#the fuck does sabine have long hair for jesus

[what-does-the-moose-say]

The wikipedia page for ashoka is like being repeated run over by a truck. Ezra being described as a con artist (as if), Hera being played by Mary Elizabeth Winstead???? DAVID TENNANT WAS IN CLONE WARS

#i dont fuckings care she said as she watched the trailer and went to the wikipedia page #dont know how i feel about any of this #the fuck does sabine have long hair for jesus #i do mean star wars rebels is one of the best sw media after 1983 and i kinda really wish they would just let it go #that ambigious fan media post that goes around these days. prehaps. #it was a good ending #no need to touch #still feels it would better for the og voice actor for ashoka and just a stunt double tbh like they did with maul #also would have prefered a animated sequal #like i always knew they would came back but think it would be better for not live action. also #that hair. #sorry #also for the love of god just have that swedish guy as thrawn. god if they use a new actor for him to #star wars #ahsoka

[coeurvrai]

Bryce complains about the matching tattoos that she and Danika got while she was drunk. She mentions that because Danika is a fully-blooded shifter or Vanir, she heals faster than her, who is half-Vanir because she’s half-Fae. I still don’t know why she’s using Vanir, of all the terms, but this is what the world is now.

Danika wants to use the showers downstairs in the archives. 

“What is that on you?”

Danika scowled, the angular planes of her face scrunching. “I had to break up a fight between a satyr and a nightstalker.” She bared her white teeth at the black substance crusting her hands. “Guess which one spewed its juices onto me.”

Bryce snorted and gestured to the archives door. “Shower’s yours. There are some clean clothes in the bottom drawer of the desk down there.”

I love how Maas has that whole glossary in the front and then just throws in more creatures because why include them when you can just- not. Like we haven’t even met half of the species on that list and now we’re gonna have to add more to it. Also, is a nightstalker something else or is a nightstalker slang for a vampire, or “vampyr” in this case?

Also okay, the oil-y ammonia liquid on her is like blood or saliva or something. Then what the hell is the streaks of sapphires, amethysts, and roses?

Danika has a tattoo on her neck of a horned, grinning wolf that signifies that she is apart of the “Pack of Devils”. I am rolling my eyes and I am so sorry to 10 year old me and my obsession with wolves and werewolves. Apparently the sword Danika carries is famous. Bryce makes unrelated comments about the gallery’s generator.

Bryce had always wondered why Jesiba bothered with an old-fashioned generator—until the citywide firstlight outage last week. When the power had failed, only the generator had kept the mechanical locks in place during the looting that followed, when creeps had rushed in from the Meat Market, bombarding the gallery’s front door with counterspells to break through the enchantments.

Also maybe it’s just me and also the fact that I don’t live in a world full of fantasy creatures but I haven’t heard of people looting during power outages. But hey, Jesiba seems like the type of witch to lean towards old-fashioned practical solutions. Don’t fix it if it ain’t broken kind of deal.

Anyways, Bryce gets back on topic and infers that Danika is meeting with the people in charge of the city.

In the five years since they’d met as freshmen at Crescent City University, Bryce could count on one hand the number of times Danika had been called in for a meeting with the seven people important enough to merit a shower and change of clothes. Even while delivering reports to Danika’s grandfather, the Prime of the Valbaran wolves, and to Sabine, her mother, Danika usually wore that leather jacket, jeans, and whatever vintage band T-shirt wasn’t dirty.

Of course, it pissed off Sabine to no end, but everything about Danika—and Bryce—pissed off the Alpha of the Scythe Moon Pack, chief among the shifter units in the city’s Auxiliary.

Sabine or rather Sabina is a Roman name, I know that much. I am confused right now. She just mentioned that Danika is apart of “Pack of Devils”, is that just a nickname for the Scythe Moon pack or whatever? Also if Danika’s mum is the alpha, then what does that make her grandfather? What is a Prime? What are the Valbaran wolves? Is a Prime another word for city head? I am confusion.

Bryce goes on about Danika’s mother being her dad’s heir but Danika’s grandpa obviously favouring Danika by giving her the sword (that is a family heirloom) on her eighteenth birthday, over Danika’s mother. If you were wondering, Danika studied history with Bryce.

Danika turned, her caramel eyes shuttered. “Philip Briggs is being released today.”

Bryce started. “What?”

“They’re letting him go on some gods-damned technicality. Someone fucked up the paperwork. We’re getting the full update in the meeting.” She clenched her slim jaw, the glow from the firstlights in the glass sconces along the stairwell bouncing off her dirty hair. “It’s so fucked up.”

Bryce’s stomach churned. The human rebellion remained confined to the northern reaches of Pangera, the sprawling territory across the Haldren Sea, but Philip Briggs had done his best to bring it over to Valbara. “You and the pack busted him right in his little rebel bomb lab, though.”

There is something so comical to me about the phrase “she clenched her slim jaw”, like ah yes, it’s important that we know Danika has a slim jaw. But ofc we have humans rebelling because Maas lacks an original bone in her body. Also Valbara is the country/continent that they live on, I feel like that’s an important thing that should’ve been established in the map unless I’m just blind.

Danika tapped her booted foot on the green carpet. “Bureaucratic fucking nonsense.”

“He was going to blow up a club. You literally found his blueprints for blowing up the White Raven.” As one of the most popular nightclubs in the city, the loss of life would have been catastrophic. Briggs’s previous bombings had been smaller, but no less deadly, all designed to trigger a war between the humans and Vanir to match the one raging in Pangera’s colder climes. Briggs made no secret of his goal: a global conflict that would cost the lives of millions on either side. Lives that were expendable if it meant a possibility for humans to overthrow those who oppressed them—the magically gifted and long-lived Vanir and, above them, the Asteri, who ruled the planet Midgard from the Eternal City in Pangera.

But Danika and the Pack of Devils had stopped the plot. She’d busted Briggs and his top supporters, all part of the Keres rebels, and spared innocents from their brand of fanaticism.

THE HUMANS ARE OPPRESSED! THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED IN THE HISTORY OF ACOTAR’S WORLDBUILDING, JESUS FUCKING CHRIST.

Also I don’t trust Maas to write terrorists or terrorism with grace, tact, and a lot of respect. Like, literally look at ACOTAR and TOG.

And apparently there are something called the Asteri, which is completely different to the Vanir, and the Eternal City is not Crescent City but is also something completely different. Also climes is a word, Google tells me, and all I can think is just... there are so many other words you could’ve used.

As one of the most elite shifter units in Crescent City’s Auxiliary, the Pack of Devils patrolled the Old Square, making sure drunken, handsy tourists didn’t become drunken, dead tourists when they approached the wrong person. Making sure the bars and cafés and music halls and shops stayed safe from whatever lowlife had crawled into town that day. And making sure people like Briggs were in prison.

Jesus christ, this is like RWBY all over again, where the only Faunus shown fighting back against systematic oppression were terrorists or former terrorists. Also I don’t get what auxiliary means. Or rather, I know what auxiliary means, but I don’t know what it’s supposed to be. Is it supposed to be related to the Roman auxiliary? Or are they really backup support? Are they police?

Anyways, we get a HUGE exposition dumb right at the start of this page, and just holy fuck, there is such a thing as too much worldbuilding.

She would. Even if Danika had to snarl in Micah Domitus’s face, she’d get her point across. There weren’t many who’d dare piss off the Archangel of Crescent City, but Danika wouldn’t hesitate. And given that all seven Heads of the City would be at this meeting, the odds of that happening were high. Things tended to escalate swiftly when they were in one room. There was little love lost between the six lower Heads in Crescent City, the metropolis formally known as Lunathion. Each Head controlled a specific part of the city: the Prime of the wolves in Moonwood, the Fae Autumn King in Five Roses, the Under-King in the Bone Quarter, the Viper Queen in the Meat Market, the Oracle in the Old Square, and the River Queen—who very rarely made an appearance—representing the House of Many Waters and her Blue Court far beneath the Istros River’s turquoise surface. She seldom deigned to leave it.

The humans in Asphodel Meadows had no Head. No seat at the table. Philip Briggs had found more than a few sympathizers because of it.

But Micah, Head of the Central Business District, ruled over them all. Beyond his city titles, he was Archangel of Valbara. Ruler of this entire fucking territory, and answerable only to the six Asteri in the Eternal City, the capital and beating heart of Pangera. Of the entire planet of Midgard. If anyone could keep Briggs in prison, it would be him.

There’s so much to unpack here, I literally don’t know where to start. So Danika’s grandfather is in charge of all the wolf shifters in the country apparently. But what about all the other types of shifters? Are there only wolf shifters? Is it because wolf shifters are the most common? If there are only wolf shifters, why wouldn’t you just call them fucking werewolves or whatever? Especially when you’ve had shapeshifters in your previous series *cough* LYSANDRA *cough*

Also some of these sound like titles to be inherited, while others sound like epithets. Are all titles inherited or are some elected? Also Bryce sounds so unsympathetic towards the humans’ cause, when she herself is half-human. Does her being half human affect her in any shape or form? Is she discriminated against because of it? Does she feel othered by both humans and Fae? Is her being half-Human, half-Fae at all plot relevant?

And what the fuck are Asteri?

Anyways, assisting Lehabah in protecting the books in the archives downstairs is a chimera named Syrinx that Bryce’s boss purchased. Danika and Lehabah engage in some banter and Lehabah mentions that she doesn’t wear clothes because “they don’t pair well when you’re made of flame”.

... the phone on the desk began ringing. She had a good idea who it would be.

Heels sinking into the plush carpeting, Bryce reached the phone before it went to audiomail, sparing herself a five-minute lecture. “Hi, Jesiba.”

A beautiful, lilting female voice answered, “Please tell Danika Fendyr that if she continues to use the supply closet as her own personal locker, I will turn her into a lizard.”

Audiomail? What the fuck is wrong with voicemail? Why use audiomail? It doesn’t make your worldbuilding any richer.

Anyways, that’s the end of the first chapter. It’s Fendyr instead of Fendir, bc I guess so Maas can claim she isn’t entirely reusing names, even though Fendir is the name of one of the wyverns in TOG.

#sarah reads hoeab #sarah reads cc #anti ccity #anti sjm

[eeveedel]

Your tags in the louis for observer post OMG someone write a fic!!

lord jesus forgive me.

so, like, three-ish weeks ago, I reblogged this photoset. and in the tags, I wrote this: I LOVE THIS SINGLE FATHER OF FOUR MULTIBILLIONAIRE BUSINESS MOGUL WHO’S FUCKING THE NANNY

so like, um, I wrote about it. and it’s…a lot. but I hope all my sub harry hoes out there enjoy this one. (especially @hrrytomlinson, I promised this to you 5ever ago) 

this contains: nsfw content, daddy kink (welp), dom/sub overtones, subspace, and a lottttt of dirty talk. also, the kinks/negotiation are all off screen with this one, as it is an established relationship. please take care. also, unedited. you know the deal with my drabbles, they’re all a mess. idk just…fuck it man enjoy. 

—

Louis heard the car pull up in the driveway a half hour before he was expecting it.

Normally, he’d be upstairs in his sound-proofed-to-all-hell office, where nothing in the world could bother him save for a direct knock on the door that surely signaled the end of the world, since there was no other reasonable excuse to disturb Louis in his office.

But today, he was at smallest dining table – out of a total of three – in the house, enjoying the sunshine that bled through the long French windows that lined the back end of the house. He had his afternoon work spread out in front of him, a glass of lemonade spiked with something  sitting next to his elbow, and he had his two handhelds on silent for the next hour.

Nothing could disturb him, except for the sound of tires on the back driveway just outside.

Louis sighed and stood up, tilting his neck to the side to hear the bones crack back into place. He grabbed his drink and then went to the window, gazing out past the pool and to the back garden gate. The gate hadn’t opened yet, but he could see movement over the fence.

It was a short walk from the back door to the garden’s walkway. He would meet them.

He went out, smiling as the sun hit his face. It got in his eyes, but he just squinted against it and took a moment to sip his drink as he listened to the noise in the driveway. The squeak of trainers against the pavement, the sound of high voices and one very deep one.

“Alright, alright,” the deep voice chuckled, “Come here, my little duckies. Line up.”

Louis smiled again to himself and kept his eyes closed as he heard more trainers-on-the-pavement noises. He could picture the four little figures in his mind shifting and lining up patiently, ready to listen.

“Harry,” one voice piped up, “I think left my clarinet in the shop.”

“No, darling, I have it right here,” the deep voice answered, “Your reeds are getting old, too, we’ll go to the music shop tomorrow, alright?”  

“Oh, yes, thank you!”

“You’re welcome, my love. Does everyone else have all their things out of the car?”

There were some voices of agreement, a pleased coo in return, and then more feet were moving, and Louis finally opened his eyes and made himself walk forward, down the garden’s walkway.

As the back gate became unlatched, he took a moment to observe everything in the few seconds he had before the people coming inside saw him.

All his daughters were in a tight little knot as they tumbled through the garden, chattering to each other and pulling each other along by their hands. Olivia had her sticker-covered clarinet case in her hand, her good music practice skirt hopelessly wrinkled. Her twin, Clara, trailed next to her, like always, her hair in a complicated braid only she would have the energy to sit through being done . Jessica was running after them, wearing Clara’s hand-me-down purple glittery trainers that were falling to pieces but she still insisted on wearing. Ella, who was five now and perfectly capable of walking on her own, was being carried, wearing a Princess Leia t-shirt over her green tutu, her thumb contentedly in her mouth as her cheek rested on the shoulder of her protector.

Louis loved his family, he did. He was lucky that he and Bebe had settled their marriage on good terms and their divorce was smooth, smooth enough that he had more than enough time with his girls during his custody months in the summer and then on his allotted holidays.  But he certainly didn’t get many days he got to beat them coming home and could greet them at the door.

But damn it if he wasn’t distracted every time they came home.

Because Harry was there, holding Ella so carefully in one arm and carrying a bag full of Nanny Things in his other hand. He was wearing a Britney Spears shirt tonight, because of course he was, with his loose fitting jeans and his black and white trainers. It was his “casual” outfit, his “corralling four girls who were nine years old and under” outfit. And yet he still sported gaudy, costume-worthy rings and a fresh coat of red nail polish.  

Clara noticed Louis first, and shrieked as she broke away from holding hands with Olivia as he sprinted towards the walkway.

“Papa!” she yelled, and Louis smiled and knelt down, taking care to set his glass aside on the grass before she crashed into his arms.

“Hello, my little Curie,” he smiled and kissed her forehead, and then opened up his other arm as Olivia came in for a hug, “And my little Sabine.”

He eventually tried to get to his feet, making them step back.

“Did you all have a good day?” he smiled, and then easily reached down to ruffle Jessica’s hair when she came up and grabbed his leg, demanding her own bit of attention. She was still small enough he could quickly grab her under her armpits, lift her up, and kiss the top of her head before setting her down. It made her giggle, and he smiled as he smoothed down her hair.

Then, Louis finally lifted his head and caught Harry’s eyes. The younger man just smiled softly back at him.

“Mr. Tomlinson, hello,” he said, “I didn’t know you’d be home early.”

“I thought I’d get out of the office,” Louis shrugged, “What’s the point in owning a company if you can’t work from home now and again, hm?”

Harry just nodded, and Ella lifted her head, blinking sleepily at Louis, a firm look on her face.

“Papa,” he murmured, and Harry laughed as Louis easily stepped forward, accepting his youngest from Harry’s arms.

“Hi, little love,” he said, kissing her cheek and bouncing her slightly so he could re-adjust her on his hip. He turned back to Harry, who was patiently waiting in the grass as Louis tended to all of his girls.

“You can go home early tonight if you’d like, Harry, I can cook dinner.”

“No, Harry, please stay!” Olivia immediately said, “You don’t have to go, do you?”

“Now, darling,” Louis sighed, brushing his hand over her head, “It’s Friday. I’m sure Harry has friends he’d like to go see tonight, hm?”

“Actually, no, I can stay,” Harry said, “I can help cook, and I can stay for dinner. And I promised Clara I would help her with her science fair project.”

“A science fair project in summer, hm?” Louis said, turning to Clara, “Did my little genius not want to tell me?”

“I was going to tell you, Papa!” she said, her eyes going wide as she looked up at him.  

“Mm, but you told Harry first, hm,” he hummed, “Is Harry your favorite, then?”

Her eyes went even wider and she started to stutter out something, but Louis just laughed and braced Ella in his arms so he could bend down and kiss her forehead.

“That’s alright if he is,” he smiled, “Harry’s quite lovely, I think so, too.”

Louis cut a quick glance to the other man, who had his lips pressed together in a poor attempt at hiding a smile, his cheeks flushed a lovely pink. Louis smiled back at him and then straightened up, finally setting Ella down on the grass.

“Alright, go on in,” he said, “The sooner we go in, the sooner we can eat.”

“Can’t we swim before dinner, Papa?” Jessica asked, and Harry’s voice piped out from behind Louis.

“You all heard your father. Go inside. I’m sure we’ll find something you can help with.”

Jessica didn’t even fight him, just looked over at him, pouted for one second, and then started a trudge towards the back door that almost made Louis laugh.

He glanced over his shoulder, mouthed “Thank you” at his nanny, and then followed his daughters inside.

He could hear Harry’s footsteps close behind him.

_

Dinner was over at six thirty, but between Harry helping Clara with her homework, Louis listening to Olivia play her new clarinet piece in the living room, Harry running coconut oil through the hopelessly knotted hair of one of Jessica’s American Girl dolls, and both of them giving Ella a bath, dinner didn’t get cleaned up until long after that.

At eight, Louis asked Harry if he could clean up, and of course he said yes and scurried downstairs. Louis went to Ella’s room, read her a story, and tucked her in and made sure her nightlight was turned on. He knocked on Jessica’s door and reminded her she had another half hour to stay up, and then he went to the twins’ room and told them they had an hour, and their lights needed to be off when he checked on them next. Then he went to his office, did another hour of work, and at nine thirty finally got up, stretched, and went down the hall.

All the lights in their bedrooms were off, so they were either behaving or reading under the covers with a flashlight. He had good girls, but he also had smart girls, and honestly he wasn’t going to protest Clara staying up to read another book on the moon or volcanos if that’s what she wanted to do.

He went down the steps, and followed the soft sound of running water into the kitchen.

Harry was stood at the sink, in a pair of rubber gloves and his casual clothes, the water running as he scrubbed up. It must have taken him awhile to put all the leftovers in the fridge and scrub every plate and glass, because he was just now getting to the pots and baking trays.

Louis came up behind him, and Harry didn’t flinch he Louis set a hand on his back, between his shoulder blades.

“Hello,” Louis hummed, and kissed Harry behind the ear.

“Hi,” Harry murmured back.

“Did you have a nice day?” Louis asked. He slid his hand over Harry’s slender hip and he sighed.

“It was alright. I’m tired.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. The girls are wonderful, just a lot,” Harry shrugged, and kept scrubbing the plate in front of him. Louis took his wrist and pulled on it, kissing his neck.

“That’s enough of that.”

“I need to clean.”

“I’ll do it in the morning,” Louis said, “I can clean up for myself. I’m a divorcee.”

Louis kissed his neck firmly again and this time Harry sighed and pulled back. He took his washing up gloves off and set them on the side of the sink, and then grabbed a flannel to dry his hands a bit more before he turned back to Louis.

“Here,” Louis reached in his pocket and pulled out an envelope, “Your payment for the week.”

Harry reached for it, turned it over, and then squinted at Louis.

“The envelope’s a little thick, don’t you think?” Harry said, and Louis sighed.

“Open it, alright.”

He did, and flushed when he looked inside. The envelope had his weekly check, alongside a long chain, capped with a little bejeweled tiger head. Louis had taken Harry on an outing with the girls the other day, feigning that he needed some extra help. While they were in town, Harry’s eyes had strayed for a moment to the window of some designer jewelry shop, for just a second. Of course Louis had noticed, and put the shop on his errands list for the next day.

“You need to return this,” Harry said.

“You like it.”

“Yes, but you need to return it.”

“Darling – “

“How much did it cost?” Harry said, “Hm?”

Louis sighed and shook his head.

“It was fifteen hundred pounds.”

Harry just blinked at him, and then promptly sealed up the envelope and gave it back to him.

“I can’t take that,” he said, “You give me a thousand a week and that’s already too much. If you want to give me the necklace, you have to take the check back.”

“But you can’t pay your rent or your groceries with a necklace,” Louis said, “And I’d rather not have you pawn it. I’d like to see you wearing it.”

Harry scoffed, “What else would you like from me, while you’re at this again?”

Louis wanted to groan. But he couldn’t. So he breathed in deeply and reached up, settling his hand on Harry’s hip again. He didn’t pull away.

“You know what I’d like, Harry,” he sighed, “I want you to move into my house and out of that student flat you’re too old for. I want you to become another father to my children, which quite frankly you already are. I want to take you to my company parties and all my trips and things. And as you know, I mostly want to spoil you.  I want your bank account to become my bank account, so you can buy all the nice things you want instead of refusing them when I give them to you.”

“I’m not a sugar baby,” Harry said, “I want to work for my income.”

“I can still help you.”

Harry shook his head.

“Let me find a job first,” he said, “Something outside of this one. And then you can do all that.”

“Alright,” Louis said. He held up his hands, smiling, “Whatever you’d like.”

Harry’s lips twitched, and his eyes moved to the envelope in Louis’s hand.  

“Can you put it on me?” he asked, his voice unbearably soft. But Louis still heard it.

“You’re keeping it, then.”

“Let me try it on and see how I like it first.”

Louis grinned and opened the envelope back up. He took the necklace out of the envelope and unlatched it, then lifted it up and locked it around Harry’s neck. The boy kept his neck tilted forward, and then looked up at Louis once the clasp was done. Harry was tall, gangly, and bigger than Louis, but he was so curled up that he still managed to look up at him through his lashes.

“That looks lovely on you, darling,” Louis said, even though his eyes weren’t straying down to the chain, but staying on Harry’s eyes. He lifted a hand, brushing it over Harry’s temple, “What does my sweet boy have to say to that, hm?”

Harry inhaled sharply, his gaze flicking away for just a moment. When he looked back, he looked softer, his eyes brighter.

“Thank you for the present, Daddy.”

Louis smiled so much he could fucking feel himself beaming. Harry smiled back, but he was shyer, more careful now.

Harry always became a little different when he used that one word.

“There’s my sweet boy,” Louis smiled, and then held out a hand to brush it over Harry’s cheek, “You look pretty today, darling. I like your outfit.”

Harry snorted.

“Do you really?”

“Yes.”

“I have ice cream stains on these jeans.”

“Hm. Doesn’t matter.”

Louis kissed Harry’s cheek and stroked his sides.

“Do you want to stay over tonight?” Louis asked, “I’m sure the girls would love to wake up tomorrow and have you cook them French toast.”

“The girls would be excited, would they.”

“Uh huh,” Louis said. He squeezed Harry’s hips pointedly, “So?”

Harry sighed, and reached a hand up to rub Louis’s arm, over the curve of his bicep.

“I want a shower.”

Louis smiled and pinched Harry’s hip, making him squeak.

“You know where it is.”

“Daddy,” Harry groaned, “Daddy, don’t tease. You know what I mean.”

“Do I?” Louis said, “Because, in the past, when you want to take a shower in my house, you just take one, and don’t tell me before hand. But when you want me to fuck you in the shower, you usually tell me explicitly that you want a shower.”

Harry tried his best to glare at Louis. It wasn’t quite working.

“Am I close?” Louis asked.

“You’re terrible,” Harry murmured, “But. Please.”

Louis just smiled again and then backed up, giving Harry room to squeeze out from between Louis’s body and the counter.

“Go run some water,” Louis said, “I bought you the body wash you like.”

“The thirty-five pound body wash?”

“Baby,” Louis said firmly, and it was enough to make Harry’s eyes flash, “I’ll be there in a minute.”

Harry just gave him one last minute and then padded out of the kitchen, leaving Louis with a sink full of half-washed dishes and at least a few minutes to kill.

-

Harry had come to Louis’s door when he was 19. He was an awkward thing then, all long limbs that folded up wrong, sun-darkened skin and fuchsia pink lips and hair that was quiffed too high.

Louis had called for a personal nanny in a private ad, and most of the applicants had been over sixty, retired teachers and pastor’s wives. Nothing wrong with them, but they admitted their energy wasn’t what it used to be. Back then, the twins were five, Jessica was three, and Ella was one and not out of diapers. He needed someone with energy to spare. Especially when Louis’s divorce was fresh and he was still getting used to being on his own. He needed someone for his girls, but more than he admitted, he needed someone for himself. Someone to make sure the house didn’t fill up with un-recycled newspapers and that the only thing in Louis’s cabinets wasn’t cereal.

It had been his first summer with his girls, alone, and he was drowning.

When Harry had shown up for an interview, the boy practically threw Louis a raft. He was shy, and he had said he was going to study psychology, and that he wanted to be a social worker, maybe, so he liked children. He had had babysitting jobs growing up, more than his sister. His steady summer job back then had been as a children’s swim instructor.

“That’s why I’m so tan,” Harry had laughed, and then awkwardly looked down at the ice water Louis had poured him, like it was something he shouldn’t have admitted.

But Louis had smiled. He liked the kid. He had asked him if he shared his children’s interests – or, rather, if he would be willing to listen to the works of a plastic recorder, play with a children’s chemist set, and make up stories with dolls of every variety. Harry had smiled. He had done it all before. He could make puppets. He knew exactly when every children’s program came on the TV. He knew the best places to get ice cream in town.

Harry had been perfect then, and four years later, he was still perfect.

Louis didn’t hire Harry because he was attracted to him.

He was, of course, from the minute Harry cracked his first bad joke. Louis was exactly ten years and two months older than Harry, but Harry had also been an adult the entire time he’d known Louis, so there was nothing wrong with him finding him pretty.

More than pretty. Beautiful. Louis found Harry fucking beautiful.

He had found him beautiful the first time Louis had come home and found Harry out by the pool with the girls, making sure they were all in their water wings and staying in the shallow end, being a perfect mother duck, and he had been in a microscopic pair of white swim shorts.

He found him beautiful the second summer, when Harry had grown his hair out and wore it up in scarfs he had gotten from thrift shops for two pounds each. That summer, Harry had managed to get Louis tipsy on white wine, and they had kissed on the deck, Harry nearly in his lap.

Louis found him beautiful when he fucked him two weeks later, and then the next week, when Harry had whined out “Daddy, please” so easily.

Now, Harry was his boyfriend. That’s what he considered them, and Harry agreed. It had been that way since that second summer. Harry wasn’t seeing anyone else, and neither was Louis, and neither of them wanted to. During the off-months, when the girls were in America with Bebe, Louis took Harry out to dinner and to nice hotel rooms for weekends away and sometimes just asked him to come over so they could sit in Louis’s big, empty house and listen to music and split a bottle of wine.

Maybe it was irresposinible to pay his boyfriend. But Harry was a good nanny, and he wanted a job, so Louis paid him to be a nanny. He never paid him to be a boyfriend, and he made it clear that Harry could break it off anytime and he was still welcome to look after the girls.

“Don’t ever say that again,” Harry had said, entirely too seriously, when Louis had told him that, “I am not going to leave you.”

So they were boyfriends, and they weren’t going to break up.

Which was convenient, because Louis was getting to the age where he liked plans, and one of his plans was to marry Harry. He hadn’t told the other man yet, but, it would come up eventually.

Louis thought about that was he wandered into his bathroom, already feeling the heat of steam and hearing pounding water. One day, he wouldn’t have to ask Harry to stay over. He would live here. This would be their life.

It made him smile as he settled a hand on the glass door of the shower and opened it, blinking against the cloud of steam. Harry was standing under the stream of water, his back turned to Louis. But when the shower door clicked, signaling Louis had arrived, he shifted slightly, his body curling, his hands coming lifting, crossing, grabbing his own biceps. He rubbed his hands up and down and turned his head, casting his eyes down to the tile floor. Posing. He was fucking posing.

Louis came into the shower and settled a hand on Harry’s arm, over his own fingers, and kissed the long slope of his neck. His lips touched metal.

“Baby,” Louis said, “Baby, turn around.”

Harry did, shifting easily to turn and face him. His hair was nearly black with water, and plastered to all sides of his face, his eyes were big and framed with equally dark lashes. Louis looked down, his eyes falling on the flashing jewel that laid at Harry’s throat, droplets falling onto the charm.

“Wore your present into the shower, hm?” Louis asked, kissing Harry’s neck.

“Yes,” the other man sighed. His voice was all breath. Gone. So gone.

“I thought you’d like it,” Louis said against Harry’s skin. He grabbed onto Harry’s soft, bare hips, and pushed, until the other boy was back against the tile wall. Harry was bigger than him, and stronger, too, but Louis knew he was going to stay put.

“But then again,” Louis said, “You like everything I get for you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Harry said again, then amended, “Yes, Daddy.”

“Thought so,” Louis said, “You love getting presents. Love being Daddy’s spoiled brat, huh.”

Harry inhaled weakly, and his body seemed to uncoil, so Louis gripped his hips harder so he wouldn’t fall under his weakening knees.

“Is that a yes?” Louis said, and Harry didn’t respond, just breathed out again.

Louis smacked Harry’s hip lightly, enough to get his attention.

“Give Daddy a real answer.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry immediately breathed out, and it was enough for Louis to coo and kiss his cheek.

“I’m not angry, precious,” he said, “I’d just like an answer.”

Harry swallowed, and Louis watched his Adam’s apple dance under his skin, above the expensive gold charm.

“Yes,” he said softly.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I like being a spoiled brat, Daddy,” Harry said in a rush. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the tile, his body completely unfurled. He was somewhere else now. Harry was sweet, but he was stubborn. He had a type-A personality, and he liked to control things as best he could. That’s why he was good at his job.

But when they played, it was like all that disappeared. Harry abandoned any part of him that needed to be in control of the plan, that wanted a say in things, and apparently, that didn’t want Louis to spoil him.

Louis smoothed his hand over Harry’s skin, over his waist and belly, and kissed his lax lips.

“Thank you, precious,” Louis murmured, “Can I touch you?”

“Yes, please,” Harry said, his voice nearly breaking.

Louis smiled as Harry opened his eyes and looked at him and he brought his hand down between Harry’s legs. His thighs were nearly touching, his legs squeezed down like he was trying to be modest, but his legs easily opened when Louis’s fingers came down. He cupped Harry’s balls in one hand and gave them the softest squeeze that still made Harry cry out high.

If Louis hadn’t sound-proofed his bedroom and en suite as soon as he learned how loud could get, he would be worried that the rest of his family could hear them.

But they were safe, so he let his boy pant and cry out and twist his hips. Louis lifted a hand, stroking Harry’s cock lightly.

“Can you come from this, darling?” Louis asked, and Harry nodded quickly, his mouth opening and closing weakly.

“Interesting,” he said, “Would think a brat like you would want more than a wank in the shower.”

“No,” Harry said, “No, no, love your hands. Want anything you want to give me.”

Louis hummed, looking steadily into his boy’s eyes. He couldn’t resist leaning forward and giving him another kiss on the lips.

“What a good boy,” he sighed against Harry’s mouth. He felt Harry’s lips quirk up in a smile at the praise.

Louis twisted his wrist, continuing to wank Harry off, and he felt Harry’s exhaled breath brush over his own mouth. Louis was hard as a damn rock, but he wasn’t going to touch. Not yet. He had plans.

“I wonder what your favorite present is,” Louis wondered aloud as he kept wanking Harry. His touch was becoming faster, rougher, “Is it that jacket I got you from Italy?”

“I love that jacket, Daddy,” Harry said softly.

“I know, sweetheart, but is it your favorite?”

“I – “

“Or, what about your rings? You like the rings I buy you, don’t you?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Your Prada sunglasses? Your boots from France? Your YSL lipstick?” Louis listed off. He ran his free thumb over Harry’s bottom lip at that last word, “I miss that lipstick, by the way.”

Harry groaned away, and Louis clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“All of that, and it’s still not your favorite present I’ve bought for you?”

Harry shook his head, and when he exhaled, it was weak. His cock was hot and hard in Louis’s hand, his head leaking steadily. It wouldn’t take long at all.

“Is it something a little more…” Louis trailed off and tilted his head, making Harry open his eyes again and look at him, “Intimate?”

Harry’s eyes flared, and Louis smiled and kissed his nose.

“I see,” he said, “I bet it’s that silk teddy I got you. The pink one. You looked so pretty in that.”

“Um.”

“Or it could be any of the things I’ve gotten you. One of your skirts or your stockings or your little bras. You have a whole drawer of them, lots to pick from.”

Harry was squirming, gasping. Louis was admittedly pulling him off quite hard.

He leaned in, pressing his body closely to Harry. His own neglected cock slide against his own fist as he wanked his boyfriend.

“I can stand here and name every plug, toy, and pair of clamps I’ve bought for you. Because there are many. You’re very bad at turning presents down, you know.”

He twisted his wrist hard, and then leaned down and nipped at Harry’s ear.

“Brat,” he breathed against Harry’s ear, and Harry…

Harry screamed, and then he came, all over Louis’s hand and their bellies. The water was quick to splatter over the mess, sending it down the drain, and Louis kissed Harry quickly.

“Good boy,” he breathed, “Good, good boy.”

Harry opened his watery, wide eyes and blinked up at Louis. He was slouched down low enough he could look up at him.

“I – “ he croaked, “I didn’t tell you my favorite present.”

“Okay,” Louis said, “Tell me.”

Harry didn’t say anything. He just dropped to his knees, right there on the hard tile, without being prompted.

Louis had hoped for that, but once they were dry and on soft, carpeted floors.

“Darling, your knees,” Louis said, but Harry was grabbing onto his hips, pulling him close. His mouth was opening, ready to give Louis an answer.

For a moment, Louis thought Harry was going to reach low levels of bad dirty talk and say Louis’s cock was his favorite present.

But instead, he rubbed a thumb over Louis’s hip, and even though he knew what Harry was touching, he still looked down.

He had Harry’s name inked in cursive here, enclosed in a little heart. It was cheesy, and maybe he had been drunk when he had gotten it, but he loved having it and he loved when Harry touched it.

He looked down at his boy, when met his eyes in turn.

“That’s your favorite present?” Louis said, and Harry nodded.

“Oh, darling,” Louis cooed, “I love you so much.”

Harry smiled, his big eyes nearly glittering.

It had been close to five years having this boy around constantly and Louis still had to convince himself that Harry wasn’t a cruel hallucination.

“Now suck Daddy’s cock.”

Well. The moment had to end sometime.

Harry lunged forward eagerly and took Louis into his mouth like he had done a million times before. His mouth was firm and insistent, his tongue exploring the underside of Louis’s length. Perfect. So fucking perfect.

As much slipped from his lips, and Harry moaned happily around Louis’s cock. Louis reached up, tugging his fingers through Harry’s short curls. He had been more upset than he should have been when Harry cut his hair last summer. But he was getting used to it, slowly.

“Going to buy you a tiara,” Louis said, “One with real diamonds. You can wear it when I fuck you.”

Harry groaned again, much less happy this time and much more desperate.

“You like that? ‘Course you do. Daddy’s princess.”

Harry groaned again. The whole time, his mouth was working on Louis’s prick. It felt so good, because of course it did. Harry knew Louis’s body better than Louis did. Fuck, his ex-wife and he had four children together and Louis didn’t know what sex could be until he met Harry.

Maybe that was excessive. But his brain was pretty damned fogged up. That would certainly explain what was spilling out of his mouth at the moment.

“Spoil my baby fucking rotten. Cover you in diamonds and pearls, silk and velvet. Take you all around the world, feed you all the best foods. World at your fucking feet. And you’ll still get on your knees when Daddy tells you to.”

Harry’s entire face was wet, but there were very clearly tears coming out of Harry’s eyes as he sucked him off.

“Darling, are you okay?” Louis managed. Harry lifted a fist, offering a thumbs up, and pressed his thumb to Louis’s hip, as if he was making sure Louis saw it.

“Okay, thank you,” Louis said, and Harry dropped his thumb. Louis’s belly felt hot and tight, and he was close, he knew he was. Which was good, because then Harry could lift himself off the hard tile floor.

He could let himself go and call it a night. But he didn’t.

“Pull off so Daddy can come on your face,” he said, and in an instant, Harry’s mouth was slipping off him. His boy sat back on his heels, his mouth brilliant red and hanging up, his eyes closed already.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Louis made quick work of tugging himself off, and Harry had already done such a magnificent job that it didn’t take long for him to be coming. Harry still sat, so patient and beautiful, and barely flinched when Louis’s cum splattered over his mouth, his cheeks, a bit splattering over his right eye, getting caught in his eyelashes. He groaned softly when it hit there. Louis was going to slip and brain himself on the tile over this boy.

When his release was over, he reached up, gently moving Harry’s face until it was pointed directly into the shower spray, so the water would wash off his face for him. The other man just groaned lightly and let Louis do it. And then he let him pull him back onto his wobbly, clumsy feet. And he let Louis kiss him.

“Baby,” Louis said, and Harry smiled.

“Daddy,” he said, stressing each syllable like he was sounding it out for the first time.

“Let’s get you dry,” Louis said. He reached behind him and shut off the water, and then reached out and pushed on the shower door until it opened. Harry blinked open his eyes, lazily and sleepily like he’d just gotten up from a nap, and smiled at Louis guided him outside.

Louis barely dried himself off. It didn’t matter. He wanted to spend all his time on his boy. He rubbed lotion on his feet and legs, rubbed his hair and skin completely dry with a soft towel, applied a moisturizer infused with rose petals onto Harry’s face. He wished he was strong enough to carry Harry to his room, but he wasn’t, so he settled for Harry trailing behind him, holding his hand.

Louis got Harry something to wear to bed once his boy was on the bed. He normally went bare, but not after scenes. So Louis got him one of his own uni t-shirts that reached Harry’s midriff, and a soft pair of white cotton briefs. He helped him put them on, and then kept a hand on Harry’s bare belly as he laid beside him and kissed him. Harry smiled the whole time they were kissing, and reached up, holding onto Louis’s hips.

“I love you so much,” Louis said firmly, “You are the most precious thing to me.”

“Fifth most precious,” Harry said, and Louis sighed.

“Yes. Most precious after my girls,” Louis allowed, “Give Daddy a kiss.”

It was cheesy. God, he knew it was. But Harry still smiled and gave him a soft kiss on the lips, one that made Louis’s insides feel like gold being melted down.

“I love you,” Harry said gently, “I love you when you’re Louis, I love you when you’re Daddy.”

Louis laughed weakly and kissed his boyfriend’s forehead.

“And I love you both times,” he said.

Harry pressed himself to Louis’s throat, his breath brushing over his neck. Louis settled one arm around Harry’s middle, the other on the back of his neck, so his fingers could toy with the chain of Harry’s newest gift.

“Thank you,” Harry said against Louis’s skin, “Thank you for being so good to me.”

He wasn’t sure if he meant the sex, or the presents, or the domination, or the quiet nights it was just them, two bodies in one house or bed, nowhere to be and no one to answer to but each other.

It didn’t matter, really, because by the time Louis could say, “You’re welcome, baby” Harry was fast asleep against his neck.

He was a sound, regimented sleeper no matter what. But sub space knocked him right now every time.

Louis smiled as he closed his eyes, a warm body draped over his neck, the promise of a lazy morning and Harry’s banana-stuffed, blueberry-drizzled French Toast awaiting him when the sun came up.

It was a beautiful summer day with the family he had taken thirty-three years to make.

As Louis came close to dozing off himself, he fingered Harry’s bare left ring finger absently, and wondered how far they will have made it by next summer.

#larry fanfic #larry fanfiction #drabbles #I've had this idea forever #wow um sorry mom #sorry pastor robert #sorry mom again #Anonymous #ask