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itneverendshere · 2 days ago

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need your confession - brother bsf! rafe

pairing: kelce's sister x hockey!rafe warnings: smut <3

part of this universe

It was the biggest game of the season so far—your university’s team against their biggest rivals.

You, however, were sitting on the bleachers, arms crossed, wrapped in your thickest winter jacket, trying to not to shiver like a little bitch, your legs pratically fusing to the metal. Next to you, Kie had a bucket of popcorn balanced on her lap, one boot casually propped against the row in front of you like she wasn’t on the verge of hypothermia too.

“Tell me again why we’re here when we could be literally anywhere else?” she asked, tossing a kernel into her mouth.

You exhaled sharply, your breath visible in the freezing air, eyes locked on the opposing team’s bench. “Kelce.”

You’d never missed a game in your life, the stupid sport had somehow made it’s way into your heart. It was practically coded into your DNA after a lifetime of being dragged to them, of screaming at refs, of celebrating wins and mourning losses. Although today you were more than tempted to do so, but you came, just to prove—to no one in particular—that you weren’t a coward.

Out there, somewhere in that sea of helmets and shoulder pads, was your biggest one-night-stand mistake. You were less than excited to see him skate across the ice.

Kie followed your gaze, pausing mid-chew. “Oh. Oh.” She swallowed. “You didn’t tell me he was on their team.”

“Because I was trying to block it out,” you muttered through gritted teeth.

There he was, stretching like he was God’s gift to hockey, that same smug smirk on his face that made you want to throw up in your mouth a little. The same guy you made the mistake of hooking up with last summer, back when you were blissfully unaware he was a complete waste of oxygen. Before you knew he played rough on and off the ice, throwing cheap shots at your brother, running his mouth, and generally acting like a walking red flag with skates.

“You have the worst taste in men,” Kie whispered dramatically, shaking her head.

“I was young and dumb,” you defended. “And drunk. Mostly drunk.”

“Still. You hooked up with a guy Kelce would literally throw himself into a fire to destroy. I’m surprised the universe hasn’t imploded.”

You groaned, sinking deeper into your jacket.

Five minutes later you were gripping the railing, heart thudding as the teams lined up for the puck drop. The second your brother skated out, you tensed. Because you knew that motherfucker was going to say something.

And sure enough, after the first few plays, you saw him slide up beside Kelce during a pause in the game. His head tilted, mouth moving. Oh fuck no.

Kelce straightened up, grip tightening on his stick.

“Oh, shit,” Kie muttered, leaning forward. “Is he—?”

You braced yourself, waiting for your brother to lose it—waiting for him to drop his gloves and snap.

But before he could react, Rafe did.

One second, your brother looked ready to commit a felony, and the next, Rafe skated between them, shoving your biggest mistake back with his stick. Not hard, but enough to make a point. Enough to say, not fucking happening.

You blinked.

“What the fuck?” Kie breathed. “Did he just—?”

“Shut up, I’m trying to understand it too.”

Your brother shot Rafe a look, something between confused and annoyed, but Rafe ignored it, leaning in to say something low enough that even the refs weren’t paying attention. You couldn’t see his face, but whatever he said made the other guy’s smirk falter.

That did things to you.

The second the puck dropped, Rafe dropped him.

You hardly saw it happen. One moment, your biggest mistake was skating forward, and the next—bam. Rafe’s fist connected with his face so fast you almost missed it.

Kie sucked in a breath beside you. “Shit.”

You shot up from your seat, eyes still wide, watching as the guy hit the ice like a sack of bricks. Flat on his back, motionless for a second, before he started to stir.

Rafe just stood over him, still gripping the front of his jersey, still looking for a reason to throw another punch. His helmet was tilted back slightly, visor pushed up just enough to reveal that look—that look—the one that usually meant someone was about to get their ass beat.

The refs were already swarming, whistles blaring, but Rafe wasn’t moving.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you hissed, gripping the railing.

Kie was still frozen. “That was—wow. That was—”

“Unhinged?”

“Hot,” she finished.

You whipped your head toward her. “What?”

She raised her hands. “Unhinged, sure, but also—”

You groaned, eyes snapping back to the ice just in time to see the refs finally pry Rafe off the guy, shoving him toward the penalty box. He went willingly, shaking his hand out like his knuckles didn’t ache from the impact, that same fucking smirk plastered on his face as he skated off.

Then, because he was an asshole, he looked right at you. Through the glass, through the crowd—right into your fucking soul.

And winked.

You felt your entire body heat up, which pissed you off because fuck Rafe Cameron. Fuck his stupid protective streak. Fuck his broad shoulders and that stupid confident smirk and— You were sitting way too fucking close to the penalty box.

Close enough that when he stepped inside, he barely had to turn his head to see you.

You were still gripping the railing, eyes narrowed.

Rafe sat down, leaned back, then tipped his head toward you—he was expecting a thank-you.

You scowled. “Are you insane?”

It didn’t even matter that Rafe Cameron was built like a linebacker or that he had at least five inches on you. You were prepared to climb his ass like a tree just to wring his stupid, smug neck.

He smirked, rolling his shoulders like knocking someone out was just another Tuesday for him.

“I mean, I’ve been told,” he said, voice muffled through the glass, “but you're welcome, princess.”

Your mouth actually dropped open.

Kie choked on a laugh beside you.

“You—you think I’m gonna thank you?” you seethed, standing up so fast the people behind you flinched in their seats. “You just got benched for ten minutes.”

Rafe shrugged, running a hand over his chin like he wasn’t even listening to you. “Worth it.”

You nearly groaned at how good he looked with his helmet off, cheeks flushed from the cold, blue eyes sharper than usual.

“You can’t do that.

“Can’t protect my girlfriend’s reputation?”

“Stop calling me that,” you hissed, wishing there wasn’t a glass stopping you from punching his face.

“What? I thought we were still doin' that.”

“We were never doing that.”

“We definitely were,” he countered, tilting his head. “Y'were all over me last week, princess.”

“Stop it.”

“Habit,” he said, so fucking nonchalant.

“Drop it.”

“Can’t.” He grinned, giddy, like this was his favorite thing in the world. “Kinda like it.”

Your eye twitched.

You exhaled sharply, pressing your fingers to your temples. “You are so—”

“Charming? Handsome? Heroic?”

Kie wheezed.

“You volunteered to be my fake boyfriend.”

Okay so you were lying through your teeth now.

“You begged,” he corrected, like the little shit he was. “Practically threw yourself at me.”

Kie was actually crying.

You clenched your jaw so tight your teeth hurt. “I asked you one time to pretend to be my boyfriend because some guy wouldn’t take a hint.”

“And I did an amazing job,” Rafe said, nodding like he deserved a fucking trophy.

“You got into a pissing contest with him,” you deadpanned.

His grin widened. “And he backed off, didn’t he?”

You made a sound so aggressive that Kie clamped a hand over her mouth.

Kie nudged you. “You’re staring.”

“I’m glaring,” you corrected.

You made a deeply frustrated noise, something that probably wasn’t human, something that just encouraged him further. Rafe looked so fucking smug, he knew exactly what he was doing to you, like he thrived off it.

The ref skated over then, tapping the glass with the butt of his stick. “Cameron, quit flirting and focus.”

“Yes, sir,” he said, tapping his stick against the glass once before turning back to the ice, still grinning.

You slumped into your seat, suddenly exhausted.

“So, when’s the wedding?”

Later, at the victory party, you were still ignoring him, not that it was stopping him.

Rafe had been glued to your side all night, trailing after you like a fucking golden retriever, hands always on you—guiding you through the crowd, resting on your waist, fingers slipping under the hem of your jacket just because he could.

And you—you were trying so fucking hard to stay mad. To hold onto your annoyance, to remind yourself that you didn’t ask him to knock a guy out in front of thousands of people just because he ran his mouth.

But he was making it impossible. Especially now, when he slid up behind you, arms sneaking around your waist, voice warm against your ear. “Still mad at me, girlfriend?”

You stiffened, but he just laughed, squeezing your sides before you could pull away. “Thought you’d be a little more appreciative. Y’know, considering I defended your honor.”

You turned in his arms, narrowing your eyes. “We are not together.”

His hands slid lower, settling on your hips, fingers pressing just enough to make you shiver. “Mhm. Keep telling yourself that.”

Fuck, he was so fine, disgustingly fine. The kind of fine that made you want to throw something at him just so you wouldn’t have to deal with the fact that your body loved being near his.

You scowled.

Rafe just smiled. “Y’look real pretty tonight, by the way.”

You rolled your eyes so hard you damn near saw your past life. “Shut up.”

Rafe just grinned, fingers flexing against your hips like he had any fucking right. You smacked his hands, stepping back, but he just reeled you back in like a fish caught on his line.

“You are so annoying,” you hissed, trying to peel his hands off you like they were stuck with super glue. “Let me go.”

“Nah,” Rafe said, cocky as ever, grip tightening just to piss you off. “I kinda like it here.”

You made an indignant noise, smacking his chest this time, but that only made him chuckle. You wanted to scream, maybe—kiss him a little, which was exactly why you needed to stay the fuck away.

Some girl passing by stopped, looking between you two with a dreamy little smile. “Oh my God, you guys are so cute together.”

Rafe beamed, like he’d just won a fucking award. “Right?”

“No,” you snapped, shoving at his arms. “Don’t encourage him.”

The girl just giggled and walked off, and you were left fuming while Rafe watched, amused.

“You’re still enjoying this way too much,” you accused, crossing your arms.

“‘Cause it’s fun, princess,” he teased, hands still resting on your waist, like they fucking belonged there. “Y’get all riled up. It’s cute.”

Your throat hurt in a way that had you wanting to actually fight God.

“I’m about to get real uncute if you don’t back up.”

Rafe smirked, ducking his head like he had a secret to tell. “You sure?” His voice was low, sweet like he thought he could charm you.

You shoved at his chest hard, and he finally let go, but not without laughing to himself like this whole thing was so fucking funny.

“Go bother someone else, Rafe.”

“But you’re my favorite,” he shot back way too fast, and you hated that your stomach flipped like a damn pancake.

Your jaw dropped. You smacked his arm so fast he actually flinched.

“Don’t start,” you warned, but Rafe lived to start shit.

“Not my fault you like it,” he muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your eyes narrowed into dangerous little slits. “I don’t like it.”

Rafe just raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Mhm.”

You scowled, about to curse him out properly, but before you could, his fingers brushed your waist again—light, teasing, just enough to make your breath hitch.

You slapped his hand away so fast it echoed.

“Stop.”

Rafe grinned, like your suffering was his favorite form of entertainment.

“What? ‘S not my fault you’re so touchable.”

You gasped, actually gasped, because what the fuck kind of line—

“If you don’t stop this shit—”

“What?” He leaned in, voice low, too close, like he wanted you to feel the words. “You gonna hit me? Y’know I like it rough.”

You nearly malfunctioned, body glitching, brain buffering, eyes blinking at him like he had lost his goddamn mind.

“Don’t—” You inhaled so sharply your lungs burned. “Don’t ever say that shit to me again.”

Before you could even form a proper death threat, his hand curled around your wrist, just enough to stop you. To still you.

Jesus Christ, his hands were warm.

Big and solid and warm, even in this freezing-ass party house, even with the cheap beer and half-melted ice lining the countertops. His fingers pressed lightly into the inside of your wrist, just above where your pulse was doing its best impression of a goddamn hockey buzzer.

His other hand found your waist again.

Your breath hitched and you hated that he noticed.

“Knew you liked me, princess.”

“You’re delusional,” you snapped, jerking your hand back, but he just tsked, his grip firm but easy, he knew you weren’t actually trying.

He pulled you closer. Just an inch, enough to make you feel him.

His voice dropped lower. “Y’know,” he murmured, lips just brushing your ear, “You sure let me touch you a lot.”

Your spine snapped straight.

“I don’t,” you gritted out.

His fingers flexed on your waist. “No?”

“No.”

“Then stop me.”

Oh, you wanted to, you should have.

But you hesitated for just a second too long, because he was too close. Too solid. Too much of everything you swore you didn’t want, but now, right now, standing in the middle of a party where nothing else existed but him—

You didn’t move.

And Rafe knew it.

His smirk turned slow, lazy, and then—oh, you bastard—he tipped his chin down, catching your gaze with his like he dared you to look away.

You couldn’t.

Your pulse was a war drum against your ribs, your breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a growl, because he was going to do it.

He was going to—

His lips came down against yours, no hesitation. No teasing. He’d been waiting for this, he knew you had, too.

You didn’t have time to process before his tongue swept past your lips, and—fuck—your knees almost buckled.

Because Rafe Cameron kissed like he did everything else.

His fingers tightened on your waist, pulling you flush against him, this wasn’t enough. His other hand cradled the side of your face, tilting your head up so he could kiss you deeper, pressing and taking like he already knew you’d let him. He knew exactly where to touch, how to hold you so you wouldn’t dare pull away.

Then— oh —his tongue swiped against your bottom lip, slow, before slipping past, deepening the kiss like he was starving for it.

Your whole body reacted.

It shot straight down your spine, pooling low in your stomach, Rafe wasn’t giving you a second to think—his lips moved against yours in that filthy rhythm, his tongue teasing, stroking against yours, coaxing a sound from your throat that you hadn’t meant to make.

That did something to him.

His hands tightened, one splaying across the small of your back, pressing you flush against him, the other sliding up to your neck, angling your head just how he wanted—deeper, messier.

And, God help you, you let him.

Because fuck, he kissed so good.

Rafe groaned into your mouth, the sound needy. His teeth scraped lightly against your bottom lip, biting just enough to make you gasp, and he took advantage—kissing you deeper, he wanted that little sound, he’d do whatever it took to pull more from you.

His fingers sliding down—tracing the curve of your ribs, teasing the edge of your top like he was thinking about pulling it off right here.

Then he changed the rhythm, slowing down, torturously. His tongue tangled with yours in a slow tease; he wanted to make you feel every second of it, he knew exactly what he was doing to you.

He kissed like he was made for it.

Rafe tilted his head, lips dragging along your jaw, down to your neck, where he bit, hard enough to make your breath hitch.

“Knew you'd let me.”

Your chest heaved, your whole body felt wrecked, and he hadn’t even really touched you yet. You should have slapped him, pushed him away.

Instead, you wanted more.

So you rose onto your tiptoes, pressing your chest against his, searching for friction—and shit, Rafe felt it. His entire body shuddered, his breath stuttering as he realized—no bra. Just you, warm, your nipples pebbled from the cold, pressing right against his chest through your flimsy top.

Rafe groaned into your mouth—wrecked. His grip on your waist nearly dropped for the shock.

Your hands slid up, nails scraping hard against the back of his neck, tangling in his hair, tugging—and fuck, that sent him feral.

He swallowed your gasp, mouth slanting over yours, tongue slipping inside—hot and wet. His tongue teased, then took, deep and demanding, like he owned you.

He pulled back just enough to spit—hot and slick—right into your tongue, eyes burning as he murmured, “Take it.”

And you did, you fucking did.

Because you were gone—ruined—nothing but the overwhelming need to feel him everywhere.

Rafe groaned, like he couldn’t believe you just let him do that, then devoured you again, tongue licking into your mouth like he wanted to live there.

His hands wandered, slipping under your top, tracing up your bare sides, thumbs barely brushing the underside of your tits—so close but not enough, teasing just to drive himself insane.

“Fuck,” he breathed against your lips, voice ragged. His forehead pressed against yours, hands still gripping you tight,. “Gonna be the fuckin' death of me.”

And God help you, you wanted to finish the job in the middle of this hallway.

His forehead was still pressed to yours, his breaths coming hot against your spit-slick lips.

You were so close, your chests heaving together, and just to be a brat, you rolled your hips just a little.

Rafe let out a guttural groan, his hands flying down to grab your ass, yanking you against him so hard you swore you felt his pulse everywhere.

“Jesus fuckin' Christ,” he groaned, mouth dropping open against your throat.

His forehead pressed to your shoulder, his entire body shuddering as his thumbs finally, finally swiped over your nipples, dragging over the soft, sensitive skin.

“You tryin' to make me lose my shit?”

“Maybe.”

Rafe moved, backing you up until your spine hit the wall, one knee pushing between your legs, parting them like he had every fucking right.

His tongue was relentless, fucking into your mouth in deep, filthy strokes, like he wanted you to choke on it, wanted you messy. His spit dribbled from the corner of your lips as you kissed him back just as desperately.

Your nails dug into his broad shoulders, hard enough to leave marks, and fuck, Rafe loved it. He groaned into your mouth, hips grinding against yours, chasing the friction like a man starved.

“Y'like teasing me, huh?” he panted, dragging his mouth down your jaw, nipping at your pulse, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. His voice was strained. "Makin' me wanna fuck you stupid?”

You whimpered.

That was all he needed.

His hands yanked your hips closer, grinding you against his thigh, right there, and fuck, you felt everything—felt how hard he was, how badly he wanted you.

You wanted him just as bad.

“Rafe—” you gasped, head tilting back against the wall, body burning.

He grinned against your throat, smug and dark. “There’s my girl.”

You whined, nails scraping against the back of his neck, and Rafe swore.

“Gonna fuckin' kill me,” he growled, his teeth nipping at your collarbone, his hands now fully cupping your tits, squeezing like he needed to feel every inch of you.

Your hips rocked against him, your body completely shameless, seeking out every bit of friction you could get. The slick between your thighs was unbearable, and his thigh between your legs was making it so much worse.

“Fuck, Rafe,” you groaned, and that did it. That fucking did it.

His hand snapped to your jaw, forcing your head back so he could drown you in another filthy kiss. His tongue pushed into your mouth, dominating, possessive, his spit mixing with yours until it was dripping down your chin.

He loved it—loved you like this, breathless, wrecked, nails digging into his back, chest pressing flush against his like you were trying to fuse your body to his.

Rafe wasn’t even thinking anymore, his hips rutted against yours, his hands gripping your ass like he wanted to leave bruises, like he needed you to feel him tomorrow.

He broke the kiss, just enough to look at you, and fuck, he’d never seen anything hotter—lips swollen, spit everywhere, your breath all shaky and uneven.

“Look at you,” he rasped, his forehead pressing against yours, his fingers slipping lower, teasing. “So fuckin’ pretty.”

His thigh flexed between your legs, and you gasped, body jolting, the friction was too good, too much, and Rafe fucking felt it. His smirk was nothing short of wicked as he did it again, pressing you harder against the wall, grinding his leg up into you.

“That feel good, baby?”

You could barely get the word out. “Y-Yeah.”

“Yeah?” He kissed you again, this time slower, his tongue licking into your mouth in long, lazy strokes, he had all the time in the world to ruin you. One of his hands slid up, fingers wrapping around your throat—not squeezing, just resting there, holding you in place.

Your pulse hammered against his palm. Rafe felt it. He fucking loved it.

“So fucking needy,” he murmured, his thumb tracing over your jaw, his other hand still gripping your waist, still rocking you against his thigh. His knee nudged up higher, pressing right where you needed him most, and your fingers tightened in his shirt.

“Rafe—”

He grinned against your lips. “That’s it, baby.”

Your brain was dead, but somewhere in the mess of it all, one clear thought hit you—

Of course he was the type of guy to talk you through it.

Of course, Rafe fucking Cameron would be the kind of guy who couldn’t just let you fall apart on your own. No, he had to be right there, dragging you through it, forcing you to hear every filthy, possessive word dripping from his lips.

The pressure between your legs was building, tight in your tummy, and you didn’t care that you were still in a fucking hallway, that anyone could walk by. You were too lost in him.

Rafe must’ve seen it on your face because his smirk faded. His fingers tightened just a little around your throat, his thigh flexing again, and fuck—

You whimpered, your hips rolling against him, chasing more, more, more.

Rafe groaned, his forehead pressing to yours, his lips brushing yours as he panted.

“God, fuckin' love you like this,” he muttered.

Just to wreck you further, he tilted your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his, his blue eyes dark.

“You’re shakin',” His tone was smug, satisfied, “You gonna cum for me, princess?” His voice was pure sin. “Just like this?”

You gasped, pleasure sparking like electricity through your veins, and Rafe smirked—because he already knew the answer.

His grip on your throat tightened, not enough to hurt, just enough to make your breath hitch, to make you dizzy with it.

“Fuck, you’re close, aren’t ya?” he murmured, voice rough, teasing, eating up the way you moaned against his mouth. “So fuckin' desperate for me you’re about to come like this—rubbin' yourself on my thigh like a needy little thing.”

You should’ve been embarrassed, should’ve cared that you were still standing in a fucking hallway, grinding against him like you’d lost every ounce of dignity.

“Tell me, princess,” he growled, his thigh flexing between your legs, making you bite your lip. “Did that motherfucker ever make y'feel like this?”

You didn’t regist the words at first, but then you realized Rafe wasn’t just asking—he needed to hear it.

Your breath hitched, nails digging into his shoulders. “No,” you gasped, shaking your head. “Never—fuck—never like this.”

That was all he needed.

His grip tightened, his hands sliding down to grab your ass, dragging you against him harder, rougher, making you moan into his mouth.

“Didn’t fuckin' think so,” he muttered, his teeth grazing your jaw, “That’s my pretty girl,” he coaxed, his lips still dragging down your throat.

Your body tensed, thights closing around his.You gasped, back arching against the wall, fingers pulling at his shirt.

Your breath came in desperate, uneven gasps.

He couldn’t just let you have it.

No, Rafe fucking Cameron had to drag it out—had to make sure you felt every last second of it, had to talk you through it like he got off on watching you break.

“That’s it, baby,” he rasped, his grip on your hips bruising as he forced you to keep moving against him, his thigh flexing up to meet you with every devastating grind. “Don’t fucking stop now.”

You whimpered, your entire body on the verge of collapse, pleasure building so deep that it almost hurt.

His fingers slipped under your jaw, tilting your face up, forcing you to look at him, to see the way his blue eyes were blown with want.

“That’s it,” he murmured as a wrecked sound ripped from your throat, your body arching against his, because fuck, fuck, fuck—you were still right there.

Your breath hitched, your legs trembled, your mind blanking.

“Oh, fuck—” he groaned, feeling you shake apart in his hands, eating gup every twitch, every little gasp. His lips pressing against your cheek, murmuring filthy, wrecked praises against your skin.

“That’s my girl,” he muttered, his voice thick with pride, “Look at you.”

Your body was still buzzing, your breath coming in uneven gasps, your legs shaking where they were wrapped around Rafe’s waist. His forehead still pressed against yours when your phone rang.

The shrill sound cut through the post orgasm haze in your brain like a bucket of freezing water to the face, bringing you to the absolute insanity of what had just happened.

Oh, fuck.

Rafe groaned, annoyed, pressing his lips to yours again, not ready to let you go. “Ignore it,” he muttered, “They’ll call back.”

But then you saw the name on the screen.

Kie.

Your stomach dropped.

“Shit,” you whispered, your hands immediately shoving at Rafe’s shoulders, wiggling out of his grip. He hesitated for half a second before letting you down, his brows furrowing at how suddenly you pulled away.

Your legs barely worked, body was still tingling from the way he had just ruined you, but you forced yourself to stumble back, pressing the phone to your ear.

“Kie?”

“Thank God,” her voice came rushed, stressed. “It’s—fuck, it’s Liv. She got rookied.”

Rookied.

You knew what that meant. Some asshole upperclassmen had put her through some fucked-up hazing bullshit, and now she was probably wasted, crying, or worse.

“I’m coming,” you said instantly, already running a hand through your hair, trying to make yourself look less like you’d just been getting wrecked in a hallway.

Rafe was watching you.

You could feel his eyes on you, his body still so close, his hands still flexing at his sides like he wanted to grab you, pull you back in.

But you couldn’t think about that.

Holy shit.

Your childhood friend, your brother’s best friend, the guy you had a crush on when you were twelve.

You had just grinded on Rafe Cameron like a desperate whore and fucking came on his thigh in the middle of a goddamn hallway.

You felt your face go hot, embarrassment sinking in like a slow-moving poison, drowning out the last bit of euphoria still clinging to your skin.

Rafe stepped closer, his brows drawing together, picking up on your demeanor.

“You okay?” His voice was still rough, breathless.

You swallowed hard, shoving your phone into your pocket. “I—I have to go.”

His frown deepened. “What? Now?”

You nodded, your hands shaking as you avoided his eyes, you couldn’t look at him.

“I have to take Liv home,” you rushed out, already stepping away, trying to put distance between you and the biggest mistake of your life.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “Need help?”

His voice was genuine, and for some reason, that made your stomach twist even more.

“No,” you said shaking your head. “I—I got it.”

His eyes searched yours, you knew exactly what he was looking for—regret.

You didn’t say another word. You just turned and walked away, ignoring the way your legs still trembled, ignoring the way your lips still tingled from his kiss, ignoring the way your heart slammed against your ribs because holy shit, what the fuck did you just do?

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copper-16 · 1 day ago

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Reminds Me That There's A Room To Grow Part 2

A love unraveled and yet incomparable. Where are two people to go from here?

(a/n: Here is part 2! I am so glad everyone is enjoying this so far, I've had a lot of fun writing it and getting to be creative! I’ll see everyone next Monday for installment 3 - can’t wait to hear everyone’s thoughts!)

Alexia wasn’t sure exactly what she had expected when she barged into her Mami's house the morning after seeing you at the event, dragging Alba behind her.

But it definitely wasn’t this.

She had explained everything to the two of them, with a carefully constructed amount of excitement. The footballer didn’t want to seem overeager, but she also found elation building within herself the more she thought about what had occurred.

She had never expected to see you again, but there you were. Not only that, you weren’t with anyone. You still had the capacity to love her. There was a chance that Alexia hadn’t lost you, and she held onto that hope like a fire lit deep within her chest. She was almost delirious with relief at the realization that maybe the last nine years hadn’t been a total waste, that maybe she had just been waiting for you to return. It threatened to consume her, and she felt as though nothing could break the jouissance that filled her.

At least, that was what she thought, until Eli and Alba brought her back to reality with their contradicting opinions.

“She’s here you guys, she’s here in Barcelona. After all these years, Flori is still here and she wants to see me,” Alexia told her family, a brightness in her eyes that hadn’t been present in years. Despite this, Eli and Alba both had a frown on their face as they glanced at each other with skepticism. There was an awkward pause before Alba finally turned toward her sister with a charged look.

“Ale,” Alba started lightly, trying not to sound too negative. “It has been nine years. Is it possible that Flori has moved on? She was the one who stayed behind, after all.”

Her younger sister's words were pointed if not entirely incorrect.

“Do you even know what happened? You never got an answer from her, and now she has shown up at this event with absolutely no warning,” Eli continued, a point that Alba quickly found herself agreeing with.

When they had all left Madrid, Eli and Alba never expected to lose you so suddenly.

Where Alexia was upset, they were angry. Angry that you had hurt Alexia for no logical reason, angry that you had done it when Alexia was at her most vulnerable, angry that you were no longer there. They had trusted you with Alexia’s heart, and you had betrayed them. Forgiveness was not possible in their eyes, not after what had occurred.

Eli missed your mother, who had grown to become a dear friend. Alba had lost your younger brothers, Adan and Leo, who she had been close with. The breakup had been a clean break in the literal sense, but emotionally it had been so much more complex than that. There was nothing but frustrating feelings and a wretched sense of loss for all of them. Where Alexia had softened over time, becoming more sympathetic, the rest of her family had hardened in their negative feelings toward you.

It was valiant if not feeble that the footballer tried to argue on your behalf.

“She is here now, and time has passed. Why would I not at least give her the chance to atone or explain herself?” Alexia argued as she furrowed her brows. She looked between her sister and Mami, feeling disheartened by their reaction.

“She gave up that right years ago Ale, when she let you leave in the midst of Papi dying and you moving to go to your dream club. She let you go, she never reached out, she never explained herself. Does that not bother you?” Alba pressed, unyielding in her temperament.

“It has been a decade practically, and she never tried. She let you go, ripped up your heart into pieces, and walked out of that door with no remorse. We were all hurt by it, but you should be the most betrayed! She was supposed to love you, and she left you instead. Don’t tell me that hasn’t been the thing that stuck out to you the most in the past nine years?” Alba continued as her words lashed out like a whip, threatening to send Alexia’s sense of stability and hope crashing to the ground.

“I have a chance to be happy, and you want me to give it away! Does that not bother you?” Alexia spat back as her defensiveness mounted. She stared her sister down with an intensity that usually was only found when she was playing football, not speaking to a member of her family.

“No, what you have is a chance to be hurt again, and based on past events, that is exactly what is going to happen Alexia. Don’t be stupid,” Alba shot back, and Eli quickly placed a hand on her younger daughter's arm to stop her.

The room came to a hard stop, but the brunette’s heart beat too fast in her chest to notice.

Had she made a mistake in trying to be forgiving toward you?

What if her family had a point?

“Alba is critical but what she says is in your best interest Alexia. Regardless of how you felt about your relationship, Flori hurt you irreparably. Are you sure you want to let her in again? Is that a risk you want to take?” Eli inquired gently, her voice much softer than the loud argument of her daughters. Alexia took a deep breath, forcing herself to be calm outwardly even if she felt anything but on the inside.

You had hurt her a lot. And they said it was irreparable, but the brunette was beginning to wonder if only you could be the one to soothe the ache. It had been nine years, and she had never once come close to feeling the same way about anyone else as you.

But you had hurt her.

Her mother and sister were not wrong in their basis of judgment. Alexia was beginning to wonder if she had been too naive, too focused on not looking a gift horse in the mouth to see the points her family had laid out.

The Catalan wondered if you would explain yourself fully to her if asked. She hoped dearly that the answer would be yes, but maybe she didn’t know you as well as she thought she did.

Maybe it was stupid to trust you after all these years. As much as Alexia had wanted to be mad about everything, she could never bring herself to fault you for what happened when you were both eighteen years old. She had always just assumed that the reason had to be big for you to make the choice you had.

But maybe it wasn’t like that at all. Maybe she had just been too trusting, too loving.

“I…I’ve spent the last nine years thinking about her, loving her, whether I wanted to or not. I know you aren’t as trusting as I am, and maybe I shouldn’t be so hopeful. But I at least want to know what happened to us that led to her making the decision she did. I need that, at the very least,” Alexia decided as her mother and sister nodded wearily.

Alexia had always taken the blame for what had happened, even if it had been a subconscious realization. She had simply assumed that whatever it was had been her fault. The brunette must have done something for you to make such a drastic choice not to be with her after so long together.

Eli and Alba’s arguments rang in her head, creating a commotion in her mind of conflicting information. Perhaps it wasn’t her fault, but rather something on your end.

She wasn’t sure now.

All that the footballer knew was that by the time she left her Mami’s house, she felt a lot more lost than she had last night. Lost, confused, and drained of any excitement that had been present just an hour previously.

—

You had woken up the morning after the event in a trance, unable to place your own feelings.

Had last night really happened?

Your dress was still on the hanger, just as you had placed it last night. The ghosting of mascara under your eyes left proof of your makeup, proof of the tears you had shed on the walk home.

All of these years later, and there she was. Somehow just as perfect and illustrious as you had remembered her to be. Nine years on and she remained unchanged, unyielding despite her newfound fame.

You had changed a lot in those nine years. And truth be told, you thought often of the footballer, though you tried impossibly hard not to. After all, it had been you who had left. It had been your own choice to sever everything the two of you had.

You had your reasons, sure, but it had still been you. The choice for you to make decisions in your relationship with Alexia had been revoked in that instance, and you forced yourself to try and forget all that you had lost.

To try and forget the feeling of being held in her arms. To forget the way she curled around you as you slept, or crawled into your lap to take a nap after a long day of training. To forget how much you two laughed together, how exceedingly happy she had made you.

You had lost all of that, and there was nothing that changed that fact.

It was ostensibly clear why you had moved to Barcelona five years ago, even if you vehemently denied that the move was because of the Catalan you once called home. But her dream had been yours as well, and even if you were later, you still had to come.

You found yourself in the stands of her games often, tucked in the back with a hat pulled over your head, avoiding her gaze and that of her family as well. You probably shouldn’t have been there, but you had turned into quite the masochist in the wake of losing her.

She looked free on the field, exactly as you remembered her. Focused, ardent, driven, mirthful, intelligent, protective.

Everything you had loved and lost.

It’s not that there hadn’t been opportunities to see her again, especially when you had first moved and you both were young. But you never took them, knowing that it wasn’t your right. Alexia was happy, and you would never interrupt her peace for your own yearning.

After last night though…you weren’t sure if the word you would describe her as was peaceful. It was possible you were reading too much into things, but there was an air of longing present in the brunette that confused you more than you expected.

You wondered if she would call you, but you had no way of knowing.

It needed to be that way. This needed to be her choice, her decision. You had been the one to take it away, and you gave it back to her almost a decade later.

There was hope in your body, a nascent festering that took root no matter how hard you attempted to stop it in its tracks. But at the end of the day, you would gladly give back to her the right to choose in favor of everything you dreamed and desired.

You would make peace with whatever decision that was, no matter the cost to your own happiness.

—

“You–I’m sorry, you what?” Jenni blurted out as she glimpsed over at Mariona, who found herself just as confused and taken aback by what the brunette had just described.

Alexia leaned back in her chair as she let out a forced breath. Her participation in this lunch was more compulsory than anything else after an entire practice of her “acting weird,” according to the striker.

Mariona had been dragged along for a second opinion, though the midfielder had found herself growing more and more curious as Jenni’s pestering turned into real answers from the brunette. The raven-haired woman, while annoying at times, had been friends with Alexia for long enough to know when she needed a bit of a push to talk.

For Alexia to admit that the reason she was bothered was because she had a long lost childhood lover was not exactly what Jenni was expecting. But the striker was nothing if not able to work with what she was given.

“Let me get this straight,” the older woman began as she leaned forward against the table. “You met when you guys were like five, grew up together, started dating when you were teenagers, then were supposed to move here together, but she broke things off suddenly right before you left and you haven’t seen her since?”

“That is correct,” Alexia conceded warily, well aware of how slightly ridiculous it seemed as a story.

“And all of these years, you haven’t stopped thinking about her? A decade later and you’re still hung up on her?” Jenni asked incredulously, her voice nearly an octave higher than it usually was. She seemed to be out of her mind at the thought, and the brunette slunk down further into her chair, feeling overly barren.

“You hook up with women like there is a prize for who gets the highest body count,” Alexia shot back, trying to come off as more annoyed than exposed.

Mariona looked miffed at the vulgarity of the statement while Jenni shrugged, acquiescence in her expression.

“Low blow Alexia,” the midfielder noted briefly, but the striker waved her off easily.

“The woman isn’t entirely wrong, but more importantly she’s deflecting. Okay, so you’re still in love with the woman. And it just so happens that she’s randomly at the Spotify event they sent you to, and she’s still in love with you as well?”

“Well not quite but…” Alexia started to disagree before she trailed off, her friends eyeing her with unconvinced expressions.

“Yes, fine, sure,” she amended crossly.

“She just happened to be at the same event? What does she do for work?” Mariona raised her eyebrow, suspicious of a coincidence that large. Alexia paused for a moment as she struggled to think of an answer. All she was drawing was a big blank, and the realization that maybe she should have been more suspicious about this whole thing.

“I…I have no idea. I didn’t ask! She was just right in front of me, and I panicked, I didn’t know what to do!” Alexia said restlessly, the amount of fidgeting in her seat a clear indication of her nervousness.

“Wow…she made the great Alexia Putellas panic? I’ve seen you send away more girls than a persnickety Playboy photographer.”

“Jennifer!”

“Sorry, sorry! Anywho, you panicked, and then what happened?” Jenni amended, a saccharine smile plastered on her face. The raven-haired woman was absolutely devouring this, fighting valiantly not to smile like the cheshire cat.

“And then we went on a walk and talked for a few minutes, she gave me her number and told me to call her, and she left,” Alexia finished lamely, sinking back into her seat. She surveyed her two friends, who only looked at her with interested expressions.

“Okay…and what are you going to do?” Mariona inquired once she realized that Alexia wasn’t going to say anything more.

“I don’t know what to do! My family thinks that I shouldn’t call her, that she has hurt me too much. That maybe she doesn’t deserve to be in my life anymore. What do you guys think I should do?” Alexia.

“Listen, it seems to be a weird coincidence to me personally. All of the sudden you start to get famous and she just happens to pop up? That is a little weird to me. It sounds like this person hurt you deeply Ale, and it has stuck with you. Are you sure you want to rehash everything?” Mariona pressed, her words strict and condemning.

“I’m not sure if I do. I’ve spent the last decade thinking of her, and then suddenly she was there and I just…I didn’t know what to do with myself. I never imagined her being in my life again, and there she was! I spent my whole childhood loving her. I never saw myself with anyone else,” Alexia admitted quietly as she wrung her hands together for a moment before setting them down in her lap, unable to make her own mind up.

The vast majority of Alexia’s teammates had never heard of you at all. Jenni was a little too old, Mariona a little too young. Those who had known of you had forgotten, easily deterred by Alexia telling them you had broken up, unrealizing of how much it meant for the midfielder to lose you.

Mariona had begun to speak again, but the striker had tuned the two of them out, thinking quietly to herself for once.

As much as she teased, Jenni watched her friend with a keen, knowing eye. There had to be a damn good reason for Alexia to turn away all of those girls. It wasn’t just their looks, some of them were lovely and intelligent and hilarious, and still the star midfielder had absolutely no interest in them whatsoever.

Almost as if she was waiting for something else.

Someone else.

All these years there had been something missing in her, as though she looked for someone who never came through the door. Jenni had never known what was wrong enough to ask, but now she was beginning to piece together the importance of you to Alexia. Where everyone else saw reasons to criticize and judge, the striker was stuck on Alexia’s words.

How the desire and longing seemed unable to be contained and reasoned with, despite all of the evidence to the contrary.

“What do you want?” Jenni cut both of them off suddenly, eliciting a frustrated noise from Mariona and a surprised look from the brunette.

“I don’t know what I want!” Alexia huffed out with frustration, but the raven-haired didn’t accept that quite so easily. There were too many hands in the pot here. Alexia had always known what she wanted to do, she was simply being deterred.

“No, you do. You’re convoluted with everyone else’s opinions, but I think you know exactly what you want. What is it that you want Alexia?” Jenni’s eyes never wavered from Alexias, as if daring her to look away.

She knew that the Catalan wouldn’t, and she was right.

Alexia stared right at her friend, knowing exactly what choice she needed to make for herself. Not for anyone else, but for herself.

At the very least, she needed to know what had happened to lose you the first time.

—

Alexia told herself she would call you in a few days, giving herself some time to cool off and think things through.

She couldn’t even make it through a few hours before she was digging up the card you had given her and typing the number into her phone. The phone rang once, twice, three times before you picked up, and despite herself the Catalan let out a sigh of relief that you had picked up at all.

“Hello?” You said dutifully as you held your ear to the phone, unaware of who was on the end of the line. There was silence for a long moment, long enough that you questioned if anyone was even there, before sound finally came through.

“Hi,” Alexia choked out, failing to keep her voice as calm and unbothered as she had told herself she would be.

“Hi Alexia,” you replied, fighting to seem as unphased as possible. You were shocked she had called you, and your heart beat so rapidly in your chest it felt as though it was fluttering.

“I know it’s sudden…but can you talk tonight?” The footballer blurted out after a few seconds. Your heart constricted with panic, but you swallowed it down and forced yourself to remain agreeable and steady.

“Absolutely. What time and where should I meet you?” You questioned as you took a deep, bracing breath. You listened as Alexia rattled off an address and the two of you agreed to meet in an hour before she hung up.

This might be your last chance to tell her the truth. Would it be worth it though? Was the possibility of creating an ache in her chest worth revealing what had really occurred?

You knew her, and you knew that her guilt would be immense even if the situation was completely out of her control. You made the choice for her, knowing that it was the right one. But you were unsure if she would see it that way. Perhaps she would only see the hurt you had caused her unnecessarily, and that would be the end of it. Maybe that should just be the end of it, allowing her some answers while allowing her to move forward with her life.

It had been nearly a decade. You had been without her nearly as long as you had been with her, and a piece of you knew that the ache would never disappear. You would always yearn for her, even if she decided to move on.

But that was a right she had earned, and you had lost.

It had been your own fault after all, that turned you two into this unsure, bumbling mess of emotions and challenges and strife. You would have done anything to change that if you could have.

It was your fault but not your doing, at the end of the day.

You arrived at the beach where Alexia told you to meet her a little early, which allowed you to sit down at a bench and look out at the ocean waves that poured in and out. You granted yourself that small moment of grace on the nearly empty beach as you slipped your sandals off and felt the lingering warmth of the sand under your feet as the sun slid behind the ocean.

You didn’t notice Alexia’s approach until she was in front of you, and though you offered her the seat next to you silently, she didn’t take it.

It should have been this that informed you that it would go downhill from there, but you clung to the hope that maybe this would be a productive conversation. You still didn’t know what to say exactly, but you knew you were not going to be dishonest.

Alexia’s eyes examined you critically, as if she didn’t believe that it was really you.

“How did you end up at the event the other day in the first place?” She inquired after a moment, and you can’t help but furrow your brows in confusion, lost as to why this was the first question she asked. Lost as to where all of this hostility came from, when you had yet to say a single thing.

You had expected her to become angered as the conversation went on, but she already seemed cross and you had yet to say a word.

“I work for Morgan Stanley doing investment consulting and management specifically with Spotify. I’ve become close with the people at the company as I work with them most days, and they invited me to the event. There were investors and important stakeholders that I was able to meet in person. I’ve come to the same event every year for the last three years,” you disclosed to the brunette, but the skepticism and hostility in her eyes never wavered despite your clarity.

“Did you see me before we ran into each other?” She interrogated, and you settled into your seat uneasily. This felt less like a conversation and more like she was drilling you, waiting for you to slip up and say the wrong thing.

“At the event, or in general?” You replied, wanting nothing but honesty in your responses. You could give her that, even if the air between you two was charged with more tension than you expected.

“Both.” Alexia crossed her arms, everything in her posture defensive and frustrated.

“At the event, no. I didn’t know until I was standing right in front of you,” you clarified, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear to avoid fidgeting nervously. “In general, yes I had seen you. Only from afar though, at your games over the years. I never would have approached you.”

I never would have approached you.

Alexia felt every defense in her mind light up at that statement. When had you decided you were so utterly done with having her in your life? All the Catalan could think of was her mother and sister warning her that this was going to be a mistake. All she could think of was Mariona who talked about how strange the coincidence was that the two of you had run into her, as though it was so suspicious.

You had left and hurt her.

It had been your fault, that is what all the evidence seemed to tell her.

Something pulled at the brunette’s mind though, something that begged her not to be so bellicose. Something that screamed at her that there was more to the story, and that handling everything this way was a horrible idea.

Fear seemed to rule her though, rearing an ugly head that the midfielder was not proud of.

“How many years,” she beseeched, fighting the wave of tears she could feel stinging at the back of her eyes. Her voice was low, wavering in a way that betrayed her emotions more than she cared to admit. You had let out a low sigh as you hung your head.

“Five years. I’ve been in Barcelona for five years, and I’ve been coming to your games on and off for five years” you finally confessed as you shook your head. You looked up at the Catalan, who seemed caught between devastation and outrage.

“You moved here five years ago and didn’t even think to come and talk to me? You never thought to check on me, to try and reach out?” Alexia seethed, burying her hurt behind a mask of fury. More than anything, the footballer felt like her whole chest had caved in.

“No I didn’t. I had broken up with you Alexia, that was the choice I made. I wasn’t going to come barging back in four years later and demand that you take me back,” You tried gallantly to remain calm, even in the face of Alexia’s vexation. The brunette hated your answer, throwing her hands up in acute frustration.

“You never even bothered to ask! You might have taken away my choice once, but you’ve spent five more years taking that choice away. You are a coward,” Alexia accused, pointing a finger at you even as everything in her screamed not to. She would regret what she said in the light of day, but all she felt right now was wounded. There was an intense urge to protect what little pride still remained inside her, and apparently in order to accomplish that she needed to lash out.

You met her toe for toe though, not giving her the anger she wanted exactly but rather a sense of indignation.

“I am a coward Alexia, you’re right. I wanted you to live your life, to move on, and I made the choice I thought was best for everyone at the time, including you. Don’t stand here and act like I made the choice without consideration for your feelings, because I have,” you fought, because even if you were at fault, you had tried so hard not to be selfish. If the Catalan got a single thing out of this conversation, you wanted it to be that.

“No you haven’t, you’ve been selfish for the last decade! I lost my father, my community, and then you all in the span of one month. You disappeared, just like that. You were like a ghost, and I was on my own, and right when I needed you, you weren’t there!” She practically yelled, and it looked almost like her entire body vibrated with resentment.

The footballer took a deep breath as she both tried and failed to remain calm. But every time she had more than a second to think, anger and vitriol seemed to flow out of her.

“I hate myself for how much I needed you all these years, how much I longed for you. I can’t believe I didn’t see what was going on right in front of me. And now you’re back here…for what? A celebrity status? To be a WAG? I don’t have time for that, and I don’t want you anymore if you see me as such a transactional person. I don’t even recognize you anymore,” Alexia explained with an air of indignance.

Though you had tried to remain calm, something finally snapped inside of you at that. You simply couldn’t allow for the brunette to say such things about you, and finally you allowed yourself the candor you’d held in all these years.

“Oh for God's sake Alexia, really? I haven’t come here to be your WAG, or for your fucking money! I’m in investment banking for Christ's sake, I am fine financially! I don’t like football, but I spent my childhood going to games because you loved it and I loved you! You think it didn’t kill me to let you leave like that?”

“You were my forever. We were young but you were the love of my life, and even now I can’t find myself ever connecting with anyone the way I did with you. I know I am older now, but I still have the same heart as I did when I was eighteen. You loved that person, and I’m not saying you need to love me anymore, but do not stand here and act like I have changed into someone unrecognizable when I have not!” You articulated, unwilling to allow yourself to be trodden over with disrespect.

You were not the same person as you were at eighteen, but you were also not the person Alexia had made you out to be.

The fight seemed to drain out of your body in an instance. Any hope that had been clung to was lost entirely as you decided just to be honest. You knew the brunette didn’t want anything to do with you, and in that moment you made peace with that.

You would give her the truth, and nothing else but the truth. When you looked up at the Catalan, there were tears shining in your eyes.

“I was sick, Alexia. I found out two days before I broke up with you that I had breast cancer, and I needed to stay in Madrid for treatment. You had just lost your father, you were moving to a whole new area of the country. You didn’t need to be worried about your sick girlfriend, trying to travel back and forth to Madrid, to have even more on your plate,” you revealed slowly as you aggressively wiped away the tears that flowed down your cheeks.

Oh.

“So yes, I made a decision for you. In all honesty, it was a decision I would happily make again and again if it came down to it. I wanted to preserve what little peace and happiness you had left before the move. I ached for you afterward, but I knew that this was the right choice. I wanted you to live your dreams, with or without me. And by the time I finished treatment and came to Barcelona, I felt that it was too late. I had broken us, it was my fault entirely that we had broken up, and I didn’t feel like I had the right to come to you and explain.”

“So no, I haven't approached you for the last five years. I come to your games and I see you play with joy and happiness, and I see you with your family, and I want to leave you with that. So don’t look at me and call me a coward or a gold digger or whatever the hell you think I am, because at the end of the day I tried to make the best choices for you and me, and I can’t take them back anymore,” you released, and suddenly you felt much older than your twenty-seven years. You head hung, and you shrugged before you spoke again, your tone bitter and defeated.

“If you’re so intent to see all of the reasons I fucked up, fine. If you need to tell yourself that I am a selfish whore to sleep at night, fine. But I sincerely hope that when you go to sleep at night you at least remember for a second that the decisions I made were for you, not because of you. Maybe it was the wrong choice to control that for you, but I can’t go back and change it now. So please, just leave me alone if this is all you want from me. I don’t have anything more to give you, not anymore,” You stated with exhaustion, spinning around to walk away. You disappeared into the night before the brunette even had a chance to say anything, left far too shell shocked to even begin to process your words.

You were gone without a glance backward, and Alexia sunk down onto the bench you had once occupied as remorse purged every other feeling in her body.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #woso #barcelona femeni #jenni hermoso #mariona caldentey #woso fanfics #woso x reader #fc barcelona femeni

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artisiumstudios · 3 days ago

Text

Au where Stan finds the duffle bag.

HEAR ME OUT-

Basically it’s like a week or two before the science fair, Stan is minding his business (sort of) and while he’s going through a closet/cabinet trying to find some supplies, either for the Stan’o’War or his car, he finds a duffle bag. Curious he rummages through the bag, inside are some toiletries, 20 bucks, and clothing- wait a second. Those are his; his shirt, his pants, his socks— all stuff he has been missing for a couple of weeks. He’s confused, scared, and worried.

Why would his stuff be in here? Why are there toiletries? Why is there money? And who put them there? Unfortunately he already has his answer. Pa was always clear that none of his children would continue leech off of him. If you had nothing to prove then you had nothing to take. The conversation behind the principal’a door swarmed through his mind. How long had pa had his bag packed? Was this always the plan? Was Stanley really that worthless?

But that didn’t matter because Ford wouldn’t choose a school over him! They were going to sail the world together and that would be that, to hell with Pa if he wanted Stan gone then fine he didn’t need him, he didn’t need anyone but his brother and the sea!

At first Stan wants to tell Ford about what he found, but decides not to because in the end it won’t be important. So he keeps quiet and decides to take the bag into his car, after all hey 20 bucks and he gets his stuff back! He can’t leave it in his room cause if Pa finds out he was snooping through his stuff, well he’d rather not think about that.

Then the conversation on the swing set happens, and Stan’s head starts spinning. So it wasn’t just Pa who wanted Stan out, Ford was willing to ditch him too. Stan feels betrayed and hurt, he doesn’t know what to say or what to do. He starts to question his theory, did ford help pack his bag? Was that why he had been so distant lately, feeling guilty for letting his Pa kick him out and even helping him with the bag?

Did ma know? Eventually Ford leaves, huffing from Stan’s lack of enthusiasm and response, mumbling about being jealous that he has a better future up ahead, not just some silly childish dream. Stan snaps, not physically, not with his words: just emotionally.

Fine if they don’t want him there then he’ll just leave. That night while everyone is asleep he grabs all of his money, more clothing, a sketch book, his comics— a picture of him and ford on the stan’o’war— and some other things he thinks might be valuable or just handy. And he drives away.

Nobody notices Stanley’s disappearance the next day, not until night has fallen. Ford cheerfully excited with his new full ride scholarship, goes and tells his parents. Caryn is happy, tears of joy falling down her face as she hugs her intelligent baby boy, his father gives a small smile and a nod— he gives his approval. But the mood changes once he questions where Stanley is. No one has seen him in hours, actually his car has been gone since early morning. They wait awake all night, hoping for some sign, some clue!

Filbrick grunts as he walks up to the closet, his eyebrows furrow ever so slightly, his lips pressed in a tight line. He sighs deeply.

Eventually a report is filed, but there is not much they can do, if Stanley ran away then he isn’t missing, and the police refuse to do anything about that.

Anyways thats like yk the beginning of how this whole thing happens but here are some other thoughts and ideas:

Stan:

Without Filbrick telling him he’s not allowed back into the family without a million dollars, Stan isn’t as driven by money as in canon. He doesn’t have a need for large amounts of money therefore he doesn’t have a need to do sketchy jobs just to satisfy his need to have his family back. In other words he doesn’t have as much trauma as in canon and is actually more able to settle down without being on the run or in survival mode. The first couple of months he just spends driving as far away from the East as possible making his way over to New Mexico where he settles down, first as a bar tender then eventually as a mechanic, he lives comfortably in a crummy apartment but hey he doesn’t really need much

Unfortunately he does get bored, even if it’s not with his brother he does crave adventure. And while fixing a this guys truck he overhears of a town called Gravity Falls, where weird creatures tend to reside in. So you guessed it, he picks up and drives from New Mexico over to Gravity Falls Oregon.

He gets a small but nicer apartment this time around and first he works as a mechanic. Immediately he starts to get a sense of the place and its weirdness and he loves it! (Ford would love it here-) .

Since the blind eye isn’t a thing people have two reactions to the weirdness of gravity falls: freak tf out or shrug and go on with their day. Stanley being Stanley gets the great idea to act sort of like a monster hunter/ putting small attractions up with the less violent creatures, not the mystery shack, but more like the mystery circus!

Eventually Stanley gets the name Monster-Lee for his ability to be able to fight off creatures so easily (mostly through bribery or fists)

Ford:

He still leaves for West Tech, but now he's fallen into extreme stress/anxiety and a bit of depression. Why did his brother leave? Why didn't he say anything? Is he okay? Why did he ever let their father get between them, he should've spent more time with him when he had the chance-

Unlike canon, Ford has no resentment/grudges to hold over Stanley, rather he holds that anger towards Filbrick especially when he found out that he had planned to kick Stanley out-- for being the reason Stanley left.

While Ford does still want to study anomalies, he also takes engineering classes, he wants to develop better technology and hopefully resources for run away teens/homeless teens.

While he doesn't meet Fiddleford as his roommate, he does meet him at a robotics convention where they instantly become friends. After college they develop a small company based around the idea of being able to find people, now expanding into different areas.

Ford is a lot more open with the fact the not only is he a twin, but he likes to talk about his younger twin brother who supported him and always stood up for him.

Part of the development with the technology involved finding people in forest dense areas, especially with a lot of caves (please tell me someones seen that one chart) Which then leads them to gravity falls as their first test area, small enough to test their tech, but still forest dense to get sufficient results.

and then these three bozos find each other lol. anyways thats all i got , i thought of this in the shower like 30 minutes ago and decided to procrastinate on my HW writing this lol. anyways

#gravity falls #stanley pines #gravity falls au #stanford pines #stanley pines angst #fiddleford mcgucket #this is probably the happiest au ive come up with #which says something #okay i seriously need to do my homework lol #oh also idk if bill should make an appearance or not #like i want him to but like idk how #also im calling this au the disappearance au #disappearance au #lol

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agreeeeeeeeeee · 2 days ago

Text

A Madness Most Discreet | G.W.

feat. George Weasley x Malfoy!reader

summary: Draco's older sister arrives at Hogwarts for her final year of schooling, and sets her sights on a certain red-headed trickster.

cw: MDNI 18+, pov switching, making out and adult language, light angst (we're just getting started baby), pining, Malfoy family drama and blood prejudice, confident!reader

series navigation | masterlist | divider by @roseraris

Readers POV

No one knew what to expect when the Daily Prophet reported that you, the eldest child of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, would be attending Hogwarts for your final year of schooling.

You'd been homeschooled your entire life due to your father's protective nature, but with Draco being 16, he felt you'd have adequate enough protection. Not to mention, he had more pressing matters to attend to than your schooling.

You were beside yourself with excitement. Finally, you'd see the outside of the walls of Malfoy Manor. Finally, you'd get to be around people that weren't Death Eaters twice your age, or your little brother. You loved Draco, but come on. A girl's gotta eat.

Draco and Professor McGonagall led you through the ancient corridors to the Great Hall, every portraits eye trained on you. The newcomer, the subject of many whispered conversations that passed by them less than an hour prior. It seemed even the castle itself was buzzing about your arrival.

You wanted desperately to ride the train with Draco, but your father insisted you be transported separately to minimize the scene you’re appearance would cause.

But you were not one for subtlety.

“I’m begging you to not make a scene,” Draco hissed in your ear, his Slytherin robes brushing your calves. You weren’t sure when it happened, but at some point your little brother grew like a weed and now stood a head taller than you.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, D.” You looped your arm through his, leaning your head on his shoulder. You were lying through your teeth, and he knew it.

“Seriously, y/n. There’s enough attention on us already.”

“Salazar’s tits, Draco! Would you relax? Everything will be fine.” The three of you reached the door to the Great Hall, closed firmly and unbelievably high.You swore you heard McGonagall curse under her breath, and Draco’s arm tightened around yours.

It seemed a scene would be made after all, and you fought the smile threatening to curve your lips.

“Ready, Malfoys?” McGonagall asked, turning to look over you both. The look in her eyes, almost pitying, made you hold Draco's arm a bit tighter, smile faltering.

What are they so worried about?

“As we’ll ever be,” Draco sighed.

McGonagall pushed open the doors, revealing the massive dining hall. Every table was filled with students, piles and piles of food over every surface, and more travelling on levitating trays around the room. Candles floated from the ceiling, the night sky clear and shining with stars.

Every head swiveled towards you, and you watched Draco’s demeanor change instantly. Suddenly, he was no longer Draco, but Lucius, and your stomach curdled, souring your excitement over a grand entrance.

Draco pulled you even closer to his side, casting a warning sneer to every eye that lingered too long while you walked towards Albus Dumbledore on the dais.

Your eyes ping-ponged from student to student, taking in the people you’d spend the next eight months with. You fought to keep your face neutral, an elegant mask of in difference like you'd been taught, but your heart pounded with excitement in your chest.

What a thrill to finally be seen.

The Gryffindor table was on your right, the maroon-clad students sizing you up with open disdain, but even that couldn't dampen the thrill tingling under your skin.

You spotted Harry Potter towards the center of the impossibly long table, flanked by some red-headed boy, Weasley, you surmised, and the girl you immediately recognized as Granger. Or so Draco called her, faux venom on his tongue.

His eyes flicked to her as well, and you suppressed the snicker that bubbled on your tongue. Despite your sheltered upbringing, you knew infatuation when you saw it.

You looked back towards the group, all of their eyes trained on you. But, your gaze snagged on one of them in particular, skipping over his twin beside him. His eyes were different, molten amber and sweet like honey, his hair like phoenix feathers, lips slightly parted like he was staring at a Great Wonder, but instead he was staring at you. Your heart gave an excited flutter.

Oh, there you are, a voice in the back of your mind whispered.

George's POV

Of course, George had heard that the eldest Malfoy was joining their class. Everyone had heard about your arrival. And Lucius made a point of telling Arthur shortly after the decision was made, something about ‘Keep those trouble-making twins away from my daughter.’

But, when the doors opened to the Great Hall and you entered on Draco’s arm, George had been stunned silent anyways.

You were beautiful, unfairly so. Which of course you were, you’re a Malfoy for Merlin’s sake. And George found that he couldn’t look away.

As you walked towards Professor Dumbledore, you scanned the tables, a curious glint in your gaze betraying your disinterested expression. George watched your eyes skip over Dean, then Seamus, then Hermoine, Harry, Ron—until your eyes locked on his. The air was sucked from the room, his heart hammering like a cornered hare as your gaze inexplicably held his.

Even as you continued to walk by, your eyes remained locked together, your head turning just slightly. A smirk sharpened your angelic face, and George’s jaw went slack. But then Draco gave you a nudge and you turned forward, a slight skip in your step.

“—pretty fit, eh?” Fred muttered in his ear. “Oi, look at ‘im,” Fred snickered. “George? Geooooorgie?”

Ron snapped his fingers in front of his face and George jolted back to reality. “Merlin, mate. Earth to George.”

“Sorry, what’d ya’ say?” George asked, looking around at his friends. They all stared at him with a mix of amusement and abject horror.

“Said she’s pretty fit,” Fred chuckled, bumping his shoulder.

“She’s a Malfoy,” Hermoine scolded.

“Yeah, so by definition, she’s hot,” Seamus replied.

“Exactly—”

George tuned them out as you were lead up to the stage, the Sorting Hat waiting on a stool to your right. Dumbledore was speaking, but George tuned him out as well, too fixated on the arrogant slant of your smile, the mischief shining from your eyes.

You had trouble written all over you.

McGonagall lifted the Sorting Hat, placing it on your head, and it looked like you were speaking to it. He swore he saw you say 'Gryffindor'. Were you asking to hat to put in a house other than Slytherin?

From the agonized look on Draco's face, it seemed like maybe you were. What Malfoy didn't want to be in Slytherin?

“What is she saying to it?” Harry asked, leaning forward.

Finally, the hat gave a great laugh, rendering the hall silent. “What a mind you have, girl. Clever, cunning, mischievous—a troublesome combination indeed. Seems even a Malfoy can be more than they appear. But even still—” The room held it’s breath, and Draco looked like he might keel over from stress, even paler than usual. You crossed your fingers, eyes screwed shut like you were praying. “Slytherin!” The hat cried, and Draco exhaled, shaking his head at the dramatic pout on your face.

Saints, that pout. George wanted to sink his teeth into it.

“You think she’s going to be as bad as him?” Ginny asked, watching as Draco escorted you down the stairs and over to the roaring Slytherin table. People were throwing themselves out of their seats to make room for you, and you basked in the attention like a benevolent queen returned to her kingdom.

“Worse, probably,” George muttered, forcing himself to look away from you and back to his dinner. Suddenly, he found himself without an appetite.

Reader's POV

Your first three weeks at Hogwarts had been a whirlwind of introductions, lectures, and parties. The world was at your feet, the lower classman wanted to be you, your classmates wanted to fuck you, and everyone else was terrified of you. You never had to wait for a drink, or a meal, and someone was always willing to do your assignments for you, not that you needed it.

It seemed your education under your father far surpassed that of your peers, in certain subjects at least. You could out cast them all with ease, and were looking forward to when dueling would begin.

And, you seemed to see your tall, red-headed boy everywhere you went. You'd learned that his name was George, a Weasley, Draco had sneered when he caught you ogling his tall, lean frame by the lake one afternoon.

You knew how your family felt about families like the Weasley's, but despite your father's best efforts, you couldn't bring yourself to hate someone for something as trivial as what ran through their veins.

An opportunity to speak to George hadn't presented itself until you'd escaped to the library one evening. The attention you initially craved was starting to border on suffocating, and you wanted a few hours of quiet to yourself.

It was a lesson your mother had taught you. You can withstand anything so long as you hold onto yourself.

But when you entered the library and started pursuing the stacks for the Potions section, you found none other than George Weasley stretched out in a window seat, a book in his lap, his head lolled against the window as he snored.

You tiptoed closer, taking in the state of him. He was dressed in trousers and a white button down, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, his tie a little loose around his throat. His hair was messy, like he'd been running his fingers through it, and his socks were mismatched argyle.

You knew you shouldn't, but you found him extremely endearing, so soft-looking and cozy. Your fingers itched to straighten his tie, smooth his flaming hair.

Instead you lifted the book from his lap and read the cover. “Pyromancy and Magical Combustion: A Spellcaster’s Guide”

George stirred suddenly, his hands flexing around empty air.

You considered backing off and leaving him to rest, but where the fun in that?

“George,” you purred, but he didn't respond. “Geoooorge,” you tried again, poking him in the sternum. He turned his head, freckled nose scrunching. “George, darling. It's time to wake up.” You walked your fingers up his chest and tugged lightly on his red and gold tie.

“Hm?” He mumbled, brown lashes fluttering open to reveal his sleep-trodden, amber eyes. They locked on your face, widening for a second before he jolted upright. “Y/n? Merlin, where the fuck—”

“It’s alright, love,” you shushed him, using deft fingers to straighten his tie and fix his collar. “You're in the library, sleeping like an angel. Lucky it was me that found you and not Pince.” You glanced up at him, finding his jaw a little slack, his eyes round as he stared at you in shock.

You always were a little too bold for your own good. Reckless in the pursuit of what you wanted.

“I, uh, yeah. Lucky me.” He swiped a hand through his hair. “Sleeping like an angel, hm?” He asked, regaining some of that cheeky charm you’d witnessed from afar over the last few weeks. A trait that only piqued your interest further.

“You looked awfully sweet to me,” you said, batting your lashes.

“Said the rattlesnake to the kitten,” he said, a teasing lilt in his voice.

“Rattlesnake?” You scoffed, feigning hurt with a hand over your heart. “I don't bite!”

“I don't believe that for a second, Malfoy.” His eyes skimmed over your face, down to your lips.

You flashed said fangs, and he smiled back.

“Why are you in the library?” He asked, glancing over your shoulder. “Alone? I haven't seen you without Draco or one of his goons since you arrived.”

You rolled your eyes. Draco had assigned Theo Nott and Blaise Zabini to watch over you when he couldn't, and it took a concerted effort to evade them and come here. “Was getting a little tired of the entourage,” you admitted.

“A Malfoy? Tired of attention?” He tapped a finger on your forehead, featherlight. “I think you might be broken.”

“You're one to talk, Mr. Weasley. Where’s your twin? Recently severed, are we?”

He chuckled, the sound low and honey sweet. “Hufflepuff party.”

“And you didn't go, because…? You love pyromancy so much?” You held up the book, teasing him.

“Wasn't in the mood to socialize,” he said, shrugging a shoulder.

“Well, George, it seems we may have more in common than we realized.”

His eyes warmed. “Seems so.”

“Could you help me find the Potions section?” You asked, cocking a thumb over your shoulder. “Draco never gave me a tour…”

George popped up, revealing his full height and sending you back a step, and your mouth filled with a saliva. The top of your head barely skimmed his collar bone, his limbs long and lean.

He offered you his elbow. “Right this way, Ms. Malfoy.”

You rested your hand on his bicep, the burgeoning heat between you flaring brightly at even the smallest contact, and he lead you through the stacks.

He was warm and steady beside you, his cologne fresh and clean smelling, his muscles flexing slightly as he steered you. Butterflies stirred in your stomach, pleased that your instinct when you spotted him had been correct.

He was a delight. Handsome, sweet, clever. A loyal Gryffindor, the opposite of all the other pricks that threw themselves at you.

When you arrived at the clearly labeled Potions section, you turned to face him. “You’re in my Potions class, right? Are you any good?” You asked, wanting to delay his departure.

“Pretty good, yeah. Why? Need a tutor?” He quirked an eyebrow, his voice coming out a little too fast to be ready as anything but eager.

“If you've got the time.” You shrugged. “I wouldn't want to keep you.”

“Nonsense. I'm happy to be of service,” he said, winking at you, sending a fizz of desire pulsing through your blood.

George gathered the books you needed and led you to a secluded table at the back of the library, recognizing the risk of anyone seeing the two of you together, even doing something as simple as studying.

“So, what's the trouble with Potions?” He asked once you were settled in, books splayed around the table.

“My father didn't see the value in it, and it's not like we have a laboratory in the Manor,” you said, dipping your quill in your ink.

“So you were homeschooled your entire life?” George folded his arms against the table, leaning a bit closer. “Why?”

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “My father had his reasons.” It was a practiced answer, a safe one, and it tasted bitter on your tongue. “He thought it wasn't safe,” you added, wanting to assuage the guilty feeling.

“Not safe?” George scoffed. “Hogwarts is the safest place in the world.

“Depends on who your enemies are,” you said, finally meeting his eyes.

“And who are you enemies?” He asked, sitting back on his chair.

You brushed the soft tail of your quill over you lips, mulling over your response. “Well, George. I suppose you are.”

“That's a shame, here I thought I was just your Potions tutor.”

You snorted, caught off guard by his joking. “Should be fine, as long as we aren't friends,” you chuckled.

“Definitely not friends.” He smiled. “Now, the thing about Beezors…”

George's POV

George watched you pour over your notes, brow furrowed slightly in concentration, and you did that god-forsaken fucking thing with your quill again.

Dragged the feather over your lips with the barest touch, the movement unconscious, and it made his heart seize every single fucking time.

He could hardly believe he was sitting across from you, walking through the curriculum you needed for the first Potions exam in two weeks. You'd missed a lot being homeschooled, but we're clearly incredibly bright, and you picked everything up with ease that rivaled Hermione.

He'd been fascinated by you from the moment you walked into the Great Hall, and managed to snag his eye every time you entered a room there after. You occupied his mind too, so much so he was already behind in Charms, but he wasn't even quite ready to admit that to himself yet.

You were a Malfoy, after all. It didn't matter that you were interesting, or clever, or beautiful. You were a Malfoy. End of story.

He should get up and walk away right now.

What right did you have asking him for help? You had everything. And you were smart enough to do this on your own. You didn't need him. And he shouldn't want you.

Oh, Merlin. And he didn't want you….right?

He couldn't. He barely knew you beyond your reputation and the whispers he'd gathered in the halls, but it felt like he did. Like he's known you for ages, the quiet between you comfortable despite his racing thoughts.

But no, surely not. He didn't want you. Nope.

You dragged you quill against your lips again, sighing softly, and he nearly melted to the floor like a lit candle.

Fuck. He wanted you.

“George?” You called, waving a hand in front of his face, and he jolted back to the present. “Dozing off again?” You teased, voice sweet as treacle.

“No, was just, ah, trying to remember what we covered fourth year,” he said, rubbing the back of his head and hoping you didn't catch the flush in his cheeks.

But based on the twinkle in your eye, you certainly did.

“Maybe we can cover it tomorrow?” You asked, closing your book and setting down your quill. “I'm not sure I can absorb anything else tonight—” a soft yawn punctuated your words, sweet as a lamb, and George had to look away so he didn't memorize the exact shade of your tongue.

Definitely don't meet up with her tomorrow. “Yeah, same spot?” He asked, gathering his things as well.

“It's a date.” You winked, and flitted between the stacks, disappearing from his sight.

George slumped back onto his seat, scrubbing a hand over his face.

When he showed up ten minutes early to the library the following day, he'd never felt more pathetic in his life.

All day, he told himself he wasn't going to go. That he was going to leave you hanging and end this before it got started. Whatever this was.

He was betraying his family by sitting in this chair, guilt churning and acrid in his gut. They would be so disappointed him. He could already hear his mother in his mind: you're a spineless fool.

And it was the truth. He'd lied to Fred and Ron about what he was doing, and snuck past Hermione and Harry who were studying by the entrance. He was lying to and hiding from the people he loved most, all for a Malfoy.

He was about to get up from his seat when you came breezing around the corner, a cauldron in your arms. He continued to rise but instead of fleeing, he took the cauldron from you with a chastising tsk.

“Stealing from Snape, are we, rattlesnake?” He set the cauldron on the table, turning back to you.

“I didn't steal it!” You argued.

He raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk lifting the corner of his mouth.

“I'm going to bring it back later.” You rolled your eyes and dumped your bag onto the table, potions and herbs rolling out. “How else am I supposed to learn about potions?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. Merlin, you were adorable. Pink cheeked from carrying everything, your hair windswept, eyes shining with that rebellious light. He was helpless, drawn to it like a moth.

“Just don't blow my eyebrows off,” he grumbled.

“No promises,” you teased back.

The two of you toiled the rest of the evening away over the cauldron, successfully making two of the four potions Snape had covered this semester.

You stood shoulder to shoulder over the bubbling green liquid, and he glanced down at you, at the victorious little grin on your face, and he felt his insides twist.

He reached to grab a bundle of herbs on your right, and you turned to grab an ingredient on his left, and your bodies bumped together in the middle, faces nearly colliding.

“S-shit, sorry,” he said, pretending he couldn't smell the expensive perfume on your skin. Like it wasn't rotting his brain from the inside out.

“Sorry for what?” You asked, leaning the rest of the way to get your ingredient, apparently completely unbothered by your chest pressed up against his, your face brushing his shoulder.

“Uh, I—”

“So tense, Georgie,” you murmured, reaching a hand up to squeeze at his flexed bicep. “I don't bite, remember?”

Every scrap of attention zeroed in on your hand touching his arm, his heart thundering in his chest. Georgie. The nickname rattled around in his empty mind. Georgie. Georgie. Georgie.

“I'll try,” he rasped, clearing his throat.

An hour later and you finished the third Potion, the sun long ago set over the horizon. It wouldn't be long before Pince came looking for stragglers, and you'd be booted from the library.

George glanced over at you, your cheek propped against your palm, lashes fluttering as your lids slid closed. Something warm bloomed in his chest watching you doze, peaceful and untroubled, trusting him enough to let your guard down so completely.

As quietly as he could, he picked up his things and yours, and discarded the potion. Carefully, he tucked the cauldron behind one of the the shelves for your next study session so you wouldn't have to lug it back and forth, vowing to take the fall if Snape caught on.

“Rattlesnake,” he cooed, nudging your shoulder. “C’mon, we gotta get out of here.”

You groaned, nose wrinkling before you blinked open your eyes at him. A sleepy smile stretched across your face, and his knees turned to jelly. He wanted to kiss you so badly it stole his breath.

“Sorry, Georgie,” you mumbled, covering your mouth when you yawned.

“All good, love,” he replied, handing you your things. Shit, he cursed himself. Love had just rolled off his tongue, easy as breathing.

But you only smiled at him, slinging your bag over your shoulder and getting to your feet. “Thanks for your help,” you said. “Do you think you'll have time to meet next week?”

Quidditch matches started next week, eating into the little bit of free time he had. But he'd figure it out.

“Could probably meet Monday after practice, if you'd like,” he said, shouldering his own bag.

“Monday would be great.” You rose up onto your toes to peck his cheek. “See you then!” You tossed over your shoulder as you walked away, leaving him a flustered mess.

He rubbed his hand over his cheek, the place your lips brushed his skin still tingling, and sighed. How could he stay away from you? Why should he? Because of your last name?

It was the Malfoy’s job to be stuck up and judgemental, not his. And you seemed to be nothing like them…

Then, something occured to him. A thought so upsetting it punched the air out of his chest and he dropped back down onto his chair.

What if this was a trick?

What if this was a way for the Malfoy's to get close to his family? To get them to let their guards down? What if you were just a beautiful Trojan Horse?

He shook his head, trying to shake the dark thoughts loose. You couldn't be, not with those bright eyes and rebellious smile. He couldn't imagine you being so cruel. But then again…you were a Malfoy.

How could he know for sure?

He left the library with his head hung low, doubts swirling in his mind like a storm, making his stomach churn, but one stood clearer than the rest. Disruptive as a strike of lightning.

Was it worth the risk?

Reader's POV

Your connection with George deepened over those few study sessions, and it seemed he was just as into you as you were him. From the knocked together knees, to his fingers brushing against yours when he passed over an ingredient or book, to his eyes lingering on you over the cauldron, the signs were plentiful.

But Monday night, he'd been different.

He was acting strange the entire study session, watching you closely, giving clipped, one or two word answers. His shoulders seemed almost heavy, burdened.

At first, you chalked it up to him being tired after practice, but instinctively, you knew it had something to do with you.

Unable to bear it any longer, you turned to him after shelving your books. “Is something wrong, George?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

He froze in place, refusing to meet your eyes. Then, something seemed to give way in his expression, a loaded sigh loosing from his chest. “I'm not sure we should keep doing this,” he admitted, sounding almost pained. “Your family would have a conniption, as would mine.”

You let your arms fall to your sides. It was only a matter of time before this came up, you supposed. But, you were prepared for it. “And?” You asked, risking a step closer. “I'm not sure about you…” you placed a hand on his chest, feeling his heart race, his muscles tense under your touch. But he didn't pull away. “But I make my own decisions.”

He placed his hand over yours. “You could have anyone you want. So, why me? What's in it for you?”

You recoiled slightly, removing your hand from him and taking a step back. “You think I have some ulterior motive.” It wasn't a question, nor was it a shock. Everyone always assumed you did everything with malicious intent. You just thought maybe George saw you differently.

George's eyes softened, sensing your hurt, but he didn't back away from his claim. “I think your father has it out for my little brother and his best friends, and I won't put them in danger just because I want to kiss a girl.”

Your heart gave a jilted pang, confusion making your brows furrow. You knew he was being completely honest. He wanted to kiss you, but he was afraid of what the consequences might be. Consequences you hadn't even really considered.

George had every reason to be skeptical of you. But your only ulterior motive was getting closer to him, and maybe getting under your father's skin a little should he ever find out.

“I don't have an ulterior motive, George. Nor do I take orders from anyone, least of all my father. I have no ill will towards your family, and I'm sorry that mine has treated you all so poorly.”

He was quiet for a moment. “Swear it,” he said, holding up his pinky.

You wrapped your pinky around his. “I swear.”

His eyes searched your face and you saw the moment he decided he trusted you, eyes melting like honey. "I trust you, rattlesnake." A smirk broke through his serious expression. “Am I going to regret it?”

Relief ballooned in your chest. “In the best way,” you purred, bringing his pinky up your lips and brushing a kiss across his knuckle.

His pupils dilated, breath hitching in his chest. Then you were moving, his body pressing you backwards against the bookshelf, dropping your pinky to brace your hips with both hands.

“You're awfully confident,” he whispered in your ear, making your stomach flutter with anticipation.

You hadn't felt this excited in far too long, his touch, his voice as tempting as the finest wine.

“Are you going to find out why? Or keep prattling on?”

With a final exhale, he crashed his mouth to yours, his lips supple and insistent, your toes instantly curling in your shoes. You opened up for him and he licked into your mouth with firm strokes, deliberate and claiming. He tasted like lemon drops and black tea, and you were desperate for more of it.

Every other kiss you'd had felt lifeless and disappointing, empty and wet in the worst way. But this, the fervid caress of his searching tongue, felt like wildfire: burning, consuming, ravenous.

“George,” you gasped when his lips traveled down your neck, the tip of his nose a cold contrast to the heat of his mouth.

He nipped at your pulse, sucking the skin between his teeth to leave a mark.

“George!” You giggled, pulling on his hair to stop him.

“Y/n,” he hummed, smiling at you. His lips were puffy and slicked with spit, his eyes sparkling.

Two could play at that game.

You leaned forward, licking a long stripe from the hollow of his throat, over his Adams apple, to the underside of his chin.

“Shit.” His hands tightened on your waist, his head falling back to give you more access. You bit down, laving your tongue over his fevered skin, and his let out a low groan. “You little liar,” he gruffed, one of his hands coming up to tangle in your hair. “You do bite.”

You giggled, lapping at the light purple mark you left behind. “I'm not sorry.”

He tipped your head back and reconnected your lips, teasing and light. “You have no reason to be. Bite me all you like, rattlesnake,” he murmured between unhurried pecks.

“Careful what you ask for.” You caught his lower lip between your teeth and tugged gently, earning another groan, before kissing him a final time, soft and lingering.

Hearing the distant chime of the bell tower, you finally broke apart. Curfew. Pince would be around any second.

You brushed your nose against his. “I have to get back to the common room,” you sighed.

“’Course. Wouldn't dream of keeping you from your beauty sleep.” He brought your knuckles to his lips, kissing them lightly. “See you at the match tomorrow?”

You nodded, pulling your still tingling lower lip between your teeth. “Absolutely. I’ll be in green.”

“Ouch,” he chuckled, pretending to wince. “I'll have you in red soon enough.” He released your hand and walked backwards out of the aisle, his eyes trained on you until he was forced to turn the corner, his hand sticking out to wave a final goodbye as he disappeared.

You placed a hand over your thundering heart, a little stunned by your bodies intense reaction him.

What in Salazar's name has you gotten yourself into?

George's POV

George left the library achingly hard and shook to his core, the blood that hadn't traveled south roaring in his ears.

That was the singularly most earth-shattering kiss of his life. And it was with the absolute last person he should be kissing.

George wasn't the type to get physical so quickly after meeting someone, but you were irresistible. And seemed to want him as badly as he wanted you, a fact he struggled to get his head around.

And even though he knew he should, he couldn't bring himself to regret a second of it. In fact, he was already anxiously awaiting the match tomorrow, debating whether or not he could squeeze in some extra practice at dawn while he walked back to his dorm.

As soon as he opened the door, he found his brother, Ron, Harry, Seamus, and Neville sitting up in their beds, and stopped short.

“Hey George!” Harry called, waving.

“What’s the matter with you?” Fred asked, clocking his trepidation immediately.

George had to fight to urge to clap a hand over the mark you’d left on his neck. Would they smell your perfume on his skin?

“Nothing? Why?” He asked, heading towards his trunk.

Fred eyed him suspiciously. “Where have you been?”

“Library,” George answered, a little too quick.

Fred studied him a moment longer, then snapped his fingers, a huge grin on his face. “You were with a girl!”

The rest of the boys oooooh’d, and George felt his cheeks heat.

“Yeah, right. You know me, drowning in babes,” he argued, throwing a towel and his pajamas over his shoulder. “I'm going to take a shower.”

“Ah, so just a snog, then?” Seamus teased.

George flipped them off and left for the showers, praying they forget about it by the time he got back.

Reader's POV

“Where the fuck have you been?” Draco snapped, rounding on you as soon as you stepped back into the Slytherin common room.

“Places,” you reply, kissing his cheek before strolling by.

He caught your wrist, tugging you back to him. “Y/n…”

“Draco…” You rolled your eyes. “I was in the library, relax.” You pull away from him and walk towards the girls dormitory, Draco on your heels.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time there,” he accused, an edge of suspicion in his voice. “I would have gone with you, or Blaise or Pansy—”

“I wanted to go alone,” you snapped, stopping so suddenly he bumped into you. A hush fell over the common room. “I don't need a fucking body guard, Draco. You need to back off.”

Draco's nostrils flared, his eyes narrowing. “Stop it,” he hissed. “We can talk about this in private.”

“Why? Is your ‘bad guy' reputation so fragile?”

His jaw flexed, and you could tell your words stung, hurt flickering across his eyes.

You sighed. “D, I can take care of myself,” you murmured.

“But if something happened to you…” his voice softened, trailing off.

“Let me have this,” you asked, taking his hand in both of yours. “Please. I've never had any freedom.”

He squeezed your hands. “I know, I know. Just…let me know where you are, at least? Don't just keep disappearing—what is that?” His eyes hardened, lowering to your neck.

You fought to hold your composure. “What? Oh, the burn? I bumped it with my curling iron this afternoon.” You grazed your fingers over the mark George had left, a flurry of butterflies kicking up in your stomach.

Draco dropped your hand, and guilt soured your fuzzy feelings.

“Who is it?” He growled.

“Draco—”

“You think I can't tell when you're lying?” He grabbed you and lead you into a quieter part of the common room, shadowed from onlookers. “Who was it, y/n?”

You glared daggers at him, squaring your shoulders. “I suggest you mind your own business, or we will have a fucking problem. I will not hesitate to dismantle every brick of this bullshit castle you've built. Clear?”

His jaw ticked, eyes blazing. “This is not a fucking game,” he said after a tense moment of silence.

“Just trust me, okay? I’m fine. We’re fine. Not everything is life and death.”

“Y/n, you aren't listening—”

“No, you aren't listening. We're safe here. And I have my brother to protect me from anything scary, yeah?” You reached up to pinch his cheek, and he scowled, swatting your hand away.

“I can't protect you if I don't know where you are,” he argued.

You sighed. “I'll try and tell you from now on, okay? But you can't be with me 24/7. You need to have a little faith in me.”

“It's not you that I doubt,” he grumbled, but you could tell that you'd won this round.

“Goodnight, Draco. And don't stay up too late, you've got a game tomorrow.” You poked him hard in the chest, and he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, sister.” He waved you off and you ascended the stairs to the girls dorm, leaving him to his friends, and you to toss and turn in your bed, dreaming of George.

Thank you for reading!

If you'd like to be included in the taglist, comment below!

taglist: @pxige1234, @simars3, @jaybbygrl, @irlpokemonsworld, @just-some-random-blogger

#george weasley #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley fic #the weasley twins #the weasleys #weasley family #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter smut #george weasley smut #weasley twins fanfiction #harry potter #fic series #fic rec

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tyrannosaurus-trainwreck · 2 days ago

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Early Supernatural Sam Winchester.

Dean's over-performance of masculinity is a cover for being bi and the result of somehow never being manly enough to Make Dad Proud™. Sam's performance of masculinity is the result of desperate button-mashing, like if someone slapped that Ratatouille rat into a jaeger and told him to go fricassée god.

Dean's meltdowns are usually because too much was asked of him too young, and his stunted sense of being held to an unfairly high standard to which he can still never articulate an objection. Sam's meltdowns have the distinct flavor of someone who made the mistake of wearing a red shirt and khakis to Target, is being berated by a customer for not being able to unlock merchandise for them, and still hasn't realized why this is happening.

There's also a lot of interpersonal awkwardness that probably started life as a "deeply traumatized homeschooler" note from the showrunner but very easily turns into not having the words for "deeply excited to make out with this hot chick, but not in a guy kind of way" or "deeply ambivalent about positive feedback for accidentally performing masculinity correctly."

There's an episode where Sam has to get like thirty minutes of therapy in return for intel about a haunting. The last thing the audience sees is some variant on "Let's talk about your brother," and then you see Sam stagger out looking like it was pure torture.

Is thirty minutes long enough to slam into "I love him, and he's a good brother, but he's always on my ass to nut up and bro down and be a man, even when it's just the two of us. And for what? Nobody likes being a fucking guy! Being a guy fucking sucks! Nobody would be a guy if they didn't have to be a guy!"? Is that stunned-mullet look because the therapist gently told him that, food for thought, most men do in fact like being men?

There's also an episode where Sam gets called Travis Bickle in a skirt, which is otherwise a completely inexplicable insult. But if every nascent "what if?" gets smothered by a look in the mirror at a jacked six-foot frame and the scars from a kill-or-be-killed life and the feeling that well, it's not like anyone's ever going to see you as anything else, is it?, that's a pretty sick burn.

If you believe 'who you are' is incompatible with 'what you do,' and you tried running away and doing something else when it got to be too much, and all that did was make everyone you loved before stop talking to you and get the new love of your life killed, then it's 'who you are' that has to go, isn't it?

If you see this post you’re legally required to tell me at least one trans woman headcanons you have for a canonically male character, I never get to see transfem headcanons like that, give me them, and for equality of my own please know estrogen could have saved Insector Haga and Dinosaur Ryuzaki I will not elaborate, also Yuya.

#I should add that estrogen absolutely is not going to save Sam Winchester #just like being out and proud is not going to save Dean Winchester #everything about that entire family's dynamic is deeply cursed #time machines and alternate dimensions and death and god and the devil couldn't make a dent in any of it one way or another #they're exactly as doomed and exactly as saved as they've always been

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ayumigotabittoolonely · 20 hours ago

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Nerd gojo x nerd reader! Headcanons

Nerd!Gojo x Nerd!You Headcanons

♡ Gojo Satoru, the prodigy. The guy who solves complex math problems in his head like it’s a simple 2+2. If someone ask him how, he’ll just smirk and say, “Just run your mind faster.” As if that makes sense.

♡ Gojo, the last-minute genius. He does his assignments at the last possible second but still gets a perfect score. People have accused him of using black magic. He doesn’t deny it.

♡ Gojo, the overanalyzer. Someone calls him a know it all as a joke, and next thing they know, they’re stuck listening to a 30-minute breakdown of why intelligence is subjective and how human perception affects knowledge.

♡ Gojo, the human stopwatch. He calculates the exact time people take to do the most random things:

Shoko takes exactly 3.2 seconds to process a joke before laughing.

Suguru sniffs his food for 2.6 seconds before deciding if it’s poisoned.

His teacher blinks an average of 18 times per minute when lecturing.

♡ Gojo, the walking encyclopedia. He acts like he knows everything psychology, physics, chemistry, math. Whether he actually does or not is debatable, but he’ll never admit he’s wrong.

♡ Gojo, the fact machine. He drops random trivia constantly, just to flex. “Did you know honey never spoils?” “Gojo, no one cares.”

♡ Gojo, the exam escape artist. He drags Suguru out to do something totally unproductive before exams, but somehow still tops the class while Suguru barely passes. Suguru has stopped questioning it.

♡ Gojo, the romance skeptic. Laughs in the face of love at first sight, listing the exact probability of it happening.

♡ Gojo, the worst date ever. He once explained The Art of War on a date. The girl left before dessert. He still doesn’t know why.

♡ Gojo, the secret romance reader. He totally didn’t get caught reading a romance novel in the library. And he totally didn’t like it.

Then, there’s you.

♡ You, the transfer student. No expression. No reaction. The class went dead silent when you walked in, as if even breathing would be too loud. The teacher praised you, and you just nodded like it didn’t matter.

♡ You, Gojo’s accidental rival. Sitting next to him was a nightmare. He asked the most stupid questions, and you ignored all of them. He assumed you were just an edgy wannabe. That made him laugh.

♡ You, the real threat. When exam results came out, Gojo was shook. For the first time, he wasn’t the top scorer. You were. And your reaction? A shrug. No smile, no satisfaction. That’s when you became interesting.

♡ Gojo, the forced study partner. He forced the teacher to make you his partner. You weren’t amused.

“Why do I need to do practicals if I already know the answer?” you questioned

“To see if it’s true or not, dummy.” He grinned, waiting for your response.

“If it’s in the book, it’s already true.” He had never wanted to strangle someone and marry them at the same time before.

♡ Gojo, the doomed fool. No one ever entertained his nerdy ramblings, but you? You matched his energy. When you started debating him on his own topics, he knew he was done for.

♡ Gojo, the AI skeptic. He swears you talk like a robot.

“That’s not an effective method.”

“This is scientifically incorrect.”

“Are you a government experiment?”

♡ Gojo, the challenge seeker. He constantly challenged you to competitions. You refused every time. “Not interested in unnecessary drama.” That hurt his soul.

♡ Gojo, the frustrated observer. He needed to see a crack in your facade. Anything. He studied your every move, trying to prove you weren��t an AI.

♡ Gojo, the mimic. He caught you muttering the pi table to regain focus. He immediately adopted the technique.

♡ Gojo, the sore winner. If he scored higher than you, he wasn’t happy he was annoyed. What’s the point if you don’t even care?

♡ Gojo, the reluctant believer. He told you about his hobbies with way too much excitement. You told him about yours, but your blank expression made him question if you were lying.

♡ Gojo, the paranoid calculator. He tried analyzing your movements, but everything about you was too precise. It freaked him out.

♡ Gojo, the not-so-subtle spy. Since you lived next to Suguru, he used that as an excuse to observe you. Every time he saw you, you were either studying or staring out the window like a lifeless statue. You caught him multiple times. Instead of yelling, you just stared at him. It was terrifying.

♡ Gojo, the insecure nerd. He nervously brought up Dungeons & Dragons, expecting you to be clueless. Instead, you knew everything. He had never felt average before.

♡ Gojo, the desk menace. He constantly poked you during class, hoping for any reaction. You just stared at him, unblinking, until he became flustered and left.

♡ Gojo, the insane conversationalist. He told you the wildest theories, and you listened like it was just another casual conversation. It drove him insane.

It took me 4 days to think of a gojo nerd scenerio 😭

And you GUYS HAVE TO REQUEST DO IT

Part 2 will be here

@naomigojo

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meadowfics · 2 days ago

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postpartum

husband!babyfather!kang dae-ho x f!wife!mom!reader

in a world where you did get to have your family, unlike what happened here

warnings: mentions of normal post-pregnancy stuff like breastmilk pumping. postpartum depression. dae-ho being ALIVE in this one and being the best husband to you and father to your babies <3

heavily requested in my inbox after what I posted yesterday LMAO

the weight of it all is suffocating.

you sit on the couch, your body sinking into the cushions as exhaustion drapes over you like a heavy, unshakable blanket.

in your arms, tiny and delicate, byeol drinks from her bottle, her little fingers curling and uncurling against your chest, her slow, steady suckling the only sound anchoring you in the moment.

the babies tiny body is warm against you, her breaths soft, her features too much like dae-ho’s that it makes your heart ache.

normally, you would be lost in adoration, in awe of this little life you brought into the world. you would trace her perfect cheeks with your fingers, marvel at the way her lashes flutter as she drinks, kiss the soft long hair she inherited from her father.

today, you are simply trying to hold yourself together.

your body is sore, aching from the endless cycle of feeding, pumping, and barely sleeping. your mind feels foggy, tangled with thoughts you don’t want to have, emotions you don’t want to feel.

you love your daughters, you love dae-ho, you love your family. you would never trade this for anything.

however, the love isn’t enough to make the heaviness go away.

across the room, seo-ah plays on the floor, a bright burst of energy that fills every corner of the house. she chatters to her stuffed animals, her high-pitched giggles filling the space, making everything feel alive in a way that you cannot.

“appa! look! teddy is dancing!”

she exclaims, lifting her stuffed bear into the air, twirling it in circles.

dae-ho, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside her, gasps in exaggerated excitement.

“wahhh! so cool, teddy is so talented!”

seo-ah beams at the praise, her eyes crinkling as she twirls again, her joy infectious, her laughter like sunshine.

normally, that sound would lift you.

normally, watching dae-ho be the incredible father that he is would warm your heart, remind you that you are not alone in this, that you have him.

today, it only makes the exhaustion worse.

dae-ho’s gaze flickers toward you, sharp and observant, even as he stays engaged with seo-ah’s game.

he doesn’t miss the tension in your shoulders, the blankness in your eyes, the way your responses are slower, quieter than usual.

he gets up, making his way to you, crouching in front of the couch so that he’s level with you.

“baby,” he murmurs, his voice soft, careful.

“are you okay?”

you manage a small smile.

“yeah, just tired.”

the marine’s warm, calloused hands settle on your knees, thumbs rubbing slow, comforting circles.

“do you want me to take byeol for a bit? you’ve been holding her all day.”

you shake your head, your arms instinctively tightening around byeol’s small frame.

“no, i got it.”

dae-ho doesn’t push. he never does.

he simply nods, but the concern lingers in his eyes.

after twenty minutes, when byeol finishes her bottle, you sigh, shifting in your seat.

“love, can you do their bedtime routine tonight? i feel… gross. i just wanna shower.”

dae-ho’s expression softens instantly, and without hesitation, he leans forward to press a gentle kiss to your temple before carefully lifting mini byeol from your arms.

“of course, baby. take your time, okay?”

he doesn’t say it to make you feel better. he means it.

every time, every single time, he is happy to take care of his girls.

he never complains, never hesitates.

he loves them, loves you.

as he walks away, bouncing byeol gently in his arms, calling for seo-ah in that affectionate tone he always uses, you make your way to the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind you.

unfortunately, the moment you step into the shower, the relief you so desperately crave does not come.

the warm water cascades down your skin, but it does nothing to ease the exhaustion weighing down on you.

the pressure is strong, firm against your sore muscles, but you still feel tense, wound so tightly that no amount of heat can unravel you.

you let your head drop forward, resting your forehead against the cool tiles of the shower wall. your arms hang limply at your sides, the steam rising around you in thick waves.

for a moment, you try to breathe…slow, deep, steady. but it doesn’t help. nothing does.

your body doesn’t feel like yours anymore.

your breasts ache, swollen and sore from pumping, tender in a way that makes you wince when the water hits them. your stomach, still soft and a little stretched from carrying byeol, stirs something sharp and cruel inside you, something that whispers that you’ll never look or feel the same again.

honestly, you cannot recall if you felt like this after having seo-ah.

you press your palm against yourself, fingers tracing over the faint marks left behind from your pregnancy, and you don’t know whether you love them or hate them.

a lump forms in your throat as your gaze flickers downward.

your thighs, your waist, the curve of your hips—none of it looks the way it used to.

you know, logically, that your body is healing, that you just brought a life into this world.

sometimes logic doesn’t quiet the thoughts that get at you, that tell you you are different now in a way that you can’t come back from.

you reach for your vanilla body wash, desperate for something familiar, something comforting.

the moment your fingers curl around the bottle, you realize it’s empty.

your breath catches.

it’s stupid.

it’s just body wash. you can use dae-ho’s.

it doesn’t matter.

it does.

your hand trembles slightly as you pick up his bottle instead, the scent of cedarwood and musk filling the space. it smells like him, like the warmth of his embrace, like the shirts you steal from his side of the closet.

you squeeze the soap into your net sponge, rubbing it over your arms, your shoulders, your chest. the wrongness lingers, settling into the hollow of your ribs like an ache that won’t fade.

when will this get easier?

the thought slams into you like a wave, sudden and suffocating.

your chest tightens, and before you can stop it, tears spill over your cheeks, mixing with the water streaming down your face.

you bite down on your lip, trying to keep the sobs at bay, but it’s useless. the emotions hit all at once, hard and overwhelming, crushing under the weight of everything you’ve been holding in.

your shoulders shake as the sobs build, as the exhaustion and frustration and sadness pour out of you in waves you can’t control.

you press a trembling hand to your mouth, trying to muffle the sounds, trying not to let it get too loud and scare seo-ah from her bedroom.

no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you tell yourself to just get over it, to just be strong…you can’t stop.

the walls feel too close. the steam is suffocating. the sound of the water is deafening.

you squeeze your eyes shut, gripping onto the tile as you try to catch your breath, try to pull yourself together, try to remind yourself that you are okay.

you don’t feel okay.

you don’t know when you will again.

your body still aches. your breasts are sore from pumping, tender in a way that makes you wince when the water hits them.

the final straw.

and then—

the door creaks open.

you don’t hear footsteps, don’t hear anything other than your own quiet cries.

then the shower door slides open, and suddenly, there he is.

dae-ho.

your husband.

your breath catches as he takes you in….your trembling frame, the water streaming down your face, the way you try so desperately to wipe away the evidence of your breakdown.

he’s not having any of it.

without a word, he steps forward, his black shirt and joggers instantly soaked as he pulls you into his arms.

“baby,” he breathes against your wet hair, his voice thick with emotion.

“don’t do that. don’t hide from me.”

you break.

your hands clutch at his shirt, your sobs shaking your whole body as he holds you. his large hands cradle the back of your head, his fingers slipping through your soaked hair as he rocks you gently.

“i know it’s hard,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“but i’m right here. i’ll always be right here.”

and you believe him.

he stays with you until the tears slow, until your breathing steadies.

then, gently, he helps you out of the shower, wrapping a towel around you before drying you off with so much tenderness it nearly makes you cry all over again.

you don’t lift a finger.

he stands behind you, brushing through your damp hair before braiding it, his fingers moving with practiced ease thanks to his older sisters.

he massages your vanilla body butter into your skin, his touch warm, comforting. when he helps you into your nightgown, his fingers linger at your waist, his gaze full of something so raw, so real, that it makes your breath hitch.

in bed, he helps you pump, his hands resting on your thighs, his presence a grounding force.

finally, when you’re settled against him, you whisper,

“did they go to sleep easily?”

dae-ho hums.

“byeol was easy, but seo-ah went on a five-minute rant about oreo ice cream before tiring herself out.”

you giggle softly, your heart swelling.

“she really loves that ice cream.”

you don’t speak again until the question that has been weighing on you slips past your lips.

“dae…will i feel beautiful again?”

dae-ho’s response is immediate.

he pulls you close, pressing kiss after kiss to your forehead, your cheeks, your lips.

“you are beautiful now,” he murmurs against your skin.

“you’ve always been beautiful. you gave us the most perfect babies. and i promise, baby, you’ll feel normal again. until then, i’ll be here. every step of the way.”

and in his arms, in his warmth, you believe him.

you will be okay, even if postpartum depression keeps trying to consume you.

masterlist

#kang dae ho #can you tell that this is my favorite gif of him lmao #squid game #squid game s2 #squid game season 2 #squid game fanfic #kang dae ho x reader #player 388 #payer 388 x reader #multifandom account #squid game x reader #squid game x y/n #meadowfics

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bunny-jpeg · 1 day ago

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sinful sentences (twelve)

mark webber - "tell me exactly what you want."

tags: smut/pwp, porn au, pornstar!mark & reader, daddy kink, age gap (mid-20s/late-40s), dom!mark, sub!reader, filming, aftercare, doggy style, dirty talk/degrading language, intense bdsm (there is a safe-word)

sinful sentences catalogue

"chin up, beautiful." mark's words were in your head as your gae was leveled with the camera in your face. you stuck out your chest a little more and stuck out your bottom lip in a pout.

the audience ate it up. a little starlet in the amateur porn scene with your lover, mark webber. both of you starring in hits such as "bad girl finally meets her match" and "bratty bottom finally gets the daddy she asked for". both played up your size and age differences. you in your mid-twenties and mark pushing fifty. he even let the greys come in a little to make the differences more striking.

younger woman who gets fucked silly by an older man with a dirty talk that would make anyone watching blush. and despite most of your fucking being on camera, mark was proud that you were all his.

he roughly patted your cheek and said, "tell me exactly what you want. tell the lovely people at home too. i'm sure they want to know what whorish thing you want tonight." he made a small 'tsk' noise and pinched your cheek, "answer me, baby. hate to put you over my knee tonight. still bruised from last night."

your ass was still marked purple, with mark's hand print seen at a certain light. he made quite the mess of you the night prior. your sex was intense, mark liked to bite you, mark you. the time he wore his name across your chest and had you bounce on his cock till he finished inside of you. he liked to bind you, gag you, blindfold you. he had a collection of toys that your gummy little pussy was quite familiar with.

it was filth, the kind of porn that would make the deepest pervert blush. mark held your face and made you look at the camera, his thumb trailed across your bottom lip before he sank it into your plush mouth. and you obeyed and sucked on it like you would his cock.

"dirty little thing, aren't ya? so cute. look at you. daddy's little stupid whore. i'm glad i got you out of whatever small town hell you came from, probably would've been the town slut by now. legs more open than a mcdonalds." he chuckled lightly. he took his thumb out and petted your hair roughly, "but instead you're allowed to be a total whore in my home. was worried an old man like me wouldn't be able to keep up with you. but i think i make it work. don't you think?"

and you nodded, there was heavy heat in your cheeks while you remained on your knees. your hands in your lap, obscuring your pussy from the cold gaze of the camera. you were certain your audience could identify you from your pussy alone.

"good girl. good girl." mark purred, "keep daddy happy, huh? trained you just right. if you tried to fuck another man you'd be lost. but you don't want to run off do you?" he pulled his hand away to grope and the hard-on in his jeans, "daddy won't let that happen. you'd be a lost little puppy out on the streets. have to put up posters to bring you home."

you felt your core tense, you were soaked and it excited you. his words were like extra spicy honey, it burned as it soaked into your mind. it left your stomach in knots as you anticipated for what was to come next. you'd take it eagerly.

"pretty thing, huh? look at you. always perfect for the cameras. i bet so many perverts online jerk off to you every day. wishing they were in my spot right now. too bad for them, because only i get to ruin you, right?"

you nodded and replied, "yes, daddy."

"good girl, not use the last of that brain of yours to get on the bed before i fuck it out of you. and don't you dare touch yourself. that's my property." his voice was low and radiated through you. it made you only more wet. your slick dampened your inner thighs as you got up and headed to the bedroom.

the video stopped and mark only resumed it now on a tripod with the both of you stark naked. the viewer could see the crudely writing on your upper thigh, "belongs to mark. don't touch." a possessive warning in sharpie. you knelt on the bed facing the camera. a full display of your slutty body.

mark was behind you, his large hands on your form. he felt you up while he kissed your neck. occasionally he glanced at the camera and would smirk at it. he loved to record and post videos of you two fucking like animals, but he still had a throb of jealousy in his soul that was only cured by plunging his cock deep inside of you.

"tell the people at home how it feels. i bet they'd love to reach through the screen and feel how soft you are. cute little thing aren't you? obedient like a bitch. a fucking dog." he purred.

you swallowed, "daddy."

"shh, shh. don't talk. good girls don't talk, they listen. no need to run that mouth of yours or else i might find something better to fill it with. keep you gagging on something to shut you up." he said as he played with your nipples which made you squeeze your thighs together, "because you're a whore, right? sell videos of me fucking you. disgusting."

you whimpered, "please, daddy. i am a good girl."

mark chuckled lowly, "not too sure about that. you like being degraded. you like being marked up, you love being used by me. should write 'cum dump' on you next time. show everyone how much of a slut you are. owned piece of ass." he patted your thigh where the writing was.

you yelped as your face collided with the bed with your bare ass up. it was leveled with his heavy cock, he was thick to the point that you had to be soaked to take him. thankfully tonight he was able to sink into you without any issues.

your pussy like a vice around his cock as he shoved your face into the covers. you let him use your body as he so desired. he rocked up into you and yanked your hair to face the camera.

"give them a show, angel. or else they might turn off." he said as he held onto your head while he fucked up into your sweet little cunt. it was soaked. your dirty kink was that you got off to it being rough. you loved mark's rough hands on your skin as he worked his cock into you.

you whimpered as he fucked you, you tried to keep your eyes open but the pleasure made them flutter closed. mark felt like he was shifting things in your body, bruising your insides in a way that made you shudder.

"take it, fuck. that's right, angel. give our viewers something to get off to. that's all your good for. stupid girl who only thinks about cock and how to get it. must be why i have a collar and a short leash to keep you on."

you panted, your mouth open as you tried to get as much air as you could into your lungs. you held onto the covers and arched your back as he battered your insides. it was intense, the kind of intensity that made your toes curled.

but what made your core throb even more was when mark leaned in to you and said softly, "remember, rose. if it all gets too much, remember our safe word." rose. all that needed to said in order to end the scene. his voice was low enough that the camera didn't pick it up.

you nodded and kept your head up as he fucked you deeply. his cock brushed up against all the right places. it felt like a tight fit as he worked himself against you. it made your brain buzzed from the strong thrusts he moved against you.

"look at yourself, baby. can you see that in the viewfinder? the way you shake when i fuck you. like you were made for this. the entire internet has see your fat tits and your pretty pussy. but none of them will ever taste you. right? because you're mine, you belong to daddy."

"yes." you whimpered.

"say it, angel. c'mon, use those big girl words of yours." he smacked your ass as he pushed your face right into the covers, he held you by the back of your neck as he fucked you feverishly.

you whimpered, not even able to be heard. your voice muffled by the covers. mark already knew the answer, you were his. you belonged to him and only him. he was being generous and sharing with the public every curve, every mole and dimple on your bare skin. he made a mess of you for the camera because he allowed it. he could be quite the giving man.

the pleasure was a buzz in your brain, it was heat in your blood. it made your head spin as you panted pathetically onto the bed. everything washed over you.

"cum for me, baby. i can feel you. you feel good." he purred as he yanked your hair once more, "come on, angel. cum for the camera." his hips worked against you, his cock throbbed inside of your achy cunt as he pulled an orgasm out of you. he heard your sweet noises as you climaxed which only made him move faster.

his cock ached inside of you, he fucked you quickly. he held your face towards the camera and made you that all the viewers were focused on how good he made you feel.

"look at you. internet's favourite whore. my favourite whore." he bounced you up against his cock quickly. he tensed up for a moment as he felt the pleasure swirl in his brain. he gave a few more rough strokes before he finished inside of you.

you moaned once more before the scene ended. you felt distant as pleasure filled your core. you felt mark pull out then work to end the video to edited later.

the porn personas faded away as mark said to you softly, "are you okay, honey?" you looked up at him through bleary eyes and gave him a thumbs up. he ruffled your hair and said, "let's get you cleaned up."

"can you get me some more ice cream? this is really good." you stayed curled up with your lover in bed, you were dressed in a fluffy white robe and your hair was wet from a steamy bath. you were both seated up but you had your bare legs across his lap. in your hands was a pint of ice cream.

mark took you gently my the head and kissed the top of your head, "sorry, pumpkin, that's it till we go grocery shopping tomorrow. plus, it's late. i don't want you having a stomach ache."

"but honey." you pouted at him.

he shook his head and took you by the cheeks to kiss you on the lips, "don't wanna hear it, angel. finish up then brush your teeth. if you feel any aches tomorrow, i'll run you a bath."

that was what you liked about mark. no matter how intense the scene was. how much he put you through, he would make sure that you were okay after filming. a good dominant never left his submissive out to dry after a scene.

he could degrade you, smack you, spit on you, ruin you in every way as long as you didn't use the safe word or signal. and then always afterwards he spoiled you. because you may be a raunchy star, but you'd always be mark's good girl. <3

#bunny writes #sinful sentences #reader insert #formula 1 #formula one imagine #formula one smut #f1 smut #formula one fanfiction #f1 x reader #formula one #mark webber x y/n #mark webber x you #mark webber x reader #mark webber smut #mark webber

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shanklin · 2 days ago

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The Shack hates them of course!

At first at least.

Stan was so excited to have them over. He prepared for weeks for their arrival, planned fun family bonding adventures and made the Shack look extra pretty! He even cleaned out the attic and gave the Shack new furniture offerings! The Shack could see Stan finally brightening up!

And then those damn kids go and break Stan's heart by insulting Stan and having an 8 Ball decide if they stay or not.

The Shack won’t stand for it! They were supposed to make Stan brighter but instead they made the Shacks human more miserable than he’s been in years. All the hard work the Shack put into making Stan feel better and they destroyed it all with just a couple of words.

It needs them gone NOW.

So it does its best to scare them off without actually hurting them. Stan wouldn’t like that. Unfortunately.

The Shack makes it so the kids think they’re haunted and lets in monsters to attack them. The Shack is confident the kids will run and never come back just like all the other handymen Stan tried to hire before Soos, but the boy pulls out a camera instead and investigates!

Oh dear the Shack rarely felt this seen. That only ever happened with Stan in private. It should’ve tried to make itself more presentable.

And then the girl compliments its splinters and the Shack is utterly charmed. Before the Shack can realise what's happening, it tries to keep them close and play with them!

It even brings out some of the forgotten rooms like the party ones or the one with the wax statues for some light family fun!

[That one didn't go so well for Stan which the Shack regrets, but it's the thought that counts right?]

Luckily just as the Shack was warming up to the kids, the kids were warming up to Stan and then finally FINALLY the Shack gets to see more of Stan's honest smiles and laughter. It couldn’t be more grateful to the kids. And just like it did with Soos and Wendy before that it promises to keep them safe and protected no matter what!

The Shack loves its humans dearly!

Sentient Mystery Shack, who is really biased towards Stan, so when Ford tells Stan he has to give it back after the summer it’s on sight.

Ford keeps tripping over nothing, nothing is where it's supposed to be and somehow he keeps running into closets when he tries to go outside.

But the worst part, the WORST part is that Ford's lightbulb just won't. Work. No matter what he does it keeps flickering and exploding.

Ford is spiraling.

There is no reason why it shoudln’t work. All his trial runs work perfectly. He’s already checked the Shacks wiring three times and relearned this dimensions science from the ground up.

Nothing works.

The Rift? Bill? The impending apocalypse? Eating? Sleep? Who cares about that.

WHY. WONT. THE. LIGHTBULB. WORK???

It doesn’t help that Stan keeps laughing at him.

“Then you do it!” Ford eventually snaps at Stan.

Stan shrugs and with a little song under his breath screws his own lightbulb in. It works perfectly.

Stanford screams.

#And then that face stealer dared to lay a hand on Stan so the Shack is gonna make Fords life a living hell #or something like that #Guess I decided the Shack barely remembers Ford. It was practically a baby back then. And the science stuff was way too boring :(#it didnt understand it. but that other guys music was fun! it liked the other guy!#i also decided for myself that the shack either doesnt use pronouns or it/its because humans are weird and ehy would the shack use some #boring people names when most things and concepts in the world are an it instead!#Stans smiles and laughter are an it just like the glitter that mable used to make the shack prettier #on a side note i like to think the shack loves compliments and loves the tours Stan gives to show off how amazinh the Shack is 😌#on a side side note Soos' break room definitely becomes much more spacey and comfy the moment noone is looking #and before that cute littlw kid with the screwdriver came around the Shack wouldnt let anyone touch or repair it unless its Stan himself #and maybe the shack panics everytime wendy jumps down from the roof so it forced the trees around the shack to bend just right #just in case. wendy is a corduroy. the daughter of the man who formed the shack into the shape it is now. she can take care of herself #but still. better cusion her fall just in case.

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zarnzarn · 2 days ago

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lamb who kills the one who waits when the time comes to decide, furious and betrayed at being asked to lay down their life after everything they'd done, after-

they kill him, and don't stop to see what happens to the body, carried away by their celebrating followers. They rejoice the whole day, of a final victory against evil, riling each other up to the heights of joy and mania until late in the night.

And then Lamb goes to bed and blows out the lamp and the their decision finally sinks in.

what have they done.

they wake the next day trembling from forgotten nightmares, overheating as they make their way through the day's chores, blank-faced and numb. the call to sermon is waved off in face of a headache, as they try not to think about how much of what they preach no longer is relevant.

the week passes in a haze- they unthinkingly leave offerings in the wooden chest until they rot in the summer noon; call out the rituals in Narinder's language and pretend the power isn't fainter than usual, go on a crusade to get their mind off things- except the last is the worst of it all, because the crown's eye is pale pink, pupil fat with power, instead of the crimson cat-eye that Lamb is used to, and there's no getting away from the fact on how silent it is when no one is watching behind it.

how silent it is because no one is there.

yet somehow worse still is-

"hope you feel better soon, leader!" a younger follower says, tucking a camelia into their wool. they know they've been distant lately, avoiding worries left right and centre. "praise the one! he'll make everything alright."

it's like a hammer to the chest, leaving them breathless and stunned, to realise- they never commissioned a statue of Narinder, after all these years. so stubborn in only leaving the crimson eye scratched around the cult grounds as his symbol until he found an artist worthy of Lamb sharing the image of the god of death, that-

no one else except the lamb knew what narinder looked like. they had no idea whose defeat they'd celebrated.

no one but Lamb remembers their god.

it gets harder after that.

Lamb isn't sure how many people have left the cult by the time the Mystic Seller's demand comes through, to save what's left of the Bishops from endless purgatory, before their violent shadows disrupted the fabric of the four realms.

They stare, speechless and disbelieving, at the outrageous ask, before it suddenly sinks in that-

The bishops.

They run through the lands once more with eagerness, sword slashing harder each time, ruthless and relentless in their kills. They reconquer Leshy and Heket brutally, curtly setting out the terms when they are diminished back to mortal and forced to stay in the cult. They agree, and agree to keeping their peace as well when Kallamar and Shamura join them, surrounded by a cult that's flourishing once more, waiting eagerly for a familiar stranger. Lamb tells stories around the fire about The One Who Waits, watches the smiles on their followers' faces reappear, the ones who had fled their anger and depression slowly making their way back to the flock, and the cult grows back to its full potential once more.

And then Lamb runs up the stairs when it's all ready and beautiful and welcoming, beams at the Seller as they wait for their instructions.

The Seller frowns. "Yes?"

Lamb tilts their head, rusted bell on their neck tinkling. It had broken the day after Narinder's defeat, the collar finally fluttering to the ground in tatters like a cloth of eighty years should; but Lamb had repaired and maintained and polished it until it wrapped proud around their neck once again. Their heart is beating in their chest, excitement running through their veins. They'd forgotten how it felt to be on the cusp of going to meet the One Who Waits.

"The last bishop still remains," They laugh, joy spreading through them. "I have to go get him too, yes? For the good of the universe and all."

The Mystic Seller... is silent.

"Narinder was not a Bishop," It says finally. Lamb's smile drops. "The Three-Eyed Cat had completed his ascension when he mastered the resurrection ritual. He was a God."

Lamb's heart drops to their stomach, stumbling like they've taken a hit. "What? So what? Can't I bring him back?"

The Mystic Seller tilts their head. "No."

"What do you mean no?" Lamb's nostrils flare, red crown sparking as they take a step closer. "I brought all those others back, why can't I-"

"They were the pillars of the very order of the world-"

"They were fucking MONSTERS!" Lamb shouts. "And what, death isn't?"

"It is," The Seller says, unaffected by the screaming. "But you are the Bishop of Death now. The cycle has begun again."

Lamb feels like they've taken an arrow to the chest. They stumble forward, and then to their knees. "No," they whimper. "There has- has to be some way to bring him back."

The Mystic Seller stares at them. "You were the one to kill him," They point out, and Lamb feels bile rise in their mouth as their breathing gets faster. "Why would you want him back? A thriving cult, an usurped crown, his spells in your hand-"

"Shut up," Lamb hisses.

"-you have all the power you could ever want, little sheep. Your revenge against the murder of your people."

"He wasn't the one to do it!" They shout up at the Seller, despite the hypocrisy- it had been part of their thoughts when they'd raised the axe again and again and again; the resentment of if it wasn't for you-

"No, no, no, no, no," They whimper, holding onto their biceps and shaking. "Narinder."

It is the first time they have said his name in five years. That realization is what makes the tears finally fall.

Their throat is hoarse when they finish, eyes swollen and blood pooled around them, skin already healing back to perfection where they had clawed through. The Mystic Seller stares at them and sways, silent.

"No," The Lamb finally says, and gets up, determined. Walks past the Seller, to the door behind, leading to the Gateway.

They wonder how they never realized. Or maybe they did, and were just lying to themselves that they didn't.

Lamb reaches the crater, with the rusted chains and wooden crucifixes rising out from the fog around it and comes to a halt.

Narinder is exactly where they left him.

Bones only now. Blackened by all the rituals he performed, he'd told them once; perfectly placed, like he had just fallen.

Lamb still has the ointment they made with their first cult sitting in the back of their cupboard, back when they were naive enough to think it would only take months. Ointment spelled to help grow back the fur on his rotting arms, worn to nothing by a thousand years of pulling at the chains and them tightening on him every time he moved in response.

The skull could be anyone's, now.

Two ribs are broken, where Lamb's axe went through. Straight to the heart.

Lamb exhales and shakily kneels to the ground, lowering himself to Narinder's side, careful to not dislodge a single bone out of place, and molds their body around the skeleton in a perverse mockery of a lover's embrace. Violently, abruptly, they want that, so much it burns- Narinder's arms holding the close one last time. It feels unbearable, to have- to have him lowered to meet Lamb at his level, to have him attainable instead of a towering, unreachable, terrible eldritch horror, and for him to be dead.

Oh, Lamb thinks, shaking as tears form in their eyes. Oh, I loved you. I love you.

"Darling," They choke out, tracing one cheekbone. "My baby. My one. My death. Come back, will you?"

Narinder opens his eyes and shoots them an unimpressed look. Lamb sobs, shoulders heaving, gasping as claws embed themselves in their throat- whole, complete, strong, paw soft as a cloud, faint markings on the fur Lamb never knew he had now drenched with blood.

They laugh, smiling through the tears as they push forward into the claws, flesh ripping and tearing as they push their mouth closer to Narinder's.

"I am sorry," They whisper. Narinder growls. "i love you."

"Traitor-"

"Fuck the crown," Lamb breathes back, moving to straddle Narinder to interrupt him, keeping the weight on their own knees to not damage his healing ribs. His claws are still in their throat, tangled in their stitches. "Fuck the power. Fuck the cult. Fuck religion. I only ever wanted you."

Narinder stills, looking up at them with sharp eyes. Lamb laughs around his beloved's fingers. "I only ever want you. What is life without you, Antim?"

Narinder studies them. Lamb waits, bloodied and grinning, patiently waiting, smitten to have those beautiful trifecta eyes upon them once more.

"I promised you," They whisper. "I promised to break you out of here. Let me, my one. My only one, who has waited so long."

Narinder takes a breath, tilting his chin down and then up. His claws twitch in Lamb's vocal chords, drawing them down closer to him.

Lamb whoops in joy and reaches up to toss the crown to the side, fitting their hooves to the last chain wrapped around Narinder's neck, binding him still to the Gateway, and splinters it into a thousand pieces, never to hold anyone ever again.

"Come," The Lamb whispers finally, moving back and gathering their lover up in their arms, still pressing their mouths together. "Let me take you home, Narinder. Mere jaan. Meri mrityu. My one."

Narinder sighs and buries his face in the crook of Lamb's neck as they start to walk away. "Turn back around, idiot. We cannot leave without the damned crown. And I am picking out the wedding decorations."

"Of course, my love," Lamb coos, and leans in again to kiss their greatest mistake.

#narinder #lamb #cult of the lamb #my fic #narilamb #i add in hindi cause i dont speak sanskrit but i am always on the indian narinder train okay #i will answer any questions abt this but PLEASE. PLEASE MAKE HIM INDIAN. NARINDER IS A SANSKRIT NAME AND IT WOULD BE SO COOL.#antim means end (pronounced with all soft letters)#mere jaan means my life #meri mrityu means my death #him being indian makes his speech pattern also make sense if you translate #also sorry to those waiting for freezer bride i was working on it i promise this has been in my drafts for years now lol

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kawhh · 2 days ago

Note

"They need a break? They're just resting there in your mouth."

Yeah, hi. Back with yet another question that my friend wanted me to ask you. Do you perhaps happen to have any thoughts on dismissive oral cockwarming with Jack, Quinn or Trevor? You know, my friend wanted to know

Welcome back, welcome back to your friend. Not quite cockwarming.com because I went down the spiral before I learned to read, but you're down there for hours with all of them.

I think Q would be the best at it. I think it'd be hard to make him break, to get attention from him.

He'd stop if you used a safe word or were actually upset, but he'd have the better poker face. He'd have the most restraint to fuck your throat for hours until he was physically drained. He wouldn't get as distracted by the cum dripping all down your clothes.

He'd be better at the slow fucking, dragging it out. Wouldn't get as excited. He's also just more tired.

Jack would be better than Trevor, but barely. It's harder for him to control himself. His desire to spit on you is overwhelming. Constantly having to swallow so he doesn't acidentally lose control when he bottoms out in your throat, feeling you squeeze around him.

You're just so fucking pretty when you choke on him. It's hard for him to concentrate on what he's doing and not just stare at you.

Seeing his cum leak out of your mouth almost makes him whimper, feeling overwhelmed.

He can't resist jackhammering your mouth, cumming again and again quickly. He can't hold himself back.

Trevor, trevor, trevor.

He'd be the worst at it. He really can't keep his mouth closed. It's so hard for him to not just spill praise. So hard for him to not praise his fucking slut.

He's biting his shirt. He knows he's fucked. He's trying so hard. Picking up his phone, scrolling, switching channels, replying to texts. Anything. He needs a distraction. He needed this. But it's also torture for him.

He's almost constantly holding your head down, knowing that the more you move, the more he's fucked.

Eyes rolling back in his head.

#trevor zegras #quinn hughes #jack hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes imagine #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes x you #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #trevor zegras x you #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras blurb

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star-suh · 2 days ago

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Johnny, La Gente Está Muy Loca… WTF

Johnny Suh x Male Reader

cw: protected sex to bareback (remember do NAWT use oil based lube when you're using a condom), some impregnation kink disguised as silly jokes 😭

an: this is the best title i could ever think of ngl, like this is peak star-suh idk.

—

yn was in line waiting for the doors to open so he can finally witness a party with DJ JohnnyBe, he heard that all his parties are fun.

when they opened yn went straight to the bar to order something to drink, while he was waiting for the show to start he made some friends her and there.

“ladies and gentlemen please give it up for our guest DJ JohnnyBe” screams and claps of excitement flooded the room when the dj appeared. “hello everyone, i'm glad to be here and i hope i could make this night unforgettable for all of you” he winked, put on his dark glasses and blasted his first set of songs. the bass sounds make the floor vibrate. the music was intoxicating, DJ JohnnyBe indeed knows how to lit a party. during one of his last sets johnny removed his glasses, his gaze was adjusting to the bright colored flashing lights when he saw yn in the crowd. the guy was happy having the time of his life, something that made johnny smile and caught his attention too.

“excuse me, i’m going to the bathroom” yn whispered to one of his new friends and went there. “it was a magnificent night guys, thank you for coming here but i have to go now” everyone awwed, disappointed, wanting more of him, “but don't worry, tye part continues with the next dj”, everyone screamed in euphoria while johnny left and went to the bathroom.

yn was washing his face when someone entered the bathroom, “hey you're the happy boy that was on the crowd” johnny said with a happy tone. yn was stunned seeing him that close, his mouth was agap, thinking it was a dream caused by all the drinks he had tonight he said “fuck, you're so hot”. johnny was taken aback by this but then smirked, “well thanks” he replies.

yn realized it's not a dream, dj johnny fucking be was right there in front of him. his face became red like a tomato. “i-i'm sorry i think i-i d-drank a lot to-tonight haha” his flustered ass tried to brush it off. johnny places both hands on each side of tn cornering him against a counter. “you look so cute when you're flustered” both males made eye contact, one’s eyes showing how shy he was while the other's were fierce, as if a hunter had just hunted his prey.

“what's wrong party boy. what happened to that “fuck you're so hot” earlier comment, hmm?” at this point yn didn't know what to say he just closed his eyes but opened them again when he felt something poking at his bulge. it was johnny’s bulge. “see how horny i am, right now?, you should take responsibility for it” the low tone of his voice sending yn already to cloud 9, he moaned johnny’s name.

“hmm what was that?” johnny asked, his breath tickling yn’s neck. his lips ghosting his skin. he was desperate to feel johnny, he wanted him to touch him, obliterate him, rearrange his insides. “i’ve never felt this horny before for someone” yn confessed, feeling even more shy. johnny grabbed him by his chin so he can look directly at his eyes, “me neither” he said kissing the flustered boy…

johnny guided yn towards a bathroom stall while still kissing him, his tongue wxploring the other's mouth. “just put it in, i prep myself at home” yn said in between moans. “naughty” johnny heaved. he pulls out a condom from his pocket, unwrapped it and rolled it down his big thick shaft.

“wait” yn stopped johnny from putting in, “use this” he handed johnny a little bottle of lube that one of his new friends, conveniently, gave it to him as a ‘gift’ so he can have lots of fun tonight.

johnny applied and large amount of it on the latex and on yn's hole, he slapped it a few times on the entrance and slowly put it in, inch by inch. the sex was rough, with johnny using his hands to muffle yn's moans, something that was unnecessary due to the excessive loud music outside in the club. there were times were johnny instead made yn suck his fingers as if it was his dick. every time the dj thrusted deep a bulge formed on yn's tummy, “joh-johnny you're very deep”.

yn was pressed against the stall door with his eyes rolled back, johnny was stimulating his prostate continuosly and in return he was gripping hard on johnny's meat, “you're choking my little budy down there” he put his hand on the bottom's head pushing it even more harder against the door. a smile appeared on yn's face, he loved how rough johnny was treating him. “more. more. i need moree~”.

if someone were in the bathroom right now they would think that some rabid dog would be locked in the bathroom, with the loud strange sounds and the banging against the cold metal walls. but in reality johnny was there thrashing yn around the stall, there was not a pose left for them to try or a surface that they haven't touched with their sweaty bodies. missionary, against the wall, riding, with one leg up, johnny fucking him while still grabbing him. yn's hole was already obliterated but eager to receive more.

the smell of sweat, liquor and spit make them both feel dizzy, lost in the pleasure they both craved. hickeys littered all over their collarbones, necks and torso, hell even johnny made some on yn's thigh.

the euphoric feeling made them lost trace of time and their surroundings so much that yn didn't notice that johhny's dick felt warmer and warmer by time, he could feel every vein brushing against his walls. the same happened to johnny, he felt yn's insides warmer and how they hugged his little buddy even more than before. ‘woah, condoms nowadays make you feel like you're not wearing one’ they both said it in their minds. they didn't realize the condom broke and with every thrust it slowly went down johnny’s shaft sitting in the base of it.

johnny hugged yn tightly to impale his meat even more deep and harder, “fuck yeah please like that” yn whimpered, his body squirming in pleasure. “keep doing it like that. just a bit more. yes just right there” yn said to johnny who complied to the bottom’s demands. yn came, his torso being painted in white. his body spasm with every spurt of it. he was happy, he hasn't felt this way in years, this might be the best sex of his life.

“fuck i'm gonna cum” johnny grunted, he wanted to came on yn's face but he didn't wanted to stop feeling the warm insides of the guy so ge decided to just came inside the condom. little did he knew that he was, in fact, covering those insides with his white seed. “how does it feel to have a man's seed deep inside your hole?” johnny asked nibbling on yn's neck. “it feels sticky and so wet” yn slurred, coming back from his high.

the realization hit them both right there, “what do you mean sticky and wet?” johnny looked down seeing how the broken piece of latex was on the base of his shaft while the rest of it was inside of the other, bareback. “oh god i just bred you”, “oh my god you just breed me”, johnny and yn exclaimed in unison…

they both get out of the stall, yn walked awkwardly after all his hole suffered a lot tonight. staring at themselves in the mirror with a dumbfounded expression while fixing their looks and disheveled hair. “why are we acting as if you're gonna get pregnant” johnny joked, trying to lighten the awkward atmosphere.

“johnny, it … it was the first time someone came inside me” yn looked down feeling embarrassed but once again johnny grabbed his chin to make eye contact with him “then i guess i have to take responsibility for that baby on there” he caressed yn’s stomach. they looked at each other and then exploded in laugh, “dumbass” yn blurted out hitting johnny's shoulder lightly.

“you're way cool than it thought” yn confesses “and so wild in sex, my back side hurts a bit”.

“i also think you're cool” johnny replied politely too, “if you want, come to my hotel room. i know a home remedy to ease that pain” he gripped one of his ass cheeks, “the night is still young” he wiggled his eyebrows.

yn caught what he meant and said “oh yes of course, i would like to try it. besides i kinda want other of your babies inside me”. johnny kissed him in the lips and then in the forehead, “let's make a football team then”. they left the bathroom straight to the hotel room to chase that euphoric feeling again.

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ladiesworldsblog · 3 hours ago

Text

You know, the truth hurts sometimes. And it definitely does, if you doesn’t like what you hear, from a person you’re deeply in love with.

I’d lost my heart early to that gorgeous woman, I‘d known her for a while and we dated for a while. I always wanted more from her than she wanted from me. I saw the one and only woman of my life in her, she just saw a good friend in me.

We spent some time together even after she got married to one of my rivals. My heart was already broken, but I tried to enjoy to spent my time with her as much as possible. After some drinks I finally was courageous enough to talk to her like a real man. And I dared to ask her why she chose him over me.

She tried not to start laughing and replied:

„Do you really want me to explain it? Isn’t it so obvious? Don’t be silly… everyone in town seems to know, that you’re tiny down there. You haven’t really had a girlfriend before… and may I make a guess? You’re still a virgin, huh?“

I blushed and just gave her a shy and silent nodding.

„Cute. Would be nice to be the first one, sweetie, but I‘m just playing with the big boys. You know, what I mean, right?“ She gave me that sexy naughty look… it got me excited and she knew it, she could read it in my eyes. „You won’t believe it, how good his thick cocks feels inside of my tight pussy. You have no idea, how he stretches me out. He’s an amazing guy to fuck with.“

She kept eye-contact with me, while she took off her shoes. I thought that she might want to relax a bit and her feet may hurt a bit. But she had a naughty plan in her head. Suddenly I felt her feet touching my leg under the table… while she called the waiter to make another order. As he was getting close to our table and asked for our wish, her foot reaching my crotch… slowly caressing my dick through my pants.

He waiter was experienced enough to see in my face that I got an erection, but he was professional enough to say anything about it as well. He took our order and disappeared for a while. She was teasing me harder and harder in the meantime and as the drinks arrived, I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I came. Hard. I moaned and roared. It was so obvious what just happened here.

It felt so humiliating, I got all eyes on me, I felt degraded… I blushed. But she had her beautiest smile on her face and I must have looked so cute, she gave me a big wet kiss. I ordered an Uber to get her home safely and as we sat in the backseat, she pulled down her panties underneath her skirt and gave them to me. It had a wet spot on it and she smelled so lovely and adorable.

It was her way to say goodbye, the next week she was leaving with her newlywed husband to the states.

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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 2 days ago

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Twelve Days: Part 5 **^

Here's the next part! Sorry it took so long 😭 But A LOT happens in this part and it might make y'all a little angry but I think the ending makes up for it!

Full Series Masterlist

WC: 10.5K

Warnings: Infidelity, mentions of slight germaphobia, mentions of unkept/untidy home life, fear of abandonment, sex (unprotected, penetrative), mentions of divorce.

It didn’t take as long as you had been expecting to hear back from Harry. Just another few days, you had just gotten into your car after a dinner service at a client’s home when his call came in. You were excited but feeling a bit nervous regarding the purpose of the call, it could be very casual but given the precarious situation you all found yourselves in, it could also be a call about things getting even more complicated. Regardless of what it was, you wanted to hear his voice.

“Hello?” You answered as you started to take off.

“Hi, how was your day?” He asked and you smiled.

“It was alright. And yours?” You asked.

“Busy. I had two lectures today, I’m just getting my things together before going home.” He shared.

“Okay. I am just heading home myself.” You shared.

“Good, I’m glad we get to accompany each other on our drives.” He said and you smiled.

“So how was it when you got back home?” You asked.

“We had a fight…she AirTag-ged my car.” He disclosed and your features twisted in concern.

“What?!”

“Right? Said she needed to confirm that I would go see you. I told her that I would’ve been honest about my plans if she asked.” Harry explained.

“It’s not like we did anything bad.”

“That’s what I told her. She seemed surprised for some reason.”

“Maybe because I’ve always been the more…liberated of the two.” You explained and he chuckled a bit and you smiled. “This would also disprove her theory that you’ve been spending time with me to make her jealous. I feel like that pisses her off more than anything.” You explained. “She’s always been first choice…” you said, “I get it though. She just puts herself out there more and whatnot, she’s easier to notice. I don’t mind that. I’m definitely more of a background girl, it’s where I thrive and feel comfortable so I’ve never competed her for it and I think she might…sense this…us as me trying to compete with her.” You explained.

“Well that’s shitty for me.”

“It is. And I promise you, I’m not trying to compete for you.” You assured him.

“I know, love. It just sucks thatshe is…” he said solemnly.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered.

“Don’t feel bad for me, love.” He hummed.

“I do because you don’t deserve it. No one does! I just hopes she…gets some clarity soon. This is getting so insane.” You sighed.

“I don’t want to…create a bigger divide but she’s being pretty harsh towards you. She thinks it’s stupid of me to invest all this time in you because according to her, you’re a flake.” He said and you pouted.

“A flake?” You asked for clarification, you were shocked.

“Yep…she’s just saying things at this point.”

“Yeah.” You hummed.

“Well, I’ve given her a month, in my head. To just get her ducks in a row, meet with the lawyer, figure out what she’s going to do…if she doesn’t, I’m going to talk to your parents and ask them to please…reason with her.” He shared and you hummed, “Do you think they would?” He asked you.

“I think so…they love you so much. My mom has always said you’re the son she never got to have.” You shared and he chuckled.

“Did she?”

“She did! Has actually said it on multiple occasions.” You reassured him.

“Well that does make me feel better.” He hummed.

“Good.” You grinned.

After getting that over with, it was just some light conversation about the good and bad parts of your days until he had arrived home. You were going to do some grocery shopping before getting back to your apartment but assured him you’d let him know when you’d made it home.

Thankfully, Ash hadn’t shown up again. You half expected another visit and had been feeling on edge arriving at your apartment the last few days, but with each passing day you tried to let the anxiety diminish. You were loving your quiet life alone so far. You also liked your apartment and were sad that you might have to move if he ever showed up again, but you just needed to not see him again. It was disrespectful really, his inability to honor your wishes after he had left you the way he had. You were feeling even more upset by Bea telling him where you had moved to. You let her know that what she had done was completely unacceptable and just blocked her on everything. You’d observed the way she always got a little more flirty when Ash was around but didn’t think it’d get to the point where she’d share your private information just to get on his good side. Especially when she knew you wanted nothing more to do with him. Hopefully, you’d seen the last of him so that you could actually focus on the dilemma at hand. Your sister.

You were genuinely feeling really worried over what Julie’s next steps would be. You wanted to talk to her but she wasn’t answering your calls or responding to any of your texts just yet. Of course she had the right to be angry with you, but to think you were just using Harry for attention or to make her jealous? That wasn’t in your nature at all. To call you a flake? You were steadfast as can be, she knew this. You were raised the same. You were definitely hurt by her remarks, but you founds some solace in the knowledge that she was projecting her own insecurities about Joe onto you. This was the man who she had personally told you had some commitment issues! The man who undoubtedly made his way back into her life when he saw the seemingly perfect life she was leading with Harry via her social media, through the outlet she had used to allow him back into her life.

You wanted to correct this narrative Julie had made up of you so badly because she ought to know you better than what she was choosing to believe of you. You had never had the type of sister relationship that made you best friends, like you’d mentioned to Harry, there’d always been an air of competition. Being just three years older than you, you’d coincided academically on a few occasions and you really didn’t start to “fight back” until high school. Naturally, you were a bit more likable because you were more laid back . You were great in your classes without imparting as much effort, which surprised your teachers. You soon learned that they expected you to be a little more of a wooer as she had been but when they learned you weren’t they eased up on you, the other students did too. Comparison was a killer and after one awful fight she told you that you had ruined her senior year. She had been cold towards you after that until she was off at college. And well, you decided not to go that route, you went to culinary school instead. And that gave her enough of the sense of superiority that she needed to have over you to placate her.

It had been a week after your conversation with Harry that you had your appointment with your therapist and had gotten to speak to her about what your sister had been saying and how you were feeling about it all. She had been supportive of you trying to go speak with her and so you had done just that. It was the end of her workday and though you felt like a stalker for being parked next to her car waiting for her…this was the only way you’d get anything from her. When you saw her approaching the car you hopped out of yours. As soon as she caught your gaze she noticeably became deflated.

“What are you doing here?” She asked you and you offered a slightly nervous smile.

“Hi.” You greeted Julie. “I was just hoping we could go for dinner and talk?” You asked hopefully.

“About?” She asked cooly.

“What you saw.” You said and you saw her lips purse a bit as she gnawed the inside of her cheek pensively.

“I don’t know…I mean…I know what I saw, I don’t think we need to rehash it.” She stated as she crossed her arms.

“Well you’re still not talking to me so…”

“Because you kissed my husband!” She scowled.

“I know and I’m sorry-”

“No you’re not.” She cut you off.

“I’m not sorry for kissing him. I’m sorry that my actions upset you and angered you.” You clarified.

“So you’re sorry you got caught?” She asked.

“Not necessarily…I mean, I know that you actually don’t care that I kissed him. You don’t love him, so I know that it didn’t hurt you.” You said and she glanced away, “So I’m here to figure out what exactly you’re still so offended with me over.” You said and her gaze found yours again.

“You couldn’t have gone for anyone else?” She asked.

“I didn’t go for him, Julie! We were literally just talking about the things that we were dealing with. I mean, we’ve always had a good relationship as friends, you know that! But through these experiences we’ve been through we bonded on a new level. The attraction was just…there. It wasn’t on purpose. It wasn’t a plan of any sort! And the fact that you believe I would do something like that…” you said sadly, “I’m not calculating like that. You know that. And to be quite honest with you, I feel like…your anger actually has nothing to do with me. It’s just being directed at me and that makes me upset.” You said and her jaw clenched a bit. “Well…that’s all I wanted to say so…” you trailed off and she just nodded but said nothing else.

After standing there in silence for a few seconds you just got into your car and left. You had done your part and now, the ball was in Julie’s court. You hoped that she would give what you’d said some honest thought and consideration. You had only been on the road for a few minutes when a call came in from Harry.

“Hey.” You greeted him.

“That was enthusiastic.” He chuckled sardonically and you couldn’t help but smile.

“Sorry. I’m just heading home from ambushing my sister.” You informed.

“Ah…I take it didn’t go too well?”

“Not really…” you confirmed. “She didn’t say much apart from the usual accusations of me interfering in your marriage.�� You sighed. “I also presented to her the idea that maybe the things she’s been saying of me are actually her displacing her anger with her situation with Joe onto me. That one did upset her, I saw it in her eyes.” You elaborated.

“Yeah, she doesn’t love to be in the wrong…” Harry chuckled.

“Yeah. And have you made any headway with her?”

“I don’t know…we’ll see tomorrow. She has an appointment with the lawyer. I’ve already asked mine what I can do if she refuses to sign.”

“And what did the lawyer say?”

“I can petition through the court for them to serve her the divorce papers. If she does’t sign within a certain timeline then the judge can make a default ruling to dissolve the marriage. So there is a way to proceed if she doesn’t abide by my timeline. I just…I don’t want to put her through that humiliation because the only place I know where to find her apart from our house would be her job.”

“Yeah, that’s low…” you agreed. “I mean, you can AirTag her…” you chuckled and he laughed.

“I could…that low has been reached.” He hummed in amusement. “We also have to get a court date if I go that route and who knows how long that would take.”

“Yeah…let’s just hope she does the right thing and comes around.”

“Yeah.” Harry agreed. “I’d like to see you again soon.” He said after a beat of silence.

“I’d like to see you too.” You hummed.

“Been seeing those videos of the couples painting each other…” Harry shared and you giggled.

“Is that what you want to do?”

“Yeah! I think it’d be fun, don’t you?” He asked and you giggled some more.

“Yeah, I think so too!”

“And I can cook for you this time.”

“Love that.” You hummed.

“And we can ask each other all the questions we have for each other over dinner and the painting.” He added to his suggestion.

“Yeah! That sounds like such a fun evening!” You agreed excitedly.

“Good! So let me know when you’ll have at least two days in a row off so that we can also have a little extra time the day after.”

“Okay, I’ll check my work calendar when I get home.”

“Perfect.” Harry smiled. “How are you holding up? Did Ash show up again?”

“I’m alright, still feeling a little…annoyed, I guess. But no, he didn’t come back.” You shared.

“Would you want him to come back? I mean, just so you can clear the air?”

“The more I give it some thought, not really. He’s said what he wanted to say…that he made a mistake, that he loves me and wants me back…” you said with a sarcastic, sing-song-y cadence.

“Do you want to say anything to him?”

“Just how much he hurt me but if anything, that gives him more power over me and I’d hate that.” You confessed.

“I’d hate that for you too. But if you need that for your closure then it might be worth thinking over before completely disregarding it.” Harry advised, as much as he really did hate the thought of you giving Ash another morsel of your time and attention. He wasn’t jealous, more protective than anything. You were still a shell of yourself and he hated that Ash had done that to you.

“Maybe you’re right…but I mean, just saying it out loud is enough for now.” You said, “Thank you for…making me feel comfortable and safe enough to be able to say it.” You thanked him.

“Of course, love.” Harry replied.

Harry was happy that he could make you feel safe and looked after. But he also wanted that same reassurance from you. He understood why you weren’t leaning into that

and into your feelings for him just yet though. You had every right to feel wary about what you two had going, especially with the stance Julie had taken. But that also meant that right now he had no one to really talk about his heavier and darker feelings. He knew for a fact that if he communicated that to you, you’d be there for him but he also didn’t want to overburden you while you yourself were struggling.

“And what about you? I know that maybe your feelings for Julie are not what they used to be but…it also can’t be easy for you.” You said and he bit his lip as he gave some thought to what he wanted to say.

“You’re right about that…It hasn’t been easy. I mean, because of my family and all, it’s created this…fear of being left behind.” He explained. “That weekend that I went to see you?”

“Mhmm?”

“She didn’t come home until Monday afternoon and when I got in she’d left her suitcase by the garage door and I was just filled with dread that she was leaving without saying anything to me.” He explained. “It felt…confusing…because, while I know that the love isn’t there anymore I still…invested a lot in her. In our home…”

“Yeah, I get that.” You assured him.

“And again, it was just that fear of not having a family again. That after everything I did to build a happy home life for myself, I’d still end up…alone.” He disclosed. After a few seconds of quiet he cleared his throat. “Sorry, that was a lot.”

“Don’t be. I was just…processing, empathizing…” you said and he hummed, “If anything, I’d like you to say all of this to me as it comes. You’re always here for me. I want to be here for you too.”

“I want to tell you more but I don’t want to put more on your plate.” He explained.

“I appreciate that but I am feeling better…mentally.”

“Yeah? Since when?”

“Since…you.” You said and Harry smiled.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Honest. It’s nice to have a friend and someone to care for with reciprocity.”

“It is. And for the record, I know that you’ll always be in my life. But a part of me is also scared that we won’t be able to have more down the line. Like, what if that gets ruined?”

“So my same fear?” You asked and he hummed.

“Guess so.” He confirmed.

“Well, there’ll always be space for you in my life. I mean that. I feel good when I’m with you and I can only imagine that it’ll only get better if we…are more.” You said timidly.

“I think so too.” Harry hummed and you smiled. “I understand that we both have things to heal from though and that it might take some time to get anywhere near where we might want to get eventually…” he trailed off and chuckled, “I don’t know if maybe I’m getting ahead of myself but I really like you and I like that I can fully be myself around you.” He explained.

You could feel your heart pounding so hard at what he was saying. You could feeling a warmth growing inside of you and spreading all throughout your body. This crush you had on him had you so affected. To hear him saying this was more of a relief than a cause for anxiety. You hadn’t allowed yourself to think that far out of fear that maybe it was intense for now but would fizzle out at some point down the line. But to hear him say that he wanted to give you two an honest shot when things got better, it made you feel a little less delusional. You loved his vulnerability with you. You could also be yourself around him in a way that was so pure. You knew he wouldn’t judge or make you feel bad for it. There was a baseline safety with him that helped your closeness grow quickly.

“Ummm…sorry. D-did I lose you?” He asked nervously and you shook your head quickly.

“Oh my god, no sorry! I was just…so happy to hear you say that.” You giggled.

“Thank god…” he chuckled in relief.

“So sorry.” You laughed through an apology again and he joined you as well.

“Ummm…a-are you far from Santa Barbara?” He asked and you bit your lip.

“Like…almost 30 minutes?”

“Hmmm…do you work tomorrow?”

“I actually don’t…” you shared.

“Can I come see you?” He asked.

“Now?”

“Yeah!” He chuckled, “If you don’t mind the company, it’s gonna be a long weekend. I won’t have class until next Wednesday.”

“You want to spend a whole ass week with me?”

“Yeah. If you’ll have me.” He hummed.

“What about Julie? I don’t want to instigate any bigger issues.”

“She hasn’t really been staying at the house since she returned from her weekend getaway.” Harry shared, “So…I think she’ll be fine.”

“Well then, I’d love to have you over.” You confirmed happily.

“Great! I’m just getting home so I’m gonna get showered, pack, and head over to you.”

“Perfect! See you soon!” You chirped, not even bothering to minimize your excitement.

“Alright, I’ll be seeing you soon.” Harry chuckled.

***********

It was nearing 8pm when Harry was calling to tell you he was outside of your building. You hurried down with your visitor’s badge to ensure his car was safe while parked there and soon enough you were heading back up to the warmth of your apartment.

“Have you eaten?” You asked him as he followed you in.

“Not yet. Do you want to order in?”

“We can but I’m not too hungry to be honest.” You explained.

“Has that been constant lately?” He asked as he set his luggage against your couch and his tote down on the couch.

“No, it’s actually been better. But I’m just…coming off my anxious wave after I ambushed Julie. I feel like it was alright but maybe I’ve made things worse.” You explained your concern as he came up to you and grabbed your hands.

“I get the anxiety but I must say that I’m proud of you for making an effort. And well, you know your sister, and whatever she does with what you said is out of your hands now, love. So try not to be too worried about it.” He advised you and you exhaled and nodded. “I know it’s a lot easier said than done, but you’ve said what you needed to and done your part, yeah?” He asked you and you nodded. “That’s all there is to it.” He said with an encouraging smile.

“I know…” you sighed and glanced down as his hands ran up your arms and rubbed over your shoulders soothingly a few times.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?” You asked as you turned your gaze back to him.

“I’m really proud of you for doing that. I know it wasn’t easy for you.”

“Thank you.” You whispered happily.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked next and you smirked a bit.

“Of course.” You hummed as one of his hands grabbed your chin gently and angled you up, “Kiss me whenever you want.” You said softly and he smiled.

“I don’t think you know what you’re unleashing…” he responded and you giggled.

“Show me then.” You smirked and he leaned in the rest of the way until your lips were meeting.

You loved to kiss Harry and thought of it often when you’d get lost in your day dreams. The shape of his lips fit so nicely against yours. The pressure of them pressing to your own, the eagerness and need that you could feel flooding the atmosphere between the two of you was addicting. If only he knew how much you were affected by this. Your mouth parted easily to let him in as his tongue swiped against your bottom lip. He moaned in relief in perfect unison with you when his tongue smoothed against yours. He had been longing for your taste as much as you had been longing for his. You grabbed his hands and guided them around your waist and he was quick to hug around you, pulling you even closer to his body as your kiss deepened. It was so easy to get lost in the moment with Harry. You were not sitting on your counter with him standing between your legs as you made out. His hands were up your shirt and yours were feeling over his biceps. You hadn’t ever been with someone as muscular as he was. He didn’t even have to flex for you to feel how strong and built he was.

You were suddenly startled apart by your phone ringing loudly across the counter indicating that it was time for you to begin your “no screen” time. It was easy to find yourself doom scrolling, especially when you struggled to sleep, so you’d made the resolution to cut down your screen time starting at 8pm each night.

“Can you grab it for me?” You asked Harry, your lips smearing into his as you asked your question and he nodded.

“Sure.” He responded and slid his hands from beneath your shirt and walked around the counter to grab your phone before bringing it back to you.

“Sorry, I’m trying to stop using my phone by 8pm each night.” You explained as you stopped the alarm and proceeded to turn on “Do Not Disturb” mode for the night.

“Smart!” He said as his hands landed on your thighs.

“It’s hard but research says cutting off screen time before bed helps.”

“Well, that’s true.” He assured you and you smiled. “And it’s 8 already? I should order something in.” He said before stuffing his hand down his back pocket and pulling out his phone. “Are you hungry now?” He asked you with a smirk.

“Yeah, more now.” You chuckled.

“Hungry for anything in particular?”

“Tacos?” You suggested.

“Ooh, perfect! What’s good in your area?” He asked and soon you had selected a little mom and pop, hole in the way a couple miles away that had never failed you before.

After placing the order you suggested Harry get into something more comfortable and then get settled in.

“Sorry, I don’t have any space for your toiletries.” You mumbled, “But you’re more than welcome to put your clothes in a drawer! The one of the top right should be empty.”

“It’s fine. As long as you don’t mind the bag staying up here. If not I’ll just keep it in my soot case.” He said with the Baron Trump meme accent. You looked to him and burst into laughter at this.

“I’m dead! I love that video!” You cackled.

“It’s funny!” He laughed along, “One of my students showed it to me…s’been stuck in my head ever since.” He explained with a smile.

“It is a gem…well, I don’t mind you having your things out for easier access!” You assured him.

“I’m tidy. I promise.” He chuckled and you rolled your eyes playfully. “Tell me what your pet peeves are in a shared space, so that I can avoid them.” Harry requested.

“Ummm…just don’t be gross. Ash used to do this ridiculous thing where he’d leave his dirty laundry beside the hamper…” You recalled and Harry chuckled, “That pissed me off. Like it’s right there!” You expressed.

“Yeah, that’s stupid.” He chuckled.

“Or leave his towel on the ground, like he was in a fucking hotel.”

“Oh god…” Harry grimaced, “The smell…”

“Yeah! Mildewy and ugh…thinking of it is giving me the ick.” You frowned. “One time he did not unpack it from the gym and-”

“I know where it’s going, you don’t need to tell me.” He said and you giggled.

“I discovered it, so I have to tell you.”

“Fine. Go on.”

“It grew mold. The whole bag! And who discovered it in the garage?”

“Not Ash!”

“Exactly! And it was so humid that week…God, that was horrifying. Then he had the gall to be pissed at me for throwing away his Alo gym bag…ridiculous.” You huffed.

“If he cared so much about it why did he leave it in that state? What a prick.” He said and you nodded in agreement.

“Exactly what I said…he probably left it in his trunk, encountered the smell and just left it in the garage for me to find and wash.” you rolled your eyes. “And like, he wasn’t like nasty apart from those things. Like, you could tell his mom would do those things for him and his brothers.” You explained and he nodded. “What about you?” You asked.

“Ummm… well growing up my house was very neat until my mom met that prick of a man and then it was pretty unkept. I did a lot of the cleaning up so uh…I guess just clutter and dishes in the sink. That invites ants and cockroaches, which I detest. And well, one time I was going to treat myself to some biscuits and was met with a mouse in the packet so uh… yeah, I’m a little bit of a clean freak.” He explained. You could see that when he talked about these things he got a distant look in his eyes. Like he had to remind himself that, that wasn’t his life anymore. “Also, no eating in bed.” He added, “Because that is literally inviting bugs.” He explained and you nodded.

“Noted. Though I must admit, I have eaten in bed…specially when I’ve gotten sick and no one’s around to look after me.”

“Well you’ve got me now so…no need for that.” He said and you smiled.

“Yeah.” You hummed. “But being in the valley, there are just critters around so it is important to keep things extra clean. I haven’t had any encounters, thankfully! I’m very averse to them.” You explained.

“Yeah, they’re gross.” He agreed.

“Anything else?” You asked.

“Oh! Getting on the bed in outside clothes.”

“Okay, yes!” You agreed, “There are “safe” spaces for me though, I don’t know about you? But like if I visit my parents or friends that don’t have pets, I wouldn’t mind a quick sit on my bed, not gonna roll around in it either…” you said and he chuckled, “But that’s not as gross as if I had gone out to a restaurant or the movies, for example.”

“Well, wouldn’t your car seats have all the germs from everywhere else? So when you sit in the car that gets on your clothes, even if you were in a safe space…” you pouted after he explained.

“Oh god…we could be laying in filth right now…” you said with feigned concern.

“When did you last wash your comforter?” He asked, you knew he was trying to come off pretend-horrified but his eyes said otherwise.

“I’m messing with you! Literally over the weekend. I promise!” You laughed as he looked at you skeptically.

“Pinky promise?”

“Yeah!” You said as you extended your pinky out to him and he wrapped his around yours.

“If I get pink eye, we know what happened here.” He joked and you rolled your eyes at his dramatics as he sniggered. He then interlaced his fingers with yours and just held your hand in his. You could see that there was a lot going on in his mind and you wanted to help however you could.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” You asked him tentatively.

“Tons! But ummm…time and place.” He said as he glanced down at your hands. You squeezed his hand and he glanced up at you.

“Tell me.” You insisted and he sighed.

“Just that…when your sister leaves, for good, I was thinking about how long I’d have to be alone in that house. Like…I saved up a lot for that with the hopes of having a life and a family there, you know?” You nodded in understanding. “I don’t know if I could be there as comfortably if I were alone. I’d hate to sell it but…what would be the point in keeping it?” He asked and you hummed. “And you really don’t have to say anything about it, I just…am a little nervous to be all alone again. And like, I know that I wouldn’t be totally alone, but in a way I haven’t been in a decade you know?”

“Yeah, I get that.” You assured him.

“Like things would be missing that have been there since we moved in together…half of the things would be gone…and well, I couldn’t very well ask or expect you to be able to visit as often as I’d probably like…” he added.

“I get it. It’s scary.” You said and he nodded.

“How’d you do it?” He asked and you smiled.

“Well, I’m in the middle of that and well, I am depressed!” You chuckled and he smiled, “So…still learning how to cope, I guess. This, with us? It’s helped. I don’t feel so alone anymore.” You explained.

“Good.” He hummed.

“Yeah, so if you… need me to go out there and hang out you can ask. Whatever the reason in your brain is that’s holding you back from asking me for reciprocity? It’s wrong. If being there and enjoying the home you worked so hard for is important to you, then it’s important to me too.” You assured him with a sincerity that he hadn’t seen from anyone in years and you saw his lips turn up a bit.

Harry just felt this sudden rush of warmth overcome him. He definitely wanted you over more, he just felt a little bad about it right now while things were still up in the air. He wanted to live there forever, he hadn’t committed to buying a home thinking that he would one day grow sick of it. It was heaven on earth to him. He could step out onto his balcony and see the ocean from it! Of course he had made compromises along the way to accommodate Julie like in decor, in paints, upgrades…but he still loved the house. And to know that you’d be willing to make the drive out and spend time with him there simply because he loved it and was comfortable there, well, that was almost more than he could ever ask for. So he was really glad that you had offered it.

“I’d actually really like that.” He finally said and you smiled.

“Okay. Then we’ll make it happen.” You assured him and he smiled and let go of your hand but only because he was pressing himself up to kiss you again. And as your new normal seemed to be, you got lost in it until the delivery person’s call was interrupting you.

You had initially been concerned that maybe you’d pushed him too far or said too much but by the way he was acting now, it seems you had said the correct thing. Harry was a protector, he always had been that way. He was very concerned for your sister, for you, your family… it was never in a way that made you feel incapable, but he just liked to show you all that he would take care of you all if shit hit the fan. You knew that it had been hard for him not to be able to do that for you in the last year, even when he was going through his own stuff. So now, you wanted to allow him to make up for lost time and as you had said, you wanted to reciprocate the way he made you feel and were glad that he felt like you were.

“M’afraid you’re not gonna get a turn, love…” Harry practically slurred with his cheek smushed up against your stomach. You were currently laid on the couch, longways of course, and had put on “Miss Congeniality”. But you had agreed to give each other massages. However, Harry had elected for you to massage his head and it was putting him to sleep.

You giggled, but kept on going. “S’alright.” You responded softly. You could feel him growing heavier against you. “Maybe we should move to the bed though. Don’t want you to have a rough night.” You explained.

“In a minute.” He mumbled.

“Okay.” You agreed.

Soon enough you’d made it to your bed and as soon as you got under the covers he was reaching for you and pulling you against him. You smiled as you snuggled in against him. You felt him kiss your shoulder before he exhaled and you knew it would be so easy to fall asleep tonight.

*************

When you woke up the next morning it wasn’t because of your alarm, it was just a force of habit. But you were shivering from the cold and were pleased that it was apparently raining. You could heard the soft patter against your bedroom window. And then, you heard Harry humming along to John Mayer just a few feet away in the kitchen. Despite wanting to stay tucked away in the warmth of your bed, you got up and hurried into the bathroom to relieve yourself and freshen up a little bit. When you emerged, Harry was back in bed, topless and smiling at you.

“Morning.”

“Good morning.” You smiled.

“You were snoring.”

“I was not…” you mumbled bashfully as you headed back over to the bed.

“You were! But not like, loud or scary, it was just soft.” He described with a grin. “It was cute! Like a cartoon.” He assured you and you rolled your eyes as you got back in bed. “I just put on some coffee.”

“Thanks.” You hummed as you turned on your side to face him.

“Course.”

“Now, c’mere, please. It’s cold.” You requested and he smiled and hurried over into your side.

“What do you wanna do today?” He asked.

“Be lazy.” You said and he chuckled. “I do have a client to cook for tomorrow, s’just dinner prep, so I should be back around 6-6:30 the latest.”

“Would you be up to doing something after?” He asked.

“Yeah!” You hummed.

“Something lowkey, yeah?”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” You confirmed.

“Perfect. Now, I’m gonna kiss you.” He mumbled.

He moved closer and leaned in until your lips were meeting slowly but still eager and saturated with passion. Your hand landed on his chest and slid over his shoulder, tugging him into you, inviting him to settle over you. Your legs tangled momentarily as he started to straddle you. He was holding your jaw as your kiss deepened even further. His hands were sliding up your body, dragging your top up as he went. You sat up to help him pull it off and as soon as he was able, he was back on you, his lips littering your chest in kisses and delicate but playful nicks to your breasts. Your fingers combed through his hair, relishing in the sensations he was giving you. You were absolutely desperate for him and your skin was tingling, you were desperate to feel the warmth of his hands over your arms. You wanted to kiss him again and so you tried to tug him up and he quickly got the hint and kissed up your chest, neck, and jaw before kissing you sloppily. You ground up against him to feel the bulge in his thin pajama pants against you. He grinned and ground down against you with more intent.

“Is that what you want?” He asked and you blinked up at him.

“More.” You whispered and his gaze softened.

“You sure?” He asked you and you nodded.

“Yes. Please.” You beseeched and Harry smiled before kissing you once more. In moments, he was helping you undress. You were both moving impatiently and albeit a little clumsily, but you were absolutely desperate for each other. And as his naked body hovered over yours you finally felt a little bit better. Relieved. “Please get inside me.”

“Okay.” He hummed and kissed your lips once more, “Didn’t think to bring condoms. D-do you have some?” He asked and you huffed.

“No.” You muttered in slight irritation. You hadn’t planned to ask him to have sex with you, if you had, you would have stocked up, just in case.

“Would you care if we didn’t use one?” He asked and you bit your lip pensively. “Obviously, we don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it. And well, I can go buy some really quick and give you some time t-to really think about if you really want to do this. You know, in case you maybe have s-some doubt?” He asked.

“I don’t have any doubts.” You assured him with a smile, “D-do you?” You asked and he shook his head, his little smirk mirroring your own.

“No. I can go get the condoms.” He said again and you bit your lip for a second.

“Ummm…that’s alright.” You assured him and as happy as he was to hear you say that, he gave it a few seconds to let you change your mind.

“Sure?” He asked again and you nodded.

“I’m so fucking sure.” You whispered through a nervous chuckle and he smiled and kissed you again.

“I’ll be mindful to pull out, okay?” He mumbled into your lips.

“Yeah.” You agreed as you raised your leg over his hips to give him space to get inside of you. You could feel the heat and weight of his cock pressed up against you. “I want you so bad.” You whispered.

“I do too, baby.” He hummed as he ground down, letting his cock settle between the sticky and swollen folds of your pussy. You shivered when his tip kissed at your clit with his soft thrusts. “Right there?” He asked and you nodded frantically.

“Yeah, that feels good.” You confirmed breathily and he smiled as his eyes bore into yours.

“Go on then, get what you need.” He hummed lowly and you wasted no time in grinding along with him at your desired pace. You whined lowly as you started to feel the pleasure escalating from the friction. Just when you were getting close you stopped yourself.

“Want to stop?” He asked you, looking into your eyes to ensure everything was okay.

“No, but I don’t want to come like that.” You explained a bit bashfully.

“Oh…I see.” He hummed with a smirk on his face that made you blush. “Get me inside then.” You smiled and reached down between your bodies. You grabbed a hold of his cock, he was so fucking hard. You raised your hips a bit as you guided him down to your entrance and when you felt that slight dip you rubbed him over your slit a few times. Your eyes flickered up to his only to see his brows furrowed together at the feeling of being just on the edge of slipping inside of you.

“Do it.” You whispered and he let his weight drop down to his hips and just like that he was being swallowed up by your hot and wet muscle. The two of you moaned in unison when he sunk in all the way and collided with your back wall. He held inside for a few second before groaning as he drew back and sunk in again. You exhaled shakily and grabbed his face to kiss him deeply. “Harder.” You said and he nodded before fucking into you with more force and that was absolutely what you were after. You moaned in relief and he kissed you deeply again.

“Good?” He asked.

“Yeah, it feels so good!” You whined and he hummed in satisfaction.

You were already so close, but you wanted to be closer, as close as was physically possible. You wanted to feel overwhelmed by him in the best way possible. And when he delivered his next thrust harder than before you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your mouth. Harry groaned and went again and again, relishing in the satisfied, little grunts you were making. You were absolutely drenching his cock but you couldn’t help it because he was thrusting up against the most sensational spot inside of you. It was almost too deep for you but you welcomed the feeling, you wanted to feel the ache after he was gone in a few days. And it’s almost like he could read your mind as he thrust in and held himself inside of you, grinding into you, watching as your eyes squeezed shut and you shuddered at the sensation of him fucking you that deep.

“Fuck y’feel so good!” You whimpered as you squeezed your legs around his hips and he grinned as he watched your brows pinching together.

“Not as good as you feel, baby.” He hummed lowly, “So fucking wet and hot…” he grumbled, “Shit…gonna need you so fucking badly. All the time. Gonna be dreaming of how nice it feels.” He muttered against the column of your throat.

You were completely covered in goosebumps, you were trying to stop your legs from trembling but you wouldn’t be able to hold that off for much longer. It just felt too fucking good…he was hitting a part inside of you that even had your clit tingling, if you rubbed on it, it would truly be too much. As badly as you wanted and needed to come, you wanted him to keep fucking you. For him to be your first fuck after all this time, it was well worth it. You could hear the wet squelches of your arousal slicking up his cock and helping him fit inside of you. His girth and length were to die for and absolutely addictive.

“Fuck, you’re gonna make me come!” you warned him and he grinned down at you, very pleased with himself for how fucked out he had you already.

“Already?” He gloated slightly and you smiled and nodded. Your vision was even blurry at this point as tears of ecstasy and joy welled up in your eyes. “You’re already so fucking gone f’me, S’gonna wipe you out.” He said smugly and you hummed with a slight smile.

He was right, this orgasm would absolutely ruin you and melt your brain. He was literally fucking you better, quite literally forcing your brain to flood your body with that deliciously and slightly terrifying cocktail of oxytocin and dopamine. You swore your skin was tingling, every single cell in your body was going to contribute to this orgasm. But the longer you held off the more intense everything felt. Your walls were throbbing uncontrollably and you were trying so hard to just hold off for a second to make it last longer but it made it worse, as you squeezed the deep plunges of his cock became even more pleasurable and your legs started to tremble and your breathing to shallow.

“Come on, baby. Give it t’me.” He encouraged you and you nodded before pulling him down to kiss you and as your lips met urgently in a messy kiss you started to come. You emitted these pathetic whines and whimpers you’d never ever made before as the ecstasy took over every single part of your body. You were trying not too make too much noise but you were on fire and it had never felt like that before, it was almost too much! Harry’s lips parted from yours so that you could breathe and properly release your sounds as your hips ground up into his to keep the pleasure going. One of your hands pressed down on his butt, holding him close to you and the other was tangled in the curls at the back of his head. He groaned as you squeezed hard around his cock. Your tight, hot muscles were suffocating and contracting around his girth, he nearly fucking drooled from how delicious it felt to be buried in you like this. “M’gonna come.” He panted.

“Come inside of me.” You slurred and he moaned at the mere idea of getting to flood your hot, little pussy with his sperm. He got goosebumps as he thought about how good it would feel to have you take it all. To pull out and see it dripping from your swollen and wrecked little hole only for him to push his cock back into you and get his load back into you. “Please, come in my pussy.”

“Fuck, baby…” he chuckled as he pressed his forehead to yours, “I’m gonna come so hard.” He panted, “Gonna drown your little pussy.” He mumbled as his abs started to clench and his toes to curl. And moments later he was grunting through three hard and pointed thrusts before stilling. He pressed right up against you and moaned deeply in satisfaction as he came undone. He felt his muscles spasming, struggling to hold his weight as he started to gush inside of you. You could feel the dramatic twitches of his cock lodged up deep inside of you as he filled you up, just as he promised and it was so good, his hips were moving by his own accord at this point and he was enslaved to the feeling of being inside of you, no matter how sensitive it was starting to feel for him. “Fuck…” he panted lowly.

You could feel his arms trembling and just hugged him tight, encouraging him to drop his weight over you and he did easily. Your fingers danced and tickled over the heated and slightly damp skin of his back as he came down from it. You were finding comfort in his deep inhales as he continued trying to catch his breath. After a few more moments of this he was still completely silent. You knew there was nothing wrong because he was practically melted against your body, and you smiled and kissed the top of his head as he started to sponged a few sloppy kisses along your jaw. With the little strength he had built up again, he pulled you both onto your sides. He slipped from you with the change in position but you draped your leg over his hip and his hand immediately ran up your leg soothingly while he rested his head over his other arm. You were smiling as you just watched him, he still had his eyes closed as he regulated his breathing.

“You alright there?” You inquired, your voice was a whisper but he could hear the slight hint of smugness in it.

“Just a little light headed.” He chuckled his confession and you giggled and reached for his face. You caressed the side of his face lovingly with the backs of your fingers.

“Want me t’get you some water?” You asked.

“No, stay here with me.” He responded and you smiled.

“‘Kay.” You whispered. You just watched him for a few seconds until he slowly blinked his eyes open. You smiled as he squinted a bit.

“Jesus, I’m seeing spots.” He laughed lowly through his admission and you started to giggle along with him. “Don’t laugh at me.” He griped and you leaned forward and smooched over his pouted lips.

“M’not. I’m laughing with you.” You mumbled against his mouth and he quickly kissed your lips back.

“Sure…” he hummed and finally opened his eyes and met your adoring gaze.

“We’re going again later, right?” You asked and he laughed for a moment before kissing you again and nodding.

“Oh absolutely. I might not be able to walk but it’ll be worth it.” He mumbled into your kiss-swollen lips.

“God…but good.” You giggled, completely satisfied with his response.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” He whispered and you glanced away bashfully and instead focused on the swallow tattooed over his left pectoral.

“Neither do I.” You admitted and he smiled as you leaned closer and buried your face into the crook of his neck and took a deep inhale before placing a kiss at the base of his throat.

There was only one thought at the forefront of his mind right now and it was that there was absolutely no world in which this didn’t end with him falling absolutely and hopelessly in love with you. He loved everything about you and what he’d seen of your life so far, he couldn’t wait to experience it for the rest of the days he’d be here with you.

Several Days Later…

You didn’t want to verbalize just how perfect the last several days had been with Harry in case you were to jinx it, but you were certainly thinking about it with each passing minute. You had clients that day so you had to leave Harry at your place for but it was so lovely to return to a clean home and a meal. As soon as you walked in you could smell the lingering fresh scent of cleaning products but were mostly overpowered by what you were kind of hoping was a bolognese sauce. Thankfully, you were able to make off from your last client with a little extra dessert, so you had something to contribute for tonight.

“Smell’s amazing!” You announced your arrival as you slipped out of your shoes.

Harry didn’t respond so you figured he was in the shower or something. And as you walked further in you saw that the table was set and two long stick candles were lit, giving the setting a more intimate feel. You bit your lip to hold back your excitement. It was your last night together, so you weren’t surprised that Harry was pulling out all the stops until the next time you got to be together. You headed towards your bedroom to change into a fresh and more comfortable outfit and when you stepped inside you saw Harry just standing at the window and glancing out towards the busy street below.

“Harry?” You called in question and he sniffled and turned around.

“Sorry, I was trying to collect myself-”

“What happened? What’s wrong?” You asked quickly as you let your purse drop to the floor and rushed over to him.

“Your mom called,” he said and you immediately though the worst, your heart dropped, “Julie told them that she’s pregnant.” He said and you stopped right before you reached him. Not as terrifying as you thought but still incredibly fucking awful. Your features furrowed in disappointment and your stomach turned as the information processed. Harry hurried over to you, “Baby, it’s not me. It couldn’t be, we haven’t slept together since like August!” He explained and you nodded and let him take your hands. “But they don’t know that.”

“Ask for a paternity test.” You said right away.

“I will.” He assured you. “I guess she said she wasn’t feeling well so your mom drove her to the urgent care and they found out. Your mom called me all excited about it… I just don’t want to humiliate her.” He explained.

“And that’s very noble and considerate of you, Harry. But you do realize that she’s trying to put you in an impossible position.” You said and he frowned. “You deserve to do this. To have a family on your own terms, Harry.” You said and he nodded.

“I-I don’t even know what to do about this.” He stammered, still in shock.

“This is going to sound awful but…tell your lawyer.” You said and he sighed. “She’s willing to force you into this situation when you had nothing to do with it. If she has to prove paternity she will have to be honest. She loves Joey and she did this with him, they need to figure this out together.”

“You’re right.” He conceded. “Ummm… I’m not feeling too hungry any more. I’m sorry.” He said and glanced down at the floor.

“That’s alright. I understand.” You assured him. “I also understand if you…need some space.” You said and he glanced into your eyes again.

“Yeah… I ummm…I should go.” He said and you nodded, “They’re expecting me to look after her since she isn’t feeling well. And the drive’ll help, I think.” He muttered, but he was quite absent.

“Okay.” You said softly and he just walked around you and into your closet to grab his suitcase. You just watched silently as he robotically and haphazardly just dumped his things into the luggage before shutting it and wheeling it out. You followed after him as he headed to the entrance and slipped into his sneakers.

“Harry.” You said and he glanced up at you. You could see his eyes welled up with tears. “Please be safe.” You said and he nodded before rushing out. As soon as the door shut your own tears started to trickle down your face.

You were relieved when he texted you that he’d gotten home and assured him that if he needed to talk at all that you’d be there for him. But you felt so angry at your sister for this one. How could she do this to him? It was awful and selfish behavior. You wanted to call her but this wasn’t your battle to fight.

Harry’s POV:

Harry felt completely blindsided by Isabel’s phone call about Julie. He felt sick to his stomach as he parked in the garage because Isabel was still at their house, her car was up front and he had no idea how he would swallow down all that devastation and dread he was feeling. He didn’t want to ruin Isabel’s excitement but pretending that he was happy about this…having to hold and kiss Julie, congratulate her for something he had nothing to do with, it made him sick to his stomach. He texted you to let you know that he’d made it safely and you immediately loved his message and with that he made it inside.

“Oh good! You’re home!” Isabel greeted him excitedly as soon as Harry made it inside from the garage. He put on a smile and nodded, approaching her to greet her.

“Yeah, sorry it took me a while. I was out in LA.” He explained.

“No problem, as long as you made it safe!” She said as she opened her arms and he ducked down a bit to hug her and kiss her cheek. “Congrats, mijo.” She hummed happily as she gave him a firm squeeze.

“Thank you.” He responded as they pulled away slowly.

“I’m just making her some ginger tea, she’s been very nauseous.” Isabel explained.

“Thank you, I’m gonna go see her now.”

“Yes, please!” She insisted, beaming from ear to ear and he smiled and made his way out of the kitchen.

Every step he took up towards the bedroom made him even more sick to his stomach. He hoped there was extra of that ginger tea because this was getting to be too much. When he made it to the top landing he saw the bedroom door open and he made his way over to see Julie scrolling through her phone.

“Hey.” She greeted him solemnly.

“Hi.” He said quite cooly.

“Look-”

“What the fuck is the matter with you?” He cut her off and she frowned.

“Not while my mom is here, Harry.” She sighed.

“No. We’re doing this right now.” He insisted as he pushed the door back leaving it slightly ajar.

“Then close it all the way.” She said.

“Then we won’t hear her coming. I won’t raise my voice if you don’t.” He said and she sighed. “There is no way you didn’t know.” He insisted, “When did you find out?”

“On Monday.” She said, “I missed my period last week and I took two tests on Monday. One positive and the other inconclusive. Sometimes it can be stress or other things that impact so I figured I should go and find out.”

“And you had to take your mom to do that?”

“I was scared!” She defended herself.

“Then you should’ve asked Joe.” He retorted.

“I didn’t want him to freak out!”

“But you’re okay with your mom thinking that I got you pregnant?!” He asked angrily and her eyes started welling up. “You have to tell your parents now, Julie.” He said.

“Harry, please-”

“No! I’m not going to take responsibility for this!”

“And what if he leaves me?” She asked and Harry’s eyes softened for a moment.

“I-I don’t know but you have been cheating on me for months! We haven’t slept together since last year! This has nothing to do with me, Julie!” He was trying not to raise his voice but he was so hurt and angry at her. “You don’t love me and I know for a fact you don’t want this with me.” Harry finished and she started to sniffle as her tears fell. “You have to tell your family the truth!” He urged.

“Do you know how humiliating that will be!?”

“If you had agreed to the divorce when I brought it up not as much as it might be now! If you don’t come clean to your parents about this I will involve my lawyer and demand a paternity test! And we both know what the result will be.”

“I need more time.” She said softly.

“You have until the end of the month.”

“Harry-”

“You tell them or I do.” He said sternly.

Isabel’s POV:

She hadn’t meant to eaves drop, she just wanted to come ask Julie if she would want some toast with her tea to settle her stomach when she heard the hushed argument.

“Harry, please-”

“No! I’m not going to take responsibility for this!” She heard Harry respond. She almost intervened when she heard this, feeling so much anger rising up in her at the sound of her son-in-law being so disinterested and cold after finding out he would be a father!

“And what if he leaves me?” Julie asked and she stopped from reaching for the door. She was momentarily frozen in shock as she processed Julie’s concern.

“I-I don’t know but you have been cheating on me for months! We haven’t slept together since last year! This has nothing to do with me, Julie!”

Isabel could hear it in his voice that he felt bad but if this was not his child, he truly had no obligation to her. Especially if she had been having an affair for who knows how long.

“You don’t love me and I know for a fact you don’t want this with me.” Harry added. “You have to tell your family the truth!”

“Do you know how humiliating that will be!?” Julie cried quietly and Isabel frowned and started to back away, hearing faintly about previous discussions of a divorce. This was very private and she had heard more than she probably should have.

She was completely taken by surprise and immediately felt so bad for Harry and the situation that she had unintentionally put him in. She could only imagine how devastated he felt knowing that his wife was pregnant with another man’s child. A man that might not even stick around to help her or support her with this. Obviously she would always love her daughter, but it didn’t mean that she would always support her choices and this choice…to have an extramarital affair. To not grant Harry the divorce he had seemingly asked for before when she didn’t even love him anymore. The gall to ask him to stick around if the other man didn’t… it did not sit well with her and made her feel so frustrated at her. She hoped that Julie would say something soon because there was no way she could keep quiet for too long. Harry had been so good to all of them and he did not deserve that.

FINAL PART...

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