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summary: it’s been one year since the marauders’ main guitarist officially left the band, remaining hidden from the public eye ever since. when she finally comes back, it’s not in the way everyone expected. now signed under a new label, she announces her debut solo album— surprising most fans, who didn’t even know she could sing. everything is chaos. the internet is trying to figure out what really happened behind the scenes: what caused the split? and, most importantly, what the hell happened between her and sirius black?
pairing: popgirlie!reader x ex-bandmate!siriusblack
moodboards
albums: starbound | the four stages of grief |
accounts: the marauders | yn and the girls | bonuses
flirty!friend remus x reader
a/n: very slightly inspired by this fic by @star--stilinski (i adore their writing style & how they characterize my dear n lovely stiles) i thought i'd bring the vibe over to another one of my comfort characters! enjoy, my muses.
more of this.
just thinking about being flirty friends with remus lupin.
imagine it - during hangouts with the marauders, he’d pull you onto his lap and rub at your thighs while discussing pranks with james and sirius. peter would eye you both suspiciously, but the other two boys would barely bat an eye. sirius and james have both seen way worse, and you (quite frankly) did not want to ask.
picture remus’s hands and their inability to separate from you. whether it be his palm pressed against your lower back or his pinky prodding at yours with an unspoken hold me?, he would rather find himself faced with the dark lord’s wand than lose your soft fingers wrapped around his.
visualize remus and his annoyingly attractive habit of casual praise. you come running into the common room, showing him your charms homework? you’ll be met with a “good girl. told you you could do it!” and a quick kiss on the forehead before he wraps his hand around your waist to pull you down onto his knee, nose still stuck in his novel that he just checked out from the restricted section.
suppose that you and remus are prefects together in your seventh year. you’re both pretty widely known for being brilliant, so it was no surprise when you both got picked for the prefect position. when you were both assigned the evening patrol around the castle, remus had the nasty habit of pushing you behind the tapestries and kissing you silly. he liked to say that “you have to act like the enemy to know the enemy, darling” while his lean fingers explored places on your body that have absolutely no business being explored by your friend.
and (obviously) you and remus would get so many allegations. lily and marlene never let up on their incessant teasing of the both of you (and it didn’t help that james used you and remus as a talking point to flirt with lily.) it got to a point where you started to distance yourself from the marauders as a whole for a few weeks to get your teasing friends of of your back. to be fair, they were a pretty lonely few weeks before sirius showed up at your door and made your promise to never do that again because he’d never seen remus this distraught in all of his years at hogwarts.
just thinking about being more than flirty & lovestruck friends with remus lupin.
summary: being a vampire was never really your choice, if anything you’d give everything to be human again. so why is this curly haired boy chasing after you, asking you to turn him into one?
masterlist series masterlist
Fuck.
You stand below the flickering lights, leaning on the sterilized white walls of the hospital where Andromeda called you, already having heard of what happened from your brothers. Regulus on the other hand couldn’t stand still and was pacing back and forth in front of you, you didn’t know where Sirius was, but you honestly could use some of his jokes right about now.
“How could you let that happen?!” He whisper-shouted, finally stopping in front of you, his body language expressing his intense anger at you.
“So I should’ve let him get hurt, is that what you’re saying?” You cross your arms, the thought of it alone set a pit in your stomach. You weren’t one to get attached quick, especially not with so little interactions.
But you couldn’t deny that you were drawn to the guy.
That moment in the cafeteria was the starting point of your curiosity. It was the first time you’ve had trouble with reading someone’s mind. Thoughts have been shoved into your head for decades and here comes a guy who gave you none at all to read.
If that wasn’t odd enough, he apparently was also your singer. The moment he crashed into you in that hallway, his neck found its way to you as if forcing you to smell him, getting a good whiff of his blood. And smell you did, it took everything in you to not bite him in that moment. You lost all sense of self, physically having to withdraw from him and from classes for a week or so. You had to lock yourself in your room, yet all you could think about was how good he smelt.
“This isn’t just about you! You do realize this jeopardizes all of us, don’t you?” The way he was looking at you with such disappointment honestly hurt, especially with all that you went through together. It wasn’t as if you didn’t care about keeping the coven safe, you would do anything and everything to keep them safe. All this trouble for a guy you don’t even properly know made you think that maybe you should have just let it happen.
You didn’t have time to fully process that thought when you smelt the same sweet sweet scent.
Your head immediately turned to where he was, Regulus stopping his lecture to follow your gaze. While your eyes held intrigue and curiosity, the same could not be said about Regulus. You swore that if looks could kill, this guy would have been 6ft under. His gaze shifted between the two of you before finally settling on your form.
“Hi, uhm could I talk to you?” There was a hint of nervousness underlying in his tone, yet somehow still held a determined air around him. Regulus moved to answer him, his gaze unrelenting, no doubt about to send him venomous words asking to leave you both alone. He however was interrupted before he could let a syllable out by none other than Sirius, who has now decided to make his presence known.
“Reggie! Cmon Andromeda wants to speak with us.” He hooks his arm around his brother, dragging him to the opposite direction. You send him a thankful look while he shoots both of you a look and continuing to whisper with Regulus about the situation. He sends a final wave before they disappear behind a corner, going to meet up with Andromeda. You turn back to him, shooting him an almost apologetic smile.
“So uh…” It was then you realize, you didn’t know his name. Which was honestly vexing considering all that has transpired with him.
“James! My name is James.” His hand shoots up, offering it for you to shake.
“Right… James.” You end up shaking his hand and immediately dropping it after giving him your name. His face noticeably lights up upon hearing his name come out of your mouth while also repeating yours, undoubtedly pleased, but you couldn’t be sure seeing as you couldn’t read his actual thoughts.
“About the incident—“ he starts, but you immediately cut him off. Time to put your gaslighting skills to use.
“What about it?” You try playing it off, opting to look out the window.
“I wanted to thank you for saving me, but I am curious. You were on the other side of the parking lot, how’d you get to me insanely fast?” He tried pressing.
“I was nearby, what do you mean?”
“You were literally a whole 10 cars away!”
“No I wasn’t.”
“What about the dent then?!”
“Your head must’ve taken some damage, there wasn’t any.”
“How about your eyes?!”
“What about them?”
“They were black the other day, now they’re golden brown!”
“Must be a trick of the light.” you shrugged.
James swore he was seconds away from smashing his own head on the wall.
“Look, I know what I saw!” James was desperately trying to prove himself sane. Which he was, but you weren’t going to admit that.
“Can’t you just let this go?” You honestly were getting frustrated at how persistent he was.
“I just need to know, I want to know you.” You finally bring yourself to look up at him, seeing the desperation in his expression almost made you want to give in. almost.
“I doubt that James.” Giving him one last look before disappearing into the same corner that your brothers went to.
────────────
The message you were trying to send seemed to be taken the wrong way. James didn’t leave you alone, instead it fueled him even more to keep talking to you as if taking the last thing you said a challenge. And somehow and someway, Sirius found this the most amusing thing in the world.
“Oh cmon, why don’t you give little Prongsie here a chance?” Sirius smirked, ruffling James’ curly hair, while James himself looks like a deer caught in headlights at the notion.
How fitting.
You sigh, closing your locker and looking at James then Sirius. Sirius tilts his head and gives you a grin, his thoughts clear as day even amongst the heavy crowd in the hall.
I know you want to.
“Fine, meet me after class. We’ll talk then.” You walk away from the both of them and towards your next class, sparing them not another glance.
Sirius shifts his attention towards James, still having an arm hooked around him which James concluded was something Sirius seemed to do often.
summary: being a vampire was never really your choice, if anything you’d give everything to be human again. so why is this curly haired boy chasing after you, asking you to turn him into one?
masterlist series masterlist
Being alive for over a hundred years, you never ever expected that something like this would happen.
It was supposed to be just another day of blending in with humans in high school, for how many years you’ve been in high school however has slipped your mind. Walking down the crowded hallways of forks high, you meet up with your supposed brother.
“Took you long enough.” Sirius groaned, slinging an arm over your shoulder.
“If you’re that impatient, why didn’t you go join Regulus in the cafeteria?” Rolling your eyes as you both made your way to the said location.
“I’d rather not be alone with him, he’s still not over the fact that I drank up all the good stuff.”
You let out a sigh and entered the cafeteria, scanning all over until you see Regulus sitting at a table near the windows. Both you and Sirius walk (or strut) towards him, you find your place next to Regulus and Sirius on your other side.
“Reggie.”
“Ugh don’t call me that.” Regulus sneered at him, he was only met with a smirk from the assailant. Food trays were already in front of all of you, curtesy of Regulus. Not that you needed it to survive, but it’s there anyway to erase any suspicion around the three of you.
The two surrounding you keep arguing while you look around and tune them out, or at least try to. Being a vampire comes with its pros and cons, this includes special abilities unique to each one if you’re lucky. Unfortunately for you, you managed to get mind reader.
I want to go home.
I’d let Sirius Black tap this…
How do I tell my best friend that her breath stank without telling her breath stank??
You play around with an apple trying to not listen to the thoughts when you catch a pair of hazel eyes peeking at you from a few tables over. Sitting with Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, a curly haired guy with round glasses, one you don’t recognize. He quickly looks away as soon as you meet his eyes.
Weirdo.
Then you realize, you can’t hear his thoughts.
────────────
It was the end of the day when you run across him again. Or rather bumped into him.
“Ah—“ James stumbles down from the sheer force of the collision, which was weird because he was sure there wasn’t a wall in the middle of the hall.
Oh my god, it’s like those wattpad stories…
He rubs the back of his head before seeing a hand in front of him. Looking up he sees you, the one who Remus and Peter were talking about in the cafeteria. The one he was caught staring at.
“Sorry about that.”
It was at this moment that James fell in love at first sight. Taking in your beautiful features much closer now that you were in front of him, not to mention how hot you look in that leather jacket. And then he realized he was still staring. Again.
Honestly the cafeteria did you no justice.
“Oh! Uh it’s fine… I wasn’t looking where I was going.” James sheepishly says while accepting your hand. You then pulled him up with little to no effort, causing him into stumble into you. His hands and arms clumsily engulfing you into a somewhat hug.
You immediately push him away, covering your nose and mouth. He sees your free hand grip your elbow covering the lower half of your face as if repulsed by the mere thought of him. You don’t spare him another glance and immediately rush away.
James stares at the spot where you were just a few seconds ago and sniffs himself.
I’m not that smelly… am I?
────────────
James doesn’t see you for the next few days after that incident. He slumps down on the cafeteria table, his friends Remus and Peter already being there. Said friends look at each other, already knowing what the guy in front of them was down for.
“No sign of her again today?” Remus asks while sliding over a tray of fries and pizza over to him.
A muffled “no” comes out from James’ slumped form, his face buried in his arms. He was distraught from what happened, having told his friends about what happened a few days back, when the girl of his so-called dreams pushed him away out of disgust.
“I’m sure it wasn’t because you smelt bad, maybe she just got sick or something?” Peter tried to console him, which helped to a fault.
He began thinking about the conversation he had with the two a few days ago, specifically about the you and your brothers.
He was enamored the moment you stepped into the cafeteria, it was like your brooding energy was calling out to him. His eyes followed you up until you sat down with your brothers, Peter saw him following you with his gaze and said “good luck with that mate.”
This caused James to be even more intrigued, which to his luck, Remus responded with answers to his questions about them.
“Well they’re not the most welcoming bunch, mostly sticking to their little bubble. Plus their cousin Andromeda— Dr. Andromeda, often pulls them out of school on sunny days to go camping.” Remus shrugged scooping up some mashed potatoes to his mouth.
“Not to mention that you’d have to get through Sirius and Regulus to get to her and they’re intimidating in their own right.” Peter added, his voice laced with an undertone of nervousness. James could only wonder if Peter had an unpleasant encounter with one of them.
James sighed and began eating his lunch.
That is until he felt something from behind his head.
He turns and sees Sirius and Regulus burning holes through his head. The former smirking when he caught his eye, giving him a small wave. Did your brothers somehow know? The thought alone sent shivers up his spine.
Remus catches the interaction and lifts a brow, Sirius seeing this shoots him a wink. Regulus whispers something to his brother before the two of them get up from their table and exit the cafeteria.
“What was that?”
────────────
Exiting the school, James is surprised to see you there. He didn’t see you with your brothers today at the cafeteria so he concluded it must’ve been another day of absence from you.
So seeing you leaning on the car you usually bring with your brothers was a shock. Sirius and Regulus immediately meet up with you, casually chatting away. You must’ve felt his staring because you look up and make eye contact with him. James feels his ears go warm at this and tries to give you a tiny wave, feeling giddy.
You noticed him!
James then walked down to the parking lot to get to his bright red truck, looking back from time to time just to see you still holding eye contact. He hoped you’ve forgotten the thing that’d happened the last time he saw you. He sets down his backpack on the hood, he still had his earphones on, listening to Queen.
Unfortunately for him this meant he didn’t hear the sounds of a van skidding and coming straight at him.
It was too late when he noticed, unable to do anything other than to let out a gasp and closing his eyes, bracing himself for impact.
The impact, however, didn’t come.
Instead he felt the cold embrace of something— someone. He opened his eyes quick enough to see you, an arm around him and an arm stopping the van, leaving a large dent in its side.
You turn to look at him, as if scanning his physical state. James lets out a bated breath, you both make eye contact, this time with shock written all over his face, yours however, he couldn’t read. All he could see though was how beautiful you are, he could not take his eyes off of you. He was such a loser for you.
After making sure he’s ok, you immediately jump over his truck, looking back at him one last time before disappearing.
James is then flooded with a million thoughts and emotions, to then also being swarmed by people asking if he’s ok.
Sirius and Regulus immediately spring into action, hopping into their car and pulling out of the parking lot. But not without looking back at James, catching his eye on the way out.
James feels his heart racing, hearing his heart pump faster in his ears. He doesn’t know if it’s because of the adrenaline or being that close to you.
But there is one thought that lingers in his mind,
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brother' best friend!James Potter x Female Reader.
warnings: smut (+18. MDNI). fingering.
words: 2.5k
The late afternoon sun filtered through your bedroom curtains as you lost yourself in the pages of your novel. You were perfectly content, wrapped in the quiet of the house, until the sudden creak of your door shattered the peace.
The messy, dark hair and the confident grin were practically signature traits at this point. James Potter leaned casually against your doorframe, looking entirely restless.
"I'm bored," he announced, his voice dropping into that dramatic whine that he usually reserved for when he wanted your brother, Peter, to abandon his studies for a game.
Your heart gave an involuntary skip, it always did whenever he was around.
You slowly lowered your book, marking your page with a trembling finger. "And let me guess," you said, trying to keep your voice calm, "you've already harassed Peter into hiding, so you decided to descend upon me?"
James pushed off the doorframe, wandering into your room as if he owned the place, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. He flopped onto the edge of your bed, causing the mattress to dip and bring him just a little too close for your comfort.
"Peter's a lost cause," James said, waving a hand dismissively. He tilted his head, watching you with an intensity that made you wonder if he could hear your heart hammering against your ribs. "I figured you might be doing something more interesting. Turns out, I was wrong. But," he added, a soft, teasing smile playing on his lips, "I suppose I could be convinced to stay if you’re willing to entertain me."
You looked back at him, the book feeling suddenly heavy in your hands. You knew you should probably kick him out or tell him to go find his own fun, but the truth was, you didn’t want to do anything.
"What did you have in mind?" you asked softly, unable to hold back a small, reluctant smile of your own.
"I don't have a single idea," he murmured, his voice dropping to a velvet rasp. As he spoke, his hand came to rest on your thigh. "Give me some options, baby."
His touch was so easy, yet it felt heavy with tension that hadn’t been there a moment ago. He didn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he was perfectly aware, how his thumb brushed your skin.
The air in the room felt like it had thickened. You swallowed hard, forcing your gaze away from his lips to focus on the wall, desperate to regain some shred of composure.
"Options?" you managed to repeat, your voice sounding a little more breathless than you intended. You tried to shift your leg, but his touch lingered, grounding you to the mattress. "Well, if you're going to act like you're dying of boredom, we could try the attic. I'm pretty sure Peter left his old collection of records up there, and I haven't listened to them in years."
James tilted his head, his curls falling into his eyes as he smirked. He didn't pull away; instead, his fingers traced a slow, distracting line up the hem of your shorts. "Records? That's your big plan for saving me, sweetheart?"
"It's better than sitting here and listening to you complain," you retorted and looked back at him, emboldened by the way his eyes darkened.
"Or," he countered, his voice dropping into a murmur, "we could just stay right here. Forget the records, forget Peter, and let you finish that book while I... occupy myself."
His hand remained steady on your skin, his thumb tracing small, lazy circles that made it nearly impossible to focus.
"You're a menace," you whispered, the book slipping from your lap onto the floor.
"Silly you," he murmured, his voice dropping into a playful, teasing lilt. He reached down, his arm stretching across your lap, and retrieved the novel. His fingers brushed against your knee as he sat back up, the friction sending another wave of heat through you. "You can't read without your book, can you?"
He didn't hand it back immediately. Instead, he studied the cover for a fleeting second before shifting his weight, sliding effortlessly until he was lying right next to you on the bed. The mattress dipped under his frame, bringing him so close that you could feel the warmth radiating off him. He propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at you with a lopsided, expectant grin, before finally placing the book back into your hands.
"And I need you to read to me," he said, his tone shifting from teasing to something softer. "You can do that, right?"
The request was so simple. His fingers, which had been trailing along your leg, now rested on the edge of the mattress, right beside your hip.
You felt a flush creep up your neck, but you didn't look away. You opened the book to the page you had marked, the words blurring slightly.
"You're actually going to make me read aloud?"
"I am," he confirmed. "I'm all ears, and I'm not going anywhere."
You realized then that he wasn't interested in the story at all, he was interested in the way your voice would sound, the way you would stumble over the words because you were too aware of him lying right there, listening.
"Fine," you breathed, forcing your eyes to focus on the text. "But if you interrupt, I'm kicking you out."
James let out a laugh that vibrated against your shoulder. "Deal. Start reading."
You cleared your throat, the sound unusually loud in the quiet of the bedroom. As you began to read, your voice started out a little breathy and hesitant. You focused intensely on the ink on the page, trying to keep your tone steady.
As you moved into the second paragraph, James shifted; his eyes were hooded, tracing the movement of your lips as you spoke.
You were halfway through a sentence when his hand, the one that had been resting near your hip, moved. His palm pressed against your inner thigh, the heat of his touch searing through your skin, before his fingers slid upward, purposefully finding the sensitive space between your thighs.
Your voice hitched, a sharp intake of breath snagging the words right in your throat. You stopped reading, the book trembling slightly in your grip.
James didn't pull back, neither did you, his fingers pressing firmly against you. He simply watched you, his thumb tracing a slow circle that made your head spin.
"You stopped," he murmured, his voice sent shivers down your spine. He leaned in closer, his lips hovering just inches from your shoulder, breath warm against your neck. "Keep reading, sweetheart. I'm still listening."
You forced yourself to look back down at the page, though the lines of text blurred before your eyes. Your pulse was a frantic thrum in your ears. You opened your mouth, forcing a syllable out, but it came out as a shaky breath.
James was relentless. He knew exactly what he was doing, his fingers bunching the fabric and rubbing against your clit with a slow, deliberate pressure that made your entire body arch toward him.
"The… the king… he decided to…" you stammered, your voice cracking.
James let out a satisfied hum, his hand grinding against your pussy, the friction sending a jolt of pure, electric need straight to your core. You were already wet, the evidence soaking into the denim, and he seemed to relish the realization, his touch becoming more insistent.
"You're doing so well," he whispered against the shell of your ear. He pushed his fingers harder, dragging them up and down, making sure you felt the full weight of his hand.
You gasped, the book dropping on your stomach as your knees instinctively parted further for him. The heat between your thighs becomes an ache that only he could soothe.
"James," you whimpered, your head falling back against your pillows.
"Keep going," he commanded softly. He was teasing you, punishing you, pushing you to the brink while forcing you to maintain your composure. "Tell me what happens next, baby."
The abrupt withdrawal of his touch left you feeling suddenly cold and desperate. You opened your mouth to protest, to beg him not to stop, but the words died in your throat as you heard the zip of your shorts.
James didn't pull the denim down, he simply parted the fabric, his fingers diving beneath the waistband of your shorts and slipping beneath the lace edge of your panties.
His skin was warm and rough against your own. His long fingers sliding directly against your damp, swollen pussy. He found your clit almost instantly, his touch far more intimate. He began to stroke you, his middle finger sliding inside your heat.
"Much better," he rasped, his voice dropping as he felt just how wet you were. He began to work you, his movements deep and deliberate, his thumb rubbing circles against your clit, your hips hitching upward of their own accord.
You were panting now, the book long forgotten. Your head tossed back, your hair tangling against the pillows as his touch sent waves of pleasure.
The sensation of his fingers sliding rhythmically in and out was driving you to the brink of losing all control. Your breath came in hitching gasps, and you felt the tension coiling deep in your stomach, tightening with every stroke. You were so close to the edge that the room seemed to blur, your body arching off the mattress, begging for the release.
A broken, needy whimper rose in your throat, louder and more desperate than you intended. You were just about to abandon all restraint, ready to let a full-throated moan fill the room, when James abruptly pulled his hand away.
You gasped, your eyes snapping open, your vision unfocused and heavy with desire.
James was watching you, his own breathing ragged and his eyes clouded with suppressed hunger. He quickly pressed a firm hand over your mouth. His gaze darted toward the door.
"Shh," he hissed, his voice rough and strained, pressing his chest close to yours so you could feel the frantic thud of his heart against your ribs. "Not so loud, baby. Peter's right down the hall."
You could hear the muffled sound of a chair shifting in the room nearby, and your blood ran cold at the reality of how close you had come to being heard. Your heart was still racing, your core throbbing and aching for the touch.
James leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his breath hot and ragged. "You want to scream, don't you?" he whispered, a smirk ghosting across his lips. "Keep it quiet for me."
Without breaking his gaze, he shifted his weight, climbing over you until his knee was planted firmly on the mattress between your thighs, pinning you in place.
As you looked up at him, trapped beneath his frame, his fingers splayed against your jaw to ensure you stayed silent.
With his other hand, he reached down again. He didn't tease this time; he pressed two fingers deep into your folds. The feeling of him buried inside you combined with the pressure of his knee pinning your legs apart, was overwhelming.
You let out a muffled, frantic sound against his palm, your body arching instinctively to meet his hand. He began to move his fingers, grinding against your clit and sliding deep. Every time he pushed in, you felt a wave of pleasure so sharp it made your toes curl.
James watched you intently, his eyes tracing the way your eyes fluttered shut and the way you bucked against his hand, fighting the urge to cry out. He loved the control, the way he could dictate the exact level of your pleasure. He hummed low in his throat, his thumb rubbing aggressively over your swollen cunt, bringing you closer. You were completely at his mercy, dripping for him, trembling in his hold.
The friction was maddening, a delicious torture that left you feeling completely unraveled. He could feel you clenching around him, the muscles of your pussy spasming as you neared to come. Your hips bucked uncontrollably, his eyes never leaving yours.
"That's it, sweetheart," he murmured against your temple. "Come for me."
He pressed his thumb down hard against your clit, circling and flicking until your vision went white. You felt the orgasm coiling in your lower belly. You tried to let out the scream that was clawing at the back of your throat, but his hand simply pressed harder, muffling your voice.
He sped up, his fingers sliding in and out, grinding against your G-spot while his thumb teased you. You were dripping, and when the wave finally crashed over you, it was all you could do to keep from shaking the entire bed. You bowed your back, your body shivering violently, your fingers digging into his forearms as you climaxed, your silent screams pouring into his palm.
James didn't stop the moment you came; he kept moving, drawing the sensation out, pushing you through wave after wave of aftershocks. Only when your body finally went limp, exhausted and flushed, he ease up, though he didn't pull away. He just watched you, his own breathing heavy, a triumphant smirk curling his lips as he saw exactly what he had done to you.
Your chest was still heaving, your skin flushed and slick with a fine sheen of sweat. The world was still spinning in the aftermath.
He pulled his hands away and slid down from his position over you, settling onto his side right next to you again and looked at you with a casual gaze, as if he hadn't just completely shattered you.
He reached down to the book in your lap, he hooked his index finger through the spine of your book, retrieving it.
"I think you can keep reading now," he said, his voice smooth carrying a hint of a challenge. He rested his head on his hand again, looking at you with that same attention, his knee resting against your thigh.
You looked at the book in his hand, your heart still struggling to find its normal rhythm, and then up at his smug, handsome face. You felt a blush stain your cheeks, the realization hitting you that he was entirely aware of just how incapable you were of focusing on anything other than him right now.
"You are..." you started, your voice coming out as a shaky, breathless whisper. You reached out to take the book, your fingers trembling as they brushed his. "You're absolutely impossible, James Potter."
He let out a short chuckle and leaned in, his eyes dropping to your lips before locking back onto yours.
"Maybe," he agreed, his thumb tracing a slow, teasing line over your knuckles as you took the book. "But you're not going to stop reading, are you? I'm still waiting to see how the chapter ends."
Blaise couldn’t stop staring, Ana had entered her second trimester, and was finally back in the kitchen. She was in her element almost floating around. Ana was feeling better recently, her sickness fading more day by day.
They had fallen into a new routine this past month. They wake up together, make breakfast together, and at the end of the day get ready for bed side by side. Blaise had never seen Ana the way he sees her now, in the literal sense. Figuratively… he has always seen her as the most beautiful woman in the world, since fourth year, his eyes were always glued to her.
Fifteen year old Blaise knew that he could never have Anari the way he wanted and he accepted that. He accepted that her anger and her annoyance was all he’d receive, but he was grateful for anything he got. She had still irritated him every day but he couldn’t deny she took his breath away. Blaise at nineteen though, It was torture to have her so close yet so far. Now it was even more impossible to accept his thoughts towards her. He’d ruin everything they’ve done, how far they’d gotten. They were becoming friends and him trying to push past that would be the downfall of them.
They were bringing a child into the world, they were together until death, it was too much to risk. Blaise never thought he’d be anymore than an annoyance in her life— and he still might be but he was her friend, her husband. If that’s all he could be, he was fine with that.
Ana was in a large sweater but he could still see her visible bump in her stomach, holding a hand to her belly every time she read a recipe or was deep in thought. Blaise was sitting on the counter watching her in awe, she was moving like she could do it with her eyes closed.
Every couple of moments she was muttering something under her breath to herself. He noticed that when she was deep in thought her eye brows would scrunch up and her tongue would poke out from between her lips every so often.
Blaise liked these peaceful moments, times where he could just observe her— appreciate her quiet presence.
“Stop looking at me.” She spoke up suddenly, not even turning around to look at him.
“How do you know I was looking at you?” He crossed his arms defensively, “Is that another inherited trait? The eyes in the back of your head.”
“I could feel your thoughts reaming into the back of my skull.” She mumbled, finally turning to him, “What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing really.” He shrugged, “School mostly.”
“School?”
“Yeah, how we were back in school.” He slid off the counter and took a couple of steps towards her.
“You were the bane of my existence, I never really felt hate before I met you and your friends– Draco mostly.” She smirked a little.
“You’ve warmed up to the both of us now.” He returned her smirk and took another step forward.
“Mhm.” She hummed, leaning a hip against the counter, looking up into his eyes. “Draco maybe, but you I still can’t stand.”
Blaise faked offense and his hands flew to her side, tickling her, making her face scrunch up and her body starting to squirm, trying to make attempts to get away from him.
“Okay! I surrender!”
“There’s no surrendering.” His fingers continue trailing over her skin.
“Stop! Wait, stop!” She speaks, suddenly serious, making Blaise pause his movements when her hands lay on her stomach.
“What? What happened?” Blaise takes a step back, pulling his hands back as if he burnt her.
“Oh my god.” She gasped, reaching for Blaise’s hand urgently. She pulls her sweater over her stomach and tugs Blaise closer to lay his hand where hers just occupied on her belly.
A ripple in her skin, like the tide moving in, then a sudden, firm nudge against his palm like a knuckle rapping on a closed door.
The world around them goes quiet as Blaise’s eyes raise to meet Ana’s. The fluttering in her stomach doesn’t last long, only a moment or two before it fades away.
Neither of them speak, just staring into each other's wide eyes and mouths agape. After taking a shaky breath Blaise removes his hand from Ana’s belly and surrounds it around her waist, gently pulling her closer to him, wrapping her in his embrace. His his cheek resting on the top of her head he speaks, “Had that ever–”
“No.” She whispered, her words muted where her head was buried in his chest. “That’s a first.”
Blaise plants a soft kiss on top of her head and she pulls back a little, still in his arms but now face to face. “There’s a thing growing inside of you.”
“Don’t say it like that.” She lets out a soft watery laugh.
“It’s real.” He mumbled to himself.
“Now for you. I’ve been feeling it for months.” She raises a playful eyebrow.
They stand in silence for another moment, face inches apart, and Blaise unwraps an arm and sets his hand on her cheek. He uses his thumb to swipe away a stray tear falling down. Ana slightly leans into his palm and sends him a soft smile which he returns.
It barely happened, if they weren’t so close she wouldn't have realised when his gaze fell from her eyes to her lips. Blaise didn’t mean to but that didn’t matter, she noticed, when his eyes flicked back up to hers he saw her pupil dilate slightly. It was like they were frozen, neither of them looking away first, neither wanting to be the one to break this moment.
It didn’t take long for Blaise to crack first, but when he opened his mouth to speak Ana was already pulling herself out of her arms. She turned from him and swiped at her cheeks, brushing away any other tears.
She turned back to him, several feet away, and spoke softly, “Our fifteen year old selves would be shocked seeing us at nineteen.”
“Me at nineteen, you’re still eighteen.” He couldn’t think of anything to say, his feet cemented in the same spot they had both been a minute ago.
“I’m not eighteen.” That’s what made him tense up and finally move his feet.
“What?”
“I turned nineteen in April.” She mumbled with her head down, like she didn’t want to see his reaction.
“Your birthday came and went and you didn’t tell me?”
“I-I didn’t feel like celebrating.”
“Neither did I and you still knew.”
“Not by choice!” She looked up suddenly and took a step forward, “You weren’t planning on telling me! I found out from Theo and Pansy that it was your birthday so don’t pull that with me.”
“And you were hurt by it and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” He ran a hand on the back of his head, “But why wouldn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t want anyone to know. No one knew.” She held her arms out, getting defensive. “I had more of a reason to not celebrate!”
“Are we playing who had it worse right now, Anari?” Blaise gritted out, stepping closer to her.
“If we were, It’d be me.” She huffed out, crossing her arms.
“I’m not doing this with you.” Blaise shook his head, trying to turn away but Ana’s hand caught his arm.
“We are doing this!” She exclaimed, “It’s long overdue.”
“What do you mean? A fight?” She just raised both of her eyebrows at him like he should know the answer. “I don’t want to keep going over this with you, I get it but the war sucked for all of us.”
“You’re ridiculous. That’s outrageous! You had it hard, did you? Mummy didn’t coddle you enough?”
“Ana, please.” He said with a little more emotion that he’d wanted to. He didn’t want to fight, they’d been doing so well.
“Blaise, I am living your life!” She groans, “I’m hanging out with your friends, seeing your mother every week.”
“I didn’t ask for this either, you know.”
“But admit it, you’re much happier— much more comfortable in this situation than I am.”
“Yeah! I probably am but that’s because my family and friends didn’t pick the wrong side of the war and get themselves killed.” He had gone too far. He knew it as soon as the words came out of his mouth but it hit him even harder when he saw Anari visibly deflate.
“You’re right.” Her voice was raspy and filled with emotion. She turned from him and walked outside through the back door.
Blaise was left in silence for a moment, unsure of what to do next. He stood awkwardly in the kitchen as Tilly popped into the room. “I’m sorry to bother you but would you like Tilly to finish breakfast?”
“Um…” Blaise didn’t know what had just happened, “I’ll clean it up in a moment.”
He left Tilly in the kitchen and followed Ana outside. She was sitting in the grass, resting her head on her arms across her raised knees.
Blaise lowered himself next to her, leaving about a foot of space between them. “I’m sorry.”
“Blaise Zabini apologizing? The world must be ending.” She huffed.
“I shouldn’t have said that. I am sorry.”
“I know, I’m not mad at you.” She raised her head, looking at him with red eyes and tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’m just pregnant and hormonal and it’s all just been a lot. I miss my family and friends.”
“I know you do.” Blaise muttered, slowly moving his arm around her shoulders, he moved as carefully as he could in case she was lying about not being mad at him. “I’m sorry you don’t have them.”
“I know you are.” She mumbled, leaning into him, letting him comfort her. “I wanted to share these things with them.”
Blaise kept silent just rubbing his hand up and down her arm as comforting as possible.
“Everything has changed.” She lets out a watery emotionless laugh, “I want to go back.”
“Me too.” He whispers into the wind, watching the waves crash back and forth into the rocks, “I see why you like it out here.”
“It’s my spot, you can’t steal it.” She mumbled softly.
“I won’t steal it if you share.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Blaise thinks for a moment and then speaks, “I know I’m not your friends or your family but I hope you know that I’ll be there for you when you need me and even when you don’t. I can’t replace them but I promise to be worthy of your friendship.”
“Friends? Is that what we are?” She asks softly, still not looking at him.
“At least.” He shrugs, “Partners? Husband and wife technically… Friends at the very least.”
“We can’t mess it up.” She leans into him more, absentmindedly laying a hand on her stomach.
“We won’t.”
─TIED TOGETHER─
The next couple of days they’d kept their routine up, Blaise waking up before Ana most days and pulling his body away from her. Every night they moved to each other in their sleep, Blaise doesn’t mention it in the morning.
While Blaise was making breakfast Ana was getting ready to go to town, Blaise has been wanting her to get out of the house so he can do something so it was convenient. What wasn’t convenient was her walking over 3 kilometers by herself. When Ana walked downstairs, dressed and her bag packed for the mystery house.
“To ease your poor poor hopeless husband’s mind will you let Tilly accompany you?”
“Oh is my poor poor hopeless husband really that worried?” She raised an eyebrow, “I’ll be fine.”
“For my health, let her come with you.” He pleads with a smile.
“Fine.” When she agreed Blaise gave himself a little internal pat on the back.
Once they left Blaise planned to get straight to work but an owl sitting in the kitchen window made him freeze, he knew who this was from. The white and beige owl looked at him with a deadpanned face, like he was over everything, if a bird can even emote. Blaise grabbed the letter attached to his leg and fed him a treat from the bowl sitting on the counter.
It was from Draco.
Update, Bluebird
They’re investigating them still, the green family are still underground, no one has seen or heard from them in months. But they seem to be alive, just hidden. The group is still as secretive as possible which is both good and bad in our case. They are panicking here a little, no one likes stray deflectors, they dislike a united group even more. HE is keeping silent over this but everyone in the circle is on edge. Be careful of your next moves, they will not take anything lightly.
— Blackbird
Blaise took a deep breath before walking into the living room and throwing the letter in the fire. Draco has been working in the ministry for months and the past couple of weeks Blaise has asked him to look into the Patil family, Ana’s best friend and her family. They seem to be okay but he doesn’t have enough information to give her hope.
They’ve been using code names in case any of their letters are intercepted, they must be careful. The group however? Blaise doesn’t even know what to make of them.
Blaise decides to shove this away in his mind and focus on the task at hand.
After sitting with Anari outside and having to help her up from the ground he decided she needed a real seat out there. He had Tilly get him what he needed.
Wood and nails were sitting in front of him and he wasn’t sure what to do. But he was going to try nevertheless.
Blaise was glad it was a clear day while he carried out the wood and tools to the cliff.
He looked at the materials for a moment, unsure of what to do next. He sank to his knees and got started on…something?
Blaise was ashamed how long it took him just for it to turn out so ugly. He tried to squint but it was still lopsided, it was still misshapen.
He wanted to prove to himself that he could do something like this without magic but… It seems he couldn’t
“What the hell are you doing out here?” Was called out from the kitchen door. Blaise tried to scramble for his wand to transfigure the bench into literally anything else, but she was already in view. “What is this?”
“It was supposed to be a bench.” Blaise groaned, rubbing at his temples.
“It’s lovely.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
She rounded the clump of wood and looked at it with a tilted head, “I’m not lying. I can’t believe you built something for me.”
“Tried— I tried to build something for you.”
“It’s still standing, isn’t it?” She turns to look at him, “Have you tested it out yet?”
“No. It’s a monstrosity.” He protested but turned with her to sit as well. “If it collapses you can’t laugh at me.
“Stop it. It’s wonderful.” She beams at him, leaning back and staring at the sea.
“I will transfigure it into something prettier.”
“Pretty doesn’t matter.” She bumps her shoulder against his and smiles up at him, “This is the kindest gift I’ve ever gotten.”
Pregnancy wasn’t getting any easier. It was well into April and Anari was almost done being pregnant. She was due in Autumn.
Ana was feeling oddly nostalgic today and decided to go through some of her old photos that she had piled away.
She found one of her, Cho, and Padma at Hogsmeade playing in the snow, they were laughing, and throwing snowballs. She missed those girls more than she could say.
There were many photos of the three of them, one before the Yule Ball all in their dorm. Another at the lake on a sunny day.
A lot of them were of her at her grandmothers or of her grandmother. She was the sweetest woman Ana knew, she’d raised her since she can remember. Her grandmother taught her everything she knew, taught her to be kind, taught her to fight back when she needed to.
There were lots of photos of the ocean, the waves crashing in and pulling out. Her vision blurred as she stared at the moving photograph and it was like she could hear it again, the seagulls above, the wind. Sure, she had the ocean here but it wasn’t the same, not at all. This side of the ocean was different, plagued with haunting memories. Those waves held joyful moments.
When she looked outside her window now and saw the cliffs and water all she could remember was sitting out there her first night in her white gown. Her quiet sobs filtered out by the rush of wind and harsh crash of waves.
This is her sea now, no more of the one she grew up with. This is the one she gets.
She found a couple of letters that she had kept from her grandmother while she was in school. She’d gotten a handful from her uncle in sixth and seventh year but she had been instructed to burn every single one. There were some from her friends during holidays as well. She read through every one carefully.
Anari tried not to think of her old life; it only made her sad but this time of year she couldn’t help but reminisce. Her birthday was tomorrow.
She’d decided not to tell anyone, she didn’t feel like celebrating this year. She was nineteen. She was married. She was pregnant. She always felt alone. She was alone. Her family was dead. Her friends were missing.
I have Blaise. She kept trying to remind herself but did she?
Did she have Blaise for support? If she wasn’t carrying his child would he care if she lived or died?
She has Astoria and Pansy. But she didn’t. Those were Blaise’s friends who had taken pity on her.
She didn’t have anyone to herself, nothing was hers, no one was her friend. Blaise was an ally if anything.
The person around her most was Tilly and her and Blaise still hadn’t decided if she was a spy or not. There was no one in this world that she didn’t have to filter herself around and that was terrifying. Isolating.
Staring at the pile of letters and photos she longed for company of any of those people, her grandmother, her uncle, Padma, Cho, anyone. Anyone from her past life.
But the reality of it, none of them knew her anymore, not really. She wasn’t the same person she was a year ago, she barely recognized herself.
─TIED TOGETHER─
Ana couldn’t sleep, it was officially her birthday. She was nineteen.
She was sitting outside in the grass on the cliffs, it was a clear night, they were getting more of those now that they were officially in spring.
She was sitting outside to stop herself from baking, the last thing she needed was to be handling raw eggs, the smell made her want to throw up recently. There was always an itch to get into the kitchen though, but now she has to find a new calming activity for her nights.
She didn’t know how long she was out there but the moon was still high in the sky and the house was still quiet. Ana made her way back inside and glanced at the clock on the wall– two in the morning. Her sleep schedule was awful and she didn’t expect it to get better anytime soon. Her dreams have been plagued with dangerous memories recently, memories of her friends and her family, and her being able to do absolutely nothing to help them— to save them. Tomorrow—or today, she’ll have to prepare a Dreamless Sleep potion. Ana didn’t know how much longer she could take the lack of rest, even if she was sleeping she wasn’t resting.
Ana slowly made her way up the creaking stairs taking one step at a time to try and not wake Blaise. She tiptoed back to her room and threw off her robe and laid in bed. She stared out into the night through the window and waited for sleep to take her. But sleep never came.
The moon was low and the sky was gaining color when she left it— an uneasy heavy feeling in her stomach, she knew the drill. Sitting up as quickly as she could she rushed into the bathroom, ignoring the book that fell from the table with a slam.
Kneeling over the toilet she gripped the cold porcelain bowl, letting out a gutted noise from the back of her throat. This morning there wasn’t a knock, the door pushed open quickly and a shirtless Blaise rushed into the room.
Blaise kneeled behind her, wrapping his arms around her and using one hand to gather her curls back. He shushed her and rubbed his hands up and down her side from where his arms were surrounding her. While Ana was emptying her stomach once again he whispered into her ear apologies and reassurance.
This is their new normal. But this morning Blaise did something out of the ordinary, when Ana finally deflated, resting her head on her arms he kissed the crook of her neck lingering for maybe a moment too long.
“Did you sleep?” Blaise whispered in her ear, his voice raw and scratched from unuse. Ana shook her head slightly and Blaise clicked his tongue before standing behind her and lifting her up, one arm under her legs and the other around her shoulders.
Anari didn’t have the energy she usually would have to refuse. He sat her on her bed, sitting her up and Tilly was already standing by the bedside table with a glass of water and a vial of something.
Blaise handed Ana the water silently and she took it greedily, her throat feeling raw and tired. Once she drained the glass he took it from her and handed her the vial. Before she could ask, she answered her silent question, “Calming Draught. It’ll help.”
She slightly nodded and drained the potion. When he stood up from his spot next to her on the bed Ana caught his hand, “Thank you.”
After sending her a quick squeeze on her hand he spoke quietly, “Shut up. Go to sleep.”
He took a step away from the bed heading towards the door but Ana spoke up before he made it across the room, “Wait— would you…”
She didn’t have to finish, after she glanced next to her Blaise nodded and rounded the bed to sit on the other side. He laid down with his head resting against the headboard and he looked at Ana, she melted into the bed, feeling the potion kicking in.
Once she was comfortable she felt Blaise’s hands on her head, twisting and running his hands down her hair, slightly massaging her head while he was at it.
It was the easiest Ana had fallen asleep in months and she enjoyed a quiet rest.
─TIED TOGETHER─
When Blaise woke up Ana was still in a deep sleep, her breaths even and heavy, and her body spread out on the bed. He quietly snuck out of the room and down to the kitchen, Tilly was already there cleaning.
“Hello! Can Tilly do anything for you?” She asked from where she was kneeled on the counter.
“No, I’m going to make Anari breakfast.” He replied, heading toward the fridge to gather ingredients, he stared at the eggs in his hand and paused, “Actually, Tilly, would you help me?”
“Of course!” She smiled and instead of hopping down she instantly disappeared. After a moment Blaise heard a quiet shuffling past the closed pantry door. She popped back on the counter with an armful of ingredients. “What would you like to make? We can make pancakes, eggs and toast, bacon, sausage, anything!”
“Let’s do eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast? That will probably be best with how she’s been feeling.” He nodded to himself and Tilly disappeared again before apparating back with only bread in her hands.
“What would you like Tilly to do?” She sets down the bread on the counter and looks to Blaise.
“You can help with the meat, thank you, Tilly.” He smiled and went to grab a pan.
Once breakfast was ready Blaise divided the food up onto two plates after Tilly refused a portion. He found a tray to set the plate and juice on and he walked back upstairs.
When he slowly opened the door to Ana’s room he found her still laying down but eyes staring blankly at the window.
“How’d you sleep?” He asks quietly from his spot at the door, she slightly jumps and sits up quickly.
“Good.” She breathed out, swiping her hair out of her face. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” He muttered, stepping closer with the tray in hand, “Tilly and I made breakfast.”
“You did?” She stares at Blaise almost blankly for a moment before melting a second later and bit her lip slightly, “Thank you.”
“Eat.” He sets down the tray in her lap and sits on the side of the bed by her legs. “Was the potion helpful?”
“Yes. I should make some dreamless sleep potions today though.”
“You’re having nightmares?” He questions, furrowing his eyebrows slightly, Ana hadn’t told him about any dreams she’d been having. He’d assumed she couldn’t sleep because of the baby.
“Yeah, it’s fine though.”
“It’s obviously not if you can’t sleep.” He points out, crossing his arms slowly.
“It’s fine, Blaise.” She tries to send him a sleepy smile. “I’m sure they’ll go away.”
“What are they about?”
“I don’t want to talk about this.” She mutters, taking a bit of her food.
“Tell me anyway.” He uncrossed his arms and put a hand on her knee through the blanket.
“It’s just memories and sometimes…”
“Sometimes?”
“Things that could happen now.”
“Like?”
“Blaise.” She sighs lightly. “Please don’t push this.”
“Okay.” He thinks for a moment, wanting to say this next thought perfectly, “I think— I think it would be beneficial if we slept in the same room for a while.”
“Why?” She jerks back a little, surprised with his words.
“I want to be able to be there if— when you get sick. If you need something I don’t want you to have to get it yourself. I’m your partner in this.”
“It’s really not necessary.” She says, shaking her head at the thought. “I’m fine.”
“You say that word so much it’s lost its meaning. You’re not fine and that’s okay. It would also give me peace of mind if I was there for you. Please.”
She thinks for a moment, “We can try it out for a couple of nights.”
Blaise nods with a small smile and stands slowly, “I’ll get started on that Dreamless Sleep potion.”
“I can–”
“Shut up and eat.”
─TIED TOGETHER─
After Blaise finished making the potion he checked Ana’s room and found it empty. After calling out for her and hearing a small hum from a room down the hallway he found her in the nursery, hand on her stomach and looking around. “I hate this.”
“I know.”
“No– I hate this room.” She walked deeper into the room, dragging a finger down the width of the bassinet, “It’s so dull.”
“Do you want to paint it?” Blaise offers from his spot in the doorway watching her open the curtains.
“I think I do.” She mutters, “I can go into town and get some—”
“No.” Blaise shook his head, leaning against the doorframe, “I’ll get it, I don’t want you walking there.”
“What did I tell you about telling me what to do?” She rolled her eyes, slowly turning to him.
Blaise took two slow steps until he was just a foot in front of her, “I don’t really care about that right now. You’re my wife– pregnant with my child, You’ll stay here.”
“Blaise.” She huffed slightly, “I’m fine.”
“What did I say about that word?” He caught her wrist and gave it a small squeeze, daring her to argue with his eyes. When she didn’t speak up he continued, “Now, what color do you want?”
“I don’t know.” She deflated a little, looking around the room. “A light color, yellow?”
“Green?” Blaise smiled.
“Blue.”
“The kitchen is blue.” Blaise shook his head.
“You just want the baby to be a Slytherin.” She laughed for a moment before coming to a realization. “Is it safe? To go to Hogwarts?”
“I’m not totally sure, but we have time to figure it out.” He tried to smile reassuringly. “Let’s get yellow. We can leave the trim white. It’ll look great.”
“We need curtains too.” She hums, “Oh and maybe a rug.”
“You give me a list and I’ll do the best I can— we can always transfigure it.”
“I don’t like this.” She sighs, “I would like to go.”
“Accept defeat, baby.” He jokes, letting out a low laugh. “Make a list.”
Blaise leaves her in the nursery and goes back to his room to get ready to go.
When Blaise Apparated back from town his arms were full with everything from Ana’s list. Several different shades of paint, a rug, a lamp, and a mobile for above the bassinet.
He laid out the things in the nursery and watched as Ana examined it all. He was a little nervous— he wanted to make her… Happy? Maybe. He wanted to make her feel better. He wanted to do this right for her.
“How many colors did we need?”
“Well you said Yellow.” He crossed his arms a little defensively, “So I got oat, beige, Pale sunshine, sunflower, soft buttercup, and something called fucking bicycle yellow. Don’t say I didn’t give you options.”
Ana let out a light laugh, looking at all the different colors. “Thank you.”
“Shut up and let’s get to work.”
Ana rolled her eyes and picked up the Bicycle Yellow and Blaise got to work on moving the furniture from the walls. Ana went to drag the dresser, “Stop, you shouldn’t lift heavy stuff. Move the chair.”
“I can move the dresser.” She rolled her eyes but moved to the chair nevertheless. “You’re acting like I’m fragile.”
Blaise didn’t respond, moving the heavy objects himself as Ana got the paint ready. They painted in silence for a little until Ana spoke up, “I know we have time but… do you have name ideas?”
“Oh.” Blaise froze for a moment, his hand stopping mid stroke. “I never really thought about it.”
“Me neither.” Ana shrugged.
“I thought every girl had a list of names?” Blaise raised an eyebrow.
“I used to but…” She thought for a moment, “Nothing seems fitting anymore.”
“What doesn’t go with the name Zabini?” He laughed, “What did you assume your kid's last name would be? The Hufflepuff’s?”
“No.” She shook her head playfully, “They just seem too joyful now.”
“Maybe that’s what we need. Some joy.” Blaise turned to look at her, “Tell me them.”
“I uh— I liked Rory.” She shrugged, “I always like Aiofe and Jonah.”
“I like those.”
“No you don’t.” She laughed, still painting with her back to him.
“Yes I do!”
“I thought you might like something like…” She thinks for a moment, “Charles.”
“Charles?” He questioned, “What the hell made you think of that?”
“I don’t know, it’s a traditional name. Wait no– did you want to stick with the unique family names?”
“Don’t even, Anari.”
“That sounds weird.”
“What, your name?”
“No, you saying it. You’ve been doing that more recently.”
“Well, I can’t really call you Moody now can I?” He paused for a second, “Actually I think I can with the way you’ve been acting recently.”
Ana held a hand to her heart, faking a gasp. He dripped her brush in the paint and flicked it at him, getting yellow paint on his cheek.
“This is how you want to play?” He dipped his own paintbrush and splattered it on her shirt. “It’s on, honey.”
─TIED TOGETHER─
When the two had showered after their painting they met in Ana’s bedroom. Blaise stood on one side of the bed and Ana the other just staring at each other, not sure what to do next. “I can sleep on the floor.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, we’re both adults, we can sleep in the bed together.” Ana sighed before opening up the covers to climb into the bed. “Just stay on your side.”
“I could say the same thing to you. This morning you were spread eagle on the bed.”
“I was not!”
“You were, don’t even try to deny it, I woke up with a foot in my back.”
“Lies.” She shook her head while watching Blaise reach for the bottom of his shirt, his movements stuttered for a moment. “Go ahead.”
“You just want a show.” Blaise winked at her before pulling his shirt over his head and climbing into bed, facing her on his side. “You’re sure you’re okay with me staying in here?”
“Yeah. We’ll try it out.” She shrugs, tucking her hand between where her cheek met the pillow, sinking into the bed, and facing Blaise. “If you snore, you’re out of here.”
“I don’t snore.” He huffs offended, Ana gave him a suspicious look for a moment before taking a slow blink and clutching the blanket closer to her body. “Are you sure you’re comfortable?”
“We’ve been married for six months, it’s fine.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.”
“I’m comfortable.” She whispered, “You know I’d tell you if I wasn’t.”
“I know.” He sighed, shuffling around to get comfortable, “Your bed’s better than mine.”
“Sorry. I realised we never discussed who should get what room.”
“I went to the guest room first, we didn’t need to discuss it.”
“I kind of feel bad about you sleeping in the guest room for half a year.”
“Don’t.” He shook his head gently, “We both needed our space.”
“And now?”
“Now? I don’t know.” He shrugs, “We’re different people.”
“Yes, you’re much nicer now.”
“I was never mean.”
“Liar.” She laughed, “You always tried to get on my nerves and push my buttons.”
“That’s not mean.”
“You’re right, it’s annoying.” She sends him a sickly sweet smile.
The whole day Ana hadn’t really thought about her birthday, there was no sadness. It was a good day. She was officially nineteen.
“Shut up and go to sleep.” He laughs, rolling around to turn off the light, leaving them in quiet darkness.
I've been reading tied together and OMGGGGGGGG. I'm so happyyyy. This is like one of the best series I've read and I'm so glad Blaise is getting the love he deserves 🫶🫶.
eeeekkk!! I'm so glad you love it!!!!! I love Blaise and he totally doesn't get the love he deserves, I feel like there's a hug lack of fics surrounding him and that needs to be remedied immediately!!
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Ana was about over being pregnant. It wasn’t even the slight sickness she’d been having or the fatigue she felt. It was Blaise. He was acting like he was afraid of her and she was tired of it.
She had told him she was pregnant a month ago and he walked around the house on eggshells. He was rarely home still but if he was home he’d tiptoe around her asking if she needed anything every hour. She was going to break.
“Can I get—”
“If you say, can I get you anything one more time, I swear to all the gods above I will make you meet them.” She raised her voice, standing from her spot on the couch to turn around and look at him.
“Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing!” She huffed, gripping her hair in frustration. “I’m tired of you acting like this.”
“Like… what?” He trailed like he didn’t want to upset her more.
“Like you can’t speak to me normally! I’m fine! I promise, I barely feel different, and right now what I need is for you to keep treating me like normal!”
“How can I talk to you the way I used to!”
“By moving your mouth and having anything other sentence than ones that ends with get you.” She stepped around the couch to stand in front of him. “I need normalcy. I can’t have you treating me like I’m pregnant with your child.”
“But you are!” He huffs, growing frustrated.
“I know that.” She seethed, stepping closer to him, pointing a finger at his chest. “But we need to— just for a little while longer, act like I’m not.”
“I can’t act like this isn’t happening.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Try. If you can do anything for me, try, and act like everything is normal.” She breathed out, body visibly deflating. “I don’t want your false niceties. I can’t take it.”
“It’s not false. I want you to feel comfortable. Whether we like it or not, you're carrying my child and I care what happens to you now. I want you to have everything you could possibly need. You deserve at least that.”
Ana sighed, everything he did, anytime he spoke to her during this faze in her life it reminded her that it could be worse. She could be married to an evil man.
But she’s not, he’s close to perfect. He cares for her. He has slept in a separate room for five months with no complaints. The past couple of days when he hears her getting sick he knocks quietly on the door and holds her curls out of her face. He brings her water and brushes her back while she sits on the hard tile of the bathroom.
She was lucky. She was lucky to have Blaise.
Ana couldn’t even tell you two years ago if she wanted children or not but now she can’t deny there are worse men to have a child with.
Recently everything Blaise has been doing has become… less irritating.
Yemaya comes over for dinner every other night and Blaise leaves them to talk most of the time.
Blaise has turned his blob of… whatever he was trying to knit into a baby blanket.
There are worse men than Blaise Zabini.
But she wasn’t going to tell him that. It must be the pregnancy hormones.
─TIED TOGETHER─
Ana had been seeing the Muggleborns in the village more now that the weather was manageable to walk. There was still a heavy storm here and there that she couldn’t go out in but she tried to go at least twice a week.
Last time she was there little Emma asked her to bring sweets so of course she needed to stop at the shop before heading to the little town house.
When she got there the house was as quiet as it usually is. No lights on. No noise.
Anari raised her hand but she paused hearing a slight shuffle of clothes behind her. When she looked there was nothing. She waited a moment then raised her hand again.
She knocks three times quickly then twice slowly. It was the code they had made for her.
It didn’t take long for her to hear the click of a lock behind the door. She slowly opened it, revealing the small home.
Where she was normally met with warm smiles and quiet greetings came silence. She looked around the room and everyone was quiet. “Hello.”
She set down her things on the kitchen table near an older couple. The boxes of food and blankets and books.
“Ana.” A voice came from behind her. Dani. “Sit down.”
“What’s happened?” She looks around the room. She didn’t see at least five people that would usually be in the living room when she arrived.
“We got too comfortable.” Dani sighed, sniffily, holding her son, Tommy. “A group of us went into town, the weather was bad and we needed food. They were seen. I don’t know how but they never came back.”
“Who was in the group?” Ana was almost too scared to ask.
Daniella started listing names one after another, five names, then the final one, “Emma.”
“Emma?” Anari’s heart might have broken in half. Her hand found her stomach whether to feel for her unborn child or to still the churning in her stomach.
A six year old girl was taken. It doesn't matter whether it was Snatchers or Death Eaters, her fate was the same. She was a little Muggleborn girl. She was gone.
Anari was taking advantage of her good situation. It might not be the life she’d envisioned for herself but it was safe. She was safe. Blaise was kind. She was a Pureblood. She was privileged. For the past five months she’d been living in her own world– her own bubble– ignorant.
Dani was talking but Ana didn’t hear any of it. Little toothless Emma was gone. You never finished Charlotte's Web. You had four chapters left. She was so excited to finish the story, she wanted to know how it ended. She was supposed to come last week so they could read the last of it, she didn’t come because of a storm.
She should’ve come. If she had they wouldn't've been to go outside. Emma would still be here. Alive. There was a little chance that Emma was still breathing and Ana had to deal with that.
─TIED TOGETHER─
Blaise never thought Anari could be so stupid. She was sneaking around town and going to secluded houses to meet with god knows who. He would have thought she was seeing someone else if not for boarded up windows and dark alley. It could’ve been a drug deal for all he knows. He waited ten outside of the building for her but after thirty minutes he decided to apparate home and send it to the furthest corner of his mind for the night.
They’d been doing so good with not fighting. They hadn’t had any arguments recently and Blaise wanted to keep that streak alive.
He didn’t feel like fighting with his pregnant wife today so he said nothing when she got home. He wished he didn’t follow her. He should’ve stayed blissfully ignorant with whatever she’s been up to.
“Why are you so quiet?” Ana hummed from across the couch. She was curled under a blanket with a book opened on her lap but she hadn’t been reading, just staring blankly at the ink on the page.
“I’m not.” Blaise murmured, turning his own page of a book he was barely reading.
“You are.” She softly closed her book and straightened up, looking at him. “You’ve been trying to avoid speaking all day. Just grunts and hums.”
“I’m just tired.”
“I don’t believe you.” She crossed her arms, tilting her head at him. Blaise finally sets his own book down and meets her eyes.
“If I’m telling you something, assume it’s the truth.”
“I know what you look like when you’re hiding something, Blaise.” She scoots closer to him, “I can see the gears in your head moving.”
“I don’t want to argue tonight.” Blaise sighed and looked at her hopelessly.
“You love arguing. You’d argue with a brick wall if you could still prove you were right.” Ana laughed, “So tell me, what’s going on.”
“Nothing.” He huffs, finally sitting up getting unintentionally closer to her. Blaise couldn’t tell her what was actually on his mind at this moment. What he said next wasn’t necessarily a lie, it had been plaguing him. “I– This just all feels a little too real recently.”
“What does?”
“This.” He waves around the room before his eyes land on her stomach.
Ana subconsciously laid a hand on her belly, it had rounded recently. “I know.”
“I know you know.” He sighed, scratching the back of his neck, “I can’t really complain where I am–”
“Yes you can.” Ana scoots even closer, trying to give his leg a reassuring squeeze. “You can complain, you can tell me you hate this. I understand better than anyone else. We haven’t been good at relying on each other in this…marriage. We need to do better, especially with what’s to come.”
Blaise just looks at her, unsure of what to say. She seemed utterly sincere. This might be the most genuine conversation they’ve ever had. “I’m sorry about that. I haven’t been the most understanding with what’s happened.”
“What’s the saying? The war is over but the battle’s just begun? That’s our life now and it’ll be a lot easier to come out the other side if we’re together. Neither of us are ready or prepared but we’ll learn together.” Anari nods, sniffling quietly. Blaise raised a hand and brushed her cheek, tucking hair behind her ear.
“Together.” Blaise smiled almost bittersweetly. “You’re tied to me now, Moody.”
“Zabini you mean.” She laughs as a soft tear runs down her cheek that he promptly swipes away with his thumb. Blaise hums in question, “My last name isn’t Moody.”
“Damn.” Blaise leans his head back dramatically, “I can’t use it in my jokes anymore. I had the best ones too.”
“Gave me a fucking complex.” She laughed lightheartedly. “I’d tell you to cheer up, but I guess that would ruin your whole branding.”
“You remember it word for word? I really am just that funny.”
"Big headed too.”
They sat quietly for a moment just being close to each other– someone. It was good to find comfort with someone who understands you fully. That’s living day to day with you. Going through all of it together has brought Ana and Blaise closer than they could’ve ever imagined.
Blaise takes the first leap and slowly wraps his arms around Ana’s waist, pulling her into his chest. She goes willingly, just breathing in the comfort for a moment.
A quiet and peaceful moment.
Their hug didn’t last long, the second they heard a little pop when Tilly entered the room they pushed each other away like the other was contagious with a deadly disease.
“Can Tilly get anything for you two before bed?” Tilly bowed her head a little bit, standing with her arms held behind her back in front of them.
“I’m alright, thank you.” Ana spoke softly and Blaise nodded in agreement. When Tilly disapparated Ana carefully stood up, folding up her blanket and making her way out of the room with a quick, “Goodnight.”
─TIED TOGETHER─
When Anari woke up Blaise was already gone, Tilly told her that he said he’d be back before dinner. It was before noon when the sound of the floo igniting was heard from the other room.
“Ana? Babe?” Astoria’s voice was heard, walking into the room with a hand resting on her stomach.
“Astoria?” Ana calls out, setting down her knitting project.
“Hey! I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out!” She smiled, walking around the couch to sit next to her. “Since Blaise and Draco are together I figured I’d come see what you were up to!”
“Blaise and Draco?”
“Yeah!” Astoria smiles sweetly.
“What are Blaise and Draco doing?” Ana had gone months without knowing where Blaise went every day and she finds out he’s with Draco?
“I never know what they’re up to, Draco’s either at the Ministry or hidden in the office with Blaise.” She shrugs, grabbing a blanket and getting comfortable on the couch. “I try to give him his space with everything.”
“Everything?”
“What’s going on in the Ministry that is.”
“What’s been going on?”
“Oh! Um–” Astoria thought very carefully on what she said next, looking around the room like to make sure they were alone. She whispered, scooting closer to Ana, “The Rebels, they’ve been umm… Rioting?”
“Why haven’t I heard anything about this?”
“It’s not something they really want to put in the Daily Prophet.” Astoria shrugged, “I only know because Draco told me. Blaise doesn’t talk about these kinds of things?”
“No. He doesn’t.” Ana mumbles quietly. Rebels? People are publicly defying the Death Eaters and Anari had no idea. She can’t help but feel like Blaise didn’t tell her on purpose like he didn’t trust her. It is hypocritical she knows but she can’t help but feel hurt that he wouldn’t tell her.
So everyday Blaise is gone he’s going to see Draco? That can’t be right.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring this up.” Astoria shakes her head, almost looking disappointed in herself for ruining the mood.
“You’re alright. I’ll just have to have a conversation with him when he gets home.” Ana said quietly before looking up at Astoria, noticing her hand still laid on her belly. “You’re pregnant?!”
“I am!” Astoria smiles sweetly, “Draco and I found out a couple of days ago! I heard you’re pregnant too!”
“I am.” Ana knew she sounds a whole lot less excited than Astoria but she still tried to smile. “How are you feeling?”
“Good! No sickness yet! But I have been moody recently, poor Draco, dealing with my wrath.” Anari can’t quite imagine Astoria raising her voice, she couldn’t be any taller than five feet two, she was petite, and her default expression was a smile. She couldn’t hurt a fly.
“Blaise has always dealt with my anger. He’s used to it.”
Astoria lets out a snort, “I remember. We all had to hear about you for years from Blaise!”
“Oh? So he used to talk about me in school? I knew I was winning in our rivalry.”
“Was it really ever a rivalry?” Astoria questioned, shifting on the couch. “I can’t help but think you too were… umm– tension filled?”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s just I always thought that you and Blaise would end up… dating.” She shrugged, “Which I guess I was kind of right but skip the dating and straight to marriage.”
“Are you serious?” Anari scrunched up her face, “I couldn't even imagine!”
“You’re telling me you never felt anything positive towards him?” She raised a suspecting eyebrow, “I always got the feeling Blaise thought you were pretty— which you are.”
“No! I never thought of him in that way. He never thought— he hated me.”
“And he doesn’t anymore?”
“I’m not sure. We have a tolerance agreement.” Her and Blaise willingly getting together? That seems so bizarre in Ana’s mind.
─TIED TOGETHER─
When Blaise got home Anari was sitting at the dining room table, facing the fireplace, arms crossed, and face serious. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Ana hummed, Blaise standing stupidly in front of the fireplace, looking at her. “Astoria came over today. She and I had a chat. She figured since you and Draco were together she’d come see me.”
“Yeah? How was that?” He went to walk but her glare froze him in place.
“Infroming.” She sat up, “Were you going to tell me what was happening?"
“What’s happening?”
“Rebels?” She huffed, “You didn’t feel the need to let me in on that one?”
Blaise looked around the room for any sign of Tilly before speaking, “I didn’t want you to… get your hopes up.”
“Get my hopes up? I’m a grown woman, Blaise, not a child.”
“I know! I just…” Blaise knew deep down why he didn’t tell her. If he told her about The Order reforming into someone new. The Resistance was what they were calling themselves. If he’d told her she would’ve left to seek them out, she’d get herself killed, and as much as Blaise was trying to think that he was selfish and didn’t want to die for her. That wasn’t the case. He didn’t want her to get herself killed and not just because she’s carrying his child.
He tried not to think about this sudden affection for her life.
“You just what?” Ana stood, getting in his face. “Wanted to keep me clueless? You don’t trust me?”
“It’s not that.” He sighed, rubbing a hand on the back of his head, “I didn’t want you to go and do anything rash, something you’d regret.”
“Like what?”
“Like join them!” He huffed, exasperated, “You would seek them out, get yourself killed, when they’re a group of unorganized traitors who are one wrong move from getting themselves blown up!”
“Traitors?” She shook her head, “You know what you sound like right now?”
“I know but it's the definition of what they’re doing.”
“It beat the mutineers ruling over us now!”
“You don’t even know what they’re doing! You know nothing!”
“Because I don’t leave this damn house! You go out for hours and don’t tell me where you’ve been or what you’ve been doing. I should’ve known! Who’s a part of this group? Huh? The people on the Undesirables list?”
“Mostly.” He said, still face to face with her, “You know it’s not safe for you in the Wizarding World. And you go into town almost every day, doing god knows what in hidden alleys in boarded up houses!”
He hadn’t meant to say it. He didn’t want to bring it up but they were already fighting and it had been plaguing his mind.
“What?” She paused, stepping back slightly, “You followed me?!”
“I shouldn't've I know but I did. I’m not the only one keeping secrets in this relationship.” he spat out the last word like it tasted like venom. “So who’s in the house, Anari?”
She just stood there, looking at Blaise with a blank expression. He felt her fight disappear, the room becoming suddenly suffocating and stiff. She softly shook her head, turned, and walked up the stairs without another word. Leaving Blaise alone and breathless in the dining room.
January flew by in a rainy blur and Ana had knit two blankets and Blaise knitted a little blob of… something.
They tried to spend more time together and not fight but most of the time they just sat in silence avoiding speaking to each other.
It wasn’t until the middle of February when the girls finally had their girls night. Four of them went to Pansy and Theo’s Manor.
Ana officially met Daphne Greengrass– Astoria’s older sister who was lucky to graduate the year before them and the marriage law didn’t apply to her. She actually lived in her own flat in Diagon Alley and was training to be a healer at St. Mungos.
Astoria brought potion vials and Pansy got out some of her paint and they decided to paint them while listening to music.
“So how’s Blaise?” Daphne asked while painting a daisy on her bottle.
“Fine.” Ana shrugged.
“Is he being a pain?”
“Not so much anymore.” Anari didn’t look up as she painted.
“Do you feel any symptoms yet? I know you guys have been trying for a while and I’ve been getting sick.” Astoria spoke up.
“Really? Are you and Draco excited? I know you guys dated in school.”
“This isn’t what we hoped for but I did feel like it was in the future for us. Just maybe a little too soon.” Astoria shrugged, “I feel bad for you, I know you and Blaise didn’t get along in school, Pans’ and I are lucky to get guys we know and love even as friends.”
“I didn’t know you and Blaise didn’t get along.” Daphne spoke up.
“Yeah, we kind of fought in school. We spent a whole year being Herbology partners and I think Professor Sprout regretted making us as punishment.”
“Blaise was always a sweetheart to me.”
“‘Cause he had a major crush on you in first year.” Pansy rolled her eyes.
“Are you serious?” Daphne gasped.
“Yeah, it was annoying.” Astoria laughed, “But you were a pretty older girl. He had googly eyes.”
“That’s adorable.” Daphne cooed.
“I think third year was when he moved on from his crushes on older women.”
“Who’d he move on to?” Daphne questioned Pansy.
“I… Uh– don’t remember.” She muttered, scratching the back of her neck.
Ana saw Astoria smirk to her right and just shrugged it off, maybe she remembered but didn’t feel like spilling all of Blaise’s secrets tonight.
“You were a Ravenclaw, right, Anari?” Daphne looked at the girl.
“Yeah, I was.” She smiled, looking at the girl.
“I always wished I was in Ravenclaw.” She sighed, “I wanted to be one of those girls that could love studying and be creative, but as much as I tried, I sucked at it.”
Daphne turned her vial to show Ana her work and she was right— her flower was awful–ly abstract. Ana couldn’t help but cover her mouth trying to cover up a laugh.
“It’s okay, laugh, it’s truly awful.” She laughed, turning the bottle back to her to continue. “Now, Pans’, how is it living with Nott?”
“He loves to hear himself talk.” Pansy laughed, “But my pairing could’ve been worse, at least I know he’s kind and I care for him.”
“I was terrified going into graduation, every single one of my friends weren’t there. The only guy I wouldn’t hate getting would’ve been Ernie Macmillian, the Hufflepuff, and I just knew him from Prefect meetings.”
“So Blaise wasn’t on the list?”
“No. But he’s better than others, Crabbe and Goyle were definitely at the bottom of my list. Blaise may be a pain in the arse but he’s better than those two—” Ana covered her mouth, “Are you guys friends with those guys?”
“God no, Draco was for a year or two until we showed him the light.” Astoria laughed.
“Who were you friends with in school?” Daphne asked Ana.
“Padma Patil was my best friend, Cho Chang was my roommate and another friend. Just those two honestly. I had a lot of acquaintances but not close friends except for them?”
“Do you know what happened to either of them?” Astoria asked softly.
“No.” Ana sighed, “Neither of them were at graduation. Cho was a half-blood so I don’t know, she may have fled. Padma, I wouldn’t be surprised if they fled the country. Probably the smartest idea. Or maybe they were caught. I really don’t know.”
“I’m sorry.” Astoria reached over and gave Ana’s hand a light squeeze.
“Do you have any family?” Daphne asked gently.
“Not anymore.” She shrugged.
“You have us now, I’ll try not to annoy you too much.” Pansy reached her arm around Ana’s shoulders and gave her a tight hug.
Anari nodded while she saw the other two nodding in agreement. “I appreciate that. It’s been lonely, especially with it just being Blaise and I most of the time. We live in silence most of the time.”
“I hope it gets better.” Daphne sighed, “You might never love him but you could be friends. That’s all you can really ask for.”
─TIED TOGETHER─
After girl’s night ended they agreed to do one every month, which Ana was actually really excited for.
It was late February when Ana had glanced at her calendar she’d set up in her room to track her ovulation cycle. She had to look twice. She hadn’t bled this month. She was at least a week late, her and Blaise would usually try in the next couple of days.
She felt her breast but she didn’t feel sensitive like the books had told her. She hadn’t felt sick. Or Nauseous. It could be a mistake.
But she knew, in her gut she knew.
Ana was pregnant.
Blaise wasn’t home to see her pacing around the house.
“Ana, can Tilly get you anything?” Tilly popped into the room, “Are you alright?”
She needed to talk to someone, now. “No, I’m going to leave the house, If Blaise gets back will you tell him I’ll be back before dinner?”
“Yes, of course!” Tilly smiled while Ana quickly moved to the floo.
“Zabini Manor.” She said clearly as she dropped the dust at her feet.
She was in the sleek living room instantly, Yemaya’s house elf appeared instantly. “Miss Ana? Can I get Mistress Zabini for you?”
“Yes please.”
Yemaya was in the room less than a minute later with squinted eyes that looked her up and down. “Where is Blaise?”
“I don’t know.” Ana’s hands were shaking, her breathing laboured.
“What is wrong?”
“Nothing! I mean— I’m not sure.” Yemaya motioned for Ana to sit on the couch next to her.
“Take a breath child.” She reached and set her warm hands on top of Ana’s. Ana took a couple of deep breaths and shook her head, “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I haven’t bled this month.” She admitted in a whisper.
“Okay…” Yemaya took a breath, “That is good news, yes?”
“I mean… technically.”
“You were supposed to conceive, you did. That’s good.”
“Right.”
“Does Blaise know?”
Ana shook her head, “He wasn’t home and I never know where he is if not home. I didn’t know where else to go— I don’t have anyone to talk to—”
“You can come to me.” Yemaya interrupted, “I may not want this for Blaise but it doesn’t matter if either of us like it, you are a Zabini and are carrying his child. You might not be pregnant, it could just be late. How many days later are you?”
“A week.”
“Okay…” Yemaya nodded and took a breath, “The only way is to brew the potion.”
“I– I should’ve done that. I shouldn't have come before I knew.” Ana went to stand but Yemaya didn’t let go of her hand.
“You can do it here. Come with me.” She didn’t let go of Ana’s hand as if she was scared she was going to make a break for it. The two walked upstairs to an office with a cauldron.
Ana stood by the door while Yemaya went through different potion books. She pulled out an old book with a creased spine. “Here we are. The potion is simple. Have a seat.”
Ana sat in a loveseat that was against the wall and she saw Yemaya go through her cabinets looking for things, she spoke every ingredient under her breath. “Powdered Moonstone… Dandelion Root… Pearl Dust… Sage… Toad Wart Essence.”
She added salt water to the potion and when she was finished she poured it into a clear vial. She looked at Ana and brought the bottle closer to her, “Hair.”
Ana quickly plucked a strand of hair from her head and dropped it into the potion. Yemaya swirled it around as they saw the stand dissolve.
The little amount of liquid started glowing gold and Yemaya’s eyes widened. “You’re pregnant.”
Ana felt her lips tremble a little bit but she did her best to take deep breaths.
“Oh baby.” Yemaya tutted, setting the vial down and bringing Ana into her arms, “It will be okay. I promise. No one ever feels ready to become a mother but you do it anyway.”
Yemaya tried her best to soothe the quiet cries of Ana in her shoulder, rubbing her back and hushing her. “I’m sorry, I knew this was going to happen, I don’t know why it’s affecting me so much.”
“It doesn't matter how much you prepare now it’s real and it’s okay to freak out a little. Merlin knows I did when I had Blaise.” She pulled back, her hands on Ana’s arms. “I was scared, I had no mother to guide me, just like you.”
Ana nodded, “I need to tell Blaise.”
“Tell him when you’re ready.” She nods, “Take the night to think it over and give him time as well. But at the end of the day, you are in this together, you are meant to be a team.”
“You’re right.”
“I always am.” Yemaya winks, squeezing her hands and wiping under Ana’s eyes, swiping her tears away. She stepped back and called Polly in, “Would you mind preparing lunch for Anari and I?”
Polly left with a nod and a smile. “I don’t want to impose—”
“You already have.” Yemaya sent her a kind smile and moved to go back to the living room.
─TIED TOGETHER─
“How was your day?” Blaise asked across the dinner table. Ana needed time before she told him maybe a day or two or ten.
“Fine.” She took a bite of her pasta, “Nothing special.”
Blaise furrowed his eyebrows at how fast she replied but shrugged it off, “Any plans tomorrow?”
“If it doesn’t rain I’d like to go into town or take a walk by the cliffs.” Ana shrugged, maybe she’d just rot in bed letting her mind take over.
“Are you alright?” Blaise speaks suddenly after a moment of silence, “You seem off tonight.”
“Yeah, I just didn’t sleep well, I’m knackered.” She feigned a yawn.
“Okay…” Blaise sighed, she was keeping something from him. She stood up from her spot at the dining table and handed her plate to a smiling Tilly and went to the living room to finish her book.
She was going to have a child with this man. Blaise was the father of her child. He deserved to know.
When he slowly walked into the living room seeing her sitting curled up on the sofa. He sighed and sat on the other end of the sofa and just looked at her.
It was like he was waiting for her to break, just his chocolate brown eyes staring into her soul. “Stop.”
“Stop what?”
“Looking at me.”
“Can I not look at you?” Blaise smiled a little too sweetly.
“No, you cannot.” She slammed her book shut.
“I think I can.” He whispered, not breaking eye contact.
“I would prefer to not do this tonight.” She sighed, fully turning her body to him.
“Do what? Speak?” He questioned, scooting closer to her.
“Blaise…” She sighed, “I’m too tired.”
“Too tired to move your mouth? You love talking.” He laughed softly, leaning against the back on the couch and throwing his arm up on the back of it.
“I do not.”
“It’s okay, I’ve grown a tolerance for it.” He reached over and twisted a curl around his finger.
“I’m glad.” She said, breaking eye contact to look at his finger tangled in her hair.
“Me too, makes my day to day life easier.” Blaise laughed, resting his head on his arm, looking at her. “Who was that Hufflepuff you were talking about on my birthday?”
“What are– oh! Um his name was Justin.”
“Justin?...” Blaise asked.
“Finch-Fletchley. He was in our year.”
“Did you date this Justin guy?”
“No…”
“Why not?”
“We were just friends. He didn’t want to date me.”
Ana could’ve sworn she heard Blaise mutter the word, “Idiot.”
“What’d you say?”
“Oh nothing.” Blaise waved her off, “look at us. Sixth year us would have aneurysms if they saw us now.”
“It’s definitely been a weird couple of years.” Ana laughed, crossing her arms over her chest and leaning against the back of the couch.
“Weird is an understatement.” Blaise chuckled while still playing with her hair.
“Yeah…” Anari rested her head on the back of the couch, looking up at the ceiling.
They sat in silence for a little bit and then Ana spoke up again, “I saw your mother today.”
“And she didn’t bite your head off?” He laughed, “What’d she come over for?”
“I went over there.” Anari admitted quietly.
Blaise sat up slowly, furrowing his eyebrows, “Why, did something happen?”
“I’m late.”
“Late for what?” Blaise said instantly until he realized, his mouth opened wide, and he blinked wildly, “Oh.”
“Yeah. She made me the potion to test— to make sure.”
“And?”
“I’m pregnant.” She sighed, unintentionally curling into herself more.
“Why didn’t you tell me when I got home?”
“I needed a moment.” She said quietly.
“Uh– okay. This is good.” He didn’t say it like he believed it, more like he was trying to convince himself.
“This is what we had to do.” She muttered, “We’ll make it a good thing.”
Blaise ran his hands over his face taking a deep breath, and laughed quietly. “Thank Merlin."
“What?”
“We don’t have to try anymore. That was the weirdest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
“Weird for you? You don’t even what to know how it felt–”
“Don’t tell me!” Blaise held a hand up, stopping her from finishing her sentence, “You’re right, I don’t want to know.”
Blaise and Ana didn’t discuss the balcony or the party in general. For the next two weeks they didn’t really talk, they went back to their new normal. Living together but living separate lives.
It was the middle of January when they finally sat down and had a full conversation. They sat across each other at the dinner table, eating a delicious pasta Tilly had cooked up for them.
“Do you feel any different?” Blaise asked after placing his fork down. Ana sent him a questioning look and he continued, “I don’t know what one feels when they are pregnant, but do you feel anything?”
“Um… I don’t think I feel different.” She shook her head, “the symptoms are like tenderness, nausea, fatigue, and a couple of others after the first month. But nothing yet, I could not be symptomatic yet or I might not be pregnant.”
“Do we need to try again?” He said quietly, as if it pained him. “Is it time yet? I mean it’s almost been a month since…”
“Yeah, I wanted to mention that, tomorrow is my first day of ovulation so we should try again then and then every other day for the next week.”
Blaise took a deep breath and nodded solemnly, “Okay.”
“Are you alright?” Ana couldn’t help but ask, he looked… disturbed.
“I’m fine…” He trails off, “I um– I don’t know.”
Ana waited for him to continue but he didn’t. “You always know, Blaise, what is it?”
“Nothing.” He meets her eyes after staring at his plate emotionlessly. “Shouldn’t there be an easier way?”
“There is.” She raises an eyebrow, “But I think we both would agree that’s not an option we’ll consider.”
“Right.” He nods, looking off in the distance as if there was more he wanted to say. “You’ll tell me if you feel anything, right?”
“‘Course.” She places her napkin on her plate and moves to bring it to the kitchen.
Tilly pops in quickly, “Oh! I’ll take that, Ana.”
“Thank you.” She accepts the help and hands the elf her plate. Ana looks at Blaise one more time before leaving the room, heading to the living room to continue her chess game she’d started.
It wasn’t long until Blaise walked in and sat across from her, “Are you winning?”
“I am.” She huffs and she decides to attempt something, “Want to play?”
“I’ll preface that I'm very good.”
“We’ll see about that.” She smiled slightly and he got comfortable and reset the table to play her.
It didn’t take long for Ana to say Checkmate and Blaise let out a groan, “Rematch.”
They played three more games, Anari winning every single one of them. “I thought you were good? How many times do you need to be humiliated?”
“I guess only four times before I give up.” Blaise lets out a laugh and stands from his spot. “I’m headed to bed, any plans tomorrow?”
“I’ll probably go into town again.”
“You’ve been going every day? Not too cold?” Blaise questions, walking around the couch to head to his room.
“Nah, It’s a peaceful walk if I bundle up.” Ana stood up and folded her blanket back up and set it on the couch. Blaise left silently and she went to the kitchen to make tea before bed.
─TIED TOGETHER─
Blaise was woken up bright and early to Tilly apparating into her room, “Mister Blaise, there are letters here for you.”
Weeks ago he had asked Tilly to bring him any mail he’d received immediately. He probably should’ve told her not to today— these ones weren’t important.
He thanked her and she left the room after setting the pile on his bedstand. The first one was from his mother asking him to come over for lunch. The next one was from Draco and Astoria giving him their best wishes. The next one was a howler from Theo and Pansy singing him happy birthday so loud he was worried it’d wake up Anari from across the house. And it did.
She was at his door in a matter of minutes, busting in. He was still in his pajamas and sitting up in his bed. “Are you alright? What the bloody hell was that?”
“Uh… I’m fine. Howler from Theo and Pansy, trying to mess with me.” Blaise mumbled, she’d never been in his room before and this felt strange, her standing in the doorframe in her pajamas. “Also, if you’re going to come into my room. Knock.”
Blaise hadn’t seen her since he’d handed her his cup of— you know— last night and they usually avoided eye contact until the next night they had to try.
“Firstly, tell Pansy and Theo that they can send Howlers just not at a quarter to six in the morning.” She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and pointed a finger at him, “Second, if you were dying you wouldn’t want me to knock now would you?”
“You thought I was being attacked?” He raised an eyebrow, "Wouldn't you be excited? Finally out of the contract, a widow.”
“I didn’t know what was happening and I’d love that, but who knows if they’d come after me next.” She shrugged, turning to shuffle back to bed.
“Good morning, then.” Blaises shouted at her back and only heard a groan in return and a slam of her door.
Blaise knew there was no going back to bed now so he shoved his slippers onto his feet and headed downstairs.
Tilly wasn’t ever asked to make breakfast since they always had pastries laying around from Ana’s night time baking. Blaise made a coffee and sat on the barstool and looked out the window with a muffin and his mug.
It was his nineteenth birthday and it felt bittersweet. Last year was a mess but at this time then he would’ve never imagined he was married to Anari Moody and planning to be a father soon. It all felt like a nightmare. One he was desperate to wake up from. But there was no waking up, this was his life now, and he had to make do.
He had a wife he knew little about, he had to be a good father when he didn’t have any example of one growing up. He was really starting from scratch.
Who knew what his nineteens would give him. A child? Death, probable, with what he’s been up to recently.
Blaise heard a shuffle of feet behind him and it could only be one person, “Couldn’t go back to sleep?”
“No.” She huffed angrily and grabbed a muffin, orange juice, and sat next to him.
Nothing else was said for a moment but Blaise could feel her eyes on him. “See something you like?”
“Yes.” She groaned, shoving her head in her hands, “I want coffee so bad, right now.”
“Drink some.” Blaise looked at her like she was crazy, “I’m not sharing.”
“I’m not supposed have caffeine you fucking spoon.” She gave him a look from the corner of her eye.
“Is it a rule?”
“No. Technically I can have some. But I don’t want to risk it.” Ana says, still glaring at his coffee cup.
Blaise sighs and gets up and dumps his coffee in the sink as well as the pot he’d just brewed.
“What’re you doing?” Ana squints her eyes at him.
“Out of sight out of mind. If you can’t have it, neither will I.” He shrugged, sitting back down with a glass of water he’d gotten.
“What happened?” She looked at him suspiciously, “Why are you acting like this?”
“Like what? I’m not acting a certain way.” He shrugged, finishing his muffin.
“You’re chipper, you’re acting nice today. Why?”
“Maybe I’m tired of fighting.” He shrugged.
“Or maybe you’re sick.” She scoots away from him.
“I’m not ill. I’m just thinking that we should try to get along today and in the future.”
Ana didn’t respond, “Why?”
“Well, we’re stuck with each other unless you decide that it's worth killing me and we’re having a child in the near future. So, it might be best if we get along.”
“I’m not unconvinced that you’re ill.” She squinted her eyes at him again before slowly backing out of the room, not turning her back on him, making him laugh.
─TIED TOGETHER─
When Blaise got back home from having lunch with his mother there was no sign of Ana. This birthday lunch with his mom was much different than any other he’d spent with her. No talk about grades or school or quidditch. Instead, he talked about becoming a father, how Ana might be pregnant this very moment, how he had a wife who hated him.
He deserved it— her hate. He was never nice to her in school. He stood behind Draco in school who bullied her friends and he did nothing and that was worse.
Blaise couldn’t tell you the last time he’d cried in his mum’s arms, probably as a child when he scraped his knee. But today he did. He broke.
Happy nineteenth birthday.
Ana came home a couple of hours later, she came back with a bag stuffed with something colorful in her bag.
“You’re back.” Blaise turned to her, away from his book in his hand.
“Yeah.” She took her layers off and put them on the hook in the entryway, she rubbed her hands together while walking over to Blaise. She tried to smooth down her hair after having a hat on but it was probably useless. “I got a couple of things to keep me busy especially with the storm coming up.”
“What’d you get?” Blaise asked, stretching out to rest his arms on the top of the couch.
“Some yarn. I used to knit with my grandma growing up.” She shrugged, pulling out all the materials she got.
“We’re you close with her?” Blaise questioned as Ana sat down a little further down the couch from him. “Your grandma?”
“Yeah. She raised me, lived with her my whole life until like… sixth year, then I moved in with Alastor.” She didn’t look at him while she spoke, just digging in her bag.
“Was it weird in fourth year? With everything.”
“I never really talked to him before, I saw him a couple of times at Christmas. But, I mean, there was no reason for him to talk to me at Hogwarts anyway, I tried but you know…”
Blaise just nodded silently, she was quiet after that, staring into her bag or colors. After a moment she spoke again.
“I miss when my only problem was my uncle being a polyjuiced death eater.”
“That was quite a problem.” Blaise laughed under his breath at her seriousness, she joined in just a second later. “I miss it too. Never thought I’d miss school.”
They sat in silence for a little bit while she unpacked her yarn. Once she was finished Blaise opened his mouth to say something but they heard the roar of the floo and stood quickly, wands ready.
“Alright mates!” Was yelled from the dining room, “I’m ready to celebrate!”
Theo and Pansy came around the corner with Pansy holding a bottle of something and Theo holding a gift.
Anari looked to Blaise to just see him laughing quietly. “I told you not to come.”
“You don’t tell me anything, Zabini. I do what I please.” Pansy waved him off, rounding the couch to hug Ana first.
“How does it feel to finally be at my level, Blaise?” Theo asked him after hugging him and then Anari.
“I feel fine.”
“Blasphemy, being nineteen is fucking incredible.” Theo shook his head.
“Theo, what do you think blasphemy means?” Ana questions.
“He’s just saying shit to say it at this point.” Pansy whispered, “He likes people thinking he knows big words.”
Ana smiled at her words and Theo gasped, clutching his chest. “I heard that, dear wife. I’ll have you know I’m quite smart.”
“Sure but the sorting hat didn’t almost put you in Ravenclaw though, it was Hufflepuff.” Blaise spoke up.
“I told you not to tell anyone, Zabini!”
“You were supposed to be a Hufflepuff?” Ana laughed, “I can see it, honestly.”
“I like your wife better than you at this point, Zabini. I’m returning your gift.”
“Gift?” Anari questioned.
“His birthday gift, finally nineteen.” Theo smiled, plopping himself on the couch.
Ana’s face fell. What an awful fake wife she was that she didn’t know his birthday. “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday.”
“Because I didn’t feel like celebrating this year.” He shrugged, sitting in the arm chair as the rest of the group sat as well.
Today was his birthday and this morning she basically told him she’d be delighted if she was a widow. “I would’ve baked a cake.”
“Again, I didn’t want to celebrate.” Blaise tried to meet her eyes but she didn’t look up. “I don’t know why the hell these two are here, ruining our peaceful evening.”
“Peaceful is overrated.” Theo waved a hand, shushing him.
“We brought drinks!” Pansy said, shaking the bottle a little bit, when both Ana and Blaise opened their mouths she quickly corrected herself, “Not the fun ones but liquid nonetheless.”
“You both do need to feed us dinner.” Theo stated, nodding at the two of them.
Guess this was practice before having the actual baby.
After they’d eaten Draco and Astoria joined them in the living room. After Blaise had opened his presents from the two couples they’d decided to play a game.
Drinking their cider and holding their fingers up Draco asked the first question. “Never have I ever… snuck into a different common room.”
Looking around the room it seemed as if only Ana had. Astoria looked at Ana and gasped, “What the hell are the Ravenclaws doing? I thought you all just stuck to your books.”
“I knew a guy in Hufflepuff…” Ana shrugged, Pansy raised an eyebrow but Ana just tried to move on. “Theo, it’s your turn to ask.”
“Ah– yes, umm… never have I ever cried watching a muggle film.” He gives Draco a pointed look and both him and Blaise put down a finger.
“Not my proudest moment.” Draco mutters.
“What film was it?” Anari questions, looking at the boys.
“Bambi.”
“What’s it about?”
“A stag’s life…” Blaise mumbles and looks up quickly, “Astoria you’re next.”
“Oh, okay. Never have I ever been almost sorted into a different house.” She sent a sweet smile to Theo.
“This feels pointed.” Theo huffed, putting a finger down. Blaise put a finger down as well.
“Zabini?” Pansy raised an eyebrow.
Blaise muttered something under his breath and Ana couldn’t hear it from her spot between Astoria and Pansy. He cleared his throat and spoke again, “Ravenclaw was considered.”
“Shut the hell up!” Theo started cackling, “And you were giving me shit for Hufflepuff!”
“What’s wrong with Ravenclaw?” Ana sent Theo a look with a raised eyebrow.
“Nothing darling, but he gave me shit for years about Hufflepuff. And of course, Slytherin is the superior house.”
“Debatable.” Ana shrugged before thinking about her question. Any of the questions she’d want to know the answer to would be inappropriate and ruin the mood. “Never have I ever lost a bet.”
Draco’s head shoots to Blaise and sees him put a finger down, Theo laughs beside them, body visibly shaking.”What’d we miss?”
“Nothing, absolutely nothing, dear wife.” Theo finally calmed down and turned to Blaise, “Want to explain?”
“The two of them bet that I wouldn’t do something… and I said I would… and I didn’t.”
“That’s all we get?” Astoria raised an eyebrow.
“Yes. That’s all you get and it’s my birthday so you can’t humiliate me.” He sent a pointed look to the guys still laughing next to him.
“Alright… Never have I ever kissed someone who was dating someone.” Pansy being the one to spice it up seemed right. But for some reason Pansy put a finger down along with Draco and Theo and Astoria.
“What the hell?” Ana yelped, “What are you slytherins doing down there? Don’t answer that.”
“Well in my defense she hated her boyfriend.” Pansy shrugged, sipping on her cider.
“It was spin the bottle!” Astoria protested, shaking her head in her hands.
“I have no defense. She was hot.” Theo shrugged.
“Mine was spin the bottle as well…” Draco trailed off, Ana couldn’t help but think he was lying.
Blaise went next, “Never have I ever had meaningless sex.”
That was a question she wasn’t expecting Blaise to ask, she figured he’d bring it back to P-G questions.
To everyone's dismay they all put their fingers down except for Blaise who coughed up a sarcastic, “Sluts.”
“Woah! Nuh uh! You’re just a saint. Although I can say I’m surprised…” Pansy’s eyes slowly moved to Ana who blushed and shrugged sheepishly.
“Hufflepuff…” She muttered, sinking lower into the couch.
“I fall in love with you more and more everyday.” Pansy sighed playfully.
“Alright Draco, give us your best.”
“Never have I ever… said the wrong name while kissing someone.” He crossed his arms and looked at Blaise.
“I hate you. It’s my birthday.” He sighed, “I apologized, I was drunk.”
“Alright, Draco, finish the birthday boy off.” Pansy noticed that Blaise was on his last finger.
“Never have I ever skinny dipped in the black lake.” Draco smirked but Blaise didn’t put down a finger but Ana did.
“I was wearing my pants, idiot.” Blaise laughed before seeing where everyone was looking.
“I think Ravenclaw’s have more fun.” Theo muttered.
“I uh— I don’t really have an explanation.” Ana scratched the back of her neck.
“Something we’ll discuss at girls night.” Astoria sent the blushing girl a wink.
“Moving on… Never have I ever had over five step-dads.” Theo smiled, knowing it would get Blaise out.
Summary: Proposals have been accepted by House Stark, one that will forever change the course of Westerosi history and another proposal is made that drive our Snows to isolation for safety
Warnings: longfic!, obsession, S1 Jon, mention of Bran's accident, propositioning, sexism, classism, bastardphobia, soft Jon, talks of SA, I made up a marriage custom, talks of being on your period
!AGELESS/MINOR BLOGS WILL NOT BE TAGGED!
a/n: I hope you guys like it :)
Series Masterlist
The Prince stared at her in a way that made her feel as if he could see beyond the the light cloak around her shoulders (one that held House Stark's emblem on the clasp) and straight past the satin dress she wore and small clothes.
Straight to a state that only Jon had seen. Only a state that her husband was graced with knowing.
"It is quite a shame, don't you think?" the Prince suddenly said.
"Excuse me?" Y/N blinked, a furrow in her brow.
"From what I've heard, your father poured in all his time, all his coin into grooming you into the perfect Lady", he mused, stepping close to her. "Such a shame he did not legitimize you. You would have made quite the worthy bride with a hefty dowry."
Y/N felt uneasy at this statement. The Prince spoke as if he was disappointed with her illegitimacy.
"I do not question my Lord Father's actions to not legitimize me", she answered, a cold sweat on her brow. "I know how... disappointed my Lady Bloodwright would have been had my father done so."
The Prince hummed for a moment, beginning to circle her.
"Lady Bloodwright is quite the unsightly thing", the Baratheon Prince spoke aloud, "hooked nose, greasy hair. Every bit a Bolton. Same with those siblings: ugly things she pushed out."
Y/N swallowed the saliva in her throat.
"Your Lord Father must have quite happy when your mother delivered you, don't you suppose?"
"I suppose so, your grace", she answered, the Prince waved a hand.
"Joffrey", he commanded, "you may call me Joffrey."
"I believe that would be improper, yo-"
"Your lack of legitimacy is improper."
Y/N felt like meat on a platter, ready to be served.
"Do you suppose the rumors are true?" he suddenly asked.
"O-Of what, your grace?"
"That Bloodwright women have been known to drive men mad with their beauty?"
She felt rooted to her spot, fear in her bones.
Because it was not a stag in front of her, but rather a lion.
"Sister!" Arya shouted, running towards her. "You should have seen me with the bow!"
She never felt relief like she did when Arya ran towards her, her short brown hair billowing in the small brief.
Out of everyone in House Stark, Arya was the only one to call her 'sister', a term that was used amongst nobles to indict the acceptance of their husband's wife into the house.
But as Jon was a bastard, the same was not held for him. Lord Stark would never make Jon a legitimate heir, it would be too much of a threat to Robb's claim to House Stark as he and Robb were born mere moon apart from one another.
"Did you?" Y/N smiled, a teasing grin. "I bet you bested Bran at the bow."
"I'm not sure where Bran is, he must have went climbing", Arya spoke, "c'mon, let me show you."
Y/N looked at the Prince, who scoffed at Arya.
"If you'll excuse me, your Highness", she curtseyed.
Walking to the training grounds with Arya, she listened to the girl chatter about sneaking in training when a familiar servant of House Stark ran towards them just as they reached the ground.
"Lady Arya, Miss Snow!" the servant, Mylissa, cried out. "Come, Lady Catelyn requests it! There's been an accident!"
"What?" Y/N asked, grasping Arya's hand.
"Lord Bran has been in an accident!"
An accident was an understatement, in Y/N's opinion. Bran had fallen from one of the many crumbling towers that littered Winterfell; a fall so high that the Maesters said he will never walk again and were unsure whether he would awaken again. Only his Direwolf was a witness to his terrible fall and Lady Catelyn hadn't left his side since.
They had been praying for Bran's recovery, but the somber cloud that hung over House Stark since and it seemed to only feel worse with Lord Stark's impending departure to King's Landing soon, and taking Sansa and Arya along with him.
Y/N stayed close to Jon, especially after the eyes of the Prince making her uncomfortable. It seems that after that conversation, he seemed to appear everywhere from
She stood beside him as he inspected a sword at the blacksmith stall in Winterfell.
"Looking to trade in the one you have?" she questioned, Jon shook his head.
"No", he answered, "but it doesn't hurt to see what the blacksmiths are producing."
"Especially when it is a gift for your favorite sister?" she teased, Jon looked at her with a small smile.
"Don't let Sansa hear that", Jon joked. "She'd have my head. It's not my fault Arya and I bonded better."
"Your husband is right", a new voice added, she looked over her shoulder. "Sisters have a tendency to have quite the jealous streak."
There, behind them in a slight dischevel manner, stood Jaime Lannister.
"Have you swung your sword yet?" Jaime asked.
"Of course, I have", Jon said.
"At someone."
Jon was silent and she watched as Jaime gave a slight look.
"No, I don't expect you have. After all, these are times of peace. It's a strange thing, the first time you cut a man. You realize we're nothing but sacks of meat and blood with some bone to keep it all standing. Allow me to congratulate you on your marriage."
Jaime glanced at her, a odd look on his face before he held his hand out to Jon. Jon looked cautiously at it before grasping it and in a firm grip, the Lannister squeezed Jon's hand.
"I wish to congratulate you", the Lannister smirked, "on being able to form yourself a clan and giving your future children the chance to hold a honest name."
The Lannister released Jon's hand and turned away before stopping and looking over his shoulder.
"It is quite fortunate you are not ugly like your sisters", Jaime said, "it would have been a shame to your husband to only have to fuck you from behind."
Y/N wrinkled her nose, "Quite fortunate you took your Vow then, isn't it? Else you'd be fucking one of them from behind. I'd say it'd be Rosalind, I believe you knights have deemed her the ugliest."
It seemed her words made the Lion pause for a moment before continuing on his way.
"Quite the kind statement", she mused, "well, as kind as you can get from a Lion."
"Lions are not very well known for being kind", Jon said, "not even to their cubs at times."
It was rare for bastards to be requested from royalty, even if your sire was a royal themself.
Jon found it quite odd to have his presence requested to the Grand Hall and he found it even more odd that when he walked in, he saw his Father and Robb standing near the long banquet table in the hall. His Uncle Benjen sat in a chair and sat in the seat typically reserved for the Lord of Winterfell sat the King, himself, with the Prince and the old Lion himself with Jaime Lannister, himself.
"Jon", Ned spoke, slowly walking towards him.
"Father", Jon greeted, confusion in his tone.
When his father moved to embrace him, he whispered, "do you have any clue why you were summoned?"
"No", Jon whispered back. "Do you?"
"No."
When his father let go, Jon moved to bow and properly greet the King, who nodded for a moment.
Silence fell in the Hall for a strained moment before King Robert finally spoke.
"You must be wondering why you were summoned, Bastard", King Robert spoke, Jon nodded. "As you know, your father has accepted position of becoming my Hand and your brother will be the new Lord of Winterfell."
"Yes", Jon nodded.
"And as for a bastard, there is not much you can add for your family."
Jon sucked in a breath and saw the confused look in his father's eyes.
"I am aware", Jon said, "but my brother reassured me that he'd gladly take my skills in the sword to better serve my House."
Robb nodded, "I look forward to putting my brother's skills to use in our forces."
King Robert paused for a moment before saying, "but that leaves not much for your wife, does it?"
Jon scrunched his eyebrows and tilted his head as he tried to puzzle what was going on.
"Father, please", Prince Joffrey scoffed, "you have to be plain with bastards. The proposal is simple, Lord Bastard. Before we depart, you allow me a night with your wife and to bring her back with me to King's Landing as my mistress, and you will find yourself elevated to that of legitimacy."
It felt as if the world was drained from Jon's body and anger replaced what was drained. Jon saw the surprise on his father and Robb's faces; so they were not privy to the knowledge of this meeting then.
His hands clenched into fists as he stared at the green-eyed Prince who anticipated his answer.
How dare this soft-handed noble come and ask him for a night with his wife!
Jon could see the soft smiles of his wife; a wife he was growing to love and care for, the only other person that understood what it meant to be alone in a home filled with people.
And now, some bastard was coming with the request of taking the only person who saw him? To be his mistress?
Jon clenched his jaw.
"No", Jon rejected, his eyes hard with anger. "She is my wife. And she will stay my wife."
"You do understand the possibilities you'd be giving up, boy?" King Robert asked.
"I do not care for my legitimacy", Jon spat, "not if it came at the expense and dignity of my wife. She will stay by my side, have my children. So unless you wish to invoke the anger of my Lord Father-in law, my king, this request is dead."
Jon saw the hesitation in the king's eyes at the mention of Lord Elias.
"Asking was a common curtesy, bastard", Prince Joffrey spoke, looking at his nails. "Either way, your wife will warm my bed."
"I never partook House Baratheon to covet another man's wife, but perhaps your House is not so different from the Targaryens you rebelled against."
But Jon did not pause to wait for more as he turned on his heel, storming out of the hall with his brother, father and uncle hot on his tail.
Jon led them to one of the rooms in the Great Keep, fuming and feeling more direwolf than man.
"Jon", Ned spoke.
"Don't!" Jon hissed, anger flying. "You heard him, Father. He propositioned me! He asked me to allow him a night with my wife! My wife! And then he asked if he could have her in King's Landing with him. He acts as if my wife is a whore at a brothel, ready to be given to the next customer!"
Ned watched Jon, the Stark fury radiating in the young man as Jon paced the room with clenched fists and flowing anger. It was rare to see Jon blazing with fury and it made Ned note how much Stark blood truly ran in the boy's blood.
"You need to think rationally, brother", Robb tried, "the Prince means to rattle you."
"I think he means more to rattle", Uncle Benjen countered, "do not tell me that none of you have noticed the way he watches the poor lass."
Silence stalled the room.
"Being on the Wall shows you how to be observant and in my three days being here, I've seen a lot", Benjen said, "and Jon has a right to his anger. Be a bastard, he is still a man who has been insulted. The Prince means to make a mistress out of his wife by any means."
"And what do you propose we do, brother?" Ned asked, "what is to stop the Prince from just taking the girl?"
Jon watched his Uncle take a breath.
"Come with me to Castle Black and then to the Wall", Benjen proposed, "the both of you. We'll say you are coming to be for a short season to improve your skills to better serve your House. And as such, your wife will have to join you as is customary for the first two years."
It was true. Westerosi custom for all deemed the first two year of marriage between husband and wife to be important, and as such, they must not part unless during times of war.
"Women are forbidden at the Wall", Jon spoke.
"It is rare but we have had women healers serve for short periods", Benjen said, "Y/N can apprentice under Maester Aemon at Castle Black who has been known to teach others. And if we have permission from the King, himself, no one can question it. Not even Lord Commander Mormont himself."
Jon looked at his Father.
Running the wool brush through her hair, the tangles of the remainder of her day with Arya and archery had made itself known in her long locks. Supper had not yet been called for and Jon had not yet arrived into their room, and she curiously wondered where he could be.
Sansa had mentioned that he had been summoned by the King.
A deep pit of worry filled her belly and she set the brush down, walking to one of the windows of the room and closing the curtains as the sky slowly grew darker.
She went about lighting the candles of the room, lighting the fire to bring warmth and light just as the heavy oak door of the room opened. Looking over her shoulder, a small smile made its way to her lips as she saw Jon.
"I was beginning to wonder where you were", Y/N teased with a smile.
The flint in her hands was placed onto the mantle of the fireplace as she dusted her hands off.
"I was with my father and Robb... uncle Benjen too", Jon said, slowly removing his outer clothes.
Y/N moved to help Jon when she caught his eye.
"Something's wrong", she stated, Jon frowned.
"And what tells you that?"
"You have that look."
"What look?"
"That pout." It was true, in the many moons of her now being here she had come to understand Jon's broodiness. It always began in his eyes, dark and sad before moving to his brows, a slight furrow and down to his lips, a small pout.
"I do not pout", Jon said, embarrassment in his tone and a red flush.
She giggled, "you do. You pout like a little wolf pup."
Y/N moved to softly peck his lips.
"What troubles you, Jon?" Y/N asked, hands resting on his chest. "Was it something the King summoned you for? Sansa told me you were summonded."
Jon brought his hands to hers, caressing them before sighing.
"The King summoned me with... a request", Jon gritted out, his face morphing into a quiet anger. "The Prince requested for me to allow him... a night with you. And for you to become his mistress."
It felt as if a bucket of cold water had been dumped on her and her chest tightened in fear.
"I denied them", Jon continued, staring into her eyes. "But the Prince made it clear that he was to have you one way or another. No matter how much you or I reject them."
It felt as if she couldn't speak.
"W-What do we do?" Y/N stammered, "J-Jon, I don't want to be the Prince's mistress. I want to stay with you."
"You will stay with me", Jon reassured, hands cupping her cheeks and bringing his forehead to hers. "I won't let them touch you."
"How?" she asked, tears feeling wet.
"Uncle Benjen had an idea. It is not the best, I will admit, but it is our only option for now."
Within two days, she and Jon had packed as much as they could to be taken horseback to Castle Black.
Jon helped her onto the saddle before swinging himself behind her. His arms secure around her when they finally begun to all move; a long train of horses and carriages, knights and criminals heading down the same path of leaving Winterfell before forking off into different directions: one South to King's Landing and the other further North.
"You both stay safe", Ned advised, voice thick and eyes unsteady. "Only trust your uncle Benjen and keep yourselves quiet. Don't give anyone any reason to send you back. I'll send a raven as soon as I can."
Ned Stark looked at them with conflict in his eyes.
"Will I be able to raven my mother?" she asked, Ned nodded.
"Don't let her know the true reason", he said, "keep the true reason for your stay close to your hearts. And Jon..."
"Yes?" Jon asked.
"When we meet again... I'll tell you of your mother." And with that, he turned his horse down the southern path.
Traveling with a pack of convicted rapers was not something she wanted, but it was the unfortunate scenario of her current life. Lord Tyrion had joined along with Benjen saying the Lannister man was coming to see the Night's Watch.
"They were given a choice no doubt", Lord Tyrion spoke when they rested and Benjen tied the rapers to a tree. "Castration or the Wall. Most choose the knife."
Lord Tyrion read a book as he spoke to them, his eyes occasionally glancing up at them as he spoke.
"Why do you read so much?" Jon asked.
"Look at me and tell me what you see", he answered, "what you see is a dwarf. If I'd been born a peasant, they might've left me out in the woods to die. Alas, I was born a Lannister of Casterly Rock. Things are expected of me, oh with my father having been the Hand of the King for 20 years."
"Your brother killed that king", Y/N said, Tyrion gave her an amused smile. "Is that why your Father wasn't asked to be the Hand again? Bad luck?"
Tyrion chuckled.
"Perhaps bad luck." Tyrion reached near him and grabbed a large, leather pouch and tossed it to them. "A belly full of wine makes the day better. Especially for you, Lady Snow. Running from my nephew has certainly taken its toll on your mind."
Eventually, they did reach the Wall and a heavy pit settled in her belly as she felt Jon's grip slightly tighten around her.
"Welcome", Benjen said, glancing at them from his horse.
Lord Commander Mormont was rude and crass, she determined. Maybe he was always like that or maybe it the years of being here at Castle Black, and the Wall that made him that way.
Castle Black was hardly a castle. It could be best described as a series of wooden buildings that creaked and whistled with the snowy winds that were colder than in Winterfell.
"She's a woman", Mormont said, pacing in the room, "women like her have no place in the Black."
"A bastard?" Benjen asked.
"She may be a bastard but even I can tell she's a beautiful woman", Mormont answered with a roll of his eyes. "Shame really, your Father could have petitioned you to be legitimized. Would have made any Lord happy."
"Quite fortunate for me then", Y/N retorted, "I've great a many tale in my time at Blood Bay about the horrid wifely duties that my Sisters would go through. Old men that could barely move climbing onto them with a prick that could barely function. But unfortunate for us all: my choices were either go to the Black and the Wall, or allow the Prince to climb on top of me. As you can see, I made a choice."
"I'd watch your mouth, girl."
"You'd watch your mouth around my wife", Jon countered, a hard glare in his eyes.
"She needs you to defend her?" Mormont stated with a smirk.
"Nay, she'd do that herself. Seen her shoot down an elk twenty meters away. I have no doubt she'd do that to any man here."
Mormont stared at them before sneering.
"Do not come running to me if she comes across one of the rapers."
Maester Aemon was old and blind who took a feel of her hands and told her, "your hands, they are mostly soft. Rejoice in that because they won't be much longer."
His hands were old and felt frail yet were calloused along the fingertips and knuckles.
While Jon was busy with the trainees that had taken the Black, she was being schooled by the Maester on herbs and poisons; he made her hold ones that made her fingers sticky and others that left her skin raw and burnt.
"The best way to know these is to feel them", Maester Aemon told her, "better than in a book. Better than listening."
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SYNOPSIS— Schedules are followed, meetings start on time, assistants keep everything running exactly as planned, and your life has been built around one very simple principle: efficiency. The only exception has ever been your son. What begins as a quick stop for Royce slowly introduces you to a world you never intended to become part of…
CW—Single parenthood, emotionally unavailables, workaholic tendencies, mild language, slow burn, accidental feelings (pending), Steve Harrington smiling too much, excessive sexual tension that absolutely does not exist… yet.
AUTHORS NOTE— they put steve harrington on a baseball field and expected me to act normal. bold assumption.
The first thing you noticed was the noise.
Not the loud kind—not sirens or shouting or the constant polished chaos that filled every inch of your normal life—but the layered kind. The kind that settled into the evening air and wrapped around the baseball field like a living thing. Aluminum bats cracking against baseballs. Sneakers scraping over packed dirt. Children laughing too loudly somewhere near the dugout. A whistle blowing twice in the distance while chain-link fences rattled every few seconds from boys throwing themselves against them.
The entire park smelled like fresh-cut grass, dirt, sweat, and summer heat still trapped in the pavement long after the sun had started setting.
You hated it immediately.
Mostly because you were never supposed to be here.
Your evenings ran on precision. Everything in your life did.
Your assistant color-coded your weekly schedule three months in advance. Your meetings were timed down to fifteen-minute intervals. Dinners happened in private restaurants with reservations booked under fake names to avoid unnecessary conversation, and your son’s baseball practices were usually handled seamlessly by Sofia—your nanny of four years—who never once disrupted the careful structure you built around your life.
Except tonight, Sofia had the flu.
Which meant at 6:42 PM, while sitting in the backseat of your Escalade reviewing investment reports on your iPad between calls, your entire evening collapsed with one phone call.
“I’m so sorry,” Sofia had croaked weakly through the speaker. “I tried to wait it out, but I don’t think I can drive.”
You pinched the bridge of your nose immediately.
Outside the tinted window, downtown traffic crawled in thick streams of red brake lights while your driver maneuvered through the city with practiced calm.
“Okay,” you said after a pause, already opening your calendar. “It’s fine. I’ll figure it out.”
But it wasn’t fine.
Nothing about tonight was fine.
Your seven o’clock call had to be moved. Dinner reservations canceled. Tomorrow morning’s presentation still needed revisions, and somewhere between all of that, you now had exactly thirty minutes to cross town and pick your son up from baseball practice yourself.
You couldn’t even remember the last time you’d done that. (First practice was the last pick up). Guilt twisted quietly in your stomach at the thought.
Not because you missed games—you never missed games—but practices were different. Practices happened in the middle of conference calls and board meetings and rushed afternoons where you spent more time signing papers than sitting still long enough to breathe.
Games mattered.
Games were important.
Practices were… harder.
By the time the Escalade pulled into Hawkins Community Park, the sky had turned dusky blue, the last streaks of orange sunlight melting behind the trees surrounding the field. Stadium lights cast bright white beams across the diamond, illuminating drifting clouds of dirt kicked up beneath running cleats.
Your driver barely finished parking before you were already reaching for the door handle.
“Ma’am—”
“I’ve got it.”
The door swung open. Warm evening air hit your skin instantly.
Your heels clicked sharply against pavement as you stepped out of the SUV, one hand already shoving your sunglasses higher onto your head while the other balanced your phone between shoulder and ear.
“No, move the meeting to Thursday,” you said quickly into the phone, irritation sharpening your tone as you crossed the parking lot. “I don’t care if Martin complains about it, he can survive one inconvenience—”
A baseball flew into the fence nearby with a violent clang.
You flinched instinctively.
Children screamed somewhere behind you.
Parents crowded near folding chairs lining the field, some talking amongst themselves while others watched practice with exhausted expressions and paper coffee cups clenched between their hands.
You stood out immediately.
You always did.
Cream silk blouse tucked into tailored black slacks. Gold jewelry catching beneath stadium lights. Designer heels sinking slightly into uneven pavement. Your hair still perfectly styled despite the stress headache building behind your eyes.
Several parents glanced toward you automatically before looking away just as quickly.
You ignored them.
“Call me back once it’s fixed,” you muttered before ending the call abruptly.
The second you looked up, your son spotted you. “Mom!”
The sound of his voice cut through everything else instantly. Your entire expression softened before you could stop it.
He came running toward you across the edge of the field, baseball pants streaked with dirt, cap crooked sideways, face pink from practice and summer heat. His equipment bag dragged behind him awkwardly before he abandoned it entirely in the grass just to reach you faster.
“There’s my handsome boy,” you sighed, finally smiling for what felt like the first time all evening.
He crashed into your side without hesitation, nearly throwing you off balance despite the laugh that escaped you quietly. “What’re you doing here? You’re late,” he informed you dramatically.
“I know,” you said, brushing sweaty curls from his forehead. “I had a horrible day.”
He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Worse than mine?”
“Definitely worse than yours.”
“That’s impossible,” he argued immediately. “Coach made us run laps because Tyler wouldn’t stop throwing sunflower seeds at people.”
You groaned softly.
“Tragic.”
Your son grinned.
The familiar warmth in your chest settled immediately just from looking at him. It always amazed you how quickly he could pull you out of your own head without even trying.
You adjusted his cap absentmindedly, straightening it properly before crouching slightly to inspect him.
“You eat the snacks Vanessa packed?”
“Yes.”
“All of them?”
A pause.
“…Mostly.”
You gave him a look.
He smiled sheepishly.
Before you could continue interrogating him, you reached automatically for his equipment bag abandoned nearby. The oversized thing nearly weighed half as much as he did, the leather straps rough beneath your manicured fingers as you hauled it upright.
“I can carry it,” your son protested weakly.
“You absolutely cannot.”
“You carried it weird.”
You narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m wearing heels on gravel.”
“That sounds like a you problem.”
A laugh sounded nearby.
Low. Warm. Male.
You looked up instantly and there he was. Coach Harrington.
Leaning against the dugout gate like he’d been standing there long enough to witness the entire interaction.
The backward cap pushed dark hair away from his forehead. Grey athletic hoodie sleeves shoved carelessly to his elbows. A whistle hanging loose around his neck while one hand rested lazily against the chain-link fence.
And annoyingly enough—
He was prettier in person. You’d noticed him before, obviously. Every mother had noticed him before. It was nearly impossible not to.
But usually you saw him from a distance during games while juggling phone calls and coffee cups and conversations you barely listened to. You’d never been close enough to actually look at him properly before.
Big mistake.
Because up close, coach Harrington had the kind of face that made prolonged eye contact dangerous.
“First pickup?” he asked casually.
You blinked once.
Then immediately narrowed your eyes.
“Excuse me?”
Your son visibly winced beside you. Apparently Coach Harrington had a death wish.
Steve pushed off the fence slowly, amusement flickering across his face as he walked closer. “I just meant,” he clarified easily, “usually your nanny comes.”
The irritation that already lived beneath your skin all evening sharpened instantly. “You keep track of my childcare arrangements, Coach?”
To your annoyance, he laughed.
Not awkwardly.
Not nervously.
Actually laughed.
And the sound of it was warm enough to make your irritation worse instead of better. “Steve,” he corrected. “And only because your son’s always the last kid to leave practice.”
Your son grinned proudly beside you like this was somehow an accomplishment.
Traitor.
You shifted the heavy equipment bag higher against your shoulder. “Well,” you replied coolly, “sorry to shock everyone, but yes. I’m capable of picking up my own child.”
The words came out sharper than intended. Immediately, something in Steve’s expression changed. The amusement faded first. Then the teasing. Like he realized too late that maybe this conversation wasn’t entirely harmless to you.
“That’s not what I meant,” he said quietly.
And somehow that was worse. Because his tone held no judgment whatsoever.
No pity either.
Just sincerity.
Which caught you off guard enough to irritate you further. You looked away first, smoothing invisible wrinkles from your blouse while your son wandered a few feet away to grab his water bottle.
The field behind Steve buzzed with movement. Kids yelling. Parents gathering chairs. Someone dragging equipment bins across concrete with loud scraping sounds while stadium lights hummed overhead.
“You had him practicing curveballs today?”
Steve glanced toward your son instinctively before nodding.
“He’s getting better.”
You crossed your arms lightly.
“He said Tyler was throwing sunflower seeds.”
“He was,” Steve sighed. “Your son also tackled him afterward.”
You closed your eyes briefly.
“Oh my God.”
“In his defense,” Steve added, clearly fighting another smile, “Tyler deserved it.”
You stared at him flatly for a moment before letting out a long sigh through your nose, already exhausted by the mental image of your son body-checking another child over sunflower seeds.
“Fantastic,” you muttered dryly.
You reached for your son’s water bottle just as your phone vibrated sharply. The sound alone made your shoulders tense again.
Reality returning.
You glanced at the screen immediately.
Three unread emails.
Two missed calls.
One calendar reminder flashing across the display in aggressive red.
8:30 PM — Tokyo investor call.
Right.
You closed your eyes for half a second.
The tiny moment of quiet you’d accidentally stepped into disappeared almost instantly beneath the weight of everything waiting for you once you got back into the car.
“Everything okay?” Steve’s voice came from somewhere behind you.
You looked up automatically.
You slipped your phone back into your purse.
“Fine,” you answered automatically. “Work.”
Steve nodded once like that explained everything. Maybe it did. Your son groaned dramatically the second he heard the word. “Mom has meetings all the time.”
You gave him a look.
“And those meetings pay for your baseball addiction.”
“It’s not an addiction.”
“They’re different bats.”
Steve finally lost the fight against his smile at that. You noticed it accidentally. Not because you were looking at him.
Just because it happened.
Warm amusement softened his expression briefly before he glanced toward your son again. “He’s right, actually.”
You blinked once. “Don’t encourage him.”
“I’m just saying,” Steve replied lightly, “different bats do different things.”
Your son looked vindicated immediately.
“See!”
You stared between both of them for a long second. “This feels targeted.”
Steve laughed quietly under his breath.
Not loud.
Not showy.
Just enough to earn another suspicious glance from you before your phone buzzed again insistently inside your purse.
The moment shattered instantly. You exhaled softly before reaching for your son’s shoulder. “Come on, baby. We have to go.”
A chorus of disappointed groans erupted from him immediately. “But we’re talking to Coach.”
“You can continue your very important bat conversation on Saturday.”
Your son sighed like his life was impossibly difficult before finally grabbing the rest of his things. You turned back toward Steve out of simple politeness more than anything else.
“Thank you,” you said after a pause.
The words surprised both of you slightly.
You weren’t entirely sure why.
Steve straightened a little.
“For what?”
“For not letting my child commit aggravated assault during practice.”
A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth again. “I’ll try my best next time too.”
You shook your head faintly, already stepping backward toward the parking lot.
“Goodnight, Coach.”
“Night,” he replied easily before adding, “See you Saturday.”
Something about the certainty in his tone made you glance at him one last time.
Of course he’d see you Saturday.
You never missed games.
For a brief second, neither of you said anything else. Then your son tugged impatiently at your sleeve. And just like that, the moment disappeared.
You turned away first, heels clicking sharply against pavement as you crossed the parking lot beside your son. The stadium lights glowed against the glossy black exterior of your Escalade while your driver stepped out to open the door the second he saw you approaching.
By the time you slid back into the leather seats, your phone was already ringing again.
You answered before the door fully shut.
“Yes,” you said immediately, exhaustion slipping back into your voice like it had never left. “I’m on my way home now.”
Outside the tinted windows, the baseball field slowly disappeared behind you as the SUV pulled away from the curb.
You looked back only once.
Just briefly.
Long enough to see Coach Harrington still standing near the dugout beneath the bright stadium lights while boys continued running circles around him.
Then traffic swallowed the view completely.
Saturday mornings at Hawkins Community Park looked entirely different from weekday practices.
Weekday practices were rushed.
Parents arrived late carrying coffees and work bags, children sprinted across pavement while trying to finish homework in backseats, and the entire field usually carried the exhausted atmosphere of people squeezing baseball into lives already overflowing with other obligations.
Game days, however, were events.
The parking lot buzzed before eight in the morning, SUVs and luxury sedans slowly pulling into crooked rows while little boys in oversized baseball pants ran between cars with gloves already on their hands. Folding chairs unfolded with snapping sounds across the bleachers. Portable speakers somewhere near the concession stand played classic rock loud enough to echo through the surrounding trees while the smell of coffee, sunscreen, fresh-cut grass, and dirt lingered thickly in the warm summer air.
The entire place felt alive before the game even started.
Your Escalade rolled slowly into the crowded parking lot just as sunlight began spilling fully over the field. Golden morning light reflected sharply against the windshield while your driver maneuvered carefully past parents carrying coolers and equipment bags across cracked pavement. Baseballs smacked rhythmically into leather gloves somewhere nearby, the steady sound blending into the endless chorus of whistles, laughter, and distant yelling already consuming the park.
You sat in the backseat with one leg crossed neatly over the other, sunglasses perched atop your head while scrolling through emails on your phone.
Three new investor updates.
One missed call from your assistant.
Two schedule changes for Monday.
None of which you cared about at the moment. Because the second the baseball field came into view, your son practically launched himself forward in his seat. “We’re early,” he announced excitedly.
“We’re always early for games,” you corrected absentmindedly.
“That’s because you’re scary.”
You looked up slowly over the top of your sunglasses.“Excuse me?”
Your son grinned shamelessly. “You yell if we’re late.”
“I do not yell.”
“You threatened to fire Greg last time.”
From the driver’s seat, Greg cleared his throat carefully.
“You said,” your son continued dramatically, “‘If we miss warmups because of traffic, I’m driving this car into the ocean myself.’”
You stared at him for a long moment. Then sighed.“…That feels slightly out of context.”
Greg pulled smoothly into an open parking spot near the edge of the field before stepping out immediately to open your door.
Warm morning air wrapped around you the second your heels touched pavement.
The weather was perfect already. Bright sunlight filtered through towering trees surrounding the park, casting shifting patterns of gold across parked cars and crowded walkways. Somewhere nearby, fresh coffee brewed from a small concession cart while the scent drifted through the air alongside grass and summer heat warming the concrete.
Your son barely waited for the door to fully open before climbing out beside you. “Can I go?” he asked quickly, already bouncing with energy.
You adjusted your sunglasses properly over your eyes before smoothing a hand down the side of your dress automatically.
The black fabric hugged every curve cleanly, simple enough to appear effortless while still looking far more expensive than anything appropriate for a little league baseball game. Your heels clicked softly against pavement as sunlight caught the gold jewelry resting against your skin, glossy hair moving lightly with the breeze while Greg retrieved your son’s equipment bag from the trunk.
“You stretch first,” you reminded him immediately.
“I know.”
“And hydrate.”
“I know.”
“And if I see you climbing fences again—”
“I KNOW.”
You smiled despite yourself. “Go.”
Your son sprinted off immediately toward the field, cleats hitting pavement loudly while he yelled one of his teammate’s names across the parking lot.
The second he disappeared toward the dugout area, silence settled around you almost instantly.
Not real silence.
Just temporary stillness.
You slipped your purse higher onto your shoulder before leaning lightly against the side of the Escalade, taking a slow sip from the iced coffee Greg handed you moments later.
Around you, parents continued arriving steadily.
Luxury cars.
Minivans.
Children darting between them endlessly. You recognized most faces by now even if you rarely spoke to anyone longer than necessary.
Which was why the sound of your name immediately made your shoulders tense slightly.
“Well, there’s my favorite mystery woman.”
You closed your eyes briefly behind your sunglasses before turning toward the voice.
Daniel Mercer approached with the kind of confidence that only existed in wealthy men who had never once been told no loudly enough.
Expensive watch.
Expensive sunglasses.
Perfectly styled hair despite the humidity already building outside.
His son went to school with yours. Their baseball team overlapped. Their social circles occasionally collided at charity events and private school functions you attended mostly out of obligation.
You knew exactly who Daniel was.
Which unfortunately meant you also knew he thought he was charming. “Daniel,” you acknowledged politely.
His grin widened immediately like he’d accomplished something. “I was beginning to think you only existed at games.”
“That would probably make my accountant very nervous.”
He laughed louder than necessary. You took another sip of coffee instead of encouraging the conversation further.
Daniel stepped closer anyway. “You know,” he said casually, glancing toward the field before looking back at you, “I invited you to dinner three times last month.”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“And I said no three times last month.”
His smile somehow remained intact.
Cocky men always fascinated you slightly in the way reality television did. Deeply embarrassing yet impossible not to observe.
“I still think you’ll change your mind eventually.”
You lowered your sunglasses just enough to look at him properly.“That level of confidence should honestly concern you.”
Daniel laughed again.
“See, that’s exactly why I like you.”
You sighed softly through your nose.
Around you, more parents filtered toward the field carrying folding chairs and oversized tote bags while children sprinted toward warmups. The metallic sound of baseball bats cracking against practice balls echoed rhythmically through the park while coaches shouted instructions across the field.
You looked toward the dugout automatically, immediately spotting your son among the crowd of boys already gathered near the fence.
Then—
A familiar car turned into the parking lot. Your attention shifted before you could stop it.
An older BMW rolled slowly through the crowded rows before pausing near your Escalade. The paint gleamed darkly beneath sunlight despite the layer of dust coating the lower half from what looked like years of baseball fields and back roads.
You recognized the driver instantly.
Coach Harrington.
Steve maneuvered into the empty spot directly beside you with casual ease before cutting the engine. Music still played faintly through the open windows for a second before disappearing completely when he shut the car off.
Daniel followed your gaze.
“Oh,” he muttered. “Baseball Ken arrived.”
You nearly smiled.
Almost.
Steve stepped out moments later wearing backwards cap, and sunglasses hanging from the collar of his shirt. One duffel bag rested over his shoulder while another equipment case sat tucked beneath his arm.
He looked annoyingly natural carrying all of it. Like he belonged here in a way most people didn’t.
Steve glanced toward you automatically while shutting the car door.
Then toward Daniel.
Something unreadable crossed his face briefly before disappearing just as quickly. “Morning,” he called casually.
Daniel nodded once.
“Harrington.”
You noticed immediately that Daniel used the same tone wealthy businessmen used with valets they considered too friendly. Steve noticed too. The difference was that Steve looked entirely unaffected by it.
You pushed yourself lightly away from the Escalade.“Coach.”
Steve’s mouth twitched faintly.
Daniel lingered another second like he wanted the conversation to continue, but the second your body turned slightly toward Steve instead of him, the dismissal became obvious enough that even he picked up on it.
“Well,” Daniel sighed dramatically, stepping backward, “I’ll continue being rejected somewhere else.”
“That seems healthiest,” you replied smoothly.
Steve looked down immediately after that like he was hiding a laugh.Daniel pointed toward you accusingly before finally walking away toward the opposite side of the field.
The second he disappeared into the crowd, the atmosphere shifted strangely quieter around you.
Not awkward. Just calmer.
Steve adjusted the duffel bag higher onto his shoulder before glancing toward the field.
“You’re early.”
You took another sip of coffee casually.
“It’s a game,” you answered. “I’m always early.”
Steve looked at you then not long enough to feel strange. Just long enough.“I know,” he replied simply.
Before you could respond, another wave of parents entered the parking lot loudly, several women immediately calling your name the second they spotted you standing beside Steve’s car.
“There she is!”
Rachel approached first carrying an iced latte the size of her head while balancing an enormous designer tote bag against her hip. Amanda followed closely behind her, sunglasses perched perfectly atop glossy blonde hair while two other mothers trailed after them mid-conversation.
The second they arrived, Steve took the social cue immediately.
“I should probably rescue the field before ten-year-olds start setting things on fire,” he said lightly.
Rachel gasped dramatically.
“Coach Harrington,” she sighed. “You wound me.”
Steve grinned briefly before beginning to walk backward toward the dugout.
“Morning, ladies.”
Amanda smiled a little too brightly.
“Morning, Coach.”
You noticed it.
Mostly because it was impossible not to. Steve disappeared toward the field moments later while Rachel immediately looped her arm through yours.
“Okay,” she whispered loudly, “why were you standing alone with two attractive men at eight in the morning?”
You began walking toward the bleachers with them slowly. “One was asking me out,” you replied flatly. “The other coaches my child.”
Rachel looked scandalized. “God gives his hardest battles to his prettiest soldiers.”
Amanda laughed while adjusting her sunglasses.“I’m serious, though,” Rachel continued. “Coach Harrington is unfairly attractive for a children’s baseball coach.”
“He wears those fitted baseball pants on purpose,” another mom added immediately.
“He absolutely knows what he’s doing.”
You tuned most of it out automatically Not because you weren’t listening Because your attention kept drifting elsewhere.
Toward the field.
Toward your son already stretching near the dugout while Steve walked between groups of boys checking equipment and adjusting caps. The energy around him felt entirely different from the parking lot version of himself. Faster. Focused. Easy. Comfortable.
You settled into your usual seat near the center of the bleachers while conversations continued around you about husbands, vacations, school admissions, and increasingly inappropriate commentary about Coach Harrington’s arms.
You barely participated.
Your eyes stayed on the field instead.
One second your son stood near the dugout bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet while tugging repeatedly at the strap of his batting glove.
The next—
He found you in the stands.
And immediately settled.
His shoulders loosened first. Then the restless pacing stopped. Even from halfway across the field, you could tell the tight anxious energy that usually clung to him before games had eased almost instantly.
Beside you, Rachel continued talking about something involving private schools and a teacher scandal that apparently consumed half the parent group chat.
You barely heard a word of it.
Because your attention stayed fixed on the field.
On your son.
On the way he absentmindedly adjusted his cap before finally jogging toward Steve with noticeably more confidence than he’d had thirty seconds earlier.
And apparently— You weren’t the only person who noticed.
Steve glanced toward the bleachers briefly after your son reached him.
Not directly at you.
Just toward the stands in general.
But his eyes lingered for half a second longer once he spotted you sitting there.
Then he looked back down at your son immediately, crouching slightly in front of him while fixing the strap of his batting glove with practiced hands.
The gesture itself was simple.
Small.
Your son talked animatedly while Steve listened with the kind of attention children always seemed to gravitate toward instinctively. Steve nodded seriously through whatever dramatic story was currently being told before holding out his fist toward your son.
Your son grinned immediately.
Then completed some ridiculously complicated handshake involving finger guns, two fist bumps, and an aggressive shoulder tap that nearly sent him stumbling backward.
The entire thing lasted maybe five seconds.
Still— You found yourself staring.
“Oh my God,” Amanda sighed beside you suddenly. “That’s actually adorable.”
You blinked once before looking away from the field.
“What is?”
Rachel pointed downward dramatically.
“Coach Harrington basically adopting every child on this team.”
Another mother laughed.
“No seriously, my son cried for twenty minutes when he missed one practice because apparently Coach Steve makes orange slices ‘better than mom does.’”
Rachel clutched her chest theatrically.
“I would actually fold if a man was good with children.”
Amanda hummed in agreement while watching the field openly. “He’s ridiculously attentive.”
You took a slow sip of coffee instead of responding. Below, Steve stood again while your son adjusted his batting gloves proudly like he’d just been knighted.
Then— Your son looked toward the stands again.
Straight toward you.
And without thinking, you lifted your hand slightly.
Just enough.
His face lit up immediately before he turned back toward the field. The reaction happened so fast it almost hurt.
Beside you, Rachel smiled softly.
“He really loves that you come to every game.”
You kept your eyes forward.
“I should hope so. I pay for the entire baseball obsession.”
Rachel laughed quietly, but her expression stayed gentler than before. “No, I mean it,” she said. “He talks about it constantly.”
The words settled somewhere uncomfortable beneath your ribs. Because the thing was—
You knew.
You knew your son watched the stands for you.
You knew he checked for your car before games started if you didn’t ride with him.
You knew he played differently once he realized you were staying.
That was why you never missed games.
No matter how impossible your schedule became.
No matter how exhausted you were.
Some things mattered more.
The loud metallic crack of a bat split across the field suddenly as warmups officially began.
Players scattered quickly across positions while coaches shouted instructions over one another. Dust kicked into the sunlight beneath moving cleats while whistles echoed sharply through the park.
Steve moved easily through all of it.
Calling plays.
Fixing stances.
Throwing batting practice.
And annoyingly enough—
He was good at it.
Not performatively enthusiastic the way some coaches became around parents.
Actually good.
Patient without being soft.
Encouraging without sounding fake.
Focused enough that the boys clearly respected him instead of just liking him.
You watched him correct one player’s grip before immediately jogging toward another kid who looked close to tears over something near third base.
Within thirty seconds, the child was laughing again. You frowned faintly behind your sunglasses.
“That man’s gonna get married by the end of the season,” Amanda announced matter-of-factly.
Rachel nodded immediately.
“Oh, absolutely. Women are probably already hunting him for sport.”
You glanced toward Amanda briefly. She looked entirely too interested in that possibility.
Interesting.
Before the conversation could continue further, the umpire called both teams toward the field loudly enough to cut through the noise surrounding the stands.
Parents shifted immediately, conversations pausing while chairs creaked and coolers opened around the bleachers.
Game time.
Your son jogged toward his position before looking toward the stands one final time.
Again—
The second he saw you watching, he smiled. And for reasons you couldn’t entirely explain, your chest tightened all over again.
The game itself started messy.
Little league baseball rarely looked polished for longer than thirty consecutive seconds, and within the first inning alone:
one child tripped over second base,
another forgot which direction to run,
and Tyler somehow managed to launch his helmet directly into the dugout fence hard enough to make half the parents flinch.
Rachel nearly cried laughing beside you
Meanwhile, you stayed locked onto the field with surprising intensity.
Every pitch.
Every stance adjustment.
Every missed catch.
You noticed all of it.
Which was exactly why, halfway through the second inning, your brows slowly pulled together beneath your sunglasses.
Steve shifted Tyler farther left again.
Too far.
Your eyes narrowed slightly.
Three pitches later, exactly what you expected happened. A fast ground ball shot sharply toward left field. Tyler missed it completely. The opposing team scored immediately.
A frustrated groan rippled through the stands while Tyler looked devastated near the outfield.
You sat forward automatically.
“No,” you muttered under your breath.
Rachel glanced sideways.
“What?”
“He shifted him too early.”
The mom beside her blinked.
“…What?”
You kept watching the field carefully.
“Tyler panics under pressure,” you explained absentmindedly. “His reaction time drops if you pull him left too fast.”
Rachel stared at you.
“Aren’t you, like… in finance?”
You ignored her completely.
Below, Steve rubbed a hand across the back of his neck while glancing toward the outfield with obvious frustration.
Then his eyes lifted toward the stands briefly.
Toward you.
And somehow—
You knew immediately he realized you’d noticed the mistake too.
Interesting.
The inning ended a few minutes later with another round of shouting, whistles, and scattered applause while players switched positions.
Before you fully thought it through, you stood.
Rachel blinked up at you.
“Where are you going?”
You slid your sunglasses higher onto your head.
“To speak to Coach Harrington before he destroys Tyler psychologically.”
“You can’t just say things like that and walk away,” Rachel called after you while you descended the bleachers.
But you were already crossing toward the dugout.
The heat hit harder the second you stepped off the bleachers.
Sunlight reflected sharply off aluminum seating and chain-link fences, The kids shouted over one another near the benches, baseballs cracked violently against gloves somewhere behind the batting cages, and the scent of grass, sweat, sunscreen, and dusty infield dirt hung thickly in the air.
The entire field buzzed with restless movement.
You moved through it untouched.
Parents instinctively shifted aside as you crossed past the front row of bleachers, black dress moving lightly against your legs while your sunglasses caught flashes of sunlight with every step. A few fathers looked up automatically when you passed. One nearly stopped mid-conversation entirely before his wife smacked his arm hard enough to snap his attention back forward.
You noticed. You simply didn’t care. Your attention stayed fixed on the dugout instead.
Steve stood near the fence talking to one of the assistant coaches while absently rolling a baseball between his palms. Sweat darkened the collar of his shirt slightly beneath the morning heat, backwards cap casting shadows across his face while sunlight cut sharply across the exposed line of his jaw.
The second he noticed you approaching, he frowned slightly.
Not annoyed.
Surprised.
Like he genuinely hadn’t expected you to leave the stands.
You stopped beside the dugout fence just as another boy sprinted past carrying helmets nearly bigger than his torso.
“Coach.”
Steve turned fully toward you.
Even up close, he still carried that same relaxed energy you noticed during practice. Nothing about him felt rushed despite the chaos unfolding around him. Parents yelled from the stands, children nearly crashed into equipment bins beside him, and someone on the opposite field blew a whistle loud enough to echo through the entire park.
Steve barely reacted to any of it.
“You abandoning the bleachers already?” he asked lightly.
Your eyes flicked briefly toward Tyler standing miserably near the bench while pretending not to look upset.
“You shifted him too early.”
Steve blinked once.
Then again.
“…Excuse me?”
You folded your sunglasses atop your head fully now, finally looking at him directly without the dark lenses between you.
“Tyler,” you repeated calmly. “You shifted him left before he settled. He panics under pressure and overcorrects his glove positioning.”
For the first time since meeting him—
Steve genuinely looked caught off guard.
Not dramatically.
Just enough that it showed.
Around you, boys continued rushing in and out of the dugout while another coach shouted batting orders toward the field. Somewhere behind the bleachers, a parent dropped an entire cooler hard enough to make several people turn.
Neither of you moved.
Steve stared at you for another second before glancing instinctively toward the outfield.
Then back at you.
“…How do you know that?”
You looked almost confused by the question. “My son’s been playing baseball since he was six.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
You crossed your arms lightly. “I watch games.”
“You watch games,” Steve repeated slowly.
“Yes?”
He let out a short laugh under his breath, shaking his head once like he was trying to reorganize information inside his brain.
“No offense,” he admitted, “but I thought you were one of those parents who only paid attention when their kid was batting.”
The comment should have irritated you.
Strangely—
It didn’t.
“Interesting assumption,” you replied smoothly.
Steve winced immediately. “Okay, yeah, that sounded worse out loud.”
“A little.”
He rubbed the back of his neck briefly before looking toward the field again.
“But you actually know what you’re talking about.”
You raised an eyebrow. “You sound surprised.”
“I am surprised.”
“You shouldn’t be.”
Steve looked back at you then.
And for a brief moment, something shifted slightly in his expression.
Not attraction.
Not yet.
Recognition, maybe.
Like he was seeing you clearly for the first time instead of just observing the polished surface everyone else reacted to first.
The moment stretched only a second before one of the boys yelled loudly from inside the dugout. “Coach! Tyler said Carter picks his nose in center field!”
Steve closed his eyes briefly.
“Oh my God.”
Another kid immediately shouted:
“HE DOES.”
“I DO NOT!”
Chaos erupted instantly.
You watched Steve pinch the bridge of his nose like a man fighting for survival.
Then he sighed heavily before pointing toward the bench.
“Everybody sit down”
The boys obeyed surprisingly fast.
You almost smiled.
Almost.
Steve turned back toward you afterward, exhaustion and amusement mixing together across his face.
“You were saying?” he asked.
You glanced toward Tyler again.
“He watches everyone else too much,” you explained. “That’s why he gets nervous.”
Steve followed your line of sight immediately.
“Tyler?”
You nodded once.
“He starts overthinking if he notices people reacting around him. Especially during games.”
Steve stayed quiet for a second.
Then:
“That’s… actually exactly what happened.”
“Mm.”
“You figured that out from the stands?”
You gave him a look.
“My entire job is observing people before they ruin million-dollar deals.”
Steve laughed quietly at that.
Not loudly.
Not performatively.
Just genuine enough to soften the edges of his expression again.
The sound caught you off guard slightly.
Which irritated you immediately. “You know,” he said after a second, leaning one arm casually against the dugout fence, “you’re very different during games.”
Your eyes narrowed slightly.
“That sounds ominous.”
“No, I mean—” Steve stopped himself briefly. “At practice you looked like you wanted to murder someone.”
“I probably did.”
“But here…” His gaze drifted toward the field where your son laughed at something near first base. “You actually relax.”
You looked away first.
Toward your son.
Because unfortunately, Steve wasn’t entirely wrong.
You knew he’d remember your absence longer than he’d remember any missed school pickup or late-night work call.
So yes.
You showed up.
Every single time.
“That obvious?” you asked eventually.
Steve shrugged lightly.
Only if you’re paying attention.”
Something about the answer lingered strangely between you.
The noise around the dugout swelled again as the next inning prepared to start. Cleats scraped against dirt nearby while parents applauded loudly from the stands after another team scored on the opposite field.
Then your son suddenly appeared beside Steve out of nowhere.
“Coach, am I batting after Carter?”
Steve looked down immediately. “You’re up third.”
Your son nodded seriously before finally noticing you standing there.
“Mom?”
“You’re dropping your shoulder again,” you informed him instantly.
His face fell.
“I fixed it.”
“You fixed it badly.”
Steve made a choking sound beside him like he nearly laughed. Your son pointed accusingly between both of you. “See? This is why I have issues.”
You stared at him flatly. “You’re nine.”
“And suffering.”
Steve fully laughed this time.
Warm and unguarded enough that several boys immediately looked toward him curiously afterward. Your son grinned proudly like he’d accomplished something.
Then Steve crouched slightly beside him again, adjusting the strap of his batting glove automatically before tapping twice against the side of his helmet.
“Relax your shoulder,” Steve reminded him. “You’ll hit better.”
Your son nodded.
Then—
without hesitation—
He looked toward you next Like he needed confirmation from both of you. The realization landed quietly.
Subtly.
But hard enough that you felt it anyway. You and Steve noticed it at the exact same time because Steve glanced upward briefly afterward straight at you. And suddenly the space between both of you felt strangely smaller than before.
Dangerously familiar.
You broke eye contact first.
“Go warm up,” you told your son smoothly.
He sprinted away immediately.
The second he disappeared toward the field again, silence settled awkwardly for the first time all morning. Not uncomfortable. Just aware.
Steve stood slowly again before clearing his throat lightly.
“So,” he said carefully, “you secretly understanding baseball was apparently not on my bingo card today.” You adjusted the strap of your purse higher onto your shoulder.
“And yet here we are.”
Steve smiled faintly.
And somewhere behind you, Rachel practically materialized out of thin air beside the dugout fence. “There you are,” she announced dramatically. “We thought Coach Harrington kidnapped you.”
You looked at her blankly. “Unfortunately, no.”
Rachel ignored that entirely before looking between both of you suspiciously. “…Why do you two suddenly look like divorced parents discussing custody arrangements?”
Steve nearly choked. You closed your eyes briefly. And for the first time that morning—
You laughed.
The laugh escaped before you could stop it.
Soft at first.
Then fuller the longer Rachel continued grinning proudly between both of you like she’d just personally uncovered the world’s greatest secret. The sound felt unfamiliar leaving your chest so unexpectedly, light enough that it almost startled you once you realized it was happening. Because you didn’t laugh like that often anymore.
Not at work.
Not at charity events.
Not during the carefully structured version of your life that usually operated down to the minute.
Yet somehow, standing beside a dusty little league dugout beneath aggressive summer sunlight, it slipped out naturally.
Steve looked equally surprised by it. You noticed immediately. His expression shifted for half a second, eyes narrowing slightly like he was trying to process the sound before the corner of his mouth pulled upward again almost involuntarily.
Rachel pointed between both of you dramatically. “Oh, that’s interesting.”
You sighed instantly. “Rachel.”
“No, no,” she continued, fully ignoring you now. “That was a real laugh. You usually laugh like you’re being held hostage socially.”
Steve looked down immediately, shoulders shaking slightly while he unsuccessfully tried hiding another smile. You stared at Rachel flatly.
“You’re exhausting.”
“And yet you keep sitting next to me every Saturday.”
Before you could answer, the sharp metallic sound of a bat cracking against a baseball split violently across the field. Parents erupted into applause almost instantly.
You turned automatically toward the game just in time to see your son sprinting toward second base while dirt kicked wildly beneath his cleats. His helmet sat slightly crooked from running too hard, arms pumping aggressively while the boys in the dugout exploded into shouting loud enough to echo through the entire park.
The entire atmosphere changed immediately. Parents rose from bleachers. Kids screamed over one another. Coaches yelled directions across the field. Your son slid hard into second base with enough force to send dust exploding around him in a golden cloud beneath the sunlight.
Safe.
You exhaled before realizing you’d been holding your breath. Beside you, Steve grinned openly now while clapping once against the dugout fence. “That’s my guy!”
Your son looked toward the stands immediately after standing. Searching. The second he spotted you watching, he pointed toward second base proudly like you somehow could’ve missed it.
Your chest tightened instantly.
You lifted your hand slightly in acknowledgment again while trying very hard not to smile too obviously. Rachel noticed anyway.
“Oh, she’s proud proud.”
“I’m literally just sitting here.”
“You almost smiled.”
“I did smile.”
“That’s worse somehow.”
Steve laughed quietly beside you again before calling another instruction toward the field.
The sound blended strangely well into the noise surrounding the game. Baseballs smacking into gloves. Cleats scraping dirt. Aluminum bleachers creaking every time someone stood too quickly. Somewhere behind the concession stand, a child cried dramatically over spilled nachos while music played faintly through blown-out speakers attached to one of the snack carts.
The entire morning felt warm. Bright. Loud in a way that somehow still relaxed you. Which was unusual enough on its own. You normally hated environments like this.
Too crowded.
Too chaotic.
Too many unnecessary conversations happening at once. Yet somehow baseball games never bothered you the same way.
Maybe because this mattered.
Your son rounded third base moments later while parents shouted encouragement from every direction. Steve stepped closer to the foul line instinctively, gesturing toward home while your son sprinted harder beneath the sunlight.
Safe again.
The dugout exploded.
Little boys nearly tackled him the second he reached the bench while Steve grabbed the back of his helmet briefly, shaking him once with obvious approval before ruffling his hair hard enough to make your son groan dramatically.
You watched the interaction quietly.
Then realized—
You were smiling.
Actually smiling.
The realization irritated you enough that you immediately reached for your coffee again despite it being nearly empty.
Dangerous.
Rachel leaned closer instantly.
“Oh, you like him.”
You almost inhaled coffee directly into your lungs.
“What?”
Rachel looked unbearably pleased with herself.
“You’re smiling at Coach Harrington.”
“I’m smiling at my son scoring.”
“Mhm.”
“You need hobbies.”
“I have hobbies,” Rachel argued immediately. “This is one of them.”
You rolled your eyes before finally turning away from the field and beginning the walk back toward the bleachers.
Rachel followed beside you still grinning while Amanda remained seated near your usual spot, sunglasses pushed atop her head while openly watching Steve down near the dugout.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
The second you sat back down, Amanda looked toward you immediately. “What were you talking about down there?”
“My son”
Rachel snorted beside you.
Amanda ignored her.
“You talked to him for almost ten minutes.”
You uncrossed your legs calmly before setting your sunglasses beside your bag. “And?”
Amanda hesitated briefly.
Like she didn’t fully know how to phrase the question without sounding obvious.
“You just don’t really seem like the type to… mingle.”
Rachel burst into laughter so abruptly several parents turned toward your section of the bleachers. “Oh my God,” she wheezed. “That was the nicest way anyone’s ever called her emotionally unavailable.”
You stared forward blankly. “I hate all of you.”
“No you don’t,” Rachel replied immediately.
Unfortunately—
She was probably right.
Your attention drifted back toward the field again before the conversation could continue. Steve stood near the dugout speaking with one of the assistant coaches now, one hand resting against his hip while sunlight caught against the side of his face sharply enough that several of the moms nearby visibly lost focus mid-conversation.
You understood it objectively.
He was attractive.
Very attractive.
The kind of attractive that became worse the longer someone interacted with him because his personality unfortunately matched the face. Warm. Easygoing. Attentive without seeming performative about it.
Annoying, honestly.
But still—
Nothing about your interest in him extended beyond casual observation.
You were not one of these women.
You didn’t sit around fantasizing about younger baseball coaches because they smiled at children and wore fitted athletic clothes. You barely had time to sleep properly most weeks. The last thing you needed was another complication.
Especially not one attached to your son’s baseball team.
Still—
Your eyes found Steve again anyway. This time, he glanced toward the stands at the exact same moment.
And for a brief second—
You both paused.
Just long enough to register mutual recognition before Steve looked away again almost immediately to continue talking with the assistant coach.
Yet something about the interaction lingered.
Annoyingly so.
You sat with one leg crossed neatly over the other, sunglasses back in place while absently tracing condensation along the side of your iced coffee cup. Around you, the mothers continued talking endlessly about school enrollment, summer trips, and increasingly inappropriate commentary about Coach Harrington.
Mostly Coach Harrington.
“…I’m just saying,” Rachel continued while stealing fries from someone else’s tray without permission, “if a man can coach children without visibly wanting to die, that automatically raises him two points.”
“And have you noticed he remembers every single kid’s favorite snacks?”
You looked toward the field automatically before you could stop yourself.
Sure enough—
Steve stood near the dugout passing out orange slices while listening to three different boys talk over one another simultaneously. He somehow managed to answer all of them correctly while tightening somebody’s catcher gear and reminding another player not to put sunflower seeds inside his sock again.
The entire thing looked exhausting.
Yet Steve handled it with irritating ease.
Amanda sighed.
“That level of patience should honestly be studied.”
“Seriously,” another woman added. “Most coaches scream at children by the second inning.”
Rachel pointed toward Steve.
You looked toward the field again because your son stepped up to bat again.
The second he adjusted his stance near home plate, your full attention sharpened automatically. Everything else around you blurred almost instantly beneath the familiar wave of concentration that always settled over you during his at-bats.
The chatter.
The crowd.
The heat.
Gone.
Your son tightened his grip on the bat while Steve stood near third base giving small hand signals only the boys seemed capable of understanding.
Then—
Your son glanced toward the stands.
Searching again.
The second he spotted you sitting there, he straightened subtly.
Ready.
Beside you, Rachel noticed immediately.
“He does that every time.”
Your eyes stayed on the field.
“I know.”
“He literally won’t bat until he finds you first.”
The pitch came fast.
Your son swung immediately—
Crack.
The sound split across the field sharply enough that several parents stood before the ball even landed.
A line drive.
Straight into center field.
The bleachers erupted around you.
Your son sprinted toward first while dirt exploded beneath his cleats, helmet bouncing dangerously with every step while Steve shouted something encouraging loud enough to carry across the field.
Your son rounded first successfully before finally slowing near second, breathing hard while grinning so widely it was visible from the stands.
Then—
of course—
He looked toward you again. Your heart nearly folded in on itself. You lifted both hands this time in applause while trying to maintain some level of composure beneath the growing heat. Your son practically vibrated with excitement afterward. Steve laughed openly near the baseline before pointing toward second and yelling:
“Stay focused, superstar!”
The grin on your son’s face somehow widened even more.
And annoyingly enough—
Seeing Steve encourage him affected you too.
Not romantically. But emotionally in a way that felt increasingly difficult to ignore.
Because Steve cared. Not performatively. Not because parents were watching. Genuinely. He remembered which kids got nervous before batting. Which ones needed encouragement. Which ones responded better to joking instead of pressure.
And your son—
Your son adored him.
“You know what the real problem is?”
Rachel looked intrigued immediately.
“What?”
“He’s emotionally competent.”
Several women groaned dramatically in agreement.
“THAT’S what makes him dangerous,” Amanda continued.
By the final inning, the entire field carried that warm, exhausted atmosphere only little league games seemed capable of creating.
The sun hung lower now, softer gold spilling across the park while long shadows stretched over the infield dirt and aluminum bleachers. Empty coffee cups rolled lazily beneath seats whenever the wind picked up. Parents looked sun-drunk and overheated, children coated in sweat and dust while the snack stand ran almost entirely out of pretzels and bottled water.
Even the noise had changed.
Earlier, the park buzzed with sharp excitement and chaotic energy.
Now everything sounded slightly slower. Claps instead of screams. Tired laughter drifting across the stands. Coaches speaking louder because half the boys had clearly stopped listening thirty minutes ago.
You sat forward slightly as the final batter stepped up to the plate, sunglasses pushed atop your head while your son waited near second base chewing aggressively on bubblegum like the outcome of the game personally impacted the stock market.
Rachel fanned herself dramatically beside you with a folded score sheet.
“If one more child screams directly into my ear,” she announced, “I’m suing this entire league.”
“You say that every week.”
“And every week I mean it more.”
Below, Steve paced near the foul line while talking animatedly with one of the assistant coaches. The late afternoon sunlight caught against the sweat shining lightly along his arms while he gestured toward the field with obvious focus, baseball tucked beneath one hand.
Your eyes lingered a second too long. Not because of anything inappropriate.
Objectively speaking. Mostly because he looked entirely in his element here.
Comfortable.
Certain.
Easy in a way most people weren’t anymore.
The batter swung.
Missed.
Strike three.
The game ended instantly beneath a burst of cheers loud enough to echo across the surrounding park. Parents rose from bleachers clapping while children sprinted across the field like they’d just won the World Series instead of a local Saturday game.
Your son immediately ripped his helmet off before searching the stands. The second he found you, he pointed triumphantly toward the scoreboard with the biggest grin you’d seen all week.
You laughed softly despite yourself before clapping harder.
“Okay,” Rachel said beside you, sounding deeply emotional. “That one’s definitely your kid.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The dramatic pointing,” she replied immediately. “That was absolutely inherited.”
You rolled your eyes while standing from the bleachers.
Parents began slowly filtering toward the field now while children celebrated loudly near the dugouts. Folding chairs scraped against concrete. Car keys jingled. Somewhere nearby, someone uncorked what sounded suspiciously like champagne despite the children still actively present.
You adjusted the strap of your purse higher onto your shoulder before descending the bleachers carefully, heels clicking softly against the metal stairs.
Your son spotted you approaching almost immediately.
“Did you see my slide?”
“You almost broke your ankle.”
“That means yes.”
“You also ignored Coach Harrington’s signal twice.”
Your son looked dramatically betrayed.
“You noticed that?”
“I notice everything.”
“That’s terrifying.”
“It should be.”
He groaned loudly while falling into step beside you toward the dugout area where the rest of the team gathered around Steve.
The boys swarmed him instantly.
Talking over one another.
Arguing about plays.
Demanding snacks.
Steve somehow managed to answer every question while distributing juice boxes from an oversized cooler at the same time. His cap sat crooked now, curls damp from heat and pushed messily against his forehead while dirt streaked one side of his shorts from apparently demonstrating slides earlier in the game.
The entire scene looked chaotic.
Domestic, almost.
The thought appeared so suddenly you immediately shut it down.
Absolutely not.
Your son grabbed a juice box before launching directly into an animated retelling of his own performance like Steve hadn’t been standing ten feet away witnessing the entire thing already.
“And THEN Tyler missed the ball—”
“You missed two signals,” Steve interrupted calmly.
Your son froze.
“…You noticed that too?”
Steve gave him a look.
“I notice everything.”
You stared at Steve briefly.
Steve stared back.
Then your son groaned loudly enough for several parents nearby to laugh. “This team is psychologically against me.”
Steve finally laughed again before reaching over to ruffle your son’s hair hard enough to make him squawk in protest. “You played good today,” Steve told him warmly afterward. “Especially your batting.”
Your son visibly brightened immediately.
Praise from Steve clearly mattered.
A lot.
You watched the interaction quietly while parents continued filtering away around you. The field slowly emptied beneath the fading sunlight now, boys peeling away one by one toward waiting cars while coaches gathered equipment back into bins.
The energy softened.
Quieter now.
More personal.
Your son sprinted off toward Tyler moments later after loudly announcing they needed to “discuss strategy,” leaving you standing near the dugout fence alone with Steve for the first time all afternoon.
For a second, neither of you spoke.
The noise around the field faded into comfortable background sound. Distant conversations. Dugout gates clanging shut. Birds shifting through trees surrounding the park while warm wind carried the lingering scent of dirt and cut grass through the air.
Steve rested his forearms against the fence casually before glancing toward you.
“You know,” he said eventually, “you’re significantly scarier during games.”
You blinked once.
“Excuse me?”
“You yell at the umpire under your breath.”
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do.”
“I was offering constructive criticism.”
Steve smiled faintly.
“At one point I’m pretty sure you called him visually impaired.”
“He missed three obvious calls.”
“That’s not the point.”
You crossed your arms lightly.
“He should improve professionally.”
Steve shook his head while laughing quietly under his breath again. “There it is.”
“What?”
“That thing you do.”
Your brows pulled together slightly.
“What thing?”
“You act really intimidating,” he explained casually, “but then your kid gets on base and suddenly you’re standing up clapping like a soccer mom.”
You stared at him flatly. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t compare me to a soccer mom.”
“It’s not an insult.”
“It absolutely is.”
Steve grinned openly now, sunlight catching briefly against the edge of his smile while he leaned back against the fence.
“You know what I mean.”
Unfortunately—
You did.
And somehow, that irritated you more.
Mostly because he’d noticed. Not the polished version of you everyone else reacted to first. Not the meetings or designer clothes or expensive car.
The softer things.
The embarrassing things.
Your son looking for you in the stands The way you tracked every play. How quickly your attention shifted entirely toward him once the game started.
Steve noticed all of it.
Which felt strangely invasive despite how harmless it actually was.
“You’re very observant for a baseball coach,” you muttered eventually.
Steve shrugged lightly.
“Kinda my job.”
“Mm.”
Silence settled briefly again.
Not awkward.
Just slower now.
The kind that appeared naturally after spending several hours around someone instead of forcing conversation to fill space.
Then Steve tilted his head slightly. “So where’d you learn baseball?”
The question caught you off guard enough that you looked at him properly again.
“My father,” you answered after a second. “Mostly.”
Steve nodded once, waiting.
You weren’t entirely sure why you continued speaking afterward. “He was obsessed with it when I was growing up,” you admitted. “Made me memorize statistics during dinner.”
Steve laughed softly.
“That sounds intense.”
“It was incredibly intense.”
“But you liked it anyway.”
You hesitated briefly.
Then:
“…Eventually.”
Something about the answer seemed to amuse him.
“You know,” Steve admitted, “I really did think you hated being here at first.”
You raised an eyebrow.
“At baseball?”
“At baseball practices. Games. Parent stuff.” He gestured vaguely toward the field. “You always looked like you had somewhere more important to be.”
The comment landed closer to the truth than you preferred.
Still—
You looked toward your son laughing near the parking lot with teammates before answering quietly:
“I don’t.”
Steve followed your gaze.
And for the first time all afternoon—
Neither of you joked after that.
Wednesday evenings usually belonged to work.
Conference calls.
Investor dinners.
Last-minute schedule changes sent by assistants who sounded terrified every time they called you after six o’clock.
Your weeks operated like machinery most of the time. Precise. Structured. Timed down to the minute because they had to be. Entire companies relied on your attention remaining exactly where it was supposed to remain, and normally, you preferred it that way.
Predictable meant manageable.
Which was why sitting in the backseat of your Escalade at six-thirty on a Wednesday evening felt strangely unnatural.
The soft glow of your laptop illuminated the leather interior while email notifications continued appearing relentlessly across your screen, yet your attention drifted toward the baseball field outside every few seconds anyway.
Warm sunset light spilled across Hawkins Community Park in long streaks of orange and gold, reflecting against the windshield while boys sprinted across the grass below. Baseballs cracked rhythmically into gloves. Coaches shouted instructions across the field. Somewhere near the parking lot entrance, a parent argued loudly with a child about unfinished homework while the smell of cut grass drifted faintly through the barely opened window beside you.
Your meeting had been canceled less than an hour ago.
Then your assistant rearranged tomorrow morning’s presentation.
Then Greg had casually mentioned you were already fifteen minutes away from practice pickup anyway.
And somehow—
Instead of going home…
You ended up here.
Your phone buzzed softly against the armrest beside you.
MIA: Need me to reschedule the Tokyo call too?
Your fingers hovered above the screen briefly before typing back:
No. I’ll take it later.
A pause.
Then:
MIA: Are you at baseball right now?
You stared at the message for a second longer than necessary.
Outside, your son sprinted across the field during drills while dust kicked behind his cleats beneath the fading sunlight. His laughter carried faintly through the glass even from this far away, blending into the noise of whistles and bouncing baseballs echoing throughout the park.
࿓ Summary: Eddie's band has an upcoming gig at a local bar with his band, and the party decides to go to support him. Steve is not entirely thrilled about spending his saturday night listening to whatever loud music Eddies band favors. He thinks he could be having a much better time on a date with some random college girl. That is until he realizes there's a girl in the band... a really hot bassist.
࿓ CW: Fluff, Steve is WHIPPED, Dork!Steve, Steve has NO GAME, reader is oddly turned on, Eddie lives cuz I said so, BassistAndSinger!Reader, Steve is literally on his knees begging for a chance, you're equally as whipped, they're both crazy, swearing, drinking, smoking, kinda steamy?
࿓ A/N: I love having Eddie being Cupid in my fics, also... final chapter of the Desired series is coming out TOMORROW WOOOOO
࿓ WC: 3.1k
࿓ Song Inspo: ↻ ◁ | Straight On by Heart | ▷ ↺
Steve rested his arm against the window of his beamer, fingers digging into the side of his temple as he drove with a small scowl.
Robin leaned over the center console, "Someone's mad they had to cancel their daaaaate." She sang the last word loudly, successfully getting under Steve's skin.
Nancy laughed lightly from the back. Jonathan turned his attention to the front. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm sure Eddie will really appreciate it."
Steve grumbled low, brows furrowing deeper. "He better, I was looking forward to..." He trailed off, the girl's name momentarily leaving his mind.
Robin held back a laugh, "What's her name Steve?"
"Just give me a second-"
"Wow, she must really be the one." Robin rolled her eyes.
"Cindy! Yeah I was looking forward to going out with her." Steve huffed, eyes narrowing on the road.
"Steve, you couldn't even remember her name, so stop complaining. This should be a fun night." Nancy called from the back.
"Oh yeah, sure. It'll be lots of fun letting my ears bleed listening to his loud ass music, can't wait."
Robin glanced at Nancy through the rearview mirror. Unlike Steve, they had been to a few smaller gigs. They knew the kind of music Eddie's band opted to play, and more importantly, they knew what a certain band member looked and sounded like.
Robin sighed happily, "I can't wait for you to eat your words, Harrington."
A dry laugh left his mouth, "Yeah sure. Y'know what, if I eat my words I owe you whatever you want Buckley."
Robin's eyes lit up, "You mean it?"
"Swear on it."
"Alright..." She thought for a moment before smiling smugly, "You'll have to be mine and Vicki's date chauffeur for... a month."
He barked out a laugh, "Deal. But be prepared to have to beg Nance or Jonathan to take you on dates, cause it's not gonna be me."
Nancy bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. Steve was in for a rude awakening.
The air in the bar was thick and hot with the smell of sweat and liquor. A small makeshift stage sat pushed up against the wall. A smoky haze drifted through the bar, drawing Steve's attention to a group of college kids smoking in the corner.
Steve scanned the bar for Eddie, eyes narrowed slightly. Robin materialized beside him with a glass of beer. "Here you go, Dingus."
"Thanks." Steve took a long drink, sighing happily into the cup.
Robin's nose crinkled slightly, "I don't know how you drink that stuff. Why do you torture yourself with penny water?"
Steve began to answer when an arm wrapped around his neck. "Cause Harrington here likes to think he's a big tough boy." Eddie smirked slightly, leaning close to Steve.
"This is the thanks I get for showing up to support you? The two of you ganging up on me for my drink preferences?" Steve frowned hard.
"Don't worry, you'll be rewarded soon enough." Eddie gave Robin a quick wink before peeling away from Steve.
Steve eyed the two of them. "So, when do you play?"
"In like 30 minutes. Which is why I'm out here. Just grabbing drinks for the band and then we're setting up." Eddie nodded to the bar top, where the bartender was busy concocting a couple mixed drinks.
"I just need to ask, how loud is it gonna be on a scale from 1 to 10?" Steve nursed his drink, eyes cast on the floor.
Eddie snickered to himself, "Loud, but I've got a feeling you won't mind. Thanks for coming, means a lot. I'll see you guys after the set." Eddie clapped a hard hand on Steve's shoulder before disappearing into the growing sea of people.
Steve noticed more people filing into the bar, some of them wearing the makeshift shirts Ed's had made for his band. "I didn't realize they had a fan base."
"Well, Steven, if you had bothered to show up to some of their shows you would know why." Nancy came up beside him.
Steve groaned. "Why are you guys speaking in fucking riddles!?" He brought a hand over his face.
Jonathan smiled to himself, enjoying the show before him. "Just relax Steve."
Eddie carefully pushed open the door to the breakroom, a heavy smile on his lips. "I come bearing gifts!"
The group let out a string of cheers and whoops. Everyone reached out for the respective drinks, eyes shining brightly. You smiled brightly, "Thanks, Van Halen."
Eddie plopped beside you with a large smile. "Oh don't thank me yet, Heart."
"Fuck, what are you up to, Munson?" Your eyes narrowed in on him.
"Nothing that concerns you yet, just focus on our set." He shot you a wink.
You let out a small sigh, carefully sipping your drink. "You're gonna be the death of me."
Eddie smiled to himself, it was going to be a great fucking night.
"Come on! He's about to start!" Robin grabbed Steve's arms hard, yanking him through the gathering crowd.
Steve slightly dug his heels in the floor to no avail, "Do we have to be right up front? I'm not looking forward to having my ears bleeding."
"God do you have to be so whiny!? Just shut up and let's cheer on Eddie."
"I'm not whiny! Just forgive me if I'm not entirely thrilled about having to drive everyone out here. It's not that I don't think it's gonna be a good show, I'm sure Eddie's great. But you know that his type of music isn't my...." He trailed off, his eyes locking onto the stage. The lights dimmed slightly, the band making their way onto the stage. The drummer slid onto his little stool, scooting up towards the kit. Another guy set himself up at a long keyboard. Eddie of course slung on his electric guitar. But then there was you.
Steve couldn't take his eyes off you, the way you gently lifted the strap of your bass guitar over your head, letting it rest against your hips. The way the lights hit you from the back, casting a shadow down the front of your body. The shout of the crowd faded behind him the longer he stared up at you. You carefully pushed your hair behind your shoulders, carefully fiddling with the heads of the bass.
Steve had never seen someone so devastatingly beautiful before. He was captured by the way you looked hard and soft at the same time.
Eddie stepped into your space by the microphone. "We've got a special performance for you today. Y'see I just recently found out little Miss Bass guitar right here has the voice of a siren. So naturally, I'm making her sing. Might be the only time you're graced with her beautiful vocals, so drink it up." He shot a wink at Steve before turning to you. "Let'em hear you, Heart." He grabbed the microphone one more time speaking into it as you swatted him away. "By the way I call her Heart cause she sounds just like Ann Wilson."
You shoved him back over to his spot. "Ignore his drunk ass. Alright, speaking of Heart, I thought it would only be fitting to sing one of their songs. So, uh people in the front, protect your ears." You glanced down, your eyes locking onto Steves. He looked star struck. You bit your lip, sending him a quick wink before nodding over at Eddie. The kick of the drums filled the small bar, Eddie carefully plucking at the strings of his guitar.
"Quite some time, I been sittin out. Didn't take no chances, I was a prisoner of doubt."
Your voice carried straight into Steve's ears, his heart fluttering against his chest. You worked the bass in your hand, standing close to the microphone stand. Your lips brushed against the mic, eyes casting down at Steve again. He couldn't help but imagine the feel of your lips brushing against his.
"Comin straight on for you, you made my mind. Now I'm stronger, now I'm comin through, straight on. Straight on for you."
Steve felt all previous annoyance evaporate in his body, replaced with warm longing. He couldn't take his eyes off you, the way your hips moved slightly, or the way the lights hit your chest just right. He swallowed hard, head dizzy.
The song came to an end much faster than Steve had wanted. If he was being honest he could have spent the whole night listening to your voice and the bass drift into his ears. But instead the music faded out and cheers pulled him from his daydreams. You smiled, giving an awkward bow before switching spots with Eddie.
The rest of the set was a blur, the music didn't seem so loud when he was looking at you. In fact the only thing he could really hear while his eyes were trained on you, was the loud thumping of his heart.
Before he knew it, the set was over and you were disappearing into the break room with the rest of the band. When you had officially faded from his sight, he looked over at Robin. She was already looking at him, a knowing smirk on her face.
He blinked, "You- did you see- who was that?"
She smiled and slung an arm around his shoulder, leading him to the bar. "Careful there Romeo, you get anymore lovesick and you won't be able to properly drive Vick and I to that nice restaurant downtown."
He stared at her, "Robin I'll drive you anywhere you want if you tell me who that was. Do you know her? Have you seen her before?"
She laughed, "I know her, kinda. I've talked to her a few times, y'know at Eddie's other gigs."
"Why wasn't I there!?" He pouted.
"Cause, dingus, you didn't want to 'waste your date nights.'" She mocked him.
"Well you should've slapped me! Dragged me here! Robin, you're supposed to be my wingman!"
"I don't know her well enough to set you up, Steven!" She shoved him slightly.
"Where's Eddie??" He looked around wildly.
Robin laughed to herself, "Calm down. If you're this wild when she pops up you'll scare her away."
Eddie waded through the crowd, smirking at the sight of a love sick Steve. Steve grabbed him by his jacket. "Eddie, please you've gotta introduce me to that girl in your band."
"Wow, no 'great job Eddie, you shredded up there Ed's, what a great set!' Nope you just jump straight to my girl." He laughed at the devastated look on Steve's face.
"Y-your girl?" He whimpered out slightly.
"Yup, love of my life." He grinned more.
"O-oh." He deflated slightly.
"God, Harrington. Get a grip. I'm fucking with you. You have a terrible poker face." Eddie doubled over in laughter.
"Damn it, Munson that wasn't-" He stopped short as his eyes locked onto your figure sneaking up behind Eddie with a sly smile.
You pounced like a cat, jumping on his back. "What's got you rolling on the floor with laughter, Van Halen?" You smiled brightly.
Steve gulped audibly. Eddie slid you off his back with a devious smile. "Oh! Well, if you must know, Harrington here is quite the funny man. I've mentioned Steve before, right?" He looked over at you.
Your eyes drifted over towards Steve, a graceful smile lighting up your face and setting his heart on fire. "Yeah, you've mentioned him a couple times."
"All good things, I hope." He squeaked out.
You smiled more. "Nope, terrible awful things. All bad."
His face drained of all color. "Wait- what? No- what did he say? Cause it's definitely exaggerated-"
You paused slightly, eyeing him in slight amusement. "I'm kidding." You smiled.
Steve scratched the back of his neck nervously, "Oh- yeah no I totally knew that. Totally. But really what has he said?" He looked at you nervously.
"Just that you're a really sweet guy and you know how to treat a girl right... at least now you do." You teased slightly.
Eddie and Robin had magically disappeared, now watching the show from across the bar.
"Oh that's good! Yeah that's really good! Yeah- yeah I definitely know how to treat a girl." He tried adding some confidence to his voice.
"Oh yeah? And how would you treat me?" You stepped closer, backing him up against the bartop.
Steve's mouth ran dry, eyes wide as he watched you smile up at him. "I'd uh- take you out somewhere nice. And I would pick you up of course! And uh- hold your hand- if you let me of course." He swallowed as your hand slipped into his. "Wow- you have really soft hands. Did I say that outloud?"
You giggled, and nodded. "You did. Is there anything else you think might be soft?" You prompted him.
Steve let out a ragged breath, his eyes flickering towards your lips. "I can definitely think of one thing."
You smiled bright, finally stepping out of his space. "Come on, Harrington. Maybe I'll let you find out if you dance with me." You tugged him out to the middle of the bar.
Steve smiled, his heart finally settling into his chest as you tugged him. You grabbed his hands, twisting and turning with him. Steve twirled you around, admiring the way your hair fanned out in the air. You spared a quick glance over at Eddie and Robin who were smiling like idiots.
"Look at them! They totally set this whole thing up!" You shouted over the music.
Steve looked over for a second. "Remind me to thank them!" He shouted back.
Your head tipped back in laughter. "Oh so you're real confident, huh?"
He shrugged, finally gaining some confidence and pulling you closer. "I dunno, looks like you're enjoying my company as much as I'm enjoying yours."
You blushed slightly, staring up at him with a gleam in your eye. "You're not sooo bad."
"Glad to know the feeling’s mutual, Heart." He shot you a wink that made your heart stutter.
Robin smiled, "Finally!"
Eddie, clinked his glass with hers. "Look, little Stevies all grown up and making real moves."
"How did you know they would like each other?"
He shrugged, "I dunno, something in my soul just told me it would work."
You and Steve were wrapped in each other's world the whole night, drifting from the bar to the floor to now standing just outside the bar. You carefully pulled a cigarette from your back pocket, placing it carefully between your lips. Steve pulled out a lighter, carefully lighting the end of it for you. You took a short inhale before directing the smoke out the side of your mouth, handing him the cigarette. He took a small puff, letting it dangle in his fingers.
"Look at us, already sharing a cigarette." You nudged him slightly.
"So I guess marriage comes next then?" He smirked.
You rolled your eyes, plucking the cig from his mouth. "I'll think about it if you're a good kisser."
"Well then I might as well get the ring."
You smiled wide, "Confident are we?"
Steve's hand slowly moved to your waist, his touch warm against your skin. "You wanna test it out?"
You gazed up at him, stepping closer. Your arms carefully wrapped around his neck, making sure the flame stayed far away from his beautiful locks. "I did promise a kiss if you dance with me."
Your face inched closer. "And we did a lot of dancing." Steve continued, his nose brushing against yours.
"Well then I guess I owe ya." You smiled before letting your lips meet his. His hand on your waist shifted to the small of your back, pulling you closer. Your head tilted, the kiss growing deeper. His lips moved feverishly against yours, knocking the air out of your lungs. It didn't matter that both your breaths smelled like smoke, if anything it added to the desire swirling in your stomach. His tongue swiped gently across your bottom lip, requesting access to your mouth. You let him in, lips parting enough for his tongue to meet yours. His other hand came up to cup the side of your face, holding you close to him. You let out a small hum of delight as his tongue rolled with yours. You slowly pulled away, pulling at his bottom lip with your teeth before smoothing over the spot with your lips.
Steve's mind grew fuzzy with pleasure as you continued kissing down his neck. You gently placed the cigarette in his mouth, freeing your hand so it could trail down his chest. He took in the last huff of the cigarette before tossing it onto the ground. His hand pulled your face back to his, squeezing your chin enough to open your mouth. He slammed his lips back onto yours, passing the smoke into your mouth. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the sensation. You stepped even closer, fisting his shirt in your hands as your mouth worked with his. You laced a hand through his hair at the back of his neck, tugging gently and pulling a low groan from his throat.
Steve finally pulled back slightly. "Go out with me."
You smiled up at him, eyes glossy. "Done."
He smiled more, breathing heavy. "Come home with me."
You tried to hide the growing smile, "Didn't you come here with like three of your friends?"
"Yeah? Who did you come here with?"
"Ed's."
"Great, so I'll take you home, and Eddie will take them home." He spoke like it was the simplest thing in the world.
"I'll be in the car." You kissed his cheek, heading off to his famous beamer.
Steve looked like a kid on Christmas as he raced back into the bar, eyes searching wildly for his friends. He spotted them at a table and raced over.
Before he could even ask, Eddie spoke, "Yeah yeah, I'm taking them home. Now listen, Harrington. First: be good to her, I'm not losing my bass player because of a nice head of hair. Second: she wears a size 7 ring. And third: wrap it up. Like I said, I'm not losing my bass player, especially not to a mini Harrington."
Steve smiled wide, giving Eddie a surprisingly sweet hug. "You're set was great! I'll be at all the next ones too! You're the best, Eddie!!" He practically skipped out of the bar.
Robin stared at him, "Oh wow... he's-"
"Told you. I'm fucking Cupid, man." Eddie leaned back in his chair.
"You don't think she'll get weirded out by him?" Nancy raised a brow
Eddie barked out a laugh. "Who? Heart? No, she's fucking crazy too."
(Also if you guys wanted to be added to only a certain taglist like just the deprived series just shoot me a message and I'll remove you from the general taglist <3)
-xoxo Laurel @siriuslysmoking - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
