#one a half more fics in this 'verse to go! ^.^

[canonicallyobserving911]

“I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

Season 7 FANON Speculation: Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic - Hiatus Reading: “I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Chapter 32 is now available on AO3.

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

“I’m still in love with you but... I needed to learn how to love myself too!”

Currently 32 chapters completed: 1.465M Words; Rated: Mature

One chapter will be posted at a time.

___________

Here's a romantically fluffy snippet from Chapter 32 of a conversation Buck and Eddie are having while they dance in the living room.

___________

Once Eddie hears the introduction, he asks, “What song is this?”

“It’s “Blue Skies” by Noah and The Whale and I think it’s perfect because babe… for the past month and a half, we’ve experienced a lot of dark skies but I believe we’re finally about to see some blue skies.”

He tilts his head to the side. “Amore mio, what do you mean?”

“Well… the chorus of this song talks about blue skies are coming and I think that’s where we’re headed.”

They move to the center of the room, wrap their arms around each other’s waist and slow dance. When the leader starts singing verse one, Buck sings with him, “This is a song for anyone with a broken heart. This is a song for anyone who can’t get out of bed. Oh, do anything to be happy.”

Eddie gasps, he bites his bottom lip and tries to blink away his tears because he remembers it was just a few short weeks ago that Buck could barely get out of bed. On January 2nd, his heart rate lowered and he became unconscious and unresponsive and he thought he was going to leave him forever. Then Friday night, his heart stopped again but this time it was because someone tried to take him away. On Monday, he could barely get out of bed again but today, they’re in each other’s arms and they’re dancing like they used to and he’s so happy he can hardly contain it.

When his tears start rolling down his cheeks, he realizes he’s unsuccessful at stopping them.

Like always, Buck’s right there and he notices. He unwraps one of his arms, lifts his hand and wipes them away. Then he places soft kisses underneath both of his eyes and whispers, “I’m still here babe and I’m not going anywhere. EVER! I promise and I’ll never break your heart!”

___________

This is an EPIC LOVE STORY!

Fic Summary: Months after Buck and Eddie were hit by the same lightning strike; they’re still struggling with the aftermath of it.  But before they make their love confessions, they’ll spend time getting to know themselves as individuals first. Eddie learns to enjoy the simple things in life as he participates in activities on his own and with new friends while Buck learns the rest of the 31-year-old deep dark family secret about his conception and birth. Their journey to forever is still a work in progress but once they finally admit they’re in love with each other, everything that follows their love confessions will be cataclysmic.

__________

Chapter Summaries

Chapter 1 - Eddie makes a new friend while Buck receives devastating news regarding the sperm donation he made for Connor and Kameron.

Chapter 2 - Buck does a lot of research to learn more about the abnormalities found in his red blood cells and Eddie starts a new therapy journey that’s all about him and not the traumas he’s experienced.

Chapter 3 - After more than a month, Buck and Eddie finally spend time together outside of work but it doesn’t end well and they part with a lot of uncertainty regarding their places in each other’s lives.

Chapter 4 - Eddie has a few realizations about his life which causes him to consider moving back to El Paso, TX while Buck continues to be reminded of his past which causes him to take an impromptu road trip across America.

Chapter 5 - Both Buck and Eddie have difficult conversations with their parents and Buck finally learns the truth behind the reason why his mother despised him while Eddie finally tells his mother about the way she tries to control him.

Chapter 6 - More than two weeks after Buck pushed Eddie away after suggesting they needed a break; Eddie decides to try again. Eddie’s there for Buck when he’s at his worst just like Buck was there for him when he was at his worst and he won’t let Buck give up.

Chapter 7 - After Buck’s mental breakdown, Eddie has his back the same way Buck had his when he had his own breakdown more than a year ago.  They share several vulnerable and emotionally intimate moments with one another and they begin to realize their small, sweet and caring gestures matter just as much if not more than any grand gesture ever could because these are the foundations of a long-lasting love relationship.

Chapter 8 - Buck, Eddie and Chris all have their own therapists and during their sessions, they reflect on their pasts while they’re in the present so they can prepare for their future together as a family.

Chapter 9 - Buck and Eddie are there for each other when Buck has to testify as a witness during the trial.  But by the end of it, they’ll both realize their individual and shared traumas are going to keep resurfacing until they talk about them, deal with the fact that they’re in love with one another and face the fact that they can’t live without each other.

Chapter 10 - As Buck and Eddie finally begin to confront their past traumas, they realize how much they need each other to fill in the gaps of their memories.  Additionally, the universe screams at them for what appears to be the one hundredth time so Buck can realize he doesn’t have to ‘find it’ because he already ‘made it’ and Eddie’s reminded tomorrow isn’t promised and he doesn’t have to die alone if he doesn’t want to.

Chapter 11 - A “virga” or dry thunderstorm is in the forecast but once the rain starts, the thunderstorm happening outside won’t be able to match the storm brewing inside between Buck and Eddie.  It’s the universe’s final scream and when the tumultuous winds begin to blow, they’ll have one last chance to hold onto everything they’ve built over the last six years or they’ll lose it all forever.

Chapter 12 - Buck and Eddie have always shared a deep physical attraction and an emotional intimacy that’s unmatched but now that they’re in a relationship, they’re learning how to navigate the romantic intimacy they’ve been waiting for six years to explore. The love they have for each other is a once in a lifetime, soulmate, love of their lives type of love that transcends space and time.

Chapter 13 - While navigating the newness of their romantic relationship, Buck and Eddie take advantage of every moment they spend together. As their individual lives, people from their pasts, time constraints and the possibility of losing each other again make attempts to interrupt and interfere with their journey to forever, they love, care for, support and hold onto each other even tighter to withstand it all.

Chapter 14 - Buck and Eddie can see the lights at the end of the tunnels regarding the results of Buck’s Cancer Screening along with everything else they’re dealing with. But are the lights they see exits to the tunnels or are they headlights on different runaway trains that are speeding towards them in an effort to interrupt their forever?

Chapter 15 - Buck and Eddie have known they were exactly who the other one wanted in a partner since they met six years ago when they agreed to have each other’s backs. They’re in a romantic relationship, they’re both preparing to ask the other one to spend forever with them and by the end of the seventh week into their relationship, together they will plan their most important and greatest adventure for their future.

Chapter 16 - As Buck and Eddie begin to prepare for their marriage ceremony that will take place in Rome, Italy in December 2023, they start planning their first international adventure as a romantic couple. Even though Chris is still the only person they’ve told about their relationship, several people who know them have already witnessed the love they share and as the days continue, others will witness it too.

Chapter 17 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to departing Los Angeles for their international adventure, a moment in time will remind them; life is fragile, tomorrow isn’t promised and every second of everyday should be cherished because everything can change in an instant. The result of that realization will cause them to hold onto each other even more.

Chapter 18 - As Buck, Eddie and Chris prepare for family gatherings before and during the Thanksgiving holiday, the “Santa Ana Winds” start to blow and all sorts of expected and unexpected familial drama ensues.

Chapter 19 - As Buck and Eddie get closer to their wedding day, the universe begins to align everything so that some of their parent and children's relationships are strengthened while others come to an abrupt end.

Chapter 20 - With only 14 days remaining until Buck, Eddie and Chris depart Los Angeles, CA traveling to Rome, Italy, for their first family adventure, an early morning conversation about “tying up loose ends” helps Buck and Eddie realize there are still several things left unfinished on their ‘To Do’ lists. The question is will there be enough time to complete all of them?

Chapter 21 - Buck, Eddie and Chris are finalizing their ‘To Do’ Lists, double checking their itineraries and packing their suitcases in preparation for their trip to Europe so they can board their flight that departs Los Angeles, CA on Friday, December 15, 2023 at 3:25PM.

Chapter 22 - While Buck, Eddie and Chris spend the first 8 days of their European family adventure in Italy, their primary reason for going will be fulfilled as well as several others they hadn’t considered or anticipated.

Chapter 23 - As the Diaz Family continues their Italian family adventure, they’ll say, “Ciao” or hello and goodbye to a lot of things almost immediately after they become an official and legal family.

Chapter 24 - After Buck, Eddie and Chris arrive in London, England on December 24th; the Diazes immediately start preparing to spend their first family Christmas together. During their stay, each of them will hear a few choice words that will be the life raft to get them home to complete their searches to be seen and to be found.

Chapter 25 - After spending more than two weeks in Europe, Eddie, Buck and Chris are back in Los Angeles and they’re getting ready to attend Maddie and Chimney’s New Year’s Eve party. During the event, they have plans to make two surprise announcements but the question is, who’s really going to be surprised, the Diaz family or their found family at the 118?

Chapter 26 - Buck and Eddie are once again faced with their greatest fear of losing each other but this time it could be permanent and if it is, then they won’t be able to spend the rest of their lives together.

Chapter 27 - After Buck resumes therapy, he’ll continue to face the fact that he “DIED” in March 2023 and during those sessions, he’ll learn about the 7 stages of grief. As he continues his healing journey, Eddie will be right by his side just like he promised and the Diaz family will start to deal with their three minutes and seventeen seconds loss as a family.

Chapter 28 - Two years ago, Eddie was asked, “What are you afraid of?”; twice, once by Frank and once by Buck but he only answered one of them without deflecting. Since that time, he’s been to therapy and him and Buck got married but the question resurfaces when Frank asks Buck the same question and Buck asks it of Eddie for the second time. However, when Buck asks, his reasoning will be about something else entirely.

Chapter 29 - After Buck and Eddie have an emotionally intimate conversation regarding their dreams, they make several decisions that will affect their future. When everything falls into place, they’ll realize one of those decisions will result in them no longer being work partners.

Chapter 30 - In 2018, Buck and Eddie met at the 118 and after some initial apprehensions on Buck’s part, they became work partners and they agreed to have each other’s backs. It’s been more than 6 ½ years, a lot’s happened, they got married in December 2023 and they have the family they both chose. With Eddie leaving the 118 in 3 months and Buck getting closer to moving past his grief, what will him losing his work partner mean for him?

Chapter 31 - As Buck’s life hangs in the balance from what’s suspected to be another bradycardia event, Eddie’s by his bedside, their son is being cared for by relatives and their found family is in the waiting room. During this time, many questions will surface that could possibly lead to the truth but will everything be revealed before it’s too late?

Chapter 32 - On January 2, 2024, the figurative skies over the Diaz family became gray and filled with storm clouds. Buck’s recent trauma, Chris’ school project and Eddie’s paramedic studies combined with the attack on Buck’s life, all those things contributed to the grief they’ve been experiencing. However, as the middle of February approaches, will the dark clouds dissipate so blue skies can return?

Chapter 33 - Will be posted soon.

__________

Read chapters 1-32; they're available on AO3.

Continue reading on AO3

[mrs-luigi-vargas]

Lost and Found

Chapter 1 (of 2): Wherein Mario doesn't know where his brother is

Rating: General Audiences Characters: Mario, Peach, Luigi, Bowser Relationships: Mario & Peach, Mario & Luigi Tags: Minor Bowser/Luigi, Hurt/Comfort, Humor, Nonverbal Mario

Summary: Sunny skies and friends by his side...in Mario’s opinion, it was all the perfect setup for a perfect vacation! ...Too bad his brother up and disappeared partway through it. Word Count: 2,608 words A/N: This fic's Mario's POV of An Egg in a Trying Time! So it would be helpful to read that one first, but i can't tell you what to do so do whatever!

[AO3 Link]

~~~

Mario woke up an hour or so after sunrise.

He shuffled about his and Luigi’s hotel room as quietly as he could as he got ready for the day. Luigi was usually a pretty heavy sleeper, but nonetheless Mario had accidentally woken him up yesterday morning and he still felt a bit bad about it. And Luigi had stayed up late last night, so he really needed the extra sleep this morning.

Tiptoeing out of the room, Mario closed the door with a near-inaudible click and headed out of the hotel down to the nearest beach. He took off his shoes and dug his toes into the sand, watching the sun climb higher and higher into the sky with the seagulls’ cries and the salty breeze and the sound of the ocean waves keeping him company.

A tap on his shoulder brought him out of his tranquil state; it was Peach, arms laden with beach-going supplies and smiling at him. As Mario hurried to relieve her of her bag she passed him another, smaller paper bag in which Mario could smell something from the nearby bakery. He smiled thankfully at her. His smile turned sheepish when she reached into her bag he was holding and took out a bottle of sunscreen to wave in his face with a raised eyebrow.

The two sunscreen-laden friends ate breakfast and watched the sunlight reflect on the ocean’s surface until more people trickled onto the beach, at which point they went to claim a good spot to spend the rest of the morning. Neither of them were at that spot now, with Peach kicking a ball around farther down the beach with some friends and Mario sitting on the edge of a dock a ways away from her, feet kicking absently in the chilled water and humming quietly to himself while watching them.

He could join them. In fact, he was planning to, soon. But the water felt nice, and — he cast a glance at the sky, shielding his eyes with a hand — Luigi was probably due to wake up soon, if he hadn't already. Peach had sent him a text earlier telling him they were at the beach, and Mario kind of wanted to sit in a highly-visible-from-the-sidewalk place to catch him as he arrived.

Mario remained there until a little after noon, when he couldn't quite ignore how hungry he was anymore. There was a hot dog stand within sight, and Mario weighed his desire to fill his empty stomach against his desire to not miss Luigi’s arrival. The hunger won. Surely Luigi would understand.

But as he ventured to the stand, something felt...off. Beyond how hungry he was. Mario stood halfway between the ocean and his pending lunch, trying to parse the uniquely foreboding feeling he was suddenly flooded with. It felt like...he frowned. He changed course entirely, to the road that would take him back into town. It felt like where he should be going right now.

The universe had other plans, however, as at the exact moment Mario took one step off the sand onto the concrete the ground shook with the rumblings of an explosion from somewhere behind him. Mario spun to find the source and locked eyes with Peach as she stood amidst beachgoers who were beginning to react in alarm. “Over there!” she called to him, pointing further up the beach and darting in that direction. Mario scrambled to follow her. By the time he and Peach pushed through the crowd to truly behold the chaos at the root of it all, Mario’s earlier foreboding feeling had faded to nothing. By the time they finished dealing with the consequences of said chaos, Mario had forgotten about the feeling entirely.

---

At dinnertime, Peach returned from the overflowing buffet table to find Mario fiddling with his phone, looking downcast. He'd been slowly deflating all day, for all he tried to hide it. Case in point, he tried to smile at her as she approached, despite hardly touching his food since they’d arrived in the restaurant.

It took a bit of needling, but Peach finally got an answer as to what was bothering Mario in the form of him handing her his phone. It was open to its messaging app, to Mario and Luigi’s messages specifically, where there was nothing sent all day aside from the periodic picture from Mario.

“That’s odd...” Peach frowned and checked her own phone. “He hasn't responded to any of my messages either.” She messaged him again right then and there; with each minute of no response Mario drummed his fingers on the table a little bit faster, a little bit harder. It wasn't necessarily bad, he told himself, that Luigi wasn't using his phone. He was hardly beholden to checking in with his brother every once in a while.

But...the entire day?

Mario shook his head. He didn't want to jump to any conclusions just yet. No, Luigi was probably out having fun somewhere else. So much fun that he didn't have time to text his brother. Or the Princess. Which was fine! Totally fine. Mario wasn't worried about it. Not one bit.

Peach reached across the table to put her hands on Mario’s, finally stilling it. “We’ll go look for him after dinner,” she said, and Mario slumped in both embarrassment and relief.

So after finishing dinner, Mario and Peach ventured around the central hub of the island. They searched the beach and didn't find Luigi. They ran into Yoshi at about the same time Mario remembered Luigi had been walking the nature trails recently, and Yoshi volunteered itself and its friends to scour them for any sign of him. They asked the Toads working the amusement park gates, and they told them they haven't seen a “Loogey” around anywhere. They searched the beach again and didn't find him. The sun finished setting, and the two of them took the hotel stairs down to the casino, where the owner told them he didn't see “that green-hatted upstart” that’d been on track to bankrupt the entire establishment last night. Peach dragged Mario out by the arm before he could do anything about how his brother was just spoken about. Peach made a mental note to lodge a complaint to someone higher up before she went to bed.

Trekking disappointedly back up the stairs, they almost collided with Rosalina. “We’re looking for Luigi,” Peach told her when she asked them what had them so down. “We haven't seen him at all, today. Have you?”

Rosalina tilted her head in thought. “I did see him earlier today,” she said, to Mario and Peach’s delight. “Yes, in the part of town with all the restaurants, having lunch in the one with the large windows. He had an object underneath his shirt. But I don't know where he went afterwards.”

Outdated info, but they at least had a lead now. Mario practically bounced in place, eager to chase it. Noticing this, Peach hurried to say a farewell to Rosalina before he ran off. “And thank you so much!” she added.

Rosalina barely had time to wave after them before they were gone, up the stairs and out of the hotel, beelining towards the restaurant in question. A darkened interior and a locked door greeted Mario as he ran up first, despite the buildings on either side bustling with activity. When Peach approached, her attention was caught by the paper sign taped to the inside of one of the windows; though it was a bit hard to read, scrawled hastily as it was, she could at least tell it was an apology that the restaurant was closed, and a promise to be open at the usual hour tomorrow. Mario wilted as she read it aloud.

“Well,” Peach sighed. “At least we tried...Hopefully Luigi will come back to the hotel tonight so we won't have to come back here tomorrow and ask about him?”

Hopefully. The frown didn't leave Mario’s face as they trudged back to the hotel. While Peach retired to her room, Mario parked himself on one of the plush chairs in the hotel lobby, with a full view of the entrance doors. He sat there for an hour or two, fiddling with his phone and his hat and the hem of his shirt, until the receptionist began to side-eye him. Mario decided to wait for Luigi in his hotel room instead, half-hoping he'd snuck by him somehow and was already waiting for him there.

Mario opened the door to his and Luigi’s hotel room. It was empty, and the silence was deafening as Mario quietly clicked the door shut. Mechanically, he got ready for bed; but instead of getting under the covers, he sat with his back to his headboard and waited and waited and waited. His usual bedtime came and went, and every time he snapped himself back awake from dozing off he sent yet another text message to Luigi that had no answer.

A knock sounded at the door. The thought didn't occur to Mario that if it was Luigi then he would have heard the beep of a keycard instead — he was the one out of the two of them who never forgot it — until he threw the door open and was face to face with Peach.

“Luigi hasn't shown up yet, huh?” Peach asked, seeing Mario’s face fall.

Mario shook his head, feeling silly.

“In that case” — Peach pushed her way into the room, wearing one of the hotel-provided bathrobes — “you don't mind if I wait with you, do you?”

Even if she hadn't already entered the room, Mario would have gladly invited her in. She perched herself on the other bed and turned on the TV as Mario sat back on his. Though she spent a non-zero amount of time tuning the TV to a channel serviceable for late-night background noise, she wasn't really watching it, too busy shooting Mario worried glances he didn't catch because he was too focused on watching the door. In the end, despite Mario’s best efforts, he couldn't ignore how tired he was any longer, and as time continued to pass his eyes unwittingly slid shut.

---

When Mario next opened his eyes, it was dark. He turned his head to the side and there was a shape resting on Luigi’s bed. He woke up the rest of the way with a jolt. Was that...?

...No, it wasn't. The shape was too still, too quiet.

Mario’s heart sank as he got out of bed. That shape was actually Peach, who had evidently elected to not return to her room for the night. A seemingly impromptu decision, considering she wasn't under the covers. Mario pulled the comforter off his own bed and carefully draped it over her.

Mario drifted to the window, peering through it up at the moon high in the sky. Luigi was still nowhere to be found. This was late, even for him. And in this continued absence Mario was forced to truly entertain the possibility that maybe there really was something wrong. Was Luigi in trouble? Unable to contact him somehow, even if he wanted to? The thought of it had Mario pacing, pinpricks of anxiety buzzing underneath his skin. He needed to do something about this.

Mario shuffled about the room as quietly as he could, as if he was getting ready for the day. He and Peach had already checked all the likely places Luigi could be, but it wouldn't hurt for Mario to check again. Just to make sure. Even if it was the middle of the night. He reached for the door and —

“Mario?”

Mario froze.

Peach raised her head, blinking sleep out of her eyes. She squinted at the scene before her. “...where’re you going?”

...out?

Peach frowned. She kept frowning until Mario’s hand guiltily inched away from the doorknob, to which she sighed, getting out of bed. Mario’s comforter sat on her shoulders, and as she rubbed at her eyes and yawned Mario felt worse for waking her while trying to sneak out than for the sneaking out itself. He couldn't muster up an explanation for doing so as she waited for one, either — or at least, he couldn't come up with one that wouldn't put all his anxieties on full display.

Still, Peach’s face softened in sympathy, because why else would Mario be awake? “I know you’re worried,” she said, putting her hands on Mario’s shoulders. But it’s late, she didn't say, though it was clear in the undercurrent of her words.

Mario shrank in on himself, chewing the inside of his cheek. There were so many things that could have happened to Luigi — bad things — that Mario had no way of knowing about. He could have gotten lost, he could have gotten hurt somewhere...heck, what if Bowser had done something?

“If he did, we can hardly confront him about it this late at night,“ was Peach’s response to that last part, and Mario was forced to admit she had a point. Especially when they hardly had any information to work with regarding whether Bowser was even involved in the first place. “Luigi will be fine, regardless of what happened,” Peach continued, voice filled with confidence. “He’s capable in his own right, and he’ll keep the egg safe, too!”

Mario knew that already. But nonetheless it was so, so difficult to shake off all the worst-case scenarios. If Luigi was upset somewhere and Mario wasn't there to help him...but Peach was right, Luigi could take care of himself. But what if this was the one time...no, even if it was, Luigi could definitely handle it. Although, he could've...no, he’ll be...well, maybe...

Around and around Mario’s brain spun, caught in its fretful loop. Until something suddenly bumped against his forehead and surprised it into stopping. He stared cross-eyed at the hesitant look on Peach’s face.

“Um. I know you and Luigi do this to calm each other down.” She smiled unsurely. “Is...it helping?”

It — Mario blinked. Well, he thought to himself. The faint smell of her shampoo wafted about them, floral where he might have expected fruit when he closed his eyes. There was the lack of mustache hair, and the absence of a nose pushing into his. Also the angle was wrong because she was over a half-a-head taller than Luigi was. And she’d come in too fast to begin with, as the smart of the red mark that surely existed on his forehead from the impact could attest to.

...But.

Curtained by blonde hair and bracketed by the comforter, Mario breathed in, then out, near-sagging against her. It — did help, in its own way. Enough that Mario’s mind quieted, enough that he started to doze off.

As he slumped further, Peach huffed, straightening and shaking him a little bit. “Back to bed with you, mister,” she declared, to which Mario blinked owlishly.

With a bit of nudging, Mario dutifully returned to his bed; Peach was close behind, and she lay down next to him when he settled. “So you don't try leaving again,” she said by way of explanation, and Mario was just barely too tired to be sheepish about it.

Of the two of them, it was Peach who fell back asleep first. Mario watched her face go slack, watched her burrow into her pillow. Too still, too quiet. But not quite as discomfiting anymore. So he watched her, and it was only as the sun started to dream of rising did he, too, finally drift off into dreams of his own.

[spencerreidenjoyer]

guess | spencer reid x reader

wc: 2.3k, rating: explicit/18+

tags/warnings: slight exhibitionism/voyeurism, alcohol consumption (reader is not drunk during sex), lingerie, munch!spencer, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

a/n: heavily inspired by guess by charli xcx ft. billie eilish, specifically billie's verse. yes the song dropped yesterday. yes i listened to the song once and decided to write a fic about it. i'm insane about s7/8 reid rn so :) (also posted on ao3!)

You swear you don’t mean to show off, but the miniskirt you’re in doesn’t help your case in the slightest.

Spencer had told you to join him at the bar for drinks with his coworkers, the bar just a couple blocks down from the club you were at with your friends. Your boyfriend had been away for most of this week and you really wanted to see him, so you don’t think twice about popping by to see Spencer. Besides, you hadn’t seen Penelope, JJ and Emily in a while either, and those girls treat you too kindly.

You realise how skimpily dressed you are when you walk into the bar, though, when you approach the very properly-dressed group of FBI agents at a booth in the corner. Your top is cropped and low-cut, revealing your cleavage, and you were wearing a little black miniskirt, the hem of which barely skirted the tops of your thighs.

Spencer has never commented on your fashion choices, often being the very satisfied recipient of your sometimes revealing outfits. But as you greet the BAU, his eyes are dark and hungry as they roam your figure. You smile at him with a whispered “Hi, baby,” before you kiss him chastely. The look on Spencer’s face is unreadable, other than the fact that you know he appreciates the view.

His gaze darts up at Derek from across the booth when he whistles at you.

“Looking good, mama.” Derek waggles his eyebrows at you, earning him a smack to the chest from Penelope and a hearty chuckle from Emily.

You lean over to hug JJ, Penelope and Emily in that order on the other side of the table, and you feel Spencer’s hand quickly snake across your waist, pulling you back to sit down. You glance over at him briefly, but he only keeps his gaze straight ahead.

“You are one lucky guy, Reid,” Emily laughs, and you feel Spencer’s arm curl around you tighter, pulling you in closer.

The rest of the night is pretty fun, cracking jokes and talking with Spencer’s team, but with the alcohol in your system from earlier, it only takes a few more drinks for you to get drunk. You’re extra giggly, half-sitting in Spencer’s lap, his hand not leaving your side. You feel the rumble in his chest when he speaks, saying, “I think we’re going to head home first. This one here seems a little drunk already.”

“I’m not drunk,” you lilt, rolling your eyes. You lay your head on Spencer’s shoulder, blinking hard before you meet Penelope’s gaze. You hear Emily defending you about how you aren’t drunk, but Penelope smiles at you and says, “I think boy genius is right.”

You frown deeply, almost comically so. “Penny! You’re supposed to back me up here!”

Penelope laughs, always so kind to you. “Come on, honey. Let Reid take you home.”

You huff, crossing your arms like a petulant child. You don’t notice the way Spencer’s gaze darts down to your chest shamelessly. Derek whistles, and you assume Spencer must glare at him because Derek is raising his hands in surrender, telling Spencer he doesn’t mean anything. What were they even talking about? You don’t know, but Spencer is murmuring in your ear about getting a taxi home, and after you say goodbye to all of his friends, you’re letting him guide you out of the bar and into the cool night.

You shiver, the very little fabric you have on not doing you any favours when the temperature drops. Spencer is quick to shrug off his jacket and help you put it on. His jacket is long enough on you, considering Spencer’s height, to cover your skirt.

“I swear alcohol’s supposed to warm you up,” you grumble, holding your arms close to your chest as you try to stay warm. “I’m fucking freezing.”

“You feel warmer for a bit because the alcohol is a vasodilator – it causes the blood vessels under your skin to dilate, increasing blood flow, which makes you feel warmer. If you drink more, the higher levels of alcohol actually work to shrink your blood vessels instead and make you feel cold. Do you have a headache?”

You shake your head, but take the chance to snuggle up to Spencer now. “You feel nice and warm.”

“Good,” Spencer says, holding you close. In no time, he flags down a taxi, and you two pile in and drive towards his apartment.

Spencer’s hand is drawing circles into the side of your thigh, mindless, but the touch is incredibly distracting. You ask him softly, “You’ve been touching me all night, Spence. Something on your mind?”

“You,” he whispers back. “Can’t stop thinking about your underwear.”

You squeak at his brazenness, smacking his chest. “You– Spencer!”

“I got a good look when you were practically bent over the table just now,” Spencer continues, his voice a low rumble in his throat. “Didn’t even give me a chance to guess.”

You gape at him like a fish, but Spencer smiles and murmurs in your ear, “You know how much I love when you wear that lacy black pair.”

You bite down on your lip, trying not to moan like a whore in the back of this taxi. You just look at him, silently wishing he’d do something. Spencer presses a kiss to your jaw, and you feel your cheeks heat.

Thankfully, the driver is quick to announce that you’re at your destination, and you and Spencer stumble out of the cab quicker than you’d like to admit. Spencer doesn’t even wait for his change before he slams the car door shut.

Spencer crowds you against the back of the elevator, an old, rickety thing with no camera, so you feel less bad when Spencer slips his hand under your skirt and past your panties, his finger sliding between your wet folds. “Spencer!”

“You’re so wet for me already,” Spencer groans, kissing down your neck desperately. His fingers are so tantalising, rubbing up against your clit, your hole. “You’re so sexy.”

“Spencer,” you whine. “Hurry up and fuck me.”

The elevator doors creak open on Spencer’s floor. “Let’s go, then.”

Spencer barely locks the door behind you before he’s kissing you, eager and sloppy and desperate. It’s so hot, his large hands on your waist pulling you closer to him, and you feel the growing problem in the front of his pants.

“Spencer,” you moan. You feel his hands push up your skirt, feel him wedge his leg between your thighs. You must be soaked through your underwear by now, and you shamelessly rut your hips forward to grind against his leg.

“You know I love your fashion sense, my love, but this is slutty even for you.” Spencer’s voice is dark when he says it, and you whimper. “You’re dressed like you want somebody else’s attention.”

Your eyes widen and you look up at him. “No!”

“Derek was eyeing you like a piece of meat earlier. Emily, too.” Spencer frowns.

“I only want you, baby,” you insist, holding onto Spencer’s arms. “Only want you to notice me.”

“I am the only one who knows the colour of your underwear,” Spencer hums, his fingers skirting the waistband of your panties. “And fuck, you look good in them.”

“Please, Spence,” you whine, your plea lilting off into a gasp as Spencer lifts you, getting you to wrap his legs around him. You’d seen how he looked when he was younger, so scrawny he looked like he’d get swept away if the wind blew too hard, but now, he’s got more meat on his bones. His body is a pleasure to look at, let alone feel under your hands, which you’re happy to do now.

You touch the firm lines of his body through his shirt, as Spencer carries you to his bedroom. You mumble, hands frisky, “You’re so hot.”

“Says you,” Spencer smiles. “I’m going to make you feel so good, baby.”

You grin as he lays you on his bed, gasping when he slides his palm over your wet cunt through your underwear. His thumb flicks over your clit through the lace, the material dulling the electrifying sensation. you whine, “Spencer, please.”

Spencer tsks, looking down at you. “Let me take my time with you, darling. You’ve been teasing me all evening.”

He presses his thumb against your clit a little harder, making you moan loudly. While he tends to tower over you in bed, you also deeply appreciate the view of him getting on his knees so he can make a home between your thighs. His hair is wild, unruly, and you run your hand through it, admiring it. Keeping your gaze, Spencer leans down to kiss your pussy.

You feel his warm breath on you, the scratch of his stubble on your skin, pinned down simply by his gaze as his tongue darts out to lick you over your underwear. You whimper, as Spencer wraps his arms around each of your thighs, using you as an anchor as he presses his face between your legs.

You sob, because what Spencer’s giving you just isn’t enough, not when you need to feel his tongue on your cunt. He thumbs at your hole through the fabric, dipping into your wetness in a cruel approximation of the pleasure he usually gives you.

“Fuck me,” you groan. “Take my panties off already.”

“Not yet,” Spencer hums. Instead, he pushes your panties to the side, lets his fingers slide over your cunt. You gasp at the sensation, his rough, calloused fingers sliding over your wetness, and then you feel the warmth of his tongue.

The sounds his mouth makes as he eats you out are filthy, obscene. His tongue flicks over your cunt with a practised precision, familiar with what makes you tick, the wet, slick sounds too overwhelming. Your toes are curling with how good Spencer makes you feel – legs trembling, breathing heavy. You can’t stop the whimpers that leave your lips, almost helpless in the way you moan for him.

“Please,” your voice is shaky as you cry out for Spencer. “I need you so bad, baby."

Spencer hums against your cunt, the vibrations sending shocks up your spine in your pleasure. “Okay, my darling.”

Finally, finally, he’s sitting up and pulling your panties down, your little skirt still pushed up to expose your cunt. You look up at him, silently wondering why he hasn’t taken it off. He plays with the soft fabric in his hands almost absentmindedly and says, “I think we should keep it on.”

You blink up at him, not coherent enough to say anything about it. Instead, you watch him take his shirt off – you whistle at the sight, while he just rolls his eyes. He unbuckles his belt and push his pants down, his cock bobbing up, hard and red and leaky. You bite your lip, thinking about how he’ll feel inside of you.

“Kiss me,” you whine, and Spencer smiles at you. He tastes of you when his lips press against yours, and he’s quick to deepen it, his tongue in your mouth, like he's close to devouring you whole.

While he kisses you hungrily, you feel his hand between your legs, moving to line himself up with your entrance. You moan as the blunt head of his cock presses up against your hole, the sensation you’ve been craving all evening. Cruelly, he rubs up against you just like that, sliding between your folds but not giving you the satisfaction you need. You’re close to biting his head off.

“Spencer–” you start, but Spencer decides to press his cock into you right at that moment, and you sob with the way his thick length splits you open. Every time he fucks you, you feel like he was made for you, filling you up in all the right ways, feeling so perfect on top of you, inside of you.

You meet his lips and kiss him lazily as he starts to thrust into you, at the perfect pace, just deep enough to hit all the right spots. It’s too good, Spencer knowing you and your pleasure like the back of his hand.

“Fuck,” Spencer groans against your mouth, finally showing some sign of his unravelling. “You’re so tight, darling.”

You gasp, groaning his name, legs wrapped around his waist to pull him closer, feeling like you could fuse into one person with how much you’re clinging onto him. You press your forehead to his shoulder, moans punched out of you with every one of Spencer’s thrusts.

“Feels– Feels so good, Spence, love you,” you cry.

“I love you too,” Spencer groans, voice low and rumbly in his chest. “You’re so perfect, my love.”

You sob as your orgasm hits you, crashing into you like a tidal wave. You shake as you come, feeling so positively overwhelmed with the way Spencer fucks you, the way he holds you, the way he kisses you. You can’t feel your legs as you come down from your high, head spinning with all the pleasure. “Spence…”

“I’m– Fuck–” Spencer’s tripping over his own words as he comes right alongside you, your clenched pussy sending him over the edge too. He blows his load deep inside you, sticky and hot and so satisfying. You can feel how hard he’s breathing as your mind clears, his arms trembling as he holds himself up so he doesn’t end up collapsing onto you.

“You’re perfect,” you hum in Spencer’s ear, soft and gentle as you kiss the side of his head. You pull him in close, letting him rest his weight onto you, and your hand goes to stroke his hair softly. “So good. I love you.”

“Thank you. I love you more,” Spencer groans, his voice a little raspy already. “I’m sorry if I was too possessive over you in front of my friends tonight."

“All is forgiven, especially since you were sexy as fuck,” you grin up at him. “You’re always sexy.”

“Says the girl in a miniskirt and black lace panties.” Spencer smiles.

“All the more I know what I’m talking about, then,” you giggle, before kissing him slow.

[wandaslittlebird]

Pendulum

Wanda x Reader, WandaNat x Reader

After a session with Wanda the prior evening, you wake up alone in your bed and find you’re a bit more reliant on her than you’d like to be.

CW: Sub drop, (kinda) panic attack, mood swings, guilt, Mommy Kink, mentions of spanking, established WandaNat (no cheating), pills (Tylenol and Xanax), Wanda generally being a protective and worried mama

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: I may know hardly anything about dom drop, but I’m ✨well versed✨ in sub drop. I honestly think this one is adorable and I hope you all enjoy.

A/N: I wasn’t doing this consciously, but reading this back I realize I kinda did a reverse YAIL, so, if you haven’t already, go check out that series by @wandasaura

Fic based on this request

You woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air before your head even left the pillow. It was hard to find anything to ground you in your dark bedroom, but with the help of your stuffed bear, Francis, and some breathing exercises you’d been working on in therapy, you were able to calm down at least enough to breathe. Still, you found yourself dizzy, nauseous, in pain, and, perhaps most excruciatingly, alone.

Wanda. Where was Wanda? Where was your mommy? You needed mommy.

“Mommy?” You cried quietly into the empty room. But she wasn’t there. Of course she wasn’t there. She was at home, tucked peacefully into bed with Natasha, her wife. And you were here, in your cold, empty apartment, all alone.

You turned to look at the clock on your bedside table. 1:30 am. It was far too late to call her. She had to get up for work in a couple hours. You had to get up for class in a couple hours.

But god, you needed her. You needed just to hear her voice. Everything felt so empty without her here. Your brain felt like it was underwater. You couldn’t think. It felt like your mind was strapped to a pendulum, swinging back and forth between extremes. It’s like half of your mind was begging for Wanda while the other half scolded you for your over-reliance. You wanted her, but you didn’t want to want her. It was hyper-dependence clashing with hyper-independence in an internal battle that left you dazed and confused.

Just call her, you thought. She told you to call her if this ever happened.

You’d been her submissive for months, and, though you’d never actually experienced sub drop with her, the two of you had discussed it extensively. “You can call me at any time,” she’d said. “Even if it's been days. I’m here for you in any way you need me.”

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, pulling up her contact and hovering over the call button. But before you could press it, the pendulum swung back. You hurled the phone into your beanbag on the other side of the room.

What are you thinking? You can’t call her. She’s not your fucking girlfriend. You’re so reliant on her and she doesn’t even care about you. Leave her alone. This is your mess. Handle it.

You sighed, dragging your aching body off of your mattress. Everything hurt. The wounds she’d so loving inflicted the night before ached even more than they had when they were fresh. You wanted, needed, to feel her soft hands massaging soothing balm into your skin like they had only hours prior. But no.

Wanda. Wasn’t. Here.

It was just you and you alone. You needed to take care of this. You needed to pull yourself together and handle this on your own. You felt like you might be sick. The swinging of this pendulum was nauseating. You dragged yourself to the bathroom, pulling two Tylenol and a Xanax from the medicine cabinet. You sat on the toilet, tucking your head between your knees.

You didn’t understand what was happening. Or rather, you didn’t understand why it was happening. Wanda had done everything perfectly, just like she always did. She’d insisted you stay with her until you were out of subspace and your mind was clear again. She’d given you all the cuddles and love and reassurance you could possibly want. She’d even rubbed that soothing lotion on your sore ass despite the fit you’d pitched about it. This shouldn’t be happening. She’d done everything she was supposed to do. You were the problem.

You moved from the bathroom to your living room, pacing anxious circles until you worried the neighbors would complain. Then you decided on a walk.

A little walk to clear your head. That should help. No need to bother Wanda. You could take care of this by yourself.

—————

A little over two blocks proved you could not, in fact, take care of this by yourself. You found yourself collapsed on a bench outside your favorite coffee shop, her contact pulled up on your phone, sobbing as your thumb hovered over the call button.

You clicked it, anxiously awaiting an answer through the dial tone. Every second without an answer was a battle not to hit the red button, and smash your phone on the ground so you wouldn’t be tempted to try this again.

“Hello?” You heard, not Wanda, but Natasha’s sleep addled voice.

You silently cursed, debating hanging up the phone and forgetting the whole endeavor. You had very limited experience in dealing with Natasha. Where Wanda was warm and inviting, Natasha was cold and intimidating. Wanda had told you once that Natasha had a soft spot for you, but you remained unconvinced any of Natasha’s spots were “soft”.

Wanda had explained to you that Natasha’s had submissives of her own, but she tended to prefer brats, submissives who needed a harsher hand. “It’s not that she doesn’t like you,” Wanda had explained, “she’s just not used to sweet little girls like you.”

Still, the woman terrified you. And she definitely was NOT the one you wanted to be speaking to right now. But you took a deep breath, and answered her. “H-hello, Miss Natasha. C-can I speak to Wanda?” You stammered. You couldn’t keep the tears and desperation out of your voice when you added a “…please.”

“Y-yeah, sure honey. Just a second let me get her up,” she responded tiredly.

Your heart shattered at the thought of Natasha rousing a peaceful Wanda from her sleep just because you couldn’t get yourself together. But all such thoughts faded when you heard her voice through the phone. “Angel? Is that you? Is everything okay? Are you hurt? What’s going on?”

“Mommy…” you said tearfully. “I’m okay. I promise I’m okay, I just… I don’t know what’s happening. I mean I’m dropping, I know, but… I don’t know. I just needed so badly to hear you and talk to you. I’m sorry for waking you up. I’m so sorry. I know you said….” You were rambling breathlessly, but Wanda soon cut you off.

“Breathe for me, little love,” she instructed softly. “Three deep breaths. In and out. Can you do that for me, angel?”

You nodded despite knowing she couldn’t see you over the phone. You took three audible breaths, calming yourself down.

“Good girl,” she praised. “Now, can you tell me what’s happening?”

“I… I… Sub drop, I think,” you explained. “But like, really bad.”

“Aww,” she cooed. “I’m so sorry, my little love. Can you explain to me what you're feeling? Are you in pain? Do you need company?”

“I just… I don’t know why this is happening to me,” you cried. “Everything hurts so bad. My head feels like it’s spinning. And… And my body is so sore. It’s never happened like this with you before. You did everything so perfectly. I just don’t understand why I’m being like this.”

“Sub drop can happen no matter what, honey. And I’m so sorry it’s happening to you, sweetheart. Do you need to come back over?” She asked.

You pondered her question, the pendulum inside of you swinging violently. You felt like you were being torn in half between admitting you needed her help, and feeling defeated and weak that you couldn’t handle it on your own. But eventually you remembered it didn’t really matter. You made your choice when you took the Xanax. You weren’t going anywhere now. “I-I took some medicine. I can’t drive. I’m sorry,” you admitted.

“What medicine?” She asked, panicked. “Did you take too much? Are you okay?”

“It was just a Xanax. Just one. Just like I take for school sometimes,” you reassured.

You heard her breathe a sigh of relief on the other end of the line. “Okay, sweetheart. I’m sorry I panicked. You know I just worry sometimes. I tell you what, Nat and I are going to get you an Uber, and then you can spend the rest of the night here, okay?”

“Wanda, you don’t have to-“ You didn’t use her real name very often given the exclusively sexual nature of your relationship, but you needed her to know she wasn’t responsible for being your dominant right now. She was Wanda, and you were you: two grown adults. She didn’t have any obligation to take care of you right now, in the middle of the night on a Wednesday.

“But I want to, darling,” she interrupted. “Is that okay?”

“Y-yeah, but I’m not at the house right now.”

You heard her breath catch. “Where are you, honey? You promise me you’re safe?”

“I-I’m just at the coffee shop,” you explained. “I wanted to take a walk, b-but I didn’t make it very far.”

Wanda sighed. She’d have to have a little talk with you about walking all by yourself in the middle of the night. But not right now. Right now she just needed you in her arms as quickly as she could have you. “Alright, love. You’ve got a car on its way. Just stay on the phone with me until it gets there, okay?”

“O-okay.”

—————

The car was there within five minutes of Wanda’s order. Most of that time was just filled with tears and mumbled apologies on your end, and reassurance and encouragement on hers.

She waited anxiously by the front door for you to arrive, peeking out of the blinds with every set of headlights that passed by. She clutched her robe tight against her chest. If you were there, you would’ve teased her about her anxious habit. You always said she was “practically clutching her pearls.”

When you finally pulled into the driveway, she was standing in the front door frame before you could even get out of the car.

“Mommy!” You ran up to her, nearly tripping on the front porch steps on your way in. You were even more hysterical now that you were seeing her in person. Something about the sight of her made you fall apart. You felt safe now. You were going to fall, and she was going to catch you, and everything was going to be okay.

“Careful, love,” she chided, taking you into her arms. “Mommy’s got you. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m gonna take care of you and I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you.”

It sounded more like she was reassuring herself than anything, but her words still washed over you like a wave of relief. “I missed you, mommy.”

“I know you did, angel,” she said, kissing you on the temple. “Mommy missed you, too.”

She wrapped her arms just under your ass, still sore and super sensitive from your activities earlier that night. She picked you up, wrapping your legs around your waist. You squeaked in a mixture of surprise and pain.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know you’re sore. I’ll be gentle,” she cooed. “Let’s get you to bed. Tasha will be waiting for us.”

You just cried, burying your face into Wanda’s neck as she carried you up the stairs. You couldn’t talk anymore. You were so completely exhausted, mentally and physically. But it was okay. You had your mommy and everything was going to be okay. The bedroom door was already open, and, as Wanda had expected, Natasha was sat up against the headboard.

“Is that a little angel I see there?” You heard Natasha ask. Wanda sat you on her lap at the end of the bed, bending down to take off your shoes.

You peaked your eyes out from Wanda’s neck before perching your chin on her shoulder. “Hi Miss Natasha,” you sniffled. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“That’s alright, little angel,” she assured, sliding closer to you and Wanda on the bed. She looked so much kinder than usual, soft sleepy eyes smiling at you through your tears. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

You nodded, still teary eyed and snotty on Wanda’s lap while she unlaced your shoes.

Natasha cupped your cheek, wiping away stray tears. “It must’ve been so scary to start dropping without your mommy there, huh?” Her touch was unexpectedly gentle, as were her words. Maybe Wanda was right, maybe she really did have a soft spot for you.

You nodded, trying to speak but only managing to whimper a “mhm.” You blushed a little with embarrassment. Wanda must’ve told her all about your situation. You wondered momentarily if she thought your behavior was overblown or ridiculous, but if she did, her gentle face showed no indication.

“But now you’ve got your mommy and everything’s gonna be okay, right?”

You nodded again. “I-I hope you don’t mind if I steal your wife for a little bit for-for some extra snuggles.”

“Not at all little angel.” Natasha smiled softly. She could see your anxious embarrassment, and decided, despite her inexperience with soft subs, she’d make an attempt to soothe you. She knew she wasn't expected to, but she found herself desperate to make you feel better, even if it was only a little bit. “Your mommy could hardly stop bragging about you tonight, you know?”

“Re-really?” You asked. Natasha could see the tiniest little twinkle in your teary eyes.

“Really,” she confirmed. “She told me she was so proud of her sweet girl for calling her, because that must’ve been so scary for her, to call in the middle of the night. She knows you don’t like to wake people up, and asking for help when you need it is so so hard. And I said ‘wow, it sounds like you have the bravest little angel in the whole world. I think she deserves some extra special snuggles from mommy tonight, for being so brave.’”

“Y-you really think so?” you asked bashfully, hiding back in Wanda’s neck.

“I really do,” she confirmed. “And you know your mommy keeps her phone on silent in the nighttime. But she cares about you so much she has a special setting so it rings just for you.”

You smiled. Your heart fluttered, not only at the idea Wanda had her phone on for you, but also at the thought that Natasha must’ve known it was you before she answered. “I-I thought you might be mad at me,” you confessed. “Cause you and-and mommy were probably all snuggled up in bed and I came in and messed it all up!”

Natasha stroked your cheek as she shook her head. “No angel. Never. You could never mess up one of our snuggles by asking to be a part of it. We’re both so proud of you, for calling and getting help.”

“P-promise?” You asked.

Natasha held out her pinky, which you wrapped with your own. “Promise.” She confirmed.

Wanda finally got your shoes off and placed them on the floor next to the bed. “Okay little love,” she announced, easing your pajama pants down around your knees. “I’m gonna get some of the nice lotion again, okay?” She’d already put a little on earlier, but she figured it would probably do quite a bit to soothe your current pains, both physically and emotionally.

You wrapped yourself around her, refusing to let her move. You didn’t need silly lotion, you needed her. You whined at the prospect of having to let go.

Natasha giggled and sat down next to Wanda. “Do you want me to do your lotion while you hang onto mommy?”

You nodded, sending her into the next room. Wanda kissed your temple. “I told you she likes you.”

“I’m so spoiled,” you mumbled blissfully into her neck.

“You deserve it, angel,” she said.

Natasha returned to the room with the bottle of lotion. She approached you and rubbed your back gently. “Alright little angel, is it okay if I touch your bottom, or do you want mommy to do that part?”

You pondered for a moment. On one hand, having Wanda do it would mean getting to lay over her lap again. But, you found yourself inexplicably excited by the thought of Natasha putting your lotion on. Maybe, if you played your cards right, you could have the best of both worlds.

“You can do it, Miss Natasha,” you said while flipping yourself over to lay over Wanda’s lap.

“Oh,” Wanda squeaked in pleasant surprise. From this position she could’ve just as easily applied the lotion. She was pleased to know that you wanted Natasha to do it, though. She pulled up your shirt and rubbed your back.

“Okay, it’s gonna be a little cold,” Natasha advised, giggling a little bit when you jumped at the cool liquid anyway. Her hands were so gentle as she soothed your raw skin. You wondered if she was this gentle with her subs as well. “All done. Do you want a kiss?”

You nodded, feeling so completely at ease with the two women taking care of you. Natasha placed a gentle kiss to each of your red ass cheeks.

“Does Tasha’s kisses make it feel all better?” Wanda asked.

You nodded into Wanda’s thigh.

“I’m glad I could help,” Natasha giggled, placing the lotion on Wanda’s nightstand so it’d be ready for you again in the morning. She crawled back into bed, making herself comfortable on her side.

Wanda placed you face down on her own side of the bed, trying not to disturb you too much as she slid her legs out from under your body. She crawled over you, placing herself in the middle between you and Natasha, pulling you tight into her side.

You laid your head on her chest, catching a glimpse of Natasha’s pretty smile in the low lighting. She really didn’t look like she minded you being here at all. In fact, she looked happy.

In your fuzzy haze, you waved at her from across the bed.

Wanda and Natasha both giggled, hearts swelling at the innocence of the gesture. You just wanted Natasha to feel included, and what better way to acknowledge her presence than with a kind wave hello.

Natasha waved back. “Hi, little angel,” she said, reaching over Wanda to pinch your cheek.

You looked up at Wanda, your big eyes gently pleading. “Mommy, do you think I could sleep on your other side so I can be closer to Miss Natasha?”

Wanda smiled giddily. She never expected such a request from you, but she was more than happy to oblige. She was overjoyed to see your relationship with Natasha growing. “Of course, sweet girl,” she said, effortlessly flipping you over to her other side.

“You know, you don’t have to call her Miss Natasha,” Wanda said. You’d always called her that since you’d first met her without any prompting to do so. She certainly didn’t mind, but Wanda had always secretly hoped you’d get past the formality. There was nothing she wanted more than for her two favorite people to love each other as much as she loved them. “I bet she’d like it if you called her daddy. Only if you wanted to.”

You faced Natasha, who looked surprised at the proposal, but nodded.

“I thought only your subs were allowed to call you that?” You said, equally shocked by Wanda’s words.

“Hmm…” she pretended to ponder the question. “For my little angel I think I can make an exception.”

You smiled. “In that case,” you pressed a small kiss to her cheek. “Goodnight daddy.” You turned back to Wanda, placing a kiss on her jaw as you snuggled back into her chest. “Goodnight mommy. I love you.”

“Sweet dreams, little angel,” Natasha said, wrapping herself up behind you.

“Get some rest, little love,” Wanda said, kissing your head.

And finally, the pendulum stopped swinging.

Taglist (ha I remembered this time): @boredandneedsfanfic @marvelwomenarehot0

[avatar-anna]

Champagne Problems

so...this is super long, the longest fic i've written in a hot minute. like 18.k words long. i wasn't going to post it until part two was underway, but i'm kind of excited to share it. here is the aftermath of champagne problems...

Part Two

*.*

"Don Perignon, you bought it, no crowd of friends applauded, your hometown skeptics called it Champagne problems."

Your fingers moved across the keys of the grand piano as you mumbled softly to yourself, only loud enough that the voice recorder on your phone would pick up on it. This wasn't your typical method of songwriting, you weren't even sure there was a song to actually write; but the melody had been haunting you for days, pressing against your mind until you finally sat down and played it.

It wasn't often you thought of the events that occurred a year and a half ago. You usually did everything in your power not to think about that night, knowing that nothing ever good came out of dwelling on that particular wrinkle of your past. You only looked forward, sometimes hoping that if you didn't think about what happened, your memories of the worst night of your life would eventually disappear from your mind altogether.

But there was something about this melody that brought that night to the forefront of your memory. You'd played it over and over on the piano for a few minutes, waiting for the words to come. Your mind kept circling back to the past, and after trying to avoid it, you finally let emotion win out. No one was in the studio with you anyway, it would be safe to unlock that particular box. Just for a few minutes.

"She would've made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked up in the head," you said to yourself, the last part coming out as an afterthought. You laughed a little to yourself, remembering the disapproving stares and the whispers behind your back that people always thought went unnoticed by you. "But you'll find the real thing instead. She'll patch up your tapestry that I shed."

Despite knowing that leaving your would-be fiance was the right choice for you, breaking up with him was the hardest thing you'd ever done. It still hurt to remember that night, to recall the look of absolute devastation on his face when you stopped him from reaching into his pocket for the little velvet box you knew was in there. He didn't deserve to be wrecked so thoroughly, especially by someone like you. He had been sweet and kind and gentlemanly. He treated you like a princess and defended you to his family when they didn't approve. He was everything a man should've been to you and more.

And all you could do in return was prove his family right.

You stopped murmuring lyrics for a moment, letting that last thought float through the empty room on somber notes. You thought about your ex now, wondering where he was now and hoping he was well. You hoped he was in love and happy, that he'd forgotten all about you. He deserved all the best things that love could grant a person. You wanted that for him. You wanted someone who had the capacity for the kind of love he wanted to give.

Repeating the last few lines again, the next few thoughts came pouring out of you, the words carrying a bittersweet taste to them.

"Your mom's ring in your pocket, her picture in your wallet, you won't remember all my Champagne problems."

The song tapered off soon after that, and you realized there was nothing left in you to say. You felt lighter afterwards, as if pushing some of those long-forgotten memories out of you and onto the grand piano eased the weight you'd been carrying around on your shoulders for the last eighteen months. Quickly stopping the recording, you set a reminder on your phone to listen to it tomorrow and write down everything you'd said. The recording itself was lengthy, long pauses stretching between lyrics as you worked through your memories and attempted to vocalize them. Hopefully something was there to actually mold into verses and a chorus, if not, it was a rather odd but surprisingly satisfying therapy session.

Gathering your things into the bag at your feet, you stood up from the piano, stretching your arms above your head. It was easy to get lost in a good melody, but your poor body always paid the price if you spent too much time bent over a guitar or piano.

It was as you stretched that you realized someone was at the door. He was leaning against the doorframe, watching as you shouldered your bag and slipped your shoes back on your socked feet. He didn't say anything as you walked over to him, just stepped out of the way so you could walk out of the studio. Harry normally wasn't this quiet, in fact, he could be quite the chatterbox if the mood struck him. But his silence told you he'd probably heard more of your session than you would've liked. Because one thing Harry liked to do in all his chattering was pepper you with questions about yourself, which was annoying since you were constantly trying to have him not get to know you.

"Coffee?" was all he said as you walked toward the elevator at the end of the hall. The sleeve of his patterned sweater brushed against your arm, and you resisted the urge to lean into him. He always wore the coziest clothes when in the studio, and it made you want to walk just a little bit closer to his side, for no other reason than the feel of soft material on your arm and not the person wearing them.

Nodding, you said, "Sure."

Harry qucikly pressed the button when you reached the elevator, and you couldn't help but laugh a little. In the time you'd spent not getting to know him, you discovered that he was the kind of person that just had to press the elevator buttons. It didn't matter how many people he was with, it was like he took joy in something as simple as getting to press a button and watch it light up beneath his finger. He'd actually speed-walked to get ahead of you a couple times just so he could press the down button. It was kind of annoying, and perhaps a little childish, but you'd surprisingly grown to find it endearing. A quirk of Harry's that just made him who he was.

The ride down the elevator was quiet, and it wasn't until you were out on the street that he finally spoke. "I'm thinking about getting a pet."

You'd been bracing yourself for the inevitable questions about the song you'd been recording, and when they didn't come, your shoulders relaxed almost imperceptibly, though you were sure Harry noticed. "Really?"

"Yeah. All my friends are disgustingly in love," Harry said with a playful shudder. "I'm feeling like a third wheel most days, so I thought I would seek companionship of the furry variety. Wait, that came out wrong. I didn't mean—"

You chuckled at his stuttering, at the flush creeping up his neck and warming his cheeks. "I know what you mean," you said, sparing him any more embarrassment. "So what are you thinking then? Dog? Cat? Hamster?"

"Well, you see, that's the thing," he said, quickly recovering from his chagrin. "I'm not sure I have the time necessary to devote to training a puppy, but I'm also worried about getting a cat and it absolutely hating me, and..."

You listened as Harry explained in great detail the pros and cons of each kind of domestic animal one could have. He spoke animatedly with his hands, looking at you with those big green eyes of his, as if to make sure you were following his train of thought.

You never planned on befriending Harry, and even now you weren't sure that whatever was going on between you was considered a friendship. You'd always been the type to keep to yourself, especially after what happened with your ex. You'd not only lost him after the break up, but friends too, friends who thought that what you did to your ex was despicable and reprehensible and not worth keeping a friendship over, picking sides when you hadn't realized there were any. It hurt to lose so many people in one fell swoop, and you decided soon after that you were better off alone. Except for your brothers of course, but all of you kept so busy that it was hard to keep track of one another on a good day.

Outside of them, you realized it was hard to hurt someone when there was no one around you to hurt.

But Harry was different. You'd seen him around the building where you worked on your songs—in the hallways, waiting for the elevator (after pushing the button, of course), at the vending machine, on your way out of the studio or while he was entering it to start his session. The first thing you noticed was that he was never alone. Well, that wasn't entirely true. The first thing you really noticed was his smile, how it lit up his entire face and showcased the most adorable dimples you'd ever seen. But since you refused to admit that, the first thing you noticed was that he was never alone.

Harry was always coming and going with one or two or sometimes three people around him. He was always engaged in some kind of conversation, his head always turned as he listened aptly to what his friend was saying. It seemed so odd to you that he was hardly ever by himself. It was like a foreign language to you, and you imagined your constant solitude felt the same to him.

"Anytime you want to weigh in here would be great."

"If you want a pet, get one," you said simply.

Harry rolled his eyes as he held open the door to the coffee shop a couple blocks down the street from the building where you both worked, as if he was expecting anything other than your usual direct way of speaking. "If you don't keep this conversation going, then I'm going to have to ask about that incredibly depressing song you were working on, so please, indulge me in the great pet debate of twenty-eighteen."

For the most part, Harry was a pretty easy going guy. He had no problem carrying a conversation, and knew when not to pry. As the months went by, though, he knew how to get you to talk, how to find trap doors in the fortified walls you kept around yourself before you even knew they were there. It would be frustrating if his questions didn't always come with an endearing smile.

So you shrugged, eager to steer clear of any topics regarding your past. "I don't know, I'm a little biased. I've always been a dog person. Buddy's my best friend."

"First of all, I'm offended by the fact that I am not your best friend, and second, since when do you have a dog?"

The conversation paused while you and Harry went up to the counter to order you coffees. Both of you went there enough that the staff knew what you liked—dirty chai for you and an americano for him. It also meant you didn't have to deal with the barista having a mini-freak out at the realization that Harry Styles was in their coffee house. People tended to interrupt your conversations with Harry regularly—on the street, in line for coffee, at the table—but he never seemed bothered by it. He always smiled and indulged in a couple minutes of conversation and the occasional picture before waving goodbye. He always apologized to you afterward, but after the first couple times it happened, you waved him off. None of it was actually his fault, and seeing him interact with his fans became something you actually enjoyed watching. And it was perhaps a very small reminder as to why you preferred to just write songs for other artists, not perform them. You didn't need that kind of attention. For Harry, he seemed to come alive like a flower in bloom.

You? You would probably just wilt.

When you and Harry sat down with your drinks, he raised his brows for you to continue. Wrapping your hands around your cup, you shrugged again. "I've had Buddy for about a year now."

"What kind of dog?"

"Mostly pitbull, I think. I found him in an alley behind a restaurant once, and I know what shelters do to pitbulls, so I adopted him."

You'd come to think of the whole thing as Buddy finding you.

"And you named him Buddy?"

"Yeah, I don't know, after Buddy Holly I guess." You'd grown up listening to classic rock because your brothers did, and the name just kind of made sense to you. And he was just so cute, he was your little buddy. Big buddy now, you supposed. You thought he deserved the cutest name for the cutest boy in your life.

The rest of your time in the coffee house was filled with chatter, mostly from Harry. He talked a little more about the Great Pet Debate, then about the project he and his team was working on. An album, though they were only just getting started seeing as Harry just came back from tour. He tried peppering you with the occasional question, knowing if he asked too many you'd clam up and shut down. It was almost like Harry knew that you were fighting getting to know him, but that it wasn't just him, it was everyone. He was patient with you for some reason, though, seemingly content to chip away at the brick walls around you. Even if all he had was a spoon.

"So...What were you working on at the studio?" Harry finally asked.

You knew it was coming, so answering didn't seem so daunting. "I'm not really sure. The melody had been in my head for days, and I finally decided to play around with it."

"A perfect non-answer from Y/n L/n, everyone," Harry said, though you knew he was joking. His eyes were crinkled with mirth as he hid behind his cup, his brows raising to give you a knowing look.

Nothing about your past was easy to talk about, so you just didn't. After your breakup, you didn't even tell your brothers the finer details, not wanting to relive it or face all their questions. It all brought you an overwhelming sense of shame and despair. But maybe there had been something cathartic about your session today and it left you feeling lighter and open because you found yourself sharing more with Harry.

"It...reminded of me and my ex, so I kind of just let it all out. I'm not even sure what I was doing constituted as songwriting, but," you looked down at your mug. "The melody dredged up some old memories, I guess."

"It sounded painful," Harry said, his voice taking on a soft, sincere tone.

You knew he meant well, but the sympathy made you skittish. "It's fine. It was a long time ago."

"Right, of course," Harry said, catching on to your mood change. "Well, um, my friends and I are having a little get-together of sorts this Saturday. You should come."

"A party?"

"No. A get-together. Very different," Harry corrected.

It made sense, the last time Harry tried to invite you to a party his friend was throwing, you politely declined, claiming they weren't really your thing. They weren't, but it was more that having friends wasn't really your thing.

You wanted to say no again, but when you met Harry's eyes, something in you hesitated. His expression was open, earnest, like he would genuinely be upset if you said you wouldn't come. You didn't quite understand why he wanted to spend time with you so much. Maybe you felt a little bad for always pushing him away, or maybe you were actually warming up to him.

"I, um...that might be fun," you said, not sure if it was nerves or excitement swimming in your belly.

The way Harry's face lit up made saying you would come worth it.

After a few more minutes at the coffee house, you and Harry went your separate ways, but not before he made you promise to join you on one of your morning walks with Buddy Holly. Something must've been in the air today, because you found yourself nodding before heading down the street away from him.

On your way home, you got a phone call from your oldest brother Evan. "Hey, Evan. How's life treating you in the Big Apple?"

"Just fine. It'd be a lot better if I got to see my kid sister more often. Are you still coming for Thanksgiving?"

Of your three brothers, Evan was the one who checked up on you the most. Perhaps that was the nature of being the oldest of four, but he had always been the most responsible, the one to keep you and your other brothers in line. Well, mostly your other brothers. But Evan had always looked out for you. He was the only one you told at length about your breakup. You'd confided in him all your life, and he was coincidentally the only one of your brothers you could count on not to go and beat up on your ex or his family.

"Flight's booked and everything," you told him. "Not sure if I can swing a trip to the lake house, though."

Despite your less than ideal upbringing, you and your brothers had all done pretty well for yourselves. No thanks to your parents, seeing as you all shared a dad who never liked to be with the same woman twice. But you and your brothers all stuck together through thick and thin, supporting and celebrating and sticking together despite the differing parentage between the four of you. And now you were all scattered, your brothers Andrew and Hayden were professional athletes and Evan was a bigshot lawyer. Once you moved out of your hometown, you really only saw your brothers for holidays. And the occasional surprise visit from Andrew, though that hadn't happened in a while.

"That's okay," Evan said. "Next time."

"Next time," you agreed. Then, "How's the family?"

"Good. Sammy's gotten so big. And Laura's already showing."

You grinned as you imagined Evan's family. He deserved a happy ending with a loving family after raising you and the idiots you called brothers. "Another team member for the family football game."

"Speaking of the family football game," Evan said, and you mentally cursed yourself. "Laura's been dying to know if she should set an extra spot at the table."

Immediately, your mind went to Harry, but you quickly whisked that thought away. "Nope. Unless Hayden's got a new girlfriend."

"Really? No one?"

You narrowed your eyes even though Evan couldn't see your expression. "Why are you fishing? Gossip is Andy's thing."

"What? I'm not fishing!" Evan spluttered, but you just scoffed and waited. Evan might've been a shark in the courtroom, but he'd always been terrible at lying to you. "Fine. Laura was reading one of her gossip magazines, and you know I don't pay attention to those, but you know, I might have seen someone who looks an awful lot like you pictured alongside a former boy band member."

Well, shit. You knew that was a reality of being Harry's acquaintance, but you'd always done your best to not pay any attention to it. So far it had done a good job, but now it was coming to bite you in the ass.

"It's nothing, Evan. He's an artist. I'm a songwriter. We work in the same building," you said.

"Fine! Fine," Evan said, and you could just picture him holding his hands up in surrender the way he'd done since you were a teenager. "I just thought I'd ask now and try to soften the blow. I'll just leave you to the wolves."

"Damn you, Evan," you muttered. Evan was the easy brother. It was Andrew and Hayden you had to look out for. They would interrogate you relentlessly, or worse, squeeze the life out of you until you caved. Sighing deeply through your nose, you said, "I will ask if Harry has plans for that weekend. And that is it."

"See? That wasn't so hard!"

You rolled your eyes. "I'll talk to you later."

"You love me!" Evan called just before hanging up.

The call ended just as you pulled up to your apartment. You sat back with a huff, marveling at the strings your brother managed to pull from thousands of miles away. But deep down, you knew Evan was just looking out for you. After everything that happened eighteen months ago, he'd been keeping a close eye. As close an eye as he could all the way from New York. But that was how things worked between you and your brothers. You all looked out for each other, and your older brothers acted as personal security guards to any and everyone who so much as looked at you the wrong way. It was both endearing and very annoying.

Very annoying. Now you had to invite Harry to Thanksgiving. Evan was so going to get it.

*.*

On Saturday, you found yourself standing in front of your mirror longer than you normally would've. Harry had used the term "get-together" as a means to ease your nerves, but now that the dreaded day had come, you realized you weren't sure what that meant in terms of dress code. Was this thing laid-back? What if casual still meant dressy to Harry and his friends? Harry usually walked around the studio in jeans and faded t-shirts, but he was still a celebrity. He could see this as an opportunity to dress up.

You looked at all the clothes spread out in your room. You'd changed an embarrassing amount of times now, but nothing seemed fitting for the occasion. I could always text him, you thought, biting your nail as you surveyed the tornado of clothes around you. Harry had given you your number earlier this week so he could text you his address. You hadn't wanted to, as it would open the flood gates for conversation outside the studio, but you eventually gave it up when he stared blankly at you after offering your email as an alternative.

Before you could think too long about it, you picked up your phone and sent a quick text. Before you even had a chance to set it down, Harry sent a reply.

Harry S: We're just chilling at my house. Dress as comfortably as you'd like :))

Well, that wasn't helpful at all, you thought, but didn't say to Harry. You went back to rummaging through your pile of clothes, creating a spot for Buddy when he ambled into your bedroom from the kitchen. In the end, you settled on something simple: jeans, platform shoes, and a colorful fleece jacket over a plain shirt. It felt silly to have wasted so much time on your wardrobe when all you were doing was going to see Harry. And his friends. And that was...intimidating.

The anxiety of meeting Harry's friends, of meeting anyone new, crept through you. You didn't want to go and face the inevitability of disappointing them. Your track record with friends was pretty abysmal. But you found yourself kissing Buddy's head and promising you wouldn't be gone long, and then you were getting in your car and plugging in the address Harry had given you.

The music playing in your car calmed you some. Etta James' voice was both familiar and comfortable, welcome feelings as you pulled up to Harry's house. House was a bit of an understatement, though. Maybe a villa, or an estate. The LA version of those sprawling castles that were all over Europe. Your shoulders were tense as you cruised up the long driveway, though your anxiety eased a bit when you saw that had seen about as much life and mileage parked up front as yours did.

Music was playing inside the house, you could hear the trill of soft guitar and the low hum of a male voice from outside, and you worried if anyone would be able to hear you as you knocked on the door. Thankfully, you only stood on Harry's doorstep for a minute or two, then Harry's familiar grin greeted you.

"You made it!" Harry said, pulling you over the threshold and in for a quick side hug. He looked down at you for a moment, his cheeks flushed and green eyes bright, perhaps from drinking. He shook his head a little before pulling you further into the house. "Come in, come in, everyone is just through here."

Harry led you further into his home, giving you a chance to look around. Despite the grandeur of the outside, Harry's house was actually quite cozy and inviting. Everything was in warm tones, and potted plants and bookshelves piled high with a mix of books and records with titles you couldn't read from this distance. His house looked actually lived in, which couldn't be said for some of the other celebrity homes you'd been in. It didn't happen often as you preferred to work alone, but you occasionally dabbled in writing sessions with other artists. Their homes looked much more modern, and much more cold, than Harry's did.

"My home in London is much smaller," Harry said, noticing your craned neck. Then he shrugged, looking a little sheepish. "But I liked the look of this place. It reminded me of a house I go to in Italy most summers."

"It's beautiful," you said. "I've always wanted to go to Italy."

"You've never been?"

You shook your head, admiring the arch leading into an open kitchen. "I was supposed to go for—"

For my birthday, you couldn't bring yourself to say. Gavin had planned a summer trip to Italy for your birthday, but that never happened. You surprised yourself by revealing that much, and by the way Harry's eyes lit up, you'd taken him by surprise too.

But he didn't press you to finish your thought. He just smiled and led you further into the kitchen. "Come on. You need a drink."

Harry talked while he fixed up your drink. He'd tried to persuade you to take a shot of tequila with him, his eyebrows wiggling up and down, a look on his face that you'd seen one too many times on your brothers when they were trying to stir up trouble. You declined with a laugh, opting for a glass of wine instead. Maybe a boring choice, Harry definitely thought so as he teased by saying, "Booooring!" but you needed to be sharp, and tequila tended to have the opposite effect, so red wine it was.

"Everyone's through here. I hope you like games because Kid brought a new one over and everyone has become quite invested."

Games? Is that what Harry Styles did on his evenings off? Play board games with his friends? Before you could ask, Harry led you into his living room, where everyone was in fact sitting around a rather spacious coffee table, a board game and playing cards spread out around it. It was a small group of about five or six. For some reason you expected more people, even though Harry said otherwise. They were all talking amongst themselves, talking strategy, you presumed, as you recognized the game as one of those territory-winning ones.

All the talking stopped, however, when Harry introduced you to the group.

You felt their eyes on you, judging, picking you apart where you stood. You began to curl in on yourself, wilting at the attention. Involuntarily, you took a step back, but Harry's hand was on your lower back, warm and comforting against you. You should've pulled away, but you didn't, thankful for at least some kind of familiarity among all the new.

It had been so long since you'd had to meet new people in a non-professional setting. You'd met with producers and artists and other industry people all the time, but there was always a wall of professionalism between you and them. You knew how to navigate that space with ease, but here, where people were sitting on pillows and holding playing cards, where you stood as the outlier among what was clearly a tight-knit group, you felt very much like a fish out of water. A fish in space.

"H—Hello," you managed to say, giving everyone a small wave.

One person got up. A young woman with short brown hair, winged eyeliner marking the corners of her eyes. Her smile was surprisingly warm, but what had your eyes widening even more was when she pulled you in for a hug, squeezing tight.

"I'm Sylvia," she said. "It's so nice to finally meet you."

"Finally?"

You probably shouldn't have said that, but you weren't expecting such a warm welcome.

"Harry talks about you constantly. I swear sometimes he purposely keeps you from us."

"That is not—That is not true," Harry said, speaking to you for a moment. He sounded serious, but his eyes were filled with amusement as if he was used to Sylvia's teasing.

Everyone else introduced themselves, and you tried to keep a smile on your face as you committed their names to memory. They were all part of Harry's "team" except for Sylvia—writers, producers, musicians. "And you?" you asked her as she pulled you down to sit next to her. Sylvia had insisted you be on her team while you learned how to play. She seemed nice, eager to get to know you, but you didn't trust it. Not yet.

"I'm a full-time mom most days, and a part-time life coach to this one," Sylvia joked. She seemed too young to be a mother, but you supposed they came in all shapes and sizes. "But I'm Harry's nutritionist. And friend when he's not being a pain in the ass."

There was a wry grin on the young woman's face that told you she was fond of Harry, and fond of teasing him, if said grin grew when Harry said, "Hey," was anything to go by. It eased your mind a bit, her kindness and obvious fondness for Harry. She spoke animatedly as she caught you up on the rules of the game and gossip from her yoga class. "They're all in love with that one, of course. Can't take him anywhere," she said with a nod in Harry's direction.

When you agreed to join Harry tonight, you figured you would spend your time with him. But Sylvia kept you occupied most of the evening, and he and his friends were rather invested in the game. You were content to watch, enjoying the playful bickering and shouts of surprise and celebration. It was interesting to see how they all interacted with each other. Harry and his friends sat and drank around his coffee table while you nursed your drink, observing with the sweet feeling of nostalgia swimming through your veins.

"Y/n?"

You jumped in your spot on the floor, your wine sloshing around in your glass a little. Thankfully, nothing poured out. You would've been mortified if you'd spilled red wine all over Harry's most likely exorbitantly expensive carpet.

Eyes flicking to a man with short blond hair, you said, "Sorry?"

Kid, you were pretty sure his name was, asked his question again. "Did you first start writing here in LA?"

"Uh...no. Nashville, actually," you said. "I lived in Nashville for a while before moving out here. But I...grew up in a small town just outside."

"You never told me that," Harry said, sounding both intrigued and a little hurt that you'd never shared that with him before.

Emboldened by your near-empty glass, you said, "You never asked."

That earned a few chuckles and a raised brow from Harry as if he'd just accepted a challenge you hadn't meant to create. But you read that look in his eyes with ease. Any look was quite easy to read from Harry. He was expressive, an open book. He was going to take this as an opportunity to ask you all the questions he'd been witholding.

Throwing back the rest of your wine, you avoided his eye and ignored the excited flip in your belly.

*.*

If it wasn't for your dog, you were pretty sure you wouldn't be able to keep up with Harry Styles and his impossibly long gait.

He'd kept to his word, insisting that he join you on one of your walks with Buddy Holly. It wasn't until a few days after you went to his house for the first time, but one morning before you usually headed into the studio, he texted and asked if he could join you for your morning walk with your dog. It took some convincing, which really only meant a series of uninterrupted texts until you finally relented.

Buddy took to Harry immediately, of course, though that wasn't a surprise, seeing as your dog was friendly with everyone. But it meant a lot to you that he seemed to like Harry so much. Buddy was a rescue, and you couldn't imagine the awful things he'd been through before you'd given him a proper home.

Now he walked on the sidewalk excitedly, pulling you on his leash as his stubby tail waved around wildly. Harry walked beside you, his curly hair pulled back with a little black claw clip, some of it sticking up in a cute tuft. As he walked beside you, you took the opportunity to study him. There was a little scruff on his cheeks and jaw, creeping down the nape of his neck. His jaw was strong and angular, his cheekbones sharp. Harry really was beautiful. You understood why so many people went so crazy for him.

"See anything you like?"

Warmth flushed your cheeks as you quickly looked ahead, even if the damage was already done. Harry rarely, if ever, caught you staring at him, mostly because it didn't happen often. But in the last few weeks, you'd found yourself admiring him more and more. The movements he made with his hand as he told a story, the mischievous glint in his eye when he made you laugh, the way his arms moved beneath his shirt, how his lips curled around a smile. You cataloged each mannerism, each vocal inflection, and after just a few weeks following that night at his house with his friends, you felt like you knew him quite well.

Shrugging, you feigned nonchalance as your eyes darted back to Buddy, who had stopped to sniff a tree.

You could feel Harry's gaze on you, but you tried not to squirm. His gaze pricked your skin, making you feel things you absolutely shouldn't have been feeling. It was uncomfortable and exhilarating, and you didn't like how much you were warming up to him.

Used to your wordless answers, Harry moved on. "You're making me rethink my decision to get a cat."

"You decided, then?"

"I think I'm more of cat person," Harry said. "Well that, and I think I've found the one, but I'm worried about all the traveling."

"It can stay with me," you said, eyes widening when you did. But it was true, you realized. You were close enough to Harry to promise that kind of thing.

"Well, in that case," Harry said, and you finally looked over to him.

His grin was wide as he looked down at you, and though you couldn't see his eyes behind his sunglasses, you knew they were more than likely squinted with mirth. You liked that smile, you realized. It was uninhibited, full of warmth and good intentions. You wanted to trust it, to give in to the friendship Harry was offering.

But you couldn't. Harry didn't deserve the abysmal companionship you offered in return, and you felt bad for leading him along when you knew you'd eventually fuck things up. You always did.

Your phone buzzing thankfully pulled you away from your thoughts. Looking at it, you saw a text from your brother, Hayden. You think Laura will be cool with a few football players in her house for Thanksgiving? it said, and you shook your head as you typed a quick reply, a small grin spreading across your face.

Hayden was only going to be in town the day of Thanksgiving, as he had a game the day after. You didn't think he would make it at all, seeing how full his schedule usually was, but he managed to squeeze it in. Apparently his game wasn't too far from Evan's house. As long as he, and his teammates now, didn't drink too much, they would be just fine.

You: I don't think so. Laura might put y'all to work around the house though.

Hayden: Seems fair.

Hayden: Are YOU bringing anyone home?

Hayden: Because I can sit you next to one of my teammates.

Hayden: I take that back. Forget I said that. No teammate of mine is going near my sister.

Rolling your eyes, you stuffed your phone in your back pocket. Harry was looking at you with a curious gaze, and you scrambled to explain yourself. "My brother," you said. "Apparently he's inviting some of his football buddies to Thanksgiving this year."

"Does he play at university?" Harry asked. You could almost hear the eagerness in his voice at the opportunity to learn more about you, and while sharing in general made you squirm, your brothers were fairly easy to talk about.

"He did. He's in the NFL now."

"Oh nice You must be—Wait what's his name?"

"Hayden?"

Harry stopped walking for a moment. When you tried to stop too, Buddy protested, tugging the leash, and the wrist you had wrapped around it pulled uncomfortably. Murmuring a quick apology, Harry kept walking, keeping pace with your energetic puppy.

"Your brother is Hayden L/n?"

You nodded. "I'm guessing you've heard of him then?"

A bark of laughter slipped from Harry's lips. You'd never seen him so caught off guard before. It was strange, but also a relief to know that someone as steady as Harry wasn't so unflappable all the time.

Rubbing a hand over his mouth, he said, "I think everyone has heard of him. Any other famous brothers I should know about?"

"I don't know how you quantify fame, but my other brother is in the NHL. He plays for a team on the east coast."

Andrew was the youngest of your family. Despite that, he still considered himself your older brother, which had always been annoying growing up, especially when you were taller than him for a few years. He was rather sweet for someone so aggressive on the ice. He spent a lot of time with his mom, but was still close to you, Evan, and Hayden. It was hard not to be when you all shared the same deadbeat dad.

Outside of Evan, you probably talked to Andrew the most. You were the closest in age and grew up going to school together, and while his main focus was hockey, whenever he was in town, he'd go with you to concerts to see whatever indie band you were into or treat you to tickets to a show at the arena he played for.

"You have a third, right?" Harry asked, and you weren't even surprised that he remembered even though you were sure you'd only mentioned it once or twice.

"Evan. He's a lawyer in New York, but he lives in Connecticut with his wife and daughter," you said.

Now would be the perfect opportunity to invite Harry to Thanksgiving. You were looping back around on the trail, heading back to the park entrance where you'd met Harry this morning. Evan would pester you about it until you did, or worse, get Hayden and Andrew involved. You just had to throw it out there, be as casual as possible. Easy. You were all about being casual.

"So, um, he—Evan—he, um, said if I wanted I could invite a friend to Thanksgiving. If I wanted to."

"Oh yeah?" You weren't looking at him, but you could hear the grin in his voice.

Swallowing thickly as you willed your cheeks not to flush, you continued to look at Buddy as you spoke. "You probably already have plans, but I just thought I would ask if you wanted to come. Laura, Evan's wife, is a great cook, and it's usually pretty low-key until football gets turned on. But no offensive aunts or uncles or anything like that. Just us."

That was definitely too many words, but the amused look in Harry's eyes didn't feel antagonizing. "I would love to, but um, I already promised my mum I would go home that week."

"Oh." You didn't mean to sound disappointed. It was a good thing that Harry was going home to see his mother. And him meeting your brothers for the first time all at once probably would've scared him out of talking to you in the studio, so really it was for the best. It was for the best. "That's okay. You must be excited to go home. How long has it been?"

"London? Not too long, but I'm headed back to Manchester, and my mum has not been shy in letting me know that it's been too long since..."

You listened to Harry the rest of the walk back, trying to fight off the disappointment gnawing inside you that he'd said no. You didn't want that feeling in you. You wanted to be indifferent. It's for the best. You repeated it over and over until you convinced yourself it was true.

*.*

"You had a speech, you're speechless. Love slipped beyond your reaches. And I couldn't give a reason, Champagne problems."

You scribbled in your notebook, crossing out words from the original recording and replacing them with better ones. You hadn't planned to go back to this song. After recording it on your phone, you figured it wouldn't see the light of day again. But something kept bringing you back to it. So you worked on it between other projects, playing around with the lyrics and melody in small doses so that the past wouldn't overwhelm you.

Guilt seeped into your bones as you recalled what happened eighteen, almost nineteen, months ago. Sometimes you wished you could forget everything you'd done, but other times you decided being forced to remember was part of your penance for causing so much pain. Gavin was a good man. He was so kind and so smart, he didn't have a cruel bone in his body. And you'd taken his goodness, you'd welcomed all his kindness, and crushed it in your hands.

Wiping away a tear, you shut your notebook definitively. Your session in the studio was far from over, but you were done for the day.

On your way out, you kept your head down, not wanting anyone to see your watery eyes. You could feel the tears building, and you hoped you could at least make it to your car before you turned into a mess. It was so hard sometimes. Some days you felt great. You would write good songs, take Buddy for a walk and teach him a new trick, you would get coffee with Harry and laugh, and everything would be fine. But then there were days where the mere thought of the past sent you careening off course, leaving you with nothing but the intrusive thoughts you thought you'd learned how to keep at bay.

Today happened to be one of those days, and you hoped you could escape and wallow in self-pity unnoticed. But before you could even make it to the elevator, you bumped into something solid and warm. Arms wrapped around you to hold you steady before you could spring back, and against your better judgment, you looked up, an apology poised on your lips.

"Y/n, are you okay? What's wrong?"

You should've known that you would be unlucky enough to run into Harry on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Blinking rapidly, you shook your head and stepped out of his grasp, though that didn't make you feel any better. "I'm fine."

"You can talk to me," Harry insisted. His brows furrowed with concern, but he didn't come any closer. There was a bag slung over his shoulder and a hat covering up his hair, with only a few stray curls sticking out beneath it. He looked like he was just going into the studio for a session.

"I'm fine, I promise," you lied, not wanting to be the reason he was late for studio time. "I'm just leaving for the day."

You tried to step around Harry, but his hands fell down on your shoulders. His gaze burned, but you couldn't make yourself look him in the eye. You knew the moment you saw the sympathy swimming in them you'd burst into tears.

"Please let me go," you said, but it came out as more of a squeak, your voice breaking on the last word.

To your surprise, Harry did, and even though that was what you'd asked for, what you wanted, you somehow felt worse. Shuffling around him, you mumbled a quick goodbye and bypassed the elevator, not wanting to wait awkwardly for it to come up while he was still in the hall. It wasn't until you finally got in your car that you let everything out, all the guilt and loneliness and self-loathing that you kept bottled up regularly.

So often you were able to pretend the past didn't exist. But then there were days where you were almost slapped in the face by the consequences of your actions. Negative thoughts followed you all the way home and into your bed. Not even hiding under the covers kept you from feeling everything all at once. Your mind spun as you thought of Gavin, of his elated grin crumpling into a look of betrayal as you told him you were ending it.

You remembered every detail from that night. The brand of Champagne Gavin bought for the would-be occasion, the woodsy cologne he wore, the looks on his friends' and family's faces as you hurried down the stairs to leave the party, unable to bear their shame and disapproval, or the heart you'd broken on the landing in his family's mansion.

You didn't know he was going to propose until mere moments before it happened. You had only been seeing Gavin for a few months, and things were good. He made you happy, and you liked having someone to go through life with. He liked to shower you with expensive gifts, for no other reason than to show you he cared and because he could. You didn't have the same kind of wealth he or his family did, not even with the substantial amount of money you made as a successful songwriter. But you'd write him poems and leave them places you knew he'd find them and looped your arm through his at company parties. Things were good.

Every year, Gavin's family hosted a Christmas party, and last year was the first time you'd been invited. You hadn't wanted to go, mostly because in the two weeks leading up to the party, you realized you weren't in the same place Gavin was emotionally, and you weren't sure you ever would be. But Gavin insisted, promising it would be fun and he wouldn't abandon you to his family, who had been nothing but cold since the moment he'd introduced them to you. So you went, sipping on Champagne in a glass made of crystal and wondering if the guilty pit at the bottom of your stomach would ever stop growing.

It was a couple hours into the party when you'd stumbled on a conversation between Gavin's mother and sister, one that made your blood run cold with dread.

"Did Gav really ask you for your ring?" his sister asked.

His mother nodded gravely. "He wants to do it tonight."

"What? That's ridiculous! They've barely been together a year!"

"I'm sure she would make a lovely bride, she's beautiful, I'll give her that," his mother conceded, but you could hear the disdain in her voice loud and clear. "It's just a shame that she's—"

"Fucked in the head?"

"Larissa! Language!"

"What? She is! She's a total basket case, and everyone can see it but him. She'll never make him happy. How could she? Putting a ring on it doesn't change a thing. Gavin would have a psych patient, not a wife. He deserves better."

The rest of the night was a blur, but you knew you couldn't wait. You didn't want to break up with Gavin on the night of his family's Christmas party, but if he was going to propose, you couldn't let him. The hurt would be so much worse if you had to slide the ring off your finger a week or two after the proposal.

Gavin called you for weeks afterward, begging you to help him understand. His family did too, and his friends, people you considered friends as well, but it was clear once there was a line drawn in the sand where everyone stood, and they didn't have any trouble letting you know how horrible you were for doing what you did. Sometimes when you let yourself get angry, you wondered why Gavin's mother and sister, or any of them really, were so aggressive about your break up. They'd never wanted you to be with him in the first place, and even though they'd gotten their wish, they still called you a heartless monster.

But above all that, Gavin's messages made the deepest cut. He sounded so devastated in each voicemail. And at first, all he wanted was to talk, to somehow work it all out as if it was one big misunderstanding. I know my family can be a lot, but I love you so much, he'd said in a text. We can go to Italy like we'd planned. Elope. Buy a little cottage and just start a new life somewhere else. Please, Y/n. Talk to me. I love you.

Messages like those were the toughest pills to swallow. You knew Gavin loved you, you never doubted that for a moment. The problem was you didn't feel the same. You didn't know why. You cared for Gavin a lot, and in the beginning, you had all those giddy, initial relationship feelings, but they never developed beyond that. And when you noticed Gavin's feelings growing more and more each day while yours didn't, you started to panic.

But it was when those messages turned angry, hateful even, that hurt the most. It was what you deserved after what you'd done, but to know that you'd turned one of the gentlest souls you knew into a spiteful one killed you almost as much as stopping him from getting down on one knee had.

In the midst of all your crying and hyperventilating, your phone buzzed. Wiping your eyes and nose, you lifted your phone to your face, squinting at the bright light.

Harry S: I know you probably want space, but I'm here for you xx

You shouldn't be, was your first thought, but all you texted back was, Just a bad day that's all.

Harry's response was almost immediate, as if he was waiting around for your reply.

Harry S: Well, if you ever need a friend, you know where to find me :))

You sighed, feeling another wave of tears overwhelm you. The pressure of friendship weighed heavily on your chest. All you could offer was disappointment, and you couldn't stomach the thought of letting someone like Harry down. He was too good a person to be your friend. All you could offer him was disappointment and pain. You were toxic, and better off left alone.

You: We're not friends. I don't want to be your friend so just leave me alone.

*.*

Weeks went by and you were positively miserable. Thanksgiving came and went, and even your brothers could sense not to pry about your sour mood. Evan tried to get you alone, but you didn't want to talk. You didn't want to explain how you'd fucked things up so royally. Again. You didn't want his sympathy, or Hayden's promise to fight anyone who hurt you, or Andrew's cheesy jokes to lift your spirits. What you wanted had been all the way in England and had been giving you the cold shoulder. Just like you'd asked.

Harry stopped saying hi to you at the studio, which hurt more than you thought it would. In the grand scheme of things, you hadn't known him very long, but seeing him in the hallway and watching him purposely avoid you felt awful. You only had yourself to blame, but you thought it was better to let him down early on than further down the line. You couldn't have another Gavin situation on your hands.

But this felt entirely different. Even though you'd only spoken to Harry for a month, his absence from your life was more poignant than you expected it to be. When you ended things with Gavin, you felt guilty for hurting him, but ultimately, there was a sense of relief that you weren't leading him on, that crushing weight of his family's disapproval on your chest lifted. Breaking up with Gavin was hard, but it was the right thing to do for you, there was no doubt in your mind about that.

But this thing with Harry...you'd pushed him away when you were feeling vulnerable. A preemptive measure for the both of you, but there was no relief, no justifiable sense of rightness in your gut in the days following.

Part of you wanted to reach out to him and apologize, but you worried he hated you now and didn't know how to bridge the gap you created between the two of you.

Opportunity struck when you overheard a conversation between Harry and...Mitch. you were pretty sure that was Mitch from that night at Harry's house. It was about a week after you came back from your brother's house, and all three of them were constantly calling or texting despite their busy schedules. You wouldn't have put it past any of them to have set up times to routinely check in on you. It warmed your heart some, but nothing would feel right until you fixed things with Harry. Pushing him away had been a mistake, you saw that now. You'd done it in a moment when you were at your lowest, and that wasn't fair to either of you.

"I'm sorry, mate," Harry said to Mitch. "I didn't even think to ask if you were allergic before adopting a cat. I feel like an idiot now."

So he went ahead with his plan to get a pet, then. The thought made you smile, but you held it in. You were pressed into the corner of the elevator up to the studio. Harry was definitely aware of your presence, but he hadn't acknowledged you. Mitch gave you an awkward wave, but that was somehow worse.

"No worries, man," Mitch said now, stepping out of the elevator with Harry. He was in a white t-shirt and a light brown cardigan today, his curly brown hair looking beautifully windswept. You refused to think about the current state of your hair, which was hiding beneath a blue baseball cap. "I'll just have to—"

You never found out what Mitch would have to do because they rounded a corner of the hallway, leaving you alone outside the elevator. Quickly scurrying into your usual studio, you sat down at the grand piano, letting the smooth keys cool your sweaty palms. You felt breathless, but it wasn't the usual anxiety-ridden breathlessness you were used to. This felt different, your heart speeding up at the thought of Harry's broad shoulders beneath his sweater.

"Pull yourself together, Y/n," you told yourself.

The damage was done—once again, at your hands, but you couldn't help that right this second. Right now you had work to do.

The next day, you did something you didn't normally do—venture outside of your studio. Since working in the building, you'd never thought to explore the other rooms, to introduce yourself or make friends the way Harry had with you. As you walked down the long hallway of closed and half-open doors, you wondered who was behind them, what kind of projects were being worked on right now.

Most importantly, you wanted to know which door Harry sat behind.

After a day of writing, of trying to lean into more positive feelings, the small hope you had for a brighter future. You left the studio feeling lighter after another introspective session. There'll be happiness after you, but there was happiness because of you, both of these things can be true, you'd written, forming your thoughts around a melody that was both somber and hopeful. That moment when you'd pushed Harry away was the lowest you'd felt in a while, but you didn't want to feel that way anymore. All Harry had been asking for was friendship. You could do friendship, in fact, you craved it.

So now you were trying to make things right with Harry, or at least apologize for your rude text. He'd only ever been incredibly kind to you, and you'd treated him like garbage.

You came across a door that was partially open, laughter filtering out and reaching you in the hallway. Harry's voice was mixed among them, and hearing him laugh filled you with butterflies. Going to his studio suddenly felt like a mistake. You didn't want to bring down his mood, especially if it would affect his writing for the day.

But you finally worked up the courage to knock on the open door. You'd already made it this far. The knock immediately sobered up everyone inside the studio, and you waited outside with your gift bag clutched in your hands. One of Harry's friends appeared, eyes widening when he saw you there.

"Y/n," he said. "It's good to see you."

You couldn't tell if he was pleased to see you or not, and nerves slowly began to creep in.

"I—I won't take up too much of your time, I know y'all are probably busy," you said. "I just, um, could you give this to Harry, please?"

You shoved the bag in the man's direction, forcing him to take it. "You can come in. He's just inside—"

"No, it's okay. I should probably get back to it. So, uh, see you."

You turned and fled, heat flooding your cheeks. Honestly, you were surprised you made it that far. You figured your courage would fizzle out before knocking on the studio door.

Settling back in your studio, you pulled out your journal and phone out of your bag, and opened up to a fresh page to work on a new song. On the way into work this morning, your agent pitched you an opportunity to write for an up-and-coming artist. "Something light, Y/n," she'd said, knowing you'd been writing mostly sad, break-up songs recently. "If it doesn't work out, then it doesn't work out, but at least try. You've always liked to challenge yourself."

So you were putting away the Champagne problems for now and channeling your happiest thoughts. You even brought your computer to stream romantic comedies while you worked for some additional inspiration.

You were halfway through When Harry met Sally when that inspiration finally struck. Lighter, happier words finally filled your journal, a rare, but not completely uncommon occurrence. You'd written love songs in the past, both before and while you were with Gavin. But surprisingly, Gavin wasn't who came to mind, nor was it the characters in the movie on your computer.

You thought of Harry's smile, his flushed cheeks after he'd had a couple drinks, his green eyes that seemed to sparkle when he laughed. Did you have a crush on him? You weren't entirely sure, maybe you just admired his goodness. And, okay fine, his unfair amount of good looks too. But you tried not to focus too long on who exactly inspired you, just on making sure the words kept flowing onto the page.

Perhaps you should've expected Harry to stop by, but you hadn't. His voice startled you, your eyes having been glued to the screen of your computer as the final scene of Roman Holiday played out in front of you. It had always been one of your favorites, and you decided that a brain break was needed as the final third of the film rolled around.

"What's this?"

No matter how many times you'd seen it, the ending never failed to bring tears to your eyes. Seeing the glisten of tears in Gregory Peck's eyes as he stared longingly at Audrey Hepburn's, knowing they loved each other but could never be together was heartbreaking. It had been the most tragic thing you'd ever experienced when you first watched it as a girl, and it hadn't even happened to you.

It was those tears now that you wiped away, a warmth creeping up your cheeks because this was the second time Harry had caught you crying. How embarrassing.

Looking up, you saw the gift bag in one hand, the other in his pocket as he stared at you blankly. No warmth or his usual smile, but he wasn't glaring at you, either. He just looked indifferent, and that didn't sit well with you at all.

"I...I overheard you and Mitch talking about your cat and his allergies, and I'd heard of this stuff that you can use on your pets to help people who are allergic to animals."

You'd gone out and bought it after leaving the studio the day you'd overheard the conversation between Mitch and Harry. It was your version of an olive branch, a way to express your guilt after taking Harry's friendship and throwing it in his face. You were his friend, and you wanted him to know it.

It probably seemed silly to hide behind a gift instead of saying something, considering your profession. But confrontation was almost as terrifying as love was, it was part of the reason why you only wrote songs and didn't perform them.

Harry scoffed, and it looked like he couldn't decide between laughing or rolling his eyes. "No, I know what this is, I'm asking why you gave it to me. Or not me, to my friend and then scurried back over here."

"I'm sorry about that, about everything," you said, shutting your laptop and shifting in your chair. "I was...I haven't been in the best place for some time now. It's not an excuse for how I treated you that day. You caught me in a bad moment and I lashed out."

"Thank you for apologizing," he said, his voice cool and even. You desperately wanted to know what he was thinking. What he saw when he looked at you. "Do you want to grab coffee? Maybe we can talk?"

The thought of being open and honest in the way that he was suggesting was daunting, but Harry deserved your honesty. "Sure. Let me just pack up my things."

Harry waited for you by the door as you packed your bag, jotting a couple notes down in your journal before putting it away. Your hands shook a little as you approached him, excitement swelling in your belly despite the anxiety you felt at the prospect of having to talk about things you preferred to leave in the recesses of your mind. But it felt good to see Harry again, to walk beside him and head to your favorite coffee house.

Neither of you said anything on the short walk over, and even after you placed your orders, you remained quiet. When your name was called out alongside Harry's to grab your drinks, you knew it was time to find a table, but you stayed rooted to your spot in front of the counter.

It was Larissa. Gavin's sister. She was standing next to the other end of the counter where baristas called out and dropped off orders. There was a moment when she didn't see you, and you thought you could make a break for it, even if that meant leaving Harry high and dry. But even if you wanted to, you were frozen in place, and when Larissa's gaze finally landed on you, you felt her glare even from a short distance.

"Y/n?" Harry asked, both drinks in his hands. "What's—"

"Y/n! How good to see you!"

Larissa's kind smile was anything but. You'd never trusted Gavin's sister. From the moment you met her, you knew to be wary of her, and after everything that happened, you were sure nothing good was going to come out of this interaction.

"H—Hi, Larissa. How are you?" you said, trying your best not to look at Harry, who had a quizzical look on his face.

"Oh, I'm just fabulous. I've just spent the last year healing my brother's broken heart, which you broke like it was nothing," Larissa said. "He's great, by the way. Finally came to his senses and realized what a God-awful mess you were. He realized all of us were better off without you."

Then, before you could even make sense of what was happening, a rush of cold washed over you. At first, you thought it was merely a visceral reaction to the confrontation, but Harry's, "What the fuck?" made you think twice.

Looking down, you realized Larissa had poured her drink on your sweater. Shock left you blinking at Gavin's sister, tears welling in your eyes. With shaking hands, you held the ruined sweater in your hands, then back to Larissa. "Wh—Why—"

"That's for my brother, slut."

"That's enough," Harry said, voice harder and colder than you'd ever heard him before. Even when he was upset with you at the studio, he never sounded this angry. Gently gripping your elbow, he turned you around. You hardly noticed the flashing of cameras aimed in your direction. All you could really process was Larissa's smirk and the iced coffee dripping off you onto the coffee house's floor.

When you were finally outside and a block down the road, Harry pulled you down an alley where you could have a moment of privacy. He pulled his sweater over his head and offered it to you in a bundle. You quietly murmured your thanks and took it from him, slipping it over your head. The plain black sweater was warm and smelled like him—like laundry detergent and expensive cologne. It would've been the kind of thing to flood your senses if shame hadn't currently encompassed every fiber of your being.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," you said when you felt like you could speak without your voice trembling.

"You don't have to apologize for what happened, Y/n," Harry said. He gently rested his hand on your shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I think so."

You couldn't look him in the eye, not while your iced coffee-ridden sweater was now ruining his, not while he kept looking at you with such pity. You could feel it down to your toes, and it made you want to curl up in a ball and never get out of bed. But Harry deserved an explanation. At the very least, he deserved to know who he associated himself with.

"I should explain—"

"You don't have to," Harry insisted.

"I want to," you said, believing the words as you said them. You weren't sure what you would've done if Harry hadn't been with you a few minutes ago. His brows were still furrowed with concern, his thumb rubbing circles into your shoulder. His sweater layered over yours created a pretty thick barrier, but you could feel his touch as if he was caressing your skin. "We can, um, we can go back to my place."

Thankfully, Harry didn't protest, just nodded quietly. The walk back to the studio was completely silent, leaving you alone with your thoughts until it was time to part ways. He got in his car and followed you home, silently following you up the steps to your apartment, a comfortable little one-bedroom twenty minutes from the studio.

Buddy was at the door when you unlocked it, tail wagging and tongue lolling to the side of his mouth happily. He greeted you first, then Harry, who he tried with all his might to knock over by getting up on his hind legs and resting on your guest. "Buddy! Down!" you hissed, frantically holding onto your dog's collar. Harry laughed and waived you off, surprising you by lifting Buddy up into his arms. Both boys were perfectly content, and the image of your friend holding your dog in your apartment was enough to lift your spirits the tiniest bit. A small smile crept onto your face, and Harry's grin widened when he saw it.

"Nice place," Harry commented, spinning around in a slow circle as he looked around.

"Thanks." Your apartment was small, but it was in a nice neighborhood and close to the beach. You made just enough in royalties to be comfortable in a little one bedroom. "Definitely different from my place in Nashville."

Harry nodded mildly before setting Buddy back down on the floor, admiring the colorful furniture that took up the space in your living room. Shivering a little, you looked down at yourself, reminded of your coffee-soaked clothes.

"There are treats in the pantry," you said, setting your things down on the kitchen counter and nodding to the pantry in question. "I'm just going to get changed so I can wash your sweater."

Harry nodded, but he seemed content to play with Buddy and look around your apartment, and your dog seemed perfectly happy to never walk on four legs ever again.

You tried to make quick work of changing, not wanting to keep Harry waiting too long. But you gave yourself a minute or two to calm down and process everything that had happened in the last hour. Even though it was horribly embarrassing, you were glad Harry had been there. He'd been a calming presence throughout, and you could only hope that would continue as you explained why you'd pushed him away.

*.*

"I...I didn't want to hurt you," you said, looking down at where your hands were knotted in your lap. "I just...I don't have a very good track record with relationships. Of any kind. I didn't want you to be one of the people I ruined."

Harry had been surprisingly quiet while you explained everything. And by everything, you meant everything. From Gavin to the Christmas party and what you'd heard to the would-be proposal. You told him about that song you'd written a couple weeks ago and how it brought all that emotion to the forefront of your memory and that it led you to push Harry away. He hadn't said much, asking you a few questions here and there; but for the most part, he let you speak uninterrupted, and you were surprised at how you continued to fill the silence, not once feeling uncomfortable. Perhaps a little ashamed after explaining how badly you'd hurt Gavin, but you never felt discomfort telling Harry any of it.

"Y/n, I—" Harry began to say before pausing. Looking up at him, you saw his brows furrowed, a look of consternation on his face. You waited for the blow, the one that eventually led him to leave you friendless once and for all. "I don't think you're a bad person for breaking up with him. I can't imagine that kind of hurt, sure, but if you didn't love him, you did the right thing. Do you—Do you seriously believe you're fucked in the head? Or that you ruin people?"

He was referencing the song you'd written, and you flushed bright red at the idea of him hearing more of the song than you would've liked. Shrugging, you gave him the truth. It didn't seem fit to lie when you'd bared your soul to him. "I don't know."

You could tell that answer didn't sit right with Harry. His frown deepened, and you desperately wanted to see him smile again. "Y/n, everyone makes mistakes in relationships, and even then I don't think you did anything wrong in that moment. Was it unfortunate timing? Maybe, but I don't think you should punish yourself for it anymore. In fact, I think what you did was brave."

"What?"

Smiling, Harry took your hand in his. It was warm, and his long fingers curled around your hand with ease. On any other day, you would've pulled back, but after sharing so much with him, this felt good. It felt right.

"I said what you did was brave," he said again. "You didn't love him, but you could've accepted the proposal and stayed with him. And then what? Leave him at the altar? Stay in a loveless marriage? It was hard, but you did the right thing for you and Gavin. I'm sure even he would come to understand that one day. Have you tried talking to him?"

You shook your head. "He hates me now."

"I don't think anyone could really hate you, Y/n," Harry said quietly, a blush crawling up his cheeks as if he hadn't meant to say that out loud. "I know you might disagree, but I think you might feel a lot better about all of this if you talked to him."

"His family—"

"Fuck his family. Gavin is a grown man who can think for himself," Harry said. "If he can't separate their wrong opinions from his own thoughts, then he's an idiot who never deserved you anyway."

You laughed a little at the first half of what he said. It felt nice to know that someone was on your side. Squeezing Harry's hand, you said, "Thank you."

"For what?"

"For listening, for being a good friend when I maybe didn't deserve it. Evan's the only person I talked to about this, and even then I didn't explain everything," you said. Evan had been on your side, but it didn't really count to you. He was your brother. He had to be on your side. "I just don't have the best track record when it comes to hurting people, you know?"

Your eyes had fallen to your hand, which was still curled around his, but to your surprise, Harry's other one lifted your chin to meet his gaze. With wide eyes, you looked at him, heart beating a little wilder in your chest when you saw the look on his face. His expression was wide open, earnest and endearing, and filled with...something you weren't ready to see yet. But it filled you with warmth, and for the first time in a long time, you really believed that you didn't have to be alone.

"I don't think you'll hurt me," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

His hand pushed a strand of your hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. The movement made your breath hitch, lips parting as you tried to decide what Harry was going to do next, what you wanted him to do next. He seemed like he was waiting for something too, and his gaze was finally too much, like he could see your soul and was currently shuffling through every little thing you longed for and were afraid of. It was heavy with emotion, and you weren't ready for it.

"You should probably get going soon," you said, rising, with great difficulty, to your feet and putting some distance between yourself and Harry. A frown on Harry's face appeared, and you quickly explained yourself. "Your cat. You probably should head home and feed her."

Before you and Harry sat down to talk about...everything, he briefly mentioned his new kitten, Sweet Pea. "It was the name she already had when I adopted her, and it didn't feel right to change it, though sometimes she's not so sweet." She was a fluffy Ragdoll cat that was apparently quite the diva, and Harry proudly showed off picture after picture, claiming he was already in love with his new furry companion.

Now though, Harry's eyes widened as if he hadn't even thought about his new kitten since being here. "Right. Good call. I'll see you tomorrow?"

You nodded as you watched him gather his things. "I'll return the sweater tomorrow."

"Don't worry about it," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand.

You walked Harry to the door to see him out. He crossed the threshold but paused before heading down to his car. You couldn't read the look that crossed his face, but his lingering gave you one last opportunity to take him all in. The muscles in his arms bulged beneath the white t-shirt he wore, and his hair had grown a tad longer since you'd spoken to him last, now curling around the nape of his neck and touching the collar of his shirt. Harry was taller than you, but not by much, though standing this close, it felt like he was a whole foot taller as you craned your neck to look at him.

Then, before you could ask if he'd forgotten something, he leaned forward. It took you a moment to realize what he'd done, but the lingering traces of heat on your forehead helped. He'd kissed you. On the forehead.

"See you tomorrow!"

Harry was gone in a flash, leaving you standing at the front door of your apartment with an open mouth as you tried to decide what his forehead kiss meant. To you, it felt sisterly, and you couldn't help the disappointment that swirled in your gut. You quickly pushed that feeling away, closing the door on whatever happened just then.

*.*

For the next few weeks, everything felt like it was back to normal. Better than normal, even. Despite the awkwardness you felt at having to see Harry after the odd forehead kiss, Harry acted like it never happened, which you were thankful for. You wouldn't have known what to say if he'd brought it up. Or tried to do it again.

But it became clear, despite the teeny tiny budding feelings you might have had for him, that he merely saw you as a friend. After your long talk with him at your apartment, Harry began showing you some of the work he'd been doing in his own studio down the hall from yours. It appeared he was getting over a break up too, though you never would've guessed by how cheerful he was most days. He still was, even as he explained a little about his most recent relationship, and you realized that while you hid your true emotions behind a wall, he might've been hiding behind his happy disposition. It made you want to dig deeper, to see what lay beneath all that "fineness."

As you spent more time with Harry, you also began hanging out with his friends. The first time you returned to his house for another game night, everyone seemed genuinely happy to see you, namely Sylvia. "I'm so glad you're spending more time with H," she'd said that night. "I love him to death but he's a clingy motherfucker when he's lonely."

That thought made you laugh. You recalled a conversation you'd had with Harry a while back when he'd said his friends were "disgustingly in love." He seemed like the kind of guy who loved love, but you also didn't want Sylvia, or any of his friends, to get the wrong idea.

"Oh I don't—I mean we're not—I don't think he sees me that way."

That wasn't how you wanted to explain yourself, seeing as you weren't even sure if you saw him that way. But Sylvia must have seen your flushed cheeks and understood your floundering because she smiled at you warmly.

"I think this calls for a girl's day. What do you think?"

"Oh. Um..." You didn't expect any of Harry's friends to want to hang out with you one on one, but you'd been leaning into trying new things lately. And girl's day? You grew up with three brothers, the last time you had anything resembling that was a tea party Hayden and Evan threw for you when you were six. "Sure. I could meet you for lunch this week if you'd like."

"Lunch sounds perfect."

A couple days passed until you had Buddy on his leash, walking down to the cafe you and Sylvia agreed on. You were a little nervous, but mostly excited. It had been a while since you'd hung out casually with a friend—you weren't counting Harry—and while you'd grown accustomed to the loneliness, you couldn't help but acknowledge that it felt nice to talk to someone other than your dog.

"Okay," Sylvia said once the waiter walked away with your orders. She'd held off asking about Harry, but now the time had come. "Hit me. What did Harold do?"

"Nothing," you said, perhaps a little too quickly. When Sylvia pinned you with a stare, you looked down at your glass of water. "He just...He gave me a kiss? On the forehead? And I don't know, it just read very...brotherly."

Sylvia sighed, which at the very least vindicated your feelings. It wasn't like you wanted anything more, but the whole thing left you feeling confused. A cheek kiss would've been easier to navigate, but the forehead? It left Y/n thinking about Harry more than she should've.

"Okay, I can see where you might be confused by that, but as someone with a brother, I can confidently say they don't do shit like that."

You weren't sure what you expected her to say, or what you even wanted her to say, but it wasn't that. Sylvia knew Harry fairly well, so it was safe to say that she was telling the truth, you just weren't ready to accept what she was implying.

"I do too, and I know the last thing I would expect from any of my brothers is a kiss on the forehead, but I don't know," you said, trying to remain as neutral as possible knowing Sylvia could report back to Harry. This whole thing was starting to feel very grade school-esque.

"Just know that Harry's a pretty open guy, but he's been burned in the past so he might be a little closed off or not be as inclined to make the first move," Sylvia said, though in some ways it sounded like a warning. "He's the greatest guy you'll ever meet, and whatever you decide, just be gentle, okay?"

It was hard to imagine someone as positive and happy as Harry having a dark past, but it sounded like there was a lot more than what met the eye as far as he was concerned. It was honestly a little comforting to know that he wasn't perfect. You were such a mess sometimes it seemed unfair that people wandered through life seemingly unscathed. You knew that was rarely ever the case, but sometimes it was hard to remember when guys like Harry walked around embracing life and had smiles for every occasion.

"I will," you promised, and you meant it. You were pretty sure nothing was going to happen between you and Harry, but you could appreciate Sylvia looking out for her friend. As nice as she had been to you so far, she was Harry's friend first. Her words made you wonder if you would ever have friends so fiercely loyal to you.

After that lunch with Sylvia, the weeks began to pass by in a blur. There were days when you saw Harry frequently, and then you wouldn't see him at all. He would show up at your studio to get coffee—at a new coffee shop, of course—you stopped by his to bring him and his friends baked goods, and sometimes you would end the night at one another's houses, a bottle of wine and takeout split between the two of you. You weren't dating, at least you wouldn't categorize whatever it was that you were doing as dating, but it felt nice to have someone in your life consistently again, and you liked that Harry was that person even more.

That didn't mean you couldn't read the signs. Sometimes Harry's gaze would linger when he thought you didn't notice, or he would sit a lot closer than was maybe necessary when you hung out with his friends. Sometimes his hand would brush yours as you watched a movie as if he wanted to hold it, and yours would brush back encourgingly, and then suddenly you were holding hands. To anyone else, it might have appeared confusing—in fact, Sylvia had vocalized her confusion over the non-relationship you and Harry were engaging in—but for you, not acknowledging what was happening and not putting any labels or definitions on this thing happening between the two of you was somehow easier to swallow. And since Harry seemed to be following your lead, he didn't say anything to object.

It was around Christmastime that things began to change. You'd spent your morning writing a song for an artist's Christmas album, a feat you'd managed to avoid in the past. But since you'd worked with the artist before and liked the vision she had for this album, you decided to at least try to write a holiday song. It wasn't necessarily that you disliked Christmas or the holidays, you were just indifferent to the season in question, and after everything that transpired two years ago now, you just never felt like celebrating much.

Harry Styles, however, was a huge fan of Christmas. his studio was decked out with lights and garlands, he got him and Sweet Pea matching sweaters, which you weren't entirely sure if he knitted or not, and he'd been bugging you since Thanksgiving to come over to decorate cookies. He'd finally worn you down and you were going over later tonight, but not before putting in a couple hours at the studio, which turned into sitting in on one of Harry's sessions.

It didn't happen often, but you did like seeing the team approach to writing songs as opposed to your usual solitary method. For the most part, you watched as Harry bounced ideas off his friends, observing as they focused on one chord progression or verse until something else stole their attention away. It was a bit chaotic, but everyone in the room seemed to be having fun.

It was in the middle of a heated debate between another fun, upbeat song or beginning to work on a ballad when the melody came to you. It was just piano chords, and had you been in your own studio, you would've immediately sat down to play it and see where it went. But this wasn't your studio, and it wasn't your session, and while you knew no one would've minded hearing your input, you felt nervous all of a sudden, self-conscious.

So instead, you pulled some blank sheet music out and began to scribble, writing as quickly as possible before the melody escaped you. The melody had taken up so much space in your head that everything else faded away. You envisioned arrangements, themes, a line or two sprouting as you wrote down the next note. Something sad and somber, the exact opposite of what Harry had been pushing for since he entered the studio.

"What am I now?" you wrote on the back of the sheet music. You didn't know how it would fit, but it would. You could tinker with the words later, so long as all your thoughts were written down somewhere, you would find a way to make it happen.

"What are you working on over there?"

Harry was suddenly at your side, and when he peeked over your shoulder, you didn't try to hide your frenzied notes. You handed them over, unsure if he even read sheet music. "It was just a thought I had. I can play it for you if you'd like?"

"Please," Harry said, gesturing to the piano in the corner of the room. It was then that you realized that everyone else had left the room at some point or another. At your questioning glance, Harry explained. "Ten minute break, but it felt like you were onto something...And I figured you'd be more willing to share if it wasn't in front of a group."

"Thank you," you said, those pesky butterflies swirling around in your stomach. They seemed to appear any time Harry so much as smiled at you. "It's just a melody, really, but maybe you can use it for something.

You sat down at the piano, eyes widening when Harry sat down beside you. Shaking it off, you focused on the piano, the keys cool and smooth to the touch, a familiar feeling that felt nice among such a different work setting. You explained your thought process to Harry a little bit, telling him the direction you hoped the song would go in and possible arrangements for it and whatnot. Harry, who apparently knew you better than you thought he did, nudged you with his elbow and encouraged you to play, knowing that you were stalling.

It wasn't that you were unsure of yourself or your talent. You knew you were good at what you did. You'd collaborated on multiple albums and worked with many well-known artists and bands, or artists who were just breaking out onto the scene and did so with the help of your songwriting. The difference here was that you normally didn't play an idea for anyone until it was fully realized. You typically sent over demos and typed up lyrics, and Harry would be one of the first to hear something that you'd only just come up with. Besides Buddy, but he didn't really count.

Taking a deep breath, you began to play, letting the chords you'd only just come up with pull your focus. After having played through it a couple times, you looked over at Harry, who had a faraway look in his eyes, an idea of his own forming in his head, perhaps.

"It's fairly simple, but I think that's what's rather beautiful about it," you said while still playing. "Sometimes you don't need much to get a response from someone, and I think a melody like this really allows an artist to shine, you know? Whether that's through their lyrics, or their vocal range, or both. And obviously it can be changed to a different key, this is just the one I wrote down, but...yeah, that's what I've got."

You finally stopped playing to hear Harry's opinion, though you wished you hadn't. Now your hands didn't really know what to do, and it took a lot of effort to keep them knotted together in your lap. Harry still looked pensive, as if he hadn't even heard your rambling, though now you were even more curious to know what he thought.

"Harry?"

Blinking, Harry turned toward you, his knee bumping against yours on the piano bench. His eyes cleared up as he remembered he wasn't alone in the studio. "Hm? Sorry, just thinking."

Offering him your pen and a fresh page in your journal, you said, "Did you maybe want to write it down?"

After that, you and Harry wrote hundreds of songs together. At least it felt like a hundred songs. Whether it was in the studio, or at each other's homes—mainly his because he had a home studio and a guest room for when sessions went too long—the two of you were almost always writing together. It wasn't always for his album, either. Sometimes Harry would help you with projects you were working on for other artists, or you would just write songs for the sake of writing them.

And it just worked. It felt like you and Harry just clicked. He was able to vocalize what you were trying to say to his producer, and you knew what he was thinking before he said it or the sound he was going for based off a couple descriptors. You'd never known someone so intimately before, or understood them so completely, Not even Gavin.

Harry was witty and smart and kind and genuine. He felt things deeply, and kept a lot of his darkest secrets and deepest insecurities incredibly close to his chest. You realized at some point that he was even more guarded than you in some ways. As you wrote together more and more, you obviously realized that there was more than met the eye when it came to your friend, but outside of songwriting, he wouldn't divulge much. He'd been through a breakup recently, that much you could tell, and while you wanted to know more, you respected his privacy and the desire to leave the past exactly where it was. Unless it came to the music, of course.

"So...you're what? Friends without all the benefits?" Sylvia asked you.

You met with her pretty regularly now for lunch during the week. Harry wasn't typically the topic of conversation, but on this occasion, Sylvia was giving you the third degree.

"We're co-workers. And friends," you added as an afterthought. Saying you were merely co-workers didn't seem right to you anymore, and you knew Harry would be upset if you thought otherwise. "I don't know what other benefits I would need outside of his companionship."

"Bull. Shit." Sylvia pinned you with a stare that made you blush. "Last weekend he had you practically sitting in his lap, and you're trying to tell me nothing's going on?"

"Not really. I don't think either of us are in a place to be in a relationship right now." It was the same line you fed to Andrew last week when you went to see one of his games. He thankfully bought it, or maybe he was just used to you keeping your love life to yourself, but Sylvia wasn't having it.

"What makes you say that?"

You shrugged. "I mean I'm definitely not, and I can just tell he's not there yet either. I mean, obviously, I've learned about his most recent relationship by working with him, but outside of that, he doesn't tell me anything. I don't even know her name."

You weren't offended that Harry didn't want to share about his ex. You wouldn't have told him about Gavin if you hadn't been put in that particular situation. But you understood better than most about that kind of pain. Maybe he wasn't ready. Maybe his feelings were getting all jumbled up between the past and the present. Or maybe he just didn't like you that way. The last theory hurt more than you cared to admit, but you were more scared of another potential relationship going up in flames than finding out the truth, so you decided ignorance really was bliss.

Sylvia nodded, understanding. You realized she must've known his ex, though you didn't ask for details. That was Harry's story to tell, not hers, and you were pretty sure Sylvia would say the same if you did ask. "I guess that's fair. But so, you're just...friends who kiss occasionally?"

You nearly choked on your sip of water. "What? No! Of course not. We don't—We—"

"Let me save you the struggle of coming up with an unconvincing lie," Sylvia said. "I've seen you."

"When?"

"Christmas party," she said, raising one finger as if she was about to list a few occurences.

"That was mistletoe. It was innocent," you said with a dismissive wave of your hand, even though said hand was suddenly clammy.

"New Year's."

"Everyone kisses at the end of the countdown!"

"At game night when he kissed your neck?"

"Why are you paying that close attention to my neck?"

"And," Slyvia said, pointedly ignoring your last remark. "I have it on good authority that Harry kissed you at the studio last week. Don't try to hide it, Y/n."

Sighing, you said, "So what's your point, exactly?"

"My point is that y'all are just pretending you're not in a relationship when you are!" she said, looking at you as if you had two heads. "Look, it's clear you've been through some shit and Harry has too, I won't deny that. But are you really going to put your happiness on the back burner because of it?"

Your cheeks burned at having been caught. It wasn't like you'd planned to kiss Harry any of those times. Each kiss came as a surprise, leaving you more and more breathless than the last and hopeful for another. What Sylvia didn't know was that you and Harry had kissed a lot more than the handful that she'd rattled off. Sometimes when it was late and you were over at his house working, he'd get this look in his eyes that would turn your whole body molten. He'd lean in close, nudge your nose with his, and then his lips were on yours and time suddenly didn't exist.

You liked kissing Harry. A lot. You liked the way his fingers gingerly held your jaw, you liked that kissing him gave you free rein to touch him wherever you wanted—his hair, his arms, beneath his shirt. Sometimes it felt like you couldn't get enough, but it always ended with one of you pulling away under the guise that it was getting late. Your lips would tingle long after, and you'd text Harry late at night when you should've been asleep, or he would call to talk about whatever he was thinking.

To anyone else, it wouldn't make sense, but it made sense to you and Harry. There was no pressure to be more, no urgency to define what you were doing, and that seemed to work for both of you.

"I'm perfectly happy right now," you said, and you were.

It had been a long time since you'd felt this content. Your breakup with Gavin left you feeling guilty and ashamed. And deep down, you knew you already felt more for Harry than you did for your ex, and that made you feel horrible too. Part of you still felt you were being greedy by trying to be this happy, that you should just take what you were given and try not to press your luck.

Sylvia took you by surprise by taking your hand. Her fingers were warm and reassuring, just as her eyes were when you finally met her gaze. It was safe to say now that she was your friend. She'd come over to your house multiple times for wine and movie nights, you went out to bars together, you'd met her partner, who was the absolute sweetest person on the planet. You valued Sylvia's friendship, and you valued her as a person. You didn't want to lose her if things with Harry progressed and fizzled out.

"It's okay to want more, Y/n," she said gently.

It was like she saw through all the bullshit and realized what you were really scared of. Harry was the only person who knew everything regarding your past relationship, but you told Sylvia bits and pieces. When you'd told her that you broke up with Gavin the night he wanted to propose, she didn't judge you, or ask why you'd throw away a perfectly good relationship. She was empathetic, and said she was sorry you had to go through that. It felt good to confide in someone who was willing to hear your side of the story, to have them realize if you could've loved Gavin the way he loved you, you would've.

"Maybe," you said. "But like I said, I'm not the only one who has shit to work through."

Sylvia nodded, letting the subject drop. But the words she'd said, It's okay to want more, needled at your brain the rest of the day.

*.*

"You should come with me."

You had been watching Sweet Pea doze contentedly on top of Buddy, who was curled in a ball on his dog bed. The two of them were an unlikely pair, but they'd gotten along great the first time they were introduced, and now you found it adorable any time they napped together.

Harry's voice was low and scratchy in your ear, as if he wasn't too far off from sleep himself. You were huddled together under a blanket on your couch, watching the credits roll on the second movie of the night, but you hadn't paid much attention to anything since the moment Harry pulled you to his chest and tucked his chin in the crook of your neck, peppering your skin with kisses as his thumbs rubbed circles beneath your shirt.

"What?" you asked, not having really heard him. It seemed impossible, but every day his touch became more and more dizzying.

"To Japan. You should come with me," he said. "It would be like a writing retreat."

Harry had mentioned his impromptu trip to Japan over dinner. He seemed excited about it, of getting out of town for a little while and just being alone with his thoughts. Those were his words, though now he was inviting you along.

"I don't even have a passport," you said, a non-answer, as Harry would call it.

"We'll get you one," he said. "Don't you think it would be fun to explore a new city together? Just the two of us?"

"W—What about Buddy?"

"Buddy can come to," Harry said, like it was all just so easy.

You thought back to your conversation with Sylvia a week ago. It's okay to want more, she'd said. At the time, you were content with this thing you and Harry were doing. It was simple and easy and pressure-free. A couple weeks later her words still nagged you. You hadn't mentioned wanting more to Harry, but this was different. This was...big. Appearing nonchalant didn't make it so.

"What are we?" you found yourself asking, hating how cliche the question was, even if you did need the answer all of a sudden.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, but you knew he was too smart to not understand.

Still, you sat up and faced him, forcing him to sit on the other side of the couch to have a proper conversation. "I meant exactly what I said, H. What—What are we doing here exactly?"

Harry's face flushed, the muscles in his arm flexing as he rubbed his neck. "I...I don't know. I thought we were okay with not really defining it."

Not defining it, or not talking about it? you thought, even though that wasn't really fair. You were just as content not to ask as he was until now. Or a few weeks ago, you couldn't exactly tell when you began to want more, or when wanting more stopped scaring you.

"I know, but now you're asking me to drop everything and fly to Japan for...for how long exactly?"

Harry shrugged, and your jaw ticked. "A couple months?"

"A couple months," you repeated, trying to align your thoughts. All you could hear though was, It's okay to want more. Taking a deep breath, you said, "I think...I think if I'm going to follow someone across the world for a couple months, I would like a definition about what it is we're doing."

"It's a writing retreat, Y/n. We would be working on songs. Just like we've always done."

You weren't sure when you became the brave one. Perhaps it was your conversation with Sylvia bolstering your confidence, or maybe it was Harry's reluctance to acknowledge the situation at hand, you weren't sure, but his reply wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

"I'd have to find my own hotel," you said. "Or an apartment to rent I guess."

"You'd stay with me obviously," Harry said, and you had to resist the urge to take him by the shoulders and shake him until he started seeing your perspective.

"Co-workers don't live together, H."

"But we're not just co-workers, Y/n. We're—"

Your brows raised, encouraging him to finish, but he ended up shaking his head. Running a tired hand over his face, he said, "I understand what you mean, but I can't...I can't give that to you right now."

You nodded, then stood up. "And I can't go to Japan without it."

It hurt, but at least he was being upfront about how he felt. It wasn't really fair of you to ask for more when both of you had been content to keep things simple. But somewhere down the line, you realized you liked Harry. A lot. You were okay with leaving your history with Gavin in the past, and you wanted to look to the future now. You'd thought that the future might include a relationship with Harry, but he wasn't ready, and you weren't sure if you wanted to wait. So much of the last two years had been waiting, hiding. Now you needed more. You craved it.

You felt like you were in some kind of alternate universe. One where Harry was scared and unsure of himself and unable to admit to what he wanted. You wanted more, and you weren't going to settle for anything less. You wanted to be more than his friend whom he kissed sometimes, you wanted to hear his scratchy voice as he woke up beside you, and you knew he did too, but something was holding him back. You'd spent too much time hiding from life and love to hide with him some more. Part of you wanted to, just because it was Harry, and you cared about him a lot, but a bigger part of you knew what you deserved, and it was okay to acknowledge that.

"I understand," he said, standing up with you.

Both of you were quiet as he gathered his things. You watched his broad shoulders shrug into his coat, the lean frame of his body bend down to put Sweet Pea in her little carrier. You felt the loss of him already, and he hadn't even gone yet, but you could feel the wall going up between the two of you. Both of you were guarded in your own ways, and both of you had been as vulnerable as you could be, but it wasn't enough.

"When are you planning on leaving?" you asked as you walked him to the door.

"Couple weeks," he said. "Just have to get the logistics figured out."

Nodding, you stepped into his offered embrace, letting yourself inhale the scent of his cologne and feel his arms around you for the last time for a while. His nose bumped yours in a move that was so familiar it made your heart squeeze. You weren't sure how long you stood like that, kissing until you couldn't breathe, it was only until Buddy's wet nose nudged the two of you apart that you finally stepped away from him. Harry bent down to scratch your dog's head and let him lick his cheek a few times before straightening back up. He was about to turn and leave when you called his name.

"I don't know what happened," you said, swallowing around the lump in your throat. "If you did something or if she did something to make you so...closed off, and from one heavily guarded person to another, I'm sorry that it happened and that it made you this way. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for in Japan."

Harry grinned, but it wasn't wide enough to show his dimples. Without saying a word, he left, head bent as he walked down the hall, taking a piece of you with him.

Buddy nudged your leg, pulling away from the hall Harry already disappeared down. Your dog's eyes were big and curious and completely unaware of what was wrong, which brought a watery smile to your face. "Come on, bubba. Let's get ready for bed."

[liyawritesss]

ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ

Characters: Spider-Verse!Earth-42!Miles Morales [The Prowler] x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 1.9k

Synopsis: Miles tells his Uncle Aaron the real reason why he’ll always answer his phone for you.

Warnings: Cursing, no usage of [y/n] or second person perspective, brief mention of potential gun usage, old school gang terms (Aaron refers to a gun as a 'pole') I envisioned a late teen 42!Miles so he’s around 17-18 here, but still keep it cute this is lil cuz we talkin’ bout here!!!

A/N: I know I said that the previous fic would more than likely be my only attempt at 42!Miles but the ugly ass nigga is growing on me so…here yall go i guess

Song Suggestions: “So Into You” (Remix) by Sydney Renae; “LORD FORGIVE ME” by Tobe Nwigwe ft. Fat Nwigwe & Pharrell; “Run Tha Streetz” by Tupac, Storm, Mutah, Michel’le

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @movie-enthusiast22 @famedrs-blog @briology @honeybleed @pnkweb

Sign Up For My Taglist Here!

It went without saying that if it didn’t pertain to family or business, Aaron wasn’t quite fond of the use of phones.

He had a real old school view on them; didn’t like how kids these days were always stuck nose deep into the devices. Of course, he came from a generation where a phone’s only use was to contact another person. He never got into the hype of the latest iPhones, nor did he understand the need for five different cameras attached to the device. The only benefit he saw with the rectangular device was that it made communication more prompt and precise (though he’d never admit that he appreciated being able to play any games he wanted, at his disposal, at any time he wished).

So, naturally, when Miles became old enough to engage in his ‘business’, the one rule Aaron posed that didn’t pertain to the ‘game’ was that him being on his phone was an absolute no-go.

“I ain’t got time for you to be distracted by that thing,” he’d said the very first night Aaron trusted the younger to bring him along, “if you gon’ be in, I need you to be all the way in. No half-assin’ this shit, you hear?”

And of course, Miles agreed, no matter how insufferable the first few weeks of patrol were when Aaron literally locked his cellular device in a safe back at the workshop. While it served to pry the connection the fifteen year old had with the device at the time, it was also his way of teaching Miles to not rely on the device for communication, prompting Miles to fortify new avenues of such. Aaron had a genius nephew, after all, and expected nothing less from the person who would soon take up his mantle as The Prowler.

Though, Aaron started to notice a shift in the practice behavior a few months ago, and it made him wonder had his teachings begun to fall short, even after a few years of the settled routine.

He’d notice the flexing of the younger’s arm whenever the faint buzz from the vibration of Miles’ phone sounded, no doubt squeezing the device in his pocket with his hand.

Aaron also was not ignorant to Miles’ dipping off to the side to answer a quick call in hushed tones, and the words used to address the other person on the line made it clear to the older man that it wasn’t Rio calling him, and it piqued Aaron’s curiosity even more.

Though, Aaron could never say anything, since Miles was sure to put his phone on do not disturb before heading out into the night, and the calls always remained under a minute or two, not taking too much time away from their very serious business. He found himself frustrated because Aaron couldn’t be mad at him for being responsible for his phone usage, despite his own feelings towards the usage of such devices. Yet, it irked him all the same when Miles would take a peek at his phone during a moment of down time, or when he’d caught the boy staring at his messages a couple of times during a debriefing session.

“Aye, c’mon man,” Aaron finally grumbles out one night, sucking his teeth at the sight of Miles tapping away on the brightly lit screen close to his face, illuminating his melanated features, “I need you outta that shit, we got work to do.”

“A’ight, a’ight,” says the younger as he finishes off a text, pocketing his phone and brushing past Aaron briskly, “just had to answer my girl real quick. I’m off it.”

“You better be,” Aaron scolds, “we need you at a’hunnid tonight, Miles. No excuses.”

Though Aaron wasn’t about to let Miles’ admission slip under the radar, the current task at hand was much more pressing than the revelation that his nephew was seeing someone. He’d have to play the father figure role after tonight's mission was complete.

It’s when the deepest shade of midnight blue begins to fade into faint purple hues that Aaron is able to bring up the conversation once again. He tries to make it light, but over the years, his smooth talk has become just as rustic as his Prowler skills. “I’m gon’ have to bring the safe out again if I keep seein’ that phone, Miles.”

The echo of the younger sucking his teeth in annoyance doesn’t fly past Aaron’s head. It’s the response he expected from his nephew. He turns around from his work desk to face the younger, leaning against one of the many concrete pillars that keep the building intact.

“I’m serious, boy,” Aaron asserts, “you been on that phone a lil’ too much lately, man. I’on like it.”

Miles scratches the side of his face; he knows he doesn’t have much of a good excuse to use as to why his eyes have been more on his phone as of late. Well, not an excuse Aaron would find plausible anyway.

“A’ight, Unc. I’ll chill.”

It’s not the exact response that Aaron expects, but if Miles says that he’ll watch his phone activity, the older believes him. The younger has no reason to lie to him, anyway.

A beat passes before Aaron starts again, crossing to the middle of the room where the large, red punching bag.

“So, is she a good distraction,” he muses with a knowing look, “or do I gotta be worried that she gon’ take your head out the game?”

The younger pauses for a second, braids dancing along his shoulder. Then, a lopsided grin spreads across his lips as his head tilts to the side, his eyes wandering. Aaron knows that kind of look. It’s the look of a boy high on love, and from the way Miles fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck, Aaron can deduct that it’s that good loving, too. The kind of loving that Rio gave Jefferson, and it stole the late brother’s heart. It warms his heart to see his nephew sport a look that someone his age should.

“She’s good.” Miles says. “She’s…real good, Tio. Too good, probably.”

Aaron hums in response, the sound coming from the depths of his throat as he pauses, taking in a breath. “Do she know?”

It’s a hard question to ask; Aaron doesn’t want to blow his nephew’s high, but it’s a necessary one to ask. For the safety of all parties involved.

Miles’ smile falters in the slightest, teeth tugging at his bottom lip as his eyes cast downward.

“She know I do shit on the low. Not…all this, though.” And from the tone in Miles’ voice, he, too, knows that it’s better this way.

The older begins to walk towards the stairs to exit the workshop building, gesturing to Miles to follow, “Good.”

Aaron thinks back to when he first remembers the diversion of behavior started. Although it wasn’t and never became aggressive, it started with Miles casually peeking at his phone every now and then, maybe once or twice throughout the whole night the two were set together. He puts two and two together, his head nodding to the conclusion he’d drawn.

“So it’s her you be textin’?” Aaron asks, descending the stairs.

The younger nods, following in tow, “Just lettin’ her know that I’ma be out and can’t answer the phone, shit like that.”

“And when she do call?”

A light, dry chuckle escapes Miles’ lips at the question. “She just be askin’ me shit.”

“Shit like what?” Aaron muses, twisting the knob to the door leading outside, opening it to reveal purple hues slowly fading into peach in the sky. “What color nails for her to get? Password to the Netflix?”

They get to the car, but the silence that takes place during the short time it takes to approach the older’s vehicle answers his own question before Miles does.

“Yeah, actually,” the younger voice, arms folding atop the car roof, leaning against the sleek black metal as he looks at his uncle, “and the color for her peek-a-boo braids; and if it’s okay if she eats my leftover takeout; and if I can hang up her wall art thingy when I come by-”

“-so what you’re saying is, she’s clingy?” The older’s eyebrows furrow in amusement and slight confusion - the way Miles speaks about the isolated experiences has him questioning what kind of girl his nephew was actually dating.

“You know what’s crazy, though, Tio?” The younger poses, pulling the handle to the passenger car door when he hears the click, signifying Aaron unlocking the vehicle finally. “She’s not clingy like that; it’s somethin’ else.”

“You’re losin’ me, kid.” The older chuckles, closing his door once he’s settled inside the driver's seat.

Miles sucks his teeth, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in thought, and Aaron can tell that the younger is trying to find the right words to distinguish what he means.

“I hear guys say that shit like that is annoying,” Miles begins, tugging at the hem of his shirt to pull it down from riding up his toned stomach, “but it ain’t like that to me. She asks me all these things; think maybe it’s because she feels safe enough to ask them of me. And if she feel like I got the answers for her, then-”

The younger stops mid-sentence, contemplating how to proceed with his explanation. Yet, Aaron is all ears, listening intently. Quite frankly, it’s the most he’s heard Miles talk about anything in a long time - his rambling reminds him of the old Miles that once was, before the unfortunate.

Then, the younger takes a deep breath, reclines back into his seat, legs spread in the slightest for comfortability, his hands running the length of his thighs, “Ionno, Unc. Makes me feel good, I guess.”

And in that moment, Aaron’s vision blurs for a second. He can’t tell if it’s Miles sitting in the passenger seat, or if it’s his late brother. Perhaps it's the glare of the sun in his eyes…perhaps it’s Aaron actually seeing the soul of Jefferson shine through his son in the early morning sunlight that dances across his melanated skin.

A hum passes through the older’s throat as he starts the car up, the sound of the engine revving through the silence that settled within the car. Aaron clears his throat before speaking again, “I’ma tell you what I told your pops about your moms, kid.”

Miles turns his head from the window to face his uncle, who shifts the car from parked to drive, hand sitting at the top of the steering wheel. 

“If she make you feel good, the kinda good you know you can’t get anywhere else, and if she make you feel like a man; you keep her close.” Aaron hums. His lips tug upwards when the younger gives a subtle nod in return.

“I’m serious now, Miles. Don’t be like yo’ daddy.” Aaron reiterates as he pulls his foot off the brakes, turning the steering wheel and pressing down on the gas to drive out of the parking lot. “Dumbass almost lost ya moms cuz he ain’t wanna listen-”

“A’ight, a’ight, I got you,” the younger replies, “I’on think she goin’ anywhere no way, though.”

“Good.” Aaron affirms. “If she know of the kinda game you in, then she need to know how to work somethin’, too. Make sure she can hold you down properly.”

“I’on know about that, Unc,” Miles replies, “she too much of a good girl for that.”

“Shit, good girls work the best poles, boy. Don’t get the game twisted.”

“Unc, no one says ‘poles’ in reference to guns anymore.” The younger says through a chuckle as the two drive off down the street, the purples in the sky now fading into a pretty golden hue that casts over the city that never sleeps.

[trulyhblue]

please can we get a caitlin foord fic 🙏

Bug and Bingo

Caitlin Foord x Daughter! Child! Reader, Lauren Hemp x Child! Reader, AWFC + CITY x Child! Reader.

Warnings: pure fluff, coarse language, bit long for what I hoped.

A/N — was feeling cute. So sorry if you don't understand what Bluey is. Also, not really based on the most recent match as there are several changes.

__________________________

You were waiting for your mama to finish the bunny loops on her shoelaces, humming the Bluey theme song with your Bingo toy in one hand and Gunnersauris in the other.

You swung your legs from your mama’s cubby, where your coat was pooled around your waist. Auntie Stephy was talking to Beth, and Auntie Lani wasn't in the Changing Rooms, even though she was here, playing today.

Your mama told you that Auntie Lani was playing for the other team, and it wasn't the same as when you were back with all of your other Aunties. It was the same as when mama versed Macca and Mini, and Sammy — but Sammy was watching Macca and Mini’s game instead of playing, which you aren't quite sure you understand.

Sammy’s wife-but-not-girlfriend — you couldn't remember the name — Kristie also played for West Ham, but she only picks you up when you're running away from Sammy trying to tickle your tummy.

You also remember seeing Harper last week, showing her your Bingo toy, and playing hot potato with her in the stands. You love Harper, she is your only friend who knows about Bluey, and she's Australian like you. In Kindergarten, you and Harper are the only ones who speak the way you do. Your mama always asked you whether your classmates would tease you, but Harper would poke her tongue out at them, and you’d ignore them and play with Harper instead.

Your Gunnersauris was lying next to your coat, and your Bingo toy was snuggled under your arm. You were wearing your mama’s Tillie’s jersey because you liked it more than the one she was wearing now. Your Auntie Ky would call the other jersey the Cotton Candy Jersey, and you liked Cotton Candy, so you wore that Jersey when everyone else was. You liked wearing your mama’s jersey because it had your last name on the back too, and number nine was your favourite number so that made it the best. Mama said you were born on the ninth of September, which is the ninth month, so you are very special.

But the most special thing about today was that you were in charge of the Lolly Jar.

“Mama, when we going?” You asked, patting Bingo’s head, hoping she was comfortable where she was. You were slouching against the wall, watching Mama pull up her socks over her shin pads.

She looked up at you and smiled, using her thumb to graze your cheek. “Few minutes, Bug, you excited?”

You nodded your head. “Wanna see Auntie Lani and Mary. Will they sit with me with the Lolly Jar?”

“No, Bug, they sit with the other City girls.” Mama picked you up, propping you onto her hip, jutting you slightly. “But you're sitting with Stephy for the first half, then Vivid and Laura when Stephy comes on. But if I let you take care of the Lolly Jar, you've got to share, okay?”

You weren't too keen on sharing your lollies, especially your strawberry and cream ones, but Laura liked the Sour candy that was too hard for your teeth, and Vivi said that she thinks Snoep is bad for your teeth, so you think you’ll survive.

“Mama want a Lolly?” You asked, motioning towards the jar filled with lollies of all sorts.

“No, thank you, Bub.” Mama laughs, kissing your cheeks and tucking away your fly-away hairs.

“Can I have a lolly, Bug?” Your little body turned to face the voice.

Ky Ky was walking towards you with a warm grin, her hand coming up to fiddle with your collar. You giggled when her finger came in contact with your neck, sending giggles to echo through the room.

“Ky ky no manners.” You spoke, nuzzling your head further into Mama’s neck. Your mama laughed at Kyra’s dejected countenance.

“Yes, you're right,” The younger Aussie player admitted, shaking her head and pretending to act frustrated at herself for forgetting such a thing.

You, however, didn't catch onto her sarcasm, feeling a wave of empathy surging over you. You pulled your arms away from Mama, reaching out and whining for Ky Ky to hold you instead. Your mama handled her over, and you gripped the back of Kyra’s shirt as she danced with you in her arms.

“Ky Ky ‘gonna score today?” You asked, feeling the nip of the cool air shiver down your spine as the girls started exiting into the tunnel.

“I’ll try my best for you, Bub. You've just got to cheer extra loud for me, deal?” Ky held you impossibly close to her chest, her arm protecting you from feeling flimsy, and her body cradling the front half of your body from the cold.

“Will give you extra lollies and cuddles if you do.” You could see Leah at the front of the line with her big red ribbon around her arm, though Mama had told you it was an armband. You told your mama that they should do ribbons instead, hoping she could change it soon because ribbons were very pretty.

You had two yellow ribbons in each of your pigtails, which Lessi had done for you on the bus ride. Lessi was the best cuddle buddy, after Mama and Ky. She would rub and scratch your back with her nails gently, and let you trace her tattoos on her hands. Lessi was your favourite cuddle buddy, even if she wasn't the best. She was always the one you fell asleep on, and she’d always share her blanket with you when you sat next to her on the bench.

“If you don't score, I’ll just give you cuddles.” You muttered, readjusting your position in Kyra’s arms. She helped you by lifting you just above her hip, your legs locked around her waist. “Cuddles are never not allowed.”

“That's very sweet, Bub, thank you.”

“That's okay. Love you, Ky Ky.” You added, not noticing your Mama coming up behind you.

“Hey, Bub, time to put on your coat.” She said, slowly threading your small arms through the holes of the thick fabric. While your body moved without fuss, you made sure to whine a little loudly and huff to show how much you didn't like wearing your coat.

The people who loved your mama — not as much as you — and watched her play with her teammates weren't always allowed to see you. The people in the stands would inevitably catch sight of your chubby cheeks and small figure huddled in a mound of warm clothes and cuddles, whether that be during the lineup or when you were sitting on the bench.

Mama didn't like people seeing your face on their phones. She told you that cameras could cause you to feel big girl emotions, and while you were a big girl, Mama always tried her best to keep you discreet.

You didn't care all that much. Lessi would let you take funny videos with filters on your face when you talk with her on long bus rides. Stephy and Bethy would do dancing videos with you, which you love. So overall, you weren't too concerned with missing out on all that much.

But sometimes you felt like you wanted to be normal. You were cold, obviously, and the coat would warm you up, but you knew your mama wanted you to put it on for a different reason.

“Wanna stay with Ky for standing, Mama. Don't want the coat.”

Kyra acted like she had zoned out of the conversation, not sure how to manage a discussion that sounded so innocent, but had a deeper meaning behind it.

“As long as Kyra’s okay with it then you can.” Caitlin took your hand, squeezing it and zipping up your coat. “But you need to keep this on or else you’ll get a stuffy nose and a sore throat.”

“Still want my Lolly Jar.” You mumbled, not entirely content with the defeat in your situation.

Your Mama nodded, swiping your cheek. “Auntie Steph has got it in her lap for when you sit with her, alright?”

While you weren't awfully content with her decision, you sulked as you let the sleeves cover your body, hearing the zip dousing your body in a new-found warmth. You would never admit that the sensation was relieving, but you chose to snuggle back into Kyra’s chest when both teams started walking out into the crisp air.

There were a few smiles exchanged between the teams, but you understood that they both wanted to win and have the ball more than the other. Your yellow jersey stuck out under your coat, your pigtails and their bright yellow ribbons drawing more attention to yourself as usual. Your face was clasped into Ky’s neck, her body bobbing you up and down in swift motions. The crowd was beaming in excitement as everyone shook hands. You were too busy playing with the hem of Kyra’s jersey to notice the people rubbing your back and smiling.

“Cuddles now?” You asked your Ky Ky, prodding to the comfy chairs where Steph, and Kim were chatting in hushed whispers. Wally and Cloé were laughing with Stina and Laia, but you couldn't find your Auntie Vivi anywhere.

“I'm playing with your mama, Bug,” Ky spoke, rubbing your back as the two of you trudged over to the bench. “You're gonna show everyone your Lollies, aren't you? Mama said Stephy has the jar.”

You knew that Mama only gave you your lolly jar when you were feeling restless before a game. Sometimes, you just want to be attached to someone, whether that be Mama, Ky, or especially Vivi. You weren't used to not having your Auntie by your side during matches. When your Aunties had sore knees, you would sit with them in the crowd, showing them Bingo and bouncing ecstatically in your seat when they’d play games with you.

Bethy always let you swing your legs, and Lau would squish your cheeks and play Bingo games with you. Lau would make you giggle when Lee was talking about the game, and you’d clamour into the blonde’s lap and babble on about how she was a nervous Nelly, cause that's what your Mama calls you when you go to school sometimes.

Bethy wouldn't always let you have your Lolly jar, even though your Mama gave it to you. She said that it made you wiggle more and wiggles were hard to get rid of. But Vivi would always slip you some strawberry and cream lollies when Bethy wasn't looking. She’d make sure you always had a handful of your favourites when Beth was Roo immersed in the game.

You loved your Vivi.

It wasn't too bad when Bethy left, because you still had Vivi, Lee, and Lau, but then Vivi left, and now Lee, and so Lau sits in the stands with other people, and Mama doesn't want to leave Laura to take of you by herself, especially when her knee was only just mending fully.

But Vivi must've hurt her knee again because you saw her and Lau sitting in the stands without you.

It made you even more restless knowing that neither Ky nor Viv was there to play with you. You loved all of your Aunties, but some of them didn't have cuddles like Ky.

“Hello, Bug!” You heard your Auntie Stephy say. Kyra was careful in sparing the last of your affection, kneeling in front of Steph and peeling you off her slowly.

You didn't answer your Aunt, feeling what your mama called big girl feelings when Kyra kissed your forehead and ran towards the team. You latched onto Steph, who was going to put you down beside her before you curled into her lap. She wrapped her arms over your small body, pulling her blanket over the top of both of you so that you were in a cocoon of warmth.

You grabbed Steph’s pointer finger and squeezed. Bingo was facing the grassy field while you had your head towards Lia.

“Are you playing with Mama today?” You asked, settling one of your arms over Lia’s lap.

Lia and your Mama were in love like Vivi and Beth, but Mama says that their friends now. You don't remember a lot without Wally living with you, but Wally wasn't your Mama like Mama was your Mama. You were Mama’s more than anyone else. Auntie Lani always called you Cait, and Auntie Macca would say that you were your Mama’s twin.

Lia was a very nice cuddle buddy. She read bedtime stories to you and let you sleep in her and Mama’s bed if Mama was already asleep.

But now Wally didn't live with you anymore, and the bed was a lot bigger without two cuddle buddies.

“I might be after the second half, but right now I'm here with you,” Lia answered, squeezing your flushed cheeks before drawing patterns on your hand.

You looked up at Steph, reaching for her face, and settling your hand on her cheek. “Where’s Lani and Flower?”

Wally and Kim laughed from either side of you. Mary’s real name wasn't Flower, but she was pretty like a flower, and you thought that Mary smelt like a flower too, so that's what stuck. You made the mistake of looking at your Mama’s team, unable to spot your Australian friends amidst the team.

“They're both on the bench, Bug.”

You peered across the seats around you, only finding Arsenal girls.

“Not this bench, darling.” Stephy shook her head. “Different one.”

“Why not all together?” You asked, folding your arms across your chest. The ball went out of play, and you forgot your question when you saw Mama retrieving the ball.

You squealed when your Mama waved, putting your hands in your mouth and blushing when one of the Lani-Flower teammates gushed at you in adoration.

The Lani-Flower teammate was blonde, and wore a ponytail very high on her head. While she wasn't someone you were particularly familiar with, you made the effort to wave meekly at her, feeling a blush film across your face when the woman waved back.

“Classic Hempo.” You heard someone say, and you wondered whether Hempo was your friend or not. She wasn't an Australian like you, because you had never seen her back home. Maybe she was one of Bethy’s friends, because when she yelled, she sounded a lot like her friends.

“Wanna give her one of my Lollies.” You announced, looking down at the jar that Steph had put on the floor, reaching down and using all of your strength to get it on your lap.

“Maybe after the game, Bug,” Steph spoke, opening the jar, and letting you pop one of the sweets into your mouth. “Lauren is playing at the moment. If you want, you can give her one at the very end, okay?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Who’s Lauren?”

Steph sighed, shaking her head with a soft smile. “The girl that just waved at you.”

“Hempo?”

“Yes, darling, Hempo.”

The game continued on for what felt like forever. No one was scoring goals, not even your Mama. Most of the girls on the bench had grown anxious leading into halftime, and now it was Steph who was playing with your hands as you watched both teams tread towards the Changing Rooms.

Kim was very scary at times, even when her scariness was directed at you. She was very, very stern, and sometimes you had to cover Bingo’s ears because what she was saying was not always appropriate for younger ears.

Lee was also letting out her frustration. Leah was definitely opposed to the lack of goals since she was encouraging all of the girls to get back out there and try harder. You wondered why the Lani-Flower Team was so hard to beat when Mary and Lani weren't even playing. You’d understand if they were on the field, but they must've had superpowers that made the team really good because they were on the bench that you couldn't see.

Leah had the big band around her arm — the one you thought should be a ribbon but wasn't. You wore your ribbons all the time, at home, school, games, everywhere. Mama would send photos to your Auntie Hayley all the time, showing how her legacy was proven charismatic on her daughter.

Hayley was someone you missed a lot, especially when she and Mama never versed each other. When you were in Australia, Hayley would do your hair, and she’d use her own special ribbons. She would spend a lot of time with you. She and Ellie Belly would go out with you on what they called ‘Big Girl Days’, where you’d play at the park, get ice cream, and go to the movies, all in one day. You loved Ellie Belly, she was as silly as you. She loved blowing raspberries on your tummy. She was always throwing you up in the air, giving your Mama a surprised face.

You wanted a Big Girl Day now, you thought to yourself. The weather in London wasn't nice. You liked swimming with Harper and Harley. You liked spending time with your Australian Aunties in the sun.

You were sitting in Lessi’s lap, keeping yourself still as she redid her hair. Your coat was left on your seat on the bench, but the Changing Rooms were nice and cosy so no one paid much attention. Your Mama was fixing her hair as well, something everyone seemed to do, so you paddled over to her and tugged on her shorts.

“Hold on a second, Bug,” Mama spoke, smiling down at you, patting the wispy bits of your hair behind your ears.

You didn't want to wait, so you sighed and waddled to the next available person.

You tugged on Katie’s shorts, latching onto her leg and beaming at the woman’s immediate reaction.

“Well, hello, Miss Yellow!” She uttered, jostling your bright-coloured jersey and fixing your ribbons.

“I'm not Miss Yellow!” You laughed loudly, swatting away her hand. “I'm Bug!”

“You're a bug and yellow?!” Katie’s eyebrows raised as she pretended to be shocked. Everyone looked on in adoration, but to you her shock was real. Your laughter emulsified. “That means you're a Bee!”

“No, I'm not a BumbleBee!” You grinned, clasping your arms around her neck, soaking in the way she held you close. “I'm just Bug!”

“Oh, you're bug!” Katie huffed, shaking her head and sighing. “You scared me, Bug. I thought you were a Bee.”

“A Bumblebee, Katie.”

“That's right, a Bumblebee.”

You huffed, deciding that you were just smarter. “You're so silly, Katie.”

Katie let you run over to Mama, who swung you playfully all the way to the bench again.

Everyone was coming back onto the pitch, and the refs blew their loud whistles so that they could start kicking the ball. Both teams were a little bit more aggressive in everything they did. Katie was pushing and getting shoved, and Hempo was doing the same. Another blonde Lani-Flower girl was getting angry at Katie, but the Refs didn't put up their naughty cards so the game went on.

It had been a little while since you were sitting alone on the bench with just Bingo and your Lolly Jar. You scanned the pitch again, wondering whether Hempo was, but couldn't find her. Everyone was warming up on the sidelines. Steph had told you to count how many lollies you could eat so that you were left with something to do.

But you were growing very bored when no goals were happening, and no one to talk to.

So, as your Mama always said, do what makes you happy.

So you did.

You clambered out of your seat, using your big muscles to lug the Lolly Jar with you. Everyone was still playing around you, but you knew that Lani and Mary were here somewhere.

Without thinking, you forget your coat in your chair.

You were careful with every step you took, making sure you were holding the Jar tight. You stopped and waited for people to pass by so you weren't in the way, and it didn't take long for Red Jerseys to turn into Blue ones.

You felt a little out of place with your bright yellow jersey, you thought that no one else knew what you were wearing. After a little while longer of trampling down the sideline, you found a similar bench to the Arsenal one, except there was not a blotch of red in sight.

It took you a few more steps until you shivered at the coolness. You felt silly for not remembering your coat like Mama told you, but you didn't want to leave your Lollies instead. Mama told you to always share your Lollies, so you were doing what she told you to do, just not everything.

You found a coat similar to yours alone on one of the seats. It looked very warm, and you wanted to be warm, so you put the jar down with caution and grabbed the jacket with ease, slipping it on like Mama had taught you.

It wasn't until you saw Mary being subbed on and a cautious hand grabbing your shoulder that you realised that you had one of your ribbons falling from your hair.

“Um, excuse me.” You heard a woman say, making your little head reel up. “I think you're wearing my jacket.”

The sight of Hempo — or Lauren, as Stephy said — sent you into shyness. Mama said you weren't allowed to talk to strangers, even if they seemed friendly and smiled. You didn't necessarily think of Hempo as a stranger, since Mama talked to her and Stephy knew her name, but you only knew her from today, so an introduction was needed in order for you to feel even remotely safe.

“Was cold.” You muttered, holding your Lolly Jar as tight as you could, making you realise that you had not only left your coat on the Arsenal Bench, but Bingo, too. “Sorry.”

This sent your big girl feelings over the edge. The combined factors of strangers, the loud noises of the crowd, your coldness, and no Bingo made your lips quiver and your eyes rimmed with tears. You struggled to put the Lolly jar down but did so in a hurry, avoiding Hempo’s eyes as you tried to shake off her jacket.

The blonde woman stood above you in shock, feeling a wave of guilt wash over her when tears flooded your cheeks. She hadn't meant to make you cry. She was just confused about why you were there, and not with Arsenal, and why you were wearing her coat instead of your own.

“Oh, no, I'm so sorry.” She spoke, shaking her head as she knelt on the floor, making sure you were okay with her being at your level. “You can keep my jacket, I swear. You're smart for staying warm—”

“—Mama says swearing is bad.” You retorted, tears drying the minute the blonde spoke. Sniffles fell from your nose. “Are you on the Lani-Flower’s team?”

Lauren looked at you incredulously. “The what?”

“My Auntie Lani and Flow— Fowler, is on that team,” You pointed onto the pitch, specifically Mary, who was carrying the ball down the wing. Lauren glanced across the field, noticing Mary had no clue about what was going on. She looked back at you and smiled meekly.

“Is your Mum or Dad in the crowd somewhere? I could always help you find them.”

The mention of a father made your eyebrows furrow. You had thought that Hempo had known your Mama, but apparently not.

“You were talking to my Mama just then!” You sighed, picking up your Jar and peeling off the lid. “I was sitting on Stephy’s lap when you waved at me.”

“What?” It took a beat for Hempo’s face to change, a flow of realisation painting her features. You popped a treat into your mouth. “Oh! You're Foord’s daughter! Sorry, wait-”

You watched as the woman kneeled down again, carefully using her hands to open the split of her jacket that covered your jersey. It revealed the bold Australian colours and emblem. You pivoted so that your shoulders showed off your last name.

“Want a Lolly?” You asked, holding out the heavy container.

“Sure… I guess.” Lauren hesitated but nodded after soaking in your adamant state. “I'm sorry for asking but… why are you over here?”

“I'm looking for Auntie Lani.” You stated, not bothering to ask the woman before making your way over to a spare seat. “Mama told me that I should share my Lollies, but my Auntie Stephy was warming up, and Kim is a little scary sometimes, and Wally was stretching, and Ky Ky was playing, so Flower and Lani were left.”

Lauren managed to understand your whines to help you up onto the chair, joining next to you. “Did Caitlin say you could come over here.”

“Um,” You pondered, slightly sheepish. “She didn't say no.”

“Oh,” Lauren replied, unable to conform to a solid response. “Um, do you want me to get Alanna for you, then?”

You thought to yourself for a moment, thinking about whether Hempo was nice enough to stay with you until you felt like moving again. You settled on a yes.

“No that's okay.” You spoke, leaving the Lolly Jar on your chair and moving into Lauren’s lap. “You can have more Lollies. Mama said I should share.”

Without thinking, Lauren shoved her hand down the jar, grabbed a handful of lollies and slowly popped them into her mouth one by one. She didn't know if keeping you with her was a good idea, especially after Laia shot a brilliant goal, sending City into the lead. Alanna was warming up, getting ready to go on, so no Australians could help her out.

You weren't affected by the score, too busy babbling on about how much you wanted some sort of Bingo that Lauren had no idea about. You were content on the woman’s knee, happy in the way she bobbed up and down rhythmically, similar to how Ellie Belly would when your Mama was in interviews.

You both fell into comfortable conversation, leading each other into new topics as the game went on. Lauren let you play with her hands, and you didn't mind how many strawberries and creams she was taking from your jar. No one from either team had noticed the two of you in your own little bubble.

Everyone except a man with a big camera and a microphone.

The English woman didn't know you well. She knew that Caitlin kept you away from the media and that you were a very private part of her life that she kept at bay. You were a bubbly child with a bright personality, she thought, but she also wondered whether you got yourself into trouble as often as it seemed.

Lauren knew the man from City’s media team. He was friendly, and nice to talk to, but she had never had the experience of a toddler in her arms to handle this kind of attention.

“Who might this be?” He spoke, holding the camera up to the both of you.

Before Lauren could answer, you swerved your front to face her chest, potent in the way you shoved your body away from the camera. Your Mama had taught you to do this from a very young age, and now it felt like second nature.

Lauren caught onto your worry almost instantly, shaking her head towards the kind man, waving his endeavours off.

The man must've caught on quickly, as the camera dropped as fast as it arrived. You kept your head buried into Hempo’s neck, curling your legs around her waist, thankful for the way she pulled your hood up.

“Don't worry, I don't like cameras all that much, either.” She cooed, rubbing your back in comforting circles, relieved at your tense figure softening as she did so. “Sometimes it's just good to talk without them, eh?”

“Yeah,” You muttered in agreement, pulling your head away slowly, taking your time to turn back around.

The game was coming to an end, heading into extra time, and you were feeling the effects of your long adventure hurling over your little body.

Arsenal were not playing to their strengths, and the frustration of their gameplay radiated in beams to everyone who watched.

You had just caught sight of Auntie Lani being subbed on before your eyes had drifted close and your breathing had evened. Lauren only noticed your deep slumber when the full-time whistle blew, and you made no more advancements towards your Lolly Jar.

Hempo tried extra hard to keep you sound as she curled her arms around you, lifting you into a cuddle, and walked towards her celebrating teammates and defeated rivals silently. With your hood still up and the blonde rubbing small patterns on your back, you held onto the woman peacefully, relishing the fatigue that had caught up to you.

Hempo had separated from her confused teammates — who were all questioning when Lauren ever had any affiliation with a child — and strolled over to the Arsenal bench, where a flurry of anxiety hit her straight.

Kyra was indefinitely pale. Wally and Leah were searching the parameters of the field. Katie was ridiculing fans, and Caitlin was an absolute wreck.

Beth was beside herself, Viv by her side, comforting her spouse with a strained expression herself.

A flooding red flushed Lauren’s face, the reality of the stress the girls in front of her were under hitting her like a truck. She was conflicted in keeping you sleeping and running over to announce that you were okay. She resulted in jogging cautiously, nearly dropping the Lolly Jar on the way.

Leah was the first to notice the young Lioness. “Lauren, what are you—”

The Arsenal Captain nearly collapsed at the sight of your tiny figure curled up in her arms, meeting the woman in the middle and calling out to the rest of the girls.

“Oh my fucking God, where was she?” Caitlin sighed, immediately taking you from Lauren’s chest and hugging the breath from your lungs.

You stirred out of your daze, surprised by the sound of your Mama’s voice and not Lauren’s.

“Mama swear.” You whispered, not comprehending the gravity of the situation as you found a new comfortable position in your Mama’s arms.

“She was just wandering around with her Lolly Jar, looking for Alanna and Mary,” Lauren spoke, her voice cracking at the amount of eyes on her. “I was with her the whole time. She just wanted to share her Lollies, and erm— she forgot her coat so— yeah… oh and something about Bingo—”

“Thank you so much,” Caitlin said, looking down at you and hugging you closer. “How long did you think she was by herself?”

“Oh, not long.” Lauren started. “I found her with my coat on, so she knew what to do with herself. But I made sure no one recorded her. I'm not sure about when she was alone though, sorry.”

“Don't be.” Caitlin sighed. “I'm just glad she was with someone.”

“Shared my Lollies, Mama.” You whispered out from her neck. “But I think we need more Strawberries and Cream.”

Katie came up behind you and Mama with your toy Bingo in her hands. She took off your hood and poked your cheeks. “I think that's enough lollies for you, Bumblebee.”

You took Bingo and hugged her, smiling like not a minute in the world had passed, content with the new friend you had made and the lollies you had eaten.

You hoped every match was like this.

________________________

[wosoamazing]

Mum versus Ma

Summary: You go to the world cup camp with your Mum. Based off these requests – one & two.

Warnings: none I don’t think.

A/n: Sorry, this is short. I have been working heaps the past week, but I am still working away at your requests (the Leah x Child!Reader one, the Sam redemption one and I will start on the Barca x Arsenal game one soon) and some other fics. I’m starting Uni soon so will try and get into a more regular posting routine.

“Harper” “Y/N” you and harper exclaimed as you saw each other when you arrived at camp. You loved going to Matilda’s camp because it meant you got to spend time with Harper, you would always been seen together, whether it was playing together off to the side during the occasional training so Linda could take a break, or having tea parties with Linda in the common room while the girls trained, or even just running up and down the halls together, you did everything together. Everything the media team captured melted the hearts of Australia, but the one that everyone seemed to love was the video taken of you two skipping down the tunnel holding hands, as you giggle together.

____

You were on the bench sitting on Sam’s lap, she couldn’t play because she was injured, and offered to look after you. She practically begged Tony to let her, he knew Sam was upset about her injury and so hoped having you there would make it easier, so he said yes, secretly hoping it might help everyone.

You were sporting your mini-Matilda kit, you had a temporary tattoo flag on each cheek, one was an Ireland flag, and the other was an Australia flag. You weren’t really enjoying the game, you didn’t really know who to go for, your Mum’s had never versed each other since you were born, that was until today. You didn’t really like it, they kept tackling each other, your Ma kept making Raso fall over, and Tony kept yelling that she deserved a yellow, no one was happy.

When your Ma hurt herself in the 35th minute, the teams huddled round their coaches as your Ma was getting treatment, you made grabby hands for your Mum, but she didn’t hold you like normal in team huddles, she just brushed the hair out of your face and kissed your forehead, before turning back to listen to Tony, you huffed and looked at Sam whose brows furrowed which made you laugh and you seemed to forget about being mad at your Mum.

During half time your Mum did hold you briefly before you got too squirmy, so she put you down and you ran around the locker room, no one minded though and some secretly hoped that it might mean you would sleep during the second half, considering how antsy and moody you were getting.

You did sleep briefly in the second half falling asleep promptly after Steph scored her penalty however you were woken up by fans yelling at the ref saying, “that’s a foul” “give her a yellow” and some fans booing. You saw that the ref was talking to your Ma, you quickly realised that the fans were booing her, you didn’t like that, she was just doing her job. A tear fell out of your eye, and you quickly buried your head back into Sam’s chest, who realised you were upset due to the ever growing wet patch forming on her chest, so she wrapped a spare puffer jacket around you pulling the hood up so it covered your head, and hugged you tightly, her comfort and your new found safety from the outside world caused you too drift off again.

When you woke back up, you cautiously peered out of your safety bubble and were meet with a warm smile from Sam, you then turned your head towards the field, where the Ireland and Australia players were too similar of a colour for your sleepy eyes. Most of the yellow Matilda’s jerseys had smears of green all over them, you know it’s from the grass which makes you feel icky again as it meant they had been tackled lots. There wasn’t really anything exciting happening, so you decided to go back to sleep.

You had started to wake up again when you felt two hands at your sides, before you were swiftly picked up and placed on the hip of your Mum, she kept the jumper wrapped around you but peered into the hood and she was meet with your little face smiling sleepily at her. “Want to see Ma?” you nodded eagerly.

“Where is my little Munchkin,” you Ma said before she pulled your head down, “there she is” she exclaimed causing you to let out a cute giggle. You get told to smile, while your Mum’s pose for a photo before you are put down, you make your way over to Harper and you both bear hug each other causing you both to fall to the ground before you are in fits of laughter.

“Toddlers are really just like mini drunk people” Mini chuckles.

“Definitely,” your Mum replies.

“She looks happy now, I’m glad” Sam says as she joined the three women, gaining a confused look from your Mums, “She was crying, that’s why she had the puffer around her, I didn’t want any fans or the media capturing it, I thought that would be unfair. I think its probably because it’s the first time she has watched you play against each other, and some of the fans were booing you McCabe.”

“Oh okay, we’ll have a talk with her later.” Your Ma says before kissing your Mum, causing you and Harper to simultaneous whine out “ewwww”.

[ivymarquis]

Say You Won't Let Go

Last House on the Right

Pairing| John Price x F!Single Mom!Reader Rating| E Word Count| 1.1k Kinks/Content/Warnings| Post Apocalypse!AU, Single Mom!verse, pregnant reader, mentions of pregnancy related eating issues + vomiting, Reader's got some separation issues. Fair warning this is so half baked I haven't even decided what kind of apocalypse it is, but somehow Ive got a whole plotline regardless.Same pairing as my fic Blind Date

Next Chapter

You can’t believe your luck. 

You’re not sure what exactly it was about this house in the dead of night that had you so transfixed, but your intuition has paid off in spades. 

The area’s been abandoned, to your knowledge leaving you the sole inhabitant meandering around. 

Or maybe waddling would be a more apt description.

Fear and uncertainty of the outside hurry you along into the house. Most everyone- the survivors- has splintered off into groups. There’s no evidence of anyone still living here (admittedly it’s not like you’ve taken the time to check every room, but there are signs when a house is inhabited), but you luck out that the cabinets haven’t been picked over. 

It’s been entirely too long since your last meal, and it takes a good amount of restraint to not devour the can of ravioli too quickly. 

As much as you’re tempted, you know there’s a fine line between what will and won’t have you immediately throwing up in the sink- grazing seems to keep the worst of the upset down.

There’s no hospitals to jaunt off to if you end up dehydrated. Excessive vomiting is not ideal post end of days.

If you were in your right mind- not frightened, isolated, starving, cold- and not focusing on how the unheated chef boyardee might as well be a five star michelin meal for all you can think right now, you might have been paying more attention.

The sound of a safety clicking off behind you freezes your blood far more than the cold. That sound is deliberate. Whoever’s behind you- gun pointed at you- wants you to know they got the jump on you.

“Hands where I can see them,” the order is gruffly barked at you.

You feel stupid. Of course all of this was too convenient for you to simply be catching a break. It wasn’t exactly well lit and designed to draw you in- but you’re an animal caught in a trap regardless.

The fork clatters against the counter next to the can as you go to comply.

“Turn around. Slowly.”

You’re not much of a threat in your current condition. That much is obvious.

Time stopped having any sort of tangible meaning a while ago. You should know how many weeks you are, but the days run together fending for yourself and you just know that you’re close. There’s no hiding the swell of your belly.

The man at the doorway looks as gruff as he sounds. Your mind spins like a tire in mud to process everything in front of you in the poor moonlight. Military, that much is obvious. You’re not actually sure if that’s a good thing. Handsome from what you can see, though historically your type has been men who don’t have a weapon leveled at you.

The taciturn expression on his face falters when he spots your bump, but you’ve learned by now to not expect any sort of special treatment.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize immediately. “I-I didn’t know anyone was here. I’ll leave, I swear.” 

He looks at you another moment before a look of resignation washes over him.

“Turn back around. Keep your hands up.” Oh God. Your mind immediately goes to the worst- That this man, for whatever reason, has decided that your infraction has signed your death warrant. That he can’t quite bring himself to fire on a pregnant woman staring him in the eyes, so the last thing you’re ever going to see is some tacky wallpaper and ugly cabinets.

You yelp when one of his hands finds the pistol on your hip. Holy shit you didn’t even hear him cross the room.

“Easy, love,” he soothes as he starts to frisk you for more weapons. “Not gonna hurt you. You have anything else on you?”

“A knife in my back pocket.” It doesn’t even occur to you to lie; putting yourself in his good graces is your only option and you can’t do that by lying.

His hands slip under your jacket, the hem oversized and hanging even with your arms up, making a wrong guess at the first pocket he checks before grabbing the knife out of the second one.

“Anyone going to come sniffing around looking for you?” A fair question, but one that sticks like a knife between your ribs.

The “No,” that escapes you is softer than you meant it to be, voice warbling as you try not to cry.

Hormones would have had you on the verge of tears at any given point, and that would have been before the end of the world and before your group abandoned you. You’re well entitled to your tears, you think, but try to stuff them back down anyway.

“You’re out here alone,” he grouses, sounding like he doesn’t believe you. The like this? is implied.

Your arms are still up, and they’re getting tired. Everything tires you out these days.

Like he can read your mind, he releases you with a “you can set your arms down now, love.”

“Thank you,” you’re in full fawn mode, turning to face him. While he’s clearly decided against killing you, you’ve been scared and alone for the past few days and you really don’t want to be separated from the only person who will give you the time of day right now. 

“Is there anyone else here? Other soldiers?” Your fate is sealed and lies in the soldier’s hands regardless of his answer.

Nothing with change, no matter what he says, but you think you’re less intimidated if it’s just the two of you. 

The world’s gone to hell in a handbasket, and yet you’ll never forget watching 28 days later when the line I promised them women was dropped.

“Got separated from my team.”

He turns away from you, gesturing to follow him out of the kitchen and towards the living room.

He’s limping.

You haven’t seen him move until now. You’re more an expert on busted hardware than busted body parts, you can’t tell if it’s a fresh injury that’s still healing, or an old one that’s set in place.

“They left you.” They left me, too.

“They didn’t leave me for dead, they think I am dead. Gonna take a bit more than that to get the job done, though.” 

You have no reason not to believe him. Despite having just met him, the man is like a living manifestation of everything masculinity is supposed to be- down to the surly attitude despite him herding you further into the house. It doesn’t take much to figure out that he’s tough as nails and sure why not flirt in death’s face that her last attempt wasn’t good enough?

You sit on the couch he points to, as he settles into the leather chair across from you.

“Christ what’d I’d do for a fucking smoke right now,” he mumbles, pawing at his chest absent mindedly on reflex.

You mean to sit stiff as a board, but your body is tired and the couch is surprisingly comfortable.

The soldier, however, sits like he owns the house. “And now for the question of what to do with you.”

[0oolookitsme]

i really really loved baby it's cold outside. the blushiness had me squealing can we has more pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee<3

Burning Up

You sent this request in long, long ago, bestie anon, and I just hope that you'll see and enjoy reading this fic!! I'm sorry for taking so long! I just wanna tell you that this fic has equal amounts of blushiness as 'baby it's cold outside', so it only felt right to attach your ask to this!

Verse - Dwd!Harry x Dwd!Y/n

Word Count - 2.0k

Warnings - Mentions of puke, fever, and passing out.

Harry is sick, and Y/n is panicking because she isn't quite sure how one takes care of a sick person, plus, she can't even cook well enough! But, as she takes care of him, it's like time slows down, and then speeds back up -- just like her heart each time that he lazily smiles at her.

"Harry!" Shrieking, Y/n rushed forward. Heart thudding, she crouched beside his slumped figure and turned him so his head was in her lap. He had been puking, she realised.

"Oh my god, Harry," her voice wavered, trying to get up and bring him with her. "You're burning up," she said to no one in particular, sweat breaking on her forehead as she felt some slip down her back as well.

She took in deep breaths, telling herself that it wasn't anything as bad as the conclusion her frantic mind had jumped to upon first sight. It was just a fever, a very high one at that.

Had she not woken up to use the bathroom, she wouldn’t even have realised that he was out of bed, and passed out on the bathroom floor!

With one hand, she flushed the toilet before clutching his wrist, hanging his arm across her shoulders. His head, on the other side, had slumped off her shoulder and was now brushing against her chest – but she couldn’t have been less bothered about that.

"This is bad, oh this is so bad," she shook her head, face palming herself in her head for not realising earlier that he was running a fever. For accepting his plee and sleeping before he had arrived home, because he was going to work a little later.

"Oh lord," she breathed, staggering forward but making sure that neither of them fell. "It's alright, we're gonna get you to bed," she reassured, not sure if him or herself.

Dropping him on the bed, she cursed when she realised that he had slumped over top of the blanket. Oh, she wasn’t strong enough for all of this!

Still, somehow, she managed to thank the heavens above that he had changed his clothes while raising his legs to get the blanket out from beneath him, proceeding to drape it over his lower half.

His torsos was almost in place, he just needed to move a little up in order to fit his legs.

“Please lord, just make sure he doesn't open his eyes for this one.” She muttered under her breath before crossing one of her legs over his lap.

Getting up on her knees she climbed a little higher so she was now hovering over his stomach, and then raised his shoulders through his armpits and pushed him up, cussing again when he stirred awake.

Of course, he woke up during this. Her breasts were in his face right now and he woke up!

"Y/n?" He croaked out, and Y/n almost flinched due to how hoarse his voice had gotten.

"Yes, yes," she rushed, getting off of him, onto the other side of the bed. "I'm right here."

She watched him heave a breath, before a smile pulled up on his mouth.

"You know, that was a nice view," he chuckled, face scrunching when a fit of cough followed.

With narrowed eyes, "you're hot," she stated.

"I know, love, but now's not the time," he managed to say.

Gasping loudly, Y/n covered her face. "I'm talking about your temperature, oh my god!"

Harry laughed at that, painfully coughing afterwards and closing his eyes due to the pure exhaustion, mumbling something.

"What was that, again?" Y/n asked, leaning in to hear him properly.

He mumbled again, something incoherent but Y/n could tell he had spoken something different from what he'd said earlier.

"I know I should've made you wear a coat," she shook her head, sighing with a slump of her frame.

But then, it was as if her senses knocked back into her. "God, what am even I doing," she smacked herself on the forehead before scurrying off of the bed and rushing to the kitchen.

She wet a towel there, throwing all of the ice they had left in the freezer into a large bowl before filling it with water. She dipped the small towel in it, squeezed out the water and walked back to the room carefully.

He seemed to have fallen asleep, so Y/n quickly folded the towel and put it on his head before rushing back to the kitchen to make a soup out of the little grocery they had at home.

It wasn't really her fault, it was the weekend, so, of course they were running out on fruits and vegetables.

So, almost on an autopilot brain, she took the frozen Kale from the fridge. Then, began collecting the ingredients. An onion, a garlic, some beans and potatos -- wait, he doesn't like potatoes in his soup, she remembered and put the two she'd picked out, back. A few Thyme Sprigs caught her eye and she snatched them, before adding a lemon into the small makeshift bowl her palm was right now.

And lastly, with a scrunched-up nose, she picked up the packaged chicken tenders from the freezer. Because whilst she did love herself some chicken, she couldn't, for the love of god, cook some herself because the feel of it made her sick to her stomach.

Once she had all of the ingredients set out, she rushed back to the room to check on Harry. He looked asleep, but she knew better. So, taking the towel off his forehead, she refreshed it in the ice bowl and put it back.

She got up afterwards and before she could've walked farther, Harry caught ahold of her hand. She turned to look, and his eyes were barely open but still set on her with a lazy smile on his mouth.

"Thank you," he rasped out.

An embarrassed smile grew on her lips. "Of course," she whispered before taking off towards the kitchen again, this time, burning up herself.

This was going to take longer than she wanted, so she began to move through the recipe as quickly as she could. Which was how, ten minutes into cooking, she cut herself a little on the finger while dicing the onions.

Hissing, she hurriedly wrapped a bandage around it and got back to work, hoping and praying that Harry was asleep and not in utter need of her. Although that would be flattering, it still wouldn't be practical.

Cooking wasn't her best skill. So many things, Harry had taught her how to cook when he'd married her about eight months ago. But she knew that something was better than nothing -- so what if the soup ended up tasting disgusting, at least she'd have something hot and healthy to feed him!

And as she was stirring the Kale into the soup to wilt and soften it, she wished nothing more than for her past self to buy a freaking booklet on how to take care of a sick person, because she was decently convinced that abandoning them for more than thirty minutes was not a part of it.

A creaking sound went to her ears, and she shrieked, jumping around only to see her half-asleep husband walking with all his might.

"What are you doing out of bed!" She panicked, walking over to support his heavy frame in some way.

"Oh, for the love of god, I need to pee," Harry grumbled, letting her drape his arm on her shoulder and walk him to the bathroom.

"Could've called me, you!"

Harry only mumbled some incoherent nonsense at that, waving her off before he seemed to realise how rude he was being.

So, just as incoherently, he uttered an apology to her and remembered nothing more than her laying him down on bed and falling on top of him because he laid down before she could've removed her arm.

That, felt nice. Almost every waking second that he spent near her, he just wished he could be a little bit nearer, hold her, maybe. Their marriage still felt so new, and he could tell that she wanted to take things slow.

And while he understood and respected that, he could also tell that he was falling for her as they grew closer and closer each day. He could see the frequency of the smaller and way more vulnerable gestures that sent shockwaves through him, increasing rapidly, like a wildfire. 

"Oh gosh, I'm so sorry," she blabbered, rushing to get off of him and pulling her shirt down, face utterly flushed and breathing suddenly heavy.

She got flustered so easily, and so often, that he worried her heart was going to fall out of her chest some day. 

And as she was walking out of the room, she heard a small chuckle pass his throat, causing her to smack herself on the forehead.

Rushing the last couple steps to turn off the stove, she leaned on the kitchen counter to catch herself a breather. This man was going to be the death of her.

She took out some of the soup in a small bowl and put it down before taking some ibuprofen in her other palm. Then, still blushing, she walked back to the bedroom they shared.

"You hadn't taken any medicine before, had you?" She asked, and when he just mumbled something, she knew it was going to be hell of a work to get the soup into his system. She just wished she could inject it in, because she would need to be way too close to him to feed him in a normal way.

Placing the soup on the bedside table, she sat beside him and placed her hands behind his back as he began to get up. Shifting so she was sat facing him, she picked back up the bowl and began stirring it with the spoon.

"Here," she muttered, blowing on the spoon before bringing it to his mouth, her eyes unable to remain still.

He swallowed the soup, and a smile came up on his face. "Feels nice," he whispered, before opening his mouth for the next spoonful.

The same thing kept repeating and slowly, Y/n's eyes settled on his blissful face. She needed to wipe off the sweat on his face, she realised.

"Is it any good?" She asked softly, wiping the soup slipping down his chin with her fingers.

He nodded at that, looking at her in a way she couldn't quite describe. And she hated it when he did that because it made her feel things. Something erupted inside her chest, blood rushed to her face, and it felt funny in her in her stomach.

His head was tilted to the side, and he was looking at her without a blink of an eye. He was staring. Didn't he know staring was bad? She wondered, her eyes looking anywhere but at him.

Upon the last bit, she got up and passed the pill to him, helping him with drinking water. She walked off to the kitchen again, putting the dish in the sink before she went back to him with another towel, this time gently wiping his face.

"Can I have another blanket?" She heard him ask when she was squeezing his previous towel rid of the excessive water.

A chuckle passed her mouth then, making him smile with his eyes closed. "Do you really think that's a good idea, darling?"

Immediately, her eyes widened at the realisation of what she'd just called him.

"Darling, hm?" Of course, he heard it. "I like that," he chuckled, falling into a fit of coughs soon after.

Placing the cold towel on his forehead, she raised his head – placing it in her lap when she sat down. Slowly, she began to press his head, hoping that it felt more relaxing than annoying to him.

And when he groaned, she knew she was doing a good job.

They didn't talk after that, and when he began to snore, she changed his towel one last time before slipping into the bed beside him. Usually, she'd be on the very edge to make sure she didn't get too close to him. But only because he was sick, she slipped closer to him to keep him warm for the night.

And her breathing stilled while her heart began thudding inside her chest when he took her hand and softly intertwined their fingers – before then bringing her arm to slip over his torso and pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles.

[wileys-russo]

can we get a leah playing piano to reader fic?

3am serenades II l.williamson

"baby." you stirred a little thinking you heard something but settled back into the warm cocoon of your duvet.

"love, wake up." you opened your eyes at that and blinked a few times, but the overwhelming darkness of your bedroom and lack of sleep meant once again you settled right back into bed.

"hey baby, need you to wake up for me please." a gentle shake to your body had you waking up a little more, recognizing the lips which gently kissed your forehead.

"you okay?" you slurred out tiredly, reaching out blindly grab at her. "yeah love, need you to wake up please." she requested again, pressing another soft kiss to your cheek this time as you sighed and rubbed your eyes.

"whats wrong lee?" you exhaled pulling yourself into a sitting position and slumping against the headboard. "can you come downstairs please? i just need you to listen to me play and-" your girlfriend started as you groaned loudly.

"leah oh my god...its three in the morning." you tapped your phone and groaned again, dropping back into bed and rolling onto your side.

"babe please! the performance is next week and i'm so fucking nervous and stressed that i won't be ready." leah whined, laying down next to you and poking at your back.

"pleasee, just for like half an hour and then i promise i'll come to bed with you and i'll take you out for breakfast tomorrow." leah pleaded, continually poking at your back as she peppered your cheek with soft kisses.

"can we go to frankies for breakfast?" you bargained quietly with a sigh, leah agreeing right away. "yes! literally anywhere you want baby i promise, my treat. and we can go to the markets afterwards, i'll buy you those big cookies you like and flowers." leahs cold hands grabbed your face, attacking your face now with kisses.

"okay okay! give me five minutes to wake up properly please." you requested rolling onto your back with a stretch. "i love you so much. you know that right?" leahs hands stayed resting on your face, eyes twinkling down at you with adoration.

"i love you too baby, if i didn't i wouldn't be getting up at three in the morning to help you practice piano." you smiled sleepily, tapping your lips expectantly as leah grinned and pressed a tender kiss to them.

"do you want a tea love?" she pulled away and asked as you hummed with a nod, the blonde kissing you once more and disappearing from the bed, footsteps heard retreating back downstairs to make you one.

a few minutes later now a little more awake you joined her, tucked up in a hoodie and sweats you heard her before you saw her, hunched over the piano and tapping away at the keys, mumbling to herself as her finger scanned down the music sheets propped up in front of her.

"hello lover." you mumbled tiredly, wrapping your arms around her neck and resting your chin on her shoulder. "how are you feeling?" you asked quietly, pressing a kiss to her jaw as she sighed deeply.

"terrified. i don't think i've ever been this nervous, like ever." "you're going to be brilliant lee baby, you just need to get out of your pretty little head a bit more." you smiled, tilting her head back and kissing her forehead affectionately before moving to sit beside her on the piano bench.

"play it for me, top to bottom." you gestured for her to start, kissing her cheek in thanks for the cup of tea which sat waiting on the top of the piano, sighing in relief as the mug warmed your freezing cold hands.

"ah bollocks!" leah swore with an annoyed huff as she messed something up. "go again, what does charles say?" you reminded, taking a sip of tea. "not to let one mistake define a performance." leah sighed, rolling her shoulders and going again.

"fuck it's this bloody second verse its killing me!" she groaned as she struck the wrong note again, head bumping down onto the keys causing a shrill noise to echo through your dimly lit shared home.

"darling i feel i need to remind you it is also three in the morning. you have not slept since what maybe seven thirty yesterday? you're hardly in your most sane state of mind right now to be playing piano." you placed your half empty mug gently on the ground and lowered your head to also bump down on the keys, both of you staring one another in the eye.

"what if this was like the worst possible idea in the world and i embarrass myself in front of everyone and look an absolute tit on the bbc?" leah mumbled, eyebrows knit into a worried frown.

"well you make yourself look like a tit when you kick off on the pitch anyway and thats been in front of thousands of people before!" you smiled teasingly, the joke not having gone over well if anyone else might have said it but leah had far too large a soft spot for you to take it with any ill will, rolling her eyes as a smile hinted at her lips.

"shut up, little shit stirrer." she grumbled, flicking your forehead playfully as both of you raised your heads up. "go on, go again love." you nudged her encouragingly, grabbing your tea off the floor as she took a breath to steady herself and went again.

"see baby! you played through." you kissed her cheek with a grin. "i still made a few mistakes though, and i can't do that in the real thing." leah sighed, forever her own harshest critic. "you still have six whole days baby and you're seeing charles at least another four times, no?" you reminded the blonde, moving to rub circles into her back as she nodded.

"why don't you take a break and play something else? you're still practicing your chords then." you suggested, head falling to her shoulder as leah licked the tips of her fingers and flipped through to another song.

this was one she was much more comfortable with, a song she'd taught herself during lockdown and had perfected over the years since. to your delight and surprise the blonde began to softly sing the words, a proud smile on your lips as you sat quietly and soaked it in.

"do you want me to show you a few chords?" your girlfriend offered once she'd finished, pressing a light kiss into your hair. with a nod she gestured for you to move, standing up as you slid where she'd once been sat.

placing her hands over yours her chin rested on top of your head as she spoke you through which keys to press, maneuvering your hands where they needed to go as you frowned in concentration.

"good. show me what you learned!" leah removed her hands, slipping them into the pocket of your hoodie to keep warm, chin still resting on top of your head. still frowning you slowly tried to mirror the chords she'd shown you, wincing as you very obviously got each one wrong.

"show me again please." you requested, leahs hands again coming to rest on top of yours as she moved you through each chord. this time when you tried to do them yourself you succeeded, smiling happily as leah tilted your head back, placing a few lazy kisses against your lips.

"okay, one more time top to bottom and then bed." you shuffled over again as leah nodded, taking her seat beside you again and resting her hands in the opening position, your head again dropping tiredly to her shoulder.

"come on leah." the blonde mumbled to herself determined, inhaling deeply and exhaling before she began to play, your hand resting on her thigh giving it a light squeeze of encouragement.

you smiled as now a little more relaxed leah managed to get through the entire song without one single mistake. "see! you are fucking brilliant leah catherine." you grabbed her face and repeatedly kissed her cheek causing her to let out a laugh, half of amusement and half of relief.

"my beautiful good luck charm." leah turned her face so your lips now met hers, pulling away and offering you a hand up as she shut the lid on her piano and stretched. hurrying to flip the lights off leah was quick to follow you back up and into bed.

"thank you my girl, i needed that." leah whispered into the dark, her hands finding your body as she slid into bed, pulling you to lay on top of her.

"i am so proud of you leah. you know that right? you're the most wonderfully passionate person i've ever had the pleasure of knowing, and the most fiercely resilient and determined woman i've ever had the privilege of loving." you spoke softly and sincerely, carding your fingers through her hair and staring down at her with eyes filled with an immeasurable amount of love.

"i don't know what i ever did to deserve you but i'll never take it for granted baby girl. i couldn't have made it through the last few months without you by my side and i know at times i've been an absolutely miserable nightmare but you've never not loved me and i'll spend the rest of my life grateful to have you." leah whispered back, her hands clasping your cheeks as her own eyes swam with endless tender adoration.

"right enough of this soppiness then, time to sleep babe." leah smiled, bringing your mouth down to meet hers in a slow and loving kiss. "i was doing that before you woke me up!" you teased, rolling off of her and wiggling into her side as her front pressed into your back, lazy kisses scattered across the back of your neck.

"i love you." you brought your intertwined hands up to your mouth, kissing the back of her palm and pulling her arms to wrap even tighter around you. "i love you more my pretty girl."

with that your eyes drifted close again, the feeling of your girlfriends chest rising and falling against your back helping to lull you off into a dreamless sleep. well, almost.

"leah i can feel your fingers playing the piano against my hip please go to sleep!"

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: a little fic inspired by a convo @youunravelme and i had a couple of days ago! couldn’t stop thinking about this little idea and just had to write it ☺️ a little bit more lore in the squeaks’ verse added here and lots more to come! enjoy!!

tw: a little innuendo, domestic fluff

word count: 4.3k

summary: it’s talia’s first day of kindergarten and neither you nor mat is handling it particularly well

mat and t’s first day of kindergarten

You lean forward on the counter and smile at Talia, who’s looking at you skeptically. “How about we pick some snacks for your lunch tomorrow?” You ask chirpily.

“How about no?” Talia looks back at you with wide hazel eyes and a nervous tilt to her lips. Her fingers twist together and she kicks the heels of her feet against the legs of the stool she’s sitting on.

“You’re going to be hungry if we don’t pack any snacks,” you reply reasonably, unzipping the brand new Disney Princess lunchbox you’d picked up a few weeks ago at Target. The rush of back to school shopping, even if it wasn’t for you, was a high like nothing else. You’d gone slightly overboard on the supplies and in a burst of excitement, had bought yourself a new planner and half a dozen packs of various styles of pen. You can’t help but get excited about stationary.

“If I was home I wouldn’t be hungry and I could have snacks whenever I want,” Talia points out, tugging at the end of her dark braid. She twists her fingers in the hair below the tie and you reach over the counter to gently untangle her fingers.

You prop your chin on your palm and nod. “You could. But you’re not going to be home. It’s your first day of kindergarten and you’re going to have so many new experiences,” your tone is infused with excitement and you’re relieved to see that the nervousness in Talia’s expression fades a little. Her mouth twists to the side, eyebrows drawing together over her nose.

“Am I gonna see Tulsa?” She asks, hopeful.

“Tulsa’s in the next school, remember, baby?” You reply carefully, hating to burst her bubble. “She moved to a new school too.”

Talia’s lower lip quivers and she sounds impossibly sad when she says, “I thought me and Tulsa were gonna be in school together?”

“Not this year,” you reply sympathetically, but then perk up to continue, “we’re still getting first day of school ice cream with Tulsa and Gunnar and Aunt Holly and Uncle Bo. That’s exciting, right?”

Talia’s eyes light up at the promise of ice cream and you knew that would work. She’s her father’s daughter when it comes to her sweet tooth.

“And you and Daddy, right?” She asks, leaning up in her knees on the stool, little palms pressed flat against the countertop.

“And me and Daddy,” you confirm. “We’re even bringing you to school in the morning, before Daddy goes to work.”

“Okay,” Talia nods once, decisive, and her mood about starting kindergarten is all but gone. “Mommy, can I have fishies for a snack tomorrow?”

You move around the kitchen, gathering up the components for her lunch, “sure, love bug, you can have fishies.” The snack-sized packet of Goldfish get tossed into her lunchbox, along with a handful of raspberries, a peeled Cutie, exactly five pretzel twists, a Nutella and peanut butter sandwich cut into stars, and a small water bottle. Now that she’s into it, Talia’s definitely got opinions on what should be included with her lunch.

“No, you can’t take seven cheese sticks,” you sigh, pulling the bag out of her hands and replacing it in the fridge before shutting the door. “I’ll give you one.”

“But I want six!” She yelps, hanging from the fridge handle. “I want six!”

“Six what?” Mat’s voice echoes through the kitchen, the back door closing behind him.

“Daddy!” Talia squeals and makes a beeline for his knees, crashing into them with a muffled grunt from Mat. He holds the pizza box high over her head in one hand and rubs at her head with the other. “Mommy won’t let me have six cheese sticks.”

Mat grins at you over Talia’s head and you roll your eyes back, crossing your arms and leaning a hip against the counter. You wait to see how he’ll handle it.

He slides the pizza box onto the counter and hoists Talia up next to it, leaning his palms on the counter and kissing her cheeks until she giggles. “Mommy is always right, Talia Bee,” he says seriously. “Especially when it comes to knowing how many string cheeses you can eat.”

You smile to yourself, turning to the cabinets to get out plates and glasses for dinner. Mat keeps talking to Talia behind you. “Besides, the last time you ate three string cheeses you puked on my sneakers, what do you think six would do?”

“Uhhh,” Talia’s eyes go wide and she cradles Mat’s face in her little hands, “puke six times?”

You and Mat wrinkle your faces into matching expressions of disgust. “Yeah, we don’t want to do that, right?” Mat laughs, tickling Talia until she shrieks for him to stop.

Before Talia can knock into it, you slide the pizza box out of her reach, warmth filling your stomach at how adorable Mat and Talia are together. Every time you see them, with their dark heads bent together conspiring, your heart lurches with love. Having a family with Mat is all you’ve wanted since you’d seen him around his teammates’ kids.

“Daddy?” Talia pipes up a few minutes later, half-chewed pizza in her mouth.

“Swallow first, please,” you remind her, snagging the green peppers off of Mat’s slice. You have no idea when he even orders with green peppers when you’re the only one who likes them.

Talia chews and quickly swallows while Mat waits with a soft smile on his face. “Can I wear my helmet to school?” She props her chin on her fists and grins charmingly at you both. Her hockey helmet is covered in stickers and glitter, a project with Mat that you hadn’t been privy to before it happened. She’s really easy to spot on the ice during her skating lessons though.

Mat grins at your daughter, clearly delighted at the prospect of her walking into her classroom with the decorated helmet on, but he shakes his head a little. “I think your helmet is better left on the rink, TB. Didn’t you and Mommy pick out a dress?”

You casually slide a few carrot sticks on her plate, mentally fist pumping when she grabs one and absently starts chewing on it. “Yeah, baby,” you chime in, “I thought you liked the dress we picked? With the blue stripes and your fancy heels?”

Talia’s fancy heels are a regular old pair of sandals with a twisted knot over the toes and an ankle strap, but they also have a quarter of an inch thick sole by the heel and so, they’re “fancy heels.”

“Oh yeah,” Talia nods. “I forgot. Can I bring Sparky?”

“Sure you can,” you agree. “But he has to stay in your backpack, okay? We don’t want him getting lost.”

“And maybe,” she plucks her fingers at the crust of her pizza, “maybe I can take Daddy’s hat. And maybe my sparkle jacket?” Nerves creep into her voice and it wavers a bit, making your heart clench painfully. You just want to protect her from all the bad feelings.

Mat reaches out to tug at the end of her braid, “you can take my hat in your backpack too.” His lips twist up to the side a little, concerned about Talia’s nerves.

“And you can wear your sparkle jacket over your dress,” you promise. Mat’s Stanley Cup Champion hat and Talia’s customised playoff denim jacket had been staples in her wardrobe all summer and you’re not surprised that she wants to bring both with her to school as comfort items.

Talia beams and Mat slings his arm over the back of your chair, relaxing now that Talia’s happy again. “How about you finish that pizza and we get in a little park time?” He suggests, laugh echoing around the kitchen when Talia jumps up on her chair to start chanting about the park.

After clearing up dinner and wrapping the leftover pizza up, the three of you head out to the park, Talia zipping ahead of you on her little pink bike. Mat links his fingers with yours and you squeeze his hand gently.

“She’s getting so big,” he comments sadly, his lips turning down in a frown. You look up at his side profile, studying the way his eyes never leave Talia for a second. Your heart flips in your chest, a painful lurch when you think about how you should be holding another baby right now, how you want so badly to give Talia younger siblings. Mat looks down at you and squeezes your hand tightly, drawing you away from the negative thought spiral. His lips twitch, like he’s trying not to smile and you know he’s about to say something out of pocket to lift your mood. You wait and sure enough, he says, with a little twinkle in his eye, “maybe we should homeschool her?”

A laugh bubbles out of your chest, the absurdity of his question slash suggestion easing the knot in your chest.

“Mat, baby,” you giggle at him, “you have a high school education and I can’t do math. It took all of my brain power and patience to teach her how to read and write.”

“Okay, homeschooling is out,” he replies, leaning in to give you a quick peck before running off to the swings, where Talia is calling for him to push her. She still has her helmet on and it’s tipping just a little bit over her eyes. Mat’s behind her in an instant, sending the swing higher and higher into the air. You reach Talia’s bike and set it upright, sitting on the seat and watching your two favorite people in the whole world laugh together.

A warm early September breeze ruffles your hair and you wave when Talia shrieks for you to watch how high she’s going. You want to live in this moment forever and commit every detail to memory.

Mat spends the next forty-five minutes chasing Talia around the park, wearing her out enough that bath time is a breeze and she slips under her covers with little argument. You and Mat pile into her bed too and Talia curls up against your side, yawning widely. Mat reads Madeline, voice getting quieter and quieter as Talia nods off, until he’s stopped reading altogether and her mouth hangs open, face slack in sleep.

“Sleep tight, love bug,” you whisper, kissing the top of her head before easing out from under her arm. Mat helps, holding your waist and keeping you steady as you get to your feet. He plants his own kiss on Talia’s forehead and clicks off the bedside lamp and turns on the nightlight before following you out of the room.

A sort of bittersweet mood traps you and Mat while you get ready for bed later. You know she’s ready for school, ready to make new friends and learn, but it’s hard to know that your tiny best friend is going to be out of your sight for eight hours a day now.

“She’s going to kill it,” Mat says, opening his arms for you to cuddle close. You rest your cheek over his heart, arms wrapped around his waist.

“I know,” you sigh. Your legs tangle with Mat’s under the covers. “What am I going to do with my day now?”

“Bottomless brunches and window shopping at the Americana,” Mat teases, kissing the crown of your head.

You tuck yourself even closer to him, soaking up his body warmth. “Oh ha,” you drawl. “Very funny.”

“It’s why you married me,” Mat chirps and you know he’s grinning without even having to look at him.

“Mhm,” you hum. “Definitely not for your big….wallet.”

You giggle and Mat groans, training his fingers up and down your spine, making you shiver. “That was even worse than mine, Squeaks,” he mutters.

“Guess your terrible sense of humor is rubbing off on me,” you snark, kissing Mat’s chest and closing your eyes. He mutters something under his breath, but his heartbeat is steady in your ear and you’re asleep before you know it.

The next morning is harder than you expected, emotion clogging your throat as you get a special breakfast - Mickey Mouse shaped pancakes, bacon, and fruit cut into different shapes - ready for Talia while Mat helps her get dressed.

He’s surprisingly adept at doing her hair, a high ponytail braided and tied off. There’s a big white bow at the top of her ponytail and her smile is huge as she spins in the little blue and white striped sundress.

“I love this dress, Mommy,” she beams, wiggling excitedly while you tuck a napkin into her collar to keep her clean.

“You look like a princess,” you compliment her. “Daddy did a really good job with your hair.”

“Thank you,” Mat wiggles his eyebrows and sits down to his own plate of Mickey pancakes.

Talia looks at you with wide eyes and covers her mouth with both hands while she tries to whisper, “Daddy messed up soooo many times.”

Mat’s lips flatten into a straight line and he looks at Talia with sarcasm written plainly on his features. “Gee, thanks, TB. I thought we agreed not to tell Mommy that?”

Talia shrugs at him and returns to her breakfast, humming happily under her breath. You smile at Mat and lean over the counter to kiss him gently, darting your tongue out to lick up a drop of maple syrup on his lower lip. “I still think you’re pretty impressive,” you whisper against his lips.

Mat grins against your lips and Talia makes a fake gagging sound, “kissing’s gross!”

You pull back from Mat with a laugh and point your fork at your daughter. “You won’t always think that, now finish breakfast. You don’t want to be late for your first day, do you?”

Talia shovels another bite of pancake into her mouth, slightly less enthusiastic, and you kiss the top of her head before going into the front hall to find her backpack to make sure everything is packed up. It’s heavy, full of fresh supplies (including a 64-pack of Crayola crayons with Talia’s initials Sharpied onto each individual crayon, a fit of mania from Mat, because “no one is going to try and snake my baby’s crayons from her!”), the Disney Princess beach towel that’ll be used for nap time, and one of Mat’s old button downs that’ll be used for a smock during art class.

You zip the backpack and settle it back against the wall, swallowing the emotion clogging your throat. Seeing all of Talia’s gear packed up is making everything so much more real.

Mat’s hands on your hips startle you a little, and you jolt back against his chest. “Penny for your thoughts?” He mutters, kissing your cheek. His palms are warm on your sides, fingers splayed towards your belly button.

“Just thinking about how it seems like time is moving so fast,” you sigh.

Mat nods against your neck and mumbles into your skin, “can we get serious about trying for another again? I miss the baby years.”

Your heart beats in triple speed in your chest, anxiety flooding your veins, but you nod, whisper, “yes, definitely. I want another baby, Mat.”

The conversation is halted when Talia comes stampeding into the hallway, twirling around. “Mommy! Can I wear your lipstick?” She clasps her hands under her chin and pouts adorably. You should resist, tell her no and swipe on a little of the Pink Sugar Summer Fridays lip balm that she loves instead, but you find yourself nodding and pulling away from Mat to grab your purse off the hook.

“Sure, baby,” you squat in front of her, digging out the well-loved tube of Black Honey from the bottom of your purse. Talia puckers her lips out in a kiss and you swipe on a little bit of the sheer balm.

Twenty minutes later and running slightly behind schedule, after you make Talia pose for a few pictures with her Back to School board and she insists on Mat sitting on the step next to her for a picture, you’re all buckled into Mat’s car for the quick drive to the primary school. Talia’s swinging her feet in her booster seat, smiling happily now that she’s wearing the red cowboy boots Aunt Liana had brought back as a souvenir from her trip to Nashville over the summer instead of the sandals you initially wanted her to wear.

“Mommy,” Talia sing-songs, “I’m hot.”

“The air conditioning is on, T,” you sigh, rubbing at your temple. You know she’s probably hot because of the boots and the denim jacket she’d insisted on wearing. Her sandals are in your tote bag and all she has to do is ask for them, but a stubborn streak runs through your daughter, inherited directly from both you and Mat.

You can see the side of Mat’s lips tick up out of the corner of your eye, his fingers tapping along on the steering wheel as Justin Bieber plays on the radio - the old-school throwback station, which makes you feel ancient. He looks at Talia in the rear view mirror and says casually, “I bet you’d feel better if you let Mommy give you the sandals.”

Talia’s face crinkles up in disgust. “I don’t want the sandals. I wanna wear my Mashpill boots.”

A little giggle bubbles up in your chest, it’s getting rarer that Talia mispronounces a word, so you’re living for the Nashville/Mashpill mistake.

“The sandals won’t be as hot,” Mat says, and then, laughing, adds, “plus your feet won’t stink!”

“My feet don’t stink!” Talia gasps, outraged. She shoots back, shouting, “your feet stink!”

You laugh and Mat mock-glares at you. You give him an innocent smile, teasing, “keep your eyes on the road, dear.”

Mat scoffs at you, rolling his eyes even as a full smile graces his lips. Talia’s still chanting in the back about stinky feet, at the right age for the silly humor. Mat reaches out and rests his hand on your thigh, letting his fingertips drift up under the hem of the linen dress you’re wearing. The pads of his fingers dance lightly over the sensitive skin of your inner thigh and you shiver a little, goosebumps rising on your arms. Mat’s smile turns smug and he taps the volume button on the steering wheel with his other hand, singing along loudly to the Billy Joel song now playing. Talia’s little voice chimes in from the back seat with her made up lyrics, and by the second verse, you’ve joined in for the three-part harmony.

Mat pulls the car up to the curb outside of the school, parking behind a line of SUVs before turning the car off and pocketing his keys.

“Ready, T?” You turn around in your seat, smiling widely at her.

She sighs and kicks her feet up at you. “Mommy, can I have my sandals?”

Your smile softens and you nod, reaching behind you for the tote resting at your feet. “Sure can, baby. I think you’ll be more comfortable this way,” you reply, getting out of the front seat so you can open Talia’s door and change out her shoes before she hops out of her booster seat. Mat’s already out on the sidewalk, holding her little pink backpack in one hand.

He looks like such a stereotypical dad in his dark jeans and navy polo, hair scraped back off his forehead and slightly beat up sneakers. The little pink backpack just makes him even hotter and you can’t help but stare. When Mat catches you looking, he gives you a slow smirk and a quick wink, holding his hand out for Talia to take.

She grabs his hand with her free one and lifts her feet off the ground without warning, swinging between you and Mat. Your arm nearly pulls out of its socket and your heart skips a quick beat, but Talia giggles and you love that she feels safe enough to do that. Mat swings his arm, sending Talia forward and eliciting even more giggles.

“Maybe we can just skip school and go to the park?” Talia asks, planting her feet back on the ground and squinting up at the school. It’s a cute little square brick building, kindergarten and first grade classrooms on the outside of the hallways and glass windows looking in on a courtyard. The ceilings are lower inside to make it more welcoming to the kids and Mat can brush the ceiling tiles with his fingertips when he stretches his arm over his head - something he had learned during the open house a few weeks ago.

But from the way Talia’s looking at the building now you’d think she was standing in front of Hogwarts.

At the same time you open your mouth to suggest going to the park after school, Mat pipes up and says, “that’s a good idea, TB. You don’t need to go to school, you can just stay home with Mommy.”

“Mat!” You hiss at him over Talia’s head and he cocks his head at you, barely looking apologetic.

“What?” He mutters back. “It’s an option.”

“It’s not!” You say, at the same time Talia says, “I wanna stay with Mommy.”

You glare at him, hoping your expression conveys the exact levels of ‘see what you did?’ that you’re feeling. Mat’s mouth curls in a sheepish expression and you can see his hand tighten around Talia’s, like he’s not going to let her into the school. Before any of the three of you can say anything, you spot a tall older woman striding down the path towards your little group. You recognize her as the principal and are bracing yourself for the absolute hysterics that Talia is sometimes prone to.

“Hi Talia,” she smiles, bending a little at the waist so she can be at eye level with your daughter, “I’m Mrs. Seaver, the principal. Do you remember meeting me at open house?”

Talia nods, totally mute, her fingers tightening around yours. Your hear squeezes a little for her, nearly ready to break down and bring her home, like Mat had suggested.

“Why don’t you come with me and we can get you settled in your classroom?” Mrs. Seaver continues, somehow managing to get Talia’s hand and backpack away from Mat and starts walking her back up the path to the school. “Your mom and dad will be so excited to hear all about what exciting things you got up to today.”

Talia looks back at you over her shoulder, an apprehensive look on her face. Mat makes a move to step forward and follow them, but you reach out to lace your fingers with his, tugging him back gently. “We literally cannot keep her from going to school,” you whisper, pasting a bright smile on your face and waving at her with your free hand.

Mat looks constipated and you nudge him with the back of your hand, muttering, “smile,” until he manages something halfway decent.

“She’s just a baby,” he says out of the corner of his mouth, waving like a robot. “She shouldn’t be old enough for school.”

You sniffle a little, watching the door shut behind Talia and the principal, your hand dropping from the air. “I don’t understand how time went so fast,” you hiccup, tears building at your lash line. Anxiety starts to churn in your stomach. “Maybe you’re right, maybe we should keep her home another year.”

“Oh, whoa,” Mat wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you to his chest so he can hug you tightly. “We definitely need to distract you, if you’re starting to agree with me.”

He laughs and you manage a weak giggle against his shoulder. Mat’s hands are warm against your back and you melt into him. “I’m going to miss having my little sidekick around,” you confess, suddenly exhausted from holding it together. Other than a few hours a week at pre-k, Talia’s been by your side practically every second since birth.

Mat drops a kiss to the top of your head, “I’ve got a couple of hours before I have to hit the gym, why don’t we go home and make you a new sidekick?”

You can hear the grin in his voice and you pull back from his chest, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Don’t tease me, Mat,” you murmur, heart pounding wildly. He’d said about trying again earlier, but you weren’t really sure if he was serious.

“Not teasing you, Squeaks,” he replies, the familiar nickname falling from his lips warmly. At this point, he uses it more than your given name, the curse of those damn Nikes. Mat grips your chin in between his thumb and index finger and tilts it up a little more so he can bend his head and kiss you sweetly. “Let’s give it another try and if…well, if not, we can look more into surrogacy again.”

Your head bobbles a nod and your heart swoops a little in your chest, the excited/nervous fizz of Mat’s words making you feel a little dizzy. Baby making is a land mine sometimes for your brain, but right now all you know is that everything in your body is screaming for your husband to give you another baby.

Mat’s grip on your chin tightens briefly and he kisses you again, lacing your fingers with his to drag you back to the car. You skip along behind him, laughter fighting to escape your lips.

“Should we make this one in the bedroom?” Mat teases, holding open the door for you. His hazel eyes twinkle with mischief. “Or in the shower like T?”

A flush works its way up over your chest and face, your entire body going hot. Mat laughs at the expression on your face and you mutter, “we don’t know it was the shower.”

“Right, could’ve been the back seat of the car or the couch or in Bo’s bathroom,” Mat’s eyes dance, his smile wide and shit-eating.

You can’t help but smile back at him, electric delight working its way through your veins.

[chiaraanatra]

A Place For My Head

𝑏𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑏: JJ knows just how to cheer you up after a shitty day at work.

Warnings: fluff, characters are 18+, swearing, mild angst due to mentions of mild verbal sexual harassment, pet names (cupcake, pretty girl, & kittycat), kissing, no use of Y/N.

AN: first JJ fic! Based on this post and my exchange with @starfxkr about JJ and Kitten!reader and their love for Linkin Park.

Song: A Place For My Head by Linkin Park

《 m.list || ao3 》

You spend the 15-minute ride to JJ's in silence. It was peak touron season and the bar you worked at was packed with frat boys and married 40-somethings drinking away any semblance of civility they had. The tips were good but if you had to deal with one more drunken asshole commenting on how your ass looked in your shorts, you were going to lose it.

You tried to remind yourself that none of that mattered now. Soon you and JJ would spend the rest of the day soaking in the Carolina sun, surfing, and letting the tides wash away your problems.

JJ was waiting on the porch, surfboard under his arm when you pulled onto his gravel driveway. Wasting no time he ran over, throwing his board next to yours in the back of your truck before hopping into the passenger seat. He was surprised to not be met with blaring music, but he thought little of it. "Wassup, Cupcake?"

You only shrugged before attempting to put the truck in reverse; however, before your hand could reach the shifter JJ's blocked your action. His brow was knit together in concern. When you didn’t elaborate, he spoke, “Okay, what’s goin’ on?”

“Nothin'…” your hands ran over your face.

"Nah, none of that shit." JJ knew you better than anyone, he knew ‘nothing’ never actually meant nothing, especially coming from you.

Your head hit the wheel with a light thud, "Just assholes at work… The only things worse than Kooks during off-season are these fuckin' tourons..." Your head lifted to look out your windshield, "‘Nice ass sweetheart.' 'Wanna show me around after your shift?' 'Bet I can show you a good time'...” you groaned and rolled your eyes, “Fuckers..."

JJ's tongue pressed into his cheek. "Bastards... They got good taste though," he half-joked, placing an arm around your shoulder, "Maybe I should start coming by during your shift. Let all those tourons know you’re mine." A small smile graced your lips at the thought. “You know I would too.”

“Yeah, I know…” A small sigh left your lungs. “But I don’t wanna think about that now.”

JJ gave you a signature smile and moved his hand from your shoulder to your bare thigh. You couldn’t help but smile back as you made your way out of his driveway and onto the road. He gave your thigh a light squeeze, “Where’s your phone?"

You pointed to the bag sitting at his feet, “Front pocket.”

“I know what'll make you feel better." He dug through the bag trying to find your phone. Once in his hands, he quickly unlocked it and opened your music app. He grabbed the cord connected to your cassette adapter. A soft buzzing filled the cabin before you recognized the familiar sound of a guitar softly picking.

You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. As the song picked up, you and JJ mimicked the drumbeat, slamming your hands on the steering wheel and above the glove compartment respectively. You looked to JJ in anticipation of Mike Shinoda's first verse. JJ was right on cue, his rough voice filled with enthusiasm as he rapped along.

I watch how the moon sits in the sky in the dark night Shining with the light from the sun The sun doesn't give light to the moon assuming The moon's gonna owe it one

You always had a particular music taste, loving almost anything and everything. You were thankful that JJ shared this sentiment. However, there was no denying that Linkin Park was your band, and 'A Place For My Head' was one of your shared favorites off the Hybrid Theory album. The two of you were often heard blasting the song, let alone LP's entire discography, from your truck or the Twinkie. JJ always took Mike's part, rapping smoothly along with the lyrics, while you would scream Chester's parts at the top of your lungs.

Chester’s voice rolled through your speakers and mixed with your voice. You could feel the frustration and pent-up aggression escape with each verse of the chorus.

I wanna be in another place I hate when you say you don't understand (you'll see it's not meant to be) I wanna be in the energy, not with the enemy A place for my head

The bridge of the song hit, and you both were screaming the lyrics with little care for your ears or vocal cords.

You try to take the best of me, go away! You try to take the best of me, go away!

The song faded out, being replaced by your combined laughter as you threw the truck into park.

JJ looked over to you, “Feeling a bit better, kittycat?”

“Maybe a little.” You tried to sound nonchalant, but you knew your smile gave you away.

JJ rolled his eyes, “Sure.” He got out of the truck, practically sprinting over to you, muscled arms pulling you into a tight embrace while his lips pressed lightly against your hair.

“Thank you, JJ,” you whispered before wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning up to kiss his soft lips.

“Any time.”

As always, feedback, likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

OBX Taglist: @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @daisydark

𝑊𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑? 𝐿𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 💜

[florenceafternoon]

━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

Some more AUs I've been loving. I'm trying to alternate between AU and canon verse rec lists so bear with me. Remember that if you like a fic you should definitely let the author know as such.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries on ao3.

theogony by @clare-with-no-i

The trip that Lily Evans expects to go on is the annual pre-dissertation jaunt to Athens with the rest of her Classical Civilizations PhD program. The trip she does not expect to go on is to 479 BCE, right on the cusp of one of the most important battles in the Greco-Persian war. Now, she has to navigate antiquity as she tries to find her way back to the 21st Century, God—or gods—help her.

James wants to win this war. No, James needs to win this war. He is a man of honor and duty, and even if it means dying a gruesome, bloody death, he will go down in history as one of Athens's great warriors. He will suffer no distractions; not even beautiful ones who speak strangely and refuse to listen to his orders.

 -- OR: The Outlander-Meets-Ancient-Greece Jily AU that no one asked for Maya dreams of.

I can't believe it took me this long to read this fic but OH MY GOD!! Clare's writing is phenomenal, I've known this for a while now, but THE DEDICATION TO HISTORICAL ACCURACY, I'm so impressed. If only I could put even half that amount of effort into my major essays for school. EVERYONE GO READ THIS NOW

Sweathearts' Special by @tinyluminaryzombie

What happens when your coffee shop nemesis, asks you to pretend to be a couple?

Or "I’ve been staring at the stupid cupcakes for the past hour, and they look way too good. Anyways, would you be willing to join forces and pretend to be together for the free cupcake and coffee?”

Welcome to Pettyville by @women-inthe-sequel

When Lily Evans accidentally sends a text to the wrong number, she isn’t expecting to find the right person behind it. She can’t stop talking to Prongs. The only thing is, Prongs can’t stop talking about the girl in his class. What could go wrong, other than the number?

A love square but it's just the same two idiots

Tall Dark and Glasses by @jamesunderwater

Tall Dark and Glasses (or TDG as he is more affectionately known) is the mysterious, painfully good-looking stranger who has been frequenting Lily's favourite coffee shop for months now. But despite having an embarrassing acronym for him, Lily, a burned-out STEM major, is too comfortable being a wallflower to go up to him herself. Thank god for playing cards, I guess.

coffee shops and copious amounts of sugar by @mystinkysocks

James decides to finally start revising, the coffee shop he attends introduces him to someone new!

As someone who spends an ungodly amount of time studying in public (at cafés and libraries), all I dream of is to one day live out my very own coffee shop AU

Unlicenced by @ohmygodshesinsane

Lily Evans begrudgingly agrees to get in the car with classmate and sometime-foe James Potter and his not-quite-earned P-plates after a particularly rubbish day.

Drop-Off also by @/ ohmygodshesinsane

James Potter takes Lily Evans home, and wants to make something clear.

Disclaimer that they’re Australian in this AU. You guys don't understand how much Lily Evans means to me. I want to give her a hug.

pretty, pretty boy by rosiemary0 (on ao3)

Pretty face, with golden brown eyes and strong cheekbones (one of which is adorned with a smudge of charcoal). Pretty hands—very, very pretty hands, Lily’s thoughts interject—which hold a jar each, one with water and the other paintbrushes.

Or the one where James is an artist and Lily hates socialising.

I'll Manage by @kaymardsa

James and Lily fall in love during the war.

In which Lily runs a refugee camp and James is an ex-sniper

I can't remember if I've recommended this fic already but again I recently re-read it and wanted to share

'Tis the Fucking Season by @thequibblah

Six-year absences. Yearly photograph burnings (figuratively). Low-cut tops. Two nosebleeds. Little red notebooks. The Past, with a capital P. The desire to pour your heart out to strangers (maybe pathologically). The desire to do unspeakably bad things to one James Potter. These are the ingredients that make up Lily Evans's holiday season.

Shelby the cabbie is in for a fucking ride.

I have been searching for this fic for two months and nearly gave up. An absolute classic that everyone should read!!

Two's a Crowd also by @/ thequibblah

Regency AU in which "the only thing Lily Evans can share with the Earl of Devon is a healthy dose of mutual dislike."

In Search of Something More by @kay-elle-cee

In the sunlit garden of her sister’s home, Lord Potter had promised Lily a life of her own design, with minimal expectations—her presence at community events, companionship, and an heir. As the two stumble into the routine of marriage and work to make a life together at Stinchcombe Hall, unsolicited feelings provoke each to start wondering if this is merely a marriage…or if it could be something more.

No, I will not shut up about this fic. Anything that Kelsey writes is bound to be amazing but this one holds a special place in my heart. Note that this is an ongoing fic though. I tend to recommend completed works but this one is too good not to include.

Pinkest Bluestocking of the Ton by @wearingaberetinparis 

Dearest Reader, the ton are abuzz with the latest gossip, and so it is my honour to impart to you the news that the Duke of Peverell has returned to London at last! A year after setting off on his tour of Europe, Lady Peverell's son has returned and rumour has it that his mother is preparing for the most joyous of occasions: a late summer wedding that sees her son wed the next Duchess of Peverell. It is my sincere hope that you have stored a bottle of wine for this most delightful of upcoming events for if ever there were a more determined mama, this writer is Icarus and this society paper has been scorched for flying too close to the sun.

A Jily Regency Romance inspired by Shondaland's "Bridgerton".

Again this is an ongoing fic, but it's too good not to include in this rec list! I haven’t caught up with all the chapters yet but I love the story so far!

A Heart of Coal also by @/ wearingaberetinparis

They say fortune favours the bold, yet Lily Evans was given her death sentence at seventeen. As soon as midnight strikes on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, her heart will turn to coal. Gryffindor knight James Potter, however, is the last to accept such a fate. For while Lily Evans’ curse foretells her death, his foreshadows a life without his unrequited true love at his side.

Fairytale AU in which the love is requited they're just idiots

Three Lemons and a Dragon by @thelighthousestale

Once upon a time, there lived a Prince named James who had to save his father's Kingdom by getting married. One day an older woman gifts him three lemons that will lead him to his true love.

Dillweed in a Fancy Metal Can by @eastwindmlk

When Lily gets dragged to a Renaissance Faire, she reluctantly agreed to go to the jousting event where she is pulled into the show against her will, or is it?

Lily represents me

Queen Foxtail also by @/ eastwindmlk

Once Upon A Time...

There was an arrogant prince who turned down every suitable match and drove his parents to do something drastic. Marry him off to the next merchant that steps through their gates.

across the universe by rcdwings (on ao3)

“So, you’re saying that in these other worlds, James Potter and Lily Evans exist, too?”

She hadn’t expected to hear that, hadn’t even thought about it that way. She was too busy thinking about if in those other worlds, she and her friends could be seventeen and free instead of the war torn teenagers they were. Now that he’d put it that way, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander.

“I would assume so,” she swallowed. “Not sure what we would be like, though.”

A beat, then a soft hum. “Anything,” he smiled at her, “There are countless worlds, right? We could be anything.”

only love can hurt like this by @fireblts 

Lily doesn’t quite know everything, but it feels pretty close.

The main thing she still doesn’t get is soulmates. Love doesn’t seem like something that should be painful. Or rather, love seems like it’s painful enough on its own without any help.

Soulmate AU - whenever your soulmate is hurt or in pain, you can feel it too.

Soulmate AUs are my comfort genre of fics. I haven't been feeling to well lately and rediscovering this fic was a delight

The Librarian of Hogsmeade Village by @ohmygodshesinsane

Lily's work as a librarian in the small village of Hogsmeade has kept her occupied for the past six years, forever keeping the wheels of the town on the track. As the holidays approach, she prepares to settle in with a nice mug of tea and a well-thumbed old book. When a new resident and his son arrive at her weekly story-reading, with cheeky smiles and big hearts, those plans are tossed out the window in favour of chasing love, for once - not escaping it.

Lily living the cozy life of my dreams. I think it's well known by now that I love reading about single parents and well James with his baby boy always puts a smile on my face.

Spitting Image by @charmsandtealeaves

James Potter always knew he wanted to build a family, he just hadn’t found the right person to build it with - yet. Freezing his sperm at Gringotts Sperm Bank was a no-brainer really. He’d have children when he found the right person, and now he had an insurance policy. Then Lily Evans walked into his place of work with her son - the spitting image of him.

linking this art that the talented @constancezin drew inspired by this fic

Every time I see that Ray has updated, reading the new chapter becomes the highlight of my day

The Stag Prince Across The Sea also by @/ charmsandtealeaves

The realm of Hogwarts had lived for decades in a carefully negotiated harmony between the leaders of the four clans. However, when the time came for son to marry daughter, the Slytherin King refused to offer his daughter's hand to any of the other grand houses’ suitors. As the Slytherin King departed the shore, bound for the ship that would allow him to escape across the Green Sea, he cast a curse on the great families.

“Let ye be marked. Marred by tooth, hoof, and claw. May your sons never be fit for any bride!”

Slytherin invoked an ancient magic, which transformed each family's eldest son into creatures under the light of the full moon. The Kings searched far and wide for a cure to no avail while trying to keep secret the wrong that had been done to them. Years passed and with them grew a sense of unrest, a kingdom on the precipice of collapse...

what love is, I think by @potterandevans-blog-blog

It's James Potter's birthday, his nineteenth to be exact. Some people, if they're lucky, find a tattoo on their back on their nineteenth birthday, a tattoo that can help them discover their soulmate. And if the antlers on his back are anything to go by, James might just have a soulmate of his own out there, somewhere.

oil be there for you by @abby10fanfic

Texting/Social Media AU: Lily and James haven't spoken for 2 years. But that's all about to change thanks to Peter and his involvement in an essential oil pyramid scheme. Featuring boss babes, toxin-free lifestyles, binding contracts, and a very oily journey.

[hearts-hunger]

Read on AO3 | Masterlist

Summary: Under the soft glow of the purple Halloween lights, Danny is sweet to you like he always is. || Sequel to Kitkat and Honeyglow

Pairings: Danny x Reader | Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort | Word Count: 2.4k | Warnings: drinking, smoking, mentions of wacky tobaccy, me not knowing anything actually about tarot cards (sorry)

A/N: Everyone say thank you to @spark-my-nature and go look lovingly upon this Kitkat 'verse Danny fanart she made that made me cry!!! Every Danny and Kitkat fic is dedicated especially to Miranda now :) I have at least one more fic for these two sweeties up my sleeve this spooky season, and I hope you like this short little fic! ♡

“Damn, Jake, how much tequila did you put in this?”

Jake laughed when you winced after the first sip of your drink, clinking his solo cup against yours.

“Beats me, kitkat,” he said. “You know I measure liquor with my heart.”

“Should start measuring with your liver,” you said, taking another drink anyway. “Lordy. I'm gonna be slap-out drunk after one drink.”

He cackled. “Slap out? That's weird. You're funny, honey.”

You grinned at the sloppy kiss he bestowed on your cheek as he went to rejoin the party, knowing Jake was well on his way to being slap-out drunk already. Most of the partygoers were in various states of intoxication, whether from the counter littered with half-empty bottles of booze or the weed that was being “discreetly” smoked in the back yard. One of the boys' friends had planned this bash to celebrate the beginning of the season at the haunted house attraction they worked for; this was sort of their last hoorah before nights and weekends became dedicated to scaring the bejeezus out of people for the next two months. You knew your boys were looking forward to getting back to work, and even though you weren't the biggest fan of haunted houses, you were happy to come and celebrate this year's reign of terror on the folks of your small town. 

You fished a Corona out of the cooler and went in search of your boyfriend, weaving through rooms filled with people talking and laughing and singing along to the Ghostbusters theme song playing at a blinding volume. Some were dressed in their costumes for work, getting in the spirit of things, and you politely sidestepped a ghoul and an undead nurse making out in the hallway. You spotted Danny in the living room, sporting a black hoodie and a backwards ball cap that somehow managed to tame his thick head of curls. He was talking animatedly to Sam, who was giving him a vaguely drunk but comically serious look of attention and consideration.

You'd almost made it to them when somebody in a clown mask started razzing the crowd, hollering and getting up in their faces. They all seemed to like it — it was just another day at the office for them, after all — but you stumbled back a little when he turned to you and held his hands up as if to snatch you.

“Hey, Bri, easy on the fright night with my kitkat.”

Your boyfriend’s kind reminder from behind you had Brian backing off with an applogetic laugh.

“Sorry, kid,” he said, muffled through his mask. “Forgot you weren't into all this. My bad.”

“That’s okay,” you said with a smile, thankful for the quick response. The actors who worked at the haunted house were very good about keeping things light and fun for all thresholds of thrill-seeking, even those as low as yours. Still, Danny's hand on your waist was a welcome comfort as Brian went off to scare somebody else.

“Thanks,” you said, turning to Danny. “I guess I should be used to this sort of thing by now.”

He smiled. “No sweat, kitkat. Brian's just funning you, but it's okay if you don't like it.”

You handed him his beer, and he accepted it with a word of thanks.

“This is my last one tonight, though,” he said, looking at your cup with a wry smile. “Somebody’s gotta drive us home, and if you're drinking some shit Jake made, no way should you be behind the wheel.”

Sam held out his hand for a taste of his brother's concoction, and when you let him have some, he coughed and spluttered.

“God damn, kitkat,” he said as you and Danny laughed. “You’re gonna be on the floor after that.”

“That’s the plan, Sammy boy,” you said cheerfully. You knocked back another swig and shuddered with the acrid taste. “Goes down real smooth.”

Danny chuckled and hugged you close to his side. “Having fun, kitkat?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “Are you?”

He hummed in agreement around a sip of his beer. “It’s fun to be back with everybody. It's gonna be a good season, I think.”

The music crescendoed, almost rattling the windows with the volume of the synth.

“Do you know who you are yet?” you asked.

Danny leaned closer to hear you over the noise. “Do I know what?”

You stood on tiptoe and leaned on his arm. “Do you know what part you're playing yet? At work?”

He nodded. “Ah. Yeah. Werewolf again. It was such a big hit last year that they want to keep it around.”

You gave him a cheeky smile and a kiss. “It was a big hit for me too.”

He pinked a little, liking the compliment and the reminder of how you'd met. 

“Glad you're happy, sweetheart,” he said, a little bashful. 

Some of his friend wanted him to play a game of darts with them, and you stole one last kiss before you sent him on his way. You knew enough of his coworkers to hang out on your own, and the Kiszkas were milling around somewhere; you went to mingle and talk to some of the friends you'd made over the last year as you'd frequented the haunted house in the off season of repairs and updates.

Cindy, one of the girls who’d worked the zombie maze last year, took you by the arm and let you to where she and a couple other girls were messing around with tarot cards in the dining room.

“Your turn, kitkat,” she said, ushering you into the chair at the table laid with cards and fairy lights. “Time to seek your fortune.”

The girl telling fortunes shuffled the cards and fumbled a few with tipsy hands, and you laughed.

“Off to a good start, I see,” you teased.

“Just you wait,” she said with a grin. She laid three cards in front of you, and you watched curiously as she presented the lovers upside down, the tower, and the moon.

Your draw earned a low chorus of “oohs” from the girls around you. You didn't have the slightest idea what the cards meant and looked around at their faces to see what you could glean from their expressions.

“Bad news?” you asked.

Cindy gave you an uncertain gesture with her cup. “Dunno, kitkat. Looks like your love life is gonna get fucked up, your carefully laid plans are gonna get blown to shit, and you're in for some fear and confusion.”

“Aw, what the fuck?” you protested with a laugh. “Gimme some new ones. I don't like those.”

She waggled her fingers at you. “The cards tell all, babe. Better get with it.”

You let someone else have a turn, and though you enjoyed spending time with your friends, you couldn't help thinking about the cards you'd been given. You didn't want your love life to implode; you liked it just the way it was. 

When the girls pulled out a Ouija board, you declined being haunted and excused yourself to find Danny again. He was out on the porch, smoking a cigarette and finishing off his beer; you snuggled close to him in the chilly night air, thankful for his warmth.

“Saw you in there with Cindy,” he said. His handsome features were sharp in the purple lights strung overhead. “What were y’all getting into?”

“The future,” you said mysteriously.

He smiled. “Oh yeah? What'd you find out?”

You downed the last of your drink. “Well, we're about to break up, and then I'm gonna explode and die, probably.”

He laughed. “Well damn, honey. Is that all?”

“That’s all she wrote,” you agreed. 

He leaned his elbows on the railing, looking out at the spooky decorations in the yard, and you hugged his arm.

“Dan?”

“Hm?”

“I don't wanna break up and explode and die.”

He turned his face to yours, nudging the bridge of his nose against your cheek. “We’re not gonna break up, kitkat.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, half-serious. Maybe — certainly — it was the alcohol making your head fuzzy and your emotions wobbly, and you knew you were worried way too much about some drunken tarot reading that none of you had done correctly anyway. But you still wanted reassurance, and as he always did, Danny gave of his kindness and patience very generously.

“Kitkat,” he said gently. He brushed his thumb over your cheek. “I’m sure, sweetheart. I'd have to tear my heart out to ever live without you. You hear me?”

You blossomed under his touch, leaning close. “I hear you. I love you, Danny.”

He kissed you, and you felt his smile. “I love you, my sweet kitkat.”

You shared a cigarette under the soft violet lights, talking about the upcoming season and your plans for your anniversary that was only a few weeks away. 

“I think we should make it official and start a family,” he said.

You blushed, partly out of surprise and partly out of some insane pleasure at the idea. Of course you weren't ready for kids and he was only messing with you, but you didn't mind the thought of starting a family with him one day.

“Little Danny junior, huh?” you teased gently.

He grinned. “Later, kitkat. Let me marry you first. But maybe we could get a puppy and start practicing.”

You laughed. “Okay, honey. I like that idea. And the one about you marrying me.”

He pulled you snug against him. “I’m working on it. But, you know, rings that a haunted house actor and part time drummer can afford are kinda scarce.”

You slipped your hand under the purple lights on the railing and showed him a light resting on your ring finger.

“There,” you said. “Found a free one.”

He chuckled and kissed you. “You sure are silly, kitkat. I love you. And your free ring. It's very generous of you to find one.”

“Just doing my part,” you said, smiling up at him. You untangled your hand from the lights to brush your fingers over the curls that peeked out from his ball cap. “I love you too.”

When you ventured back to the party, you found that most everybody had settled out in the back yard for a showing of some horror movie on the projector. You and Danny found a spot on the grass to watch, and the Kiszkas joined you. You hoped it would turn out to be a slasher, since you were getting braver with that kind of scary flick, but you quickly found out it was something about ghosts or demons; you didn't watch it closely enough to find out. You hadn't quite gotten over your innate scaredy-cat nature to handle that kind of movie yet. Danny was absorbed in the movie and talking to the boys about it as they all enjoyed it, so he didn't notice that you were hiding behind your hands for a large portion of it.

Halfway through, when the movie was paused to let people refill drinks and snacks, Danny did lean over to check on you.

“How’s it going?” he asked. “This one’s not so bad, is it?”

“Um...” You didn't want to spoil something he was obviously enjoying, but you’d just about reached your limit for terror, even on a movie he thought was tame.

His expression softened with chagrin and worry. “Aw, honey. You don't like it, do you?”

His understanding made you brave enough to tell him the truth. “Not... not really,” you said apologetically. “I’m sorry, Danny.”

He shook his head. “You don't have to apologize, kitkat. I'm sorry I didn't notice earlier. We can go home if you want.”

You looked up as he stood. “Are you sure? I don't mind staying if you want to finish the movie.”

He offered you a hand up. “I don't want to stay if it's scaring you, honey. I'm happy to go home if you're ready.”

You took his hand, grateful for his kindness to you, and you said your goodbyes to the Kiszkas and the rest of your friends. The boys gave you some ribbing about still being a scaredy-cat, but you knew it was in good fun.

On the way home, you and Danny stopped to get something to eat and ended up camped out in the living room at the house he shared with the Kiszkas. You divvied up your Taco Bell orders as Danny queued something up on the tv.

“I think this one's a little more your speed, kitkat,” he said. “But you let me know if it’s too scary.”

The opening to Halloweentown started to play, and you nudged your elbow against his ribs and earned a sweet little giggle.

“Sorry, kitkat. I’m only teasing.”

He consoled you with a kiss, and as you sat together and enjoyed the movie that was indeed much more your taste, you found yourself watching him more than your were watching the movie. 

He chewed on his straw. “What?” He offered you his Baja Blast. “You want some?”

You smiled. “No, but thank you. I’m just admiring my lovely boyfriend.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I'm a real hunk eatin’ my weight in tacos and nacho fries.”

You patted his shoulder. “I like a man with a healthy appetite.”

He laughed and gave you a goofy smooch. “Good to know, baby.”

You broke out the candy after a while, grabbing a bag of the fun-sized Skittles and Hershey bars you’d been planning to save for trick or treaters in your more proactive moments. But you could buy more, and the boyish smile on Danny’s face when you tossed the bag in his lap was priceless.

“See, this is why I keep you around,” he said. He fished out a candy for you. “Your special candy, my sweetheart.”

You smiled when you took the Kit-Kat that looked impossibly small in his big hand. “Thanks, honey. I guess it is my special candy, isn't it?”

You broke off half of it and gave it back to him. 

“I didn't mean for you to share it with me,” he said, amused and kind. “But thank you.”

You gave him a quick kiss, candy-sweet and full of the easy love you shared, and he smiled as he pulled you close and deepened it.

“I love you, kitkat,” he said. “You know that, don't you?”

There was no way for you not to know. In his kindness and patience, his selflessness and sweet nature, Danny showed you he loved you until you thought your heart would burst with it.

“Yeah,” you said softly. You smiled. “I know it. I love you too.”

taglist: @viagvf @allieisacrybaby @itsafullmoon @spark-my-nature @anthemheatwave @xserenax-13 @musicspeaks @mountain-in-springtime @stardustsecret @alwaysonthemend @madneedshelp @josh-iamyour-mama @dannythedog @thecoldwind @woyayaofdreams @joshkiszkapunchmeintheface @lostoverseer @jakesguitarpick @heartcannotsow @kissingkiszka @gold-mines-melting @lizzys-sunflower @iluvjoshkiszka @musicislove3389

join my taglist here!

(tumblr is awful at making tags work so i’m sorry if you’re not getting notifications!)

[gffa]

Over the last week, I decided to go ahead with bookmarking all the fics I've recommended over the years on AO3 since I abide by tumblr poll results always (and man pour one out for all the fic that never made it to AO3 or has since been deleted, sooooo many gems lost to time!) and it was a bit more than the ~3,000 I was expecting:

Hopefully, this will be easier than browsing the hundreds of recs posts I've made, since you can filter for any of the author's tags now! These are mostly focused on Star Wars and DC fandom, but I did my time in the anime mines and occasional tours through some TV fandoms or movies. You can dig into everything unfiltered and start your own filtering, or the bigger fandoms you'll find:

MAJOR FANDOMS: Each of these should have 100+ at minimum and, in the case of Star Wars, literally almost half of them are in that fandom. Look, Star Wars fandom might be a trash fire in a lot of ways, but it is ON FIRE with some good fic. (Older bookmarks not guaranteed to match my current sentiments, especially re: the Jedi, but they did catch my fancy at that point in time!)

STAR WARS: - All Star Wars -OR- All Star Wars minus the Obi-Wan/Anakin ship - OR- Nothing BUT Obi-Wan/Anakin

BATMAN/DC: - DC can sometimes be tricky, but you can do a Batman* search and get most of them (though, sometimes Nightwing* or Young Justice* or Superman* will catch some of the others). Honestly, though, you might want to just do a search for what character or dynamic you like and have fun from there, because otherwise you're getting a face full of my Dick Grayson Is The Center Of The Universe And I'm Making That Everyone Else's Problem agenda. ;)

MARVEL/MCU: - Marvel* will probably get most of the various properties, though you may want to filter for Defenders* or Guardians of the Galaxy* if you're interested -OR- Marvel* without the Thor/Loki - These focus a lot on the Thor* fandom if you want to witness the results of like 8 years of constant voracious reading in that fandom (Minus the ship), because, seriously, I read a LOT of Odinson family fic. - Bonus, just do a search for Maximoff* to find some really good X-Men: First Class-verse because, listen, I have been ALL ABOUT the Maximoff twins since long before the movies or MCU brought them over and I will DIE ON THE HILL of "Marvel, make Magneto their bio-dad again or I'm never reading another comic of yours ever".

TOLKIEN/LORD OF THE RINGS/SILMARILLION/HOBBIT: - Tolkien* -OR- Hobbit* -OR- Lord of the Rings* searches will turn up most of my Elf-hunting, I primarily focus on the Sindar Elves, but look I can't resist my problematic Feanorian faves or that I will die on the hill that Fingolfin is the best ever. (You have NO IDEA how sad I am that so much fic on Stories of Arda or FFNET is not easily bookmarked on AO3, sob. I externally bookmarked a few of the bigger ones, but sooo many shorter faves are missing from my recs tag.)

CLAMP: - X/Tokyo Babylon legitimately bums me out because it's not a huge fandom and yet so much of what was written was pre-AO3 and lost when CLAMPesque went down or was never brought over from Livejournal, yet this fandom (well, the Seishirou/Subaru pairing) still burns brightly in my heart.

MINOR FANDOMS: Ones that probably only have under 100 bookmarks (often around the 20-30 bookmarks range), but will at least give you a place to start! ANIME/MANGA: Bleach | Cardcaptor Sakura | Dragonball | Finder no Hyouteki/Viewfinder | Katekyou Hitman Reborn! | Kuroko no Basuke | One Piece | Sailor Moon | Madoka Magica | Naruto | Princess Tutu | Trigun | Weiss Kreuz | Yuri!!! on Ice

BOOKS: Chrestomanci | Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint

DRAMAS: Nirvana in Fire | The Untamed -OR- Modao Zu Shi

TV SHOWS/MOVIES: Community | Game of Thrones -OR- ASOIAF | Good Omens | Hannibal | Highlander | The Old Guard | Our Flag Means Death | Stranger Things

VIDEO GAMES: Dragon Age: Inquisition | Final Fantasy 8 | Genshin Impact | Okami

BANDS: Arashi

All right, whew, that was actually a fun project, despite how much work it was to hunt down a lot of older faves to see if they were on AO3, hopefully you'll find this useful!