#so um. like a solid day of work later

[ranvwoop]

LOOK AT HIM

[pucksandpower]

Rockabye Baby

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: you and Oscar take the next step in building your family … just not in the way that anyone expected

Note: I really wanted to get something silly and cute posted for Mother’s Day — and so this was born! I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it 🫶

You snuggle closer to Oscar in bed, resting your head on his chest as his fingers lazily trail up and down your arm. It’s been an exhausting few weeks on the road, with races back-to-back, but these quiet moments together make it all worth it.

“Osc?” You murmur sleepily. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course, babe.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Anything.”

You hesitate, not sure if you should broach the subject. But you’ve been together for years now, surely he’s thought about it too? “Have you ever, you know … thought about having kids?”

Oscar tenses slightly, his fingers stilling on your skin. “Kids?”

“Yeah.” You prop yourself up on one elbow to study his face. “We’re not getting any younger. And I know racing is your whole life, but … I don’t know, I think you’d make an amazing dad.”

A small smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “You do, huh?” His fingers resume their gentle stroking along your arm. “I can’t lie, the idea terrifies me. All the responsibility, the pressure ...” He blows out a long breath. “But with you by my side? I think we could make it work.”

Hope blooms in your chest and you lean in to kiss him, long and lingering. “Really? You mean that?”

“Well, not right this second.” He chuckles, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “But someday? Definitely.”

You beam at him, buzzing with a childlike excitement you haven’t felt in years. “Oscar Piastri, future father. I can’t wait.”

He pulls you close, tucking you under his chin. “Me neither. Now get some rest, yeah? Big day tomorrow.”

You hum contentedly, letting his steady heartbeat lull you toward sleep. Kids with Oscar … you can’t imagine anything better.

A few days later, you’re curled up on the sofa after a long day of work, idly scrolling through your phone while Oscar pads around the flat. He’s been oddly restless and fidgety all evening, but you’ve learned not to question his little quirks. He’ll open up when he’s ready.

“So,” he begins, sinking onto the couch beside you with an adorably nervous expression. “You know how the other night you mentioned, um … wanting to be a mum someday?”

You perk up instantly, setting your phone aside as your pulse kicks up a notch. “Yeah?”

“Well.” He ducks his head shyly, then pulls something from behind his back — a small, smooth rock, painted in garish shades of papaya. “I got you this.”

You blink at him. “A … rock?”

“It’s our baby!” He thrusts it toward you proudly. “See, I’m the dad now. Taking those first steps.”

A startled laugh bubbles up from your chest. “Oscar, you dork. That’s the cutest, most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Too much?” He grimaces, though his eyes are twinkling with barely contained mirth. “I just thought, you know, we could start small. Get used to the idea before, uh, before anything bigger.”

“Oh my god, I love you.” You take the rock from his hand, cradling it tenderly as you peck his cheek. “Hi there, little guy. Hope you don’t mind a slightly non-traditional family.”

“Not at all.” Oscar drapes his arm around your shoulders as you lean into his side. “We’ll just raise him to be open-minded and accepting. Like his mum.”

“His mum who gave birth to him in pebble form, you mean?”

Oscar shrugs unapologetically. “He’ll be the talk of the playground.”

You dissolve into helpless giggles, nestling even closer. “This is certifiably insane, you know that? I can’t believe we’re grown adults playing house with a pet rock.”

“Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.” Oscar nuzzles into the crook of your neck, warm and solid against you. “We’re new parents. We can do whatever we want.”

Over the next few days, Rocky, as you’ve lovingly dubbed him, becomes a constant presence. You bring him along when you travel to the next race, introducing him proudly to the team. Lando takes one look and bursts out laughing.

“What the bloody hell is that thing?”

“Our son,” Oscar says with a straight face. “Would you like to meet your nephew?”

“You two are properly mental.” But there’s an unmistakable fondness in Lando’s smile as he gently pokes at Rocky. “S’pose he takes after his dad, eh?”

You crack up at the offended look on Oscar’s face. “Oh, trust me, I’ll be handling most of the heavy lifting around here.”

From there, it only escalates. Rocky gets his own tiny race suit, his own seat in Oscar’s car (firmly buckled in, of course — safety first). You find yourself referring to him with increasingly outlandish endearments.

“Here, let me get the handsomest stone in the whole wide world a bottle before we try tummy time.”

“How’s my little pebble today? Did you sleep okay in your bassinet?”

Logan nearly falls over laughing the first time he sees Rocky strapped into a miniature car seat on the plane between races.

“You guys are too much, man.” He shakes his head in bewildered amusement. “Where do you even find stuff like that?”

Oscar smirks. “Parents have their ways.”

The joke takes on a life of its own, morphing from a silly gag into a full-blown inside joke, an ever-present reminder that someday, when you’re both ready, you really will have a baby of your own to dote on. For now, though, raising Rocky together is more than enough.

It really hits you one evening as the team celebrates Oscar’s latest podium finish. You’re sitting with a small group, letting the lively chatter of friends and team members wash over you, when you become aware of Oscar sitting across from you. He’s got Rocky nestled in the crook of his elbow, cooing nonsense as he gently jostles him.

“Who’s a good little guy? You are, that’s who. Gonna grow up big and strong like your dad, yeah?” His expression is so tender, so achingly soft, that you feel your heart swell fit to burst.

He’s going to be an incredible father someday, you realize with a jolt of startling clarity. Look at how natural it comes to him, how happy and content he seems, just cradling that silly rock.

Later that night, you find yourself curled around Oscar in bed, trailing feather-light kisses along the line of his throat. He hums deep in his chest, tangling one hand in your hair to tug you closer.

“Mmm, what was that for?”

“Nothing.” You prop your chin on his chest, drinking in the achingly handsome lines of his face. “You just … you’re gonna be such an amazing dad, you know that?”

A bashful smile tugs at his lips as his free hand smooths along the curve of your hip. “Yeah? You really think so?”

“I know so.” You reach out to trace the sharp line of his jaw with one fingertip. “Any kid would be lucky to have you.”

Oscar’s gaze softens to molten gold in the dim light. “Not nearly as lucky as we are to have you. You’re the best mum Rocky could’ve asked for.”

He kisses you then, deep and searing, pulling you flush against him as the world around you falls away. And when he finally breaks away, breathless but beaming, you know without a shadow of a doubt:

Whenever the time comes, whenever you meet your real baby … everything is going to be okay. More than okay.

Because you’ll have Oscar by your side, just like always. Your partner, your best friend, and the love of your life.

***

Five Years Later

You cradle your newborn daughter to your chest, gazing down at her perfect little face in pure wonderment. It’s only been a few hours since she made her entrance into the world, but you’re already hopelessly in love.

“She’s beautiful,” Oscar murmurs, voice thick with unshed tears as he brushes one reverent fingertip along her downy cheek. “Just like her mum.”

You lean into him, overcome. This right here — the two of you and your brand new baby girl — is everything you’ve ever wanted. All those years of loving Oscar, of dreaming about starting a family together … it was all leading to this shining moment.

A soft knock at the door breaks the tranquil silence. Oscar shoots you a quizzical look as a familiar face pokes his head in.

“This a bad time?” Lando grins crookedly. “I come bearing gifts for the little one.”

“Lando!” You can’t help but beam at the sight of your friend. “Get in here, you muppet.”

He slips inside, toeing off his shoes with a cheeky wink in your direction. “Well someone’s in a good mood. Can’t imagine why.”

“Are you kidding? I’m amazing. Completely knackered, but amazing.” You gesture for him to come closer with your free hand. “Here, come meet Oscar’s little co-driver.”

Lando’s expression melts into something unbearably soft as he peers down at the tiny bundle in your arms. “Aww, mate … she’s perfect. Well done, you two.”

“Do you, uh ...” Oscar clears his throat gruffly. “D’you want to hold her?”

For a moment, Lando looks almost scared, like a deer caught in the headlights. Then he nods jerkily, settling into the bedside chair with surprising care as you transfer your daughter into his arms. He cradles her close with the utmost tenderness, rocking her ever so slightly as she lets out the faintest sigh.

“Look at you,” he breathes, sounding utterly besotted already. “Just a teeny little thing, aren’t you?”

It’s like seeing an entirely different side of him, one you never could have anticipated. Not the cheeky, irreverent joker you’ve known for years, but a man, a friend, wholly disarmed by new life and possibility. You exchange a look with Oscar, heart fit to bursting.

“So,” Lando continues, still totally entranced by the baby. “I know we ribbed you mercilessly for a while there about the whole rock baby thing ...”

Your mouth falls open in recollection. “Lando, please don’t-”

But he’s already reaching into his jacket pocket to pull out a familiar splash of textured papaya. “But there’s no way I’d let my favorite nephew miss out on this.”

Rocky, battered and faded but unmistakable, sits nestled in Lando’s palm. You nearly choke on a startled laugh.

“Are you kidding me right now?”

“Hold up, there’s more.” Lando somehow manages to keep cradling the baby with one arm as he bends down with the other, hauling a plastic bucket onto the bed. You gape at the contents — dozens upon dozens of smooth pebbles, each one lovingly decorated in bright shades of orange.

“Had to get the whole family involved, didn’t I?” Lando says with a shameless grin. “She’s got loads of brothers and sisters to look after her now.”

You swat at him in a flood of exasperated affection. “You absolute prick. Look at you, being all sentimental.”

“Me? Never.” But the shine of unshed tears in his eyes contradicts the words. He transfers the baby back to you with exaggerated care, then takes a moment to stroke one gentle finger along her tiny cheek. “You’ve got one hell of a village behind you, little one.”

Over the next short while, Lando pulls up a chair and regales you all with outrageous stories and anecdotes, all while Rocky and his “siblings“ make the rounds, passed from person to person like favorite old friends. At one point, Oscar’s cradling your human baby in one arm and your original baby rock in the other, murmuring nonsense to them both as you blink back tears for what feels like the thousandth time that day.

“Look at you,” you say in awe, drinking in the sight. “My little family.”

Oscar meets your gaze over the top of your daughter’s head, his own eyes shining. “Our family,” he corrects softly.

You’re still reveling in that realization when a quiet knock sounds at the door. A nurse bustles in with an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry, but we’re going to need to move the baby to the nursery soon. Just for a little while to let mum rest.”

Oh. You clutch your daughter closer on instinct, chest caving with an aching reluctance you weren’t expecting. How can you possibly bear to let her go already?

But then Lando slips an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a warm embrace. “Oi, it’s alright. We’ll keep an eye on her for you, yeah? Give Uncle Lando and Mini Piastri some quality time.”

Rocky sits nestled in his other palm, as stalwart and patient as ever even after all these years. You nod quickly, swiping at your damp cheeks as you kiss your daughter’s downy head one last time before relinquishing her to the nurse.

“I’ll be right back, sweet girl. Don’t go growing too much while I’m gone.”

Watching her get wheeled away is harder than you could have imagined, like a physical ache in your chest. Oscar wraps you up in his arms from behind, steadying you with his usual quiet strength.

“She’s okay, babe,” he murmurs, lips brushing your hairline. “She’s just down the hall. We’re not going anywhere.”

You let his soothing words wash over you, turning into his embrace until your breathing evens out again. First lesson of parenthood learned — this part’s not easy. But you’ll get through it, just like everything else, with Oscar by your side.

Rocky sits on the bedside table, bold colors slightly faded but message as bright and clear as ever. A reminder that sometimes, the smallest, silliest things can take on the biggest meaning when it comes to family.

“Alright lovebirds,” Lando pipes up, slinging an arm around each of your shoulders. “What d’you say we bring the whole crew down to see the little miss soon, eh? Give her many uncles a chance to swoon all over her?”

You manage a watery chuckle, leaning into Lando’s side as Oscar tucks himself against your other side. Because this? This little patchwork family you’ve built around yourselves, kept close through all the chaos and the years? This is what it’s all about. The fierce loyalty, the bond forged by adversity and triumph and teamwork. The family you’ve chosen over and over again, year after year, through all of life’s twists and turns.

Your eyes drift to Rocky, resting quietly on the nightstand by your hospital bed. Once an inside joke, a silly gift from your husband to make you smile. Now a treasured heirloom, a precious mascot for the latest member of your ever-expanding clan.

Maybe you’ll hold onto that little rock for another few decades, you muse, draping one arm around Oscar’s trim waist. Long enough for your daughter — and any other little ones who may eventually join her — to grow up passing him between chubby baby fists. Long enough for your grandchildren to gather around and listen to stories about.

“Come on then,” you’ll say with an indulgent smile. “Let Granny tell you the story of Rocky. How he was the very first baby in our little family ...”

***

r/offmychest

u/NumberOneRockHater · 9h

My parents and entire family are convinced a ROCK is my older brother!

Okay, I have to get this off my chest because it’s been driving me crazy for years. My parents and extended family are all obsessed with this rock that they insist is my older brother “Rocky” (ugh, I know).

I’m talking full-on delusion levels here. Ever since before I was born, my dad got my mom this painted rock as a joke “baby”. Well, the joke escalated to the point where they started taking this rock everywhere, dressing it up in little outfits, calling it “him”, the whole nine yards.

At first I thought it was just a weird little quirk, you know? Silly but harmless. Except it never stopped. I’m 16 years old now and my PARENTS STILL REFER TO THIS ROCK AS MY SIBLING.

It’s always “Where’s your brother?” and “Did you pack Rocky’s bag for our trip?” and “Don’t forget to wish your brother a happy birthday!” My uncle (who is the WORST enabler) will show up to every family event pulling more painted rocks out of his pockets like “Look, more kids for you guys!”

Meanwhile I’m just standing there like a crazy person. How is nobody else concerned that my entire family has deluded themselves into believing a literal inanimate object is a sentient being?

And the real kicker? This dumb rock has been passed around and adored more than me, an actual human child. I have clear memories of being like 6 years old and my parents getting legitimately UPSET at me for dropping Rocky on the ground. While I’m standing right there!

My dad loves telling this stupid story about the day I was born, how my uncle showed up at the hospital like “I brought the baby’s siblings!” and pulled out an entire bucket of painted pebbles. PEBBLES, PEOPLE. As my “brothers and sisters”?

I’m honestly losing my mind here. No matter how much I protest or roll my eyes, they always play it off as a silly inside joke. Like yeah, I’m sure getting your knickers in a twist over my lack of acknowledgment for THE ROCK YOU NAMED AND CLAIM IS MY SIBLING is a totally normal thing to do! My mum actually teared up the last time I put my foot down, saying she could never abandon her “firstborn.” Um, hello? I was the firstborn, you weirdos!

At this point, I have to assume that either A) My parents and family are all certifiable and living in a shared psychosis, or B) This is some sort of Truman Show situational prank that I’m not in on.

Is it too late to be adopted by a normal family? Or do I need to be the one committed for dealing with this nonsense?

Please tell me I’m not actually going insane here. Anybody else have a family this completely deluded?

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u/NosyAndProud · 8h

LOL no way, your family sounds hilarious! I’m dying at the image of your poor teen self dealing with this ongoing rocky sibling chronicle. But in their defense, you’ve gotta admit it’s a pretty creative way to memorialize a dumb inside joke, right?

My advice? Lean into it. Get your big brother an outfit for the next family gathering. Play fight with “him” in front of your friends and horrify them. TP the house and blame it on Rocky’s delinquent behavior. The possibilities for messing with everyone are endless!

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Reply from u/NumberOneRockHater · 6h

I’m honestly crying, your suggestions have me wheezing! Although if I DID embrace this, I’m pretty sure my uncle would lose his mind. He’s already brought enough “rock siblings” for an entire pebble daycare at this point.

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u/JudgingLoudly · 7h

This is sending me! I’m just imagining you as a little kid, trying to argue with your parents about why inanimate objects can’t actually be siblings. And them being full-on “Well ackshually, this is Rocky your brother” 🤓☝️

But also lowkey it’s kinda sweet? I mean objectifying nonliving things is usually a bad idea (see every Disney movie ever). But if it’s just a quirky tradition that brings your family joy and makes them feel special, who are we to judge? You only get one weird childhood!

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Reply from u/NumberOneRockHater · 5h

Yes, exactly! It was always “But Rocky will be so disappointed if you don’t share your toys with him!” Like … what?

And don’t get me wrong, they’re wonderful parents and we’re a very close, loving family. That’s what makes this particular shared psychosis so baffling! Just a big ol’ collective break from reality to obsess over this stupid rock, I guess.

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u/LiveForDrama · 4h

Ok but real talk, I would give ANYTHING to have been a fly on the wall when your uncle first unveiled the “siblings” 💀 I’m picturing this grown man deadass pulling pebbles out of his pockets and ceremoniously announcing “Here’s baby Pumice, and little Granite, and this one is called Basalt ...”

And your parents were just like “Why, HELLO THERE LITTLE ONES! WHAT DELIGHTFUL NEW ADDITIONS TO OUR BROOD!” Just … no questions asked. No commentary on the total insanity. God, I love families.

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Reply from u/NumberOneRockHater · 3h

You have NO idea. I still have flashbulb memories of being like 10 years old, walking into the living room to find my GROWN-ASS UNCLE lying on the floor, lining up those idiotic pebbles and introducing them one by one.

Meanwhile my dad is on the couch COOING at them and having full-on conversations like “Isn’t that right, little fella? Your uncle just loves to spoil you, doesn’t he?” MY BRAIN COULD NOT COMPUTE.

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u/GlassHalfFull · 2h

Ok, gotta say … as someone raised by very boring, no-nonsense parents, I’m just a lil bit jealous of the sheer unrestrained WHIMSY your family has cultivated here.

Like, you’ll always have this hilarious shared experience to look back on! Sure it’s a rock, but it’s THEIR rock, you know? That’s beautiful in a weird way. At least your childhood wasn’t mind-numbing evenings full of tax documents and khaki pantsuits?

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Reply from u/NumberOneRockHater · 1h

Haha, you make a good point! I definitely can’t say my childhood was dull, that’s for sure. Although I do have traumatic memories of losing Rocky at a rest stop when I was 5, and my parents freaking out for hours until we found him under a vending machine. Totally normal.

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[cosmal]

also!!! sirius giving shy!you your first hickey 😵‍💫 he’s so gentle at first, but once you start making noises and gasping he gets a tad bit rough. he ends up accidentally leaving a bright purple mark on your neck that doesn’t go away for days. unfortunately james and remus see it and the teasing is relentless

marked up

mal i love u this request is amazing.

summary — sirius gives you a hickey. james and remus think it’s amusing.

content — sirius black x fem!reader, hickies, shy!reader

Sirius has his face in your neck and he’s been home for a solid five minutes.

You’re in his bed and he’s on top of you. His hip over your stomach, an arm across your chest that’s curled up behind your ear to hold your face back.

“Is that,” he mumbles, smattering quick, wet kisses over your skin. He breathes in, “is that a new perfume?”

You angle your head upwards to escape his relentless mouth, face towards the ceiling. You can feel the beginnings of shy laughter bubble low in your chest.

“Yeah,” you say a little breathless, a lot distracted. “Yeah, you bought it.”

He nudges the patch of skin under your jaw. “Did I?”

He’s so close to your sweet spot you feel like you can’t breathe. Your chest stutters when he finds it and all you can do is hum what you hope sounds like a yes.

Sirius sets a cruel path across your neck, nipping and nudging. You think you have an idea on what he’s about to do. Your hands tighten in their grip where you have them in his dress shirt. He still smells like work.

He opens his mouth and the pressure is barely there. You’ve gone quiet and Sirius notices. “How was your day, lovely?”

You bite your lip. “Uh—“ This close you worry Sirius can feel the thumping of your heart under your skin. You breathe deeply to contain it and pretend he doesn’t know how nervous you are just from how warm you’ve gotten. “It was— it was okay.”

“Yeah?”

You don’t continue. His lips part and you shiver instead. He’s slow and gentle at first, though you suspect it’s only the beginning. The pressure builds and your neck feels warm.

“Sirius,” you gasp. He grunts into your neck.

His teeth graze your skin and your hands reach up to tug at his hair as rough as you can allow yourself to. You think how at the beginning of your relationship you would’ve had a flustered fit if you had your boyfriend this close to your neck. Now you’re pulling him closer.

He bites down gently and you get a little gaspy. Pawing at the soft material at his shirt. Sirius would continue if he had it in him. If he hears your little whimpers any longer he might implode. He grunts a pleased laugh and pulls back with a wet smack.

He leans on his elbow, bringing a hand up to your neck. Pressing his thumb into the damp spot, he coos.

“Pretty,” he says absentmindedly.

Your hands fly to your neck. “Is that gonna leave a spot?”

Sirius chuckles, smoothing over the bullied skin gently, “Yeah, lovely.”

You cover your warming face with your hands and nudge his leg with a socked foot. “Sirius,” you whine, “really?”

He leans down to pry your hands away, you let him, not too willingly you might add, when he puckers his lips for a kiss. “Yes, really,” he grins. “It’ll look good.”

“Everyone’ll see it.”

“That’s the whole point!” he snorts. You can’t look him in the face.

“Remus is gonna have a field day.”

-

Remus does have a field day. So does James.

“Y/N, lovely,” James gasps when they find you on Sirius’ couch later that night.

“James…” you murmur, confused.

“What is that?”

He points at your neck and you feign obliviousness. “What?”

“On your neck…” Remus supplies. Smarmy.

“Boys….” You hear Sirius warn. A low grumble from the kitchen.

“Oh, um—” You hide your warming face behind a cushion.

“You’ve been mauled!” James says when he gets closer.

“Should we call someone?” Remus adds. Both their eyes glisten with mirth as they eye each other over the sofa. You’d whack them both if you hadn’t sunk into the couch.

���Ambulance?” James gawks, “The police? Was it Sirius?”

Remus goes to poke it. You swat his hand away with a confidence you barely have. “Stop it! Leave me alone or I’ll kick you both out.”

James snorts as he throws himself into the seat next to you. “You get marked up once and you think you can throw us out of our best mate’s flat!”

Remus looks amused as he sits down as well. “Marked up? She’s been attacked.” You roll your eyes. The mark is tiny. Barely there. You’re surprised they can even see it under the lack of lighting in Sirius’s flat.

“Aw, do you want one too, Prongs?” Sirius teases, making grabby hands at James.

He stands from his seat. “Don’t touch me!”

“C’mere,” Sirius laughs.

“No!”

Sirius chases a roaring James around the house while you and Remus sit back and hold back bouts of laughter. You forget about the hickey almost immediately.

That is until later that night in bed with Sirius when he murmurs how you’re all his until he falls asleep.

[fluentmoviequoter]

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Part 3/3 of my sweet, soft Tim miniseries!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!rookie!reader

Summary: Tim Bradford cares more about you, his boot, than he should. He kisses you off-duty and you both decide to hide your new relationship.

Warnings: fluff, a little angst, incorrect (and improbable) police procedure

Word Count: 1.3k+ words

A/N: Thanks for the love on this miniseries! And extra special thanks again to @elephants-bubbles-brachosauruses and @writings-of-a-demigod!

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Tim told you on your first day that personal lives have no business in your professional police life. That was before he kissed you after hours and admitted that he was falling in love with you. It still shocks you when you relive it, which you’ve done for most of the morning. Tim seemed like the perfect, most rule-abiding TO at Mid-Wilshire. As he walks into roll call, you duck your chin.

He sits directly behind you and mumbles, “Welcome to the ugly. Until we’re in a position where this doesn’t get us both fired, learn to keep that line solid.”

You nod. The line between professional and private disappeared completely last night as you lost sight of everything except Tim. Even now, hours later, your mind wants to think of nothing except Tim, Tim, Tim, and the kiss he gave you last night. But you’re trapped between a rock and a hard place, in a lie, and dependent on the truth. So, you have to balance the different areas of your life, and now the ugly has spread from the crimes you stop to your answer about why you wear the uniform.

“Good morning,” Wade greets as he walks to his podium. “Rookies, what day is it?”

“Test day,” you answer with your fellow boots.

“That’s right. So, you’ll work the first six hours of your shift, then come back here for the written and oral examinations. Which means your TO is going to stick to easy calls. Right, Bradford?”

“Yes, sir,” Tim says.

“Good. Then get out there and don’t stress too much. 80 is passing.”

You stand after Wade leaves the room. Tim makes eye contact with you, and you nod. It will be a long day, and as your mind swings from thinking about Tim to worrying about your test, you aren’t sure if you can survive the ugly. Worse, it’s only just beginning.

Last Night

“Tim!” you call as you jog toward him.

Tim stops beside his truck and turns to face you. He furrows his brows as he waits for you to speak, though seeing you in civvies takes him back to the dream he hasn’t told you about.

“I- I’m sorry for keeping you, but… what are my chances? Really?” you inquire softly.

“Of passing? They’re great, you don’t have anything to be worried about,” Tim assures.

“And you?”

“I’ll give you the recommendation and reports you deserve.”

“No, I mean… I don’t know what I mean.”

You step back and drop your eyes, but Tim reaches out. He stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder and waits until your eyes reach his. The concerned look in his eyes makes the emotions you’re already struggling with strengthen into a raging storm that you can’t control.

“Let’s go somewhere to talk,” Tim says. “Your choice.”

You say the name of your favorite restaurant, and Tim nods as his hand slides from your arm. He says he’ll meet you there, and you wonder if this is how the bad ends. Then you remember what comes after. When Tim brought up the good, the bad, and the ugly, you didn’t imagine it taking over your life and every thought like this.

After you park outside the restaurant, Tim walks to your car and opens your door. He blocks your path, keeping you in your seat.

“What are you really worried about?” he asks, leaning toward you with one hand braced on the top of your car.

“Um,” you mumble.

“You can talk to me.”

“I don’t want to mess this up, but I don’t know what to do.”

“About your future or me?”

You look up into Tim’s eyes. They’re free from condescension or anger, only concern and an inquisitive glint. He’s asking as a person, not your TO.

“You,” you admit. “I like you, Tim, and I don’t know how much longer I can keep everything bottled up. Even though I know I’m putting my career and yours at risk.”

Tim moves his hand from the side of your door to your chin. He tilts your face up toward his and smiles.

“Then I guess we’ll have to keep this between us,” he says.

Your mind and emotions are overcome when Tim kisses you. He’s all that you can think of, and though you know it’s wrong and could bring about the ugly you desperately wish to avoid, you don’t want to stop kissing him.

Present Day

Grey calls your name from his office as you exit the locker room. “A word?”

Once you’re seated and his door is closed, Wade sighs. He sits across from you and opens a folder with your name.

“I have your grade and the reports of your oral test. The examiners had a lot to say about you,” he explains.

“Oh,” you reply. “I- I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything yet. Your score is tied with the station record for highest ever achieved, you set a new record for the oral portion, and the chief wants to offer you a golden ticket. When you came in, I knew you had potential, and I knew you’d find it working with Bradford. But this? You succeeded even my high expectations.”

“A golden ticket?”

“That’s right. You can pick your career, not many rookies get chances like this so soon. Plus, you can decide to never see Bradford again if you transfer the right way.”

Wade chuckles at his own joke, but you have another idea in mind.

“Can I ask a hypothetical?” you ask.

“Does it have to do with the looks you and Bradford give each other?” he responds. “Because if it does, we can file with IA now and get you out of his chain of command. There wouldn’t be any problem with a relationship in that case.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t tell anyone until tomorrow, okay? Congratulations, officer.”

You shake Wade’s hand before you leave. Telling Tim the news is the only thing you want to do, but as you walk out of the station, you know you’ll have to avoid him tonight.

“How are you going to use your golden ticket?” Tim asks after roll call.

“I haven’t decided yet. Somewhere far outside of your chain of command, I think,” you answer.

“That eager to get away from me?”

“The opposite. I found us a way out of the ugly.”

Tim looks around, then steps into your space. “Do not choose a career that you don’t truly want in an effort to be personally happy. The lines are separate, but they affect one another. It’s not worth-“

“Tim,” you interrupt. “I know what I want, and I’m going to do it. But I want you, this, us, too. No matter how ugly things get along the way.”

“You’re too good,” Tim murmurs.

“For what?”

“All of it.”

You shake your head, and Tim tilts his head to direct you around a corner. Out of the open, he kisses you quickly.

“I was wrong,” he whispers as you pull back.

“About?” you reply.

“The ugly is just what we deal with. It’s always there, but with you… You make it all good.”

“At least I didn’t get a machete to the hand this time,” you joke.

Tim makes a disappointed sound, then raises his hand to either side of your neck to kiss you again. He’s right; no matter how ugly things get during your shift, having him at your side or watching your back makes it all good. The bad is past, and it only gets better from here.

“Good thing I alerted the higher ups already.”

You pull away from Tim quickly and apologize sheepishly to Wade for the public affection. He brushes it off as a celebration before he hands you the completed paperwork for your golden ticket transfer. Tim wishes you luck, but you know it will turn out good.

[fangirlandtheories]

Do you remember when we used to sing?

Eddie is away on tour while Steve is taking care of their daughter a few hours away. Too bad she can't fall asleep without her special bedtime song...

--

Steve’s brows pinched together as the cries grew in pitch and volume, almost drowning out the familiar click of ‘Hey it’s Eddie, call me back or don’t, I’m not your mother.’ from the speaker of his phone. 

He had shifted from frustrated to desperate as he glanced over at their daughter, red faced and snot nosed. Bedtime was a solid hour past due and didn’t seem to be looming any closer. 

“It’s okay, sweets, we’ll call him again.” Steve soothed as he ran a hand down the toddler’s back. 

“Daddy!!!” She screamed again, choking with the effort of her sobs, as she squeezed her eyes shut. It had been love at first sight for Eddie and Steve when they had met Rayne’s mother. She was young, just turning 20 in the fall, with curly blonde hair and big brown eyes. She was looking for someone who wanted a baby that couldn’t naturally have their own and the agent connected the dots for them. After several months, little Rayne was theirs.

“I know,” Steve muttered as he pulled up Eddie’s contact again. Eddie had taken a break from touring after the adoption of their daughter but had recently started back up. It started off pretty well, the excitement of getting to have a Dad weekend with Steve pulling her through, but now the newness was gone and all little Rayne Munson-Harrington wanted was Eddie. 

Eddie usually found weekend gigs but had found a week long slot in a club in St. Louis that promised great publicity and even better payment, so Corroded Coffin hit the road and Steve held down the fort with some help from Robin and Wayne. They were obligated to babysit, she was named after both of them afterall, and he was grateful because work had been taxing enough without adding a feisty 4 year old to the mix. 

A flu bug was sweeping it’s way through Hawkin’s Elementary and it spared no casualties in Steve’s kindergarten classroom. He spent the day trying to keep the class from putting things in their mouths and making sure everyone washed their hands, sending a child or two home after seeing the greenish pale tints of nausea pass over their faces. He knew that he’d have to deal with kids puke at some point, especially as a parent, but he’d like to avoid it at all costs. 

“Pick up your phone you ass.” He hissed through clenched teeth, rocking the inconsolable girl in his arms as he dialed again.

***

Eddie first felt the familiar jolt of vibration in his back pocket  just after the first chorus. The second time was just a few verses later. He smiled into the microphone as he continued to sing, ignoring his phone. The third time was in the bridge of the song, a particularly terrible time to take a call as Eddie’s hands were preoccupied with his guitar. The fourth time happened in the final notes of the song. The fifth during the applause. Eddie frowned as he pulled the device from his pocket, ignoring a glare from Jeff.

“Hey guys, you won’t believe this but my husband is facetiming me right now. This is like the fifth time he’s called so I’m going to answer, everybody be quiet and let’s see how long it takes him to remember that we had a later show tonight.” Eddie laughed as the audience silenced quickly. Steve’s irritated yet grateful face popped up on the screen seconds later.

“Hey love…” He crooned with a cheeky smirk.

“Your daughter is very upset with you.” Steve ignored the affectionate nickname. 

“Why is she my daughter whenever she’s mad?” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Is she alright?”

“She’s been screaming since 8:30 Eds.” Steve ran a hand through his hair and blew out an exasperated sigh. “She’s refusing to sleep until you do it, that’s why I’ve been calling.”

“Steve I’m um…” Eddie glanced nervously at the audience in front of him. “Kind of in the middle of something.”

“Yeah I wanted to be relaxing right now too but our kid needs her dad and since he’s five hours away the very least he could do is sing her the damn song so that we all can get some rest.” Steve squinted at him. “You’re being weirder than usual. Are the guys there with you?”

“Yeah the guys are definitely with me.” Eddie ignored Gareth’s snicker. “Can I call you-”

“Edward, so help me God, sing the song so that she can go to sleep.” Steve interrupted. “Look at her.” Steve turned the camera to the distraught little girl and Eddie’s heart clenched.

“Hi angel, I hear you’re a little sad.” He frowned in solidarity with her as her lip stuck out. “No, don't cry, it’s okay Ray Ray.” She howled louder, tears popping from her wet lashes. He winced as he lip quivered, his resolve wearing down to nothing. He glanced over at Gareth, leaning over to whisper to him before looking back to his phone.

“Alright fine, let’s sing it, yeah?” Eddie placated. “You’re breaking my heart Bambi.” The wide eyes and long lashes practically gifted the nickname to her. He glanced back at Gareth who gave him a thumbs up before looking at the audience. “Daddy’s band is going to help him sing it, is that okay?” Rayne whimpered as she nodded, snuggled into Steve’s arms as he held the phone in front of her.

“Wait, are you on stage right now?” Steve leaned forward. “Shit, I’m sorry babe, I didn’t mean to interrupt the performance.”

“You couldn’t interrupt if you tried.” Eddie smiled. “Isn’t that right?” Steve could hear cheers from the audience. “We love our rock and roll family here and we honor our traditions, most of all the bedtime song. Ready boys? Sing along if you know it, our most honored guest is in the audience tonight and would love to hear you guys.”

With that, Jeff  played the opening notes on the guitar while Gareth tapped out the beat with the rarely used tambourine. The bass thumped along to Eddie’s singing, and though it admittedly wasn’t their usual style, the band loved Rayne like she was their niece and they would play anything to make her happy.

“-In the misty morning fog with our hearts a-thumping” Eddie held the microphone in one hand and the phone in the other, beaming at the smile on Steve’s face. “And you, my brown eyed girl.” Rayne giggled and clapped, tears still on her cheeks but sadness having finally passed. 

***

Hours and miles away, Steve smiled as he shut the door to his daughter's bedroom, the nightlight softly glowing, as he hummed the song to himself. Tomorrow there would be a series of tweets about Eddie going soft and videos flying all around the internet, but for now, and for the first time that evening, the Munson-Harrington home was quiet.

[doberbutts]

Out of curiosity, how to you get your dog to target just the padded part of the target, and not like, an unprotected leg? Like, obviously training, but what does that look like at the beginning? Thanks!

So from the very beginning, most dogs are taught to bite on the toy completely separately from being attached to any human. With Fenris, this was a strip of sheepskin (we call it the bunny)

Once he learned the game with the "bunny" darting back and forth for him to chase, he was given a more difficult toy which is mostly a strip of burlap or canvas

And then once he was biting hard enough to not let go when tugging on it to try and get it away from the decoy, he was moved to a pillow tug

This is a little harder to bite, and he needs to actually put real pressure on it to keep it when the decoy tries to take it back. It also teaches him to try to center his bite instead of drift off to one side or the other.

The (leg) sleeve is hard to hold in the same way, so at that point it had to go at least partially over the decoy's arm. By now he's so used to biting the offered toy that he has really no thought about going after the unprotected bits, because he's had a solid year of "hey you see this thing? Bite the thing and not me please".

When switching to the full leg sleeve, the decoy will usually present it to the dog initially in the form of a low kick, so the dog can see and understand where and what to bite. These photos skip a step- that's coming in my queue later- which was the leg sleeve on the leg but no suit pants. This photo is a modified leg sleeve over suit pants, so he can still "win" the sleeve.

The decoy working him in suit pants prefers the pants because sometimes in their excitement to bite the leg, the dogs can go a bit high (Fenris had some trouble with that, see here)

And an uninhibited full mouth dog bite to the knee or lower thigh is, um, unpleasant to say the least, so this decoy prefers to wear pants once the dogs are on leg bites. The first day of this seminar, a malinois that is not yet on pants went a bit high and left some heart-stopping slobber marks just left of the man's genitals. He was in shorts at the time, and apparently wasn't wearing a cup, so there's a discussion of risk to the decoy to be had too.

However, young and inexperienced dogs like Fenris and that malinois need the ability to win, or to tear the sleeve off of the decoy's body and parade around with it a little. You have to understand, for these dogs, biting is the most rewarding thing ever of all time for them. So asking the dog to let go and recall away from the bite can sometimes be interpreted by the dog as a punisher, making it so that either A: the dog no longer bites as well because they are expecting to be called off or B: the dog stops recalling because fuck you biting is fun. Neither of these are good options, so in the interim we've modified a leg sleeve to go over the suit pants so these green dogs can still get their win until they have enough experience to not risk those outcomes.

Obviously, as said, dogs can still miss, which is what the full suit is for. This is the picture the dog sees once it's time to compete.

At that point the only unprotected places are the hands and the head, which the dog should NEVER be targeting in the first place. The decoy also moves in a specific way to present various avenues for the dog to bite in the way the decoy wants the dog to bite, but that's a lesson on decoying that I'm really not qualified to give lol. However, that also means that even if the dog doesn't target the offered places, the decoy is still safe because the suit takes the majority of the bite.

Which means the dog can bite the leg, the arm, the chest, the back, the ass, or yes, even the family jewels themselves and the decoy is still protected. It should be noted that these are a mixture of mondio and French ring, PSA, and actual police dogs being pictured here.

This is also a little different from Schutzhund, now called IGP, in which the dog only ever bites the forearm. This is the only option that the dog is ever presented once the dog progresses similarly off the tugs and straps of cloth and "bunny", and so this is the most padded place on the decoy's body (in IGP they're called helpers). Not to say that no dog tries a snap elsewhere to see what might happen, but it's heavily discouraged.

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: so. this wasn’t a fic i planned on writing but kind of needed to, in order to just process some shit. i had the same thyroid surgery a couple of years ago, but only had half of it out at the time. i recently had a little bit of a scare that there was something going on with the remaining half (there wasn’t, i’m all good!!) but i sat down ready to write a different andrei fic and this one came out instead 😬 it’s kind of funny, because i wanted to post an andrei fic on the one year anniversary of posting that first andrei fic and it weirdly worked out that this fic is an opposite of that first one - andrei taking care of reader as opposed to her taking care of him after the acl injury. anyway, stupidly long note over and just one final thing: i have been so grateful and blessed by all the love for my hockey fics this past year and i’m looking forward to writing more fun fics for you guys 🤍

word count: 6.6k

tw: cancer mention, surgery mention, incisions and scarring mention

summary: when you have a medical scare, it’s andrei’s turn to take care of you

You manage to keep your emotions under control and locked away until you get home and Andrei’s head pops up over the back of the couch, television remote in hand, smile on his face as he asks, “how was your day?”

The words are barely out of his mouth before you’re bursting into hysterical tears, sobs wracking your entire body. Your bag slips off your shoulder and lands on the floor with a thump and you can’t see Andrei’s face fall in fear through your tears. But a second later, his arms are strong around your body, his chest solid under your cheek as he crushes you in a hug.

You’re grateful for it, for his solid presence, because the second he touches you, your knees buckle and he’s the only thing keeping you standing.

“What happened? What’s wrong?” Andrei’s voice is thick with fear, one large hand stroking the back of your head. His voice shakes when he asks, “did someone die?”

You manage a shake of your head against his chest, breath hiccuping out of your chest. Your lungs feel tight and you’re pretty sure you’re not getting enough oxygen in on your shaky, shallow breaths. Andrei pulls back slightly and cradles your face in his hands, fingers gripping just slightly too tight. The pressure grounds you and even though you’re still sobbing, your breathing feels easier.

“Solnyshka, please, what’s happening?” Andrei studies you with worried eyes, his accent stronger than usual. His thumbs swipe over your cheeks, like windshield wipers getting rid of your tears. “You’re scaring me.”

“D-doctor called,” you manage to choke out and Andrei’s grip on your face gets tighter. Your stomach swirls with nausea and you’re afraid that you might vomit on him.

Andrei mutters a curse under his breath, your reaction isn’t for good news.

You raise a shaky hand to your mouth and press your fingertips against your lips, muffling your voice as you choke out a fragmented sentence, “b-biopsy was, um, it’s - they said. Oh fuck, um, c-cancer.”

The word hangs in the air between your bodies, dropped like a bomb.

Andrei’s eyes go wide and he stares at you, jaw going slack. “Fuck,” he grits out the curse and you press the heels of your palms into your eye sockets, hard, until you see little white starbursts.

One of his hands slides down the side of your jaw until his thumb is right over the lump just above your collarbone, the cause of your tears. He’d been the one to notice it months ago, pressing a kiss to your skin and mumbling that something felt off. You’d brushed him off, like an idiot, thinking it was nothing until he had mentioned it again a few weeks later, noting that it was bigger. Twice more he had to comment on it before you went to your doctor, starting down a path of blood draws, ultrasounds, CT scans, and most recently, a biopsy.

You feel like an idiot for waiting so long.

Andrei’s lips meet your forehead, a warm kiss stabilizing you. He mumbles something against your skin and wraps his arms around you again in a tight hug. You lean heavily against him, mind going a mile a minute, your doctor’s words ringing in your ears. Without realizing it, Andrei gently ushers you up to your room, helping you strip off your clothes and turning on the shower for you. You blink at him and he cups your cheek.

“Shower,” he says, voice hoarse. “Clean the day off, yes? Then we figure it out. Together.”

You nod, wiping at the tears still sliding down your cheeks. “Please don’t leave?” Your voice cracks. You don’t think you can be alone with your thoughts right now. “Just…just tell me about something. Anything.”

“Okay,” he nods and leans against the countertop, arms crossed over his stomach. He’s quiet for a few moments while you get situated in the shower, hot water running over your face. You splutter out the water when it fills your mouth and tears well up in your eyes again. Andrei’s eyes study you as he slowly begins to tell you about practice, clearly trying to remember each and every little detail that he can to try and distract you.

It sort of works, drawing a faint laugh when he tells you about Pyotr’s latest adventure in the crease, but also your brain can’t stop thinking about the c-word. It’s a constant loop in your brain - “I’m sorry, the biopsy was positive for malignant cells. Thyroid cancer. I’m scheduling you for an appointment in two days to discuss the plan going forward.”

Without you really participating, still in a daze, Andrei turns the shower off and bundles you in a towel, rubbing his hands up and down you arms to get some warmth in your body. He guides you into the bedroom and quickly helps you into sweats, bundling you up under the covers before climbing in next to you and pulling you close so your chest is flush against his.

“You’re shaking,” he comments, squeezing you tightly. Your head is tucked under his chin, nose pressed against his neck.

“She didn’t say,” you mumble, cutting yourself off. “What if it’s - what if it’s bad?”

Andrei shakes his head above you and his fingertips draw nonsense patterns on your back. “It won’t be,” he says firmly.

“But what if it is?” You press him in a shaky voice. “What if I’m like, just -“

“Stop,” he says shortly, interrupting your spiral. You shut your mouth with a little snap. “When do you see doctor again?”

“Two days,” you reply. “The first appointment, eight in the morning.”

Normally your doctor is booked up weeks in advance. The fact that she’s squeezing you in last minute only makes your heart beat faster, nausea churn in your stomach. It must be bad, for her to make sure you get in quickly. If it weren’t, wouldn’t she just let you schedule a normal appointment?

Andrei’s talking, but you don’t hear him over your spiralling thoughts. “Sorry,” you tap on his chest, drawing his attention. “I wasn’t- what were you saying?”

He kisses the crown of your head. “You can have breakfast before? I’ll take you for coffee before we go to the appointment. Is the office near that coffee shop you like?”

“You - wait,” you’re still not really processing what he’s saying, too hung up on cancercancercancer.

“Breakfast before your appointment,” Andrei repeats. His legs tangle with yours.

“You don’t have to -“ you start to say, shaking your head. He doesn’t need to be burdened with your medical stuff now.

Andrei interrupts you with a little pat to your ass. “I’m coming with you, final. No arguing, solnyshka,” his cheek rests against your head and you can feel his hands tremble a little against your back.

“Okay,” you murmur. “No arguing. But you might be late for practice…I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

The thought of going to your appointment alone is terrifying though and you’re grateful that Andrei offered, that you didn’t have to ask. Because you wouldn’t have asked, not when you know he’s busy and distracted with the season. Not when you’re an adult and should be able to handle this on your own.

“Leave to me,” he says. “I’ll handle, okay? Just try to relax now and then we’ll have dinner.”

“I can’t eat,” you reply immediately, your stomach lurches violently. The thought of food is enough to have you ready to rush for the toilet. Frankly, you’re surprised you haven’t already vomited from the sheer anxiety of the situation.

“Then you can watch me eat,” Andrei jokes, surprising a weak giggle from you. You can feel his cheek move against the top of your head with a smile and allow yourself to focus on the steady beat of his heart under your cheek until you fall into a fitful, unsatisfying sleep.

The next day drags and speeds by and before you know it, you’re waking up at 4:30 in the morning on the day of your appointment. You try to stay quiet on your side of the bed, so you don’t wake Andrei up - there was a game last night and he’d gotten home late - but he’s more attuned to you than you realized. His hand slides over your hip, squeezing gently.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper into the dark. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

His eyes are still shut and his voice is low and hoarse with sleep, but Andrei’s lips curl up in a sleepy, lazy smile. “Didn’t wake me,” he mumbles into the pillow as his hand finds yours. You lace your fingers with his, feeling the ridges of his knuckles with the pads of your fingers. “Don’t want you nervous alone.”

“Thanks,” you manage to choke out the word around the lump of emotion lodged in your throat. Andrei tugs on your hand and you slide closer to him, letting him tuck you under his arm and bury his face in your neck.

“Sleep again. Alarm is set,” his breath is warm on your skin and his arm is a heavy, reassuring weight over your stomach. You close your eyes and let yourself mimic Andrei’s slow, steady breathing. It’s not easy and your brain continues whirling a mile a minute, thinking about the lump on your neck, the possible treatment, possible long term effects. You just wish you knew already how bad it is.

Andrei grunts next to you, blowing little pieces of hair from your face. “Stop thinking, solnyshka. You’re going to start a fire with all your thoughts,” he kisses your shoulder and pulls you closer, crushing you against his side so tightly it’s almost hard to breathe. You focus on the weight of his arm and the heat of his body until you can feel your heartbeat slow down.

The next time you wake up, it’s to an empty bed and the smell of eggs and bacon in the air. You yawn and stretch out, turning your head to see the time on your Hatch. 6:45, a much more reasonable time to be awake.

A pit sits heavy in your stomach and you scrub a hand over your face, swallowing harshly around the lump in your throat. Just over an hour until you really know what you’re dealing with.

You can hear Andrei moving around in the kitchen and with a heavy sigh, you push yourself out of bed and move on auto-pilot to get ready for the appointment. You take time with your hair and makeup, feeling a little bit better once you start looking like a human again.

“Hi,” you greet Andrei quietly once you head down to the kitchen. He looks up from where he’s scrolling on his phone while eating his first breakfast of eggs and bacon.

“Morning,” he opens one arm for you to come and lean against him. You rest your head on his shoulder and he kisses the top of your head. “Sleep well?”

You lift one shoulder in a shrug and Andrei chuckles a bit. “Snored and drooled all over me,” he teases, “so it was a rhetorical question.”

“I did not!” You protest, a spark of energy flaring while you defend yourself. You push back from Andrei’s side and squint at him, a little pout on your lips.

“Did too,” Andrei grins and when he grabs your chin in his hand to draw you in for a kiss, you know he provoked you on purpose and is happy with the result.

You exhale a scoff through your nose when he pulls back, shit-eating grin still on his face. “Terrible man,” you murmur affectionately.

His grin turns smirky and his hand slides down to rest against the curve of your ass. He pats lightly, a little frisson of heat traveling through your body at the contact. You sigh and lean into him again, not looking forward to leaving the little bubble of your home.

At the coffee shop, you pick at the cinnamon scone Andrei had forced into your hands, crumbs littering the tabletop as you shred it with your fingers. Andrei studies you, chewing on the black plastic straw in his iced white chocolate mocha. You’re startled when he abruptly asks, “where do you want to go this summer?”

Crumbs skitter across the table when your fingers jolt and you blink at him, hands frozen in midair. “What?” You ask, shaking your head and processing. It clicks a second later and you continue, “I…I can’t think about the summer, Drei. I just need to get through today.”

He keeps chewing on the straw and you can’t help but watch his lips as they move. “Solnyshka, when this is over and you’re not going anywhere on vacation, you’ll tell me that we should have planned something,” he smiles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “So, where do you want to go this summer?”

Tears prickle at your eyes, again, overwhelmed by Andrei’s thoughtfulness. Pausing for time and to make sure your voice isn’t shaky when you do speak, you look down at the massacred scone and brush your fingers together to get rid of the crumbs on your fingers. “Um,” you clear your throat, “I don’t know, really. Nykki and Martin love Mauritius. Maybe there?”

“Whatever you want,” Andrei agrees easily, slurping at his drink. He pushes the napkin with a larger chunk of scone on it towards you. “Eat,” he demands, tone firm.

You take a small bite, just to appease him, but the pastry tastes like sawdust in your mouth.

Andrei holds your hand throughout the entire appointment and you’re grateful for his presence, because you can’t focus on anything your doctor says after ‘stage I papillary thyroid cancer’ and ‘surgery’ and ‘radioactive iodine treatment, just to be sure.’ He squeezes your fingers tighter and tighter as your doctor talks, pointing out something on the black and white images of your ultrasound and CT scan. The blurry blobs could be anything and you honestly have no idea what she’s pointing at.

Your heartbeat pounds in your ears, blood rushing like you’re underwater, as she explains the surgery you’ll be undergoing. A thyroidectomy to remove your entire thyroid and the cancerous lymph nodes. In and out in the hospital, a straight line cut across your lower throat. A scar unless you’re good with applying Vitamin E oil or Mederma. Possible damage to your vocal cords, but that’s very rare.

“What does your schedule look like in the next month?” She asks, briskly but not unkindly.

You blink at her and shake your head slightly. Andrei looks at you, waiting for an answer. “I, um,” you pause, trying to mentally access your calendar, “I’m open. I just…have to put in the leave time at work.”

“Good,” she says, looking down at the paper calendar on her desktop and running her finger over the boxes, “we’ll schedule your thyroidectomy for a week and a half from today, that’s a lighter day for me. All the pre-op information will be in your portal and we’ll go from there on scheduling the rest of your treatment. Any questions?”

A million.

“No,” you murmur, “um, not right now.”

“Can I stay with her?” Andrei leans forward to ask. “When she has surgery?”

“You can wait in the waiting room while she’s under,” your doctor replies. “And once she’s out of the anaesthesia and discharged, you’ll have to drive her home. She won’t be able to drive for a day or so while the anaesthesia really works out of her system.”

You’re shaking your head. “No, you have work. You have practice and games, someone else will drive me. I’ll ask Nykki…”

“No,” Andrei turns to you with wide brown eyes. “I’ll drive you. I’ll be there, solnyshka.”

You shake your head again, but keep quiet because you don’t want to have a fight with Andrei in front of the doctor. The rest of the appointment is routine scheduling and you leave with your head swimming and a surgery date burned into your brain.

You’re quiet the rest of the day and Andrei doesn’t push you to talk, instead trying to go about your routine as normally as possible. He’s missed practice - “personal reasons” Rod’s quoted as saying on Twitter, but “nothing that will prevent him from playing tomorrow.”

The next week and a half feels like a blur - you’re distracted and anxious with Andrei playing three games in seven days, two of them on the road, taking him away from you. He’s back the day before your surgery and doesn’t say anything when you greet him at the door with a tight hug and cling to him for the rest of the night, your stomach growling since you can’t eat, both from the anxiety and the pre-surgical requirements.

“Are you sure about missing the game tomorrow?” You ask later, when it’s dark and you’re buried under the blankets. “I feel -“

“Don’t feel bad,” Andrei rubs small circles over your back. “I made decision. Rod understands. You are more important than the game and the boys promised to win for you.”

A soft giggle escapes into the air and some of your guilt along with it. You hate that Andrei’s missing the game, hate that he’s missing it for you. You hate that everyone seems to know your personal business too, but you know Andrei had needed to talk about what you’re going through too.

His other hand moves up to your scalp and scratches gently, tension seeping from your shoulders. “Get some sleep,” he kisses your cheek. “Early day tomorrow.”

“I love you,” you whisper. “So much.”

Andrei has to practically manhandle you into the car in the morning, making sure you’re dressed comfortably and warm. Your head rests against the window as he drives. “I’ll pick up some groceries while you’re napping,” he says, brushing his thumb over your knee. “Anything you want specific?”

“Butterscotch pudding,” you ask hopefully, smiling a little. You try not to eat a ton of processed foods, but you figure post-surgery you’ll indulge.

“On it,” Andrei grins at you, dimple popping. He looks calm, which reassures you. Once he parks and you enter the hospital, everything speeds up and slows down. Andrei helps you fill out paperwork while you change into the hospital gown and grippy socks.

You fold up your clothes neatly and put them in the little duffle bag you brought along. Andrei catches sight of the pile and raises an eyebrow, “are you not wearing underwear?”

Your cheeks heat up with a flush and you hold the gown shut behind you. “No,” you hiss, “I’m not allowed to. Don’t even start with me.”

“I wasn’t going to,” his smile is a little too sneaky and you try to climb onto the bed in a way that doesn’t leave your entire ass exposed. You fail miserably, if the little wolf-whistle Andrei lets out is any indication.

“I hate you,” you mutter, pulling the sheet up around your legs. You’re both quiet while the nurse comes around to make sure all your paperwork is filled out and signed. Andrei immediately reaches for your hand when the nurse puts the IV line in your other hand - “for the anesthesia, later,” she explains - knowing that you hate needles more than anything.

And then there’s nothing to do but wait.

Andrei’s sitting on the edge of the bed, texting and reading out the messages that the guys are directing to you. “Jarvy,” he says, wincing at the screen, “wants to know if you get to keep your thyroid once it’s removed.”

“Uh, no,” you reply flatly, face screwing up in disgust at the thought of it. “I hate this.”

His hand lands on your knee and rubs it through the sheet. “It will be over before you know it,” he soothes you. “In meantime, Skjeisy says you can join me and him in the cool scar club.”

Your hand subconsciously lifts to your throat, fingers wrapping around it loosely, and you blow out a breath, puffing up your cheeks. “Not a club I really wanted to join,” you say wryly.

You scroll through Twitter absently, a pit of guilt settling low in your stomach when you see the Tweet from the Canes’ account that Andrei’s missing tonight’s game for personal reasons. Your thumb hovers over the tweet, ready to tap on it and read the replies, when Andrei plucks the device from your hands. “Hey!” You protest, reaching for your phone. Andrei pulls it out of your reach.

“No more social media,” he says, tucking your phone in the back pocket of his jeans for safe keeping. With his other hand, he digs a little envelope out of his front pocket. “I forgot, yesterday, to give this to you. But mom sent this and I was supposed to give it to you before surgery,” he settles the little envelope in your hands and you look at it curiously.

Opening the flap, you tilt the contents out onto the palm of your hand - a little gold medallion on a chain. You hold it up to your face and see the tiny icon embossed into the gold. “Who is this?” You ask, rubbing your thumb over the image.

“Saint Anastasia,” Andrei replies, “she was a healer, I think. Mama wanted to make sure you were protected.”

Elena’s gesture of love and concern hits you like a punch to the stomach and you startle both yourself and Andrei by bursting out into ugly, loud sobs. Your face crumples and fingers tighten around the chain.

Andrei lets out a noise of distress that you can barely hear over your crying and rush of blood in your ears. His arms wrap around your upper body and you bury your face in his chest, getting tears and snot everywhere. “It’s okay,” he whispers in your ear, stroking a hand over your hair. “Hey, stop crying, nurses are going to think something is wrong. Shh.”

“I just really love your mom,” you wail into his chest, muffled by his shirt.

Andrei keeps shushing you, alternating with trying to comfort you. You sniffle and pull back, wiping at your face with the back of your wrist. “Better?” Andrei asks, cupping your chin. His lips are drawn down in a concerned frown.

“A little, yeah,” you nod, pulling your knees up to your chest and wrapping one arm around them. You hold your other hand up, the little pendant dangling from its chain in between your faces. “Can you keep this safe for me?”

He nods and lets you clasp the chain around his neck. The little pendant falls into place against his chest, dwarfed next to his giant cross. You smooth your fingertips over the icon and his cross, lingering for a few heartbeats over the warm metals. Andrei’s hand comes up to cover yours and he squeezes your fingers. “You are going to be perfect, solnyshka,” he mumbles, lifting your hand to his mouth to kiss your fingertips.

“Okay, kids,” your nurse, a cheerful older woman named Monica, appears at the foot of your bed, drawing yours and Andrei’s attention, “one more kiss and then I’m whisking you off to the best sleep of your life.”

Andrei squeezes your fingers again and presses a soft kiss against your lips, mumbling, “see you soon.”

You press your fingers into his chest, digging your nails into the fabric of his shirt, fingers curling like you’re going to hold on and not let go. With a shaky sigh, you release him and manage a brave little smile, “don’t forget my butterscotch pudding.”

He nods, laughing under his breath, and then Monica’s helping you get settled back on the bed and Andrei steps off to the side while a whole little team appears to transport you to the operating room. You twist your fingers together anxiously, stomach turning, and turn on the bed so you can keep looking at Andrei until you’re completely out of the pre-op ward. He catches your eye and winks, waving a little and tapping his other hand over his chest, where your icon hangs next to his cross.

“He’s a real cutie,” Monica comments idly, drawing your attention once the swinging doors are shut behind your little parade and Andrei’s out of sight.

“Oh,” you hum faintly, “he really is. I don’t deserve him, honestly.”

“Now, I’m sure that’s not true,” she keeps chatting as you get situated on the operating table, climbing awkwardly from your bed, trying to keep the gown closed over your ass. “You’re just as cute, even more, I’d say.”

“Thanks,” you laugh a little, the compliment warming the icy block of nerves lodged in your chest. Once you’re laid out on the table, you run a hand over your sternum, breathing deeply.

The surgeon comes in and offers you a warm smile, “I promise, I’m really good at this.”

You’re thrown off a little by the statement and he nods, clearly pleased with himself. “I find that patients always want me to be a little cocky,” he continues, sitting down on a wheeling stool next to the table you’re on. “We’ll be done before you know it and you’ll wake up feeling extremely well-rested.”

“As long as you’ve got the skill to back up your words,” you say, surprisingly reassured a bit by his no-nonsense manner.

Monica pats your hand and grins, “he does. Now, count back from ten and you’ll be back with that sweetheart of yours in no time.”

Your lips curl up briefly and you angle your head away when you feel the little tug on the IV in your hand indicating that the anesthesia is getting attached and started. In your head, you start the count at ten, nine, eight —

“Oh, looks like she’s coming around,” a voice breaks through the dark haziness surrounding you and you try to blink, but your body feels too heavy.

There’s a warm pressure on your hand and you twitch your fingers against it. A little shiver works its way through your body, you’re freezing.

The warmth on your hand moves up your arm - a hand stroking against your skin. “Whenever you’re ready,” the familiar accent washes over you, “I can’t wait to see those eyes, solnyshka.”

A hum forms in the back of your throat and that’s a mistake because it hurts and you let yourself fall back asleep to avoid the pain.

The next time you wake up, the bright lights of the hospital almost force you to close your eyes again. You grumble wordlessly and the noise draws Andrei’s attention from where he’s sitting in a chair next to your bed, scrolling on his phone. He looks over at you and his face immediately breaks out into a wide, dimpled smile.

“Hey,” he greets you, scooting the chair closer and reaching for your hands. His are still warm against your cold ones and it’s nice when his thumb brushes over the backs of your knuckles. “How do you feel?”

Before answering, you take stock of your body and you’re surprised to find that you feel pretty good beyond the pain in your throat. That feels like you’re swallowing knives. “‘M okay,” you manage to mumble quietly, wincing at the stretch of your skin. “C’n I have water?”

“Da,” Andrei pours water into a little plastic cup and hands it to you, plunking a straw in the water. You take a sip and it feels so good going down, the cold water soothing the burning. You sigh happily and sink back into the pillows.

“How’d it go?” You ask, rolling your head so your cheek is resting on your shoulder and you can see Andrei better. Your voice scratches out of your throat, raspy and hoarse like you’d just smoked a pack of cigarettes.

“Surgeon says perfect,” Andrei grins, the crinkles around his eyes deepening. “You did so good, solnyshka.”

His fingers never stop stroking yours and you melt at the contact, glad his the first face you saw when you woke up. “Wonder how bad the scar is,” you mutter, resisting the urge to touch your lower neck, where the skin feels tight and battered. “Can I see?”

Andrei’s hesitation and slight frown before he says, “maybe not best idea right now,” tells you all you need to know.

“Oh my god,” your eyes go wide, panic starting to claw at your chest. “He botched me! I’m botched, it’s a horrible scar, right?”

“No, no!” Andrei shakes his head frantically. “Not botched! It just, with the glue, there’s no stitches. But you can see all the blood. It looks worse than it is, the surgeon said.”

“But it looks really bad,” you confirm and before Andrei can say anything, Monica appears behind his shoulder.

“Look at you, awake and ready to go,” she smiles, effectively cutting off any discussion about your neck, and asking how you feel while filling out your chart. You answer as honestly as you can, voice growing more hoarse the longer you talk. “Well, everything looks really good. We’re going to keep you here for a few more hours and then, if everything keeps looking good, you’ll be back home before dinner time.”

You and Andrei chime a simultaneous ‘thank you’ as she leaves.

“Give me my phone,” you demand and Andrei shakes his head.

“No way,” he taps the back of your hand. “I’ll be your secretary. You’re just going to get upset if you look.”

“I won’t!” You counter petulantly, poking your lower lip out. “I just want to see.”

“When we get home,” he promises and you scowl at him. He effortlessly changes the subject, showing you a picture of Gigi that Martin had apparently sent earlier. You smile at your favorite puppy, swallowing often to try and ease the sharp pain. It doesn’t do much other than intensify the pain and you start to regret it, closing your eyes for another nap.

By the time you’re cleared for discharge, the pain meds have worn off completely and your neck hurts, a dark mood clouding your head. Andrei is patient with you, helping you change back into your sweats and zip-up. You protest the wheelchair an orderly brings around, but you’re told it’s hospital policy and you slump into the seat, crossing your arms over your chest. Andrei runs his hand over the crown of your head as he walks next to you, carrying your empty duffel bag.

Instead of driving his Lamborghini, your Toyota Rav is waiting at the curb and you smile. “Oh thank god,” you mutter and Andrei laughs.

“Didn’t think you’d want to get down low in my car,” he explains, holding out a hand to help you stand and then climb up into the passenger seat. He left a blanket in the car for you too and you take the opportunity to cover yourself up with it while he goes around the front of the car. You wave at the orderly through the window and Andrei starts the car.

“You thought right,” you yawn. It’s a fast drive home and you’re grateful for that, because all you want to do is rinse off and lay down. Considering you’d been under anesthesia for a couple of hours, you’re exhausted. You’re so tired, you forget to flip down the visor mirror to look at your incision.

Once you’re home, Andrei bundles you into the house, one hand solid against your lower back as he guides you up the front path. “I know you want to shower,” Andrei says, “but remember the doctor said not to get the glue wet for twenty four hours.”

You whine, cranky and desperate for a shower. “I want all the gross hospital feeling off of me, Drei,” you pout, toeing off your sneakers and crossing your arms.

He drops your tote next to your sneakers and raises an eyebrow. “I know, you can get in the bath and I’ll wash your hair. We’ll be careful with your neck, okay ?”

Your neck feels stiff and your throat is still sore, but you nod, just wanting to take your Tylenol and relax. When you shuffle further into the house, you spot bouquets of flowers on the kitchen island and gasp. “What are those?” You whisper hoarsely, tears prickling at your eyes.

“Oh, right,” Andrei laughs. “Special deliveries for my girl. The team sent and your office, Neci and Nykki. My parents, your parents, Geno.”

Tears slip down your cheeks and you feel overwhelmed with love. You wipe at your eyes with the heels of your palms and turn to Andrei for a hug. He embraces you easily and you shake your head. “I didn’t want everyone to know,” your throat hurts more when you cry.

“Only the important people,” he says. “Everyone loves you, solnyshka.”

The reminder of how many people are supporting you makes you think of Elena’s gift and you pull back from Andrei’s chest. “Can I have my necklace back now?” You ask in a shaky voice.

“Of course,” he unclasps the thin chain from his neck and hooks it around yours, pleased to see that the chain doesn’t touch your glued over incision. He taps the pendant with the tip of his finger and kisses your temple.

After an unsatisfying bath and a glance in the mirror that shows the dark rings under your eyes and the gruesome looking wound on your neck, you’re more or less clean and you build a nest of blankets and pillows on your bed, tucking yourself into the middle of it all. You have to sleep sitting up or partially reclined for the first night and it’s not your favorite way to sleep, so you prop a bunch of pillows around your head and hope that works. Andrei brings you a butterscotch pudding and climbs onto his side of the bed so you can watch the game.

“My neck looks awful,” you blurt, unable to stop thinking about it.

“It doesn’t,” Andrei replies. “Just for now with the blood and glue.”

“The scar is going to be so obvious in pictures,” you poke at the pudding with your spoon.

“You look badass,” Andrei rolls onto his side and grins at you. “Like a warrior.”

You scowl at him, feeling like he’s making fun of you even though you know he’s completely serious. You jab at the pudding again, suddenly nauseous. “I wish this was it,” you mutter, still raspy and hoarse and you’re really hoping it’s just temporary and that the surgeon didn’t actually fuck up your vocal cords. “But I still have the radiation and then who knows…”

“One day at a time,” Andrei knocks your foot with his. “That’s what you said to me, right? Every time I’ve been recovering, it’s one day at a time.”

He’s right, for each and every one of his injuries, you had been preaching taking recovery one day at a time. You suppose it’s time to practice what you preach now. Still, your anxiety ratchets up every time you think about the c-word, darkness and worst case scenarios dancing in your head. You twist your fingers around a piece of hair, fidgeting as you mind spins.

Andrei’s hand snakes over your thigh, rubbing gently at the soft fabric of your sweats. He rests his chin just above your knee and says, “hey, look at me.” It feels weird when he talks, chin bouncing on your leg, but you look down at him.

“Hm?” You chew at your lower lip.

“One day at a time,” he repeats firmly, refusing to break eye contact with you. When you nod and he’s satisfied, he presses a kiss to your knee and rolls back onto his back. “Who do you think scores first?” He gestures to the TV, trying to lighten the mood in the room.

You play along, wanting to avoid the pain and the scary future for now. Scooping out a bite of pudding and sticking the spoon in your mouth, you hum around the dessert before teasing, “oh, it’s definitely going to be Pyotr.”

Life goes pretty much back to normal over the next few days, you’re back at work and Andrei hits the road with the team. The glue over your incision flakes off and while the cut is a vivid, angry-looking red, it’s a clean, straight line only about three inches long. You’re obsessive about applying Mederma and Vitamin E oil to help the scar fade as quickly as possible. Your voice is still a little raspy, but it’s getting better slowly.

By the end of the week, you’re working up the courage to call your doctor to schedule your radiation therapy session. It’s a terrifying thought and your hands shake every time you think about it. But Andrei had sent a text this morning, reminding you to make the call. And you don’t want to let him down, not after how supportive he’s been. So, you stare down at the contact information for your doctor’s office, wishing you could, like, use the Force to make the call.

Startling you, the phone begins to vibrate on the table, the same contact information you had been looking at flashing on the screen.

“Holy shit,” you mutter to yourself, blinking stupidly at the phone and swiping at the last second to accept the call. “Hello?”

It’s your doctor, making a personal call, the smile evident in her voice. Within minutes, you’re sobbing with relief as she tells you they ran additional tests on the tissue taken from your neck and while the initial thought and course of action had been to have radiation therapy, the surgeon was confident he had gotten all the cancerous tissue out of your neck.

“You’re cancer-free,” she tells you cheerfully. “I love making these calls.”

“Really?” You manage to squeak out the word around your tears.

“Really. You’ll have to be on a synthetic thyroid pill for the rest of your life and see me every four to six months for blood tests and evaluations,” she explains, “but I am very confident that the malignancy is gone and you won’t need radiation therapy.”

The rest of the conversation passes in a blur and you’re pretty sure the only thing you manage to say is a repeated ‘thank you, thank you, thank you’ before the call ends.

You sit on the couch, shell-shocked, gripping the little icon hanging around your neck.

That’s where Andrei finds you when he gets back from morning skate, tears dripping down your cheeks. Before he can ask, you catch his eyes and beam, “cancer free.”

Andrei lets out an unintelligible, strangled noise of joy and rushes to the couch, swinging you up in his arms and holding you to his chest in a bruising hug. He murmurs in Russian in your ear and you can feel his shoulders shake a little. “I love you,” he murmurs, while you cling to him, “I love you so much, solnyshka. So much.”

His arms are tight around your back and you hook your legs around his waist, not wanting to let go any time soon. Your face is buried in his neck and you’re not sure if his skin is damp from his shower or your tears, but you can’t stop crying.

“Did you book Mauritius?” You laugh wetly into Andrei’s shoulder.

Andrei’s laugh startles out of his chest, echoing around the living room and vibrating through your whole body. It’s your favorite sound in the whole world and you can’t wait to keep hearing it for a long time.

[shares-a-vest]

"Are you sure you don't want to just come over to my place?"

Steve bites his lip, contemplating the proposal Robin has offered him several times this week, ever since he'd told her he was having lunch with his parents.

It was Father's Day after all.

His parents would be home for at least a fortnight this time, on a quick stop-over in Hawkins before leaving again, this time for a vacation somewhere. They needed "a break" his mother had said with a laboured sigh, all whistful and longing as if she wasn't making such a statement amidst a lengthy monologue about all the friends they had just caught up with in Indianapolis.

Steve guesses they were technically a business trip. Though his recollections of such trips he'd gone as a kid (back when his parents absolutely had to bring him along) did involve the odd visit to Head Office in between social gatherings that only ever felt vaguely related to his father's business.

He turns away from the wall-mounted phone in the kitchen to look out at the patio. His father is sitting on a lounge chair, drinking a coffee and, low and behold, reading his new copy of The Bourne Supremacy Steve had handed him at breakfast.

His father was impossible to buy for - so a book was always a safe enough choice, one that would at least give him a "thank you" in return with no further commentary or snark.

"Uh..." he hums into the phone as his father turns a page, "Y'know what? Maybe later."

He gasps as his mother opens the back sliding door to the kitchen, the skirt of her yellow patterned kaftan flowing along with her. He turns back to the wall, crowding the phone base.

"Steve?" his mother asks, chuckling, "You're still on the phone!"

It isn't exactly chastising, more amused like Robin's mother gets about the pair of them talking on the phone for a solid hour at a time.

He looks over his shoulder and rolls his eyes as his best friend groans at the comment.

"Are you sure?" Robin asks, tone abruptly turning serious, "You know my dad loves you, Steve."

"I'll come by later," he insists, "Promise."

"...Okay..." she sighs before hanging up.

As he mounts the speaker, Steve is greeted with a knowing look from his mother. She is holding a glass of iced tea, fresh ice cubes tinkling away in the tall glass.

"Mom, don't," he whines, hoping to get outside and drive straight into the pool and away from any further conversation.

She holds her free hand up in surrender, tilting her head, "Okay, darling."

"I'm going for a dip," he grumbles before heading out to the pool area.

"Your mother and I are headed over to the Martens soon," his father announces as Steve passes by his reclining form.

His stomach drops and he freezes mid-stride to the outdoor chair he'd designated for his towel.

"What?" he blurts out, practically shouting as he whips around.

His father sets his book in his lap and looks up, shielding his eyes from the sun with his left hand. The sunlight reflects off his shiny watch and directly into Steve's eyes.

He grimaces, quickly mirroring his father.

"But..." he begins, trying to even out his clipped tone, "You said... We... You said we were having lunch here?"

"Your mother didn't tell you?"

"But..." he repeats, his voice catching in his throat a little, "It's Father's Day."

His father stands, stretches and gathers up the beach towel he had propped under his knees.

"We wanted to see them before we headed out."

"You're here for two weeks!" Steve argues, waving his hand as if to capture the presumed time his father has to visit his oldest and most insufferable friend.

"Steve, John and Louise's son is that busy working, he doesn't have time to be sitting around on Father's Day. So, we figured we'd meet them for lunch."

"Um..." he gulps, now blinking away tears.

He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing in and out as slowly as his growing anger will allow. The sun feels like it is burning into his bare skin, now, no longer feeling like the calming warmth he had felt when he came out to access the pool earlier.

He opens his eyes to find his father turned towards the back door.

"I'm going to Robin's."

He doesn't wait for an answer as he pushes past his father and back into the kitchen. Thankfully, his mother is nowhere to be seen as he makes a beeline for the laundry room where he'd left his work clothes from yesterday with his car keys still in the pocket of his jeans.

He grabs his Member's Only jacket from the coat rack on the way out. Even though the thing is less than weather-appropriate for a Sunday in June, right now it will suffice...

"Steve!" Robin's dad beams after he opens the front door.

The man is wearing a comically bright shirt, a Hawaiian-style button-up with a primary-coloured geometric pattern and squiggly green swirls. Steve thinks his father would hate it.

"Hi, Mr Buckley," he says, offering a tight-lipped smile as he holds out a store-bought key lime pie.

"Steve, please call me Richard," the man insists, unaware that sharing a name with his own father makes Steve want to fucking scream.

Richard takes a pie with a formal nod, his smile dropping a little as Steve shuffles about on the spot. The man looks him up and down.

Shit.

He'd forgotten about the jacket just as quickly as he had shrugged it on before speeding off in his car. But Richard waves him in with an insistent hand, thankfully not prying any further. It is probably quite obvious he isn't wearing a shirt underneath. The thought makes him itch as he becomes all too aware of the slippery fabric, its lining making the back of his neck prickle with sweat.

"Robin is in her room," Richard whispers as Steve steps inside and remembers his flip-flops too as they scuff on the threshold.

"The pie is from Melvad's, sorry," is all he thinks to say.

Richard gives him a pat on the back, just as Robin begins descending the staircase, wearing a shirt just as loud as her father's, only purple and maroon.

She smiles, though her eyes suggest she is clearly worried.

"Steve's here, darling!" Richard announces, intentionally boisterous for their close proximity.

"Oh, thank god," Robin dry-sobs, making grabby hands for the pie.

But Richard snatches it up, playing a one-sided game of keep-away that Robin doesn't even attempt to buy into. He lowers his hand with a swooping flourish, looking a little disappointed.

"Anything's better than the in-laws' dry fruit pudding," he laughs as they both examine the dessert.

"Come on," Robin says, grabbing Steve's hand and yanking him towards the stairs, "This Father's Day's theme is Richard Buckley-Approved Shirts, I've already got one ready for you. It's yellow. You'll love it."

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 2 <<Part 1

-You are sitting on a bench in the lakeside park, reading a book and enjoying the bright winter sunshine when a cold nose presses into your hand. You look up to find a blue pitbull nuzzling you for pets. “Oh hi there, baby,” you coo, scratching his broad head without a thought. You follow the leash to the owner, and are very surprised to see Mr. Wick standing there, looking endearingly embarrassed about it all. “Sorry,” he says. “He pulled me over here.” He gives the dog a look as it leans against you, getting side scritches with a blissed-out doggo look. You have a notion that Mr. Wick might be jealous, somehow, but you push it away.

“That’s ok. What a good boy. What’s his name?”

“Um…Dog.”

You smirk up at him. “Original.”

He sighs, looking at you through his hair, and it pulls at your heartstrings for some reason. You pat the bench beside you, and he accepts, though he sits as far away as he can. “He likes you,” he says, looking ruefully down at the dog. “Do you have pets?”

“No,” you admit. “I travel too much.”

“Yeah?”

You can tell he’s surprised to hear this. Most people are. But you live frugally on your barista’s salary so you can go abroad for a month or so. You’re a budget traveler for sure, but you’ve been all over the world.

“Yes. I’m going to Italy this summer.”

“Sounds nice.”

“You’ve been?”

“Several times. For work.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m retired.” He doesn’t elaborate, and you leave it for now. You don’t really talk anymore, just look at the lake, and pet his dog who leans all his solid weight against your leg. You are content in the companionable silence.

You think he is too.

- It’s interesting sometimes, watching the interpersonal pageants of the regulars. When thrice divorced Victoria Fraser-Sims lays eyes on Mr. Wick for the first time in what you have come to consider his corner, she starts coming in for a lot more no-fat double-shot sugar-free vanilla lattés. All the locals are quite…aware…of Vicky’s predatory habits. A part of you wonders if you should warn Mr. Wick, but you reckon a single man who looks like him is quite used to fending off hungry cougars.

She starts by sitting near his table in her tight workout clothes, ostensibly bending over to pick up repeatedly dropped objects, affording various views of her generous cleavage and spin-class toned rear end. You know you have no right to feel so pleased that Mr. Wick seems to ignore her.

But then she ups her game, so bold as to sit down at his table with him to chat. He talks to her politely. One day, she actually succeeds in making him laugh. You hear it, loosed like an arrow that strikes you from across the room.

You have zero right to be jealous, of course, but you can’t help it. You and Mr. Wick have a thing.

Maybe just in your own head, but still.

But maybe they would be a good couple, you reason sadly, making yourself think realistically. Closer to the same age. And he does seem so lonely.

A few days later they come in the door together, seeming content, and your heart plummets to your feet. Holy shit, she actually pulled it off. They’re dating, you’re perfectly convinced.

In that moment you decide to back off. Mr. Wick is at least twenty years your elder. What the fuck would he want with an awkward little gremlin like you? It’s amazing sometimes, how well you can delude yourself. A curse of having a vivid imagination, perhaps. He’s just polite, and you are kind to him, because he seems a little broken. You resolve to behave. No more quips. No more teasing. From this day forward it shall be only, Here’s your coffee, yes sir, have a good day.

You’ve never been terribly good at keeping resolutions, but you’re going to try.

-Your determination to leave Mr. Wick alone is timed conveniently with a new hire who is around your age. He is and cute, and you get on immediately. Your flirting is fairly harmless, though you know the shop is filled with loud laughter from the two of you when your shifts coincide. Sometimes you feel Mr. Wick looking over at you after you’ve had a good chortle, and you sense he is annoyed.

Once, you catch him glaring at Brian’s back like he might like to carve the boy’s liver.

You try to quiet down, but it never really lasts. It’s been a while, since you’ve met someone who you click with so well. A comrade makes working in the service industry slightly more endurable, after all.

-One day, you burn yourself on the steamer wand while Mr. Wick is waiting for his order. Maybe it’s the volume of the unladylike expletive that spills from your lips, but he does not hesitate to come around the counter to check on you. It hurts like a motherfucker, and while you blink back tears you are quick to dig out ice to put on it. He even more quickly bats it into the sink, flipping the faucet on. “Cold water is better.”

Before you know it he is guiding your wrist into the stream with a gentle but exacting grip. “Hold that there,” he instructs. You can’t fathom disobeying him.

Brian stares rather dumbfoundedly at the customer behind the counter. “Um…sir? You can’t be back here.”

 “Then get her the first aid kit instead of standing there looking useless,” he snaps, and the young man jumps into action, scurrying away.

John gives a low whistle once you’ve finished with the cold water, blotting you dry at the butt end of the counter. “You got yourself good.”

“It’s not the first time,” you sigh. You’re not particularly clumsy, but it happens when you’re juggling five things at once to keep the drink orders moving.

John bandages the burn for you, frowning at the salve provided in the first aid kit that expired years ago, but deciding it will do in a pinch. His long-fingered hands are precise, but gentle, and as he touches you, you feel your brain turn to mush. You can’t remember the last time someone took care of you like this.

Maybe he’s not mad at you after all.

Later that day you appear from the back, to find a little paper pharmacy bag on the counter with your name written in concise black print. Inside there is more ointment, large Band-aids, and a little Snickers chocolate bar.

How did he know it’s your favorite?

Even though you didn’t see him come or go, you know it was Mr. Wick, and this small gesture touches you to tips of your toes.

[dotster001]

im not certain if you're taking requests or if you even write crowley so if you don't, please ignore this and have a lovely day :)

reader who has a crush on crowley and shows this by stealing his coat and top hat at any oppertunity, because thievery is my love language and also his coat looks really nice and comfy.

Crow(ley) Brain

A/N: I really liked how this came out. Hope it was what you were looking for 😁

3k followers masterlist

CW:It's in my pinned post, and I've mentioned this in a couple posts, but if this is the first of my stuff you've read, I view NRC as an actual college, so reader here is 18+. If it makes you more comfy, imagine it as grad school age.

Present Day

Dire was getting ready for his work as headmaster, but he couldn't find his mask. He'd taken it off the night before so that he could turn your cuddle session into a full on makeout session. He could have sworn it was on the side table, but it was just…gone. 

"You haven't seen my mask, have you?" He asked as he started lifting up blankets and pillows and his various shiny things he kept on the floor.

"No," you said simply.

He turned back around, and you were fully dressed in his hat, mask, and coat, the coat hanging haphazardly off your shoulders.

"You're certain you haven't seen my mask?" he said with a smirk.

"Nope."

He walked up to you, lifting the mask slightly off your face so that he could kiss the tip of your nose.

"Well, you know, if I don't have my stuff, I can't go to work, and you can't go to class, cause I'll be lonely."

You gave the fakest gasp he's ever heard. "Oh no!"

He sighed.

"I can be generous with my lover. Five more minutes together, then you'll give me back my stuff."

You pouted. "25 minutes."

"Deal."

He really should not even bother looking anymore. Long before you'd started dating, you'd shown your hand. He just could forget all about it when you smiled at him so innocently.

6 months prior…

"Listen, prefect, the rest of the boys and I are starting to get suspicious," Ace whispered as you cycled through your keys. You'd bought a lot off of Sam, so you couldn't be sure which one was the one you were looking for.

"About what?"

"Well, you said that we were doing this to prank Crowley, but we aren't sure if that's true."

"Huh?"

"Look, the rest will never say it to your face, but you spend far too much time hanging out with the headmage for it to be a normal thing."

"I'm not following your logic."

Ace exhaled heavily. "Well, some of the guys think, not necessarily me, but some of them, think that-"

"YOU'RE IN LOVE WITH THE HEADMAGE, HENCHHUMAN!" a gray blob shouted as it rammed into you, making you drop all the keys and lose your place.

"Sevens! Grim! You're supposed to keep watching at the end of the hall!"

"You don't need six people guarding a set of stairs and a hallway that doesn't spawn more than 40 feet," Grim folded his arms with a harrumph.

By sheer luck, you found the key you needed on the first try, and opened the headmage's office.

"What makes you think I'm in love with the headmage?" you asked with a scowl. "Nevermind, just watch the door. We'll discuss your idiocy later."

You stomped into the room, Grim right behind you.

"Grim! I said-"

"Ace can watch the door just fine! You can't avoid this conversation! Even Jack and Deuce are suspicious, and they don't notice anything!"

You glared, before digging through Crowley's desk, looking for something, anything, to take.

"That doesn't make any sense. If I loved Crowley, why would I rob him?"

"Perhaps to get his attention," the devil in question boomed directly behind you. Both you and Grim froze, and you stared at the open door.

"Ace!" You whined.

He peeked in, saw Crowley, and grimaced, before giving a half hearted,

"Um, caw caw…."

"Too late, Ace!" You snapped.

"He didn't come through the door!" He snapped back.

"Correct. In my geniusness, I laid a trap for you!"

You pouted. Sam must have sold you out. Your crew was stupid, but they were rock solid.

You turned to Crowley, putting your most innocent grin on.

"What can I do for you, headmage?"

"I'd like my things back, my darling crow," he hummed.

"Things?" Sweet, innocent, give him nothing to work with.

"You got sloppy, darling," he smirked, hooking a clawed finger under the chain you were wearing, revealing your gold pendant.

Or, more accurately, his gold pendant.

"I'll admit, you had me fooled for a while, but even the dimmest will notice if you literally flaunt your stolen trinkets. Although," he paused, tilting his head to the side, "it does suit you." He hummed for a moment, then, "Keep it."

"Huh?"

"I want you to keep it." He seemed to remember Ace and Grim were there, and he gave a cough.

"You two. I have the mastermind. Get out of here before I change my mind."

Ace and Grim sprinted away without a glance back. Cowards.

You pouted, until you felt the claw from earlier tilting your chin up.

"What am I going to do with you, prefect?" He muttered, and in a way that you felt like you weren't actually meant to hear.

"I suppose all I can do is give you the attention you seem to crave." His smile would light up your world anyway.

4 months prior….

But it wasn't about attention. Which is why, even though you were Crowley's partner of two months, you still stole his stuff.

But today? Today was your masterpiece! You'd somehow managed to steal his cloak. You felt bad as hell.

And, since you two were dating, you were going to get away with it! Everyone assumes it was a sweet gesture, intended to keep a cold partner warm, or a possessive gesture, intended to show everyone who you belonged to. Either way? No one questioned you.

No one but the man himself, who had snuck up behind you in the courtyard and placed both his hands on your shoulders.

"Morning, my radiant prefect," he hummed, clearly grinning at how stiff you'd gotten. "I thought we had fixed our little thieving issue. Have you felt I've been neglecting you?" He nuzzled into your neck, pressing a ticklish kiss there.

"Nope. Just wanted to take it," you answered. You decided that honesty was what would make this relationship work.

"Oh? Any reason?" He asked, gently attempting to take it off your shoulders, while you sidestepped. To an outsider, it would look like two lovers doing a dance, not a headmage trying to steal his coat back.

"If I told you, it would spoil the fun of the mystery for you!" You sang as you expertly freed yourself and skipped away.

2 months prior…

"You're dating the man. Literally, you want his hat, ask for it!" Sebek growled. 

Ace was no longer your lookout when robbing your boyfriend. And Jack's new job was distracting Grim. You'd learned your lesson.

And you were thinking you were learning a new one. Sebek was too loud to be a lookout. You'd have to promote Epel or Deuce next round.

"It's not as exciting like that!" You growled, using the key you'd stolen to unlock his room.

"I don't understand! It seems foolish!"

"I agree." Crowley was always a step ahead of you these days. It was infuriating.

"I am more than happy to just give you my hat," he said, plopping his hat on your head. "In fact, I love taking every opportunity to show your admirers that you are mine!"

Sebek raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

You pouted. "It's not about that."

"Then what is it about?" He gave a booming laugh, pushing his hat over your eyes.

"How do I phrase this," you muttered, giggling as you pulled the hat back up. "You know how when you see something shiny, you can't resist the urge to take it?"

"And you feel like that about my stuff?"

"Sort of," you groaned in frustration, then perked back up, an idea in your head. "Okay, you know how when you see something cute, you just are filled with such joy that you want to squeeze it until it pops? Well, I see you, and I'm filled with so many emotions, and so much joy, that I just want to take your stuff and giggle!"

"That," Crowley breathed heavily, "is the sweetest thing I've ever heard!" He started sobbing, scooping you into his arms and holding you there, his hat falling to the ground.

"I shall, uh, take my leave," Sebek said with a cough as your boyfriend clung to you.

Present day…

"Twenty five minutes up," Crowley groaned. "Now be good, and give me my stuff back."

You pouted, but slowly removed the hat, mask, and cloak, handing them back with a growl.

He laughed lightly. "I know, dearest, but I need them for work. You'll have a chance to take them again tomorrow."

He pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, then your nose, then a long kiss to your lips.

"I hope I get to see you today."

"Me too," you whispered. Crowley left with a grin.

When you were certain he was gone, you put on your new ring. Or more accurately.

His old ring.

[harryforvogue]

hello. here she finally is, the harry and mia blurb (which i also offer as the 200k reads celebration story). i hope you like her. she's like 7k words so she DID take some years off my life but it's okay. as long as YOU guys are happy hehe. there is basically no smut in this, but i like to think it's quirky and funny. happy reading! and thank you, as always, for you patience <3

i literally cannot come up with a synopsis for this so. yeah. just read it THANKS LOVE YOU BYE!

***

Just two weeks ago, Harry and Mia had been invited to a birthday party.

To be specific, which is very necessary in this situation, they were invited to a kid’s birthday party. Harry had promoted one of his employees to a high position, and as a thank you, the woman had invited Harry and a plus one to her child’s 6th birthday party. Harry had looked down at the invitation wondering if there was a typo. He couldn’t fathom the idea of going to a regular birthday party, much less a kid’s one.

But his employee had insisted. And Harry had hinted that taking him out for lunch or something would be even better in his books, but the women refused to budge. So a few days later, Harry and Mia stood in a venue with drinks in their hands, dodging children left and right.

His arm was slung around her waist. Mia was quiet for some time, a pensive look on her face as she watched the child who was “it” bellow, “CHAAAARGE” before sprinting to tag the other kids. Usually, something like this would make her twitchy, but something about her still figure and soft brown eyes made him ask, “What do you think? Should we get one?”

Mia had blinked at him. “A kid?”

“No, a bouncy house.”

“Oh. Um. Well, I wouldn’t be opposed, but…”

“Mia. Never mind. Yes, a kid.” He sighed deeply and slanted his head towards her, his brows raised. “Thoughts?”

“I mean…” They’d talked about it before. And both of them wanted children. But it seemed like something that would happen after the wedding. But even that was really close – in three short months. “You know I want your kids.”

Harry laughed softly and shook his head. “You always emphasize that they’d be mine as if I’d expect them to be somebody else.”

“Well, you know,” she smiled back, nudging his shoulder with hers. “I have to remind you that they’ll all have your big head.”

“You love my big head.”

“I do.” She took a sip of her drink. “And you? Think we should get on it?”

If it were up to Harry, he would have liked to wait just a year more. He wasn’t in a rush. Though recently he had been enjoying the idea of having a baby to erase, and the feeling was always tainted by terror. “Maybe when my job is a little…”

Mia nodded. “Yeah.”

Harry had been so busy recently. His father’s company had just bought another, right before the end of the fiscal year. They had so much to work on for reports. It was driving him insane and causing him to work overtime. He just needed to get over his hurdle. And then he’d relax. He’d come home on time. He’d have more time to take Mia out rather than force her to attend a birthday with him. This felt like work anyways.

“But I do look forward to it,” he’d insisted, kissing the top of her head. He watched as two kids ran into each other and began sobbing on the floor. “Well. Mostly.”

A week later, Mia had come out of the bathroom at night with a pregnancy test in her hand. Her eyes were wide, hesitant. “I thought it would be funny,” she said, “if it was negative because I missed a period and–” 

She handed him the test. “You said you wanted kids a little later… what if we had one in nine months?” She looked at the wall, dazed. “Well. Seven months really, if I’m doing the math correctly. Which I’m probably not. You know what? It doesn’t matter. I think you get the point.”

Harry peered down at the test. It was a very solid positive. He’s silent for a moment. Then – “Holy shit.”

“I know,” Mia whispered, joining him on the bed. “It’s a lot. But we’ve talked about it, right? And we’re getting married and you know it was gonna happen eventually. I mean–”

“Mia.”

“-- I’m just saying that with the amount of sex you and I have, protected or not, it’s totally a miracle that we haven’t gotten pregnant already. And yeah I know we ditched the protection, and birth control doesn’t always work but–”

“Mia.”

“--what I’m trying to explain is that I’m totally okay with this. I might be freaking out a little bit and I might have had a mini panic attack in the bathroom but I really just–”

“Mia.”

She buried her face in her hands. “What?”

“I fucking love you.”

He’d taken her wrists and tugged. When she gave up and let him, he grabbed her face and kissed her so hard, she squeaked in surprise, steadying herself with a hand on his chest. “That,” he murmured through the kisses, “was such a Mia way of telling me. You are unbelievable. I’m never going to get used to you.”

Her eyes had immediately welled with tears. “Yeah? This is all right? We can work with this right? I mean, I’ll likely have to get the dress tailored again but I don’t think I’ll be showing that much in two months.” She leaned in and kissed him again and again until he felt her tears on his own face.

“This is perfect,” he’d whispered, holding her tight until she was gasping for breath. “I fucking– Mia. Mia. You make it so hard when you give me all these gifts.” And then he was grabbing her again, making her straddle him. He kissed her again and again, unwilling to take breaks in between even when his lungs were aching for air.

“You,” he said softly, “are everything. Listen to me. Everything. And we’re going to celebrate tomorrow, okay? Anything you want. All day. Nobody can bother us. How’s that sound, hm?” He kissed her. “I love you. I love you so much I can’t think straight.”

When Mia fell asleep on his chest that night, his mind was racing with ideas on what they could do tomorrow. What could he do that could compare with the things she’s done for him? He held her tight. He was going to be the best damned father anyone had ever met. He couldn’t be anything less than that.

***

The next morning, Harry’s phone begins to ring. And it continues to ring until Mia groans and reaches over him to grab it. She looks down at the caller ID with squinted eyes. It’s as if a bucket filled with ice water has been thrown over her.

“Hey,” she whispers to Harry, pushing his shoulder to wake him. “It’s your father.”

He tucks his head against her neck. “Ignore it.” His voice is raspy.

She lets it ring until it stops. “You already have two missed calls from him. What if something happened? Like the company suddenly went bankrupt overnight? Like something with the stocks. Like the Great Depression? Do you know how bad the Great Depression was?”

“Then I guess I’m unemployed. I’m so sad.” He doesn’t sound sad at all. His arm that’s thrown over her waist tightens and he pulls her back down until she’s against the pillows again. “Go back to sleep.”

“Fine, but don’t blame me when you wake up destitute.” She closes her eyes when Harry’s warm body begins soothing her back into a peaceful state. Her eyes are heavy again. Nothing is more comfortable than Harry’s hold lulling her to sleep.

And then Harry’s phone rings again. It rings and rings until Harry finally raises his head and swears under his breath. He grabs his phone and puts it to his ear. “Hello,” he answers in a very not so kind voice.

“Harry,” Mia hears his father’s voice through the phone. She opens her eyes and glances up at Harry. “Why haven’t you been taking my calls?”

“It’s 5 in the morning on a Sunday,” Harry replies tensely.

“You will be having dinner with your step mother and I tonight.”

He doesn’t even bother asking. He just demands it. Mia watches Harry rub his eyes and sit up, turning away from her onto his side. “I’ve got plans tonight. Maybe another night.”

“No, tonight. I’ll be out of the country next week.”

“I can’t tonight.”

“You may bring Amelia as well.”

Harry pauses. He doesn’t correct him about her name as he always does. “I’d have to ask her.”

“I need to speak to you urgently about a matter regarding the company.”

“We can do this over a video call.”

“Harry, I’m not asking you. I will send you an address and you will show up. With your girlfriend or not, it matters little to me. This is an important conversation we must have.”

“Fiancée, actually. Which I’ve told you,” he says. He takes a breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. Mia knows Harry’s getting angry at his father from the long pauses he keeps taking. She knows he’s trying to calm himself down before he says something completely out of turn. She sits up and rests her head on his back, holding onto his arm.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, rubbing her hair against him. “We can go.”

He turns his head to look at her, his eyes wide. He pulls the phone away. “I wanted to celebrate with you.”

“We can do it another time.”

“No. This needs to be celebrated immediately.”

She smiles sleepily, raising her head to look at him. “We have, like, seven months to celebrate.”

His jaw tenses as he brings his phone back to his ear. She nods encouragingly and then lays back on her side, tucking herself under the warm sheets. She feels him staring at her a few seconds before she hears his soft voice say to his father, “We will be there.”

“Good,” his father says. “I will send over the details.”

“All right. Bye.”

She hears him turn his ringer off and then set his phone to the side. He gathers her into his arms and holds her close. His lips press to the top of her head. “I’m really sorry, Mia.”

“Don’t be,” she laughs softly. “Nothing we haven’t done before.”

“I know. But still.” His voice is quiet and sad. “I wanted to celebrate.” His hand slides over her stomach. “Take you somewhere nice.”

“I’m sure the restaurant your father picks will be nice.”

“I wanted to take you somewhere nice and alone.”

“We can do that any other day.”

He’s quiet again. “Yeah.” Before she falls asleep, she hears Harry apologizing again, barely audible.

***

Mia walks in on Harry pulling his freshly tied tie off his neck. He mutters a swear and tosses it on the bed and unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt, pulling his collar open. With a deep breath, he makes eye contact with Mia through the mirror. She’s in a long summer dress and white sneakers, pulling her jacket on. She’s done her hair in loose curls and pinned the front pieces out of her face. She smiles at him, but he doesn’t smile back, clearly lost in his thoughts. 

“Hey,” she says, frowning. She takes his hand and walks around to stand in front of him. “It’s okay.”

His eyes are distant. “I want a day off with just you and me. I’ve been working so much, I feel like I’ve barely seen you. And we live together.”

Mia presses his hand to her cheek. She feels his knuckles gently caress her skin upon contact. “I know. But things come up. We can have a day to ourselves next week.” She frowns deeper. “Oh wait. We promised Amara and Zack we’d do a double date.”

At the reminder of the plan, Harry looks pained. “We can just not show up.”

“That would piss him off.”

“Who cares? I’m pissed off right now.”

Mia stands on her tiptoes, wrapping her arms around his neck. A smile takes her face again, and she’s suddenly leaning in to gently kiss the corner of his mouth. “Well, I hope you know that you’re so cute when you’re pissed off.”

“I’m serious.” His voice loses a bit of its agitated tone. He holds her waist.

“As am I. Now come on. Stop brooding and look a little more happy. I’m having your child, after all. You owe me smiles for the next seven months.”

At that reminder, his eyes light up and one dimple appears. Then another. He holds her face and tugs her closer. “You’re absolutely right.”

She grins and then melts into the embrace when Harry kisses her. “I am always right.”

Mia doesn’t know how some people are able to keep the news as a secret until their partner is ready to take it. When she looked down at the positive pregnancy test last night, her first thought was to tell Harry. There was no way she’d be able to keep it to herself.

She lost count of how many times he whispered “thank you” and “I love you”.

Harry was in such a mess, they weren’t actually able to make love like she thought they would. Every time Harry would hold her face to kiss her, he’d tear up again and drop his head, whispering the words again, mixed with a healthy and colorful amount of soft, incredulous swears.

“I was thinking, actually,” he murmurs once he pulls away. He twists a strand of her hair around his finger. “We should go for a vacation. To celebrate, I mean.”

Mia says, “You know I am always ready for a getaway.”

“Mhm.” He kisses her again. “And when we come back, we can start telling people? Is that a thing that you do so early?”

“Well, I don’t have any other children so it’s hard for me to know.”

“Then maybe we wait until the second trimester.”

“Should we do a gender reveal party?”

Harry thinks about it as he kisses her once more. “Dunno. I mean, I would totally be okay with finding out the day off.”

Mia’s eyes light up. “I was thinking that too.” She slides her hands down his shoulders, fixing his collar along the way. “I would be happy with a boy or a girl.”

“Me too.”

“And should we do something like a big reveal for our friends and parents? No wait. I’d actually rather tell my parents in person.”

“Is that where our vacation will be? Staten Island?”

She fakes a shudder. “Don’t even joke about that.”

He kisses her for a final time, a very long kiss that has her pressing herself against him, his hands on her waist, feeling the warmth of her skin. And when he pulls away, Mia laughs softly and wipes his mouth. “Lipstick,” she whispers. Harry cleans up the corner of her mouth with his own thumb. “We should head out soon.”

Harry sighs deeply and nods. “Let’s get this over with, hm?”

“Let’s.”

***

Despite having been with Harry for four years, it still shocks her whenever they go out to a place as fancy as this. Because although Harry and her do go to expensive places, they’re never as high end as the ones his father picks. Harry complains that the super expensive places don’t have edible food, which she has to agree with. Looking at the menu in her hands, she scans it for anything that she even recognizes.

Most of the time, she has to elbow Harry gently and ask him what these dishes are. Unfortunately, Harry is having a discussion with his father about the company, something she usually just tunes out.

At least she’s decided what drink to have. And the post dinner dessert.

Harry jokes with her that she should listen to how the company is run or at least know its primary functions. He says that if he ever got sick, she’d have to step in to run the company for him. Mia’s not all that sure how much of that is the truth. They wouldn’t just give the company to anybody, right? Harry reminds her that his father handed a large part of the company over to him despite Harry not having the experience. Mia argues that that is a classic story of nepotism. Harry argues back that him giving her his job is also nepotism.

You really can’t win with rich people, Mia says, ending the conversation there.

After they’ve ordered (Mia playing it safe by ordering exactly what Harry does), they sit in relative silence until Harry’s father clears his throat and says, “Well, I have news to give you, Harry. In fact, tomorrow morning, we can start on the paperwork.”

Harry says, “Paperwork?”

“Yes. I’m sure you know of all the board meetings we’ve been having over the course of the past two months, and there have been rumors here and there, but I’d like to actually come straight to you to say it. I am stepping down as chief executive officer.”

Harry takes a sip of his water. “Great. Who’s the unlucky fellow that gets to take your place? Is this about voting? I told you having an even number of board executives was a bad idea for this very reason.”

Something flashes over Harry’s father’s face. Surprise, perhaps. “Well, I wouldn’t just hand the position over to just anybody.”

“Right. Do you want me to look over performance reviews and applications?”

“Harry,” Mia says softly.

He glances down at her and then his father. Then his step mother. Realization dawns. “Oh.”

“Yes. I will be passing duties over to you.”

Mia watches the expressions pass over his face. Confusion, surprise, then… something else.

“It was always set in stone that I would pass the company to you, son. I did think I would continue to be CEO for at least another 2 years, but I think it’s an excellent time for me to retire. The company is stable. The revenues have increased every year, our profit margins are better than ever. There are few fires to put out in distinct subsidiaries, but this previous quarter has been exceptional.”

“Right.”

“It is not only because you’re my son. It’s also because of your commitment to the company. You have been strict in hiring and following the companies values. Your negotiating skills have never been more excellent. We gained a new subsidiary that brings in massive amount of profits because of you. The contracts you’ve renewed this year alone are commenable. You’ve put in the work and you deserve this position.”

“Right.”

“We will start the paperwork tomorrow.”

Mia realizes what’s on Harry’s face. Dread.

Because Harry’s never wanted that position. She knows it. Sometimes, he’d reveal to her that it was the only position left for him if he were to excel past his current one, and that he wasn’t sure how he’d react to the news. They all thought it would be a couple more years until this discussion was brought up.

But now it’s here. Harry is reaching for his water again, taking slow slips in thought.

The silence is unnerving. Mia puts on a bright smile and exclaims, “This is wonderful news! Congratulations, Harry!”

His step mother raises her glass in a toast and everyone except Harry clink theirs together. “Congratulations!”

“I understand it’s a shock,” his father says after drinking his wine. “But it is for the best of the company. I leave it in good hands.” He glances up at the waiter. “Thank you.”

As the plates are getting set in front of them, Mia puts her hand on top of Harry’s under the table. She notices that his fingers are cold, so she rubs them softly.

“You know what?” Harry suddenly says when the waiter leaves. He pulls his hand out from under hers abruptly. “I’ve got to get some air. I’ll be right back.” He pushes his chair out. “Excuse me.”

Mia watches him quickly walk out of the restaurant while undoing one more button of his shirt. Normally, she’d be annoyed that she’s been left with the shark of a father he has, but now, concern runs through her. She’s already on the edge of her seat when Harry mutters an apology to the host and exists.

She glances back at his father and step mother. They don’t actually look perturbed.

“I would have thought he’d gotten used to all this,” his step mother says, cutting into her steak carefully. “Does it always take him time to get used to something?”

“Yes,” his father says, chewing already. “He’ll be fine.” He looks at Mia. “How have you been, Amelia? The wedding planning is complete, yes? How’s the job going? You know, my offer at the company still stands. Well, now it’ll have to go through Harry, but I’m sure that the position he can get you would pay far better than the one you currently h–”

“Actually,” Mia says, standing up. She winces at the way her chair screeches against the floor. “I am so sorry. I’m, um, I’m going to check on Harry.”

His father waves his fork in the air. “Go on ahead. Talk some sense into him.”

She offers a nod of some kind and then walks out, trailing after Harry. She also apologies to the host and promises her return.

He hasn’t gone too far. In fact, he’s right out the restaurant, pacing with his hands tucked into his pockets. 

“Harry.” She jogs over to him, grabbing his blazer sleeve, stopping him in his step. “Hey. Hi.”

He looks at her with frantic eyes. “I’m not taking that job. I can’t take it. I can’t.”

“Okay. That’s okay.”

He stares at her for a moment before wrapping his arms around her, hugging her tight against his front. His heart is beating fast. “Mia. I don’t– Mia.”

“It’s okay.” She feels him drop his head to her shoulder. He takes a deep, shaky breath.

“I don’t want to be the CEO.”

She rubs his back. “I know.”

“I always thought it would be fine, yeah? Take on a few more responsibilities. But…”

“It’s just not what you want.”

“Is it wrong? I’ve always known, so is it cheating by refusing now? I mean. I know people who would kill for this job. My father probably thinks I’m being ungrateful.”

Mia shakes her head. “Well, you’re not. You’re trying your best, and this just doesn’t interest you. You don’t want it.”

“Maybe 5 years ago it’s what I would have wanted. I wanted to prove that I could be something big. Prove it to my dad. But things are different now. I don’t want to prove anything to anyone. I feel as if I’m different. You and I are different.” He squeezes her. 

“I understand,” she whispers. “I know.”

“What difference will it make anyways? We’re more than comfortable right now. I’m miserable at my job and I will be miserable as CEO.”

This is news to her. “I thought you were enjoying it a bit more.”

“No.” His voice is muffled against her dress. “You think I like a job that doesn’t allow me to see you?” He suddenly lifts his head and holds her waist tight. “Mia, this past week alone, I’ve come home so late that you’re already asleep. I don’t want that.” She sees something like fear in his eyes. “I didn’t pay attention to you the first time. And look what that did to our relationship. It was entirely my fault. I can’t do that again. I can’t handle that. I won’t ever show up. But that’s what we agreed on all those years ago, right? That I’d be there?”

“Harry…”

“I’ve been so good at showing up and that’ll all change if I take the job. There’s a reason why my parents never worked out. Why I never had a good relationship with my dad.” His eyes are wide, frantic. “I can’t be my father. I don’t want to be. I would never want to be. I can’t do that to you. I can’t do that to…” He puts a hesitant hand on her stomach. “God, I’d hate myself if I did that.”

“Harry…” Mia surges forward and throws herself at him, hugging him so tight, she feels her own ribs hurting. He holds her just as tight, head against her shoulder once more. “Oh, I love you, you beautiful person. I love you so much.”

“Yeah?” he whispers, turning his head to kiss her cheek. “Is that all right, then? If I say no?”

“I think you should say no, then quit your current job and let me be the income earner for the rest of the year. Won’t be able to pay for the wedding though. You’ll have to chip in. A lot.”

Harry chokes out a laugh. “We’ll honeymoon for the rest of the year.”

“As long as it’s not in Staten Island,” she giggles, planting kisses after kisses on his jaw. “I love you. Got that? I love you always.”

He pulls away slightly to look at her, apprehension in his eyes. “Always? Are you sure? It’s…it’s not easy loving me.”

Harry’s never been the type to ask Mia to remind him she loves him. She knows he knows that she adores him more than anything. But now, he’s asking, and he’s looking so hopeful with his pretty green eyes under the golden lights outside the restaurant. He’s looking all over her face, his gaze often lingering on her mouth.

“Are you kidding me?,” she suddenly laughs. “Harry. You know loving you has never been difficult for me. And not to mention, you’re kinda stuck with me. We’re reproducing after all.”

Harry groans. “Is that how you’re going to break the news to everyone? Hey guys, just wanted to say that my fiancé and I did have unprotected sex—“

“Wait! That’s basically what people say when they’re like oh yeah we’re trying. Like hmm okay, but we know exactly what’s going on no matter how cute you make it sound!”

“And yet it’s still better than we banged and here we are.”

Mia smiles. “But we did bang and here we are indeed.”

“Listen.” He takes her clip out of her hair and fixes her short strands back again. “Tell your friends however you’d like. But my family will be told a very specific, expensive way.”

“Like a party? You don’t like them.”

Harry shrugs. “I don’t seem to oppose the idea of celebrating such a big thing, though. As long as I get to kick people out on time.”

“But with Amara and Zack—“

“I give you full control.”

“Good. I want to make them cry.” She looks very determined. “I want them to be fighting for their life. Choking, even.”

Harry says, “Er, yeah. Whatever you want.”

“Maybe we can tell your father and step mother right now.”

Harry drags the back of his hand against her cheek. “Yeah?”

“I mean, you’re going to have to give a reason why you’re declining. And you can’t just say it’s because you love me so so so so so much.”

“Oh yeah? And why not?” He squishes her face, pulling her close, his voice tender. “Why can’t I refuse on the basis of loving my fiancée so so so so much?”

Her eyes light up. “Because that’s super out of character for you. He might think you’re sick. Although I’d love to see the look on his face.”

“Me too. He might have a heart attack at the idea of his son being happy.”

Mia suddenly frowns. “Don’t say that. That makes me really angry.”

“I know. Hey. We should go and make him angry instead, hm?”

“I like the way you think, Styles.”

He smiles and kisses her quickly. “Come on.” He takes her hand. “Let’s ruin their day.”

They share one more look before they head back inside. When they reach the table, they’re not surprised to see their plates untouched and the others nearly finished. They sit back down. 

“Have you finished with your dramatics?” Harry’s father says calmly.

“I will be refusing the promotion.”

Well, shit, Mia thinks. Just getting straight to it then.

His father’s eyes narrow as he slowly puts his fork down. He then takes a sip of his wine. Finally, he clasps his hands on the table. “And why, might I ask?”

“I have other priorities I need to focus on.”

“Something that is more important than your career?”

“Yes.”

“There is nothing more important to a man than his career.” His father shakes his head. “I’m disappointed. I wish you’d have learned this by now. You should take time to think this over. It won’t even be such a big difference.”

Harry says, “I have a different future in mind for myself. Something I think is more worthwhile.”

His father’s eyes narrow some more before they turn on Mia. “And I assume this decision is due to your influence as well.”

“I don’t think I influence Harry to do anything. I like to think I just encourage him.” Mia hates how she doesn’t sound confident in herself. “This is something we both happen to believe in.”

“He would not make this decision if it weren’t for you.”

Mia catches the bitter, criticizing tone, and so does Harry. She can tell by the way he tenses.

“Do not,” he says tightly, “speak to her like that. I am refusing the position and that is my final answer.”

Mia’s surprised when Harry’s getting up to leave. She scrambles to do the same, taking his outstretched hand. “Um. Goodnight,” she says even though Harry’s already dragging her away. The look on his father and step mother’s face is priceless. Mia wishes she could photograph it, blow it up, and put it on a blanket. It would make for an excellent anniversary gift.

Harry’s walking so fast, she needs to jog a little to keep up with him. When they get to the car, he stops and looks up at the sky. He laughs a little, but Mia’s sure he’s not finding anything particularly amusing. “Well, shit.”

“Uh, is he going to come after us?”

“Of course not.”

“Right.” She needs to say something to make him feel better. Anything. Anything ridiculous. “I wished we packed up the food. It looked really good.”

It works. He snorts and unlocks the car, releasing her hand. “Relax. I’ll feed you. Let that be the least of your worries.”

They sit in the car, but Harry doesn’t start it right away. Instead, he holds the steering wheel and takes several more deep breaths. After a moment of silence, Harry puts his head on the wheel.

Mia rubs his back. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

Harry doesn’t reply for some time. His eyes are shut, his eyebrows furrowed. She continues to rub his back and lean over to kiss his curls.

Finally, his eyes open and he sits back up. He secures his seatbelt and then starts the car. “Okay. Let’s go home. No wait. We have to feed you first. Then we go home.”

“We can place an order for pickup.”

“An excellent idea. Let’s do that.” He gives her a pointed look. “Pick a place and order from it. Without any fuss.”

Mia smiles. “Yes, sir.”

His eyes narrow and he leans in for a kiss. “Good.”

He puts the car in drive.

***

“Should we buy a baby name book? I saw one the other day that had a thousand in them.” Mia bites down aggressively on her crouton.

“I’m pretty sure we can agree on a name collectively,” Harry answers.

“We don’t ever agree on anything collectively.”

“Touch.”

“This is really good. Are you sure you don’t want to try it?”

He looks at the monstrosity in front of her. A caesar salad but she’s coated it with pickle relish instead, and her pasta is covered with so much cheese and oregano, he can barely see the pasta underneath. She twirls her pasta on her fork and then stabs her relish covered romaine lettuce, shoveling it all into her mouth.

“No, thank you,” he says. “I’m sure it’s…very delicious.”

“Not even my drink?”

She’s having orange Fanta to top it all off. “I’m okay, baby. You know, if we weren’t sure that you were pregnant before, we’re definitely sure now.”

“You’ve gotta remind me that I need to get a doctor’s appointment. I can get it for Friday afternoon if that works for you.”

She says it so casually, it makes him pause, his drink half way to his lips. He puts his glass down. “No. I’ll get leave for it.”

She glances at him. “You don't have to. I mean I’m sure you've got a lot to talk about with your dad and taking off in the middle of the week won’t be so good.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He frowns. “It’s time your schedule stopped depending on mine. You know what? I should start taking three days off a week.”

“You already come home early on Fridays.”

“They can survive another day without me.”

Mia shoves another crouton in her mouth. “You know I love having you in the house. Maybe if you can't get another day off, you can work from home.”

“Yes.” His mind is spinning with possibilities. “That’s a good idea too.”

“I am full of them.”

Harry takes his napkin and leans over the table, gently wiping the corner of her mouth. “You sure are.”

Mia quickly finishes up her food. Harry passes her water to have insead of the Fanta and she drinks it down quickly before getting up and walking over to his side. He spreads his legs when he sees her coming, patting his thigh. She falls into his lap easily.

“Hey,” she whispers, tucking her head against his shoulder. “I’m a little scared.”

His arms are tight around her immediately. “Of my father? Don’t worry about that. I’ll handle it.”

She holds his shirt tightly. “No it’s not that. I know you can deals with him.”

“Then what is it, baby?” He kisses her forehead and runs his fingers through her hair. “Tell me.”

She’s quiet for a moment until she says, “What if I’m not a good parent?”

“Oh, Mia.”

“I mean, I wasn’t even around kids at any point in my life. And I don’t have young siblings. I’m going to have to buy a ton of parenting books. I don’t even know anything. Did you know that you’re not supposed to warm milk up in the microwave for babies?”

Harry gently tugs her chin up so she can look at him. “Mia, between us, I think I should be the most worried about being a bad parent.”

“Harry, I know you’re going to be the best dad, and I’ve never been more confident of anything in my life. But me? I don’t know. I just learned how to start caring for myself, and sometimes it feels like I’m still learning. You’re going to be perfect though.”

He shakes his head. “There’s no such thing as a perfect parent. There’s a big difference between a good parent and a bad one though.” He takes a breath. “We are going to try our best. Right? Isn’t that all we can do?”

“Right,” she whispers, turning her face against his neck, her nose against the column of his throat. “Together.”

“Always. You said it yourself.”

She sniffles. “Are you scared too?”

“Absolutely fucking terrified. But I’m also excited. And also very relieved that it’s you I get to share this with.”

She raises her head. “Me too.” She sits up, blinking her grey, teary eyes at him. “ But I’m also sad. You’re going to be such a hot dad.” Her lip begins to wobble. “And I’m going to have to pry all the women off of you when you drop our baby off at daycare.”

Harry tries very hard not to laugh. It doesn’t seem like the appropriate time. “I will not even give them the time of day.”

“I should get a shirt that says That DILF is Mine!”

“As long as I get a matching one.”

He wipes her tears away, ruining her mascara in the process.

She sniffles some more. “I really wanted to have sex tonight but now I can’t stop crying.” She buries her face in her hands and cries harder. “This is r-really,really bad.”

Harry can’t help laughing then. He clutches her close to his chest and rests his head on hers. “Exactly how I felt yesterday.” He rubs her back as she’d done to him in the car. “It’s been a long day. It’s going to be okay. I know it’s very overwhelming.”

For some time, he lets her cry, thinking of ways to make her feel better. “Hey, I was thinking,” he finally decides, “if it’s a boy, maybe we can name him Axel.”

That gets her to stop crying. She immediately says in an icy voice, “I will divorce you.”

“Well, how about something classic like Bobby.”

She pulls away from him quickly. Her eyes are dark and annoyed, eyelashes still wet. Her nose is red, her cheeks pink. She looks like a vision. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“No?” he says innocently, wracking his brain for another terrible idea. “How about Clover for a girl?”

“You’re messing with me.”

“Delilah?”

She growls, “What is this – the early 2000s? I’m buying that baby name book tomorrow. You’re terrible at this!”

“I will admit I’m not the best at naming things. I named my cousin’s dog Pikachu.”

“You’re lying.”

He wipes her face gently. “Nope.”

“I will be naming this child.”

“I absolutely refuse to give you that right. Are you angry? Now you won’t have sex with me because you’re mad, right?”

Her eyes narrow. “On the contrary. I want to have sex with you even more now.”

Harry laughs and gathers her close, standing up. Her legs immediately wrap around his waist. “So romantic. Well, since you insist.”

She’s still going on about how terrible his name picking skills are when they arrive in their bedroom and Harry gently puts her in the middle of the bed.

He sighs dramatically, unbuttoning his shirt with one hand as he looms over her. “Well, it seems like I’m really, truly wrong. I guess the only thing I must do now is apologize.”

Mia bites down on her lower lip as Harry drops his shirt on the floor and slides his hands up her legs under her dress. She parts her thighs instinctively and tilts her head back against the ceiling. “Yes. You must.”

He hums, pushing her dress up until she grabs it from him, letting it bunch at her waist. He kisses her hip bone, then her thighs. Slowly, taking his time. He gently bites down on the flesh, growing harder at the sound of her gasp. He presses a feather light kiss to the waistband of her underwear before slowly tugging it down.

“Mia,” he says softly, slotting himself between her legs. “My sweet girl. When did you get so wet?”

She glances down at him. “Um, when you were being super hot and angry at your father in the restaurant.”

“Which was well over an hour ago?”

“Well, I wasn’t going to jump you in the car!”

“I wouldn’t have minded pulling over. Or doing this first.” He emphasizes the word when a careful lick against her. Her hands immediately fly out to grab his curls. “You know I never mind. Now.” He holds her thighs open. “Let me apologize properly.”

His fingers dig into her skin as he slids his tongue over her again. He relaxes into the mattress, encouraged by her strained groans and tight hold on his hair. He knows Mia well. He could do this in his sleep. He knows exactly what types of touches she likes, when she likes it rough, or when she prefers to be teased. He could stay here between her legs for hours, days even, submitting to her in whichever way she pleases. His heart thunders in his chest at the promise of forever. He’ll have her like this, exposed, and he’ll be at her mercy. All that she’s done for him, all that she’s tolerated. How much she’s fixed him. If only he could repay her.

“So good,” she whimpers under him, raising his hips against his mouth to create more friction. He focuses his attention on her clit and then slowly presses two fingers into her, listening to her gasp at the penetration. “I love you. Oh I love you. I love you. I love you-”

All the discomfort he’s felt today is suddenly gone. All he’s aware of is Mia. He’s wrapped up in her. He’s all hers. Hasn’t he always been? He closes his eyes and loses himself in the sounds she’s making, her heavy breathing, and the taste of her on his tongue. He’s never had any issue in losing himself in Mia.

It’s just him and her. 

He couldn’t be more happy.

[dark-frosted-heart]

Aphrodisiac Event - Roger Barel (epilogue)

Here I am translating the epilogue 3 months later because it lives rent free in my mind.

Premium end to recap

Awkwardly translated smut ahead. As usual can’t guarantee 100% accuracy on this. I’ve already slapped a community label on this but minors dni

He poured the aphrodisiac into my mouth, wiped his wet lips, and smiled wickedly.

Roger: Tell me what that special feeling is that isn’t a brain dysfunction or sexual desire.

Ba-dump. My body heated up and I lost my sense of awareness.

It was as if I became a beast craving for Roger in front of me.

Kate: Why did you give me drink the aphrodisiac again?

Roger: So that cute and lovely Kate craves for me.

Kate: You…egoist.

Roger: Woah there, you doin alright?

The moment he steadied my body, unsteady in my delirious state, Roger’s scent made me dizzy with excitement.

Roger: Ah, even after gettin’ you off, your nipples are still so perky. C’mere, Kate. There ya go…

He picked me up with ease and plopped me down on the table in the drawing room of the palace.

Roger then threw the night dress hanging around my waist to the floor as if to say that it was in the way and stuck his hand down my underwear.

Roger: Kate, sit up for me. Uh huh, that’s a good girl. Should’ve taken your underwear off sooner. Just look at how soaked it is…

Kate: Please don’t…say stuff like that

Once I was as bare as the day I was born, Roger grabbed my ankles, planted my feet on the table, and spread my legs wide.

Without looking, I could tell what was happening just by the sound of my legs spreading.

Roger: Haha, what a mess. How'd ya endure it when you’re this wet?

Kate: Ah…Don’t stare so much.

Roger: Don’t wanna. Look, you’re getting wetter just from me staring. How naughty.

Roger’s large palm rested above my heart as he gazed down at my arousal flowing between my legs.

Roger: Your heart’s racing. This the special feeling you were talking about?

Kate: No… There’s no special feeling between us yet.

Roger: Hmm, well this is gonna be a problem since that special feeling you’re talkin’ about us love.

With a smile on the mature face, Roger sank his fingers into my wet core.

Kate: Ah…

Roger: You like my fingers there? You’re squeezing me tight.

Kate: Ah, there…

Roger: Alright, I’ll touch you there. Must feel real good having me press there.

With how Roger sought out all the best spots, it was like he knew every inch of my body.

Roger: Hey, Kate. I can't define how I feel about you, but... I don't like the idea that some other guy's touched you here.

(Huh)

The moment his eyes flashed a ferocious color, he worked his fingers in and out without mercy.

Kate: Haaaah

I felt like I was drowning in Roger's intensified scent as he held my head against his solid chest

Kate: Ah, I can't anymore

Roger: You're trembling...Come on, cum for me again. Come on, Kate.

Kate: Aaahhhh

Her body shakes as she cums.

Kate: Ah...I...

Roger: Pfft, hahaha. Cute... I got hard 'cause you're so cute.

Roger removed his belt and took out what was tenting his pants.

(It's huge...)

Roger: Sometimes they worry. But if I slow, it'll fit. Hey...You wanna go all the way? Or—

(Ah...)

The tip of something hot and hard prodded against my dripping wet entrance, and my heart pounded loudly.

(I can go all the way like this with Roger...)

(But)

Kate: We only go all the way...if we love each other.

Roger: I don't believe in love though?

Kate: Then I'll make you believe in it...

Roger stared at me for a moment and then narrowed his eyes.

Roger: Pfft, haha...Alright, bring it.

(Huh, what did I just...)

With a suggestive smirk, Roger tugged my arm.

Roger: Kate, put your hands on the table. Good, and turn your ass toward me.

Kate: Eh...Um, this position.

When he pressed up against me from behind, I felt something hot between my legs.

Kate: Roger, it's touching...

Roger: Yeah. Don't worry, I'm not gonna put it in. But since I got hard, let me take care of it. I know you're aching too.

Kate: Eh, ahhh

He grabbed my waist from behind and I felt him rub back and forth between my legs.

Roger: Ngh, haaa...Kate. Close your legs...a bit.

(This makes it feel like I'm...doing it with Roger)

Kate: Aah, Roger, don't...

Roger: Don't? Really?

Kate: Haaa, ahhh

He pinched my nipples from behind and my arousal overflows from between my legs.

My body rocked back and forth in time with him and I couldn't think of anything else.

Kate: Don't go in...ah...Roger...

Roger: I...won't. It's what I said. Honestly I'm holding back from thrusting inside you. Aren't ya glad I'm an honest guy?

(Honest? Since when—)

I didn't have the energy to talk back.

When he looked over and saw my tears of pleasure and frustration, he licked them away.

Roger: Haha...You really are cute, Kate.

--

When I woke up the next morning, I found myself in my bed in Crown's castle.

(Even after all that, there's not a single hickey...)

Surely Roger's nonchalantly continuing his research right now.

(I wonder if Roger will ever have any special feelings toward me)

(But...is that even possible for him)

I flopped back down on my bed as I thought about it.

[satureja13]

While the others met again to work on their strategy to remove that spell from Ji Ho, Kiyoshi and Jeb went down to the Sanctum. Sai is a in a bit of a rush to leave soon because every day they spend here is expensive as hell. Plan is to keep the costs low so Jack and Kiyoshi thought they'd purify the Sanctum and consecrate the water in the basin, Kiyoshi and Jack had involuntarily desecrated... Jack went with them to clean up. Hopefully this will soothe Ms Coombes anger and she'll give them a reduction. And after a few hours, they are nearly finished. Jeb: "You look tired, Kiyoshi. Let's call it done, hm?" Kiyoshi hugged Jeb, because that's what they obviously do - and Jack tried his best not to be jealous. Why should he even be? Kiyoshi and him are just mates! Kioyoshi: "You look exhausted too. Thank you for helping us." Jeb: "I'll go and check on the others. I have some ideas I want to discuss. Join us later?" Kiyoshi: "Ok. We'll finish this and meet you then." This is going to be a long night.

Kiyoshi gathered his remaining powers. Jack was supposed to mop the floor but he watched him in awe. He forgot about his jealousy. Kiyoshi is not from this world anymore. No matter how much he claims he's nothing special. And Jack gave up on love anyway. He's more than happy Kiyoshi and him managed to just be mates and that they were able to prosper - and leave their painful times behind them. It just feels good to be near him. That's all there is.

Kiyoshi was ready to leave but Jack looked at the door he spotted during their first visit down here. Kiyoshi: "You still want to know what's behind it, do you? Let's take a quick look?"

Jack: "Ms Coombes will kill us, I bet she's already looking in her crystal ball to monitor us." Kiyoshi: "This place beyond the Veil is not that easy to enter, not even trough a crystal ball. She's not here, so she can't see anything. And if, I'll tell her I coaxed you in, hm?" Jack: "As if she'd believe that!" Kiyoshi: "Come on, just a quick look. We are going to leave soon and if we don't look now we're never going to find out otherwise!" Ms Coombes was right, Jack does have a bad influence on Kiyoshi...

The closet behind the door is tiny! Kiyoshi tried to squeeze himself in: "Uh, that's tight inside here!" Jack held him firmly: "Feels like being trapped in a trash compactor! Keep pushing! You're almost there!"

Kiyoshi finally managed to press himself inside and they closed the door ö.Ö' Jack looked around: "What might be in these boxes?"

Kiyoshi was so close to Jack, he felt a solid bulge in Jack's trousers... Kiyoshi: "Um?" Jack: "What? No! That's just the ore I found the other day! Look!" Jack took it out and Kiyoshi closed his hand around it. Kiyoshi: "Oh! I've never seen anything like this before. I wonder what it's called? And what it does?" Jack: "Huh? It's throbbing now, that's new..." And then it got steamy in that little closet ö.ö

Because that ore is called Romantium.

When it was over, Jack stumbled out of the closet. Shocked. He started to hyperventilate and crumbled to the floor. Kiyoshi: "Jack. I'm sorry - I didn't mean to... Please, get up."

Jack started to cry: "Gods - what have I done! Not only did I desecrate the Sanctum - again - I also desecrated you! A diety! I should have listened to Ms Coombes and kept my distance to you!" Kiyoshi: "What? No! I told you I'm nothing special. Please don't say this. You did nothing wrong." Kiyoshi doesn't know what to do. They woohooed! How could he have done this to Jack after all that had happened between them! Jack even fell in a coma because their relationship - he - wrecked him! And now he's even blaming himself for what happened behind that door!

And while he looked helplessly at crying Jack, Kiyoshi noticed something. Kiyoshi: "Eh, Jack, don't you feel something odd about you?" Jack sobbed: "Sure. Always. Gods, Sai will kill me if he finds out! He warned me! I'm so sorry!" Kiyoshi: "No. Not this. Your arm! The last spot is gone!" Jack looked at his arm, bewildered: "What? Oh! It's gone?!" That was all it took to distract Jack from the closet incident. Now he feels it! The pain is gone! Completely! After all these months! Almost a year after he broke up with Kiyoshi, the last painful spot is gone! And not only the spot - also the symptoms of the heat! Jack: "Does - does that mean ... we woohooed ... and now you're - my Alpha again?" Kiyoshi was shocked: "I'm sorry, Jack. I didn't mean to. I should have resisted. But the pull was too strong. That ore... and the atmosphere down here..." Kiyoshi wanted to add '...and you' but that would only make Jack blame himself and cry again.

Jack looked in the mirror behind them. He can't believe he feels so good right now! Maybe it's not that bad? Jack was suffering for almost a year now under that searing pain, and on top of that, the heat made his life even more of a hell after that lightning struck him... right in his chest. Jack: "Kiyoshi. Let's not make things weird between us, hm? You took the pain from me and released me from this heat thing - that also affected Jeb and Vlad. And made Ji Ho and Sai rage. And if you're sure I didn't act ... eh ... kind of blasphemous towards you? We could just say you helped a mate out?" Kiyoshi was almost lost for words by the way Jack's brain jumped from one thought and emotion to the other, but eventually he smiled and said: "Eh, sure. I was glad to help my mate out."

Jack: "Aouwww, look at me! All shiny and new!" Kiyoshi laughed. They will get over this too. Things are different now between them.

Jack looked at his - their - reflection in the mirror again in awe. He likes what he sees. (Their hands are almost touching <3)

... Mirror ... Reflection... Jack's unstoppable brain just jumped to the next idea. Jack: "Kiyoshi. The reflection!" Kiyoshi understood immediately: "Let's find the others!"

- to be continued...

'Closed off from love, I didn't need the pain Once or twice was enough and it was all in vain Time starts to pass, before you know it, you're frozen, ooh But something happened for the very first time with you My heart melts into the ground, found something true And everyone's looking 'round, thinking I'm going crazy, oh

But I don't care what they say I'm in love with you They try to pull me away, but they don't know the truth My heart's crippled by the vein that I keep on closing You cut me open and I

Keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love I keep bleeding, I keep, keep bleeding love Keep bleeding, keep, keep bleeding love You cut me open Oh yeah

Trying hard not to hear, but they talk so loud Their piercing sounds fill my ears, try to fill me with doubt Yet I know that their goal is to keep me from falling, hey, oh But nothing's greater than the rush that comes with your embrace And in this world of loneliness, I see your face Yet everyone around me thinks that I'm going crazy Maybe, maybe'

Leona Lewis - Bleeding Love

Outtakes

Kiyoshi knows it's never a good sign when your partner says 'we need to talk' ö.Ö

From the Beginning 🔱 Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: 'Here comes the Sun' from the beginning ▶️ here Last Chapter: 'Who killed Jack?' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 23-28

[incorrectcreepypastafam]

Creepypasta As DanAndPhilGAMES Quotes After The Revival

Toby: I’ve graduated into fuckland

Jeff: just stop speaking

Toby: okay

Toby: soft launching the gay

Jeff: I’m gonna hard launch you out of that window

Liu: know what I mean?

Jeff: no

Jeff: is it hard for you to speak sometimes

Lyra: did that work

Jeff: not really

Lyra: I tried really hard

Jeff: what is the most emo clothing we got here

Jeff: my brother, WELCOME TO THE BLACK PARADE

Lyra: look at this magnificent bitch

Brian: communities that shit together stay together

Jeff: I will try to be normal

Tim: where’s your mind at

Toby: where’s your mom at

Toby: and now I’m wet in this suit

Lyra: uhhhhhhhhhh

Lyra: you pissed?

Toby: I’m gonna stop breathing

Jeff: thank you, Toby, that’s a good volunteer

Ben: maybe they got struck by lightning

Jeff: where was the lightning bitch

Ben: I’m gonna haunt every generation of your family

Tim: should we take it in turns with the swinging?

Tim: that’s what someone’s mom said last night

Game: it’s been a long day

Liu, to Jeff: me sitting next to you

Brian: I’m grabbing my boobs

Sally: is it an alien or Squidward? What are we being chased by?

Sally: it’s hard for me to tell

Liu: THATS THE SHADOW OF THE ROSE ITS NOT A DEMON

Jeff: if that baby comes out I’m gonna kill you

Toby: I’d like that

Toby: you know what they say about big feet

Lyra: what

Toby: big socks

Lyra: okay

Jeff: half an hour montage of Tobias Rogers attempting to learn how to put on a cape

Toby: can you help

Jeff: no

Toby: and then I just saw some lightning happening in the microwave and thought “what a beautiful night for a thunderstorm”

Sally: I don’t do drugs I don’t know what grams are

Lyra: im hot I don’t know how to count

Jeff: maybe I am heaven

Sally, pointing at plastic spiders: that’s Ben. That’s Ben 2. That’s Ben 3

Liu: I’m gonna give us a solid 7/10 on that one

Jeff: just a seven? Are you fucking kidding me

Liu: I was being humble

Jeff: fuck humble

Jeff: do you ever reflect on our lives and just think… stop

Liu: yeah all the time

Tim: I wanna fuck the Eiffel tower

Jeff: dead people in France

Liu: STOP IT

Ben: im gonna hit you with a meteor

Sally: im gonna microwave you

Toby: can I just show you something

Jeff: is it a dead person in France

Jeff: im in my cougar era. Watch out twinks, Jeff is on the prowl

Lyra: I wanna do things to this house

Liu, through his teeth: what do you want to do to the house, Lyra?

Liu, through his teeth: respect the house, Lyra

Jeff: what happens when you tap the emo dragon

Liu: you want me to tap it?

Jeff: yeah

Liu: *taps dragon*

*g note plays*

Jeff: that’s damn right

Ben: I do not think playing this game is how Christ would want us to start his season but here we are

Jeff: but Santa would and so would his brother, Satan

Ben: okay

Jeff: I don’t own any sex toys that go chomp chomp

Jeff: but nice to know that you do

Jeff: I’d say Jesus Christ but I know he’s not listening right now

Toby: five strokes and you’re done

Jeff: that’s what they call me. Five strokes Jeffy

Jeff: who’s they? What am I saying?

*trying to figure out what lmb stands for*

Jeff: lobotomy maybe bestie

Toby: look mate… BITCH

Jeff: it’s making you more intelligent that’s why you’re winning at golf

Jeff: we finally found a way to fix you

Sally: you’re banned from friendship

Ben: this is a safe space

*literally five minutes later*

Ben: point at the guy who doesn’t know how to crouch

Lyra: I would like you all to tell me how I can be better at this game

Ben: um don’t walk down hole

Lyra: okay

*playing Lethal Company*

Jeff: Ben’s not here let’s have a party

Ben: please get back on the ship or I’ll be leaving without you

Jeff: we thought we found a wheel. It was a mine

Jeff: they’re both fucking dead as fuck

Ben, laughing: good job

Jeff: Tim, you’re a top bunk kinda guy right?

Tim: that’s not what Tumblr says

Jeff: is that brown Grimace

Jeff: what the fuck am I looking at

Toby: I’ve never watched an episode of My Little Pony

Jeff: no because you’re normal

Game: who invented the lightning rod

Sally: me

Lyra: what’s the opposite of tears

Jeff:

Jeff: piss

Jeff: and the moral of the story is

Jeff: fuck books

Jeff: get paper cuts

Liu: no

Jeff: what

Liu: stop

Jeff: oh I missed this completely

Liu: is there some kind of grimy wall from your childhood we need to talk about

Jeff: it’s you bitch

Lyra: I put up flyers for car washing. I washed someone’s car and then they said I scratched it with my rings. Why was an eight year old wearing rings?

Jeff: did they try to scam an eight year old?

Lyra: YES

Jeff: you should’ve killed them

Brian: I would give birth to a child on this

Tim: yes

Brian: I would eat the child straight off it

Tim: no

Liu: let’s just grab an apple and try our best

Toby: hey Siri what’s 25+6

Ben:

Ben: girl-

Ben: 31

Toby: 29

*playing Poppy Playtime*

Jeff, to a toy oven: come with me, Owen

Liu: Owen needs to stay where he is

Jeff: I will love you, Owen

Jeff: I don’t like to contribute I just like to judge

Liu: but, Jeff, what is a VPN?

Jeff: virtual private gnome

Liu: gnome begins with a g

Jeff: :0

Sally: everything is just too heavy

Sally: even milk like

Sally: why are you heavy

Lyra: honestly liquid needs to calm down

Lyra: you know what we say about

superstitions

Liu: that they’re not real?

Lyra:

Lyra: do you wanna fight

Toby: just like Sonic The Hedgehog we’re going speed dating

Toby: … as he was known to do

Ben: what

Toby: what fictional characters could we see here

Toby: what are you expecting

Lyra: I’m expecting an anime boy

Lyra: I don’t know who else

Toby: Bill Clinton

Lyra: okay

Toby: he’s real

Jeff: I don’t care if Mozart did this when he was five he’s a nerd

Liu, about baboons: they only live up to 30 years in the wild and 45 years in captivity

Jeff: oh my god you’ve only got a couple years left

Ben: life comes at you fast and so does Trombone Champ

Tim: unleash the babussy

Jeff: did you just g note me with a fucking trombone

Jeff: last time I lost my voice. I’m loud as fuck today you’re gonna wish I had

Lyra: they ate

Liu: okay

Jeff: I was 26 doing that on YouTube

Jeff: fuck yeah good for me

Jeff: did you know that we are celebrities

Toby: celebritenis

Jeff: we are vips

Toby: vipenis

Jeff: we are influenc-

Jeff: *vomit noise*

Jeff: what did you just say

Toby: vipenis

Jeff:

Sally: when I did 23andme it said I was 8% lobster and I think we all know why

Brian: I think I looked snatched

Toby: *dies laughing*

Brian: did I use that right

Jeff: look it’s hard being this pretty

Lyra, reading the question: if they were having a party, what would they serve

Jeff: cunt

Jeff: sorry

Toby: I mean anything could’ve slipped onto something

Jeff: what

Toby: I don’t know what I mean

Jeff: oh god

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

@steddieangstyaugust Day 20 - Teary Tuesday: "I didn't know where else to go."

i’m challenging myself to keep all these at either 127 or 1,270 words each, see day one for more of an explanation! this was originally going to be a 127 fic but i was taken over and wrote this while at work, idk what the hell came over me. adding a read more for the following CW: discussions and aftermath of child abuse at the hand of a parent.

It’s late on a Friday evening when someone knocks on the trailer door.

“Dammit,” he curses, heaving himself up off and out of the sagging couch cushions. He was comfy too. “Whoever you are, you better have a good excu—”

Eddie studies him. His face is bruised, one eye is already swelling, his knuckles are bleeding.

Steve Harrington stands on his porch, drenched with the fall rain.

“Hi Eddie.”

“What’re you doing here, Harrington.” It’s not a question.

“I don’t–” he takes a shuddering breath, Eddie’s heart fractures. "I didn't know where else to go."

“Steve, we haven’t talked in like, six fuckin’ years.” He’s trying to prolong the inevitable.

“I know..” It’s only a feeble whisper.

Eddie scrubs a hand down his face, “C’mon then, I’ll get you some clothes.”

Steve’s shoulders relax minutely and he follows Eddie inside, “Stay there on the linoleum.” Eddie says, stopping Steve on the small patch of the stuff right inside the door. “I’ll bring ‘em to you.”

“Thanks.. Eds.”

Eddie harrumphs, going to his room and pulling out some sweats and ratty tee that’ve always been a bit too big on him.

He grumbles back out to the living room, a handful of scathing remarks on the tip of his tongue, ready to fortify his defenses.

He looks up at Steve, mouth at the ready, but whatever it was he was going to say dies in his throat.

Steve’s eye is already darker, more inflamed.

The solid stone walls he’d built around his heart the last time it was shattered by the same person that stands before him now, crumble to dust.

“Take off your shoes and socks, let's get you into the shower.” Looks like Wayne’s gonna get the next hot shower in the morning. Stupid tiny water heater.

“T-thanks, Ed-d-d.” Steve shudders, toeing off his sneakers then bending to peel his socks off.

“Don’t mention it,” Eddie means it.

Steve follows him to the Munsons’ avocado green nightmare of a bathroom, “I gotta grab you a towel, so just leave your wet stuff on the floor and I’ll pick it up when I bring one back.”

“‘Kay.”

Eddie closes the door behind him, shuffling to the tiny linen closet and pulls out the first towel he finds.

He goes back to the bathroom and pointedly avoids looking at Steve’s shadowy form behind the curtain.

“Towel’s on the toilet.” he says, and is out the door with Steve’s wet clothes by time the soft “Thank you.” reaches his ears.

He takes Steve’s clothes to the kitchen sink, wringing as much rainwater out of them as he can. His socks too, grabbing them from the front door.

After he’s laid everything out over the radiator, he stuffs Steve’s shoes under one corner, and goes to the kitchen. Sorry Wayne, dry cereal for you. Eddie thinks, heating the last of the gallon for hot chocolate.

He’s pouring it into mugs when Steve shuffles out.

“Couch? There’s a blanket there you can wrap up in.” Steve nods, and Eddie follows, setting a mug on the side table for him and taking the spot against the other arm.

Eddie’s perfectly content to stare at his mug for the rest of the night, but Steve’s wince snags his attention.

He looks up to see a bruised upper arm get folded in under the afghan. The blanket falls from Steve’s shoulders when he reaches for his mug. Eddie spares a hand to pull it back into place. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” A sip of cocoa. “So what’s with the eye? Get in another fight you couldn’t win?” It was meant jokingly, but Steve shifts uncomfortably, avoiding Eddie’s gaze.

“Uh..no– my dad he um…”

“You don’t have to tell–”

“No! No, I want to, better tell you now so you can kick me out too. Sooner than later at least.” He huffs a sardonic laugh.

Oh no.

Eddie knows what those words preface. He said the same ones to Wayne when he was first dropped on his doorstep.

“Steve, no, wait you really don’t—”

“He caught me and Jacob Simmons in bed together..”

All the breath leaves Eddie’s lungs

It comes back to him in horrid laughter. Of fuckin’ course.

“What? What’s— should I grab my stuff? I’m gonna grab–”

“Of fuckin’ course.” Eddie’s cheeks are wet. Steve just came out to him and Eddie’s crying.

“Eddie, are you alright?’

“No! I’m not– I’m… You’re perfectly safe here, Steve, ‘Kay? Wayne is good people.”

“But you’re—”

“I’m going to bed. I don’t want to be here right now.”

“You don’t like it either…”

Eddie cackles again, his collar gets even more damp. “It’s not that, Harrington.”

Steve is queer, he’s sitting here on Eddie’s couch after taking a beating from his own father for it, and Eddie can’t stop thinking about himself. The cruelest fuckin’ irony in the known fuckin universe.

“If it’s not that then.. What’d I do?”

“You broke my heart, Steve!”

Steve’s mouth opens and closes like a fish. “Wh– I– How??” is what he settles on. Eddie’s eyes burn. He manages to hold back this round. It won’t be for long.

“I told you that I liked you like how Tammy Thompson liked you and you said, and I quote: “Ew! That’s disgusting!” and told me I had to go home.

Steve’s eyebrows scrunch together then up above the bridge of his nose.

“It was your birthday party, remember?”

“Yes.” it’s a meek whisper.

“Wayne was at work because he knew I’d be at your house. He took an extra shift. Your mom ushered me out at your whim and I walked my ass home through the woods. In the dark, I might add, since you decided I needed to go even though it was 11 at night.”

Steve’s eyes go wider, It pisses Eddie off more. “I didn’t have a key yet so I couldn’t get even get inside once I got there, so I slept on the porch until Wayne got home in the morning.”

“Eddie, I—”

“Do you even remember that I was out of school after that?”

Steve stares at him,

“Well? Do you?”

He shakes his head.

“I got pneumonia from sleeping outside. I was sick for days.”

“Ed—”

“And after all that, I still— I still—”

“…You still?”

“I still had the biggest fuckin’ crush on you.” Now it’s Eddie’s voice that’s fallen quiet.

He still does, isn’t that a fuckin’ joke.

“And now here you are, on my couch, and I can’t help but feel…gratification. That you got what you deserved.

“You just came out to me, told me you got a beating for it just like I did, and all I can think is “Good.”. How fucked is that?”

Eddie collapses back against the cushions.

“Your dad?” Steve manages to say after a handful of minutes.

“Yeah.” Eddie croaks. “My dad.”

“How bad?”

Eddie turns his head, makes a show of looking him over, “‘Bout the same. More punches to the gut though, if I had to wager. No bloody knuckles on me though. Was too small.”

“Damn.”

Eddie looks back toward the front door, nods. “Damn.”

The tension slowly dissipates in the next handful of minutes that pass.

“I’m sorry.” He turns toward Steve’s voice, he’s looking down into his mug. “If it’s worth anything now, I really am sorry I did that, Eddie.”

Eddie’s chest loosens. “It’s worth something.” he watches Steve nod. “If it’s worth anything, I’m sorry your dad’s a huge ass. And that my feelings are huge ass.”

Steve snorts a laugh, he seems surprised by it, “It’s worth something.”

anyone else ever feel like eddie does? feeling like shit about having feelings that threaten to overtake the feelings and problems someone you care about is going through?? just me?? okay, great.. 🙃

see the collection on ao3!

[chericherixo]

Could you do like a fluff fic about Mattheo bugging y/n during class? But like he's just being silly goofy and eventually y/n humours him once they're given time to work. Thank you!!

Ofc!! I love that thank you :) I kind of got carried away so I'll probably write a sequel, and I'm sorry if Mattheo isn't as edgy as he usually is but hope you like it!

Danish [fluff]

- Classmates/Acquaintances - Reader's house not mentioned --Read the Request Above!--

It was your first class of the day, and you were already feeling your lack of sleep from the night before. You trudged to your seat and set your books down on the corner of the table. The only good thing that you could see was Mattheo's absence.

You felt relived as you bent over to grab a pencil from your bag. When you sat back up though, Mattheo was sitting annoyingly close, with a stupid smirk on his face.

"Dammit! When did you get here?" You yelped, startled.

"I just sat down, were you worried about me?"

"Never." You said disgusted and turned your attention to the front of the room as the professor walked in. He started talking about transfigurations, but try as you might to focus, you couldn't help but notice Mattheo's shameless stare towards you.

You snapped your head to look at him, "Can you stop fucking staring at me? Is there something wrong?" You whispered harshly,

"Sorry." He said but didn't turn his gaze away. You scoffed and shifted in your seat uncomfortably. After a few moments, he whispered in your ear.

"What'd you have for breakfast? Because I tried those new danishes and they were- amazing." He practically moaned in your ear.

"Oh my god Mattheo- why did you do that?"

"What? They were really good." He sat back in his chair with a hurt expression on his face. You rolled your eyes as he made another comment, "So? What did you have for breakfast?"

"Um- nothing. I kind of lost track of time before class, I'll get something later." He was silent for a moment.

"I have danish left; it's all wrapped nicely and everything. Do you want it?"

"Knowing you, you probably put a love potion in it, with how much you seem to want my attention."

He scoffed, "I'm offering you the last of my stash of the most delicious pastry I've ever had the pleasure of tasting, and you still treat me like this?" He covered his mouth with his hand and pretended to cry.

"Would you shut up- we'll get in tr-"

"Miss l/n! Care to explain why you're disrupting my teaching so- loudly?"

"I'm sorry professor, it won't happen again." Your face flushed with embarrassment as Mattheo snickered to the right of you.

For the rest of the lesson, you stared directly at the front and ignored any attempt of Mattheo to distract you. After awhile, the professor gave the class time to work.

He stared down at the desk, "I don't know why I'm in this class, I mean- you're way smarter than me. I guess because my dad expects me to be the top of my class. As soon as he finds out my grade is slipping- he'll probably pull me out." Your face turned concerned at his sudden confession. "I'm sorry for getting you in trouble, it's not your fault I can't focus."

"Thanks.. it's okay. Maybe I'll try a danish tomorrow, if they're as good as you say."

"They are!" As Mattheo was about to say something, the teacher passed back the tests you had taken the week before. Yours landed on the table showing a solid A+, whereas Mattheo's was covered in red ink and marked with a D-. He cringed at the sight of his grade.

"I mean- you didn't fail?" He scoffed,

"Anything below an A is failing for my father." Then, his eyes widened, "What if tutored me?" He said suddenly,

"Would you even listen?" You said, yet not totally shutting down the idea.

"Yes, yes I would. Especially if it's you- I don't know why, but I can actually focus on what you're saying. So, please?"

"..Ok. But if your grade doesn't improve, I don't want to waste my time."

"I'll pay you- I know you're busy."

"I- ok." You agreed to Mattheo's proposal. 'Why am I agreeing to this? Maybe it's because, whether I'd like to admit it or not, he's stupidly charming.' You thought.

The bell rang and Mattheo gathered his things, "I'll see tomorrow?"

"Yea, sounds good." You smiled softly, "Library?"

"Mhm." I waved and walked out of the classroom, leaving you with a blush and a smile that you couldn't wipe of your face.

(pt 2??)