ALY

you and harry had known each other for what felt like forever. your families lived close by, their house just a few streets down from yours, and your parents were friends long before you even met. you’d grown up side by side — playing in the same parks, going to the same schools, sharing the same group of friends. you were always there for the big moments and the small ones, drifting in and out of each other’s lives like two planets caught in the same orbit.

even when things got busy, you’d always find your way back to each other. there was an unspoken understanding between you, a comfort that felt like home. but somewhere beneath the surface, you both knew the friendship was laced with something deeper, something you hadn’t quite named yet.

one night, years ago, everything changed.

it was one of those parties where the music was too loud and the drinks kept coming. you weren’t even supposed to go, but somehow you ended up there, laughing harder than you had in ages, the air thick with summer heat and reckless energy. the more you drank, the more your walls came down, until you found yourself standing beside harry, close enough to feel his breath against your skin.

words became unnecessary. one look, one touch, and suddenly you were both stumbling through the door to his room. clothes fell away like the years you’d spent pretending this was just friendship. naked and tangled up in his bed, everything felt sharper, more intense, like the world had narrowed to just the two of you in that moment. the feelings you’d buried for so long suddenly spilled over, raw and undeniable.

afterwards, there was no going back to the way things were. something had shifted between you, forever. the line between friendship and something more blurred.

it kept happening any time you were drunk, those nights when your head spun a little too fast and the world felt like it was tipping over. but soon, it wasn’t just the alcohol anymore. whenever loneliness crept in, quiet and heavy, it was harry you turned to. the lines blurred until the bed between you wasn’t just for friendship anymore; it became a refuge, a place where silence didn’t feel quite so sharp.

then harry moved to london for work, and the rhythm shifted. it wasn’t just late nights or lonely weekends. now, it was whenever he came home, like clockwork. you’d get a text before he even boarded the flight, simple and quiet: “can i see you?” and you always said yes. it felt like the only thing steady in the swirl of his busy life, a tether pulling you back to something familiar.

when covid hit and the world ground to a halt, harry moved back home for a while. suddenly, you weren’t just sneaking moments here and there, he was your bubble, your constant. you lost yourself in each other, day after day. tangled limbs beneath his sheets, the easy comfort of being close. you’d eat dinner with his family, laugh with them like you belonged there. you’d lie in his bed while he filmed videos, your presence a quiet background to his work.

but then, after a while, something shifted again. it wasn’t just the physical anymore. you both realised there was more to this tangled mess of feelings, that the simple act of being together carried weight you couldn’t ignore. when harry went back to london, you had the talk — the one where you decided it was best to end things, to close the door on what you had before it got any more complicated.

and so that was it. the silence between you filled with everything you didn’t say, and the space where he used to be still feels a little empty.

you’d seen him since, just once, in passing, maybe a year ago. you were with your boyfriend at the time, walking through guernsey’s quiet streets when you spotted him across the way. for a moment, everything froze — that familiar face, the rush of memories, and the sudden awareness of how much had changed.

you ended up having a small, awkward conversation. polite, surface-level stuff. how you’d both been, how lovely the weather was that day. nothing heavy, no lingering glances or unspoken words. just the bare minimum to acknowledge each other’s presence without stirring up anything deeper.

it was a quiet reminder that you couldn’t talk to each other anymore, not like you used to, not like before any of it had happened. the distance between you stretched wider than ever, making you realise that through it all you lost your friend.

but now? now you live in london. you’ve got a new flat, a new job, and you’re single for the first time in a while. you’d been so focused on settling in — learning the commute, figuring out the best coffee near your office — that you hadn’t really thought about harry in a while.

you definitely weren’t expecting to see him on your first night out here. it was meant to be a small celebration, a few drinks with your new work friends to mark your first full week on the job. the kind of night where you’re still half on your best behaviour, trying to make a good impression.

you were laughing at something one of your colleagues had said as you weaved your way through the crowd toward the bar. the music was loud, the air warm with bodies pressed together, the scent of spilled gin and lime clinging to the air. you were halfway to ordering when you looked up —

— and there he was. harry. leaning against the counter like he had all the time in the world, that familiar tilt to his head, eyes catching on yours like no time had passed at all.

‘holy shit,’ he said, stepping back slightly, like the sight of you had knocked the air from his chest.

‘hi,’ you said softly, almost instinctively, the word slipping out before you could think.

you stared at each other for a moment, the noise of the bar blurring into nothing. it’s not like you didn’t expect to see him eventually — you lived in the same city now, after all — and maybe, in some quiet corner of your mind, you’d thought you’d reach out at some point. but you thought you had more time.

‘wha… what are you doing here?’ he asked, his voice softer than you remembered, like he was afraid speaking too loudly might break whatever strange spell hung between you.

‘i got a new job here,’ you said. ‘i live here now.’

his face shifted, shock maybe, something unreadable just beneath it, maybe even a flicker of something you weren’t ready to name. you were about to say more, maybe ask him how he’d been, maybe fall back into that easy rhythm you used to have, but then your co-worker appeared, slipping a drink into your hand and tugging you back toward your group with a laugh.

you gave harry a small wave, and he returned it, though neither of you smiled. you let yourself be pulled away, glancing back once before the crowd swallowed him from view.

you didn’t see him again that night.

a few weeks had passed. the chaos of moving had smoothed into a kind of quiet routine — you knew the exact moment in your commute when the train lost signal, the barista at your regular coffee shop remembered your order without asking, and your new job no longer felt like you were just visiting someone else’s life.

but harry was still there, lodged in the back of your mind like a song you couldn’t quite shake. you’d catch yourself thinking about that night at the bar, the way he’d looked at you, like he was trying to piece together who you’d become.

you almost felt guilty about not reaching out before the move. you could have sent a message, just a simple “hey, i’m moving to london”, maybe asked to grab a drink. but you didn’t. maybe you were afraid of what it would mean, or maybe you thought it would be easier to slip quietly into your new life without stirring up the past.

and then, one evening, as you were curled up on the sofa scrolling through your phone, it buzzed.

harry

hey

you stared at your phone for a moment, your thumb hovering just above the screen. it felt heavier than it should. it was just a word, but it carried years of history, of everything unsaid. you weren’t sure if you were scared of him, or of what this could reopen.

you sat there for another second, the silence in your flat stretching long and taut, before finally typing out a reply and pressing send.

you

hi

harry

it was good seeing you, i’ve missed you.

you

i’ve missed you too

sorry i didn’t tell you i was moving here

harry

don’t worry, you don’t owe me anything

you smiled at that, soft and warm, the kind of smile you didn’t even realise had formed until you felt it tugging at your lips. it was small, private, meant only for you and the glow of your phone screen. and then he started typing again.

harry

can i see you? like properly see you?

you

sure, when?

harry

tomorrow? i can come to yours? if that’s okay

you stopped for a minute, almost stunned, the weight of the moment pressing against your chest. there was a flicker of fear, of seeing him again, of what it might bring up, of how easily the past could slip back into the present.

but then you shook it off, almost scolding yourself. he’s harry. your harry. the boy who’d always been there, who knew you better than most. no matter what had happened, no matter how much had changed, a part of you still trusted that.

you

sounds perfect :)

you had a few minutes before harry was due to arrive, and those minutes felt impossibly long. you moved around your flat in small, distracted circles, straightening cushions that didn’t need straightening, wiping down the already-clean counter, reapplying your lipstick only to blot it away again. anything to keep your hands busy while your mind hummed with anticipation.

when the doorbell finally rang, it was like your heart skipped a beat. you took one last glance in the mirror, smoothing your hair, telling yourself to breathe.

then you opened the door.

harry was standing there, his eyes wide like he’d been holding his breath since you last saw him. his hair was messy, a little windswept, and in his hand was a small bunch of flowers, slightly crumpled from the journey, but still beautiful.

‘hey,’ he said, his voice soft but sure. ‘these are for you, happy housewarming… or flat warming,’ he added with a small, awkward laugh. he smiled, that same familiar curve of his lips that made something in your chest tighten.

you took the flowers from him, bringing them to your nose, breathing in the faint, sweet scent. ‘thank you, they’re gorgeous,’ you said, meaning it.

‘sorry they’re a little messed, i biked here,’ he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

you let out a small laugh, the sound easing some of the tension between you. ‘they’re perfect,’ you said, and you meant that, too.

you stepped toward the kitchen, gesturing for him to follow. his footsteps trailed behind you, close but careful, like he wasn’t sure how much space to take up here. you opened a cabinet, pulling out a vase, filling it with water before setting the flowers inside, watching them spread out naturally, like they belonged.

‘how’s it been? y’know, living in london,’ he asked softly, leaning against the counter like he’d been here a hundred times before.

‘i get why you love it so much,’ you said, glancing at him with a small smile.

‘yeah, it’s pretty great,’ he replied, the corners of his mouth lifting.

there was a pause then, not awkward, but the kind of silence that settles in when two people are just… comfortable.

‘so… my mum told me you split up with your boyfriend,’ he said, almost too casually.

you let out a small laugh. ‘yeah, i did.’

‘’cause you were moving?’ he asked.

‘no, something else,’ you said simply.

‘oh,’ he murmured, eyes flicking down for a moment.

‘how about you?’ you asked. ‘are you seeing anyone?’

he laughed softly, shaking his head. ‘no.’

you hummed, the sound quiet, almost lost in the room.

‘i know i’ve said it already, but i’ve really missed you,’ he said then, his voice dipping lower, like it wasn’t meant for anyone else to hear.

‘harry…’ you began, unsure where he was going with this.

‘seriously,’ he continued, his gaze fixed on you. ‘every time i go home i feel like i’m just… waiting to see you. i hate how things ended.’

‘but they didn’t end badly,’ you reminded him gently.

‘i know,’ he said quickly. ‘i just… i hate that it ended. hate that we lost touch.’

you met his eyes, something in your chest pulling tight. ‘i know,’ you said quietly. ‘me too.’

he pulled you into a hug, and for a moment, the world seemed to still. his arms wrapped around you in that way only he did, secure but gentle, like he was holding something precious. you sank into it without thinking, into him, into the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something that was just… him. it was disarming, how quickly it felt like home.

when he pulled back slightly, his hands lingered at your sides, his eyes searching yours. there was a pause, a heartbeat where neither of you moved, and then he kissed you. soft, certain, achingly familiar.

the second your lips met, it was like your lungs remembered how to work. you breathed him in, felt the rush of relief you didn’t know you’d been holding back, like something that had been missing had finally, quietly, fallen back into place.

your fingers slid into the back of his hair, gripping gently as if trying to pull him impossibly closer. his hands found your waist, warm and steady, holding you like you were the only thing that mattered.

you were pressed against your kitchen counter, the cool surface a sharp contrast to the heat building between you. you were completely tangled in him, every part of you reached for his touch, every breath syncing with his. the world outside faded until all that remained was the quiet rhythm of your heartbeats, and the soft press of his lips against yours.

his lips trailed down to your neck, soft and deliberate, kissing and sucking lightly. his hands stayed firm on your waist, keeping you pressed against him, grounding you in the moment.

your own hands threaded into his hair and wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer, leaning into every brush of his lips and every press of his body against yours. small, involuntary hums escaped your throat with each touch, each kiss along your neck and collarbone sending shivers through you. the world outside your flat didn’t exist anymore; it was just him, just you, and the quiet intensity of being this close again.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes soft, almost hesitant.

‘sorry, i… i didn’t come here for this,’ he said, voice low and unsure.

‘harry…’ you murmured, letting the softness in his eyes reach you.

‘i’ll leave, if you want me to,’ he added, like he was trying to give you the choice, but his hands still lingered at your waist.

without a word, you grabbed his hand, pulling him back into you. your lips met his again, urgent and familiar.

‘stay,’ you whispered, barely audible.

he responded immediately, kissing you again — stronger this time, deeper, as if trying to erase the weeks and months of absence in a single motion.

you let yourself be guided away from the counter, your hands in his hair, his hands at your back, moving toward the bedroom without ever breaking the kiss. the air between you was thick with longing, with everything you’d both been holding back, until nothing else existed except the pull of each other.

the bedroom door swung open, and you both tumbled backward onto the bed, the soft mattress absorbing your weight. harry hovered above you, his chest close to yours, eyes locked on yours with that same intensity that always left your breath caught.

his hands moved instinctively—one sliding down to rest firmly on your ass, the other gripping your waist with a mix of tenderness and urgency. you could feel the heat radiating from him, every movement deliberate, as if he didn’t want to miss a single moment. your fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer, matching the rhythm of his touch, the world outside the bedroom fading entirely.

his hand slid between your thighs, fingers teasing lightly through the thin fabric of your leggings. a shiver ran through you, and your hips arched instinctively, pressing closer, desperate to feel him more.

he paused for a moment, his eyes flicking up to yours, searching, asking without words. then he moved, hands sliding to your waistband, pulling your leggings and thong down with careful, deliberate motions. the air against your skin was electric, and every brush of his fingers left you wanting, every small movement building the tension between you.

he stared for a long moment, drinking you in, his gaze slow and deliberate. then, his fingers traced along your thighs, brushing lightly, teasing over where you needed him most, careful, precise, almost worshipful.

you let out a soft hum, fingers tangling in his hair, pushing him lightly down your body. he leaned in, pressing warm, lingering kisses along your thighs and hips, soft and steady, his lips leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

and then, slow and precise, he pushed two fingers inside you, carefully moving in a rhythm that sent shocks through your body. your hips moved to his touch, arching towards him. he curled them slightly, in that perfect spot he knew drove you crazy. you let out soft moans, your fingers still curled in his hair.

his lips left soft, subtle marks in your thigh, like a secret for just you and him. his mouth slowly found your clit, licking and sucking like a man starved, matching the perfect rhythm of his fingers.

every touch, every movement, felt so familiar, yet so new at the same time. he seemed at home between your thighs, like all these years apart he had just been waiting to be here again, completely wrecking you as he had done so many times before.

you could feel it, the inevitable pleasure, rising in your core. your thighs moved up, closing around his head as he dragged you closer and closer to the edge.

you’re legs were trembling, your moans louder, your breath shakier, your body edging closer and closer to release. harry could tell, he always knew, but he didn’t let up, his movements became more relentless, his focus deepening, his mouth sucking harder, his fingers moving faster, his eyes looking up at yours with such innocence, but he was anything but innocent.

you finally finished, spilling out over his fingers, your body shaking, your hips bucking into his touch, your lips spilling out his name over and over. he slowly pulled his fingers out, leaving a soft kiss inside your thighs before licking up every bit of you, his tongue sliding over his fingers to catch every last drop.

he pressed a soft kiss to your stomach, his hands moving to rest on your waist, drawing you closer. when his lips found yours again, it was slow and deliberate, lingering with a warmth that made your heart race. your fingers traced the line of his shoulders as you tugged at his shirt, peeling it off with ease.

the closeness between you was electric. every brush of skin, every gentle shift of weight, made your pulse quicken. you could feel the warmth of him near you, the quiet strength in his presence, and it sent shivers down your spine.

he leaned in again, lips meeting yours with a patience that left you breathless, as if the world had melted away and nothing existed except the two of you. you wrapped your arms around him, pressing closer, letting the shared warmth and tension build. every glance, every touch, spoke more than words ever could — an unspoken connection that left you dizzy with longing and the quiet joy of being fully seen.

you could feel him through his shorts, hard and heavy, twitching with every touch of his hips to yours. your fingers moved to the strings, pulling at them just enough to slip your hand inside, your fingers brushing at his cock. he hitched slightly, gasping at the contact.

‘needy?’ he said, a grin forming across his face.

you nodded, your hands stroking him slowly. he pulled your hand away, pulling down his shorts and boxers, tossing them aside. his cock slapped against his stomach, already leaking. he wrapped his hand around it, stroking it once or twice before lining himself up.

your breath hitched as he pushed in, the stretch so familiar but so painful, the pressure overwhelming.

he started a pace, slow at first, like he was still drinking you in, embracing the moment you’d both become so unfamiliar with. his lips let out slow, gutteral moans with each thrust, soon increasing his pace, his hips slamming faster and harder.

your head rolled back, a loud moan escaping your lips as you adjusted to him as he filled every inch of you so perfectly. you were searching for anything to hold on to, your hands eventually settling on his shoulders, your nails scratching deep red marks in his skin, but he didn’t seem to care — it only encouraged him, only pushed him further.

‘i’ve missed how good you feel’ he murmured, his voice low. ‘missed how tight you feel around my cock’

he was driving you insane, the feeling of his cock hitting your every nerve, the way his eyes looked at you as if you were the most perfect thing in the world, the way his hands felt on your waist — so gentle, like you were made of porcelain, but his hips spoke another story, rough and hungry.

he moved with that steady rhythm, like he had all the time in the world, each thrust careful and steady, but you were trembling beneath him, your legs shaky again, your heart racing, that feeling coiling low in your belly like you were about to explode.

you tightened around his cock, pulling him closer to you, his head buried in your neck as his teeth nipped at your skin. ‘do it baby’ he said.

your eyes squeezed shut as your body arched beneath him, his name rolling off your tongue over and over as you spilled over his cock, tensing around him.

you pushed him over the edge, his thrusts becoming sloppier and less coordinated, his cock twitching inside of you. you pulled him into a deep kiss, almost encouraging him to let go.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, his breath warm against your cheek, his voice low and unsteady. ‘you ready, baby?’ the words trembled with a mix of need and tenderness, as though he was offering you everything he had in that single question.

you nodded, your chest tightening with the weight of the moment. before he could drift any farther, you tugged him back down, your lips finding his with desperate certainty. your fingers slipped into his hair, curling tight, holding on as though letting go might make him vanish. he kissed you like he understood, like he was just as afraid of losing you, pouring all the things neither of you could quite say into every movement of his mouth against yours.

after a few more deep, trembling movements, his rhythm faltered, and he buried his face against yours. a rough sound broke from his throat, low and unrestrained, the kind of sound that carried both release and relief. his body shuddered as he clung to you, every breath heavy and uneven, as though the intensity of the moment had stolen the ground out from beneath him.

he kissed you through it, lips pressing hard against yours, desperate and unsteady, like he needed the closeness to anchor himself. the weight of him settled over you, warm and overwhelming, and in that closeness you felt not just his body but all of him — his need, his trust, his unguarded self, offered only to you.

his forehead dropped to yours, both of you sweaty and sticky and breathless. your chests rose and fell in uneven rhythm, his breath hot against your lips. you stayed like that for a moment, bodies still pressed together, skin slick where it met, his hand lingering at your waist as if reluctant to let go.

your pulse was still racing, echoing in your ears, the room heavy with the scent of sweat and sex. only when the pounding in his chest began to slow did he shift, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your damp temple before he eased back.

he slipped out of you carefully, and you felt the loss immediately, a faint ache blooming in its place. with a quiet exhale he dropped onto the bed beside you, arm brushing yours, both of you staring up at the ceiling, wrapped in the silence that only came after being completely undone together.

you stayed silent, the only sound in the room your uneven breaths. he pulled you into his chest, warm and solid, and you could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under your cheek. ‘god, when did you get so good at this?’ you said, your voice rough with laughter.

he gasped dramatically, hand flying to his chest as if you’d wounded him. ‘when was i ever not good?’ he said, eyes wide in mock offense.

‘you’ve always been amazing,’ you admitted quickly, tracing lazy circles on his skin, ‘i mean, no one else has made me feel this way, but… you just seem to get better every time.’

his lips curved into a soft smile, the kind that made your chest ache. ‘and you just keep getting more perfect,’ he said, pressing a slow, tender kiss to the top of your head, lingering there like he never wanted to move.

‘how long do you plan to stay in london?’ he asked after a moment, his voice quieter, almost careful.

‘forever i guess,’ you murmured, the certainty surprising even you.

‘and you don’t think you’ll miss home?’ he said, his hand smoothing down your back absentmindedly.

‘why would i? i was never home in guernsey unless you were there. i feel more at home with you here than i ever did there without you,’ you said, and the truth of it settled heavy and warm between you.

he smiled then, a big cheesy grin that lit up his whole face. ‘i’ve lived here for years and never once did i feel at home until now.’

you tilted your head up, meeting his eyes before leaning in to press one last deep kiss to his lips, slow and certain. ‘i don’t ever want to miss you again,’ you whispered against his mouth.

‘you won’t,’ he said with a laugh, brushing his thumb across your cheek, ‘we’re both in the same place now, permanently. you won’t get a chance to miss me.’

you laughed with him, the sound spilling out easier than it had in months. ‘good,’ you said, and for the first time, it felt like the word was enough.

you didn’t plan to get pregnant this early into yours and harry’s relationship. two years together wasn’t nothing, but it still felt… new in some ways. and yeah, you already had a daughter — your whole world — but the topic of you and harry having children together had never been more than a fleeting thought.

he loved your little girl like she was his own, never once making her feel like she was anything less than his family. and she adored him, always reaching for his hand, always asking where he was, always lighting up when he came home. but this… this was different.

you can’t pretend your heart didn’t sink when you saw the two faint lines appear on the pregnancy test. it was like the air left the room. your hands shook, your chest tightened, and for a few seconds you just stared, willing the lines to fade, to disappear, to mean something else entirely.

because it wasn’t that you didn’t want another child someday — it was that someday felt far away. you weren’t ready for now. not with the balance you’d just found, the rhythm the three of you had finally settled into.

you thought about how harry would react. maybe he’d be happy. maybe he’d panic. maybe he’d do both in the space of five minutes. you thought about your daughter, how she’d take it, how her little world might feel different. you thought about yourself, your body, the long months ahead, the way your life would shift again.

you sat there in the quiet bathroom, test clutched loosely in your hand, a dozen thoughts crashing into each other at once. you could hear the faint sound of the tv from the living room, harry’s low voice as he read something aloud to her.

and for the first time in a long while, you didn’t know if you were ready to open the door.

you were scared to tell him — scared of how he’d react, scared of what it might mean for the life you’d only just started building together. so you waited. you waited until ava was asleep in her bed, her favourite teddy tucked under her chin. you waited until the toys were put away, the dishes were done, the house was still. you waited until the two of you were in bed, the world outside quiet, so there’d be nothing to distract from what you had to say.

‘harry?’ you said softly. you were lying on his chest, feeling the slow rise and fall of his breathing, his hand lazily stroking your hair. the tv played something low in the background, but neither of you were really watching it.

‘yeah, love?’ he murmured, voice warm, eyes still on the screen.

‘i need to tell you something,’ you said, the words sticking slightly in your throat.

that got his attention. his gaze flicked down to you, brows drawing together, a hint of concern in his expression. ‘what’s up?’

you didn’t answer right away. instead, you shifted, sitting up against the headboard. his eyes followed you, searching your face for clues. you reached over to your bedside table, pulling open the drawer with trembling fingers, and took out the small white stick you’d tucked there hours ago.

you didn’t speak as you handed it to him.

he looked down at it, his eyes scanning the small window, lingering on the two faint pink lines. for a second, there was no reaction — just silence, his thumb brushing over the plastic as if to make sure it was real. then his gaze lifted back to yours, and you felt your heart pounding in your ears.

‘is this… are you…?’ he asked, his voice low, his expression impossible to read.

you swallowed hard and nodded. ‘i know we didn’t plan for this, and i know it’s so, so soon, and you don’t have to say anything just yet, you can think about it for a while, but—’

he didn’t let you finish. instead, he reached for you, pulling you straight into his arms, holding you tight against his chest.

‘we’re having a baby?’ he said, his voice almost disbelieving but warm.

‘yeah,’ you breathed, your face pressed into his shoulder. ‘we’re having a baby.’

he pulled back just enough to see your face, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks as he kissed you—quick, smiling kisses between each word. ‘this is amazing news. i can’t believe we’re actually having a baby!’ his eyes were bright now, his face lit up with pure excitement.

‘you’re… okay with it?’ you asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

‘of course i am!’ he said without a second’s hesitation.

‘i mean, we just… never really talked about it,’ you said softly.

‘listen,’ he said, his thumb brushing away the tear that had slipped down your cheek. ‘i know ava’s dad wasn’t up for it, but i am. i’m up for all of it. i want this life. with you. with her. with… them.’

you smiled, blinking rapidly to chase away the flood of happy tears threatening to fall. you leaned in and kissed him again, your hands fisting in the fabric of his t-shirt.

‘you’re going to be a dad,’ you said, unable to keep the excitement from your voice.

he smiled, his forehead resting against yours, his hand resting on your stomach. ‘i already am,’ he said.

and for the first time since you saw those two pink lines, the fear in your chest gave way to something bigger — something warm and steady. you weren’t doing this alone. not this time.

you told ava a few weeks later, once you’d had time to settle into the idea yourself. you sat her down on the couch, harry beside you, his hand warm on your knee. she was swinging her legs, clutching her teddy, looking between you both like she knew something was up.

‘we’ve got some news,’ you started gently, smiling at her curious little face. ‘you’re going to be a big sister.’

her mouth dropped open in a perfect little ‘o’ before she squealed, bouncing up and down on the cushions. ‘really? really really?’

‘really really,’ harry confirmed, grinning as she launched herself into his lap.

‘can we have the baby now?’ she asked instantly, eyes wide with genuine impatience.

you laughed, brushing a curl from her forehead. ‘not just yet, sweetheart. the baby’s still growing in mummy’s tummy. it’s going to take a little while.’

she frowned for a second, clearly disappointed, but it didn’t last long. within moments she was rattling off a list of names, some sweet, some completely ridiculous, and a few that were clearly inspired by her favourite tv characters.

‘what about sparkle? or cupcake? or… jellybean! ooh, i know, we should name them dinosaur if it’s a boy.’

‘dinosaur?’ harry laughed, pretending to jot it down in the air. ‘i’ll put that on the list.’

‘no, i get to name the baby,’ she said seriously, pointing at both of you like she was laying down a law. ‘because i’m the big sister and that’s the rule.’

you exchanged an amused glance with harry, neither of you having the heart to argue.

‘we’ll see,’ you said, smiling as she snuggled back into you, already talking about where the baby would sleep, what toys they’d play with, and how she’d teach them everything.

and just like that, it wasn’t just your news anymore—it was hers too.

when it came to the gender reveal, you didn’t want anything extravagant or over the top — no big parties, no confetti cannons, no crowd of people. just you, harry, and ava in your living room, making the moment yours.

you had a little cardboard box set on the coffee table, sealed shut with tape, and inside was a single balloon — either pink or blue. harry had been grinning all morning, unable to hide his excitement, and ava had been bouncing around the house, desperate to know if she was getting a brother or a sister.

‘go on, baby girl,’ you said, kneeling beside her as she tugged at the tape. harry crouched on her other side, his hand on her back, just as eager.

she peeled the lid open, and the second it lifted, a big, shiny blue balloon floated free, drifting up to your ceiling.

harry’s face lit up instantly — joy, surprise, pure happiness all at once. ava let out the loudest squeal, jumping in place like she could barely keep still. you just stared for a moment, your hand over your mouth, the reality sinking in.

‘mummy, does that mean i’m getting a brother?’ ava asked, her voice full of wonder.

‘yeah, baby girl,’ you said, pulling her into your arms. ‘you’re getting a brother.’

harry turned to you, eyes wide, cheeks flushed with excitement. ‘we’re having a baby boy!’

‘yeah, we are!’ you laughed, unable to stop smiling.

he wrapped both arms around you and ava at once, pulling you into a tight family hug. the three of you stood there, tangled together, tears slipping down your cheeks and laughter filling the room.

‘does this mean we’re naming the baby dinosaur?’ you asked, glancing down at ava with a playful smile.

‘yes, mummy!’ she said without hesitation, her little arms squeezing you tighter.

and in that moment — your daughter giggling, harry kissing the side of your head, the blue balloon swaying gently against the ceiling — you couldn’t imagine your life any other way.

you didn’t think harry would be so excited for all the boring parts — the endless lists, the shop trips, the research that made your eyes blur. but honestly, he thrived.

picking out the perfect pram became his personal mission. he compared models like he was buying a luxury car, pushing them up and down the aisles to “test the suspension,” checking the folding mechanisms until the store assistants were smirking.

when it came to the nursery, you’d expected him to shrug and let you decide, but instead, he was in the paint aisle holding up swatches against the light, debating the subtle difference between “cloud grey” and “morning mist.” he’d text you photos of tiny dungarees or knitted hats from wherever he happened to be, proudly declaring, “got this for baby boy”

he read reviews on nappies like they were restaurant critiques, insisting on finding the softest, most leak-proof option available. he even started a spreadsheet, because “organisation is half the battle.”

and you couldn’t help but admire him. not just for the way he threw himself into it, but for the way it was all so genuine. he wasn’t just preparing for a baby — he was building a home, a life, a world that your baby would arrive into knowing he was loved in every single detail.

sometimes you’d just watch him, crouched on the floor assembling a cot with his hair falling into his face, and think, yeah… this is the man I’m doing life with.

it happened in the middle of the night — quiet, still, the kind of dark where the whole world feels like it’s sleeping. harry was sleeping, breathing deeply. ava was across the hall in her little bed, probably curled up with her teddy. and you were pacing the length of your bedroom, phone in hand, timing the minutes between each tightening in your stomach.

you told yourself it could be a false alarm. no point in waking harry yet. no point in making a fuss if it was just your body playing tricks on you. but then, as you made your way to the kitchen for a glass of water, it happened — sudden, certain, unmistakable. your waters broke right there on the kitchen floor.

it was real.

your hands shook as you grabbed your phone, calling your mum first. ‘it’s time,’ you told her, trying to sound calmer than you felt. she didn’t hesitate — said she’d be there in ten minutes.

you rushed into the bedroom, flicking the light on. ‘harry,’ you said, your voice urgent enough to pull him from sleep instantly.

he was up in seconds, no questions asked, already moving around the room, grabbing the hospital bag, throwing on clothes.

by the time your mum arrived, you were at the door, shoes half on, adrenaline pushing you forward. she hugged you both quickly, whispering a shaky ‘congratulations’ before shooing you out. ‘go on, go! i’ve got ava, she’ll be fine.’

harry helped you into the car, and even though you could feel his nerves radiating off him, he drove so carefully — both hands tight on the wheel, eyes flicking between the road and you, barely going over the speed limit.

when you finally got to the hospital, he was a whirlwind of movement. pacing up and down the corridor, stopping every midwife and nurse who passed with questions — how long would it be, what did you need, were you comfortable enough? he kept glancing at you like he was ready to jump in and fix anything you asked for.

you could tell he was nervous. but under it all, there was something else too — pure, steady determination. he was here. he was ready. and this time, you weren’t doing it alone.

the baby came early the next morning, the first rays of daylight spilling into the room just as his tiny cry filled the air. everything after that felt like a blur — nurses moving around you, soft voices, the steady rhythm of your own heartbeat in your ears. but then they placed him in your arms, and the world seemed to go still.

he was so small, warm, and impossibly perfect. you traced the curve of his cheek with your fingertip, unable to look away. harry was right there beside you, leaning over, his eyes fixed on the tiny face nestled against your chest.

you’d seen harry in a hundred different moods — playful, serious, tired, excited — but you’d never seen this. he stared down at your baby boy like he was the most precious thing in the world, like the rest of the hospital could have vanished and he wouldn’t have noticed.

when you finally passed the baby to him, his hands were careful, almost hesitant, as if he was afraid to breathe too hard in case he disturbed him. but once that little body was tucked into his arms, harry’s whole face softened.

‘hi, mate,’ he whispered, his thumb brushing over the baby’s tiny fist. ‘i’m your dad.’

his voice cracked slightly on the word dad, but he didn’t seem to care. he just kept looking, memorising every feature — the dark lashes against pale skin, the way his nose wrinkled in his sleep, the steady rise and fall of his chest.

you watched them together, your heart so full it almost hurt.

harry glanced up at you, his eyes glassy but smiling. ‘he’s… he’s ours,’ he said, like he still couldn’t quite believe it.

‘yeah,’ you murmured, feeling the tears slip down your cheeks. ‘he’s ours.’

and in that quiet hospital room, with your son in his arms, harry looked absolutely in love — not just with the baby, but with the life the three of you had just stepped into.

when you brought him home the next day, the house felt different — warmer somehow, even though you were both running on barely any sleep. ava was waiting by the door with your mum, practically bouncing out of her skin, her little hands clasped in front of her like she might explode if she didn’t see him immediately.

the moment harry stepped through the door, she was right there, peeking into the car seat with wide eyes. ‘he’s so small,’ she whispered, almost in awe.

you settled onto the couch and gently placed her baby brother in her lap, your hands still supporting him. she cradled him like he was made of glass, pressing soft kisses onto his fuzzy head. ‘hi, baby,’ she said in a voice so sweet it made your chest ache.

‘what’s he called!’ she asked suddenly, looking up at you both with expectant eyes.

‘well,’ harry started with a little grin, ‘sorry to break your little heart, but he’s not called dinosaur.’

ava giggled. ‘good, i don’t like that name anymore,’ she said matter-of-factly, brushing a fingertip across her brother’s tiny hand.

‘well,’ you said, smiling, ‘he’s called noah.’

ava’s whole face lit up. ‘i love it!’ she declared, giving him another kiss.

you and harry exchanged a glance over her head, both of you smiling in that quiet, wordless way that said everything — this was your family now. all four of you.

that evening, after the visitors had gone and the house was quiet, you found yourselves all curled up together on the couch — harry with noah sleeping soundly against his chest, ava tucked into your side, her head on your shoulder.

the only light came from the lamp in the corner, casting everything in a warm, golden glow. harry reached over with his free hand, lacing his fingers through yours, and for a long time, none of you spoke. there was no need.

you glanced at ava, her eyelids drooping but her hand still resting gently on her baby brother’s tiny foot. harry caught your gaze and smiled, a soft, tired, we did it kind of smile.

and in that moment, with both your children safe in your arms and the man you loved holding you all together, you realised this — this was it. the life you hadn’t planned but somehow had always been meant for.

your little world was complete.

MASTERLIST

will had been in a weird mood for a few days now. not angry exactly, not snappy or rude, just… off. quieter than usual, a little distant. he wasn’t saying anything about it, of course. every time you asked, he just shrugged and said he was fine, or made some joke to change the subject. you knew him well enough to know when something was bothering him, and this definitely was.

you’d been trying to piece it together, thinking back through the last few days, trying to figure out when the shift had happened. that morning he’d been completely normal, kissed you goodbye, made some dumb joke while he got ready, left for work like any other day. he’d filmed a video, edited for a bit, and then came home for lunch. he was fine then too. maybe a little tired, but still smiling, still himself.

but after lunch, he went to a moresidemen shoot. and when he came home that evening, something had changed. he didn’t want to talk about it. just said it was fine when you asked how the shoot went, then quickly steered the conversation somewhere else. he wasn’t rude, just kind of… avoidant. closed off. he didn’t seem mad at you, but you could tell something had stuck with him.

since then, he’d been a little clingier, holding you longer than usual when you hugged, pulling you closer in bed at night, texting you more than he normally would throughout the day. little things. almost like he needed reassurance but didn’t want to ask for it out loud.

you let it be for a while, figuring he’d talk when he was ready. but you couldn’t help the way it tugged at your brain, the curiosity slowly building into worry. what had happened at that shoot? why was he being like this?

then the video came out.

it was a ‘who knows the sidemen best’ video. three teams of youtubers, buzzing energy, stupid challenges. will was on one of the teams, sitting between chris and theo, grinning, throwing out sarcastic jabs and laughing like nothing in the world could bother him.

at first, it was all fun. the kind of video you’d seen a hundred times before, familiar faces, harmless jokes, everyone having a good time. will seemed relaxed, smiling properly, not just that fake on-camera kind of smile. he was enjoying himself. laughing freely, answering questions, teasing the other teams. you found yourself smiling too, watching him be so unapologetically himself.

and then it happened.

one of the questions came up, the kind that’s meant to stir the pot, get a rise out of people. “which of the sidemen used to fancy will’s girlfriend?”

you didn’t even see who asked it. the room broke into immediate noise, laughter and shouts, reactions all over the place. but your eyes were already locked on will.

his face dropped. not fully, just a flicker, but it was enough. enough to know that it hit somewhere real. he still laughed, still played along like it was nothing, but something shifted. the sparkle in his eyes dulled a bit. the laughter got quieter. he shifted in his seat, more reserved now. you could see it — the slow pull-back. the wall going up.

his team wrote down a few names as a joke. someone on another team even said, “pretty sure most of them did at some point,” which earned more laughs. but when it came time for the reveal, all the teams had written the same name:

harry.

and suddenly the whole thing turned into a roast. everyone piling on, half-laughing, half-serious, making jokes at will’s expense. harry looked properly embarrassed, red in the face, trying to deflect, but no one let it go. will sat there, quiet now, his arms crossed, his jaw tight. he wasn’t smiling anymore. not really.

and you understood instantly.

you knew about harry. knew he’d had a thing for you back in your early career, before you and will were ever a thing. it had never gone anywhere, never even got close, but yeah, he’d liked you. made it obvious. you’d known the sidemen before will, been around their circle for a while, and they were actually the ones who introduced you to him. you and will hit it off naturally, and anything about harry had been forgotten.

and now, years later, someone had dragged that memory out into the open, put it on display in front of the entire internet. turned it into a game. a joke.

and will… will had to sit there and smile through it. pretend it didn’t bother him. pretend it wasn’t eating at him that his friends had made something so personal into content.

you felt a knot tighten in your chest. it all made sense now — the quiet mood, the avoidance, the clinginess. it wasn’t jealousy. it was hurt. he felt disrespected. blindsided. like some unspoken line had been crossed.

as far as you were aware, will had no idea about harry. it’s not like you had anything to hide, he had a crush on you, nothing happened, and then you met will. what pissed him off was that everyone knew — and no one had the sense to keep it private. they’d made it into a laugh, and he was expected to be okay with that.

you paused the video.

and for the first time in days, you didn’t just wonder what was wrong, you knew.

he got home late that night, just past ten, the front door creaking open quietly like he didn’t want to disturb anything. you were already curled up on the sofa, lamp on low, waiting for him.

he smiled when he saw you. that familiar, soft smile that was only ever meant for you. his arms wrapped around you without hesitation, pulling you close, burying his face in your neck for a second before pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“hey, love,” he murmured. “how was your day?”

you answered him, told him about something small and stupid that happened at work, and he listened, nodded, laughed at the right part. and for a second, you almost let it go. almost let the night go on like nothing was sitting heavy between you.

but it was there, thick in the air, pressing against your chest.

you couldn’t hold it in.

“i watched the sidemen video today,” you said quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

his arms went still. he didn’t move for a beat, then slowly pulled back, just enough to look at you, except he didn’t. his eyes shifted away, focused on something just past your shoulder. his jaw tensed slightly. you felt his grip loosen, like he was already retreating before the conversation even started.

“oh yeah?” he said, tone neutral, maybe too neutral.

you nodded. “the one you were in.”

he scratched the back of his neck, still not looking at you. “right. that one.”

you watched him carefully. the way his body language shifted — closed off, guarded, like he was bracing for something. he didn’t want to talk about it. that much was clear. but he also knew why you were bringing it up. you could see it all over him with the way his jaw clenched, the way his foot started tapping absently against the floor.

“will,” you said gently, reaching out to place a hand on his arm. “you know i don’t care about any of that. it was years ago. before you and me.”

he nodded once, quickly. “i know.”

but his voice was tight, and his eyes still wouldn’t meet yours.

“then why won’t you talk to me about it?” you asked, softer now. “why’ve you been acting like none of it bothered you?”

he sighed. not loud, not dramatic. just a quiet, worn-out sound, like he didn’t have the energy to keep pretending.

“because it’s fucking embarrassing,” he muttered finally, eyes flicking up to yours for a moment before dropping again. “it’s not about harry. it’s not about you. it’s just… i had to sit there, blindsided while everyone laughed like it was hilarious that my girlfriend used to be someone else’s crush and i had no idea. like i was the joke. and i couldn’t say anything. couldn’t react, because if i did, i’d be called sensitive or jealous or whatever.”he shrugged, like he was trying to brush it off. “so i just sat there like an idiot. let them laugh. and now it’s on the internet forever.”

you stayed quiet, letting him speak, letting him get it out.

“i know it was years ago. i trust you. i just…” he finally looked at you properly, eyes soft but tired. “i didn’t like feeling like a punchline. especially not about something that actually matters to me.”

“i’m sorry i never told you,” you said softly, your thumb brushing over his hand. “it’s not fair that you found out that way. but nothing ever happened between me and him, he never said anything to me. it was just whispers from other people back then. stuff i never thought mattered.”

will was quiet for a second, just looking at you, his expression unreadable. you couldn’t tell if he was hurt, or just tired of holding onto it all.

but then he nodded slowly. “you had no reason to tell me,” he said, voice low. “i trust you if you say nothing happened. i do. it was just annoying, you know? finding out like that, on camera, in front of everyone. being laughed at over it. i felt like the last one to know something that had my name in it.”

his words weren’t angry. just honest. raw. you could feel how long he’d been holding it in — the quiet sting of it.

you reached up and cupped his face gently, your fingers resting against his jaw. “you weren’t the joke, will. you’re the one i chose. the only one i’ve ever really wanted. it was never harry, it was never anyone else.”

he exhaled, something in his shoulders easing at your words. then, finally, he looked at you properly, his eyes soft, tired, but clear. the kind of look he only gave you when he let his guard down.

“i know,” he whispered.

then he leaned in, pressing a slow, warm kiss to your lips, like he needed to feel it, to anchor himself to something real.

his eyes were soft now, pulling you in just a little closer. “and anyway,” you said with a sly smile, “next time they bring it up, you can tell them you’re the one fucking me”

will’s smirk grew darker, a spark lighting in his eyes. you stepped closer, your hand sliding up to rest lightly at the back of his neck.

“oh yeah?” he challenged, voice low and teasing.

“yeah,” you whispered, voice thick with promise, “you can tell them all about how good i look on my knees for you.”

his grin widened, and without breaking eye contact, he pulled you even closer. the tension between you was electric, filled with quiet confidence and something thrillingly dangerous.

his grin lingered, eyes dark and gleaming as he leaned in closer, the heat between you thickening with every second. “what else?” he asked, voice low and teasing, like a challenge you couldn’t resist.

you smiled, your breath warm as you leaned in, fingers lightly tracing the curve of his jaw before your lips brushed just behind his ear. “you can tell them exactly how good my lips look when they’re wrapped around your cock,” you whispered, letting the words hang heavy in the air.

his breath hitched, chest rising a little faster, and your hands slid down to the waistband of his jeans. your fingers pressed through the fabric, palming him slowly, deliberately, enough to make him shiver under your touch.

“might have to remind me,” he murmured, voice catching with a mixture of amusement and something deeper, hunger, maybe.

your fingers worked at the button of his jeans, slow and teasing, your thumb brushing over the metal again and again before finally slipping the button free. you slid the zipper down carefully, your hand moving with purpose as you eased the jeans down just enough to expose the top of his boxers.

your other hand followed, tugging his boxers down alongside the jeans, exposing more of him inch by inch. he swallowed hard, eyes locked on yours, breath shaky but steady.

his hands tangled in your hair, pulling you down to your knees. you looked up at him, your eyes soft, full of trust. his other hand slid down to wrap around his cock, lining it up with your lips. his grip tightened slightly in your hair, guiding you as he moved forward.

you took him slowly, meeting him halfway, lips closing gently around him. he let out a quiet grunt of approval, pushing you down just enough until you took all of him.

you moved slowly, letting him set the pace as your lips closed around him with soft pressure, matching his rhythm carefully. will’s hands were steady, one resting lightly on the back of your head, guiding you with a gentle firmness that sent shivers down your spine.

his breathing grew heavier, the low grunts escaping him mixing with the quiet sound of your shared breaths. as his patience thinned, his hips began to thrust forward with more insistence, a sharp intensity that made the air between you crackle.

the sensations built quickly — a delicious mix of tension and need — and you felt the edges of tears prick at your eyes, overwhelmed by the closeness and the rawness of of him fucking your face.

will’s voice dropped to a husky whisper, “wanna tell them how good you look when your face is covered in my cum.”

you nodded slowly, words caught in your throat, but your eyes locked with his, full of trust and a silent promise. in that space, nothing else mattered, just the two of you, tangled in something fierce and real, the world fading away beyond the door.

will thrust a few more times, slow and deliberate, before pulling out carefully, resting his cock on your upper lip. he came on your face, letting a few drops drip down your lips and chin, catching the dim light like tiny pearls.

he reached up, tilting your head gently to meet his gaze, eyes burning with a mix of adoration and hunger. “so fucking gorgeous,” he murmured, voice rough but full of something tender, “so fucking mine.”

his thumb brushed over your chin, wiping away the stray drops with slow, deliberate care. then, sliding his thumb past your lips, he let you suck on it, drawing every last drop with quiet intimacy.

he pulled you up to your feet, his hands firm but careful as he drew you into another kiss, this one deeper, hungrier, filled with a raw urgency. his fingers stayed tangled in your hair, holding you close, while his other hand pressed firmly against your waist, grounding you both in the moment.

when he finally pulled away, his eyes dark with desire, he nodded toward the couch. “bend over for me, sweetheart,” he said, voice low and commanding.

you didn’t hesitate. sliding forward, you leaned over the couch, the curve of your body pressing into the soft fabric, your ass lifted just the way he liked. the air between you crackled, heavy with anticipation and trust, every second building toward what was coming next.

he came up behind you, hands gripping your hips firmly, fingers pressing into your skin just enough to make you let out a soft, breathy groan. will’s touch was both possessive, grounding you in the moment.

his fingers slipped under the waistband of your leggings, slowly pulling them down along with your thong, exposing the smooth skin beneath. he paused, his gaze lingering as his fingertips traced light, teasing paths across your bare cunt.

a low, amused sound escaped him. “hmm, can’t wait to tell them how wet you get for me,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire.

he stayed close behind you, fingers teasing lightly, never letting you pull away. when you tried to shift back into his touch, his grip on your waist tightened just enough to hold you steady.

“so needy,” he murmured, voice low and amused.

“will, please,” you breathed, voice soft but desperate.

a small laugh rumbled from behind you. “desperate, are we?” he teased. you nodded, unable to say more.

then, almost imperceptibly at first, the tip of him pressed gently against you, hard and heavy, a quiet promise of what was to come.

you stayed still, knowing that moving now would only delay what you wanted most. so you waited, every breath and heartbeat stretched tight with anticipation.

he pushed in slowly, inch by inch, his hands gripping your waist tightly to steady you. a sharp gasp escaped you at the familiar stretch, every time it caught you off guard, stunning in its intensity.

he stayed slow at first, moving in and out with careful precision, savoring every inch, every moment of connection between you. then, without warning, his pace quickened, thrusting harder, faster, filling the room with the sound of skin meeting skin.

your moans mingled with the rhythm, soft and breathy, the tension building with each movement until it felt like you might shatter.

the world around you blurred, leaving only the heat between you, raw and undeniable.

he leaned closer, his voice low and rough as his hips slammed against you. “gonna tell them how good you look from behind,” he said, each word punctuated by the steady rhythm of his thrusts.

you nodded, breath catching in your throat. “please,” you whispered, desperate and eager.

“gonna tell them how good you take my cock,” he growled, and the raw heat of his words sent a shiver straight through you.

every thrust was electric, jolts of pleasure racing through your body as your breaths came faster, struggling to keep pace with the mounting intensity between you.

“will, i’m close!” you gasped, breath catching as the rush built inside you.

“good, baby,” he murmured, voice low and urgent. “finish on my cock.”

he kept thrusting, steady and relentless, driving you higher until your legs trembled beneath you, heart pounding wild in your chest. waves of pleasure crashed over you, overwhelming and intense, spilling out between you both.

but he didn’t stop, his own breath growing ragged as he chased his own release, pushing through the haze, lost in the fierce connection only you could share.

his rhythm faltered, hips stuttering just slightly, so subtle you barely noticed, but enough to shift the whole rhythm between you. with a few powerful thrusts, he slammed into you again, each one sending a fresh wave of heat and tension through your body.

then, slowly, he began to ease back, the pace dropping as the urgency melted into something softer, deeper. you felt him shiver inside you as he came, his grip tightening around your waist before finally stilling as he finished.

you stayed like that for a long moment, his warmth filling you completely, his breath warm against your skin. his head rested gently on your back, fingers tracing lazy circles along your waist, grounding you both in the shared aftermath.

the only sounds were the soft mingling of your breaths, heavy and uneven, the quiet thump of your hearts trying to settle after the storm. time seemed to stretch, like a fragile bubble holding just the two of you, away from the world.

and then, slowly, he pulled out, and the sudden emptiness hit you like a wave — a sharp contrast to the fullness you’d just felt.

he slid his jeans and boxers back on with practiced ease. he settled back onto the couch, pulling you down with him so you were cradled against his chest.

his arms wrapped around you tightly, grounding and warm, as if to hold you close against the shift from heat to calm. you rested your head against him, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath you.

for a while, you just stayed there — quiet, tangled together, wrapped in the quiet aftermath that only the two of you could share. the world outside could wait. here, in this moment, everything was exactly where it was meant to be.

“you in a better mood now?” you asked, voice soft but teasing.

he let out a small, breathy laugh. “oh yeah, much better.”

“if i knew fucking me would’ve cheered you up this much, i would’ve done this days ago,” you smirked.

“wish you did,” he said, smiling down at you. “spent days pissed off—could’ve saved a lot of energy if this happened earlier.”

you laughed softly, the tension melting between you. “i’ll remember that for next time.”

he pressed a small, gentle kiss to your lips. “c’mon, let’s get you cleaned up.”

he stood, pulling you to your feet and wrapping his arms around you as he guided you toward the bathroom, the easy warmth between you settling back in like home.

MASTERLIST