#female oc x michael
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Quid Pro Quo | Michael Gavey x fem!reader
Summary: After being ditched by her friend at the Trinity College Christmas Party, she finds herself enthralled with learning the language of Michael Gavey | Word Count: 3.8k~ | Warnings below the cut!
Part Two: Carpe Diem
Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici
warnings: virgin michael, semi-public sexual conduct, oral sex (m receiving), heavy petting
If she has to listen to Professor Wardon swoon over Ancient Greek and how it ‘drove him to pursue his dreams in extending his passion to other students’, she thinks she might actually fall asleep.
She's in a good spot to do so, nestled between two other students, the one on her right seemingly just as bored as her, and conveniently hidden behind a tall, lanky first year, who sits straight, with his head perfectly obscuring hers as he fixes his posture regularly.
Several times throughout, she's checked her watch, and yet the second hand never seems to move an inch.
Professor Wardon is just about to go on a lovesick spiel about Homeric Greek when the lecture concludes with a heaved sigh from every student as they sling their hefty bags over their shoulders.
“Remember I want 2,500 words on Les Liaisons dangereuses in my pigeon hole by next Thursday, before your Christmas parties!”
“Oh joy,” she sighs with a grin to the girl walking shoulder to shoulder beside her as they leave, feeling noticeably lighter knowing that that's their last lecture before Christmas break.
“Christ, you're telling me. I can't be arsed to even right my own name at the moment, nevermind read 18th century fucking French.”
She gives a snort in reply, “Merry Christmas to us, eh? Should do what the French do and have a revolution or something.”
“Yeah, eat our lecturers or something.”
“Alright, I wouldn't go that far.”
“Anyway, I'm off to T Library, see ya, have a good Christmas and don't do anything I wouldn't!”
She waves her off as her friend disappears, the cold air of the outside nipping at her skin that manages to sneak beneath her coat.
Oxford University is not what she imagined at all. She came here very much feeling like an outsider, like there'd been some sort of paperwork mistake and it was supposed to be someone else in her place.
The imposter syndrome seemed difficult to shift, but she'd at least managed to make a couple of friends since starting in September.
Languages had always found her well, and seemingly the only thing she managed to actually understand. People were inconsistent, cruel and fickle. Languages, though they shifted and changed, were firmly rooted in reason and understanding.
As sad as it sounded, conjugating verbs, vowel shifts and rare dialects were the one thing she found herself itching to discover more about. The idea that there was more to uncover seemed exciting and scary at the same time.
And Oxford University was the best place she could be to do that.
All that said, her eagerness to get involved with her studies had left her social life with much to be desired.
In the first two weeks of university alone, she'd gained one friend and lost a boyfriend. And while they were drifting apart anyway, it was still a relatively large blow to her self-esteem and her confidence to actually get out there, socialise and make the most of her first year of freedom.
The only friends she'd made were those on her course. Priya, who'd just abandoned her to stick her nose in books about the Great Vowel Shift, and Anya, who…to be honest, rarely left her room. Seeming more like a ghost than anything else.
It was a wonder she was still a student, with how often she missed classes.
What Anya does do best, is manage to somehow rise out of her pit to drag her to Christmas parties that aren't even run by their college.
Which is why she finds herself somehow at Trinity College campus, where she eyes several scantily clad women wearing revealing Santa costumes adorned with itchy tinsel.
Anya is the sort of girl who, well, every girl kind of wants to be. So much so she sort of wonders why she hangs around with her. She's pretty, fit and fucking clever. Her only downfall is her taste in men, so often being Oxford pretty boys.
So it is absolutely no surprise at all, when two jägerbombs in, Anya has somehow slipped into the arms of one aforementioned Oxford pretty boy, seeming in every way a clone of the previous, with the exception of the way he pairs his Ayia Nappa top with his low rise jeans and the only effort to conform to theme, is a pair of plastic reindeer antlers on his head bobbling side to side.
She grimaces as she watches them suck each other's faces off in a dark corner of the room, ‘Stay Another Day’ by East 17 blaring with a cheap crackle through the speakers as she makes her way through the bodies to somewhere quiet.
She sighs, nursing the rum and coke Anya had sloppily poured her in one hand as she closes the door behind her, shutting out the drunken squeals and cheers for the peace of a quiet common room.
It's still decorated, she notes, but empty. Maybe she could lurk here until Anya is done, if she ever will be.
The deep clack of a pool ball being sucked into a socket makes her jump, realising perhaps that she was not actually alone, as she'd previously thought.
The cool light hung above the battered pool table illuminates his deep red jumper, and the first thing she sees is the way he leans on one leg, standing straight as if he was imitating the rigid pool cue leant before him. The yellow lined detailing around the cuffs highlights his small wrists and big hands that stretch from it as he rubs blue chalk onto the tip.
Her eyes trail up the back of his neck, past the lazy waves of dark blonde hair, clearly due a trim at some point, and to his face, even from this angle able to see how his features sit. With a sharp nose and jawline, and black skinny glasses perched above his cheekbones.
She almost laughs at the way he's almost as tall as the light that illuminates the table, half-thinking that she might never have seen such a strange and yet interesting looking guy.
“Didn't fancy the party?” she finally says, alerting him to her presence.
She doesn't quite expect the way the light bounces off his sharp features, sinking his blue eyes in shadow as his head turns to her with an expression of boredom.
“Not particularly, no.”
His voice is lighter than she thought it would be and part of her wonders if he's putting it on. He presses his glasses further up his nose before assessing his next shot, stalking around the table.
“Why's that?”
This time, when he answers, he doesn't look at her. He simply leans down, and aims.
“Not. Fucking. Invited,” he replies bitterly, missing a yellow, “that's why.”
Her fingertips moisten against the glass as the ice begins to melt, but she pays it no mind.
“So you're lurking about in here instead.”
He plays with the cue in one hand, barely sparing a second glance, a bitter, quiet laugh escaping him.
He misses another red before he heaves a sigh, straightening to look at her again.
“You here alone as well?” he asks dispassionately.
She smiles lazily and shrugs.
“My mate is…a bit preoccupied, if you know what I mean,” she replies, taking an awkward sip of the now watered down drink, “like you, I don't really think these are my thing either.”
He seems to consider her statement for a moment.
“Why come then?”
She shrugs again, “trying to be sociable.”
“With those vapid cunts? Good luck getting any intelligent conversation out of them.”
She watches as he picks up the blue chalk again, applying more when he doesn't even need it in sort of a nervous gesture, his blue eyes averted and pretending to assess his next move.
There's something about him. How judgemental he is and how he forms his words. Perhaps she hadn't expected this sort of guy to be so outwardly honest with his opinions, and for the most part, she can't say she disagrees with the message, just the way in which he said it.
“Can I play?” She asks, leaning over to put her drink down.
“What are you reading?” He asks so suddenly, and out of context, that she does a double take.
She raises her eyebrows, smiling, “Does my answer depend on if I get to play or not?”
There's no answer from him. Shocker of the century.
“Modern Languages.”
“Fucking hell,” he groans.
She's a bit too happy and dizzy on rum to get defensive.
“Is that one of those subjects that sounds way less interesting than it actually ends up being?”
She gives a breathy laugh, “just like languages.”
He hums, as if the answer didn't impress him, “more of a science and numbers man myself, obviously.”
For a moment, it's lost on her why it's obvious.
He takes a sip of his, no doubt, stale beer, wetting his lips after, “Your name is?”
She narrows her eyes teasingly, smiling as she leans against the table, “quid pro quo.”
She enjoys the brief confusion on his face, before he realises what she's said.
“Okay, okay, Michael.”
She smiles, “See? You know what that meant. Who says you're not a languages man?”
It's the first time he seems to duck his head, hiding a blush she's barely able to see.
“I don’t think the Ancient Roman idea of fair exchange warrants the title of ‘languages man’.”
The blue chalk comes off on his hands as he fiddles nervously with it.
“So, am I bestowed the privilege of playing?”
He raises his head, and she can tell he's trying his damndest to not let a little beer-induced smile pass his lips.
“I suppose I could allow you to embarrass yourself in front of me for a bit, if you insist. We'll have to share a cue though.”
She doesn't have the heart to tell him her uncle was a pool player, and so by extension, has played pool for most of her upbringing. Rather, he finds out himself when she pots three yellows in a row.
It's either the alcohol or pity that kicks in when she misses the fourth, holding the cue for him to take.
“You being good at pool wasn't on my bingo card,” he mutters with some nervous teasing in his voice.
They go back and forth for a bit, missing some, potting some, with interspersed conversation between.
“Thought you might have been a Norman-no -mates, like me,” he says quietly as he watches her assess her next shot. Bending to aim.
“You're not far off,” she replies, “first fortnight I was down a boyfriend. Since then, I've only been up two friends and one of them is in the other room having ditched me for the shag of a lifetime.”
She doesn't see it until after she takes the shot, the way his eyes flit back to hers quickly as she rights herself to stand.
Was he checking me out?
As if he was lagging, he only laughs now at what she's said.
“What about you?” She asks, “no girls, or boys, on the scene?”
He blushes a lot when she asks that. And she can't help the fluttering in her chest she feels that someone might find her attractive.
“Can’t say there is.”
She stands close, passing the cue to him, electricity warming her fingertips as she grazes his.
“And why not?”
He scoffs bitterly, “have you seen me?” he mutters, wandering around the table, suddenly unable to shake the feeling of her gaze, “Not too many girls out there looking for the stereotypical nerdy math boy, really.”
“Hm,” she hums, “how unfortunate for them.”
He sinks a red, picking at his red jumper.
“Yeah, they're clearly missing out, huh?”
The bitter and self-deprecating tone of his voice makes her heart sink a bit. He's not a bad looking guy, she thinks. His style, glasses, hair, she would almost say look actually quite cute.
Maybe that's the thing he doesn't like.
“No interest? Or is maths the only one for you?”
He misses the next shot and sighs, holding the cue for her to take, “clearly, the only one I need.”
She steps close to retrieve, taking her time, looking up at him as she does. At this proximity, Michael sucks in a breath quietly, his lips, which she can't say she'd noticed until right this moment, parting and his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes flit rapidly down her.
A warmth swirls in her gut at that.
She circles the table, “what about in the past?”
He leans against the other side, his hand on the cushion, long fingers splayed on the green fabric. She has to shake her head to break her own trance.
“Can’t say my love life has exactly been a roaring success, honestly.”
The way he says it.
She wouldn't be surprised if he was…
Oh.
“So what? You're focussed on your studies?”
She misses. Too set on the conversation rather than the game.
He gives a mirthless laugh, “Sure.”
She rounds the table, holding the cue for him to take, but when he reaches for it, she pulls back with a smirk.
“So we've established you're not one for languages,” she starts, and Michael furrows his brows in confusion, “have you ever really asked for what you want? Ever?”
He seems to miss what she's trying to say.
“Have you been with a girl?”
At that, his eyes widen slightly, a blush crawling up his neck to the tips of his ears, cheeks near matching his shirt.
She knows she has her answer.
“Well…I…no, I haven't…”
At chest height, she can see the way his breathing elevates.
“And, hypothetically, if a girl expressed interest. What would you say?”
His lips part for a good few seconds before he gives a reply, “I’d…I um…I guess it depends who…”
It's like he's afraid she'll make fun of him for it.
“What about, if it was me?” She asks, her voice lowering as she reaches out to pick some lint off his jumper, like it's the most normal thing in the world. His body goes all rigid as she does.
This isn't normal in his world.
Michael swallows thickly, “you're not taking the Mick out of me, are you?”
She shakes her head, “I just want you to feel comfortable asking for what you want.”
For someone who had so often thought about it, now when faced with the situation, he feels as if he doesn't know what to do or say.
She's still stood with the cue in one hand, close enough so that when she shifts her weight from foot to foot, her knee grazes his leg. It's interesting to watch him think so deeply about it. Convinced he's probably never thought of anything so much in his life.
“What if what I want is…you?”
The tension deepens like the tone and volume of his voice. And without effort, a smile finds its way to her face when she looks at his expression. He's frozen stiff, for once, not knowing what to say.
So nothing shocks her more when he grabs the pool cue as a means of pulling her to him, and he has to duck considerably to press his lips clumsily to hers. He's eager, that much is true, but it's clear he's inexperienced. But instead of causing discomfort, she thinks it's quite endearing.
The pool cue clangs to the floor as she braces her hands on his shoulders and chest, guiding his lips with her own in a slower, more careful movement. She feels the edge of the pool table bite into her lower back when he presses her against it, clearly excited, if the hardness that's flush to her stomach is anything to go by.
The hands she had been staring at not half an hour ago are bruising as they trace her waist and hips, with a grip tight enough to tell her exactly how much he's enjoying the experience.
For a moment, they're not in a common room alone, against a pool table, with ‘Cheetah-licious Christmas’ playing in the room over, the bass of which rumbles through the floor and into their chests.
The kiss lasts a long while, and she has a feeling he wants to savour it as if it's the last time he will ever be able to do it.
One of her hands snakes its way to the back of his head, fingers gripping at his hair to pull him closer as either of them tilt to aid more contact between them. And at the little amount of tugging, Michael whines into her mouth, prompting him to pull away.
He looks halfway between mortified and pleased, his glasses having skewed to one side with the eagerness of what they'd done. And she laughs a bit, reaching up to fix them, which seems to make the mortification fade somewhat from his face.
Michael looks down between them, where his obvious erection is pressed to her, and pulls away slightly with a scarlet blush.
“Shit - sorry-”
“It's fine,” she reassures, “no need to be embarrassed.”
The words alone would be enough, if her hand hadn't snaked between their bodies to brush her palm over him. And if it were possible, his flush spreads to his neck, words failing him once more.
Her eyes flicker up to his, their lips all kiss-bruised and swollen.
“If you don't want to-”
“No, no, I want to…” he says, immediately embarrassed about how quick it was.
She smiles, one hand palming him through his jeans and the other trailing up his chest, “Sit down.”
He backs up to sit on a nearby sofa, watching with a kind of adoration as she makes space between his legs, her eyes glimmering at him as she slowly undoes his belt.
“If at any time, you need to stop, tell me.”
He gives a nervous laugh, his stomach muscles tightening, wondering probably if this is really happening to him, “Not sure I will want to…”
She smiles reassuringly, watching as his lips part as she palms him through his boxers, trying to suppress how impressed she is with his size.
It's always the skinny white guys.
“Well, the offer's there.” She smirks, pulling him from his boxers, Michael gives a suffered breath, feeling her touch on him and also her breath so close. He almost feels dizzy. The thought of this happening in this situation, with a party going on next door, is dangerous and exciting in equal measure.
She knows he has very limited experience, so decides not to tease him too much.
Michael gasps softly as she licks at the base of him, drawing a wet line with her tongue along the vein underneath, all the way to the tip. She concentrates her efforts slightly on the sensitive spot there before closing her mouth over the head of his cock, sucking gently.
She feels the way his thighs tense, and the blue disappearing as he closes his eyes. His fists are tight beside him, knuckles white, like he doesn't know if he should touch her or not. All he knows right now is that this feeling is brand new, and the sensation is so much already.
She pulls herself from him to run her tongue over his length, one hand moving to his hand, to encourage him. His blue eyes crack open just a bit, to understand what she's trying to tell him.
And she fights the urge to smile as his longer fingers swipe across her temple into her hair, his touch tender, soft and unsure as he holds her by it.
Her lips wrap around him once more, pushing him further into her mouth, taking him steadily and slowly at first. Michael's hips move barely, chasing the friction that he's getting on his cock when she bobs her head on him and hollows her cheeks.
He watches with parted lips and warm cheeks, moving her hair away so he can watch himself disappear into her mouth over and over. Her hand massages the rest of him, giving him two unique sensations in one, something that earns her a deep, throaty moan.
When her eyes open to look at him, he thinks his heart stops in his chest for a split second. He closes his eyes, not able to bear the way she looks with his cock in her mouth if she looks right at him, feeling that if he did any longer he wouldn't last.
The sounds he emits don't stop there as she increases her pace on him, pressing her tongue to the underside of him and taking him deeper into her throat, humming around him at the heady scent of his skin.
It's only when she takes him as far as he will go, working hard to control her gag reflex that he gives the first genuine buck of his hips, tightening in her hair and a far-too-loud moan. If anyone in the next room were quiet and paying attention, they'd likely know exactly what was going on.
“Fuck-”
It only serves to spur her on as she pulls back, moving in a more steady, quick rhythm, that she is sure Michael is loving judging by the rate of his moans and the way he chokes out his words.
His stomach clenches and unclenches, his high creeping up on him as her mouth tightens around his length.
“Shit - you need to - I'm gonna -” he chokes, weakly tugging her hair in an effort to pull her mouth off him before he cums.
If she didn't have his cock in her mouth she'd smile.
Her hand squeezes the base of him, and Michael throws his head back slightly, a long shuddered and choked moan reverberating through his chest. She swears she feels his thighs shake as she stills, warm ropes of his cum taste musky at the back of her throat.
His loud moan is followed quickly by more softer ones as her throat contracts to swallow as much as she can, briefly increasing the tension and friction around his sensitive length.
When she pulls off him with a pleased sigh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Michael sits up slightly, having to gather his breath.
“Fucking hell…”
She takes it as a compliment and rises to her feet, her hands smoothing her skirt back down.
And she squeaks in delight as Michael quickly tucks himself away, barely doing up his jeans buttons before backing her up to the pool table again, kissing her fervently.
“What about you…do I…” he starts when he breaks away, panting softly. She smiles at the notion but shakes her head. This experience was for him alone.
“Not right now, don't feel inclined to,” she reassured, her hands on his chest, feeling the way his heart is beating rapidly beneath it.
“Right now?” he asks with a quiet, unsure tone, “does that mean…there's gonna be a next time?”
His tone is careful, and yet, she is able to detect something like desire there. An excitement for more, without seeming too eager so that he's not let down if she says no. Something that makes it clear he is 100% on board.
She bites back a grin.
“Quid Pro Quo, Michael.”
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Love Thy Neighbour (gr63) - Part One
↳ A/N Still waiting for Apple to invent the iTimeMachine so I can go back to the 80s when Andrew Ridgeley was in his prime. Anyway, please enjoy house husband George slaying the 1980s suburbia. Comments, reblogs, and predictions are always welcome!!
↳ Inspired By: 'Everything She Wants' by Wham! and 'Heartbeat' by Wham!
↳ Summary: It’s the end of summer 1984 and you and your perfect little family moves into a quaint suburban neighbourhood to escape the hustle and bustle of the Manhattan lifestyle. Your next door neighbours are a picture-perfect family of their own - or so it seems from the outside. But, as you spend more time with the handsome husband, the cracks in your own 'perfect' marriage start to come to light.
↳ Pairings: George Russell x Neighbour!Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)
↳ Word Count: 22.6k
↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, slow burn, cheating/adultery (i don't condone this but, boy, does it make for a juicy plot), use of explicit language, female masturbation, non-consenting voyeurism, oral (f receiving), fingering, dirty talk, choking, unprotected sex (and extramarital creampie)
September 1984
The house was straight out of the recent issue of Better Home magazine and even as you stepped out of the passenger seat of the station wagon, you were in awe of the New England architecture. Crisp white siding and red painted shutters over spotless picture windows; it was hard to believe it was all yours. It was nowhere near the small ancient apartment that you were used to in the city - although you certainly wore that place thin until the seams were bursting. It was about time you made the move out of Manhattan and into the nearby suburbs. The American Dream was in the palm of your hand.
Your husband, Andrew, set his hand on the small of your back and dangled the set of shiny keys over your shoulder with his other, “Want to test the locks?”
You smiled back at him and grabbed them out of his hand before hurrying along the front path to the modest porch and welcoming front door. He followed behind you closely, glancing over his shoulder on the way in expectation of a follower of his own, but the young boy was already busy rushing across the freshly mowed lawn.
“Richard,” your husband called for him as you turned the key in the lock, the faint remnants of his English accent ghosting through his words, “Come see inside!”
Unbothered, your five-year-old son didn’t even look up as he dropped to his knees beside the garden bed, “No thanks!”
You glanced across the sprawling green grass yourself, “Don’t you want to see your room?”
The little boy’s head perked up in your direction at your very convincing offer and his big brown eyes shone in the sunlight. He shot up from the ground, “Okay!”
He took the four front stone steps with ease and rushed right past you into the house, making a beeline right for the straight run staircase just inside. You called a reminder after him to hold the handrail but he was already at the top by the time the final word left your mouth.
Still on the front porch, you and your husband shared calm little smiles over your shared adoration for your little boy, and then he was gesturing you inside first. You stepped over the threshold onto the hardwood floors and you took your time soaking in the modern floral wallpaper that trimmed the foyer and led into the formal living room through the archway to the right. It looked so empty without furniture but it also held so much promise and possibility within the brand new walls.
Through the living room you could loop into the dining room that overlooked the spacious backyard framed in lush trees and a wooden fence separating the property from the neighbours on either side. The backyard view was perfect from the kitchen sink, giving you a perfect spot to keep an eye on your son playing while you could do the dishes or prep dinner. You had fallen in love with this house the moment you saw it in the real estate section of the newspaper - a new build in a quaint suburb of Connecticut - but at first glance you had figured it would only be a dream. It was hard to believe that your husband and your finances were on board. With a growing little boy, it was time to move out of that tiny one-and-a-half bedroom apartment in Manhattan. Now, with three full bedrooms upstairs, the future was far more open.
You hadn’t realized you were daydreaming at the empty kitchen sink before your husband gave your shoulders a squeeze, bringing you back to your content reality, “The moving truck should be here soon. Should we start unpacking the car?”
Leaning back into him, you agreed with a smile, “Alright.”
He wrapped his arms around your middle and pressed a kiss to your cheek before he was pulling away just as quickly and disappearing into the foyer and towards the front door.
Andrew always lived a lively life and somehow you managed to keep up. He always wanted to be out doing things such as date nights on the town rather than picking up after-hour client dinners just to socialize and bring in more money for his company - and, ultimately, himself and your family. It was so nice when you were younger and you were in love and willing to follow him to the ends of the earth but the reality of parenthood made you more tired than you used to be. Suddenly, nights out felt tedious and the airtime was always filled with business talk or discussions of Richard’s school. It all felt a bit like a chore. But maybe that just came with growing up. You were loved, you were secure, and you had a beautiful roof over your head. You swore you had nothing to complain about.
The moving truck pulled into your driveway not long after your trusty station wagon had only been unpacked about halfway. It was going to be a long day but you tied your hair back and made sure your son was kept busy when you could and Andrew and the movers took over most of the heavy lifting, leaving you to rearrange boxes and direct them inside the house. It was always your responsibility to take care of your son so it wasn’t unusual for you to keep busy with finding him a snack from your cooler once that was brought in from the car. The kitchen table followed not long after from the moving truck and the two of you sat at the table together with Jell-O cups.
Richard would be starting kindergarten in only a week and part of you was worried about what on earth you were going to busy yourself with once he was gone. Being a stay at home mom, your sole job was caring for him and since there were no other kids on your agenda as of yet, you were painfully preparing to be completely alone from 9-3 every week day. You tried not to worry about it as you watched your five-year-old eat his cherry Jell-O and you reached out a hand to brush through his frazzled dark brown hair, trying to pet it down into some sort of order. Even the gel that you had slicked through it that morning seemed to not be doing its job anymore but that seemed to be common with a lively little boy. You truly loved him with everything in you and those big brown eyes could just melt your heart with one look. He was his father’s son through and through.
Being an only child, Richard got bored pretty easily on moving day so it wasn’t long before you sent him outside to the front yard to play while the truck was finished unloading and you and Andrew tended to the organization inside. With the windows open, the late summer air breezed through the freshly painted house and one of the first things you set up was your record player in the living room so you could have some music while you worked.
Soon, Richard came rushing back inside and across the carpeted living room floor in his outdoor running shoes, earning a lightly scolding “Ritchie” out of you.
“Mommy, there’s kids next door. Can I play with them?” he asked, ignoring your quiet scold of his name as he clutched onto the hem of your sky blue shorts pleadingly, batting those sweet long lashes up at you.
You pet your hand over his soft hair, “Sure, baby. Stay close though, okay?”
“Okay!”
He was already halfway out the front door again before the single word reply was even completely out of his mouth. With a few trinkets in your hand that you had been taking out a box of arrange in the curio cabinet, you drifted over to the large picture window overlooking the front lawn. Two kids around Richard’s age were playing on the quiet tree-lined street on big wheel tricycles and your son ran over to them to introduce himself. You smiled fondly at the sociable nature of your son that was quite unlike your own traits, watching the children play for a few more moments as Richard was given a turn on the bike, before you were moving back to your boxes.
As the afternoon wore on and you grew tired, you had just enough energy to make dinner - something simple and quick - and soon you were stepping out onto the front porch to call your son back in to eat. He said goodbye to his two new friends and then hurried over to you just as you noticed two people crossing over your lawn towards you.
“Hey there!” the woman called politely.
Richard stood in front of you nosily, watching them, and he wrapped an arm around your leg. Your next door neighbours approached you across your lawn, a man and woman maybe only a few years your senior, and the man held a white bakeware dish covered in tinfoil in his hands.
“Hi.” you greeted them with a smile.
They were clearly a well kept pair as if they had been cut from a magazine themselves with the husband in tidy blue jeans and a tucked in button up and the wife with her blonde hair tied back in an impressive updo. She had on dress slacks and a blazer with posh shoulder pads, earning a lighthearted envious glance out of you at her style as you accepted her handshake and she spoke again, “I’m Jennifer and this is my husband, George. We just live next door and saw you moving in so we wanted to introduce ourselves.”
“How lovely.” you smiled, moving on to shake her husband’s hand, trying not to be intimidated by the electric blue eyes staring back at you as you introduced yourself and your son.
Your five-year-old peered up at them behind waves of dark hair that tumbled over his big brown eyes despite the way you swooped it out of his face yet again.
“Are those your little ones?” you asked, gesturing over to the street where the two kids were still playing.
Jennifer glanced over to the children before looking back at you, “Yeah. Those are ours. James and Nancy.”
“It was really nice of them to let Ritchie play today.” you started.
The adult conversation got boring quickly for the five-year-old so he slid out from under your maternal touch and slipped inside without a word or goodbye.
“He’s an only child,” you explained, “so he sometimes gets a little lonely…especially in a new neighbourhood and all.”
“Oh, of course.” Jennifer tisked.
“Is he starting school this year?” George asked.
It was the first time you heard him speak apart from a brief greeting drowned out by his wife but it didn’t phase you. The hint of a British accent across his words didn't either, all too used to the same from your own husband. How likely that the suburbs of America brought two Brits as next-door neighbours. Comedically written in the stars, or something of the sort.
“Yeah, he’ll be starting kindergarten next week.” you exhaled, “Big steps.”
“So is James.” George said, “I’m sure they’ll be in the same class. Would be good for them to have a little friend before being thrown into a classroom.”
“Oh, that’d be great.” you sighed thankfully, setting a hand to your chest, “Even that alone brings so much ease to the conscience. I’ve been worried about how he’d transition to this whole new place.”
George smiled knowingly, “And especially when your first is going off to school for the first time.”
“Definitely.”
Footsteps across the foyer floor behind you pulled your attention away from your new neighbours to your husband stepping out onto the porch with you to see what was taking so long - undoubtedly you were tattled on by your five-year-old. You welcomed his arm around your waist as you introduced your new neighbours to him and him to them and they shared brief pleasantries.
“We won’t keep you.” Jennifer took a step back, “I know it’s probably close to dinner time.”
George took one step up onto the stone stairs of your porch to offer out the bakeware, “We just wanted to bring you a little something to say welcome to the neighbourhood.”
“That’s so thoughtful. Thank you so much!” you took it from him.
“Such a nice change to have nice neighbours after the nightmare of living in Manhattan.” Andrew joked.
“Oh, totally. We don’t mess with the city-dwellers.” George waved his hand casually, rising light laughter among your little group. He took a step back towards his wife who was already clearly trying to urge him back towards their house, but he reiterated honestly, “Anything you need, we’re right next door. Don’t be strangers.”
“Thanks a lot!” Andrew raised his hand up in a brief wave and you wished them a good night as they herded their two kids back towards their house and you were gently steered back inside by your husband.
The apple crisp was placed on the kitchen counter and you served some for dessert to your little family. It wasn’t chocolate, candy, or ice cream so Richard wasn’t too impressed, but as adults, you and Andrew both swore it was the best dessert you had in a while - even surpassing your own. You made a mental note to find a way to thank the neighbours next time you saw them.
Having just moved in, your available time was few and far between throughout that weekend and into the beginning of the following week. Your plethora of boxes that needed unpacking as well as your young son who needed to be prepared and set for his first day of school kept you busy and it didn’t help that after the weekend, Andrew was back to work full time, needing to leave earlier to commute into the city and ultimately getting home later for that same reason. You were just appreciating the last few days you had with your son before he was going to be in school for the next two decades. The looming loneliness almost had you craving another baby but the time just never felt right.
Wednesday was Richard’s first day of school and he was that perfect expected mix of nervous and excited. He was already eating his cereal at the kitchen table with his eyes glued to the TV in the adjacent family room when Andrew returned from his early morning run to get ready for work before the sun had even passed the horizon. With a five-year-old, every morning was an early morning but a commuting husband only stressed that fact further.
In his white t-shirt and short white Fila shorts, Andrew was quite the looker as he joined you and your son in the kitchen for good morning kisses before he had to run upstairs to shower and get ready for the day. The white clothing stood out against his tanned skin and dark features right down to the white socks and running shoes. He was still that tall, dark, and handsome stranger you fell in love with those few short years ago and the way your eyes trailed after his legs in those itty bitty shorts only had the desire to fill the second bedroom upstairs heating across your cheeks. But you quickly turned back to your work at the counter prepping Richard’s lunch for school.
Andrew was gone in under an hour and your driveway was left empty as he took the family car for his commute to the train station where he would then take transit into the city. Since the car would be gone every day, Richard was set to take the school bus to school which was a whole new experience for both the five-year-old and yourself. You held his hand as you closed your front door behind you and started on your short walk down the front path of your house and along the curb of the street to the bus stop. Richard’s blue backpack looked almost huge on his back and he carried his metal Flintstones lunch box in the hand that wasn’t claimed by yours.
At the nearest intersection in your quiet suburbia, a few parents and kids were already standing there and waiting for the bus. Richard tugged at your hand and when you looked down at him, he took his hand out of yours to point to the small forming crowd, “I see James, Mommy!”
“You can go run and say hello. I won’t go anywhere.” you promised.
He rushed across the street to the sidewalk and met up with his neighbourly friend he had met on moving day. Sure enough, James’ father was also waiting for the bus to arrive like some of the other parents with his daughter sitting in his arms, and as you approached, you shared quiet ‘good morning’s.
“First day jitters?” you asked lightheartedly.
“Yeah,” George sighed with a melancholy smile, “Although more so me, apparently.”
“Preaching to the choir.” you agreed.
There was a pause as you both stared fondly at your boys talking excitedly together with their seemingly huge backpacks and perfectly styled first-day-of-school hair. You sensed yourself being stared at so you looked back to him only to find the culprit being his young daughter perched in his arms.
“Good morning to you too.” you said sweetly to her. She smiled shyly and leaned her head against George’s as if to hide from you as a stranger.
He rubbed her back and coaxed her, “Say ‘good morning’, Nance.”
She shook her head and tightened her little arms around his shoulders.
“Oh, I wanted to thank you and your wife for the delicious apple crisp.” you said, steering the subject away from the unwanted attention to the shy little girl. George glanced at you as you continued, “Andrew and I agreed that it was the best we’ve ever had.”
“That’s great to hear! I’m glad you enjoyed it. I just found the recipe in the recent issue of Home Cooking magazine and thought I’d give it a try.”
Your eyes widened, “You made it?”
George chuckled, “Yeah. I made it. Is that so hard to believe?”
“Well…no…I guess not.” you stammered, trying to collect your words before you embarrassed yourself, “I’ve just never seen my husband pick up a measuring cup yet alone a whole recipe in all six years we’ve been together. I’m impressed.”
He simply shrugged modestly and gave his daughter a little bounce to try and bring a smile to her face, “Baking is just something I like to do in my spare time when I’m not running after these two crazies.”
“I’ll get that bakeware back to you this week. Don’t want to keep you from your passion projects.”
“No rush!” George promised, “I have plenty.”
“Mommy!” Richard ran right into your legs, burying his face against your thigh, and you only had to glance up to find the cause of his panic was the yellow school bus turning the corner.
“Aw, Ritchie.” you smiled fondly and crouched down in front of him to take his soft face in your hands, “You and James are gonna have so much fun today! And when you get home, I will meet you right here in this very same spot and we’re going to have spaghetti and meatballs for dinner…your favourite.”
He threw his arms around your neck and you held him close as the bus stopped by the curb and opened the doors for the kids. The older few got on with no issues but a few of the younger ones were facing the similar sense of anxiety as Richard was. Even James was lingering close to George despite the way he tried to play it off.
“Okay, my handsome boy.” you gently guided your son away from you and pressed a kiss to his cheek, “The faster you go, the faster you come home!”
He nodded sadly.
George added with a pat to his son’s head, “You two stick together today, alright?”
The boys nodded.
You told your son you loved him and left him with one more kiss before he and his new friend were getting on the school bus together with the rest of the kids. You and George waited there until the bus was long gone around the corner and the other parents started to disperse. Since you were next door neighbours, the two of you walked back towards home together with the added company of George’s daughter still in his arms.
“What are your plans for today?” he asked you casually as you navigated the tree lined street.
“Still unpacking a little.” you confessed. “I feel like it’s been going on forever.”
“I don’t miss that.” he chuckled faintly, “When Jenn and I moved here when we were expecting James it felt like we were never going to get out of the hoard of boxes.”
“Truly. But I just put on my records and get busy.” you shrugged, tucking your hands in the pockets of your blue jeans.
“Are you much of a music listener?” George asked.
“Oh, yes. I’ve been playing Bryan Adam’s album on basically repeat since it came out last year.”
“Cuts Like A Knife?”
You looked over at him with a grin, “Yeah! You know it?”
“Of course. I’m quite into music myself.”
“So is Andy.” you looked back to the street beneath your feet with each slow step side by side, “We met in a music club one night back in ‘78 and you could say he literally swept me off my feet. He plays some guitar but I can’t play an instrument to save my life. We’re hoping Ritchie gets his talent.”
A small smirk tugged at the corner of George’s lips but he nodded modestly, “That’s great. Jenn and I have the same mindset for our two - although I don’t know if she has any musical talent because she claims she never has the time.”
“Maybe I should use that excuse.” you chuckled, “I might deafen you if I ever pick up Andy’s guitar - or if he ever lets me. So if you hear anything that sounds like a dying cat from the next house over, that’s just me and my wonderful musical renditions.”
Stopping by the curb between your two houses, George shared in your smile and your gaze lingered on the way his light eyes shone in the morning sun. He hiked his daughter a bit higher on his hip and readjusted his hands under her bum as he replied smoothly, “I doubt you’re that bad.”
You waved your hand passively as if to brush off his niceties, “You don’t know the half of it. Anyway, all you’ll be hearing is my record player. Please tell me if it gets too loud and disruptive. I can get carried away sometimes.”
“I won’t, but it’s a kind offer.” he smiled with a cock of his head. “Seems you like good music anyway so who am I to complain?”
You set your hands on your hips with an up-turn of your nose in his direction, a mirrored amused smile on your lips at his playfulness, “Well then, I take my role as neighbourhood DJ very seriously. Any requests, you know where I live.”
“I might take you up on that; watch out.”
Your conversation naturally faded out under the waving shade of the lush trees that stretched over your suburban street like a canopy and Nancy tapped George’s cheek shyly to get his attention. He looked at her expectantly and she leaned in to whisper to him under the presence of a stranger - you. The quietness of his youngest had George smiling fondly and he rubbed her back with a soft “okay” before looking to you,
“We have to head back - important date with cartoons and snacks are awaiting us.”
“Of course.” you took a step back towards your lawn, “It was nice seeing you again.”
“You too. And I’m sure we’ll see each other again in the same spot at 3pm sharp.”
You nodded, “That we will.”
Then, he headed across the lawn towards his house that was nestled closely beside yours and with the satisfaction of a nice conversation with your new neighbour fresh in your heart, you made your way into your own house to start your first day all alone.
It wasn’t until the next day that you were able to bring over the bakeware to your neighbours’ since you wanted to make a point to wash it first. Richard was off at school again and after lunch you walked across your shared lawn to the house beside yours, sparkling white dish in your hands. You ascended the few stone steps to the front door and knocked against the glass, hidden from the inside by sheer curtains. After only a few moments, someone appeared behind the door and then it was opened to reveal George.
He smiled warmly at you, “Hey, neighbour.”
You couldn’t hide your slight startle from seeing him, trying to play it cool with a friendly smile and the bakeware held out towards him, “Hi. I brought back your dish. Washed up and everything.”
“Oh, thanks so much.” he took it from you, “You didn’t have to wash it. I’m sure you already have enough on your plate.”
“No trouble. It was the least I could do.” you assured him.
“Did you want to come in?” he asked, “If you don’t have more boxes to unpack.”
You chuckled softly, “I could actually use a break from that overwhelming presence of cardboard.”
“Yeah?” he stepped aside with a warm smile and a cock of his head, “Come on in.”
The wood paneled foyer welcomed you in and you stepped over the threshold with a quiet thank you, your flat shoes landing dully against the linoleum tile floors. George shut the door behind you and led you straight through the modest house towards the kitchen, passed the foyer console table that was lined with photographs of his children around a centred wedding photo of him and Jennifer. Your eyes skimmed them on the way past as you followed him into the kitchen.
“I couldn’t help but expect your wife to answer.” you confessed once you passed by the stairs and entered into the kitchen at the back of the house, the fluorescent lighted ceiling tiles really brightening the space with that 1984 modern touch, “Are you taking the day off?”
“Nope. Everyday is a work day for me. I’m a stay at home dad…Jenn brings home the bacon.” George explained as he opened one of the wood cabinets and crouched down to stack the clean bakeware with the rest under the counter. He then walked around the small island to the corner of the kitchen where the kettle was resting on the stove, “Would you like tea or anything?”
“Tea would be lovely.”
He filled the kettle at the kitchen sink before setting it on the stove again and turning on the heat to boil the water. You stood just out of the way, head whirling with the concept that he was the one who stayed home while his wife worked. You couldn’t help but be nosy.
“So what does Jennifer do for work?”
George opened the fridge to take out the carton of milk, “She’s an executive assistant to some big shot CEO in the city. He’s pretty demanding so she’s always somewhere or another.”
“That’s impressive.”
“Yeah, I’m proud of her.” George pulled a tight lipped smile as he fetched two mugs from one of the cupboards and set them on the counter as the kettle boiled. “We knew when we got married that we wanted at least one of us to be home with the kids as they grew up and her job was already pretty set in stone and secure so we agreed that I’d take the at-home responsibilities.”
“Hence the apple crisp skills.”
“Exactly.” George leaned back against the counter opposite you and he crossed his arms over his chest casually, “Although with two little ones, I’m surprised I have time for much of that. It’s so hectic sometimes. I guess that’s the one good thing about James going off to school now; one less kiddo to chase after during the day.”
“Oh, gosh, I’m sure.” you agreed politely before glancing around the unfamiliar house, “Where’s your other?”
“Napping. We went to the park earlier then had lunch and she was knackered. I’m sure she won’t bother us.”
“Never a bother.” you tisked, “I love kids.”
“But you only have one?” George asked before quickly following it up with a, “Sorry if that’s an invasive statement.”
“No, no. You’re fine.” you shrugged, “Where we lived before was a tiny apartment in Manhattan that Andrew had bought when he was a bachelor after moving from London. Ritchie was literally sleeping in the den with the desk and filing cabinet and things. There was literally no room for another kid.”
“And the time was right to move into a proper house?”
“Yeah. We didn’t feel totally settled in the city and with a young kid I felt like he needed a yard to run around in.”
“I understand that. That’s why we moved out here after we were married. The appeal is just so much nicer than Manhattan when thinking of settling down.”
There was something about George that felt so trustworthy and kind and you found yourself easily relaxing in his company enough to confess, “We didn’t have the luxury of planning. Our relationship was a little…out of order.”
The whistle on the kettle blew and George turned to take it off the stove and shut off the heat while also continuing your conversation, “Out of order? What do you mean?”
“Well…we got married because I was pregnant.”
George’s lips formed a silent ‘o’ in realization and he glanced over at you for a brief moment as he filled the mugs, not quite knowing what to say.
“Married at 20 isn’t totally ideal.” you chuckled, scuffing the toe of your shoe against the tile floor. “But we were in love so it was okay. And Richard is the best kid we could have asked for.”
“All worked out then.” George said with a kind smile in your direction.
You nodded faintly, “Yeah.”
“Milk? Sugar?” he asked with a gesture to the filled and steeping mugs.
“Milk would be great, thanks.”
George prepped the tea and even grabbed a few cookies from the cookie jar to place on a plate for your early afternoon snack and then you followed him back down the hallway and towards the formal living room adjacent to the foyer, passing the photographs once again. The built-in bookcases along the far wall housed more pictures and trinkets from over the years and your eyes lingered on them as you sat on the blue upholstered couch and George arranged your drinks on coasters on the cherry coffee table. With you on one end of the couch, he sat on the other end with a respectable distance between you.
“I was just admiring your photographs.” you confessed when you finally tore your gaze away from the collection across the shelves and you leaned forward to grab your tea with a quiet thanks to him.
“Yeah.” he smiled fondly as he glanced over the frames he was all too familiar with, “I like having them around.”
“The wedding one in the foyer was really sweet.”
George sipped his tea with that gentle upturn of his lips and an acknowledging, “Mhm.”
“How long have you two been married?”
George leaned back on the couch and looked to the ceiling in thought, his mug held at a rest on top of his blue jean clad thigh, “We were married in ‘77 I think…the years seem to get a little foggy. And Jenn doesn’t like to make a big deal about anniversaries so it’s not like we diligently keep track.”
“Oh. Why doesn’t she like to make a big deal?”
He shrugged, “Dunno, really. I think she’s so busy all the time that having one less thing to worry about is easier. The first few years were celebrated and even planned the odd stay-cation but after the five year mark and having kids…it’s just easier to not really bother as much.”
“I guess so. I think Andy and I are the same way…although we never really had the money for stay-cations or elaborate gifts anyway. He’ll just buy me flowers.”
“Flowers are good.” George smiled over at you.
“Yeah.” you exhaled.
“I’m more of the romantic one in my marriage but Jenn isn’t into the whole bit of gifts and time and whatnot so I’ve had to learn to cut back or she gets so overwhelmed.”
You frowned and met his gaze, “That makes me sad.”
He shrugged with a melancholy smile, “Eh, it’s okay. We had our share of mushy love in high school anyway. Maybe we’re just too old for all that now.”
“High school sweethearts?” you pried.
“Mhm.” George’s eyes sparkled. “Met her in our first year of high school when my family had just moved here from London. We were the graduating class of ‘73.”
Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to do the mental math for a moment before finally asking, “So how old are you then?”
George cocked his head to the side with an amused expression, “How old do you think I am?”
“I don’t want to answer that.” you laughed, tucking your hair behind your ear as you looked down to your steaming mug of tea held in your lap.
He spared you with his answer, “I’m 29.”
“Okay, not far off from us. We’re both 26.” you added.
“Still young.” George bantered lightly, “Did you want more kids? Now that you have a bigger house and all.”
“Yeah. I’ve always wanted a whole bunch…Andrew not so much though. He took some time to warm up to Ritchie when I told him I was pregnant the first time so I’m not sure how he’d feel about the pitch of a second.”
“Doesn’t hurt to ask. Marriage is all about give and take, right?”
George’s statement inflicted a bit of ache in your chest as it forced you to reflect back on your six years with Andrew and the desires and plans of your own that you had pushed down to help him thrive in his own life and career. You sipped your tea quietly without a reply, taking a second to daydream about the filled house you had always wanted ever since you were a little girl. A house full of kids and a little job for yourself on the side and a husband who treated you like a queen. You were treated well by him - that was never a question - but everything always felt as if it was falling short to your expectations.
“Sorry.” George’s voice tore you from your thoughts, “I don’t mean to force my way into your marriage as some sort of psychologist.”
“No, no. That’s okay. It just has me thinking.” you looked over at him again with a melancholy smile, “We were just so young and I didn’t really have a chance to know myself or what I wanted before we got married. Andy’s such a good guy but sometimes there’s some sort of disconnect in what we both strive for.”
“That’s fair. But even time doesn’t guarantee that perfect connection. Like how Jenn and I differ with what we want in terms of romance and showing our love. I love the words, the gifts, the intimacy…whereas she just likes when I do her laundry or make her lunch.”
“Got those reverse gender roles, huh?”
George cracked a half smile, “That’s actually very true. I finish tidying this entire house by the time she gets home from work, the kids are already bathed and in bed, and she’s ‘too tired’ to spend any time with me. Honestly, I don’t even know how we ended up with two kids.”
You both shared faint laughter behind casual sips of your tea.
“That’s not much different on our side of the fence.” you agreed. “Must be that working world that just absolutely obliterates someone’s intimacy desires. Is it that tiring?”
“Commuting an hour and a half into the city there and back every day doesn’t help.”
You tisked, “Of course not.”
“It’s easy to feel lonely. I didn’t understand it when I was growing up…seeing my mom being a homemaker and all…but when you’re in it…”
It was the first time someone truly acknowledged how you felt - and a man at that. Even your husband didn’t quite get it, but why would he? But suddenly this stranger was speaking the words that you were too ashamed to even think about and you felt like a weight of a cloud was pulled from your shoulders.
“Yeah.” you breathed, sharing the air across the couch with your unwavering gazes, “That’s exactly it.”
“And then your kids grow up…”
“And then what do you have?” you concluded his sentence, “What is your purpose after that?”
George tisked lightly and scooted slightly closer so he could set his hand on your knee, “You have purpose, okay? You’re not just a mother and not just a homemaker and not just a wife. You’re a woman too.”
You bit lightly at your bottom lip, staring into his gorgeous blue eyes that suddenly seemed to push a warmth through your chest and up to your cheeks.
“You have purpose and you have value.” he told you like he was telling you the most honest truth.
“Thank you.” you mouthed back, worried that if you spoke out loud, your voice might break.
He gave your knee a gentle reassuring squeeze, “Of course.”
You both stayed there, frozen, for a moment, just staring at each other. You felt some sort of warmth all around you from more than just the half empty mug of tea still clutched in your hands, realizing how close you were now. Tearing your gaze away from his light eyes, you naturally glanced at his lips and watched as they perked up at the corner in a gentle smile, moulding the shape of his soft lips and his precisely shaped cupid's bow that you couldn’t help but stare at.
The moment you got the urge to lean in, you turned your head away from him and cleared your throat as you set your mug on the coffee table. His hand was removed from your leg.
“I should go…” you mumbled.
George stood when you did, “Okay.”
“Thank you…for the tea and the company.” you said to the ground as if scared to look at him in fear of feeling those strange warm flutters again.
“Of course. I’m always here…whenever you want to talk or anything.” he promised before leaning down to pick up the plate of untouched cookies, “Biscuit for the long journey home?”
You smiled at his playfulness and when you grabbed one from the plate, you finally looked him in the eye again, “Thank you.”
“Let me walk you out.”
He held his arm out for you to urge you to lead the way and you slid between him and the coffee table to make your way to the front door, trying not to focus on the scent of his cologne as you drifted by him so closely. You needed to get out of there.
You barely remembered saying goodbye or the ghostly touch to your arm he offered in passing before you were out in the fresh air of your neighbourhood and you were trying not to stumble down his front path. The cookie was still held in your hand and your startled eyes darted back over your shoulder to his shut front door before you broke out into a brisk walk across the lawn and onto your own property.
In the peace of your house, you shut your own front door once back inside and you leaned against it heavily, your chest rising and falling in your half panicked breaths. Nothing had happened but it felt like it had and the strange feeling of guilt bubbled up in your stomach. You had never before had thoughts of another man apart from Andrew but you pinned it to George’s manners and how he only said what you wanted to hear. There was nothing to feel guilty about because absolutely nothing happened. Just because you thought something didn’t mean you did anything wrong.
The cookie was still in your hand and you pushed yourself away from the door to take it straight into the kitchen and you tossed it in the garbage bin, closing the lid loudly.
Andrew got home around 6:45, just when you were putting dinner on the table. Richard hopped out of his chair to greet him with an excited hug and your husband crouched down to meet him with a wide grin and open arms. He asked his son how school was and half listened to his youthful explanation of his day as he greeted you with a kiss to the corner of your mouth and drifted past you to his seat at your dining room table.
You ate together as a family like you almost always did and then when Andrew retired to the family room to wind down and watch some TV, you took Richard upstairs to get ready for bed. The little boy was bathed and dressed and afterwards he rushed downstairs to say goodnight to his father before you were tucking him into his single bed in his blue wallpapered room. You always loved watching your son fall asleep; there was something so peaceful about it and gave you a moment to admire his soft features without him running away with youthful exuberance. With a kiss to his head, you left him to sleep and shit his door behind you before making your way back downstairs.
MTV was playing on the chunky TV across the family room and Andrew glanced up at you from the couch when you entered. He held his arm up and you gladly took the spot beside him and cuddled up close. He rested his head against yours with a soft sigh as he focused back on the music video he was watching with the host of MTV counting up that week's hits from the charts.
“Imagine if I was #1.” he spoke quietly, almost dreamily. “Making it big in some internationally known band rather than rotting in some office in Manhattan. We’d have the money to afford an even bigger house.”
You hummed plainly in acknowledgement and slid your arm around his middle as if in some desire to melt completely into him.
Your lack of response had him looking over at you, “You okay?”
“I’m fine.” you mumbled.
You weren’t looking at him but you could feel how he stayed staring at you for a few more seconds before he turned back to the TV too, not wanting to press you further. But then you shifted at his side so you could tuck your legs under yourself on the couch and face him properly.
“Andy.”
“What’s up, sugar?” he rested his head back against his couch so he could look at you again.
The random pop music video played on in the background.
“I wanted to talk to you about something.” you confessed, trailing the hem of his collared work shirt with your finger.
“Alright.” he leaned forward to mute the TV and the smiling dancers danced to nothing on the screen, giving you his full attention.
When he was settled back in his spot on the couch, his big brown eyes on you and his hand on your thigh right where George’s had been earlier that day, you just blurted it out, “I want to have another baby.”
Said big brown eyes blinked at you once, twice, then his eyebrows furrowed for a half second before he spoke, “Oh.”
“We have a bigger house now and that empty room upstairs has been just calling to me or something. And I’ve always wanted many kids and Ritchie is the best we could ask for…where’s the harm in having a second of him?”
Andrew sighed and gave your thigh a squeeze just like George had, “I dunno, sugar.”
“Why not?” you frowned and leaned in closer to him, almost pleadingly.
“Well, work is busy so I won’t be home much and we just are getting settled in this new place-”
“We’ll still have nine months to prepare!” you reminded him quickly.
Andrew laughed lightly towards the carpet, “Yes, I know, but now Ritchie’s away at school and he’s already big and-”
“Which means I won’t have my hands as full taking care of a baby and a kid at home.”
“I don’t think we need another. I am perfectly happy with our little family as is. Aren’t you?”
You nibbled at your bottom lip as you stared at him while he looked at you expectantly and everything in your heart wanted to tell him no but your quiet voice abandoned you with a soft, “Yeah, I guess.”
Andrew lifted his hand from your lap to tuck your hair behind your ear before pulling you close by his arm around your shoulders, “Maybe you’re just saying this because you’re not used to being alone since Ritchie started school.”
“Maybe.” you muttered.
“I am very happy with the life we have. I don’t need anything more.” he tried to be sweet about it but your heart ached and even as he kissed the corner of your mouth, you had to force the smile to come to your lips.
Andrew rested his head against yours as he unmuted the TV and the top hit pop song filled your family room and the big house that felt empty in your heart. Your eyes drifted away from the screen to peer through the adjacent window that looked out towards the neighbour’s property and although only looking at red brick and white siding, you silently and guiltily wished you had what they had.
Since Richard had no siblings, you knew that it would be important for him to socialize outside of school with kids his own age at various activities. He had expressed interest in baseball not long before so you jumped on the opportunity to sign him up for the local little league team just before the fall season was set to start. You, yourself, were excited for a bit of a distraction after the ultimate letdown that was your conversation with your husband a few evenings prior although Andrew went about his days like nothing was wrong.
On Tuesday evening, you were getting Richard into his baseball uniform for his first practice, making sure that the shirt and pants fit him properly on his young body that seemed to be growing faster than you could buy clothes for it. He stood proudly in his mirror in his room as you adjusted his navy blue baseball cap over his dark hair and swooped his messy bangs out of his face. Grinning up at you in approval, he didn’t even have to say a word for you to read exactly what was on his mind.
“You look so grown up, Ritchie!” you gushed, crouching down to his height for one last shirt adjustment, “You excited?”
“Yeah! I’m gonna get a home run!” he announced.
“I bet you are!” you held up your hand and he smacked his little palm against yours for a high five. “Come now, let’s show Daddy and then get your shoes on.”
Richard rushed right out of his bedroom and hurried down the stairs in his socked feet, “Daddy, I’m ready!”
Andrew was already waiting by the front door and seeing his son coming down the stairs brought a beaming grin to his face, “Looking so spiffy, little slugger.”
You passed over the baseball shoes to your husband, “Can you put his shoes on for him while I get the snacks?”
“Of course.” Andrew took the pair from you and crouched down in front of the little boy who obediently rested his hands on his father’s shoulders and stuck one foot out for a shoe.
You returned to the kitchen that still had the dinner dishes in the sink in need of washing but time was already cutting it close and you were already in a bit of a rush to get to the field in time. The cooler was packed and sitting beside the fridge and you checked that the watermelon slices and Hi-C juice boxes were tucked away with some bags of ice before locking the lid and carrying it back down the hallway to your family. Andrew took the cooler from you to carry it to the car himself and you ushered your excited five-year-old out of the door after him so you could close up the house.
As you walked down the front path to the driveway, you couldn’t help but glance over to your neighbours’ and notice their family car was missing from their house. You forced yourself to ignore the curiosity that was getting the better of you as you had been in a constant strive to pretend absolutely nothing had happened between you and George. In reality, nothing did happen, but the strange feeling of guilt was eating at your heart. Some distance would do just the trick, you were sure.
It was nice to have Andrew able to come to Richard’s first little league practice, especially after he was tired from a long day of commuting and work, but you thanked him silently with a quick kiss to his cheek as you climbed in the passenger seat of your station wagon. His warm smile back at you still managed to bring that little flutter to your heart after your six years together and you broke his gaze to glance to your son in the back seat. Richard gave you two thumbs up and a beaming grin that was all his father’s, making his big brown eyes scrunch closed at the corners, all ready to go to his first event.
The community park was only about a five minute drive from your house and once Andrew pulled into the gravel parking lot, it appeared that there were still some families pulling up. The baseball diamond looked busy though so you hurried to get your son all signed in and so he could meet his teammates and coach. Andrew took the cooler and your hand while Richard ran ahead in his own determination to socialize. You joined the queue of parents by the team dugout who were signing in their sons and as you waited, you both watched Richard help himself to the group of boys who were playing in the red sand of the baseball diamond, all in matching navy blue uniforms with their own chosen number on their backs.
After a few moments, Andrew gave your hand a squeeze to get your attention, “I’m going to put the cooler down and find us a spot on the bleachers. You okay to sign him in?”
“Of course.” you agreed.
He left you with a brief kiss before heading off to the metal bleachers that were already dotted with parents and families alike. You watched him go for a few seconds before turning back to the lineup you were in, only to find yourself face to face with George himself. You were so startled that you nearly choked over your breath but he just smiled cooly.
“Hello, neighbour.”
“Hey.” you stumbled out. “Hi. What are you doing here?”
George glanced down at his blue baseball jersey and then back to you with a casual wave of the clipboard in his hand, “I’m the coach.”
“Oh, right, of course you are.” you chuckled faintly.
“Your boy signing up?”
“Yeah, his name should be on the list. Richard Ridgeley.”
George, who had looked down at his clipboard after his initial question, only glanced back up at you with his eyebrows raised.
“What?” you asked worriedly.
He licked away his smile and looked back down to his list with a half shake of his head, “Nothing.”
If it was anyone else, you would have been mad, but it was George and you knew he meant no harm. You couldn’t help but smother a smile of your own in return, “Are you making fun of my son’s name?”
“Not at all. I love alliteration. Very poetic.”
“Okay, shut up.” you laughed. “I bet your last name is no better.”
“Russell.” he told you smoothly with a playful glance.
You scoffed teasingly, “Of course…George Russell…what a champion kinda name.”
“Who knows…maybe I’ll be MVP before you know it and you’ll be seeing my face everywhere…getting totally sick of me.”
“Mhm.” you tried to steady the racing of your heart at the realization that you were already trying not to see his face everywhere, desperate to change the subject, “So is my kid on the list or not?”
“Yeah, yeah, he’s here.” George crossed his name off, “I also see you’re down for snack duty.”
“Sure am. Brought my cooler and everything.” you gestured aimlessly towards the bleachers.
George looked back up at you but his eyes drifted past you with a tight smile. Before you could look over your shoulder to see what he was looking at, Andrew appeared beside you and set his hand on your back.
“All signed up?” he asked.
“Yeah. We’re all set.” you answered calmly.
“Hey, mate, good to see you.” George held his hand out to your husband and they shook hands politely.
“You too.” Andrew smiled, “It’s been a while.”
“Sure has.”
“Well we should let you get set up.” you said, taking a step away from George and closer to Andrew.
“No worries.” George adjusted his cap on his head with a smile, “See ya after.”
Then he was walking off into the baseball diamond to corral the little boys to begin their practice. You and Andrew headed back to the bleachers and to the spot he had saved for you with the cooler and you sat on the metal bench between the other interested parents. It was surprising that so many parents wanted to stay and watch even if it was just a practice but it reinstated your good feelings about your new neighbourhood and how involved everyone was with the community.
While George directed the boys through throwing drills and showing them how to swing the bats, you found yourself staring more at him than you son. There wasn’t really much to watch when the other kids were taking their turns anyway and there was something about George in those light wash blue jeans that just drew your eyes in shamelessly. They just fit so nicely over the curve of his ass and you habitually licked your lips with a focused cock of your head.
Andrew’s arm draping around your shoulders made you jump and you pressed a hand to your heart despite his grinning face and you huffed, “You scared me.”
“That into the practice, huh?” he chuckled.
“Yeah.” you mumbled and looked back to the field for a moment, pulling Richard out of the crowd of boys with ease before you glanced back at your husband, “I’m glad you could come.”
“Of course.” Andrew smiled over at you in the evening sunshine, “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well, I dunno. With work and the longer commute and all…you’ve seemed more tired…busy.”
Andrew sighed and pulled you closer by your shoulders and you rested your head against his as he spoke to you quietly, “Yeah, it has been a lot to get used to. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much and if you feel like I’m letting you down.”
“Oh, you’re not letting me down.” you assured him, lifting your head up again so you could give him your full attention, “I’m proud of you for sticking with it even when it gets hard. You work so hard for Ritchie and for me and I really do appreciate it.”
Andrew reached his free hand up to tap your nose lightly and you shared in his calm smile before he was guiding you towards him by the chin for a kiss or two.
“I love you.” he whispered against your cheek.
Your eyes drifted back out to the field, “I love you too.”
At the halfway mark, George called you over with the snacks and Andrew let you slip out of his arms to do your little job. You helped to hand out the juice boxes and watermelon slices to each little boy and most said thank you - and your son even gave you a kiss with his thanks. George stood beside you to watch as his little players ate their snack and relaxed on the grass for a few minutes and once your stock was empty, you closed up your cooler.
“Thanks again for bringing the snack.” George said as you stood up.
“Any time.” you smiled, “Is it a rotation thing or is it one parent for the season?”
“It depends. Why, are you willing to be the designated snack-bringer?”
“For you, sure.”
It was out of your mouth before you could think about how it would sound and George’s expression rose into a hint of amusement.
You cleared your throat, “And the boys, of course.”
“Of course.” George nodded.
You stared at each other for a few seconds.
Then, his hand was on your arm, “I should get back to practice. I will expect you here with snacks next week then.”
He was gone before you could process the warmth that his touch left and you just smiled and nodded after him as he herded the snacking boys back to the diamond, the sunshine yellow '63' printed boldly on the back of his jersey. You carried your empty cooler to the bleachers again and sat yourself stiffly beside your husband who was oblivious to anything going on and, instead, was waving to your son from across the field.
For the next week or two, you ran into George more than you’d have ideally wanted. Between school drop off and pick up, little league baseball practice, and the casual neighbourly run-ins, it was starting to feel nearly impossible to avoid him. And, at the same time, the more you saw him, the more you didn’t want to avoid him. There was something so charismatic about him that made him so easy to talk to and to confide in and you hated to confess that you took him up on his offer for tea once or twice during the week. While you sipped in his living room, there was never a silent moment as there was always something to talk about and even little Nancy was starting to warm up to you just a little.
Despite your fluctuating feelings towards your neighbour, your guilt was something that stayed stagnant. You loved Andrew with your whole heart and you never once doubted that, but the strange warmth that spread across your skin at a mere glance at George was unlike anything you had felt before. You swore it would be something you would take to the grave. No one - especially not George or Andrew - needed to know the internal battle you were facing.
Since your first conversation with George at his house two weeks earlier, you only started to see more and more of the truth behind your honest chat. Andrew was working himself exhausted between the commute into the city and the lengthy hours which left almost no time for you to relax as husband and wife the way you would have appreciated. You tried to talk to him here and there about it but you also didn’t want to make him feel badly - you knew he was trying his absolute best and for that you were grateful. But still, at the end of the day, you were still a woman with needs and it was growing increasingly more frustrating to sit around and wait for him to give you the satisfaction that you needed.
The one good thing about Richard being off at school was that you had more private time which, with children, often was incredibly few and far between. With your record player on, you were listening to Madonna’s album as you vacuumed the main floor of your house, letting your mind wander on its own. Maybe it was the emptiness of your house or maybe it was a certain time in your hormonal cycle but as the seconds ticked by, your desire to tend to the house diminished greatly. Finally, the vacuum was turned off mid chore and you rested it down on the carpet before flopping back onto the couch with a huff to the ceiling. Your music played on from the other room, the familiar scratch of the vinyl record bringing comfort and you closed your eyes for a moment to let yourself be taken by the celestial voice of Madonna.
As if with a mind of their own, your fingers inched their way over your thigh and up to the waistband of your straight leg blue jeans and you popped the button, taking an habitual glance towards the front door as if someone were going to walk right in unannounced. But you were in the complete privacy of your own home, away from the paper thin walls of Manhattan apartment buildings, and you could do as you so pleased. Your jeans were dropped to the carpeted floor.
Propping your feet up on the edge of the coffee table in front of you, you got yourself situated comfortably within the warm embrace of the sofa cushions and your eyes were drawn to your framed wedding photo that sat on the fireplace mantle directly in front of you. Licking your lips and then your fingertips, you didn’t tear your eyes away from it as you slipped your hand down the front of your underwear and refamiliarized yourself with your body.
It had been so long that the first graze of your fingers had your lips parting in a soft gasp, working yourself slowly without any sort of prior build up, gentle circles over your aching clit. You hadn’t realized how many weeks had gone by without any sort of touch like this until you got yourself in that position. Under slightly furrowed brows, you stared straight ahead at your wedding photo, eyes boring into those of your husband without so much as a blink; almost as if you were reconditioning yourself to direct your full entire attention at him and him alone.
No more nonsense thoughts of the neighbour.
Even though you spoke that line to yourself in warning, the concept just tasted so good to your mind with your hand down your panties and your legs spread in the middle of your sun-bathed family room. Flashes of him at the last little league game filled your head; the way his arms looked in that snug navy blue t-shirt standing out against his lightly tanned skin…his blue eyes sparkling every time he looked at you. You couldn’t help but let your eyes flutter closed and your head fell back against the couch with a soft whimper, shutting out the framed photo with the curse of your own mind.
Little did you know, said neighbour was on his way over to your house at that very moment with a sealed Tupperware container in hand and a whistle on his lips. The faint muffled sound of Madonna leaking through your walls brought a fond smile to George’s face as he crossed over onto your property and made strides over your perfectly trimmed grass. His attention was caught by the sight of you through the single paned front window and he went to send you a smile and a wave until he stopped in his tracks at the realization of what he had stumbled upon.
There you were, lounged back on your couch, socked feet propped up on the coffee table with your legs spread and your hand nestled between them. The look on your face was nearly erotic as you faced the ceiling with an angelic furrowed expression and made yourself writhe under your own touch, any sounds muted by the music that filled your empty home.
George stepped away from the front window so as to not be caught and he turned to head back home to give you your privacy but before he crossed over the property line again, something stopped him. Almost like he was held by an invisible force, he stood dumbly at the edge of your lawn, staring at his house, the Tupperware container of homemade banana bread held in his hands. Everything in him knew it was wrong but he couldn’t help but glance back to the side of your white paneled home to the side window that gave him a direct glance inside and to the couch on which you sat.
If anyone drove by, they would have thought this man looked absolutely ridiculous just standing there, but he was captivated by you, watching you touch yourself to whatever thoughts were taking up your mind. Little did he know, but they were thoughts of him.
His name fell from your lips when you came, almost startling yourself in the process. As your body shuttered through the small waves of your orgasm, your eyes snapped open to land on your wedding photo again as if your husband had seen the whole thing. A furious blush came to your cheeks and you panted heavily as you tried to catch your bearings and process the realization of what you had just done. Sitting up a little more on the couch, you found yourself unable to look at the framed photograph again, instead, staring wide eyed into the darkened fireplace beneath.
A flutter through the window beside the fireplace caught your eye but when you looked, there was nothing there. You hurried to tug your jeans back on and buttoned them up before making a beeline to the kitchen to wash your hands and splash some cool water on your face. What was wrong with you? Your husband was going to walk through the door in four hours and you were going to have to kiss him hello with the mouth that just moaned another man’s name. You were going to have to face said man at the bus stop in an hour and that was the last thing you wanted to do.
Before you knew it,
“Hey.”
“Hello.”
Silence.
“Did you have a good day?”
“Huh? Oh, me? Yeah…fine. It was fine. Nothing…important.” you looked to the sidewalk beneath your feet.
George nodded, “Nice.”
Silence.
“How was yours?” you asked.
“Fine. It was good.”
“Good.”
“Good.”
Silence.
You urged the bus to round the corner with the pleading glance of your eyes, desperate to escape the horribly awkward situation that was completely one sided. George cleared his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to another at your side. Neither of you knew what the other knew and somehow it made it that much worse. You swore that even a few of the other parents at the bus stop were catching onto your horrible tension and you tugged at the collar of your shirt habitually to try and get some air.
In reality, it was all in your head but, to be fair, George was all in your head too and that was the root of your issue. As you stood there, your mind taunted you with the thoughts that had clouded your mind that afternoon - curious imagination of how his lips would feel or how his hands could grab you or how his body would feel against yours, traced by your fingertips. You discreetly stepped away from him.
In perfect time, the bright yellow school bus rounded the corner and you took that opportunity to step even further away from George, feigning it as simply excitement to see your son. Like every afternoon, Richard ran off the bus and right into your arms and you hugged him tightly with your warm maternal greeting. You barely gave George a goodbye before you were encouraging your son to race you home - a perfect excuse to get as far away from George as possible…and as quickly as possible. Of course, despite the way you ran down your street in the afternoon breeze, you still let Richard get to the front door first and you let him inside with a ruffle to his hair and one last glance from where you came, almost as if you were hoping to see your neighbour trailing after you.
Later that evening, once Andrew was home and dinner was had and Ritchie was tucked into bed, you were desperate to repair the damage to your mind that you had caused by your own actions. Your husband was sitting in the same spot on the couch as you had been earlier that day, already in his pyjamas, a magazine in his hand as he read quietly by the light of the table lamp. He was oblivious but you felt as though just him sitting there would cause him to realize what you had done so the only way to prevent that was to bring your full and entire attention back to him - where it rightfully belonged.
You plucked the magazine from his hands and tossed it onto the coffee table, urging his eyes to raise to your face as you tossed a leg over his lap and sat yourself down on his thighs. His hands fell to your hips just as you swooped in to kiss him purposefully, lingering on his lips for a few seconds before offering him a bit of tongue. He humoured you for a few seconds before he was tilting his head back with a soft chuckle to break your kiss.
“What are you doing?” he asked playfully.
You slung your arms around his shoulders and leaned forward against his chest until your noses were almost touching, asking him almost pleadingly, “Have sex with me.”
Andrew’s hands gave your hips a squeeze, “You know I love you,”
“Mhm.”
“But I’m far too tired for that right now, sugar, I’m sorry.”
“Andy.” you dropped your head back in frustration, staring at the same part of the ceiling that you had earlier that day.
“I’ll be nothing but completely disappointing to you.” he argued lightly. “You deserve my best.”
You frowned and slid off his lap onto the couch beside him with a sigh.
“I’m sorry.” he repeated, leaving his hand on your waist to keep you close and he kissed up your neck, “It was just a really exhausting day today. Maybe this weekend, okay?”
“Since when do we have to plan it?” you tisked.
“Since we got old.” he teased.
A small smile perked at the corner of your lips and you swatted him gently with the back of your hand, “Speak for yourself.”
Andrew kissed over your cheek and to your lips and you shared a few brief kisses before he replied softly, “We are the same age, in case you forgot, and thus we are going to get old together.”
Never before did that statement bring a tinge to your heart but in that moment it did and you could only pull a tight smile and nod in reply and he gave you one more kiss before shifting off the couch and taking you by the hand to lead you to bed.
By Friday, you seemed to have fallen back into your usual routine of pretending that George didn’t exist. The few times you saw each other in passing or at the baseball games were few and far between and conversations didn’t stray farther than a polite hello or shallow discussions about your sons or the weather. Your initial guilt due to your solo situation on your couch from earlier in the week seemed to die down and you were very thankful for that. George was a great guy and you appreciated him as your neighbour and wanted to keep it that way.
That might also have been a reason why he was the first person you thought to call when your washing machine flooded all over your basement floor just after lunch. If nothing else, he was kind and reliable. He came over right away with his tool box in hand and you opened the front door for him and led the way into the basement where the flood was occurring. The unfinished concrete floor was covered with a thin layer of cold water that only seemed to be leaking more from somewhere behind the washing machine.
“I haven’t even used it since we moved in!” you said as you stepped cautiously through the water to your laundry basket that was sitting protected on top of the machine. “First time and of course it goes to shit.”
“It’s okay.” George set his tool box on top of the adjacent dryer and then leaned over the two machines to see down between them and the wall, flashlight in hand. “Good you called. Wouldn’t want you flooding away.”
“My new house at that.” you added.
“Exactly.” George wrapped his hands around the sides of the washer and warned you politely, “Step back a bit.”
When you did, he heaved the machine away from the wall with a tight grunt and your eyes widened at the bulge of his biceps under his t-shirt. It certainly wasn’t a light thing to move so you coloured yourself impressed and you stayed out of his way as he managed to give himself enough space to get between the washer and the wall with a wrench from his tool box. You clutched your hands together and held them anxiously in front of your mouth as you watched him crouched down working, focusing your attention on hoping there was no damage done to your house rather than how his jeans fit him so nicely over his thighs.
“Nothing major.” he called out with his head still hidden by the washing machine, “Just a loose pipe. Guess they weren’t installed correctly.”
“Damn.” you tisked.
“Yeah,” George chuckled, his voice tight as he worked the wrench around the pipe to fix it for you, “That’s what you can expect from these installers on new builds. They’re getting sloppy.”
“You seem to know what you’re doing.”
George straightened up carefully from behind the washing machine, “Same thing happened to us when we moved in, if you can believe. I actually liked to pay attention to what the plumber was telling me…and guess it helped to save you $30.”
Your eyes widened, “$30? My Lord.”
“Yeah,” George chuckled and set his wrench back in his tool box, “Should be all set now. If you have some towels we can use to mop up the floor that could be good. I can restart this load for you.”
“Sure. Thanks.” you headed back upstairs and traipsed your damp footsteps up to the second floor to retrieve all your towels you owned from the linen cupboard in the main bathroom.
Bringing them all back to the basement, George had restarted your load of laundry that you had attempted to put on - including detergent and fabric softener and even set it to the correct wash cycle for your blouses. He then showed you the most efficient way to mop up the water with the towels without allowing it to leak into the foundation of the house and you couldn’t help but be impressed by his knowledge base.
“I can’t thank you enough.” you said with a relieved sigh as you both stood on the bottom step of the basement stairs and admired the organized mess of towels soaking up the water.
“No problem at all.” George assured you modestly, “Was the most interesting thing to happen today.”
“Yeah, I bet.” you chuckled, “Nothing like a damsel in distress call to really shake up the lunch hour.”
“Hardly a damsel in distress.” George brushed his hand over your back casually, “You’re perfectly capable in many ways.”
You met his eye in the dim basement lighting before turning to look back up the flight of stairs as you cleared your throat, “Did you want tea or anything?”
“Sure. If you’re offering.”
As you led the way back upstairs and into your kitchen, you realized that was the first time he was in your house. Of course, it was when your basement was flooding and you had breakfast dishes still in the sink and Richard’s toy cars scattered all over the family room and part of you felt embarrassed as if you had to impress him for some reason.
“Sorry that the place is such a mess.” you rushed out as you hurried across the kitchen to try and make the mound of dishes in the sink look less disgusting.
“No need to apologise.” George tisked, “Realities of parenthood. I get it. I don’t judge.”
“Yeah.” you sent a calm smile over at him in silent thanks before focusing on filling up the kettle in the sink, ready to make you both tea just like he did for you that first day you truly talked.
George set his tool box on the round kitchen table and stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans as he walked slowly around the kitchen and took in your shiny new house that was already starting to look like a home. The counter by the hallway archway was covered in pens and stamps and opened mail on which your address was written on each and addressed to ‘Mr and Mrs Andrew J Ridgeley’. George looked away, walking across the linoleum floor towards you and he leaned against the counter beside the stove as you turned on the burner and set the kettle down on top.
“Where’s Nancy today?” you asked casually.
“Oh, sometimes she goes to work with Jenn on Fridays and spends the day at the daycare in the office building. She has a few little friends there and whatnot so she likes it.” George explained.
“That’s nice.” you replied, “So on Fridays you really feel like an empty-nester like me, huh?”
George laughed faintly, “Yeah, I suppose I do.”
“Good thing I saved you then today.”
“Very good thing.” George agreed smoothly.
There was a calm pause between you as the kettle boiled on the stovetop and you looked away from his light-eyed gaze with a casual lick to your lips. You tapped your fingers against the countertop.
“Y’know,” George said, “I was worried you were avoiding me recently or something.”
You looked back at him, “What?”
“I just felt like you’ve been going out of your way not to talk to me or something so getting your call today kinda reassured me that we’re still on good terms.”
You let out a half laugh and rested your hand against your forehead for a brief moment in near embarrassment, “Actually…I kinda was, honestly.”
George’s eyes widened, “Oh? Did I do something?”
“No, no.” you assured him quickly, “We have just been spending a lot of time together and I didn’t want Andy to get the wrong idea.”
“Did he say something?”
“Well…no…but-”
“Then what wrong idea is there to get?”
You let out a soft nervous laugh without looking away from the steaming kettle but you didn’t offer him any sort of response. George cocked his head to the side slightly in acknowledgment that he was listening for your reasoning. You had his undivided attention. Why did it make you nervous?
“You’re just…” you sighed despite the anxious smile that you couldn’t lick away, staring unwaveringly at the stove, “Really sweet and really personable and I don’t want to get too comfortable and too close to where Andy might feel uncomfortable or suspicious. Or Jennifer, for that matter. There are boundaries, you know? I don’t want to overstep.”
“And if there weren’t boundaries? What would be different?”
The kettle whistled and you stalled in answering his question by taking it from the stove and turning off the burner so you could pour the water into the mugs to steep. Finally, you set the empty kettle back down and forced yourself to look at him, “I don’t think it’s appropriate to be talking about this.”
“You started it.”
“I didn’t say anything.” you countered quickly, covering your bases.
“It’s not what you’re saying…it’s how you’re saying it.” George said smoothly. You were suddenly very attuned to how warm and rich his voice was and your eyes flicked across his face like they always did when he was around, wanting to look at every inch of him. He continued purposefully, “How you can’t stop staring at me, especially.”
You scoffed and turned away from him with a blush rising to your cheeks, “I’m not staring at you.”
“You were. You often do.” George teased. “I’m not a complete idiot, I know when someone is checking me out.”
“I don’t-” you laughed nervously down to your steaming mugs of tea, your hands falling gently onto the edge of the counter, “I don’t check you out.”
“Yes, you do.” George laughed just the same. “It’s okay. I don’t mind it. It’s flattering.”
You opened your mouth to reply with some defence but no words came to mind and you shut your mouth with a frustrated little huff and you pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes for a moment. With your cheeks so warm they could keep your tea hot, you almost wanted to leave if it wasn’t for the fact that it was your own kitchen you were both standing in.
When your hands dropped loudly to your sides, George leaned his hip against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest as he asked in retaliation, “Do you mind when I check you out?”
Offering a disbelieving laugh, you glanced over at him, “You don’t check me out.”
“Why do you say that?” he questioned.
“Why?” you were taken aback, “Because I dunno. Because why would you?”
“Because you’re beautiful.” George answered. “And I most definitely stare at you…although I must be better at hiding it than you are.”
You kept your eyes on his, eyebrows furrowing for a brief moment, and you let a faint smile prick at your lips as you gave him a faint shake of your head.
“Can I confess something?” he asked.
“Sure.”
“The other day I came over here to bring you some banana bread I had baked but…I saw that you were already occupied on the couch.” he gestured haphazardly behind him towards your family room. “And I might have stared at you a little then.”
Your eyes widened and you raised your hands to your cheeks in realization, “Oh my God.”
“I’m really sorry, I should have just left when I first noticed but…” George sighed, “You looked fucking gorgeous when you were touching yourself like that.”
“That’s so embarrassing.” you mumbled despite your smile and the eye contact you kept with him.
“No, it’s not.” George shrugged, “We’re human…we can do whatever we need to in the privacy of our own homes.”
“With peeping neighbours in our windows.” you teased.
“Hey, now.” he laughed, reaching out to gently nudge your arm, “Not like I was standing out there with binoculars in one hand and my dick in the other.”
Your smile faltered for a second as if he had completely read your thoughts from that day and how you shamefully fantasized about him as you made yourself cum on your family couch. George’s hand grazed down your arm and his finger linked in the sleeve of your blouse for a brief moment as if he were debating something in his own mind.
Then, his eyes focused on yours once more and he asked as casually as the weather, “What were you thinking about?”
It was a question that would ultimately change the course of your life depending on how you answered but at the moment, you didn’t think that deeply about it. He was right there and he already confessed that he liked it when he stumbled across you like that, the least he deserved was an honest answer. Not to mention the gorgeous blue of his eyes was so mesmerizing that maybe you were a bit dizzy by him as you breathed out a soft, “You.”
Pin drop silence.
Unbreakable eye contact.
And then he was grabbing you by the back of your neck and yanking you towards him for a kiss that burned every inch of your skin.
Your hands grasped the front of his t-shirt to hold him as close as possible, letting your lips mould sloppily together in some sort of semblance of a kiss that easily progressed into more. Standing at the counter in your kitchen, you grabbed onto each other like you were life preservers and he kissed you with so much passion that you had nearly forgotten what it had been like to be craved so carnally like that. He nearly took the breath from your lungs, bending over you until your back was arched and your body took the shape of his. Your hands tangled in the back of his hair as your lips smacked together wetly, tongues pushing together for a greedy taste of infidelity; although your spouses were the last things on your minds.
The steeping tea was forgotten about as he guided you backwards blindly across the kitchen and you gently hit the edge of the opposite counter, giving him the chance to grab the backs of your thighs and hoist you up onto it. Right away, your arms and legs were slinging around his body and yanking him closer all without breaking your kiss, sharing hungry moans into each other's mouths. Your fingers tightened in his soft hair but your aggression just pulled a handsome groan from his throat that tasted like heaven against your tongue.
With your ankles linked behind his back, you used the heels of your feet to pull him closer to the counter as you rested near the edge so the front of his blue jeans were pressed up snugly against yours, getting your fix of that fiery touch after so long, regardless of who it was. Your eyes were shut tightly with greed, taking what you wanted from his lips with your body arching against his. George’s hands on your hips pressed indentations of his fingerprints into your flesh and he held you against him as he grinded against you faintly.
The sweet moan that fell from your lips had him moving like that again, rutting the front of his jeans right up between your spread legs, creating that friction that satisfied the craving of pleasure that you ached for. You moved with him faintly, grinding against his body in return from your spot on the edge of the kitchen counter until you both were turning more and more desperate from it.
George broke away from your kiss first and his hands shoved up the bottom of your blouse and lifted it over your head so it could be tossed aimlessly to the floor. You panted heavily to the kitchen as he moved his kisses down your neck and over your breasts that were tucked in your unflattering bra but he didn’t mind one bit. He groaned against your chest as he sank to his knees in front of the counter, “You’re fucking sexy.”
“Holy shit.” you exhaled, lifting your bum off the countertop when he popped the button on your jeans so he could yank them off you.
“That’s it.” George licked his lips as he guided your feet back until your heels were tucked on the edge so you were spread open for him, only separated by your underwear. He leaned in close and dusted his nose right up between your legs before his tongue was following, teasing your pussy over your underwear with the faintest of touches that still managed to make you squirm. He stared up at you from his knees, sending you a teasing wink as his fingers linked in the hem of your panties and he started to pull them down too, “I’ve wanted to do this for too fucking long.”
Once they were dropped to the floor too and your feet were back in place where he wanted them, you could barely rush out a reply, “Me too.”
In reality, you hadn’t truly realized you wanted that until you were put in that position but the images that your mind pictured earlier that week certainly might have proved otherwise.
He touched you like you were a masterpiece, gliding two fingers down between your glistening folds with his lips parted in near awe, watching how your wetness clung to his fingertips greedily. You raked a hand through his hair to guide his face in too and he gladly obeyed, nustling his tongue alongside his fingers with a gorgeous exhale that sent shivers up your spine. The caresses of his tongue were devine and he teased around your clit and down across your pussy in gentle strokes that had your head lolling to the side.
Being in that position wasn’t new to you - you had a husband after all - but you weren’t aware of how limited your experience might have been until George had you there. His first few touches and licks were expected and you offered him soft hums in appreciation, your teeth sunken into your bottom lip faintly as you watched him between your thighs. But then his large hands were sliding around your thighs and his fingers pressed into your flesh, his wedding ring on his left hand shimmering in the early afternoon sunlight, and he was nuzzling his face deeper with quick laps of his tongue. Your mouth fell open at his insistence and your hand in his hair gripped tighter in surprise.
“Oh-” you stumbled out faintly.
George tugged you closer to the edge of the counter as he slurped at your cunt until he was sucking on your clit and your head tossed back with a sharp gasp and your back straightened up.
“Fuck!” you squeaked.
He hummed against you, blue eyes staring straight up your body to gauge your every reaction as he tongued at your clit in quick strokes. The feeling was intense and you didn’t know what to do with yourself as you gaped dumbly into your kitchen and almost choked over your breath, eyes struggling to stay open, and your hand that wasn’t tangled in his hair ended up slamming flatly against the side of your refrigerator. The upper cabinets caught your head as you let out a loud moan to the ceiling, toes curling over the edge of the countertop, and George only grabbed tighter to your thighs to hold you on his mouth.
Your hand tightened in his hair although you couldn’t decide if you were pulling him closer or wanting to push him away with how strong the pleasure was that he built within you. You mouthed a silent chant of “fuck, fuck, fuck-” to your kitchen ceiling, gaping dumbly to the light fixture. George took his right hand back just long enough to slip two fingers in his mouth before he was guiding them slowly inside your leaking pussy.
“Oh God-” you whined tightly.
“Good girl.” he praised warmly against your cunt as his fingers started to thrust into you shallowly but strongly. “This what you were thinking about?”
“Mhm-” you could only nod cluelessly, barely able to make out what he was saying thanks to the ringing of your ears that was brought on by the pleasure he introduced to your body.
His tongue flicked faster at your clit and his fingers nudged up against that warm spongy spot just inside you at a perfect consistent pace. The moans that tumbled from your lips were nearly involuntary, coaxed out of you by his generous touch, until you were sure the neighbours could hear - if it weren’t for the fact that your neighbour was the one between your legs at that very moment. All your stresses and anxieties from the prior few short weeks seemed to fall away and the rush of pleasure that tore through your body completely made up for it.
You felt dizzy and you rested your head back heavily against the upper cabinets behind you with your eyes screwed shut, barely able to choke out a, “Yes-”
George gripped you tighter and kept his pace going, keeping his eyes on your face even if you weren’t looking at him. He analyzed your every flutter of expression to see just how you wanted it, smothering a half smirk at the displeased huff that you let out when he gave his tongue a break to suck on your clit instead. The change up took a second to get used to but you had never been so catered to before so you weren’t one to complain, tightening your fingers in his soft hair while he worked wonders on you.
Then that build up was forming again, flushing warmth across your skin, and you gaped down to him, “Yeah, yeah, yeah-”
George didn’t move a muscle from exactly where you needed him even as your legs started to quiver from where you were held open. You choked over your next breath as the first wave of pleasure tore down your spine and George gripped onto your thighs to hold you steady on the edge of the kitchen counter as you came on his mouth. His name fell from your lips like it was second nature and it truly felt so much better when he was there to hear it himself.
He pulled away once you started to get sensitive and he pulled his fingers out of you as he stood up and he rubbed along your messy cunt in lazy strokes. Your hand in his hair slid around the back of his neck and pulled him in for another open mouthed kiss, instantly sharing the taste of you that lingered on his tongue and you sucked on it greedily. George blindly unbuttoned his jeans while he kissed you, barely able to drop them and his underwear to the floor before you were tucking your legs around his waist again and tugging him closer.
“No one’s ever gone down on me like that before.” you confessed breathily between feverish kisses.
“No?” George chuckled cockily into your mouth, kicking his jeans off his ankles and across your kitchen floor, “Well good thing you have me.”
You offered a sweet “mhm” in reply that was quickly swallowed up by his lips once more.
He grabbed your thighs again and tugged you closer to the edge of the counter, “This okay?”
“Yeah.” you slung both your arms around his shoulders, leaving one hand in his hair and the other grasping onto the back of his shirt.
“You want this?” he asked breathily.
“You have no idea.”
The two of you shared faint laughter that was swallowed up by a few more sloppy lustful kisses before George was breaking away from you long enough to look down between you so he could angle the head of his cock against your slick cunt. You shuttered slightly in anticipation, clinging onto the back of his shirt as you breathed him in greedily with your nose pressed against his cheek.
George pushed inside you slowly and once that aching stretch came to spread across your hips, your eyes met closely as your mouth fell open with a soft gasp. His eyes darted across your face before his lips were capturing yours in a sensual kiss and he slid deeper inside you with his hands grabbing at your doughy hips, sinking himself into your body. The wavering breath he let out into your mouth was laced so perfectly with the faintest moan and you felt it right through your body, making your muscles flutter around him.
“Holy shit.” George slid a hand around the back of neck, his fingers nestled in the roots of your hair, and he pulled your lips harder onto his with an underlying sense of urgency that burned hot over your skin. And, as he did, he started to thrust into you hungrily, sharing in your whimpering moan that blessed your kiss.
“Fuck.” you choked out, your grip tightening on the fabric of his shirt as if to pull him impossibly closer.
Your kisses were messy from the quick aggression with which he fucked you on your kitchen counter but you kept at it like you never wanted to stop, unable to get enough of each other and the addictive drug of sin that joined you together. When even what he gave you didn’t feel sufficient enough, you pressed your heels into the flesh of his ass to try and get him to give you more, whining desperately against his tongue-led kisses. He stopped completely, nestled as deep inside you as he could fit, and your head dropped back against the upper cabinets behind you with a warm moan at the glorious fullness he offered you. George grabbed your ass and pulled your body right up against his so he could lift you up off the counter and into his arms.
You gasped in surprise but clung onto him tightly, trusting him entirely to do whatever he pleased, and your hands splayed across his back over the thin material of his shirt to feel the way his toned back flexed as he held your body weight. He carried you through the adjacent doorway into the dining room and through the spacious archway into the front living room, the afternoon sun streaking in through the large picture window at the front of the house. The carpet was soft beneath his feet and hid his footsteps as he blindly navigated his way to the couch, still taken up by your lips that kissed him like he was more important than air. George sat himself down heavily on the couch with you perched perfectly on his lap, his dick still tucked warmly inside you.
“Mm, my God.” you withered, driven by humanistic lust, and you were right away starting to bounce on his lap.
“Holy fuck, you’re sexy.” George groaned, slumping back comfortably on your couch that had been a wedding gift to you and your husband. He stared up at you with dilated blue eyes and he licked his lips at the sight, his large hands on your hips following your eager motions. But despite the obvious intent you held, he still reminded you politely, “You tell me if it’s too much.”
“It’s not.” you insisted strongly, grounding your hands flat against his chest so he was held down on the couch and you had the leverage to ride him harder. You had wanted that for what felt like weeks now and even though you had initially wanted it from your husband, you couldn’t be completely blamed for finding it elsewhere.
“Oh my God, look at you.” he breathed in near awe, “You want it so bad.”
You couldn’t bite back the sly smile that pricked at the corner of your mouth even if you scrunched your eyes shut and tilted your head back in some effort to keep him from seeing the effect he had on you. Your skin clapped lewly against his thighs with every bounce, tainting your marital home each and every time. The feeling of his hand around your throat startled you slightly.
“This okay?” he asked.
“Fuck, yeah.” you stumbled out.
That wasn’t new either and you had your fair share of more kinky interactions with your husband before he was your husband and before parental responsibilities and careers started to diminish the passion. It had been far too long.
“Harder.” you ordered.
George’s hand squeezed your throat a little tighter, “Better?”
“Mhm.” you withered, still messily bouncing on his lap.
“What do you say?”
His demand took you by surprise but it was invigorating and you looked down at him and his handsome lust filled expression, offering him an angelic, “Thank you.”
“Thank you, sir.” he corrected you smoothly.
You nearly choked over your breath and the obvious reaction to that simple demand had Georges smirking proudly under you as you tried to keep riding him on your couch.
His hand tightened around your neck a little more, ordering you strongly, although his voice could never get rid of the undertones of gentleness, “Say it.”
“Thank you, sir.” you exhaled.
“Good girl. You’re doing such a good fucking job.”
“You feel so fucking good inside me.” you whimpered. “I don’t wanna stop.”
“Don’t. Keep going until you make yourself cum.”
A soft chuckle left your lips as you confessed, “I can’t cum like this.”
“No?” George tugged at your neck to urge you down on top of him so you were chest to chest and he could kiss you.
You took that opportunity to rut yourself against him greedily, rocking your hips back and forth on his lap with your clit rubbing faintly against his pelvis just enough to get a little huff out of you against his lips. George let go of your throat to take two handfuls of your ass instead and he guided you into stronger motions against his body, keeping you on his cock even as you used his body to stimulate your aching clit. Your fingers fisted the front of his shirt tightly, moaning into his mouth while his tongue pushed insistently against yours until you were falling breathless.
When he slid his hands up your back, you tried to keep yourself going the way he had started for you but it wasn’t the same. Before you could beg for him to help you again, he was swallowing you up in his arms and smoothly sliding one of his legs under him so he could flip you over and drop you both lengthwise across the living room couch with him rightfully on top of you.
“Fuck.” you squeaked, throwing your arms around his shoulders just as he started thrusting into you roughly, forcing your head back against the arm of the couch with a choked, “Sh-Shit!”
“Better?” George taunted against your cheek.
“Yes, sir.” you whimpered.
His chuckle was low and warm and your toes curled at the sound, legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close. But he would never dream of stopping, not when he had you where he had dreamt of having you for as long as you had imagined the same about him.
What had started as a somewhat cautious rendezvous had quickly moulded into a carnally lustful hookup, entirely trusting of each other, and he wasn’t holding back as he fucked you on your couch harder than you had been in a while. You couldn’t even manage to form words as you stared up at him above you with your mouth agape and your eyebrows furrowed with intense pleasure, stupid little moans tumbling freely from your throat as language abandoned you. His icy stare was steamy hot and you refused to look away for even a second, raking your nails across the back of his t-shirt until the fabric was definitely being creased and wrinkled.
“Want me to make you cum, sweetheart?”
His voice was ethereal and you could have finished from that sentence alone, the pet name causing your swollen cunt to tighten around him for a moment.
“Use your words.” George teased.
“Please,” you forced out, “sir.”
“Can you cum like this?” he asked softly.
You nodded quickly, already feeling the seeds of an impending orgasm blossoming inside you, “Yeah.”
“Yeah?” George chuckled, nudging his knees across the floral couch cushion to be a bit closer to you, keeping his thrusts so perfectly deep, and when he sat back from you just enough to get his hand around your throat again, he was at the perfect angle to hit your g-spot dead on. When you took in a sharp breath at the quick rising pleasure from his minor adjustment, he smirked down at you, “You needed it that bad, huh? Already gonna cum for me?”
“Yes, sir.” you repeated dumbly up to him, swimming in a euphoric haze, “Please don’t stop.”
“No way, baby.” he promised, keeping your unwavering eye contact, “Wanna feel you cum all over my fucking cock.”
“Please.” you breathed, face scrunching up from the intense sensations. “Please-“
George was on the same wavelength as he was blessed with the glorious feeling of your body, already feeling himself falling into his own rising pleasure. His hand that wasn’t taken to your throat was gripping the arm of the couch beside your head and with every thrust, his hair was falling farther over his forehead on beautiful messy waves. You wanted to kiss him again but you wanted him to make you cum more, so you didn’t dare move him from his positioning, taking the view gladly instead as your attention was all on him and your fingers stayed locked around the fabric of his shirt.
“Fuck, that’s a good girl, I can feel you tightening up already.” George spoke down to you, his voice so rich and heavenly you swore it made you dizzy.
“I’m gonna cum.” you whimpered loudly, head lifting from the arm of the couch so you could peer down your body and watch how he fucked you, the sight of his dick disappearing inside you before pulling back out almost all the way covered in your glistening wetness in rapid succession only making your impending orgasm feel stronger and stronger. You were almost sure you were going to rip his shirt right off him as you squeaked out, “Fuck, fuck fuck, right there, right there-“
“Uh huh?” George’s jaw clenched as he tried to hold himself back for the sake of you as the priority. You had to finish first.
The moment that the first wave of pleasure hit you, your entire body shuttered and your head tossed back against the arm of the couch with a silent gape to the ceiling, eyes screwed shut. Then it was all let out with the most beautiful trembling moan George had ever heard and you filled your silent house with the sounds of your euphoria and the praise of his name, painting the walls in sin. You hadn’t cum that hard in a while to the point where you almost blacked out from the strength of it and your body wrapped itself around George to yank him down on top of you for something to hold onto.
That just made it even more impossible for him to stop as he kept fucking you right through it, groaning loudly against your cheek as he fought against your vice-like grip around his aching cock. He was getting sloppy with it, losing himself in the warm wet heaven of your pussy and the lewd sound it filled the living room with. Your ankles linked behind his back and pulled him in deeper, gasping and whimpering in sensitivity that you pushed aside to bask in the glorious and reliving pleasure he brought you.
“I…” George choked out, dipping his face into your neck as you held each other tightly, “I’m gonna fucking cum.”
“Gimme it.” you pleaded. “Please, sir.”
Forward thinking was not your priority in that moment as all you craved was for him to claim you completely, filthily, beautifully. For all you cared, this could have just been one perfectly intense dream and you wanted to make the absolute most of it.
With a few more thrusts, George was shoving hard into you once more and as his dick throbbed inside you, he came strongly, spurting thickly as deep as he could reach. Your mouth fell open at the feeling and one hand flew to his hair to tangle in the soft strands and hold his face in your neck as he moaned heavenly against your flushed skin. He ground into you greedily, giving you everything he had and it made your mouth water, your head tilting back to stare up at the living room ceiling with a mouthed ‘oh my God’.
“Fuck.” George huffed, gently allowing his body weight to rest on top of you completely.
You welcomed him gladly and enveloped him in your embrace and even kissed his head and his faint breathy chuckle at your action had you smiling. The pleasure hormones swirled around your mind and body and before they could fade away, George was sliding his hand over your cheek and guiding your lips to his for a slow, sensual, breathless kiss.
The two of you made out like that on the couch for a few minutes, what was once such a rush now dimmed down to lazy yet purely passionate kisses in the silence of your marital home. He was still tucked inside you and feeling his body so close with yours was addicting. Your fingers scratched through the back of his hair and he broke your kiss to rest his head against your collarbones.
“I needed that so fucking bad, oh my God.” George sighed.
“Me too.” you confessed lightly.
“It’s been way too long.”
“Tell me about it.”
There was a moment of silence as the reality of your situation settled on your minds.
“We really did that.” you exhaled.
“Yeah.” George sighed.
“Do you regret it?”
George lifted his head from your shoulder to look at you properly, “Do you?”
“I asked you first.”
A faint smile pricked at the corner of his mouth and he answered with a soft, “No.”
You trailed your hand out of his hair and down the side of his neck to guide him in for a chasté kiss, “Me neither.”
George gave you one more kiss before he was carefully sitting back from you, “Our tea is probably cold.”
You giggled softly, “Probably.”
“Want me to get you your clothes?”
“Please.”
He carefully pulled out and you let your hand take his place, staying on your back to keep from leaking out onto the couch, and he disappeared back into the kitchen. For the few seconds he was gone, you stared wide-eyed out the front window to the tree-lined street, the heavy side of reality settling onto your consciousness. If you had felt guilty about your thoughts the last weeks, then this was unimaginable. You committed arguably the ultimate sin in marriage - how would you ever come back from this?
“Here you go.”
George held out your underwear to you first and you glanced up at him - now fully dressed himself - and you took them from him with a soft thanks. He helped you up from the couch and you hurried to shimmy your clothes on while he watched you.
“This should be a one time thing, right?” you said after a moment.
“Yeah, probably.” George sighed.
“And…just between us?”
“Of course.” he agreed quickly. “We don’t want to…mess everything up.”
“Yeah.” you smiled faintly, thankful that he understood.
You could see him hesitate for a moment before he was taking your hand and leaning in to kiss you again. Despite the events that had just happened, the move made you a little shy and you pulled away a second later with a bashful smile to the ground. His thumb brushed over your skin lazily and as you stood together in your living room face to face in the afternoon sun, you felt drawn into him to steal another gentle kiss from his plush lips. Without sharing a word or any additional touch, you kissed softly, innocently, for a few long seconds before breaking away from each other again. You licked your lips that tasted like him and he noticed with a fond smile.
“The school bus should be here soon.” he said.
“Mhm.” you hummed, only half paying attention as your gaze was transfixed by his swollen lips.
“We can walk together if you want.”
“Mhm.”
There was another momentary silence between you and George’s faint bite to his bottom lip had your eyebrows naturally peaking for a split second. He could read your face like it was the front page of the morning paper.
“This isn’t going to be a one time thing, is it?”
You shook your head and took the half step closer to him as you leaned in for another tender kiss.
He was everywhere in your house now. Everywhere you looked it was tainted with George and you were worried that it showed all over your face. The kitchen...the living room…everywhere you looked. That very same night you stood in the kitchen preparing dinner while Richard watched TV in the family room and you tried not to think about the memories that the counter behind you held or pay attention to the constant leak that dampened your panties under your jeans. Andrew would be home in no time and you had only that long to compose yourself enough to face him like nothing was wrong.
The phone on the kitchen wall rang loudly, startling you dramatically and your head whipped around to it. You set the knife down on the cutting board and wiped your hands on your apron as you made your way over to it. Without thinking twice, you answered it with a casual, “Hello?”
“Hey, my love. It’s me.”
Your grip tightened on the receiver at your husband’s voice and you cleared your throat before answering, “Hi, Andy. What’s going on?”
“I just heard news that the boss wants me to come out for dinner with a potential client tonight so I won’t be home until a bit later. Nothing crazy but we’re hoping to get them onboard with this pitch and apparently bottomless wine is the way to do it.” his soft chuckle acted as a way to cover up his disappointment - you knew that well after your few years together.
“Oh. Okay.” you looked to the ground, silently grateful you wouldn’t have to face him until later.
“I’m really sorry, sugar.” Andrew said softly through the phone, “I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
“No, no. That’s okay. Do what you gotta do.” you pulled the most chipper voice you could.
“I’ll make you proud.”
You slouched your shoulder against the wall, “You always do, Andy.”
“Tell Ritchie I say hello and I love him. I won’t be back before his bedtime.”
“Of course. Be safe, okay?”
“I will. I love you.”
You nibbled your bottom lip for a half second before answering through the guilt that burned within you, “I love you too, honey.”
It was almost 11pm when you heard the front door open. Richard had long been put to bed - although not without asking for Andrew a half dozen times and trying to stall bedtime so he could see him before he slept - and even you had retired to bed yourself. With a book in hand, you were in your nightgown on your side of the bed in the warm light of your bedside lamp, trying to look as nonchalant as possible for when your husband would return home. He didn’t need to know a single thing and especially not how often you had been thinking of how George’s night was going since you had parted that afternoon.
Each quiet footstep on the stairs had your heart racing but you had all evening to calm yourself so you had belief that you were definitely able to play it cool. So, when the bedroom door opened and Andrew stepped inside in his black work slacks and pale blue button up, you offered him a loving smile. He closed the door behind him again so as to not wake your son and it was then that you noticed the small bouquet of flowers in his hand. Your smile faltered for a moment, feeling an uncomfortable weight settling in your chest.
Andrew just kept his warm grin and he walked over to your bedside to lean down to greet you with a kiss and the flowers, “Happy anniversary, sugar.”
You didn’t know what to say for a moment, using all your willpower to keep the smile on your face despite the fact that you completely forgot it had been your wedding anniversary of all days. But you closed your book and set it on your bedside table, “Aw, thank you, my love.”
“I’m really sorry I missed most of the day.” Andrew said, leaning down to kiss your cheek.
“That’s okay.” you brushed it off easily since you did much worse that day, “You’re here now.”
“Finally.” Andrew took the flowers across the room and set them on the dresser still in their cellophane so he could get ready for bed. “And it’s Friday, thank God.”
You watched him loosen his tie and then slide it off from around his neck and he dropped it on the dresser before starting to unbutton his shirt.
You tried to keep casual conversation, “How was the dinner?”
“It went really well actually.” Andrew said, “Got them on board and they will be signed with us on Monday.”
“That’s great! Although I didn’t have any doubts; you’re their best guy anyway.”
“You flatter me,” Andrew glanced over at you with a sweet smile as he walked across the room and draped his shirt over the back of the armchair. He then unbuckled his belt before it, too, was joining the forming pile on the chair and he dropped his slacks, “But now I don’t want to think about work because it’s now the weekend and it’s our anniversary and all my attention is yours. I told you I’d make today up to you.”
“That’s okay.” you assured him softly. “I’m not upset.”
“I am.” he protested gently and your eyes followed him back across the room and around to his side of the bed. He pushed back the sheets and climbed in beside you in only his underwear, telling you honestly, “I’ve felt so badly saying no to you so much the last little while.”
“It’s really okay, honey.” you promised, lolling your head to the side to look at him.
“Nope, not accepting that.” he tapped your nose, “I can tell I was doing nothing but disappointing you and I don’t like doing that. Not that we need an excuse but I think our anniversary is the best time to get back at it, you reckon?”
You didn’t realize how hard you were biting your bottom lip until the pad of his thumb gently swiped over it to get you to let go and then he slid his hand around the side of your face and guided you in for a soft kiss. You tried to push the guilty thoughts to the back of your mind and focus on your kind-hearted husband at your side who, even after an insanely long work day, still wanted to give you what you wanted. There was no doubt in your mind that you were still in love with him, but you kept your new secret locked away in order to prevent hurting the man you loved.
Andrew was obviously clueless to your internal affairs and his kisses were just as passionate as ever, still managing to erupt butterflies in your stomach with every lingering lock of your lips. Your fingers wrapped around his wrist of the hand that cradled your face and the fact that he didn’t have an ounce of suspicion from the taste of your lips that had kissed another man made you sure that you could have your cake and eat it too. It was almost thrilling.
Your husband broke your kiss and reached under the sheets to tug at the hem of your nightgown, “Wanna take this off for me?”
You gladly pulled it over your head and tossed it to the carpeted floor beside the bed and he moved in again to kiss your neck while his hand trailed down your naked body and traced the shape of your breasts and the peak of one of your nipples. He definitely knew where to touch you and that was never a question, proven by the way your eyes fluttered shut when his lips grazed just the right spot under your ear and his tongue against your skin pulled shivers down your spine.
You took the initiative to shuffle yourself on the mattress so you could lay yourself down properly against your pillow and Andrew was following after you gladly, laying half on top of you with his forearm holding him up at your side. Your hands guided his lips back to yours and you shared deepening kisses in the warmth of your shared bedroom. With your fingers tangled in the back of his short brown hair, you shared the responsibility of guiding your kisses until his tongue was nudging against yours. Opening up for him was easy but there was that tiny worry in the back of your mind wondering if somehow he could tell who else you had been kissing in his absence.
In reality, Andrew was perfectly clueless, and he trailed his hand down your bare body and under the sheets and right over the front of your panties. You hummed pleasantly into his kiss and spread your legs a little more for him, urging his hand to rub strongly across your clothed pussy. After a few seconds, he was pulling away from your lips with a faint smile at the corner of his mouth and you met his gaze with your teeth sinking into your bottom lip.
“Oh my God,” Andrew chuckled breathily, his hand still helping itself between your legs, “You’re so wet.”
You could only offer him a soft giggle that he kissed away greedily.
“I’ve kept you waiting that long, hm?” he teased against your mouth.
You could only manage a faint nod into his kisses.
He didn’t need to know that most of that wetness he was feeling was thanks to your neighbour.
Andrew pulled away from your lips for a moment so he could focus on shoving down your underwear under the blankets and you blindly helped to kick them off to get lost under the sheets. Once his fingers found your cunt again, you were pulling his lips back on yours by the back of his neck, silently praying he couldn’t feel the remnants of George’s cum still leaking out of you. But he was blissfully unaware as he touched you like that, fingers rubbing at your clit and then sliding between your glistening folds and back up, his lips pulling hungry kisses from your own.
When he finally pulled away from your lips, you followed his lead to hold up the sheets to let him shuffle himself underneath them, sharing soft laughter at the ungraceful nature of it as he got himself between your legs. You let the bed sheets fall overtop of him and you adjusted your pillow under your head with a nervous lick to your lips as you stared up at the ceiling. You were sure there was no way he could know - it had been all afternoon and evening after all - but a part of you couldn’t help but feel nervous.
The first touch of his tongue against your pussy had your eyelids fluttering and your breath shuttering in your chest. He nudged your legs open wider and his hands wrapped around your thighs, holding you open for his mouth and the gentle caresses of his tongue. Your eyes bore into the ceiling, focusing on the touches of your husband beneath your bedsheets, shamefully thinking back to that afternoon when George had you up on your kitchen counter and ate your pussy like it was his last meal. Andrew’s lazy and gentle strokes weren’t bad, just…different. Familiar. Expected.
He moved as if he were cleaning you up rather than aiming to make you messier and although it felt good, it still fell short. You shut your eyes and tried to focus on it a little more, offering a soft hum to the dimly lit bedroom as your fingers grasped the pillow you were lying on. You exhaled to the ceiling, trying to relax yourself into the mattress without thinking too hard about the fact that your husband was pretty much eating another man’s cum out of you at that very moment.
After only a few more seconds, Andrew pressed a sloppy wet kiss to your clit and then started to move back. Eyes snapping open, you set your hand on top of his head over the sheets, holding him in place as you requested quietly, “Can you put your fingers in me too?”
“Sure.” he chuckled faintly, words muffled by the sheets and duvet.
You felt him glide his fingers across your slick pussy and then he was sinking two inside you slowly, right down to the knuckle. His tongue followed again and he lapped at your clit while his fingers pushed strongly inside you all the way and back out in slow thrusts.
“Yeah,” you breathed, keeping your hand on the back of his head, “Faster.”
He followed your demand with fingers and tongue, ravishing you a little faster until his jaw was starting to ache and his hand was cramping up from those quick thrusts. Andrew hummed flatly against you and slowed himself down after a few seconds and before he could stop completely, you were squirming slightly underneath him.
“Can you only go, like, halfway with your fingers?” you requested quietly.
There was a pause and then movement as he shuffled his way out of the sheets to let them fall to the end of the bed, exposing your naked body to the air conditioned bedroom. He caressed your hip gently with a quiet, “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” you replied almost too fast, “Why?”
“It’s just…you’ve never had to tell me what to do before. I always usually make you cum.”
“I know, I know.” you assured him quickly, wracking your brain for an excuse, “Was just wanting to try new things.”
Andrew smiled faintly at you and nodded, “Okay.”
You returned his soft smile and he leaned down to kiss your lips, once, twice, and a third time before he was sitting back on his knees and shuffling out of his underwear. You tried to hide your disappointment that he wasn’t going to go down on you some more behind a tightlipped smile as he met your gaze and pulled the sheets up around you both again. Habitually, your legs went around his thighs as he situated himself on top of you and his lips locked with yours again in slow sensual kisses, tangling together as husband and wife in your shared bed like how it was supposed to be.
“Ready?” he asked softly.
“Mhm.” you slid your hands up his back and scratched your fingers across his shoulder blades lightly as he got himself situated.
The head of his cock nudged against your dripping pussy and your muscles fluttered at the sensation, naturally waiting for him to finally push inside you. And, when he did, his eyes stayed focused on yours without breaking away for even a second, watching your expression as he filled you completely. Your hands rested on his back as you stared right back at his face, taking in his dark and handsome features that you loved so dearly, and yet part of you was already missing George’s blue eyed gaze.
The flicker of a guilty wince across your expression was covered with ease by the first thrust from your husband as he started to make love to you properly. He kissed your lips sweetly, sharing single little fleeting kisses and soft breaths as you tangled under the sheets together. His thrusts were slow and deep and so incredibly loving, something that had been so comforting over the recent few years together. Something you didn’t realize mattered much. Not until George came over that afternoon and shook your very knowledge of reality and pleasure to its core.
Andrew broke away from your kiss to tuck his face into your neck and your arms wrapped entirely around his back to hold him on top of you, whimpering softly against his shoulder as he took you over like that. Your eyes scrunched shut and you desperately tried to stay in the moment, clinging onto your husband’s beautiful caramel skin and the scent of his office that lingered on him; copy ink and paper. His warm breaths fell against your neck in gentle pants in time with his precise thrusts, your bed squeaking faintly beneath you.
But your mind was straying again, drifting to the house next door and the man who had his way with you that afternoon; the one who somehow made you see stars for the first time in years. That used to be you and Andrew or so you recalled as the memories faded with time, but now it was all so fresh with George and you were drunk on the newfound adrenaline of it all. You tried to hush your mind from begging you to do it again and again and again with the man who had his own wife and his own family and who wasn’t legally bound to you in any way.
Just because you couldn’t have him didn’t mean you couldn’t think of him. With your eyes closed tightly and your husband’s face still tucked warmly in your neck as he made love to you gently into your bed, you shamelessly imagined him to be George instead. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip and your mind swirled with memories from that afternoon and the dirty words that your neighbour spoke to you. You imagined him saying such things to you now, holding you down on your bed, fucking you like you never knew you needed.
As you clung onto your husband, your lips formed the words without thought, mouthing them silently to the ceiling, “Yes, sir.”
George took up your mind until your thoughts were so vivid that you swore you could smell him right there with you, taking the place of your husband. Even Andrew’s soft sounds were that of George and you were buzzing off the fresh memory that burned within you, completely encapsulated by the man that wasn’t yours. You could do nothing else but picture him on top of you instead, mouthing his name to your bedroom ceiling over and over as if speaking to him in your mind.
“That’s it.”
The breathy faint voice that ghosted across your ear tore you from the strength of your imagination but the power that George still held over you kept you going just that little bit longer.
“Holy shit, you’re gonna cum already?” Andrew chuckled against your cheek, “I can fucking feel it.”
“Shh.” you pulled his face back into your neck, playing it off effortlessly that you were too close for casual conversation. That wasn’t entirely a lie because the words that George spoke to you in your memory were certainly bringing you closer by the second, urging your muscles to tighten up around your husband’s dick.
Andrew kept his pace going even as your nails pressed into the muscles of his back and your body fell into pleasure beneath his. Your orgasm certainly wasn’t as strong as the two you had that afternoon but it was still real and it still felt good, regardless of the slight disappointment that filled your guilty conscience.
“Yes.” you squeaked out, tangling your hand in the back of his hair to grip tightly to his soft brunette roots, “Fuck-”
“Oh my God.” Andrew groaned from over top of you, shifting away from you a little to get a better angle with his hands pressed onto the pillow on either side of your head.
Panting softly underneath him, your hands slid down to his biceps and you held onto him as he thrusted into you a little faster, those big brown eyes staring right into your distracted gaze. He was still as beautiful as ever to you and the expression of pleasure that spread across his face was just as breathtaking as the first night you shared together six years earlier. Only seconds later, he was pulling out of you and coming right across your abdomen with the added help of his own hand, offering quiet moans to your bedroom walls as he finished himself off. You watched him closely, tearing your eyes away from his face to glance down between you under the sheets to get a glimpse at the mess he made across your flushed skin.
“Shit.” he huffed and carefully shifted off of you.
You took the sheets from him to hold them up and out of the way as he rolled over to grab a few tissues from the bedside table. He helped to clean you up like the gentleman he was and then you let the blankets fall gracefully over the both of you as he leaned in for a few breathless kisses.
“How was that?” he asked teasingly.
You bit back your smile, “Good.”
“Good?” he laughed lightly, feigning offence, “Just good, huh?”
“You know what I mean.” you swatted his chest playfully.
Andrew tossed the sheets back and swung his legs off the bed, “I’m gonna throw this out. Did you want water or anything?”
“I’m okay.”
He leaned back down towards you for one more kiss, “Okay. Be right back.”
You tucked the sheets up to your chin as you watched him stand up and shuffle his underwear back on before he was patting across the carpeted floor to the ensuite bathroom. When he was out of view, your eyes drifted to the flowers still resting on the dresser across the room and you nibbled at your bottom lip to try and keep the guilt at bay. Then, you looked straight up at the ceiling instead, trying to settle the rapid beating of your heart over the realization that you had to think of another man apart from your husband to get off. That had never happened before.
Andrew’s gentle humming came from the bathroom as he brushed his teeth and finished getting ready for bed and you tried to let the familiarity of his voice soothe you but it didn’t do much. Instead, you just kept wondering what George sounded like when he sang or what music he played when he baked or if he was thinking of you as much as you were thinking of him. How ridiculous. How absolutely teenage of you.
“Alright,” Andrew emerged from the bathroom and joined you in bed once more, “all set.”
You reached over to your bedside table to turn off your lamp before laying beside him again, habitually wrapping yourself up under his arm. He kissed your head and sighed as he settled, holding you close under your shared sheets.
“I love you.” he said through the dark.
You rested your cheek against his shoulder, “I love you too.”
Andrew was drifting quickly after a long day but you were still wide awake, staring blankly across the room to the front windows and their shut curtains. You aimlessly trailed your fingertips over your husband’s chest and the faint dusting of chest hair that grew down between his pecs, wondering to yourself that if Andrew still felt like home to you, why did your mind crave to be elsewhere. Mostly, you tried not to think of George.
You really tried.
Part Two
My Very Extensive Tag List™:
@wetforwolff
#just realized if you squint this can be read as a wham! fic with straight george michael LMAO#george russell x reader#george russell imagine#george russell smut#george russell fanfic#george russell fluff#george russell#gr63#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 x female reader#f1 x oc#f1 imagine#f1 one shot#f1 smut#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 fluff#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1 x female reader#formula 1 x oc#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 one shot#formula 1 smut#formula 1 fanfic#george russell au#f1 au#formula 1 au
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Michael : Are you happiness?
Michael : Because you’re out of my reach, but I want you to be with me anyway.
Y/N :
Y/N : Was that supposed to be a pick up line?
Michael : ……Did it work?
#Five nights at Freddy’s#FNAF#fnaf fandom#five nights at Freddy’s x reader#fnaf michael afton#Michael afton#Fnaf x reader#Michael afton x reader#Michael afton x you#Michael afton x male reader#Michael afton x female reader#Michael afton x gn reader#Mike afton#Michael afton x oc#Original : Tumblr#Original : Unknown#I’ve had a crush on this man since 2020
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Bella's Masterlist of Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Michael Kinsella, & Daryl Dixon Series & One Shots
I am currently working on multiple series and fics for Matt Murdock, Frank Castle, Michael Kinsella, and Daryl Dixon. I've updated my Masterlist so that each link will bring you to a separate, organized Masterlist for each specific character because there are just so many now! There's also some "bonus" characters I write for listed at the bottom of this Masterlist (Henry from Eat Locals, Owen Sleater in the future maybe). Always feel free to chat with me about any of the fics or characters I'm writing for. Y'all know I'm chatty!
I post new fics/updates multiple times a week and all of my stories are available fully on tumblr and AO3. If you'd like information on my tag lists you can find that here.
Masterlist of Matt Murdock Fics and Series
Masterlist of Frank Castle Fics and Series
Masterlist of Michael Kinsella Fics and Series
Masterlist of Daryl Dixon Fics
Additional Characters:
Henry x Fem!Werewolf!Reader Mini Series
Forbidden Love [Installment List]
Pairing: Vampire Henry x Fem!Werewolf!Reader
Warnings/tags: Smut, blood, biting (I mean...that's a given), bit of enemies to lovers, maybe some angst and fluff
After awhile you'd grown used to the vampire who often lurked around the woods you hunted in. Though that didn't mean his irritating presence didn't bother you, or that you didn't wonder why he often seemed to be waiting for you–especially since your kinds weren't meant to intermingle.
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock fem!reader#matt murdock x you#daredevil x female reader#daredevil x reader#matt murdock fanfic#matt murdock fic#matt murdock series#matt murdock x ofc#matt murdock x oc#matt murdock smut#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock angst#matt murdock fanfiction#michael kinsella#michael kinsella x reader#michael kinsella x you#frank castle#frank castle x you#frank castle x reader#frank castle x f!reader#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon x you#daryl dixon#the walking dead#henry eat locals
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Fanfiction Recommendations (pt 3)
Happy Marriage
Most Noble
The Wristwatch
Hanaki
@mochie85 @aesonmae @november-rayne @peacefulpianist @littlejuicebox @lokisgoodgirl @lokisbirdofhermes @lokisprettygirl @eleniblue @lokibug @acidcasualties @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @liminalpebble @skymoonandstardust @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @gigglingtiggerv2 @smolvenger @five-miles-over @lokischambermaid @wheredafandomat @holdmytesseract @jiyascepter @kneelingtoloki-blog @kneelingformyloki @villainousshakespeare
#repost#reply#loki#loki friggason#bickering couple#angst with happy ending#ignoring canon#loki marvel#loki x oc#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento#nanami x reader#ewan nation#michael gavey smut#michael gavey fanfic#michael gavey x reader#michael gavey#michael gavey x you#loki god of mischief#loki series#loki fic#loki laufeyson x reader#loki oneshot#loki x f!reader#loki x female reader#loki x reader#astarion ancunin#astarion romance#astarion x female reader#astarion x y/n
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Incorrect quotes#685 Jaws 2
F/Mc is currently making dinner with Barbatos and Michael(Odd combo it...but Luke wants His Demon dad to get along with Michael...and no one can say no to those puppy eyes)so the trio is peeling potatoes
Mich*Is peeling the potatoes when he accidentally his finger*Oh heaven I cut my finger! Mc dear I need help I'm bleeding!*Shows her bleeding cut*
F/Mc*Not looking up with a monotone tone, still peeling*Yes, me too for the past 3 days now...now go cry somewhere else
Mich:wha-
Barb*stirring the stew with shacking shoulders as he bites his lip to hold laughter*"Let him have it my darling~"
Darbie*Who is next to his daddy showing him flowered shaped carrots he cut*Dun cry mister Michael...but she is right
Mich*Finally realized what their talking about and dies internally*
Updated Mikey's new look...
#obey me#obey me!#obey me! mc#obey me mc#obey me x mc#obey me x gn!mc#obey me x reader#obey me x gn!reader#obey me barbatos#obey me michael#obey me lild#obey me oc#barbatos x reader#barbatos x mc#obey me luke#platonic barbatos x luke#platonic mc x luke#daddy barbatos#obey me female mc#obey me incorrect quotes#obey me in the nutshell#incorrect quotes
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I've rewritten the Scary, Spicy, and Sweet? request as a full story with an OC. Please read and support me on Wattpad and Ao3 (I've decided to continue to use the platform due to inconsistent stories)
Wattpad Link:
Ao3 link:
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Smut prompts 21 and 31 for Enzo please.
Congrats on 2k love!!!
Hot and Bothered
Warnings: cursing, heavy make out session, talk about sex, slight choking kink
Pairings: Enzo St. John x Female Human Reader
Summary: pretty much just a steamy make out session with Enzo lmao.
Prompts
21. "You're so sexy when you're all hot and bothered."
31. Heavy kissing/Heavy make out
Requested: yes
Word Count: 300+
© Maybanks-Luver, please do not steal or translate my work
You smiled against Enzo's lips as the two of you made out passionately. You had just gotten home from work a little while ago and the second that you walked through the door, his lips were on yours.
And since then, the two of you had been making out. The feeling of his hand wrapped around your throat while the two of you made out drove you wild. The way he would gently squeezed, not harshly but, enough to put pressure onto your throat, enough to feel your arousal pooling between your legs.
God he was perfect in every way. You didn't know how you were so lucky to have such a perfect man like Enzo in your life. He broke the kiss for a moment only to gently push you down onto your back on the couch.
He then got in between your legs and his lips found yours again. Your tongues danced together as he began to grind himself against your aching core. It couldn't be more perfect right now. This was the perfect way to be greeted after a long, tiering day at work.
You tangled your fingers in his hair as the two of you made out passionately. After a little while of making out, he pulled back and then smirked down at you. You giggled and bit your lip.
"What? What is it?" You asked with a giggle.
"God, you're so fucking perfect. Like a fucking goddess." He said as he kissed along your neck. You smiled at his praise and played with his hair as he kissed along your neck.
"God, I can't wait to fuck you." He said with a smirk.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" You asked with a devilish smirk.
a/n: sorry I know this was short! I just had writers block when I wrote this, I'll try to make a longer version soon!
#tvd#tvdu#the vampire diaries#the vampire diaries universe#vampire diaries#enzo st john#lorenzo saint john#enzo saint john#lorenzo st john#michael malarkey#enzo st john x reader#enzo st john x human reader#enzo st john x female reader#enzo st john x fem!reader#enzo st john x f!reader#enzo st john x you#enzo st john x oc#enzo st john x y/n#enzo st john x fem!human reader#enzo st john x female human reader#enzo st john x f!human reader#enzo st. john#lorenzo st. john#smut#tvd smut#tvdu smut#enzo smut#enzo st john smut#lorenzo st john smut#smut warning
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YOMNA'S MASTERLIST ♡ ⋆｡˚
Note: I only write Fluff/Angst x fem!reader, and my works might contain violent/bloody themes due to the nature of the fictional characters/fictional works I write for.
I do not write smut.
Another important thing, a lot of these works are old ones so, figurative language, phrasing and my very style might be a little messed up—but it progresses. I am not a professional writer but I'm always trying to improve my writing, and it is more visible in my more recent works, hopefully.
ᐅ Last updated: 01/03/2024
tone nav. : F/fluff — A/angst — V/violence
↳ [each work is marked individually]
← navigation
♡ Fics/Blurbs
↓ Requests
☆ In A Heartbeat [Matt Murdock x Madilyn Mayfield (oc)] → [ON GOING]
↳ mattilyn blurbs ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚
♡ Fics/Blurbs
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☆ Arduous Solitude [Henry x fem!reader installment series] → [ON GOING]
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★ yuna's 2h followers sleepover celebration
★ yuna's 22nd birthday sleepover
#yarrystyleeza#daredevil#matt murdock#mattmurdock#charliecox#devil of hell’s kitchen#matt murdock x female reader#Matt Murdock x OC#tristan thorn fanfiction#tristan thorn x reader#tristan#tristanthorn#tristan thorn#charlie cox#matt murdock x reader#michael kinsella#michael kinsella x reader#fan fiction#fanfiction#fanfic#daryl dixon#daryl dixon x female reader#daryl dixion x reader#norman reedus#henry eat locals#Henry the vampire#Henry x fem!reader
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𝟘𝟜:𝟘𝟜; starstarstar || michael jackson
Music — Michael Jackson x black, female oc
To me he is magnificent, nobody else compared. To me he is the embodiment of purity and the innocence adults tried desperately to hide—however tragic it may seem to others. In my eyes he can do little to no wrong; we all make mistakes, don’t we?
These thoughts that linger in my mind always become most prominent late at night while I’m trying to go to sleep or working on a project for him. And I always end up writing them in my journal, just as I am today, for safe keeping, for hiding my feelings amongst these blue lines of secrets. Where I can fully admit to myself that I am, indeed, in love with Michael.
But, I certainly am not the first to come to this realization…and I certainly won’t be the last. And that truth hurts most of all.
I close my notebook with a long sigh and rest my head on my arms. Reading over my words caused a rough pang in my chest and I immediately wanted to stop writing. “Isn’t this too much?”
These feelings were too bothersome.
—
“Axelle, I need your help, do you think you can come over today?” His voice was sweet and coated in calming raindrops, causing a shiver to run up my spine. “Yeah, what d’you need help with?”
“Choreography…and maybe a song or two,” he hummed thoughtfully. I nod to myself. “I can do that, I’ll see you in a bit.”
A wave of disappointment overtakes me as I hang up the phone. I don’t know what I expected, or why I keep getting my hopes up every time I answer his calls. He’s completely oblivious and I’m turning into a wreck over something I have yet to tell him—more less show him. I groan, “Erugh—he’s so annoying.”
Sitting up from my comfortable position on my reading chair, I stretch and get ready for the longest drive I’ve ever taken, the drive to Neverland.
—
“Let’s add a few more steps to the beginning and I think it’ll be finished, yeah?” I breathe out hunched over and looking at Michael through the mirror.
He gives a tight nod as he gasps out his own raspy breaths. His umber eyes meet mine in the mirror and he smiles slightly. “Do you wanna stay for dinner?” I grin. “In other words, you want me to cook, huh?”
“I like your fried chicken,” Michael laughs guiltily, “Sue me.”
I finally came to a stand with a half-hearted chuckle and shake of my head. “Fine, but I’m staying the night.”
“That’s fine by me,” he shrugs, “I wouldn’t let you drive this late anyways.”
My heart skips a beat at that. He meant nothing by it; we’re just close friends, Axelle, remember that.
“It’s dangerous out there for women.” He only cemented that fact.
—
I inhale a deep breath, stretching my arms behind my back, as I balance myself on a fallen tree and glance up at the sky.
Due to Neverland being hundreds of acres long the sky was breathtakingly beautiful. The night was starless but the moon seemed to shine brighter than the sun because of that. It was large and white and brought a soothing to me that I couldn’t quite comprehend. I smile.
I couldn’t help but to be reminded of Michael.
It was rather late, though, I hadn’t bothered to check the time before I had waltzed out of the house, it was definitely some time past midnight.
It had been hard to sleep—clad in one of his collared shirts—and I had decided to get up and go for a walk to clear my head.
My feelings were still quite foreign to me, and some times felt like somebody else’s unrequited love, but once my heart starts spiraling and my brain pounding with emotion, I’m reminded of the fact that this love is mine. And no one else’s. And, yet, I’m still not the only one to come to that conclusion.
A fierce gust of wind whips past as if to agree with my thoughts. I sigh, “How bothersome.”
“What’s bothersome?”
I quickly turn around with wide eyes to be met with Michael’s tired expression. “What’re you doing out here Axelle?” He mumbles wearily. I rub at my neck awkwardly, “I, uh, couldn’t sleep.” He raises a brow at me—emphasizing his disbelief—hopping onto the log and standing next to me. “Axelle…you walked an hour away from the house, I drove here on one of my go carts,” he deadpanned.
“Huh?” I blink stupidly. “An hour!” Michael nods slowly. “I guess I must’ve been too deep in thought to notice.”
We stood there for a moment after that, basking in each other’s presence. And, just then, a few stars casted their glow from behind darkened clouds and shadowed canopies. “So…what were you thinking about?” He asked the question as if he knew the answer, and that tone gave me all the more reason to respond vaguely. “Uh, y’know, life.”
He glances at me, a disheartened look etched on his tan features, “That’s it? Just life? Nothing else?” I stare at him. “What else did you want me to say?”
He shakes his head. “Never mind, forget I said anything; let’s head back before you catch a cold.”
Slightly hesitant to leave the beauty of night I follow after Michael who trudged towards the go cart a few feet away. What was that all about? I ponder as I sit down next to him in the passenger seat. “Ready?” I nod, “Yeah…”
—
The wind was quite playful later on that morning, dark clouds dotting the azure blue sky here and there. And the scent of sweet rain loitered in the air. “It’s going to storm soon,” I murmur to myself.
I exhale a heavy breath and close my eyes, enjoying the cool breeze and greying weather.
“You’re up early.”
I smile at the words that sounded behind me. “We got back at four last night…I never went back to sleep. It was truly bothersome.”
Michael hands me a large cup filled to the brim with iced coffee (a bottle of orange juice preoccupied his left hand). “I couldn’t sleep either.”
I grinned against the cup’s edge. “By the way, how’d you find me last night?”
“I was out there to enjoy the night myself when I saw you,” he runs a hand through his curls with a short giggle, “You scared me half to death, y’know.”
I chuckle. “Sorry…I’m sure it was funny, though.” I sip at my coffee, crush gnawing in my chest. I am completely hopeless, aren’t I?
—
Michael sat a little ways away from me, a distant and concentrated gleam in his eye as he scribbled down on the paper in front of him. There were loads of papers covered with lyrics or musical notes scattered about the table. He hummed a small tune quietly to himself.
I hum along with him as I write my own set of notes.
After a while he slouches back against his seat, satisfaction etched on his features. “That sounded nice.” I nod, glancing up at him, “I wrote some of it down.”
“You already know I can’t read that.”
I grin, “Then, aren’t you glad I’m here to help?”
His smile is wide as he replies, “Of course I am! I’m extremely grateful for you, Axelle.”
My heart skips a beat again. “And I’m grateful for you, Michael.”
More than you know. And more than I dare to tell you.
—
Some times I find myself caught in a situation like this. Where he catches me looking at him intently and we now found ourselves staring at each other for minutes—eons—on end. I was always the one to look away. But, this time, for the very first time, he blinks the trance away and turns back towards the food on his plate.
It was evening time once again. Heavy rain pattered on the roof and danced on the window pane.
The two of us had been eating in silence for the last ten minutes. I was beginning to become anxious. Did he have something to say? Did he want me to leave? With how hard it was storming I doubt that a possibility. Then, what could it be? How bothersome.
“Do you, uh—“ I look up at him as he stammers out a question, “—do you wanna watch a movie after dinner?”
I raise an eyebrow at that. “You don’t wanna keep working? The song’s almost done.” Michael shakes his head, “No, I just wanna spend some time with you…that’s not work related.”
“Aww,” I grin, “Well, how could I say no to my dear friend? What movie did you have in mind? Peter Pan?” He smiles back. “Yeah, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course not. Let’s have some ice cream, too.”
—
“I like you.”
The confession was abrupt and rushed and almost made me drop my ice cream.
I turn away from the children flying across London on the tv as a loud crash of thunder roared across the sky outside. My eyes are wide as I stare at his awkward expression. “You what?”
His teeth nip at his bottom lip, averting his nervous gaze to the movie, and I could see him shiver as my stare continued. “Ummm…I like you.”
I blink. “Huh—well, this is rather easy. I thought I would be the one to confess in a few years at your wedding to some random lady that I’d glare at every time I saw her.”
“What…?” Michael sends me a weird look. I shake my head with a light chuckle. “Never mind. That doesn’t matter because I like you, too.”
His smile is large and bright and beautiful. “I’ve been waiting a long time to hear you say that.”
“I thought I hid my feelings quite well,” I huff. He shrugs, “You did, I actually had no idea how you felt but, I wanted to take a chance.” I smile back and lean in close. “I’m glad you did. I can finally do this now.” Before he could question what I meant my lips brush against his for the briefest of moments. But, it was enough to determine that his lips were, indeed, the softest and he does, in fact, taste the sweetest.
“Mmmm…I think I might get addicted to kissing you Michael.” Michael’s laugh is loud as he throws his head back in amusement. “That’s fine by me.”
“Good ‘cause I’m about to do it again.”
To me he is perfect, nobody else will do. And as of today, my best friend is finally mine.
#black writers#excerpt from a book i'll never write#black female reader#black oc#fanfiction#michael#michael jackson#michael joseph jackson#mjj#mjjackson#mjjforever#mjjfans#mjj fanfiction#peter x mj#MJ#mj fanfic#michael jackson fanfiction#fanfic#just good friends#happy birthday michael jackson#bad era#80s
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Everybody's Free (Part 19)
Wardlow x f/Reader
Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.
Gifs & photos do not belong to me.
Warnings: Some swearing.
Main Masterlist ♡ AEW Masterlist ♡ Wardlow Masterlist ♡ Everybody's Free Masterlist
Summary: F/Reader is friends with Sammy & everyone in the Inner Circle. She is also a member of his vlog squad. They found out she has a secret boyfriend & they try to figure out who it is.
Daniel - Cash Wheeler ☆ David - Dax Harwood ☆ Ronnie - Shawn Spears ☆ Miguel- Ortiz ☆ Mike - Santana
Sammy Guevara's POV:
The news of YN and Wardlow getting married travelled fast through work and I tried not to pay attention.
"It was beautiful and just so perfect." Is what everyone was saying. That they announced that they were having twins, a boy and girl.
The day of their wedding, Tay found me actually pouting in the hotel pool. She tried to cheer me up, but nothing and I mean nothing was working.
So I decided to take a few weeks off. I needed space to clear my head of all this.
I never once thought our friendship would end like this. I always thought she would be at my wedding and I at hers.
That our children would grow up together and be best friends just like us, but then she had to fall in love with Wardlow.
To me, it still doesn't make sense. She knew how I felt about him and still saw him behind my back.
I even brought that up to Tay. "You can't help who you love Sammy." Was all my girlfriend said to me.
I know her and YN got a long well, but Tay has stood by my side through all of this. Unlike Mike and Miguel.
Those two traitors actually went to the wedding and then left The Inner Circle to join Eddie, who I heard walked her down the aisle.
Which brought me back to when her Grandpa passed away and we were talking about what a great man he was.
"I have no one to walk me down the aisle if I ever get married Sammy. That is the one thing he said he was going to do." YN said as she cried.
"Don't worry YN, I'll walk you down the aisle."
I was pulled away from my memories by a few fans coming up and asking for a photo and autograph.
Wardlow's POV:
Even though we couldn't fly to our dream honeymoon spot, I did book us at a beautiful place called The Sanderling Resort & Spa.
It was still on the beach and we still had our privacy with one another. I do believe I made love to my very pregnant wife on every single surface I possibly could.
Made sure to request a fresh big bowl of strawberries be brought with our lunch each day just for her.
But now we are back home in Ohio. Been home for a few days in our finished home and I have been doing the final touches on the nursery.
YN and I decided that we would have the two of them in the same room until they a bit older and then they will each get their own room.
And that is where she found me most days when I am not with her. I just finished putting together a dresser and I heard her call my name, saying it is time for lunch.
She was sitting at the counter, her hand on her stomach as she happily ate her Turkey burger.
I kissed her on her cheek and then leaned down and kissed her stomach. I could feel the babies moving around.
I was nervous about leaving her alone. After we came back from our honeymoon, we had a Doctors appointment and she told us that YN should be staying home and not travel.
At first YN started to complain because she was hoping she had a bit more time being on the road, but she really only has about a month and half left and hopefully the two of them will not show up too early.
So right now, we are just trying to make the best of it all. Even though I know she hasn't said anything, this is bothering her.
But I am not going to bring it up because I did already and she told me that she was fine.
"What time is your flight?" She asked me, pulling me from my thoughts.
"4 am." She just nodded her head as she took another bite of her sandwhich.
"My Mom says she will be here by 9."
"What for?"
I guess YN forgot. This pregnancy brain is the real thing. "To take you shopping. You mentioned we need a family friendly car."
"Oh yeah." I could tell she was getting upset. YN has handled this pregnancy well. The puking, the cravings, the insatiable sex, everything she had handled with ease.
But her forgetting things has her frustrated more than she will ever care to admit.
"Do you care which one we pick out?"
"No, as long as you are happy with it, that is all that matters."
I already called my Mom and gave her a heads up about where the two of them will be going and that a Taxi will be taking them there.
I also called the car dealership and gave them my information and card details so that way the two of them can just drive off the lot with it.
The two of us finished eating and I quickly cleaned up the kitchen.
I found YN sitting in our livingroom, with a bowl of strawberries and grapes resting on her stomach.
She was watching The Breakfast Club. It was her go to movie when she is sad.
I knelt down in front of her and she paused the movie. I gently cupped her face and she had tears in her eyes.
"What is the matter baby? I know you're sad."
"I don't want you to go."
"I don't want to either but I do have to go to work for a bit."
"I know, it's just I am going to be alone in our home until you come back."
I was going to say that my Mom is coming around but YN beat me to it.
"I know your Mom won't be far, and I know I can call your sisters but they aren't you Michael."
"I will facetime you every chance I get."
"I know, but I just need you here with me."
"Look baby, I am only gone for two weeks. Then after that, I will be home and you are stuck with me until the babies are born."
My mom will be moving in once the babies are born to help YN when I am not here. It is only temporary but YN and I both know she will need help.
"Lets not be sad anymore. Why don't we go out for an early dinner and then go out for dessert." I said to her.
"How about The Cheesecake Factory?"
"Sounds good to me. Why don't we finish watching the movie and then once it is done, we can head out." I said to her as I finally joined her on the couch, popping one of her strawberries into my mouth.
~
I woke up early the next morning and just held onto her as I had a few moments to spare before I had to get up and start to get ready.
I had a quick shower and double checked that I had everything. I went downstairs to the kitchen to grab something to take with me for the ride to the airport, but there was my wife, packing me breakfast at 2 am.
I wrapped my arms around her waist and told her thank you as I kissed her neck.
"Do not start something you can not finish Mister. Go, the airport taxi is waiting."
She walked me to the front door and we kissed each other goodbye. Me promising her that I will call her the moment I land.
"Love you Michael. Have a safe trip."
"Love you too baby. Get some more sleep."
I knew she was watching me as I walked to the taxi and got in. I had the driver wait until she closed the door behind her and I could clearly see that the hallway light was turned off and the lamp in our room got turned off a few moment later.
~
The moment I landed in California, I called YN just like I promised. She answered the phone on the second ring and she told me my Mom was there.
The three of us talked a bit but then they had to leave. I told YN I would call her later that night and text her throughout the day.
~
It took a bit but I am finally out of the airport and on my way to the hotel, where I met up with Ronnie, David and Daniel.
"There he is. How was the honeymoon?" Ronnie asked me as he patted me on the back.
"It was amazing. Glad we found it. Just the perfect spot." I told them honestly.
"How is she doing?" David asked me. He is the only one out of the group who understands as he has travelled before when his wife was pregnant.
"She is upset she got told to stay home. YN is used to travelling and being with me or anyone of us actually."
"So what is she doing?" Daniel asked as we headed to go and the meeting that Tony was holding in one of the hotel conference rooms.
"Well right now she is going to buy a new car because she needs one for her and the babies." I smiled at the thought of our babies.
The conversation shifted to different topics as we walked, but then I heard his annoying voice.
"Well well well, if it isn't Michael. So nice to see you back. How was the honeymoon?" I didn't answer Sammy, I just kept walking.
"I hear congratulations are in order. Twins? A boy and a girl. Oh how sweet...but I do wonder, are they yours?"
I stopped walking. I heard Ronnie say shit as I turned, ready to knock the shit out of Sammy, but Daniel and David were holding me back.
"Sammy, if I was you, I would walk away before the Big Man puts you in the hospital, yeah?" Max said as he walked towards us, with Colten and Austin not far behind him.
Sammy just smirked at me, knowing he got to me and walked past us but Max had the final word.
"Oh Sammy?" He stopped and turned to look at Max.
"What?"
"If you ever and I mean ever hear you say something like that again about YN, Mike or their children, you won't just have to worry about Mike."
"Is that a threat?"
"Take it how you want, but you have been warned."
It looked like Sammy wanted to say something but all he did was flip us off and walked into the room.
Today is going to be one long day.
Part 20
Tag List: if you would like to be added, please let me know. @lghockey @ecarroll1978 @wardlow @anaeve @crowleysqueenofhell @thewrestlingbitch @thenerdybaker523 @hungmanhorsecarriagge @brie-mode-activated @louisianalady @daddyslittlevillain @baybay-boom @lilred91 @1dnhhsmk @ladyviperrko @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @kawaiikels @wwenhlimagines
#aew#all elite wrestling#reader imagine#female reader#reader insert#mike wardlow#wardlow#wardlow x reader#michael wardlow#wardlow imagine#wardlow series#wardlow x female reader#wardlow x you#wardlow x oc
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Carpe Diem | Michael Gavey x fem!reader
Summary: After himself being ditched by Oliver, they meet once again. Both seemingly skirting around what happened in the Common Room when they last saw one another. | Word Count: 5.1k~ (oops) | Warnings below the cut!
Part One: Quid Pro Quo
Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici
warnings: virgin michael, oral sex (f receiving), fingering
A/N: I feel...like the word count is overboard but FUCK IT it's my blog 😈
“Greek and Latin both belong to the Indo-European language family, which does not necessarily mean they are similar. The branches are totally different. Whereas Latin belongs to the Romance branch, Greek belongs to the…”
She half-listens to the lecture, caught between Professor Wardon’s monotone ramblings and scribbling whatever bits and pieces she can string together in swirly handwriting, trying to ignore Trevor two rows in front of her, typing loudly on his brand new Macbook that he no doubt got from his well-off parents for Christmas.
Pencil and paper for the peasants, she thinks bitterly.
The laptop she has back in her dorm is clunky, too thick for carrying in her bag, and any notes she makes now will have to be typed up meticulously later. She supposes it’s a good way of getting the information to be irreparably printed into her brain though. That’s the only thing keeping her from going insane.
Which is where she finds herself now, in the wee hours of the morning, her fingers so tired and eyes so strained she feels that all the letters and characters are beginning to merge together.
She's just about to close the damn thing when a notification blares in the bottom right corner of her screen.
‘m_gav_314159265359 is now online’
She presses her lips together to stifle a laugh at the username, it makes her giggle every time. Of course his username is fucking Pi.
After their little ‘happening’ in the Common Room, they'd talked for a bit over MSN, sometimes texting when she had enough credit and even more rarely meeting up at Trinity College campus. Their timetables never seemed to line up very often, so their meetings were quick and over before they could even get settled into really getting to know each other.
It felt strange to have done something so exciting and yet not really know someone.
The memory made her blush. She was never usually that impulsive and brazen. But she didn't regret it.
Everytime Michael saw her, his cheeks flushed almost without her even needing to try. And it felt nice to see someone act like that in her presence.
After lectures had started after Christmas into the New Year and then into Spring, she found herself somewhat self-conscious. Second guessing herself. Wondering if the freedom and calmness of the holiday period had given him a new sense of clarity.
After all, he'd not spoken to her once since lectures had started again.
A heaviness weighed in her chest, bitterly like rejection.
Maybe she was delirious from the time of night, but she felt a surge of courage, desperately wanting to just know if this was going to be more or not.
She felt her cheeks heat somewhat, rubbing the backs of her knuckles against her lips. There was no time to reply before he sent another.
And if what he'd said before didn't make her face burn, that certainly did. She nearly smirked when she thought to herself, 'you mean when I sucked you off in the Common Room?'
But she didn't type that. She decided to have mercy on him, if only a little.
His replies were so blunt and to the point that they were so quintessentially Michael. She found herself wondering if what he'd typed before had been for the intention of making her blush, but she doubted it. He seemed the type to be somewhat oblivious to how words could affect the opposite sex.
Or anything to do with the opposite sex for that matter.
Her stomach fluttered with excitement as she typed off a few quick goodbyes and with a soft, plastic tap, shut her laptop for the night.
“There are no fit guys in my class this semester, fucking livid,” Priya rolls her eyes, nursing a stale pint and a cigarette.
“Did you really expect Modern Languages to be teeming with attractive men?” She smirks in response.
“No. But I at least expected a good shag within the first three months.”
“Does they have to be within our course?”
“No, course not. I'm not lazy as fuck. Can’t be arsed to go off campus.”
She laughs, waving the smoke trail that's formed between their faces, the smell of cigarettes and damp, beer-soaked carpets fill her senses, nursing the only pint she's capable of downing.
“Don't shit where you eat, Priya.”
“Don't you fuckin’ start,” she grins with all her perfect teeth before checking her phone, “fuck, is that the time. Sorry mate you've got like half your pint left-”
“Don't be silly, just go. Whoever you're meeting is bound to have a bigger cock than me anyway.”
“You're a nasty bitch, you know that?” she smiles, standing and pulling her mini-skirt down, “see you later? Catch up?”
“Wouldn't miss it for the world. Have fun!”
“Oh I will!”
She smiles, sipping the stale beer as Priya rushes out the door excitedly tapping the keypads on her phone in reply to a guy no-doubt, nearly running right into a lamppost.
She pulled out her own phone, spotting a new message from the ex-boyfriend she hadn’t heard a peep out of since Freshers Week, groaning with a displeased expression at the first few lines of text that read as if he were desperate. Even over the crackling sound of the speakers and Daniel Powter’s ‘Bad Day’ lulling quietly through the pub, she was still sensitive to the sound of his voice.
“-get me another pint please, Oliver? Thanks.”
She had to crane her neck, half-swivelled on her chair, but it was undoubtedly him. Only one person had that hissy, direct way of speaking, had dirty, blonde hair that touched the nape of his neck and was likely to wear such an…interesting selection of clothes.
Her mouth was barely open before she realised it was Michael, and by then he was too far away to shout from across a busy pub. She found herself with a sort of stupid grin, watching him walk with such a lanky gait, as if walking were an inhuman thing for him to do.
It took her a few moments to text back a reply to her ex before she looked up again, eyebrows furrowed when she saw that whoever Michael had been with, was now umming and ahhing about whether to join the popular lot, for which she recognised Felix Catton amongst them, shockingly ill-dressed in a ‘what happens in Kassiopi stays in Kassiopi’ t-shirt, with a cigarette between his lips that had been inhaled to a nub.
She grimaced. Only rich people could dress so fucking shocking.
And then her heart leapt in a different way when she saw Michael look distantly at Oliver, his hand half-raised in an awkward wave, his face crumbling in a way where she knew he was disappointed and yet, not surprised in the slightest.
It was when Michael pushed his glasses up his nose in a way she couldn’t help but find sweet and go for the door, that she slipped from the stool she was on, a quarter of her pint left, and took off after him.
“Michael!”
The late winter air nipped at her skin, cursing internally that his legs were so fucking long he could stride a hell of a lot further than her.
“Michael!”
It wasn’t hard to see the glint of his glasses lenses off the streetlights once he’d turned to face her, his lips parted in surprise and a heat rising to his cheeks.
He swallowed visibly, “H-hey..”
She felt her own heart rattle in her chest at how easy it was to fluster him, “Hey, you alright?”
For a moment, the self-proclaimed mathematical genius seemed genuinely lost for words, his throat closing up on him like he was having a sort of allergic reaction to the opposite sex. So with all that, he simply nodded, his hands clenched as if not knowing what to do with them.
“Sorry about your mate, that was a shitty thing to do.”
“Oh, he’s…he’s not my mate.”
She nodded, rubbing her hands together to warm them from the chill, “d’you wanna go somewhere?”
Michael’s eyes behind his glasses widened, “like…together?”
“No, I’ll make you go off on your own,” she grinned, “yes together!”
He huffed an embarrassed but elated laugh, and only now her eyes studied his shirt, cocking her head in amusement at the ‘that’s how I roll’ shirt with what looked like a maths equation beneath it. The actual meaning was lost on her, but it was so dorky it made her smile.
“U-uh, my mum bought it me for Christmas...” he muttered quickly to which she cracked an even bigger smile, the two of them laughing quietly for a moment before he spoke up again.
“Do you wanna come to mine?” he asked, and it was so direct it made her blink, her lungs feeling as if they were fluttering, “I mean-my dorm.”
She wet her lips from the dry cold, watching how nervous and twitchy he was. And how it reminded her of the last time they were alone together.
“Like…catch up or something. I-I’ve got alcohol if you-”
“That’d be lovely, Michael.”
He at least seemed grateful that she’d actually replied to save him from rambling, and even cracked a thin-lipped smile himself, clearly and delightfully nervous. Thirty-minutes ago, he’d have never considered this to be the ending to his evening.
Michael’s room is disturbingly tidy, she wonders if he actually even lives here. It’s like those university rooms that they take photos of to advertise the ‘spacious’ and ‘community-driven’ atmosphere of campus life.
At least it was clean, she mused as Michael passed her a bottle of the only alcohol he had, which were lukewarm WKDs.
“Thanks,” she smiles, taking a sugary sip and looking about the room. Michael has since cracked open his own drink, but seems disinterested in it as it rests on his bouncing knee, looking up at her from where he’s sat on his desk chair from under his brow.
His laptop sits shut, pencils in a neat line next to it. His walls are bare, with what she can only assume are blue tack marks from the previous tenant’s last year. With the exception of a wall-mounted calendar next to his desk.
“No posters? Was hoping I could be nosy, see what you like.”
When she turns back to Michael he quickly looks down as if not wanting to be caught staring, “It’d just be maths stuff.”
“And Carol Vorderman?” she teases mindlessly, not catching the way his cheeks go alight.
She hums an amused laugh behind the bottle at her lips, “It’s very tidy.”
When he just replies with a shrug, she scoots off the bed to have a roam about the place, needing only a few steps to cross the room to his bookcase, filled to the brim neatly with books. She runs her finger along some of the spines.
“You’re not going to mess anything up are you?”
She laughs, coming out more of a snort, which makes her cheeks warm, “Sorry. Just curious about your books. ‘Mathematics of Language. Sounds like a bit of me and you.”
There’s that flush again.
That deer in the headlights look.
“Uh…just sounded interesting.”
“And is it?”
“Is it what?”
She smirks, “interesting.”
There’s a silence that for a moment neither of them are able to shake.
Michael swallows visibly, “don’t know yet..”
She sees something in his expression when a playful smile lifts across her face, suddenly the memories and implications of what they’d done before now weighing heavily on them. And all at once, he’s able to smell the body scrub she’d used in the shower that morning and eyes flitting to the glint of her stud earrings. He’d remembered brushing past them with his fingers when her mouth wrapped around his-
“And who says you’re not a languages man?” she presses with a teasing lilt to her voice. The tone and sing-songy nature of her voice has his heart doing backflips, feeling as if he could feel the erratic beating between his ribs.
Michael seems stuck in the position he finds himself as she lazily crosses the room, slipping back on his bed, one hand brushing across his bedsheets and the other setting the drink on his bedside table. For a long moment, his eyes couldn’t leave her. The whole situation was suitably extraordinary. A girl who had come onto him (to say the least) was now in his room, sat on his bed, touching his things…all while wearing something he personally deemed unsuitable for the cold, a dress with black tights beneath.
She turns her head to him, smiling, “you seem nervous.”
He swallows, trying to claw at any sort of reply, “is that an accusation?”
It comes out a bit harsher than he probably expected, but instead of recoiling, she bites her lip as if to stifle a full-toothed grin, “an observation.”
He shrugs, “just never had a girl in here before.”
“Worried I’ll mess up your feng shui?”
“My what?”
She genuinely laughs at that, nearly smacking her head on the bed frame, but a hearty chuckle all the same. And Michael doesn’t know why his own cheeks start to heat up at that, taking this opportunity that her eyes are shut to look down at her legs. For some reason, making her laugh just makes him want to try more.
He’s never had that feeling before. Wanting to make someone laugh.
“No, really, my what.”
She meets his eyes brightly with her own, “feng shui, it’s like…the vibe of a room, a space. Like, how you place your furniture or whatever.”
Michael raises a brow, his lip quirking on one side, “sounds like bullshit.”
“It probably is.” she laughs.
“Can I ask you something?”
The quick u-turn and tone in conversation has her eyes meet his nervously, her interest and curiosity piqued. Her hands find themselves nervously stroking her legs, the texture of the tights providing some level of comfort, “yeah sure.”
She can't quite figure out what expression he's trying to put on. His brows are furrowed in judgement and a curious sense of guarding himself. And yet he's sat back in his seat, looking at her like he is trying to figure her out, and yet wants to know why she is the way she is.
“Why did you do that?”
She blinks at the accusatory and monotone rhythm of his way of speaking.
“Do what.”
“Don't play stupid. Doesn't suit you.”
She nearly scoffs at that, “what? Why have you gone all weird all of a sudden?”
“Why did you do…that at the Christmas party?”
She shrugs and shakes her head, as if the answer should be obvious, “because I wanted to? And you didn't seem to mind either.”
“I didn't-that's not the point!” he retorts, “are you genuinely taking the mick out of me?”
“You've asked that before and no.”
“Well why then?”
“Is it not enough to really think that I find you interesting? And nice to talk to?”
Of all the things she expected Michael Gavey to go quiet at, it certainly wasn't that. But she watches him all the same, the line between his brow slowly disappearing as his frown vanishes.
She cocks her head, “and not bad looking either.”
“Stop it.”
“I mean it!”
“Nobody wants the fucking maths virgin-”
“Michael. I don't give a fuck about that,” she says calmly, “Hell, I was a virgin not that long ago. You keep saying ‘nobody wants the virgin’ but you can't keep using that as an excuse just because you're embarrassed you haven't done anything.”
He sighs, like he doesn't want to believe her. And she can hardly believe how self-deprecating and yet direct this man can be in a single breath.
“Look, if you don't want to talk to me, I can always go-”
Almost as soon as she is stood, he is too, one large hand wrapped around her forearm, “No.”
They've been sat so long, she had almost forgotten how tall he was, and the difference between them briefly has her tummy doing back flips. From here, she is able to smell whatever body wash he uses, and if she had to guess, probably blue radox.
“No, I didn't say I wanted you to go. Stay…”
He doesn't say ‘please’ once, and yet she's able to hear the desperation.
When she doesn't move, his grip loosens, and she feels tingly all over when his hand slides up her arm.
“Can I kiss you again like last time?”
She almost smiles in adoration at how he asks it, but for the sake of saving him the embarrassment of thinking she's laughing at him, settles for a simple and gentle nod of her head. She is sure she's not really thought it through. Weighing up the pros and cons isn't exactly the first thing on her mind right now though as Michael has to bend significantly to crash his lips to hers.
Much like last time, he is a bit endearingly clumsy, his lips moving quickly on hers like he's running a race with his mouth. This time there is no pool table for him to cage her against, but all the same his legs take him forwards until her knees hit the edge of his bed.
By the time he is on top of her, she's managed to weave her fingers through his hair, her nose nudging against his glasses every now and then, and guiding him with her own movements to slow down and enjoy the moment, with no need to rush.
She knows that secretly he's probably just excited.
But this time, his hands are extremely active.
She's unable to help the breathy whimper between desperate kisses as he tentatively squeezes her thighs, not quite brave enough to go beneath the dress yet and drifting upwards to her breasts, touching and clutching fondly, as if any harsh grip or movement and she'll get up and leave.
He's still unsure, maybe even nervous, she can feel it.
It's here she realises that whether he is doing it subconsciously or not, she can feel the strained bulge at the front of his trousers rubbing up against the inside of her leg, probably chasing friction that feels too good for him to feel lucid.
“Can I see you…” he asks as his lips break away.
She doesn't even reply, she just complies, pulling the sleeves of her dress over her shoulders and the bra straps along with it. The position she's in making it near impossible to reach behind her.
If she could print his face in her mind as she pulled her dress down to her ribs, she would. He looks entirely mesmerised in adoration, and once the only thing covering her breasts is the thin material of her bra, Michael looks at her with an almost dream-like gaze.
His hand moves before his mouth, or at least before he catches himself, “Is it oka-”
“Course..” she says far too quickly.
All she can hear as Michael pulls the thin straps of her bra fully down her arms, exposing her breasts, is his breath, staggered and uneven. His hand easily covers one of her breasts, squeezing experimentally, his thumb gently drifting over her nipple and watching them stiffen to needy buds.
She doesn’t need to look between them to see how hard he is, she can feel him against her thigh, where her dress has since ridden up to her hips.
His glasses knock against her chest as he leans down, all-too-carefully covering her nipple with his tongue, like he is trying to print the taste of them to memory.
There is an unconscious desire to press her thighs together, but she settles for rolling her hips, causing Michael’s voice to rumble against her chest where he mouths at her breasts. One hand forever stays at the one he isn’t paying lip service to, testing the weight and shape in his palms.
It feels like all sensitivity has been turned up to 1000. He is so slow, so unsure, that every languid movement has every nerve feel as if it’s on fire. A selfish part of her wants him to go faster, so used to the fervent, almost rushing nature of who she’d been with before. It was never like this, borderline worshipping.
“Michael…” she breathes, rolling her hips against him experimentally, rewarded with a low whine from him.
She watched as her nipple slips from his lips in the most erotic manner she’d ever seen, before his clear eyes are on her again.
“Is this okay? Am I doing something wr-”
“No,” she shakes her head quickly, “feels nice.”
Michael licks his lips, a sign of how nervous he is, “Can I do something else?”
He is so eager to please, to learn, that looking at his face as he asks she can hardly deny him. And her head moves without effort, nodding as she watches his hand disappear beneath the hem of her dress to pull her tights down her legs.
It then becomes obvious what he wants to do.
“Are you sure, I-”
“I’m sure.” he adds, rolling the black nylon down her legs until all that is left between Michael and her bare skin below her hips, is her underwear. A flush of embarrassment engulfs her face at the thought of how aroused she might be, knowing he has no experience, she doesn’t want to scare him off. The tender and yet needy way he’d mouthed at her breasts had her body all warm, and she can’t remember the last time she’d been this ready for anything.
“I just want to do the same for you as you did for me. Make you feel good.”
And that certainly doesn’t help that feeling either.
She’s not sure if she will get tired of the sight of his long, lithe fingers gripping her thighs apart, and for a moment she finds herself entranced by the view, until he is pressing sweet kisses to the inside of them. Open-mouthed, with an addictive cooling sensation when he pulls away, only to edge closer to the centre of her underwear.
Her breath remains stuck in her chest as she watches him navigate the female body, mapping it out in his head. She knows better than to say anything, knowing him as she does now, he is immensely competitive, and wants to get things right. It’s likely if she stepped in to instruct him, it would only embarrass him more. So she stays quiet, and lets him come to her.
His thumb dips beneath the leg hole of her underwear, “Can I?”
She swallows visibly, now for some reason it’s her being the nervous one. Possibly because the first time, it was her doing something for him. And now, it is very much the feeling of being studied, of being watched to see what made her tick. A feeling that has her desperate for some kind of fulfilment. Anything.
She lifts her hips to help him slide her underwear down her legs, her cheeks warming at being so utterly exposed to him herself for the first time. There is a finality to it that she just can’t quite put into words. A point of no return.
A full body shudder made its way through her when she felt his thumb trail across the spot where her leg met her hip, trailing the line there that led to her sensitive womanhood.
Michael looked as if he was being presented with an equation, she could practically hear the thoughts in his head. But beyond not entirely knowing what to do, it didn't dissuade his curiosity.
She could tell though, that he didn't know what to do.
Michael nearly flinched when she took his hand, encouraging his thumb to touch her bundle nerves hidden between her folds.
She watched him as his thumb cautiously collected the wetness that had begun to come out of her and used it to gently apply pressure to her clit. Breath was hot in her chest as he started slowly.
“Does that feel good?” He asked softly.
As soon as she nodded, confirming how pleasurable it was, Michael's first reaction was to go faster. And so he did. Like he was trying to light a fire.
“No, no, no, it's fine to go slow.”
“Shit, sorry…”
“It’s fine,” she smiled, “just more gentle.”
The panic on his face had been clear. But at her gentle instruction, she saw him relax, taking her words and applying gentle pressure in slower, tighter circles. And it seemed Michael was now fully aware of its intended effect, as his eyes were able to lift up to hers underneath the rim of his glasses to see her breathing had increased, and blood rushing to her cheeks.
It felt incredible to watch his expressions, she thought. Seeing the little thoughts rattling around in his head, to be able to awaken something in him for the first time. But it also felt utterly exposing, and every time his thumb drew circles against her clit, she heard the soft click of her arousal that made the room feel as if she were inside an oven.
Michael’s lips parted, his head moving as if pulled by an invisible string to her core.
“Can I…?” he asked again, but more uncertain this time.
The anticipation gnaws so much at her skin, combined with the way he is taking his time that she has become somewhat impatient, so it’s completely involuntary when she nods her head and somehow manages a whispered ‘yes’.
She doesn't really, really know what's wrong with her. She's had head before. But when he dives between her thighs so quickly and eagerly, his thumbs almost pulling her skin gently to expose as much of her as he can, and swiping his tongue over the centre. From her entrance, all the way to her bundle of nerves.
It has her breath stuck in her chest, instinctively reaching down to run her fingers through his sandy hair. Even the slightest tug on it has a low groan vibrating through her where his mouth moves slowly against her.
“Michael…”
At first he is careful, taking the instruction she'd given him before and applying it to tasting her instead. But his eyes flit up to her when she breathes his name like that, so he redoubles his efforts, gripping the underside of her thighs to tug her towards him in a teasing rhythm.
She didn't really know what to expect, assuming he hadn't done anything like this before. But Michael seems eager to please, as he nudges between her sensitive folds to tease her entrance with his tongue, the sharp shape of his nose butting against her bud with every movement, as little as it is.
With one hand in his hair, her hips move against his face, the glasses perched on his face hanging askew. And all she can see is that his eyes are closed as he tastes her, every now and then he makes a noise between a whine and a moan, as if he didn't want the experience to end.
Dragging his tongue back up to her bud to focus his attention there, Michael experimentally slides one long, slender digit easily inside her, pleased at the breathy sound it seems to elicit from her. Two feelings at once, just as she'd given him before.
“Oh, shit-”
He fights the urge to smirk when he hears that. She's so warm and wet, that it's easy to slide in the second, feeling her walls suck him in as they clamp around his fingers moving in and out of her. It's a feeling he couldn't describe if he tried, and he daren't think of what she'd feel like around his cock, or if she'd let him.
She can feel her stomach muscles tightening, an orgasm bubbling up to the surface when he gains confidence, flicking her swollen clit with his tongue and pistoning two fingers with a pornographically wet smack into her over and over. Brushing that sweet spot inside that he manages to find sometimes, seemingly without realising.
“Michael - fuck - I'm gonna-”
He groans as her fingers tug at his hair, her hips grinding herself against him and chasing that delicious friction as her high barrels through her, sparking pleasure down each notch of her spine until it fizzles out through her limbs.
She can feel Michael grinding himself against the bed, searching for his own, as he maintains his actions, lapping up everything she gives him with determination. When she dares to look down at him, as if he can sense it, his eyes open to watch her expression, the blue of his eyes nearly entirely eclipsed by black.
As if something had been awoken in him that even he couldn't recognise he'd wanted.
With one last swipe of his tongue over her centre, Michael withdraws his fingers, gripping her thigh with them and making the skin there glisten.
Her cheeks feel as if they're on fire when he rights himself to his knees before her, looking down at her with admiration at how she is still essentially half naked. The tightness at the front of his jeans makes it obvious how he felt about what he'd just done.
Engrossed by watching her breasts move as she breathes heavily, the slight shimmer of sweat on her collarbones, Michael raises his hand to his face, using his palm to wipe her slick from his lips and chin.
She breaks the silence with a tired laugh when he pushes his glasses back up his face, one half of the lenses completely fogged up. It prompts him to laugh too.
“Was I okay?”
This time she doesn't hold back her smile at the way he asks it. As if she hadn't just shaken with the force of her high all over his face.
She nods, “More than okay.”
He seems genuinely relieved.
She bites her lip as she looks at him, his cheeks all tinged pink, his mind reeling at what they'd just done.
He doesn't know what to say or do, and she can see it.
“Do you fancy having a girlfriend, Michael?” she asks.
“Uh…I've never had one, not properly anyway.”
“Yes, but would you like one?”
She watches the bob of his Adam's Apple as he swallows heavily, “Y-yeah…”
She pushes herself up to meet him where he's knelt, admiring his features for a moment, before leaning forward to kiss him, encouraging him to kiss her back. It takes a second for him to respond, but when he does, it's needy, teeth and tongues clashing as the musky taste of her is captured on him.
“Tell you what, after your exams, when you can relax, I'll be your proper girlfriend. In every way..”
His breath comes out shuddered against her lips, “what do you mean?..”
She wets her lips as she smirks, “I think you know exactly what I mean, Michael.”
She doesn't think she'll ever get tired of seeing him blushed and bothered.
And when they're both dressed, sharing awkward giggles and nervous kisses, she gives him a look with a cock of her head as he checks his wall-mounted Countdown-themed calendar.
“What you looking for?”
“My last exam is the 15th. There's exactly 12,246 minutes between now and then and all I'm going to be thinking about is whether you'll really be my girlfriend or not.”
She nearly smiles at the fact he does the maths so quickly. 8 days, 12 hours and 6 minutes until his last exam. And even though she's made it clear she wants him, he's still unsure.
She meets his gaze, unable to hide the grin off her face, “Better get studying then. You've only got 12,245 minutes left until you've got me.”
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"Ye who enter here abandon all hope"
It's Halloween and all the evil spirits are roaming the Earth looking for thrills. Beware of the handsome strangers. And remember. The next time you will be seeing a demon, you might just be looking in the mirror.
“Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”
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Chapter 7:
Masterlist.
<Chapter 6 | Chapter 8>
A/N: I'm sorry it took so long to update, I just convinced myself that the writing is bad so I change every detail from time to time :) anyway here it is.
Tomorrow I will upload extra scenes that I did not write in the chapters but that I liked. I hope you enjoy.
Warnings: This chapter is a bit long. It contains the death of a close family member, scenes in a graveyard, and death, but nothing highly descriptive.
The tombstones that surrounded Gianna became more and more numerous as she advanced through the intricate stone path. The night before she had finally arrived in New York, staying at the first nearby hotel she could find. She really didn't want to see any of her family members without first visiting her brother's grave, a way of falling into the reality that he would no longer be waiting for her in her family home when she arrived. there. Thomas was in charge of buying her a ticket to the United States as soon as she found out when Campbell's work would take place, with the promise that when she arrived she would have more space than in the small house he had bought for her; because Arrow House was just days away from finishing its construction.
When Gianna finally visualized the place Michael described her brother's burial place, she walked right up to it.
Santino "Sonny" Corleone. Beloved father, husband, son and brother.
White roses were planted around her grave in symmetrical rows and several different types of flowers seemed to have been left there not long ago. Gianna bent down to place the bouquet of blue flowers (her brother's favorite color when they were children) along with the other bouquets and when she got up she took a few steps back smoothing her new black dress, the one she had bought. especially for this visit. She didn't have any all-black ensemble; She used to believe that having an outfit like this would call misfortune, of course it turned out to be a mistake.
She took a look at the other graves that surrounded her brother's and approached them, noticing that the vast majority no longer had flowers left and the dirt covered the tombstones in such a way that even the names were unrecognizable. It made her wonder who would leave her brother flowers the day everyone who knew and loved him was gone, who would remember her name, his stupid jokes and explosive temper.
It was painful to think that not even her son would remember him and that all he would know about him would only be what she and her mother told him, knowing him through other people's memories that would eventually come to their end.
Gianna heard footsteps behind her and surreptitiously reached into her small bag, where she kept her revolver. She turned around preparing for the worst, when she saw her brother standing just a few steps from her, both hands in her pockets, dressed in a black suit and a cold stare. That was the new Michael.
They both took steps towards each other at the same time and met halfway. Gianna's arms wrapped around her brother's torso as she rested her head on his chest, one hand of his cradling the back of her head, his fingers twining through her raven hair and the other hand gently stroking her back.
It is there where Gianna, finally and after so many months, she felt at home. Being in her brother's arms, while she listened to her heartbeat, was one of the few things she always knew she would miss. The fact that she was the youngest of all his siblings caused them to adopt a softer and more loving personality towards her; being her a great weakness that all the brothers shared.
As Gianna broke from her embrace, her brother's hands cupped her face, her thumbs wiping away the tears that had leaked from her green eyes. They both walked and stood together in front of the recent grave. Gianna's arm was entwined with Michael's and his head was resting on his shoulder as they both stared sadly at the carved name of her older brother.
The birds that sang happily in the surrounding trees seemed to mock the sad situation in which the Corleone brothers found themselves. At that moment, no words were shared between them, there was nothing that could be said that the other had not thought of. That was perhaps the most curious thing about the two Corleone brothers, a curiosity that only they themselves knew about; both possessed the same darkness.
Gianna was sweet and gentle with anyone who was the same way with her, bestowing nothing but kindness on anyone who deserved it. But she also loved fiercely, and with love always came loyalty. And there was no one she loved more than her family, her devotion to them exceeding many limits even when she didn't want it to be so. There are many occasions when, even when she was young, had to resort to direct action; taking the weapon that his father had hidden in the house to defend her family from small attacks that were organized against them; all this while the men were at war.
All those times where she killed in self-defense, then put away her father's gun once she was done and let the guards (who were supposed to protect them) take the credit; she wiped it off of her hands and sometimes her face the drops of blood that fell on her; neither of those times did she flinch or worry.
Gianna's hands were stained just like her father's and brothers', with the difference that they did not keep these acts a secret by pretending to be completely different people. But the small detail in this is that this way of being was not something that Gianna planned and certainly not something that she noticed as such. Inconsciously she used to responds to violence and attacks at the same way, acting quickly and whitout even flinching.
She used to forget such actions very easily, silently affirming that his family's protection during these attacks were reason enough to expel any sin, and waking up the following mornings as if nothing had happened.
Michael was as gentle as her, always joking with everyone, being respectful and chivalrous. But that had changed a lot, she could see it clearly. Her brother changed a lot after the death of Sonny and Apolonia, she understood it, but she also knew that his new traits; ambition and selfishness would lead him to nothing but bad decisions. Michael had the same loyalty to his family as always and that was the perfect justification for all the dark thoughts and premeditated actions that grew in him. They were innocent? Not at all, but Gianna knew as soon as she met his eyes, his eyes now empty and cold, that he would ruin himself.
______________________________
Gianna was now sitting in the passenger seat as Michael drove his Bugatti toward the family home. She was with the windows rolled down andher head resting on the door as she enjoyed the soft breeze of the wind on her face.
"How is your husband's business?" Michael asked, his gaze still straight ahead.
"He took over all of Sabini's brokers, legalized his business, and has connections to Churchill," Gianna replied in a monotone as she stuck her hand out the window and pretended to make wave shapes, her eyes still closed.
The connection to Churchill and his business was something of great interest to Michael; taking into account that now he had replaced his father's place in the family and the connections that his brother-in-law had were of high importance in future businesses that they planned to carry out "And married life?" I ask.
"Well, let's just say monogamy isn't part of it" she turned her head towards her brother and raised an eyebrow, they both laughed at that. None of them were really loyal to their mates, not even Michael, but how could he? Kay was not Apollonia…
"Your designs?" Michael asked in an attempt to steer the conversation and thus his thoughts in another direction. Gianna was the one who always sewed her outfits when they were younger; He used to leave the battered clothes on a kitchen chair while he attended to other business, and when he returned he would find his outfit in perfect condition and with a note from her telling him how much the thread had increased that week. When they grew up, there were no longer arrangements, but creations, since Gianna designed all the suits for the men in her family; being her father and hers Michael who wore them most proudly.
Gianna sighed, resting her head on the seat and her gaze was lost in the other cars that passed around her "I put it on hold at least for a while" she answered in a low voice. She really hadn't used one bit of her imagination since her brother died. Since his death, all she had done with herself was pace around her little house while she tried to figure out who had arranged her brother's death, all with the few crumbs Michael had given her over the phone. She certainly would never have imagined that Carlo was an accomplice, or well, that was at least what Michael believed.
Carlo was practically disliked by the entire Corleone family, except for Connie. Although Gianna's family was always involved in violent affairs, they all grew up seeing how her parents' relationship was moderately healthy; Carmela was a very submissive woman (a characteristic according to the time) who accepted everything her husband said and never meddled in matters that were not her concern, but despite that, her husband never hit her or spoke wrongly.
Vito Corleone raised all of his children with the teaching that there was nothing more important and of greater value than family; all members of it deserved due respect. That is why Gianna could not understand how her sister allowed herself to be beaten and deceived by who was supposed to love and respect her, after all that was what they swore in the eyes of God and both families.
Now, Gianna knew that her prejudices towards Connie and Carlo's relationship were a complete irony when she looked at what her relationship with Thomas was like; but the difference lay in that from the beginning they had agreed that their relationship was a mere agreement that is supposed to benefit both parties, exclusivity would not be part of their marriage.
"We're going to a charity dinner in a few weeks and Kay wants you to do some alterations to her dress" Michael commented as he parked the car outside the family residence.
"Do you think that's fair?" Gianna asked turning around
completely towards him.
"What thing?" her brother asked.
"Kay…you don't love her" she answered softly.
Michael sighed and as Thomas always does with these types of conversations that surely end in some kind of mental release, he took a cigarette. He looked at his sister silently asking her permission to light it, an ancient custom. Gianna nodded and he turned it on as she spoke.
"You don't love the man you married either, Gianna, but you're not a child anymore and you have to stop living in your fantasy life and understand that there are certain things you can't help. Maybe we won't be highborn, sons of some important politician, but we have obligations to fulfill and we must carry them out; what we do are mere commercial agreements"
"At the expense of others? Hurting people who don't deserve it? Kay is a very good women Michael"
"Tell me what you're trying to get at because you know me too well to believe that i could hurt her" she said in an exasperating tone. For both brothers there was never an difficulty when it came to communication; even the looks were enough to understand each other, but Michael knew that the new lifestyle of both of them would surely bring difficulties in many situations and this was one of them. He really did not know where her sister wanted to go and did not have the time or patience for her typical words of calm and love, he was no longer the man who listened to her ramble for hours, happily answering all her questions.
"She will not accept the lifestyle or the man you will become once our father dies. What you need is someone like our mother, who will accompany you in this life without complaining when you are late due to your business and who accepted each of your decisions without complaining about them, someone truly loyal" he replied while moving his hands in an attempt to accentuate his words.
Michael's cigarette, which was lying between his fingers on the ashtray in his car, was going out little by little, because with those words her sister had taken all his attention.
"I need someone to take care of the family business once I die, I trust Kay and I know she will be a good mother to that someone" Michael replied in a dangerously low voice as he forced himself to remain calm.
Gianna laughed, biting her lip between her teeth as she shook her head "You've never been so stubborn, brother."
He gave her the same look of annoyance mixed with amusement "And you've never been so nosy, don't you dare judge my decisions"
At those words, the entire temper of her younger sister transformed. As if a button had been pressed, the young woman stood straighter and tilted her head to one side of her. Gianna, like her mother, enjoyed a certain respect within the family; Her siblings didn't tease her or insulted her like the Shelby siblings did with Ada.
Gianna took on many responsibilities from a very young age and was involved in making many important decisions within her family; who he was and what he did wouldn't be lost to his brother's outbursts. "Don't let your new position cloud your judgment Michael. I'm the only person looking out for you and not my own interests and as if that wasn't enough; the only person who will never betray you" the Bugatti suddenly felt smaller, both brothers giving each other hateful looks for the first time in their lives "My patience has a limit, don't test it" she finished with a grim voice before get off the car.
All Michael did was watch her walk away as he lit another cigarette.
Taglist:
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#michael corleone#peaky blinder fanfic#thomas shelby x oc#original female character#corleone family#sonny corleone
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Chapters: 4/6
Fandom: Halloween (Movies 1978-2002)
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Michael Myers/Original female character
Characters: Michael Myers, Original Female Character
Additional Tags: Kidnapping, Possessive Michael Myers, Soft Michael Myers, Protective Michael Myers, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Not Beta Read, Past Child Abuse
Summary:
Michael Myers x OC Delilah Wheeler story with one-shots in between. Sorry first fic on here I'll be working on writing better summaries.
#Michael Myers#Michael Myers x OC#The Shape#The Shape x OC#Michael Myers x Original Female Character
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Begging For Thread (softdark!Azazeal x ofc)
Author's Note: A little one-shot I wrote a while ago featuring Azazeal and an oc character. I feel like he's softdark here because he is possessive and manipulative, but this is how he shows his love after centuries of pain and hurt. He is also still recovering from the loss of Cassie and does not wish for the same to happen to Alyssa.
I don't expect much traction with this little one-shot, but Azazeal is one of my favourite characters and I'm in a major Fassbender mood currently. If you read this then I hope you enjoy!!
Warning(s): coercion, smut.
---
“Let’s face the truth, you cannot be trusted.” The tears steadily dripped down her face as she stared at the sunset. His hot breath hit her cheek as he spoke his cold words. A hand was tightly grasping her shoulder to further accentuate the point: she would not be escaping again. “Appreciate this whilst you can; you won’t be seeing the sky for a long time.” The pad of his thumb slowly wiped away the wet trails on her cheeks before gripping her hand in his hold. “Come. There is no point in upsetting yourself further. It isn’t good for you… either of you.” Her free hand immediately went to her stomach; she was dreading the moment that she’d feel the child move.
That’s when it would be real.
That’s when she could no longer pretend that she had not lost her war with Azazeal.
“I never asked for this.”
“I am aware, but you still followed the path that had been outlined for you. You couldn’t have beaten me even if you had had an army behind you. This was your destiny.” His fingers curled around hers and he squeezed in warning. “I won’t ask you again.” Alyssa gave one last glance to the beautiful sky before allowing him to walk her back into her prison. The church was beautiful to everyone but her. She knew what horrors lay inside; she knew what monsters inhabited it.
“Please don’t lock me in there again…” She tried to drag her feet to slow Azazeal’s pace but merely found herself being tugged along roughly. “I don’t want to be left in there!” Alyssa began to panic and scratched at the hand that gripped hers.
“Alys, calm yourself.” He quickly backed her against one of the hard walls and stared into her eyes. “I cannot trust you any longer. I’ve given you chance after chance, but now that you’re with child everything has changed. I shall not risk your life or the child’s. I was too kind to Cassie and now Malachi has no mother. That mistake shall not be repeated with you.”
“I do not want this child. You can keep it if you wish, but I will have nothing to do with it.” His shark-like grin spread across his face. He truly looked like a predator at that moment.
“It’s nice that you think you have a choice in the matter. You will be a mother, and a good one at that. I know that deep down a part of you wants this child; you want to give it a better childhood than what you had.”
“You know nothing.” Azazeal wanted to roll his eyes but stopped himself so as to not antagonise her further; she was allowing herself to get much too stressed over matters that deep down she knew she had no choice in.
“Will you walk back to our room or do I need to carry you like a new bride over the threshold?” She choked back a sob and walked ahead of the smirking man. Her feet froze just outside the frame of the door and she stared at the lock that was on the outside. The sound of the key being turned echoed in her mind each time she was isolated in there. A small pressure at her back urged her to keep going forward, but she couldn’t.
“No.” He gave no reply and merely gripped the back of her neck whilst forcefully pushing her onward. Alyssa let out a squeak as she stumbled forward. Azazeal shut the door behind him and leant against it to look at the quaking woman in front of him.
“You should really start just saying yes. It would make things a lot easier, Alys.”
“My name is Alyssa!”
“Malachi calls you Alys and you don’t seem to have a problem with that.”
“I didn’t used to because I felt that we were good enough friends, but then he just handed me over to you and didn’t look back.”
“That’s not true and you know it. Malachi doesn’t care about many people, but he cares for you. He didn’t even know of the prophecy until I recognised you to be the one that I was supposed to find. He didn’t wish to betray your trust; why do you think he always tries to appeal to my better nature when you go against my rules? Why do you think he saves you from punishment time and time again?”
“Guilt. Nothing more than that.”
“If he didn’t care for you then why would he feel guilt?” Azazeal ignored her stumbling backwards as he moved closer to her and carried on mirroring her movements. “You were born to be mine-”
“Like Cassie?”
“You were both born to be mine; she was to give birth to my first-born and you were to create my second. Unfortunately I didn’t protect her as much as I should have and so now my focus is on ensuring that you don’t copy her actions.” Alyssa let out a gasp as her legs met a barrier and fell backwards onto the bouncy mattress of his bed. “You will continue being Malachi’s friend and confidante. He needs you just as much as I. Then you shall soon be a mother to this child that grows within you. He may not show it, but I know that Malachi is looking forward to having a sibling.”
“I don’t care about any of that anymore! He allows you to use me and lock me away in this room. He is no friend of mine… not anymore.” Azazeal’s smiling face changed immediately. His cold glare pierced through Alys before he sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
“Sleep. You look like you need it.” Alyssa spent a few moments calming herself before she heard the familiar click ring throughout the room.
“No… No!” Her fists banged against the hard wood and she desperately pulled at the door handle. ���Please! Don’t lock me in here again…” Azazeal stood on the other side of the door and swallowed down the part of him that wanted to comfort her. She shouldn’t have tried to run again, he told himself. “Please… No…” He heard her slump to the floor and give a final few half-hearted hits to the door. Silly girl. Once he was satisfied that she was alright and had given up her futile attempts to open the door, he walked away before he heard her shed more tears because of him.
Alyssa crawled over to the bed and cocooned herself inside the red silk sheets. “It’s your own fault. Stupid, stupid, stupid!” She clawed at her hair and cried out. “You didn’t stand a chance.” She unconsciously burrowed into the side of the bed that smelt most like Azazeal. It soothed her strangely enough; it made her feel less alone. After a few more minutes of self-pity filled sobs all went quiet. She sniffled a little before sitting up and staring at the cot that was stored in the corner of the room. It was Malachi’s and soon it would be her baby sleeping in there. More tears ran down her cheeks as she scanned her prison cell - nothing ever changed, but what else could she do? Alyssa lay back down and looked at the ceiling that blocked her from seeing the sky that had become so important to her. Seeing the sky gave her that sense of freedom; she could watch the birds fly without a care and feel the warmth of the sun’s rays on her skin. She remembered back to her latest escape attempt and how it felt to feel the summer breeze on her cheeks. It was good for the short time it lasted… before Malachi once again betrayed her.
No one was around. Alyssa quietly shut the bedroom door and stood for a few moments until she was completely sure that no one was guarding the small corridor that led to Azazeal’s chambers. With a satisfied smile she quickly ran to the back of the church where she knew there was a door; they’d more than likely be near the altar at the front so this was her best shot. The door opened with a loud creak causing Alys to freeze in fear. After a few moments of continuous silence she slipped through the small gap as swiftly as she could and quietly shut the door behind her. Her eyes darted around the church grounds before she began to run.
“Alys!” Malachi’s voice sounded from behind her which made her pick up her speed. Tears of frustration began to blind her as she knew that she wouldn’t be able to outrun him in her current state. She was exhausted from not sleeping much for the past couple of weeks since she found out about the child growing within her. The burn began in her legs before she even managed to get more than 10 feet away from the church; an arm wrapped around her from behind and dragged her down onto the grass. Malachi acted as a cushion as he lay beneath her and held her struggling form to his front. “Stop. Alyssa you need to calm down.” He manoeuvred her under him so that he could grip her flailing arms and press them down onto the ground. His curls tickled her face as he pressed his forehead against her own.
“Let me go, Chi. Please!”
“You know I can’t do that, Alys.” She began to furiously shake her head and dig her heels into the ground as she found him unmoveable.
“I hate you. I hate all of you!”
“I know, I know.” He carefully placed a kiss on her cheek before helping her up. “Look, we can just go back inside now and Dad needn’t know-” At that moment a heavy hand clamped down on her shoulder making her freeze in fear.
“Is that so, Malachi?” Azazeal looked down at the shivering girl that avoided his angry gaze. He refused to have her repeat Cassie’s mistakes. She may think he that he was being cruel and horrid, but he was only protecting her from those that would harm her. Just like Malachi, Ella wanted this child also. “Come.” The hand steered her back into her prison as Malachi walked silently beside her.
“Why couldn’t you have just let me go?”
“Alyssa?” The girl ignored Azazeal as he returned to the room that he shared with her. “Do not disregard me.” He noted how she was clinging onto the pillow that he slept on and smiled. Carefully he moved onto the bed and wrapped an arm around her. Her immediate reaction was to move away until he placed his hand onto her head and whispered a short spell that made her stay where she was. Once again tears of frustration slipped down her face as Alyssa found she could do nothing other than move her head and arms.
“Alys?” Malachi made his way around the other side of the bed and knelt in front of her form. “I’m sorry, Alys.”
“You need not apologise; this has always been her destiny.” Azazeal spoke when it was clear that the girl wasn’t going to.
“She was my friend before all of this... one of the only people that I could trust and now she despises my very being.” At this her hand groggily moved towards him. Alyssa didn’t hate Malachi. She couldn’t hate him, even when he pulled the stupidest stunts with his powers she could never find it in herself to be angry. “Alys?” She didn’t speak but allowed him to curl his fingers with hers. She gave a slight squeeze before letting go.
“You need to leave now, Malachi.” The jealousy in Azazeal’s tone was evident. However, his son didn’t even flinch and leant closer to his confidante.
“I shall come to you later.” In a bold move he pressed his lips to hers and was surprised when she gently pressed her fingers to his cheek. They moved their lips against each other in sync before Alyssa moved backwards and gave him a small smile. Malachi returned it with a cheeky grin; they hadn’t done that in a while. He missed that; he missed her old self. “I’ll be back.” Alys touched her lips and barely registered Azazeal’s arm tightening around her waist or the bedroom door being shut gently.
“I didn’t realise the pair of you were so close.”
“It was a mutual arrangement. It’s been a long time since we’ve done anything.”
“You may carry on if you wish, but you shall not deny me or leave this child in return. It’s a fair trade.” Azazeal turned her onto her back and spread her limp legs to lie between them. “You shall have the comfort of Malachi and I shall have the queen that I have longed for for centuries. We could be the family that this child deserves.” One of his hands carefully trailed over her belly; it was early days, but within a couple of months the child would be born.
“I will not bargain with you; you’ve already taken my freedom and my power, I will not give you anything else.” She moved her hands to hold the bottom of her dress as he tried to slide it upwards. She knew that it wouldn’t make him stop, but it helped her believe that she was fighting still and hadn’t given up yet.
“I don’t have to give you a choice, but I am. I could be so much crueller to you.” Azazeal gently took her wrists and put them above her head, he gave a warning squeeze for her to stay still before returning back to lifting her dress to her waist and pulling down the small pair of knickers that he had given her to wear.
“What you are doing now is cruel.”
“It is not. This is one of the most natural things in the world.” He leant down and softly kissed her lips before smiling. “You are not as repulsed by me as you would like to think. You like my touch; you crave my attention.” A deep sigh left his mouth as he gently pushed inside of the girl beneath him. “You smother yourself with the sheets of this bed when I am gone because you want me near you. You wear my shirts when I am not around because you desire to smell my scent. You are just too stubborn to realise it.”
“I don’t want you…” Alyssa breathed out whilst clutching at the silk beneath her to stop from crying out.
“You lust after me just as much as you lust after Malachi. We could have the perfect arrangement if you would just let yourself feel your true emotions.” His hand went back to her face as he removed his earlier spell; immediately her legs locked around his waist. “Stop pretending. Pretending is what got Cassie killed; I will not have you meet the same fate.”
“So… you keep… saying.” Alyssa panted despite her earlier protests and arched her back as the pleasure rippled through her body. Azazeal groaned and slightly turned his head towards the door as he felt a lingering presence.
“Malachi; either leave or enter.”
“What?” Alys asked confused until the door creaked open and the boy in question walked back into the room. She immediately started to push at her lover’s chest and attempted to squirm out of his grasp as she locked eyes with her friend. “Stop-”
“Shhh, it’s alright.” Azazeal distracted his mate by moving his hand between their bodies and rubbing that warm nub until she gripped his shoulders in an effort to stop her body from convulsing. Malachi sat on the edge of the mattress and watched his little paramour writhe against the bed. “What do you want, Malachi?” Azazeal forced out before dipping his head down to bite Alyssa’s neck.
“I merely wondered if you could satisfy her as much as I have in the past.” He watched with a small smile as her eyes captured his; he was always enthralled by the sight of her in bodily bliss. She never made much noise, which wasn’t entirely a bad thing, but her eyes would cloud over and her pupils would expand until there was barely any of that beautiful green colour left.
Azazeal watched her look at his son and grunted before picking up speed. Her gaze strayed back to his as her mouth opened into an ‘O’ shape; he gave a smug smirk down at her and carried on at the fast, rough pace that she seemed to want at the moment. His hand moved from between their bodies and gripped at the headboard of the bed to gain more control over his deep thrusts. He reached further inside her than ever and began to move around until he hit that sweet spot that made her claw harder at his shirt. “You are so close I can feel it.” He whispered down at her as she began to tighten around him.
Alyssa couldn’t control her body; her hips crashed against Azazeal’s as she felt her climax drawing closer. The fallen angel immediately captured her mouth to smother her small whimpers of pleasure. Her nails clawed at his shirt sleeves furiously as she felt her release overpower her. Her entire body shook, the vibrations causing Azazeal to fall over the edge of bliss and empty himself inside of her still quivering body. He gave a few slow, languid thrusts and groaned into her welcoming mouth. Azazeal gently rolled himself over, keeping Alyssa against his chest and allowed her to move her lips from his. His length kept her feeling full as she rested her head under his chin; gasps escaping her mouth as she tried to catch her breath.
Azazeal recovered much faster than she did but still made no move to remove himself from inside her body. He merely stroked his hand through his mate’s hair and smiled to himself. He felt Malachi’s glare on his head but did not openly acknowledge his son.
What a funny predicament Alyssa found herself in… She was trapped between a possessive fallen angel and his equally dangerous offspring. How on earth was she going to escape this madness?
As though they were hearing her thoughts, both supernatural beings chuckled to themselves. There was no escaping them.
---
‘Stooped down and out, you got me beggin' for thread,
To sew this hole up that you ripped in my head,
Stupidly think you had it under control.
Strapped down to something that you don't understand,
Don't know what you were getting yourself into,
You should have known, secretly I think you knew.
(Secretly I think you knew)’
---Beggin for Thread by BANKS---
#michael fassbender#hex#azazeal#softdark!azazeal#azazeal x oc#michael fassbender smut#original female character#azazeal hex#azazeal fanfiction#hex tv series#malachi hex#hex fanfiction
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