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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

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TO LOVE AND BE LOVED - Part One (Harry Styles)

a/n: oh my god i am sooo thankful for the love the masterlist got with just so little info about the story! it means so much to me and i really hope i won’t disappoint you with this story! i was planning to post the first part on tuesday but i got excited bc of all the feedback and reactions and decided to start earlier, so here it is, part one of TLABL, a story im kind of proud of and very happy to share! please drop by my ask box or leave your thoughts on the story, i would love to hear everything from you guys!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce

word count: 11.2k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

“I hope you realize this holds nothing against you, we all love and appreciate you and your work, but we had to face some unexpected problems this past year.”

You sit in front of Claire, your boss completely dumbfounded, not even comprehending what she is saying completely. You came to work this morning absolutely oblivious that today is going to be your last day of work at the daycare you’ve been working at for over two years now.

“I’m sorry, but last time you let us in on the budget you didn’t bring up any complication that might have indicated someone could lose their job, so what possible problem could have come up so abruptly?” you ask with a shocked and nervous chuckle. Part of you kind of hopes this is just some stupid joke she is playing on you, but Claire is not one to make games out of such serious things. Letting out a tired sigh she pushes her reading glasses up to the top of her head into her carefully curled hair.

“Look, I’m really trying not to make a big deal out of it, but we had to make some cuts on the budget. The kitchen and gymnasium renovation was completely unplanned and it kicked us in the butt. We are making some changes about the groups this year and it was made that it can be solved with one less person on the team. I’m sorry it had to be you, but the decision had to be made.”

“But why me?” you press. “There are two people who have been working for a shorter period of time here, didn’t I earn your trust during my time here?”

“It’s not about that, Y/N,” Claire shakes her head.

“Then what is this about?”

“If you are so keen on knowing, we’ve… received a few… complaints.” Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline, this is the first time you’re hearing about it.

“Complaints?”

“Yes. Some parents are not quite the fan of the kind of mentality you are using while teaching the kids.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, feeling all the blood rushing out of your face. This is starting to get way too nasty. Claire pinches the bridge of her nose before leaning onto her desk, clasping her hands together.

“I know that you are quite the free spirit and want to teach the kids about openness and acceptance, but not everyone is as rainbow as you are. Some kids brought the word home about what kind of books you’ve been reading and we’ve gotten a few concerns about you basically promoting the LGBTQ community for the kids.”

“I’m not promoting, I’m trying to teach them to accept everyone just the way they are, how can that upset anyone?!”

“Well, it does. The committee had to make a decision on who we should let go and many agreed that it might be the safest decision to make it be… you.”

You’re about to faint. You are sure you are about to fall off this chair and just black out. How can someone get mad about you reading stories about acceptance and treating everyone equally? What kind of monster can see it as a bad thing? And now you are losing your job over such a stupid thing that you don’t even feel responsible for.

Though you’d love to stay and try to convince Claire to not let you go, you know the decision has been made and if you’re being honest, you don’t feel comfortable anymore working at a place where parents tell you off for teaching important values for their kids. Sadly, but you sign all paperwork about your immediate parting and you leave Claire’s office to pack your stuff.

“Miss Y/N! Miss Y/N!” Izzy, one of the sweetest girls in your group basically launches herself at you, smashing against your legs as she hugs you happily. “Do you want to see what I just painted?” She blinks up at you with her gorgeous green eyes and your heart breaks that you won’t get to see her again.

“Oh, Sweetie. I have to—you know what? Sure. Show me your painting,” you smile at her warmly. You can’t say no to her, not when this is the last time you get to see her.

As you’re cleaning out your locker in the break room, Heather walks in and stops in her tracks, seeing you with your gloomy face as you pack everything into a cardboard box.

“What the hell are you doing?” she questions right away. The two of you have known each other for years now, you did the same master’s programme and somehow ended up working here together, carrying on the friendship you’ve formed through your school years.

“I was… fired,” you sigh, wincing at the words.

“What?! Why?”

“Apparently, we are having some budget problems with all the renovations that was made recently and unbeknownst to me, some parents have been complaining about my openness with kids so I was the lucky one to part ways with.”

“That’s fucking bullshit! The kids adore you, how can someone complain about something like that?”

“Don’t know, ask them if you ever find out who they are,” you mumble under your breath as you shut the now empty locker closed. “I’m sorry we can’t carpool anymore,” you pout at her.

“No fucks given about that, what are you gonna do now?” she asks, seemingly very bummed at the news that you won’t be working at the same place now.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I guess I’ll have to find something new if I don’t want to end up on the streets,” you mumble.

“Oh girl, I’m so sorry,” Heather sighs pulling you into a hug. “Why don’t we go out for drinks on Friday? Everything is on me!”

“Don’t act like I’m already broke, makes me feel like a loser.”

“Sorry,” she scowls. “Just want to brighten you up a little. Meet me at seven at that Mexican place, how does that sound?”

“Stuffing my face with nachos and tequila? Sounds like the best plan I could wish for.”

You waste no time arriving home after your worst day at work. You jump right into the job ads, looking for basically anything that might help you out of this impossible situation. Sending your resume to as many places as possible, you get a few callbacks the next few days, but you only make it to one interview on Friday and that doesn’t go well either. The man who calls in for an open position at a private kindergarten turns out to be a total snob and he doesn’t find your free spirit too fitting with the profile of his institution so you get rejected at the end of the interview.

You head out to meet Heather feeling like shit. You’ve been unemployed for four days, but it’s already breaking your spirits.

“You know what? Clair is a bitch for giving in to the complaints,” Heather slams her fourth shot glass on the table with a grimace. “She should have defended you!”

“I’m sure she just didn’t want to get into any disagreement. Some of the parents donate great amounts to the school and Claire would never risk losing that money,” you sigh rolling your eyes.

“Okay, but she is being very… not inclusive,” she narrows her eyes. “Firing someone for teaching the kids openness? Bullshit.”

“I’m just sad I don’t get to see the kids anymore. They really grew close to my heart.”

“The little fuckers can be so damn cute, almost make me want to have one.” Heather sighs, downing another shot before pulling the nachos closer to her. You laugh at her vulgar reaction, she has always had quite a dirty mouth but somehow she controls herself well around the kids. “How has the job hunting been?”

“Horrible,” you growl in frustration. There are not many that offer a good paycheck and the few that does are these posh places that expect you to treat the kids like they are made out of gold which is ridiculous. That’s not how you raise a kid!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sure something will come up soon. Why don’t you look into nanny jobs, have you thought about that?”

“What do you mean?” you furrow your eyebrows, popping some chips into your mouth.

“A lot of people prefer having nannies for their little children, some even want them to move in. My brother’s ex-girlfriend was a live-in nanny for about two years and she earned a shit ton of money, because she didn’t have to pay rent and a good chunk of the food, because the parents just treated her like part of the family and bought groceries for five people instead of four.”

“I’m not sure I’m cut out for that kind of stuff.”

“What, earning money?” Heather scoffs.

“No, living with a stranger.”

“Most of the time the nanny gets like a separated place so it wouldn’t be that bad, but you know what’s good for you. It was just an idea,” she shrugs.

Soon enough you drop any work talk not wanting to ruin the mood. You enjoy some time away from the stress of job hunting and you’re just trying to have fun with your best friend. You start talking about nostalgic memories from college and end up looking up people you graduated with on social media, checking out what they’ve been up to in the past years.

“Alright, I’m gonna go to the restroom quickly, watch out for my drink,” you announce pushing your drink closer to Heather as you head towards the restrooms.

There’s a bit of a line so you stand behind two girls chatting about some cute guy they just met and leaning against the wall you close your eyes for a moment, feeling the drinks hitting you in the head. You’re not used to drinking, haven’t really had the time to get drunk too much lately and it’s saddening to think that now that you’re unemployed, you could black out every day, you wouldn’t have anywhere to show up in the morning.

Getting deep in your thoughts you almost don’t even notice that your phone is buzzing in your pocket. When you finally realize you pull it out of your back pocket and look down at the unknown number with a scowl. You quickly leave your spot in the line and rush out to hear something as you answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I hope I’m not calling at an inconvenient time, I’m Harry Styles and I’m looking to talk to Y/N Y/L/N?” you hear a thick British accent on the other end of the line.

“This is her.”

“Great. Sorry for the late call, I’m Isabelle’s father.”

“Isabelle?” you ask in confusion, the names not really clicking in your head thanks to the shots you’ve been taking.

“Isabelle Styles? Izzy?”

“Oh! Yes! Sorry, yeah. Mr. Styles, what can I help you with?” you ask, not sure why Izzy’s dad would be calling you.

“Well I just recently learned from my daughter that you’re not working at the daycare any longer?” “Uh, yeah. Unfortunately I was fired this Monday…” you awkwardly answer.

“I’m sorry about that. Izzy has been really sad about it, I wanted to ask if you’ve found a new job already?”

“Not yet, I’ve been looking but I haven’t had much luck yet,” you confess.

“In that case I have an offer to make,” he firmly continues and you perk up at his words. “I’ve been thinking about pulling Izzy out of daycare, but I didn’t want to do it until I found someone to take good care of her. You’ve been her absolute favorite and she’s been devastated since you’ve been gone. If you’re up for a job of this kind, I would like to offer you a spot as Izzy’s nanny.”

“Oh!” is all you react, completely not expecting this call.

“I know there are a lot to discuss, but if you’re interested, I would be more than happy to have a chat with you sometime this weekend? To go over the details and see if we can make it work.”

“I, uh… Um, yeah. We can meet, that sounds good. When would it be good for you?”

“How about tomorrow afternoon?”

“That can work.”

“Amazing!” he beams. “I’ll send you the address through text if that’s alright for you.”

“Yeah, of course. When should I be there?”

“Would three o’clock suit you?”

“Absolutely,” you nod, stunned at the turn of events.

“Great, thank you so much, and once again, sorry to bother you on your Friday evening. Looking forward to see you tomorrow!”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles, see you soon!”

You get back in line at the bathroom and then make your way back to the table where Heather gives you a puzzled look.

“Did you take a massive shit or something?” she jokes as you take your seat and stare back at her, still in shock.

“No, I had a very interesting call, actually.”

“With who?”

“Um, Izzy Styles’ dad just called and offered me a job as her nanny.”

Heather almost chokes on her drink, coughing at the news. You hand her a napkin as she dries her chin off from her cocktail.

“Harry Styles wants you to be the nanny of his daughter?” she gasps.

“You know Izzy’s dad?”

“Y/N, everyone knows him! He is the sexiest man to walk this planet and not to mention that he is like stupidly rich! Have you not seen him yet?”

“Not really,” you shrug. “Izzy was picked up by an old woman most of the times, I guess I never worked when her dad came for her.”

“That explains why you’re not squirming already,” she scoffs. “That man is like… crazy hot, I’m telling you. I bumped into him one morning when I guess he was dropping Izzy off, the way he said ‘Pardon me, Darling’ made my knees shake,” she tells you, faking an accent that’s nowhere near what Mr. Styles sounded like on the phone.

“Well, I guess I’ll see him for myself. I’m meeting him tomorrow to discuss details,” you shrug and Heather slams her hand on the table.

“Oh my God! You’re gonna work for Harry Fucking Styles! Get ready because your panties will be soaking wet all the time,” she laughs like a hyena.

“Heather, stop!” you shake your head laughing too.

Following Mr. Styles’ call you decide to cut the night shorter than you intended, not wanting to look absolutely wasted when you meet him. Arriving home to your small, one bedroom apartment you take a quick shower before climbing to bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to collect your thoughts. You told Heather you’re not willing to do the whole live-in nanny thing and Mr. Styles might not even want you to live with them, but now that the option is there, you realize it might not be the worst case scenario. Especially since you’re not really swimming in other job offers and you are in desperate need of anything at this point.

Despite having consumed quite some alcohol the previous night, you wake up at a reasonable hour in the morning, finding a text from Mr. Styles about the address you’d have to be going in the afternoon. You make a quick trip to the grocery store and do some chores before you start getting ready for the meeting. You opt for a simple black dress that reaches your knees and pair it with a little funkier, flower printed blazer to bring some color into the outfit.

Punching the address into the GPS you see that it’s taking you to the outer skirt of the city to the neighborhood that’s known to have some quite luxurious estates and you immediately think back to what Heather said about him being ridiculously rich. Driving down the streets in your old Volkswagen you couldn’t stand out more at a place where at least three cars park on the driveways and one of them is a Ferrari or a Porsche.

There’s a massive security gate under the address that’s your destination and it’s left open so you can pull up to the driveway easily. You park next to a fucking Tesla, finding it extremely funny to see your car next to it, but it is what it is. Walking up to the front door you ring the bell as you take a look at the house that can easily considered to be a mansion. Guessing from the outside there are at least about five bedrooms in it and you can only imagine what other luxurious units are squeezed into it.

Soon enough the front door opens and you find yourself staring back at a breathtakingly gorgeous man, wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black suit pants, his chocolate curls falling to his forehead as his emerald eyes fall on you, a warm smile tugging on his lips.

Shit. Heather was fucking right, you think to yourself swallowing hard.

“Miss Y/L/N, it’s so nice to see you. I’m Harry, Izzy’s dad, come on in!” he invites you inside before a short handshake.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Styles.”

“Please, just call me Harry. I don’t like formalities at home,” he asks you as the two of you walk further inside until you arrive to what looks like a living room, but it’s actually the size of your apartment.

“Only if you call me Y/N,” you smile at him and he nods right away.

“Miss Y/N!” you hear a small voice call out and turning around you see Izzy running down the hallway until she throws herself against your legs.

“Oh, hello Sunshine!” you hum, squatting down so you can hug her.

“I missed you!” she pouts, rubbing her eyes.

“I missed you too,” you smile at her, caressing her soft cheeks before standing up. An older lady walks in, the one you’ve seen picking up Izzy. She approaches you with a friendly smile as she extends a hand towards you.

“Hi, I’m Ruth, it’s nice to meet you.” “Y/N, nice to meet you too.”

“Ruth, would you take Izzy outside while I talk to Miss—erm, Y/N here?” Harry requests. Ruth nods and taking Izzy’s hand she lures her outside to look for ladybugs in the backyard and that immediately catches her attention. The two of them leave through the sliding door, giving you and Harry privacy.

“Please, have a seat,” he gestures towards the sectional couch. “Would you like something to drink?”

“I’m good, thank you,” you smile at him as he sits in an armchair across you.

The interior of the house is quite cozy, kind of modern with a hint of vintage touches that make it less rigid, a pop of color showing at most corners so it’s not too monochrome. You quite like it.

“Y/N, I once again apologize for calling you at such an inappropriate hour, but I often work late and I wanted to get in touch with you as soon as possible upon hearing the news.”

“Don’t worry about it, I understand.”

“Isabelle mentioned it to me on Thursday that the other workers told her you no longer work at the daycare so I asked around a little yesterday and was informed that they let you go earlier in the week.”

“It was quite sudden for me as well,” you chuckle lightly, feeling a little anxious to talk about it.

“I know it’s not too appropriate, but I asked why they chose you to part ways with and I have to say it’s outraging that some parents are so ignorant and wayward. I’m really sorry this had to be the reason out of everything.”

“Thank you.” It actually feels nice that he thinks the same, this whole firing was ridiculous and you were losing hope in humanity, but Harry is now very much restoring it.

“Let me walk you through what the situation is here and what I was thinking about.” You nod and listen carefully. “I’m president of a record label and it consumes most of my time, I sometimes work sixty hours a week which I know is not ideal and healthy and I’m trying to change it, but it’s not an easy situation. I thought that putting Izzy into daycare was a good idea, but it’s been getting harder to work around her schedule as a single parent with so much work on my hands. Ruth is a family friend who has been helping tremendously with Izzy, but she is not getting any younger and she would like to retire fully and spend more time with her own grandkids. So I’ve been thinking about hiring a nanny for Izzy and try to make her days work around mine while I’m able to do that. She is going to start preschool in little over a year and I want to spend as much time with her as possible, but it’s not easy when the schedule depends on an institution. When she told me about your firing I had the thought that you might be interested in taking the spot as her nanny. She is obsessed with you, wouldn’t stop talking about what you do every day, and I might have also looked into your professional background. I like what I’ve seen and I’m very much into the way you’ve been dealing with the kids at the daycare. Openness is really important and I want Izzy to grow up in an environment that teaches her about being equal and supportive towards each other. I would be more than happy if you’d be the one taking care of Izzy while I’m not available.”

To say the east you’re stunned at how forward and open he was about the offer and his compliment about your professional background is quite flattering. You can tell he is doing an amazing job at raising Izzy as an open and accepting human, she was always one of the nicest and sweetest kids who always made sure to include all her peers in the games you played. And it’s obvious Harry is not just being a hypocrite, his tattooed arm, painted nails and ring clad fingers are not quite what you’d traditionally imagine a man like him wear, but he does it well and clearly doesn’t give a fuck what others might think about it.

Harry continues with how much he thought you’d be earning for the job and you almost choke on your own saliva. It’s almost three times as much as you’ve been earning at the daycare and you’d be able to save a good chunk every month which is quite amazing.

“I have to ask, were you thinking about a situation where I live with you or I’d have to be coming here every day?”

“Well, essentially it would be the easiest for everyone if you moved in. I have plenty of rooms you could choose from and you’d have access to everything else as well, of course, including the home gym, the pool, the sauna and the entertainment room. But I understand if you are not willing to make that commitment. If you choose to live here you wouldn’t be charged anything, naturally.”

This actually sounds like a dream, moving into this luxury mansion from your cramped little apartment and being able to save the money you’ve been paying on rent.

“And what would be the time management? If I moved in it would easily make me fall into a habit of always working, which is not quite ideal,” you point it out.

“Of course,” he nods. “I like to take care of her morning routine so you’d have to start around nine when I leave to the office. If we can make this deal working I’d like her to start taking some extra classes during the day, moving her activities earlier in the day so her afternoons would be free. She takes piano lessons on Mondays and Wednesdays, a swimming instructor comes here on Thursdays and she is taking French lessons every Tuesday and Friday. Everything takes place here, I would reschedule her activities to take place between nine and twelve. You wouldn’t have to worry about her during those times. You’d cover lunch time and then the afternoons. I try to get home between four and six and just work from home if it’s possible so I can be around her. You’d have to only help out whenever I can’t make it home in time I have urgent works that have to be done from home. We could have dinner time together and then her night time routine is my duty again. Ruth is willing to help me out on Saturdays and I spend Sundays with her strictly without any work distraction so you’d have the weekends off unless something comes up. In those cases I would check in with you beforehand and arrange it however it works best for you.”

You’re speechless for a moment. What he just shared doesn’t seem too bad, you might have to work a lot more, but being one on one with just one kid is much easier than dealing with fifteen of them at once. Not to mention that the money is still amazing compared to what you’d have to be doing.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, it’s an amazing offer. Izzy is such a sweet girl, I would be more than happy to take care of her.”

Harry smiles at you warmly, clearly proud of his daughter, as he should be.

“Can I ask for some time to think about it? It would be a huge commitment.” “Of course. Take your time and let me know whatever your decision is.”

“Thank you.”

Harry offers a quick tour in the house regardless, the kitchen is massive, they have a nice dining area with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out to the green slopes of the backyard that seems to be Izzy’s kingdom. She has a playhouse that could almost function as a real one, the pool is filled with floaties for her and she has her own playground further in the back with slides, monkey bars and a swing set. Your assumptions were almost right about the number of bedrooms. Beside Harry’s master and Izzy’s own room there’s one that’s been used by Ruth, one that’s for Harry’s mother and sister for whenever they are staying over and there are three additional rooms now serving as guest bedrooms, one of those would be turned into your room if you chose to move in. The gym seems better than the one you’ve been going whenever you felt like being a little active, the entertainment room has everything you could ever think about for a room this sort of and the sauna is already calling your name. Living and working here might actually feel like a vacation.

“Miss Y/N! Look what I found!” Izzy runs up to you when you and Harry step out to the backyard, holding her pointing finger up. A ladybug is wandering around her tiny finger, not even bothering with the amazed girl that’s inspecting it.

“Wow! How many dots do you see on it?” you ask and she knits her eyebrows together, counting the black dots.

“Five!”

“Yes, good job!” you ruffle her curls as she smiles up at you proudly. She really is an angel, you’ve grown to like her a lot and you would be lying if you said you didn’t get emotional over thinking about never seeing her again. Being able to take care of her and give her the best possible childhood would be such a dream and the chance to do that is right in front of you.

“I’ll be waiting for your call, Y/N,” Harry smiles at you walking you towards the front door.

“Harry, I don’t think you need to do that,” you speak up and see his face fall, he obviously took it the wrong way, thinking that you want to say no to his offer.

“Oh…”

“It’s not that,” you chuckle softly. “I would love to take the job. And if you’re still okay with that, I’d like to move in, it would make everything just so much easier.”

You watch as his expression changes from disappointed to hopeful as he cracks a smile nodding.

“Yeah, the offer is still there. When do you think you can start?”

“How soon do you want to pull Izzy out of daycare?”

“As soon as possible. If I have to I can go in on Monday and do all the paperwork. You could move in sometime during the week maybe?”

“I have to talk to my landlord about my lease, but I’m fine with moving in during the week,” you nod smiling and you can’t help but feel excited.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you so much. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

You discuss a few more details and then you head out, thinking about how the next time you’ll be coming here, you’ll be moving in.

“If this one doesn’t go to the donate box, I’m leaving right now.”

Heather holds up a pair of denim shorts, painted in the colors of the flag of the States. She holds it pinched between her index finger and thumb as if it was something nasty and disgusting

“You know I only bought that for that stupid frat party. I never wore that anywhere else, so you can put it into the donate box.”

“Thank God!” she groans and throws the shorts into said box.

It’s Sunday evening and your place looks like a warzone, boxes taking up the place everywhere as you’re packing your life up to officially move into the Styles mansion. You agreed with Harry to bring over a good chunk of your stuff on Monday and then settle in for real on Tuesday. He is pulling Izzy out of daycare first thing on Monday and you’d stay at home with her for the first time on Wednesday. It’s been a fast paced change, but you couldn’t care less. With the amount Harry is gonna pay you, you’ll be able to save up a good chunk every month, like you always wanted to.

As you finish putting your books away you reach the shelves that contain all your photo albums. Photography has been your passion for a long time. It started as a simple hobby sometime through your freshman year in high school, but in senior year, your photos filled the yearbook and you even did the design of it too. You’ve had a few gigs since then, some weddings and pregnancy shoots and you like to sell your photos individually as well. You wouldn’t have imagined how much a simple nature photo costs.

Flipping through the one on the top, you can’t help the bitter smile on your face as you see the photos from your brother’s 14th birthday three years ago. There are tons of family pictures with you, your brother Trevor and your parents, seemingly being all happy and joyful. Things were different back then and you didn’t see anything coming.

It’s past midnight by the time you more or less finish packing, you’ve filled three big boxes with things to donate so you have significantly less stuff to move to the Styles mansion in the morning. Heather spends the night, but leaves early in the morning since she needs to go to work. The moving van you rented out arrives a little after eleven and the two guys from the moving company helps you load it with about two thirds of your stuff. Harry is at work when you arrive and Izzy is still at the daycare, Ruth is the only one at home, she helps you out even though you tell her not to break a sweat over it.

“Let me help, makes me feel needed,” she chuckles sweetly when you try to get her to stop, but she insists on bringing in some smaller bags and boxes.

You’re still unpacking when Ruth arrives back with Izzy a little after four. You hear her little feet tapping against the floor as she runs down the hallway, bursting into your future room.

“Miss Y/N! You’re here!” she cheers, throwing herself into your arms as you sit on the floor, being the perfect level for the little girl.

“I am! How was your day, little Sunshine?”

“We finger painted and I made a painting for daddy, do you want to see it?”

“Of course!”

Izzy disappears to get her backpack from Ruth who is making her some snacks in the kitchen. She soon returns with her painting, presenting it to you proudly.

“Look! This is me and this is daddy!” she points at the two human-like figures, the only thing giving away who is who is that one of them is bigger than the other one. “And then this is mommy!” she then adds, pointing at a star in the upper corner of the painting and you freeze.

In the midst of everything, you didn’t even have the time to question why Harry is a single parent. To be honest your first guess would have been divorce, but Izzy’s painting is telling you something a lot more tragic.

“It’s beautiful,” you smile at her, trying to hide your surprise at the new information. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

Ruth makes sure Izzy is busy while you finish up unpacking and when you’re about to be done, Harry arrives home. Approaching your room even though the door is open he knocks on the doorframe, catching your attention.

“Hello, just wanted to see how things are going. Do you need help with anything? I’m sorry I couldn’t be here to help with the boxes and all…”

“Hi! Oh don’t worry about that, I had plenty of help,” you shrug smiling. “Everything is going fine, thank you.”

“Great. I did all the paperwork today, tomorrow is going to be Izzy’s last day at daycare. You’re still up to start on Wednesday, right?”

“Yeah, of course. I only have a few things left at home so I’ll be all set by tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much,” he smiles warmly. “And thank you for being so quick about everything. It means a lot to me that I can spend more time with Izzy thanks to you. I really appreciate it.”

“I should be thanking you the opportunity. I wasn’t really drowning in the job offers,” you chuckle making him smile as well. “Please let me know if you want me to change anything, I have a plan I would like to go around with Izzy’s days, but of course, your word is the most important.”

“I trust you to take good care of her during the day. The only thing I want is to have her home when I get home. Ruth couldn’t always pick her up before and I really hated to do the extra trip and pick her up from daycare instead of coming straight home to be with her.”

“Understandable. I’ll make sure to plan accordingly,” you nod smiling.

“Y/N, I want you to feel home as much as possible. This is your place just as much as it is ours now. Izzy and I go grocery shopping every Sunday, it’s kind of a father-daughter thing we do every week. We keep a list on the fridge, feel free to add whatever you need and we’ll get it.”

You can’t help the smile that stretches across your lips, because this is such a sweet thing to do, when Harry could easily afford someone to do the work for him. Yet he still uses this time to be with his daughter.

“Yeah, sure, thank you!”

“I’ll get out of your hair now. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“Oh, no, but thank you. I still have some things to take care of before tomorrow.”

“Alright,” he nods before walking out. He leaves you thinking hard about him. You wonder what really happened to Izzy’s mom and if he is dating someone right now. A man like him is basically a dream to any woman, you doubt he is having a hard time finding a partner, but you haven’t seen any sign of another woman around the house. Guess you’ll have to wait and figure it out yourself.

The apartment is awfully empty on your last night here. When you moved in about a year ago you didn’t think you’d be moving into a mansion from here. You spend the evening cleaning out a bit so you leave the place in good condition. Your landlord was terribly nice about your early leave, you could easily agree that you’d pay for the two more weeks that’s left from the month and that would be all, no extra costs for moving out before your lease was up.

You’re cleaning off the kitchen counter when your phone starts ringing, it’s a video call from your brother.

“Hey there! What’s up?” you ask, propping up the phone on top of the microwave while you move around, doing your thing. Trevor seems to be lying in bed, a black hoodie covering his upper body.

“Hello, just wanted to see how the moving has gone today.”

Despite the ten year age gap between you and Trevor, your relationship couldn’t be better. Probably because you were old enough to see what a blessing a sibling really is when he was born.

“Everything went smoothly. I only have a few stuff to bring over, that can fit into my car tomorrow, so it’s fine.”

“Cool. How is the dude? What was his name again?”

“Harry. Harry Styles.” You see him pull his laptop to his lap and probably searches up Harry’s name before his eyes widen at the screen.

“This dude is big! He is the president of HES Records, they run some of the most popular singers these days.”

“Yeah? I was sure he is a big name judging from his mansion,” you chuckle.

“Have you looked him up yet?”

“Not really.” “Want me to read what’s here about him?”

“Sure,” you hum, continuing to clean while you listen to Trevor.

“Alright. Apparently he is thirty-one, took over the record company when he was just twenty-five because his father wanted to retire early. The number of talents working under the label has doubled since he has taken over and many of his clients have won Grammy Awards. Impressive,” he hums, scrolling down on whatever site he has just found. “He is known to be a private person, the last time he made an appearance… Oh shit…” Trevor breathes out and you turn to your phone with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?”

“Wow, this shit is heavy. It says the last time he made a public appearance was in 2017, not long before his wife was killed in a car accident.”

You freeze, feeling your stomach drop to the floor, immediately thinking back at Izzy’s painting of her family. It very much makes sense why she said the star was her mother, it must be the way Harry explained to her what happened to her mother.

“It happened in 2018, she wasn’t in the fault, a drunk driver ignored the red light and ran into her car at a crossroad. This is terrible, oh God.”

“Poor Izzy, she probably doesn’t even know what really happened.”

“Must have been hard on him, there’s not much about him since then.”

“Can’t blame him for not wanting to be in the spotlight after losing his wife.”

“Yeah.”

Trevor shows you a few pictures of him from years ago, he has always been handsome, but your favorites are the few from the times when he had long hair. He looked so different, like a whole other person, but still, he rocked it perfectly.

Then you show Trevor around in the empty apartment before loving to the couch, turning all your attention to him.

“How have things been?” you ask with a sigh. Trevor purses his lips and shrugs.

“Other than the constant screaming matches on the phone and endless fights every time dad comes over for more of his stuff? Everything is rainbows and butterflies.”

“Is it really that bad?” you scowl.

“It’s like they never run out of stuff to throw at each other, but I feel like this much couldn’t happen even in their twenty-eight years together,” he scoffs making you chuckle.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck in the middle of all that.”

“It’s like payback,” he hums and you give him a puzzled look. “You had it bad growing up for being the surprise baby, making them teen parents. Then I came at a reasonable time, they already knew the drill, but now that you’re out of the house I’m getting all the shit, having to deal with their divorce.”

“I’m really sorry, Trev,” you sigh, feeling guilty that he is all alone at home.

“It’s fine, I don’t blame you,” he shrugs. “But you could make it better if you asked your millionaire boss if I could hang out at his house sometimes.” He grins at you slyly and you roll your eyes. Of course he is already thinking about using you for his own good!

“I don’t want to push the boundaries just yet, but I’ll see what I can do.”

You talk a little more about school and what he’s been up to with his friends before ending the call. You take a shower and go to bed right away, feeling extremely worn out from all the packing you’ve done through the day.

The next day you pack the remainder of your stuff into your car and then your landlord comes over to do a checkup, though he fully trusts you took good care of the place.

“Again, thank you for your understanding, I didn’t plan to leave so early, but it just kinda came up,” you tell him, handing him over your keys.

“Don’t worry about it. I hope your new place will treat you right,” he smiles kindly at you.

You chat a little longer before you leave and head over to your new home. Once again, Ruth is the only one home and being the angel that she is, she helps you to carry your stuff up from the car before leaving to get Izzy from daycare. Since there’s not much left to unpack you finish quite fast, leaving you some extra time alone in the house. Walking around you try to learn your way around, still finding it a bit of a maze. You find Harry’s home office’s door open and after a bit of hesitation you step inside, just taking a look around. Yeah, it’s kind of a nosy thing to do, but you couldn’t help yourself.

His space is quite clear, he keeps his stuff neatly organized. Certificates and plaques are hung up on the wall, showing off his many successes in the business. There’s a huge bookcase near his desk and there you see some family photos… ones that include his late wife as well.

She was beautiful. There’s a picture of the three of them in the hospital from the day Izzy was born, Harry has an arm around his wife’s shoulders who is holding baby Izzy, both of them radiating happiness as they just become parents. Your heart breaks when you see the photo next to it, it’s just Harry and her in Paris, the Eiffel tower standing tall behind them as they are grinning widely at each other, foreheads touching. Harry has his arms wrapped around her slim figure while she is hugging his neck. They look so happy and in love, like they were always meant to be with each other. Knowing what tragedy hit them is just hard to process even for you, who never even met the woman.

You hear the front door open and Izzy is laughing at something, so you rush out before anyone could catch you snooping around.

“Hi Miss Y/N!” she chirps upon seeing you when you meet them in the living room.

“Izzy, you don’t have to call me Miss Y/N, Y/N is perfectly fine,” you smile at her, caressing her rosy cheeks.

“Okay. Ruth, can I please have some ice-cream?”

“I’m afraid we ran out of ice-cream, but I’ll put it on your grocery list,” Ruth tells her, a pout tugging on Izzy’s lips.

“How about this: I’m gonna make a delicious smoothie, that’s almost like melted ice-cream, would you like some?” you offer and her eyes brighten up immediately, nodding right away.

While Ruth puts away Izzy’s things they brought home from daycare, while the two of you move to the kitchen to make the smoothie together. You find some frozen berries in the freezer and pair them with bananas, putting them all into the blender with oatmilk, blending it all together.

“How is it?” you ask Izzy, who is sitting on top of the counter, tasting the pink smoothie that leaves a cute little mustache above her cherry lips.

“I like it!” she smiles, scrunching her nose.

“We can make it some other time then,” you smile, drinking up your portion.

Izzy is dancing around the kitchen, babbling about her last day at daycare while you clean the glasses and the blender when Harry arrives. He is wearing a baby blue suit with a crispy dress shirt underneath, looking fashionable but still business appropriate at the same time.

“Daddy!” Izzy launches towards her daddy, who catches her, throwing her into the air before holding her in his arms, joining you in the kitchen.

“Hey baby. How was your day?”

“Good, all my friends hugged me but I told them we would meet in the park.”

“That’s right, and I have the number of all your friends’ parents, we can have playdates with them whenever you want to,” he smiles before his eyes meet yours. “Hi Y/N, everything went well with the rest of your moving?”

“Yeah, I’m all set,” you smile back at him.

“That’s great. I have a few calls to make, but I’ll be done in thirty probably. Would you mind looking out for Izzy in the meanwhile?”

“Of course. She promised me to take me around her room, so we could do that, what do you say?” you ask the little girl who nods in excitement.

Harry disappears in his office and Izzy pulls you to her room, showing you just about every toy she owns. Her room is a typical girl’s room, the walls are painted a light pink color, her bedframe resembles a castle and she has a dollhouse as big as your previous bathroom. Harry clearly spoils her rotten, but what you noticed is that she is not one of those annoying bratty only children who can’t take no. She was clearly taught how to behave and always listen to the adults.

While Izzy is putting her stuffed animals away after introducing you to all of them, you spot a photo frame near her bed, decorated with macaroni. You remember when you all did that together at daycare and now you get to see the photo that ended up behind the glass.

It’s a photo of Izzy and her mother, she was just a baby and doing quick math in your head you realize it must have been not long before her accident, might even be the last picture taken of the two of them. Her mom is smiling at the camera while Izzy is sleeping in her arms peacefully. Izzy looked a lot like her when she was a baby, the bridge of her nose and her lips resembled her mother’s, though now she appears to take more after her dad with her chocolate curls and piercing green eyes.

“That’s my mommy,” she tells you when she sees you looking at the photo.

“It’s a nice picture,” you smile at her, trying your best to hide how heartbroken you feel even just looking at the photo.

“Daddy said she had to go up to the sky, but she is watching me from there,” she explains, clearly not entirely sure what it means, but you can tell she misses her. “Daddy said she is living between the stars now and that she loves me very much.” You need to fight your tears back at her words.

“I’m sure of that too,” you breathe out smiling at her.

“Izzy, do you want to help me make dinner?” Harry walks in smiling, though it disappears for a moment when he sees the two of you looking at the photo of his wife, but he is quick to control himself.

“Yes! What are we making?” she runs over to him, jumping up and down.

“Uh, chicken and veggies.”

You step away from the photo, pretending like nothing just happened. You’re dying to discuss it with Harry, hear him talk about it, but you won’t push him. If he wants to share it, he’ll come to you.

“Alright, come on then,” he smiles down at her. “Thank you for watching her, I’ll take over from here. Food will be ready in about an hour, Ruth is staying with us as well,” he informs you.

“Great, I’ll… I’ll be in my room,” you nod.

The first two weeks on the job brush past smoothly. It takes you some time to get used to your new home, but taking care of Izzy doesn’t feel like work, so you’re feeling amazing in your new job. You easily fall into a schedule with her.

The mornings are always Harry’s duty. He wakes her up around seven-thirty, makes her breakfast and dresses her for the day before he leaves around nine. Thanks to this habit of his, you’re able to sleep in until eight, leaving you plenty of time to get ready for your day with Izzy before Harry has to leave. Depending on the weather, the two of you then either take over the back yard or move to her room for some play time before her class of the day starts in the noon. Piano with Rosaline on Mondays and Wednesdays, French lesson with Lyon on Tuesdays and Fridays and then Izzy’s favorite on Thursdays, swimming class with Kitty.

Izzy loves to help in the kitchen so you usually make lunch together. Once her tummy is full she takes a nap before you sit down to learn something new every day. You’ve been teaching her the numbers and the alphabet, or some days you just talk about anything that interests her and learn at least two things she hasn’t know yet, all through games so she doesn’t even realize what you’re doing. You’re usually done by around three, leaving you time to take a visit to the park, if Harry is not planning to take her himself later that day.

You’re strictly home by four, unless it’s Tuesday when she has her dance class until five. Those days you drive her to her class, run some quick errands and pick her up. Harry usually uses his extra time in the office on these days, but he is always home by six to have dinner together with his daughter.

Once Harry is home you’re off duty, though you like to stay close, not just in case something comes up for Harry, but because you genuinely like spending time with Izzy and Harry, seeing them interacting.

Harry sometimes has to work on Saturdays as well, but just as he promised Ruth is always here to take over duty on those days, leaving you free for the whole weekend. It’s been working perfectly for you and those very few concerns you had about moving in dissolve quite fast as soon as you start working.

Though it’s been pretty clear to you before, you now one hundred percent sure that Harry is living for his daughter. She is always a priority, he doesn’t hesitate to decline any work calls he gets in the evenings if Izzy needs him, if she is a little fussy and wants her daddy’s attention or when they are in the middle of a game. He is clearly trying to keep a balance between his work and role as a father and from what you’ve seen, it seems like he is doing an amazing job in that. However you haven’t learned much else about him. He is all friendly towards you, but makes sure to keep it business casual, not quite keen on getting to know each other better as just friends, maybe.

A Friday afternoon you’re having a little tea party in the backyard with Izzy when Harry arrives home, but this time, he is not alone. Through the sliding door you spot him with a blonde guy who is talking very articulately as Harry is typing on his phone. The man looks about Harry’s age, but you can’t tell if he is a friend or a business partner, but if Harry brought him home, he is more likely to be a friend of his.

“Uncle Niall!” Izzy gasps when he spots the man through the glass and abandoning the tea party, she starts running towards the door. The man spots her and slides the door open grinning widely before she jumps into his arms.

“Little bugger! How are ya?” the man laughs, holding Izzy in a tight hug before leaning back to take a good look at her. You notice his thick Irish accent and it suits his appearance quite well. You head inside as well, in case Harry needs Izzy busy for a little longer, though he doesn’t mind having her around, kissing the top of her head before finishing up whatever he was doing on his phone, watching Niall and Izzy smiling.

“I’m having a tea party with Y/N, wanna join?” Izzy invites the man, who then looks at you for the first time, smiling widely.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Izzy’s new nanny,” you introduce yourself, holding out a hand that he shakes, keeping Izzy in his other arm without a problem.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Niall.”

“Y/N, Niall is an old friend of mine. He is joining us for dinner, hope you don’t mind,” Harry informs you and you find it funny how he is kind of asking for your approval when it’s his house.

“Not at all.”

“Harry has told me he hired a pair of new hands to help, but he didn’t mention it’s a stunning young woman!” Niall beams, making you blush right away.

“Ni, I would appreciate it if you didn’t try to pick up my daughter’s new nanny,” Harry warns him lightly, though there’s some firmness in his tone, not that it scares Niall in any way, he even winks at you.

“Oh come on, you can’t expect me not to flirt when you surround yourself with so many pretty women! First Ruth and now Y/N!”

You smile at him, something is telling you he wasn’t joking and he tried to flirt with Ruth as well. Harry just rolls his eyes at his friend, taking Izzy from him.

“Keep it in your pants, Niall,” Harry tells him and though it’s nothing vulgar, it catches Izzy’s attention.

“What should he keep in his pants?” she questions, making your and Harry’s eyes grow big right away. Luckily, Niall keeps his cool and takes care of the situation.

“My attitude, Sweetie. Your daddy is just jealous because I’m more handsome than he is,” he smirks at the little girl, successfully avoiding an awkward conversation about what it is that Niall should keep in his pants.

You smile at his reply, even though you are not that sure about the comparison he just made between himself and Harry.

“Izzy, do you want to continue the tea party?” you ask her and even though just a minute ago she was inviting Niall to join her, now she shakes her head no. “Alright, I’ll pack it up then.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. We’ll do it, right Izzy? She brought it all out, she is going to be the one packing it up,” Harry reminds her and she nods.

The two of them move outside to put her little tea set back into the basket she keeps it in, leaving you and Niall alone.

“So Y/N, how did you end up here?”

“I was working at Izzy’s daycare, but they sent me away not long ago. Then Harry contacted me and offered the job which was a lifesaver, truly.”

“That’s great! Well, not that you got fired, but that you ended up here. I know it means a lot for Harry that he can spend more time with Izzy, you’re making everything a lot easier for him.” Niall walks over into the kitchen and grabs a water for himself as he leans against the counter. “I can see that he is a lot more relaxed now already.”

“Really?” you ask, surprised.

“Yeah. I know he always used to stress about picking Izzy up, or forgetting something the daycare asked for. Now he can make it all work just how he wants to, that fits him a lot more. It hasn’t been easy on him since Maggie’s death.”

This is the first time you hear anyone talk about Harry’s wife and now you just learned her name. Maggie.

“Being a single parents is never easy,” you add with a soft smile, not wanting to interrogate Niall about Maggie. It’s Harry’s place to tell you about her, if he wants to, of course.

Soon enough Izzy and Harry take over the kitchen, Niall helping them this time and you leave them alone, taking some time for yourself in your room. Later you go out to check if there’s anything you could help with, Harry asks you to set the table as he finishes up the cooking.

“So, Y/N. Tell me a little bit about yourself!” Niall asks you over dinner.

“Um, what do you want to know?” you ask, feeling a little flustered to be in the spotlight.

“I don’t know, family, friends, hobbies?”

“Well, I have a younger brother, Trevor. He is seventeen and already taller than me.”

“Oh, that seems like a big age gap.”

“Ten years, to be exact,” you nod. “He was planned, I wasn’t,” you add with a soft chuckle. “But we have a great relationship, so it’s all good. We talk almost every day.”

“I’m sure you’ll get well along with Gemma then!” Niall beams, glancing at Harry.

“Gemma is my sister,” Harry explains. “Though she is not that much older than me.”

“But you can bond over being stuck with a younger brother who outgrew you,” Niall jokes making all three of you laugh.

All through dinner you realize how different Niall is from Harry, but in a good way. While Harry is more quiet and calm, Niall is kind of all over the place, buzzing and chatting every chance he got, but the two of them make a great pair, bringing what the other doesn’t have to the table.

After dinner you attempt to leave them again, but Niall makes you stay as they open a glass of wine. Harry puts on a movie for Izzy to keep her busy, giving the three of you a chance to sit out at the terrace from where you still can keep an eye on the little girl inside.

“Alright, Y/N. When are we going on our first date then?” Niall asks out of the blue, a cocky smile tugging on his lips.

“Niall, for fuck’s sake,” Harry breathes out as you let out an awkward chuckle.

“What? I think there’s some electricity going on between us.”

“I, uhh—I don’t…”

“Please don’t turn me down!” he sighs dramatically, making you smile.

“You’ve been great company, but I’m not sure we should go out,” you tell him. He huffs in disappointment, but it’s clear he didn’t take it to his heart.

“Is it because you’re taken? I didn’t even ask, are you dating anyone? You can’t be engaged, because I don’t see any rings,” he points out, nodding towards your naked fingers, however his words make you suck on your breath.

“I’m not engaged. Not anymore,” you admit and you watch their eyes go wide at the information.

“Wait, you’ve been engaged before?” Harry asks, clearly surprised, if not shocked.

“Yeah. For about four months,” you nod, running your tongue over your lips as you reach for your wine, taking a few large gulps.

“And what did the fucker do?” Niall bluntly questions, earning a look from Harry. “What? I’m just curious what twat it takes to lose a woman like her!”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about that,” Harry presses, but you shrug.

“It’s not a secret. We dated for about two years before he proposed. I said yes, started planning the wedding and everything, then found out that he had been cheating on me with his assistant for about a year. We broke up, simple as that. It’s in the past, happened a year ago.”

“That’s some next level asshole bullshit,” Niall shakes his head while Harry is just staring at you with an unreadable look before he turns his attention at his glass, still clearly deep in his thoughts and you wonder what he thinks of you now. Here is the loser who not only got cheated on, but lost her job, all of that just in one year.

Harry doesn’t react, and a moment later Izzy comes out because she is thirsty, so daddy duties call him away. Niall stays a little, but heads home soon as well.

“It was nice meeting you, Y/N. The date still stands though,” he smirks when he pulls back from the short hug he enveloped you in.

“Alright,” you chuckle, slowly getting used to his flirty act.

You was the wine glasses and head back to your room while Harry walks Niall out and then takes Izzy upstairs to give her a bath. You don’t cross paths until later when you leave your room, already in your pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt to grab some water for yourself and he walks out of Izzy’s room just then, probably done with putting her to sleep.

“I’m sorry if Niall made you uncomfortable, he didn’t mean to be rude or anything,” he apologizes as the two of you walk together.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you chuckle softly. “It was kind of a boost to my ego, if I’m being honest.”

Harry huffs with a smile and stops at the kitchen island, his fingers tapping on his lips as you grab yourself a bottled water.

“I’m… I’m sorry about… about what you told us earlier.”

Closing the fridge you look at him, seeing that he is kind of hesitant, like he is not sure he should have spoken up, but you appreciate the thought.

“It’s alright. Just water under the bridge,” you shrug.

“I just feel bad you had to go through that.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you chuckle softly. “It sucked, yeah. I really thought I would live happily ever after with Keith, but instead I got a lesson.”

“A lesson?”

“When we broke up I was obviously on the floor, both literal and theoretical way. I thought it was my fault, that I did something wrong and that’s why he did what he did. I even thought that I’m not worthy of being loved and being in love again. Took me time to realize that no matter what happened, I still deserve to be happy and to find someone to love and who can love me back.”

It appears that your words touch him deep, staring back at you, he just nods shortly, not replying to anything you just said. You’re not sure he is so silent because he doesn’t really understand what you just talked about or if it hit too close to home. Whatever it is, he keeps it to himself.

“Good night, Harry,” you smile at him before walking out of the kitchen and up into your room.

You’re lying in bed already when you hear him open his room’s door and then close it and suddenly he is all you can think about. The way his eyes sometimes pierce down on you, the way he taps his fingers against his lips when he is thinking hard or the proud smile that always plasters across his face whenever he is watching Izzy do basically anything. But you do see some pain in those beautiful green eyes of his and your desire to take just the smallest fracture of it away grows, even though he is not showing any sign that he is willing to share it with you.

The next morning, despite having the day off, you wake up quite early. You toss and turn, try to fall back asleep a little longer, but you just can’t. It’s a nice, warm morning and you decide to take advantage of the little balcony attached to your room. Wrapping yourself in your fluffy robe you grab the book you started reading a few days ago and sit out, enjoying the morning Sun that’s shining right at you on the balcony.

You don’t even realize for a while that you’re not the only early riser. When your eyes wander down to the big oak tree that’s near Izzy’s playground, you spot Harry doing what appears to be yoga on a green mattress, wearing nothing else, just a pair of black shorts. No shirt.

For a moment you think about going inside, feeling like you’re invading his privacy in a way, but you have the right to enjoy the morning Sun on your balcony, it’s not your fault he decided to have yoga at the exact same time. And it’s just hard not to look at his shirtless body stretching in all directions, twisting and turning as he goes through the motions, his tattooed body on full display.

It’s been clear since the moment you laid eyes on him for the first time that Harry is probably the most beautiful man you’ve ever met and that includes all your exes. Paired with his kind of mysterious charisma and the way he takes care of his daughter, he is the whole package, but you have been busy with Izzy to dwell too long on how attractive he really is. But right now, you are not working and he is very much shirtless in the backyard, teasing you with thoughts you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about when it comes to your boss.

A shaky breath leaves your mouth as you let yourself watch him just for a few more minutes before heading back inside, not wanting to get busted for being a stalker and also not wanting to see him in more positions and have even more unholy thoughts about him.

But what you don’t know is that just as you step inside, Harry catches your figure disappearing in your room, knowing well you saw him too.

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

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sconnie-doesnt-know · 4 years ago

Text

Ransom’s Hallmark Moment

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Word Count: 4300

Warnings: Language, drinking, smut including unprotected sex (imagine that birth control), Ransom's bad attitude and Ransom being soft (what?!)

A/N: written for the Hoelentine's Day Challenge hosted by @chrissquares @amythedvdhoarder and @drabblewithfrannybarnes

My giftee is Heather @hevans-angel and I hope I've been able to fulfill some of your wishes you sweet lady!

So much appreciation for @stargazingfangirl18 and @drabblewithfrannybarnes for helping me and being so supportive and creative! Now, on to the fic!

Aside from the date on the calendar, it feels like a typical Sunday. You got a lot done around the house, allowed yourself some time to relax and baked enough for a small army. Wiping the last of the crumbs away, you proudly look over the pile of treats ready to be given out the next day at work - all sweet and sprinkled and festive in pink and red. Spending the day baking, relaxed and comfortable with old episodes of ‘Bewitched’ on for company is just what you needed before starting another week. Plus, you aren't really alone. There's always Andy.

The wind suddenly blows hard, shaking the windows. You glance outside at the darkened sky, noticing the heavy sheets of snow falling to the ground.

“Shit,” you hiss, making your way to the back door and opening it, “Andy!”

You wait a moment and shout again, “Andy! Come on in!” followed by a series of whistles.

Nothing.

“Oh no, no no please no, not again,” you whine, heading back into the kitchen to find your phone already ringing. You scrunch up your face in a grimace as you answer as sweetly as possible, “Hello?”

“Missing something?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, I was just about to call you.”

“Yeah, well, he’s here of course. If you don’t get here soon, I might call animal control.”

“You always say that, Ransom, but I know you like him. I’ve seen the water bowl and that old tennis ball by the front walkway.”

“That’s from the housekeeper.”

“Mmhmm, sure. You know I’ll be right there. I’m sorry.”

“Sure you are, see you soon angel.”

You scoff at the nickname. He’s always using a sweet one on you, while calling your dog something far less endearing like hellhound, or fleabag, or even Cujo. The first time he said that one, you looked over at your Lab/Husky mix, with his ears perked at attention and tongue lolling out from his dopey dog smile and laughed like you hadn’t in a long time.

Ransom was less amused.

For some reason, when you moved to the little cottage house set back into the woods, your dog decided to treat himself to adventures which almost always ended with him in front of the wall of windows at Ransom’s home smearing his nose, and drool and mud all over the panes of glass.

That first pickup was not encouraging. You’d been out searching and going down the long driveways of your neighbors to search until you found him at Ransom’s, sitting and thumping his tail against the ground and staring at Ransom through the window, who for his part, stood with his arms crossed and scowling down at your dog.

That was the first time he told you to keep him contained or he’d call animal control.

You gave him your number, begging him to call you instead if it happened again. After a few weeks the promise of calling animal control was more of a joke than a threat.

Half the time you were already on your way over, having noticed the dog had taken off, but the other half, it was a grumpy call from Ransom, complaining about being harassed by some wild beast. Apparently the ability to spin a tale was a family trait.

By the time you got there, Andy would usually be tired out from his little journey and be waiting for you to leash him, allowing you and Ransom to get caught up in conversation. And so began an awkward-sometimes tense-sometimes flirty almost-friendship with the man. You were equal parts grateful and pissed at Andy, because of course he would go out of his furry little way to make an ass of you in front of the most handsome man you’ve seen in real life. Tall, broad-shouldered, stoic and reserved, plus cocky to top it all off - the man was checking boxes left and right.

Weeks later, Ransom was still those things, but also sarcastic, witty, a bit playful and very charming when he was in the mood. You caught the appreciative looks he gave your body when you approached (not that he really tried to hide them), and you allowed yourself moments to linger on his features as well. Your little conversations on his front walkway almost always turned flirty, at least until Andy made his impatient presence known by tugging at the leash or barking to get your attention.

You pack up some cookies, cupcakes, and truffles you made to make some sort of peace offering, grab the leash, and head out to retrieve your little trouble-maker. The thick, wet flakes are heavy, and make the journey down the wood-lined roads slower than usual.

You pull up, squinting through the falling snow, unable to see Andy in his usual spot. You see Ransom walk through the house and to the door, waving you inside, so you hurry from the car, head ducked down to try to avoid the chill and wedge your way in, shaking away the snow once you feel the warmth inside.

“He’s in my garage,” he tells you in lieu of an actual greeting, moving away as you shake off the snow.

“What? You let him inside?”

“Not inside-inside, but yeah. I know better than to leave a pet out in that. Christ. And you know, I keep telling you, princess if you want to see me, you don’t have to keep sending that mutt over as an excuse.”

“Yeah, sure. But what a waste of all that training,” you quip back. It’s almost a routine at this point.

You roll your eyes when he gives you an over exaggerated, proud smile. You immediately want to roll your eyes again because of how good that stupid smile looks on him, too. Your gaze can’t help but travel up and down the length of him, long legs, slim hips that go up to those broad shoulders, all encased in a heavy sweater...with holes torn at the lower hem and at the stomach.

Without thinking, you rush forward to grab the frayed yarn cringing at the idea of needing to replace the expensive garment, “Oh no, did he do this? I know he gets jumpy when he’s excited.”

“No, he didn’t,” he wipes at the front of this stomach. “It’s fine. It’s just like that.”

He can’t even say anything else before you start with more apologizing and rambling, “I am so, so sorry. I swear I only left him out there for a few minutes so he could play in the snow, and he’s been so good. And here,” you thrust the package at him, “I made some food and I hope you have a sweet tooth, and I know it doesn’t make up for the inconvenience and-”

“What’s this?” he asks, shaking it slightly and breaking up your word vomit.

“Uh, it-it’s just like some cookies and stuff that I made.”

“What for?”

“For Valentine’s Day. I made a bunch of stuff because at work we’re doing a thing tomorrow, so-”

“No, I mean why are you giving these to me?”

“Oh,” you hadn’t thought you would need to explain, “Um, neighborly kindness? Gratitude? Because it’s Valentine’s Day?”

“Huh. Does this make you my Valentine?” He laughs and turns on his heel, walking away toward where you can see is the kitchen area.

“For some reason, you don’t strike me as the sweet and cuddly Valentine type,” you call after him, hearing him chuckle in response.

You wait in the foyer for what feels like too long, just listening as he moves around, opens and closes cabinets and goes on like you’re not there. You look around uncertain what you’re expected to do since you usually don’t make it past the doorway until you decide to pull off your boots and hang your jacket over a chair set near the door. You follow the path he made into the kitchen.

“Sooo. Like I was trying to say, I don’t want to bother you,” you say quietly, “I will just grab Andy and head on home.”

“You really wanna drive with that going on?” he gestures to the window. When you look, it’s practically a blizzard and your car is covered in a fresh, thick layer already.

“Shit,” you rub at the side of your face, nervous at the idea of navigating the roads, but just as anxious to not irritate the man staring you down from across the counter. “Not really. Where’s Andy? I wanna check on him.”

He points to a door down the hall. “Garage is through there.”

You make your way through the house with your jaw clenched, unsure with what you might find knowing that Ransom’s not exactly a fan of dogs. So opening the door he pointed to and finding your dog curled up on an old tarp with that familiar worn-out tennis ball, a full water bowl, all cozy and warm inside the otherwise empty garage is not what you expected at all.

Your dog lifts his head, tail thumping against the floor as you approach, but he seems worn out from his romp through the snow, so you let him settle down after making sure he’s alright and head back to Ransom in the living room. A small smile in place of your grimace from a few moments before.

“The garage is heated,” Ransom tells you from his seat on the couch. “Figured he’d be alright in there. Can’t do much damage.”

“That’s...that’s really great.” You’re caught off-guard by the thoughtfulness of it. “Thanks for setting him up. I’ll just wait until it slows down and head back out, don’t want to mess up any plans you had.”

He laughs at that, hard and loud. “No, in fact you and the mutt gave me the perfect out from a family thing.”

“Oh really, don’t let us keep you.”

“Oh no, I’m too busy being a hero during the snowstorm,” he answers dryly, letting silence hang in the air for a few moments afterward. “Drink?” he offers.

“A hero? That’s the excuse you’re giving them?” You try to wave off the drink offer, but then he points back outside.

“I think we’ve got some time on our hands. And yeah, makes for a great story, doesn’t it?” he chuckles to himself.

You glance back to the wall of windows, seeing nothing but swirling white and sighing, “Sure, might as well. But just to let you know, Andy might not be thrilled that you’re using him as an excuse.”

He smiles and gets up from the sofa to pour you each a glass, then turns back and holds yours out to you, “I know a girl, I think she might be willing to put in a good word for me.”

You take a sip of your drink to hide your grin and sit on the sofa when he does.

A little while goes by and despite the somewhat awkward start to the situation, he’s not bad company. Andy is still content with his set-up, nearly ready to tuck in for the night when you check on him again later. When you return, Ransom’s opened the box of goodies, happily making a dent in the whiskey dark chocolate truffles you piled in there.

“So, you’re sure we’re not interrupting anything? No lady or ladies or even gentlemen you planned to entertain?” You ask as you settle back onto the sofa, closer to the center. Ransom had ignited the fireplace while you were up, dimming the lights and letting the orange flames illuminate the space in front of you.

“Will you drop it already? Nothing aside from the usual family obligation to show up, deal with passive aggressive bullshit, then some outright aggressive bullshit, and watching the show when it all implodes. I am happy to let a pretty girl and her big, messy dog give me an excuse to stay home.”

You laugh, trying to brush off the compliment thrown in there, “Hard to believe you want to miss out on all that. Sounds like a real special time.”

“Very special,” he drawls. He wipes some crumbs off his fingers as he shakes his head before adding, “Trust me this is much better.” He tosses his arm over the back of the couch, letting it fall on your shoulders and force you to lean a bit further into him.

“Yeah,” you mutter as you look down to your feet and fumble a string of syllables of incomplete words as you try to remind yourself to not read too much into what he’s saying.

“Oh, come on.” He picks up the slack in the conversation when you still don’t manage to say anything else for a few moments, leaning into your space as he breaks the silence. “So, I finally have you all to myself and you’re gonna be shy for me?”

You look up at him, eyes wide and heat rising in your cheeks and chest. “What?”

The hand not wrapped over you reaches out and pushes your chin up, closing your mouth which dropped into an ‘o’ of surprise. His thumb slides up to trace at the pout of your lip.

“Please, baby girl. Neither of us is very subtle. I don’t really do romance, but we’ve got a fire going, we’re stuck in a snowstorm, and I’ve been wanting to get you all to myself since that mutt first showed up over here. If that isn’t some panty-soaking Hallmark crap right there, then I don’t know what is.”

That makes you laugh, which makes him laugh right along with you. The tension has shaken loose and your smile is uncontrollable. It’s ridiculous - the scenario, his words, that he can read you so well, that he isn’t wrong.

“Hard to believe you don’t have women knocking down your door with all that to offer.”

“Just one woman, and her very stupid dog.”

“Hey,” you start in offense, but still move in when he does, smiling into the kiss. It’s chaste and soft for brief seconds before lips part and your tongues meet. His hands waste no time to pull you closer, tugging you along and making you shift on your knees until he pulls you over him to straddle his lap.

You’re grabbing at everything you can, bunching his thick sweater in your hands, then sliding up and down over his shoulders and biceps, appreciating how solid he feels beneath you. Until finally, you rake your fingers into his hair, ruffling it a bit and then grasping it tightly at the crown to pull his head back, drawing a short moan from his throat.

He tilts back into the pull and you lift yourself up higher on your knees to keep your lips together. When your hands finally let go, allowing him to ease the arch of his neck, you take your time sliding your body down against his torso, pushing your core over the hard bulge in his slacks.

“You gotta ride me, baby.” It sounds like an order, not an option.

Yes. You aren’t sure if you say it out loud, but you feel the air leave your lungs in a rush and your body quivers at just the thought. You don’t care if this is quick, or rushed, or frantic - it’s exactly what you want rightfuckingnow.

His palms rest at the edge of your hip bones, fingers spread and digging into your sides and just slightly pushing and pulling you to get some pressure where you feel that he’s hard.

You reach down, covering his hands with yours and pull them up your sides under your sweater, not so much encouraging as demanding that he move things along. He gets with the program quickly and pushes the sweater up, separating your lips long enough to take it off then pulling you back as quickly as he can. His hands find their own way to the clasp of your bra, making quick work of removing it as well and eagerly touching every inch of bare skin.

When you both start to pant, breaths coming out hard and shaky, he moves his lips to tickle the skin on your cheek, down to your jaw, along the curve there and onto your neck. He sucks at the sensitive skin, nibbling and dragging his teeth when he gets focused on a single sensitive spot that makes you whine out loud.

Your head hangs down to the side, letting him work his way down the column of skin there and sinking into the loose, ragdoll feeling as your body just gives in to every sensation of pleasure. His arms squeeze you against him while he keeps pushing his hips up and into you, teasing you with hints of pressure where you are starting to feel empty and needy.

“Yes,” you gasp, definitely out loud this time. “Yes,” over and over, every time he does something whether it is with his tongue, or his fingers - his blunt nails digging into the sides of your ribs to hold you tightly in place, or the twist of your hips as he lifts his own up against you.

It’s so much, and you’ve only just lost your shirt. It’s not worth waiting anymore. Your mind is set now to just get what you want.

You push away from him. He slowly comes to, eyes glazed and unfocused, a low mutter of “the fuck” slurred from his lips. Before he can reach for you, you lift off him. Your legs are shaky, but you stand as steadily as you can, undoing the button and zipper and pulling down your jeans and panties in a single push.

He watches for a second, then reaches behind him, gripping the neck of his sweater and hauling it up and over his head. He reveals almost exactly what you were hoping for - solid, defined muscles and smooth skin - but there’s more. Hair across his pecs and in a line down the center of his abs, and freckles dotting everywhere on his fair skin. You want to caress and trace every one, run your fingers along imaginary paths and press against him - but it can wait. It’s got to wait.

Impatiently, you kneel, kicking the legs of your pants away and shuffling forward to reach for his belt. His hands settle at his side, flexing, but letting you do what you seem to be compelled to do. You fling the ends of the belt apart and pull at the button and then the zipper, already salivating at the mingling scent of his cologne and sex.

He straightens his hips, lifting from the couch to allow you to shove his boxers and pants down his legs, his cock pulling with them, then bouncing back up once freed. It throbs, slightly bobbing with a rush of arousal and you can’t help but admire the thickness of it, the swollen head that glistens with smeared pre-come.

Heat burns over your skin, and when you look up at Ransom, he’s clearly feeling the same. His cheeks are flushed in patches of pink, his lips red, swollen, and parted as he lets out short, shaky breaths, hair hanging loose and disheveled. It’s more than you hoped for, and it’s disgusting how perfect he looks.

As much as you want to tease, to keep this view while you swallow him down and taste him, your pussy throbs. You promise yourself again to take more time with him later, to lick and suck and taste him the way you want, but you can’t resist at least a taste. You grab his shaft, leaning in to swallow him deeply - just once - and draw a shocked moan from him before pulling off and pushing up from your knees, humming at the taste of him.

“Damn, princess. I thought I was going to ruin you, but fuck, you’re good.” He reaches forward as you’re moving up, his hand grabbing at the back of your head to guide you. He pulls a bit at your hair when you’re back up to the couch and spreading your thighs wide over his. His free hand reaches between your legs swirling through your wet, sensitive slit and pressing the heel of his palm hard against your clit.

“Later,” he promises, “I’m gonna taste your pussy. Gonna lick it all up.” He pulls his hand away and sucks away your juices as they drip down his fingers. The promise is so dirty it makes your breath shake in anticipation. You stare into each others’ eyes, admiring the wreckage between you and moving without guidance to seat yourself on top.

You gasp when you finally feel the hot, hard line of him pressed against your pussy. It feels so thick, and you’re eager to feel the stretch of him pushing inside. You lock your arms around his neck, pushing your breasts together, nipples peaking as they drag along the coarse hair on his chest.

The lips of your pussy spread over his cock, coating him with your slick. His cockhead rubs over your clit, making you shudder and suck in stuttering breath, and that’s it. You can’t take it anymore.

“Can I have your cock?” Deep down, you know you don’t really need to ask.

“Yeah,” he adjusts his hips, scooting himself out a little further to give you more room to settle against him. “You’re gonna fucking ride me, princess. Come all over me.”

“Uh huh,” you breathe out, high and airy.

He takes one hand off you, using two fingers to angle his cock toward you. You lift up on your knees, tipping your hips until you feel him against your entrance. You pause for a brief second to ready yourself, then sink down, taking him all in at once.

The stretch makes you groan, the static-like buzzing mix of ache and pleasure spreading all over and making you throw your head back and deepen the moan.

He huffs out a few quick breaths. “That’s it, oh that pussy is so good. So fucking good, princess,” he mumbles.

Then his hands are back on your hips, warm against the bare skin and strong when he digs the tips of his fingers in to pull you further down, “This cock filling you up? Huh?”

All you can manage is another high-pitched, “Uh-huh,” while you start to roll your hips, barely lifting as you shift back and forth to grind against him, your walls still squeezing him tight.

“Come on, let go, baby,” he whispers, his mouth tight against your ear. Your arms loosen their grip around his neck and you place your hands instead on the muscles flexing at the tops of his shoulders.

You move your knees to get them comfortable and then finally push yourself off him, sliding and gasping as you feel the head of his cock catching just at your entrance again, and after another silent beat, you slide back down, taking his hard length again.

With the space given, he dips his mouth to your breasts, swirling and suckling at your nipples, Harsh, fast sucks followed by quick nips when he catches the hard peaks in between his teeth until you gasp and moan. Only then does he switch it up, his tongue gently rolling over the bud, soothing the stinging ache.

All the while you roll your hips and the burn, the push, the fullness of him inside you is drugging. Your eyes fall closed as you focus on the steadily growing tingle low in your belly.

You start to chase it with slow, dragging strokes, easing up only to drop down and have him bottom out deep inside. It builds fast, making your thighs burn and knees ache as you try to keep your position; one knee has managed to wedge into the corner of the couch and the rhythm needed to build your orgasm conflicts with the concentration needed to keep yourself steady.

“Just take it, babygirl. I got you,” he whispers, feeling your body getting tired on top of him.

He shifts his legs, placing his feet on the ground and pushing up into you, letting you settle on his lap and rock yourself forward and back while his cock stays buried in you. He adjusts his hands to rest just at your tailbone, pressing you steadily against him and giving the pressure needed to your clit when you press against his pubic bone.

Cries start to escape from you, first quiet and breathy, but then building as the air gets pushed out in hard breaths. Your body inches closer and closer to that release, your body hot and burning and there’s a slight moment of too much just before it hits...and then it’s rushing over you - all liquid fire and bliss. You clamp down over him, legs straining over the tight muscles of his thighs.

He pushes up into you, his hands pressing harder at the middle of your back to keep you moving through your release as he works to find his. He hisses through clenched teeth, broken praises coming out on hard breaths.

“Yeah...There...Righthere...God...Fuck.”

When he curls into you, nails digging into your soft skin and breathing heavy against your chest, you know he’s right there.

“Come for me,” you whisper.

“God - yeah!” With one final, hard thrust, he does. You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside you when he releases, his hips jerking up slightly to keep pushing into you while the tense features of his face soften with relief.

For a moment it’s nothing but panting breaths and the racing beat of your pulse in your ears. Then it’s slow, dragging hands across naked skin and muscle, soothing the tense muscles and tickling sensitive spots and whispering praise to the man beneath you while he hugs you tight to him.

His voice is low and quiet as he asks, “Is the mutt gonna be mad that I stole his Valentine?”

“You like me,” you smile against his neck and tease him with a sing-song voice, “And you like my dog.”

“I like you,” he agrees. “The dog’s okay, too.”

“Does that mean Andy should come harass you again on Friday night?”

“I’ll even get a dog-sitter.” He says with a smirk. “Let him know that 7 would be good.”

Tags: @jtargaryen18 @ozarkthedog @wi-deangirl77 @angrythingstarlight @donutloverxo @navybrat817 @saiyanprincessswanie @sweeterthanthis @sagechanoafterdark @tuiccim

#happyhoelentinesday2021 #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x female reader #ransom drysdale reader insert #ransom drysdale fanfiction #knives out fanfiction #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale imagine #valentine's day #soft!ransom drysdale #ooc ransom #he's soft for his girl #that's just how it goes

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pawsitivelymiraculous · 4 years ago

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Damian, the little brother, Dupain-Cheng (Part 1)

I'm backkkk! I explained why this series went on hiatus on this post but yeahhh the Damian Dupain-Cheng series is back and will be posted on it's old schedule (which is every other week) Anyway I really appreciate you guys,, sorry for taking so long and let me know what you think! Comments really motivate me to keep writing.

(I promise I'll add a read more thing and the links tomorrow but I need sleep. for now I'll add the masterlist you can find everything there)

<<Previous Next>>

Ao3 Masterlist

~♡~ Recap ~♡~

Marinette kidnapped/adopted Damian after seeing him with Talia in the Miraculous Café. She gives him the choice between staying with her or a non assassin relative. He chooses to stay in hopes of stealing the miracle box, but since that didn't work he lashed out and tried to kill Marinette and her friends repeatedly. This makes Marinette doubt in herself because she feels guilty about the whole situation. After hearing Marinette cry, Damian runs away confused at the whole situation, but he didn't get far before realizing that he was actually okay with the idea of Marinette becoming his mother. Marinette finds him and they go home. Time passes, they get a dog, Damian grows closer to Marinette and Marinette legally adopts him.

This takes place some time after all of this, like a couple of months.

~♡~♡~♡~

Why am I still in Paris?

Jason asked himself this every day, and yet he could never find the answer.

Maybe it was because he really had nothing else to do. Well besides killing a Bat.

Or maybe it was because being in Paris somehow cleared some of the madness leftover from the Lazarus Pit that clouded his brain.

In either case it seemed like every time he tried to leave, he would convince himself to stay with the lie that Marinette Dupain-cheng was just as dangerous as Talia had claimed she was.

And that his "brother" really was in danger.

Which only led to him tailing after the pair like a complete creep while feeling miserable because who was he kidding? The woman who had taken Damian in was just as dangerous as a basket of golden retriever puppies and Damian would have a way better life living with her rather than with Bruce.

And still he could not f*cking leave.

So he continued to observe from the shadows. Trying to remain invisible.

Which had worked out perfectly fine until that day it seemed, because Jason soon found himself pressed against the cold concrete after being flipped by a woman half his size.

Jason tried to look up, but he felt the heel of a shoe pressed against his head.

"Ow"

"Oh, I'm sorry did I hurt you?" Jason heard a familiar voice say. The only difference was that she was speaking in English with a slight accent rather than French.

How the h*ll did she know that he spoke English?

Jason tried to get a better look at his attacker, but she just pressed down her heel deeper making it very clear that she was not sorry at all.

Marinette leaned down to talk to him. "Look kid, I just want to know why you keep following me. Now we can talk like normal people, or I'll have to be a little… unconventional. So what do you say?"

Kid? Jason couldn't remember the last time he had been called. It was especially surreal coming from such a petite woman who couldn't be older than thirty.

"Now I'm going to let you stand up just… don't do anything stupid."

Stupid seemed to follow Jason because as soon as he felt the pressure on his head lessen, he stood up and ran. The only thing in his mind was getting away from the woman.

He wasn't able to go far though. As soon as he got to the end of the ally they were in, Jason suddenly felt all the muscles in his body grow weak. Everything around him became blurry and for the second time that day, Jason fell down and hit the gravel.

~♡~♡~♡~

Marinette hadn't meant to use a tranquilizer she made from the bee's miraculous venom on the guy. Honest.

But she needed answers, and he didn't seem in the mood to be the one providing them, so she had to do something before he got away.

Marinette did find it strange how he seemed more interested in running rather than harming her in any way. But she could think about that later. For now, she had to do something about the unconscious body on the ground.

First, Marinette tried to drag him back into the ally because she didn't want to risk anyone seeing her. It was ridiculous how difficult it was to move the guy a couple of inches. Even with all the strength she got from being ladybug, Marinette found herself incredibly tired when she finally managed to get to the end of the alley.

There was no way that Marinette could drag the guy to a safe location. Unless… she had the horse miraculous.

Marinette swiftly grabbed her phone and called Adrien while still holding down the guy in case he regained consciousness. "Hey kitty! Are you busy right now?"

"Um no?" He replied cautiously. "Unless you need me to bury a body, then I'm really busy." He would gladly lie to the police and give marinette suggestions on how to get rid of the body, but actually digging a hole sounded like too much of a hassle in Adrien's opinion.

Marinette laughed nervously. "Don't worry it's not a body." She paused "Not a dead one at least" she added under her breath.

Adrien heard her anyway "Marinette."

"I just need you to get the horse miraculous and come here." Marinette added quickly when she heard Adrien's disapproving tone.

"Do I even want to know why you need it?"

Marinette hesitated. Adrien still acted weird around Damian, and she wasn't sure that he would want to get involved with this. "Well I found the guy that was following me" she explained "and accidentally knocked him out" Marinette stopped when she saw a portal open. "And you’re already here, was there no traffic?"

Adrien laughed as he walked out of the portal. "I was already getting the miraculous while you talked." He explained with a shrug then he looked at the unconscious guy on the floor. "Sooo… do you need help with that?"

~♡~♡~♡~

Kagami was already at the café's storage area by the time Adrien and Marinette passed through the portal.

Adrien did a double take when he saw her. "Woah, I literally just texted you."

"You said you found the stalker, and I was nearby, and I figured that you would need help interrogating him." she explained.

"With a sword?" Marinette asked, eyeing Kagami's left hand. "Where did you even get that?"

Kagami smiled. "Yes, and your son has an excellent taste."

Marinette looked at kagami, with a very confused and slightly worried expression. "Wha- when did you go sword shopping?"

Adrien replied instead. "When you asked me to babysit, your little gremlin scares me and gami wanted a sword, so I let him go with her." Then he grabbed a nearby chair and sat the guy in it, and also tied him to one of the stands that held coffee supplies using zip ties.

"You have broken my trust Agreste." Marinette said trying to sound as serious as possible but failing at it. "No, but seriously, let me know next time okay?"

"Yes ma'am"

It took a couple of minutes for the guy to regain consciousness. And as soon as he did, he thrashed around trying to break free from his restraints. Looking around him wildly until his gaze landed on Marinette.

His eyes narrowed. "You" he lunged towards her but was held back.

His attitude was completely different from their first meeting. Before he seemed conflicted and confused. But while he still seemed very confused that confusion was now mixed with rage. Which Marinette could understand, she had just knocked him out and brought him to a strange place.

But Marinette needed answers, the guy was very clearly part of the league, his aura reeked of their darkness, and she was not about to feel sympathy for anyone connected to the league of assassins.

So Marinette held no remorse when she allowed kagami to approach him with her sword after he calmed down a bit.

"Who are you?" Kagami asked threateningly, then raised the blade dangerously close to his neck. "And why have you been following Marinette?"

The guy didn't even flinch. "Name's Jason" then he turned slightly to look Marinette in the eye. "I am Damian's brother," he continued.

Marinette's eyes widened. The room fell silent for a moment.

Jason smirked at his captors' shocked faces as he gave the final blow. "And I'm here to take him to his father."

~♡~♡~♡~ TAG LIST ~♡~♡~♡~

(If you want to be added please let me know)

@elmokingkong @anjuschiffer , @ii-fox-demon , @justcourttee , @tazanna-blythe , @lozzybowe , @idontfuking, @wannajointhecrabcult , @bakergirl13 , @rosalineandrosemary , @art-is-hard-to-do-sorry , @our-preciousss , @consumeconstantly , @jiso-lee , @allthegooddaimenettenamesaregone, @justcourteesuportline , @finallyaniguana , @user00000003 , @whydoexamsexist , @justafanwarrior , @violetfandomaddict, @smolplantmum @fidget-eep ,@cadenceh2o , @justarandomtumblerblog , @ramos123 @iwantasecretidentity @t1dwarrior-of-earth @thesunniestdays @alice-hazelwood

~♡~♡~♡~ PERMANENT TAG LIST ~♡~♡~♡~

@charme-de-malchan , @theatreandcomicfreak , @m3owww, @elliebelliegirl , @genevieve-the-demonologist, @vixen-uchiha , @t1dwarrior-of-earth , @waffleyunsure , @technicallyburninggarden , @azuremayscarlet , @vroomtaka , @emistar0 , @ichigorose , @maskedpainter , @art-is-hard-to-do-sorry , @alysrose-starchild , @jayjayspixiepop , @abrx2002 , @nathleigh , @icerosecrystal , @jumpingjoy82

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #my trash writing #my writing #damian dupain cheng #mominette

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redgillan · 4 years ago

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Under Pastel Skies - 7

Sugar daddy!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Modern!AU Bucky doesn’t need anyone, especially not a sugar baby. He isn’t that desperate… but she smiles so sweetly and she’s endearingly awkward, and he’s so lonely. She’s an artist, a painter, the type of person who always puts others before herself. Throwing caution to the wind Bucky offers her a place to live, a place where she can finally paint whatever her heart desires. He doesn’t need much in return; a friend, a muse.

Word Count: 6,480

Warnings: none

A/N: This is long overdue, sorry - hopefully it’s worth it. It’s also incredibly long... idek anymore. I want to thank you all for your patience and support. It means a lot to me.

Wannabe sugar daddies, don’t interact with this post.

You grumbled into your pillow when you heard your phone buzz on the bedside table. Cracking one eye open, you lifted your phone and squinted to read the neon numbers showing on the screen.

7:12 a.m.

You had an email notification, nothing important, but it somehow managed to come through the ‘Do Not Disturb’ feature. You knew you wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep so you got up and padded barefoot into the kitchen.

A smile curled up your lips when you saw the leftovers from your made-up holiday. There were a few cookies and muffins in a plate, a large bowl of cereals, and two dirty milkshake glasses on the counter.

It had been a fun and relaxing couple of days. You ate, talked, played board games, and watched movies in your fanciest loungewear attire. Bucky sought your touch more than usual and it left you a little confused. Every time he touched you, the line between feelings of friendship and feelings of love became blurred.

Bucky was an early riser, always up before you, dressed in his usual khakis and long sleeved Henley shirts with his hair slightly tousled. He looked effortlessly sexy and always had a warm smile for you even though you looked like a hot mess in your mismatched pyjamas, staggering into the kitchen, blindly following the smell of food cooking on the stove.

Today, the kitchen was silent. Bucky was probably still asleep, so you decided to cook breakfast. Maybe, if you were lucky, you’d catch him in his night clothes.

Wasting no time, you made a beeline for the coffee machine. You filled the water tank and measured fresh grounds into the filter, but your task was interrupted when you heard groans coming from somewhere nearby. You soon figured out that the sounds were coming from the living room.

Curious, you silently made your way toward the sound. The shades were up, and you could see the midnight blue sky fading into pastel hues of yellow and pink with the approaching dawn. Under any other circumstances, you would have been completely enraptured by its beauty, but something else caught your attention.

Bucky was standing upside down with his head on a yoga mat. His eyes were closed and his features were set in an expression of serious concentration. You half hid behind the wall and observed him.

You were impressed, his headstand was perfectly vertical and he was doing it without hand support, meaning that he was supporting his entire weight on his neck. He slowly lowered one toe back down, then the other, before he rested his forearm on the mat and lifted his butt toward the ceiling, his body forming a perfect inverted V.

“You’re up already,” he asked, sitting back on his haunches. “I can hear you breathing behind that wall.”

Busted...

You peeked out into the living room and cringed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you but that was sooo impressive.” You walked into the room and perched yourself on the arm of the sofa, facing Bucky who was kneeling at your feet. “How do you do that?”

He chuckled, his cheeks red from exertion and bashfulness. “Practice. Yoga’s good for building strength.”

He looked up at you with a boyish smile, his hair damp with perspiration. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, rolling too close to his eyes and making him squint.

His pants left little to the imagination, the fabric stretched across his powerful thighs, and his sleeveless shirt clung to his drenched chest, outlining his muscles. Your eyes darted to his left shoulder where his stump was visible.

Despite living with him for over two months, you had never seen him in one of those sleeveless shirts before, though you couldn’t blame him since it was the middle of winter and you hadn’t been wearing any either. It was warm inside the apartment but not enough to walk around bare-armed.

“It’s easier to do yoga when the sleeve isn’t slapping me in the face every five seconds,” Bucky said, looking at his stump. “But I can cover it up if you prefer.”

“No! Of course not,” you rushed to say. “I’m sorry. That was really rude.”

“You were just looking, it’s only natural,” he said. “People are curious. Staring... well, staring is different.” His frown smoothed away and he turned to you with a smile. “Are you hungry?”

You smiled down at him. “Starving.”

“I’m gonna hop in the shower real quick, then I’ll start breakfast.”

“Actually, I was about to start cooking before I got distracted.” Bucky looked away, a slight blush covering his cheeks. “But I think we have plenty of food left over from last night.”

“We’re not eating cookies for breakfast,” he said. “We’ll save them for later. Right now we need something healthy.” He grinned as he pushed himself to his feet and ran upstairs. “I’ll be right back.”

You shook your head at his antics and returned to the kitchen to finish making coffee. After all he’d done for you, it was the least you could do. You knew Bucky liked cooking –and he was damn good at it- but sometimes you wondered if this was a fair arrangement.

He had given you a place to stay, money, food to eat, your own artist’s studio, and you had given him... nothing. Admittedly, you knew that your presence calmed him, comforted him. You gave him the emotional support he desperately needed and it was important, but he could also have adopted a pet.

Too tired for coffee or tea, you poured yourself a glass of orange juice, hoping it would wake you up. It worked but your self-deprecating thoughts were still playing havoc in your mind.

You were fixing Bucky’s coffee when he came back downstairs after his shower, and you were pleasantly surprised to find him wearing a clean sleeveless shirt. You met his eyes and found that he was watching you intently. You offered him a smile and leaned back against the kitchen counter.

“Looking good, James.”

He looked down at his feet with a bashful smile as he crossed the room slowly. You observed him in silence while he prepared breakfast for the two of you. It was a simple breakfast bowl with yogurt, granola, fresh fruits and honey but he somehow made it look like a gourmet dish.

“There you go, angel,” he said, setting your bowl in front of you. “What are you going to do today?”

You took a slice of kiwi and dipped in yogurt. “I think I’m going to paint. You?”

Bucky licked his spoon and you stared at it longingly before you quickly averted your eyes. No, you couldn’t be jealous of a goddamn spoon. Catch yourself on.

“I have an idea for a new book,” he said, running his tongue along his teeth to clean them before he spoke again. “I had a meeting with my agent last week. It went well, my old publisher really wants to work with me again. I’m signing my contract this afternoon.”

“Bucky!” you squealed after swallowing your mouthful of yogurt a little too fast. “That’s amazing!”

“Thank you,” he said, staring into nothing with wide eyes. “I’m nervous, scared and excited at the same time. It’s strange, y’know, all these feelings mixed together. It’s a bit overwhelming and I haven’t even started yet.”

“Don’t think too much,” you said. “You’ve done this before, you can do it again.”

“Yeah,” he replied, smiling.

You scraped your spoon around the bowl and licked it clean. “What’s it about? Is it a novel? Can I be in it?”

Bucky chuckled to himself and you figured that every single writer had friends who begged them to appear in their books. You couldn’t help it, the idea of living forever as ink on a page was too tempting.

“It’s not a novel,” he said. “It’s the third instalment of my series. The style is a little hard to explain but this is what I like to say: self-help book meets Bridget Jones’ Diary.”

“I tried to look you up but I couldn’t find anything written by a James Barnes or a Bucky Barnes.” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. “Are you a fraud? Or are you using a pen name?”

He pretended to think about it. “I’m a fraud.”

“I knew it,” you mock-sighed.

Bucky took your bowl and placed it in the sink along with his. When he started cleaning them, you joined him and took a dish towel.

“I’ll tell you soon,” he spoke after a moment.

“It’s okay, take your time.”

You knew he wasn’t going to tell you what his pen name was, not now at least. His books were a reflection of his struggles, his success, and his fears, and you could understand why he preferred to keep you in the dark for now.

The people who read his books didn’t know him, they were just anonymous faces in a crowd but you were real. You were his friend, his new friend, and your opinion mattered.

“It’s been a couple of years since I’ve published my last book. My agent said that people haven’t forgotten about me but I still have to,” he made air quotes with his fingers, “’show my face’, just to remind everyone that I’m still writing.” He sighed.

“There’s a charity event next month at the museum of Natural History,” he continued. “It’s a huge event, a lot of important people will be there, including some of the most famous gallerists and curators in the country. You’re allowed to say no but,” he paused and turned to look at you, “do you want to come with me?”

You pressed your lips together while you mulled this over. There was no doubt in your mind that it was a great opportunity, one that you would have never had without Bucky, and you knew you had to say yes. But this was your least favourite part of being an artist.

You didn’t know how to sell yourself and you always felt like an arrogant asshat when you spoke about your paintings, even though you had every right to be proud of your work.

You had managed to persuade yourself that this new life would last forever. Eat, laugh, paint, repeat forever. But it wasn’t real. You had to put yourself out there, even if it made you uncomfortable because painting was only half your job.

Something else bothered you. You didn’t want to be the poor, struggling artist who took advantage of a charity event to make herself known. It seemed wrong and hypocritical.

You voiced your concerns to Bucky who looked at you with a pained expression.

“Yes, it’s a fundraiser but I can assure you that everyone at the party will be talking business and exchanging business cards,” he said. “And they’ll compensate with a huge donation to clear their guilty conscience. Is it false philanthropy? Absolutely, and I’m ashamed to say I’m one of them. You’re not taking advantage of a good cause, we are.”

“You’re nothing like them,” you said. “You’re kind and selfless, you’re a good person.”

“I’m not sure that’s true, angel,” he said with a tight smile.

When you opened your mouth to protest, he leaned forward and cupped the back of your head as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, ending the conversation. He had never done that before and you froze, feeling equal parts confused, incredulous and appreciated.

He pulled back and wiped down the sink with the sponge, acting like kissing you so sweetly was something completely normal, like he was unbothered. Meanwhile you just stood there wondering if you would ever be able to breathe normally again.

You pressed your lips together hard and tried to gather your thoughts but your mind was reeling. You were about to leave the room when your eyes landed on a pile of mail on the kitchen counter.

The first letter was a cheesy view of the Tower Bridge, the words ‘Greetings from London’ written in bold cursive letters across the postcard.

You only knew one person who still sent postcards.

Wanda.

“What’s this?” you asked, nodding toward the stack of mail.

Confused, Bucky looked to you then followed your line of sight and saw the mail. “Oh, Natasha dropped these off last night. She wanted to see you but you were already asleep.”

You nodded distractedly while you picked up the postcard. The sight of it filled you with anxiety. Your sister didn’t’ send these postcards often, but every time you received one it reminded you that things were different now. Gone was the happy and supportive family you used to cherish.

Your breath caught in your throat as you read Wanda’s hastily written words.

I’m coming home.

She was coming home. A wave of nausea ran through you and your breathing came shallow and fast.

“Wow, wow, wow.” You felt Bucky’s hand at our waist, steering you toward a chair, and you realized your legs were giving way under you. “Deep breaths, angel. Look at me. There you go!”

“Sorry,” you said. “See what happens when you don’t let me eat cookies for breakfast?”

Bucky smiled at your poor attempt at humour. “Want to tell me what’s wrong?”

You debated telling him but you weren’t sure how to voice your concerns so you handed him the postcard instead. You had told Bucky about Wanda. She had disappeared after Pietro’s death, sending postcards from time to time as proof that she was still alive and well.

“Your sister is coming home.”

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I haven’t seen her for six years. She doesn’t know our mom has Alzheimer, she doesn’t know I sold our old childhood home. She keeps sending those postcards there. I gave the new owners Natasha’s address in case they still receive our mail. They’re very nice.” You let out a humourless laugh. “I had absolutely no idea what I was doing when I sold our house, and they could have taken advantage of me but they didn’t. I guess it’s not every day you buy a family house from a 24 year old girl. It probably screams tragic backstory, uh?”

“You did this on your own?”

“Yup.”

Bucky put his hand on your knee and gave you a comforting squeeze. “I’m sorry you had to go through this.”

You looked down at his thumb rubbing soothing circles just above your knee. “Yeah, it wasn’t easy.” You paused, then raised your head to look at him. “Living with you makes my life so much easier. I live in my own little bubble where I don’t have to be an adult. I feel like I can finally breathe. And I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done for me and all you continue to do.”

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, shaking his head. “We help each other. We’re good together.”

“Yes, of course,” you said with a smile. “But we both know it’ll have to end one day. It has to, one way or another. I want to be more independent, start my career and support my family. I don’t want to rely on others anymore. I want to rely on myself.”

“But there’s no rush, angel.”

“I know, but nothing’s gonna change if I stay in my little bubble. I have to do things that make me uncomfortable.”

“What are you trying to say exactly?”

“I’ll come with you to the fundraiser.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up in surprise but a smile broke across his face. “That’s great! But what about your sister?”

You shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do. She’ll probably go to our old house, realize it’s not ours anymore. If she’s lucky they’ll give her Natasha’s address. I’m sure she’ll have lots of questions but she can’t show up six years later and act like our bond is still intact. I’m not at her beck and call. I’m only responsible for myself and, Bucky, I’m so tired of trying to please everyone. I deserve to live my best life, goddammit.”

“I am so happy to hear you say that,” Bucky said, his smile blinding. “Celebratory cookie?”

“Yes! Two cookies, please,” you replied, out of breath. “I’m slightly freaking out.”

You spent the next couple of weeks planning for the event; painting, taking pictures of your work, posting them on Instagram, searching for gallerists and curators you wanted to work with and cross-checking the attendees.

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but wonder if Wanda was already in New York and if she was looking for you.

“Check this out!” you exclaimed, shoving a business card in Natasha’s face before you pushed past her to get into her apartment. “It’s official, I’m an artist.”

She laughed as she closed the door, her eyes on the card. “Hi, it’s nice to see you, too,” she deadpanned.

“Sorry, hi.”

“Well, looks like you’re all set. When’s the party?”

“Next week,” you replied, taking a seat on you former bed, her sofa. “I’m a little nervous, but also excited. I don’t know, it’s a strange feeling.”

Natasha pinned your business card onto the fridge using a magnet before she opened the refrigerator door and retrieved a bottle of orange juice. She took two glasses from the cupboard and joined you on the sofa.

“But, yeah, I’m ready. I have over two hundred business cards, I know who I want to work with, and I even bought an external battery pack just in case.”

“And what are you going to wear?” Natasha asked before taking a sip of orange juice. You looked at her with wide eyes, panic written all over your face. “You forgot to buy a dress,” she concluded out loud. “Why am I not surprised?”

“With everything going on, I completely forgot I had to... wear clothes.”

“I’m sure James wouldn’t mind seeing you in your birthday suit.” She laughed when you practically shoved her off the sofa. “Come on, I’ll help you look semi-decent.”

You groaned. “I don’t want to go shopping right now. Plus, I blew all my money on business cards.”

“Are you kidding me? It’s freezing outside, I’m not leaving my apartment,” she replied, reaching for her laptop. “You’re going to rent it.”

“Ew,” you made a face.

You remembered the formal wear store where you had rented your prom dress. The place smelled like moth balls and sweat, and the dress had given you a rash. Not a great memory.

“Trust me, I know this is your first but I’m a seasoned veteran. I’ve been to dozens of fundraisers, and I had to wear dozens of designer dresses. Do you even know how much a Saint Laurent evening gown cost? You can’t wear the same dress twice. That’s a big no-no. And it’s not just the dress. You need a clutch, a pair of shoes, jewelry, a coat. You have to rent them.”

“You’re giving me a headache.”

She opened up her web browser and typed in the website address for the dress rental. As she entered your size and budget, it was obvious that she knew her way around the website and you had to admit that it was a lot easier than traditional shopping.

You looked at the collection of dresses, not entirely convinced, when you found it. You instantly knew it was the right one.

You stared longingly at the beautiful wine-red dress, made entirely of velvet. The bodice was cut on the bias, the fabric draping itself elegantly to contour the shape of the model’s upper body. The skirt was long and flowing, and the waist was cinched in with a thin black belt.

You clicked on the second picture and Natasha let out a strangled gasp. The open back was draped at the waist and weighted with a crystal on a golden chain.

The dress gave off 1930s vibes, it was elegant and refined but the back was daring and sexy. It was exactly what you needed. You paired it with a black wool cape, and Natasha offered to let you borrow a pair of shoes, jewellery and a bag.

The dress and coat arrived the next day. The woman who delivered them was kind and polite, she stayed in the kitchen while you tried on the dress. Once you gave the all-clear, she handed you your receipt.

The dress was yours for an entire week.

On the day of the gala, you were a nervous, sweaty mess. Natasha’s clutch was on your nightstand, filled to the brim with business cards. Your hair and makeup were already done. You sat on your bed in your underwear, staring at the dress hanging in your closet.

“I can do this,” you whispered to yourself.

You were adjusting the fabric around your cleavage, making sure everything flowed nicely, when you heard Bucky shouting from the kitchen.

“The car will be there in fifteen minutes.”

You took a deep breath and smoothed your hands down the sides of your dress, the tickling caress of the velvet calming you almost instantly. You reached for the handle, your heart hammering in your chest, and opened the door.

Bucky was standing at the kitchen island, looking down at his phone. He looked up when he heard the sound of your door opening.

“Hey, are you-” The rest of his sentence died on his lips as he froze. He stood there, staring at you, his eyes roaming your body in a manner that could only be called amazement. “You look-” He shook his head as if he couldn’t find the right word.

You looked down at yourself, grinning. After weeks of seeing you in your big woolly jumpers, pyjamas and painting overalls, you could understand why this was a shock. It was one to you as well.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice sounding strangled.

“Thank you.” He stood a little straighter when he noticed you were checking him out. He wore a dark blue suit with black lapels, a white shirt and a black velvet bow tie. You matched. “You look like a real heartthrob in that suit.”

He laughed and looked away, embarrassed. It was your favourite look on him; when he couldn’t maintain eye contact and his cheeks were slightly red and his nose crunched up a little.

“You’re wearing your prosthetic,” you said, noticing the stiff arm and fake hand.

“Yeah,” he replied, looking at his left arm. “This thing itches like hell, but I don’t blend well in a crowd when I’m not wearing my prosthetic. These people know me, they’ll be looking for me. Let’s not make it too easy for them.”

He finished his sentence with a wink and your entire body threatened to spontaneously combust. Do people still wink? Apparently. You walked over to him and briefly stroked his arm before you walked past him to the bathroom.

It gave him a great view of your bare back and the little crystal nestled just above the small of your back. You didn’t see his reaction but you heard his sharp intake of breath.

You left the bathroom door open while you rummaged through your makeup bag, relief flowing through you when your fingers brushed against your favourite lipstick.

You straightened up and looked at yourself in the mirror. Bucky was leaning against the bathroom door frame, observing you. You uncapped the lipstick and brought it to your lips, locking eyes with him in the mirror.

“Don’t worry, I’m almost ready.”

“I’m not worried,” Bucky replied with a mischievous smile. “Please, carry on.”

You rolled your eyes at his sudden smug expression, trying to look unbothered, but you could feel his eyes on you and you willed your hands to stop shaking. Today was not the day to look like Miranda Sings.

“What’s it called?” Bucky asked from the threshold, spellbound.

“No idea, the label has faded,” you said, rubbing your lips together to smudge your lipstick. “It has probably expired by now, my mom gave it to me when I was a kid.” You blotted your lips and tossed the balled tissue into the wastebasket. “She called it ‘Carter Red’.”

You dabbed the lipstick on your lips. “When we were kids, we used to watch her apply her lipstick. We thought she was the most sophisticated woman in the world. When she was done, she’d turn to us and ask ‘Who wants red lips?’ Then we’d leave the house in our matching red lips.”

Bucky entered the bathroom and took a seat on the edge of the tub. “Did your brothers wear red lipstick too?” he asked with a grin.

You laughed. “Pietro did. Scott was more into nail polish.”

“Do you think I can pull it off?”

You turned to him with a wicked grin and waved your lipstick in his direction. He stood when you took a step closer to him. He seemed to enjoy the playful glint dancing in your eyes. You beckoned him closer like some kind of old witch.

“I’m sure you’d look real cute with lipstick all over your face,” you said, taunting him with your tube of lipstick.

Something in his expression changed, darkened, making you feel hot and cold at the same time. His eyes travelled down your face to your lips, then back up to your eyes. “Yeah, I’d really like that,” he spoke so softly you almost missed it.

It was your turn to freeze. You parted your lips to speak but nothing came out, you just blinked hard and stared at him incredulously, waiting for him to explain what that meant. But he never did, and you took a step back.

Did he just...? Did he just try to kiss you? No! No, that’s silly. Why would he want to kiss you? He was just being playful and you simply projected your own desires onto him.

He took a step back too and gave an imperceptible nod. “The car should be here any minute,” he said, smiling. It was a tight smile and you didn’t like it at all. “I’ll let you get ready.”

After he closed the door behind him, you dumped your lipstick back into your makeup bag and took a long look at yourself in the mirror. You looked deflated, miserable. You sighed... the night was off to a great start.

Bucky waited for you while you finished getting ready. You picked up your clutch, slid your feet into a pair of high-heel shoes, and struggled with your cape until Bucky came to your rescue. To your surprise, his smile was genuine again, and it made your heart soar. Maybe you had just misread the situation and he wasn’t upset, offended –or whatever that tight smile was.

The heels were higher than you were used to, but Bucky gave you an arm to hang onto. The sky was already dark when you arrived at the Museum of Natural History. You walked up the stairs and left your coats in the coat-check room before you took a look around the room.

Hundreds of people were milling around the hall, a glass in their hand as they weaved between the jaw-dropping dinosaur skeletons that were on display. You kept your arm linked through Bucky’s and tried not to stare at anyone.

“Be careful,” Bucky whispered in your ear, making you perk up. “Someone once told me that the exhibits come to life after the sun sets.”

“Remind me to stay away from the Biodiversity Hall,” you chuckled. Then you spotted one of the curators you wanted to work with, you let go of Bucky’s arm and squared your shoulders. “Showtime. Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, angel.”

“God, I’m sweating. Is it noticeable?”

Bucky smiled at you. “No, you look perfect.”

You gave him a grateful smile. “Thanks. I hope I won’t make a fool of myself. I hate small talk.”

As soon as you were gone, someone took your place by Bucky’s side. You grabbed a flute of champagne from a passing waiter and made your way over to the curator. You didn’t drink alcohol but the glass made you look like you were part of their little group.

It went horribly wrong; you stuttered when you said your name and everything went downhill after that. While you were talking, he subtly looked around to see if he could find a more interesting person to talk to, which made you stutter even more. Then as you opened your clutch and fished out a card, several others fell at your feet in slow motion.

Between the dress, the glass and the shoes, it was practically impossible to bend over. The curator left and you stood there alone.

“Let me help you,” one of the waiters said. He gathered up your business cards and handed them to you.

You sheepishly took the cards and shoved them back in your purse. “Thanks. Can you take this? I’m not going to drink it.”

“Would you like something else to drink?” he asked as he took your glass of champagne.

“No, thank you. I... I think I’m going to go find my friend.”

You smiled politely at the young man but he had a strange look on his face. He looked like he wanted to say something but hesitated.

“I saw you with Mr. Thomas,” he finally said. “I’m not supposed to talk to the guests but can you tell him I love his work.”

“I’m sorry I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Grant Thomas,” the waiter pressed on. “The writer. I saw you two together.” Then he leaned forward and whispered, “He only has one arm.”

Oh...

Grant Thomas was Bucky’s pen name.

Your face broke out into a huge smile and you started giggling to yourself. The waiter recoiled a bit, confused and a little freaked out. You scanned the room for Bucky.

“Of course, I’ll tell him,” you told the waiter. “He’ll be very pleased to hear it.”

You went in search of Bucky, wobbling around in your high heels, a permanent smile on your face. After walking around for a few minutes, you felt more stable and in control, even going so far as to power walk from room to room.

You found him in the Hall of Ocean Life, entertaining a small group of people. You walked over to him, your heels clicking like typewriter keys. You heard bits and pieces of their conversation as you approached.

“Oh, it’s absolutely lovely,” a woman cooed, a hand over her heart. “Who was your inspiration for your new book, Grant?”

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly when he saw you. You gave him a small wave and he held out his hand in your direction. He introduced you to the group, and while it was strange to hear him say your name, you kept a straight face.

“I’ve looked everywhere for you, Grant,” you told him, emphasizing his pen name. “I should have known I'd find you in good company.”

“Oh, she’s the painter,” the woman said. “Darling, I hope you don’t mind me saying this but-” she extended her arms in your direction “wow!”

The woman next to her looked half amused, half exasperated. “It means you look beautiful in that dress.”

“Oh, she knows what it means, Sylvia.” The ‘oh’ woman swatted Bucky’s fake arm. “Grant, isn’t she gorgeous?”

Bucky looked at you with a fond smile. “Yes, she is.”

“Oh, my heart is about to explode,” the ‘oh’ woman squealed before enthusiastically waving to someone behind Bucky. “Sylvia, darling, take her contact details. We need new blood at the gallery. Please, excuse me, I haven’t seen Michael in ages,” she said, stretching out the last word.

She was gone before you could comprehend what was happening. Her laughter echoed through the room. Oh, I hadn’t seen the back of that dress! Sweet baby Jesus!

You found her whimsical and quite intense but if you had to work for her, you’d probably end up looking like her assistant, Sylvia, who seemed at her wits’ end.

She sighed and opened her leather-bound notebook. There were several business cards attached to the pages with paperclips. You handed her one of your business cards as her boss shouted, Oh, Michael, isn’t this party deliiightful? It was Sylvia’s cue to leave.

“Thank you. We’ll take a look at your work and get back to you as soon as we can. Enjoy your night.”

Sylvia rushed to her boss who was looking around like a lost puppy. When she saw her assistant, a look of relief crossed her face. It was a little over the top but it made you smile.

“So, Grant Thomas,” you said, planting yourself directly in front of Bucky now that you were alone. “Cute name.”

“Agh, I wanted to tell you before the party but...” He shrugged. “How did you figure it out?”

“One of the waiters saw us together. He’s your biggest fan. Said you were talented, humble and devilishly handsome in that suit.”

“The waiter said that?” Bucky asked with a frown as he led you toward an empty corridor.

“I think he has a crush on you.”

“I seem to have that effect on people,” he said, linking his arm through yours.

“So humble.” You entered the Hall of Biodiversity together. “What’s the meaning behind your pen name?”

There was a small pause before he answered. “Grant is Steve’s middle name, Thomas is Sam’s. I wanted to honor them. Steve literally saved my life, and Sam... well, he stood by my side even when we barely knew each other.”

“I’m sure they were touched.”

“Meh,” Bucky said with a grimace. “Steve said it sounded like a fake name, and Sam tried to make me use ‘Thomas Grant’ instead. I think deep down they like it.” He turned his head to look at you. “How did it go with the curator?”

You cringed. “Just to give you an idea, imagine an amateur magician performing at their first show. I was sweating, I stuttered, and I dropped my cards. It was awful.”

He laughed softly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I’m not upset. At least he’ll remember me, right?”

You spent the next couple of hours mingling with a bunch of rich people; most of them were incredibly weird, the others were strangely relatable. You were a lot more cool and collected with Bucky by your side. He always had really nice things to say about you or your paintings, and his words rang true, giving you yet another reason to fall for him.

When you reached the planetarium, Bucky took your hand in his, his eyes sparkling with childlike wonder.

You practically had the place to yourselves, everyone else was either in the Grand Gallery or in the Roosevelt Memorial. Since no one was around, you decided to take your shoes off and walk around barefoot.

You lost track of time, listening to Bucky’s stories about the universe as he guided you along the spiralling walkway.

“We’re just tiny little specks living on a bigger speck, floating around,” he said, gazing up at a model of Jupiter hanging from the ceiling. “Our time here is so limited, our bodies are so fragile.”

“Umm,” you hummed. “At least we’re not at the bottom of the food chain.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, that would be a bummer.”

“Do you know who’s at the bottom of the food chain?” you asked. “French fries. I’m starving.”

His laughter rang out, loud and clear, in the silence of the planetarium. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

You headed for the coat-check room, where Bucky left one of his ridiculously generous tips, and stepped outside, shivering from the cold winter night. You looked up at the stars glistening in the dark sky while you walked the short distance to the fast food restaurant.

You ate your fries in silence as you glanced around the restaurant. It was bright and gave off a friendly vibe. There were several other patrons even though it was almost two in the morning, though you and Bucky were the only ones wearing designer clothes.

Your high heels and clutch rested on the booth next to your hip, and Bucky’s bow tie was tied around your wrist. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a tanned, muscular chest and a smattering of dark hair.

Bucky had removed his prosthetic after you’d found a booth. His fake arm rested on the table, scaring the hell out of the waitress when she came to take your order. Bucky apologized profusely, probably mentally adding another twenty to her tip.

You dozed off in the cab, utterly exhausted, your cheek resting against his shoulder. His arm was draped over your shoulders, his thumb sweeping up and down your collarbone. When you remembered that you still had to remove your makeup before going to bed, you let out a whine and nestled closer to him. He rested his head on top of yours, and you closed your eyes, enjoying his closeness.

A few days later, you told Natasha about the party, and she reminded you to be careful, to protect your heart. She wished someone had given her this advice when she’d met Sam.

It had never occurred to you that Natasha might have feelings for Sam, not because he was an awful person. No, it was quite the opposite. He was handsome and funny, always looking for some kind of trouble. She’d mentioned multiple times that he was really good in bed, which honestly didn’t surprise you.

You knew she liked him, but you didn’t know she liked him.

On your way home, you mulled over the things she had told you. About a block away from your apartment, you took your keys out of your pocket and stared at the little angel keychain, wondering if your feelings for Bucky were real. The line between friends and lovers was definitely blurred but you couldn’t cross it. There was too much at stake, you couldn’t risk ruining your friendship.

As you turned the corner into your street, you spotted someone standing outside the building’s front door. You slowed down, dawdled, so you could observe them.

You couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman, though you suspected a man. They were carrying a traveller’s backpack on their shoulders, blocking your view. Whoever it was, they had a fantastic ass.

They pushed the intercom button, waited a few seconds and pushed it again. When the doors remained closed, they turned around to leave and you came face-to-face with a man with long dirty blond hair, a bushy ginger beard and striking baby blue eyes. You immediately recognized him from the photos you’d seen on Bucky’s laptop.

“Oh my God, Steve!” you exclaimed, startling him.

Part 8

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagines #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel imagine #bucky barnes imagine #redgillan #redgillanwrites

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giorno-plays-piano · 4 years ago

Text

Money, Money, Money Part 1

Pairing: mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader, slight Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: lots of swearing, silly drunk mobs, mentions of alcoholism, parody, Peter is adult, is this a crack fic??

Words: 2578.

Summary: When Steve finds out somebody has stolen their money, Bucky realizes he has to take his ass off the leather couch in his office, finally.

P.S. This is my first attempt to write humor and I’m sorry in advance for everything I’ve written here 😅

_________________

“BITCH, DID I STUTTER WHEN I SAID TO KEEP THAT SAFE CLOSED AT ALL TIMES?”

Allyson massaged her temples softly and let out a groan: if Mr. Rogers continued to yell like that, he would definitely choke soon. This morning he had been pretending to be the death, vengeance and fury, ready to kick the ass of her immediate superior, James Barnes, who acted like he was deaf, unable to pull himself from the couch where he slept after getting drunk as a fish last night. Oh, poor Bucky. Apparently, he fucked things up again if Mr. Rogers stormed into his office like he was getting chased by a 200-pound dog.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, you son of a...” glancing at a pouting man-child with a three-day beard, Steve covered his face with his palm and let out an exasperated sigh, “... respectable woman who would die of shame if she saw you now!”

“Come on, Stevie,” the man yawned, finally moving his huge, muscular body up to sit instead of just laying on the couch since he felt a little guilty Steve was getting all riled up while he just chilled, “why so serious? Yeah, somebody took a bit of cash from the safe, it’s not a big deal.”

Allyson heard everything as if they were speaking right in front of her - Bucky was a real Mr. Cheapo who didn’t want to rent an office with decent walls - and quickly closed her ears, wishing she had taken her earplugs today. Her boss just made a grave mistake, and now both of them were going to pay for it with their eardrums.

“NOT A BIG DEAL? NOT A BIG DEAL, YOU MASSIVE BAG OF DOUCHE?! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH MONEY WAS THERE, HUH?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THOSE MONEY WERE FOR?!”

Seriously, she considered getting a new job, but these free daily standup shows were both tiring and so fucking funny she was afraid she might wet her seat.

“Oh my fucking God, Bucky, I swear I’ll kill you, I’ll... no, I have a better idea!” Steve gave his best friend a dirty look. “I’ll call your uncle. Yeah, you know which one. He’ll be sooo happy to take you drunk ass to jail and then give your mama a call. I bet she has a cure for both your attitude and alcoholism.”

“You wouldn’t do that!”

Suddenly realizing the danger he was in, Bucky quickly got up, almost falling to the floor but holding on the leather chair in the very last second. When Steve talked about calling his uncle, a chief of police of the neighboring town where his whole family lived, it meant things were going bad. Real bad.

“Bucky, it was the part we were going to invest into Pierce’s casino. I have to take it to him tomorrow morning. TOMORROW FUCKING MORNING, DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU STINKING DRUNK?”

“I’m drunk but not deaf, Steve!”

“Oh my God, I’m driving you to a rehab, go gather your stuff right now!”

Allyson sighed, getting up and proceeding to choose the most beautiful cup to fill it with fresh coffee: when their conflicts escalated to threats, it meant her boss would soon start to sweet-talk, apologizing to his best friend and promising to sober up and get things right. Every time she felt like Mr. Rogers would really do something to Bucky, the guy used his natural charisma and charm and got away with anything by just reminding Steve how he fought for his best friend in the dark alleys when Rogers was a sick, skinny kid. It worked every damn time.

There they were again, talking about same things with Bucky swearing on his mother’s life that he will find the money and bring it back to Steve. Usually it meant the threats were coming to an end, and soon Mr. Rogers would open the door and come out red as a lobster, breathing heavily as if he just ran a marathon. There he would see her with a cup of nice coffee with cream and two spoons of sugar just like he preferred, gladly accepting it and saying nobody understand him but her. Then Allyson would smile compassionately, listen to his small talk before he went out the office, and wait until her grumpy boss would fall out the room, reeking alcohol, and ask her what the fuck had happened yesterday.

After that in a couple of minutes things would finally settle down, and Allyson would have a chance to give a call to her best friend.

_______________________________

Your day couldn’t start better: you had finally received your Amazon order - hooray to the stupid makeup tools you would use, like, once a year - and even watched your favorite Netflix series with a cup of a fragrant coffee with marshmallows because it was Sunday and you were finally free from both work and cleaning the apartment. It felt so nice to just do absolutely nothing, laying on your couch with a piece of pizza in your hand. Seriously, even a workaholic like you had to do it more often.

Your lazy morning was interrupted by Peter, a sweet college student who was getting into troubles more often than a drunk in a local bar: you seriously considered calling him Harry Potter after you found him half-naked with a scratch on his forehead standing in the corridor of your building and holding a broom. To protect himself from bullies, he said, by the look on his face you could tell it was as good as a magic wand against 6"4 ft tall guys, seriously.

Since he rented an apartment with other unlucky nerds who had zero skills how to survive in this cruel world, you ended up nearly baby-sitting Peter, patching him up after he was getting in a fight and lending him some money time after time when he struggled to pay rent or buy food. His parents were elderly people with income below average, but they still did whatever they could to give him an education, so you decided to give the guy a hand.

Now that baby was standing in front of you, lit up like a Christmas tree, with a bouquet of wonderful pink roses, big box of hand-crafted chocolates and a whole bag of what looked like some very fine food, even a bottle of champagne clinking inside.

"Good morning, Fairy Godmother! I came to bring back what I owe you!" His smile was a mile wide when he looked at your face, happy to the point he couldn't stand still, dancing like those Duracell rabbits in the tv ad.

"You're up early, Cinderella."

You yawned, laughing when you saw the guy pouting at the nickname you gave him - tf he expected for calling you Fairy Godmother?

"Don't stand there, come in."

When he actually handed you the flowers and chocolates, giving you a quick peck on the cheek shyly, you froze, finally realizing he brought all this for you. Wait, what? Where the heck did he get so much money to buy that expensive stuff? You thought he was helping his other neighbor who was planning to finally propose to his girlfriend. Perplexed to the point you nearly missed that peck, you blinked at tomato red Peter.

"Please don't tell me you robbed your 90-year-old paralytic professor."

"Why don't you ask if I robbed a bank?" He pouted again, putting the bag on the floor and getting a hundred dollar banknote out of his old leather wallet. "I actually came to thank you for everything you've done for me. And I didn't rob anyone! I got a real job!"

"Real job?" You eyed him curiously. "But don't you already have a job in delivery?"

"Pfft, you can't call it a job. It was getting one nasty smelling pizza from one place to the other while looking miserable."

You barely held your laugh, leaving the bouquet and chocolates on the side table and rubbing guy's back. Poor Peter, nobody was giving him a hand - while you couldn't question people's decision since the guy wasn't the most reliable one, it was still a shame he wasn't treated decently as if all of them weren't young and careless once.

Wait, but who on Earth gave him such a well-paid job all of a sudden? He must have spent hundreds of dollars on the bouquet, chocolates, food and champagne, not even counting those 100 dollars he owed.

Oh God.

"Please don't tell me you're working for some shady business." You looked at him in horror, your hand flying to your mouth. "Peter, is it Tony's band?!"

"Jesus woman, why would I work for some stupid mob." The guy rolled his eyes, and you sighed in relief, not knowing what to except from this trouble on two skinny legs. “I’m telling you, it’s nothing bad! I just have to keep it a secret before I get a contract. Once I figure it out, I’ll explain everything, I swear!”

“Alright, alright, don’t stress over it, I’m not your Ma.” Smirking, you went to take a square glass vase you hadn’t use in ages, filling it with water to drop the bouquet inside. “Let’s celebrate it, then! Woah, careful there, give me that bottle until you drop it on my clean floor, I’ve been scrubbing it for hours yesterday!”

_______________________

Bucky still felt like Steve was making too much of a big deal out of it: obviously, it was Tony who went to him at night when Bucky was already drunk like a monkey, celebrating the birth of Clint’s daughter. Nobody else had the courage to steal from him, Steve’s right hand, an ex-soldier who had a reputation of a man killing with the first punch. Not that Bucky ever killed anybody, actually being a ex-trumpet in an army band...

Anyway, the man was heading over to Stark’s Tower, a motel where he and all his guys lived when his wife Pepper was out of town. Pepper had definitely been out of town lately since Tony didn’t call: when she was coming back, Steve and Tony were having a two-day truce with nobody getting in a fight because it was making Mrs. Stark upset, and when she was upset, both Steve and Tony didn’t risk getting out of their holes to face this enraged blonde woman who could make anyone wet themselves with one her glance. If there were anyone killing with just one punch in the town, it got to be Pepper.

As he got closer in his Cadillac that looked like it went through fire and water before being sold to Bucky, Barnes stared at the motel suspiciously: it was strangely quiet with everyone hiding inside, not a man guarding the motel’s entrance. What the hell happened? Tony loved showing off, pretending he ruled over the town, and he would definitely act like a king after stealing Steve’s and his money. It was unbelievable Bucky so nobody welcoming him with a smirk.

Hoping he didn’t use all that money for emptying a liquor store, Bucky parked the car and went to the motel, dying to have some beer: one heartless blonde boss of his emptied his fridge.

“Oh, more drinking partners returning to continue the fun, huh?”

Bucky froze immediately, staring at Pepper who stood in the doorway with a face of an iron maiden. Jesus fucking Christ. She returned to the city way before Tony told him, and it was clear she found him not in the condition she expected to. While Bucky considered whether it was better to run, Tony’s head appeared somewhere behind his wife, and Barnes saw Tony was as drunk as him, if not even more. He could see a huge blue mark from Pepper’s heavy hand on Stark’s cheek.

“Who’s that, honey?” The man asked innocently, earning an enraged glance from his wife, and Bucky thought he should have run. “Hi, Buck! Come on in, it’s ok if you didn’t bring beer even if I asked twice.”

Oh. Something was going on. Of course, Bucky could rat the man out immediately, telling Pepper he wasn’t drinking with Tony yesterday’s night, but he wasn’t such a heartless bastard - by the look on Stark’s face Barnes could see his sweet blonde wifey would beat poor Tony to death with her Dior handbag.

“Sorry, I blacked out for a couple of hours in my car.” He mumbled, bowing his head in respect. “Pepper, such a pleasure to see you.”

“Come on in, alcoholic.” Her gaze was heavy, and Bucky shivered a little, carefully leaving his shoes near the door and scurrying away to the coach where Tony sat, nervously biting his fingers. “Well, do you wanna tell me something, huh? How many hookers have you brought here yesterday?”

Glancing to Tony and back to Pepper, Barnes suddenly realized his frenemy had been so drunk he had no hecking idea whether somebody really brought hookers to the motel - it was a total taboo, but once they got drunk they could barely control themselves. Once they literally woke up to a Santa Claus singing Jingle Bells in the tub in the middle of June because Tony missed Christmas.

Of course, Stark would never slip up the night before Pepper was coming back to town, but, apparently, she didn’t stay with her mom for as long as she planned, and Tony was royally fucked.

“I’ve asked you a question.”

And now Bucky was, too, if he didn’t think of something quick. Of course, he could tell her the truth, but it meant losing Tony completely, and Barnes didn’t want that. A real mafioso should have at least one strong enemy, right?

“I’m sorry, Pepper, but I don’t think there were any hookers here last night.” He said, carefully choosing words. “You see, first, Tony never allows us to. Second, we’re good Christians. We would never invite some hookers when we celebrated the birth of Clint’s daughter!”

As he got silent, enjoying the effect his words were having on Pepper, Bucky looked at the man sitting to his right, watching Tony’s eyes watering: it was definitely God himself who sent Barnes his way that morning, saving his from near death. Nothing would work better than this excuse. Clint and all Bucky’s guys were so drunk to the point they barely remembered what had happened, and it would be easy to convince them Tony and his gang came to see Barnes for something and ended up staying with all of them.

Besides, there was a nice bonus Bucky could add to make it work even better.

“By the way, Clint named her Natasha. That’s also the name of your mom, right?”

By the look on Tony’s face the man realized he was ready to sing.

“How did he know my mom’s name?” Pepper eyed Steve’s right hand distrustfully, but he could tell she was less irritated.

“Oh, you know, he and his wife couldn’t choose the name, so we started saying whatever names we knew, and Tony mentioned Natasha.”

For a second Bucky thought Stark was going to kiss him through excess of joy.

When he finally left the motel, getting his pack of beer given him by lovely Pepper who changed the anger to mercy, Tony ran out of the house after him, giving him a pat on the shoulder and whispering quietly, “I own you one, brother.”

Bucky sighed. Stark didn’t take the money.

______________

Tags: @finleyjayne @alexakeyloveloki @helenaeisenhower @villanellevi @hurricanerin @inlovewiththefictionalcharacters @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @navegandoaciegas @rosalynshields @brattycherubwrites @sllooney @angrythingstarlight @lookiamtrying @buckysbunny @soleil-dor @stargazingfangirl18 @dillybuggg @literate-lamb @cosicas-cuquis @sarge-barnes-sir @buckybarnesplumwhore @jaysayey @megzdoodle @gotnofucks @lux-ravenwolf @iheartsebandchris @ximebebx @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123 @sourpatchspinster

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #steve rogers #peter parker #peter parker x reader #winter soldier #mcu #crack fic #mcu fanfiction

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tanzaniiite · 4 years ago

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05. A Mess

protective [nishinoya yuu x fem!reader]

warnings: being drunk & vomiting

word count: 1.5k

a/n: whattt? a written chapter in a smau?? it’s more likely than you think, enjoy! 😚

series masterlist

Dealing with a drunk Noya was always a struggle.

Yes, you’ve been to several parties with him and even though his drunk antics never failed to put a smile on your face… you did hate the clean up portion of things. Most people became a certain type of way when they were drunk. Y’know the typical; elated, depressed, emotional, flirty, quiet and loud drunks. Yuu was a combination of emotional and loud. The loud portion wasn’t the issue because Nishinoya was naturally loud. The issue was the emotional portion. He became uncharacteristically clingy and very talkative. His favorite topic of conversation was telling the person closest to him how much he loved them. Although it was endearing at first it can get real annoying, real fast. But then again, you were used to drunk Nishinoya whereas Kenma was not.

“H-h-h-heyyy Y/n! Did youuuu know–“ Noya slurred, poking your arm, “– that I love you sooo much” He claimed, giving you a drunken smile. You smiled slightly and patted his head as he snuggled into your side. “Yes Yuu, I know. I love you too” You replied, making eye contact with Kenma through the rear-view mirror. He gave you a tired look that you returned with a sheepish smile. “Sorry” You mouthed, continuing you to pet Noya’s head softly.

The plan was originally to just lay Nishinoya on the backseat and you were going to sit in the front with Kenma. But Yuu insisted that you sit in the back with him and proceeded to cry when you tried to sit in the front. The blonde just shook his head before focusing his eyes back on the road.

“Your friend is a mess”

He deadpanned, glancing at the GPS that had Nishinoya’s address inputted in it. Before you could even respond, Noya shot up, successfully hitting your chin in the process. “Ow..” You muttered, feeling your mouth fill with a metallic-like taste. “I-I’m not a mess! Mayyybe you’re the mess! Yeah, you’re the mess” Yuu huffed, crossing his arms like a two year old that didn’t get their way. Kenma sighed inwardly, “Sure buddy” He responded, not really paying your drunk friend any mind. You, on the other hand, were quietly suffering with your now-sore tongue.

“How long till we get there?” You asked, trying not to irritate your tongue too much. “About 10 minutes.. you staying with him or do you want me to drive you home?” Kenma asked. You contemplated on that for a bit, you were going to just get him into bed and then head home but with how clingy he was now that wouldn’t be easy. Plus you’ve spent the night with Noya plenty times before, what’s one more? “Uh, I’ll stay with him. I’ll just head home in the morning” You answered. Kenma raised an eyebrow at you, “Really? Even after he drunkenly confessed to you?” He asked, genuinely curious. You looked down at Yuu who was fast asleep on your lap. “Yeah, he’s still my best friend. I don’t want him choking on his own throw up or going through a massive hangover by himself,” You looked at Kenma through the rear-view mirror again, “I’ll be fine” You stated, confirming his real suspicion.

“If you say so”

Golden light streamed through the windows causing Noya to groan loudly. Opening his eyes blearily, he quickly closed them back due to sunlight being directed right in his eyes. Rolling over to get away from the brightness, Yuu squeaked as he was met face to face with a sleeping you. For a moment, he thought he was hallucinating. You could have hangover hallucinations, right? But that crazy theory went out the window when he saw your nose twitch in the cutest way possible. As he looked you over, you were in the same clothes that you were in last night. He furrowed his eyebrows, wondering why you didn’t just wear one of his shirts.

Then it dawned on him that you were suppose to be at the party with Oikawa, so why were you here with him? Did something happen? All his memories from last night were incredibly hazy and trying to remember made his throbbing headache even worse. So he decided to let it go for now. Sitting up slowly, trying to be courteous of your sleeping form, Noya noticed he was in nothing but his boxers. …why the hell was he only in his boxers? Did you guys… no because your clothes were still on. Wait! What if you guys.. dry humped or something? He remembers a classmate saying that they did something like that once in a drunken stupor.

Noya shook his head to dispel those thoughts. You were dating Oikawa and you didn’t even see him in that way, of course nothing happened. No matter how badly he wanted it things to be different. Letting out a dejected sigh, Yuu got up and stretched while heading over to the blinds to shut out the sun.

“Morning sleeping beauty”

The short man jumped, startled, quickly turned to face you. His heart got caught in his throat as you looked up at him from your spot on his bed. Man, he had it bad. “Hey bestie” He chirped, forcing a smile. He would have to wallow in sorrow about his one-sided crush another time. You giggled and sat up, stretching your arms as you did so. “You’re awfully chipper for someone with a hangover” You acknowledged, nodding towards his desk, that had a cup of water and aspirin. Noya gave you a sheepish smile and took the aspirin. Sitting next to you, he leaned his head on your shoulder.

“You’re a life saver”

“I know, what would you do without me?”

‘I have absolutely no idea’ He thought, fiddling with his fingers. The two of you sat in a comfortable silence, you were checking your phone and Yuu couldn’t help but notice the look of distress on your face. “You okay?” He asked, looking at you. You shut your phone off and tossed it to the side, nodding slightly. “Okay, here’s a question I’ve been dying to ask: why am I in my boxers?” He inquired. He watched you grimace before answering, “When Kenma dropped us off, you threw up by the entrance of the dorms. It got all over your clothes” You responded, looking very disgusted.

Noya looked just as disgusted, if not, more so. “Ugh, sorry about that” He apologized. You waved your hand dismissively, “It’s fine, this isn’t my first time taking care of you and it won’t be the last. Just don’t throw up on me, ‘kay?” You proposed, holding out your pinky to him. “I’ll try my best” He promised, locking his pinky with yours. Looking around the small dorm he noticed Tanaka wasn’t here, “Did Tanaka come back last night?” He asked.

You shook your head, “No, but I think he’s with your friends Daichi and Sugawara” You replied. Nishinoya’s blushed a bit at what he was about to ask next, “So, uh, so why did you sleep with me? Y’know.. instead of in Tanaka’s bed?” He inquired, desperately trying to cool his flushed cheeks. But you didn’t even seem to notice as you started laughing. “Because you wouldn’t let me go, I think you’ve forgotten how clingy you get when your drunk Nishi” You explained, still laughing.

Now Noya couldn’t tell if he was blushing from embarrassment or the cute nickname you gave him that was solely used by yourself. Suddenly a bunch of ping!’s erupted from your phone, you picked it up and looked at the messages. Catching a quick glimpse at your phone, he noticed they were all from Oikawa. Yuu frowned slightly, ‘Possessive much?’ He thought. But he quickly dropped the frown as you turned back to him. “I should get going.. Oikawa’s getting worried” You explained, getting up from his bed.

“It’s only 10:53, it’s still early. Don’t you want breakfast or something?” He asked, he really didn’t want you to leave. You shook your head slightly, “No, I’m good. I’ll eat later” You declined, putting your shoes on. Noya got up and scrambled to find some clothes, “Well at least let me walk you back to your dorm. Nobody’s out this early, it could be dangerous”. You chuckled softly and placed a hand on Yuu’s shoulder. “Nishi, I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be alright. My dorm isn’t that far from yours. Plus you have a hangover and need to rest” You say, pushing Noya back on his bed. “But–“ He started. You hugged him and Nishinoya prayed that you couldn’t feel his rapid heartbeat. He restrained pulling you back to him as you pulled away.

“I’ll text you the minute I get home, okay?”

…

“Okay”

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katnissmellarkkk · 4 years ago

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Okay, here we go! Imma do my liveblog of The Hunger Games, Chapter One, for #THGagain :

I’ll put my thoughts underneath the cut so I don’t clog up the dash 🥳

Okay but right off the bat, Katniss says her mattress cover is rough 🥺. I don’t know, this just made me sad all of a sudden.

So okay, but the fact that Prim had a bad dream and climbed in with their mother? I don’t know if that indicates that Prim still sees their mother as a source of comfort whereas Katniss can’t let herself feel the same way or if it’s just because she didn’t want to wake Katniss.

Maybe it’s supposed to be that Prim is too naive to understand that their mother is mentally fragile? Since in Mockingjay, she says “I know there’s only so much mother can hear,” or something like that, as a way to prove she’s not a little kid anymore sooo. I don’t know. Just some thoughts.

Katniss is shady towards mama right off the bat 🤣. Katniss is shady no matter what though. It’s what makes her narration sound like a teenage girl.

If Katniss is so anti-social though, who’s telling her her mother was once beautiful?

As a cat lover, I take offense to Katniss’ insults to the poor one eyed furball 😭.

So coal miners are also women? I suspected as much but I didn’t realize it was explicitly stated? So if Katniss’ life had gone differently, would she have become a coal miner?

So none of the houses in Twelve get electricity outside of a couple hours a night? Or just in the Seam?

I always forget that Katniss had nightmares even before the games 😔😔😔. Nightmares of her father “being blown to bits.” She has a vivid way with words.

Her father made her bow 🥺🥺. I knew that. I just thought I should mention it again. She uses the bow her father handmade throughout the series 🥺.

Also she says Peacekeepers turn a blind eye to “the few of them who hunt”. A few is more than two. Who else besides Katniss and Gale go hunting?

I like that she randomly starts mumbling to herself 🤣🤣🤣

Once upon a time, Katniss was outspoken apparently. But she mentions that she has to hold her tongue even at home because Prim may repeat her words. I don’t know why, but Prim seems immature for twelve years old. At twelve, in today’s society, you’re going into sixth grade. A sixth grader should know how to keep a secret or hold her tongue.

Gale says she never smiles but in the woods but isn’t that the only place they really spend time together? 🤣

“I kind of liked that lynx but I liked the money I got for it’s pelt more” 😂😂😂

An arrow inside bread. How fortuitous 😭😭😭

I do love that Katniss’ first introduction of Gale is “he could be my brother”

“But we’re at least not that closely related” 🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

“Katniss, get off your cousin”

Even though the merchant class is smaller

Meaning they’re even more inbred

And Katniss is half merch-

Okay I’m done with this line of thinking 🤭😅

So backwoods 🤣

So did Mrs. Everdeen’s parents disown her? Or what? Do they still own that apothecary shop? Does Katniss occasionally walk by her grandparents in the town square? Like I’d like more context here, Suz 🙃

Aww, I always feel so bad for Katniss when she talks about her mother abandoning her 😭😩🥺

“But to be honest, I’m not the forgiving type” me either. Me either 🤧.

This may be why I so closely relate to her when she’s angry.

And why when people in the book say she needs to be more forgiving (ala Haymitch) I’m like “no”

I’m sorry but on second glance (more like 8th glance because I’ve read this chapter since I was 16) it’s so obvious Gale was hitting on her here 😅.

She’s oblivious 🤣🤣🤣

As she should be 😆

So later on, in the second book at least, Katniss definitely has some high respect for Hazelle Hawthorne. But here it seems to be like she’s implying Hazelle and her own mother are useless without her and Gale, and like they wouldn’t be able to provide for themselves. Maybe Hazelle just wasn’t fleshed out to Suzanne when she wrote the first book, the same way the love triangle you can tell if you look is sort of just tossed in there in the first book too? Anyways, just a thought.

That line about Prim being the only person Katniss is certain that she loves is sweet (it’s actually one of my favorite lines in the series) but it’s also so shady at the same time 😅😅😅. Like girl, you’re not sure if you love your mother or even your best friend (in a platonic way)?

Katniss makes a point in mentioning it took a long time for her and Gale to become friends. And I feel like that has been simplified a lot along the way, but it never really sounded to me like Katniss and Gale were besties for as long as most people think. The movies are a lot to blame for this, I know.

I don’t actually think Katniss is truly jealous here of the other girls wanting Gale? I feel like if she were she would have unconsciously insulted the school girls who were into him instead of just outright saying she was jealous, just not for romantic reasons. But who knows 🤷🏼‍♀️.

It was already mentioned earlier but I think Suzanne made a continuity error here, when Gale and Katniss mentioned fishing at the lake. The lake is a place Katniss explicitly mentioned in Catching Fire, to be private between her and her father. She even specially said she never took Gale there. I feel much better about my own writing continuity errors now.

Okay, both Katniss and Gale are so dumb. I would never prepare a feast for after the reaping. They’re just jinxing themselves. I have OCD really bad no one come for me.

I like how The Hob is a black market that’s literally just sitting in broad daylight 🤣🤣🤣.

Katniss just referenced being attacked by dogs... um I’m sorry, do we have no fear of rabies in this universe? 😭😭🙃🙃😐😐😅😅

Katniss : “me and the mayor’s daughter aren’t friends, we just hang out all the time at school, eat lunch together, sit by each other and are always partners. But weren’t not friends.” 🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️🤦🏼‍♀️

I like the mention of hair ribbons for the rich girl. This is just the fic writer in me seeping into my reading.

Gale and Madge’s little dispute ...

I see why they get shipped together 😅. They’re both just taking swipes at each other here.

Awww, Katniss sticking up for Madge, even though Madge is the privileged one 😭. Katniss has such a pure heart.

The entire point of the Madge/Gale interaction though was just to set up the class divide explanation in Katniss’ head to the reader.

But my Peeta centric heart also picks up on the comments in Katniss’ head of how unlikely it is to be chosen at the reaping when you’re a town kid.

In other words, Peeta had a slim to none chance of being chosen and still was.

Now I think of it, so was Prim...

That was just an unlucky reaping for the kids without tesserae 🙃

Also it reminds me of every fic I ever read that mentioned a conspiracy in the reapings and how the kids aren’t actually chosen at random but anyways I digress

I feel Gale though, with the whole idea of knowing something isn’t this person’s fault and there’s nothing they could do but still being so angry at them because it isn’t fair that you have to suffer and they don’t.

My anger issues are really showing 😅😅😅.

Honestly though, if Katniss is saying Gale on a normal day is rational about the class divide not being merchants faults, then clearly his issues with Peeta later on really were just of jealousy and not because he was a merchant vs Seam.

I just feel like I’ve seen that around and I’m not really convinced

In my interpretation of the character, Katniss’ reasons for not sharing in Gale’s rage comes from exhaustion after a lifetime of powerlessness. Some people (re: females more often) just get worn out about the things they cannot change and can’t even let it get inside their brain because there’s nothing they could do about it.

I mean, she is a more understanding person than Gale but I feel like so much of her character is already so tired right from chapter one.

Okay, just a pointless rambling thought

“Where something pretty” these children are so shady 🤣🤣🤣 that’s a line I would say though

The fact that her like 42 year old mother still fits in a dress she wore at like 20 is really a testament to how hungry they are 🤧🤧🤧

Okay but I’m not trying to pick on her mother, but when they were starving, why did either she or Katniss sell the fancy clothes from her apothecary days? I’m nitpicking I know. I’m a nitpicker.

Also good for Katniss trying to forgive her mother.

God knows how hard it is for me to try and forgive people.

Literally, God knows.

I like that Katniss didn’t disagree with Prim saying she’s beautiful, just that she doesn’t usually look this way 😂😂😂.

I just know my sister wouldn’t let me not take tesserae if this was us. She’d be like “you’ll be fine, four entries? Please. We can have more food for an entire year, don’t be selfish.” 😅😅😅

I feel like noting that Katniss and Prim’s age gap isn’t that significant? Four years? That’s not that large. Not even at 12 and 16.

They herd these children off like they’re .... pigs going to a slaughter... 🤭🤭🤭

Katniss casually stating “I could be shot on a daily basis” 😐😐😐

Katniss and Gale agreeing they’d rather be shot than starve is honestly so sad but lowkey sounds like something two teenagers would say. They should have put dialogue like this in the movies.

I didn’t even remember District 12 has 8,000 people.... why’d I think they only had 3,000????

I need to update some of my fics with this information

Katniss just said “televised by the state”. I’ve never heard her call any region a state before?

I like that Katniss calls Effie’s grin scary and white, because tons of people (i.e me) whiten our teeth in today’s society. And to Katniss and probably all of Twelve that’s creepy. I think it’s weird to Europeans too but l digress.

Also do the people in this district brush and floss, they never seem to mention it in the books, ya know?

Honestly the idea of the hunger games sounded cooler without Songbirds and Snakes telling us it was just some dumb guy’s idea that no one ever thought would come true.

Aww, sugar is a delicacy 🤧🤧🤧

I knew already that but lemme fully feel that sentiment for a moment okey

Umm I’m sorry, did Mayor Undersee just casually state Lucy Gray Baird’s name every year and we never knew it? Did Snow just allow this? Seems suspish

Also the idea of Katniss being her distant relative and hearing the name and not knowing the connection... and yeah, anyways. I got wayyyy ahead of myself and off track sorry

Why would Haymitch hug Effie? I’m sorry, but Hayffie having a secret affair at some point in all the years they worked together seems more likely than I thought.

I mean, Katniss never mentions Haymitch hugging anyone besides her and Peeta when they just almost died, are about to die or that one time Katniss was sobbing because she thought Peeta was gonna die.

You know what though? I like that at this moment, when the name is about to be announced, Katniss worried about herself. She spends so much time worrying for her sister, babying her sister, mothering her sister, she deserves ten seconds of worrying for her own safety.

Of course, said sister is the one chosen. Ironic considering the whole encounter with Madge.

Okay, I think that concludes my thoughts for chapter one of The Hunger Games!

#thgagain #I’m not tagging anything else because this is so long I’m so sorry if anyone tries to read this mess 😅😅😅😅😅🤧🤧🤧🤧

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samwinchestersgf · 4 years ago

Text

obsession (part three)

prompt: “oh my god! he’s obsessed with you!”

warnings: horror, gore, obsessive weirdo, protective sam. language. nothing worse than what’s in the show, but still unsettling

read part one (here) and part two (here)

another cold slice of the blade makes me thrash in my seat. i could give up. i could give him what he wants, but that wouldn’t end the pain. besides, external pain in easier to deal with than internal pain.

my head slumps and my chin is almost touching my chest. bryan tilts my chin up with the knife. “you can always just tell me you love me, not sam. this can all stop.”

“it seems like you’re enjoying this too much. i’ll pass.” i glare.

i cry out as he cuts through my jeans for the fourth time. he yells, “say it!”

“go to hell!” i yell back.

he lowers himself, so that he’s eye level to me. “darling, it’s been a day. sam isn’t coming. so, you can either keep wasting both of our time, or admit that you love me.”

“i’m not a liar.” my voice is pure venom.

he grabs me by my cheek. “so say you love me.”

i spit at him. he wipes the spit off of his cheek and walks away, his hands behind his head. “i don’t know what to do with you.”

“you could let me go.” i propose.

“and have to go to the police, no way.” he scoffs.

“you’re really amateur at this.” i remark.

“i’ve never fucking kidnapped someone before.” he pauses. “i’ve never felt this way about someone before.”

i look at him pensively. “i don’t know if you know this or not, but this is not normal.”

“being in love in normal,” he argues.

“it’s beyond that, now. you’re not in love with me; you’re obsessed with me.” i correct.

“is there really that big of a difference?” he rolls his eyes.

“huge difference.” i laugh.

he pulls up a chair. “teach me.”

“teach you?” i raise an eyebrow.

“teach me the difference.” he demands again, sitting down.

“well, first of all, when you love someone, you don’t speak to them like that.” i start, deciding to play along. “because you’d never hurt them on purpose, even if it was for their own good.”

“you’re making things up,” he scoffs.

“i’m not. when you love someone, it hurts you to see them in pain. so, if you love someone, you learn to let them go.” i tell him.

i remember back to the time i had to let someone go. sam liked this other girl, and even though it killed me, i stayed quiet. sure, it was partially because i didn’t have the nerve to do anything else, but even if i did, i wouldn’t have. he was happy. i consider telling bryan this story, but it would only make him mad.

“what does being in love feel like?” he asks.

“calm.” i answer. “you can still get butterflies, but being in love with someone means you’re comfortable enough around them to be yourself.”

bryan raises an eyebrow, “are you in love with sam?”

i laugh darkly. i feel my mental walls breaking. it’s been a day. it’s dark, and cold, and dusty. warm, red liquid is everywhere, and i taste copper. i don’t have the energy to keep fighting.

“sam isnt even my boyfriend.” i blurt. “we’re not in love yet, but i love him.”

“you lied?” he stands up.

“yes, i fucking lied. i’m stupid enough to get into a stranger’s car, but i’m not stupid enough to let him think i’m single.” i laugh again.

he cuts my hand. “that’s for lying.”

“cut my tongue out.” i roll my eyes.

“that’s disgusting.” he drops the knife and walks away.

“what? am i too much for you now?” i call out.

“yes! you’re too fucking much for me right now.” he blows up. “it wasn’t supposed to be like this!”

“love isn’t all roses, bryan.” his name is like belladonna.

“well, it’s gonna be. you’re gonna crack, okay?” he yells.

“can you put up with me that long? i can be more annoying, just wait.” i match his volume.

“i don’t know! will you shut up?” he rubs his temples.

i hum, “you don’t love me.”

he marches over and grabs my face roughly, slamming his lips against mine in the most unpleasant way. i stay still, not breathing, not blinking, not moving, until he pulls away. it doesn’t feel anywhere near the feeling i had when sam kissed me.

“why won’t you kiss me?” he looks offended.

“you fucking cut me.” i scoff.

he pinches his nose. “i’m not patient enough for this.”

“let me go?”

“or i could just leave.”

“further proving my point that you don’t actually love me.” i call out to him.

“i do love you, and i always will. i want you stop saying i don’t, because you don’t know how i’m feeling.” he blows up again.

i shake my head. i can’t even respond to him anymore. i’m tired, and cold. i’m starting lose hope. i’m starting to lose faith in sam.

he picks up the knife again, sighing. he lazily runs in across my left cheek, making the two gashes that are already there sting even more.

suddenly, i can hear sirens. i lift my head up and look at bryan. “think they’re coming here?”

“you better hope they aren’t.” he knicks my jaw.

the sirens grow closer and closer, until it’s evident that they’re right outside. bryan freezes, dropping the knife. he looks around, frantic. there’s a door behind me, but he’s not that stupid. he knows they’ll catch him.

“what are you gonna do, buddy?” i ask, smug.

“shut up!” he shouts, “i can’t think!”

the door is kicked down. a swarm of police officers walk in, catching bryan red handed. “hands up!”

he throws his hands up. “i can explain.”

“step away from the girl!” the police officers shout.

i let myself relax a little bit, until bryan speaks. “i was just coming in here to save her.”

“is that true, ma’am?” they ask.

“no.” i say coldly.

the police whisk him away, and emergency responders rush in, untying me and helping me outside. the bright sun outside makes my eyes sting and water. in the corner of my eye, i see sam stand up and get out of his car. they walk me over to him.

“do you think we need to take her to the hospital, mr. winchester? she’s not in any medical danger.” one emergency responder asks.

“i’ve got her, thank you.” he nods. he slips his arm under my shoulders and helps me into the passenger seat of his car.

he doesn’t speak until the door is shut. his voice is tender, and quiet. “what did he do to you?”

i can’t even look at him. “nothing too bad.”

“you’re exactly like dean...” he shakes his head, huffing gently. i want to respond, but i don’t know what i’d say.

“i’m-“

“don’t say your sorry.” he stops me. “just stop.”

i shake my head and sigh. the buzzing of the engine and the low hum of the radio lures me dangerously close to falling asleep. my body dares me to try to stay awake, but i decline. i let my body have what it wants. i sleep.

—————————————

“ah... damnit.” i hiss, eyes still closed.

“i was hoping you’d stay asleep for this part.” sam remarks quietly.

“i’m fine, i’m fine.” i open my eyes and look down at him. he’s cleaning the cuts on my legs with alcohol, and damn, it hurts. “we... we obviously need to have a conversation.”

“do you really want to do that now?” he raises an eyebrow, not pausing.

“might as well rip off both bandaids at once.” i joke. “go ahead, yell.”

“i’m not gonna yell.” he states calmly.

“you want to.” i insist.

“i don’t want to yell,” he restates. “are you gonna listen if i don’t?”

“i’ll listen.” i nod quietly, taking a sharp inhale when he starts cleaning the next wound.

“i care about you, so, so much. i thought you understood that.” he doesn’t look at me yet. i remember two nights ago when he kissed me.

“i understand it, sam.” i respond.

“then, why would you go out and do something reckless like that? do you have any idea how terrified i was all day?” his voice breaks. “i tracked your phone to his house, and i tracked it to that abandonded place, and the whole time, i was terrified.”

“i’m sorry, sam.” my chest drops.

“why did you do it?” he asks, bandages a cut.

“i wanted to let him know that i wasn’t gonna talk to him anymore,” i swallow.

“you couldn’t have texted him? or, waited for me get home? or, hell, at least have told me where you were going?” he questions.

“i wasn’t thinking,” i admit.

“i know that,” he sighs and finally looks up at me. “i’m not even mad.”

“it would be easier if you were,” my voice breaks in sync with my heart when i see his eyes. his expression is hard, but there’s a hint of softness and worry that makes me want to crumble.

“i already have someone in my life that is stupidly brave, y/n.” he drops his cleaning supplies and grabs my hand.

i squeeze his hand ever so slightly. “yeah?”

“i... i don’t want you to be that person. i want you to be cautious.” he rubs my hand with his thumb.

“that’s just not me.” i swallow.

“i don’t wanna lose you. i just got you; i can’t lose you.” he reiterates.

i sit all the way up. i hesitate, my eyes flicking from his eyes to his lips, and in one swift motion, i close the distance. despite the butterflies in my stomach, i’m calm. i pull back quietly, letting out a slow breath.

he doesn’t say a word. we both already know what he’s thinking. he’s extra gentle when he resumes cleaning my wound. when he’s finished, he just looks at me for a second, and then gets up to go put the supplies away.

nerves course through my. i clear my throat and call out. “sam?”

he turns around. “hm?”

“don’t leave me.” i shake.

he walks back over and wraps me in a tight hug, kissing my forehead. “i won’t.”

—————————————

thank you guys sooo much for the overwhelming support on this series! if you like what you see, you could go ahead and follow me ;)

here’s my tag list for this series!@patrickfluegers @vicmc624 @vampire7595 @heyyy-hey-babyyy @eternal-maniac

#sam x reader #sam winchester x y/n #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester one shot #sam winchester #sam and dean #sam winchester imagine #supernatural #supernatural imagines

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simsadventures · 5 years ago

Text

Not Me: Chapter 4: More of This

CEO! Bucky x Wife! Reader

Summary: You finally have enough, and do the thing that you feel like will help you take matters into your own hands. In the meantime, Bucky is finding out things he never knew would be true, and some new issues appear.

Warnings: angst, confusion, swearing

Word Count: 2608

A/N: New chapter is finally here. Again, sorry for the delay, hope some of your questions will be answered after this chapter, and there is sooo much more coming!! Love you all guys!! xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

A week went by before you were able to function as usual. You and Bucky didn’t share any more moments at home, like the first day of your sickness, and, as a matter of fact, you didn’t even see him that much that week. You assumed he was at work, or at one of his bitches’ place. And you didn’t even care anymore. All you cared about was to finally do something for yourself. You’ve had enough of the abuse your father and Bucky put you through, and you were ready to free yourself.

You still wanted to work at Barnes & Clark, because it was something you’ve always wanted to do, but you knew you would have to give it time before it was even a possibility. So the first logical step was to find a place on your own. You didn’t want to share a living space with James anymore.

And although you haven’t work for some time, you also didn’t spend your own money during the marriage, so you could rent a place on your own without further issues. You knew you would be able to afford only about 6 months of life without a job alone in an apartment in New York, but you were also confident that with your background it couldn’t be that difficult to find another job if Barnes & Clark weren’t an option anymore.

You came across a studio in Brooklyn, and although the location wasn’t the greatest, the apartment itself looked cosy and warm, something you couldn’t say about your current house. You got in touch with the real estate agent, and when she showed it to you, you fell in love with it.

The whole process only took another week, and so it only took around two weeks after the house party for you to start doing your own thing. Bucky was still nowhere to be found, and if you heard him coming home, you scurried to your own room, not really having the energy to fake smiles in front of him anymore. Not when you had such a great plan on your mind.

Your father tried to reach during all that time, but you didn’t want to listen to him anymore. You only picked it up two more times, to listen to him scold you for something he remembered about the party, and whenever he’d ask about you and James, you would say that everything was perfect and that you resolved the issues, naturally, and you were a good wife once again. Just like he liked.

You wanted to tell James, just for the old-time sakes. To tell him that you couldn’t do this anymore and that you wanted a divorce, and that you were moving out. But he was nowhere to be found, and he didn’t pick up his phone. You wanted to be worried, and you would if he didn’t do that for the last 12 months- ignoring you every way he could. So you just sighed and picked up the last boxes on the floor, and marched out of the house, ready to start a new chapter in your life.

Bucky was exhausted. Between doing his normal job, trying to keep the company up and running even in the darker times for the economy, and trying to find any evidence that you were either behind or not involved in the things going on in his life, there was very little me-time he was getting. He rarely even came back home, he would just stay in his office where he used his sofa as a provisional bed. And it showed on his back which was hurting like the devil himself. But he knew he couldn’t stop now.

There were things that needed his attention more than himself. He could get a good sleep when this was all over, one way or another.

Bucky had a board meeting that day, and he honestly couldn’t imagine worse days than that. Board meetings were not only dull as fuck, but Bucky also hated to explain himself for the decisions he made. He knew he made them with the company’s best interest in mind, and even though they sometimes didn’t go as planned, Bucky would all make them again, if he had the chance.

When he came into the room, the board was already there. The board consisted of a few investors that have been with the company for years now, the director of the sales who was there more as moral support to Bucky and then his and your fathers. Even though they were both retired by now, they still held onto some percentage of the interests of the company, and so they were always there at the meetings.

At first, Bucky thought they were there to make sure that Bucky wasn’t doing anything stupid and that he was keeping everything in line. But the more time passed, the more Bucky started to notice that some questions and some ideas coming from your fathers weren’t as straight as Bucky would have wished. But he always ignored it, thinking the dads were just giving him a hard time in those meetings for the sake of it.

The meeting was mostly all about a potential deal they could strike with a Japanese publisher, that would help them distribute their books in Asia as well. Bucky saw it as a huge opportunity and was all in, but the longer the conversations went, the more obvious it was that the fathers weren’t too excited about it.

“We could publish them ourselves. All it takes is for you to grow a pair and decide that we build a publishing house there as well. What are you afraid of, son?” Mr Barnes asked Bucky, who was staring at him as if he just fell out of the sky.

“Because that would take too many resources and we cannot be sure we would do well there. Wouldn’t it be better if we signed a short-term deal with this buyer, we would see how it’d go over there, and if the profits were as great as you think they will, we could do all that? I don’t see a fucking point in building something so fucking expensive when we don’t know if it works or not,” Bucky hissed, clenching his fists under the table.

“Alright, let’s vote, if that’s what you want, son,” your father said with an amused smirk.

Bucky didn’t see the point, and he also didn’t get why suddenly, there had to be a vote. Until now, there was no voting in the board meetings. They would sinus the best approach, agree on something and move on. But voting? That was a first.

“Fine, whatever,” Bucky said tightly and waited. People around the room raised their hands in favour of Bucky’s idea, because, just as Bucky thought, it was the more logical one. But when he looked at the fathers in front of him, he could see that their smirks were still plastered on their faces.

“We don’t do this gladly, but we veto your vote, son. We truly believe that you shouldn’t be so coward-like and do something bold, accept the consequences and just, do something,” Mr Barnes said, and gasps could be heard from all around the room.

“You what? I’m the fucking CEO if I remember correctly. The majority is on my side, you can’t just waltz in here and veto something all of us agree on.”

“Oh, but we can. Haven’t you read the entire contract you signed when we gave you the company? We don’t want to do it, but we still built this company from scratch. And so when we think that you’re leading it to certain death, we step in. And that’s exactly what we just did. We’ll let you think about it, and we meet again next week and see if you all gained some perspective,” your father said, and with that, they both stood up and walked out of the door.

Bucky was staring at their backs, trying to find the right words for what just happened. Not only did he not see the clause in the contract, but he also didn’t see them using it to undermine him in front of everyone. To say he was seething would be the understatement of the century. He let the people in the office go and just sat there, breathing deeply, trying to regain his composure.

When he finally felt like he wouldn’t kill the first person he met on the hall, he got up and marched into his own office, looking for the contract. He wanted to see if there were other clauses like this one that he missed due to the elated state he was in when he first signed it.

He only got through the first two pages of the document before a knock sounded from the door. He didn’t feel like answering it, but he knew that as a CEO (if he even was that) he had to take care of the company, no matter how betrayed or angry he felt.

But when he saw that it was his father again, he regretted ever saying come in.

“Son, don’t be too angry. Just think about what we proposed, and we can talk about it again next week. You wouldn’t want such a thing to run the company? Or worse, the family, would you? Don’t go around being mad at your own dad!” Mr Barnes smiled at his son patting his shoulder, and Bucky just shook his head in response. Bucky was tired of always fighting everyone, so he remained quiet.

“But that’s not why I’m here. New... issue appeared, so it seems. We’ve received another bunch of photos, and there is a new request so that they don’t get posted online,” Mr Barnes said, and Bucky’s blood ran cold, suddenly.

There haven’t been any photos or videos for some time now, and Bucky thought that it was all resolved.

“What is the request this time?” Bucky asked angrily. He couldn’t understand how the same woman who seemed so meek and exasperated at home would be the same one sending him requests through family members.

Bucky’s father pulled out his phone and showed him the photos of his sister, Rebecca in new compromising positions. While she was still heavily using, Rebecca, his sweet, sweet Rebecca made some decisions, which weren’t the greatest, to say the least. She’s been with a man that took photos of her, she’s been at BDSM parties without signing any contracts beforehand, so there were multiple photos and videos of his beloved sister, splayed naked, doing God-knows-what with mostly various men.

Bucky felt physically sick, staring at the photos, and he had to look away.

His father took it as his cue, and he spoke up again.

“This time, your beloved wife wants something much more, I’m afraid. But she also insinuated that if you do this, it would be the last thing she ever asked of you, and she would give us all the materials she had on your sister.”

“So. What. Is. It?!” Bucky accented every word, and not-so-patiently waited for what his father would say next.

“Now, she wants to have a baby with you. She wrote that she’s been thinking about it for some time and that she thought a baby would make her happy. She said that right after the party she thought it could save your relationship, and she was probably scheming the whole thing in the meantime,” his father said, and when Bucky didn’t reply, he got up.

“Just do this, and your sister§s reputation will be clean. We can buy the information the other people have of her, and she will finally be free of all of this. Be a good son, a good brother, and just sleep with your wife. But remember, don’t ever talk about it with her. She’s crazy enough to actually post everything if you ever talked to her about this deal she stroke with us,” and with that Mr Barnes left Bucky’s office.

Bucky’s brain couldn’t wrap around the whole thing. In the year of your marriage, you proved to be a vial person, through the point of view of your fathers and the image they were providing to Bucky.

But, suddenly, something didn’t seem to add up to the whole story. Bucky saw you at home. You were seriously sick with the flu, and he could see that you couldn’t even watch Netflix because of how tired you were. Even when you didn’t see him, he would check up on you just to be sure you didn’t die from the fever. And you were always asleep. So when did you have the time to think about something so stupid as a child? Especially after the fight you two had in the kitchen the night of the party.

Bucky didn’t waste any more time and headed home. He was resolved to confront you, even if it meant you would publish some photos of Becca. Bucky needed answers, and he needed them now!

He practised the speech he wanted to give you the whole ride home, changing words and whole sentences not to make you too mad and to try and talk to you about your reasoning behind all of this. If you didn’t demand the marriage year prior, and if you didn’t do it through your fathers, Bucky actually thought you two could strike up some romance.

He thought about it all as he opened the door, but upon coming to the living room, he could sense that something has changed. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but the longer he stood in the room, the more it seems as if everything changed there.

And then it hit him. Some of the things you brought there were gone. The fluffy pillows you loved so much, and you would always cuddle them when you were watching something on TV in the living room as if to shield yourself from the outside world.

Your old coffee cups your grandma gave you a few years ago were also gone. Bucky almost ran through the whole apartment, finding things missing, and he was on the verge of calling the police that there was a robbery in his house, when he came into your room.

It was empty except for a piece of paper sitting on the bed.

Bucky took one last glance around and grabbed the paper, unfolding it to read what the person writing had to say.

Dear James,

I know you don’t care one bit about my whereabouts, but I felt like I should at least tell you that I’m not dead. I called you a few times today, but just like any other times, you didn’t pick up. I know you hate me, and although I can’t figure out why, I just wanted to tell you that I finally moved out. The house is all yours, and you can bring anyone there, like Natasha, for example. I don’t care anymore. I can’t act like I’m a happy housewife when every day in that house was pure hell for me. So I’m gone from your life, and I will file for divorce in the next few days. Please, just be so kind as to sign it when it comes and don’t make our lives even more miserable than they already are. I hope we will be able to find a way for me to work at the company because I miss it terribly. I miss working, I miss being independent.

Take care.

Sincerely

Y/N

/ Next Chapter >

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ri-ahhh · 4 years ago

Text

cake for dessert

Grayson wants a slice of MJ for dessert on a rainy day

4.8k

warnings: badly written smut

A/N: one of the MJ things I promised to upload. It’s storming like crazy here and this is all I want in life rn so I figured this was the one to post.

***

A chilly spring rain has descended over LA out of nowhere, as MJ discovers with surprise when she and her best friend Lainey step out of their final store at The Grove. That Saturday had started off warm and sunny, a perfect weekend day to spend out and about, but the storm rolling in is suddenly derailing her and Lainey’s plans for a chill afternoon at the beach.

“Well, shit,” Lainey remarks, glancing up at the dark clouds looming in the not-so-distant skyline.

“Right?” MJ concurs. She scrunches her nose and watches Lainey pout as they consider what else they might do with their Saturday. With MJ still busy working hard at her new job and, admittedly, being wrapped up in the fading newness of Grayson, she and Lainey haven't had much time to spend together. Especially considering her friend’s own relationship and hectic schedule.

A fat raindrop surprises her by landing on her nose, and both of them giggle as the sudden light sprinkle becomes more steady. They hurry down the walkway to the parking garage until they find MJ’s car, hurrying inside and slamming the doors just in time for the rain to start really coming down.

“Looks like we’re going home, unless you want to fight the LA drivers who have no idea what they're doing in the rain to go to a movie or something,” MJ jokes, selecting her favorite rainy day playlist full of Tame Impala, Bon Iver, Rex Orange County, and the like to serenade them on the way back to her apartment.

Lainey laughs. She’s also from out of state and shares MJ’s anecdotal opinion of the LA natives. “Yeah, as much as I want to stay and cuddle and feed each other takeout, I think for that reason I’m gonna have to head out when we get to your place. It’ll take me an extra hour to get home because of this.”

Now it’s MJ’s turn to playfully but also somewhat seriously jut out her lower lip in an impression of Lainey’s earlier pout. “Who’s gonna dangle pad Thai noodles into my mouth, then?”

“I don’t know, babe. Don’t you have a boyfriend or something now?” Lainey smirks, snatching MJ’s phone from her lap and waving it in her face so her lock screen illuminates, an accidental candid she had captured of said boyfriend with that beautiful smile shining right at her.

“It’s not the same,” whines MJ, entering the rapidly congesting highway. “First of all, he’s busy most of the day. Second, he makes it sexy, whereas you’re just plain cute. I don’t think I’m in the mood to be sexy today.”

That was true, for sure. Her outfit consisted of a pair of black leggings, one of Gray’s t-shirts that hung off her body shapelessly, and a baseball cap to hide the fact that she wore no makeup. Between her stuffy nose from the cold she’s fighting and the lack of sleep from the night before, she couldn’t be bothered that morning to try any harder.

Lainey, who had been listening while checking the visor mirror to see if her mascara had survived the rain, feigns offense. “Wow, bitch, are you saying I’m not sexy?”

“Boo, you’re sooo sexy. Grayson should probably thank you for half of my skills based on your tips over the years, now that I think about it,” MJ grins, causing Lainey to cackle.

Their girl talk continues the rest of the surprisingly short car ride back to MJ’s apartment building. MJ pulls up behind Lainey’s car and hugs her bestie over the console.

“Love you. Text me when you’re home so I know you survived the drive.”

“Will do. Love you, babe.”

MJ makes sure Lainey is in her car before driving into her covered spot. The tiredness had been real before, but the pure exhaustion hit her out of nowhere as her mind processes that she’s now home. She’s suddenly looking forward to nothing more than ordering said takeout, soaking in a too-hot bath, and watching The Hobbit series all afternoon.

She shuts the door to her apartment behind her with a sigh and trudges into her room, tossing her bags on her bed. Desperate to start the second half of her day of relaxation, it takes her all of 30 seconds to strip down and make her way into the bathroom. As the soaking tub fills, she selects a Lush bath bomb and bubble bar from the basket on the counter.

With a last-minute face mask applied, hair piled on top of her head to keep it dry, and New Girl ready to play on her phone, she’s just settling into the water with a light moan when the phone begins buzzing on the ledge of her soaking tub. She dries her hands and smiles when she sees Grayson’s name on the FaceTime call.

“Hi, baby,” she answers once his handsome face fills the screen, scooping some of the foamy bubbles closer to her chest so they fluff out cloud-like from her skin.

Grayson grins and takes a second to admire at her. “Hi, sweetheart. You look so fucking cute.”

MJ rolls her eyes but flushes and smiles appreciatively. “If you say so. How’s filming going?”

He puffs his cheeks and blows out the air slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Good, but it’s been a long day. E and I both decided to call it quits early; we’re both way too strung out on no sleep and anxiety to get much else done, especially now that the weather’s gone to shit.”

“I’m sorry, Bear, I know you both wanted to get everything wrapped tonight,” she laments with him, wishing she could comfort him with a kiss to his plump pink lips. “I’m kind of in the same boat. Lainey and I couldn't go to the beach, and between this cold I have and the fact it’s getting harder and harder to sleep without you, I’m so tired.”

Grayson smiles at her in that way he reserves only for her — soft, crooked, his hazel eyes sparkling in the center and crinkling just the tiniest bit at the corners — especially at the sound of her little pet name for him.

“Can I come over? I’ve been thinking about you all day, but I didn't want to cut into your time with Lainey. I just need to be with you.”

“Yes please,” MJ agrees with a sniffle. “As long as you’re the big spoon while we have a couch day. That’s about all I’m gonna be good for today, I think.”

“Of course,” he grins, getting into his car. “Are you gonna be my little cuddle bug all afternoon, Peach?”

She hears an exasperated ‘oh my God’ in the background and can practically see Ethan’s eye-roll out of frame.

“Yeah,” she coos back to her boyfriend, then, “hi, E.”

“Hi, MJ,” he grunts. As she’s naked underneath the clouds of bubbles, Grayson doesn’t angle the phone towards his brother, but she can still hear his voice. “You know, he’s already a cornball most of the time, but you really bring it out of him in droves, dude.”

Grayson doesn’t even react to Ethan, his gaze fixated instead on MJ through the phone. “Good. I sleep better with you in my arms, too.”

“Ugh,” Ethan complains. “Where are my fucking AirPods?”

She does, indeed, hear rustling, presumably from the older twin, but she chooses to ignore him as well. “Can you pick up Thai or Veggie Grill or something on your way over?”

“Oooh, yeah, either of those sound awesome. I’m starving,” Grayson agrees. “I’ll have to drop E off at home first and hopefully traffic wont be too bad both ways. Be there in an hour?”

“Sounds good. Thank you, baby,” she says quietly with a sweet, content smile.

He winks at her, and his voice drops a couple of notches. “No problem, Peach. As long as you’re my dessert.”

Her body rushes with heat, and not from the temperature of the water she’s soaking in. Before she can answer, Ethan groans louder than ever.

“Oh my God, dude, I fucking heard that! Can you keep your cheesy sex talk at zero while we’re literally right next to each other?” His voice suddenly picks up even louder so she can hear him. “MJ, I can’t believe you still let him fuck you when he says shit like that.”

“He makes up for it with the other things his mouth can do,” she retorts, winking at Grayson. Her giggles join Grayson’s howls of laughter and taunts at his brother, who apparently is very much done with the conversation. “Alright, I love you both. Drive safe, please.”

True to his word, Grayson shows up a little over an hour later with a bag of Veggie Grill in one hand and a Starbucks medicine ball in the other. MJ absolutely despises hot tea, and he knows it, but he also knows she won’t be able to resist the soothing warmth of it — especially considering he took the time and effort to get it for her.

He smiles at the sight of her cocooned in the plush, cozy fabric of her favorite blanket and leans down to give her a quick kiss. He hands her the drink, which she does indeed accept with warm eyes and a soft heart. She takes a sip and lets the hot liquid coat her scratchy throat as he plops down next to her with a sigh and sets the food on her coffee table. Grayson cups her cheeks to draw her in for another kiss — lingering, closed-mouthed pecks this time.

“Hi,” he says, smiling and dropping one to her red-tipped nose for good measure.

“Hi,” she whispers, her voice hoarse from mouth-breathing more and more throughout the afternoon. “Sorry I look so gross. This cold is kicking my ass the later it gets. You’re probably going to catch it.”

“First of all: worth it. Second: are you kidding? This is my favorite MJ,” he assures, peppering little kisses all across her forehead as he draws her in to his chest. Her hair is in the same messy bun from her bath, her glasses are on, and she’s dressed in her old college crewneck sweatshirt, boy-short Calvins, and fuzzy socks… “No one gets to see you like this except me. All fresh-faced and beautiful and undone. All mine.”

“Mmm,” MJ hums, snuggling into him and sniffling. “We’ll see how you feel when I’m snoring like a 300 pound grandpa in a little bit because I can’t breathe out of my nose.”

“Okay, but I don’t see how that’ll be different from any other night.” She draws back and smacks him on the arm playfully, scoffing incredulously. He just barks out a laugh and kisses the frown off her lips before distributing their late lunch between them.

They make comfortable small talk while The Office plays quietly in the background, mixing with the patter of rain on the large windows. A fuzzy warm ball settles in the pit of her stomach that has her feeling almost heady at the simple intimacy of the moment.

MJ finishes first. She takes off her glasses and places them on the coffee table next to her tea so she can curl into a ball and nuzzle into Gray’s shoulder. He kisses the top of her head affectionately and finishes his meal in silence while they watch the antics of Michael Scott and gang for the millionth time. Eventually his empty plate joins hers and he opens his burly arms to gather her in his embrace, lying down and bringing her with him.

Grayson chuckles when she fully climbs on top of him so she’s straddling his hips and hugging him with all of her limbs like a koala would a tree, her nose buried into the five o’clock shadow on his neck. He makes sweeping passes up and down her back. “Needy today, sweetheart?”

“A little,” MJ mumbles, eyelids already feeling heavy, even more so when he fixes the oversized blanket around the both of them. He smells so good, feels so solid and warm, his breath tickling her ear soothingly. They FaceTime every day, but their crazy lives have made it where this is the first time in days that they’ve seen each other in person. “Missed you. We both work too much.”

He lets out a little hum of agreement, sighing when he feels her lips pucker to dot baby kisses on his bronze skin. His hands stroke up and down her back comfortingly. “I missed you, too. E and I should have just one more day of shooting before we’ll be home more to work on editing and stuff with the team.”

“I’ll be in Seattle most of next week for a new client recruit,” she reminds, recognizing the inexplicit invitation. “Otherwise I’d come over and work remote with you.”

“Ugh, that’s right,” Gray laments, sighing. “Kiss me. Please?”

MJ gives him a lazy smile when she feels his fingers tilt her chin up. Their makeout is slow and simple and just what the both need, reconnecting after days and lives apart.

A few minutes go by until MJ groans a little and sits up in his lap with a sigh, a string of saliva connecting their lips before breaking with a snap.

“I can’t breathe laying down like that. Or just out of my nose,” she pouts. One of her hands plays with his hair while the other smooths down his t-shirt over his chest where she had rumpled it by laying on him.

Grayson grips her hips and follows her up, hugging her tightly around the middle with those huge, burly arms. “Since you can’t sleep anyways…” he looks at her, and she cocks an eyebrow, her lips quirking questioningly. “Can I have my dessert now? You can sit up on the couch. And no mouth-to-mouth required.”

MJ chuckles and wraps her arms around his broad shoulders, biting her lip as she considers his request. As much as she wants Grayson in any capacity most of the time, today is one of those days where sex just isn't on the table for her.

That being said, can she really resist that tongue? Those lips?

Before she can answer, he continues. “I know you don’t feel good, so I’ll understand if you just aren't up for anything today. But I’m not expecting you to reciprocate at all. I’ve just been wanting… like, basically needing to eat your pussy all week. It’s all I’ve been able to think about for so days.” He traces her jawline with his nose until his lips reach that little spot right behind the hinge and just below her ear, where he licks and nibbles until her hips start shifting in his lap of their own accord. “Please?”

Well, how the fuck is she going to say no to that?

She can’t, and knows he can sense her giving in when he starts to turn them around so she’s reclined against the back of the couch. Grayson grins while he arranges the blankets and pillows around her to get her as comfy as possible.

She watches him fuss over her with loving eyes, but wants to make sure he really is okay with the arrangement, too. “Are you sure? I don’t want to blue ball you. And I can speak from experience that that rug isn't a fun place to be on your knees for an extended period of time.”

Gray smirks at her and plants one more kiss to her lips before sinking down her body, snatching a couple of stray pillows to cushion his knees. “One problem solved. And don't worry about any chance of blue balls; it’s been way too fucking long since I’ve done this, and I’ll be lucky if I don't cum in my pants before I even get you to your first one.”

“Oh, so I’m in for more than one orgasm today?” MJ smiles back down at him and lifts her hips so he can drag her panties down her toned legs, placing her feet on the edge of the couch so she’s nice and open for him once he had the fabric tossed behind him somewhere. “I’d say that was big talk if I didn't know you could back it up.”

She knows he likes a challenge, and combined with his love for being praised and her bare pussy exposed to him at long last, she feels like she’s got a little bit of an upper hand here.

“Always,” he murmurs.

His lips start at the inside of her knee, working their way up to her inner thigh, across her mound to nuzzle in the little patch of hair she hadn't bothered to trim down between waxes, before trekking down the opposite leg. MJ knows his goal is to build up the anticipation for them both, and he’s succeeding; she can hear his breathing intensify as he tries to take in her scent, and she can feel the wetness beginning to leak out of her without so much as a lick from him.

Finally, he brings his hand up to trace her smooth lower lips, glancing up at her with warm yet lustful eyes as he takes in how his teasing is affecting her. MJ gives it right back, sneaking a hand under her oversized sweatshirt to play with her breast. It drives him absolutely crazy seeing her touch herself, but also not being able to see. If she didn't know any better, she would say sometimes he was more obsessed with her boobs than her actual vagina when they get down.

When his eyes turn dark, she grins and uses her free hand to rake through his hair and pull him towards her pussy while simultaneously pinching her nipple just the way she likes. Grayson growls and turns his attention back where she’s directing him, finally parting her with his middle and index fingers to expose her clit. He places a quick kiss directly to it, causing MJ to gasp and grip his dark locks tighter.

He gives it a more sensual smooch and pulls back to watch more of her juices trickle out of her until he can’t resist really getting to work anymore. His moan vibrates against her when his tongue swipes through the sweet wetness, trailing it to her clit with his mouth and giving the nub a gentle suckle before slipping his tongue back to her entrance. MJ lets out little whimpers of bliss as he makes out with her pussy, his tongue reaching as far inside her as it can, wiggling around and slurping down everything that comes out of her.

She lets him eat her out with no real purpose, thoroughly enjoying the constant stimulus of his lips and teeth and tongue without a driving need to make her cum behind it. Her hands flit between stroking his hair comfortingly, to playing with her breasts, to digging her nails across his clothed shoulders.

“Feels so good,” MJ whispers while she watches him work. Her fingers are combing gently through his hair once again to push the dark strands off of his forehead just in time to see his eyes flit open to meet her own.

“Tastes so good,” Grayson growls back, taking a moment to sit on his haunches and get a thorough look at her spread out for him. Her pussy is swollen and wet, the insides of her thighs bare the faint markings of his teeth, and her face is pure bliss even as she sniffs and coughs a bit. “You okay?”

MJ nods. It’s sweet of him to check, but all she wants now is his face back in her pussy. She bites her lip and one of her heels, still clad in a fuzzy sock, digs into the middle of his broad back to push him in. Grayson smirks darkly and follows her lead, his lips immediately suctioning around her plump little clit.

“Fuck…” MJ moans. Her voice is raspier than usual and, like everything else about her today, goes straight to his dick, which throbs untouched in his grey sweats.

He starts working her over with purpose now, determined to get her to cum in the next 30 seconds. He knows he can do it even if she hadn't started chanting, “like that, like that, don’t fucking stop…”

Her moans reach peak levels, as loud as she can be with her sore throat, and her clit throbs on his tongue. Her back arches off the couch and her hands dive fully in his thick hair now to hold him to her, her heel still pressing against his spine doing the same.

Grayson groans and has to remove one of his hands from her hips to reach into his boxers and squeeze his dick hard enough to stave off his own orgasm. He slips two fingers of his other hand in her dripping pussy to give her something to clench around, which doesn’t help his attempt at not cumming literally in his pants when he feels her walls gripping his digits like a vice.

“Baby…” she whines as he brings her down with little kitten licks on her pulsing clit, her thighs quivering around his head. Grayson hums and nuzzles into that delicate skin until the muscles beneath stop trembling, and the flutters around his middle and ring fingers have ceased. He never takes his eyes off her face — eyes closed, mouth agape, cheeks flushed. Beautiful and dismantled because of him.

Once he feels she (and, frankly, he himself) have calmed just enough to be able to take more, he starts to press and curl the fingers inside her. MJ whines softly as the build picks up again, which turns into shrieking when he wraps his swollen lips around her clit again and sucks the nub sharply into his mouth. Between the sloppy wetness of his mouth and the way he applies pressure just right on her g-spot, it takes all of a minute for her to fall apart again. She marvels, not for the first time, at how fucking good he is at this, how well he knows her body.

‘Always’ is right.

Grayson sits back, removes his hand and mouth from her and growls at the sight before him while he pushes against the backs of her thighs. So much for sitting up, as she’s now practically on her back, but neither of them are complaining or stopping to readjust. She’s perfectly exposed for him, her juices and his saliva coating her skin and dripping down her ass, she’s that wet.

“MJ…”

Her name escaping his lips in that husky voice finally gets her to lazily blink her eyes open until her gaze focuses on him as clearly as she can. He looks sexy as fuck on his knees for her, pupils dilated and the stubbled skin of his chin and jaw covered in shiny wetness.

Grayson’s big hands knead the insides of her thighs until he’s confident he has her full attention. He smoothes his palms to the crooks of her knees, moving her gently until she’s practically folded in half, and without breaking eye contact shifts his head that much further down so he can go to town on her even lower.

MJ gasps and shoots one of her hands to his hair, her first instinct being to push him away, until half a second passes and she’s doing the exact opposite. No one has ever done this for her before, and now she’s wondering how she had gone so long without the sensation of his tongue swiping up her cum from that virtually untouched hole.

If she was in any right state, she would have seen Grayson’s smug, quite literally ass eating smirk at her reaction to his ministrations. He isn’t sure why in their nearly eight months together he had never eaten her ass before; it isn’t the first time he’s done it to a girl. Maybe because he treasures sex with MJ more than anyone in his life before, maybe knowing in his heart that they have a long future of making love ahead of them had caused him to wait. What he does know, is that he’ll never be able to resist doing it again when the desire to rises, especially given her voracious response to it.

“Fuck!” MJ wails when he spreads her even more open with his hand so he can have better access, his tongue rimming and prodding her asshole to perfection while the thumb of his free hand presses upward on the hood of her clit. He knows her so well, can sense she’s too sensitive for direct stimulation there, but the pressure right above the bundle of nerves is exactly what she’s craving without her even realizing it.

But he does, and it feels so good — too good; Grayson’s eyes drop closed as he lets her taste and sounds overcome his senses, and it’s like her pleasure is his as his hand finally begins to jerk himself off. He builds up the speed of his strokes with her increased pace of breath, until she cums for a third time, and his tongue is quickly swiping all the way up her crease, from asshole to clit as he stands to his feet. He leans over her with one hand on the back of the couch and licks the last of her off his lips as he takes in her body to fuel him even more, even as clothed as she still is.

MJ starts to come-to enough to realize what he needs, and lifts her shirt to expose more skin to him. She drinks in the sight of her gorgeous boyfriend towering over her with his sweats and boxer briefs pushed down just enough for his equally beautiful dick to be out while he strokes the head aggressively. He’s about to explode and she knows it, just as attuned to his body’s tells as he is with hers.

His face is hovering just above hers, and she watches his mouth drop and his eyes train on her exposed skin. MJ bites her lip and whines, pulling roughly on her nipples while her eyes flit between his face and his cock. “Cum on my pussy, baby, I want it — want your cum all over me, make it your pussy…”

She’s rambling, but it’s all he needed as a deep, relieved groan escapes him, followed by soft grunts as he shoots all over her, exactly where she told him to and then some. MJ moans quietly and knocks his hand out of the way to finish him off herself, squeezing the last drops of the pearly white from him. The fingers of her other hand collect what she can from her skin to keep it from dripping on the couch, spreading it instead over her swollen lower lips.

His chest still heaves when she looks up at him with a tired smile, which he matches with a laugh when her final stroke makes him flinch. He pushes her hand off his cock and tells her, “Don’t move.”

She obeys, and watches him lean over to grab his phone off the side table, unlocking it and swiping up. “Is this okay?” he asks, motioning with his head. “This is too fucking sexy. Need a memento while you’re out of town.”

MJ giggles and nods, spreading her legs a little more as he goes to town. She does her best to coat her pussy in his cum, her long, glittering manicured nails adding a certain aesthetic to the shots. She even scoops some up and let him capture her sucking it off her middle finger.

Grayson smiles tiredly and kisses her sweetly, the gentleness and simplicity of it a little stark after the pure filth of the last twenty minutes. He tucks himself back in his pants and goes into her bathroom to get a wet rag to clean her up with, chucking it in the washer when he’s done. On his way back over to her, he picks up her long-forgotten panties off the middle of the living room floor with a smirk and hands them to her, plopping next to her and dragging her into his lap once they’re back on her body.

“I’m gonna have to insist on you having dessert every day,” she yawns into his chest with a sniffle. “I didn't know you liked cake so much.”

Grayson laughs and squeezes her tight to him, placing a lingering kiss on her forehead as he confirms to Netflix that, yes, they are indeed still watching. “And Ethan says I’m the cornball.”

“If he only knew.”

#idk if i like this or not #but it is what it is #hope its okay #dolan twins #grayson dolan #ethan dolan #smut #grayson mj

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myownworstenemyyy · 4 years ago

Text

Crystal Clear - Part 2

a Javier Peña x Reader series

Word count: 2.3k (gif by @notsogreatgifs)

Warnings: alcohol ; situation involving someone cheating on their partner ; ANGST

A/N: surprise! i decided to make a mini-series out of this story (a continuation of this ask) because i just can't stop myself 😂 and I'm procrastinating writing for my other series sooo this is from Javi’s POV so enjoy the angst y’all! 💕💜 (masterlist in bio)

AO3 | fic inspired by the song Crystal Clear by Hayley Williams

I jump in with the rush in my head only to find the water was concrete

She’s engaged, Javi repeats in his head for the hundredth time since he discovered the ring on your finger. Downing his third glass of whiskey, all he can think about is the look on your face after you kissed him earlier that day.

The kiss starts out slow, almost tentative as your lips connect for the first time - is this really the first time we’ve kissed? Fuck, I’ve wasted so much time, Javi thinks when you thread your fingers through his hair. It only takes a second before he’s gripping your hips and tugging you even closer to his chest, a gasp falling from your lips when he swipes his tongue along the seam of your lips.

As soon as you open for him, he loses his fucking mind - every desire he’s kept locked away takes form in the desperate way his mouth devours yours. But the passion isn’t one-sided, because every time your lips break apart, your hands flex along his scalp, closing the small gap between you once more.

Your mouths move hungrily against each other, like the two of you have been wandering through a desert for weeks, slowly dying of an agonizing thirst until finally discovering the source of life within one another. And that’s the only way Javier can describe how he’s truly felt about you all this time - like he’s been suffocating and you’re the air he’s been gasping for, for his entire life.

All the yearning and sorrow he’s suffered from years without acting on his feelings for you leave him in a state of depravity that no other woman he’s ever been with could cure. And no matter how hard he tried - how much liquor he drank or how many women he fucked - he could never force you out of his mind.

Or out of his heart.

Suddenly, you pull back from the kiss, pushing against his shoulders to keep him at a distance. He grips onto your arm - not unlike the way you had held onto his arm just before admitting you couldn’t deny feeling something for him.

Your eyes grow impossibly wide as the two of you stare at one another, chests heaving and breaths mingling in the little space that’s between you. He licks his lips, still tasting you on his skin and it takes everything in him not to pull you into his arms again.

“I-” you swallow hard, your expression growing more worrisome, almost to the point of looking like you’re about to be sick. Your eyes fall to where your left hand rests on his shoulder as you croak out, “We shouldn’t have done that.”

With a look of concern, Javier raises his hand to tuck back stray pieces of hair that have fallen out of your ponytail, but once his finger grazes your cheek, you flinch away, taking a step back from him.

And he’ll never admit out loud just how deeply that small gesture pierced his heart.

You wrap your arms around yourself, not meeting his eyes as you shake your head lightly, “I shouldn’t have done that - I-I’m sorry, I can’t.” Keeping your eyes cast downward, your shoulder brushes his as you head back in the direction of your house, but he catches your elbow just before you’re out of reach.

“Can I...see you again, bonita? Just to talk, I promise,” he pleads, hoping you’ll see the sincerity - along with the fear of losing you - in his eyes.

You hesitate, looking around as if to make sure none of the neighbors are watching your intimate exchange with a man who isn’t your betrothed. When your eyes land on his again, they soften though they remain laced with uncertainty, “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Javi.” The regretful way his name falls from your lips makes his stomach drop but your next words give him some semblance of hope.

“I just...need some time to think, OK?” you offer him a small, reassuring smile as you bring a hand to his cheek. The gesture feels so natural and warm, yet foreign all at the same time, and all he can manage is a nod in response, his voice failing him.

He doesn’t miss the sad glint in your eye either as you turn and walk away from him for the second time that day.

Signaling the bartender, Javier asks for another whiskey as he reaches into his jacket for his pack of cigarettes. He releases a heavy sigh as his drink is placed in front of him, if there was ever a reason to get fucking plastered, reuniting with the love of your life when she’s already engaged to another man would be right at the top of the fucking list.

The moment he felt that ring on your finger, his heart clenched painfully in his chest, because he knew - he knew he was too late and he only had himself to blame. All those years ago when he left for Columbia, he thought he was doing the right thing - that you’d be better off without him.

When he’d learned you had feelings for him as well - because if he’s being honest with himself, he’s been in love with you since you were just kids - he was shocked, to say the least. He never once even humored the idea of having something more with you, beyond the close friendship the two of you have shared for decades.

But the way you looked at him that night, your eyes glistening with unshed tears as you bared your soul to him, there was no way he could tell you he’d already been assigned to Columbia and was set to leave the very next day. It crushed him to hug you so close that night, knowing he was a coward for saying nothing - about how he felt the same about you, and about how he’d be gone for what was sure to be years, as the hunt for Escobar would be no easy task.

So he’d kissed you on the cheek and promised that the two of you would talk everything out the next day, though it was a complete lie. And the hopeful look you gave him - one full of love and tenderness - it pulled the air right from his lungs. But he forced himself to walk away before he changed his mind and confessed the truth to you right then and there, telling himself you deserved better than a coward like him.

You deserved the world, but he could never be the one to give it to you.

“Something got you down, partner?” the bartender asks, a slight Southern twang in his voice. Javi resists the urge to roll his eyes at the man’s use of the word partner as he takes a drag of his cigarette before responding, “Just...lady troubles.” He’s surprised he divulged even that little bit of information, but it’s most likely due to the alcohol now weakening his inhibitions.

The bartender - who’s not much younger than Javier - offers a knowing smirk, “Ah, yup, that’ll do it.” He chuckles to himself and Javi glares at him, though the other man doesn’t seem to notice as he wipes down the counter, grinning to himself, “Glad I don’t gotta deal with that anymore.”

Javi raises an eyebrow, only slightly intrigued by the meaning behind his words as he takes a swig of his drink. The other man runs a hand through his light brown hair before continuing, “Been with my lady for years now and we’ve never had any problems - well, none that I’m aware of, at least,” he chuckles again and though the guy seems genuinely nice, something about him rubs Javi the wrong way. He’s just not sure what.

But he doesn’t have to wait long to find out as the door to the bar opens behind him, calling the bartender’s attention as he exclaims, “Well, speak of the devil - here’s my pretty lady now.”

Javier downs the rest of his drink, deciding to head out before he gets stuck in an hour-long conversation with this guy and his pretty lady. He hears light footsteps approaching on his right and just as he sets his glass back down, he hears a familiar soft voice and freezes.

“Hi, honey. I brought you some food,” you grin as you place a large paper bag on the bar top and lean over the counter to plant a light kiss on the bartender’s - no, your fiancé’s lips. “Aw, thanks, baby - you’re too good to me. But, were your ears ringin’? ‘Cause I was just talkin’ about you with my new friend here, uh - sorry, man, what’s your name?”

You turn with a bright smile on your face, but it quickly falls once you meet Javier’s eyes - your warm expression being replaced with one of sheer panic. Javi can only imagine what’s going through your mind right now, but he’s almost certain it’s something along the lines of “Oh, shit.”

“Javier, nice to meet you…” putting on his best poker face, he extends his hand out to you, assuming you want him to play dumb so your fiancé doesn’t suspect Javier had his tongue down your throat just hours before.

As if this situation wasn’t fucked enough already.

You clear your throat a little too harshly as you extend your hand out to him, saying, “Y/N, it’s...nice to meet you, too,” and when your skin comes into contact with his, it sends a shock up his arm and straight to his heart.

While Javier’s world is tilting on its axis, the bartender sifts through the bag you brought - seemingly unaware of the shift in the air. “Baby, did you bring your momma’s hot sauce?” he looks at you expectantly, though your eyes are still fixed on Javier.

“Uh - oh, n-no. Shit, I forgot, sorry,” you turn and offer an apologetic smile that appears strained, at least to Javier’s eyes. Este pendejo doesn’t have a clue, does he?

“You feelin’ okay? You look a little pale, darlin’,” the bartender - what the fuck is his name - asks with a look of concern, and Javi almost feels bad for the guy. Or at least he would if he wasn’t currently engaged to the love of Javi’s life.

“Yeah, I’m just...tired. I was outside most of the day, trying to fix the garden,” your voice evens out as you speak and Javier can’t help but admire your talent for masking the anxiety that must be coursing through your veins. She’s almost as good a liar as I am.

The other guy is about to respond when someone catches his attention on the far side of the room, “Gimme a minute. Don’t go anywhere, baby, and I’ll fix you another drink when I get back - OK, partner?,” he winks before sauntering off in the direction of where he was called from.

As soon as he’s out of earshot, Javier laughs, the alcohol in his system making the whole situation seem much less serious than it is, “Really, bonita? Him? Since when have you been into gringos?” His words come out harsher than he intends as he glares at you and you glare right back at him with a fire crackling in your eyes.

“Since a couple of years after a certain tontito left the country and never even tried to contact me again,” your words land like a blow to the stomach and Javi visibly winces before you continue, “and he’s actually a really kind person - he doesn’t deserve this.” You sigh as you plop down on a bar stool, making sure to keep one empty between you and Javier.

“And what exactly is...this? I’d love to know,” he rests his elbow on the counter, leaning his head onto his hand as he angles his body toward you. “I mean, we didn’t exactly go over all the details after you had your tongue in my mouth,” you gasp at his lewd comment, but he remains unfazed as he continues, “por favor, dime qué somos tu y yo, bonita.” His words are starting to slur and his vision’s a little fuzzy but he can still make out the blush on your cheeks.

“Keep it down, will you?” you whisper harshly as you lean closer to him, planting a hand on the empty stool between you. “This,” you gesture between the two of you, “is nothing, OK? I can’t - I won’t put Jackson though that,” you lean back, your expression stern, yet weary.

So the pendejo’s name is Jackson then. Typical southern name to match his southern accent.

“Through what?” Javi asks and he knows he’s being an asshole, but that’s easier than admitting that his heart is shattering with each minute he spends looking at your beautiful face, knowing that you belong to someone else.

“I’m not doing this with you, Javi. We’re - we’re not even friends anymore, so let’s just leave it alone and...go our separate ways,” you nod as if trying to convince yourself this is the best option for everyone, but your eyes say different. Even in his intoxicated state, he can see the confusion and stress that plagues your features. At that moment, he’d give anything to hold you in his arms and kiss away all your sorrows.

“Bonita-” he starts but is stopped short by the bartend- Jackson rejoining the two of you, “Oh, “bonita” - that means pretty, right?” He grins between the two of you as if he didn’t just intrude on one of the most painful conversations of Javier’s life.

And the way he said “bonita” is the last straw for Javier. Clenching his jaw, he slips off his stool with surprising ease and pulls his wallet out of his back pocket, his cigarette long forgotten in the ashtray on the bar.

He mumbles, “Yeah, it means pretty-” he looks at you with a level of intensity that makes your heart race, “or beautiful.”

Dropping a few bills on the wooden surface, he nods his thanks to Jackson while clenching his fist at his side and turns to you once more, a wistful look in his eyes, “Nos vemos...bonita.”

And he walks out of the bar, his soul in tatters.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Translations:

pendejo - dumbass

gringos - white men

tontito - idiot

por favor, dime qué somos tu y yo - please, tell me what we are.

nos vemos - see you

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

aaaahhhhh what’d y’all think?? i hope you don’t mind I'm taking a tiny break from Mariposa - i got stuck so i decided to just do another series lmao fuck

thanks for reading! 💜

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#crystal clear #catch me back on my bullshit with another series while i still got another series going lmao #cc series #javier peña #javier pena x reader #javier peña x reader #narcos #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #my ff #my writing #my posts #fic series #fic rec

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