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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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NUMBER ONE

A/N: i've been dying to post this fic for so long! i wrote this first so it's been sitting in my drafts for over a month, if not two haha! it's a good old fake dating trope with personal assistant reader, one of my fav things! happy holidays to you all, hope you are having a loving time!🎁

PAIRING: Harry Styles X PA!Reader

WORD COUNT: 10.3k

masterlist

This fic is part of ❄️ FANFICmas 2021 ❄️ Read more about fanficmas here!

“What do you mean you can’t come?! You promised me a month ago, Jonathan!”

Holding the phone to your ear you have a finger in your other to hear whatever he is saying on the other end of the line. The concert is still on and it’s almost impossible to find a spot backstage where you can actually hear something, not when Harry is blowing the place up, just as usual.

“I know! I’m sorry, but you know my brother is the only one in the family with a driver’s license other than me and he broke his fucking ankle, now I have to be the chauffeur for all my aunts during the holidays!” he growls in frustration.

“Then get a real chauffeur! Or can’t you drive them around after you’ve spent the night at mine?”

“Just tell your mom something came up for me, okay? And that I’m really sorry, I wish I could be there blah blah blah. I’m sorry, Y/N, okay? I really wanted to help you, but I can’t.”

Closing your eyes you take a deep breath, trying your best to hold your tears back.

You should have known this whole plan was the worst idea you’ve ever had, but when you’re desperate there’s nothing that sounds too ridiculous. The plan was to bring Jonathan home for Christmas so he can pretend to be your boyfriend and your family would stop bugging you about being single now that your sister is engaged. When Leila called you with the news a month ago you were extremely happy but you also knew you would never hear the end of it that your sister, who is three years younger than you is engaged and you don’t even have a boyfriend.

“I have a busy schedule and I’m focusing on my career,”you tell them every time, but they think it’s just a lame excuse. Well, it is an excuse, but you wouldn’t say it’s lame. It’s the truth, you don’t have much time left next to the tasks you carry with being a superstar’s personal assistant and tour manager at the same time. It’s a killer combo, but you love the challenges and you love the job. Your mother however thinks you’ll never find a husband if you keep working in this pace and she is already praying for your soul even though you’re only twenty-seven, you have plenty of time.

And besides… you’re not quite interested in dating. Not when the man of your dreams is right in front of you and he also happens to be your boss.

“It’s fine,” you mumble into the phone.

“I’ll make it up to you, okay?”

“Sure. I gotta go,” you sigh when you hear the last song starting.

You end the call with a bitter goodbye and take a moment to yourself to think about the trouble you brought on yourself. When your mom kept bringing up your nonexistent dating life over the phone you couldn’t take it anymore and opened your big mouth, telling her that you’d be bringing someone home for Christmas. Not anyone, your boyfriend. Which you obviously don’t have. Jonathan is your only straight male friend who you’d trust with the situation and it took some time to convince him to do it, but at last he agreed to be your fake boyfriend, however his brother’s accident screwed it all up and you’re supposed to fly home in a few days with him but… it’s gone to shit and you’re gonna have to explain to your family why you’re alone again.

It seems like a frown is etched onto your face, because as Harry runs off the stage, sweaty and high on adrenaline he freezes as he sees you, a quizzed look in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you grumble. “Go and get ready to leave,” you tell him, sending out a few texts, avoiding to look at him. When he doesn’t move for several moments your eyes snap up at him. “Would you not be a pain in the ass and do what I asked?”

“Woah, what’s gotten your panties twisted?” he asks with a frown, but heads to his dressing room finally and you walk along him, busying yourself with your phone.

“I said nothing. I’m gonna go and talk to head of security. Meet me at the car in thirty.”

Harry wants to question your sudden change of act, but he has no chance as you run off to do your work.

Running your usual rounds in the venue you make sure everything is going smooth, the arena is slowly emptying out and the stage crew starts to take the stage apart and load everything into the trucks. For a little bit you forget about having to face your family, but as soon as you head out to the car to meet Harry it comes back clashing down on you.

“You’re starting to worry me, Y/N. You look like the world is about to end,” Harry comments on your act once again as the two of you climb into the car and head back to the hotel.

“If the world ended today I would be the happiest,” you mumble barely audible, but he still catches your words.

“You sound like an emo teen, would you just tell me what got you so upset?”

“I’m upset because I’m stupid!” you groan, folding your arms on your chest. The driver starts the car and you roll out of the parking lot, passing by hoards of fans, but neither of you care about them now. Harry is watching you intently as you load your problems out on him. “Jonathan was supposed to come home with me for Christmas, but his brother broke his fucking ankle so he can’t come and I have to go home alone!”

“Okay, I feel like I’m missing something,” Harry comments, eyes narrowed at you. “Why was he supposed to go home with you?”

Pursing your lips you think about telling him a lie. You don’t necessarily want him to know that you’re so desperate you told your mother you have a boyfriend when you’re as single as you can get. This is something only crazy people do who think that their life is a movie.

“I, uhh… I might or might have not told my mother that I have a boyfriend who I’m bringing home for Christmas. And that boyfriend was supposed to be Jonathan.”

“Wait, what?” he grimaces. “You’re dating Jonathan?”

“I’m not!” you growl rolling your eyes. “I just wanted him to pretend like we’re dating.”

“But… why exactly?”

Sighing sadly, you turn to stare out the window, the flickering lights of the city passing by you in a blur. You’ve never told anyone in details about what it was like to grow up with your sister. She was just always better than you. Prettier, more popular, she nailed everything in life. She was a cheerleader in high school and of course, prom queen, she’s been dating her boyfriend since the eleventh grade, she got into Columbia with scholarship and now she is working a perfect job, lives in a perfect house with the perfect man who’ll marry her soon.

You never blamed her. You couldn’t hold it against her that she had everything she wanted. It’s the way your family always treated the situation. You weren’t popular, didn’t get to be prom queen, hell you almost didn’t even go to prom because no one asked you out. You dropped out of college and started as an assistant in a law firm before you ventured over to celebrities. Two years ago you landed this spot next to Harry and you’re proud of what you accomplished, however your parents don’t feel quite the same. You never hear the end of it that you didn’t finish school, but Leila did, that your job is not the type they generally consider serious, but Leila’s is, or that you haven’t had a serious relationship in five years, unlike Leila… Nothing you do is good enough or just simply… enough.

You just wanted one Christmas when you’re not the disgrace of the family. Apparently, you wished for way too much.

“Doesn’t matter, Harry,” you mumble, shaking your head softly.

He remains silent and you’re convinced the topic is dropped, but when you reach the hotel and the two of you are heading up in the elevator, he breaks the silence and almost makes you faint.

“I could go home with you and pretend to be your boyfriend.” You turn to him with wide eyes, fully convinced that he is just pulling your leg, but he seems serious.

“Excuse me?”

“I could do it. Only if you haven’t told your parents that it’s Jonathan, because then we would have some problems with the change…” he muses.

“I-I didn’t tell them, but… Harry, you can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you can’t.”

The elevator arrives and you’re quick to storm out heading to your room, but Harry catches up with you in a heartbeat.

“I totally can and I’m willing to do it, Y/N.”

“You can’t! They know you’re my boss!” you shush him, but he just rolls his eyes.

“So what? That doesn’t mean we can’t be a couple.” You ignore the way your heart skips a beat as Harry talks about the two of you as a couple. This is not exactly the setting you imagined it come up.

“Harry,” you sigh stopping in the middle of the hallway. “This is just… ridiculous, okay? The whole thing was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have even come up with it. I’ll just tell them the truth.”

“Well… if you change your mind, you know where to find me,” he shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Of course I know, I’m the one who puts your schedule together,” you scoff and he just grins at you before walking up to his room and disappearing inside.

Not even twenty-four hours later you’re sipping on your afternoon coffee in a different city, laptop in front of you on the small table of the hotel bar, going through loads of emails, making calls to all parts of the globe. You’ll head to the venue soon to check out how the stage building is going, it’s been your usual for months now, life on the road.

Your fingers are typing away fast on the keyboard when you spot the familiar figure approaching you from the corner of your eyes. You don’t have to look up to know it’s Harry, wearing a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, a coffee in his hands as he lazily walks up to your table and takes a seat, inviting himself into your company.

“Have you thought about it?” he hums, stirring the black liquid as he stares out the window.

“I think about a million things a day, you have to be more specific,” you answer in a flat tone, eyes still glued to the screen.

It’s been the dynamic you built up. You like to be sarcastic, a bit rude to him but he always knows it’s just a game. It helps you keep a very fragile wall between the two of you so you don’t fall for him even more and at least you can do your job. Though Harry likes the bickering, even fuels it as much as he can, enjoying the little remarks and teasing.

“The Christmas thing,” he adds, taking a sip from the coffee, sliding lower in his chair.

“I have not,” you mumble, but it’s a total lie. It’s all you’ve been thinking about since he offered to be your fake boyfriend. You haven’t been able to wrap your mind around the absurdity of it: your boss, who you’re in love with, coming home with you for Christmas to pretend to be your fake boyfriend. This straight up sounds like the plot of a Netflix movie.

“Okay, then think now. Because I’ve thought and I came up with a few things that would convince you.”

“Harry, I’m working. My job doesn’t end when you run off the stage, alright?” you sigh, leaning back in your seat, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“You’re just answering Jeff’s million emails, that can wait,” he says and simply shuts the laptop down, your eyes widening.

“Are you fucking crazy?!”

“I am, but what’s new?” he smirks at you, crossing one leg over the other. “So. I’m the perfect candidate to be your fake boyfriend, because I know everything about you. We’ve been practically living together, I know the way a boyfriend would know you.”

“Harry, can you just—“

“Second, I’ve met your mother and I totally charmed her, she would love me!”

“You’re giving yourself way too much credit, H,” you roll your eyes.

“Come on, don’t tell me I wouldn’t make her swoon as your boyfriend!”

It’s hard to admit, but he is right. Your parents might not like your career choice, but they love Harry. They think he is the greatest person in the celebrity world and your mother even said that you should quit your job and just date him. As if that was so easy…

“Alright, third. I assume we would have to sleep in the same room so we would have to share a bed and we’ve done that before. Wouldn’t be a problem this time either.”

“Harry, how long did you spend thinking about these stuff?” you huff, your head rolling back as you let out a frustrated groan.

“Enough to make the perfect plan,” he smirks proudly. “Come on, it’s gonna be fun!”

“No, it’s not,” you shake your head right away. “You don’t know the shitshow that goes down on Christmas in our family.”

“It’s a shitshow everywhere, I can manage,” he shrugs.

“And how do you plan to explain to your mother that you won’t be home for Christmas on time?”

“Mum’s in quarantine, one of her girlfriends tested positive so now she is locked up as well. It ends after Christmas so we’re celebrating later.”

“I can’t believe you have an answer to everything,” you scoff in disbelief. “Why are you so desperate to do this?”

“Because I wanna help you! I can tell it’s something important to you and you do so much for me, I could finally do something for you! Just let me help!” he begs, running a hand through his hair and god, he looks way too good for your league. No one will believe you scored Harry Styles…

“I don’t…”

“Come on!” he groans in frustration. “It’s gonna be fun, we can spend some time together without any work loading on us. When was the last time we did that?”

“You took me out to dinner on my birthday,” you answer without a second thought, because you’re definitely keeping tabs on the times you spent alone with Harry.

“That’s right, but that’s been so long,” he whines. “I’ll be your best fake boyfriend, your family will fall in love with me and they are gonna finally get out of your hair about being single.”

“I never told you this is why I’m doing it,” you narrow your eyes at him.

“Y/N, I know you,” he smiles at you softly. “You’ve complained to me several times how your parents just keep bugging you to get a boyfriend and your sister just got engaged. You don’t want to go home alone and listen to them dragging you down because Leila is getting married and you’re not.”

You never thought he paid attention, not this much at least. But it seems like Harry remembered everything you told him and it’s making your chest ache. It would be easier to keep your emotions out of the equation if only he wasn’t the greatest man alive, always so caring and thoughtful. You’re afraid that if you’ll pretend to be dating Harry your heart will get broken, even more than it already is. That’s why you’re so adamant about not accepting his offer.

“You’ll have someone to complain to all Christmas, I think that’s a great deal, Y/N,” he smirks at you, slurping up the rest of his black coffee.

Just as you’re about to answer him, your phone starts to ring and the words die on your tongue as you reach for the device.

“I have to take this,” you mumble. Harry nods and standing up he grabs his empty cup.

“Think about it some more,” he softly tells you, giving your shoulder a squeeze before walking away. You pay one last glance after him before turning back towards your phone and answering the call.

It’s the last show before everyone is heading home for the holidays. The tour dragged longer than it was planned at the beginning, more and more shows were added, because Harry just wants to give the people what they want. That’s how you ended up with the last show being so close to Christmas.

Harry is on stage now, talking to a fan whose sign just asked for dating advice, he is wearing a magenta suit, of course, no shirt underneath. His smile is beaming as he is talking about how they should never trust a man who forgets their birthday and you’ve always found it funny how wise he can get when he is definitely no expert in dating. After all, he is just about to pretend to be your boyfriend for the holidays, what kind of sane man agrees to do that?

Fixing your mask you step out to the arena to the secluded area where crew members can get a glimpse of the show. You stay close to the wall, watching him parade on the stage, another rainbow flag glued to his hands, just like about every night. There’s no doubt this is his element, the place where he is himself the most and you’ve always admired how open he can get with thousands of people around him.

It’s not a surprise you fell for him, how could you not? You hit it off instantly when you started working for him at the beginning, an odd but deep friendship forming between the two of you quite fast. Being vulnerable with Harry feels like second nature, he is a great listener and has a magic power to get you to trust him right away. One month into knowing him it felt like you’ve known him all your life.

And loved him all your life.

While you shared almost every detail of your life with him, he has seen you at your best and worst, bought you tampons in the middle of the night and held your hair as you threw up from food poisoning, there was one thing you could never tell him: how badly you fell in love with him.

You know you’ll never get to have him the way you want. It just wasn’t meant to be, no matter how painful it is to accept it. But as you watch him sing his heart out on stage, the ache to get closer to him just grows and you’re desperate to get just a tiny slice of him.

That’s when you make up your mind that you’ll let him go home with you and pretend to be your boyfriend. Because if that’s the only way you can have him… you’re gonna take it.

It’s an emotional moment as Harry leaves the stage for the last time, he is throwing kisses everywhere, bowing and waving around before he runs behind the curtains where you’re already waiting for him.

“Great job,” you pat him on the back, the two of you heading to his dressing room.

“Thanks. Gonna miss this a lot,” he sighs, chest still heaving as he is trying to catch his breath. “When are you leaving tomorrow?” he asks, pushing the door to his dressing room open and you follow him inside, closing it behind so it’s just the two of you. He gets rid of the mask as he starts unbuttoning his shirt, his suspenders already hanging from his waist.

“You mean… when are we leaving?” you ask, biting into your bottom lip. He freezes and then his head snaps around to look at you, a cheesy grin already growing on his lips. “I thought about what you said and… if you’re still up for it, I would appreciate it if you came home with me to… pretend to be my boyfriend. God, this sounds so stupid,” you groan shaking your head.

“Oh, you won’t regret it, Y/N,” he chuckles and walking closer he yanks you into his arms, hugging you tight, almost knocking the air out of your lungs. “This is gonna be so much fun!”

“Yeah,” you mumble against his shoulder. “I really hope so.”

“Would you relax? You definitely don’t look like you’re happy to bring your boyfriend home.”

Harry places a hand over your bouncing knee as he pulls up to your parents’ house, your anxiety rising high when it comes into your vision. It’s decorated exactly the same as every year, your mother never buys new decorations, not even when they start to look rusty and worn down.

You shoot Harry an awfully fake smile, but he just chuckles as he places his hand back at the wheel.

“I will not take the blame for any emotional or mental trauma you might suffer from while you’re here, alright?” you remind him again.

“Yup, you want me to sign a contract?” he teases you smirking and you just smack his chest playfully.

He pulls up to the driveway and you see the curtains move in the window so it’s just a matter of seconds for your mother to burst out the front door and attack the two of you. You still haven’t told them who your alleged boyfriend is and she’ll probably flip when she realizes that it’s Harry.

“Get ready, babe,” Harry smirks as the two of you get out of the car and the front door flies open just as you expected.

“Finally!” your mom runs out, hands in the air as she approaches the two of you. You walk around the car, joining Harry by the driver’s side, his arm coming to curl around your shoulders to pull you to his side and you swallow hard, plastering a smile on your face, watching your mother finally realize who you’ve just brought home. She stops, mouth hangs open, covering it with her hands as she stares and you and Harry with wide eyes, while the man on your side is just smiling at her sweetly, always the charmer.

“Oh my God! Y/N, why didn’t you tell me?!” she screeches before taking the rest of the way to you, pulling you into a hug.

“Don’t freak out, okay? I wanted it to be a surprise,” you grit through your teeth as you hug her back before she turns to Harry, arms wrapping around him as well.

“I surely am surprised! Oh my, I was not expecting you, son!” she cheers, patting Harry’s dimply cheeks.

“It’s so nice to see you again Mrs. Y/L/N.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, just call me Martha!”

“Alright,” Harry chuckles, his hand coming to rest on your back. “Hope you don’t mind Y/N didn’t tell you about me, but we’ve been keeping it low.”

“Oh, I understand, though I’m a bit hurt you thought I wouldn’t keep my mouth about it!” she jokes. “But let’s forget about it, come on in! Don’t freeze out here. I’ve just made hot chocolate. Leila and Stanley will be here in a bit too, they are on their way already.”

Unloading your stuff from the car you head inside, your dad coming from the kitchen with a steaming mug in his hand when he spots the two of you, his eyebrows shooting up upon seeing Harry with you.

“You’re dating your boss?” he asks right away, no filter on him at all.

“Dad!” you roll your eyes at him, Harry just grinning next to you.

“What? Is he not your boss?”

“He is, but… it’s not like that, alright? We don’t work in an office or something like that.”

“That I know,” he mumbles and you bite your tongue not to comment on his words. “Well, welcome back, Harry.”

He extends his hands for your boyfriend and he takes it with a soft smile.

“Nice to see you again. And I know this might be a bit weird, but I assure you that we do everything we can to keep our relationship separated from work. It’s been going well.”

“I’m not one to judge,” your dad shrugs. “Worked with your mother when we got together,” he smirks, patting Harry’s shoulder and you let out a long breath. This could have gone better, but it’s not as disastrous as you’ve imagined it. Nice start.

The two of you bring your bags up to your old room, having a few moments to yourself as you close the door saying you’ll unpack.

“This went well, right?” Harry hum, sitting down to the edge of your bed and you try to ignore how weird it is to see him in your old room, the one you grew up in.

“It was fine. But I think Leila will be more skeptical than them, so we gotta convince her.”

“No problem,” he smirks confidently.

Not too much later you hear the front door open and close downstairs, your sister’s voice hitting your ear as she and her fiancé are welcoming your parents. You take a deep breath, mentally bracing yourself for the meeting.

“Okay, come on. Let’s say hi to them,” you say Harry, who’s been lying across the bed flipping through your high school yearbook until now. Shutting the book closed he jumps to his feet and follows you out of the room.

You spot Leila at the bottom of the stairs, Stanley right behind her and they look just the same as you remembered them.

“Hey! There you are!” she greets you with a bright smile when she sees you walking down the stairs, Harry trailing behind you. “And Harry! Hi!”

She doesn’t seem surprised to see Harry and the way they hug got you suspicious. Leila doesn’t seem fazed at all that Harry is the one she is seeing by your side.

“So, um… I know I didn’t tell you about it, but Harry is… the one I’m dating.” you explain, the words feel strange and unfamiliar on your tongue.

“That’s great!” she beams, but no trace of surprise is seen on her face still. Something is off. “Oh, let me put the tiramisu into the fridge,” she rushes off, Stanley following her behind with their bags as you turn to face Harry.

“What the fuck is going on?”

“What do you mean?” he asks with an innocent look.

“Leila doesn’t seem surprised to see you, you know anything about that?”

“That’s because I told her,” he answers as if it was the most usual thing ever, but you don’t share his opinion.

“What do you mean you told her?”

“I talked to her and told her that I’m the one you’re dating and you’re bringing me home for Christmas.”

“What the fuck?! When did that happen? And why are you talking to my sister?!”

It seems like you’re the only one who is shocked by the information, Harry doesn’t seem too shaken up by any of it. If anything, he is looking at you like you’re crazy.

“Talked to her on the phone yesterday. Why is that so shocking to you?”

“Because I didn’t know you were just casually making calls to my sister!”

“You talk to my sister all the time.”

“But that’s different! I’m your assistant, I need to keep in touch with the people around you.”

“I don’t think gossiping with my sister is your job,” Harry smirks at you. “I’ve kept in touch with your sister since I met her last year. Thought I would let her know that you’re bringing me.”

“And do you think she believed that we’re dating?” you nervously ask, glancing towards the kitchen where you can see Leila already arguing about something with your mom. When you look back at Harry he seems a little hesitant, but it disappears from his eyes pretty quickly.

“Don’t worry, she didn’t even question it. Come on, let’s mingle a little.” He puts a hand to your back, guiding you after the rest of your family, though you’re not quite in the mood to put up an act for now. However you don’t have much of a choice.

Somehow, you manage to survive the first day at home. Harry was right, he charmed the shit out of your mother and by the time dinner was over you were sure she was more in love with him than you. Your dad seemed a little skeptical at first, but it didn’t take long for Harry to warm him up and they sat down for dinner like old pals. Everyone seems to love Harry and the fact that you’re dating him.

It’s a shame it’s all just one big lie.

Wrapping yourself up in a thick blanket you grab your tea from the kitchen counter and head out to the sunroom to join Leila, Stanley and Harry for a late night chat. Your parents are already out, your mom is gonna be up by six probably in the morning to start everything for the big family gathering tomorrow, so it’s just the four of you.

It’s too cold to sit on the porch, that’s why you decided to take the evening to the sunroom where your mom keeps most of her precious plants. Arriving you see that you’re the only one drinking tea, an open bottle of wine sits on the table, Everyone nursing a glass of the red liquid as you hold your steaming mug in your hands, sitting down next to Harry. He’s been drinking a bit throughout the evening, though he is not drunk, and you know how touchy he can get with some alcohol in his system, but you still get surprised when he curls an arm around your shoulders and tugs you to his side.

“Apple and cinnamon?” he asks with a lazy smile, sniffing the air that smells from your tea.

“Yeah. You want to try?” you ask, voice barely more than just a whisper. You haven’t been able to get used to the little touches and looks you’ve been getting from Harry. You keep telling yourself not to fall too comfortable into this role, because it’s all fake, but it’s hard to draw the lines.

“No, I’m good, but thank you,” he smiles at you, taking a sip from his own drink.

“Oh my God, you two are the cutest,” Leila sighs and you look at her, meeting her dreamy eyes as she sits cuddled up to Stan’s side. “You haven’t told us how it happened, I wanna hear the story!”

You purse your lips, looking up at Harry you share a glance and he is the one speaking up first.

“It just… kinda happened. I slowly grew some balls and asked her out one day.”

“So you were always into her?” Stan asks.

“Since day one,” he answers, but his eyes are locked on yours and the damn butterflies in your stomach are going crazy. It’s really hard to remind yourself that it’s all just an act, especially when his fingers are delicately dancing on your arm and shoulder.

“And how did you ask her out? Did you just blurt it out or did you plan it?” Leila asks in excitement.

Harry’s eyes shift to his drink as he runs his tongue across his lips, probably coming up with a story he can feed them and you wonder what he’ll say.

“It was at the beginning of tour, just a few shows into it, in Dallas to be precise. She was in my room before the night of the show, going over my schedule for the next few weeks and I was trying to decide if I wanted to shave or not. We had some wine, just chilling and taking it slow,” he starts and you realize that this evening actually happened, you still remember it.

“She was lying on my bed on her stomach, typing so fast on her phone, I wondered how her thumbs haven’t fallen off,” he chuckles and you can’t push down a smile either. “Maybe it was the alcohol or I just finally came around and figured out what I want in life, but I sat down, took her phone and she whined, but I just stared at her smiling and… asked her to have dinner with me in the next city. Then she asked if I wanted her to reserve a table and if anyone else was coming, but I told her that it was just gonna be the two of us, because it’s gonna be our first date.”

Your lips part and your chest aches as your eyes are glued to his. He described that evening perfectly, everything happened like that except he never asked you out. When he grabbed your phone from you, he just stared at you as you whined and asked for it back and he cocked his head to the side before handing it back to you at last, walking back into the bathroom.

“That sounds just like Y/N, thinking that it’s a group thing,” Leila chuckles, snapping you back from your thoughts, you definitely got lost in the memory and the way Harry is staring at you right now.

“Uh, yeah,” you chuckle nervously, bringing your mug to your lips to busy yourself with something, but you were too fast with that and the hot drink burns your tongue.

“I kind of always knew you two would end up together,” Leila muses and you can feel your cheeks heating up.

“Sure you did,” you mumble to yourself, religiously avoiding to look at Harry for the rest of the evening.

You head up to your rooms about an hour later when the wine has run out and you’ve been yawning for a while. Leila and Stanley take her old room while you retreat into yours, Harry following behind and for a hot minute you forgot that you have to sleep in the same bed, but reality comes crashing down on you when he closes the door and it’s just the two of you after being surrounded by your family all day.

You use the bathroom first while Harry lies in bed, scrolling on his phone before it’s his turn. You’ve never been more anxious to sleep next to him, this whole day just turned your world upside down and now you have to share a bed with him, even though it’s not the first time. He has crashed in your hotel room several times not just on this tour but on several trips you’ve taken around the globe since you’ve started working for him.

Placing your rings to the nightstand you cocoon on your side of the bed, pulling the covers up to your ears as you lie on your side, facing the wall. The bathroom door opens and you listen to Harry fumbling around in the room until the mattress dips behind you and he makes himself comfortable on his side. Just when you think he’s gonna go to sleep without a word he speaks up.

“Are you mad at me?”

Turning around you give him a puzzled look.

“Why would I be?” you ask, your heart beating like crazy.

“Because you’ve been so quiet since Leila asked how we got together. Did I say something wrong?”

The two of you are lying now facing each other, your hands tucked under your head as you take just a split second to adorn his handsome face squished into your pillow. You wonder why everyone believed so easily that you’re a couple when he is clearly way out of your league.

“I’ve been just tired. My mother can be a bit too much all at once,” you say, forcing out a tiny smile.

“Are you sure that’s all?”

“Of course.”

“Okay,” he hums nodding into the pillow. “Tomorrow is the big day? Your whole family is coming over?”

“Yeah. Grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, the whole fam,” you chuckle softly, a smile tugging on his lips too.

“Alright, I’ll switch into full boyfriend mode.”

“Was it not that today?” you tease, making him chuckle.

“Kinda, but I can put some extra into it.”

“No need, you already charmed everyone.”

“Everyone? You included?” he asks teasingly, no clue how on spot that question was.

“Don’t get too cocky,” you warn him, trying to mask your real emotions.

“Okay, I’ll take it as a yes,” he grins, clearly pleased with himself. “Good night, Y/N.”

“Night, Harry,” you sigh, turning back around, your heart pounding in your chest and you can only hope he can’t hear it in the silence.

The house is packed and it’s not even nine am. You didn’t joke when you told Harry that it’s gonna be a shitshow. Your mom has three sisters, each of them at least two kids, but Aunt Carol spent her twenties popping babies out one after the other, gifting you with five cousins alone, so your home would be full if only they came over, but that’s not an option. You’re trying to fetch yourself a coffee, but your cousin Annabelle’s twin daughters have been running in circles in the kitchen, making you trip over them almost three times in the past thirty seconds. Today is going to be way too long and tiring.

If it wasn’t enough, the morning was kind of awkward.

Your bed is not the same size as the ones you’ve shared in hotels before, so you and Harry ended up tangled in each other sometime in the night and when you opened your eyes you were met with his chest, his arms draped over your figure as you were hugging his waist under the covers. You were so shocked, for a minute you didn’t even know what to do, then he woke up too, hugged you even tighter for a second before he realized the position you were in.

It was a bunch of sorry and no worries and awkward fumbling and mumbling before you jumped out of the bed and locked yourself up in the bathroom. You never plan to talk about it again, but it’ll be stuck in your head probably forever.

“Good morning!” Harry greets everyone walking into the kitchen, dressed in a pair of light washed jeans and a simple red sweater. He looks so cozy, you almost want to bury your face in his chest, but you just stare back at him, stirring your coffee, not even realizing that you should introduce him to the people he hasn’t met. Luckily, your mother takes the situation into her own hands.

“Isn’t it great that Y/N finally has a boyfriend?” your mom enthuses to your aunts and you just roll your eyes, sipping on your coffee. “I was starting to get worried that she’ll be alone forever!”

“Mom, I’m only twenty-six. It’s not like I was behind or something,” you scoff at her.

“You haven’t had a boyfriend in so long, we all thought you’d just given up to even look!” she laughs as if she just told the joke of the year, but you’re not laughing at all.

“I’ve been busy, I’ve been working a lot to get here in my career. I’m holding two positions on a sold out tour, that doesn’t leave much time to look.”

“One of those positions is an assistant, honey. Those are never too hard, I assume,” she smiles innocently and you’re quite close to throw the mug at the wall screaming. But before you could react, Harry steps over to you, pulling you in front of him, his arms snaking around your waist from behind as he keeps you tight to his chest.

“Well, it’s not,” he speaks up calmly. “I usually work on at least three projects at the same time and Y/N is the person who keeps it all together. If it wasn’t for her, my career would be literally over. And beside all that, she is tour manager, she stays in contact with about a hundred people on the daily basis and she makes sure everything goes as smooth as possible. I can assure you that Y/N works harder than anyone and I’m so grateful for her, every day.”

Everyone in the room is stunned from Harry’s little speech and you have to blink a few times before you can even move. Harry just smiles around before his eyes fall on you and he simply kisses your cheek before his arms fall from around your waist and he moves to pour himself some coffee.

Your mom just mumbles something that resembles a sorry before she is called away, your aunts leaving as well so it’s just you and Harry left in the kitchen for a few minutes.

“Hey,” you softly say, standing next to him as he is sitting at the kitchen island. “Thanks for… standing up for me.”

“Just told them the truth,” he smiles at you, his hand finding yours on the counter, squeezing it gently. “I hope you do know that you’re amazing at what you do, keeping everything together. I’m sorry your mom doesn’t see how huge it is.”

“Nothing is serious to her other than being a lawyer or a doctor,” you scoff rolling your eyes.

“She has pretty high standards,” he chuckles softly. “But if that makes a change… I’m really proud of you, Y/N.”

“Thanks,” you breathe out. If only he knew how much that means to you…

Somehow you survive the first part of the day without breaking down fully and it has a lot to do with Harry on your side. Every time one of your aunts or your mom or one of your nosy cousins comments on something about you, he swoops right in and not only stands up for you, but he always makes sure to keep you grounded and calm, touching you in any way he could. A hand on your arm or back, sweet and tiny glances and smiles, an arm curled around your shoulders or waist, he’s been really good at this pretending and if you didn’t know better you’d think that he is doing all of this for real.

Sometime after lunch you get caught up in a raging game of Scrabble and you lose track of Harry. When Uncle Thomas wins the third round, using words you all think are made up but he proves over and over again that they aren’t, you leave the table to look for Harry and make sure your family hasn’t wrecked him.

Walking upstairs you hear his voice coming from your room and as you get closer you realize that he is not alone, Leila is in there with him. As you appear at the door their conversation comes to an abrupt stop and Harry jumps to his feet as if he was just caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing.

“Hey, everything alright in here?” you ask, eyes switching between the two of them.

“Of course, we just had a little talk,” Leila smiles at you sweetly, standing up from the edge of the bed. You catch them share a look and your stomach drops, something is going on, but you have no idea what it is and it seems like they are keen to keep it away from you. In the matter of just a few seconds, your anxiety and darkest thoughts take over your mind and you come to the worst possible conclusion.

What if Harry is into your sister? He kept in touch with her all this time and now they are sneaking away from the rest of the family, this looks awfully upsetting, but you can’t let your mask fall.

“Hey, do you maybe want to take a walk?” Harry asks stepping closer to you, but this one time you want to keep some distance between the two of you.

“Um, I’m not feeling too good.”

“Oh, what’s wrong?”

“Just… I think I’m gonna take a quick nap, if that’s alright,” you mumble.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Leila asks, worry lacing through her voice and you just nod, forcing out a smile.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

She leaves so you can have some peace and you get to bed, pulling the covers over yourself, realizing that Harry is still in the room. He comes to sit on the edge of the bed next to you, brushing your hair out of your hair with a soft touch and it churns your stomach.

“Do you need anything?”

“No, I’ll just rest a bit. I promise I’ll be fine,” you smile at him and he doesn’t seem convinced, but nods anyway and leaves, closing the door behind him.

You’ve done this before, got yourself over the fact that you’ll never have a chance at Harry. But this time it hurts even more, because you got a glimpse of what it would be like if he was yours and now your heart is breaking more than ever.

An hour later when you wake up you feel a tad bit better or at least good enough to get back to pretending. While you were out, Harry befriended the younger ones in the house and as you get downstairs you find him in the living room, focused on a coloring book, all the other kids doing the same thing around the coffee table. When he spots you, he abandons his work and he is quick to get to his feet and rush over to you.

“Hey, how are you feeling? Any better?” His hand moves to check your forehead in case you have a fever, but physically you’re alright.

“Yeah, I’m better,” you smile at him and he pulls you into a hug, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

For some reason, Harry doesn’t leave your side from that moment. He is just always around you, watching you like a hawk.

Dinner finally comes and you all gather around the table, naturally, you sit next to Harry and he keeps putting an arm onto the back of your chair as you both try to keep up with the conversation at the table.

“So when are you guys getting married?” You hear your cousin, Penelope ask and you don’t even look up, assuming the question was addressed to your sister, but the silence grabs your attention and when you raise your gaze you realize that she asked you.

“I’m sorry, what?” you chuckle nervously. “We’ve been dating for just a few months, P. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Come on, I’m sure you want to tie this dude down as fast as possible!” she jokes, more people joining in on the laughing while you just grit your teeth. Harry’s hand moves to your knee under the table and he gives it a gentle squeeze before handling the situation.

“We’re not in a rush. Got all the time in the world, right, love?”

The way he called you love has turned you into jelly and you can barely manage to hum an answer as he smiles at you warmly. God, you’re so gone for the man, it’s ridiculous.

“Y/N, would you please bring in the tiramisu from the fridge?” your mother asks and you nod, standing from the table, but Harry moves with you at the same time.

“Let me help.”

You don’t protest, just let him follow you into the kitchen, grabbing the two massive boxes filled with the dessert before heading back, but right as you cross the archway of the kitchen your grandma speaks up.

“Hold on! Stop right there!”

You freeze, Harry right beside you as you stare back at your grandma with a puzzled look, but she just smirks back at you and it’s giving you a sinister feeling.

“Look up, darling!” she tells you and you do just that, finding a mistletoe hanging right above you, your stomach dropping instantly.

“Grandma, come on!” you groan, anxiety rising in your gut.

“I’m not the one making the rules!” she chuckles sweetly and it’s infuriating that you still can’t be mad at her, when she is forcing you into your most awkward situation ever. You dare to glance at Harry just for a second, seeing him with a blank expression, nothing can be read from his face.

“It’s just a silly thing, we’re not gonna…”

“If it’s just a silly thing, then get over with it and you can come back to the table!” she pushes and you have to bite into your bottom lip to stop yourself from a remark.

This is it. This is the moment where you’ll just die from embarrassment, because you’re sure Harry will not go through with it, that would be way over the lines and also, it would be stupid of you to think he would ever be okay with it. So you start thinking about a way to get out of this, but you don’t get far.

Because the next second, Harry’s hand cups your face, he turns your head, angling your head for him before his lips press onto yours.

A round of gasps and exciting murmuring washes over the room, but you shut it all out, only focusing on how Harry’s lips are gently sucking on your bottom lip, kissing you for the first time ever. It doesn’t end in just a few seconds, because when his lips let go of yours he goes right back again, kissing you a little more confidently and this time you return it as well, deepening it just a tiny bit. Your free hand moves up his chest to the base of his neck as you try to wrap your head around what’s truly happening, though it surely feels like a dream. One you’ve already had several times, but none of them were as good as this one.

“Get a room!” one of your cousins laughs, her voice bringing you back to reality, so you pull back, shock plastered all over your face and Harry seems to be mirroring the expression as he stares back at you. But a moment later you force a smile on your face, not wanting to draw any attention.

The two of you walk back to the table, place the tiramisu to the two ends and take your previous seats as the conversation carries on while you sit there in total disbelief that you just kissed Harry under a damn mistletoe.

Well, technically he kissed you and that just makes you even more anxious, not knowing what went down in his head before he made the decision. You have absolutely no idea how you’re gonna move on from this.

Later, when most of your family has left, only those are still around who are spending the night, some of you move to the sunroom again with some wine and leftover for the hungry men. It’s Leila, Stan, Harry and you, two of your cousins, one of your uncles and his wife occupying the beat-up couches your mom has moved to the room a few years ago. This time you’re having some of that wine as well, the conversation is going well and since there’s not that much space, you’re pushed up against Harry’s side while he has an arm curled around your shoulders. Ever since that kiss under the mistletoe something has changed, you can feel it in not just him but yourself too, but you don’t know yet what it really is and you’re a bit scared to face him alone in bed tonight. But for now, you’re just enjoying having him close to you.

Excusing yourself you take a quick trip to the bathroom, fixing your smudged mascara in the mirror before heading back. Just as you near the room you stop, seeing Harry and Leila in a seemingly confidential conversation in there, they are leant closer, pulling themselves a bit away from the rest of the group and your throat closes up at the sight of them. After the kiss you were way too busy to think about what you suspected before about Harry and Leila, but now it hits you like a train.

You should have expected it, Leila was always better than you in every possible way, you were always just a shadow of what she was. When you were a senior and she was a freshman in high school, you remember some of the boys in your class coming up to you, asking if you could introduce them to her. She was always the first one men noticed, the stunning and the pretty sister out of the two of you, why would it have been different with Harry?

With trembling lips you turn around and decide to take a few more minutes alone before returning. Making your way into the empty living room you sit down in the dark to the couch, the only light source is the Christmas tree in the corner, painting the room in a red and yellow hue. You pull your knees up to your chest and try your best not to let the tears spill out of your eyes, but it’s hard to control your emotions after everything that happened in the past two days.

You get sucked into your own dark thoughts and doubts so much that you don’t even hear someone else coming in.

“Y/N?” Your head snaps up at the sound of Harry’s voice and you spot him slowly approaching you on the couch with a worried look on his face. “What are you doing here alone?” he softly asks, sitting down next to you.

“Yeah, I just… I needed a minute. Why did you come inside?”

“Because you’ve been gone for like fifteen minutes, I was worried about you. Is everything alright?” Reaching out his hand falls on your knee and he gives it a gentle squeeze, as if he is saying that he is here and listening.

“Sure. I’ll be out in a second. You just… go back and enjoy the evening, don’t worry about me.”

“Y/N, I always worry about you and you seemed a little shaken up all day.”

“Nothing is wrong, Harry. Just go back, Leila must be looking for you.”

You couldn’t help the petty, bitter comment and you can tell that it took him by surprise as well. But it’s been bottling up inside you all day and it slipped your mouth.

“Why would she?”

“Harry, I’m not blind,” you chuckle bitterly. “It’s not a surprise you like her, but I hope you know she is a risky business since she is engaged.”

“Excuse me?” he huffs in disbelief. “Are you implying that I’m into your sister?”

“It’s pretty obvious,” you mumble under your breath. “You kept in touch with her, talked to her on the phone even before we came here… And when I found the two of you in my room earlier? That seemed pretty intimate.” Your cheeks are burning, but hopefully the dim lighting is hiding your embarrassment that you even have to talk about it.

“That’s… You got the whole thing wrong, Y/N, let me explain.”

“You don’t need to explain your feelings for her, I get it, I’m used to it, it’s totally fine.”

“Would you shut up for a minute and let me talk?” he laughs amused and you finally close your mouth, giving him the chance to talk. “I did keep in touch with Leila but not to the extent you think and most of the time she was just asking if you were doing alright because you haven’t answered her texts. I called her before coming here because it felt odd to come here without telling here, that’s all. Sure, I like her, she is a nice girl but… I assure you that I have no feelings for her or whatsoever. When you caught us in your room…”

He takes a deep breath, like he is getting ready for some kind of announcement and you’re holding your breath, staring back at him intently.

“She figured out that we are not dating.”

“What?” you ask, all blood rushing out of your face.

“Yeah, she saw right through us. But she also saw through me,” he admits clearing his throat. “She wanted to talk to me because… okay, I’ll just say it. She asked if I’m into you, because it seems like that and I told her that I am.”

Your stomach drops, eyes widen and your lips part at his words and it feels like you’ve just entered a parallel universe, because there’s no way Harry just admitted that he is into you.

“I told her that I’ve been in love with you for probably as long as I’ve known you and she urged me to tell you, because she thinks you feel the same way. Then you came up and I suggested to go on a walk because I wanted to tell you, but you didn’t feel good, so I just… dropped it.”

He rubs his face in his hands, letting out a long sigh as he leans back and stares in front of him for a moment before he continues.

“Then that kiss happened at dinner…” A tiny smile tugs on his lips and your heart is fluttering in your chest. “That wasn’t how I imagined our first kiss happening, forced by your grandma in front of your whole family, but… It didn’t matter, I was seeing stars, Y/N. Fucking stars and it was just a kiss!” He lets out an amused chuckle and you can’t help but smile as you listen to him intently, a feeling in the back of your mind still bugging you that it’s just a fever dream. “Leila has been bugging me to tell you all day, but I just couldn’t find the right moment and this is not that either I’m pretty sure about that, but…” He turns to you and reaching out he tugs a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I don’t care anymore.”

There’s a few seconds of silence of the two of you just staring at each other, letting everything sink in and you have no idea what to do or say next.

“I literally just admitted to you that I’m in love with you and you haven’t said a word, Y/N. I’m starting to worry,” Harry speaks up chuckling and you can’t help the grin plastering across your face.

“I think that my jealousy scene was pretty obvious,” you mumble back and Harry reaches out, cupping your face in his palm, making you melt into his touch.

“I can’t believe you thought I was into your sister who is engaged!” he chuckles and you shoot him a narrow-eyed look.

“Hey! You acted suspicious! And you can’t blame me, my sister always came before me in everything.”

“Not for me,” he hums and you could cry from his words as he scoots closer, his hands grabbing a hold of your legs as he pulls them across his lap, his palms resting on your thighs. “You’ve always been my number one.”

“Always?” you ask in a whisper, your faces getting closer with each passing second and your hands find their way to the base of his neck, your noses bumping against each other.

“From day one, I told you,” he smirks at you cheekily. “Are you gonna say something to my confession or you’ll leave me hanging?”

“Your ego could use some humbling,” you tease him, though your heart is about to jump out of your ribcage.

“Not the time for that, baby,” he warns you playfully before he finally leans in, closing the distance between your lips, kissing you for the second time today.

It’s similar to the one you shared during dinner, but somehow different. There’s no anxiety and guessing about what it means or how the other is perceiving it, because it’s clearer than daylight.

Your hands cup his cheeks and he grasps your waist, pulling and positioning you until you’re straddling his lap and you can’t help the moan that slips through your lips, right into his mouth when your chest presses up against his. His kisses are slow but demanding and deep, he is taking his time savoring the moment, doing everything he couldn’t when your family was watching you with curious eyes earlier.

His lips move softly against yours, sucking and tugging on yours, tongues and teeth clashing, it’s a bit messy, but you don’t mind it. It’s perfect.

“Where did they—Oh!” Leila’s voice breaks the moment as she walks in, quickly stopping when she sees the two of you tangled up on the couch. You pull back, trying to pretend like you weren’t just making out on the couch like teenagers.

“Hi Leila,” Harry smirks as you hide your face in the crook of his neck, still sitting on his lap.

“Didn’t mean to disturb the lovebirds,” she grins widely, knowing exactly what she just walked into. “I wasn’t even here!” she calls out, going back to the sunroom.

“I think we got busted,” Harry murmurs, his fingers carding through your hair.

“We did. And she’ll tease me about it forever!” you groan, lifting your head. “We’ll never live this down, getting together after pretending to be dating.”

“Don’t care, would do it all over again,” he smirks pleased, eyes wandering down to your lips over and over again.

“This feels like a shitty Netflix Christmas movie,” you chuckle and leaning closer you wrap your arms around his neck, pecking his lips shortly.

“Shitty?” he gasps dramatically. “You’re talking about our relationship!”

“We have one?” you tease him.

“Of course,” he grins back. “Your last one.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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sukirichi · 3 years

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reckless [02.]

With a lackadaisical playboy as your boss, being reckless wasn’t an option. But on the one time you let loose and made mistakes, your life is shattered, and now you’re playing house with your insufferable boss who is the father of your baby.

✘ cw. angst, toxic situations

✘ note. yes, feel free to scream at me in the asks. but like don’t worry, i promise there’s more to come and there’s more to happen! it’s going to get fluffier as we go hehehehe. ALSO, I can’t help but feel that Zayn’s “Let Me” speaks perfectly to CEO playboy Gojo. hmph.

one ✘ two ✘ three

One glance at the tall man beside you, and you would’ve thought he would pass out soon.

Satoru had been endlessly fidgety hours before the appointment. Flicking from music stations to another, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel or sighing at the sight of you calmly watching the city go by in a flash – it was clear he was restless. Judging from the dark circles he tried to conceal under a pair of shades, he probably hadn’t slept much last night as well.

Now that you were both inside the clinical room, with you laying back down on the reclined bed, belly exposed and all for him to marvel at, his knee hadn’t stopped bouncing. “Satoru, calm down. It’s just a doctor’s appointment.”

“Sorry,” he apologized sheepishly, rubbing his sweaty palms on his pants. “I’m just…excited yet nervous, you know? It feels so real now.”

Real didn’t begin to cover it. Although you masked your nervous quite well, you felt your stomach tighten when a woman came in. Her smile was gentle and comforting enough, talking you both through the process and spilling little fun facts about pregnancy. She applied a cool gel over your belly before turning to a screen, where mixed dots and waves of black and white blurred in front of your visions. Your eyes widened in awe, throat dry from the inability to speak. The baby had always felt real, but seeing it with your own two eyes, a small figure barely even a comprehensible shape in the screen, you couldn’t help but tear up a little.

“That’s mine?” Satoru breathed out, absentmindedly looping his hands through yours. It made you stiffen for a quick second, but your attention was quickly pulled back to the sonogram. “We made that?”

Your heart clenched at his words.

He sounded so happy – like all his dreams came true and you’d just given him a gift that was beyond priceless. You supposed it really was; a baby was always a miracle and joy to have, but this child wasn’t made out of love. How could he have so much fondness for something he didn’t want in the first place?

“The baby is perfectly healthy. This pregnancy doesn’t seem like a high-risk one, but it’s too early to tell so we’ll keep checking in on you,” the doctor pushed her glasses back to her nose, the sound of her cool voice pulling you back from a dangerous path of self-doubt and wariness. “Do you guys want to know the gender?”

Glancing at Satoru, you shook your head. It was amusing that you didn’t need to share words before he got the meaning behind one look, and he squeezed your hand as if to say he understood.

“I’d like that to be more of a surprise. Thank you, doctor.”

“Congratulations on being a father, Sir,” she bowed, and it occurred to you just now she was probably a family doctor. Satoru did end up keeping his promise that your pregnancy be kept private for a while. This little detail made you turn to him with shock written all over your face, though his attention was centred in on the swirling monochrome colours on the screen. Whether the doctor noticed the brewing tension between you two or not, you were still gad when they bowed once more to excuse themselves. “I’ll leave you two to talk now.”

The moment she was gone, you sat up and pushed your blouse down. Satoru’s demeanour had changed as well. His smile was wiped from his face, replaced only by a slight downturn of his lips.

Sighing, you swung your legs over the bed, not minding one bit that he was inches away from resting his chin onto your thighs. “Is there something you’re not telling me? You’ve been so worried since we got here.”

Satoru winced.

“Am I that obvious?”

“Even if you aren’t, it’s not that hard to see through you,” you spoke gently, a spirit possessing you because there would’ve been no other logical reason on why you placed a palm over his. Satoru’s hands were warm and large as he cupped your knee, tracing little patterns over your jeans as he kept his gaze lowered to the floor. It was an odd sight to see; that the Gojo Satoru refused to look a woman in the eye. “Tell me. What’s wrong?”

Satoru’s sigh is painfully drawn out, though his chuckles took the brunt.

“I don’t know what to do – how to be a father, I mean. Don’t you ever get worried…that maybe we might fuck up and ruin someone’s life?”

“Hey,” you cupped his cheek, forcing him to look you in the eyes – which you really wished he didn’t, because you’d never seen such azure this up close before. It was no secret that his eyes alone stole the hearts of people, but you had to remind yourself he broke them as well, so that you pulled away right before he got too close for comfort. It wasn’t what he needed anyway. Satoru simply required reassurance, so you opted for an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Weren’t you the one telling me the other day we’ll work it out?”

“Yeah, but…”

“But what?”

“It’s nothing,” he shook his head, a smile lighting up his features once more. “Are you feeling good? There’s someplace I want to take you, as a celebration for our healthy baby.”

You pursed your lips. As much as you appreciated his enthusiasm, this ‘celebration’ didn’t sound like a good idea. You’ve made mistakes before and now you lived the consequence of it; being reckless was outdated. Caution, wariness, and space were the top three perfect recipes for the complete opposite of a disaster.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“Why not?” he challenged, taking your hand in his as he guided you out the clinic. You made no comment on why he led you out the back where he’d parked his car, even going as far to bow for you as he opened your door. “Liven up a little, we got good news today! Plus, we didn’t both take a day for nothing. Come on, you’re going to have fun, I promise you!”

“And where would we go where people won’t recognize you?”

“Somewhere people are too lost in their own world to focus on others,” Satoru announced before sending you a side glance, smooth hands already on their way to rev the engine.

This wouldn’t go down well. Or at least that was what you wanted to believe, because his smile and excitement were too contagious that you couldn’t restrain the smile you wore.

“A carnival? Really? We’re too old for this.”

“We’re never too old for anything,” he insisted, placing his hands on your shoulders as he maneuvered from stall to stall. Everywhere around you, children and people of all ages milled by, laughter and screams that fading into the distance. One survey at the long, endless lines for the rides and crowded spaces, you grimaced, feeling an uncomfortable weight resting on your shoulders that was beyond Satoru’s hands. “Aw, come on, don’t be such a bore. Day offs like these are rare and think about the baby! Don’t you think they would’ve wanted us to get a long?”

“You’re just using the baby as an excuse to have fun.”

Of course he would – Gojo Satoru was like a man-child. Whether it was someone randomly bringing donuts or puppies into the office, he easily lit up like a firework, seemingly finding joy in every little thing. Being stuck in the office and forced to work his ass off under your supervision must’ve taken a toll on him too.

Add on the fact he hadn’t gone out on dates or parties ever since he found out he was going to be a dad, the desperation to go out and do something was written all over his face.

Satoru pouted. “That’s mean. Take that back.”

“No.”

“And I’m the childish one here?” he snickered. You merely rolled your eyes at him and gave in; too much time spent working and not enough time relaxing (not that being a carnival was your definition or relaxation, but alas, Satoru was dragging you around everywhere like always) wouldn’t be good for the baby.

“You see that bear over there? I’m going to win that for you. It could be my first ever present for our baby.”

There was no stopping him. You didn’t want to, either, because you just stood there, arms crossed against your chest as you let him do whatever he pleased. A literal man-child, a youthful soul stuck in an irritatingly attractive man’s body – these were the thoughts that ran through your head while Satoru kept swinging his arm back and forth. He chose a stall where you had to knock down stacks of cans down with one set of three balls, all because he wanted to win a bear. You would really rather go home than watch him fail four times now, but he wasn’t giving up, only flexing his shoulders before gesturing to the young man.

“Hey man, three more balls please.”

Nothing was funny about it at all. Watching your boss fail miserably even after ten tries shouldn’t have been so hilarious, yet sweat was dripping all over his face and his patience was hanging on a loose thread that you were giggling before you knew it.

His usual confident bravado began to tear down bit by bit, his face flushed from the sounds of your teasing.

“Satoru, stop,” you laughed, “We’ve been here for twenty minutes and your wallet might as well be empty! You can just go buy a bear at the mall.”

“You’re too functional. Where would be the meaning behind it if I just bought a random bear?” he huffed, pushing the sleeves of his denim jacket up to his elbows. Determined now more than ever, he even stretched his long arms side to the side with a shake of his hips. You could tell the young man manning the stall was hiding his amusement by whistling to himself, but Satoru really was such a ridiculous sight you couldn’t blame him. “No, I’m going to get that for you, then I’ll brag to my baby how cool their dad was when he knocked those cans down.”

“You mean, if you knock those cans down.”

His shoulders deflated. “Support me a little bit, will you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know, it might just inflate your ego and you’ll be too distracted by yourself to ever actually knock those cans down,” He threw a ball with a force so strong it hit the curtain above the cans, and it bounced back somewhere below the tables. It didn’t even touch the can by a smidge, and you snorted. “See what I mean?”

Expecting that Satoru would take insult to heart (as his ego was easily wounded, this much you knew when he refused to talk to anyone at the office for a whole day because one of his directors forgot his name) you smirked at him, but that smirk immediately dropped when he grinned back at you. He was no longer wimpy like before, an aura of confidence brimming from him. “That’s like the second time you’ve told me I was distracting,” he mused, leaving you baffled because he was right. “On the contrary, I think you’rea lot more distracting, so I take that back. Just stand there and watch me win.”

“Okay,” you drawled out in faux disinterest, thankful for the corny carnival music and chatter from the crowd that he couldn’t hear your poor beating heart.

You were too focused on pretending to be unbothered by him that you failed to see how the cans were knocked down. The counter guy was already picking them up as Satoru pumped his fists in the air, way too much like a child high on sugar.

Was this really the father of your baby?

“I won! I fucking won! That huge brown bear, please!”Satoru’s smile from holding the bear that was half his size couldn’t even compare to the city lights and sparklers. Even his eyes were lit up in joy as he skipped back to you, happily waving the doe-eyed bear in front of you. At your lack of reaction, he sighed before jutting his cheek out to you. “No congratulations kiss?”

“How about a slap?”

“Kinky,” he teased, sending your brain to overheat when he tapped his chin in thought. “Well, you did make my back bleed so I kind of got the idea you’re sort of extreme in bed – ow! Would you please stop hitting me? I just won you a wonderful prize and your first reaction is to hit me! This arm is exhausted from swinging endlessly, you know.”

“Maybe if you aimed better, you wouldn’t have had to exhaust yourself. Like I said, you could’ve just bought a bear,” you scolded, raising your arm threateningly when he opened his mouth again. Idiot. “Give me that.”

Satoru effortlessly swung the bear until it was under your chins, his white lashes ethereal as he peeked at you through them. He was close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath dusting on your cheeks, that same warmth that had been mixing with yours in a sloppy, heated kiss just weeks ago. “And who said I was letting you carry this?” he taunted, thoroughly enjoying how for once, you weren’t hitting him.“I’m supposed to wave this around proudly then place it in our baby’s room when we get home. Besides, your hand looks heavy already.”

“My hands? Wait, what do you mean our baby’s room?”

At your words and questioning gaze, Satoru did a quick turn, trying to use the bear as a shield.

“Yeah, I forgot to tell you,” he scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “I may or may not have had my parents’ guest room renovated as a baby room, although if you ask me, I think moving somewhere else would be much better. Raising a child in a penthouse doesn’t seem like such a great idea if you ask me,” opening your mouth to scold him, Satoru stopped you by placing a finger on your lips, noses grazing against each other. “Don’t scold me right now; I know that look on your face and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, okay? We can still decorate it ourselves. I just had the beds removed and the space cleaned out. Now stop over thinking and let me help you with your problem.”

You pushed his face away for the sake of your heart. In fact, you should be paid for your acting skills for looking so unaffected.

“What problem?”

“Your hands look heavy,” he beamed, long fingers looping through yours as he swayed them side to side. “So let me carry it for you.”

“Satoru, I—”

“Don’t get me wrong,” he blinked innocently while surrendering his free hand, “I’m not doing this for you, it’s for the baby. Did you know oxytocin is released and makes you feel good and reduces pain, maybe even stress? We can pump your oxytocin levels through touch. It also lowers your blood pressure, and we want you at your happiest and healthiest for this pregnancy, right?”

“Since when were you an expert on this?”

“Since I found out I’m becoming a dad,” his words struck you speechless, mouth pressed into a flat line as you stared him openly. You hadn’t mean to come off as rude in that moment; you were just trying to gauge the sincerity behind his words, to explore the depth in his eyes, but Satoru must’ve took it wrong as he cleared his throat, “I can let go if you really want me to.”

“N-no! It’s fine…can we move? We’ve been standing here for ten minutes now,” Embarrassed, you pointed to the closest thing in your sight – a photo booth. “How about there? That looks fun.”

Satoru followed where your arm was pointed, laughing when a couple exited the red curtains while giggling amongst themselves. The guy even leaned down to steal a long kiss from his lover, and if you were embarrassed before, you wanted to crawl into a hole and never come back again right now. “You know, if you wanted me to be stuck in a cramped space next to you, you could’ve just said so. I didn’t bring the limo with me, but the Audi could be pretty small for us, I guess…”

You hissed at him in warning, “God, you never shut up do you?”

“It made you smile.”

“I wasn’t smiling!”

“Sure, mommy, whatever you say,” bumping his hip with yours, Satoru led you inside the cube. There were a plethora of filters to choose from; ranging from heart frames and ones that placed shades on your face. Not really thinking of what to pick, you reached out to press the frog hats one, but Satoru was swatting your hands away for the effect with heart emojis everywhere. “This is cute. We can show this to our baby once they’re born.”

“They won’t really know what a Polaroid is, Satoru.”

“It’s still sentimental!” he grumbled before clicking the camera icon, a huge smile already on his face until he saw you squished on the other side of the booth. Only one side of your ear could be seen, and Satoru furrowed his brows at you. “Come closer, you’ll be cropped from the frame.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Jesus, Y/N, don’t act shy now, I already fucked a baby into you,” mouth falling open at the vulgarity of his words, Satoru took the chance to drag you beside him. “Relax, you’re always so stiff. Our baby might come out frowning if you keep huffing like that.”

“You’re too close for comfort.”

“My apologies, I’ll try not to be included in the photo when you’re the one who suggested this in the first place,” he muttered playfully, booping your nose before he wrapped an arm around your shoulder. He was close, too close, that his musky perfume filled the close space. You wanted to lean closer to his warmth and sturdiness of his broad shoulders; his mere presence bringing about a sense of tranquillity despite your words. You told yourself it shouldn’t be too bad to lean into him for just a little while, absentmindedly following him as he cheers, “Smile!”

One photo turned into two, and Satoru ended up inserting a few more bills into the slot to take more. He tried out as many filters as he wanted, acting as if you two had been long time friends from how easy it was for him to be around you like that.

You supposed it came from his heavy experience with women. You were so unlike; while he was open to touch and didn’t care too much about space, you craved it deliriously.

It was obvious none of this meant anything to Satoru. You were probably just another woman in his life, with the exception that you had a kid, but you couldn’t mean something more. If anything, he treated you more like an old friend than a lover. He’d said it himself before that you weren’t his type and you didn’t mind, so why did it hurt the longer you mulled about it? Sure, you may not be as attractive or luxurious as his previous lovers, but did you really not even have charismatic pull? Is it because you weren’t his type that he was so casual with you, while you on the other hand, felt like you would lose your mind at every little thing he did?

You watched as Satoru pulled out his wallet and kept the Polaroid of you both grinning at the camera, forming a silly heart shape with your hands per his request. It was silly and platonic – yet the gesture confused you to no end.

“Why’d you do that?”

Satoru’s hand paused. “Am I not allowed to…?”

“We’re not lovers. You can’t just put a photo of us in your wallet.”

As if to prove a point, Satoru pulled out more photos of his wallet and showed it to you. There were several more wallet-sized photos, mostly of his white cat with black shades, another of him and his best friend, Shoko, and the last photo was of him skiing. They were all placed in his wallet along with a small, faded out photograph of what seemed to be his parents from the younger days. You couldn’t understand why he was showing you this, much less how patient he was as he smiled softly at you. “It’s memorabilia. I keep photos of everyone I care about everywhere with me,” he said, pocketing his wallet back before gazing up at the night sky. “I like to think we’re friends, at least. We’re definitely not just boss and employee anymore.”

Then what are we?

There were so many things you wanted to ask. You always knew he was always this overly friendly and nice, but what did make you? What did a friend mean to him? Other than Shoko, who was his lesbian friend who was also the company’s resident doctor, you’d never seen him be platonic with another female before.

The realization made your mood drop.

Maybe you were right. He probably didn’t even see you as a woman, but what did it matter? You didn’t like him. You shouldn’tlike him. Even if he had no intentions of wooing you, Gojo Satoru was far too appealing for his own good. Being around him was dangerous for your heart.

“Wanna ride the ferris wheel? The night city always looks beautiful.”

He was just your boss...and you were just a friend. Things were going to be alright as long as no feelings were involved. You survived seven years of working with him with not a single moment where your heart fluttered when he spoke your name; a baby made between you shouldn’t change anything now. At the end of the day, you were both only doing this out of responsibility. Satoru was trying his best to become a supportive co-parent to you, and that was all it ever would be. Strictly business – purely professional – as it always had been and always will be.

Foolish girl, you could hear a voice whisper at the back of your head, don’t get too lost in his eyes.

“Y/N, are you tired? Do you want to go home now? We can just order dinner to be delivered if you’re exhausted,” Satoru tugged at your sleeve to get your attention, and you chuckled awkwardly, not meaning to have spaced out the whole time. Worry was written all over his face from the way his brows dipped, stunning blue eyes darkening like the night sky you both made memories under.

Don’t look at me like that...

“Are you okay? Do you wanna go home?”

“Yeah,” you chirped far too brightly than you would’ve liked. Right now, it was more of a mission of fake it til you make it. You would just have to keep exerting the same amount of effort into making this work for the baby’s sake. And if that meant pushing aside any budding desire for this to last any longer to focus on your ‘friendship’, then you would do it. Taking Satoru’s hand for the first time since the baby ordeal, you flashed him a genuine smile. “The ferris wheel sounds nice. Let’s do some sightseeing before the night ends.”

Neither of you speak inside the cab. Beautiful the night was as the city shone into awakening illumination beneath you, comforting you with the thought that in the grand scheme of it all, you were small. Insignificant. That somehow everything you worried about wouldn’t matter when there was a much bigger world out there, and you were but a fickle dot in the middle of its entirety. But that was you, and Gojo lived in a much different world than you did. For somewhere in the city, you could recognize several of the sky towers, buildings, and establishments owned by his family. He mattered in the grand scheme; you were a small factor in his world.

Glancing back at the man who’d been silent the whole ride, you smiled upon seeing that he was doing the same. Satoru was practically bouncing in his seat as he snapped several photos of the city, mumbling something about he’d never seen this view before.

He was so innocent yet so out there, igniting within you an urge to take care of him and wanting to be taken care of by him.

You’d already accepted that you may just never have him that way. That small, fleeting crush was like a butterfly – pretty look at, but damn near impossible to catch. You’d already stopped crying yourself to sleep over the new changes brought about in your body, that in a few months’ time, you’d look back into everything and see that everything had changed. The mistakes you made that night were still something you regretted because you wished you could’ve done better, but seeing him right in front of you now, there was only gratefulness blooming within. Grateful that he was right by your side, grateful that at least the father of your child was more than capable of giving them a comfortable life, grateful that he didn’t push you away like you expected.

Acting more on impulse than logic, you leaned over to press your lips on his cheek.“Thank you,” you mumbled, eyes closed as you let your lips stay there for a few more seconds.

His skin was warm underneath your touch, and when you opened your eyes, Satoru was gazing up at you with stars twinkling in the vast galaxy he called his eyes. You smiled at his reaction, watching as he reached a palm out to caress that spot your lips had landed.“For what?”

“For everything,” you crumbled,“You’re not a bad person, Satoru, I know that,” with shuddered breaths, tears sprung at the back of your eyes again. “I’m sorry for being so difficult. I just need time to adjust to…well, all of this.” Your voice cracked at the last sentence and you were crying before you knew it, face hidden behind your palms in fear he’d look at you differently. In his eyes, you were always his stoic secretary who didn’t even bat an eye when people gave you backlash after Satoru hired you despite the lack of a college degree.

This all felt new – to cry, to trust, to rely on someone – and there was a flurry of emotions you couldn’t quite place yet.

Scooping you into his arms, Satoru patted your back as your cries grew louder. “Take all the time you need. We don’t have to rush into anything at all.”

In the harsh world of conglomerates where the laws of business blurred thinner and thinner with each day, it was hard to believe that not rushing into anything would be possible. It was always a flurry of hurried phone calls, frantic preparations for emergency meetings, anxiety over presenting new proposals and hoping that your superiors would sign your documents so you could go about your way. Time was as imperative as money was to them, but Satoru had proved he could be beyond that.

From the moment you met him, he never treated time as if it was something that slipped through his fingertips. He enjoyed every second he had of his life, and perhaps that was why you hated him so much in the first place.

You thought he took everything for granted, when in reality, all he did was bask in the little things life offered.

This much, at least, you trusted him with. If he said there would be no need to rush and you could both take it slow, he meant it. Around him, time felt more like a secret whisper than a treasure you both had to seize to protect. The night drifted off until it was already midnight and the crew was ushering all visitors out. You and Satoru made it home safely and quietly, hands linked together as if it was the most natural thing ever. No rush, you kept telling yourself, and you plopped down on the couch heavily as you let your muscles relax from such a long, eventful day.

You stayed there for a solid minute or so when you felt warm hands take your heels off. Opening your eyes, Satoru kneeled before you, his fingers expertly rubbing and pushing against the sore muscles of your feet. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Your feet must be tired from all that walking,” he mumbled, looking up briefly to meet your eyes and tease your shoulder back. “Lean back for me. I’ll take care of you.”

Judging by the sentiment behind his smile, you figured it wouldn’t be harmful to enjoy this at least once. You’ve never gotten foot massages before but his hands kneading yours felt heavenly. You knew from experience beforehand that Satoru was quite godly when it came to the skills and magic his fingers brought, though this one was on a different level, and you were sinking deeper into the couch from the bliss. He was right; you were tired, and if having your boss massage you like this every night after dragging you wherever he pleased, then you wouldn’t complain.

The ringing of your phone made you sit up abruptly, surprising Satoru whose head you almost knocked into. “Sorry,” you croaked out sheepishly, “It’s my dad. I need to take this.”

“Do you need me to leave you alone?”

“Uh, no, you’re fine.”

Satoru gestured to your foot as you took the call, mouthing, “Should I continue?”

“Yes, please,” you answered back, palm pressed over the mic before you answered. “Hey, Dad!” Your father greeted you back with much enthusiasm, his energy heard even by Satoru who sent you small smiles and curious glances every now and then. A part of you wanted to ask if he was fine kneeling on the floor like that, but his knees were on the fur carpet anyway that it shouldn’t hurt him. He extended your leg and trailed up your calves, pulling a soft moan from you when he kneaded the flesh and rid it of its knots. His ministrations distracted you until you were nodding absentmindedly to your Dad every now and then, not really paying attention to what he was saying.

Then the call ended, and his last words kept ringing back into your head ominously. Satoru took quick notice of this as he tapped your knee, bringing your attention back to him. “Is something wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I...” you started, helplessly fumbling around Satoru. “My dad is in Tokyo. He said he wants to have dinner with me.”

“You don’t look particularly happy about that. Do you not want to meet your father?”

“I do but...”

“But?”

“I have to tell him about this,” you shivered, refracting your legs back to the couch until his touch disappeared from your skin. For a moment, you had the urge to crawl back to his heat, but you were restless, agitated. “About us. He’s going to want to meet you and I don’t want to hide the pregnancy from him either,” Satoru remained unmoving as you rambled, and you hid your face behind your arms again as you remembered the rules you asked him to follow. “Listen, I’m sorry if I sound unfair right now, I know I said I didn’t want anyone else knowing—”

Warm lips brushed over your knuckles, large hands peeling your wrists to reveal your face. “Hey, it’s fine. He’s family and you can tell him. It’s not like your Dad would ruin your image or something like you expected to happen.”

“He won’t but...” you frowned, “My dad isn’t going to like this. I can’t guarantee he’ll be civil the whole time, especially towards you.”

“You told him about me?”

“A few years ago, yeah, when I still couldn’t tolerate you.”

“So you can tolerate me now?”

“Only a little bit,” you corrected, pushing his hands away as you opened your phone to check your schedule. It was mostly Satoru’s schedule, truth be told, but you were free for the most part tomorrow. Satoru could just longue back in his office while you clocked out early to meet your dad. “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. On second thought, he doesn’t have to know at all. I’m only a few weeks in and it’s not like he’ll notice—”

“Y/N,” Satoru interrupted you, rudely snatching his phone from your shaking fingers. You would’ve scolded him had he not sounded so worried. “I did promise I would take responsibility for you, right? I want to meet your dad and introduce myself properly. As a father-to-be, I think I can somewhat understand that he might react strongly to this, but I also need to reassure him you’re in safe hands,” taking your hand in his, Satoru leaned into your palm, the smile he wore way too charming than what your heart could handle. “As long as you’re okay with it, I would like to meet him.”

“I’m sorry if he does something stupid.”

“Don’t be,” he reassured with a chuckle. “I’m sure everything will go well.”

It didn’t go well. Your father wasn’t throwing a fit or causing a scene like you originally feared, but the current situation wasn’t any better either. He looked like he was on the verge of tearing Satoru’s head apart, his grip on the bread knife so tight his knuckles flashed white. Your father was the literal definition of unpredictable and out of nervousness, you held Satoru’s hand under the table for comfort.

In complete opposition of yours, Satoru handled it with class and composure. His head was ducked down in respect, making sure to be curt and precise in counters to your father’s harsh accusations.

“I’m really sorry for everything, Sir.”

“Did you ruin my daughter’s life?”

Satoru finally tilted his head back up to look your father in the eye, both your hands turning cold and sweaty in between the seats. “Pardon?”

“I asked if you ruined my daughter’s life by getting her pregnant.”

“I would never intend for that to happen, Sir,” Satoru straightened up. From your perspective, he looked every bit the man parents would want their children to be with – handsome, elegant, educated, polite, respectful and well-off – but your father was no ordinary parent. He sized Satoru up like a predator hunting his prey even as the latter acted cool about it. “Granted, it was an accident and neither of us are prepared for this, but I promise I’ll take care of her. I take responsibility as the father and you have nothing to worry about.”

Your dad slammed his palms down on the table, the loud smack catching the attention of nearby tables. “How dare you tell me I have nothing to worry about?”

“Dad, please don’t do this.”

“No, he needs to know,” he snapped. Unable to help it, you groaned inwardly and scooted closer to Satoru, knowing where this was leading. “I lost her mother right after she was born; raised her by myself when I was barely out from high school. Rich men like you may never understand the struggles of taking care of a baby all by yourself, but I did everything I could to make sure she grew up well. My daughter had a happy, comfortable life. When she told me she wanted to follow her dreams in Tokyo, I supported her, and then you go take everything away from her because you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself? You dare defile her like that?”

“Dad!” you roared, clutching Satoru’s hand who’d gone limp. “It was equally my responsibility as it is his! I wanted this; we both got carried away but we’re doing our best, so please stop being difficult to us.”

“You wanted this?” he laughed dryly, “A child with this man you kept moaning to me about; the same man who went to clubs every night while he left you all by yourself to work, to clean up his mess from him? You wanted him?”

“Dad,” you gritted your teeth, nails sinking down onto your thigh. Satoru remained silent between you both, although you could feel his burning gaze penetrating through the back of your skull. “It’s both our mistake. But this child...we don’t see it as that. We like to view it as a blessing. It may be true we harbour no affection for one another, but we want to be good parents. That’s all you need to know and I find no reason to explain myself to you. If you have nothing else to say, you can go back home. I’ll pay for your ride,” slamming down a few bills his way, you glared at your father, who shrunk back at the anger radiating off of you. “You’re not welcome here, Dad. Just go back home.”

“I’m just worried for you.”

“You don’t have to. I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“I never said you were,” he sighed, rubbing the sides of his temples. “But he just took all your opportunities away from you! What about your dreams? What about your plan of having your own career once you have enough experience? What about—”

“Are you implying that because I’m pregnant, suddenly I’m not qualified to fulfil my goals?”

“Sir,” Satoru cut you off, releasing your hands as he leaned forwards on the table, becoming more and more like the CEO he was trained to be – all authority and gentle command that won the hearts of multiple investors. “I assure you that I won’t be holding your daughter back from the things she wants to achieve. As her co-parent, I’m perfectly capable of supporting her in the dreams she wishes to achieve. I’ve worked with her for years; I know she can reach for the stars if she wanted.”

Your mind blanked.

“Young man, don’t talk to me as if you know my daughter better than I do,” your father scorned, “I’m not questioning your capability to support her, but what about your credibility? How can you assure me you’ll really be there for her? How can you assure me you won’t leave my daughter stranded in the middle of nowhere? How can you assure me you can protect her from the harsh criticism of society? Money can’t provide nor does it solve anything,” your father copied his gesture by leaning forward, but it was to poke Satoru’s chest. “From what I’ve heard about you, I suppose you understand perfectly well why I don’t trust you.”

“Sir, I do plan on marrying your daughter and to give her the life she deserves,” Satoru confessed, effectively stealing from you the ability to speak as he glimpsed your way. “If she lets me.”

“You’ll marry her? Be faithful to her as your wife and have a family? Are you sure you can do that?”

“Yes, Sir, I’m highly confident I can. I’ll make sure of it.”

“Then that’s all I need to know,” your father leaned back in your seat, arms crossed against his chest and a stern expression on his face. “And if I find out you hurt or make my daughter cry in any way, I’ll beat up that pretty face of yours. I have two more sons that’re willing to do the same, if you don’t watch your actions.”

Satoru beamed at your father’s ‘approval.’ “I’ll face any consequence if I fall short on my duties, Sir, but I assure you, it will never have come to that.”

“So we’ve come to an agreement?”

The two men linked and shook hands across the table, completely disregarding the fact you were right beside him. You were beyond appalled, but mostly hurt that you’d been reduced to this way. And they were unaware of it, too, sickening and satisfied yet tense smiles were masked on their faces as they decided your future.

You stood up and left the restaurant.

You kept walking as fast as you could in the cold night, hands shoved into the coat of your pockets. Thousands of pin needles pricked at your heart and your skin the more you replayed the memory in your head. How stupid were you to think that Satoru would be different? And marriage? Was he serious? It all made you sick to the core to the point you wanted to throw up and disappear, until a heavy set of footsteps echoed behind you and tugged your wrist.

“Y/N, wait!” Satoru panted, hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. “What’s wrong with you? You just up and left—”

“Seriously, Satoru, you’re asking me that?” your face fell flat at his cluelessness, “What’s wrong with you? You men are sickening; planning my entire future like that right in front of me as if I don’t have a say in what I want. None of you asked if I’m okay with this. You really went ahead deciding we’ll get married when I told you already, I don’t want to marry you and I never will!”

Satoru brushed a hand over his hair, a hand on his hip. You could tell his patience was being tested – after being verbally harassed by your father and now with you pushing back in the same heat, it was only a matter of time before he lost his cool. Surprisingly enough, however, his voice remained levelled as he sighed. “What did you expect me to do back there? Tell your father that we’re just going to be roommates and raise a child together as if we’re not already family?” he defended, words slow and pronounced with a hint of hurt behind them. “I respect you and I truly do want to be with you, that’s why I wanted us to get married.”

“You respect me?” you laughed incredulously, “Are you hearing yourself right now? No person respects another by deciding what happens to my life without my consent!”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask, okay? I apologize for it and I acknowledge my mistake that I didn’t give you much of a choice. Me being cornered and pressured isn’t a good excuse, but I wasn’t lying when I said I want to take care of you and—”

“Why?”

“What do you mean why?”

“Why do you want to be with me?” you demanded, “Why do you want to take care of me so badly? How did you even take this so well? You weren’t even that angry when I told you I was pregnant.”

Satoru paled. “Was I supposed to be? Should I have pushed you away and kicked you out my life? Is that what you wanted me to do, or is that what you expected from me, considering you’ve made it extremely clear I’m nothing but your airheaded boss and a man who always wants his dick wet, right?” the sting of his words pricked you both – you with your guilt, and him with his pride crushed. But he didn’t let on, didn’t waver and didn’t match your anger as his chest shook with impatience. “I’m trying to be good to you; I want to be good for you and the baby because despite what you think of me, I’m not the devil the tabloids make me out to be. I sleep around, yeah, but I wouldn’t go so far to turn someone away especially when I know I’m supposed to be there.”

“Satoru, if you’re only doing this out of obligation, you can be a good father without marrying me. Marriage is not a requirement; I don’t care what people say that I got pregnant without getting married. That’s the least of my concern, I just want the baby to grow up healthy but I don’t want to be involved with you.”

With how stunned Satoru looked, one would’ve thought you slapped him right in the face. That mere sight of seeing your boss tear his walls down in front of you almost made you feel bad, but you had to be strong.

You had to be firm with what you stood for.

“I really don’t want to be with you, Satoru. I’m so sorry.”

“What do you want me to do?” his voice cracked, begging and pleading as he stood before you, looking every bit of a man lost in uncharted territory. “I don’t know what you want me to do, Y/N. One moment, you’re telling me you want me to be a good father, and then the next you’re pushing me away. People are so sure that I’m a man who can never settle down because they believe I have commitment issues, but I’m telling you I can commit to you right now,” he held your hand, rubbing some of his warmth at your comparably cold ones. You didn’t fail to notice that he was trembling, but what about what you couldn’t decipher. “Are you really sure I’m the one here who isn’t capable of that? What are you so scared of that you can’t trust me?”

“Because you’re you! Because you’re a fucking asshole who’s been treating me like I’m an overworking machine and always expects me to undo your shit for you! Because you make me sick and I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t know what love means!” Exploded. You exploded. “I regret everything that happened between us that night. No, in fact, I regret ever meeting you at all.”

Satoru took a step back.

All the light and joy that fit so perfectly with him had now disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” he demurred, “I’m sorry that I’d been so repulsive that you’ve felt miserable for all this time. I’m sorry I haven’t been a decent boss and I’m sorry I’m not good enough for you.”

“Gojo, stop. Stop doing that; stop apologizing!”

“Then tell me what you want me to do,” he barked desperately. “Because I can’t read your mind and I just want to be good for you.”

“What if I don’t want you to? I don’t want you to be good to me, I don’t want you to care about me. Be there for the baby, but don’t involve yourself too much in my personal life. Stop asking me to marry you because you and I would never work out. We’re impossible, okay?”

“How do you know we’ll never work out when we haven’t even tried?” he pushed, “You never even gave me a chance.”

“You’re not worth that chance.”

If someone could receive an award for effortlessly trampling over someone repeatedly, you would’ve been crowned winner a long time ago. You had no idea what came over you as you spat all those hurtful words to Satoru, but did your words bear no truth? The fact that he no longer defended himself meant he also knew that he wasn’t worth it – that he wasn’t someone to be trusted. It wasn’t that you were completely unfair too; of course you considered it. Weeks of living under the same roof as him and you most definitely considered it. Say you did get married and became a real family – what then? It wasn’t a marriage out of love, but rather out of responsibility and obligation.

As much as you loved your child, you couldn’t imagine throwing away your future and living miserable for the rest of your life like that.

A life built on lies wasn’t a life worth living.

“I would never hurt you.”

Your heart cracked. After everything you said, after all your efforts to keep him away from your own safety, after all the hurtful things you’ve done to him, and he was still apologizing? Why did he have to make it so hard to let go? You were tired, so tired that you could no longer refrain your lip from quivering as tears caked your face.

“Gojo, please, don’t—”

“So if me stepping away from your life is what would really make you happy, then I’ll respect it. But there’s one thing I have to ask,” Satoru swiped a thumb under your eye to catch the tear. His smile was forlorn, his touch cold and words melancholic. “Do you want the baby? Do you...want to keep the baby and be a mother? You don’t have to do anything for me, I just want to know if the mother of my child even wants to be one. And please be honest, because everything you say right now are words that I’ll mark seriously.”

The word left your mouth before you could stop it.

“No.”

“No what?”

“I don’t want to be a mother,” you admitted, hands trailing over your belly. It felt like you were betraying your own child, but you hadn’t planned this. “I’m too young, Satoru, I-I’m not ready for this. With you there beside me or not, I really don’t want this.”

“Then,” he cleared his throat, turning his head to the side to catch a moment. You swore you saw his eyes shine under the city lights with tears, but it was gone so soon that you might’ve just fooled yourself with it. Once he deemed himself ready to talk, Satoru took a deep breath. “Do I have your consent that once the baby is born...it’ll be under my care? Would you prefer to reach your own dreams, then? You’ll never have to be a part of the Gojo family if it’s really not what you want, even though I could support you as much as you need me to.”

Your eyes widened at his proposition. “You’ll take care of our baby?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Can I...can I visit them, at least, once in a while?” It was more than just your heart that broke that night. There was no telling whether you’d hurt yourself in the long run with this decision. It was no easy choice to make – to actively pursue your dreams somewhere else more than being a mother. You wanted to do your best, of course you did, but it wasn’t that easy. Gojo didn’t have to tell you for you to understand that once you married him, you’d be expected to run the business with him and be involved in his family and their dramas. Now that wasn’t a life you wanted.

“You’re free to visit them whenever,” he promised, voice fading even lower into the background. “So is this it? We’ll just be living under the same roof until the baby is born and once they’re here...”

“We’ll part ways.”

“We’ll part ways,” he nodded in agreement, sniffling for a brief second before fixing his tie. The Gojo Satoru you got to know for a few weeks had now disappeared. Not even the goofy boss you spent seven years with could be found in the coldness of his eyes, almost as if he’d put up such impenetrable walls around him and nothing could pass through. The sudden shift in aura made your heart clench as he offered his hand to shake. “Okay. Let’s stay professional until then?”

“Yeah, Sir, I can do that,” your hands shook as you enclosed it around his, but now all the warmth had disappeared – from his eyes, his touch, his soul. It hurt, but this was necessary. It was what felt right. “Thank you – for everything.”

“You’re welcome. Anything for you and the baby,” Satoru proclaimed, perplexing you both when he suddenly pulled you in his arms. Just like that, the dam broke, and you were staining his precious suit before you could stop it. His arms rubbed up and down your back the longer he held you there, almost like a final moment to lean on one another before you had to say goodbye eventually. Beneath your palm, his heart beat exuberantly loud, so much so that you might’ve heard the prayers it whispered. “Stop crying now. The baby might feel sad too. We’ll both be alright – we just have to get through this.”

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livingalifeofasimp · 3 years

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Yandere genshin impact boys with gn s/o who is now also an adventure like aether. Not to mention they were in relationship with him. So.....headcannon? Like I don't want where they will make aether and s/o break up. I want they to suffer! 😌 Have a great day and night!

This request really is interesting!. I hope you like ~

Warning : Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, it's purely for entertainment purpose and nothing else. It must not be romanticized in real life. Arts are not mine only the content is.

🧡ℂ𝕙𝕚𝕝𝕕𝕖🧡

➳You were just an enemy, not a strong opponent but strong enough to surprise him and is constantly improving. Your presence was a mere amusement to him or a stranger who crossed his paths one or two times. You meet Childe when he challenges you and Aether in one of your adventures.

➳You thought he was a guy full of himself but unfortunately you and Aether got forced to work with Childe in a case, unwillingly you supported Aether's decision. Honestly you never expected to see how much he cares for the people he loves and protects them, there was so much more than he shows.

➳It changed your attitude and perspective of him. Sometimes he can be a jerk . Still, you let your guards down since you both will be working partners even if it's for a limited amount of time.

***

➥Never have Childe lost a battle so miserably in a battlefield of love. It feels way far worse than losing a battle almost like he lost his heart and himself.

➥He wasn't able to understand how his hobby of teasing and testing you turned into a habit of being near you all the time, making him addicted to your presence next to him. Everytime when you were in danger, Childe jumped in the scene to protect you, even after knowing you could handle it, without caring about his situation.

➥He should have observed how protective and lovingly Aether looks at you and what's more worst to him is that you look at Aether the same way. Not a single detail went past his observation yet, this? Maybe he never wanted to observe or know such a thing between you both.

➥He saved you, why did you run to save Aether risking your life again?, everything became clear when he saw you both hugging and holding hands. Friends ain't like that. No longer, Childe was a cheerful, determined guy like he was before. Shutting himself away from the world falling into abyss, no tears were left to cry. People who knew him got concerned about his health.

➥What a great despair he is it? His situation is so laughable not even he knew how crazy his love for you is making him. He wants to make you feel the same pain, will you be able to take it?. But how can he hurt you, he loves you so much. How can he fall in love with his friend's girl? Knowing how happy they are together and he is just an extra.

❤️𝔻𝕚𝕝𝕦𝕔❤️

➳As a foreigner in Mondstadt, you searched for a job and luckily found a vacant seat in Dawn winery, since it's only for a few months you got along with the fate, it's better than nothing, besides payment was quite high and could cover up your expenditures.

➳You discovered that it was owned by a young man which was quite surprising to you. At first you did not have a good option on Diluc, your boss who you never actually interacted with but everyone's past eventually finds their way to other's ears and it was the same in your case.

➳What a miserable past he had gone through, not that it's your business nevertheless it changed the way you saw him. You felt bad for him when he had to work alone on holidays so sometimes you volunteered. One of the reasons was extra pay, he was a good boss to you.

***

➥Diluc didn't knew what he was feeling for you is. Is it friendship? companionship? or love?. It was for sure that his heart fluttered every time he saw you, you made him dress nice for you and behave differently in a way you don't think bad of him, so he tried and tried, sometimes made jokes to make you laugh.

➥It was so frustrating for him to see you sad. And now after all this when he saw you with a blonde guy who came to pick you after your shift made him lose his sanity. Who is he to you? Why are you so happy to see him? You never smiled like that at him.

➥It was exactly what he thought, you had a lover before he came into the scene. Again he was left alone in the darkness, alone, he is so afraid of being alone. Tears continually rolled down his cheeks, hitting floor . Why is everything so cruel to him? What did he ever do wrong? Why can't he live happily even if just for once?

➥When his heart finally fluttered for someone and he had a reason to wake up the next morning, you disappear, making his life far more miserable than it was. But does it matter? He is as miserable as he was before, did anything even changed? Diluc falled on his knees he was a fool to think he could ever be loved.

➥What is he supposed to do with these immense feelings for you?. Diluc is aware of how destructive it is, if he loses control then he will hurt you, you will never smile again. He couldn't bear it and he doesn't want to live in a world where he can't have you, so he destroys himself before he can destroy you, taking his breath away himself.

💙𝕂𝕒𝕖𝕪𝕒💙

➳Certainly you got dragged by your friends, after all you came back to your hometown from a long adventure. They wanted to catch up with you so how could you reject them? At the end you accepted their invitation. That's where you meet Kaeya, friend of your friends though you didn't pay him any attention because your friends kept on questioning you.

➳It was a sunny day when you decided to run errands, buying all the stuffs that was mentioned in your list, you got tired and visted the same place, you went few days ago with your friends. You liked the cocktail, it was of your favorite flavor. The drink was fresh so you thought of ordering it again, coincidentally meeting Kaeya and slowly you both became friends, helping and making fun of eachother.

***

➥This is not what he thought would happen! This is not how it was supposed to be! Kaeya's heart broke so bad, every moment it became harder to breathe, panic rose, he couldn't help but cover his mouth. A chuckle escapes his mouth.

➥For a minute how can he even think he deserves someone like you, look at you how happy you are, you are someone else's, so pure and perfect. Why didn't he realize it earlier? Why did he misunderstood your kindness for love?.

➥Kaeya wanted to purpose you, he was willing to be loyal to only you and keep eyes only for you. So when he heard from his friends who are your friends as well that you already had a lover for years and that you love him very much, it made him depressed.

➥Kaeya sat dissolved in own his sadness, a hand slides through his chest to his jaw, turning his face towards herself attempting to kiss him. As Kaeya's vision shifts on her, he realizes she is not you. Oh how good would it be, if you were the one he was holding, kissing and hugging.

➥He can't believe he became so miserable, constantly wanting to have you to himself. Kaeya pushes her hand away, his hands holded another glass of wine as he takes it down in one gulp imagining your smiling face towards him and hearing your sweet voice which are music to him.

➥Another woman leaned towards him, Kaeya chuckled to himself how dare he dreamed about you, you deserve so much better, not someone who is as dirty as him.

➥He knows it isn't possible to forget about you so he tries to find comfort in some other women and this time he pulled her towards him, kissing her deeply, tears falled down his eyes. Oh how good it would be if she was you.

🖤ℤ𝕙𝕠𝕟𝕘𝕝𝕚🖤

➳By the time you went back to meet your grandma, everything around the corner changed. You were happy to be able to meet her and see all those places you used to go when you was a kid, reminiscing and meeting all your old neighbors and childhood friends. They are still as fun as they were before.

➳When you got home you saw a handsome stranger in the living room and was shocked, he didn't seem to be a guy who could harm you or your grandma, by the way where is she?. Zhongli decides to introduce himself to free you from any discomfort.

➳Then suddenly your Grandma came in with a tray of food and started complimenting Zhongli saying that he is kind enough to help her with everything when no one is here with her. You thanked Zhongli for being so nice to your Grandma. You didn't knew that your Grandma was rooting for you both because she thought Zhongli is a good guy who can keep you happy all your life.

➳Strangely you always found yourself alone with Zhongli most of the time, and when you knew why these coincidences happened, you explained to your Grandma that you already had someone and humbly rejected Zhongli.

***

➥Zhongli holded his head with his hands so hard, hoping to stop his thoughts about you. It was not his plan to love because they are gonna die anyways like his friends did. So why isn't he able to think you are dead for him. Your face, laugh, smiles and everything, even a smallest detail constantly hovers over his mind.

➥This is not what he is expected to do, but he just can't stop thinking about you and the more he thinks about you, the more sinful it becomes, desiring to tear down your perfect picture with your loved one and pull you to him. He can easily take you to himself, you will eventually love him, if you get to know him, his love, you surely will love him, right?.

➥Zhongli notices that his thoughts are becoming so corrupt, he must stop it. Zhongli threw all the expensive objects placed on the table with a shout losing his composure. Does she know how much he is going through? Tears threatened to fall down from his eyes, so Zhongli raised his head to prevent them from falling.

➥He never experienced such feelings, so much pain for not getting a chance to be with the person he wants the most. He is supposed to happily accept your decision and wish a good life for you and Aether but his heart wants to take you for himself and make you love only him; however, he must do what is right. Perhaps what's best for him is to think you are dead and grieve. Since he hardly believes he can ever stop feeling what he feels for you. He is such a fool for you.

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gogolucky13 · 4 years

Text

Mile High Club

Summary: You meet Bucky on a plane ride and things escalate quickly. (Modern AU)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Word count: 2,278

Warnings: Smut (fingering, vaginal penetration). Mild swearing and mention of alcohol consumption. (18+ only please).

A/N: This is my entry for @sunflowerxbarnes 1.5k Meme Writing Challenge. Congrats on the follower milestone, love! My prompt was “Well, that escalated quickly” which is in bold. I’m toying with some ideas for a second part so we’ll see! Also, my tags aren’t working but I said I'd post today so here it is anyways! Hope people like! Enjoy! 😊💜

A groan, frustrated and fed-up, rumbles deep in your throat. The yellow flashing ‘Delayed’ taunting as you stare dumbly at it.

Of course.

Add it to the list of things that have gone wrong thus far since you started your day.

The alarm you set for this morning didn’t go off because your phone died during the night. Apparently the charger wasn’t plugged in. Then, the first Uber you ordered left without warning as you frantically searched your apartment for your wallet. When you finally arrived at the airport, the lovely woman working at the check in desk reluctantly informed your carry-on bag exceeded the weight limitations and needed to be checked.

And now, the flight you need to catch for your sister’s wedding is delayed almost two hours. Just wonderful. It was bad enough you were forced to take a red-eye when your boss ‘accidentally’ forgot to put your time-off request in.

Urgently, you thumb out a text to your sister informing you’ll be arriving later than scheduled. You know it’s the last thing she wants to deal with, but it’s out of your control. Clouds and foggy weather in Seattle are to blame, and truthfully, you could say it’s her fault for living somewhere that experiences such dingy weather most days. But you wouldn’t do that.

Instead, you sigh in defeat and find somewhere to sit and pass the time.

Several coffees and a handful of swipe lefts on your dating app later, your plane is finally beginning to board. Grabbing your bag, you get in the queue for your section, and you try to optimistically tell yourself things are only going to get better. That is, until you see some man sitting in your seat.

“Ahem,” a gentle throat clear to gain his attention that is currently focused on finding something in his backpack. “Excuse me,” you try again when he doesn’t respond to your first attempt.

But then he’s snapping his head up to look at you, and you suddenly forget what your issue with him was.

“Sorry?” He genuinely asks, bright blue eyes staring at you in expected anticipation.

“Uh, I...um, you’re in my seat,” you finally manage to get out, an awkward laugh tacked on the end when you gesture to the seat number on your ticket.

His brow furrows, confusion warping into surprise. “I’m so sorry!” He exclaims, quickly hopping up from the seat he occupies to shuffle out into the aisle.

You quickly take note of his height, and…well-built stature. There is no denying this man is attractive, and you don’t miss the quick once over of appraisal he does of you, too.

“It’s been a hectic day,” he sheepishly admits.

“I hear that,” you chuckle, slipping your bag off your shoulder and moving to take your seat.

The man follows, sitting right beside you, and you think this nearly seven hour flight might end up being alright. Silence takes over as the two of you settle into your seats, and you pull out your phone to let your sister know you’ve boarded. Then your seat mate is gaining your attention again as he speaks up.

“I’m Bucky, by the way.”

He holds out a hand for you to shake, and you offer him your name in return.

“Figured we’ve got a long flight ahead of us,” he smiles, and there’s a swoop deep in your belly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You, too.”

“What’s in Seattle? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Oh, uh, my sister is getting married this weekend.”

“That’s cool. I’m actually heading out there for a wedding, too.”

“What a coincidence,” you comment, and he nods in agreement.

The overhead speaker cuts through the soft murmurs and the faint sound of a baby crying somewhere in the back of the plane. Flight attendants run through the emergency evacuation plans and then the pilot is announcing for passengers to buckle their seatbelts for takeoff.

Thirty minutes goes by in a flash, you and Bucky exchanging small stories, including the woes of each of your mornings. By the time the flight attendant comes around offering food and beverages, a mischievous look has taken over Bucky’s features.

“Drinks?”

There’s a twinkle in his eye, and a quiet promise of a good time hidden in the corner of his smile.

“Definitely.”

Gin and tonic. Rum and coke. Minutes roll into hours, time passing by in an intoxicating and dimly lit blur as you continue sharing bits and pieces of your lives. A mention of a time from college, a brief discussion about his sister and then yours, talks of what shows you’ve watched on Netflix. The liquor spurring on the undeniable attraction between you. A quick touch here, a flirty line there, bashful smirks pressed into thin lines to hold back face-splitting smiles. Inhibitions lowering as sip after sip passes through your lips.

“I’ll tell you what, Doll,” Bucky begins, placing his fresh drink onto the tray before him, “I was not looking forward to this flight, but you’ve certainly made it better.”

Doll.

The pet name hasn’t gone unnoticed by you the entire time. It first happened when he excused himself to use the restroom.

“I’ll be back in a minute, Doll.”

Then again when he asked if you wanted another round.

“Another drink, Doll?”

You aren’t sure what’s more intoxicating—the drinks or the spark in Bucky’s eye when he calls you that.

“Well, my original plan was to sleep for most of this flight,” you reply, taking a sip of your cocktail, “but I’m enjoying myself.”

Smirking coyly at him, you watch as Bucky glances to your mouth, his bottom lip catching between his teeth. A pregnant pause fills the space, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of everything that’s been said and done between you. Temptation swirls in his steely blue eyes, pupils dilating and eyelids drooping.

“I really want to kiss you right now.”

The confession initially catches you off-guard, a gasp catching in your throat. But then you quickly recover, the same thought swimming around the bottom of your glass for the past hour.

“Meet me in the bathroom in two minutes,” you say, setting your drink down and scooting by him.

The burn of his stare is felt as you scurry down the aisle, trying your best to be as inconspicuous as possible. The cabin is dark for the most part, except for the few passengers using their overhead lights to read or occupy themselves with something else. Quickly, you open and shut the bathroom door, sure to lock it to deter anyone unwanted coming in.

Giving yourself a quick once over in the mirror, you groan when you see some mascara has crusted in the corner of your eye. Then you take a moment to primp your hair, not that it really matters.

Adrenaline rushes through you at the sound of three faint knocks against the door. Without hesitation, you unlock and open it, revealing a very riled up Bucky. He pushes through the threshold, instantly shutting and locking you both inside the tiny bathroom. Chest heaving against yours, there isn’t another wasted moment as he grips the back of your head to pull you in for a searing kiss.

Your hands around his neck, in his hair. Large arms around your waist, hoisting you up and pressing you against the wall. A moan that’s quickly swallowed up when you wrap your legs around him, the growing bulge in his sweatpants pressing against your thinly covered core, damp and throbbing.

Sweet soda and bitter rum send your senses into overdrive when his tongue interlaces with yours. The desire and need for more intensifying, heating the ever so small space.

“Please,” you breathe out when Bucky trails his lips along your jaw, down your neck. A few nips and sucks eliciting goosebumps across your skin.

Pressing harder against you, a hand snakes up and under your shirt, palming at your breast. The wanting fever takes over, clothes tugged and pulled at, revealing just what is needed most. The ache in your core is almost painful, but it’s quickly subdued when two fingers brush against it. A pleased sigh when Bucky runs them along your wet folds before pushing one, then two fingers inside.

“Oh my god,” you cry, the hold on his shoulders tightening.

“Shh,” Bucky quiets, pressing his lips against yours. “Don’t wanna get caught, do we? I won’t make it in jail.” He chuckles, his mouth curling into a smile which quickly fades as he watches your face contort in pleasure. His nose runs along your jaw, then his forehead rests against yours as he coaxes an orgasm from you. “C’mon, that’s it, Doll.”

Hot breaths fan over open mouths, labored pants strain your lung capacity, and then you feel it. Velvet walls flutter then clamp around his fingers when you reach your peak, a mewl falling from your lips. Bucky kisses you again, hard and desperate, when he retracts his fingers. You’re left feeling empty for a moment, but then the tip of Bucky’s member is nudging at your entrance.

“Are you sure?” He asks breathlessly, blue eyes searching yours for confirmation.

“Yes,” you breathe, gulping for air, “Yes, I’m sure.”

His lips are on yours once more, but you’re unable to kiss him back when he pushes inside you, mouth falling open into a silent ‘o’ as you adjust to his size. Bucky is big, there is no question about that. It’s a burning sensation at first, core clenching at the pain, but he takes it slow.

“Jesus,” Bucky sighs against your neck. Both hands grip your backside as he steadily moves in and out, giving you both the chance to adjust.

Then you’re relaxing, squeezing your legs around his waist, and Bucky takes that as his cue to pick up the pace. Fast and relentless, he pounds into you as he begins the chase for his own release. The coil in your belly is retightening, the threat of another overwhelming orgasm just out of reach. Skin tingling, sweat building, you’re nearly there.

“Don’t stop,” you pant, one hand gripping his neck, the other on his bicep, both holding on for dear life.

A deep groan vibrates against your chest, a sloppy kiss to your neck, Bucky’s thrusts begin to stutter and you know he’s close.

“Please, I’m almost…” But the rest of your plea dies as you cry out in a hushed moan, arms and legs tightly wrapping around Bucky’s large frame.

He continues to move inside you, sending waves of aftershocks through your body. But then he’s pushing into you one last time, bringing you down onto him and stopping once he reaches the hilt, his hot spend coating your walls. A final few twitches of his member, still buried deep in you, makes you shudder.

Bucky leans back, and places a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Fuck, that was incredible,” he chuckles, kissing your lips again, then your cheek.

“Well, that escalated quickly,” you softly laugh, earning another chuckle from Bucky as he nuzzles into your neck.

He holds you for a moment longer, allowing your bodies and minds to come down from their dizzying highs. And then he’s slowly pulling out, earning a hiss from each of you. Tucking his softening member back into his sweatpants, Bucky leaves you with another kiss to the cheek and a I’ll see you back there before he lets you clean up.

Subconsciously, you smooth out your clothes and fix your hair as you walk down the aisle to your seat. No one looks up or gives any notion they’ve heard what you’ve just done, but the secret I know something you don’t know has you imagining all eyes are on you.

Bucky hands you a water as you sit back down and you quietly thank him for it. As you open the bottle and take a sip, he breaks the silence that’s between you.

“What just happened wasn’t my intention when I said I wanted to kiss you,” he states, a sincerity in his voice and an honesty in his eyes. “I really did just mean I wanted to kiss you, but when you looked at me like that…and then, the bathroom, fuck,” he chuckles, glancing to his hands, “you’re just really fucking gorgeous, and…I’ve really enjoyed talking with you.”

He’s looking back to you, and if it wasn’t so dark in the cabin, you’d swear there was a tinge of pink to his cheeks, and not solely a lingering side effect of what just transpired.

A smile stretches along your face at his endearing confession. Truthfully, you weren’t exactly sure what you were expecting to happen when your liquor laced tongue invited him to join you in the bathroom, but you can’t say you regret it.

“I’ve really enjoyed talking with you, too,” you finally respond, and there’s an audible sigh of relief from Bucky in response.

“C’mere,” he says, raising the armrest that separates your seats. Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, he pulls you into his body before placing a kiss to the crown of your head.

After a several quiet moments, Bucky suggests watching a movie on his iPad, and you agree, but neither of you make it through the first half of the film by the time sleep is calling for you. However, despite your fatigue and post-sex haze, you made sure to ask Bucky for his number, which he happily provided.

After he hands your phone back, a smirk creeps across your lips.

“I’m putting you in as Mile High Club.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky x reader #bucky x you

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libraford · 3 years

Text

I owe you all a story about kittens. But its about... a little more than kittens. It's a long one.

I want to tell you all about the kittens, which took place in 2019. But in order to do so, I have to take you back even further, to March of 2018, and concludes in 2021. Because it's about kittens, but it's also about business and all the things that can go wrong.

In March 2018, tragedy struck. The owner of the flower shop died unexpectedly, leaving the business to four capable managers. One of those managers was the man that had hired me, leaving a power vacuum at our location. Grandpa was not the first choice to take the lead, but she stepped up and she became manager. In my opinion, there was no better person for the role: she had only ever worked in the flower industry (assuming we're not counting the one week in 1976 when she worked at a pizza parlor,) and as such she knew the business inside and out.

Prior to this, she had taught all of the designers and practically ran the place when the boss was out, so it was the next logical step. And it was good.

Of course, we had our ups and downs. What I did not realize when I joined the flower shop is that the flower industry is volatile- there are so many variables that went into the creation of floral pieces and if there is one misstep you can be set back anywhere from a day to several thousand dollars. There are late deliveries, there are frightening brides, there are missing piñatas… van fires, flower snobs, color corrections, failed psychics, friends, enemies…

You can set the bar so very low and yet…

The rise and fall of drama at this particular flower shop could be dictated into hours and minutes because sometimes you need to hire people just to fill that space. Grandpa was on record by saying 'if they can walk, talk, and spell their name, hire them.' Even so, we were critically understaffed most of the time because if you hire anyone you're going to get a lot of quitters.

It's a tough cycle to break, and our power was limited.

And we had bigger fish to fry: we had an average of thirty funerals, two weddings, and well over six hundred deliveries per week. Business was booming and we just had to keep up- if you make it one week after the next it doesn't feel so bad.

By March of the following year, the four owners had whittled down to two: my former boss and the former webmaster. We had a district manager now, some kind of accounts position… things like that. It was kind of astonishing that before this, all the work had been done by a single man. But the secrets to his success had died with him.

Things were looking good, actually: the flower business was full of life! We were doing all kinds of special events, starting contracts with businesses and getting our name out there. Drama still plagued us, but as far as I'm aware, that's par for the course for flower shops.

Then, in May 2019, tragedy struck. A tornado ripped straight down the street of our headquarters, demolishing the greenhouse and the historical building that it all started in. No one was injured, but the damages were devastating. Despite all this, we kept working.

We worked hard. And hard. And hard.

And though the new warehouse wasn't slated to be finished until 2021, we reached an equilibrium where things were okay.

But before I get to that, I made a promise to you.

It was a hot day in August and I was walking into my closing shift at 10am. After two years of working with roughly the same people, you got to learning how to tell when something was happening. I walked in to everyone staring at me and acting 'natural.' It never looks natural.

In the back of the store, there was a box that Cherry was standing very purposely in front of.

"What's in the-"

"Sh!" Grandpa spied through the window in the cooler door as someone swung out with a purchase. "Did you find something you like," she asked the customer, trotting over to help him at the register.

"What's happening," I asked Blue.

"Nothings happening, it just kind of… happened."

"Blue… what does that MEAN?"

"There's a customer here, I can't talk about it."

I am bursting at the seams to know what's going on.

Grandpa fared the customer well and went back to her station behind the computer. "Open the box," she said.

Ominous, but okay. I go over to the box and Cherry steps aside. There's something moving inside the box and I wonder if Pam's daughter had folded herself into a box to ride out a panic attack again. I carefully opened the flaps of the box and accidentally disturbed the sleep of-

Four.

Tiny.

KITTENS!

Oh my god, it was the most adorable thing in the world and the poor things were screaming because they had only known the world for a few weeks and everything was strange and blurry and all they knew to do was cuddle for warmth and scream. The box consisted of two black kittens, one tuxedo kitten, and a white seal-point with terminal eye goop.

They immediately started climbing up my arm.

"Not that I'm not thrilled, but… why?"

"Stray cat left her babies out by my pond and wasn't just gonna leave the little fuckers," Grandpa said. The seal-point made it all the way up my shoulder to scream in my ear and stare at me with one clear blue eye. "That one's name is Pop-eye. He's my favorite."

"Jake doesn't get along with them," I surmised. Jake was Grandpa's Australian Shepherd. He was old, blind, deaf, and losing his sense of smell. And he was ornery.

"First thing he did was sit on Pop-eye. So they're gonna be at the shop during the day until we can get them all homed. Know anyone that needs a kitten?"

So, for awhile, we had shop cats. One of the all black twins had been claimed the very next day, but the rest of them were with us for some time. We got very good at feeding them all every hour on the hour and eventually they settled into accepting that 'mom' was seven different people.

In the meantime, we had to hide the three of them from visiting management.

This was not my first round with cat-related crimes.

The district manager, Puppet, was due to come for a visit any time that week. He was supposed to come once a month for a routine check in, and there were only ten days left in August. Likewise, we had to hide the kittens from the customers on the off chance that one of them was a secret shopper.

Backtracking once more to explain: the company had shelled out money to pay a third party to send secret shoppers to grade us on a rubric and also whatever they thought was appropriate. The grades were cleanliness, customer service, how knowledgeable we were of products, things like that. If we got above 90%, there would be a bonus in our next paycheck.

Sounds great, right?

The spies could decide that anything wasn't up to their standard. One woman went on and on about our 'black wall,' which was the outside of our cooler and I'm sorry but… that's not changing. There was a complaint that the table at the front used to showcase our bridal seemed out of place and odd. There dirt in the flower pots… where dirt goes. Corporate reads those comments.

So keeping the children out of sight of the customers and any visiting management became our priority.

'So just keep them in the break room,' I hear you, the reader, suggest.

If you've never owned cats, it is imperative for you to know that they are mostly comprised of spine, and only the smallest of openings will deter them from squeezing into parts unknown. Cats are semi-solids. Kittens are semi-solids with a sense of adventure and little tiny needles for fingernails.

And you can't just tape the box shut.

So… they got out. Well, two of them got out. The tuxedo awoke to find that her brothers had gone exploring without her and did the sensible thing, which was cry about it.

Mood.

I have named this cat Brood X Cicada. The black one can be named Abyss. I'm great at naming cats.

Lucky for us, they're only a few weeks old and walk kind of like little tin soldiers. It took all of five minutes to pry Pop-eye from a piece of Styrofoam and locate Abyss exploring an old toolbox. However, by the time I'm done cat collecting, Brood X Cicada had toddled off in search of her brothers and I'm out of hands to hold kittens in. I stuffed Abyss into my apron pocket and tried to save X from eating plastic.

It is at this moment that Cherry came in to tell me that Puppet the District Manager was on his way, and saw that I was helplessly juggling kittens. Abyss was climbing out of my pocket, eager to join his siblings in the high and exalted position that was my hands.

"We need these kittens out of here," I said. "Who hasn't been on lunch yet?"

Cherry dodged her head back into the workshop. "Hey Key, you been on lunch?" Pause. "You wanna go now?"

Key came into the back room and I handed her the box of kittens. "Take these, in your car. Go to burger King or something, I don't care. Puppet cannot see these. If anyone asks, you're on a route."

Key held the box and took a moment to appreciate the series of events that lead to her being handed a box of kittens in a 'Take this, don't ask questions' kind of matter.

Puppet was in the front door as Key was out the back and we successfully avoided a serious mistake. His visit was only an hour and she walked back in without anyone the wiser.

We made it through the big challenge, now to continue looking for homes for them. Ms. Crow found a friend of a friend of a friend that was excited to take Abyss from us. After some interrogating my friends, I found someone who knew someone who could take Pop-eye and Brood X Cicada. (They were renamed Hocus and Pocus.)

Grandpa cried for every single one of them that had to go. And I remembered my very first day of working there when she introduced herself as 'The Tinman.' What a liar, the softy.

Our days went on kitten-free, the management none the wiser.

It was December when I got the feeling that I should be taking photos of my work to build a portfolio. Something wasn't right, I felt. I couldn't say what it was that put me on edge, but I could only say that all was not well. I took photos of everything that I was proud of, and I was proud of a lot of things. By February, I had over fifty items that I could show off to a potential studio. And I thought- in March, I should start looking to see if other shops are hiring.

And in March 2020, tragedy struck. Our state went into lockdown on March 13, dictating that all non-essential businesses close and non-essential staff be laid off. There were two days where none of us knew what was happening, if we had jobs or if that job was safe.

They laid off all but three designers and Grandpa but kept most the drivers, changed our hours to 8-5, closed Sundays. Canceled weddings. No walk-ins. The three designers were Blue, Red, and me.

Blue was worried about her children. She resigned.

Red's wife was worried about him and harassed him into quitting.

And then there was one.

There's a series of poems I wrote in my journal about being an essential worker during lockdown. There's adorable little doodles of skeletons around the margins, festooned with flowers. They all go something like this:

We are the Skeleton Crew.

We once were seven but now are two

We don't know what to do

So we just work, work, work.

Many may wonder how a flower shop would be considered an essential business. The answer is funerals. We were allowed to remain open because of our relationship with the funeral industry. And sad to say: the industry was booming.

And I did all of it. I made every spray, every 'get well soon' vase, every 'happy quarantine' bouquet. I called angry brides to see if they could postpone, I dealt with everyone's grief and uncertainty.

All the flowers that arrived at US Customs through Italy were destroyed because we didn't know whether coronavirus was transmitted through physical contact and there's no way to sanitize flowers. Not without killing them.

It was me and Grandpa. That was it. Ten funerals a day, and everything else. Flowers were more important than ever: you couldn't be there, so you sent flowers. And flowers and flowers and flowers…

I couldn't leave now. I was important, I was needed.

The work became overwhelming for both of us and we began hiring back some of our staff. Some came back right away, bored out of their skulls having to spend time at home. Can't relate. Key never responded, Cherry was pregnant and shouldn't be out of the house.

Dandy came back, Kali came back, Astra came back. Eventually, Blue. After a month of just me and Grandpa, there was almost a full crew and it was enough for us to get through an average week. It took us a month on our bare knuckles but we finally weren't shouldering the responsibility of seven people.

But we still didn't know jack shit about the future there.

In May, the 'economy opened up,' which is a strategic way of saying that people got tired of never leaving the house and stores were pressured to open back up again before a vaccine was released under threat of… you know what? This isn't a story about how America responded to the coronavirus poorly and you can probably find a better thinkpiece about it written by someone with facts and feelings if you want to squeeze yourself behind a pay wall.

This is about workers rights and kittens, two things that are far more important than the economy.

We got 'Hero Pay,' which was two dollars extra per hour and damn did I grasp onto that with the tendons in my wrists. I had never been paid $12 an hour for anything in my life. They started talking about permanent raises, and benefits, 401K, pregnancy leave… and I started thinking… maybe I could stay. Maybe I can stay here for awhile and it won't be so bad now that I'm getting paid actual human wages. Maybe it will be okay.

Life returned to an uneasy normal while we navigated mask laws, sanitation regulations, safety screens, and daily temperature checks. There are stories to tell about some less than great customers we'd had as people realized that they weren't coping with the pandemic as well as they thought, but they deserve their own entries.

We had a revolving door of open positions. If it wasn't a designer it was a driver or both. People weren't ready to come back to work yet but we still had a business to run. People asked if they could perform this job remotely. I'm not sure how one does flowers from home.

It was August when we started feeling the roots of our problems seep into the foundation.

Grandpa's pride and joy was her funerals. She had spent thirteen years building a relationship with the funeral homes in the area to make sure they trust us and our work. If anything was wrong, even a hair out of place, they knew they could call us and have it fixed before the visitation.

"We want unity across the board on our products," Puppet said. "If you're doing the sprays one way and others don't look the same, it doesn't look very good for Oldman Funeral Home, which has locations in all our cities, does it?" He swept his bangs out of his eyes, which was strange tell but we weren't sure for what.

"Okay," Grandpa said. "Schedule a time for me to go down and I'll teach them the way we do them."

"Okay, then."

She went down, prepared to show the crew in the warehouse what 40 years in the business was capable of, only to be met with a strange kind of resistance.

Their head designer greeted her and immediately started instructing her on how he makes sprays. Grandpa, confused, blinked at him with no words. When he was finished, she picked up her clippers and began making her own.

"That's not how we do it," he said. She was met with criticism after criticism. "That's not enough flowers, you're putting them in wrong, you're still making it one-sided. Why did you put the bow there, this looks nothing like our products."

She stood back after his barrage of blows to the ego. "I guess I'm a little confused."

"I'll say."

"Am I teaching you or are you teaching me?"

"I'm teaching you," he said. "Since they're going to all be made here from now on, they want me to show you how we make them in case of emergency."

She let that simmer. "That's not what I was told."

"You didn't think you were supposed to show me how you do it, did you? That doesn't make any sense. Why would we want to look like yours?"

"Oh, I dunno… maybe because we've kept up 30 accounts for 13 years and your location just lost your very last one because you can't make their delivery times and they're across the damn street."

This was how we learned that corporate was planning on taking our funerals from us.

Funerals were something I was immensely proud of. My ability to turn out a thousand dollar funeral order with limited stock was a subject of envy. I could take a phone order, make the flowers, and the deliver it all by myself within an hour. I was good. We were all good. And we trained anyone that stayed longer than two months how to do this because we wanted every person to be able to fix any problem.

And they wanted to take that away from us.

And they did. Because who was going to stop them?

'But what does that matter to you,' I hear you, the reader, ask. 'Surely this meant less work for you!'

Ah, but for the sprays to get to us, they had to come on a truck. Making them in-house meant that we knew we had them. We had to put our trust in corporate to deliver the goods to us by 7 am or we would have to make them day of.

There were days when the truck didn't come, or where only half the pieces were delivered, or a spray got left in the workshop an hour away. At least once a week, often more.

But you know… we adapted. You just schedule more openers to make sure no one is doing it alone and hope to God that you have all the flowers you need to make it. Which you could never anticipate how many flowers you would actually need because them taking our funerals was supposed to reduce the amount of stock flowers we got as well.

Mornings were nightmares, but we adapted.

Another visit, Puppet told Grandpa that she should get all weekends off. All the other managers do. He suggested that I learn to run routes so she can have weekends, and I said okay. I'll learn it.

I got real acquainted with the map of Ohio, and I hated it. I was a weekend manager with no real managerial power. If someone needed a refund, I had to write a note for Grandpa to email the accounts manager because she wouldn't take requests from anyone that wasn't a manager. Everything just waited until Monday. What was the point of me? I couldn't design while managing and I couldn't fix what was broken, so why even have a weekend manager? Let the animals loose in the zoo and it probably would have been a better fit.

But I powered through. I adapted.

Throughout all this, spreadsheets. Spreadsheets, spreadsheets, spreadsheets. Completely pointless spreadsheets that we were bound to fill out all day every day. They had simple purposes: inventory. You filled one out to take count of the specials so you knew how many there were. Then you had to count again to put them in the system so that they knew how much we had. Then you had to go back and count them again and put that number in the computer so they knew how much to make and send tomorrow.

I spent an hour each day counting and recounting the flowers in the far-off and futile hope that the counts would remain accurate to the end of the day (which they did not because the call center consistently used the wrong codes) and that the stock would be replenished properly in the morning (it was not.)

An hour was lost each day to this and it accomplished nothing, yet they always yelled at Grandpa if the counts were off or it was late. Why stress a system that does jack shit?

And every time there was a new feature or there was a new… thing, oh look! Another goddamned redundant spreadsheet that served no purpose.

But we adapted. We created a rhythm.

Show up early at 6:30 to make sure everything got in, make everything that didn't, get the drivers routed, pull routes for the third party deliveries, process same-day orders, data entry for the funeral consolidated. Then at 7, when the phones start ringing…

Okay, so before I forget:

Instead of installing a new phone line and hiring a few more call center people like a normal company would, our headquarters decided it would save us money if call overflow rerouted to the next available phone line, regardless of which location the phone was at. So we would get calls for the Kentucky store asking questions about what that store has and for the sake of preserving confidence in our brand we were supposed to pretend that we were the Kentucky store. We're just supposed to know or assume to know what each store had in stock because there's no way that could ever backfire.

It was… another thing to yell at us for. And boy did they, because they were listening in on our calls. Not to like… coach us on how to do better, but to tell us we were wrong. Sometimes they would call one of us on the other line to tell someone currently on the main one that they said something wrong. They also would straight up lie and scold us for calls we didn't take. The phones system, was simply a mess.

...so when the phones started up at 7am, and one person is designing, one person is taking unending phone orders, Grandpa is doing damage control. By 8, we have most of last nights orders figured out and it's time to start on same day orders and tomorrow's orders. It's too early to do inventory now because they'll yell at us for doing it too early.

By 9 we have our second wave of same day orders and next day orders, the rest of the world realizes we're open and starts walking in. That requires the attention of an entire person. We're at this point also taking out trash, breaking down boxes, disinfecting, sweeping the cooler.

Typically, there were only two openers on any given day, which meant most of this was all being handled by Blue or me.

By 10 we've caught up, we can do the inventory now without getting yelled at by the four heads at corporate. We're on route #3 by now and someone probably had to go to the same place twice because the orders came in late.

At 11, a crisis has probably happened. Something dropped, something wilted, something wasn't what they imagined. Someone has to go fix it, and that someone was usually me because I knew my way around town better than the other transplants.

This typically returned me to the shop around 1pm, which meant it was time for lunch, bringing me to 2. 3 o'clock was the cutoff for any next day orders to be sent to corporate, which meant that if there were any funeral orders taken for the morning, they would have to be made in-house. This included sprays, which takes half an hour to an hour depending on how complicated it was and if we had the materials and how much else we needed to make for the next day. Or how busy we were.

There was always something called in at the last minute, taking us to 4 and then 5 o'clock, when the openers went home and the same-day orders were cut off.

But see, that was when we stopped taking orders, not when we stopped processing orders. So if an order was placed for the same day at 4:59, it may not go through until 5:30. And by 5:30, chances are you've sent your drivers home for the day. Which means calling the customer to apologize and explain why something can't be sent out today, and no one wants to hear that they fucked up by sending it out late.

So, on more than one occasion, I had to personally deliver flowers on my way home from work in my personal car, thirty minutes out of my way because if we miss a delivery by God will we hear about it. And it was always some damn $25 arrangement with 'God Loves You' written on the tag, hardly worth the gas to Johnstown.

The irony of it being delivered by the witch was lost on no one.

If that didn't happen and the screen was clear, the night was easy and all we had to do was clean up and watch the door.

Unless a last minute order for the next day came in, which was about half the time. All of this for $11 an hour. (Once they got rid of the Hero Pay, it went back down to $11.)

That was an average, unexciting day for us. You got used to those kinds of stresses, but every day I came home and I was so tired and sore that I couldn't move. I started walking with a cane, had a low-grade fever most days, and my hands looked like I'd taken to them with a cheese grater.

But I powered through. I adapted.

Then it was December. The owners had always been generous with Christmas bonuses, handing everyone an envelope of cash. Mine was $500. This was the largest amount of cash that anyone had ever handed me (feel bad for me later.)

And then it was Grandpa's turn, but there were no envelopes left. It had to be a mistake, she thought. She didn't get paid very much for all the work she put into the shop, so she was counting on that bonus to buy presents for her grandchildren. It… it… had to be a mistake, right?

"I didn't get a bonus," she said. "I thought the accountability didn't take effect until January," she said to Puppet.

Before he opens his mouth again, I have to explain yet another thing.

In September, there was a meeting. Now that we were working on benefits and bonus programs and other things to make sure the staff stays, they needed to put in accountability measures for the managers. Effective January 1, managers are reflected by the income of their store, the number of returns, accidents in company vehicles, and high turnover rates.

Pick one of those attributes and decide its bullshit to begin with, and I'm about to show you the entire steer.

"We had to make an example of someone," he said. "So that the other managers know we're serious."

She was being personally punished for a car wreck that happened in 2019 even though she fired the guy that was in it. We had too many returns, he said, but most of them were sent to us from corporate. She was personally held responsible for the high turnover rate during an economic crisis AND a goddamned pandemic… because they needed to make an example out of someone.

And her grandkids didn't get presents this year because of it.

She cried. The last time I saw her cry was when we were saying goodbye to the kittens. It's not the same.

But she got up every day and listened to them scream at her while we counted and counted and recounted the fucking Christmas specials because the numbers weren't right and we couldn't make them right because someone in the call center couldn't figure out the codes and in their eyes it was our fault, too- we had to be stealing the flowers or something.

"It sucks and then its over," she said. It was how she dealt with holidays: "It sucks and then its over."

We were all angry for her. I got asked to go to the headquarters and help them mass produce more fucking specials and I offered the beat them up for her and she told me not to get involved. Head down, do the work, get it done.

One of the call center girls died of a heart attack a few days before I was due to help them mass. We were supposed to go to her funeral, but we all missed it because there was so much work to do.

Wait, let me back up… again. The company gave us all life insurance. The number we were quoted on our life insurance policy was $10,000, which seems like a lot but in the funeral business it's not. Your average funeral will eat up most of that, if not all. It's very expensive to die right now.

At least… we all thought it was $10k. I was certainly told $10k.

Turns out it was $1k, which isn't enough to buy you a box for your remains. The call center crew ended up crowdsourcing the rest- she didn't have much family.

And none of us could go to the funeral because we were working.

I worked two twelve hour shifts in that warehouse making the same goddamn centerpiece over and over again while a Frenchman in a scarf told me I was doing it wrong, while everyone was grieving on a time crunch.

I really should have beaten them up.

But we got through Christmas, for what it was worth. We found Grandpa some sales that she could get gifts from and we all worked together to make sure we were okay through it. I mean, we weren't- it was blind leading the blind. But we tried.

And then it ended. "It sucks and then its over," she'd always say.

And into January we go and we're back into the stupidity of trying to fight with hq about funerals. I'm constantly told that if we needed certain things we should have ordered them.

I… did. I did. I ordered everything we needed every damn day and it still never came because the left hand and the right hand can't even coordinate enough to pull off a high-five. But it can't be their fault. It has to be Grandpa's somehow.

Now during the week of Christmas, Grandpa had to take an extra day off because she got sick. It wasn't Covid, thank goodness. I can imagine it was a stress-related issue, but it's not my business. Due to the holiday, this put her at under 40 hours for the week.

So they paid her hourly.

...which is extremely illegal to do to a salaried employee, especially one that works way more than 40 hours a week with no overtime.

And then they told her that she'd already lost her quarterly bonus because of a fender-bender that happened on my watch, and because she lost 39 employees last quarter.

I write everything down. I keep a journal. I cannot find 39 employees, even going back the entire year… during a pandemic. They have to be making this up. They have to be because there is no way they can hold the dude that was fired for literally sleeping in the men's room against her.

And I was close to just telling them all that… when my grandma died.

I'm not getting into it, really. Because you know… she was 96 years old and… it happens. It's sad, but it happens. But the relevant point to make is that I was given an… inheritance. It wasn't a lot. Grandma wasn't loaded. But it would be enough for me to keep afloat for awhile if I ever needed to.

When I told my girlfriend, she said: 'you could quit your job.'

And I didn't want to think about that because the flower shop needed me. I was important there. I was special. And Valentine’s Day was just around the corner.

But I was thinking about it. I thought about it every day.

A week before Valentines Day, Grandpa was inconsolable. She had to leave work because her dog, Jake, wouldn't stop bleeding. She needed to get him to the vet.

Two hours pass and Blue gets a message asking her to come help her move the dog. Grandpa lives alone and she's not very strong.

Blue doesn't like dogs. She was bitten by one the first time she ever made a delivery.

And I am known for exceptional physical strength. So I went.

When I arrived, Grandpa was a mess. I had never seen her cry so much, and it wouldn't stop. And I was trying to be strong, but it's hard. Jake was still alive, but bleeding. He was confused and upset, and blind and deaf. He barked, he growled, and he lunged… but always pulled back when his legs buckled from the pain.

I had her grab a blanket and we rolled him onto it, using that to lift him. He thrashed and growled and snapped at me while we walked him towards the door, but he wasn't getting out of the wrap we had him in.

As we're out the door, I noticed a man at the neighboring house. He raised his hand in greeting, but lowered it in confusion.

"Grandpa, is it alright if I get him to come help while you bring the car around?"

The best she could do was nod.

"Yeah, sorry, to bug you but can I ask for a little help here?" He looks at what we're doing and drops his trash can lid to come help. "Yeah, just take that end there and we're gonna ease him into the car when she comes around."

He nodded, took the ends, and we tucked a very confused Jake into the back seat. I thanked the neighbor, Grandpa sped off, and I went back to work feeling extremely odd about it.

That was the first time that I'd ever met the dog: on his way to be put down.

I know it seems weird to tell that story, but there's a reason. Part of it is symbolic. Part of it has to do with kittens. But we're not there just yet.

So now it's February and it is crunch time for Valentine’s Day. We have no earthly idea what this holiday is going to look like because past experiences have us anticipating a large number of walk ins, but state regulations have put a limit of six customers inside the store at any one time. We were never given any… instructions on how to enforce that rule, so we just kind of vaguely set out roles for who has to be the bouncer at the flower shop.

But before all of that, we had to make 275 two-dozen red rose arrangements in bowls. Based on our sales last year and general growth, we were expecting something close to five hundred deliveries on our busiest day. If I wasn't making them, I was counting them. And I was counting, and I was counting, and I was counting… every hour, just like it was at Christmas. We used up every single red rose in the place and came up short.

To which we were scolded: we must have used the roses they sent us for other orders because there was no way the error could have been on their end! Their inventory was impervious to mistakes. Somewhere between the warehouse and our store, twenty-five packs of roses went missing! And why is it only our store that has these problems? Clearly it must be our fault- a store full of thieves and liars and delinquents.

They ended up sending more just because… you know… they care. I guess.

And every hour, they needed a number of something and I counted, and counted and counted…

I think it was February 8 that I started crying every day. When I slept I was stiff as a board because I made so many mistakes throughout the day that the idea of coming to work the next day just to make more mistakes made me lock up entirely. There was no way to relax. There was no winding down from a hard day of work because my body could not move anymore.

I felt like I was made of splintering wood.

I had a dream around this time that I quit my job. I was so happy. I thought about it almost every hour.

So I stayed out of the way at work, picking up cleaning projects because at least there I could be useful and it was dark enough in the cooler that if I started crying no one had to see it.

That cooler was so clean. I wouldn't recommend eating off of it because I used an entire bottle of bleach to clean the floor.

If we're not counting the constant barrage of demands from corporate to count, count, count; Valentine’s Day was worryingly uneventful. Previous holidays were chaotic: filling the requests of the most desperate and clueless men with deep pockets and expensive tastes. Corralling the temporary drivers and make sure no one gets into any crashes or… uh...tries to sell unregulated merchandise from their trunks. Trying to decide what "Malibu Barbie Pink" meant for that one customer who comes in every six months and orders it but has rejected every color pink on the spectrum that our store has ever offered.

On this one… nothing important happened.

We were… slow.

Grandpa started sending people home early because there weren't many orders. We ran out of projects to do.

Sounds great, right?

...heh…

Corporate would like to know why our store is under projected sales by over 200, as if we have any say in how many people buy from us. Like we personally called all our typical customer base and told them not to come to this store. "Yes, hello Mrs. Penderghast? I'm sorry we can't fill your Valentine's Day order this year because we suck balls and don't want your business. Have a nice weekend. Say hi to the grandkids for me."

I don't… fucking KNOW! I don't work in PR! I'd ask the people in that department if they know what happened but… that's the owners. So who really is the fuckup here? Not me, that's for fucking certain! I cleaned the cooler. That's all I did all weekend was clean the Gods damned cooler because there wasn't enough work to go around so I made work for myself.

And then: "Why are the counts off," asked Mt. Rushmore. See, we called them that because between the owners, Puppet, and the head designer we had four white men looking down at us while we did all the work and built their success on the backs of their forefathers. Well… to me it was anyway. To everyone else it was four dudes that looked down on you.

"Why are the counts off?"

Oh, the COUNTS are off? Well, let me just drop everything I'm doing right now and count them for the third time in the past hour because that takes fucking priority.

"There's 95 specials missing from your inventory. Where are they?"

...okay, 95 is a lot. But it was also kind of hard to know how they were 'missing' when we'd sold all of the 275 that we made. How can they be missing if we sold them.

"We need to know where they are."

We don't know where they are. Because we sold all of them. The math didn't add up.

But they hounded us about it like we'd stolen them and resold them on the street corner. Which, to their defense, had happened once (but Sugar stopped doing that when her corner was taken over by the woman who accused Jay of being a demon.) But 95 is a huge number, and these arrangements were a foot wide and two feet tall. Someone would have noticed if a 100x200 foot square opened up in the cooler.

We literally could not know what the fuck they were talking about.

And the truth was extremely stupid: those 95 pieces were redeliveries. When someone has an issue with their order, like it didn't come or it was left out in the snow and got damaged or… someone put the name of their ex on the card instead of their wife… we send a replacement. But depending on who took the phone call, a person might use the wrong code and put it in for 'redeliver' instead- which counts it as another order.

We weren't missing 95 arrangements. We had 95 redeliveries. They hounded us about inventory for two days over a clerical error.

I decided I'd had it. We were going on a full week of crying every time I had a moment alone. They had made us feel like everything that went wrong was our fault: from low turnout to high turnover, missed deliveries and trashed sprays, lost accounts and new grievances…

But did they ever say a Gods damned thing about how hard we worked? How good we were? About how great a team we were under pressure? We once pulled together an entire wedding in fifteen minutes. My ass carried this store through the pandemic. I have done… so much.

So fucking much.

And yet it's our fault.

I had been reasoning with myself that I would stick around for the aftermath when Grandpa was eventually fired: we'd all felt it was coming. But I got that little bit of cash and all my joints were screaming and every time we got negative feedback a part of me died.

The following Tuesday had seen a massive snowstorm. Things that weren't already closed due to the pandemic were closed due to weather.

But we still had to be there. Because someone had to be there to make all the funeral pieces.

Because there wouldn't be a truck the next day, which meant that all of the funeral pieces that we'd sent to the headquarters needed to be made in-house. Which, once again, could have been avoided if we had kept the funeral orders in-house to begin with.

I waited until everyone had cleared out before I said it.

"Grandpa, I have to quit."

I don't think anyone ever looked so disappointed in me in my life.

"Why?"

"The way they treat people here is terrible and I can't see myself doing another Mother's Day for this company. They're so… mean! And for no damn reason! I have cried every day for the past week because I see the way they treat you and I'm… I'm tired."

I thought she was going to cry, but she nodded. "I can't stop you," she said. "I shouldn't stop you. If it's affecting your mental health like this, I'll miss you but its for the best. You know they'll want a written notice."

"And you know I'll tell them the truth," I said.

"...it's not me, is it?"

"If I worked for just you and those fuckers were out of the picture, I would stay. And you can count on me to tell them that."

"Any flower shop you apply to would be lucky to have you."

So I drafted up a resignation letter telling them exactly how I feel: that the way they run this company was asinine and they treated their employees like garbage. They received it on Thursday. Everyone at the shop knew by then. They were upset…

...but they understood.

Puppet did not understand. He emailed Grandpa asking her what she's doing that her people keep leaving.

He didn't see it. He didn't see that he was part of the problem. It always had to be someone else's fault. I explicitly said in my letter whose fault it was and he still didn't take any responsibility.

But suddenly I'm one of their best designers, and he begged me to reconsider, take some time off to think about it. They desperately wanted me to stay and they were willing to bargain, I just needed demands.

No one's ever… begged me before. I don't know if I like that.

This is when it dawned on me that I was next in line. It all made sense now: training me to route, making me do all the extra work, and now they want me to stay?

They were planning on getting rid of Grandpa and promoting me to manager. In a perfect world where Grandpa resigns willingly and I’m promoted on my merits as a designer and the company wasn’t very quickly circling the drain, I would be excited. But I wasn’t. I was frightened. I watched them take a confident, extremely talented woman and turn her into the whipping boy of the flower shop. And if I were in her position, I would have quit. But I don’t have the strength to stand up to the people that are signing my paycheck.

Why… am I at a place where the idea of moving upward makes me more scared than excited?

Flattering, but no. I've seen how you treat your people. My demands are to treat them better.

It was the longest week for me: making lists of pros and cons. I had made a lot of friends there and there's stuff that I will never forget. But the fact that the only people who didn't understand why I was leaving were the people who had the most to lose really hit me in the knees. I could tell them every day for the rest of their lives why they suck and it wouldn't matter because nothing was ever their fault.

And at 7:00 on Friday, I turned in my key.

I didn't have a plan, I didn't have anything lined up. This was one of the hardest decisions I ever had to make and I was just kind of… throwing myself at it.

I don't do that. I always have a plan. I look into every possible scenario and I try to make the smart choice. And this time…

I didn't.

It was probably stupid.

But I slept for 12 hours the next night and I could feel my bones settling into their rightful places. I didn't realize how many health problems were caused by standing for 9 hours a day, 11 days a week until I was home all the time to notice them changing. I will always have a limp from trying to pretend I don't have a limp. I'm pretty sure that ulcer is chronic. But my back isn't seizing up and I don't cry every day anymore.

That's something, I think.

About a week after my departure, I got a text from Grandpa that said:

"Hey guess what."

"What," I replied.

The next text was a picture of a week's old seal-point kitten with terminal eye-goo, wrapped in a towel.

"Pop-eye!?"

"I'm keeping this one," she said. The strays had dropped a litter of identical baby kittens by her pond. Two years later, with Jake put down, she could finally have Pop-eye, even if it was version 2.0.

The next text was a few days later. "Puppet fired me."

"What!? Why?"

"Too many accidents, too high turnaround. The new people suck, he says no one wants to work with me."

"Are you okay? How are you doing?"

"I'm okay." She paused and the loading screen did its little dot dance. "I'm playing with my kitten."

#cw #pet death #death #workers rights violations #if you want to know everything #this is everything

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nothing-but-dreamy · 3 years

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HAUNTED

Pairing: D:BH!CONNOR x HUMAN!READER (gender neutral)

Words: 4.058

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING! mention of suicide; odd behavior; cursing; hurt - comfort;

A/N: Another day - another request...

I really hope you like it! Thanks again for your idea.

Synopsis: You are a Detective of the DPD and had worked many cases with Hank. Until something went utterly wrong. Since then, you get haunted by your past until you see only one last way out. Luckily, Connor is there to help you.

"You know you don't have to do this.", you said serious.

Sara pulled the wire of the bug underneath her shirt before it got taped on her back, "Yes, but I want to. I have to. I owe it to my sister to do this. She shall find peace finally and like the Lieutenant said, me as her twin, I have the best chance to get this bastard. He doesn't know that she's dead. Therefore, I'm your best chance to get the information you need, Detective."

"Detective..."

"Detective."

"Detective, YLN!"

As if awakening from a deep trance like state, you focused back on reality as your name got called out. Haunted by your typical dark memories, you hadn't even noticed where you were. Slowly, you opened your eyes. The owner of the calm male voice stood on the outside of your car, next to the window of the driver seat, and looked concerned at you through the glass.

You blinked several times. The sun, which already fell through your windshield because it stood so high in the morning sky, made you blind for several moments and as you moved, you noticed your aching back and neck from sleeping in the car in an unhealthy position. Obviously, you had knocked yourself out with booze again.

"Detective YLN, my name's Connor. I'm your new partner. I'm the android sent by CyberLi- I got sent from Captain Fowler to meet you. Rather, he sent me to find you because you missed a meeting this morning. And now, he wants to see you.", Connor said and watched you. Even if he had already learned a lot about human behavior from Hank, there were still some mysteries to solve.

Like: why are you sleeping in a car in a position that harms eighty percent of your muscle tissue through soreness and lets your bones and joints burn like fire when you move?

Or: why are you drunk this early in the morning-

"Hey, tin can! Shut the fuck up!", you shouted.

Connor stared at you in shock as he realized that he had asked the questions out loud instead of just thinking about them. A habit he started with as Hank had left the DPD to retire finally, "I'm sorry, Detective. I haven't notice-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... what do you want, Carlos?", you asked, searching for your flask you couldn't find.

"My name's Connor, Detective. And as I said, Captain Fowl-"

"Oh, yeah... the meeting... right. Get in the car.", you ordered and even if Connor was sure that it wasn't a good idea for you to drive in the state you were, he also knew that any kind of discussion would lead to nowhere. He still knew that from his time with Hank.

Twenty minutes later, for a way that only took ten minutes usually, you, followed by Connor, entered the DPD which was crowded with androids, policemen and people who were complaining about some uninteresting nonsense. You made your way through all these people, trying to dodge as many colleagues as you could - but of course, one of them caught you. Like always.

"Hey, YN! This is the DPD and not some bar. You won't find any kind of booze around here."

"Just shut the fuck up, Reed! Or otherwise, I will tell everyone that you own some pair of bright pink panties- oh, upsi! My bad!", you called out, gleaming at him with a smirk. Everyone started to laugh.

Gavin stared at you with a hate-filled glance, he was fuming, "Fuck you!", he muttered.

"Oh, sweet. That's all you got, Reed?", you shot back with a grin.

But before Gavin could respond to anything, Captain Fowler stepped out of his office, "Detective YLN! In my office!"

"And? Who's laughing now?", Gavin said with a smirk and winked at you before he left the DPD to do some work.

Connor closed the door of the office behind him as you were inside. You walked over to the Captain's desk to sit down in one of the chairs but even without looking up you sensed the anger radiating from your boss. It was tangible in the air. Without asking, you took one of the fresh glasses on Fowler's desk to throw an aspirin into it. Then, you pulled out the flask you had found finally to fill the glass with a transparent liquid.

Fowler watched you, half shocked and half concerned, "What are you doing?"

"Taking an aspirin, Sir. I have a murderous headache."

"And what was in the flask if I may ask?"

"Vo- uhm... water. Just water, Sir.", you answered before you gulped down the bubbling mixture.

Fowler looked from you at Connor who also seemed to be concerned about the fact that you had mixed pharmaceuticals with alcohol before the Captain looked back at you, "Where have you been this morning? We had a meeting."

You put the empty glass back on the desk, "Oh, yeah... the meeting. I'm sorry, Sir. I was on observation and obviously, I lost track of time.", you explained, leaning back in the chair, waiting for the aspirin and ‘water’ to do its magic.

"Observation, huh? For what case? What's the file number?", Fowler asked, leaning back in his own seat, folding his hands in front of him while waiting for your answer.

"Oh, yeah... the file number. One moment, Sir-"

Fowler slammed his plane hand on the desk's surface that you were jumping in your seat, "Cut this shit, god dammit! You have no file number because you have no current case, Detective! Let me guess, Connor had found you sleeping in your car, right? How many nights had it been this time?"

You kept eye contact but you gave him no answer. You just gritted your teeth and pressed your jaws together.

Fowler sighed, "Listen, YN, you're a great Detective but since the things with Sara happened-"

"No!", you called out, jumping from your chair and stopping the Captain mid-sentence with your sudden outburst, "We won't talk about this!", you said serious before you turned around to let your glance roam through the office with all the busy people, "Alright, Sir. What's the matter with the android? Monitoring what I do and what I don't do?"

"Connor is the former partner of Hank-"

"Oh and now, Hank doesn't want to play with it anymore so you give it to the next screwed up cop you can find?", you asked, turning around to look at Connor with his fancy clothes and neat hairstyle before you looked back at the Captain.

"Hank retired two weeks ago. I thought you knew that.", Fowler said and looked even more concerned at you.

"No, I'm sorry. I didn't get invited to any funny parties nor did I got a notification. But who cares. So, the android's with me then? How long?", you asked emotionlessly.

"It's your partner now. Brief it into your cases-"

You stepped forward, aiming for the door, "Cases, Sir? What cases? You already said I have none.", you pointed out while leaving the office.

Fowler watched after you, not amused about your unpredictable behavior and the fact that you were carrying a gun.

"Sir?", Connor asked and brought the Captain back from his thoughts.

"Yeah... Listen... as you can see YN has a few problems. They used to be a good cop in the past until one of the cases they and Hank had operated went wrong. The anniversary is in two days and I fear... well...", Captain Fowler stopped himself, watching you grabbing a coffee from the kitchen.

"I will keep an eye on them.", Connor said and left the office as well.

Connor was surprised how carelessly you were in managing your cases - even if it were just a few. There was nothing special or difficult and yet, you weren't able to file the cases properly, "Detective, this report here, I'm not sure to which case it belongs.", Connor asked as he had read an interview of a woman who had reported her dog as missing. Added to that, the interview was part of a file about an armed theft in the heart of the city. There was no connection at all to these two cases.

Without looking up, you took a folder from your desk to hand it over to Connor, "Yeah...here. That's the case you're searching for."

Connor took the case and skimmed through the pages several times before he looked at you, frowning, "Detective, this is a file about a stolen android.", he pointed out.

"Yeah, just ... put the page in this file. I'm sure it will be right.", you said, ignoring the android's expression.

"Detective, I'm not sure-"

"Excuse me, I need some more coffee.", you cut him off, standing up to aim for the kitchen with your mug in your hands.

"And I thought Hank was challenging.", Connor whispered under his breath and shook his head while he still tried to figure out which pages were parts of which cases.

"You're a murderer, Detective! That you still think yourself as worthy enough to call yourself a cop is way out of my understanding!", a jarring, female voice echoed through the office and drew the attention of everyone to her and to the person that stood in front of her - you.

Connor craned his head to watch the scene like everyone else did. But while the attention of the others was because of curiosity and spitefulness, Connor watched you and your bodily reaction to the woman's accusations. You stood there like a timid fawn. The cockiness you presented before seemed to be gone completely. Your heart rate increased, you were shaking and your eyes became big as if you were intimidated by the woman in front of you. The woman stepped even closer and Connor watched, surprised, that you stayed where you were. Easily, you could have escaped the unknown woman and yet you stayed rooted to the spot.

"Because of you I lost both of my daughters! I already have lost the one and yet, you thought it would be fair to take the other away from me as well!", the woman screamed erratic, tears were already running down her cheeks but she was still not able to stop herself and no one else was brave enough to step into the scene, "You and your partner will pay for what you have done! You will burn in hell for that!"

"Chris! Escort Mrs. Mason into my office!", Captain Fowler ordered and stopped the woman's outburst even if it was a bit too late.

Connor saw tears building in the corners of your eyes. Quickly, your glance scanned the area but the only way you could find was the way out. You aimed for the precinct's main entrance to leave the building in a hurry. Connor followed you. He ran through the office and left the building as well but as he stepped onto the pavement you were nowhere to be seen. Like a ghost, you had vanished between all the other pedestrians.

Hank had just taken a new beer to watch the next half of the Detroit Gears game as someone rang his doorbell. In the penetrant way how this person used his doorbell and the way how Sumo reacted, Hank knew who the visitor was, "Connor, hey. What are you doing here? It's a bit too early to go for a walk with Sumo.", the older man said but he already saw that something else was bothering the android.

"Yeah, actually, I'm not here because of Sumo.", Connor said.

Hank let him in and Connor came straight to the point that kept him busy, "One year ago, you and Detective YLN had a case together. But something went wrong. What exactly happened? I couldn't find the case file."

Hank frowned, "Why do you ask?"

"Captain Fowler teamed me up with Detective YLN because of the anniversary of this case. He's concerned about the instability of their constitution."

Hank shook his head. He missed working with the android but he didn't miss the long-winded explanations of him. Then, suddenly, he became serious again, "Instability, huh?"

"Yes. They seem to be so unpredictable in their behavior that Captain Fowler fears something worse will happen because the anniversary would be in two days. I ... I found them this morning sleeping in their car.", Connor explained with a frown.

Hank raised his brows in surprise and at the same time, he felt worried, "YN and I, we... In the past, we worked together on some cases. Well, that changed with our last case. Lynn and Sara Mason.", he said slowly, feeling the pain stinging his heart as he remembered what had happened one year ago.

"Why couldn't I find much about it in the archives of the DPD?"

Hank stood up from the couch, walking over to the book shelf to pull something out that was hidden between his several jazz vinyl. He walked back to Connor, offering the android the case file but stopped as Connor was grabbing for it, "You just can find the basics of this case because I kept it printed. Some wounds are so deep, it's better if not everyone is able to find a tool to reopen them all over again.", he said and gave Connor the file finally.

***

The next day, Connor drove again to your place and was happy to see that you weren't sleeping in your car again. As he knocked at your door, you opened him with a smile. You had taken a shower, your hair was still damp and your clothes were all fresh and clean. Connor noticed that you weren't accompanied by the scent of alcohol and he even couldn't smell anything in your breath as you talked with him.

"I... I want to apologize, Connor. Our start yesterday wasn't the best. I'm looking forward to working with you. I'm sure we will make a great team."

Connor knew you just one day, not enough to understand a person completely, and yet he had the strange feeling of something going on that occupied his mind suddenly by the way you acted.

"Oh, can you call a taxi?", you asked while sipping on your coffee.

"What happened to your car, Detective?", Connor asked surprised while ordering the vehicle.

You smiled at him, "Oh, I sold it. I will have no use of it anymore. And please, call me YN."

To Connor's surprise, your behavior stayed kinda strange even if he couldn't say what it was exactly. You and Connor went early to the DPD. On your way in, you talked with colleagues. You joked with Chris and as Gavin entered the kitchen, you pressed a cup of coffee into the Detective's hand which left him utterly confused.

Gavin stopped Connor by stepping into his way, "Hey, tin can. Is this coffee drugged or what is going on here?"

In the way Gavin looked at Connor, the android noticed real unease, "No, Detective. The coffee is not drugged or anything. I guess others would call it 'tasty'. You can drink it.", he said but looked frowning at you. As Connor left Gavin, the green-eyed man was still sniffing suspiciously on the hot liquid as if the mug might contain acid instead of his most favorite beverage.

Connor went back to the desk opposite of yours and was surprised to see how you cleared out the different pages of the case files. Several small piles were lying in front of you while you tried to bring them into the right order and to collate them.

Later that day, Connor was puzzled as you went to the Captain to apologize to him as well as you had done it with Connor in the beginning of the day. You apologized for your behavior the day before and of all the past weeks, "I know I did a few things wrong, Captain. But I promise to change that in the future. In fact, the change will happen soon and then, everyone will be pleased with me again.", you said before you took your jacket to leave the precinct.

Connor looked at the Captain and saw on the man's face what he was thinking: strange.

‘Strange’ was the only word Connor could find to describe your work day even although you were acting practically perfect. You were nice. You had sorted your cases. You had apologized for your behavior. And yet, something was odd. Something felt wrong. Connor sensed that something was ... going on. But he couldn't put his finger on it. So, out of instinct, Connor followed you and drove to your place with a taxi.

As he knocked at your door, you opened, smiling at him and dressed in a bathrobe, "Oh, Connor, hey. What is it? I just wanted to take a bath."

Surprised, Connor looked at you. He was sure you had taken a shower this morning so there was no need to take a bath and then, he reminded himself that he still had not much knowledge about humans and their several oddities, "Yeah, I ... I just wanted to ask if everything is alright, Detective.", he said honestly.

You smiled at him, "Of course, Connor. Everything is more than alright. I just need some time to relax and tomorrow, everything will make sense to you and the others. Thanks for checking on me, that means a lot to me. Goodnight.", you said and closed the door.

Connor stared at your closed door for several moments before he stepped slowly back to walk down the hallway. Since he turned deviant, Connor's systems needed a bit longer to process information - not much, it were just seconds, but sometimes that could be more than enough.

As Connor was still connecting the different dots and hints you had spread the whole day, Hank called him, "Connor! Where are you?"

"I'm leaving YN's place. They want to take a bath. Why? What's the matter?", Connor asked as he sensed the slightly concerned undertone in Hank's voice.

"You have to go back, Connor! Go back to them! YN hates to bath!", Hank demanded worried.

Even if Connor was confused, he turned around, walking back the way to your apartment, "Hank?"

"I just got a letter from YN. It got brought by a delivery man. It's a handwritten suicide letter. Hurry and stop them!", Hank ordered.

Connor ended the call, hurried down the corridor and without knocking, he broke down the door of your apartment. Quickly, Connor ran through your small apartment, already seeing the door of your bathroom ajar. He stormed into the room and the second his eyes landed on you lying in the bathtub with the razor blade between your fingers, he was by your side, taking the blade away to throw it into a far corner before you could even cut. Slowly but demanding, Connor dragged you out of the water, took a towel and laid it around your shaking frame because you already were ice cold. Obviously, you had filled the bathtub with cold water to support a fast sleep while your blood would have drained from your body after the cut.

You were screaming and yelling for Connor to let go of you. You demanded the razor back and that he should leave your apartment but Connor ignored everything. You punched against his chest with your fists but Connor stayed unimpressed, determined to save your life. With a strong grip, he wrapped you into the towel and also laid the bathrobe around your shoulders before he guided you out of the bathroom. You were still struggling in Connor's arms to get free. All you wanted was to end what you had started. Desperate, hot tears were running down your cheeks as you were crying violently about the fact that you were still alive. Alive and alone with the memories which were still haunting you like mean demons.

Connor placed you on the couch, sitting next to you and wrapping his arms around your frame to give you even more support and comfort while you cried against his chest, "Please, just let me die...", you cried out between two heavy sobs.

"No, Detective. I have to refuse your request."

"Cut this 'Detective' shit. Just call me YN, god damnit.", you whimpered helplessly because now, everything was just worse than you had expected. You had planned everything and yet, the android was there to destroy your neatly made plans, "What are you even doing here, Connor?"

"Hank received your letter and called me right on time."

You leant closer against Connor's chest with closed eyes, seeking the android’s presence while cursing about yourself, "Hell, the letter. I should have changed the delivery time to a later one. Then, everything would be over. All the pain. All the guilt. All the haunting.", you breathed with a sad voice.

Connor tightened the embrace around you even more, "It's about Sara Mason and her sister, isn't it?", he whispered softly, placing his chin on top of your head to enclose you even more.

You nodded, not surprised that Connor already knew it, "Yeah... it's my fault that Sara died. It's my fault that her mother lost both daughters.", you cried out, clawing into Connor's white shirt with your fingers.

"Well, I read the file. Sara came up with the idea to get bugged and to infiltrate the drug dealer who had killed her sister Lynn. I mean, the idea was good. It was just bad luck that the dealer already knew about Lynn's death and looked right through the façade you and Hank had planned.", Connor said softly. To calm you even more, he stroked soothingly over your back with his hands.

You leant back to look into the android's face and for the first time, you noticed the incredibly intense, brown color of his soft eyes, "Y-you don't understand. Not even Hank knew that but Sara didn't come up with the idea to get bugged on her own. I dropped this idea as I was alone with her and manipulated her to think it was her own idea. I mean, how evil can someone be to do this, huh?", you asked, closing your eyes about this painful memory.

Connor cupped your face, knowing that humans needed physical contact to feel secure and safe and he wanted to provide you both as well as he could. He was glad to see that you opened your eyes again and that you stayed where you were, "Listen, neither you nor Hank nor someone else could have known every single possibility in this case. The idea was good. The Captain said the same in his official statement. But ... Look, kid, sometimes bad things happen, and you can't do anything about it.", he said softly.

Through a sob of new tears because Connor was the first for a very long time that was caring about you this much, you chuckled low, "Have you... did you just quote the Lion King to cheer me up?"

Connor looked slightly caught with a sheepishly smile playing around his lips, "Yeah... Hank said I should improve my knowledge about pop culture. I binge watched all the Disney movies I could find last week. I thought this quote was suitable... Or did I have done it wrong?"

You chuckled a bit more about his innocence and strong will to help you, "No, it was pretty good. Thanks for... you know... thanks for being here with me.", you whispered low, feeling your cheeks reddening.

Connor leant back on your couch, bringing you close to his chest so you could snuggle against him, "I'm your partner now, YN. And partners are looking out for each other. You can count on me no matter what it is.", he said softly and after five minutes where he just stroked comforting over your back, he noticed your even breathing that told him that you had fallen asleep. Hank called and without making too much noise, Connor briefed his former partner that you were alright.

You were still alive. You still had a long way to go to leave your haunting ghosts behind but Connor was sure you would make it. You were strong enough to do it - and he would be by your side to support you as promised.

#detroit become human imagines #detroit become human connor #rk800 x reader #dbh connor x reader #connor #detroit connor #connor rk800 #dbh connor #rk800 #detroit rk800 #dbh rk800 #rk800connor #detroit become human rk800 #male reader #female reader #gender neutral reader #hurt comfort

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makeste · 3 years

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BnHA Chapter 313: Deku VS Lady Nagant

Previously on BnHA: Hawks’s super-hot badass murder senpai Lady Nagant showed up to fire a cupid’s arrow into my heart, and a bunch of literal bullets into my son. Deku was all “oh shit it’s Hawks’s super-hot badass murder senpai, what do I do, let me think back to Hawks’s advice for a sec.” Flashback!Hawks was all “anyway Deku so if my super-hot badass murder senpai ever shows up you’re basically screwed so you’d better abscond the fuck out of there.” Present!Deku was all “lol idek why I flashed back to that conversation since I’m just going to do the exact opposite of what Hawks said” and charged directly toward Nagant because WHY NOT. Overhaul was all “waah I need to get back to my boss who I put in a coma out of love” and Nagant was all “jesus christ why did I even bring you here” and had a flashback to AFO who was all “ILU NAGANT IMMA GIVE YOU AN EXTRA QUIRK SO PLEASE CAPTURE DEKU FOR ME PLEASE AND THANKS” and yeah. Shit is all over the place right now and I love it.

Today on BnHA: All Might gets attacked by a pair of discount assassins and is all “Call an ambulance! ...BUT NOT FOR ME” and it’s really badass but also I really wish he would stop tempting fate like this. Lady Nagant is all “[casually flies around town shooting shit]” and I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t read an entire chapter of just that. Deku is all, “[gets shot (≥_<)]” and releases a giant Smokescreen which prompts En to show up. En is all, “( •᷄⌓•᷅ ) (⌣̀ Δ⌣́) ( •̀_•́ )σ (¬､¬) (눈_눈)” which I consider to be a high point of both the chapter and of my life. The chapter ends with Deku using the Third’s quirk to launch a bunch of random objects at Nagant so that he can jump up and grab her arm all sneaky-like, and I’m sure this is going to prompt another week’s worth of discourse that I don’t care about at all, but fuck it, I’m having a good time.

OH WE’RE CUTTING BACK TO ALL MIGHT WELL THAT’S NICE I GUESS. CONGRATS ON NOT BEING DEAD

you named your car??

you named it Hercules??

I love you so much??

please marry me you giant fucking dork???

lmao speaking of huge fucking dorks

who the fuck are you clowns. la dee da we’re gonna murder All Might with our synchronized spear attack!! I mean... they’re clearly trying their best... maybe I should just be nice and politely hype them up like All Might is so clearly trying to do

like okay, but we all agree that this is actually the least intimidating attack any of us has ever seen, right?? these guys zipped up their hoodies all serious-like and are trying to attack All Might and Hercules with their Walmart tiki torches, but just, no?? right?? like the only way this could possibly be effective is if they were trying to kill All Might with secondhand embarrassment

“those are assassins” this is a VERY generous assessment, All Might

OH MY GOD THE TIKI TORCHES ACTUALLY KILLED THE FUCK OUT OF HERCULES

[slaps roof of car] this baby can fit so many weaponized festive backyard lighting solutions in it

and yet, even after watching this with my own two eyes, I still can’t take these dudes seriously. idek what it is. anyways r.i.p. Hercules, I loved you a lot but I guess you weren’t actually a very good armored car were you

omg they didn’t know it was All Might??

okay 1) for a moment there I was like “oh hey maybe they’re not so bad after all” but then a moment later it was like “ah nope, they are.” like, that was an interesting .06 second emotional journey there. anyways 2) All Might you have my permission to kick their asses for this disrespect, and 3) anyone else all of a sudden getting “wouldn’t this be an interesting time for Stain to suddenly show up” vibes?? no?? just me???

(ETA: hmm tbh I’ve still got those vibes and they haven’t gone away lol. Stain?? you out there buddy?? do you want to be cool for just once in your life. ball’s in your court pal.)

OH SNAP ALL MIGHT ARE YOU REALLY GONNA DO IT ARE YOU GONNA KICK THEIR ASSES

PROTECTIVE DAD MODE ACTIVATED?? BECAUSE YOU KNOW I’M HERE FOR THAT SHIT, SO YEAH, FEEL FREE

omg he’s shouting at them about how much Deku has suffered lmao and they’re just like falling over from being scolded

so they have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about though, right? “SIR THIS IS A WENDY’S” well whatever, you killed his pet car so he’s in a bad mood now

OH MY GOD

LIKE, JUST SO WE’RE ALL CLEAR, THESE FOUR PAGES SO FAR HAVE MADE ALMOST ZERO SENSE. LIKE MAYBE 2% SENSE TOPS. BUT ASK ME IF I CARE. GO AHEAD AND ASK. I SAID GO AHEAD, IT’S OKAY. ...NO I DON’T CARE AT ALL THANK YOU FOR ASKING

(ETA: also, the more I look at this panel, the more I’m just like, why the hell would you phrase it like that though, sob. way to doubly tempt fate?? are you trying to give Horikoshi a challenge??)

and now back to Deku who is randomly bouncing around the city and narrating it to himself just in case he was confused about why he was doing this

who are you talking to Deku. but thanks we appreciate it

man you gotta love that overconfidence. the smartest guy in the world warned you away from this lady, so SURE, LET’S RUN RIGHT UP TO HER. “I APPRECIATE YOUR INPUT, FLASHBACK!HAWKS, BUT I’LL TAKE IT FROM HERE” well okay then!!

I think it would be funny if RHA.com put little Buzzfeed-style polls in between the chapter pages so they could survey people at random intervals as they read their way through the chapter. like, you finish this page and then there’s a little poll there asking “do you think Deku’s plan of catching up to Lady Nagant and finding out where Shigaraki is will work?”, and you click “no” just like everyone else and then nod as the results show that 97% of your fellow readers also picked “no”, and you chuckle to yourself wondering how many of the 3% accidentally clicked on the wrong option by mistake, and then you keep on reading

ANYWAY, SO

HOW’S THAT PLAN WORKING OUT FOR YOU SO FAR DEKU. nice kick, though!!

omggggggg

ouch

update: Deku’s plan not really working out. sources tell me my boy has been fucking shot. this is an ongoing story and we will keep you posted with the latest developments as they come in

wait what

feel free to explain to the rest of us what all of this “UNLESS...” and “THAT POSSIBILITY...” shit means anytime, Deku

oh lol did he realize she could fly??

BREAKING NEWS UPDATE, CNN’s John King reports that Deku is still fucked. eyewitness reports now coming in that Nagant is doing no-look shots and basically not even giving a fuck. sources described her mannerisms and expression as “sexy, but in like an effortless sort of way.” we will continue to bring you the latest

so now there’s basically an entire page of Deku being all “ah fuck so she’s basically closing in and she could already hit me with impossible accuracy even from Far Away, so if that’s the case then her being Up Close is probably going to be even worse!” making good use of that Big Hero Brain there, Deku

so now what, you’re doing some kind of spiraling kick thing?? how is that going to help

oh lol he’s using Smokescreen to create some cover. aww, good for you Deku you named one of your Smokescreen attacks

OH NO LADY DON’T TELL ME AFO DIDN’T EVEN FILL YOU IN ON THE BASICS

seriously, AFO?? you basically told her what Deku’s exact strategy was going to be but then couldn’t be assed to drop that little, small, barely notable piece of knowledge that Deku is rocking multiple quirks?? is it supposed to be a secret or something?? you dropped the ball here man

damn this is getting intense now

(ETA: the way En is poking Deku’s head in that first panel is fucking sending me, I love this guy so much omg.)

well then what are you planning, Deku?? I’m actually really curious!! I am genuinely starting to be invested in this fight scene not only in the “wanting to see who wins and how that impacts the plot” sense, but also in the “wanting to see how it happens because the choreography and strategy is actually pretty cool” sense, which honestly hasn’t happened for quite a while now! this is fun

anyway so what’s up Deku, are you going to use another quirk?? I’ve been speculating that he hasn’t actually unlocked the last two yet (since Two and Three didn’t exactly seem convinced when we last saw them), but maybe I’m about to be proven wrong

(ETA: well he clearly has Three’s obviously, but Two’s is still MIA, and that’s the one I am of course the most curious about. that’s the one we’re all curious about, let’s be real.)

OH SNAP???

AHHHH I’M HYPED LOL. ANOTHER SHINY NEW QUIRK LOL SHOULD I PUT UP THE USUAL DISCOURSE DISCLAIMER

(ETA: so yeah, after thinking on it, I’m not gonna say “please no Deku discourse on my blog” this week, but I probably will ignore any discourse that does come my way though, just because I don’t have much interest in getting involved in what would probably be a pretty repetitive discussion. like, I can just sum up my opinions (which is what they are) here instead. in fact here they are lol:

1) I like the SIXQUIRKS and I like seeing Deku be a badass.

2) I also don’t think Deku is too OP. more like he’s exactly as OP as he needs to be at the moment, given that we’re approaching the end of the series. I expect the other kids will also be pretty damn OP when we see them fight again. we’re just at that point now where they’re all badasses (as well they should be; they’ve grown a lot and they deserve it). it’s just that Deku’s the one we’re getting to see right now.

3) of course I miss Kacchan and the others, but for me this vibes much closer to the MVA arc where even though I missed them, I was still having a blast (as opposed to the dark days of the Basement arc where I was pretty much losing it lol). like, even though Kacchan’s my favorite, I still love Deku a lot and this arc has been amazing for him getting to shine on his own (for like the first time, really).

4) y’all know I love the OFA plot and I’ve never been shy about that lol. I like all of the Vestiges a lot. Banjou and his over the top personality; En and his “guy you thought would be serious and :| all the time but is actually hyper-animated and ALL OVER THE PLACE” energy; Shiro who actually is a :| sort of guy lol; Three who I still expect will be fleshed out in a more detailed flashback at some point; and of course Two, who, well. you know what I think about him lol. Bakuverse is still on the table and I’m still hyped. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we still have yet to see Two actually talk to Deku (as opposed to talking to the other Vestiges while Deku is distracted). did he lend him his power yet?? or is he still holding out?? either way it’s definitely going to be a Big Thing when it finally happens and I can’t wait to see it.

5) Lady Nagant is Everything and just because Deku grabbed her arm doesn’t mean the fight is over yet lol. Overhaul hasn’t come into play yet either. not to mention that even if the fight is over, the “where do we go from here” part still has me excited either way. her connection to Hawks and the HPSC is very intriguing and we’ve barely touched on that as of yet; she definitely has more of a role to play in this.

6) last but not least, I feel like every week the discussion is all about how much focus Deku’s getting, and how OP he is or isn’t, and OFA this and OFA that, but meanwhile I’m actually so invested in the character development here though?? the way Deku has distanced himself from everyone (except for the Vestiges, because of course they’re already dead so it’s not like they can die again lol)?? the way he’s pushing himself far too hard and we can see the shadows in and under his eyes, and the fact that he never smiles, and even All Might has remarked on how he isn’t taking care of himself at all?? the fact that he’s so single-mindedly obsessed with focused on stopping AFO?? the fact that he’s still the same sweet old Deku despite everything and was so kind to that fox lady with the umbrella, but there was also something so sad about that scene because it felt like a reminder of the type of hero that he wants to be, but that he’s not allowed to be right now?? because the stakes are too high and the world is falling apart?? and he feels like he’s the only one who can do something about it?? and that he has to be?? and that he is putting so much pressure on himself right now, and it’s absolutely too much pressure for any one person to bear, and I feel like no one is fucking talking about this lol goddammit.

anyway so yeah. I have feels about this, and every week that slow-burn angst is getting more and more intense behind the scenes, and I feel like it’s all going to hit a breaking point eventually. sooner rather than later. it really feels like a mirror of Katsuki’s post-Kamino arc. where all that angst was just churning below the surface for like twenty chapters and then it finally was like “okay it’s time” and it all came bursting out and we got the best five chapters of the fucking series (in my admittedly biased estimation lol).

basically, I know that most of fandom is billing this as either the “villain hunt” arc or the “solo Deku SIXQUIRKS fighting arc” or whatever. but for me, it’s always been and still is the Deku Angst arc lol. the cool fights are a sexy bonus (the worldbuilding less so because even though it’s interesting to see society at such a low point, it’s also very depressing and gets old pretty fast), but for me the thing that’s really keeping me engaged chapter after chapter is seeing Deku like we’ve never seen him before. seeing him all quiet and withdrawn and brooding and focused on AFO, AFO, AFO, and seeing that “he just doesn’t take himself into account” mentality taken to extremes. I am invested in that. I’m soaking up that angst each and every week, and I’m invested in seeing what comes of it. it’s a big picture thing. week to week this arc might just seem like a bunch of villain fight scenes, sure. but Deku’s emotional journey is the thread that’s going to carry this arc through from beginning to end, and for that I’m willing to be patient.

anyway that turned into a BIG OL’ RANT there but yeah! so those are my thoughts on the disk horse as it currently stands. and like I said, I’m open to discussion, but tbh I will probably just wind up repeating these same talking points endlessly so just a fair warning lol.)

anyway so Three says Deku has yet to use his quirk at ALL but now he’s trying to combine it with another quirk?? damn. also please check out En’s face here you guys

En launching a sneak attack up my favorite character list by the sheer power of his expressions alone. he really knows how to make the most of his screentime

OH DAMN DEKU

at this point the 3% from that hypothetical poll earlier are starting to feel prettttty damn smug, I’ll bet. well shit

what in the fuck

?? so like releasing his chi or whatnot?? isn’t that basically just like base OFA all over again?? also Deku did you seriously just apologize to Gran’s cape

update: Nagant has turned her eyeball into a gun

hm. hmmmmmmm. ...okay yep, still somehow sexy

anyway so she’s just floating up there building suspense, as one does. lord I sure hope she has good reflexes because something tells me she’s going to need them

OH SNAP HE THREW GRAN’S CAPE AS A DECOY WHAAAAT OKAY THAT’S SOME SMART SHIT DEKU

LOL SHE’S MAD NOW

JESUS CHRIST SHE JUST NEVER TAKES A GODDAMN BREAK FROM BEING AWESOME HUH

DEKU ARE YOU JUST THROWING EVERY DAMN THING IN YOUR INVENTORY

but without the cape and the hood how will you continue to look like an enigmatic badass. you really can’t. which means we might finally be moving on from the wandering nomad part of this arc, stay tuned

LOL YOU MANIAC

I hope he went full Kacchan with the dialogue there. his face sure looks like it lol. popped out of a building all mad fdskljlkj omg

well this was fun, shit. I still have basically no idea what Three’s quirk does though lol. like, can he use it to charge up objects with kinetic energy or something?? but then what was all of that talk about combining it with one of the other quirks?? or was that just because he was using Smokescreen at the same time??

(ETA: having seen and read an additional half-dozen explanations of Three’s quirk, I can say with confidence that I still have basically no idea what it is or does.)

anyway so!! Deku is a badasssssss but something tells me not to count Nagant out just yet even so. also I really enjoy seeing Deku flip out on people like he doesn’t have a fucking hole in his torso because it reminds me of A CERTAIN SOMEONE and I always love to see him channeling that feral energy; I feel like it’s been a while

anyways good luck to you both!! I truly wish that both of you could win. but if not, then maybe you can at least become friends instead. you have so much in common, you both can fly and have multiple quirks and you’re both badasses, and plus it would just be really funny to see the look on Hawks’s face lmao

#bnha 313 #midoriya izuku #lady nagant #bnha meta #deku meta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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joonie-beanie · 4 years

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The OM! Boys + their reaction to you walking into the room naked

My HC for this may be slightly different than the tiktok challenge (I assume that’s what you’re referring to), but hopefully you still enjoy!

(MC/Reader is GN)

Lucifer:

He doesn’t bother looking up when you step into his study--too absorbed in his current work. He needs to read through the proposal on his desk and have the signed papers to Diavolo by morning, and it’s already nearing midnight.

“Lucifer.”

“Hmm?” He doesn’t give you his attention, at first. He’s used to you coming to check on him when it gets late, pestering him about coming to bed and getting some much needed shut-eye. “I’ll join you shortly. I need to finish up here.”

“Lucifer,” you try again, tone a little annoyed. He pauses at that, not used to hearing you upset. He sets his pen down with a sigh--gloved hand combing through his dark hair.

“Yes, Y/N, what--,” his voice cuts off as his gaze finally finds you. You’re leaning against the doorframe to the room, arms hugged in front of you, and a playful look in your eyes.

There’s not a shred of clothing on your body.

Seeing that you have his attention, you don’t bother saying anything. Simply watch his reaction--loving the way his crimson eyes widen in shock.

However, it doesn’t take him long to recover. He presses to his feet, and steps around the wooden desk, a handsome grin on his lips.

As he approaches you, his demon form materializes without warning.

“You’re lucky that I could use a break,” he tells you, hooking a finger beneath your chin and forcing you to face him. There’s a sadistic glint in his gaze, one that has you swallowing the saliva pooling in your mouth.

“But don’t think I’ll be kind. As much as I’m thrilled to see you present yourself to me like this, next time, you need to be patient. Now--,” his wings flutter, and you gasp as he cages you against the door. His fingers curl around your throat.

“Prepare yourself.”

Mammon:

He’s in the middle of looking up “get rich quick” schemes on his DDD when you enter his room without knocking.

“Oh~” he greets lazily, not bothering to turn away from his current task. He knows it’s you, because you’d messaged him earlier, asking if he was free, and alone.

He had assumed that you just wanted to spend some one-on-one time with The Great Mammon, and who could blame you?

“Mammon,” you call, a purr to your voice that makes the Avatar of Greed pause. Turning away from his DDD, he looks over and sees you leaning over his pool table, with your palms pressed against the edge of the wooden surface.

You’re...stark naked.

He can’t see your ahem nether region thanks to the height of the table, but he can see the tops of your hips, and there’s a very clear lack of underwear.

“Wh--!” his hand flies to cover his mouth, a brilliant blush blooming on his face. “Where are your clothes?!”

You blink innocently. “I figured you might like this type of surprise. But if I’m wrong~”

You fake a disappointed sigh, turning and acting like you’re going to exit his room.

Immediately Mammon is on his feet and vaulting over the pool table (quite literally). His arms wrap around your torso, hugging you protectively back against his chest. You can already feel that he’s semi-hard as his pelvis rubs against your ass.

“I...of course I like it,” he mumbles, pressing a soft kiss to your neck. “Ya just surprised me, is all…”

You giggle, lifting a hand to pet through his hair. “Would you like me to stay, then?”

His arms wrap tighter around you, teeth nipping at the skin of your throat. “As if I would let ya go anywhere looking like this, silly human...you’re staying here tonight.”

Levi:

When you excuse yourself in the middle of the game the two of you are playing, saying something about needing the bathroom, Levi doesn’t think much of it.

His attention is solely on the screen of his computer, concentration through the roof as he completes the boss battle without your help (he really hadn’t needed your aid, anyway. He just loved spending time with you in person, and in game.)

Levi is in the middle of picking up all the rewards the boss had dropped following its defeat, so he doesn’t notice you return to the room.

“Levi.”

Blinking, the Avatar of Envy glances over his shoulder, hearing your voice behind him. The moment he catches sight of naked body, his brain short circuits.

With a surprised yelp, he instinctively swivels in his chair to face you, but his headphones catch--yanking his head back, and effectively making a mess of everything as the taut cord shoves an army of gingerly placed figurines from atop his desk.

Perhaps you should have waited for him to get his new wireless headphones from Akuzon before attempting this trend with him…

“Oh dear,” you sigh, an embarrassed blush spreading on your face as you survey the damage you’ve done. Levi is the same color as a tomato, his wide orange gaze shifting between your naked body, and the ceiling. Like if he stares at you too long, he’ll self-destruct.

“I’m sorry,” you say after a moment, sighing. “I thought surprising you might have been fun, but…”

Your voice trails off, a shiver raking up your spine as you feel something slick curl around your ankle. When you look down, you note it’s Levi’s tail. His demon form has materialized without you realizing.

“No, i-it’s fine…,” you see him swallow harshly, his tail continuing to wind up your leg. He tugs you forward, closer to him. His hands hover near your waist, his eyes soaking in the sight of you. You can see a tent beginning to form in his pants. “Can I touch you?”

You nod, and in the next beat, he’s all over you.

Satan:

Per usual, he’s engrossed in a novel, so he doesn’t notice your disappearance behind a particularly large stack of books. Nor does he hear the sound of you shedding your clothes.

Thankfully, he can’t miss the sound of his name falling from your lips.

“Satan.”

He turns his gaze away from the book, pausing when he sees you standing a few feet in front of him, completely nude.

His eyebrows raise high on his forehead, grin tugging at his lips. Silently, he moves to place the book face-down on the arm of the chair.

His obvious satisfaction at your surprise has you unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“Like what you see?”

“You could say that.”

He presses to his feet and makes his way towards you--emerald eyes soaking in every inch of your revealed skin. When he finally reaches your side, his hands immediately reach out to grip your waist. His fingers give you a gentle squeeze.

“Is there some special occasion I should know about?” he asks, chuckling. You shake your head, reaching up to cup his face. His smile widens at the action, gaze falling to your lips.

“No occasion. I just wanted to see how you would react.”

“And is my reaction what you were hoping for?”

You lean in, connecting your lips with his. “Mhm~”

The two of you share a few kisses, before Satan is backing you into one of the many bookshelves, his knee slotting between your legs.

He leans in, mouth hot against your ear.

“Getting the full experience of my reaction may take a few hours, just so you know.”

Asmo:

The Avatar of Lust has never heard of the human world challenge, same as his brothers, but he’s always more than open to seeing you naked, that’s for sure!

So, when you excuse yourself in the middle of your study-session--returning a minute later, and calling out his name so playfully--he’s thrilled at what he finds.

“Ooo~! Look at you!” He starts fanning himself, leaning back in his chair as he regards you with rapt attention. His honey colored eyes drag from the top of your head, all the way down to your feet, and back again.

“Will you turn for me?” He asks, biting his lip. You’re tempted to roll your eyes, but do as he asks--slowly rotating yourself so he’s able to see every inch of your nude skin.

“Gosh, you should absolutely do this more often.” There’s a slight groan to his voice, a show of his satisfaction at your bold present.

“If I did, I have the feeling I’d never leave your room,” you respond with a laugh. Asmo jumps to his feet, making his way to your side. His fingertips roam over the skin of your arms, and he leans in to kiss you.

“Did you want to continue our study-session like this, or should I clear the bed?”

You smile against him. “I’ll leave that up to you.”

Asmo giggles, and before you know it, he has detached himself from you. He works quickly to clear his mattress of any notebooks, and loose papers.

“Shame on you for tempting me like this, when I’ve got a test coming up soon,” he scolds you, but there’s no real anger in his voice. Once the bed has been cleared, Asmo crawls atop the plush sheets and settles on his side, staring at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

He beckons you with a roll of his finger. “Come here, darling.”

And you’d be a fool to disobey the Avatar of Lust’s command.

Beel:

He has invited you over to watch his favorite cooking show, but you’d left during the commercial break to go and grab some snacks (the ones he had already prepared long gone--filling his stomach).

It only takes you a few minutes to return, but since the program has started up again on the TV screen, Beel doesn’t bother looking up at the sound of the door opening.

“Y/N, hurry, they’re finishing up the dish,” he says, mouth practically watering. You silently make your way to his bed, dropping the snacks beside him. He mindlessly reaches for a bag of chips, attention still on the TV.

“Beel,” you finally speak. For the first time since your return, his purple eyes shift to look at you.

What he finds has the chip between his lips falling onto the sheets--his newly opened snack forgotten about. His adam’s apple bobs against his throat as he swallows, and you squeal in surprise as he suddenly reaches out--dragging you into him.

You end up straddling his lap, one of his large hands gripping your waist, while the other moves to cradle the back of your head.

Just like that, his favorite program is forgotten about.

“Itadakimasu,” he grumbles, mouth connecting with your shoulder.

He doesn’t question your lack of clothing--doesn’t need to know the reasoning for your current actions.

All he knows is that you taste better than his snacks, and are more entertaining than the cooking program.

Besides, he can catch the rerun later.

Belphie:

You decide to surprise him while attempting to wake him up from a nap.

After entering his room, you carefully shed your clothes, and then approach the side of his bed. He’s thoroughly snuggled beneath the covers, just his eyes, and messy hair peeking out from beneath the piles of blankets.

“Belphie,” you call out quietly, shaking his shoulder.

He groans, pulling away from your hand. His eyes don’t open, his groggy brain not ready to be awake yet.

“5 more minutes.”

You breathe a laugh, posing a hand on your hip. “Belphie, look at me.”

Despite not wanting to be awake, the Avatar of Sloth begrudgingly cracks his eyes open. His gaze falls on you, and you can see his eyes widen ever so slightly--the cogs in his brain beginning to move.

He stares at you for a few long seconds, eyes trailing the length of your naked body.

“Hehe~,” he extends his arms, the covers folding down as he reaches out and makes a grabbing motion at you, revealing the grin on his face.

You laugh, but nonetheless step forward into his waiting hands. Immediately he’s tugging you onto the bed beside him.

“Can you start waking me up like this from now on?” he asks, folding your head beneath his chin. His fingertips roam across back, settling near your waist.

“I have a feeling that if I do, we won’t ever actually get out of bed.”

He chuckles at your words, mouth moving to your ear. His teeth tug at your earlobe, and you can’t help but shiver.

“Hopefully that’s not an issue, because I don’t plan on letting you go now that you’re here.”

Solomon:

Despite being a magically inclined human, Solomon is a human nonetheless, so he’s aware of the tiktok challenge.

However, he never actually expects anyone to do it to him.

You’re chilling in his room at Purgatory Hall when he excuses himself to go and fetch a beverage. When he returns, he finds you right where you had been when he’d left--lounging atop his bed, on your stomach--but all of your clothes have disappeared.

For a half second, he wonders if he’d forgotten about a spell he’d cast on you as a prank. However, judging by the teasing grin on your face, and the glint in your eyes, your clothes have disappeared of your own volition.

Then, he remembers the tiktok trend.

“My apologies for not rushing to jump your bones like many of the men do in those videos.”

He walks over and calmly places the coffee mug in his hand on the nightstand. The bed dips a moment later as he moves to join you on the mattress.

However, rather than settle down beside you, he grips your shoulder and rolls you onto your back. Solomon then leans over you, caging you in as he lowers himself just inches from your face.

“While I may not have reacted like you expected, I’m more than happy to give you the same outcome.”

You grin up at him. “Which is?”

He smiles mischievously, his fingertips moving to dance across your ribs. You can feel magic buzzing on his skin.

“I think you know.”

Simeon:

Nothing can prepare Simeon for the moment he swivels around at his desk--his name falling from your lips, and beckoning his attention.

You’re over for a study date, and had excused yourself to the restroom for a moment.

“Yes, Y/N--?” his voice catches when he spots you there--standing in the doorway to his bathroom in all of your glory.

The Angel’s heart feels like it may beat straight out of his chest, his mind momentarily blue-screening as he stares at you.

“Wow,” he eventually breathes, raising a gloved hand to cover his blushing face. Despite obviously being flustered, his gaze still roams across you--only his mouth and cheeks hidden from view.

“Despite being a celestial, you’re truly the angel among the two of us.”

That gets you blushing, your arms hugging at your sides. Seeing you turn pink at his words has Simeon feeling a bit bolder, and he presses to his feet, moving to join you.

His arms wrap around you, pulling you into a tight hug, and he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re so beautiful.”

“No you,” you mumble in response, pouting up at him, and wondering how he’d managed to turn the tables on you so easily. Simeon only laughs, leaning in to connect your lips.

“Thank you...shall we move to the bed?”

Oh.

“Yes, please.”

Diavolo:

Diavolo had been informed by Barbatos at the end of the student council meeting that you were waiting in his office for him.

Without a second thought, he had left to find you--assuming you wanted to talk about sometime in private with him. Which, honestly, he didn’t mind in the least, considering you were always good company.

However, the last thing he expects to find when he steps into his office is you, sitting behind his desk, in his oversized leather chair...completely nude.

You fold your hands onto the wood, smiling at him.

“Good evening.”

There’s a playful glint in your eye, one that has Diavolo’s initial shock wearing off quickly--replaced with amused interest instead.

Closing the door behind him, the Demon Prince slowly makes his way around the desk.

“Is there something you need to tell me about?”

“Oh, no, I just wanted to surprise you,” you giggle, gasping when Diavolo suddenly reaches out and secures your waist.

He lifts you out of the black chair, seating you on his desk, and stepping between your spread legs. A blush dusts your cheeks, eyes widening as his grip slides down to your hips--his handsome face just inches from yours.

“Well, I certainly enjoy this type of surprise.” Diavolo grips your chin with his fingers, and guides you into a soft kiss.

“Perhaps you should surprise me like this after school hours more often.”

Barbatos:

While staying the weekend at the Demon Lord’s Castle, you volunteer to get up early and help the royal butler prepare breakfast. It’s a large job, considering the brothers, and other exchange students are staying over as well.

“Good morning, Barbatos,” you greet, stepping into the spacious kitchen. The butler, standing in front of the stove, takes a moment before turning to address you.

“Good morn--,” he begins, but pauses when he sees your state of dress. Or, rather, undress, considering you’re wearing absolutely nothing.

A light blush dusts his cheeks, and he coughs to clear his throat.

“Have you misplaced your clothing? It’s not wise to cook in such a state.”

“I just wanted to see your reaction,” you respond with a laugh, stepping further into the room. He notices that your clothes are bundled in your arms.

“Well, perhaps it is a good way to start the day off,” he comments, smiling as his eyes roam over your figure.

Then, he’s moving away, walking to the edge of the kitchen to retrieve something you can’t quite see. When he returns to your side, you note that he’s holding a plain, white apron.

“I hardly mind such a sight to accompany the breakfast preparation, but I’d prefer if you not injure yourself.”

He slides the neck of the apron over your head, and then moves to your back--tightly securing the ties. You shiver when his gloved hand traces the length of your spine.

He smiles charmingly at the reaction.

“Shall we get to work?”

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egcdeath · 3 years

Text

checkmate

summary: you’ve always refused to lose, and love was no exception. (gone girl-ish au)

pairing(s): ransom drysdale x dark!reader, a special mystery guest ;)

word count: 3.7k

warnings: 18+ because of heavy themes! faked death, framing of crimes, manipulation, alluding to sex, alluding to cheating, terrible relationship dynamic, very loose usage of the word crazy/psychotic, implied mention of self harm, brief choking & slapping (in a non sexual way lol), pregnancy trapping (idk if thats the right term), the reader is a very bad human being, overuse of italics *please let me know if i’m missing any warnings!

author’s note: this is my 2nd submission for @stargazingfangirl18’s 5k soft dark challenge, i decided to make the reader dark >:) but ransom is also not a good person. I used these prompts: “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.” & The town golden *girl isn’t as sweet as everyone thinks.

this is definitely the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, but blame @literate-lamb for making me write this because when i pitched this to her and said that i’d probably never write it, she enabled me.

okay that's enough from me. join my taglist if you want :D

“I know women whose entire personas are woven from a benign mediocrity. Their lives are a list of shortcomings: the unappreciative boyfriend, the extra ten pounds, the dismissive boss, the conniving sister, the straying husband. I've always hovered above their stories, nodding in sympathy and thinking how foolish they are, these women, to let these things happen, how undisciplined. And now to be one of them! One of the women with the endless stories that make people nod sympathetically and think: Poor dumb bitch.” Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl

Your whole life, you’d considered yourself a competitive person. Constantly overcompensating for one thing or another, whether it was the chronic desire to achieve perfection that had been installed in you since you were a little girl, or your persistent internalized sense of inadequacy. You realized early on that it was much better for you to win than for you to lose, no matter the physical, emotional, or mental cost of the prize of perfection.

For the most part, this mindset worked out for you. You graduated as Valedictorian from your high school, neared the top of your graduating class at Harvard. God knew you earned it, all those tears you shed into overpriced textbooks, all the popping of unprescribed Adderall, and robbing yourself of the parties and social events that the rest of your peers gladly indulged in.

You were just different, which was why you gained a job nearly immediately after your exit from school, quickly climbing to the top at the Blood Like Wine publishing company after only a few years of being there.

And one night, at the party celebrating the release of A Thousand Knives when you laid your eyes on Hugh Ransom Drysdale, the grandson of your boss, you knew that you needed to have him. Rich, hot, a bit of an asshole. You deserved to finally complete your image, and that socialite flavored eye candy seemed to fit the part perfectly. Luckily for you, he was desperate. It only took a few tugs on your dress’ V-line, and a number of knowing smirks to find yourself being finger-banged in his family manor’s bathroom.

From there, you wormed your way into his life. Leaving belongings at his place as an excuse to come back, and offering booty calls in the middle of the night. Ransom must’ve been much more desperate than you originally thought, as it really only seemed to take one night of stroking his hair while he vented about his family to make him want to be with you. Men with mommy issues were always so easy.

Except, he wasn’t that easy. The longer you got to know Ransom, the more fucked up you realized he really was. He had no boundaries at all, became jealous and enraged at the drop of a pin, and occasionally told you things that made the hairs on your arms rise.

This of course all came to a head after the night of Harlan’s 85th birthday party. When the news broke of his tragic death, you’d immediately known it was the works of your Hugh. If your intuition wasn’t enough, his confession in the shower, where he’d demanded you take off your clothes to display that you were without a bug, certainly was.

You were completely devastated. The man that you’d invested so much into for years had thrown both his and your reputations down the drain in just a matter of hours. Of course, you felt bad for Harlan too. He was a good guy (when he wasn’t instigating a family fight).

Still, you showed up during the funeral in your best mourning clothes and dawning your biggest crocodile tears. You rubbed Linda’s back while she mourned the loss of her father, and the new truth about her husband. You played dumb when interrogated by some Southern private investigator, even giving Ransom an airtight alibi. You testified on his behalf in court with enough conviction to grant you an Emmy.

You’d gotten so far, devoted so much energy into him, that you simply refused to lose now.

To your friends, you’d seemed to lead a near perfect life. Dream job, dreamy boyfriend, dream bank account, but it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you just didn’t know what.

It dawned on you while sipping mimosas at the country club, Ransom playing tennis with his friends just a few yards away from you while Danielle showed off her brand new engagement ring, a .59 Carat Asscher Diamond, that if you heard her speak of again, would probably make you lose your shit.

You zoned out as she droned on and on about the shape, and how Matt proposed to her in their own private room in one of the most exclusive Parisian restaurants, instead focusing on how you could find yourself in the same position as that airhead next to you. In all honesty, you couldn’t stand the idea that someone was doing better than you, let alone someone in your own social circle. Dani got all the bragging rights of being engaged to the heir of some tech giant, being the first in your friend group to get eloped, and worst of all, Matt wasn’t even making her sign a prenup.

You blankly watched Ransom from afar, taking occasional sips from your sweet drink, while you thought of how you deserved all of that and more, and you were going to get it one way or another.

——

It didn’t take much to come up with something, your first and most obvious plan being to simply ask Ransom when he was going to propose to you. Of course, this wasn’t the first time you’d tried to approach him about this subject, you just wondered if maybe this time things would be different.

Panting heavily after a rather rough night in bed, you rolled off of your boyfriend’s chest and gave him a messy, yet sincere kiss. You knew your man well, and if there was any time to pop the question, it was in his post-nut haze.

“Baby,” you said breathily, “I wanna ask you something.”

“Shoot,” he responded casually, glancing over at you.

“When’re you gonna propose to me?” you hummed.

Ransom groaned and shook his head, rolling his eyes, “this is about Matt and Dani, huh?” he tutted, then extended a hand out to your warm cheeks so he could gently caress one with his thumb. “Thought we agreed marriage is just a piece of paper and it’s stupid.”

You huffed in response.

Of fucking course.

“I never said that,” you muttered, setting a hand on his broad chest. “Besides, it’ll be good if you get pissed and decide to like, kill your dad or something. Y’know, spouses don’t have to testify against each other in court.”

Ransom chuckled as if this whole thing was funny, like your feelings were some kind of sick joke to him. “You know my lawyers, babe. They could prove that bees don’t make honey. That bears don’t shit in the forest. I appreciate your attempt, though. This has been some really nice pillow talk.”

“Whatever,” you muttered, pinching his nipple in retaliation before turning your back to him and yanking the blanket onto your side.

You weren’t sure why you were so surprised that he was being stubborn, most of the time you felt like you were pulling teeth from the man. But that’s why you had a backup plan! You always had a backup plan. That’s what separated you from your boyfriend. Where Ransom was extemporized and impulsive, you were calculating and prudent.

Although you devised your plan that very afternoon while watching your partner backhand small green balls, you were going to need some time to get everything in order, to prove Murphy and his stupid law wrong in making sure that everything that could go wrong wouldn’t.

After all, love was a game. And you sure as hell weren’t losing to Hugh Drysdale.

——

You sacrificed too much to have your plans ruined by some trust fund baby with impulsivity issues. You deserved your dream marriage, the stability you wished you had as a child. You wanted the white picket fence, and everything that came along with it. Your desire to be the best, to be perfect was what drove you to poke holes in every condom in the box, what led you to draw liters of your own blood in hopes of staging a fake crime scene, to buy a cheap getaway car and burner phone off of Craigslist, and reach out to a high school boyfriend who you knew was in a position as desperate as you.

You planted seeds of doubt in your friends throughout the following weeks, feeding them lies about Ransom’s behavior, how you were afraid of telling him that you did in fact see two faint red lines on that damn plastic stick– only half of the statement truly being false–, telling them that he was behaving erratically lately.

It all was going without a hitch. Ransom didn’t seem to notice anything was off, despite your frequent visits to the bathroom and newfound affinity for true crime documentaries.

You almost felt guilty, knowing the world of pain you were about to throw the man into. Granted, he deserved the pain. You were in a relationship with a genuinely terrible person, and that person had made a conscious effort not to commit to you. You tried to make this easy for him, give him a chance to say a few words to you and slide a ring on your finger, but no, he always seemed to take the hard route.

You slept like a baby the night before you were setting your plan in action. You made sure to uphold the facade of everything being fine, making Ransom a nice breakfast before sending him halfway across town to the hardware store with an oddly incriminating list.

Once he was out of the house, you hurried off to the fridge in the garage where you’d been keeping a small stash of your own blood. It wasn’t pretty, but it had to be done. You poured the blood throughout the kitchen, splattering bits of it on the counters and cupboards. You poorly cleaned the mess, just as he would.

You put your next move in motion, falsifying a home invasion. You tossed over a table and some chairs, throwing books and photos onto the floor, but left some aspects slightly untouched, like an upright picture frame to give yet another hint that things were not exactly what they appeared.

You left a tiny blue post-it note on the nightstand of Ransom’s side of the bed, a quick and simple doodle of a ring along with the first initial of your name inked onto the tiny piece of paper.

With that, you were off. Technically missing, soon-to-be presumed dead.

----

The days following your disappearance had gone even better than you’d initially planned. Local news coverage had been all over you, search and rescue groups were assiduously looking for you, your parents had opened a tip line, and begged for you to get home safe on news segments. But the best part of it all was that Ransom had been briefly found himself in police custody, only to be released shortly thereafter. His past of an accused murder quickly made your disappearance even more of a national story, and you watched the whole thing unravel from the safety and comfort of your high school boyfriend, Andy Barber’s Newton home.

Of course, you fed him the same lies you’d given to your friends, and seeing the rather lonely position he was in, he gladly let you stay with him. You were absolutely having a hay-day with it all, dedicating hours of your day to watching Ransom slowly unravel. Maybe it was a bit sadistic of you to enjoy torturing your partner so much, but he needed to learn his lesson. You deserved better. You needed Ransom to rise up to your level, allowing you to finally complete your image. To let you two appear to be the perfect couple. Really, this was all on him.

Andy, for the most part, had been a good host. He was gone for the majority of the day, dedicating himself to his work while you lounged around on his dangerously cozy couch. Around two weeks into your stay, you were sharing a box of pizza in the living room with your old lover when something interesting on the television caught your eye.

Ransom, broadcasted on CBS, being interviewed on your disappearance.

You watched with wide eyes as Ransom begged for your return on national television. It was one thing seeing your mother plead for you to come back, the same woman who had installed such toxic behavior in you sob for your return, but Ransom. You’d never loved him more than in that moment.

“Hugh, if you could tell Y/N one thing, what would it be?” the interviewer asked.

Ransom turned, looking straight at the camera, directly into your soul, “Y/N, I love you so much. More than you’ll ever know. I need you to come back safely, to see you, to hold you again. I’d give anything in the world for that right now,” he looked down, a tear falling down his cheek. “I can’t live without you in my life, I-”

His sentence was cut off by Andy grabbing the remote, and turning off the TV. You turned your head and frowned deeply at him.

“Why’d you do that?” you asked with a bit of a pout.

“I just couldn’t stand listening to him talk about you like he hasn’t treated you like shit for the past few years. C’mon, let’s get ready for bed.”

Your blood boiled. Andy was once a means to an end, but now he was interfering. He was clearly much too selfish to see that you and Ransom were quite obviously soulmates. A match made in hell.

You followed him to bed regardless, curling up on what had been your side of the bed for the past few days, and staring at the wall until Andy’s breaths moved from a soft and rhythmic pattern to loud snores. God, those snores were obnoxious.

You slipped out of bed and to his dresser, grabbing two soft ties from the drawer, and daintily tying his wrists to each side of the bedpost.

“What‘re you doing?” he mumbled, instinctively yanking both of his wrists as he awoke.

“I’m going back home,” you whispered.

“You can’t be serious,” Andy huffed, tugging on the restraint attached to the headboard.

You shook your head, “I am.”

“I should’ve known. Why would you do something like this? Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in with the law?”

“Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in when the world finds out that you kidnapped me?” you retorted.

This threat seemed to wake him up right away, “what about this was kidnapping? I gave you a nice home, fed you, I didn’t even make a pass at you. I didn’t do shit to you,” he hissed. “You think I can’t prove that? I’m a lawyer, for god's sake!”

You nearly laughed, “Okay, Andy,” you paused for a moment, “As a lawyer, who do you think everyone’ll believe? Someone who the world was on a wild goose chase for in the last two weeks? Or the man with a family history of violence? Must I remind you that your father and your son have killed people?”

Andy shook his head, face pinched in sorrow at the mention of his deceased son, clearly a low blow. “You’re insane,” he muttered.

“Swear to god that you won’t tell a soul what happened here,” you leaned over him, getting right in his face. “Or I promise, Andrew Barber, I will ruin you. You’ll spend the rest of your life behind bars, or disbarred, or whatever the hell I decide to do with you. So keep your goddamn lips shut.”

You pulled away and he solemnly nodded, not bothering to put up a fight. You loosened the fabric around his left wrist and walked out of the room. You picked up the keys to Andy’s Audi on your way out, checking the time as you adjusted the driver's seat.

9:45 PM. Fatherhood really changed the man.

You pushed that thought aside and began your drive home, which turned out to be a surprisingly short trip. When you pulled up in front of your home, you were met with a slew of reporters outside of the house, along with a police car that seemed to be permanently camped there.

As you slowly got out of the car, a gasp, followed by a loud silence fell across the crowd. You limped for dramatic effect up the driveway as cameras followed you, and glanced back at them pathetically. From your peripheral view, you noticed the officers get out of their vehicle.

You finally got to your door, ringing the doorbell and waiting. You blinked harshly a few times, conjuring up the tears you needed to really make a spectacle of the event. After a few minutes, Ransom opened the door, eyes widening as he looked at you. He stepped out, and you wrapped him in as big of a hug as you could manage, genuinely missing his embrace. It was possible that you even let out a few real tears in the moment.

Your emotional embrace was interrupted by the man you recognized as Lieutenant Elliott, the same officer who’d been assigned to Harlan’s case.

“Ma’am,” he began, only to be shut down by you.

“Please, just let me be with my boyfriend,” you pleaded, crocodile tears streaming down your face as you spoke with the officer. You still needed time to get your story straight.

“Just give us the night, Lieutenant. We’ll come in first thing tomorrow morning,” Ransom added, furrowing his brows at the officer that he’d come into contact with far too many times.

He looked to his partner, who shrugged, then to you, “enjoy your night.”

Cameras flashed around you as civilians, journalists, and newscasters alike attempted to catch your attention. You grabbed Ransom’s hand and dramatically pulled him inside, insincerely attempting to hide your face by ducking and covering half of your face with your arm.

As soon as you were in the privacy of your own home, Ransom threw you against a wall.

“Why. The fuck. Would you pull a stunt like that,” he hissed through gritted teeth, eyes wild, and a hand around your throat.

You whimpered as he tightened his grip, rage clearly flowing through his system uncontrollably.

“Do you know what you did to me? You almost had me thrown in fucking jail. Do you understand that?”

You nodded weakly, “Ran,” you whispered, “the baby,” you glanced down at your stomach.

He paused, dropping his grip on your neck and staring at you in awe, “no…”

You nodded again.

“How…? You told me you were on the pill… You- you made me use protection…”

“Surprise?” you said weakly.

“You’re a psychotic bitch.”

“I’m your psychotic bitch. And no child of mine will be born out of wedlock,” you taunted.

“That’s what this is about?” Ransom laughed manically. “You did this all because I won’t fucking marry you?”

You didn’t even have to respond.

“I should send you to the loony bin right fucking now.”

“What happened to all those things you said to me on TV?”

“You’re fucking delusional. I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. And you will. I’ve had to put up with you and your stupid little antics for way too long. How do you think I felt when you killed your own grandfather?”

Ransom scoffed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “you are so fucked up.”

“I’m the fucked up one? You killed your own blood in cold blood! You’re unhinged!”

“You faked your own death for attention, and got pregnant while doing it! Is that baby even mine?”

“The fuck are you trying to say, Hugh?”

“I asked if it’s even mine.”

“Really. You’re accusing me of cheating on you. That’s rich considering Mia, Layla, and whoever the fuck else. You’re being ridiculous.”

“I’m being ridiculous? You couldn’t have a normal adult conversation with me!”

“Are you kidding me? I asked you time after time to marry me and it was always some bullshit excuse!” you wagged a finger in his face as you spoke. “Oh, commitment scares me, oh, marriage is just a piece of paper, oh-“ you mocked his voice in a deeper tone before you were cut off by the sting of his hand against your cheek.

“Can you shut the hell up?” he growled at you as you held your own cheek, before you reached out and slapped him back, “I can’t believe that I’m stuck with such a deranged bitch for the rest of my life.”

“Maybe work on your vows a little, dear. I don’t think that those words are as charming to me as they’d be to the rest of our family and friends.”

“You can’t be serious,” he groaned.

“But I am,” you hummed, rubbing your cheek softly once again. “Look at how fast your life fell apart without me here. How quickly the public turned on you. Imagine how upset they’d be if you left me. I love you, Ran. I really do. You and I are perfect for each other, can’t you see that now?”

Ransom took a step away from you, pacing slowly in front of you. He ran a stressed hand through his hair, and took a long and drawn out breath, clearly at a loss for words.

“So when should we have the wedding? I’ve always wanted a Spring wedding, and I know it’s a little short notice, but I don’t want to be showing too much in my wedding dress,” you grabbed Ransom’s bicep gently, as if you were just having a regular old day with him, as if you hadn’t been choked and slapped moments ago. “But we can make it work. We always make it work, right?”

Your now fiancé stared vacantly at the wall ahead of him, giving you a slow, empty nod of agreement.

“It’s settled then,” you smirked. “I’ll start looking at venues. You find me a nice ring, okay Honey? One that puts all those other bitches’ rings to shame,” you sighed pleasantly to yourself, “I’ve waited a long time for this, sweetheart.”

You pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before hurrying up the stairs and into your bedroom. You heard a distant shriek of “fuck,” from Ransom, but you truly could not care less.

You hopped into bed, grabbing your laptop from its charger and promptly opening it. You couldn’t help but to smile at your own reflection on the empty black screen. This wasn’t how you imagined your engagement, but you did the impossible. You tied yourself down to Hugh Ransom Drysdale, he went down kicking in screaming, and you were likely in for a lifetime of cheating and resentment, but you did it nonetheless.

You finally won.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #dark!reader #ransom drysdale x dark!reader #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom thrombey x you #knives out #knives out fanfic #siris5ksoftdarkchallenge

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