#fic

[vanteguccir]

Roslyn | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where a storm is happening and Y/N is afraid of thunder, making her seek comfort in her best friend's brother arms, Matt.

Warning: Thunderstorm.

Requested?: Yes, by anon

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

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Nick's room was a welcoming haven for Y/N. The walls decorated with frames and posters and the rustic wooden furniture provided a feeling of security and comfort. She had spent countless nights there, in his soft, cozy bed, surrounded by the familiarity of her best friend.

However, that night, the tranquil atmosphere was abruptly interrupted by the distant roar of thunder. Y/N curled up under the sheets, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She has always been afraid of storms, ever since she was a child. The thunderous sound of thunder and the flashes of lightning in the black sky left her petrified with fear.

With each thunderclap, she could feel the anxiety building up inside her, squeezing her heart like an iron fist. Her body shook involuntarily, and she struggled to control her rapid breathing. The feeling of helplessness overwhelmed her, leaving her unable to move, as if she were trapped in an endless nightmare.

Y/N knew she needed to calm down. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to block out the frightening sound echoing through the top floor window. The girl took a deep breath, trying to find some inner peace, but fear continued to envelop her like a relentless shadow.

Deciding to seek comfort, Y/N reached out into the darkness, searching the comforting warmth of the boy beside her. She tried to shake him gently, whispering his name in an urgent tone. However, Nick remained motionless and sunk into a deep sleep, only a light mumble escaping his throat.

Frustration and despair began to build within her. She couldn't face this storm alone. The girl tried to curl up against his back, but her body exposed to the room had no effect in calming her down, Nick remaining oblivious to her silent call, lost in distant dreams.

Y/N bit her bottom lip, fighting back the tears of frustration that threatened to spill over. She felt so small and powerless in the face of the force of nature outside. The sound of thunder seemed to grow louder, echoing in her mind like a relentless reminder of her vulnerability.

With a resigned sigh, Y/N got up from the bed, determined to get help. She knew exactly where to go.

Sneaking out the white door and down the stairs, careful not to make any loud sound, Y/N arrived at Matt's bedroom door, knocking softly on the wooden surface. She waited for a moment, her heart beating nervously in her chest as her right leg bounced incessantly in anxiety until she finally heard a sleepy murmur coming from inside the room.

The door slowly opened, revealing Matt's silhouette on the threshold. His eyes were downcast and sleepy, his brow furrowed in confusion and anger at being woken up, but his expression immediately brightened upon seeing Y/N standing there.

"Y/N, hey, what are you doing here? Are you okay?" Matt asked, his voice soft and concerned as his eyes took in the way her body was shaking.

Y/N swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to escape. She moved slightly closer to Matt, her arms crossed tightly against her chest, seeking the comfort she so desperately needed.

"I... I can't sleep with this storm, Matt. I'm so scared, and Nick won't wake up." The girl confessed in a shaky whisper, her chest burning with embarrassment for waking him up with something so... trivial. "I'm sorry for-"

Without hesitation, Matt wrapped Y/N in a comforting hug, interrupting her sentence while pulling her closer and holding her firmly against his chest, his arms wrapping around her shoulders with just the right amount of strength. He could feel the tremors that ran through her body, almost sensing the palpable fear that consumed her insides.

"It's okay, sweet girl. I'm here now." Matt whispered, gently stroking the girl's hair with his right hand. His presence was like a balm to Y/N's grief-stricken soul, slowly dispelling the shadows of her fear. "Come on."

The boy took a few steps back, eventually pulling her along before slowly closing the door. He kept his left arm firmly around her shoulders as he straightened his posture, beginning his slow steps towards his unmade bed.

With his free hand, the brunette pulled the duvet down before gently guiding Y/N to the mattress, helping her lie down on the side he didn't sleep on. He adjusted the strands of her loose hair so that they were not on her face, watching her eyes blink slowly in sleep, her eyelashes trembling with each thunderclap.

Matt quickly walked over to his own side of the bed, laying down on the still warm surface, right where he was previously lying, before pulling the duvet up, tucking it tightly around Y/N's body so that not a piece of her skin covered by thin pajamas would be exposed to the freezing air.

He laid down on his side and rested his head on his pillow, extending his left arm - which was against the mattress - and, with his free hand, gently pulled Y/N, encouraging her to get closer. The girl quickly got the message, pressing her cold body against Matt's warm one and laying her head on his outstretched bicep, her legs shrinking and her knees pressing against the boy's abdomen, a sigh of relief escaping her nose almost instantly.

Matt encircled her torso with his right arm, bringing her closer - if that was possible - and lowering his face, sealing Y/N's forehead with his lips tenderly, conveying a sense of safety and protection that she so desperately craved. The brunette caressed the warm skin of her face with the tip of his nose gently, whispering small words of affection and reassurance, muffling the sound of thunder against Y/N's ears while his hands caressed the back of her shoulders.

As the night progressed, Y/N gradually felt calmer and more serene in Matt's arms. The sound of thunder still echoed in the distance, but now she was no longer alone.

"Thank you, Matty." Her voice, now sleepy and low, came out of her mouth in a whisper, her eyes gradually closing as the sound of slow breathing and rhythmic heartbeats that echoed from the his larger body acted as a natural tranquilizer for her.

"Anything for you, petal."

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My requests are closed, but my asks are always open ♡

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @watermelonreid @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #x reader #sturniolo #fanfic #fic #fanfiction #fiction #imagine #oneshot #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader fluff #matt sturniolo x yn #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt x reader #matt au #matt fanfic #matty #fluff #nick sturniolo x bff reader #thunderstorm

[eggcats]

Yes, Alastor not getting innuendos and such is funny, but he understands when Angel hits on him. I think he understands it all, he just isn't interested.

Y'know what would be funnier? LUCIFER not understanding what he's saying because Angel is teaching him all the slang he missed during his like 200 years away, and Alastor has to keep a straight face whenever Lucifer unintentionally hits on him.

Angel is absolutely doing it on purpose. Alastor can't say anything because it's more embarrassing to TELL Lucifer what he's saying rather than try his best to just ignore it.

(The first time Lucifer angrily came up to him, and LOUDLY told him that he was going to eat his ass, Alastor about had an aneurysm. It was only when Lucifer KEPT yelling at him for storing his dead deer in the communal fridge (where else would he put his lunch????!) that Alastor realized what he meant. Poor man had a whole panic that they had somehow speedran an enemies to lovers story without him even realizing for about 5 seconds.)

#hazbin hotel #alastor #lucifer morningstar #radioapple #duckiedeer #hazbin alastor #hazbin lucifer #fic #mine

[scarletwinterxx]

morning with birthday boy - dad jeno scenario

Helllloooooo so i got this request for our birthday boy🥺🤍 extra fluffy for this very special day. Hope you like it!!!

omggg pls pls make a jeno dad scenario for his birthday, maybw surprising him or something ?? 🥹🥹🥹 imagine him having a son who looks exactly like him when he was a kid 😭😭

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

and if you want, u can buy me coffee(totally optional but any donation is very much appreciated!) thank you🥺💛

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2024 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(pics not mine, credits to rightful owner)

You and your son woke up early to make birthday pancakes for the birthday boy. It's a tradition that started years ago when you and Jeno started dating, he knew you loved pancakes so he took you out for breakfast and surprised you with a tall stack of your favorite pancake with a pink candle on top.

Now years later, here you are in your kitchen cooking pancakes with your son, Geonu, about to surprise your husband.

Geonu, now two years old, is at that age where you can let him join the fun. You love cooking and baking so usually he'd be right beside you as your little helper.

"Mommy, owy" his term for chocolate, pointing at the bowl of chocolate chips

"Want to put the choco chips? Okay, you do it like this" you carry him up, showing how and where to sprinkle it. You let him get a handful before you do the same, a few got stuck between his fingers and he immediately taste it

"You silly boy, you only wanted to get the chocolate huh" you tickle him, eliciting giggles from your little boy. Geonu is a splitting imagine of Jeno, when he was born and Jeno's mom said he look3d exactly like Jeno when he was born. And as the years passed by Geonu's showing more resemblance with his father.

Your favorite one being their identical eye smile.

You finish cooking the pancakes, fixing a stack to surprise Jeno with. Carrying the plate in one hand and Geonu with your other.

Opening your bedroom door, you see your husband still fast asleep. His bare back towards the door, you set Geonu on the bed and he immediately crawls towards his dad. Climbing on his back and laying his head right on Jeno's head.

Jeno feels something on his cheek, something settles on his back too. After a few seconds he can feel something wet on his cheek, a tiny voice gurggling.

A smile appears on his face before he could even open his eyes. He peaks with one eye, turning to see you at the edge of the mattress with a plate of pancakes and his son giving him his morning kisses

"Good morning, happy birthday baby" you tell him. He carefully move Geonu from his back to his lap, sitting up to blow the candle

"Geonu, let's make a wish. Okay 1 2 3" the little boy blowing the candle with Jeno, you sit infront your boys watching them with smitten eyes

"Thank you, baby" he tells you, leaning over to give you a kiss

"So how does it feel to be a year older?"

"I'm only a few months older, this would be you soon" he teases you back

One of many birthdays you've celebrated together and now you have your little bundle of joy to celebrate with. There's really nothing Jeno would wish for, he already has everything he needs. He used to wonder if settling down was something he'd do, he didn't really see himself as a family man. He's fine being on his own until he met you.

Ever since then, there isn't a moment he wanted to be alone ever again. He knew he was going to spend the rest of his birthdays with you the moment you smiled so big at him at that breakfast diner a few years ago.

He finally knew what real contentment feels and it's this. Mornings with you and the little boy who is equal parts of him and you. Celebrating birthdays with a tradition the two of you made.

"Let's have breakfast downstairs, I made eggs and bacon and coffee" you tell him, getting Geonu from then standing up from the bed.

Jeno sets the plate down on the bedside table before giving you a hug by the waist. Your hand finds his hair, giving him a half hug.

"I love you so so so much" he mumbles, looking up at you

You lean down to kiss him again, after a few seconds you feel a hand separate the two of you making the two of you laugh

"Uhhhh what is this? She's mine before she was yours" Jeno tells his son, giving his tummy tickles.

"Okay okay let's go get breakfast, we have a full day ahead. You go get dressed" you tell Jeno, knowing full well what's underneath the sheets

He smirks at you, waving as you walk out the door

After a few seconds you peak your head by the door, "I love you too" you say then you walk away. Jeno smiles, his eyes disappearing as the familiar feelings envelops him again. Like he's falling inlove with you for the first time again.

#fic #story #fanfic #story request #nct request #nct #nct imagine #nct imagines #nct fluff #nct scenario #nct 127 #nct au #nct oneshot #nct jeno #jeno imagine #jeno scenario #jeno dad #jeno fluff #jeno au #jeno x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: yo, work is driving me nuts.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Lady Jazlene, a queen by marriage, cries herself to sleep. You stay until she snores and snuff the candle as you leave her on her stomach atop the stuffed mattress. You emerge between the guards and wonder if they keep people out or keep her in. 

They don’t react to you. No one really does. A shadow approaches. The thickset man grunts at you as the moonlight shines off his dark mail. Bryce waits patiently as you near him. He turns and walks beside you in silence. 

Much of the camp is asleep. The only fires that remain are those of the soldiers on watch for marauders and bandits. Your soles kick loose pebbles and trample flattened grass further. You yawn as you reach the luggage carts and find the one you rode in. The grey horse is tie to the axle, dozing on its feet with puffing nostrils. 

“The road will not get any less turbulent,” Bryce warns as he grabs his bedroll from across his mount’s rump. “You will need sleep, maid.” 

“Thank you, sir,” you lift the canvas draped over the back of the wagon. 

He grumbles and unfurls his roll across the dirt. You climb up and nestle down beneath the cover, pressed against a chest as you curl up. You hear the soldier lay down with a groan, “...too sweet...” 

You close your eyes and rest your head on a bent arm. The darkness quickly swallows you up into slumber and the day fades into obscurity. You’re not conscious long enough to dread the one ahead. 

As the sun rises, heat gathers in the cart. You wake in a damp sweat, nearly suffocating as you gulp up cool air. You slip down onto your feet and grab onto the cart to keep from stumbling. Bryce grunts as your soles crunch on the ground. 

“Eh, where’re you off to?” He sneers. 

You look down at him. His eyes are still closed as his grey steed sniffs at the dirt close to him. 

“Sir, I... I haven’t... relieved myself since... erm, well...” 

“Go on, but not too far,” he opens his eyes and sits up. “Holler if you meet trouble.” 

The horse huffs into his steely hair and he pets its nose. He grabs onto its reins and hauls himself up. You quickly spin and flit away. You go off into the brush where its thick and squat down, your skirts gathered above your knees. You miss the springs behind the castle where you would bathe with the other maids, you could use a wash now. 

You finish up and peer over the stretch of bodies, horses, and carts. You set off back toward the cart and as you come in sight of Bryce, he unties a dented kettle from his saddles. You feel much better without the pressure beneath your guts.  

“I could fetch water,” you offer. 

He looks over his shoulder. You think you surprised him. 

“Quiet mouse,” he mutters and faces you, gripping the bent handle, “I can manage a potful of water.” 

“Yes, sir, I only was being helpful.” 

“You stay, take Daisy to find some fresh grass,” he points to the horse. 

“Daisy?” You look at the beast, “is that her name?” 

He shrugs and stalks off. You go to the reins and loose them. You glance around and lead her over to an unyellowed swath of grass. She dips her long neck and grazes, tearing the strands noisily as her teeth clack. You pet her ear as she comes rather close to the hem of your skirt. 

Heavy steps tramp up behind you. You don’t bother looking as you assume it’s Bryce. Those who are stirring are barely able to lift themselves out of their rolls. The lazy rise of dawn does not inspire fastidiousness as the clouds haze amber and rose. 

“Fine horse,” the king’s timbre rumbles over you. 

You turn and bow your head, “your highness.” 

He inhales through his nose before he speaks again, “are you a fast rider?” 

“I’ve never... I don’t ride, your highness,” you reply, staring at his black mail, just at the center of his chest. “It isn’t my horse.” 

“I know it, I thought perhaps...” he begins and shifts his weight in his boots, “you might’ve secreted away the mare. That you would be sick for your home.” 

“Your highness? No, I wouldn’t--” You put your hand to your apron, “I am not a thief.” 

He pauses and his thick fingers toy with his belt, fiddling with a leather purse, “that isn’t what I...” he blows out in exasperation, “I do not think you dishonest. In fact, you are the most honest creature I’ve met around here.” 

You keep your eyes down, “I only mean to feed the horse.” 

“Yes, I believe you,” he assures, his tone glum, “forgive my inference. Truly, it wasn’t intended as such.” 

“I understand, your highness,” you say. 

“It was a jape, a poor one, I suppose,” he hooks his thumb in his belt and turns to pace. “I wanted to thank you. I have yet to figure out how to handle Lady Jazlene but you keeping her company, I do appreciate it.” He stops and crosses his arms as he faces you again, “last night, what you heard and saw... we are strangers still, her and I.” 

“I am a maid, your highness, I serve the lady and you now,” you reply, “that’s all I do.” 

His arms bulge before he drops them, “yes, I suppose for you, the matters of nobility are dull.” 

“It is not of my concern, your highness,” you say, “I am to see that all the wine and food and little things are taken care of.”  

You peer up at the sky as the dimness slowly recedes. His figure looms below and he slowly treads closer. You squeeze the reins. 

“You serve the queen, the king, and... a horse,” he reaches to touch its snout, dragging his knuckles along its grey fur. “Make certain we are fed and content.” 

“Whatever is needed, your highness,” you answer and watch his hand stroke the horse. 

“And what do you need?” He asks. 

You quork your head and stick out your lip. It's an odd question. You have what you need. You have a place in the cart, you have some nuts left over from Bryce’s generosity, and you have some hours sleep behind you. 

“Nothing, I think,” you say. 

He scratches behind the horse’s ear, “and what do you want?” 

You purse your lips. You think. Another strange inquiry. What should you want? That’s not something anyone ever worried for. You only troubled after what others wanted. 

“I... I want to see the snow,” you say at last, “I think I dreamt of it but I can’t remember. I don’t really know what it would look like but I remember once Merinda spoke of it. She knew a stable hand who once lived in the north.” 

He’s quiet. Your answer isn’t very interesting. To him, the snows must be so tedious. Nothing more than ordinary. He makes a clicking noise. 

“I want to see the snow too,” he pulls his hand away from the horse and for a moment, he seems to reach for you, recoiling short of touching your grasp on the reins. He withdraws and presses his thumb to his teeth. He hums. “We have far to go before the snow...” he rasps, “should you require anything for the road ahead, you may ask.” 

“That is kind, your highness, but I don’t expect I require much,” you assure, “thank you.” 

“Mmm,” he drones as he faces the sunrise and sets his posture, “onward.” 

He marches away as you stay and watch Daisy munch on the grass. You comb your fingers through her main, loosening the tangles. When another approaches, you glance over. Bryce tidies his own hair with his hands. 

“Water is boiling, maid,” he declares, “I have some spare mint leaf for tea.” 

“Yes, sir, thank you,” you smile down at Daisy and move out of reach of her teeth. “I will stay with the horse until she is done.” 

“Hm, aye, I understand,” his forehead lines, “she is much more pleasant than I.” 

He nods and turns back the way he came. You watch after him as he goes to sit before the hanging kettle, a low flame burning beneath it. He rolls his shoulders and hunches forward as he plants his elbows on his knees. These people of the Hinterlands are not so cold as they pretend. 

⚔️

The long train continues through the lands. Some days slower than others. There are some where progress stops at midday in favour of passing through a village or approaching a nearby farm. The king departs from the larger party, riding with his soldiers to greet the commonfolk. Lady Jazlene refuses to accompany her husband in favour of her silk tent and wine. 

The pauses in your trek makes you curious; you only ever heard of King Waleran showing his face to the citizens during the harvest festivals and self-aggrandizing ceremonies. You never saw the king yourself, only heard Lord Dustan and his wife resentfully complain of how the king never made the journey to Debray. Did he not recall that once a duchess was married to his great-uncle? 

You spend the hours in Jazlene’s company. She wants her wine and mutton. You notice that her appetite for the former has grown since the first day’s travel. She even requested that some casks be sought during one of the king’s visits. He acted as if he did not hear her entreaty. Their few encounters since that first night have been terse and short, neither offering much more than a word or two. 

The queen swirls her cup, watching the motion of the wine within. She giggles and puts it down, picking up the looking glass and admiring herself. She sits on a wooden stool, her skirts dusted with the dirt of the road. Despite the filth, she insists on sporting a new gown each day, no matter how extravagant. 

“What a fool? To think he is wasting his time on commoners,” she trills, “you know, he should be here, worried about his wife and queen. Not married a week and all we’ve done is ride anon. I’ve had no wedding, no feast. How I am neglected for these dirty farmers.” 

You say nothing. You’re not certain she recalls you’re there. She speaks to herself often as if her mother is there. A few times, she has even called for the duchess. Often when she’s nearly finished the bottle. 

She pouts and sniffs. She drains the cup completely and puts it down heavily on the crate next to her. She grips the mirror with both hands and looks at her reflection. She contorts her face, sucking in her cheeks, pushing out her lips, turning her head this way and that. 

“Aren’t I beautiful?” She nearly whispers. You don’t flinch. You stare at your hem. She sighs and stomps her foot, “I’m asking you!” 

You peek up at her, surprised.  

“Yes, your highness, you are very beautiful.” 

She frowns, “you lie to me.” 

“I wouldn’t lie, your highness.” 

“Don’t argue with me,” she snarls and slams the mirror down, cracking the glass on the crate. She stands and blusters around, her skirts catching between her legs, “if I am beautiful, what makes me so, hm? Tell me!” 

You stare at her. She is beautiful. You always thought so.  

“Your hair, your curls, your highness, they are beautiful.” 

She rolls her eyes, “just my hair?” 

She wobbles slightly as she struts towards you. 

“Your eyes. They are pretty too. And you have a nicely set nose. And your lips are finely curved, your highness,” you explain as she looms closer and closer. 

“Hmph,” she stops, slouching drunkenly as she leans in to consider you, “of course you would say so. Look at you. So plain. An ugly handmaid.” 

You stare back at her, a strike in your chest, then drop your gaze. It is the wine. She huffs, her alcohol-laden breath tinging your nose. 

“The king,” she babbles as she turns on her heels, swaying dangerously, “we’ve only lain together our first night. It was... quick. He didn’t want me to sleep with him,” she raises a hand and flutters her fingers, “he shooed me away like some whore.” She spins and falls onto the stool, “if I am so beautiful, why does he not want me?” 

You watch her. She isn’t looking for your answer. She’s talking to talk. Lady Rezlyn isn’t there so she has only herself and stagnant air trapped in the tent. 

“It is my duty to have his babies. To give him heirs. I cannot do that if he will not touch me. But perhaps when are in one place, he might try again,” she smiles and lifts the broken mirror. She tilts it and lets her hand drift down to your bodice. She pushes her chest up, “when he lets me take this off, he will see. He will want me.” 

She convinces herself as she preens at her reflection, “perhaps it won’t hurt.” She looks around and sees the bottle of wine. She grabs it by the neck. She grips it and wiggles it at you in the air. “He’s even thicker than this,” she puts the mirror down and balances the bottle on her palm as she circles her fingers around the bottom of the bottles neck, just before it rounds out, “and longer.” 

You stare at the silk wall, mortified by her words. She giggles and the movement of her hand draws your eyes up. You watch from under your lashes as she brings her hands up and down the bottle neck. 

“Mother says, just like this,” she pumps it, “that he should like it very much.” She stops and focuses on the bottle, “mmm, he is a man underneath it all.” She tosses the bottle away, “and I am a beautiful woman. He will want me.” 

You lower your eyes again and twine your fingers together. You can’t help but feel bad for her. You only wish you had some words of wisdom or comfort to offer her. Or that she would hear them. You can’t help but touch the fading bruise along your stomach as you languish in the tepid silence. It’s better to let her forget you. 

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #series #au #medieval au #the witcher #winter's king #dark fic #dark!fic

[hotchnisslvr]

how do we carry on?

pairing: hotch x bau!reader

rating: m

word count: 4.8k

genre: angst, hurt no comfort

summary: emily was your confidant, your best friend. when she dies at the hands of ian doyle, you find comfort in your boyfriend, aaron. when you find out that she’s alive and that hotch had known all along, your world falls out from under you. can you and hotch come back from the decision he made for the good of the team?

*if this gains enough traction i might follow up with a pt.2 to give it a happy ending*

The criss-crossed lines of the tile floor blur together as you stare blankly between your feet. The tops of your thighs have gone numb from digging your elbows into them, using your cradled hands as a pillow for your forehead. You couldn’t go home, not until you knew.

Rossi had offered to go on a walk and get a coffee, but shitty lukewarm hospital coffee was the last thing you needed. You hadn’t meant to write him off, you just couldn’t justify doing anything to distract from the fact that she was on that operating table, that Emily’s life was literally hanging in the balance.

The rest of the team was no better off than you are right now. Penelope’s knitting needles clack relentlessly, the scarf inside of her purse growing as her hands keep busy so her mind doesn’t focus on how hard she’s trying not to cry. The last time you’d poked your head up, Derek hadn’t moved from the waiting room windowsill where he’d been standing still as a statue staring out at the cityscape. If Spencer didn’t stop shaking his leg, you feared he would wear a hole straight through the tile. JJ exits the waiting room as often as she returns, her liaising days quickly coming back, making her their only link to the operating room. Hotch’s behavior is no different. His cell rings every ten to fifteen minutes, no doubt the Bureau wanting to know how the hell this could happen. It’s the only sign that time is actually passing and you’re forced to accept that you’re not stuck in some fucked up purgatory-esque hellscape where time stands still, torturing you as your dear friend’s life teeters between worlds.

What you wanted, what you needed was for him to hold you; to place a kiss against your temple and tell you that everything would be alright. It had to be alright.

He couldn’t show favor to you though, not now. The team didn’t know about your relationship with him, though you believe a few have their suspicions. You’re all too observant for your own good. Not much goes unnoticed by anyone. So when JJ walks back into the waiting room, everyone shifts toward her to try and get a glimpse into her facial expression and body language for any sign of an update regarding Emily’s condition.

Instantly, you know something is wrong. JJ’s eyes flit from one person to the next, not lingering very long on anyone. Spencer is the first to stand and you follow suit. You close in, forming a small half circle. Behind JJ, Hotch stands in the doorway, brow straight as he folds his arms across his chest.

“JJ?” Her name is an anxious plea on Penelope’s lips.

JJ’s eyes drop to the floor as she presses her lips together. She takes a deep breath and lifts her eyes, yours the ones they land on as she speaks. “She never made it off the table.”

A choked sob echoes from Garcia as she falls into Derek’s arms, his features fixed as he stares ahead though his knuckles flush white as he holds tightly onto Penelope. Rossi pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed as he mutters something to himself; a prayer, maybe. Spencer envelopes JJ in a desperate embrace, as if clinging to her will somehow make her words any less true. Afterall, how can they be? Emily can’t go down, not like this; not after all she’s survived.

Someone says your name. Your brow dips, but you don’t respond. You need to see Emily. Your feet move of their own accord, guiding you through the waiting room. Someone grabs your arm and you tug away from their grasp, set on pushing onward and finding the OR.

Someone repeats your name, and you can’t help but latch on to the deep tenor that belongs to Hotch. You halt in your tracks and close your eyes, tears leaking over your eyelids and down your cheeks.

“I need to talk to Emily,” you say, your voice small.

The way Hotch says your name is laced with pity and you hate the way it sounds on his tongue. He pulls gently on your arm in an attempt to reel you into him, but you resist. You bite your lip to still its trembling. Yanking your arm free, you press on into the hallway and stumble toward the double doors that read in bold letters: Authorized Personnel Only. Fuck that. You’ve got a badge, that’s authority enough. Before you can push through, firm hands twist around your arms.

You push back, but their grip tightens. “Stop,” Hotch urges authoritatively. You turn into him and pound your fist against his chest, a sob cracking free from your mouth. “She’s not gone,” you cry. “She’s not gone. She’s not—” Your legs tremble with the wave of grief that crashes over you and you can’t hold your weight as it does so. Falling to your knees, Hotch reacts. His arms fold around your waist, catching you as you collapse into the wide plane of his chest. Your ribs ache as your lungs inflate with each rapid, sobbing breath. Your vision turns fuzzy at the edges as you try and fail to slow your breathing. It feels like you’re dying as the waves of grief assail you over and over again, battering you, body and mind, in an unrelenting tumultuous current of sorrow and pain as the wicked reality sets in. Emily is dead. You barely feel Hotch’s hand in your hair cradling you against him. As he murmurs apologies and sympathies in your ear, you don’t see the weighted look he exchanges with JJ.

•

The funeral comes and goes. The day is too beautiful for Emily not to be there to see it. You sit on the porch at Hotch’s house, breathing in and out as you watch the daffodils dance in the afternoon breeze. You smooth the fabric of your dress down over your knees, the satin wrinkled from the way you clenched it during the service.

Your phone buzzes in your purse. The number of messages and phone calls you’d ignored continues to rise, but you can’t bring yourself to express any gratitude for their condolences. You can’t bring yourself to feel anything except the crushing weight of grief.

You picture Emily sitting beside you on the wooden porch swing. Last Summer, you’d sat here with her as the team gathered for a Fourth of July Barbecue. Jack had made invitations and delivered them to the team at the office. He’d been so excited and so were you. It was around then that you and Hotch had begun to toe the line between colleagues and something more; a morning coffee dropped off at your desk here, an extra visit to his office there. You’d sat here with Emily watching as Rossi backseat barbecued Hotch on the grill. She’d caught you smiling at him alongside the fondness in your gaze. She’d clocked you from a mile away.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad.” Her laugh had tinkled from lips, ringing like a morning bell.

“What are you talking about?” you’d asked, trying and failing to school your features into a mask of indifference.

“I’ll tell ya, it’s a big swing, but if you hit it, that’s a home run for sure.”

You’d nearly choked on your lemonade, coughing and gasping; drawing the attention of the others.

“Wrong pipe!” Emily had called while pointing at you and clapping a hand against your back. “She’s good!” In a low voice she’d added, “Though I’m sure with him, it’d be just the right pipe.”

You’d elbowed her in the ribs and bust out laughing together. For the longest time after that, she’d been the only person that you’d confided in about your burgeoning feelings and relationship with Aaron. Through that, she’d quickly become your closest friend on the team.

A couple of kids shout at one another, laughing, as they ride past the house on their bicycles; shattering the memory. You dip into your purse and withdraw your phone, pressing a button and powering it down. The screen door creaks on its hinges and Hotch steps down onto the porch, the planks shifting beneath his weight. He sits beside you and offers you a mug. The scent of coffee reaches your nose and you accept it, thanking him quietly. Aaron had taken his suit jacket off and loosened his tie. He stretches an arm around your shoulder and draws closer to you. He kisses the side of your face and stares out at the yard.

“It was a beautiful service,” he offers.

“Aaron, don’t.” You close your eyes and take a breath. You hold the coffee with both hands, rubbing your thumbs up and down the warm ceramic. “Please don’t make small talk with me about this like it’s all so fucking normal.”

He sighs and apologizes. “I just wish I could make all of your hurt go away.”

A shudder runs through you and you nestle in closer to him, taking a sip of your coffee as you do so. “I don’t think it’ll ever go away.”

•

Her brown eyes stare back at you, though the photo paper could never capture the light that flared within them when she was alive. Of all the faces you could have seen up on this wall, you’d never anticipated hers being one of them.

Every day you stop by her portrait on the wall of fallen heroes. People talk about her less and less around the office. The team doesn’t stop, though your conversations are stilted and often end in awkward silences; no one really knowing how to carry on once the conversation slows to a natural end. You speak often with Spencer about the ways in which you’ve been grieving, the sleepless nights and early mornings. Derek is reserved. He’s angry above anything else. He feels betrayed by Emily and a part of you understands that. She’d not told any of you after all. You’d be remiss if you’d not also spent some of your time grieving in anger. Of all the times you’d stayed late after work, gotten together to hang out on weekends, or gone out for drinks, she had never indicated anything was wrong. You had told her everything, confided every one of your fears and hopes into her and you’d thought that the street had been going both ways. God, you’d never been so wrong.

“Conference room in fifteen,” Aaron says as he walks past you, hand grazing your back as he does so.

You smile tightly and nod, glancing once more at Emily’s photo before making your way to your desk in the bullpen, ignoring the fact hers still sits empty and unoccupied beside yours. How has it been three months already?

•

“Emily!”

Your eyes dart around the room frantically searching as your heart thunders in your ears. You feel the organ pounding against your ribcage, threatening to break free of it. It only takes a second for you to realize it had been a dream.

Aaron rolls over and sits up, threading an arm around your back and rubbing your hip with his fingers. “Another nightmare?” he asks, words tinged with sleepiness.

You nod, yawning as you rub your eyes. The dreams are further apart, but at least every other week her face haunts your subconscious. You can’t help but wonder if it’s some sort of self-punishment as life goes on and the days get easier.

In reality, you don’t know if it’s easier or if you’ve just forced yourself to become numb to it all, compartmentalizing the pain of losing your best friend because if you didn’t you don’t think you’d be able to leave the house and do what you do day after day.

“Are the appointments with the therapist helping?” he asks.

Another question you don’t know the answer to. On some level, yes. Talking to someone who knows nothing about you or her or anyone else on the team is good. You don’t have to walk on eggshells, worried you're going to dig open a wound the others are equally fighting to heal by talking about her or how much you miss her or wish she was here. On another level, you don’t open up fully to the doctor. There are some layers of this injury you don’t want to see heal and scar over. If you do that, it’s like you’re telling Emily that you’re over her death, as if it’s something as easy as that, something you just get over. No, some things need to stay fresh, to serve as a reminder that Ian Doyle is still out there. The man who took your best friend away from you and your BAU family is breathing and she’s not. You clench your fists, the sheets balling up in your hands as your resentment burns deep inside you. Yes, that’s it, the idea of him walking around thinking he’s gotten away with this is enough to stoke the flames simmering deep inside you.

You take a deep breath, mentally imagining the flames subsiding, and they do. They dial down, but they don’t disappear. You glance down at Aaron, who snores softly beside you. His fingers still curl around your hip and a faint smile graces your lips. He tries, you know he does, but this is exhausting for everyone. He bears the brunt of it at the office. He fought to be the one to meet with the team and conduct the grief interviews, not wanting a stranger to come in and sift through your friends’ and colleagues’ pain over what happened. God knows how much bureaucratic red tape he had gotten tangled in right after the fact, the higher ups demanding how such a blunder could occur right under their noses. Aaron had put out the fires though, as he always did. Reaching around his back, you withdraw his hand from your hip and tuck it by his side, not before pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

You glance at the clock before lying back down. 4:15AM blinks back at you on the digital clock face. In forty five minutes the alarm will go off and it’ll be another day at the office. Settling down into the pillows, you press your back into Aaron’s body, yours molding against the planes of his as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

His arms slinks around your waist and pulls you in as if you can get any closer than you already are. He tucks his chin over your shoulder and his lips brush against your jawline.

“I love you,” he whispers and you relax into the safety of his embrace.

“I love you, too, Aaron.”

•

Nights are hard when Aaron is gone. Pakistan is nine hours ahead and all Hotch has to communicate with anyone is a satellite phone, the number for which you don’t have access to. Whenever Hotch calls, the caller ID flashes the word ‘Unknown’ across your screen. There have been several times you’ve missed him due to being asleep or at work. Each call missed feels like being sucker punched. Every time you talk, a part of you worries it’ll be the last time. You didn’t use to have this fear, not until Emily. Despite staring death in the face on a week by week basis, most of the time playing Russian Roulette with the Grim Reaper himself in each unsub you cross paths with, somehow you never thought he’d actually take someone you love from you; that he’d take down one of the team. You never thought there’d be a last conversation with Emily, and now she’s dead.

Dead. The word is a heavy stone, sinking from the cusps of your mind to the pit of your stomach. It sits there, a persistent ache idling deep inside of you. It never relents and it never allows you to forget.

There are nights you dream that Aaron is dead too, that somewhere far away and beyond your control, he’s dying on the ground, bleeding out, and no one knows. You don’t even know what he’s working on and he can’t say; despite your relationship there are still levels in which Hotch’s clearance supersedes your own and the need-to-know red tape keeps you out. Afraid to close your eyes and dream of his unseeing, you stare at the blades of the ceiling fan whirling lazily overhead of the bed you usually share with him.

“I miss you,” you whisper to no one; and you don’t know who you’re talking to anymore.

•

“He’s back?” your heart flutters in your chest, equal parts excited and anxious at the prospect of Aaron’s sudden return. You push off your desk and swivel in your chair to stand, rushing down the hall and leaving Reid behind as you make your way hastily to the conference room.

The door is cracked and a gleeful sound eeks past your lips as his tall frame comes into view. You slip in before anyone else arrives and throw your arms around you. Inhaling deeply, his familiar teakwood scent envelopes you just as his arms do. You move to pull away, but his arms tighten around you.

“A second more,” he whispers, and there’s an edge to his voice.

You write it off to jet lag and sink into his embrace, though you notice how slight he feels against you. Finally, you pull back and cup his face in your hands. The scruff of his beard is prickly and you laugh as you take in his rugged appearance. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with this much facial hair.” You swipe your thumbs over the hair on his lip and he tilts his head, kissing the inside of your hand. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply before lifting them to meet yours. It's then you realize how tired he looks. The bags under his eyes are puffy and purple, almost as if they’re bruised. His forehead is creased, brow furrowed; definitely not how you pictured him upon reuniting.

“Aaron is everything ok—”

“I need you to know I would never hurt you,” he says quickly, interrupting you.

You purse your lips, brow pinching at the sudden admission. As your lips part to speak he directs a pointed look at you, the depths of his brown eyes wavering. “I love you,” his voice cracks, “so much.” He swallows, his throat bobbing as he does so. “Please remember that.”

There’s a hollow feeling in your gut, a chasm opening wide where every anxious and painful thought that you’ve tried to keep buried since he’s been gone begins to claw their way out as a thousand different outcomes play out in front of you. “Aaron, what’s going on?”

He doesn’t answer your question as the rest of the team trickles into the room, sitting at the round table or standing as suspense fills the space. It’s tangible. Everyone’s posture is rigid and tense in anticipation of whatever it is he has to say.

“Seven months ago I made a decision that impacted everyone on this team,” he begins, eyes firm.

Spencer shifts uncomfortably beside you. Rossi leans forward, fingers steepled under his chin.

“As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood,” Hotch continues and your ears prick at the sound of her name. Why would he bring her up? No less, her condition the day you all lost her. You all know this.

“…the doctor’s were able to stabilize her.”

Your lips part but no sound comes out as you raise your eyes to meet his. They meet yours for the briefest of seconds before flitting on to the others.The next words to leave his mouth sound far away, interrupted by the blood now pounding in your eardrums. “She stayed there until she was well enough to travel…given identities…”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel as though you may choke on it. Air doesn’t seem to be able to bypass it and you have to remind yourself that you can breathe even though it feels like all the oxygen has vacated your lungs.

Penelope is the first to speak. “She’s alive?”

Spencer’s brow quirks as he tries to rationalize what’s being said to him. “We buried her.”

You did. You helped carry the casket. You felt the weight of her dead body and watched it sink into the earth. If that wasn’t her, what the fuck or who the fuck did you actually put in the ground?”

“As I said I take full responsibility for this decision,” Hotch continues, eyes downcast. “If anyone has any issues they should be directed towards me.”

The blood pounding in your ears is deafening. When Hotch looks up, you search his eyes and can’t help wondering if you know him at all. All of the nights you literally made yourself sick from crying and he held your hair back as you dry heaved over the toilet and your body spasmed from the grief of losing your best friend, he’d known that she was alive. For a moment, you think you may be sick right there at the round table at the thought of it all. Derek is speaking, his voice tight with anger but you don’t hear him. Heads turn and the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as a haunting feeling creeps up the back of your spine.

Turning around in your chair, everyone else stands but not you. If you do, you know your knees will buckle and fall out from under you. Spencer and Penelope are on their feet, moving briskly to greet the ghost of Emily.

Except she’s not a ghost. Her skin is not the cold blue-gray pallor of death, but pink and bright, the blood beneath her flesh very much pumping through a heart that’s beating. Her dark brown hair is sleek and shining, her bangs grown out and styled; her part now to the right. You watch her arms fold around Spencer and the way he squeezes her in turn. Penelope follows suit, tears streaming down her cheeks as she smiles widely. Derek stares on, features fixed in a cross between anger and shock. Emily approaches him with apprehension. An apology leaves her lips as she draws him in for a hug and his arms tentatively wrap around her. When she turns to you, your muscles tense. Those deep brown irises flicker back and forth across your face, searching for a reaction. You don’t give her one. Instead, you push past her, avoiding any and all physical contact with her, and dip out of the conference room.

You hear Garcia call your name and Derek shouts about having a case. You don’t care. You bypass your desk, not even bothering to get your purse. Your keys are hanging on a carabiner on your belt loop. Ignoring the elevator, you shove your way through the entrance to the stairs and move down them so quickly you’re surprised you don’t lose your footing and tumble down them. Down and around you go, your footsteps echoing as your heart slams against your ribcage. You slap your badge against the keypad that lets you exit the building, ignoring the greeting from the security guard at the front. As you push through the front doors of the office building, you barely make it to the bushes before you fall to your knees and retch.

•

A car door slams followed by the double beep which locks them. You close your eyes and inhale deeply as you prepare to face him, hands clenching around the sweater you were packing. A tear slips free from your eye as you breathe out and look toward the ceiling, as if the answers to why all of this had to happen are written up there. This is not how your reunion is supposed to be. You’d pictured his homecoming for weeks; thought about the outfit you’d wear to dinner and the lingerie you’d bought to wear just for him when you both got home, opened a bottle of wine, and made up for all of the time lost while he was away. That is how tonight is supposed to go.

Now you’re leaving, and you don’t know if you’ll be coming back.

The lock on the front door jiggles before the gears click into place. It squeaks on its hinges as it swings open. Five beeps follow and you can picture his fingers pressing against each button on the alarm system. His keys clatter as he drops them on the table. As his footsteps edge closer to your bedroom, you count each one. The sound that usually means safety and security, now sends a shiver of anxiety throughout your body.

He appears in the doorway, eyes rife with exhaustion and the bags beneath them puffy and swollen. His cheeks are flushed and his nose is pink, as if he’d been crying. Maybe he had been, god knows you had. His eyes flit between you and the bag you’re packing. His lips part and a small sound of desperation slips past them.

“Baby, please—”

You hold up a hand, curling your fingers into a fist. Your lip curls as you speak. “Don’t,” you breathe. You swallow the lump that quickly forms in your throat as you drop your hand, zipping the bag shut.

The inner corners of his brow draw upward and you can hardly stand to look into his pleading gaze.

“You have to understand—”

“Understand, what? Aaron?” You ask sharply, struggling to hold back the thick hot tears pricking the backs of your eyes.

He places a hand on his hip, fingers tucking back the fold of his unbuttoned shirt as his thumb hooks into his belt; a gesture you’re all too familiar with as he does the same thing with all of his suits. His other hand rises to pinch the bridge of his nose. He pauses, inhaling as he tries to find the words. After a moment, he scrubs a hand over his face and turns his gaze to yours.

“I wanted to tell you so badly,” he says. When he looks at you there are tears in his eyes. “I hated myself, watching the agony this decision put you and the team through. I wanted to tell you and take away your hurt, but I couldn’t. It wouldn’t have been fair to the team. Just because you’re my girlfriend, I can’t—” He turns his hand and slams his hand against the doorframe causing you to flinch. “Dammit!”

Your voice is soft, but sure when you speak. “You can’t bend the rules.”

It’s what you’ve always worried about, both of you. You always knew the job could come first, especially with him being the Unit Chief. You always understood that that meant no preferential treatment and that is something you never would’ve asked him to do. You just never anticipated it happening like this, a complete and total life altering mind fuck.

Aaron drops his hand and it slaps against his thigh in defeat as it falls to his side. “What was I supposed to do?”

You cross your arms over your chest, fingers curling over your biceps to try and still your shaking hair. You hang your head and a curtain of hair falls across your face, “I don’t know, Aaron.”

He kicks off the doorway, moving towards you with his hands outstretched. It happens without thinking, the way you flinch away. Pain flashes in his eyes and you feel as though you’ve been punched in the stomach the way it’s suddenly hard to breathe.

His hip is close to yours, his body angled away from you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulder as he looks down. “Don’t do this,” he whispers.

Your lip quivers, chin wobbling in response to the tears you’re trying so desperately to hold back. “I have vacation I’d been saving.” You pick up your bag and throw it over your shoulder, not daring to look up at him because you know if you do you’ll shatter into a thousand shards of glass at his feet.

As you move toward the door, you pause. For a split second, you entertain the thought of dropping your bag, running across the room he’d chased you around so many times before, and throwing yourself around him. You consider all the things you want to say and scream and cry about; all of your anger, sadness, betrayal, grief, and love. You crave him so terribly in that moment because his have always been the arms you’ve run to when things become too much to bear.

Instead, your chin dips toward your shoulder as you speak, but you don’t raise your eyes to meet his. If you do, you don’t think you’ll be able to leave. “My gun and badge are in the safe.”

As you make your way down the hallway, you have to bite your knuckles to stifle a sob just as you hear one leave his lips from the bedroom.

You don’t turn back.

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[lukesaprince]

Rich Part 21

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

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

Word count: 17k+

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

- Find Series Masterlist Here -

- Find my General Masterlist here -

“Please… Daddy.”

“Good girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Words.” He warned. 

“No. No it isn’t.”

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

“You know it does.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jesus fucking Christ. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. Please, Daddy.”

“Gonna let me do anything I want?”

“Anything. Anything.”

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

“Open your mouth.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That was your favourite.

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

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

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

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

“I never take it off…” You sighed.

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

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

“How you feel in my hands… my mouth…”

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

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

“My tongue…” 

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

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

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

Either way, he was reaping the benefits. 

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

So fucking responsive.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

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

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

“Oh God. Harry!” 

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

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

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

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

And fuck. This was how he wanted you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Spit in my mouth.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah… a lot mean was fucking hot. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My… my clit.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And next door to top it all off.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have to go back to London.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And there it was. 

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

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

And now to learn there was more… 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was awful all around. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I won’t!”

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

Perfect.

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

It was the latter.

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

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

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

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

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

“Just answer the question. Is it true?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You knew? How?”

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

“When was the first time?”

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

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

“Yes but-”

“So when was the first time, y/n?”

You clearly weren't getting out of this one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. I am.”

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

“Mum!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded.

“And you love him back?”

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

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

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

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

She seemed to know all your answers tonight.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was liberating.

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

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

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

“No… you didn’t.”

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

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

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

//

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You sure?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m just making sure.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did?”

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

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

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

That manipulative cunt. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wow. Really?”

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

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

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

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

“My reputation as in…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You did?” you frowned slightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry I’d love that.” 

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

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

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

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

━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━ ━━━━━━ ♡ ━━━━━━━

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[theficlistpodcast]

😒😒😒

#ao3 bookmarks #private bookmarks #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #fandom #fandom culture #the fic list #tiktok #another queue bites the dust

[pineapplecrushface]

WIP Tuesday

Something about Buck and Eddie hugging for the first time in like four years made me think about how affectionate Buck is and then this happened.

“Does it feel weird to you?” Eddie asked when Buck had returned with more beer. “Not weird. Different, I mean.”

“What, being with a guy?” Buck tipped his head back and forth in a so-so gesture when Eddie nodded. “Sometimes. I keep catching myself feeling like I’m not supposed to like something, and I have to train myself to stop.”

“Like what?” Eddie asked before he thought it through. He held up a hand. “No intimate details.”

Buck laughed, his entire face going pink. He ducked his head and took a sip of beer. “Well, that is part of it. But no, it’s more like…he, uh, he calls me baby. And he holds me. I don’t think anyone’s ever done that, because I’m bigger, right? And the women I’ve dated, they liked that I was bigger and stronger than they were. And I’m discovering I kinda like that too. But.”

“But it feels like you’re not supposed to like it,” Eddie said.

“Yeah. So there’s a lot of arguing with my own stupid hang-ups.” Buck sighed. “I really didn’t think I had that many. Not about masculinity or whatever.”

Eddie hummed, not quite in agreement, thoughtful. Would he feel weird about it if a guy held him? Probably a little. He wasn’t very physically affectionate at the best of times, although he found it easier after he’d been dating someone a while. Really, he’d only ever been perfectly comfortable touching a few people. Chris, of course, after the awkwardness of figuring out how to hold a baby. Shannon, when they weren’t fighting.

And Buck. He was very comfortable touching Buck, so there was at least one guy he wouldn’t feel totally weird about being held by. For a moment he imagined the two of them wrapped around each other and it warmed him so much he smiled down at his beer—he could almost feel it, Buck throwing his whole body into it and tucking his face into Eddie’s neck like he did when they hugged. But it would be longer than a hug, and they’d relax into it, breathe each other in. Breathe easier, probably, because they wouldn’t have to pull away. Buck would mumble Ten minutes until we have to pick up Christopher, and Eddie would rub his cheek on Buck’s neck and say You can fall asleep if you want to, baby, I’ll wake you up—

He just barely managed not to twitch so hard he spilled his beer.

“You okay?” Buck asked, leaning forward on his elbow and licking beer from his lips. “You were zoned out pretty hard.”

“No, it’s,” he said, looking around and patting himself down to feel for his phone, wallet, keys. “Uh. I just realized I have to go pick up some stuff for Marisol. A project. She has a project she’s working on and I forgot.”

It wasn’t a complete lie; Marisol did have a list of things she’d asked him to pick up at the hardware store, but she wasn’t starting until Saturday. Buck gave him a skeptical look like he knew her renovation schedule better than Eddie did—and knowing Buck, he probably did—but only nodded.

“See you later,” Eddie said, throwing him a distracted wave and fleeing—actually jogging, running away from his best friend, until he was in his truck and panting and shaking his head because he did not run.

Hmm. You kinda do though, he thought, and it was Buck’s voice, and he was right. He ran and would continue to run because this, this wasn’t a thing he needed or wanted. Right? Right.

But he couldn’t help but poke at it one more time to make sure.

Buck. Buck’s big body around him, his big warm hands sliding down Eddie’s back, Buck laughing against his lips, giving him every bit of his endless reservoir of affection and love. Buck loving him.

 Eddie scrunched up his face and clenched his hands in the air before he smacked the steering wheel. Shit. Shit.

“Okay, it’s fine,” he said, smoothing his hands over the steering wheel like it was mad at him. Everything was fine. He didn’t have to think about it. He was in control of his own emotions. He was not a guy who was in love with his best friend. He was a guy who could compartmentalize and ignore uncomfortable things until they went away.

And eventually blew up in his face. But that was for future Eddie to handle. He had Frank and several excellent coping strategies and Muay Thai with his best friend's boyfriend who got to touch him all the time. It was fine. He was fine.

#911 #fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie

[malirosee]

SELF DESTRUCT - CHRIS STURNIOLO

SUMMARY;; Chris and Clara had been in a talking stage for 2 months and Chris decided to ghost her. But not for the reasons Clara thought he did ..

NOT PROOF READ ; NO SMUT JUST ANGST AND SLIGHT FLUFF :3 I suggest listening to the song before or while reading the fic because it'll make more sense to the plot !

Chris and Clara were basically perfect for each other. From the day they met at Larray's party they immediately had a connection and got along instantly. Both being the loudest and outgoing at the party. Their personalities together really made a room light up. They matched each other like puzzle pieces.

It didn’t take them long till they continued to bump into each other at Larrays multiple parties and  eventually got each other's numbers and started talking a bit more seriously. 

Clara was head over heels for Chris to say the least. From that night she knew she had something for him. It's like the universe aligned them together on purpose. He made her feel like her. He was the first guy ever to make her really feel something.  

If Clara had to describe him he was perfect in her eyes. In every way possible. The way he’d stay up all night talking to her, or how he’d assure her she was okay when she was having a bad day, or even the slight compliments he gave her, the way he made her smile at her phone, the way he’d listen to everything she had to say, he was everything she wanted. Everything she needed.

And Chris absolutely returned the feeling. He even made sure to hint to Clara how he felt.

So when Chris started distancing himself from Clara randomly it felt weird. It made Clara feel utterly confused. 

At first it started off as dry responses. She tried not to think too hard about it because Chris was a human and of course he had a life and other things to worry about. Then it started to become where he’d only text her once every other day. Then after about four messages in a row she sent him is when she realized he fully ghosted her.

She stared at her screen, blue light plastered on her face from the reflection. She bit her lip- holding back the urge to text him once again. She sighed and slammed her phone down on her bed. She just didn’t understand it. Was it something wrong she did? She said?  She looked? The entire situation kept her up late at night. 

She felt something she had never felt with anyone else with Chris. Clara had been in plenty of relationships before but she swore up and down that Chris was different. When in reality it wasn’t. He was just like everyone else. He was interested, he got bored, and was clearly too big of a dick to tell Clara the truth so he did the thing any other guy would do and ghost her.

They had only been talking for two months and she knew she shouldn’t have gotten attached but still, it fucked her up. It had officially been two weeks today since the last text Chris had sent her. She just needed to accept the fact that what they had was dead now. 

She sucked it all up and decided to go to Tara's party tonight. She knew she needed a distraction and hoped that Chris or the triplets wouldn’t be there because she had never seen them interact with Tara like that. 

For Chris, this was absolutely eating him alive. He hadn’t gotten proper sleep since then. Chris couldn’t exactly pinpoint why he ghosted Clara. Chris had extremely bad commitment issues and everyone knew that. His past relationships really wiring his brain anytime he found someone knew. So when he met Clara he thought that it would just end up being the same thing. He’d get attached to her and she’d end up hurting him. So he distanced himself to the point where he accidentally ghosted her. He didn’t even realize that he hurt her in order to protect himself until it was too late.

He even thought about texting Clara again but he couldn’t. He knew he had already fucked it up enough. He almost did though. A bunch of times. He would always write her really long paragraphs at 2 in the morning and almost end up sending them. He’d always feel really pathetic and end up deleting it and rolling over and try to sleep.  

He hated the thought of hurting Clara. He had been ghosted before by girls and it absolutely crushed him and he didn’t even wanna imagine what Clara was thinking. It made him feel like an absolute asshole. He wanted her to know how badly it hurt him too. It's like he self-destructed himself when he was around her. 

So here he was at Taras party. Trying to distract himself from it all. 

When Clara saw him she felt like her heart stopped for a second. Her entire body stopped. She stood in the middle of Larrays hallway staring at him. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Her mouth slightly opened out of shock. 

It didn’t take Chris long to notice Clara’s eyes on him. They locked eyes. Both their faces went pale. Chris could feel the breath leave his body. Immediately when Clara noticed Chris´ eyes on her she stormed out the room. Chris excused himself from the girl he was talking to in front of her and immediately ran after her.

“Clara, wait..” He called out. Clara heard his voice. The same voice that used to calm her down. Her vision began to get blurry and her head started pounding. She began to push everyone and everything out her way. She didn’t even know where she was trying to go; she just knew she needed to get away. “Clara please!” Chris called again.

Clara finally reached outside. She took a deep breath in from the fresh air. She turned around and met Chris’ tall figure in front of her. Her mouth still held open; her pupils small and her breath shaky. An extremely disappointed look on her face. Chris’ face was filled with guilt and worry. “What.” Clara said sternly. Chris didn’t exactly know what to say. He said the first thing that came to mind, “I’m sorry.” is all he could spit out. A scoff left Clara’s mouth. “You’re sorry? For what Christopher. What are you sorry for?” Clara spat back. Her arms crossed her body. Anger began to fill her body. “Clara, you know what I'm sorry for…” He spoke softly. Clara rolled her eyes. “Yeah sorry for ghosting me and getting my hopes up? Wow thanks for that awesome apology Chris!” Clara began to walk away as she said that. Tears began to fill the brim of her eyes. Chris continued to follow after her “Clara you don’t understand, I didn’t mean to ghost you.” He explained. He placed his hand on her shoulder trying to turn her around. She met his eyes again. “How the fuck do you not mean to ghost someone Chris?” the tears began to spill out her eyes. 

Chris inhaled. “Clara I didn’t know how to function with you because I like you too much. I threw it all away because I was scared. I was scared of getting hurt that I didn’t even realize I was hurting you in the process. I self-destructed and panicked and just left with no explanation and it's been eating me alive. I hope that you know this entire thing has hurt me so unbelievably and I've tried so hard to reach out to you but couldn’t bring myself to do it. I felt like I fucked up too much. Maybe I should’ve stayed and I'm sorry…” He explained. Everything coming out at once. Every feeling Chris has had in these past two weeks finally came out. Clara’s face lit up in shock. She couldn’t believe what Chris was saying. Clara had no words. She didn’t even know how to respond to this. 

“Really?”

Chris chuckled awkwardly

“Really.”

-

AN: I didn't know what to do for the end so just come up with it with your imagination LMAO

TAGLIST (tell me if u wanna be removed or added!) ; @sturnioloshacker @sturnish @hoesformatt @lovingmattysposts @gwenlore @daddyslilchickenfingers @thenickgirl

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo an #sturniolo angst #sturniolos #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #fem oc #sturniolo #sturniolo fluff #fic #idfk #:3 #song fic #between friends #Spotify

[vanteguccir]

Anxiety On Tour | Matt Sturniolo

Matt Sturniolo x reader

Summary: Where Y/N is just another fan at one of the Let's Trip Tour shows, until it comes time for the Meet&Greet. Things get out of hand for Matt, and she ends up being the only one who manages to calm him down.

Warning: Panick attack, anxiety.

Requested?: Yes, by @patscorner

Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The stage was illuminated by a myriad of lights, as the bustling crowd eagerly pressed near the front. Y/N could feel the electricity in the air as the beats of upbeat music keep echoing throughout the venue from the big speakers. It was the beginning of the much-awaited Sturniolo Triplets show from the Let's Trip Tour.

She couldn't believe she was finally there, in the middle of the action, about to witness the boys she'd followed through a screen for years, finally face to face. With her heart pounding in her chest, Y/N let herself be carried away by the infectious energy of the crowd as she got closer and closer to the stage.

The music reached a crescendo, and then, suddenly, they appeared. Matt, Nick, and Chris entered the stage, radiating a magnetic presence that immediately captured everyone's attention. Y/N held her breath as her eyes found Matt, the boy she had never seen in person, but with whom she had a huge crush for months, in the flesh right in front of her. He looked even more stunning out of screen, with his messy hair and shy smile.

As the greetings sentences were let out by the three's microphones, Y/N felt a wave of emotion course through her body. It was as if every cell within her was vibrating in tune with them, with the pulsing energy of everyone around her.

As the show progressed, Y/N couldn't take her eyes off Matt. Every laugh, every saying, seemed to hypnotize her even more. She wondered if he could feel her gaze on him or if that was just her desire playing with her mind.

When it was time for a break between games, Matt grabbed the microphone and began speaking to the audience. His voice was soft and engaging, making everyone around him feel like they were having an intimate conversation with him. Y/N held her breath, hanging on every word he said.

As Matt interacted with everyone, his eyes swept across the crowd and, for a brief moment, seemed to meet Y/N's. She felt her face blush intensely, and a shy smile formed on her lips before she looked away, embarrassed, holding back the immense urge to scream at having been seen by him.

As the show continued, Y/N found herself caught up in a rollercoaster of emotions. The pulsating energy of the music, the interactions, the magnetic presence of the triplets, and, most of all, Matt's closeness left her ecstatic. Every moment was like a dream come true, and she refused to blink for fear of missing even a second.

When the stage lights finally went out and the final words were given, Y/N felt a mixture of ecstasy and melancholy by the feeling of the long-awaited moment coming to an end, but little did she know that the night was just beginning.

༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N waited anxiously in line for the meet and greet. Her heart was beating so hard that it felt like it was about to jump out of her chest while her right leg bounced up and down in anxiety. Every minute that passed felt like an eternity, but at the same time, she wanted the moment to last forever.

As she watched the fans in front of her greet the triplets with beaming smiles, Y/N wondered what it would be like to be so close to them. She could barely contain her excitement as she approached the door that led to the meet and greet room where traps played loudly from the speakers, and colorful lights painted the walls.

Finally, her turn has come. Her stomach fluttered nervously as she entered the room, and her eyes instantly locked on Matt, who was there, so close and so real.

The three were side by side, Nick had a relaxed posture as he placed aside a teddy bear that he had probably received from the previous fan, while Chris glanced at Matt, seeming to watch him closely.

Matt was feeling fine until seconds before, but something inside him started to stir. His heart beating faster, his breathing became irregular, and a feeling of panic came over him.

So, when Y/N walked over to greet Matt with a hug, she noticed something was different, off. His arms were shaking, and his eyes looked a little lost, as if he were fighting some internal battle. Now up close, she could also notice how rigid his posture was and how his hands were clenched into a firm fist.

Y/N felt a wave of worry run through her own body, struggling internally over what to do, but ended up deciding not to expose Matt's situation in front of anyone, remaining silent. Instead, she smiled warmly and tried to keep the conversation light, hoping not to bother him with intrusive questions.

"Hi, Matt." The girl greeted softly, trying to ignore the nervousness that came over her body. "It's amazing to finally meet you in person. How are you?"

Matt lifted his head towards her for the first time, appearing to have only noticed her presence at that moment, trying to open a smile like hers, but his lips were trembling to the point where it came weaker than he wanted to.

Y/N could see the tension in his blue eyes as he tried to hide his discomfort, wondering what had happened to make him react in such a way so suddenly. Meanwhile, Matt tried to convince himself that it was nothing and that it would soon pass.

But it didn't pass. Instead, the feeling of panic grew, enveloping him like a dense fog. He felt like he was suffocating, like the world was crumbling around him, while his mind convinced him that he was alone.

As Y/N moved to greet Chris and Nick individually, keeping a brief and quick conversation - following the pattern imposed by the team that observed them -, she noticed how Matt seemed increasingly agitated, her own mind racing in an eagerness to help him, but the fear of reaction from the public, the team and even the triplets themselves held her back.

Until the picture moment. Y/N felt her heart sink as she felt Matt's breathing become more rapid and shallow as they prepared to take the group photo. She knew she couldn't just stand by and watch as he fought the monsters of his own mind.

With a lump in her throat and trembling hands, Y/N removed her left arm from around Chris, muttering a quick apology before turning to Matt, blocking the view of the line of people behind them, creating a small haven of privacy amidst the chaos of the room. The girl lifted her head slightly, searching his eyes with her own, desperately looking for any sign of life inside the blue orbs.

"Matt, hey." She began, her voice soft and comforting, acting as a balm to his troubled soul. "Are you okay?"

Matt's eyes widened in panic as he realized that the disturbances in his mind became visible enough to be seen by someone else. He swallowed hard, forcing himself not to look at his brothers or the fans behind the girl in front of him, the fear of receiving disappointed or judgmental looks growing in his chest.

He limited himself to just shaking his head, unable to utter a word. His eyes were unfocused and lost, and his nails pierced the palm of his hands - probably drawing blood - with the force he was squeezing the area, trying to maintain control of the uncontrollable emotions.

Y/N could see the terror on his face, and her heart ached for him.

She turned her head slightly and passed her eyes briefly over Nick and Chris, noticing how the two now had a rigid posture, ready to make a move as soon as necessary. Chris's eyes carried great uncertainty, as if he was afraid of leaving Matt in the care of a stranger, but Nick's hand, which held his biceps surreptitiously, prevented him from acting on impulse.

Y/N turned her attention back to Matt, trapping her bottom lip between her teeth in a thoughtful act before sighing softly.

"Can I hug you?" Her voice came out in a whisper as low as the music that surrounded them, but loud enough for him to hear it, and she was sure of it when she received a small nod in response.

Without hesitation, the girl enveloped him in a warm hug, holding him tightly against her chest as he trembled. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he struggled to control his breathing and calm his nerves. Y/N pressed her fingers into strategic points on his back, touching the hard knots with every inch of skin, lightly massaging the covered area.

"Everything is okay." Y/N whispered softly, snaking her right hand up his shoulder to the back of his head, interlacing her fingers in Matt's messy curls, stroking them carefully while guiding him to lay his head on her right shoulder. "You're safe here. No one is gonna hurt you. Just breathe with me, okay? Follow my breathing."

Y/N began to breathe slowly and deeply, the warm air hitting Matt's ear, helping him to follow her rhythm. A disguised smile grew on her face as she felt the boy's back rise and fall in an uneven rhythm below her left hand, knowing he was trying as hard as he could in that moment.

Little by little, she felt the tension in his body ease, his tremors becoming less intense as he finally reacted, clinging to her for comfort. His large but so fragile hands at that moment held her arm tightly, searching desperately for support and balance.

For a few precious moments, Y/N and Matt remained like that, joined in a comforting embrace, and lost in their own world of calm and safety. The sounds of Chris' agitated voice shouting for water to one part of the team and Nick's voice demanding the other part to remove the fans that were still there were all muffled against both of their ears, just the unison rhythm of their breathing and the beats of their connected hearts echoing around their bodies.

When Matt finally pulled away, his eyes quickly met Y/N's, overflowing with gratitude and fascination, feeling flattered to have had the opportunity to meet a girl so empathetic to the point of helping him without a second thought.

His mind searched for words to thank her, but to Y/N, he didn't need to say anything; his eyes said it all.

"How can I-" Matt began, clearing his throat briefly as he heard his own voice come out hoarse and worn out by the whirlwind of emotions that he went through in a short space of time. "How can I thank you? Repay you for what you did for me..."

Y/N shook her head, interrupting his sentence, her own smile widening and brightening her features as her eyes remained fixed on the blue ones, who now seemed to be taking their own time to carefully analyze her expressions, seeming mesmerized.

Matt's warm hands suddenly felt heavier against the exposed skin of her arm, a shiver running down her spine as she noticed how close they were physically, the boy's scent filling her nostrils with an inescapable force, leaving her dizzy and lost.

"I think you owe me a picture."

༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

A/N²: I hated it, so I'm so sorry if it sucked badly ;(

My requests are closed, but my asks are always open ♡

And remember to treat people with kindness always!

~ taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @strnilolo @bernardsbendystraws @mattsneezing @poetatorturadaa @meg-sturniolo @orangeypepsi @jnkvivi @chrisactualwife @watermelonreid @fratbrochrisgf @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)

#matt sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #imagine #oneshot #matt sturniolo fic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x yn #matt sturniolo x reader fluff #fluff #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #matt x reader #matt au #matt fanfic #matt #angst with a happy ending #matt sturniolo x reader angst #lets trip tour

[good-reduce-foot]

#SPNFamily #science side of tumblr #mlp fim #breastfeeding #caio fernando abreu #inspirational #fic #yoshitaka amano #hugh laurie #giambattista valli #cantik #park chanyeol #hinata hyuga

[eggcats]

Headcanon that Alastor only knows how to show affection in ways HE would find acceptable to receive it. And yes, this DOES include random dead deer carcasses and the occasional sinner, but more importantly it affects how he interacts with others.

Because, other than Mimzy, who fairly explicitly tells him to fight her battles for her, most of his friends and acquaintances are powerful enough that joining a fight on their behalf would be an insult. Because HE would be insulted if someone did that to him, so he doesn't do it to those he likes and respects.

And as such, when he sees someone he cares about fighting he will watch and observe to only enter the battle if absolutely necessary - to do anything else would be to imply that they are weak and in need of protection. He respects them enough to let them win their own battles.

However, when he and Angel start becoming closer, this REALLY confuses Angel. He thought they were sorta-kinda friends, but Alastor REFUSES to help him even a little when he gets caught up in a turf war.

Alastor just observes from the fringes and doesn't do a THING to help Angel, and it's slowly driving him mad. Because the second the battle is over, Alastor will act just like before, but during it? He seems like he doesn't know who Angel is. It's kind of offensive, really. But he doesn't say anything because maybe HE'S misinterpreting their friendship here, and is looking into their interactions more than they are because he likes Alastor. It kind of hurts, but this is Hell, so what doesn't?

Until one day, when Alastor sees some random sinner attempt to drug Angel to force a victory. And suddenly, Alastor reminds everyone why they should fear the Radio Demon - because how DARE they be so weak as to insult Angel in such a way rather than simply respectfully dying.

And Angel is CONFUSED. He's like, "What the FUCK was that, Smiles?!" And is even more confused when Alastor APOLOGIZES and shows Angel the syringe as his reasoning for joining the fight.

Angel is so lost that for the first time, he brings up Alastor's weird behavior to Husk while he's drinking. And Angel is even MORE lost when Husk simply goes, "Ah, that makes sense."

A: "WHAT makes sense 'cuz I don' get why he'd choose NOW to help me!"

H: "Al is an Overlord, and most of his friends are other or former Overlords. How'd you think he'd take it if someone fought to defend him in a fight if he didn't need it?"

A: "What's that got to do wit' anything?"

H: "Al's treating you with the same respect he'd expect to have. He thinks you're upset at him for HELPING, not for taking this long to do so. He thinks he's insulted you by implying you're weak and in need of defending."

Suddenly, Angel is reevaluating every time he's noticed Alastor watching the fight from the sidelines, but not moving an inch to help him. It's kind of flattering that he thinks Angel is so capable of handling himself, but also wanted to stay in case something happened? That. That kind of says a lot to how Alastor sees him, doesn't it? If he's treating him like Angel is just as worthy as respect as Alastor's other friends? And the fact that he only joined the fight when someone tried to force him to lose unfairly?

Angel realizes he needs to talk to Alastor and clear up this misunderstanding, because suddenly it doesn't seem so ridiculous that Alastor might care for him and Angel just hasn't been able to read the signs correctly.

#hazbin hotel #alastor #angel dust #radiodust #fic #mine #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust #long post #like i love the idea of Alastor defending angel dont get me wrong #but what about Alastor seeing Angel as a worthy and respectable opponent worthy of the same respect he'd grant to any other overlord??? #think about that

[poll-polls]

#fanfic #fanfiction #fan fic #fic #fan fiction #archive of our own #ao3 #wattpad #fanfiction.net #ff.net #poll #polls #some fandoms to get this attention (will delete tags after poll ends): #batman #atla #9 1 1 #pokemon #critical role #ever after high #fallout #hazbin hotel #good omens #merlin #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #danny phantom #hannibal #miraculous ladybug #avatar the last airbender #the bad batch #dungeon meshi

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Winter's King 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: another week ahead.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The gates open as horses snort and kick. The dawn air is ripe with impatience. You and Merinda watch as you stand east of the front doors. The luggage is clustered near the stables, to depart once all of the nobles have trotted their steeds from within the walls. 

Your encounter with the king lingers in your head but the echo of his anger and the scent of spilled ale is enough to deter you. A maid will not be missed. Merinda can’t tear her eyes away from it all. Her expression is longing and doleful. 

“A pity we must stay here with Lady Rezlyn,” she mutters, “she’ll be miserable without her daughter.” 

“I’m certain she will miss her,” you agree. 

“She won’t have any to indulge her,” Merinda sniffs, “or distract her.” 

“Mm, I suppose. Perhaps she will be too sad to be angry,” you suggest. 

The noise of mail approaches and you look up. You expect the soldier to pass by as all others have done. It is the same steely soldier who’d been at the king’s side that morning. Merinda steps closer to you as the man’s grey eyes are fixed on you. 

“Maid,” he barks, “find a cart.” 

You frown and look over at Merinda. 

“The king has sent for a lady maid for his wife,” the soldier explains, “you.” 

He points at you with his gauntlet and you flinch. The king has not forgotten or changed his mind. It was wrong of you to assume. You grab Merinda through her sleeve and squeeze. 

“Just me, sir?” you ask. 

“We needn’t a dozen of the traitor’s servants,” the man scoffs in return, “come. You will travel with the others amid the bedrolls.” 

You blanch and cling to Merinda. She whimpers and you turn to her, the reality setting in on your at once. Your chest feels as if it’s being crushed as you face your lifelong companion. As close to a friend as any might have in your position. 

“Mer,” you croak. 

“Save your tears, there’s no time,” the soldiers grits. 

Merinda pulls you into an embrace. “Be safe,” she whispers with a sniffle. 

“You too,” you part and look her in the face, “Mer, I--” 

“Yes, I know, me too,” she frowns, “you must go.” 

“Yes, you must,” the soldier insists and points towards the stable.  

Merinda lets you go and the fabric of her sleeve slips from between your fingers. You follow the soldier, looking back at the lone maid as she watches after you. You can see her wringing her hands. She’s never been the nervous sort. 

You take in a deep breath and turn forward. The soldier marches you to the back of a cart and points inside. There's just enough room for you among the chests and casks within. You climb up, moving your skirts from under your knees, and sit against the side. You don’t have anything to worry about leaving behind. 

He stomps away and you lean to see him around the wall of the cart. He disappears and you sit back and huff. Off to the capital and then the Hinterlands. You look down at your dress, the apron and wool frayed with your labour. You will be cold once you turn north, you hope you might bear it. 

There’s a clink of metal and horse hooves. You look up as a speckled grey steed appears by the cart. You gulp and gape at the large beast as its equally grey master holds it by the reins. The steely soldier shoves a wad of leaves into his mouth and chews. 

“Come this far,” he grumbles through sloppy gnashing, “just to guard the luggage.” He snorts and shakes his head, “I’m not in the mood for trouble, maid. You keep in your cart.” 

You lower your head as you bend your knees, and cross your arms across them, “yes, sir. Thank you.” 

He chews in the lull between you. He turns to spit the leaves onto the ground and kicks dirt over them. His horse nuzzles at his shoulder as he shrugs it off. 

“Don’t thank me yet,” he girds at last, “you won’t once you see the snow.” 

⚔️

The day rolls by with the wheels of the cart. You jostle with the movement as the grey soldier rides abreast of the luggage train. Ahead, the royal party and soldiers lead the way on the long road to the capital. There’s a glimmer of excitement in you, a sensation you’re not used to.  

You’ve only ever heard of the capital from your masters. Lady Jazlene’s tales of sparkling banquets and golden plates and raucous dances. Lady Rezlyn was more likely to talk of the courtly whispers, who is marrying who, which earl despises which count, and scandalous affairs of those already bound to another. Your anticipation is routed by a sadness; you don’t know that you’ll ever see Merinda again to tell her of all you see. 

You pick at your nails and watch the rippling clouds above. The blue sky appears as a sheet of pure satin with streaks of soft ivory. The sunlight streaks from the horizon, weaving into the cornflower expanse and limns over the soft green leaves of swaying trees. The smell of pollen and dirt breezes from the forests and the rustle of tall wheat drifts in from the rich fields. 

As you take in your homelands, you feel a twisting in your chest. You will miss it very much. You never put special thought to it before, you never considered the ties that bound you to this land, but now they tug and strangle you near to tears. This is what you know, it is what you don’t that terrifies you so much. 

You rock as noon burns high, rattled by the bumpy earth below. The grey horse hovers closer and you look up to soldier scowling down at you. You shy away and cough as dust is thrown up by the wheels. The man grumbles and steers his horse closer. You slump your shoulders down, wondering why he hovers. 

Perhaps it is your masters who cast suspicion over you. You are one of them. New allies forged in deceit. The more you think of Lord Dustan’s deception, the more uneasy you feel. You always thought the duke was at least a good lord, now, you don’t know what to think of him. 

“Aye,” something hits the cart, landing next to your feet. It’s a water skin, a thick hide strap attached to it. You peek up at the soldier and reach for it, the water swishing within. “Your summer lands are dry as ash.” 

You consider the skin before you uncork it. You pause and try to see the man through the beaming rays of midday. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Mm,” he grumbles and keeps his horse in line the end of the cart. 

You drink, not too much, just enough to sate, and you offer it back to him over the side of the wagon. He takes it and strings it back around his shoulder. You sit back, facing away from him. The horse trods on without expedience. 

The soldier is just as silent as ever. You hear some shuffling, something brushing, it is barely discernible from the leaves fluttering in the distance. There’s a nudge on your shoulder, the man holds a small bundle of cloth in his gauntlet. 

“Sir?” You crane and turn your body. You accept the handful. “Thank you.” 

He nods and sets his sights on the horizon, undeterred by the blazing sunlight. You look down and carefully unwrap the linen from around a medley of nuts and a hunk of cheese. You suspect they were taken from the castle kitchens. 

“I...” you glance over at him, “would you like some too?” 

You cradle the food towards him and his brows form a vee. He reaches beneath his mail and pulls out a stick of dried meat. He wiggles it at you and takes a bite. 

Your lips curve slightly, “thank you...” 

“You have better manners than the turn cloak’s daughter,” he bristles through his mouthful. 

You take a nut and turn it over between your fingers. You don’t know what to say to that. You nibble on the nut, crushing it between your teeth noisily. You look up and meet the soldier’s grey irises. 

“You are kind,” you gesture to the food, “not like the guards at the castle.” 

“Mm, a symptom of the summer lands, I fathom,” he mulls with a shake of his head. “Though war can make any unkind.” He pets his horses main, a thoughtless act as he speaks, “soldiers are plunderers more oft than not.” He drags his hand back and adjusts the reins, “you will not stray far when we make camp. These men have been marching for months.” 

You blink as you break off a piece of the hard cheese, “yes, sir.” 

“You understand me,” he states, not asks. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Bryce,” he says curtly. “And your name, maid?” 

You take a moment to process his request but you issue your name before tasting the bold cheese. You make a face. It is not your favourite. You often live on the dry rye bread and butter, and the chunk broth leftover from the hearty stews served to your masters. 

“Aye, I didn’t like it either,” he remarks, “let’s hope there is better fare awaiting us in the capital.” 

⚔️

Night falls and the party makes camp. You help cover the wagon with a few other servants, ready to sleep beneath the canvas with the chests of clothes and books. You sit beside the wheel in the dirty, watch the sky glitter with stars as you bask in the cool night. You’ll retire soon but the sun lingers in your skin and burns. 

Footsteps mulch towards you. You look up, expecting another servant headed for a piss in the trees. The figure is broad and stiff. You recognise Bryce before he reaches you. You stand expectantly to meet him. 

“I was only about to retire,” you assure him and turn to touch the canvas, recalling his earlier foreboding. 

“No,” he says, “your queen requires her maid.” 

You pause, “oh, yes, certainly.” 

He sighs, “she requires many things I would not put to word.” 

You flutter your lashes, not quite sure of his meaning, though his tone is sharp. Lady Jazlene does not always inspire kindness. You put your head down and turn to follow the soldier. 

Bryce walks beside you through the camp. Soldiers snore or sit and chatter, others clean their blades, and several sit around fires roasting whatever they could catch in the brush. Towards the front of the train of slumbering steeds and stalled carts, larger than the canvas on crooked poles, is a grand silk tent, glowing from within. 

Your escort stops just outside, exchanging a nod with the two soldiers standing before the flap. You can hear Jazlene’s shrill voice from within. It is too dark to make out the expressions of the guards or the man at your side. One of the soldiers pulls back the fabric to let your through. You bow your head as you enter. 

“This isn’t fair!” Jazlene roars, “I am a queen now and I will not be treated as a child!” 

You peer around, expecting another to be at the mercy of her wrath. It is only her. She rages around the space, stamping and snarling. Her skirts are stained with the dirt of the road as her steps hitch now and again. 

“I will not sit a horse again! It is not good for a lady to ride as such!” She stews, “Where is my father?” She rushes towards the door, brushing by you as she pushes through the flap, “fetch me my father, now!” 

“Get inside,” a soldier growls. 

“You do not command me! I am the queen--” 

“The king bids you stay within,” another drones without emotion. 

“Ugh, stupid men,” she retreats and swirls, her skirts swishing against you, “empty-headed soldiers! What do they do? Carry their swords and run to their deaths! I am a lady, a queen! And they speak to me as if they are above me!” 

Her rant continues as if you are not even there. Even having touched you, she has yet to notice your presence. You look around and go to the corner where a bottle sits on a crate, with a wooden cup near it. You pour the wine as the queen continues her tirade. 

“Your highness,” you offer the cup, though you avoid her harried route around the tent, “you must be tired from the road.” 

She stops short, looking at you as she pulls her chin back. You cannot tell if she is surprised or affronted by you. She huffs and stomps towards you. You steel yourself as she snatches the cup and sniffs the contents. 

“Food! I am hungry,” she snaps. 

“Yes, your highness, I will fetch something,” you assure. 

She narrows her eyes at you. Her lips slant. “Your highness, yes, you recall, I am the queen.” 

You turn and go to the entrance. You poke through and the soldier angles his spear across your path. You gulp and stay at the threshold. 

“She is hungry. Is there food?” 

“Aye, I will fetch it,” Bryce’s voice startles you as he looms in the shadows. 

You thank him before you retract back behind the silk. You stay close to the door as you wait and Jazlene slurps down the wine between furious mutters. As she reaches the bottom, she turns the cup upside down and wiggles it in your direction. It’s empty. 

You take it and refill it to the brim. The wine might calm her should she imbibe enough. Lady Rezlyn was always jollier when she had a healthy helping of red. 

As you bring it back to her, she faces you with a sneer. She glares at you and takes the cup. You stand, trapped in her distaste. You cry out as you feel something sharp on your stomach. You look down as she pinches you through your apron and twists. You clamp your jaw tight as you hold back a squeal. 

She lets you go and drinks deeply as she struts away from you. You put your hand to the sore spot and resume your place by the door. It is better than a slap, though that may still be to come. 

As you stand just inside the flap, you hear the approach of boots. The soldiers utter low words, ‘your highness’ and you barely step out of the way as the silk is drawn back. The king steps inside as you sidle away. You still as he glowers around the space, the flicker of the torch planted in the ground reflects in his golden eyes. 

“Wife, half the camp can hear your tantrum,” he says, “queen’s do not behave as chil--” 

Before he can finish his remonstrance, Jazlene is billowing towards him in her satin skirts. There’s a splash that fizzles in the air, tense silence rising as the king’s words die on his tongue. He closes his eyes against the liquid assault, wine dripping down his face and wetting his dark lashes. He sucks in a deep breath and his hands fist as Jazlene snickers cruelly and throws the cup at his chest. 

“If you treat me as a child, then I may as well act as one,” she retorts. 

The king doesn’t react. His posture is locked, his shoulders squared and his jaw set in stone. Slowly, he expels his breath and opens his eyes. Jazlene’s mocking smirk trembles and falls. 

“You are worse than a child,” he accuses and grabs her by the shoulders, “you are nothing more than a vicious cat.” 

“Get your hands off me,” she sneers as she writhes in his grasp, “unless you mean to be a husband, eh? Do you think you might prove yourself this time?” 

He growls and squeezes so she winces. She whimpers and beats on his thick arms. He walks her backwards as her feet shuffle beneath her to keep from tripping. 

“Husband, you cannot blame me for being unhappy. I have not been t-treated as a queen should--” 

“You have not earned it,” he shoves her and she lands on the stuffed mattress across the ground. “Be quiet. The camp needn’t lack sleep on your account.” 

Jazlene pouts up at him. You see the battle in her, of anger and fear. The king snarls down at her, “go to sleep.” 

She bats her lashes and pushes herself up on one elbow. She reaches to her skirts and tugs them up, “husband...” she shows her leg, “please...” 

He doesn’t move. He stares down at her for a moment then turns on his heel. He takes a step then falters. His gaze meets with yours. You quickly look down, realising then he was unaware of you. You shouldn’t have seen that. He falls back into step. 

“Do not make me return,” he barks as he shoves through the silken flap. 

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #the witcher #winter's king

[shake-like-also-include]

#tf2 medic #slenderverse #entrepreneur #lana rhodes #fan art #princess tutu #tristeza #stan lee #my face #twitter layouts #inspirational #fic #yoshitaka amano

[additiva]

Frechheit

By additiv (me) on AO3 | Lestappen | Rated E | 104k words |

Summary

The first time that Max heard the name Charles Leclerc was in 2022, just after winning his first WDC. Maybe it only stuck because he heard it twice in one night; first as Leclerc was announced as the 2022 F3 champion. Second, as Helmut lamented not signing him to the Red Bull driver development program.

Now, Max is ready to put the newly-promoted Ferrari driver in his place. The problem is, Leclerc seems to think his place is on the top step of the podium. And he is not playing by the rules.

Basically, an age-difference fic, where they never got to work out their differences as kids. 3-time WDC Max's experience of being personally victimised by baby-Charles.

Genuine Enemies to Lovers, and the Most Unreliable of Narrators.

Chapters 1-14/20 are posted. Updates weekly-ish.

#lestappen #fic #ao3 #charles leclerc #max verstappen #frechheitfic