#“oh... you in love with him... this is husband”

[sixeyesonathiel]

satoru fully expects you to call him when there’s a spider.

what’s the point of being the strongest if you’re not using him for pest control? why have a hot, powerful husband if you’re not going to scream his name at the top of your lungs when an eight-legged demon shows up uninvited?

he doesn’t care if it’s barely the size of a grain of rice. to you, it’s a monster. to him, it’s an opportunity.

because it always plays out the same: you’re brushing your hair, or putting on socks, or walking into the kitchen to grab a snack, and then you see it. and your entire soul leaves your body. you shriek like you’ve just seen the grim reaper. you scramble away like it’s chasing you. sometimes you even leap onto furniture, like this is some sort of olympic-level event. and satoru? oh, he’s beaming.

“babe,” you yell, already halfway up the couch, pointing like it’s a war crime. “it has LEGS. so many legs.”

“i would hope so,” he says, peeking around the corner. “it is, in fact, a spider.”

“kill it. exorcise it. vaporize it. i don’t care. just do something.”

and he does. with flair. sometimes with cursed energy, sometimes with a tissue, sometimes with dramatic narration like he’s on a mission for humanity. he’ll bow after. or toss it in the toilet with exaggerated solemnity. because the real reward is always you running into his arms after, all shaken and squeaky, eyes wide and demanding comfort.

“you’re my hero,” you sniff into his shirt, and he’ll cradle your head like he just saved you from certain death. like you didn’t just make him stomp on something the size of a button.

“you’d do the same for me,” he lies, already planning to weaponize this moment the next time he wants to hold you hostage on the couch for six hours straight, limbs tangled like seaweed.

so yes, satoru fully expects the honor of spider duty. because if loving you means battling the occasional creepy crawler to earn post-crisis cuddles, then consider it the highlight of his day.

[dannyriccsystem]

oscar would be such a girl dad, playing princess with his daughter and everything. taking her to the paddock and showing his little princess and his pretty wife around, 😔.

he would be so soft, i can't, i might die. 😭😭😭😭

btw how are you feeling? 🤞

— 🌱

UNICORNS AND CUPCAKES!

FORMULA ONE DRIVER X READER

SUMMARY: Oscar playing dress up with his daughter and wife, and then showing up to media day like that.

WORD COUNT: 800

WARNINGS: Dad!Osc, Mom!Reader, that’s it

FEATURING: Oscar Piastri x Reader

NOTE: HII! I’m doing good! Feeling a lot better now!

“OH DEAR, WHAT HAVE I WALKED IN ON?” YOU GIGGLE, politely covering your mouth as you admire the sight before you. Oscar is sitting at a table within the McLaren hospitality, your daughter sitting on a chair beside him. The young girl is messing around with the makeup you bought her for christmas. It had cars on it, and was designed for children.

The real kicker, though, was your husband, who was sitting there like an obedient dog while she painted his face in a rather bold look. Hot pink blush, bright red lips, and dark blue eyeshadow. He looked like he had a long night, to put it nicely. You didn’t mean to mock her skills, but there was definitely some room for improvement.

Despite your teasing, Oscar just smiled as a greeting. He was rather still as he allowed her to continue with her artistic ministrations, his heart melting at her joyous giggles. “I’m doing Daddy’s makeup so he looks good for the cameras!” She announced proudly, smearing purple eyeshadow on the inner corners of his eyes. “Doesn’t he look pretty?”

“He looks beautiful,” You said as you gently rubbed circles into her back, pressing a kiss to her scalp. “Wow, I’m falling in love all over again.” You tone was drenched in sarcasm, but there was some truth to your words. Seeing him allow your daughter to play, even if it meant sacrificing his own self image, was heart warming. You ruffled the younger girl’s hair before leaning in for a kiss from your husband.

“Ew!” She shrieked when you pulled back, your own lips now smeared in his bright red makeup. He laughed, which made your daughter pout. “Hold still!”

“Alright, I’m sorry,” He said in a jokingly exasperated tone. Your daughter rolled her eyes, sighing dramatically.

“He’s not a very good model,” She grumbled, making you laugh once again. “Mommy will you get my princess wardrobe out?”

“Oh, of course,” You replied eagerly as you rushed off to Oscar’s driver’s room, locating the small wooden chest. You dragged it out, opening it to where both your husband and daughter could see. The mounds of glittery, sparkly fabrics flowed free from the chest, spilling out onto the ground. You bit your lip to stifle a giggle at his face.

“I… Didn’t know your collection was so big, sweetheart,” He said, forcing a smile. Oh if only he knew what was coming for him.

“Wow, Oscar! That is quite the outfit,” A reporter remarks with a huge grin on her face, offering the microphone for his response. He sighed, and the sound faded into a chuckle.

“My daughter helped me prepare for media day.” His voice was monotone, but it was clear he just found the whole thing entertaining. If he didn’t want to do this, he could have said no, but he loved entertaining his little princess. Which is why he stood here now, a dress that was just a little too small for him slapped on top of his typical shorts and t-shirt. Atop his hair, which was pulled into two pigtails that were forming a headache, sat a pretty, sparkly tiara. “I gotta make this quick, though. I have a tea party to attend soon.”

“Did your wife put her up to this?” The reporter clearly found this whole situation very entertaining.

“No. You know, she’s pretty creative. Thought of all of this,” He gestured to himself head to toe, “all by herself.”

Oscar sighed playfully. “Oh, there are the suspects in question!”

He fully whipped around to look for you, immediately lighting up at the sight of you holding your daughter’s hand, pulling her through crowds of people as she giggled and chatted beside you. He had to pause to admire you, taking in your pretty glow with a fond expression.

He pulled you in for a hug and kiss when you got close, though you followed it by wiping your lips with a grossed out look. “There are my girls,” He mumbled before crouching down to kiss his daughter’s forehead.

“You’re gonna ruin your dress, Daddy!”

“You’re right, I’m sorry.” He stood back up, ruffling her hair. She huffed dramatically and fixed it, straightening out her matching tiara.

“Two princess in the paddock today,” The interviewer said as the camera panned down to your daughter, who grinned at the attention.

But Oscar’s eyes were on you. He couldn’t stop watching as you laughed with your child— His child, too. Under his breath he replied, “three,” with that lovesick grin of his.

Tired of the attention, he spoke again to divert the various eyes on him. “Sweetheart, why don’t we go see if uncle Lala wants a makeover too?”

“Yeah!”

With that being said, all three of you were off to torment Lando.

[bluukive]

ᡣ𐭩 Rise and Shine

summary - all you wanted was to see your husband smile

warnings - fluff then eventual smut, nsfw under the cut, explicit language, clothed grinding, Toji being a tease

wc - 932 words

an - I decided to make it purely fluff at the beginning for those who just wanted something cute-ish. Only keep reading if you are okay with reading explicit content <3

Poke.

Poke.

POKE. 

“Y’know, it’s so rude to ignore your wife like that,” you murmur sweetly, one gentle finger tracing the softening contours of your aging husband’s cheek. All four of your limbs are sprawled out as you lay on top of Toji, the blanket around you both creating an intimate, warm pocket of air which you didn’t want to leave. 

Toji’s broad chest rose and fell underneath you, and you could feel the steady thump of his heart beneath your palm. One of his arms is draped over the small of your back, the other behind his head as he keeps his eyes firmly shut. Toji isn’t sleeping, but he isn’t exactly willing to entertain his increasingly playful wife.

You poked his cheek once more.

No reaction.  

“Give me a smile, you grump.” A huff left you, lower lip jutted out as you cupped Toji’s face. Again, not a single movement. You’d think he was dead if not for the fact that you could see his eyebrows twitching in mild agitation. 

You squeezed his cheeks once, twice, before dragging the corner of his lips upwards into a makeshift smile. A mischievous glint appeared in your eyes as you rhythmically extended and squished his lips into a pout. If you squinted, there were slight indents where your fingers were pinching and pressing hard into the skin. 

Finally, Toji exhaled through his nose. “Woman.”

Your face lit up at the strained, exasperated word. “Man,” you mimicked, going back to pinching his cheeks. 

“Did you know that you pout in your sleep?  It’s a ‘lil scary,” you mocked your husband, sticking your lower lip out as far as you could when he decided to crack open a lazy green eye. Your actions warrant very little response and a deadpan look on Toji’s face, but the arm around your back tightens ever so slightly. 

An excited gasp leaves you when your husband decides to entertain you. “Progress is progress. You looked at me!”

“Don’t make me toss you onto the floor.”

“You’d never. You love me far too much to do that.”

You were met with silence at that statement. Toji wasn’t one to outwardly express his love, so you kind of expected him to grow quiet at your words. What you didn’t expect was the beginnings of a smile forming on his scarred lip as he let his eyes shut once more. It was a fond smile, one that was so incredibly soft and reserved only for you. You perked up, sitting up slightly to take in the sight.

“Oh? You finally smiled at me.” Toji let out a little grunt when you flopped back down onto his chest, your nose digging into the crook of his neck. 

“Keep quiet.”

“You don’t really want me to keep quiet, do you?” Your husband looks at you when you say that, taking in with restrained satisfaction how your body jolts at the sensation of his hands sliding up your nightshirt. 

“Never,” he muttered, voice low and scratchy. You simply look back at Toji, a finger reaching back up to poke at him again. 

“Fine by me.”

An audible swallow left your husband as he dug his fingers and kneaded at your love handles. It’s been years since you both tied the knot, but Toji was still able to catch you off-guard after all this time. Instinctively, your legs tightened around the sides of his waist. 

“Wanna poke me again?” He hums questioningly, the noise rumbling deep in his chest beneath you. But you can’t respond. Not when the two of you are shifting against each other. The friction between both of your hips is maddening, the air around you growing more heated. You shift again, lips parting as your shorts ruffle up against his boxers. 

Your husband watches it all with a keen eye, from the way your brows furrow to the sight of you gnawing at your lip. You could feel the outline of him fattening up beneath you, prodding at your clothed pussy. Toji knew what you wanted.

The rough, thick fingers on your waist begin guiding your movements in time with his. The slow roll of Toji’s hips have your head falling down, forehead pressed flush against his shoulder as soft pants begin spilling from your lips. 

“Grind on it. Get yourself off on me, sweetheart.”

You’d be a fool not to take him up on that. It’s so slow, so lazy and warm between you. A part of you wants to rush this foreplay into sex, where Toji folds you in half and nestles his cock deep into your cunt. But it was a quiet morning, and you were both sleepy. The sun was barely up, only the slightest hints of its rays peeking through the gaps of your curtain.

You were tired, but not just from the need to close your eyes. You were tired of pretending you didn’t want more. This time, you rock your hips against Toji’s with a purpose. His burly arms tighten around you, head tipping back when his clothed cock pressed right between your pussy through your shorts. 

“C-can we skip the teasing? Please, Toji?”

He merely tips his head back down, a cocky grin taunting you. “No, I don’t think we will. Keep grindin’ like the good, little wife you are.”

“That's not fair,” you hissed out, firmly planting your palms onto his chest. When you looked down, you could see it glistening with a light sheen of sweat.

Toji shrugs in response, giving your ass a condescending pat. “Who started this again?”

divider by @/strangergraphics

[bitters-n-sweets]

run an ex — michael "robby" robinavitch x fem!reader You and Robby run into your ex-fiance, who apparently is sorry for what he did.

warnings: implied age gap, we hate your ex-fiance bcs he cheated on you with one of your bridesmaids, robby being a supportive king bcs he knows you can handle yourself, fluff (this can be considered a continuation of take a break, but can be read on its own) masterlist

It was supposed to be a quiet night.

Robby had come home on time after his shift, even left slightly early so he could prepare for his date with you. You’ve been wanting to try the new place down the street that looked like a piece of Little Italy tucked into the neighborhood, like romance itself, glowing in the corner with golden lights and ivy-draped windows. Somehow, Robby had managed to snag a reservation.

He’d worn his navy polo and beige pants that you said made him look incredibly sexy, and picked up flowers on the way to your place.

You, on the other hand, had gotten ready, wore a nice silk dress, the perfume Robby loved so much, and smiled when he handed you the flowers. You put them into a vase before the two of you left, walking hand in hand into the evening.

Now, you’re sitting in a corner booth, still hand in hand, sipping wine while you wait for your food. The low hum of soft Italian music and the clink of glass around you in the background.

“How was work?” Robby asks, his thumb brushing lightly over yours.

You shrug with a small smile. “It was okay—oh! Speaking of work, my manager’s getting married next week. Will you come with me?”

“Of course,” he says without missing a beat. “Your manager, Hannah, right?”

“Yeah!” You light up. “You remember her?”

He chuckles. “How could I forget your work-wife?”

You laugh, nudging his foot under the table. “She’s basically my own Dr. Abbot.”

Robby raises a brow. “Are you saying Jack is my work-husband?”

“Is he not?”

Robby lets out a dramatic sigh. “He is. We’ve been married for six years. I’m so sorry you had to find out like this.”

You laugh again, and Robby just watches you, his own grin tugging at the corners of his mouth like he couldn’t look away even if he tried.

Dinner ends slower than it began, each course giving way to warm conversation and stolen glances. Robby pays for the bill even before you could reach your wallet, and you smile appreciatively while he winks at you.

You loop your arm around his as you walk out of the restaurant, and stop mid-way when the door almost hits your face.

“Sorry—oh.”

That voice. Cocky. Familiar. Just loud enough to cut through the warmth of the moment.

Your stomach drops before you even look.

Robby feels it—how your hand stiffens slightly in his—and follows your gaze to the man standing in front of you. He had changed his hair, but you’d still recognize him anywhere. Ethan. Your ex-fiancé. The Ethan who cheated on you with one of your bridesmaids six months before your wedding, who didn’t even have the decency to tell you himself—you found out through a half-drunk voicemail from her.

Ethan stops, eyes widening when he sees you. “I—I didn’t think I’d see you here.”

You straighten your posture, grip tightening on Robby’s arm. “Hi, Ethan.”

His eyes flick briefly to Robby, then back to you. He hesitates, “I’ve been meaning to reach out,” he says, stepping a little closer. “I—I owe you an apology. For everything.”

You don't reply immediately, just hold his gaze. He shifts awkwardly, trying to read your silence.

“You look... great,” he adds. “Really great.”

You take a deep breath. Robby doesn’t move, doesn’t interrupt. He just stands beside you, he knows you don’t need saving—but he’s there anyway.

“I’ve been thinking about you a lot,” Ethan continues, voice softening. “I messed up. I know that now. What we had—it was real. I want to try us again. A new start.”

You blink, before letting out a breath that sounds like a laugh. “No thanks.”

You try to walk past him, but Ethan steps in your way.

“Please,” he says, voice low and desperate. “Just… give me another chance.”

You stare at him like he’s completely lost his mind. “You cheated on me with one of my best friends, Ethan. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

He scoffs, like you’re the one being unreasonable. “Okay, and now what?”

“Now,” you say firmly, “you get out of my way and out of my life, because I’m actually happy.”

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping as his eyes flick to Robby. “What is he, your sugar daddy or something?”

Your eyes widen.

Robby makes a face that says ‘you're in trouble now’, and calmly holds out his hand. You hand him your purse without breaking eye contact with Ethan.

“What did you just say about him?”

Shit is about to go down.

You step toward Ethan. He instinctively backs up, the shift in your energy obvious even to him. Right on cue, the waiter opens the door—Robby slides a generous tip into his hand just for that—and Ethan, too focused on you, trips over the steps behind him as he stumbles backward.

“He’s none of your business,” you say, voice sharp and clear. “But for the record? Robby is my boyfriend. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. He makes me feel safe, wanted—loved. He treats me like I’m the most important person in the world. And I love him.”

Ethan’s brushing dirt off his coat, flustered, when Robby walks past—shoulder checking him just enough to make a point.

“Oops,” Robby says with a smirk. “My bad.”

You don’t bother looking back.

Robby laces his fingers through yours, guiding you down the street like none of it ever happened. Behind you, Ethan’s voice fades into the night, muttering curses under his breath.

You just smile and laugh with Robby, hugging his arm.

[for-a-longlongtime]

Queer fic rec - Joel jerking it to gay porn for the first time... that's it.

ANON!! I love this request. Fitting to be my first fic this Pride month 💜 Thank you for sending it to me, I hope you like this one!

Construction Corner - Joel Miller

Warnings: Explicit 🔞🔥 🏳‍🌈 Masturbation, watching m/m porn with deep throating, rimming, anal play, gay panic (momentarily), oral (f receiving), PiV. [Light editing] Word count: 2.6K

read on AO3 | main masterlist

Sarah is gone for the weekend, leaving Joel with some rare free time for himself. That’s how he finds himself here. Friday night with the curtains closed in his living room, a couple of Blockbuster rentals on his coffee table. The adult flicks come in white, unmarked VHS boxes - “for your discretion” - which is why he didn’t pay too much attention to what he grabbed; he knows the shelves that generally hold stuff he likes to get off to. It’s why he doesn’t wait to see the intro once he hits play, and instead gets himself another cold beer.

By the time he settles in on the couch, the camera has just finished panning over a construction site and is now zooming in on someone putting down lumber. “Can’t get away from work for a damn second,” Joel mutters as he takes a swig of his beer, contemplating whether to switch out the tape for another one - it’s not like he’s exactly thrilled to see yet more of a workplace much like his own.

The stunted dialogue doesn’t really register with him as he watches two guys talk - both dressed in jeans, the younger one without a shirt and clearly sweating as he’s holding a rotary tool. Craftsman, or Milwaukee, Joel guesses as he squints to make out the brand name. A little nagging voice in his head bitches there’s really no reason to whip out a Dremel tool for that pile of unfinished lumber on screen.

“Wouldn’t be there for that job,” he mutters to himself as he takes another drink of his beer, trying to stop himself from fact checking equipment in a damn porn movie. “And that’s not a quarter inch pip—OH.” He nearly chokes on the hoppy beverage, barely able to avoid a coughing fit as he stares at his television screen.

Young Guy is on his knees for Older Boss Guy, tugging down the man’s unzipped jeans and groaning as a seriously big dick is revealed to him.

For a split second Joel wonders if the kid at Blockbuster pulled a prank on him by swapping out the tapes. But, no - it must have been an accident with these unmarked VHS boxes. His instinct is to reach for the remote so he can turn off the movie and put in one of the other tapes. But his mouth goes dry as he watches Young Guy slowly lick the older man’s cock, the camera lingering on every detail. 

Base to tip, his tongue tracing the thick vein on that large dick, and oh - Joel bites his lip hard when he notices the man is uncut. Just like him. Thick but trimmed pubes, yet another thing he hardly ever sees in porn. Maybe it’s the novelty of that, or that it’s been a very long time that he’s seen someone’s mouth on a cock that - minus the length - reminds him of his own. But when he sees the younger guy greedily suck on the fat dick head, drops of saliva sloppily sliding down the length, he feels himself twitch unmistakingly in his boxers. 

By the time that cock is buried into the guy’s throat, Joel’s hand is on his sweats, stroking himself through the soft fabric - his heart racing a hundred miles an hour, as if someone could suddenly catch him in the act and ask him what the hell he was doing.

What is it exactly that he is doing?

It’s fine. 

This is fine, he tries to tell himself. He’s just… wound up. 

It’s been too long since he’s dated anyone, or even had a one night stand. The last time was with that pretty woman who kept flirting with him at Sarah’s school. After they hooked up, she told him that ‘technically’ she was still married, but she was no longer attracted to her husband - which was a level of drama he didn’t want to get into, especially not since their kids were in the same class. It had been over a year ago, maybe two at this point, as there was hardly any time to breathe between work and raising Sarah, and all the never ending chores.  

He just needs to get off. Really, really badly. 

That’s all. 

Rub one out quickly because he’s too tired to get up and change the tape. 

That’s all this is.

“Goddamnit.” He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath while staring at the tv, but when Young Guy cups Boss Guy’s balls in his hand, the air just whooshes out of Joel’s lungs with an embarrassingly loud sound. Both actors moan, and Joel’s breathing gets heavier when he sees Young Guy’s mouth travelling south, back down the throbbing length. Fuck. Is he gonna…

He watches the kneeling guy lick those heavy balls, teasingly and messily. He sucks one into his mouth, then tries to fit the rest of the ballsack into his mouth - and somehow, that is the thing that just fuckin’ breaks Joel and chases the last bit of hesitation out of his head. 

He pushes his sweats down quickly, cock hard and leaking against his stomach as he leans over to grab some lotion to help him out. The cool creaminess makes him hiss for a moment as it touches his hot skin, but as he generously spreads it over his dick, everything immediately feels so, so much better now that he’s giving into it. 

The tight fit of his hand around his cock is both relief and torture, and he roughly strokes himself up and down, matching the pace he’s seeing on the television. It has only been a few minutes, but he is achingly hard already, more turned on by porn than he has been in a long, long time. 

He gasps when the guy on the screen teases the other man’s foreskin, clearly riling him up and then backing off again - until he seems to have pushed him too far.

With a growl, Boss Guy grabs the younger man by his hair and tugs him up to his feet. But before Joel can be disappointed about the interrupted blowjob, the camera angle switches and shows Younger Guy being shoved back against the wall. Leaving no doubt about who is in charge, Boss Guy’s large hand is immediately wrapped around the base of the slighter man’s throat - not choking him, but nevertheless a clear display of dominance that makes shivers run down Joel’s spine. 

Young Guy whines as he stares back at the older man. His chest is heaving as he fumbles to undo his own jeans; not just pulling his cock out, but shoving his pants all the way down. 

“Please. Fuck my ass.” 

They’re the first words said during the movie that actually register with Joel, and his cock once again responds with resounding affirmation. On the tv, the guy is roughly being put on all fours, and then Boss Guy is on him like a starved man. Strong hands kneading his ass, spreading him wide to admire his hole - and when the Young Guy whines again, it’s because there’s a tongue up his ass and a hand firmly wrapped around his cock, starting to jerk him off.

“Jesus.” Joel’s breathing stutters as he’s enraptured by the view, his hips bucking up as his mind is reeling - hell, even imagining it. How it would feel to be pushed down like that and have someone eat his ass like that. Tongue, lips, fingers… He bites his lip hard as he watches a thick finger slip into the guy’s ass, making Younger Guy moan loudly, and all of a sudden Joel is mentally transported back to a holiday fling he’d had in his twenties. 

She - he couldn’t remember her name - was a lot more forward than he was used to. Barely an hour after she had made the first move at him in a bar, they were fucking at her apartment. She’d slipped the tip of her finger into his ass, right when he was about to come down her throat, making him orgasm so hard that he thought he was going to black out for a moment. It had been exhilarating, the shock of the sudden surprise lessened by the amount of alcohol he had consumed - and it had never happened again afterwards. He probably hadn’t even thought about it anymore… 

…until now. 

Until he watched the guy on the screen arch his back, drunk on pleasure as Boss Guy continues to eat him out and open him up. How Younger Guy grabs his own dick, starting to jerk himself off as he surrenders to how the other man handles him, getting him ready to get fucked. 

Joel’s breathing is heavy, hips thrusting up as he fucks his fist hard, unable to stop the thoughts that are suddenly embedded in his mind. Which one of the two guys did he wish he could be? The one getting the rimjob of a lifetime, or the older, broader guy who held him down and was about to take him?

He curses as the fantasy slams him over the edge much faster than he expected, and with a loud groan he spills his seed all over his hand and sweatpants, barely avoiding the couch. His heart races as he can’t tear his eyes away from the screen, seeing Boss Guy make the Young Guy cry out with his fingers buried into him - and suddenly it’s too much, all of it, right there. 

He fumbles for the remote and turns off the tv, his hand suddenly trembling. As post-nut clarity sinks in, he feels a wave of anxiety wash over him that he hasn’t experienced before. It crawls through his chest, flowing his throat and brain, shoving aside the euphoria of his orgasm. Scoffing at him about what he just did - about what got him so fucking turned on. The nerve wrecking doubt of whether he should report it’s the wrong tape when returning the VHS, or… not.

‘Just play dumb’, that little voice at the back of his brain whispers. ‘Do you really want to have a conversation with the rental guy about how you just got off to gay porn?’ 

He drains the rest of his bottle of beer, trying to shake the thoughts out of his head. But they only grow louder, questioning him (‘You hit your mid thirties and suddenly you’re into dick? Are you having an early midlife crisis?’ ), reminding him of all the times in an average week he hears gay slurs all around him. Mr. Adler’s vocal dislike “of those city boys”. Tommy’s asshole friend at the hardware store - shit, Tommy. What the hell would his brother think of him if he knew what he just jerked off to?

Another beer later, still trying to suppress the panic in his brain, he finds himself staring at Tess’ phone number. It’s been a long time since they last hooked up, especially since she’d been pretty seriously involved with someone for a while. But that relationship had recently ended - plus, in addition to living pretty close to him, she is one of the few people he knows who wouldn’t mind a last minute thing on a Friday night.

He sighs as he hits the dial button, his skin crawling when he looks over at the stacked VHS tapes on his coffee table. Sure, he doesn’t have to call her - but the other option is to just sit here and probably get more anxious about the whole thing. He just had to shake it off, spend some time with her, even if it’s just to reassure himself that *that* is what he is actually into.

“Hey, it’s Joel,” he says, eyes still closed and his head tipped back against the couch. “Yeah, all ‘s fine. What are you doing right now?” 

Her laugh, always somewhere between cheerful and mocking, sounds so good to him right now. As he suggests where to meet up, he can’t help but think back of the last time they fucked - it was also a weekend that Sarah wasn’t home, except for that time Tess had ended up at his doorstep. And in his bed, for most of those two days. He almost didn’t go into work that Monday, physically worn out, but god - it had been good.

This will be good, too. Drinks, then her place. No VHS tapes to think about or questions to ask himself.

 —-------

Somehow, less than two hours later, he’s right back on his doorstep again. 

The beer was good. Tess had been more than fine - that perfume he always likes on her had been calling his name, whispering all kinds of promises. Reminding him this was basically a done deal. It felt good when her hand moved to rest on his thigh after the second drink, her eyes much too observant as always, reading him like a book. “My place?” 

Plain, simple, uncomplicated and direct; Tess all the way. Exactly what he wanted. They made out in the parking lot, pressed against his truck, and when Tess had grabbed his hand and guided it into her underwear, he had lost all sense of restraint. 

Joel ate her out rough and fast on the backseat, groaning against her pussy when she came by his tongue alone. Once they made it to her place, they fucked in the bedroom, and it was good - but it wasn’t… the same as usual. 

Even when he was buried deep inside of her, that goddamn video was on his mind. How Boss Guy had been preparing the Young Guy to get fucked, opening him up with his fingers and mouth. And, Jesus Christ, he’d blown his load right into Tess before he even realized it. First time since he was a teenager that he had fucked up so badly. He’d been too embarrassed to stick around, even though she didn’t make a big deal out of it, and that’s how he found himself home again.

Shower, then bed, he decides - especially when his watch signaled that it was close to midnight already. He scrubs his skin hard in frustration with his body wash, leaving the shower on too hot for too long just to get distracted, but once he lays down in his cool bed, he finally feels more balanced. Ready for sleep.

Even after twenty minutes. Thirty.

He’s not sure what time it is when he goes back downstairs. 

The video tape is still in the VHS player, almost taunting him. As if it knows Joel better than he knows himself. 

“Just five minutes,” he tells himself as he settles in on the couch, turning the tv on and hitting play on the VCR remote again. 

Maybe ten at the most. 

Just to see if they do fuck.

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dividers by @saradika!

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[sunboki]

husband mimo has been… mmmrrgh. yeah.

husband! minho who, after a truly, honestly very wholesome night of nothing but kisses and cuddling—totally not with the entirety of his collarbones and shoulder littered in love bites, oh no—cooking up breakfast in the morning after.

husband! minho who, even after a frivolous night prior makes it his mission to prepare a meal to deliver to you in bed, oftentimes scolding the kitties scurrying about to be quiet.

husband! minho that curses under his breath in surprise after feeling your arms wrap around his waist from behind, lightly swatting at your hand with the spatula. (predictably, he melts when you rest your head against his back).

husband! minho that loves when you act as his little taste-tester. cookie batter that he brings to your lips, oh so focused listening to your feedback. the same goes for any recipe. dinner, lunches, soup or pasta. it goes a little bit like this:

“More sugar?” Minho mumbles, gaze trained on your face like his life depends on it, watching every little twitch as if scouring a book for that certain page. Like second instinct does he clock the pinch of your brow, already measuring more sugar before you can even give him the go-ahead.

husband! minho that, despite the teasing he’d receive from his members, loves to prop you on the counter and give you those occasional kisses. not as handsy and routine as chan, but more sporadic, savory. not as many chaste pecks, but more slow, coffee-tasting kisses where his palms cradle your cheeks.

husband! minho who, without fail, ends up as mushy as his last failed batch of cookies (that happened a year ago, he’d argue) when you kiss him. as mentioned above, he melts. melts into warm hums and soft giggles in tandem with yours, skin smelling like petrichor and a mixture of your own scent after snuggling up close throughout the night.

husband! minho who knows that familiar clumsy rhythm of his little girl’s footsteps to turn around just in time for her wide, excited eyes to connect with his, the two melding into a chorus of shared laughter they both try to muffle in favor of keeping you asleep. sometimes it works, other times you walk into the kitchen half-conscious, witnessing a rather chaotic display of determination in which your husband and daughter try to teach Soonie how to point to the correct ingredients they name.

it was worth the effort, that’s all you’re going to say.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[sergeantbarnessdoll]

Hi! I love your blog and your writing. Would you be interested in writing something about Bucky being like a teenagers dad? Something really funny, like bucky and y/n are having their Time together and they barges into their room getting really shocked, but also getting really protective over their mother but in a funn and "shocked" way something like the episode of modern family.

I really like thinking about Bucky as a teenager dad, and after Thunderbolts* I like it more, he is such a dad.

Thank you very very very much!

Joking Around » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

Pairings: Husband/Dad!Bucky Barnes x Wife/Mom!Reader

Summary: You and Bucky are joking around in the bedroom when yours and his teenage daughter barges into the room.

Warnings: none except Fluff

Written on my phone. My apologies for any mistakes.

Header made by @buckyys-babydoll / divider made by me

GIF IS NOT MINE! Gif credit goes to the creator.

You woke up to the sun shining through the bedroom window. You stretched and rolled over, smiling when you seen your husband sound asleep next to you. Bucky got home from a work trip in DC last night. You leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his cheek. Bucky hums and smiles in response. His eyes fluttered opened and he looked at you.

“I was having a dream that a beautiful angel kissed my cheek.” Bucky says, his voice raspy from waking up.

“How about that beautiful angel kisses your lips?” You softly suggested.

“I would love that.” He smiles.

You leaned down and kissed his lips. Bucky hums against your lips and rolls over, getting on top of you. He propped himself up on his forearms to keep himself from crushing you. You giggled against his lips when his beard tickled your skin.

“Your beard is tickling me.” You giggled, turning your head to the side.

“You never complained about my beard before, doll face.” Bucky smirks against your cheek before kissing it.

“I’m not complaining. I’m just saying.” You giggled again.

“If you’re just saying, then you won’t mind if I do this…” He says mischievously.

“Do wh-” A laugh erupted from your mouth when Bucky started tickling you.

You squirmed as Bucky tickled you. The blankets fell off of you and Bucky the more you squirmed.

“Bucky!” You managed to squeak out. “St-Stop it!” You laughed.

“Nope!” He said. “I’m doing this cause I love you and I missed you when I was in DC.” He says.

“I missed you too!” You say.

Bucky stopped tickling you when you said that.

“How much?” He asks.

You leaned upwards and kissed him softly and sweetly.

“Mmm, that’s a lot, doll.” Bucky says against your lips.

Without any warning whatsoever, yours and Bucky’s 16 year old daughter barged in the bedroom.

“Mom, dad, can we- EW!” Becky shouts, covering her eyes with her hands.

“Calm down, kiddo. We’re not doing what you think we’re doing.” Bucky says.

Becky playfully narrowed her eyes at her dad. Then she playfully pushed Bucky off of you and plopped herself in between you and Bucky.

“You can’t get to mom now, can you, dad?” Becky jokes, grinning at her dad.

“I can still reach her.” Bucky also jokes, reaching over her to touch you.

“No!” She jokes, pushing his arm away.

You and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh softly. Becky has always been protective of you since she was little, which Bucky completely understands.

“Ok, fine. You win this time, princess.” Bucky says, playfully poking her cheek.

Becky smiles proudly and hugs you.

“What were you and dad doing before I came in here?” Becky asks, looking up at you.

“We were just joking around, sweetie.” You tell her.

“Oh ok.” She replies.

“Did you want something when you barged in here?” Bucky asks.

“I was wondering if we could go out to breakfast.” She suggests.

“I like the sound of that.” You smiled. “What do you think, honey?” You asked Bucky.

“Sounds good to me.” He agrees. “I can treat my girls to a shopping spree afterwards.” He says with a smile.

“Can we go to the movies too?” She asks.

“Of course we can.” He says.

Becky squeals excitedly and gave you and Bucky a hug before running to her bedroom to get dressed. You and Bucky pecked each other’s lips before getting out of bed to get dressed. After getting ready, you two waited for Becky in the living room.

“Let’s go!” Becky says excitedly as she runs to the door.

You and Bucky smile at how excited she is. You two followed her outside to the car.

“I love you, dad.” Becky says as she buckled her seatbelt.

“I love you too, princess.” Bucky smiles. “And I love you, doll.” He says to you.

“I love you too, honey.” You say softly, pecking his lips.

“How about a little less kissing and more spoiling me and mom!” Becky says, making you and Bucky laugh softly.

-Bucky’s Doll

[watermelonlovershigh]

Chaotic Morning for the Styles Household🤒 🤢 🤮

AN: this tiktok (tw for emetophobes) came on my fyp and it inspired me to write this cute little sick fic. it's a super fluffy sick fic with tons of comfort in it. i hope you enjoy. my next fic i'm hoping to write a smut because i miss writing smut. so be excited for that. anyways, enjoy and make sure to leave your feedback. xoxo

This story contains: very brief mentions of sex, sick kid, fever, throw up, comfort

{ dadrry - husband!harry - softrry - au!harry - Josie > [Jo-see] }

word count- 1,421

Your normal morning routine of having a peaceful cuddle in bed with Harry before he has to get ready for work, gets interrupted when your daughter Josie comes into your bedroom complaining of not feeling well, which leads to other parts of your regular routine getting disrupted, making Harry ultimately late for work.

Every morning while Harry is getting ready for work, you and your four-year-old daughter Josie, wake up to greet him as he walks out the door. Although Harry has told you that it's not necessary to wake up so early just to kiss him goodbye, Josie is generally awake at that time anyways.

Normally after Harry's alarm goes off at five thirty am, you both have a few moments of alone time in bed, where you share cuddles, kisses, or occasionally a sleepy shag. However, today was different. Immediately following his alarm, Josie burst into your bedroom. You and Harry sat up, observing her as she approaches your bed while turning on the side lamp.

Josie reaches your side of the bed and softly complains, "Mummy, I don't feel very good." You glance down with concern and assist her onto the mattress, where she settles in between you and Harry.

Frowning, you question, "How baby?"

Harry reaches over to place his hand on her tiny forehead and is taken back with how hot her skin feels. "Oh love, you're burning up."

Josie turns to you with tired eyes and answers your question, "My tummy hurts and I'm tired and very cold."

"Oh no," you frown over at Harry, hating to see your baby girl not feeling well, before continuing on, "sounds like you might be coming down with a sick bug. How about we let daddy get ready for work while I take you to the kitchen to get some medicine? Hopefully that'll help you feel better."

Josie's so weak and tired that all she does is nod her head, too sick to put up a fight. Usually she hates taking medicine.

"Baby," Harry addresses to you, "r' you sure I should even go to work? I might need to stay home and help care for her." One thing that's clear about Harry is his unwavering commitment to you and Josie. He consistently places your needs above his or his job and is always willing to take off work or leave early when you need him, no matter the reason.

Shaking your head, you retort, "No, H. I can handle her today. I'm sure it's just a little virus. But if I need you, I'll call you. And I'll keep you updated on how she is throughout the day."

Hesitantly, Harry gets out of bed to take a shower, while you bring Josie to the kitchen to give her some medicine in hopes of reducing her fever and achy tummy. After she's taken her medication, you curl up with her on the couch and watch cartoons until Harry comes down the stairs, briefcase in hand, now dressed in his black suit and polished shoes.

You get up from the couch, holding Josie on your hip, and walk to the front door to say goodbye to your husband, a ritual you follow every morning. Usually, the house is filled with laughter and funny remarks, but with a sick child, the atmosphere is considerably quieter.

"Still think I should stay home." Harry argues with a frown. He hates when his baby girl isn't feeling well, and just wants to snuggle with her in bed all day.

"I know, but she'll be alright," you say, standing on your tiptoes with your lips pursed, wanting a kiss. Harry leans in with Josie in between the two of you, and softly kisses your lips. After stepping away, he keeps his arm close enough to caress Josie's warm back.

"Poor baby, wish you were feelin' better. Makes me sad when you're sick. How'r you feelin' now, m'little love?" Right after he asks her the question, a wet cough comes from her, and in an instant, Josie is throwing up over your shoulder and onto the floor. Rather than instinctively jerking her away, you opt to hold her steady, careful not to disturb her already upset stomach. You can clean the floor later, that isn't an issue.

You replace Harry's hand with your own, softly massaging her back as she begins to be sick once more. "Shhh, it's okay. You're okay." you whisper reassuringly. Harry stands next to you, briefcase still in his hand, feeling helpless as he observes his four-year-old in distress. Once she's finished puking, Josie releases a heart-wrenching cry. Being so young, the experience of throwing up is quite terrifying for her.

"Are you finished, baby?" Harry inquires, as he tenderly moves the hair that has become stuck to her sweaty face. Josie's intense crying makes it impossible for her to answer her daddy's question.

"I'll take her to the bathroom for a shower, and then I'll come back down to clean this up." you tell Harry, knowing he needs to leave for work or else he'll be late.

"Absolutely not." he disagrees, "You go take her to shower and I'll clean this up before I leave."

"But you'll be late." you spit back, not in a mean way but in a concerned way.

"I don't care if m' late. My daughter's just been sick on the floor and m' not gonna let you clean you, her, and the floor up if m' here to help."

To avoid further arguments, you nod and began bringing Josie upstairs to the master bathroom and remove both of your clothing. Her vomit has stained the back of your shirt and splattered on the heels of your feet. Motherhood has equipped you with the ability to handle such situations with grace. Before having Josie, this would have totally freaked you out, but now, you're cool as a cucumber, even if its gross.

After you've removed both of your clothes, you assist her into the shower and start to wash both her and yourself. Typically, you don't share showers or baths with her anymore, but given her illness, she requires the help and it wouldn't be practical to do so while wearing clothes soiled with puke. Plus, you're her mother, it's nothing she hasn't seen before.

-----------------------------

Downstairs, Harry has set his briefcase on the sofa while he collets the proper cleaning supplies to clean the floor. He makes sure to be extra careful not to get puke on his suit or else he'll have to change, and he doesn't have time for that. He's already gonna be late for work, but he doesn't want to add on to that lateness with something that can be avoided.

While Harry would like to say that being a parent has given him a strong stomach, this is not entirely the case. He can manage gross situations to some extent, but cleaning up chunky vomit off the floor is quite a challenging task. Regardless, he does it to spare you from the responsibility so you can focus on taking care of Josie.

Once he's cleaned and sterilized the floor to kill any germs, Harry secures the garbage bag containing the used paper towels and mopping pad and discards it in the outside bin. He then comes back inside and goes up stairs to ensure that you're both alright before he reluctantly leaves for work. What he finds makes him really not want to go to work today.

Standing in doorway of your bedroom, he catches sight of Josie in the middle of your bed, fast asleep, her wet curls scattered over the pillow. Then you, lying next to her, watching her as she sleeps. Harry quietly walks in and moves to your side of the bed. He leans down to give you a kiss and whispers, "I've cleaned up the floor downstairs. Poor baby, has she been sick anymore?"

Looking up, you respond, "Thank you, and no, just that once downstairs. I gave her more medicine so hopefully it'll stay down. But I'll call you if she gets sick again. Love you."

"That's good. And I love you too, baby. Love Josie as well. So much. Kills me to see her so poorly. But she's in the best hands. Best muma to my baby."

"Thank you, Harry. That's so sweet of you to say. Best husband and daddy to our little girl as well."

After saying goodbye one last time and leaning over the middle of the bed to place a kiss on Josie's warm forehead, he finally leaves for work. He'd much rather stay at home and cuddle his sick baby all day, but with you being a stay-at-home mom, he must go make the money that allows you the privilege to stay at home and not have to worry about working yourself.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

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My Masterlist Masterpost

[cinnxmxngxrl]

Hiiiii, oh my God, I love your stories so much. Could you do one about Harry Da Souza, where someone tortures the Reader, who happens to be his wife and the person he loves most in the world? And she gets scared to tell him the truth, so she just makes up some stupid excuse like 'I fell down the stairs.' Thank you, I luv youuuuu!

“Payback”

Harry Da Souza x Wife!Reader

Harry’s Masterlist

Summary: You can’t lie to your husband, he knows you too well. And when he realizes that you’re covered in bruises, he makes sure it never happens again.

WC: 5.6k

Warning/Tags: smut, minors DNI, violence, torture (nothing too explicit), blood and bruises, unprotected piv, oral (f!receiving), drugging, hurt/comfort, protective/vengeful Harry, implied murder.

You flinched when the front door opened.

It was just Harry. Of course it was just Harry. It sounded like him, after all these years of marriage you could recognize his footsteps by heart. And yet, you still jumped.

You were curled up on the far end of the couch with a blanket pulled tightly around you, hoodie sleeves tugged over your hands, collar yanked up to your chin to hide the purple blooming along your throat. Your ribs ached when you breathed. Your face throbbed. You didn’t even look at him when he came into the room.

“Alright, babe?” Harry’s voice was low, a little tired, a little rough, like it always was after dealing with the Harrigans all day. “You ate?”

You nodded, keeping your eyes on the TV even though you hadn’t registered a single word of the program for the past hour.

He moved towards you and you felt yourself tensing, not out of fear of him, never fear of him, but out of fear that he’d see. That he’d notice. Because you knew him, and you knew that if he did, all hell would break loose.

You’d told yourself you wouldn’t cry again, much less in front of him. But the second his hand touched your hair, gentle as always, the tears came anyway, no matter how hard you tried.

Harry crouched beside the couch immediately, cupping your jaw. “Hey. What’s this, hmm?” His thumb brushed under your eye.

You turned your face away before he could see the swelling. But you’d forgotten that Harry was the kind of man who noticed, he was trained to see this kind of things. To observe. His fingers found your wrist, and you winced in pain, quickly he rolled the sleeve up, and saw the dark purple bruise blooming across your skin, freezing at the sight.

“What the fuck happened to your arm?” His voice was quiet. Lethal.

Your throat closed. You opened your mouth and closed it again. Your lips trembled as you scrambled for the lie you’d settled on earlier, the one that sounded just believable enough.

“I fell down the stairs.”

Harry went so still it was like he turned to stone.

You tried to force a laugh. “I was rushing. Carrying the laundry basket. Didn’t see the last few steps. Landed hard on my side.”

He stood silent. His eyes swept over you with clinical precision, like he was reconstructing a crime scene in his head.

You should’ve known better. Harry had tortured people for hours, covered up dozens of bodies for the Harrigans. He knew bruising patterns. He knew impact angles. He knew lies.

“You fell,” he repeated, voice ice. “Down the stairs, you say?”

You nodded too fast.

He took a slow breath through his nose. “Take the hoodie off.”

“No.”

“Take it off.”

“Harry, please—”

“Take it the fuck off.”

You flinched again. That shattered him more than your bruises, the fact that you were so scared, so tense, that you almost seemed afraid of him.

“I won’t touch you,” he said, hands up. “Not unless you want me to. Just—please, babe. Please don’t lie to me.”

Your throat cracked on a sob. And then you pulled the hoodie off.

Harry looked. Really looked. At the bruises, at the outline of fingers on your neck, at the way you held yourself like your ribs were broken.

You expected him to yell or to punch something. But instead, he sat down. Just sat on the couch next to you, with his hands clasped between his knees. Breathing hard.

Then—very softly:

“Who did this to you?”

You wiped your cheek. “It doesn’t matter—” You didn’t want to cause more pain for Harry, you knew how much stress, how many sleepless nights, his job already brought him. And more than anything, you didn’t want to be the reason he walked into something worse, you didn’t want him going after some dangerous man for revenge.

“It matters to me.” His eyes burned now. With guilt and fury. “You think I can just look at this and let it go? You think I can see you like this and not kill someone for it?”

“Can we just let this go?” you asked, voice shaking, trying to blink away the tears already threatening to spill again.

Harry’s eyes flashed, his jaw clenched. “How the fuck do you expect me to let this go? Why won’t you tell me who did this to you?”

Your hands trembled. “I’m scared.”

He looked up, startled. “Of me?” He said, and prayed silently that the answer would be no, that you weren’t scared of him. The thought of you fearing him was something he couldn’t stand.

“No. Of—what you’d do.”

He reached for you slowly, and you let him this time. His arms went around you, his chin resting on top of your head, and you pressed your face to his chest, shuddering.

“I’ve never hurt you,” he said quietly. “Not once. Not ever.”

“I know.” It was true, Harry had ever hurt you. He had never laid a hand on you, never broken a glass or punched a wall in anger when arguing with you. Most of the time, he didn’t even raise his voice. Only when you pushed him too far… when your anger got loud enough to drown his silence, did he ever snap back. And even then, it was words, it was never violence.

“You’re my wife. You’re mine. No one touches what’s mine.” A pause. “And gets to go like nothing happened.”

You didn’t answer, and his grip tightened.

“Tell me who it was. Please.”

You hesitated, but you knew there was no way out of this. Even if you didn’t tell him, Harry would find out one way or another, that’s what he did for a living, tracking people down, piecing together what others tried to hide. So maybe it was better to just… make it easier for him.

“I—I think his name was Carlos, or something with a C. Said it was Jaime’s orders.”

You felt the change in him instantly. The way his whole body went tense. Silent. Calculating. Like a predator that’s just caught a scent.

“Did he do anything else to you?”

He didn’t say it out loud, he couldn’t even say that word, but you felt the weight of the question in his eyes. He was asking if the man had done more than the bruises he could see, If something worse, something unforgivable, had been done in places Harry couldn’t spot at first sight.

“No, no,” you shook your head. “Just roughed me up. Said you should think twice about whose side you’re on.”

Harry let out a slow breath, one he hadn’t realized he was holding. It wasn’t much. The bruises were still there, you had gone through something no one should have to go through. And the fact that he hadn’t been there to stop it, and that it was all becouse of the life he leads, made him feel like his chest was caving in. But at least it wasn’t that. At least that line hadn’t been crossed.

Harry kissed your temple. “You won’t see him again. I promise you that.”

The day Harry married you, he made his vows, to love you, to stand by your side in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, until death parted you.

But silently, just to himself, he’d made another one. To keep his world—the violence, the shadows, the blood—away from you.

And seeing you like this now… bruised, scared, hurt… he’d broken that vow.

“Let me make you a cuppa, yeah love?” he said softly, already walking to the kitchen without waiting for an answer.

He put the kettle on. Grabbed your favorite black tea. A spoonful of honey to make it extra sweet. And then, quietly, he crushed a little white pill and stirred it into the hot water until it vanished.

When he brought it back, he slipped onto the couch beside you, cradling you in his arms as you drank it all.

“Mmm… I’m so tired,” you mumbled, blinking slow.

“Yeah,” he murmured, taking the empty cup from your hands and setting it on the coffee table. “C’mon then, love. Let me take you to bed. You need rest.”

He scooped you up effortlessly, like you weighed nothing at all, even though your limbs had gone heavy and limp, dead weight in his arms from the sudden exhaustion and dizziness blanketing your body. He carried you down the hall and laid you gently on the bed, pulling the covers up and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You rest, yeah babe?”

You mumbled something, the words slurring with sleep. “Harry, why’s the room spinning?” You chuckled to yourself, half asleep. “… Or maybe it’s me spinning…”

A soft chuckle. Then nothing. Just silence, and your steady breathing as you slept peacefully.

Harry sat beside you for a long time, watching you sleep. He didn’t feel guilty about doing that, you needed the rest, your body needed it to heal properly.

And he needed time too. Time to find the bastard who did this to you, and make him pay.

“I’ll be back before you wake up, love.”

He turned out the bedroom light and closed the door behind him.

The warehouse on the docks had seen worse.

Drug deals gone sideways. Stabbings. Gunfights. Smugglers thrown into the Thames with bricks tied to their feet.

But tonight? Tonight, the warehouse witnessed Harry unleashed like he’d never been before. Cause tonight it was personal.

He stood in the center of the cold, concrete floor, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, leather gloves dark and dripping, soaked through at the knuckles. His chest rose and fell in steady, heavy breaths as he stared down at the man strapped to the chair in front of him.

Still twitching. Still bleeding. Still breathing. Barely.

“Now,” Harry said, calm as anything, crouching low until he was level with the man’s ruined face. His voice was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of silence that made men's hair on their necks stand up. “We’re gonna try this again.”

The man whimpered, his broken nose bubbling blood with every inhale, mouth split and leaking. A nasty cut curved above his left eye, still bleeding slow. His shirt clung to his chest in wet and dark red patches. His whole body shook so violently the metal chair scraped against the floor with each tremor.

“I didn’t know she was your wife,” he gasped, voice wet with pain and spit. “I swear, mate—it was Jaime’s orders, I didn’t—”

Harry didn’t blink.

“That’s not the part that fuckin' matters.”

He stood and reached behind him to the table, methodical, like he was choosing a kitchen knife for dinner prep. His fingers closed around a wrench — long, heavy, stained — the kind of weight meant to break things.

He turned it over in his hand, testing the balance. Not rushed. Not angry.

Focused.

“What matters,” he said, almost to himself, “is that you put your hands on her.”

And then he swung the wrench. One clean strike right across the kneecap.

The sound the man made didn’t even sound human, a ragged, raw scream that shot straight to the rafters and echoed through the space like a wounded animal. The kind of scream you hear only in horror films. The kind that lived in your throat long after it was over.

Harry just tilted his head, watching. Waiting.

The man sagged, sobbing. His leg trembled, blood seeping fast.

“I didn’t touch her like that—”

Harry’s voice was low. It was dangerous.

“You touched her at all.” He leaned closer, blood on his gloves now soaking into the knees of his trousers. “You looked at her. Made her flinch.” His lip curled. “Made her scared.”

There was something worse than fury in his face now.

Conviction. Just the steady, righteous burn of a man doing what needed to be done. What any husband would do in his place. What that poor bastard deserved for ever laying a finger on you. This wasn’t about revenge, no, this was about justice. Plain and simple.

“So now I gotta make sure she doesn’t feel that way again. Ever.” He stood again, wrench hanging at his side like dead weight. “And I’m real fuckin’ thorough when I make a point.”

The screams of the man echoed so loud it rattled the rafters. Harry just tilted his head, waiting for it to die down.

“You hurt her. You put your hands around her throat.”

His voice was low now, low enough that you’d have to lean in to hear it, like a secret, like a prayer.

“I saw the bruises. Counted them.” He leaned in closer, lips by the man’s ear. His breath warm but his tone ice. “Six on her arm. Four across her ribs. One on her cheek. Fingers around her neck.”

A pause. A beat of silence where even the man’s sobs quieted in fear.

“I see those bruises every time I close my eyes.”

The man sobbed again. Wet, ugly, begging.

“Please—please—Harry, man— I was just following orders, you know how it is.”

Harry snapped like a switch flipped inside him. He wanted him to suffer threefold for every second he’d made you hurt. Wanted his final moments to be nothing but agony and regret.

“You don’t get to beg.” His voice cut like a blade. “She begged. Didn’t she?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Part of him couldn’t bear to hear it, couldn’t stand the thought of you in pain, begging to be left alone, so he just drove the wrench into the man’s gut — once, twice — again, again — until the chair tipped with a metallic scream and the man collapsed sideways to the floor with a sickening thud.

Harry stood over him. Chest heaving. Gloved hands flexing like he was trying to hold something back and failing.

“I’ve buried men for less, you know that?” His voice was quieter now. Not calmer. Just colder. “But you—oh, mate. You’re special.”

Harry tortured people for a living, he made them talk, killed them afterward if necessary. He’d stopped flinching long ago. But this time felt different. This time it wasn’t because he had to, it wasn’t a job, a duty, a consequence of the life he’d chosen.

This time, he did it because he wanted to. Because some voice deep inside his head told him this was the right thing to do.

And this time… a twisted and sick part of him enjoyed it.

He crouched down again, slow and steady, but his eyes hid something dark behind them.

“You made my wife lie to me.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “You made her flinch at me.” His voice cracked, just a little. “You made her cry.”

He looked down at the man like he wasn’t even a person anymore. Because he barely was. So disfigured, so drenched in blood, he’d lost all trace of a human face.

“She was scared to tell me.” His throat worked. “Scared, after everything I’ve done to protect her.”

The man coughed up blood, sputtering against the floor.

“That’s the worst part,” he whispered. “She thought she was protectin’ me by keepin’ it quiet.”

His nostrils flared as he stood there. Silent. Controlled. But there was a knife in his hand now, those same hands that had held you hours ago gently, reverently, now gripped the blade like an extension of himself, steady and sure and ready to dive into the man’s flesh.

“You broke something in her,” he said. “Something I swore I’d never let anyone touch.”

Then, quieter:

“And now I’m gonna break you.”

⸻

Harry made sure no one would ever find the body.

The house was warm when you woke up.

You blinked into soft golden light pouring through the bedroom curtains and shifted in bed, just barely, against the deep ache in your ribs.

You didn’t exactly remember how you got to bed last night. The last thing you could recall was sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, Harry making tea. You probably fell asleep. Yeah, that was it, you must’ve passed out on the couch and Harry had carried you to bed.

You soon realized that you weren’t alone. For once you hadn’t woken up to an empty house.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed beside you, shirt off, hair damp from the shower. You didn’t know he’d been in the bathroom for at least half an hour, getting every last bit of blood off his body. He was watching you with that unreadable look he always wore when he was trying not to scare you. Not to make it worse.

“Mornin’, love,” he murmured. His hand reached for your face, so gently, knuckles brushing down your cheek like you were something fragile he didn’t dare hold too tight.

Your throat felt thick. “What time is it?”

“Half nine. You slept through.” A small pause. “Didn’t wake once.”

“Feels like I’ve slept for ages,” you mumbled, stretching your arms with a yawn.

“Yeah? Had a good night’s rest?” he asked, even though he already knew damn well how deep you’d slept. “You were out like a light, babe. Like a baby—” he grinned, then deepened his voice, “—or more like a bear.” He let out a dramatic, rumbling snore, trying to imitate you.

You laughed, shoving at his arm. “Hey, watch it. I do not snore like that.”

Harry chuckled with you, his smile softening as he looked at you… but then it faltered as his eyes drifted lower, toward your body, towards the bruises.

“I’m fine,” you said, before he could even ask.

“No, love.” He shook his head gently. “You’re not. You’re hurt. And you’ve got every right to not be fine.”

“You really gonna fuss over me like this for the rest of the week?”

“Month,” he said immediately. “Minimum.”

You laughed. It hurt, a little, but it didn’t matter.

“Do I get foot rubs, too?”

His brow arched. “Cheeky.”

“Blanket tucks, foot rubs, sponge baths—”

“Watch it, love.”

You smiled, finally meeting his eyes again. And this time when he leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, you didn’t flinch. You melted.

He traced the shell of your ear with his thumb. “I used to think I’d never have something good. Then I got you. And I promised myself, this one thing, this one person, I wouldn’t ruin.”

“You didn’t ruin me.”

“I didn’t protect you.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Maybe not. But I should’ve known better.” He bent low, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Just kiss me, Harry.” In this moment, you didn’t want to face his guilt or the weight of what had happened. All you craved was to feel your husband’s warmth, his electric touch against your skin, his lips pressing kisses all over your body as if you were something holy.

He does. He kisses you. Slow. Deep. Tongue sliding between your lips, hand cradling the back of your head like you might break. But you don’t break, the safety of him anchors you down like gravity.

When he lays you back, he takes his time. He pulls your shirt over your head, eyes catching on every bruise, every mark, like he’s memorizing them.

And something broke behind his eyes. A flicker, too quick to catch if you didn’t know him, but you did. You saw it. Felt it. That familiar heat blooming in the space between your bodies, in the tension of his breath, in the way his hips shifted against you. He was getting hard, you could feel him, thick and aching between your thighs, the same hungry need he always had when you were together, resurfacing like instinct.

But layered beneath the arousal was hesitation, the doubt. His eyes dropped to the bruises scattered across your skin, the ones he hadn’t caused but still felt responsible for. You felt his restraint like a wall between you two. He didn’t want to hurt you. Didn’t want to take you when you were already raw and wrecked.

You could see him fighting it. Fighting the urge to fall into you, to bury everything he was feeling inside your cunt, the only place that ever seemed to quiet his mind. And it wasn’t just the thought of causing you more pain he was afraid of, it was what it meant, that someone else had touched you hard enough to leave marks. That you were still here, still choosing him, bruises and all.

“Fuckin’ hell…”

“Harry,” you whispered. “It’s okay. I want this. I want you.”

He gives you the tiniest nod, letting his mouth follow down your body, planting soft kisses to your chest, your ribs, every single part of your body he can reach.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, like something scraped raw, like he was afraid the sound alone might hurt you. “Tell me and I’ll stop right away.”

You nod, your eyes never leaving his. “It’s not too much,” you whisper, the words trembling at the edge of your throat. “Your kisses… your touch… you. That’s all I need right now.”

His hands slip under your thighs, big and warm and deliberate, spreading them slow, reverent, like he’s opening something sacred.

“Let me taste you, babe.” His voice is thick, low and guttural, like it’s dragging up from somewhere deep.

You nod, breath catching, and he sinks to his knees, disappearing between your legs like it’s the only thing in the world that makes sense anymore, like he’s been starving for you, like your body is his only salvation.

His hands clamp around your thighs, rough and possessive, dragging them wider until you’re spread obscenely for him, open, vulnerable, dripping. He holds you there like something sacred and filthy all at once, like a gift only he gets to unwrap.

“Fuck, you're still the most perfect thing I've ever laid my eyes on,” he breathes admiringly, before diving in.

His mouth is on you in a second — hot, wet and starving. Tongue flat and greedy, he parts your folds with practiced ease, like he has done for years, burying himself in your cunt like a man possessed. A low moan rumbles in his chest, vibrating straight through you as he sucks your clit between his lips and into his mouth like he wants to bruise it.

The first flick against the nub makes your whole body jolt. His tongue circles it in tight, perfect strokes, worshipful and devastating, like it’s a holy ritual and he’s been praying for this.

He licks you slow. Deep. Long, deliberate strokes like he’s trying to memorize the taste of your sweet fluids, like your pleasure is the only thing anchoring him to the earth. His tongue slides through your slick with maddening precision, dipping his tongue inside you, curling like he’s trying to coax your orgasm out by force.

He groans against you like he likes the taste of your pleasure. Like every sweet sound you make is one less demon inside his head.

He doesn’t rush. He doesn’t even blink. His tongue is slow, devoted, merciless, dragging from your entrance to your clit with wet, obscene pressure, over and over, until your legs start to shake. It’s like he’s trying to rewrite the memory of every unwanted touch with the soft scrape of his beard, the drag of his lips, the sinful glide of his tongue.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, his voice muffled against your pussy, lips slick and glistening, thick fingers stroking your thighs like you’re made of porcelain. “Cunt so fuckin’ sweet. So soft. My girl. Mine to protect. Mine to worship.”

Your fingers slide into his hair, twisting hard, because the things he’s doing to you don’t feel real, it’s too good, too intense, too much.

Your hips roll helplessly against his mouth, greedy for more, chasing the unstoppable heat of his tongue with every trembling grind. There’s no rhythm anymore, just need. Desperate, aching need. You’re soaked, thighs slick and trembling, the muscles in your stomach tightening like a drawn bow. You can’t think, can’t speak, you can only breathe his name again and again, broken and full of heat, dragged from somewhere deep and aching inside your body.

“Harry.” It’s a whimper, but also a curse and a prayer you didn’t know you’d been holding in your chest, tumbling out of you like your body doesn’t belong to you anymore, because it belongs to him now.

“That’s it,” Harry murmurs against your cunt, his voice husky and thick, lips brushing your clit with every word. “Give it to me, love. Wanna feel you cum on my tongue.”

Your fingers tighten in his hair, fisting it hard, anchoring yourself to the only thing that feels real, his mouth, his tongue, his filthy worship.

You cum slow — hot and shaking — with a guttural whimper and Harry’s name spilling from your lips like a confession, like it’s the only truth that’s ever existed.

“H-Harry—oh my God—

Your body arches off the bed, thighs clenching around his head, hips stuttering as your climax crashes over you like a wave breaking all your pieces loose.

And when your breath catches, when your whole body spasms under him, muscles locked and fluttering around nothing, he just holds you there, mouth still latched to your dripping cunt, tongue flicking lazily over your clit, dragging out every last tremor until you’re whimpering like it hurts.

Too sensitive. Too full of him. But you can’t stop.

“Fuck, babe,” he groans, “you taste so fuckin’ good when you cum. I'll never get tired of it. I'm gonna put my mouth on you every single day for the rest of our lives.”

He pulls away from your cunt, but not before pressing a slow, lingering kiss to your inner thigh. His eyes meet yours, dark and hungry, beard damp and lips swollen from the taste of you.

“Can I be inside you?” he asks, voice wrecked. “Please. Need to feel your cunt around me. Need you to feel me. Let me take it all away.”

You reach for him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Yes. Please. Need you too. Need your cock deep in me.”

When you give him permission he fucks you like he’s trying to undo every bruise with his body. Like if he fills you deep enough, slow enough, hard enough, maybe he can erase the hurt someone else left behind.

His thick, massive cock broke you open like it always had, impossible to take but exactly what you needed. He groaned the moment your slick heat swallowed the blunt head of him first, the rest of his inches shortly after as he pressed forward until you were stretched to the limit.

His body is blanketing yours like he’s shielding you from the world, like every thrust is a vow and every kiss is an apology. Every moan from you is proof you’re alive, and you’re his, and you’re not broken beyond repair.

He’s gentle but firm, guiding his cock into you with unbearable slowness, letting you feel every thick, aching inch as he stretches you wide and deep to accommodate him.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathes against your mouth, voice strained and reverent. “You feel so warm. Tight as the first time. You've got the most perfect cunt, did you know that? Don’t ever wanna let you go.”

You sobbed into his shoulder, body shaking from the stretch, your nails digging into his back. “Harry—s-so big—”

“I’ll give you everything, yeah? All of it.”

His rhythm is unhurried, deep and possessive, but his hips grind into you with a punishing rhythm, not cruel, but consuming, raw with need, with love, with all the things he doesn’t know how to say with words. Your body arches beneath him, every nerve-ending stretched tight as he slams into you, the fat head of his cock dragging across every tender, sensitive spot inside you like he knows exactly how to wreck you. Because he does.

“Fuck—look at you,” he groans, voice dark and wrecked against your throat. “Taking it so good, babe. You—fuck—you love this cock stretchin’ you wide, fillin’ every fuckin’ inch.

He watches your face, watches the way you gasp and writhe, and the promise in his eyes is loud enough to drown everything else out:

“You’re safe now. You’re mine. You’re proper fuckin’ mine.”

His hands grip your hips, fingers firm but careful enough to avoid hurting you, his broad thumbs trace the edges of your bruises without pressing on them, like even the ghost of your pain makes him want to tear the world apart.

The care in his touch makes your throat tighten, your chest ache, your eyes sting.

You arch under him, slick and shaking, whispering his name again and again, and when you say, “Don’t stop,” it comes out as half-plea, half-command, like you’d die if he let go of you now.

He growls into your skin, lips brushing your ear.

“I’m not stoppin’. Not until you say so. Feels so fuckin’ good inside you.”

His hips slam forward again — deep, heavy — and you cry out, your back arching, your whole body shaking as pleasure swallows everything else.

“Do you like it, babe? You like having this cock fucking you full? Stuffing that little cunt of yours?” he moaned, voice rough, hips snapping harder against you.

“Fuck—I love it, Harry. Keep going.” Your voice broke halfway through, overwhelmed and needy.

“Say it again.”

“I love it—I love your cock, Harry—” you gasped, eyes fluttering. “Feels so good—so fucking deep.”

“Yeah, you do. Can feel your cunt squeezing me, so fuckin’ greedy—like she never learned how to take me.”

He buries himself to the hilt with a groan, cock stretching you full, tight around him, and he rocks into you like he wants to stay there forever, like the feel of your soaked cunt gripping him is the only thing keeping him from unraveling.

“Jesus, fuck—so good,” he grits out, forehead pressed to yours, breath ragged. “You feel like fuckin’ home, babe.”

He kisses your lips, your shoulders, your throat, your cheeks, anywhere the bruises colored your skin, like he’s worshiping the pain away, even while he fucks you like he’s trying to break the bed in half.

He fucks you through every sob, every tremor, every broken little sound. You’ve never felt so held. So taken. So loved.

“I love you,” he says, voice hoarse and breaking, forehead pressed to yours as he keeps pushing into you slow and deep, his cock pulsing inside you. “You hear me? I’d burn the fuckin’ city down for you.”

“I know,” you gasp. “I know, Harry—”

“Mine,” he groans, voice thick and breaking, driving his cock deeper, if it was even possible, one hand coming up to cup your cheek like you’re something fragile. “My wife. My fuckin’ heart. Gonna fuck you until you forget anything else ever existed. Gonna fuck the hurt right out of you.”

You sob his name, clutching his back, nails dragging down his skin in desperate lines, and he groans, low and wrecked, from the sting.

“That’s it, you always take it so good for me,” he hisses through gritted teeth, hips rolling deeper, hitting that spot that makes you see stars, the thick grind of his pelvis dragging across your clit with every brutal, perfect thrust. He’s not giving you a single second to breathe, not letting up, not holding back, and you don’t want him to.

“Cum for me again, love,” he growls, voice dark and low right against your ear. “Let me feel you. Let me feel you soaking this cock while it splits you open.”

And you do. It slams into you without warning, your body locking up, trembling, shattered around him as you cry out, loud and raw and wrecked because of him.

Your cunt tightens around him like a vice, soaking him as you cum hard, legs shaking, back arching. Your voice breaks into a moan so desperate, so ruined, it barely even sounds like you anymore.

“F-Fuck—Harry!”

He doesn’t stop. Not when your body’s still trembling, cunt still fluttering around him like you’re trying to pull him even deeper. He keeps grinding into you, slow and brutal, his cock thick and hard and so deep it feels like he’s carved himself into your body.

"Ohh—gonna fuckin' fill you up, babe,” he whines. “Gonna stuff your little hole so full of me It’s all you’re gonna be feeling for days.”

Harry follows you soon after with a guttural moan that came straight from his chest, slamming into you one last time as his hips jerk and still. His body goes rigid, chest heaving, fingers digging into your thighs like he’s holding on for dear life. He’s cumming hard, hot and thick inside you, the warmth spreading deep in your walls with every pulsing spurt.

“Fuck—fuck, love—” your name tumbles from his lips, tangled in a curse and a prayer, like he’s trying to give you everything he has.

He stays inside you after. Doesn’t move. Doesn’t let go. Just breathes with you, his body wrapped around yours like an armor.

You both lie there, slick with sweat, his chest rising and falling over you, like ocean waves. Your thighs still trembling, his arms locked tight around your waist. His cock is still buried inside you, softening gradually, his cum drips out of your hole where you two are connected, wetting your thighs, staining the sheets, but neither of you move. There’s no rush. No need to.

The silence is warm and heavy with breaths and sweat and safety, it wraps around you like his arms do, strong, unyielding, safe. The only sound is your mingled breathing, your heartbeat slowly syncing with his.

His fngers trace slow, lazy circles against your hips, in reassuring and grounding little motions, showing you his wordless devotion.

“How do you feel?” he asks softly, his voice barely more than a rumble against your skin.

You bury your face in his neck, inhaling the scent of sex and sweat and something undoubtedly him. You press a kiss there — small, shaky, real.

“I feel… good,” you whisper, voice thick with emotion. You felt good in a way you didn’t think was possible after what happened, not so soon at least. Good in a way that felt like being rebuilt.

His arm tightens around your waist, pulling you even closer, as if he could tuck you under his skin.

“Good,” he echoes, but his voice breaks a little, like he’s the one who needed to hear it the most. “That’s good.”

You don’t say anything else. You don’t have to.

You just lie there, wrapped in sweat and each other, and a silence that speaks louder than anything, the kind of silence that heals.

A/N: To the person who requested this — thank you so much for your kind words🩷🩷 It means so much to me. I truly hope you enjoy this story just as much as the others, and thank you for your patience, it took me quite some time to get through this fic, but I’m finally content with it.

The fic I’m working on rn is a request I got for a forced marriage with Alfie, so yes… Alfie is coming back soon!!!(probably will have it finished sometime next week)

dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

[pricesprincess]

Can you do one with the reader ovulating, not wanting to get off John? I love your writings!

18+ explicit smut + reader is ovulating

Your body was changing and you caught the subtle shifts of it. Tender breasts, scents have changed, and slight cramping. Also, you wanted to fuck John from the time you woke up to the time you slept.

You knew what it meant.

Ovulation week.

It was circled on the wall calendar that John walked by each morning and that man was a menace if anything who loved to tease his sweet little wife. So, that morning after a shared cup of coffee, he helped you dress, his fingers trailing up your arms with a deep chuckle.

"What are we doing, baby?" You asked with a slight pout as he kneeled in front of you to help slip your shoes on, his blue eyes locked onto your heated gaze with a lazy grin. John silently stood up and kissed you tenderly, but it had your pussy clenching around nothing.

Your husband was quiet as he guided you out of the house, his hand settled on your lower back, sometimes drifting down to your ass that he squeezed loving when you backed into his greedy palm.

John was a gentleman, always has been.

But during your Double O, which meant ovulation and orgasm week, as you call it, seeing John do the most mundane things had you sweating under your clothes like you spent all day in the sun.

His scent tripled when you got a whiff of it, and he was even more handsome, which seemed impossible but whenever you stared at him, all you could think about was drowning him in your cunt, letting him get you off until you couldn't speak or even think about anything.

He catered to you like he always did, and it made you all giggly, like a schoolgirl with her very first crush. You linked your arm with his when you both walked inside the mall. "Baby...are you getting a haircut?"

What an evil husband you have.

His hair was getting a bit shaggy and while you love it on him, you also love how short and cropped it usually is, but he made sure to make it long enough for you to pull on when he's eating you out.

John answered with a smile and nodded towards the hair salon right next to the nail salon next door. "I'm gettin' one and you can get your nails done all pretty so I can see them later wrapped around my cock." His vulgar whisper had your thighs clenched together.

He kissed your cheek and checked you into the salon, already having an appointment before he paid in advance with a tap before he left, kissing you again, which made your tummy flutter.

All the women in the shop gushed about your husband, but all you wanted was his dick however you could have it, inside your mouth, cunt. Hell, you wouldn't even care if he smacked you with it.

You settled in the chair and let your mind drift to what John would have planned tonight. He was a man who knew how to please a woman and you felt like the luckiest wife ever to have him as a husband. An ache bloomed in your gut as you wished they hurry.

As soon as your nails were done, you bid everyone a thank you and a smile with a wave before making a mad dash next door to run into John, your face pressed into his chest. "Watch where you're goin' darlin', could run into the big bad wolf." He chuckled, holding you.

You looked at him with a sultry smile. "Oh, sorry, sir! I didn't even see you there; I was thinking about my husband. You see, he is so sexy and good to me, I have trouble thinking about anything else." You giggled and wrapped your arms around his neck, swaying.

"Oh? Well, you might need to tell me about your husband so I can replace him." John replied, making you laugh. He hooked his arm around your waist once you moved and guided you to his car.

Between his haircut and his scent, you found yourself in the backseat with your dress bunched around your hips as you sunk down on his fat cock, feeling him stretch your cunt to accommodate his girth.

John tucked his face in your tits, letting you use him as a human dildo. "Can't get enough of me, huh? S'okay darlin', use me." His words spurred you to create a nasty symphony of wet squelching and moans as he bared your breasts for him to play with.

You whined when he hit your sweet spot, turning your cunt into a dripping mess of slick and spit. Before you ended up in this predicament, you sucked him off while he fingered you.

It was only supposed to get you off until you made it home, but after the first orgasm, you wanted more of that and John.

With his cum smeared on your thighs and your panties tucked in his pocket, John drove him with your face in his lap, sucking off the mess you made, unable to get enough of him. When you got home, you pushed him on the couch and dry-humped him until you came.

That night during dinner, you sat perched in his lap, his cock nestled deep inside you as you both hand-fed each other dinner in the candlelit kitchen.

All the lights were off, bathing the house in darkness.

For dessert, John had you spread out on the table and his face between your legs, cleaning the mess this time.

In the morning, before he left, you woke him up with a blowjob that had his toes curling. During his shift, you would send him charged messages and pictures of the things you did around the house and you always made sure to give him a view of your naked body.

"What a bloody tease." John murmured, knowing his dick and fingers and mouth wouldn't get much of a break. But he didn't mind it one bit.

comments and reblogs are really appreciated. <3

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reaction to their s/o giving them a drink after an argument, then taking it back when they apologize

Request: OT13’s reaction with their s/o giving them a drink after a argument then immediately returning it when they apologize

(i've been seeing this couples on tiktok that their wife/gf giving some sort of like ☕ or juice or smth then ✨ suspishusly ✨ returning it back after their husband/bf apologizes, like they be grabbing the mug and saying smth like “dont drink that, its not good for you, I'll make another one” as they mischievously grin and sprint to the kitchen) (let's just say my single and lonely ahh is feeling jealous of them people on TikTok and really need to feed my delusions and imaginations saur let's just say I immediately 🏃🤸 to ur requests when I found it was open when I stalk your account, I'm willing to wait, baby, take your time in making it, boo 🫡😉)

A/N: Oh, I love this! I think I’ve seen this trend before — it’s that one where the partner mix something into the drink out of fake spite bc they’re mad, but then right before their victim takes a sip and apologizes, they snatch the drink back with a cheeky/guilty, “wait, don’t drink that. I’ll make you a new one.” 😭 It’s all petty couple-core thing, and I’m so here for it! XD

Immediately suspicious but lets you cook — Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Minghao

He takes the cup slowly, eyes narrowed, sensing your suspiciously calm aura. He’s just muttering, ...what’s in this? to himself, when he finally breaks and apologizes. And just as he lifts it to sip—yoink. You snatch it back with a sweet, “that’s not good for you. I’ll make another one” and vanish. He just sits there in stunned silence like, “...???” He doesn’t even get up to chase you. He just accepts the psychological warfare with a little confused (?) smirk. You win this round, babe.

Apologizes with puppy eyes… and gets personally offended when you take the mug — Jeonghan, Joshua, Seungkwan

He thinks it’s a peace offering and melts the moment you hand him that drink, apologizing so sincerely that it makes your heart feel guilty a little. But when you take the mug back with a grin and a, “you weren’t gonna drink that, right?” He gasps, and clutches his chest like he’s been betrayed and poisoned. “You tricked me with affection?? HOW DARE.” He dramatically follows you to the kitchen, whining the whole time like a scorned kitten. You better give him a new drink AND forehead kisses or he’ll bring this up every. single. time you fight from now on.

Fully thinks he’s being poisoned but drinks it anyway — Jun, Woozi, Vernon

He squints at the cup, looks at you, then back at the cup. “You’re not still mad?” You smile, shrug, hand it over. He knows something’s off, but he drinks anyway because, hey, love is about trust [and maybe a little risks]. The moment he says “I’m sorry,” though, your hand’s already snatching the mug. “Don’t drink that. I was mad. Spit it, I’ll make a new one.” He stares at you blankly, “...what was in it?”

You: Just regret.

Him: 😐

You: 🏃‍♀️

He’ll never trust tea time again, but he’ll always love you for your unfiltered guilt and love inducted honesty.

Takes your sass very personally but lowkey lives for it — Hoshi, Dokyeom, Dino

Was already on edge from the fight, so when you handed him a drink with a fake-sweet smile, he whispered “thank you...” like you were going to poison him with your air alone. Then you’re like, “oh wait, that’s not good for you. Let me get you a better one *insert that angel emoji; I can't find it*” and yank it out of his hand as he’s drinking?? He chokes. Literally. Gasping. “WAIT, WHY— WHAT’S WRONG WITH IT??” He starts over-apologizing to win the actual drink back, trailing behind you like a kicked puppy. But he saves this moment in his head as ‘proof you still love him to not let him drink bad drink or die or whatever.’ Next time he annoys you? You better believe he’ll be like, “are you mad? Can I have that suspicious tea again? *insert angel emoji again*”

Genuinely confused. Actually just wanted the drink — Mingyu

He holds the mug with both hands as it it’s a sacred truce; he's just dramatic af. He says “I’m sorry,” and right as he’s about to sip—gone. You stole it like a gremlin, with a gremlin smile. He blinks, “...babe?”

You: I’ll make another one.

Him: 🥲 ...But this one was right here.

He looks so heartbroken it makes you second-guess your little act, but when you peek back from the kitchen, he’s just hugging a throw pillow, muttering, “why would she play me like that… what did I do…” [MINGO IS JUST SO CUTE!!!]. You better return with an extra cookie and like, three kisses. He was ready to marry you over that orange juice.

[eraserbread]

welcoming your husband, nanami, home from work with a little help from your toddler ✧

→ f!reader, toddler dad nanami, sfw

"daddy homeeeeee!"

"rin, wa-

zooming out of your lap like she hasn't seen him in years, rin is so full of energy you just spent the last two hours trying to drain from her. it's late afternoon—exactly her nap time.

your plan was to get her down before kento came home, but that's long forgotten. just like you, curled up on the little toddler bed your husband built.

when you're sitting up, your heart beats harder in anticipation. after all these years, you're still excited to see him, and your daughter is your carbon copy—you can't blame her. walking into the hallway, you hear him before you see him—the front door clicks, and he laughs. rin squeals.

"daddy!"

"hi, my darling! oh- careful, remember to keep fingers away from the door."

before he's even in the house, rin is blocking him, little hands pulling at the gap to open it further. "daddy, what doin'?"

"i'm saying hello to my little girl. what are you doing, rin? did you have a good day with your mother?" like a narrator, kento drops his work bag and scoops his daughter in his arms, big hand covering the entirety of her neck as he pulls her in for a welcome-home kiss.

you're watching them with a soft smile, leaning against the wall in the hallway, when he notices you. he gives a little sideways smile, steered back into conversation when rin sees his loving gaze falter.

"we colored... and play outside..." she begins, attention drifting off into space as she fixates on his tie. she's too distracted to see the quick glances you two are sharing. "n we play dressup. mommy wore pretty dress like princess."

"did she, now? did you take any pictures to show daddy?"

"mm-mm." she declares with a shake of the head, fitting hands making fists in the luxe fabric. "wan' it."

"oh, you want my tie?" as whipped as he is with you, he's even more gullible for his baby girl. one hand works it loose from his neck, arm barely flexing as he balances her in one. halfway off, he resorts to his teeth, pulling it loose and draping it over rin's neck—moreso her small shoulders. then, he turns, giving that split second of distraction to you.

"we missed you today," you smile, biting your lip as you approach them. she's so taken with her daddy's tie that she jumps when you approach, hand ruffling the slick part in her pigtailed hair.

"i missed my girls, too." his voice softens as you two stand so close that your breath becomes one. it's just a force of habit for him to lean in and press a kiss to your lips. like always, he lingers there for a second, brushing his nose against yours and smiling into your soft lips.

when rin wants her dad's attention again, she reaches out to pull at his shirt, pouting like it was her full-time job. "daddy, I don't wan' take nap."

kento chuckles against your lips, then pulls away, giving his daughter that fake stern stare he always gives you when your attitude rages. she reaches up, forgetting about the tie, and squeezes his cheek.

"oh, no." he replies, voice jumbled and muffled from her hold on his face. "we're taking a nap."

"did you see that link i sent you?" you ask, leaning against the counter as kento sheds his shoes—popping a few buttons on his dark blue shirt. "about her pre-school, it's expensive, but when I toured it-

"we'll get her signed up."

"i- thanks. also, ken-

"dada!!"

as he unlinks his cuffs and pulls his sleeves over his forearms, rin sprints out of her room with a stuffed bear in her hands. it's one she's had since she was a baby—torn and scuffed from constant love.

"yes, beautiful?" at his feet, she rises to her toes, waving it for him to reach and grab. "oh, thank you. I'll take good care of him."

and, she's off again. you watch her trip over her tiny bare feet, making a beeline back to her room.

"ken, she has to go to the doctor for an exam before she can enroll, I've been calling arou-

"daddy!!"

"yes, princess?" this time, at his feet, rin is waving a silver plastic tiara, tiny fist locked in the straight fabric of his pants. "oh, am I the princess?"

"dada wear." she states like she's on a mission, staring up at him sternly with those identical hazel wide-eyed stare.

so he does without further question. he combs his slicked hair back with his hand and slips the thing right over his head. you giggle, stifling back more as you cover your mouth. he's shameless—much less serious about himself since he's entered this phase of fatherhood. you love this way of being so much on him. it's like he's finally free from his burdens. but, you know the truth. he's only so carefree around his daughter.

"how do i look, hm?" he reads rin's stance—both arms stretched high like she wants to be picked up. she doesn't have to tell him twice, he's leaning over with a grunt, scooping her back into his safe arms. "am I a pretty princess?"

"no-

he gasps—fake as hell, but emotive enough to draw a series of innocent giggles right from his favorite source. "oh, I forgot—the prettiest princess around is my little nanami rin, hm?"

"mama!"

kento pulls her close for another kiss on the cheek, moving her to his side to carry her off to her room. you're just glad he's willing to subdue her to sleep today. she'll drift off in seconds if it's him at her side. "mm, no. mama's much more of a queen who rules with an iron fist."

"wha's that mean?"

[sakura-wisteria]

Your Cub FOREVER

It had been a few years. The cub, once no taller than your knee, now stood at your stomach. Still covered in soft brown fur in parts and human skin in others reminding you of his similarities with you but enhancing your differences, still with those wide, blinking eyes seeking your praise—but there was something deeper in them now. Awareness. Attachment. He was no longer a toddler. Not quite a cub anymore. But not yet the beast his father was. “Mama,” he said one morning, appearing in the kitchen doorway with an armful of wildflowers and a wooden rose. “I made this for you.” You blinked at the strange and random offering. The flowers were crushed and mismatched, and the rose was going to join the others on your dining table. “Oh. Thank you,” you said, taking the bundle with careful hands. He watched you, ears twitching. “You smiled more when I was smaller.” You paused in thought. “Did I?” He nodded. “You pet me more back then. Held me.” You gave him a blinding smile one only an adoring mother would give, brushing a hand over his ear. “You’re bigger now, my cub. Harder to carry.” “But I’m still your cub,” he said, eyes narrowing just a little. “Right?” “Of course,” you said, voice steady. That seemed to satisfy him—for the moment. He leaned into your side, nosing under your stomach something new he's been doing. The top of his head almost reached your chest. Later, that night… You found something odd after dinner your bears had disappeared. The cabin was always tidy—your cub liked it that way, just like your husband—but tonight, the front door had scratches around the frame. Fresh ones. Outside, nothing stirred. Not even the wind. Your breath fogged in the cold air as you stepped out. Something watched from the tree line. Eyes. Bright. Animal. But… not. Not the usual eyes that watched you, not the eyes you now liked to watch you, someone... or better yet, something different watched you care for the garden that day, it was back again this time at night without your cub or husband to protect you. Before you could call out, a voice growled from behind you. “Mama…” You turned. Your cub was there. He walked towards you in his human form, eyes glowed faintly gold in the moonlight. His claws twitched. “You went outside.” “I—” “You smelled like fear.” He stepped closer. “Did someone come too close?” “No,” you said quickly. “I was just checking—” “You don’t need to check. You stay inside.” You tried to soothe him, brushing your fingers along his cheek like you did when he was younger. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.” He melted into the touch, pressing into your palm like a cat starved for affection. “You always say that,” he murmured, voice muffled against your neck, “but Papa said Mama before tried to run. That’s why you couldn't play outside with me. You might disappear.” Your blood ran cold. You hadn’t thought about before, before you were your cubs mama. But now you never have to. He looked up at you with that same childish affection… and something darker. “But I won’t let you go, Mama. I love you.” Behind you, branches snapped in the forest. You didn’t need to turn to know who was there. The father. Your husband. Watching. Silent. Smiling. You were theirs. Your cub's mother. His Wife. Forever.

[hey-itsdollie]

can I request hcs/drabbles with Sae, Shidou, and Rin, as fem reader’s friend from uni being invited over to the house for some family party? Irl my family is very into my social life and I have two younger brothers (freshman in hs) who are obsessed with any male I bring over. Would replace me if they could.

And then maybe if reader gets alone time with the friend downstairs in her room teeny sneaky make out😏😏😏 this is so weirdly specific I do sincerely apologize. Thank you for considering my rq! <3

A Family Party

sounds exactly like my family, but my older brothers couldn't care less about who I bring over</3

‧₊˚ ┊ In which you invite your friend to a family gathering!

୭˚. ᵎᵎ featuring » sae. shidou. rin.

⋮ ⌗ ┆cw ⪼ fluff, female reader, suggestive, aged up!, use of pet names

── .✦ Sae Itoshi

“Thanks for coming along, you really didn’t have too.” You smiled sitting in the passenger seat of your friend’s car as you finally parked outside your family home. Cars that belonged to family members and friends were parked along the driveway and street.

“No problem, I’m sure your family is lovely.” Sae spoke, turning the car off. He was dressed in a white dress shirt and slacks, you were dressed in a comfortable dress. You told him he didn’t have to dress up but it was second nature for him.

“Uh right about that… before we go in I need to run some things by you okay?” You turned to him in your seat giving your full attention to him. His eye brow raised at how you were acting. It was like you were preparing to give him some game plan.

“Okay so, they are very very nosy. Especially my siblings.” Letting out a sigh you shook your head. “So I’m apologizing in advance…”

“They can’t be worse than the media.” He shrugged in response. You gave him a side eye before getting out of the car. Well you tried to warn him.

The moment you two stepped into the house your parents welcomed you both. Your mother giving you and Sae a hug along with your father doing the same–sneaking in a hand shake with Sae. “Oh my, are you my daughter’s boyfriend?” Shooting your attention to your mom you quickly waved your hands denying her assumption.

“No mom!”

“No ma’am, sadly, I haven’t caught her eye.”

You stared at Sae in shock, not believing you heard your friend right. Before you could ask about it your siblings came in, suddenly appearing in front of Sae.

“Uh hi…” He awkwardly glanced at you. You shook your head, “These are my two younger brothers B1/n and B2/n (brother 1 and brother 2).” Sae listened to your introductions and nodded. “I’m Sae, Y/n’s friend.”

It wasn’t long before your siblings dragged Sae off to some other room in the house. You stared blankly as they hadn’t even greeted you. Their own sister.

“Oh my, was he already taken away by the boys?” Your mother frowned with her hand against her cheek. With a nod you turned to her and hugged her again.

“Missed you guys.” You murmured as your mother hugged you back. “We missed you as well dear, so is he?”

With a groan you shook your head at the older woman. “No mom, he’s just a friend.” Your mother noticed the red tint on your cheeks as she hummed with a smirk.

“Yeah sure, come help with the food. Your aunt and I could use some help.”

Some time passed, most guests had left. You went looking for Sae, noticing you hadn’t seen him since dinner. Feeling bad that he came with you, yet you barely spent time together.

Just as you walk downstairs to the game lounge, you spot the red-head laying on the couch. “My brothers finally left you alone?”

Sae moved his head to look at you, his head leaning back against the couch cushions. “Yeah…”

You laughed, never seeing him so tired before. Sae straightened up as you walked and sat beside him. “I tried to warn you… so were they worse than the media?” “Would it be rude to say yes?”

“Nope.”

“Then yes they were…”

You grinned gazing at him. “Well it wasn’t any better for me, everyone thought I brought home my future husband… My uncle even poured me a glass of alcohol to celebrate.” You shook your head still not believing the events that happened earlier.

“Future husband?” Sae repeated turning to you. The thought was appealing to him. Sure he never brought up the tension between them. But he wasn’t opposed to the idea.

“Yeah, though I don’t think you would want to be pulled into this hectic family.”

“What makes you say that?” He questioned moving closer to you. “Huh, well you saw how they are.” You tilt your head not understanding his calm words.

“Yes, I saw how they were, I didn’t see anything wrong with it. They were welcoming.”

“You mean to tell me you enjoyed the assumptions and questions from my family?” “Yes, I did.” You froze from his words. Sure, Sae was blunt but he was never this straight forward.

“How clueless can you be?” He groaned, cupping your face and placing his lips onto yours quickly. With widened eyes, you were too surprised to react. Sae pulled away, staying close enough for you to feel his breath fan against your lips. His eyes seemed to darken searching for some long lost answer in your eyes.

After a few seconds you leaned in and kissed him again. Your lips moving against each other, pushing as if you two were fighting out your feelings.

“Is it late enough to leave respectfully?” Sae questioned pulling away panting. You smiled nodding, “Yeah… I think it is…”

── .✦ Ryusei Shidou

After days of begging, you finally agreed to let Shidou come along to your family’s party. Only if he promised to not act weird or have any outbursts. You were sure your parents would put him outside like a bad dog.

As the two of you were walking up to the front door, you were going off the agreed rules you had made for him to follow for the night.

“No your mom jokes or anything inappropriate.” You glared at him, the male groaning. “Okay mom! God, you act like I have rabies or something.” “Hey, you still haven’t been tested yet!” You shot back, making him shoot you a look.”Hey, I only get tested for one thing~”

“You are so gross, shut up.”

Laughing Shidou followed you inside, you rolling your eyes internally praying for him to be on his best behavior.

Your mother came up to you quickly, engulfing you into a tight hug before freezing slowly turning to look at Shidou. “Huh?” He raised his eyebrow at her. You sensed he was about to say something out of pocket and grabbed his arm tightly. “Mom, this is my friend Shidou.” You introduced your mother, smiling, pulling him into a smile as well. “It’s great to meet you dear, thank you for coming.”

Shidou seemed shocked that your mother didn’t question his eyeliner or looks in general. Considering he didn’t look like a high scoring student.

You dragged him around as you greeted other guests and family members. When it came to your brothers Shidou grinned. The two younger boys were climbing and trying to tackle him to the ground outside. You stood off to the side smiling and laughing at the sight.

“Yeah, get him on the ground!” You ordered laughing at the sight of your friend struggling.

“Hey! Who’s side are you on!” Shidou shouted accusingly.

You looked away pretending to whistle as he kept shouting. Finally your mother called the boys in as you sat on the swingset your parents had in the backyard. Shidou crawled to the other swing and sat down panting.

“Why in the hell did you crawl?” You questioned looking at him weirdly. He shrugged “Felt like it hoe.” he replied simply.

You shot him a glare, Shidou retaliating by sticking his tongue out at you. “You are such a child!” “Ahh you mad”

You two both laughed at your words, swinging and enjoying the night breeze. “You seemed to have fun with my brothers.” You hummed making Shidou let out  a huff, “They’re wild animals! I see where they get it from.” You shot him a look as he raised his hands in surrender. Shidou stood up, going behind you and pushing you on the swing. “Jokes aside, your family is incredibly welcoming. I didn’t receive a single weird look all night. I mean you might’ve but I didn’t.”

“Hey!”

“Thank you for letting me come.”

The silence between you was enjoyable, the only noises coming from the creaking of the swings. “You know… your brothers called me your boyfriend.”

“Oh, did they?” You question not feeling weirded out. The two of you often get mistaken for a couple–and you’d be lying if you said nothing has ever happened between the two of you. I mean you’re both in college… you go to parties, get drunk, and things happen. Though it never went further than making out.

“I could get used to this…” Shidou stated with a smile as you leaned your head back to look up at him. Shidou met your gaze and leaned down kissing you slowly.

Shidou pulled away gazing at the look in your eyes. “You’re so beautiful, doll…”

You got off the swing and the two of you went behind a tree in the yard, away from anyone who decided to go outside. Shidou had you pinned to the tree kissing your lips as if he was a starved man. His hands running down your body, grabbing at different parts as if to check you were real. “Can we go? I mean I could always take you here and now… I wouldn’t mind putting on a show…”

── .✦ Rin Itoshi

Rin stood awkwardly behind you, his hand gripping a part of your dress. Listening quietly as you talked to your family members. Introducing him with a smile on your face.

You had asked him to come along to a party your family was hosting, having nothing better to do–and not being able to say no–he agreed to come along. Saying if it got annoying he’d just leave.

The woman seemed to surround you making assumptions on yalls' relationship. Each comment of you two being something more than friends hitting him deep, forcing down the heat on his cheeks. Your father gave him a hand shake and a pat on the back, offering him a drink–to which he denied politely–and offered him to come and watch a game with him sometime.

The more time he spent around your family the more he realized how close you were to them. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous. Sure he had loving parents but his relationship with his brother was the least bit loving.

“Oh, the boys are outside, apparently having a match to see who’s better.” Your mother laughed softly as she informed you where your siblings were located.

Excusing yourselves you pulled Rin excitedly to the backdoor, wanting him to meet your younger siblings.

Rin saw your younger brothers kicking a soccer ball around, calling out different moves and saying “goal” every now and then. The sight reminded him of how he and his brother used to be.

“Did you bring your boyfriend sis?” one of your brothers questioned running up to the two of you, completely forgetting the game of football. “He is not my boyfriend.” You sighed tiredly. The younger boys stared up at Rin, the older male staring back down at them. Awkwardly looking away not knowing what they wanted.

“Can you guys quit the staring?” You groaned knowing Rin felt uncomfortable as he grabbed part of your dress again.

“Are you Rin Itoshi?” one of them questioned. You slowly looked at them not knowing they knew of him. “Yeah we saw you on tv!” Rin looked back at them not knowing what to say, only muttering out a small “yeah…”

Rin was not expecting to be pulled to the yard and having a ball kicked to him. “Let’s play a match!”

You sat in a chair watching the three play a 2v1 match of football. “Hey, this doesn’t seem fair, I can-”

“No you’re bad at football sis.”

“Yeah you always trip over the ball and get hurt.”

You froze at your siblings' words, it was obvious they liked Rin more. You glared at them, shaking your fist in the air at them comically, “Hey I’m decent! Right Rin?” Rin avoided answering you as he kicked the ball up and was bouncing it on his knee.

After their match was over you and Rin went up to your old bedroom, needing some quiet from your family and siblings.

“Can’t believe you didn’t back me up earlier!” You exclaimed with a frown, Rin walked around the room looking at your old knick knacks from your childhood. “They weren’t wrong…” He sighed. You glared at him.

Rin went and sat beside you, the bed dipping slightly. “You were attached to my hip all night.” You laughed thinking back. He huffed looking away, blushing. “I was not…”

“You so were.” You tease looking up at him. “No wonder so many mistook you for my boyfriend.”

Rin turned to you and the sudden eye contact startled you. “It’s only natural…” He replied, tilting his head slightly. You blushed from his tone. “What is?”

“That we’d be a good couple. Others expect it from us…”

You caught on to what he was saying, noticing his hand hesitantly moving to yours. You took his hand into your own and kissed him. Going for it hoping it was what he was wanting. Rin was shocked yet still managed to kiss back, his face burning almost matching your own blush.

The kiss lasted a few seconds, the two of you pulling away breathing softly. His eyes went from yours to your lips, bringing you back into another kiss. This one being way more passionate than the last.

Rin whined quietly, as you pulled away panting softly. You laughed softly from his needy noise, “We can’t do this, my whole family is down stairs…”

“Then let’s go home.”

©hey-itsdollie please don't copy, change, or steal my work. Thank you!

[coucouatoi]

you sunshine, you temptress | h.s.

Pairing: Harry Styles X Reader

Warnings: smut, Harry likes you calling him by his title (kinky lil shit), misogyny, slutshamming, flufffff

A/N: the tags make this seem so much more intense than it is... but this is set in the regency era... have fun!

the bridgerton collection

Summary:

Dearest Reader, as you may know some unions begin with roses and others with thorns. It appears the Duke and Duchess have managed both. Whispers flow like chiffon in the gentle breeze, whether love or ambition binds them together... that is to be seen. Rest assured!

This author has her eyes, ears and ink pots open to every thread that may unravel from their gilded love.

Yours most attentively,

Lady Whistledown

The sun has finally reached that point in the day where everything it hits is perfectly golden. Just before it sets, letting the moon prepare to shine in its dark sky. Another day has passed, and your stay in London is getting shorter by the second. Your husband, the Duke of Redditch, had no interest in staying with the ton in London after your wedding, which has already passed. He knows how everyone views you and your nuptials so he's not keen on staying much longer. He's expressed his frustrations with the men at the club and told them all to correct their nosy wives and jealous daughters. His title aided in how seriously they took his demand but not all men are invited to the club and most women are utterly in love with Lady Whistledown's lies.

You can't win against her or her words. She's tainted your reputation as a pure lady with her previous accusations; that you threw yourself at the Duke to entrap him.

The one thing you do have and what everyone envies you for is a title, not just any title you're a Duchess. It's only a slight advantage that it comes with a very handsome husband, of course. A husband who is utterly obsessed with you. He adores ravishing you, your body, any chance he gets. He spares no expense when it comes to adorning you, opulent jewels around your limbs, expensive fabrics that he sews into the most beautiful gowns for you to wear.

Above all else, he loves to watch you. Much like he is currently; Harry's eyes don't leave your form as you are sitting at your vanity getting ready to join him in bed. Your maid is delicately undoing your hairdo and you wipe your face clean with a damp cloth.

"I'll help her finish up, you may go rest" Harry's soft voice breaks the previous silence. Your maid nods before curtsying and then walking out of your shared chambers.

"Doing a maid's work? How scandalous of you, Duke Styles" You smirk as you watch your husband walk towards you in the large mirror. He only shrugs as an answer as he gently starts to untangle the shiny jewels that were nestled in your updo.

You smile to yourself as you keep washing your face and neck. You like to feel fresh before sleeping... but you have a feeling your husband isn't going to restrain himself, not tonight.

His nightwear or lack thereof is distracting you. He only wears thin cotton trousers, his upper body exposed and oh so pleasant to look at. The sunset's golden rays make his skin glow, his toned arms and torso look carved out of stone - no, marble. You have spent hours deliberately tracing every dip and curve of his body. Memorizing every scar, every freckle, the veins that poke out of his skin... He's oh so gorgeous.

"Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?" You lock gazes with him through the mirror, the honey-yellow glow in the room not hiding the sudden flush that overtakes Harry's skin.

"No, I've never gotten that one" he mutters out quickly as he reaches for your hairbrush.

"What have you gotten then?"

"I usually get mysterious, handsome, dashing... compliments in that style" his more posh composure has taken over again, trying to distract from his original flustered expression.

"Mh... I need to call you pretty more often then, or beautiful, rather, because you are" You nod to yourself, making a mental note to remind him just how much you love his appearance.

"It's not just your physical beauty my lord, you are incredibly smart and kind. You've never treated me lesser than because of my previous title, god, Harry you sew me gowns! From your own hands! There's nothing more beautiful than you" You let out a big breath after speaking, having overthought what to say and letting it out quickly.

Harry's hands stop their careful detangling with your brush and he meets your gaze again. So many thoughts are going through his mind, his eyes soft but his face tight. His eyebrows are furrowed and his lips pursed.

"You are much more beautiful than I, my dear wife" he starts, "Your flattery only proves that..." He places your hairbrush back on the vanity in front of you and bends down to speak into your ear.

"I have yet to show you your newest gown, some of my best work yet" he gently kisses the back of your ear before pulling back.

"Another?" You spin your head around to look at him directly.

"For Lady Danbury's ball, my dear, I want you to shine the brightest", he places both of his hands on your cheeks, "you are my Diamond after all" he smirks in triumph. He never lets you forget that he managed to bag the Diamond of the season, no matter how your relationship began.

"When will you let me see it?" You grab onto his wrist, balancing yourself onto him as you swing the rest of your body around to face him fully.

"Only on the day of, I have not finished it yet" Harry bends down to peck your lips delicately as they form into a pout.

"Mh... don't you want me to try it on? What if it doesn't fit right?" he tsks at your statement.

"I know your measurements perfectly by now, love" he pecks you again before walking back to sit on your shared bed.

You huff in dissatisfaction, he's only recently begun making you wait to show off his works of art and it's infuriating! Your pout deepened making him laugh.

"Such theatrics, my love" he starts, "Tomorrow we will promenade together before going to the foreign stalls they've opened in town. Then, the day after, we will have you all dolled up and ready to dance the night away. In my arms, of course, straight after that will start our journey to our Redditch property" he pats the space next to him, beckoning you over to him.

"You won't even bring me back here to help me out of my gown?" you say in a disappointed tone as you join him.

The plush mattress and covers under you immediately have fatigue wash over you, ready to burrow yourself into them. Harry's very picky when it comes to comfort you've come to realize, not sparing one expense for a softer and fluffier comforter or pillows filled with the rarest feathers.

"If you think the carriage is small enough to prevent me from... enjoying our time together you've greatly underestimated me" he wraps an arm around your waist pulling you against him.

"Maybe I have..." you tease with a bite to your bottom lip.

You used to be shy about desiring him and his touch, having thought that these thoughts were shameful. You remember how embarrassed your mother was when she first spoke about coupling with you but she thought it important to warn you. Harry, however, has made sure to help you discover this part of you. To assure that there is no shame in wanting to touch, to be touched. It's been a grand time for self-discovery.

"I'll just have to keep showing you just how much joy we can bring each other" he smirks before placing a tender kiss on your lips. "What do you want tonight? Whether it be pleasure you however you desire or merely to soothe you into slumber, I am at your service"

You take a moment to look at his face. To take in the last few rays of golden sunlight glimmering in his eyes.

"What's going through your mind, my dear wife?" he trails his fingertips on your cheek, up and down to the back of your ear and to the tip of your chin.

"Will you let me try being on top of you again?" your lips form into a pout, preventing you from biting your lip in embarrassment.

"I would let you do anything to me, you should know that by now" He presses his lips to yours in an instant.

Your hands instinctively bury themselves in his hair, tugging at his curls, desperately pulling him closer to you. His hand leaves your face and grabs onto the back of your neck, somehow deepening the kiss further. His other hand tugs the hem of your sleepwear up, revealing your legs to the room and to his wandering hand. As soon as the fabric is tugged all the way up to your waist Harry wastes no time, immediately spreading you out.

A desperate whine leaves your lips when he makes contact with your core, already damp in anticipation. You break away from the kiss, your head dropping back in pleasure, he always knows exactly how to unravel you.

"Such a gorgeous sight you are my duchess" Harry's voice has deepened in arousal. His lips trail down your neck; gently biting and kissing at your skin.

You push down the fabric covering your breast inviting his attention to them. You feel him smirk against you as he moves down to give them the attention you want. Only placing his lips around your left areola to begin, teasing you as he always does.

"More Harry" you whine as his touch ghosts at your entrance, teasing you even further.

"Tsk, you've lost your manners" he scolds playfully as he moves back up to connect his lips to yours. His teeth grazing your bottom lip slowly, a shudder making its way down your spine.

"Please, My Lord" you manage to finish your plea in a way that pleases him, if the fingers breaching inside you are anything to go by.

One of your hands lets go of his hair and shoots down to grip his wrist. Not stopping him only holding, feeling the way his forearm flexes, the loving thrusts he paces perfectly to ready you properly. Never wanting to pain you, rushing is something foreign to both of you. Why rush this?

You do start to lose patience quickly tonight, ready to try your best once more on top. You know you won't be able to last very long, your legs are not used to holding yourself up as you take him. You softly push Harry back, laying him onto the silk sheets under both of your bodies. His fingers leave you. Trailing up your body slipping the thin fabric of your nightgown up to finally rid you of it.

"So gorgeous" he praises you as his eyes stay locked onto your figure. Your body now straddling his waist, you ache with anticipation as he is still covered by his linen trousers.

"You always look at me so intensely" you gasp out as you gently start rocking your hips, only gently humping him for now.

"How could I not? You are a true blessing from above, an angel sent down for my keeping only" his hands grip your waist as he speaks. As his praises seep into your skin, carving into your heart and soul. His hands don't guide or try to help he knows that you want to truly try, he simply holds you. Holds to steady himself through his own pleasure.

You tug at his trousers, desperately needing to feel him inside you, your neediness only multiplying with every single word that he speaks, with every single touch on your skin. Harry helps you pull them off of him to then carelessly toss them to the floor.

"I want to make you feel good my Lord" you moan as you start rocking on him again. Your bare skin touching his, the maddening feeling only amplifying now that nothing is keeping you from him.

"You always do, I've never been left unsatisfied by you" Harry grabs one of your hands, the one that was grabbing onto his pectoral, and brings it to his lips. Soft kisses, delicate swipes of his tongue on your fingers, on your palm. Hypnotic, arousing, intoxicating.

You lift yourself to, finally, slip him inside of you. Breaching yourself in your most favourite of ways. Allowing yourself to succumb to your deepest desires; the deepest ones you've ever felt. Your hips seem to take control with no regard to your mental pause. The haze that's has installed in your mind as you take in the feeling of your husband. Him fully inside you, around you; his scent through your nose, his mouth still worshiping your hand, his deep breaths and noises slipping from deep within him.

"I beg of you, don't stop" he pleads. His voice is desperate and it only encourages you.

Your thighs strain quickly as you start lifting yourself, bouncing back down with your own desperation. Harry sits up wrapping his strong arms around your waist, only aiding you up when he feels your thoughts shake around his. You don't have time to scold him for his help, you can already feel yourself unravelling.

"My lord, Harry, it feels so good" you mewl out as you bring yourself down rapidly. Your left hand, the one adorned with an impressive shimmering white jewel, tangles into his curls. Your right falls to his shoulder. The strong muscle beneath your fingers is tensing with each bounce.

"Let go for me, please my Lady" Harry's voice sends an instant surge of pleasure through your body. Bringing you that much closer to your climax. What unfurls you is the feeling of his tongue on the tips of our breast. A quick sensation that completely takes over you, your legs lock and your head falls forward onto his. You can barely breathe through the last humps Harry guides you through to finish himself off.

He gently guides your body down onto the silk sheets of your shared bed. He's gone only momentarily from you to find your nightgown and his trousers.

"I did better this time didn't I?" Your voice is soft as you're already slipping into slumber.

"You were perfect my love. Always are" he kisses your forehead as he brings your body into his.

-

Promenading is one of your favourite pastimes among the London ton. Your arm is linked with your husband's, a small satchel of coins at both of your waists and a parasol held in Harry's free hand, ever the gentleman. As you stroll, you take in the gorgeous grounds beyond the markets and shops. A small pond at the center is home to two swans, their graceful necks curved towards each other in a perfect heart. You smile, imagining the two of you just like them; deeply in love and unfazed by the public's scrutiny. Soon, all the whispers and worry will be behind you, once you reach Redditch. Only a few days remain.

Many people surround you but you pay them no attention, it is not worth your energy. You merely offer polite smiles and exchange greetings when needed. You always turn your head back towards Harry and start a new conversation. Are there any willow trees at the Redditch estate? What do you think they have at the foreign stalls? Should we circle back to watch the children fly their kites?

You know these people aren't fond of you, that they see a scandal before they see anything else while looking at you. You truly hoped that after the marriage the whispers would die down or move to someone else but alas... you're still the talk of the town.

"Excuse me, My Lord and Lady Styles" you turn your head towards the voice that's called out to you. A young girl, seemingly around your age, is standing next to you. You see her chaperone gracefully rushing towards her, probably not having expected this interaction.

"Ah! Miss Bridgerton, how are you?" Your husband politely bows his head to her in greeting. You do the same waiting to be introduced, still not confident in your knowledge of the ton.

"I am fantastic, quite literally perfect" You sense a hint of sarcasm in her words, an edge that has a subtle smile grow on your face.

"My lady, this is Miss Eloise Bridgerton. Miss Bridgerton, this is my wife; Y/N Styles Duchess of Redditch" Your husband's voice is clear and polite, a clear sign that she is not one of the least kind members of the London ton.

Her name brings back a conversation you once had with Harry. That she has been shamed and humiliated by Lady Whistledown last year. That she had not left her estate, ignoring all chances to find a proper husband to make her doting mother proud. After all, her older sister has married as well as her eldest brother.

"It is grand to finally make your acquaintance, my Lady" Her smile is genuine but the tone stays the same; cheeky. A bubbly quirk to her words that you welcome, you could use a friend amongst the kill or be killed spirit in the debutante world. You don't quite fit in with the wives yet and you're too high status for the blushing singles.

"And I you Miss Bridgerton" you answer, "I'm assuming you aren't here for small talk. Your chaperonne looks panicked that you're here even just speaking with us" You're already putting walls of defence up, scared that she might turn out to be fooling you. That the other jealous women of the ton put her up to this, humiliation getting ready to strike.

If she dares to do so in front of your husband and not as sly well well-timed whispers with you alone then you might have to pat her on the back. No one has been that ballsy... yet...

"I only wish to sincerely congratulate you both" she nods to herself, "I know how... pitiful the ton can be once that scandal-loving snake writes about you" she adds as she reaches out to grab your free hand. You see her chaperone tense at the physical contact, you may not be a potential suitor but you are a lady of higher status. A quick glance at her chaperone and you see that her eyes are wide like a hawk in her tight bonnet, looking ready to drag Eloise away but the strings of her corset. The physical contact doesn't bother you, rather you welcome her kind touch.

"I have learned quickly that her word is as powerful as the Queens amongst these nobles" you sign out, content to vent to Miss Bridgerton. What's the worst that could happen? Be called a conniving whore? Check. She must find new insults soon, you'll start to think she lacks originality if you're called that again.

"A quick learner! We definitely need more of those" your arm is shaken lightly as Miss Bridgerton answers you.

"I'm glad that you came to speak to us, Miss Bridgerton," you tell her sincerely. Finally finding a friend through the crowds of foes feels better than you could have anticipated.

"Please, my Lady, our tarnished reputations have bonded us! Call me Eloise, it suits me better than a title" she scoffs comically, "believe me" she drags on her last word. You chuckle and nod to her.

"Then please call me Y/N, Eloise. My title has only been mine for a sunset or two" you squeeze her hand in reassurance. Friendship, alliance. Before either of you can keep the conversation going, your husband (still carefully holding the parasol over your head) clears his throat to grab your attention.

"Your title has been yours much longer than that, beloved" he smirks when your face reddens in surprise, "It always has been even before we met on that terrasse" Swoon! This man and his way with words, hypnotizing.

"We were having a moment, my Lord" Eloise playfully rolls her eyes. Already comfortable around you both. Titles be damned.

"Yes, my lord, keep the flattery for when we are only accompanied by the sunlight" You smile at him, already loving the playful expression that grows on his face. Teasing him is your second favourite thing. Only bested by complimenting him to your heart's desire.

"I will leave you now, Mama will lose her head if she learns I've kept you any longer" Eloise straightens herself and nods to her still uncomfortable chaperone.

"Will you be at the ball tonight?" you ask before she goes back to her family.

"Unfortunately" she cringes, "Save a dance for me! It is my duty to show the Duchess a great time" she teases one last time before gracefully excusing herself.

You watch her leave with a smile still on your face. Finally, someone who seems to want to know you. To know more about the diamond that has been locked away so quickly, the untouchable jewel. You want more people to know about your true self not the one on paper and about how adoring your husband is. Why must you only be seen as a polished and sacred diamond?

"That went well" Harry gently kissed the crown of your head. You turn your head towards him, a content expression overtaking your face.

"I think so," you nod "She seems sweet and very lively" You walk forward again, lighter in spirit, ready to face the market's crowds with Harry at your side and Eloise's warm spirit still lingering.

You tell yourself you'll stop caring what they say... and for the first time, you almost believe it.

-

The hustle and bustle of the market is extremely inviting. You want to stop at every shop, linger at each stall, and spend the coins you have too quickly. Silks imported from proud merchants, rare jewels that shimmer in the sunlight, spices so rich they make your mouth water they swirl around together to create an atmosphere perfectly unique to the foreign markets.

"Come, my love. I want you to pick the fabrics for your next gown" Harry speaks softly as he gently guides you with a hand on the small of your back to a particular stall.

"Another? Already, My Lord?" you ask in shock, "I have not yet worn your latest piece"

He smiles, tender and a little amused, "Is planning ahead forbidden? I would make your entire wardrobe if I had the time"

To conceal your embarrassingly smitten expression you turn to the stunning array of fabrics in front of you. You're looking at every colour, every shade with a meticulous eye. You know how serious Harry is about his claim so you want to make sure you pick a stunning fabric. A pale cream silk catches your eye; it's golden shimmer reflecting in the sun's rays that crept throw the makeshift cover above you. You carefully pull your glove off, draping it atop your other arm as you reach out to feel the fabric. It's soft under your fingertips a daydream about it being draped around your form quickly flashing in your mind.

As you turn to ask for Harry's opinion a small boy comes barrelling into the market, "New Whistledown article! 'A stylish fall' and 'How bright the moon' fresh off the prints" his high-pitched voice attracts the focus. Young women and chatty debutants rush to him golden coins handed to him at a rapid pace.

You turn back to the task at hand not interested in reading what the crude Lady has invented this time. You have no interest in lies and fabrication at anyone's expense and you won't support it. Especially after your pleasant chat with Eloise, she too personally understands your distaste.

"How about this one My Lord? It's practically glowing" You turn towards your husband, his focus is already on you.

He smiles, "I think it'll look even better on you, good choice my dear" he nods and waves the merchant over to pay her for the fabric.

An unusual hush takes over the crowd. You don't realize until you turn to look at what other stalls you want to stop at. An uncomfortable number of eyes are on you and Harry, not the usual glances, but strangely analytical eyes. You spot the Brigerton family ushering their youngest debutante, Francesca, away. Eloise stays back a few moments more seemingly undecided on whether she should stay or not. One of her brothers ends up tugging her arms and dragging her with them. She ends up dropping the article at her feet, only a few steps away from you. Curiosity wins.

A Stylish Fall

Every great house bears its secrets. Some are buried in vaults. Others in discreet deals in gentlemen's clubs. Some even wear theirs in velvet stitched with pearls.

The marriage between the Duke of Redditch and his bride (the ever discussed and often envied Duchess) was by all means a swift affair. A courtship practically skipped past for a royally endorsed wedding. Some wonder if affection truly blossomed or was there a connivence to it all? For whom, you ask?

Let us consider: His grace, an undeniably handsome man, has been observed indulging in rather a unusual pastime. Not fencing. Not horse riding. Not even hunting. But, prepare yourselves, gentle readers, fashion design. You may think of tailoring but no, dressmaking. Yes, it is said that the duke sews gowns for his wife. Chooses fabrics. Embroiders lace and with alarming frequency, too. Might you find a glimpse of the Duchess make sure to look at stitches, our dear Madame Delacroix was not the maker.

One must ask... where is the Duke we once knew? The brooding heir, the proud bachelor who commanded attention when walking into any room? Why has he now reduced himself to threading silk and measuring waists?

And let us not forget: those who marry quickly often regret slowly.

Has the new Duchess thrown herself into a convenient position? Her family and title from modest means suddenly become worthy of such a meteoric rise. From a regular lady to a duchess draped in hand-stitched silk. Is she truly enamoured with our overtly abundant Duke, or was the acceptance pure strategy?

Whispers have begun in more exclusive circles, about His Grace. That a man so keen on burying his hands in needles and gemstones may not be entirely focused on matters more fitting for his status. Perhaps he's playing dress-up as a distraction for something deeper...

Time will tell if the stitches are loosening at the seams.

- Yours, Lady Whistledown

Your vision is blurry as you finish reading. The second part is forgotten when her signature stares at you. Provoking you. You want to rip it to shreds, spit on it and throw it in the writer's face. If only you knew who was writing these insulting words. Harry, keeping himself from his "fitting duties"? Ridiculous! He takes pride in his title and in his devotion to you. To have both questioned is blasphemy. Your hands are visibly shaking as you glance back up at the ton. The way they are waiting for a reaction out of you, for you to step out of line.

You can't break here, not now.

You square your shoulders and slip your glove back on. Without meaning to, you harshly stuff the article into your coin pouch. Harry noticed the movement as he handed over the coins to pay for the silk you had chosen. Gesturing for the footman to grab his purchase he turns his full attention to you.

"My love, what's got you so shaken? Are you getting hungry?" he asks gently, grabbing your hand in his.

You gesture to the crowd in front of you, "She's written about us again. about the dresses" you whisper to him. His eyes widen slightly, realizing that they are all scrutinizing. Judging. Not only whispering and laughing but fully unnerved by what's been written.

"Let's head home for the day, I can't wait any longer to see you in my newest piece" he tugs you back to where you walked into the market. Your heart squeezes at his words. He doesn't know it. He doesn't know that one of your favourite things is now being used against him. You follow him, readying yourself for when you'll have to hand him the article.

-

The second you enter Lady Danbury's ballroom, the hush is deafening.

The musicians don't stop but the guests do. The dances and the mingling halted. The glances you receive up and down, to your husband and to your tightly clasped hands make you stand straighter. Your parents, little brother and newborn sister won't be in attendance. They are taking care of your mother who's just given birth, the finale is complete. It feels like you're walking through water as you make your way down the few steps to the dance floor.

And then someone gasps.

Because of your gown, stitched in gold, it catches just perfectly the chandelier's light. You're practically glowing. No one looks away.

Harry is the picture of stoic beside you. His shoulders squared, stood tall and his expression sharp. You think of the sentences written trying to belittle his work. How his hands sewed this masterpiece of a dress. If only they knew how careful his hands were for you, how passionate.

Lady Danbury herself comes to greet you. Mischief and respect in her expression.

"Well, if it isn't London's most scandalous seamstress and his doting chef-d'œuvre" her voice is dry, as is most likely her glass of champagne, "You both wear scandal exceptionally well" There is a hint of teasing in her tone. Testing you both most likely.

"I hope it's enough to silence the fiction," you tell her, head held higher. She nods with a smile and gestures to the refreshments, putting an end to your short conversation.

You find Eloise pouring herself a glass of punch as you walk over. She lingers by you when she sees that you're next to her. She has a guilty expression on her face that you can't truly decipher. She turns to you, hesitantly.

"I didn't know she could... twist this the way she did," Eloise says, voice barely above a whisper. "That she would insult the Duke's, um, masculinity"

"I guess she'll hurt whoever the way she pleases..." you reply softly. "We can only control how we react to it"

Before she can answer you, a booming voice is heard.

"Her Majesty the Queen!"

Gasps ripple through the ton and the musicians come to a screeching halt. The Queen's appearance is definitely unexpected tonight. Especially not after the articles that have been published today.

The Queen steps in regal as ever, violet silk with a diamond collar that reflects light into her analyzing gaze. Her eyes scan the crowd and quickly settle on you.

Her descent is graceful, as she always is, she nods politely to Lady Danbury as she walks by her but doesn't stop until she is in front of you and your husband.

"Your Grace," she speaks to you directly (in a tone far louder than necessary) "Beautiful work this gown... French lace?" she speaks purposefully. She wants everyone to hear.

"English stitching, Your Majesty," Harry says, voice calm but clear, pride in his hold around your waist "Every inch"

"Ah, but of course" Her gaze shifts to him, "And what must one do for an exclusive piece?" she asks him. Her expression is unreadable, intimidating.

"It's an honour you ask, Your Majesty, however, I have but one muse" he nods politely and squeezes you against him. Your side now stuck to his.

She looks at you both up and down once, twice before finally smiling.

"I understand now, a man with such talent is inspired by love and love only" She looks around the ballroom with a scrutinized face.

"It's a shame my gold can't inspire you as much" she squints her eyes playfully. "Now, if you'll allow me to have the Duchess's first dance this evening"

Harry nods, kisses the back of your gloved hand and transfers it to the Queen's hold. You curtsy as she takes your hand in hers, deep and respectful.

She gracefully guides you to the center of the dance floor, the musicians quickly start a new song. She guides you skilfully without a hint of hesitation.

"Has the Duke truly done all of this himself or was that simply a poetic branding?" Her voice is low, now wanting this conversation between you.

"Every stitch, Your Majesty" You're quick to defend him, "He pours himself into every inch" She studies you and the delicate embroidery at your neckline.

"Then you have something rare, Duchess. A man bold enough to follow only his own expectations is rare among these people" she sneers at some of the overtly curious onlookers. They flush in embarrassment and turn away.

The Queen's hands and commanding but not harsh. She gently guides you to the next steps, and you feel more like her equal than her subject.

"Lady Whistledown" she starts, her voice now barely above a whisper "is starting to go too far. She must have grown confident. Her pen is growing reckless"

You look around trying to see if she's singling anyone out.

"You must be wondering who she is" she adds. You blink up at her, nodding slightly.

"Would you like to help me find her?"

Your breath catches, she's not teasing or testing you. This is a true question. She is asking if you want to join her hunt for the author.

You see strategy and power in her eyes. She is determined, this woman before you is used to playing the long game and winning.

"I would" you answer her.

She offers you a satisfied hum and a smile in response.

"Your duke better have you dressed ready for the hunt next time" She twirls you effortlessly and curtsies as the last notes are played. Around you, the ton’s eyes watch every inch, every move, every breath you take as she walks away.

You return to Harry with a tight smile but it is not from nerves. From the knowledge that something bigger has shifted tonight. Something important.

Harry pulls you close and hands you a glass of punch. The cool liquid feels great, cooling your overheating body. So much attention does make you grow warm.

"Was anything scandalous discussed, beloved? Or was she asking about the jewels in your hair?" he teases you. You look up at him in a little daze but a smile grows on your face nonetheless.

"She wants to find Lady Whistledown, she's asked for my help" you tell him honestly. No lies needed between you.

Harry let's out a breath. Shocked? Proud? Aroused? You suddenly hold so much power. He looks impressed.

"Then we must find you a dress for battle" he brushed your cheek.

"In gold?" you tease.

"In armour" he answers proudly.

-

You haven't spoken much since leaving Lady Danbury's ball shortly after the Queen's appearance. Well, only after your husband twirled you around the dance floor a few times to show off your glowing gown.

The tons' eyes never left you, the gown bathed in candlelight made you glow more than the sun at full peak. Jealousy and envy rained but all well concealed behind fluttering fans.

"She asked for your first dance" Harry is the one to break the silence in the carriage. His hand clasped in yours, now bare without your golden gloves.

"She did" You turn to look at him. His profile is softly illuminated by the lantern swinging outside the carriage.

"She did it publicly, called my work beautiful" There's a smile in his voice. If you weren't looking at him so attentively you still would have known his smile was there. The smallest laugh escapes you, endeared by his joyful expression.

"She did more than that, My Lord!" You gently turn his face toward you with your free hand. "She silenced the whispers, for a short moment everyone bowed to us" You smiled wildly.

"We owe her our gratitude" he answers softly and leans his head back on the soft cushions behind you both. You hesitate for a moment, not sure if you want to break the light atmosphere. But you have to ask.

"Do you think it will last?"

"No, but now there might be something we can do to keep it" he sighs as he delicately rubs his thumb around your palm.

"Let them talk, let her write" his voice is firm, "So long as we stand together in the face of her scrutiny we will last longer than any scandal she stirs" he brings your hands up and kisses your knuckles.

Silence falls again. Your mind goes back to the dance you had with the Queen, the mission you joined, Eloise's friendship, the crowd parting for you even if just for a moment. You will fight for the man beside you, you will wear his creations born of love and you will win.

"I don't want to leave," you say, "Not yet"

Harry immediately knocks on the roof of the carriage halting it.

He turns to you and places a hand on your cheek, he waits for you to keep going.

"I want to stay, a little longer. This with the Queen is unfinished. I want to drown out the whispers entirely" you finish. He looks at you, scans yo ur expression.

"Then we will stay. I'll send word to Redditch first thing in the morning" he places a kiss on your forehead.

He slides the panel open and tells the footmen to head for your London property. You sign and lean against him when he closes it back up.

"I'm sorry your art, the gowns, are being used against you" you murmur, unsure if it means anything.

"They've never been for them, only for you" he leans his head against yours.

You close your eyes in satisfaction, squeezing his hand.

London can keep watching and whispering. You have no intention of letting them win.

[shockercoco]

Stuck Together

Elias 'Stack' Moore x reader

Warnings - fluff, some swearing, confession of feelings, insecurities and self doubt, readers nickname is Pea

Word count - 8195 (my longest yet, insane)

a/n - finally here it is, the long awaited part 2 to Peas in a Pod, but this can technically be read by itself! I would like to apologize for taking so long to get this out, I really didn't mean for it to take me a month lol💀 Thank you for all the love on the previous part and I hope you enjoy, thanks for reading :)

Summary: After you and Stack confessed your feelings for one another, the two of you decide to take things slow. Everything seems to be going fine until you encounter an old friend, sparking some negative feelings within you and causing you to avoid Stack. Of course, you can't avoid him forever.

“So you’re telling me that everything I’ve seen in the papers about the untouchable SmokeStack twins is true?” you scoff in disbelief after hearing Stack go into details about his adventures with Smoke.

When you look up from the newspaper in your lap—the one that started this conversation—Stack nods, a proud yet smug smile on his face.

“You ain’t have to say ‘untouchable’ like that, though,” Stack rolls.

Your eyebrows furrow. “Like what?”

“Like you think it’s stupid folks call us untouchable.”

“Because it is,” you point out.

“Oh, c’mon, Pea. I don’t like to brag, but-,” Stack smirks, pretending to dust off his clothes, but you stop him before he can continue.

“Yes, you do. I know it, Smoke knows it, everyone knows it.”

Stack gives you a look for interrupting him, but you just innocently shrug before motioning for him to go on. 

“I was gonna say that I don’t like to brag, but this is what happens when you don’t let just anyone do stupid shit and get over on you,” Stack tells you. “Them people are just statin’ the facts.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I mean you did just almost crush a man’s hand for trying to pick up some change you accidentally dropped. Gotta keep up that untouchable facade,” you agree with a sarcastic tone. 

Stack either doesn’t notice your sarcasm or chooses to ignore it.

“Damn right,” he nods.

You quickly fold the newspaper up in your hands and swat his arm. Stack just shoots you a wink. 

The two of you are sitting on a bench outside of Mrs. Chow’s shop and keeping an eye on the store and her daughter while she takes care of some errands. And by errands you mean Mrs. Chow is tending to the man’s hand that Stack had tried to crush 30 minutes prior at her husband’s shop across the street. The location of the incident is only a few feet from where you sit.

Thankfully it wasn’t too hot out today, so you didn’t mind waiting, and plus this gives you a reason to spend more time with Stack.

You shake your head in disappointment at Stack’s response, but you can’t help but smile at him unapologetically being himself.

After the twins’ party a few nights ago and after some confessed feelings (Stack confessed first, and you’ll never let him forget it) the two of you decided to take things slow.

Well, more you than him. You don’t have much relationship experience—or life experience, if you compare it to the twins’— so the last thing you want to do is jump into anything. You’re only in your twenties, so what’s the rush? Who cares that a lot of women your age are already married or are in long term relationships? 

Okay, maybe you do, and maybe you also feel like you’re falling behind, but you’re only human. 

When you had debriefed Mary about the situation and your feelings, she had surprisingly taken your side. Usually she would says that you’re just overthinking or being your usual anxious self, but this time she said:

“You’re doing the right thing by not wanting to rush. I mean, look at me. I got married to a businessman that’s always out of town and who knows exactly what or who he’s doin’,” Mary tells you, the two of you sitting on your front porch enjoying the stars.

“Really, you think?” you ask.

“Yeah, really. You don’t have to compare yourself to all of these other women in town because I can guarantee you not all of ‘em are happy,” Mary points out.

You nod along as you begin to think of all the interactions you have seen between couples in the past; some of them happy and obviously in love, and some of them are just…there.

“And what if Stack doesn’t want to wait like I do?”

“Pea, please. How many times do I have to tell you that that man is in love with you? He’ll wait for you, and if he doesn’t then he can go ahead and take his cocky suit-wearin’ ass to hell.”

Mary’s sudden change in tone makes you burst into laughter, clutching your stomach as you bend over.

“What? I’m serious,” she admits, before joining you.

“Hello? Pea?” you hear Stack’s voice say, bringing you back to the present.

You blink a few times as you notice Stack waving a hand in front of your face. You take a deep breath as you look over at him.

“Sorry, I was just…thinking,” you speak, shaking your head to clear your thoughts.

Stack’s eyebrows are furrowed. “I can see that. What’re you thinkin’ about?”

“It’s nothing important,” you tell him while giving him a small smile.

He raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Didn’t look like nothing’ from how hard you were statin’ off into space.”

“It’s lady stuff, you don’t wanna know,” you joke, trying to change the subject.

“Is that supposed to scare me?” Stack smirks. You just roll your eyes and hit him again with the newspaper in your hands.

You sigh. “Really, it’s nothing,” you wave him off.

You can tell Stack doesn’t fully believe you, but he decides not to pry. Before you start feeling too awkward, you notice Mrs. Chow walking up to the two of you, dusting her hands on her apron.

“Alright, I’m all done. Thanks again for watchin’ the shop f’me,” Mrs. Chow smiles at you, but gives Stack a more firm look.

Stack just gives her a cheeky grin.

“It’s not a problem. Besides, it’s the least we could do,” you smile.

“Well, I’ll go ahead and let the two of you get on with your day. Best get him out of here before he causes anymore trouble,” she says, gently touching you on the shoulder as she walks past you and into her shop.

“Oh, come on, I ain’t that bad,” Stack scoffs at her words, but still keeps that grin on his face.

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you say,” you scoff, collecting your bag and fixing your dress as you stand up from the bench.

“What was that?” Stack teases. 

He stands up with you and places his hat on top of his head before he begins poking you in your side.

“Stop,” you laugh at the ticklish feeling, using your hands to try and swat him away. 

You let out a shriek as he digs his fingers into your side, causing some people to look over, but most just mind their business.

“People are looking, stop,” you lower your voice, but there’s a smile on your face as you shove him away.

You hate how giddy he makes you feel. 

“Nah, I heard you say somethin’ smart,” Stack smirks and stays right on your tail as you begin walking away from him. 

“I think you’re hearing things. It’s okay, though, everyone knows you’re not all there,” you snicker.

“Ohh, you think you’re funny, huh,” Stack looks at you in fake astonishment. “That hurts, Pea. You’re ‘posed to be on my side, you know we gotta stick together.”

“And I am on your side,” you playfully roll your eyes.

“Well, from what you just said, that’s not what it seems like.”

“It doesn’t matter what it seems like, all that matters is the truth. You should know this.”

“Don’t get smart. This ain’t over.”

“It is, if I say it is.”

“Alright, keep playin’,” Stack chuckles.

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as the two of you slowly carry on down the road through the town. Stack had offered to drive, but you had declined and told him that a little exercise won’t kill anyone. Stack had just groaned, but he followed behind you anyways when he realized you were serious.

“Are you still coming over for dinner?” you ask after a while, your tone hopeful.

Smoke and Stack always used to have dinner at your house when you all were growing up, so much so that you eventually stopped asking them because you knew they would show up. 

“Of course, nothing could keep me from your mama’s cookin’. I thought about it a lot while I was gone,” he says, rubbing his stomach over his clothes.

“Really?” you’re taken aback for a second.

“Really,” Stack nods sincerely.

Before either of you have the chance to say anything else, a man carrying a container loses his footing in front of you along with his hold on the object, causing it to slip from his grasp. Whatever liquid is inside splashes up onto the bottom of your dress as the container hits the ground. 

You gasp as you take a step back while looking down at your clothes. Some people passing by turn to look at the cause of the commotion.

You hate nosy people. 

“Oh, no. I’m so sorry ma’am. I didn’t mean to,” the man frantically apologizes, his eyes wide, “My buddy told me not to carry this by myself, but I was bein’ stubborn and look where that got me. I shoul-.”

You hold your hand up to cut him off, shaking your head with a small smile. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Stack making a move to say something, but you quickly place a hand on his arm.

“Don’t, it’s okay,” you tell him softly, giving him a look to let him know you’re serious.

Stack hesitates as he looks down at you. His body is tense and his jaw is tight, but once he sees your face, he takes a deep breath before looking away from the scene in front of him.

When you look back at the man in front of you, you see the uneasiness on his face as he notices Stack standing next to you.

“I really am sorry, ma’am. I meant no disrespect,” the man  shifts uncomfortably.

“Don’t worry about it. Like you said, it’s an accident. Besides, I’m sure this isn’t something a little elbow grease can’t fix,” you give the man a reassuring smile, and he nods.

Not wanting to stand there any longer, you give the man one last smile as you walk past him, pulling Stack with you.

“Sorry about the dress,” you say once the two of you are out of ear shot.

Stack had given you the dress a couple of days ago, saying that he felt bad for coming back after all this time without something to give you. You had insisted that you didn’t need anything and that having you and Smoke back in one piece was good enough, but had just ignored you and shoved the dress into your hands.

Stack is confused as he looks at you. “Why are you sorry?”

“Because I ruined the dress you gave me.”

“You didn’t ruin it, that piece of shit back there did. You should’ve let me say something to him back there,” Stack grumbles, glancing back at the man in the distance. 

“And say what? He didn’t mean to, Stack. Sometimes, you just gotta let things go. Besides, you already hurt a man earlier, there’s no need for more violence.”

He rolls his eyes. Then, he says, “just know, I would’ve said something if you wanted me to.”

“I know you would’ve, but I didn’t need you to.”

“Okay, Miss independent. You don’t need me no more, I see,” Stack jokes, giving you a playful nudge with his shoulder.

“Oh, please. I never needed you, you just never listened and kept weaseling your way into things in the past.”

“And I was just a man tryin’ to handle business,” Stack throws his hands up dramatically and sighs.

“Man? Your voice was still squeaking when you talked,” you snort.

“Hey! That’s not funny, I was in the process of becoming a man,” Stack tells you with a serious face. The two of you share a look for a moment before bursting into laughter. “I missed spendin’ time with you, Pea.”

You feel your face get warm as you glance down at your feet with a shy smile at his admission.

And I missed you too.

Being around Stack makes you feel like everything only happened yesterday, like no time has passed and the two of you haven’t changed.

He brings a different side of you out. 

God. You sound gross, you sound in love—if this is even what love feels like.

“Well, who wouldn’t miss me?” you tease.

Stack playfully shakes his head with a smile, before grabbing your hand and twirling you around. You’re taken aback at first, but you quickly recover and let him spin you in the middle of the street.

Elias ‘Stack’ Moore is twirling you around in the street.

Before the two of you could get too lost in the moment, you hear a female voice call out.

“Well, I’ll be damned, it must be my lucky day. Is that one of the twins I see over there?” the woman’s voice is teasing.

You turn in the direction of the voice and see a gorgeous woman with a bright smile slowly walking over. There’s a hat sitting on top of her neatly styled hair, and she’s wearing a dress that matches her glove and purse. She uses one of her covered hands to shield her eyes from the sun.

You’re not sure if you’re dizzy because of all the spinning or from the way Stack gently rests his hand on your back as he stands next to you.

“It’s my lucky day, which one of the twins are you?” the woman asks, but quickly laughs and adds, “Who am I kidding? I can recognize you from a mile away, Stack.”

You’re confused at first, thinking that this was some random stranger walking up to the two of you, but as you look up at Stack, you can tell by the smile growing on his face that he recognizes the woman.

“Liza? What the hell are you doin’ in Mississippi?” Stack asks. His hand leaves your back as he leaves your side to go hug the woman—Liza. 

Your mood shifts a bit. 

“Sightseeing, although there’s not that much to see,” Liza giggles.

“Sightseein’ my ass, what are you really doin’ out here?” Stack asks as he pulls away.

“My father’s in town handlin’ some business, and I decided to tag along because why not? I remembered you mentioning’ something about you bein’ from Mississippi, but I didn’t think I’d actually run into you,” Liza grins up at Stack. Then, she finally notices you standing over to the side. “Look at you being rude, Stack. Who’s your friend?”

Friend.

Stack moves to put his arm around your shoulder, not on your back like it was a few moments ago, but around your shoulders. “This is Pea, she grew up with me and Smoke. We go way back.”

He didn’t correct her. It’s not like he’s supposed to, though, the two of you aren’t official. It still hurts.

“Pea?” Liza asks with furrowed brows.

“It’s a nickname,” you explain, to which she nods.

“It’s sweet that you guys have stayed close after all this time.” Liza holds her hand out for you to shake. “I’m Elizabeth, but everyone calls me Liza, I guess you could say that that’s my nickname. It’s nice to meet you.”

So cheer-y.

“It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Her hands are soft, her fingernails are nicely manicured, she smells amazing, and she looks even better up close. There has to be something wrong with her, she’s too perfect.

Then Liza’s bright smile changes into a gasp as she looks down, “Oh, honey, you got a little somethin’ on your dress.”

Your heart drops. “Oh, it’s nothing. I ran into someone earlier and they spilled this on my dress,” you respond, glancing down at the spot still on your dress.

For a moment, you had forgotten all about it.

Now, you suddenly feel hyper-aware of your appearance in comparison to Liza’s. Here she is looking all elegant from head to toe, and then here you are with a stain on your dress. Stack’s dress. A dress you had felt so confident in an hour ago, but not now as you stand in front of Liza.

You shouldn’t be embarrassed, but you are.

Why couldn’t she have popped up earlier before everything happened?

“What a shame, it looks like a lovely dress despite the stain. I know someone who can remove almost anythin’ if you’re interested?”

“I think I’ll manage, but thank you, though,” you offer a kind smile.

“Of course,” she tells you, before turning her attention back to Stack. “I gotta go, but I’ll be in town for a couple of days, so we should get together before I leave. I’m sure my father would love to see you.”

Your eyebrows are raised as you look between the two. 

“I don’t think your old man would be too happy to see me after I won that game against him,” Stack chuckles.

“Oh, please, I’m sure he’s over it. Besides, I think he was more impressed than anythin’. Think about it at least?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll think about it.”

“Perfect,” Liza claps. She turns to you to say, “It was really great to meet you.”

You watch as Liza leaves, her confidence obvious in the way she walks in her heels. Why are you surprised, she’s just the type of woman Stack would go for. 

-

You’re not as excited for dinner as you should be, given the fact that it’s Stack’s first time in your house in years. You hate how much that Liza girl had affected your mood for the day. 

After washing your dress and successfully getting the stain out, you changed into a new one for dinner, although it didn’t really matter. You’re pretty sure you hung your appetite up alongside your dress on the clothesline. 

Even though you weren’t in the mood to eat, you were apparently still in the mood to laugh. You couldn’t help the noises that left you as your mother and Stack shared memories from over the years. 

Your mother went on a tangent summarizing everything that Stack had missed out on concerning the whole town. She told him about how boring the stories the women at church told in his and Smoke’s absence, but also how a lot of people in town missed them even though they would never admit it to twins’ faces.

Stack enlightened her on his adventures with his brother, but you could tell when he was leaving out some details or changing them to spare your mother.

After dinner, when Stack had asked you if you wanted to take a walk with him outside, you had declined and told him that you weren’t feeling too well—which wasn’t a complete lie.

You just needed some time to yourself to think.

-

A few days later, Stack hadn’t seen or heard from you since that night.  At first, he just thought you were still feeling under the weather from dinner, but as time passed that just didn’t seem likely. 

Stack didn’t want to admit it, but he felt like he was going crazy. He had just gotten you back and the two of you were making progress, but then poof. You’re gone. 

Was it something he had done? 

You told him wanted to take things slow, but did he somehow move too fast? Was he laying on too heavy with the flirting? Did you not like when he twirled you around in the street?

And why the hell did he twirl you in the street? Who was he? Better yet, who were you making him become? 

He was different when he was around you, but he liked that, didn’t he?

Stack asked around for you during the gatherings at the Juke Joint, and most people would say that they had spoken to you earlier in the day or they had passed by you in town. Cornbread, Slim, Sammy, Smoke, and Annie hadn’t seen you either.

Yesterday, Stack had run into Mary after she had gotten off at the train station. When he asked her about you, she was confused because she had figured you’d be spending most of your time with Stack while she was gone. She didn’t tell Stack any of that, though, and instead told him that she was sure that you’re fine.

To anyone else, Stack seemed like his usual witty and firm self, but it was obvious to Smoke and Annie that something was off about him.

Annie wanted Smoke to say something to his brother, but talking about feelings was never Smoke’s strong suit. 

So, he made Annie do it.

“Word on the street is you’ve gone soft,” Annie smirks at Stack, her voice gentle and teasing as she casually walks up to Stack.

Stack was leaning with his back against the bar with his arms folded across his chest as he watched people move around the dance floor.

“Oh, yeah? Says who?” Stack lets out a humorless laugh, keeping his eyes in front of him.

“The streets,” Annie jokes. Stack gives her an unimpressed look, but Annie keeps her smirk as she comes to stand next to him and mimics his stance. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What do you mean? Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me.” Stack’s face contorts.

“Boy,” Annie scoffs, “try tellin’ that to someone who doesn’t know you.”

“Well, I’m tellin’ you that nothin’ is wrong with me.”

Annie raises an eyebrow as she turns her body to face him. “Mhm. So why have you been walkin’ around here all sad and lookin’ like you got a stick up your ass?”

Stack breathes out a frustrated sigh as his jaw tenses. “What the hell do you want, Annie?”

“I want you to tell me what’s got you actin’ like this. Your brother notices it, too, but he just didn’t wanna say anythin’ so I am.”

Stack looks over at Smoke in the distance leaning against a pillar as he watches with a smile as Slim performs.

What a pussy.

“We can stand here all night gettin’ absolutely nowhere, or we can just get to it. The choice is yours. That hard-headed brother o’ yours is just as stubborn as you, so this little facade you got goin’ on doesn’t phase me one bit.”

Stack lets out a sigh and doesn’t say anything, but Annie notices the slight flicker of emotion in his face, so she keeps talking.

“Is it Pea?” Annie questions, even though she already knows the answer. 

This makes Stack whip his head towards her. Annie smirks.

“What, you don’t think I notice how upbeat you’ve been lately? I can put two and two together. Plus, I saw you in town with her the other day while I was grabbin’ some ingredients. Now here you keep askin’ around about her because she ain’t here by your side, which is why you look like a puppy dog who got kicked,” Annie continues.

Stack isn’t a fan of the puppy comparison but chooses to ignore it. “So you saw that, huh?” he asks.

“Yes. Now, what’s wrong? Did you guys get in a fight or somethin’?”

“No, we didn’t. She’s avoidin’ me for no reason.”

“Well, I’m sure there’s a reason,” Annie scoffs.

“Well, if there is, I obviously don’t know what the fuck it is! You just said you saw us in town and seen for yourself that everythin’ was fine, but apparently not, and I’m over here goin’ damn near crazy.” Stack does his best to keep his voice down but doesn’t do a very good job.

Annie, being used to the twins’ reactions, lets Stack’s outburst wash over her like nothing. If anything, this tells her how much Stack cares for you, and not just as in a bestfriend way.

“Use that big head o’ yours and think. Did she say somethin’ to you to let you know that she was upset? Was she actin’ different later that day? Did anythin’ at all happen that she seemed fine with in the moment but could upset her?”

Stack rolls his eyes, thinking to himself that there’s no way he’s going to figure this out. Then, as he goes back into his memories to recall that day with you for what seems to be the 100th time, it clicks.

-

While Stack was receiving an insightful pep talk from Annie, you were getting one from Mary. 

The two of you were sitting at your dining table drinking tea that your mother had just made, and you were planning on not telling her anything and just start rambling about whatever comes to mind, but Mary had other plans.

“So, what’s this I hear about Stack not bein’ able to find you? What the hell did I miss while I was gone?” Mary asks you.

“How do you know that?”

“I saw him yesterday at the train station, and he came up to me and asked about you. I didn’t say anything, of course, but what the hell happened while I was gone? Did things change?”

You don’t look up at her and instead fidget with the spoon inside of your cup.

“Pea, come on. Don’t make me sit here all night because I will, and you know I will,” Mary tells you, leaning back in her chair with her arms folded. 

So you tell her everything—from spending the day with Stack to meeting Liza, who is probably one of Stack’s one night stands, in a ruined dress.

“I’m sorry, that bitch said ‘honey’ to you?” Mary is taken aback. 

You quickly shush her and glance back towards the kitchen where your mother still was. Yeah, you’re a grown woman, but it just seems weird to have someone come into your house and swear around her. 

Mary just waves you off and tells you to keep going. She knows your mother loves her and mostly likely won’t say anything.

“Yeah, but I’m not sure if she meant it in a snarky way or if she was just saying that because it’s something she always says,” you point out.

Mary gives you a ‘really’ look. “Trust me, if everythin’ happened like the way you just told me, then this Liza girl was bein’ exactly how you think she was. Don’t let that woman get to you, if anything, you’re the one that got to her.”

“And what makes you say that?” You scoff.

“Because she felt the need to point out that something was wrong with your dress, and I don’t care how kind or gentle her tone seemed, she didn’t mean it in a friendly way. I would never do somethin’ like that to you, ‘specially not in front of a man.”

You stare into space as you think about it for a moment. “I guess you’re right, but I still don’t understand why she would feel threatened by me. I mean, you didn’t see her. She was gorgeous and I’m just…me. It would make sense if the two of them were ever together.”

“Don’t you dare,” Mary tells you as she sits back up in her chair. “Don’t you dare start puttin’ yourself down like that. So what, I wasn’t there to see Liza. Any woman who is ugly on the inside looks just the same on the outside in my eyes.”

 “Well, I’m not putting myself down…I was just telling it how it is,” you shrug.

Mary holds her hand up to stop you. “Don’t even try me. You might not realize it, but that’s exactly what you’re doin’, Pea.”

You open your mouth to speak, and Mary quickly shuts you down with a look.

“I’ve known you your whole damn life, and I’ll be damned if I let some random woman come here and tear you down after only knowing you for five whole seconds. Don’t let me run into her because who the hell does she think she is?”

You can’t help but smile at your best friend’s choice of words. Her tone might seem aggressive or intense, but deep down you know anything that she says comes from love. 

You hear a faint “that’s right” coming from behind, which makes you turn your head only to catch your mother peeking from behind the wall.

“Ma!” you gasp. 

Your mother holds her hands up in surrender as she smiles. “Sorry I ain’t mean to eavesdrop. I won’t do it no more, I promise. Carry on,” she tells the two of you. 

She sends Mary a wink before leaving. When you turn back around to face Mary, she’s looking back at you with a smirk. You roll your eyes.

“What, your mother knows best and obviously agrees because she knows I’m tellin’ you nothin’ but the trust,” Mary laughs.

“Oh whatever. Don’t make me kick you out.”

“But, as I was sayin’, there’s absolutely nothin’ wrong with you, and the fact that Stack is still choosin’ you after travelin’ the damn planet should tell you everythin’ you need to know.”

“We’re not even official yet, so he didn’t exactly choose me,” you counter.

Mary dramatically throws her hands up. “How about you stop guessin’ about all of this and let Stack decide for himself. Just ask that man, there’s nothin’ to be afraid of.”

You let out a sigh. “I guess. I can’t exactly avoid him forever,” you suppose and Mary nods.

“Exactly. So this means you’ll talk to Stack tomorrow then, right?” Mary raised an eyebrow at you.

“Right,” you nod, giving her a small smile

-

Two days later, you still haven’t talked to Stack. 

You know that you told Mary that you would, you just…haven’t gotten around to it–and by that, you mean you’ve been tryin’ your hardest to avoid both Stack and Mary. 

It’s obvious you can’t carry on like this much longer because your mother keeps giving you this look like she wants to say something, but she never does. 

You’re starting to feel a little guilty about this whole situation, but to be honest, Mary should’ve known that you weren’t going to march right up to Stack and demand that he tell you that you’re the only woman for him.

And Mary did know this, which is why she was currently bursting through the front door of your mother’s shop, with a clear attitude on her face.

“Are you kiddin’ me?” Mary asks as she crosses her arms, her purse dangling from one of her hands.

Your eyes widen as you curse under your breath. The customers that were in the shop, turned their heads at the sudden commotion. 

The woman you were currently ringing up, Mrs.Lenetta, a close friend of your mother’s, looks between you and Mary before shaking her head. She’s been around long enough to not be surprised by Mary and her ways.

Besides, Mary is only comfortable causing a ruckus like this because she knows most of the people in the area. You honestly shouldn’t even be surprised.

You quickly finish up with Mrs. Lenetta, giving her an apologetic smile, before coming from behind the register and walking up to Mary.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask her with a hushed voice. 

You grab her arm to push her outside, but she moves out of your grasp. You look behind you and see the customers no longer caring and going back to browsing.

“What do you mean ‘what the hell am I doing’? What are you doing? First, you avoid Stack, but now you’re avoidin’ me? That won’t do. This is gonna get settled once and for all right here, right now.”

“I know, and I’m sor- Wait, what do you mean?” you furrow your eyebrows.

Before Mary has a chance to answer, you hear your mother’s voice announce, “Alright, everyone, I’m sorry to do this to ya, but I’m gon’ have to close up a little early.”

You whip your head around to see your mother coming out from the backroom and standing behind the counter.

Your mother rarely closes up the shop early, so she either has to be close to dying or she won some kind of lottery to do it now.

Mr. Gibbs, an older man and frequent customer, starts grumbling to himself, but your mother comes up to him with a kind smile and reassures him that he can come back anytime as she guides him out the door.

“What’s going on?” you look from your mother to Mary, but neither of them give you an answer.

Your mother waits for the last customer to walk out the door, before she finally turns to you.

“Mary’s right, honey. This has to end.”

“Are you serious? Is this some kind of intervention?” you scoff and turn to head to the backroom, but your mother stops you.

“Not so fast”

You turn around with a confused look on your face, which doesn’t change as you watch Mary go to pull the shop door open.

Then Mary leans out to say, “Come on in.”

You feel yourself begin to sweat, before you even see him, the small smirk on Mary’s face making it obvious who's waiting right outside. 

Your mouth opens and you subconsciously hold your breath as you look at your mother, shaking your head in disbelief on how she could do something like this to her own daughter. Your mother gives you an unapologetic look as she claps her hands together in front of her.

Is it too late to make a run for it? Maybe you can quickly make it out the back door. Maybe you can hide? Or better yet, make the ground could just open up and swallow you whole to avoid all of this.

It’s when you finally see all of him as he steps through the door that your heart drops to the bottom of your stomach.

Stack Moore.

“Evenin’ ladies,” Stack greets, taking off his hat and calmly placing his empty hand into his pocket as he steps further inside. He gives your mother a nod, before his eyes land on you.

There’s no anger or disappointment behind his eyes from what you can see, just curiosity and his usual charming smile.

“We’ll give you two some time to talk,” Mary looks you in the eye as smirks and walks out.

You know hate is a strong word, but that’s just how you feel towards her right now, even if you know you’re going to eventually forgive her.

Is it hot in here or is it just you?

Your mother hums in agreement, before she leans in to whisper, “Close y’mouth, dear.”

You shoot her a glare as she backs away with a knowing grin, but you do close your mouth.

Your eyes follow her as she walks out of the shop and closes the door behind her. Even as you're left alone in silence with Stack not too far from you, you still keep your eyes on the door, not yet ready to look at him.

Stack’s eyes haven’t left you once, watching as you avoid him and shift under his stare. He notices the slight shine on your forehead from the thin layer of sweat forming and the way you fidget with your fingers, both tells of your nervousness.

Stack moves casually and begins to walk around the store, taking his time as he takes in everything. Things have changed since the last time he’s been here, and a sense of pride and respect filling him as he sees how much progress you and your mother have made over the years.

He doesn’t touch anything as he looks, keeping one hand in his pocket and the other holding his hat. The sound of his steps coming in contact with the wooden floorboards seem amplified with the silence surrounding the two of you.

You find your gaze shifting to the floor in front of you, suddenly becoming really interested in the old and worn floorboards that have needed to be fixed for a while. Maybe it’s finally time to get them fixed. 

Better yet, maybe one of the floorboards will cave in and help you get out of this situation.

“Long time no see, Pea,” you hear Stack say, still walking around. “It’s obvious why I ain’t seen you around in a while–”

It is?

“–You’ve had to help run a family business, and y’know I know a thing or two about businesses. It ain’t easy, I understand. You have to build relationships with the customers and make sure they know they can trust you so they come back–”

Where is this going?

You’re still looking everywhere but him.

“-Communication is an important tool to being successful, and it’s obvious that you and your mama already understand that part–”

Okay?

“–So I think you can understand why I’m a little confused on why you feel you can’t communicate with me.” Stack ends his stroll right in front of you as his rant comes to an end. “What’s up with that?”

There it is.

Stack looks at you with an expectant look on his face, his eyebrows raised as he waits for you to speak.

“How’d you even know I was here?” you grumble, taking a step back as you suddenly feel too close to him.

“Mary told me. She and your mama got together and said that I should meet them here because you would be working.” You huff out a laugh because of course they did. “Come on, Pea. I asked you a question.”

You honestly don’t know what to say because there’s not much that you can say, except for the truth. Your mouth opens and closes, then opens and closes again as you try to find the right words to say.

You get frustrated and finally throw your hands up in the air. “I just–I don’t know, okay. I needed some time to myself…to think.”

“To think? Think about what? It’s been days, Pea.”

Stack follows you as you move to tidy up the front of the store. You’re behind the check out counter and Stack stands in front of you on the other side. He lays his hat down and leans onto the counter.

“Everything. Life. Me. Us.”

“Us?” Stack furrows his eyebrows. He watches as you clean the counter, but his patience begins to run low, so he snatches the rag you were using out of your hand. “What’s goin’ on, Pea? Talk to me.”

You think back to what Mary had told you; about how there’s no point in stressing over all of this and how you should just come clean to Stack because he chooses you. 

So, you decide to listen to her advice, and quickly spit it out before you have a chance to chicken out.

“Do you really want to be with me?” you ask. After hearing yourself say it, though, you hate how sad your words sound. You fold your arms across your chest as a defense mechanism.

Stack is visibly taken back. “What the hell kind of question is that? Of course I wanna be with you, you think I would be goin’ through all of this trouble if I didn’t?”

Like Mary had said.

“It’s just…” you start, but you trail off.

“This is ‘cause of Liza, ain’t it?” Stack asks, already knowing the answer to it.

You raise your eyebrows as you look at him, surprised. “What makes you say that?”

“Because the day you met her was the last time I saw you. Somethin’ was off about you after we ran into her.  I didn’t notice it at the time, but after thinkin’ about it, it just made sense.”

“Well, even though she did have an effect on me, she isn’t the main reason for how I feel.”

“And what is it that you feel, Pea, you ain’t tellin’ me anything!”

Just spit it out. 

“I feel like I’m not good enough for you,” you breathe.

Stack’s mouth closes as he takes in what you just said. You can see the gears turning in his head as he looks back at you and just blinks. You look away and down at the old counter. 

The shop falls into an uncomfortable silence, only the sounds of both yours and Stack’s breathing filling the space.

When you notice that Stack isn’t going to say anything right away, you continue. “I feel like you could have any other girl in the world because you’re you, Elias ‘Stack’ Moore. You’ve travelled the world and you’ve obviously come across many beautiful women, and unfortunately, I find it hard to believe that you’re choosing me after everything and everyone  you’ve experienced. Yes, Liza is gorgeous, and yes, I felt—and still feel—that she is the better choice for you.”

Stack’s expression is unreadable as he listens to you.

“We’ve been best friends since day one, so it’s only understandable that we’ve remained close  after all this time.” You pause for a second, before continuing. “I guess what I’m saying is that I know what my feelings toward you are, but I want to know if you’re feelings are because you actually see a romantic future with me, or if you’re choosing to be with me because I’m a safe option and it’s what everyone expects.”

You take a deep breath after you finally spill what’s been plaguing your mind. Part of you feels relieved, like a huge weight has been lifted over your shoulders, and the other part of you is full of tension and anxiety as you wait for Stack’s response.

You suddenly feel hot again after revealing your feelings, making you wipe your forehead. You wish he would just hurry up and say something.

Stack stands across from you not knowing where to begin.

“Is this how you’ve always felt, like you ain’t good enough f’me?” Stack’s voice is quiet as he speaks, and you can’t remember the last time you’ve heard him like this. 

“I wouldn’t say always, but lately, yeah.”

“Pea,” Stack shakes his head, “why on earth would you think somethin’ like that? Have I done somethin’ to make you think that? Did someone say  somethin’ to you because if they did, just tell me who–.”

You put your hand up to stop him from going further. “No, no. No one said anything or did anything. This is…all me.”

Stack lowers his head to try and catch your eyes. “Then help me understand because from where I’m standin’, no one else stands a chance against you.”

And hearing those words come from his mouth in that sincere tone that he doesn’t just use on anyone, makes you hold your breath as you stare back at him. You feel something grow in your stomach and you don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Stack pushes himself off of the counter and walks around to where you are behind it, holding your gaze the entire time. Your heart rate picks up again and your throat goes dry as he comes closer. You naturally take a few steps back as he comes to stand in front of you, but you only end up backing yourself into the edge of the counter. 

Stack uses this to his advantage and grabs your hands to hold in his. He’s not letting you get away again without a fight.

“You say you’re a ‘safe option’ because of our history, but that’s not how I see it. Yeah, I’ve been across the world, but that don’t mean I was fuckin’ women left and right the whole time. Yeah, women came up to me, but that don’t mean I gave every single one of them the time of day. Now, I will admit that I did sleep with three women throughout those years, but that don’t mean that I felt anythin’ for ‘em. Liza was not one ‘em either; Smoke and I just used her to get close to her father, and she obviously keeps gettin’ her hopes up. Smoke and I kept each other grounded while we were gone.”

A breath leaves you after hearing Stack admit to not sleeping with Liza. You can't even blame Liza because, who wouldn’t?

“You may think that you’re not as ‘beautiful’ as any other woman you might see, but that’s not how I feel, Pea. You’re more attractive than most of the women I’ve encountered, and I ain’t just sayin’ that to make you feel better, I’m tellin’ you this because it’s how I really feel. It’s my truth. You’re intelligent, hardworking, kind, and damn near perfect.”

A smile grows on Stack’s lips as he watches you laugh at him calling you perfect. It’s a word you’ve never used to describe yourself, only others. He knows you’re going to object to the fact when he sees you open your mouth, so he jokingly tightens his grip on your hands as he continues.

“You don’t know how hard it is to come across a woman like you anywhere else, and even if she’s somewhere out there, I don’t want her ‘cause I already have you. Everythin’ that makes you you is what makes you beautiful. You’re in a league of your own, baby.”

That’s the first time Stack has called you ‘baby’, and apparently your legs know too because they feel like jello underneath you. You don’t know how you’re going to get through this.

It’s definitely hot in here, right?

Stack releases the hold he has on your hands to place them on either side of your face. You feel like your feet are stuck to the ground as Stack comes even closer into your personal space. As much as you want to pull away, everything about him is keeping you near.

“Now, I only agreed to take things slow because that’s what you wanted, and y’know I wouldn’t do anythin’ to make you uncomfortable, but, Pea, I am so serious about you. Of course, I see a future with you, I want you by my side at all times because you’ve changed me. You don’t know how crazy I was goin’ after not hearin’ from you all that time. I hate to admit it, but I damn near lost my mind, and I don’t wanna go through that again if I can help it. I love you, Pea–”

And just like that, all of your thoughts seem to leave your mind to allow you to fully focus on what Stack has just confessed. 

“–and, yeah, I always have, but this is different. I don’t know how else to convince you or what else to say except for that I love you,” he repeats. “I always have and I always will. You ain’t gotta say it now ‘cause I know how you feel about–”

You don’t think as you cut him off by surging forward and pressing your lips to his. 

Both of you are shocked by your sudden boldness; you eyes widen and you freeze when you realize what you’ve just done, and you hear a startled noise leaves Stack.

Just as you go to pull away, Stack says, “Nah, where’re you goin’? You can’t just do that and not finish it,” before closing the space between you once again.

This time, you allow yourself to melt into him as he wraps his arms around you and presses against your back, pulling you further into his chest as your lips move against his. 

Your arms make their way around his shoulders to pull him down by the neck, and you feel Stack back away slightly to laugh at this, his breath fanning against your face, before smashing his lips back into yours.

To anyone looking in on the outside, the kiss might seem rushed, but you and Stack know that this is from both of your combined feelings that have been pent up over time; from your insecurities being silenced by Stack’s confessions and admissions; from the tension that’s been growing and overflowing in Stack’s body now being released.

It’s impossible for you and him to get any closer, but that doesn’t stop you guys from trying as you both continue to grab and pull one another. 

Stack ends up pushing your back against the edge of the counter even more, and any other time the pressure would be uncomfortable, but, right now, you couldn’t care less.

When your lips finally disconnect, Stack leans his forehead against yours for a moment while the two of you catch your breath, before fully pulling away.

“I love you, too,” you shyly confess, and to this Stack grins.

“I choose you, Pea, I always will,” Stack assures, and his tone leaves no room in your mind for doubt.

His hands are on your waist, but one of them leaves to grab ahold of one of your hands again. He dips his head down to place a gentle kiss on the back of your hand, and he smirks when he sees you rolling your eyes.

You let out a fake dramatic sigh. “I guess, we’re stuck together.”

Yeah, he has gone soft, but he doesn’t care.

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