#(all they do is mow the grass through there)

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

!!!!!!!!

The bamboo is spreading

[coquettepascal]

frosted kisses

pt. ii to texas sweet

summary: after some serious distance, a nightmarish evening at the miller household leaves you and joel closer than before.

tags: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, fingering, pulling out, missionary, almost oral, joel is a consent king, gentle!joel, soft!joel, proud dad joel returns, tommy is here, so are sarah and ellie, don't ask how old they are i really can't tell you, tension, sexual tension, kind of angst(?), realistic sex, reader is in a panic as usual, but joel is really sweet, kissing, neck kisses, biting, scratching, mention of joel's dad gut (yum), joel in a wifepleaser, use of darlin' and baby and honey, one use of good girl, praise kink (a little), takes place during july (texas sweet was in june)

a/n: thank you to my biggest cheerleaders @mochamadeleines and @pascalssbabyy <3 also thank you to everyone for being so patient for this sequel. i hope you all enjoy !! :]

wc: 7.6k (sorry :3)

It is way too hot outside to be doing anything but laying in an ice bath, yet here you are leaving at 9am for your shift. The walk to the bus stop isn’t bad, but it does mean you have to walk by Joel’s house.

Joel.

He never followed through on that promise of taking you out for dinner, but it’s only been a month since that night. The two of you had been friendly in passing, since it’s hard to avoid one another, but you can see the avoidance in his eyes. A little while ago you looked up when “neighbours day” was, remembering how he said to let him know. But, it turns out that’s all the way in May, and it’s currently July… So. 

So you’ve been avoiding each other a little. That’s fine, it was a weird situation for the two of you to find yourselves in. You stared at Joel’s grey-blue truck when it rolled back down the street that night, the headlights flashing yellow on your walls. The hand resting on your chin still smelled like him, like his dick. 

Honestly, everything on you smelled like him for a little while, your shirt especially, but also your skin. Joel wouldn’t leave you alone, even though he physically was. Watching him from your window started to become an obsession, seeing the sweat soak through his t-shirt when he’d mow the lawn on the weekends. You couldn’t stop watching him, remembering how needy he was.

Your achy need for him was a constant at night, only competing for dominance over your mind by wondering how needy Joel was.

Nothing could drive the memory of his whimpers and groans out of your mind, the throb of his cock in your hand, and the way his hands twitched and grasped at nothing when he came. It would attack you at random times throughout the day, especially when you were on the bus coming home from work. Most of your days are boring, repetitive. The same texts from your mom, the same job, the same… everything. Joel was the most exciting thing for you, but that was short lived. It was just one evening.

It’s kind of fucked up how you just have to move on, sweaty palmed every morning as you pass by Joel’s house. It isn’t even like he’s home when you walk by, he starts work at around 8am. You would know because Tommy’s truck is noisy as all hell, it works great as a last minute alarm. 

Or at least he isn’t usually home. 

“Mornin’ darlin,” calls Joel as you step off your porch. 

His voice is just as warm and sweet as ever, like the sun today if it were kinder, but there’s an extra cheerful lilt in it. Turning your head, you see Joel still in his pajamas. It’s a weekday, so that’s odd, but what’s more odd is that he’s hanging balloons outside. 

A light grey wife pleaser stretches around his torso, showing off his thick arms and shoulders. This is not something you’ve seen Joel wear before, but he must have slept in it if the plaid pajama pants are anything to go by. 

It’s the polite thing to do to go over there and say hello, right? That’s what your mom would want you to do, to be neighborly. You’re not going over there to check him out. That would be crazy.

Crossing the grass from your house to his is easy, but spit is all caught in your throat by the time you get over to him. Jesus, are you drooling? 

“Hi Joel,” you manage to reply to his greeting as he tapes another balloon up to the overhang of his garage, “what are the balloons for?”

He grunts as he twists to fix the tape, the balloon nearly falling on his head. The way he’s stretching up is making the wife pleaser stretch up, exposing the skin of his waist. Your fingers twitch, wanting to touch there again. It makes your mind spin, thinking about how your hands have been there, that he knows what it’s like to have you on him. An explicit secret that neither of you share. You wish he was facing the other way so you could see his tummy, the plushness of it was so comfy against your arm.

“S’for Sarah,” he finally responds, turning to face you. 

And oh… oh that’s why he’s so damn happy. He had talked about it in passing a few times during the small talk you had made. Sarah’s birthday was in July and she planned on coming home for it, Joel was so bright everytime he talked about it. His smile is so much bigger when he talks about his daughters.

“Is she coming home today?” You ask, shifting on your feet. Joel nods, tearing off another piece of tape with his teeth.

“Uh-huh, pickin’ her up around noon. We’re doin’ a dinner tonight,” he says. You can see how his eyes are a little unfocused, excited. He sticks the tape to the knot of the balloon and starts to continue his sentence, but is cut off by the front door opening.

The sound catches your attention, your eyes flicking to the door. You didn’t see his truck in the driveway, but there’s Tommy Miller in all his glory.

You won’t lie to yourself, the Miller family clearly has good genetics. Tommy’s got these gorgeous waves in his black hair, and a charming smile too. But, he isn’t nearly as soft as Joel is. Not a player, but Joel’s been worn in by 2 daughters and a divorce, like a well loved plushie. Tommy hasn’t been worn in by anything, in fact he’s known for wearing things out. As much as you’ve heard the whispers at neighborhood events, the other Miller brother has never interested you. Tommy, of course, has shown interest in you once or twice. A few bottles in and he’ll talk to anything.

Today though, Tommy is behaving. He flashes you a kind smile, and nods.

“Hey neighbor-girl,” he greets.

You almost snort. You know Tommy knows your name, but he’s being weird. Did Joel tell him? Probably not. Do brothers share that sort of information? You’re getting sweaty again–

“Saw the flowers y’bought Ole Joel,” Tommy grins, “thought maybe his ex’d dropped by.”

Oh. Oh thank god. Thank god the flowers gave it away.

Joel snorts and then scowls at Tommy, shaking his head. He mutters something about you “having a name,” and suddenly all you can hear is the blood in your veins. A hot rush flies over you, but you’re flushed from the sun anyways. What difference will a blush make? It’s not that obvious. 

Distracted with your anxiety around the two, you barely realize that Tommy is scolding Joel now.

“S’nice girl gave you flowers and y’ain’t even invited her to the dinner tonight?” Tommy scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. Your eyes flash to his arms and Jesus does being brothers mean you’re both built as fuck? 

“Tommy,” Joel says, voice tight, “I was midway through a conversation with’er. Was just about to.”

They exchange a look you can’t really decipher. Tommy raises his eyebrows and Joel curls his lip in response. Then, Tommy turns on his heel and goes back in the house.

The heat outside is already uncomfortable, but now you feel awkward. You didn’t realize that Joel would invite you to something. Maybe he didn’t even want to, he just didn’t want to look like an asshat in front of Tommy. Joel looks sheepish in his pajamas, downturned frown neutralizing to a softer smile. He breathes in to speak, but now you don’t want his invite.

“Joel,” you say quietly, “you don’t have to invite me. I’d hate to intrude on your family time with Sarah.” 

You really thought that you’d want to speak to Joel after all this time, but this feels humiliating. A pity invite to his daughter’s birthday dinner? It’s not what you expected, or wanted. As much as you’d like to see Sarah, something about it feels wrong. What would you say?

“Hey, it's been awhile. How’s college been? Good! Aw, I’m glad. Yeah last time I saw your dad I jerked him off. Oh, you’re in STEM?”

No, that’s not what you want. He looks like he’s going to protest, but you have to shut him down. You’ve never really spoken to his other daughter, Ellie. It feels like a nightmare waiting to happen.

“I’m just your neighbor,” you wave your hand, as if you could make this go away.

Joel’s brows furrow, his mustache curling back downwards with his frown. Skittishly, his eyes flick away.

“I… I’d like it if y’came. Even if we’re just neighbors,” Joel says. He seems embarrassed about inviting you, a red hue glowing beneath the sweat on his neck. 

Alone, in front of the garage, it feels like he’s under you again. Why is he so shy? So bashful? Something in you is frustrated. You’ve been waiting for a month for any scraps, anything more than neighborly chit-chat, and now you have to turn him down. Doesn’t he realize you’ve been waiting for him? 

You don’t want to be just neighbors with this Joel, you want more. You want to know him more than just as “hot-single-dad-next-door.”

You want to know him the way you did when you were behind him on the couch.

But… Maybe this is Joel. You saw the pictures all over his house, and he runs a company with his brother. Family is clearly everything to him, and even if this isn’t a dinner-date like he promised, this is something more. It’s closer for him, this is his own version of pulling you in.

Besides, your mom would want you to say yes. It’s polite, right?

You concede to Joel’s wishes, as much as you want something else. He smiles really big when you agree, a shy “okay” leaving you. It’s not like you could ignore him anyways, not with the way his wife pleaser is stretched around him so… pleasingly.

He tells you that there’s a colour theme of black and blue, since Sarah wants everyone to match in the pictures. Joel starts to blab about what a good photographer she is, but you actually shut him down this time, so as to not miss your bus.

—

Somehow, standing on Joel’s porch is a lot worse than last time. You don’t have a bunch of flowers for your neighborly crush, or a set of hands to ease his back. All you have is the guilt in your gut for showing up at his daughter’s birthday dinner. 

It took you almost 45 minutes to pick an outfit. He mentioned blue and black, but didn’t mention what shade of blue. Everything you had felt either too dressy, or was literally pajamas. Eventually you found something that worked, but now you’re in your own head. Will Joel think this is nice? Does Joel even think you’re pretty in the first place? You can’t remember, your mind is blanking. 

Jesus, chill out. You’re going over for dinner, and this isn’t even about you. 

Swallowing the saliva in your mouth, you knock.

“I’ll get it!!” A voice yells from inside. Not Joel’s.

Tommy grins at you after he swings open the door. He’s done his hair back, instead of tying it back, and he’s wearing a blue and black, plaid, flannel. The Miller brothers seem to have a flannel for every occasion. 

“Well helloo Neighbor-Girl,” Tommy greets. His smile is devious as he stands in the doorway. 

Loud footsteps rush up behind Tommy and he’s suddenly being yanked out of your view by a hand. 

“Christ, Tommy, leave’er alone.” Joel grunts.

He isn’t wearing a flannel, which surprises you. His usual casual clothes have been replaced by a nice, black, western shirt. The stitching across the chest is done in black as well. Not unlike Tommy, is his slicked back hair. It’s short still, but it looks good pushed back. 

He tells you to keep your shoes on as he leads you to the backyard. You can’t keep your eyes off him as he and Tommy walk ahead of you. That black shirt, stretched across his back, the curls that lick upwards where his hair isn’t slicked. God, he looks stupidly good.

The house looks about the same. Same couch where you jerked him off, same table where the flowers used to sit, same pictures of his family on the walls. Everything feels different. Why doesn’t it look different?

Finally your eyes reach the backyard, and it looks magical. Various lights have been set up to create a relaxed atmosphere, with some comfortable lawn furniture set up on the deck. The barbecue is clearly cooking something, and Tommy walks to it automatically. 

Sarah and Ellie seem to be giggling to themselves, hunched over in secrecy. The sisters whisper to one another, but part once they see you.

“Hi,” Ellie says immediately, her bright eyes looking at you excitedly. You greet her in return, then wish Sarah a happy birthday.

She’s wearing a matching shirt to Joel’s, which is adorable. You know for a fact that Joel wouldn’t dress up past a button up or flannel for most occasions, meaning Sarah probably begged him for this. Even the wash of their jeans are the same. 

You’re just about to strike up a conversation with the two girls when Joel comes up behind you and squeezes your upper arm gently.

“‘M sittin’ over there, if you’d like to join,” he motions to an outdoor couch identical to the one Sarah and Ellie are sitting on.

It’s close enough that you could go back to talking with the girls, but once you’ve sat down beside Joel, they’re back to giggling. 

—

It feels like everybody knows.

This fear from earlier has manifested in front of your eyes, this awful anxiety growing. You could barely finish your food, even though it was delicious. Your mouth is dry all the time, you can’t stop drinking water. You hyperfocus on every little action you take, feeling crazy,

Tommy has been staring at you like he’s holding a secret, his eyes seem to say “I know something you don’t,” and every time you turn your back Sarah and Ellie are giggling again. For them, you try to cut some slack. Ellie is a teen, and Sarah isn’t a lot older than her, they’re young girls, of course they’re giggling. It’s Tommy who’s making you anxious, especially with the scolding scowls that Joel keeps sending him. 

The conversations are fine once you stop eating, mostly with you listening and observing the dynamic in the family. Tommy talks about this recent client he and Joel have been working with as you all eat cake, but it’s hard to focus when it feels like everybody knows what you did.

Joel seems to notice this anxiety over the course of the night, looking at you with mild concern a few times. He even asks if you’re alright at some point, holding the “darlin” for once, and you just tell him you had a rough day at work. Total lie, the only rough thing about this day is how you feel like you’re going to throw up all your food anytime someone in his family starts to perceive you.

Later in the evening, Joel rests his hand on your knee when he reaches for his beer, and you flinch. He seems caught off guard by this, but luckily nobody else notices. His eyes are apologetic as he looks at you, all brown and sappy.

Shame is burning in your veins. He’s invited you here to spend this special night with his daughter and family. He's been so kind to feed you too, but now you’ve made him feel weird too. It feels like your anxiety is leaking out of your pores, a haze of guilt clouding your mind and flooding his. Joel hasn’t seemed bothered at all tonight, or at least he hasn’t shown it. 

But there he is, accommodating you as he leans a little closer and asks;

“S’gettin’ late. I could walk y’home.”

There he is, there’s your Joel. Your Joel, the one who you know as a caring man. In any other situation this would feel like someone politely requesting you leave the party early, but not with Joel. He’s conscious of your emotions, and he can tell you’re too overwhelmed to be here anymore. There’s your sweet boy, reeling you in before it gets to be too much.

You only nod in response.

It’s a few more minutes before you get out of there, with Tommy and Ellie stacking copious amounts of leftovers for you onto paper plates, lidding them with tin foil. You use this time to talk a little with Sarah, asking about her time in college. She’s happy to share with you, and you can see Joel in her. She has the welcoming energy, the same warmth in her that pools in her eyes. Even without the outfits they would match. 

Ellie, however, must be spending too much time with Tommy. They both wear shit eating grins as they hand you the stack of plates stuffed with leftovers, with Tommy asking you to “Come back anytime.”

Blood rushes to your face fast, and you toddle off to the door quickly after saying thank you.

—

The air on the porch is cooler, but your adrenaline is making you run hot. You want to stop sweating, but all the looks and giggles and comments from the night are running through your mind repeatedly. What did they know? How did they know? Joel wouldn’t tell them anything like that, would he? Thank God you didn’t stay long enough to be in those pictures that Sarah wanted to take. 

The front door thuds shut a moment later. Joel’s steps fall heavy behind you, then he’s beside you. He’s barely touched you tonight, and even now he keeps his distance. You’re glad for it, you couldn’t have handled it anyways.

You both walk the short distance to your house, using the pathway rather than cutting through the grass like you usually do. It feels like you should be enjoying these extra seconds of time with him, but all you feel is embarrassed.

He breathes in the cool air of the summer night through his nose, chest puffing, then blows it out.

“I am so, so, fuckin’ sorry,” he says.

It takes you off guard immediately. You felt like you were acting crazy all night just by your own overthinking, but it was also fuelled by Joel’s non-chalantness about everything. He didn’t seem to notice anything all night but you and how anxious you were. This feels like the start of a conversation, so you put the leftovers down on the bottom step of your porch. 

“I– Ellie, when I brought her home after you were over last,” he begins, “she got home and saw the flowers right away. I told her not to make nothin’ of it, but she went and rattled off to Sarah and Tommy.”

Oh, okay. It was just the flowers. That’s good, at least they think you’re a lovesick loser, rather than the neighborhood floozy. 

“I told them to act right tonight, begged’em to. The three of’em have been torturing me about it, I think it’s why I avoided you,” Joel admits quietly. 

He’s doing it again, soothing your worries without meaning to. He’s a cooling balm on your burning brain, a sense of sanity cleansing you. 

Joel wasn’t ashamed of what happened between you two, his family was just being shitstirrers about him receiving flowers. It wasn’t on purpose, and most importantly–

“I’m really sorry, angel. I should have called or– or somethin. Askin’ you to come tonight was askin’ for trouble from them. My daughter’s birthday ain’t makin’ up for shit, ‘specially not when they’re actin’ like that.”

An apology. Joel Miller seemed like a solid man before, one that was dependable, polite, and kind, but now he seems near-perfect. He’s taking accountability, admitting how he acted and why, and apologizing. No wonder he has two incredible daughters, both of whom love him dearly. 

You stand there for a minute, a little speechless. You can’t remember a time that a man apologized to you and seemed to really mean it, or at least understand what he did wrong. But there’s Joel, in his black western shirt that’s rolled up his thick forearms, eyes soft and sorry as he looks at you in the blue-black night. He’s not like any man you’ve met before, not like your dad, friends back home, or your ex-boyfriend. 

Tonight isn’t like any night you’ve had in Texas so far, but for so many different reasons. You’ve had a few weird nights, sure. Like what you shared with Joel, or the time you took the wrong bus home and got lost downtown, but it’s weird in a good way.

Tonight, you get to accept an apology from a man who truly seems sorry. Who’s admitted his wrongs, explained what happened, and more than that he’s been earnest about it. You didn’t have to beg for this apology, or argue why he should apologize. He did that on his own, made up his mind, and said sorry like a real man would. 

It’s hard to make up your mind on what to do though, whether you should throw yourself at him and kiss him dizzy, or to just say “It’s alright, no hard feelings.”

You settle somewhere in the middle, taking his hands into your own. Your thumb pads rest in the centre of his palms, pushing down and massaging his hands. 

“It’s okay,” you say finally, voice unsteady. 

Joel isn’t at fault for his family being devious and obviously way too interested in his love life. What he is at fault for, is avoiding you. Brave enough to apologize, pussy enough to avoid the girl he likes. You keep talking.

“I wish you would have spoken to me about this, it made me feel awkward,” you tell him.

He looks up from your joined hands then, looking at you face on. Shame is painting his features, but he’s trying to be courageous, you can tell.

There is no “I know I should have,” or “I’m sorry you felt that way.” Just his voice saying, “I’m sorry.”

No if’s, and’s, or but’s. He’s sorry without excuse or pride. 

The night air is still brisk on your skin, but Joel is warm everywhere. If you laid a hand onto his cheek you would feel hot flesh burning you back. His eyes flit from your own for a moment, decisive. 

“I’d really, really, like to have dinner with you sometime. I know tonight was a disaster, so I won’t be offended if y’say no, but… I wanna make this up to you.”

This feels so much realer than last time, like he’s gripping your heart in his hand and squeezing as it beats. Joel isn’t just saying this in passing after he’s come in your hand, he’s not awkward and politely asking to return a favor. Joel wants this, wants you, wants to have dinner with you. It probably should have occurred to you when he invited you to his daughter’s birthday dinner, but it’s only hitting you right now. No more pity invites, he wants this. 

Joel Miller wants this, he wants you, and he’s standing there with your hands in his, with his stupid soft eyes and with his heart on the line. He’s beautiful right now, standing with you as sorry as he can be. You’ll let him have this, he’s asking for it himself. Joel’s being so much braver this time around.

“I think we could do that,” you reply quietly.

His shoulders relax, brow unfurrowing. You can see the relief flood over him instantly, and he looks beautiful then too. 

It’s easy from there. Joel’s voice is so soft when he’s grateful, quiet as he thanks and arranges a date-night with you. The two of you decide that a night in would be fine, since Joel ends up working late pretty often. You’re fine with this, and would honestly rather have him to yourself anyways. No more prying eyes when you’re with him, no more over-bearing perceptions that make your brain fizzle out with anxiety. Just you and Joel. 

Admittedly, this silly crush on Joel began at a pretty surface level. Not shallow, but all you knew about him was that he was a hot dad and a nice guy. Now, though? Now he’s proven himself, shown you that there’s something in him that you can reach for. Everything’s bigger in Texas, but so far it’s only made you feel small. Being around Joel hushes you, like a kiss to a scrape. You want to know him deeper. 

He squeezes your hands, then drops them so you can pick up your leftovers. You feel a little shy turning your back to him as you make it up to your door, but then he speaks.

“You looked real pretty tonight, angel, more’n usual.”

You hope he can’t hear the squeak you make when the door shuts behind you.

—

It’s a few days later, and Joel is supposed to be coming soon. He warned that he’s been working late recently, that he probably won’t be off work until eight that evening. You don’t care, you made him dinner. 

It’s sitting in the kitchen, ready to be rewarmed when he gets to your house. It’s 8:30 now, he should be here soon. You’re tucked away on the couch, settled after recooling the house with your air conditioner. To be honest it should be illegal to cook during summers like this. You sweated so much you thought about taking another shower, but it wouldn’t have helped.

Besides, Joel’s showing up to your house in probably 10 minutes, sweaty and gross from work. It won’t be like you’re any grosser in comparison.

As predicted, he does show up ten minutes later. His hair is a mess and he smells like hard work, but it doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters when he’s in your doorway, toeing off his boots, and asking how your day was. Joel’s eyes keep shyly meeting yours as you lead him to your living room and turn to face him. He’s nervous, clearly, but it’s sweet. You’re both out of your element again, this time in your house instead.

Joel’s eyes flit around the room when he’s avoiding your eyes, taking in your home similar to how you did his when you were there not so long ago. You wonder what he’s thinking, hoping he doesn’t find you to be boring. He keeps clenching and unclenching his fists and laughing nervously, and you keep watching how his adam's apple bobs in his throat, and how he vibrates with his laughter. He looks puppylike in the soft light of your home, brown eyes glistening.

“Are you hungry?” You ask him, tilting your head upwards. He looks so huge in your little space.

Joel nods sheepishly, and so you lead him into the kitchen.

—

They say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, and maybe Joel is the reason they say that. He groaned his way through dinner, with his eyes rolled back and compliments flying off his tongue when he wasn’t chewing. He listened to every word you said intently, taking his time with the food you had made. It had taken almost 40 minutes for him to finish that plate of food, and you saw just earlier that week how fast he could pound back a meal.

He’s savoring you with this silent praise you’ve never experienced.

And now he’s sat beside you on the couch, arm around your shoulders, and you’re snuggled back into him. The remote seems like a prop as you use it, aimlessly scrolling through a streaming service for a movie. Your thumbs are just rubbing over the rubber buttons now, your eyes focused on how his chest rises and falls. 

“I really don’t mind what you wanna watch, baby,” He says.

His voice seems so much nicer up close like this, when his face is just above yours and you’re beside him. 

“Or we don’t have to watch anything at all, we can just talk.”

How are you supposed to control yourself around him? How can he just walk into your home and fit right into your space, and look that good and be so warm? It feels like your bones are fighting against your skin to move, like the blood in your veins is yearning to jump rope. Joel is turning you on in a way you didn’t think possible, in a way where he’s never touched you, but you need him all at once. He’s softening the both of you.

It’s the middle of the hottest July of your entire life, but you’ve never felt warmer than right now.

“I’m sorry, was that weird? I jus’ like to hear you talk an–” Fuck he’s so nervous. Why is he so nervous? You want him loose and pliant again, like he was on the couch. 

“You should kiss me,” you blurt out. 

It’s funny how this is not the most insane thing you’ve suggested. The first crazy thing you suggested was “helping” him out with his boner when you went to his house on father’s day. 

Still, Joel is surprised. 

“You think so? I jus’ ate, I probably taste like food,” he says it like it’s an excuse.

You shift your body so you can face him better, chin tilted up so you can see his face. He’s not blushing, but he does seem surprised. This is much different than the embarrassed girl he walked home not even a week ago.

“Joel, I’m sure. I just– I don’t know, I’m sorry,” you bumble out.

He’s shaking his head, eyebrows pinched in that stupid way that makes his eyes look like a baby animals. 

“No, no, baby, it’s alright I’m just gross from work and I…” He drops eye contact with you. 

“I don’t want you to think that all I want from you is physical. You’re beautiful in a lot more ways than that.”

Fuck this guy, seriously. He’s so nervous, and clearly still thinks he’s fumbling this. Your bones are still vibrating, you’re so close to jumping out of your skin and into his. 

“Joel you’re incredible too, but I just really need you to kiss me,” you breathe. 

He seems to get it then. You clearly have deeper feelings, but after so long apart, and that disaster with his family, you’re pent up. Joel knows he’s kept you waiting long enough.

His first kiss is hesitant, just a small one that ends in a mumbled apology.

“S’been awhile,” he excuses before going back in.

And from there, it escalates. He’s controlled in his kisses, and seems to be avoiding tongue kissing you. Joel’s hesitancy from eating earlier is there, and you appreciate the courtesy. He makes it up though, when you push him further back on the couch and slide into his lap, arms looped around his neck.

Kisses are dotted from your lips, down your chin, and to the soft skin of your neck, where his mouth nips and kisses gently. Your hands are in his hair as you roll your head back, wanting to allow him however much space he needs to kiss you. There’s no hesitancy for either of you to be quiet, with him groaning as he smothers your neck in kisses, and you whining as he finds your sensitive points. 

It only takes a few ruts of your hips against his for him to be asking you if you want to go upstairs. He’s out of breath beneath you, cheeks flushed, and you can feel how hard he’s gotten.

“Y-yeah, my room,” you agree weakly, sliding off his lap.

Joel can barely keep his hands off you as you scamper up the stairs, grasping at your thighs and laughing softly when you squeak. 

It feels so juvenile, the way he grabs for you as soon as you enter your room. His lips are back on yours even as you try to tug up his shirt and he shakes his head slightly. 

“You first, I have a lot to make up for,” he mumbles, nodding his head towards the bed.

He undresses you once you’ve laid down, with eyes that drag over you in awe and pure attraction. Joel doesn’t mind your plain cotton undies, or the hairs that poke out the front. It’s sweet and homelike, it’s normal. 

He kisses where your hip bone is, murmuring into the fabric that covers it. 

“I really want to eat you out, beautiful. Is that okay with you?”

For the first time in this entire evening, his voice seems to sober you rather than intoxicate you more. Your lungs finally catch up with the rest of you, and you can breathe enough to get some actual oxygen into your brain, so you can think.

Obviously the answer should be yes, but you don’t feel totally comfortable with that yet. You’re not someone who prefers to be shaven, it’s inconvenient, but your bush is a little much even for you right now. On top of that, you’ve been sweating like crazy all day, so you don’t even wanna know what it’s like down there. And if you don’t wanna know what it’s like, then you don’t want Joel to know what it’s like, even if he really wants to.

So you shake your head.

Perfect boy he is, Joel nods and says “that’s alright, baby, thank you for bein’ honest,” as he slides back up your body after placing one more kiss on your hip bone. 

You are okay with him lifting your shirt off, and then unclipping your bra. He palms at your breasts lovingly, kissing them all over and lapping at your nipples. All of his touches are so gentle, but stupidly impactful. He seems to know that you don’t want this to be rough, that you enjoy his sweetness. He’s understanding you without even trying, and it feels like you’re being loved for the first time.

Joel is being careful in a way that doesn’t make you feel like you’re being overdramatic, or fragile. He’s watching your movements so he can do this right, but at the same time you’re getting impatient.

“Joel,” you pant as he sucks your nipple back into his mouth, “Joel, take your clothes off, please?”

He’s stupidly excited as he scrambles off your bed, tugging his jeans down and almost getting caught in his shirt when he pulls it off wrong. Joel touches his boxers and then looks at you with questioning eyes. This is where he hesitates.

“We can turn the lights off,” you offer gently. 

You remember his hesitancy on the couch, how he didn’t want you to look at him, to see him. It doesn’t matter if it’s dark in your room when this happens, so long as it’s him in the bed with you.

Joel turns and shuts the lights off, plunging the room into darkness for a moment before your eyes adjust. In another moment, you feel him on top of you again, his warm skin touching yours. It’s very lucky you cracked your window open earlier, so now your bedroom has become a manageable temperature. 

He’s comfortable on top of you, with his plush tummy pressing against the softness of your own. Your legs tangle as you struggle to strip your undies off, and you give up when they get caught around your ankle. His nose is pressed to your cheek as he just hovers above you for a second. 

“I know I said this earlier, but it really has been a long time,” he admits quietly. 

It shouldn’t warm your heart the way it does, but the idea of him not sharing himself with anyone for so long until you… it’s special. 

“That’s okay. Are you okay?” You ask.

He nods, from what you can feel, and then pulls back onto his knees. Joel isn’t totally visible in the light of your room, but he’s still gorgeous from what you can tell. The pouch of his tummy is so cute, so real, and you hope that you can bite it one day.

“I’m just going to prep you a little, is that okay darlin?” Joel says carefully, trailing a hand down your thigh.

Maybe from the outside this looks like two awkward people having sex, or maybe even like you don’t want each other at all. It sounds like there’s so much hesitancy in the room, but it’s not like that. The two of you are just reassuring one another, Joel to you because he was gone for so long, and you to him because it’s been so long for him. 

So it isn’t awkward, when he plunges his finger into you. He starts with one, gentle as ever, and works up to three very slowly. Joel leans down to your cheek and murmurs the nicest things to you, telling you how nice you feel, thanking you for being so kind to him.

“So patient with me, baby. Don’t know why you are, but it’s so kind,” he says quietly as he curls his fingers in you. They feel so much bigger than your own, but they fit fine. Fuller than you’re used to, but fulfilled in a new way. The feeling chokes your breath and all you can do is whimper softly at him, eyes wide.

“M’gonna be makin’ up my mistakes for a long time to you, an’ not just like this,” he promises, slowing his movements but making them more deliberate, a little harder. Nothing is burning like it usually does, there’s no sting of pain, it’s just a melting pot of pleasure between your legs as he gives himself to you and you to him. 

“Is that okay with you? Is it okay if I wanna make this up to you for a long time?” Joel asks.

You know what he’s asking. You know you want it too, you know you haven’t felt this wanted since you moved to Texas, probably even before. Nothing has felt like this in your life, and he’s requesting you to have it. 

“Yes, yes, Joel, that’s okay with me,” you say.

He leans down and kisses you once, then lets you scoot up and over on the bed so you can fumble in your drawer for the lube. Your hand passes over a silicone toy in your bedside table and you smile at the fact that it will soon be long abandoned as you pass the lube to him.

“Might be cold,” Joel warns before pouring some onto his fingers and applying it to you.

Then, he applies some to himself and settles comfortably between your legs. He drags the head of his cock over your hole and up to your clit, like a teasing warning. He had felt big in your palm before, but he feels even bigger now. He was right to prep you.

Finally, he notches himself and slowly pushes in, letting your locked ankles on his lower back guide the speed at which he slides in. Joel is breathing really heavily, and when he finally feels his pelvis meet yours, he collapses down onto his elbows.

“Fuck,” he cusses.

It feels better than you thought it would. He’s big, but not so much that you want him to pull back a little. You physically feel as comfortable and fulfilled as he makes you feel emotionally.

“So good, oh my god–” you sigh softly, hands reaching up and catching his curls in your fingers. You drag him down, your beautiful boy, and kiss him gently. 

But he isn’t moving. You can feel his thighs shaking and how he’s still breathing heavily.

“Hey,” you start softly after pulling back from the kiss, but he shakes his head.

“If I move I think–  I think I’m gonna come,” he sputters out embarrassedly.

Oh. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry baby. You’re just so fucking pretty and it’s been so long and you feel so goddamn good, I don’t know, I can’t move.” 

His nose is near enough to yours that you can brush them together, nuzzling the side of his face.

“Joel it’s okay, I’m not going to be upset,” you tell him. It’s oddly sweet for him to have such an overwhelming reaction to you. 

“No, I know that I just… I really wanna make you come. I wanna feel it," he admits.

And so you wait. Your unending patience seems to extend to him again in this moment and you lay there kissing him until he can finally begin to move at an even pace. 

It’s so worth it.

Joel is so loving as he fucks you, with deep thrusts as he groans and bites at your neck tenderly. His hands come up and palm your breasts, rolling his thumbs over his nipples as he tells you how pretty you are, how grateful and sorry he is.

He apologizes a lot. For the party, for his distance, for how stupid he was to not see how beautiful you were from the day you moved in next door. He’s noisy and apologetic as he keeps a stable pace as he fucks you into your mattress. 

Your mind is entirely fucked for him. You’re whimpering and mewling beneath him, babbling “it’s okay,” and “i forgive you,” everytime he says he’s sorry. Why is he even sorry anymore? Can’t he tell how much you love this? 

The more he talks the closer you get, your body clenching around him as he buries himself deep repeatedly. The stable pace he set should ground you, should keep your head on your shoulders, but it’s actually making it worse. You don’t need it any faster or harder than he’s giving it to you, not with how noisy he is, and how attentive his hands are.

“Do you forgive me?” he rumbles into your ear, dropped on one elbow as his other hand is reached down and gently rubbing your clit. 

You nod desperately, accidentally knocking your head into his. It makes him laugh, asking “yeah?” as he continues to pin his hips into your own. 

“I forgive you, Joel, I swear,” you choke out weakly. 

“Then will you come for me, honey? Please?” he asks.

It’s maybe the dirtiest thing he’s said all night, or maybe it just feels like it in the heat of the moment, but it sends you over the edge right away. You spasm around him and claw at his broad back, gasping for air and squeaking out noises you haven’t made before. Tears prick at your eyes as he works you through it with his fingers and cock.

“Fuck, yeah, there you are baby, that’s a good girl. God– Can I come? Is that okay?” Joel asks once you start to come down. You’re still in your head enough to nod, pressing a sloppy kiss to his lips. 

It doesn’t take long at all, you’re surprised he was able to last as long as he did with everything considered. Joel takes less than a minute before he’s pulling out and letting out deep grunts and breaths as he comes on your tummy, looking down at you with adoring eyes. 

“Thank you, thank you baby, God.” He huffs out as he catches his breath. He’s kneeling between your legs with his chest puffing. 

He continues thanking you as he cleans you up with a washcloth. You had to guide him to it by yelling instructions as he walked on shaky legs to your linen closet, not wanting to spill his mess everywhere. 

Once you���re finally cleaned up, he nestles into bed with you. Your head lays on his still clammy shoulder as he tucks you beneath his arm and presses kisses to your hairline.

“M’so grateful for you, darlin’, I hope you know that,” he mumbles to you. 

You tell him that you know, that he just proved it to you, and he laughs. The noise is so warm in your room, like it was meant to be there.

“Okay, that’s fair, but if you need anything else,” he tells you.

A thought does pop into your mind, but it doesn’t seem totally appropriate. You’re enjoying this peaceful moment with Joel, in your quiet room. His hand is tapping its fingers on your stomach, squeezing the flesh once or twice.

You decide not to say anything, but your tummy does. She growls loud and proud, forcing an embarrassed blush onto your face.

“Um… I think I’m kinda hungry,” you admit.

—

That’s how you and Joel end the night, in the kitchen.

You’re sitting on your countertop while he leans against it about a foot away. The paper plate that Ellie loaded up with cake is sat between the two of you, and your forks steal big lumps out of it.

Joel has frosting in his moustache, but it looks so cute there that you don’t have the heart to tell him. Instead, you just lean over and kiss him. 

“N’ what was that for?” He asks through a mouthful of cake.

You just giggle and shrug, admiring him. 

“I just like you,” you tell him.

He looks like he might roll his eyes, but instead he steps closer to you and kisses you on the cheek. You can feel the residue of the frosting on your skin.

“Yeah, I think I like you too, baby.” 

i don't have a taglist, but i'll just tag people who commented on texas sweet :p @mochamadeleines @pascalssbabyy @taeslarityy @stefanibear003 @slutty-express @theweedisasterxoxo @knockk0ut @axshadows @lumpatto @aquanatalie @peekyourinterest @moel-jiller @ghostofzion @joeylovestofu @hellishjoel @pedropeach @pawnshopb1ues

[seat-safety-switch]

Are you now, or have you ever, been a member of the American Horticultural Society? If you answered in the affirmative to this question, there are several detectives down at the station who would like to talk with you about your activities over the last few weeks. Don't worry, I'm no snitch: I just want my shitboxes back.

Gardeners are nothing if not resourceful. If you go into a good-sized suburban backyard garden, you'll see trash cans getting used to protect plants. Old lawnmower-struck hose irrigating tender veggies. And CD-ROMs dangling everywhere, to alternatingly antagonize and beguile the crows into not eating all the cucumbers this year. I admire this kind of waste-not-have-not mentality, but sometimes it goes a little bit too far.

A couple months ago, there were some rumblings about "guerrilla gardeners." These rogue seedsfolx would roam the countryside, eyes peeled for opportunity to plant a garden on land they don't own. Upon finding old abandoned lots, sun-bleached traffic islands, and unattended flower beds, they would strike, stuffing innocent lands with their ovules. Soon, a gorgeous garden of hardy plants would be in that place. Pissed off the bylaw officers, who now had to deal with the beauteous, chaotic bounty of nature, rather than dead, brown grass when it came time to mow. I thought this was pretty funny, until it happened to me.

Do you know why they tell you not to leave your dog inside a car? Because it gets really hot inside a car. Sun goes into the windows, but the heat can't escape. We call this a "greenhouse effect." Do you know what else has a greenhouse effect? Fucking greenhouses do. One morning, I came out to my yard full of several dozen non-operable, shit-box automobiles to find that someone had jimmied the locks on each and every one of them. On the seats? Plants. Some were exotic hothouse varieties. Some were simply pretty flowers. And they were all growing strong, fed by the sunlight through the greasy windows, the controlled drip of rainwater through the rust holes in the roof, the iron-rich powder on the seats, and the humid rainforest atmosphere of my cars' interior. What was this town coming to?

I cleared this out, of course, placing the plants gently outside, where they belonged. Soon, even more exotic varietals of botanist-lust found their way into the cars to replace them. If I turned my back for a weekend, I'd be chopping a strange kind of vine that even Wikipedia says "I dunno" about. The local bylaw officer noticed, too, while trying to do one of her routine sweeps to see if she could get me on a technicality. Seeing the work of the guerrilla gardeners enraged her so much that I don't think she even noticed I started parking the Viscount in the neighbour's swimming pool to keep the interior safe from all but water lilies.

[headspace-hotel]

Fact is, mechanical mowing is nothing at all like grazing in terms of its impacts upon a plant community.

Grazing animals are selective in how they forage, eating plants they find tastier and avoiding plants they don't like. In this way, the power of a highly competitive plant could be nerfed because that plant is yummy and gets eaten more.

Grazing animals also don't graze uniformly over a whole pasture—they have areas they prefer to hang out and areas they hang out in less. This creates a broad range of specific levels of pressure that the plant communities face

Grazing animals chop and churn up soil with their hooves. They jostle seeds loose and bury them in mud. They compact some areas of soil but not uniformly.

Grazing animals poop. Ruminants like cattle, bison, goats, and deer use symbiotic bacteria that live in their guts to digest their food. The bacteria break down the plants into nutrients. When the animal defecates, it provides a feast of nutrients and moisture for plants and insects.

Finally, grazing animals are significantly slower and less violent than lawn mowers, and thus less likely to run over critters and shred them to bits.

I doubt it would be possible to comprehensively measure how many insects get shredded to bits by lawn mowers, or what impact this has on the overall population, but running a Creature-Shredding Machine regularly over your entire yard can't be good for them. You're chopping up a lot of caterpillars and other flightless larval forms of bugs, which birds need a LOT of in spring to feed to baby birds, among literally everything else.

Our turf grasses evolved to have large animals munching them down, which is why we have to cut them with machines. However, the machines fail entirely to fulfill their part of the symbiosis.

Most importantly, the machines spew shredded plant material all over the ground, where the mess dries out and essentially does nothing. Lawns are too short to hold in the ground's moisture, and perpetually sun-drenched because of the scalped plant cover. Ruminants chew their cud to help their bacteria break down the incredibly tough plant material into a form that releases the absorbable nutrients. Lawn mowers are not meticulous like that. The shreds take forever to be decomposed—assuming they are decomposed on-site at all instead of being blown or washed away.

The spewing of shredded plant gunk is something that certainly has unique impacts on the plant life. I have particularly noticed that grass clippings get stuck to leaves of nearby plants (often causing them to rot) or even pierce through leaves, injuring or killing the leaf. The death of a single leaf on a single plant is tiny, but tiny stresses like these can determine which plants are capable of thriving in an environment and which die out. A plant might happen to respond badly to frequent micro-injuries.

Here's an interesting fact: There is a highly endangered plant found in Kentucky called running buffalo-clover. Why do you think it is called that?

The running part means it forms long, vine-like stems that sprawl out and run along the ground, growing new roots along their length.

The buffalo part refers to the plant's association with bison. When bison trample on it, they chop the running stems with their sharp hooves. Since the stems are rooted into the ground, they can live on their own without being linked to the main plant, and in this way, the bison are chopping the plants up into more plants!

[gurugirl]

Matchmaker | preview

single mom!reader x neighbor!harry

. .

The first time she saw him, or rather paid attention when she saw him, she was just getting home after picking Max up from school. Her neighbor was in his front yard mowing his grass. He was wearing a backward baseball cap, a loose grey sleeveless shirt, and a pair of red shorts that had her slowing down to get a better look.

“What are you doing?”

Y/n quickly peered in her rearview mirror at her son, “Nothing. Just noticed that he’s got a neat garden gnome.” She silently scolded herself for being so obvious. But it was hard not to stare when he looked like that.

Max was getting old enough that he easily picked up on certain things. Like when Y/n was upset about something that happened at work he could tell by how detached she seemed, or how she acted a little more bubbly around her friends. How much younger she seemed when Lei hung out with them. And he definitely didn’t miss the way his mom stared out the window at the man mowing his grass.

When they got out of the car, Max stood and watched the guy pushing his lawnmower for a moment before Y/n poked at his shoulder, “Come on. Let’s get inside so I can make dinner.”

“He has a lot of tattoos.”

With a sigh she looked a few houses down at her handsome neighbor, and nodded, squeezing her son’s shoulder, “He does.”

“And nice trainers. Do you like him?” Max looked up at her.

“What?” She blew a laugh out, “I don’t know him. Why do you ask that?”

“Because he has a really cool car and you were staring at him. That’s what girls do when they like a boy.”

“Oh pish! You’re only 9. What do you know about all that? Go on. Get inside, silly boy.”

Max turned and ran up to the house, using his own key to unlock the door as Y/n pulled a bag of groceries from the boot of her car and chanced another peek at the tall man. He was sweating and appeared to be whistling, cheekbones more prominent as he puckered his lips. Of course, all she could hear was his lawnmower as he pushed the machine through the yard.

Very handsome. And his car was pretty cool.

. .

ALL PARTS OUT NOW ON PATREON! xoxo

[cherie-doll]

𓆩♡𓆪 Headcanon: Summer With Them

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Alejandro, Phillip Graves, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

ׂׂૢ Y’all have no idea how much i hate summer i defrost from vampire to weird nerd -1000 aura points or whatever they’re saying on the clock app

Anyways i finished this while at the laundromat

Ghost

Prefers summer nights to summer days or evenings

Sits on the porch at night with you listening to the cicadas sing

And during this time you can’t take showers together bc he won’t let you adjust the temperature, he takes his showers ice cold

Don’t ask me where I get this from but he vibes with that one Type O Negative song bc according to him it gives “summer” (iykyk)

Prob has sun sensitivity

Cannot leave the house without his sunglasses

And he avoids driving when the sun’s too bright

Soap

Bastard who enjoys summer #1

He likes summer because it means going down to the beach and showing off his muscles that stay clothed under uniform throughout the year

Wants to buy swimming trunks that’ll match your swimwear

He likes joining teens in volleyball and flying kites with kids

Loves going on walks on the beach at dawn and dusk

He once gave you a bad scare when making you think the dolphin fin in the water was a shark

Even if you’re at home he’ll drag you out of bed to join his morning walk and evening walks after dinner

Gaz

He’s content with summer

Will come up with tons of things to do

Picnics he prepares every weekend

Cloud watching

Catching fireflies in a jar and setting them free all at once to see them glow

Running his fingers through your hair as the breeze blows

Making lemonade together to stay cool outside

Buys a vintage camera to take lots of pics of you

On every evening walk you take together he picks something small like a leaf or flower and saves it

At the end of the season he gets everything together and creates a page in his scrapbook

Alejandro

Bastard who enjoys summer #2

He likes the feel of summer breeze on his bare skin and you look forward to seeing that ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Likes to sleep with the windows open at night

Blasts music

Carne asadas

Frequents the local ice cream shops to buy mangonadas

Throughout the entire summer your kitchen has fruits of all kind that he eats with tajin

Will take you for a drive around in his truck and then find a quiet little spot like a lake or mountain to park and sit on the truck bed watching the sky

Phillip Graves

Sits outside with sunglasses on and beer in hand

Calls for you to come out and sit with him to watch the sunset

Cookouts

Anytime you complain of the heat you better hope he’s not around to yap your ear off about some anecdote from when he was a child

“It’s hot” “Ain’t that hot” he responds whilst his face is sunburned bc he refuses to wear sunscreen

Will only wear sunscreen if you are able to catch him before he goes outside and apply it for him

Keegan

It seems like summer evenings are the perfect time to do stuff

For some reason likes to do things shirtless in summer: yard/garden work, mowing the lawn, washing the car..

You set up a chair on the porch to watch him

Falling asleep on a soft patch of grass under the shade of a tree

Will start a bonfire and sit around it with you for hours into the late hours of the night

Sometimes you’ll stay out so late with him that both of you fall asleep

König

He’s not fond of summer

Would prefer to stay inside but if you want to he’ll go out as well

Sprawls on the floor with the fan on

He’ll drive where you want to go and then sit in the car watching you

Prob keeps ice packs in a cooler to keep cool when going outside for a long time

He’d rather be outside when the sun starts to set and the sky turns orange

Sets up a hammock

Afternoon naps on the hammock with the gentle sway of the wind

Horangi

He likes summer and prepares for it

Just imagine him getting out a little backpack with a sunhat, sunglasses, sunscreen, water bottle, umbrella, cooling sleeves, etc…

That’s not for him tho that’s for you he puts on sunglasses and is good to go

During summer he loves going to markets and buying fruit bc that’s when it’s best

Lots of strawberries, grapes and tangerines

Constantly reminds you to wear sun protection

He likes being outside a lot actually and will take you to his favorite parks and places to hike

Nikto

The change of seasons does not affect him much

He’ll notice the change of weather one day and mention how much warmer it is

“It’s summer” “Oh, we should go camping soon…”

He’ll take you camping whether you like it or not insisting that you will like it

Sets a tent near the river to catch fish

He also likes to plant vegetables during the nice weather and bring them to you, proudly showing off his hard work rewarded

He likes to cook meals together and eat outside

[chilling-seavey]

Love Thy Neighbour (gr63) - Part One

↳ A/N Still waiting for Apple to invent the iTimeMachine so I can go back to the 80s when Andrew Ridgeley was in his prime. Anyway, please enjoy house husband George slaying the 1980s suburbia. Comments, reblogs, and predictions are always welcome!!

↳ Inspired By: 'Everything She Wants' by Wham! and 'Heartbeat' by Wham!

↳ Summary: It’s the end of summer 1984 and you and your perfect little family moves into a quaint suburban neighbourhood to escape the hustle and bustle of the Manhattan lifestyle. Your next door neighbours are a picture-perfect family of their own - or so it seems from the outside. But, as you spend more time with the handsome husband, the cracks in your own 'perfect' marriage start to come to light.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Neighbour!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 22.6k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, slow burn, cheating/adultery (i don't condone this but, boy, does it make for a juicy plot), use of explicit language, female masturbation, non-consenting voyeurism, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, choking, unprotected sex (and extramarital creampie)

September 1984

The house was straight out of the recent issue of Better Home magazine and even as you stepped out of the passenger seat of the station wagon, you were in awe of the New England architecture. Crisp white siding and red painted shutters over spotless picture windows; it was hard to believe it was all yours. It was nowhere near the small ancient apartment that you were used to in the city - although you certainly wore that place thin until the seams were bursting. It was about time you made the move out of Manhattan and into the nearby suburbs. The American Dream was in the palm of your hand. 

Your husband, Andrew, set his hand on the small of your back and dangled the set of shiny keys over your shoulder with his other, “Want to test the locks?”

You smiled back at him and grabbed them out of his hand before hurrying along the front path to the modest porch and welcoming front door. He followed behind you closely, glancing over his shoulder on the way in expectation of a follower of his own, but the young boy was already busy rushing across the freshly mowed lawn. 

“Richard,” your husband called for him as you turned the key in the lock, the faint remnants of his English accent ghosting through his words, “Come see inside!”

Unbothered, your five-year-old son didn’t even look up as he dropped to his knees beside the garden bed, “No thanks!”

You glanced across the sprawling green grass yourself, “Don’t you want to see your room?”

The little boy’s head perked up in your direction at your very convincing offer and his big brown eyes shone in the sunlight. He shot up from the ground, “Okay!” 

He took the four front stone steps with ease and rushed right past you into the house, making a beeline right for the straight run staircase just inside. You called a reminder after him to hold the handrail but he was already at the top by the time the final word left your mouth. 

Still on the front porch, you and your husband shared calm little smiles over your shared adoration for your little boy, and then he was gesturing you inside first. You stepped over the threshold onto the hardwood floors and you took your time soaking in the modern floral wallpaper that trimmed the foyer and led into the formal living room through the archway to the right. It looked so empty without furniture but it also held so much promise and possibility within the brand new walls. 

Through the living room you could loop into the dining room that overlooked the spacious backyard framed in lush trees and a wooden fence separating the property from the neighbours on either side. The backyard view was perfect from the kitchen sink, giving you a perfect spot to keep an eye on your son playing while you could do the dishes or prep dinner. You had fallen in love with this house the moment you saw it in the real estate section of the newspaper - a new build in a quaint suburb of Connecticut - but at first glance you had figured it would only be a dream. It was hard to believe that your husband and your finances were on board. With a growing little boy, it was time to move out of that tiny one-and-a-half bedroom apartment in Manhattan. Now, with three full bedrooms upstairs, the future was far more open. 

You hadn’t realized you were daydreaming at the empty kitchen sink before your husband gave your shoulders a squeeze, bringing you back to your content reality, “The moving truck should be here soon. Should we start unpacking the car?”

Leaning back into him, you agreed with a smile, “Alright.”

He wrapped his arms around your middle and pressed a kiss to your cheek before he was pulling away just as quickly and disappearing into the foyer and towards the front door.

Andrew always lived a lively life and somehow you managed to keep up. He always wanted to be out doing things such as date nights on the town rather than picking up after-hour client dinners just to socialize and bring in more money for his company - and, ultimately, himself and your family. It was so nice when you were younger and you were in love and willing to follow him to the ends of the earth but the reality of parenthood made you more tired than you used to be. Suddenly, nights out felt tedious and the airtime was always filled with business talk or discussions of Richard’s school. It all felt a bit like a chore. But maybe that just came with growing up. You were loved, you were secure, and you had a beautiful roof over your head. You swore you had nothing to complain about. 

The moving truck pulled into your driveway not long after your trusty station wagon had only been unpacked about halfway. It was going to be a long day but you tied your hair back and made sure your son was kept busy when you could and Andrew and the movers took over most of the heavy lifting, leaving you to rearrange boxes and direct them inside the house. It was always your responsibility to take care of your son so it wasn’t unusual for you to keep busy with finding him a snack from your cooler once that was brought in from the car. The kitchen table followed not long after from the moving truck and the two of you sat at the table together with Jell-O cups. 

Richard would be starting kindergarten in only a week and part of you was worried about what on earth you were going to busy yourself with once he was gone. Being a stay at home mom, your sole job was caring for him and since there were no other kids on your agenda as of yet, you were painfully preparing to be completely alone from 9-3 every week day. You tried not to worry about it as you watched your five-year-old eat his cherry Jell-O and you reached out a hand to brush through his frazzled dark brown hair, trying to pet it down into some sort of order. Even the gel that you had slicked through it that morning seemed to not be doing its job anymore but that seemed to be common with a lively little boy. You truly loved him with everything in you and those big brown eyes could just melt your heart with one look. He was his father’s son through and through. 

Being an only child, Richard got bored pretty easily on moving day so it wasn’t long before you sent him outside to the front yard to play while the truck was finished unloading and you and Andrew tended to the organization inside. With the windows open, the late summer air breezed through the freshly painted house and one of the first things you set up was your record player in the living room so you could have some music while you worked. 

Soon, Richard came rushing back inside and across the carpeted living room floor in his outdoor running shoes, earning a lightly scolding “Ritchie” out of you. 

“Mommy, there’s kids next door. Can I play with them?” he asked, ignoring your quiet scold of his name as he clutched onto the hem of your sky blue shorts pleadingly, batting those sweet long lashes up at you. 

You pet your hand over his soft hair, “Sure, baby. Stay close though, okay?” 

“Okay!” 

He was already halfway out the front door again before the single word reply was even completely out of his mouth. With a few trinkets in your hand that you had been taking out a box of arrange in the curio cabinet, you drifted over to the large picture window overlooking the front lawn. Two kids around Richard’s age were playing on the quiet tree-lined street on big wheel tricycles and your son ran over to them to introduce himself. You smiled fondly at the sociable nature of your son that was quite unlike your own traits, watching the children play for a few more moments as Richard was given a turn on the bike, before you were moving back to your boxes. 

As the afternoon wore on and you grew tired, you had just enough energy to make dinner - something simple and quick - and soon you were stepping out onto the front porch to call your son back in to eat. He said goodbye to his two new friends and then hurried over to you just as you noticed two people crossing over your lawn towards you. 

“Hey there!” the woman called politely. 

Richard stood in front of you nosily, watching them, and he wrapped an arm around your leg. Your next door neighbours approached you across your lawn, a man and woman maybe only a few years your senior, and the man held a white bakeware dish covered in tinfoil in his hands.

“Hi.” you greeted them with a smile. 

They were clearly a well kept pair as if they had been cut from a magazine themselves with the husband in tidy blue jeans and a tucked in button up and the wife with her blonde hair tied back in an impressive updo. She had on dress slacks and a blazer with posh shoulder pads, earning a lighthearted envious glance out of you at her style as you accepted her handshake and she spoke again, “I’m Jennifer and this is my husband, George. We just live next door and saw you moving in so we wanted to introduce ourselves.”

“How lovely.” you smiled, moving on to shake her husband’s hand, trying not to be intimidated by the electric blue eyes staring back at you as you introduced yourself and your son.

Your five-year-old peered up at them behind waves of dark hair that tumbled over his big brown eyes despite the way you swooped it out of his face yet again. 

“Are those your little ones?” you asked, gesturing over to the street where the two kids were still playing. 

Jennifer glanced over to the children before looking back at you, “Yeah. Those are ours. James and Nancy.” 

“It was really nice of them to let Ritchie play today.” you started. 

The adult conversation got boring quickly for the five-year-old so he slid out from under your maternal touch and slipped inside without a word or goodbye. 

“He’s an only child,” you explained, “so he sometimes gets a little lonely…especially in a new neighbourhood and all.”

“Oh, of course.” Jennifer tisked.

“Is he starting school this year?” George asked.

It was the first time you heard him speak apart from a brief greeting drowned out by his wife but it didn’t phase you. The hint of a British accent across his words didn't either, all too used to the same from your own husband. How likely that the suburbs of America brought two Brits as next-door neighbours. Comedically written in the stars, or something of the sort.

“Yeah, he’ll be starting kindergarten next week.” you exhaled, “Big steps.”

“So is James.” George said, “I’m sure they’ll be in the same class. Would be good for them to have a little friend before being thrown into a classroom.”

“Oh, that’d be great.” you sighed thankfully, setting a hand to your chest, “Even that alone brings so much ease to the conscience. I’ve been worried about how he’d transition to this whole new place.”

George smiled knowingly, “And especially when your first is going off to school for the first time.” 

“Definitely.” 

Footsteps across the foyer floor behind you pulled your attention away from your new neighbours to your husband stepping out onto the porch with you to see what was taking so long - undoubtedly you were tattled on by your five-year-old. You welcomed his arm around your waist as you introduced your new neighbours to him and him to them and they shared brief pleasantries. 

“We won’t keep you.” Jennifer took a step back, “I know it’s probably close to dinner time.”

George took one step up onto the stone stairs of your porch to offer out the bakeware, “We just wanted to bring you a little something to say welcome to the neighbourhood.”

“That’s so thoughtful. Thank you so much!” you took it from him.

“Such a nice change to have nice neighbours after the nightmare of living in Manhattan.” Andrew joked. 

“Oh, totally. We don’t mess with the city-dwellers.” George waved his hand casually, rising light laughter among your little group. He took a step back towards his wife who was already clearly trying to urge him back towards their house, but he reiterated honestly, “Anything you need, we’re right next door. Don’t be strangers.”

“Thanks a lot!” Andrew raised his hand up in a brief wave and you wished them a good night as they herded their two kids back towards their house and you were gently steered back inside by your husband. 

The apple crisp was placed on the kitchen counter and you served some for dessert to your little family. It wasn’t chocolate, candy, or ice cream so Richard wasn’t too impressed, but as adults, you and Andrew both swore it was the best dessert you had in a while - even surpassing your own. You made a mental note to find a way to thank the neighbours next time you saw them.

Having just moved in, your available time was few and far between throughout that weekend and into the beginning of the following week. Your plethora of boxes that needed unpacking as well as your young son who needed to be prepared and set for his first day of school kept you busy and it didn’t help that after the weekend, Andrew was back to work full time, needing to leave earlier to commute into the city and ultimately getting home later for that same reason. You were just appreciating the last few days you had with your son before he was going to be in school for the next two decades. The looming loneliness almost had you craving another baby but the time just never felt right. 

Wednesday was Richard’s first day of school and he was that perfect expected mix of nervous and excited. He was already eating his cereal at the kitchen table with his eyes glued to the TV in the adjacent family room when Andrew returned from his early morning run to get ready for work before the sun had even passed the horizon. With a five-year-old, every morning was an early morning but a commuting husband only stressed that fact further. 

In his white t-shirt and short white Fila shorts, Andrew was quite the looker as he joined you and your son in the kitchen for good morning kisses before he had to run upstairs to shower and get ready for the day. The white clothing stood out against his tanned skin and dark features right down to the white socks and running shoes. He was still that tall, dark, and handsome stranger you fell in love with those few short years ago and the way your eyes trailed after his legs in those itty bitty shorts only had the desire to fill the second bedroom upstairs heating across your cheeks. But you quickly turned back to your work at the counter prepping Richard’s lunch for school. 

Andrew was gone in under an hour and your driveway was left empty as he took the family car for his commute to the train station where he would then take transit into the city. Since the car would be gone every day, Richard was set to take the school bus to school which was a whole new experience for both the five-year-old and yourself. You held his hand as you closed your front door behind you and started on your short walk down the front path of your house and along the curb of the street to the bus stop. Richard’s blue backpack looked almost huge on his back and he carried his metal Flintstones lunch box in the hand that wasn’t claimed by yours. 

At the nearest intersection in your quiet suburbia, a few parents and kids were already standing there and waiting for the bus. Richard tugged at your hand and when you looked down at him, he took his hand out of yours to point to the small forming crowd, “I see James, Mommy!”

“You can go run and say hello. I won’t go anywhere.” you promised. 

He rushed across the street to the sidewalk and met up with his neighbourly friend he had met on moving day. Sure enough, James’ father was also waiting for the bus to arrive like some of the other parents with his daughter sitting in his arms, and as you approached, you shared quiet ‘good morning’s. 

“First day jitters?” you asked lightheartedly. 

“Yeah,” George sighed with a melancholy smile, “Although more so me, apparently.”

“Preaching to the choir.” you agreed. 

There was a pause as you both stared fondly at your boys talking excitedly together with their seemingly huge backpacks and perfectly styled first-day-of-school hair. You sensed yourself being stared at so you looked back to him only to find the culprit being his young daughter perched in his arms. 

“Good morning to you too.” you said sweetly to her. She smiled shyly and leaned her head against George’s as if to hide from you as a stranger. 

He rubbed her back and coaxed her, “Say ‘good morning’, Nance.”

She shook her head and tightened her little arms around his shoulders. 

“Oh, I wanted to thank you and your wife for the delicious apple crisp.” you said, steering the subject away from the unwanted attention to the shy little girl. George glanced at you as you continued, “Andrew and I agreed that it was the best we’ve ever had.”

“That’s great to hear! I’m glad you enjoyed it. I just found the recipe in the recent issue of Home Cooking magazine and thought I’d give it a try.”

Your eyes widened, “You made it?”

George chuckled, “Yeah. I made it. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Well…no…I guess not.” you stammered, trying to collect your words before you embarrassed yourself, “I’ve just never seen my husband pick up a measuring cup yet alone a whole recipe in all six years we’ve been together. I’m impressed.”

He simply shrugged modestly and gave his daughter a little bounce to try and bring a smile to her face, “Baking is just something I like to do in my spare time when I’m not running after these two crazies.” 

“I’ll get that bakeware back to you this week. Don’t want to keep you from your passion projects.”

“No rush!” George promised, “I have plenty.”

“Mommy!” Richard ran right into your legs, burying his face against your thigh, and you only had to glance up to find the cause of his panic was the yellow school bus turning the corner. 

“Aw, Ritchie.” you smiled fondly and crouched down in front of him to take his soft face in your hands, “You and James are gonna have so much fun today! And when you get home, I will meet you right here in this very same spot and we’re going to have spaghetti and meatballs for dinner…your favourite.”

He threw his arms around your neck and you held him close as the bus stopped by the curb and opened the doors for the kids. The older few got on with no issues but a few of the younger ones were facing the similar sense of anxiety as Richard was. Even James was lingering close to George despite the way he tried to play it off. 

“Okay, my handsome boy.” you gently guided your son away from you and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “The faster you go, the faster you come home!”

He nodded sadly. 

George added with a pat to his son’s head, “You two stick together today, alright?”

The boys nodded.

You told your son you loved him and left him with one more kiss before he and his new friend were getting on the school bus together with the rest of the kids. You and George waited there until the bus was long gone around the corner and the other parents started to disperse. Since you were next door neighbours, the two of you walked back towards home together with the added company of George’s daughter still in his arms. 

“What are your plans for today?” he asked you casually as you navigated the tree lined street. 

“Still unpacking a little.” you confessed. “I feel like it’s been going on forever.” 

“I don’t miss that.” he chuckled faintly, “When Jenn and I moved here when we were expecting James it felt like we were never going to get out of the hoard of boxes.” 

“Truly. But I just put on my records and get busy.” you shrugged, tucking your hands in the pockets of your blue jeans. 

“Are you much of a music listener?” George asked. 

“Oh, yes. I’ve been playing Bryan Adam’s album on basically repeat since it came out last year.”

“Cuts Like A Knife?”

You looked over at him with a grin, “Yeah! You know it?”

“Of course. I’m quite into music myself.”

“So is Andy.” you looked back to the street beneath your feet with each slow step side by side, “We met in a music club one night back in ‘78 and you could say he literally swept me off my feet. He plays some guitar but I can’t play an instrument to save my life. We’re hoping Ritchie gets his talent.”

A small smirk tugged at the corner of George’s lips but he nodded modestly, “That’s great. Jenn and I have the same mindset for our two - although I don’t know if she has any musical talent because she claims she never has the time.”

“Maybe I should use that excuse.” you chuckled, “I might deafen you if I ever pick up Andy’s guitar - or if he ever lets me. So if you hear anything that sounds like a dying cat from the next house over, that’s just me and my wonderful musical renditions.”

Stopping by the curb between your two houses, George shared in your smile and your gaze lingered on the way his light eyes shone in the morning sun. He hiked his daughter a bit higher on his hip and readjusted his hands under her bum as he replied smoothly, “I doubt you’re that bad.”

You waved your hand passively as if to brush off his niceties, “You don’t know the half of it. Anyway, all you’ll be hearing is my record player. Please tell me if it gets too loud and disruptive. I can get carried away sometimes.”

“I won’t, but it’s a kind offer.” he smiled with a cock of his head. “Seems you like good music anyway so who am I to complain?” 

You set your hands on your hips with an up-turn of your nose in his direction, a mirrored amused smile on your lips at his playfulness, “Well then, I take my role as neighbourhood DJ very seriously. Any requests, you know where I live.”

“I might take you up on that; watch out.” 

Your conversation naturally faded out under the waving shade of the lush trees that stretched over your suburban street like a canopy and Nancy tapped George’s cheek shyly to get his attention. He looked at her expectantly and she leaned in to whisper to him under the presence of a stranger - you. The quietness of his youngest had George smiling fondly and he rubbed her back with a soft “okay” before looking to you, 

“We have to head back - important date with cartoons and snacks are awaiting us.”

“Of course.” you took a step back towards your lawn, “It was nice seeing you again.”

“You too. And I’m sure we’ll see each other again in the same spot at 3pm sharp.” 

You nodded, “That we will.”

Then, he headed across the lawn towards his house that was nestled closely beside yours and with the satisfaction of a nice conversation with your new neighbour fresh in your heart, you made your way into your own house to start your first day all alone. 

It wasn’t until the next day that you were able to bring over the bakeware to your neighbours’ since you wanted to make a point to wash it first. Richard was off at school again and after lunch you walked across your shared lawn to the house beside yours, sparkling white dish in your hands. You ascended the few stone steps to the front door and knocked against the glass, hidden from the inside by sheer curtains. After only a few moments, someone appeared behind the door and then it was opened to reveal George. 

He smiled warmly at you, “Hey, neighbour.”

You couldn’t hide your slight startle from seeing him, trying to play it cool with a friendly smile and the bakeware held out towards him, “Hi. I brought back your dish. Washed up and everything.”

“Oh, thanks so much.” he took it from you, “You didn’t have to wash it. I’m sure you already have enough on your plate.”

“No trouble. It was the least I could do.” you assured him.

“Did you want to come in?” he asked, “If you don’t have more boxes to unpack.”

You chuckled softly, “I could actually use a break from that overwhelming presence of cardboard.” 

“Yeah?” he stepped aside with a warm smile and a cock of his head, “Come on in.” 

The wood paneled foyer welcomed you in and you stepped over the threshold with a quiet thank you, your flat shoes landing dully against the linoleum tile floors. George shut the door behind you and led you straight through the modest house towards the kitchen, passed the foyer console table that was lined with photographs of his children around a centred wedding photo of him and Jennifer. Your eyes skimmed them on the way past as you followed him into the kitchen. 

“I couldn’t help but expect your wife to answer.” you confessed once you passed by the stairs and entered into the kitchen at the back of the house, the fluorescent lighted ceiling tiles really brightening the space with that 1984 modern touch, “Are you taking the day off?”

“Nope. Everyday is a work day for me. I’m a stay at home dad…Jenn brings home the bacon.” George explained as he opened one of the wood cabinets and crouched down to stack the clean bakeware with the rest under the counter. He then walked around the small island to the corner of the kitchen where the kettle was resting on the stove, “Would you like tea or anything?”

“Tea would be lovely.” 

He filled the kettle at the kitchen sink before setting it on the stove again and turning on the heat to boil the water. You stood just out of the way, head whirling with the concept that he was the one who stayed home while his wife worked. You couldn’t help but be nosy. 

“So what does Jennifer do for work?” 

George opened the fridge to take out the carton of milk, “She’s an executive assistant to some big shot CEO in the city. He’s pretty demanding so she’s always somewhere or another.”

“That’s impressive.” 

“Yeah, I’m proud of her.” George pulled a tight lipped smile as he fetched two mugs from one of the cupboards and set them on the counter as the kettle boiled. “We knew when we got married that we wanted at least one of us to be home with the kids as they grew up and her job was already pretty set in stone and secure so we agreed that I’d take the at-home responsibilities.”

“Hence the apple crisp skills.”

“Exactly.” George leaned back against the counter opposite you and he crossed his arms over his chest casually, “Although with two little ones, I’m surprised I have time for much of that. It’s so hectic sometimes. I guess that’s the one good thing about James going off to school now; one less kiddo to chase after during the day.”

“Oh, gosh, I’m sure.” you agreed politely before glancing around the unfamiliar house, “Where’s your other?”

“Napping. We went to the park earlier then had lunch and she was knackered. I’m sure she won’t bother us.”

“Never a bother.” you tisked, “I love kids.”

“But you only have one?” George asked before quickly following it up with a, “Sorry if that’s an invasive statement.”

“No, no. You’re fine.” you shrugged, “Where we lived before was a tiny apartment in Manhattan that Andrew had bought when he was a bachelor after moving from London. Ritchie was literally sleeping in the den with the desk and filing cabinet and things. There was literally no room for another kid.”

“And the time was right to move into a proper house?”

“Yeah. We didn’t feel totally settled in the city and with a young kid I felt like he needed a yard to run around in.”

“I understand that. That’s why we moved out here after we were married. The appeal is just so much nicer than Manhattan when thinking of settling down.” 

There was something about George that felt so trustworthy and kind and you found yourself easily relaxing in his company enough to confess, “We didn’t have the luxury of planning. Our relationship was a little…out of order.” 

The whistle on the kettle blew and George turned to take it off the stove and shut off the heat while also continuing your conversation, “Out of order? What do you mean?”

“Well…we got married because I was pregnant.” 

George’s lips formed a silent ‘o’ in realization and he glanced over at you for a brief moment as he filled the mugs, not quite knowing what to say.

“Married at 20 isn’t totally ideal.” you chuckled, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the tile floor. “But we were in love so it was okay. And Richard is the best kid we could have asked for.”

“All worked out then.” George said with a kind smile in your direction. 

You nodded faintly, “Yeah.”

“Milk? Sugar?” he asked with a gesture to the filled and steeping mugs. 

“Milk would be great, thanks.” 

George prepped the tea and even grabbed a few cookies from the cookie jar to place on a plate for your early afternoon snack and then you followed him back down the hallway and towards the formal living room adjacent to the foyer, passing the photographs once again. The built-in bookcases along the far wall housed more pictures and trinkets from over the years and your eyes lingered on them as you sat on the blue upholstered couch and George arranged your drinks on coasters on the cherry coffee table. With you on one end of the couch, he sat on the other end with a respectable distance between you. 

“I was just admiring your photographs.” you confessed when you finally tore your gaze away from the collection across the shelves and you leaned forward to grab your tea with a quiet thanks to him. 

“Yeah.” he smiled fondly as he glanced over the frames he was all too familiar with, “I like having them around.” 

“The wedding one in the foyer was really sweet.” 

George sipped his tea with that gentle upturn of his lips and an acknowledging, “Mhm.”

“How long have you two been married?”

George leaned back on the couch and looked to the ceiling in thought, his mug held at a rest on top of his blue jean clad thigh, “We were married in ‘77 I think…the years seem to get a little foggy. And Jenn doesn’t like to make a big deal about anniversaries so it’s not like we diligently keep track.”

“Oh. Why doesn’t she like to make a big deal?”

He shrugged, “Dunno, really. I think she’s so busy all the time that having one less thing to worry about is easier. The first few years were celebrated and even planned the odd stay-cation but after the five year mark and having kids…it’s just easier to not really bother as much.”

“I guess so. I think Andy and I are the same way…although we never really had the money for stay-cations or elaborate gifts anyway. He’ll just buy me flowers.” 

“Flowers are good.” George smiled over at you. 

“Yeah.” you exhaled.

“I’m more of the romantic one in my marriage but Jenn isn’t into the whole bit of gifts and time and whatnot so I’ve had to learn to cut back or she gets so overwhelmed.”

You frowned and met his gaze, “That makes me sad.”

He shrugged with a melancholy smile, “Eh, it’s okay. We had our share of mushy love in high school anyway. Maybe we’re just too old for all that now.” 

“High school sweethearts?” you pried. 

“Mhm.” George’s eyes sparkled. “Met her in our first year of high school when my family had just moved here from London. We were the graduating class of ‘73.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to do the mental math for a moment before finally asking, “So how old are you then?”

George cocked his head to the side with an amused expression, “How old do you think I am?”

“I don’t want to answer that.” you laughed, tucking your hair behind your ear as you looked down to your steaming mug of tea held in your lap. 

He spared you with his answer, “I’m 29.”

“Okay, not far off from us. We’re both 26.” you added. 

“Still young.” George bantered lightly, “Did you want more kids? Now that you have a bigger house and all.”

“Yeah. I’ve always wanted a whole bunch…Andrew not so much though. He took some time to warm up to Ritchie when I told him I was pregnant the first time so I’m not sure how he’d feel about the pitch of a second.”

“Doesn’t hurt to ask. Marriage is all about give and take, right?”

George’s statement inflicted a bit of ache in your chest as it forced you to reflect back on your six years with Andrew and the desires and plans of your own that you had pushed down to help him thrive in his own life and career. You sipped your tea quietly without a reply, taking a second to daydream about the filled house you had always wanted ever since you were a little girl. A house full of kids and a little job for yourself on the side and a husband who treated you like a queen. You were treated well by him - that was never a question - but everything always felt as if it was falling short to your expectations. 

“Sorry.” George’s voice tore you from your thoughts, “I don’t mean to force my way into your marriage as some sort of psychologist.” 

“No, no. That’s okay. It just has me thinking.” you looked over at him again with a melancholy smile, “We were just so young and I didn’t really have a chance to know myself or what I wanted before we got married. Andy’s such a good guy but sometimes there’s some sort of disconnect in what we both strive for.”

“That’s fair. But even time doesn’t guarantee that perfect connection. Like how Jenn and I differ with what we want in terms of romance and showing our love. I love the words, the gifts, the intimacy…whereas she just likes when I do her laundry or make her lunch.”

“Got those reverse gender roles, huh?”  

George cracked a half smile, “That’s actually very true. I finish tidying this entire house by the time she gets home from work, the kids are already bathed and in bed, and she’s ‘too tired’ to spend any time with me. Honestly, I don’t even know how we ended up with two kids.”

You both shared faint laughter behind casual sips of your tea. 

“That’s not much different on our side of the fence.” you agreed. “Must be that working world that just absolutely obliterates someone’s intimacy desires. Is it that tiring?”

“Commuting an hour and a half into the city there and back every day doesn’t help.”

You tisked, “Of course not.”

“It’s easy to feel lonely. I didn’t understand it when I was growing up…seeing my mom being a homemaker and all…but when you’re in it…”

It was the first time someone truly acknowledged how you felt - and a man at that. Even your husband didn’t quite get it, but why would he? But suddenly this stranger was speaking the words that you were too ashamed to even think about and you felt like a weight of a cloud was pulled from your shoulders. 

“Yeah.” you breathed, sharing the air across the couch with your unwavering gazes, “That’s exactly it.”

“And then your kids grow up…”

“And then what do you have?” you concluded his sentence, “What is your purpose after that?”

George tisked lightly and scooted slightly closer so he could set his hand on your knee, “You have purpose, okay? You’re not just a mother and not just a homemaker and not just a wife. You’re a woman too.”

You bit lightly at your bottom lip, staring into his gorgeous blue eyes that suddenly seemed to push a warmth through your chest and up to your cheeks. 

“You have purpose and you have value.” he told you like he was telling you the most honest truth. 

“Thank you.” you mouthed back, worried that if you spoke out loud, your voice might break. 

He gave your knee a gentle reassuring squeeze, “Of course.”

You both stayed there, frozen, for a moment, just staring at each other. You felt some sort of warmth all around you from more than just the half empty mug of tea still clutched in your hands, realizing how close you were now. Tearing your gaze away from his light eyes, you naturally glanced at his lips and watched as they perked up at the corner in a gentle smile, moulding the shape of his soft lips and his precisely shaped cupid's bow that you couldn’t help but stare at.

The moment you got the urge to lean in, you turned your head away from him and cleared your throat as you set your mug on the coffee table. His hand was removed from your leg. 

“I should go…” you mumbled. 

George stood when you did, “Okay.”

“Thank you…for the tea and the company.” you said to the ground as if scared to look at him in fear of feeling those strange warm flutters again. 

“Of course. I’m always here…whenever you want to talk or anything.” he promised before leaning down to pick up the plate of untouched cookies, “Biscuit for the long journey home?”

You smiled at his playfulness and when you grabbed one from the plate, you finally looked him in the eye again, “Thank you.” 

“Let me walk you out.” 

He held his arm out for you to urge you to lead the way and you slid between him and the coffee table to make your way to the front door, trying not to focus on the scent of his cologne as you drifted by him so closely. You needed to get out of there. 

You barely remembered saying goodbye or the ghostly touch to your arm he offered in passing before you were out in the fresh air of your neighbourhood and you were trying not to stumble down his front path. The cookie was still held in your hand and your startled eyes darted back over your shoulder to his shut front door before you broke out into a brisk walk across the lawn and onto your own property. 

In the peace of your house, you shut your own front door once back inside and you leaned against it heavily, your chest rising and falling in your half panicked breaths. Nothing had happened but it felt like it had and the strange feeling of guilt bubbled up in your stomach. You had never before had thoughts of another man apart from Andrew but you pinned it to George’s manners and how he only said what you wanted to hear. There was nothing to feel guilty about because absolutely nothing happened. Just because you thought something didn’t mean you did anything wrong. 

The cookie was still in your hand and you pushed yourself away from the door to take it straight into the kitchen and you tossed it in the garbage bin, closing the lid loudly. 

Andrew got home around 6:45, just when you were putting dinner on the table. Richard hopped out of his chair to greet him with an excited hug and your husband crouched down to meet him with a wide grin and open arms. He asked his son how school was and half listened to his youthful explanation of his day as he greeted you with a kiss to the corner of your mouth and drifted past you to his seat at your dining room table. 

You ate together as a family like you almost always did and then when Andrew retired to the family room to wind down and watch some TV, you took Richard upstairs to get ready for bed. The little boy was bathed and dressed and afterwards he rushed downstairs to say goodnight to his father before you were tucking him into his single bed in his blue wallpapered room. You always loved watching your son fall asleep; there was something so peaceful about it and gave you a moment to admire his soft features without him running away with youthful exuberance. With a kiss to his head, you left him to sleep and shit his door behind you before making your way back downstairs. 

MTV was playing on the chunky TV across the family room and Andrew glanced up at you from the couch when you entered. He held his arm up and you gladly took the spot beside him and cuddled up close. He rested his head against yours with a soft sigh as he focused back on the music video he was watching with the host of MTV counting up that week's hits from the charts. 

“Imagine if I was #1.” he spoke quietly, almost dreamily. “Making it big in some internationally known band rather than rotting in some office in Manhattan. We’d have the money to afford an even bigger house.” 

You hummed plainly in acknowledgement and slid your arm around his middle as if in some desire to melt completely into him. 

Your lack of response had him looking over at you, “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” you mumbled.  

You weren’t looking at him but you could feel how he stayed staring at you for a few more seconds before he turned back to the TV too, not wanting to press you further. But then you shifted at his side so you could tuck your legs under yourself on the couch and face him properly. 

“Andy.”

“What’s up, sugar?” he rested his head back against his couch so he could look at you again. 

The random pop music video played on in the background. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” you confessed, trailing the hem of his collared work shirt with your finger. 

“Alright.” he leaned forward to mute the TV and the smiling dancers danced to nothing on the screen, giving you his full attention. 

When he was settled back in his spot on the couch, his big brown eyes on you and his hand on your thigh right where George’s had been earlier that day, you just blurted it out, “I want to have another baby.”

Said big brown eyes blinked at you once, twice, then his eyebrows furrowed for a half second before he spoke, “Oh.”

“We have a bigger house now and that empty room upstairs has been just calling to me or something. And I’ve always wanted many kids and Ritchie is the best we could ask for…where’s the harm in having a second of him?”

Andrew sighed and gave your thigh a squeeze just like George had, “I dunno, sugar.”

“Why not?” you frowned and leaned in closer to him, almost pleadingly. 

“Well, work is busy so I won’t be home much and we just are getting settled in this new place-”

“We’ll still have nine months to prepare!” you reminded him quickly. 

Andrew laughed lightly towards the carpet, “Yes, I know, but now Ritchie’s away at school and he’s already big and-”

“Which means I won’t have my hands as full taking care of a baby and a kid at home.”

“I don’t think we need another. I am perfectly happy with our little family as is. Aren’t you?”

You nibbled at your bottom lip as you stared at him while he looked at you expectantly and everything in your heart wanted to tell him no but your quiet voice abandoned you with a soft, “Yeah, I guess.”

Andrew lifted his hand from your lap to tuck your hair behind your ear before pulling you close by his arm around your shoulders, “Maybe you’re just saying this because you’re not used to being alone since Ritchie started school.”

“Maybe.” you muttered. 

“I am very happy with the life we have. I don’t need anything more.” he tried to be sweet about it but your heart ached and even as he kissed the corner of your mouth, you had to force the smile to come to your lips. 

Andrew rested his head against yours as he unmuted the TV and the top hit pop song filled your family room and the big house that felt empty in your heart. Your eyes drifted away from the screen to peer through the adjacent window that looked out towards the neighbour’s property and although only looking at red brick and white siding, you silently and guiltily wished you had what they had.

Since Richard had no siblings, you knew that it would be important for him to socialize outside of school with kids his own age at various activities. He had expressed interest in baseball not long before so you jumped on the opportunity to sign him up for the local little league team just before the fall season was set to start. You, yourself, were excited for a bit of a distraction after the ultimate letdown that was your conversation with your husband a few evenings prior although Andrew went about his days like nothing was wrong. 

On Tuesday evening, you were getting Richard into his baseball uniform for his first practice, making sure that the shirt and pants fit him properly on his young body that seemed to be growing faster than you could buy clothes for it. He stood proudly in his mirror in his room as you adjusted his navy blue baseball cap over his dark hair and swooped his messy bangs out of his face. Grinning up at you in approval, he didn’t even have to say a word for you to read exactly what was on his mind. 

“You look so grown up, Ritchie!” you gushed, crouching down to his height for one last shirt adjustment, “You excited?”

“Yeah! I’m gonna get a home run!” he announced. 

“I bet you are!” you held up your hand and he smacked his little palm against yours for a high five. “Come now, let’s show Daddy and then get your shoes on.” 

Richard rushed right out of his bedroom and hurried down the stairs in his socked feet, “Daddy, I’m ready!” 

Andrew was already waiting by the front door and seeing his son coming down the stairs brought a beaming grin to his face, “Looking so spiffy, little slugger.” 

You passed over the baseball shoes to your husband, “Can you put his shoes on for him while I get the snacks?”

“Of course.” Andrew took the pair from you and crouched down in front of the little boy who obediently rested his hands on his father’s shoulders and stuck one foot out for a shoe. 

You returned to the kitchen that still had the dinner dishes in the sink in need of washing but time was already cutting it close and you were already in a bit of a rush to get to the field in time. The cooler was packed and sitting beside the fridge and you checked that the watermelon slices and Hi-C juice boxes were tucked away with some bags of ice before locking the lid and carrying it back down the hallway to your family. Andrew took the cooler from you to carry it to the car himself and you ushered your excited five-year-old out of the door after him so you could close up the house. 

As you walked down the front path to the driveway, you couldn’t help but glance over to your neighbours’ and notice their family car was missing from their house. You forced yourself to ignore the curiosity that was getting the better of you as you had been in a constant strive to pretend absolutely nothing had happened between you and George. In reality, nothing did happen, but the strange feeling of guilt was eating at your heart. Some distance would do just the trick, you were sure. 

It was nice to have Andrew able to come to Richard’s first little league practice, especially after he was tired from a long day of commuting and work, but you thanked him silently with a quick kiss to his cheek as you climbed in the passenger seat of your station wagon. His warm smile back at you still managed to bring that little flutter to your heart after your six years together and you broke his gaze to glance to your son in the back seat. Richard gave you two thumbs up and a beaming grin that was all his father’s, making his big brown eyes scrunch closed at the corners, all ready to go to his first event. 

The community park was only about a five minute drive from your house and once Andrew pulled into the gravel parking lot, it appeared that there were still some families pulling up. The baseball diamond looked busy though so you hurried to get your son all signed in and so he could meet his teammates and coach. Andrew took the cooler and your hand while Richard ran ahead in his own determination to socialize. You joined the queue of parents by the team dugout who were signing in their sons and as you waited, you both watched Richard help himself to the group of boys who were playing in the red sand of the baseball diamond, all in matching navy blue uniforms with their own chosen number on their backs. 

After a few moments, Andrew gave your hand a squeeze to get your attention, “I’m going to put the cooler down and find us a spot on the bleachers. You okay to sign him in?”

“Of course.” you agreed. 

He left you with a brief kiss before heading off to the metal bleachers that were already dotted with parents and families alike. You watched him go for a few seconds before turning back to the lineup you were in, only to find yourself face to face with George himself. You were so startled that you nearly choked over your breath but he just smiled cooly. 

“Hello, neighbour.”

“Hey.” you stumbled out. “Hi. What are you doing here?”

George glanced down at his blue baseball jersey and then back to you with a casual wave of the clipboard in his hand, “I’m the coach.”

“Oh, right, of course you are.” you chuckled faintly. 

“Your boy signing up?”

“Yeah, his name should be on the list. Richard Ridgeley.”

George, who had looked down at his clipboard after his initial question, only glanced back up at you with his eyebrows raised. 

“What?” you asked worriedly.

He licked away his smile and looked back down to his list with a half shake of his head, “Nothing.”

If it was anyone else, you would have been mad, but it was George and you knew he meant no harm. You couldn’t help but smother a smile of your own in return, “Are you making fun of my son’s name?”

“Not at all. I love alliteration. Very poetic.” 

“Okay, shut up.” you laughed. “I bet your last name is no better.”

“Russell.” he told you smoothly with a playful glance. 

You scoffed teasingly, “Of course…George Russell…what a champion kinda name.”

“Who knows…maybe I’ll be MVP before you know it and you’ll be seeing my face everywhere…getting totally sick of me.” 

“Mhm.” you tried to steady the racing of your heart at the realization that you were already trying not to see his face everywhere, desperate to change the subject, “So is my kid on the list or not?”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s here.” George crossed his name off, “I also see you’re down for snack duty.”

“Sure am. Brought my cooler and everything.” you gestured aimlessly towards the bleachers.

George looked back up at you but his eyes drifted past you with a tight smile. Before you could look over your shoulder to see what he was looking at, Andrew appeared beside you and set his hand on your back. 

“All signed up?” he asked. 

“Yeah. We’re all set.” you answered calmly. 

“Hey, mate, good to see you.” George held his hand out to your husband and they shook hands politely. 

“You too.” Andrew smiled, “It’s been a while.” 

“Sure has.” 

“Well we should let you get set up.” you said, taking a step away from George and closer to Andrew. 

“No worries.” George adjusted his cap on his head with a smile, “See ya after.”

Then he was walking off into the baseball diamond to corral the little boys to begin their practice. You and Andrew headed back to the bleachers and to the spot he had saved for you with the cooler and you sat on the metal bench between the other interested parents. It was surprising that so many parents wanted to stay and watch even if it was just a practice but it reinstated your good feelings about your new neighbourhood and how involved everyone was with the community. 

While George directed the boys through throwing drills and showing them how to swing the bats, you found yourself staring more at him than you son. There wasn’t really much to watch when the other kids were taking their turns anyway and there was something about George in those light wash blue jeans that just drew your eyes in shamelessly. They just fit so nicely over the curve of his ass and you habitually licked your lips with a focused cock of your head. 

Andrew’s arm draping around your shoulders made you jump and you pressed a hand to your heart despite his grinning face and you huffed, “You scared me.”

“That into the practice, huh?” he chuckled.

“Yeah.” you mumbled and looked back to the field for a moment, pulling Richard out of the crowd of boys with ease before you glanced back at your husband, “I’m glad you could come.”

“Of course.” Andrew smiled over at you in the evening sunshine, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, I dunno. With work and the longer commute and all…you’ve seemed more tired…busy.”

Andrew sighed and pulled you closer by your shoulders and you rested your head against his as he spoke to you quietly, “Yeah, it has been a lot to get used to. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much and if you feel like I’m letting you down.” 

“Oh, you’re not letting me down.” you assured him, lifting your head up again so you could give him your full attention, “I’m proud of you for sticking with it even when it gets hard. You work so hard for Ritchie and for me and I really do appreciate it.”

Andrew reached his free hand up to tap your nose lightly and you shared in his calm smile before he was guiding you towards him by the chin for a kiss or two. 

“I love you.” he whispered against your cheek.

Your eyes drifted back out to the field, “I love you too.”

At the halfway mark, George called you over with the snacks and Andrew let you slip out of his arms to do your little job. You helped to hand out the juice boxes and watermelon slices to each little boy and most said thank you - and your son even gave you a kiss with his thanks. George stood beside you to watch as his little players ate their snack and relaxed on the grass for a few minutes and once your stock was empty, you closed up your cooler. 

“Thanks again for bringing the snack.” George said as you stood up. 

“Any time.” you smiled, “Is it a rotation thing or is it one parent for the season?”

“It depends. Why, are you willing to be the designated snack-bringer?”

“For you, sure.” 

It was out of your mouth before you could think about how it would sound and George’s expression rose into a hint of amusement. 

You cleared your throat, “And the boys, of course.”

“Of course.” George nodded. 

You stared at each other for a few seconds. 

Then, his hand was on your arm, “I should get back to practice. I will expect you here with snacks next week then.”

He was gone before you could process the warmth that his touch left and you just smiled and nodded after him as he herded the snacking boys back to the diamond, the sunshine yellow '63' printed boldly on the back of his jersey. You carried your empty cooler to the bleachers again and sat yourself stiffly beside your husband who was oblivious to anything going on and, instead, was waving to your son from across the field. 

For the next week or two, you ran into George more than you’d have ideally wanted. Between school drop off and pick up, little league baseball practice, and the casual neighbourly run-ins, it was starting to feel nearly impossible to avoid him. And, at the same time, the more you saw him, the more you didn’t want to avoid him. There was something so charismatic about him that made him so easy to talk to and to confide in and you hated to confess that you took him up on his offer for tea once or twice during the week. While you sipped in his living room, there was never a silent moment as there was always something to talk about and even little Nancy was starting to warm up to you just a little. 

Despite your fluctuating feelings towards your neighbour, your guilt was something that stayed stagnant. You loved Andrew with your whole heart and you never once doubted that, but the strange warmth that spread across your skin at a mere glance at George was unlike anything you had felt before. You swore it would be something you would take to the grave. No one - especially not George or Andrew - needed to know the internal battle you were facing. 

Since your first conversation with George at his house two weeks earlier, you only started to see more and more of the truth behind your honest chat. Andrew was working himself exhausted between the commute into the city and the lengthy hours which left almost no time for you to relax as husband and wife the way you would have appreciated. You tried to talk to him here and there about it but you also didn’t want to make him feel badly - you knew he was trying his absolute best and for that you were grateful. But still, at the end of the day, you were still a woman with needs and it was growing increasingly more frustrating to sit around and wait for him to give you the satisfaction that you needed. 

The one good thing about Richard being off at school was that you had more private time which, with children, often was incredibly few and far between. With your record player on, you were listening to Madonna’s album as you vacuumed the main floor of your house, letting your mind wander on its own. Maybe it was the emptiness of your house or maybe it was a certain time in your hormonal cycle but as the seconds ticked by, your desire to tend to the house diminished greatly. Finally, the vacuum was turned off mid chore and you rested it down on the carpet before flopping back onto the couch with a huff to the ceiling. Your music played on from the other room, the familiar scratch of the vinyl record bringing comfort and you closed your eyes for a moment to let yourself be taken by the celestial voice of Madonna. 

As if with a mind of their own, your fingers inched their way over your thigh and up to the waistband of your straight leg blue jeans and you popped the button, taking an habitual glance towards the front door as if someone were going to walk right in unannounced. But you were in the complete privacy of your own home, away from the paper thin walls of Manhattan apartment buildings, and you could do as you so pleased. Your jeans were dropped to the carpeted floor. 

Propping your feet up on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, you got yourself situated comfortably within the warm embrace of the sofa cushions and your eyes were drawn to your framed wedding photo that sat on the fireplace mantle directly in front of you. Licking your lips and then your fingertips, you didn’t tear your eyes away from it as you slipped your hand down the front of your underwear and refamiliarized yourself with your body. 

It had been so long that the first graze of your fingers had your lips parting in a soft gasp, working yourself slowly without any sort of prior build up, gentle circles over your aching clit. You hadn’t realized how many weeks had gone by without any sort of touch like this until you got yourself in that position. Under slightly furrowed brows, you stared straight ahead at your wedding photo, eyes boring into those of your husband without so much as a blink; almost as if you were reconditioning yourself to direct your full entire attention at him and him alone.

No more nonsense thoughts of the neighbour. 

Even though you spoke that line to yourself in warning, the concept just tasted so good to your mind with your hand down your panties and your legs spread in the middle of your sun-bathed family room. Flashes of him at the last little league game filled your head; the way his arms looked in that snug navy blue t-shirt standing out against his lightly tanned skin…his blue eyes sparkling every time he looked at you. You couldn’t help but let your eyes flutter closed and your head fell back against the couch with a soft whimper, shutting out the framed photo with the curse of your own mind. 

Little did you know, said neighbour was on his way over to your house at that very moment with a sealed Tupperware container in hand and a whistle on his lips. The faint muffled sound of Madonna leaking through your walls brought a fond smile to George’s face as he crossed over onto your property and made strides over your perfectly trimmed grass. His attention was caught by the sight of you through the single paned front window and he went to send you a smile and a wave until he stopped in his tracks at the realization of what he had stumbled upon. 

There you were, lounged back on your couch, socked feet propped up on the coffee table with your legs spread and your hand nestled between them. The look on your face was nearly erotic as you faced the ceiling with an angelic furrowed expression and made yourself writhe under your own touch, any sounds muted by the music that filled your empty home. 

George stepped away from the front window so as to not be caught and he turned to head back home to give you your privacy but before he crossed over the property line again, something stopped him. Almost like he was held by an invisible force, he stood dumbly at the edge of your lawn, staring at his house, the Tupperware container of homemade banana bread held in his hands. Everything in him knew it was wrong but he couldn’t help but glance back to the side of your white paneled home to the side window that gave him a direct glance inside and to the couch on which you sat. 

If anyone drove by, they would have thought this man looked absolutely ridiculous just standing there, but he was captivated by you, watching you touch yourself to whatever thoughts were taking up your mind. Little did he know, but they were thoughts of him. 

His name fell from your lips when you came, almost startling yourself in the process. As your body shuttered through the small waves of your orgasm, your eyes snapped open to land on your wedding photo again as if your husband had seen the whole thing. A furious blush came to your cheeks and you panted heavily as you tried to catch your bearings and process the realization of what you had just done. Sitting up a little more on the couch, you found yourself unable to look at the framed photograph again, instead, staring wide eyed into the darkened fireplace beneath. 

A flutter through the window beside the fireplace caught your eye but when you looked, there was nothing there. You hurried to tug your jeans back on and buttoned them up before making a beeline to the kitchen to wash your hands and splash some cool water on your face. What was wrong with you? Your husband was going to walk through the door in four hours and you were going to have to kiss him hello with the mouth that just moaned another man’s name. You were going to have to face said man at the bus stop in an hour and that was the last thing you wanted to do.

Before you knew it,

“Hey.”

“Hello.”

Silence. 

“Did you have a good day?”

“Huh? Oh, me? Yeah…fine. It was fine. Nothing…important.” you looked to the sidewalk beneath your feet. 

George nodded, “Nice.”

Silence. 

“How was yours?” you asked. 

“Fine. It was good.”

“Good.”

“Good.” 

Silence. 

You urged the bus to round the corner with the pleading glance of your eyes, desperate to escape the horribly awkward situation that was completely one sided. George cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to another at your side. Neither of you knew what the other knew and somehow it made it that much worse. You swore that even a few of the other parents at the bus stop were catching onto your horrible tension and you tugged at the collar of your shirt habitually to try and get some air. 

In reality, it was all in your head but, to be fair, George was all in your head too and that was the root of your issue. As you stood there, your mind taunted you with the thoughts that had clouded your mind that afternoon - curious imagination of how his lips would feel or how his hands could grab you or how his body would feel against yours, traced by your fingertips. You discreetly stepped away from him. 

In perfect time, the bright yellow school bus rounded the corner and you took that opportunity to step even further away from George, feigning it as simply excitement to see your son. Like every afternoon, Richard ran off the bus and right into your arms and you hugged him tightly with your warm maternal greeting. You barely gave George a goodbye before you were encouraging your son to race you home - a perfect excuse to get as far away from George as possible…and as quickly as possible. Of course, despite the way you ran down your street in the afternoon breeze, you still let Richard get to the front door first and you let him inside with a ruffle to his hair and one last glance from where you came, almost as if you were hoping to see your neighbour trailing after you. 

Later that evening, once Andrew was home and dinner was had and Ritchie was tucked into bed, you were desperate to repair the damage to your mind that you had caused by your own actions. Your husband was sitting in the same spot on the couch as you had been earlier that day, already in his pyjamas, a magazine in his hand as he read quietly by the light of the table lamp. He was oblivious but you felt as though just him sitting there would cause him to realize what you had done so the only way to prevent that was to bring your full and entire attention back to him - where it rightfully belonged. 

You plucked the magazine from his hands and tossed it onto the coffee table, urging his eyes to raise to your face as you tossed a leg over his lap and sat yourself down on his thighs. His hands fell to your hips just as you swooped in to kiss him purposefully, lingering on his lips for a few seconds before offering him a bit of tongue. He humoured you for a few seconds before he was tilting his head back with a soft chuckle to break your kiss. 

“What are you doing?” he asked playfully. 

You slung your arms around his shoulders and leaned forward against his chest until your noses were almost touching, asking him almost pleadingly, “Have sex with me.”

Andrew’s hands gave your hips a squeeze, “You know I love you,”

“Mhm.”

“But I’m far too tired for that right now, sugar, I’m sorry.”

“Andy.” you dropped your head back in frustration, staring at the same part of the ceiling that you had earlier that day.

“I’ll be nothing but completely disappointing to you.” he argued lightly. “You deserve my best.”

You frowned and slid off his lap onto the couch beside him with a sigh. 

“I’m sorry.” he repeated, leaving his hand on your waist to keep you close and he kissed up your neck, “It was just a really exhausting day today. Maybe this weekend, okay?”

“Since when do we have to plan it?” you tisked. 

“Since we got old.” he teased. 

A small smile perked at the corner of your lips and you swatted him gently with the back of your hand, “Speak for yourself.” 

Andrew kissed over your cheek and to your lips and you shared a few brief kisses before he replied softly, “We are the same age, in case you forgot, and thus we are going to get old together.”

Never before did that statement bring a tinge to your heart but in that moment it did and you could only pull a tight smile and nod in reply and he gave you one more kiss before shifting off the couch and taking you by the hand to lead you to bed. 

By Friday, you seemed to have fallen back into your usual routine of pretending that George didn’t exist. The few times you saw each other in passing or at the baseball games were few and far between and conversations didn’t stray farther than a polite hello or shallow discussions about your sons or the weather. Your initial guilt due to your solo situation on your couch from earlier in the week seemed to die down and you were very thankful for that. George was a great guy and you appreciated him as your neighbour and wanted to keep it that way. 

That might also have been a reason why he was the first person you thought to call when your washing machine flooded all over your basement floor just after lunch. If nothing else, he was kind and reliable. He came over right away with his tool box in hand and you opened the front door for him and led the way into the basement where the flood was occurring. The unfinished concrete floor was covered with a thin layer of cold water that only seemed to be leaking more from somewhere behind the washing machine. 

“I haven’t even used it since we moved in!” you said as you stepped cautiously through the water to your laundry basket that was sitting protected on top of the machine. “First time and of course it goes to shit.”

“It’s okay.” George set his tool box on top of the adjacent dryer and then leaned over the two machines to see down between them and the wall, flashlight in hand. “Good you called. Wouldn’t want you flooding away.”

“My new house at that.” you added. 

“Exactly.” George wrapped his hands around the sides of the washer and warned you politely, “Step back a bit.”

When you did, he heaved the machine away from the wall with a tight grunt and your eyes widened at the bulge of his biceps under his t-shirt. It certainly wasn’t a light thing to move so you coloured yourself impressed and you stayed out of his way as he managed to give himself enough space to get between the washer and the wall with a wrench from his tool box. You clutched your hands together and held them anxiously in front of your mouth as you watched him crouched down working, focusing your attention on hoping there was no damage done to your house rather than how his jeans fit him so nicely over his thighs.

“Nothing major.” he called out with his head still hidden by the washing machine, “Just a loose pipe. Guess they weren’t installed correctly.” 

“Damn.” you tisked.

“Yeah,” George chuckled, his voice tight as he worked the wrench around the pipe to fix it for you, “That’s what you can expect from these installers on new builds. They’re getting sloppy.” 

“You seem to know what you’re doing.”

George straightened up carefully from behind the washing machine, “Same thing happened to us when we moved in, if you can believe. I actually liked to pay attention to what the plumber was telling me…and guess it helped to save you $30.”

Your eyes widened, “$30? My Lord.” 

“Yeah,” George chuckled and set his wrench back in his tool box, “Should be all set now. If you have some towels we can use to mop up the floor that could be good. I can restart this load for you.”

“Sure. Thanks.” you headed back upstairs and traipsed your damp footsteps up to the second floor to retrieve all your towels you owned from the linen cupboard in the main bathroom. 

Bringing them all back to the basement, George had restarted your load of laundry that you had attempted to put on - including detergent and fabric softener and even set it to the correct wash cycle for your blouses. He then showed you the most efficient way to mop up the water with the towels without allowing it to leak into the foundation of the house and you couldn’t help but be impressed by his knowledge base. 

“I can’t thank you enough.” you said with a relieved sigh as you both stood on the bottom step of the basement stairs and admired the organized mess of towels soaking up the water.

“No problem at all.” George assured you modestly, “Was the most interesting thing to happen today.”

“Yeah, I bet.” you chuckled, “Nothing like a damsel in distress call to really shake up the lunch hour.”

“Hardly a damsel in distress.” George brushed his hand over your back casually, “You’re perfectly capable in many ways.”

You met his eye in the dim basement lighting before turning to look back up the flight of stairs as you cleared your throat, “Did you want tea or anything?”

“Sure. If you’re offering.” 

As you led the way back upstairs and into your kitchen, you realized that was the first time he was in your house. Of course, it was when your basement was flooding and you had breakfast dishes still in the sink and Richard’s toy cars scattered all over the family room and part of you felt embarrassed as if you had to impress him for some reason. 

“Sorry that the place is such a mess.” you rushed out as you hurried across the kitchen to try and make the mound of dishes in the sink look less disgusting. 

“No need to apologise.” George tisked, “Realities of parenthood. I get it. I don’t judge.” 

“Yeah.” you sent a calm smile over at him in silent thanks before focusing on filling up the kettle in the sink, ready to make you both tea just like he did for you that first day you truly talked. 

George set his tool box on the round kitchen table and stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans as he walked slowly around the kitchen and took in your shiny new house that was already starting to look like a home. The counter by the hallway archway was covered in pens and stamps and opened mail on which your address was written on each and addressed to ‘Mr and Mrs Andrew J Ridgeley’. George looked away, walking across the linoleum floor towards you and he leaned against the counter beside the stove as you turned on the burner and set the kettle down on top. 

“Where’s Nancy today?” you asked casually. 

“Oh, sometimes she goes to work with Jenn on Fridays and spends the day at the daycare in the office building. She has a few little friends there and whatnot so she likes it.” George explained. 

“That’s nice.” you replied, “So on Fridays you really feel like an empty-nester like me, huh?”

George laughed faintly, “Yeah, I suppose I do.”

“Good thing I saved you then today.”

“Very good thing.” George agreed smoothly. 

There was a calm pause between you as the kettle boiled on the stovetop and you looked away from his light-eyed gaze with a casual lick to your lips. You tapped your fingers against the countertop. 

“Y’know,” George said, “I was worried you were avoiding me recently or something.”

You looked back at him, “What?”

“I just felt like you’ve been going out of your way not to talk to me or something so getting your call today kinda reassured me that we’re still on good terms.”

You let out a half laugh and rested your hand against your forehead for a brief moment in near embarrassment, “Actually…I kinda was, honestly.”

George’s eyes widened, “Oh? Did I do something?”

“No, no.” you assured him quickly, “We have just been spending a lot of time together and I didn’t want Andy to get the wrong idea.”

“Did he say something?”

“Well…no…but-”

“Then what wrong idea is there to get?”

You let out a soft nervous laugh without looking away from the steaming kettle but you didn’t offer him any sort of response. George cocked his head to the side slightly in acknowledgment that he was listening for your reasoning. You had his undivided attention. Why did it make you nervous?

“You’re just…” you sighed despite the anxious smile that you couldn’t lick away, staring unwaveringly at the stove, “Really sweet and really personable and I don’t want to get too comfortable and too close to where Andy might feel uncomfortable or suspicious. Or Jennifer, for that matter. There are boundaries, you know? I don’t want to overstep.”

“And if there weren’t boundaries? What would be different?”

The kettle whistled and you stalled in answering his question by taking it from the stove and turning off the burner so you could pour the water into the mugs to steep. Finally, you set the empty kettle back down and forced yourself to look at him, “I don’t think it’s appropriate to be talking about this.” 

“You started it.”

“I didn’t say anything.” you countered quickly, covering your bases. 

“It’s not what you’re saying…it’s how you’re saying it.” George said smoothly. You were suddenly very attuned to how warm and rich his voice was and your eyes flicked across his face like they always did when he was around, wanting to look at every inch of him. He continued purposefully, “How you can’t stop staring at me, especially.”

You scoffed and turned away from him with a blush rising to your cheeks, “I’m not staring at you.”

“You were. You often do.” George teased. “I’m not a complete idiot, I know when someone is checking me out.”

“I don’t-” you laughed nervously down to your steaming mugs of tea, your hands falling gently onto the edge of the counter, “I don’t check you out.” 

“Yes, you do.” George laughed just the same. “It’s okay. I don’t mind it. It’s flattering.”

You opened your mouth to reply with some defence but no words came to mind and you shut your mouth with a frustrated little huff and you pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes for a moment. With your cheeks so warm they could keep your tea hot, you almost wanted to leave if it wasn’t for the fact that it was your own kitchen you were both standing in. 

When your hands dropped loudly to your sides, George leaned his hip against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest as he asked in retaliation, “Do you mind when I check you out?”

Offering a disbelieving laugh, you glanced over at him, “You don’t check me out.”

“Why do you say that?” he questioned. 

“Why?” you were taken aback, “Because I dunno. Because why would you?”

“Because you’re beautiful.” George answered. “And I most definitely stare at you…although I must be better at hiding it than you are.”

You kept your eyes on his, eyebrows furrowing for a brief moment, and you let a faint smile prick at your lips as you gave him a faint shake of your head. 

“Can I confess something?” he asked. 

“Sure.”

“The other day I came over here to bring you some banana bread I had baked but…I saw that you were already occupied on the couch.” he gestured haphazardly behind him towards your family room. “And I might have stared at you a little then.”

Your eyes widened and you raised your hands to your cheeks in realization, “Oh my God.”

“I’m really sorry, I should have just left when I first noticed but…” George sighed, “You looked fucking gorgeous when you were touching yourself like that.”

“That’s so embarrassing.” you mumbled despite your smile and the eye contact you kept with him. 

“No, it’s not.” George shrugged, “We’re human…we can do whatever we need to in the privacy of our own homes.”

“With peeping neighbours in our windows.” you teased. 

“Hey, now.” he laughed, reaching out to gently nudge your arm, “Not like I was standing out there with binoculars in one hand and my dick in the other.”

Your smile faltered for a second as if he had completely read your thoughts from that day and how you shamefully fantasized about him as you made yourself cum on your family couch. George’s hand grazed down your arm and his finger linked in the sleeve of your blouse for a brief moment as if he were debating something in his own mind. 

Then, his eyes focused on yours once more and he asked as casually as the weather, “What were you thinking about?”

It was a question that would ultimately change the course of your life depending on how you answered but at the moment, you didn’t think that deeply about it. He was right there and he already confessed that he liked it when he stumbled across you like that, the least he deserved was an honest answer. Not to mention the gorgeous blue of his eyes was so mesmerizing that maybe you were a bit dizzy by him as you breathed out a soft, “You.”

Pin drop silence. 

Unbreakable eye contact. 

And then he was grabbing you by the back of your neck and yanking you towards him for a kiss that burned every inch of your skin. 

Your hands grasped the front of his t-shirt to hold him as close as possible, letting your lips mould sloppily together in some sort of semblance of a kiss that easily progressed into more. Standing at the counter in your kitchen, you grabbed onto each other like you were life preservers and he kissed you with so much passion that you had nearly forgotten what it had been like to be craved so carnally like that. He nearly took the breath from your lungs, bending over you until your back was arched and your body took the shape of his. Your hands tangled in the back of his hair as your lips smacked together wetly, tongues pushing together for a greedy taste of infidelity; although your spouses were the last things on your minds. 

The steeping tea was forgotten about as he guided you backwards blindly across the kitchen and you gently hit the edge of the opposite counter, giving him the chance to grab the backs of your thighs and hoist you up onto it. Right away, your arms and legs were slinging around his body and yanking him closer all without breaking your kiss, sharing hungry moans into each other's mouths. Your fingers tightened in his soft hair but your aggression just pulled a handsome groan from his throat that tasted like heaven against your tongue. 

With your ankles linked behind his back, you used the heels of your feet to pull him closer to the counter as you rested near the edge so the front of his blue jeans were pressed up snugly against yours, getting your fix of that fiery touch after so long, regardless of who it was. Your eyes were shut tightly with greed, taking what you wanted from his lips with your body arching against his. George’s hands on your hips pressed indentations of his fingerprints into your flesh and he held you against him as he grinded against you faintly. 

The sweet moan that fell from your lips had him moving like that again, rutting the front of his jeans right up between your spread legs, creating that friction that satisfied the craving of pleasure that you ached for. You moved with him faintly, grinding against his body in return from your spot on the edge of the kitchen counter until you both were turning more and more desperate from it. 

George broke away from your kiss first and his hands shoved up the bottom of your blouse and lifted it over your head so it could be tossed aimlessly to the floor. You panted heavily to the kitchen as he moved his kisses down your neck and over your breasts that were tucked in your unflattering bra but he didn’t mind one bit. He groaned against your chest as he sank to his knees in front of the counter, “You’re fucking sexy.” 

“Holy shit.” you exhaled, lifting your bum off the countertop when he popped the button on your jeans so he could yank them off you. 

“That’s it.” George licked his lips as he guided your feet back until your heels were tucked on the edge so you were spread open for him, only separated by your underwear. He leaned in close and dusted his nose right up between your legs before his tongue was following, teasing your pussy over your underwear with the faintest of touches that still managed to make you squirm. He stared up at you from his knees, sending you a teasing wink as his fingers linked in the hem of your panties and he started to pull them down too, “I’ve wanted to do this for too fucking long.”

Once they were dropped to the floor too and your feet were back in place where he wanted them, you could barely rush out a reply, “Me too.”

In reality, you hadn’t truly realized you wanted that until you were put in that position but the images that your mind pictured earlier that week certainly might have proved otherwise. 

He touched you like you were a masterpiece, gliding two fingers down between your glistening folds with his lips parted in near awe, watching how your wetness clung to his fingertips greedily. You raked a hand through his hair to guide his face in too and he gladly obeyed, nustling his tongue alongside his fingers with a gorgeous exhale that sent shivers up your spine. The caresses of his tongue were devine and he teased around your clit and down across your pussy in gentle strokes that had your head lolling to the side. 

Being in that position wasn’t new to you - you had a husband after all - but you weren’t aware of how limited your experience might have been until George had you there. His first few touches and licks were expected and you offered him soft hums in appreciation, your teeth sunken into your bottom lip faintly as you watched him between your thighs. But then his large hands were sliding around your thighs and his fingers pressed into your flesh, his wedding ring on his left hand shimmering in the early afternoon sunlight, and he was nuzzling his face deeper with quick laps of his tongue. Your mouth fell open at his insistence and your hand in his hair gripped tighter in surprise. 

“Oh-” you stumbled out faintly. 

George tugged you closer to the edge of the counter as he slurped at your cunt until he was sucking on your clit and your head tossed back with a sharp gasp and your back straightened up. 

“Fuck!” you squeaked.

He hummed against you, blue eyes staring straight up your body to gauge your every reaction as he tongued at your clit in quick strokes. The feeling was intense and you didn’t know what to do with yourself as you gaped dumbly into your kitchen and almost choked over your breath, eyes struggling to stay open, and your hand that wasn’t tangled in his hair ended up slamming flatly against the side of your refrigerator. The upper cabinets caught your head as you let out a loud moan to the ceiling, toes curling over the edge of the countertop, and George only grabbed tighter to your thighs to hold you on his mouth. 

Your hand tightened in his hair although you couldn’t decide if you were pulling him closer or wanting to push him away with how strong the pleasure was that he built within you. You mouthed a silent chant of “fuck, fuck, fuck-” to your kitchen ceiling, gaping dumbly to the light fixture. George took his right hand back just long enough to slip two fingers in his mouth before he was guiding them slowly inside your leaking pussy. 

“Oh God-” you whined tightly. 

“Good girl.” he praised warmly against your cunt as his fingers started to thrust into you shallowly but strongly. “This what you were thinking about?”

“Mhm-” you could only nod cluelessly, barely able to make out what he was saying thanks to the ringing of your ears that was brought on by the pleasure he introduced to your body. 

His tongue flicked faster at your clit and his fingers nudged up against that warm spongy spot just inside you at a perfect consistent pace. The moans that tumbled from your lips were nearly involuntary, coaxed out of you by his generous touch, until you were sure the neighbours could hear - if it weren’t for the fact that your neighbour was the one between your legs at that very moment. All your stresses and anxieties from the prior few short weeks seemed to fall away and the rush of pleasure that tore through your body completely made up for it. 

You felt dizzy and you rested your head back heavily against the upper cabinets behind you with your eyes screwed shut, barely able to choke out a, “Yes-”

George gripped you tighter and kept his pace going, keeping his eyes on your face even if you weren’t looking at him. He analyzed your every flutter of expression to see just how you wanted it, smothering a half smirk at the displeased huff that you let out when he gave his tongue a break to suck on your clit instead. The change up took a second to get used to but you had never been so catered to before so you weren’t one to complain, tightening your fingers in his soft hair while he worked wonders on you. 

Then that build up was forming again, flushing warmth across your skin, and you gaped down to him, “Yeah, yeah, yeah-”

George didn’t move a muscle from exactly where you needed him even as your legs started to quiver from where you were held open. You choked over your next breath as the first wave of pleasure tore down your spine and George gripped onto your thighs to hold you steady on the edge of the kitchen counter as you came on his mouth. His name fell from your lips like it was second nature and it truly felt so much better when he was there to hear it himself. 

He pulled away once you started to get sensitive and he pulled his fingers out of you as he stood up and he rubbed along your messy cunt in lazy strokes. Your hand in his hair slid around the back of his neck and pulled him in for another open mouthed kiss, instantly sharing the taste of you that lingered on his tongue and you sucked on it greedily. George blindly unbuttoned his jeans while he kissed you, barely able to drop them and his underwear to the floor before you were tucking your legs around his waist again and tugging him closer. 

“No one’s ever gone down on me like that before.” you confessed breathily between feverish kisses.

“No?” George chuckled cockily into your mouth, kicking his jeans off his ankles and across your kitchen floor, “Well good thing you have me.”

You offered a sweet “mhm” in reply that was quickly swallowed up by his lips once more. 

He grabbed your thighs again and tugged you closer to the edge of the counter, “This okay?”

“Yeah.” you slung both your arms around his shoulders, leaving one hand in his hair and the other grasping onto the back of his shirt. 

“You want this?” he asked breathily. 

“You have no idea.” 

The two of you shared faint laughter that was swallowed up by a few more sloppy lustful kisses before George was breaking away from you long enough to look down between you so he could angle the head of his cock against your slick cunt. You shuttered slightly in anticipation, clinging onto the back of his shirt as you breathed him in greedily with your nose pressed against his cheek. 

George pushed inside you slowly and once that aching stretch came to spread across your hips, your eyes met closely as your mouth fell open with a soft gasp. His eyes darted across your face before his lips were capturing yours in a sensual kiss and he slid deeper inside you with his hands grabbing at your doughy hips, sinking himself into your body. The wavering breath he let out into your mouth was laced so perfectly with the faintest moan and you felt it right through your body, making your muscles flutter around him. 

“Holy shit.” George slid a hand around the back of neck, his fingers nestled in the roots of your hair, and he pulled your lips harder onto his with an underlying sense of urgency that burned hot over your skin. And, as he did, he started to thrust into you hungrily, sharing in your whimpering moan that blessed your kiss. 

“Fuck.” you choked out, your grip tightening on the fabric of his shirt as if to pull him impossibly closer. 

Your kisses were messy from the quick aggression with which he fucked you on your kitchen counter but you kept at it like you never wanted to stop, unable to get enough of each other and the addictive drug of sin that joined you together. When even what he gave you didn’t feel sufficient enough, you pressed your heels into the flesh of his ass to try and get him to give you more, whining desperately against his tongue-led kisses. He stopped completely, nestled as deep inside you as he could fit, and your head dropped back against the upper cabinets behind you with a warm moan at the glorious fullness he offered you. George grabbed your ass and pulled your body right up against his so he could lift you up off the counter and into his arms. 

You gasped in surprise but clung onto him tightly, trusting him entirely to do whatever he pleased, and your hands splayed across his back over the thin material of his shirt to feel the way his toned back flexed as he held your body weight. He carried you through the adjacent doorway into the dining room and through the spacious archway into the front living room, the afternoon sun streaking in through the large picture window at the front of the house. The carpet was soft beneath his feet and hid his footsteps as he blindly navigated his way to the couch, still taken up by your lips that kissed him like he was more important than air. George sat himself down heavily on the couch with you perched perfectly on his lap, his dick still tucked warmly inside you. 

“Mm, my God.” you withered, driven by humanistic lust, and you were right away starting to bounce on his lap. 

“Holy fuck, you’re sexy.” George groaned, slumping back comfortably on your couch that had been a wedding gift to you and your husband. He stared up at you with dilated blue eyes and he licked his lips at the sight, his large hands on your hips following your eager motions. But despite the obvious intent you held, he still reminded you politely, “You tell me if it’s too much.”

“It’s not.” you insisted strongly, grounding your hands flat against his chest so he was held down on the couch and you had the leverage to ride him harder. You had wanted that for what felt like weeks now and even though you had initially wanted it from your husband, you couldn’t be completely blamed for finding it elsewhere. 

“Oh my God, look at you.” he breathed in near awe, “You want it so bad.” 

You couldn’t bite back the sly smile that pricked at the corner of your mouth even if you scrunched your eyes shut and tilted your head back in some effort to keep him from seeing the effect he had on you. Your skin clapped lewly against his thighs with every bounce, tainting your marital home each and every time. The feeling of his hand around your throat startled you slightly. 

“This okay?” he asked. 

“Fuck, yeah.” you stumbled out. 

That wasn’t new either and you had your fair share of more kinky interactions with your husband before he was your husband and before parental responsibilities and careers started to diminish the passion. It had been far too long. 

“Harder.” you ordered. 

George’s hand squeezed your throat a little tighter, “Better?”

“Mhm.” you withered, still messily bouncing on his lap. 

“What do you say?” 

His demand took you by surprise but it was invigorating and you looked down at him and his handsome lust filled expression, offering him an angelic, “Thank you.” 

“Thank you, sir.” he corrected you smoothly. 

You nearly choked over your breath and the obvious reaction to that simple demand had Georges smirking proudly under you as you tried to keep riding him on your couch. 

His hand tightened around your neck a little more, ordering you strongly, although his voice could never get rid of the undertones of gentleness, “Say it.” 

“Thank you, sir.” you exhaled. 

“Good girl. You’re doing such a good fucking job.” 

“You feel so fucking good inside me.” you whimpered. “I don’t wanna stop.” 

“Don’t. Keep going until you make yourself cum.”

A soft chuckle left your lips as you confessed, “I can’t cum like this.”

“No?” George tugged at your neck to urge you down on top of him so you were chest to chest and he could kiss you. 

You took that opportunity to rut yourself against him greedily, rocking your hips back and forth on his lap with your clit rubbing faintly against his pelvis just enough to get a little huff out of you against his lips. George let go of your throat to take two handfuls of your ass instead and he guided you into stronger motions against his body, keeping you on his cock even as you used his body to stimulate your aching clit. Your fingers fisted the front of his shirt tightly, moaning into his mouth while his tongue pushed insistently against yours until you were falling breathless. 

When he slid his hands up your back, you tried to keep yourself going the way he had started for you but it wasn’t the same. Before you could beg for him to help you again, he was swallowing you up in his arms and smoothly sliding one of his legs under him so he could flip you over and drop you both lengthwise across the living room couch with him rightfully on top of you. 

“Fuck.” you squeaked, throwing your arms around his shoulders just as he started thrusting into you roughly, forcing your head back against the arm of the couch with a choked, “Sh-Shit!” 

“Better?” George taunted against your cheek.

“Yes, sir.” you whimpered. 

His chuckle was low and warm and your toes curled at the sound, legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close. But he would never dream of stopping, not when he had you where he had dreamt of having you for as long as you had imagined the same about him. 

What had started as a somewhat cautious rendezvous had quickly moulded into a carnally lustful hookup, entirely trusting of each other, and he wasn’t holding back as he fucked you on your couch harder than you had been in a while. You couldn’t even manage to form words as you stared up at him above you with your mouth agape and your eyebrows furrowed with intense pleasure, stupid little moans tumbling freely from your throat as language abandoned you. His icy stare was steamy hot and you refused to look away for even a second, raking your nails across the back of his t-shirt until the fabric was definitely being creased and wrinkled. 

“Want me to make you cum, sweetheart?” 

His voice was ethereal and you could have finished from that sentence alone, the pet name causing your swollen cunt to tighten around him for a moment. 

“Use your words.” George teased. 

“Please,” you forced out, “sir.” 

“Can you cum like this?” he asked softly. 

You nodded quickly, already feeling the seeds of an impending orgasm blossoming inside you, “Yeah.” 

“Yeah?” George chuckled, nudging his knees across the floral couch cushion to be a bit closer to you, keeping his thrusts so perfectly deep, and when he sat back from you just enough to get his hand around your throat again, he was at the perfect angle to hit your g-spot dead on. When you took in a sharp breath at the quick rising pleasure from his minor adjustment, he smirked down at you, “You needed it that bad, huh? Already gonna cum for me?” 

“Yes, sir.” you repeated dumbly up to him, swimming in a euphoric haze, “Please don’t stop.” 

“No way, baby.” he promised, keeping your unwavering eye contact, “Wanna feel you cum all over my fucking cock.” 

“Please.” you breathed, face scrunching up from the intense sensations. “Please-“

George was on the same wavelength as he was blessed with the glorious feeling of your body, already feeling himself falling into his own rising pleasure. His hand that wasn’t taken to your throat was gripping the arm of the couch beside your head and with every thrust, his hair was falling farther over his forehead on beautiful messy waves. You wanted to kiss him again but you wanted him to make you cum more, so you didn’t dare move him from his positioning, taking the view gladly instead as your attention was all on him and your fingers stayed locked around the fabric of his shirt. 

“Fuck, that’s a good girl, I can feel you tightening up already.” George spoke down to you, his voice so rich and heavenly you swore it made you dizzy. 

“I’m gonna cum.” you whimpered loudly, head lifting from the arm of the couch so you could peer down your body and watch how he fucked you, the sight of his dick disappearing inside you before pulling back out almost all the way covered in your glistening wetness in rapid succession only making your impending orgasm feel stronger and stronger. You were almost sure you were going to rip his shirt right off him as you squeaked out, “Fuck, fuck fuck, right there, right there-“ 

“Uh huh?” George’s jaw clenched as he tried to hold himself back for the sake of you as the priority. You had to finish first. 

The moment that the first wave of pleasure hit you, your entire body shuttered and your head tossed back against the arm of the couch with a silent gape to the ceiling, eyes screwed shut. Then it was all let out with the most beautiful trembling moan George had ever heard and you filled your silent house with the sounds of your euphoria and the praise of his name, painting the walls in sin. You hadn’t cum that hard in a while to the point where you almost blacked out from the strength of it and your body wrapped itself around George to yank him down on top of you for something to hold onto. 

That just made it even more impossible for him to stop as he kept fucking you right through it, groaning loudly against your cheek as he fought against your vice-like grip around his aching cock. He was getting sloppy with it, losing himself in the warm wet heaven of your pussy and the lewd sound it filled the living room with. Your ankles linked behind his back and pulled him in deeper, gasping and whimpering in sensitivity that you pushed aside to bask in the glorious and reliving pleasure he brought you. 

“I…” George choked out, dipping his face into your neck as you held each other tightly, “I’m gonna fucking cum.” 

“Gimme it.” you pleaded. “Please, sir.” 

Forward thinking was not your priority in that moment as all you craved was for him to claim you completely, filthily, beautifully. For all you cared, this could have just been one perfectly intense dream and you wanted to make the absolute most of it. 

With a few more thrusts, George was shoving hard into you once more and as his dick throbbed inside you, he came strongly, spurting thickly as deep as he could reach. Your mouth fell open at the feeling and one hand flew to his hair to tangle in the soft strands and hold his face in your neck as he moaned heavenly against your flushed skin. He ground into you greedily, giving you everything he had and it made your mouth water, your head tilting back to stare up at the living room ceiling with a mouthed ‘oh my God’. 

“Fuck.” George huffed, gently allowing his body weight to rest on top of you completely. 

You welcomed him gladly and enveloped him in your embrace and even kissed his head and his faint breathy chuckle at your action had you smiling. The pleasure hormones swirled around your mind and body and before they could fade away, George was sliding his hand over your cheek and guiding your lips to his for a slow, sensual, breathless kiss. 

The two of you made out like that on the couch for a few minutes, what was once such a rush now dimmed down to lazy yet purely passionate kisses in the silence of your marital home. He was still tucked inside you and feeling his body so close with yours was addicting. Your fingers scratched through the back of his hair and he broke your kiss to rest his head against your collarbones. 

“I needed that so fucking bad, oh my God.” George sighed. 

“Me too.” you confessed lightly. 

“It’s been way too long.”

“Tell me about it.”

There was a moment of silence as the reality of your situation settled on your minds. 

“We really did that.” you exhaled. 

“Yeah.” George sighed. 

“Do you regret it?” 

George lifted his head from your shoulder to look at you properly, “Do you?”

“I asked you first.”

A faint smile pricked at the corner of his mouth and he answered with a soft, “No.”

You trailed your hand out of his hair and down the side of his neck to guide him in for a chasté kiss, “Me neither.” 

George gave you one more kiss before he was carefully sitting back from you, “Our tea is probably cold.”

You giggled softly, “Probably.” 

“Want me to get you your clothes?”

“Please.” 

He carefully pulled out and you let your hand take his place, staying on your back to keep from leaking out onto the couch, and he disappeared back into the kitchen. For the few seconds he was gone, you stared wide-eyed out the front window to the tree-lined street, the heavy side of reality settling onto your consciousness. If you had felt guilty about your thoughts the last weeks, then this was unimaginable. You committed arguably the ultimate sin in marriage - how would you ever come back from this? 

“Here you go.”

George held out your underwear to you first and you glanced up at him - now fully dressed himself - and you took them from him with a soft thanks. He helped you up from the couch and you hurried to shimmy your clothes on while he watched you. 

“This should be a one time thing, right?” you said after a moment. 

“Yeah, probably.” George sighed. 

“And…just between us?” 

“Of course.” he agreed quickly. “We don’t want to…mess everything up.”

“Yeah.” you smiled faintly, thankful that he understood. 

You could see him hesitate for a moment before he was taking your hand and leaning in to kiss you again. Despite the events that had just happened, the move made you a little shy and you pulled away a second later with a bashful smile to the ground. His thumb brushed over your skin lazily and as you stood together in your living room face to face in the afternoon sun, you felt drawn into him to steal another gentle kiss from his plush lips. Without sharing a word or any additional touch, you kissed softly, innocently, for a few long seconds before breaking away from each other again. You licked your lips that tasted like him and he noticed with a fond smile. 

“The school bus should be here soon.” he said. 

“Mhm.” you hummed, only half paying attention as your gaze was transfixed by his swollen lips. 

“We can walk together if you want.” 

“Mhm.” 

There was another momentary silence between you and George’s faint bite to his bottom lip had your eyebrows naturally peaking for a split second. He could read your face like it was the front page of the morning paper. 

“This isn’t going to be a one time thing, is it?”

You shook your head and took the half step closer to him as you leaned in for another tender kiss. 

He was everywhere in your house now. Everywhere you looked it was tainted with George and you were worried that it showed all over your face. The kitchen...the living room…everywhere you looked. That very same night you stood in the kitchen preparing dinner while Richard watched TV in the family room and you tried not to think about the memories that the counter behind you held or pay attention to the constant leak that dampened your panties under your jeans. Andrew would be home in no time and you had only that long to compose yourself enough to face him like nothing was wrong. 

The phone on the kitchen wall rang loudly, startling you dramatically and your head whipped around to it. You set the knife down on the cutting board and wiped your hands on your apron as you made your way over to it. Without thinking twice, you answered it with a casual, “Hello?”

“Hey, my love. It’s me.”

Your grip tightened on the receiver at your husband’s voice and you cleared your throat before answering, “Hi, Andy. What’s going on?”

“I just heard news that the boss wants me to come out for dinner with a potential client tonight so I won’t be home until a bit later. Nothing crazy but we’re hoping to get them onboard with this pitch and apparently bottomless wine is the way to do it.” his soft chuckle acted as a way to cover up his disappointment - you knew that well after your few years together. 

“Oh. Okay.” you looked to the ground, silently grateful you wouldn’t have to face him until later. 

“I’m really sorry, sugar.” Andrew said softly through the phone, “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”

“No, no. That’s okay. Do what you gotta do.” you pulled the most chipper voice you could. 

“I’ll make you proud.”

You slouched your shoulder against the wall, “You always do, Andy.” 

“Tell Ritchie I say hello and I love him. I won’t be back before his bedtime.” 

“Of course. Be safe, okay?”

“I will. I love you.”

You nibbled your bottom lip for a half second before answering through the guilt that burned within you, “I love you too, honey.” 

It was almost 11pm when you heard the front door open. Richard had long been put to bed - although not without asking for Andrew a half dozen times and trying to stall bedtime so he could see him before he slept - and even you had retired to bed yourself. With a book in hand, you were in your nightgown on your side of the bed in the warm light of your bedside lamp, trying to look as nonchalant as possible for when your husband would return home. He didn’t need to know a single thing and especially not how often you had been thinking of how George’s night was going since you had parted that afternoon. 

Each quiet footstep on the stairs had your heart racing but you had all evening to calm yourself so you had belief that you were definitely able to play it cool. So, when the bedroom door opened and Andrew stepped inside in his black work slacks and pale blue button up, you offered him a loving smile. He closed the door behind him again so as to not wake your son and it was then that you noticed the small bouquet of flowers in his hand. Your smile faltered for a moment, feeling an uncomfortable weight settling in your chest. 

Andrew just kept his warm grin and he walked over to your bedside to lean down to greet you with a kiss and the flowers, “Happy anniversary, sugar.” 

You didn’t know what to say for a moment, using all your willpower to keep the smile on your face despite the fact that you completely forgot it had been your wedding anniversary of all days. But you closed your book and set it on your bedside table, “Aw, thank you, my love.”

“I’m really sorry I missed most of the day.” Andrew said, leaning down to kiss your cheek.

“That’s okay.” you brushed it off easily since you did much worse that day, “You’re here now.”

“Finally.” Andrew took the flowers across the room and set them on the dresser still in their cellophane so he could get ready for bed. “And it’s Friday, thank God.”

You watched him loosen his tie and then slide it off from around his neck and he dropped it on the dresser before starting to unbutton his shirt. 

You tried to keep casual conversation, “How was the dinner?”

“It went really well actually.” Andrew said, “Got them on board and they will be signed with us on Monday.” 

“That’s great! Although I didn’t have any doubts; you’re their best guy anyway.” 

“You flatter me,” Andrew glanced over at you with a sweet smile as he walked across the room and draped his shirt over the back of the armchair. He then unbuckled his belt before it, too, was joining the forming pile on the chair and he dropped his slacks, “But now I don’t want to think about work because it’s now the weekend and it’s our anniversary and all my attention is yours. I told you I’d make today up to you.”

“That’s okay.” you assured him softly. “I’m not upset.” 

“I am.” he protested gently and your eyes followed him back across the room and around to his side of the bed. He pushed back the sheets and climbed in beside you in only his underwear, telling you honestly, “I’ve felt so badly saying no to you so much the last little while.”

“It’s really okay, honey.” you promised, lolling your head to the side to look at him. 

“Nope, not accepting that.” he tapped your nose, “I can tell I was doing nothing but disappointing you and I don’t like doing that. Not that we need an excuse but I think our anniversary is the best time to get back at it, you reckon?” 

You didn’t realize how hard you were biting your bottom lip until the pad of his thumb gently swiped over it to get you to let go and then he slid his hand around the side of your face and guided you in for a soft kiss. You tried to push the guilty thoughts to the back of your mind and focus on your kind-hearted husband at your side who, even after an insanely long work day, still wanted to give you what you wanted. There was no doubt in your mind that you were still in love with him, but you kept your new secret locked away in order to prevent hurting the man you loved. 

Andrew was obviously clueless to your internal affairs and his kisses were just as passionate as ever, still managing to erupt butterflies in your stomach with every lingering lock of your lips. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist of the hand that cradled your face and the fact that he didn’t have an ounce of suspicion from the taste of your lips that had kissed another man made you sure that you could have your cake and eat it too. It was almost thrilling. 

Your husband broke your kiss and reached under the sheets to tug at the hem of your nightgown, “Wanna take this off for me?” 

You gladly pulled it over your head and tossed it to the carpeted floor beside the bed and he moved in again to kiss your neck while his hand trailed down your naked body and traced the shape of your breasts and the peak of one of your nipples. He definitely knew where to touch you and that was never a question, proven by the way your eyes fluttered shut when his lips grazed just the right spot under your ear and his tongue against your skin pulled shivers down your spine. 

You took the initiative to shuffle yourself on the mattress so you could lay yourself down properly against your pillow and Andrew was following after you gladly, laying half on top of you with his forearm holding him up at your side. Your hands guided his lips back to yours and you shared deepening kisses in the warmth of your shared bedroom. With your fingers tangled in the back of his short brown hair, you shared the responsibility of guiding your kisses until his tongue was nudging against yours. Opening up for him was easy but there was that tiny worry in the back of your mind wondering if somehow he could tell who else you had been kissing in his absence. 

In reality, Andrew was perfectly clueless, and he trailed his hand down your bare body and under the sheets and right over the front of your panties. You hummed pleasantly into his kiss and spread your legs a little more for him, urging his hand to rub strongly across your clothed pussy. After a few seconds, he was pulling away from your lips with a faint smile at the corner of his mouth and you met his gaze with your teeth sinking into your bottom lip.

“Oh my God,” Andrew chuckled breathily, his hand still helping itself between your legs, “You’re so wet.”

You could only offer him a soft giggle that he kissed away greedily. 

“I’ve kept you waiting that long, hm?” he teased against your mouth. 

You could only manage a faint nod into his kisses.

He didn’t need to know that most of that wetness he was feeling was thanks to your neighbour. 

Andrew pulled away from your lips for a moment so he could focus on shoving down your underwear under the blankets and you blindly helped to kick them off to get lost under the sheets. Once his fingers found your cunt again, you were pulling his lips back on yours by the back of his neck, silently praying he couldn’t feel the remnants of George’s cum still leaking out of you. But he was blissfully unaware as he touched you like that, fingers rubbing at your clit and then sliding between your glistening folds and back up, his lips pulling hungry kisses from your own. 

When he finally pulled away from your lips, you followed his lead to hold up the sheets to let him shuffle himself underneath them, sharing soft laughter at the ungraceful nature of it as he got himself between your legs. You let the bed sheets fall overtop of him and you adjusted your pillow under your head with a nervous lick to your lips as you stared up at the ceiling. You were sure there was no way he could know - it had been all afternoon and evening after all - but a part of you couldn’t help but feel nervous. 

The first touch of his tongue against your pussy had your eyelids fluttering and your breath shuttering in your chest. He nudged your legs open wider and his hands wrapped around your thighs, holding you open for his mouth and the gentle caresses of his tongue. Your eyes bore into the ceiling, focusing on the touches of your husband beneath your bedsheets, shamefully thinking back to that afternoon when George had you up on your kitchen counter and ate your pussy like it was his last meal. Andrew’s lazy and gentle strokes weren’t bad, just…different. Familiar. Expected. 

He moved as if he were cleaning you up rather than aiming to make you messier and although it felt good, it still fell short. You shut your eyes and tried to focus on it a little more, offering a soft hum to the dimly lit bedroom as your fingers grasped the pillow you were lying on. You exhaled to the ceiling, trying to relax yourself into the mattress without thinking too hard about the fact that your husband was pretty much eating another man’s cum out of you at that very moment. 

After only a few more seconds, Andrew pressed a sloppy wet kiss to your clit and then started to move back. Eyes snapping open, you set your hand on top of his head over the sheets, holding him in place as you requested quietly, “Can you put your fingers in me too?”

“Sure.” he chuckled faintly, words muffled by the sheets and duvet. 

You felt him glide his fingers across your slick pussy and then he was sinking two inside you slowly, right down to the knuckle. His tongue followed again and he lapped at your clit while his fingers pushed strongly inside you all the way and back out in slow thrusts. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, keeping your hand on the back of his head, “Faster.”

He followed your demand with fingers and tongue, ravishing you a little faster until his jaw was starting to ache and his hand was cramping up from those quick thrusts. Andrew hummed flatly against you and slowed himself down after a few seconds and before he could stop completely, you were squirming slightly underneath him. 

“Can you only go, like, halfway with your fingers?” you requested quietly. 

There was a pause and then movement as he shuffled his way out of the sheets to let them fall to the end of the bed, exposing your naked body to the air conditioned bedroom. He caressed your hip gently with a quiet, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” you replied almost too fast, “Why?” 

“It’s just…you’ve never had to tell me what to do before. I always usually make you cum.”

“I know, I know.” you assured him quickly, wracking your brain for an excuse, “Was just wanting to try new things.”

Andrew smiled faintly at you and nodded, “Okay.”

You returned his soft smile and he leaned down to kiss your lips, once, twice, and a third time before he was sitting back on his knees and shuffling out of his underwear. You tried to hide your disappointment that he wasn’t going to go down on you some more behind a tightlipped smile as he met your gaze and pulled the sheets up around you both again. Habitually, your legs went around his thighs as he situated himself on top of you and his lips locked with yours again in slow sensual kisses, tangling together as husband and wife in your shared bed like how it was supposed to be. 

“Ready?” he asked softly. 

“Mhm.” you slid your hands up his back and scratched your fingers across his shoulder blades lightly as he got himself situated. 

The head of his cock nudged against your dripping pussy and your muscles fluttered at the sensation, naturally waiting for him to finally push inside you. And, when he did, his eyes stayed focused on yours without breaking away for even a second, watching your expression as he filled you completely. Your hands rested on his back as you stared right back at his face, taking in his dark and handsome features that you loved so dearly, and yet part of you was already missing George’s blue eyed gaze. 

The flicker of a guilty wince across your expression was covered with ease by the first thrust from your husband as he started to make love to you properly. He kissed your lips sweetly, sharing single little fleeting kisses and soft breaths as you tangled under the sheets together. His thrusts were slow and deep and so incredibly loving, something that had been so comforting over the recent few years together. Something you didn’t realize mattered much. Not until George came over that afternoon and shook your very knowledge of reality and pleasure to its core.

Andrew broke away from your kiss to tuck his face into your neck and your arms wrapped entirely around his back to hold him on top of you, whimpering softly against his shoulder as he took you over like that. Your eyes scrunched shut and you desperately tried to stay in the moment, clinging onto your husband’s beautiful caramel skin and the scent of his office that lingered on him; copy ink and paper. His warm breaths fell against your neck in gentle pants in time with his precise thrusts, your bed squeaking faintly beneath you. 

But your mind was straying again, drifting to the house next door and the man who had his way with you that afternoon; the one who somehow made you see stars for the first time in years. That used to be you and Andrew or so you recalled as the memories faded with time, but now it was all so fresh with George and you were drunk on the newfound adrenaline of it all. You tried to hush your mind from begging you to do it again and again and again with the man who had his own wife and his own family and who wasn’t legally bound to you in any way. 

Just because you couldn’t have him didn’t mean you couldn’t think of him. With your eyes closed tightly and your husband’s face still tucked warmly in your neck as he made love to you gently into your bed, you shamelessly imagined him to be George instead. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip and your mind swirled with memories from that afternoon and the dirty words that your neighbour spoke to you. You imagined him saying such things to you now, holding you down on your bed, fucking you like you never knew you needed. 

As you clung onto your husband, your lips formed the words without thought, mouthing them silently to the ceiling, “Yes, sir.”

George took up your mind until your thoughts were so vivid that you swore you could smell him right there with you, taking the place of your husband. Even Andrew’s soft sounds were that of George and you were buzzing off the fresh memory that burned within you, completely encapsulated by the man that wasn’t yours. You could do nothing else but picture him on top of you instead, mouthing his name to your bedroom ceiling over and over as if speaking to him in your mind. 

“That’s it.”

The breathy faint voice that ghosted across your ear tore you from the strength of your imagination but the power that George still held over you kept you going just that little bit longer. 

“Holy shit, you’re gonna cum already?” Andrew chuckled against your cheek, “I can fucking feel it.” 

“Shh.” you pulled his face back into your neck, playing it off effortlessly that you were too close for casual conversation. That wasn’t entirely a lie because the words that George spoke to you in your memory were certainly bringing you closer by the second, urging your muscles to tighten up around your husband’s dick. 

Andrew kept his pace going even as your nails pressed into the muscles of his back and your body fell into pleasure beneath his. Your orgasm certainly wasn’t as strong as the two you had that afternoon but it was still real and it still felt good, regardless of the slight disappointment that filled your guilty conscience. 

“Yes.” you squeaked out, tangling your hand in the back of his hair to grip tightly to his soft brunette roots, “Fuck-”

“Oh my God.” Andrew groaned from over top of you, shifting away from you a little to get a better angle with his hands pressed onto the pillow on either side of your head.

Panting softly underneath him, your hands slid down to his biceps and you held onto him as he thrusted into you a little faster, those big brown eyes staring right into your distracted gaze. He was still as beautiful as ever to you and the expression of pleasure that spread across his face was just as breathtaking as the first night you shared together six years earlier. Only seconds later, he was pulling out of you and coming right across your abdomen with the added help of his own hand, offering quiet moans to your bedroom walls as he finished himself off. You watched him closely, tearing your eyes away from his face to glance down between you under the sheets to get a glimpse at the mess he made across your flushed skin. 

“Shit.” he huffed and carefully shifted off of you. 

You took the sheets from him to hold them up and out of the way as he rolled over to grab a few tissues from the bedside table. He helped to clean you up like the gentleman he was and then you let the blankets fall gracefully over the both of you as he leaned in for a few breathless kisses. 

“How was that?” he asked teasingly. 

You bit back your smile, “Good.”

“Good?” he laughed lightly, feigning offence, “Just good, huh?”

“You know what I mean.” you swatted his chest playfully. 

Andrew tossed the sheets back and swung his legs off the bed, “I’m gonna throw this out. Did you want water or anything?”

“I’m okay.” 

He leaned back down towards you for one more kiss, “Okay. Be right back.”

You tucked the sheets up to your chin as you watched him stand up and shuffle his underwear back on before he was patting across the carpeted floor to the ensuite bathroom. When he was out of view, your eyes drifted to the flowers still resting on the dresser across the room and you nibbled at your bottom lip to try and keep the guilt at bay. Then, you looked straight up at the ceiling instead, trying to settle the rapid beating of your heart over the realization that you had to think of another man apart from your husband to get off. That had never happened before. 

Andrew’s gentle humming came from the bathroom as he brushed his teeth and finished getting ready for bed and you tried to let the familiarity of his voice soothe you but it didn’t do much. Instead, you just kept wondering what George sounded like when he sang or what music he played when he baked or if he was thinking of you as much as you were thinking of him. How ridiculous. How absolutely teenage of you. 

“Alright,” Andrew emerged from the bathroom and joined you in bed once more, “all set.”

You reached over to your bedside table to turn off your lamp before laying beside him again, habitually wrapping yourself up under his arm. He kissed your head and sighed as he settled, holding you close under your shared sheets. 

“I love you.” he said through the dark. 

You rested your cheek against his shoulder, “I love you too.”

Andrew was drifting quickly after a long day but you were still wide awake, staring blankly across the room to the front windows and their shut curtains. You aimlessly trailed your fingertips over your husband’s chest and the faint dusting of chest hair that grew down between his pecs, wondering to yourself that if Andrew still felt like home to you, why did your mind crave to be elsewhere. Mostly, you tried not to think of George.

You really tried. 

PART TWO

My Very Extensive Tag List™:

@wetforwolff

[loliwrites]

Yard Work | The One You Need

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader  summary: drabble from the “The One You Need” universe warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, fluff, allusions to a blowjob, body worship [arms], terms of endearment [sweetheart], female reader, reader wears a bikini, no physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 1.5k series masterlist a/n: for @joelmillerisapunk’s ppcu body worship writing challenge. all about joel miller and them delicious arms

Summer in Austin wasn’t so bad when there was a chaise lounge chair to sprawl out on, on the deck with the sun beating its rays down upon you. It also wasn’t too bad when you had a hot neighbor who, on a fairly regular basis, gave you the best sex of your life, and who also coincidentally did all the manual labor around the house for you. Because while you were sprawled out in a bikini on a less than hotel style chaise, nursing a beer which was quickly losing its cool and condensating on the glass, Joel was out in your backyard, mowing the lawn.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

“Your fuckin’ grass is gettin’ so long, it’s bringing down the value of my house,” Joel pointed out while in bed that morning. All he had to do was look out your window and see the jungle being created by your lack of a gardener.

“Whoever should I get to tidy it up?” You only smirked, leaning over and straddling his body with yours. Surely, soft kisses down his chest would do the trick.

“A gardener,”

Your pouted, lips pressed to his sternum, and continued your way down to his stomach, adding your tongue to the mix for safe measure. If he was going to play hard to get, you could play a little harder. By the time you reached the waistband of his boxer-briefs, you could see the outline of his shaft, now half-hard. “What kind of payment would you like, Mr. Gardener?” You batted your eyelashes up at him while your fingertips coyly tucked beneath his waistband and pulled back just enough for his length to spring out and fall back against his waist.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.” He grinned and set his hand on the back of your head, adding just a hint of pressure, “get to work.”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

His old, gasoline push mower was capable enough for handling the size of your suburban backyard. A riding lawn mower might’ve been more efficient – or at least one of those new-fangled electric mowers that self-propelled. But this old Toro lawn mower, surely from the 90s, was reliable. Just like the man using it.

You paid for it first but now seeing him work, it definitely felt like you’d short changed him. He was putting on quite the show without even knowing it. Midway through your rather unkempt backyard, Joel let the gas lawn mower come to a stop. You’d paid him extra attention when the grumbling of the machine quieted, and found that he was reaching for the hem of his t-shirt. Hands tucked beneath it, he raised the lower half up and dragged it across his forehead, wiping away the sweat. The softness of his belly on partial display. And then as if realizing he was insane for keeping the shirt on in this heat in the first place, pulled the garment over his head. He tucked a corner of it into the back pocket of his jeans, letting the rest of it fly and whip behind him like a flag.

Then, nudging sunglasses down the bridge of your nose, you ogled at the way he bent over and hooked his fingers around the plastic grip of the pull cord. His long arm stretched fully, and then with a quick yank back, he tugged the cord upward. His bicep and tricep flexed simultaneously, the cuts of the muscles showing in his skin. That glorious machine. You could’ve kissed it on the spot. Old. Reliable. But temperamental. It didn’t roar to life with the first pull. His arm outstretched again. The sinewy tendons in his forearm became visible as he grabbed for the cord again. Then another pull back. Every muscle in his arm seemed to work in tandem, from his forearm right up to his shoulder. 

Now the mower roared to life. And the man behind it, ready to get the job done, put some force behind it and got the machine moving again. Cutting down the grass you weren’t sure you’d let get out of control just so you could have this very moment. You pushed your sunglasses up the bridge of your nose and laid back in your chaise, satisfied to revert to the mental image you had of him in your fantasies while the noise of the mower continued on. It wasn’t just that idea of being in the arms of a man. In your experience, there weren’t too many men worth being in the arms of. Though on the surface, the ogling of his arms – those beautiful, strong arms – was nothing but a bit of objectification, the truth dug so much deeper. 

Because it was the time you stopped at a job site after Joel had left his lunch at home. Surely he could’ve bought something, but he’d worked so hard on prepping a full lunch for it to go to waste in the insulated lunchbox forgotten on the kitchen counter. And at the job site, you spotted him with a long two by four propped on his shoulder, arm flexed to keep it steady as he walked it into the framed house. And the way you reached forward and set your free hand on his upper arm; fingers grazing along the cut of his bicep. How he pivoted his head and looked back at you. An instant smile spread across his face. The wrinkles by his eyes accentuated. 

It was also the time you’d had that terrible date. The one that ended on your front porch, hoping this guy would leave without incident despite him being a little more forward than you would’ve liked. How when he tried to push his way in, Joel materialized there. Only finding out later that night that he’d tucked his handgun into the back of his waistband. Just incase. But before that, when the boy, having grown disenchanted with the idea of bedding you walked off, how Joel used his frame to block you. His arms hung almost comfortably at his sides. Big. Muscular. Even later that night, when you followed behind him with your hand in his back pocket as he cleared your house of any potential burglars. How his arms felt like the ultimate protection. As if nothing would be able to touch you as long as you stayed behind them. Behind him. 

His arms were a great source of power. But they were also capable of such gentleness. More than you’d ever known. The same arms that were capable of carrying two by fours upon them were equally capable of wrapping around your waist and pulling you back into the cradle of his chest. The arms that had offered their formidable protection were the same ones that you often linked your hand around as you walked through the neighborhood in the evenings.

Then somewhere between the mental image of you curled up against him on the couch watching tv, and being caged beneath his arms in bed, you felt a weight settle over you and came to the awareness that the lawn mower had quieted down. You blinked a couple times to get your eyes used to the new brightness despite your sunglasses, and found Joel on top of you – hips nestled between your legs; his back pressed against your abdomen, and his head rested against your sternum. 

With a smile, you pressed your lips to the top of his head and trailed your hands down from his shoulders to his biceps. “I don’t pay hourly,” you smiled again and tucked your hands around his torso. 

“You’re a bad employer,” he smirked and took a deep breath. “Jus’ needed a break and you looked comfortable,”

You nodded, practically to yourself and gently dragged your fingernails over his skin. Then, because they just looked so tempting, you trailed your fingers back to his arms. Starting as far down as you could reach since his hands were curled around your legs and hooked over your shins, you settled with the crook of his elbow. The vein there protruded from beneath the thin skin, and you followed up back into his bicep, where the muscle flexed beneath your touch.

Joel tilted his head back with a deep inhale. On the exhale, he released a moan that made you think he might just leave your lawn half-completed. And while you definitely would want to see his muscles flexing as he jostled you around in bed, and then again when he’d surely curl his hand around your throat, you also wanted your backyard to look semi respectable – at least the HOA would want you to.

“That lawn’s not gonna mow itself,”

“Five minutes,” he mumbled. The sound of that made you think his eyes were long closed, “restin’ my eyelids.”

“We both know if you wait five minutes, you’re never gonna get back to it. And if you don’t get back to it, how are you gonna get your next blowjob for completion?”

He started to rile almost immediately. Enough that his arms now jostled you in trying to sit up and get away as quickly as possible. Then with speed you were sure his joints fought against, he ran across the grass, back to the mower, and bent forward for the pull cord again.

That wonderful, glorious, pull cord.

[yanderestarangel]

can you write some headcanons for smoke (tomas vrbada) from mk1? there’s barely anything on tumblr for him😭

HEADKANONS | TOMAS VRBADA - SMOKE MK1

TW: SFW, NSFW Headcanons, AFAB Anatomy, Husband!Tomas.

A/N: thanks for the idea anon<3 I miss this big guy on tumblr, Tomas my love deserves more attention.

He is the shy type, a loving, passionate and gentle lover, even with his most serious exterior he melts in your arms.

Tomas loves just being at home with you, especially if you are married - whether it is an arranged marriage or a spontaneous marriage - he likes you, if it is an arranged marriage he will be shy to even talk to you, but he will do his best to being a good husband, respecting your limits, remembering important dates like your birthday - he even saves money to buy something you really want and makes dinner for you -

He is the type that will want to be your safe haven, if you live in the same house with him, you will take care of the house while he goes out to work with the Liu Kuei clan, but if you want to work for him that's fine, but he You will be reluctant at first for fear of being hurt in some way.

Tomas doesn't allow you to be close to Bi Han, don't take him the wrong way, he's just afraid because he knows his brother, Bi Han doesn't like anyone and probably if you and Tomas are married by arrangement, it was the grandmaster himself who forced him both to get married, as a form of "humiliation" for Vrbada, but it had the opposite effect, he was happy to have someone like you.

He's the type who only talks if you talk to him, he's always been like that, sometimes if you get too distracted he'll even forget that Tomas is at home, getting scared when you turn around and see him at the kitchen table, cutting his teeth vegetables for dinner for both of you.

On his days off from the clan, he likes to just spend time with you, watching movies, taking care of the house - mowing the grass, reading some books, practicing some new moves or, if you want, sex all day long, oral, anal, vaginal , whatever you want and order he will do to you, do you want him to fuck you from the outside? He goes. Do you want him to fuck you with his dick all over the house? He goes. Do you want to suck his dick? He'll let you stand between his legs until you're satisfied - he loves your blowjobs, especially if you pay attention to his balls, even if he's too shy to talk.

Tomas has a twenty centimeter dick, thick, slightly bent to the right with two thick veins that stand out on the sides, which pulsate extremely when he is hard. The color is pink at the tip going halfway, he is very sensitive - he gets hard with practically anything you do, even cumming in his pants if you tease him, especially if you masturbate him through the fabric, he whimpers and begs to cum, begging for your pussy, mouth, breasts anything, he just needs your body connected to his-

He values your pleasure first, but sometimes he can't hold back, cumming before you do, he's embarrassed, blushing while apologizing to you, but he won't stop trying to make you cum, he has so much repressed lust :( Tomas will continue to have a hard-on even after the first orgasm, that is, he will make you cum, whether with his dick, mouth, fingers or taking turns between the three, after all, it's your pleasure that matters to him.

He loves fingering you, always paying attention to your clit, he knows the right spots, where to touch, where to massage and how to massage - Tomas will finger you with both fingers, using his thumb to pay attention to your throbbing bud, while you praised him for holding his fingers so well - Example:

"-Good boy | Good girl"

"-Pretty little doll"

"-Babydoll"

"-Little prince | Little princess"

"-Sweetheart"

"-My angel"

"-My boy | My girl"

"-Mine, mine alone"

"-You've done well/a good job my love."

"-You're making me really happy right now baby."

"-Fuck that's it, I know you can take it all."

Cowgirl - Tomas likes to see you in control, your pleasured face bouncing on his dick, as he watches your pussy being impaled by his dick, Vrbada's strong hands on your waist, squeezing the soft flesh of your body as he watches your breasts jump with each movement, he helps you by praising you and moaning to let you know that he is loving it, he is also quite vocal, you can see Tomas' face contorting with pleasure, his worked muscles trembling with each ride of your pussy tight on him, just keep enjoying yourself on his dick as he praises you for being so good for him as he cums inside your pussy with a guttural moan.

Reverse cowgirl - Vrbada loves seeing your ass bouncing on his crotch, how your back and waist look so delicate while your pussy swallows him greedily, he tries to be a gentleman with you but loses control, holding your ass tightly , slapping and fucking you at his pace.

Missionary - He loves this position because he can look at you, every reaction of pleasure, every time his cock slips out of your pussy, every time you moan when he pushes his thick shaft into your uterus, he always captures your pleasure, praising you and talking looking into your eyes how beautiful you are, while kissing you on your neck, breasts, face,lips, placing his forehead on yours while closing his eyes or looking down, seeing your wet intimacies, he loves seeing your full belly, with a slight elevation caused by his seed - he loves making a good creampie, taking his fingers up yours sensitive hole and dirtying the tips, rubbing it on your lips while he made you taste his cum.

Bonus: The only time you saw him angry was when Bi-Han betrayed him and Kuai Liang, he arrived at your house, an aura of anger and black smoke surrounding him tightly, you didn't even have time to ask. Tomas's anger and frustration seemed to radiate from him as he entered the room, his emotions practically palpable. Without saying a word, he took off his mask and kissed you fiercely, his desperation and anger evident in his actions. As he rubbed his hard cock against your body, you could feel the intensity of his emotions swirling between you. It was clear that he intended to release his anger through fucking, and you were more than willing to be his outlet. His grip tightened around your waist as he turned you around, removing your shorts and exposing your delicate pussy. With one hand, he easily trapped his legs, holding you in place as he ravished you with an almost primal intensity. "-Fucking Bi-Han." -Tomas growled, his voice mixed with anger and frustration. "-He betrayed us, son of a bitch, our father would be so disappointed... he was always so cold to me... shit shit, I thought he was my brother." As he continued to thrust into your pussy, his movements becoming more urgent and forceful, he tore off your shirt, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. The sight of your bare flesh only intensified his need, your lewd growls echoing through the room, he pushed his fingers into your mouth making you suck on them. "-Take my fingers, my dirty little slut" -ordered Tomas, his voice dripping with dark desire. "-Suck them, show me how eager you are to please me." With each strong thrust, Tomas vented his anger on your poor pussy.

[coff33andb00ks]

Mountain Mama - LH

Lewis Hamilton x unnamed ofc summary: You can take the girl out of the country, but can you ever really take the country out of the girl? songs: Take Me Home, Country Roads by John Denver and Is This Love by Bob Marley & The Wailers a.n.: am currently soft for Lewis and had to write to get him out of my system spoiler alert it didn't work warnings: discussions of prejudice and racism, pure disgusting fluff, author unabashedly shows her love for country music, author also is fully in love with one sir lewis Hamilton now

She wasn't worried about her family liking Lewis. Her sister had already met him and was doing her part to talk him up as the greatest man that ever lived to the rest of the family. She knew there was a wary level of respect between her parents and Lewis after their unofficial meeting over FaceTime. He'd been a little shy but very sweet, telling them a little about himself, and later her mother had said well he seems like a nice young man.

High praise from mama, who'd called her last boyfriend dried up dog shit.

Her father hadn't said anything about him. He didn't follow formula one, only knew about it because of her photography, so he didn't know who Lewis was. But when he'd texted her to tell her he'd watched a bit of the race after she'd confirmed Lewis was coming home with her during summer break she knew he was at least trying.

So here she was, behind the wheel of the rental car, driving to her parents' home with Lewis in the passenger seat and Roscoe in the back. Music was on, the windows were down, and with each mile she traveled closer to home she felt both more relaxed and more anxious.

She needed them to like him. They didn't have to love him, call him the son they'd always wanted, or even add his name to the Christmas card list. They didn't need to learn everything about him. She just needed them to like him enough to want him around when she came home for a visit. She needed them to like him and understand how very much she loved him.

They would bristle a little bit. Especially Grandma. Because he was older. Almost 40 and never married? Hm… And all those tattoos… She could hear Grandma clicking her tongue in disapproval over the tapestry of artwork that covered most of his body. And her father's eyebrows would hit his receding hairline when Lewis inevitably dressed as though he'd just stepped out of Vogue to go down to the diner in town for lunch on Friday.

"Babe." Lewis spoke just loud enough to be heard over the music. She glanced over at him, saw his playful little smile as he lifted his phone.

"No," she laughed when the song playing ended and another began. Immediately recognizable because it was one of her lifelong favorites. The one her grandpa had sang on summer nights around the bonfire when he was a few slugs of moonshine deep.

Lewis held up his hands and swayed in time to the music. "Almost heaven, West Virginia… Blue Ridge mountains, Shenandoah river…"

And she had to sing along, because she always did. Because it was her favorite, yes, but also because he always sang it. The man who shook his head in disappointment over all the other so-called embarrassing songs on her Spotify never failed to belt out John Denver with his entire soul.

She slowed, turning onto the path that wound through the trees, anticipation growing as the trees grew further apart, spreading into the dusty lawn she'd learned to ride a bike on. A turn and she saw it. Home. The front porch where she'd sat on her grandma's lap sipping lemonade. The ever present barn cat sitting on the top step, black tail twitching. Her dad's truck was parked crookedly near the back of the house and she could just see the sheets rippling in the breeze on the clothesline in the back yard.

Stopped, song still playing, she stared at the place she'd grown up, trying to view it as a newcomer. The grass needed mowing, the barn needed a new coat of paint. The roof on the old smokehouse was sagging a little. The porch railing looked crooked. But for every imperfection she saw a beautiful memory. How many millions of dandelions had she picked when the grass got a little tall? Up in the hay loft of the barn her name was carved into the top plank. The smokehouse, which had always held the lingering aroma of curing meat, had been the best spot during hide and seek. And she'd been leaning against that porch railing when she'd had her first kiss.

Her throat tightened with emotion.

Home.

"C'mon, mountain mama," Lewis said softly, unbuckling his seatbelt.

She wanted to apologize for not growing up rich, for not having a stately home to show him. She knew she didn't have to. Lewis didn't care about that, and he hadn't grown up much better than she had. He only cared about seeing where she'd been raised and meeting the people who'd raised her. What had he said when she'd asked him to come home with her?

I already love that little town because it made you.

She climbed out while he got Roscoe out of the backseat, and was opening her mouth to tell him they could get their bags later when the screen door banged.

"Is that my baby finally come to see me?"

It wouldn't matter if it had been two weeks or two months or two years, she would get that greeting. Not even bothering to close the car door she broke into a run, jumping the top step and laughing through tears as she was wrapped in her grandma's arms.

"Oh I miss these hugs." Grandma kissed her cheek, gripping her shoulders and holding her at arm's length. "Look at you. That boy of yours is treating you right, huh?"

"He is, Grandma," she promised, looking back to see Lewis closing the car door.

"Oh." Grandma squinted her eyes a bit. "He is handsome."

She giggled. "Heart of gold, Grandma."

"What's his name again? Louis?"

"Lewis."

As if he knew they were talking about him he glanced to the porch, smiling. Roscoe was already making his way to the steps, looking warily at the cat.

"Go on, get," Grandma said, shooing the cat away.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Grandma's shoulders were a little more stooped, her hands a little more shaky. Why oh why did time have to go by so quickly? Pushing away the invasive thoughts of her beloved grandmother not being around forever, she slid her hand into Lewis's once he was on the porch. "Grandma, this is Lewis. Lewis, this is Grandma."

"It's so nice to finally meet you, ma'am." He extended his hand and as soon as he smiled she knew her grandma was smitten.

"Oh honey aren't you sweet." She shook his hand. "Well, c'mon in – is that dog house trained?"

"Better than some humans," he promised with a grin.

They'd barely gotten into the house when her father came to greet them. He wasn't nearly as smitten as grandma, and she recognized the old macho act he'd played on all her old boyfriends. Then her mother came hurrying out of the kitchen, bringing with her the aroma of lemon meringue and peach cobbler.

There was overlapping chatter. Greetings and questions and the beginnings of an interrogation. Roscoe was cooed over by Grandma, given a begrudging welcome by her dad.

"I straightened up your old room," mama said when Lewis excused himself to go get their bags. "And got new sheets for your sister's old room."

"Is she staying too?" she asked in confusion, squatting to give Roscoe ear scratches.

"Of course not – you know her and Dale are almost finished the new addition on the back of their place? The twins will have a nice big playroom."

"Are the twins staying?" Why would mama need to do anything to her sister's room?

"No… It's for your boyfriend."

She froze. Oh god. Of course her mother would think… "Mama…"

"It's not fancy or anything but I don't think he'll mind do you? It's got plenty of room for him and Roscoe."

At that, Roscoe nudged her hand, silently begging for more scratches. "Mama, I thought he'd sleep in my room."

"Oh. Well you two can switch." Her mother shrugged.

"Jesus, Kathy, she wants to sleep with the boy," her father said loudly.

Surprise, Mama, I'm not a virgin!

"I don't think your dad likes me."

She looked up from unpacking her suitcase. Usually she didn't, usually she just rummaged to get what she needed, but she'd wanted a break before the rest of the family arrived for the cookout. The time change was affecting her a little and she wanted to get a nap in.

"What makes you say that?" she asked, setting her toiletry bag on the dresser.

"He calls me boy." Lewis was standing at the window, hands in his pockets, looking out at the back yard. Where her father and brother in-law were firing up the grill.

"He doesn't mean… He calls anyone younger than him boy," she promised.

"I get it. Really, babe," he said, looking over at her. "It just rubs me wrong."

"Do you want me to talk to him?" she asked, crossing the room.

"Will it change anything?"

"He's not like that, Lewis. He's southern, yes, he's a good ol' country boy, pickup truck, cold beer, guns and 'Murica, Toby Keith and Hank Jr, but he's not racist. If he's told that the way he says something is offensive, he stops saying it." She slipped her arms around him from behind, pressing her face to his back.

"It'll just make him like me even less," he sighed.

"No, babe… If he didn't like you, you wouldn't be in my bedroom."

He chuckled, covering her hands with his and interlocking their fingers. "Not only am I boy, I'm the asshole that deflowered his little girl."

She snorted at that. "Please, like I was an untouched virgin."

"How you were able to have sex way out here is a mystery to me."

"There are so many spots where you can go to be unseen," she told him.

Lewis hummed, unwrapping her arms and turning to face her. "Were you shagging farmer boys in the woods, babe?"

Leaning up, she pressed a kiss to his lips. "Once, yes. Most of the time it was in the cutoff down the old service road. Or out at the powerline."

"You weren't seduced in a bed?" He shook his head in disappointment. "I'm so sorry."

"And where was your first time, hm?"

He rolled his eyes. "Coat closet."

"That's even worse than a pickup truck."

"Didn't count, I wasn't in love."

"Oh see you didn't tell me that." Pulling on his hands, she walked backwards towards the bed. "That changes everything."

"Hotel room? Back seat of a car?" he guessed, letting her pull him along.

"A penthouse, actually," she murmured as she fell onto the bed.

He hesitated briefly then joined her, holding himself above her. "Penthouse? In Bumfuck Virginia?"

"You said it only counted if I was in love, right?"

"Mhmm."

"Penthouse. Monte-Carlo. Afterwards he took a bubble bath with me and we danced to Bob Marley." She watched his eyes soften and leaned up to meet his lips in a kiss. "He was the first one that made me feel loved."

"Does he still make you feel it?" he whispered between kisses.

"Every day."

"If he ever doesn't make you feel that way, will you tell him?"

"Yes." She kissed him again.

"Promise?" he whispered.

"Promise."

The food was delicious, and she was so happy her parents had made vegan alternatives for Lewis she could have cried. He seemed happy too, and during the meal she watched him talk with her dad and Dale, heart swelling each time he turned to praise her mama's cooking. Roscoe was parked between them, his gentle snoring just barely noticeable above the music playing.

It was a balmy evening, lightning bugs flashing as the sun sank low, and she watched Lewis's head drop back with a groan after he finished a third helping of Grandma's peach cobbler. "I think I hurt myself eating, ma'am."

Grandma glowed, patting his hand. "It's how I won her Papa," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

Lewis chuckled, rubbing his abdomen with his free hand. "If I was twenty years older…"

She beamed as Grandma giggled, so obviously charmed she looked twenty years younger in the golden glow of the sinking sun. "Oh bless your heart, honey, I don't think you could handle me."

"I can barely handle her," Lewis told her in a stage whisper.

And she knew her family liked him. Their laughter was natural, the conversation flowed. Her twin nephews kept coming over to him, asking him questions about his tattoos, his jewelry, and she fell in love all over again at how patient and gentle he was with them.

When he insisted on helping with cleanup she saw the warmth of approval in her dad's eyes. The twins said they would help, too, and she could only look on as they followed him back into the house, Roscoe taking up the rear.

"He's a good one," Grandma said.

"He's alright." This from her dad, and it was the best she knew she could get for now.

"I like him a lot, honey. You ain't looked this happy in a long time." Mama squeezed her shoulder on her way past, and right behind her was her sister, flashing a grin as she helped gather the platters.

"You wanna take a walk?" her father asked.

It was a callback to her childhood. Dad always said it was to work off what he'd just had to eat, but she had figured out in her early teenage years it was his way of checking in on her. Their walks after dinner had been when they'd bonded, and as she fell into step next to him and they strolled beyond the barn she realized how much she missed these walks.

"I didn't want to like him."

She pressed her lips together to keep from asking why. Always best to just stay silent and let him get all his thoughts out in his own way.

"He's a little older than you. But I think that's what you need. Someone to keep your head from floating with the clouds." He sighed, snapping a leaf off the old oak tree as they walked under the branches. "And… You know how people are around here, honey."

She nodded. "But not you, dad," she whispered.

"I don't give a shit, you know that. But even Dale said something, and… I know you always worry about what people think."

"I used to," she said.

"You always hid away from the world. And I let you. Thought I was protecting you from how bad it can be sometimes." He twirled the leaf between his fingers, sending it swirling. "You're out in it, now. Can't protect you anymore."

"I don't need protecting, daddy," she promised.

"You telling me your knight back there doesn't protect you?" he asked, stopping at the fence to the back pasture. "That bo – sorry. That man loves you, honey."

"I know. And I love him."

"People around here will talk." He propped his arm on the fencepost and looked out. "Ain't got nothing better to do."

"I don't care what they say." And she didn't. She used to, yes, used to care too much, pretending to be someone else so she'd be accepted. The only people whose opinions mattered were inside the house and standing beside her.

"Good. Because I want him to come around more often."

"You like him?" she asked. She knew he did, but she needed to hear him say it.

"Yeah, he's alright," he chuckled. Throwing his arm around her shoulders when she groaned, he pulled her in close.

"Dad…"

"Rest easy, honey. I like him. Long as he treats you right I'll never say a word against him."

They stayed at the fence and she let herself be her dad's little girl for a few more minutes, watching the sunlight fade. Walking back to the house she could hear music still playing, but now instead of her dad and Dale's country it was the smooth beats of reggae and she was smiling as she entered the kitchen to see Lewis dancing with the twins to Is This Love.

He spun to face her, face lighting, and ducked to speak to her nephews then held a hand out to her, drawing her to him. His lips met her forehead. "I wanna love ya, I wanna love and treat, love and treat you right…" he crooned softly as they danced in her mama's kitchen.

"You better," she whispered. "Because I think they like you more than me."

His laugh was warmer than any sunlight, and she didn't mind at all when he kissed her then broke away to ask her grandma to dance.

She missed all of this, the love and the comfort and all the memories.

But she couldn't wait for the love and memories to come.

[xo-codbby]

ex-husband!simon who didn't understand boundaries after you both got divorced

because you were still his, whatever the law stated was completely false. they didn't know a thing for gods sake, he was still yours. he made that vow till death do we part and unless he somehow died and resurrected as someone else, he was going to make good on his word.

and it started out small, visiting the house every week when he had the chance to stock up on the food he'd know you'd forget. filling up your gas, keeping the spare key in his back pocket in case you ever needed him. you weren't too willing but who else was going to help you move those big packages? who else was going to mow the grass, change the bin bag help with the cleaning up after a dinner. yeah, he had his little flat downtown but he lived with you for years and he grew accustomed to that routine.

it quickly took a different turn however when he started noticing a new man coming by your place more and more often, eyes narrowed as his hands clenched over the wheel. he couldn't even think of another woman and you already had one touching your body? he immediately sent a picture to soap, one word text to analyse this man completely and thoroughly

he got a text back within a half hour with all the information he could ever have and more, right down to the type of porn this guy watch. a pretty thing like you couldn't certainly be with a guy like him, no you needed simon. he was your husband once upon a time, all he needed to do was fan the flames of your love once more. the embers were still there, burning deep inside. he was sure of it

ghost wasn't known to be subtle, action first and words later. he knocked thrice, briskly on the front door. looking around the neighbourhood before looking back at the door. your eyes in shock as you glance up at simon, not expecting him to be here

and of course he was there dressed in his usual black clothes, mask covering his face as his eyes settle down on you. sleeves rolled up, showing the scars from the countless missions he had been on and the black ink you spend endless mornings tracing waiting for him to wake up. all those feelings stirred deep in your gut and your brows furrow, taking a step back as you tried to speak

but you don't get to say a word, completely silenced when he enters your home. thick muscles caging you to the wall, coarse hands settling on your hips as he kicked the door shut behind him. his head tilts, an inch away from yours feeling his hands steady your body in the way he only knew.

"tryin to replace me already love?" he pulls his mask over his nose bridge and you falter, the soft scent of his musk and cologne floods your senses. it takes you back and you try not to make it too obvious how much you needed him, all those days that had gone past doing fine without him had started crumble

"what're you doin-" "taking what's mine" his finger tilts your head, trying to steal your breath and hold it hostage with his lips. feeling his tongue coax your lips open, demanding but so tender cradling your face. you were so caught up in the moment, you didn't see your new man come up from the living room. protesting as he reached for his phone

"i'll put a bullet right between your eyes before you even get to dial a number" simon's words were cool, tone harsh, brown eyes darkened behind his balaclava at the man who shakily stood there. he looked to you, confused and shocked but you could only look at simon blinking up at him mind spinning as you tried to catch your breath. parts of you were amused, he was still so easy to piss off even now. but disbelief and the soft flicker of affection coursed through your veins as you stood there beside him. his warmth reminding you of all those times you spend in his arms, hands stroking your skin, lips peppering the most sweetest kisses across your face

that was then, this was now you tried to remind yourself. you were divorced from him, there was nothing that was connecting the both of you. you had someone new, you broke up with simon for a reason

"now where did we leave off, sweetheart?" his thumb traces the slope of your cheekbone, right to your lower lip. lips pulled in the most softest smiles, you couldn't understand how gentle looked even when he threatened your new boyfriend with a gun. even when he barged into your home, even when he wanted to come back to your arms. discarding the divorce as if it meant nothing at all

another hand jolts you from the daydream and you feel simon stiffen, jaw clenched tightly as looks down at your other hand interlaced with the man trying to get you far

"c'mon lets go-" "get y'fuckin' hands off of my wife. now"

[thatsdemko]

Monaco lover - d.ricciardo

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: Daniel ricciardo x fem!reader

summary: with Daniel not racing, he begins to find new hobbies with his wife.

warnings: established relationships + fluff

a/n: only right I post for daniels bday!!

the basket in his hand is beginning to get heavier by the second, as you keep adding fresh fruits and vegetables from the little local farmers market.

you’re more than hours away from the loud music, busy streets, and the infamous Monaco circuit. your new home is a perfect escape from the city of formula 1.

it was Daniels decision to move away from the big lights and party animals after he no longer had a seat on the 2023 grid. he wanted a reset on life, and there was no perfect way to do it than far away from the cameras.

“you think we have enough to feed everyone?” you look at the overgrowing basket in his arms. leaves of lettuce and kale are hanging out brushing against his thighs as you walk up and down the slow streets.

“more than enough.” he assured you with a chuckle. it’s been weird to have Daniel home so often. you don’t hate it, formula 1 once took the man you loved and wore him down into a shell of himself. now away from the McLaren and happily in a reserve seat for Red Bull, you can begin to see that smile brighten everyday.

“well then let’s go home and wash everything, I’m starving.” you loop your arm through his and let him lead the way to your car, one he knows he won’t get caught or stopped in.

it’s not hard to be recognized, he’s had neighbors stop him while mowing the lawn or gardening with you, but they mostly respect your space unlike the people of Monte Carlo, where the flashing of cameras never stop.

“what are you going to eat first? those strawberries looked really tasty.” he sets the basket in the back seat, before opening your passenger door planting a sweet kiss to your lips.

“I was thinking about those peaches, but now that you say the strawberries, I might have to join you on that.”

“not if I finish them first.”

—

you can’t tell if he’s bored or if he genuinely enjoys cutting the grass, gardening, and the small town farmers markets. you know there’s a certain thrill he’s missing, and maybe he does all these things to occupy his mind of the itch to get back.

but right now, he’s deep into a conversation with your neighbors about the lawn and your backyard garden. he’s showing them the vegetables, herbs, fruits, and flowers he’s planted like they are his children.

it’s weird to you, to see him this way, because all you ever knew was Daniel ricciardo, the racer of fast cars. now he’s the friendly helpful neighborhood hand.

“so you and the misuses are going away next week? where to?” you watch Daniel mock the man’s stance, hands on his hips nodding along as they walk to the backyard.

“just Miami, we shouldn’t be gone for too long.”

“Miami? what are you doing down there?” he asks, quizzical look taking his face. the perks of being away from the chaos of Monte Carlo, meant not everyone in this little small town knew Daniel. and that included your elder neighbors who loved you both dearly.

“just some work stuff, nothing crazy.”

“I thought you were unemployed?”

Daniel laughs, you can hear it from where you sit on the couch, “it’s a lot more complicated than unemployed.” and it truly was, while Daniel was bringing home the big bucks from not driving for mclaren, he anxiously awaits an opportunity for a Red Bull seat this season. some say unemployed delusions, Daniel calls it optimism.

he shakes his head, “you kids these days, you keep me on my toes.” he pats Daniels shoulder, “make sure you two come over later for dessert, okay?”

“oh we wouldn’t miss it.” Daniel waves him off before going inside to find you still wrapped up in the blankets, but this time wide awake with a smile.

“you have fun with your friend?” you sit upright crawling onto your knees to meet him for a kiss. he just laughs wrapping his arms around your neck and pressing s kiss to those lovely lips he calls home.

“I hope when I’m older I turn out to be just like him. tan, happy, and always making dessert.” he laughs a little hoping his future turns out like that. he’s already got the most perfect wife, and soon enough he’ll have the most perfect little family.

“he does make some stellar desserts. his wife is lucky, I wonder when my husband will start making me desserts.” you joke recalling when Daniel attempted to make boxed brownies, and somehow burnt them to a cracker.

“I’ll just stick with growing you fresh fruit and veggies, how about that?”

“I’ll take it.”

[dontsh0vethesun]

love thy neighbour

masterlist

milf!neighbour!wanda x fem!reader

18+: smut; pervy wanda tbh, oral, mommy kink, v slight degradation, praise, cheating, unspecified age gap (r is like 21 in my head)

a/n: this is not religious dw, also not super happy with this buuut its milfy and i'm gonna do another (and this is definitely not inspired by the milf neighbour i have a crush on)

Since she’d moved into the house across the street, Wanda had developed a sort of fascination with the younger woman she could often see through her bedroom window. 

It was only natural for her to feel rather enamoured by the showing of your skin, a curiosity at your changing in your room; pulling a shirt over your head, or letting a towel fall from around you after a shower. 

And goodness it was a delight to see you when you thought nobody was watching. When you’d think you were in the private confines of your room and your hand would wander or the touch of another would grace your skin. Occasionally she’d catch a glimpse of your face in the throes of pleasure and how her breath would shorten at the sight. 

She liked to watch you. But doing so from a distance can only quench so much of her thirst. She could only take so much before her hands would itch for the feeling of you beneath them, her lips against yours rather than the stale ones of her husband. You were that breath of fresh air she needed, the tempting thrill she yearned for. 

And so that’s what was on her mind on her wander across the street, heels against the pavement and legs warm from the sun with the gentle breeze swaying the fabric of her sundress. 

She heard your hurried footsteps on the other side of the door after she’d knocked and when it opened there you were. Right in front of her, so close she could touch you and you were even more pretty up close. 

“Hi, can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m Wanda. From across the street,” she smiled brightly, you couldn’t help but return it. 

“Right, of course you are, sorry. Um, my mom isn’t home but-“ 

“Oh, no. I’m here for you.”

“You are?”

“Mhm. See, I was wondering if you could help me out,” Wanda started. You felt your cheeks warm at the way she smiled oh so sweetly and the way her dress was taut over her breasts. “I need a little help mowing the lawn and I’m here all alone. And so I was hoping a young thing like you could help me out?” 

“Sure, I’d be happy to lend a hand,” you answered - how could you say no? She grinned brightly at your response and soon led your over to her house. 

–

You definitely felt Wanda’s eyes on you as you pushed the lawnmower along the grass, feeling the strain of your muscles beneath the glaring heat of the sun. You caught her watching a few times and she didn’t even attempt to look away after you noticed her in the act for the third time; it sent a flustered shiver of exhilaration through your spine to know you’d captured the attention of the older woman. 

You often see her coming back from dropping the twins off at school or from the store with bags of groceries. Occasionally you find yourself lucky enough to see her on the end of a run, tied up hair brushed behind her ears and a cap on her head, legs exposed by her shorts, and her cheeks coloured pink.

You’d definitely noticed her, feeling pathetic at such a juvenile giddy feeling when you’d see her through your window. You shouldn’t be crushing on your (married) neighbour but you can’t help it.

So when she offers you a drink you take it gratefully, trying not to shy away at the way she looked at you nor at the feeling of her arm against yours when she leaned beside you against the kitchen counter. 

“Thanks so much for this, sweet girl,” she uttered with that soothing southern droll. “My husband said he’d do it but y’know,” she trailed off with a shrug and a sip of her drink with the tapping of the ice against the glass. 

“Well, it’s no problem. You can always give me a shout if you need anything to be done,” you answered her, though you were surprised you could even get the words to fall from your lips at the way she looked at you so intently. 

Her lips shone with the lemonade and her tongue darted out to lick them clean. You didn’t miss the way her teeth dragged across the lipgloss-coated skin or the way she repositioned herself with her chest pushing out with a subtle arching of her back. She smirked at the shifting of your eye line, glancing down to her exposed chest. Her cleavage was perfectly on show, accidentally she would claim, and you looked anywhere but her smug face. 

The nervous clearing of your throat was cut short by a thumb and forefinger taking ahold of your chin, nudging your head to face hers. You caught sight of her darkened eyes, the way they flitted between yours and your lips. 

“Like what you see, hm?”

“I- Wanda I didn’t-”

“Yes you did,” she interrupted with a breathy laugh, moving her hand to cup your jaw. “Aw, do I make you nervous darlin’? Do I make your pretty little mind wander?” 

“I’m sorry, I should know better. I just-” She soon halted your words with a thumb pushed past your parted lips, hooking over your teeth, and a stern yet playful look on her face. The way she made you flustered amused her.

“I think we both know you’re not so innocent. What with the people you bring home and the way you fuck yourself like a little slut,” Wanda muttered, your head swam at the rasp of her voice and the intrusion of her words. “I bet you know how fucking perfect you look in your bedroom at night when you think you’re all alone. But mommy sees you,” she spoke, letting her breath heat up the skin of your neck. 

Your stomach flipped at what she called herself. Your heart thumped within your chest at her confession, how you were just a little toy for her amusement. 

“And you make me feel so good, doll,” she sighed, pulling your hips into hers desperately with your thigh slotting between hers. “I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you.”

Wanda’s lips pushed into yours leaving you breathless and they felt so perfect that you couldn’t even imagine pulling away. You never thought you’d get this chance, this forbidden tryst seemed out of reach and yet here she was. This older woman you’d only seen with a street between you, just feeling lucky to catch sight of her. 

Her tongue tasted citrusy sweet against yours when it licked into your mouth, pushing against your own with her hold on either side of your waist with a firm grip. Her hair was silky smooth between your fingers and you felt dizzy with the way she pushed herself over your thigh in any attempt to grasp at a semblance of friction. 

She lifted herself onto the kitchen counter and yanked you along with her, losing absolutely none of her dominance while your kisses paved their way across her jaw and the column of her throat. 

Eventually, you had to pull away from her to catch your breath but the sight was enough to not leave you disappointed; cheeks flushed pink and her eyes dark with a wanting lust.

“Are you gonna be good for me?” 

“Yes, mommy,” you uttered through panting breath. She smiled at the title, she knew it’d sound like honey dripping from your tongue, oozing with a pliable innocence she adored. 

Her nails dug into your scalp when she pulled at your hair, pushing your head downwards as she pulled her dress up her thighs that she parted for you to eye the way she was soaked and dripping, cunt bare from any underwear, and an expectant nod of her head for you to do as she wished. 

The kisses you lay onto her inner thighs were rushed with the urging of her movements, rushing you to make contact with her wetness. She tasted sweet and perfect and her clit was swollen and aching beneath your flattened tongue.  

The older woman was so worked up, she could feel the coil tightening with the suck of her bud into your lips and the tongue that lapped at her pussy; your hands held onto her thighs, pulling her into you desperately, encouraged by the choked moans coming from above you.

“Oh, fuck,” she sighed. “You’re doin’ so good, pretty girl.”

Her hips moved along with the rhythm of your tongue, fucking herself onto your face with her arousal coating your lips. The heels of her shoes dug into your back to keep your face beneath the material of her dress, nearing her release with each flick of your tongue and the vibration of your moan against her when she possessively dug her nails into your skin.

It didn’t take much more for her to cum into your mouth, letting a moan sound out into the room along with the clamping of her thighs around your skull. She leaned her head back with her eyes scrunched closed and her jaw slackened with heaving breaths at the feelings washing over her. A pleasure she’d only imagined you rewarding her with in the confines of her mind, when her thoughts would wander and she’d let herself believe her touch was yours. 

You licked the remnants of her from your mouth, gasping at the sudden crashing of her lips to yours again. She could taste herself. The way she sighed made you hungry - each appreciative noise you’d pulled from her only made you that much more desperate to please her. You’d do anything to make her feel good. 

“I shoulda known that putting your mouth to good use would be a wise decision.”

“Well, I do bring a lot of people home,” you returned, quoting her back to herself much to her amusement. “I’ve had practice.”

“I’m gonna have to train that attitude out of you, huh?” Wanda laughed, though you could see a part of her wasn’t speaking in jest. “I would so love to continue but I gotta pick the twins up from school,” she added apologetically, pecking your lips to punctuate her words. “But I sure hope we can do this again.”

[slavicafire]

Hi! I love your posts about perfumes and I was wondering how did you get so into it? You don't have to answer if you don't want to of course, but I was just curious if you can and if so, where u can learn more about perfumes and recognizing the scents, bc it's something I have big trouble with ☺️

oh! my dearest stranger! you have opened the cursed door and let out the rambling plague upon this wretched world—alas, 'tis time to yap.

there are three main components to finding yourself engrossed in the world of fragrances, or really, should I simply say, scents. the basics are just as crucial as the study of ingredients and interactions, and the sentimental and memory-related just as thrilling as simply finding something that smells nice on you and for you.

basics: develop your basic understanding of different scents. find out what you like and what you dislike, and learn to recognise how things smell. it might sound silly but it is actually a very enjoyable experiment, especially if you feel a bit lost and you're not sure how to start.

do you have a favourite smell? favourite flower or fruit or body wash, or body mist, or a cleaning product? maybe it's the smell of freshly mowed grass or a particular baked sweet? learn what it's supposed to smell of and focus on remembering and recognising that smell. seek it out, think about it, know it.

smell things a lot. I mean it: products you use, food you eat, flowers you pass on your walks. smell your books and your sun-kissed skin, smell your pets and your friends. focus on the scents that inhabit every second of your life, and you'll notice there are so so many. smell some nasty things every once in a while, too, you might discover unexpected thrills.

start a basic note exercise. choose three basic notes you find interesting, ones that are simple and recognisable, and smell them on their own - either through an extract, single note oil or perfume, or other medium. as an example, for me it was rose (beloved), vanilla (super recognisable) and sandalwood (classic). remember them, revisit them, and once you get the hang of them, seek them out in different combinations: check out some perfumes with one or more of those chosen notes, and see whether you can spot them there. see how they interact with different smells, in products and perfume and on your skin.

study: develop a stronger foundation to orient yourself in the world of fragrances. learn what ingredients there are and what processes are used to combine them. it doesn't have to be laborious or tedious, simply explore what different notes are there.

start with one of these quick lists: parfumado or fragrancex. you don't have to memorise anything, but do take your time to read through them and learn what ingredients are even used in perfume making and how and what for. if you're hungry for some more, check out the list on perfume society or wikiparfum. explore!

learn about head, heart and base olfactive notes. sylvaine delacourte has a nice explanation, or charlotte tilbury, or olfa originals. test whether you're able to notice how a chosen perfume develops and unravels on your skin: can you spot this change from head to heart, can you recognise the underlying base? it's alright if at first you absolutely can't, there are many variables there and it's not so easy at all!

find a perfume you have access to on fragrantica, and study its accords and notes. read the comments. use the perfume on yourself and see whether you can recognise the notes. maybe the perfume smells like something completely different to you? that's entirely possible and a very fun part of exploring fragrances; for example, I have a rose perfume that for me smells strongly of black olives and not much more. trust me, no shame in genuinely just reading the notes on fragrantica each time you use this perfume and trying to crack it. you don't have to know things by heart or immediately recognise many notes, that'll come with time and experience.

experience: make fragrances a part of your everyday life and explore how they shift and bloom for you. don't assume fragrances are just for special occasions every once in a blue moon or something super complicated you have to focus very hard on. make them a part of your life.

whenever you have the opportunity, try out testers in perfumeries and drug stores and any other places you spot them in. they're there to be used. ask for samples, check out online sales for some discounts, treat yourself to a discovery set. play around, widen your horizons, have fun!

once you have some samples or perfumes, try them out in different weather, different times of year and different times of day. different moods. if you're someone who menstruates, try them out during different parts of your cycle. try them out on somebody else's skin. try them after sex, or before a workout, or right before you go to sleep. see how they change.

scent-code your events. scent is the most powerful part of our memory: choose a perfume you use when you see your best friend, choose a perfume you'll use only during this trip you're going on, choose a perfume to use when going on evening walks in the summer or reading books in winter. you'll have a path paved with perfume to revisit, and you'll thank yourself for it.

but most importantly, explore and enjoy yourself: read, spray, buy or nick fragrances, ask your friends to try theirs when you visit them, and let your friends try yours. have fun and remember that it is a very personal, varied and subjective journey, and there is no wrong way to do it.

best of luck!

[sitepathos]

Since reader has been living in goodsprings for four years now, has the mold started setting up new system roots in goodsprings? Can it use reader to spread its spores? Also how did the batfamily not notice a kid for four YEARS???? IM smacking them except alfred

For the first part of your question: the mold has only set up a sort of sub-colony around your house. As stated in Chapter 6, the Megamycete wanted to set up roots around your house to defend it. Should a thief be stupid enough to try to break in your house, he’ll find his leg tangled by a black moldy root that seems determined to snap it off. You can also use your quorum sensing to see through the roots and keep an eye on things while you’re away.

The roots also keep your lawn looking great, saving you from mowing the grass or weeding.

As for the second part, you’d be surprised. For this series, there’s three reasons why they forgot about you so easily. One: you joined at the worst time possible. Jason had died not too long ago, Bruce was so wracked with grief that he threw himself into his work as Batman, and Tim’s parents died, causing him to be adopted by Bruce. With all that going on, you kinda got put on the back burner.

Two: all of them are so busy with their night lives that it bleeds into their daytime lives. They’re too chickenshit to deal with their trauma in healthy ways, so they take the coward’s way out and throw themselves into fighting crime. They get so busy that they forget to take care of themselves and if Alfred wasn’t around, they’d probably waste away.

And three, the one that hurts the most: you’re ordinary. You’re not a genius, you’re physical prowess is average at best, you don’t turn heads when you enter a room, and you don’t have any skills that stand out in a family like the Waynes. And you were raised by your Momma and had a normal, healthy life.

And when you lost her, you grieved like any other six-year-old would and eventually learned to carry on without her (although it wasn’t easy since you didn’t have the emotional support of your family). You certainly didn’t put on some stupid costume and start fist fighting clowns (come on, that’s stupid).

As much as they’d hate to admit it (especially Dick), you didn’t have anything that made them give you a passing glance; you weren’t interesting. They all come from colorful backgrounds have have skills and personalities that make people pay attention to them while you blended into the crowd.

And in a family as prestigious as the Waynes, that’s an unforgivable sin. And you were punished by being turned into the black sheep, forgotten and neglected for years.

You don’t care, your life stopped revolving around them years ago. You have the Megamycete and your dream’s come true. You’re living your best life right now and they can’t hurt you now.

But little do you know there’s a storming brewing and Gotham and it’s heading straight for you. Now that they know the error of their ways, they intend to bring you back to the fold and show you off to the world as the most important part of their family.

However, they’ll soon discover that you’re no longer that Average Joe you once were. Maybe when they see what you’ve become, they’ll finally find you “interesting.”

[roostersbby69]

Special chapter for my story “Brothers best friend”!

Summary: So I had this idea for my “Brothers best friend” storyline and just wanted to give a little extra chapter of a few moments between them.

Warnings: little bit of age gap, nothing else really

Check out the whole story!

When Jake and Bradley were fifteen, and you were eleven, they were stoked to be starting ninth grade. Jake had went over Bradley’s and if he went, so did you. The Bradshaws didn’t mind, Carol loved having you around. She kept coloring books, puzzles, a couple barbie dolls and some boxes of cake mix for you to bake when the boys were playing football or play wrestling in the living room.

Today you chose to sit at the table and color, Carol took note you were a lot quieter than Jake was. You kept to yourself and weren’t as rowdy as the boys were. You were gentle with the Barbie dolls and would gently step over a grasshopper or inch worm if you were playing outside.

You colored the princess sheet Carol placed in front of you as she sat across from you and worked on her 1000 piece puzzle. The boys were wrestling in the living room and Nick was mowing the lawn.

“That’s some great coloring skills, Y/n.” Carol smiled as she watched you color the princesses dress pink.

“Thank you, Mrs. Carol.” You smiled and kicked your feet back and forth.

“Boys! Watch my vase!” She yelled to the boys as Bradley threw Jake into a choke hold.

“Yes ma’am!” Bradley called back as he held Jake down.

“Uncle! Uncle!” Jake yelled through a fit of laughter. Bradley let go, laughing himself, and watched as Jake rolled away from him in a laughing fit.

“How’s your mom, Y/n?” Carol asked as she tried to fir a piece of puzzle into another piece.

“She’s okay, shes excited for my brother to start big school. “ You said as you continued to color. Your mom was always overjoyed with Jake’s accomplishments, sometimes she was a little too proud.

“I bet, I’m sure shes excited for you to go into the sixth grade. You must be too.”

“I guess, I am a little nervous though.”

“That’s normal. You’ll do great. You can always get the boys to help with school work.” She smiled at you. Nick walked in with grass all over his forearms and kissed his wife on the cheek.

“Hey, squirt.” He walked over to you and ruffled your hair.

“Hi, Mr. Goose.” You continued to color, you sometimes wished that your parents were like Bradley’s, but then you wouldnt be able to experience this, and you liked this.

The boys walked into the kitchen where you and Carol sat and grabbed a drink from the fridge. Bradley grabbed his and came and sat at the table by you. Jake also joined and sat by him, “What are you coloring, Y/n?” Jake asked as he cracked open the soda can. You looked up at him then at Bradley as your face reddened, “A princess.”

“Aw, looks just like Bradley.” He teased his friend, “That pink really brings out your eyes, Brad.”

Bradley rolled his eyes but a small smile sat on his lips as he watched you finish the princesses hair.

You finished and Carol smiled as she grabbed the sheet and stuck it under a magnet on their fridge. You had a smile on your face as you picked up the crayons and placed them back in the box.

“Can’t you boys learn a thing or two from Y/n and clean up after yourselves?” Carol asked as you cleaned up.

“Nah, shes pretty good at it.” Bradley laughed.

“Bradley.” Carol warned.

“I’m just kidding.” He surrendered as his dad walked in and hit him on the head with a rolled up newspaper.

—

Three years later

At the start of ninth grade you had your first boyfriend, his name was Jackson. All of the girls liked him and you should’ve been excited to have a boyfriend who was popular, but he wasn’t the best boyfriend.

He was in a grade above yours and he liked to party, a lot. He drank, vaped, and fell into the frat boys group, and that wasn’t really your kind of life.

Bradley’s parents had gotten him a small pickup truck and Jake had yet to get one from your mom. You usually rode with Jackson after school, but today you decided to break up. Since you didn’t have a cell phone, you had no way of contacting Bradley or Jake to catch a ride with them.

You walked on the sidewalk and yanked your backpack higher up on your shoulders as a truck stopped beside you and honked, you looked to your left and saw Bradleys green truck. The window rolled down and Jake and Bradley looked at you like you were a ghost.

“Y/n, what the hell are you doing walking on the side of the road? I thought you were riding with Jackson?” Jake yelled over the cars honking at them and passing by.

“Jackson doesn’t give me rides anymore.” You said.

“Get in.” Bradley called to you as Jake got out and opened the door for you to get in on the bench seat. You slid in and put your book bag in your lap as you thanked Bradley who was beside you.

“Why doesn’t Jackson give you rides anymore?” Jake asked angrily as he slammed the door shut.

“We broke up.” You said as you played with a loose string on your book bag.

“Why?” Bradley asked.

“I know why, he’s a good for nothing asshole.” Jake spoke for you.

You sat quietly as Bradley drove off once you were buckled.

“He didn’t hurt you did he?” Jake asked, still sounding angry.

“Can we please not talk about it right now?” You stared down at your lap.

“No, Y/n, you tell me now.” He grabbed your shoulder to try to get you to look at him.

“Jake! Knock it off, man.” Bradley looked at him.

“I just want to go home, please.” You whispered. Jackson had small anger issues sometimes, at parties, when he was drunk, he would get angry at you for not drinking with him and force you to drink. You hated the taste of alcohol, that wasn’t how you wanted to spend your high school years.

Once you got to Bradleys house you got out silently on Bradley’s side and he grabbed your book bag for you. “Are you okay, Y/n?” He softly asked you as he noticed your face was red.

You nodded, “Yeah, thanks.” You reached to grab the bag from him but he held it higher, “Do I need to have a talk with this, Jackson?” He raised an eyebrow and asked.

You smiled and shook your head, “No, Bradley, but thanks again.”

-

Four years later

“Have you talked to Y/n lately?” Bradleys mom asked him as she made supper.

He raised his head to look up at her from the kitchen table, “Um, no not lately. Why?”

Carol shrugged, “I don’t know, it’s not like she was over almost every day and suddenly she just disappeared.”

Bradley nodded to himself, “Well, she is a bit younger than I am.”

“So?” Carol asked.

“So…I don’t know.” Bradley couldn’t think of words.

Carol sighed, “Boys are so oblivious.”

“Oblivious to what?” He asked.

“You’ll figure it out one day.”

“Can’t you just tell me now?”

“Nope, it’ll make its way there.”

Carol always watched them two grow up together. When Bradley ran to Y/n when she fell and scraped her knee when she couldn’t keep up with him and Jake in a game of tag. When she cried when her mom was having one of her episodes, he was there to listen to her.

Carol knew bradley was always keeping an eye out for her. And she knew there would be something special for them in the future.

—————————————————————