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falcqns · 4 years ago

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Aurorra

Pairing: Dad!Henry Cavill x Single Mom!Reader

Summary: Henry meets his daughter for the first time.

Warnings: fluff, slight angst. Dad!Henry

A/N: I don't know why I'm a sucker for these types of stories but I am. Hope you enjoy!

It's been two years and two days exactly since you and Henry had broken up.

It had been one year, one month, and two weeks exactly since you had given birth to his daughter, the daughter he had no idea existed.

It hadn't been a particularly nasty break up or anything, but both of you were hurting. You both wanted the relationship to work out, and when it didn't, you were both too heartbroken to even remain friends.

You had moved away from London not long after the breakup, deciding to live in Manchester, which was closer to your family. When you found out you were pregnant, you had tried to call him, but he had blocked your number. You had no way of contacting him other than through instagram, but he had unfollowed you and you knew your message would get lost in the thousands he received a day if you tried that.

You had no way of contacting his family either. You didn't know what to do. You had told your family, and they were insanely happy for you, even though you were going to be a single mother. When your mom had sat down and told you her and your father would do anything to help and support you through whatever decision you made, you knew the answer.

You were going to be a single mother.

When your daughter Aurorra Enola Cavill was born nine months later, you knew you made the right choice. Being a single mother may not have been what you were planning in life, but holding your blue eyed and brown curly haired baby in your arms for the first time, you knew it was what you were meant to do.

Aurorra had become your little bestie. She was such a well behaved baby. She rarely cried, slept through the night not long after she turned a week old, and was always full of smiles that were clearly from her father. There was never any doubt in your mind that she was Henry's, and every time you looked at her and saw her blue eyes, brown hair, and her cuddly chunky body, it only solidified that fact.

Aurorra had just turned 13 months old, and your job transferred you back to London, so you and Aurorra had just made the big move back.

You had opted to move back to the same neighbourhood both because of the safety of it, and because you knew you'd have a good chance of running into Henry. You had thought about it for months on end, and knew he couldn't be kept in the dark any more.

You had just finished unpacking the last box in the bedroom, when Aurorra woke up from her afternoon nap. You changed her and the two of you headed out to ASDA to get some groceries.

You pulled in the driveway and saw car that looked similar to Henry's BMW, but you didn't think anything of it. You parked and got a less than happy Aurorra out of her carseat and strapped her into the cart before heading on your shopping journey.

You had made it through the fruits and vegetables, and was heading to the freezer section to grab frozen fruit for the growing 13 month old, when you saw a familiar back in the same aisle.

It was Henry. There was no doubt about that. He was wearing a white knitted cardigan, with faded blue jeans, and running shoes. From the top of his cardigan you saw a dark blue t shirt poking out. His hair was slightly messy, but still curly. He was reading the nutrition information on the back of a frozen energy bowl, and you quietly opened the fridge, hoping to grab what you needed from this aisle and escape without him noticing you.

You had gone over seeing him again a million times in your head, and in no way did you plan on it being in the grocery store with other people around.

But, 13 month olds have a mind of their own. At that moment, Aurorra saw a popsicle package with the characters from her favourite show, Miraculous Tales of Ladybug and Cat Noir, and proceeded to squeal and call your attention.

"Mama!" She squealed and pointed a chunky hand at the popsicles. "Bug!" You glanced up and Henry and watched as he did a double take back at you. His eye brow furrowed, but you ignored him, instead turning to your baby.

"Yes, that is Ladybug. Would you like them?" You asked, and she nodded eagerly. You smiled and grabbed them out of the freezer once you noticed they were organic. "Say thank you," You prompted, and she brought the same chunky hand up to her chin and then down flat towards you. It wasn't the most perfect sign, but she was still learning.

You saw Henry walk up to you and had to steel yourself for the coming conversation. "Y/N?" He asked, and you turned around to face him.

"Hi, Henry." You said, placing the popsicles in the cart with the rest of your groceries. He smiled at you, and then glanced at Aurorra. She smiled and cooed at him and he smiled back, and stroked her cheek. "Hows everything," you asked, trying to avoid the question you knew was about to come.

"Everything's good. Kal misses you. Still sleeps with the teddy you got him," He said, his eyes locked on your daughter. You smiled.

"Well, tell him I miss him too. Now, if you'll excuse me, we're running a little late. I have to get home and get her fed." You said, but before you could move the cart Henry asked you the question.

"I-is she mine?" He asked, and you nodded, trying to swallow the lump that had been forming in your throat, to no avail.

"Y-Yes." You stuttered, and seconds later, Henry's arms enveloped you. "I-Im sorry," You whimpered, and Henry shushed you.

"Its okay. Let's not talk about it here. How about I meet you at your place once were both done?" He suggested, and you agreed, before giving him your address.

"Okay. I'll see you there." he said, giving you another hug, and pressing a kiss to the top of Aurorra's hand that had curled around his pointer finger. He stroked her cheek once more, before giving you both a smile, and heading off. He grabbed his cart with groceries, and made his way towards the checkout.

By the time you had finished shopping and made it home, Henry was parked in the driveway. You took a deep breath, and got out, giving him a smile. He returned it, and got out of his car before walking over to help you.

He grabbed the groceries, leaving you to grab Aurorra, who squealed at the sight of Henry. Henry chuckled, and blew her a kiss. He followed the two of you inside. You set Aurorra down, who stumbled on her own feet before stabilizing, her empty bottle in the right hand.

"Go put your baba in the kitchen please," You said, and she babbled to herself as she walked off, ignoring you and Henry.

"She's absolutely adorable," Henry said, and you smiled. "Well, she is your daughter," You said. Henry threw his head back and laughed before following you into the kitchen.

You set the bags down on the ground and turned to put away the ones Henry set on the counter. You two made small talk while putting away the groceries, mainly about work. You heard ruffling behind you but didn't think anything of it, as Aurorra usually liked to help put away the soup cans.

"Mama?" You heard a little voice ask and you turned around to face Aurorra. She was holding the box of popsicles out to you in one hand, while her other hand made a clockwise motion on her chest, signing please.

You smiled and took the box from her.

"After dinner, okay?" You said, and she didn't like that very much. She plopped on her butt and began to cry.

Her arms reached up to where the popsicles were and sobbed her little heart out. Henry's heart melted and scooped her up. "It's okay baby girl," He said, bouncing her. She sniffled, but calmed down and laid her head on his shoulder. He smiled in happiness, and pressed a kiss to her curly head.

He turned to you. "I just realized, I don't know her name," he said, and you smacked your head.

"Shit sorry, I completely forgot to mention that. Her names Aurorra Enola Cavill. I made sure she got your last name, and that you're on the birth certificate." You said, running your hands through her curly hair.

"Enola? Like Enola Holmes?" He asked, as Aurorra cuddled closer, her chunky arms wrapping around his neck. You nodded.

"Yeah. I couldn't think of a middle name for her, and I was watching Enola Holmes just before she was born. It was the scene where Sherlock and Mycroft see Enola on the train platform and you say her name. I knew then it was perfect." You said, and Henry smiled.

"It's a beautiful name," he said, wrapping his free arm around you. The three of you stood there for a few minutes, before Aurorra shook her hands at you, and tried to wiggle out of Henry's arms.

"Ah dun, Mama." She said. Henry pressed a kiss to her chunky cheek, and let her onto the floor. She scurried away seconds later, towards her bedroom.

"Is she okay wandering by herself?" He asked, watching her little body fall to her hands and knees, but get up and brush it off before continuing on her mission.

"Yeah she'll be fine. She's just going to play." You said, and Henry nodded before pulling you into his arms fully.

"I really am sorry I didn't tell you about her. I couldn't contact you or anyone in your family, and I didn't have the energy during my pregnancy or after to make the journey to London. I promise I didn't plan on hiding her forever." You said, and Henry squeezed you even tighter.

"It's okay. I know you'd never do something like that on purpose. You've done an amazing job raising her. I just wish I had witnessed it."

"You'll get to see her grow. You might have missed her start life, but I have everything recorded. Her first breath, her first steps, her first words, all of it. I know it's not the sam-" You said, but were cut off by his lips.

His hand travelled up to cup your face, before he pulled away. "Sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I just- You amaze me, you know that?" He said and you giggled.

"How so?" You questioned.

He rested his forehead on yours before continuing. "You thought to record everything. You made sure she has my last name and that I'm on the birth certificate. You didn't have to do that, but you did. I've missed you so much, and I didn't know just how much until I saw you in ASDA. I never should have left. I never should have blocked you." He said, a tear falling from his blue eyes. "I'm so sorry you had to go through all of that alone. Thats never what I wanted. But, I promise to be the best dad to her, whether we're together or not."

"I know you will be," You said, and pulled Henry in for another kiss.

The groceries were put away a few minutes later and you told Henry to go and play with Aurorra while you cooked, which he happily did.

He walked down the hallway to her bedroom, and smiled lovingly when he saw his daughter sitting on the ground playing with blocks, a stuffed Akita just like Kal secure under her arm. She was babbling to a Mickey Mouse toy that sat in the corner of the room, and was stacking blocks.

Henry began to walk in the room when she stopped babbling let out a sneeze and a sigh. He grabbed a Kleenex from the change table and sat down next to her.

"Hey sweetheart, can I wipe your nose?" Henry asked, seeing the snot coming from her nose due to the sneeze. She looked up at him and giggled, which Henry took as a yes, and he wiped her nose quickly before disposing of it in the garbage can.

She began babbling again, and pushed the Akita stuffy into his hands. "Goggy," She said, and clapped, which made Henry smile.

"It is a doggy. I have a doggy like your stuffy, wanna see?" He asked, and she nodded and clapped.

Henry pulled out his phone and pulled up a picture of Kal. Aurorra stood up and clambered into his lap, which Henry welcomed. When she saw the picture of Kal, she started bouncing and clapping again.

"Goggy! Goggy wun!" She exclaimed when he showed her a video of him running.

"Thats right, he is running. He's really good at it too, believe me." Henry said and put his phone away. Aurorra stood up and reached out her arm for him, opening and closing her fist. Henry stood up, and let her take his big hand in her tiny one, and lead him out of the room, and towards the back door that led to the backyard, babbling the entire way.

"Hold on, honey, we gotta tell Mama we're going outside, okay?" He said and she nodded before running to the kitchen shouting Mama.

Henry watched as she stood in the doorway and babbled before pointing at the door. She held her hand in front of her face and moved it out, closing it into a fist.

"You're going outside?" You asked, and she nodded. Henry saw you bend down and whisper something into her ear with a smile on your face and Aurorra giggle but didn't think much of it, before his little girl was running towards him and squealing.

He scooped her up and carried her out the door. She pointed at the toy box in the corner of the yard and Henry carried her over. He sat her down and opened it, before letting her pick what she wanted to play with. She grabbed a bucket with shovels and molds before running over to the lady bug sandbox and patting the lid. Henry chuckled and pulled the lid off.

"You wanna play in the sand?" He asked, and she nodded before climbing in.

Henry sat down next to her, and a shovel was thrust into his hand seconds later. She had a bright yellow one in her own hand and was digging a hole. Henry followed suit and helped her dig the hole.

A few minutes later she handed Henry a elephant mold.

"Put, Dada." She said, and Henry's breath caught in his throat, the mold falling from his hand.

"Did you say Dada?" He asked her, tears clouding his vision, and he saw her smile and point at the house.

"Mama, say." she said, picking up the elephant mold again.

"Mama told you I'm your Dada?"

She nodded and shook the mold in his face, practically begging him to take it. Henry smiled and pulled her out of the sand box, into his arms.

"I am your Dada, and I promise you I will love you forever." He said, and kissed her cheeks. She giggled before pointing at the sand box and doing grabby hands. Henry chuckled but put her back where she was. He picked up the mold and began to fill it with sand before she got upset.

"I apologize for interrupting your playtime," He said. "Now, lets make some animals."

Later that night, when Aurorra had been fed and put to bed, Henry pressed another kiss to your lips.

"She called me Dada when we were playing outside." He confessed and your eyes lit up.

"Really? I told her before she went out with you that you were her Dada, I wasn't expecting her to say it so soon!" You exclaimed. Henry chuckled, and pulled you into his lap.

"I'm so happy she did. Thank you for giving me her." He said, pressing his lips to yours before you could respond.

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x y/n #Henry Cavill fluff #henry cavill angst #henry cavill imagine #Henry Cavill x reader #Henry Cavill x you #dad!henry cavill #Henry Cavill x single mom!reader #Henry Cavill fanfiction

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archerjyn · 3 years ago

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don’t you dare (make me fall in love with you) (k.shinsuke)

pairing: Kita x gn!reader [but reader is referred to as pretty]

genre: angst </3

summary: Kita was being rational, even if that meant breaking his own heart every time he saw you.

[uthor’s note: my heart is sore from writing this. Listen to don’t you dare (make me fall in love with you) by Kaden MacKay.]

main mast | hq mast

It was platonic at first. He simply thought you were attractive and sweet, with how often you’d show up at his door to deliver freshly baked pastries for his grandma. You always made sure to make them “less sweet since she can’t enjoy it with her tea if it’s too sweet,” as you’d always say. He found you were considerate when he saw you walking an elderly man across the street despite how late you were for work. He thought it adorable how you’d gush at the neighborhood cats. It was platonic. You were just his friend. His very good, very pretty friend.

But then he saw you breaking down in the middle of the street during heavy rain. And when he approached you, wordlessly, with his umbrella in his hand and draped his coat over you, he realized something. That you were no longer a background character with no development or plot but rather a main character. He wasn’t sure what it was exactly that made him fall for you, but he narrowed it down to three things.

One of them was the way you sobbed into his chest, grabbing his now soaking t-shirt and apologizing that you had gotten him wet despite being the one that was hurt. The second, most likely, was the way you looked at him when he started crying. He didn’t know what it was that possessed him to start doing so, but the second he did, you looked up immediately and wiped his tears. It was a small gesture, but it meant everything to him. You didn’t act like it was the end of the world that the Kita Shinsuke was crying; you treated him like a regular person with regular emotions and feelings. The last (possible) reason was that afterward, you dragged him to your home and made him a meal for his troubles.

Sitting at your table feeling the warmth of your home wrap around him as you danced around the kitchen filled him with contentment. And when you turned around, holding a spoon to his mouth asking if your stew was “too salty,” he saw a life with you. He saw himself coming home to you after a long day in the fields; he saw himself engulfed in your arms despite how sweaty he was; he saw himself marrying you and having children with you. He saw himself falling in love with you.

Your eyes were so enchanting that every time he looked into them, he became bewitched. He loved the way his name rolled off your tongue, like sweet honey dripping from a spoon. Kita never thought he was one for something so cliché, but when you tripped and stumbled into his arms, he felt like he was flying. There was something about being there to catch you, literally and metaphorically, that filled him with pride.

Yet he knew he’d never get to love you. At least, not in the way he wanted. He would never get to bring you flowers for every date, hold open doors for you, take your hand in his when you walked down the stairs, or even walk on the outside of the sidewalk to keep you safe. And he would never get to feel your head on his chest or smell your hair after you’ve just showered. He would never know what your lips felt like on his because you didn’t love him. Not in the way he wanted you to.

And as he hid in the fields, knees tucked to his chest and sobbing into his dirtied gloves, he realized that loving you might have been the most irrational thing he’d ever done. He thought over and over of things to do to occupy his mind, and surely, he thought working in the fields would do him justice. But it proved worse. Because within minutes, you were at his side rubbing his back and telling him everything was going to be okay. You had stopped by to drop off some lunch you had made, for him and figured he was hard at work. Even after you were gone, he felt the wound in his heart sting. This was going to repeat tomorrow, and the day after, and he wasn’t sure if he could handle it.

When he was sure you were asleep, Kita sent you a quick text, reassuring you that he was alright. But you knew he was just pushing you away, and at this, you felt yourself sob. He would never let you near him. You would never get to know what was going on in his mind or know his heart. You were never going to be loved by him, not in the way you wanted him to.

[author's note: I kind of want to write a part 2 to this just because I feel like Shin deserves to be happy. But idk lol. Lmk if I should write a part 2!]

#kita shinsuke #kita x reader #kita x you #kita x y/n #komikresim #shinsuke x you #haikyuu fluff #kita shinsuke angst #kita x reader angst #kita shinsuke x reader angts #kita shinsuke x you #kita shinsuke x y/n

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orionwhispers · 4 years ago

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Bravado // Tommy Shelby Imagine

(A/N - its been a long ass time and i wanted to ease myself back into writing but this ended up being long and also super super angsty. sorry that this illness imagine came during covid idk whats going on with my imagination lol. love you guys SO much thank you for always being there. reblogs, comments and likes mean everything to me.)

trigger warnings - LOTS of angst. fluff. implied smut. my hc that tommy has a fear of illness, bad descriptions of hospitals.

He knew something wasn’t right the minute his car pulled into the driveway and you weren’t waiting for him under the great concrete arch, with that smile on your face that made his knees buckle and heart race like he was a love struck teenager.

You were always there as soon as he came home. Barefoot in a broderie dress in the summer with tousled hair and baby pink toenails. Wrapped in a hand knit blanket with fire flushed cheeks and woollen socks in the winter - even running across the gravel and into his arms in the middle of a storm, the ice cold rain whipping across both of your faces as you kissed under the light of the moon.

No matter how shit his day or week or month was, no matter what stained his hands or darkened his heart, no matter what lay heavy and hard deep in his gut, seeing you made everything vanish in the night air like wisps of smoke. You made everything worth it.

He refused to give into fear, he wasn’t that kind of man, so he swallowed all of the nagging thoughts and apprehensions as he came up to the dark foggy windows and the iron cast door. It felt strange turning his key in the lock without the weight of you in his arms or the sticky peach kisses you left down his jaw and neck, the smell of the vanilla in your hair and lavender on your skin.

The second thing that sent a jolt of white hot electricity down his spine was Mary, watching him anxiously and wringing her hands in the hallway. Usually, she was calm and collected, taking his jacket and leather travel bag with her signature placid smile and gentle fingers. Usually she would return to the kitchen and finish up whatever she was making - a hearty roast lamb with rosemary and garlic and glazed potatoes or a pheasant pie with honeyed carrots, always followed by a three layer chocolate ganache cake that was so thick and rich you practically had to saw through the sponge. She would always have dinner piping hot and dripping with gravy by the time the two of you returned downstairs, no matter how many hours it took for you to get... reacquainted.

Now she looked sheepish and pale, her skin almost translucent under the syrupy yellow lights. There was something about the way she stood, as still as a wraith, that made his blood run cold.

“Mary. Where is she?”

“Mr Shelby, I - ” Her voice was strained and hesitant, like a slowly fraying rope.

“Where is my wife?”

She moved forward, creases forming around her eyes. “We tried ringing you in Liverpool but the hotel said that you had already left, so we...”

“You rang me? Why? What’s happened?” He couldn’t hold back the desperation in his voice, and it lingered and festered around them both like a poisonous gas.

“Mrs Shelby came down with something a few days ago, we thought that it was just a common cold but unfortunately she seems to be getting worse.”

He tore upstairs before he could even think, his shoes leaving perfect muddy footprints on the cream carpet. He almost slipped at the top, and he lurched forward, his hands reaching out and holding onto the portrait hanging above the stairs for stability.

It was the oil of the two of you. A soft, personal picture that revealed more than he ever possibly could. The love in your gazes, the hint of a soft, drunk smile on the dangerous gangsters face as you leaned into him, melting into him like butter, him holding onto you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go. It was his favourite photo, one that always washed a sense of calmness over him, a reminder of the woman that he loved and the way he felt around you. But now he felt as if was riding out a terrible storm.

He lived his life with no fear, he was capable and practical and used to the sound of bullets and the copper sweet smell of blood. There was really only one thing, one terrible thing that he couldn’t control, and that was what drove him crazy.

Sickness.

It gnawed at his insides like a rabid dog, clawed under his skin and settled behind his ribs. Losing someone he loved was like ripping out a piece of his heart straight from his chest, and he knew better than anyone what it was like to lose somebody to a violent, quick death - the pull of a trigger or the smack of a fist. At least in those moments he could lock them away in his mind, he could leap in front of a bullet or crack the neck of any man who dared to get too close to you, but there was almost nothing he could do to stop sickness, and the devastation it caused.

When you first met him it had been a surprise, almost amusing, that this powerful God of a man had these small little quirks. His house was always sparkling clean and smelling of Lysol, his fruit bowls were filled with citrus fruits and round, plump blueberries. He always made sure you were wrapped up warm in the winter, always placing his coat around your shoulders and bringing an extra pair of gloves in case you forgot yours. It was adorable, the way he took care of you,

It wasn’t till a little bit later when you learnt of those he had lost. His mother and his childhood sweetheart taken away from him much too soon. It broke your heart when he told you late one night of the sallow tint of their skin and the way he could almost see them vanishing from earth, the way that illness had moulded and changed those he loved the most.

You understood.

Your best friends older sister had died of tuberculosis when you were young. The elderly woman across the street from your first flat had passed away from a bout of horrendous smallpox. Your brother lost his first child to pneumonia. Times were changing but the fear of disease was ever present. Medicine was improving and so was knowledge, but still there remained a huge, dark cloud of what could happen, one that always hung around your husbands head.

——————————————-

All Tommy could think was the worst as he ran through the landing. His heart was in his ears and his bones felt loose, like the sweet liquorice the two of you would share at the pictures. He came to a stop by the bedroom door, tentatively pressing his palm onto the wood and ever so slightly pushing it open, listening to the gentle creak it made.

The room was warm. The lace curtains were pulled shut, and your favourite lavender candles were flickering on your vanity, casting syrupy shadows against the wall. He exhaled loudly as he saw you, bundled up under a mountain of satin sheets and hand crocheted blankets, your hair splayed across the pillows.

He moved to your bedside, pretending not to notice the large, untouched jug of water and the tissue box next to you, hoping and silently praying that you weren’t sick - just asleep and waiting for him, ready to wrap your arms around his neck.

You were silent, your lips parting every so often as you breathed, your chest rising and falling. He reached out gently, as though he was picking up shards of glass, and brushed his fingers against your cheek. Your forehead was beading with sweat, your cheeks flushed, and yet your skin was ice cold to the touch. He recoiled quickly, his heart dropping like a weight into his gut, and he inhaled a shaky, deep breath.

He saw something curled up beside your hands, a fluffy white cloud with sparkling emerald green eyes trained on him. Despite everything, he smiled. He thought of your birthday - of strawberry cheesecake and champagne, and surprising you with a ribbon wrapped little kitten as you woke up. He thought of that day often. How you smiled and leapt onto him with tears in your eyes, his whole world blissfully quiet as he spent the day in bed with you and your new best friend.

He would have preferred a big dog, one with sharp teeth and a menacing gaze to ward of visitors whilst he was away. But you were drawn to the tiny, malnourished runt of the litter who was scared of his own shadow. A kitten no bigger than the size of his clenched fist. A little white hairball who only ate and drank from fine pink saucers. A cat that had a very frustrating habit of crawling in the bedroom right as Tommy’s hand was up your skirt and his lips on the sweet spot of your neck, the tiny thing mewling and crying until you picked him up and nuzzled him into your chest.

He was a horse lover through and through, and never saw himself having time for any other pets. But in the summer when you saw the litter from one of John’s barn cats and fell in love with the sweet baby who mewled and cried and crawled right into your lap - he knew that he would give you anything and everything you wanted.

Including a cat who refused to accept that Tommy was the man of the house.

“Hello, boy.” He said, leaning over to scratch Comet under the chin, using a voice he only reserved for the two of you. “Have you been looking after my girl whilst I’ve been gone?”The cat meowed loudly in reply, pressing his head into Tommy’s palm but not moving from his spot beside you.

Tommy suddenly felt you shift under him and his heart lurched into his throat. He turned to face you, cupping the side of your clammy face as your eyelids fluttered open, blinking under the candlelight. A rush of red hot heat built up in his belly as you registered him, that angelic smile growing on your face, your tired eyes glimmering with recognition of the man you loved.

“Tommy?”

“Hi, Princess.”

You smiled sadly. “You’ve been gone for weeks - I missed you.”

He felt his brows crease as he rubbed along your jawline softly, trying to stop you from falling back asleep. He felt panic in his throat as sour as vomit, and he tried to bite back the nagging feeling that something was very wrong.

“No, sweetheart, I’m early. It’s only Thursday. I left on Monday.”

“Oh.” You said softly, your voice as gentle as the breeze rustling through the trees outside. “Well let me welcome you back properly - let me make you a lemon drizzle or a...” You lifted your head from the pillow and shuffled under your blanket, but he pressed his hands against your shoulder and held you down.

“No. You’re staying right here.”

“But - ”

“No.”

“Hmm. Don’t leave me, Tommy.”

“Never.” He said, his tone firm and cast like stone. He stroked your hair softly as your breathing slowed, but it didn’t nothing to quell the hard thump of his heart in his chest.

——————————-

Tommy left the room as quietly as he could after you had fallen asleep in his arms. He hadn’t wanted to move, not when you were pressed against his chest, looking ethereal but vacant, sweat beading under your brow and your face lacking colour. He wanted to stay with you, curled up by his side, his fingers laced through yours, the sound of your heart thumping in his ears.

But he was a man of action, and seeing you there - your lips cracked and dry, shudders passing through your body and goosebumps raised over your skin - he couldn’t fight the fiery urge to do everything in his power to make you feel alright again.

He found Mary waiting outside the door, chewing on the skin of her lips and swaying on the balls of her feet in anticipation. He grabbed her by the arm, harder than he meant to and something he would apologise for later, and pulled her downstairs, determined to let you rest whilst he got some answers. As soon as they reached the drawing room he spun her around, clenching his jaw and pointing a finger at the anxious maid.

“Where the fuck is the doctor? Why isn’t he here?”

“Mr Shelby.” She said, stepping forward calmly. “We phoned Doctor Moore and he came on Tuesday to see her.”

“Tuesday?” He seethed. “My wife has been ill since Tuesday and no one called me?”

Mary raised her hands in defeat, making it clear that the decision wasn’t hers to make. “He said it was nothing of concern . He gave her some antibiotics and told her to rest. She asked us herself not to call you, she knows how you.. worry.”

He ignored her sugar coated attempt to quell his anger, but if anything it made his vision darken. “When it’s my wife, It is always my concern.”

“Mr Shelby, we were just doing what we were told. As soon as we noticed she wasn’t getting better we phoned the surgery again, but Doctor Thomas was out for the day and said he didn’t think it was necessary to come round again, so we -”

“I don’t give a fuck. My wife is the number one priority. Ring every doctor in England if you have to, get somebody out here now to see my wife.”

He stormed away, anger pulsating through his veins, but he stopped suddenly, and threw out over his shoulder:

“And call Doctor Moore’s ’office. Tell him to expect a visit from the blinders soon.”

———————————————————

Once, when you were first dating, you found Tommy at the door to your flat at midnight, with scraped knuckles and blood dripping from his nose. You let him in, cleaned him up and sat with him in the bath until his skin was clear and his breathing was even. He knew that night, as you were pressed against his chest and his lips were pressed to your scalp that he was truly, madly and completely in love with you.

He remembered waking up the next morning, love drunk and blissful, and finding the bed beside him empty. He found you in the kitchen, wincing slightly and pressing a hot water bottle to your belly as you buttered a few pieces of toast. He rushed to your side with eyes as wide as saucers, concern lacing the features that were usually ice cold and hard as stone. You were completely baffled as he held you at arms length, his bright cerulean eyes trailing up and down your body for any signs of injury he might have missed. You were bewildered at the sight of the powerful man practically on his knees as he made sure you were alright, and you bit back a giggle as his warm palms spread over your abdomen.

“What is it? Whats wrong?”

“Tommy. Sweetheart.” You said softly, bringing his gaze level to yours. “It’s just - you know - that time of the month.”

He brushed off your embarrassment and ran his fingers through your hair, pressing a uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead, sending a swarm of butterflies around the pain in your stomach.

“Do you need anything?” He asked, half ready to run down to the corner shop and buy any amount of painkillers or chocolate bars or your favourite lavender tea that you might need; not caring who saw the seemingly terrifying gang leader in the street with an armful of strawberry laces and salt water fudges.

You smiled like the summer sun and he melted, pulling you close as you whispered in the shell of his ear that you only needed him, and that was all you ever needed.

That was the first time you fully saw the extent of Tommy’s fear, but it definitely wasn’t the last. He knew he wanted you forever and always, and it took only six months of neck kisses and pillow talk, red hot jealousy and possessive hands across your skin and dancing in the rain and falling asleep under the pale yellow moon for him to put a ring on your finger. You were both consumed by your love, as though it was the only thing that mattered, it was insatiable and powerful - the wonderful mix of the devil and his sweet little angel.

And with that, came the good and the bad.

Like when you got food poisoning after Arthur cooked you a Sunday lunch to cheer you up whilst Tommy was gone. He came home to you retching over the toilet bowl with Mary holding back your hair, and swore that he would kill his brother with his own hands. Or when you slipped on ice and broke your arm while out with friends in London, and Tommy went ballistic and tried to ban you from ever leaving the house. It was just in his nature, how he always made sure you walked on the side furthest from the road, kept an arm slung around you whenever you were together, kept his eyes alert and vigilant no matter where you were - always looking out for his girl.

But he had never been like this.

———————————————————-

You were falling in and out of sleep. Waking up drowsy and heavy headed, squinting under bright lights, an ache in your skull and a burning in your throat. Every so often you felt a pinch in your upper arm, a squeeze on your palm, a kiss on your forehead - but you always drifted back into unconsciousness.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you woke up. The room was dark and you could hear the wind howling and whipping rain across the windows. You felt all too hot and all too cold at the same time, and the bed was damp with sweat. You struggled and tried to sit up, your head swaying and feeling as heavy as one of Tommy’s marble statues; as if you had been carved up and moulded. You could hear voices out in the hall, and unsteadily got to your feet, moving towards the noises.

“Pneumonia?” You heard through the thick wooden door, instantly recognising your husbands voice. “That’s impossible.”

“Sir...”

“Fucking. Impossible.” You knew his teeth were clenched.

The other man cleared his throat.“I know that it’s hard to hear, Mr Shelby, but your wife is very sick.”

“Just...” You felt your heart flutter and clench in your chest as the sound of his broken words, could practically feel his desperation and you wanted nothing more than to hold him. “Just tell me how to make her better.”

The second man spoke again, his voice softening and lowering, something you knew Tommy would hate. “Mr Shelby, the first round of antibiotics didn’t work and that means that it’s time for something stronger. Usually I would suggest the Birmingham hospital but I don’t think it’s equipped for...” He paused, trying to think over his words carefully. He wanted to convey the severity of the situation but also didn’t want to risk getting a bullet in his head from your very protective husband. “...This kind of reaction. I recommend we send her down to London for extra testing.”

“London? That’ll take two fucking hours. How the fuck can you recommend letting my wife travel that far? Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“I’m my opinion this is the wisest choice to make, but unfortunately that could mean your wife might get worse before she gets better.”

“Worse than she already is? That’s not an option.”

The man you assumed was the doctor was insistent, trying his best to portray the severity of the situation but failing as your hardheaded husband had already come to a decision.

“I’ll look after her here. She’s safest with me.”

Once Tommy had spoken that was the final result, and the doctor slinked away into the darkness and shook his head. You remained peering from behind the door, your tongue between your teeth and your heart hammering.

Tommy took one look at you and frowned, scooping you in his arms like a baby despite your protests. He ignored you, acting playfully and cheerful but you could feel his heated skin and the see flare of his nostrils. You wanted to help him but didn’t know how, and let him tuck you under the covers once again. He kissed your crown and stroked your hair and you wanted to speak but no words would leave your mouth.

“You stay there this time. You know I have no problem with tying you to the bed.”

You rolled your eyes as he left, and his clenched fists and tightened shoulders told you all you needed to know.

————————————————-

Comet watched from his spot beside you as Tommy wrestled with the fire. He had noticed you shivering despite your high temperature, and bundled you up in blankets whilst sparking matches beside the fireplace. There were raindrops across his shoulders, evidence that he had been outside and to the log store right at the end of the property - a job that had always been for the Groundskeeper. Your precious cat nudged the tips of your fingers as you sighed and watched your husband throw kindling onto the coal, a deep unease settling over your gut.

“Tommy, my love, I’m fine.” It wasn’t exactly true but you felt he needed to hear it. But you could practically see your words wash over him and evaporate like ocean spray.

He was shaking a metal tin in his palm as he worked, and you groaned and let your head hit the pillow as he pulled out two round chalky tablets. You winced as he placed them beside your glass, your mouth already tasting like the sour talc medicine you had come to loathe. He raised his eyebrows and shot you a look that told you he wasn’t far off plugging your nose with his fingers to force you to swallow, and you childishly stuck up two fingers as you took them.

Your stomach rumbled with nausea and you bit back the bile in your throat as you settled into the pillows. You watched your husband as he pulled off his crisp white shirt, revealing his taut tan stomach and the deep ink tattoos that you loved to trace with your fingertips and your lips. There was something about him standing there, with those damn cerulean eyes and hidden muscles, that boyish hair and slender fingers that you wanted desperately around your throat, that made a million tiny fireworks spark inside of you.

But instead you pushed him away from you despite your body wanting nothing but him wrapped all around you. “Don’t get too close. I might have something contagious. I can’t have you getting sick.”

He ignored you, smiling inwardly at the way you always put others before yourself. It was one of the million reasons he had fallen for you. You were sweating out a high fever and shivering in pain, and yet you always thought of him first. He pressed his lips to your temple and pulled you closer, knowing that skin to skin was a way to bring down a fever - even if it meant he had to restrain himself from tugging off your pretty little white nightgown and whatever frilly things you had on underneath.

“I’m not going anywhere. Fuck it if I catch anything.”

“That’s easy for you to say. I’m the one who will have to dote on you hand and foot, you big baby.” You teased, pressing yourself into him playfully, finally giving in.

He held you like a child, trying to hard to soften despite the way you felt underneath him. Everything on him was running a mile a minute, and he couldn’t help but want to try everything and everything to make you feel better. His hand was pressed against your temple to always try and measure your fever, his other palm across your chest to try and count your heart rate.

He could hear Mary treading across the landing carpet but he ignored his anxious maid, instead letting himself be completely consumed by the only thing that mattered - you.

This was something he had to do by himself. He was the only one who could care for you he reminded himself. And he let the words tumble over and over in his skull until they were all he could hear.

—————————————————————-

You had been asleep for a long time.

Every hour, after pacing the length of the hall and sanitising his hands and wiping the beads of sweat above your brow and above your breasts he woke you up and held a cool glass to your lips. You mumbled and moaned and pushed him away but he kept his fingers across your wrist - harsher than he ever had before - and kept you as close to him as possible.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had cooked. Perhaps it was last valentines when the two of you had camped out under the stars, drinking icy white wine and sharing stolen, day drunk kisses. That night he had roasted a chicken over the fire and it had burnt to a crisp as the two of you rolled around the grass, his head buried in your neck as you giggled at the poultry going up in flames.

He was trying now though, easy, plain substantial meals that wouldn’t upset your stomach. Boiled egg and dippy soldiers. Crackers with smooth cheese. Bubbly water and ginger biscuits. Each time he went upstairs you pushed him away, your whole body shuddering and almost retching, and he felt like smashing the plates against the wall at his defeat.

It had been almost thirty six hours since he had come home and it had been almost as long since you had eaten something, and his heart thundered and shattered in his chest when he found you gasping and wheezing over the toilet bowl when you had taken a bite of toast to calm him. He rarely left you alone, only for a few minutes to put the still full dishes in the sink, to ring Lizzie and tell her that he wouldn’t be coming for reasons that he refused to disclose, to smoke a cigarette under the grey stone archway, his shaking hands and bitten fingernails barely visible through the sleepy rolling fog.

He had grabbed handfuls of papers and the brass ink pen you had got him for your anniversary and broke his own rule - bringing work into your bedroom. It had always been a sacred space. For candlelight and soft laughter, aching hands and heart shaped bruises, a sanctuary for him to breathe and to love and to be loved fully in return. But he was afraid if he didn’t have a distraction, he might just completely lose it, and he had to be there for you.

So he sat squinting in his glasses, the room almost completely dark save for a few candles because of the migraines that had started to spread throughout your skull, and let himself be drawn into the mess of squiggly lines and numbers that suddenly didn’t add up, with you still centre stage in his peripheral.

After about forty minutes of rereading the same sentence a dozen times to try and make some sense of it, he heard your voice, like a small crack spreading across a sheet of ice, coming from the bed.

“Tom?” You sounded so weak, he practically flipped your cream vanity as he got to his feet and darted towards you. “I don’t feel well.”

He lifted you as you reached your arms up at him like a child. He almost gasped at the sweat pouring from your body but didn’t want to scare you, and instead held your shaking, shivering body against his own. How could you be so hot, yet so cold at the same time? Your skin was prickled with goosebumps yet you were burning with a fever, and for the first time in a long time, he had no fucking idea what to do.

He left you propped up against the headboard and he entered the bathroom. He ran over to the claw foot tub you loved, twisting the faucet and trying to find the perfect medium between boiling hot and freezing cold. He didn’t want to overwhelm you, just try and soothe your raging fever, and he ignored the shelves of expensive bath oils and scented soaps that you coveted, instead opting for a handful of something meant to ease tension - praying to whoever was listening that it would help you somehow.

There was a brutal, awful moment as he lifted you from the bed, limp as a rag doll, where he imagined what would happen if your heart were to stop. He couldn’t comprehend what it would be like to miss the weight of you in his arms, the smell of your skin, the feeling of your lips against him, the shovels stopping and fading into nothing. It hit him square in the chest, as merciless as a bullet, and he had to lean against the doorframe to stop the two of you from plummeting to the ground.

He undressed himself first. Tugging his white shirt off, sliding off his slacks and his underwear, keeping you as close to his chest as he could. Then he pulled your nightgown up and over your head. He gathered your hair and secured it up with a claw clip so that it was away from your face, the heat radiating off your neck as fierce as the fire now burnt down to ash in the bedroom.

He lowered the two of you into the bath, sinking down beneath the eucalyptus smelling lukewarm water, letting it wash over you both. Your teeth were chattering and you were barely awake. He gathered handfuls of water, letting it drip over your shoulders and pulse points, grabbing a washcloth and running it over your raised skin, hating how you barely registered his touch. As he scrubbed over your collarbones and up to your face he saw your lips had turned to an awful, silvery blue, as vibrant as a fresh bruise. He hissed and tugged on the plug, now determined to get you wrapped up in a fresh towel and tucked back into bed.

You were soft and placid and he helped you out, lacking the usual fire that he adored. Your eyes were glassy and missing their vibrance, like the vanishing spark of a lighter - and he felt miles and miles of invisible distance between the two of you. You were unsteady on your feet and he used his body to prop you up as he warmed your arms with a fluffy white towel. You suddenly stopped, lifting your hand to your mouth as you started to cough - a horrible, dry, gasping cough.

He noticed it almost immediately. His eyes darting to the splatter of red against the white, a smudge of crimson that was as loud and commanding as a siren, a warning signal that something was definitely not right. A bead of scarlet that would linger long behind his closed eyelids.

He managed to get you back into bed, remaining calm as he stroked your hair and kissed your temple. He tucked you under the duvet and waited for your breathing to even before he ran downstairs, his heart thumping in his ears as he practically ripped the phone off of the wall.

“Pol? Fuck. I think - I think I need help.”

—————————————————————-

The room smelt like bleach and metal. Unfamiliar and clinical. There was something hard on your chest and covering your mouth, it tasted like wet pennies and was as heavy as a hand over your throat, but for the first time in days you could finally breathe. You tried to sit up, but there was a needle in your chest, a gown you didn’t recognise cut straight down the middle to accommodate it. You struggled and lifted the thin bedsheet above your shivering torso, trying to look around the cold room.

“Careful!”

It was Polly, dressed immaculately despite her surroundings. She reached out and placed a manicured hand across yours, and you smiled at the woman who had always been a calming influence when you had joined the circus of a family. There was concern in her eyes, rimmed with black eyeliner and lifted lashes but still swimming deep around her pupils. That made you frown, and you moved as much as you could to face her.

“What happened?”

She ran her tongue over her teeth, choosing her words. “You gave us quite a fright, love.”

“I did?” Your memories of the past few days were much like a fever dream, blurry and distorted snapshots were all you could really remember.

“Your pneumonia got worse. A lot worse.” She paused, looking over to the door and you followed her gaze. “They found fluid in your lungs.”

“So...” You started, gesturing to the needle in your abdomen and the breathing apparatus around your head.

She nodded. “Yes. You were in surgery. It was touch and go for a little bit.”

“Really?” You were bewildered. You couldn’t remember anything, let alone having major surgery. You looked her straight in the eye, asking her the questions that had been on the tip of your tongue since you had woken up. “Where is he? Where’s Tommy?”

“He’s outside.” She clicked her tongue, reaching deep into her purse and pulling out some hand cream, gently rubbing your dry hands like she was your mother. You leant into her touch despite all of your questions.

“What? Why?”

“I think he blames himself. God knows what goes on in that mans head. All I really know is he was bloody terrified.” She paused, looking over in the distance. “I’ve never seen him so scared, not even on his wedding day.” She smiled sadly, trying to lighten the mood, but it soon faded. “He didn’t leave your side the whole time you were asleep.”

Your heart thumped in your chest, a soft aching that you knew all too well. “I want to see him.”

“I know you do. But right now...” She stopped right as a handful of nurses entered, clad in long blue dresses with white aprons, hair tied back and smelling of strong soap and disinfectant. You lost Polly in the bustle as one spoke softly to you before tugging on the needle right beside your ribs, your eyes just catching hers as she left, a promise to see you soon on her lips.

It wasn’t her you saw next, but Tommy.

The nurses had cleaned you up with wet flannels and bowls of warm soapy water. Your hair had been braided and your face washed, and walked you arm in arm over to the bathroom so you could relieve yourself. A skittish doctor followed after, his eyes darting across you and his touch gentle as he changed your dressings and took your blood - obviously under strict instructions from your husband, and despite everything, you smiled.

You were sat listening to the clock tick. A romance novel you had been given was dangling dangerously close to the end of the bed, but you were too tired to focus on it. You heard the door squeal softly, and the sound of familiar footsteps across the tiling, each small thud sending shockwaves across your spine.

“Tommy.”

He looked tired. Exhausted rather, as though he had been awake all the hours that you had been asleep. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin was sallow and bruised. His clean shaven face was dark with stubble and his hair was ruffled and unwashed. You longed to reach out to him and cradle him against you, but he stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost.

“Tommy?” You repeated, your voice almost a whisper, breaking his already shattered heart once again.

“How are you feeling, my love?”

You smiled softly, like spun sugar and sweet honey. No hospital bed or itchy gown could dull your infectious light. “Better now.”

He approached you almost cautiously. He settled down on the hard chair beside your bed and stroked a line down from your temple to your lips, his touch setting you alight like an electrical storm. There was a sadness in his eyes that reminded you of how he got when things were bad, and you willed him to come back to you. His touch was tentative and he inhaled shakily as you cupped his hand with yours, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of his palm.

“Don’t scare me like that. Ever.” He was stern, as though hoping his words would make it true. “I mean it.” He kept his gaze on your pretty face, trying his best not to stare at the harsh bruising on your delicate flesh or the sickly tone of your skin.

“Tommy I’m going to get sick, even you can’t stop that.” You teased gently.

“I can bloody well try.” His hands cradled your face, pulling you into him and kissing you fiercely, still mindful of the wires and tubes taped to your body. There was something about the tenderness and deep longing in the kiss that when mixed with your total exhaustion and love for your husband prompted tears to start falling from your eyes. You sniffled as he pulled away, concern dripping from his beautiful features, his powerful mind wanting to do everything and anything to stop your hurting.

“Hey, hey.” He said, running his calloused fingertips under your eyes and wiping your tears away. You leant into his touch and he kissed your temple, squeezing you even tighter into him. “You know I hate it when you cry.” He toyed with your hair and winked playfully. “Besides, all you need to focus on is getting better. You’re going to have to take care of me when we get home, this week has given me a fucking stroke.”

You rolled your eyes, kissing the inside of his wrist. “You’re a idiot, Thomas Shelby.” You blinked at the clock looming above you both, wanting to stay in your blissful bubble but also knowing that Aunt Pol would probably be in the vicinity harassing a poor nurse over your results. “You should go and find Polly, let her know that everything’s alright.”

He shook his head and nuzzled his nose across yours, an act so innocent that your heart dipped and swooped in your chest. “Later.” He said, breathless and consumed by you. Everything had been too much. Almost losing you had been harrowing, it had punctured him completely and he just needed to feel his girl safe and warm around him. He needed to know that you weren’t found anywhere.

“I just want to stay here for a while. Just me and you.”

You grinned. “Always.”

#tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders oneshot #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby oneshot

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muffindaddystyles · 4 years ago

Text

Hates to, Hate you.

Word Count: 8k

Summary: Harry realizes that hurting Y/N broke him into pieces and tries to win her back with the confession of true feelings, will Y/N let him? If yes, how? How will he walk through fire for her?

Pairing: Famous!Harry x Reader!with anxiety.

AU: fake dating, slow burn, sexual tension, enemies to lover!

Warning: Mentions of violence, sexual assault, language, adult topics.

PART 1, MASTERLIST

"Please, stop." He says dolefully rubbing his eyebrows to get rid of the ache pounding in his head.

He's miserable. It hurts to not have her with him. It's been two tragic months of going through constant sleepless nights, disrestless stomach, intoxicating himself to forget her, staring at things like a hawk and missing her terribly.

He was alone before her and never felt this lonely.

He sees her everywhere. In his dreams and her shadows in his drawing room getting excited over a ceramic vase someone gifted him. Dancing in his kitchen to the beat of pink floyd and hip-checking him for a cheerful nudge, in his back garden rescuing a sparrow who broke it's neck and in his attic stressing over her assignments.

Everything reminds him of her. The fruity drinks that the barista's handing to the people, the fairy lights upon their heads and how she used to fond over them —- buying it for his bedroom too and when he refused to hang them, she just brushed off his snarky comment and did it herself.

The ring in Harris finger floods back all the bitter-sweet memories of the time he refused to have a lil fun with her, (Y/N and Harris made friendship rings and bracelets for eachother with the colorful beads to spend their boring time in his home waiting for him to write some lines before they went to a gumball shop) as they try to knock some senses in their friend's brain, "You tried to dodge a heartbreak and still ended up shattering your heart, yourself." They worry about him. That he's been bearing the pain all alone and not sharing it with anyone.

His voice croak-y and hoarse, "How's she?" The question haunts him. She blocked his phone number and even in the wee hours of night he wrecks his mind whether he should call her or not, he couldn't because she doesn't want to hear his voice.

He misses her voice. He misses her complaints and whines as if they filled the stoic parts of his life with happiness.

"How'd I know?" Harris lowers down to rest their elbows on the table, "I -- I thought . . she isn't in contact with ye'?" When Harris shakes their head with a gesture that he's being truthful it sinks his heart furthermore.

He clears his throat, twisting the jewels on his hand and sucks his bottom lip to muster some courage, "I've been seeing someone." Harris chokes on the boba they were chewing on for so long, "You what?" They are completely perturbed at his statement. Even though they've been working together and been friends before Y/N came in the picture, she's still their bezzy and we don't betray our bezzies like that.

"Yeah, someone to help me sort me feelings out." Harry frowns confusedly and then realization washes upon him so he becomes frantic in his chair, "No . . not what you're thinkin'." He runs his fingers through his hair to subside the twitch in them.

"A therapist, 'm talkin' bout a therapist . ." He sighs watching his tea waft down sympathetically.

"Oh. That's a good start, Harry!" Harris tries to bring the same dimply boyish smile that used to flutter over his lips whenever she used to tease him, unfortunately it never appears.

Y/N didn't handle her first ever heartbreak well. She lost her appetite, her focus on her studies and to her surprise didn't shed a single tear –-- it just kept piling in her chest and she waited for the moment it'd burst until she saw those pictures plastered all over social media. Pictures of him with some model that isn't a shorty pants like her at all, totally how those ladies described his type to be and someone with whom he wouldn't be embarrassed to hang out with.

She's everything, Y/N's jealous of. Those sparkling blue eyes compared to her boring brown ones, handsome figure and the radiance of richness.

Then she got stuck into her life responsibilities and worried about other things such that; she wasn't able to pay any bills and her flat's rent despite doing two part time jobs along with doing her class-fellows assignments in return of money and still got kicked out of it. Her close friend offered her to live in her studio and she has made it her kitchen, study, sleeping room with her stuff and clothes scattered everywhere.

She lives on noodles and toasted breads sometimes treating herself with delights of kit-kat bars in the middle of nights.

Watches her friend do her work and leave when the night comes by —- she has never felt this lonely in her entire life.

"So, was it love at first sight?" Nora her friend asks, handing her cuppa tea and a scone. Y/N let a weak sad smile slip, shaking her head and reminiscing all those moments where she was falling in love with him without even realizing, "Falling in love slowly patiently is the most beautiful . . . at some time I used to loathe his existence but staying with him and after knowing him, it was like --— an escapeless tunnel. I didn't realize it, till one day I woke up and my heart saw him in a different light, where I wanted to give him all me lovin' but he wasn't ready for it." She shrugs sipping the hot beverage and doesn't flinch from the burn that tingles at the tip of her tongue.

When she put her cup aside Nora takes her hand assuring her sweetly, "You'll have that person soon -- he's just on his way, with a big bouquet of roses and a teddy bear to give you the lovin' you deserve." Y/N giggles at that waving her off and not showing how her person is still Harry. What does she do to forget him? To fool her in thinking he isn't her first love.

"Aish, Nora aren't you gettin' late? Gooo." She had some clients to meet before she stopped here at studio to grab some things but it turned into a girlie hangout, "Take care honey and don't forget to put a bucket there." She points to the corner where water's dripping from the rooftop and Y/N exhaled an exasperated sigh of breath when the door clicks leaving her alone yet again.

It was past twelve and when usually she pulls an all nighter to study -- today she decided to sleep early. Her bad habit of overthinking kicks in again, this time it's not over some silly thing but she ponders over where she went wrong? She should've kept her feelings to herself and atleast would have been sleeping in her bed cuddled with her chonky cat Zippy.

She misses Zippy badly.

A noise of door unlocking loudly drags her from her reverie and her heart pounds against her ribcage ready to break it. Who could be at this hour of night? It could be Nora since she's the only one who got keys to the place.

Sitting up quickly she squints against the blinding lights and watches someone's boot stepping over her blanket that flopped onto the floor from the sofa she's sleeping on.

"Kevin? What are you doing here?" He's Nora's boyfriend and her classfellow. He just shrugs tumbling his way towards the sofa and she tries to scoot back from him as much as possible, "I'm here to see you. . ." He slurs. It knocks her breath out, filling terror in her veins as the heels of her feet rub against the leather of the couch in her effort to be away from him.

"What? This's not appropriate I -- I . . suggest you to call Nora s –- so, what're you doin —-" She squeaks in fear sinking into the couch when he towers over her and traps her under him with his hands on either side of her body aggressively, "I like you. Why don't you get it!!" She flinches when he shouts angrily with bloodshot eyes and the smell of alcohol disgusts her springing tears in her eyes.

"Please, stop . . ." She whispers with silent tears running down her throat using all her strength to push at his shoulders but he grips her hips tightly and yanks at her sleeping shirt revealing the strap of her bralette. She couldn't even cry for help. It's useless so putting some belief in herself for the last time she uses all her power and kicks him in his crotch pushing him roughly on the floor.

His nails tear at her delicate skin but she doesn't care before running out of the studio ignoring the names he's calling her from behind.

She runs away, away and away. Not thinking twice where she's going before crossing the bridges and tunnels. It feels like her ears are bleeding with the echo of loud horns of traffic and the hopelessness of her life makes her fall on her knees. She cries all the tears she was bottling up for months feeling like she's running out of time and reaching dangerously near to her end.

She's been in the same neighbourhood she's been before many times. The chilly wind doesn't prick goosebumps over her skin, the night's darkness doesn't scare her and the stray dog that's barking somewhere in far doesn't affect her at all as she stares at the door from where she has stepped into her comfort space many times.

Harry's with Scottie. His childhood friend who's here in London for some shoot. They were lounged in the living room talking their hearts out and their cringey memories from when they were small when he halted mid-talk, jaw slacking when his eyes took the sight of someone standing at his main door from the multiple security screens appearing on the telly.

He doesn't believe at first. Thinking he's hallucinating and that maybe he just saw a flicker of a ghost but when she looks up revealing her sad face and those big brown eyes he rushes to open the door.

"Fuck." He breathes out working on the heavy cold locks of the oak door with shaky hands anxiously and she was about to walk away with her back turned to him when he spurts out her name in haste, "Y/N." She listens to him. Insides breaking with the nirvana and scent of him surrounding her.

His breath hitches in his throat when she spins to meet his apprehensive gaze and she doesn't give him a chance to have a proper look at her before falling in his arms, her head hitting his chest and body shaking vigorously as she sobs sadly.

"Darlin'?" He asks worriedly, slipping his arms around her shoulders to lull her in his embrace, "Are you oka?" He feels like his stomach ate his heart as he anticipates an explanation from her and she isn't doing anything but crying.

"You're scarin' me, pet. What happened honey?" He pulls away to cradle her face in his calloused palms. His chests pangs with hurt and remorse upon seeing her tear stained cheeks, wobbly blue lips, and disheveled state.

He steps inside with her still in his arms and rubs his hand down her spine to calm her down as little sad sniffles and hiccups keep slipping out of her mouth.

He sits her on the sofa squatting down infront of her and Scottie brings her water. When she refuses to drink it because Harry strokes his thumb against the apple of her cheek, "Shh, 's okay . . you're okay. You're with me now, sweet girl." It's like the world and anything else has blurred around him and his ever priority's focusing on her only. His observant gaze dawdles from her face to her bruised shoulder emitting an afflicted gasp of trepidity from between his lips and it deepens to a growl when it fell over her hip-bone where the fabric of her pyjama's spotted with blood.

He glances up at Scottie who gives him a knowing look of horror. He gets closer to her and she doesn't retract as his thumb streaks away the blood oozing from her shoulder gently, saying nothing as he examines it.

After a brief pause Y/N's heart skips a nervous beat when he tilts her chin to have a better look at her face, taking in the evidence of someone handling his petal so brutally it left scratches at her face.

Harry looks her dead in the eyes. His anger barely restrained tippling from the pot ready to leave burns, his voice is tense and quite, ears heating with wrath.

"Who did this to you?"

"Kevin." The tears are back at her waterline more concerned that he's panicking because of her and Scottie sits beside her massaging her shoulders.

"Kevin, who?" Harry's question is curt controlling himself from finding this mother fucker himself and beat the shit out of him, "H -- he's my friend's boyfriend, I though --– was sleeping in her studio 'n 'n --- when he . . . he —-- " She hides her face in her palms unable to speak but Harry quickly pulls her down in a comforting hug whispering sweet things to stop her crying.

She parts from him with puffy eyes and swollen lips shaking her head at her stupidity, "I … I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come here, 'm gonna leave — ' " She's a weeping blubbering mess trying to stand up on her jello legs with the help of the couch's armrest.

He catches her wrist crying out, "No! Don't! please, please stay . . . . fo' me?" Scottie has never seen him like this. Bended out of shape for a person, begging them on his knees to protect them as he rambles loudly.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden on you, I -- I'll go in the morning." Since she has nowhere to go it's better she sleeps here for a night instead of on the streets.

Harry finds it ironic. That once he didn't want her overnights now he wants her all days and weeks, perhaps till the end of his life.

He's gonna win her back.

He hands her his tattered comfy sleeping clothes and the spare toothbrush leaving her to it. When he comes back downstairs Scottie's waiting for him at the main door.

"You should report a file against that bastard the first thing in the morning." Scottie tells him seriously and he nods. His head snaps when she spoke softly, smiling at him, "You're in love."

"What?"

"I haven't seen you like that with anyone, Harry. Make it to her foolish boi -- tell her what you feel." She laughs, jolting him with his shoulders and he smiles timidly bidding her a good-bye.

The door to her room's ajar opened as he peeks inside to make sure she's okay and sighs deeply when finds her staring blankly at the ceiling. The floorboard creaks when he pads inside quietly and her stare diverts to him while he stands on the foot of bed, "I read somewhere that cuddlin' helps ye'sleep better, you w'na try?" She hums in return, fisting the duvet under her chin and slip shuts her eyes remaining stiff in her spot when he slides under the duvet closer to her.

She turns into a puddle when his long arms wrap around her tummy, "Is this okay?" His voice a mere whisper of care earning an honest nod from her -- his thigh strings over her legs to cocoon her in his warmth completely, ". . and this?" She again nod at him so,

He smushes his cheek into the crook of her neck and she could feel something moist on her skin while his lips puckered to speak, "Y/N?" He murmures broken and sad snuggling more into her.

"Hmm?" She hums, the exhaustion from walking and crying this much forcing her to sleep, "I've missed you, terribly." Her heart leaps and she wants to exchange the familiarity of emotions but her tongue remains heavy in her mouth.

Her toes curls and fingers clutches the wrinkly fabric of the pillow case she had her head rested on but now it's slipping down from over it due to her body shaking vigorously as she tries to escape those filthy, gruesome hands like a terrifying shadows of evil choking her throat and sucking the life out of her.

Harry's head snaps down to where she was snuggled to his side moments ago when she murmur-yells no,no,no,no'. He feels like someone placed a heavy brick over his chest at the sight of his lovie writhing like a leaf petrified of whatever she's dreaming of and his shoulders rolls back while he perches on his elbow to shake her gently out of it.

"Y/N . . ." He remains dulcet. Chewing onto his already swollen bottom lip since he didn't even close his eyes the entire night manipulating the plush flesh, he doesn't know what kept him awake —- but it sure was this sense of responsibility to make her feel protected under his wings. She smacks his arm away pushing at his chest with her all might to skid away to the edge of the bed in her sleepy state, so he quickly hunches on wobbly knees to catch her before she falls.

"It's just me, Angel, Harry –- wake up darlin'," His heart beating ominously frantic and head jumbling with horrible thoughts of what she's going through as her warmed up cheeks soak with tears, he has never seen her like this, he never wanted to see her for the first time after months like this --- shattered to pieces and drained of her energy.

He smooths his thumb to caress her cheek slightly and swipe those sad tears away. She wakes up with a gasp making him jerk his chin back, blinking rapidly to confirm her surroundings and her fearful vision zeros to his panicked features. She places her palms against his pectorals to make sure he's real and there and that ugly nightmare just ended, "Harry?" He gulps the thick web of tears down his throat and bobs his head.

"Yes, sweet girl, Harry . . ." The very streaks of golden rays sneak through the curtains and dances between their faces as she fists the hem of his shirt, "It was just a nightmare." He assures her running his hand up and down her arms to calm her down.

"Don't be afraid, dovie' won't let anybody hurt ya from now on, g'na protect you —--" It was the last straw for her before she flipped him over and climbed out of his bed to get out from his room.

"Shit." He drives into a state of frenzy following her down the stairs like a puppy almost missing a step or two as she wears the slippers she came in last night, "Where ye' goin'?" His muscles twitch in a hurry to make his next move and save whatever's between them that's keeping him sane, " Dunno, away from you." She shrugs, lost in her own fog and the sting in his heart's unbearable with the inflammation of hurt.

"Why?" He tumbles through the last step and infront of her, eyes bloodshot and heart how from the squeezing agony of loosing her for second time for the same cause.

"Because, I w'na forget about you!!" The scream she had in her lungs to convey her anger gets stuck in her throat. His shoulders slump from the burden of guilt and regret.

"Why?" He feels like throwing up with the unbearable anguish of him hurting to a point he wants to wash his memories out of her mind.

"Because you make me so confused, Harry…" Her face pinches into an exasperated expression of hopelessness while she nudges him aside to pass by him and to the main door but he catches her wrist before she could step outside and never come back to him, "I wouldn't confuse you from now on …. 've been better fo' you y/n, 'cos I want you to know that I'm yours." His confession springes her off guard by pure stupefaction and when she looks at him -- he's already gazing at her as if she's the moon surrounded by singing stars.

"Please, let me fight for you baby." Tears springs at his waterline ready to welcome a sob out of his lungs. Because he knows he'll be unable to live his life without her, his love will rot in the cage of his heart because he'd never be able to express it for anyone except her.

He continues not holding back anything from her instead unlocking another love language and that's being vulnerable and completely defenceless to her, "While being with you I still thought a part of me was in love with my ex and I didn't want ya to be me second priority, could neve', was so so wrong 'cos even though you're not my firsts you're gonna be my lasts. I'll make sure that you're." He gulps down the tears blocking his wind pipes and making it difficult to speak.

"I want you to give us another chance, to forgive me and give me a proper chance to love you 'cos that's what you deserve . .." The sincerity and genuineness in his stained smaragdine irises turns her pudgy in his hold, ". . . you deserve all the lovin' in this world, honey."

"Work for it then." She tells him and his pretty eyes widen adorably as of some golden fish, a vivacious smile adorns his features and he doesn't take a moment before swiping her off her feet and into his arms to hug her tightly.

His insides feels like nourishing after a time with contentment and satisfaction.

To have his loved one in his arms.

In his life.

"Thank you, Thank you, Thank youuu." He rambles into the crook of her neck, elated and joyful. Swaying their bodies together and making her smile softly after a prolonged time of suffering.

She'll heal.

He'll make sure to put ointment of affection and love on her wounds to help her heal, for herself but nobody else.

"You've got to be kidding me!" She mutters putting the alcohol swab on his torn bleeding knuckles and he squeaks locking his calf around her ankle, "Ouch! Ye' mad woman."

Harry and her went to file a report against Kevin, along with Nora who became her witness because she despises that disgusting of a man to be even around her and her studio let alone her boyfriend.

Harry was her biggest support through the whole process and dropped her off assuring her he'll pick all her stuff from Nora's place. There he was, Kevin. Stumbling at the footpath after Nora kicked him and his luggage out.

Harry's very patient and optimistic but not when his loved ones get hurt. He didn't know what was happening around him before he sprinted towards Kevin and punched him square in his face, breaking his nose and busting his own knuckles with a fierce shout of "y'son of a bastard!"

"If I ever . . . ever see ya near her, I promise that you wouldn't be able to see the living daylight." He grunted, resisting to hit him in the shin with his boots and walked past him to the studio to collect her stuff.

He was grief stricken seeing the way she had to live and not finding her pet cat anywhere. His heart could be heard cracking into tinytinytiny pieces when Nora told him that Y/N gave it to the vet since she was unable to afford it.

When she catches him staring up at her like a love-stricken puppy she huffs wrapping a band-aid around his knuckles, "'M mad at you." He seems unfazed making her gasp when brings her closer with his legs wrapped around her's, "Why . . . you're always mad at me." He whines jutting out his bottom lip and she shakes her head at his silly dotiness.

"You -– you can't go hurtin' yourself fo' me, H." She's very unaware, because certainly he'd do it as many times.

She narrows down her eyes to squint him in offense when he brushes her comment off with nonchalance and raises his bandaged wrist up to her face, "Will you kiss it better' fo' me, pet?" Her insides crumbles like dry rose petals falling from a beloved book of her favourite romances.

"Hmm?" He nudges it in a questioning suppressing a smirk. She wipes her clammy and antiseptic hands down her trousers not meeting his gaze while taking his hand awkwardly but delicately closer to where her soft mouth is located; she halts glowering at him, "Only if you ask nicely."

"That wasn't nice? Thought I was being a good boy there." He mumbles diligently pulling at the hem of her shirt and she bites down a smile, fingers still wrapped round his wrist.

"Pretty please…?" He wheezes his words out begging-ly -- upper lip curving, pupils dilating and she shrugs, "..if you insist so.." His grin was immaculate that of golden sun when she pressed her lips to his knuckles carefully giving it a gentle pat afterward.

"Not doing that again." She breathes out the air she was winding up inside her for so long. Spinning on her heels to turn her back towards him and put the first aid back under the sink, "We'll see 'bout that, let's do some grocery." He stands up patting his thighs loudly, "Wouldn't be surprised if we'll find bugs in me cabinet instead of goodies."

They've been roaming isles for an hour now and they always end up fighting who will push it. Harry doesn't let her because she keeps on filling it with instant noodles, chocolate bars and sakurai oreos.

"How about we try to live till our fifties wouldn't be that beautiful?" He follows behind her closely. His chest brushes against her shoulders everytime she makes a stop to cooes over some brightly coloured food and candies, "'M trying to make it till next year, dunno 'bout you." She mutters grumpy-ly tossing another packet of cherry lollipop inside the trolley.

He puts it back.

With a strict warning glare to her way.

"I want you to stay healthy." He says sternly glaring up at her from his ducked position. She tosses the lollipop back from the shelf, "'M paying for my things." She dismisses him off panning deadly.

"Fo' fucks sake, 's not 'bout money!" He grits annoyed at her stubbornness and she arches her brow leaning against the trolley, "Harry…'m not an actress or some high-paid model. Lemme enjoy real things, okay? Or just say you'd look too outta my league standing next to me." Her brows pints down into a frown and her shoulder slumps with her body further relaxing against the trolley.

She's up for a debate with him right in the middle of the junk food aisle if that's the case.

"See. That's why I don't want to be married!" A couple from far banters off in astonishment catching Y/N completely off guard.

"Uh-ah!" She yelps getting startled from the boom of interruption and a high-pitch squeaks leaves out of her petite lungs when the trolley rolls from under her perched elbow making her stumble for a nice trip but the bang never came as Harry coiled his arm around her waist to pull her on stable feet with a firm hand over her smallest of back.

His gentle pupils flicker between her frenzied one's, noses tickling and teasing each other with each spurt of breath that rushes out of her parted soft mouth and against his cheek.

"Maybe it's not that bad after all." The couple who were planning their future based on another couple, who's not even a couple yet but trying to work on it with their shared amount of affection; sighs in awement leaving Harry and Y/N in their own bubble.

He takes her by the elbow and helps her with his lips thinned, "Careful there." His mumble is deep and coherent husk.

She didn't whine about his green vegetables, boring low fat cheese and planned meals, celery or whatever that shit is, after that. Walking by his side like a kid who just got relief from his time out punishment.

While on the counter she asked him politely rather than biting his head of, "Lemme pay please. I'm already imposing on you by staying at your place." She knows that he wouldn't let her. Harry wants to take care of her -- in every way. He just hopes she warms up to him slowly that there will be a day she thinks of his home as hers too, oh how the table turns!

T'not make her think that his love for her is only restrictive to materialistic things he lets her pay --- but for half of it.

"D'ya got a change, miss?" The cashier asks her and she cranes her neck up to him. He denies waving his credit card with a disappointed expression so she quickly takes a chewing gum from the racks beside in return for the change.

He stops in his tracks. Watching her with glinting eyes more like fawning at her when she sways on her feet happily swinging the bag in her hold side by side.

"C'mon Harry!" She grins twiddling her fingers in a gesture to usher him where she's standing beside his car, "Yup. On your command, darlin'." He shakes his head. To fetch himself from the fond-land he always enters with anything she does.

There's a low hum of telly buzzing in the room as they sit crossed legs on the coffee rug with their knees brushing if any of them moves their bum a tad, while they slurp onto the remaining soup in the noodles cup.

This whole time he wanted to say something, to talk to her, his heart out and make it a domestic routine of sharing stuff while they eat comfy in eachother's presence but seems like his tongue betrays him everytime and his needy eyes always want to admire her and the little things she does.

He licks his lips, nodding profusely when she asks for his cup and chopsticks to take to the kitchen. A huge sigh of relief vanishes out from his chest when she disappears inside giving him time to re-collect himself, he rummages through the bag to take out the chewing gum they bought at the last moment.

He rips the packet with his teeth but it remains pressed there between his morals when he senses the familiarity of the foil --- she bought a fucking condom out of accident!

At the same moment she pads outside halting in her tracks infront of him with a horrendous expression as her peepers wouldn't stop blinking. He doesn't not know what got into him but he throws it her way as if he's utterly disgusted by it.

Sinks into the couch and refuses to meet her gaze. She throws it back at him, "I don't want it, keep it you might need it." There he goes. The smugness fuels back as he outstretches his arm over the back of the couch and man-spreads scrutinizing the way her eyes linger at his meaty thighs before flicking them away with a nervous gulp.

"You've already planned it all out, hun?" He smirks rubbing the belly of his nose with his pinky's knuckle and she folds her elbows under her breasts shaking her head at his teasing, "Yeah planning to . . . murder you t'night." She laughs out evilly when his eyes widen comically.

"Hmm. I see. Didn't know ye' were this kinky 'n naughty." She rolls her eyes at his edgy nip. She wouldn't admit it but him testing her patience turns her hot and flustered.

"Night, H." She yawns and his heart grows ten times bigger at the softness of her appearance. She cranes her head against her shoulder to look at him from the spot she's standing at when his voice calls for her, "Y/N!? Ye'really into knives? In the bed I mean." His grin mischievous knowing fully well what he's doing to her as he waits for her answer propped on his knees.

She slams the door at his face and he plops back into the sofa with a pouty victorious smile.

Harry didn't realise that in the middle of watching Gilmore Girls on the telly he fell asleep straining his neck from keeping it in a weird angle, his arms hugging the pillow and feet dangling adorably nowhere. He groans knuckling away the sleep and tries to wake up when he heard a feeble noise of someone taking his name until he looks up and finds Y/N towering him with her fluffy cream blanket pinched around her head darlingly.

"What happened, pet? Y'okay!?" He gasps trying to sit up and take her precious face to inspect her properly but she shakes her head and lays him back gently.

Her nose runny and cheeks rosied as she asks for a favour from him, "Can I -- um," She wipes her nose with the sleeve of her sweater paw. He doesn't question her further and opens his long arms to welcome her for a warm embrace.

"C'mere, pet." His whisper delicate to her.

She lies down pressed to his front resting her head on his sprawled arm and scooches herself closer to him smiling shyly against his hoodie where a Harry is embroidered in pink thread. It's like a gust of fresh spring and dew of nighty mountains as Harry takes a relaxing breather snuggling her impossibly affectionately close to himself, petting down her sweet smelling hair.

"Y'can talk to me 'bout anythin'." Their heart-beats in sync as he keeps his palm spread at her back to protect her from falling, "Ye' know that right?" He pulls back to cradle her chin between his fingers and look her in eyes sincerely.

"I know that button. Sleep for now, hmm?" He smiles softly, shutting his eyes from giving out how much a mere love name's enough to fuse him into a cloud of giddiness.

In the morning though, Harry's a small spoon and Y/N a big one. Her limbs trying to latch to his body in every way possible with her cheek smashed against his shoulder blade.

His lips quirks up into a lazy loopy smile full of contentment and peacefulness as he weaves his each finger into her's to bring her knuckles to his mouth and smother it in kisses, "Rise n' shine you furball." He rasps. chin doubling adorably as he tries to look at his squirmy girl.

He turns to face her side, temples touching and lips hovering over eachother's skin. He feels her smiling against his chin as she cuddles up into him, "I'd like to make you a brekkie…." She murmurs playing with baby curls on the nape of his neck.

"Dunno 'bout that. What if you poison me, t'death?" He giggles and she smacks his belly pouting grumpy-ly.

"Offer, expired. no more brekkie for you." She tells him wiggling out of his grip and walks towards kitchen but burst into gleeful laugh when he wraps around her calves like a koala bear, "Was jokinnnn', babe." He emphasizes his words with a twinge of whine and she meanders her hand in his ruffled curls.

"Kay! Kay! But, I could only make you omelette and sour bread." He jumps back on his feet enthusiastically looping his arm around her clavicles, "No problem. Glad t'eat anythin' made from your lovely hands."

She made him brekkie and he made fabulous peach tea for them. She blabbered off and he listened with careful ears. He praised her with glinting proud eyes and she treasured these praises in her heart.

While she chewed slowly he messaged his manager that he couldn't come to any working place for a week or so. He wants to make it special and memorable for them, their honeymoon phase.

"D'ya have any class today?" He asks her leaning towards her atop the counter, "Nope 's Saturday dummy." She chuckles flicking her thumb against his forehead and he gives a dimpled grin with bolted shut eyes.

"Yeah … silly me."

"Why?"

"So that I could take ye' ona date." His inners bouncing desperate to know her answer, "Me?" She points at herself surprised with parted lips.

"Yes you, is there somebody else sitting with us? Hello?" He calls for that non-existent person and she suckles her bottom lip to subside her squeals down. She breathes out, "Some ghostie? Evil spirit? Jesus himself —-" She cuts his banter of. With a light slap to the back of his hand.

"Okay." She says with an excited shake of head happiness bare in her words and Harry literally slips from his seat padding towards her in haste, "I'd love to." She confirms with a sweet smile and he hooks his nimble finger around her jeans loop to pull her closer to him for a fervid emotional hug.

She was a frolic mess in her room trying out her outfits and fitting into her skirts, trousers anything that could match perfectly. Deciding to terminate any ideas to wear cotton floral sun-dresses instead ends up tucking a baby pink sweater into her chequered white and black plaid trouser along with a pair of Mary Janes booties.

She took huge puffs of breath to calm her wild heart down when the knock on her door appeared. He decided to be a full on romantic today doing all the date rituals without any shame dressing up in a silk shirt three shades lighter than her's, with a pussy bow around his neck and she thinks she couldn't be more in love with him as he has a bunch of sunflowers and jasmines in the cracks of his jewels adorned fingers.

"Well, well, well, Look who came to their enemy's door holding presents." She smirks and he scowls, "Oh cut it. 'M here to pick y'up fo' our date."

What makes her lose her mind's Zippy on his shoulder.

"Oh my goodness! Harry!" She leaps towards him and takes her fluffy beast in her arms and showers Zippy's crown with many many kisses, "Thank you!" She cries out joyfully wrapping her free arm around his waist and cuddles him for dear life.

"I lo —-- " She thinks it'd be embarrassing to say it on the first date and Harry almost had a mini heart-attack but she changed her words, "I can't be more grateful to you, thank you so much."

"Now, stop thankin' me hunny." He gives her the flowers he plucked himself from his backyard and kisses the apple of her cheek turning her into a gooey mesh.

"Where is it?" She avoids checking him out.

"Why should I tell ya?" He nudges her to lock her elbow around his and she gazes up at him with loving eyes, "'cos 'm your date that's why."

"Bribe me then." He grins bashfully.

"Harry!!" She gasps and huffs tipy-toeing timidly to plant a soft kiss to his chin but it lands against his throat making him thin his lips to give out a noise that could embarrass both of them.

"Not telling you." He squeaks dragging her outside into the porch and she whines, "You leech!"

"You did not!" She snaps her neck in utter exhilaration from the view in front of her and towards Harry who's watching her with puffed cheeks to not to give out his bunny smile as her face turns guppy. The sunshine dawdles around them and she pulls him down to her level with the tug of their intertwined hands, "You're somethin' else, Styles." It warms his blood. Bursting sentiments of pure love and amiability through each orifice that leads to his heart.

"Only fo' you." He whispers stroking the plush of her cheek -- restraining to place his needy lips on her alluring pillow one's inviting him to have a good taste of their sweetness before they could taste the ripeness of strawberries growing at the farm he just took her.

"Uhm. Let's see who could collect more!" She grins pushing herself three steps away from him with support of his pecs, "What's the prize?" He asks pawing at her hips to keep her in intimate distance and she giggles tapping his chin.

"A feeling of saccharine-ss and sweetness when we'll eat those strawberries out." She tries not to step on heavy branches that are still growing and makes her way to the fresh patch, "Perhaps, that could be acquired from eatin' somethin' else out too." His wet lips brushes against her earlobe as he speaks, sending a shiver down her spine.

"You're being very loud and lewd." She pokes him in ribs. Squatting down to pluck a juicy perfectly sized strawberry and hovering it against his mouth to give him a taste, "Hmm what could I say 'm a man of dirty words." His eyes darken to an intoxicating shade of emerald as his heart-shaped magenta lips wrap around the strawberry to split it in two with his teeth.

He still remembers. How her mouth tasted that night, how her lips came molding around his's like a stamp of a lover's letter and her body fitted against his's like a lost piece of puzzle.

Just made for him.

"Harry …" She's out of words. Maybe, breath.

"Yes dovie?" He hooks his finger into her belt's loop to saturate the thread like distance between them and makes tight hold at the nape of her neck to crane her head up to meet his honey eyed gaze, "D'ya know how to make strawberry mochi?" His shoulder slumps at her question and he rests his cheek atop her temple cutely.

"Noo." His voice sort of whine-y.

"No, problem. We'll make it together." She chuckles turning back to collect the strawberries into her basket.

She never had this fun. Messing around with him. Feeding eachother the sweet fruit. Him scaring her that some rat sprinted by her feet and enjoying the way she jumps at him, only wheezing comically when she throws a blow at him.

Her giggles bounces off each and every ivory flower and leafy plant as he pins her to the viridescent grass, with his thighs and tickles her non-stop. What started as raspberries turns into sloppy smothers of kisses all over her face.

"Harry!!" She bursts into another fit of laughter, "Stop." She warns him squeezing her thighs around his waist and he giggles challenging her.

"O'what? Huhh?" She closes her eyes nuzzling into his arm that's trapping her down, "Or I'll kiss you…" Her voice gentle and dulcet making his grip loosen and heartbeat fastens like a thunderbolt.

"'M not afraid of that." He gives a toothy grin sneaking a glance at her hand which's gliding up his throat to cup his cheek, eyelids fluttering like petals from breeze as she smudges her sweet mesh coated lips against his's in a tenderly ardent, and yearningly amiable kiss feeling her pulse ring in her ears with so much force.

His fingers make their home down her smooth hair to cup the nape of her neck, elbows digging into mud when he lifts her up to deepen the kiss sloppily. Just her. Only her. Swirling inside of him as his very thought.

Their noses crooking perfectly, skins kissing and bodies hitched to eachother with the knot of souls.

She whimpers into his mouth squishing the poor strawberry she was holding in her free hand from the intensity of fierce sentiments she's spiraling in; to have him all and swallow him all because he's that damn gorgeous. His tongue pokes and tickles the plush insides of her small mouth tasting the strawberry straight from where he loves the most. His belly burning with the fire of desire feeling the way her body's reacting with puriency to his subtle touches of affection.

He was dying to have a kiss from her the day she gave him her lips that night and he couldn't resist but to think about it regularly.

A wet filthy sound bubbles around them when they part away with the remnants of spit in the form of intricate strings connecting them; that breaks when he relaxes his forehead against her's taking a good breather of mossy air.

"S' messy." He tuts when his eyes fall at her palm covered in strawberry pulp.

She gasps giddy-ly when he pokes his pink tongue out and takes a huge swipe up her palm with an erotic hum that rattled her insides.

"H -- arry." She nibbles at her bottom lip to filter noises she's unable to hold meanwhile he sucks her fingers one by one to clean them, her panties twisting with an ache of want.

"Hmm. All nice 'n clean, now we should go." He says flipping her wrist to act as if he's inspecting it. Brushes the dirt of his trousers leaving her baffled and grumpy. When she doesn't stand up he squats down at her level arching a brow at her and before she could know what's happening she's thrown over his broad shoulder like a rag doll.

Her squeals hearty and giggly as she tries to punch his back but her breath gets caught in her throat when his large hand comes spanking her butt-cheek. He waits for her reaction —- grinning cheekily when she sucks in her weak mewls and grabs the back of his neck blabbering his name off.

He puts her back on the ground once out on the gravel path and hands her the basket piled with strawberries. Ducks down to sponge a kiss to her cheek telling her to stay glued to her spot as he leaves to pay.

She smiles down at her feet then at the sky revinding all the moments and their lovely kiss that makes her feel all warm and stupidly gooey.

While boarding the train he wiggles his finger behind himself to get a hold on her and keep her close to him, craning his neck with a lopsided sly smile, "Hold me hand."

"If you insist." She nods with a grin slipping her fingers over his palm and he wovens them with his own with a firm grip stepping inside the train and helps her to do so with his free hand behind her head.

She sighs. Sitting with her back pressed against the window of the train. One leg folded and other dangling from the seat as she stares at Harry with a pouty smile.

"Don't ya think you're sittin' too far away from me?" He says, grabbing her knee, "Come here." And slides her towards himself now their thighs overlapping. He doesn't like even the mere distance between them —-- might sound sappy but he wants to be like her scent.

"Happy?" She pinches his cheek and he winces dramatically ruffling her already loose tresses of hair making her look as if she was on a roller coaster minutes ago, "aren't you a one clingy bunny!" She huffs trying to blow away the hair falling in her eyes. He bobs his head in agreement and slings his elbow around her shoulders to tuck her under his chin protectively.

"Okie, now add some sugar in it —- aish slow down …" She coughs waving away the sugar dust tickling her nostrils as Harry poured so much sugar all at once. He has his chin rested on her head and her hips crooned against his thighs as they make the strawberry and vanilla mochi together.

His puffer jacket on her shoulders (To the time they went to buy grocery stuff it started being cold and Harry being a mommy he took out his jacket and bundled her up in it) —- She sneezes and he quips pecking her hair, "Bless your heart." Fetches her a tissue too.

"Thank you, bubs." She giggles grabbing his jaw bringing him down to smooch a kiss to his lips. She pulls back but he persists snaking his palm around the nape of her neck to keep her put —- she gives in with her heart fluttering like candle flame in a destructive storm.

Turns in his embrace and hooks her elbows behind his head patching tiny, tiny, tiny pecks on his pillowy lips until he gets desperate to kiss her mouth and tongue pushing her to his front by gliding his hand into the back-pocket of her jeans.

Her head lulls. Feeling as if the kitchen got filled with candy clouds floating around her when he cradles her cheeks in his both palms lapping at her bottom lip and nips at it with every whimper of desire that falls, "Mine." He breathes out rubbing the bridge of his nose up and down her cheek like a puppy nuzzling into his favourite plushie.

"Yours." She says without any hesitation.

He smashes his wet lips back on hers. Swirls of gleeful colours surrounding them as he feels like he could kiss her forever.

She gasps gazing down lustfully at his wine cherried lips when he holds her from waist and sits her on the wooden counter, "I want you to take me." She murmurs nailing at the silk of his top and he paws at her hip-bones cravingly, it makes her feel like one the most desired women alive.

"I'm all yours to pleasure you lovie'," He looks her in the eyes with so much love and affection it melts her whole, "Just ask me and I'll give me girl what she wants …. " He says trailing sloppy kisses down her throat. Her head falls against the tiled wall giving him more access to her skin --- so he could mark her as he wishes.

The heat from his mouth to her bare skin arouses her to an extent she feels wetness sticking to the insides of her thighs with each grind of his crotch against her's.

She tugs at the roots of his curls, mouth parted around a moan when he grazes his touch over her plump breasts, "Is this okay?" He asks breathlessly and she bobs her head vigorously latching onto him.

"Yes, please, more … " He blinks to let reality sink in when she raises her arms in the air for him to get rid of her clothes.

He smiles. Hard. Crinkles forming by his eyes and cheery lines around his mouth as she looks up at him with those doe eyes glinting with his own reflection.

She squirms grumpily and he cackles loudly when she hooks his fingers into the hem of her jeans as a sign that "just undress me right now and fuck me hard over this counter." But, the romantic sap he's just keeps on being a tease.

"Fuck me already." She huffs locking her ankles behind his back.

"Trust me, I want it as bad as y'do but are you sure —-- "

"I'm --- just fuck …. " She cuts him off, cupping his cheeks and kisses his mouth. He groans when she sucks his swollen lip in between his teeth and lifts her pelvis grinned against his swell lining in his trouser to elaborate her neediness through actions,

He undresses her finally folding them and putting them away nicely while she stays a breathless mess just in her undies, her sheer panties soaked in her juices and profanities of moans fuses into air from both of them as Harry places his hands on her knees. Irises darkening with lust when he looks at the delicate lines of her drippy pussy lips forming from underneath the material.

"Spread your legs, I want to feel how turned on I made you feel." His voice an obscene grunt and it tingles her core making her feel she should obey him, "Fuckin' hell." His moan is dirty as he rubs the pad of his long digits against her soaked centre. His piercing gaze flitting between her thighs crumbled her in the best way possible.

She fists the hem of his top, tugging at it with the blabbering of his name.

A series of pornographic whines leaves her through her nose when he demands her to raise her bum so he could get rid of the last thing being a bother to them.

"Oh my — " She arches her spine when his fingers withered in her stickiness, between her glistening pussy lips to her mound pinching her clitoris in the way and listens to the soapy noises he's creating while lathering his hand with her juices he'd love more to coat his tongue with.

"This is what you want, hmm? For me to bend you over this counter right fucking now and pump me thick cock inside your sweet cunt from behind till you're screaming for me to ram harder inside you, so deep that you feel me in your little tummy and I keep it there for hours making you cum on it again and again — many time that you're milky and cramped around my prick like a filthy girl you're." He dips his impossibly sweet pink tongue inside her mouth and makes her sip down his dirty words through her throat not letting her mewls slip out as his lengthy finger slicks inside her causing her melt against his chest with a turmoil of emotions and heat she never felt before.

Her brain whirles with the mantra of fuckfuckfuck but her guppy lips says otherwise, she coils her arms around his shoulders scratching her nails down his neck — eyes rolling back as she shakes with the build of ecstasy.

"You're so snug and warm, sweets. Can't wait to be inside you." He husks curling his digit to give her upper wall a good rub, "Harry!" Her scream comes out gruff vibrating with a sexy octave.

"Yes, baby." He pinches her chin between his thumb and forefinger staining soft wet kisses from the corner of her lips, to her rosy cheeks and down her throat sewing love bites along her veins.

"Does it feel good, hmm? 'M g'na stuff you full of my prick bet it'll make you feel like heavens --" Her brows tenses up as he forces her to keep her eyes locked with his's and groans with the throb in his cock bound to implode with each whimper of his name she lets out hiking up her knees on the counter — the heels of her feet sticking firmly against the edge of the counter giving a carnally pleasing view for him to enjoy and ooze with sticky precum.

He huffs out breathily, fingers sliding in and out at a fast pace while he moves down to take her perky nipple between his teeth teasing it with nip of his tongue, "Fuck. Mhmm baby I've so many dirty things to d'to you, would you be an atta girl and be naughty with me?" He nuzzles his curls against her skin grinding his knuckles up and down against her swollen clit.

"Yes, yes, yes." She moans trying to sink impossibly deep on his fingers. He admires her in amusement as her belly twists into ripples and she thrashes in his tight hold —- broken into pieces of vulnerability foxily.

He withers his gaze to where he's driving his fingers roughly inside her and a cold shiver runs down his spine, eyelashes fluttering and he sucks his bottom lip brutally praising her softly, "yes just like that darling taking my fingers so good —- they'll look pretty down your throat too while I'll fill your other holes with me, all me." He wraps a hand around her throat giving it a light squeeze and it was enough to spread warmth and the saccharine feeling of fullness in her every tissue gushing over his fingers.

"You're mine." He growls nipping at her sweet spot –-- wearing her out with his continuous different motions inside her. His wrist glistening with her come and her head lulls on his tanned shoulder, eyes slip shut, chest levitating with shallow breaths.

She cups his cheeks wrapping her trembling legs around his waist and kisses his smile, it's sloppy and barely a kiss with their lazy effort to keep their mouths on each other to soak into intimacy.

Next they're a moaning and crying mess on the kitchen floor with her knee hooked around his hip to keep him close as he stretches her out leaving a pleasurable burn against her squishy inviting walls.

His cock sits warm inside her pussy and his balls snug against her bum. It's torturous waiting for her to give a signal that he might move because he couldn't resist but to be rock hard inside her and fuck her for hours but his knees are laughing at him for being unable to bear the sting of cold tiles.

"You can move, 'm okay." She whispers hugging him for dear life and he nods grinding his hips slowly, the bulbous head of his dick hitting all the right spots —- he's so good at fucking.

He takes her fleshy tits in his palms caressing them with each lewd stroke of his cock inside her and treats her glistening lips from his spit back to his mouth, pecking it generously.

"Pull me hair." He groans pushing hard and guides her hand into his swirl of sweaty curls — hips stuttering, eyes rolling back into his skull erotically when she does so peppering loving kisses under his earlobe, "You're g'na ruin me lovie … fuck me please." He whines grabbing her ass and lifts her pelvis to slide inside her dripping pussy with much more roughness.

She has never seen him like this. Shredded to seams for her, sweat beading down his gorgeous face like glimmer of pearls and eyes mossed with so much lust and desperation it knocks air out of her lungs.

He rolls them over gently and her squeal turns into a shameless yawp when he feels much more bigger than before inside her with her being on top of him —- he was right she could feel him in her tummy.

She's clueless what to do. Not that she's gonna show it –- she doesn't want to give him an impression that she knows barely anything about riding but the way she begins with zealous back and forth movement digging the heels of her palms against his pecks wrecks him havoc.

"You're doin' so good pet, yes, yes, yes. Use me baby. Use me like your little fuck toy 'm c'mon." He grabs the nape of her neck and brings her down to skim his tongue over her lips, manipulating the plushiness of them with his teeth. His balls slapping against her skin as she bounces on his cock diligently and he fists the soft flesh of her bum with both of his hands to help her ride him knows she's labouring herself out, "I'm all yours." He says caressing her sides to make sure she's okay and brushes the wisp of sticky hair behind her ear.

"You're looking so sexy sitting on my dick like that -- how about I don't allow you to cum so you could keep me warm with your pussy like that fo' hours?" His pants out gripping at her thighs as his prick spills with wetness inside her and she cries out shaking, "No!" He smirks crinkled forming by his eyes and takes this chance to drive hard up inside her making her flop onto his chest.

She gasps moistly, pulsating around him feeling every ridge and vein of his cock stroking against her walls creating obscene noises of skin meeting skin and their moistures mixing soapily like gooe.

"Cum fo' me baby -- squeezing me s' tight. I know you're there." His pants laboured and heavy as he sucks his own digits coating them with his spit nicely and glides them down pressing them to her weeping bud, then flickers it in prolong circles. Toes curling. His thrusts consistent and fast. She crooks her nose against his's murmuring to him with a wavering voice.

"I'm gonna cum, fuck."

"You're gonna make me come."

Her eyes widen in surprise but her body reacts otherwise albeit she has never experienced it —- but her moans were uncontrollable when he spanked her butt cheek and she crampied down at him jolting tremendously with the wave of insanity spreading to her bones.

"I'm a naughty boy, give it to me." He kisses his teeth together man spreading and throwing his knees up to ram up inside her perfectly.

His eyes shuts till he could see white spotting behind them -- he spills inside her in form of thick ribbons and milks her cunt with it riding her out of her high. She clings to his body and snuggles into him to tone down the shivers running down her spine with each tiny orgasm she feels rushing out with his lazy thrusts.

"I'm jello." She tells him and he looks down at her with a mishevious grin, "Does that give me a reason to eat you whole?" She rolls her eyes poking at his cheek with a grossed out expression.

"I'm still inside ye', remember?" He stirs his hips to make her realise and she yelps not know if it's making her feel hot or utterly sensitive, "You're insatiable." She mumbles pouting her lips to indicate him she's dying for his lips to smooch kisses to her.

"No kidding I love the noises you make when you come undone." She confesses timidly drawing stars at his chest and he giggles kissing her temple gently, "Stop before you wake me buddy up again –- he quite fond of you." He blushes hiding his face into the crook of her neck with tiny voice.

They're canoodling under the fluffy blanket on the sofa watching telly after they just took a bath together, shampooing eachother with peach scents and drying eachother off with warm towels. She's nuzzled into his side wearing one of his baby yellow robes, his arm stays around her shoulder thumb addicted to caressing her silky cheek, sometimes spreading his fingers down her throat to tip her chin up to smooch sweet kisses on her lips.

"You're cute when you're not a pest." She giggles and he frowns comically pretending to munch her alive, "That's very rude -- you should be thankful that I lov — " Her heart almost stops functioning.

They were sipping onto their green teas and nibbling onto the strawberry mochi they made and refrigerated before when the doorbell rang making them groan in laziness.

She stood up going to see what took Harry so long on the door and got revealed to him talking instinctively to whoever rang the bell.

"Hi, Y/N." Scottie smiles at him. Carrying her luggage and Y/N looks down at her attire for a second then forwards her hand shyly. She was so scared that day –- it's a blur to her but now she watches Scottie properly she realizes …. She's the same girl from all the paparazzi photos.

Something switches off inside her. The rainbows and confettis, the moonlight and stars and the nebula of the whole galaxy she had consumed in her little body from making love to Harry just shuts down into a white noise.

Her bottom lip plumps into a pout. Eyebrows trembling from this confused feeling of some invisible thing squeezing the life out of her.

She's jealous.

"I just came here to say bye." Scottie's voice makes her focus back into reality.

"Oh…" She just nods. She doesn't return the hug even though her brain guilt trips her for that and when Scottie leaves with the air thick and tense, Harry corners her in between a wall and piece of furniture cradling her grumpy face in his careful palms speaking gently to her.

"You don't 'ave to worry 'bout her, she's just a friend …. Infact you don't have to worry 'bout anyone because I love you so so much baby that I don't see myself spending me life with anyone else." She glances up at him twice, jaw falling slack from shock and he chuckles smothering her in kind-hearted kisses when she stares at him like a hawk.

"You what!?"

"I love you, Y/N." Her eyes closing like a moth flapping nearer to fire and finding peace in burning inside it.

"I love you too so much." She whispers and welcomes his lips melting against her ardently. With the passion only lovers hold. Amiability she couldn't find anyone else but in his embrace, in his kisses and his lovemaking.

"Can we go back to cuddlin'? Me feet gettin' cold baby." He whines treading fastly into the living room while carrying her like a kitten from behind and makes squeaky noises once snoozed under the warmth of the blanket.

He touches their foreheads. Kissing the tip of her nose adorably.

"I love you." Then burst into giggles. When she returns the passion coyly.

"I love you too."

#Harry Styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles one shots #harry styles fanfic #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #Harry Styles fluffy duffy

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keeper0fthestars · 4 years ago

Text

recrudescent (i’m right here)

Din Djarin / gn!reader

1.6k words

warnings: angst / comfort, repressed memories, heartache, nightmares (and the panic that follows), mentions of death / violence

summary: ‘the past beats inside me like a heartbeat’ - John Banville

a/n: please heed the warnings and do not read if you are affected by things like this.

the prompt for this came from this post

The explosion knocks you back into the dirt. Smoke and ash fills your mouth. Sticks to the back of your throat, stings your eyes. You will yourself to sit up because this time, you tell yourself, it will be different. The ringing in your ears makes you lightheaded, the heat of the billowing smoke gets in the way, but you don’t need to see, you know these winding streets in the dead of night.

You run.

You don’t have to tell your feet which way to go; you know all the shortcuts, avoiding the white helmets with their flamethrowers. You’ll beat them this time. Your heart pounds twice for every stride you take in the packed dirt, the smoke gradually thins the farther away you get, and they don’t even see when you dart across the main path. Climbing the wall, the familiar chase stars and you’re ready for it. Narrowly missing the jump over the ledge, climbing up to the next roof, higher and higher, until your boot catches on a loose edge. You hear rubble fall, knocking the helmet down with a grunt but you can’t look back, there is nothing there for you anymore. There will be nothing ahead of you either if you don’t get there soon. And warn them.

The burn in your muscles doesn’t come as soon as it did before, but you’re older now, stronger. You’re through the trees by the time it hits and like last time, you push even harder. They’ll still be there. They have to be. You will get there in time. You’re older now, faster. You’re getting close, the taste of hot coals once again thick in your mouth and you try to call their names, to warn them, but your voice doesn’t carry. It’s dry as parchment, singed and black.

The house glows orange from inside and no one is here. No no no. Not again. Where are they? There is nothing left of your mother’s curtains in the summer kitchen. The blue enamel flowers on her pottery blister in the heat and no longer match the embroidery on her linens. You smell the scorch of thornwood as the flames lick along the beds and doorframes.

Eyes burning with smoke, the rubble bites into your knees. They’re gone. Everything is gone. Where are they. Clawing at the gravel, every breath scorches against a raw throat, you wish the flames would swallow you too. The grief that comes is like an old friend.

From some hazy distant place, you hear your name; a gloved hand touches your knee.

In a rush of fear, you don’t look to see who it is, your instinct is to kick it away but your feet feel like they’re stuck in mud and it takes an enormous effort to get away from the looming figure beside you. Wiping the sweat and soot from your eyes, you try to focus on the reflective round head beside you. He’s speaking but you can’t understand the words. Something familiar tugs at your memory but you don’t trust your memory because familiar means grief and heartache and misery. And familiar doesn’t matter anymore because you couldn’t save them.

You never will.

The hand won’t let go; no matter how hard you push on it. Please. Where are they?

In your desperation, your foot finally connects with a plank of metal so hard you cry out, sitting up, scrambling away.

“You’re okay,” he says again, his hand still on your knee, “it’s just a dream.”

He’d been startled out of a light sleep; the sound of choked sobs echoed from the other side of the hull, filled his stomach with panic. Detecting your frantic pulse and he’d scrambled over to you. A broken name falls from your mouth, a name he doesn’t recognize, sounding slurred like you were underwater. Under the soft light from the panel over your head, sweat and terror shine on your forehead.

“Hey,” his soft voice blankets your senses with calm. “It’s me. You’re okay… you’re okay.”

The voice tugs at your brain again, the blurry figure is still here and your body reacts to his soothing words. You stop struggling and sit up against the wall, hugging your knees to your chest.

The sharp pierce of your own fingernails digging into your palms brings you back to the Crest.

Just a dream.

Face wet, your lungs are no longer burning from ash and dust, they burn from exertion. In your exhaustion, you make out the beskar helmet through wet eyelashes. It was just like all the other ones. The same explosion, the same suffocating panic, the same fire.

Cool air fills your head as you struggle to catch your breath but your muscles droop like lead, you start shaking.

But that’s ok because he’s holding you up.

With his broad chest and solid arms. You weren’t alone.

No matter how many times you relive it, you would never get home before they were taken away. You’d never get a chance to say goodbye. You turn your face against the fabric of his worn shirt to quell the hurt in your chest but the piercing shock of fresh grief claws at your throat, your mouth starts trembling unable to stop.

“I tried but I couldn’t get there.” They were innocent. “Why couldn’t they take me instead.”

Stomach heaving, the agony of memories spills down your cheeks. It’s the kind of sobbing that leaves your heart ragged and hollow, as if you were a child, bawling on your knees. You cried for all the things you’d never get to tell them, you cried for the years you didn’t dare let yourself grieve, for the years you’d spent fending for yourself.

There are no words in Basic that comfort demons like this. His other language snags inside his mouth and he almost whispers the mantra he knows for protection. Does it still count if he didn’t say it aloud?

Taking your trembling hand, he places it flat on his chest, holds it there. He feels your fingers curl into his shirt over his heart, clinging to the fabric. Your head sags against his shoulder.

“Hear my heartbeat?” the gentle vibration of his voice curls in your chest. “Just… focus on that.”

He knows dreams like this. He wonders what else you’ve kept hidden for so long. You’d not had a nightmare like this the whole time you’d been flying with him, he would have known if you did. Vicious memories can resurface without warning, but he still finds himself wondering what brought this on.

Your day together had been uneventful, nothing out of the ordinary: a stop for supplies and fuel, a quiet couple of hours at one of the markets. The only uncharacteristic thing that stood out in his memory was when something had caught your attention that afternoon and you’d backtracked down the alley, your eyes on one vendor in particular. Like a pinhole, his memory zeroed in on that little cart where it stood behind everyone else on the corner. Two young girls were selling soft-crusted loaves and baked sweets and you’d dropped enough credits on their table to pay a small army. He’d noticed the looks of awe on their dirty faces when they saw the pile of credits, way more than what the Quinn cakes and spiced rolls were worth. He didn’t understand why you’d decided to purchase the contents of the entire cart, but he’d noticed the tender longing beneath your smile when you crouched down and spoke to the smallest one, pulling wrapped candies out of your bag and giving them to her.

When you’d rejoined him, arms full on the way back to the crest, you spoke before he could frame a question. There’s a children’s shelter on the other side of town, and I’m going to bring it all there tomorrow before we leave

Something bites painfully into his heart, swallows his stomach whole. His shirt is tear-stained and soaked and your breathing has evened out but he has no intention of letting go of you anytime soon.

He wonders if you were that young. When you got left behind. He wonders if you were as young as he was, by the time everyone you’d loved was dead and gone.

He pulls you closer to his chest, carefully tucks your forehead against the soft fabric of his cowl under the edge of his helmet. You don’t object to the closeness, exhaustion quickly takes over and you curl yourself into him.

“I’m sorry,” your voice scratches, a lonely sob still hitching in your throat, “didn’t mean to wake you-.”

His chest expands under your head; a deep breath crackles through his helmet. The soft brush of his palm on the back of your head, he murmurs. “Don’t be sorry.”

Maybe you won’t remember this in the morning, he thinks, as he reaches over your head and taps off the light panel. His visor adjusts to the blanket of darkness and the faint glow of emergency lights. Eventually, he breathes a sigh of relief when his newly emitted readings finally tell him you’re in a deep sleep.

You’re oblivious to how he carefully shifts himself and lifts your knees, bringing your limp body down on the cot with him, giving you a soft place to sleep, cocooned inside his arms.

In your sleep, you’re unaware of how you turn towards his touch when the backs of his fingers trace feather-light along your cheekbone. You don’t know that his breath catches in his throat when a soft contented hum slips from your lips. You don’t hear the whisper of his voice from the modulator. ‘I'm right here.’

The soft home-y scent of fresh pastries fills his nose, but that was because the lot of it was currently piled in the Crest’s galley.

He’d go back there tomorrow and buy more.

Thank you for reading!

if you’d like to be added or removed from my tag lists, my form is here :)

keeper0fthestars masterlist || ao3

taglist: @opheliaelysia @hiscyarika @pedropascalito @sistasarah-sallysaidso @cinewhore @oldstuffnewstuff @oloreaa @fromthedeskoftheraven @punkpascal @b0n-chann @mstgsmy @wickedfrsgrl @the-wishmonger @ksgeekgirl @givemethatgold @princessxkenobi @getinthepoolkeanu @paintballkid711 @randomness501 @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @dearspacepirates @jaime1110 @chews-erotically @this-cat-is-dea @findhimfives @seawhisperer @fleetwoodmac-tshirt @thirstworldproblemss @stardust-galaxies @filthybookworm @emilykjh @beskar-tano @artsymaddie @littlemissthistle @fruitsaladtree @over300books @leonieb @lucifer- @recklesswit @rosiefridayrogersunday @lunarthoughts @astroboots @buckstaposition @ofstardustandbone @moonlight-prose @magpie-to-the-morning @loversandantiheroes @pedro-pastel @agirllovespancakes @jitterbugs927 @thewayofthemandalorian @yoditorian @blogbykate @veracruz-djarin @bayne @lialialia2

din djarin tags: @tiffdawg @pedropascallion @fangirlingss @lutallicaa @myguiltypleasures21 @nikey-no-likey @tibbietibbs @sherala007 @neekid @lola766 @reader-without-a-story @mothandpidgeon @miceenscene @notabotiswear

if you’ve asked to be tagged and I’ve missed you, please let me know!

#din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian #tw: panic #tw: nightmares #din djarin #i just really want to be held after a nightmare #fic: i'm right here #*mine: writing #i've had to reformat this so many times i'm not sure if anything will stick

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kiirokero · 4 years ago

Text

Sit and Heal (JJK) (Teaser)

Pairing: Werewolf!Jeongguk x Witch!Reader

Summary: “You have scars, Y/n, both on your heart and on your skin. The one on your arm may be healed, but the one on your heart isn’t. Please. Let me lick your wounds,” Or: The wolf that visits you every afternoon is your shoulder to lean on as you realize it's time to learn to love and trust again, even if it’s hard.

Word Goal: 10k+

Approximate Release Date: Beginning-Mid May

Note: If you wanna be tagged when Sit and Heal comes out, just comment or message me :) Also, I was literally so anxious to post this, I’m so worried people will think it’s trash :)

“Go home. You have others waiting for you, don’t you?” You spoke, and the wolf turned back towards the forest, where the trees grew thicker and the brush became more unforgiving. Again, the wolf looked towards you for a second, before it ran into the thicket. Gone. Its presence seemingly no more than an apparition. You felt like you met a ghost.

“Goodbye...”

Meow

“No, Yume,”

Meow

“No, bub”

Meoooww

“Yume, it’s raining. We can’t go outside,” You scold the cat who is currently eyeing you while you prepare supper for the night. You caught a chicken the other day, so you were happily making some chicken soup. Or you were trying to, if it wasn’t for the black cat who was currently whining his heart out next to you. “You’ll get snatched up by that wolf if you go out there,” You playfully threatened.

Yume grumbled out an annoyed mew, already familiar with the wolf you met and had previously rambled to him about the exact day you met it. It’s been about 3 days since your first run-in with the chestnut-colored wolf, and everything's been relatively normal. You did your daily spell work, foraged until the days turned to night, checked your snares with hope in your heart.

And you never saw the wolf again.

But life goes on, and you’re hungry.

Meow... You sighed, dejected, tired of explaining to the cat that it’s cold, wet, and dark outside. Not the best weather for outside time. Meow. You put the spoon that you were stirring the soup with down, turning to the black furball with your hands on your hips. “Alright, out,” You groaned, shooing the cat away from the kitchen towards the living room. “It’s warm here, your favorite kind of temperature. Just lay down until dinner, okay? I’ll even put more wood on the fire,”

You did as you promised as Yume begrudgingly got on the couch, still boring his green eyes into the back of your head. You grabbed some wood from the stack that laid next to the brick fireplace and threw it in. You flicked your wrist causing sparks came flying out towards the wood. The flames revived energetically, painting the living room in a serene orange glow, illuminating both you and the black cat behind you.

You dusted off your hands, turning around to give Yume a kiss on the forehead. “Maybe tonight we can do a tarot reading for the two of us, yeah?” You bargained, earning a content meow from the cat. You chuckled, scratching behind the familiar’s ear before you went back to the kitchen.

The rain furiously beat against the windows of your small cottage; the wind howling as it whipped against the old wooden boards. The house creaked and groaned under the power of the storm, but you knew your protection charm wouldn’t allow anything to happen to the cottage. Luckily, there was no thunder booming or lighting running bright white cracks in the dark grey sky, it was just the rain and the wind.

You were humming the tune of a folk song you remember your mother singing as you chopped up some carrots and plopped them in the soup, unaware of the cat that was currently sneaking towards a window. Yume jumped up on the windowsill, expertly avoiding the terracotta pot filled with different herbs and flowers. The window was unlatched. An error on your part, but a perfect stroke of luck for Yume.

Yume bumped the window open, causing the shudders to catch in the wind and bang against the wall. You jumped, dropping the spoon into the pot, splashing the soup around the stove and onto you. You hissed at the feeling of hot soup on your cheekbone, but ultimately ignored it, turning off the stove and walking back out into the living room.

An icy chill met your skin as you entered the room, causing your skin to rise with goose bumps. You shivered. The fire was now a low ember and the curtains furiously whipped around in the harsh wind, rain seeping in and dripping onto the floor. You groaned, realizing that you probably forgot to latch it. “Just my luck,” You sighed as you closed and latched the window, turning to go tend to the fire again.

That’s when you stopped mid-step, swirling around to look at the couch, noticing a lack of a Yume. “Yume?” You called out into the quiet house. No answer. Yume was a cat. It wasn’t like he was going to say “Hello” back, but he would come if called. Nothing. “Yume!” You shouted, a bit more panicked. Again, no sign of the furball. Quickly, you rushed through the house, checking every room. You looked under your bed, behind the dresser, under blankets, everywhere. But there was no Yume.

Anxiety seeped into your veins like viscous tar, clogging up your lungs and throat. “Y-Yume...?” You choked out, your mind and heart running a mile a minute. You felt tears well up in the corner of your eyes. They burned as they ran down your cheeks. You sat down on the couch, covering your face with your hands as you tried to calm your breathing. With each inhale you choked, coughing with trembling lips.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Yume probably went outside. He’s a smart cat, it’ll be okay,” You whispered to yourself in a shaky voice, taking in a few more gulps of air. You willed yourself up on trembling legs, stumbling over to the coat rack. “It’s okay,” You sighed out once more, throwing on your raincoat and boots, stepping outside into the ferocious storm.

Wind licked the wet trails of your tears as rain battered against your body. Trees bent over to the will of the storm, looking ready to snap, as their leaves rustled together producing an eerie symphony that made your hair rise. The sky was void of any light from the stars or the moon, covered in a thick layer of intimidating grey clouds. “Yume!” You called out into the night, desperate to see any sign of the lean cat. Nothing again.

You continued to call for Yume, walking deeper and deeper into the dense forest. It was getting darker the further you walked away from your cottage, making it hard to see the sharp stones and slick moss that covered the muddy forest ground. You reached into your pocket, fishing out the amulet that you always had on hand. It glowed. It didn’t give off light like a flame, but was enough to light your way.

The amulet let out a soft green hue as you continued to call for your cat, voice progressively getting more desperate. “Yume! Please!” You shout with a trembling voice, the biting cold and gripping fear threatening to push you down to your knees.

Meow!

You gasp, whipping around in a circle, trying to spot the source of the noise. You felt dizzy as you continued to turn, straining your eyes to peer through the thick trees and bushes. “Yume!” You yell again, continuing to turn in circles. “Yume! Please... Baby please,” You cry, bending to the will of your aching heart, falling to your knees. The wet, sloppy mud seeped through your pants. The rain splashing dirt on your face. But you couldn’t care less. “Yume...” You sniffled.

Meow

Yume called back, his call sounding just in front of you. You looked up, expecting to see just your little black cat with his green eyes and soft fur, but what was actually in front of you threw you into a living nightmare. You froze, your heart dropping as you hyperventilated, lungs burning from the cold. You couldn’t move. Your eyes locked onto the scene in front of you, like a cruel form of torture.

There, Yume was hanging by his scruff, in the mouth of a giant wolf.

“Yume!” You shrieked, finding your voice again. You reached out for the black cat, shying away when you registered that a wolf was right there. “Nonono, Yume, please...” You lamented, covering your mouth as sobs threatened to bubble their way out of your throat.

But instead of the wolf dropping a dead carcass at your feet, it gently let Yume down, allowing the cat to run over to you and lick at your tears. You sniffled, reaching out a shaky hand to pull Yume towards you. You buried your face in Yume’s fur, letting out the sobs you were desperately holding in.

Yume let you hold him in the chilling rain, licking your face to comfort you. “You’re okay... You’re okay,” You choked out, hiccuping on air. Mew... Yume spoke up, nudging his sopping wet head against your cheek, as if saying, “It’s okay. We’re okay” Even if in your brain you knew everything should be fine now, that you should stop crying and get back home, you couldn’t move. Your tired heart chained you in place like a rock sunk to the bottom of the ocean.

It felt as if all the strength you were fiercely clinging onto while you wandered though the forest had slipped between your fingers like sand. You wanted to lay there in the mud and stay there until morning, but you knew you had to get yourself together. Yume was shivering, you were shivering, and it was dark. Yet you couldn’t move. You sheltered Yume inside your coat as you tried to pick up the scattered pieces of yourself, .

Whine...

You lifted your head from where you buried it in the wet cat's fur, catching the eye of the wolf you’d forgotten all about. It looked at you with drooping ears and a bent head, like a scolded puppy. It whined again, lifting one of its paws like it was going to step forward, but opting not to, hesitating. “You found him,” You whispered out, voice scratchy from the sobs that had wracked through your throat.

The wolf tilted his head in confusion. You would’ve too. Why are you talking to this animal like their Yume? Yume was special in a witchy way. He was your familiar. Like a loyal companion, but sassier. Yume was in tune with your emotions 9 times out of 10. Yume played around with you when you were happy, snuggled you when you were tired, and comforted you through times of panic and sadness. Yume understood you because he was made for you.

A wild wolf wasn’t

Yet, that didn’t deter you as you continued to speak. “Thank you...” You sniffled. You took a closer look at the wolf, looking it up and down. The same golden chestnut fur, now soaked and illuminated in a hue of green from the amulet that currently laid in the mud. Despite the lack of light, its yellow eyes seemed to glow. “Ah, you’re that wolf that was stuck in my snare...” You said, and the wolf took your friendly tone as an invitation to get closer.

Slowly, it approached you, ears and head still down to look less intimidating. You were too emotionally exhausted to be scared again. That, or you subconsciously trusted the wolf more than you thought. “You must be cold,” You commented, staring at the wolf saturated coat. The wolf nudged at your own soaked coat, as if saying, “You too,” and you softly chuckled. It nudged you again, this time on your side, trying to get you to stand up. You didn’t. You couldn’t find the energy too, but the wolf kept nudging.

You gradually stood on trembling legs out of annoyance, tiring of the wolf’s persistence. You held Yume in your arms, still under your coat, as the wolf tugged at your dirty pant-leg. You took a step forward, and the wolf went on ahead until it realized you weren’t beside it. It jogged back, pulling on your pant-leg again. “You’re a weird one,” You mumbled out with a small smile, indulging the wolf by following it.

The wolf led you through the rain and mud. Looking back occasionally to check if you were still there. You didn’t know where it was leading you, but the trees thinned out, meaning you were moving away from the thick parts of the forest that are easy to get lost in. The storm continued to beat down on the three of you, creating a thin veil-like fog that hindered your ability to see.

But the wolf seemed unfazed as it continued to walk without fault, walking until an orange glow pierced through the fog. Your eyes widened when you realized it was your cottage. The wolf had led you back to your cottage. “Wha? How did you...?” You breathed out, looking down at the wolf who was now looking at you.

The wolf was definitely odd. It seemed more aware than the average lupus, like it could hear and understand you. Like it knew what you needed. Strange, no doubt, but you were a witch, you experienced strange things all the time. Hell, the entire forest you lived in was renowned for being supernatural and “dangerous” as in, magical.

Birds often brought you pretty stones and flowers, the squirrels liked to share their food with you, and the plant life seemed to come alive around you. Nothing in your life was “normal”, it was all strange. The wolf was probably like the birds and squirrels. A forest helper of sorts.

So with that rationalization, you left it be.

You walked up to your porch, opening the front door and letting a wet Yume free in the house. You turned around, locking eyes with the wolf once again. It was a few yards away, sitting in your front garden, looking even more humongous next to your tiny daisies and tulips. It was waiting for you to go inside. “It’s cold...” You said, “And your wet...” The wolf tilted its head once again, unmoving. “I have towels... And a warm place to sleep until the morning,”

The wolf stayed seated.

“Come on,” You coaxed, patting your leg as an invitation for the wolf to move closer.

Slowly, the wolf stood up, trotting up to you and cautiously stepping into the house.

“It’s okay, they can’t hurt you anymore,”

“Just because they’re gone doesn’t mean the scars don’t burn,”

Out Now!

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jeongguk #jeon jeongguk #bts jungkook #bts #bts fic #bts werewolf au #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jeon jeongguk x reader #bts fluff

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troubatrain · 4 years ago

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runaway - n. patrick

a/n: happy sunday here’s som midday filth i wrote today? i think i might make this a little series (where all the fics sort of connect) but i have decided yet so tell me if you want more! big shoutout to @hookingminor for letting me dump ideas in her DMs. Also tagging @texanstarslove for encouraging me to expand on this blurb i wrote yesterday! hope you guys like it :)

warning : smut - it’s literally just smut

part two

You were running away if you could even count making a grand escape from Boston to Philadelphia to your brother’s place. You had submitted your final paper in your dorm at Boston College, packing your bags and loading your car in what should have been the direction home. Instead, while you were packing your ex had posted a picture with his new girlfriend, and you felt like an idiot. You couldn’t believe it, gossiping to your friends that you’d slept with him a week ago and you were so sure you were getting back together. Now, you were just heartbroken and when you needed an escape - there was always Kevin.

So you drove in the direction of Philly, calling your big brother on the way down to tell him you were on your way. Kevin was in California, but told you to come regardless, worried about his little sister. You drove in silence, your mind racing for hours, finally pulling in front of Kevin’s building a little after nine. Philly was cold, but nothing compared to the cold December temperatures you were used to. You let yourself into his place, grateful for the key you kept the last time you came for a visit. The place was dark, and you stepped into the kitchen in search of any food.

“Hey Boston.”

You jump, letting out a small yelp and almost falling to the floor. You turn around to meet Nolan’s eyes, a smirk on his face while he stifles a laugh. You huff, crossing your arms and raising your eyebrows at him, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I live here, what the fuck are you doing here?” Nolan scoffs, looking at you like you’d completely lose your mind. Nolan wouldn’t have told another soul, but he was happy to see you. Kevin would murder him if he ever let it slip, but Nolan wanted to do absolutely filthy things to you. So Nolan settled on teasing you, because if you thought he didn’t like you then he wouldn’t have to cross that line.

“If you really must know, I didn’t want to go home and tell my parents all about my ex boyfriend’s new girlfriend,” You mutter, holding in your tears because Nolan didn’t need to see you cry. You were almost sure he hated you, and you didn’t know why. Nolan was pretty nice to everyone, especially when your family came into town. Kevin loved him, and constantly bragged about his roommate, but Nolan gave you shit all the time.

Nolan let out a deep breath, processing your words and the tears that were threatening to spill from your eyes and he wanted to fix it. He wanted to throw his arms around you, and hold you until it all felt okay but that was a slippery slope for Nolan, “Go put your stuff in the guest room, I’ll get us something to eat.”

You emerged a little while later, your hair wet from a warm shower and an oversized t-shirt hanging from your frame, covering the shorts you had on. You pad into the living room, sitting on the opposite side of the couch as Nolan, tucking your knees into your chest. You looked frail like someone had taken your already broken heart and snapped it again.

“Pizza should be here soon,” Nolan whispers, looking over at you with sad eyes. He looked warm, a hoodie covering his hair that was longer since the last time you saw him, “You-”

“Want to smoke?” You both let out the question at the same time, laughing when you realized what you did. That was the one thing you and Nolan seemed to bond about, smoking with Kevin was awful because his voice seemed to echo afterwards and it was too much for the both of you. Nolan got up, disappearing for a second and reappearing with a joint already rolled in his hand.

“All you Boston,” Nolan drops them in your hands, and you roll your eyes that his dumb nickname for you. You put the joint between your lips, sparking the end and letting the smoke slip through your lips.

“Shut up baby cat,” You tease, coughing from the smoke and smirking at Nolan. Nolan takes the joint from your hand, taking a hit and letting the smoke fall from his lips.

“You don’t get to call me that,” Nolan teases, a hazy smile on his face when he looks over at you, “Feeling any better?”

“I will be when-” You go to tell him that when the pizza was here everything would be fine, and as if you were magic the doorbell buzzed to let you know your delivery was here. You make a surprised face, looking at Nolan to see if he was nearly as excited as you were, but he was just laughing at your face.

You devoured the pizza, the both of curing your munchies and settling on whatever garbage reality show was on at the time. It was a comfortable silence inching over closer and closer to Nolan as time went on, before you knew it, you were practically curled into his side. You were busy on your phone, instagram stalking your ex’s new girlfriend to compare every part of you to her.

Nolan looked down at you, furrowing his eyebrows until he figured out what you were doing. Your head was against his shoulder while you looked at who he assumed was your ex’s new girl. He sighs, taking your phone out of your hand and tossing it on the other side of the couch.

“Nolan what the fuck was that for?” You ask, raising your voice and giving Nolan a look.

“Stop comparing yourself to that girl,” Nolan huffs, his voice deep from exhaustion while he stares at you. He thinks for a moment, carefully mulling over his next words because he had one chance not to fuck this up, “You’re fucking perfect.”

“Yeah okay,” You snort, rolling your eyes and sitting up next to Nolan, “Don’t even look at me and tell if you had a choice you wouldn’t choose her.”

Your voice was shaking, and you didn’t know what answer you were expecting, Nolan was only nice to you because you were Kevin’s sister. There wasn’t any other reason Nolan Patrick would give you the time of day. Nolan's eyes were staring into yours and he rubbed a hand over his jaw while he thought. His lips pressed against your jaw pressing feather light kisses against your skin while Nolan mumbled.

I’d choose you anyday.

You’re so beautiful baby.

Only you.

His lips were ghosting over yours, your eyes closed, just waiting for him to finally close the gap between the two of you, “Kiss me Nolan.”

Nolan’s lips on yours was pure ecstasy, like every part of your body was on fire. Nolan pulled onto his lap and you straddle his hips, grinding down on him while letting out a whimper when his hand smacked your ass lightly. Nolan’s lips were on your neck, leaving a mark you know you were going to have to cover later, “Y/N-”

Nolan’s voice was deep, and your name falling from his lips instead of that stupid nickname was enough to make you wet. Your hands found the ends of Nolan’s hair, tugging on him slightly causing him to groan underneath you. Nolan pulls away, looking up at you with swollen lips, and you’d never looked better. His hands were under your shirt, your skin soft under his calloused fingertips and legs wrapped around his waist while he grew hard underneath you. He slipped a hand into your shorts, ghosting over your core with his fingers.

“Please,” You plead, pressing a kiss against Nolan’s jaw. You needed a release, someone to make you feel special even if you never spoke of this again. Nolan was a hockey player and you’d been around enough to know how easy it would be for this to be a one and done thing, “I’ll be a good girl.”

That was all it took for Nolan to slip his finger under your panties and rub a circle over your clit. You roll your hips in his, desperate for any sort of friction, “Mmm I thought you were going to be good? You’ve got to be patient princess.”

You nod, pouting and looking at Nolan who was smirking at you. He grabs your thighs, standing up and carrying you into his bedroom. You fell back on the mattress, grabbing Nolan’s neck and pulling his lips back onto yours. He slipped your panties and shorts off one swift motion, leaving them to be forgotten about. You pulled of your shirt, and Nolan stops, his eyes wandering down your body, “Nol-”

“This is better than I imagined, god you’re perfect,” Nolan hums, his hands slowly moving down your body. He finally hooks your legs over his broad shoulders, pressing a kiss to your thigh, “You’re sure about this?”

“Nolan your head is between my thighs I think I’m sure,” You tease, kicking him in the back lightly. Nolan nods, flicking your clit with his tongue, pulling a moan from your body. It was everything he ever wanted to hear. His grip on your thighs tightened, his nails digging into your skin while he teased your entrance, “Nolan, fuck-”

Nolan’s lips wrap around your clit, slipping in a finger and curling it to hit your g-spot. Your hips lifted off the mattress, grinding against Nolan’s lips while he fingered you. You were close, curses and moans leaving your mouth because there were no other thoughts running through your head other than how good Nolan was making you feel.

“I know your close baby, c’mon,” Nolan growls against your pussy, sending you over the edge. You let you a yelp, your orgasm overcoming you while Nolan fingered you through your high. You ran your hands through his hair while you caught your breath, Nolan pressing kisses into your thighs. He didn’t give you much downtime, grabbing a condom from his bedside drawer and kicking off his sweats. You played with your clit, watching Nolan roll the condom over his cock and your pussy dripped in anticipation.

“I want to cum to all over your cock,” You whimper, Nolan finally sliding inside of you. He was big and the feeling was sensational. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, snapping his hips into you while you screamed underneath him, “Harder.”

Nolan was in euphoria, his name was leaving your lips like a prayer, begging him to absolutely ruin you. This was Nolan’s dirtiest fantasy, from the moment Kevin introduced him to his little sister with a threat for Nolan to keep his grimy little hands off of you. His hands were all over you now, gripping your hips while he fucked you, sure to leave bruises in his wake. Nolan’s hand ghosted over your neck, and you let out a deep breath at the contact, “Can I?”

“Fuck, yes,” You nod, letting Nolan’s large hand wrap around your throat. His was using you for leverage, fucking you into his mattress while you let out moans underneath him, “Fuck I’m close-”

“Be a good girl and cum for me,” Nolan spat, teeth grazing your jaw while he watched you fall apart underneath him. He let go of the grip on your throat, giving you no time to rest before his strokes got faster. He needed to chase his high, spilling into the condom while you shook from the aftershocks of your own. Nolan stayed inside you for a minute, his head in your neck while you watched the sweat that was glistening on his forehead. You ran a finger through his hair, wondering what the fallout from this was going to be.

“That was,” Nolan stops, muttering against your skin because he was speechless. The wasn’t just good, it was mind blowing, and the temptation to do it again might be a problem for him, “That was fucking incredible Boston.”

“Sure was,” You breathe out, picking Nolan’s head up and pressing your lips to his. You made out lazily for a while, basking in the post sex glow before you knew you were going to have to kick Nolan out. Kevin would be back in the morning, and if he caught you in bed with his teammate Nolan wouldn’t live to see another day.

“We should do this again sometime?” Nolan asks, watching you collect your clothes from his room. He wanted you to stay, sleeping under his arm in his bed where you should have, but he knew he was playing with fire. You look at him, a smirk on your face and a blush on your cheeks.

“You just might get lucky twice Nolan.”

And Nolan hoped he would...

#nolan patrick #nolan patrick imagine #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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ill-be-your-honey-bri · 4 years ago

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Banana Pancakes

HELLO MY LOVES! WHEW! This one took me WAY longer than I had wanted it to, but you know, life comes at ya and you gotta go with the punches.

That being said, this fic is part of @stellarboystyles THREE YEAR ANNIVERSARY FIC CHALLENGE! Congrats darling (though I’m a month late)! I had picked the single parent trope and the line I chose to use for the challenge is bolded and italicized in my fic.

Without further ado, I present my Nanny!Harry fic. Enjoy, leave a like, REBLOG FOR THE LOVE OF GOD! Send me some feed back, asks, love or hate, I don't care. TELL ME YOUR THOUGHTS!

I love you and treat people with kindness.

Warnings: Lots of fluff, a sprinkle of smut, and a dash of angst (if you squint).

Harry woke up to the smell of the crisp, cool fall air coming through his cracked bedroom window. The sky was still an inky fog as he stretched his arms over his head, skin pimpling as the air caressed him. He woke up before his alarm out of habit, knowing it would ring out shortly.

He roused out of his bed, extending his stretch through his legs and let out a satisfied groan when that one particular muscle in his lower back felt the pull it desired. He turned to his phone to turn his alarm off before going to the window to shut it, only after his dark tabby cat climbed back into his rightful home. Harry mumbled a ‘morning handsome’ to his fuzz ball, crouching down to give Elvis some morning loving.

Elvis followed Harry into the kitchen, knowing it was time for breakfast, mewing while figure-eighting between Harry’s feet.

“I know bub, I’m getting it.” Harry let out a yawn as he was filling the cat’s bowl. Elvis jumped on the counter, shoving his face in the bowl before Harry was even done filling it. “Eager this morning, are ya? Out there charming all the lady cats got you hungry? I hope you were a gentleman, I taught you better.”

Harry began making his coffee and filled his mug before returning to his room to get ready for the day. He decided on picking her favorite sweater; his blue ‘mon petite’ chickadee jumper. He laid it out on his bed as he pulled out his brown wide legged trousers and a striped button up to layer. He jumped in the shower to rinse off the morning haze and the ‘sleepies’, as his girl calls it.

His girl.

He smiled as he thought about her, what they had planned for the day. Maybe he will take her to the museum, stop by her favorite cafe, pick up a new book for them to read. He finished getting ready, pulling out his bike from the hallway closet to get it all set for his venture to his girl’s house. He grabbed his backpack, filled it with his girl’s favorite snacks, books, and their matching lavender water bottles, smiling as he threw his bag on his shoulders and carried his bike down the stairs of the apartment building.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry got to his girl’s home, putting in the code as he turned the key as to not awake her with the alarm. He put down his bag by the entry table, kicking off his scuffed up white Vans before softly padding up the stairs. He saw the door cracked open, slowly pushing it open further before walking to kneel by the bed.

He gently pushed her unruly hair off her beautiful face, seeing her lips in a pout and a furrow in her brow. She stirred slightly before her big doe eyes sleepily blinked open, causing Harry to smile down at her, which earned him a smile back.

“Good morning, my sweet girl.”

“Mornin’, did mama leave yet?”

“Not yet, Monkey. You know she can never go to work without giving you your kiss.”

Layla sat up fully, making grabby hands for Harry to pick her up and carry her downstairs. Harry could hear you in the shower getting ready for work as Layla cuddled into him on his way to your kitchen.

If you would have asked Harry two years ago if he thought he would be the nanny to your daughter, he would have laughed at the idea. He had been working at a daycare center when he first met you and his girl, Layla.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

She was an infant when you had to return to work. Being a single mom, you needed to do what was best for you and your little bundle of joy. You had done extensive research on all the daycare facilities in your area, even venturing out a little further to get the best for your little angel. You had taken her to Small Wonders Daycare, nervous for your first day back as a pediatrician resident at the children’s hospital and your first day away from the love of your life.

You had walked into her assigned room provided by the administration when you completed the application and interview. The room was duckling yellow with moss green accents. Babies were laying on their bellies on the floor, being cooed at by a gentleman in a sheep sweater vest and tan trousers. He looked up to see you with Layla in her carrier, beaming and quickly hopped on his socked feet to meet you at the door. His co-teacher promptly laid with the little ones on the floor.

“You must be Mrs. Y/LN!”

“Um, no, just Dr. Y/LN or Y/N preferably.” You smiled at him as he was blushing from embarrassment.

“I - I am so sorry.”

“It’s alright. Not the first time it has happened.” You smiled at him before looking down at your little one who is looking around with wide eyes. Harry also looked at the carrier, quickly gaining his composure as he saw the little beauty.

“And you must be Layla!” Cooing at her, causing her to smile and blink slowly. He got on his knees as you placed the carrier on the floor so that he was able to unhook her and gently pick her up to his chest. He softly looked down at her as she returned the gaze, “Don’t tell the other girls this but, you have got to be the most beautiful little girl I have ever met.”

Layla quickly nuzzled into his chest, scratching gently at one of the sheep on his vest, giving you a sense of comfort and ease, knowing that your daughter is already in good hands. You had tried not to cry as you told Harry her schedule and routine, handing him her diaper bag.

“She prefers her milk at room temp, she gets fussy if it's too hot or too cold. There is enough breastmilk for the day and formula as well, if you need it. She has been eating me dry.” Harry gave a light chuckle, handing you your baby as he was putting the breastmilk in the refrigerator, Layla’s diapers and wipes in their designated spot by the changing table.

“I packed some extra clothes in her bag too, lots of bibs. She is not the most ladylike when it comes to eating, huh baby?” You gently rubbed her cheek as you looked down at her with maternal love.

Harry, always in awe of the way a mother could love her child and after being with you for a few moments, he knew that you could never love or cherish anything more than the little being cradled in your arms. The way your daughter looked up at you with awe, watching your every movement. That was a love that Harry always craved for.

Seeing Layla grow was one of Harry's fondest memories. He was there when she started to take her first attempt at steps, babbling and cooing her first ‘words’. When it was time that Layla was meant to graduate from his class room, it broke his heart. And it broke yours too.

Harry and Layla had created such a bond, you couldn’t bear for them to part. So you did the only thing you thought you could do when you walked into the classroom to see Harry laying on his back with your little one being held up in the air, giggling away with a few teeth that finally peeked through her gums.

“Hello my little one!” You had knelt down on the carpet next to Harry as he was handing you Layla, who was extremely happy to see you; kicking her legs and squealing happily. “Did you have a good day?”

“She was a little monkey today!” Harry was packing up Layla’s diaper bag as he was telling you about her day. “She was trying to climb out of her crib, climbing all over my lap during lunch and my back during tummy-time.”

“Oh no! We just got crawling down like a boss and now you get the gall to start climbing! You’ll be walking before you know it and then we will be in real trouble, wont we missy?” You started to kiss her chubby cheeks, making giggles bubble from her tummy.

“I’ll certainly miss her.” Harry gave you a shy smile as he carried her diaper bag and a gift from him for Layla to you. He handed you her bag as you stood up before handing you the gift bag.

“What’s this?” You gave him a curious look as you took the bag in hand as you settled Layla on your hip.

Harry scratched the back of his neck and wiggled his socked toes. “It’s just a little something.”

Layla reached her arms out to Harry, as if she knew this would be the last day that they would be able to cuddle. You handed her over easily, tapping her bum before opening the gift bag. Inside was her favorite book to ‘read’ with Harry, (you're pretty sure it's because of the way Harry reads it to her because she crawls away every time you try to read it). There was a crochet sweater that Harry told you his mom made, and a framed photo of Harry and Layla where Layla is squeezing Harry's cheeks to pull him in for a sloppy kiss.

You held your chest as you looked at the photo and tears began to well. “Harry, this is… this is so sweet, thank you. She loves you so much.”

He smiled down at her, scrunching his face, which Layla had mocked, “I guess I love her too. You have a very special girl on your hands.” He kissed her little nose before she cuddled onto his shoulder.

“I don’t want her to have a new teacher.” You wiped your eyes as you put Layla’s gifts back in the bag. “Would you want to be her nanny, Harry?”

Harry froze at the offer, a little taken back by being offered what he would consider to be a dream job; help you care for your perfect child. Granted, Harry had thought of this before but more of a fatherly figure than a nanny, but he would take what he could get to be close to both of his girls.

“What do you say Monkey? Want me to be your nanny?”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry made his way down the stairs with Layla wrapped around his waist, her head on his shoulder. Her little fingers were twisting in the curls on the nape of Harry’s neck as he was humming and rubbing circles on her back. Layla unraveled herself as Harry approached the table to set her down so that he could start the coffee maker and begin making Lalya’s favorite breakfast.

Layla watched on with sleepy eyes, occasionally giving them a rub, as Harry pulled out a mixing bowl, flour, eggs, vanilla, bananas, and Layla’s favorite part, chocolate chips. She had quietly stood up from her perch and made her way to the ingredients as Harry was setting up the coffee pot. Harry had turned just in time to see Layla pop a small handful of chocolate chips into her mouth. She froze her movements.

“Monkey… what did I say about eating the chocolate chips before they are in your pancakes?”

Layla slowly reached for a few more, putting her hand out to Harry, “We share?”

Harry couldn’t help but to let a chortle out as he bent down, meeting his girl as her little fingers gripped on the chips that she moved to pop them in Harry’s mouth. “Thank you monkey! Would you like to help me mix?”

Layla quickly nodded as Harry picked her up to place her on the counter, making sure she was far enough from the edge before he handed her the whisk and placed the mixing bowl in front of her. Harry measured out the ingredients before putting them in the bowl for his girl to start mixing. Harry had pretended that he didn’t notice her add more handfuls of chocolate chips into the mix.

Harry heard your heels on the hardwood upstairs and Layla quickly turned when she realized you were coming down the stairs. You took Harry’s breath away, as you always did when you walked into the room. He could never take his eyes off of you when you were in his line in vision. He took in how perfect the blush pink, knee length, a-line dress perfectly hugged your curves. The way the nude heels made your legs look miles long. How perfect your hair frames your face and the beaming smile as you saw your baby girl.

“Good morning, baby!” You walked to the island of your kitchen to give your daughter a kiss, noticing the taste of chocolate when you pulled your lips from hers. You hum and squint your eyes, causing Layla to let out a giggle as she covered her mouth. “That’s funny, I’m pretty sure Harry hasn’t made you any pancakes yet, so why are your kisses so yummy?”

Layla shrugged as if she had no idea what you were talking about, causing you to look at Harry who gave you the same exact shrug your daughter had just given you. You shake your head, resting your hand on Harry’s lower back as you pass to make your coffee.

Harry focused on the touch, wishing that your hand was pressed a little firmer and a little longer. He wished that after you kissed your perfect carbon copy, you would kiss him too and catch him red handed after sneaking a few chocolate chips. He had wished that he wouldn’t have to go home at the end of the day to his lonely apartment. He shook himself from his thoughts as he heard you thank him for making coffee.

“Oh, it’s no problem. I made enough for you to take some with you too.”

“God, you’re a saint!” You squeezed his shoulder as you walked to the stool that held your purse and work tote. “Starting as a full time doctor at the children’s hospital has been so draining. I’m pretty sure I have been drinking a whole pot by myself.”

“I know that they just hired you full time but you should take some time for yourself.”

Layla watched on as you and Harry talked about work, slowly stopping her mixing and reached her hand for the chocolate chip bag. Harry slapped his hand on the bag, moving it away without even looking in Layla’s direction as he continued to talk about you and your self care. You let out a chuckle at Layla’s shocked pout as you take your last sip of your coffee.

“Alright my love, I need to get going. Be good for Harry.” Layla reached up to wrap her arms around your neck and gave you another peck to your lips.

“I will mama, I love you!”

“I love you too, baby. Have a good day Harry, call me if you need anything.”

With that, you walked out the door and got in your car to go to work as Harry got back to making breakfast for his girl.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

After eating breakfast and doing a team clean up, Harry took Layla to her room to pick out an outfit for the day. Layla stood there, wide eyed, watching Harry as he moved around her room, knowing exactly where everything was.

“I was thinking we could go to the park today, what do you think monkey? And after the park, we would go to the museum.”

Layla perked up, excited to go to two of her favorite places, hoping Harry would list her most favorite place when they have a day planned like this.

“And the cafe?” She looked up at him with hopeful eyes, now standing by his side while he was pulling socks out of her dresser.

“I don’t know monkey… do you think we should?” Harry was trying to hold back his smile, knowing how devastated she would be if he were to ever tell her no to her favorite cafe.

“Please, Harry? It’s my favorite.” Of course, she had to use those gorgeous eyes that she clearly got from her mother. Harry realized that he is so weak for these girls.

“Alright, I guess we must then.” Harry closed the drawer with his hip and Layla jumped and clapped before sprinting to her ensuite.

Layla quickly stripped out of her clothes and turned the knobs to the bath herself before using all her little strength to put the plug in the tub. Harry was smart enough one day, when Layla was feeling extra autonomous, to put stickers on where the perfect bath temperature would be, so that Layla would never burn herself or cry when it’s too cold.

Harry laid out her outfit for the day on the sink counter, grabbing a cup and kneeling before the tub to help wash her hair. He heard “I can do it” more times than he can count until it became time to rinse her hair, where she would wordlessly tip her head back and cover her eyes with her little hands.

They would mindlessly chat about what they were excited to see at the museum, what they would play at the park, until Layla randomly asked, “Do you have a daddy?”

Harry froze. He knew he obviously was going to answer but he was afraid of where the conversation would lead to. “I do.” He let the silence settle, not wanting to push Layla to talk due to his anxiety.

“Mama says I have a daddy out there somewhere but she loved me too much to share me.” Layla rubbed the water away from her face before looking at Harry with a gentle smile that began to turn to a soft pout.

“What’s the matter, monkey? You can talk to me.” Harry put the cup off to the side on the tub ledge before leaning in to listen to his sweet girl. Her little fingers began to trace the ink on his left arm since his arms were exposed after Harry pushed up his sleeves for bath time.

“I’m sad I don’t know anything about my daddy. Did he not love me?” Harry could see the tears form in Layla’s eyes and he could physically feel them form in his along with the lump in his throat.

“Oh, baby. I don’t know anything about your daddy but I do know that he is a very lucky man to have had you and mama.”

“Why is he gone?” Layla’s tears were freely falling and her little lip was trembling.

Harry grabbed Layla’s towel, picking her up and wrapping the towel around her so he could hold her to his chest as she nuzzled in his neck, exactly how she did when they first met.

“My sweet girl.” He was rubbing her back and rocking her back and forth. Harry was curious as to what had brought this on but he didn’t want to press it. He did know that he was going to properly spoil his girl rotten today to make all her worries and heartache disappear.

Layla sniffled and wiped her runny nose on the towel before pushing away from Harry, resting her hands on his chest to look him in the face. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a good squeeze, making a smile spread to Harry’s cheeks, holding his girl closer.

“Will you Elsa braid my hair like mama does?”

“Of course, sweetheart. Probably won’t look as good as mama’s but I will try.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry must say, he’s pretty proud of his braid as he is putting Layla’s glittery sky blue helmet on her.

Harry had dressed her in an outfit he would probably wear. You always had a good sense of fashion and Layla was picking up on it as well, now that you have been giving her some more independence in choices.

Layla was dressed in dark purple corduroy flares with a cream sweater, speckled with pastel pinks, purples, and blues. Harry made sure that she wore comfortable but warm shoes, opting for some brown leather Chelsea boots. Harry grabbed her mustard yellow peacoat and threw a pair of gloves in his backpack, just in case, along with more socks, another sweater, extra hair ties and clips (Harry would occasionally steal her butterfly clips for his own hair). He made sure that their water bottles were filled and there were snacks and sanitary wipes in the front pocket of his backpack before throwing it on his shoulders.

Harry and Layla walked out the front door, her helping lock up the house, before walking to Harry’s bike. He picked up Layla to set her in the kid carrier attached to the back of Harry’s bike. You had been extremely nervous when Harry had first told you about the seat and wanting to take Layla for a ride. You offered to help him get a car, even if it was for your own sanity, but Layla loved riding on Harry’s bike way too much to ever say no.

Layla was patient and cooperative with Harry hooking her in, making sure she was safe and secure. Harry checked the straps and buckles three times before he gave Layla an approving nod while she returned his gesture, adding a giggle. Harry swung his leg over the seat, kicked up the kickstand and planted his feet on the pedals, making their way to the park. Layla enjoyed the scenery whizzing by while humming some song that Harry couldn’t make out, otherwise he would have joined her.

They made their way to the park, enjoying the rest of the morning hours there before they ventured to the cafe on the lake that was close to the park. Harry kept his bike locked up, opting to hold Layla’s hand as they walked to the cafe.

Harry had asked Layla why she likes this cafe so much many times and her answers had changed over the years. She used to tell Harry that it was because of “duckies”, then it turned to liking their hot cocoa. Today when he asked, his heart was warmed by her words and how wise she had become by the ripe age of three.

“Mama brings me here when we go to the park and you always bring me here. It’s our family spot.”

The waitress came over, beaming at Harry and Layla sitting across from each other, coloring on the placemat together.

“Oh my goodness, your daughter is so cute!”

Layla looked up at the waitress with a scowl before looking at Harry, causing him to laugh.

“I’m her nanny.”

The waitress looked taken back but quickly changed her features, looking Harry up and down and biting her lip. Layla continues to scowl at the waitress as Harry told her that they were ready to order.

Layla, being the smart girl she is, noticed how the waitress demeanor changed. How she was now only focused on Harry, began to twirl her hair and the constant lip biting. Harry had ordered his food and looked to Layla, who cleared her throat to get the waitress’s attention.

“My mama is prettier and she’s a doctor.”

Harry choked on his water at Layla’s childlike bluntness, causing a laugh to escape from his lips that he was trying to hold back. The waitress now was the one to wear the scowl as Layla’s own demeanor became confident with a hint of sass.

The waitress finally looked to Layla, “That’s not a very nice thing to say to a stranger.”

“It’s not nice to ignore me. I want hot cocoa with extra whipped cream and grilled cheese. Thank you.” Layla went back to coloring on the placemat, dismissing the waitress.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

They had finished their lunch, the waitress returning minimally since she got scolded by the child. Layla had cleaned up her area, stacking all of her dirty dishes and utensils onto Harry’s plate before hopping down from her chair and reaching for Harry’s hand. They got back to Harry’s bike, having Layla grip onto Harry’s trouser leg as he was unlocking the bike to set it up properly to get Layla back in her seat.

On their way to the museum, she was playing with the keychain they had made together that was attached to the zipper of Harry’s backpack. They were chatting about what parts of the museum they were going to be looking forward to.

Harry had tried to make their time together as educational as possible. Her little brain was ever growing, becoming curious, and he tried to feed its thirst for knowledge. The museum was having an exhibit on extinct animals so he had made sure they made it in time for them to join.

Layla was a wonderful listener. Harry had to carry her, per her request, so that she could be close to the presenter as they walked around the exhibit so she wouldn't miss a word he was saying. Her eyes were glued to the speaker when he spoke, focused on the extinct animal figure on display when he would direct their focus. Layla had her fingers wrapped in Harry’s curls, twisting them gently in her little fingers as she sponged up the information. She would occasionally rest her head on his shoulder, nuzzle close, and Harry would rest his head on hers.

“Getting tired, sweetheart?”

Layla lazily shook her head no as her grip tightened on to Harry. Harry knew she would be fast asleep the moment he got her into the bike seat.

Layla slept all the way home, Harry careful to pull her out to not disturb her, holding her close as he got them inside. He carried her to her room, slowly peeling off her coat and boots before covering her in a crochet blanket; another gift made by his own mother for his girl. Layla curled onto her side, subconsciously grabbing for her stuffed monkey Harry got for her for her third birthday, and soft snores began to fall from her lips.

Harry kissed her cheek before turning on her white noise maker and leaving her door cracked. Harry made his way down stairs and plopped on the couch, falling asleep himself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry woke up covered in a soft sherpa blanket with the smell of garlic and tomato filling his nostrils. He let out a stretch before sitting up, seeing you standing at the stove and Layla at the table painting.

You were still in your blush dress from the morning but were barefoot and hair up in a messy bun with pieces framing your face. You were sipping from your red wine glass while pushing chicken and veggies in a skillet.

Layla perked up when she saw Harry staring at you. She had noticed this look he gave you before, the ever observant girl, but she didn’t know how to verbalize what the look could mean. She let Harry watch you a little longer until you had noticed he was awake when you turned around.

“Morning sunshine! Did this one wear you out today?” You were smiling at him as you continued to chop vegetables to put them in a salad, popping a chunk of cucumber in your mouth and handing Layla a chunk for herself, popping her piece in her mouth almost identical to you. Except, Harry was focused on the way your lips curled into a soft smile while you eloquently chewed and swallowed the piece of green veg before licking your lips, causing Harry to realize how dry his mouth was and how sweaty his palms were.

“No, not at all. We had a great day, guess I just needed the rest.”

You nodded as you pulled three plates down from the cupboard to place on the table. You mumbled a “time to clean up” into Layla’s hair, that is now loose from its Elsa braid, as you kissed the top of her head. Layla gently put her paints away, Harry helping with the water cup and laying the painting on the counter to dry. Harry walked Layla to the bathroom so they could both wash their hands for dinner.

You had made up the plates and placed them on the table before Harry and Layla had walked out. Getting Layla a cup for water and another red wine glass, you poured Harry a glass and topped yours off, setting them on the table as the two walked out.

This had become a strange tradition for the three of you after you had noticed that Harry had lost weight and was concerned that he wasn’t eating properly at home by himself. He swore it wasn’t an issue but you had gone full mama bear mode on Harry and started to put a plate in front of him before he had an opportunity to tell you “no thank you”. You sat at the table with Layla and Harry, discussing their day.

“Mama, the lady at the cafe ignored me to stare at Harry. It wasn’t nice!”

You let out a giggle, thinking to yourself that you can’t blame the poor waitress for being enchanted by the magnetic being across from you. “You’re right baby, that’s not nice but hopefully Harry got a phone number out of it.”

You smiled across at Harry and he began to blush, opening his mouth to speak but Layla beat him to it.

“Why would Harry need her phone number? He can call you!”

As calm and collected as you were, Harry went into a slight panic; was he really that obvious when it came to his feelings for you?

“Again, you’re right baby. Harry can call me any time he wants.”

Harry’s eyes went wide and Layla’s scowl turned into a bright smile, going back to eating her dinner while Harry sat there frozen.

“I can call you?”

“Of course Harry, any time. Even if it’s just to check in on Layla.”

Harry deflated a little when you were clear about your intentions for a phone call just as a friendly gesture. Harry went back to eating, trying to disguise his disappointment.

Harry had helped you clean up while Layla went to get her pajamas on. There was an awkward silence looming over the two of you that you could both sense but you weren’t sure who would cut through it first, so you decided to bare the knife.

“Can I ask you a huge favor? You have every right to say no if you are busy or you just don’t want to.”

“Of course, can ask me anything.”

“Would you be able to watch Layla Friday night?”

“Yeah, no problem. Did you get called in to cover at the hospital?”

“Um, no, actually. I have a date.”

The knife you used to cut through the heavy air around you just went right into Harry’s heart. He couldn’t tell if you could notice but he could feel his blood run cold and his face go pale.

“No problem. I’ll just stay all day Friday. I should get going now though.”

“You don’t want to stay for the Great British Bake off? You always stay to watch after dinner.” You gave him a pout as you wiped your hands with a rag to dry them. Those eyes always work on him, no matter if they are from Layla or you, but his heart couldn’t bear to look at them tonight.

“I have stuff at home to catch up on and since I’ll be busy on Friday now, I should get it done.”

“Harry, you don’t have to watch Layla on Friday if you’re already busy. I can find a babysitter.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, Harry quickly walked to the door, stopping when he saw Layla come down the stairs, trying to hold back his tears that he can feel burning.

“Good night my sweet girl, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Layla reached her arms up to hug Harry, holding her extra tight and giving her a long kiss to her cheek before gently setting her feet on the floor and heading home.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You were getting ready for your date as Harry was making dinner for him and Layla. You had offered to cook something up but Harry told you that you should get ready so you wouldn’t be late.

You walked down in the tightest dress Harry had ever seen you in, making his body ache from desire and heartbreak. How desperately he wanted to pick you up for a date with you walking out in that curve hugging maroon dress and black stiletto heel, putting your earring in and fluffing your hair to where you want it to lay.

“So pretty mama!”

“Thank you baby!” You gave the top of her head a kiss before going to pick up your phone from the charger to place in your clutch. You heard the horn of a car outside as you were grabbing your black trench coat.

“Okay baby, be good. You might be sleeping when I get back but I’ll come tuck you in. Harry, call me if you need anything.” You kissed Layla again and made your way to the door, locking it behind you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Your date has been going extremely well. David was a handsome surgeon you had met during your ER coverage when someone came in with intensive internal bleeding, leading to an emergency surgery where David was on call. Laughs were being had, drinks were flowing easy, then your phone rang.

You saw that it was Harry so you quickly answered, “Harry, is everything alright?” You could hear Layla crying in the background, making your heart race.

“Layla has a fever and I can’t get her to calm down.”

You took a deep breath, “What’s her temperature? Did you give her some children’s Tylenol?”

“She is at 100 right now, gave her the Tylenol and put a cool cloth on her head. She’s just so inconsolable right now. She wants her mama, Y/N.”

“Can I talk to her?” Harry put the phone on speaker as he continued to rock Layla, adjusting the cloth on her forehead.

You whimpered when you heard her choked sobs, gently asking, “Baby, wants the matter?”

Layla’s cries had died down a minuscule amount but you could make out what she was saying, “I want my mama!” Your heart was breaking and you looked to David, who at this point finished his wine and looked extremely annoyed.

“It’s okay baby, I’ll be home soon, okay? I’ll be right there.” Layla settled a little more and Harry ended the call with a “see you soon”.

David paid for the bill as you began to apologize and get your stuff together. David began to walk ahead of you before saying his cold goodbye at the door. “I don’t have time to drive you home, could you catch an Uber or something?”

You scoffed at him before rolling your eyes, “Yeah, that’s fine. Thanks for dinner but don’t expect a call from me.” You pulled out your phone as David walked away so that you could request an Uber.

You had rushed into your house, which was now eerily quiet for having a sick baby girl on your hands. You walked into the house further and found Harry laying on the couch topless with Layla laying on his chest, also topless and a wet towel between them. Harry had his fingers combing through Layla’s hair as they were watching Coco.

Layla lifted her head when she heard your heels on the hardwood, looking at you and tears began to brim her eyes.

“Hi my baby, you’re not feeling good, hm?” You knelt down by the couch as you stripped off your coat and Layla was reaching for you to hold her. You held her close, feeling the warmth radiating off of her but it wasn’t a concerning temperature at this point.

Harry sat up, folding the wet towel before taking it to the bathroom, walking away and coming back still topless. Your eyes explored his torso, his high waisted trousers cover up until under his butterfly. You continued to hold and rock your little one, who was now nuzzling into your neck with her breathing slowing. Your eyes finally finished their exploring of Harry’s dips and valleys when you met his eyes, mouthing a “thank you” for taking care of your daughter.

You stood up and kicked off your heels before climbing the stairs to tuck Layla in. You placed her in your bed so that you could watch her overnight. You walked back down the stairs after leaving your door cracked and promptly went to the cupboard to pull out two wine glasses and a bottle of Syrah, popping out the cork and pouring two hefty glasses before walking to the couch where Harry now sat with his shirt on. To say you were disappointed was an understatement.

Harry took the glass and looked at how full it was before giving you a look with a cocked brow and smirk. “Not good, huh?”

You ran your hand through your hair and let out a sigh. “It was fine until you called.” Harry instantly felt guilty for calling you on your date until you spoke up again.

“I didn’t tell him I had Layla, he had told me before the date that he never wanted children. I guess that should have been a major red flag. I’ve just been so alone and desperate that I took the first thing that jumped on me.” You took a huge swig of your wine before letting out a sigh. “I probably should have asked you if you needed a ride home before I started guzzling down my feelings.”

Harry smiled at you, “It’s fine. I can get an Uber.”

You almost spilt your wine when you sat up with a mouthful, quickly swallowing it. “Mm! He didn’t even drive me home! He made me get a fucking Uber!”

“What an asshole!”

“I know! Ugh, I should just give up while I’m ahead. I’ve got the most perfect daughter, I have a great job, although exhausting. I own a house and have a happy and healthy life… I guess I just get-“

“Lonely?” Harry thought that you were preaching to the choir at this point because he felt the same exact way; he had your daughter to care for, an amazing job, he is happy and healthy because you care for him.

You let out another sigh and closed your eyes, “Yes, so lonely. I have been doing this all on my own and it can be too much. I just want someone to hold me, tell me it will be okay, that I am doing a good job.”

“You’re doing an amazing job,Y/N.”

You slowly open your eyes and look to Harry who has been watching you this whole time. You let out another sigh because you can feel him pull you in but you don’t want anything to happen, not right now anyway, not like this.

As if your daughter wasn’t already your saving grace, she cried out for you right when you felt the pull to Harry become too strong. You put your wine glass down and go to your baby.

“You’re more than welcome to stay in the guest room if you don’t feel like making your way home this late. I’m going to go to bed. Goodnight Harry.”

And with that, you walked up the stairs to be with your baby and Harry called an Uber home.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry had walked in, eager to start the day with Layla, thinking about maybe baking something and going to the art museum. When he walked into the kitchen, he wasn’t expecting to see you in a long t-shirt, bed head and bare legs with Layla on the counter eating sliced strawberries.

“Oh shit, Harry!”

“Mama! No swear!”

“Oop, sorry baby. Harry, I must have forgot to tell you that I had today off.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, I can head home so you can spend the day with Layla.”

“Or you can stay…” you were looking at him with hopeful eyes that he would agree to spend the day with you and Layla. “We would love for you to stay.”

“Yeah Harry! Please?”

The way that both of you are now giving him the eyes, he’s lucky he didn’t turn into a puddle on the floor. Harry began to peel his jacket and boots off, exposing his layered red sweater over a cream button up to match his brown and cream plaid pants, walking over to the island for Layla to pop a strawberry in his mouth. You smiled up at him as he began to help you prep the breakfast to build your own waffles.

Harry helped Layla get ready for the day, getting her in some black fleece leggings, a chambray shirt with some brown leather combat boots. Layla said she wanted mama to do her hair and that Harry shouldn’t take it personally.

Layla sprinted into your ensuite where you were finishing your simple makeup and loose curls, wearing high waisted dark skinny jeans and a cream off the shoulder sweater. You were still barefoot at this point and Harry thought that he could get used to this.

You made sure you unplugged your curling wand and moved it away from the sink so that you could sit Layla on it to do her hair. She already had white bows in her hand for you to put in her hair. You quickly did a crown braid to keep her hair out of her face and finished it off with a top knot, throwing a bow at the base of the bun. You dashed on your perfume, doing the same to Layla per her request and then threw some chapstick on the both of you before picking up Layla to place on your hip.

You looked up to Harry and asked him if he was ready to go. He swallowed that dry mouth away before giving you a nod.

You got Layla settled in her car seat, tucking your purse under her feet and gave her a kiss before you climbed into the driver's seat. Harry got comfortable in the passenger seat, looking in the mirror in the visor to look back at Layla who was ‘reading’ a book.

You looked over to Harry who was smiling in the mirror, causing you to smile before asking if everyone was ready. You stopped by a coffee shop drive through where you got Layla her hot cocoa, yourself a flat white, and Harry a black coffee. The drive to the art museum was a little ways so you let Layla pick the music for the car. You hummed along to the Disney songs until Layla was begging for you and Harry to sing, causing you both to giggle but sing along.

Harry took over when it came to the art museum, educating Layla on artists and types of paints and materials used. You followed behind letting them having their time together, warming to see Harry adore your daughter and her being excited to learn. You took a few pictures of the two of them and were reviewing them when Layla was hyper fixated on Monet’s “Sunflowers” painting. You froze at a picture of Harry knelt down with Layla between his legs and his hand on her tummy. She was pointing to a painting on the wall while Harry was looking at the camera with a beaming smile, the next one was the same pose with a softer smile and he was looking behind the camera, looking at you.

You looked up to see Layla running to you with arms open and Harry jogged close behind. Layla was talking a mile a minute about the sunflower painting as you knelt down to pick her up. You kept looking at Harry who was giggling at Layla’s gabbing and excitement while you could not focus on anything other than the way Harry’s dimples were popping and his eyes were crinkling. You shook yourself from the trance as you helped Layla get her jacket from the museum coat closet.

You decided to go out of the way to go to the cafe by the park. This would be the first time all three of you went together and you knew Layla would be excited when she saw the car pull into the parking lot.

You were right; she squealed and tried to get herself out of her car seat but Harry had beat her to it. She was in awe of the trees surrounding the lake and the cafe, all in their full bloom of fall colors. The leaves were scattered beautifully along the parking lot, leaves floating in the lake. The cafe was decorated in fall decor, preparing for the holiday season.

You requested a table by the widows facing the lake and sat Layla closest to the window so she could enjoy the view. She murmured how it looked like a painting at the museum and what paints were used in the art she was thinking of. You smiled at her before looking at Harry who was already looking at you.

Layla started to list all the colors she sees outside as the waitress approached, the same one that had eyes for Harry.

“Well, hello again.” She again was focused only on Harry, ignoring your’s and Layla’s presence. Harry had to laugh because the face you were making at that moment was identical to the one Layla had made the first time.

“I’ll let the ladies order first.” Harry nodded at you before you looked up at the waitress, giving her a sickly sweet smile. Her eyes widened when she looked at you, truly shocked by your beauty.

“Layla baby, you first.” Layla never looked away from outside, stating that she would like “hot cocoa with extra whip cream and a grilled cheese, please.” You had asked if she could get a side of veg along with her meal as you ordered a turkey club with a side salad and a cup of soup to share with Layla.

Harry had ordered his turkey burger with side salad before the waitress parted to bring a fresh pitcher of water. Layla had finally turned her attention back to you and Harry, going over her favorite parts of the museum throughout the meal. You're pretty sure she had listed everything she saw.

You made your way home, Layla falling asleep in the car. Harry had carried her up to her bed as you gathered all the dirty laundry to start a load. You sat at the table with your laptop, paying bills when Harry made his way down to you at the kitchen table. Harry let out a yawn and you pointed to the coffee maker.

“Fresh pot.” You smiled and lifted your mug to ‘cheers’ him. Harry sat across from you while you finished up on your computer and you suggested that you watch a movie or some garbage tv.

You got about halfway through the movie before you heard little feet pattering on the hardwood upstairs. Before you know it, Layla has crawled into your lap, laying her head on your shoulder while she looks at Harry with a sleeping smile.

“Good morning beautiful, sleep well?” She nodded at Harry as she nuzzled closer to you. You rubbed her back and patted her bum as you thought about what to do for dinner.

“I was thinking since we have already been bad all day, we should order some pizza.” Layla perked up at that before squeezing you tighter. You giggled as you pulled out your phone, hitting the speed dial to your favorite place.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

With full bellies and a sleepy Layla, you get the two of you ready for bed as Harry puts away the leftovers and throws the boxes away.

You walk down with a clean face, hair up, and a pair of green cotton plaid pajama pants and a white oversized T-shirt. Harry walked back in from the recycling outside to you holding a pint of ice cream and two spoons. You raised your eyebrows and giggled as Harry walked over to you. You popped open the pint and handed a spoon to Harry.

“Layla would be heartbroken if she saw you sharing with me and not her.” He smiled before popping the spoon in his mouth, letting the cream melt over his tongue.

You shrug, licking your spoon, “I don’t share my ice cream with just any one Harry.” You take another spoonful and look at Harry as you take your bite.

Harry could feel his heart racing, his mouth drying, his hands are sweaty. He can feel the word vomit in the back of his throat make its way to the tip of his tongue. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Of course Harry, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You stood up straight when you saw that Harry had adjusted his own posture. He was avoiding your gaze now, looking to the spoon in his hand he was twirling while he tried to find his voice. You didn’t pressure him, you both just stood in silence.

“I’m very lucky to have had you walk into my classroom. I instantly fell in love with your daughter and I instantly fell in love with you too.” He was still avoiding your gaze but if he were to look up, he would see that your eyes have glossed and your lip is trembling, the way Layla’s does when she is trying to hold back her tears.

“I’ve known for an embarrassingly long time how I have truly felt about you but what we have is so good and I couldn’t bear to not have Layla in my life, couldn’t bear to lose you. I- Today was amazing and made me realize that it would kill me if I don’t tell you that I am completely and utterly, madly in love with you.”

Harry decided that it’s now or never to look at you, and you looked so beautiful in this moment as you do every time Harry looks at you. You may be in oversized and stained pajamas, your cheeks may be wet and flush and your lips bruised and trembling, but you are as beautiful as you are every day that Harry is graced with your presence.

You now try to find your words but you choke out a sob. Harry quickly wraps you into his arms and kisses the top of your head, holding you close. You finally catch your breath and look up to him.

“I always knew there was something there but I was too scared to find out.”

Harry wiped your cheeks with his thumbs, holding your face in his palms. “Can I kiss you, Y/N?”

You gave him the nod he was wishing for and he slowly leaned in as he pulled you closer. He was gentle in his movements, not wanting to scare you away from this moment. He planted his lips softly against yours, slowly moving so that he could incase your lower lip between his, softly sucking it between his lips. He moved closer so that your bodies were pressed together and he lowered his right hand from your cheek to your waist and his left hand to the back of your head, his fingers weaving into the hair pulled up into the bun on top of your head. He gently let his tongue graze your bottom lip before he pulled you closer and licked again with more fervor.

Your mouth opened more to let him in, just as you were opening yourself more to let him into your heart. Your hands reached out to grip at the sweater on his chest as you finally let go and let your tongue meet his. This move gives Harry the confidence and reassurance he needs as he fully licks into you to massage your tongue with his as he presses his hips to yours, pushing your lower back to the counter.

He pulls away breathless as he lays his forehead on yours, kissing your nose and rubbing the back of your head with his thumb. He goes back in to kiss you more, lifting you by your thighs to wrap around him. He carefully carries you to your room, gently laying you down on the bed as he starts to kiss down your neck, his hands massaging your thighs that are still wrapped around him. Harry pulls his sweater over his head and before you get the chance to admire him, his lips are pressed to yours. His fingers graze the waistband of your bottoms and he starts to pull them down, his soft and warm palms caressing the bare flesh of your thighs.

Harry continues to kiss the skin of your neck as you swallow down the lump that is forming in the base of your throat as you think about the next morning. “Harry, what if this changes everything?”

“Everything’s still the same, nothing changes. Except now, I get to hold you, and kiss you, and show you much I love you.”

You let out a sigh of relief as the tears begin to form that you try to blink away. Harry’s face is again level with yours, kissing your cheek. “Will you let me show you how much I love you?”

Your lip trembles as you tell him yes, never feeling loved before this moment. Harry gently kissed you and he reached for the hem of your shirt. He pulled it over your head, exposing your sports bra and he leaned on his hunches to finish pulling your bottoms off. Harry took his time, kissing every inch of you. Your stretch marks from carrying Layla, your stubbly thighs because you didn’t have time to shave your legs fully this morning, your freckles and scars. Harry truly loved every inch of you, and you could feel it.

“Can I take these off, love?” Harry’s fingers were tucked into your cotton panties when you gave him a nod. You were nervous because it had been longer than you would like to admit since you have been intimate with someone. Harry slowly peeled them down your legs, kissing a trail behind.

“Harry… it’s been a long time…”

“It’s okay, I’ll take my time with you.” He kissed your ankle as he dropped your panties to the side of the bed. “Can I start by touching you?” You nod again and you lean up to pull off your sports bra and adjust the pillow behind your head. Harry still sat on his knees between your legs to admire you. “Do you have any lube? I don’t want to hurt you or make it uncomfortable for you.”

You give him a shy smile before leaning to your side table, appreciating him for being so kind and gentle. You hand him the bottle and he pops the cap open, spreading some along his fingers as well as dripping some on your center. He placed the bottle by his leg, just in case he doesn’t have enough.

“Talk to me, okay? Let me know if it’s too much or not enough. Tell me what you need.”

“I will.” He smiled before leaning down to kiss you, hovering over you as he started to run his pointer and middle finger through your folds. You gasp at the coldness but quickly relax when you feel Harry’s fingers explore you more; spreading you open, pinching a lip or your clit between his fingers. He gave you one last lick into your mouth before leaning back again.

You opened your thighs more to accommodate him as he watched his own fingers explore you. You watched his brow furrow and he occasionally licked his lip. Your breath hitched when you felt his middle finger slowly dip in you.

“This okay?”

“Yes.” Your hips flex up involuntarily to meet Harry’s finger that he is slowly dipping and pulling out of you. His thumb slowly started rolling over your clit and you let out your first moan. It was soft, but present enough for Harry to speed up his movements a little bit, earning a louder moan from you.

“You like that baby?” Harry slowly pulled out his middle finger so that he could slide his middle and ring finger in together, giving you the stretch to need. When he got to the base of his fingers, your back arched and Harry began his come hither motion on your walls, reaching further to hit the soft sponge that you needed him to find.

“Harry, right there!” He added a little more pressure to your gspot before returning to his massaging gesture, using his other hand to figure eight your clit with his thumb. You could feel yourself on the brink of the tip over but you needed something, you just weren’t sure what it was but Harry seemed to know.

He leaned down to kiss you fully again, the pressure of his body on you caused his thumb to add more pressure to your bud and his fingers to plunge a little deeper, causing the rush to flow over you and the tingles to start in your fingers and toes. You moaned into his mouth as he continued to kiss you to keep you quiet but you pulled away to catch a breath, panting into his shoulder as he kissed your neck.

Harry began to slow his movements, pulling his hands away to massage at your thighs as he continued to kiss your neck down to your chest. You could feel him straining in his trousers on your core as he laid on you.

“Was that okay?” He continued to kiss your chest, licking your left nipple into his mouth, sucking gently and flicking the tip of his tongue across it. You rolled your hips into him, feeling the vibrations from his moan into the flesh of your breast.

“It was great, thank you.” Your hand was combing through his hair as he moved to your right breast.

“Can I make love to you?” He looked up at you, watching your soft, blissed out face turn into a gentle smile.

“I would love to make love with you, Harry.” He leaned up again to kiss you before standing to pull off his trousers. He reached for the nightstand to grab a condom, putting it on and adding some extra lube before setting the bottle aside.

“Let me know if you need me to stop or anything.” He kissed your forehead, your closed eyes, each cheek, then your nose before landing on your lips. He lined himself up to your core, all while kissing you, before gently pushing into you with a role of his hips.

With each roll and deeper kiss, he sunk deeper into you. You pulled away from the kiss trying to catch a breath, feeling dizzy from being overwhelmed emotionally and physically. Harry continued to slowly thrust into you, barely pulling out before he would roll again. He lifted a knee to lay flush with your thigh, opening you more which caused Harry to pull out more than he intended to push back into you.

You let out a moan and your head tipped back after that particular thrust, causing Harry to remove his face from your neck to look at you and repeat the same motion, over and over again. He could feel how wet you were getting, almost too wet that he was slipping out of you more, causing his thrust to be sloppy and deeper.

He lifted the thigh he had pushed up with his knee up to his shoulder, hovering over you more and looking right down at you. You look up to see Harry’s curls falling over his face, his face and chest flush, your hand moved up to move his hair so you can see him in all his beauty. You leaned up to kiss him, creating a new angle that had you both moaning.

Harry could feel himself coming undone, knowing that he had to get you there first. He let his hand travel to wear your bodies met, rolling your bud under his thumb once again. You sat up on your elbows to keep the angle you both loved as well as to stay close to Harry.

“I’m so close, don’t stop Harry.”

He leaned in to kiss you, mumbling “I love you” against your lips between kisses. “Fuck, I love you so much, Y/N.”

At that confession, your arms gave out so Harry quickly gripped you close with his free arm and rolled his hips against you until he moaned out your name and let his orgasm flood over him. He gently laid you both down, resting his head on your chest as you both embraced and caught your breath.

Harry felt your fingers stop moving in his hair and little snores escape your lips. Harry has seen that sleepy pout on your daughter more times than he could count but seeing it on you has made him the happiest man alive. Harry maneuvers himself so that you are both lying comfortably and he falls asleep with his arms wrapped around you.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

You wake up to find that Harry is not in bed, but all the clothes from last night are now in the hamper and there is a set of fresh clothes at the end of the bed. You can hear little giggles and a few “oops” from the kitchen. You get dressed and make your way down stairs.

Layla turns her head to you when you walk in, beaming with a “morning mama!” Leaning up to give you a kiss.

“Are you stealing chocolate chips again? Some extra sweet kisses this morning!”

Layla giggles as you press your hand a little firmer and longer on Harry’s lower back as you go for the coffee pot. You lean up to give Harry a kiss, noticing that he has been dipping into the chocolate too. Harry quickly went back in for another kiss, sweeter than the chocolate that lingers. You pull away slowly looking into Harry’s sleepy green eyes and wish him a good morning.

“Morning love, banana pancakes?”

“I’d love some.”

#stellarboystyles3years #harry styles fanfictions #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles one shots #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst

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wiypt-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Part 5.

Summary: The morning after the night before, and you’ve no idea what Ransom is going to greet you…

Warnings: Bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is Part 5 to my submission for @Jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 Challenge. Recently my original partner Southerngracela left Tumblr, and as such I’m going it alone based on our notes and planned plot for this series. I hope I do it justice.

READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

Part 4

You woke the next morning, a warm feeling coursing through your body but with a deep ache in your cheek which was laid against a naked pectoral, as you had clearly shifted in your sleep during the night. Your left hand was resting upon a very naked and warm torso with well-defined abs, while a heavy arm draped over your equally naked body; across your shoulder and down your back, a large hand splayed over your hip, fingertips barely grazing the edge of the sheet which settled itself just below pelvic bones.

As you blinked the sleep from your system, your barely conscious mind began to register exactly who you were cuddling up to. Your captor, the man who’d abused you and held you hostage for the past few months and you swallowed as your mind flooded with memories of the previous night and everything that had happened to the point of escalation and his return. He returned to you a completely different person, broken almost, a far cry from the stoic, cold asshole persona that he did his best to project to the world and you…well, you’d felt sorry for him.

You saw regret, for the first time ever, etched across his face, behind red, saddened and tired eyes. You were cautious, not forgiving, but cautious. You’d empathised, and moreover, you’d seen a chink in his armour that you’d exploited. Whilst he was in that raw, stripped bare state (both figuratively and metaphorically) you’d seized your chance. You’d taken the upper hand.

And now, you were struggling to comprehend exactly how you felt about it.

Despite the ache in your cheek and pain in your knee, your heart waged a war against the reality of your situation. For the first time in two, nearly three months, you felt differently towards him and that scared you. No, it terrified you. Had Ransom just been hiding behind his pain and fear, putting forth the beast before the man?

The memory of how he made you feel the previous night flooded behind your fluttering eyes and you felt a stir within, as if your feminine nature craved him unlike before. But your mind kept saying now, stay logical. Don't be part of the hunt, be part of the chase. But really, what were you chasing? You didn't know.

As if to curb that craving, you stretched out like a cat finding its patch of sunlight on the floor. And almost as if he reacted to your movement, he gave one of his own, his back arching a little as he jostled you on his chest, a deep sigh leaving his system as he gave a low rumble of contentment.

"Morning," you heard him speak above your ear. His voice was deep and raspy, sleep riddled. It made your stomach flutter and your thighs instinctively clench.

You sat up in bed, pulling the sheet up your body to cover yourself a bit more. Then you turned towards Ransom, your better cheek facing him. "Hi," you spoke softly.

"C'mere," he said, gently reaching for your forearm to pull you back into him.

You were stopped short of completely covering him, your hair falling over your left side and as he tucked the obstructing strand behind your ear, his thumb caught your cheek and you hissed. He noticed it immediately and his eyes grew sorrowful. He pulled you to his lips, kissing you softly, slowly before he pulled away and sat up, kicking his legs over the side of the bed and standing, his naked body on display.

You weren't in denial of the Adonis before you, but underneath the God-like physique and piercing blue eyes, still lurked a Demon waiting for his next opportunity to seize his moment. He turned to you and leaned on his hands, palms flat, against the mattress.

"I'll be right back," he said softly, as he leaned in again for a gentle kiss before slipping into his boxers and leaving you.

Ransom headed upstairs, taking two steps at a time emerging into the airy, well-lit hallway. He strode purposefully into the kitchen, running one hand through his sleep mussed hair, yawning slightly as he scratched at his bare chest with the other before he reached down to the front of his expensive boxers and rearranged the crotch of the fabric to make it slightly more comfortable.

The night he'd had was nothing short of amazing, mind blowing even. In fact, he'd go as far as to say like no other, how he felt, how he'd made her feel, hearing her call out his name more than once. But nothing, nothing was like the sound of his name across her lips for the first time. He felt his chest swell at even the slightest flicker of a memory, his skin blushing.

But now, outside of his general reason for coming up to the main part of the house, Ransom was confused, unsure and uncharacteristically nervous. Riddled with guilt, he sought out ice and the first aid kit.

He headed to his bathroom upstairs and collected the items he needed; rubbing alcohol, swabs and bandages. Then he headed down and into the kitchen, bare feet making their way across the cold floor. He took a dish towel and pulled some cubes from the freezer and twisted the ends together, creating a pouch. Then with the items in hand, he headed back to Y/N.

It didn't go amiss that she hadn't moved from the exact spot he'd left her in minutes ago. He took note of her watching every move he made, each step he took, the twitches of his muscular frame and stare of his eyes. Her eyes watched him, suspicion reflecting in her stare. He sighed."You still don't trust me, Sweetheart?"

"I don't know." She whispered hesitantly. "It's.... complicated."

There it was again, her doubt in him. He looked her over and even in the dull light of the room, he could see the destruction on her face. The way the discoloring of her skin filtrated from her defined and now split cheek bone to her stunning eye, marking her for what he could assume would be a good couple of weeks. The split skin had started to scab but was no doubt painful and puffy even under the bruising. It looked angry and tender. Pain and regret filled his eyes as he felt them mist slightly. Leaning closer as he stood by the side of the bed, his thumb traced over the broken skin gently as if by touch he'd heal her.

“Yeah, I suppose it is." He dropped down onto the bed next to her and handed over the ice pack. "Here..."

"Thank you," she winced as she held the ice to her cheek, sitting with her left leg covered and the sheet pulled up to her chest.

He looked her over, looking for anything else amiss. Then he saw the scrape across her right knee. Her exposed leg was bent there at the joint. Ransom gently took her ankle and pulled her close, propping the leg over his thighs.

"I'm sorry I hurt you," he whispered, looking at the scrape and applying an alcohol swap. She hissed at the way it burned and Ransom's first instinct was to gently blow on the stinging skin.

"Are we just talking about yesterday?"

He stopped the gentle blowing and sighed, dropping his head a little. "Does it matter?”

"Not really, it's not like I'm going to go anywhere either way, is it, Ransom?" She swallowed.

She called him by his name again, sending chills and flutters through him like a school boy with a hard crush. He swallowed hard and took her wrist holding the ice, "let me see."

She obliged, letting him pull her hand away as his other reached up and tilted her face round. She blinked a little, her eyes not leaving his face as he took a deep breath and his hand dropped down to the bed. He nodded at the ice. "Put that back on, it'll help with the swelling."

"Okay," she agreed, doing as he asked. They were in a limbo of sorts. He didn't know what to do, but he felt an unfamiliar, unnerving desperate need to be with her.

And the silence was nerve wracking.

The ice began dripping into your hand and trailing down your forearm. You pulled the pack away and handed it back to Ransom. "I... I need to shower, just take a few minutes to uh, freshen up.”

Ransom nodded, his fingers gently brushing yours as he took the pack off you. "Sure” He nodded. “I’ll be in the kitchen, come up when you’re ready.”

“Okay.” You agreed, with a single nod of your head.

Easing your legs out of the sheets you stood up, your limbs feeling a little stiff from the previous evening’s activities and you could feel his eyes on you as you walked into the bathroom, no doubt taking in how your backside looked. The remnants of the night before were still strewn about the tiled floor, and you sighed before you turned on the shower.

As the water warmed, you gathered yourself to gaze at your reflection. Surely your cheek was worse off than the night before. And a glance confirmed it were. A deep bruising shade of purple was working its way from your cheek bone to just under your eyes, a scab where the skin had broken had formed. You didn't want to see anymore. You climbed into the shower and allowed the heat of the water to relax your sore muscles.

You ached in a way that you hadn't in a long while. The way you knew you could after all nerves fired in pleasure and tingled your skin. Last night was interesting to say the least. It was the first time you felt anything outside of deep, gnawing despair. It was obvious that Ransom thought he had won, that you had given in. You had control of the situation nearly from the start, and it had felt good, so, so good. He'd called you baby and it made you shudder in... delight, so much so you’d called him Ransom, breathlessly moaning it as a pleasure coursed through you that you didn't try to stop or deny.

You didn't protest, you didn't fight back. You’d wanted it. And then, that warm feeling of him letting go inside you, filling you, and the look on his face as he did so, well you were shivering at the thought.

The question was, now what? Where do you go from here? You weren't stupid, freedom wasn't an option. But, there could be a bit more for you to work with. Nodding to yourself, knowing how to at least start, you shampooed your hair, inhaling and getting lost in its scent. Autopilot kicked in and you finished your shower, eventually stepping back into your room, wrapped in a towel.

You sorted through your wardrobe, deciding on a pair of dark washed jeans, one could say fit like a glove over your legs and hips, drawing your body in sharp curves and lines, pairing it with a black satin camisole and burgundy cardigan. You toweled your hair off more, collecting the remaining heavy water droplets in the terrycloth fabric and went to hang it back up on the hook in the bathroom. You noticed Ransom's clothes and items from the night before were gone from where they were discarded and no other remnant of him remained other than the distinct smell of him on your sheets and throughout your bed. Taking a look in the mirror, you replaced the butterfly closure bandaid on your cheek and dabbed some face cream gently around your bruise. You sorted your hair, brushing through it but leaving it to dry on its own, a hair tie now on your wrist in case you needed it. You took your time getting dressed and cleaned up, tossing your sheets around to make your bed and tidy up. It was obvious you were making him wait, and that was okay with you. You didn't know exactly what awaited you in the kitchen, which Ransom you'd get, but so far, the version of the man that took you seemed to remain far behind.

After accepting you’d stalled as much as you could, you took a deep breath and headed up the stairs emerging into the well-lit, yet cold hallway and made your way through to the large kitchen. Ransom turned from where he had been filling up the coffee machine and his gaze flicked over your appearance before he met your eyes and his mouth twitched up at one side into a small, yet noticeable smile.

"What can I make you?" You asked softly, treading unevenly in your thoughts as they echoed in word around the room.

“Nothing.” He shook his head, “Come, sit.” He was now dressed, casually in a Henley and casual pants. His hair tossed back and from where you stood you could smell that distinct smell he had even over the freshly brewing coffee. You pulled at the sleeves of your cardigan as you stepped one bare foot in front of the other to take your seat at the breakfast table as directed.

Ransom placed a mug of coffee down in front of you, which you thanked him for, and he took a seat at the table, as you took a sip of your drink. A silence fell over the room, and as you watched him in the corner of your eye you could see his fingers flexing round his mug.

But he was the one that broke the stalemate, clearing his throat slightly as he shifted in his seat. "I thought, maybe, we could order in?" He offered. "I... I can call the bakery that does the almond croissants you've come to like? Or if you'd prefer breakfast sandwiches I can get those?"

The words came as a nervous ramble from him, and you could tell he had no idea how to navigate this new situation you both found yourselves in any more than you did. You quickly realized that Ransom Drysdale didn't know how to navigate "the morning after".

“I, errr…" You began to speak and he shook his head.

“You don’t want those? Okay, that’s…”

“No, I mean, yes, I mean…” You took a deep breath before you licked your lips. “I'm just not hungry for breakfast, that is but maybe... maybe we could get Thai or something tonight? Or, if you'd prefer something else, like if you want me to make something, I...."

"We can do Thai. There's a small place not far from here, great food. What do you like?"

"I'm not picky."

"That's not what I asked." He looked at you with a glint of happy in his eyes. "What would you choose?"

"Coconut prawns, beef satay, chicken curry," You replied with a soft, hopeful smile, the feeling of happiness at the possibility you were going to get a treat, do something so normal, made your chest feel as warm as the time he’d returned your personal belongings, or the day the tree was delivered.

"Consider it done."

"Do you think I could maybe have a beer or a glass of wine with it?"

"Anything in this house is yours if you want it." He looked at you and your mind was suddenly taken right back to that moment in his study weeks ago, the day Blanc had paid you a visit.

“You know, it could all be yours, Sweetheart, if you just stopped fighting what you know you want.”

Had you stopped fighting? Or had you just merely taken control of a vulnerable situation? Is this what you wanted? You had to just sit in the silence for a second. This whole scenario was quickly becoming a kaleidoscope of feelings and you weren't sure where to start.

"You said anything, right? I'd assume that's within reason."

His eyes narrowed for a moment and he leaned forward on his elbows. "Anything, within reason."

You started to move your lips to ask of what you wanted but you stopped yourself, suddenly embarrassed at the thought. Ransom saw this and glided a warm hand across the table to run a finger over your thumb down to your wrist. "Tell me," he coaxed. His tone and look made your insides twist in two different directions, one in fear and the other in delight. It was a confusing juxtaposition at best.

"I want to go outside. I want to feel the sun on my face, breath in the cold winter air." You had hoped the misting of your eyes wasn't visible nor the hope in your words.

"I'll think about it," he replied after a small pause.

"Okay," you shrugged. It wasn't an outright no. Silence filled the kitchen again, neither of sure what to do or say and finally you stood to get more coffee and when you turned to face him, to offer him a top off, you were startled to find him right behind you.

In your start you have a gasp and warm hands cupped your face. Your heart raced through your chest. It was damn near impossible to read him. Soft lips touched yours. "I have some work to do in the study," he spoke softly.

"Sure." You nodded, your eyes locked onto his as he stepped back slightly. "Do you want me to be there with you or..."

"I have a better idea," well that worried you. What'd he want? A blow job under the desk? "I want you to gather your stuff, you're not staying down there anymore."

"So where do I go?" You tried not to sound too hopeful, as if he'd set you free that easily. Nor were you even sure you wanted to go.

"Upstairs, with me." He stated matter of factly. "Come on, I'll show you. I'll move your clothes up later, but for now, after I show you around, get everything else you want or need, whatever."

“Do I get a say in all this?” You blurted it out before you could stop yourself and swallowed, waiting for his anger to brew but it didn’t. Instead he simply raised his eyebrow at you.

“Do you wanna stay down there?” He asked.

“No, but-“

“Good, then we’re agreed.”

You opened and closed your mouth like a fish to protest but couldn’t think of what to say, not that it mattered anyway, it wasn’t like you had a choice. Not really. You followed him up the stairs and onto the expansive second floor. It seemed to be sectioned off into a handful of bedrooms and a couple of bathrooms. Ransom took great delight in showing you grandiose room after grandiose room, and to be honest you found it all a little ostentatious, why would he need all that room for just him. Well, him and you as it transpired… And he saved the ‘best for last’, according to him anyway, as he pushed open the heavy door into his room. Instantly you were hit with the familiar smell of his woody aftershave and you took a deep breath as you looked around.

Your eyes took in the space, the four post bed, the ornately shaped windows that were nearly floor to ceiling. There was a fireplace and above it, over the mantle, a mirror. The entire room was decorated in neutral whites and creams, with a touch of grey on the detailing in the alcoves and around the fireplace, a pale blue and white striped bed spread and matching pillow covers adorned the bed. It screamed Ransom to you, from floor to ceiling. Whilst the rest of the house wasn’t what you would class as warm, this was even less so. It was very open, very.... manly and stiff, a woman's touch never evident. Your eyes strayed upwards, half expecting to see a mirror on the ceiling, but to your relief there wasn’t one.

"What do you think?" He asked, his breath hot on your neck, and from the tone of his voice you could tell he was seeking approval. He was openly showing you around, almost as if he was trying to tell you this wasn’t his typical ‘fuck and duck’ scenario. He was taking his time with it, and half of you felt relieved, the other, well, trapped.

"It's very different than downstairs, or my room even." You chose your words carefully as a strong palm in the base of your spine guided you through the doorway.

“Is that a good thing?” He asked, turning to look at you, brushing a hand through his messy hair.

You pop a shoulder, not knowing exactly what to say. He guided you through to the en suite and you felt your eyes grow wide as you took in the space. The floor was a grey and speckled marble which made you nervous immediately about the potential of slipping when wet. Mood lighting was set into the entire space, skirting around the edge of the flooring, shining up the granite tiles that lined the walls, except for the wall on the inside of the huge shower cubicle to your left, which sported the same tiles, only a gloss white. The whole thing was set off by a large chrome waterfall shower that was easily big enough for two people, maybe three, with immaculately clean glass doors and sides. Along the far wall was an enormous ornate tub, the sides so high there was a small step into them, and to the right stood two chrome basins fed by matching fancy mixer taps, all perched on top of a sleek, white marble unit with frosted glass cupboard doors underneath, and another large mirror over the basin unit, which was illuminated by bright LED lights.

"The sink to the left is yours, anything you want can be stored in the cabinet there, it's empty. So are the drawers on the side." He explained, leaning against his side of the sink basin.

"Erm, thanks." You nodded, your eyes flicking to where he'd directed your attention before you looked back at him, your fingers tugging on the sleeves of your cardigan as you licked your lips. There wasn't a spot of dirt, a single water mark or anything anywhere and before you could stop yourself you blurted out what was on your mind. "How the fuck do you keep this so clean? It would drive me mental even trying to polish the taps!"

It was his turn to pop his shoulder in such a blasé fashion, "the maid comes three times a week".

“You have a maid?” You asked, and even as you spoke you weren’t sure why it came as a surprise. Of course he had a maid. Not that you’d seen her, you were always responsible for cleaning your own space, but then of course you would be…

"Now, like I said," he pushed off the basin with his hips and stepped into your space, "I have some work to do. Move what you can up here and sort it all out. I'll be in the study if you need me."

"What I can?" You looked up at him. "Where should I put my clothes?"

"I told you, I'd take care of that later for you. Move the small stuff."

“Okay.”

With a satisfied nod, his hands gently dropped to your hips and he pulled your body flush to his, his lips meeting yours in a soft kiss. Without another word, he pulled away, turned and left you standing there, your mind trying to figure out exactly what was happening. With a deep sigh, you headed to your space. It didn't take more than two trips for you to bring up all you had and when you'd finished putting it away you sat down on the bed, your feet dangling over the edge.

Your palms felt the soft, cotton bedspread and you glanced at your small, leather bag which contained your few books and your journal. Not sure what side of the bed was yours, you didn’t know which nightstand to place them on so you decided to leave them where they were for the time being.

Which nightstand was yours…

You shook your head, letting out a sigh. This was all kinds of fucked up. You’d gone from his captor to his cohabiter, sharing a room like a couple who love and want to be with each other. You felt the tears stinging your eyes and with a soft sniff you moved and curled up in the middle of the bed, tucking your knees into your chest. You lay still, the strange room silent around you, and before long your eyes grew heavy as you thought to yourself, it is what it is. You just needed to concentrate on keeping things as they are now, as this Ransom was certainly a damned sight preferable to Asshole Hugh.

***** When you stirred from your nap, immediately you felt something was different and you moved your arm, realising that you were under the covers. As you blinked you sat up, the heavy eiderdown duvet falling down your body and you realised that Ransom must have been up and tucked you in. As your sights came to you, you noticed you were on the left side of the bed, looking out, your things had been properly stowed on the nightstand next to you.

Curiosity pecked at your sleepy mind and you slowly came out of bed and padded over to the walk in closet. Sure enough, you saw your things hung and organized neatly across the space from his own. You couldn't resist your next move, your fingers trailing over the sweaters and garments hanging on his side, your tips curling over the camel colored coat you'd come to know so well. Tattered sweaters and crisp button downs hung impeccably straight on their velvet and wooden hangers, shoes, some well-worn and others not, paired and stacked in the organizer where they belonged.

It was a far cry from your old, small wardrobe in your apartment which was cramped full, things jumbled and piled all over the place, not to mention the constant pile of ironing you kept in the corner of your room, which you never seemed to manage to reach the bottom of.

Your stomach grumbled and you found yourself hungrier than when you'd fallen into bed. Now, you seemed famished. You left the master and headed down to see if you could find your newly minted cohabitant. As you walked, you noticed for the first time that there were no photos of anything or anyone, anywhere. The odd piece of art, no doubt ludicrously expensive, hung along the walls in a few spaces but other than that, nothing. No personal touches, no family photos, absolutely nothing.

Again, not surprising given his relationship with his family. And you doubt he had any friends, none beyond acquaintances anyway.

As you reached the final steps, you could hear furious typing on keys and realized Ransom was still in the study. You made your way there and as you stood in the doorway, you waited for him to take notice.

“You gonna stand there all day or come in, Sweetheart?” He drawled, not even looking up from the sleek screen on his desk.

You came in, twisting your cardigan over your midsection and rubbing your arms. You walked over to the window and looked out. "It looks cold out there, beautiful, but cold."

You hesitated about thanking him for what he'd obviously done while you napped. But after a pause, you said it anyway. "Thank you... For getting my things."

"I told you I would so I did, you're welcome." He murmured, his attention still on his work. You glanced outside again, your eyes flicking to the light snow fall as it drifted down from the sky, settling down and melting into the ample, powder soft covering on the ground.

Ransom flicked his eyes toward the window and saw her staring out over the large grounds. He'd been furiously working away, trying to fix his current storyline for hours but parts still didn't feel right. He'd taken a break and taken Y/N's clothes upstairs, only to find her sound asleep in his, no, their bed. He'd hung up her clothes and tucked her in before retreating back into the study which brought him to now. A strange idea occurred to him, so he shut down his screen, stood and walked behind her. His eyes caught hers in the reflection of the window.

"I want to show you something," he said softly as his hands again found her hips, his lips pressed into that spot on her neck he knew she loved. Her eyes looked into his from over her shoulder and she replied with a small nod.

He took her to the back door, the one that led out into the garden and opened the closet door beside it. Inside were coats and boots. He grabbed a pair, creepily in her size, and a peacoat. A scarf of beige wool hung on a hook and he wrapped it around her neck before helping her into the coat. He waited for her to dip her feet into the boots and slipped into his own short, thick coat. Her eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement as he gripped the knob and pulled the door towards them.

"After you," he offered.

Her mouth went slack a little and her eyes stared at him now wide. The more she stared, the more his chest tightened and made the intimate moment grow uncomfortable for him. Ransom lightly scoffed and rolled his eyes, "Are you going to go out or not?"

He immediately regretted his outburst as her eyes averted from his down to the floor and she nodded. "Yes," she replied meekly. “I’m sorry.”

With one foot in front of the other, he followed her as she stepped outside. Immediately, the falling snow began to cling to the wisps of her hair and the shoulders of her coat. He imagined he looked just the same. He watched as she tipped her head back, raising her face to the snow as it fell, flakes clinging to her eyelashes as a huge smile crept across her pretty features. Then, he saw the way her shoulders began to shake as hot tears leaked from her eyes. But she was still grinning, her tongue popping out if her soft lips to catch the flakes of falling snow.

Ransom had read countless stories, heard many tales about people experiencing what they called a revelation, a sudden awakening to something emotional which you couldn’t control, and he’d scoffed. It was alien to him, not being able to regulate how you feel, but that was exactly what had happened to him yesterday, and it was happening again, but not because he was feeling those things, but because Y/N was. She wasn't crying because she was sad or scared, she was crying because she was experiencing the moment. And right there and then, he understood. You can’t control or make someone truly want anything. Sure, you could bully and coerce, but to truly make them feel it, that wasn’t possible.

A cold, wet feeling brought him out of his thoughts and he'd realized he was covered in snow, pieces of it dripping from his head, down the break in his coat and through his sweater. He gave a small yell of annoyance, looking up as he realised a large glob had dropped off the edge of the guttering straight onto his head.

A melodic sound quickly hit his ears and he realized Y/N was laughing, full body titled giggles at his expense. His nostrils flared a little as she continued, and then, in a movement that was almost automatic, he bent down and scooped a handful up snow at his feet and slapped it straight into her chest, his eyebrow raised.

Challenge issued, sweetheart.

She gasped and he couldn't deny the chill it gave him deep in his loins. He loved that sound. But soon that smug smirk on his face was wiped clean as Y/N flung a handful of snow right back in his direction sending her scampering across the garden.

"Oh, Sweetheart." His voice was low as he bent to scoop up more of the icy, cold snow. "You have no idea what you just started."

From there the chase was on, ducking and running for cover as he chased her and when he finally caught up to her, she was falling away from his grasp and into the deep snow at their feet, his body falling over hers. Ransom looked down at her, his hair falling over his forehead, chest heaving as she reached up and brushed the strand back, her hand cold as it fell to his cheek.

"Ransom," she purred, "you can smile.”

It was a point not a request. His chest tightened at the way she gazed at him. The snow continued to fall over them, but neither paid it any attention. His gaze was locked onto hers.

"Oh, what about? The fact I'm freezing cold and soaked when I could be inside, dry and warm by the fire?" He recovered with a tease, and she rolled her eyes, letting out a soft huff.

"It's almost Christmas, and it’s snowing." She looked at him, "what isn't there to love about that?"

He faked a puzzled look for a moment and then found a chuckle rising up from his chest as her other hand rested there against his coat. "This is probably this first Christmas I ever cared about." He admitted freely.

She frowned as she looked at him, before she shook her head. "That's really sad, Ransom."

"I don't want pity..."

"No, that's not..." She took a deep breath and licked her lips. "That's not what that was. I was just stating a fact, that’s all."

He began to stand and pull her with him. "Let's go inside. I'm freezing my ass off."

Their moment was over and he started back into the house, Y/N following him, albeit at a slightly slower pace, clearly not as willing as he was to leave the outside space. And he supposed he couldn’t blame her all things considered, even if it was alien to him.

He shucked his coat off and then helped her with hers, "I'm going to order dinner."

"Okay, thank you." She nodded as she followed him back through the kitchen and into the warm study.

The two of you sat around the study, him going back to work on his book and you reading a book you pulled from the shelves around the room, sipping your respective beers together after Ransom had offered you one upon one of his many breaks in typing. The sound of the doorbell rang through the house and Ransom picked up his phone. He glanced at the screen before he stood up, and before he could say anything you spoke.

“Is that our food?” Your tone was hopeful, revealing your excitement and he looked at you, the smile on his face mirroring yours.

“Yeah.” He ran his hand through his hair, brushing the strands off his forehead. “Do you wanna go to the kitchen and-“

“No.” You said quickly and he arched his brow at you, puzzled and you swallowed. “I mean, if it’s okay with you, I’d kinda like to sit by the fire. It’s what I norm-“ you paused, your eyes dropping to your hands. “It’s what I used to do, sit on the rug, eating out of the box, watching junk TV.”

“Lounge it is, then.” He shrugged. “Saves on the washing up I suppose.”

“Like you’ve ever washed a dish.” You looked at him and he snorted.

“Like I said before, the help only comes three times a week, Y/N. I don’t leave the dishes stacked up in between, what do you take me for?”

“You have a dishwasher.”

“Okay, so it saves on the loading of the machine.” He rolled his eyes, turning to the door. “Go grab whatever we need from the kitchen, and another drink. That last beer didn’t touch the sides.”

You did as you were told, your bare feet walking over the cold tiles of the hallway as Ransom paid the delivery driver on the doorstep. You grabbed a selection of cutlery, another bottle of his pretentious European beer, reaching for one for yourself when you paused. There was a bottle of Sancerre sat nestled in the cooler that was a damned good label, you’d had it once before with your parents. Hesitating, you bit your lip. You’d been drinking beer so far but…now, well, you really wanted a glass of that white. After a moment or two of grappling with whether or not it was allowed, you shook your head. Fuck it, the worst that could happen already had…

You managed to juggled your drinks and cutlery in your hands, years of practice had made you an expert at making the least amount of trips to your own kitchen and back, and you walked into the lounge where Ransom had set the boxes on the oak coffee table and you placed the bottle of beer down first, then the cutlery before you set your wine down.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I didn’t fancy more beer and-“

“I told you.” He looked at you, shaking his head. “Whatever you want.”

He passed you a box and you dug in, eagerly. The first bite of satay hit your taste buds and you hummed in deep delight at the way it tasted.

"It's been so long since I've had anything Thai. This, you were right, this is so good."

"Good," he smirked, tilting his beer back and taking a long swallow.

You smiled at him, your words echoing in your head. Take-Outs had been common in your life before, well, before all this. Working stupid hours at the Newspaper often saw you visiting various places on the way home, or having it delivered to the office. But as you sat there, taking bite after bite, you vowed never to take it for granted again.

Taking a respite from your eating, you reached for your wine and took a sip, the crisp taste hitting your buds once more, making you smile in delight. You replaced your glass and watched as Ransom tucked into his food, his eyes focussed on the box he held in his large hand.

"Thank you," you said after a stretch of silence, the fire crackling in the background.

"For?" He seemed genuinely puzzled.

"Today, the garden," you replied with emotion. "I wasn't expecting you to let me go out like that."

He studied you for a moment, taking another forkful of his food before he swallowed and shrugged. "No big deal, it was only the garden."

"It's not merely just a garden when you haven't seen outside for days on end." You mimicked his shoulder pop, “and my parents always taught me to thank someone when they’ve done something you’re grateful for.” You dug back into your take out box and heard him let out a sigh.

“And mine didn’t, yes, I get it Y/N.”

“No, that’s not…” You swallowed your food and shook your head. “That wasn’t what I was implying.”

“Huh.” He raised an eyebrow, his attention moving back from you to another box which was on the table. Pulling out a coconut prawn he thrust the box in your direction as he swallowed his morsel in one easy bite. “Can’t say I’d blame you if it was.”

You watched him, once more silence falling across the room, the glow of the fire which burned in the hearth illuminating one side of his face and his gaze turned to it, his eyes following the dancing flames.

“Harlan taught me how to build a fire.” He suddenly spoke, and you watched as a smile flicked across his face. “There’s a huge stone hearth in the drawing room of his…well, what was his house. I used to toast bread on tongues, sat in front of it, wrapped in towel after a bath.” He paused, before he scratched at his nose. “Nanna would then butter it and I’d eat it in front of the fire, with a mug of cocoa and I remember always thinking it was the best thing I ever ate. Still is, shits all over this.” He gestured to the array of boxes biting his lip a little, clearly lost in the memory. You stayed still, watching, trying to stop the surprise you were feeling at his sudden openness spread across your face. He shrugged, taking another bite of his food. “Then she died. It was never the same after that. The house never felt right, you know?”

He reached for his beer, taking another long gulp before he shrugged. “Funny really, when I think about it. It was always my grandparents, they were the ones who taught me my minimal life skills. Fishing, pitching tents…”

“You, camping?” You arched a brow, trying to lighten the mood and it worked. He snorted and turned to look at you nodding.

“As a kid I loved being outside. Harlan’s estate was a huge, big playground.” He smiled again. “And on the rainy days when I couldn’t be outside, I used to spend hours with Nanna Wannetta, learning how to play ‘Go’, the goal always being to beat Harlan. When I finally managed it, it was the best thing in the world, that I’d achieved something.”

"Do you remember Christmas with her, your Nanna I mean? What’d she make?" You were eager to keep him talking, getting an insight into what made him tick on a more emotional sense was something you hadn’t been party to much. Sure, you’d figured out how to get a reaction out of him on an angry, primal sense, how his narcissistic nature worked, but this was an in-depth dive into his psyche, perhaps a way to unravel the enigma surrounding him, how he could flip between being someone you could actually like and understand, to the monster you’d seen on many an occasion.

Ransom paused for a moment. “I can’t really remember many, I was only nine when she died but she always did a roast, with potatoes, green vegetables, rolls.” He smiled. ”And pie. Apple. Always apples from the orchard. We’d pick them in the autumn and she’d stew them ready, storing them for Thanksgiving and Christmas.”

You thought about what was happening between the two of you, how open and, dare you think it, raw Ransom was being. The last two days had now given you an outright exposed forum to the man that hid behind so much wealth and privilege. A far cry from the man you interviewed.

An idea swung into the forefront of your mind, or two rather. "I know Christmas is so soon but, if I gave you a list of things to gather from the store, do you think you could do it?"

"I suppose," he stated flatly.

"Okay, good," you couldn’t help the soft smile as your plan unfolded. You picked at your food a bit longer, a piece of chicken curry chewing away in your mouth. He watched you and you watched him, a bite to the bottom of your lip when you swallowed under his stare.

His eyes diverted and he rose gracefully to his feet and moved to add fuel to the fire. "Ransom..." You watched him inhale deeply at the sound of his name, clearly still having a deep effect on him. He turned to you, a glint in his eyes, "Will you teach me?"

"What?"

"'Go'. Will teach me to play?"

"You want to learn to play? So you could play with me?" The way he asked you was so innocent and childlike, like he had never considered you willingly to do so.

You giggled, as you looked up at him. "Yes, Ransom, I want you to teach me how to play 'Go' so we can play together."

A genuine, purely innocent and genuine smile crossed his lips, teeth shining and he stepped the two steps away from the fireplace and took to his knees in front of you. His smile faded to a smirk as he leaned towards you, "You should know, I play to win."

"I'd expect no less," you replied.

His brow arched a little and his eyes flickered to your mouth, before he nodded to the container in your hand. "Are you done?"

"Yes, thank you." In a slow movement he plucked the now almost empty takeout box from your hand, placing it on the table as he all but crawled over you, causing you to fall back onto your elbows, hands grasping at the soft shag of the thick rug.

Your breath caught in your chest, your throat going dry. You could feel his hot breath against your face. "R... Rans..."

But your words were stopped short as his lips pulled yours in, a soft sucking and his tongue tipped across your bottom lip.

As the kiss deepened he leaned over you further causing you to lay back completely on the soft rug, his hands planting either side of his head whilst yours gently gripped at his biceps.

A familiar but forgotten feeling pooled between your legs, the feel of his muscles flex and twitch beneath your fingers, igniting your nerves as his tongue danced with yours making you dizzy and breathless.

Soft lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, skating upwards to your ear, finding that spot that never failed to betray you and you gave a soft simper as he lightly nipped at your skin, your sound drawing a low, satisfied sigh from him.

“If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself.” The words came out in a desperate tone as they crossed your ears.

"Do you want to stop yourself?" You whisper, knowing he's never stopped nor wanted to before. He stilled for a moment, pulling back to look at you and for a split second a spike of fear stabbed in your chest but there was nothing on his face bar a blank expression, as if he was grappling with something.

“No, I don’t.” He admitted, a soft sigh rose from his chest as he hung his head and moved away a little.

The encouragement left your lips before your brain processed it, a longstanding habit of yours, "so don't."

It seemed to shock you both and for a second time froze, before he was on you again, his kiss needy and heady. Your fingers curled around to the back of his neck as you scratched at the nape.

His hand started traveling up the underside of your cami, your stomach muscles twitching at his touch. When your knee hooked around his narrow hips, he stopped and sat back in his haunches. "I... Why don’t you go and get ready for bed whilst I clear away this stuff.” He waved his hand to the table.

You licked your kiss swollen lips, and breathlessly nodded, sitting up and then standing on your own two feet before leaving the room, Ransom's back now to you as he stared into the fireplace, palms bracing himself against the mantle.

You left the study, almost in a daze and headed slowly back up the staircase. As you made your way into the bedroom you stopped for a moment, your head turning back to the door. What the fuck just happened? You’d given him the green light and instead of taking you he’d backed off completely.

It as an unnerving turn of events, because despite your little moment an insight into his past before you had no idea what was going on in his head at that point in time. When he was being forceful and angry it was obvious but now, well, it was impossible to get a read on him and if you wanted to keep him on side, that was going to be a problem. Ransom was an enigma wrapped in an unbelievably layered mystery, and you hadn’t even scratched the surface.

*****

As the fire calmed beneath him, and deep inside, Ransom took two deep grounding breaths. This new sense of restraint and self-control fucked with his head, and what was even more frightening was that these were not thought through, these feelings were of instinct. As if a part of himself that he never knew to exist had been pried open in the depths of his soul over the last now forty-eight hours. He was deeply confused, especially now as he had towered over her, near ready to fuck her into the rug by the fire, not only with himself but with her. Twice now she'd given him a green light to do as he wanted with her. The first after he asked to be let in, in a manner of speaking, and just now, inviting him, no, encouraging him on. Then there was still that guilt that he'd tried to stifle back since the rose of their day. That guilt he harbored each time he got a look at that gash on her cheek, knowing damn well he put it there, the bruising growing darker as it started to show past the swelling.

He loathed this guilt within him, for Ransom Drysdale doesn't do guilt. Never cared enough, until now, until her and not until last night.

The world owed him far too much, his arrogance included, but Y/N, she was different. She was safe and safe was something he never felt. He used that same arrogance to posture at every given minute of the day, used it as his defense against all who crossed him, family included. Ransom couldn't remember a time in his life, not since his Nana passed, that he hadn't felt alone and angry, withdrawn purposely and defiantly. A grown man with mommy and daddy issues as Y/N had vehemently spat at him one night, yet she didn't know the half of it. If she hadn't pushed him, made him so angry, he wouldn't have hurt her, ruined her. No, no he wouldn't have.

But Harlan, with Harlan he could be himself, arrogance pinned up against arrogance, he learned so much from his grandfather and all he did was ruin that too.

The thought of Harlan put a sour taste in his mouth as that guilt came back through, twisting his gut and make him balk. It angered him he held such guilt for his life circumstances.

Again taking a deep breath, he gathered the take out remnants and tossed what he had to in the trash and placed the rest in the fridge.

As he made his way back up towards his room, towards her, he stopped at a guest bathroom and splashed cold water across his face. He rinsed the taste of curry and coconut from his tongue and quickly made his way to his room.

He stripped down, fully discarding his clothes to a pile in front of the bed and pulled he covers back, the cool, crisp sheets giving a chill to his skin. He heard the water tap shut off from the bathroom and suddenly he felt his stomach drop at the anticipation of what he wanted next. Would she have changed her mind? Was she no longer going to encourage him to continue with treating her for the night? What the fuck was he doing now? Doubting himself? Doubting how he could show a woman a really good fucking time? Ugh, all these emotional changes and challenges were absolutely exhausting for him. He needed a distraction, yes, a good nice long distraction and the way he'd get it was now walking toward him.

He watched her as she came out of his en suite from his position reclined in his bed, his hands behind his head on the pillow. The deep green silk slip negligee she chose fit in all the right places and as she stepped closer, he took note of the way her hips filled out the satin material, how her pert nipples tented the fabric. His mouth was salivating and he swallowed hard, sitting up as she was at the end of the four post bed, then at his bedside.

"Come here," he said, speaking in a low, gravely tone, seeing her hesitation.

He forced more of himself to sit up to greet her, the clean, soft sheets falling to his hips, his naked chest on full display. His right hand curled around her hip while the other reached for her to pull her towards him. She gasped as her body fell into bed with him, both led out against the cushion of the mattress and pillows. Her legs were settled between his, her chest against his own but what he enjoyed the most was the way her lips fell in time with his. Both his hands cupped her face as he deepened their kiss. Tongue deep into her mouth, tasting the minty remnants of toothpaste. Lips soft against her own as they travelled down her neck to her spot that was just for him to know. He felt her move a little above him, as if she were pulling away. That not being in his plan for the evening, Ransom dropped his left arm to the mattress and used his strength to roll her to her back, his lips never leaving her own, sheets rustling round his legs as he kicked them away.

With one leg between hers, a knee so close to her core, his thigh settling against her mound, he moved her legs apart. Hooded eyes stared back at him and he watched as she visibly swallowed, lost in their moment. His body led over her, Ransom used one hand to prop himself up slightly while the other tantalizingly brushed one of the thin straps of her negligee down. His lips skated over her collar bone and back up her neck, a hot tongue against her spot and she quivered beneath him. The hand that moved the thin strap away from her shoulder glided over the outside of her thigh and under the hem of the sleep slip, skating up the outside of her thigh, up to her bare hip, thumb rubbing over her skin.

He pushed his knee up against her mound making her gasp a little. He didn't care to hide the smirk across his lips as they ghosted over her skin, moving back to hers. He felt her fingers curl around his neck before her hands slipped into the nape of his neck. As his tongue and body began to melt into hers, Ransom pulled the front of her negligee down, exposing her mounded breasts to the room. With his knee, he nudged up against her again and he couldn’t help the moan the escaped his mouth into hers when he felt her grind down against him. He wrenched his lips away from hers, sloppy kisses chaining down her neck, feeling the delicate muscles contract as she swallowed as he moved down, his tongue tracing a path over the swell of her breast before he took a pebbled nipple into his mouth, rolling it ever so softly between his teeth.

The hand that was round her hip gripped tighter against her soft skin, his eyes peeking up at her, her head thrown back against the pillow, eyes closed, mouth hanging open, soft whimpers flowing from her mouth and he pressed his leg further up against her centre, feeling her slick as it spread across his thigh as she rubbed up against him, seeking relief from the friction. Her needy nature was something he hadn’t seen to this extent before and he was hard as hell as she writhed beneath him, her back arching off the bed, pushing her chest upwards and he obliged, his mouth upping the ante around her sensitive nipple.

Again he felt her fingers against the nape of his neck as he nipped and sucked against her nipple, flat and hot tongue at the valley of her breasts. He shifted slightly, intending to turn his attention to her other breast, but the movement jostled his knee further against her and her fingers tightened around his hair as she gave a cry, grinding down on him harder.

“Atta girl, take it. Take what you need.” He all but growled out, his face hovering inches from hers as he watched her face, contorted in pleasure and desire, her eyes screwed shut. “Look at me.” He demanded, and obediently her eyes flew open, those deep orbs he could drown in locked onto his as he stared straight back into them.

“Ransom…” her voice was barely a whisper and once more the sound of his name from her mouth was enough to turn him feral and it took everything he had to keep himself from fucking her senseless. But somehow he did. He pushed his leg up against her as he slanted his mouth to hers, swallowing her moans and cries before he pulled back.

“Cum for me, Baby,” he whispered against her lips and seconds later her back arched and her entire body convulsed, his head shooting back almost painfully at the force with which she pulled on his hair and he groaned deeply as she cried out, tumbling over the edge of pleasure, her thighs gripping his, her pussy literally pulsing against his thigh as she soaked his skin with her orgasm, before she sagged back and lay trembling underneath him.

“I love the sounds you make when you come undone.”

As you came down from your high, you realised that your hands were tugging on his hair and you instantly let go, before you suddenly became aware of the fact that in your lust addled haze you’d basically fucked yourself against his leg. And, as you looked at him, that maddening smirk spread across his face and you knew the bastard was crowing inside at exactly how needy you’d been. How needy he’d made you, and you couldn’t even find it within yourself to be disgusted anymore.

You needed more, more of what he was offering, more of what had just transpired. And the only thing you could think of how to get it was to feel him inside you like he was the night before, how he filled you and gently caressed you. But was he willing to do it? You didn't know, not for sure anyway, for this wasn't the Ransom you had first met. This wasn't the man who tortured you, degraded you. No, this was a man who emerged from a cacoon of hurt, mental degradation, arrogance. This was gentle, so was... markedly different.

"Talk to me." His words startled you from your daze as you felt his gentle knuckle graze down your skin through the valley of your breasts and come to rest a flat palm over your belly.

You swallowed, desperately trying to calm the ocean of conflicting feelings within your brain as you looked down at him, your chest heaving. “I don’t know what to say.” You whispered, eyes not leaving his. The obvious conflict must have been etched across your face as his expression softened more, almost looking sad or worried he'd done the wrong thing. Who the hell was this guy?

“I’m trying.” He whispered softly, the tip of his nose brushing yours in a feather like kiss. “I’m trying to make you trust me.”

"Who are you?" You'd blurted it out before you could filter it, and you felt a faint tug of fear spike through you, but as quick as it had come it went when he leaned over you and pressed his lips softly to yours.

"Let me show you." He was asking once more, not demanding. “Please.”

The two of you were so close, you felt his hot breath on your face. The lump you swallowed hurt going down. All it took was a barely audible "okay." and no sooner had the permission slipped from your mouth, his lips were on yours, the kiss soft yet, deep and needy at the same time.

With one hand now entangled in your hair, the other holding his weight against your side, he positioned himself fully between your legs.

You could feel his tip at your entrance and your body took over, tilting your hips up, telling him just what you wanted, no, what you needed.

A second tilt of your hips met his as he found what he wanted, slipping right in, his lips leaving yours as he let go of a whimpering moan at the feel of your wet opening practically pulling him in. He moved slowly and deliberately, sliding in deeper with each thrust, like ocean waves rolling over the sand shore and back out to sea, his lips back on yours, down the column of your neck, sucking in that spot that made you shudder and back across your jaw and home again on your lips.

Your hands moved to his back, fingers dancing over the muscles which twitched with each gentle, deep rock of his hips, your nails lightly dragging as your hands made their way up to his shoulders where they stopped.

His eyes met yours as he paused his thrusting and you wondered what was passing through that fucking twisted mind of his. Was it an awakening that this was too much for him? Was it that the beast was ready to return? Or was it deep emotion he was struggling with? The calming of the storm inside?

"You're beautiful," he whispered with a blush pinker than his already flushes skin, almost embarrassed to give such a genuine thought out loud.

You leaned up, closing the space between you, your lips to his, accepting his compliment, hiding your own emotion from him. It twisted your gut and muddled your mind, it wakened your heart and flooded your core. Seated inside you, deep now at the angle, you breathed against his ear, "more".

The deep groan from his throat curled your insides as the vibrations from his chest rattled against yours. His hips moved back before they snapped forward, his movement powerful and sure and you gave a gasp as he drove into you, a dirty grind that had you clawing at his skin.

"Fuck, so good," he managed.

As his thrusts continued at their depth, grinding harder, your hands slid upwards into his hair, tightening around the longer strands and his head tipped back, a loud growl ripping from his throat. His lips crashed back to yours, your hands still tangled in his locks and almost curiously you gave another tug.

“Jesus Christ.” His words stuttered, punctuated by a groan against your mouth and he shook his head, his hands reaching for yours in his hair. “Imma lose it if you keep doing that, Sweetheart. And I’m not done with you yet.”

It wasn't a threat like you've heard countless times before, but a promise of what was to come and you shivered, your whole body jolting like you were chilled.

“Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.” His long fingers snaked between yours, strong arms pinned your hands on either side of your head on the pillow. Instantly you felt a flicker of panic and you gasped, moving your arms ever so slightly. But when Ransom didn’t react to your slight motion of resistance and allowed you to take his hands with yours, you realized this wasn’t about restraint. You could move, and moreover, in that instant you fully believed if you asked him to stop he would.

So you stayed where you were until you brought a knee up towards his rolling hips, toes on pointe against the sheets, opening yourself more for him. He gave another grunt of satisfaction, clearly crowing even more at your participation as his hips continued to drive into you over and over, coaxing you ever closer to your high. He was rubbing against that soft spot deep inside you and your cries were struggling to get out of your throat. The fire in your body was raging as you began to feel the flush hitting you.

"Oh... fuck... Ransom, please, I...." Her words were a rushed garble of pleas and he bit his lip, eyes fixed on those deep orbs, fingers tightening around her hands as he fought the familiar warm, tight feeling that was spreading across his abs and groin. His lips crashed back to hers, in a kiss that was deep and sloppy as she moaned loudly into his mouth. He felt her walls squeeze around him tightly, tighter than before. Her inner walls taking him for all he had to give and her outer, pulsing against his tightening sac.

“Fuck, baby...” he panted as she sagged underneath him, her body quivering with sheer pleasure for the second time that night. His hips drove into her, his pace quickening slightly as he neared his own release which hit him seconds later. “Oh, shit...” was all he could stutter as he came, his dick spasming and twitching inside her as he coated her insides, with a surge like nothing he’d felt before, the bliss rising from the very depth of his being and flooding his entire system with a white hot pleasure that consumed him completely.

It felt like it lasted forever, and he was certain his breathing stopped momentarily as he fell forward, his face burrowed into the side of her neck.

“What are you doing to me, Y/N?” a whispered voice croaked from his throat against her ear. She didn’t say anything, she couldn’t, she was still shaking under him. Gathering what little strength he had left he propped himself up on shaky arms, kissing her again before he shifted and pulled out of her, rolling heavily onto his back.

His chest heaved along with hers, his mind foggy and spiked full of serotonin. And when he calmed himself enough, Ransom reached for her hand, entwined her fingers with his and pressed a soft kiss to the back of her hand. Then, with a gentle tug, he pulled her close as he rolled his chest to her back, led against her, his fingers still entwined with hers, his arm against her. He nuzzled into her hair, his chest taking in a deep, shaky breath, doing all her could to mask the emotion seeping out.

You felt him rest his chin on the crown of your head as your body started to lull to sleep from the overload on chemicals and exertion. And as you drifted off to sleep, Ransom’s arm heavy over your waist as his nose nuzzled into the back of your hair you began to question just which one of you was the real captive.

**** Part 6

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