiarity of it. "...keep a promise to a friend."

Al looks at Danny, a pit in his stomach and memories in his heart. Resignation settles underneath his skin.

"You have a résumé?" he asks. At least Danny doesn't seem inclined to just throw things around, like some other shipping companies that Al could name. Royal Al Moving provides quality for its clients, thank you very much.

"I don't think so. What is that, equipment? I could buy some."

Al stares at him. He'd been expecting either an agreement to email or bring by a copy later, or a conversation along the lines of 'do I really need one?' followed by a verbal listing off of previous work or even just ability.

"Do you have any previous experience?" Al tries again. "Had any jobs before?"

"Yeah, I have," Danny says, and doesn't elaborate.

White people.

"What about ID?" Al asks, despite knowing full well he'll probably pretend not to notice if anything seems off about it.

Danny laughs a bit, seemingly unphased by his own complete lack of knowledge regarding ordinary job application/interview etiquette whatsoever. "Oh, I definitely have that. Had to fight really hard for it, too. It was almost all gone, but once everything got sorted out, we made, like, 10 new copies of everything." Danny pats around at his pockets, not appearing to notice Al's incredulous expression. "I don't have any of those with me right now, but... Ah ha!" He pulls something out triumphantly. "Business cards! I'm pretty sure my brother thought I was just going to destroy them, but my friend Jeri said it's important to always have one. It might have gone through the laundry, though, sorry."

Assuming this day can't get any weirder, like a fool, Al takes the card.

Even worn and slightly crumpled, the obnoxiously expensive quality of the original card is still clear. There's embossing and gold foil, for god's sake. The Rand Enterprises logo glints up at him almost mockingly even as the three dimensional lines of the border rise and fall under his thumb. Either seems unnecessary and frankly tone deaf for a Humanitarian Aid company, let alone both. Then again, maybe they reserve this version of the card for the executive level, those who hobnob among the elite, who need to make a certain type of impression on the too rich in order to convince them to donate well.

Because that's another thing this card reads, right there in plain English: a 9pt bold 'Daniel Rand', and under that, 'CEO'.

'What,' a little voice in Al's head wails semi-hysterically, 'the fuck?'

"Is this a joke?" Al asks out loud, vaguely surprised by how calm he sounds given the way the voice inside his head might be having a meltdown. "Am I on Candid Camera?"

But, no, wasn't he just thinking that this card is way too expensive - and thus definitely too expensive to be a prop?

"Hey, I know that one!" Danny Rand says cheerfully. "Joy and I used to watch it together!"

'Joy,' the voice in Al's head supplies. 'Joy Meachum.

'Well, at least this explains why he said he doesn't need money.

'Wait, why is he looking for a job in the first place? Is he not CEO? Did they kick him out or something? Did they disown him for wearing a hoodie with holes in it? Is that what he meant earlier when he said the thing he was doing before is over now?'

Al has never felt more rueful that he doesn't pay much attention to celebrity news.

"So," Al tries to find a way to word this that isn't 'have you been cut off or what?' "Why is Danny Rand looking for a job here?"

By "here", Al means a lot of things. This type of neighborhood, in general. Chinatown, out of all of them. At a low-wage position in a manual labor business with very little room for growth, if they're really getting into it.

"I like your name," Danny replies. It's far from the kind of answer that Al was expecting, but he finds himself unperturbed. Maybe he's hit a point where nothing is surprising anymore. "It reminds me of a friend. He was more of a Big Al than a Royal one, but I saw your logo and it seemed right."

-

(Al still pays Danny, because he refuses to be a shady business and because if he's finally getting around to setting up an employee system, he's needs to make it one that will work for anyone he might hire in the future, too. They won't all be Danny Rand. Danny keeps finding ways to immediately give it back, because he's literally a billionaire.)

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

BTS DRABBLE

It’s never difficult to be around Hoseok or Jimin. Hobi is the actual human form of sunshine 98% of the time, and Jimin is so lovely and sweet and perfect that you wonder on a daily basis if he’s not actually an angel. You’re lucky-you always realize that-but on days like today, when you’re tired and stressed and more than a little crampy-it hits you all over again-just how lucky you actually are. Because with these two men, nothing goes unnoticed, and you never go unloved. 

Or rather, Jess writes a fluffy, purely self indulgent, domestic relationship AU featuring JiHope in honor of Hobi’s birthday week. Happy Hobiuary! 💜

Tags: BTS, Bangtan Boys, Bangtan Seonyendan, Bulletproof Boy Scouts, Beyond the Scene, Jung Hoseok, J-Hope, Hobi, Hoseok, Park Jimin, Jimin, BTS x you, BTS x reader, Poly!BTS, Hoseok x you, Hoseok x reader, Jimin x you, Jimin x reader, Hoseok x Jimin, JiHope, Fluff

Genre: Tooth Rotting Fluff

Title: Champagne Bubbles

It had been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. 

As soon as you had gotten into work that morning, the vet on duty had instantly started yelling-overwhelmed and swamped by cases already-and scared of angering her any further, you hadn’t stopped running since 6 AM. 

Cut to the last hour of your shift, and you had somehow managed to get every animal substance known to man on your scrubs-you were fairly certain that last rowdy patient had peed on you more than once-and you looked, and smelled, like someone who was at the end of their metaphorical rope. 

However, you still had to take an exam at the nearby university before heading home, and so, throwing your coat on over your soiled clothes, you headed for the library, the world-dark when you left the apartment that morning-dark once more as the moon crested over the nearby buildings. 

You failed the exam. 

It was hard to drive home-what with the darkened streets and the exhausted tears starting to brim and overflow-but you managed to make it, and pulling into your spot, you allowed yourself to just sit for a moment, forehead resting forlornly on the cold steering wheel. 

This day could not get worse. 

Famous last words. 

Cut to now, as you’re walking up the last flight of stairs to your apartment, and you start to feel the telltale cramping low in your abdomen, the kind that makes you wanna crawl in bed, throw a blanket over your head, and curl up-fetal position-around a hot bean bag. 

“Dammit, why.” You groan out, reaching the landing, as you blindly dig your hand into your purse to search for your keys, a simple task, that feels like an impossible trial in your tired state. 

Good thing you had been prepared and put in a tampon that morning when you had woken with the impending signs of doom and a headache. 

Finally locating your keys, you unlock the door to the darkened apartment and let out a sigh of tired relief as you let your bag slide to the floor right in front of the entrance, kicking off your worn and smelly sneakers without a thought. 

Well, without a thought other than getting into a hot shower and falling into your bed with a heating pad and a blanket over your head. 

It’s quiet in the apartment, and you wonder briefly, if Jimin and Hobi are already asleep as you creep quietly toward the hallway. You are home a lot later than normal. 

You all rise early together every day and split ways in the parking garage-you headed for the emergency vet clinic, Jimin waving cheerfully as he leaves in his old beater for his job as manager at the local coffee shop, and Hobi driving off far too fast on his scooter toward the local arts college, where he teaches dance classes. 

You all usually go to bed early too, at the same time, together, but tonight, you’re far later than usual and the apartment is lacking the sunshine of Hobi’s bright smile and Jimin’s soft welcome home embrace. 

Your footsteps falter at the kitchen, and suddenly, you let out an audible groan, as your eyes are drawn to the kitchen sink sitting dark in one corner. 

Dammit. You still needed to do the breakfast dishes. 

Shuffling across the tile of the kitchen, you turn on the hot water and let it wash over your cold, chapped hands for a moment, before your reach into the sink blindly, searching for the first dirty dish. 

You glance down in surprise when-after moments of fruitless searching-you find nothing in the sink, and note, suddenly, that it is empty and spotless, the dishes already done and put away in the cabinets. 

Interesting. 

You don’t allow yourself to dwell on this for long however, before your tired, aching feet are leading you down the dim hallway once more, toward the safety and warmth of the bathroom and the delicious idea of hot, steaming shower for your tired and dirty body. 

Pushing open the door, careful to be quiet, in case your boyfriends are truly sleeping like you think, your eyes widen once more in surprise for the second time in as many minutes. 

The bathroom is softly aglow with the light of candles, the atmosphere warm and scented like roses and champagne, and in the flickering light, you note that the small bathtub in the corner has been filled to the brim with steaming, lapping water, perfumed with the oily slick of some sort of bath salt. 

“What the hell-” You breathe out beneath your breath, and suddenly, you don’t feel so tired anymore, and the corners of your mouth are tilting upward in the start of a fond smile, as you observe the carefully presented scene before you. 

First the dishes, and now a bath? 

The boys are definitely up to something. 

Shucking your heavy coat off onto the bathroom floor, you trek back the way you have just come, and without knocking, push open the door to the bedroom. 

The room is dimly lit by the string of clear lights that adorn the wall above the bed-giving it a cozy and soft glow-and by the flickering of a movie playing quietly on the TV. 

You lean against the door frame and take in the scene for a moment, the smile on your lips growing unwittingly bigger as you observe your boyfriends, curled up in the middle of the queen bed, piled under several blankets, looking soft and ethereal and altogether incredibly comfortable. 

Jimin looks up first, large dark eyes reflecting the light from the tv screen, blonde hair ruffled in an adorable way, as if he has just taken a shower, and smiles when he sees you, eyes creasing into half moons. “Baby girl! you’re back!” 

Hobi glances over at Jimin’s words, chin resting on the shorter man’s head where it lays on his chest, and offers you one his breathtaking smiles, and the room becomes a million times lighter, as if the sun has just peeked through the curtains. “Hey beautiful! Long day?” 

“Incredibly.” You nod, glancing over to the movie they’re watching. Some action flick you’ve never seen. “What’d you guys do, by the way?” You ask nonchalantly, slightly teasing, as you draw your attention back to them once more. 

“What do you mean?” Jimin asks, sitting up now, full lips drawn into an incredibly cute pout that you struggle to resist. 

“You know.” You motion vaguely over your shoulder. “First the dishes, now a bath?” You grin teasingly, shrugging, suddenly all too aware that you’re still in your stinky scrubs. “You guys must have done something really bad to suck up like this.” 

“You’d think, right?” Hobi jokes back, laughing loudly, as he slides away from Jimin and stands, and you note, as he comes toward you, that he’s wearing the plaid pajama bottoms you had tried so hard to throw away last year. 

He pauses in front of you, quirking his head in an endearing way, and reaches out to tuck back a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Actually though,” He offers you the hint of a soft, heart shaped smile. “We just wanted to spoil you after a long day. Is that so hard to believe?” 

“Give us some credit, baby.” Jimin has joined you both at the doorway now, and he yawns, reaching up to ruffle his already disheveled hair, before he shoots you a mischievous smile that makes his eyes light up. “We’re not completely dense.” 

“I know.” You laugh now, and the tiredness is showing through again, straining your mirth. “Thank you.” You give them both a fond, affectionate half smile, the best you can do for now. 

You have to admit, the bath is calling your name. 

“Your bath is gonna get cold.” Jimin states, as if he has read your thoughts, and he leans forward, whether to push you toward the bathroom, or hug you, you don’t know, but you avoid his hold by stepping backward. 

“Ew. Don’t touch me, Chim.” You wrinkle your nose as you glance down at your soiled work clothes. “I seriously think I was peed on like fifteen times today.” 

Jimin’s brow crinkles, and he shoots you a teasing look of disgust. “Okay. You don’t have to twist my arm. I’ll wait till you’re clean.” 

Hobi laughs, and the sound gives you the motivation you need to give them each a little grin and wave, before heading toward the bathroom and the much awaited bath. 

******

The bath rejuvenates you, and by the time you return to the bedroom, wrapped in a towel and skin red and raw from soaking, you feel like a completely new person. 

Though you can still feel the exhaustion creeping up your bones. 

The boys are back in the bed, cuddled up like before, but there is another movie going on the TV now-a chick flick-and the bedside lamp is on. 

“You started another movie without me?” You ask playfully, digging through the dresser to find your pajama shorts and tank top, one hand holding the towel securely at your chest. 

“You took too long.” Hobi complains around a mouthful of popcorn, his free arm looped loosely around Jimin’s shoulders. “We thought you drowned.” 

“And you didn’t check to see?” You jab back, glancing over your shoulder, as you finally locate your clothes, and shoot Hobi a playful glare, eyebrow raised in the man’s direction. 

He shrugs. “Didn’t want to miss the movie.” 

You roll your eyes, and start to slip your now clean legs into the pajama shorts, beginning to shiver now in the cool air of the room. 

“You know, baby girl.” Jimin speaks up now, and his normally lilting tones are darker, sultry, suggestively playful. You glance at him, and he raises a brow at you, teeth sunken slightly into his plush, bottom lip, as his eyes scan the naked expanse of your legs. “You could cut down on time. Just not wear anything. Merely a suggestion.” 

You roll your eyes once more, and stick your tongue out at him, before pointedly holding his gaze as you finish putting on the rest of your pajama outfit. 

Sliding hurriedly into the warmth of the bed next to Jimin, you are caught off guard to feel the heat of an already hot heating pad beneath the covers, and you glance over questioningly at the two men beside you. 

Jimin grins in a way that makes your stomach warm with love and fondness. “Don’t tell me you didn’t think we knew.” He cocks his head at you, blonde hair falling into his eyes. “Come on, baby. You’re as easy to read as a book. And you know we keep track.” 

You consider making a teasing remark in return-about them keeping a calendar or something in their phones about the dates of your period-but instead, you decide to simply utter a soft “thank you” as you situate the heating pad, and snuggle down beneath the blankets next to Jimin. 

He slides his arm beneath your body and pulls you against him, and his body heat is instantly making your eyes droop slightly and a heavy feeling of comfort wash over your tired muscles as you allow your head to rest heavily on his chest, heartbeat steady beneath your ear. 

You glance at the TV and recognize the movie scene that is being played. 

You groan. “You guys know I hate this movie.” 

“Which is why we’re watching it.” Hobi teases, letting the hand that is resting on Jimin’s shoulder flick so that his long fingers tickle your hair and the top of your head. “It’s time for you to realize what good media is, beautiful.” 

“Whatever.” You grumble out, burying your face into Jimin’s side, your eyes already closing, as you breathe in the smell of him-sandalwood and vanilla and something soft that feels like home. “I’m not gonna watch it anyway.” 

You feel Jimin press a kiss to the top of your head, and Hobi rest his hand on the crown of your hair, and the affectionate gestures-just to let you know they’re there, that they’ll always be there-make you feel as if you’re home. 

You are home. 

Because you’re so lucky. Lucky to have them both in your life. Lucky to have two people who make you feel as if home is not a place, but a feeling. 

You are the luckiest. 

And you realize that every single day. 

But days like today-that are terrible and horrible and no good-yet still end here, curled up next to your two favorite people in the whole world, make you realize that the most.