#a beautiful day to have lunch outside | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1d1195 · 5 months ago

Text

Independent

~10.6k words

From me: I know it's a long one, but it's a one-shot.

Warnings: angst, fluff. I've got about a thousand tropes in this one. Coworker Harry, Roommate Harry, love at first sight, he falls first and harder, one bed if you squint.

Summary: “Go on a date with me,” he groaned.

“Because of the cookies?”

“No! Well, yes. Right now, yes, because of the cookies. But s’not usually because of cookies.”

She laughed. “I don’t date, Harry.”

Harry was tall, with soft brown locks that begged to have fingers run through them, and cool green eyes that reminded her of the sage green bridesmaid’s dress she wore to one of her friends’ weddings the year before. He wore a dark purple button down with sleeves rolled up revealing a bunch of tattoos on his left arm but only a few on the right. His voice was melodic. Smooth, like he was going to sing her a lullaby and warm like it could toast a marshmallow.

Her group chat with a couple of her office friends had been buzzing the moment Harry took residence at the desk across the aisle and one row ahead of her.

Holy fuck. Val texted. Office eye candy 😍

Do you hear that thundering sound? That’s my heart 😍 Rachel continued.

She smirked at the desks, shaking her head.

Don’t shake your head. Say something! At least you’re single, you have a chance! Val sent the messages in quick succession, making her desk partner, Hunter, look at her curiously each time it vibrated.

“Do you have an emergency?” He asked her.

She shook her head. “Nope,” she smiled. “Not at all.”

Harry met her and asked her out on the very first day he started his new job. They both worked in an office. Their desks only a short distance apart while they worked together. He assumed there were no rules against dating as there were several married couples within the office as he quickly found out from the shared last names and wedding photos of his coworkers lining one another’s desks.

It seemed, as long as it didn’t interfere with their work, there was no issue.

Which was fine by Harry.

He was happy to ogle her all day long and he would spoil her rotten outside of work. “Hi, m’Harry,” Harry took his opportunity to introduce himself when everyone else left for their lunch hour and she was finishing something up. Leaving them alone in the office. Harry analyzed her desk as quickly as he could.

Their office was wide open with desks back-to-back nearly identical on either side with a long aisle leading to the office of their boss at the back of the room. Her desk faced the front of the room while Harry’s faced his boss’ office. He was on the opposite side of the room, and he had a great view all day long to watch her profile as she worked. Her hair was half up, her beautiful eyes hidden behind glasses, and her mouth set in concentration as she focused on her tasks. He couldn’t see her whole body, but he watched her pull her sandy colored cardigan around her white shirt multiple times that morning, like she was chilled by the air conditioner. His eyes were drawn to her. Like she was a lighthouse, and he was out at sea. All he wanted to do was watch her, keep an eye on her, and admire how stunning she was.

She had a little plant near her window—a bunch of red poppies wrapped up in a burlap vase, tied with a red bow. He couldn’t tell if it was fake or not, but he suspected it was. There was a picture of a large group of friends right by her monitor where she was off to the side in it, one of her girlfriends had an arm around her. Her stationery was cool tones of blues, greens, and purples. Her handwriting was scribbled on a calendar in front of her and he thought the way she curved her L’s was loopy and pretty beyond belief and he wished he had one in his name just to see how it looked. But it made him want to know how she would write his name anyway. There was a date at the end of September that was marked with a heart and he wondered why. Was it an anniversary? A birthday? Or the day her favorite movie came out?

A book sat on the windowsill, and he wondered when she had the time to read it during the day or maybe it was a security blanket kind of thing. There were two paper trays stacked on top of one another to organize her work and sticky notes all over her monitor and desk with ideas, reminders, and even a couple that said things like, “we love you” and “you’re so sweet.”

“Hi, Harry,” she smiled up at him to introduce herself. “Welcome to the team, are you having a good first day?”

He nodded, smiled a little brighter and dove right in. “I think m’in love with you,” she released a laugh that was so unbelievably beautiful Harry thought it sealed the deal. “I wouldn’t laugh, kitten. M’serious,” he frowned with faux sadness. He knew he was being a tad bit ridiculous. Maybe it wasn’t right to say it while they were alone, but he didn’t want to say it in front of everyone either. Hopefully he could convince her he was harmless, even if what he said was true.

Her cheeks reddened and she smiled. “That’s... very forward,” she reminded him. “And you don’t know me.”

“I know,” he rubbed the back of his head. “I was going t’hold off on saying it until tomorrow, but m’unable t’contain it. You’re very beautiful and everyone seems t’go t’you when they need help, so I imagine you’re a lovely person,” he pointed at the sticky note that said we love you once more. She snickered again and looked away covering one cheek with her hand. “M’going t’go t’lunch before I embarrass myself further, but I jus’ wanted to tell you,” he shrugged, stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned toward the exit.

“Nice meeting you Harry,” she called after him a smile on her lips.

He grinned and turned briefly to wave before he exited. “Don’t forget t’eat, kitten,” he called.

But now that Harry admitted he was in love with her, she couldn’t help but feel like she was being watched while she worked. Her eyes darted to his side of the room often trying to see if he was staring at her. He wasn’t each time which only made her feel guilty and worse. Maybe her standoffish disposition deterred him rapidly. It was probably for the best, anyway. For a lot of reasons.

Was it disappointment she was feeling from his lack of attention? That didn’t seem right.

“Harry!” Val called from behind her. “Are you enjoying your first day?”

“Immensely,” did his eyes drift over to her and her desk? She stared at her screen pretending to work while she listened.

“Did you just move to town?” Rachel was much further towards the front of the room. He turned to give her his full attention. It made her heart skip a beat with how kind it was. His politeness was a massive turn on.

Even if she wasn’t going to let herself admire Harry from across the way just because they worked together.

“I did, m’actually looking for a place t’live if y’know of any places. M’at a hotel until m’on m’feet.”

Her heart started beating about two hundred times a minute because she knew what was going to happen before it did. She could feel the bubbling excitement from her friends on either end of the room. “Mary Poppins has a room!” Rachel shouted.

Her cheeks turned bright red.

“Her roommate just moved in with her boyfriend like last week! How perfect is that, Mary? You were all worried about finding a normal roommate. I even did his background check, so I know he’s good to go!”

Harry chuckled. “Um... who’s Mary Poppins?”

The whole office giggled. “Miss Poppins, did you not introduce yourself?” Someone else called. Hunter snickered across from her and she glared at him.

This was mortifying. Wasn’t this supposed to be a mortifying day for Harry? His first day and all? How come she was being teased? She took a deep breath and turned from her monitor to make direct eye contact with Harry who was already looking at her. Like he knew exactly who Mary Poppins was without his coworkers needing to tell him. “It’s a two-bedroom apartment. One bath. There’s a nice kitchen, all new appliances.”

Harry’s jaw dropped as she spoke. Like he was surprised it really was her. “Val looks like she’s going to bounce out of her seat,” Hunter smirked as he whispered under his breath to her while she tried not to panic at the thought of living with someone so unbelievably attractive and just admitted he was in love with her.

“Tell him about your living room!” Val sounded like she was bouncing.

“Water’s included.”

“She’s the cutest interior designer. It’s so homey it feels like a warm hug when you walk in. Like living with a rom-com character,” Rachel continued.

“Rent would be about twelve hundred,” she ignored her so-called friends.

“She bakes something once a week too, so it always smells like sugar and Christmas. It’s seriously the coziest place I’ve ever been,” Val kept going.

“In-unit washer and dryer.”

“Then she brings whatever she makes for all of us here to devour. It’s incredible,” Rachel’s sentiment was answered with a hum of agreement from the rest of her coworkers. She even heard someone say remember her apple turnover pastries?

“You get your own parking spot,” she tilted her head and looked at the ceiling to see if there was anything else she had forgotten. “I think that’s it,” she met Harry’s eyes once more, holding his gaze briefly before she turned back to her monitor.

“Harry you should totally move in, you will fall in love with the place.”

“M’sure I would,” he chuckled. “Could I see it sometime?” He asked. His attention never strayed from her face. She could sense his gaze on the side of her cheek the whole time her friends embarrassed the crap out of her. “Whenever you’re free. Doesn’t have t’be today.”

“Today’s fine!” Rachel assured him. “She doesn’t do anything on Mondays.”

She rolled her eyes. “Today is fine,” she repeated and smiled sweetly. She scribbled on a sticky note and headed to his desk to drop the address off with him. Then she made her way toward the restroom because she needed to get out of the room. Needed away from everyone teasing her good-naturedly.

But mostly so she could keep herself from telling Harry that she was quite, very possibly, in love with him as well.

True to her friends’ words, the place was cozy as hell. There was a basket of throw blankets next to a sofa that looked like it was comfier than his bed currently in his storage unit. Artwork dotted the walls, board games stowed below her TV, and curtains pulled back from the windows letting in the afternoon sunlight. It felt like a home.

There were three boxes in the middle of the living room between the coffee table and the TV, but it was otherwise spotless. “You’re very clean.”

She nodded. “I know, I’m sorry.”

He chuckled. “Y’don’t need t’apologize,” he put his hands in his pockets, so he didn’t do something crazy like hold her hand.

“I don’t want you to think I’m crazy, is all. You can be... messy... I won’t have a freak out or anything. Unless you leave food in the sink then we get bugs. Then I’ll be kind of freaked out.”

He laughed. “I wouldn’t do that. I like t’think m’pretty clean myself,” he assured her. “I also...” he took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his head. “Y’friends kinda put y’on the spot. I know what I admitted at lunch was kinda out of... out of the blue,” he bit his lip. “Y’don’t have t’feel obligated t’house me.”

“I don’t,” she promised. “I need a roommate and like Val said,” she shrugged. “She did your background check so I assume you won’t kill me, probably. At least not because you’re a serial killer. Maybe because I’m too clean.”

He shook his head with a smile on his lips making the most adorable dimple dent his cheek. She wanted to stick her tongue in it. “Thank you, m’really appreciative.”

She smiled. “You’re welcome, Harry. Sorry we’ll be around each other a lot.”

That didn’t seem like a bad thing at all. “I think it’ll be okay. We didn’t really talk much today,” he shrugged. “If y’get sick of me, m’sure I can find another place t’live,” he winked.

She rolled her eyes. “Won’t be necessary. But okay,” she sighed. “You can move in whenever,” she grabbed her keys from the breakfast bar where she ate most of her meals and pulled a key off the ring and handed it to him. “I have a second job some nights, but if you give me a heads up, I can help you move your stuff.”

“S’very kind of you, kitten, but y’don’t need t’do that. M’not going t’have all that much stuff. M’friend Louis lives not too far from here. He’ll come help me.”

“Offer stands,” she assured him.

Harry’s eyes scanned the room again and landed on the three boxes once more. “Are those your old roommate’s boxes?” He asked.

She nodded. “Two of them. I’m supposed to bring them to her, but they’re super heavy so I’m like... working up my mental and physical strength to bring them to my car. It’s going to be two trips and I’m just being a little lazy about it.”

“I can bring them down,” he grabbed one. It was definitely heavy. It was evident Harry had defined biceps and triceps practically outlined by the pretty purple button down, but it was manageable for him while a struggle for her. ��Still probably two trips,” he nodded.

“Oh, I can take—”

“No, no,” he shook his head. “Don’t want you t’hurt yourself. Let me,” he offered and snagged her car keys off the counter.

“Oh, thank you that’s... thank you,” she swallowed, feeling grateful.

“Not a problem,” he assured her and left immediately.

When he returned after putting the second box in her car to return her keys, she had opened the third box and begun laying out a bunch of fall items to decorate their place. “Do you mind decorations?”

“Of course not,” he smiled. “Can I help?”

She blinked at him and tilted her head. “Um... I can handle it. If you need to pack or go... get dinner or something.”

“M’fine,” he smiled, setting her keys on the counter and glanced around the room. He noted there were hooks screwed into the wall at various points. “Can I hang something for you? M’good for height.”

Harry wasn’t that much taller than her, she was definitely taller than the average woman, but it still meant she needed to drag out a stepstool when she wanted to put up her art and decorations. “That would be awesome,” she nodded. “Thank you.”

“Not a problem, kitten,” he smiled.

Harry had a dreamy smile on his face as they talked and got to know one another. He hadn’t brought up that he was in love with her. Nor did he make her feel the least bit uncomfortable. Like it had never happened.

Why did it feel like she was disappointed about the prospect of that?

Maybe he wasn’t in love with her. Maybe the initial reaction of seeing someone roughly the same age as him at work made his senses a bit wild for a moment.

No. She wasn’t disappointed. Everything about Harry being in love with her would be a recipe for disaster and it was for the best that he didn’t fall in love with her.

It was just something a little bit out of the blue to say to the only person who was single in the office. Everyone had a significant other they had met within the office or elsewhere. She was the last single person. The same was true with her friend group as well. Everyone in her life had been paired off except for her.

He was her coworker. He was going to be her roommate.

But right as he left, he sent her heart into a frenzy. They were by the door. She wanted to make sure he got to his car safely even though it was a safe neighborhood. It was just the way she was. “Will you go on a date with me?” He asked.

She stared at him in shock, her lips parting like she was mid-sentence, and he had interrupted. “Seriously?” She giggled reflexively, but her cheeks felt hot. They had a lovely evening together getting to know each other. Harry helped with all the decorations and yes, in its own way it was a bit intimate. But he couldn’t possibly think that it was a good idea to date his roommate.

“Yes,” he nodded.

“Harry, I can’t date my roommate.”

“Pretty sure s’how most rom-coms start,” he smiled. “S’okay. I’ll ask again later. Have a nice night,” he grinned with a wave and walked toward his car. Leaving her jaw slack, as she watched her roommate head off into the night.

Harry moved in later that week. He asked her to come with him to his storage unit to see if there was anything she would want in the apartment, but she had pretty much everything. It seemed silly to bring a double of everything when she owned all of it already.

But Harry would forever be grateful and indebted to his sister for her kindness as he watched her examine some of his belongings. One in particular caught her eye making him think that he had won the lottery with how excited she was.

She couldn’t believe Harry had a stand mixer and she was nearly in awe of all the attachments to help bake and cook easier. “I’ve always wanted one of these. They’re so expensive,” she blinked. “How do you have one?”

“M'sister got one when she got married,” he explained. “But she doesn’t bake and said it was taking up space in her kitchen.”

“Can we bring it to the apartment? Do you mind?”

The way her eyes lit up at the sight of it? Pure joy and happiness? Yeah. It was going to the apartment. If he ever moved out, he would probably leave it with her too just so she could always look that happy. “Course. Anything else?”

She looked around the organized storage room sifting through the items in different bins while Harry searched for some of his own trinkets that he thought he would want after his initial move. His room and bathroom items had already been moved in with the help of Louis. “This is stunning,” her voice full of awe once more, grabbing a print from behind a shelf. Harry wasn’t sure where it was from. He thought his mum purchased it to make his old place feel like home. “This would look amazing in the living room.”

“Bring it,” he smiled. She tucked it under her arm and continued searching. Harry grabbed a few more odds and ends and she plucked out a few more things she thought would work with the apartment’s décor and mainly helpful kitchen tools.

“It’s your place too, Harry,” she reminded him. “Is there anything you want there?”

He smiled, shook his head. “Y’seem t’have everything, kitten. M’not picky.”

“I don’t want you to feel like a guest,” she pouted. “Like you should bring these,” she gestured to pictures of his friends and family in a bin. “I can move some of mine to my room so you can put them up.”

He grinned. “Sure,” he shrugged. “If y’think s’what I should do.”

“Alright, could we come back in a few weeks and see if there’s anything else you want once you’re settled a bit?”

“Course.”

They gathered as much as they could, Harry would have to come back for the stand mixer. Harry closed the trunk and moved to open the passenger door for her before her hand fully pulled it out of the way. He waited until she was tucked into the seat safely and he handed her the car keys. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” she smiled.

“Hey kitten,” he said leaning against the door before he left. “Will y’go on a date with me?”

“Harry,” she laughed the same way she did the last time he asked her. The same way she laughed when he told her he was in love with her. “You can’t be serious!”

“Deadly,” he smiled at the delight on her face. The pretty pink color rising to her cheeks. “Will you?”

“I can’t go on a date with you, Harry,” she looked at him with a bit of sympathetic pity. Like he was ridiculous for asking. Again. Which he was.

“Then I’ll ask again another time,” he shrugged, closed her car door, and headed to get the stand mixer that made her happy.

“Hey Poppy, did y’want t’go get lunch with me?” Her eyes didn’t move from her screen. “Poppy,” he repeated. “Poppy,” he sang. She glanced around and realized she was the only one in the room.

“Me?”

He chuckled. “Yes, you.”

Her eyebrows pinched together. “Why did you call me Poppy?”

“Well, m’assuming s’your favorite flower,” it was a safe bet since there was a small bouquet right beside her. “Also, everyone else calls y’Mary, Poppins, or Miss Poppins. Which I still don’t know why, but I wanted t’be different. Want you t’know s’me when y’hear me talking t’you.”

Her heart raced. Harry was utterly adorable. “I see. Sorry,” she smirked.

“Anyway,” he came over to stand by her desk. “Do y’want t’get lunch?”

“Harry, I told you I don’t date.”

“M’not asking as a date. M’asking as your coworker who has never seen y’eat a bite of food while you’re at work. M’asking as your concerned roommate who worries y’don’t eat until y’get home for dinner. And I don’t even want t’think ‘bout how long y’go without eating when you’re at your second job.”

She smiled at his thoughtfulness. “I don’t go out to lunch with everyone,” she explained. “I don’t know if you noticed, but people always seem to need me while I’m here,” she gestured to her desk. “Lunch is the only time I get a minute to myself. And I can get caught up a bit before the afternoon and everyone comes back.”

“Well do you bring lunch?” He asked, his frown deepening still worried she wasn’t eating.

“I do, it’s in the breakroom. I’ll get it in a minute,” she promises. “Go, you’re wasting your lunch hour.”

“Okay,” he sighed. He stopped in the doorway of the entrance to the office. “Hey Poppy,” he smiled.

“Yeah?” She asked without looking up from her screen.

“Now that y’mention it though, will y’go out with me?”

At home, Harry took the trash out because he said it was a boy-job and she shouldn’t be out in the dark by a dumpster. It made his skin crawl just to think about it. He made her promise that she wouldn’t take out the trash and he didn’t mind if he had to go out twice in one day. She thought it was ridiculous. But she agreed.

He cleaned up after himself checking with her to see if it was up to her standard. Even though she assured him he didn’t have to meet her standard. His cologne overtook their bathroom, and it was so comforting she took long hot showers at night just to amplify the scent filling her nose. Harry stretched across the sofa and scrolled through various show options but often didn’t find something that piqued his interest. Instead, he would put on some background noise and read on an eReader. His eyebrows pinched together in concentration.

Harry bought groceries and didn’t ask for any money from them. “M’sure you’ll buy stuff too,” he shrugged. Plus, she already had all the cleaning supplies, laundry detergent, dishwasher pods, and the like. Harry hardly had anything useful so buying groceries was the least he could do.

Except the stand mixer. People moaned about her cookies. Harry got to see her make them firsthand and the very scene with an apron around her body, her smile bright as she tested various stages of the dough, it did wonders for Harry. Some kind of nearly pornographic idea that only Harry would think was pornographic. “Will you try one?” She asked, hope in her voice.

Was he supposed to say no to her? Absolutely not. So, he tried one. “Go on a date with me,” he groaned.

“Because of the cookies?”

“No! Well, yes. Right now, yes, because of the cookies. But s’not usually because of cookies.”

She laughed. “I don’t date, Harry.”

He frowned, faking his disappointment (although he was the slightest bit disappointed). “I’ll try again,” he shrugged and took three more cookies from her cooling rack before returning to the sofa to read.

“Mary!” Val sang. “Do you have the stain stick?” She called from behind. She opened a drawer, eyes unmoving from her screen and held it out behind her for it to be passed back by her other coworkers. Harry chuckled.

It killed her that she knew his chuckle without looking. “S’impressive,” he murmured quietly. But she could hear it from across the way.

“That’s nothing,” Rachel said from the other end of the room. “Miss Poppins,” she smiled delightedly. “I have a missing button,” she told her.

That was the other drawer, a small little sewing kit to fix a button.

“Hair tie!” Someone called from the other side of the room.

“Lint roller!”

They all called out items and she had every single one.

“Do you have anything stronger to put in this coffee?” Their boss was walking up the aisle and paused at her desk. She smirked, opened the bottom drawer and placed a mini bottle of liquid on the edge of the desk. The whole office laughed as he snatched it and headed to his office. “You’re getting a raise, Poppins,” he called.

Hunter turned to look at Harry. “I gave her the nickname,” he explained.

“I get it,” he chuckled.

“If you need it, chances are she has it.”

“If she doesn’t, she adds it,” Val explained.

Her smile was soft. Harry thought it was sweet how her coworkers adored her. It was clear she was loved by them. Her thoughtfulness was admirable. Harry wondered how he was supposed to top that. No wonder she didn’t want to go out with him. Why would she want to go out with anyone when she was ten times sweeter than anyone she knew?

Her best friend Josephine (Joey) was helping her in the bathroom when Harry got home from the gym one Friday evening. “Holy hell you said he was cute, not hot,” she gaped.

“Aw, y’think m’cute, Poppy?” He asked winking at her. Her cheeks flushed red, making it so she didn’t need any of the blush she was putting on her cheeks. He leaned against the doorframe; arms crossed over his chest. He was sweaty and really wanted to get in the shower, but he didn't mind a bit of time to stare at his sweet roommate.

“I should have known. Only a man that uses such high-end cologne would be this hot.”

“Didn’t you buy Matt high-end cologne?”

“Hence why I think he’s so hot,” Joey beamed. Her friend laughed quietly, shaking her head as she finished with her makeup.

“Sorry Harry, we’ll be out of the way in a minute.”

“Take y’time. M’not in a rush.”

“Oh, you should come out!” Joey squealed. “Harry, please! She’s always by herself keeping an eye on us it would be nice to have someone keep her company!”

“Thanks, Mom. I don’t need a babysitter,” she rolled her eyes. “No offense, Harry.”

“S’okay,” he chuckled. “I don’t want t’impose. Plus m’in need of a shower.”

“Don’t let us stop you,” Joey smiled widely gesturing to the shower.

“Can you not?” She rolled her eyes and looked at Harry with apologetic eyes.

He laughed again and shook his head. “Y’can call if y’need something,” he assured her.

“Harry, please come out! You can meet us there!” Joey said again.

She looked at him with a soft smile. A look in her eyes said he wasn’t going to get out of it. Not if he didn’t have a really good reason. But truthfully? He didn’t need a reason to get out of it. Spending time with her outside of work, outside of the apartment, and errands like the grocery store and running to the post office had him excited to see her in another frame of light. Did she let loose? He would love to dance with her. Even if it was only as friends, roommates, fuck as coworkers even. How did she act around her friends versus her coworkers? God, he was obsessed.

“I can wait for you,” she suggested, her voice soft. Harry smiled.

“Thanks, Poppy.”

Her eyes scanned for her friends as she sat on a stool at a high top beside Harry. It was like watching a teacher on a field trip counting heads to make sure everyone was still present. The table was littered with drinks all of which she minded just as intently.

Harry just gazed at her as he sipped his drink. He helped as needed pushing drinks toward her friends as they came back from dancing. “Y’don’t dance?”

“Oh...maybe later. I’m not very good,” she admitted. “I like dancing with Joey because she’s worse than me.”

She caught the eye of one of her friends, Hailey, approaching and she reached into her purse strapped around the front of her for something. Harry watched as Hailey made it to her. “Thanks Mary,” she gushed taking the bandage from her and made her way for the bathroom. It was pretty wild she could anticipate whatever her friends needed. It was like at work. Harry was a bit awestruck and looked at her with a surprised expression. She shrugged and continued sipping her drink.

Jaylen was next. Joey’s twin brother; they had the same facial expressions--mainly the smile that Joey had on her face when she suggested Harry shower in front of her and his favorite person.

The same smile appeared on his face and told Harry he was going to say something just as delightful as Joey had said of Harry. Sure enough, Jaylen draped an arm around her and leaned into her ear to whisper something over the sound of the music. She rolled her eyes and shoved him playfully. His face turned serious and he whispered something again.

She frowned. Then reached into her purse again. Out came a tampon which he slid discreetly into his pocket and then she glanced at his outfit twisting her lips to the side in disappointment.

After a brief thought, she pulled her purse over her body and laid it on the table. The long cardigan she wore came off next, leaving her in a black tank top that tucked into her jeans. It hugged her curves like a glove making Harry’s mouth water and he glanced away worried he would look like a creep. He finished his beer before Jaylen grinned and thanked her profusely and walked away. She took a deep breath and put her purse back into position before wrapping one arm in front of he protectively, gripping the front of her shoulder.

“Are y’cold?” He asked.

She shook her head.

But Harry was sitting beside her. He could see the goosebumps on her skin. She selflessly gave her sweater to her friend for whatever reason (Harry wasn’t totally sure, but he suspected it was menstrual related). But she was going to pretend like she wasn’t cold? Harry was definitely in love. In case it wasn’t obvious by the moment he met her. Boldly, Harry reached below her bar stool and tugged it toward him. She jostled a bit but he maintained her balance. Then he draped his arm around her body pulling her toward him further and he couldn’t help but notice she didn’t pull away. She didn’t make a sound and her facial expression didn’t change.

But Harry felt her body relax into his side, her head dipping ever so slightly toward his shoulder. He smiled softly and brought his lips closer to her ear so she could hear. “Y’don’t have t’lie t’me, Poppy. M’your roommate and all. I know y’like the apartment a toasty temperature.”

She smirked and tilted her head up. Their eyes connected, their mouths only two inches apart. “Thank you,” she said kindly.

Harry really enjoyed holding her.

At the end of the night, she rounded up her friends ensuring those who said they could drive actually could and if they couldn’t she called for Ubers until everyone was safely on their way home. Jaylen’s girlfriend, Maya, had her green sweater wrapped around her white pants. She thanked her profusely, drunkenly.

Joey and Matt waved goodbye. “Bye Hot Roommate,” Joey called waving to Harry specifically.

“Jesus, Joey,” Matt rolled his eyes. “Nice meeting you Harry,” he called.

Once everyone was gone, she rubbed her hands on her arms to keep the blood flowing and warming her skin. Harry wrapped his arm over her shoulders again and tucked her into his side as they headed for her parked car a couple blocks away. “Go on a date with me," he spoke straight forward. Hoping if he didn't look, it wouldn't seem like as a massive deal--almost like he would trick her into a date.

She elbowed him. “I can’t go out with a coworker, Harry. Or my roommate for that matter.”

He shrugged. “I’ll ask later,” he boldly kissed the top of her head. Fortunately, she didn't seem to mind. Harry was sure to keep that in his head for future reference. He would most definitely be kissing her again. “You’re an extremely sweet girl, Poppy. Selfless, lovely, kind,” he listed. “Whoever y’end up with, m’going t’be very jealous,” he assured her.

She snorted and laughed quietly under her breath. “Thank you, Harry.”

For months it continued with similar routines, feelings, and questions. They grew closer as friends. At work he admired her from his desk from across the office. When she didn’t go to lunch, he reminded her to eat and not work too hard. At home, he grumbled that her loophole of taking the trash out in the daytime was not the point of his promise. He still bought groceries each week trying to figure out all the things she enjoyed eating.

He helped her clean the apartment and when it was getting cooler outside, she asked to join him at the gym. Her outfits were cute and made guys stare at her as she worked out, unbeknownst to her. She asked for help from Harry which made him feel like he won an Olympic medal. His face was smug as the men in the gym finally stopped looking at her. Thinking Harry was lucky enough to be hers.

It made him happy to help her figure out new machines and with her sets of weightlifting (even though she didn’t like it).

Everywhere they went, people ogled her. She was so kind. Little kids would smile at her in grocery store lines and wave like it was a game of peekaboo. Dogs tugged on their leashes hoping to get a pet from her around the loop she ran in the neighborhood. Their elderly next door neighbor tried telling her a hundred times that she had a grandson her age and he would love to date her (that one drove Harry the most crazy).

She had her head leaning in her palm as she watched the stand mixer beat the brownie ingredients like it was the most interesting thing in the world. But Harry was watching her; so he was, in fact, watching the most interesting thing in the world.

He leaned against the wall just beside the kitchen entrance. “Poppy?” He asked. She looked up at him. “Go on a date with me, please," his expression soft.

She was finally getting used to it. She gave herself a lot of credit. It was pretty crazy she hadn’t caved yet. Harry was so lovely. Not to mention attractive. At the gym, his muscles rippled and glistened with sweat. The outline of every abdominal muscle was sinful. It was a miracle she didn’t drop her own weights or fall on the treadmill when she caught sight of him. It drove her crazy that the women there gazed at him longingly; like he was something to eat. But was she really any better?

She smiled, the blush on her cheeks still prominent, but not as deep. She was used to her heart skipping a beat, the butterflies fluttering in her stomach each time he asked. “That's very sweet, Harry. But I don’t date.”

It was six months since he met her when he finally asked. “Why not?”

She shrugged. He thought she wasn’t going to say anything more, so he frowned, sighed, and headed for the living room to get back to his book. “I just don’t date, Harry. I like being friends,” she told him.

He grumbled something about still being friends even if they dated but she either didn’t hear or pretended not to hear. Either way, it was quiet for a few beats. “If I hadn’t told you I was in love with you that first day, would that have changed your answer?”

She giggled and shook her head. “No.”

“Okay,” he shrugged. Ever determined. He smiled widely at her. “I’ll keep asking then.”

When she got dressed up for a family wedding and clicked down the hall in heels and a dress that flowed over her like she was the bride (only wearing green of course, not white). Her hair was curled and pinned so prettily Harry thought he was seeing a real angel in the flesh. “Oh, come on, Poppy,” he groaned and covered his eyes with his hand dramatically. “S’not fighting fair,” he frowned.

She grinned, her cheeks warming more than they had in a while. “I look okay?”

“Stunning,” he grumbled. “M’so jealous I won’t get t’dance with you,” he pouted.

She shook her head. “I don’t usually dance at weddings when I go alone,” she explained.

“Well, y’should’ve told me. I would’ve been your date.”

“Harry—”

“Platonic date,” he rolled his eyes. “This is worse than when y’wore that pencil skirt t’work,” he reminded her. She snickered and shook her head while she looked at her phone. She sucked her lip into her mouth and sighed wincing slightly and then turned to her room again. After several minutes she returned in a different dress. She was equally stunning, but she looked a little forlorn. “An outfit change?”

She nodded. “Yeah,” she shrugged. “My sister is wearing green.”

Harry frowned. “So?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I just...” she shrugged. “It’s alright. I like this dress just fine.”

But it wasn’t green. She looked so pretty in green. It complimented her skin tone so perfectly. She looked stunning. Like she was a queen. “But—”

“Seriously, Harry. It’s fine.”

The muted purple dress looked lovely on her as well. But Harry thought the green made her look otherworldly. He wanted the happiness back in her eye. The light that sparked when he complimented her. “Well when can y’wear it?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Season’s almost over for a wintergreen like that,” she shrugged. “Maybe next year.”

Harry frowned. But then he had a wonderful idea to help both her dress and himself. “Go on a date with me, Poppy.”

The smile reappeared on her face, and she shook her head. “I can’t, Harry.”

“Please? Do it for the sake of that dress,” he pleaded. “We don’t even have t’call it a date. An outing. An adventure. Whatever y’want. Y’jus’ need t’wear it before y’can’t.”

She smiled. “Thank you, Harry. But I can’t.”

He sighed. “You’re welcome, Poppy.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow? I’ll steal you a cupcake. I heard they come from this bakery that I love and if it doesn’t make it home to you, then we’re going to have to go there anyway.”

It didn’t replace a date. But he liked the way she smiled. And going to a bakery together was inherently a couple-y thing to do. So he would take what he could get.

“Sure, Poppy. I’d love to.”

She didn’t need people. Needing people had only ever broken her heart. She never asked for help ever. Well...only when they were at the gym but that was a safety thing more than anything.

Even when she should have asked.

Harry didn’t notice until he drove her to a house party that her friends didn’t invite her too. She was sleepy, it was obvious. Leggings, oversized sweater. Her hair was braided loosely and falling apart because she had woken in the middle of the night to answer a message. Harry was in the middle of a good book. Unable to put it down when she ventured into the living room. A yawn falling from her lips. Her eyes barely open. It took several questions and repeated convincing to let him drive her since he was awake, and it looked like she was going to pass out while standing.

Harry insisted on coming in even as she told him to stay in the car, but he refused. She found her friends, her voice was soft as she encouraged Jaylen to leave. A little over his limit and Joey and Maya were about just as gone and unable to convince Jaylen to go with them. A guy from across the room made a joke about Mommy coming to save him. As her pugnacious friend made a turn to deal with the offensive person, she stopped him. She was quick, grabbed his arm, and held tight.

When they returned to the apartment she corralled her friends into their sleeping arrangements. Maya and Jaylen in her bed, Joey on the sofa. “Sorry I took your reading spot,” she whispered as she tucked a blanket around Joey. She snagged another blanket and curled into the only other chair in the living room. “Thank you for driving,” she smiled, closing her sleepy eyes.

“You’re gonna sleep there?” He asked. She nodded, barely moving. Like she was already half-way to dreaming. Harry snagged her out of the chair, cradling her and bringing her to his room.

“Harry,” she protested.

“We’re grown adults,” he reminded her. “We can share a bed without it being weird. S’like a hotel room.”

“Harry,” she repeated, her objection evident in her tone. “I can’t—”

“M’not letting y’sleep in a chair or on the floor. So, it’s m’bed or y’aren’t sleeping,” he shrugged.

She sighed. Too tired to oppose any further, thankfully. Harry laid her atop the covers and draped another blanket over her. He went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, and slid beneath his sheets and glanced at the sleeping angel beside him. He smiled. He liked the way she looked in his bed. Liked the way she seemed comfortable and sleepy beside him. His bed felt warm with her beside him. Even though she wasn’t touching him. She smelled good in his room too.

“Night, Harry,” she mumbled.

“Good night, Poppy,” he answered, reached out, squeezed her hand before releasing it so she wouldn’t break a piece of his heart by telling him they shouldn’t.

It was easy to fall asleep with her beside him.

It was even easier to dream of her with her intoxicating presence in his room as well.

Harry noticed how drained she seemed when the weather continued to get warmer. Her friends all had birthdays around the same time, and she was a mess of scheduling and reserving birthday dinners and planning things for all of them. Did Harry miss her birthday? He would have to ask. He hoped he didn’t. He hoped her friends would take the time to plan for her the way she did for them.

Work was approaching a busy season, and everyone kept coming to her more and more throughout the day. He could see the anxiety on her face as her growing to-do list looked nearly unmanageable. Harry tried to go to others if he had issues. But every time he asked someone else a question, they called out for Mary Poppins, and she would glance up and look at Harry with a sad smile asking how she could help.

Harry was worried she wasn’t eating her lunch. When everyone else left, her eyes were hidden behind those glasses, her face concentrating and relieved for the reprieve from people calling her name for help with work or needing something like a pen or a screwdriver. Sometimes Harry hated his job. Not because it was difficult. But it seemed like everyone in the office was incompetent. Or weaponizing their incompetence and foisting their tasks onto the lovely woman who would never say no to them.

Her friends did it too. With all the planning and such.

The poor thing looked exhausted. She didn’t join Harry at the gym and her second job seemed like the only time she got to herself. “I miss reading,” she grumbled when she got home late from her shift. She kicked her shoes off and flopped onto the opposite end of the sofa. “My eyes are exhausted though,” she rubbed them for good measure. “I think I would fall asleep if I tried to read. I think I need to wake up earlier and read.”

Harry snorted. “Don’t burn yourself out, Poppy,” he rolled his eyes. “What are y’reading?”

“I’ve been trying t’read this book for months,” she pulled it from the shelf below the coffee table. He had seen it tucked there for a while. He grabbed it from her, skimmed the back of the book, and opened to the first chapter.

Then, he started reading.

Out loud.

“Harry,” she whispered her eyes wide.

“Yeah?” He asked, pointing at the sentence where he stopped and looked at her curiously. “M’starting over, because I want t’know what’s happening,” he smiled. Her face looked so shocked and confused. Sad even. Like she didn’t know what emotion she was supposed to feel.

“You don’t have to—”

He shook his head, and continued reading before she could finish her sentence.

Harry read three chapters before he carried her sleeping self to bed.

Something changed in Harry. He almost turned into a stalker. He tracked her movements and routines for a week. He knew most of them. But he really tracked them. The daily ones were easiest. She went for a run in the morning, he followed her lead and didn’t say a word. He went to her favorite coffee shop and paid for her favorite drink for a week’s worth of drinks in advance.

He wished they carpooled, but she was so busy. So he timed his arrival so that he was at the entrance door holding it open for her. When everyone left to get lunch, he heated up her food and brought it to her desk before leaving silently.

One day, there was a note on her dashboard saying she had a full tank of gas. When she arrived home after her second job, she noted her spare car key was on Harry’s key ring. At home, her laundry was in the wash. The shirts she didn’t like to put in the dryer were hung in the bathroom.

Harry could see it. She was cracking. It was the first time someone had done something for her it seemed. The first time someone so selflessly did things for her, anticipated her needs the way she anticipated everyone else’s.

Her throat felt tight as she looked at Harry in the kitchen, making her favorite dinner—a soup that took hours and hours to make.

He didn’t even know it was her birthday that day which made her heart feel sicker than ever.

“Poppy,” he smiled sweetly placing a bowl in front of her exhausted figure.

“Yeah?” She whispered.

If she wasn't so in awe, she would have realized where his tone was. What was coming next. “Go on a date with me, kitten.”

“I can’t.”

“S’not so hard,” he assured her. “You sit across from me and be yourself because m’already in love with you,” he reminded her sweetly. An impish grin on his pretty pink lips. That dimple she wanted to sink her tongue into on display. “I tell y’how stunning y’look, I pay for you t’eat. I feed you a dessert of your choosing that you’re probably too full t’eat and then I can kiss you wherever y’want. Lips, cheek, forehead,” he shrugged. “Then we come home, and I’ll read a chapter of your book. Y’can decide if y’want t’go on a second date.”

She giggled, her cheeks red. “I can’t, Harry,” she looked at him apologetically, but she felt herself melting as much as the soup warmed her insides. It was ridiculous to eat soup in the middle of the summer. But Harry made it for her anyway.

His heart deflated a little. He wasn't kidding. He was definitely in love. He had to be because there was no other way he could explain the feelings he had for her. Someone so thoughtful, so pretty, sweet, and funny.

Harry had asked her out at least a hundred times. Around Christmas, she got her hair cut and he always found her beautiful, but he asked her almost every day following her new hair style for a month straight. Each time she said she couldn't. She didn't date.

For the first time in the near year since he had first asked her, first met her, he realized she said she can’t go on a date with him. She didn’t date. That he was crazy.

Not that she didn’t want to. She didn’t say no.

Hope bloomed inside him.

She didn’t need anything. She didn’t need anybody. It was clear someone or maybe many had let her down so many times. He watched her doing everything she could to make this party as nice as humanly possible for Hailey. Not that Hailey didn’t deserve it, but no one had done anything like this for her. Harry only found out it was her birthday after the fact, and he felt like shit for it. Even though she assured him that was one of the best birthdays she ever had.

All he did was make her soup.

She deserved so much more.

It almost seemed too obvious that they hadn’t done anything for her remotely as lovely as she did.

“You’re staring, Styles,” she murmured without looking up from the chair while he lounged on the sofa.

“Go on a date with me,” he smiled.

She blushed, shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

“You haven’t said no.”

"I've said no about a hundred thousand times, Harry," she rolled her eyes.

Why was it now? Why did he want to tell her what he was thinking about the whole situation now? But it was in his chest. He had to say it. Had to tell her.

“No, you’ve never said no,” he shook his head and looked at her head on, while she continued looking at her to do list, her planner. Her poor neglected book waiting to be read by Harry because her tired eyes couldn’t. She looked up at him and smirked. Ready to protest once more, but Harry shook his head again. “I remember everything you've said t'me. I would remember a 'no,' it would probably kill me t’hear y’say, no kitten. Y'call me crazy, y'say y'can’t or that y'don’t date. Never, not once, have y'ever said y'don’t want t'go on a date with me. Nor a flat out no. So m'going t’keep asking until y'say y'don’t want to. Because I think you do want t'go out with me but for some reason y'don't want t'allow yourself t'be happy. T'let someone else in. M'not going t'stop asking. Not until I hear y'say "Harry Styles I would rather die than go on a date with you. I never want to go out with you." Maybe that makes me conceited or creepy. M’sure it does make me crazy. But I don’t care. I want t'go on a date with you. I want t'go on a million dates with you, actually. So m'not giving up until y'call me creepy or y'say y'don’t want to.”

She swallowed like there was something stuck in her throat. Her eyes didn't move from her lap.

"Kitten," he murmured. She didn’t look up. “Poppy,” he whispered. She finally met his green-eyed gaze again. His expression soft, pleading. “Go on a date with me,” his voice was soft. Harry swore his heart stopped beating because if he was wrong, if she really was saying no all those times, he wasn't sure he could ever stop asking her. The idea he would never get to take her out to eat and order her favorite dessert. He wouldn't see a movie and wrap his arm around her shoulders and that was completely unfair. He wanted to offer his jacket to her when it rained and hold her hand while walking through a museum. "Poppy," he repeated.

She bit her lip, her lips opening and closing like she wasn't sure which word was going to pop out. “I can’t,” she whispered. Her eyes looking at him in a way that he could read right through her. They screamed at him, please don’t stop asking me.

As if he could ever. Harry smiled. "Okay," he shrugged, hope and adoration for her flooding him. "I'll ask again tomorrow."

A sad smile graced her face. "You're crazy," she whispered again.

"Only 'bout you, Poppy.”

Harry felt like he was getting sick. Probably due to the sweet girl in his apartment who had worn herself so thin and weary that she had inadvertently brought illness home to him. His head was killing him. His pillow was calling for him the way he wished his favorite stubborn woman would call him.

He didn't even know if she was home. But honestly, he was glad. If she knew he was sick, she would dote on him. Even if she was starting to fell unwell. The thoughts of her were never too far from his mind. He would never be too sick, too lost, too far away from her that she could leave his thoughts.

Sleeping was one of his favorite hobbies because he loved to see her in his dreams. Loved to see the unaffected, carefree, beautiful, stubborn woman. The angel that enjoyed affection both giving and receiving.

It was his nightly dream. The one where she snuggled with him, and it was like they had been together twenty years and not zero. The one where he could taste her lips (even if in his dream she tasted like nothing) he knew it was wrong. She probably tasted like chocolate or caramel or something deliriously sweet.

Unfortunately, his phone vibrated below his pillow pulling him from his perfect beautiful dream.

“Harry?”

He squinted at his phone. Head aching, throat sore. Curious as to why he didn’t have the number saved. “Speaking.”

“Oh, thank god,” the voice sighed. “It’s Joey,” she said. “Harry. Something’s wrong. She won’t stop crying and she won’t say anything but your name.”

He leapt out of bed. Illness forgotten even if he was dizzy. His heart thudded like a chorus of drums, and he didn’t even grab shoes as he raced out of his room, snagging his wallet and keys off the counter as he exited the apartment.

He listened to Joey say a few more things. Something about being out at a club. She never left the bar area. There was no way someone had hurt her. But Harry drove through the night with his heart in his throat like someone had hurt her. He wasn’t sure seeing her would even calm him. He knew where Joey lived, fortunately, so he sped as quickly as he could. The ache in his head and his throat was lost behind him along the drive.

He didn’t knock as he hurried barefoot into Joey’s apartment. Matt was coming from the kitchen and making his way down the hall. He looked at Harry sadly as he approached the main room.

“Poppy?” he whispered as he entered the room, her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold herself together. "Kitten," he frowned and knelt in front of her. He picked her face up between his and he scanned her looking for signs of injury. Anxiety was in every inch of his body. But she fell into his arms before he could look any longer. Sobbing harder than when he entered. “M'here. M'here, baby. It’s okay. M'here," he kissed the top of her head, cupping the back of her head with one hand. The other arm winding around her and squeezing her tight to his body. “Oh kitten,” he sighed, sadness coating his voice. His heart ached. Like it was going to snap in half if she cried any longer. “M’sorry, baby. M'here. S’okay. Tell me. Please. I’ll make it better,” he promised.

Her sobs continued, like she was unable to speak. "Harry," she whimpered.

"M'here, Poppy, s'okay," he assured her even if it wasn't. "Baby," he frowned pulling away to look at her her tearful eyes. He tugged her back to his embrace and continued to soothe her. He rubbed his hand up and down her back hoping it was comforting as he hoped it was.

Harry caught Joey's eye, who looked over from the entryway and smiled weakly.

"You good?" She mouthed. Harry nodded and when he glanced back, her friend was gone.

Harry kissed the top of her head for the hundredth time. He continued rubbing his hand down her spine. His head was still screaming.

But she was well worth it. Her cheeks were streaked with salt lines. Her eyes puffy and red around the edges. He had pulled her to him so they could snuggle into the corner of the couch. Her body tucked between the back cushion and Harry's body. Like he didn't want anyone to see her if they entered the room.

“Harry?” Her voice was raw.

“Hmm?” He tucked her hair behind her ear and skimmed his fingertip along the same path repeatedly.

“Will you go on a date with me?” She whispered.

He smiled lazily. His heart exploding in his ribcage. “God, Poppy, I don't know. I have t'check m'schedule.” She smacked his chest with no weight behind it. He kissed the top of her head. “I’d take y’right now. Whenever y’want.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nothing t’be sorry for.”

"I have issues."

"We can work on them together."

"I don't know if you'll..." She trailed off.

"If I'll what?" He brushed his thumb on her cheek.

She took a deep breath. "I love love, Harry. I love watching people get married. I love when people have babies and grow a family. I want to have babies. I love reading romance novels and watching silly rom-coms where you can predict the ending before the movie even starts."

"Sounds pretty romantic and easy, Poppy," he murmured.

She swallowed continuing. "I will do a lot for you because I believe that's the way love is supposed to be. I want to make your life easier, and I want to do things that make you happy because I think happiness and love are in short supply and I want those books and rom-coms to be real."

Harry nodded. "Well—"

"I've never had that. I had a boyfriend for four years and..." she sniffled. "When we broke up, I said that I wouldn't do that again. I wouldn’t devote myself so completely to someone that wouldn't give me half as much. Then I met my next boyfriend and at first, I thought it was right, finally. It was equal. He loved me the right way, I mean. The way I thought I wanted, deserved... But then it was like he got tired of doing things. I don't know. Maybe my love language is acts of service. I don't know. I’m not making sense, I'm sorry. But..." she swallowed. "I broke it off after only two years that time. I just don't think I can be loved the right way... not forever. I don't know. I sound so selfish, don’t I? I don’t know why you want to go out with me so badly. I want someone to love me the way I love them, and I don’t think that’s...fair."

It was why she always had everything. Why she planned and hosted parties. Why she never drank and always took care of her friends. She loved everyone that was lucky to cross paths with her, with her whole, big, beautiful heart.

Harry tilted her chin up. "M’going to love you the right way,” he promised. “M’going to love you the way y’want because that's what y’deserve. If I love you anything less than you deserve then... well... I don't know what, Poppy. If that’s the case m’probably dead because s’the only possible explanation,” she snorted and tears dripped down her cheeks again but not like the night before. “But it's not going to be a problem, kitten. M’going to love you the way your books love. The way a rom-com loves. M’going to love you the way you love everyone that walks into your life. The way you so selflessly devote your kindness to them. M’going to love you the way you love," he promised. “Because s’an honor to love you,” he assured her. “S’an honor to be loved by you.”

She looked away from his gaze, closed her eyes and pressed her forehead to his chest. His throat was aching again. He was really tired, but he would suffer her wrath and frustration of going on about this later. He knew that she would be beside herself knowing he was sick and dealing with her anyway. But where else would he be? "Harry," she whispered finally. He met her eyes the back of his fingers skimming her cheek.

"What, Poppy?"

"Do you love me already?"

"Of course I do."

She sniffled, her face crumpling with relief. Like all of it had been a trick up until then. "Okay," she whispered. “Can we go home?”

“Course, kitten,” he kissed the top of her head and moved slowly to get up from the sofa. All of his muscles ached from sickness and from the awkward but perfect position of holding her all night in the cramped little space.

He held his hand out for her to take as she stood next. “Harry,” she whispered softly.

“Hmm?” He hummed and looked at her with a soft expression that made her stomach flip, her heart skipped a beat. "Yeah, Poppy?"

“I’m in love with you too.”

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

@kissitnhekitchen @kittenhere @stylesfever @indierockgirrl @michellekstyles

@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @madstyles3204

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden @me-undiscovered @you-sunshine

@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #independent #coworker!Harry #roommate!harry

2K notes · View notes

elysianightsss · 11 months ago

Text

Just a little price thot🥰🌸

You meet Price in a supermarket. Bumping right into him, more like slamming into him. The pint of chocolate ice cream and box of extra soft tisses that were safety tucked in your arms going all over the floor. Moving rather swiftly for a beefy man of his size, he quickly darts to the ground to grab the dropped items.

He’s so careful about the way he gives them back to you, holding them out to you with a small smile. The comfort items look so much smaller in his hands than they did in yours, he doesn’t even have them all the way out to you. They’re practically against his stomach, unconsciously encouraging you to come to him for them.

Then you look into his eyes and you think you feel your knees going weak, he definitely feels his buckling. The way you blink up at him with your pretty eyes all teary with smudged mascara and your soft lips formed into a sad little pout.

The words who did this he instinctively wants to say die on his tongue when he realises you aren’t his to protect, you don’t even know each other. Strangers, and he already wants to fight your battles without even know what they are.

“M’sorry.” You sniffle.

“Not a problem little darlin.” It’s a deep rumble from within his chest when he speaks. Thin lips curving up slightly, his bushy moustache moving with them, those thick mutton chops and that full beard catching your attention too. His voice is gruff and accented. You reckon you could listen to it every second of the day and never want for silence.

John was there from then on. He was just there, had inserted himself into your life, almost like a stray cat you feed once and suddenly it comes back everyday. This gorgeous older man had simply become a part of your day to day life.

You’re heading to work? He’s giving you a lift in his black chevy truck. You’re on your lunch break? He’s luring you outside for a cute little picnic in the park. You’re finishing work? He’s taking you back to your place and staying. He’s cooking you dinner, massaging your tired body. Lingering touches and longing stares. He wasn’t even trying to hide how much he fancied you.

Especially when it came to you dating other guys. He’d hate when you’d come home after a date, he’s in your apartment obviously waiting for you to return, and you’re all sad it didn’t work out. Questioning yourself and your worth or beauty. It would have Price’s ruggedly handsome face contorting in anger.

He would tell you no man would ever be good enough for you. He would also say no one was deserving of you. John would express that although he very much believed that, he would love it if you gave him the chance to try.

You would be so confused what he meant. Only understanding when he would hover over you, caging you in with his tall, burly figure and repeating the words “be mine” over and over again like a mantra.

He caught a look in your eyes at his words, similar to the one he saw when he first met you. It was clouded with confusion and want but it was there. Price knew. It was so obvious he wondered how no one else had seen it. But he knew, one look into your pretty eyes and he knew you needed taking care of. And the retired vet was more than happy to fill that role in your life.

2K notes · View notes

thehauntedetheral · 7 months ago

Text

Yan Sugar Daddy

Requests are open!

• You were a broke college student even after doing part time job. You wanted to earn more money so asked your friends for suggestions.

• One friend of yours suggested to get a sugar daddy from website. You were a bit scared as you have no idea and experience about this but after much convincing from your friend you made an account on the app.

• After scrolling a bit you thought It's very unlikely for any sugar daddy to show interest in you when the website was filled with drop dead gorgeous sugar babies available. You felt insecure and deleted the app forgetting to delete your account.

• You continued your college and part time job. Forgotten about your account still being active.

• While Yan Sugar Daddy scrolled through the app and your account caught his attention especially your photo. He thought you were beautiful and so simple. He sent you many messages on app but no reply. He would check the app many times a day in hope of seeing your reply. After many days passed and nothing from you he decided it's time to finally meet you in person.

• He got details about you through his mens. Your address, your college schedule, your part time job location, your birth place, your date of birth, your zodiac sign, your favourite ice cream flavour everything. This man made sure his team didn't leave anything.

• And hence here he is waiting for you at your college campus radiating money, power and glory through his work suit, and handsome face. Hell even the watch he is wearing is of the cost of your years of salary you thought.

•"Ms y/n?" He approached you while you were just stood like a statue there mouth open. How come this man is here you thought. You remember seeing his profile in a blur on app before deleting.

"Close your mouth, love. Or people might think I said something offensive to you" he said chuckling looking at your expression.

Seeing your uncomfortable expressions he offered to talk to you over a lunch in a nearby restaurant rather than in your college campus. You accepted it not wanting to create any gossip at college.

You both wear sitting in a fine dining one of the most expensive restaurant in city whose reservations are hard to get even for some elites. By saying a near by restaurant you thought about some local restaurant near your college campus not this. But nevermind it's his money not yours. His money his choice you thought.

• He explained how he wants to be your sugar daddy. When you didn't reply his next sentence was "I can double the weekly allowance if you want". But you still didn't accepted it. You told him how the account and everything was a mistake and that he should find some one else you explained and left. You were scared about this whole relationship even though you needed money.

• You left the place but not his mind. He would send you expensive flowers with notes, perfumes, wines of old collection to your address in hope of you accepting. He never got a no as answer. And he will make sure to convert your no to yes. no matter what it takes.

• What in the fifty shades of grey Christan grey the fuck is happening? You thought while continuously getting gifts from him.

• He even paid your college fees in advance for upcoming years.

• By all the constant stuff he was doing you finally said yes and signed a contract with him.

• You entered his world.

• Yan is definitely dominant and rough in sheets.

• Would tie you up, blindfolded you,pull your hair, overstimulate you until you are a begging, crying mess.

• Is kinky. Would put a vibrator in your cunt and control the speed via remote kept in his pocket while you both are dining outside. Enjoying seeing you trying to control your moans.

• Is very protective of you. Someone tried to flirt with you? Would definitely make his security team beat him up till they are unconscious.

• You liked him while this man was crazy in love with you.

• Would spoil you with gifts, jewellery, dresses, perfumes, flowers, dates, vacations, handbags, shoes anything you want. Hell even his black card is with you most of the time because he says so.

• Kisses you any chance he gets.

• Makes you move into his penthouse so that he could spend more time with you.

• Carriers you in his arms whenever you are drunk afraid that you will fall with your high heels.

• Helps in wearing your heels.

• Is a gentleman in public and an freak in sheets.

• You looked at something for too long during shopping next day it's getting delivered to you. ( This man is god level rich and doesn't even think about the cost when it comes to you)

• You always wanted to go to paris? Well let's go darling his private jet is ready.

• This man is utterly whipped for you. Would do anything for you.

• You came into this arrangement to pay off your college and since your graduation is near and so is the contract expiry.

• You decided to part ways after graduation and contract expiration. When you tell him about your decision. He is absolutely devasted. Did he not love you enough? You are his everything. How could you even think about leaving him??

• This man has hired a professional proposal planner to propose you to be his wife and you are thinking about parting ways? Good joke baby. Good joke. But this is not gonna happen. The only way you are leaving this contract is with your last name changed to his and your finger bearing his engagement ring.

• And even if you rejected the proposal despite all of it he can trap you with him by his baby he thought with an evil smirk.

Requests are open!

For more yandere reading:

3K notes · View notes

figthoughts · 8 days ago

Text

manhandle — dean winchester ༢ུ࿓

warnings: smut, oral (f. receiving), loverboy!dean, gentle manhandling, est. relationship (soft dom!bf!dean x gf!reader) 18+

inspired by this anon here .ᐟ

⟢ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹

dean was always touching you. he simply just couldn’t help himself. you were his comfort. his person. his home. the one thing in this world that was entirely and unequivocally his.

and so the flirty little touches—like a hand that lingers just a few seconds too long on your back or on your thigh—had become your comfort. your constant. your grounding force. they were just so quintessentially dean.

the two of you had been following up on some leads about the case you were working on. dean had been all over you all day as usual, but considerably more so when you had been interviewing a group of young college guys about a victim. dean didn't like how the three guys had been staring at you, eyeing you up and down like a piece of meat. you noticed the sharp look dean gave them and felt a possessive hand pressed against your lower back, making its way down to your hip, resting there comfortably.

you couldn't help but smile a little as their faces dropped, averting their eyes from both you and dean. it was funny, and a thing you were used to—seeing dean show you off and claim you so proudly in front of others. you enjoyed it, how touchy and jealous your boyfriend was.

it continued with playful little pinches to your ass throughout the day and his arm lazily slung over your shoulders during lunch in the little run-down diner you'd found, still eagerly showing you off as his to anyone that looked your way. dean had obviously just been excited to work the case alone with you for the day after dropping off sam at the local library to research the town’s history.

after the three of you had gone back ‘n forth and figured out what had been killing the townsfolk—a very pissed-off vengeful spirit—you and dean jumped into the impala, ready to pick up sam and dust the evil son of a bitch. the actual hunt itself had been quite simple, burning the bones of the spirit in an old-timey cemetery. quick and easy.

dean eventually pulled the impala up just outside of the motel room. you, sam and dean all tiredly stumbled out into the crisp night air with satisfied smiles on your faces, glad to have put that case behind you and protected the town from letting anyone else get hurt.

as you began to make your way back to the room, dean’s hands wrapped around your waist. you let out a soft squeal as he picked you up, carrying you bridal style in his arms.

“gotcha,” he teased with a smirk. you could feel his strength and the warmth of his body pressed against yours. you felt safe in his arms. he felt like home.

sam looked at you both and instantly recognised the look on dean’s face. he sighed and made some excuse to leave, mentioning something about getting his own room for the night so he “could actually get some sleep.”

sam walked off, and you couldn’t help but laugh as the adrenaline continued to simmer through your veins. dean’s grip on you was firm and secure, but also gentle—like you were some fragile little thing he was holding—as he carried you through the parking lot.

as you got inside the motel room, dean pinned you up against the back of the door. he pressed his body against yours and looked at you with a keen grin, “you’re so beautiful, baby. so strong and smart.”

a warm smile spread across your face as dean gently cupped your cheek. you could see the love in his expression; you could feel it in his gaze.

you almost instinctively leaned into his touch and looked into his sparkling green eyes. “so are you, dean,” you replied, your voice low and soft with a hint of amusement in your tone. you could feel the tension between you both, the high from the hunt still coursing through your bodies.

you swore you could almost see dean blush at your words. he let his hand trace down your cheek to your jaw, grasping it gently. he tilted your head to meet his intense gaze. dean took a few silent moments to just look at you, letting his eyes drift over your features as the grin softened on his lips. it was times like this when dean could hardly believe you were his.

he kept ahold of your jaw; his grip was possessive, but there was an undeniable tenderness behind it. he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, so many unspoken words moving between the two of you. the world around you faded away as his lips moved with yours, igniting those sparks that helped light that familiar warmth in your lower stomach.

your lips moved in time together, your tongues tangling and dancing in your mouth. you let out a soft moan, and you felt dean’s lips curve into a smile against your own. his hand dropped down to your throat, his fingers gently wrapping around it—not tight enough to hurt you, but firm enough to feel your pulse beating below his fingertips.

dean broke the kiss and looked at you once again. his gaze was loving, but you could see the need in his blown-out pupils. you leaned your head back as you panted, almost subconsciously submitting to him and his touch.

“can i make you feel good?” he asked, his voice a low murmur, “need to make you feel good.”

you swallowed softly, your throat bobbing under his hand. “please,” you breathed out with a slow nod, “need you to make me feel good.”

dean’s smile grew, reflecting the soft grin on your own face. wordlessly, dean grabbed your thighs and hoisted you up around him. he pressed gentle kisses along your jawline as he walked you over to the bed, his arms wrapped around you, caging you against his torso.

he laid you down underneath him on the mattress. you looked up at him with big soft eyes, taking in how handsome he looked, despite the obvious exhaustion tugging at his features. he pulled off his flannel and shirt in two quick movements before settling in between your legs.

“been thinking about having you like this since we killed that fucking ghost,” dean muttered as his lips found their way back to your neck.

you let out a huff of amusement and lifted your hand to play with the hair at his nape, “mmm, me too.”

dean’s mouth moved down your jaw, sucking on the soft skin at your pulse points along your neck. you moaned quietly, letting your eyes fall shut. dean hummed against your neck, leaving light pink marks wherever he could.

dean finally pulled away and admired his work on your delicate skin. you looked so beautiful; your hair all messy, your lips still swollen, and now your neck all marked up with little bruises. dean groaned to himself, feeling so incredibly lucky that the beautiful creature below him was his.

his hands found the hem of your shirt. “off. now.” he said firmly, but with a hint of desperation to his voice.

you sat up as dean moved back to give you some room. he helped you peel off your shirt, slowly exposing more of your skin to him. his smile grew once again as he looked at you. “you’re so fucking beautiful,” he commented again as his hands unhooked your bra and pulled it off you.

you couldn’t help the blush that warmed your cheeks as your bra hit the floor beside the bed. dean immediately attached his mouth to your tits, kissing and biting at them, leaving more little marks in his wake.

soft moans and sighs left your lips, your hands once again playing in his short sandy hair. you tugged on it gently, and dean groaned. he looked up at you with a smirk on his lips, “what are you doin’, huh? pulling my hair?”

he grabbed your wrists and held them down against the mattress as his tongue flicked over your nipples. “relax, baby,” he muttered against your skin.

you let out little gasps as he nibbled at you. you didn’t struggle against his grip; instead, you relaxed underneath him and let him carry on kissing and marking up your chest.

his hands held your wrists down firmly against the sheets as he kissed further down your body, groans leaving his lips in response to your soft little noises.

dean kissed and bit his way to the button of your jeans. he glanced up at you, silently asking for permission. you nodded slowly, your eyes on his, and he let go of your wrists, his hands moving to undo your jeans. you kept your wrists by your sides, just watching him with a small smile.

dean pulled your jeans down your legs, leaving you in just your panties. he groaned dramatically and looked back up at you, “fuuuck, i’m so lucky.”

you chuckled softly and shifted your head on the pillow as you looked at him. “i’m so lucky,” you retorted.

he smiled sheepishly and shook his head in response as his fingers hooked under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them off your body. instinctively, you clamped your legs together. dean smirked and shook his head again, “no, baby. don’t do that. don’t be shy. i know you’re not shy.”

your cheeks blushed at his words, and you smiled as he gently coaxed your thighs apart with his hands.

“keep them open for me,” he said firmly, his eyes flickering up to meet yours. his eyes were dark, and you could feel the desire radiating off of him in waves. you nodded without a word and let your legs fall open for him.

he groaned when he looked down at the sight of your glistening cunt, “oh, god…”

dean shuffled back into a more comfortable position between your legs, his lips kissing at the skin of your thighs. he nipped at you gently, once again peppering more little marks across your skin.

he moved closer to your core and finally dove in, flicking his tongue against your slick heat, earning a whimpery gasp from you. his eyes shot up to meet yours as his tongue lapped at your clit, kissing, biting and sucking at it. dean couldn’t help the little groans that escaped him as he watched your face begin to flush and scrunch in pleasure.

your hips rolled into his face as he sped up his ministrations between your thighs, his tongue flicking over your swollen bud faster. the moans and gentle little sighs that left your mouth sounded like heaven to dean. he wrapped his arms around your thighs and held you down as you got closer and closer to the edge.

“keep still, sweetheart,” he muttered against your heat, holding down your hips while they flailed around erratically from the building pleasure.

a pathetic whine left your mouth at his muttered words. you tried to move your hips and thighs, desperately searching for your release. dean moaned in response to your neediness and kept lapping at your pussy, wanting to push you over the edge.

you could feel the coil tightening in your stomach. you were so close to just cumming on his tongue. your back arched up off the bed and filthy moans were ripped from your lungs as dean slid two fingers into your cunt, curling them up and pressing them against that spongey little spot that made you see stars.

“d-dean!” you whined and threw your head back against the pillow, “fuck, so close…”

dean hummed against your clit, the vibrations tightening that tense feeling in your stomach. your hips kept trying to move, searching for more, needing more.

“be still,” dean murmured against your cunt, his fingers curling faster into you. he moved his free hand from around your thigh to your stomach, draping it over your hips to hold you down firmer.

you whined again and clenched around his fingers, “dean… fuck!”

your walls fluttered around his fingers as your release grew closer and closer, the coil in your stomach tightening as his mouth continued its assault on your pussy.

dean moaned against your delicate folds at the way you let your body flail around so desperately for him. he kept his arm draped over you, holding you down as your hips battled against his strength. he lapped at your pussy more intentionally, his tongue circling your clit roughly and expertly.

loud moans flew past your lips as your release washed over you. your pussy clamped down around dean's fingers, gushing over them as he kept up his curling motion, pushing you through your orgasm. his tongue stayed latched to your pussy, practically sucking out the moans and whimpers from your lungs.

as your thighs shook and your hips twitched, dean slowly removed his fingers and sat up onto his knees with a wide grin. “you're so needy tonight, sweetheart. s’making me go crazy seeing you like this,” he hummed, bringing his hand covered in your slick to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean. you clamped your legs together at the sight, feeling the desire rapidly burn through your body as your heart thumped against your ribcage.

dean smirked, chuckling as he leaned over you, trapping you against the mattress. “gonna take you and give you what you need, my pretty girl. gonna make you feel so good,” he said, his voice low and hoarse, but with that hint of cockiness, like he knew he was going to blow your mind.

you panted, still coming down from your climax, as you nodded at his words and watched him begin to pull off his belt. his hands made quick work with his pants, discarding them on the floor with your clothes. you smiled a little lazily, admiring him in the low lighting of the motel room.

“what’s that look for, huh?” he questioned with that everlasting smirk on his face. he kept his eyes on you as he pulled down his boxers, letting his pretty pink erection spring free and bounce against his stomach.

you had to physically hold back a moan at the sight. you hummed instead and found his darkened green eyes. “nothing... just need you,” you muttered softly.

dean chuckled lowly to himself and returned to his position above you. “yeah, you need me?” he asked, tilting his head, his lips just inches above yours. he watched your flustered state with an amused expression on his face, feeling his cock throb at the way he could make you crumble so easily beneath him. he needed you so badly. he needed you desperately in this flushed needy little state.

you nodded in response to his question, and his lips found your neck again, this time kissing a little softer as he muttered against your skin between kisses, “my baby needs me, huh? gotta make her feel good then.”

he rubbed his cock against the inside of your thigh, just teasing you. you shifted your hips, your body moving on its own, searching for relief for your aching core.

you groaned softly, “dean, please… c’mon.”

dean grinned at your plea, his cock rubbing against your throbbing slit. he grabbed himself, teasingly brushing his pink tip against your clit. pathetic mewls spilled out of your mouth and you glared weakly at him, “dean!”

his sparkling green eyes found yours as he teased you with his cock, tapping your clit one last time. “alright,” dean muttered and prodded your entrance with his tip. he kept his eyes on your face as he slowly pushed himself inside you, inch by inch, your soaking pussy lubricating his stiff cock and welcoming him in.

your wet heat greedily sucked him in, your tight walls fluttering around his length. you gasped and arched your back, feeling him stretch you out slowly.

“that’s it,” he cooed, “take it. just like that.”

as dean bottomed out inside your needy cunt, his hands grabbed at your wrists, pinning them above your head, a wicked grin dancing on his face as he hovered above you.

you looked up at him with a pout, your hips moving a little, dying for him to do something. you tested his grip on your wrists. “uh uh uh,” dean tutted, his grip tightening, “we’re gonna do this my way, alright? be good, baby.”

despite your pout, you nodded and watched as he pulled his hips back. he slid back into your pussy, filling the room with filthy squelching sounds as he slowly built a pace, his bulbous pink tip kissing your cervix with every thrust. little slurred moans escaped you as you felt every little vein of his brush against your walls.

“yeah, that's it. so fucking warm and wet. just for me, huh?” dean groaned out with a grin, enjoying how you were already falling apart for him. he watched your jaw drop in pleasure from his quick pace, his hand subconsciously tightening around your wrists.

you nodded pathetically in response as he stretched you out with his thick length. “mmm, only for you,” you replied.

dean let out a rough moan at your words, a warm fuzzy feeling clenching at his chest. god, how he loved you.

he moved faster and deeper into you, and his breath began to become slightly more laboured. “so good. you’re being so good for me...” he grunted out between thrusts.

you felt your walls flutter once again at his praise as your second orgasm built, the familiar heat pooling in your core. you rocked your hips to meet his thrusts, encouraging him to pound deeper into your desperate cunt.

“ahh, shit,” he moaned out, feeling you rut against him.

dean let go of your wrists, instead grabbing your hips and pulling them up, arching your back up off the bed. you mewled loudly at the new angle, at the delectable way you could feel him even deeper inside you.

his cock began to brush roughly against your gspot, forcing your walls to flutter around him. dean kept up with his quick thrusts, feeling himself begin to lose composure as his balls tightened at the feeling of your slick heat around him.

“oh, fuck,” he grunted, rocking your hips up to meet his, keeping your back arched up off the bed, “gonna paint your pussy white with my children, baby. swear to god.”

you could barely register what was going on. you looked up at dean’s flushed face with blurred vision from the tears brimming in your eyes. you mewled at the way he bit his lip, trying to stifle his moans that were threatening to spill out.

dean’s ruts into your cunt became quicker and sloppier as both of you veered on the edge of your orgasms. his tight grip on your hips was sure to leave bruises, though you didn’t care; the pleasure in itself was enough to let him bruise you all over. dean tugged your lower half even further up into his lap, his cock burying even deeper in your walls.

“ahhh, shi— shit! i’m cumming,” he sputtered out. a strangled moan bubbled up dean’s throat as he finally spilled into your soaked heat, his warm ropes of cum stuffing your weeping pussy.

dean’s release set off your own. you jerked your hips back and forth as he kept thrusting into you, pushing his seed further into your tight hole. you whimpered and whined your way through your high, gushing around his length.

dean’s green eyes watched in sheer reverence as your face scrunched up and your body flailed about in his grip.

“fuck… fuuuck, baby,” he panted, his thrusts finally coming to a still, his mouth agape as his chest rose and fell.

the salty little tears in your eyes finally escaped as you came down from your climax, dampening your flushed cheeks. you panted as you returned his gaze.

“oh, shit, sweetheart. you alright?” dean asked quietly, gently lowering you back down onto the mattress. he slipped out of your core with a quiet hiss, and you felt his seed begin to drip out of you.

“m’alright,” you managed to reply in return. you brought a hand to wipe the tears from your pink cheeks.

dean shook his head and pulled your hands away, instead wiping your tears with his own hands. “you sure? that wasn’t too much?”

“no,” you breathed out, letting his tender touch drift over your face, “that was perfect, dean.”

he nodded at your words and sat back on his knees, letting his eyes fall over your worn out body. “it was, baby. you’re perfect,” he murmured and rubbed at your thighs. he let his gaze fall down to your heat, watching the pearly white liquid escape your wet folds.

“jesus, you really are perfect,” dean repeated. he squeezed the fat of your thighs, and his eyes flickered back up to yours, searching them. his face softened as he silently took in how beautiful you looked.

dean slowly leaned over you, pressing gentle kisses to your jaw and neck, tasting the salty flavour of your sweat on his tongue—not minding the taste at all.

“let me look after you,” he murmured almost pleadingly against your neck, “let me run you a bath, sweetheart.”

you hummed and closed your eyes, enjoying the feeling of his lips on your skin. “mm’kay,” you nodded, “a bath with you and then we get takeout and eat in here?”

dean huffed a laugh against your neck, “baby, you read my mind. bath and then pizza in bed, how does that sound?”

“perfect.”

“mm, perfect,” he echoed back, “alright, let me get you up.”

dean pressed one final kiss below your ear and pulled back, smiling down at you. he looked so incredibly in love, and it made your heart stutter in your chest.

you returned the smile, and dean hopped off the bed, wiping the sweat from his forehead, before scooping your boneless body up into his arms. your warm sticky skin stuck together as he walked into the bathroom, pressing soft tender kisses to the side of your head.

“i love you so much, y’know?” he mumbled into your hair as he kicked the bathroom door shut with his foot.

“yeah, ‘course i know. i love you too, dean.”

fig yaps: okay so this took ages to write,, it lived in my drafts for like three months cause i never write longer things (blame the adhd!!!) and i feel like it’s not even that manhandle-y LMAODKSJK anyways i love dean that’s all !!

reblogs and feedback are welcome and encouraged! thank uuu <3

✩ taglist: @chevroletdean @fitxgrld @jasvtsc @bluestrd @1-imbroglio @titsout4jackles @faithfulsofi @tortureddarkstar @abellmunsonmovie @legalmente-loca @theoneandonlystonedspiderman420 @manicjk @aileenunfiltered @minettacreekk @winchester-whiskey @emeraldcrs @freyabear @floralscented @cosmopolitan-thedrink @jwritestuff @suhnisideup @spookyysinsanity @kimxwinchester @bleuatlas @deansbbyx @angelicjackles @deansbeer @artemys-ackles @bluemerakis @misatxox @star-yawnznn @ambiguous-avery @starzify @whisperingdaze @dulcescorderitas @deanswidow @psychicnatural @ghostlyaccurate @k-slla

↑ comment to be added/removed!

676 notes · View notes

quarterlifekitty · 13 days ago

Note

So, I have thoughts about blue collar!Simon.

Picture this: one day, after eating your boyfriend’s his lunch, he’s outside making a voice memo for the job when he hears some of the boys coming back from lunch. They can’t see Simon from where’s he standing.

One of the newer guys asks your ungrateful boyfriend why he went out today. He saw him bring food from home? Your boyfriend plays it off, saying he lets you do stuff like that for him since it means you’ll nag less. Besides, you’re just a placeholder until his ex gets her head out of her ass and comes crawling back to him.

At that Simon is enraged. How dare this boy, he won’t call him a man, talk about you like that. On the other hand, this will make things easier for him. He already has a better position in the company, he’s larger than your soon-to-be-ex, he’ll take better care of you.

And, if you’re still not convinced your boyfriend’s a POS…the recording he just took of the conversation should help you along.

Y’know, in some ways? I imagine reader’s current bf to be apathetic and insidious.

Like, I imagine that when he talks about her, there’s no love in his voice, obviously. He never calls you beautiful, or says he misses you— never even talks shop with his friends about his favorite parts of your body. No, he barely thinks of you at all. And when his friends ask?

He says he’ll probably end up marrying you with such a casual tone. Like someone asked him if he’s gonna get curly fries or waffle fries later. Says you’re not bad looking, don’t refuse sex, and you’re good at keeping house. Besides— if the marriage gets a little dull, he could always keep something going in the side. It’s just so convenient to have you.

Simon detests seeing waste. And knowing that this shitheel is planning to chain you to him forever just on a whim? Just because it seems easy? That gets his blood boiling. That he’s content to let you make these beautiful meals for him for the rest of your life when he doesn’t even love you. That’s the ultimate offense to him.

So yeah. Once he teaches you what a real man does for sweet things like you— your ex is gonna find his belongings burned and a pink slip of paper from the construction firm.

#writing #cod fanfic #cod #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #bluecollar!simon

629 notes · View notes

tbaluver · 2 months ago

Text

New Years Kisses- The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: xavier x reader, zayne x reader, rafayel x reader, sylus x reader summary: spend the night of new years eve with your lover a/n: hihi lovelies! i apologize if this does nawt make sense and if it's cheesy af..i wanted to make something for the end of the year and end the year with something romantical (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡ happy new years to everyone ! hoping this year is filled with more happiness and luv ( ๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و ♡

divider creds, @/ strangergraphics any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Neither of you wanted to be in the crowded city where people rush to find the best spot for the fireworks. The noise and the chaos of the crowd did not feel like the right place to end the year together. Instead, you both seek refuge in the park where luckily not a lot of people had the same idea.

Xavier helps you spread the picnic blanket across the soft grass before you settle down beside each other. He'd drape an extra blanket over the two of you as you nestle closer into him while you both wait together as the minutes pass by slowly.

While you wait, he'd entertain you with his evol. Tiny orbs of light flickered in the air as if they were fireflies floating around the two of you.

As time passed, the distant sound of fireworks began to stir in the air. One by one different variations of colors and shapes fill the sky, the fireflies around you both disappearing under the vibrant lights above you.

Clicking your phone open to find out just one more minute to new years, another year with your lover. You rest your forehead against his until the seconds strike to midnight. His lips finally meeting yours softly, the warmth of your lips enveloping his.

May our days ahead be as bright and beautiful as this moment with you.

Zayne:

Zayne has never been the type to go to parties. He often rejects his colleagues' invitations without hesitation and with some kind of excuse. But things had changed ever since you came into his life, for the better of course. Ever since you two started dating, he’d start showing up to gatherings to his colleagues' surprise.

They had never seen him smile so often whenever you dropped by to bring him lunch or to simply just have a chat with him or how he would actually go home on time just to be with you. They were even more surprised to see him attend the New Year’s party they hosted but they couldn’t hide their happiness for both of you to be there.

At the snack bar, Zayne chats with Greyson, nibbling on macarons while Greyson follows your warning and makes sure that he doesn’t dare sip any sweet alcoholic drink. You were across the room, chatting with Yvonne and with some of the other nurses but his eyes kept flicking over to you as you talked. Your gaze met, a small smile curled up at the corner of his lips as you excuse yourself from the conversation to approach him. Greyson takes the sign, excuses himself and leaves you two alone.

“Would you like to come outside?” At first you wondered if he wasn’t feeling well but there was something in his eyes that made you think something else.

The venue was large and the garden outside was stunning. It reminded you of the garden he plans to have with you once he has the time to nurture it. “We’ll miss the fireworks Zayne,” you pouted, turning around to look back at the crowd disappearing behind you as you both wandered deeper into the garden.

3 2 1 happy new year! the countdown of the crowd echoes far behind you two.

He softly chuckles, making sure to stop at the spot where your favorite flowers bloomed. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his gaze locked with yours as he gently cups your cheek. He leans down, capturing your soft lips with his as the fireworks pops in the background.

May our love continue to grow for all the years to come

Rafayel:

New Year's Eve had become a bore all thanks to Thomas, who ruined both of your plans by setting up Rafayel for an event that was known to be one of the biggest one of the year. It was filled with celebrities, critics, and most importantly buyers. Neither of you wanted to be there. Endless parade of people continue to talk to him about his latest artwork or ask him about his future plans. It was all too much. He just wanted to be with you.

You spent the whole night separated as the crowd pulled him away again and again. But when Rafayel finally manages to escape from the recent group, he grabs your hand and you both slip away from the event, laughing as you run down the street.

Rafayel leads the way, your hand firmly in his, the scent of the beach drifting you both with each step. His tie hung loosely around his neck and a few of his buttons were undone. The cool night air brushed against your skin as laughter bubbles between the two of you.

As you reach a secluded part of the beach, far away from the noise and chaos, Rafayel turns to you, his eyes sparkling in the moonlight. He lifts you off the ground effortlessly, spinning you around, your foreheads touching.

He leans in closer, his thumb lightly grazing your cheek. His lips brushed against yours softly, “One for the past,” he murmurs. Before you can react, he leans back in again, fireworks exploding in the distance. “And one for the present,” he whispers against your lips.

For all the years we have ahead, may they be as sweet as tonight.

Sylus:

The N109 zone was apparently coming down with hard fog so no fireworks can be seen during the night. Luckily Sylus had no plans during the new years but however he is not being caught down in the city in Linkon with that crowd, making him clutch his pearls.

With just an easy pick of the lock using his evol, you two were found in one of the highest buildings to have the best view of the fireworks, just the two of you alone. You two draw small figures in the snow until some fireworks exploded early.

Little did you know he had some shapes of fireworks planned out for you. One a crow and one a dove that symbolized you two both and he couldn’t help but softly chuckly seeing your awe expression as the bright colors reflect in your eyes.

“it’s so pretty sy!”

“it sure is.” he says not leaving his eyes on you.

As the voices below began to countdown the final seconds to midnight, the air between you two thickened with anticipation. Without a word you leaned in closer, your faces drawing together. The final seconds to the new year ticked away as Sylus’s lips meet yours, his hand sliding to the back of your head to deepen the kiss.

To an eternity of happiness with you

606 notes · View notes

kquil · 4 months ago

Note

Request: Remus Lupin x ravenclaw!girlfriend!reader

Plot: Just them appropriately loving on each other, chaste kisses on shoulders and wrists while sitting in positions that may not look innocent, but it doesn’t go farther them that?

I don’t usually ask for bland ones, but some peace would be nice.

SIMPLE LOVING

LENGTH : 0.7k

TAGS : fluff ; remus being smitten ; feeding each other ; couple goals ; tickle fight

NAVI.

“How was Herbology, Rem?” you ask, sitting between his outstretched legs under the willow tree as it cried over the black lake. It was lunch break and because it was one of the lovelier days outside, you and your boyfriend decided to have lunch picnic-style along with the rest of his friends. Your group were also free to join, as always, and sat not too far from where you were comfortably melded against Remus, who lent back against the willow tree’s trunk. The both of you were cradled by its roots and shaded relatively well by its mourning silhouette. It was a perfect day.

“It wasn’t bad,” Remus mumbles against your hair before pressing a brief kiss against your temple. Straining your neck only slightly, you share a smile before relaxing into one another once more, “how was Charms?” he asks, wrapping one arm around your torso as his other hand extends out to your right and pulls the small plate of lunch you brought out from the dinner hall. Remus had done the same but hadn’t touched his lunch yet. He prioritises yours and begins to feed unprompted. Caring for you comes so easily to him.

In between mouthfuls, you reiterate the happenings of your Charms class. Remus didn’t care if the conversation got boring or had extended pauses, he merely enjoyed being around you. He also really enjoyed tending to your needs in small gestures. People often saw him carrying your heavy books to classes, helping you with your assignments and carrying spare hair ties on his wrists for you. Boys didn’t appreciate his setting of the standard and girls envied you for having such a considerate lover.

“The flick and swish always gets me. There’s no standard for it so the outcome is always variable. The others made it look easy but I’ll show them and master that charm soon enough,” Remus smiles at your attitude and rids your pout by offering another spoonful. He loves listening to you talk. He loved hearing the sound of your voice; it was one of the most beautiful sounds he could hear. Whenever you got to talking, he always made sure to be completely silent and gave your words special attention. Oftentimes, whenever he’s reading his academic books for references and pre-reading relevant material before classes, your voice would be the one reading out the verses in his mind — that way, learning became a little more enjoyable and he got through the material much quicker. You finish up your plate of lunch soon enough and lovingly turn your face to kiss his inner wrist in gratitude.

“Your turn, Rem,” you giggle and reach for his neglected plate of lunch. Smiling warmly, Remus observes as you turn in place before moving to straddle his lap. Naturally, his large hands move to hold your hips and you begin to feed him bite after bite.

In the background, your friends gape obnoxiously at the affectionate display, some burn bright red in the cheeks and others hurriedly look away. It was incredibly easy to mistake your activities for something much as the willow tree’s roots cradled your forms and obscured your lower halves. However, your innocent feeding of his lunch was all the indication they needed to know you weren’t doing anything beyond that.

“You’re a mischievous little minx, you know that, darling?” Remus muses, licking his lips as you set down his finished plate.

“Hmm?” you tilt your head innocently and lean down for a kiss, licking away the remnants of his lunch from his lips as you pull away, “What do you mean, Rem? I don’t know what you’re talking about,”

He laughs at your playful display and carefully throws you off him, to the grass. As you lay on your back, giggling sweetly, he leans over your form and captures your lips in a heated kiss. A stray hand traces the curves of your waist and hips as the other keeps him hovering above you. He never goes too far with intimacy, especially in such a public place but you savour the scandalised gasps of your distant friends. Your handsome boyfriend pulls away with a hidden smirk and buries his face into your neck, kissing your sensitive skin and tickling the area with his nose.

“Remus!” you squeal in delight, laughing as brightly as the sun overhead. His wondering hand and the loving kisses to your neck and shoulder had quickly divulged into a tickle attack. Onlookers stare on, envious of such a loving and harmonious relationship.

“Lily, can we—”

“No!”

NAVI.

A/N : i'm so sorry it took me such a long time to get to this request, my love, i was in a rut with requests for such a long time and i kept overthinking them all. I'm afraid i don't make any explicit mentions of reader being a ravenclaw but it's still fluffy and cute and perfectly sweet for you x

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfiction #marauders #marauders era #the marauders #remus lupin x you #📝 : request

751 notes · View notes

drgnflyteabox · 1 month ago

Text

red ochre [4]

series masterlist previous || part four -> orchil || part five -> kermes

> summary: double-edged swords, field trips, and wolf figurines > tags/warnings: religious & sexual guilt / shame, stockholm syndrome, inner turmoil, suicidal thoughts (minor), violent thoughts, oral (f), dubcon/noncon, stockholm syndrome, reader says "stop" / "no" but johnny continues, reader has some puritanical ideas about sex (virtue, virginity) but shes a nun so give her a break, power imbalance, thoughts of death/afterlife, self hatred, "little" used affectionately not as a size indicator lol

You wake up to the sound of a childs’ babbles the next morning, disoriented and confused - had sister Margery taken in another orphan girl to raise up in the convent? The softness of the bed beneath you betrays your confusion, rocking you slowly into reality as you blearily open your eyes.

Johnny sits at the table, cooing to a baby on his knee. He bounces them as they make sounds, soft happy ones that contrast with his muscles and scars and hair. In your observation of him you think about how a man so coarse-looking could be so soft to lay against, how he could go from sweet to firmer than stone in a moment. How his hands held you down not two days past, and soothed the skin that still ached as you shifted in bed now.

A conflicted series of emotions had risen in you since, and though something had calmed inside you, the primary tide was a pervasive sense of shame and it tended to overpower everything else.

“Who's that?” Johnny says, his voice high-pitched. “Is that my wife?”

He's cooing to the child, but still you burn and twist with too many things to dwell on lest you go mad.

Simon is nowhere to be found, but that's not been unusual in these winter mornings.

“Who's this?” You murmur, sitting up. Your woolen shift is warm, a soft red colour dyed by one of the village women that Johnny told you he'd traded for specially. Red ochre, he’d said, fingering the cloth. A beautiful muted red kind of colour.

A little like dried blood.

“Gaz's bairn,” Johnny says. “His house is gettin’ invaded by some rowdy boys, and the lasses’ are at the river.”

He must see the confusion on your face, because he adds, “boys are gettin’ ready for a hunting party.”

The baby shrieks, clapping clumsily as Johnny lifts a carved wooden toy up to them. He crinkles his eyes, looking between you and the baby. You want to discourage whatever thoughts he's having, so you stand and move to the fire, away from his wandering blues.

“Should I make something?” You don't dare look at him.

“So sweet of ye,” Johnny hums. “The baby eats eggs.”

You nod.

As you steadily become more awake, thoughts begin to cloud your mind.

Guilt is strange; it spreads like a plague, tainting anything you've decided to take some control of. Cooking, chores, talking cautiously with the men or allowing your heart to soften. The poison has grown from your first peak, spreading outward from your core and into your mind, leaving you worse off.

Simon hadn't done anything else, nor had Johnny. You'd cooked them lunch and breakfast, asked for sewing equipment for mending and receiving it promptly after. From Gaz's woman, Johnny had said. She says hello. Any contact outside of Johnny or Simon hadn't once crossed your mind, especially not since having sat on Simon's lap at the feast like a prize.

But you were a prize, a stolen woman, taken to wife. However you spun the narrative it was hard to get past that fact and harder still to get past that it might fulfill something inside you that nothing else could or could've. That perhaps you were tainted, and the taking had been because they saw it in you somehow. Sniffed the false servant of God as you worked, not anything by coincidence but guided by some instinct that told them you were just as bad.

Your little book, the one you missed dearly, the one piece of physical evidence that damned you.

Though God had never spoken to you back, you'd imagined in the convent that when you passed he'd simply show you the blasphemous, lustful evidence of your filthy mind and send you to burn.

Now you knew that He wouldn't have to do that. You'd simply burn without any chance, damned worse now by your treacherous cunt.

“-nun? Where's my little nun gone?” You turn, startled. The eggs are crisp, and darkening by the second.

You hurry to pull them out of the hot fat as Johnny watches you, still cooing and bouncing.

“Sorry,” you slide him a nearly burnt egg. “Can the baby still eat them?”

“Should be fine,” he tears the egg with his fingers, offering tiny pieces.

It's hard, but not too tough or burnt. Just browned, fried and crispy. You wonder if this could count as a sin, how nearly wasting food would weigh against coming on the fingers of a viking heathen.

The hopelessness gets you sometimes, gets you as you try to sleep and in moments like these. What option do you have? Adapt, or what? Sure, it's probably better to take advantage of their lack of extreme violence and make your predicament as best as possible, especially without an escape route and without the strength to fight them.

You feel watched, judged, observed on all sides. Giving in and navigating how to be a viking wife might be better than resisting forever, but the unseen eye of divine judgement and its gaze rests heavily on you. In fact, it's like it seeps into you through your skin and connects with the shame to compound both feelings.

“There she goes again,” Johnny says, but you hear him this time.

“I'm here,” you say. The baby smacks their lips, enjoying the egg despite its texture.

“No ye aren't,” his blue eyes are piercing, cutting through the fog of unease. “Ye getting all worked up again? I better not catch ye out back again.”

You shake your head, though he's right to think that way. Cleansing yourself has been on the back of your mind, not only the holy kind but what they can bring you with a different kind of force.

There's the sprout of desire that's grown bigger and bigger, as if some dry seed had always resided inside you and they had watered it back to life.

“I'm not,” you finally say, though too much time has passed and it's clear Johnny doesn't believe you.

The door opens and you're saved by the interruption. A new anxiety forms as multiple people enter, curling suddenly like a hook. Simon, Gaz, Gaz's wife and Price step in.

“Tyra,” Gaz says. “Where's my little Tyra?”

The baby shrieks again, reaching her hands out. You see the resemblance to both Gaz and her mother now, seeing them up close again. She claps for Gaz, her mother behind him and smiling at you gently.

“How are ye, Kari?”

“I'm well, thank you,” Kari says. She's always so soft, so glowy every time you see her. No wonder Gaz has scooped her up, you think you'd have also planted a baby in her belly if you were both able and a viking. Such thoughts sometimes arrested you at random in the convent, admiring the other women and dismissing them as silly.

You try not to put more weight into them now, as it doesn't serve your predicament.

But still, you admire Kari.

“And you?” her eyes soften.

“Well,” you parrot. There’s no way to explain how unwell you really are - or how your well-ness is causing that unwellness. It's confusing enough for you.

“She's settling in,” Simon says. He's trading looks like Price, whose beard is becoming a little overgrown.

Gaz takes Tyra, who babbles happily. For a moment it's like this place isn't all evil and temptation, but also love and care. It's easy to get lost in the image of Gaz and Kari making kissy faces to Tyra, who is unknowing of the world and happy to be in it.

They don't linger long. There are words exchanged that you don't pay attention to, hands clapped and Tyra kissed goodbye. You learn that she's nearly two, still a baby but getting bigger. Price teases the couple about their next as they leave, making Kari laugh a hearty laugh that fills you with warmth.

It evaporates a little when you're left with Simon and Johnny and silence, the atmosphere changing to something unfamiliar. This boundary you'd crossed with them has left you someplace awkward, with you mostly lost in your head.

Simon is good at getting you out of that space, but he's been gone often since the incident and Johnny's intensity tends to push you further inward.

He comes up behind you, now, and sets his heavy hands on your shoulders.

“She been like this all day?” He asks Johnny, who hums affirmatively.

Simon leans down, lips brushing the top of your head, hands squeezing your shoulders, before he pulls you backwards into his torso.

“Your god speaking to ya?” He asks.

“No,” you say honestly. “He's silent.”

“Silent, eh?” There's a chuckle, then two. They're heathens, you remind yourself. Heathens.

“Lamb, why don't ye spend some time with the wee lady Tyra?” Johnny scoots forward on the bench, touches your knee, smiles.

“Might do you some good,” Simon agrees. “‘specially since we're goin’ on a hunt.”

You pause.

“A hunt?”

Johnny nods.

“I'll be stayin’ behind,” he says. “Watch our little nun.”

Simon finally sits behind you, hands sliding from your shoulders to the softness of your upper arms, still squeezing.

“It's past time,” Simon says quietly behind you. He explains the yearly hunt, the walrus in the right location, the ivory they will sell and the oil they will gain for use. There's a whisper of something there, maybe longing, maybe not. You can't tell, not with his aloofness. He's closed off as a default, but he rubs your arms like he's comforting you and you decide to take it as such.

There's nothing left for you to say, so you just nod. You're still trying to resist taking on an intimate role, a wifely role, something that will make them think you've given up. You haven't yet, you might not. You have options, even if they're unpleasant or permanent.

A shiver passes through you. That isn't what you want. You're stuck, but you have to rationalize: it isn't what you thought it would be.

You've felt good. You feel good now. The remaining pain comes from the twisting, growing shame that slowly turns in a circle and ensnares your insides.

That, and the taking. It still feels unfair, feels wrong. If you think on it too hard you start to feel like a thing, not a person.

Johnny seems regretful that night, a mix of pride and love for Simon warring with his need to stay home with you. He sleeps in the middle, leaving you near the wall and opting to join hands with Simon through the night. These moments humanize them to you as well – to your distress, and to your softening.

They love each other in the way you've seen some of the villagers love each other, in the way that love is universal; it's a little different, because they're different, but it's tender nonetheless.

Love is luck, you think. Luck enough to find someone to be tender with in a world that is hard to live in, that is so utilitarian, so survival dependent.

Simon leaves the next morning with a group of hunters. Price leads the pack of them, slapping the backs of some of the younger ones who for them it'll be their first or second winter hunt, encouraging them. It's a mixed group with both men and women, younger and older, seasoned and green.

You stand beside Johnny at the door, watching the group move through the village until they are gone. Johnny tells you that they’ll ride horses, but they’re further out. Lest we smell the horse shite, he laughs. Got enough on our plate with Si. The joke has a thread of longing in it.

You’ve never been truly alone with either of them, you realize. Sure, a few hours here and there, but never for the days that Simon plans to be gone. Never slept alone with either of them.

Simon has been somewhat of a buffer, even if he’s the one who initiated the incident and carried it out. He balances the infinite well of restlessness Johnny has.

It’s frightening and comforting all at once. For one, you don’t feel like a bug pinned by its wings, even if that means you’re even more anchor-less than before. Simon is solid despite his surliness, and without him to steady the dynamic you worry.

“Ah dinnae know what to make,” Johnny bemoans. He wants to prepare some kind of gift as a surprise. “Already got too many statues.”

“Statues?” you ask, tilting your head towards him.

“Aye,” he nods, moving to a far corner of the house. He produces a little leather pouch, then little carved wooden figurines. One of them is a wolf, the other a bird.

“You made this?” you take one delicately in your hand, as if it would break. Statues, he said. They’re cute, clearly having been made with care.

Turning the wolf in your hand, you admire the polished shine of the wood.

“Aye,” he says again. “Si’s got too many.”

He spends a portion of the day puttering about, stoking the fire, sharpening various tools. You can’t tell if he’s restless because Simon is gone, or if you hadn’t noticed his restless nature as much because Simon was his outlet.

An urge rises in you, that screaming urge you know more intimately than anything else, awakened and restless like a hungry beast – it stirs as Johnny stokes the fire, crouched and with his back to you.

The only way to go if not out is in and you won’t. Push him in, you think. If you want out, push him in.

But you won't. There’s darkness at the core of you to be sure, but not that kind of darkness. Not the kind both he and Simon are steeped in. Violence, sadism maybe.

That would make you the other side of the coin.

The same swirling pattern of thoughts plague you even as Johnny serves you fish and more turnip for dinner, even as he pulls you into bed for that night and wraps himself around you.

You want to kick. To scream. To have a fit. Some insane, perverse fit; something that would have earned you an exorcism or an execution in the village. These thoughts come unbidden to you as you try not to feel the grasp of Johnny’s hand to your waist, nor the scruff of his beard on your throat.

Your identity has shifted, already. You aren't dead inside, not anymore. Not hoping for some outer force to take you away.

An outer force has taken you, and now you wrestle with the ramifications on your spirit.

It's unclean now, surely. But hadn't it always been?

Hadn't you willed this?

Happy faces appear in your mind. Kari. Tyra. Gaz. Price. Johnny. Simon is too hard to read, but the way he treats Johnny is enough to convey some kind of contentment.

And then the look at breakfast. The baby. Johnny’s gentle cooing, his attention. Simon’s hands squeezing you, reassuring you.

They contribute to the degradation of your spirit, to each rend of the glue that has held you together since first consciousness.

You try to hold onto the fear from before. Their words from before – behave and we won’t kill you. Does that still apply? Are you still under an ever present, looming threat? Were they only trying to get you moving?

Some part of you shudders to realize that it doesn’t feel that way. Even when they had sprung it on you to marry you, you hadn’t felt the same mortal fear as when they had absconded with you.

No, it had been hurt. Disappointment. The fear had shifted with your identity, staying present but becoming unfamiliar.

The you that they had taken was unfamiliar too. She’d have never built snowmen, nor ground her pussy into the hand of a viking and relaxed into another’s hold as you are now.

You wanted to live, you think. Even then.

A couple days pass. Johnny finally finds a suitable enough gift for Simon, a double edged blade he’s carving and sharpening.

The sight of it makes something tighten in your chest, so you avoid looking at it.

Between you both, it’s less awkward than you worried about. You come to a different understanding of him, one that comes from watching his independence without Simon. They truly do fit together, you think. Complement each other.

What about you? Are you here for them to have other options? A cunt, you think crudely. Something that gets wet without extra effort, something easy. You’ve certainly not made it hard. The thought puts you in another stink, frowning down at the pair of linen summer pants you’d found and started to mend.

“What’s this face ye got on?” Johnny steps up to you, setting the heavy blade on the table, and sitting.

You don’t speak, you just sew. Are you just a womb? Is that it?

“Awe, lamb,” he leans forward, hands finding the tops of your thighs and leaning on them. “So sour.”

When you still don’t respond, he reaches to take your sewing. You lose some bearing and prick him with the needle, frissy that he’s trying to take you out of your ruminations.

Provocative.

“Och,” he waves his hand, then laughs. “Prickly, are we?”

He forces the fabric from your hands, squeezing your hand until it opens with the needle and thread. You make some kind of irritated sound, like a growling cat, still half in reality and half in your mind.

“Ye’ve been stuck,” he pokes your forehead. “Stuck here, eh? Let me fix that.”

And then you’re pulled up to your feet, steered to the bed, and pushed before you can adapt.

“Simon’ll have’tae forgive me,” he murmurs. You’re sat on the edge, looking down at him with a frown.

“What-” you make a strange, caught off guard squeaking sound as he pushes you by the shoulders, lifting the edge of your dress.

“Sh,” he says sharply. “Should’a done this days ago.”

“Wait- don’t-” you slam your knees shut, trying to sit back up. Something sharp you can’t name explodes outwards from your chest, sharp spikes pricking your lungs and your heart, twisting.

Your struggle is mostly futile, though it’s easier that Simon isn’t here. Your arms flail, your legs scoot you away up the bed.

“Noo-” you try again. Your fear stems mostly from the uncertainty of what he’ll do, of the fear that he’ll steal the last true thing you have; your virtue.

“Relax,” he strong-arms you into lying down, arms crossed at your chest and his huge hand keeping them pushed down.

He positions himself parallel to you, replacing his hand with his bigger knee, his face right where he wants it.

“Ye should’ve asked me, lamb,” he murmurs, then kisses the hair above your pussy. Your stomach tightens, breath coming out in strained gasps from the combined weight of his knee and your shame.

You’re wet.

“I won’t smack ye if I don’t have tae,” he says. His hands rub up your hips, then your thighs, before coming up to your pussy and spreading your lips open.

Your clit strains in the open air, a cool breeze from the gaps in the door making it jump. He watches for a moment, cruelly, listening to the sound of your laboured breathing.

Then he dives in, tongue first. Because of the angle, his tongue dips down towards your hole while his lower lip catches your clit, making you gasp.

“Let me,” he hums, pauses. “Let me take care of ye, lamb.”

And God, he does. Johnny licks over you like a starved man, sucking your labia before flicking the tip of his tongue over your clit again as sounds come out of you like someone is pounding a fist into your chest.

He slurps your wetness obscenely, using his fingers to scoop whatever leaks from your hole as best he can and bringing them to his mouth to suck clean. He murmurs fervently about how good you taste, how he can smell the desperation from you.

“So neglected,” he sucks the wetness from your hair, even. “Forgive me.”

He’s talking to your cunt again, leaving you trembling against the bed and tightening, tightening, rising, rising–

He stops.

You damn near scream, but the sound gets trapped where he’s still putting his weight on you.

“I’m gonnae move, and yer gonnae stay right there all sweet for me, aren’t ye?” he turns to look at you, and though you can hardly see him you nod.

He lifts off, making you grunt involuntarily, then switches positions so he’s on his hands and knees nearly on top of you.

“Open those legs,” he says. Leans down to kiss your sternum over the fabric of your dress. “Let me ease yer mind.”

You can feel yourself falling further from grace, but God help you – you open your legs.

Johnny keeps eye contact as he slides down, getting on his stomach with those piercing blue eyes cutting through you.

When his mouth touches your cunt again, you feel yourself start to shake, growing more insane by the second. His tongue touches your hot, swollen flesh, dragging wetly against everything sensitive. He’s like an animal, you think. A heathen. No wonder these people have not seen God’s light. No wonder it does not reach here.

Something so sinful, so good, couldn’t possibly exist in the puritanical world you’d been taken from.

God, you think again, body twisting against the sheets, is this really what they kept from us?

“Please,” you cry out. Please stop? Please continue? It’s a plea for more than just Johnny, more than God. It’s a question that burrows deep in your mind and begs you to understand yourself, to untangle, to feel and release.

And oh, you’re breathing, breathing in, breathing in perhaps for the first time in your life. You wrench his hair in your fists, uncaring, screaming into the cold winter afternoon without a care. Your back arches, tilting your cunt further into his face, legs straining, gushing. Blood rushes in your ears, deafening you, once again turning the world into a small point where you can neither hear nor see.

All you can do is feel, ride, undulate. This is that fit you’d wanted earlier, it’s some insane hysteria, some sin that feels like ecstasy.

Your nipples tighten, stimulated by the chill of the air and the scratch of your woolen dress. Your peak is maddening, drawn-out and pushed further by Johnny’s lips suctioned around your clit and sucking in hard.

The moment you truly finish, when the stimulation turns to discomfort, you release his hair and push at his head.

“Stop,” you gasp. “Stop it.”

He doesn’t. His hands find your thighs, holding you open, running his tongue from your clit and then piercing it into your hole. His nose rubs on you, and though tears spill from your eyes you grind into it, crying for him to end it.

“One more,” he grunts.

“No,” you moan. Then you peak again, mouth open in a silent scream and eyes screwing shut, the fusion of sharp, near-painful pleasure and actual, overstimulated pain brings you a climax you could have never imagined of on your own.

You weep again as he pulls away, feeling raw and tender.

Boneless.

You wake in the middle of the night bundled and in both furs and arms. You’re pleasantly sore, pulsing a little still between your legs where Johnny’s thigh keeps you company. He’s so warm, so comfortable, that it’s easy for you to fall back asleep.

You wake again in the early morning, so early that the light of dawn hasn't yet breached the cabin.

Johnny snuffles behind you. Nose on your shoulder, hands migrating to rest just below your breasts.

“Mmmlamb,” he murmurs.

Your muscles are heavy, still. Weighed down with relaxation. It's true that you had gotten worked up, and that his actions had helped. You don't find any shame, not now. You've found a rare pocket of respite.

Simon is due back in a day or two unless there are extenuating circumstances. A winter storm, maybe. Or an errant predator.

What would life look like if he never returned? It’s an uncomfortable thought. You’re still on the edge of how you feel, teetering between extremes, but you rely on them both for survival.

Where could you go? Even when you’d ran, the plan had been borne of heart, not mind. Without Simon or Johnny, you’d be in a terrible precarious situation.

Without Simon permanently? You weren’t sure.

You very slowly extricate yourself from Johnny’s arms, sliding out of bed and into the cold air. The fire is just coals, so you add a few pieces of wood and stoke it for the day. In the dark, you can see the reflection of the fire in the sword Johnny had left on the table.

You pad to it, staring, curious and afraid. It looked orange from the fire, only darker. It looked like your beautiful red ochre dress, your blood dress.

You reach your fingers out and stroke along the blade, breathing shallowly in the dark.

Dawn breaks.

#Johnny's mouth🤝hitachi magic wand #sorry this took a while #nun finally gets her pssy ate<3 #she deserves it #this chap is very johnny-heavy #someone get him brown eye contacts please he's scaring the nun</3 #soap x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #ghoap x reader #cw dubcon #cw noncon #18+ mdni #red ochre

446 notes · View notes

janeyseymour · 3 months ago

Text

Wouldn't Deny That I'm In Love With You

Disclaimer: @schemmentigfs and I both got the same prompt, but decided to both write our own takes on it... so... but also like go read hers because it's a fucking slay.

Summary: You're a sunny art teacher, and you're married to the Abbott grump. No one knows. (requested by @strawberrypink-jellybeans )

WC: ~4.6k

Ms. Y/N. Ms. Schemmenti. Two souls who just so happen to find each other at the school that you both work at. Two souls that just so happen to be married to each other, undetected and unknown by most of the Abbott Elementary staff- aside from Barbara Howard, who doesn’t say much in regard to the topic because she knows of her work wife’s preferences. Two souls who, despite being near polar opposites, have found a love that they each hold near to their hearts.

Five years the two of you have been together. Three of those years, you’ve spent married. Why no one has really caught onto the fact that the tough, take no shit, second grade teacher and the always sunny and radiating joy art teacher are together? You never made a big deal about it, and you probably won’t ever. The only times that the two of you are necessarily together at school is when she brings her students to you for their related arts time. Your lunches and preps don’t line up, and Melissa likes to get to the school early enough to catch the news and prepare for her day while you prefer to lie in bed for longer than you would like to admit. There’s no need for all of glitz and glamour- no, instead, you began dating quietly, and then two years later you made your way down to City Hall with simple rings that had arrived in the mail from Amazon. With Barbara Howard as your witness, the two of you wed in a small conference room in the center of the city that had both of your hearts.

The change of last names never happened. Everyone at Abbott is so used to Melissa being a Schemmenti, and she takes pride in that last name. And you? You wouldn’t have minded being Mrs. Schemmenti, but you did fear that it would confuse some of your younger students. So, you kept your last name too.

And since that beautiful day two years ago, you’ve never been happier. Your sunny disposition only became brighter. And for a bit, Melissa was lighter on her toes before slipping back into the rough and tough teacher she was known to be. And no one ever asked why you began to wear a ring on your left hand- just another addition to the many rings that you tend to wear on a daily basis. The same goes for your wife. So no one at Abbott is aware of the marriage- including your boss, who has glossed over the fact that your paystubs have the same address.

If anybody had ever asked why either of you began wearing rings, you would tell them that you happily got married. And if anyone had asked why Melissa was wearing a new ring, she would tell them that someone finally managed to tie her down. And if they were smart about it, they would’ve known that the two of you are happily married. But you suppose that nobody expects the fiery redhead and the sweet art teacher to really cross paths to begin with.

It’s not like you hide the fact that you’re in a relationship. You really don’t. In all honesty, you wear your heart on your sleeve, and outside of school, everyone knows that you are happily married. You have your regular spots for dinner and coffee, her family absolutely adores you, and your family has made it quite clear that if you were to divorce Melissa, they would take her side in the matter.

Outside of school, those who know that the two of you are together know just how in love the two of you are. You’re not afraid to tell people how you love her- grumpiness and all.

Even your families are slightly attune to the fact that your wife isn’t always the badass bitch she pretends to be. They watch the way she tends to be with you, how you have this magical presence about you that eases everybody, but especially Melissa. They see how she holds you tenderly and how you are at such an ease with her, and you’re usually at ease to begin with.

But you know that there’s a time and a place to bring out the softness of your redheaded angel. And school is not necessarily the time or the place. Well, until…

It’s a Thursday morning when Melissa slams her fist into her alarm clock with a bit more force than she usually would that you know today is going to be a day where your phone just constantly goes off because you need to help keep your wife from committing arson.

After yesterday, you have a feeling that today is going to be a shit show for your wife. You’re quite thankful that you don’t have to deal with parents very often after you hear some of the horrors your wife has gone through.

When you expect her to roll out of bed to get into the shower, she doesn’t. She simply tightens her hold on you and kisses your neck.

“Hun,” you chuckle softly. “Babe.”

“Don’t wanna go to work today,” Melissa mumbles into the crook of your neck. “Don’t make me.”

You chuckle lowly. “You don’t have to, Lis. But I am going.”

“Stay with me,” your wife whines. “C’mon. We never take a day.”

“I can lay with you until it’s time for me to get up, but you know how excited I am to start this unit with the kiddos,” you tell her.

She groans at your insistence. “I guess I’ll take what I can get.”

Her laying with you only lasts a few minutes longer before she huffs and throws the covers off of her body. “If I go to work today, will you at least come shower with me?”

With a giggle, you follow her into the bathroom.

You think that maybe with the way she left the house this morning while you finished up your makeup and getting ready, her mood would be slightly better than it would’ve been had you not had sex in the shower.

But on your drive to work, you get a call from Melissa, and you know that nothing good can come from a call from her this early.

“What’s up, babe?” you answer brightly.

“I’m going to commit a crime,” your wife huffs into the phone.

You sigh deeply. “No, you are not,” you tell her firmly. “What happened?”

The redhead proceeds to tell you about the terrible email that a certain parent had sent her last night, claiming that she was the worst teacher in the greater Philadelphia area and that she was going to sue.

“I doubt that she’ll do that, and you know you are a great teacher,” you attempt to calm the fired up woman.

“I’m going to commit a crime for a different reason,” Melissa tells you.

“And that would be?”

“She left a voicemail on my phone and called me a dyke.”

That was probably the last thing that you expected your wife to say, and your heart breaks in your chest. You know that particular word brings up quite a few things for the redhead from her past, and you can’t say you’re fond of that slur either.

“My love,” you make your voice as warm and as calm as you possibly can. “I’m sorry. What do you need right now? Comfort, or a solution?”

“Both.”

“Well, my comfort solution right now is that I’m about five minutes from school, so you can head to my classroom and wait for me there. And my solution solution would be to go to Ava with the email and the voicemail and see what she has to say about it.”

You hear a soft hum come from Melissa as she debates which one she should do.

“Or, you can come to my classroom, and when I get there, we can go together.”

Melissa doesn’t end up doing any of those things. Of course she doesn’t. She stays on the phone with you until you get to your place of employment, but then she claims that she’s fine and doesn’t need to come to your classroom and she can handle the situation on her own.

And that solution is for her to simply simmer in her classroom- she doesn’t want to bother you when she knows that you have so much to prepare for today.

When the kiddos begin to trickle in, you’re upstairs in your classroom while Melissa stands by her door and tries to smile as her students greet her.

That’s when the parent comes in. She comes in with a fire and storms right up to your wife.

“The hell do you think you are?” the mother gets right in the redhead’s face. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Ma’am,” Melissa says, scarily calm. “Now is not the time or the place. If you wish to speak to me after school, I would be more than happy to do so with my boss present.”

“I think here is a great place, and now is the time! Because I won’t have time to have a conversation with you at the end of the school day! I have to get my daughter home and ready for gymnastics! Not like you would know anything about that, fuckin’ pathetic, childless fag.” The woman ends up screaming in your wife’s face because of a note that was sent home in regards to her daughter’s behavior the previous day. She ends up getting so close to Melissa that she can smell the booze in her breath- at 7:30 in the morning.

To the second grade teacher’s credit, she remains eerily calm the entire time. The only signal that she is getting angrier is that her fists clench and uncurl every so often. And because of this, Barbara Howard does not get involved. Instead, the kindergarten teacher greets her students while keeping a careful eye on her work wife and makes a mental note to text you a warning about your wife’s attitude when you see her later today.

Unfortunately, kindergarteners always keep the woman of God on her toes, and that text doesn’t get sent until you’re already in the middle of teaching your sixth graders.

A parent came in here raging at your wife. Lay’s mom.

She sent Lis a nasty email last night too… Should I come check on her?

I’m already sending her up. Having Janine watch her class as we speak.

Thank you.

Good luck.

You can hear your wife before you see her appear in the doorway, her heels clicking on the tile in a way where you know she’s pissed. And then her face is in front of you, and you can see how pissed she is.

“Hey,” you smile warmly at your wife. “Just give me a second to get the kids set up, and then-”

“Why did Barb send me up here?” Melissa bites out. “I don’t have time for this, Ms. Y/N.”

A few of your students look to the feisty second grade teacher with what you can only describe as a scowl. She’s speaking to you, the sweet and sunny art teacher, in such a bitter way.

You just give her a look that tells her to simmer down before turning back to your students. Some of them are waving at her, as she was their second grade teacher, but most of them just look confused that she’s up here when second grade doesn’t have their special until the end of the day, and she’s here on her own. You give them their instruction and ask them to do it quietly while you speak with Miss Schemmenti. Being a good group of students, they all take out their sketchbooks and begin to work. So, you step into the hall and crack your door.

“Lis,” you sigh quietly once you have privacy.

“‘m. fine,” your wife grits out. “Don’ even know why Barb sent me up here.”

“Because it’s clear you’re pissed, and that woman was yelling in your face.”

“And?” the redhead challenges. “I handled it fine. Didn’t even start cursing in Italian when I went into my classroom. I don’ need Barb, or you, acting like I’m gonna fly off the handle at every little thing. I don’ need it.”

“Lis.” You raise a brow and hug your arms around your body. “C’mon. We’re just looking out for you because we love you.”

“And I can handle it on my own.”

You frown, but nod. “Okay, hun. If you say so. But just know, I’m always here for you.”

Your wife just gives you a look that is clearly asking if you have anything else to say, or if she can go.

“Okay, babe,” you sigh. “I’m sorry she sent you up here, but we’re just looking out for you and making sure you’re okay. We love you, you know.”

The redhead finally begins to soften up a little. “I know.”

“Good.” You reach a hand out and squeeze hers gently before dropping it between the two of you. “I’ll see you when you bring your kiddos up for art?”

“Yeah,” the redhead sighs.

“And then tonight, we can just relax, yeah?”

She nods.

“I love you, Lis.”

“I love you too,” Melissa whispers back. She turns her head both ways to see if any students are wandering the hall, and for once there aren’t any stragglers. So, she leans in for a quick kiss- one that you reciprocate. And then she’s off down the hallways, heels still clanking against the tile, but slightly less aggressively. You can’t help but watch her figure as she goes before turning back into your classroom.

What the two of you weren’t aware of is that one of your students had gotten up to ask if she could use the restroom, and she saw the two of you kiss.

The class is whispering rapidly when you walk in, but you don’t really mind. You had given them an easy assignment, and it was simply to draw how they were feeling today. You knew it wouldn’t take much time, and you were prepared to walk back into your classroom to a more chaotic situation than you had. What you don’t know is that they were already whispering about you and Melissa. They go quiet as you walk back into the room.

Your smile is warm and your eyes are soft as you continue class with a grateful thank you for their patience and behavior.

By the time their teacher comes to pick them up, the word has spread like a wildfire- or a Schemmenti-made fire. They took to texting their friends while you gave them time to work on their sculptures with the option of listening to music on their phones.

But you are blissfully unaware of the rumors circulating about you and the second grade teacher you call your wife, so you send them off with a smile. When your next group comes in, those kids are well-behaved, albeit a bit chatty. You don’t tend to listen in on their conversations, so you don’t know that they’re speaking about you. You don’t miss the way some of them look at you, but you suppose that maybe they just aren’t fond of this outfit today. Still, you maintain your positive and bright disposition throughout the class period.

When your prep period comes around, you feel as though you’re in a good spot to be. So, you settle at your desk with a light snack and your phone.

I hope your day got better, you text Melissa.

Her response comes a bit later, as you’re thumbing through a few papers. Yeah. Got a few visitors from past years swinging by the room too, which is nice. Reminds me that I’m a good teacher.

Neither of you are aware that her former students are stopping by to get a look at her- as if they can see if the rumor is true or not by simply looking at her.

You are, you reply. I’m glad your day got better.

Thanks sunshine.

You smile dreamily at her words.

Come lunch, word about the two of you dating has gone through the school. Even most of the teachers are aware of the rumor- but you’re upstairs in your own little bubble, and everybody has seen the mood that your wife is in, so no one says anything. Not even Jacob, who is known for his curiosity, says anything. The lunch room is eerily quiet, and Melissa can’t say she’s unhappy about it. After chaos in her classroom, the redhead welcomes the calm eagerly.

Your last class to come by today is your wife’s. You’re standing outside of your classroom waiting for them when you see her marching her students down. She clearly seems to be in a better mood, and for that you are thankful. A grumpy Melissa at home is not a fun Melissa.

“Hello, Ms. Schemmenti!” you singsong, and your heart fills when she gives you a smile she usually reserves for you at home.

“Ms. Y/N,” the second grade teacher chuckles. She smirks. “My little eagles have been talking about how they’re so excited to see you today.”

You grin brightly at the kids lined up at your door. “How sweet,” you coo, and you ruffle Rakeem’s hair gently. “C’mon in, find your seats, and pull out your sketchbooks for me, okay?”

They file their way in, and you take the opportunity to look at your wife in all of her beauty for a few seconds. “Better day?”

“Better day,” Melissa sighs quietly. “And I talked to Ava about that situation, and she’s surprisingly willing to help me out.”

“Say what you want about Ava,” you chuckle. “But she does her job sufficiently.”

The redhead rolls her eyes and shrugs, and all you can do is smirk. “Have a good prep period, hun.”

“Have fun with my monsters.”

You turn into the room with a dopey lovesick smile on your face before you begin your last lesson of the day.

The second grade teacher is all caught up on her work, and she doesn’t really have much else to discuss with Janine in terms of curriculum, so Melissa makes her way up the stairs about ten minutes early.

You’re fully immersed in your teaching when she comes by, and all she can do is lean against the doorframe and watch you work your magic. It’s… definitely a different approach from her own teaching style, but you thrive. You’re easily one of the best teachers at Abbott, and your wife knows that- she tells you constantly.

You don’t even notice that she’s standing there, until you notice that your students are maybe not as engaged as they usually are with you.

“My loves,” you sigh softly, but the smile on your face is still present. “I do wish you would stay with me so you know what we’ll be doing next class.”

“C’mon, my little eagles,” Melissa scolds them gently. “You gotta listen to-”

“Am I running late?” you turn on your heel and look at Melissa.

She shakes her head. “Just had a few extra minutes. Thought I’d see what my favorite students are up to with one of their favorite teachers.”

“Oh,” you ease up immediately. “Well, come on in, Mel- Ms. Schemmenti.”

The redhead takes an empty stool and watches as you teach for the last few minutes. The students look between the two of you the entire time.

When there are a few minutes left of class, you ask the children if they have any questions- and you should’ve been specific in asking if they had any questions about the future of their art projects. Immediately, almost every student’s hand goes up.

You frown just slightly. “Was I not clear enough with my instruction?” you mumble to yourself. You thought you had been quite clear with the next steps and expectations. “Yes, Angel?”

“Are you and Ms. Schemmenti dating?”

You give a blank stare, and then your brows creep up your forehead. “What?”

“Are you and Ms. Schemmenti dating?” she repeats.

You glance to your wife, and she just gives you a look that states you can say whatever you want. With a nod of her head, you take a deep breath.

“Where did this come from?” you inquire.

This time, Malia speaks up. “My older brother saw you and Ms. Schemmenti this morning in the hallway kissing.”

“Wh-” Melissa gasps out. “That-”

“He said that Ms. Schemmenti came up during his class, and when he got up to ask to go to the bathroom he saw her kiss you.”

You bite your lip. “Well, that rumor is not true.”

The class gives a collective sigh, and you allow them to believe what you said before you smile.

“Because actually… Ms. Schemmenti and I are married.” You hold up your left hand and wiggle your ring finger. The students’ eyes go from you to your wife, who is also holding up her left hand with a smirk.

The frowns and sad sighs quickly turn into wide eyes, mouths agape, big smiles, and cheers. Questions are flying at you a million miles a minute, and you can’t help but chuckle. Instead of trying to answer them over the chaos in your room, you simply make your way over to the redhead and drape an arm around her shoulder while you wait for them to get their excitement out. It takes a minute for their shock to die down and for you to wrangle their attention again.

“Ms. Schemmenti and I are married; have been for three years,” you chuckle. “Yes, Sweet Cheeks comes home with us over the summers. Sometimes we go out for dinner, but mostly we just stay in and cook. Our house has a front porch with a garden in the back. No, we don’t usually come to work together.”

“H-how?!” one of the kids stammers out.

You go to say more, but your wife just holds up a hand to signal them to stop bombarding the two of you with questions. “My little eagles, we have to get back to our classroom if we want to get to dismissal on time. So, line up. C’mon.”

Dismissal is much more hectic than usual. You’re standing outside at your duty while Melissa sees that all of her students get to the right places, and word travels fast. You have students and their parents coming up to the both of you praising you for ‘having the courage’ to come out. Others can’t believe that the hard ass and the personification of sunshine are married. But almost everybody is smiles at the confirmation that the two of you are a happy couple.

Well, all except that one parent. She comes up, guns a-blazing to you. She begins to scream in your face, calling you all sorts of derogatory names. She’s… you’re becoming increasingly nervous.

Thankfully, Melissa is able to dismiss the rest of her students and comes to your rescue. So does Ava. While Ava tries to get her to walk away without causing any more of a scene than what was already created, your wife is pissed.

“You can talk to me however you want,” Melissa hisses at the woman, pointing a finger in the woman’s face. “You can say whatever the hell you want about me. But you do not speak to my wife like that. Nope, and if you keep goin’… you don’t know who you’re-”

“Lis,” you tug her back by the arm gently. “Just… let her go. Ava will handle it.”

She shoots you an incredulous look. How are you so calm about this? But because you give her a look that tells her it’s not worth it, she backs down. She continues to glare at the woman as she’s pulled away by another parent and the principal.

The redhead just wraps an arm around you, holding you close for the rest of dismissal. She doesn’t care anymore- the entire school knows that the two of you are together at this point. And if they didn’t witness the events that had just taken place, the two of you know word travels fast in this school- everyone would know by tomorrow morning anyway.

One more parent approaches you with their child, and Melissa looks like she’s ready to fight if someone else says one more negative thing about your relationship.

“I- I saw what happened,” the mother states quietly. “And I just want you to know… she’s on her own in that mindset. The rest of us are quite happy to have the two of you at Abbott, your relationship aside. And, if the two of you are happy, that’s nobody’s business but your own.”

You give this mother a soft smile and a thank you for her words.

After dismissal, you don’t go into the staff lounge to grab your lunch bag- you’ll wait to get it tomorrow. No. You just want to go home and relax after the last hour of your day. Melissa texts you to let you know that she doesn’t plan on sticking around today either- she’ll meet you at home as soon as she can. So, you quietly slip out of the school once teacher hours are over.

At home, you’re just pouring two glasses of wine as your wife comes in and kicks off her shoes. Her arms are instantly around your waist and kissing you softly. You giggle in her hold.

“Hey, babe,” you smile against her lips.

She just kisses you again, murmuring, “My beautiful wife.”

“Do you want to talk about today?” you ask as you pull away and offer her the wine glass meant for her.

Where you think the redhead is going to go back to raging, she just shrugs. “Ava already pulled me aside and told me that she has our backs. She ain’t gonna let this parent ruin it all- somehow she’s already in the process of moving the kid to Janine’s class, as much as I’ll hate to see Lay out of my class.”

“It’s probably for the best,” you sigh quietly.

Melissa nods with a frown. “And instead of taking art, she’ll go with the gym teacher twice a cycle… Mom’s a real homophobe and doesn’t want us ‘rubbing in the gay’. Whatever the hell that means.”

You roll your eyes. “A real piece of work.”

“That’s the understatement of the year.”

“Well?” you ask as you take a sip of your own wine. “How do you feel about us being out at school?”

“It was only a matter of time,” your wife tells you with a small shrug and a smile. “I don’ care if everyone knows, although I’m not looking forward to the line of questioning I’ll get from Pipsqueak and her sidekick tomorrow morning.”

“Why don’t we go into work together tomorrow, and I’ll help you out with that?” you tease.

“You’d wake up early for me?”

“You know I would,” you chuckle.

The next morning, Melissa drives the two of you to your place of work, and you walk into the staff lounge hand in hand. Almost immediately, her work crew- aside from Barbara- are bombarding you with questions.

You do everything you can to answer them, until Jacob asks, “Why didn’t you tell us?”

Melissa just smirks. “Youse didn’t ask. Had you, I would’ve told you I was happily married to Y/N three years ago. It’s not like I deny that I’m in love with her.”

TAGS: (and let me know if you want to be added!): @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @sweetcheeksschemmenti @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @a-queen-and-her-throne @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson @dvrkhcld @cosmichymns @sasheemo @m1lflov3rrr @ricejucie @temilyrights @emilynissangtr @squinnchy @dopenightmaretyphoon @emeraldoceansstuff @shinyfaerielights @blkmxrvel @marvelwomenrule @sarahjohannson @casualfoxwitch

#abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you

628 notes · View notes

no-144444 · 4 months ago

Text

the grid: wedding shenanigans

Day 14 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

Featuring: Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell, Alex Albon, Daniel Riccardo, Charles LeClerc, Max Verstappen

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Oscar Piastri: driving off into the sunset (literally)

The entire day was so special, it was a small service with just family and friends where you’d flown everyone out to their beach house. It was beautiful, the sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and you were getting married. You looked stunning in your dress, and everyone cried as you came down the aisle, but no one more than Oscar. He looked at you with all the love and affection in the world and as you finally reached the top of the aisle, pressed a small kiss to your cheek whispering an ‘i love you’ much to the dismay of your officiant.

The day went on with lunch, some pictures, and finally the dancing, and as the sun set, you grabbed your suitcases and grabbed the keys to his pickup, driving off into the sunset for your honeymoon in the Outback, southern Australia, and then onto New Zealand.

He glanced over at you as he drove, the setting sun giving you a special glow as you looked at the ring on your finger. He slowly pulled over to the side of the road, wanting to gaze up at the stars that were just beginning to show. You two sat in the back of the pickup with a blanket over the top of you. You cuddled into his side and smiled.

“How does it feel, Mrs. Piastri?” he whispered, staring up at the stars.

You beamed. “It feels fucking amazing to be your wife,” you pressed a kiss to the arm he had wrapped around your shoulders. “How does it feel for you?”

He groaned, a bright smile on his face. “Like everything I’ve ever wanted has come true,” he almost cringed at himself, knowing how corny he sounds.

But you just nodded and smiled, perfectly contempt.

You two really were made for each other. Oscar stared up at the sky as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, before he started driving again after lying you down in the passenger seat, he thanked his lucky stars for giving him you.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Lando Norris: sneaking off in the middle of the party

You felt the adrenaline rush through you as he led you down yet another long corridor. He was giggling the whole way, as were you, his hand held tightly around yours. The day had been wonderful, you’d gotten married in Sibton Park Estate, a beautiful country house with all the charm of a castle. You felt like a princess as you walked down the aisle, smiling brightly at Lando, who shed a tear or two, but mostly smiled and laughed out of nervousness. He had to stop his vows twice because he started laughing, and once because he started crying. Your vows made him bawl, having to give him a few minutes break before continuing. But god, had it been a tiring day. All day you were on your feet, away from your husband talking to guest after guest, seeing him on the dance floor for your first dance, then immediately being pulled away. It was jarring, even Max commented on it, saying. “You two are usually so all over each other, today I’ve barely seen you two interact outside of genuinely saying your vows!”

Safe to say you missed each other.

Somehow, he pushed a door open that brought you to a drawing room that overlooked the entire outdoor party and you smiled as you watched your friends and family let loose. He wrapped his arms around you and pressed a soft kiss to your neck.

“I can’t believe you’re my wife,” he grinned like a schoolboy. “Don’t think I’ll ever get tired of saying that.”

You chuckled. “I love you so much,” you sighed. “Today was perfect.”

He nodded. “So perfect. Best day of my life.”

“Not your first win?”

He pulled his ‘sassy face’, as you called it. “Fuck no. This is the best day of my life, hands down.”

You looked at him sceptically. “I wouldn’t be offended-” “My word, I got to marry the most caring, lovely, kind, smart, incredible, stunning, gorgeous, loyal, gentle, hilarious, most wonderful woman in the world and call her my wife. She’s wearing my ring on her finger, she’s kissing my lips, and she’s sleeping in my bed. You are the most important thing in my life, and I will die on that hill, alright?”

You chuckled. “Alright,” you turned around and kissed him, softer than you did when you’d been pronounced as married.

“I fucking adore you,” he whispered.

Perfect moment on a perfect day.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Lewis Hamilton: anxiety before the ceremony

You paced back and forth in your dressing room, internally freaking out. You knew you loved Lewis, more than anything you loved Lewis. Though today was just proving… terrifying. Everyone’s eyes on you, everyone talking to you, everyone trying to be around you. Hellish experience, and it was only 1pm.

There was a knock at the door. “Baby?” It was Lewis’s voice, and everything felt ok again for a split second, then he started to try and open the door. You flung yourself against it with a thud and he chuckled. “Are we really believing in the superstitions?”

“Yes!” you stressed. “Why are you here?” “Because someone told me my soon-to-be wife is freaking out a little bit.”

You could hear the smile on his lips. “You’re not mad?”

“I’m freaking out too,” he whispered. "It's ok."

You let out a breath of relief. “Thank fuck,” you chuckled feeling the tension in your shoulders lessen. He poked his hand through the cracked door which you took and squeezed.

“Look baby, we’ve got this. Today is scary and nerve wracking, but it’s alright. I’ll be beside you all day, ok?”

You nodded. “Ok.”

Maybe you could do this. Lewis would be there, standing at the end of that aisle with his regular goofy smile and big heart. Lewis would be standing beside you all day. Lewis loved you.

“Ok,” you breathed out again.

“I’ll see you on the altar then?” he smiled.

“I’ll be the one wearing white,” you smiled.

All that anxiety was replaced by excitement.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

George Russell: quiet morning after the wedding

You laid in bed beside him, utterly spent from the day. It started at 9am and went until about 3am, then those 2 extra hours of ‘newly-wedded activities’ made you sleep in until about 12pm. You woke up with George’s arms around you, the sunlight coming in from the gorgeous day outside. The sun was shining in Greece, and you were extremely excited to have George to yourself for 3 whole weeks of good food, good wine, good sex, and him being your husband.

“Morning,” he groaned, burying his head further into his pillow. “I think Benjy got alcohol poisoning last night.”

“Morning sunshine,” you teased. “Also, I don’t think your brother drank that much last night, but I’ll shoot him a text anyway.”

“We should probably get up,” he huffed, you chuckled.

“We could,” you nodded, climbing on top of him and pulling his head away from the pillow. “Or, we could just stay here all day and only resurface for water and food?”

He smirked. “Insatiable much?”

“Sorry, I just have a really sexy husband,” you smirked, flashing your ring. He groaned and pulled you in for yet another kiss.

You didn’t leave the bed for a good while.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Alex Albon: nothing goes right

You had planned the most beautiful wedding, you’d spent months refining everything, making sure it would be perfect, mostly because you knew it had to be, or else you’d be judged. Your parents would judge you, your family would judge you, the world would judge you.

But no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t control the weather. You had planned the perfect beach wedding, flew everyone out, spent the last 3 days making sure everyone was comfortable, and when you woke up, you woke up to pissing rain and your caterers cancelling. Being the over-thinker you are, you already had another catering place on speed dial, and you sorted out any other problem that came your way. You moved the weeking to an indoor venue, you dealt with all of your guests' complaints, you listened to the moanings and bitchings of your judgemental mother, all while getting ready for your special day.

It pissed rain as Alex stood at the end of the aisle, soaking wet in the humid Thai rain, but smiling all the same. That’s when you realised that was all that mattered. You and Alex.

"You look beautiful," he whispered when you finally reached the end of the aisle.

You smiled. "Beautiful drenched?"

"Beautiful always."

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Daniel Riccardo: his vows You stood at the top of the altar, the months and months of planning came down to this moment. Daniel, his bright smile, standing there in front of you. Shit, he was beautiful.

You’d already said your vows, he smiled his way through them while you cried, and now it was his turn.

He looked down at the little book in his hands and took a long shaky breath. “I love you,” he smiled. “More than anything in this entire world, I love you. I love how deeply and truly you care about things, I love your humour, I love your smile, I love your ability to somehow rail me in,” the crowd laughed at that as you wiped tears from your eyes. “I love the way you always wave at kids passing by, I love the way you support and encourage the people around you, I love the way your nose crinkles when you laugh,” he looked up to see you laughing, and somehow, his grin got wider. “Like you’re doing now. I love coming home to you, I love waking up with you beside me, I love my life, because you’re in it. You’ve stayed with me through some of my darkest times, and loved me the same as you do through my brightest. From our first date to our dying day, I’ve loved you, and I’ll continue to love you. I never thought I’d believe in Divine intervention, but something tells me that you were meant to find me in this lifetime, and all the ones before it, and after. You make me better, you challenge me in the best ways, you make me laugh and cry, you make me calm and comfortable. You make me fucking happy. I never knew I’d find someone as incredible and wonderful as you, but trust me when I say I’ll never let you go. You’re my person, baby, and you’re all I need.”

Did he have to be so perfect?

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Charles LeClerc: the engagement Charles sat in the restaurant, his mind far away from you in front of him. He had to somehow make you want to go down to the beach, somehow make you -

“Charles I know you’re breaking up with me tonight so just get it over with, alright?” You sighed. It had been months of him being distant and awkward. Months of him being absent even when he was right in front of you, months of him being secretive and guarded. You were done.

It sucked because you loved him, but he didn’t love you anymore, at least, that’s what you thought.

He looked at you horrified. He snapped out of his shock and stared at you. “What?”

“Please just get it over with Charles, I get it you don’t-“

“No! No! You don’t get ‘it’, please just hear me out?” He was clearly causing a scene, but he didn’t seem to care. If it was between not losing you and not making a scene, he was choosing to make a scene every single time.

“Charles!” You scolded. “Keep your voice down!”

He nodded. “Just… wait until after dinner, alright? Please?”

You scoffed. “You seriously care that little about my time? Charles, stop stringing me along! It’s been a year and a half of wasted time now.”

“Wasted?” He questioned.

“You don’t love me anymore, it’s fine! I get it. Just… let me leave with a piece of my dignity still intact, alright?”

“Please my love, just wait until after dinner,” he asked, checking his watch.

“Fuck you Charles,” you sighed, getting up to leave.

It was now or never.

“Marry me!” He exclaimed as the restaurant went quiet. You turned back to face him with a shocked expression. He was down on one knee with the most beautiful ring in a little red box in his hands.

“Charles…?”

“Please let me speak. I know I have been distant lately, but I just knew I would end up spoiling the surprise. You know how bad I am at lying, especially to you. I’m sorry, my love, please don’t walk out on us like this. I love you. More than anything, I love you. I want to be with you forever.”

You nodded silently, tears flowing as you stood there, shocked. You thought this was a break-up dinner, but really, it was the start of the rest of your lives.

Did you just do a reverse Elle Woods?

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

Max Verstappen: family drama at the wedding

Of course, knowing Jos, you knew there would be drama at the wedding. It was inevitable. Your father hated Jos and your family hated him too. They couldn’t understand why Max’s father could be such a monster to such a sweet man. To be honest, you didn’t understand either. Max was the most caring and gentle man you’d ever known, and you honestly didn’t understand how he’d become the man he was with the absolute asshole of a father he had.

“I’m sorry,” Max whispered in your ear as you both changed for the ceremony. Jos had started a fight with your dad about walking you down the aisle that had set the whole ceremony back by about 40 minutes. Max was so embarrassed. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

You just smiled, ever the understanding saint, in his eyes. “Max, do you think I give a shit about how we get married?”

He nodded.

“I don’t. It could’ve been in a factory, a pig stye, a fucking metal concert, I don’t care. Tonight, when we go to bed and wake up tomorrow, we will wake up as husband and wife. That’s what I care about. I care that I’m your wife, and you’re my husband. I care about you.” He teared up. “You’re sure?”

“About you?” You asked and he nodded. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

Max would always have you, you'd always have him. That was the important thing.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen @yootvi

492 notes · View notes