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colormepurplex2 · 3 months

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Now I'm Yours | Feel It In Your Soul

↳ Alpha!Jungkook x Omega!f.Reader ⤜ A/B/O, Established Relationship/Mates ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 6,697 ⚠️ Vulgar language, fingering, knotting, creampie, discussion of violent acts, fighting/physical altercation, alpha challenge, knife violence/attack, blood, injury, bond sex, dick licking/oral, slick eating, biting/marking, blood/wound licking, surprise pregnancy

A/N: Read Make You Mine, the first installment of this series, here!

⇽Previous Chapter ◅ Back to story masterlist

When you meet Jungkook’s family in the garage the next morning, the sun isn't even up yet. His parents are waiting next to the large SUV that’s idling by the open door when you enter through the side entrance from the laundry room.

After a hasty shower, you threw on jeans and a t-shirt and are now helping Junghyun load the back of the vehicle with a few boxes from the storage room. The tops of the boxes are labeled with various things, mostly boasting medical supplies or nonperishable foodstuffs.

“Did Jungkook say why he wanted us to bring all of this stuff?"

Junghyun looks up at you from under his brow as he bends over to retrieve the next box, his glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. “Donations. We’re going to be close to The Sanctuary, and we try to donate once a quarter if we’re able.”

This is the first you’ve heard of the Jeons donating to The Sanctuary. You’re intimately familiar with the place. It’s exactly what it sounds like: a sanctuary for abused or neglected omegas and their children. Mari was one such omega, cast aside by her original pack when she didn’t match with any of the alphas within it. It wasn’t until Roland, having just taken over as pack Alpha of your old pack, started up his own annual donations to The Sanctuary that he met Mari. Your old pack made at least a donation every six months after that, helping as many omegas and children as possible.

It’s not that you wouldn’t think the Jeons are a pack that would help those less fortunate; you’d just not given it much thought, considering you grew up thinking they were run by power-hunger alphaholes. Not that Jungkook isn’t an alphahole, he’s just…maybe not as bad as you once thought—even without the rose-tinged view you have of him now from being your mate.

The duel is taking place on neutral territory, which happens to be an old warehouse that’s been converted into a performance theatre in the entertainment district of the central city. The warehouse was renovated a few decades ago by the council when enough of the surrounding packs hounded them for a space to meet en masse.

It’s about three hour's drive, the view filled with the sun peeking over the mountains and trees with their leaves changing in preparation for winter. You sit in the passenger seat, head resting against the window while you try not to stress too much over the events of the next twenty-four hours.

“Come on, dear,” the soft voice of Jungkook’s mother drags you from your rumination. She’s leaning through the gap between the front seats, her hand lightly squeezing your shoulder. “We’re here.”

You hadn’t even realized the vehicle had stopped and that Junghyun and Jungkook’s father had gotten out already.

“Sorry,” you mutter, popping open the door and sliding out.

She meets you along the side of the SUV, a concerned look pinching her brow. “Are you feeling okay?”

Now that she mentions it, you are feeling a bit off-kilter. Though, it’s probably just the nerves. “Just worried, that’s all,” you explain, pressing a hand against your stomach.

“Did you skip breakfast?” she asks, hooking her arm around your other one and slowly leading you to where Junghyun and his father stand near the elevator of the parking garage.

Breakfast was the last thing on your mind this morning. “Yeah. I’ll be okay, though.”

“Nonsense,” she tuts, producing a whole-grain protein bar from the bag slung over her other shoulder. “You’ll feel better with something in your stomach. Now, let’s go find my son. Being near your alpha will do you a dose of good, as well.”

You nibble on the protein bar, looking to simply placate her, but find yourself suddenly ravenous and consume the whole thing in three bites. It sits like lead in your belly, and you immediately regret wolfing it down so quickly.

“This foolish display will start at precisely noon, not long now,” Jungkook’s father states, the clip of his cane hitting the linoleum flooring of the elevator echoing the disapproval that’s evident in his voice.

Junghyun presses the button that’s labeled ‘theatre hall’ on the control panel and the cabled car begins a swift ascent up to the fifth floor. You caught sight of Jungkook's motorcycle in the parking garage, sitting next to Jimin’s red sports car. A few other familiar vehicles lined the rows, but there were dozens more you didn’t recognize.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you feel a familiar humming warmth bloom in the center of your chest. It’s the same feeling you’ve learned to associate with being nearer to Jungkook. Peeking at your phone, you see it’s a message from the alpha, letting you know he’s waiting for you just on the other side of the elevator doors.

“There you are,” Jungkook exhales, not even waiting for you to get off the elevator before he’s gathering you into his arms. His scent engulfs you, immediately putting you at ease. Jungkook is all alpha, and as much as you hate to admit it, he’s exactly what you need; your stomach and nerves are instantly soothed.

Jungkook’s father clears his throat, drawing Jungkook’s attention. “What news do you have?”

Jungkook sighs, releasing most of his hold on you, but keeps an arm over your shoulders and ushers you out of the elevator and into the hall. “Most all the other families have arrived. Jimin is with Daehyun now. I haven’t managed to lay my eyes on either Raiden or Demetrius. According to the council, they’re supposed to be in the eastern dressing rooms. I have seen Kiel skulking around the halls, though, creepy bastard.”

“Have you seen Hyunsoo?” Jungkook nods in answer to his father’s question. “I’d like to have a word with him.”

“Last I saw him, he was inside speaking with the council.”

“Perfect, I could do with a word for them, too,” Jungkook’s father grumbles before starting toward the entrance to the performance hall proper. Junghyun follows closely behind, after dipping his chin at Jungkook. You’ve never seen Jungkook get bent out of shape over designation deference, as some alphas do. He doesn’t force those below him to bow and scrape; he just asks for as much respect as he affords them in exchange. It’s just another tick you’ve had to add to your ‘Jungkook isn’t as bad as I once thought’ list.

“Are you feeling okay?” Jungkook asks softly, his eyes flicking between yours.

You do feel much better now that you’re with him, which would normally grate on you, but you can’t seem to muster up the typical ire for some reason. “I’ll be fine,” you assure him. “Just nerves.” That seems to satisfy him.

“Come on, let’s go before Dad causes too much of a scene.”

“Umm, I’ll be right there. I’m just going to go to the restroom real quick.”

He continues to stare at you for a moment longer before slowly nodding. “Okay. Mom, we’ll be right back—”

“No, no. It’s okay, you don’t have to come with—”

“Jungkook,” his mom interrupts you both, giving her son an amused smile. “She might be your omega, but I promise she doesn’t need you to hold her hand while she uses the restroom. I’ll wait here for her. You go on ahead with your father and Junghyun.”

Pink creeps up Jungkook’s neck and kisses his ears. “Right. Okay. I’ll see you inside,” he mumbles, pressing a quick kiss to your temple before reluctantly taking his arm from across your shoulders and heading toward the door his father and brother disappeared through.

“Thank you,” you say to his mom. “I’ll be right back.”

You’ve only been here a handful of times over the years for various events, but you’re able to follow the signs well enough to the restrooms located on this side of the venue. However, when you get there, the door is locked, and there is a janitorial wet-floor sign posted right outside.

It’s just your luck, right as you’re starting to feel a light wave of nausea wash over you. Taking a few deep breaths to try and calm your inner omega, who isn’t helping the situation at all, you turn to retreat back to where Jungkook’s mom is waiting for you a few halls over. Maybe she’ll have something that can calm your warring stomach and nerves.

“I can break the lock if you need to get in there,” a voice calls out from further down the hall just as you take a step to go back. “You look like you need it.”

You swivel toward the voice but can only make out the silhouette of someone standing in a darkened doorway a few doors down. They pull out a phone, and the blue light illuminates the ceiling for a moment before it’s plunged back into darkness. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“You don’t look fine to me.” The words come with a chuckle that slithers over your senses and sets you on high alert. You’ve heard that voice before. “If fact, you look like a helpless little omega that’s about to sick up all over the floor.”

That’s a thought. You might just do that, considering who steps out from that doorway, the face fitting with the name screaming inside your head. Kiel Barton. He’s every inch the viperous bastard he’s known to be. Despite being not much taller than you, he’s thicker through each arm and leg than both of yours combined. His bald head glints in the overhead light, and the jagged scar on his right cheek is bright white against his red-flushed face. He swaggers into the hallway, just a few feet away, twirling a switchblade through his thick fingers.

“I’m not helpless,” you seethe through your teeth. You don’t necessarily mean for the words to come out so aggressively, but they do. Years of not taking shit from anyone don’t seem to have worn off too much from your time of being mated with Jungkook. And if it’s one thing you’ve always hated, it’s how everyone thinks omegas are weak and soft—helpless without an alpha.

Kiel grins, and it reminds you of something you might see in a horror film right before the psycho killer attacks. “Oh, sweet, sweet omega,” he crows before sucking in a deep lungful of air, “I don’t think you realize just how helpless you are right now.”

You’re about to turn on your heel and run when he leaps. It’s like a strike of lightning; he moves so fast—faster than your reflexes can keep up with. Pain thunders through you as his burly form knocks into you and sends you hurtling a few feet down the hall to land in a heap on the floor.

He’s back on you in an instant, cold steel pressed against your neck. “Get off me!” you scream, trying your best to buck him off despite the disorienting feeling still reeling inside your head.

“I promised my brother as long as he did his part, I would do mine,” Kiel sing-songs in a demented tone, his words trailing off into another one of those spine-chilling chuckles.

“Fuck you!” You struggle under his weight, your knees and elbows trying to get any purchase along his thick-muscled body that they can. You manage to catch him along the neck with your hand, nails scoring bloody lines through the devil tattoo he has there.

An ear-splitting roar, the sound of loud banging, and running feet sound from somewhere down the hall, making Kiel’s laughter trail off. “Looks like my time to play is—” A small, sneakered foot meets the side of his ribs, turning his words into a grunt. The hit barely rocks him, but you can’t be sure of who it is, though, around his bulk.

“Get off of her, you snake!” snarls a familiar feminine voice, only it’s dripping with far more acid than you’ve ever heard before.

“FUCK! I don’t have time for this!” Kiel thunders, rearing back and bringing a fist around right into your temple, sending you careening into hazy darkness.

There is so much noise and movement that when you first come to, you think you’re dreaming. But then the very real pain lights up along your side, and you’re reminded that this is very much not a dream. You’re laying on the floor in the hallway outside the bathroom, side smarting hard from the impact of hitting the floor and the memory of a meaty fist stark in your mind.

You go to sit up, only to have your hand slip through a puddle of warm, sticky liquid. The scent hits you a second later, thick and metallic. “Oh gods,” you whimper softly. Your hand is bright red when you bring it up in front of your face.

“Please,” comes an even more pitiful whimper from beside you. Adrenaline kicks in, and you flip onto your hands and knees, letting your eyes swing over the scene around you.

A dozen bodies are packed in the hall, fists flying and mouths opened in concussive bellows. It’s pandemonium. Everyone is fighting, familiar faces and those of strangers alike. All the sounds combined make you want to crawl into a corner and cover your ears, but the form lying beside you keeps you right where you are.

Jungkook’s mom lies on the floor. Her body turned at an odd angle, with her hips going one way and her torso the other as if she was flung around like a ragdoll. You realize the whimpering is coming from her. She lifts a trembling hand toward you, and you grab onto it, crawling closer to kneel beside her.

The blood covering your hand, now seeping through the knees of your jeans, is coming from her. A familiar-looking switchblade is protruding from the upper right area of her chest, between her clavicle and shoulder, and there is a cut over her left eyebrow that blood is steadily oozing from.

“No, no, no!” You quickly rip off a strip from the bottom of your t-shirt and press it around the blade, trying to staunch the wound. The cut above her brow doesn’t look deep; all the blood is a bit alarming, but you know headwounds are the worst in being deceptive; they bleed so much. You’re also scared to take your hands away from her chest. “What did you do?”

Her eyes flicker open, rolling wide until they land on you. “Had to”—she pauses, whimpering in pain as someone stumbles backward and knocks into her splayed legs—”pr-protect the baby.”

“Protect the–protect the wh—”

“NO!” The alpha roar echoes through the hall, as loud as a thunderclap.

In the same instant that your hands are moved aside and replaced by the older, more gnarled ones of her mate, arms come around you from behind and you’re lifted up off the floor. Fear grips your throat, and you flail, aiming your elbow backward at whoever grabbed you.

“Stop, calm down!” Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of your fight instinct, and you sag in his arms. The fighting around you has turned into pockets of isolated struggle.

You blink a few times, clearing the panicked haze from your eyes, finally able to piece everything together. There are a few busted lips and some already swelling eyes, but there are at least a handful of familiar faces around you. Each one is executing some form of hold over individuals with less familiar faces; headlocks, arm bars, and others that look just as effective, if maybe more painful.

Then there is the scene at your feet, right out of a horror movie. Jungkook’s dad and brother are kneeling beside his mom, the knife still sticking out of her chest. It looks like the blood has stopped pooling around the blade, but you can’t seem to remember if that’s a good or a bad sign.

“Jungkook! Your mom, we need a medic!” you urge, struggling in his arms again.

A sinister, wet, cackling laugh cuts through the hushed din of the hallway before it turns into a hacking cough. You can hear the distinct sound of flesh hitting flesh and pained grunts.

”Shut up, you sick bastard!” The ragged cry comes from further down the hallway, where you see Seokjin with his arms wrapped around Kiel’s upper torso and Yoongi throwing fists into his stomach. “How dare you!?”

“Yoongi.” Jungkook doesn’t have to raise his voice at all. The other alpha stops, fist poised mid-punch, his shoulders heaving. “That’s enough.” The coldness in Jungkook’s tone has the hairs on the back of your neck prickling. You’ve never heard him sound so utterly emotionless. “For now.”

Pounding footsteps sound from the other end of the hall, and a few betas come skidding into view, medical bags in hand. “Out of the way!” one of the betas shouts, shouldering his way down the hall before dropping down beside Junghyun and beginning to work. “I need to get her stabilized before we can move her.”

Everything is still a bit cloudy for you; all you have are flits and flashes of memory, but it’s not hard to piece it together. Kiel came after you outside the bathroom, and then Jungkook’s mom tried to interfere. “Is she, is she going to be okay?” you ask, voice soft, your lips trembling around the question.

Jungkook hooks an arm under the backs of your legs and hoists you up against his chest, and you get your first good look at his face. There is a dribble of blood coming from the corner of his mouth and mild swelling coming up around his left eye.

He’s about to open his mouth to say something when a group of grey-haired alphas cut around the corner at the end of the hall, and the one in the front gasps dramatically, “Good gods! What has happened?” You groan at the loud sound, burying your face into Jungkook’s chest.

“This is what happens when you entertain absurd demands from a known trouble-making pack,” Jungkook’s father states with barely veiled malice.

“This is your mess,” Jungkook says, directing attention to the elders shuffling their feet at the end of the hall. His words are acerbic despite him speaking at a normal volume. It’s an alpha statement, carrying the cutting edge of an unspoken command. The entire hallway stills, the air thick with tension.

“Our mess?”

“If you had listened to me from the start about how utterly ridiculous this whole duel bullshit was, this”—he nods down at his mother, who is still being worked on by the betas—”wouldn’t have happened. I’ll have all of you off the council before the week is over, mark my words,” he seethes. “And, if she doesn’t recover fully, I’ll have more than just your titles. Yoongi, Seokjin, you know what to do.” With that, Jungkook turns and stalks down the hall, carrying you with him.

🌙🌙🌙

Jungkook

There is so much rage simmering beneath Jungkook’s skin that he thinks he might explode if he doesn’t let it out somehow. However, the only outlet he wants right now is you—to get lost in your body and your soul—but you’re in no state to take the brunt of his emotions.

“Jungkook.” Your soft voice draws his gaze down to your face. Seeing the swelling around your eye makes him want to turn around and finish what Yoongi was starting. Jungkook isn’t violent, but he could level the entire city right now if he weren’t so focused on getting you checked out. You bring a hand up and lightly trace the break in his lip. “What happened?”

“Raiden and Demetrius. I think this was their plan all along. One minute, Father and I were talking to the council while we waited, and the next, Raiden and Demetrius, along with a half dozen of their pack, came bursting into the theatre and attacked us.” Jungkook sighs, shaking his head. “I felt you, I felt the…” the trails off, not wanting to voice those feelings aloud. The pure terror he felt through his mate connection to you. The tie between the two of you has never really been an open street, he’s never been able to feel your emotions so viscerally before. It was almost enough to take him to his knees. If he didn’t need to fight off a pack of rabid alphas, it nearly might have. “I’m sorry,” Jungkook rasps.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for. We knew they were up to no good. I should have been more vigilant or, at least, taken you up on your offer to escort me to the restroom.” You try to laugh, but it turns into a groan as your head pounds.

“Let’s get you to the hospital so they can check you over.”

No amount of protests from you will deter Jungkook from getting you to a doctor. Junghyun texts him shortly after he places you in the backseat of the SUV, letting Jungkook know that everyone else is on their way to the hospital and an ambulance is en route to get their mother but that the betas are hopeful.

Several hours later, you’ve been released from the hospital with confirmation of no lasting damage, just a recommendation to get some rest. Jungkook’s lip is patched with a butterfly stitch, per your insistence, and it itches as he sits on the edge of the bed in the hotel room he booked before leaving the hospital. Even though you aren’t concussed or anything, Jungkook didn’t want to risk taking you all the way back to pack lands.

Besides, his mother was admitted and is still there for observation, and he doesn’t feel comfortable being too far away while she’s in recovery. She went in for surgery immediately upon arrival and woke up not too long ago. Junghyun and their father are staying at the hospital with her until she’s cleared to go home, which will hopefully not be more than a few days. Apparently, her wounds looked worse than they were, and she was fortunate Kiel didn’t get her an inch further to either side. Otherwise, it might be a very different outcome.

Jimin texted him a bit ago, letting him know the entire Barton pack is being detained at the local precinct, and the authorities are awaiting word from Jungkook about charges. The council sequestered themselves behind closed doors, but the duel was considered null due to the circumstances. Jimin feels bad about being part of the ruse, even if he was just being used as a means to get close to the Jeon pack.

It’s come to light that the Bartons decided to use their feud with the Parks because they knew the Jeons wouldn’t sit idly by. One big, elaborate plan, all to get close to Jungkook’s Luna and try to tear down the hierarchy. If Jungkook lost his Soulmate, he’d lose his foundation of power as well. Or so, that’s what the buzz was when some of the Barton betas were interrogated, according to Jimin.

Jungkook knows everything is going to be okay, that you’re going to be okay; the doctor told him as much. But, despite that assurance, he can’t seem to relax. You’re curled up in the bed, facing him, and you look so peaceful, even with the swelling on the side of your face, but all he can feel is rage when he sees that…rage and so much guilt.

He never should have let you go to the restroom on your own. If he has his way, he’s never going to let you out of his sight again. It’s such an alarming realization, going from one polar sensation to the next. The fact he could give two shits less about you just a few months ago, and now here he is wanting to murder someone for touching you, is hard to wrap his head around.

Yet, here he is, fisting the edge of one of the blankets as he battles this feeling inside himself. The fact his alpha has been mostly silent since Jungkook laid eyes on you in that hallway is just as alarming. It’s almost like his alpha is giving him space. For the first time since coming into his designation, he feels like a giant void separates him from his alpha; he doesn’t like it.

There’s also the pile of papers sitting on the desk, a few feet away, that hold another key bit of information that won’t let him relax. It was standard testing, just something to help rule other things out and see what kinds of tests they could and could not perform to assess your head.

You’re pregnant.

Now that he knows, Jungkook can tell. There is a distinct, underlying change to your scent. It’s sweeter somehow, more alluring in the sense that you now smell partly like him. He should have known before. He knows that if he hadn’t spent so much time away from you, he would have realized it sooner.

You were surprised, but your shock seemed more subdued. When questioned, you told Jungkook what his mother had said to you. Somehow, even his mother knew before he did. Jungkook feels like a failure, like he’s done nothing right by you. It had to have happened the night of your designation celebration. Neither of you had bothered with any preventative measures that night, too lost in the touch and feel of each other to care.

And now, here you are, pregnant without a bite on your neck and a knot on the side of your head. If anything were to have happened to the baby…Jungkook isn’t sure he can even think about that right now. Not without wanting to put his fist through the wall.

He’s spent weeks worried about staying away from you when all along, he was clearly concerned about all the wrong things. The doctor assured him that even the most attentive of alphas take several weeks before they can smell their own child in the womb. But that doesn’t make Jungkook feel any better.

He thinks back on all the curt and what he thought were nagging messages he had gotten from his mother the last few weeks and can see them in a different light now. She wasn’t just trying to chastise him about his duty; she was trying to coax him home so he could be there for his mate in a way he should have from the start.

Jungkook knows what he needs to do now. There is no question about it. Though, it’s not because he feels obligated…no, he truly wants to solidify that bond with you. As soon as you’re ready, he’s going to offer himself to you, finally and fully.

“Jungkook, are you okay?” your sweet voice breaks him out of his thoughts and makes him release his tight hold on the sheets.

Your eyes look so big and bright even in the dim light of the hotel room as you sleepily blink up at him. How he never wanted to give himself over to you so completely before now marks him as a sure fool.

He sighs, exhaling a slow breath. “Yeah. How are you feeling?”

You stretch, wincing only slightly as your arm brushes along the side of your face. “Better, I think.”

“Can we talk?” he asks after a pause of silence.

You give him a guarded look as you slowly sit up and gather some of the blankets in your lap. The doctor told him you might start feeling the need to nest and gather comfort items, so he had specifically requested the Omega suite, which comes with complimentary brand-new fuzzy blankets and extra pillows that guests are allowed to take home when checking out.

“Sure,” you finally say.

Jungkook watches as emotions cross your face, echoing the pulse he can feel emanating from his chest. His alpha perks up, rousing for the first time in hours it feels like.

“Okay.” Now that he’s been given the go-ahead to talk, he’s suddenly feeling very self-conscious and uncertain. “I know you told me I don’t need to apologize, but I’m going to anyway.” Your lips form a thin line when he says that, so he hurries to continue, “Not for”—he gestures vaguely in your direction—”but for everything else. I want to apologize for everything before this. The way I’ve treated you and how I’ve acted. You’ve deserved better than what I’ve offered you these last few weeks—for being an asshole and a fucking dick,” Jungkook uses your own choice of words for him, and that earns him a small smile from you.

“I want to apologize, too, then. And before you can protest”—Jungkook was 100% about to—”just let me finish. Sure, you’ve not been the greatest the last few weeks, but I know I haven’t either. I should have tried harder, fought you on you being gone all the time, stood up for what I wan–er, needed, and been honest with how it was making me feel.”

Jungkook shakes his head, unable to believe how you’ve yet again turned the tables on him. “I, uh, there’s something that…there’s something I want to do,” Jungkook barely manages to get the words out as anxiety spikes at the prospect of you refusing.

“What is it?”

The look of intrigue on your face turns into pure shock as Jungkook prostrates himself on the bed in front of you, deliberately turning his head to expose the side of his neck to you, an act of submission. “I’m giving myself to you, wholly and completely. All those weeks ago, I claimed you and made you mine, and…now I’m yours.”

🌙🌙🌙

You stare at Jungkook, not sure what to say. “I-I don’t need,” you begin, reaching for Jungkook and encouraging him to sit up, “you to do that. You don’t have to bend to me…as long as you promise never to make me bend to you either.”

Jungkook shakes his head. “I can’t promise I’ll be perfect, but I’ll never force you to be something that you’re not ever again. I’m sorry I didn’t realize this sooner, I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you when you asked to come with me to Jimin’s. From now on, I’ll listen to you, and I’ll not dismiss your concerns or voice. I don’t want you to feel like you’re beneath me simply because you’re my mate. I want you as my equal instead.”

The truth behind Jungkook’s words is evident in the fervent way he delivers them but also in the way your omega mews in satisfaction. A bite for a bite, an equal. Even though you wouldn’t be leaving a permanent mark on his neck like he will on yours, it’s still the intention, and it’s completely unheard of in your world. There are stories, myths, really…but nothing wholly substantial.

You shift on the bed, gathering your knees underneath you. Your jeans went into the trash, and all the hospital had was a thin pair of shorts and a t-shirt for you to wear. You fluff out the blankets absently as you mull over his words. “Your equal?”

“Yes,” Jungkook resolutely declares.

“I think I would like that,” you whisper, eyeing Jungkook’s mouth with a quickly burning hunger.

“Are you sure?” Jungkook asks, swallowing hard as you lean in closer to him. “If you need more time to think, that’s okay.”

“Are you sure?” you counter, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Jungkook responds by kissing you hard on the mouth, wrapping his arms around you, and dragging you against his chest. He tastes like home; his tongue is warm and wet against yours, and you’re certain you could drown in the sensation if he let you. But, he comes up for air, breaking the kiss for a moment before pressing open-mouthed kisses along your jaw.

Even with the aches in your face and body, you respond to him. With every teasing nip of his mouth, you feel yourself growing wet. The fragrant cream of your slick blooms in the air, melding with his masculine and spicy scent to create the perfect, heady bouquet.

“I’ve never been more sure about something,” Jungkook whispers the affirmation between kisses until his warm breath ghosts over the scent mark on your neck. “You smell so damn good,” he groans.

You can feel his lips part over the skin there; his tongue laves out and swipes up the side of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. With trembling hands, you help each other discard your clothing, finally coming back together skin to skin. Jungkook pulls you into his lap, his thick cock sitting snugly against your ass. You can feel the bulge of his knot already as if his body is automatically responding to just your closeness.

“You can say stop at any time,” you tell him, earning a surprised grunt when you shove him back against the pillows and deliberately slide your ass slowly over his cock as you move backward.

There is a challenge in his eyes as you meet them. You move until you’re kneeling between his knees, cock sitting prettily before you. “Where, ah,” Jungkook sucks in a stilted breath when you take the head of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it, “did you want to?” Pink tinges Jungkook’s ears as he looks down at you, mouth full of him. You tap the inside of his thigh and raise your brows in silent question. “O-okay, just…just be gentle.”

That makes you chuckle, the vibration coming up your throat, and you can tell it sends a shock through Jungkook; his head drops back, and his mouth opens with a loud moan. “Gentle says the man about to put a permanent bite on my neck. An act that is none too gentle, I might add,” you say, letting his cock slip out from between your lips.

“Okay, that’s fair,” he relents, his words breathy as you trace along the underside of his dick with your tongue. “Be as aggressive as you want, then.”

Feeling egged on just a little by that declaration, you plant your teeth firmly into the meat of his inner thigh and bite as hard as you dare. Your teeth pinprick his skin, and the metallic tang of blood leeches onto your tongue. Jungkook grunts; his whole body shivers against your mouth.

“Was that okay?” you ask tentatively once you’ve pulled back to admire the twin crescent impressions you left behind. There isn’t that much blood. The two small wounds from your teeth are already clotted.

Jungkook lets out a heavy exhale as his body finally relaxes back against the bed. His cock twitches beside your face, producing a thick string of pre-cum that has your mouth watering for a taste.

“That was,” he pants, “hot as fuck.”

Pride fills you, and your body kindly reminds you with an intense throb in your clit, how much it turns you on when Jungkook talks like that. “Your turn,” you urge, desperate to get his teeth on your skin and his cock in your pussy.

Jungkook growls his approval, letting his alpha strength take over, and maneuvers you easily into a kneeling position in front of him. Using a gentle hand in your hair, he pulls you up until your back is pressed against his chest, giving him unfettered access to the front of your body while being able to tease your clit with the tip of his length.

“Are you ready for me?” he asks, using the hand in your hair to angle your head sideways so he can lick along the side of your neck. “Let’s see.” His other hand slides down the front of your body, tweaking your nipples on the way, until his middle finger grazes over your swollen, aching clit.

“Don’t tease me,” you say between clenched teeth. Your omega adds her indignation to your own, making your words come out laced with additional grit.

“I just want a little taste,” Jungkook whispers as he hooks his finger lower and massages it along your slit, collecting a generous amount of slick as he does so. You watch as his finger comes up and disappears beside your face.

The wet laving sound of Jungkook sucking his finger sends a shudder through you. You reach down with your hands, cupping Jungkook’s cock in one and using the other to part the lips of your pussy so you can fit him against your entrance. “Fuuuck,” you drawl out as the broad head of his cock slides in.

“I love the way your pussy tastes,” Jungkook moans, dropping his hand to your hip and using it to guide your ass back against him, forcing him deeper. “It’s almost as good as how it feels.”

His fingers prod along your hip, sliding until his palm rests over your lower belly. You whimper, rocking your hips the best you can, and place your hand over his. “How do I look?” you ask. “You once told me I’d look so pretty once I was pregnant with your pup. Do you still think that?”

“You are,” he starts, “the single most”—he emphasizes the words with long, rolling strokes of his cock that have his knot kissing your lower lips with every forward motion—”beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. Even before I fucked you raw and knocked you up.” The beautiful, endearing words contrast so wildly with the dirty confession he tacks on at the end. Proving once again that Jungkook knows exactly how to wind you up and have you begging for more.

“Prove it,” you goade, intentionally dipping your head to the side to expose your neck further to him.

The moment his teeth touch your skin, you both freeze. It lasts only a second, the time it takes for them to sink into the tender expanse of your scent gland. It’s like a double punch to the gut; you can feel it all the way in your soul. The bond snaps into place the same instant Jungkook fits his knot inside you, and you explode, disintegrating into a million tiny little points of pleasure.

Your body opens for him, both physically and mentally. What was once a small trickle of feeling now becomes a deluge of intensity. You’re vaguely aware of Jungkook groaning as he meets his own release, throbbing heavily within your walls. You can feel him beneath your skin, feel the way your own body is wrapped so tightly around his knot, and the infinite pleasure that’s flooding through both of your systems.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jungkook mumbles against your neck, his teeth finally pulling free from your skin. “I can feel everything.”

It’s hard to tell where he begins, and you end. There is a sense of middling permanence, the perfect balance between alpha and omega. You once feared that submitting to him completely would change you in some cataclysmic way. And, it has…only, you don’t feel damned. In fact, it’s far more empowering than you ever thought possible.

Jungkook brushes his tongue along the fresh bite, tending to your wound in a tender way that has you slumping over. He follows you down, gently rutting his hips, which forces his knot to rub and grate inside of you, flooding you with another luscious rush of dopamine, like a second orgasm.

“Jungkook?” you ask, trying not to fall asleep as he continues to nuzzle your neck, and his knot keeps you secured so close to his warm body.

“Hmm?” he hums. Jungkook settles you both on your side, holding you against his chest with one hand and stroking and petting with soft, sensual strokes along every inch of your body that he can reach with the other.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”

“I promise never to make you doubt me ever again. You are my soulmate, my Luna…the mother of my child. You are my everything.”

And just as Jungkook said, he made you his, and now he’s yours. Forever.

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roosterforme · 9 months

Text

Batting Practice Part 27 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Moving in with you and Everett was the most natural thing Bradley could have done. He felt loved and comfortable, and he hoped the two of you felt the same. But it took a night out drinking at the Hard Deck for you to mention some things that Bradley would have preferred you told him when you were sober.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, angst and swearing

Length: 4900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female single!mom Reader

Check my masterlist for more Top Gun fun! Batting Practice masterlist.

"Do you even own anything?" you asked, looking around Bradley's beige apartment. There was a stack of about ten moving boxes, two tubs of baseball cards, and some laundry baskets of clothing. "This is alarming. I'm marrying a man who doesn't own anything."

Bradley rolled his eyes at you. "I tried to tell you we didn't need Molly and Bob to come help. I could have done this with Everett." He had explained to you that his apartment came fully furnished and he had claimed that he didn't own much. But this was next level.

"Listen, Kitten," he added, wrapping his arms around you while Everett tossed Bradley's baseball caps into one of the laundry baskets. "I haven't really had a home since I was in high school. Barracks and fully furnished apartments were it." Your heart melted as he added, "Thanks for inviting me to live in your home."

"It's about to become yours, too. You can do whatever will make you happy and comfortable."

Just then Molly and Bob showed up, and Bradley's eyes lit up. "Everett!" he shouted. "We're getting a Phillies room!"

"What?" you sputtered, laughing at his excitement. "I didn't say-"

"A Phillies room!" Ev chanted, pumping his fists in the air.

"Shit," you whispered as Molly came up behind you and gave you a hug.

"This is it?" Bob asked, looking around at Bradley's stuff. "You needed my truck for five boxes?"

Bradley shrugged. "I tried to tell her not to bother calling you. Actually," he said, turning toward the refrigerator, "can you help me finish these beers?" He opened four bottles and handed two of them to Bob.

"Ladies?" Bob asked, but you both shook your heads.

You and Molly dropped down onto the couch together while the three boys messed around in the kitchen, talking about this theoretical Phillies room. She looked a little worried, and you didn't like the way she had been chewing on her fingernails. "What's wrong?" you asked her softly.

"Nothing," she replied immediately with a smile so fake, you were shocked she even tried it on you.

"Maybe Bob still believes that smile is genuine, but I know better. Tell me what's up."

She sighed and stretched out on your lap. "I'm so tired from work. I don't like the one douchebag doctor who works day shifts. He keeps giving me a hard time."

Your skin started to prickle. "What did he do? Did you tell Bob?"

"Yeah," she groaned, closing her eyes as you rubbed her shoulder. "I told Bob. The doctor just hates me and acts like I'm incompetent. No biggie. I know I do a good job."

It was a fight to calm your breathing down. "You actually save people's lives before the doctor even shows up in the room."

"See? You get it," she mumbled, and then she fell asleep while the guys loaded the Bronco and Bob's truck with Bradley's meager belongings.

She slept until it was time for Bradley to lock his door one last time, and then she stood to use the bathroom. You popped up and pulled Bob into the completely empty bedroom, but before you could say anything, he was talking.

"Is Molly mad at me?" he asked softly, his eyes sad and searching yours.

"Oh, Bob," you gasped, reaching for his hand. "I don't think so. But she seems a little stressed out, doesn't she?"

He shrugged helplessly. "She keeps telling me it's because of work, but... I'm afraid she's been so quiet because she's tired of me."

You gasped. "No!" you whispered in a harsh voice. "She loves you!"

But he just looked at the floor and held tight to your hand until Bradley walked in and asked, "Ready to go?" If Bradley thought it was strange that you and Bob were holding hands and that you hugged him so tight he groaned, he didn't say anything.

"You'll tell me if she says anything to you?" Bob asked quietly as you and he followed Bradley out to the living room.

"Of course," you replied. But when Molly came out of the bathroom, she went right for Bob's arms, and they both looked immediately happier. They were fine. They had to be fine.

"Mommy? Can I ride in Bob's truck?" Everett asked, and Bradley looked scandalized.

"I thought you liked the Bronco!" he said, tossing his hands in the air in exasperation.

"I do, Dad! But I wanted to see the truck, too!" You pressed your lips together as Bradley scooped Everett into his arms and kissed him.

"Okay, but you can't end up liking it as much as the Bronco, alright?" he asked, ushering everyone out of the apartment.

"I won't," Everett promised, and Bradley carried him down the stairs and out to the parking lot. Then he switched Everett's booster seat to the second row of Bob's pickup truck and helped him get buckled.

When you and he were finally alone in the Bronco, you asked, "Going for dad of the year?"

He looked smug as he kissed you and said, "I'm already Coach of the year and fiancé of the year. I'm going for broke. Plus Bob drives like an elderly person. Ev will be so bored."

You laughed as he pulled out onto the main road and headed toward your house. His house too, now. "I was thinking about... changing my last name when we get married," you told him as he changed lanes.

"Yeah?" he asked, glancing at you with eager eyes as he drove. "Really?"

You groaned. "I still have Danny's last name, so I think I'd like to change it to Bradshaw if that's okay with you."

He reached for your hand immediately. "Hell yes! It's more than okay with me, Kitten! I just didn't want you to think I'd be upset if you didn't."

You wanted to say something about Everett. You really wanted to tell him about Danny and the child support and the fact that the papers had been served. But you just couldn't. Not right now. Because he was parking a little crookedly in the driveway and reaching for you, and you were in his arms and his lips were on yours.

You were moaning with his hand up your shirt and underneath your bra when you heard Bob's truck.

"Told you he drives slow," Bradley grunted. "Could have fucked you real quick before they got here."

You burst into laughter as you climbed out of the Bronco and went to get Everett. When he bounded toward Bradley, you heard him whisper, "It was fun, but not as fun as the Bronco."

Bradley tousled his hair and said, "I knew you wouldn't let me down."

Then you and Molly sat on the porch steps with some cookies while the guys did all the work.

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

A few days later, Bradley was waiting next to Bob in their matching Navy Waves uniforms. The first game of their season was about to start, but none of their promised spectators were there yet. "Did Molly get hung up at work?" Bradley asked him, checking the time again on his phone.

Bob sighed and tipped his head back. "I don't know, Rooster." He looked miserable. "I guess. Maybe."

"Well, did you text her?"

"Yeah. She didn't respond."

Bradley paused for a moment. "Is everything okay?"

"I don't know," Bob sighed, running his hand over his mouth. But then Bradley saw you and Molly running from the parking lot with Everett leading the way.

"There they are!" Bradley said, lightly hitting Bob's arm before he headed toward Everett.

"Bradley! We got stuck in traffic!" Everett said, running into his hug. Bradley, Coach, Dad... he liked it when Everett called him any of those things.

"We were missing you," Bradley replied, kissing the top of his head as you hustled up next.

"Good luck!" you told him, kissing him softly as you were out of breath. Then Bradley realized that all three of you were wearing matching white and navy blue shirts. He looked at the back of Molly's as she headed toward Bob, and he noticed that it said Floyd along with the number 30 on it.

When he spun Everett around in his arms, he laughed. "Bradshaw shirts? I love it!" Then you turned for him as well, and he got such a lovely view of your ass in your denim shorts along with his name on your back. He'd be taking all of that clothing off you later.

"Go," you told him, turning back around and pushing him toward the dugout. "The game is about to start!"

Bradley collected Bob from Molly and dragged him down to the field for the game against the Army Rockets. Bob seemed to have perked up a bit, and after the national anthem was played, Bradley took to the pitcher's mound.

After he struck out the first three batters in a row, he stood there, shocked. "Hell yeah, Bradshaw!" the left fielder said, as they switched to offense. Bradley batted fifth, and the Navy Waves managed to score one run.

And the whole time, Bradley could hear Everett shouting for him. When he looked up into the stands, you waved to him. Every single time. He could even see the light catch your ring. "Fuck," he groaned, trying to stay focused on the game. But he was so in love with you now. He loved living at your house and using all your cool body washes in the shower. He loved the way you woke him up with kisses in the morning. He loved tucking Everett in at night. He loved making pancakes in your kitchen.

You were the best kind of distraction. As the game progressed, he kept pitching pretty well. By the last inning, The Waves were up by five runs, and even though Bradley was tired, he told the coaches he'd be able to finish the game.

When he struck out the last batter in the ninth inning, Bradley heard Everett screaming over the rest of the fans. And he made sure to collect one of the game balls to take home.

"Good game!" Bob told him, gathering up his gear as he kept glancing over his shoulder at Molly like he was afraid she was going to vanish.

"You too. Nice double play," Bradley replied, following him up into the bleachers.

"I've never felt more patriotic than I do right now," Molly said with a laugh. "A military themed baseball game. Americana at its finest."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Bradley replied with a laugh as he handed the baseball to Everertt.

Molly rolled her eyes so hard, Bradley feared for her vision. "Really, Bradley? You're the most patriotic thing here." Then she cleared her throat and puffed out her chest and tried to imitate Bradley in a deeper voice. "Hi, I'm Bradley Bradshaw. And I'm in the Navy. And my dad was in the Navy, too." Bradley couldn't contain his laughter, and neither could you and Bob as she continued. "And my mom was red, white and blue striped. And I'm so patriotic, I could only propose on Independence Day. And I'm going to rename my son Everett the Bald Eagle."

Bradley was doubled over in laughter. "You're obnoxious," he told Molly, but she just smirked at him.

"Where's the lie?" she asked, snuggled up against Bob as he laughed too.

Bradley sighed and shook his head. "I'm not going to change Everett's name. At least not to that," he mumbled, following everyone as they made their way to the parking lot. When you wrapped your arm around Bradley's waist, he groaned. "I'm so sore."

"Poor thing," you crooned. "You want a backrub when we get home?"

Home. Bradley was going to drive home. Where he lived with his family.

"Are you offering?" he asked with a grin, but all he got in response was a sassy shrug. He loaded Everett and all of his gear into the Bronco and followed your car home.

And it's not like he ever meant to take over your job of parenting your son, but Bradley absolutely loved helping with Everett's bedtime routine. So he told you to go relax while he got the bathtub ready. Bradley sat on the bathroom floor against the wall, chatting with Everett about baseball and summer camp. He let Everett ask him a million questions and promised to teach him how to keep baseball statistics.

"You should teach my mom, too," he said. "Since she's really good at math."

"We should get her a stats binder for her birthday."

"We should get her a lot more baseball stuff, because she doesn't really have any."

"Yeah," Bradley agreed. "We wouldn't want her to look ridiculous when we're all decked out in Phillies gear and she's not."

Everett started to drain the tub while Bradley handed him a towel. "Do you think she'll let us paint the extra bedroom red when we make it a Phillies room?"

Bradley winced. "I don't know, kiddo. Let me discuss that one with her."

Bradley followed him into his room and got out some pajamas, but once Everett was changed and tucked in bed, he gasped. "Dad! I left the baseball from your game in my booster seat!"

"I'll go get it," Bradley replied, heart swelling.

"Can you autograph it for me, too?"

A strange emotion took over Bradley's entire body, just like it always did in these moments. He felt like laughing and crying at the same time. "Sure, Ev."

By the time Bradley retrieved the baseball, signed it and came back upstairs, Everett was sound asleep. So he left the ball on the dresser and kissed his forehead.

And then he walked into your bedroom. Well, the one that he shared with you now. And you were sitting in the middle of the bed wearing one of his oversized tee shirts. You had removed your makeup, but you still looked beautiful as you reached for him.

"Pulled out a big win today, Coach. Let me rub your back."

"Somehow I keep winning," he muttered, quickly undressing and tossing his baseball uniform into the hamper. You coaxed him into bed, on his stomach, and Bradley groaned softly as you straddled his lower back and sat on his butt. "Feels good, Kitten."

Your soft laughter filled the room. "I didn't even do anything yet." But your lips met the back of his neck as your hands worked at his stiff right shoulder, and Bradley was melting into the soft bedding.

"Fuck," he grunted as you worked at a knot with your elbow.

"Does it hurt?" you whispered, taking a break and kissing that spot.

"No," he replied. "Keep going." But you kept going with your kisses instead of your massage. You gently grabbed his biceps and kissed along his spine and back up again until he was panting. "Kitten."

"Hmm?" you hummed against his shoulder blade. Then you licked his salty skin, and Bradley let you pin his wrists in place on either side of his head. You whispered something filthy in his ear. "You're getting me worked up, and you're not even the one doing the touching, Coach. I'm gonna need you to fuck me."

But when he tried to move, you were firm with your hands, so he stayed put, feeling the throb of his erection against the mattress. You licked along his neck and behind his ear, and Bradley had to keep from bucking for relief. He was gritting his teeth against the sensation of your mouth brushing the shell of his ear as you said, "Your back is sexy. How is your back sexy?"

"Baby, please let me fuck you," he begged before you climbed off of him and stayed on all fours. Bradley slipped himself inside you with one quick thrust that had you moaning, and he slipped his fingers around your necklace chain. Very gently, he pulled you closer to him, careful not to harm your little paw print charm. Your back was arched deliciously, and he pushed the tee shirt up to your neck and caressed your tits.

"Bradley," you whined, but he didn't go any faster. Just languid thrusts, his cock brushing every sensitive spot inside you. He watched your pretty pussy take him as he yanked a little more on your necklace. With one hand on your ass, he guided you through a slow buildup to an orgasm that had you moaning his name for a solid two minutes.

"Oh hell," he growled, spilling himself inside you, eyes closed and head tipped back. He released your necklace, and let you collapse onto your belly. You squealed as he pressed himself on top of you and kissed your upper back. "You're sexy here too, Kitten."

You giggled as he ended up giving you a back massage instead. "Ugh...your hands are so big."

"I pitched a full game, and I only got a two minute massage," he complained.

"Your fault for getting a boner," you replied, clearly enjoying the way he was touching you.

Eventually Bradley took a shower and pulled on some clean underwear. You were nearly asleep when he climbed into bed, but you said, "I've been thinking about our wedding."

"Go on," he replied, kissing your scrunched up nose. "I'd love to hear more."

You yawned and whispered, "I think you'll like my idea." And then you told Bradley what you wanted to do. And then you said you wanted to do it in the next month or two. And he had you on your back, smothering your face in kisses while you giggled.

"Wait," he said, pausing his kisses to look at you. "Is that even possible? Can we actually do that?"

You nodded. "I think so. If you know the right people. You wanna do it?"

"Yes, Baby. One hundred percent."

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

Thunderstorms had rolled in overnight, and you woke up to find Everett in your bed with you and Bradley. It had been quite a while since a storm had sent him into your room, but this one was particularly loud. Everett was curled up in the middle of the bed with Bradley's arm wrapped around him and his head on Bradley's shoulder. They were both sound asleep.

You gasped at how sweet they looked and grabbed your phone to take a picture. And then you checked under the covers to make sure Bradley was wearing underwear. Okay, great. You'd have to remind him to keep doing that.

As you swiped through a bunch of texts from Molly, you cringed. She had sent them at three in the morning. She wasn't getting enough sleep, trying to transition from overnights to daytime shifts. You knew she needed to take better care of herself. "Oh, Molly," you sighed, climbing out of bed, leaving the boys to sleep a little longer.

Bob and I are going to that Navy bar tonight. You and my future turd-in-law wanna come?

You snorted as you turned on the coffee maker. Maybe Everett could hang out with Maverick tonight? You'd have to see if that would work. You also needed to make a ton of phone calls at work today. When Bradley and Everett never surfaced, you had to go back upstairs and wake them up for work and summer camp respectively. And then you had to listen to them both bug you about turning the extra bedroom into a Phillies room.

You just shook your head until they were both starting to whine. "I don't care!" you finally said with a laugh. "Do what you want, but you need to keep the spare bed in there."

Then they rushed out to the Bronco together with just enough time for Bradley to drop Everett off and still make it to North Island on time. You were being outnumbered. You were being overruled. They were teaming up against you. But honestly, you didn't even mind. They could have a Phillies room. Because now that Bradley was living with you, your life already felt less hectic. You felt like you could breathe with the way he did things like take control of bedtime and breakfasts.

You practically floated into work. You even waved to Frank, with your left hand so hopefully he'd see your ring. Then you got settled at your desk and made a few phone calls. And it turns out, you can have the wedding you want if you just drop the right names. And it was a good thing you saved Jake Seresin's number in your phone.

While you were desperately trying to finish up one of your projects that was precariously close to becoming overdue, Molly started texting you again.

ARE YOU GOING TO ANSWER ME?! Bar tonight?

"Chill," you whispered, texting Bradley instead to try to find out if Ev could play with Maverick for a little bit at his hangar. When you left work that afternoon with the reassurance that Bradley would take Everett to hang out with Mav, you went home to get ready to go to the bar.

It was amazing how you had the time to do your makeup and hair. You even tried on several outfits before settling on your black bodysuit and some denim shorts with sandals. Bradley was definitely going to like this. You just had to make sure he enjoyed it later and not right now, because you could hear his key in the door as you ran down the stairs.

"I told Molly we'd meet them at the bar in twenty minutes. There's a plate of leftovers in the fridge for you. And I planned our wedding."

Bradley was in his flight suit, frozen just inside the front door with his keys hanging from his hand. "You planned our wedding? And you're wearing your kitten bodysuit?" he asked with a small smile.

"Mmhmm," you hummed, kissing his cheek and unzipping his flight suit as you pulled him toward the kitchen. "We have a wedding date."

His smile grew. "You gonna tell me when that might be, Kitten?"

"September third."

"Sounds perfect. And you gonna let me play with you and your kitten costume?"

You bit your lip. "You're really just going to be okay with getting married in a few weeks?"

"Of course," he rasped, kissing your neck. "I'm ready."

"Okay, Coach. And if you're really good, I'll put on my ears and whiskers after we get home later. Now eat your dinner."

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

Bradley had seen you drink before. But he had never seen you drunk before. It was highly entertaining. You and Molly were truly a sight to behold, both wearing skin tight tops and giggling. Even Bob looked like he was enjoying himself more than he had the past couple days as Molly clung to his side and kept tucking her hand up the hem of his shirt.

"Those sailors keep buying me drinks," you whispered so loudly, Bradley had to laugh. Sure enough, there were some guys at the bar who were buying drinks for all the women, hoping one of them would stick. "I've had like four whiskey sours," you said, holding up three fingers.

"You're so fucking good at math, Kitten," he replied, placing a kiss on the swell of your breast as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

When you giggled next to his ear, Bradley briefly considered taking you to the bathroom for a quickie. But to his dismay, he saw that Molly and Bob seemed to be on their way back there already.

"Well scratch that idea," Bradley murmured as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

"Rooster! Come play pool!" Nat called, and you started to push him toward the pool table.

"Go play with your friends," you insisted. "I'm going to get another drink and then look for Molly."

"Yeah, I wouldn't do that just yet," Bradley said with a grimace that he was sure just went right over your head. "And don't flirt with too many sailors, Kitten."

"I'm not, Coach," you insisted, patting his abs through his shirt. "But they are just so friendly. They won't let me pay for anything."

Bradley shook his head as you weaved your way back to the bar. He kept an eye on you as Penny served you another whiskey sour, and then he saw Molly and Bob stumbling back as he took a shot at the pool table. Bob's cheeks were flushed, and his hair and glasses were a mess. Bradley had never seen him look happier. Molly kissed Bob and then made a beeline for you, and Bob definitely wasn't the only one watching her walk away.

Bradley was laughing as Bob made his way to the pool table. "They're okay over there with those guys, right?" Bob asked, jerking his finger over his shoulder.

"You afraid Molly's going to ditch you or something?"

"I mean..." he started, adjusting his glasses and fixing his hair. "I didn't give her a ring yet. You're a step ahead of me. So honestly, I'm always a little afraid something like that's gonna happen."

"Bob. Get real, man," Bradley said, chuckling as he watched Nat obliterate him at pool. "She just rocked your world in the bathroom."

He stuttered for quite a while before he managed to say, "Yeah, but look at her. She's gorgeous."

"Give it up, Bob. You're stuck with her now."

"Hi," you said, wrapping your arms around Bradley's waist from behind. You managed to make that one word sound like it had about seven syllables while you laughed.

"You having fun?" he asked. "Not getting into trouble?"

You were swaying on your feet and laughing. Even Molly wasn't this bad, nursing her glass of wine and whispering something to Bob that was making him blush again.

"I'm being so good," you promised. "Jake bought me a drink."

"Of course he did," Bradley replied when Jake handed you a beer. "I'm going to have to keep a close eye on you whenever I bring you here. And you might not be allowed to wear this next time." He ran his knuckles along your bodysuit that fit you like a second skin, and you sighed. "The sailors can look, and they can spend their money on you, but they can't touch my Kitten."

"That feels good," you gasped, and Bradley kissed your nose.

"You'll feel even better when I get you home later."

You handed your beer to Bradley and sunk your fingers into his hair, leaving him standing awkwardly with the bottle in one hand and his pool cue in the other.

"I wish you were Ev's dad," you whispered against his lips.

He set the cue against a stool and wrapped his arm around you. "Me too, Kitten." Truly, he would love that. But he didn't need it. He already had the two of you which was more than enough. More family than he ever thought he'd get.

"You'd never force my hand like Danny is," you added softly, looking up at him with unfocused eyes and a soft smile. "Never."

He could feel the goosebumps on his arms as he asked, "What do you mean, Baby?"

"You know," you sighed, rubbing yourself against him. "I'm paying for a lawyer, and what good is it going to do? I can't get Danny's name off Everett's birth certificate. I can't get full custody and parental rights. I can't have anything except child support, which I don't even want, because he's going to be a complete jerk and contest it until I'm ready to scream. And I'll have wasted

thousands of dollars on nothing when we could have taken a vacation or something."

Bradley was stunned. This was way more information than you'd given him about what was going on. "Kitten, if you want to go on vacation, I'll take you and Ev anywhere you want to go. Or I can pay for your lawyer."

"You sound just like Molly!" you complained, booping him on the nose and squishing his lips together.

Bradley tried not to laugh as Molly looked up from kissing Bob. "Did you call me?" she asked, and you started laughing hysterically.

Bradley checked the time and shook his head. As the designated driver, he should probably round the three of you up and get everyone home and pick up Everett on the way. But now you and Molly were both over by the jukebox, dancing with Bob to whatever song was playing, and Bradley just didn't have the heart to break it up yet.

But thirty minutes later, he was carrying you out to the parking lot while Bob and Molly stumbled along as well. And now he was mentally planning a family vacation. Maybe to the mountains over Everett's winter break? Disney World in the spring? He didn't know what the two of you would want to do, but he'd make it happen. Hell, he could even take you and Everett up to Los Angeles for a weekend. Whatever it ended up being, it would be perfect.

And Bradley would let you know when you were sober that you were by no means finished with the conversation about Danny.

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

Coach Daddy Bradley has moved in. And the boys are getting a Phillies room. And they have a wedding date! Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 28

Don't forget to check out Bob and Molly in The Curveball!

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vbecker10 · 25 days

Text

Laundry Day

How Could This Not Fit?! (Loki x fem reader Y/N)

Loads of Fun (Bucky x fem reader Y/N)

Pairing: Loki x female reader (y/n)

Summary: You and Loki are living together in the Avengers Tower and you've asked him to help you with the laundry. You decide it's the perfect opportunity to prank him but that might not have been a good idea... not if you wanted to sleep tonight that is.

Warnings: ... um nothing really, alluding to sex but not much

A/N: I finished my laundry and was folding (trying desperately to fold) my fitted sheet and I came up with this silly little thing so... enjoy 💚

You take a bottle of water out of the fridge in the common kitchen, laughing to yourself as you shake your head.

"Something funny in the fridge?" Tony asks from the island, looking up from his tablet.

You turn to him and open the bottle. "No, I was just laughing about something that could possibly get me in a lot of trouble with Loki," you barely explain.

"I have no idea what that means," Steve says as he and Bucky join the conversation.

You take a sip of water and set the bottle on the island. "I was tired of being the one who did our laundry all the time so I told Loki he needed to help me with it today," you start to tell them.

"Still not seeing the funny," Tony says sarcastically.

"I'm getting there," you wave away his comment and he chuckles. "So anyway, I told him to help and he did... an okay job of it. I mean, the dryer and him got in a bit of a fight but we finally got it done," you continue.

"Did he break the dryer cause I've gotta do like four loads of laundry tonight?" Bucky asks concerned as he pulls out the stool next to Steve.

"How could you possibly have to do four loads of laundry?" Tony turns towards him. "You own one hoodie and three henleys at most," he adds.

"Can we get back to my problem?" you pull their attention back to yourself. "I might not have much time left," you joke but you aren't actually sure how long until Loki comes looking for you.

"What did you do to him?" Steve asks, sounding concerned for your safety. Loki would never hurt you of course, he loved you too much, but when you annoyed him you always found it hard to walk the next day.

"Well, he put all the laundry away using his magic but I told him that was cheating. He said it wasn't and we went back and forth for a bit until I made him a bet," you smile. Loki could never resist a wager, especially since he always assumed he would win, and he usually did. "I bet him... something," you suddenly realize you don't necessarily want the guys to know the dirty things you promised Loki and they all look away awkwardly for a moment as if they understood that.

"Right, whatever... so the bet was for him to make the bed himself, without his magic," you tell them.

"Look, I still don't like him very much but, give him a little credit. I think he's smart enough to figure it out," Bucky says.

"Yeah, that doesn't really seem like a bet you're going to win, Y/N," Steve agrees.

"Well... I might not have except for one teeny tiny little bitty detail," you assure them.

"Which is?" Tony asks with a mixture of curiosity and agitation that the story is taking so long.

"I switched the sheet set," you say, they all stare at you confused and you sigh. "I gave him a full size set... and we have a queen bed. There's not a chance in hell he's going to be able to get the fitted sheet on and if he does manage it, I'll know he used his magic and still win," you smile broadly, proud of yourself for tricking the trickster God.

"Well that's a dangerous game to play," Steve says and before you can respond you hear Loki coming down the hall.

"Y/N," he says when he enters the kitchen. You swallow as your mouth goes dry, he does not look happy. "You cheated," he says without question.

"No, I was just..." you try to explain but he walks towards you, keeping his eyes locked on yours.

"You... cheated," he says slowly as he backs you into the counter by the sink.

"I mean, only a little," you say with a smile but he doesn't smile back. "And I only did it to make sure you didn't use your magic," you quickly try to explain.

"Um, I think we should go... literally anywhere else," Steve says as Loki grips your waist with both hands and keeps you pressed between himself and the counter.

"Don't worry, we're leaving," Loki says with a smirk, still looking only at you. Without warning he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder. You gasp and the suddenness of it and he uses one arm to hold you in place by the back of your legs as he turns to leave the kitchen. He pauses and picks up your water bottle. "You'll need to keep hydrated, it's going to be a very long night, love," he says as he carries you down the hall towards your room.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚

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whitemancumslut · 1 year

Note

please more dadrry i am begging you. literally on my knees right now. i need more he is genuinely the hottest man ever and i am delusional enough to believe i am married to him. PLEASE

LOVE ME LIKE YOU DO

SUMMARY Y/n and Harry have sex in the kitchen.

CONTENT WARNING, smut (Minors DNI), UNPROTECTED KITCHEN SEX, oral (fem receive), creamiepie

WORD COUNT 3,582 words

i don’t know if you want smut or fluff so i gave you heavy smut:) we all love dadrry! enjoy this till the next harry x angel is out.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” The small child apologizes softly with her voice full of innocence, when the small blue cup tips and the lemonade spills on her father’s grey t-shirt, immediately printing a dark patch on the fabric. Fortunately, Harry caught the cup before it could drop on the floor. Harry’s quick to give his child an assuring smile, shaking his head. The cool beverage sinking into his shirt, sticking against his skin uncomfortably, but he’s brushing it off, not wanting his baby to think they did wrong.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s not a big problem, just a little spill, alright?” The little girl nods then scoops up a spoon full of mac and cheese while her dad grabbed napkins for his shirt.

A curious Y/n walked out of the laundry room just to see her husband removing his t-shirt. As old as they were, the years they’ve been together, it never failed to make her heart skip a beat. The back muscles came into view. As if she was 18 all over again, seeing this beautiful tatted teen for the first time. His toned back and his tense muscles relax as he finally got the wet cotton off him.

When he turns to see his wife he nodded towards her, acknowledging her presence in the room.

“What’s going on in here?” Harry’s head swoons l to the warm chirp of his wife’s voice. She stands in her dark red pajama silk set, her hair tied up, the sight forming immediate heart eyes in his pupils.

Their son was first to speak out, “She spilled her juice on Daddy!” Maeve’s eyebrows knitted as she’s appalled her brother called her out. “No, no. It was an accident,” She whined, dropping her small spoon on her plate.

“It was an accident, darling. Don’t worry about it anymore. You two finish up soon.” Harry told his his daughter before looking up at Y/n asking, “Did you already throw in the load?” He asks, patting down the damp area, the smell of lemon reflecting off him. He walked closer to Y/n, who gave him a nod.

“Yes, but thankfully I didn’t start it yet. I came out when I heard… this.” She grinned, referring to his wet shirt. She steps closer to him taking the shirt from his hands saying, “I’ll take this. Can you get the plates in the sink and baths ready?”

“Yes and yes. Thank you, love,” he said, pressing an innocent kiss to his wife’s temple with an arm around the small of her back. Little did he know that started a fire in her.

Being in love for almost two decades now, had four kids, and he still turned her on. Not much has changed. Yes, he grew a little belly but the dad bod look on him turned her on more. Yes, he grew a bit grey but it was even hotter. He was still the sexiest man she’s ever met. This weekend resulted in two out of their four children being home. For the weekend, their thirteen-year-old daughter and fifteen-year-old son spent the night at their friends’ house. Fortunately, they’re together because the friends are also siblings and Y/n and Harry trusted their parents, Ruth and Austin, considering they have been friends for years. They missed the kids, greatly. But it wasn’t like they were fully free to do whatever. They still had the two youngest in the house, and usually, they are a handful when their older siblings are around to bother them. But now they don’t have anyone to both but each other.

Harry and Y/n’s sex life was probably better than the average married couple’s with four kids. Although, as the kids grew older and more to themselves, Harry found himself getting less private time with his wife. The teens became teens who stayed up past midnight, whether it’s listening to music, binging their favorite shows, playing a video game, or on FaceTime with their friends, they were up. The two parents didn’t completely lack a sex life because they were always willing to have each other— just depending on the circumstances.

The rest of the night she couldn’t help but have butterflies in her tummy whenever her husband would do something. He looked really hot. A little excited she got that familiar feeling of arousal in her core as much as it pained her all night.

But about 30 minutes after the kids baths, they were sleeping safe and sound. Just tucked in by their mommy, hugs and kisses from both mommy and daddy. Y/n finally was able to act of her arousal. Walking down the stairs to see Harry was scrubbing the plates, deciding it’ll be quicker if he hand washed. His wife watched as his hand moved with the soapy towel he scrubbed with.

Y/n walked behind him, the sudden hand on his back made him jump a bit. “It’s just me,” She chuckled. He smiled as she pecked his shoulder comfortably. The kids are sound asleep,” She told him.

“Yeah? Did you check on Lily and Eli yet?” Harry asked on the children who weren’t in the house at the moment. It was hard enough to let them hang out with friends let alone a sleepover. But as the kids got older it got a little more easier to be more trusting of them not the outside world. They were mature, honest, trusting teens. It made the couple feel a whole lot better since they became friends with two siblings and are with each other all the time. Every other hour, they would shoot out a text to one of the teens phones, just making sure they’re okay. Always a good morning and goodnight text.

Y/n hummed softly against his soft skin. “Yes. Ruth told me they ordered pizza tonight,” She watched as his veins that were in his hands poked out as the dish soap fell down his wrist. Her stomach churning and her head gone black for a second as he scrubbed Maeve’s plate. He smelt delightful, she couldn’t put a exactly a name to it though. But it was making her even more horny.

That’s when Y/n inhaled and exhaled deeply, her breaths making the hairs in Harry’s skin stand up. She called his name gently. The little nickname, H, making his ears grow to listen to whatever his love was to say next. The hand of the woman trails on his back and across his muscles. “What do you say you and I head back to the bedroom, hmm?” She questions sweetly, though her voice is seducing as she stroked his tatted arm, watching as he stopped scrubbing the pan and looked down at his wife. So beautiful. Her eyes gleaming up at him.

Then, Harry began to feel her touch grow less innocent.

Harry turned to take a peak up at the staircase like he expected two little feet to ruin what could’ve been/ what was about to happen. His brows raise, “Really? Right now?” Already growing excited in short anticipation. She nodded, “Please.” Harry’s hands let the plastic plate he was washing fall inside the sink, clashing with pans. Before she could make a complaint about the loud noise, he grabbed her face in his hands, closing her mouth shut. She’s quick to note the change of demeanor and the meaning in his eyes that soon turned lustful. His grasp on her face making her arousal release from her, unwillingly. Pressing their lips together, Harry kisses her passionately, swearing to not waste this moment.

His lips top hers as he took the breath she breathed out. Allowing him to take control of her and the kiss. Harry tilted his head as did his wife, their lips fitting together like puzzle pieces. A fuzzy-headed Y/n pulls away from the kiss, due to her lack of air, “Fuck, H,” She huffed out mid-kiss, the opening of her mouth allowing his tongue to hungrily sweep past her lips and lick inside her mouth. Hands now on her waist, moving her back until her bum hit the kitchen island.

They made out like they needed this. They made out like two horny teens who only see each other two days of week. They made out like they were desperate for each others touch. Her hands met the back of his head, gripping his curls, prying him away from her mouth. Her intentions were to tell him to take this to the bedroom but his eyes dart to the view of her neck and dive down to hungrily suck on the skin. Savoring her flavor, sucking feverishly on her skin. His hands finding anywhere on her body. Her hips, her ass, her thighs.

Y/n pulled back from the kiss, eyes locked on Harry’s swollen lips pink lips that were soon shining when he darted his tongue across. The breathtaking woman in front of him is about breathless. Wanting more of her, Harry pulled her closer going in for another kiss but she pulled back again. “Fuck, baby. Let’s take this to the bedroom,” She moaned, trying her hardest not to prop herself up on the counter and have him fuck her right then and there. But it’s like he read her mind. Harry says, “How about I take you right here?” He replies huskily against her skin causing her thighs to tremble, and voice to stutter. Before she knew it he’s muttering the word, jump, and she’s hoisted up in his arms, letting him slide her on the counter. She was too horny to turn down his idea.

Running her fingertips on his broad naked shoulders, flames traveling through him. His cock grows harder the more her hands are on him and the more she moans against him. “We gotta keep it really low,” He tells her, sinking down to his knees as his fingers hook on the waistband of her pajamas. Once they’re down to her ankles, Harry doesn’t bother finishing the job because once he sees the wet patch in her red underwear he loses it. He huffs out a low, fuck, and let’s his hands ride up her thick thighs.

Y/n peaks down at her husband, making heart clenching eye contact but it breaks when her eyes trail down to his lips. A wide smirk spreads. “Shit, you’re so wet, honey.” He chuckled, almost mockingly. No shit, she thought. “You’ve must’ve been like this all night all huh, baby?” His voice is in a cooing tone as if he was mocking the act of sympathy. He rises up to his feet, placing himself in between his love’s thighs. His palm gets hot as it finds it way against her clothed pussy. That sensitive area heated and aching for attention.

She sucks in a sharp breath as his fingers clamp and he grips her pussy. Huffing out a desperate, yes, her voice is low, afraid she’ll awake her sleeping children. Gripping in the counter, practically bruising her fingertips. “Can you fuck me please?”

Her husband completely dismisses her question before asking, “You like when I do that to your pussy, hmm, darling?” Receiving a nod from his wife, he pats her sensitive clothed cunt like a dog, an unholy moan slipping from her throat. She answers, “Yes I do.”

“It’s been so long since I’ve actually been in you huh? Bet you all tight and shit, huh?”

She nods mindlessly, mentally begging him to just fuck her but damn he was enjoying himself. “I am, Harry,” She whimpered hopelessly. Ending her sentence with a small, please, a whimper following, as she did a small grind with her hips against his hand.

At this point, Harry’s breaths are hitting Y/n’s face as he slid his hand inside the waistband of her underwear, making her breath hitch and her to grip the countertop. Immediately going to her clit, pressing down and rubbing softly. She moans, throwing her head back, hair falling back on the counter.

Harry discreetly slipped one finger her small hole, her hole so soaping wet he just slid in. Tight, she was. She lets out a raspy, fuck, grinding her bare bum against the counter.

Harry leans in, allowing her to grab onto his shoulders, soon wrapping her arms around his neck. “Oh my fucking—” She digs her fingernails into the back of Harry’s neck as he slips in his ring finger.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You’re suffocating my fingers, baby.” He chuckles lightly, fingering her feverishly. “So. Fucking. Tight,” He purrs against her lips, licking into her agape mouth, finally locking their lips together after teasing her. He plunged his fingers inside her soapy, cock-deprived cunt. Crooking both fingers as she threw her head back at the toe curling sensation. She let out an unholy cry and mewl when her thighs tense as Harry finger fucks her so good.

Harry’s tongue plays with hers, getting all of her tastebuds. Savoring the taste of each other, the two moan as Y/n’s arousal trails down Harrys wrist. He continues the amazing pace and in and out—crooking motion with his fingers as she release a like of curse words when her first orgasm of the night is near. Repeatedly hitting her g-spot, Harry talks her through as he breathing gets out of rhythm. His words go muffled as her breathing and moans get louder.

The last words she heart before her orgasm were…

“Feels like forever since Ive been in you.”

“You’re going to come, babe? I know, I know.”

“Cum on my fingers, baby.”

His words are her confirmation. Her thighs shook, her feet banged gently against the lower cabinet as Harry’s eyes roll over her whole body. She trembled as her toes curled, her stomach churned, and eyes rolled back just as her cum slowly spills out onto Harry’s digits.

A high pitched moan crawls up her throat and out her mouth, she rides out her orgasm on the pads of his fingers. Her breaths are quick and uneven. Desperate to catch her breath. “There you go, so pretty. Fucking gorgeous,” He praised and guided his wife through it. Her around hooked around his neck lightened up and slid down his naked torso.

“Fuck,” Y/n heard the low groan causing her to look up to see her husband looking off her cum off his fingers. “So sweet,” He purrs. Harry looks down, making Y/n follow his gaze. His cock was fighting against the shackles of his sweatpants. “I’m not done yet, baby. My cock is so hard. Jus’ know it was jealous when it saw my fingers fucking you,” he smirks.

“Want you inside me. N-now,” She huffs, her cunt still desperate. “Please.” She watched as Harry began to pull down his sweats, peaking down as he did also began to pull down briefs. The skin of his cock is seen and she grows impatient. Her breathing just getting back to steady rhythm, her whines a little louder than before, muttering the word, hurry.

Harry shudders as the cool air of the kitchen hits his cock, that shoots up when he finally gets his pants down. Y/n whines, “God— H, please.” She doesn’t know the last time she seen his cock. Most likely last week for an early morning shag, but it was still so unfamiliar to her when she’s been with he kids and working all week.

“I know, baby. Lay back for me,” he commands politely. She does as her husband says and laid against the cold counter top, pussy on display. Her wet folds are aching with pleasure as is the rest of her body.

“Shit,” Harry jerked himself as he began to kneel. He didn’t want to take too much of her layers off in case a child was to come down the stairs but that’s why they kept quiet- so they wouldn’t wake them and so they could hear their little noises.

Harry began to kneel in front of her cunt that laid up on the counter top, head between her thighs. Y/n couldn’t see anything but the upside down living room that was set in front of her as her head was back and she awaited Harry’s affection. What she didn’t expect was for Harry to hungrily, rummage through her folds with his tongue, forcefully. Licking a wet stripe between her folds, tasting every bit of her pink pussy.

She mewls out, whining as his tongue plungers inside her wet hole. Letting out an exaggerated sob, Y/n wraps her legs around her husbands back as he kitty licked her cunt, his lips brushing past her sensitive parts. Fuckfuckfuck, she swarms on the counter, having Harry hold her thighs down as he pulls his tongue out and pressed it against her clit. Harry had his hand wrapped around his cock, moving it in a slow up and down motion. Jerking himself slowly, moaning hungrily against her sweet pussy, sending vibrations all throughout her body. Using his fingers to pull back the hood of her clit, wrapping his lips around it and sucking feverishly. She cries lowly, gripping onto the tight curls that her husband determinedly grew. He growled and shook his head as the grip on his hair turned him on more and more.

He tugged on his cock, squeezing as the precum dripped down his palm. His other hand, was rubbing Y/n’s inner thigh, slowly crawling up to her clit. Pressing his thumb against her sensitive bud, his tongue dived inside her, curling up like his fingers previously did. Y/n’s cries grew louder, her body oversensitive after her first orgasm and now she’s riding his tongue, on to her second orgasm.

“Fuck. I need to be inside you right now,” He groaned as he stood up quickly. The lost of his tongue made Y/n gasp and cry out. But Harry doesn’t let her pussy go long without attention. He continues to rub her clit forcefully, before teasingly, slaps his heavy cock against her cunt, making her cry. As much as he wanted to be inside her, so so badly, her cries were fucking beautiful.

The tip of his cock pressed against her clit as it slipped down with her soapy mound. “Please, H, please.” Her quiet pleads deceive him as he finally slips his tip in, large soft hands lay on her hips as he tilts in. “Holy shit,” He curses under his breath.

His nails immediately stick inside her hips. Harry rolls his hips meeting with hers, their skin meeting and slapping. Their rhythm is slow at first. Enjoying the intimacy of the moment. His balls slap against the bottom of her folds as he fucks into her passionately.

“Oh my god,” She moans. She’s unable to keep her moans in as much as she’s like as Harry’s tipping inside her.

“Pleasepleaseplease, fuck!”

“Shh, shh. Baby come,” He whispered, pausing his thrust and tugging on her wrist. Pulling a tad, motioning for her to lift her upper body and meet him halfway. She does as he wants and swings herself up, unable to keep steady with the long heavy cock that’s stomach deep inside her. Just moving made her moan.

Harry held her lower back with his left hand, moving closer to her pressing his lips against hers. Kissing her softly, Harry rolled his hips back and forward, his cock hitting her g-spot perfectly now that she was angled up on the counter. “Argnnn, ple—” Y/n’s cries are covered by Harry’s enticing kiss, keeping her steady as they moved their hips rhythmically. His right hand moved on top of her clit, using his wide thumb to rub gently.

She whined against his lips, muffled moans, all of it satisfying him. “Jus’ like that baby. Stay quiet,” He muttered, keeping her lips on his. She would tremble in his arms whenever he hit that spot and he would groan whenever she’d tighten around him. Rocking in and out of her, the kitchen echoed with the soft sounds of their naked skin meeting.

Fuck, Harry was being nasty with it. One thing you loved about Harry was that he was great at multitasking. He licked inside her mouth, tongue finding hers as she submissively let him play inside her mouth. Their salivas mixing as Harry fucked into her cunt, their orgasms coming closer and closer. Harry’s eyes roll to the back of his head as his cock enjoyed her soaked cunt hugging it tight, almost suffocating it.

She could feel him so deep inside her. In her guts, just about it.

A breathless Harry pulled away from the heated kiss and said, “Fuck, I’m so close.” His thigh muscles tightening and growing sore as did Y/n’s whole body. Her body began to feel numb as her eyes roll back again in ecstasy. “So so good, H. Baby fuck, I can’t. I’m cumming,” She warned him breathlessly.

She couldn’t feel her legs. “Me too, me too. Come on baby” His breath shuddered and cracked as his cock twitches inside her cunt, spurting his cum inside her. He moans into her ear lowly as she unravels as well, her moans are high pitched, harmonizing with him. It was hot, sweaty. Curses left their mouths as their breaths are lost in the air and the search for oxygen begins. “Holy fucking shit,” He muttered. His cock warms her for just a little bit more until he slips out making her feel immediately empty. She whines as her stretched hole leaks with cum of her own and her husbands.

“Did we really just have sex on the kitchen counter?” She exhales, shaking her head.

“Yes we did angel. How about I deep clean this counter while you get us a hot bath, hmm?”

She didn’t know how she managed to walk up the stairs and into the bathroom but she did. That night resulted in late night back rubs in a warm bath and another toe curling orgasm to end the night off right.

TAGGED @watercolorskyy @gxbiqs @lolarmy72 @hsonlyangelxo @theroosterswife24 @sad1esgf @gigisworldsstuff @princessmiaelicia @justlemmeadoreyou

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nc-vb · 8 months

Text

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐮𝐥, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐥𝐝

it is said that distance makes the heart grow fonder. instead, it only proves to make the water levels rise a few millimeters.

pairing -> neuvillette x gn!reader

warnings -> sfw, sad neuvi & reader, smooching

notes -> reader's position is a non-canon one

character mentions -> lady furina, fontaine npcs, non-canon melusine characters

wc -> 2.1k

It wasn’t so often that the paths of you and your lover could so seamlessly cross.

As one might assume, governing a nation is not a walk in the park, nor is it a part-time position. It is a twenty-four-seven, midnight-to-midnight, no-matter-how-small-the-crisis job that someone has to take responsibility for— with Monsieur Neuvillette, the Chief Justice, leading the charge of each court proceeding and Lady Furina as its grandest witness, and you, the Maison Ordalie's Directeur Général, helping them to uphold Fontaine’s values and protecting its honour from outside the marbled walls of the Opera Epiclese, Fontaine is a tightly-run ship that seldom allows for its men to enjoy much free time.

Though when it did, finally exiting the realm of your job responsibilities only then meant having to catch up on your neglected home responsibilities— tackling the towers of only partially rinsed dishes; taking out the trash you just knew would be stinking up your foyer since you’d put it there three days ago (which had been the last time you’d even been inside your home); rewashing the load of laundry you’d run out of time to hang up to dry and now was, most likely, moulding from being left in basket, still damp. Ah, and there’s probably so much more you’d been forgetting about.

This cyclic routine of yours had become nauseating a long time ago, only proving capable of transfiguring your already sour mood into something brazenly foul. Typically, there were very few things to exist that could improve it again, but the soft, muffled knocking on your front door by one of your sweet Melusine neighbours when she realized you’d finally returned home, fortunately, is one of those few things.

More often than not, she would bake once the weekend began, knowing you to be around at least long enough to be able to consume perhaps one of her newly learned confections. Somedays, you’d even been lucky enough to sit and enjoy them together whilst enjoying the views from under your shared garden’s gazebo. Being that you lived on the first floor of a three-floored pied-à-terre with three other Melusine living above you, who had also been found lucky to have much more manageable lifestyles, they often cared for the plants of the garden when you could not.

Even luckier for you, though, was having such kind neighbours that would go out of their way to take care of those aforementioned chores for you. Garden tended; garbage bags mysteriously vanished from the inside stoop; dishes sparkling clean and put away in their respective cupboards; laundry thought a lost cause having been hung up, dried, and folded, awaiting your return for them to be returned to their drawers— none of this had been you. Elsie, your second floor neighbour, had been the culprit, you learn, having rounded up her sisters Elie and Eloie two days prior to your return to surprise you.

“Have you seen Monsieur Neuvillette lately?” Elsie inquires, looking up to you from her place on your stoop. When you step aside to let her in, she shakes her head, lavender-coloured ears whipping about. “I won’t be staying. I only came to say hello and to give these to you.”

“Oh, I see,” you say, accepting the circular tin she raises toward you. Cracking it open a few inches, you smile at the soft treats. “Madeleines! Thank you, Elzie. And, to answer your question, no… I haven’t seen him lately… not even for work.”

“You’re quite welcome. Please find time to share them with the Monsieur today, then. Sedene mentioned he looked restless this morning.”

Without missing a beat, your heart skips one of its own, and your expression twists habitually guiltily. You know full well your absence from him, and vice versa, isn’t to be helped, and that the two of you have had this same conversation many times over. But it never proves to help whenever someone else points out either of your miseries.

You’d always thought the Palais Mermonia to be particularly cold, in company’s sense. It never mattered that it was always full of people, of employees, and even of Lady Furina’s raucous, nails-on-a-chalkboard cackle of a laugh, because you knew its Chief Justice much too well. In spite of his assurances that he would be alright, mind occupied by having to organize new cases and sort out the old ones, it wouldn’t be too long of a time later that you found the skies overcast, and yourself drenched by a sudden downpour.

You supposed, after saying your farewells to Elsie, locking your front door, and making your way to the other end of the Court of Fontaine, that today would be no different. Of course, you remembered to carry your parasol on you this time, accompanied by the tin of fresh-baked madeleines you promised Elsie to eat up. Today, the sky was shining blue, quite literally only minutes ago. So, either something sad or distressing has crossed his path, or, he’d been feeling sentimental again, because it’s raining again.

At the very least, you hope the cause for it to be the latter. This way, it can easily be remedied by you appearing before him, rather than him being consumed by the details of a case so heavily, and for an unspecified period of time. And there have been too many of these as of late that compared to last year’s weather, one might consider the possibility of that prophecy coming true just a little sooner.

Clutching the cookies tighter to you and keeping a firm grip on the handle of your parasol, you hasten across the bridge of the Court Region Waterway untoward the Palais Mermonia, greeting Bruneau and Liath and Plessia as you pass. The main doors are heavy, but even with your arms full, you manage to pry one of them open enough to enter the building.

You don’t both to carry your umbrella with you — it would just be yet another mess the building’s staff would have to trail after you for to clean — and instead shove it into the corner to let it drip there, telling the one guard that you would return for it, and them saluting you in acknowledgement.

Inside the Palais Mermonia has always been a plethora of people, staff and guards and visitors alike, but it is as you’d said— there’s a certain degree of emptiness to it that unsettles you whenever you visit here. Perhaps the grave amount of case files that sat in the archives surrounding Monsieur Neuvillette’s office cast such a dreary spell over the place; having been the one to compile many of them, yourself, for his records, you know firsthand just how dark some of their contents had been— to have to pass those off and share them with your lover had been your major grievance for your position. There’d been nothing you hated more than sitting in during his readings and seeing his expression change from the joy of having you appear to him, to the rage and sorrow of taking in the details of a new case. In those moments, you made sure to hold him a little tighter, a little closer, and speak just a little sweeter to him, a little softer.

The rain would, eventually, subside.

You push open the door to his office as gently as possible, and shut it just as carefully so as not to startle him. Without looking first to confirm, you know that he sits at his desk, pouring over the day’s files and records while it pours outside. His stoicism masked the obvious, though at least, this had been to you only— something was weighing heavily enough on his mind that it’d begun to affect the weather outside. Spending enough time with the man made this easy to tell.

“Neuvillette,” you softly call to him when he’d yet to look up. He jerks slightly in his seat, stiff shoulders losing their tension upon recognizing your voice, and the corner of his lips rise before his eyes can even meet yours.

“My love.”

If having you appear in a room filled with such disheartening unkindness is his relief, yours had always been the advent of a smile on Neuvillette’s face. A rare glimpse of the peace you often find yourself daydreaming over while away, the rush of pure joy you feel at the sight of your lover relishing your presence is nearly akin to the blessing of the gods— you only embrace him tightly enough and hope this feeling reaches him.

Nose pressed into the side of your head, hands and arms cradling you almost impossibly close to him, he breathes you in as deeply as physically possible— yes, his gesture promises.

You raise your chin from his chest and peer up at him, grin lazed and tired but pleased all the same.

“You were finally released from your duties?”

“If it were easy to delegate them to my juniors, it might’ve taken less time to escape,” you muse, hands sliding down his robes to claim his hands in yours— he squeezes them gently, grateful. “No one seems to know how to write a proper report anymore; I feel like I’m grading homework.” Neuvillette laments at the sudden shift in your expression, its complete opposite serving to dim the light in your eyes. By the way your grip tightens beneath his fingers, he supposes it must have little to do with your subordinates, after all.

“It’s… been raining for so long now,” you mumble into him, cookie tin forgotten atop his desk. “I tried to hurry to you, I-I…”

Neuvillette’s hand shifts along one of yours, quick to fit thin, nimble fingers in between your trembling ones. He lifts it, and presses your palm and fingertips into the smooth, porcelain coolness of his cheek— few words are found necessary, you’d both once agreed, as he’d always been a man of sterling gestures over forced sentimentality. In each glance, each touch, each curve of his lips upward, his vehemence never went unnoticed; it’d simply been his brand of love— demure and chaste, but abundant. There’d been no questioning his intention.

“I would sooner give up my position if it meant I could stay at your side at all times, if it meant you wouldn’t cry so much. If it meant you wouldn’t suffer alone.” Neuvillette sighs, a would-be defeated sound if not for remembering who he was standing with. “I… feel useless on days like these when I’m not with you.”

“Justice cannot relent so long as villainy works around the clock. It is our sworn duty to see such justice prevail, after all.” Neuvillette swipes a thumb over your lip, and subconsciously, you lean into his palm almost delightedly. “And you have done so beautifully, and without malice. Every word written in those reports from your juniors, while, written juvenilely, speak of your fairness. Your impartiality. Your ability to see both the truth and the good in all.” He turns his hand, pressing his lips into your palm. “It is admirable. It is my pride for you. It is why, as much as I wish you could stay at my side, as you said, I hope you can see the value and honour you bring in helping to protect Fontaine. I can’t imagine many else doing so well as you do.”

You raise your free hand back up to his chest, and push. A fraction of a single second is spent wide-eyed and confused until Neuvillette’s legs hit one of the many couches within the four walls of his office, and he is forced off-balanced into its plush. Your other hand gone unrelinquished, you fall with him, knees parted to either side of his and dipped deep into the cushion; Neuvillette’s breath hitches unnoticeably, yet at your sudden embolden proximity, his pale cheeks burn with vermillion.

“I’m supposed to be comforting you, you know,” your murmur.

A kiss to his temple, to the swell atop his cheek, to the button of his nose, and to the cleft of his lip— you lower yourself into his lap, parted lips dropping to slot between his and hands rising to thread into his strands of falling starlight, pulling him ever closer into you. It’s not enough, simply consuming him. You only wish to drown his sorrows, by whatever means necessary and however possible. If this means only having mere moments to appear before him, to deliver him sweets and treats of various kinds — not including yourself, of course — and holding him as tenderly as you do now for what seconds you must have left before having to leave again—

Tongue posed at his lower lip, your gaze is brought to the side and through the glass of the window. The rain. It stopped.

“And I can promise… you’re doing a fine job of it, my love.”

#favoniuslibrary #neuvillette x yn #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette fluff #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #crying bc i'm posting this at 445am and i have to be up for work in 2 hours but i wanted it DONE tho there was more i wanted to say in it..#hope neuvi liked the cookies tho #✦ nc vb.#neuvillette

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wileys-russo · 8 months

Note

please write a blurb about finding out that Lessi takes street dancing lessons, going with her to one and then her just being so clumsy!!! It’s so funny

this is longer than anticipated and went in a slightly different direction. starts off a little angsty but the end is super fluffy, still made me giggle

fancy footwork II a.russo

you sighed and tried your very best not to let your mind slowly descent into wildly overthinking the situation as you tapped your phone screen and saw it was now nearing seven, and there was still no sign of alessia.

your girlfriend had finished training at half past four and was supposed to come right home, but given it was hours later and she wasn't picking up her phone she'd clearly failed to inform you of plans she'd made.

well, thats what you were trying to tell yourself. it would be a whole lot easier if this was the first time this had happened, however it was not.

for the last two weeks alessia had seemed not herself, often home late without a real reason, or dipping off to do mystery errands and odd jobs at weird times, returning in different clothes and seemingly a lot more tired than when she left, shutting down any questions you had with a kiss and a swift change of topic.

at first you thought it could be anxiety and this was her way of coping, your girlfriend had previously suffered with it quite badly leading up to selection for the euros, panicking her hamstring would play up again or tweak and leave her out of the squad.

it had meant she'd trained harder, done extra drills, asked for more one on ones with the physio and the trainers.

only you knew in your gut this time that just wasn't the case.

you'd like to think the two of you had healthy communication down to a tee, rarely arguing or getting into rows that weren't the cause of playful banter.

on the rare occasions you did seriously disagree it was seldom that any sort of yelling was involved, you both going out of your way to listen to the other and do your best to try and meet them halfway at least if unable to see eye to eye.

your head snapped up as you heard the jingle of her keys in the door, sat curled up on the lounge with a book in your lap. you frowned when she didn't even call out that she was home like she normally would, only slipping off her trainers and closing the door after her.

"hi love." she greeted you with a tired smile, making no move toward you and instead heading upstairs toward your bedroom with her bag slung over her shoulder.

you sat for a second, internally debating if you followed her or not, eventually deciding you would as you marked your page in your book and placed it down on the coffee table. you jogged upstairs and found the blonde in your shared bedroom, riffling through her kit bag.

"what's a girl gotta do for a kiss hello?" you started lightly, poking at your girlfriend who turned toward you. "sorry, hi." alessia simply pecked your lips before turning back to her kit bag, separating the clean clothes from the dirty and you frowned at the lackluster show of affection.

"you alright?" you asked quietly, moving to place your hand on top of hers and giving her a look of concern as she glanced to you. "i'm fine, just exhausted." she answered shortly, pulling her hand away and bundling her dirty clothes up in her arms, heading toward the laundry.

"did training run late? i know the derbys this weekend and they can sometimes push you harder leading up to it." you followed, pushing yourself up to sit on top of the dryer as the taller girl began to put on a load of washing.

"no, training was fine." she murmured quietly and you let an awkward silence fall between the two of you, waiting to see if she'd make any efforts to further the conversation.

"did you do something afterwards then?" you pressed, not missing the way the girl tensed up at the question. "uh just got coffee with tooney, we caught up with jill at box2box." she answered, refusing to look up or meet your eye which sent further alarm bells ringing through your head that you tried to shut off.

"you should have told me babe i wasn't doing anything." you continued, nudging her with your foot and frowning as she pushed it away. "we don't have to do everything together, it's good to have separate friends and hobbies." the blonde replied somewhat bluntly, squatting down to fiddle with the settings of the washer.

"oh, yeah i guess you're right." you tried to mask the hurt in your voice at the comment which was incredibly out of character for the striker, the two of you normally going out of your way to do everything together, forever joking there wasn't something you couldn't turn into a two person job.

"i'll go start dinner then." you stated quietly, trying to hide the red flush of embarrassment that sat on your cheeks from the thought that your girlfriend might think you were clingy. trying to silence the doubts and insecurities which flew through your head at just a simple comment.

though glancing upward and seeing the obvious discomfort on your face guilt flooded your girlfriends features and she quickly straightened, moving to stand in between your legs, stopping you from getting down from where you sat atop the dryer.

"hey that was really rude of me to say baby i'm so sorry. i didn't mean it like that i promise, i love spending time with you." she cupped your face, pressing a much more sincere kiss to your lips and mumbling a soft i love you against them.

"its okay, you're not wrong. it isn't unhealthy to do some stuff separately." you forced a smile, still feeling a little uneasy at this piling on top of your previous worries about her frequented disappearances.

"i really am sorry gorgeous, i'm just tired and didn't think before i spoke. i missed you." she pulled you into a tight hug, the taller girl resting her chin on your shoulder and gently moving your arms to wrap around her. "i missed you too." you replied softly, sighing into her shoulder before the two of you broke apart.

"less, you'd tell me if anything was up with us right?" you asked hesitantly, the blondes eyebrows knitted into a frown as you did, both from the use of her common nickname which you rarely resorted to, much preferring more tender and sweet terms like baby or angel, and from the content of the actual question.

"of course i would baby. why?" alessia asked in return, worry seeping quickly into her bones as you shook your head. "nothing, it's silly. i'll go start dinner!" you forced another smile and tried to get down but the striker stopped you.

"hey, where's this coming from? talk to me." the blonde encouraged softly, grabbing your hands in hers and running her thumbs tenderly over your knuckles. "just drop it less, like i said it's silly, nothing even." you assured but it was to no avail as her blue eyes pierced into yours, waiting for you to explain.

"it really is nothing baby, you just didn't tell me you had plans with ella so i didn't know where you were after training and you didn't answer your phone and i just got a little worried." you spoke quickly in explanation, fiddling with one of your girlfriends rings as her hands still remained connected with yours.

"oh love, i thought i told you this morning i'd be back late. i'm sorry for worrying you, and i'm sorry i didn't include you in the plan in the first place." your blonde lover apologized sincerely and you nodded in acceptance toward her words.

"if it makes you feel any better jill and ella pretty much spent the whole time teasing me about how in love with you i am, apparently i talk too much about you at training!" the blonde rolled her eyes playfully before peppering all over your face with kisses, grinning as you finally laughed and sent her a proper smile, kicking her away.

"come on, i don't think i can be bothered to cook and clean honestly. get a chinese, cuddles and a movie?" your girlfriend asked hopefully and you eagerly agreed, squealing as she picked you up off the dryer, hands sitting securely under your thighs as she walked the two of you downstairs, seemingly much more herself than before.

but despite the reassurance you still couldn't shake the small voice of doubt sat firmly in the back of your mind.

it wasn't till days later, match day to be exact, did those voices get louder.

"oi oi if it isn't the future mrs russo!" you heard a familiar voice tease as you stood waiting for your girlfriend to change and come and meet you, leaning against the door of her car. "hello mrs bunney!" you teased back with a grin, the brunette gasping and smacking your shoulder as she joined you.

"he's gonna be the future mr toone actually thank you, if he's so lucky!" ella flipped her hair over her shoulder dramatically making you laugh. "when do you propose then? should we go ring shopping?" you mocked, the girl dropping her bag to the ground and playfully shoving you, the two of you catching up for awhile.

"so i heard you and less caught up with dear jill scott the other day, surprised i didn't see her here flying the man city flag high and yelling insults. how is she?" you made the mistake of asking, ellas face scrunching in confusion at your words.

"eh? when?" ella asked with a frown and now you were the one to look confused. "wednesday after training. less said she was late home cause the two of you got coffee and caught up with jill?" you questioned, your heart leaping into your throat as ella shook her head.

"nah man wednesdays date night for me and bunny." ella explained and suddenly it was as if your world came crashing down, the repeated excuses of going for a run with ella or a coffee with ella or a kick around with ella on wednesdays flowing through your head.

"hey, you alright?" ella asked softly, grabbing your arms as you locked eyes with her, nodding as you spotted alessia making her way toward the two of you. "yeah fine, maybe she just got mixed up." you forced a smile as ella nodded slowly, alessia arriving and throwing her arms over both your shoulders.

"ah my favourite girl, and you're here too babe." the blonde teased, the jab which normally would only be met with a playful roll of your eyes and a ribbing hit back toward her from you. though this time you shoved her arm off, quickly moving around to the passenger side of the car and slipping inside.

alessia frowned at your moody response and looked to ella with a raised eyebrow who shook her head, mumbling she needed to go and legging it away toward her own car. "what was that?" your girlfriend asked as soon as she closed her door, eyes burning holes into the side of your head.

"you lied." was all you responded sharply, only confusing the blonde across from you who awaited a further explanation, which didn't arrive. "when?" she questioned again, turning her body in her seat to face you more, keys laying dormant in her lap as the carpark cleared, her white mercedes now one of the only vehicles left in the lot.

"you told me you were home late from training because you got coffee with ella, you didn't." you again responded quickly and bluntly, not missing the guilt which flickered across your girlfriends face as you did.

"baby-" "don't." you warned her seriously, now turning to face the blonde properly as you readied yourself, more upset with her than you could ever remember being.

she'd never lied to you before, and you hated lies.

"you spun me some lovely story about seeing jill and being teased for how much you love me and how much you gush over me at training. all bullshit! why? where were you really?" you asked seriously, doing your best not to raise your voice despite your growing frustrations.

"my love-" "don't alessia. where were you?" the blonde winced at the use of her name, biting her tongue as not to beg you call her anything but that. "it doesn't matter, i shouldn't have lied."

"no you shouldn't have! and it does matter, it matters to me. you know i hate lying and if it doesn't matter to you then it can't be that big. so tell me, where were you?" you asked firmly, the blonde only sighing and refusing to meet your eyes, drumming her fingers nervously on the steering wheel.

"well? where were you?" you questioned again, a little louder this time and only met with silence, a pained look on your girlfriends face causing your stomach to drop.

"alessia are you cheating on me?" you eventually whispered out, the anger seeping from your body replaced with a crippling worry as you finally voiced the insecurities which had been plaguing your mind for weeks now.

"am i what? baby no, never. i promise!!" the taller girls head snapped immediately toward you and she scrambled to grab your hands which you promptly tugged away, tucking them in your own lap.

"why would you say that? why would you even think that?" alessia whispered in disbelief, the shock not having cleared from her face.

"well lately you seem to be coming and going a lot and without much explanation why, and always at weird times. you come back sweaty and in different clothes, and i know ella see's joe on a wednesday so all those times you used her as a scapegoat when it was that day, were obviously more lies." you explained quietly, looking out the window instead of at her, unable to stand the look of hurt visibly evident on the taller girls face.

"i can explain all of that, but i promise on everything i am not cheating on you. i love you so much that it hurts and i would never ever take that for granted, you're the best thing in my life." alessia rambled, reaching out again for your hand as you only shrunk away from her and the blonde deflated.

"well go on then." "what?" "you said you can explain all of that, explain then." "can we just drop it? but i promise its not cheating."

"just drop it?" your head snapped toward your girlfriend who paled at her poor choice of words which had clearly upset you further. "you don't get to lie and make me empty promises and then not explain yourself alessia." you warned, trying to open her door as the girl quickly locked them.

"let me out." "no." "explain then!" "no." "alessia you better let me out of this car or i swear to god-" "okay fine! just stop calling me alessia." "explain then...alessia."

"you have to promise you won't laugh." your girlfriend warned seriously and the anger present in your features melted at her choice of words, replaced instead with confusion.

"promise!" alessia stated firmly again, holding up her pinky as you gave her a look of disbelief. "baby! promise me." alessia warned and you rolled your eyes but linked your pinkies none the less and mumbled you promised.

"oh god." alessia sunk down into her seat, dragging her hands down her face with a troubled sigh. "i've been taking dance classes." she mumbled into her hands as she buried her face in them and you frowned, assuming you'd heard her incorrectly.

"pardon?" "i've been taking dance classes." "dance classes?"

"yes! in secret, every wednesday at five thirty. but i'm so bad at it that i've been getting some extra help from the teacher when he's free. who is a flamboyantly gay man by the way!" she was quick to add in, aware of how this could come across.

"you've been taking....dance classes." "yes." "why?" "well i read an article that said it helps athletes with their performance, helps them loosen up their bodies as well as shape and tone, and with the world cup incoming i have to be at my best." "what sort of dance helps with football?" "...street dance."

"like...hip hop? popping and locking and all that?" you bit down on your bottom lip to stop the grin which so badly wanted to take over your face as the blonde nodded.

"yeah. but don't laugh! you promised." alessia warned seriously, though biting the inside of her cheek to stop her own smile from spreading.

"so instead of just telling me about this, you kept it hidden and we had to have our first proper row and i had to think you were cheating on me to finally find out." you sighed as alessias face turned guilty once again and she slowly nodded.

"oh less." you shook your head in slight amusement, the blonde apologizing over and over as she grabbed your hands, sighing in relief when you finally let her take them.

"i guess taking street dance classes is probably more embarrassing than cheating anyway." you commented casually, shock and offence flashing across the older girls face as you eventually gave in, letting laughter wrack at your body.

"you promised you wouldn't laugh!" alessia whined with a pout, though seeing the clear humor in the situation she eventually joined in, the car filled with the symphony of your laughter, both of you clutching at your stomachs and wiping tears from your eyes.

"lessi baby you are such a dope."

you eventually filled ella in on what happened, the brunette insisting that you come clean about what happened with the coffee shop lie, alessia was unimpressed but understood she was in the wrong.

though that didn't stop her from refusing to let either one of you go to class with her, or reveal anything else about them, changing the subject anytime it came up or distracting you with a cheeky hickey or her tongue down your throat anytime you pressed the issue.

which is how you'd ended up here, it was a chilly wednesday afternoon and you were crammed into ellas car with the seats leant all the way back, the two of you peering at your girlfriend as she parked, locking her car and heading into the dance studio.

"tooney i don't know about this! it feels wrong." you stressed, fiddling with the strings of your hoodie as the head of blonde hair disapeared inside and ella commanded you both sit up and get out of the car.

"oh don't go mushy and moral on me now man, come on!" ella shot out of the car and you groaned quietly but followed none the less, the two of you hurrying across the car park toward the studio, crouching down by the window as the room inside pulsed from the bass of the music blasting out of it.

"okay on three we look, but we have to be subtle. she can't know we were here!" ella commanded and you nodded firmly, the girl counting down on her fingers before the two of you popped your heads up, peering over the edge of the window.

you both exchanged a look of shock watching alessia dance along to the beat with the class.

well...try to dance.

the poor girl flung her long limbs around and did her best not to fall at the eratic movement, rolling her body and popping her hips terribly out of beat as she tried to keep up with the rest of the class.

as the blonde tripped over herself and went tumbling to the floor tooney let out a sudden loud boom of laughter, your face paling as she smacked her hand over her mouth and the two of you ducked down.

though not before the older blonde had spotted the two of you, hurrying to her feet and mumbling an apology as the class resumed and she burst out of the studio doors, looking around before her eyes locked in on the two of you and narrowed.

"shit we made it angry. go!" ella grabbed you as the two of you jumped to your feet and sprinted away, alessia charging after you with a yell, her long legs meaning she came closer and closer as you and ella neared her car at the other end of the lot.

"tooney save yourself man!" you yelled out dramatically as your girlfriend caught you, tanned arms wrapping you around you and trapping you in their strong hold.

"i'll never forget your sacrifice!" the brunette saluted and wiped away fake tears, diving into her car and peeling out of the lot, yelling out she'd see alessia at training tomorrow before she zoomed away.

"hello footloose." you teased, tilting your head back to look up at your girlfriend who glowered down at you with a glare. "i hope that was worth it, because now i am going to kill you." you laughed as the taller girl dragged you with her toward her car, already deciding she wasn't going back to class today.

"tooney will make sure the police find out who did it." "my best friend? i'm sure i can sway her to take my side as an alibi." "okay ouch." "plus, no body no crime. i'm gonna drown you in the river babygirl."

"okay my love lets just start off slow. finding the beat and following the rhythm." you instructed softly, you and alessia stood facing one another in the living room, having moved some furniture around so the space was more clear.

with much persistence you'd managed to convince her to let you help her with her dancing, the poor girls private lessons only furthering her embarrassment as they did very little to help her keep up in class.

so once she'd told you she was going to quit you took matters into your own hands to stop that happening, and here you were.

clicking play on the music you started to move your body from side to side with the beat, clicking along as you did so, alessia watching you intently before you encouraged her to join in.

"see? just relax baby, stop thinking about it so hard and just....move."

it was around two hours later but you'd already made progress, you stood up on the lounge clapping along to the beat as your girlfriend rolled her body along and started to finally get a hold over the routine.

"yes! see you're doing it!" you cheered her on excitedly as she finally made it all the way through without tripping over. "okay now freestyle, remember what i said no thinking, just move." you ordered as the song changed and you continued to clap along to the beat.

"go lessi, go lessi, go lessi, go lessi." you chanted over and over as your girlfriend danced around the room, spurred on by your encouragement.

"baby you did it!" you yelled happily as the song ended and you launched yourself at her from the lounge, the taller girl catching you in her arms as you pressed your lips to hers, her hands squeezing your thighs as your legs wrapped around her.

"hey where are you going? we're not done yet you only did the routine all the way through once!" you laughed and pulled away as she began to walk the two of you towards the stairs.

"well tesoro i think this has been so successful that we need to continue this little private lesson in the bedroom."

#woso x reader #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #engwnt #woso blurbs

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mediumgayitalian · 2 months

Note

Hiiiiii

Okay so I am absolutely obsessed with your writing .

Every day I check Tumblr to see if you've uploaded anything

When they move in together how do you think they will spilt the chores ?

And do you think their aesthetic would change as they grow older ?

Thank youuu

Love youuu

OH i love this. okay.

when they move in together, how do you think they will split the chores?

they do not.

they are in an interesting situation: nico has never had to do chores in his life. as a kid, he was the son of Literal Hades and an aristocrat, he for sure had people doing that shit for him. in the lotus, they presumably had room service. he may have had to do a few chores at the military school, but a) they weren't there for long and b) as an older sister with a younger brother, bianca was doing that shit for him. she ordered him to make his bed, he did a horrible job, she huffed and did it herself because it's more of a pain in the ass to make your brother do it again than it is to do it yourself. bianca i get you. after that he was homeless, so there was obviously no cleaning there, and then he lived in his father's palace. he has never so much as done a load of laundry except maybe hastily with a public washroom sink and a bar of soap. he barely knows what a mop is.

will, on the other hand, has been in charge of both a cabin and a literal infirmary since he was 13 years old. on top of that, if i am not mistaken (i'm so sorry i still havent read toa and tsats im getting there i swear), he grew up on a farm. his ass knows how chores work, in fact i would bet money that he gets a little obsessive when it comes to cleaning. he is acutely aware of how many germs are on every single surface ever. he cleans and he does it a lot.

this could go really badly, because habit would indicate that will would be doing all of the housework and nico none, which is Bad For Relationships.

however:

nico really likes will.

will is a massive hypocrite who overworks himself. he also is a bit of a control freak.

nico is also very, very observant.

i think, in the beginning of their friendship, even, nico noticed that will, like bianca, would let the onus of cleaning and tidying fall to him because 'no one else does it right', and also, maybe, it's just easier not to fight people about it. i think this would bother him. i think he would, in his inability to, like, be normal, impulsively challenge will to a cleaning contest.

and. like. will is a competitive person, okay. maybe not about things he knows he can't win, but when he knows he's good at something? he is not letting that shit slide. look at how fast he was to dunk on octavian, how prickly he got when nico doubted his ability to outrun the romans. if nico, who will knows damn well has done like four chores in his life, tries to challenge will, mr. antiseptic is my closest friend solace, to a cleaning contest?

he is going to sweep the floor with him.

pun absolutely intended.

from there things kind of spiral. at first it's a dorky ass learning curve, because nico loses every cleaning competition so so badly and quit fucking laughing, solace, you dickead, the windows are not that streaked and also watch me spray you in the goddamn eyes, huh, how do you like that and it's just kind of...fun. for the first time in a long time cleaning up doesn't make will quietly bitter.

plus, as an added bonus, nico helping will clean up makes it less invisible when he does it. now people are starting to notice that, no, the infirmary does not magically clean and organise itself, someone does that. and maybe a few more people pitch in to help. and maybe will realises, and maybe he smiles gratefully at nico when, for the first time in years, he has two entire days off, back to back, in the summer, for the first time in years. and maybe nico thinks he is going to collapse into dust because gods will has a nice smile. not that he cares or notices or anything.

do they need to keep having competitive chores forever?

no.

but does it make both of them kind of shyly pleased and happy to remember how they started? to remember how much their friendship means to them, first and foremost, and not just their relationship?

yes.

(also, by the gods, nico is going to beat will at laundry one day. he is. as soon as he learns to fold without creasing the whole stupid shirt it's over.)

how do you think their aesthetic would change as they get older?

not much tbh.

will is pretty happy in his cargo shorts, which, mood. and nico is very committed to his Prince of Darkness look.

they are gonna have to get used to like...regular weather when they leave camp tho. i think will might begrudgingly have to get used to pants. he hates jeans with a fiery passion and any kind of slacks, but he will accept track pants.

he is also into shirts with horrible horrible puns on them. especially medical puns. he and nico frequently fight over who gets to buy shirts with bone puns on them, because they both find it funny. their closet (lol) is quickly morphing into one monster.

will complains about wearing shoes every single time he has to wear something that isn't flip-flops (again, understandable). he likes buying off-brand white converse and customizing them, though, so those are acceptable.

he refuses to wear boots under literally any circumstances. there could be three feet of snow on the ground and dumbass will be wearing chucks.

while their t-shirt situation is pretty similar, nico literally doesn't wear pants that aren't jeans. sometimes he sleeps in jeans. (not to make will's eye twitch, noooo, of course not, sometimes he just Reasonably Forgets or is Reasonably Too Lazy to get changed)

nico does also, on occasion, wear button ups, sleeves folded to just above the elbow.

will likes these very much.

especially the green one.

the green one is Very Very nice.

as for hair, nico grows his out to shoulder length so he can tie it back. he doesnt keep it much longer than that, because too long and he looks like bianca -- he always looks like her, and he never forgets that, but its important to him to remember her while still being able to think of himself as a separate person. he cuts it when it goes past his shoulders.

wills hair is literally untamable. it grows where it pleases. he hasnt had a haircut since he was six years old and somehow his hair doesnt grow down to his waist. he has no idea how long it actually is. they tried to measure it once but it changed every two minutes. the literal only time it resembles anything close to maintained is when he wears it in two french braid pigtails :) nico likes to buy him elastics with little charms on them. he wears them to suit his mood, he has a whole collection.

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weaselle · 6 days

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@ffoxer howdy! happy to oblige :)

i used to have a dresser and a bunch of hangers in my closet and like, closet organizer thingamabobs, but instead of using any of that stuff my clothes were always in several piles around my room.

And i felt shitty about it all the time but couldn't seem to make myself the kind of person who kept their clothes folded and organized. My room was constantly cluttered with clothes like drifts of snow scattered and piled here and there. Like, i felt really REALLY shitty about that. Deep shame

any ADHDers and spoonies out there relate?

SO one day, i said to myself, what if i'm okay the way i am? What if i just need to refine how i already do things a little bit instead of insisting on reinventing my entire identity?

Did i really care about being the kind of person who's socks were rolled just so, and whose shirts were all folded perfectly and arranged by color or whatever?

What i did care about was not living in a cluttered, messy, unorganized, embarrassing space.

And it turns out my piles WERE an organization system. What's more, my piles were a system that had been shaped by the way i actually use my clothes, it was a system that made sense for how i live my life. And i bet it's the same for most of you who relate to what i've been saying so far.

There were the clothes that were dirty, the clothes that had been worn but could be worn again, and the clean clothes (often dumped from the washer to the bed with the intent of folding and putting away, then slept next to when that didn't happen, and finally transferred to the floor next to my bed or piled in my closet once i gave up)

These three piles (dirty, clean, wear again) made up my "i wear this stuff all the time" wardrobe, and then everything else was still in the dresser i never actually used, with a few remaining almost-never-worns hanging in the closet.

This made my dresser, essentially, just a bin of clothes i could label "rarely wear"

And the thing i hated about my piles was that they looked messy, and took up too much space, and cluttered my room, and anyone who came into my room instantly assumed i was a disaster of a human because that's what it looked like. And, honestly, that's what it felt like too.

But i could change all of that and still have piles if i just... put my piles in bins! Then they would clearly be on purpose. And contained. And on purpose contained piles aren't a mess! They're a tidy organizational system.

So i got rid of my dresser and most of my hangers and i bought four of those plastic bins with the lids that you can get anywhere from hardware stores to target. Now, if you want to inhabit a fancier lifestyle, you can get nicer bins, they make all kinds, from canvas to wicker to polished wood or whatever suits your style and budget, I'm currently using the plastic ones, but when i move i'm planning on getting something more like this

the point is, these bins contain my piles without me having to change the piles at all.

now instead of having to sort all that stuff into different drawers i just have 4 simple bins

1: clean clothes

2: dirty clothes

3: stuff i might wear a second (or third) time

4: clothes i almost never wear

remember how those first three piles make up my "wear all the time" stuff? Well, each of the first two bins are big enough to contain all those clothes (which for me is about two loads of laundry).

I have a smaller bin for clothes i've worn but could wear again. And the last one, almost-never-wear, is actually the biggest one. And naturally a couple almost-never-wear things still get hung in the closet.

So when my "wear all the time" bin is empty, that means the dirty bin is about full, and i just add the might-wear-again stuff to it and carry that bin to the washer. When it comes out of the dryer, i still follow my natural instincts to dump them in a pile and forget about them, it's just now i dump that pile into the clean bin, where they belong.

And when i'm digging for something in the bin and can't find it, just like when i would dig in my closet, i can just dump it all out on my bed to find things like i used to, but then it goes back in the bin with a sweep of the arm.

The clothes naturally sort themselves out this way, too. Say every time you go to do your laundry because you "have nothing to wear" there are the same few items left in the bottom of your clean bin. Well those are clearly part of your almost-never-wears and you can dump them in that bin before you wash your laundry. When the weather gets cold, i put most of my shorts and tank-tops in the almost-never-wear bin. I make room for them by taking out my everyday winter wear to go in the clean bin.

I can put the bins where it makes the most sense for how i use my room naturally. For instance, my sweatshirts and jeans i might wear again always used to wind up draped over the back of my desk chair, so now i put my could-wear-again bin right by my desk. If I want my room to be extra tidy, i just stack all the bins in the closet where the dresser used to be, which takes like twenty seconds.

and the BEST part is, because my bins are just the piles i was naturally already creating, my clothes stay in their bins, which is inarguably a system of organization, and my room is actually clean and orderly, no messy clothes piles in sight!

i did a similar thing with my paper piles and now there's very little clutter and i don't feel like a failure of a person about my room the way i used to!

I have accomplished Clean Organized Room without having to change who i am or how i live! 10/10 highly recommend

#my life #spoons #adhd #laundry

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1d1195 · 6 months

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Love and Dryer Sheets III

Sorry for the wait. Hope you like it :)

Read the rest here: Love and Dryer Sheets

Just under 6k words

Warnings: emotional cheating, physical cheating, toxic relationships, arguing, etc.

Of course, she wanted to know his deepest thoughts. His desires. She wanted to know what his lips felt like on hers. How he took his coffee and whether he liked to sleep with the window open or closed. But that wasn’t her job to know. They had these moments in the laundry room and that was enough.

For now.

True to form, Harry continued to do the most inane loads of laundry. At one point he had just a towel, a T-shirt, and a sock. Hiding his odd loads of items from her—so he wasn’t so obviously following her to the laundry room so often—was the hard part. Fortunately, she never seemed to notice. Or if she did, she didn’t say anything.

Maybe she wants to see you, too. Harry’s heart had developed its own independent voice. He could feel it and hear it when he was around her. It was much kinder than his conscience and was all for Harry falling in love with the woman in the laundry room. He was burning through his jug of detergent. Ava paid no attention to it as much as Miss Sunshine paid no mind to his weird array of wash. Harry was lucky because Ava still brought her laundry to her mum’s house when she visited on a fairly weekly bais, so she didn’t have to sit with her laundry in the communal room. So, she didn’t have a clue about Harry’s laundry partner.

It was also how Harry had kept Ava’s presence a secret from his personal, human-form of sunshine.

You’re an idiot.

Harry ignored his conscience completely. As if it hadn’t whispered a thing to him.

Over the course of the next few months, Harry watched her read no less than six books and they chatted about most of everything and anything. Harry hadn’t felt so at ease around someone in ages. It made him so...confused. It felt like all the tension in his body released at once when he was around her. He doesn’t remember the last time he wasn’t tense for such substantial time periods.

Maybe if she hadn’t offered to share her laundry detergent, he would have continued to feel tense. If she wasn’t so nice, he might not have even noticed her sitting on top of the washer. He wouldn’t think about how soft her hair looked and how he wanted to slide his fingers through it. There wouldn’t be a thought about her giggle and how every time he saw The Wizard of Oz on the cable line up, he wanted to head down to her apartment to let her know—or ask to watch it with her.

“Have y’ever seen Wicked?” He asked her during one of their reading and waiting sessions. She placed a finger on her page making sure not to lose her spot.

She shook her head with a knowing smirk. “It’s on my list, but I can’t justify the cost right now.”

“They don’t pay y’a billion for being an angel at the hospital?” He asked with a smirk.

It felt like Harry was winning a competition he didn’t even know he entered every time she laughed at his jokes. “No, not really,” she shook her head. Their books were nearly forgotten so quickly. They were mirroring one another sitting on top of their washers. Her heels lightly bumped into the front of the machine, and they were just smiling at each other like they had been friends for their whole lives. They didn’t have to talk. He simply enjoyed her happy, sunshiney company.

Jesus Christ. His conscience was still trying even though he stopped listening to it. It was futile. There wasn’t anything he could do to stop how he felt. Even if it was wrong. Harry would simply push the feelings back as much as he could. However, his heart—with it’s independent voice—would only let him push his emotions down so much.

Harry found himself heading to the laundry room before she got there some days. It took some time to map out her schedule, but he seemed to find a pattern of every three to four days she would be lugging some of her stuff down to the basement. Fortunately, his conscience had gotten through to him to say he shouldn’t be stalking the laundry room. It should be a little more of a chance of finding her there and so he began doing at least one load a week without her.

“Hey munchkin,” her light voice nearly sent a shiver down his spine as she entered. It took Harry all the willpower in the world to not spin around at the sound immediately. Instead, he smirked at the little nickname. It was fitting of course, that she would choose it. It was ironic, as Harry was tall and far from a munchkin. But it was as adorable as she was, and Harry would respond to it for the rest of his life—especially if it came from her lips.

Easy. His brain continued to warn him, despite Harry having not acknowledged the voice of reason in months. But even Harry recognized it was dangerous to let her get so attached. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her because of his own idiocy.

“What d’you mean y’don’t like fried cauliflower?!” He ran his hands over his face like this was the worst grievance she could ever muster. Maybe it was. Harry was certain someone was lovely as she was couldn’t truly make someone annoyed. He couldn’t imagine fighting with her the way he fought with Ava.

Stop. His brain tried to remind him that thoughts like that weren’t okay. He shouldn’t be thinking about Ava and Miss Sunshine in the same wavelength. It was bad, number one. But it was also a slippery slope to being an absolute disaster of messing up a name and he needed this calm for a little while longer. The catastrophe of emotions Harry had raging in his heart and mind was overwhelming. He was going to mess up; he could feel it. If he didn’t miss this calm, this warmth, the sunshine so very much he would have worried more about the impending storm.

“If I’m being honest, I had the taste buds of a picky ten-year-old for the longest time; so I haven’t tried fried cauliflower in a long time. So, I’m open to giving it another chance.”

Harry’s smile made her feel like she could fly if he asked her to. His dimples made her stomach flutter with a thousand butterflies. She wished he would ask her to dinner. She wanted to try fried cauliflower again. If he did ask, she would gladly justify the cost of Wicked tickets. Sitting with him in the laundry room for the last couple of months made her so happy. It brightened her whole week, and she was glad he had as much laundry as he did so she could see him so often. She should have just asked him out. It was a brave thing to do and there was nothing really stopping her from doing so.

Except the idea that if he said no, she would have to find a new place to do laundry because she would never want to see him again. Maybe he was just friendly and liked having the company during such a boring chore.

When he smiled, she could swear he seemed happier than he had when he entered the laundry room. Regardless of if he already was happy. Maybe it was just wishful thinking; maybe it was her projecting how she felt the moment Harry’s foot crossed the threshold of the room. It was nice chatting with Harry. Most of the conversations were light—like fried cauliflower and which Spider-man was best (she was extremely partial to Andrew Garfield, but Harry was a firm believer Tobey Maguire did it best).

But over the course of their friendship, she could recognize when he was having a bad day. “Something wrong, munchkin?” She asked when he stared off to the wall and not his book. The only sound in the room was their washers humming quietly below them. He didn’t answer right away, and she waited patiently. Something she took home from work. Sometimes people needed a moment to process what they were feeling because they couldn’t form what they were feeling just yet.

“Sometimes I think m’not going t’be a good dad,” he mumbled.

She felt her heart and stomach flip in equal parts. The idea of Harry as a dad—even though she hadn’t known him that long, and certainly shouldn’t have been thinking about him in that context—had her ovaries aching for something that wasn’t hers to ache for.

“I think that’s a rational fear for anyone,” she said gently. He shrugged, still didn’t look at her. He crossed his ankles, his heels bumping into the washer. “Are you going to be a dad soon?” She asked with a smirk. It was a curious question, but a genuine one. His relationships were none of her business. They hadn’t done anything. They weren’t doing anything wrong. She called Niall nicknames all the time.

It was fine. For now.

For now.

But when he looked at her finally, her heart felt a crack in it that made her want to take back her question. His expression was a bit cutting and she felt a little taken aback by such a cold look on his normally warm face. She felt embarrassed she had asked it; making her face warm at his irritated look. “No,” he murmured. He was reading about a couple staying in a relationship that the main character didn’t love as much as he used to. It got him thinking about the idea of staying with Ava. What that would do to their already tense relationship. How it would affect his relationship with children if he didn’t change something...soon. Instead of voicing all those worries, he went with the one that really did weigh on his mind frequently. Another problem he didn’t have a solution to. “But...m’dad wasn’t ‘round a lot growing up. S’not like...’ve got a good role model t’think ‘bout y’know?”

She let the words fall over them for a few moments. In case Harry wanted to add to his statement or revise something. If he wanted to take it back... It was a personal notion. Talking about something so deep and serious was like a new step in their relationship—whatever relationship it was that they had, didn’t matter—and would make it deeper and stronger itself. “Well,” she cleared her throat quietly. “I think you just worrying about that will make you a good dad,” she said softly.

His face softened back to its natural, Harry-looking face that made her feel warm and fuzzy again. “Thanks, Sunshine,” he said softly.

She felt like she had to share something equally heavy. Just so Harry wouldn’t feel out of place, and sound so sad dealing with his own emotions. “I feel like my mom and dad have made it hard for me to believe in love that lasts forever,” she looked at her hands gripping the sides of her book. It was such a hard thing to admit. She hadn’t really told anyone that besides Niall.

Harry tilted his head curiously at her. That was quite the thing to disclose to Harry. But he found his heart aching for her. It worried him because she was so lovely, and she deserved the kindest, deepest love. He could tell just from sitting in the room with her over the last few months that she deserved that. “You’re not your parents, love,” he reminded her. “Think if y’don’t want a love like theirs, you’ll find the one y’do want,” he murmured. “S’not like y’need a heart from a wizard or anything,” he joked.

She smiled and nodded. It seemed like it was too good to be true that Harry would quote her favorite book to her. Especially when she was vulnerable and voicing something that hurt her—especially after a recent breakup. But Harry was real. He was sitting there; telling her his deepest thoughts or making her laugh with a lame joke or sharing a recipe about his favorite kind of brussels sprouts.

“Thanks, Harry,” she whispered softly feeling her heart rate slow to nearly nothing.

“You’re welcome, Sunshine.”

They went back to their books, stealing glances at one another until her washer finished its cycle. “Do you...fold your page down in your book?” He asked. He thought he had imagined it the first time. But this was...

“Yes,” she rolled her eyes throwing her stuff into the basket to transfer to the dryer.

“Kitten... s’unnatural.”

She snorted, smiling so brightly Harry swore it cured him of the sadness he was feeling before. “I squeeze the toothpaste from the middle too,” she giggled.

He shook his head melodramatically and smirked. “Somehow, I think we’ll get along anyway," he murmured and it made her toes nearly curl with want for him and his mouth all over her body. "Even if y'a serial killer."

Niall was laying on her sofa while she cooked in the kitchen. It was his favorite of her dishes: chicken parmesan. Her specialty. Plus, she made garlic bread from scratch that had Niall salivating with the scent wafting through her apartment.

“Have y’seen Harry around?” He asked as he flipped through different titles looking for a movie to watch. He thought he might settle on The Wizard of Oz because it had been a while since they had watched it together.

She was sprinkling shredded cheese across the dish and nodded even though Niall couldn’t see. Her heart felt fluttery, and her stomach did its flip that it always did when she thought about or saw Harry. “Yeah...just...in the laundry room.”

“Kinky.”

“Shut up, Niall.”

“I’ve never had washing machine sex myself, but I imagine all the vibration would work wonders for you,” he continued anyway.

“Niall,” she groaned feeling flushed and awkward that even she had those thoughts about Harry. “I’m gonna spit in your food.”

He rotated from his supine position and turned to lean over the back of the sofa. It gave him a better look at his best friend making dinner in the kitchen. “You’re awfully sensitive about him, darling,” he smirked.

She rolled her eyes. “He’s cute, funny, nice, smart...he checks all the boxes,” she murmured quietly.

Niall knew what she was getting at though. He could see it in her face and hear it in her voice. “But...?”

“I don’t know...doesn’t he seem too good to be true?”

Niall looked at her with a sympathetic smile. “Think you might be harboring some emotions from your last relationship, princess,” Niall’s voice was gentle. It wasn’t that she was embarrassed in front of Niall. But she could feel the anxiety that was clearly going to riddle every relationship she had going forward. That worried her and made her feel...bad. So maybe she should just listen to Niall. Maybe she was overthinking it—of course she was overthinking it! Or even if Harry was too good to be true...wasn’t there something nice about him just...being nice to her? After all that bad stuff and hard stuff that she went through? It wasn’t like she had to marry him or anything. It was just nice to talk to someone who seemed to enjoy her company and didn’t make her feel like she had to walk around on eggshells.

“I told Harry about my mom and dad,” she responded instead of confirming or denying his statement.

Niall raised his eyebrows at her in surprise. That was a feat to say the least. “Really?”

“Well...he said something about how he thought he would be a bad dad... I thought—well... I wanted to share something similar, you know?”

Niall adored her and her kind, empathetic brain. “Yeah. I know,” he smiled encouragingly. “What did he say?”

She sighed. After she finished with the cheese, she slid the dish into the oven and sauntered over to the sofa. She fell beside Niall and laid her head on his leg. He fiddled with the strands of her hair comfortingly. “I mean...I didn’t give him a lot of information...but he was really understanding all the same. Quoted something about the Tin Man.”

Niall smirked. “He sounds like your soulmate, darling,” there was an obvious tone in Niall’s voice. Like she didn’t already know that.

“I really like him, Niall,” she admitted quietly. “Like really like him. I can’t stop thinking about him,” she whispered.

Niall wanted her to be happy. Happy as she possibly could be. “I bet he likes you too.”

She was still so unsure. It had been months. He should have asked her out by now. It wasn’t like she wasn’t obvious. She was calling one of the tallest men she was friends with munchkin for Christ’s sake. She thought they were friends, but she didn’t even have his phone number. They never spoke outside the laundry room.

But it was undeniable that there was something there. She felt it in her heart, her mind, and all the butterflies fluttering in her stomach each time he entered the same room as her. “I hope so,” she looked sadly toward the TV excited to see the intro credits of her favorite movie. “He’d be a really good scarecrow to my Dorothy.”

“Ava. I cannot keep doing this,” he pressed his hands into his eyes.

She glared at him. “I’m not the problem.”

Harry hated this. He didn’t want a my-fault-your-fault relationship. If there were going to be issues, he wanted to fix them. Relationships weren’t perfect. Never. Not even the best ones out there. His was far from perfect. But maybe it had a chance at one point in time. It didn’t seem like it anymore.

Now, Ava just made him mad. Harry felt alone even when she was in the room. More alone than when she wasn’t in the room.

Today, it was that she couldn’t find her keys and Harry said something like he hadn’t seen them. Did you check the car? Because sometimes Ava would think she dropped them in her bag, but they’d slide right back to the floor, and she wouldn’t notice. This comment resulted in her eye roll, her irritation with Harry’s obvious question. Of course, I checked the car, I’m not an idiot.

The insinuation that Harry would insult her made him angry. He liked to believe he was kind; even when it was hard. Even when Ava made him so mad, he was shaking.

They began searching for her keychain, room by room fighting about something new in every room. Harry looked under the sofa, pulling a pair of his socks covered in dust bunnies sparked the first peripheral argument. Can you not leave your socks lying around?

In the fridge, in case she put it in there when grabbing a bottle of water. The original fight now spiraled into who left the dishes in the sink?

The bathroom: why was the washcloth on the floor?

The sitting room under the coffee table: When you leave the room, could you turn the TV off? Why is your phone volume maxed to the top?

“What is the point of all this Ava, all we do is argue about everything!?” Harry snapped as he slammed the bathroom door shut for two seconds of peace while he looked in her makeup drawer; maybe she was touching up her makeup and dropped them in there.

“We don’t just argue,” she sighed bitterly through the closed door. “Be serious Harry!”

“You’re going t’argue ‘bout how much we argue? Cute. Real fucking cute, love.”

“Jesus, Harry. Quit being so defensive!”

“Defensive?!” He hissed. “M’trying t’help you find your keys and y’act like I killed a dog in every room!”

He opened the door and found her leaning against the opposite wall, her bag over her shoulder waiting for this search to be over so she could go wherever she was headed. “Where are y’even going?” He asked as he went to their bedroom and looked under the bed.

“Out for a coworker’s birthday dinner.”

“Alone?”

“What y’don’t trust me?” The accusation was thick in her voice.

“Ava, for the love of God,” he practically growled. “Y’don’t invite me anywhere anymore, I was jus’ asking if it was a significant other thing—I would go with you. Christ.”

“We don’t need people to see us argue over appetizers,” she muttered. “But no, it’s not.”

Harry ignored her comment about arguing about appetizers. “Why don’t y’take my car and I’ll look for your keys,” he suggested quietly.

She shook her head. “I don’t like driving your car. The seat settings are weird and it’s hard for me to park it.”

“D’you want me t’drop you off and pick you up?” He asked.

She sighed dramatically. “I’ll just Uber.”

Harry was going to lose his mind. “Are y’serious?” He wondered following her retreating figure to the main room again. “You don’t even want your coworkers to see me? What, do y’think we’ll fight in the parking lot?”

“I never know with you Harry,” she shrugged with a dramatic, exhausted sigh. It was the same way Harry felt. She went to the closet to grab her coat and Harry heard the distinct jingle of her keys in the pocket as she pulled the jacket off the hanger.

Harry stared at her blankly. Emotionless. Not a sorry or a thank you for looking fell from her mouth. She didn’t even look apologetic as she slid her coat on wordlessly. “I forgot I wore this when I was out last,” she mumbled as she exited the apartment.

Normally after a fight—or a series of fights like that—the moment Harry had a second to himself he felt almost instantly better. But today all he felt was more anger. All of it. Down to the very smallest atoms of his bones. It hurt him as if she had reached in and yanked his heart out. He didn’t know why. He didn’t understand why this fight about keys made him so angry that he couldn’t shake the feeling. Not even a little.

He paced for a few minutes trying to calm his breathing. Trying to get the anger out of his chest, his head, every blood cell that was boiling with frustration.

It wasn’t just keys, washcloths, and dishes. It was everything. They were always arguing. It could have been a world record. They had to have the fastest time for arguing over nothing. But even though the fights were so trivial they built and built until it wasn’t just stupid little things.

They didn’t work. At least not anymore. They were broken. Maybe forever. Harry would have to start over. He would have to move out. Gemma would say I told you so. Mum would be understanding but would tell him she never liked Ava and he would have to try and justify why he stayed so long and it wasn’t what he wanted. He didn't want to justify anything. It wasn't anyone's business...

But he knew it was true. Deep down, he knew. Then, his mind and heart would be broken. Everything was wrong. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Before his conscience or his heart could say anything internally, he was hurrying down the stairs; his body moving almost of its own accord. It caused the slightest relief in his veins. He could feel the simmering boil slow just a fraction.

It was bad. A bad idea. A bad move. It was just bad.

But Harry was tired of being angry.

The only time he wasn’t angry was when he was enjoying the warmth of sunshine.

“Hey munchkin,” she smirked as he entered the basement. She was so used to his tall frame taking up the entryway she didn't even have to fully look to see that it was him coming down the steps. She did a double take looking at the lack of a basket. He was frazzled. Her smirk turned to a frown in an instant. “Harry? Are you... okay...? ... Munchkin?” She asked, her voice trailing off. She dropped the towel she was folding into the basket, and she reached out like she wanted to take him in her arms and comfort him. She hadn’t touched him in the months that she had known him but she was willing to do it now. God, she would have done it earlier and for less. The anxiety that was laced in his features made her nervous. Her heart felt a heaviness seeing how upset he felt so evidently on his beautiful face.

The second his name left her lips, his mouth was on hers.

Harry felt whole. The anger was gone. Truly. It was like she transferred all that warmth, kindness, and peace right through her lips and into Harry’s mouth. It was like holding actual sunshine. He forgot everything. He didn’t think of work, his book, laundry. He didn’t think of Ava, Gemma, anyone or anything.

He was kissing her, that was the only thing he could remember and focus on and not one thing else.

They were lucky no one else was in the laundry room to witness their make out session. Harry’s lips felt like pillowy little clouds and his chapstick had a coconutty taste to it that offset the minty flavor of his gum. It made her dizzy to finally taste him. Her hands bunched fistfuls of his T-shirt against his sides.

His fingers slid from being curled into her hair on either side of her face down her neck leaving a wake of shivers and goosebumps in their path. He touched the outside of her hips and tried to guide her and lift her to sit atop the washing machine as she always did. But this time was going to be for an entirely different purpose.

She pulled from his lips reluctantly, causing a gasp of air to escape Harry’s mouth.

“Not here,” she whispered into his neck, her voice hardly carrying through the air.

She wasn’t wrong. Fucking in the laundry room was definitely not classy. She deserved classy and time. She needed everything that was good.

Also, it’s very wrong. His conscience reminded him. But Harry could hardly hear the irritating little voice.

“Where?” He hummed, his lips sliding down the side of her neck. If she wasn’t careful, she was going to lose the last of her coherent thought and she would end up doing something stupid with Harry in the public laundry room.

She pulled from his embrace, grabbing his hand and tugged him up the steps to the lobby. Harry nearly tripped on the last step causing her to giggle. They rode the elevator to the third floor, their hands intertwined with one another, and Harry couldn’t stop himself from thinking about how perfect it felt. Their smiles and giggles escaped them like two teenagers hiding from their parents while they made out in their bedroom. The kissing ensued the second they were alone on the elevator this time she pressed herself against the length of Harry and he wrapped his arms around her back pulling her tight to him as they ascended the passing floors.

Arriving on the third floor, she pushed her door out of the way and almost immediately Harry had her backed against it, his body trapping her against the door. She felt so warm but Harry’s lips on hers made it all worth it. Her heart rate was the speed of a hummingbird. His body was so strong and warm. She moaned into his lips making him squeeze her toward him. He answered with a groan of his own. He pulled back momentarily to let them breathe but as he did his eye caught the photo of her, Niall, and who he assumed was her family. It was in a frame that said There is no place like home.

While she was kissing his neck, making his body hard and soft all at the same time, he smirked releasing a chuckle. “You’re going to laugh while I’m kissing you?" She mumbled into his skin in annoyance.

He laughed a little harder. “Oh, sorry, Sunshine,” he said and pressed a kiss to her forehead while she continued pecking along his collarbone that peeked out from his T-shirt. “Caught the photo there,” he murmured. She turned around in the circle of his arms. Harry wrapped them loosely around her waist from behind so she could look at what caused the distraction. As she looked over the photo herself, he dropped a kiss to the top of her head. The smile on her face that Harry could see sort of reflected in the glass of the picture frame, looked like one of adoration and love. Harry hoped she would look at him like that one day. “You’re so adorable,” he mumbled into her hair. “Why d’you like The Wizard of Oz so much?” He asked.

She pulled his arm from around her and tugged him toward her living area where the bookshelf displayed all the editions she had of her favorite book. Carefully, she tugged one version of it off the shelf and flipped it open to page 189, because of course she knew the exact quote she was looking for. All you need is confidence in yourself. There is no living thing that is not afraid when it faces danger. The true courage is in facing danger when you are afraid, and that kind of courage you have in plenty.

It was highlighted in yellow. Harry read it three times. Each time he read it, it felt like he understood her a little more. Each of the three sentences seemed to take prominence on each read through and the last phrase especially, made him think she was some sort of superhero.

While he read, he held the book so carefully in his hands. His finger brushing softly on the page as he pointed to the words. She watched his eyes scan the page almost as gently as he touched the paper. She could see he was digesting the words and it felt so vulnerable. This was her favorite book. Her favorite quote. The way he caressed the book was delicate; the moment was so fragile and made her feel so exposed.

“I don’t know what kind of danger you’ve faced, kitten. But I think you’re the most courageous woman I know.”

Her heart felt so full but weak at the same time. It was like Harry made her feel like she could do anything but that she didn’t have to because he would hold her the way he held her favorite book. It took every ounce of restraint in her to not shed a tear.

“Y’collect them?” He asked.

Clearing her throat, she was grateful for the distraction. She nodded quickly. “Yeah…I think it was a joke at first. Mom and my sister both got me a copy for my birthday. But then every time someone who knew me came across it, I got a new one. Then it was like...everyone we knew was looking. But we were all actually finding copies that were cool and stuff.”

Harry thought he would implode from how cute she was. He hoped to find an edition she didn't have. But even if he didn't, he knew she would appreciate the gesture all the same. He was glad there were people in her life who knew she liked the book. Glad that they appreciated her love for something so...pure.

So as not to say something crazy like he adored her and would buy any copy he came across for her as long as they lived, Harry looked at the remainder of her bookshelf. “Quite the collection of other books y’got, Sunshine,” he smiled bending down to examine the titles on the bottom shelf.

“I have another shelf in my room,” she said.

“Oh?” So, she showed him. There was a run of the mill copy of it on this shelf—she would put one in every room she told him. “It’s comforting, you know?” Harry didn’t really know. He didn’t feel an attachment to a book like that, but he was already obsessed with how comforted he felt around her. From the very moment he met her when she made his anger lessen, made him feel a little better than before he knew her. A little picture frame held a quote on her wall that read We’re not in Kansas anymore.

Then they started chatting about the CDs she had on another shelf. Which got them talking about music. Then she showed him the bathroom and how she found this nifty dispenser for toothpaste and mouth wash. "So I don't have to squeeze it in the middle," she joked. In her kitchen, they looked at photos on her fridge and sifted through recipes in a cookbook that she had written down. “I’m a little old fashioned sometimes. But I think cookbooks are cute,” she shrugged. Harry thought it was adorable, of course. Harry felt like he hadn’t laughed so hard in his whole life being in apartment 304. It felt like...

Well, it felt like there was no place like home.

Eventually a timer on her phone went off pulling them both back to the real world--her failsafe in case there was something she forgot in her apartment while she sat in the laundry room. Harry frowned as she shut off the alert and she turned back to him. “Gotta check on my clothes,” she whispered.

At the same time Harry’s phone vibrated: a message from Ava.

In the last forty-five minutes he completely forgot about Ava’s existence. “Ah,” he shook his head. The anger started to bubble in the pit of his stomach. “S’okay,” or maybe that was guilt.

It should be guilt. His conscience reminded him. That was bad. Even the regular part of Harry’s mind knew how terrible it was that he forgot about Ava.

He kissed another woman.

She’s probably my soulmate. He told his conscience. As if that would fix the problem.

You need to do the right thing. It answered simply. That he could agree with his conscience.

She fluffed her hair, fixed her shirt, and rolled those soft, warm, sweet lips he was already obsessed with into her mouth awkwardly. She gestured toward the door and Harry exited first. They hit buttons for the elevator, going in opposite directions. “I’ll...see you later?” She asked as the elevator alerted the pair of them the elevator was on the rise.

Harry nodded. “Yes,” that he was certain.

“Um...” she bit the inside of her lip and peered up at him nervously. It was sad and adorable all at once. She was perfect, stunning, lovely. Her mind was just as beautiful as she was. Harry thought her heart was unbearably kind and all he wanted to do was worship her and her sweet self.

Harry was an asshole.

“That was...nice,” she whispered softly. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he nodded in agreement with an awkward smile. His brain was starting to take back over again. “It was really nice,” he assured her making the relief on her face palpable. For that, he wanted the elevator to crush him.

The lift pinged with it’s arrival to descend back to the lobby. “See you around, munchkin,” she said quietly and kissed his cheek before she stepped onto the elevator. He felt sick to his stomach while he watched the doors close on her sweet, smiling face.

Finally. His conscience sighed with relief.

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