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lukesaprince · 2 days

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Rich Part 21

Summary: Neighbour/Older!Harry. The truth is revealed and extenuating circumstances lead to y/n spilling the beans about her and Harry.

Warning: HELLA SMUT!! Daddy!kink, oral (f receiving), dirty talk (degradation and praise ofc), spanking, spitting kink, creampie, mentions of death (specifically a child) and grieving, poor mental health.

Word count: 17k+

Author's note: I recommend reading Part 20 before this one as it's a direct continuation! Part 22 already has 7k words written so I PROMISE you won't have to wait a month to read more of my babies. Enjoy 😚😚

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- Find my General Masterlist here -

“Please… Daddy.”

“Good girl.”

His mouth slotted with yours like the final puzzle piece. Smooth and effortless, melting into you while his hand moved from your neck to grab onto your hair. He was simultaneously protecting your head from the door and tugging right at the root of your pretty hair.

The sting had you whimpering into his mouth, hands through his hair and over his chest and just everywhere while you reached up on your tippy toes to kiss back harder. You quite liked feeling smaller than him and Harry loved being bigger than you. Taller than you. Pressing his full body weight into you until all you could feel was him.

“I don’t… I don’t have much time.” You murmured into his mouth, gasping as the kiss broke and he let his mouth skirt over your jaw. You always did have a sensitive neck. It was a sweet spot for you and Harry knew that. At this point he had memorised all your erogenous zones and the little things he did that turned you on and considered himself an expert in how to take advantage of it.

He was always learning new things about you. Every day he found new details about you and fell deeper in love because of it.

“You do.” His smirk curled against your jaw and focused one hand on your hair to tug your head back while the other squeezed over your waist.

“I really don’t. My parents will see my car and wonder where I am. They’d be offended I saw you before them.”

“I think they’d be a little more than offended if they knew what you were doing here. Wouldn’t they, darling?”

Your gasp got caught in your throat, muffled by a moan when he bared his teeth against your neck. His mouth cushioned lower, tracing over what felt like every single inch of your bare skin.

“Probably.” You just hummed in response, letting your eyes flutter closed while you relaxed into the feeling of his soft, wet tongue over your neck.

“What would they say if they knew you called me Daddy, hm? Bet your mother would faint, wouldn’t she? Her darling little y/n.” Harry pulled away so you could watch the way his lips wrapped around each syllable. He pressed his hand over your throat again, keeping you pinned there as he undid the bow of your sweatpants. “Come on, baby. Tell me what she’d say.”

You didn’t think he’d want a response to that when it sounded so rhetorical. More like a tease than something he wanted you to respond back to.

“I don’t know. I don’t even want to-” the words got stuck in your throat when you felt his nimble fingers slide along the waistband of your sweatpants. He smirked at your reaction, scanning every inch of your face while languidly stroking your lower belly. “-to think about it. It's mortifying.”

His eye contact was making you want to pass the fuck out and when his fingers found the band of your underwear you nearly did. You had missed this. The cat and mouse game. The teasing. Though it usually took a lot longer than the time you had.

“It’s not mortifying when you’re doing it, though. Is it, baby?” He cocked his head, maintaining eye contact as he started to trace over your underwear down towards your clit. You shook your head quickly, grabbing onto his forearms.

“Words.” He warned.

“No. No it isn’t.”

“Feels quite… good. Doesn’t it?” He pressed right over your clit, rubbing purposed circles. The friction of your underwear was driving you crazy. But you wanted more and you were a little conscious of the time.

“You know it does.”

“I know.” He smirked, leaning in to kiss your neck again. “I make you feel good. Don’t I?”

The questions were making your head spin. “Yes… yes.”

The friction suddenly disappeared from your clit, but just as you were about to make a noise of disdain, his hands were hoisting your legs up around his waist and he was carrying you through the house to his dining room. He set you down on the edge of the table, reaching in to kiss you deeply just long enough to have you gasping and tugging at his hair.

The kiss broke and his mouth trailed down your neck again. You made a pretty little whimpering sound that had Harry smirking against your skin while he worked on removing your pants properly.

“I love when you do that…” he groaned, nimble fingers sliding along the waistband of your sweats, tucking into them and your underwear at the same time before very easily pulling them down under your ass until they fell to your ankles. The cool air hit your clit instantly, sending a chill down your spine and the tension of your legs that only increased when Harry continued to talk dirty to you. “When you whimper all pretty for me… ‘s my favourite thing in the world. Never takes long either. Could just kiss you and you’d moan for me. Isn’t that right?”

His question hung heavy in the hair but all you could focus on was the sight of him dropping to his knees before you to help guide your feet out of the bottom half of your clothing.

“Uhuh.” You agreed haphazardly, sweeping your hand through his hair at the first touch of his lips against your knee. He kissed down your calf until that ankle was out of your pants then switched sides to do the other, this time kissing up from your ankle to your knee to the sensitive skin of your thigh.

“Why don’t I give you something proper to moan about, hm? Would you like that, pretty girl?” Harry let his lips brush against your skin while his hands ran up and down your legs, running his thumbs over your knees like he was about to pry your legs open and dive right in.

Every touch had you breathing heavier, already getting worked up just from a few little kisses. It didn’t help that you were already on edge from his earlier teasing and knowing that things would get a little rougher than usual only made you needier.

Sex always was a bit rougher when ‘daddy’ came into play. Harry took on the role in full force and took full control of the scene. He usually spanked you more, grabbed you more, fucked you harder. Fuck… you hoped he’d spit in your mouth too, maybe smack his ringed fingers over your clit. You could ask for it of course and he’d happily oblige (with a bit of teasing and degradation to accompany your request of course), but it was so much hotter when he just did it. When he owned you and treated you like a hole to use.

“Yes.” You nodded eagerly, tugging his hair a little harder. He smirked and nipped at your thigh, grabbing your calves to pull you forward until your legs widened to fit him between them. Grabbing your face suddenly, he squeezed your cheeks roughly until you whined in pain.

“Where are your manners, huh? I thought I taught you better than that.” He tutted, maintaining eye contact while he spit suddenly on the fingers on his other hand before reaching between your bodies to find your clit. Harry didn’t want to stop looking at your pretty eyes for a single second. The moment he found your clit he tapped against it roughly, making your back arch at the repeated sting of his fingers. His saliva only made it hurt more and yet you found yourself loving every second of it.

“Shit.” You cursed, clutching onto his shoulders. The sting had your toes curling, knees dug into either side of his hips in an attempt to curb the ache. “Shit.”

“If you’re a good girl, y/n, you’ll get treated nicely. Don’t you know what happens if you’re not, hm?” He smirked, pressing his palm to your clit while sliding two fingers down through your labia. You were soaked, already dripping for him to do something. Anything. He circled his fingers over your entrance, pressing just enough to make that delicious whimper echo around his kitchen before he dragged them back up to your clit. “Or has it been that long since I put your attitude in check?”

Jesus fucking Christ.

Harry repeated the same movements, torturously dragging up and down… up and down from your clit to your entrance without doing anything remotely close to satisfying.

“‘M sorry. I’m sorry Daddy. I got… fuck” you cursed when he nudged over your clit again. It was just a game now, a sadistic little game to see how wet he could get you without actually giving much pleasure. “Excited.”

“Excited? Or selfish?” He cocked his head, grinding his palm to your clit while squeezing your face a little harder. “Being needy doesn’t give you an excuse to be ill mannered.”

“You’re right. I’m-I’m sorry. I’ll do anything. I’ll be good. I promise.” The words came out as a hushed whimper of strung together desperation. Harry was loving every second of it.

“Yeah? You wanna be a good girl for me?”

“Yes. Please, Daddy.”

“Gonna let me do anything I want?”

“Anything. Anything.”

His cock stirred at the thought of being able to do anything to you. To have complete control over you. Of course, you truly had the power in the situation, but he loved that you chose to let him take the reigns.

“Open your mouth.”

Harry slid his hand down to your jaw to give you space to move your mouth and as soon as you did, your lips parted just wide enough for him to spit right on your tongue. The sight was obscene. Your tongue sticking out to catch his saliva, his mark, his ownership. Your eyes were all glazed and pretty and you looked happy to take whatever he gave you. You were happy.

He just couldn’t help himself, really. Couldn’t stop himself from getting a taste of your pretty mouth. It would’ve felt wrong not. You were his girl after all. His love. Kissing you was part of the job.

Harry was quick to dart out and clasp his lips with yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth so he could rub his saliva over your tongue with his own. It was feral. Sloppy in the best way possible. He slid his tongue against yours, spreading his spit and the new saliva from your kiss everywhere.

You loved when he kissed you sloppy. When it was way too inappropriate for outside eyes. Something just for you. While his tongue told you exactly how he felt about you, he grabbed onto your hips and pulled you forward until you slid off the table, landing on your unsteady feet.

“Take this off, yeah? Let me see how pretty you are.” He murmured, breaking the kiss just enough to speak while tugging upwards at the end of your t shirt.

You quickly obeyed and ripped your t shirt off, letting it land on the floor without care. You didn’t bother putting a bra on when you left Lucy’s, not when you were just going home and seeing Harry quickly - or at least you thought it would be quick - so you were left bare. Now you were grateful that you decided to do that, especially from the dark-eyed reaction you gained from your bare breasts being exposed to your lover.

“Fuck baby. Got the prettiest tits ever.” Harry cursed, palming over your exposed breasts while he connected your mouths again.

Your hands found home in his hair, reciprocating happily to his enthusiastic kissing. It was such a power imbalance being completely naked while he was still fully clothed. The anxious part of you hated it and felt so… small. Exposed. The bigger part of you, the one that got off on being submissive and degraded frothed over it. There was no feeling like his fully clothed body against your fully bare one, other than skin to skin contact of course.

That was your favourite.

“Driving me fucking crazy like this.” Harry murmured again, keeping one hand on your breast while the other trailed upwards to the little pearl necklace permanently fixtured on your neck. You only took it off to shower, otherwise it never left your body. You couldn’t bare to part from it because it was a constant reminder of Harry. Like he was always with you.

And you happened to love how possessive he became when his eyes landed on the little string of pearls. How they darkened ever so slightly. When you were in public it turned into a kiss or his hand squeezing your hand or waist, like it triggered some obsessive reaction. You weren’t sure if he caught onto the fact that the necklace somehow pavloved physical touch, but you did.

Sometimes you liked to draw attention to it on purpose to tease him, not that he knew he was being teased. When you were talking you might brush your hair away from your neck or fiddle with the pearls to draw his eyes there. It was fun. A game you were winning even if he didn’t know he was participating.

“And this…” He hooked his finger into the necklace, tugging it gently while simultaneously tugging at your bottom lip, releasing it with a pop. “You’ve got no idea how sexy you look with nothing on but this.”

“I never take it off…” You sighed.

“I know. I love you more for it.” He mused, nipping on your neck. “If that’s even possible.” Your head lulled back when he ran his hands down over your body again, landing on your hips where he quickly spun you around to face the table and pressed himself against you. “Love how soft you are too…” He complimented, pressing spongey kisses along your shoulder.

You braced yourself against the table, letting yourself be pushed down flat against it by a gentle hand on the middle of your back.

“How you feel in my hands… my mouth…”

His mouth replaced his hand, trailing down until he was crouched behind you. God the sight of you was driving him crazy.

Running his hands over your ass, he pressed a kiss to one of your cheeks, dragging his bottom lip against your skin as he released before kissing over to your other cheek. Then he spread you wide, eliciting a gasp when he spanked you and groaned at the way your skin rippled then spread you open again.

“My tongue…”

And then you felt it. His hot tongue met your clit, swiping through your labia right to your tight ring of muscles where he decided to focus his attention. Harry was aware you two didn’t have all the time in the world, but he just couldn’t compromise on his favourite thing. Tasting you.

Your flavour, your scent, how wet you got. Like silky honey dripping down his throat and coating his lips. He was obsessed with it. Which is why he let himself a few moments of flicking his tongue against your ass before he moved down to one of his favourite parts of you. That pretty little clit.

Your moans were like music to his ears. An array of whimpers and whines, pleaded whispers of his name and his honorific. There was nothing like hearing the moan of his name, even moreso when he was being your ‘Daddy’. You were much more pliant, more responsive. He wasn’t sure if it was your submission kicking in more than usual or because your kink was being stroked the entire time.

Either way, he was reaping the benefits.

You were so hot and sweet and were wiggling like a fucking worm in his grip. He had to hold onto your hips harder to keep you still, but that didn’t stop your clenching and trembling when he sucked particularly hard on your clit or fucked his tongue inside you.

So fucking responsive.

“God, you taste so fucking sweet, baby. My favourite meal in the world.” He praised, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking a little rougher than usual just so you’d cry out for him.

“Please. Please.” You begged, forehead pressed against the table.

“What?” Harry mused, sliding his tongue toward your entrance and pressing it there. You clenched on impact and he could feel it at the tip of his tongue. All he could think about now was getting inside you. God, he was so hard. So painfully hard.

“Need you. Please, Daddy. Need your cock so bad.” You begged clearly this time, needing to be filled more than anything.

“Yeah? Need it bad, do you?” Harry stood up, kissing your cheek on the way up before he was ridding himself of his clothing. He was already hot and worked up and he knew that the moment his cock touched you he’d be sweating all over. Besides… he wanted to feel you. He wanted to press his chest into your back and feel your thighs against his.

He craved the intimacy of skin to skin like nothing else.

“Yes. Fuck. Yes.” You sighed, nearly screaming in relief when you felt the tip of his cock bump against your clit.

“I’ll give it to you baby…” He soothed, dragging his tip through your folds to collect your wetness over his cock. “I’ve got you…” His tip pressed against your entrance and you swore you could’ve cried when he slowly pushed in. “Shit.”

“Fuck.”

He stretched you slowly, torturously, like he wanted you to feel every inch of his cock. Every vein and ridge and the way he got slowly wider at the base. It wasn’t something you’d feel when he was fucking you roughly, but God it was all you could feel now. The stretch, the ache, the way your knees buckled when his hand pressed into your lower back to keep you still.

And then the slow, tortuous teasing ended and without any warning he drew his hips back and slammed back into you in a way that had your lungs losing all their breath. His hands were firm on your hips, fingers dug tightly so there was this constant ache that seemed to reach its way straight to your soul.

And you fucking loved it. Every bruising thrust, every snapping sound, the way Harry moaned and cursed, telling you exactly how much he liked it. He never was shy from making sounds of pleasure and it was one of the things that made sex with him so hot.

“You’re so tight. Shit, baby. Always so fucking tight around me.”

“Oh God. Harry!”

“Wrong name, sweetheart.” He reprimanded with a heavy spank on your ass, the snapping sound echoing throughout the room. “Say the right one. Say it.”

“Daddy.” You moaned pathetically, earning another spank right on the other cheek. The sting was the most satisfying sort of burn, a pain that lingered and ached but only made everything so much better. It fuelled your pleasure, contributing to the orgasm you had been waiting for twice now.

It didn’t take long to reach it. Not when he had already teased you with his mouth and fingers and now was fucking you so damn good you could barely breathe. Harry didn’t stop once you rode through your orgasm, no, he took it as an opportunity to give you barely ten seconds of rest and flip you around so you were lying flat on the table. He was nestled back in you before you knew it, in a single fluid thrust that had you crying out from sheer sensitivity.

He didn’t seem to care, or he did but just liked to see the way the tears streamed down your face. And you were okay. He knew you were okay because he checked in with you in that ten seconds of rest, making sure you were green before he flipped you over to fuck you how he wanted.

And fuck. This was how he wanted you.

“You just take it so fucking well, don’t you sweetheart? Always squeeze around my cock so tight.” Harry uttered through gritted teeth, fingers achingly squeezed into your cheeks while his eyes remained glued to where you two were connected.

Harry always loved fucking you from behind. The heart shape of your ass, the way he could see all your pretty holes and how you clenched around him, the way he could get his cock inside you deeper than other positions… how he could grab your hips and fuck you hard, bruising your insides and out. He liked being able to spank your pretty ass and thumb at your tight ring of muscles and he especially liked spreading your cheeks and burying his face between them.

But nothing compared to watching your face. The way your eyes would roll back into your head, how they’d flutter and close when something felt especially good. The scrunch of your nose and furrow of your brow and the way your mouth would part in a whimper when something hurt a little too good. The way your jaw would clench and slack and how dazed your eyes got when he wrapped his hand around your throat.

He loved watching the effect he had on you. Your face showed him how good he was making you feel in a way your body didn’t and it became a little game to him on how to get you to make certain facial expressions.

Mostly though… he liked watching your eyes gloss over the harder he fucked you, the meaner he was. He loved to watch you slip into an ultimate state of submission and pleasure.

“Daddy…” You moaned, unable to come up with anything in reply to him. You were already too far gone.

“I know.” He sympathised. “Shit baby, you feel so fucking good. So good. Got the best pussy, you do.”

There was nothing like having a man moan for you. When they whimpered for you, praised you.

“Love your cock.” The words tumbled out without real thought, “feels so good. Always need it so bad.”

Shit. You didn’t talk dirty very often, not that Harry minded. He liked to watch your reactions when he uttered total filth. But Jesus… when you said anything remotely sexual like that, that you loved his cock? For a moment he feared he was going to prematurely cum before he made you finish for the second time.

“I love when you talk dirty to me, baby, but you’re gonna need to stop if you want me to keep fucking you.”

You let out a choked laugh at his words, loving how one small compliment had him stilling for a second to collect himself. You clenched on purpose, gasping with a smile when he pinched your cheeks a little harder.

“Spit in my mouth.”

Now you were just fucking with him. Through the haze of your pussy being completely destroyed by him, you still managed to tease him and be a fucking brat.

“God, you’re fucking filthy today.” He gritted, cocking his head while sliding his hand down your jaw to the top of your throat so he could tuck his thumb into your mouth. “Open up.”

Your lips parted instantly, earning a pleased ‘good girl’ in return that had you happy as anything. “Stick your tongue out.” Again, you followed his instruction instantly, whimpering when his fingers dug into the sides of your neck with purpose. “That’s it. Good girl.”

It all happened so fast. The praise. The hammering of his hips against yours. The woozy pleasure feeling clouding your brain like a drug. All of it. And then it happened. Harry collected the saliva in his mouth and spat it all over your tongue, watching with sick satisfaction as your saliva slid down to the back of your throat. He groaned loudly and leaned in to kiss you fiercely, picking up the pace against your hips in a way that had tears trailing down your face.

It was so good. So so fucking good. It felt like your whole body was on fire. Every square of your body was pressed against his and when he fucked you particularly hard, the dining table scraped across his gorgeous wooden flooring. Harry didn’t give two fucks about his scratched floors, if anything he liked the thought of always looking at a constant reminder that you were his.

“Can’t believe what a little slut you’re being tonight.” He grinned, palming over your breast and pinching your nipple until you cried out and arched against him. “You fucking love my spit, don’t you? That’s why you asked for it. Because you love being my filthy little slut.”

Filthy little slut. God you loved when he was a little mean to you. A lot mean sometimes too.

“Uhuh. Love it so much.” You nodded enthusiastically, well, as enthusiastically as you could after an orgasm and his cock so deep inside you, you swore you felt it in your throat.

“Yeah? Take some more than. Since you want it so fucking bad.” He spat into your mouth again, using two fingers to roughly spread it over your tongue. He pushed them back, laughing when you suddenly gagged around his fingertips. “Aw, poor baby can’t even handle my fingers, hm? How do you manage my cock then if you can’t even take two fingers down your throat?”

He grabbed your neck this time and pushed you back until you were lying down on the table before grabbing your ankles to hike them on your shoulder.

Yeah… a lot mean was fucking hot.

“Harry.” You protested, covering your face with both hands.

Your whole body was heating up from how mean he was being. Maybe even a little shy at how much you liked it. It shouldn’t have been a surprise anymore that you liked it, not when you two had so much practice with it. Yet you still found yourself getting nervous when he looked at you a certain way or said a certain thing. You rather liked it like that. You never wanted to lose the butterflies. The romance. The big pile of mush you turned into when he degraded you and used you.

“Don’t start being shy now, Angel. You know you like it.” He smirked, reaching forward to grab your hands from your face. He interlaced your fingers, drawing your hands down to rest on your belly so he could look at you. “Wanna look at you, baby. You’ve got the prettiest face. Look so gorgeous like this.”

Every word seemed to be egging you on, drawing you closer to the inevitable ecstasy that would flood through your core. The angle was so intense, so deep you knew that if he pressed on your belly, his cock would press through.

“Oh god. I’m… shit. I’m so close.” You moaned, squeezing his hands and digging your heels into his shoulders.

“Give it to me, baby. Tell me what you need.”

“My… my clit.”

Harry kept one hand intertwined with yours while the other moved down to your clit. He rubbed purposed circles over your bundle of nerves, delivering such perfect pressure it barely took a murmured ‘I love you’ for that wave of white hot pleasure to rush over you. His thrusts stilled at the feeling of you clenching around him and he was quick to widen your legs and fold over you so he could lazily slot your lips together.

With a curse and a pretty whimper into your mouth that had your head spinning, Harry thrust once, twice, three final times until you felt his hot cum fill you up. His body was so heavy over yours, your sticky bodies pressed and joined together. You wrapped your legs and arms around him, wanting to keep him as close as possible to you.

“God, that was so good.” He murmured, tucking his forehead into the crook of your neck.

“Agreed. I’ve missed that” you whispered, panting slightly as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“Me too. Fuck.” He propped himself up over you, pushing your hair back from your face. “Are you okay?”

You smiled and let out a small laugh, tipping your head up so you could kiss him. “I’m more than okay. Two orgasms equals a happy girl.”

“And what does three make you?” He grinned.

“An even happier girl, possibly a tired girl.” You smiled, reaching your arms above your head to arch your back in a stretch. He shook his head and stood back straight, scanning his eyes over the light sheen of sweat on your pretty skin.

“And you’re not tired now?” Harry raised his brow, looking down at your pussy to watch himself pull out. He did so slowly, careful not to hurt you and was completely mesmerised by the trail of cum that followed his cock.

“Fuck.” You whispered, feeling an ache when he fully pulled out of you. “Of course I’m tired. A little sore too. I think I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight.”

“Mh. Me too. Wish we could sleep together.” He replied, eyes glued to his cum slowly dripping out of you. “I don't think I’ll ever get over how hot it is to see you like this.”

“Mmh.” You agreed, propping yourself up on your elbows to look at his cock covered in your cream. “I always thought creampies were overrated before you. Now… I love it.” Your eyes flickered back to Harry, who was already looking right at you with this dark look that made you want to climb all over him again. “I like feeling it later… even if it’s a little gross to sit in cold cum.”

Harry scrunched his nose up at that, “You could’ve made that so much sexier, y/n. Now when you go home I’ll be thinking of stale cum.”

“I didn’t call it stale! I said ‘cold’.”

“Like that’s any better?” He laughed, leaning in to kiss you. “I’ll grab you some water and a towel, okay? Stay here.”

“Like I’d go anywhere, I’ll drip stale cum all over your floor.” You shot back as he was already walking into his kitchen. You loved his ass. It was just so cute half the time you had this temptation to just whack it but you knew he’d hate it and probably retaliate ten times worse.

There was something so sexy about him walking around stark naked without a care in the world. He had such confidence in his body and himself that he really didn’t care. You weren’t as confident as he was in that department but being with him had definitely made you more confident in your skin.

“It’s already on my table, y/n. The floor won’t make much difference.”

You clenched up immediately at that comment, trying to stop more of his cum from dripping out of you. “Yeah… we’ve got to sanitise this. We eat here.” You scrunched your nose and sat up to look at the spot between your legs, finding his cum already dripped onto the table.

“Baby I’d sanitise the entire house if it meant I got to fuck you anywhere and everywhere.” He smirked, coming back with a big glass of water and a damp tea towel. He had already cleaned himself up and was quick to crouch down before you to clean you up as well. You didn’t get very nervous about the cleanup anymore. Harry had wiped you clean and taken care of you dozens of times.

“Thank you.” You smiled, grabbing the glass from where he had put it on the table beside you. “Your bed’s next. When we have more time.”

“I still can’t believe we haven’t christened my bed yet. It feels wrong.” He murmured, watching you

shakily bring the glass to your lips while he grabbed your underwear from the pile of clothes on the floor and dragged them up your legs.

“I know. I’ve missed your bed. It’s a lot comfier than mine, more space too.” You had this little mischievous grin playing on your lips, one that Harry found incredibly sexy.

You were still breathing a little heavily and managed to finish half the glass by the time you lifted your hips and Harry adjusted your underwear back in place. You attempted to set the glass down on the table beside you but before you could, he stood up and stopped you with a finger pushing the cup up towards you.

“Ah. All of it.” He tutted, looking at you expectedly until you brought the cup up to your mouth again. He maintained eye contact with you, one hand rubbing over your bare thigh while he kept a single finger underneath your glass. It was firm enough to tell you to keep drinking, but not enough so you wouldn’t be able to move the glass on your own. “Good girl… that’s it, drink all of it. Atta girl.”

You loved being fucked rough and dirty and since you two decided not to use condoms, your favourite thing was being pumped full of his cum, even more so when he degraded you when it happened. Like he just did barely two minutes ago. But there was something even better about the aftercare. His sweet tone, his commanding and caring nature as he got you water and a snack. All of it.

And the praise. Somehow it was so much sexier when you two were post-sex, even more so when it was casual. A nonchalant ‘good girl’ when you did something he asked or a loving ‘I’m so proud of you’ when you got a good grade or finished an assignment. His atta girl at finishing your water nearly made you drop to your shaky knees and get him nice and hard again with your mouth.

He said the words like they were nothing then moved on, not really caring that you were like a frozen deer at the first sign of praise. “I happen to like your bed. It’s cosy.”

“Yeah…” you breathed, “cosy and next to a thin wall where even adjusting in my bed can be heard by next door.”

“You don’t think they’d like hearing you call me ‘Daddy’?” He grinned, putting his sweatpants on and grabbing your t shirt to help put that on you too. You’ll definitely have to shower the second you walk into your house. There’s just no way you don’t smell like a sex club.

“No, I don’t think so.” You finished the very last sip of your water, making sure there wasn’t a single drop left in the glass. Once it was all gone, Harry grabbed it from you and placed it down on the table out of the way, tipping your head up with a gentle finger under your chin while his thumb rubbed over the leftover wetness around your mouth from your drink.

“Thank you.” You whispered, kissing his thumb.

Harry smiled softly and guided your mouth to his for a single, deep, core-clenching kiss. It felt like a kiss that was promising so much more and even though you just had your fill, literally, it didn’t make you any less insatiable for him. There was just something about Harry dominating… truly dominating that turned you into a horny little rabbit.

You wouldn’t be surprised if Harry called you that one day. It felt like the less you saw each other, the more insatiable you became. With the last couple of weeks being so busy, each time you’ve seen each other had been takeaway or a quick dinner and quick - but good - sex. You didn’t have proper time together and while fucking until the morning sounded and felt like a good idea in the moment, when you both woke up and Harry had his long commute to work or you had a day full of classes it became a regret.

Well, not a regret per se. You’d never regret sleeping with him. Ever. But you both complained about being tired the entire day to each other. More you than him since you loved to complain about everything and now Harry was fortunate enough to be the one to hear it all. It was worth it, but it was hard.

You couldn’t take every weekend, or even every second weekend off work to spend time with Harry because you needed money and he couldn’t ‘work from home’ to spend time with you. Driving so much took it out of both of you too so it was always easier if he stayed the night. Things would change once your parents knew and you had a bit more freedom… but you had a feeling they wouldn’t be totally happy with you spending nights with him instead of them.

And next door to top it all off.

Your anxious feelings didn’t help the situation either, but even with that little hiccup, you had missed time. Time where you two could just explore each other's bodies and try new things, go multiple rounds without the stress of your responsibilities. You had that before you two started dating so you knew that the changes to your sex life were mostly your fault. Or because of your situation.

If you lived closer things would be a lot easier. But that was also life and you two were figuring out what worked for you and now to manage it all. Ideally, once you were finished with university, maybe you two would move in with each other or at the very least you’d want to live much closer to him.

It was still so early into your relationship and you didn’t want to jump too far… but being full of his cum made your brain a little dizzy and romantic. Suddenly you were ready to forget your birth control and let him fuck a baby in you so you could be at home with him all the time. As a fantasy of course.

Which is why your post-sex horny brain took a few seconds longer to process the next words out of his mouth.

“Hey, um. I need to tell you something.” He whispered, forehead pressed against yours. He slid his hand along your cheek to cup your face, letting his fingertips comb through your hair a little.

“Hm?” you asked, brows furrowing when you read the nervous look in his eyes. Your stomach dropped suddenly and that anxious gut feeling felt more rampant than ever. “What is it?”

“I have to go back to London.”

“Oh, okay.” You were a little taken aback. Harry hadn’t mentioned any trips or work events or anything recently. The timing of it right after the phone call too felt a bit unnerving. You just hoped everything was okay. “When?”

“Just over a month.” He murmured, feeling that steady beat of anxiety claw at his throat. Harry hated that he had to ruin such a good moment, such a pleasurable, romantic experience to talk about this. He wasn’t sure how you’d react and it scared the hell out of him.

“Wow, that’s short notice.” You wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, threading your fingers casually into his hair. “Is it… family? Or work or?”

“Family. I…” he swallowed thickly, hugging his arms around you. “It’s my sister’s birthday. Everyone’s going to be there.”

“That’s great.” You smiled, relieved that it wasn’t something horrible. That he was okay. “That’ll be such a nice trip, Harry. Did you saw them last year when you went over?”

Harry didn’t speak about them a lot. He didn’t not speak about them and when they came up he always had something to say, but it also wasn’t a topic he brought up by himself. He spoke about his travels quite often, but even that topic hadn’t come up in a while. You were a little glad actually because you didn’t really want to think about him going away for so long. The thought of him in Italy looking all gorgeous and tanned without you made you violently ill.

Harry shook his head and sighed, running his hand through his hair. “I haven’t been completely honest with you about my family.”

And there it was.

“What do you mean?” You asked softly, trying not to jump to any conclusions. Whatever it was had to be deeply personal and you knew that.

After the very brief mention of his nephew passing, you two hadn’t spoken about it once. You wanted to ask but it never felt like the right time and after that phone call, the last thing you wanted to do was make him think you were pressuring him into talking.

And now to learn there was more…

“Well… you know how I told you about my nephew?” You nodded, “When he died… it was right around the time I was meant to move here. The timing was so fucked. My flight had been booked for months and it was scheduled for the week after the funeral. Everything was packed and ready to go and my job was due to start only a few days after I landed in Melbourne…”

“That must’ve been so hard, Harry. I can’t imagine having to leave everyone so close to his passing.”

“It gets worse, y/n.” He shook his head, looking down at the floor. “When Harry Jr died, it really fucked me up. I already wasn’t in the best mental state because of my ex, even if I thought I was fine, and I couldn’t handle it.” You weren’t exactly sure where he was going with it. It was clear he did something, but what? “Harry Jr was like my own kid. Him and Lola were everything to me but he was just… like my twin. Lola and I were close but it didn’t compare to the bond Harry and I had. Losing him was… the worst thing that has ever happened to me and as fucked as it was and still is, I couldn’t handle it.”

Harry was starting to get worked up. His words were becoming a little shaky and you could feel how tense he became. He was holding onto you so tight and yet he was avoiding looking at you. He was scared to hear how you were going to react and he was having a hard time finding the words to explain what he had done.

Practicing with Max did nothing to help. He had told people before and been faced with his actions for years so it wasn’t a new discussion to have. But telling you, the love of his life, how he betrayed and destroyed his family only to keep himself distanced because he was a coward was the hardest it had ever been.

“Everyone grieves differently, Harry. It would’ve been hard for everyone.” You tried to soothe, combing through his hair.

“I changed my flight to the day of the funeral.” He just went and said it, immediately feeling your fingers stop in his hair and how you seemed to pull your body back from his. You didn’t mean to do it, but you were a little shocked. “I spent days breaking down and feeling the most depressed I had ever been. The idea of going to that funeral and seeing the small coffin… I couldn’t do it.” He stepped back from you, running his hands through his hair. He was shaking, his throat aching with how hard he was willing away the tears. His eyes were stinging and he didn’t want to face you as he explained the rest of the story, even when you slipped off the table and whispered his name, stepping forward to place a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I skipped the funeral without telling anyone and I flew here to start my new life.” He paused, swallowing thickly, “I left her, y/n. I left my only sister on the worst day of her life because I couldn’t handle it. She lost her son and I left. I left!” The words came out in an angry spit and his shoulders seemed to widen and slump forward like he was holding back immense rage. At himself. “We fought and she said she’d never forgive me again, fuck I can’t forgive myself. I don’t even want to.”

You were a little thrown off balance, to be honest. You never expected him to say any of that and to hide it from you for so long. But you couldn’t be upset either. He made a terrible mistake and you could see how badly it was eating him up. Harry was a proud person and very rarely doubted himself or his actions, yet you knew he was so ashamed in himself for what he did. It was hard to see.

“Harry…” You tried to get him to turn around with a little squeeze of his shoulder but he shrugged it off.

“My mum hated me, Gemma hated me, Andy hated me. Everyone hated me and I deserved it. I’ve skipped every Christmas since because I couldn’t face it and because I was a coward. I’m still a coward. I’ve sent letters and texts and tried to call her and I’ve never been able to see her face to face because I’m scared. I’ve never been able to push myself to that next step because I keep thinking it’s too late. That she’ll never forgive me.”

You could see how devastated he was about it and how angry he was at himself. And you understood it. He had spent nearly five years away from his family, beating himself up because of a huge mistake he made. And it was huge. You weren’t going to dispel that. You weren’t even sure that if you were in Gemma’s place, you’d ever get over something like that.

But Harry has also changed a lot. You imagined Harry Jr’s death changed him for the worse. Since the moment you met him, he always was a selfish, narcissistic person. It was never a secret that he lived his life for himself and cared about money and his job over anything else and maybe Harry Jr’s death had something to do with that. But since knowing him he’s made so many improvements to himself. He’s completely turned around to try and be an honest and good person.

The things he did for you and put himself through to protect you wouldn’t be done by just anyone. He had so much love in him and had proved that time and time again. He was attentive and caring and so generous. You were starting to think that he always was that person but was torturing himself for so long because of the mistakes he had made that it was easier to keep people at an arm's length.

After knowing him deeper though, you knew that his family meant a lot to him. He spoke to his mum at least twice a week and looked after her financially too. She was a young mum and had already been retired for nearly 10 years because of the way Harry invested his money and the success he had in all his different ventures. Being able to retire a parent when you’re barely 30 and live your own life in such an extravagant way is a massive achievement.

Which is why you were just so shocked he hadn’t visited Gemma in person yet to try and mend things. How did it take so long for him to finally make the decision to go back to the UK and mend things with her, at least you assumed that’s why he wanted to go to her birthday. You assumed the phone call with his mum had something to do with it too.

You weren’t really sure what to make of it or what to say. You loved him and were always going to love him and it hurt to know that he had been in a mental place so low and so far gone that he hurt his only sibling this badly. He was suffering with his own grief and unable to cope that badly that his sister, the mother of his nephew had to mourn the loss of her son and her brother all at the same time.

It was awful all around.

“Harry. Turn around, please.” You coaxed gently, giving his shoulder another little squeeze. He inhaled a shaky breath and slowly turned around, showing you his reddened eyes and puffy nose. “Come here.” You guided, grabbing his hand to pull him towards the couch so you two could sit and talk about it properly. He remained silent while you took his hands in yours, trying to find the right words to support him.

“What you did was wrong…” His expression seemed to fall even further, complete despair in his eyes. “But you don’t need me to tell you that.” You softened your expression, reaching up to cup his face in both hands. “You’ve been torturing yourself because of this for years and I get it. I can’t put myself in your shoes or even Gemma’s shoes because I don’t have siblings and I don’t have nieces or nephews but I understand loss and I understand family. Everyone grieves differently but the one constant in our lives is our family. I don’t think it’s too late to make up for it.”

“You don’t mean that.” He whispered, scanning your face. “Why don’t you hate me? I fucked up.”

“You did and I won’t excuse what you did. But you were in a horrible part of your life and yeah, the right thing to do was go to the funeral, but you made your choice and you’ve lived with the consequences already. You have changed and grown so much since we started dating, Harry, and I can see the difference it’s making in your life. All you can do now is try and show Gemma you’ve changed. That you’re better.”

Harry said nothing for a moment and swallowed the lump in his throat, “I’ve tried to go home to her for years and every time I get close, I see how happy they are without me and it stops me. There was one Summer I even made it to the front gate and saw Gemma and Lola through the window. They looked so happy. Lola was so big and Gemma looked at peace. I didn’t want to destroy that.”

“Don’t you think she’d be happier knowing she had her brother back?” You asked softly, dropping your hands from his face to grab his hands instead.

“I don’t know.” He admitted, “My mum has been trying to get me to go back for a long time, always trying to convince me that everyone missed me. That Gemma missed me. I never went because I was thinking about myself instead of her. It was easier for me to stay away than confront what I did. But I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to be that person.”

He sounded so determined and he was. He always appreciated your honesty and you kept him accountable time and time again but you did it in a way that still supported him. You listened to him fully and offered support and advice. You didn’t act like he was a monster. He hoped that you felt like that on the inside too.

“Is that what the phone call was about? Her birthday?”

Harry nodded. “My mum has been hounding me about it for months. When the call happened I wasn’t ready to tell you because I was scared I’d lose you. Really fucking scared. I know it upset you, baby, and I’m so sorry.” He squeezed your hands, bringing them up to his mouth to kiss your knuckles. “I didn’t mean to lie. I didn’t want to. I hope I haven’t lost you because I was ashamed.”

“You haven’t.” You smiled, squeezing his hands. “You haven't. I was upset at the time, but I didn’t want to press you because you’re allowed to have things that are just yours... I knew you’d tell me when you were ready.” You reached up to cup his cheek, watching the way he nuzzled into your touch, eyes fluttering closed at the comfort he felt. “I don’t think you’re that person anymore, Harry. I think Gemma would appreciate the work you’ve put into yourself to become a better person.”

“You think so?” He whispered, scanning your face with his eyes.

You nodded. “I think it’ll take time. I honestly don’t know how things will work out because I don’t know her, but I know you and I know you’ll do everything you can to fix things with her. You’re her brother, Harry.”

“I love you,” Harry murmured, sliding his hand into the hair at the nape of your neck to draw you in for a kiss. This wasn’t the end of this conversation by any means. You had questions and you hoped that he’d be a lot more open about his family now. This was such an intense, deep-rooted issue. If he wanted to talk about it more, which you hoped he did, it wouldn’t happen in one night.

The kiss deepened ever so slightly, ending with a little run of his tongue against your bottom lip while he rested his forehead against yours. “Will you come with me?”

“What? Where? To London?” You blinked, a little surprised at his sudden request.

He nodded, tightening his hand in your hair just a little. It wasn’t to hurt you, just to feel you. “I don’t know if I can do it by myself. I want you there.”

“Harry-” you tried to interrupt, but it was like he felt your hesitation before you even said anything.

“I can show you my hometown, my house. You can meet my mum, maybe even Gemma. I just… I don’t want to leave you. I want you to come with me.”

This felt like something he needed to do by himself. It happened before he even knew you and was such an important step in his life. Family is family and it would almost feel like an intrusion to be there when he’d be sorting through so much history.

“Harry…” you sighed, leaning back. “I want nothing more than to support you but I have school. I don’t know if I can take time off and I’ve still got this trip planned at the end of the year with my friends. Money wise too… it’s a lot and it’s so soon.”

“You wouldn’t have to pay for a thing, y/n. I’d never let you do that.” His voice turned lower just a touch like he was almost reprimanding you for even suggesting he’d let you pay for a single thing. “And I think it might even align with your semester break, at least some of it anyway. Even if you flew in later and met me there? We could travel. I could take you to my house in Italy.” He was trying so hard to convince you but by the look on your face, it wasn’t working.

“It’s not just that, Harry.” You chuckled at his attempts to convince you, which actually were quite appealing. “I love you and the idea of Italy and seeing where you grew up is so… amazing but I think this is something you need to do by yourself. There is so much history there and so much you need to work through. I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to go.”

“I want you to come.” He coaxed, pecking you quickly. God when he had that almost pouty look on his face and murmured so sweetly… you’d agree to anything. “You can do your own thing. You’ve always wanted to go to London. There’s so much to do and you can do whatever you want. As long as I get to see you at the end of the day, that’s all that matters. Have you in my bed every night.” Now the thought of that was extremely appealing. “Just think about it. Please.”

“I’ll think about it.” You compromised, smiling softly.

“Thank you.” He kissed you again before wrapping his arms around you to draw you into his chest. Both of you knew you had to head home, but it wasn’t the right time for you to leave. You couldn’t.

You spent the next hour or so just wrapped in his arms, then him wrapped in yours. He opened up a little more about Gemma and his extended family and he already seemed so much more open to speak about them. You could tell this was something that weighed heavy on him for a long time.

Archie made his way from outside at some point too, bringing in a trail of dust and leaves that broke the tension in the room and let you and Harry distract yourselves by bathing him. He had been running a muck outside the entire time, obsessively playing with a new toy Harry bought him. He was so engrossed in it, that he didn’t even know you came over.

That was probably a good idea since you and Harry spent a lot of your time together naked. You swear Archie had PTSD from Harry’s instruction to go to his bed.

It was late by the time you peeled yourself from Harry, not wanting to leave but knowing you had to. He didn’t want you to leave either but you promised to come over before you left in the morning. He was tempted to come home with you and you had a feeling he might drive back in his own car so he could spend the night with you, or even the day before driving back in the night.

It was times like these where you hated that your parents didn’t know about him. After learning everything, maybe it was time.

“Hey, baby.” Your mum greeted, hugging you the moment you walked into your kitchen.

“Hi.” You smiled, hugging her back. “Hey, Dad.”

“Hey, pumpkin.” He hugged you next, kissing your forehead before returning to the pot he was stirring on the stove.

“Sorry I took forever, I was catching up with Harry then Archie ended up dragging dirt through the house so I stayed to help him clean up.” You explained, hoping she bought the excuse. There was this expression on her face that just told you she didn’t believe you, but she didn’t say anything about it so you decided to leave it and not say too much. Otherwise, she’d really know something was up if you started waffling.

“It’s nice you two have stayed so close.” There was something about the way she focused on the word ‘close’, but she had a glass of wine in hand and always liked to read into things when she got a bit tipsy. You hoped you were just being a little paranoid. “You think he’ll give you your job back over your semester break?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I might just plan my shifts at the cafe so I can be here for a couple of days then at mine for a couple of days. I don’t want to cut my shifts at the cafe completely.”

“Mh.” She agreed, “think about it. You know I like having you around.”

“I know. I like being here too.” You smiled, “I’m going to shower and get changed quickly. I’ll be right back.”

“Alright. Don’t be too long.” She called after you.

“I won’t!”

The night continued as it always did. Dinner, a glass of wine, an update on your week of uni and your night out with your friends (sans Harry, of course). Then Dad went to his office to do some quotes and your mum and you wound up on the couch watching The Real Housewives. Another couple glasses of wine was involved, but it was a Saturday night and you had nowhere to be tomorrow except home.

Perfect.

Until your mum paused the show while you got up to get a snack and when you returned, she had no plans of playing it again. She had this look on her face, like she was getting ready to announce something really big or ask you an invasive question.

It was the latter.

“Are you okay?” You asked, landing on the couch with a heavy seat. The wine slowly infused in your body, making you feel like a heavy lump of bones. You were getting to the point where one more sip of wine would knock you out and your pillow was calling your name.

“I need to ask you something.” She shifted on the couch, sitting cross legged while facing you. She still had her glass of wine in hand, eyeing it like she had a nervous tick.

“Okay…” you looked at her a little funny, taking a sip of wine.

“Are you sleeping with Harry?” At her words, your eyes widened and the wine suddenly travelled down the wrong hole. You coughed repeatedly and Mum was quick to lean forward to tap your back until your coughing subsided. “Our neighbour, Harry.”

“Thanks for the clarification, Mum, but I only know one Harry.” You coughed, rubbing the sore spot over your chest. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Just answer the question. Is it true?”

Shit. What were you even meant to do? You didn’t want to lie about it because the truth would always come out, but you also weren’t ready to talk about it. You had this whole speech planned and all these things you wanted to say when you brought it up to her and now that she was the one asking you about it, there was nothing in your head.

You felt bombarded by it. But maybe it was better to tell her first before your dad found out. At least this way you could explain everything and diffuse any worries so when he found out, your mum would be on your side. And you knew she would be. Or hopeful at best. Maybe not at first, but all she wanted was your happiness and if Harry made you happy, she’d support you with it.

Your parents had always told you that they didn’t care what you did with your life as long as you were happy, healthy and safe. They’d support you if it truly was what you wanted. When they said that they were talking about work, not dating your neighbour, but it still applied.

It would be a shock to them and you knew that, but no one was getting hurt and you were happier than you had ever been. You knew they’d understand. Eventually anyway.

“Um…” you trailed off, looking away briefly. “Yes? But we’re not sleeping together, we’re… we’re dating.” Even though you could tell she wasn’t surprised, the look of pure disappointment on her face expressed exactly how she felt. She didn’t want you to say yes. “I was going to tell you.” You jumped in again before she replied, wanting to get as much out as possible before she gave her opinion. “I swear. I wanted to tell you and Dad both at the same time so you two wouldn’t get all weird with each other if one of you knew first.”

“Oh god, y/n!” Mum pinched the bridge of her nose. She took a heavy sip of wine before continuing like it would somehow make the news easier to bear. “I had a feeling you were going to say that. I prayed that you weren’t and yet here we are.”

“You knew? How?”

“I didn’t know, but I kind of worked it out. You've been a little giddier than usual. Always looking at your phone and you’re always going over there when you come to visit. He's been different too. Less broody and secretive and he's been getting a dogsitter for Archie for a lot more overnights than usual. Mother’s know these things, y/n. So… explain. How did it start?”

Was it seriously that obvious? When she put it like that, it kind of was obvious that you were seeing someone. She wasn't particularly upset by it, but her tone wasn't overly jovial either. She was calm. Calm was good.

Though it could've been the wine making her more relaxed.

“I guess we kind of got closer as I dogsat Archie. We’d always talk for ages and we had that weekly dinner, which you knew about. Then one day… I don’t know. Things changed.” You averted eye contact, feeling a blush graze your cheeks at the memory of the first time you two slept together.

“You were sleeping together?” You nodded silently, knowing that she’d be able to tell if you were lying. “When?”

“What?”

“When was the first time?”

“Mum.” You protested, “you don’t need to know that.”

“I do, actually because now that I know it happened, I need to know when it started.”

“Yes but-”

“So when was the first time, y/n?”

You clearly weren't getting out of this one.

“...A few weeks before his birthday, I guess.”

“A few weeks before his birthday.” She repeated to herself, “so you were dogsitting for him and having dinner with him for weeks and what? You two were just sleeping together each time just like that? All those times you came home ‘late’, you were sleeping with him? Right next door? Have you slept with him here?”

“Mum, stop!” You whined, hating how she seemed to be spiralling about the fact you had sex.

Her questions were practically spitfire and if you didn't stop her now, she'd continue and her questions would get way more invasive. She always was like that when she drank. Nosy and more brazen than usual. Dad always said it was because she was pretty that she got away with the way she ran her mouth when she drank.

Mum was harmless, but God if there was even a smidge of a secret hanging around she'd find out and talk about it to anyone and everyone.

She knew you weren’t a virgin and while you didn’t share every detail of your sex life, she knew you had slept with a couple of guys. You were always open and honest with her to an extent because you valued her advice, especially when your heart got involved and you ended up getting hurt. But right now you didn’t want to hear her fears or her spiralling bout the fact you had sex next door when you knew she and Dad had sex only two rooms away from you. If it were up to her, she’d know every detail about every aspect of your life.

You understood it to an extent and you practically did share everything with her. But seriously. Boundaries.

“I love you but it’s none of your business. I don’t ask when you and dad have sex because that’s disgusting so don’t ask me!”

“Fine. Fine. You’re right.” She let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes, “Just tell me you’re still on birth control and we can move on.”

“Yes. I am.”

“Good because I swear to God, y/n, if you come home pregnant...”

“Mum!”

“I had to say it, okay? It’s my job as a mother. Now continue.”

“It wasn’t serious at first and neither-” you paused to give her a warning glance when it looked like she was going to make another comment about your sex life. She only rolled her eyes and sipped her wine again, attentively listening to you talk, “neither of us wanted a relationship and I always said to you too that it didn’t interest me but he somehow managed to change my mind about it all. He didn't mean to and he was further away from commitment than I was... but the longer it went on, the more we realised that it was more than just casual." You let out a sigh, "I didn’t want to like him mum, I didn’t. There were problems and he had problems and I knew it was stupid to fall for someone who lived his whole life single and selfish but things changed and kept changing. He changed.”

The whole time you spoke, she actively listened. She didn’t try to interrupt or even make any weird noises of indignation that your dad definitely would. She just listened and processed it. You appreciated that.

“It wasn’t an easy beginning to our relationship because we had a lot of differences and he… he hurt me really bad. I almost told you back then too because he broke my heart. Really bad.” Your voice broke slightly, feeling that same break in your heart that you did at the very beginning.

“Y/n.” She soothed, placing her hand on yours over your knee. “You could’ve told me back then, y’know. I would’ve been there for you. I'm a little hurt you didn't trust me enough to come talk to me about this.”

“It's not about trust, mum. You know I trust you. Everything was just so complicated and I didn’t want to talk about it. I didn’t really think we’d get back together, anyway, so I didn’t want to start something and have you storm to his house to tell him off for no reason when I thought it was over.”

“I would’ve done that. I can still do that for you, if you want?” She smiled, sipping her wine again.

“No, don't," You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “We worked things out and… well we never looked back. Before we ended our casual relationship so badly, Harry was really complicated and secretive and God sometimes I wanted to strangle him. But when we got back together… he changed everything for me, mum. He worked on himself and is still working on himself and honestly, I’m probably the happiest I’ve ever been. He treats me so so well and he spoils me and loves me everyday and-”

“He loves you?” She interrupted, “as in you loves you.”

You nodded.

“And you love him back?”

You took an extra moment to respond to her, not really sure where she was going with her comments. “I do. I know I do.”

“y/n…” She sighed. You could feel the change in the air. How her active listening turned to disappointment and a hope that your relationship would end before it properly started. “I honestly thought that you were just dating and having fun and he was buying you nice things, but love? I have no doubt you feel that way towards him but isn’t it too soon?”

“I just know, mum. I had no control over it and I never meant for it to happen but it did and… and I’m happy. I’m so happy with him and even with the distance and everything else, we’re making it work.”

“But how? He’s not too much younger than your dad and I and he’s got no kids, has never been married? Everyone knows he’s had his fun and sleeps with whoever he wants, what’s to say he doesn’t still want that? And then there’s the opposite. What if he’s finally done with being a bachelor and wants to settle and have kids before he gets too old? Is that what you want? Because I know it’s not.” She gave you this look and crossed her arms over her chest, like she already knew what your answer would be.

She seemed to know all your answers tonight.

“Of course I don’t want that. Not now anyway. But he doesn’t want that and he doesn’t want to sleep around either.”

“So you two haven’t spoken about settling down?” She fired back, already knowing that you had. Your mum was the best reader of people and relationships, probably because she stuck her nose in everyone's business and knew all the ways they failed.

“I mean we have but not for now. Like… just so we both know that this isn’t a short term kind of thing.”

“Y/n, baby. You are so young. So young and gorgeous and smart.” She soothed, leaning forward to cup your face and run her hands over your hair. “You have your whole life in front of you and the whole world at your fingertips. Why are you settling down with someone who’s already experienced everything? Would you not rather explore the world with someone who hasn’t seen it over and over again?”

“Mum, I can still do everything I want to do when I’m with him." You exasperated, brushing her hands off you. "I can travel and work overseas if I want and I still see my friends and do everything normal. Being in a relationship doesn’t stop that and if anything, Harry’s position makes it easier. He’s stable financially and is happy to slow down and do what I want. It’s not that he doesn’t get a say, but he’s got the freedom and wants to experience everything with me. It may not seem like it, but he’s got a lot of firsts too, mum. Trust me, I’ve thought about it all.”

“Look, I don’t know him very well.” She sighed, settling back against the couch. “He’s been living next door for nearly five years and I couldn’t even tell you what footy team he supports, but he’s always been polite and charming. All I can do is go off that and what you tell me and if you’re telling me you’re happy then… I guess I’m happy too. I just don’t want you to get hurt, y/n. By anyone.”

“I know. I don’t want that either but I promise you’ll love him like I do. You’ll see why he means so much to me. You and dad.” You smiled, reaching for her hand and giving it a squeeze.

“I hope so.” She smiled back, squeezing your hand in return. “So tell me more. Tell me everything.”

The next few hours were spent practically debriefing your entire relationship. You kept the bigger problems private as she simply wouldn’t understand the Ethan situation, but you told her everything else you two had been through. If it had something to do with Ethan, you twisted the story a little but for the most part, it was an amazing chat.

You loved your mum more than anything and to actually sit there and talk about Harry so freely and honestly and have her engage properly was the best feeling ever. She freely gave advice (even when you didn’t want it) but you were happy with that. You didn’t have a lot of boy problems so actually having someone to talk about with her was everything to you. It made you hopeful for the future of your relationship with Harry and took so much weight off your shoulders.

It was liberating.

“Oh god…” mum wheezed, her laughter coming to a stop as she finished off her final glass of wine for the evening. “I’m too drunk right now but in the morning we’ll brainstorm how to get back at chatty Cathy across the road. She can never ever keep her mouth shut. That woman.”

“What? What are you talking about?” Your brows furrowed and that happy, calm energy you had somehow dissipated into thin air.

“Tracey? The only reason I asked you if you were seeing Harry was because Tracey’s been hinting at it for weeks. I thought I told you.”

“No… you didn’t.”

Your mind was suddenly twisting and turning. After everything you had been through with her and Ethan and even just the shit between you and Harry, she still wouldn’t leave you alone. You had done nothing to her and left her alone since you moved out for school and yet she still had to run her mouth off about you? You just didn’t get it.

Harry had recordings over her admitting to lying to you and you had photos of her cheating and she knew that and still decided to try and get some attention her way? Nope. Not on your fucking watch.

You were over it. You were over being the target of people who you had nothing to do with. Who only wanted to use you to get money or for some other stupid fucking reason that meant nothing in real life. You were done. So if she was going to run her big fat mouth about you, then you were going to do it right back and you were going to hit her where it hurt the most. Her family.

It was only a couple of days later when the truth came out. You weren’t trying to hide it from Harry but it also wasn’t exactly a conversation you wanted to have over the phone. He got called into work for some client emergency on Sunday which ruined his plan to come spend the day and/or night with you. Then neither of you could see the other until Tuesday as he planned to work from home on Wednesday.

You were glad that his quiet days seemed to align with yours because it meant you could spend more time together. Even if you were both busy working or doing uni work, just being in his presence was enough to make you happy. And now that your mum knew about you two… it was only a matter of time before you could start spending nights at his house too.

“Baby?” You heard Harry’s voice echo through your apartment, easily being heard in the shower due to your thin walls.

“In here.” You yelled back, scrubbing your nails through your scalp to rinse out the remaining conditioner. Harry accidentally went home with your keypass after going on his morning run the last time he stayed over. He kept it in his shorts pocket so he wouldn’t wake you and it wound up in his bags somehow, hence his ability to enter your place without you needing to go downstairs and get him. He wasn’t really meant to have them, but it was only for a couple of days and Maeve had your spares so you could still get in and out easily.

“Can I come in?” He asked a moment later, knocking on the bathroom door.

“Yeah.”

Wordlessly, he opened the door and let himself in, scanning your naked body from head to toe. You were facing the wall with your eyes closed, head tilted back so the water was streaming down your hair. Gorgeous. He had been craving you all day. It was just one of those days where it was shit after shit and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed with you and just be wrapped in your arms.

“Can I join you?” Harry asked softly, itching to jump in the hot water with you. He was already loosening his tie. Before entering your bathroom he took off his jacket and shoes so he was ready to let the rest of his clothes fall to the ground without care. You always had showers extremely hot and now that the weather was cooling down, Harry quite liked the sauna it left behind in the bathroom. He didn’t particularly enjoy it when it was 30° outside but he never let that stop him from getting in a shower with you.

“Of course, you can.” You smiled, still facing away from him. You always felt a little vulnerable being in a shower with him. Even though he had seen your body plenty of times, there was still something so sacred and personal about getting clean. You were glad you had already washed yourself before he came in because the last thing you needed him to see was you plucking out one of your long hairs from your underarms or ass.

“I wasn’t sure what time you’d be here.” You hummed, feeling the slide of his cold bare hands along your hips as he joined you in the shower.

“Yeah, I had to work late. ‘M sorry to keep you waiting.” He murmured, kissing your shoulder while wrapping his arms fully around you. You sighed into the touch, tilting your head back to welcome the feeling of his body around yours. He snuggled against you, proper bear-hugging you while digging his forehead into the crook of your neck.

“It’s okay. Maeve dragged me to a late Pilates class so I had to wash my hair. I swear I sweat like two litres every time.” You laughed softly, “I would’ve waited for you. I like being at the door to greet you.”

“I like having you greet me too.” He kissed your neck softly, “did you have fun at Pilates? I haven’t been for a while.”

“I liked it. It was a beginner class so no handstands or anything like you do but I’m sore already. ” You teased, turning around slowly to face him. He kept your body close, immediately kissing you once your faces were in line. “We should go together sometime. I’ve been trying to get Jay to go but he keeps blowing me off.” You offered, immediately sensing that something was off with him.

“I’d like that.” He murmured, pressing his lips against yours again. Harry was craving your comfort. He didn’t want to start anything or get too riled up, he just loved the warmth that spread through his chest when his mouth melted into yours. It could be a peck, a pash, a full snogging session. It didn’t matter.

You combed your fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his face. “How was your day?”

“Shit. Just one of those days, y’know.” Harry replied, pressing your foreheads together before kissing you again. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Do you want to talk about it?” You slowly eased your bodies around so he was facing the water instead of you. He shook his head and let his eyes flutter closed as the hot water streamed over his head. You pushed his hair back from his face, kissing his chest. “Okay.” When Harry wanted to talk he’d willingly do so, so you weren’t going to push him. Sometimes work was just shit and you got that. He’d probably talk about it later once he decompressed and relaxed. “You want me to wash your hair?”

A smile grew on his face at your offer and he tipped his head down to look at you. Harry loved having his hair played with and his scalp scratched. He was like a cat. Sometimes he’d just lay there with his head on your lap for hours while you played with his hair. You first found it out during sex because he liked the pain, especially when his head was between your thighs so it only made sense he’d like it out of the bedroom too.

“You sure?”

You nodded and reached up on your tippy toes to kiss him. “Turn around.”

He pecked your mouth gently as a thank you then turned around to face the water. Wordlessly, you grabbed your shampoo and squeezed some onto your hands, rubbing them together to emulsify before you brought them to his scalp.

Harry moaned as you massaged his scalp, using your nails to scratch as you went. “That feels good.”

“Good.” You hummed, happy to look at the expanse of his back. His back muscles were incredible.

It sometimes amazed you how fit he was, but with his daily runs and intense personal training sessions he somehow managed to squeeze into his routine, it really was no wonder that he looked the way he did. He worked his ass off to be as fit as he was and to stay that way and it all paid off because his physique was better than any boy your age.

You joined him in a personal training session once and you had no doubt any of the boys you had been with in the past would fail halfway through. Would you say you participated in said session? No. You were lugged over his shoulders so he could use your weight to do squats though.

“Are we okay?” Harry asked suddenly, voice soft.

“Of course we are.” You replied instantly. “Why wouldn’t we be?” You continued rubbing circles on his scalp, massaging him to make it more pleasurable and relaxing. Your arms were already starting to ache a little, but it was worth it.

“I’m just making sure.”

“I love you, Harry. Nothing will change that.” You murmured, running your hands down from his scalp to massage his neck and over his shoulder. He echoed the sentiment, voice just audible over the water as your lips created the trail for your hands to follow; over his neck and the expanse of his shoulders, down to the middle of his back and as low as you could go without bending.

The tension was slowly leaving his body. Tense muscles melting and relaxing, his tense shoulders slumping until he was heavy on his feet. He was completely pliant to your touch and you couldn’t wait to wrap your arms around him and cuddle in bed. Part of you even wanted to skip dinner and head straight to bed.

“Rinse it, H.” You whispered, kissing a little freckle on his back before pulling back to give him space to turn around. He started scrubbing the shampoo out while you prepared his conditioner, rubbing it through your hands so it covered all your fingers.

“Y’know something interesting did happen today. It was quite a spectacle in the neighbourhood.” Harry mused, already feeling better just by your touch and loving words. He stayed facing towards you to catch your reaction, which was as easy to read as ever.

“What?” You froze for a split second while reaching to thread the conditioner through his hair, already knowing exactly what he was talking about.

“Tracey was kicked out. Unfortunately I was already on my way to work but she was crying so loud everyone on the street was watching. Apparently, he found out she was cheating on him. You know anything about that?” He had this look of knowing on his face and it was like he knew that you had something to do with it.

Shit.

“About that…” you smiled sheepishly, putting your hands down to let the conditioner sit in his hair.

“I knew it!” He accused, laughing while squeezing your hips. “What did you do?”

“Okay, but you can’t be mad.” You laughed, poking his chest. “I was going to tell you tonight, okay?”

“Mad? Why would I be mad?” His brows knitted together, “I’m sure whatever you did had good reasoning behind it.”

“Well, yeah she’s a cunt but it’s not that.” Harry laughed loudly at your comment and you could feel his mood being lifted like steam dissipating in the air. You had such a fucking mouth on you sometimes. He loved it. “When I got home after we had that talk, everything was normal until my mum and I were watching TV after dinner. She said she had to talk about something and then just flat-out asked me if you and I were sleeping together! Like it was nothing.”

“Shit.” His eyes widened, “And what did you tell her?”

“I told her the… truth.” You were a little nervous to tell him. A lot nervous actually. You knew he was ready to tell your parents whenever you were, but it felt wrong to have that conversation without him. But you couldn’t exactly call him or go over to his house after he just told you about his nephew. That would’ve been all sorts of fucked. Your mum knowing about you two dating meant nothing compared to what he was going through.

“You did?”

“Yes. I’m really sorry.” You rushed out. “I wanted you to know when I was going to do it but I couldn’t lie to her when she was straight out asking me the question.”

“And you thought I’d be mad?” He scoffed, laughing softly while tucking your hair behind your ear. “Baby, the only way I’d be mad is if you were pressured into doing something you weren’t ready for. Were you okay having that conversation with her? I know… I know you weren’t ready to tell your parents yet.”

“Harry she asked me because Tracey was talking shit. After everything, everything we went through and all the fucked up shit she did and she still can’t leave me alone. I’ve done nothing to her.”

That manipulative cunt.

Harry didn’t like to use that word very often. Other than the obvious use when he was trying to degrade you. But there was simply no other word in the English language that summed up who Tracey was. Desperate? Yes. Annoying? Just the sound of her breathing had Harry gritting his teeth. But the only word that truly encompassed everything about her was cunt.

He had no idea that her being kicked out was because she was causing problems again. He assumed it had something to do with you because you were cheeky and sneaky at times, but he didn’t expect this. After everything that happened, he thought you guys were done with her.

“What the fuck? Fucking hell, y/n. Why didn’t you tell me?” He was getting a little frustrated at you now and you could see it in his expression. You just grabbed his hair and tilted his hair back, forcing his hair back under the water to rinse the conditioner out. Even though he was annoyed you didn’t tell him, he was still pliant to your touch and it took very minimal effort to maneuver his head.

“Because we just spoke about your family and my drama literally doesn’t matter compared to what you’re going through. I didn’t want to bother you and then I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”

“Of course it matters.” He scoffed, “You shouldn’t have to deal with this shit by yourself. I thought she was dealt with, but clearly not. How long have you known?”

“I found out when my mum asked me about us. I had no idea anything was happening before that.”

“So… what? Tracey’s been running her mouth?”

“Basically.” You sighed, still running your fingers through his hair to get rid of the last bits of conditioner. “She hasn’t said anything directly, but she’s been making comments and saying random things that makes people think that we’re sleeping together. At least that’s what my mum said.”

“I don’t get why she’s doing this.” He sighed, “You’ve moved out and we’ve left her alone after everything that happened. She’s got no reason to come after us again.”

“Like I said, she’s a cunt.” Your words came out matter-of-factly, eliciting a roll of Harry’s eyes. “She’s probably bored and thinks that it’s easy to use me to have her fun because I’m not there to defend myself.”

“Bullshit. I’m there to defend you. Why isn’t she scared of me?” Harry scoffed, eliciting a laugh in response.

“Harry she’s obsessed with you and even if you blackmailed her and stomped all over her old wrinkly heart, she still wants you.”

“I didn’t stomp over anything. And I’m taking your old wrinkly statement as an insult.”

“Yeah right. You love being the ripe age of 39. ‘I get sexier with age, y/n’.” You quoted, attempting to mimic his low raspy accent. He raised a brow and immediately went for your sensitive spots, squeezing your waist with light twinkling fingers in an attempt to tickle you. “Stop!” You squealed, hitting his hands away. “Stop it Harry!”

“Admit I get sexier as I age. Admit it.” He threw back, wrapping one arm around your waist while using the other to tickle you.

“I hate you!” You tried to push his hand off, laughing and wiggling and squealing all at the same time. It didn’t help that you two were still very much naked. “Whatever. You’re sexier as you age.”

The tickling stopped instantly and Harry had this smug grin on his face, happy that he beat you. “Thank you.”

“You’re a child.” You rolled your eyes.

“Come on. Finish the story.” He laughed softly, looping his arms around your waist.

“I don’t even know what I was up to before your ego got bruised.”

He chose to ignore that statement. “You were explaining how obsessed Tracey is with me.”

“Oh, right. She’s obsessed with you so obviously she won’t be scared and she’s not threatened by me. She really didn’t think that I’d retaliate in any way even if I told her I would and now look at her. I think I handled it pretty fucking perfectly.” You announced proudly.

It felt a little evil to be so happy over someone elses pain. You had ruined Tracey’s life and yet you were satisfied. It felt justified. In the beginning you never wanted to use your threats against her. You just wanted to be left alone, even if that meant sitting on evidence that she was having an affair. Now though… you felt worse about keeping it a secret than using it to get back at her.

“I’d say so.” Harry laughed. “How did it all happen?”

“She goes to pilates on Sundays so I waited until she was gone and went over to speak with Oscar. All I did was tell the truth and show him one of the photos of her and Ethan. I felt really bad for him, actually. He believed me even before I showed him a photo but he still wanted to see it, probably for proof so he doesn’t have to pay her out.”

“Well shit.” Harry laughed, quickly turning you both around so you got some of the hot water. “He clearly didn’t take it well.”

You shook your head. “No. I could tell he was trying not to cry. I feel like I should’ve told him earlier.” You looked away for a moment, “it feels wrong to use one persons tragedy to get back at someone else. Like this is probably the worst thing to ever happen to him and I used it to get back at her. He doesn’t deserve that. Neither do his kids.”

“I know. The truth had to come out some way, though. It always does. Don’t blame yourself too much for it just because you benefited from it in some way. ” He grabbed your chin gently, guiding you to look back at him. “How did your mum react when you told her about us, anyway?”

You were glad he was switching back to your mum because you really didn’t want to dwell to much on Tracey of all people. Or the shittiness you felt.

“She already knew before Tracey started talking about us. She had this look on her face like she was waiting for me to outright say it.”

“Wow. Really?”

“Yeah… she said it was mother’s intuition or whatever. I’m surprised she waited this long to say something about it, to be honest. She usually can’t keep her mouth shut and she already had a glass of wine when we spoke about it.”

Harry smiled at your comment, smoothing his hands over your back. “Was she upset about it? What did she say?”

“We spoke about it for a long time. She wasn’t upset but not thrilled either. I told her how happy I am and a little bit about our relationship so far and she seemed happy that it’s going well, but she’s still worried. I think she’s worried about the age gap and… well, your reputation. She doesn’t want me to get hurt.”

You didn’t really want to go through the entire conversation with him. Nothing bad happened but it also felt like something that just you and your mum needed to know about. She gave you a lot of advice that made you feel lucky to have someone like her in your life. She was concerned but she actually listened to you, even when the conversation went a little wild, she listened to you and shared her own opinion as well. It went as well as you could’ve hoped.

“My reputation as in…”

“Your one night stands. Obviously, I assured her that she didn’t have to worry about it. She thinks you’re charming but I think that also scares her. You’re the first real relationship I’ve had and it’s not exactly conventional and… I don’t know.” You sighed, looking away for a moment, “She said that she hoped my first love would be someone my age, that I’d date more before feeling so strongly about someone.”

Harry didn’t like the sound of that. So far, your mum’s concerns were valid ones and ones he expected. He never thought it would be easy or something your parents would understand right away and he prepared himself for that. They weren’t much older than him so navigating his relationship with them and you would take time.

But he didn’t like the way those words came out of your mouth. That your mum hoped your first love was someone else and that you had more experience with other people before settling down. You two weren’t exactly planning for a baby or anything, it had barely been four months, and neither of you put any expectations on your relationship. You were young and he never imagined himself as the marrying type so you both just wanted to date and love each other and see how things evolved.

But you were still in it for the long haul with each other. This wasn’t a short term arrangement or something casual. You two loved each other.

For Harry, he had already experienced heartbreak in all forms and he had grown from that. The Harry that survived his very first love was a completely different person to now. It wasn’t the only thing that shaped him to be the man he was today, but it contributed a lot to his life. He was at a point in his life now where meeting you and falling in love with you had completely changed how he thought his life would go.

He wanted to settle down with you. He couldn’t picture a future without you in it and you made it very clear that you loved him more than anything and you wanted to have that future with him.

But you didn’t have what Harry had. You didn’t have years of making mistakes and meeting people and exploring yourself. Of figuring out who you are and what you want in life. You can do that with a partner and Harry knew he could show you the world and provide experiences you might not have if you were by yourself, but if you took the romance and his undying love for you out of the equation, would he encourage you to give your all to him?

If it were anyone else, he’d tell them to keep their options open and grab any opportunities given to them. Was he holding you back from that?

“Do you wish you did? Have more relationships before me?” He solemnly asked, brows knitted together while he waited your reaction.

That was a hard question to answer. But you had no regrets in dating Harry and that’s all that mattered. “In some ways, yes. I wish I had more experience in how to navigate even being in a relationship. But mostly no. There’s no one else I’d want to share my firsts with. In a lot of ways, you’re my first everything and I wouldn’t trade that for the world.” You cupped his face, running your thumbs under his cheeks. “Loving you is the happiest I’ve ever been and hopefully now, the people we love will be part of that too.”

Harry’s gaze softened and time seemed to still around you two. Having this conversation in such a vulnerable place like a shower only added to the intimacy of it all. You had a way of knocking the air out of his lungs. It happened with a look or a sigh, your gorgeous smile. And it definitely happened when you said things like this.

“I want to give you the world, y/n. I want to give you everything you want. You tell me and it’s yours.” He murmured, gazing deep in your eyes.

“I just want you.” You whispered, “It’s all I’ve ever wanted, really.”

His eyes flickered between yours as he tipped his head forward to rest his forehead against yours. His wet hair dripped down your cheek, running down your jaw and neck, all the way until it joined the water at your feet. “I just want you too. Always.”

You smiled and pulled his mouth down towards you, pressing your body against his to get impossibly closer to him. He wrapped his arms fully around you, squeezing you against him so every inch of your pretty soft skin melted into his. Your mouths blended into one, lips brushing together in a slow languid kiss.

His tongue slid across your bottom lip and you freely gave him access to your mouth so he could slip in and run his tongue against yours. God, everything about it was so sexy. The steam clouding over you both, how good your wet bodies felt pressed together… the way his cock started to harden against your thigh, unable to spring up in that way you loved due to how close you two were.

“I think…” You gasped, breaking free to run your mouth over his jaw. “You should finish your shower…” You pressed kisses in a path towards his ear, kissing his lobe once you got there before playfully tugging at it between your teeth. Harry whimpered in your ear, reaching down to squeeze your ass in both hands. “...and join me in bed.”

With that, you kissed his neck then unwrapped yourself from his arms, smirking as you slid past him to grab your towel. His hand snapped out suddenly, clasping around your wrist. “Don’t go.”

Harry looked like a starved man. His chest was heaving, cock heavy and hard between his legs and his lips all red and puffy from your kisses. You would’ve fucked him right there if shower sex didn’t scare the hell out of you.

“I’ll get you a towel.” You blew him a little kiss, ignoring the crazed look in his eyes and walking away. Oh did you love a tease.

It wasn’t long before Harry had you pinned to your bed, grinding his hips in slow deliberate strokes. Your entire love making was just that, making love. It was slow and deep, full of so many kisses you could barely breathe. His body was pressed heavy on top of you and he made sure you felt every inch of him that you could. Every inch of his cock, every inch of his heavy muscle and soft sweaty skin.

The window above your bed was still open, a clear view of the moon above your heads. It was a view you two decided was worth putting your pillows down by your feet when you were finished so you could lay the opposite direction and look outside. You had a nice view of the water, though it was particularly dark outside and the moon was so bright it took your entire process.

“I still can’t believe she knows.” Harry murmured, looking up from where his head rested on your chest.

“Who?” You whispered, missing the context of his comment, “My mum?”

“Mmh.” he nodded, looking down to where your hands were joined and resting on your stomach. “It feels… good. I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels like we’re moving onto the next step.”

“I feel the same. I feel better knowing she’s supportive. I had a feeling she would be, but it’s nice knowing I’ve got her on my side when we tell my dad.”

“Mmh.” He hummed in agreement, looking at the string of pearls around your neck. You put them back on after the shower and he found himself mesmerised by the way they twinkled under the moon light. “y’know I told my mum I was seeing someone. After our weekend away.”

“You did?” you frowned slightly.

“I didn’t say anything too personal or anything because we were keeping it quiet.” He assured, sensing the slight panic in your voice. “But I wanted her to know I have someone in my life who makes me happy.”

You smiled, that slight beat of worry completely gone. “What did you tell her about me?”

“Not much. Just your name and that you’re studying. I didn’t want to show her any photos without asking you. She gets a bit excited and I knew if I sent her something she’d tell everyone about it.” He rolled his eyes, but you could tell by his tone that he loved that quality about her. Pausing, he looked from the moon to you. “I think you’d like her.”

“She sounds like my type of gal.” You grinned, “I’m excited to meet her.”

“I think she’d cry if you said that. Happy tears of course.”

You laughed softly, swiping your fingers through his hair. It had dried down after the shower and your activities and became all fluffy and dishevelled. You loved it in its natural state.

“Would you like to meet her?” Harry asked suddenly, his voice soft so only you could hear it. There was no one in your apartment but you yet the moment was so intimate and quiet, he didn’t want to ruin it. “We could facetime?” He looked up at you, expression hopeful for your response.

“Harry I’d love that.”

“Really?” His eyes widened ever so slightly, like he was surprised you’d agree. “You would?”

“Of course I would.” You assured, smiling while dancing your fingers across his jaw. “Set it up. Whenever suits her.”

“Okay.” He grinned, reaching up to kiss you quickly before settling back down on your chest to look out at the moon, “I will.”

It felt so right and natural to take this next step. There were nerves about it, of course, and you couldn’t lie and say you weren’t scared that Anne wouldn’t like you or that you’d make a fool out of yourself. But you knew a decent amount about her and even if you didn’t, you knew you’d love her simply based off the fact you loved Harry. That was enough.

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lordprettyflackotara · 2 days

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if u think i’m pretty || chris sturniolo

SMUT. 18+. Minors DNI. tw: hate fucking. lots of it. bickering while fucking? idk you get the gist. finally got around to writing about chris. can you believe i scrapped like 5 fics? 🥴 yeah me either! also, sequel with matt if yall want it ;)

“Christopher fucking Sturniolo!”

Your words were laced with venom, the staircase rumbling beneath you as you stomped upstairs. Faintly you could hear Matt call out for you, your mind too filled with rage to hear him properly.

Pornographic moans flooded your eardrums as you reached Chris’s room, your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head. Your closed fist rattled his door, the dramatic moans coming to a screeching halt.

“Open the fucking door dickwad!” You screamed. Impatiently you tapped your foot, deciding he was taking too long. You grabbed the door handle, (surprised to find it unlocked), and swung the door open.

It was almost comical watching Chris and a girl you didn’t know scramble to get themselves dressed.

“What the fuck are you doing in here? Get the fuck out! Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?” Chris spat, shoving his gray sweatpants on. For a brief moment you felt bad for the girl, her waterline filling with tears. She was just one of many you had seen this week. You grabbed a shirt you presumed to be hers, handing it to her. You took a deep breath, containing your anger as you looked at her.

“Please get dressed and for the love of God, find someone better to fuck,” You sighed. The blonde was gone in a flash, practically sprinting out of Chris’s room. You crossed your arms, shooting lasers out of your eyes as you glared at the brunette across from you. Oh, only if looks could kill.

“I’m not believing my phone magically teleported into the dishwasher of all places,” You snarled. Your phone had been missing for six hours straight, your iphones location still saying it was at the triplets house. You had dragged Matt and Nick all around their house, searching from the ceiling to the floor. When you had finally accepted defeat, you had opened the dishwasher to grab a bowl to make a snack.

And to your displeasure, your phone was sopping wet, sitting in plain sight on the rack.

“You have zero proof I did that, literally zero,” Chris argued. Your eyes briefly flickered to his exposed chest, the amount of skin throwing you off. You shook your head, showing Chris your ruined phone. “Really? Because I can’t recall the last time you did dishes but you magically did them last night,” You snapped. Chris shrugged nonchalantly, a cocky smirk creeping across his lips.

“What can I say? I figured i’d help out the household,”

That’s it.

You chucked your phone at him, the brunette dodging the attack by seconds. It was ruined away, even the rice method was unable to save your phone. It smacked against the wall, the sound making Chris jump. “Maybe your phone wouldn’t be ruined if you weren’t having very LOUD phone sex with your boyfriend!” Chris yelled. You threw your hands up in the air, completely dumbfounded. “What are you talking about? Why would I ever-” You began arguing, before it clicked.

You weren’t having phone sex with anyone, that was for sure. But you stayed over at the Sturniolo household frequently, to the point where you were there more often than you were home. As much as Chris drove you insane, you couldn’t deny how attractive he was. The concept of the attraction being forbidden, soured by years and years of bickering, did something inside of you.

You could feel heat rushing to your cheeks, even though you didn’t want it to. Chris snickered at your loss of words, shooting you a genuine smile. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” He teased. In a swift motion you dashed across the room, your palm connecting with his cheek. Your tension with Chris had never gone beyond yelling. He had never crawled under your skin so much before, embarrassment seeping over you as you thought about the whole house hearing what he said.

A long pause silenced the room, the sound of the slap echoing through out your ears. Chris took a moment to process what you had just done, before his sharp gaze meant yours. His hand flew to your throat, gripping the sides as he threw you against the nearest wall. The air was knocked out of your lungs, your body in fight or flight mode. He easily towered over you, his sharp blue eyes filled with rage.

“You’re such a fucking whore,” Chris grumbled. He squeezed the sides of your neck harder, a whimper escaping your lips. His grip loosened, his attention fully dedicated to the sound you had made. The brunette tilted his head to the side curiously, as if he hadn’t believed what he just heard. “Did you just whimper?” He questioned. You shook your head no, Chris’s knee spreading your legs apart. Testing the waters, he brought his face closer to yours.

“You know, your little stunt prevented me from finishing earlier. Perhaps you’d like to help me out,” Chris purred, the glint of lust in your eyes telling him everything he needed to know. You rolled your eyes, your heart beginning to race as his body pressed against yours. “If you’re going to kiss me get on with it before I change my mind,” You said plainly. Chris’s grip on your throat tightened, your airway becoming restricted.

“You’ve always been a mouthy one,” He muttered, roughly bringing his lips to yours.

Chris hated how good you tasted, how good you smelled. He hated how your skin always looked so soft, your lips so plump. He despised how confident you were, always charging into everything in your life head first. What Chris actually liked, was that you challenged him. He knew that his infatuation with you wasn’t actually feelings, just raw and untamed lust. But fuck, with your lips against his, it made him want to change his mind.

The two of you clawed off each other’s clothes, discarding the clothing to the floor. Chris’s tongue swiped across your lower lip, before sliding inside. His kisses were rough and sloppy, your body addicted to the electricity he made run down your spine. You pushed him harshly against the bed, his back hitting the soft mattress underneath him.

You straddled him quickly, attempting to take control of the situation. Ever so slowly you grinded your wet cunt against his exposed shaft, a groan escaping his lips. Chris cockily put his hands behind his head, admiring you. “Go ahead, get yourself off just by grinding on me. You can do it pretty girl,” Chris instructed. You felt heat dash across your cheeks at the sound of his praise, your hips moving seemingly on their own.

Curses left your lips as you threw your head back. “Making me get myself off since you can’t do it? Figures,” You managed to say, your movements becoming more desperate. Chris leaned forward on his elbows, watching your cunt slide up and down his shift. “I’d watch your words ma, i’ll overstimulate you until you’re nothing but a cock craving whore,” Chris warned. His warning felt real, the threat in it seeking genuinely true. Even if you didn’t want to believe it.

Chris bit his bottom lip as you shamelessly grinded against him, every little movement providing pleasure to your clit. “You really think i’d fuck as many girls as I do if I couldn’t make them cum? I thought you were supposed to be smart,” Chris said coldly, mockingly tilting his head to the side. Your gaze landed back on the man beneath you, ignoring his cock in between your folds. “Yeah? I thought I was supposed to be overstimulated by now. What happened to that?” You challenged.

He was quick to change positions, your back landing against the mattress before you could think. He roughly spread your thighs apart, shoving two fingers into your cunt. A gasp of surprise was ripped from your throat, his spare hand resuming its place as your personal collar. Chris’s name spilled off of your lips as his fingers curled inside of you, his name becoming a sinful mantra. “What happened? Not so cocky now are we?” Chris taunted, watching you fall apart on his fingers.

The sight of you was enough to make his cock throb, his body craving attention. Chris remained focused, determined to corrupt you. “Open your fucking mouth slut,” Chris ordered. You so without a second thought, flattening your tongue across your bottom lip. He gripped your face harshly, leaning over and spitting into your mouth. “Swallow it,” He growled, watching you intently. You did as you were told, swallowing his saliva. You felt humiliated as it slid down your throat, the feeling euphoric.

“Thats a good girl, now why don’t you cum on my fingers for me? Hmm?” Chris asked. His words of praise made the rope inside of you snap, your orgasm washing over you without warning. Your vision went white, your thighs trembling as Chris removed his fingers from your aching cunt. You watched as he sucked them clean, maintaining eye contact with you as he did so.

Still coming down from your high, you put every last bit of energy into rolling your eyes. “Are you going to fuck me or just stare?” You asked. Chris’s cocky smile fell, replaced with a frown. “Nothings ever good enough for you, is it?” He replied, crawling on top of you. He brushed the tip of his cock up and down your folds teasingly, enjoying hearing you audibly whine for him. “Why’d you destroy my phone?” You asked, your coherent thoughts interrupted by him shoving himself inside of you.

You both moaned in unison, the unholy sounds vibrating off of the walls. “Why’d you decide to have phone sex in my house?” Chris gritted out, sliding himself further into you. He had more girth than you expected, your walls struggling to accommodate his size. “I asked you first dipshit,” You spat, fighting back a groan as he slid in further. Chris could feel your walls spasming around his cock, the sensation enough to make him cum right then and there. But he knew you’d never let him live it down.

“Yeah? Well I asked you second,” Chris replied, bottoming out inside of you. The tip of his shaft brushed against your g spot, the slightest movement of his hips making you whimper. “If you must know I wasn’t having phone sex, dumbass,” You said honestly. Chris pulled his hips back at a teasing rate, entertaining the argument. “Yeah? So what were you doing?” He questioned, doubting what you were saying. His hips bucked back into yours, hitting your g spot purposefully slow. He was drawing his thrust out, enjoying the sight of you squirming beneath him.

“I-I was thinking of you, alright? Now are you going to fuck me or what?” You rambled, embarrassed by your confession. Chris paused for a moment, soaking in your words. He leaned forward, his breath hot against your ear. “Is that so? Well, I destroyed your phone because I got jealous. You belong under me, just like this, taking my cock,” Chris purred, ignoring the embarrassment of his own confession. He pulled back slightly, allowing the two of you to make eye contact.

Out of breath and desperate, both of you panted as you stared into each other’s eyes. “Well, in that case, you better get on with it,” You said weakly. The same cocky smile that you hated plastered across his lips, his hips bucking into yours quickly. Your nails dug into his back as his hips continued to slam into yours, his cock buried inside of your cunt. Chris couldn’t hold back his own groans, your walls milking his cock dry.

With glazed eyes he met your gaze, relishing in the sound of your groans, chanting his name. “Open your mouth for me,” He ordered, his cock abusing your cervix. Chris enjoyed that you didn’t hesitate, obeying him without a second thought. He put two fingers into your mouth, shoving them as far back as he could. “Now fucking suck them slut,” He growled. With each degrading word you squeezed him harder, your body snitching on your hidden desire.

“You look so pretty like this, when you aren’t yapping that mouth of yours,” He huffed. A painful whine came from his lips, your nails purposefully digging deeper into his back. You pathetically bobbed your head up and down on his fingers, concealing your smirk as you heard him in audible pain. Chris slithered his spare hand down to your cunt, drawing fast and sloppy circles around your clit.

“Go on, cum for me. Cum on my cock like the good girl you are for me,” Chris panted. The extra sensation was enough to make you throw your head back, Chris’s fingers still lodged in your mouth. Your warning of your orgasm was muffled, your thighs shaking violently under him. The sight was going to be burned into Chris’s memory forever, the feeling of your cunt spasming around him giving him an undeniable ego boost. He fucked you through your orgasm, becoming preoccupied with chasing his own.

His fingers roughly grabbed your waist, fucking you rougher. “Shit, i’m gonna cum,” He admitted. Chris watched, mesmerized as his cock slid in and out of your cunt. “Where do you want it?” He asked, his hips beginning to stutter. You grabbed him by his throat, dragging him towards you. You put your mouth next to his ear, smirking as you told him, “Inside of me.”

You filthy fuck. For the first time your name fell from Chris’s lips as he came, his warm seed flooding your cunt. In unison you both tried to catch your breath, Chris carefully slipping out of you. The room was silent, besides desperate breathing, a knock came from Chris’s door.

“Yeah?”

“Your uh, doordash is here dude,” Matt said awkwardly. You could hear him place a bag in front of his bedroom door. “Thanks,” Chris replied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible.

“Hey Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“Next time maybe fuck a little quieter, Nicks pretty pissed.”

You exchanged glances with Chris, watching as he shoved on a shirt.

“You heard him, be quiet next time,”

“Next time? There won’t be a next time. Mr.I lasted thirty seconds.”

The sound of you two bickering made Matt roll his eyes, causing him to walk away. He wondered if you both would ever get married, or if you both would hate fuck forever. He shrugged at the idea, heading back downstairs. All Matt knew for sure, was that your moans made him cum the hardest he ever had. And that, was enough for him.

#chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x y/n #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo smut #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut

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maplesyrupsainz · 1 day

Note

hi hi! I really like your imagines <3

Could I request a Charles imagine? Where the reader is the daughter of Toto Wolff and she and Charles have been secretly dating. After Charles wins the WDC, the reader hardlaunches their relationship and everyone is freaking out about it.

Thank you sm!!

pairing: charles leclerc x wolff!reader y/n (she/her)

genre: imagine/smau

warnings: just fluff, kind of short too

prompt: custom you and [driver] are finally ready to hard launch your relationship

a/n: this request inspired something in me LOL hope u like it?! wasnt sure if the req wanted smau or written but u got both instead LOL

my masterlist | my 1k celebration

instagram ->

ynwolff

liked by georgerussell63, charles_leclerc, and 396,184 others

ynwolff merc girl lifeeeee

view all 6,273 comments

user1 helloooo?? the flowers

user2 i bet she gets 100 bouquets a day

user3 i wish i had her life

user4 world's best nepo baby

charles_leclerc would look better in ferrari merch

ynwolff you would say that

mercedesamgf1 back off

charles_leclerc 👀

messages ->

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

at first, the idea of sharing your relationship with the world terrified you. the things people might say, what they'd think. but, you realised, as time progressed, that the idea of not sharing and people not knowing about your relationship seemed even scarier; you were becoming somewhat desperate to let the world know that charles leclerc was your boyfriend.

the only issue was gaining your father's approval. you had convinced yourself it would be easy to obtain, but the harder you thought about it the less you agreed with that sentiment. but, you couldn't hide forever.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

the formula one season had flown by you in a rush of lights; you blinked and it was almost over. it had been a thrilling title fight between max verstappen and charles, and this race was the decider.

you're pretty sure that you didn't take a breath for the whole race, closing your eyes on multiple occasions. no one knew what had you so invested in this race in particular; being the mercedes team principal's daughter, you had come to many a race and tended not to be that interested in the sport. in truth, you did enjoy it but it had been your whole life, you assumed it was normal to become somewhat burnt out.

twitter ->

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

you had never ran quite like it; from the mercedes garage to ferrari. all you knew was that you had to be there for him when he got out of the car. in that moment, you didn't care who saw or what they thought or if they found out the truth about your relationship with charles. all that mattered was him.

and when you saw him, you knew he felt the same as you did. you broke out into a grin as his eyes caught yours and, before you knew it, his lips were on yours and your face in his hands. shutter sounds and flashings of cameras surrounded you, your head spinning, your heart swelling with pride; your boyfriend had won his first drivers' championship.

instagram ->

f1wagupdates

liked by charles_leclerc, susie_wolff, and 183,274 others

f1wagupdates after an olympic-esque dash from the mercedes garage to ferrari, y/n wolff joined charles leclerc in the celebration of winning his first ever wdc! is this the hard launch of a secret relationship? what does toto think? 👀 thoughts?

tagged: charles_leclerc, ynwolff

view all 11,183 comments

user5 CHARLES IS THE ONE WHO GOT HER THE FLOWERS

user6 omg i never would've guessed this

user7 charles AND susie in the likes omg😭😭😭

user8 OMG OBSESSED WITH THESE TWO

user9 the way she ran

user10 literally soo iconic

user11 me when

ynwolff

liked by charles_leclerc, susie_wolff, and 679,926 others

ynwolff sorry dad

tagged: charles_leclerc

view all 14,273 comments

user12 the tshirt HAHAHA

user13 omg she's so real

user14 i still cant believe this

user15 THey R SO CUTE WTF

user16 how did they keep this a secret omg

susie_wolff i love my new son in law!

charles_leclerc 🥰🥰

ynwolff love you 🙆‍♀️

user17 ofc susie loves them tgthr

user18 wonder what toto thinks 💀

user19 the caption

user20 him bringing her breakfast in bed omg

user21 this is all i'll ever talk abt ever again

user22 f1 twt found dead

user23 we lost a real one gang (y/n wolff)

charles_leclerc love my girl

yourusername 🥺 love you crazy amounts

user24 STOP ITTTT

lewishamilton y/n toto said answer the phone

ynwolff my phone is dead rn sorry

user25 💀

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mionemymind · 2 days

Text

Don't Say Something Stupid

Summary: Wanda is unable to commit yet unable to admit she's wrong. (Part Two of Don't Ask Stupid Questions)

Warnings: Pure Angst, No Happy Ending, Maybe Part Three?

A/n: Wanted to hurt y'all more, so here y'all go :) Gif credits go to @thedorkphoenix

Word Count: 662

Masterlist

Part One | Part Two

“Y/n, your new partner is Emma.” Wanda turned her attention from Vision to Steve at the mention of Emma. Trying to hold back her offense, Wanda commented, “Y/n is my partner.”

Wanda looked back at Y/n, but their eyes hadn’t met as Y/n continued to stare at Emma’s file. “We believe their powers work better together, Wanda. Plus, your new assigned partner is Vision as your mind stones should help with increased efficiency and communication.”

Wanda held back the comment on the tip of her tongue. It wasn’t appropriate to say stupid things like, “But she’s always been my partner.”

“You dumped Vision?” Natasha asked surprisingly. Wanda looked away as she could tell Y/n had heard the comment with the way her shoulders tensed.

“He kept wanting more and honeslty…” Wanda sighed, feeling more guilty of the additional person she led on, “…and I couldn’t give him that.”

Natasha nodded in understatement as she squeezed Wanda’s shoulder. “Was it because y’all didn’t have the connection?” Wanda shook her head, feeling lost as to why she even did it in the first place.

“Honestly, I’m not too sure…I rather admit that before saying something stupid.” Wanda tried her best not to look at Y/n’s slumped shoulders as she proceeded to get up from the coach and walk to her room.

And as Natasha continued to talk, Wanda didn’t dare to remember how much Y/n hated feeling stupid.

“Why did you get in my way?” Emma was held back by Y/n as she aggressively questioned Wanda. “You almost got Y/n and I hurt with that stunt you pulled.”

Wanda rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Had it not been for my quick thinking, Y/n would’ve got hurt and you would’ve been swarmed.”

“We had it handled,” Emma bit back. And before Wanda could get another word, Y/n locked eyes with her, and silently pleaded to stop. Seeing Wanda’s stance falter, Y/n pulled Emma back and mumbled, “Let’s not fight anymore. We’ll figure it out a different day so come on.”

While Y/n tugged on Emma’s hand, Wanda mind couldn’t stop thinking of stupid things. The main one being, “Were you even on my side?”

“Are you ignoring me?” Wanda caught Y/n in the hallway, almost close to the spot where they used to secretly make out. The red head could tell that Y/n had wanted to be anywhere else but there with her. Although it stung, Wanda wanted answers.

“Wanda - I - let’s just be cordial.” Feeling even more confused, Wanda backed Y/n into the wall with her arms crossed.

“Cordial? You don’t even speak to me anymore.” Y/n still didn’t look at Wanda’s eyes. The girl was absolutely frustrated at how dense Wanda could be as if she couldn’t read the room.

“Well…” Y/n swallowed her anxiety and pain and finally looked into Wanda’s eyes, “…rules are rules. I broke them so this is me moving on from it.”

Wanda stepped back, feeling slapped and shocked at the confession. “Moving on? Are you seriously unable to continue without having feelings involved?” The red head didn’t know where this fierceness came from. It certainly didn’t explain what she truly meant. But she was always too stubborn to think it through.

Y/n scoffed, not surprised that Wanda could barely understand her place. “You ‘re right, I seriously don’t know why I ever fell for you.” The smug look on Wanda’s face fell. She’s had many people admit their feelings for her but none have ever admitted to regretting them.

Y/n didn’t wait for Wanda’s response and started to walk away but Wanda’s hand stopped her from going. Not wanting to hear anything more, Y/n blurted, “Don’t say anything stupid now, Wanda.”

Snatching her hand out of Wanda’s grip, Y/n declared, “You might get your heart broken if you do.”

Taglist: @halobaby @arelyitsherec8 @blackxwidowsxwife @cristin-rjd @madamevirgo @trikruismybitch @paradiselost916 @mmmmokdok @morbid-gaymer @dailyavengering @itsnottilly @helloalycia @randomshyperson @tomy5girls @daenerys713 @ensorcellme @lezzzbehonesthere @imagine-reblog

@sighsam @olsensnpm @tquick99 @feolok @emilyprentisslittlewhore @mvddison99 @iamapotato @yuhloversxx @mjaudrey @upsidedowndanvers @somewhatgreatexpectations @wandavixen @magicallymaximoff @username23345 @coollemonsaresour @littlewinchester15 @aimezvousbrahms @afuckingshituniverse @am-just-a-cosmic-joke-to-me

@ohmygooddamnbisexualmood @diaryoflife @s7uts @newyork1432 @the-anxious-stargazer @hello-mtf @marvelousbelladonna @ima-gi–na-tion @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @the-camilucha

@itsnottilly @171611 @kaitlynroseb @daisybri7 @drpepperobsessed @bemyvitamin @musicinourlips @marvelousbelladonna @gingerbreadcookieforlife @xastrydx @chasethemoon @naixia00 @lostandsearching @stupidsapphicsstuff @haechanana @the-camilucha @severepeanutartisanhands @owloftheshadows @somewhatgreatexpectations @ywuen @mixed-fandom-mess @loomontoia @ilovemarvelwomen @coxmicbabygirl @cyanide-mustard @mrs-avenger3000 @prentisshoe @andrea-stark @simpforwandanat @abimess @randomshyperson @yourtaletotell @magically-queer-stuff

@imapotatao @iliketozoneout @maximoffbrossupremacy@olsensnpm @psychadelichues @whitelotus00 @taliiiaasteria @tynix @autorasexy @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @hiiraya @reginassweetheart @milkeeteaa

@msmothermaximoff @unicorniusfallapatorius @cakechan123 @anniedanvers @oh-thats-cute @ielliesitcheyereposts @how-to-disappearrr @justyourwritter69 @canvascoloredin (Wanted to tag y'all because I think y'all wanted a part two, but I won't add y'all to future taglists unless you want me to)

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #angst #wanda maximoff #Don't Say Something Stupid #Don't Ask Stupid Questions #friends with benefits trope #mionemymind

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lizardsfromspace · 3 days

Note

What's the worst thing about fandom in the last 20 years, and what's the worst thing about fandom that's always been true of it?

The worst thing about fandom in the last 20 years has been the incentivizing of fandom-as-conflict: not merely as a field in broader culture wars but as the field for endless intra-group battles.

This manifests in many ways: as seven hour videos complaining about The Last Jedi, as Twitter backlash campaigns, but also as stans defending their faves from any and all criticism real or imagined, as the endless boom-and-backlash cycle to any fandom meme or joke you see on Reddit, and as the drive for people to look for evidence other people discussing a thing they like are hysterical illiterate dolts, before anything else.

Or, in other words: a lot of fandoms are full of assholes these days, whose main interaction with fandom is using it as a reason to be an asshole, and to defend being an asshole. The actual “fandom” part of fandom no longer really exists for them. The discourse more or less is their fandom; someone whose main fandom activity is sharing videos about how Steven Universe is a fascist (?) isn’t in the Steven Universe fandom, they’re in the videos about how Steven Universe is a fascist (?) fandom. I mean, the chief fandom for many people is their side in the fandom war. What type of fanfic you write is secondary to what your affiliations are vis-a-vis battles over fanfiction

(One trend I've noticed is people who aren't at the stage where they only talk about what they hate and not what they love, but are at the stage where they can only talk about what they love in relation to what they hate. "I love this movie...and it proves this other movie is bullshit made by a hack". No ability to say just "I love this movie", period, end of sentence. This is how like two-thirds of Film Twitter talks about film, the remainder are all the grindhouse people going "man you've GOT to see Wrong Turn 5")

Another one, that I think is related, is that fandom’s become...more transitory, maybe? There’s Big Fandoms that are inescapable and then everything else feels like it’s here for a weekend and then it’s gone. And we’ve always had fandoms that endure and fandoms that vanish quickly, when the show runs short or turns out to be bad/boring, but we did use to have a lot of enduring if small fandoms for Okay shows most people hadn’t heard of and now you don’t really. Or they burn themselves out fast.

So we’ve reached this stage where fandoms are either so big they have seven hour long discourse videos, or they’re a smattering of fanart over the course of two weeks last August. But that isn’t really the fault of fans so much as modern media release schedules.

A lot of fandom activities of old are just...impossible now, with many shows? The slow build of speculation and fan works and in-jokes and theorizing and analysis simply can’t exist in a world where the premiere comes out the same day as the finale, and you can’t talk about the finale because you have no way of knowing if the person you’re talking to binged it all in one weekend or is still on episode four. That was the kind of thing that sustained the fandom of something that wasn’t a big hit, or even something that was. My fave fandom experience ever was watching the online Lost fandom wildly theorizing for all six years of Lost, and we’d never get “and what if the Smoke Monster is a dinosaur but only the head?” under a Netflix release model. Now at a base level, we either have shows nobody can discuss because nobody’s sure who’s seen or what, or shows where everyone just discusses the finale right away, and where you get One Week of Show and then a massive hiatus, which either kills all momentum or...drives fandom in the direction of hyper-analyzing everything and fighting because, well, what else is there to do? And that plus the outrage cycles of social media plus the fact that “man who yells at Star Wars” is now a viable career choice result in, well. *gestures upwards* All that

(Really, shout out to Cartoon Network for engineering the Steven Universe fandom to Be Like That through their inscrutable strategy of dropping episodes during one random week every five months or whatever)

As for something that's always been with it...cliques and a certain fannish elitism, like, that sees engaging with media in a fandom sense as more creative or analytical or intelligent than your average person. You see it now in the form of, like, people holding up fanfic above published fiction as more representative or authentic (I’ve seen more than one post on here strongly implying queer rep doesn’t exist in mainstream non-fic storytelling???), or going “well, we think about shows, unlike those normies watching sports”. But that was probably way more pronounced a thing in the past, in the 40-50s sci-fi fans were calling non-fans "mundanes" and calling themselves "slans" as an in-group signifier (a reference to a book with superintelligent psychic mutants known as slans). Like at the very least we should be happy no one’s calling non-fans “muggles” anymore. In the evolution from “mundane” to “muggle” to “normie” normie’s probably the least bad one

#asks #fandom #schafpudel #long post

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gallusrostromegalus · 2 days

Note

ok I need elaboration on pretty much all of those bankais that you haven't already talked about but for now i'm probably most curious about ichigo and hanataro? please, a measly few crumbs of context

The short version of Ichigo's sword situation is that he is D'artanigan to Zangetsu's Three displaced-during-the-fuckery-surrounding-his-parent's-meet-cute-slash-manslaughter-thing Musketeers. We got his dad's half-starved family Zanpakuto, The Family Ghost from his Mom's side, and a guy made in an evil instapot that wandered in here on accident and precipitated the whole enfuckening. They are untied in their goal of "Keep Ichigo Alive" but unfortunately they also have a collective IQ of Negative Four.

Reader: Gee Ichigo, why does the author let you have THREE Zanpakuto spirits?

Ichigo: That's nothing! Orihime has SIX!

Ichigo and Orihime's nonsense is connected to how The Almighty operates:)

Meanwhile, short summaries of Unohana and Byakuya's Bankai under the cut:

Minazuki is a sword primarily about the manipulation of flesh- healing injury, making better fighters by pushing the flesh to it's limits- This is a spirit that is distinctly VISCERAL in nature. It has mass. It has a very distinct body.

Unohana:

So it follows that, in order to supply injured patients with blood and drugs and new flesh and everything else, Minazuki is giving up some of her Mass. Consequently, the Stingray form of Minazuki is the SECOND one- she cannot create her elixirs and make new flesh from nothing. First she must FEED.

Which is why Minazuki's liquid format is acidic blood that devours anything organic. It's why Kenpachi!Unohana's bloodthirst was so bloodthirsty: she was literally starving for biomass to complete her sword's two forms and finally put her Soul in Balance.

Senbonzakura has been with the Kuchiki family for generations, passed from one head of the clan to the next in a sacred ritual that allows the Zanpakuto to bond to its new weilders and grant them the power accumulated with generations.

In the fic, Ukitake is one of a handful of people old enough to remember "Yachiru" Unohana, and until Zaraki's arrival, probably the closest to understanding her. That Unohana and Retsu both understand the horrors of the flesh he lives with every day more intimately than anyone else in his life, and it's the basis of an almost sacred friendship between them. He knows perfectly well where the emergency transfusions and drugs she creates come from, and they have a standing agreement that if he predeceases her, she is to feed his body to Minazuki so he can pay forward at least some of the debt given to him.

He will not be the first of Unohana's friends that have been willingly devoured by her sword.

Byakuya:

But for course, everything has it's cost.

Byakuya was not the head of the Kuchiki clan when his father Sojun died prematurely and make Byakuya the orphan heir apparent as an adolescent. He was not the head when he met Hisana in a grove of cherry trees in the middle of harvest, and fell in love with her He was not the head when he had a terrible row with his grandfather Ginrei and the rest of the clan elders about his elopement. He was not the head five years later, when on a cold spring morning before the plum trees had blossomed, Hisana died of a miscarriage.

One week later, when the plum trees bloomed and the cherry trees had budded, Byakuya came to his grandfather, head bowed and heart broken, and agreed to take up the mantle of Clan Head. His soul had already been torn in half, what was another half?

Everything has it's cost, and the price of Senbonzakura's power is the sacrifice of the weilder's own original Zanpakuto spirit, and by transference, the imminent death of the previous head.

He had known this day was coming, ever since his own native Zanpakuto spirit failed to awaken at the academy. At the time, he'd thought it a mercy that the poor thing wouldn't awaken and be aware of being devoured. But now, as he held the tiny, warm body of the spirit out to Senbonzakura, he could only think of the child he never got to hold.

...with Senbonzakura, at least, she'd be at rest with something beautiful that loved her.

Because Senbonzakura loves it's family, and in particular it adores Byakuya. It has, ever since Byakuya fearlessly climbed it's branches as a small boy, since he partook of the sword's fruits as a young man, and now, when Byakuya offered the most precious parts of himself to the sword with a sense of peace and profound trust. And Senbonzakura repays that trust in kind.

The sword's shikai release is the same, or at least similar for all it's wielders, but long-term friends of the family note that that is a LOT MORE blades than the sword ever summoned for Ginrei or any other head.

The Bankai is different every time. Senbonzakura is ready to give Byakuya whatever Bankai he wants immediately, but it's not until after he adopts Rukia and sees her fooling around in the family orchards when she thinks he isn't watching that he realizes the shape it should be.

It's name is "Senbonzakura: Sakura no Kaju-en" and it is beautiful and terrible.

Sakura no Kaju-en requires only that Byakuya pierce the flesh of his enemy or the terrain around him with one or more of his petal-blades. Once in the ground or embedded in flesh, the blade is transformed into a seed and an entire magical cherry tree grows from it, converting the Reishi and spiritual energy around it into its own mass. Since Byakuya is effectively wielding somewhere around 10,000 petal blades in his shikai alone, he can summon up to 10,000 devouring cherry trees, which will radically alter the landscape of battle and blossom into millions and millions of new petal-blades.

That is, unless his foe is unfortunate enough to have the blades penetrate their flesh. Then the trees will devour them as they grow. Even a truly massive opponent like Yammy can be mulched in minutes.

The trees initially blossom almost white, but as his enemies are felled and Senbonzakura drinks, the blooms grow pinker and then redder until they transform into deep crimson fruits.

It's a brutal Bankai, but a beautiful one. When Byakuya looks out upon the blooming landscape and tastes the sweet fruits of his efforts, it brings him peace to know the small, sleeping spirit he had to sacrifice is playing somewhere within, they way he saw Rukia playing in the family orchards that day.

#AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #bleach #bleach fanfic #ichigo kurosaki #retsu unohana #yachiru unohana #byakuya kuchiki #minazuki #zangetsu #senbonzakura

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ghouljams · 2 days

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The only foil Gaz has in his little scheme of fucking his pretty clients? Rich business man Price and his pretty wife. Prices’ wife? The most oblivious bimbo he’d ever met. He wants to nail her *so* bad but, she doesn’t pick up on his ‘double meanings’ or anything! She just paid his estimate outright, (full price! The jacked up price!!! wtf?)

“I’m sorry, I’m not good at manual labor!!! I’d probably knock down the building, lol!” And prances off. She dresses like a tease, tiny skirts, tight shirts, heels, nice hair, pretty makeup.

She’s got daddy Price paying for her and Price finds deep, endless amusement in Gaz going crazy trying to get her to understand what type of ‘manual labor’ he’s talking about. Every time Gaz tries to flat out tell her he wants to f- Price walks by, blue balling Gaz because he can’t proposition his clients wife right in front of him!!! Gaz gets blue balled *again.*

And Price keeps hiring him too! He has the money, so why not? Gaz really amuses him, it turns him on to have someone chasing after his pretty wife *so* bad, and imagine how great it will be when Price finally lets Gaz have her?

Maybe they can have Gaz over for just sex without the fake excuse of ‘building’ or ‘remodeling’

(Bonus: if Price overhears Gaz’s double entendres, he comes in bends over the marble counter like ‘oooooh, this is how I get the discount, I can do that’ because he thinks Blue collar Gaz is hot too, why does his wife get to be the only one nailed over their new counter? And his wife is like ‘oh- oooooh! OOOOOOH!’ Sparkles in her eyes ‘now’ she get’s it!!! Well why didn’t he just *say* so!!! And drops to her knees. Yeah, They all take the new marble counter for a spin.)

The problem... the problem...

The problem is I want Gaz to fuck that old man over the marble counter now. Gaz plays for both teams, if he can't get the bimbo wife, he'll take the hot older husband. Price wants to bend over the counter, Gaz'll press his hand firm between Price's shoulders and his hips firm against his ass. A little surprising for Price, he was joking(sort of) because that's the fun of it. His wife isn't getting it but he is, and it should be a good haha laugh it off moment of "I know what you've been doing." But Gaz presses his weight down against Price and tells him he'll do just as well.

"Can probably take it better than the bird, isn't that right sir?" He murmurs, his cock already starting to stiffen against Price.

The ideal end to this scenario is Gaz fucking Price over that shiny new counter, Price's eyes rolling back as he grunts out moans and Gaz bites his shoulder, pretty wife sat on her knees behind Gaz licking his balls and occasionally dipping back to eat his ass. Both of them really should be thanking him for doing so much work on their house, and for teasing him so long. He wants Price white knuckling the counter, shooting his load all over his wife's tits as she tongues Gaz's ass. He'll fill Price and then move on to the bird.

"When's the last time someone took care of you properly," Gaz asks Price, leaning back to spread Price's cheeks apart, watching his cock getting swallowed greedily with each thrust. Price mumbles out some answer, well before he was married, and sorely missed. Gaz hums with a smile, "Might have to start staying late then, make sure you're satisfied with my services."

Don't think Gaz isn't eager to get the wife over the counter too. Stripping the condom off his thick cock when he's done with Price and lifting the giggly wife off her knees to fuck her raw. Normally he's safer about this sort of thing, never know where a housewife has been, but he doubts she's smart enough to be sleeping around. So he bounces her on his cock until she's shaking and clinging to him, stifling moans by biting his shoulder. He'll leave her dripping come so Price can eat it out of her.

"You know," Gaz tells them, gathering his things, "You really could do with a couple French doors out to the garden."

"When can you start?" Price asks.

"How's tomorrow work?" Gaz grins.

#kyle gaz garrick #gaz modern warfare #gaz cod #gaz call of duty #gaz garrick #captain price mw2 #captain john price #captain price #gaz x price #cod x reader #x reader #f!reader #blue collar au #i dont know what happened there #I want that old man moaning

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scribblesofagoonerr · 2 days

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Never Felt A Love Like This Before

The second part of the small bump mini fic series is out now!

pairings: leah williamson x reader

summary: its' been a long few exhausting months but finally being able to meet your baby girl was worth it in the end.

"Let me take that from you, love," Your wife insisted, rushing to take the heavy load off your hands.

"I'm fine, Le," You couldn't help but roll your eyes playfully, you were of course now well accustomed to your wifes' overprotective nature by now. "I'm not made of glass, you know," you joked with her.

The final trimsester of your pregnancy was a time of both excitement and apprehension for both you and your wife, more so you also to deal with your wifes' need to be stubbornly overprotective of you even attempting to lift anything rometely heavy around the house.

You knew her concern was only coming from a good place though, her overprotective nature was down to the fact it had been a long nine months and she didn't wasn't about to let anything jepordizing the health of your unborn daughter or yourself.

You realized a few months it was easier to just suck it up and agree with your wifes' silly overprectiveness, it weren't that bad to deal with.

"It won't be long until we meet you, baby Gooner," Leah bent down and pressed a gentle kiss on your very pregnant belly before she peered up to look at you with loving eyes.

You both made the joint decision to find out the gender of your baby, but it was only both of your families, a few friends and of course your wife's team mates that new that you would be having a baby girl.

Leah especially was thrilled with the idea of having a daughter to hopefully follow in her footsteps, no matter how much you've tried to tell her that they might not even like football.

Your wife weren't having any of it.

"What if she wanted to be a Spurs fan instead?" You asked with the purpose of trying to wind your wife up.

Leahs' sweet smile is quick to turn into a menacing scowl, "Over my dead body will my daughter support Tottenham," she scoffed, like words were venemous.

You couldn't help but let out a loud laugh in amusement for your wifes' sudden change of mood, the discussion of different footballs team was always a sure subject with Leah if any team other than Arsenal was mentioned.

"Listen here, baby Gooner," Leah spoke directly to your belly, which made you giggle in amusement. "You have Arsenal running through your blood, your a Gooner through and through," she continued to speak to your unborn daughter, which always got the same reaction that you always got, a handful of kicks' as soon as your baby heard Leahs' voice.

"I think she definitely took notice of your words," You joked with your wife playfully, smiling at the connection that your wife and daughter already had. "The way she is kicking, I wouldn't be surprised if she does decide to become a footballer though," You commented.

"That's my girl," Leah grinned and placed a gentle kiss on your exposed stomach, which yet again earned another few excitedable kicks from your baby girl inside of you. "See? Baby Gooner, through and through," She added.

At first the nickname baby Gooner had been a silly nod to Leahs' persuasion for your unborn daughter to become an Arsenal fan just like her Mummy, however, as soon as the rest of your wifes' team mates heard it, they were all quick to cotton on calling the baby that name and it had just stuck ever since then.

You'd both decided to keep the name for a secret now, something for just you and your wife to only share.

You were both very excited for the day that you would finally be able to meet your baby girl, but of course you savoured all of the memories of your favourite times where your wife would place her hands on your stomach, being able to feel the tiny kicks and movement from your baby girl, a constant reminder of the precious life that was growing inside of you.

The nine months hadn't exactly been the easiest roller coaster, full of hormonal mood swings, horrific morning sickness and pregnancy cravings that had your wife up and out at all hours of the night, but you both know it'll be worth it the minute that you meet your baby girl.

It's the middle of the night when you woke up and feel a dull ache, spreading through your body like a silent alarm. Shifting in bed with soft groan, the discomfort was growing stronger with eaching passing moment.

You only knew it meant one thing, it was time.

"Le," You whispered, shaking your wife awake beside you from her light slumber. "I think... I think its' time, it's happening," you stuttered out.

Leahs' eyes snapped open, panic flooding her senses as she was quick to bolt upright in bed, "What?!" she exclaimed, her heart was pounding in her chest. "Now?!"

"No, next week. Yes now," You couldn't help but sarcastically comment, letting out a hiss as the dull pain started to become a little more intense than before. "It's time, Le," you repeated.

You watched as your wifes' began to race into action and shoot up from the bed, her eyes darting around in a sudden panic, "O... Okay, just stay calm. It's gonna be fine, just... just breathe, love," she told you, despite having everything prepared and ready for this very moment, the reality of it was hitting your wife like a tidal wave right now.

"Le," You sat in the bed and looked at your wife amusedly, one hand was resting on your very swollen pregnant belly and the other was videoing your wifes' initial panic, you wanted video proof of this to look back on and laugh when it was needed, "I'm fine here, alright? My contractions are still quite far apart, so we don't even need to leave to go to the hospital yet, so just stay calm, okay?" you told your wife, trying to ease her own panicking.

"Right, of course, you... you're right," Leah ran her hand over her hair before she settled back down on the bed, "So, do we just wait until its' time then?" she questioned.

"Yes, we just wait until then. Why don't you stick the kettle on and make us both a hot drink?" You suggested, hoping that while your was downstairs that her anxiety would ease up more.

In the hushed intensity of the delivery room, Leah stood by your side with your fingers interwined in hers in a tight grip as the final moments of your labour drew near, "I... I can't, I can't do this!" You cried, panting loudly as the beads of sweat glistened your brow and your breath had become short as you pushed through each contraction.

"Almost there, love," Leah murmered, your wifes' voice a soothing balm in the chaos of the moment, "You're doing amazing. I'm so proud of you,"

"That's it, Y/N. That's it, I can almost see the head," The nurses' voice spoke aloud as she could see the head of your daughter from where she stood, "That's it, almost, Y/N. I just need one final push," she instruced.

Leah let out a gasp and tears welled up in her eyes as she set her eyes on your daughter, "She's almost here, love," she whispered in awe.

"Just one final push, Y/N," The midwife in the room repeated, "You're doing great, just one more push and your daughter will be here," she told you.

With all of the energy you could muster, you pushed one final time and it felt like the room seemed to hold its' breath, the anticipation was thick in the air until it was broken by the ear-piercing wail of your newborn daughter that sounded like a sweet melody to you and your wife right now.

"Congratulations, Mommies," The nurse smiled widely, cradling your newborn daughter in her arms before she placed her down gently in your own, "You have a precious baby girl," she added.

You had longed for this moment that you felt your daughter nestled against your bare skin, you let out tears of joy as you felt that instant connection between you both, "Hi, baby girl. I'm so glad you're here now," You whispered quietly, your daughter looking back at you with big wide eyes.

Tears continued to well up in Leah's eyes as she watched the scene unfold before her, her heart swelled with pride and love for you, who had just brought your new baby girl into the world.

"I love you so much," Leah murmered in awe, leaning down beside you as she pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead, "You did it, love. She's here and she's perfect," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion.

"She really is perfect," You whispered back, peering up to your wife with a tired smile, but no matter how exhausted you felt, nothing would change how happy you felt in this moment, there was a sense of overwhelming amount of love and wonder for the little girl that you currently had cradled in your arms.

"I hate to interrupt the moment," The nurse smiled warmly at you both, her eyes crinkling with kindness as she looked between you and then your wife, "Would you like to cut the unbilicol cord, Mum?" she asked your wife, her tone gentle and inviting.

Leahs' own heart fluttered with a mix of emotion and nervousness at the question, glancing at you to seek a sense of reassurement in your eyes that it would be okay, "Is that okay?" she checked with you to make sure it was alright.

You squeezed your wife's hand to reassure it was okay, "You've got this, Mummy," You whispered, noting the name you'd both decided on for each other, Leah would be Mummy and you would be Mumma.

Your wife grinned and turned back to look at the nurse, "Yes, I'd love too," she agreed, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves.

With a careful guiding hand from the nurse, your wife gently took the scissors and prepared to make the first cut as her fingers trembled with nerves.

As the blade sliced through the cord, a rush of emotion washing over you as you watched the intimate moment between your wife and newborn daughter, watching as the nurse carefully finished the proccess, your heart swelled with love for the tiny life that you had both brought into the world together.

"I'm so proud of you," You told your wife with an exhausted smile, peering down to look at your little girl resting on your chest before you looked at your wife, "Do you want to hold her?" You whispered the question, almost afraid to disturb the sleeping newborn on your chest.

"I'd love too," Leah nodded in agreement and with the nurse's help, she delicately placed your little baby girl in your wifes' arms.

Watching the moment made your heart swell even more, the first time you saw your wife holding your newborn daughter for the first time would be a memory that would be etched in your memory forever.

"Hi there, I'm your mummy and I'm so happy to meet you, baby Gooner," Your wife cradled your baby girl in her arms as she smiled down at her in awe, "We waited a whole 9 months to meet you but every single minute was worth it now that you're here, and I love you so so much already," she whispered, not taking her eyes of your newborn daughter.

Gently moving to take a seat beside you on your hospital bed, Leah sat with the baby nestled in her arm with her other free arm was wrapped around you, "I'm so in love with you, I love you both so much," she whispered quietly, the two of you just staring lovingly at the tiny bundle wrapped up in a blanket.

Your wife was right in her words, you had waited a long nine months to meet your little girl, but damn it was worth every minute now that she was here in your arms and you were finally a family of three.

leahwilliamsonn and y/nwilliamson posted

Liked by liawaelti, lottewubbenmoy & 98,203 others

leahwilliamsonn: my wife and i would like to introduce the newest baby gooner to the world, remi delilah williamson 👣❤️

my heart is so full of love for our baby girl and my amazing wife right now, I love you both so much! ❤️

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #arsenal x reader #woso imagine #woso #woso one shot #arsenal women x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #leah williamson x reader #scribblesof #scribblesofagoonerr

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ginnsbaker · 3 days

Text

fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (9/?)

Part Summary: You get more than you bargained for on Halloween

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader, temporary Leigh x Danny | Word count for this part: 7.300+ | Warnings: Light angst, R and Leigh being obtuse | Author's Note: Longest chapter so far (and about 90% of it is just Leigh and R)! I have officially written another novel length fic with this update. From a two-shot to this? Wouldn't be possible without everyone's support. Thank you, everyone. I have a little treat for you at the end.

Despite Leigh's promise to bring Logan in for his vaccinations, she missed the appointment again for the second time. Understanding that life gets hectic, you decide that rather than seeing Logan miss another round of critical vaccinations, you'll take matters into your own hands and arrange a home visit at the Shaw’s.

On the day of the visit, you discover that Logan has gained 2.5 pounds in just two weeks. The drastic weight gain might indicate that he’s not a purebred Shih Tzu as you originally thought when you got him, or Leigh has been feeding him more than the recommended serving size. You can feel Logan’s solid back as you hold him in place while you administer the vaccine on his scruff. Leigh appears nervous, and if you weren’t determined to scold her after completing Logan’s immunizations, you might have found it adorable.

“Just a quick pinch, buddy,” you murmur soothingly to the anxious pup. Logan yelps as the needle pierces his skin, but within two seconds, it’s over. You rub his neck to distract him from the sting of the medicine, then return to your insulated bag to dispose of the syringe. Leigh watches closely as you finish with Logan, a slight frown creasing her forehead. You notice she's dressed in what you figure is her nightwear—a thin olive camisole and matching capri pants. It seems too dressed down for receiving a guest.

“Why are these vaccines so important, anyway?” she asks lightly, but you don’t miss her apprehension behind it. “I mean, he'll mostly be indoors…”

The frustration from her missing two appointments sneaks into your voice as you say, “Vaccines can mean the difference between life and death for puppies. Take the parvovirus—it's lethal and spreads quickly.”

Leigh nods, taking in the weight of your words. You notice her swallow, perhaps realizing the graveness of her oversight. “I didn't realize it was that serious,” she murmurs.

You catch yourself, realizing you might be coming across as harsher than necessary. “It's alright, Leigh. That's exactly why I came here,” you say mildly. You've dealt with many uneducated dog owners before, and Leigh is no different. You know you need to be patient with her, just as you have been with others, and you remind yourself not to let your personal feelings interfere with your professional opinions.

Logan wiggles happily at your feet, seemingly forgiving you for the shot already. “And another thing,” you add, glancing down at Logan’s round belly, “he’s put on quite a bit of weight. We need to watch his diet. Too much food isn’t good for him either.”

Leigh looks slightly embarrassed. “I guess I've been spoiling him with extra treats,” she admits. “I'll be more careful with that.”

“It’s okay. I know how hard it is to say ‘no’ to that face,” you say, smiling at Logan while you rub his chin. “Just keep to the recommended portions, and he’ll be in good shape.”

As you gather your things to leave, you remember Logan's vaccine card. After filling out the final details, you head towards the kitchen where Leigh has silently drifted off. She's busying herself with breakfast on the stove when you approach.

“Here's Logan's vaccine card,” you say, handing it to her. “He needs another dose in two weeks, so don't forget to schedule that in.”

“Thank you,” Leigh says, accepting the card with a nod. “I won't forget this time.”

The aroma of coffee wafts through the room, tickling your nose.

“I've just made some coffee. Would you like to stay for breakfast?” Leigh asks.

You hesitate, considering the offer, but you’re inclined to refuse, still irked by her missing the previous appointments. “I’m good, thanks,” you say, a bit too briskly. Leigh's face falls slightly, a look of disappointment flashing across her eyes before she gives you a small, resigned smile and turns back to the stove.

You start to leave but something stops you—the frustration from Leigh’s no-shows running over.

“Leigh, can I ask why you didn’t make it to the clinic? And not even a text,” you find yourself saying as you spin on your heels to face her. “It’s not just unprofessional—it hurts more coming from a friend.”

“If you have a problem with me, it’s perfectly okay to transfer Logan to another clinic as long as you’ll follow through with his appointments,” you suggest, noting her standing there, mouth agape, her vivid green eyes sharply focused. Getting that off your chest didn't bring the relief you expected. Instead, you're left with a sinking feeling of regret. Looking back on your words, you realize how petty they must have sounded.

Leigh on the other hand, is momentarily stunned by your outburst, her eyes wide as she absorbs your words. Then, something shifts in her expression, a flicker of intrigue crossing her features before she clears her throat and apologizes.

“I'm really sorry,” she says sincerely, turning off the stove and setting down her spatula. “I didn't handle things well, and you were right to call me out on it.” Leigh takes a careful step closer, causing you to instinctively step back until your lower back meets the edge of the dining table. You weren't expecting Leigh to be so understanding, leaving you unsure of how to react. Should you apologize for getting upset?

Fortunately, Leigh doesn't leave you to dwell on your thoughts for long. She continues, “Why don't you stay for breakfast? I can whip up something nice, and we can catch up like we used to. Please, let me make it up to you.”

Feeling like an absolute fool and still grappling with the aftertaste of your flare-up, you find yourself in a quandary. Rejecting her offer would just drag out this uncomfortable moment even longer, which is the last thing you want. Besides, your stomach is growling—you haven’t eaten anything since you got here, and the smell of brewing coffee is too good to ignore.

“Alright,” you relent, glancing down at your feet. “That sounds good.”

Leigh looks relieved. “Perfect, just give me a minute,” she says, clapping her hands together as she turns back to her cooking.

You linger awkwardly, still standing. “Need a hand with anything?” you ask.

“Just sit there, be all pretty, and relax.”

That little compliment makes your cheeks burn even hotter. If you weren’t so distracted by your hunger and embarrassment, you'd swear it’s almost as if she’s flirting with you.

Wait.

Is she?

Then, as if the universe can hear you thinking, Leigh’s phone buzzes loudly on the kitchen counter. She snatches it up, and even though you can’t see her face, you can tell she’s happy he called as she chirps, “Hey, Danny.”

Right. Danny Greer. That name shatters your brief daydream. Suzie was right—you're too close, and it's clouding your judgment. Leigh laughs into the phone, and you look away just in time for her to turn slightly and steal a glance at you.

Alright, you think, that's it. After this breakfast, it's time to really put some space between you and Leigh. You need to clear your head and let her have her space too. It's the best move, for the sake of your friendship and your sanity.

As Leigh busies herself in the kitchen, you find yourself aimlessly scrolling through your phone, not really focusing on anything. The sound of her laughter while she talks to Danny floats over to you, making you regret agreeing to stay for breakfast and blame your inability to say no to her.

She ends the call with a lingering smile and soon approaches with two plates in hand. Each has a stack of pancakes and two sunny-side-up eggs with the edges just crisped up how you like them. The fact that Leigh remembered leaves you speechless. It’s a small detail, but it makes you guilty for brooding and feeling all jealous.

“I hope you still like your eggs this way,” Leigh says as she sets the table.

“Thank you,” you say warmly as Leigh pours coffee for both of you. Recalling her preference, you offer to add two sugars to her cup, and she rewards you with a small, appreciative smile. She then grabs the syrup from the fridge, along with two sets of utensils, and places them on the table.

You take a bite of the fluffy pancakes, perfectly cooked and deliciously light. “These are amazing, Leigh,” you say enthusiastically.

Leigh beams, standing a bit taller with pride instead of dismissing the praise. “I'm glad you think so! I've been working on perfecting the recipe.”

“Seriously, Leigh, you could sell these.”

She laughs. “Keep the compliments coming and I might just make you breakfast more often.”

You almost choke at her words. You really should take a little break from Leigh until you can get this crush under control. Even simple remarks are starting to feel like a tightrope walk.

Leigh tilts her head slightly, a coy look crossing her face. “So…” she drawls, leaving the word hanging as she waits for you to look up from your plate.

You stop chewing once you sense her heavy gaze on you. “Hmm?”

Leaning in slightly, she lowers her voice as though about to share a secret. “This Sara... is she a friend of yours? Someone new around here?”

The piece of pancake suddenly feels like a mouthful of sawdust as you process her question. You grab your coffee and take a quick gulp to help wash it down. “I, uh, met her on a dating app, actually,” you say.

Leigh's eyebrow arches. “Oh?”

There’s a short, tense period where you repeatedly stab your pancake and tap your foot rapidly against the leg of the stool you’re sitting on, while Leigh twirls her hair around her finger, lost in thought.

“She’s gorgeous,” Leigh finally says. “I didn’t know you were into women.” That is, unless you and the person from her advice column are one and the same. She's chosen to approach what she's dubbed the “EspressoEyes conundrum” as a Schrödinger’s cat scenario, where you simultaneously do and do not have feelings for Leigh.

You fiddle with your coffee mug. “Yeah, I think I've mentioned that before,” you say, though your memory suddenly feels unreliable.

Leigh shakes her head, certain. “No, you definitely haven't told me that.”

“Well, yes, I'm into women, but obviously I like men too,” you say, deciding it's perhaps better to just be clear.

“We're the same then,” she says casually, as if discussing something as mundane as their taste in movies.

“Really?” You’re hoping Leigh is buying the faux surprise on your face, even though Jules had let slip about Leigh's college days.

“Yeah,” Leigh nods. “I had a serious relationship with a woman back in college. It's not something I talk about much, but it's part of who I am.”

“I see.”

Leigh takes a slow sip of her coffee, eyeing you over the rim of her mug with a slight tilt of her head.

“So, do you like her? Sara, I mean,” she asks.

“Yeah, she’s great. We get along really well.”

Leigh sets her coffee cup down with a small clink, not missing a beat. “Have you guys...you know, slept together?” she asks, more bluntly than before.

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, feeling a bit like you’re under interrogation. “Um…no, we haven’t.”

A quick glint flashes in her eyes before it vanishes. Her shoulders relax as she leans back in her chair. “Sorry, that was out of line,” she mumbles with a curt, dismissive laugh. “I guess I'm just being nosy.”

The way she said it doesn't truly suggest she's sorry for crossing some lines, but you’re not focusing on that. Rather, you feel like you’ve earned the right to ask Leigh some questions about her own personal affairs.

“And you?” you start, trying to sound flippant. “How are things with you and Danny?”

Leigh matches your nonchalance as she stands up to gather the empty plates from the table. There's a smooth, practiced ease in the way she begins cleaning up, letting you know she's not about to let your questions corner her.

“Things are... going,” she replies, keeping it vague. “Danny's great. We're figuring things out as we go.”

“Where'd you meet him?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

“He's Matt's brother,” Leigh says flatly, without flinching. You have to give it to her for being so straightforward about it. Not that you’re judging Leigh or anything—it’s just that moving from in-laws to lovers is quite an unconventional transition.

It’s also possible that you’re just bitter.

“Did you always find him attractive?” you ask, almost spitefully, curiosity getting the better of you. Leigh freezes, her back going rigid at your callous words. There's a moment of visible tension, but then she lets out a slow breath and lets it slide. She had been quite direct in probing about your dating life, so perhaps this levels the playing field.

“No, it wasn’t like that,” Leigh says slowly. “I—”

“Oh hey, Y/N, it's been a while!”

Neither of you heard the front door open. Jules bursts in, holding Logan who's wagging his tail wildly at the sight of familiar faces, both oblivious to the cutting atmosphere they've just entered.

“Oh hey, Y/N, it's been a while!” Jules exclaims. She looks between you and Leigh. “Am I interrupting something?” she asks, noticing the residual stiffness in the air.

“Y/N was just leaving,” Leigh says.

You don’t need to be told twice. “Hey, Jules,” you say with a short wave. “I just came to give Logan his shots.”

Jules frowns slightly as you start to leave so soon after her arrival. You reach over to give Logan a quick pat on the head. Turning to Leigh, you manage a tight smile and say, “Thanks for the breakfast.”

As soon as you're out the door, Jules turns to Leigh with a worried look. “What was all that about?” she asks softly.

Leigh shrugs, her expression inscrutable. “I don’t know what you mean,” she replies evenly, turning away to busy herself with the dishes.

You get into your car but instead of starting it, you just sit there motionless. Your hands rest aimlessly on the wheel as you lose yourself in thought.

Here’s the truth about Sara:

She's exactly your type on paper—blonde, blue-eyed, stunning. But despite all that, she hadn't managed to hold your attention. Her beauty just couldn't pull your mind away from Leigh, from her vivid green eyes that always seemed to see right through you.

The silence in the car allows you to realize what an odd question you had thrown at Leigh about Danny. You realize just how inappropriate it might have seemed, how it must have sounded coming from a place of jealousy rather than concern.

Why did you even ask that? The answer is uncomfortably clear: you can't be just friends with Leigh. Not anymore. You’ve been lying to yourself, hoping things would just sort themselves out. But they won’t. Not like this. You can’t keep doing this to yourself—or to her.

Because right now, this friendship, if you can even call it that, is doing more harm than good.

“It’s not working.”

Suzie looks up from her clipboard, startled. Her red locks tumble across her face as she tilts her head, brushing them back with a quick flick of her hand.

“Seeing other people, you mean?” she asks, already guessing the root of your distress.

You run a hand through your hair, messing up your low ponytail. Frustrated, you decide to let your hair loose from the tie altogether.

“I thought if I met someone like Sara—someone who’s practically a checklist of everything I find attractive—it would make things easier. But it’s just... not.” You massage your temples, as if trying to rub away the spell Leigh seems to have cast on you. “She's perfect, but she's not Leigh. And no matter how hard I try, I can't stop thinking about Leigh.”

“You're right about one thing though,” Suzie says, getting back to her task.

“Which is…?”

“That Sara’s perfect,” she chuckles, and you can't help but roll your eyes. “Look, you can’t force these feelings. If your heart’s not in it, it’s not in it.”

“So…Should I keep seeing her? Maybe she’ll grow on me or something.”

Suzie stops and gives you a serious look. “Maybe. But love shouldn't feel like an obligation, you know? It’s not fair to either of you if you’re just waiting to see if you’ll catch feelings.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” you acknowledge with a sigh. “She’s everything I thought I wanted. And I think she likes me.”

“Sometimes what we think we want isn’t what we really need,” Suzie answers. “Why not take a break? Give yourself some space to think. It might help you figure out what really works—whether it’s Sara, someone else, or just time to yourself.”

“You think so?”

Suzie gives a small shrug. “Look, I don’t have all the answers.”

Hearing that makes you feel a tad embarrassed. You’ve been leaning on her for advice a lot lately, and it’s probably awkward for her, especially since you're her boss. Maybe she’s just being nice because she has to be.

“Thanks, Sue,” you say, standing up from your chair to head back to your office. “I appreciate you listening to all this.”

She smiles back, and you can tell she’s relieved to move on from the subject. Suzie might not have all the answers, but maybe there’s another place you can find them.

That night, in your bedroom, you settle in front of your laptop, the cursor blinking expectantly on the blank submission form of the advice column. You type in your handle—EspressoEyes—a moniker you’d used before, thinking it would increase your chances of being noticed again. Quickly, you type out your query and hit send, watching as it disappears into the digital ether. No sooner have you shut your laptop than your phone rings. It’s your mom.

“Hey, Mom,” you answer, shifting to sit against your headboard.

“Hi, sweetheart! Are you coming home for Thanksgiving? We’re starting to plan the menu and would love to have you,” she says. Your chest tightens. Just hearing her voice makes you feel like you’re already home. You pretend to think for a second, considering your rather empty social calendar.

“Yeah, I’ll come home,” you decide, realizing it might be nice to get away for a bit.

“Oh good! It’s been too long. We’ll make sure to have all your favorites,” she chatters on, already listing the dishes that would normally make you salivate. But these days, you just don’t have the appetite for food.

“Sounds great, Mom. Really looking forward to it.”

You hang up with a promise to send your flight details soon. Setting your phone down, you feel a slight relief at the thought of escaping to a place where no one knows about the mess you’re in.

Leigh can’t sleep. She lies wide awake, staring at the ceiling while Danny's snores fill the room. The weight of his arm draped over her stomach feels stifling, trapping her in place. She can’t breathe. Carefully, so as not to wake him, she slips out from under his arm and tiptoes out of the bedroom. In the hallway, she grabs one of his shirts hanging over a chair and slips it on. It smells like sandalwood and something uniquely him—comforting yet somehow off-putting at the same time.

She pads into the kitchen to boil some water, the soft click of the stove burner igniting a comforting sound in the otherwise quiet apartment. With the kettle on, she wanders into the living room, pulling Danny's shirt closer around her. Even with the windows closed, the crisp chill of autumn seeps in.

Sitting on the couch, Leigh pulls her knees to her chest. The post-sex cocktail of oxytocin and vasopressin usually knocks her out, but tonight they fail her. Instead, her mind is filled with doubts and the urge to flee from any kind of closeness.

She remembers the last conversation with you, the disapproval on your face when you finally mentioned her relationship with Danny. It troubles her more than she expected. Were you right? Is she just scrambling to fit someone, anyone, into her life, even if it means ignoring the screams inside her head telling her to run?

The kettle whistles, snapping her out of her thoughts. She makes her tea and settles back into the couch, stirring slowly as she thinks about what it might mean to step back from everything—Danny, you, all of it.

With nothing but time until sleep takes her or the sun rises—whichever comes first—Leigh picks up her phone to distract herself. She scrolls through social media, news articles, anything to keep her mind off the spinning thoughts. Eventually, she wanders to the advice column inbox to check on the latest submissions.

Her breath catches in her throat when she sees another entry from EspressoEyes, a handle she recognizes—possibly yours. It reads:

“Is it wise to pursue other relationships if you have strong feelings for someone else? That someone is a friend, and staying just friends is becoming increasingly difficult. My feelings seem to be putting a strain on our relationship. Should I give myself some space?”

Leigh reads the message two more times. She sets her phone down, her thumb instinctively finding its way to her mouth where she nibbles at the nail, a nervous habit when she’s thinking long and hard. And the more she thinks about it, the more obvious it becomes. Of course, she's the friend you're talking about. This is you, openly struggling with your feelings for her. She had hoped things might change, might become less complicated when Sara came into the picture, but she was mistaken.

When she asked about Sara, Leigh was trying to gauge your feelings for her, wondering if Sara's presence meant she didn't need to worry about whether you were EspressoEyes or not. In her mind, if you were involved with Sara, it would imply you weren't interested in Leigh. But she surprised even herself by asking if you had slept with Sara, unsure why she needed to know that detail. Deep down, she couldn’t openly admit just how relieved she felt when you told her you hadn’t.

Leigh picks up her phone again and starts typing out a reply to the submission. When she’s done she tosses her phone somewhere on the couch and goes back to her tea. Sitting there, she watches as the sky outside shifts from dark to a wash of pastels.

A week later, Leigh’s phone vibrates incessantly on the table, the screen lighting up with Danny's name again. Finally, with a frustrated sigh, she turns it off and sets it aside. They've been cycling through breakups and makeups so often it's exhausting—a twisted routine, one that's leaving her more drained each time.

It's Halloween, and since she and Danny are off again, Leigh decides to take the night for herself. She picks Matt's favorite restaurant, which is fully decked out for the holiday, with jack-o'-lanterns lining the walls and eerie candles flickering on each table. She orders a pumpkin-spiced latte and a small plate of appetizers, settling in to enjoy her evening solo. Later, she’ll have that tiramisu that her late husband so adored.

Matt always loved this holiday because it was the one time of year Leigh would indulge him by dressing up as whatever comic book character he was into at the moment. They'd start the evening here for pre-dinner celebrations before meeting up with friends and family later on. But tonight, there are no costumes for Leigh; she's dressed simply in jeans and a cardigan, her face free of makeup, her hair tucked behind her ears to keep it out of the way while she eats.

As she waits, she watches families and couples in costumes come and go, a bittersweet creeping up at her.

Then, you walk in. You’re dressed sharply, scanning the room like you're meeting someone—on a date. Leigh catches her breath. Were you aware that this was Matt’s favorite restaurant? Moreover, it’s been almost two weeks since that awkward morning when you left in a haste. You haven’t noticed her yet. Leigh watches you for a moment, debating what to do. She’s torn between going over or staying put. The last she contributed to the advice column, she’d left a message she hoped you'd find useful if you were indeed the person she’s been advising to. From the look of things, maybe you were taking that advice after all.

Taking a deep breath, Leigh stands and walks over. As you turn and notice her, a small, tentative smile appears on her lips when your eyes meet.

“Hey.”

You return the smile, though it's imbued with a bit of wariness. She appreciates it nonetheless.

“Hey,” you say.

Leigh doesn't beat around the bush; she gets straight to the point of why she came over. “Look, I'm sorry,” she says, the words coming out almost demandingly. “About last time. I crossed a line asking about Sara.”

There's an unmistakable assertiveness to her apology, carrying the same confidence and directness with which she usually addresses any issue. She doesn’t bow her head or wring her hands; instead, she holds your gaze steadily, expecting her apology to be taken as seriously as she means it.

“It’s okay. I wasn’t exactly in line myself when I brought up Danny,” you say, looking up at her. Then, searching for something else to say, you ask, “So, are you here to meet Danny?”

Leigh seems unfazed by the mention of Danny, yet again. You feel a bit silly soon after, realizing that after just acknowledging the awkwardness of digging into each other’s romantic lives, here you are, doing it again. You just can’t help yourself, can you?

“No. I’m on my own tonight,” she replies. Then she mirrors your earlier question, a slight tilt to her head. “And you? Here with Sara?”

“No, things didn’t push through with Sara. I’m meeting someone new,” you say, the words feeling strange as they come out. It was a simple yes or no question, and you're not quite sure what compelled you to open up about the specifics of your dating life.

Leigh just nods, her face neutral, not giving away anything in reaction to your news. “I should let you get back to your, uh, date,” she says, then quietly returns to her seat.

Having a date with a stranger just a few feet away from the woman you truly care about is about as ironic as the universe can be.

You’re on your second americano, the bitter taste barely registering as you glance at your watch for the umpteenth time. It's been thirty minutes past the time your date was supposed to arrive, and there's still no sign of him.

The restaurant has filled up around you. Families are tucked into booths, laughing and sharing plates piled high with food. Groups of friends clink glasses in cheerful toasts, and couples lean close, whispering and smiling over candlelit tables. Sitting alone at a table set for two, you start to feel conspicuously isolated.

The last two texts you sent within the hour remain unanswered, their blue bubbles on the screen marking the time you spent waiting. Determined to find some explanation, you open the dating app where you met him, your fingers tapping nervously. There, his profile pops up, showing that he is currently online. Relief washes over you for a moment—maybe there's a reasonable explanation. He might still show up. But as you tap the message icon to send him a query about his whereabouts, a sudden notification stops you: you can no longer message this user.

Feeling disheartened and embarrassed, you can’t help but feel all kinds of ugly for being stood up by someone who doesn’t even mean anything to you. Did he see you waiting and decide not to meet? What about you turned him off? You find yourself scrutinizing everything about your appearance. Was it what you were wearing—perhaps not feminine enough for his taste? Your hair was pulled back, exposing your forehead; maybe he didn't like that look. Or was it your posture—too slouched or too stiff? You even wonder if he might have passed someone else on his way here, someone he found more attractive. It's unsettling to realize how quickly the self-confidence you've spent years building can be shaken in just one evening.

You signal the waiter for the check. Although your stomach is growling, the thought of eating anything seems impossible right now. You're just focused on getting out of there as quickly as you can. Just as you finish paying, Leigh appears at your table. Without a word, she slides into the seat across from you. You're surprised to see her, and although you're not really in the mood for company or conversation, her presence is somehow less intrusive than you would expect.

“I couldn't help but notice your date never arrived,” Leigh comments with an amused smile, inadvertently adding salt to the wound. You think to yourself, Way to rub it in, Leigh, but you're too drained to actually say anything confrontational, so you just mumble a small, “Yeah.”

Leigh leans in a bit closer, lowering her voice as if she's about to let you in on a secret.

“Want to get out of here?”

It’s definitely not a date. Far from it.

It’s just two friends winding up spending Halloween together by chance.

It’s what Leigh keeps telling herself.

Leigh didn’t know what came over her when she went back to your table. She hadn't thought she'd be asking you to ditch the restaurant and wander the city for the rest of the night—together. What she did know was that she had been eating unusually slowly, glancing over at you occasionally to see how your evening was unfolding. But as it became painfully obvious that your date was a no-show, she couldn’t take it; seeing you left to handle the disappointment alone was more than she could bear.

Turning to Leigh in your car, you ask, “Do you mind if we stop first at the 7-Eleven on Main? I haven't had dinner yet.”

“What kind of dinner can you get from a 7-Eleven?” she asks.

You shrug and say, “Donuts.”

At the 7-Eleven, you grab a box of assorted donuts, and on a whim, you also pick up a few cans of beer to go along with them. With snacks in hand, you drive to a spot that overlooks the city—the same one where Leigh took you after getting takeouts the first time around. It’s not secluded—there’s a small crowd, with several cars parked and groups of people lounging on their car hoods.

“I wasn’t always attracted to him,” Leigh murmurs, after finishing her first beer. You both sit side-by-side with the trunk of your car open, swinging your legs while Leigh’s are crossed over the edge of the trunk.

You glance over at her, a curious ‘Hm?’ escaping your lips, though they're still full of donuts.

Leigh chuckles at your reaction, finding the sight of your cheeks stuffed with food more endearing than she probably should.

“Danny,” she clarifies with a sigh. “I actually used to hate him. He was always such a burden on Matt. Always dragging him into trouble.”

You think about what she's said, then offer a perspective, “You know, they say hate isn't the opposite of love, it's indifference. So maybe there’s always been something there, something more than just annoyance.”

Leigh leans back, stretching her arms out behind her for support as she considers your point. You find yourself wondering what's going through her mind. Is your honesty drawing her even closer to Danny? You could have exploited her past feelings, suggesting that maybe she's always disliked Danny and is confusing her loneliness for love. But you choose not to manipulate her emotions, even if it might be easy to sway her. You won't take advantage of her vulnerability just to get what you want.

Though you can’t deny that the temptation is there.

“Leigh, can I ask you a question?” you say, watching her closely.

She nods, her face open and expectant as she pops open another can of beer.

“How did you find out about me and Matt?”

Leigh takes a sip before answering. “Didn’t I mention it before?”

You purse your lips and shake your head, maintaining a neutral expression as you encourage her to elaborate.

“Danny told me,” Leigh reveals after a brief pause.

“What exactly did he tell you?”

Leigh hesitates, her eyes flickering to the side before meeting yours again. She sets the can down, her fingers drumming against the aluminum in a slow, rhythmic pattern.

“He just flat-out told me one night. I didn't believe him at first, so he mentioned your name to prove it, and I pieced together the rest. I tried to learn everything I could about you, where you lived... and that’s how I discovered your clinic in the city. And I... well, you know the rest,” she says. From what Leigh said, you easily conclude that Danny hadn't come clean to her about his role in facilitating your relationship with Matt. He had conveniently removed himself from the narrative, leaving out his involvement entirely. Lost in thought, you don't realize you've grown quiet until Leigh's voice pulls you back.

“Why do you ask?”

If you answer that question, you don’t believe you can continue hiding the truth about Danny any longer. As you watch Leigh, relaxed in the back of your car, her hair tousled by the gentle evening breeze, you're torn. You're afraid of disrupting her peace. The truth, as it often has, seems only to bring her pain. So, you buy yourself some time to think.

“Do you ever wish he had just kept it to himself? That you never knew any of this?”

Leigh appears briefly disconcerted by the question. She takes some time to think about how to respond, and you give her the time she needs, reaching for another piece of donut from the box. At this rate, you're on track to polish off half a dozen all by yourself.

“Knowing the truth hurt—a lot. It felt like I was suddenly a stranger to my own life,” Leigh says, looking somewhere distant before her eyes return to you. “But then again, knowing has changed how I see things, how I see him—and even how I see you. It’s given me a chance to see things as they really are, not just how I want them to be.”

“You never would’ve met me,” you say with a light-hearted grin, almost suggesting that maybe it was better she hadn’t. But Leigh gives you a look, a gentle sadness in her eyes that makes it clear she doesn’t entertain the thought of not having met you.

“What about you? Do you wish things had stayed hidden?” she asks, turning the question back on you.

A part of you—a very significant part—trembles on the edge of laying bare your feelings for her.

Fiddling with the edge of the donut box, you let a small smile flicker across your lips, but it doesn't reach your eyes. “There's something to be said for not knowing everything. Sometimes, ignorance really is bliss,” you say softly. “I mean, not knowing can save you from a lot of unnecessary heartache.”

As you speak, you’re still weighing whether knowing Leigh is turning into an unnecessary heartbreak.

Leigh nods slowly, the corners of her mouth lifting in a bittersweet smile. “Well, when you put it that way, maybe not knowing some things is for the best.”

It feels like a silent agreement on that fine line between knowing everything and being happier not knowing. Perhaps what you can do for now is spare Leigh from her own unnecessary heartbreak. If what she has with Danny is working, why ruin it?

“You know what's missing here? Music,” Leigh muses, reaching for her third beer. “Oh, and you better keep up,” she adds, glancing at the single beer you’ve had.

“Or how about you pace yourself? I'd hate for the party to end too soon for you,” you quip slyly.

Leigh grins, unfazed by your warning. She leans closer, and her breath, warmed by the beers, brushes against your cheek. “Speaking of parties, I actually got invited to this Halloween bash tonight. Everyone's supposed to be in costume, and there will definitely be music. We should go. What do you say?”

You pretend to think about it, but you’re already clearing out your trunk and hopping off it as you reply, “Well, you did say you needed music.”

A party isn’t really your scene.

Leigh is already tipsy by the time you both arrive at it. People are either clad in bulky costumes or barely dressed at all. Halloween decorations dangle from the ceiling, a foot or two above the faces of the revelers as strobe lights flash in erratic bursts. You weave through a crowd of zombies and sexy nurses, the bass from the DJ's speakers vibrating under your feet.

As you're both making your way toward the bar, a co-worker spots Leigh and pulls her aside excitedly. “Leigh, over here!” they shout over the noise, grabbing her arm. She turns back to you with a slightly apologetic grin. “Just a sec, I'll catch up!” she promises, before being swallowed by the crowd, her hand slipping from your arm.

But that was half an hour ago.

Now, you're feeling dizzy from the alcohol that's been keeping you company in Leigh's absence, and the sea of masked and painted faces around you is starting to merge into a blur. You round a corridor that brings you back to the main room and finally, you spot her. Leigh is near the dance floor, laughing with a group dressed in characters you don’t recognize. She sees you and waves excitedly, her movements a bit too exaggerated. You make your way over, dodging a particularly enthusiastic witch.

“Found you,” you say, as you reach her side.

Leigh grins, her eyes bright. “Dance with me!” she yells over the music, grabbing your hand and pulling you toward the throng of sweaty bodies. Too exhausted to argue, you let her lead you into the chaos. As the music takes over and you both start to dance, the rest of the party fades into the background. Leigh's hand is warm in yours, her other hand reaching up to loop around your neck. The music swells, and the crowd presses in, pushing you closer together. Her breath is sweet with the tang of alcohol, and her cheeks are flushed.

Leigh’s movements become less and less coordinated as she leans into you, her body heavenly against yours. Her lips come dangerously close to yours, barely brushing against them, and for a moment—surrounded by her warmth and scent—you're tempted. You want her, deeply, irrevocably—

But not like this.

You firm your hands on her hips, pushing her slightly away. “Hey, let's get some air, yeah?” you suggest calmly despite your heart going crazy in your chest.

She looks up at you, a bit confused but nods, her smile unfaltering. You take her hand again and guide her off the dance floor. Moving through the crowd proves to be a challenge with Leigh's unsteady steps. She stumbles, laughing as she clings to your arm for support.

“I almost ate it back there!” she exclaims, still giggling.

“Yeah, you did,” you mutter distractedly. As the festive sounds of the party fade behind the closed door, reality slaps you both with a sobering chill. Leigh is simply too drunk, and you’re almost a fool for nearly taking advantage of that. You can't concentrate on anything but what nearly happened back there.

You feel Leigh’s hand slip back into yours, slotting in place like magnets that just fit together. Her laughter has quieted, and she leans into you slightly, resting her head on your shoulder. It's then you realize that a drunken Leigh is more affectionate and less aware of physical boundaries—dangerous.

“You know, maybe we should call it a night? I can take you home,” you suggest, making an effort not to lean into her, even though the intoxicating mix of her shampoo and the faint scent of sweat beckons you closer.

Her reaction is immediate and surprisingly lucid. “I can’t go home like this,” Leigh protests, straightening up. “Jules has her own Halloween thing tonight, and I can't show up drunk and be seen like this by her. She’s been sober for a year now; I can’t just...” Her voice trails off, filled with worry.

You glance at your wrist and see it's already 2 AM. A sigh escapes you as the reality of your early morning responsibilities begins to weigh in. You have to be up in four hours to open the clinic at 8 AM, and staying out to make sure Leigh fully sobers up is far from feasible. Leigh appears exhausted, her eyes heavy, even as she tries to muster a smile.

“Listen, Leigh,” you say, eyeing a practical solution. “I have an early start tomorrow, and you look like you need some rest. How about you crash at my place tonight? You can sleep it off and head home in the morning when you’re feeling better.”

Leigh seems to consider this for a moment, her gaze drifting towards the street where groups of men glance their way as they pass by. Finally, she nods meekly, looking relieved.

“That sounds really good right now. My head feels heavy, and I just want to go to sleep,” she mumbles, letting out a weary sigh and rubbing her eyes. You help her to her feet and steady her as you both walk back to your car, which is fortunately parked nearby. Leigh curls up in the passenger seat, and you crack the windows to let in some fresh air.

Once home, you give Leigh some clothes to change into and then start setting up the couch for yourself, grabbing an extra pillow and blanket from the cupboard. As you turn back a while later, you see Leigh, in her slightly tipsy state, misinterpreting your preparations. She gives a small, tired smile and plops down onto the couch. Reacting quickly, you catch her just before she falls completely into it.

“W-What are you doing?” she whispers, surprised as she finds herself practically in your arms, half-carried in a bridal style.

You feel the heat rise from your cheeks to your chest, aware of how close she is. “This is for me,” you say, nodding towards the couch, “you’re taking the bed.”

To avoid any further confusion, you slowly lift her up, wrapping an arm securely around her waist as you guide her to your bedroom. Leigh’s head remains tucked in your neck, her body relaxed and yielding as you move.

“You really don’t have to do this,” she mumbles against your skin, though her tone suggests she’s grateful for your care. You don’t see the blush that has crept to her own cheeks, your eyes fixed straight ahead.

“It’s no trouble at all,” you assure her as you gently set her down on your bed. “Make yourself comfortable. The mattress’ much better for a good night's sleep.”

Leigh nods, pulling the covers around her. “Thank you,” she says, her voice soft and more sober now.

“Anytime,” you respond with a reassuring smile. “Good night, Leigh.” You close the bedroom door softly behind you and retreat to the couch.

“Good night, Y/N…” Leigh whispers to herself, a faint smile touching her lips as she nestles deeper into the bed.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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vbecker10 · 1 day

Note

Can you do a jealous ex where reader is with Loki and the ex starts getting mad and starts texting and calling reader constantly then one day she forgot her phone and Loki reads the texts and listens to the voicemails then reader comes home to a concerned Loki because reader got hurt somehow?

She's Mine Now

Pairing: Loki x female reader (y/n)

Summary: You and Loki have only just started dating and you're worried your ex-boyfriend will ruin everything. You've been able to hide how often your ex contacts you but one night he calls over and over while you are with Loki. After finally admitting to Loki what has been going on, the God of Mischief takes matters into his own hands.

Warnings: controlling ex-boyfriend, jealous ex-boyfriend, some vague mentions of previous abuse (nothing specific), arguing, swearing, threatening language, name calling, Loki being super protective

A/N: I'm so so so sorry it took me ages to get to this. I'm finally going through my request box and I loved this the minute I saw it. I changed it just a little but I hope that's OK. Thank you for sending it! I hope you like it! 💚

Also... I realized as I was proofreading this that I never named the ex-boyfriend so it's whatever you want it to be lol pick any jerk you know haha

Loki sits on the end of his couch, your head resting on his shoulder while his fingers run slowly up and down your arm. You've only been together a month but you have completely fallen for him. You look up at him and smile when he laughs at the movie you selected.

He notices you watching him and kisses your nose causing you to giggle. "The movie is more interesting than I am, I assure you," he jokes.

"I've seen it," you respond but rest your head against him again.

Everything about him makes you want to tell him how perfect he is and how deeply you love him but you are afraid to. A small voice inside you keeps holding you back from opening up to him the way you want to. Every time you told you ex-boyfriend you loved him, he would tell you that you sounded clingy or needy or desperate. You don't want Loki to feel the same so you keep those three words to yourself.

Loki's fingers move from your arm to your back, moving in slow circles. You close your eyes and focus on how calming it feels but then his hand moves further up. He begins playing with your hair, his eyes still fixed on the screen, a small smile on his lips. You try to keep your thoughts from racing as you feel a familiar pit growing in your stomach. He's upset, he doesn't like your hair this way, your inner voice starts to spread panic throughout your body, he's going to grab a fistful of it any second and yell at you. You tense as his fingers gently run through your hair and he notices the change in your behavior.

"Are you okay, love?" he asks, he removes his hand and looks down at you concerned.

"Yea, I just-" you look down and begin playing with the sleeve on your sweater as your mind replays what happened the last time you got a haircut without talking to your ex first. "I'm sorry, I- I was going to ask you before I cut my hair. I know I should have but I was only going for a trim so I thought it was okay but then I saw a shorter style I really liked and I just went for it but-"

He cuts off your words suddenly when his lips met yours, your whole body responds to his kiss and the feeling of his hand softly touching your cheek, relaxing you instantly. He pulls back slightly, his eyes locked on yours so he knows you are listening to him. "It's your hair darling. You can do what you like with it," he gently plays with the ends of your hair. "You don't need to ask me to do things like this," he says as if it is obvious.

You nod and remind yourself for the hundredth time that Loki is not your ex-boyfriend.

He settles back on the couch, bringing you with him easily, his arm around you. He smiles and adds, "I'm sorry if I forgot to tell you that you look beautiful today."

You blush and bury your face against his chest, the heavy feeling inside of you vanishing completely. He kisses the top of your head and goes back to watching the movie. You close your eyes and force the images of your ex-boyfriend's reaction from your mind, replacing them with Loki's words.

Half an hour later your phone vibrates on the coffee table. You lean forward to try and reach for it but Loki keeps his arm around you. You giggle and try again but he doesn't let go. He looks down at you and smirks, "Where do you think you're going?"

Your phone continues to vibrate. "I need to answer my phone," you roll your eyes.

He looks back towards the TV and dramatically puts his foot on the edge of the coffee table, sliding it further away from you as he straightens his leg.

"Loki!" you laugh as a smile spreads across his lips. He finally loosens his grip so you can get up. You pick up your phone but as soon as you see the number, you end the call and put it face down on the table.

"Who is it?" he asks.

"Wrong number," you answer with a shrug but the laughter is gone from your voice.

You sit heavily next to him and he waves his hand to bring the table back to its original spot. He doesn't respond but you know he can tell you are lying, his expression has become serious and his eyes remain fixed on your phone. Before you can think of a better excuse, your phone begins to vibrate again. You grab it and hang up quickly without stopping to see the number, you know who is calling.

"Who is it, Y/N?" he asks again, his tone is curious but you can feel your nerves getting worse.

"It's no one," you tell him as you tug on your sleeve again.

He sighs at your response and turns off the TV. "I don't like being lied to," he says as he faces you.

"I know," you shrink away from him, waiting for him to yell or tell you to leave.

"Y/N," he reaches out to touch your chin lightly, wanting you to look at him but you flinch away from his touch involuntary. He pulls away as well, giving you more space instead of invading yours. You look up after a moment and instead of seeing anger in his eyes as you expect, he looks sad.

You know in your heart Loki would never hurt you but your instincts had forced you to distance yourself from him. When your ex was upset because you had lied or had done something he thought was wrong, he could be unpredictable.

Your phone vibrates again and he sighs as he picks it up off the table. He hands it to you and says, "Whoever it is must really want to talk to you."

"I don't want to talk to him," you tell Loki, trying to hold back your tears. You toss it away from you wanting it as far from you as possible. It skims over the top of the coffee table and lands on the ground in front of the TV.

"Who keeps calling you, Y/N?" he asks again and this time you know you need to answer him.

You tuck your legs underneath you and move further away from Loki, wrapping your arms around yourself. He shifts his body to face you but doesn't move any closer. "It's my ex-boyfriend," you tell him, you try to keep the fear from your voice but you know he hears it.

"The one Wanda told me about?" he asks, his eyes glance towards your phone and you see a flash of anger cross his face.

You nod but don't say anything else, you had barely mentioned your ex to Loki for so many reasons. You aren't sure how much Wanda told Loki but it was obviously more then you had ever shared with him.

"Please talk to me," he says, moving towards you slowly, testing to see if you will pull away again. "I don't understand why he would still be calling you. I thought you ended things with him months before I met you."

"He started calling and texting me again a few days after our first date," you finally admit to Loki. "I don't know how he even found out about us..." your voice trails off as you look down.

You feel Loki move closer to you again and your body tenses as you prepare for an argument or worse, you shouldn't have hidden this from him, it was as bad as lying.

"I'm not texting him back I promise. I always ignore him. I don't want him to call me but he just keeps doing it, I've asked him to stop but he won't," you say quickly, all in one breath. Loki opens his mouth to say something but you are too afraid to give him a chance. "I didn't want you to be upset, that's why I didn't tell you, I wasn't trying to hide anything or lie about it, I'm sorry," you feel the apology pouring out as it had so many times with your ex. You cover your face with your hands but can't stop the first few tears from escaping.

"I'm not upset Y/N," he says softly. He gently touches your hands and slowly takes them away from your face, "I'm worried about you, that's all."

You look at him, not having expected that response. When your ex found out you were texting Wanda after work, he had been furious. He had never met her and didn't want you telling a stranger anything about him or your relationship.

"I'm sorry," you mumble quietly, not even sure what you are sorry for anymore.

"Please stop apologizing," he says in a calm voice, "You haven't done anything wrong." He wipes the tears from your cheeks, his eyes never leaving yours.

You nod and without thinking you answer him, "Sorry."

He gives you a half smile and puts his arms around you, pulling you close. You squeeze your eyes shut and press your cheek to his chest as he rubs your back slowly. He holds you and sighs, "I don't know what he did to you... and I will never ask you to tell me," he adds when you look up at him, "But I need you to remember that I am not him. I never want you to be scared of me, you can tell me anything."

"I know," you wipe your eyes again. "I'm sorry-"

He raises an eyebrow at you and you let out a small laugh. "There's that beautiful smile I love so much," he smiles in return.

A few hours later, Loki lays awake staring at the ceiling, wishing you hadn't left. He has told you on numerous occasions that he sleeps much better when you are curled up in his arms. Unfortunately, you need to run an errand before work tomorrow so you had gone back to your apartment after the movie finished. Closing his eyes, he rolls over but sits up quickly when he hears a faint buzzing sound.

He gets out of bed and follows the sound into his living room. Loki looks around as the buzzing gets louder until he finally sees your phone lighting up on the floor just under the tv stand. You must have forgotten you threw it there when your ex-boyfriend was calling. He was worried when you didn't text him to say you arrived home like you always did, so at least now he knows why.

He stands still for a moment, watching it ring as he debates what to do next. The call ends and he bends down to pick it up then he takes a seat on the couch. After a few seconds, it vibrates once more notifying him that there is a new voicemail.

He sits back, phone in one hand with his other hand over his eyes. Loki trusts you more than anyone he has ever known, on Midgard or on Asgard and doesn't want you to think he's invading your privacy. It's not you he wants to check up on, it's your ex-boyfriend. Everything he knows about him, he heard from Wanda in one very short but eye opening conversation. She only told him what little she knew but it was enough for Loki to know that you deserved better. He sounded like a man you weren't safe with and your reaction to his calls tonight confirmed that for him. Loki would do anything to protect you so he takes a deep breath and unlocks your phone.

Thankfully he remembers your password, you had told him what it was last weekend so he could send himself some pictures you took together at the museum. He opens your call history and covers his mouth with his hand in shock. Fifty-three missed calls in the last week alone, he stares at the number in disbelief. You hadn't answered a single call but still he attempted to reach you over and over. Most of the calls came in groups late at night, like they had while you were watching the movie.

He opens your texts, feeling both guilty for looking around and angry knowing what he will likely find. He smiles a bit when he sees how you've saved his name in your phone, Mischief 💚, but immediately frowns when he sees an unsaved number right below his conversation with you.

He clicks on it, at first he barely reads the words, he just scrolls further and further down hoping to find the end. He sees text after text after text, some are long rants while others are a single insulting word and it seems to go on forever. Once a day is a text from you pleading with him to leave you alone but it only seems to enrage him.

Loki quickly goes from upset to angry to furious as he reads the threats and insults your ex-boyfriend had thrown at your over the last few weeks. He grinds his teeth as he thinks about you being afraid of your ex and the things he has done to you. He sits back and types out a lengthy reply but at the last second he deletes it.

With a smirk he sits forward with his elbows on his knees and begins to type a new, much shorter message. He hits send and waits a few moments. Your phone vibrates when your ex replies and Loki turns off your phone before going back to his room.

You look both ways and cross the street quickly, excited to finally see Loki for lunch like you do every day. You spot him sitting on his usual bench just past the entrance to the park, lost in his book. You smile when he looks up, his book vanishing as he stands. He hugs you tightly then leans down to give you a kiss.

"I missed you," you tell him, his arms still around you.

"Then you shouldn't have left last night," he smiles. "Oh, I believe this is yours," he takes your phone out of his pocket.

"Thanks. I can't believe I forgot it, that was really stupid," you shake your head. You had realized when you got home last night that you had left it at Loki's but it was too late to go back.

Your heart stops when you realize its your ex-boyfriend. You look up at Loki, one of his arms is still around you but his eyes are fixed to your ex as he approaches with a wide smile and outstretched arms.

"You are not stupid," he corrects you and before you can respond you see someone walking over to you.

He continues towards you and when your brain finally registers that he is trying to go in for a hug you free yourself from Loki and quickly back away. Loki moves in response, putting himself easily between you and your ex which causes him to stop.

"Seriously Y/N?" he says, already sounding annoyed with you. "I drove all the way out here for lunch with you and you won't even give me a freaking hug? You're lucky I accepted your ridiculous invitation after you kept ignoring me."

Loki says, "Y/N did not invite you here, I did."

"Oh really?" he's looks from you to Loki and seems unphased that he is face to face with the Prince of Asgard. "What, are you looking for some tips on how to control her better?" he laughs to himself. "Of course, if you've decided you're done with her, I'll gladly take her back. I put years into fixing her, wouldn't want that to go to waste."

You take another step back as his eyes find you again and they roam up and down your body. You suddenly wish you hadn't worn a skirt and you cross your arms tightly around yourself. He always commented on how you dressed, he had so many opinions on what he wanted you to wear.

Loki notices how uncomfortable you are and brings the attention back to himself. "Do not look at her, this conversation is between you and me," he tells your ex.

He sighs and says, "Fine, what do you want?"

Loki holds his anger at back and in a controlled tone says, "You will apologize for how you treated her in the past and then you will leave, never return here or contact her again."

He almost laughs and says, "I treated her the way she deserved. She needed to learn how to behave and you should be thankful I trained her as well as I did."

Your eyes dart from your ex to Loki and your heart races with anxiety about what might happen next. Loki doesn't respond at first, you watch his fist clench and his jaw tighten. He looks like he is holding himself back from lashing out with every bit of strength he has.

"You have no idea what she was like before. When I first met her-" he tries to look at you but Loki cuts him off.

He walk steadily forward, glaring at him as approaches. "I will not stand here and listen to a pathetic mortal like you speak poorly of Y/N. She is kind, funny, generous, creative, beautiful and so much more. She never deserved to be mistreated by the likes of you. Y/N is a queen and I will ensure she is treated as such."

You can't take your eyes off of Loki, you've never had anyone speak about you this way before.

Loki stops just in front of your ex and says, "If you ever speak to her, text her or see her again, I will make sure you suffer greater than any human on Midgard has ever suffered before."

Your ex-boyfriend looks at him in shock but it quickly morphs into anger, he does not take being challenged or threatened well. He takes a small step backwards and says, "You can't just threatened me like that. You might be some fancy royal on your planet but here your just another asshole. If I want to talk to her, I will. She was mine once and I could take her back if I really wanted to."

As soon as the words come out of your ex's mouth, you know he finally pushed Loki too far. Loki's full armor and tall horned crown appear in a bright flash of gold and green. Your ex goes quiet in an instant as you are both reminded that Loki truly is a God among men.

The God of Mischief looms over him, staring down at him, daring him to speak again. Loki raises one hand and suddenly your ex is picked up by his throat, a green mist surrounding his neck. He tries to claw at it but Loki's magic brings him closer, until they are eye to eye. In a dark voice, Loki says, "She's mine now."

Your ex-boyfriend looks utterly terrified and a part of you can't help but enjoy seeing the fear in his eyes after all the pain he inflicted on you. You watch, your heart still pounding quickly. As much as you want your ex to suffer, you are afraid Loki will go to far, you've never seen him so angry. Look had worked so hard over the last few months to gain the trust and support of the Avengers, if he hurts your ex he will have to face serious consequences. As much as you hate your ex-boyfriend, its not worth risking Loki's future with the team or with you.

Loki's magic brings him closer, until the are inches from each other, his feet dangling helplessly above the ground. "Do not doubt for a moment that I will do what needs to be done to protect the woman I love. Is that clear?" Loki asks and he nods rapidly in response.

Loki releases him from his grasps and he falls to the ground. Getting up quickly, he runs from the park without looking back.

Loki's magic vanishes, his crown and armor fading away in the breeze as he turns to face you. The determination and rage in his eyes is gone, replaced with his own nervous fear. Your eyes remain locked on him as he slowly walks towards you.

"Y/N," he asks softly. You don't answer, your mind still processing the events from a few moments ago. "I'm sorry, I never meant to let my temper get so out of control but I just couldn't bear to listen to him talk about you for another moment," he explains and you nod in understanding.

He reaches out to take your hand, looking down as your finger interlock and sighs. "I told you not to be afraid of me and then I showed you exactly what kind of terrifying monster I really am. I never wanted to scare you, I only wanted him to leave you alone."

"You um..." you pause, biting you lip as you think. "You said you love me?"

"Loki," you close the distance between you and touch his cheek with your other hand. "I could never be scared of you." He looks at you slowly and you smile, he breaths a sigh of relief and smiles in return.

He laughs and relaxes completely, his arm wrapping around your waist. "Darling, I have loved you from the first time we spoke," he tells you. "You mean everything to mean."

You reach up and kiss him, his hands move down your back to hold you flush against his body. You look up, still pressed together and say, "I love you too. Thank you for keeping me safe from him."

You rest your head on his shoulder and he kisses the top of your head. "I promise, I will always protect you, you just need to tell me what is bothering you," he swears.

You smile when you look into his eyes and see how much he means it. He leans down to kiss you again and between breaths he whispers, "Mine."

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

@soubi001 @michelleleewise @harlequin-hangout @ace-of-gay @xorpsbane @mochie85 @sheris532 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @kkdvkyya @animnerd @peaches1958 @peachyjinx @lokiandbuckysdoll @winterfrostlovetriangle @high-functioning-lokipath @winniewings @pics-and-fanfics @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @lulubelle814 @crimson25 @goblingirlsarah @janineb86 @chantsdemarins @simone818283 @tonystank8 @im-briana-stan @foxherder @chantsdemarins @catsladen @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal @lokidokieokie @dragonmurray @honeydew3064 @malfoycassimalfoy @kneelingformyloki @newtomofgods @jiyascepter

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loveshotzz · 2 days

Note

I have to know what would we do to spoil our old man on his birthday 🥺🥺🥺🥺

we’d spoil him rotten 🥺

here’s semi spicy 18+ blurb about giving our favorite old man a massage on his birthday ♥️

(this blurb is for my au All I Really Want Is You but can be read as a stand-alone. Steve is 43 and fem!reader is 31 requested so long ago by @joekeerysmoles 💕) wc:600

The rose oil that covers your hands makes your fingertips glide over his broad freckled shoulders with ease. Eucalyptus hangs thick and heavy in the warm air, crackling from the wooden wicks inside the candles that provide the only light in his room. They help the nerves that still flutter even after a year of saying ‘I love you’.

Steve lays flat on his chest underneath you only in his boxer briefs, the gold Gucci emblem around the waist band shimmers in the low light. Your knees sit on either side of his hips, dipping down the plush bedding of his new king size mattress. A 43rd birthday gift to himself, while you sit in nothing but the thin red lace of the one you got for him.

Leaning forward with a smirk, your lips ghost across two of your favorite moles that dot the back of his neck, the tip of your nose tracing the shell of his ear.

“Happy birthday old man.”

Applying just enough pressure up the dip of his spine, you earn a low moan from him that vibrates deep in your core. It takes every ounce of your willpower not to rock your hips and chase it.

“Honey,” his voice comes out muffled from around the tops of his hands,“I wish there were words to describe how good this feels.”

Giggling with a chest full of pride, you catch a flash of his white teeth, stubble covered cheeks pushing up at his favorite sound. One of his big hands slips out, shoulders flexing with his movement as he reaches back to squeeze at the soft dough of your thigh before disappearing back to where it came from.

A content sigh escapes from between his pink lips as your focus shifts to his neck, your fingers digging at the tense muscles under his gold chain. The metal glistens with oil every time it catches the glow of the flickering candle, while your thumb and forefinger knead behind his ears.

“Shit, baby.”

Huffing with furrowed brows, he readjusts so he can turn his head to the other side. The movement slides you forward, creating just enough friction to bite down on your bottom lip. The dull ache between your legs becomes even harder to ignore, and you wonder if he can feel just how wet you are.

“Yeah, is that the spot?” You coo all sticky sweet, working it with even more focus. He sucks in a sharp breath, his teasing kisses all night spurring you on.

”God, fuck - yeah, yeah, right there.” He groans loud enough to drown out the sounds of The O’Jays vinyl playing downstairs, your thumb finally loosening up a hard knot.

His whole body melts under your touch, the hard lines of his face relaxing while the blunt ends of your nails scratch at the silver hairs hiding in the nape of his neck. Letting go of his long work week with deep breath, the movements have your hips rolling on their own, his oiled sun kissed skin making it too easy to do again.

He hums knowingly, relishing in the soft tug of his hair loving the way you squeal when he flips himself over. Big hands grab at your hips to keep you in place, the effects of your massage had on him becoming obvious nestled between your thighs.

There’s still no preparing for the sight beneath you, and despite seeing it almost every day, you still can’t believe he’s yours.

His soft hair is a tousled mess of auburn and silver on top of his head, begging you to drag your hands through it. The five o’clock shadow that peppers his strong jaw is at your favorite length, and sometimes you think he grows it out a little longer just for you. His gold chain that hangs off his neck fits like a choker, no longer lost in the thick patch of chest hair that you swear has a few more gray curls inside of it after today. Letting your hands wander his chest, your gentle touch makes the subtle muscles of his abs twitch. Perfect teeth biting down on his full bottom lip, watching you in awe.

“You know I hate my birthdays? Always have.” Steve hums, warm palms gliding up your thighs, squeezing at the soft dough before digging his long fingers into your hips, “Now I wish it was every day with you lookin’ like this, pretty girl.”

”Who says it can’t be?” You grin, running your slick hands back up his pecs, nails scratching in the coarse hair there.

Leaning forward, you fix his chain bumping the end of your nose with his, rolling your hips slowly, you feel him twitch inside the soft cotton of his briefs.

”It certainly feels like it,” he whispers with a smile against your lips.

#my writing #steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #all i really want is you #older!steve harrington #it’s 1am of course i’m posting a blurb about him

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sunlightmurdock · 1 day

Text

hands to yourself | dilf bradley bradshaw x nanny!reader (18+)

surprised with an afternoon to himself, bradley takes advantage of the alone-time, thinking about the woman he can’t have.

warnings: shameless pwp, bradley is down bad for his nanny and hasn’t touched himself — or anyone — in a long ass time. masturbation, pining, swearing, fantasising about oral and such. voyeurism, kinda, he gets walked in on. I may write a part two for this but idk yet. I just needed to write a lil smth about him touching himself. Wc: 3k

this is the lingerie set I was thinking of but imagine whatever ya like x

…

Bradley drops his keys into the bowl by the door, they land with a stark rattle. The faint tan-line between his brows disappears into the crease that caused it as he frowns. He looks towards the stairs, and then wanders in the living room. His boots tap softly against the floor.

“Kids?” He calls out into the unfamiliar quiet.

Nothing. His eyes widen in slight panic, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair as he looks around him. The floor is spotless — their toys are stored neatly in their bins, there aren’t any new stains on his rug, and there aren’t any cartoons on his television.

The sound of his boots on the ground are unnerving; he can’t bring himself to admit that he misses the sounds of chaos he usually returns to. He wanders through the house, making a beeline for the backyard. Sunny day like this, he figures that’s where he’ll find them.

Nothing. The yard is completely empty beside the laundry hanging out to dry. His mouth feels dry.

Once the mid-day mind fog dissipates, Bradley’s panic starts to, too. That birthday party. You’d mentioned it twice this week already, and once this morning. He’s just forgetful at the minute — — you know how crazy work has been for him.

He pauses, standing in his unusually clean living room, and purses his lips. His hands come to rest on his hips while he looks around him. He isn’t used to this.

Usually, within seconds of him walking through the door, he’s got a kid attached to his leg or a fight to break up or a permission slip to sign.

There’s nothing that he needs to do.

Nothing urgent.

Nobody else home.

Lifting his wrist, he takes a quick glance down at his watch and considers what to do with his sudden freedom. Birthday parties take a couple of hours, right?

He takes one final look around him, his eyes catching on the laundry drying outside. Clipped to the line is a power-blue balconette bra. He’s seen it before. The day he accidentally walked in on you.

Since you moved in four months ago, Bradley has been especially careful about knocking first. He wishes he could say it’s because he’s a gentleman. Really, it’s just because it made it hard enough for him to keep his hands to himself the first time.

There had been a heatwave that week. You had the afternoon off but Bradley hadn’t been able to find the sunscreen, and his kids are damn near impossible to keep out of the sunlight. With them arguing downstairs and trying to figure out the lock to let themselves out, he just wasn’t thinking and he hadn’t knocked.

“Hey, do you know where you put the—“ He’d stopped, frozen, taking in the sight of you sprawled across your bed. His bed. The bed he gave to you when you got the job of living here. A red popsicle between your lips and a book propped open in front of you, wearing nothing but a powder-blue set.

“Oh—“ Your eyes had gone all wide and surprised, too shocked to move, just like him.

The only thing that reminded him that he even had the option to move was the sound of his son running up the stairs to hurry this process along. He had slammed the door shut, blushing furiously, and turned to face his eldest.

“Found it, dad! It was in my backpack.” Grinning, he had held up the bottle of sunscreen and Bradley had just been forced to continue with his afternoon like he hadn’t seen anything at all.

When he finally peels his eyes away from the line of drying clothes outside, his gaze lands on the basket of dried and folded laundry sitting on his kitchen counter ready to be put away. Sitting right on top, is a glossy looking pair of blue panties that match the bra on the line.

Bradley’s already been kicking himself for his behavior since you got here. It’s downright shameful, the things he lets himself think about you. You’re half his age, first off. Second -- he’s your boss. You live in his house. His kids think you’re their best friend.

They think you’re just here because you love hanging out with them so much, not because their mommy and daddy couldn’t get along for the life of them and daddy works too much.

His mouth waters. Staring at some blue lace in a laundry hamper and his mouth’s practically watering. He’s pathetic. His guy friends keep telling him he needs to get back in the game, start moving on — he hadn’t been so sure. But then, he’s never almost popped a hard-on over a thong in a pile before.

He can picture you so perfectly in them. Your round ass barely covered by the material, legs kicked up behind you and your ankles crossed. When he closes his eyes, he can picture you facing the other way. Your face toward the headboard, your ass right in front of him.

His slacks grow tighter as his neglected cock stirs to life. It occurs to him that he can’t remember the last time he jerked off. Maybe sometime before his middle kid got the flu? — Around a month ago, maybe. His nights since then had been primarily spent clearing up puke.

The sad part is, the thought only tends to occur to him when he’s at work. Home is always far too hectic. For a while now, he’s been stuck working late into the night with a boner while he’s flicking through candidate paperwork and flight logs.

Well, he’s thinking about it now, and he’s got the place all to himself. No locking himself in the bathroom and letting the shower run, trying to think of anything but the growing list of chores he has to do to keep this house functioning.

He swallows thickly.

He’ll tell the guys that they’re right. He needs to get back into the game; get his head on right, stop pining over his nanny. Tomorrow. For now, he lifts his hand and takes the underwear, smoothing the sheer mesh between his index and thumb. Closing his eyes, he hopes that you won’t notice they’re gone before he can return them.

He twists the cap off of an ice cold beer, leaves his boots neatly by the door and walks calmly upstairs. From there, he clicks his bedroom door shut and steadily takes himself out of his uniform, dropping it into his laundry hamper.

Finally, he settles down against his headboard with his phone in his hand and your panties in his lap.

Porn will make this better. It’s less weird if he’s not necessarily picturing your face. It’s not — but he might have a better chance at looking you in the eye later if he tells himself that.

Not that any of this feels exactly regular.

He inhales and shifts, and scrolls. Birds are still tweeting outside, singing early afternoon songs. His teeth nip at the inside of his cheek as he scrolls aimlessly until he finds a thumbnail that looks halfway doable.

All alone, the house feels especially quiet when the first moan spills from the speakers. He flinches at the sound and scrambles for the volume button, then hesitates. He doesn’t have to be quiet. He doesn’t even have to be ashamed. Shit, it’s a little late for that.

His brows knit together a bit, cocking his head as he examines the babbling girl on the phone screen. His hand stirs to life from where it had gone limp on his thigh, finding his cock through the grey fabric of his boxers. With one last cautious glance to his closed bedroom door, the silence beyond it confirms to him that he’s okay.

Wetting his lips with his tongue, he strokes himself over the material. The video isn’t particularly interesting, not when Bradley’s head can fill itself with far more interesting material at whim. His mind starts to wander back to that dream he’d had of you in the nurses outfit— that one had hit him hard, literally. He could barely look in your direction without getting hard for two days.

Soon enough, he’s hard and straining against the briefs. But that’s thinking about you, and that’s not allowed. He shifts restlessly and goes back to scrolling, palming himself absently. Finally, he comes across a video that sparks something. The thumbnail is of a girl with swollen lips and a cock in her mouth. It’ll do.

There we go. He huffs, that red-hot desperate feeling spreading down his neck and covering his shoulders. Making like it’s going to swallow him whole. Bradley lifts his hips to shuck down his boxers, tucking the waistband under his balls, still prepared for a hasty recovery at the sound of the garage door opening or something. He glances down at himself, remembering the days his thighs were narrower and more taut and he wasn’t noticing grey in his pubes.

If he wanted this done quick and fast, he’d spit hard into the centre of his palm and get to work. It’s been a long time since it hasn’t had to be quick. He thinks he has— he turns a bit and pulls open the drawer of his bedside table, rummaging blindly at the back until he comes up with what he’s looking for — lube. It’s practically full, not like he has been using it much.

A drop in the middle of his hand is enough, he figures. Turning his attention back to this new video, he settles, cupping the weight of his shaft in the palm of his hand. He gives it one slow pump, following the length, coating himself a bit. Real slow, his eyes study the screen, working the lubricant against his skin.

The actress bobs her mouth around the on-screen cock enthusiastically, moaning around him, raking her fingertips along his thighs. He locks his fist around himself, warm and tight, wet. It’s not a mouth but it’s the closest he has felt in a long time. If he closes his eyes, it could be your mouth.

You’d take him slowly, at first, ease him into it with that taunting nature you’ve let him glimpse at. He wouldn’t close his eyes; wouldn’t take ‘em off you. His hand steadies into a lazy rhythm, picturing the way you’d look up at him through your lashes.

The way you’d suck, and flick your tongue across his swollen tip. He shivers as he swipes his thumb through the precum beading there, stroking it all the way back down, stuck on imagining what it would feel like with your saliva joining the mix.

A pleased, feminine hum of approval comes from his phone and Bradley’s body responds just as eagerly, his hips twitching into the thrust of his palm. Sweat beads at his forehead as he slows to the point of almost stopping, dragging this out — making a point of exploiting his time alone.

He blinks hazily and finds a glimpse of blue, remembering suddenly the souvenir he had taken. The pitiful scrap of fabric he’s so wound up over sits against his thigh, looking suddenly small in comparison to his cock. He lets himself go and grabs hold of the fabric firmly, balling it tightly in his fist.

The soft lace bristles at his palm. Freshly laundered, they don’t smell of anything but detergent. It plays to the weaker side of him, gnawing at him, leaving him desperate to have something beyond what’s in his head. To know your smell, your tastes, your sounds. He shudders as he wraps a hand snugly around himself once more, this time, with an added layer of lace and soft mesh.

His head falls backwards, mouth hanging. Like this, it’s even easier to pretend. The image of you straddling his thighs, rocking your pussy against him while wearing nothing but these has him finally relaxed. Zen, even. A groan dies in his through, coming out more as a deep and baited sigh. He lift his hips, fucking into his fabric tangled fist.

Sometime between picking up your panties and now, the video has moved on without him, the blowjob forgotten. If he was to open his eyes, he would find that she’s on her back, being fucked into a mattress. He doesn’t need to. Stars burst behind his eyelids as he steadies up to the rhythm of her moans, skin hitting skin.

You’ve been living here four months now and you haven’t stayed out once. He wonders if you’re as wound up as he is. If you’ve thought about him the way he thinks of you. How downright desperate you’d sound moaning against his pillows while he finally gets to feel you. His left hand jumps, grabbing a firm fistful of the sheets beside him.

The shame he feels has been checked at the door, he lets himself think that you might have looked at him, that you might want him. He chases the feeling, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. Pumping the blue mesh around his cock, imagining you rocking yourself on him. Something gentler, more spry. It feels good. You’d feel good.

His imagination is better than he gave himself credit for.

His wrist twitches and he slows, feeling his thighs tighten as his heels press into his mattress for leverage. He chokes out a sound that he won’t admit is closer to a whimper than anything else, panting hard as he lets the rush ebb a bit. Pursing his lips, he draws out a slow exhale.

His mouth hangs open, eyes dipping to watch himself loosen up with the material, finding himself with just his bare palm once again. He takes the blue fabric in his left, opening it up and examining the dampened marks of his precum and the lube.

Just like that, he’s back in the guest room — your room — and you’re wearing that blue set. It’s dampened like this, but not because he has made a mess of it, not yet. Because you have. You’re soaking through it, looking up at him with that awe-struck look on your face. Your mouth open wide but this time there’s no red popsicle.

“Fuck.”

“Shit.” You whisper, catching the diaper bag that had almost fallen from your shoulder as you cradle the sleeping infant against your chest. Quiet as a mouse, you click open the front door and toe off your shoes.

She’s dead-weight in your arms, probably drooling on your shoulder. Her two older siblings will be causing all kinds of mischief and consuming sugar in all of its forms at their cousin’s birthday party for the next three hours. Given that the party lines up almost exactly with the fifteen-month-old’s nap routine, you figured you would take her home to rest so that you could get around to putting away that laundry you had started.

You’ve got a thousand things on your mind. A million things to do before Bradley gets home that evening. Truthfully, you’re a thousand miles away as you stroll upstairs and walk to the far end of the hall to the nursery. You lay her down and adjust the baby monitor, setting up her white noise machine routinely.

Her bedroom door clicks shut behind you and you take a moment to consider your priorities. Laundry takes precedence, even though you want so desperately to crawl into bed and sleep for an hour. You huff, groaning to yourself as you walk back downstairs to find the basket you had abandoned.

As you round the stairs and walk through the hallway, a choked sound spills from under the wood of Bradley’s door, something deep and breathless. Already halfway to the kitchen, you don’t hear a thing.

The video stopped a while ago but Bradley had stopped watching it even earlier. His head is thrown back and his lips are parted, his features creased in concentration as he chases his high. He thrusts into his fist, white-knuckling your panties with his free hand, his heart thundering in his chest. “God, fuck.”

He doesn’t have a clue that he isn’t alone anymore. He didn’t hear the minivan, he didn’t hear the front door. He doesn’t hear you rush back up the stairs with the hamper hiked against your hip.

He walked in on you. He stopped, and he stared. You were interrupted, so you can’t blame him for slamming the door shut. He’d missed, or ignored the signals since. The looks, the touches, staying up with him until your eyelids are so heavy that they’re barely open because he’s kind of an insomniac. Nothing. You’ve been beyond curious, desperate to know if he has been blowing you off on purpose or if he’s just clueless.

Clueless yourself, armed to put away freshly folded t-shirts, you grab the door handle and push it open. He works late, always. He’s rarely home before bedtime on work days. He told you this morning that he’d try not to wake you when he came in. And yet — there he is.

You get a glimpse of him before he registers the click of the door, before he spots you. Brows furrowed, eyes screwed shut, his curls dampened and hugging his forehead. Sunlight catches on the beads of sweat as they trail his glistening middle, spilling across his strong, softened middle. Broad shoulders flexed, the veins in his right arm straining through the skin, fucking his palm.

He reacts quickly, but there’s little that can be done. His eyes spring open and his hand releases himself, his body flushing a deeper shade of red at once. Thighs spread, he doesn’t have much time to cover himself before the door whips shut again.

You press your back to the door, staring at the ceiling. On either sides of it, you each have a moment of silent consideration.

“… are you okay?” He asks weakly.

He gets a soft squeak of acknowledgement as an answer and starts to wonder how you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. God, he hopes you don’t quit. The kids love you, and you’re incredible, you make his life liveable. His mind races, trying to come up with some kind of way to fix what you just saw. Everyone masturbates, it’s normal, it’s healthy—

“Was— Was that my underwear?”

Shit, Bradley thinks, he’s done for. There’s no coming back from this. You’re going to tell every nanny in the state that he’s a creep and work is going to eat him alive while he tries to juggle three kids alone. He curses breathlessly, fixing his underwear to cover himself and pushing himself out of bed.

He’s stuck for a second, considering if it would be better to give you time or to go after you. His eyes widen as the door clicks again, and pushes slowly open.

Your eyes rake over him, standing tall at the foot of his bed in nothing but his boxer-briefs. Still, regrettably, balled into his left hand, is your underwear. Powder-blue. He follows your gaze and looks down at the fabric, cursing his own stupidity, wondering if it’s too late to drop them.

You wet your lips with your tongue as your gaze flickers across. He closes his eyes and wills it to go away — he had just been so close, so caught up in it. It’s still rock hard, straining against the grey fabric, dampened at the tip with a spot of precum.

All of those signals and efforts come to a head. After four months of pining, you can’t just wander downstairs like this never happened. Laundry can wait. “You want a hand?”

…

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#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #miles teller #bradley bradshaw smut #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster x you #dilf Bradley #bradley x the nanny #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley rooster Bradshaw smut #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #top gun: maverick smut

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