“Two Of A Kind”

A trip to 12 Grimmauld Place

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader

Request: I saw the trip to diagon alley fic I love the idea of Remus and reader adopting Harry and not telling anyone and also them having their own biological children I was wondering if you could make more like this maybe where their kids are older

Maybe even include some uncle Sirius when he escapes from Azkaban and they visit him at grimmauld place

Warnings: Pregnancy

A/N: Part of the Domestic Bliss universe but can be read alone!

A/N2: How much do you guys want me to mess with canon? I feel that growing up in a loving home (but specifically with Remus) means that Harry would probably be a different person and make different decisions.

Masterlist

"Hurry up, boys." You called up the stairs. "Or your father and I will leave with ought you."

A series of thuds and crashes met your words. But you just fondly rolled your eyes as you got back to packing your bag, ready to go.

"First." A voice shouted before you felt a hand land on your shoulder.

"Oh, come on!" Another voice shouted. "That's not fair."

"You snooze, you lose." The voice closest to you called out.

"Hello, my dear." You laughed. Pressing a kiss to the top of Harry's head.

Then, only a moment later, you heard the sound of thundering feet as your other son, Teddy came charging down the stairs. Hurtling towards you.

Crashing into you, Teddy wrapped his arms around you.

"Hello, my love." you greeted. Pressing a kiss to his forehead, too.

"Are you two muppets ready to leave now?" You questioned them as you picked up your bag.

"Yeah." Harry grinned. Tugging at your arm as, he pulled you into the living room where Remus was waiting. 

Sat in his favourite armchair with a newspaper open on his lap.

When he heard the three of you enter the room, he folded the newspaper. Standing up, he deposited it back on his seat as he walked towards you and the boys.

"Shall we, my lady." Remus teased. Bowing to you in an overexaggerated way.

Laughing, you swatted at his arm as you led your boys out of the house. Make sure to lock the door behind you.

When you got out into the garden you grabbed a hold of Teddy as Remus took Harry.

"Everyone ready?" You called out.

When all your boys replied with sounds of agreement, you and Remus both disappeared with a pop.

Reappearing in a narrow alleyway just down from Grimuld place. 

Momenterly fussing over your boys, you made sure that no one had been spliced before you all walked out of the alleyway.

Harry and Teddy leapt ahead, teasing each other as they ran ahead. Rasing up to number 12. With his longer legs, Teddy ended up making it first. His hand reached for the knocker as he stuck his tongue out at Harry.

The door flew open not even a moment later as Sirues towering frame took over the doorway.

"Well, if it isn't the lupins," Sirius beamed as he took in the sight of your little family. "Come in, come in." He waved as she stepped to the side, allowing you all to come.

The moment the door was safely shut behind the five of you, and you were out of the foyer, Harry and Teddy threw themselves at Sirus.

Who only laughed. Wrapping them up in a great big hug.

"How are my favourite troublemakers?" Sirues questioned them.

Causing them to chatter on to him about there exploits as he momentarily comes over to you and Remus.

"And how are the pair of you?" Sirues questions quickly as he pulls you into a hug. Pressing a kiss to both your cheeks.

"We are good." Remus assured him. As he got pulled into his own hug by Sirues.

"How are you?" You asked Sirues softly.

"Oh I'm good." Sirues waved off your concern. "Same old, same old."

You only fondly smiled at him as Harry and Teddy came up to Sirues. Each grabbing him by an arm as together they pulled him off so they could carry on chatting his ear off about something.

You couldn't quite make out what they were saying, and quite frankly, you weren't sure if you wanted to.

Also, watching the scene from behind you, Remus snorted.

"if we left now, how long do you think it would take for them to notice?" He asked you teasingly.

"Don't say that." You laughed. Gently hitting him in the chest.

Laughing, Remus grabbed the offending hand and brought it to his lips. Dropping a delicate kiss to your knuckles you and Remus finally followed after the chaos that was your children and a certain Sirues black.

You followed the three of them into the living room, where Sirues was sitting in the middle of the sofa. One of your boys on either side as Harry, seemed to be narrating an exciting tale. His hands waving as Teddy and Sires just watched on. Occasionly nodding.

Smiling at the scene, you and Remus sat in the nearby Love seat. Your bodies pressed together as you fondly watched the scene in front of you.

You didn't know what you would do with ought your boys. They really were your whole world.

💌 = fluff I 📭 = angst I 📬 = hurt/comfort I 📜 = smut I 🪧 = humour

𖤐 marauders

includes: james, sirius, remus

james fleamont potter

(3.7k) The Boy with the Glasses is Blind (💌📬: pining, james mistakenly thinks you're in love with your best friend barty)

remus john lupin

(14.4k) It's Nice To Have A Friend (💌📬: childhood best friends to lovers, you are the only person remus is comfortable being physically affectionate with publically)

(581) morning touches (💌: drabble of waking up with bf!remus)

(4.8k) A Little Push (📬💌: sirius finally tells you about your best friend remus' feelings for you after you almost kiss him at a party)

features in:

poly!moonwater ─ (1.9k) What Now? (💌: your concerned boyfriends find you feeling poorly in the infirmary and dote on you)

poly!marauders

(3.5k) What You Became (💌🪧: poly!marauders react when their clumsy girlfriend becomes a swan animagus)

platonic!bestfriend!marauders are heavily featured in animagus!reader x regulus black:

Feline Touches & Sweet Like Honey; Karma is a Cat & Padfoot vs. Whiskers & Where Padfoot Lays His Head & the furred shoulder & not sneeze proof

02: Barbie's Dreamhouse.

Joel Miller x f!bimbo!reader. previous. series masterlist. next.

02. Strawberry Lemonade.

warnings: reader stares at joel a lot and finds him hot as hell, reader is dramatic as hell (might be annoying to some), explicit thoughts, suggestive, sarah is alive and 12 years old here, reader thinks she's a homewrecker, not beta read.

summary: you just can't help but gawk at your hot contractor who's working for free, thank god the view is free too. but a revelation makes you question if you're lusting for a married man.

reader's outfit is the blue one of the dolls from the barbie movie (this one under)

You had settled on the couch on the second-floor balcony with a glass and pitcher of cold lemonade and a few snacks, while Joel was up on the roof, using a ladder to climb up to the edges.

There was no mistaking his experience— he made little noise at all, moving around the structure as if it were just another Tuesday. Despite his hardass appearance, he was a very skilled worker.

He eventually climbed down from the roof and headed inside, taking a second to catch his breath before spotting you upstairs.

He was immediately thrown off by the adorable dress— especially the heart detail. But he knew it was rude to stare, so he did his best to keep his eyes on yours.

"That… was actually a lot quicker than I thought it would be," Joel said, clearly pleased. "I should have the rest of the replacement shingles put on in no time at all…"

"Are they pink?" you giggled.

"They're white but I painted over the roof last time, I'll just paint over em' some other day."

"I got some snacks for us. I tested the fridge and it was working too." you poured him a glass of lemonade. "Here, cool off."

Joel took the drink. The cool liquid was very much appreciated after all of that hard work. He took a few swigs from his glass before he looked you over again.

"Thank you…" He nodded, clearly still unable to tear his eyes away from your dress. "Where'd you stay last night?"

"I found a nearby bed and breakfast beside a gasoline station. At least they didn't question why I was all dirty when I checked in." you giggled. "So, what's next?"

"Hmm… the plumbin'. I’m assuming it hasn’t been fixed." Joel's brow furrowed slightly. “The main shutoff doesn’t work very well, so if there’s a leak, you won’t be able to do anything about it. That’s pretty much a priority.”

"Oh, right. Um... so what do we do?"

"Well, we’ve got to find the shutoff for now," Joel said as he set his drink down. It was clear he hadn’t done much plumbing in his life, but from the times he had worked on it, it was also clear he was quite skillful when it came to repairs.

"Follow me. The main one should be in the basement, from what I remember."

"Alright! Lead the way."

You follow Joel as he headed down the stairs into the basement— it was pretty cluttered down there, with lots of old junk strewn around. As he made his way across the room to the back wall, he grabbed an old flashlight and turned it on.

"Hopefully, the shutoff valve ain't coated in any rust," he muttered. "But if it is, might be tougher than expected…"

Sure enough, he found the right valve, but it was covered in that awful orange rust and was completely stuck. He frowned as he studied it.

"Oh… that ain't good. This could be a problem…"

"Oh no... what do we do?"

He looked at you and shrugged.

"We could apply some WD-40 to it and hope that loosens it up. But that’s a long shot. In all honesty, I think we’re gon' need to hire a professional plumber to come in and see what can be done about this."

"Well, uh..." you trailed off. Joel watched as you fidgeted with your fingers as your body grew stiff.

Joel could tell that you were trying your best not to worry, but he really couldn’t come up with any alternative. As much as he hated to ask, he really didn’t think there was another way around it.

"I'll cover it. Don't worry."

"Thank you, Joel." you put your hands behind your back and smiled cheekily at him.

In the course of the next few weeks, Joel hired workers from an electrician to install the chandelier and fix the wiring, to plumbers to fix the plumbing issue. With his own money, nonetheless.

"Thank you, seriously, Joel..." You stared up at the pink jewels dangling off the chandelier in awe.

Joel chuckled softly and was about to respond, but he paused, realizing just how many times he’s heard those same words in just a few weeks.

"You don't have to thank me so much, you know. This was nothing"

"I mean, giving thanks is always a basic human thing." you smiled and placed both of your hands on your hips. "Appreciation can do amazing things."

There was another pause. He shrugged and smirked. "I mean… are you always this appreciative?" he asked, trying to hide his smile.

"Of course! Why wouldn't I?"

"I dunno, I've just never known anyone who can be this appreciative, you know? It’s definitely not something I'm used to hearing…"

There was another pause as he was contemplating what to say.

"It’s just that… you're never gonna make me feel bad for it or anything, right?"

Your shoulders dropped and you tilted your head to the side. "Why would I?"

He sighed.

"I dunno. It's just that most people I know like to take advantage of or make me feel bad for what I do for them. You know, like always makin' me feel like I should do more just because I'm helpin' in the first place. But you don't ever act like that, and… well, I dunno. I guess I haven't been used to it."

"Why would they do such a thing?" you looked offended, furrowing your brows.

"I've always just been surrounded by assholes. I guess it's what's really normal for me. But with you… I mean, the difference is staggerin', isn't it? I guess I'm just now realizin' just how shitty most people that I've known actually are."

You smiled and walked towards him. "And how many people did you offer to fix their house for free?"

He laughed as he thought about it.

"Never before have I offered something like that. Usually, it's more like helpin' 'em fix their car or somethin' like that. So honestly, this is new territory for both of us. Though, even then, you're still much more appreciative than just about anyone I’ve ever come across."

"But I do promise," you held out your pinky finger with a wide smile. "I will pay you back soon."

For some reason, the pinky finger was funny to him. Maybe it was just that you were so genuinely innocent in your promise, or the contrast between how serious of a situation this could potentially be and you being so playful. He took your pinky finger and wrapped his own around yours. He looked you over.

"Do you swear? Because if you don't, there's about to be hell to pay. I take pinky promises quite seriously."

"That's so fun! I always keep my promises."

"I know you will. So this right here is a sign of a promise. And I trust that you will be able to keep that promise, so I don't need you to repay me right away."

"I promise. Cross my heart, hope to die."

He laughed and nodded, his smile growing as he squeezed slightly harder around your pinky. "Okay then. Just remember, you break this pinky promise, and I won't hesitate to let you know just how disappointed I am."

You let out a giggle after letting go of his pinky "Ooooh, I'm so scared."

He laughed as well.

"I think you should be! I'm not usually one to joke around when it comes to stuff like this." he chuckled again. "But just so you know, even though I'd be pretty angry, I really wouldn't have it in me to stay mad at you. You know that by now, right?"

"Why?" you batted your eyelashes at him "Is it because I'm preeeeetty?"

He was trying really hard to suppress his smile and hold back from laughing.

"It is indeed because I think you are pretty…. But I can't deny the fact that you've also become really good at pushin' out my buttons. Even if I really should be furious 'bout all the money I spent on this house, you make it tough not to just smile back at 'cha and forgive ya."

"I know, I'm sorryyyy..." you clasped your hands together and dramatically knelt down in front of him.

He chuckled. "Well, I really mean it. Your personality is one of the most refreshin' personalities I've ever come across in a long time. And I never would have even met you if it weren't for this house and Mags. That has to count for somethin', right?"

"Sentimental value?"

"Yeah, exactly. It's like the universe knew I needed someone like you in my life. Who knew a house could actually lead to a meaningful relationship… I definitely didn't see that comin'."

"The world works in mysterious ways." you shrugged. "Keep up, old man."

Joel laughed louder. There was something about you calling him an old man that he loved, even though he should be offended.

"Watch it, before you start makin' this old man feel his age. My body is just now startin' to fall apart on me, don't give it a reason to start fallin' apart faster than it already is!"

The both of you laughed. You got up from the floor and fixed your dress "So, is there anything else the house needs?"

Joel thought for a moment, finally coming to the realization that the house was probably good for now. It'd definitely need some more work on the interior in time, but at the least, it was liveable.

"Honestly? No, I don't believe there is. I think this house is good for now. I'll keep doin' my check-ins every few weeks or so to make sure that everythin' is alright with the house, but besides that, there's really nothin' more we need to do here."

"So..." you fiddled with your fingers. "What do we do now?"

Joel shrugged. "I'm not sure. I guess we just have ourselves a nice, long moment of standin' here and being proud of the fact that we've both survived the experience of trying to renovate this damn house. It’s a miracle either of us has our sanity still intact."

He laughed as he leaned up against the wall of the dining room.

"You know, you've spent a lot of time here. I've never even seen the inside of your house." you giggled.

"You know you're not wrong, I was here almost every day for weeks on end." his eyes trailed off as he thought and sighed. "I guess I should invite you over sometime then, right? It's not nearly as interesting as this house, but I'm sure you'd love it."

"My house is pink. Big deal." you rolled your eyes and walked towards him, leaning against the kitchen wall "You know every nook and cranny of my house, of course, I deserve to know yours."

"It's only fair."

"Indeed."

You kept staring at Joel. He had some beads of sweat falling from his scalp to his face, and god did he look hotter than hell. You felt like a Victorian lady seeing an ankle.

"Are you single-" your question got muffled by the sound of the doorbell, and turn your head towards the door "Coming!" you said.

You walked towards the door and swung it open, greeted by a young girl. "Hi, is my dad here?"

Your brows furrowed. "Dad?" who could possibly-

"Sarah," Joel said from behind you. Your head immediately snapped towards him and your eyes widened like a deer in headlights. "Have you met my daughter?" he asked you.

You blinked twice. "I-I don't think I have."

You really had no idea he even was a father... or even considered, married.

Sarah looked around the room in awe, her eyes trailing all across the furniture and her expression changing several times as she looked.

"Did you fix this house all by yourself?" she asked Joel, her eyes wide.

Joel cleared his throat and nodded. "Yeah. I rebuilt this whole house pretty much myself— minus the plumbin' and electrician work, which I had hired some guys for. We still have to go through planning on each room, but it's almost done." he pointed towards you. "She's still thinkin' about what to do with all these rooms."

Sarah's facial expression changed to a small smile as she giggled. She turned her head towards you. "Daddy tells me a lot about you. He says you're so nice. The nicest lady he's ever met. Was it all true?”

You were still in a shocked state but you shook your head a bit and gave her a smile. "Why don't you be the judge of that?"

"You're really pretty..." Sarah stared in awe at you.

"Hey, didn't you say you gotta pick up your Girl Scout cookies today?" Joel looked at his wristwatch. "We gotta hurry if you wanna start sellin' 'em tomorrow."

"Oh, right!"

Joel and Sarah waved goodbye to you as they walked out of your house, and you stood there on your porch questioning everything.

"He's... married?" you closed the front door and walked up the stairs, slowly and dramatically. You tried to think of the signs that he was married. Ring? You didn't even notice! Well, not counting the times you stared at his large fingers and imagined them inside of you...

"Oh, god..." the realization hit you. You entered the main bedroom and you fell to your knees. "I'm a homewrecker!" you cried out.

tags: @danaispunk @buckybarnessweetheart @skysmiller @joelsflannel @sweetenerobert @clownd1ck @jhiddles03 @schwytie @femmeanonymelives @redemie @pedropascal-whore @hello-shirousa @survivingandenduring @sk-e-le-ton-s @urbrazysimp @amyispxnk @clownd1ck @livingdeadmaria @joeldjarin @blood-suckerxoxo @reallylovereading

(tags are open! just reply to be added. reblogs are appreciated!)

You’re Losing Me Part 14

𝖲𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: 𝖸𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖩𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖯𝗈𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋, 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗎𝗇𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗈𝗇𝖽…𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖶𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗁𝖺𝗄𝗂, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗉𝗎𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖩𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌, 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝖽𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍. 𝖶𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗎𝗅𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍, 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗒 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋? 𝖮𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖩𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗀𝗈𝗈𝖽?

A/N: this is a hanahaki au. WC: 3.9k

Remus sits in a booth, anxiously tapping the tabletop with a butter knife as he waits. The boys had kept him back for too long. At least that’s what he thought. Between trying to find a decent outfit and listening to James’ ridiculous plan, Remus was sure he’d be late; running all the way here to not keep you waiting. Funnily enough, now here he sits, waiting for you to join him.

“Ready to order?” The waitress asks pointedly as she approaches the table.

“Sorry.” He apologizes, setting down the cutlery with a sheepish smile.

“So?” She asks again, this time with a smile. “Ready to order?”

“I’m actually waiting for-“

“Moons!”

Remus’ head whips up at the sound of your voice and when he sees you standing at the entrance, he completely forgets about the person right in front of him.

“Hey.” He breathes, though you’re nowhere near close enough to hear him- something the waitress finds incredibly amusing. She looks between the two of you with a curious gaze.

“I’ll just…give you a minute…” She says- mostly to herself- before turning around and hurrying towards the kitchen.

“Hey. Sorry I’m late,” You apologize once you reach the booth.

“You’re not.” Remus assures you. “I got here early.”

“I had to talk to McGonagall about the classes I dropped-“

“It’s fine.”

“And then I went to meet with Kettleburn to see if he’d still allow me to do my apprenticeship with him-“

“No worries.”

“And for some reason everybody wanted to stop me on the way here to say hi? And like, yeah it’s nice but-“

“You look lovely.” Remus says casually, effectively stopping your rambling.

You freeze, cutting yourself off mid sentence before looking up at Remus with a confused smile.

“Just for the record.” He adds.

“Shut up.” You mumble, laughing nervously.

“No, really.” Remus insists with a nod.

You continue to stare at him skeptically.

“I especially love your jumper.” He comments, eyeing said garment teasingly while he takes a sip of his water.

You roll your eyes with an amused huff.

“You mean your jumper?”

“Is that where I know it from?” Remus asks, pretending as if the information shocked him.

“Do you want it back?” You ask with a guilty smile, already starting to pull one of your arms through the sleeve. After all, it is long overdue. You’d had it for over a month now.

“Not a chance.” Remus refuses, reaching over and placing his hand upon yours.

Your smile drops as you stare at Remus’s hand now sitting atop yours. Your gaze slowly rises and you swallow nervously when you lock eyes with him. The playfulness of it all gone as you hold his stare, unable to look away.

“It looks better on you.” He adds softly, causing your cheeks to warm.

“I brought some appetizers!” The waitress announces, setting the platter down with a proud smile. “On the house, of course.”

Remus pulls his hand away and you clear your throat, avoiding his gaze as you readjust the jumper. The waitress looks between you curiously.

“I didn't interrupt anything, did I?” She asks cautiously.

“No.” You tell her at the same time that Remus says “Yes.”

You look at Remus with wide eyes before turning to stare at the waitress, no doubt looking just as shocked as you feel. She’d have laughed at your expression if she didn’t find you two stumbling over your words so endearing.

“Right. Well…enjoy!” She smiles knowingly, walking away before either of you can even thank her.

You and Remus exchange a shy grin before digging into the food.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Sorry again for being late.” You apologize with a frown, dipping some fries into the pile of ketchup and taking a bite. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long…”

“Waiting for you has never been a problem before.” Remus hums absentmindedly, picking up a chicken wing and taking a huge bite. “Don’t see why it would be now.”

Choosing to ignore the somersault your heart just did at his confession, you smile appreciatively at Remus only to let out a startled laugh when you look at him.

“What?” He asks, mouth still full of food.

“You have barbecue sauce on your face.” You inform him in between giggles.

Remus grabs a napkin and wipes the side of his mouth before looking to you for approval.

“It’s still there.” You tell him with a shake of your head.

Remus frowns and wipes his face again.

“Did I get it?”

“Not even close…”

“For fucks-“ He aggressively wipes his face a third time. “Good?”

“Give me that.” You huff, stealing the napkin out of his hand. “Come here.”

Remus leans forward and you gently grab hold of his chin as you wipe the napkin across the right side of his mouth.

“Honestly, Moony.” You scold teasingly. “If the napkin came back clean the first time around, why would you continue to wipe the same spot?”

“Make fun all you want, love. From where I’m standing it looks like I won.”

“Oh yeah?” You ask, playfully narrowing your eyes at him. “How so?”

“Mm-mm.” He shrugs casually before smiling at you. “But I am quite comfortable.”

It’s only then that you realize you’re still gingerly holding his chin, with his face mere inches from yours. You see his eyes drop to your lips and that’s when you seem to finally snap out of it, pulling away abruptly to put some space between the two of you.

“Here.” You hand him back the napkin, avoiding eye contact as you do. “Try not to make a mess this time.”

“Yes ma’am.” He nods, chuckling at the offended look you give him.

You playfully stick your tongue out at him and Remus points at something over your shoulder, taking a few of your fries when your back is turned.

“Hey!” You whine when you realize that he’d simply tricked you.

“Oh, did you want them?” Remus asks cluelessly after having shoved the fries into his mouth.

“No…” You shake your head, leaning back in your seat before adding, “…tosser.”

Remus throws his head back in laughter before looking at you with a fond smile.

“Missed you.” He confesses. And it’s true; he had. It had been so long since you’d been your playful self, he almost forgot how much he loved it. Almost.

“Missed you too.” You return. “That’s why I asked you to ditch.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, taking a large gulp of his drink.

“Yeah.” You confirm with a nod, as you shyly avoid his gaze. “I know how important class is to you but I was really hoping you would say yes…”

“As if I could ever say no to you.” Remus scoffs.

“Careful Moony. You keep saying things like that I might just go ahead and fall in love with you.” You tease, schooling your features even though your face feels as if it’s on fire.

“Is that supposed to scare me?” Remus asks with a raised brow.

You simply grin at him before picking up another fry and dipping it in the mountain of ketchup.

“So how are you?” He asks.

“Fine.” You shrug, dipping the fry back into the ketchup absentmindedly. “Better than fine, actually.”

“You’re not in any pain?” Remus asks worriedly. “Or shortness of breath? Or coughing up flowers?”

“No. No. And no.” You answer, still dunking the fry into ketchup.

“That’s great.”

“Yeah…” You hum, fry now limp and soggy from the amount of ketchup it’s drenched in.

“But?” Remus asks, reaching over and gently grasping your wrist, stopping you from dunking the poor sliver of potato even more.

Finally realizing what you’ve been doing, you grimace at the fry before setting it back down on the plate and wiping your hands with a napkin.

“Do you think I made a mistake?” You ask softly, staring at him with wide eyes, anxious to hear his thoughts.

Remus takes a deep breath before crossing his arms and sitting back in his seat.

“Do you think you made a mistake?”

“No.” You answer immediately. “I mean, you saw me.” You remind him with a frown. “I was at death’s door. This was the best option for me. For my health. My- my chance at living!”

“Then what’s the problem?” Remus asks with a frown of his own.

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “I just… I feel off…”

“Off how?” He asks, voice filled with concern.

“I-I feel like something is missing...”

“Like…the guy…” Remus stutters nervously, sitting up in his seat. “The uh- the one who caused your hanahaki?”

“No.” You shake your head. “I knew I would forget him. I was fine with that. I am fine with that. This is something else. I don’t know what. But I know something is missing. My brain is too…quiet…”

“Quiet? Hmm… Do you think they did the surgery wrong? Did you forget more than you should have?”

“I don’t know!” You groan in frustration before letting out a long sigh. “I don’t know… Everyone worth remembering, I remember.”

“Okay…” Remus nods. “That’s good!”

You look up at him and he’s surprised to see your eyes filled with tears.

“But I feel… empty… and I don’t know why…”

“You’re crying…” Remus says softly.

“I am?” You ask, wiping under your eye and frowning when your fingertip comes back wet. “Fuck.”

Remus hands you a napkin and you take it with a grateful smile, sniffling as you dab your eyes.

“See?” You ask, balling up the napkin and tossing it on the table before pointing at your eyes. “What is this?! Why is this happening!?”

“When was your last period?” Remus asks curiously.

You glare at him and he immediately hurries to explain himself.

“PMS is a thing, Y/N! You know better than I do. Could it be that?” He suggests.

“I am not discussing my monthlies with you.” You tell him matter-of-factly. “…But it’s not that.”

“Okay.” Remus relents, holding his hands up in surrender. “Sorry I brought it up.”

“What if your emotions are trying to get regulated?” He offers instead.

“Do you think that’s possible?” You ask skeptically.

“Considering that hanahaki was thought to be eradicated this whole time and somehow you got it, I’d say pretty much anything is possible.” Remus shrugs.

“Lucky me.” You tell him, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Remus smiles sympathetically at you.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Hey Y/N?” Remus calls as you both start walking back to the castle.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

You contemplate it for a moment before eventually nodding.

“Sure.”

“Why did you ask me to Hogsmeade today?” Remus asks, eyes fixed on the ground as he walks. “I mean, without the guys.”

“Well, because I missed you…” You tell him with a nervous chuckle. “I thought that was obvious.”

“I missed you too.” He nods. “But so did Pads and Wormtail and Pr-“ He stops, cutting himself off before he could mention James.

“Well yeah,” You agree. “But that’s different.”

“How?” Remus asks curiously.

His curiosity only grows when you smile knowingly at him before facing forward and skipping ahead, leaving him behind.

“It just is.” You call over your shoulder at him with a giggle.

Remus looks at you curiously but chooses to let it go for now, hurrying to catch up with you. The last thing he wants to do is overwhelm you, so he’ll give you some time before asking all the questions plaguing his mind.

Upon entering the common room, he walks you to the staircase that leads up to the girl’s dormitories.

“Thanks for hanging out with me, Moony.” You smile at him.

“Yeah of course, love.” Remus nods with a smile of his own. “Any time.”

You gaze at him for a moment, as if you’re contemplating something before finally, taking a step closer to him. Remus watches with bated breath as you get on your tiptoes and press your lips to his cheek in a chaste kiss. Remus stands frozen, staring wide eyed at you while you take a step back, staring back at him with a shy grin.

“Okay…good night…” You tell him, turning around.

Before he even knows what he’s doing, Remus has reached forward and grabbed your wrist, stopping you from going any further. You look up at Remus in confusion, wondering what he’s doing.

“Are you sure you don’t remember him?” He asks suddenly, anxiously.

“Who?”

“Ja- the guy. The one who caused your hanahaki.” Remus stutters. “You don’t remember him? At all?”

You furrow your brows in concentration before eventually shaking your head.

“I just remember you.” You tell him with a confused smile, wondering why he’s suddenly bringing him up.

Remus continues to stare at you wordlessly, causing your confusion to grow.

“Why do you ask?” You finally ask him, head tilting to the side curiously as you watch him.

“It’s nothing.” Remus mumbles, shaking his head as he lets go of your wrist. “Sorry. Get some rest, love. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.” You nod, waving at Remus a final time before turning around and hurrying up the stairs. “Good night.”

Remus watches you climb the stairs and turn down the hall, surely going to your dorm. As soon as you’re out of sight, Remus leans against the wall, running a hand down his face.

“What are you doing, Moony?” He asks himself before finally making his way to his own dorm.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

The moment Remus exits the bathroom, James is standing right in front of him. Remus raises a brow but when James continues to silently stare at him, he walks around him to finish getting dressed.

“So?” James finally asks, following him.

“So what?” Remus asks as he ties his shoelaces.

“So how’d it go last night?”

Remus freezes, smiling softly to himself before shaking his head.

“It was fine.” He shrugs, standing up and quickly fixing his duvet.

“That’s it?” James asks with a frown, following after Remus as he crosses the room to get his backpack. “Just fine?”

“Yeah.” Remus nods, making sure he has everything he needs before closing his bag.

“What’d you guys talk about?” James continues to interrogate as they make their way out of the dorm and towards the Great Hall.

“Prongs…” Remus sighs.

“What? I can ask, can't I?” James defends. “I’m not doing it to be malicious. I’m asking as a concerned friend-“

“She doesn’t see you as a friend anymore, mate.” Sirius interrupts with a grimace.

“-who is trying to get back the woman he loves.” James continues, acting as if he hadn’t heard Sirius- though the flicker of pain in his eyes says otherwise. “So? What’d you guys talk about?”

“I don’t know, Prongs. Lots of things!” Remus shrugs.

“Yeah. But what exactly?”

“I can’t tell you.” He shakes his head.

“Why not?” James frowns.

“I just- I don’t know… Some of the things were quite personal. They were about her hanahaki and her surgery. I don’t wanna put her business out there…”

“So you’re keeping secrets?” James asks curtly. “Again.”

“I’m respecting her privacy.” Remus responds with a frown.

“Sounds like you’re keeping secrets.” James mumbles to himself.

“You can call it whatever you want.” Remus sighs. “But I already told you that I wasn’t gonna spy on her.”

“He’s right, mate.” Sirius agrees. “You shouldn’t put Moony in the middle of all this. I mean… even more than he already is.”

“It’s not spying!” James argues. “It’s simply talking to her and then sharing everything that she said with me!”

“That’s spying, idiot!” Sirius shouts.

“No it’s not.” James frowns.

“That’s literally the definition of it, Prongs.” Sirius groans.

“Okay, guys-“ Peter interjects with a nervous laugh.

“Alright, fine, whatever. Did she say anything about me?” James asks instead, borderline begging Remus to give him something, anything, even the smallest sliver of hope.

“Just that she doesn’t remember you. Like at all…” Remus tells him, smiling sympathetically. “Sorry Prongs. I specifically asked her… There’s nothing there. She- she doesn’t remember anything about you…”

“Oh…” James mumbles, staring at the ground as he walks. “Well, that’s okay…”

“It is?” Remus, Peter, and Sirius all ask at the same time.

“Yeah.” James nods, looking at his friends with a determined smile. “It’s fine that she doesn’t remember me. It’s brilliant, actually. That means we can start all over again. I can do things right this time.”

“How’re you gonna do that?” Peter asks as they finally reach the Great Hall.

“Simple. I’ll just turn on the good ol’ Potter charm.” He winks before heading towards the Gryffindor table.

“Yeah, because that’s worked out so well for him in the past.” Sirius comments sarcastically.

“I don’t buy the whole optimistically positive thing. So how’s he really doing?” Remus asks Sirius worriedly.

“Oh, you know…” Sirius trails off before sighing. “He missed lunch yesterday. And dinner.”

Remus and Peter nod with a frown.

“I finally found him in the locker rooms, and it was completely trashed… Chairs thrown across the room, pictures of past teams shattered, his broom was broken in two…”

“Merlin’s beard…” Peter curses.

“When I finally got him to stop, he broke down crying…” Sirius sighs dejectedly. “Took me ages to calm him down and even longer to get him to move. Finally managed to put him to bed around one a.m.”

The three boys look at James in concern before following after him and taking a seat, mentally preparing themselves for whatever happens next between the two of you.

You enter the Great Hall a few minutes later and scan the table, looking for your friends.

“Oi! Y/L/N! Over here!” Sirius calls, waving his arm to get your attention.

You wave back at him enthusiastically before heading towards him with a smile. You come to an abrupt stop when you see James sitting with the boys- your boys- once more.

“Y/N! Hi! Good- good morning!” James greets with a smile.

Your smile drops as you stand there, staring at him with a blank expression. James swallows, his own smile starting to waver slightly.

“Can I just take a moment to tell you how absolutely stunning you look this morning?” He asks with a flirty grin, hoping that if he over exaggerates, you won’t be able to tell how nervous he actually is.

“Ew. No.” You grimace.

Confidence shot, James looks to Sirius for help.

“We asked James to join us for breakfast this morning.” He’s quick to interject. “You don’t mind, do you?”

You look away from James, taking in the hopeful expressions on your friends faces before setting your books down with a loud thud.

“I guess not.” You mumble, sitting down and starting to fill your plate up. “It’s not like I have much of a choice.”

Again, James looks to the marauders for support. Peter doesn’t even notice, already shoveling food into his mouth. Remus gives him a sympathetic shrug of his shoulders and Sirius gives him an encouraging thumbs up.

“What?” You ask after a few minutes, voice filled with irritation.

Sirius, Peter and Remus share a confused look before turning to you.

“Wha-“

“Do you need something?” You ask coldly, putting your spoon down and staring right at James.

James stares back with wide eyes, mouth parted in shock before he shakes his head.

“Who? Me? N-no! Everything’s fi-“

“Then can you stop staring at me?” You interrupt.

“S-sorry?” James stammers. He’s choking. He wasn’t expecting to get caught staring and now he’s choking- stuttering over his words like a damn fool. “I wasn’t-“

“I can tell your eyesight is shit.” You tell him bluntly. James subconsciously adjusts his glasses. “And while I can sympathize- or at least pretend to, I’d very much like to enjoy my breakfast in peace without you burning a hole into the side of my head from how piercing your gaze is so either lower it or risk going permanently blind.”

All four boys stare at you in shock, having never heard you speak like this before, let alone to James.

“Your choice.” You shrug with a fake smile before getting back to your breakfast.

James shares an uneasy look with Sirius before lowering his gaze to stare at his plate.

“Right…Sorry.”

“You’re about to be.” You warn before taking a sip of your tea.

Beside you, Peter lets out a high pitched giggle before quickly slapping a hand over his mouth. You turn to look at him with a confused smile.

“Sorry.” He apologizes, sheepishly dropping his hand. “I laugh whenever I feel uncomfortable…”

“You’re so cute.” You coo, pinching his cheek teasingly and laughing when he pulls away from you. “Oh my god, look at how red your ears are! Aw, are you getting shy Peter?”

“Stop.” He whines, covering his ears with his hands. “Let me eat! I have a test today.”

Everyone laughs at that before Sirius changes the topic, bringing up the latest run-in he had with Snivellus.

After a few minutes you scan the table, looking for something before groaning. A napkin is suddenly thrust into your face and you pull back with a surprised frown. You raise a brow at James and he smiles.

“Did ya need a napkin?” He asks, still smiling as he holds his out to you once more.

“No.” You tell him, still frowning.

“Oh…my mistake…” He apologizes, awkwardly putting his napkin back down.

You scan the food in front of you once more before turning your attention to Remus and Sirius.

“Do you see any oranges-“ James suddenly stands from his seat and hurries a few meters down the table before grabbing an orange from the fruit bowl and hurrying back.

He holds the orange up with a triumphant grin, chest heaving slightly as he tries to calm his breathing.

“I got an orange.” He pants.

“Congratulations.” You say simply, looking at him as if he’s crazy.

“Do you want it?” He asks, sitting back down.

You narrow your eyes at him suspiciously before looking at Remus who shakes his head, finding himself just as clueless as you are about the whole situation. You turn your gaze back to James and continue to stare at him.

“It’s yours! Here. Have it.” James announces, placing the orange in front of you. As soon as you start to reach for it, he takes it back, much to your annoyance. “Actually, let me peel it first.”

“Do I look like an idiot to you?” You suddenly ask him.

The four boys look at you with wide eyes.

“Huh?” James asks, confused.

“Do I look like an idiot?” You repeat firmly, holding his gaze.

“No.” James denies, vehemently shaking his head. “Of course not!”

“Then why would you think I can’t peel it myself?”

“I-I was only trying to help…” James says softly, gently setting the orange back on the table.

“Yeah well, I didn’t ask for your help. Nor do I want it. Just like I didn’t want you to compliment me this morning. Get it through your head, creep. I don’t want anything from you.”

The boys watch silently as you stand up and start to gather your belongings.

Wordlessly, James slides the orange across the table, hoping you’ll take it, hoping you'll accept his peace offering, but knowing you won’t.

“Keep it.” You tell James harshly before letting out a tired sigh. “Just, keep it and stay the hell away from me.”

With that, you get the rest of your things and turn around, quickly making your way out of the great hall.

“Was that the Potter charm you were talking about?” Sirius asks awkwardly, if only to ease the tension.

James groans, dropping his head into his hands.

“Fuck off, Pads.”

Some people won’t like my opinion but… FUCK STEVE ROGERS

*DONT TAKE THIS SO PERSONAL ITS MY OPINION OKAY???*

I WOULDVE GONE FERRAL IF I FOUND OUT CAPTAIN AMERICA KNEW ABOUT MY PARENTS DEATH AND PRETENDED AS IF HE DIDNT KNOW. I GET THAT BUCKY WASNT HIMSELF SO HES OFF THE HOOK BUT STILL BEAT.HIS.ASS.BUT STEVE????? HE KNEW. HE FUCKING KNEW HE KNEW SO HE DOESNT HAVE AN EXPLANATION. AND THEN AT THE END IT WAS 2 AGAINST 1 AND THEYRE BOTH SUPER SOLDIERS. TONY ONLY HAD IS HALF FUNCTIONING SUIT AND THEY BOTH HAVE SUPER HUMAN STRENGTH ITS NOT FUCKING FAIR FOR TONY. FUCK CAPTAIN AMERICA. FUCK STEVE. FUCK HIM. AND TONY HAD A WHOLE ASS FAMILY AND DID A SELFLESS ACT AND SACRIFICED HIMSELF FOR THE WHOLE GODDAMN UNIVERSE BUT STEVE WAS SELFISH AND LIVED HIS LIFE AND EVEN LEFT HIS BEST FRIEND BEHIND. HE DIDNT DESERVE HIS SO-CALLED HAPPY ENDING WITH PEGGY. TONY DESERVED THAT HE HAD A WHOLE FAMILY YET HE STILL SACRIFICED HIMSELF FOR THEM. TONY DESERVED HIS HAPPY ENDING NOT STEVE.

₊˚⊹˚ 𐙚 this is awkward..

pairing: james potter x f!reader

➥ In which, you were fed up with James, deciding to put aside your pettiness you drag him away from the gryffindor party to talk to him.

Warnings: angst, fluff, james pov, this inspired by awae (aka the best show ever), r and james speaking is 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓵𝔂 inspired by gilbert confessing that he wants anne so effing bad bc he 𝓯𝔀 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝔂, lowkey dont hate me for making the “dreams” u want so like…. I just didn't know what to do bc like idk smh i set back women 50 years by that

a/n: tysm for all the love on this series!! y’all are NOT ready for the next chapter, writing it rn and 😭🙏 BUTTT tysm for 300🫶🫶 also I finished the last chapter... do y'all want me to post it today or edge y'all and post it tomorrow

series masterlist ! - divider creds: i-mmaculatus & dollywons

It was now nearing the end of the school year—even if there was still a month to go. James could now be in the same room as you without glaring daggers at whoever you were talking to. Though he told himself he was over you, he knew deep down that the feelings never faded.

He told himself it didn’t matter. He told himself he was fine. And yet, every time he caught sight of you, every time your laughter reached his ears from across the room, it was as if someone had set fire to his resolve.

He wanted to talk to you so badly it was almost pathetic. But it was like the universe itself was conspiring against him—or, more specifically, like Finn Laurier had developed some sort of sixth sense for James’s intentions.

Because every single time James gathered enough courage, every time he braced himself to walk over to you, Finn would appear out of nowhere. Whether it was in the Great Hall, the library, or even during Quidditch practice, Finn always seemed to materialize by your side at precisely the wrong moment, stealing away your attention and leaving James feeling like the outsider in his own story.

It was infuriating.

“Mate, you’re grinding your teeth,” Sirius remarked casually one afternoon as they sat under the beech tree by the lake.

James startled, realizing with some embarrassment that Sirius was right. He quickly unclenched his jaw and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Sorry,” he muttered, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’m just…”

“Just what?” Sirius prompted, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” James lied, though his voice betrayed him.

Sirius gave him a knowing look. “If this is about her again, just—”

“It’s not about her,” James interrupted quickly, though he winced as the words left his mouth. He knew Sirius wouldn’t believe him, and he wasn’t sure he even believed himself anymore.

Sirius sighed, shaking his head. “Prongs, you’re going to drive yourself mad if you keep this up. Just talk to her already.”

“I’ve tried!” James snapped, louder than he intended. He lowered his voice and added, “I’ve tried, but every bloody time, Finn shows up. It’s like he’s got a bloody tracker on her or something.”

Remus, who had been quietly reading nearby, finally chimed in. “You know, maybe you’re overthinking this,” he said, not looking up from his book.

“How could I possibly be overthinking this?” James demanded, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

“Maybe Finn’s not doing it on purpose,” Remus suggested calmly. “Maybe it’s just bad timing.”

“Bad timing?” James repeated incredulously. “Bad timing doesn’t happen this often, Moony. This is a pattern.”

Remus gave him a skeptical look but didn’t argue further.

James leaned back against the tree trunk, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. He hated how much this was bothering him. He hated how much control this entire situation had over him.

But most of all, he hated the thought that you might actually be happy with Finn.

It wasn’t that he thought Finn was a bad guy—quite the opposite, really. Finn was charming, talented, and annoyingly good at everything he did. He was the kind of guy parents adored, the kind of guy professors went out of their way to praise. And worst of all, he was the kind of guy who could make you smile in a way James had only dreamed of.

James opened his eyes, staring up at the branches overhead. “Maybe I should just give up,” he muttered.

Sirius snorted. “Yeah, right. That’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve said all day.”

“I’m serious,” James insisted.

“No, I’m Sirius,” Sirius quipped, smirking.

James groaned, throwing a small pebble in his direction. “Not the time for jokes.”

“Fine, fine,” Sirius said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “But seriously, you’re not giving up. You’re James Potter, remember? Stubborn, arrogant, never-takes-no-for-an-answer James Potter. You don’t give up on things you care about.”

James hesitated, staring at the rippling water of the Black Lake. He wanted to believe Sirius. He wanted to believe that there was still a chance, that you weren’t as far out of reach as you seemed.

But as he watched you across the courtyard later that day, standing beside Finn and laughing at something he said, James couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, it was too late.

But his doubt soon melted into something far more unsettling when he noticed your gaze shift. For the first time in what felt like forever, your attention wasn’t on Finn Laurier—it was on him.

James felt like he might throw up.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears, and his hands fidgeted with the hem of his robes as he quickly looked away. In fact, he didn’t just look away; he turned his entire body in the opposite direction, hoping to mask the flush rising to his cheeks.

“C’mon, James, you’ve got a Quidditch game to win today! Channel all that anger you’ve got towards Laurier into winning us the Cup!” Sirius said, clapping a hand on James’s shoulder with his trademark grin.

James gave a faint nod, trying to let Sirius’s words sink in. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but he had to admit—focusing on Quidditch might be better than brooding.

As the match began, Sirius’s advice started to help. Flying through the air, the roar of the crowd, and the adrenaline coursing through his veins almost made him forget the mess he was tangled in. Quidditch always had a way of making the weight on his shoulders feel lighter.

Almost.

At first, he wasn’t paying much attention to the game. His mind wandered back to you, back to everything that had gone wrong. He thought about what he would say, how he could even begin to fix things. And, like always, he couldn’t resist scanning the crowd for you.

Even in the middle of a fight, even when he swore to himself that he was done, James always looked for you in the stands.

And he found you—right where he didn’t want to.

You were sitting with Finn Laurier, your hand clasped in his. James’s stomach twisted painfully at the sight, and he forced himself to look away, though the image burned into his mind.

Of course. Finn fucking Laurier.

He sighed, his grip tightening on his broomstick. There was no point in hoping anymore. Whatever chance he’d had—if he’d ever had one—was gone now. Maybe he’d already been downgraded in your life: a friend at best, a stranger at worst. The thought stung, and James shoved it down, refusing to dwell on it any longer.

And then, something golden caught the corner of his eye.

The Snitch.

For the first time all game, James’s focus snapped into place. He leaned forward on his broom, his heart pounding—not from heartbreak this time, but from the sheer rush of competition. If nothing else, he could still win this. He could still bring home the Cup.

James shot after the Snitch with everything he had, the rush of wind against his face only fueling his determination. The crowd roared, but their voices blurred into the background. His world narrowed to one thing: the golden glimmer darting just ahead.

The Hufflepuff Seeker was hot on his trail, but James barely registered them. This was his moment. The Snitch veered sharply to the right, and James followed, his reflexes razor-sharp. He could feel the weight of his emotions—anger, heartbreak, frustration—all pouring into this chase.

The Snitch dipped low, skimming just above the grass, and James dove after it, his fingers outstretched. The Hufflepuff Seeker was closing in fast, but James didn’t care. He pushed his broom harder, faster, his body leaning forward so much it felt like he might fall off.

And then, his fingers closed around the Snitch.

The Gryffindor stands erupted into cheers, deafening and jubilant. The sound echoed across the pitch as James pulled up, the Snitch held high in triumph. For the first time all week, a genuine smile broke across his face.

He’d done it.

Back on the ground, his teammates swarmed him, yelling and celebrating as they lifted him off the ground in a flurry of hugs and pats on the back. Sirius was the loudest, of course, laughing as he shouted, “That’s my best mate! Did you see that dive? Bloody brilliant!”

James grinned, allowing himself to soak in the moment. But as the initial adrenaline rush faded, his thoughts drifted back to you.

Through the crowd, he spotted you walking toward the castle with Laurier. You looked happy—laughing at something Finn said, your hand still in his.

James’s chest tightened, the pain creeping back in.

Sirius slung an arm around his shoulders. “Oi, don’t let that git ruin your moment. You just won us the Cup, Prongs. Focus on that, yeah?”

James forced a nod, plastering a smile on his face. “Yeah. You’re right.”

But deep down, as the team carried him back to the common room, the ache lingered. Winning the match had been a distraction, but it wasn’t enough to erase what he felt for you—or the sting of seeing you with someone else.

Still, James promised himself one thing: he’d get through this. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. And who knew? Maybe, someday, you’d see him the way he saw you.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

The Gryffindor common room was a chaotic blur of red and gold, filled with triumphant cheers and laughter. The moment the team returned from the pitch, the party was already in full swing. Someone had charmed a banner to flash "Gryffindor Wins the Cup!" in shimmering letters, and butterbeer bottles floated around the room, courtesy of a cheeky charm from Sirius.

James stood in the center of it all, grinning as his teammates and housemates patted him on the back and congratulated him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to bask in the glory of the victory, letting it drown out the knot in his chest. He’d won the game, and Gryffindor had the Cup—he deserved to enjoy it.

“Prongs!” Sirius yelled over the noise, shoving a butterbeer into his hand. “You’re the man of the hour! You better milk this for all it’s worth, because Merlin knows you deserve it.”

James laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t let me hear you say that too often, Padfoot. I might start believing it.”

Sirius gave him a devilish grin. “Oh, you will. Now, c’mon, let’s make some noise!” He climbed onto a table, raising his bottle high. “To Prongs, our Quidditch hero!”

The room erupted in cheers, and James couldn’t help but laugh, taking a sip of his butterbeer as the noise washed over him. For the first time all day, he felt lighter.

As the party went on, James moved through the crowd, chatting and laughing with his housemates. But no matter how loud the celebration got, his eyes kept drifting to the door, half-hoping, half-dreading to see you walk in.

And then, you did.

James froze mid-conversation, his heart doing that familiar stutter-step it always did when he saw you. You looked radiant, wrapped in Gryffindor colors, your cheeks flushed from the cold. But his chest tightened when he noticed Laurier trailing behind you, his hand resting casually on the small of your back.

James quickly turned back to his conversation, forcing a smile and pretending not to notice. He wasn’t going to let Finn Laurier—or his own stupid feelings—ruin the night.

“Oi, Prongs,” Sirius said, appearing at his side again. “Stop moping and do something fun. We just won the bloody Cup, mate! At least pretend you’re having the time of your life.”

James forced another grin. “I am having fun, Padfoot. Loads of fun.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “You’re staring at her again, aren’t you?”

“I’m not,” James lied, taking a long sip of butterbeer.

Sirius groaned, grabbing James by the shoulders. “Look, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to stop torturing yourself, and you’re going to have a bloody fantastic time tonight. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll prank Laurier so hard he won’t know which way is up. Deal?”

James couldn’t help but laugh at that, shaking his head. “Alright, deal.”

Hours later, the party was still going strong. Someone had turned the music up, and the common room had transformed into a dance floor. James found himself dragged into the middle of it by Lily Evans, who gave him a pointed look.

“Stop sulking, Potter,” she said, smirking. “You just won the Cup. Act like it.”

“I’m not sulking,” James said, though his half-hearted smile gave him away.

Lily raised an eyebrow but didn’t press further. Instead, she tugged him into the rhythm of the music, and for a while, James let himself get lost in the moment.

It wasn’t until he caught sight of you again, laughing at something Laurier said, that the knot in his chest returned. He took a deep breath, plastered on another smile, and decided that, for tonight, he’d keep pretending.

He watched you from across the room as you and Laurier continued talking, laughter bubbling between you two. He could see the way you looked at him now—so different from the way you looked at him before. It was like there was a barrier, a wall that hadn’t been there when he first met you.

“Prongs,” Sirius appeared at his side again, his voice low and concerned. “Look, I know you’ve been through a lot, but this is ridiculous. You’re letting Laurier ruin your night—and you just won us the Cup, for Merlin’s sake. You’re allowed to be happy tonight. So go talk to her. If you don’t, I swear I’ll do it for you.”

James frowned at him, irritated. “I’m not talking to her, Pads. Not now.”

“Then at least get out of here and enjoy yourself,” Sirius pressed. “We’re celebrating, mate. You’ve earned it.”

James looked over at you one more time, and for a second, he almost gave in. But the knot in his chest was still there, tightly wound, and it made everything feel so much harder than it should’ve been.

But maybe... maybe he could find a way to feel better. Maybe he could lose himself in the celebration.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally muttered, glancing at his friends.

Sirius didn’t seem convinced but let out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, but I’m not letting you go off and brood in some corner. The whole bloody school’s celebrating with you tonight.”

James smirked faintly, feeling a little lighter. Maybe he could pretend to be okay, at least for tonight. He could let the victory, the laughter, and his friends drown out the ache for just a little while longer.

But as the night continued, and as the music played on, James found himself once again looking toward the doorway, hoping—just hoping—that you’d look his way.

For the first time in forever, the world was finally on his side as he saw you quickly leaving Finn and walking straight to him.

“May I speak to you, please?” James nodded, Dumbfounded. 

You quickly grabbed his hand and went outside the common room and into the corridors. 

You took a deep breath, your fingers twisting nervously. “James… I’ve been meaning to talk to you for a while now.”

James’s throat went dry, his pulse quickening as he struggled to find his voice. “Yeah?”

You nodded, glancing down at your hands before meeting his gaze. “I—I’m sorry.”

That wasn’t what he had expected. Of all the scenarios he’d played out in his head, an apology hadn’t been one of them.

“For what?” he asked, genuine confusion coloring his voice.

“For everything,” you said in a rush, your words tumbling out before you could stop them. “For avoiding you. I was confused—about what I did that made you ignore me. And I guess I wanted to get back at you for ignoring me, so I decided to do the same to you. And… I’m sorry for whatever happened between us that made things so weird.”

James stared at you, your vulnerability hitting him like a Bludger to the chest. His heart ached at the uncertainty in your voice.

“You don’t have to apologize,” he said quickly, shaking his head.

“Yes, I do,” you insisted, your voice firm despite the tears welling in your eyes.

“No, you don’t,” James countered, his tone soft yet resolute. “It’s not fair to put all of this on yourself. You’ve always been there for me, and I—well, I’ve been a terrible friend lately. I was practically acting like you didn’t exist.”

James faltered when he saw the blank expression on your face. Panic flickered in his chest—had he said too much?

But before he could say anything more, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him.

“Oh, James,” you murmured into his shoulder. “It’s okay. I—I was acting like you didn’t exist too, but only because you were doing it to me.”

He blinked, caught off guard, before slowly relaxing into the hug. He looked down at you, his hand instinctively reaching up to brush away a stray tear trailing down your cheek.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

You shook your head, a small, watery smile breaking through. “We’re both sorry. Let’s just… not do this anymore, okay?”

James nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Deal.”

“It feels so much better having my best friend around again.” James’ smile faltered again, he never liked the word “best friend” when it came to you, he always wanted more.

“Definitely”

You two let each other talk for what felt like hours even though it was barely fifteen minutes. He enjoyed every second though, until you brought up Finn and future plans they may include him. He couldn't believe it, when had your parents met his? He remembers your dad telling him how much he was rooting you and him to be together, now he's okay with you dating some other dude? And worst of all, your father was okay with that same dude wanting to marry his daughter? James felt like throwing up.

“Then he said that my father laid it out on a silver platter.”

“Laid... what out on a platter?”

“My future! Gave him the blessing to...to propose. I don't know what to do.”

“You told me you don’t mind being married straight after Hogwarts if you truly loved the man. That being a wife and mother... is your dream. Finn is.. nice, and both of your guys’ parents are supportive. I don't understand. What's holding you back?”

“Just… one thing.”

“What am I supposed to do? Everyone else is just... moving on, and now you’re... and I’m still... We never even... And he’s there, and you’re—Merlin, you’re never going to find someone who—” James stopped, his voice cracking. “I know that much, so how... how am I supposed to... I can’t... I— We...”

Before you could speak–a drunk Sirius somehow found you two. “Woah James you're really speaking to her? Atta boy, now, let's get back to the party, cmon, we are going to do something cool, have you heard of ....” Sirius rambled on, tugging on James’ arm to drag him back to the party.

“I’ll be off, then.” You said, voice quivering as if hesitant to leave.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

All James could think about was the previous night—the talk you two had shared. Your words, your voice, the hesitation in your eyes—it all replayed in his mind like a haunting melody. What would’ve happened if Sirius hadn’t barged in, if James had told him to leave, if he’d been brave enough to stay in that moment with you?

“I think…” James began, his voice breaking as he paced the Gryffindor dormitory, “I think she might’ve been asking if I love her. And—and I think I told her to marry someone else.”

Sirius, slouched in the chair by the window, looked stricken. “Mate…” he started, his tone heavy with guilt. “If I’d known—if I knew what was happening—I wouldn’t have gone looking for you. I—I practically ruined your chances. Merlin, I’m so, so sorry.”

James stopped pacing, running a hand through his already-messy hair. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t even know if she meant it. She said so much without really saying anything, and now I don’t know if I imagined it all.”

“‘Sure, take option two,’ when option one is all she wants for her future?” James muttered, his voice thick with frustration.

“What is option one?” Peter asked, his curiosity breaking the tension.

James scoffed, bitterness creeping into his tone. “It’s Finn, obviously.” He paused, his anger flaring. “But both their parents support it, and she told me that! Before she spilled all of that on me, we were talking and laughing like nothing was wrong. But now…” He exhaled sharply, his voice softening as he sat down on the edge of his bed. “Now it feels like I’m being asked to explain the rest of my life on a bloody ticking clock. And if I make the wrong decision, I’ve either ruined my life—or hers.”

The room fell silent. Sirius and Peter exchanged uneasy glances, while Remus seemed lost in thought, unsure of how to respond.

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

Meanwhile, you had confided in your mother about your plans the night before: to finally tell the man you truly loved how you felt. You hadn’t wanted to bring it up while you and James were laughing and enjoying each other’s company, but you knew if you didn’t seize the moment, you’d never say it at all.

What you hadn’t expected was for him to turn you down. To tell you—calmly, almost dismissively—that you should marry Finn.

Your mother was waiting for your response. You knew she expected good news, a letter confirming that you and James were finally together. Instead, you sat at your desk, penning words that left a bitter taste in your mouth.

Dear Mother,

I did what you told me to do, but I fear I shouldn’t have. We were talking just fine, and then I told him everything. I told him how I felt. And he told me to marry Finn.

Finn is lovely, yes—but he’s not James. I asked James if there was any chance for us, and he said no. At least now I have clarity on where I stand with him. And I know it sounds awful to compare Finn to James, but... maybe knowing what I know now, I can learn to be happy with Finn. Father and Finn’s family are all thrilled, after all. I don’t even want to think about what I would’ve done if James had said he felt the same.

You sighed, folding the parchment carefully and sealing it in an envelope. The weight of your words sat heavily on your chest, but you couldn’t dwell on them any longer. You needed to send this letter immediately.

Pulling on your cloak, you found yourself heading for one of the secret passages to Hogsmeade—the ones you and James had used so often. The memories stung, but you pushed them aside. This time, you’d be using the passage alone.

The quickest way to deliver your letter was through the owlery. You knew exactly which owl was the fastest.

As you walked, you let your mind wander to James one last time, allowing yourself the quiet ache of what could’ve been. You would never speak to him again, not like before. That part of your life was over.

Finn was your future now. And while it hurt to admit, deep down, you knew it was for the best.

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Eight Nights (in December)

Based on this poll, 407 of you voted, and this story is your winner!

Summary: The story of how two children and and their very handsome dad come into your life during the holiday season. Or - is it possible to fall for someone before you ever make it to date #1?

Pairing: Marc Spector x gn!reader, Steven Grant x gn!reader (Jake is mentioned)

Word Count: 7465

Content: regular fluff, domestic fluff, mentions of food, The Spector-Grant-Lockley family celebrates Hanukkah. Seasonal fun, nothing religious in this story. Fic does not indicate reader's gender, description or what, if anything, they celebrate. No use of y/n. This fic is for everyone! Not beta'd.

I named this fic after the beautiful Hanukkah song "Eight Nights" by Rosi Golan. Go listen!

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"Ask themmm."

The whisper of a child grabs your attention. You whirl around, causing the jingle bells dangling from your ridiculous hat to ring.

"Be quiet," a young girl hisses to the boy beside her, but he is not deterred.

"Ask me what?" You smile down at the adorable duo.

The little boy's eyes drop to his feet as he scuffs his foot uncertainly.

"He wants a candy cane," his sassy companion informs, folding her arms over her chest. "But I told him they're for kids going to see Santa."

"Oh. Are you guys here to see Santa?" You ask them. "Because there's a long line unless your family made a reservation. Do you want me to help you find the end of the line?"

"No," the little girl replies, tossing her mane of chocolate curls. "We don't need to see Santa. We're Jewish."

"Ohhh," you nod understandingly, kneeling down to their level. "That’s wonderful. You have eight special nights, don't you?"

The little boy's brown eyes sparkle as his long eyelashes blink up at you. "Yes, eight nights in a row, and we play dreidel and make lakkas."

"Latkes," the little girl corrects. She peers up at you as if giving you all the important info. "He always says it wrong."

You chuckle at how cute they are. They could be the same age, but the girl acts a little older. Both of them have bright brown eyes shining under thick eyebrows, olive skin and matching mops of brown curls.

"Max! Elle!" A frantic male voice calls. Their little heads snap up as a very handsome man comes jogging around the corner. As soon as he sees them, he sinks to his knees and pulls one of them into each arm. "You guys scared me." He presses a quick but fierce kiss to each of their foreheads.

"It was Max," Elle doesn't hesitate to blame, who you assume is her brother. "He's trying to ask this elf right here if he can have a candy cane. I told him it's only for kids who want to meet Santa and we aren’t here to meet Santa."

The man nods, climbing to his feet to address you.

"Sorry about that, we'll get out of your way," he apologizes, practically walking away from you already.

"No harm done." You grant him a warm smile, boldly stepping forward. "They are more than welcome to have a candy cane if it's alright with you. These are a kosher brand."

He makes a face and you wonder if you’ve overstepped. “They-they mentioned they weren’t here to see Santa - "

"Can we, Daddy? Can we have one?" Max bounces on his toes in anticipation.

"Uhhh, sure," he relents, "but any more sneaking off and we're going straight home. No carousel and no hot chocolate."

"Ooh, did you know it's so yummy to stick your candy cane in your hot chocolate?" You pipe, producing two sticks of candy for the kids.

"Really?" Elle skeptically questions. "Won't it just melt?"

"Eventually," you confirm, presenting her with a candy cane. "But not before you get the most delicious mint hot chocolate ever." Your eyes glisten with merriment because you love seeing the joy on kids' faces.

"Ooh, me, me!" Max holds out his hand to receive your offering. "I want to try hot mint chocolate."

"It's mint hot chocolate," Elle corrects.

The man regards you carefully, seeming protective of them. "Uh, guys, what do you say to this nice...elf?"

"Thank yoouuu," they dutifully chime.

Your cheeks go hot as you imagine what you must look like to this man, in elf garb. But he surprises you, mouthing a grateful 'thank you' over the kids' heads, his warm brown eyes shimmering with something kind, or at least relieved. His shoulders turn away from you, as if ready to bolt - his hands cupping the children’s shoulders as if to guide them away. But he makes an effort to be polite. 

"One more thing," you risk his indulgence a moment longer, reaching for a flier. "Have you been down to the south end of the plaza? We have a giant menorah there. We'll be lighting it next week." You lean back down to kid-level. "And we'll be passing out gelt instead of candy canes."

"Gelt?" Elle breathes in amazement, while her brother vibrates with excitement.

"Daddy, can we go? Can we go, please?"

Mr. Handsome Dad stares at you a little too long and you hope you haven’t meddled.

He gives them a warning look, but it’s warm. "We’ll see.”

"Okay," they pipe in unison.

He takes the flier you've offered and smiles sincerely, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. "Thanks again. This is..." He drags in a breath, nodding to the Christmas emporium where Santa is basically enthroned and ready to be worshiped. "This can be hard to explain. So thank you." His eyes lock onto yours and you get a really good look at how attractive he is - you can definitely see where the kids get their features.

"You're so welcome," you kindly return, offering your hand and your name. "I'm the Event Coordinator for this plaza, and the mall too."

Electricity zings up your arm, straight to your heart as he shakes your hand. It takes him an extra few moments to offer anything more. "I, uh…I'm Marc. And this is Elle and Max, my kids."

"And Steven too, and Jake!" Max excitedly informs, while Elle seems to hush him.

Marc’s gaze falters as he hugs his children closer. "Uh, thanks again. I really appreciate it. Say 'bye', guys."

"Byeeee," they cutely chorus, chomping happily on their candy canes as they scurry away. 

Whew.

He is...really handsome and those kids? The three of them must be someone's holiday wish come true. 

Oh well, back to work, overseeing the Santa line.

You've worked with the mall for years, but once this newer shopping plaza opened, you jumped at the job opportunity. The outdoor shopping, variety of restaurants, and high end stores attract tons of business. Even the families unable to afford some of the shops bring their kids to the play areas and the events you plan and coordinate each month.

It’s important that people feel welcome here. You just finished up a kids' Diwali event last week. Santa arrived to govern all of December, and Hanukkah is coming up quick. Those are just a few of the many wonderful events you champion.

Convenient, since the menorah lighting is about to change your life.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Marc tucks his children into bed, his mind preoccupied by the events of the evening. Max and Elle wandered away from him for just a couple of minutes, almost sending him into a full panic. They were prone to do this, always one of them blaming the other. Sometimes he got so worried that Steven or even Jake had to resolve the situation. 

The worry is most acute when it reminds him of Randall, who loved to do the same.

He should have known one or both of them would be enchanted by the Santa Claus display. What child wouldn’t be? He found it sweet, however, when he realized they were only in search of a candy cane.

Which led them to you. Marc’s every instinct is to protect his children from anyone new. They’ve been through enough. Their mother passed when they were babies and since then, Marc, Steven and Jake have worked like hell to provide a safe and stable environment for them. This includes individual and family therapy, and one hell of an amazing nanny: Esperanza. 

Jake particularly loves the influence of their sixty-year-old nanny on the children. She’s kind but firm, resourceful, a great cook, and she helps him teach the children Spanish. 

Venturing back to the kitchen to pour himself a drink, Marc notices your flier resting on the kitchen counter. No way this kind invitation will be overlooked by his daughter. She never misses a thing, just like her mom.

His first instinct is always to withdraw and he wants to now. Maybe Steven will be up for taking the kids out to the menorah lighting. 

But there’s something about you…

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

"Look, right there!"

You hear your name called several days later. Two fireballs scurry toward you, wrapped adorably in winter gear, brown curls poking carelessly out of their matching hats.

“Guys, slow down,” Marc calls after them hopelessly. Something resembling a groan mixed with a chuckle rumbles out of him as he catches up.

“Heyyy, it’s Max and Elle, right?” You question, smiling warmly down at them before gazing at their dad. “And Marc?”

“They remember, I told you they would remember,” Elle pipes. 

Max ignores her, stepping close and speaking softly. “Where’s your elf hat?”

You exchange glances with Marc. “I left it in Santa land since we’re here to light the menorah.”

“The nine candle menorah is special for Hanukkah. It’s called a chanukiah,” Elle informs, as she seems prone to do regularly.

“You are absolutely right,” you agree with her, glancing back at her dad. “So smart.”

“Oh, she won’t let you forget it,” he quickly replies, although his eyes glow with adoration. 

You kneel down to talk to the kids. “Who wants to help light the shamash candle?”

Both kids excitedly volunteer but you see Elle take a step back. “It’s okay. You can let Max do it. You probably only need one kid, right?” She asks, brown eyes wide and pleading.

“If it’s okay with your dad, I could use the extra help.” All three of you wait for Marc to answer.

“Fine with me,” he shrugs. The kids are the reason he paced his room for a half hour, mustering up the gumption to bring them tonight. They might as well enjoy the event.

The kids cheer and you take them over to the gigantic menorah, which elicits an excited clap and cheer from each of them. 

A decently sized crowd gathers to hear a blessing and get ready for the lighting. The wonder on Max and Elle’s faces immediately reminds you how important it is to include as many people as possible in events, and also sponsor non holiday themed events for those who don’t celebrate.

After the beautiful but brief ceremony concludes and the appropriate torches are lit, a fire truck pulls up, dazzling the kids with a horn honk and flashing sirens.

“Who’s ready for the gelt drop?” A local firefighter calls out to the kids, who jump up and down excitedly. 

Marc groans but can’t help but chuckle as he jogs after his two little firecrackers, hoping they will appropriately accept a piece or two of gelt rather than beg for the whole bag or start climbing up the fire truck’s ladder. 

If it’s up to Elle, she’ll somehow activate the siren or drown every member of the gathered crowd with the hose.

You watch as the firefighters “sprinkle” gelt from the top of the fire truck, amused at the children’s antics.

Marc, Elle and Max find you several minutes later, proudly carrying a stash of chocolate goodness in the holiday bags provided.

“I foresee a trip to the dentist in their future,” Marc jokes, one arm slung around each of their small shoulders.

What a sight these three are. Such a gorgeous little group and so sweet, you can hardly stand it.

“Daddy, the firefighters said we could look at the truck, so can we please go back now?” Elle begs, wrigging free of his protective grip.

“Nooo, we gotta say thanks first,” Max dutifully pipes. 

The children thank you, leaving their father holding their hats, scarves and bags of candy.

He sheepishly chuckles, shifting all the items to one arm. “I thought it would be such a relief to get rid of the diaper bag when they got old enough,” he explains, “but I still end up holding all their stuff anyway.”

“They are so cute,” you can’t help but tell him. “And smart. You must be really proud of them.”

“I am,” he sincerely agrees. “They’re my whole world.”

Your heart melts as his fatherly gaze lingers on them a little longer, just to make sure they’re safe.

Finally, he tears his eyes away and meets your own, only for a moment, before flickering away. “Thank you again, so much, for this. My kids have been looking forward to it for days. They, uh…they couldn’t wait to see you again.”

“Me?” You ask, astonished and hesitant to admit you’d spent the last few days dwelling on thoughts of the three of them too. “I was so glad you guys could come out tonight. I was hoping you would.”

Marc blinks over at you, seeming surprised. Maybe even pleased. “You…have kids?” He flinches at his own question. Probably too personal. 

“Me? No. No, I…I would love to. But…not yet,” you somewhat vaguely answer. “Just haven’t found myself in that place…if that makes sense?”

Probably too much information to explain how your ex-fiance finally admitted he never wanted kids just a few months before your wedding…

“It makes sense,” he agrees. “You’re ready when you’re ready. And sometimes it happens before you’re ready.”

“Oh, I’m ready,” you accidentally blurt, immediately feeling your face warm at your overshare. “Sorry. I, um…it’s a long story.”

“It’s okay,” he sympathizes, feeling the slightest bit of warmth bloom inside him. You’re kind. So he tries. “It’s…nice…to talk to another grownup. My five and six year old are great company but…this is nice.” He swallows, a very serious wrinkle appearing between his dark eyebrows. You believe him, but the words almost seem difficult for him to express. 

“It’s nice for me too, really.” You grant him a genuine smile. “I guess I thought Max and Elle might be twins,” you add, glancing over to where the kids are climbing all over the fire truck.

“They may as well be,” he explains. “They’re twelve months apart. Elle is older - I’m sure you could tell that. And Max was an even bigger surprise than Elle. Love ‘em though. So glad I have ‘em.”

“They’re wonderful,” you gush, thrilled that he seems to have warmed to you some. “I think children are such a blessing.”

“They definitely think they are,” Marc jokes, the wrinkle between his eyebrows softening.

It doesn’t take the kids long to bound back over, bursting with news about how great the firetruck is.

You remind them of the free hot chocolate, but Elle informs you Marc is taking them to the Spaghetti Barn. The name sounds rustic or contradictory at best, but it’s actually a popular place.

“Daddy,” Max asks, blinking up at his father while pulling on the sleeve of his navy blue coat. “Can they come with us? To eat spaghetti in the barn?”

Marc’s eyes dart over to you apologetically. “Oh, um…”

You feel bad for putting him on the spot. And you do need to wrap up the event, despite the feeling inside you drawing you to this little family.

“Oh, it’s okay - “

“You’re more than welcome to - “ 

You and Marc speak at the same time, a bit flustered as four brown eyes and chubby cheeks peer up at the two of you expectantly. 

Elle is uncharacteristically quiet, but Max reaches for your hand. “You’ll please have spaghetti with us? It’s really good and they have bread too.”

Chewing on your lip, you bend over a little. “I think you guys might have some family time planned. I don’t want to intrude on that.”

“You’re not,” Elle finally chimes, sounding much older than her six years. “Daddy wants you to, right, Dad?”

Marc shifts from foot to foot, handing the kids back their piles of winter gear and candy. “You guys go thank the firefighters for me, okay? I’ll be right there.”

Elle seems to understand what’s happening - that she’s being sent away so the grownups can talk. Reluctantly, she helps her brother with his hat and drags him away. 

“I’m sorry - "

“Sorry about that - "

You both start again.

“Uh, you first,” you decide, your cheeks going warm for about the hundredth time since you met Marc.

“Look,” he starts, focusing in on you. His hands are free now and his eyes find yours once more. “I know you’re working right now, and…we’re strangers to you. It’s okay. You don’t have to say yes to my kids.”

“Oh…” you start to say, disappointment creeping into the center of your chest. 

“But,” he goes on, stepping closer to you, “We would love to have you join us, if you're free, and…if you want to.”

“Really?” You breathe, feeling a smile brighten your face. “I would absolutely love to.”

“Yeah?” He returns, smiling back at you. “Okay. Good.” He glances around, noticing a crowd gathering at the hot chocolate table. “Need some help here first?”

It takes you over a half hour to conclude the menorah lighting event and walk over to the Spaghetti Barn. Thankfully, Marc called ahead, so, despite the line going out the restaurant door, you only have to wait about ten minutes for your table for four.

As you eat and laugh and share with this little family, they burrow under your skin and seep into your heart, one laugh at a time. By the end of dinner, you realize you’re crazy about all three of them.

The thing is, you still have no idea if Marc is in a relationship, and, after Max mentions this Steven several more times, you wonder if he’s the other half of the team raising these kids. The name Jake also comes up again, but Marc changes the subject and never elaborates.

The only female name mentioned is Esperanza, but Elle is quick to clarify that she is their nanny.

At any rate, they seem like a wonderful family, so you invite them back to the plaza for another event. Only this one is a volunteer event, packaging toys and toiletries for children who need them. 

They both enthusiastically agree, but, as usual, nothing gets past Elle. “Will Hanukkah be over before then?” She turns to you. “I want you to come over and eat latkes with us.”

“Yeah, and play dreidel!” Max adds.

“Guys, calm down,” Marc mildly warns. “Let the grownups decide what our plans are, okay?”

You find yourself walking them to their car, waiting as Marc tucks them into the back seat before shutting the door.

“Sorry again about my very blunt children,” He chuckles, seeming more relaxed with you now.

“It’s okay, I really don’t mind,” you assure him. “I had such a great time tonight. It was so sweet of you to invite me along. And don’t worry about what they said, I understand. I don’t want to step on any toes at home. I hope I’ll see you guys at the next event.”

“You’re not, you know,” Marc assures you, boldly easing closer to you. “You’re not stepping on any toes. I promise.”

“Right, okay,” you whisper, swiping your tongue over your lips because you suddenly feel thirsty. “Just wasn’t sure who might be waiting for you at home.”

There. You said it. He would have to be an idiot to not recognize the blatant are you single? question you just posed. 

The corner of his mouth curls knowingly. His social reservations aside, he knows how to talk to a someone when he wants to. “It’s just the three of us. No one else.”

You swallow, nodding quickly. 

“I have to be honest though,” he smoothly intones, his smirk making his dark eyes twinkle. “I burn the damn latkes every time.”

You burst out laughing and he joins you, the corners of his eyes crinkling in merriment. 

“I’ll consider myself warned,” you tease back.

This leaves the two of you on the edge of…something. You’re not sure if you’ve actually been invited over to his home, and you can tell there’s something in him that’s closed off somehow. Maybe it’s this Steven? Or maybe it’s the mother of his children.

Whatever it is, he gives into it because the wrinkle between his eyebrows returns, he withdraws, and the two of you part ways without any plans to meet up further. 

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Marc Spector is something else. He’s a beautiful man - that much is obvious. He’s rigid and there’s something stern in his countenance. But one look at those children and he shimmers.

You find yourself tossing and turning in bed, replaying your magical night together. The children’s eyes twinkling as they soaked in your attention, their little curls bouncing as they chattered away animatedly. 

The candlelight reflected in Marc’s matching eyes - the way the corners of his eyes would crinkle when his children made him laugh was stunning. The slight struggle as he attempted to be firm with them, but hesitated to speak to them with anything except gentleness. 

Whatever there is to know about this man, you want to discover it. You’ll get a chisel or a shovel and dig and excavate until you find the gems that assuredly lay buried inside.

But you’re getting ahead of yourself. You don’t even know who this Steven is…

Until, two days later, you do. 

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Thankfully, you do see the kids at the next event only a couple nights later. But Marc isn’t with them.

Well, he is, but…he’s not Marc.

Max runs up and throws his arms around you before tugging insistently on your sleeve. “This is my dad Steven.”

“You’re not supposed to say it like that,” Elle huffs, holding onto…not Marc’s hand.

Max pouts for a moment, but their dad steps forward and extends his hand. “Not sure if Marc told you but…we’re a system. I’m Steven,” he announces in a lovely British accent. His brown eyes sparkle with warmth and openness. His dark eyebrows arch with curiosity and he shakes your hand with fervor. 

“It’s called DID,” Elle informs. “But we’re totally normal, right, Dad? And honest too.”

“Oh god, sorry,” Steven quickly apologizes, his long lashes kissing his cheeks as he blinks, flustered. “Em…it’s a pleasure to meet you. I know you’ve met our children.”

“Yes, I have,” you beam at the kids, a little confused, but thrilled to see them nonetheless. “Max and Elle helped light the shamash candle for the menorah. They did an awesome job.”

Max tugs on Steven’s gray jacket, his soft voice as sweet as a tinkling bell. “See, Daddy, I told you they’re so nice.”

“Thank you, Max,” you chuckle. You gaze into the eyes of this man whose face you think about all too often, but is completely new to you at the same time.  “Steven, it’s very nice to meet you. Your children are wonderful.”

“What do you two say to that, then?” He prompts, with an arm around each of their shoulders. 

“Thank you,” they dutifully chime.

Steven offers to get to work, helping box toys and toiletries for children in need. You help everyone get organized, promising to check back on them soon. Once you get a free moment, you meander back their way, noticing the stark differences in the way Marc and Steven hold themselves. 

Steven’s shoulders are a bit hunched and his clothes are…colorful. His gray coat covers a vibrant, patterned sweater and his scarf is another print entirely. You’ve only met Marc twice but he was all neat solids and neutrals, with styled, kempt hair. Steven’s curls carelessly tumble across his forehead, and you try not to stare as he continuously pushes them aside while leaning over to speak to his children. 

Where Marc hangs back and lets the kids take the lead, Steven jumps right in and the children gladly follow. His eyes scrunch with laughter as he entertains the kids, pantomiming some sort of story with the items about to be boxed.

You almost hesitate to approach them, content to observe how good he is with them, like Marc, but in a vastly different way. 

He’s apparently telling a story so riveting now, that several other children have paused their box-packing tasks to listen to him explain. You creep closer and hear him relaying something fascinating about ancient Egypt.

“Did the ancient Egyptians have Santa Claus?” One girl questions.

“They do now,” Steven answers her, “for those who celebrate - he’s called Baba Noel. But in ancient Egypt, there was a celebration for the birth or rebirth of the sun god…” He rambles on for another minute before he catches you watching. 

“Alright, back to work, you lot,” he pretends to scold, with a sly wink your way. “No hot chocolate for slackers.”

He catches you giggling and shrugs his shoulders, smiling sheepishly.

The event finishes up and everyone enjoys some piping hot chocolate. You’ve found it’s one of the cheapest freebies to give out at winter events. Max and Elle play for a few minutes with the other children and Steven makes his way to you.

“Wonderful event you’ve organized here,” he compliments, pulling his fidgeting hands to the center of his chest. 

“Thank you,” you beam, thrilled to have his attention. “This is a great turnout. Thanks so much for bringing Max and Elle to help.”

“Oh, couldn’t keep ‘em away even if I tried,” he confesses, gazing at you openly. “Don’t know if a day has passed where they didn’t talk about you…if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Thank you for saying that. They’re so sweet.” You wonder if Marc talks about you too. You make a mental note to dive head first into DID research tonight. 

Speaking of which. “I’m sorry if em…well, if you were expecting Marc tonight,” Steven apologizes sincerely. “Can’t always tell who’s gonna be around. I hope it’s alright.”

Before you can answer, he barrels on. “Sorry if it’s strange, me not being him - "

“Steven, no, there’s no need to apologize for who you are.” You may not be an expert on DID but you’re not about to make anyone feel uncomfortable in their own skin. “To be honest, I was wondering about you.”

Steven holds your gaze, his eyes wide and unblinking. “About me?”

“Yes,” you smile sweetly at him. “Max kept mentioning your name. At first I thought you must be Marc’s partner.”

“His partn - oh,” Steven laughs and the sound of it makes your insides sing. “You mean like…”

“I wasn’t sure,” you supply, offering him an out from speculating aloud. “He also mentioned Jake? And your nanny Esperanza.”

“Yes,” he laughs, “Sounds like a full house when you say it like that. But it’s really just us and the kids.”

Your eyes travel over to where the children are playing. “They adore you. You’re so good with them.”

“I do try. Always wanted kids,” Steven replies, gazing at his little loves as if they are the wondrous treasures of Egypt in the story he was just telling the children. 

“Me too,” you find yourself mindlessly replying, your eyes regarding them longingly. 

Steven turns to you, seeing an opening. “You know…our daughter insists that you need to eat latkes with us. And our son thinks you can help him win the dreidel game.”

“They did mention it,” you slowly answer, wondering if this is an actual invite to their home.

He studies you closely, as if trying to gauge what you might think of him, or of his quasi-invitation. His gaze is warm and open. “I know it can be a lot. The way we are, I mean. We’re used to it, but it’s a bit different.” His eyebrows shift hopefully. “Would it be alright if I gave you my number? You could think about it and let me know. Sorry if that’s like too forward. I don’t mean - "

“No, Steven, it’s okay.” Immediately reaching for your phone, you unlock it. After you exchange numbers, he sends you a quick text.

'Hi, it’s me Steven, with a V - the bloke standing right in front of you.'

You giggle and text back, ‘Hi Steven with a V, I’m really glad I have your number.’

You feel like a teenager again. 

You and Steven text several more times through the night, after you’re home and reading multiple articles on DID. 

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The next morning, you get a text from Marc.

‘Sorry I missed you last night. Steven says you might come over to watch me burn some latkes. - M’

Then a follow-up text, ‘We share a phone, so we sign our texts. Sorry, I understand if it’s a lot.’

Your heart somersaults, knowing that Marc is really inviting you over.

‘Please don’t apologize, I’m so glad you texted. I would love to come over if you’re sure it’s okay.’

You and Marc text all day long and you can hardly contain your excitement to see him and the kids. You feel so nervous to be entering their home, almost as if this is an audition of sorts. Drawing a deep breath, you relax and try to remember to be yourself. 

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“It’s time, they’re here!” You hear the kids chanting through the other side of the door. You hear a shuffle, then a bossy, “Move!” followed by, “Come on, guys.” Finally, the door opens.

“Hi,” Marc greets you, wearing an apron with a vegan pun on it. You think it’s Marc anyway. His hair looks a little Steven-ish. Then again, you’ve only met Steven once and Marc twice. Your heart melts at the sight of flour on his cheek and the two little ones trying to break free of his grip and tackle you.

“Hey you guys,” you beam, bouncing a little on your toes.

“Uh, come on in,” Marc invites, dragging his littles a few steps back to give you some space. 

Marc releases the kids, warning them to take it easy on you. They leap into your open arms and you’re sure your heart might explode.

“Happy Hanukkah,” you warmly greet them.

“We were getting the lakkas ready,” Max whispers against your cheek, while Elle toys with your scarf. She forgets to correct him, happy to have some TLC for the moment.

Marc instructs the children to let you breathe. They unwillingly release you and that’s when you realize they are both wearing little matching aprons with their names embroidered on them. Max’s reads: ‘Max: chef in training’ and Elle’s says: ‘Head chef’. You compliment their attire before Marc sends them back to the kitchen so he can greet you properly.

“Sorry for the ambush. How are you?” His words are tinged with an air of uncertainty. As if he knows you shared a night with his family, but not him.

And now you’re in his home, frankly, at Steven’s invitation. He swallows - seems to be a habit of his, and the usual wrinkle appears between his stunning brown eyes.

A navy sweater shows off his broad shoulders and you lick your lips at the way he’s pushed his sleeves up to his elbows, revealing the musculature of his forearms.

“I’m good,” you finally answer him, pulling off your scarf and coat, hoping he hasn’t caught you staring. “Happy Hanukkah.”

“Thanks,” he nods at your attire, taking your winter gear from you to hang it up. “You look incredible.” 

“Oh, thanks - sorry, I - “ You glance down at your leftover work attire. You rushed to get here. Thankfully, you dress nicely for work, when you’re not donning elf garb, but… “I guess I’m a little overdressed.”

Maybe there is something guarded in Marc Spector, but he knows perfectly well how to respond to attraction. 

“Come on, I’ve got just the thing.” The corner of his mouth curls as he nods his head toward the kitchen. Following along behind him, you wet your lips at the sight of him from behind - the bits the apron does not cover. Mmm. 

In the kitchen, you find Elle waiting for you with a watermelon print apron. 

“We all have to wear them” she informs. Marc simply shrugs, pointing to her apron, as if indicating that she is indeed the head chef. 

The four of you get to work making the yummy potato pancakes. The kids want to wedge themselves on either side of you, but Marc’s not having it. In fact, he hovers rather close to you in an almost protective way. Maybe he’s worried his children might be overbearing or - if you could be so lucky - maybe he wants to be close to you.

He stands beside you at the countertop and tells the kids they can take turns on your other side. 

“I’m the one who invited them,” he argues. 

“Nah-uh, Steven did!” Max refutes.

“No, I did,” Elle corrects. “I asked first, so I should get to stand there.”

Marc bumps your shoulder and flashes you a grin. “Glad you came?”

You chuckle, trying to remember the last time this many people wanted your attention outside of work.

“I am,” you softly reply, reaching for a paper towel. “Here, let me just…” You wet your lips, hesitating before brushing the flour from his cheek.

The heat of his breath tickles your hand, prompting you to linger as his eyes find yours.

“We already chopped the onions so Daddy wouldn’t cry in front of you,” Elle pipes, gathering a bowl of chopped onions from the fridge. 

You and Marc quickly snap out of your brief trance.

“I think you mean we chopped them because you guys think they stink,” Marc wryly corrects, glancing at you. 

Max tugs on his father’s apron, his soft voice such a contrast to his sister’s. “Daddy, Jake chopped them, right? So we should say, ‘thank you Jake’ for chopping up the stinky onions that make Dad cry. Right?”

Marc chuckles, ruffling his son’s hair. “Yes. Thank you, Jake.”

Before he can try to explain, Elle’s already taking the lead, as she does. “Jake is our dad too. Like Steven. But when they’re not here we can just say their names. Right, Dad? But we call them Dad if they’re here.” She gets a silly idea in her head and starts to giggle. “Right, Marc? What if we call you Marc all night?”

Max, ever following after his sister, catches the giggles from her and chimes in, “Hello, Marc, is it time to make the lakkas, Marc?”

The children are snorting by now, but Marc narrows his eyes. “That’s it. You’re going in the blender, little girl, come here!”

She laughs out a, “Daddy, no!” as Marc scoops her up and spins her around in a circle. 

“That’s right, we’re going to blend you up instead of the potatoes and onions.” He winks at Max. “Should I turn the blender on high? Blend her up really good?”

“Yes, blend her on high!” Max chortles, jumping up and down as Marc spins his daughter faster.

Laughing hysterically, she begs him to stop. He doesn’t go too far before he sets her safely down, making sure she’s not too dizzy.

“Daddy, can I go in the blender?” Max pleads, bounding over to his father. 

“Not right now, bud,” Marc answers, hands on his knees as he leans down to the little one’s level. “Dad needs a breather and we have to get the real food into the food processor.”

Chuckling, he straightens up, finding your gaze - your beaming smile - just the essence of you has a gravitational pull and Marc finds himself behaving in ways he would normally only reserve for his children at home.

Which he is, but still…the warmth you radiate soothes him. As sure as he notices it, however, he clears his throat and takes a step back. 

“Sorry, we get a little silly when we cook.” Despite his fun, unguarded moment just now, he can’t find it in him to look away, holding your gaze steadily as he runs his hand over the sexy stubble on his chin.

You drag in a ragged breath, struggling to remember, for only a moment, that children are in the room with you. Somehow, this holiday season, you’ve managed to unearth a gem. You feel certain he’s wounded in some way - that he must see himself as damaged. The subtle body language as he reaches out with warmth and instantly withdraws. The pinch of worry between his eyes. The way his eyes darken and slide to the side when he shows vulnerability. 

Only, he can’t hide it around his children. They’re his tether. He must have some loss in his past - surely, these children had a mother, or a co-parent at some point. It’s possible Marc used a surrogate and they’ve always lived this way, but you can feel the hesitation: sense something brewing between the two of you, only with the slightest dark cloud hanging overhead.

Maybe it’s Steven, or Jake, but Steven seems wonderful, and Jake chopped the onions ahead of time for goodness’ sake.

The urge to soothe whatever raw nerve is left exposed, or comfort whatever tenderness might linger from long ago propels you forward, boldly fixing your eyes on his.

“Don’t be sorry. This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”

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Fortunately, the latkes don’t burn and the four of you sit down and enjoy them, sampling them with sour cream and applesauce. 

Max is over the moon to play dreidel and fortune smiles on him. He wins several rounds, but Marc limits the amount of gelt actually consumed. 

“You guys have had enough gelt and hot chocolate to last three Hanukkahs,” he warns. 

Soon enough it’s bedtime and Elle is already asking Marc if you can help tuck them in.

You immediately step in, not wanting to put their father in an awkward position with such an intimate request. It’s one thing to be invited over for food and games, but bedtime is a level you’re perfectly aware you haven’t reached yet.

“Actually, your dad can help you with that, because I’m on dish duty,” you decidedly inform. “But I’ll take a goodnight hug, if you’re up for it.”

Elle seems a little pouty but hugs you anyway, and Max seems thrilled with the way the night has gone. 

Marc sends them on ahead, lingering to speak with you. “Don’t worry about the dishes, I’ll do them in the morning. Just give me a few minutes…okay?”

“It’s okay, I got it,” you smile warmly at him. “Take your time.”

Several minutes later, you’ve loaded the dishwasher and are searching for the dish soap when Marc makes it back from the kids’ bedroom.

“Thank you for this,” he tells you, finishing up the task and powering on the machine. 

Feeling as if you’ve sampled a slice of his domestic life - washing his dishes, searching under the sink for detergent, noticing brands of cleaners and a plant watering pot - his reentry into the kitchen makes you prickle with anticipation. 

“You’re so welcome, thank you for inviting me.” Your eyes dip as you attempt to not gush too much. “I haven’t done anything like this in forever. Not outside work anyway.”

Marc folds his arms over his chest, leaning his weight against the countertop as he regards you with interest. There are secrets behind those deep, eternal eyes. You want to know every one of them.

“Well, I couldn’t tell - you’re a natural,” Marc compliments, hitching his thumb toward the coffee maker. “Want some? Or tea? Or something stronger?” His eyebrows shoot up teasingly.

Your insides warm as you realize he’s inviting you to stay longer - just the two of you. Possibility blooms within your chest as you consider having his undivided attention. 

You opt for tea and Marc offhandedly comments that Steven is actually the tea expert, Brit that he is. And this somehow feels important to you that Marc speaks about his alter so freely with you.

He seems relaxed now, which soothes you. Admittedly, you wondered if he would button up once the children were no longer influencing the atmosphere. 

You and Marc settle onto the couch - he’s nursing a beer and you have ginger peppermint tea with a spoonful of honey. Marc puts The Cure on the record player, but keeps the volume low. “This okay?” He sweetly asks, alluringly volleying between his clear ability to talk to someone he's interested in, and his more somber nature. 

“Mm-hmm, thanks for asking me to stay.” You watch as he cozies into the couch’s corner, navy sweater fitting him perfectly, complementing dark gray pants. He seems peaceful in his domain.

Time to be bold. “I was hoping you would…ask me to stay.” You slide a little closer to him, really needing to…connect to him somehow - just the two of you.

Your eyes meet, but it seems he wants to clear the air. He shifts in his seat, wetting his lips as if concentrating on how this all needs to go. 

“So, uhm, Steven told me about the charity event,” he says slowly, glancing away. “He said Elle was…pretty blunt about…well, us.”

You can tell this is the elephant in the room, at least to Marc. The familiar wrinkle appears between his eyes, he chews the corner of his lip and reaches for his beer bottle, chugging down a bit more.

“I think Elle tells the truth and that’s a remarkable quality,” you diplomatically answer.

Taking another drink, he nods as if he’s made up his mind about something. “I’m not like them. Steven, or Elle. Max, even. I’m still…I just don’t…”

“Hey, it’s okay,” you let him know. “You don’t owe me some sort of explanation. I just want to get to know you…if you want.”

The confession rushes out of you and you suddenly wish you had a cold drink instead of a warm one. Is it too soon to wish you were climbing across his lap to seal your mouth to his?

Staring at the floor for a moment, you see his leg bouncing and wonder if you’ve made him feel uncomfortable in his own home.

“You know, this isn’t how I saw our first…night together going,” he carefully admits. “Sometimes my kids don’t understand that they don’t have to do everything I do, all day every day.”

You nod understandingly. “What did you see then? For our first…whatever this is?” You peek over your teacup, longing brewing inside you.

“I don’t know - dinner, maybe?” He takes his final swig of beer and sets his bottle down on the end table beside him. Running his hand over this stubble on his chin, he gestures animatedly between the two of you “I wanted to ask you out for real, just us.”

“Willing and able,” you tease, giving him a mock salute. “Just say the word.” Ugh, why are you such a dork…

Marc regards you with interest, his dark eyebrows shifting as he studies you. Leaning toward you, he rests his elbows on his knees. “I’m not always good at this. Kids broke the ice, I think.”

The mention of those little firecrackers lights up your countenance. 

“I’m glad they did, Marc.” If he’s trying to gauge your interest, you want to make it perfectly clear that he is definitely your cup of tea. “Or we wouldn’t be here…would we?”

He inches closer. “Haven’t done this in a long time,” he offers an apologetic shrug.

Setting your tea down on the table in front of the couch, you slide closer to him. “You mean, had someone meet the kids?”

One finger carefully reaches out to brush your wrist. “I mean…a date. At all.” 

By now your shoulders are touching, side-by-side on the couch, with your bodies angled toward one another’s, leaning in. Warmth seeps from his navy sweater through your work shirt to your arm.

“Me either,” you confess, clearing your throat. “I’m pretty rusty.”

“You’re serious,” he scoffs, almost playfully nudging your shoulder with his. “You?”

“Yeah, me,” you confirm, nudging him right back. 

The finger bold enough to trace over your wrist pauses. Dark eyebrows shift curiously. Then all his fingers wrap around your wrist - the small motion seeming to envelop and warm your entire being.

“We need some practice then,” he decides, almost nonchalantly, his gaze falling to your mouth. His gaze lingers there indulgently before his impossibly long lashes blink and his warm brown eyes find yours again. “Maybe this weekend? No kids allowed.”

The corner of his mouth curls temptingly.

How far gone is it possible to be before a first date?

*ೃ༄ The end?

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Thank you to the moots who listened to me whine about this storyyyy ILY

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