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chilling-seavey · 23 hours

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Love Thy Neighbour (gr63) - Part Two

↳ A/N Another day of daydreaming about househusband George sighh. This universe really holds a special place in my heart, honestly. But maybe that's because I'm addicted to the concept of the 1980s and all that I missed from not existing then-

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

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

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

↳ Word Count: 27.3k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, cheating/adultery (and the consequences that may come along with it), use of explicit language, oral (f and m receiving), choking, spanking, some biting, hair pulling, use of derogatory names (slut etc.), unprotected sex, open ending

PART ONE

October 1984

You were sure there was nothing wrong with wanting to work outside in your garden the same afternoon that George happened to be mowing his lawn. Just two neighbours innocently working on their respective properties in the same late morning autumn sun. In reality, you had nothing to really work on since you had just moved in and the seasons were already changing, therefore nothing was in your garden. But you busied yourself with the few weeds and cleaning up the edges here and there, in need of some excuse to keep an eye on your dear neighbour.

You hadn’t seen him all weekend since your spouses were home from work and those two days were always important family time that was otherwise limited during the week. Since your whirlwind of a Friday, you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about George. Every time your family ate breakfast in the kitchen, your eyes kept drifting to the counter that he had you up on. Every time you walked past the living room, all you could see was him on top of you on that floral couch. Every time Andrew kissed you, you wondered if he tasted another man on your lips. It was once guilt but now the thrill seemed to overpower it.

After taking your boys to the bus stop that morning, you and George didn’t speak much more than passing remarks about your weekends and your plans for the day. George’s comment about needing to get outside to cut the lawn captured your attention and the sight of him sharply pulling the cord on his lawn mower to bring the motor to life captured your attention out your front bedroom windows. That’s ultimately what got you outside. His bare torso glistening in the bright sunshine was what kept you outside.

It was likely that your staring wasn’t discreet as you pawed dumbly at your empty garden and fleeting weeds, crisp new floral garden gloves on your hands to really look the part. Any advances were halted by the public space of your street you found yourselves on, knowing the gossip of the neighbourhood that could arise with ease, not to mention George’s three-year-old who was entertaining herself on the driveway with a box of chalk. The noise of the gas powered lawn mower disrupted the peaceful suburban street but you would never complain at the view it offered. With your hands distractedly in the dirt, your entire head was turned to the neighbouring property, eyes squinted slightly in the sun but steadfast and focused on the handsome man that blessed your vision.

Your attention was soon torn away from him and to the little girl just beyond as she had stood up from the driveway and was almost skipping across the grass towards you. George kept an eye on her to make sure she wasn’t in the path of his mowing and he slowed down a bit to watch as she approached you. You sat back on your ankles with a friendly smile as the little brunette girl bounded over to you with bouncing curling pigtails.

“Hey, you.” you greeted her sweetly.

She clasped her hands behind her back bashfully and swayed back and forth for a moment in her short denim overalls and white sneakers that were dusted in colourful pastel chalk.

“What are you drawing over there?” you asked.

Nancy held out her hand to you, “Come see.”

You weren’t doing anything in all honesty so her little interruption was welcomed and you removed your garden gloves before letting her take your hand as you stood from the grass. She walked you right over George’s freshly mowed lawn, leaving your footprints behind in the short grass, and soon you were stepping onto the pavement of the driveway. The swirling shapes of colourful chalk filled an impressive amount of the black tar and although most of it was toddler scribbles, you could make out a few stick people and maybe a house or two.

“This is beautiful, Nance.” you complimented as she held your hand proudly, her little fingers wrapped around your index and middle. “I love all the colours!”

She smiled up at you, her eyes as big and beautiful blue as her father’s.

“Hey, wanna do something cool?” you asked.

Nancy nodded.

“Lay down over here in this blank spot.” you guided her over to a clear area of the driveway where she had yet to colour. The three-year-old flopped herself down and laid back so she was flat and you joined her with one of the sticks of chalk. “Now stay nice and still.”

You carefully traced around her with the chalk while she giggled on the ground, so curious as to what you were doing. You spoke to her as you traced her body; going around each leg and along the length of her arms and carefully around her head so as to not snag her hair. When you stood back up, you held your hands out so you could help her up to her feet.

“There,” you gestured to the outline of her body, “A Nancy outline that you can colour and draw clothes on and a face and everything!”

“Woah!” she beamed up at you, “Cool!”

“Think so?” you chuckled, passing over the chalk you held, “Ought to keep you busy, huh?”

“Thank you!” she almost shouted as she dropped to the ground again to get right to work on her silhouette.

The silence that fell over the neighbourhood had you glancing over to the lawn where George had just turned off the mower after completing the front yard. He was absolutely glistening in the sun, skin dotted in sweat from the task of mowing the lawn, and he lifted an arm up to rub his forearm across his forehead to get his hair out of his face. In doing so, his muscles rippled and your teeth naturally caught your bottom lip, feet helping themselves back across his driveway to join him on the grass. He met you halfway until you were standing right in front of each other but his gaze drifted past you to his daughter scribbling away.

“That was a cute thing you did for her there.” he complimented.

You shrugged modestly, “What little girl doesn’t like a little imagination makeover, hm?”

The two of you shared small smiles. There was a pause.

“What were you doing out here?” he asked.

“Gardening.” you answered.

“In your empty garden? In early autumn?”

“Yes.” you crossed your arms over your chest matter-of-factly.

“No other reason?”

You licked your lips but forced yourself not to glance down at his sweaty body standing right before you, “Nope. Just taking care of my property.”

“I see.” George chuckled, certainly disbelieving.

“You know,” you spoke bravely but still keeping your voice down so as to not be heard by little girls or any passing neighbours, “I’m mad at you.”

“Oh?” George set his hands on his hips, “Why’s that?”

“Now Andrew can’t make me fucking cum unless I’m thinking about you.”

His eyebrows peaked for a moment, “Oh, really?”

“Yep. All weekend I haven’t stopped thinking about Friday.”

“Me neither.”

“Andrew came home from work late on Friday night…joined me in bed…and all I was doing was thinking about you and how you made me cum so hard I was shaking.”

“Mm,” George feigned a serious expression upon hearing your confession, “Well, at least your spouse still puts out.”

Your mouth fell open despite your amused smile, “Oh!”

George licked away his grin and glanced towards the street for a moment, his hands sliding into the back pockets of his denim shorts.

But you were right on the response, countering smoothly, “Don’t know why yours wouldn’t when her husband is built like a marble statue and has a tongue that puts linguists to shame.”

He looked right back at you, his eyes dropping to your lips and then to your body before meeting your gaze again, “Don’t know why your husband can’t make his own wife cum on his own when a near stranger got her off twice in one afternoon.”

It was all just flirty playful banter so you weren’t offended in the slightest over someone half dissing your dear husband - especially since it was George of all people. Just having him in front of you made you nervous in the absolute best way and although you weren’t sweaty from working outside like he was, your skin was still burning hot.

Your finger trailed over the thin line of brown hair that led from his navel into his shorts and you offered softly, “Wanna do it again?”

George couldn’t take his eyes off of you, “Do what again? Make you cum?”

You nodded with a soft “mhm”, keeping his lingering stare in the morning sun.

“I’ll be sure to return the favour this time.” you added.

“Oh, really?” George’s soft smirk teased at the corner of his lips, “Is that a promise?”

You knew exactly what you were doing, linking your finger in the belt loop of his shorts to tug on them as you spoke softly but surely right to his face, “Yes, sir.”

George’s breath shuttered slightly and he stepped away from you a bit, “Lemmy put the kid down for her nap and I’ll have a quick shower. Come over in twenty?”

“Don’t shower.” you tisked, “I like you like this.”

With a cock of his head, George asked in such a whisper that you could barely hear him yourself, “Does your husband know you’re this fucking filthy?”

“Maybe I just save it for you.” you countered expertly, both of you turning around together to swap positions on his lawn so you could drift off towards your house and he could do the same towards his.

“Twenty minutes,” he said seriously, “No later.”

You offered him a teasing little two-fingers salute before you were hurrying across your lawn in a near rush. You gathered your wimpy gardening tools (well, more like props) and rushed up your stone steps and right into your house, barely able to kick off your shoes before you were down the hallway and dumping your tools in the sink to keep from dirtying up the spotless house. The stairs pulled you up to your bedroom where you freshened up quickly and made sure you had no grass stains on your jeans or chalk dust on your hands. Then, for the remaining eighteen minutes, you paced your downstairs hallway impatiently.

Making the journey back across your adjacent lawns to George’s front porch was familiar and you took your time so as to not appear too desperate to any possible onlookers from across the street. Nancy’s self portrait was resting beautifully on the driveway and you smiled at it fleetingly and the huge grin she had drawn on herself. Up the few front steps and onto the porch, you knocked three times and stepped back down a step to wait for an answer. Only a few seconds later, George was opening the door for you and ushering you inside, still in his shorts but now donning a white tank top as well.

“Thought I said stay how you were.” you tisked as you stepped inside and he closed the door behind the both of you.

“Felt a little weird tucking my toddler into bed all sweaty and shirtless.” he chuckled as he grabbed the bottom of his tank top and pulled it over his head so it could be tossed onto the bench in the foyer. He made his usual path down the foyer and past the stairs to the kitchen, offering to you over his shoulder as you followed him closely, “Tea?”

“We’re not going to drink it.” you argued lightly.

George turned to face you as he stalked backwards into the kitchen, resting a hand on the counter and the other on the island, “No, but I wouldn’t be a good host unless I offered.”

You pressed a finger between his collarbones and dragged it down between his pecs, “You are already serving me plenty.”

His warm chuckle could be felt under your touch and you bit back your lustful smile as the desire burned stronger within you again. George reached a hand out and tugged gently at the front of your blouse, “I think you have too many clothes on.”

You took his hint and you pulled your shirt off, leaving you standing in your bra and jeans in the middle of his wood trimmed kitchen. The patterned linoleum tile cradled your foot falls as you stepped towards him and urged him backwards with your hand against his chest again, walking in step until he gently hit the counter behind him. George’s eyes bore into yours and the darkness of his pupils kept that lust building inside you until you were sliding a hand up his chest and around the back of his neck and you pulled him closer until your noses brushed. Keeping him waiting, you let the both of you be tortured by the anticipation before your long awaited kiss after your afternoon of passion on Friday.

But after a few seconds, George had enough of it and he grabbed you by the throat and yanked you closer to get his lips right on yours. You had almost fallen right against his chest at the sudden jarring move but you made no motion to complain, clinging onto him gladly as your lips slotted together messily. You shared sloppy kisses in the silence of his house like you had been deprived of each other for months and months. The way he kissed you was erotic in itself and after a few steamy seconds, you tilted your head back to break away from his persistence.

“You okay?” he asked breathily.

You barely offered him an audible response before you were sinking to your knees in front of him and popping the button on his shorts. George shifted in place to stand a bit more comfortably, his hands resting on the edge of the counter behind him as he watched you with his bottom lip between his teeth.

Glancing up at him as you tugged his pants down, you asked, “This okay?”

“Yeah.” he chuckled warmly and kicked his shorts to the side across the floor, “Can’t remember the last time I got a blowjob.”

You tisked pitifully and rubbed your hand over the front of his underwear, following the shape of his hardening cock with your gentle fingers, “Poor, poor man.”

George lolled his head to the side slightly as you touched him, feeling him growing harder with each passing second. His soft pleasurable hums were barely audible but you were extra attuned to him and you looked up his body to his handsome face while your fingers linked in the sides of his boxers.

“If I was your wife,” you pressed a kiss to his abdomen just above the waistband of his underwear before you started to pull them down slowly, “I would wake you up with one every morning.”

George laughed faintly, “You’re an angel on earth, you know that?”

You sent him a little wink as you wrapped a hand around his cock and pressed a wet kiss right to the underside of the tip, pulling a soft groan from his chest before your tongue was following suit. Speaking up to him, you assured him sweetly, “And you have the prettiest dick…who wouldn’t want it in their mouth?”

You shared small smiles before you were wrapping your lips around the tip and sucking on him gently, earning your first proper taste of him. Eyelids fluttering, you moaned softly for more before helping yourself, slowly sinking your mouth deeper around him with your hand securely wrapped around the base of his dick. He was such a good size that you had to open your mouth quite a bit to make sure your teeth didn’t graze him and silently you wondered how it even fit inside you that swiftly the other day.

The excitement of finally having him in your mouth had you drooling and it wasn’t long before your hand was getting slicked up in your spit and it could start to join in on the motions. In slow twisting strokes, your hand kept up the bottom half of his cock while your mouth followed in its pace at the top half, finding a good rhythm together. George exhaled heavily and tilted his head back towards the ceiling, eyes closed, trying to equally focus on the sensations but also distance himself from getting too into it too quickly.

Positioned on your knees between his feet, you felt so perfectly content, tending to his dick in one hand while your other caressed his thigh and the firm muscles that made up his figure. But soon that hand was moving to join your other and it gently kneaded his balls in your warm palm, eyes glancing up at his face to gauge his reaction. The waver across his expression was paired beautifully with a gentle moan and you took that as your go-ahead. You didn’t need to do much as you just held them with a little bit of grip, your focus being all on his cock instead.

Your mouth craved him deeper and you nestled yourself farther down his shaft until you were gagging faintly around him and picking back up those greedy bobs of your head. The filthy wet sound filled the otherwise silent kitchen and George let out the prettiest moan you had ever heard while he dropped one hand to rest at the back of your head. You lead your motions with your tongue, making sure to touch him in all the right spots every time you dropped your mouth down around him and pulled back with the perfect amount of suction that had his jaw falling slack.

“Fuck-” he chuckled shakily, “Do you kiss your husband with that mouth?”

You pulled off of him with a messy slurp, spit dripping down your chin as you answered his rhetorical question with a proud, “I do more to him than just kiss him with this mouth.”

“Lucky fucking man, holy shit.” George groaned.

“Yeah, you really are.” you spoke up at him from your knees before swirling your tongue around the head of his cock.

His hand on the back of your head pulled you down on him again smoothly and you gladly picked up where you left off, choking yourself on his cock until he was completely coated in your spit and his face mimicked that of an expression you’d find in a dirty magazine. You swore he could have easily taken centrefold in your eyes; maybe you were the lucky one to be on your knees for him like that. But you still gave him your best work that was guided by his hand in your hair and he kept himself quiet through a bitten lip as the pleasurable sounds started to come a little stronger now.

Then he was gently tugging at your hair to get you to let up with a breathy, “Stop.”

You sat back from him and coughed faintly from the absence of him in your throat and you wiped your spitty chin with the back of your hand, “What?”

“Get up.” he grabbed your arm and brought you to your feet, “Bend over.”

The orange countertop of his nearby kitchen island caught you gracefully and you gladly bent forward over it with your forearms against the cool surface. George’s hands worked quickly at the button and zipper on your jeans and yanked them and your underwear down your thighs before stepping right up close behind you.

“Fuck, please.” you exhaled, trying to look behind you to get a glimpse of him.

He bent at the knees slightly just to get that perfect angle to nudge the head of his cock against your dripping cunt and the first graze had you absolutely shuttering. He teased you a little more as he dragged it up and down a few slow times, speaking to you, “I can’t wait until Nancy starts school so I can fuck you every day of the week, uninterrupted, where we can be as loud as we want.”

The realization that he would be wanting and willing to keep up this escapade for that long and thensome had your heart racing and was just enough of a distraction just before he finally pushed inside you. Your hands fell flat against the island with a tight gasp from your throat and George set his hand on your shoulder to hold you steady as he slipped in deeper. His quiet groan was stiff and rich and you felt your muscles throb around him greedily.

“Yes, please.” you whimpered, even as his other hand wrapped around to press his palm against your mouth. You still managed to mumble against his hot skin, “Please, sir.”

“Oh my God.” he groaned, starting to thrust into you strongly.

Your hands slid across the smooth countertop to wrap around the sides of the island, gripping onto the edge of the counter tightly as he helped himself to your body. You were already soaked for him and he was dripping in your spit, meaning that right off the bat his otherwise quiet kitchen was privy to the lewd wet sounds of your cunt taking every inch of him with every hard thrust. The reverberations could be felt right up your spine and you gaped against his palm as you stared straight ahead at the fridge on the opposite side of the kitchen, eyes fluttering with the intense pleasure that you had missed so terribly over the weekend.

You tried to stay quiet but the moans that tumbled from your chest were almost completely involuntary and George’s hand tightened over your mouth and he hushed you over your shoulder. He leaned in close almost enough for his body to mould against the shape of yours while he fucked you over the side of the island.

“Get too loud and I’ll stop.” he threatened against your ear.

“No.” you choked out, the simple word muffled by his palm. You reached a hand back to grab his waist behind you, trying to make sure he kept going despite his warning. He was already going so aggressive with it that you could hardly get a good grip on him and you ended up having to slam your hand back down against the countertop. “Please don’t stop!”

“God, you really like it rough, don’t you?” George tisked.

He let go of your mouth and, instead, wrapped his slender fingers around your throat to yank you back towards his chest. You kept your back arched the best you could still with how you now were forced almost straight up and his heavy warm breaths against your ear and your neck were sending you dizzy. Your fingers magnetized to his hair, tangling in the messy and sweaty strands as if in an attempt to pull him closer into you. The filthy clap of his skin against yours was invigorating, falling in steady rhythm with his rough thrusts that made your toes curl against the linoleum tile and behind a bitten lip, you tried to smother your blissful moans the best you could.

“He doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?” George taunted against your ear without missing a beat.

“Not anymore.” you stumbled out.

“Anymore?” George chuckled lowly across your neck, his hand still wrapped snugly around your throat to hold your head back almost against his shoulder, “Could he ever make you feel this good?”

It was hard to think when he was fucking you like that, hard to think back six years when you and your husband were newly acquainted and had the passion of Manhattan and nightlife running through you. It was ages ago now, a lifetime ago even, and it all felt so hazy and muted when George had you like that - it was hard to think of anything else but him.

“Answer me.” he ordered against your ear, still shoving into you in rough strokes that pulled the air from your lungs.

“No, sir.” you said squeakily, “He couldn’t.”

“That’s why you come to me.” George spoke lowly, his hot breath tickling your ear and the nape of your neck in time with his precise thrusts, “That’s why you think of me when he’s fucking you.”

“Yes, sir.” you whimpered, gripping onto the sides of the island again, face screwed up in pleasure.

In a swift movement, he let go of your throat in exchange for a grip at the back of your neck and he pushed you right down onto the island so you were bent over it properly, your cheek pressed against the cool countertop. You gasped sharply in surprise but didn’t object, almost thrilled by the weight of his hands holding you down and the edge of the counter digging into your upper thighs. Giving up control to him was so easy and so ridiculously rewarding, you were already so addicted.

“Look at us, just fucking using each other.” George spoke down to your through his teeth, his focus narrowed in on the motions of his hips as he rammed into you hard over and over again, “Can’t remember the last time I had a perfect fucking pussy like this to just have my way with.”

“It’s yours.” you stumbled out, “I’m yours.”

“Uh huh.” George’s hand tightened on the back of your neck and his other pressed you stronger down against the counter between your shoulder blades. If you could have seen him, you would have been blessed by the sight of his face taken by intense pleasure, his head tilting back to look up at the ceiling with a mouthed curse in near disbelief. But then he was looking back down at you bent over for him, held down under his hands so willingly, and he audibly moaned, “Fuck, yeah, you’re mine.”

The angle he had you at was so good that you swore you were seeing stars, feeling him in every inch of your body like he was completely taking you over. It was lust to an extent you had never felt before and you could only gape dumbly across the kitchen as he held you down and fucked you until your thighs were quivering. The gasping moan that fell from your chest even took you by surprise as your insides churned with pleasure and you could feel yourself tightening up around him, squeezing his entire cock until that warm pressure that spread across your hips had you drooling.

“I’m gonna cum-” you warned shakily, knuckles turning white with how tightly you gripped the edge of the countertop.

“Go on then.” George encouraged.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, don’t stop!” you squeaked, scrunching your eyes shut tightly as it kept building and building inside you.

George didn’t move an inch as he kept going exactly how you needed even if he was starting to get a little worn from the intensity of it all. His deep groans were invigorating and his hands on your body drew fire across your skin and you kept yourself in the moment with absolute ease.

You were a messy chant of ‘yes’ and ‘please’ and other unintelligible words you could hardly remember saying. And, when he made you cum, your entire body shuddered against the counter and you bit down onto your own forearm to keep yourself quiet as your eyes literally rolled shut and the sounds poured from your mouth without mercy. George had already been close enough by your mouth so it didn’t take him long to follow after you, sent into waves of pleasure himself by the addicting vice-like grip of your cunt that literally pulled the orgasm from his body.

He slumped over you a little as he shoved hard into you, his hair falling over his eyes as he came inside you with rich wavering grunts. The feeling of him spurting warmly inside you had you wriggling back on him some more, grinding against his cock to make sure he was giving you every last drop as deep as he could. His hands left your body to set on the countertop on either side of you as he leaned down to kiss your neck softly, humming faintly in the tapering off of his orgasm that he shared with you.

“Fuck.” you huffed, shuffling your forearms under you so you could get your chest off the counter enough to find his lips with yours over your shoulder for a few breathless kisses.

“Was that what you wanted?” he teased as he pulled away from your sloppy kiss.

“Mm, mhm.” you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip to hide your smile, eyes flicking between his gaze and his swollen plush lips. You reached a hand up to pull his face back in for a few more off-centered kisses before he was standing up properly again.

George carefully pulled out and then shuffled up your jeans for you, giving your bum a little smack over the denim and the surprise had your muscles fluttering enough to feel yourself leaking into your underwear. How dirty and glorious.

“Do I have your permission to shower off this sweat now?” he asked as he gave your hips a squeeze, letting you catch your breath for a moment as he stood in the nude behind you.

You stood yourself up straighter too, leaving your hands resting aimlessly on the orange countertop as you replied to him over your shoulder, staring him right in the eyes, “Only if I can join you.”

George’s little smirk that grazed his expression had you turning around to face him and you slung your arms around his shoulders to pull him right up close to you, chest to chest. His hands fell to your waist and he leaned in to pull a few slow kisses from your lips before he answered in a whisper, “Okay.”

Upstairs in the Russell’s bathroom, you found yourself almost too easily dropping your clothes onto the tile floor while George started the water in the shower. He had made sure to lock the door just in case his napping three-year-old woke up from down the hall and came looking for him. The cassette player radio sat on the blue bathroom countertop, the metal antenna angled upwards to gather the radio station signals through the steamy warm air as the shower water grew hotter. The modest bathroom was easily filled with the quiet music of that month’s hits as you stepped into the porcelain bathtub together and George pulled the geometric shower curtain closed behind you.

Still buzzing from your hookup in the kitchen, you shared grinning smiles as your arms swirled around each other; George taking to your waist and you taking to his shoulders. Your chests pressed together closely until water was building in the crevice between your breasts and his pecs and trailing down your naked bodies. His lips were completely addicting to you and you kissed him with every ounce of passion you had in you, even as he kept up expertly with your eager pace. The radio and the shower muted the sounds of your kisses, sending you into a steamy cloud of white-noise isolation together.

After a few moments, you pulled away from his plush lips with a sigh, “Is this too domestic?”

George licked his lips with a sigh of his own and a passive response, “I dunno. I’ve never done this before.”

You smiled, “Me neither.”

“Haven’t gotten my hands on a manual for the right way to cheat on your spouse.” he whispered.

You tangled your hand on the back of his wet hair and pulled his mouth back on yours for a few more kisses, speaking to him between them, “Is it bad that I don’t feel guilty?”

George’s lips dusted across your cheek, “I dunno.”

“Because it feels good.” you mumbled, tilting your head to the side as he kissed down your neck and your eyes fluttered shut, “It feels really fucking good.”

“Mhm.”

“Friday was my wedding anniversary.”

His kisses halted on your neck for a moment as your words settled in the steamy shower around you. He lifted his head up to look you in the eye, searching for your feelings in your expression, his mouth formed in a small ‘o’ and his eyebrows furrowed slightly in the middle. You reached up to gently caress the crease between his brows away.

“I forgot.” you confessed, “Andy brought me home flowers and everything like he always does. He really tried to make me feel special but all I could think about was you.”

“I’m sorry.” George stumbled out.

You tisked softly and slid your hands down his chest, “What on Earth do you have to be sorry for?”

“I dunno.” he said for the nth time since you stepped in the shower, pulling you closer by your waist as if being chest to chest wasn’t close enough, “I just feel like I need to say it.”

“Well, you don’t.” you promised and leaned in to kiss him once, “I promise.”

“And promise me that if this gets too much that you’ll tell me and we’ll stop.” George insisted politely, “I don’t want to ruin your life.”

“My gosh, and I don’t want to ruin yours.” you tisked, taking his face in your hands to pull him in for more kisses.

You shared the warmth of the shower water together, kissing slowly under the steady stream, hands roaming naked bodies like it was something you had done for years. You swore that there was no way he could ruin your life. Right there, just how it was, was so perfect. That silly no-strings-attached affair with your neighbour of all people made life feel vibrant and new and worthwhile again. You had once thought that life was beautiful and perfect but it wasn’t until you had a taste of what could have been that you started to see tears in the fabric of your marriage. Maybe there was a way to have the best of both sides.

You pulled away from George’s lips with one more kiss and you bumped your nose against his, offering in a whisper behind the symphony of music and water, “Turn around. Lemmy wash your back.”

He let you, facing away from you against the shower wall to give you a trusting view of his naked body. You took the washcloth and soap and lathered him up under gentle hands, caressing each curve of his figure in sudsy circles that the warm water washed away with ease. You kissed the back of his neck and stood right up close behind him so your skin was pressed to his, taking your time on his handsome body to give it the loving attention it so deserved. Your heart thudded heavily in your chest, warmth from more than the steamy shower water ghosting across your skin, and you couldn’t help yourself but wrap your arms around his waist and lean your cheek against his shoulder blade.

How could something so morally wrong feel so right?

“Two tickets to Crimes of Passion, please.”

“That’ll be $6.72.”

Andrew shuffled through his wallet to pull out some bills and he slid them through the opening in the glass of the box office. The attendant counted the money and then turned to collect the tickets. As she did, you slid your hand around your husband’s arm and leaned closer to him habitually, thrilled to finally be on an adult-only date with him after so long. One of the older sisters to one of Richard’s teammates babysat in her spare time and it was about time you took her up on that offer. Your steamy fling with the neighbour seemed to have drifted from your mind as you settled into your date night; holding hands in the car and standing close together at the box office. Just a reminder of the simplicity of life and how much you still loved your husband.

The box office attendant returned the change to Andrew and slid you your tickets with a flat, “Enjoy the show.”

You thanked her in unison and then Andrew was leading you towards the doors of the theatre. He held the door for you so you could go in first and your hands naturally found each other as you approached the concession stand. Stopping a few feet away on the multi-coloured geometric patterned carpet, you eyed the menu above the counter to decide on what to order. You were so focused that you didn’t notice Andrew staring at you until you were startled by his quick kiss to your cheek.

Glancing over at him, you chuckled, “What was that for?”

He shrugged, “No reason.”

You wanted to reply with something flirty until your eye was caught by someone disappearing into the theatre, someone who you swore looked a lot like George. Stunned to silence, you just turned back to the concession stand as your husband guided you by the hand to the cash register. He ordered you a popcorn to share and two Cokes and you also added on a box of sour patch kids gummies.

Andrew tisked fondly at your order as the cashier totalled it up, “Just like our first date.”

You just leaned into him warmly and rested your cheek on his shoulder.

Once the snacks were paid for and in your hands, you headed towards the double doors leading into your corresponding theatre as written on your ticket. The trailers were already playing as you entered and the dimly lit theatre welcomed you in. The seats were only about half full and as you started to make your way up the stairs to find a row, someone waving caught your eye. Sure enough, what you had figured was a hallucination was actually reality, as George and his wife were there as well and they were waving you over with smiles.

You glanced back at Andrew, “Do you wanna sit with them?”

“Sure. I don’t mind.” he nodded.

You led the way into their row and you all greeted each other politely, your spouses ignorant to the way you and George stared at each other just a little longer. Since you entered the row first, you were in the seat between George and Andrew; a perfect metaphor for your current internal dilemma you were faced with.

“Fancy seeing you two here.” George greeted as you got settled.

He was holding his wife’s hand on the arm rest between them, unmoving even as you joined them.

“Great minds think alike.” Andrew replied with a smile, “A good ol’ Saturday kid free night.”

“Did you get a babysitter too?” you asked them.

“Yeah,” Jennifer nodded, “One of the sisters of one of the boys on James’ baseball team.”

“Us too.” you chuckled.

“Really great minds then.” George concluded.

You had to force yourself not to look at his soft smiling lips. You all turned to the screen.

Once your snacks were arranged and you were comfortable, Andrew tucked his arm around your shoulders and you tried not to think about the way George stared at you as you scooted a little closer to your husband. You were there on a date after all and you hadn’t expected to see him there, yet alone be sitting beside him.

It wasn’t long until the movie started and the theatre was dimmed into near perfect darkness, illuminated by only the light of the screen and the flickering scenes. Almost right away, the underlying theme of the film was apparent and its ‘R’ rating was very obvious as the salacious plot was layered on thickly. The main character - although a prostitute - was torn between two men who both shared sufficient love scenes with her that had you shifting in your seat. Hitting a little too close to home.

George nudged you as if sensing your slight unsettledness and when you looked over at him, he held out the yellow box to you with a soft, “Raisinets?”

You smiled fondly at him and reached into the box to take a few, “Thanks.”

When you offered him some sour patch kids in return with a tip of the box, his eyes lit up, “My favourites.”

Jennifer elbowed him from his other side, “Shh.”

Andrew glanced over at the three of you for a second before looking back to the screen, unbothered by you shaking some of the gummy snacks into George’s open palm. Then, you turned back to the movie yourself, munching on your shared handful of Raisinets, comfortable under your husband’s arm.

It was hard to focus on the movie as every passionate and dark scene that played in front of you had your mind straying, torn between the men you were sandwiches between, although the memories with the one on your left were more recent and much more thrilling. Your brain whispered to you that you and George could have recreated this movie. You shifted again to hush your mind.

A slight graze against your thigh had you looking down to your lap, only to see George’s hand underneath your shared armrest with his fingers ghosting along the side of your jeans. You licked away your smile at his sneaky move and slowly inched your hand off your lap to join his between the two of you. His pinky brushed against yours without turning his attention away from the film like a real professional and your teeth sunk into your bottom lip to hide your smile as you linked your pinky with his.

Sizzling electricity flowed between the two of you and you could feel it tingling up your arm. Your small diamond ring on your left hand nudged against his knuckle as if as a reminder of what sins you were committing together. It was all expressed in the film playing in front of you, shoving right in the faces of your oblivious spouses. Your discreet touches were so risky but, like everything you found yourself with George, you couldn’t seem to stop.

Once the movie was done and the lights were back on, you separated once more and you turned your attention away from each other and to your spouses. Andrew retrieved the empty bag of popcorn from the ground as the credits rolled up the screen and he looked over at you as you collected your purse.

In a hushed voice, he confessed to you in an amused tone, “That film was so dirty that I swear it almost got me hard in the cinema.”

“Oh my gosh.” you laughed, trying to ignore the near puddle you were sitting in more thanks to your sneaky neighbour than the film, “You’d have to put on your own little movie then.”

Andrew licked away his smile and gave you a little nudge, “Very funny.”

“I’d pay to see it.” you teased as you stood up from your seats.

He just wrapped his arm around your shoulders again and pulled you close to kiss your cheek and then the corner of your mouth and before he could get your lips, you turned your head to your neighbours smoothly. George was already looking at you and part of you felt embarrassed - embarrassed by the affection of your own husband - but you played it off coolly and asked them how they enjoyed the movie. Jennifer wasn’t crazy about it but George complimented the acting with rave reviews, explaining how it was unlike anything he had seen before as the four of you walked out of the theatre together.

Andrew could barely be more than a few centimeters away from you the entire walk to the parking lot and when his arm grew tired around your shoulders, his hand fell lazily into yours instead. It was rare that he was so publicly affectionate but you had to admit it was nice - even if you wished George wasn’t there to witness it. It was a strange balance of content and guilt and embarrassment that you forced yourself to pull the positives out of.

You said goodbye to your neighbours once you had to part ways to your respective cars and you had to stop yourself from habitually moving in to give George a hug. Your mind whirled as you climbed into the passenger seat of your station wagon and Andrew walked around the other side to get behind the wheel. He turned the key in the ignition but let the engine run as he turned to you instead.

“This was a really fun night.” he confessed.

You lolled your head to the side to look at him with a small smile, “It really was.”

“We should really do this more often. And if we now have neighbour friends that want to double date, that’s even better.”

You swallowed your pride, “Yeah, for sure.”

Andrew leaned in and his hand ghosted across your cheek to guide your lips to his, melting into slow tender kisses in the front seat of your family car. You could taste the intent behind his kiss and you smiled against his mouth as he pulled away for a moment.

“Mm, I need to take you to dirty movies more often.” you giggled, pressing a gentle hand to his chest over the fabric of his tank top tucked under his white denim vest, “I like when you’re all touchy and all hot and bothered.”

“Hot and bothered?” he repeated, thoroughly amused, in that sweet accent of his that just made you pull him in again to kiss your smiling lips.

You kissed in the front seat of your car for a few moments with hands faintly pulling at clothes and the back of necks, desperate to get impossibly closer. Part of you didn’t even want to leave the parking lot; just willing to throw caution into the wind and pull him into the backseat with you. But, when you made a move to push his vest off, he broke away from your kiss.

“We gotta go home.” he chuckled.

“But our kid is at home.” you mumbled with a pout as he straightened himself out in his seat, “I wanna be risky with you.”

Andrew kissed you once more before putting the car in drive and his hand fell to your thigh, “Another time.”

It was always another time.

Another time didn’t come all week - at least with your husband. While your spouses were at work, you and George certainly made the most of the empty houses the best you could while he still had to watch his daughter. Because of that, you only managed to get together one afternoon (and almost a second before the three-year-old nearly caught you) but that was enough to keep you somewhat satisfied for the week.

When Friday rolled around, the last thing you had really expected was to be standing in George’s foyer in a party dress. Andrew had a work event that you were actually invited to and you were certainly not going to pass up an opportunity to join him in the city for extra one-on-one time when you could take it. In your periwinkle dress, Richard stood beside you with his small suitcase in hand, ready for his sleepover with James who had just come barrelling down the hallway. The young boys embraced messily and you barely managed to crouch down to get a hug and kiss from your son before he was slipping away to play with his friend.

“Thanks again for having him stay over.” you said to Jennifer as you stood back up.

“No problem at all.” she shrugged. Still in her work skirt and blazer, she hadn’t even had a chance to take off her shoes yet upon her arrival home by the time you showed up. “We’re just glad that James has found such a good friend.”

“And one that just lives next door at that.” you chuckled.

She smiled politely at you and then turned towards the kitchen, calling out, “George! Are you ready? You’re going to make her miss her train at this rate.”

“Yeah! Coming!” he called back.

Then, he was emerging from around the corner, half distracted still with a tea towel still draped over his shoulder.

“Sorry, was just putting the last of the dinner on.”

Jennifer snatched the tea towel off his shoulder as George got his first look at you. He nearly stopped in his tracks although under the eye of his wife, he had to play it off coolly. You held your clutch purse in your hands and had to look away from him to keep from blushing like it was your senior high school prom or something just as ridiculous. The voluminous periwinkle frills of your sleeveless party dress encircled the top hem across the sweetheart neckline over your chest and around to your back, leaving your collarbones exposed to house a string of pearls. The snug bodice followed the shape of your figure into a stitched V-across your hips where the fabric flowed outwardly into a satin skirt that rested around your knees.

“Wow, you look amazing.” George complimented passively, although once he walked past his wife to grab his car keys from the small hook beside the door, his eyes were raking shamelessly down your body.

“Thanks.” you answered softly.

He turned back to Jennifer, “You most likely won’t need to touch the dinner. It should be ready for me to serve when I get back.”

“Okay, good.” she chuckled and they both leaned in to share a brief kiss. “Drive safe.”

“I will.” George opened the door and ushered you outside first.

Although Jennifer closed the door behind the both of you before you had even stepped off the porch, you still walked at a bit of a distance from each other towards the driveway and George’s family car. It was still warm from Jennifer’s drive home from the train station that George was now taking you to.

“Thanks for driving me.” you said as you got in the passenger seat.

“Of course.” George replied as he turned the key in the ignition, “Anything for you.”

His eyes darted towards his house as if scanning to make sure no one was looking out the windows before he reached an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in for a quick sneaky kiss.

As you both settled back in your seats with giddy little grins, he complimented again, “And you look so fucking beautiful.”

“Thank you.” you breathed, glancing down at the skirt of your dress that was draped out over your lap in stain waves. Your white heels were resting politely on the floor of his car, your knees together, and your hands folded over your clutch purse like a proper lady.

George pulled out of the driveway and headed down the street in the direction of the train station and, as you peered out the window at the passing evening neighbourhood, you couldn’t help but try to figure out the feelings that were burning within you. On one hand, you were excited to see Andrew and have this special night with him and have a chance to reconnect as husband and wife, but, on the other hand, you had George beside you who made your heart race like it was the honeymoon phase all over again. As if reading your mind, George reached across the front seat and set his hand on your knee, caressing your skin with his thumb, and the shivers that rose at his touch tingled right up between your legs.

The train station was mostly emptying as commuters from the city were heading home during the peak rush hour chaos. You were one of the few who were heading into the city at such a late time as the others who were on the same page as you were ready for a Friday night out in Manhattan with their friends. That used to be you. How different life was now.

George parked and you looked over at each other with calm smiles, his hand giving your thigh a tender squeeze. In the privacy of his car, you leaned in to kiss his soft lips, lingering there for a few seconds before pulling away again. His hand lifted from your lap to the side of your neck as he licked his lips in anticipation and pulled you in for more. You met halfway for a few more close-mouthed kisses with your hands still staying perfectly still on your lap.

When he pulled away, he glanced down at your body, eyes lingering on the strapless dress wrapped snugly around your chest with the frills accenting the sweetheart neckline, “This dress…is unreal.”

“Think it’s okay?” you asked, reaching up to nudge at some of the frills.

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re gonna be the best looking one there.” George draped his arm around the back of your seat, “But that is usually the case.”

You smiled sweetly at him and leaned in for more kisses, easily locking his lips with yours as the passion in his modest car rose by the second. His hand on your face pulled you in to deepen your kiss, his tongue teasing yours, and when you opened up for him, you shared soft pleasant hums of appreciation.

“God, your husband’s a lucky fucking man.” George mumbled between kisses, “He better be showing you off tonight.”

You giggled softly into his mouth, blindly shifting your hand from your lap to his chest and up to his shoulder. His head tilted naturally to the side a little more to deepen your kiss and the way he took control had your insides twirling with desire. Your fingers tangled in the back of his soft hair, tugging gently at the roots to get him impossibly closer, and George moaned softly into your mouth at your insistence.

He pulled away after a few more seconds with a bite to your bottom lip, “Looking like that and kissing me like this…you’re gonna send me home to my wife with a boner.”

You smiled proudly and whispered against his lips, “And she won’t even do anything to help.”

George chuckled lightly and gave you a few more kisses before answering, “No. I’ll have to have a wank in the shower and think of you.”

You broke away from his kiss with your hand sliding down to his chest to put some more space between you, glancing down to his lap habitually before saying, “I’d offer to just bend over and fix it myself if I didn’t have a train to catch.”

George’s hand around your neck startled you pleasantly as he tugged you in for more sloppy feverish kisses and your fingers tightened on the material of his t-shirt. He kissed you like it was the last time you were going to see each other, like he wanted to make sure you didn’t forget him, and his tongue helped himself to your mouth between ungraceful impolite kisses. Dizzy from the way he kissed you, when he let you break away, you were panting despite the grin plastered across your face, lipstick slightly smudged and cheeks flushed pink.

You pulled down the sun visor in his car to clean up your makeup and he watched you with his hand on your thigh as you opened your clutch purse to reapply your lipstick and powder quickly. His hand squeezed your thigh and slid up your skirt and back down tauntingly until you had to nudge him away.

“I’ll see you.” you said with a smile as you opened the door.

“See you, gorgeous. Have a good night.” George wished you off as you climbed out of the car.

You leaned back into the car and pointed a warning finger at him, “Take good care of my boy.”

He grabbed your finger and pulled you closer to leave you with one more kiss, staining his lips in the fresh application of your pink lipstick, before he promised you with a soft, “Of course.”

You almost didn’t want to leave him but with a final wave through the windshield as you headed towards the station building, you hurried on your way. After buying your ticket and finding your seat on the train, you forced yourself to look forward to the man who was waiting for you at your destination despite the uncomfortable ache that burned between your legs for the man who had dropped you off. Torn between two and managing to play it off, life felt thrilling.

It was about an hour to Grand Central Station and, as promised, Andrew was waiting for you in the main terminal. You saw him from the top of the stairs, leaning against one of the old stone walls that framed the impressive arched atrium amongst the bustling Manhattan crowd around him. He spotted you at almost the same time and with a warm smile, pushed himself away from the wall to meet you as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

“There’s my girl.” he greeted sweetly as your hands naturally found each other’s and he gave you a brief kiss before taking a second to admire you in your dress, “You look beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous.”

“Thank you, honey.” you smiled.

“How was the train ride? Alright?”

“It was fine.” you kept one hand in his as he started to lead you off through the busy station to the main doors, “How was work?”

“Lowkey, which was nice for once. Just getting set up for the party tonight, mostly.” Andrew said.

You emerged outside together into the crazy chaos of Manhattan as the sun set behind the skyscrapers and the lights and sounds of the city guided you towards the crosswalk. Standing together on the curb, hand in hand, you scooted a little closer to him and tucked your free hand around his bicep just to be closer. It was thrilling to keep the secret that before you got on the train you were making out with another man in his car and, now, you were the perfect image of husband and wife back in the city where you met. And Andrew was completely clueless.

“I’m glad you could come.” he spoke to you behind the noise of the city.

You looked at him fondly, “Me too.”

His office building wasn’t too far away from Grand Central Terminal and after only a brief walk, you found yourselves in the elevator and headed up to the floor. Andrew reminded you about the context of the party - that it was one of the higher up’s retirement party - and he was going to make sure to introduce you around so you knew who was who. It had been a while since you had been around his co-workers and although you knew them somewhat, there was a lot that had changed apparently.

As promised, once out on the office floor surrounded by nicely dressed employees and a few celebratory streamers and balloons, framed in floor to ceiling glass that overlooked the New York wonder around you, Andrew took you around by the hand and introduced you proudly as his wife to his co-workers. A few recognized you but a few others had to be filled in but were generally nothing but polite. Some of the higher ranking individuals made sure to praise Andrew’s hard work well to you - as if you didn’t already know - to which your modest husband went a little pink in the cheeks and brushed it off with a smile.

It wasn’t long before the introductions and brief discussion about families and kids naturally fell into conversations about work. By then you had a drink in your hand with your other tucked in the crook of Andrew’s arm as you stood at his side while he chatted. Time and place called for work talk since there wasn’t much else that made sense to talk with co-workers about but you couldn’t help but hide a yawn behind your glass before playing it off with a lengthy sip. The fruity alcohol burned slightly as you finished the last bit in the bottom of your icy glass and your bored mind kept straying to George and what you had gotten up to in his car earlier. Lingering in that unfulfilled puddle of desire, it was easy to transfer that need towards your handsome husband in his collared button up and tie.

You tugged on his arm gently and when he looked over at you, you whispered to him, “Come get another drink with me?”

Andrew looked back to the small group he had been mingling with, “Excuse us.”

He took his hand out of his pocket to intertwine your fingers as you walked together across the office floor towards the glass framed conference room where the table was stocked full of drinks and food. There was even a hired bartender that had a cooler with him and could mix up a few simple drinks if you wanted and that was where you went first, asking for a refill on your cocktail while Andrew grabbed a small plate and picked at the snack arrangement of finger sandwiches and vegetables and dip.

With your drink in hand, you joined him with a sigh, “I’m starving.”

He offered out a slice of carrot to you and you ate it out of his fingers before he added a few more to his plate, “I got us a few things to share.”

Your hand slid over his shoulders and down his back and you whispered to him softly against his shoulder and the blue fabric of his button up shirt, “You look so unbelievably handsome tonight.”

Andrew offered you a smile in reply, his brown eyes shining, but before he could answer, everyone was called out to the main office space by the CEO clinking his fork against his glass. The two of you joined the rest of the large group and lingered near the back to share your small plate of snacks while the CEO spoke highly about the retiring individual and all that he had accomplished for the company.

Although you didn’t care much about the man who was retiring since you hardly knew him, you were there to support Andrew and that’s where your attention lay. Once your plate was empty, Andrew had his arm around your waist to hold you close at his side with his gaze on the speech going on across the office. You set your hand on his back and trailed ghostly twirling shapes up his spine and back down and when he glanced at you, you just smiled softly at him.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

You merely nodded and he kissed your cheek.

The speeches wrapped up not long later and the music was turned louder to really begin the party. Some people even started dancing while most lingered around to mingle and chat and there were more than a few wives in attendance who looked as bored as ever, hearing their husbands drone on about work talk.

“Andy,” you glanced back at your husband, “can we sneak off for a bit?”

“Sneak off?” he chuckled, “What for?”

You were so obviously staring at his lips but you forced your eyes to his when you made some passive excuse, “It’s just a little loud. Can I see your desk?”

Andrew smiled widely and set the empty plate down on the random desk you had been leaning against together and he took your hand, “Alright. Right this way, my lady.”

Although the music from the party was played through the office speakers, the farther away from the large group you walked, the less the added noise of conversation interfered with your mind. Across the stretch of the office floor, Andrew led you by the hand towards his desk and weaved through the endless rows of desks and chairs and filing cabinets to get there. Near the middle of it all, he fell to a stop in front of a desk that looked just like all the others with a small chunky Macintosh computer monitor and a neat row of files.

You helped yourself to his desk chair and you leaned your arms on his desk to admire where he spent more time than he did with you. The framed wedding photo of the two of you was set right in your line of vision and you reached over to pick it up with a smile. You could see the slight bump of growing Richard that was not quite hidden well enough under your white fall dress in the picture taken outside the New York City city hall. Andrew leaned back against his desk beside you, watching you admire all his little belongings he had at his desk to make it feel more personalized and homey. When you set the wedding photo back down, you smiled at the baby picture of Richard right beside it, your little boy sitting happily on the floral couch in your tiny apartment almost four years ago.

“What do you think?” he asked.

You looked up at him from your spot in his chair, “Very nice.”

“Yeah?”

You glanced at the small box-like monitor in front of you, “You even have a computer!”

“Really neat, isn’t it?” Andrew tapped the top, “It really speeds up our work sometimes. Truly incredible.”

“And you have pictures.” you gushed, sliding a hand across his desk again to poke at the wedding picture.

“Of course, I have pictures. I always like having you around.”

You looked up at him and he lifted a hand up to gently caress your cheek with his thumb, his simple touch swirling that strange mixture of lust and guilt around in your stomach. Searching for a distraction for your mind, you stood up from the chair and situated yourself in front of him, standing between his feet in his dress shoes and his hands found your waist. You leaned against his chest as he was resting back on his desk and your arms draped around his shoulders, letting your lips capture his softly.

In the quiet corner of the office separate from the rest of the party going on only a few metres away, you kissed slowly at his desk, arms around each other so tenderly. It was so easy to kiss him; you had the history together that made it easy. You moved so well together like it was a rehearsed dance and every move was anticipated, knowing just how he would tilt his head and just about when his hands would move across your waist. His palms took to the curve of your ass over your satin dress and with a gentle squeeze of your flesh, you were moaning softly into his mouth, tugging at the back of his neck to get him to kiss you harder.

“Okay, sugar,” Andrew chuckled out of your kiss as he turned his head away from you, “We should go back.”

You peppered kisses across his cheek, staining his skin in faint lipstick prints, making your way back to his lips, ignoring his pitch. He kissed you a little longer, pulling you right up against his body greedily as he did, and you could have stayed there for hours.

“Seriously,” Andrew patted your bum to get you to let up after a few more seconds, “we can’t do this here.”

“Take me to the bathroom.” you pitched, batting your mascara lined lashes at him as your hands dragged down his chest.

Andrew grasped your wrists in his hands, “We have a whole empty house waiting for us later.”

“But that’s later.” you said, “This is now.”

“This is also my office.” he whispered to you, “My boss can turn the corner at any moment or walk into the bathroom at any moment. We can’t afford for me to lose this job.”

You pouted, “Right.”

“When we get home,” he said against your cheek, “I promise.”

“Do you?”

It was out of your mouth before you could think about it, sounding so doubtful of his word right to his face, but who could blame you?

Andrew blinked at you in half surprise and he nodded once, his eyebrows furrowing slightly, “Yes. I promise.”

You pulled a tight smile and nodded back, brushing it under the rug until he would be able to really follow through, and you stepped away from him with your hands falling into his, “Come dance with me then.”

Andrew pushed himself away from the desk with a loving smile and let you pull him back towards the party and the noise of the office. Once you were back amongst the crowd, your hands joined and you moved together to the upbeat music with his co-workers, not unlike how you would share late night dances in Manhattan clubs when you were freshly twenty and freshly met. Only you two in the crowd. Although, your mind couldn’t help but drift to George and wondering what he was doing at that moment.

When the party was over and you both had enough drinks to be slightly buzzed, you and Andrew returned to Grand Central Terminal to catch your train back home. The coach was quite empty at the late hour it was since not many suburbia-folk were leaving the city at nearly midnight; most were long at home and in bed. Because of this, you had your train car to yourself as it trekked along out of the city and towards the quiet outskirts and the tamer life on the border of Connetiticut.

Your feet were tossed up on Andrew’s lap beside you and his hand was running up and down your shin carelessly as you stared at each other and eased into the uncomfortable train seats. You broke your momentary silence first with a soft, “Tonight reminded me of when we were younger and cooler.”

Andrew smiled over at you with a playful scoff, “Speak for yourself. I’m still cool.”

“Sometimes.” you humoured him.

He gently pulled one of your heels off and helped himself to your foot, pressing his thumbs into the sole to give your tired and sore feet a massage. You watched him for a moment, debating delving into a conversation that had been on your mind for a while, but the liquid courage in your system helped to answer that question.

“Do you miss life before Ritchie?” you asked him.

Andrew looked up at you again with furrowed brows, “What do you mean? I love our son, I can’t imagine life without him.”

“I know, I know. Me too.” you assured him easily, “I just mean…when we didn’t have the responsibilities we do now. When we could go out - no questions asked - on a Friday night and dance at clubs until we could hardly stand and come back to our shitty little apartment and fuck like rabbits.”

“My God.” Andrew laughed, habitually glancing down the train car as if to make sure no one could hear your confessions. He looked back at you, “I mean, sure, I miss that - it was fun and thrilling and everything - but I don’t miss it more or less than what we have now. We have a family together now, sugar, isn’t that wonderful? A family and a house of our own and you’re my wife. It’s different, but it’s just as good in its own way.”

You looked down, picking aimlessly at the frills along the top of your dress.

Andrew gave your ankle a squeeze, concern in his voice, “Do you not feel the same?”

“I dunno.” you shrugged, “I am happy. I am so unbelievably happy that we have Richard and that I have you and we have that absolute dream of a house to call our own. That part is so wonderful and I am so thankful for you for working so hard to be able to provide us with all the niceties.”

“But?”

“But I…” you sighed, trying to find the right words.

Andrew kept his concerned gaze on you, reaching out for your hand to hold reassuringly and you linked your index finger with his over your thighs.

“I miss the passion.” you whispered, speaking to his hand on your lap, “I miss when making love wasn’t just boring old people missionary that lasts three seconds. It’s like we got married and had a kid and now we’re stupid celibate senior citizens or something. It used to be so good. It used to be incredible.”

Andrew had a gentle pout on his face when you finally glanced up at him to gauge his reaction. He rested his head against the train seat, the darkened nature whizzing past behind him through the large windows as he focused all on you, and his other hand caressed your thigh just under the hem of your dress, “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, “You don’t have to say that.”

“I miss it too.” Andrew confessed, “I just…I just feel old now. Almost like moving to this bigger place has completely exhausted me and I feel so guilty for not giving you what you need. Even when you ask for it, I’m so worried about letting you down that I just shut you out instead.”

“You can’t let me down.” you promised, leaning forward towards him to kiss the corner of his mouth before resting back in place in your seat, “I’m trying to be more understanding because I know work demands so much of you and I never want you to feel like it’s a chore.”

“Oh,” Andrew scoffed with a smile, “Sex with you is never a chore.”

You gave his hand a little tug, “Sometimes it feels like it’s done because it has to, not because we want to. That’s when it feels like a chore.”

“What can I do?” he asked genuinely.

You thought for a moment, shamelessly thinking about the prior three weeks with George and all the magical afternoons you shared, while also thinking back to life when you were newly dating and everything was so fresh. You smiled softly at it all before answering, “Be rougher with me.”

Andrew’s worried expression melted into amusement and he turned his head away from you for a second with a smile he tried to lick away before he was looking back at you and his warm brown eyes flicked between your lips and your eyes.

“Being soft is nice sometimes but…you know how I like it. Be really demanding and rough with me and toss me around.” you slid your foot back from his lap and gently rubbed it over his inner thigh and across the front of his slacks, “And surprise me with it…come up behind me in the kitchen or something. Remember that one time in the apartment?”

Andrew chuckled softly, “Yeah…you broke two plates. The set was a gift from my mum.”

“Yeah.” you laughed faintly, “Make me break more important shit. That’s what I want. That’s the passion I want.”

“Well,” his hand that wasn’t linked with yours trailed up your shin and back down in ghostly touches as your bare foot rested on his thigh, “we do have the house to ourselves tonight…and I did make a very important promise to you earlier, did I not?”

You sunk your teeth into your bottom lip, “Mhm.”

Andrew leaned towards you slightly, his hand sliding farther up your leg until it was disappearing under the skirt of your dress, “And you are so unbelievably beautiful tonight. Won’t be difficult to hold up my promise.”

You reached out and grabbed his tie and yanked him closer messily by it, forcing his lips on yours in an ungraceful kiss. His hand lifted from under your dress to the side of your neck to hold you close, melting effortlessly into your touch after your years together, sharing in the passion on the empty midnight train. The hints of his promise could be tasted on his lips and tongue and you tugged a little harder at his tie until he was almost completely leaning over you, his hand in yours pulling away to slide along the inside of your thigh and up under your dress, teasing you with ghostly touches that made you shiver.

The call for your stop through the speaker system interrupted you and you pushed your husband away with a giddy grin and a lick to your lips that were smudged with your lipstick. Just like George’s had earlier, Andrew’s mouth was also dotted in the faint pink hue and you turned your smile away from him at the realization that you had two men completely claimed by you, enamoured by you, and you selfishly were thrilled by the entire concept.

Andrew followed you off the train and then took your hand for the walk across the darkened and nearly empty parking lot to your family car. You walked right across the empty parking space where George had kissed you goodbye earlier and you swore it rose a shiver up your spine at the mere memory. Since then, you had been absolutely burning for touch and Andrew’s promise lingered in the front of your mind and stayed ever present by the way he nearly pulled you by the hand across the parking lot.

The drive home was silent apart from the radio and once Andrew pulled into your driveway by the light of the single porch lamp you had left on, your gaze shifted to the neighbour’s house. It was dark, all the lights off and everyone asleep at the very late hour it was. You silently wondered if Jennifer managed to get over herself long enough to put out.

“Coming?”

Andrew’s voice startled you out of your thoughts as he climbed out of the driver’s side and leaned back down into the car. You only smiled at him and gathered your purse to hurry after him along the front walk and up the stone steps and into your house, letting the door close behind you.

You had barely had a chance to put your clutch purse down on the console table inside the floral wallpapered foyer before Andrew was coming up behind you and wrapping an arm around your middle to pull you right back against his front. Smiling into the entryway of your darkened house, illuminated by only a single lamp left on in the living room, you set your hands over his arm around your waist and his other hand gently brushed your hair over your shoulder so his lips could have access to your neck. You tilted your head to the side slightly to give him room to kiss across your skin, trailing slow open mouthed kisses along your shoulder and right up under your ear.

“Oh my God.” you chuckled breathily, finally assured that he really was going to keep his promise.

Andrew’s soft moan against your neck had your mouth falling open slightly, eyelids fluttering as you basked in his warm kisses in all the right spots on your neck, and his hands caressed your hips and around your waist. He pulled you back on him a little harder and you habitually leaned forward just the very slightest amount so you could discreetly rub your ass back against the front of his slacks.

“That’s it.” he breathed against your ear, hands sliding up your body still tucked in the flattering bodice of the periwinkle dress until he reached your chest. He kept kissing your neck while his familiar hands traced the curve of your breasts over the frilly top of your strapless dress and soon he was pulling it down just enough to reveal your chest to your empty house.

You reached a hand back to slide around the back of his neck and into the ends of his dark hair, holding his face in your neck as he licked over your soft skin and kissed up under your ear while his hands groped your breasts possessively. The metal of his wedding ring grazed your warm skin and reminded you of your devotion to each other, almost allowing your neighbour to be completely forgotten from your mind. It was easy to not think of anything else when your handsome husband was moving slowly with you, grinding on each other until you were falling breathless, not unlike how you spent a lot of Friday nights in the clubs of Manhattan before responsibilities took over.

But then he was grabbing your arm and pulling you a few steps over to the open entryway into the living room and he situated you to face the wall, forcing your hands up against the drywall. You leaned your forearms against the flat surface so you could bend over a little more for him, wiggling your ass back against his crotch again. His hand came down in a precise smack against your ass over your dress and you sunk your teeth into your bottom lip in anticipation.

“This what you wanted?” he asked lowly.

In the dimly lit house, you were attuned to the sound of his belt being undone and your insides pulsed with desire at what that simple sound implied.

“Yeah.” you exhaled in response to his question.

Your dress was bunched up around your waist next and your husband tugged your underwear down until they rested around your ankles and he stepped up close behind you. His left hand then went around your neck and you hummed contently at his touch, letting him pull your head back enough for him to kiss along your jaw, while under the fabric of your dress you could feel him nudge the head of his cock against your dripping cunt.

When he pushed inside you steadily, your mouth fell open at the warm pressure it pushed across your hips and his hand tightened slightly around your throat. Andrew’s soft moan against your ear was igniting and you reached a hand back again to pull him in for a kiss by the back of his neck. Your tongues met first in off-centered kisses that moulded into your rehearsed dance of swollen greedy lips just as he started to thrust into you properly. Still in your heels, you spread your legs a little wider over the foyer floor, bending forward towards the wall to get him deeper.

“Fuck.” Andrew huffed stiffly, taking his hand from your throat for a grip on your shoulder while his other tried to push up the satin skirt of your dress out of the way. He gave you another light smack to your bum before grabbing a snug handful of your flesh as if to tug you back into his precise strokes, “Just want me to take what’s mine, huh?”

“Yeah.” you exhaled dreamily, lifting your forehead from the wall to turn towards the living room instead, letting your soft pleasant moans tumble from your lipstick-smudged lips.

“My God, you feel incredible.” he groaned, fucking into you a little harder, a little faster.

Once so distracted by him, your attention soon focused on the single lamp in the adjacent living room that cast a warm glow over the carpeted floor and floral couch. Your memory served you well as you thought of your first afternoon with George when he took you into that very same living room and changed your world. You could almost see it now, too, as you stared at the couch, watching you and your neighbour engage in such unspeakable acts while your husband was away at work. Now, said husband was very much present, nestled deep inside you where George had once been, his hands all over your body and his lips meeting your neck again in hot wet kisses.

“Andy…” you breathed.

He rested a hand against the wall you were leaning forward against, taking you over in strong thrusts that nearly had your legs struggling to stay steady underneath you. If it weren’t for the familiar scent of his fading cologne, you would have so easily fallen into the mindset that he was George and you knew you needed to get away from the living room before it ruined your night.

“Andrew…honey.” you tried again, grasping his wrist.

He slowed, heavy breaths falling against your cheek, “You okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” you pushed yourself away from the wall a little which had you backing stronger into him, pulling a small grunt from his chest, “I wanna go upstairs. Want to get out of these stuffy clothes and get my hands on you properly.”

Without a word, Andrew pulled your head back against his shoulder and his lips found yours in sloppy kisses, hands trailing your body before he was guiding you away from him, letting his dick slip out of you, “Okay. Go on then.”

You stepped out of your underwear around your ankles and left them on the floor as your priority was turning around long enough to grab him by his tie so you could pull him after you to the nearby staircase. The living room lamp was left on in your rush upstairs, the darkened second floor welcoming your hurried footsteps across the wood floor and into your shared bedroom that was blessed by the faint light of the street lamps outside your front windows.

You switched on your bedside table lamp and when you turned back to your husband, he was already kicking off his dress shoes and shoving down his pants to the floor. To save time, you helped him to loosen his tie and start on the buttons on his shirt and as you did, his hands slid around your body to unzip your dress. Neither of you had to share a word as your lust for each other took control, breathily heavily together in the comfort of your empty home under familiar touches of your spouse.

When you pushed Andrew’s shirt off his shoulders and it fell to the floor, you ordered him firmly with an excitable grin, “Get on the bed.”

He obeyed you easily and sat on the side of the bed so he could shuffle himself backwards to the middle and he situated himself back against the headboard, draped out naked for you. His hands went behind his head as he watched you leave your dress in a puddle on the floor and his habitual lick to his lips as you joined him on the bed, naked apart from your pearl necklace, had you smiling cheekily.

“How do you want me?” he asked.

As he tried to move from his spot, you pressed a hand against his chest to stop him, “Like this.”

You tossed a leg over his lap and then spit into your hand so you could reach down and stroke his dick before angling it properly against your cunt. The look on his face was erotic, staring wide-eyed at your hand on him with his bottom lip held snugly between his teeth. And when you sank down on him slowly, his jaw fell slack, face fluttering in pleasure, and he let out the sweetest moan you had heard from him in a long time.

“Oh my God.” he exhaled.

You adjusted your position a little with your feet anchored flat on the mattress on either side of him so you were squatting over his lap and when you started bouncing, his breath caught in his throat. At the pace you set, the erotic clap of your skin filled your bedroom and certainly reached out into the hallway through your open bedroom door; the joys of an empty house were not to be taken lightly. It had been honestly years since you had been on top of him like that and Andrew had been so focused on work and the boring side of life that he forgot how much he had once enjoyed it.

His big brown eyes stared at you like he didn’t want to look at anything else for the rest of his life, hands resting faintly against your thighs to let you do it yourself, gaping up at you in near awe. But the sounds he made were enough to make your heart race. You hadn’t heard him whimper like that for who knew how long and with the house being empty, he wasn’t worried about being too loud.

“Fuck, baby.” you choked out, anchoring yourself against his chest with both hands as your knees ached underneath every bounce of your hips.

“Yes.” he whimpered, his face screwed up in handsome pleasure, dark features shadowed by the warm light of the lamp, “Yes, yes, fuck-”

The broken moans and whimpers that tumbled from his swollen lips were addicting, wavering as if he were near tears, and they only grew louder and more insistent as you kept going, bouncing on his lap harder, faster, until his head was tossing back against the pillows. He moaned richly to the ceiling, eyes squeezing shut, struggling to catch his breath, and his hands tightened on your thighs until you swore he was pressing indentations from his nails into your flesh.

“Knew you missed it too.” you said cheekily down to him as you stopped your motions to grind right down on him.

Andrew reached a hand behind him to grab onto the pillow, still whining through your shared bedroom as you flicked your hips back and forth messily on his lap. He panted underneath you, staring up into your eyes with unmissable lust spread all over his face, and you just had to move back into those greedy bounces to watch how his expression withered under your control. He turned soft so easily when you took over, unlike George who always seemed to have the upper hand even when you didn’t expect it. The thought of George had your eyes squeezing shut to try and keep him out, striving to focus on your husband underneath you and the pretty sounds that he let out.

His fading accent always seemed to get thicker like that, laced into his words more strongly than normal, especially with how his voice whimpered, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, shit-”

“You’re so fucking gorgeous.” you groaned softly, “Wanna make you cum so bad.”

It was as if that line alone flipped a switch in him, reminding him who had been the one to initiate the night after all, reminding him that it was your desires that spurred the need for making the most of this empty house. Andrew sat up under you quickly and wrapped an arm around your back to keep you against him even as he flipped you both over, trapping you underneath him smoothly. Your gasp froze in your chest as he pinned your wrists down beside your head and started fucking your properly without wasting a second.

The air left your lungs for a moment in surprise and you could only gape up at him dumbly for a moment, even as he stared right back down at you with those beautiful brown eyes that you had fallen so deeply in love with. When your brain finally caught up, you heaved for breath in a gasp that was laced in so effortlessly with a moan, head tossing back against the bed with your hands bunching into fists from where he had you held down.

“That’s it.” Andrew praised from above you. “That’s more like it, huh?”

“Fuck!” you squeaked, “Holy shit, yeah, that’s what I want!”

“Yeah?” he chuckled breathily, keeping up that same pace and same angle just to watch how your face contorted in pleasure.

“Choke me.” you begged, “Please, please choke me.”

He let go of your wrists so he could set both hands around your throat, remembering just what you liked from those wild Friday nights in your early twenties. You grasped onto his biceps as he kept his arms straight, your nose scrunching up slightly as that warmth grew inside you so quickly and you linked your ankles together behind his back to keep him close. He was suddenly easily comparable to George with how quickly he was getting you there and, of course, that thought that passed your mind brought you right back to your neighbour’s house when he would rock your fucking world mid-week.

As your eyes shut tightly and your jaw clenched your mouth into a pulled tight line, your mind filled with images and memories of the man next door, almost taking Andrew’s heavy breaths and handsome moans as his. He was just doing everything right that you were getting dizzy, moaning uncontrollably through your bedroom even as the bed squeaked underneath you and the strength your husband was putting out for you. The world easily fell away, hovering you in a blissful world of isolated pleasure.

“Are you gonna cum for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

It was out of your mouth before you could think, running on pure instinct, initially unaware that you let the title only reserved for George slip past your lips when addressing your husband. Andrew groaned heartily and cluelessly from on top of you, his dark hair falling over his forehead and his hands tightening a little more around your throat.

“Fuck, that’s it.” he said through his teeth, “Cum for me.”

You were right there, so close, desperate to feel those addicting waves of pleasure tear through you. But you were stuck there, lingering right on the precipice, and you desperately reached down to rub at your clit while your husband fucked you into your bedsheets and your mind pictured George all around you. Your moans grew higher and more desperate, your body tensing.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” Andrew egged you on breathily from over top of you, still shoving into you hard, “Cum for me. Come on.”

George would have dirty talked you right into orgasm and you let the words he once spoke to you take up your mind, letting him talk you into it even from a distance, and in seconds you were falling into that quiver worthy orgasm. It shook right through you, arching your back off the bed and you cried out through the warm air of your bedroom as your fingers pressed into the flesh of Andrew’s bicep. It was a miracle you didn’t moan George’s name when you came from how much he took over your mind in order to get you there but you still slung your arm around your husband’s shoulders and pulled him down on top of you.

“Fuck.” he groaned into your neck, embracing you closely even as his thrusts turned faster and sloppier.

You just had to tighten your legs around his waist, ankles linked and locking him in, although you didn’t need to beg much at all because he made no move against your limited strength to pull out. He came inside you strongly, grinding into you in precise strokes that had you clinging onto him around his shoulders and your fingers tangled in his hair. You shared in the bliss together in a tangle of sweaty limbs and soft pleasurable sounds. Part of you was so caught up in the fantasy that you were almost startled when the man on top of you leaned back from your embrace just enough to look you in the eye and it was Andrew and not George. But you played it off with a smile and he kissed you a few times, giving you both a second to ease out of the waves of pleasure that had just taken you over.

“That was absolutely unreal.” Andrew breathed as he shifted off you and laid at your side, draping an arm across his forehead as you both stared up at the ceiling and tried to catch your breaths. He glanced over at you, “Was that okay?”

A smile perked at your lips, trying to ignore the guilt that bubbled within you over the fact that you still couldn’t get George off your mind, and you told your husband softly, “That was fucking amazing.”

He grinned and rolled over to kiss you once before he was getting up, “I’m so exhausted.”

“I need a shower.” you stated and got up after him, reaching behind your neck to unclasp your pearl necklace.

“This late?” he questioned as he retrieved a pair of underwear from his dresser drawer.

“Yeah? I have train germs and cum all over me.” you pinched his hip on the way past and dropped your necklace onto the surface of the dresser.

“Oh, hardly all over you.” Andrew called after you playfully as you disappeared into the ensuite bathroom, “I was very organized in my delivery, thank you very much.”

“Truly. I am most impressed.” you responded over the sound of the water once you turned the shower on.

You stepped into the shower and let the warm water caress your body, your eyes staring unblinking to the tile wall, wondering where you went wrong in life to find yourself in such a predicament. You had the best husband you could have possibly asked for, who was willing to listen to you and do whatever you wanted, and yet you still couldn’t be properly satisfied without thinking of another man. The water was turned hotter until it made your skin turn red, burning the reminder of your own filthy shortcomings from your conscious.

When you closed your eyes in the heat of the shower, the water washing away the day and the essence of your husband leaking down your inner thighs, all you could think about was George’s hands on your skin, his body pressed against yours in the shower stream, and the yearning to have something that wasn’t yours.

November 1984

Richard looked so small carrying his baseball bag over his shoulder, the body of the bag nearly dragging along the gravel parking lot as he trudged towards the baseball field all set for his big end-of-season tournament. Every time Andrew tried to offer to carry his bag for him, he was met with a very determined ‘no’ from the five-year-old until finally your husband gave up and you shared the responsibility of watching your son figure life out on his own. As always, you proudly carried the cooler full of snacks for the team, making the most out of the last game until next year.

The November air of New England was growing cooler now and the trees were starting to change into their brilliant autumn hues of orange and rich red. Although it had only been a few weeks since you had moved into your new house, nearing three months, the days seemed to speed by - and only more so when you had your neighbour to keep you company while your spouses were at work and your kids were at school.

Said neighbour greeted you with a smile when your little family approached the baseball diamond and he crouched down to offer Richard a fistbump, “All ready for today's big game, all star?”

“Yeah!” Richard grinned back at him, bumping his little hand against his.

“Yeah, we’re gonna kick some butt, aren’t we?”

“Gonna kick butt!” Richard agreed excitedly.

George stood back up and ruffled Richard’s dark hair, “That’s the spirit. Now go on and get warmed up with the team.”

Lugging his bag with him, Richard struggled to run over to the team bench where the other little boys were goofing around in the dirt. As always, George and Andrew shared polite handshakes in greeting and you shared pleasantries with your neighbour not unlike how anyone else would.

“By the way, you both are still coming to the barbeque after the game, right?” George asked, “Most of the team already RSVP’ed but I figured since you don’t have far to travel, that it would be a given to see you there.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t miss it.” Andrew answered.

“Did you want us to bring anything?” you asked politely.

“Just your beautiful selves.” George grinned at the both of you, his lingering glance at you in particular going unnoticed by your husband, “I already have everything ready to go.”

“Think it’s going to be a big celebration?” Andrew asked, “Our team has been pretty good recently.”

“Oh, yeah.” George set his hands on his hips with a playful scoff, “I have no doubt our boys are gonna win. But either way, it’s been an incredible season so there will be something to celebrate regardless of today’s outcome.”

You couldn’t help but stare at him in his blue jeans and navy blue and yellow team t-shirt, the matching branded baseball cap sitting on his head and his biceps causing the short sleeve shirt to pull tight around his arms. With a lick to your lips, you forced your eyes away from him and looked out towards the field where the opposing team was getting into their positions.

“We should let you coach.” you told him, “I will see you at break with the snacks.”

George sent you a smile and a friendly wink, “Looking forward to it.”

Then, you followed Andrew towards the metal bleachers that were packed with other parents and family members who had come to watch the final game of the season. Some of the other mothers whom you had grown somewhat close to over the season had saved you a spot and you and Andrew sat amongst friendly faces that seemed so common in your quaint neighbourhood. It was barely even mid-morning but you were already feeling tired and you watched the game set up in silence, half-listening to the other women chat together while Andrew busied himself with gossip with the other fathers.

Baseball games were always a great way for you to pass the time as you could often stare shamelessly at George while making it look like you were watching your son. Of course, Richard took up the majority of your thoughts but his handsome coach was a close second. That day was no different.

As anticipated, their team won the final game of the season - and thanks to Richard’s last home run that brought two boys back to home plate. You and Andrew literally jumped out of your seats cheering as your son ran around the bases with a huge grin across his face and even George was cheering loudly from the team bench. All the little boys ran into the centre of the field for a big group hug and then they were lined up to shake hands with the opposing team to show their good sportsmanship.

The first thing that Richard did when he ran off the field was make a beeline straight to you and you dropped to your knees to welcome him into your arms as he shouted, “Mommy! Daddy! Did you see me?!”

“Oh my gosh, we sure did! That was so amazing!” you gushed, holding him close.

“Talk about kicking butt, Rich, that was incredible!” Andrew added, couching down for a high five to which your son smacked his little palm against his.

“We are so proud of you!” you finished as you pulled away from your hug to hold Richard’s grinning face in your hands.

But then he was wiggling out of your grasp with a passive, “Thanks!”

He was of the age where his friends were growing in importance and you watched him rush back over to his team to celebrate in their youthful exuberance together. Andrew set his hand on your shoulder and, as you stood up, it slid down to your back so he could pull you close and press a kiss to your cheek.

“He’s getting so big, huh?” you smiled fondly.

“Sure is.” Andrew rested his head against yours.

You nibbled faintly on your bottom lip with an ache in your heart rising to the surface. Richard definitely was growing up and that just meant more and more of a reminder that your first and last baby was slipping through your fingers. You wanted another so badly but maybe it just wasn’t written in your cards.

The post-tournament barbecue was held in the backyard of the Russell’s house and all the families of the boys on the team gathered to celebrate the winning game and the successful season. Carrying little plastic trophies, the boys ran around the backyard together in their baseball uniforms and pretended to fight each other with the trophies as makeshift lightsabers. Meanwhile, the sisters of the team - some slightly older and some slightly younger - played on the swingset and around in the grass and tried to not get stomped on by their adrenaline swelled brothers.

The parents lingered on the spacious back patio and you and Andrew had taken to one of the outdoor couches with cold drinks in hand, chatting amongst the group although both of you tended to listen more than talk. Well, you weren't doing much listening either because across the patio stones was the barbecue where George was grilling up the hot dogs and hamburgers in only his jeans and a white tank top, still with that darned baseball cap sitting over his frazzled hair. With the glass bottle of your Coca-Cola resting against your pursed lips, you stared at him shamelessly, taking in the muscles of his bare arms and the shape of his body that, in private, you were very familiar with.

Jennifer walked out of the back door of their house with a plate of fruit and dip and on her way past, George stepped back from the barbeque to reach a hand out to stop her. She stopped expectantly but when he went in to kiss her cheek, she pulled a frown and stepped away from him, muttering something to him that you couldn’t make out from your distance. George’s eyes followed her to the outdoor table where she placed the spread and then he was staring right at you. Neither of you made any expression to each other or any indication of what was going on in your heads and he just turned back to the barbeque with a quick adjustment of his hat.

You turned to Andrew at your side, his arm still comfortably around your shoulders, and you set a hand on his chest to get his attention, “I’m gonna see if they need help with lunch.”

His sweet brown eyes followed you as you stood up, letting his hand linger in yours for a moment longer, “Alright, love.”

With your Coke bottle in hand, you walked across the patio stones to the smoking barbecue and you situated yourself beside George, “Need any help?”

He smiled softly at you, “Nah. I got this handled.”

You glanced around discreetly before speaking quietly, “Saw her dodge your kiss.”

George scoffed with a shake of his head, his attention focused on flipping the burger patties on the grill, “Yeah. Embarrassing, huh? How revolting I must be to have my own wife not want to kiss me.”

“Hardly revolting.” you countered. “In fact, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”

He glanced over at you and licked away his smile, “Brave of you to come over here and flirt with me with all these people around.”

You gaped in mock offence, “I am not flirting.”

“Oh really?”

“I am merely stating the obvious.”

“Which is?”

“That your arms right now look like you could really throw me around and show me a good time.”

“If you’re good, I can prove that to you later.”

“I’m always good.”

George’s gaze dropped to your lips for a split second before he was looking back to the barbeque with a small clear of his throat. You tried not to stare at him for too long but it was hard when he looked so good, somehow looking just as warm and delicious as ever even in the slight breeze of the autumn air. Looking back across the patio, Andrew felt your eyes on him and he looked at you in return, raising his hand up for a little wave. You smiled lovingly at him for a moment before focusing back on George’s grilling and the way his hands worked those tongs like a masterchef.

You pushed yourself away from the barbecue with a quiet, “I’m going to see if your prudish wife needs help inside.”

“Okay.” George laughed, physically restraining himself from smacking your ass on your way off.

Jennifer was inside the kitchen through the single back door, hurriedly arranging the burger toppings onto various plates for people to serve themselves from. At the sound of the door opening and you stepping inside, she glanced up for barely half a second before her attention was back to her work.

“Was wondering if you needed any help.” you asked.

“Yeah, can you take these out to the table?” she thrust a stack of paper plates and napkins at you without so much as a look, “Thanks so much.”

You pulled a tight lipped smile in reply and turned on your heel to leave just as quickly as you had entered. As requested by your gracious hostess, you arranged the plates and napkins on the large glass outdoor dining table and made sure there was going to be room for all the food. Some of the serving dishes were already out there as neighbours had brought some side dishes and you began unwrapping the saran wrap from the top of the bowls of potato salad and coleslaw.

Only moments later, George came up beside you with the platter of hamburgers and sausages and he excused himself politely to squeeze past you but still managed a faint graze of your waist on his way that sent shivers up your spine. Jennifer finished bringing out the rest of the condiments and toppings including buns and soon the crowded backyard was all piled around the outdoor table to eat away the excitement of the morning. The hostess was desperately trying to keep some semblance of order as the children rempaged the table and the adults were not much different. Andrew helped Richard to get his burger all dressed up and although you were sure George’s grilling skills were wonderful, you didn’t feel very hungry. For once, it wasn’t due to guilt.

Standing out the outskirts of the distracted party, you lingered with an empty plate in your hand. George suddenly appearing beside you startled you slightly but his hand on your back eased you quickly.

“Not eating?” he asked.

“Not really hungry.” you answered without tearing your eyes away from your husband and son.

George grabbed your wrist and leaned in to whisper, “Come with me.”

Completely trusting of him, you let him pull you into the house through the back door and you discarded your unused plate onto the kitchen island as you swept right past it. You didn’t even have time to take off your shoes as he led you down the hallway and right around to the carpeted stairs, nearly taking them two at a time. This wasn’t new and you could tell exactly what his obvious insistence was hinting towards but it had always ever been when your spouses were far away in the city. This was risky.

“George.” you whispered sharply as he rounded the corner at the top of the stairs and pulled you down the second floor hallway.

He helped himself to one of the doors near the end of the hall, turning the handle and walking right into his bedroom. You had never stepped foot in that room before and part of you didn’t even want to walk over the threshold but he was persistent and he yanked you in after him until you were stumbling against his chest. The wallpapered master bedroom could barely be offered a second of your attention as George swallowed your lips up with his, kissing you like he hadn’t felt real human touch in years. His skin was beautifully warm and he still smelt like the charcoal from the barbeque and the sweat from the baseball game, the complete essence of masculine energy that made you weak.

“George,” you mumbled against his lips, raising your hands to cradle his face, “we can’t do this.”

He didn’t seem to care as he kicked off his sneakers and knocked his hat off his head, letting it fall to the carpeted floor with a dull thud. Despite your protesting words, you were still the one who yanked him in by the back of his neck for more greedy kisses, shoving your tongue against his until he was moaning into your mouth and you were kicking off your shoes yourself.

“We can’t do this.” you repeated between kisses as his hands pulled your shirt over your head and then went right to the button on your jeans as his lips trailed messy kisses down your neck. Your eyes caught on the window across the room, the sheer curtains still allowing the rustling trees of the backyard to be visible and if you focused, you could hear the muffled chatter of the party down below on the patio, laced in with music from the radio. You clung onto him tightly, using the last ounce of ethics in you, “Our families are just out that window in the backyard-”

But he shut you up with another kiss, his large hand tangling in the back of your hair to pull your lips on his so strongly that you swore your knees almost went weak. Your arms tossed around his shoulders as he shoved your jeans down your thighs and you blindly shimmied them off and kicked them away. George lifted you right off the ground and carried you over to his bed only a few short steps away and he dropped you down on the floral duvet and soft mattress.

You scooted farther to the middle, not bothering to process the fact that this was the bed he shared with his wife every night because he was standing in front of you and peeling off his tank top and unbuckling his pants. Your teeth captured your bottom lip as he dropped them to the ground, denim pooling around his ankles, leaving him entirely bare in front of you for the uncountable time since you moved into that quaint house next door.

“Gotta be quick.” George joined you on the bed, glancing back over to the door to make sure he had locked it before he was tapping your thigh to get you to move. You shifted out of the way and he laid himself down on the bed properly before he was grabbing your leg to guide you back over to him. You weren’t sure exactly what he wanted you to do but then he was situating your body to straddle his face and your eyes went wide. This was new. As if reading your mind, he offered an explanation while his warm hands rubbed up your thighs to your hips, “I’m gonna go fucking crazy if I wait any longer to eat your pussy.”

Before you could reply, he was wrapping his hands around your thighs and pulling you down onto his mouth, letting you settle down right on his tongue. Your mouth fell open through a shaky gasp at his first touch and your hands bunched into fists in the air, unsure where to even touch. George moaned up against you as he licked his way into your body, his eyes fluttering open to gauge your reaction. Your stiffness had him chuckling and he turned his head to kiss your thigh.

“Put your hands in my hair.” he instructed, “Or on the headboard. Whatever you want.”

You dropped your hands down to rake through his tangled hair that was slightly dotted with sweat from the long morning in the autumn sun and his hands on your thighs slid up your hips to start to rock you on his mouth. You soon caught on and you kept up those movements yourself, grinding on his mouth and tongue with your hands snug in his hair.

“Oh my God.” you exhaled, eyelids fluttering.

“Have you never ridden someone’s face before?” George mumbled up against you and when you shook your head, he gave your bum a little smack with a casual, “Your husband is missing out.”

“Shut up.” you tugged at his hair to get his mouth back on you, nustling yourself down on his tongue a bit harder.

George chuckled lowly as he groped your ass and lapped at your pussy with his warm wet tongue, working with the movements of your hips. It certainly wasn’t the first time you had his mouth between your legs but being able to set the pace yourself was unreal and you gaped at the wall in front of you and you ground yourself on his mouth harder, faster, fingers tugging at his hair. He only encouraged you on with pleasurable moans against your pussy, trying to keep up with your motions until you were just smearing your liquids all over his face.

His hot breath against your skin was shiver-worthy and his hands only ignited your sense ten-fold as he reached up to grope your breasts and pinch your nipples. You pulled one hand out of his hair to set on his chest behind you for added stability, trying to smother your sounds through a bitten lip just in case someone was close enough to hear. But the house was perfectly empty with everyone distracted in the backyard, meaning only George was privy to the sounds of pure erotic pleasure that tumbled from your lips.

Your clit was aching against his tongue and he tended to it generously, eyebrows furrowing with pleasure as he had you falling into bliss on top of him. His name coming from your mouth was the sweetest sound like that’s where it was meant to be and soon it came over and over again like a chant, gradually getting higher and needier. Your hand in his hair tugged harder as your hips moved faster on his mouth as if you were just completely using him, feeling erotically prioritized like never before. You were dizzy.

No, really, you were actually dizzy, and once you clued into the way the room spun around you a little, you slowed to a stop. Your legs were quivering on either side of his head and George - not wanting to waste time - took that opportunity to switch positions and roll you over onto your back with him in his rightful place on top of you.

“You okay?” he chuckled softly, noticing your wide blinking eyes.

“Yeah. Got a little dizzy there for a second.” you confessed, sliding your hands up his biceps.

“Wanna stop?” he asked.

“No.” you answered almost too quickly. “I’m fine.”

With the muffled sounds of the guests and the music outside, George angled the tip of his hard cock against your messy pussy, dragging it between your slick folds a few times before plunging it steadily inside you all the way. Your head dropped back against the pillow that smelt like him, offering him the sweetest groan to the ceiling.

“That’s it.” George exhaled, shifting slightly to grab your legs and he pushed them back towards your chest. With his thumbs hooked in the backs of your knees, he had you nearly folded in half, giving him a perfect unobstructed view he started to thrust into you.

Your hands grasped the pillow on either side of your head as he fucked the sweetest sounds from your chest. Every single time he always knew just how to treat you and it never got old; it only ever made you crave him stronger, addicted to the way he could fuck you like no one else could. On his knees for you, his thrusts were slow but hard, shoving into you roughly each time until the headboard was almost hitting the wall in time with the rhythm.

“How’s that?” he asked you, gaze unwavering from yours.

“Faster.” you begged, “Faster, please, sir.”

“Yeah? Want me to make you cum and send you back to your husband with my cum dripping down your thighs?”

“Yes, sir.” you nodded, voice breaking slightly as he started to fuck you faster. Your mouth dropped open and your eyes nearly rolled back, letting out a jagged moan to the ceiling with your knuckles turning white from how you gripped the pillow case.

“Yeah, you’re my dirty fucking slut, aren’t you?” he removed his left hand from your leg to wrap his fingers around your throat, pinning you down snugly to his bed, ordering, “Hold your legs open for me…let me in as deep as I can go.”

You let go of the pillow to grab a hold of your legs, pulling them towards your chest by the backs of your knees. Staring up into his eyes, it felt like heaven. The way he treated your body felt like pure erotic heaven. Nothing had ever felt so good before him and you swore nothing would ever feel that good after him.

“Good girl.” George praised through his teeth, making a beautiful harmony with the wet squelch of your cunt taking his aggressive thrusts and the bed squeaking underneath you. “Good fucking girl…I want you to cum for me.”

“Yes, sir.” you whimpered, watching closely as he lifted his right hand to slip his thumb in his mouth before dropping it down to rub at your clit. Your mouth fell open with a whiney gasp, eyes struggling to stay open as the intensity tore through your body. All you could manage out was a faint chant of “yes, yes, yes” as you felt the warmth building inside you.

George’s handsome groans were a struggle to hold back too and you could see the way his jaw clenched behind the bite to his bottom lip as he tried to hold back. But you and him were a red-hot mix, unbelievably passionate, like you were two halves of a whole, and it was impossible to slow down together.

So you came together, like perfect harmony, clinging onto each other with limbs tangled on top of bed sheets, sweaty bodies meshing as one, and you never wanted to let him go. It nearly brought a tear to your eye as you shuttered in his arms and came around him, squeezing him so tightly that he let out the richest moans against your neck as he curled into you. With a few more strong thrusts from your handsome neighbour, you were mouthing a blissful swear word to the ceiling as you felt him coming deep inside you like he always did.

As if hit by a sudden streak of clarity, your momentary pleasure dropped off into shocking realization. Playing it off, you still offered George a smile and a kiss as he shifted off of you and right away he was reaching for his underwear. You had a party to return to, after all.

So you forced yourself to your feet as well and got dressed alongside him, happily accepting his kisses before he walked you to the door. The moment you reached the end of the hall together and the top of the stairs - George tucking his hat back on his head - Jennifer turned the corner at the bottom of the stairs.

“There you are.” she said, “Where were you?”

You kept walking down the stairs as casually as you could, trying not to let the quiver of your legs show too much. George answered for you, “She wasn’t feeling well so I showed her the bathroom and got her some ibuprofen.”

“Just needed a second.” you said with a tight smile to his wife, “Nothing serious.”

She nodded faintly, leaning on the handrail as you drifted past her and she turned her attention to George, “I need help cleaning up.”

“Yeah, of course.”

The three of you emerged from the house together and you habitually smoothed down your hair as you approached Andrew and a few of the other parents. Your husband smiled at you warmly and slid his arm around your waist with a kiss to your cheek, “There you are. Where’d you run off to?”

“Just the bathroom.” you said softly, unable to even feign a smile.

Andrew stared at you for a moment, assessing your melancholy expression, and he rubbed your back and leaned in closer to check in, “You okay?”

You pulled a tiny close-lipped smile in his direction and nodded, “Feeling a little funny but I’m okay.”

“Did you want to go home?”

“No, no.” you waved him off, “I’m fine.”

Andrew turned back to the conversation with a few of the other parents, his arm still around you comfortingly, and his hand slid into the back pocket of your jeans. The move would have usually made you blush pink but instead you were just hoping he couldn’t feel how your legs quivered underneath you. You crossed your arms across your chest and let your mind stew, piecing together all the ways you hadn’t felt yourself that last week, all leading up to today.

As if on cue, you felt a thick drop of cum slip out of you and into your underwear, unbeknownst to everyone around you including your husband. You closed your eyes for a second and took a deep breath and said a silent prayer in hopes that you weren’t pregnant.

First thing the next morning, you took the car to the grocery store to pick up a few things to prepare for the week ahead. You were still feeling off even after your good night’s sleep and although you pinned it to an annual fall cold, you found yourself in the pharmacy aisle in front of the home pregnancy tests. Maybe it was because you had been through it once before that subconsciously you knew what your symptoms could have been hinting towards, but outwardly, you wanted to avoid it at all costs. In fact, you almost went home without one because if it happened to come back positive, you swore your life would be entirely ruined. But you bought one and hid it in the bottom of one of the brown paper bags so when you carried them into the house, it wasn’t easily noticeable to your husband or your son.

The moment you walked in the door, Richard was rushing over to greet you, already dressed for the day undoubtedly by his father since he was still in pyjamas when you had left. Your little boy trailed after you into the kitchen where you set the paper bags on the counter and he pitched to you sweetly, “Mommy, can I go ask if James can play?”

“Of course, baby.” you reached down to pet his hair, “Did you already ask Daddy?”

Andrew appeared in the doorway to the kitchen too in his usual running gear, giving your son a playful little nudge to the back of his head, “I already said yes, silly goose. Why do you have to ask Mommy again?”

“I dunno.” Richard giggled and slid around your legs to hide from his father.

“Because you’re a Mommy’s boy, aren’t you?” you said with a smile, glancing down behind you to your son who had himself wrapped around your legs.

Richard only smiled bashfully against your thigh, his cheeky brown eyes sparkling up at his father who crossed his arms over his chest dramatically.

“I get it.” Andrew sighed heavily. “No one loves dad.”

Richard giggled from behind you and slithered between your legs to cheer up his father with a hug of his own and a promised, “I love you, Daddy.”

“Oh, thank you.” Andrew gushed and crouched down to swallow his laughing and squirming son into his arms properly, showering him in kisses all over his face, “I love you too.”

“Ew!” Richard squealed and wiggled away from him. “No kisses!”

“Go play.” Andrew gave his bum a little pat to send him off down the hallway, “Get outta here.”

The sound of Richard’s feet down the hallway brought a fond smile to your face as you turned your attention to the filled grocery bags without making a move to unpack them. Andrew stood back up and tugged at the corner of one of them, trying to peek in.

“What’d you get?”

You grabbed them away from him a bit harder than anticipated, “Nothing exciting.”

His eyebrows furrowed briefly despite the amused smile on his face, “Okay.”

“You going on a run?” you asked casually.

Andrew looked down at his snug white t-shirt and red jogging shorts, answering sarcastically, “Nah, I just know how much you love my tiny shorts so I thought I’d wear them around the house some more.”

“Shut up.” you laughed lightly.

Andrew set his hand on your back as he leaned in to kiss your cheek, “I’ll be back in an hour or so. Love you.”

“Okay. Love you.” you kissed him goodbye and watched him leave.

When the front door was shut and both your husband and son were gone, you hurried to throw any refrigerated items into the fridge before grabbing the pregnancy test box from the bottom of one of the grocery bags and you hightailed it upstairs. You closed your bedroom door and closed your ensuite door just to be safe before opening the box and removing the contents onto your bathroom counter.

It looked not much unlike one of Richard’s play chemistry sets as you carefully set up the two vials in the provided stand and filled them both with a few drops of liquid from the small eyedropper. Then, you sat yourself on the toilet with the clear plastic cup held between your legs, silently wishing for a miracle. You were hoping it would be negative and Andrew would never have to know and it could all be brushed under the rug and forgotten about. Yes, you wanted more kids more than anything but life had made it a bit more complicated.

When you were finished and flushed, you used the second eyedropper to add urine to both vials before capping them to let rest and you discarded the garbage and washed your hands. There was a forty-five minute wait on the at home tests - the fastest of its kind so far, the advancement of technology was truly incredible - but that still felt like an eternity to you. So you left the tests on the small plastic stand on your bathroom counter and returned downstairs to finish putting away the groceries.

As a distraction, you selected an album from your library and turned on your record player in the living room, turning up the volume a little more to keep your mind away from the life-changing decision that was brewing in your upstairs bathroom. You tended to the dusting of the main floor and you put away some of the clutter that mostly consisted of Richard’s toys, letting the music take you away. Well, so much so that your mind was completely invested in the melody rather than the weight that lingered on your shoulders.

Andrew returned from his run an hour later as promised and he greeted you in the kitchen where you were making lunch. You didn’t acknowledge him much as the song that was playing had you invested in the rhythm and you swayed softly around the kitchen, barely processing him telling you that he was going to get a shower before lunch. It wasn’t until he was halfway up the stairs that it clued into your mind and you dropped the knife onto the counter with a clatter.

“Wait! Andy!” you called loudly after him to try and top the music. You hurried down the hallway and yanked the needle off your record to send screeching silence through the house before you took the stairs two at a time, calling his name again desperately as you turned into your bedroom, “Andy, honey.”

But he was already in the ensuite bathroom and that was right where you found him, standing at the counter with the two vials in hand. He turned to you, revealing the creamy white toned liquid inside - the white colour indicating a positive result. You swallowed back the bile in your throat for reasons he need not know about.

“What is this?” he asked firmly, his furrowed expression unreadable.

“I-” you swallowed, holding yourself up on the doorway, “I didn’t want you to see that yet.”

“You’re pregnant?” his eyebrows raised.

You didn’t quite know what to say. Andrew turned back to the counter and set the vials back on the stand before bending over to the trash bin to retrieve the empty box. You knew perfectly well what the colour meant but you let him double check and when he did, the box was tossed back into the bin and he set his hands on his hips with an exasperated sigh.

“Fuck.” he swore stiffly, raking a hand through his hair and he rubbed his fingers over the back of his neck.

Your words had abandoned you, not having prepared to find out this way - right in front of him. You could see him through the reflection of the mirror, staring at how his face was screwed up in thought as if he were going through every phase of grief in his mind, trying to figure out what to say or do next.

Finally, he inhaled deeply and said, “I thought we agreed that we were going to stop at one.”

“Well, I didn’t do it on purpose.” you protested strongly.

Andrew turned back around to you, “I have been nothing but completely accommodating to what you need…putting my own shit to the side for you because I love you. But I specifically said…”

He faded out, pressing his fingertips to his temples in frustration.

“What are you talking about?” you couldn’t help the edge that came to your voice.

“These last few weeks, after you asked me for another kid and I said no, you have been on some mission to ‘rekindle our passion’ and have just been pulling me to bed every chance you get.” he laughed humorlessly, “Now I see why.”

“What the fuck?” you frowned, “That’s the biggest amount of bullshit I have ever heard come out of your mouth.”

“I don’t want another kid!” Andrew said sternly. “I barely wanted the first one! But we made it work because you were happy and it was what you wanted and I gave up my apartment and my goals and my life for this family because it was important to you. You who I had only known a few months but I swore was the perfect girl for me. I love you so much but now it’s just a blatantly obvious infinite loop of you taking, taking, taking and me just giving it all up for you.”

Andrew pushed past you into the bedroom and your head turned after him with mouth agape. You were entirely stunned speechless. In his white t-shirt and short red shorts, it was almost humorous how this conversation was happening as he paced the room.

He turned to you again, tossing a hand in the air, “When do I get what I want? Huh? When do you do something for me?”

“When do I do something for you?” you snapped back, “Are you serious? I do literally everything for you! I raise your kid, I cook your meals, I do absolutely everything around the house so you don’t have to lift a finger!”

“I mean in life! With our goals! Why do we always have to do what you want? This house was what you wanted, getting married was what you wanted, having a bunch of kids is what you wanted. I didn’t want this! I didn’t want this stupid job that I am working my ass off day in and day out to get enough money to get by.”

“Oh, Andrew, stop it.” you scoffed, “What was your other choice, huh? A musician? An actor? A fucking Formula 1 driver? You had no sufficient, sustainable, real plans before me. You were a loose cannon before me. You were going to be broke and starving until someone got you straightened out and that just happened to be me. Life isn’t fantasies. You’re not going to be some top of the charts musician on MTV or World-Fucking-Champion and you just have to get over it.”

Andrew shook his head angrily and crossed his arms over his chest with a huff, turning away from you, “Can’t bloody believe this shit.”

“You’re twenty-six-years-old, Andrew! You’re a grown man with a wife and a home and a kid and a nice-paying stable job. So many people would kill to be in your position.”

He turned back around to you quickly, jabbing his finger against his chest, his voice loud and firm, “But it’s not what I want! I’m sick of working my ass off every single day just to get by at a job I can’t stand! I put my blood, sweat, and tears into providing for this family and all I ask is a little compassion and a little give.”

You threw out your hands, shouting back at him, “What do you want from me?”

“How do you expect me to provide for a second kid when we can barely survive with the first?” Andrew took an angry step towards you, “I wish you just listened to me when I told you no-”

“You sound ridiculous! I didn’t knock myself up behind your back.” you snapped. Your words tasted bitter on your tongue with the silent knowledge that you truly may have done just that. You didn’t want to throw gas on the fire and make it a million times worse. Instead, you could only push away your internal battles and pray to God that the child growing inside you had the same dark features that were now staring angrily into your face.

“Do you want me to tell you that I’m happy?” Andrew retorted. “Do you want me to lie to your face and tell you that I’m overjoyed and that we’re one big cheery happy fucking family?”

“Talk about compassion.” you spat, “A little reassurance wouldn’t kill you.”

“I can’t work any harder than I do.” Andrew reiterated, pressing his palms together, “One step further and my back will break. I will break.”

“I just want a family with you!” you protested loudly, tears brimming in your eyes, “I’m sorry that I love you and that I want children with you! I’m sorry that I’m a shitty wife for…for whatever I did that you’re currently yelling at me over!”

“Well I’m sorry that my best isn’t ever good enough for you!” Andrew countered even louder.

You couldn’t hold back the small frustrated sob that slipped past your lips.

“Shit.” he huffed and turned away from you, taking a few steps across the room with his hands raking through his hair.

The sudden silence lingered tense between you and you choked on it as you took a jagged inhale through your tears. Andrew stood a few paces away from you, still in his ridiculous jogging outfit, his fingers clutching his dark hair as if he were about to rip it right out of his head. You habitually looked over to one of the side windows of your bedroom that stared directly towards the neighbour’s house and in that moment you could have given anything to just be with George instead, wanting to just fall into his arms.

Andrew sniffled and turned around to you, barely able to even look at you as he said flatly, “I’m just gonna go for a walk.”

“I made lunch.” you called after him as he walked right out of your room.

“I’m not hungry.” he replied from the stairs.

You listened to his every footfall on the stairs and then the sound of the front door opening and then shutting loudly. The house fell silent. Perfectly, eerily silent. You swore the sound of your breathing was echoing in your ears.

Out of pure anger and frustration and self-hatred, you stormed back into the ensuite bathroom, bursting in so strongly that the door flung open hard enough to hit the wall. You caught yourself against the counter where the small plastic standing housing the two vials stood, both tests containing the murky white liquid of your positive result. Swearing loudly at yourself, you dumped the vials down the sink and threw everything in the trash bin as tears blurred your vision.

Now that you were alone, you had the opportunity to let yourself process what this positive meant but the fight with your husband that was fresh on your mind just caused you to crumple to the ground with the heels of your palms pressed to your eyes. You swore to yourself over and over until your voice was breaking and the tears that leaked down your cheeks overflowed from your palms and onto the tile floor.

But, as always, you had to pull yourself together. Lunch was growing warm down in the kitchen and you had to go get your son from his playdate so he could eat. You wiped your eyes in the bathroom mirror and straightened out your hair the best you could before returning downstairs. Stalling, you switched off your record player and set Andrew’s plate in the fridge just in case he wanted it later, before you finally allowed yourself to step outside.

The crisp fall air filled your lungs and you took a deep refreshing breath as you walked down your front porch steps and began the short walk across your lawn to the neighbour’s house. Life felt like a hazy dream as you ascended their porch and knocked on the front door, barely processing anything that had happened that morning. Maybe dissociating was the right thing to do because subconsciously you knew that if you didn’t, the moment George opened the door and you saw him, you would have completely broken down. Instead, you greeted him with a tight lipped smile.

“Just here to grab Richard for lunch.” you said flatly, the roughness to your voice from your crying obvious to everyone but you.

George hesitated for a moment, staring at you, before turning into the house, “Ritchie, your mom’s here!”

Your little boy’s voice called back from upstairs, “Coming!”

George looked back at you, asking quietly, “You okay?”

You sniffled and nodded faintly, turning your head away from him to keep your composure.

“Hey,” he reached out a hand to touch your wrist, “what’s going on?”

You stepped away from him, out of his reach, “I’m fine, George.”

Richard bounded down the stairs and burst right out the front door, throwing himself around your legs, “Mommy! Can we eat fast? James and I were in the middle of a race.”

You put on the best smile you could offer the light of your life as you took his precious face in your hands, “Of course, my love.”

Richard took your hand and nearly pulled you down the stairs of the Russell’s front porch and George stepped out after you to stand on the top step. He watched while your son led the way home and you didn’t offer your concerned neighbour a second glance.

You ate lunch with your son at the kitchen table, expertly dodging his questions about his father’s whereabouts. He scarfed down his sandwich and chips quite quickly - in a rush to get back to his friend and their play - but you picked haphazardly at yours, your already limited appetite only dwindled more so since your hostile conversation with your husband only moments before. You couldn’t imagine anyone not wanting another little angel just like Richard and you admired him adoringly as he squeezed the life out of his juice box until the straw made a loud slurping noise.

“Done!” the five-year-old announced, turning to you with that sweet smile that had his pretty brown eyes scrunching closed at the corners, “May I be excused, Mommy?”

You reached over to pet his face, wanting to engulf yourself in your son completely, wanting your entire life to revolve around him and nothing else, “Yes, my love. Go and play.”

He hopped off his chair and threw his arms around you for a fleeting hug before he was rushing back down the hallway and out the front door. You stood from the table and collected your dishes to bring to the sink, tossing out your barely touched sandwich on the way alongside Richard’s empty juice box. It didn’t feel real that Richard was going to have a sibling in a few short months - if you thought about it too much and the weight that it carried on your conscious, it made you absolutely nauseous.

You stood at the sink with your hand pressed to your mouth, trying to take deep breaths, and trying not to think about how a blue-eyed baby with light features would be the worst thing to happen to you in your life. What would that mean for you? For Andrew? For George and his marriage? You had to take this secret with you to the grave. You had to cut things off with George and never speak of it ever again.

And then your hands flew to the side of the sink to catch yourself as you vomited.

About an hour later, you were cuddled up on the couch under the family room blanket, flicking through the TV channels for something of even the slightest interest to you. But with your mind so busy, nothing seemed distracting enough. Your eyes drifted to the clock on the kitchen wall that placed you in the later half of the afternoon and you sighed. That’s when the front door opened.

After six years of marriage, you could recognize Andrew’s footsteps without even needing to look and you kept your eyes on the TV screen playing some talk show through the otherwise silent house. Your attention was attuned, instead, to the sound of the front door closing and his keys on the table and his every footstep into the family room. He lingered in the archway for a moment and you didn’t dare look at him. Your curled up figure and the tissues that scattered the coffee table pitched your sorrow well enough.

“I’m back.” he said flatly.

You sniffled before answering with a faint shrug, “Okay.”

Andrew sighed and took a few more steps into the room, “Can we talk, sugar?”

“Not if you’re just gonna yell at me again.” you mumbled.

“I didn’t…” he exhaled deeply and fell to a stop at the opposite end of the couch from you, “I didn’t mean to freak out on you like that.”

You sniffled again. You didn’t look up.

“I was just really taken by surprise. I didn’t expect that and I just…had a bit of an existential crisis, I’m afraid, and might have taken it out on you which was very wrong of me.”

You grabbed the remote from beside you on the couch and turned off the TV to give the conversation the attention it deserved although you still didn’t want to look at him. Maybe it was the anger or the guilt, you weren’t quite sure. Andrew took your move as an invitation to sit down and he did, keeping a respectful distance between you.

“I’m really sorry I got so upset. I was a real prick to you. You didn’t deserve that.”

Picking at the blanket that was draped over you, you muttered, “Thank you.”

“Maybe this all isn’t what I had dreamt up for my life initially but it doesn’t mean it’s bad.” he continued, “In fact, it’s really good. It’s so good that sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve it.”

You finally looked over at him, “You deserve the world.”

He met your gaze and offered you a small half smile, “So do you.”

There was a pause where you just stared at each other from opposite ends of the couch for a moment.

“Do you really not want another baby?” you asked.

Andrew sighed and looked at the carpet, “It’s not that I don’t, it’s that I don’t want to never see you again. I already feel so distant with how much I have to work and to afford another kid? Even the thought of what that would entail exhausts me.”

“Maybe you gotta ask for a raise.” you said lightly.

“Yeah,” he chuckled faintly, “I might have to.”

You turned your attention back to picking at the threads of the blanket.

Andrew looked over at you again, “I never even asked: How are you feeling about it?”

Tired? Stressed? Terrified? Exhausted? Guilty? Depressed? Nauseous?

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Kinda bad after our blow-up this morning.”

Andrew sighed and scooted closer to you, holding out his arm and you instinctively met him halfway on the couch to cuddle into his side. He pressed a kiss to your head as you rested against his shoulder and he held you close.

“Don’t let your crap husband get in your head.” he teased.

You smiled faintly and reached a hand out of your blanket to tap his thigh under the short fabric of his red jogging shorts, “You in those ridiculous shorts.”

“Hey,” he swatted your hand away, “you love these shorts on me.”

He was still faintly sweaty from his earlier jog and then from walking the neighbourhood for who knew how long but you still gladly shifted on the couch with him to drape yourselves out together, cuddled up and forgiving in each other’s arms. With your head on his chest, you closed your eyes to listen to his heartbeat and your arm around his middle squeezed him closer, wanting to absorb yourself into his familiarity and go back to when life was simpler. Andrew’s fingers trailed over your shoulder and into the roots of your hair, easily calming you down and taking the edge off of your stresses, his lips dusting a few soft kisses to your head.

He then shifted beside you to face you a little more and he pushed the blanket farther down so he could lift up the bottom of your shirt and his fingers ghosted across your abdomen. It still looked the same as it always had but the secrets it housed inside were almost unspeakable. With your heads resting together comfortably, you and your husband stared down your body to the spot which warmly housed what you prayed was your baby grown in wedlock.

“I love you.” Andrew promised into the air. “And this baby was made from that love and there is nothing more beautiful than that.”

You pulled a tight smile, barely whispering an audible “I love you” in return.

The following week went by in a haze. The news of your pregnancy stayed between you and Andrew and although your husband seemed to be warming up nicely to the idea of having a second child, you were in a state of limbo. When Andrew was at work and Richard was at school, you didn’t dare leave your house in fear of running into George. In fact, you were even having Richard wait outside on your front porch until he saw George and James heading to the bus stop so he could go with them instead of you. In reality, it all sounded so pathetic.

But you knew that one look at him and you would crumble and if you were set in your ways to break things off with him for the sake of your family, you needed to be strong. There were certainly better ways to go about it but it was a dire circumstance and your brain was foggy and the early months of pregnancy were really starting to hit hard with the symptoms. Karma, you were sure. You had dug yourself a hole and you were being forced to lie in it.

When Andrew returned home on Friday night just in time for dinner, as usual, you were already exhausted from a long day of doing not much of anything. Fatigue was real and you had spent it all on making dinner, therefore not offering much conversation over the meal. Besides, your mind was going a mile a minute anyway - way too much going on to really formulate a coherent thought.

With Richard watching TV and playing in the family room after dinner, Andrew helped you to clear the table and start on the dishes. You washed them at the sink and he took drying duty, making sure to put everything away where it went around the kitchen.

“I ran into Jennifer on the train tonight.”

You didn’t acknowledge his statement at first, silently waiting for him to keep talking as you held out one of the wet plates to him.

“Jennifer Russell. Our neighbour?” Andrew continued and took the plate from you to dry it off.

“Yes, I know who you meant.” you said softly.

“Oh. Well, she and I got to chatting and we were thinking about having another double date night soon. Maybe just something simple like a dinner? I offered that we could host.”

You laughed breathily towards the sink, “I’m hardly up to cooking a whole meal for two families right now. I’m lucky if I go an hour without puking.”

“That’s okay. We can order something in.” Andrew offered, “It’d be a nice treat.”

You debated quietly for a moment as you scrubbed the plate in your hand. In reality, your hesitation wasn’t necessarily about the need for dinner prep as it was more towards the anxiety of seeing Jennifer’s husband face to face. Then, you asked, “When?”

“Tomorrow?”

The part of you that really missed George tugged at your hormonal heartstrings and you debated for one more second before finally, “Okay.”

And tomorrow came before you knew it.

And George then was standing in your foyer talking to your husband with a clueless smile on his face, his hand resting on his wife’s back.

And you were wondering why on earth you thought this was a good idea.

“Come on in.” Andrew hung up your guests’ jackets in the front closet, “Make yourself at home.”

While the children helped themselves to the family room where Richard’s plentiful toys were littered across the carpet, you four grownups took to the living room to chat while you waited for dinner to arrive. Andrew chose a record from your abundant collection and as he did so, the rest of you took your seats.

On your way across the room, George’s hand ghosted over your back and he offered a breathy, “Hey.”

You barely smiled in return, “Hi.”

He and his wife took to the chairs and you and Andrew shared the modest floral sofa. Conversation progressed easily although your mind was distracted by the memories you held with your neighbour on that very couch. It seemed George was thinking the same thing as he stared at the upholstery and then met your gaze, letting a faint smirk prick at the corner of his mouth. You looked to your lap, unresponsive. George’s smile faltered.

But you pitched into conversation where possible to appear as normal as you could to your unsuspecting spouses. You were good at playing the part of devoted wife - as you had learned over the prior few weeks - and your hand rested on Andrew’s thigh innocently as you talked amongst yourselves and stayed tucked under his loving arm. George seemed to be analysing your every move with his eyes not often straying from you. You tried not to give him much in return, focusing your attention on Jennifer’s incredible mundane story about work.

KFC was ordered for dinner and when the driver arrived, Andrew got up to pay while you got the dishes ready in the kitchen and organized the kids at the table. Your polite guests helped to plate the take-out food once Andrew brought in the brown paper bags and you divided everything up and served the children first. You made sure they each had a juice box and plentiful napkins and George cut up Nancy’s chicken for her on her plate at the same time. Andrew and Jennifer took your grown-up plates to the dining room, leaving you and George alone in the kitchen with the kids for a moment.

When you drifted over to throw away the plastic straw wrappers in the trash bin under the sink, George followed you to rinse his hands quickly. Before you could escape, he grabbed your sleeve with one finger to stop you.

In a quiet voice, he asked, “Are you avoiding me?”

“No.” you answered flatly.

“Are you sure? I haven’t seen you all week and on Sunday you seemed upset. Now you can hardly look at me. Does Andrew know-”

“No.” you said firmly, stopping the conversation quickly in such a risky location. Your eyes darted past him to the kitchen table where your children were munching away happily, clueless. You looked back at him, “I don’t want to talk about this. Especially not right now.”

Then you slipped away from him and through the doorway into the adjacent dining room. Andrew and Jennifer were already sitting at the set dining room table, diagonally from each other, and your husband pulled out your chair for you beside his with a smile. You sat down with a quiet thanks to him and George joined you and took his spot across from Andrew, his eyes lingering on you with uncertainty.

The side dishes were lined in the centre of the table and you all passed around the bowls and helped yourselves to the servings over casual chatter. You stayed quieter than usual, picking at the food on your plate as you tried to keep your nausea at bay - the cause being your newly discovered pregnancy but also the guilt that never failed to turn your stomach and raise bile in your throat. Your fork nudged against a piece of macaroni salad as George shared a story from that week surrounding something cute that Nancy had done but you were barely listening. Instead, you stared at your plate and took the smallest bites known to man, silently praying - as you constantly had been all week - for a brown eyed baby. In reality, you knew that the likelihood of that was not in your favour.

The sudden feeling of your mouth dampening had you setting your fork down onto your plate with a shaky, “Excuse me a moment.”

Andrew watched as you got up quickly from your chair, your napkin falling to the floor, and you disappeared out of the dining room. Your guests sat, startled, as your footsteps hurried up the stairs to the second floor followed by a dull thud of your door closing.

You dropped to your knees in front of the toilet just in time to throw up into it, your hands gripping the sides of the bowl as the cool tile stung against your knees. Tears burning your eyes and you shut them tightly as you slowly wiped your lips with the back of your trembling hand, sniffling back your regretful sorrow. The soft knock at the bathroom door had you flushing the toilet before answering with a faint acknowledgment. You had half hoped it was George - but why would it have been? - although Andrew slipping inside the bathroom with you shouldn’t have been that much of a surprise.

“Hey.” he cooed, crouching onto the ground with you and he pulled your hair out of your face and away from your flushed skin, “You okay, my love?”

You sniffled and slouched against the toilet, “No.”

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” he kissed your temple and then carefully helped you to your feet and over to the sink. Like he always had done when you were pregnant with Richard, he wiped your mouth with a cool damp cloth and brushed your tangled hair for you as you rested lazily against the vanity.

“It’s so embarrassing.” you mumbled.

“Hm?” Andrew encouraged as he finished with your hair, fluffing the soft curls over your shoulders.

“We have guests and I just ran away from the table to puke. That’s so embarrassing.”

Andrew smiled softly as you leaned back against his chest and he tucked your hair behind your ear so he could kiss your cheek, “I’m sure they understand.”

A slight panic hinted at your voice, “You didn’t tell them, did you?”

“No. Although I’m thinking we should.”

“No.” you answered quickly.

Staring at each other through the mirror, his arm around your middle and his hand rested over your stomach, Andrew questioned, “Why not? Now seems like a perfect time.”

You couldn’t think of a valid excuse that wouldn’t completely give you away. You merely shrugged.

“Don’t be embarrassed, sugar.” Andrew reassured you with a warm smile, “They have two kids of their own, after all. I’m sure they’ll be happy for us. Besides, maybe now Nancy can have a playmate.”

Oh yes, you thought to yourself, George is going to be just so happy. This whole situation just screamed ‘happy’.

Back in the dining room, you and Andrew returned to your seats and you offered a soft apology to your guests over your sudden disappearance.

“Are you alright?” George asked politely, his wife at his side watching you worriedly, both of them full of friendly compassion.

You pulled a tight smile and a curt nod as you picked up your fork again, “Fine.”

You couldn’t look at him. You knew that if you did, you would be sent to vomit again by the hellscape of emotions that swirled around your mind. But Andrew had a different plan as he set his hand on top of yours on the table and he looked over at you as if asking for your permission to speak. You didn’t move, eyes downcast to your plate, played off effortlessly as shyness.

“We actually have some news we want to share.” Andrew announced to your guests.

The children in the adjacent kitchen laughed and chatted loudly, the sounds of their joy echoing around in your mind, stirring stresses of how much their lives could be affected by this simple announcement. Nothing felt simple anymore.

George shifted in his chair as if he knew something was going on - something not quite right. He speared another bite of his dinner with his fork without taking his attention away from Andrew’s accidentally dramatic pause while his wife continued to eat, unfazed, at his side. Andrew gave your hand a squeeze and your mouth felt dry, blood gone cold, and your breath was held in your lungs.

Your husband looked at your guests with that soft smile of his, “We’re expecting.”

As Jennifer swooned with celebratory congratulations, the noise of the room fell into echoing silence as you finally looked up from your plate and your gaze instantly magnetized to the man sitting diagonally across from you. George was already staring at you, his handsome face fallen in stricken shock. Your internal thoughts settled heavily on your conscious, realization that the choices you shared were the sole cause of this announcement that was feigned at joy by your spouses.

You only had to glance at George to see it all over his face.

He knew it too.

THE END

Taglist: @wetforwolff @thef1diary @nikfigueiredo @ming-h0e @minkyungseokie @dark-night-sky-99 @woozarts @likedbygaslyy @saachiep81 @voidsfics

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spacebarbarianweird · 1 day

Text

Instinct

Synopsis: Astarion and Tiriel have a very busy night after a battle and have to deal with unexpected consequences.

Tags: smut, breeding, hurt/comfort, some emotional angst It's not exactly a breeding fic since neither Astarion nor Tiriel planned to have a child, but the shameless smut ended with unplanned pregnancy. And now they have to deal with what comes next. Bonus: you will learn why Astarion calls Alethaine 'princess'

Thanks @themadlu for beta-reading!

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Tiriel won’t let them take her home from her.

She has never had one. Always a stranger, always a wanderer, but Daggerlake became her home. A place that welcomed both her and Astarion, thanking them for saving the townsfolk from a nasty fey pact.

Ever since then, Tiriel belongs – she has had a roof above her head and friends among the townsfolk. And even Astarion can relax because the town has a vast underground part where he is safe in the shadows without having to hide.

And those bandits decided they could take it away from Tiriel?

They should have thought better!

Tiriel steps over a dead body. The fight is over and so is her rage. She single-handedly finished off a dozen of these men and women who didn’t know who their enemy was.

But her body wishes for more – more fight, more blood, more rage.

She looks around trying to see Astarion, but he is nowhere to be seen. It’s night and Astarion rushed to the surface part of the town letting the people of Daggerlake protect their homes and families while he, a full-fledged vampire, was going to show those bandits they had chosen the wrong town to attack.

Suddenly, someone grabs the fistful of her hair forcing her to gasp.

“Astarion?”

She looks at him and innate fear pierces her. They've been together for twenty years, but Tiriel hardly remembers him looking like this.

He looks like a vampire.

Like a vampire on a hunt.

His eyes glow red, and his clothes are soaked in blood. His skin feels feverish and his pupils are dilated.

Tiriel knows it’s him but she also can’t suppress her fear. He is a predator, a hunter, a vampire. Should he be her enemy, she won’t be able to protect herself.

He pulls her closer and kisses her. Tiriel feels the blood of a dozen dead enemies on his lips. His strong hands squeeze her and she knows he will fuck her right here among the dead bodies in the streets of their hometown if she allows it.

Tiriel answers him with the same passion – he wants to be a dangerous vampire? Good to know – because she can be a wild warrior girl who takes what she desires.

But Astarion isn't in the mood for being dominated, and he drags Tiriel back to their home – anyone who would see them right now would think this an assault, not a prelude to lovemaking.

Astarion pushes Tiriel behind the gate. As he closes it, Tiriel gets a sudden idea.

If he wants to be a predator tonight, she should let him play till the end.

She drops her ax on the ground and rushes inside the house – there aren't many places to hide but she is going to let him chase her. And maybe fight a bit.

“And where do you think you are going?” He growls. His voice sounds different and even scary. Nothing more intimidating than a blood-drunk vampire.

“Such a terrifying vampire needs to hunt his prey,” Tiriel laughs.

“Don’t tease me, wild girl!”

She rushes to their bedroom, but before she even manages to think about her next move Astarion jumps on her from the ceiling, pinning her to the floor.

And then he starts ripping her clothes off.

Tiriel roars and pushes Astarion with all her remaining strength. He pulls away but only for a moment before sinking his fangs in her neck. She gasps from the sudden pain but still tries to knock him down.

With every moment her movements become weaker and she finally stops resisting letting Astarion ravish her body.

He pulls away studying her face.

“On your knees.”

Tiriel abides. Her shirt is ripped and shows off her breasts.

“Good girl,” he mutters, getting rid of his own clothes. His cock is painfully hard and Tiriel cannot think about anything but having it inside her.

He approaches her, tugs her by her shirt’s collar, and pushes her to the bed. He tears the rest of her clothes off and bites her again.

Tiriel’s world shrinks to these two things – pleasure and pain.

Astarion doesn’t waste any time and penetrates Tiriel, causing her to yelp.

His thrusts are rough and so are his touches.

Tiriel, drunk with her own rage, keeps fighting back – she scratches his skin, tugs his hair, tries to push him as if he was assaulting her and every one of her movements makes Astarion wilder, rougher, scarier.

She manages to get away from under him, but he immediately presses her chest-down into the bed. Now, he fucks her from behind placing his blood-hot palm on her back.

Slap.

His palm leaves a red print on her butt and Tiriel gasps.

“Astarion-” Tiriel mewls as he leans to wrap his hands around her chest. He pierces her shoulder and keeps moving roughly.

He comes with a guttural groan and kisses Tiriel so intensely she is afraid to suffocate.

And instead of pulling away, he proceeds to fuck her again.

This time, he is very gentle and his eyes don’t glow anymore.

“Astarion!” she gasps when he bites her breasts.

“Delicious,” he mutters, licking the droplets of blood from her sensitive skin.

His second orgasm comes simultaneously with hers and she clenches around him forcing Astarion to stay inside her.

Astarion sees it as permission for the third round. He sits up and places her hips on his lap.

She squirms riding her orgasm and cries out something incoherent, but it seems like Astarion isn’t going to stop any time soon.

Tiriel has a weird feeling his heart is beating.

“Such a good girl,” he hisses. “And all mine.”

“All yours.”

Astarion moans in her ear and she feels his seed leaking down her sore thighs once again.

As it happens, Tiriel feels the world fading away, and the last thing she sees is Astarion’s red eyes.

When Tiriel wakes up, her body is sore and her skin feels disgusting. The mess between her legs has caked and the bite marks all over her body itch.

She gets up and gasps with a sudden pain – her body is covered in bruises, and she doesn't know which of them are from her enemies and which are from her lover.

Probably teasing Astarion was a bad idea.

She needs to bathe.

Tiriel puts her legs on the floor and notices her clothes folded up carefully.

And repaired.

She smiles at the thought that all these hours of her sleep Astarion was right there sewing and watching her. He loves watching her sleep. When she asked him about this habit before, he confessed that he didn’t see a point in looking at anything else but her.

Tiriel opens the door of the bathroom – Astarion sits in the hot water with a book he puts down the second she enters.

“Careful, darling, entering like that. I might want another round.”

“I can barely walk. Spare me, my lord.”

Astarion chuckles and tugs Tiriel into the bathtub.

“How much did I sleep?”

“Almost a day.”

Tiriel sits beside him and Astarion places his head on her chest.

“You know, everyone would think we should be less passionate two decades into our relationship.”

Astarion kisses her shoulder. “You are not getting any colder.”

“Oh no, you love me only for my body warmth! And what if some vampire turns me into an undead?”

Astarion doesn't answer immediately. A decade ago this joke would offend him so much he wouldn’t have talked to her for the whole day – but the nightmares and terrors of his past life have been left behind.

“Then we would lie in each other arms in front of a fireplace, forever young, forever beautiful”

She caresses his ears and he nuzzles her collarbone.

Then Tiriel looks into the water.

“How much did you drink yesterday?”

“A lot.”

Tiriel sighs and straddles his lap, feeling his hardness between her legs. Astarion doesn’t hesitate – a second later, she is already rolling her hips as his cold cock gets warmer inside of her.

“You know… You feel much better… when you are like that,” she admits. “Cold, no heartbeat. That’s more to my liking.”

Tiriel feels awful. It seems like her own body is revolting against her.

“Go to see the healer,” Astarion asks. “Tiriel, honestly, if you don't go yourself, I will drag you there.”

“Tyrant.”

“And you behave like a child! Gods, sometimes I forget I am 200 years older than you!”

Tiriel looks at him and frowns. “You are not.”

“Tiriel, you are my sunshine and my love, but your lack of cognitive abilities is beyond me. How old were you when we met?”

“Thirty-six.”

“Good. By that time, I had been enslaved for 200 years and I was turned at 39. I am more than two centuries older than you.”

Tiriel wants to say something, but she vomits again.

“I'm just sick! Aaah!”

Astarion pulls her up and slings her on his shoulder as if she were his war bounty.

Despite all her efforts, she can’t free herself and accepts her fate. Thankfully, it's rather late and most of the townsfolk are asleep, though she notices a jealous look from a baker.

“Put me on the ground.”

“Let them see what real relationships look like. You know that the blacksmith’s daughters asked me where they can find vampires like me?”

“Hope you didn't send them to the Underdark?”

“I told them I am one of a kind,” Astarion slaps her butt. “But we need to remind these people who we are.”

Astarion stays outside as Tiriel enters the healer’s hut – its owner, a halfling woman, looks at her with annoyance.

“What happened, Tiriel?”

“I am fine! My husband forced me to visit you.” Tiriel describes the symptoms. “I think I got food poisoning.”

“Food poisoning… Tell me, Tiriel, when was the last time you bled?”

Tiriel ponders. Her cycle has always been irregular –- a common thing among half-elfs. Humans are the most fertile race in Faerun, whilst elves are known to see their rare children as gifts from gods. So, Tiriel’s rare menstruations are unexpected obstacles, not something she should endure once a month.

And besides, she sleeps with an elf AND a vampire.

“I don’t remember. Maybe last winter.”

The healer hands her a tiny bundle of herbs. “Chew it. But don’t eat.”

The taste is so gross that Tiriel almost vomits again. She spews it on the floor - and the herb slowly changes its color to black.

“What’s the fuck is that?”

“Tastes like bile, doesn’t it? Oh, why do I have to go through all of this… I knew it couldn’t end well when we invited you two to stay here. You are pregnant.”

“I am… what?”

“You are pregnant, Tiriel.”

“With all due respect – my husband is a fucking vampire! I think his ability to fuck a child into anyone went to the grave along with his breathing, heart beating, and food preferences!”

“I am sure I’ve heard of half-vampires. Now go! I have more urgent patients to take care of. You know, it was a bad idea to use the innkeeper like a battering ram!”

Tiriel leaves the hut feeling as if she was just hit with something heavy.

“Tiriel?” Astarion looks worriedly. “What did she say?”

Tiriel is so scared she wants to cry. There is something inside her, something alive and growing – she can think of her husband as an elf all she wants, but right now she carries something half-dead inside her. Something unnatural. Something… that belongs to the shadows more than to the realm of mortals.

“My sweet, what is it?” Astarion demands. “What happened?”

And Tiriel confesses.

“Maybe… is it a mistake? She could have made a mistake! Gods! No, it can’t be…” He panics.

“Too much blood,” Tiriel says.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ve drunk too much, remember? I could hear your heartbeat. You were almost alive…. And I…” Tiriel hesitates. “I have my period once a year. It probably was the day when I could conceive.”

Astarion shakes his head. He gets anxious. Scared. She knows this face too well.

“Astarion!” She tries to grab his hand, but the vampire is too fast. In a moment, he disappears in the tunnels. “Astarion!”

Tiriel stays alone in the streets. She sniffs and returns back home, so quiet and silent.

She can’t imagine Astarion leaving her, but she also can’t imagine herself pregnant.

Maybe he is right, the healer could have been mistaken. She needs to wait. Yes, Tiriel needs to wait.

Astarion doesn’t return in the morning. He doesn’t return the next day. Tiriel feels terrible – she can barely eat or walk. The very thought of going after her husband feels exhausting – she just wants to lie in her bed without making any coherent movement.

She also constantly cries – Tiriel tries to justify it with the feeling of loneliness, but deep inside she knows the answer.

These are the mood swings a pregnant woman endures.

Astarion has never felt so shitty and pathetic in the last twenty years.

He despises himself for his fear and doubts.

His nature demands him to run. To leave and never return. Whatever Tiriel has inside, he can’t deal with it. He can’t be a parent. He doesn't want to become one.

Two centuries of enslavement – only twenty years of freedom. And now what? Will he be stuck raising a child? Which might be born so deranged and ugly it will be barely a sentient being.

He can run. He can disappear and leave Tiriel. She is a beautiful brave woman, the moment the townsfolk realize Astarion is gone there will be a line of men and women courting her.

Even with a monster child.

He walks through Secomber, a sleepy town on the border between the Sword Coast and the High Wood. It took him two days to get here and now he tries to make up his mind.

And what if it’s not his? Tiriel is so loyal and loving, but what if she wanted someone warm, someone who didn’t drink her blood? She could have gotten drunk and picked a man for a one-night stand.

No, it’s not like her.

Astarion is just a pathetic coward who can’t bear responsibility.

He has to come back. He can’t abandon the only person he ever truly loved and who never abandoned him even in his darkest hours.

But he is still afraid. He is paralyzed.

Suddenly he hears a loud cry.

He turns around and sees a human girl, maybe four or five (he still has issues with understanding human age, always assuming someone is younger than they are). She sits on the side of the road, her dress, a tiny copy of an adult one, is dirty, and her knee is bruised. The girl sobs as tears flow down her cheeks.

A weird feeling stirs in Astarion’s undead heart. A desire to console this child, to do something to stop her from crying. She is so vulnerable, so scared… and where the fuck are her parents, or whoever is responsible?!

The door to the tavern opens and a young man rushes to the girl.

“Daddy, I’ve fallen down… and…” She cries, wrapping her hands around his neck.

“That’s all, right, princess,” he answers, stroking her back. Suddenly the man turns around and notices Astarion. “Are you looking for something?”

“What? No, I just heard the cries.”

“Well, she cries so loud she can be heard in Daggerlake. If you need a room, there is another inn on the western side of the town. We are out of beds today.”

Astarion shakes his head. No. He is going back. The sunrise will meet him in the woods and he will hide in a cave. He will be back to Tiriel in two days, begging her to forgive him.

Because he can’t live without her. And he…he wants to experience what is coming next.

“Princess… An interesting pet name,” Astarion chuckles. The girl has already stopped crying and now she watches the vampire with curiosity.

“Yeah, we are far from nobles,” the innkeeper smiles. “But she is my only daughter and who are girls to their fathers if not princesses?” with these words he kisses the girl’s forehead and enters the inn, closing the door.

Astarion walks inside the house. Tiriel is fast asleep, he can hear her breathing. The kitchen is messy – it seems like his half-elf wife was hungry all these days but didn’t have any strength to clean the mess.

Astarion comes to the bedroom and lies beside her. Tiriel opens her eyes and touches his cheek with tender fingers.

“I knew you would be back.”

“I am sorry. I was scared.”

“I was, too. But I can’t run away from what is inside me.”

“I know, love. I will never do this again”

Tiriel places her cheek on his chest. “If the child is half-undead, can I ever carry it?”

“I don’t know.”

They lie in silence holding each other in their hands.

“You know… I’ve been deprived of mortality,” Astarion says. “Everything normal was taken away from me. And yet I am here. Married. With my own house. Free to do anything I want. When I was in Secomber, I saw a man with his daughter. And you know, I just… wanted the same thing. To carry my own child in my arms. Because it’s a normal mortal thing and if so, I will be no different from that young innkeeper who calls his baby daughter ‘princess’.”

Tiriel caresses his cheek. “I need to go to that innkeeper and ask if he needs anything for returning my husband to me.”

“You need to see the girl. Such a lovely little creature,” he smiles.

“Ours will be lovely too.”

Astarion elbows up. “Tiriel… we are going to keep it, aren’t we?”

Tiriel sighs. She did think about terminating, Astarion realizes. In those dark hours when he was hiding like a coward.

“I want to keep it,” Tiriel says. “Besides… I am still a half-elf. It’s not like miscarriages are rare among my race. Let’s see how it works out.”

Astarion smiles and finally relaxes enough to meditate.

Druids hate the undead because, unlike nature, they can't change. He will prove them all wrong. His life is changing and he is too.

In the best and scariest way possible.

He puts his palm on Tiriel’s flat belly. Somehow, he is sure they are going to have a girl. -- Tag list

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hollytoshaw · 3 days

Text

noisy neighbour part two | harry lewis

✩ ✩ ✩

summary: in which y/n owns a coffee shop and harry is her noisy neighbour

word count : 5.7k

part one here

a/n: this is part two of my noisy neighbour series!!! read part one before this <3 there will be more parts to this as its a proper slow burnerrr. sorry for the slow updates i haven't forgotten about this series lol xxx

masterlist <3333

✩ ✩ ✩

Y/N had come to the conclusion that life was much better when she didn’t let silly lies get in her way. It had been a week since she had come clean to her noisy neighbour, or Harry, as she now knew him, and life couldn’t get any better.

After the pair had laughed about her moment of foolishness and how they were both a little too loud for their own good, they were able to move past it all and properly get to know the person they were living next door to.

Y/N found out more about Harry’s whole ‘Youtuber’ lifestyle. He was part of a group of seven boys that made videos that came out every Sunday, but he also had other channels in which he’d play computer games and do funny reaction videos—the source of all that playful shouting she had heard through the walls. He told her that he’d gotten bored of his old apartment and wanted a change of scenery, so he chose the small-scale but nonetheless nice flat next door to hers. He lived alone and was 27; his favourite colour was blue, and his favourite cake was chocolate. He liked coffee,cycling, surfing, and the occasional beer, and he loved travelling anywhere in the world, near or far; he just loved exploring places. He had two younger siblings, a brother and a sister, and was from a little channel island named Guernsey. Y/N had never been.

She told him all the little details she could think of about herself in return. She was always sort of bad at introductions, cringing when they used to say ‘’Tell us three facts about you’’ in school, never knowing what to say. But she managed nonetheless. She told him all about her dream of having a cafe of her own and how she came to do so. She loved old music, mainly Abba, to which he laughed and told her he knew already, making a playful jab at the singing he had heard from next door. She too lived alone but was 26; her favourite colour was green, and her favourite cake was lemon. She also liked coffee, not so much cycling or surfing, and opted for cider whenever she went to the pub. While she hadn’t been travelling much herself due to paying off her university debts and then starting up her coffee shop, she still shared the desire to travel anywhere in the world—far away from London.

It was such a breath of fresh air for Y/N. Owning a cafe all on her own meant early mornings and late nights, and her weekends were either spent visiting her parents or nestled away in her flat watching episodes of Vanderpump Rules or trying new recipes for baked goods that she was thinking about selling in the cafe. Because of this, she had found it hard to find time to make friends, and while she had her fair share, she barely saw them; they either had big city jobs or were living outside of London and starting a family. It just felt nice for Y/N to just sit and chat with someone a similar age to her and talk about nonsense for a while.

While the conversation the pair shared was cut short by Harry needing to get to work and record a podcast, they shared numbers (only in case one of them got a parcel for the other, of course), and Harry said he’d pop back in soon to finish where they left off.

So that was it. It had been a week, and she hadn’t seen him since, but that was all she could think about. It wasn’t even like Y/N had a crush, or so she convinced herself, but she longed to talk to him again; it just felt nice. While the occasional old lady that came into the cafe was great to chat with, asking away about how her day was going or what their plans were for the day, she still preferred the little chat she had with Harry; it just felt different, and she couldn’t put her finger on why.

But then she got all in her own head. Maybe he didn’t come back in because he realised she was a bit weird, having lied about living next door and that he was only being friendly and entertaining the conversation, but in reality, he didn’t want to be talking to her at all. Y/N knew she was probably getting a bit ahead of herself, but she couldn’t help but think the worst. She had always been a bit of a pessimist.

It was now Monday again, and the cafe had just begun to die down after the lunch rush. After cleaning tables and putting cups and saucers back in place, Y/N finally felt like she had it all under control. There was no one in the shop, and looking at the time, the clock read 1:00 p.m., a perfect chance for Y/N to have her lunch break. She had scoffed a croissant earlier that morning and topped herself up with flat whites throughout the day, but now she was starving. She walked over to the door, flipping the ‘open’ sign to ‘close’ and walked back behind the counter to prepare herself something nice to eat.

She wasn’t long into making a ham and cheese toastie when she heard three loud knocks on the glass door. Usually she’d shout ‘’We’re closed’’ and continue what she was doing, but another three knocks followed, and she thought she’d just let them in and eat her sandwich another time.

As she turned around, she saw a hooded figure standing outside the door—it was lashing rain in London today (shocker) —but she could barely make their face out through the raindrops on the door. Nearing closer, she realised it was Harry. After a week, he’d returned. Maybe her pessimism wasn’t always right.

Letting him in, she moved back as he took his coat off, the black puffer soaked from the awful weather.

''Hello, you,’’ he smiled, lifting the hood of his jumper from his head. ‘’Didn’t realise you closed this early.’’

‘’Hiya,’’ she smiled back. ‘’Just closed for lunch, that’s all.’’

Furrowing his brows, he replied, ''U-Oh, right, I can come back later if you’re busy.’’

She laughed, taking his coat from him to hang it up on the coat stand next to the door. ‘’Don’t be silly. I’m only having a toastie, nothing special.’’

‘’Lovely stuff,’’ he said, clapping his hands together and following her towards the counter.

‘’How’ve you been?’’ she asked. ‘’Horrible weather today, isn’t it?’’ Classic brit filling empty silence with talks of the weather.

‘’I know, proper pain in the arse,’’ he laughed. ‘’Been good, though. Just back from a holiday with the boys, but so typical, I’ve come back to the shittest weather possible.’’

''Ooh, lucky you,’’ Y/N smiled as she resumed the making of her lunch. ‘’Go anywhere nice?’’

‘’Went to the Maldives for two days for a video,’’ he said nonchalantly, ‘’was a good laugh though.’’

‘’Wow, that must've been unreal.’’ she gasped, placing her sandwich on a small green plate before looking back at him. ‘’Can I get you anything to eat? I feel like a knob if I’m sat scoffing my face and I’ve not made you anything.’’

Harry smiled, watching as the girl moved her plaited hair so that it was out of her face. He thought she was quite pretty with her hair tied back, freckled cheeks, and a peach-coloured blusher on her face. She was wearing her same old green apron, but instead of the jumper she had on the last time he saw her, she had a striped long-sleeve top paired with black jeans. Yeah, she was really quite pretty, he thought.

‘’No, I’m fine, thanks. I got a meal deal in the airport earlier,’’ he paused. ‘’And I’m trying to keep off the cakes, but they do look bloody brilliant today.’’

Y/N laughed, ''Well, you’re in the wrong place if you’re trying to keep off the sweet stuff. I got cakes coming out of my ears in this place.’’

The conversation felt easy for Y/N. It was almost weird to think about their first few conversations, stiff and awkward, thinking the other was a bit rude and not really interested in making small talk. But now, it felt like they could talk for ages; the initial uneasiness was now a distant memory.

‘’So what brings you here?’’ she started. ‘’Surprised you’re not straight to bed after that long flight.’’

They sat down at a little table in front of the counter, Y/N enjoying her lunch and Harry watching, fumbling with his fingers.

''Oh, trust me, I’m knackered.’’ he laughed. ‘’But I thought I’d pop in. Remember, I said I would last time, finish where we left off, and all.’’

Course Y/N was remembered. It had been all she thought about for the last seven days.

‘’Oh right, yeah’’ she said between mouthfuls of her sandwich. ‘’Well,tell me all about this Maldives trip then.’’

✩ ✩ ✩

A few days had passed since Y/N and Harry’s last encounter. And that was all she could think about.

After leaving her cafe to go back to his flat, the pair shared a few jokey text messages: Harry sending her random pictures he’d taken on his holiday and Y/N sharing snaps of new baked goods that she’d made, with him responding with a classic ‘Save me one.’ It was nothing serious, but it was nice to have playful conversations away from her busy working day and Harry’s video shoots.

Despite only a small proximity separating the pair, Y/N longed for the next time she might bump into him, almost hoping that a parcel would get delivered to the wrong address to give her some reason to knock on his door or that he’d finally succumb to his sweet tooth and trod down the stairs to try whatever fresh baked treats she had to offer.

It made her laugh that only a few weeks ago she’d dreaded the thought of seeing him and hated the thought of having to make small talk with him, but now it was all she’d thought of. And don’t get her wrong, she was no romanticist or anything of that sort but when she found something she liked or in this case, a person she liked talking to, it was hard for her to take her mind away from them.

Another day had come to an end for Y/N. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee lingered in the air as she wiped down the last table in her cosy little shop. It had been a long day for her, filled with the hustle and bustle of customers coming in and out. She felt swept off her feet trying to make sure everything ran smoothly and made a mental note that maybe it was time to hire some help.

Now, as the clock struck closing time, Y/N couldn’t wait to retreat to the comfort of her upstairs flat. Locking up the cafe, she made her way up the narrow staircase and into her home. The familiar creak of the stairs under her feet echoed in the empty hallway—a comforting sound that signalled the end of another day’s work.

As she reached the door, she let out a contented sigh—peace at last. Turning the key in the lock, she pushed open the door and stepped into her sanctuary.

The soft glow of string lights greeted her, casting a warm and inviting atmosphere through the room. She’d forgotten to turn them off the night before and was surprised the batteries had lasted the day. Kicking off her shoes, she padded across the hardwood floor to her living area, where a plush green sofa beckoned her to sink into its comforting embrace.

Her days always went the same after work. She’d come upstairs, sit down on the sofa, and stick some random television show on for some background noise, needing to just sit for a moment after being on her feet all day. The stress of the day always melted away as she allowed herself to just be in the moment, relishing the peace and quiet of her own space.

Next to the sofa, a stack of books awaited her attention. She had been reading some Dolly Alderton novel that a friend had recommended, and so far she was loving it. There was nothing quite like getting lost in the pages of a good book; all she needed now was a nice cup of tea, and she’d be in heaven.

It’d felt like hours had passed as Y/N finally got to the end of another chapter. The gentle hum of the TV in the background continued as Y/N settled down the book and turned her attention to her phone, wondering if she had any new messages from a certain someone. And lo and behold, she did.

Clicking the message open, she saw a picture that Harry had taken from what she assumed to be his living room. Her view was similar, just at a different angle—the Shoreditch’s streets looking equally as ‘London’-esque from both their windows. He had added a little message to the bottom of it: ‘This weather is mental. Think it calls for tea and some cake.’ Y/N hadn’t seen the message with her phone on ‘Do not disturb’ and her eyes well focused on the piece of fiction she was reading, and he had sent it over twenty minutes ago, but she assumed he was still next door, not wanting to dare step out in the treacherous rain.

She wondered if he was hinting at her to send him a text and offer some cakes from downstairs. Or maybe even invite him over to try the pastries she’d sent him a picture of only a few days ago. Of course, Y/N didn’t really know if he was hinting at anything, but she really hoped he was. The time on her phone showed it was just past 7:00 p.m., and having eaten a small lunch earlier in the day, she too was in the mood for some cake and tea, not really bothered by the thought of cooking dinner and having to wash up loads of pots and pans in the kitchen.

She lifted herself up from the comfy sofa and into her kitchen space, opening the fridge to see if she had any nice delights to cure her craving. There sat a small blue tupperware, inside two vanilla cupcakes, left over from the day, perfect. Two. Perfect.

Whether he had been hinting or not, Y/N took the tupperware in hand and stuffed her feet into her fluffy slippers. Unlocking her door and making her way down the stairs towards his door, she felt giddy. She thought it was a nice gesture to turn up with a little treat that he had longed for, and she hoped maybe the two could share a nice chat over a cup of tea as they looked out on the London rain. It’d be nice.

As she got to the door, she lifted her hand up, ready to press the buzzer to his blue door, but as she did, she heard the faint strains of music drifting through the air, accompanied by a girl’s laughter. Her hand froze, and a wave of disappointment washed over her. Doubt crept into Y/N’s mind, and she couldn’t bring herself to interrupt whatever moment Harry was sharing with another.

With a heavy sigh, Y/N turned on her heel and retreated back up the stairs to her flat. She knew she was being silly, but she felt a sting in her heart, and she couldn’t shake the image of Harry’s front door from her mind.

Back in her kitchen. Y/N set the cupcakes on the counter; her appetite for something sweet was now long gone. She wondered if she had misinterpreted Harry’s kindness and their conversations as something more. Sure, the two had shared a few playful texts, updates throughout the day, and random pictures, but that was the extent of it so far. Y/N felt like an idiot.

She never did respond to Harry’s text that night.

✩ ✩ ✩

Another few days passed, and Y/N had finally gotten over her little strop. Well…sort of. She didn’t have much to go on other than the fact that she’d heard a woman’s voice and lots of laughter, which she knew didn’t necessarily mean Harry had a girlfriend, but she'd rather nip her feelings in the bud than wonder about the what-ifs that could of been had he opened the door. Plus, Y/N felt a bit silly. He’d never given an indication that their chats were anything more than friendly, and the texts they shared weren’t suggestive in any way—I mean, you could probably send your mother the same things. So she knew it was better to cut her little strop short before she got herself all tangled up in her feelings.

She’d had another long week in the cafe, busy with big orders and endless amounts of coffee, and she knew it was definitely time she put out an advertisement for a job vacancy. But that was a job for another day as she was currently getting ready to go out with a few friends in a pub just near Old Street. It had been a while since she’d found the time to meet up with people (with their big city jobs and her never ending hustle in the cafe) and considering she’d given Harry radio silence for the past few days, this was the most socialising she’d done outside of the occasional old lady in the cafe. So, Y/N was buzzing. She reached for her favourite pair of Adidas Sambas, their sleek black design accentuating her style. The leather was very worn despite carrying many stories of past adventures. Y/N made a mental note that she’d get a new pair out of her next paycheck. Her outfit was bold yet chic, a lot different from her usual jeans, t-shirt, and green apron combo. A leopard print midi skirt is paired with a black fitted crop top and a leather jacket over her shoulders to give the outfit unmistakable flair. She always enjoyed dressing up, even if it was just for a quick pint—it just gave her something to do and was a nice change from her usual get-up.

With a flick of her wrist, she grabbed her essentials—a phone, cardholder, and keys—and headed out the door. It wasn’t raining in London for once, with spring slowly creeping in, so Y/N didn’t bother with an umbrella, deciding her jacket was enough protection from whatever the weather had in mind. It felt nice as she walked along the busy Shoreditch streets with the city lights beckoning, couples holding hands, groups of friends laughing—it made her heart squeeze, and she felt like the night was promising her excitement and all sorts of possibilities.

The pub night was everything Y/N had hoped it would be. It had been a welcome contrast of warmth and laughter, and seeing her friends, who usually worked nine to five, was a breath of fresh air. With flushed cheeks from all the lively conversations and talks of fond memories, not to mention the five pints of fruity cider she had drank, Y/N left the pub with the cheesiest grin on her face. A few kisses to the cheek and warm hugs later, Y/N waved goodbye to her group of mates and headed back towards the Old Street roundabout.

The city seemed quieter now; most of its energy was subdued despite it only being 10:00 p.m. Walking around familiar streets, she felt a sense of comfort in solitude but wished she hadn’t forgotten her airpods because there’d be nothing better than a peaceful stroll accompanied by her favourite indie music playlist in the back.

The pub was only about a ten-minute walk from her flat, so it didn’t take too long, and Y/N felt herself subconsciously speed walking as the cold London air got to her, now regretting her choice of jacket. As she neared closer to her doorstep, she could see a hooded figure placed on it, a backpack in front of them, and a phone in their hand as they scrolled aimlessly. Her eyes felt a bit hazy from the cider, and she approached apprehensively, her mind wandering to the possibilities of it being a crazy ex-boyfriend or a drunken friend hoping to rest their heads for the night. But as she moved closer, her anxiousness eased. It was only her neighbour. Harry. Harry, who she’d given the cold shoulder to for the past few days.

His friendly face looked up at the sound of her approaching footsteps. A slightly flustered expression on his face.

‘’Hi Harry,’’ she smiled. ‘’You alright?’’

Getting up from his crouched position, he moved aside, letting her stand in front of her own door. ''Oh, you life saver, been waiting ages.’’

She looked up at him, a glow on her face, not too sure if it was caused by the pints or his general presence. ‘’What for?’’

‘’I’ve been a right numpty and locked myself out.’’ he laughed.

‘’Oh shit,’’ she laughed back, buzzing from alcohol. Y/N was a lightweight by definition; the smell of alcohol could probably get her drunk, and at this moment she felt buzzed.

‘’I know, pain the arse,’’ Harry said, pinching in between his eyes. ‘’Can’t even try to get a key cut because everywhere’s shut.’’

‘’You got any friends that’ll let you crash for the night?’’ Y/N asked, feeling genuine concern for the poor boy sitting outside their doors. She hadn’t even asked how long he’d been there—it could have been hours.

‘’Tried a few but got no response,’’ Harry sighed, "I guess no one wants a rogue sleepover at 10 at night.’’

‘’Good friends you’ve got,’’ she teased, confidence of drink taking over her.

‘’Oh shush you,’’ he playfully said back.

A small silence fell over the toy as Y/N fumbled around in her bag to find her keys, the street light giving her enough of a torch to be able to find them. Every time she drank, she’d experience a small panic that she’d managed to lose all of her belongings, but luckily for her, everything seemed intact.

‘’So what are you going to do?’’ Y/N said as she went to put her key in the lock.

Harry paused for a moment. While the two had shared the occasional message and nice chat over coffee, he felt a bit bold with what he was about to ask. Not being the most social person, he had weighed out the options of whether or not it would be awkward if she'd say yes to his question—he'd more than likely have to sit chatting for a while and then maybe have an uncomfortable sleep on whatever sofa or bed she’d have to offer—but at the same time, he reminded himself that it was only Y/N and whatever awkwardness could have come between them had well and truly been dissolved by their initial meeting. And truthfully, Harry was all for saying outlandish things and asking rogue questions, so if she did say no, he’d just take it on the chin and find somewhere else to go.

‘’I hate to ask,’’ he paused sheepishly. ‘’I really do. But by any chance, I could come in for a bit, or at least till one of my friends picks up their phone and lets me stay around theirs.’’

‘’You hate to ask?’’ Y/N smirked, cocking her head to one side. ‘’Am I really that insufferable?’’

Harry’s eyes widened at her words. ''N-no, no, not at all. It’s just that I thought, ’’

‘’Stop your blubbering for a moment,’’ she laughed. ‘’It’s fine, really.’’

‘’You sure?’’ he smiled. ‘’Don’t have to say yes, 'coz you feel sorry for me.’’

And yes, Y/N did feel a bit sorry for the blubbering boy sitting in front of their adjacent doors. She couldn’t imagine anything worse than being locked out of her own flat and left out in the cold in London with nowhere else to go—it was a frustrating inconvenience to say the least. Plus, Y/N was always a bit of a generous soul, never really able to say no to people, always biting her tongue when she felt awkward, and with a few pints combined, she was feeling especially generous.

‘’Honestly, no bother.’’ she replied, unlocking her door. ‘’I’ll probably be awake for the next few hours anyway, so companies are good.’’ An absolute lie on Y/N’s part. Any drink would usually send Y/N into a tired haze, and she couldn’t think of anything better than sticking on her pyjamas and curling up in bed, but it’d have to be put on hold for the night.

Following her up the stairs and into her living area, Harry let his eyes analyse the room. Fairy lights adorned nearly every wall, blankets crowded on the sofa, a few plants dotted around the room, and an endless amount of cookbooks—while Harry didn’t know too much about Y/N, he could still recognise that her little flat was an exact replica of her as a person.

‘’Nice place,’’ he said, placing his backpack down on the wooden floor.

‘’Cheers,’’ she smiled, ‘’similar to yours?’’

‘’Similar size, but mines full of cardboard boxes at the moment,’’ he laughed, ‘’yours has a lot more life to it.’’

‘’Took a good few IKEA trips to get it this perfect, I won’t lie.’’ Since walking in, Y/N had dropped her bag by the door, walking into the kitchen space to find some snacks or atleast a drink to give to her unexpected guest.

‘’You want a cider?’’ she asked, rummaging through the fridge to find a can of Strawberry Old Mout that she had left over from the last time she had a guest in her flat. She couldn’t help but feel a bit nervous as she looked around the brightly lit fridge - it felt weird having Harry in her flat. Different somehow, more intimate than their casual chats down in the cafe or over text. But especially after her little moment of weakness the other day and the fact that he more than likely had a girlfriend, she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on being the good host she was.

"You know what- I’ll take one," he replied,thinking nothing sounded better than a cold cider after his shambles of an evening. ‘’Only if you’re drinking too - don’t wanna start getting leathered on my own,’’

‘’As if you’d get leathered off of one cider,’’ Y/N laughed, passing him a can and cracking open her own, ‘’Plus I’m 5 ciders deep already so think it’ll be me getting leathered, not you.’’

Harry shared a laugh with her, holding his hands up in defeat, ‘’Alright, you piss head. You just been necking ciders on London streets then or what?’’

‘’Oh shut up,’’ if she had been closer to him, Y/N probably would of swatted him on the arm for the absolute nonsense that left his mouth but the kitchen counter separated the two, so she kept her arms to her side, ‘’I was just out in the pub.’’

‘’So that’s what the mysterious Y/N gets up to when she’s not running a cafe,’’ he said, raising his eyebrows as if he’d uncovered some maddening truth about her.

‘’Mysterious?’’ she snorted back regrettably but she couldn’t help it and plus after a few drinks, her snorted laugh always seemed to appear.

‘’Well ye-yeah, mysterious.’’ he paused, taking another big gulp of his drink and Y/N wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d managed to finish it by now. ‘’Haven’t heard from you in a few days and then you come swanning in after a few pints, I’d say that’s pretty mysterious.’’

‘’God, you talk some shit,’’ she said, laughing at his use of words.

‘’S’true though, haven’t heard from you.’’

‘’I haven’t heard from you either?’’

‘’You liar! I texted you the other night and got no reply,’’ Harry said, clutching at his heart in a playful manner, ‘’really hurt my feelings.’’

‘’You’re such a windup,’’ she grinned, ‘’Didn’t take you as the type to be hung up over no replies,’’

‘’Broke my heart really. I was waiting for you to reply and say you had a cake and a chat waiting for me but got nothing.’

So maybe Y/N hadn’t taken his hints wrongly.

‘’And then my sister turned up and I couldn’t even come round and pester you for a slice of lemon cake,’’ he continued, ‘’my plan went out the window,’’ His sister! Y/N mentally scolded herself in her head for being so silly that night and thinking the worst.

‘’Your plan?’’ she challenged.

‘’Yeah, my plan to butter you up and then steal every last slice of cake you had going for you.’’ he joked.

What an idiot, Y/N thought. But a funny idiot, nonetheless. ‘Ah, well, you should have told me your sister was round and I would have been more than happy to share something with her - sure, she would have been better company than you anyways,’’ she joked, in return. She couldn’t tell if it was the ciders making her head feel dizzy or nonchalant playfulness, but she felt giddy and confident.

‘’No one likes a liar, Y/N.’’ he beamed, ‘’We both know that’s a massive lie.’’

‘’Hmm maybe.’’

‘’So, pub, did you say?’’ he questioned, ‘’W-was it a date or?’’

‘’Think I go to the pub on a first date?’’ she said, raising her brow in amusement.

‘’Nothing wrong with a pint and a bag of crisps for the first date.’’ he defended.

‘’It’s that where you take all your unlucky ladies then?’’

‘’Ha! Unlucky. It’d be the luckiest night of their lives,’’

‘’Oh I bet,’’ Y/N laughed, ‘’But no, just a few drinks with some of my friends. Nothing mad.’’

‘’Very cool.’’ Harry grinned.

‘’Shut-up,’’ Y/N grinned back in return.

The two fell into a silence, each other not really knowing what to say. Y/N could feel the lull of the alcohol weaning off and she knew she’d be drifting off if she stayed up any longer. She didn’t want to come across rude, enjoying his company but her bed was calling her name and she needed to call it a night knowing she had to be up in the morning to sort out admin for the cafe.

‘’I think I might head to bed, I’m feeling knackered.’’ Y/N sighed.

‘’Leaving me all alone, one cider deep?’’ Harry laughed.

‘’Sorry but I don’t think I can keep my eyes open for any longer,’’ A giggle uttering from her lips, ‘’You’re more than welcome to stay on the sofa thought until you get your keys sorted and all.’’

‘’You’re a star, Y/N.’’ Harry smiled in return as he made his way to the couch to make himself comfortable for the night. He couldn’t have been more grateful for her in the moment, thinking back to not so long ago when he was out in the cold, locked outside of his flat. Course, they’d made familiar with each other the past few weeks but he couldn’t get over the kindness of the girl - or pity that she had for him - but either way he was thankful nonetheless.

‘’There’s a few blankets on the side and some cushions so it shouldn’t be too uncomfortable,’’ Y/N paused, walking over the basket of random throws and cushions she had by the corner of her living room, signalling him to choose his pickings. ‘’Right, I’ll see you in the morning. Night Harry.’’

‘’Night, Y/N. Thanks again.’’ And that was the last thing he saw, her gleaming smile, cheeks red from alcohol as she walked down the hall to the last room that he knew now was her bedroom and headed to bed.

Y/N woke up with a pounding headache the next morning followed by a dry mouth and a queasy stomach. She hadn’t even drank much but in her defense she rarely ever did so any alcoholic beverage would always send her sideways the next day. Blinking against the harsh sunlight streaming through her window, she groaned, regretting the cheap ciders of the previous night. Her memory was a bit hazy, blurred by the fog of alcohol but she did remember one thing. There was a Harry on her sofa.

Dragging herself out of bed, she quickly sorted herself out, combing through her hair and fixing her pyjamas, not wanting to look an absolute state in front of the boy. She stumbled to the kitchen, head throbbing with every step, desperate for a glass of water. But as she walked into her living space, he was nowhere to be found. Surely she hadn’t been so drunk she had imagined the whole night.

She could remember everything from the loud music of the pub, the dancing and laughs she shared with her friends. And she most definitely remembered the blue eyed boy that was sat outside her front door, locked out from his home.

She did a quick check of her phone to see if she had any texts from Harry but the only notifications were a few Instagram tags from her mates and a text from her mum asking what she thought of the banana loaf she had made. Nothing from Harry.

Walking around the kitchen to grab a glass for her water, she noticed out of the corner of her eye the little notepad she had on her kitchen counter was opened, a few words scribbled on it and a black biro pen next to it.

On the note read ‘Thank you for letting me stay last night, you’re an angel. I had to leave early this morning to meet the landlord for a spare key but I really do owe you. Let me know when you’re free, I’m thinking of dinner on me? Thank you again, Harry x’

With a little smile on her lips as he fingers traced over his messy handwriting, she felt a sigh of relief. Dinner on him, it was and she couldn’t wait.

a/n: thank you for reading. sorry for the wait!!! there defo won't be a long wait for part three. this is such a slow burn but promise it gets more cutesy in part three <333

#w2s #wroetoshaw #w2s x reader #harry wroetoshaw #harry lewis #harry w2s #sidemen #w2s fic #w2s imagine #wroetoshaw imagine #wroetoshaw oneshot #hollytoshaw #chris md #arthurtv #sidemen x reader

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alwaysshallow · 23 hours

Text

single mom x price; PART 4

you try to stay away from john. and, surprisingly so, it turns out that it's not an easy job.

AO3 VERSION

part 1 || part 2 || part 3

You know that you usually keep your promises.

When Janice had to leave for a week and asked you to water her flowers religiously three times a day, you didn’t skip any watering. You stood there, cursed multiple times under your breath with a more or less excited kid on your hip, but you did it. Even if your son was a pain in the ass and tried to destroy every little plant that Janice had because watering three times a day was stupid for him.

When Cassie’s mom came to you, telling you she’s pregnant, scared of having kids in her forties, you were the one that drove her to the abortion clinic and promised not to tell anyone. Because she was terrified of doing this alone, not to mention asking someone else.

Information like this in a small town spreads like weeds in the garden, no matter how hard you try, and you knew it too well. So, as her best pick, you tried to take it like a hero.

And you didn’t even flinch when you heard that they thought you were the one that got rid of the baby, not her. You just stared blankly, acting as calm as ever, even if their stares were too much to bear when you shopped, talked with others. Easy enough, they watched you like hawks.

Eventually, it all calmed down, like the weather after the storm. Everyone started living their own lives again, got invested into another drama, forgetting the situation with abortion clinic. And, Cassie’s mom was eternally grateful for that. Probably still is.

You’re known for keeping your promises and getting the job done, so you really can’t be surprised when the neighbors choose you to be responsible for this year’s neighbors BBQ, something that this town is obsessed with, when it gets warmer. Can’t really blame them, as the town is dead during the winter months.

What is surprising in this situation is the fact that you have to break a promise—but the promise that you made to yourself.

Just because you’re in a committee with John Price. John Price that you wanted to desperately avoid for some time, but right now, he’s looking down at you with a smile, patting your back with encouragement.

“We’re gonna have so much fun with this,” he murmurs, right to your ear. It’s nothing naughty, but it’s enough to make your whole body feel hot, like your body is full of lava. He knows you can’t say no to organizing this BBQ, and if you would, he’d find a way to get you back on board.

And, he for sure noticed that you spoke to him less lately. As you learned, he’s not really a fan of that behavior, so when you go home, you have only one thought in your mind: you’re terrible at keeping distance from John Price. It’s either a terrible coincidence, or he has the help of God to make you run into him every time.

Ironically, the second option sounds more real than the first one, even if it should be the other way.

Planning with him feels easy, though. He’s quick to make a whole concept of the party with you, where exactly the BBQ needs to take place, what can be brought so it will be better than the years before. He’s ambitious enough that he makes small jabs towards the neighbors that hosted years before, saying something about not having a sense of style and stuff that shouldn’t make you laugh, but they do.

When it comes to the practical stuff of the job, it’s a bit different; John doesn’t let you touch anything or lift something by yourself, god forbid you try to say that you’re going to help him with moving things. The irritation because of it is enough for you to try to confront him, but he just shushes you. He says something about having “the boys” for that, and you’re not invited to the physical part of the job.

However, you asking him for help? He seems to love the fact that you need him.

When you are trying out the recipes, he’s magically around you. Appears in the most random moments, just to annoy you a little, whisper some encouraging words, like “you got it, love”. He’s more than eager to try out the food, always licking the spoon clean with such focus, like it was a military job, not his neighbor asking him for his opinion on BBQ food. Not only it makes you satisfied, but flustered as well.

Whatever you want to say to him about it, you forget it right away. You’re far too gone in his praises, slight suggestions, and so much more that has you wondering if this man is just nice, or he really means it. Because you truly believe that he does; no one could fake the glimmer in their eyes, lips twitching in a playful manner and this damn look of approval, when you do the right thing. When you think about it, you could easily get used to it if it would mean he’d be around more.

Hell, you never liked cooking that much. It was mostly something to do, so you won’t starve. With John? With John it feels like you want him to admire your food, so you try as thrice as you did in the past.

What is also satisfying in this whole “planning” thing, you’re the commander if it comes down to decorations—you tell him if something needs to go to the left side, if it’s in the right place, or maybe it doesn’t fit the vibe at all. It's good fun for you, a lot of bickering with John, a lot of him actually respecting what you have to say. Sheer contrast to the contact that you normally had with other men, and the dad of your son. Constant problems, give me this, give me that, nothing really came from them. And if it did, you had to ask for it.

And John? John is just the epitome of a perfect man. The kind one that you like seeing on the street because he’s helpful and considerate. Always willing to help you, no matter what the hour is, or what the problem is, like—

Like a real husband, you think, trying to push that thought away the second you see that you’re losing yourself a little too much in it. Just because someone is nice to you, it doesn’t mean that they have a romantic interest in you.

John isn’t helpful with making your thoughts go away; he’s so close to you, like he doesn’t know the meaning of personal space. At some point, you think that he has to do this on purpose. It’s not possible that he’s like this with everyone—so touchy, manhandling every time someone stands in his way, whispering little “I need you to move,” before moving the person somewhere else. It’s unnecessary, you would move if he’d only ask you to do it, but…

But you’d lie if you’d say that you do not like this. Because you do, with all of your heart, even if normally you’d be irritated by behavior like this. But, this is John Price that you talk about. He’s so delicate in this, joking around so much that you don’t even pay attention to the amount of times that he does that.

The closeness doesn’t bother you; not until you realize that a bunch of people are observing you with sharp precision; they’re talking about something too, but it’s clear for you that they are watching the two of you. It’s even more obvious when they gasp right in the moment when John kisses you in the temple, squeezing your hip, silently thanking you for the help. Like you were doing it out of simple kindness, not because you two are responsible for it anyway.

“I’m gonna go,” you murmur under your breath, almost jogging to your house, just so no one will notice the flustered look on your face.

You’re not free of John here either; after an hour, he asks you over the text if you have a minute because he has a sudden epiphany. So, like a good neighbor you are, you stay on the phone with him for another hour, when he tells you how a “kids friendly” zone is needed. Because some parents don’t have a nanny or anyone to leave their kid with; and it seems reasonable.

He makes a monologue about inflatable castles, houses, everything that excites kids.

“I already have a guy to buy it from. I just need your word,” he says. You can almost hear how he smiles on the other side from his tone. “So, what do you say?”

So, even if it seems a bit fancy for your town, you agree, thinking it would be his way of saying a proper “hello” to the neighbors. You even regret that your kid is currently at his grandma's place, as you dropped him a few days before the preparations, because he’d love this idea. More than anything.

Yet, you bet that with John being here, in your neighborhood, he’ll have multiple occasions to do fun things.

The day you have to host BBQ, Price is here for you from the early morning. Making final touches, speaking like a motivational coach because he sees how big of a mess you are; he even helps you to do your hair before you two go outside and start everything properly.

You’re the equivalent of a stress ball, when he’s literally the calmest person alive in the same moment. Water to your fire, easing your nerves in the moments that you’d consider as trivial, extinguishing the heat when you need it. Making you actually feel seen with your feelings, with how he acknowledges them and treats you the best he can in the moment. You feel less dumb for being so nervous, and automatically you feel better as well.

Hours feel like minutes by his side. You greet your neighbors, make small talks about food or their families, asking how they are; you can easily leave any negative thoughts behind you, without caring about your emotions before the BBQ. All you care about is right now, and how John is literally around you at every moment possible—because this man does not leave your side, even if you’re talking with someone that he doesn’t know personally.

“Oh, she’s responsible for all of it,” he says, grinning like a devil, when you talk with the Smiths about the preparations. It’s so easy for him to sneak an arm around you, and you can’t even find in yourself the want to push him away. “I was just Santa’s little helper, ‘s all.”

“Stop that.” You laugh, shaking your head. “He was very helpful, actually. I wouldn’t know what to do without his help.”

“Only on her command.” John shrugs, looking down at you. For some reason, you feel your stomach tightening on the size difference that you two have. “Without her, it probably would look like a brothel. Maybe worse, so she is the real brain of the operation.”

He’s like that all night. Praising you, even if he’s not directly speaking next to you; him pointing a finger in your direction, sending a wink, it all makes you feel like you suddenly have your wings again. Like you can actually do anything with him by your side. He charges your batteries, and you’re thankful for that.

What also charges your batteries is alcohol—normally you wouldn’t be a drinker because of your son, but when you know he’s in your mother’s house, it’s a different situation. Drink goes after a drink when you have lots of food, shots come down your throat way easier with your favorite neighbors. It’s easy to lose yourself in the atmosphere of freedom, when you haven’t had that in a while, too busy, too focused on your son.

Just like you thought, you have your wings again.

You don’t even feel like you’ve gone too far. Not when John accompanies you in the experience, asking if you need another beer, so casually, nudging you with his elbow. Taunting, like he wants to say that you won’t do it anyway. Maybe you wouldn’t, if you weren’t so drunk, but now, when there’s not a single coherent thought in your mind…

Things start to get fuzzy after that beer. You don’t even know when you put the alcohol away in order to dance with Price; you don’t know when his casual touches become something entirely different. It feels like he’s trying to help you, support you, as your legs start to feel more wobbly, but when his hand lands lower, fingers play with the material of your dress—a dress that right now seems like something you’d rather get rid of in the heat of the moment—you feel that something else is in the air.

The “don’t do anything stupid” side is flooded by waves of excitement, by the thought that you feel like you deserve a bit of fun after so many times you told yourself “no”. Maybe that’s why you agree to him walking you to your house, maybe that’s why you invite him over for a little “drink”, to end the success of the neighborhood BBQ that you two “hosted”.

Even if you have enough drinks for a few months, if you’re being honest with yourself.

You really had everything innocent in mind about this. You even came up with the speech about how late it is in your head, but the brakes fail you just in the moment when you stand right in front of him. It’s all happening in slow motion, like a catastrophe that was supposed to happen and everyone knew it from the beginning—but that catastrophe is you kissing him.

He doesn’t say anything, at first. The potential consequences of your actions dawn at you, making you sober up almost immediately, when you see his face. Darkening with every second, making you doubt what you did. Because if it was good, why is he like this?

“I’m so—”

“—Don’t even try.”

And that’s all what he says before kissing you. Kissing you so deep that you forget to breathe for a second, and you just stand still, letting him pick you up like a doll and go upstairs because what can you do about this?

He doesn’t let you do anything by yourself. His lips are everywhere, just like his hands, when he finds the bedroom—you’re already out of your dress and lingerie, but he is fully dressed. You almost want to complain, have a protest that it’s not right, as you waited maybe even more than him for this exact moment, but any word that wants to come out from your mouth is gone when he sinks his finger into you.

It’s slow, at first. Deliberate, making you feel like he’s trying to know you before he does anything more, before he loses himself in you—because that, oh, that happens fast. Faster than you’d thought it would take, but you do not mind that; not in the moment when his two fingers pump into you, while his thumb is taking care of your clit.

The moment his tongue replaces his thumb though, this is the moment when you see stars and all the restraints you had, completely break under the influence of his movement. He knows what he does, how to make you scream, and how to make you beg—because that’s what you want to do, when he suddenly stops.

"John—”

He chuckles, amused. His eyes are glimmering, when he meets yours. "Patience, honey. Patience."

And when you finally come with his name on your lips, you know you have it.

He gives you maybe a fifteen second break—it’s enough for him to strip out of his clothes and pounce at you again; it makes you realize that is the main course you needed from him.

It’s far from casual sex, far from the scenario that you’ve created in your mind. It’s something deeper, as he intertwines fingers with you, insisting that’s the only way you’re gonna do it; and he doesn’t want to hear anything about it. Before you can ask any question, he shushes you with a heated kiss, his hips moving, but at a much slower pace than you expected, like he’s trying to devour the moment. Enjoy it until it lasts, maybe show you something so you’ll miss him in the future.

It’s almost like he wants to prove something here and you let him do it. Because for the first time, it’s nice having someone to take the initiative. Lead you, lure you into the mindset that you need him for that piece of heaven he’s busy to give you. Fixated on that, you plant bloody crescents on his back, not caring about the outcome.

It’s just you and him, at this point. You and him, no one else really matters.

Afterwards, you pay no attention to the fact that he insists on staying. He, in fact, doesn’t say anything; he just states a fact when he puts his big arm around you, squeezing you tight and you just know he won’t leave. You think it’s only right—he’s drunk, after all. It wouldn’t be very neighborly to you to ask him to leave in that state, even if he lives right across the street. And, it wouldn’t be very neighborly to ask him that, considering that he fucked the shit out of you.

Because he'll probably leave in the morning anyway. Everyone leaves before the sunlight, it’s just the way the world is. It was nothing… serious, right?

But, he doesn’t. Oh, of course he doesn’t.

He brings you coffee in the morning, right to your bed, sandwiches on the plate. You can’t quite put it when he had the time to make it, or when he got up—because you’d normally sense someone walking around your house, you’re used to being on high alert. Yet, there is John Price, smiling from ear to ear.

“Your mother called,” John says, which causes your heart to drop immediately. “Said that she’ll drop your son later.”

“...and what did you say?”

“That I’ll tell you this, as soon as you’ll wake up,” he informs you, kissing the top of your head. Like it’s nothing, he sits next to you, pulling out his phone and typing something; as you peek, you can see the news website popping up.

Great. Now even your mother knows about him. It’s not like he is that important right now, but you know your mom a little too well, so it’s easy for you to assume that she’ll make a big thing about him and you’ll have to tell her something to blow her off. And, for now, you’re out of ideas of what exactly you should tell her.

Something other than “it was just casual sex because he’s my hot neighbor”, something other than “I actually don’t know him that well”. Words are spinning in your head; a massive hangover doesn’t help to form anything, so you just nod in acknowledgement, watching him for a moment, bewildered. He acts like he owns this bed, and doesn’t even think of leaving. It’s a potential threat, when you think about it.

You’re not even surprised when you see text from your mother on your phone.

You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.

You decide it’s best not to reply to that, so you just grab the cup of coffee that John made you.

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flowerandblood · 7 hours

Text

Refinement (Oneshot)

[ canon • Aemond x little sister • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, oral sex, smut, angst, sexual tension, obsession, mention of arranged engagement ]

[ description: During her Name Day, his younger sister wants to run away to the city. Things don't go according to plan, however, and he, as her older brother, wants to comfort her. Anon request. ]

Part 3 of the Appearances, can be read as standalone story.

My other works: Masterlist

_____

To his delight, the months before their nuptials he and his younger sister spent in each other's constant company, growing closer to each other. At first she would shyly visit the places he usually frequented, the library or the courtyard, and he was content to interrupt his own affairs by having at least a short conversation with her.

Although he resented discussions about nothing, usually tired of them, with her he could have a light conversation all the time − her questions and answers were always thoughtful and balanced, sometimes filled with a sweet naivety or curiosity from which he felt the heat in his lower abdomen.

"Today is my Name Day, lēkia (big brother)." She cooed sweetly, grasping his fingers in hers − his hand against hers seemed rough and large to him, hers, on the other hand, smooth and delicate as silk.

He murmured under his breath, looking at their intertwined fingers thinking back to the evening the day before, when he had guided her hand under the material of his breeches again, as usual demanding relief, which he then reciprocated with his characteristic devotion.

He wanted her to be convinced that he would make a good husband.

"I know, dōna hāedar (sweet little sister)." He replied calmly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, thinking of the gift he had prepared for her, a beautiful necklace created especially at his command. A girlish, happy smile appeared on her face, a kind of excitement and anticipation emanating from her that intrigued him.

Something was going through her mind.

"There's one thing I've been dreaming about." She whispered, and he leaned back, stretching comfortably in his chair; they sat together under a beautiful, ancient arbour surrounded by a garden, opposite them only the view of the sea, spreading low beneath the walls of the keep, the sound of wind and leaves all around them.

"What is it?" He asked lowly, fiddling with the small ring on her finger which he had given her just after their father had officially confirmed their betrothal.

A symbol that she was meant only for him, the sapphire eye surrounded by a frame of intertwined golden stems and leaves shone brightly in the sunlight.

He heard her twist in her seat, delighted apparently that he had asked the question. She grunted quietly.

"I wish to escape to the town tonight." She said lightly. He looked at her with a smirk full of amusement and indulgence, convinced that she was teasing him.

"On the dragon?" He asked mockingly and pressed his lips into a thin line, swallowing hard when he felt her take her hand from his grasp, her gaze clouded, her brow arched in pain of humiliation and disbelief.

She stood up from her seat and, shocked, he watched her silhouette disappear between the tall shrubs with his lips slightly parted, wondering what had happened. He moved behind her immediately, sighing impatiently − as he got closer he grabbed her arm and forced her to stop. She looked him straight in the eye, tears of rage in her eyes.

"− forgive me, I didn't wish to −"

"You can leave the keep whenever you desire. You can fly on Vhagar whenever you desire. But I can't. I am a prisoner of these walls, our mother does not allow me to travel anywhere. Is that what amuses you so much? Is that what you mock?" She asked in a shaky, embittered voice, wiping the tears from her red cheeks with her free hand, her lower lip quivering with nerves.

He touched his fingers to her cheek, but she rejected his hand, making him put more strength into pulling her close − she hissed in discomfort when his fingers tightened on her waist covered only by the thin material of her soft gown.

"I would never mock you, sister. However, you know it is not a matter of our mother's bad will, but of your safety." He replied slowly, trying to say each word with reason so as to explain to her that he did not intend to offend her.

He understood what she desired, but he would have gone mad at the thought of her leaving the keep only in the company of the guards.

"What danger would I be in if my betrothed accompanied me?" She muttered with a bitterness from which he felt his throat squeeze, only now understanding what she was trying to convey to him.

She wasn't complaining to him.

He swallowed loudly and hummed under his breath.

"Is this what my future wife desires?" He asked quietly. She looked at him with a pained expression and nodded, looking into his eyes with hope.

Having no other choice, albeit reluctantly, he agreed.

They made arrangements to meet at one of the side passages that were rarely patrolled by guards − both of them sneaked down the narrow stone steps clad in grey robes and cloaks under the cover of darkness, the sky above them cloudless and full of stars.

"You are to stay close to me. Understood?" He asked warningly, and she nodded quickly, looking up at him happily, her plump cheeks red with excitement and joy.

He murmured low, delighted when her warm, soft lips clung to his in a tender, sticky kiss − he locked her in the strong embrace of his arms, cupping one of her cheeks in his palm, her fingers stroking his neck and jaw making his manhood throb hard in his breeches. He pulled away from her and sighed heavily, tense.

"Let's go."

It seemed to him that as they stepped out into the main courtyard of the town, lit only by torches and bonfires kindled by night merchants and bards, she was intrigued by everything that was happening around her − his fingers entwined with hers as they walked arm in arm around the crowds of shouting, noisy people. She looked up at him with a wide smile and hugged her cheek to his shoulder when she noticed his anxious, grave face.

"− I am grateful to you for your dedication, my love −" She said softly and he sighed heavily, kissing the top of her head.

He wanted to return to the keep as quickly as possible, fearing for her safety, but she insisted that they move towards the various stalls, watching intently as the men roasted meat over large fires, which they then sold. They stopped hearing a theatrical play from a distance, men dressed as women pretending to be his mother and their stepsister, Rhaenyra.

"You will not take the crown! My son the drunkard will sit on the Iron Throne!" Thundered one of the men in a too-tight green gown, his voice pretending to be high and feminine − a third actor appeared on stage, a blond-haired young man who was apparently supposed to be Aegon.

When the man began to pretend to vomit while clutching their mother's breasts, loud, mocking laughter echoed all around them. He saw that his sister looked away, her lips pressed together, her eyebrows arched in confusion and embarrassment.

"Let's go." He said lowly, regretting that she had seen this, but believing on the other hand that even if he had wanted to, he could not keep her unconscious forever.

The kingdom had no love for them, and their safety was apparent.

"I regret asking you to do this. Forgive me." She muttered as he escorted her to her chamber, the joy and contentment gone from her face, replaced by sadness and disappointment. He lifted her chin with his finger for her to look at him, recognising that he should better prepare her for what awaited them.

"The kingdom is divided. The only thing that unites our family now is the person of the King. Nothing else." He said lowly, and she blinked, thinking about his words, swallowing hard after a moment.

"And our blood? Our heritage?" She asked uncertainly, and he involuntarily snorted at her words, shaking his head.

"If our sister had our heritage, dignity and the future of our lineage in mind, she would not have made her bastard son her heir to the throne." He hissed coldly, looking her straight in the eye − he knew something had changed in his face, from which she twitched all over, in her expression something he recognised well.

She was afraid of him.

"− sister −" He whispered softly, stroking her soft cheek with his thumb, wanting her to understand that although filled with anger, he would never harm her.

"Against good customs, will you stay by my side? Will you let me fall asleep in your arms?" She asked quietly, and he swallowed loudly, feeling his manhood momentarily swell and pulse in his breeches, betraying an overwhelming desire to comply with her request.

He hesitated, wondering what their mother would say, but seeing her pleading gaze and her need for closeness, he decided that he could not deny her his presence when she articulated that she needed him.

He was to be her husband and she was to be his wife.

His place was with her, always.

That was why he agreed and followed her into her quarters, looking around beforehand to make sure no one would disturb them. They both pulled off their cloaks − his sister turned her back to him, startling him completely when she untied her breeches and the simple grey tunic he had brought her earlier, staying only in her snow-white nightgown.

He looked away, embarrassed, feeling his heart pounding like mad, not knowing what to do with himself.

He had never seen her in such a negligee before, and although his whole body screamed to look at her and admire her beauty, he wasn't sure it was appropriate and worthy of her honour before their nuptials.

"Come, brother." He heard her soft, warm voice once she had laid down on the bed, extending her hand to him.

He moved towards her, pulling his boots off his feet, laying down beside her with his heart in his throat, involuntarily noticing the outline of her sweet breasts under the thin, translucent material of her shirt.

He sighed quietly as her whole body snuggled into him instantly, seeking protection and comfort − unwittingly his arms locked around her waist, his hands sinking into her hair and buttocks, his lips placing a warm, lazy kiss on the top of her head.

It was her Name Day, and she was distressed and frightened, to which he had unwittingly contributed.

He swallowed hard at the thought, feeling involuntarily guilty, not knowing what he could do to comfort her, to turn her thoughts again from what the future might have brought.

He, her husband, was supposed to protect her and their future children − it was his role to worry about what fate would bring, not hers.

He shuddered when he heard her quiet voice, combing through her soft dark hair with the tips of his fingers.

"If I am to become your wife, why do you treat me like a little child?" She asked regretfully, and he felt his hand stop in mid-motion, the air stuck in his lungs.

"I do not follow." He replied lowly, feeling discomfort in his chest hearing her words.

She raised herself up on her elbow, looking up at his face − her eyebrows were arched in sadness and uncertainty, her full, shiny lips clenched into a thin line. He dared to touch his thumb to her cheek, wanting to soften whatever was about to leave her mouth.

"If war is coming, you may need me and Saraxes. Just because bloodshed is not my desire does not mean I am blind. Do you think I'm not a true dragon because I don't have your white hair and violet eyes?" She asked in a trembling voice with a reproach and pain from which he felt a squeeze in his throat.

The thought that she had felt rejected and left out by everyone all this time like himself made him quickly lift himself up on his arm, pressing his nose against her soft face, her hot, trembling breath enveloping his face.

"No. No, my love. You must understand that it is my weakness towards you, it is my fear that makes me wish not to endanger you." He muttered, horrified at how she perceived the whole affair and his actions, that he, gods take pity, thought her foolish or incapable of understanding such complicated, male matters.

She read the same books as he did, spoke to him as an equal on subjects from which he would never have expected a woman to have extensive rhetoric, not because he thought them incapable of it, but because they rarely delved into it.

Yet here she was, well aware of the importance he attached to sword-fighting, knowing as much about his history of the various weapons, their parts and how they were used as she knew about poetry or philosophy.

She swallowed quietly, her eyes shining in trust, in hope, as his mouth brushed hers encouragingly, her lips parted invitingly, allowing his tongue to slide deep into her throat.

She moaned sweetly, innocently as the tips of their tongues licked each other tentatively with a quiet clicks again and again − she sighed as he gently pushed her to lie on her back, trailing his fingers over her soft face, the wonderful scent of her oils filling his entire lungs, her lips fleshy as sweet fruit.

"− brother −" She murmured between their loud, tender kisses, her fingers entwined in his hair, one of her hands removing his eye patch from his face with an impatient, confident motion.

He looked at her, at her pretty face without fear or shame, sure for several moons now that the sight of his scar, his sapphire eye did not frighten her, that she loved him whole.

His sweet, tender, devoted sister.

She pulled him to her by the neck, her lips, impatient that he had pulled away from her for so long demanded another warm caress, his slick tongue ran over her palate making him, though he tried to control himself, completely hard.

"− take me −" She whispered and he felt the air stuck in his throat − he broke the kiss, looking at her with eye wide open in shock, panting heavily, her cheeks flushed with shame, her gaze pleading, full of desire. "− please −"

"− I − gods, you know, you know how much I crave you − but we can't, not before our nuptials −" He muttered wearily, once again seeing on her face that cruel expression of embittered disappointment that was breaking his heart.

He suddenly remembered what Aegon had once told him about, how a man's tongue was capable of giving a woman wonderful pleasure, and though he was ashamed to ask him for details, he decided in an act of desperation that perhaps it would help.

His gift to her, proof of how much he cherished her.

"− let me do something else − do you trust me? −" He asked in a trembling voice − something in her gaze changed and she nodded quickly, her fingertips ran over his cheek in a gesture so tender he felt his throat clench with emotion.

She was perfect.

"− spread your thighs − do not fret −" He added quickly, seeing that her whole body had gone breathless and tensed at his words, uncertainty in her eyes. He heard her swallow hard as she obediently followed his command, she drew in a loud breath as his hands lifted the material of her nightgown higher, above her hips.

"− ah −" She mumbled, in some subconscious, innocent gesture trying to cover herself back up, horrified that he wanted to expose the most intimate part of her body − his hands stopped her, his gaze fixed on her face flushed with emotion.

"− let me, my sweetest − let me take care of you − I won't hurt you −" He whispered, and she pulled her hand back, placing it beside her face, her puffy lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath.

She trusted him.

She trusted that, as her future husband, he knew perfectly well what she needed.

He let out a loud breath through his mouth, trying to hide his own nervousness, his trembling hands gently exposing her swollen, leaking womanhood that he had caressed so often with his fingers.

He involuntarily licked his lips at the thought that her folds looked like the flesh of a fruit and indeed when he ran his thumb over them, they were as usual wonderfully moist and warm to the touch.

Her body arched backwards as he began to gently tease her puffy bud with circular, slow motions of his thumb, in some subconscious involuntary reflex her thighs spread wider in front of him, making his aching cock pulse hard in his breeches.

Gods, how much he wanted to take her now, to sink deep inside her, to feel how tight she was.

"− close your eyes −" He commanded, knowing that if she looked at him he would never do what he wanted out of shame − he heard her swallow loudly before closing her eyelids a moment later, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

She trembled when she felt him lean in, his warm breath enveloping her now swollen folds, glistening in the starlight from her own wetness − something about the sight, the smell of her made him run the tip of his tongue over her slit, her hands clenched in his hair, her body arched back, wanting to escape, a loud, surprised moan escaped her lips.

"− g-gods − brother − what are you −" She whimpered and cried out as the fingers of his free hand tightened warningly on her plushy hip, pushing her back to him, his thumb squeezed and rubbed her pearl making her squirm before him in pleasure and disbelief.

"− be quiet −" He ordered impatiently, sinking his face into her soft, warm womanhood, his tongue ran over her folds again, invading between them for a try, teasing her swollen bud with his finger.

He sighed loudly as he felt how hard her legs trembled in his embrace, heard her tighten her lips and stifle the moans that wanted to escape her throat, felt his cock twitch hard as her fingers pressed him closer to her bare flesh.

She wanted more.

"− brother −" She mumbled, spreading her thighs wider, wanting to feel him deeper − encouraged, he forced his tongue inside her, invading the very tip of her upper wall and the spot where he usually dug his fingers in, teasing her pearl with strokes of his thumb. He felt her fleshy, hot, tight core begin to throb, the wonderful taste of her moisture spreading across his palate, making him gasp in delight.

He could already understand why Aegon had spoken of it with such enthusiasm.

She tasted wonderful, like the flesh of a ripe fruit, ready to sink in and bite into it.

His sweet sister.

"− mmm −" He gasped out, pushing his tongue all the way into her, feeling her hips begin to respond to his movements with rocking of her hips, reaching out to meet him. He licked and sucked her pearl, rubbing it with the tip of his nose, still pressing it with his thumb, a quiet, lewd sound of slurping and clicking of her wetness all around them.

At last she fell apart, a long, intense fulfilment shook her lovely body, sweet, girlish, innocent whimpers erupted from her lips − she begged him, babbled his name, calling him, pressing his face against her leaking cunt, delighted that he was licking devotedly everything that spilled out of her.

"− my sister's sweet nectar −" He gasped with devotion and delight, again and again rubbing her opening with his rough tongue. His hand slipped down to his breeches, sliding under them, grasping his swollen, aching cock, squeezing it at the base, not stopping his caresses, intending to pet her like this all night and come on his own hand.

"− brother − no more −" She mumbled out, terrified that he wasn't stopping, her over-stimulated, sore insides clenching greedily around nothing, her hands trying to gently push him away but to no avail − he only hummed under his breath, stunned by the warmth of her flesh, her closeness and her scent.

She smelled like sin.

"− I'm afraid I intend to fall asleep tonight with my face between your soft thighs, my love −"

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cloakedsparrow · 3 days

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A 'Jason & Tim Join the Bat Family Early' fic in which Jason and Tim meet six months to a year before Jason would have met Bruce in canon.

Jason spends a lot of time at the Gotham City Library for warmth/air conditioning/safety, education and entertainment. Tim spends a lot of time there too, doing homework and reading for fun/education since he prefers it to his usually empty house. They meet when Jason helps Tim reach a book that's too high for him and ends up commenting on it. They start by just reading in the same space and talking while Jason waits with Tim at the bus stop. Eventually, they start hanging out outside the library, fist chatting on the steps and eventually getting pizza or burgers (Jason isn't to proud to accept food when Tim offers to pay) moving to the nearest park where they can talk about what they're reading.

Tim realizes that Jason is homeless but at first doesn't say anything because he doesn't want to upset or offend his new friend. When Thanksgiving Break approaches, he broaches the subject to suggest Jason come stay with him during it, since his parents won't be home. Jason trust Tim by then, and he really likes the idea of having unlimited access to a shower/bed/food/heating, so he accepts. They get along well enough, and the Drakes are gone often enough, that they decide to basically move Jason in. The maids only come a couple times a week, gardeners once a week, and the grocery delivery every other week, and none of them are allowed in Tim's room, so it's easy enough for Jason to either hide form them, be at the library when they come, or pass himself off as a friend visiting Tim.

This goes on for months before Tim decided that, as much as he loves Jason and loves having him there, the older boy deserves to have a real home with a real family. And he knows of the perfect family.

Tim may know a little more about Dick Grayson's schedule than is normal, but it works in his favor that he's able to make sure he and Jason happen to be at a museum exhibit Dick's also attending. They meet and it's nothing huge, but Tim notices the older teen glancing at him and Jason periodically. Later, the same thing happens at the aquarium. And then Little Paris. By then, Dick is basically ready to adopt Jason himself. Of course, Bruce does so instead once he tells him his plans.

(This has the added benefit of bridging the divide between Bruce and Dick at this time)

The Drakes' house is just on the other side of Bristol, which is easily the safest neighborhood in Gotham, so Tim can just ride his bike or skateboard over to hang out with Jason at Wayne Manor. Instead of the library or the Drakes' empty house, the boys start hanging out at Jason's new home.

Now, it's Jason's turn to get Tim (and his negligent parents) on his new family's radar so they'll adopt him, too.

After some training, Dick happily passes the Robin mantle to Jason, who happily shares it with Tim once the younger boy is old enough.

[Bonus: Dick checks around the Todd's old place to see if there's anything left of Jason's parents, since he knows he cherishes everything he has from his own. He gets the box of family records from their old neighbor and learns that Catherine wasn't Jason's biological mother. He and Bruce decide to quietly locate her and make sure she's safe for Jason to meet. They learn about Shelia's crimes, and arrange for her to be arrested, giving Jason the choice to visit her in prison or not. During their search, they learn about Lady Siva having a kid and decide to look into that, which leads to them bringing Cassandra home a couple years early. Jason and Tim are delighted to have a big sister.]

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kel-lance · 2 days

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Sub!Choso x Reader

MDNI——collars leashes whip’s edging stomping humiliation blindfolds restraints gags overstimulation pegging taunting slapping blood play period sex {all mentioned}

Premise: Choso walked in on you and (bonus:) your date (sub!Nanami) and begs for his own collar.

Making it home after another morning shift, you’re stopped in front of your apartment door to punch in the numbers to the automated lock. You push your way in and thank your district manager finally let you have an opening shift. You swear people get dumber as the day goes on and by the end of the night your patience has worn thin.

You’re still a sweetheart though, everyone knows you as being the mediator. The person to come to to see both sides and even additionally your own view of it to let them think over their problems, or options. Either way, you’d always keep things light.

Any form of confrontation or conflict made you want to help fix it right away. But what do you do to help with the anger? Surely there was something else you’d do, like a hobby or something, to release the stress of harboring the most open mind, and basically know how it will go with the way you’d observe them silently.

Not many people would know about your fun pastime, not until choso walked in on you and you date one night.

He surely was still trying to understand what he saw. That wasn’t a dream? Because it would make more sense if it were a dream, he knew for a fact. But it was something he just couldn’t stop thinking about, it had his balls blue.

If he were to think about it he’d swell up immediately, the blood rushing to his cheeks and sadly but quickly creating a mess in his pants, he’d curse how much of a mess you now made of him.

His quiet and caring roommate looked so out of place, but it was their room… “(Y/n)’s a sadist?” Just having him walk in on you was torture on him enough. You two knew each others schedules, and Yuki’s too as she’s the third to share the large studio together. Their brother-sister relationship, and you and her friendship, and you and him just being caught up in her world, living together just made things easier. Really it saved gas.

It wasn’t like walking in on you while you were talking a no clothes shit. Or if you just got in the shower and the glass or mirror hasn’t steamed up yet. This was your best friends brother walking into your room, while you were dressed up in just pleather straps, having recognized that that was his youngest brother’s teacher, blindfolded and on his knees in front of you.

You wonder if he was still going to act weird about it. The best way to relieve yourself was just power play in general. You already knew it all, all possible ways situations can play out, you could tell what people will say, what their next action could be, it was already enough to make you so bored, or go crazy.

It wasn’t like you were feigning your consideration towards others, but it’s the fact when they don’t listen. You tell what the next moves are, by the patterns of things and taking chances on how some days just don’t go as planned. That there will always be an element of surprise just when you thought you got the pattern down.

You can talk and talk and talk, and explain finally what you mean, maybe you talked too much and it confused them… “That’s on them for not paying attention.” The supremacy you secretly held was upsetting. It was just fantasy, something that you had to figure out how to fix, “Maybe they just like to be hurt.” You thought one day, and that’s when it started.

You’ve secretly become a sadist, it just made sense. Trusting you to carry out their most wicked fantasies and you love to help, making the experience fruitful by learning how bodies react to certain things. As they taught you what they liked, you found yourself domineering the sessions, and most of the time they don’t object. (Half of them are gagged up anyway.)

And with all that time, sure you may have thought about it once or twice but knew it’d be rude to be the one to ask if Yuki could third wheel in her own house. “It couldn’t be me to ask, and I shouldn’t anyway.” Even though you two were close, you still held out consideration for them to not ruin the dynamic, but the sight in front of her older brother had stopped him in his tracks. Your small pleather get up was something he couldn’t even dream seeing on you.

Your leg was up in the bed, your date was kneeling, blindfolded and clothed but exposed. His dress shirt unbuttoned at the top with bites and hickies under his collar and his pants still on but his erection bouncing and begging for your touch. His mouth was open and waiting, tongue begging to taste you while you hold his blonde hair back, he silently thanks you for taunting him.

Choso and your eyes met, but you didn’t move. It was kinda hot, no, it was really hot seeing him blush immediately. With how red he got, you were hoping he be brave enough to join.

You weren’t embarrassed, that wouldn’t make sense of your dominating energy in the room. The mouth under you was panting into you, the heat hot on your other mouth, the wetness coming down your legs, you were enjoying the sudden intrusion so much that you pushed Nanami’s face into you. Not breaking eye contact with choso, his deer in the headlights look on his face while you were riding another man’s face just 10 feet away from him, it happened so fast get it took him forever gather himself to leave.

You could only chuckle as you know this was gonna be a weird talk later. Nanami was fucked stupid now. His rigid face was soft and teary. The rise and fall of his chest was so fast, not helping the oxygen going to his head. So drunk for you, mindless and trusting, he wanted it so bad but couldn’t take another whip or edging session. Though your dates were always bliss for him and you just loved your pets so dearly.

————

You were sitting on the couch and he comes up to the doorway. Not looking up, you stay sitting at the couch in the living room. Anytime you’d go into your room again, it was almost like choso was just trying to prove himself wrong with what he saw. He was like a puppy who saw their owner in a mask, got confused and scared, and now is wondering if “that person” is ever going to come back. You were just finally showing him that this was you; Your cool attitude about all this made choso realize you were always like this.

Competitive when the reward is high, loud and domineering in rooms when control is needed, usually calm and quiet like him but he thought, he thought you really were like him.

He wasn’t weak, but he didn’t like to call the shots, he didn’t care to unless it was for his family. But everyone grew up and he was already content, visiting them whenever they could and living with you and your friend, his “sister”, Yuki.

You’ve always wanted him under you like this he was such a boy failure literally clung to his sister at the hip, her being such a flirt to men but her girlfriends find it funny when she beats them up if they ever got mad, like hey they never asked her. To which she’ll make up silly things to taunt the poor fuck who thought they could fight her.

Choso though just always was the coolest. His piercings and new tattoos every other month were just so hot. But you weren’t gonna ruin him. That wasn’t your call, he didn’t know that about you but you could tell he was perfect. Whatever he thought of you is what has been holding him back from a world that was ready for him.

————————————————

“Please,” You let him suck on your fingers as you work and pulled away when he got too greedy. He stopped afraid you’d pull away and be not in the mood anymore. You just reposition yourself opening your legs which he knew to get in his knees.

He’s crying again and thanking you for finally letting him eat. He’s been waiting for so long, it's probably just been a week and since he saw you and his brothers teacher, and then it took him (almost) 48 hours before he was trying to ask you to do that with him. He just couldn’t flirt for the life of him.

His tears make his face so wet and sloppy and his hair is a mess. His make up, you applied it over every time he messed it up, even when you didn’t touch him but he’d always find a way to make a mess. His sobs had his cheeks glowing, crying while you laugh bc it tickles, “That feels so good.”

His cheeks were soaked that he could close his mouth and basically motorboat the inside of your thighs, his lips rubbing on every part of you, side to side, while his cheeks stimulated the side of your innerds, touching you everywhere, enhancing the whole body feeling.

His hands were around your hips to keep you from moving, which, he hopes you’ll punish him for later but he just needed it so bad. The needy whiny man was in front of you, just wanted a taste, and recieved the whole thing. Something tells you this would be the longest he’ll ever holdout for again.

“You’ve been so good Choso,” You lean forward to give him a kiss on his wet cheek. You make sure your hand is dry before lightly fixing his hair, your fingertips sending shocks throughout his starved form. “I wanna see you under me, get on the bed.”

He almost begs for another kiss before listening to you, going to lay in the middle of your bed, head on the pillow, but you look at him bored. You motion for him to sit up, as you cage him in on your knees, straddling the air.

Choso almost bucks his hips forward just to feel your soft skin, just the smallest touch to know he wasn’t dreaming, or better yet he wanted to squeeze his own thighs together to create some kind of contact. His aching erection wanted nothing more than you, but placing a hand on his chest, tracing it down and tickling him, he arches forward at your touch, to which you slap his thigh sharply.

“Hmm? Speak up baby, I can’t hear you.” You cooed. Now we’ve lost him, the man was babbling to himself, almost heaving and hyperventilating at the same time. His pants were long and drug out, and he couldn’t move. Subconsciously fearing you’d bring out the whip, like the one he’s seen on your bed, he freezes to just enjoy his situation a bit longer. “Come on, Choso,” Your fingers pinch his chin to face you. “Use your words.”

You can only look down at him, he’s still crying, he can’t even speak, you don’t let him. Grabbing greedily at his waist, pulling it towards you, lifting his legs and spreading him open was such a treat.

You knew to never have expectations of others bodies but his was better than you could have imagined. The muscle and tattoos on his upper thighs were so hot, you get a good read of his body, the number of tattoos just confirm his masochism.

You notice his face before he started to let loose. You grab at the sides of his throat and squeezed, cutting out his whimpers. It was amazing, those cute noises really ignited your hunger, you were surprisingly becoming satisfied.

You smear at and pick up his cum with your hand, using it to palm at his sensitive parts. He careened into your hand as you kept him hard and even rubbed under to get his balls. He gasps back and starts crying again. “Hey, pay attention.” He almost cums again as he watches you use the rest of his cum from your hand to wipe along your slit, to add to your wetness. You stare into his eyes. “Do you want to go first?” He uses this chance to flip you around. He hastily plunges into you and is so pathetic with his stroke game you laugh at him, he thanks you for letting him cum in you.

You push his face off of you, grabbing him by his messy space buns you spit in his face and smear everything around. He pants and is so pussy drunk he’s only staring at you longingly after you keep a grip on his cheeks, finding a few seconds before he could find and stay focused on your eyes. As he was coming back, you decide to dig your fingers into his arms, enough to draw blood. He pants as it added a bit to his dying orgasm. You grip him and think how was life going to be like after this?

Well that’s exactly what you asked him. He, being shy, and fucked silly was trying to regain the feeling in his face before remembering that this was just the beginning:

Sub!Choso waiting for you to come how everyday after work.

Sub! Choso who usually knocks on your door lightly but with a raging hard on that he really needs you to help him out with.

Sub Choso who stays in the straps and keeps the toys you share in or stimulating him until you come back home.

Sub! Choso melting at your touch and never letting you do anything around the house again.

Sub Chose who wants to have sleepovers and you two had to explain to Yuki that its just you two sleepover.

Sub choso begging for you to touch him after a week bc of the last hasty move he did the other day had you decided to hold off and lock him out of your room.

Completely abandoning him, bringing Nanami and another back to your room in front of him,

teasing him with wearing almost nothing around the house when yuki’s gone, you were going to ruin him,

that was the goal now If he just can’t hold back then you shouldn’t either.

You who pinches Sub!Choso’s sides and nose when he comes off too needy, he cries for you and you honestly don’t know what you got yourself into.

Sub choso who insists on doing everything with you, showering, being in the kitchen with you, and if you do allow him in your room, hell sit on the floor and wait to see if you want to use him.

Sub Chose who really likes to fuck you on your period bc that’s blood magic and he dabbles tf in that

Its basically a love spell, and he doesn’t care. He thinks it's a way to get closer to you without hurting you, not the way you’d claw at his skin or even lightly cut him sometimes just to lick up the wounds.

Sub Choso always lowering himself around you bc he’s used to looking up at you

Sub Choso who gets jealous and asks why isn’t he enough to which you didn’t know his feelings were that deep so you two talk about your other pets, and what rules and other stuff going forward

Sub Choso who decided to act out out one day, knowing that you would be holding off for a bit after how crazy the last session went, he was begging for your attention.

Sometimes you liked to see such a pathetic beautiful man beg for you at the end of a long day, but when you held off, he would become a mess. Not the kind to melt all over the floor, but he'd be more desperate for your touch, eyes always on you, almost like a stalker that you'd almost want to call Nanami back to show him what will happen if he keeps bothering you when you're trying to work.

That day he fucked up, you were on your way out to have some time to yourself. Maybe just sit at a cafe, or at a park, maybe even just find a high hill and watch the sky, but Choso was blocking your path

Sub Choso asking where you were going as it was your day off and you hadn't said anything to him about your plans for the day.

You tell him to be good and to let you have an hour or so to yourself. Hearing this he freaks out a little bit, his fists ball up and his voice was trying to leave his throat. "You're gonna go see him again aren't you? I don't like this game, that you can have as many and use them whenever."

I know you hate waiting Choso but its not like it's your turn and his turn. And by the way I'm not going to see him, but you could always find another mistress.

Sub Choso who refuses the very thought and walks towards you, grabbing at your hands desperately that it hurt, "No!" He turns his head to hide his face and holds onto you, not letting you leave.

You're very quiet, enough for him to finally look back at you and he realizes he cut you with his nails. The grip he had on you created semi purple blotches on your wrists, and you stood there not moving.

Sub Choso realizing what he just did and releasing your hands before falling down to your feet. He kneels as he watches your face, knowing what you do to him unprovoked already had him both excited and frightened, but this time he didn't even know how badly his body wanted you.

As he submits and shudders at what he's done, you make a rain check on that walk and drag him back to your room by his collar.

You had choso kneeling on the floor as you restrained his arms to his back, ignoring his pleads and sorry's. Your pets don't touch you like that. They don't do whatever they want without your approval, Choso knew that and acted accordingly, even if it got annoying sometimes. His dependency was so rich, it was like getting a new puppy.

In this case you were going to need the muzzle. This was no time for bargaining, he will learn what he did was wrong.

"I'm- (y/n), please, I'm sorry I just wanted you so bad I-" You slap him hard, fingers slapping against his cheekbone. He grunts as it stung, and continues his sorry's. "I really didn't mean to!"

You put the damn muzzle on him, having him bite down on the gag inside, you tighten the straps as Sub!Choso looks petrified, though still accepting his punishment.

There was nothing holding you back now, you were pissed. Your hands were your money makers, not to mention if one of /them/ start to overpower you, you could lose the title altogether. Like you were going to let a tantrum denounce you.

You have him strip and kneel again, whipping out his back and silently watching him wince and recoil at each thrash. You wanted his back red, this was just your warning.

Pointing his chin to look up at you, you place your foot down on his crotch and stepped forward. He hisses and throws his head around, his eyes finding your cold ones, pleading again with more than his usual frenzied state.

You draw your foot back and stomp on him this time. Tears formed and flowed, he sat there, still, taking it.

While his eyes were cringing to the horror happening to his privates, you take a fist full of his hair and yank his head forward, trying to make a judgement of what he deserved next.

You take your foot off his poor wood, but granting him no relief as you whipped at his chest and exposed thighs. The noises he made through his gag should have at least been enough to crack a smile out of you, but your wrists were still a little red, and when you get angry you're usually one to give them back what they dished out, and sometimes even more when you're feeling generous.

Easing your heel back onto him, having him hold his breath as he doesn't know if you were to stomp at any moment, torturing him with the anticipation as your head was somewhere else.

You havent tried this one thing, though you thought you would have by now. Stepping off again, you go to your closet and place a big enough leash on the poignant bastard and tugging him towards your bed.

You sit at the edge, bending him over your legs, you place a blindfold on him as well, not letting him know what you were about to do.

You grab the bullet, coating it with your spit before sliding it into his ass. The new sensation had him squirm, sensitive to how your fingertips traces the small of his back, he was getting a bit overwhelmed, not being able to see or yell out, much less move his arms still, you plunge the small machine further in him, "As long as its past his prostate." You thought. "I'll push it this time."

Sub!Choso is completely at your mercy, tied up, silences, bent over, whipped over and over, he was loving it. Scared at how quiet you were but this was the level of manhandled he would fantasize about.

It wasn't anything wrong with the way you did it before, but you still cared just a little bit, he felt your hesitation and wanted you to be as free as you wanted, proving right now that you're capable of leaving him bedridden for days.

Sub!Choso who yelps and gurgles through his gag as you turn the vibrator on. You test it out, pulling at the string to slowly bring it closer and closer to his prostate. You sure were going to tease the fuck out of him this way before putting on the strap.

Sub!Choso who lays on you, hugging you as tight as he could while recovering from the beating you gave his contemptible hole.

Sub!Choso who whispers his thanks, his appreciation, his admiration, just loving babble as he slips from this to sleep.

You tell him to shut up as you hold him closer to you.

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elrxiel · 11 hours

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"Bonus chapter ended Elriel!"

But here's the thing - it didn't have to.

If SJM had a change of heart during writing ACOSF or even before and decided that Gwyn and Az will be the final couple, she could have easily simply ignored writing anything about Azriel's feelings towards Elain. She could have not written about stolen glances - she could have written a scene where they have a conversation without any subtext, just a friendly encounter so the readers would get a clear sign - they are just friends, they are not interested in each other in any way. She could have switched the narrative - making Az behave towards any other character the way he behaves with Elain and making Elain not care, not look at him, not practically dying for him to kiss her.

But she did not.

Instead she wrote paragraphs saying Azriel cannot stand the smell of the mating bond between Elain and Lucien (which is alarming on its own, given the fact that he should not be able to smell it in the first place), that this man spent the last year almost sleepless because he keeps thinking about that girl and the gift she picked for him. She wrote Azriel questioning the Cauldron itself and Elain willing to risk it all even tho her mate was sleeping upstairs. SJM said directly with all of these "look, those two WANT each other, those scenes in previous books DID indicate that there is a mutual wanting between them".

Place yourself as an author for a second - would you really spend three books placing hints and scenes foreshadowing a couple only to "end" them in the bonus chapter, which most of the readers won't even know exist? Would you, knowing that you plan for other couples to be an endgame, wrote about things that literally point that those two characters are so into each other they don't give a single fuck about bonds and religion? Would you write another male guessing something only a mate should be able to guess, the same male being the only one noticing the woman is missing and going on a suicidal mission to get her back? Would you write "you came for me"? Would you write a full scene of this woman emerging from the shadows (the literal power of said male), using the blade he let touching only her? Would you write her buying gifts for him but not for any other man?

And finally, if you plan to make those two end up with different characters anyway, would you really write them like that? Az being the person pining for someone for 500 years and being the one knowing for ignoring orders, only to slowly develop feelings towards someone else who wants him back, would suddenly forget about it and move to a new girl in a heartbeat just because somebody said so? Elain being the person who stated blankly "I don't want him" indicating to her mate, being someone who shall wed for love, suddenly deciding "yes, you know what, I don't want this man who showed me nothing but kindness and who was the only one who actually saw and listened, who saved my life and then gave me a weapon to defend myself, I'm gonna be with my mate now, even tho I'm shrinking with discomfort whenever I'm near him". Even if it fits your fantasies, it does not fit the way characters were written. And at the end of the day, it's not the fantasies that matter. It's what has been written and given us to read and see ourselves.

#elriel #pro elriel #azriel x elain #anti e/lucien #anti g/wynriel

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gwennybriggs · 22 hours

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After All This Time

Can’t keep my mind focused on the last chapter of Pick and Choose (surprise surprise lol) so enjoy this tidbit. :)

Wc: 1.6k

Melissa Schemmenti x fem reader

Summary: Many years after the first time she asked, you’re finally able to give Melissa the answer she’s waited her entire life for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Melissa sat at the breakfast table with a plate of toast, bacon, and eggs; she smiled up at you as you placed a hot cup of coffee in front of her and took your own seat. She looked out the window to your backyard to watch your adult children play soccer with your husband. You watched as the corners of her eyes crinkled with silent laughter, taking in every detail of her face like it was the last time you’d ever see her again.

Every year, Melissa spent a week of her summer break visiting you and your family in Maine. You were childhood best friends, you went to college together, she fell in love with you and you turned her down to be with your now husband. But even after you broke her heart, she stuck around. Melissa was a bridesmaid at your wedding, and earned the title of ‘aunt’ when your twins were born. She was there for every birthday and holiday, every cheer competition and weekend soccer game, she was even there to make soup and clean waste baskets when the whole family caught the flu one summer break. In turn, you were there for her marriage to Joe and their eventual divorce. You helped her get back into the dating world just to watch her give up and resign herself to a life alone, claiming that having your family to spend time with was enough for her.

“My God, when did they grow up?” The redhead let out a watery laugh as Melanie tackled Ethan to the ground and wiped a tear from her cheek.

“I ask myself that every day. It seems like just yesterday we were planning their baby shower, now they’ve graduated college and are spending their last summer at home before they move away for their big kid jobs,” you said with a wistful sigh.

Melissa glanced at you with sorrow in her eyes and drifted into her own thoughts. Silence filled the air again as you both nibbled at your breakfasts and stared out the window. She wanted so badly for this to be her reality: to wake up every day for breakfast with you, for those two knuckleheads of yours to be her own too, to experience all the little domestic moments in life with you. All of it.

As far as she knew, you never thought about the day she asked you to run away with her in college. You never spoke with her about it after you let her down (except for that one drunken time she asked again at your bachelorette party, but she forgot about that the next day), you just kept going through life as if it never happened. Really, you thought about it every day. Back then your parents controlled every aspect of your life: which college you went to, what you majored in, what you wore, who you were friends with, and even who you dated. They were strict and if they even had an inkling that you were into women they would have pulled back from your life completely, leaving you with nothing and no one. You were scared of losing everything you ever knew, so despite wanting nothing more than to take Melissa’s hand and be hers forever, you married the man they wanted you to and kept your true feelings bottled deep within.

Slowly, you reached for the hand she had wrapped around her mug and held it in yours. She tore her eyes away from the game outside to look at you in shock; you hadn’t held her hand since your wedding day. You leaned across the table and placed a gentle kiss to her lips.

Her brow furrowed in confusion, hand remaining in yours. “Y/N?”

“Ask me again.” You half whispered.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“What you asked me all those years ago.” You squeezed her hand, your eyes glossy with unshed tears. “Ask. Me. Again.”

Her eyes fell to the napkin on her lap. “I can’t take that heartbreak again, hon. Plus, you have Mike and the kids, it wouldn’t be fair to them. You’ve got a happy family now, you don’t wanna lose that.”

“We’re not as happy as we seem, Red. Besides, Mike‘s always known. You’ve been the one for me since before I could put words to feelings.” You squeezed her hand again, a quiet plea for her to look at you. This time she squeezed back but she still couldn’t bring herself to look up.

She was silent for a moment before she spoke again. “Your mother would kill you.”

You chuckled, “I’m fifty somethin’ years old, it’s past time I cut those apron strings. What’s she gonna do? Take away my inheritance? She’s used most of it to spoil her grandkids anyway.” You lifted her chin to look at you. Your tone turned back to serious. “The kids know too. They won’t tell me they know, but they do. Ethan overheard me talking to Mike a few months ago about the divorce, I heard him run down the hall to tell Melanie. They’re adults now, I think they understand why and how things change.” Your voice caught in your throat, “We’ve known for many years that this marriage would end as soon as the kids were outta the house. Mike and I have talked about it a hundred times. We promised each other that we’d play ‘happy family’ until we knew the twins would be alright. This is our last ‘normal’ week before we sign the papers and our not-so-baby birds leave the nest.”

Mel wiped away the tears that spilled down your cheeks and you gave her a small smile. You’d loved her your whole life, and after everything you’d been through together you never thought you’d feel like you could lose her until that moment. You were so scared she’d walk away, that all those feelings from years ago had been washed away with time.

“Ask me, Mel. Please?”

She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by the kitchen door swinging open and the twins bounding in to brag about their win against their dad. Mike made his way upstairs to shower without a word. Melanie hopped into Melissa’s lap, earning an ‘oof’ from her, and wrapped an arm around her neck. Melissa had always been her favorite person and you were okay with that, after all she was named after her.

“Aunt Mel, wanna go get ice cream with us to celebrate dad’s defeat?” Your daughter played with the bracelets on Melissa’s wrist, waiting for an answer.

“It’s like 10:30, isn’t it a little early for ice cream, Mini Mel,” the redhead laughed and your daughter’s nose scrunched.

“Damn, what happened to you being the cool mom,” Ethan asked as he stole the last slice of her bacon from her plate. “C’mon, I’m buying!”

Melissa’s smile faltered at the word ‘mom’ but she quickly fixed it, “Next time lead with that, kid. Go start the car, I’ll be there in a second.” She dug into her purse and tossed the keys to your son. Ethan beamed and Melanie raced him out the front door, fighting over who got to ride shotgun. Once everyone was out of the room, she directed her attention back to you.

“Just ask, I promise I won’t hurt you again. I wanna grow old with you and sit in recliners complaining about the price of eggs and milk. I want to spend the rest of my life in your arms. Please, baby.”

She sighed and screwed her eyes shut. You only called her baby when you were drunk. Hearing it come from your sober lips caused her heart to ache. She wanted it, a future with you, with her whole being. “You can’t drop everything for me, Y/N.”

“You’ve dropped everything for me our whole lives, it’s my turn. I’ll go anywhere, do anything, as long as it’s with you. I’m sorry it’s taken me thirty years to get here, but I’m here if you’ll have me. I’d get on my knees to beg, but I’m afraid I’d need you to pick me up.”

Melissa fought tears. “I’ll always pick you up when you’re down, hon, you know that.” She rubbed her eyes, fluffed her hair, and took a deep breath. “After Tweedle Dee and Dum eat their weight in ice cream we’ll talk. I want this, but there’s a lot of emotions that I don’t know how to deal with right this second.”

She began to walk away but you caught her elbow and turned her around. “We’ll talk later, but I still need you to ask.”

You looked deep into her eyes, love and longing swimming around in the pools of green. “Y/N, will you runaway with me and be mine for the rest of our days,” she choked out.

“Only if you promise to always be mine in return,” you teased.

“As if I’ve ever been anyone else’s.” She rolled her eyes and smiled gently.

You kissed her deeply, letting her know how much you truly loved her. Melissa’s hand tangled in your hair, holding you in place. Your whole body burned for her, just as hers did for you. She was the first to release from the kiss and you pouted at the loss of contact. She started walking backwards towards the door to join the twins, a grin on her face so wide you could see all of her pearly whites.

“Forever starts soon, better start packin’ doll.”

You bit your lip and waved as she turned around to leave, muttering an ‘I love you, be safe’ after you heard your kids yell for Melissa to hurry up. Before she was completely out the door she turned her head over her shoulder, “I love you, too. Always have, always will.”

#melissa schemmenti x you #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti x reader #fluff #angst #Aunt Melissa

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the-cards-she-wont-show · 1 day

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TTPD Twin Storylines weaved together & double meanings throughout! ✌️👯‍♀️💕

Attention ALL Swifties (particularly Gaylors) and associates of the Tortured Poets department

PLEASE READ!! (and read with an open mind!!)🤍

Listening to the amazing TTPD on repeat this past week, I am certain that I have made an important discovery that I haven't seen talked about anywhere else yet and would like to get the coversation going, in hopes that Taylor will see that we are all finally listening to her! I'm still piecing everything together, as there is so much to unravel and am far from calling myself an expert on her exact timelines and dates, so am looking forward to hearing thoughts from others that are more knowledgable in her history.

I have been of the belief for a while now that Mastermind and Dear Reader were foretelling of her future, and also that the album title had a double meaning (evidenced by the lack of apostrophe in 'poets'). That the tortured poet would be departing. Note that I am also a believer that she has been closeted by those closest to her and is preparing to ruin her name and perceived reputation, give up the false public version of herself and come into her own true self. Everything as we know it will be destroyed and it is all playing out now, coming together as part of her plan.

Falling in line with all of the two's - the double album, the double meaning in the album name, the two sides of taylor etc, I have found that there are two intertwining stories told throughout her tracklist, AND that all songs also have a double meaning!! None of which are about the perceived muses of Travis, Matty or Joe. The 'evidence' for those relationships are all red herrings (for example 'putting narcotics into all of my songs' - but only in the songs with obvious reference to her beards), to make it seem ambiguous and open to interpretation of who the songs may be about, which is seen often throughout her discography. She uses an incredible amount of metaphors and we must look beyond those to decipher her lyrics - do not take anything at face level with Taylor. Most should realise that she is so much smarter than making obvious songs about whichever male muse she is 'dating' at the time. She has always played into that public view to cover her true self. Many songs have themes of secret and hidden love, which juxtaposes with the public 'relationships' she is seen as having.

She tells us in 'The Manuscript' that "lookin' backwards might be the only way to move forward". Therefore we must listen to TTPD in reverse, from track 31 (13 reversed!) to track 1. I believe The Manuscript also acts as a bookend for both of her stories and should be listened to as a closer after the last song of the story 'Fortnight' ends, to get a complete picture. Once we have listened to the album in reverse order, can we see so plainly that each song tells a different story of a period/situation/muse/love/heartbreak in her life - beginning at her parents meeting in The Manuscript, to current day. I think the songs may also actually have a sister song from the corresponding album/period in time, with similar sound, lyrics or theme that connects them. I believe that each song also has a double meaning and can be interpreted as messages to her fans about things that have happened to her over the years or that are about to happen, and she is trying to communicate her feelings of being trapped, which is honestly so heartbreaking. Many relate to her being caged and forced to hide her true self, in particular by one person closest to her - her father. It is devastating to listen to.

The really brilliant part I discovered next, is that The Anthology tracks also have another hidden storyline being told which intertwines and intersects in the exact right place to fit in with her life story. It includes all of the "THE" songs and is in reverse order from the parallel life story and vinyl variants order of issue (but chronological track list order).

The Tortured Poets Department

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

The Alchemy

The Black Dog

The Albatross

The Prophecy

The Bolter

The Manuscript

Rather than presenting my interpretation of the timeline and each story told in every song, I urge everyone to listen to both stories, in these exact orders, with an open mind as to what she could possibly be describing! My mind was completely blown when I figured this out!! Her mind is incredible, there is no other way to describe the album, other than a masterpiece! I feel so much for the pain she has gone through. This album explains her feelings and reasons for hiding her true self over the years for any fans that will inevitably be feeling upset and deceived. We all need to show compassion for everything Taylor has sacrificed and give her what she needs. She truly deserves love, honesty, happiness and peace. ✌️💜

I'm in the process of creating a document trying to piece all of the hidden connections together just to wrap my head around this amazing body of work, so may possibly link this when I have it completed, otherwise I will add it to this post for anyone that might be interested.

I have a couple of extra personal thoughts, theories and hopes for anyone still reading…

The manuscript of her life story may possibly be the manuscript for a future book/film.

I think one meaning of "Fortnight" is a foretelling message to the fans that havent been noticing any of her many hair pin drops - she has been trying to get the message across but they aren't listening. For the fans she loses when she comes out - she touched them with this album for only a fortnight, before she lost them. She loves the fans but staying in the closet is ruining her life. I think something big could be happening a fortnight after release? Friday 3rd May is International Sun Day. ☀️ Karlie Kloss was always 'sunshine' to Taylor. According to Karlie, their first meeting was at the 2011 Met Gala on May 2, however, there is a possibility that they could have met at the afterparty - after midnight, making the anniversary May 3! 2024 Met Gala is a few days later, could they both make an appearance? If nothing big occurs, perhaps some seeds of doubt will be planted on the 3rd? Or.. It could also be a surprise rep TV (with or without Karma and Debut - surprise triple drop?) with wlw vault tracks?! Who really knows.. I honestly have no idea, but whatever happens, I know Taylor has it all meticulously planned out and everything will happen when it is supposed to.

Taylor is chairman of the Tortured Poets department - the leader of the mass coming out we are about to see. As Chely Wright put - 'we need someone at the top' to come out and pave the way for others to do the same, and to stop the forced closeting in the celebrity world. I think Travis and the majority of her former beards are also queer and there will be many more 'tortured poets' that will join 'the department'.

Karma will be album 1 (TS12) in the 3,2,1 countdown, TS13 is 0 - the album in which she gets all of her full colour back, reclaims her glitter gel pens and finally can sing her truth proudly! She has destroyed her own name and reputation, burnt down the lover house and all her former selves.

Last of all, PLEASE BE KIND! If anyone has made it to the end of this and doesnt agree, I'd love for you to have a listen to the songs in the orders above before commenting. If not, lets just agree to disagree! We all have our own personal takes on Taylor's lyricism and I would never dream of being unkind to another just for having a difference of opinion. 🫶

For Taylor - if you somehow happen to see this - please know you are truly a mastermind, you are loved and we've got you!

🌈💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛💛🌈

❤️ gerimegs

#taylor swift #gaylor #kaylor #ttpd #thetorturedmusesdept #the tortured poets department #the tortured poets dept #taylorswift #swifties #taylornation #tsttpd #taylor swift eras #erastour

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fyonahmacnally · 19 hours

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Eight Years Ago, Cambridge, MA…

Stormy blue meets turbulent green. Palpable tension crackles in the air as things escalate faster than usual. Pent up anger and resentment boil over like a volcanic eruption of past transgressions never spoken. They hurl sharpened words at one another, daggers cutting through the fragile skin of the relationship they’ve forged for four years. It’s been building, both of them know it has, each stewing in the silent hurricane of thoughts swirling inside them. It was an inevitable train wreck set on course six months ago when Lena decided to stay in Cambridge instead moving to National City with Kara as planned.

Four years at MIT together, two as best friends, two as lovers and living together. They talk about everything. At least that’s what Kara thought until that moment six months ago when Lena dropped her bombshell. Now, they’re standing in the middle of their apartment screaming at one another like they’re sworn enemies instead of longtime lovers. Each of them tossing insults and barbs at one another with complete abandon. Sharing spiteful disdain in the way they used to share I love you’s.

Neither of them stop to think about what they are saying or the damage they are causing. It’s heated. It’s cruel. Everything is going down in flames and neither of them seem to care. Kara yells about Lena’s horrendous family and how she’s behaving just like them. Lena screams about Kara’s naivete and obliviousness. They cut one another to the bone with words neither of them ever thought they’d speak to each other. It’s an emotional bloodbath drowning the remnants of their relationship in the dripping, viscous venom spewing from their lips.

Eventually, the room is silent. The only sound is the heaving breath of the two women glaring at one another, tears falling. It’s a moment frozen in time, one that neither of them will ever forget.

It’s Kara who finally storms out. Since she’s finished packing all her things for the move anyway, she reasons that getting an early start on her drive will get her to National City faster. Plus, she desperately needs to get away from the demise of her relationship. Her once homey and warm apartment feels cold and foreign. The woman in front of her is suddenly a stranger. Her heart is decimated, shattered into a million pieces. She thought for sure Lena was it for her. Her other half, her person. Apparently not. Everything they’ve built lies broken and dead at her feet as she grabs her final piece of luggage.

Dragging the bag behind her, she pauses at the door. Hanging her head as tears glide across her skin, she whispers, “I will always love you. I just thought you felt the same.” Taking a deep breath, she straightens her back and opens the door. She keeps her eyes forward and her jaw set. If she looks back now, she’ll change her mind and it’s too late for that.

Lena stares at the closed door, her mouth hanging open, arms wrapped tightly around herself, and tears streaming from her eyes. She has no doubt she just made the biggest mistake of her life, but she’s frozen in place. Everything happened so fast, it’s a blur. She’s utterly confused as to how she has managed to destroy the longest, healthiest relationship she’s ever had. She’s staying at MIT to get her doctorate, but had no intention of breaking things off with Kara. In her mind, they’d make it work. They always said they were stronger together and could tackle anything as long as they had each other. Sure, she probably should have spoken to her girlfriend when she applied to the PhD program, but her anxiety got the best of her and she waited until everything was in place.

Now, here she stands watching the love of her life walk away. She’s paralyzed, stuck in the spot where her life fell apart. Her eyes seem to suddenly refocus and time speeds back up. Unsure of how much time has passed, she is suddenly hit with the reality of what just happened and bolts out the door. Kara. She has to catch Kara. Just as she rushes out the front of the building and onto the sidewalk, she can see the taillights fading from sight. Her whole world just drove away in a moving truck. Without her. Her body acts before her mind does, she runs back up the stairs. Swinging the door to the apartment open, she snatches her phone up to call Kara. Voicemail. She calls again. Same thing.

And so it goes for hours, then days, then weeks. Lena even tries to call Alex, to no avail. It’s the same silence. Eventually, she resigns herself to the fact she fucked up and she has to live with it. When three months turns to six and six into twelve, she finally puts the pictures away. She lost her chance at happiness and love. Now she needs to put all of her focus and energy into school. It’s the only thing that gets her through the rest of her masters and PhD programs.

Present Day, New York City…

Six more years in school and two degrees later, Lena has moved forward in her life. Well, as much as she can. She hasn’t had any real relationship to speak of since she and Kara split up. A few flings and one night stands, but nothing serious. It’s hard when she hasn’t stopped loving the bubbly blonde that stole her heart all those years ago. Deep down, she knows she’ll never love anyone the way she did…does Kara.

Her Kara. Or she used to be.

It’s been two years since she began working for Spheerical Tech & Pharmaceuticals as their head of research and development. It’s grueling and exhausting. Not that it matters because she doesn’t have a life outside of work. She spends half her time in New York in her lab and the other half split between Cambridge and National City with occasional trips to London. She visits each of their lab sites at least once a year, sometimes more. Most of the time she volunteers for the trips. Besides, no one is at home to miss her. Not even a pet. No one is around to call before she goes to bed. It’s pretty sad when she really thinks about it.

When her boss and longtime friend, Jack, first mentioned needing her to manage the National City lab, she was hesitant. She didn’t want to risk running into Kara at all. Sure, it’s a large, populated city and the odds are slim, but Kara doesn’t need her showing up and ruining the life she has now. She knows her ex-girlfriend made a name for herself and became a well-respected investigative and scientific tech journalist. The woman is absolutely one of the best and most accomplished journalists of their generation. In fact, Lena has every article the blonde has ever published. Further, unbeknownst to Kara, Lena was there when she won her first Pulitzer three years ago. She stayed in the back of the crowd and left before anyone knew she was ever there.

Even now, eight years later, Kara is never far from her mind. Of course, she stopped calling Kara years ago, she has no idea if she even has the same number anymore. Lena kept hers, the same number all these years. Kara will probably never use it. She hasn’t yet, but at least it’s there if she ever tries.

She has always genuinely wanted Kara to be happy. No matter what it looks like, that’s what she wants for her. Even after all this time, the one thing Lena held onto, the one thing she does every year, is send an email on the anniversary of their first date. She has no idea if Kara reads them since she has never responded, but she still sends them. Never any words. Always just a simple heart emoji. Nothing else.

It’s why she’s thinking about their fight and the demise of their relationship right now. There’s roughly three months until the anniversary of their first date. Ten years ago, they went on their first date. A long, wistful sigh escapes her lips. They met at the station across from campus in Cambridge and took the train to Boston to spend the day. She remembers when their eyes met across the terminal, there was an eruption of butterflies in her belly. It was as if she could finally breathe. What she wouldn’t give to see those cerulean eyes again.

That’s when she gets an idea. Probably the worst one she’s had since she let Kara walk out the apartment door. It’s probably fruitless. She’s pretty sure Kara has long since forgotten her, especially after the hurt she caused. But, what if, after all this time, Kara still feels the same?

One more time and then she’ll give up. For good.

Present Day, National City…

Kara is having a shit day. She spilled coffee on her favorite shirt, broke her favorite pen, and missed her first deadline in years. Then, Alex canceled sister’s night because of some emergency at the hospital. And fine, she gets it, Alex is a doctor, blah blah blah. Still doesn’t mean she has to be okay with it. Needless to say, she’s ready to go home to curl up with her favorite show and some ice cream. If she could leave right now she’d pack up and be gone in an instant. Unfortunately, she still has three more hours left. She sighs an exasperated sigh and drops her forehead onto her desk.

It’s moments like this when she thinks about Lena. Her ex-girlfriend had a way with brightening the worst of her days. Their nights together, the fun they had, the uninhibited comfort her presence provided. She hasn’t found that comfort in anyone since. The closeness and trust the two of them had was something she’s sure she’ll never have again. She’s tried, she really has. Several times over the years, with men and women alike. No one ever compares to the woman she reluctantly admits she still loves.

There are so many things about their last fight she wishes she could take back. So many things she regrets. It still makes her cringe when she thinks about the spiteful things she said to Lena and the hurt she saw in her favorite green eyes. The biggest regret from that day is walking away without talking things out. She knows neither of them behaved very rationally the last six months of their relationship. It eventually culminated in their massive blow-up followed by their sudden break-up. Unfortunately, it isn’t something she can take back or undo.

Actually, scratch that, her biggest regret from back then is ignoring Lena’s calls and letting Alex talk her into blocking her number. There have been so many times over the years when she wanted to reach out, to hear that smooth, saccharine voice again. It seems there’s a little voice in her head always preventing her from doing it. The nagging little voice repeats things like ‘you deserve better than her’ and ‘she doesn’t care or think about you anymore’. The voice sounds an awful lot like Alex. As much as she loves her sister, her overprotective actions probably cost her any chance at reconciliation. Given how long it’s been, she’s almost certain of it.

She puffs out a frustrated breath. This happens every single time she thinks about Lena. She remembers the chance she could have taken, the window of time in which she might have been able to fix things. Now, there’s no way, it’s too late. Her eyes close briefly before she lifts her head up from her desk. Blue eyes settle on the phone sitting next to her keyboard and her lips twitch upward in a wistful smile.

Pulling the device toward her, she navigates to the one file she keeps locked and protected. It’s an obscure folder with a few pictures of her and Lena. Her finger swipes through the pictures and her eyes tear up before she quickly closes it. She navigates to her contacts where her weepy eyes scan over the place where Lena’s phone number still sits. Seven numbers and her favorite name casually staring up at her. A combination of letters and numbers she could never get rid of.

A shaky hand makes its way to her glasses, pulling them off to wipe away the errant tears that managed to escape. Her mind wanders again. Would the number still work if she tried to call? Probably not. Surely Lena changed her number and moved on, right? She’s intelligent, successful, and a goddess of a woman. The amount of people likely knocking on her door for dates is innumerable. Certainly more options than Kara has.

She leans back in her chair with her head tilted toward the ceiling and runs her hands down her face. Silently chastising herself for letting her mind drift, it doesn’t do any good to think about it. Not anymore. She doesn’t even know where Lena lives or what she’s doing. Last she heard, Lena is an executive with Spheerical. Possibly one of the chief executives? One thing she’s sure of, Lena gets photographed in New York and London several times a year. So, she could live in either place for all Kara knows.

Kara is very aware there’s a branch of the company here in National City as well. It’s a building she passes almost every day. She’s fairly certain she would know if the beautiful genius was living in her city. There’s no way they wouldn’t have at least been in the same places. Given her work in science and technology for CatCo and Lena’s involvement in research and development, Kara would know. RIght? In fact, she’s interviewed a few of the staff scientists at the National City branch. If Lena was working there, she’d know. Wouldn’t she?

Another deep sigh forces itself out of her throat as she shakes her head. It’s a motion made in a futile attempt to remove any thoughts of her lost love from her mind. At this rate, it won’t ever happen. She’s doomed to carry her love for Lena to her grave. It’s been eight years and her heart still skips a beat when she sees a raven-haired woman resembling her ex-girlfriend. Her chest still aches when she looks at pictures or sifts through her memories. Her brain still runs what if scenarios for any possible conversation they might have should they ever meet again.

While she knows it’s unlikely, she can’t help but think about the possibility Lena might still love her too. She’s sure it’s a false hope, but what if? It’s crossed her mind countless times. Honestly, she’s surprised Lena didn’t reach out via email when her calls didn’t go through. It’s one of the reasons she’s so sure her ex has moved on. The Lena she knew would have exhausted all avenues. Maybe she should try to text her old number. If it’s someone else’s number, then at least she’d know.

She really needs to talk to Alex. Her sister is the only one that can talk her out of doing something rash.

Lena glares at the blinking cursor in front of her. She spent the better part of two months convincing Jack she needs to be in National City for the month of October. He was skeptical at first, but she managed to backlog enough work to justify it. Instincts tell her Jack still doesn’t believe her, but she’s here and got her way. That’s what matters at this point.

Now, here she sits inside her office at Spheerical, a few scant blocks from CatCo. The thought makes her stomach do somersaults, knowing how close she currently is to Kara. A long sigh presses between her lips as she continues to stare at her screen. The email in front of her has been written and rewritten so many times she lost count. Her anxiety is at peak levels and she still isn’t sure this is a good idea. But really, what does she have to lose at this point? Her dignity and pride walked out the apartment door with Kara eight years ago.

A shaky breath billows from her mouth as she drops her head into her hands. She’s been working on this email for two weeks. Well, longer if she counts the amount of time she spent drafting it in her head. In truth, it began to form almost three months ago when she was thinking about the blonde goddess living rent free in her mind. Again, it’s probably the worst idea she’s had since that fateful day. The day Lena turned her entire world upside down.

She chuckles and shakes her head, resting her hands back on her desk. “Come on, Lena. It’s no big deal. You’re just asking the woman you haven’t spoken to in eight years to meet you at a park.” Another humorless laugh leaves her throat as she realizes she’s talking to herself. “I’ve resorted to giving myself verbal pep talks now. I mean, I guess that goes along with the insanity of trying to convince my ex-girlfriend to meet with me seemingly out of the blue. On the anniversary of our first date, no less. What have I become?”

Her finger lands on the backspace key as she starts the email again for the umpteenth time. It’s her final hail mary. Her last attempt at connecting with the woman that still owns her heart. Some part of her desperately hopes Kara will show up and they can, at the very least, talk things out and get the closure they never had. Her heart wants Kara to feel the same way she does. She wants a second chance, but she’s a realist. The odds of that are slim to none. Her rational side and the little voice in her head sounding eerily similar to Lillian’s, says her chance has passed and there isn’t anything she can do to change it.

But, there’s a tiny little kernel of hope holding out. That’s what she’s holding onto.

“Alright, Luthor. You have to get your shit together. Tomorrow is the day so it’s now or never.” She reads over the email one final time before scheduling it to send at midnight or 12:01 a.m to be exact. October 16th - the anniversary of their first date. She sighs and hopes for the best. Nothing about this goes beyond her usual one email per year. This one just has words attached to it. A simple request really. She’s not anxious about it at all.

Not. One. Bit.

Her office suddenly feels too small and too quiet. With her thoughts racing at jet speed inside her skull, she bolts from her desk and makes her way down to the labs. Her brain needs a distraction or she’s going to have a panic attack and change her mind. Changing her mind is the last thing she wants. She’s loved Kara for ten years. The woman owns her heart, something that will likely never change.

So, she needs to distract herself for the next two days and hope the blonde shows up tomorrow evening. What could go wrong?

October 16th - the day Kara dreads every year. The anniversary of their first date. One would think after all these years, she wouldn’t remember it or care, but she does. She remembers everything and always has. The first three years were hard. She took off work and shut the world out. After those rough years, it kind of got better. Now, she does the best she can. Sometimes, she leaves early and spends the day with her favorite movie and ice cream. This year is shaping up to be one of those years. She has to take care of a few things this morning, but there is a pint of Ben & Jerry’s calling her name. She’ll be on her couch and stuffing her face with some Moose Tracks by 3:00 p.m.

Most of her day is uneventful. She even manages to get through it without scrolling through her folder of old pictures. Well, more than a few times. It counts. It was less than last year, give her a break. Lena is beautiful, amazing, and a goddess on Earth. No one can blame her for reminiscing on how it felt to hold her and just bask in her presence. The feeling of soft pale skin against her own…

A long, frustrated sigh followed by a growl of irritation crawls from her throat. Now is certainly not the time to be thinking about Lena’s skin against hers. Not to mention all the other very vivid and inconvenient images running rampant in her mind. Kara wearily shakes her head in an futile attempt at erasing the memories flashing across her mind’s eye. This happens every year on this day. She combs through the memories of the two years they spent as lovers, even the two years they were friends beforehand are filled with moments imprinted on her skin.

Another glance at the clock on the wall across the bullpen tells her she still has another hour before she can safely leave without causing any eyebrows to raise. She decides to plunge herself into some research she has to do for an upcoming piece on Spheerical. Fortunately, she gets lost in the details and the next time she looks up, it’s time to head out to lunch and then to her couch.

Just as she’s walking out of the building, her phone vibrates. A big smile stretches across her face when she sees Alex calling. “Hey, Alex!” She hurries across the sidewalk and across the road, dodging people as she goes. “Perfect timing. I’m just heading to Noonan’s to grab lunch. Are you still coming over later for sister’s night?”

“Yes, dork. Don’t we always spend this night together?” Alex huffs, rolling her eyes at her sister. “I’m leaving the hospital now, but I have to go by my apartment first. Do you need me to bring anything?”

Kara hums in thought, pausing outside the entrance to Noonan’s before shaking her head. “Nah. I have ice cream and snacks already. Just bring whatever alcohol you want if you plan to drink. You know I only have the fruity stuff.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you in an hour or so.” Alex says, a smile evident in her voice. “Love you, dork.”

Chuckling, Kara shakes her head and smiles. “Be careful. Love you, too.” She ends the call and steps inside, still laughing at her sister’s antics.

After deciding to eat her lunch on a park bench, she catches the bus home. Happy to finally be away from CatCo and the stresses of work, her mind drifts to Lena again. The last couple of years, her mind has conjured images of what their lives would be like if they were still together. Marriage, a house, and sometimes a baby. It’s not always the same, but they’re always married. Something Kara always thought would happen once they graduated and got settled in National City.

She’s shaken out of her daydreams by the subtle stop of the bus and people around her standing. A sorrowful sigh releases as she stands to exit as well. Her mind seems to enjoy torturing her with things she can’t have, made worse this day every year. As she steps off the bus, she spots her sister standing in front of her building and a smile replaces the frown she’s sure was there.

The two sisters make their way up the stairs and into Kara’s loft. They settle in to watch the movie they always watch on this day, Hocus Pocus. By the time they finish watching the movie and polish off their ice cream, it’s nearing dinner time. Alex orders pizza and potstickers and they snuggle back into the couch to wait, a random show playing in the background.

Alex eyes Kara carefully, brown eyes scanning her sister’s face. She can see the pain and sadness in the normally sparkling sapphire eyes. Instead of pushing the blonde to talk, she watches and waits, knowing Kara will eventually open up to her. It usually takes a few minutes, but she knows her sister will start spilling her feelings.

“I really miss her, Alex.” Kara says, tears welling in her stormy blue eyes. “Some days it feels like everything just happened. It feels so raw and so fresh. No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop loving her. My heart won’t let me. No matter how much convincing my mind does, my heart won’t let her go.” Two glittering tears slither between her eyelids and drip onto her shirt.

The redhead sighs, slides her arms around her younger sister, and pulls her close. “I know, kiddo. I wish there was something I could say or do to make it easier for you.” She rests her head on top of Kara’s as they sit in silence for a few minutes. Their bubble bursts when there is a knock on the door. “That’s probably the food, I’ll get it.”

Alex bounds over to the door while Kara leans back on the couch, head resting against the cushion and face pointed to the ceiling. She wipes away the now drying tears, willing the rest to stop their descent down her cheeks. Her body remains still even after Alex drops the food onto the table. When she finally looks down, it’s to check the time on her watch. 6:43 p.m.

“We’d been on our date for about an hour by now. It was one of the best nights of my life, Alex. We walked through the park, the leaves changing all around us, and the sun going down. Each of us had a cup of hot chocolate in one hand while holding hands with the other.” Kara wistfully smiles as she remembers how she felt. “It was almost magical, we talked just like we always did, but it was…more. It was like we connected on a new level, like something clicked into place. Like…coming home.”

She looks up at Alex, tears streaming down her face, bottom lip trembling. “Why does it still hurt so much? I’ve spent the last eight years feeling like part of me is missing. Why won’t it stop?” An anguished look twists Alex’s face as she pulls her baby sister back into her arms. They sit and silently rock, waiting for Kara’s tears to subside.

Lena takes a deep breath as she sits on the park bench just inside the park. She twists the key and keychain in her hand with a smile. It’s the only thing she still has that was Kara’s. It’s a dorky keychain she bought the blonde on their first date. A pewter medallion with her name engraved across the front and the Boston skyline behind it. It’s not worth anything, but it’s one of her most prized possessions. Kara’s apartment key is still attached to it along with a woven bracelet. After the blonde walked out that day, Lena saw it laying on the counter and hasn’t parted with it since. She keeps it in her pocket and has it on her everyday.

Glancing at her watch, she starts to feel a sense of dread bubble in the bottom of her stomach. It’s pushing 7:30 now and she asked Kara to meet her here at 7:00. She told herself she wouldn’t wait longer than an hour. Knowing the reporter for four years and living with her for two, she knows her ex-girlfriend can lose track of time. Lena’s hands continue to fidget with the keychain, running the pad of her fingers across the raised letters. Verdant eyes watch countless couples and kids pass by, but none of them are the figure she so desperately wants to see.

A trembling sigh rushes across her now chapped lips, she can feel the stinging of tears in her eyes so she bites her cheek to stop them from falling. A glance at her phone shows she’s been here for much longer than the self-allotted time frame. Her watch face mocks her with a time of 8:07 p.m. Still no sign of Kara. Lena glances around one more time to make sure she didn’t overlook anything as she checks her phone to make sure she did say 7:00 p.m. in her email. Knots continue to tie themselves together in her stomach.

She decides she can wait just a little longer.

So she does. She sits stoically on the bench, fidgeting with a relic from a relationship that ended almost a decade ago. A relationship that will officially be dead and buried after tonight. Unless a miracle happens and Kara appears in front of her, it’s pretty evident that her hope was for naught. The woman that holds her heart released it long ago. She’s doomed to love someone who doesn’t love her back.

At 8:32 p.m. on October 16th, Kara Danvers broke her heart for the first and last time. She broke her own heart eight years ago, it only seems fitting that it’s irreparably shattered by the woman that will own it for eternity.

Gathering the strength to stand from the bench is a lot harder than she anticipates. Lena ends up having to pause before she can finally stand to walk back to her car. She does manage to keep the tears at bay until she reaches the car and is safely inside. That’s when she releases the sob that has been building in her gut for hours. The sounds and tears coming from her body are louder and heavier than anything she’s experienced in her life. With the trauma she’s been through, that is saying a lot.

When she finally manages to stifle the tears enough to drive back to her hotel, she makes her way back to her room as discreetly and quietly as she can. She refuses to break down completely until she is in the privacy of her own room. By some saving grace, she steps into her room, closes the door, and immediately collapses on the floor. She must have eventually cried herself to sleep because she woke up in the same place two hours later.

Peeling herself off the floor, she stripped off her clothes and fell into bed, makeup and all. The rest of the world would have to wait.

“I can’t answer that, kiddo. It hurts because you still love her and never got closure.” Alex says, watching her sister’s face contort from an invisible pain. “Come on, Kara. At least eat something. Please.”

“How the hell am I supposed to eat right now, Alex? How?!” Kara screeches, her voice rough from tears and emotion. “I shouldn’t have blocked her number. I should have just called her, Alex. Why didn’t she email me or write me a letter? Something!”

Another gut-wrenching sob rips from her chest, her body heaving with each one as it wracks from her lungs. Alex’s gut twists with guilt as she wrestles with the words sitting like ash on her tongue. Watching her sister writhe in the pain of heartache that she might have contributed to is eating her alive. When her baby sister’s distraught blue eyes land on hers, the decision is made. She has to confess.

“Umm, K-Kara. D-Do you have your laptop close by?” Alex asks, looking around the living room, but not seeing the device. “Can you tell me where it is?” Her eyes settle on the heartbroken blonde and take in the stretched out arm pointing across the room to the dining table. She gently squeezes her sister’s shoulder and makes her way over to grab it. Taking a brief moment to steel herself for what she’s about to do, she takes a deep breath and turns to face the truth.

Kara tracks her sister’s movement, a little confused by her actions, and curious to know why she’s behaving like a scared dog. She sniffles, wiping her nose with the tissue her sister hands her. “What’s going on? Why are you acting so strange, Alex?” Her eyes scan the laptop now sitting on the couch between them. “Why are you opening my laptop? What’s going on?”

An audible gulp can be heard coming from the redhead’s throat. Brown eyes bounce between teary cerulean. “Eight years ago, when you called me crying hysterically about what happened, I got you to block Lena’s number. I knew she wouldn’t give up trying to contact you so…” Another hard swallow and a shaky inhale are the only two sounds Alex can hear at that moment. Everything else is drowned by the sudden ringing in her ears.

“What, Alex? So, what?” Kara says, a wave of nausea and anxiety builds in the pit of her stomach. “Alex. Please finish what you were saying.” Blue eyes filled with turmoil scan the redhead’s face, searching for something, a clue. There’s nothing, but fear and guilt resting on her usually stoic sister’s face. The look does nothing to ease the feeling gathering in Kara’s gut.

Alex opens the browser and pulls up Kara’s email. She clicks around a few times and Kara watches as her face falls. Her sister’s face goes white and tears gather in her eyes. A panicked and grief-stricken look settles on her sister’s face before she opens and closes her mouth a few times. Another deep breath. She sits the device in Kara’s lap before clearing her throat and dropping her hands into her own. “I knew Lena wouldn’t give up trying to contact you and I was so pissed at how much she hurt you, Kara. While you were driving to National City, I, umm…” A shaky breath, another hard swallow. “I blocked Lena’s email address so you wouldn’t get anything she sent to you.” The last part of her sentence is so quiet Kara almost doesn’t hear it.

Almost.

When Alex finally looks up, she can see her sister clicking through emails with tears streaming down her face. “Alex…” It’s a broken whisper, barely audible. As blue eyes finally look up, there is an anger unlike anything the redhead has seen before. “Get out. I want you out of my apartment right now. Do not talk to me right now, Alex. Just get the fuck out of my apartment. Now.”

It’s not loud. It’s not harsh. It’s broken and it rips Alex’s heart in two. She silently stands, gathers her jacket and keys before briefly pausing at the door. “I’m really sorry, Kara. I love you and I’m really, really sorry.”

There’s nothing but silence before the door softly closes. Once Kara is alone, she sifts through the emails. All of the things she missed over the last eight years. Lena tried. She tried to reach out, to fix things and Kara didn’t know. There were at least ten emails from the first few months after the breakup. A few more scattered across the first year and then one per year with a simple heart on the anniversary of their first date. Lena probably thinks…

Then, she sees the last email received. Dated today, sent early that morning.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Date: October 16, 2023, 12:01 a.m.

Subject: One Last Time

Hi Kara,

I remember everything. Your smile, your laugh, the way your eyes sparkle when you get excited. Every October 16th after you left Cambridge, I went to our park and retraced our steps. It was never the same without you. Of course it wasn’t, but it always made me feel closer to you.

You made me so happy, Darling. Being with you felt like being home, like I was finally whole and where I was meant to be. Losing you was the hardest thing I’ve ever faced. Even now, I feel like part of me is missing. You took part of me with you that day, Kara. I haven’t been the same since.

I know it’s been eight years and I know it’s a shot in the dark, but I have to try one last time to reach you. I’m in National City. If you want to and are available, I’d like to see you again. Meet me inside Centennial Park at 7:00 p.m. tonight. There’s a bench about one hundred feet from the gate to the left next to the footpath. I’ll be there until 8:00 p.m.

If you don’t show, I’ll understand. Just know I remember everything and I’ll always remember you.

All my love,

Lena

Kara’s eyes go wide. She scrambles up from her couch, looking down at her watch and almost dropping her laptop. Shoving the laptop onto the coffee table, she steps into her shoes, snatches her keys and jacket, and bolts down the stairs. She doesn’t have a car and the park is at least a thirty minute walk, but the bus would be just as long. Without another option, she starts running.

It was nearly 8:17 p.m. when she left her apartment so the odds of Lena still being there were slim, but she had to try. Her legs moved before her brain caught up, she ran as fast as she could. She’s in pretty good shape, she runs almost every morning and does a lot of walking around the city, but tonight it feels like she’s running through sludge. Kara rounds the corner into the park at 8:43. While she managed to make the run in twenty-six minutes, she can already tell she’s too late.

The bench is vacant and Kara’s heart falls. She plops herself onto the metal and huffs in frustration. As her hand settles on the bench beside her, she feels something under her palm. Her fingers wrap around it and she brings it closer. It’s some sort of woven bracelet. Upon closer inspection, she immediately recognizes it. It’s one of the silly bracelets she made for her and Lena when they first became friends. They each had one. Lena wore hers, but Kara kept hers on the keychain Lena bought her on their first date alongside her apartment key. She pulls out her phone to shine a light on it. Sure enough, it’s the one she kept on her keychain. Right there in the middle of the bracelet are their initials.

Lena really had been here and Kara missed her chance. She sat there for a while. She’s not sure how long, but eventually she walks back toward her apartment. Without a care for the time of night or for how long it would take, she dejectedly makes her way home. Another chance stolen, her second chance lost.

Lena didn’t go into the office the following day. She couldn’t bring herself to face anyone. Her eyes were certainly swollen and her mind was in no condition to function properly. She sighs and rolls over in bed, her hand automatically reaching for the keychain she plays with every morning. As her hand settles on it, she pauses, something is missing.

Her body bolts upright, feet swinging to the side of the bed and hitting the floor with a thud. She snatches the prized item up and stares at it in disbelief. The bracelet that has been on the keychain for close to a decade is missing. It has to be at the park, she thinks. It must have fallen off when she was toying with it on the bench last night. She blows out a harsh breath. “Of course.” She mumbles to herself. “That would fit with the rest of my evening. Why not top it off with losing the bracelet?”

With that, she heads to the shower to remove yesterday’s makeup and grime. Maybe it will make her feel a little more human. Maybe it won’t. Either way, she has to get up and get cleaned up.

Across the city, Kara is suffering a similar fate. She wakes up feeling hungover. Emotionally, physically, and mentally, she is exhausted. After a phone call to her boss, she plans to work from home for the day. She’s not sure how much work she’ll get done, but at least she doesn’t have to face any people. At the very least, she can finish up the research for her upcoming interview with one of the lead scientists at Spheerical. The interview isn’t until Friday, so she still has plenty of time.

The thought stops her in her tracks. She knows Lena is in National City, so the chance of her seeing the beautiful genius is higher than it’s ever been. While she wants to see the woman, she also doesn’t know if she’s truly prepared for it. With this in mind, she pulls up the email from her boss to double-check the name of the scientist she’s scheduled to interview. It’s the same woman she interviewed previously, Felicity Smoak. The knowledge puts her at ease and she gets back to her research and preparation.

Both women spend the rest of the week trudging through the remainder of their daily grind with the enthusiasm of a doorknob. Neither of them have recovered from their experience on Monday and neither are really in the headspace to figure out how to move on from it. Lena is still in an immense amount of pain knowing the last spark of hope she had is well and truly doused. Kara is so angry with her sister and herself that she can’t think of anything else. It hasn’t yet occurred to her that she knows Lena’s email address is active and she could respond to the email and explain her absence.

It seems even after eight years, they still haven’t gotten their heads out of their asses.

After arriving at her office as usual, Lena spends her Friday morning reviewing budgets, new project proposals, and current project status reports. It’s the mundane part of her job as head of R & D that makes her want to pluck her eyeballs out. She’s just about to move on to the next proposal when her phone intercom buzzes to life.

“Miss Luthor…” The smooth voice of her assistant, Jess, echoes through the speaker.

“Yes, Jess. Go ahead.” Lena says, casually closing the proposal and grabbing the next one.

“Sorry to disturb you, Miss Luthor. Your lunch is here. Also, Miss Smoak asked if you can cover a meeting for her this afternoon.” Jess says, the sound of typing evident in the background.

Lena shifts in her chair. Felicity is the R & D manager for the National City branch and typically doesn’t ask her to handle anything unless it’s absolutely necessary. “What type of meeting and what time, Jess? I already have a meeting at 2:00.”

Jess sighs, she knows Lena’s schedule inside out so she is aware of the meeting, but keeps that information to herself. “She said It’s an interview for a science journal or magazine about the upcoming tech and prosthetic release. Miss Smoak had an emergency and won’t be here to cover it.” More sounds of muffled typing sound over the line. “The scheduled interview isn’t until 3:30 so it won’t impact your schedule in any way.”

“Thanks, Jess. Can you bring my lunch in? I’ll just have it at my desk.” She rubs the back of her neck, all of the tension and emotion from the week seems to have settled there. “Let me know when my two o’clock arrives.”

She spends the next two hours reviewing the rest of the documents and doing her best not to think about Kara and the sting of knowing all hope is lost. Her chest has been filled with a dull ache since the moment she realized the woman wasn’t coming. To say she’s used to it would be a lie, but she’s adjusting.

Across town, Kara leans back in her chair and reviews her list of questions, cross-referencing her research notes one last time before she packs everything into her messenger bag to head out. Her walk to Spheerical won’t take long, but she doesn’t want to risk being late so she gives herself plenty of time for any delays. She’s definitely a lot more nervous for this interview than the last one with Miss Smoak. This prosthetic is supposed to be cutting edge and is set to change the game for amputees. In short, it’s an article that could put her on the short list for another award, but her nerves aren’t related to any award. No. Her stomach is twisted into knots at the idea of possibly seeing Lena.

As much as she wants to push the idea from her head, the more she tries, the more green eyes seem to float across her thoughts. She huffs in frustration at herself and sets her jaw in determination to overcome her traitorous mind. By the time she enters the glass doors of Spheerical, she feels like she has more control and is ready to get to work. A widest, most charming smile gets plastered across her face as she approaches the reception desk.

“Hi! I’m here for an interview with Felicity Smoak.” Kara says as she hands over her I.D. and CatCo badge. “It should be under Kara Danvers for CatCo Worldwide Media.”

The young gentleman at the desk returns her smile and takes her information. A few minutes later, she is handed a visitor's pass and moved along to the elevator. Stepping into the elevator seems to increase the gymnastics inside her stomach so she leans back against the cool metal of the wall and takes a few deep breaths. By the time she has opened her eyes again, the doors are opening to drop her on the tenth floor. It’s the same place she met with Felicity the last time and it settles her nerves a bit. It’s familiar scenery and the same smiling receptionist.

“Miss Danvers, it’s good to see you again.” The receptionist smiles, standing to show her into the conference room across the hallway. “Go ahead and have a seat, she’ll be with you shortly. Help yourself to the refreshments.”

Kara grabs a bottle of water, deciding she doesn’t need anything that will make her any more jittery than she already is. She sits down and pulls her things out of her bag, getting everything settled for the interview. Her eyes and mind are so focused on her task that she doesn’t notice the door opening and closing.

The sound of footsteps breaks the reporter out of her focus. When Kara looks up, it is into all too familiar eyes, her favorite shade of green. Their eyes meet across the room, wide and shocked. Both of them momentarily freeze. It’s been 8 years since they last spoke or were remotely close to one another. Almost a decade since they went from the center of each other’s world to mere strangers in a quiet conference room. Hurt green eyes meet surprised blue across the large room. They stare at one another inside a building full of people oblivious to the world-stopping moment happening around them.

Amid the silence, Kara can see Lena’s face has gone ashen and her throat keeps bobbing with harsh swallows. Before they realize what’s happening, both of them are talking at the same time. Kara is out of her chair and speaking before Lena is even halfway to the table. The shocked scientist heads toward the table and does her best to keep her tone professional.

Once Kara realizes Lena is sitting in the chair with a no-nonsense look on her face, she plops herself back into her own and looks up. Azure eyes comb over pale features, finally settling on pain-stricken viridian eyes. They hold the stare for a brief moment before Lena straightens her back. Kara can see when the Luthor mask emerges from the pained features of the woman she loves.

“I apologize, Miss Danvers. Miss Smoak had to leave for a personal matter so she asked me to fill in.” Lena states with a matter of fact tone, no emotion and strictly professional. “I understand you’re here to talk about the new prosthetic line and the tech we’re releasing next month. It seems Miss Smoak allotted an hour and a half. If you have your questions ready, we can get started.”

Kara’s shoulders drop. She feels her eyes stinging with tears and isn’t sure if she can stop them from flowing. Lena is being crystal clear that she’s keeping this professional and has no intention of veering into anything personal. The reporter closes her eyes and takes a deep breath to center herself. She clears her throat, opens her eyes, and gets to work. “Of course, Miss Luthor. I’ll do my best to make this as painless and efficient as possible.”

The interview starts and things are a bit stilted. It isn’t until Kara makes one of her signature terrible puns that they both laugh and things settle into a more natural rhythm. Kara asks her questions and Lena provides the most detailed and honest answers she can without revealing too much. The reporter smiles and sits her head in her hand as she watches the love of her life gesture passionately about one of her newest inventions. It reminds her of all the nights they spent on their couch in their apartment sharing stories about classes and just life in general. She must have missed something the scientist said because she is broken from her thoughts when a hand lands on her forearm.

“”Hey, everything okay?” Lena asks, brow furrowed in concern. “I called your name several times and you didn’t respond.”

Kara nods her head, clearing her throat in embarrassment. “Y-Yeah. Yes. I’m fine. Just got lost in my head for a bit. I’m sorry.” She flashes a half-hearted smile and sits back to flip through her notebook. Scanning to make sure she didn’t skip any questions and counting the remaining ones, she looks back up. “Seems like we only have five more questions left.”

Lena watches her for a few more seconds, biting her lip as if to hold back from saying something. Whatever it is dies on her tongue as she shakes her head and gestures for the reporter to continue. They get through the remaining questions in record time. Kara gives a polite thank you and starts stuffing all of her items back into her bag. Once everything is packed away, she glances around to make sure nothing was missed and stands. Pushing her chair back under the table, she turns to walk away. For the second time in eight years, she’s walking away from the woman she loves. Just as her hand lands on the handle of the door, she stops and turns.

“I showed up.” Kara mumbles quietly as she fidgets with the strap of her bag, eyes fixed on her feet. “I was too late, but I was there. Just wanted you to know.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out the bracelet she found sitting on the bench. When she looks up and her eyes find Lena’s, she can see the surprise on her face. A broken smile barely lifts the corners of her mouth as she turns to leave the room. Before she can wrap her hand completely around the handle again, a cold hand settles on her warm skin. She freezes.

“You were there.” It’s quietly whispered. Like a leaf rustling in the breeze, it’s barely audible. Lena isn’t sure she can speak any louder, there’s a lump of emotion in her throat she’s been begging to stay put all week. “I waited and waited. Almost two hours. You never came.”

Kara spins around, her eyes wide with fear. She’s desperate to explain, panicked that things will spiral and she won’t get another chance. “Lena, I promise I would have been there sooner if I had known. Alex, she did this thing…I wasn’t getting your emails. Then she undid the thing…then I got the emails and I kicked her out, but I didn’t see the…”

She takes a breath and starts again. “Once I saw the email, I took off running. Lena, I ran as fast as I could and it should’ve taken thirty minutes, but I did it in twenty-six. And I was still too late.” Her face drops and tears sting her eyes again. This time she doesn’t stop them, she just lets them fall. If this is the last time she gets to be in the same room with Lena, at least it will be honest.

Green eyes observe with interest, she’s not really sure what Kara’s rambling about, but she has deduced that Alex did something. Blocked her email address, she thinks? Then she unblocked it and Kara got the messages. It’s still not really clear. A humorless laugh pushes through her lips, why doesn’t she just ask?

“Kara, I’m not really sure what you are trying to tell me. Can you slow down for a second and explain?” Lena asks, her hands involuntarily raising to wipe the blonde’s tears. When she realizes what she’s doing, she pulls her hands away and steps back. “Why don’t we sit back down? Sounds like this is going to take a while.”

So they sit. They talk about what happened on Monday and why Kara never responded to any of her messages over the years. It doesn’t fix things. It doesn’t make everything better. They still have a lot to talk about and a million things to sort out, but they’re talking. It’s more than either of them could have anticipated a few days ago. They make plans for dinner the following day and discover they both kept the same numbers just in case the other ever tried to call.

As they stand outside the elevator, getting ready to part ways, Kara lifts the bracelet up again, offering it to Lena. “I can’t believe you still have this. It was always attached to my keychain. It was the one you bought me on our first date, I always kept my apartment key on it.” She grinned down at the brilliant woman as long fingers plucked the bracelet out of her hand. Her eyes trace the movement of her other hand lifting something from her jacket pocket.

Kara’s jaw drops in disbelief. It’s the keychain.

“I’ve kept it with me everyday since you left. I’m not sure why. I think maybe it was my way of staying connected to you. Holding it always takes me back to places we went and things we did.” Lena shrugs, running her fingers across the ridges of the metal. “For a really long time I wished I didn’t, but I remember everything, Kara. Now, I’m glad I do.”

A teary smile spreads across Kara’s face. “How do you feel about starting over?”

Lena lets out a wet laugh. “Mmm, I’m not sure that’s really what I want.” She pauses to hold her hand to her chin, staring at the reporter. “Hear me out. Starting over feels like forgetting everything and starting new. I don’t want that. Our history and our past are what built us. What if we just talk things out and start again?”

“Yeah, I like that.” Kara smiles, tears slowly drying on her cheeks.” Let’s start again.”

“I told you, I remember everything. I want to keep it that way.” Lena smiles and presses a kiss to her cheek. They share one more smile. Kara disappears into one elevator and Lena into the other.

Things aren’t perfect and it’s not going to be easy, but they’re starting again. What more could they ask for?

#supercorp #supergirl #lena luthor #kara danvers #supercorp fanfic #fanfic #fan fiction writer #mac writes

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