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imthebadguyyy · 3 years ago

Note

Loved your first fic of Lewis!💛

Can you make one where Lewis Hamilton and Y/N have a fight and have been living separately and then Lewis comes to meet Y/N one evening and makes an excuse that his toothbrush is with Y/N? And then Lewis confronts Y/N that he knows Y/N still love him but won't admit?

* I know this is a very specific prompt. Bare with me. I just wanted more Angst/ Fluff with Longing for each other and Deep feelings and keep it Non-explicit. *

A/N - I'm so glad you liked the fic 😊

We're Meant To Be

Pairing - Lewis Hamilton x Reader (female)

Fandom - F1

Summary - After a messy fight, you don't know where your relationship stands. But when love is that strong, an argument can't stand in the way.

Warnings - Angst, fighting, swearing

Angered shouts. Tears of frustration. White noise. Desperate pleads. And then silence. That's what your neighbours would describe if they were asked to describe what they had heard from your house. An argument that seemed to have started over nothing, had blown up into a full scale fight. When had it become this bad? Only yesterday, you two had had a date night at home, with movies and wine. Everything was perfect. But then, suddenly everything seemed to go down a downward spiral.

Your relationship with your boyfriend had always been calm, it had been the type of love where you just loved each other with all your hearts, where fights were an incredibly rare appearance. You were both working, and he was away at races most of the time, so usually, you didn't waste time fighting, something that was an unnecessary waste of time in your opinion. But then, something had just switched for a second. It was after the race in Baku, and it hadn't gone well. Lewis had been heartbroken, after coming P15, and had heavily berated himself for it. To make him feel better, you had taken a couple of days off work. to just be with him and give him company to feel better.

It had been on the third day of you spending time with him that he had made an offhand comment that had struck a nerve with you. "I wish you could be there at race weekends more often. It's like you don't care enough about the races" The comment had pissed you off, to put it lightly. "What do you mean, I don't care about the races? I watch all of them Lewis, I'm always supporting you" you had practically seethed at him. "Don't get all huffy, darling, all I'm saying is that the other girlfriends and wives come quite often, but you only come to like three races a year" he had said, already regretting his words. "Maybe that's because I have a job?! I work for my living, and I love my job. I don't have time to fly around the world to accompany you to your races, and its damn hard to get leave off of work anyway, I was lucky to even get a week off of work, and you want me to be there every weekend? It's not possible for a working person, Lewis" you had said, anger bubbling in your voice, pulling away from him to sit up straight. "I know, I just meant-" "No, I know what you meant. I'm sorry I can't always be there, and don't you think I feel bad when I can't be there for you ?" "I know you do, I shouldn't have brought this up. But can you come for the next race?" He had asked, not looking at your eyes, regretting the answer. "I... can't. I have a really big meeting coming up and-" "And you can't come I get it"

And he had just left. You had felt your heart shatter, hating yourself for being so harsh with him. But it was true, you were a very hardworking person, and you had worked damn hard to get to where you were, successful at your job, one of the best in your field. It took years of hard work and perseverance and you were proud of it. But a part of you also knew that Lewis didn't deserve any of the crap you had given him, and you also knew that he was right, the other guys had their partners to support them during various race weekends, and you only showed up to one or two of them. He was well in his rights to tell you that. And you hated how it had ended.

You all alone, in your house, in a cold and empty bed, in a quiet house with silence that was much, much more deafening than words ever could be. It was heartbreaking, to see a future you had dreamed of just shattering in front of your eyes, dreams of having a family of your own with him fluttering away like wisps of smoke, the burning flames leaving only a heartbroken mess of a human being behind. Was that what it felt like? To be burned and left to turn to ashes, when a person that knew exactly how to ignite your flame just left you to burn away? To have someone who could ignite your all consuming passion, and turn you to putty in his hands, who could mould you back into shape, leave you to melt into a liquid through his fingers to just lay on the ground, a sad, broken, person.

And here you were, lying on your bed, the sheets that had warmed the both of you on cold nights, or been home to your pleasure laced activities now offering only some of the warmth it used to, cold and unforgiving, as you turned your pillow for the fifteenth time, neither side cool anymore. Even the pillow didn't want to forgive you, the sweat settling in on your neck again, beads of sweat running down your forehead again. The pulled curtains shielded you from the over bright sunshine, your damp hair sticking to your shoulders and neck. Your eyes, red rimmed and tired, shut to protect them from the faint light in the room, the tiredness not permitting you to even open them to look in the dim light of your room.

Somewhere near you, your phone buzzed again, for what felt like the hundredth time in three days. It had been three days, three long, painful days since you and Lewis had fought and not seen each other, and those 72 hours had ripped a part of your soul out. You had spent those three days in bed, your leave days still saving you from getting out of bed and dragging your body to office. Was your relationship over? Were you never going to meet the love of your life, the man you were destined to be with again? Sighing, you rolled over, pushing the damp strands of hair away from your face. Using strength you didn't know you had, you pulled yourself up, feeling your head spin.

Slowly, you made yourself walk into the kitchen, grabbing a piece of bread and popping it into the toaster. Then you splashed some water on your tired face, shuffling over to the bathroom to brush your teeth. After finishing your toast, you peeled off the sweaty shirt you had pulled on when he had left, realising with a pang that it was Lewis's nightshirt you were wearing, a purple one he loved. Dropping it into the laundry basket, you turned on the shower, stepping under the warm shower. The warm spray untangled the knots in your matted hair, as you soaped your body and hair, fresh tears rolling down your cheeks as memories of your showers together with Lewis came flooding back, as heartbroken sobs wracked your form again.

An hour after the not so great shower, you found yourself in another shirt belonging to Lewis, the bed in fresh sheets and covers, your pillow finally cool on both sides. You were clean and refreshed, albeit heartbroken, waiting on your takeout Chinese food and ice cream. Just as you lay there, scrolling through your Netflix account to watch some episode of FRIENDS to help you keep your spirits up, the doorbell rang. The thought of flavourful Chinese food and ice cream was enough to lure you out of your bed again, bare feet padding across the wooden floor to go to the door. You grabbed your wallet, opening the door, to find not your dinner, but Lewis, at the door, in one of your favourite sweatshirts on him. Did the clothes make you feel better? No. In fact, it just shattered your heart further.

"What are you doing here?" was the predictable line that left your lips. "I um, I left my toothbrush at your place. Can I have it back?"

"I beg your pardon? You left your toothbrush? You came back for a toothbrush, but not for me? Is that all I mean to you?!" you said, anger and a hint of sadness creeping into your tone. "You do mean a lot to me" he replied in a sigh. "Look, I didn't actually leave my toothbrush. That was a lie, and wow, I'm just realising how stupid that sounded, I'm sorry" His words were met with silence. The sadness in your eyes said it all. You were upset. Of course you were. "I don't have any toothbrushes except mine, so please leave" Before you could shut the door in his face, he pushed it back open, stepping into the house on his own.

"No do not come in here, please just get out!"

"No" was his frustrating reply. "What do you mean no? I said get out of my house!" "Not until we stop fighting and talk about what the hell happened!" Lewis yelled back, matching your tone. "Why the hell do you care?!" "Because I still love you damn it, I always have, and this stupid fight cannot, and should not break us apart!"

Your burst into tears. Sliding down against the wall, you buried your face in your hands, the sweatshirt arms covering your face as you sobbed. In an instant, Lewis was walking across to you, strong muscled arms wrapping around your shaking frame. "I'm sorry" you managed to blubber out, "I thought it over, and I don't go to support as often as I feel I should, and I'm sorry"

"No my darling, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said all that to you. You work so hard baby, and I'm so proud of you. And I know that you try to come whenever you can, and I love you so much for that. I'm sorry, and I never shouldv'e asked you to prioritize my passion over yours" rubbing your shoulders softly, he let his chin rest on top of yours. Sniffling, you let your head rest on his shoulder. The soft hiccups that left your lips broke his heart even further, something he hadn't thought possible.

The last 3 days had been pure hell for him. He had missed you, God, he had missed you. He had missed having you in his bed in the morning, tracing patterns on your bare skin. He had missed leaving kisses on your soft cheeks and hands and on your cute nose, missed smiling against your skin as you giggled. He had missed you playing with Roscoe, the doggo following the both of you around the house. Even Roscoe had missed you, sniffing around the house for your familiar smell, cocking his ears up and looking at his dad questioningly.

He had missed your perfume, the scent filling his senses, intoxicating him in the best way possible. He missed you curling up to him, playing with his hair or tracing his tattoos, leaving little kisses around the compass tattoo, tracing his 'Still I Rise' tattoo, missing the goosebumps that would rise on his skin when you traced Michelangelo's Pieta on his skin, and kissed the family and faith tattoos on his sternum. He missed you everywhere, and it had taken three days for him to realize that your presence grounded him. Your presence was something he needed, not to survive, he had done that before, he needed you for his happiness.

And having you in his arms, crying over what he had said? It shattered his heart. And he wanted to just fix everything, to bring everything back to normal. Stroking your hair softly, he kept his lips pressed to your ear, whispering soft "I love you's" and "I'm so sorry baby's" and "I'm here for you's" into your ear, feeling his heart lighten ever so softly when your sniffles decreased and your grip on yourself relaxed.

Moving up to meet his eyes, you moved so you were at eye level with him. "So we're both idiots who are sorry?" You murmured, running your hand up to his collarbone. With a soft laugh, he nodded taking your hand into his, rubbing his thumb over yours. "Fighting sucks" he mumbled pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "It really does" your replied, moving so you were straddling his waist. "Let's never do that again, and let's just make a schedule. We can figure out when you can come and visit me, and I'll just deal with the fact that my ethereal girlfriend won't grace the race tracks every race weekend-" "It all sounds lovely but all I want right now is your lips on mine" you interrupted, bringing a smirk to his lips.

Leaning forward, he pressed his lips to yours, hand moving to maneuver your head closer to his, your hands moving up to cup his cheek, as your traced his jawline, his thumb running over your waist. Breaking apart softly, he let his forehead rest on yours. "I love you" he whispered softly. "I love you too" you mumbled back. Before he could lean back in, the doorbell rang again.

"Damn it. That's my chinese food and ice cream" you sighed, smiling when he laughed. "Was it that bad?" He asked, letting you get up to open the door. "Like you wouldn't believe it"

After getting the food and paying for it, you set two plates on the table and put enough on your plates. "You know what the worst part was about fighting?" "What was?" "Not waking up to you tracing my tattoos" "Aww that's what you missed?" You giggled, walking up to kiss the tattoos on his hands. "I really did. You're cute and adorable and you're all mine. That's why I don't wanna fight. Let's keep it that way" "I love you so much" "I love you too"

***

A/N - I'm so, so sorry I took so long to write this, I really suck at angst, and I hope this is what you wanted, the last thing I want to do is give you subpar work 😭😭

Anyways, have a great day 💙

#lewis hamilton #f1 #formula 1 #sir lewis hamilton #sir lewis #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton blurb #f1 x reader #f1 imagines #f1 drivers x reader #f1 drivers imagines

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donutloverxo · 4 years ago

Text

Good little wife

Note - Inspired by a request I got long ago and written for the happy hoelidays challenge I'm cohosting with my sister hoes @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18 . I used the prompts two idiots in love + Character A loves Christmas. Character B hates it. A melts Bs cold heart Dividers by @firefly-graphics .

Summary - Your husband makes up to you for being a Grinch and a meanie to you throughout your marriage.

Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), dub con, older man/younger woman, arranged marrige, leaking nudes, daddy kink, blood play, virginity/innocence kink, loss of virginity, virgin reader, painful sex, misogyny, mob activities.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 8k

“You look beautiful, cookie,” your mother raved, pressing her lips to your cheek, “He’s a lucky man.”

You only hummed. Staring at your refection, seeing someone you didn’t even recognize.

Your white lace dress somewhat conservative, still really pretty, something you would’ve been more than happy to wear if your circumstances weren’t so depressing.

You almost let out a sardonic laugh, you didn’t get to choose your husband but at least you chose your wedding gown.

“It’ll be alright,” your mother picked at your hair, noticing your evident sadness, you’ve never been one to hide how you feel anyway, “you’ll learn to love him. He’s very successful.”

“I always thought ‘money doesn’t make you happy',” something she had said to you so many times over the years.

“That’s just a fairy tale. People fall out of love, run out of things to talk about, men cheat, in the end all that’s left is how well he can provide for you,” she stated.

You checked your phone as soon as you could, going through your messages to see if your boyfriend, or rather your now ex boyfriend, had sent you anything. You still naively hoped that he'd come on a white horse and sweep you off and away, so you wouldn’t have to marry someone you’ve else. So you wouldn’t have to give up your freedom forever and just be someone’s wife.

But you saw nothing. He hadn’t talked to you, not since your father found out about you both. Since he was from a family your daddy hated with a passion, and you were supposed to as well, your father made you cut all times with him. Locked you in your room in a timeout till you came to your senses.

After over three weeks he came to you, telling you how he was ready to forgive you and move on. You were so happy. For a minute you let yourself believe that this was your father, he loved you unconditionally, of course he'd set aside whatever vain feud he has and let you be with your love.

All your hopes were crushed when he told you he had selected a husband for you whom you have to marry in just a month. That you had to drop out of college since you wouldn’t need that degree anyway.

You always did believe that he had your best interests at heart, you wanted to believe it this time as well, but you just couldn’t.

Cringing inwardly when he kissed your cheeks, “You look beautiful,” he told you, cold eyes staring at you, “Don’t try anything stupid. Andrew is a good man,” he looped your arm in with his.

“He’s more than a decade older than me,” you argued, biting your lip as he squeezed your arm to warn you.

You slapped a fake smile on your face, walking down, one step after another as everyone looked at you in awe.

This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life...

But when you looked at Andy waiting for you at the alter you felt nothing but grave anxiety which made your teeth clatter, his palms joined together at his front, he did look handsome with his tux and neat beard. You have had a crush on him for a long time but you’ve never even had a real conversation with him, you didn’t know him. No one did.

Your heart filled with dread as your father handed you over to Andy, patting him on his shoulder, “Take good care of her.”

“I will,” Andy smiled.

You weren’t really there, maybe your body was but your soul had left you to maybe make the whole ordeal less painful. The priest read the vows asking you if you were ready to take him as your husband forever.

“I do,” since you had no other choice.

“I do,” he repeated.

You felt a shiver jolt up your spine when his fingers grazed yours, putting the thin silver band on your finger before lifting your veil to press his lips to yours, giving you a chaste, barely there kiss as everyone cheered you on.

The rest of the evening was a blur, you could barely register what had happened, everyone sweetly calling you ‘Mrs Barber’ only making you more nervous.

Andy however, was cordial and formal as always, shaking their hands and thanking them.

Since you hadn’t really taken any dance lessons you were left to simply wing it with him at your first dance. With your clammy hands in his you tried to match his pace as he lead you, bumping into his feet with yours more than once.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Relax,” making you shudder.

You looked up at him, he had barely said two words to you but your grandmother often said ‘Eyes are the windows to the soul’.

And Andy’s eyes were so... kind, like a blue ocean you could happily drown in. He almost looked at you as if he were fond of you.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad...

You didn’t really expect Andy to carry you over the threshold, that was just a silly little fantasy you’ve always had and you knew he’d never indulge you in it but he didn’t even hold the door open for you.

You looked around his condo, so grey and boring, looked like it was out of a magazine catalogue, you felt so out of place there.

Naturally, you followed him to his bedroom, watching him wake his coat off, followed by his cuffs as he rolled his sleeves up.

You went over what you wanted to say in your head, how do you tell your husband that you’re a virgin, on your wedding night--that was something your grandmother never gave you advice on. You could’ve used her wisdom then.

With your mouth suddenly dry you tried to speak as he poured himself a drink, “Um... I’ve...”

“What?” he looked at you, quirking a brown brow up.

“Nothing,” you shook your head as you took a seat on the edge of the bed. “This is a nice house.”

“You can take the guestroom,” he said bluntly.

“What?”

“You can take the guestroom. I’ve already put all your bags there, you can decorate it however you like but don’t touch anything else.”

“But I...I’ve never heard of husband and wife sleeping in different rooms.”

“That’s true, it is unusual. This is not a normal marriage though, is it?” His tone so frustratingly patronising, as if he was talking to a child.

You’ve never really been appreciated for your mind, women never are--not where you come from, even your love Alex only ever thought of you as a ‘pretty face’. But Andy didn’t need to spell it out for you, “You... don’t want me...” you realised.

He only scoffed. He’d never been one for long term relationships, he had tried but he could never give himself to another person, women often called him emotionally unavailable, his demanding and dangerous job did contribute a lot to that, but more than that it was his unwillingness to change. He was self aware enough to know that but he didn’t need anyone else. He didn’t want to be tied down or to have a nagging immature wife.

“But why...” you wondered. Sure, you weren’t thrilled to marry him, but now you had accepted it and wanted to make the best of your new life. You thought he wanted the same.

“Why would I want you?” he spat. “ You’re nothing but a spoilt rich girl who’s had everything handed to her. Who was ungrateful and stupid enough to fraternize with the enemy.”

You let out a shaky exhale, looking at him with teary eyes, “I loved him...”

“You don’t know the first thing about love,” he rolled his eyes.

“He loved me too! But I’m willing to put that behind me. I made a vow to you.”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” you frowned.

He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery to show you the compromising pictures you had sent to your ex, “He shared that with everyone, it was all just a ploy to humiliate your father.”

You gasped, taking his phone in your trembling hand, your breasts exposed as you shyly looked at the camera. You had flat out refused to send him a nude when he asked for it but then he threatened to break up with you, to go after your best friend, even called you a prude because you hadn’t slept with him. At the moment you felt as if you had no choice but to do it...

“He wouldn’t,” you sobbed.

“And because of your stupidity I had to marry you since no one else would ever want you,” he said. But then regretted it as you just started crying harder. He thought of maybe trying to console you but what would he even say?

He took the phone from you before you could even think of deleting the photos. He used them to pleasure himself almost every night. Maybe he was an idiot, he could have the real thing, yet he was pushing you away, “Go to your room,” he told you which made you sob even moreso.

You looked up at him, begging him for a hug, for some sort of comfort or sympathy but his face was cold and harsh. Finally gathering your wits you went to the other room, ready to cry yourself to sleep.

No matter how beautiful you were, you were still thrusted upon him, you didn’t love him, you never could because you never even had a choice

“Perfect,” you beamed, setting down the chicken pot pie you had just cooked up.

Your grandmama had always told you that a wife should be a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom. So that her man would never stray.

And while you hadn’t had a chance to be a whore for Andy... something that you were looking forward to, you hoped the fresh home cooked meal, the holiday season and decorations you had spent the past few days working on would put him in the mood. To maybe accept you as his wife.

For the past six months you had tried everything, making him breakfast, packing his lunch, offering him massages, even trying to help him with his work but he was always so cold to you.

You feared that this is how it will be forever. He would never love you, not the way you’ve always loved him. Even when he was so cruel towards you.

But you were nothing if not resilient. So you said chuck it and went all out. Decorating your whole house, with a real tree for the past few days while Andy was out on a work trip for thanksgiving. Maybe you could surprise him and he’d realise just how much he lucked out with you.

You even went with a more risqué outfit than you usually would. Your little emerald green skirt with pleats was a bit too short and impractical for the cold winters but you were going to stay inside anyway. It was topped off with a tight burgundy blouse and a push up bra which made your girls look enticing and some red pumps.

With a pumpkin pie for dessert in the oven, your salads done and the gingerbread flavored candles lit up you were good to go.

So you sat on the couch, watching 'A Christmas story' for the hundredth time to kill time till he gets home and to distract your nervous mind.

After ninety minutes the movie was over but Andy still wasn’t home. You tried calling him but it kept going to voicemail.

Frustrated, but determined to follow through with your ‘Seduce Andy Barber’ plan you put on another movie, chewing your lip till it bled as you impatiently waited for him.

Soon it was midnight, your food got cold and the rumbling in your tummy became more prominent so you decide to eat your dinner, put the leftovers in the freezer and cut your losses.

You were almost done with your dishes when your husband coming into the apartment, turning around you saw him hang his coat on the back of the chair and plomp down on it. He groaned, pulling the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal his bulky forearms.

“You’re home,” you said, taking off your apron so he could see your little get up.

He didn’t smile at you like you expected he would, he didn’t say ‘Good job’ like you thought he would. He certainly didn’t look like he wanted to bend you over the dining table and take you then and there. He simply frowned at you. Looking at you as if your mere existence offended him.

“I told you; you were allowed to decorate your room however you liked. Not the whole apartment,” he growled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What? I did it for you... I thought you would like it, ” you stood there, dumbfounded, shifting from one foot to another, “You don’t like Christmas.” You realised.

“No, I don’t. Christmas isn’t all fun and jolly for everybody. I’ve never had anyone to celebrate it with,” he did you a once over, his pants tightening uncomfortably as he took in your little ensemble.

He had never had a single good Christmas in his whole life. He’d usually spend it either working or drinking. But now, he had you, his good little wife who had gone out of her way to do all this just for him.

He could kiss your red lips then and there, finally do what he’s been wanting to go for the past few months and make love to you, eat the delicious meal you had made him because he was fucking starving.

But then he realized how easily you could be taken away from him. How this was all so fickle.

“Do you want a divorce?” he crossed his hands over his chest, as if daring you to give a wrong answer, “If you do, I’ll give you one right now.”

“I - ” you strutted, you didn’t really know, “Daddy would never let that happen.” To which he scoffed.

Your father would kill you both if this marriage failed. He knew that, why would he still be willing to risk everything?

“Where are you going?” you asked when he got up from the chair.

“To my room, to sleep,” he sighed.

He knew what you would say, he knew you were daddy’s little girl who’d die before disappointing her father, which was solely why you were with him, and yet he let himself fall for you and get hurt.

You tugged on his shirt, ready to beg him to at least eat the meal you made for him but then you frowned, inhaling the feminine perfume from his shirt, mixed with his own Cologne, you took a step back, your eyes brimming with tears as you realised he might’ve been with another woman.

While you were home slaving away to make everything perfect for him.

Your father had a handful of mistresses, a few of them younger than you. Your mother knew, all wives know and look the other way. That was how it was supposed to be. It was how you make marriages last...

And your poor beaten heart could take his coldness towards you, it absolutely could not bear him being with another woman. Your father had always praised him for being loyal, and it was one of the things you loved about him...

“Where were you?” you sniffled to keep the tears at bay.

“I was out working. So I could pay for your shopping sprees.” He spat.

You gasped, “I haven’t gone shopping in months! I only did now for Christmas!”

“That tree better be down by the time I wake up. You can out all that crap in your bedroom if you like. I do not what to see it.” He said gravelly, before slamming his door shut.

Something was horribly wrong.

Andy came home to an empty, cold house. You weren’t there to greet him like you usually are, in fact you hadn’t been for the past few weeks. He could hear the TV from your room, some kind of musical playing.

He checked the kitchen for some food, you used to make dinner every night, rave about your love for cooking and baking, but now it seemed that you lived on poptarts and McDonald’s.

He knocked on your door, to ask if you wanted some of the alfredo he was cooking up, also to maybe get you to have dinner with him.

Ever since he had married you, he had such a beautiful companion to have dinner with. To watch silly romcoms with, someone who waited for him to come home, called him all worried when he was late, asked him how his day was

It’d break his heart to say good night to you, you’d give him those puppy eyes, fluttering your lashes as if begging him to invite you to bed with him.

He wanted to ask you to come, to feel what it would be like to snuggle up with your soft body, to smell your hair, to finally fuck you, but he’d just go away to sleep in his cold bed with a heavy heart. Making do with his hand as he thought of you, it wouldn’t feel nearly as good as you would but it would have to do.

“Can I come in, honey?” he asked.

Letting himself in when no answer came from you. You were lying on your bed, blankets draped over you, your eyes trained on the television. He looked around your room, he had only been there a couple of times, he had expected to see some kind of winter wonderland since you were such a fan of Christmas.

But it looked just how it usually did... pale pink walls, a queen sized bed, a small closet and a dresser and a vanity. No tree or fairy lights or nut crackers.

He leaned against the door frame. “Did you have dinner?” He wanted to know.

You made some sort of unintelligible noise; which could mean anything. So he asked, “Would you like some pasta? I can’t make it as good as you do but I’ll try.”

“No.” You answered. Still not even looking at him.

“It’s Christmas Eve, do you want to go celebrate with your family?”

You shook your head in response. “No, I think I’ll just stay here.”

He had stolen your brightness and sunshine away, tainting you with his darkness. “Stop it,” he scolded, switching off the TV and standing in front of you to make you listen to him. “Get ready, I’m dropping you off at your fathers. You’re not spending Christmas in bed.”

“What difference does it make?” you huffed.

“Get ready. Right. Now.” He ordered, pulling your blanket away from you.

“No!” you whined. Sitting up, your face heating up with a simmering rage you had harbored for months. “Why do you even care? Do you want to get me out of the house so you could spend Christmas with her?!”

“Who’s her?” he furrowed his brows.

“Your mistress!” you yelled, looking around for something you could hurt him with, you grabbed a hold of your Mrs Bunny, your cute pink stuffie and threw it at his face. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re not bringing her in to my house!” You said, throwing another stuffie at him which he caught with his hand.

“Honey,” he said, as if he was so disappointed with you, for catching him in his lies and deceit. “I don’t have a mistress. Where would I even find the time for one? All those late nights were spent at the office or in meetings.”

He would be the world’s biggest idiot to get a mistress when he had a wife like you waiting for him at home. A wife he hadn’t even so much as even kissed... given how pouty and tempting your lips looked, he didn’t know how he resisted for so long.

“Don’t call me honey,” you puffed out your cheeks, “And I don’t believe you.”

“Well, what can I do to make you believe me?”

You sighed, laying back down on the bedding, “There’s not much you can do. Except leave me be. I just want to sleep this Christmas away.”

He had to do something to get your spirits up. And since you has thrown away your old decorations he ran to every store in the town, waiting in the queue for hours, calling in as many favors as he could to get some new ones.

While he wasn’t able to get a real Christmas tree, he got a fake one which was a bit smaller than the one you had put up but not all that bad.

You had decorated the apartment with the traditional red, greens and golden he decided to go with a soft pastel pink theme. Hoping that you would like it and forgive him.

He had gotten you couple of gifts, a little babydoll he saw on the internet, it was pink and sexy, he thought of you the moment he saw it. Ordering it for you but he never really gathered enough courage to ask you to wear it. He wrapped it up for you in some festive paper, tying a ribbon around it.

He decided to get as many gifts for you as he could so the tree wouldn’t look so depressing, a Tiffany’s set, an advent calendar from a make up company he knew you liked, a box of cookies and one of chocolates, a new apron with floral patterns and frilly trimmings, some cozy socks, and a surprise gift he had been saving for you.

Looking around the living room, while it wasn’t as good as what you had done with the place he was still proud of what he could pull off in just a couple of hours.

He called out your name before knocking and entering, switching on your bedside lamp he sat next to you, stroking your hair, “Wake up, angel.”

“Seriously, stop it with the petnames,” you said, your voice groggy from sleep and irritated. Because he had only ever said your name with contempt before.

“I’m not going to stop, honey. You’re my wife, I can call you whatever I like.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, rubbing your sleep away from your eyes.

“I have a surprise for you.” He smiled at you.

And while he had certainly smiled at you before that, when you had said something funny or silly (which you usually did just to see him smile), this one seemed so much brighter and warm.

“What is it?” you sat up. Still a bit crossed with him but excited to see what surprise he had for you.

“You have to come into the living room for that, and promise to stop being a Grinch,” he said, bopping your nose.

You scoffed incredulously, “I’m being a Grinch?! You were the one who made me take everything down in the first place!”

“I know, honey, and I am sorry for that. Hopefully I can make it up to you.” He winked.

You combed your hair, splashing some water on your face and then following him out to see what he had in mind for you.

You all but gasped at the tree in the middle of your living room, so beautiful, the soft glow of the fairy lights illuminated the room, little festive trinklets all over the room.

He had got you a pink stocking with sparkling silver hearts on it. His was a normal red one with ‘Andy' written with a sharpie or a pen. You giggled at that.

“You like it, honey?” he asked.

You nodded, observing the ornaments on your tree, “I do. Thank you so much, Andy. It’s so beautiful, I don’t think anyone’s ever done something so grand for me.”

Your rave gave him the courage to out his hand over your waist, pulling you into him, “I know this doesn’t make up for everything, but it’s start.”

“Yes! I think... I’d like a fresh start,” you beamed up at him

He excused himself to make some hot chocolate for you both, handing you a mug with little heart shaped marshmallows and sprinkles on top of it. You didn’t even realise how you ended up snuggled up next to him on the couch, Elf playing on the TV which he shockingly had never seen before.

“You know... for someone who hates Christmas so much you did a pretty good job saving it!” you giggled, kissing his bearded cheek.

“Well...” he looked down at you, wiping away the mustache the hot chocolate gave you before sucking his thumb off, “I don’t hate it anymore, because I’m not alone,” he said, his thumb pulling on your plump bottom lip.

“Um...” you face heated up as looked away, “You got me gifts!” you screamed a bit overzealous to change the subject, “Can I open one now? Please?! I’m just so excited!”

“Sure,” he murmured, a bit salty that he didn’t get the kiss.

He knelt next to you on the carpet as you pinked one up, shaking it next to your ear, scrunching your nose up so cutely as you tried to decipher what it was.

“Mmm... I can’t tell...”

“Why don’t you just open it?” he asked as his hand caressed your bare thigh, finding himself unable to keep his hands off of you now that he has you.

You ripped at the wrapping paper, opening the box to reveal the skimpy baby pink lingerie he had got you.

You pulled it out of the box and then started stammering, unable to form words once you realised what it was. “Is this... um..”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s very cute and nice. Do you, want me to wear it for you?”

“If that’s what you want,” he said casually and then shrugged but then regretted it as your face fell and you let. He wasn’t used to half-assing things if he was going to tell you his true feelings, he had to go all out.

Taking a deep breath, “I have to tell you something I’ve been meaning to say for months.”

“What?”

“I... love you,” he looked down at your lap, because he couldn’t bear to look in your eyes if you decided to reject him.

“Oh, Andy!” you beamed, “I love you too! I’ve always loved you,” you crawled on top of him, throwing your arms around his neck you hugged him.

“That’s good then,” he smiled stroking your back, he pulled you back so he could look at your pretty face, cupping your cheek he pressed his lips against yours.

He had only kissed you once, months ago at your wedding, and while it was not bad at all it was too short and formal and distant, nothing compared to how he felt right now. Moulding his lips against yours, kneading the flesh of your ass, you tasted just as sweet as he imagined you would.

You gasped in his mouth when he rutted his erection up into your core. “Andy!” your chest heaving as you felt him pressing against your thigh.

“What do you say you go put that on for me, doll? Hm?” he instructed.

You meekly nodded, grabbing a hold of the lingerie which you just now noticed was so sheer and would not really leave anything to the imagination.

“Come on out quickly now,” his impatience seeping through his voice as he sat on the edge of his, or what would now be both of your marital bed, one leg crossed over the other, his foot tapping against the floor.

His pants already snug, just from imagining what you would look like with the flimsy thing on. It wasn’t as revealing or kinky as some of the other pieces he had seen, but he felt it would match your personality perfectly.

He groaned, calling out your name again, “I’m gonna fucking die of blue balls, if you don’t come out right now, I’m coming in,” he got up to his feet to do just that but then stopped when he heard the knob twist.

One smooth leg peaking out of the bathroom, “Um... promise you wouldn’t make fun of me?” you asked. Your eyes screwed shut, you didn’t really have much of choice but you had never been so vulnerable in front of anyone. You’d hate to not be satisfactory for him.

“I promise,” his face softened, he had to practice some restrain, at least until he breaks you in, “Now come on out.”

You opened the door, your meek eyes fixed on your hardwood floor, your hands hugging your midsection. You blinked when he said nothing for several long, tortuous moments. Peaking a glance up at him you found him staring at you.

“Uh, do you like it?” you asked as your hands played with the helm of the teddy.

He almost scoffed. Like would be an understatement.

He knew pink would be your color. The nightie so short, clinging to your curves, your nipples pebbled against the satiny fabric, you looked like a sweet little doll and a whole fucking meal to devour at the same time. He would burst before he even got to touch you.

“Twirl,” he made the motion with his forefinger to demonstrate it, “Let me look at you better. And hands to your sides.”

You took a deep breath, letting your hands fall, doing as he had asked, your heart hammering in your chest because for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out if he actually liked you.

“Stop there,” he instructed when he got a look at your pert, round butt, the cloth barely covering it, he could see the imprints of the thong you wore.

“What are you thinking?” you asked.

“If I like your front better or your behind.” He almost chuckled at the incredulous gasp you let out. “Alright, look at me again.” Definitely the front, because he could see your beautiful face. Taking his original position on the bedding, “Come here,” he patted his lap.

Like the obedient wife that you aspired to be, you followed, perching yourself up on his lap, your arms around his neck for some support, looking into his lust blown, dark eyes.

You bite your lip when you felt that pressing into your thigh. Unable to bear his intense gaze you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

He hushed you, snuggling your soft body closer to his, his fingers drawing patterns on your hip, “How many men have you been with before?”

It didn’t really matter whatever your answer would be. But he wanted to tell you, that how ever many there were before him won’t matter anymore. From now on you are solely his.

“None,” you whispered so lowly that he almost couldn’t hear you.

“What?” Holding onto your chin so that he could make you look at him, “None? How is that possible?”

“I’ve just been waiting for the right one... I was going to with Alex but then didn’t...” you said as your hands caressed the coarse hair on his jaw.

He hummed, the fact that he would be your one and only, forever, only served to entice him further.

“Have you ever sucked a cock before?” he asked, although he knew the answer.

“No...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you,” he promised, pushing on your shoulders to make you get on your knees.

You hissed at the cold floor, biting into the your calves and knees.

His dainty princess, he grabbed a throw pillow, instructing you to put it under, all the while staring at your cleavage peaking out like a creep.

Your eyes were fixated on his crotch, eager to see what a real penis looks like. You had watched some porn when you were a teen, out of sheer curiosity, but your friends had told you to lower your expectations. That real ones are much smaller and not so aesthetically pleasing.

You all but gasped when he took his cock out of the confines of his sweats, slapping over his abdomen. So big... and thick, with two veins over it, a bright flushed tip leaking with pre-ejaculate, and some soft hair dusted at the base of it.

You tried to stop yourself but then couldn’t help it, your hand shyly touching his tip yanking it down and then releasing it to see what happens. As suspected it flew back over, hard against his tummy, making you giggled.

“Oh gosh...” you slapped a palm over your mouth to stop from laughing.

He scrunched up the hair on the back of your head, yanking your neck back so that he could look at you, “What’s so funny?” he growled.

“Nothing,” you gulped, “It’s all just so strange and new... and exciting...”

He hummed as he took in your words. Grabbing the base of his cock as he rubbed his tip and precum all over your cheeks till your face was positively glowing with his essence.

“You wanna taste it?” he asked, to which you eagerly nodded.

Nudging your pouty lips with his tips before tapping on them when you didn’t get the clue, “Open.”

“Oh,” you said before opening as wide as you could, his length easing into your mouth. You hummed around him, the salty unique taste of him you had never really known before and couldn’t get enough of now.

He was barely halfway through inside you when he touched the back of your throat, he tutted, “Relax your throat,” he told you.

You didn’t really know what he meant but you tried loosening up all your muscles. Choking around him when he pushed in a few more inches.

Most of him was still out but it was as good as it’s gonna get, not that he’d ever complain... no... your mouth was like heaven. He had only known his hand for the past year Or so, and your mouth was almost too much.

Holding onto your face to keep it in place he started thrusting upwards into you, his heart swelling with tears escaped your eyes but you still tried to take more of him, to please him like the good girl that you were.

He stopped his hips, gently slapping your cheek to get your attention, “You always look at me when my dick is in your mouth. Got it?”

Since you couldn’t talk with your mouth full of cock, you just nodded.

You peered up at him innocently, fluttering your lashes, popping him out of your sloppy mouth, “Am I doing it right?” because you truly couldn’t tell.

He chuckled, smoothening a hand down your hair, “More than right... it’s too good but I want to come in your pussy. Maybe I’ll make you swallow my load latter, what do you think?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” you licked your lips to taste more of him.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered.

“Um... can I go fix my face before that,” you rubbed your mouth with the back of your hand, you doubted you looked very pretty to him then.

“No,” he stated, pulling you up by your armpits and all but throwing you on the bed.

You yelped and tried to protest, “I wanna look good for you...”

He pushed your legs apart to make room for him, smirking above you, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat, his prey, “This really does look pretty on you...” he rubbed the flimsy spagetti strap between his fingers, “but it’s served it’s purpose.”

You screamed, holding onto his wrists as he ripped the babydoll in two pieces, revealing your breasts to him, he yanked at it, throwing the remains away.

“That’s much better,” he gritted, pinching one of your peaks, capturing it in his mouth and suckling at it to his hearts content.

You pouted as you looked at the torn cloth, a bit upset that he ruined his gift to you. “I really liked that...” you sniffled. But couldn’t really ponder because Andy’s ravenous mouth was sucking hickies all over your breasts.

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you ten more,” he bit into the side of your breasts, your mewls and whines were like music to his ears.

“Andy...” you heaved, “Don’t leave marks... I have to go to dinner tomorrow to moms...”

He stopped abruptly, propping himself up above you and you were afraid that you had upset him, “You’re my wife now, honey. Your father gave you to me,” his hand snaking down your body, between your legs, he parted your moist lips, the pad of his fingers meeting your little pearl, “I can do whatever I want with you,” he reminded you, pushing a finger into you, “This cunt is mine now, got it?”

“Yess...” you whined as you squirmed under him, the invasion of his finger inside you too alien to your body.

“Which means you ask for permission before you touch yourself, or better yet, don’t touch yourself because that’s my job,” he stated.

“Have you ever made yourself come?” he asked, trailing soft kisses down your body till he settled between your legs, moving the strong of the thing to the side so he could get a better look at your virgin pussy, adding another finger inside you, your snug walls clinging to his digits, “You’re so fucking small. Can barely fit my finger. How will you take my cock,” he teased.

He’d make you take it.

You whimpered at the sting of it, “I’ll try, daddy...” throwing your head back as you massaged your breast.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him when he stopped his ministrations, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he quirked a brow. “Do you realise what you just called me?”

You simply shook your head because you hadn’t really called him anything, “Andy?”

“No,” he huffed, “You called me daddy, honey.”

You gasped, you didn’t mean to say it out loud! “No...” you shook you head from side to side, trying to pull away from his fingers still knuckle deep inside you, “It can’t be!”

“Oh, but you did,” he laughed, “And you’re gonna say it again. In fact, from now on, when it’s just the two of us that’s the only thing that you will call me. Unless you wanna get punished...”

“Okay...” you said, still a bit unsure of it all.

You had always called him ‘daddy’ in your fantasies. It was maybe a bit expected for it to slip out like that but still so embarrassing. You said it again just to make sure that he actually wanted you to call him that and wasn’t just teasing you.

“Good girl,” he winked, latching his mouth around your clit, fucking you with his fingers as he kept sucking.

“Daddy...” you whined, biting on your hand to muffle some of your noises, a knot building up in the pit of your stomach, “Don’t stop, please!”

You gushed over his mouth, he lapped it all up, making sure nothing went to waste.

“You did good, honey,” he said, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard glistening with your juices. He rolled your thong down your thick thighs, “You wear this to dinner tomorrow,” he told you. “Since I’m going to be a real husband from now on I pick out what you wear.”

All so he could see you in those pretty flowy dresses you wear sometimes, but you didn’t need to know that.

He hastily pushed his sweats and briefs past his hips, throwing them off the bed before pulling his t-shirt over his head.

You bit your lip at just the sight of him. His shoulders so broad, chest so wide, dark hair dusted all over his chest, you just knew then that all those hours he spent at the gym paid off, you knew he’d be ripped.

But you absolutely did not expect, someone as uptight as him to have numerous tattoos all over his torso.

Something inscribed in Sanskrit on his chest that you didn’t really understand... the logo of your family’s mob on just under his pectoral.

You sat up to get a better look at them, tracing a skull on his bicep that looked much less sophisticated than the others, the lines a bit scribbly, it was already fading.

“That’s the first one,” he interrupted you, “I was a kid back then, got my foster brother to do it.”

You pressed a kiss over it, “I love it.”

His blue eyes beamed at you, he was so beautiful...

“Now for your gift...” he circled your wrist bringing it down to his pelvis.

“Hm?” you looked down, tears brimming up in your eyes as you saw your name written on just beside his hipbone, next to his hard cock, standing tall against his stomach. In a small heart, dark ink against his pale skin, “When did you get it done?” you sniffles, touching his skin to feel the texture of the tattoo.

“A few weeks ago. I just... I’ve never belonged to anyone. Never had a family of my own. But now I have you, and you have me, I’m just as much yours as you’re mine,” he confessed, finally feeling the weight of it lifted off his shoulders. You were a blessing in disguise.

“I love you,” you beamed up at him.

“I love you too, doll, now come on,” he pushed you till you were on your back, “Daddy’s waited long enough. Can’t wiat to fill you up, make you mine.”

He planted a hand on the mattress, so he could see what he was doing to your virgin cunt, look at you and her, as he defiles you and makes you a woman, his thick manhood nudging your glistening lips as he eased into you, he felt you stretching around him, your face twisted in pain as you begged him to go easy on you, he halted when he felt your barrier.

He looked up at your pretty face, sparkling with his spend and your tears, your sweet little whimpers filled the room, he stayed still for a moment to let you get used to him, he knew he should take it easy.

His wife was a delicate, fragile, sweet little girl. He should be more gentle. A better husband and man would be. But he had his whole life to become a good man for you, tonight he just wanted to take what was rightfully his.

Letting out a deep, almost animalistic growl, piercing through your seal, your innocence till you were screeching, your nails drawing blood from the sides of his thighs.

“It hurts!” you screamed.

“It’ll only hurt for a little bit, doll. Just ride through it,” he cooed, stroking your sensitive clit to draw your attention away from the pain, he withdrew his hips before snapping them back till he was deep within your womb.

“You’re so snug, honey,” he grunted, not letting up his pace as he kept fucking into you,

A proud smirk gracing his face as he looked down to see himself covered in blood, a sticky mess of both your bodily fluids where your sexes were joined. His dick somehow grew harder inside you knowing how he took something from you that you’ll never be able to give someone else.

Slowly your crying and whining was subsiding as you got used to have him inside you, but he wanted to hear you scream for him in a different way. “Don’t you want to make your husband, no, your daddy happy, honey?” He asked, each word punctuated with a deep, harsh thrust into you.

You nodded, willing your tears away, cringing when you saw his crotch covered in your blood, “Yes I do, daddy. What do I do?”

“Your cute dumb brain always needs to be told what to do,” he chuckled, moving closer to you he circled his palms around your wrists, pinning them above you, “Wrap your legs around me.”

You followed along, wrapping your legs around his hips and hooking them together on his back. Closing your eyes when you felt your body seizing up, your pussy pulsating around his length when you felt the familiar feeling creep up on you.

“Look at me!” he barked and you immediately opened your eyes, “You look at me when I fuck you.”

You gulped and dared not close your eyes again. Even as you felt your orgasm wash over you, clenching around his length. His face was scrunched up, his neck, face and chest flush as he chased his own release till you felt his warm release coating your walls.

He collapsed above you, panting beside you he kissed your hair, “You liked that, babygirl?”

You let out a meek little yes. Feeling empty and void of his warmth and hardness when he pulled out of you before settling next to you.

“But...” you trailed off. Not finding it in you to bare yourself to him like that just yet.

“But what?” he whipped his head to look at you.

“But I’m sorry if I wasn’t very good!” Since you had simple laid there and took whatever he gave you. You had heard that men don’t like that...

“Don’t worry, honey, you were absolutely perfect,” he sighed. “You’ll get even better with practice, we’re gonna practice a lot from now on.”

You tried to cover your breasts up with the comforter, still awkward about being stark naked right next to a man, a man who looked as good as like Andy, but he swatted at your hands, reprimanding you and telling you to stay still and let him look at you to his hearts content.

Soon you felt your cunt throbbing back up again, still so raw from the loving Andy gave it, you tried rubbing your legs together to ease it a little bit.

“It still hurts?” Andy asked as you nodded.

He snaked a hand between your legs, massaging your little nub and your lips, tutting when you tried to pull away from his touch, “Shh I’m trying to make it hurt less.”

He hummed when he saw his seed leak out of you, pushing a finger in you, much to your displeasure, to keep it inside you, where it belonged.

He would make you go on some form of birth control as soon as he could. While the idea of you all round and plump with his kid was more than appealing, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else just yet. You were young, he had plenty of years to breed you.

“You’d make a good mother,” he wondered out loud.

“Hm?” you blinked at him. Squirming from the torture he was yielding on your overworked sex. His lips curled up in a twisted smile as he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping your blood on your soft nipples, painting them crimson as you shivered.

You looked at his cock, hard again against his stomach. “Does it hurt?” you asked, your hands twitching to touch it again.

“Yes, it does. Do you wanna help me get rid of the pain?”

“Mm... can I use my mouth again? I’m sore...”

“It’s okay, honey, you’ll get used to it,” he promised, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him, your palms pressed into his abdomen as you looked so wrecked, “Guide me in,” he ordered.

You shook your head which earned you a harsh slap on your ass so you held onto the base of his cock, parting your intimate lips, before slowly sinking down on him.

You sighed as you settled, sitting on top of him with his cock nestled inside you, so full and strangely satisfied, his warmth soothing your aching walls, he spanked you again to remind you to move, so you started bouncing on top of him the best you could.

His hand groped at your bouncing titts before he wrapped a hand around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure as you whimpered and cried, just to remind you who’s in charge, not that you’d forget anytime soon.

His only regret was that he hadn’t done this sooner. He was an idiot to ever resist an angel like you. He’ll have to do a lot to make up for lost time.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#happyhoelidays2020 #andy barber x oc #andy barber x y/n #steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #andy x reader #chris evans x reader #defending jacob fanfic #mob!andy barber

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finelinevogue · 3 years ago

Note

Can you write something about when Harry and Y/N broke up but fans speculate that they got back together and they did get back together. They broke over something stupid, please. You don’t have to do this exactly it can be something like that.

let’s see how this turns out! hope it’s what you wished for?!

The last few months had been rough.

What had started as rumours of a breakup between everyones favourite couple, you and Harry, had turned into an actual breakup.

It had started by Harry spending more time with Olivia, due to press for Don’t Worry Darling. They were always hanging out with each other, even when there was no publicity stunt telling them to. You found it appropriate at first, wanting the movie to gain some form of reputation, but after a while you believed it turned South. It was becoming a definite friendship and not just because they had to. It was the way that Harry would bring Olivia over for dinner without checking with you first, or taking the dog for a walk with her not you, or even staying longer out on stunts than they needed to just because they wanted to.

So you challenged Harry on it. Hell, even the tabloids were challenging you both - claiming Harry had split from you for Olivia. You made him question whether he thought his actions were irresponsible and appropriate or not, to which he thought there was nothing wrong and thought you were being irrational. You didn’t speak to him for the rest of the day, only to find him later on the phone speaking to Olivia about how crazy you’d been acting about it all. So you showed him crazy and walked out.

Until today.

For over a half a year your sister had her wedding planned and Harry was supposed to be your guest. You were nervous about turning up without him, because your family were very judgy. Your sister couldnt help being the smarter and the prettier one, but she also didn’t have to parade it around so everyone knew of it. Your mum and dad thought you a disappointment for the longest time, but once you’d gotten a job and had moved out they were a bit more loving over you. Still didn’t hide the fact they desperately hoped for you to have a relationship. It wasn’t that you were bringing Harry along to prove that someone loved you, but more to prove that they would never fully be satisfied whether you had a boyfriend or not. There would always be a podium stand slightly lower for you to stand on.

However, they didn’t know about the breakup.

“Y/N, nice to see you. Where’s Harry?” Another guest asked you, relatives of your mum. It was the same question over and over again, no one really caring about how you are but instead whether you’re in a positive relationship.

“Oh um I think he’s just running a bit late.” Was your chosen answer to respond to said question. It was repetitive, but it kept people off your back.

The wedding was completely beautiful. It was in a beautiful church and was decorated to perfection. The theme was white and royal blue, something your sister had always dreamed of. Children played amongst the pews and family relatives mumbled to each other about gossip. There was still a heavy sadness to the event. Maybe it was because your sister hadn’t asked you to be a bridesmaid - instead, choosing her best friends instead - or maybe it was because you missed Harry so much.

He’d fucked up. He really had, but it didn’t take away that burning passion for him that spread like a wildfire in your belly. You missed him. You still loved him. Worst of all, you had to pretend everything was all alright in front of your family when actually you were breaking apart inside.

Harry hadn’t messaged saying that he was or wasn’t coming, but after everything that had happened you were confident he was going to be a no show, and you would be the embarrassment of the family once again. Your relationship had been very private and exclusive, but Harry’s fans were so investigative you wouldn’t be surprised if they knew that you’d broken up and were aware that you were at a wedding today without him. Neither of you had made a public statement about your breakup, but neither of your wanted to damage each other even more. Fans suspected though and rumours travel fast.

“Y/N how are you doing? How’s Harry?” Another aunt came and asked you, this time with your mother in tow.

“Oh he’s great, yes.” You smiled forcefully, not actually having a clue how your ex-boyfriend was doing. You didn’t keep up with his social media because you were afraid of what you might find.

“Where is he? Is he here?” Your aunt asked.

“He’s late, apparently.” Your mother answered for you, sneeringly. “You’ll be made a fool of if he’s a no show Y/N.”

“I know.”

“I hope everything goes well for you both.” Your aunt kindly said, before waiting for your mum to say something nice too. That was a mistake though.

“Well it’s unlikely she’ll find someone again!” Your mother laughed and pulled your aunt away from you. You furrowed your eyebrows and let your heart sink low.

What were you thinking, letting Harry go like that? Your mum was right, you were never going to find anyone else again. You were so lucky with Harry. He was so kind and so patient with you, but obviously he’d run out of steam towards the end. It doesn’t surprise you. You’ve always been told you’re a mighty handful and you need a lot of work put into looking after you, so you understand why you were probably too much for Harry. The showbiz life had never really been something you’d completely submerged yourself into, whereas you guess for Olivia it was rooted in her from birth. She understood Harry’s world the same way he did hers. They would match perfectly for each other, if that’s what they wanted.

You watched the room continue as usual, but you couldn’t keep yourself here. There was too much sadness welling deep within you that you wanted to just run and then keep running. So you did, only to get as far as the bench in the front courtyard. The outside felt calmer and more freeing than inside, you sat and absorbed it for a while, not realising that you were crying until your pretty multicoloured dress had grown darker with a pool of your tears.

“Shit.” You tried rubbing the tears out, but only made you cry a little harder. You thought about your makeup running and tried to compose yourself, fanning your face to calm it down from the heat now.

“And here I was thinking weddings were supposed to be happy.”

You stopped fanning your face to look at him. You couldn’t believe he was standing there, dressed in a beautiful white suit and salmon pink shirt underneath to compliment the colours of your dress - the outfit that you’d helped him pick out over a year ago. He’d remembered. He trusted that you’d still be wearing this dress. He was a sight alright. A vision of beauty and love.

“Harry?” You questioned, wiping your under eyes to clear away any running mascara, not quite believing he was standing there.

“So what was it? Bad music playing? No vodka? Or maybe there’s nowhere for you to escape to go read the book I know you have stuffed away in your clutch bag.” He stood at a distance from you, hands in his trouser pockets, to make sure you were comfortable.

“I brought vodka instead of the book.” You chuckled, reaching into your clutch to prove it to him.

“Lucky for you, i’ve come to save the day.” Harry reached to the inside of his blazer pocket and pulled out a Kindle. You’d always been debating whether or not to buy one, because the feeling of having a book to turn its’ physical pages is a feeling second to none. “Take it, it’s yours.”

Harry handed it out to you and you stood up to reach for it hesitantly. Harry assured you that it was okay and that you’d been reading too many books if you thought it was a trap of some sort.

“Thank you, Harry.” You spoke sincerely. You stroked your thumb over the cover and turned the case lid over to start up the screen. The screen lit up and it was set to a picture of your favourite quote, annotated just as you would have in your own book. You chuckled and let a few tears drop from the kindness of all of this.

“And then…” Harry unlocked the Kindle with your birthday as the password, before clicking on the library so you could discover what was waiting for you on your virtual shelves. Harry had downloaded all your most favourite books, whilst also downloading the ones he knew had been on your to-be-read list. He’d even added a few of his favourite books too, just because you liked reading his recommendations.

You smiled, but felt so lost.

“W-why are you here, H?” You asked, closing the lid and bravely looking up into his enchanting eyes. You had to control yourself not to comment on how wondrous they looked.

“To save the day.” He chuckled in repeat, until he knew you weren’t taking that for an answer. “Because I fucked up. Big league time.”

“Yeah.” You whispered, looking down at your shoes to see that they weren’t that far apart at all. He was so close to you, yet he wasn’t yours to catch.

“And i’ll never forgive myself for letting you walk out of that door. The promotion shit with Olivia? Done. I’ve finished. I explained that the movie isn’t as important to me as you. You,” Harry paused to breathe out, and took the risk of guiding your jaw up to meet your gaze with his soft hand, “you are real Y/N. You’re so important and key to my life and it bloody terrified me, still does actually, to think that you make me feel this way. I want everything with you. Marriage, kids, a home. A life. I was so worried I would screw it all up, though, to the point where I did screw it all up. I lost you and so I lost me. It’s selfish of me to ask whether any part of your heart still wants me, but—”

“Yes.” You quickly interjected before he could say something he’d later regret. “There is, yes.”

“R-really?” He stumbled over his response, not expecting you to react so soon but his words had got to you. His feelings were vulnerable and raw and it reminded you of how much you love him and feel safe with him.

“Why? Would you like me to say different.” You teased.

“No,” Harry rushed, stepping closer towards you, “God now. Stay, please. Forever, if you’ll have me?”

“I can deal with forever.” You leaned up to where his lips were, craving the taste of them against yours so badly. “Can I?” You looked between his lips and his eyes, watching his eyes coo in admiration of you. His arms snaked around your neck and cupped the back of your head, resting his ringed fingers against your skin delicately.

“You don’t have to ask, angel.” And with that you didn’t hesitate to reclaim your clips on his. He tasted as sweet and as soft as you could remember. The hint of mint sweets he kept in his car could be tasted all over his mouth, and he could no doubt taste the vodka on yours. He took no time in rushing to have his tongue exploring your mouth once mouth, biting on your lip when he got the chance to. He wanted you to remember this moment and how much love he has for you, and always will. Just as you do for him.

Hesitantly pulling away you smiled at him cheekily, feeling so much lighter and happier to have him here. With you in his arms so expertly.

“What?” He asked, leaving a quick kiss to your nose, inhaling his scent as he did.

“Just can’t believe you’re here.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb, and he leaned into your touch so comfortably. He had missed you so damn much, and it showed.

“Let you down once before and I wasn’t going to do it again.”

“So you’d have shown up even if I hadn’t?”

“Not happily, but yes.” He laughed thinking about it.

“Why?” You laughed with him.

“I’ve got to make my impression on your family somehow. Need to remind some of them how amazing and beautiful their special Y/N L/N is.”

“Some are going to need a lot more persuading than others.” You sighed, side-frowning over your words.

“No offence, but anyone who doesn’t treat you as a fucking diamond doesn’t deserve you and should watch out for kick up their backside from me.” You laughed over his empty threat and buried your head against his chest, listening to the heartbeat and rumble of laughter that came from within. This moment alone felt like home. Safe and warm.

“I love you, H.”

“Bloody love you too.”

Harry ended up returning to the wedding with you, much to your mothers surprise, and you both enjoyed the celebrations together. You shut yourselves out from everybody and just danced, talked and drank the night away.

You were so in love.

Later, photos got leaked of the wedding and it showed you and Harry dancing away in one of the backgrounds of the photos. It was supposed to be a shot of just the bride and groom, but you two have managed to get caught in it. You looked so caught up in each other that you still weren’t even aware the photo had been taken. You and Harry had determinedly avoided the camera all night, exactly for this reason, but a part of you was kind of happy that this one photo got leaked, because it showed the world that Harry was yours and you were his. It showed that you were together, or back-together as addressed by some FBI fans, and that you were stronger for it.

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zee-stars · 3 years ago

Text

Hello Hello!

this isn't apart of of plot. Just something I wanted to write for my poly!c!karlnapity x reader series.

First kiss

There are two things to write about here.

1. Your first kiss with each individual boy. (For Sap and Quackity I am going to do before and after you started the poly relationship. Y/n didn't kiss Karl until the poly relationship.)

2. That one time you all actually took turns kissing.

So I'm gonna write both. (Dont worry. Its not spicy. Fluffy really)

1st one: first kiss each individual boy.

The first one you kissed was Sapnap.

You were 17 years old. You and him were out by your hangout spot by a lake. It was a late Saturday night and it wasn't to cold. (Yes you remember every detail because you think of that night non stop)

You started to talk about crushes, dates and kisses. He was the one who brought up the fact that he had never kissed anyone.

"Really? You've never kissed anyone? I thought you were a lady's man?" You teased. He shoved you lightly.

"What about you huh? You've ever kissed anyone?" He resorted back.

"No. But at least I don't lie about it!"

"I DIDN'T LIE! I just was making jokes!"

"Of course sappy. Whatever you say."

It was quiet for a bit. Kinda awkward but not at the same time.

"So um..." Sapnap started, "since we've never kissed anyone, maybe... you'd wanna just... get it out of the way? Just to know what it's like?" He asked. When you didn't respond right away he got nervous.

"I mean! Only if you want! I mean we do trust each other enough to like... do that and not like wanna fuck or whatever."

"What are you even saying right now?" You asked.

"I have no clue... but do you..." you sighed at this dorky boy.

"I'm alright with it." You answered.

"Okay... so do I..." you laughed his stayment and noticed how he licked his lips a bit and looked at yours.

You gently put your hand on his neck and leaned in. You lips conected. There was nothing else to it. Your lips just touched and after about 15 seconds you pulled away.

By the look of his face when you pulled away, you would have thought you'd done more then kissing.

"God sap your such a dork."

Next you kissed Quackity when you had started dating.

It had happened on a night where you didn't plan on sleeping and you and him were just watching movies.

"Not gonna lie, this movie kinda sucks." He said.

"Then why'd you pick it?"

"I was hoping it be good. But really it's shit." He grabbed the remote and started to look for something else to watch.

You noticed you were low on snacks in the snack bowl and the bottle of soda was almost empty.

"I'm gonna go get more food and drinks." You said. But then Quackity threw himself on top of you.

"No don't get up! I won't be able to get comfortable again if you do!" He protest.

"But we're gonna run out of food."

"I can starve." You laughed at him and tried to get up but failed.

"Come on, quack, I gotta get up." He grumbled.

"Nooooo."

"Please?" You asked giving him puppy dog eyes, which he pouted at.

"I'll only let you up on one condition!" He said.

"And what could that be?" You asked.

"Give me a kiss." That shocked you. You didn't expect those word to come out of his mouth. He noticed your shocked state and smiled to himself. He thought he had won until you pulled him up towards you and connected your lips together.

It was filled with passion but nothing too extreme. Once you pulled away, you stood and grabbed the snack bowl. It took him a minute to realize what the hell happened.

"Wait no I changed my mind! Get back here and give me more kisses!" He shouted and followed you of the room.

Now you hadn't kissed Karl until the poly relationship started. You had only dreamed of kissing him up to the point it happened.

But when it did, you couldn't wish for anything better.

"Y/n, baby! Come here!" He shouted.

"No need to shout baby, it's just us today." You said. Today Sapnap and Quackity had gone out to do something on the SMP, leaving you can Karl alone for the day.

"I know. But I want to do something!" He said excitedly. It surprised you how often this man could get excited.

"What do you want to do baby?" You asked.

"I wanna make cookies!" He said and tapped the counter excitedly.

You smiled and nodded.

"Let's get the stuff for it."

Soon enough you were mixing stuff in the bowl with a whisk while Karl was getting the tray ready to put the cookies dough on.

While you were putting together the cookies and whatnot, Karl barley moved more then 5 feet from you. It was something you were not expecting when you started the relationship but were definitely prepared for. Considering you were very touch starved (lol same😭). He was always touching you or near you. He always held your hand or wrapped his arms around you whenever he had the change.

Now that the tray was ready you were just waiting for the batter to be done.

*skip to when the cookies were being put in the oven*

Karl safely put the cookies in the oven and set the timer. You were sitting at the table and Karl sat next to you. He put his head on your shoulder and you played with his hair until the timer when off. Once the cookies were out Karl wanted to decorate them.

"We have to wait sweetie, otherwise the frosting will melt on the cookies and it won't look good. He pouted but he perked back up when you help a spoon full of frosting up to his lips. He took some of it and you put the soon in your mouth and ate the rest.

He let out a gasps and you looked at him strangely.

"What?" You asked.

"Nothing it's just..."

"What?" You asked. You didn't know if you should be concerned or not.

"We had an indirect kiss." You wanted to face palm but didn't (dude I swear, even tho me and my gf kiss all the time anytime we indirect kiss they are like that.)

You laugh and shake your head. You turn back to the cookies and mutter something.

"What was that?" Karl asked.

"Nothing."

"What?" He asks with a giggle.

"I said "I could give you a real one." You felt your face grow hotter.

"Oh yeah? What's stopping ya?" Karl laughs and you turn to face him.

You shrug and he leans down. His lips are just as soft as you imagined. You can taste the leftover frosting on his lips and he breaks the kiss with a giggle which you respond to with one of your own.

Your first kiss with Sapnap after the poly relationship started was a bit awkward considering the last time you kissed you were 17.

That day was the anniversary of your first kiss (yes he marked it in his calendar) and he wanted to do something special.

"What could be so special that you had to blindfold me and drag me out somewheres?" You asked holding your hands out in front of you.

"You'll remember when we get there!" He repeated for like the 20th time since you left the house.

"I do not trust you leading me around with me being blindfolded." You said again for the 25th time since you left.

"To be honest, I wouldn't either."

"Sapnap!"

"It's okay! We are almost there... just one more step... okay... sit." You say down and felt grass? He took off the blindfold and you instantly realized where you were.

"Omg sap! This is where we had our first kiss!" You said excitedly. He nodded with a smile.

"Yep, right here in this spot. It's been (insert number of years) since we kissed today!"

"Wow. I can't believe you remembered."

"What can I say. I was like, head over heels for you." You laughed at him. There was silence. But it was a peaceful silence. Until he spoke up.

"So I was wondering. Since we've only kissed once, something something years ago... do you maybe wanna... get it over with? I mean! Only if you want to!" You chucked at his reenactment of what he said during your first kiss.

"I won't mind." He smiled before pulling you in for a kiss. This time you didn't pull away after 15 seconds.

Once you did pull away, he still had that face that made you think you did more then kiss (which you didn't)

You laughed at his face.

"I love you darlin'" he said.

"I love you too Sappy."

Your first kiss with Quackity after the poly relationship started was a lot more chiller then the others. It was a really simple one. Because you had been dating for awhile before the poly relationship started and had kissed frequently.

Quackity had just come downstairs into the kitchen where you were drinking some coffee (or whatever you drink). You sitting on the counter so he stood in between your legs and laid his underbody agaisnt yours.

He was never a morning person and his hair was all over the place. You started to run your hands through it.

"Good morning, Quack." You said.

"Good mornin'" you smiled at his sleepiness. He leaned up and gave you a simple kiss but sapnap walked in during it.

"Where's my mornin' kiss!" He shouted.

"Get over here and I'll give you one!" You said back.

Now you so you know in the lore when karlnapity started and like Quackity kissed karl and sapnap and then sapnap kissed Karl. Well living with Karlnapity, that happens a lot in the house.

Someone will walk in on two people kissing and ask for one and soon everyone's just giving kisses out and whatnot so here is my little writing about it.

Quite often someone walks in on you giving one of the other boys and then asks for a kiss as well (mostly sap) and sometimes it will be a playful fight over who gets to kiss you first or longer (mostly Sap and Quackity) then the other boy will just walk in a kiss you (mostly karl) and the others will be like 😱😡🤨😑. Its honestly funny. He's a little example:

One time you were cooking dinner and the food was in the oven so you were just waiting for it to finish.

Then Quackity walked in.

"Smells great, babe. I can't wait to eat." He gives you a little hug and a kiss. Of course Sapnap sees and then he wants a kiss.

"Give me one!" He complains.

"No, get outta here! I was kissing them first!" Quackity shouts. Soon Quackity and Sapnap and pushing each other and playing fighting. You smile in amusement. Karl walks in and moves to your side. He kisses your cheek.

"Smells great baby. Sorry these boys are interrupting your very amazing cooking."

"Its alright. I'm just waiting for the food to be done cooking in the oven." He shrugs and gives you a kiss on the lips. When Sapnap and Quackity notice they gasps which makes Karl giggle and pull away.

"How dare you just walk into this kitchen and just stell my love from me!?" Quackity jokingly yells at Karl which makes him laugh more.

"Aww, you just want your own loving!" Karl starts to plant kisses all over Quackitys face which makes his scream and laugh. Sapnap walks over to you and finaly get to kiss you.

"I love you Darlin'." He smiles in the kiss.

"I love you too."

#imagines #fiction #fluff #dream smp #dream smp x reader #dreamsmp fanfic #karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs #karlnapity #karlnapity x reader #quackity x reader #quackity #sapnap fanfic #sapnap x reader #sapnap

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technowoah · 4 years ago

Note

Wait imagine a fic where Jack and the reader are long distance or something and when Tubbo and Tommy are doing the man hunt irl the reader surprises Jack.

That would be cute I think 🤔

Just One Livestream

You surprise Jack with a spontaneous visit to the UK, little did you know that they were livestreaming.

- Jack Manifold x gen neutral!reader

- Anon Requested!

⚠︎ swearing, fluff!, not proofread

an// I hope yall enjoy! Much love! And sorry it came out so late I have no inspiration rn but imma get it done! Also I used the difference of American hours to London hours so sorry of

Navigation!

"Love, why are you up early?" Jack asked through the phone.

You two were facetiming eachother as he propped his phone up on his dashboard while he started to drive. It was around 1 am for you and 6 am for Jack. Sadly you two were in a long distance relationship. You had met Jack when you were on a college trip to London to study abroad for 3 weeks. You were sad that you had to leave your home country, but this was a opportunity you couldn't oppose.

During this trip you had found a cafe that you would go to often. The first time you sat at the cafe alone you always noticed it was only you and this other man in the cafe. He was always on his computer and sat by a window, he always came early too, even earlier than you. As the days went on you continued to see him around more and he seemed to notice you as well. You made a note to yourself to always try and show up a tad bit earlier to the cafe to stay around the same time as he did.

You two got to know eachother throughout the three weeks you had to stay in London. The small nods became hellos, and the hellos turned into full on conversation by the window. He had told you his name was Jack Manifold and was kind of surprised when you didn't immediately know who he was. To him it was refreshing not to be immediately noticed based on his appearance. You both had exchanged numbers one day and after each morning you two would text non stop even during your classes. Luckily trying to get to know Jack changed your sleep schedule and because of that you always made it to class on time.

Jack was such an amazing guy to you, but during the first week you had developed a small crush on the man, and he had developed a crush on you too. The second week you two had ventured out onto different territory than the cafe. Jack started to call those small outings after class, dates and you weren't opposed to the dates at all you loved them. The second and third week were mostly dates and the night before you left he asked to be your boyfriend and of course you accepted not knowing the pain of a long distance relationship.

You had to answer his question on why you were up so early. "Yeah- Um, Im up because of you." You chuckled. "You changed my sleep schedule ever since I met you."

"Well you're welcome, because before me I heard you were missing classes." Jack payed attention to the road but still talked to you.

"Because I told you! And I am grateful, but there is nothing to do at one am here." You sighed while you started to walk around your room as you lied to him.

Jack was talking to you while you did a clean sweep around your house to check if you had everything for your trip.

Two weeks ago you had decided to pack your bags and take a trip back to London. Right now your flight will be leaving early in the morning and that's why you are up so early.

You wanted to surprise Jack instead of straight up telling him that you will be in the country. You missed him dearly, and this will be a great way to spend time together instead of seeing eachother across a screen. One of you had to make that sacrafice and that would be you.

While Jack continued to talk you checked everywhere to make sure you arent leaving anything behind.

"What are you doing, darling?" Jack asked and that snapped you out of your trance. "Are you even listening to me? Im hurt." Jack faked being hurt.

You smiled at him and shook your head. "Im sorry I wasn't listening. What were you saying?"

"I was saying, when you were ignoring me, that I'm going to the cafe right now and that we should plan a trip soon. I miss you." Jack confessed and you awed.

"I miss you too Jack! I hopw we can see each other soon." You tried to contain your smile as you hid your surprise.

"Me too."

Your plane finally landed as you let out a sigh of relief. You had collected all of your shit fast so you could finally get off of that horrible plane. Every stereotypical airplane scene happened to you in the hours you were on that plane. You had a child crying behind you with a mother who couldn't keep that child calm, you were sat next to a man who snored the whole ride here and you just felt cramped.

Sadly you couldn't return any of Jack's messages or calls that you saw when you were in the airplane terminal. You tried calling him twice but they both went to voicemail while you rolled your bag through the huge building. Finding yourself outside you ordered an Uber and once you did that your phone began to ring showing Jack's name and picture of you two together on the screen.

You quickly answered the phone. "Hey!"

"Hi!" Jack chuckled. "I called like, 17 times!"

"I know! Im sorry. I was busy." You weren't lying getting a plane and basically leaving early in the morning and arriving in the afternoon in London. "So, what are you doing today?"

"I am hanging out with Tommy and Tubbo at the park! Im picking them up now!" Jack responded and you heard him close his car door.

"Which park?" You asked quickly as you saw your Uber arrive.

Jack started to laugh. "Uh I'll text you the park I guess. Why would you want to know?"

"No reason! I just want to make sure you are safe. Dont make me call 999." You tried to joke around and take the attention off of your question.

"I cant believe you still remember 999." Jack laughed.

"I still do!" You said as you got inside your Uber and gave the driver the directions to your hotel forgetting that Jack was on the other line.

"Wait hotel?" Jack questioned through the phone.

"Hotel? What are you talking about?" You acted oblivious.

"I- I thought you were talking about a hotel." Jack hesitated.

"No!" You tried to cover up your mistake.

"Well Im going to pick up Tommy soon. I'll talk to you later okay? Answer my calls this time!" Jack chuckled.

"I definitely will!"

You had recived the name of the park you were surprising Jack at. You began to walk around the parking lot after you got dropped off and noticed his car sitting there. There were tons of people at the park today and you didn't know where he would be. As you walked on the dirt trails of the park your thoughts took over, what if you made a mistake and should've told Jack that you were here in London and wanted to meet up at the cafe?

You looked at people as they passed by you ok the trail wishing that you had that energy that you had before, thinking that you would find Jack easily when in reality you were in a busy part of the park and he could be anywhere.

When you thought all hope was lost you heard some loud voices on the trail to your right. You were already walking aimlessly through the park and your first instinct was to go left and walk away from the loud voices, but then you heard something.

"Tommy this was a bad idea!"

"I dont think it was!"

You stood in the "intersection" of the dirt trails thinking that you heard those voices right. You rounded the corner and followed right to see Tommy and Jack doubled over, out of breath while Tubbo was still standing up breathing heavily. There were far away from you, but not far away that you couldn't see them clearly.

You began to call out to them. "Tommy! Jack! Tub-"

They quickly turned around and took off running. Confused on why they were doing that you took off running after them trying to tell them to stop. They were yelling and you were yelling and getting weird glances from stangers, and you dont blame them. You're chasing after your boyfriend and his two friends in a quiet public park. You continued to hear their groans of tiredness and their speed started to slow down.

"Jack! Tommy! Wait up!" You yelled out of breath as you slowed down as well.

"We give up! We give up!" Tubbo yelled and came to a complete stop while trying to catch his breath. He turned around to finally face you. "Y/N?!"

"Wait what?!"

"You're here?!" Jack ran up to you and gave you a bone crushing hug, rocking you two back and forth.

"I am! And Im our of breath thanks to you three." You said while still hugging Jack.

"M'sorry I thought you were a fan and I took off and they followed suit I guess." Tommy rubbed his forehead.

"A fan?" You questioned and Tommy and Tubbo lifted their phones up gesturing that they were recording.

"We're doing manhunt in real life, darling." Jack kissed your temple and wrapped his arn around your waist, holding you tight.

"Next time look before you run okay." You smiled still out of breath while kissing Jack's cheek.

"Enough with the PDA!" Tubbo yelled still recording you two.

"We havent even started!" Jack yelled back giving you a huge hug. Jack closed the distance between you two and gave you a passionate kiss on the lips while the two boys groaned in disgust.

"I think that's enough streaming for today boys." Tommy sighed.

"Sorry again, love. That won't happen again."

You and Jack walked hand in hand down the streets of London. People had to walk around you two because you were basically taking up the whole sidewalk and you weren't letting go of his hand anytime soon.

"It better not! I dont want to run after you again." You smiled as you bumped shoulders.

"And you wont have to!" He smiled back at you as you two continued to walk and people dodged the two of you.

"Have you ever thought of moving here?" Jack asked out of nowhere.

"I have actually! On the plane ride here I thought of leaving and moving to London." You thought about it constantly. It was nice being close to Jack and it was a major risk.

"Well wherever you're ready, I'll be here for you." Jack kissed your cheek. "And I wont run away when you come here!"

You two finally made it to your destination which was the cafe you two met at. It was busy at this time because it was the middle of the day and not the beginning. You two entered and took your seats by the window where you two usually sat.

"I love you. I missed this." Jack said.

"I love you too! And of course I missed this. Maybe you can show me more places around London and convince me to stay longer." You gave him a proposal.

"Longer than what?" Jack asked.

"Four weeks." You grinned.

Jack grabbed both of your hands and kissed the back of them. "Hell yeah. I get you for more than four weeks?!"

"That's if you show me places to stay longer." You teased.

"Okay babe. You like ferris wheels?"

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hollandsmushroom · 4 years ago

Text

A Ring and A Chain

Tom Holland x Reader

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff and proposals.

Summary: Tom wants to replace something of yours but comes up with a conclusion so you can keep your old ones as well.

Word Count: 1610

You awoke to a rose on the pillow next to you, the soft smell enchanting your olfactory senses and drawing you from your peaceful sleep, it was in just enough time to catch the shirtless back of your boyfriend slipping out of the room. You're wrapped around the green stem, bringing the flora to your nose and inhaling deeply, the soft petals rubbing against your nose and making you shiver. The touch reminded you of gentle innocence and wandering through stores as a child trying to find the softest item, it was pure and unmeaning yet somehow filled with love. Your fingers pressed into the soft mattress topper, raising your sleep impaired body from the blankets.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, toes curling as the bare soles met the cold wooden floor, a shiver running through your body at the sudden change in air surrounding it, looking longingly at the pile of blankets on the bed before the sound of the kettle in the kitchen pulled you in the direction. The scent of tea and coffee replaced the lingering aroma of roses on your cheeks. You heard Tom before you saw him, the velvety notes of his humming overwhelming your hearing as you leaned against the door frame. Your body was shrouded with one of Tom’s shirt, the one that he had taken off last night before getting in bed, he was wearing nothing but his grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips, the shadow of his hip bone peaking out, making you want to fall to your knees and places feathery kisses along the line of musculature.

His weight shifted from foot to foot, twisting around to face the kitchen island, where two plates with fresh fruit adorning the white porcelain sat. His brown eyes widened, eyebrows raising up his forehead, as he finally became aware of your presence. Your fingers still spinning the rose that had been so kindly placed next to you, he watched your movements as his eyes returned to normal, gaze softening as it went from your hands to your sleepy eyes.

A yawn escaped your lips as you shuffled towards him, he stood still, hands still holding the frying pan that was filled with the pancakes he had lovingly made. Your arms wrapped around his naked torso, nuzzling your cheek against his bare chest, his skin smooth against yours. You huffed contentedly as he set the pan down, his arms encircling you and pulling you tight, lips burying themselves in your hair as he kissed the top of your head.

“I thought you were still asleep” He spoke quietly, eyeing yoru striking features as you continued to cuddle yourself into him.

“Was, but a little cupid woke me up” you giggled, peeling your eyes open to meet his gaze, a smile spreading across your cheeks with how much adoration he was pouring into his stare, a grin quickly spreading to him as well. Leaning in and uniting your lips, it was a soft kiss, yet it still took your breath away. The only noise that filled your ears was the sound of your heart pounding, blood rushing as the world seemed to spin, there was more passion in this one kiss than there had been in any of your other relationships combined. His hands found your cheeks, thumbing over the dips of your orbital bones.

He continued this movement as you pulled apart, foreheads resting against one another as you both tried to catch your breath, everything in you seems to have been poured into that kiss.

“Good morning” he whispered, not wanting to break the serenity that was the atmosphere of the kitsch at the moment.

“Morning” you hum, looking at his eyes in time to catch them cover with a thick layer of fear, pulling back from your embrace, he placed pancakes on the plates and moved them to the other side of the island where two champagne glasses of orange juice sat.

“What is the occasion?” you asked, curious at what made this morning so special.

“Um, let's just eat and then you can see” he assured, kissing your lips tenderly as he moved around the island and pulling out your chair, which you happily accepted, the soft suede of the seat brushing against your bare thighs as you settled in, waiting for Tom to sit down before you started eating.

“How did you sleep?” you spoke before taking your first bite, humming in satisfaction as you rolled your eyes back to show the pleasure this food had caused your taste buds.

“I slept alright, if I’m honest, I just couldn’t get to sleep” he muttered, pulling your hand into his and twisting the rings that sat on your finger around, something he only did when he was really nervous.

“Tom? Are you okay?” you asked, worry overtaking as you turned to face him, he looked terrified, his knee was shaking and he looked like he was about to start sweating.

“Mhmm, I guess I just really need to talk to you about something” his voice was soft, turning his whole body to face you as he slipped something out of his pocket, a small black box.

“Yeah?” you tried to ignore the box, thinking maybe he was upset that an heirloom broke or something but part of you exploded, thinking ‘what if this is what I think it is’.

“Okay, here goes nothing,” he said, more to himself than to you. “Y/n, I love you, and you know that but, something has changed,” he paused, making your heart stop, did he want the small amethyst ring that he had given you years ago back, was he no longer in love with you? Pinky and thumb going to scratch at the metal band that now felt too hot against your skin.

“Last year, when we sat here in the kitchen and we hadn’t slept all night but you decided that you wanted to make breakfast before going to bed, you accidentally dropped the whipped cream on the floor and instead of clean it up or cry you sat down and dipped your strawberries in the part that wasn’t on the floor” he recounted that wild morning where all the both of you did was humor the others eccentricities, tears coming to your eyes in anticipation of what you truly believed to be happening. “I saw you and something in me clicked, all of the other times that we had of just being each other and going on adventures together came back and I realized that there is no one else that I would want to get lemonade with a 2 a.m. after getting late night noodles at that noodle express place in the financial district. Or that I would not have loved the night we found a rave randomly as much as I did if it was with anyone else” Your eyes searched his, tears now streaming down both of your faces. “There is no one in this world I would rather be myself with, you make me feel loved and cherished and like I am perfectly enough at whatever point in time.” he took a deep breath, opening the box to reveal a small ring that was surrounded by something else silver, a chain? “In short, you make my life what I want it to be and I want to spend the rest of my life doing my best to make you feel a fraction of how you make me feel, will you do me the honor and marry me?” he rushed it out but you caught every single word.

“You make me feel everything and more, Tom, of course I will marry you” you sobbed, it was a messy cry, snot on your top lip that you ignored, not caring anymore.

“Oh thank god,” he cried, pressing his lips to yoru in a tearstained kiss, joy radiating off of the both of you. His fingers reader for the small silver chain, placing it in the palm of your open hand making you look at him with eyes that asked what?

“Um, you already have rings on your engagement finger so I figured that you could put them on the chain and wear them around your neck cause they will be replaced” a grin found its place on your lips as he handed you the ring as well.

“I was, uh-hoping that the ring you would wear on you finger would be the engagement ring cause-” you cut off his rambling with your lips, hands wrapping around his neck as you pulled him close once again, you fingers making quick work of removing your other rings before pulling back, showing him your naked finger as you set your other rings aside, the clang of metal on marble beautiful to his ears, a sign of your devotion.

“Would you put it on me?” you questioned, holding the ring he had offered you just moments before out to him.

“Of course” he hummed, taking the ring and sliding it down on your finger before turning around, unclasping the chain and threading it through your past rings.

“Here, let me help you with this as well” his voice was melting you and your throat had closed with emotion, you could only nod. He leaned in, lips on lips again as his hands went around your neck this time, clasping your new jewelry on before pulling back, admiring his now soon to be spouse.

“I love you, future Holland” he mumbled, now fiddling with your engagement ring, but no longer out of anxiety, out of pure excitement.

@thehumanistsdiary

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland fluff #tom holland one shot #tom holland x plus size reader #tom holland au #tom holland x reader #mob!tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #spider man #tom holland murder me #mae writes

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late-to-the-party-81 · 3 years ago

Note

A request where Steve finally proposed to bucky after the war ended against thanos

Time after Time

AN: Here you go, Nonnie, a little 'fix-it' for you.

Not beta'd, dividers by @firefly graphics, mini-mood board by me.

Check out my master list

Pairing(s): Steve x Peggy (unrequited), Steve x Bucky

Word Count: 600

CW: Whiff of angst, Love confessions, Fluff.

There’d barely been any time to breathe. The war was won, Thanos defeated, but the cost had been high. Vision was still dead, Bruce badly injured, Natasha dead, and Tony… Steve shook his head. They’d had such a tempestuous relationship, had barely been able to fix it, and now it was too late.

The funerals had been held, and Steve had stood on the platform, ready to return the stones to when they had got them. He was gonna stay, feeling so tired of it all, ready to run away for the first time in his life. He was going to go find Peggy, tell her he wasn’t dead and they could have a life together.

He’d told Bucky. So glad to have his best guy back and wanting to share his decision. Sure, they’d miss each other, but now Bucky could live his life, unhindered by the past. Sam would take care of him, be the friend he needed, Steve was sure of it.

He’d finally landed in 1946, eager to see Peggy, but when he did he found out she’d moved on. He vaguely recognised the man she was with, a veteran from Azzano. He remembered her words from when he’d seen her in the years before she died. She’d told him that she’d lived her life. Got married to a man she loved.

Steve shook his head. How could he take that away from her? And as he watched her smile and laugh with the man she would go on to marry, he realised two things.

Firstly, she’d never looked at him, quite like that.

Secondly, he realised who had.

For all the years of friendship, for everything they’d shared and done together when they were younger, they’d never openly discussed it, because, before the fall, before the crash, it wouldn’t have been possible.

“Rogers, you stupid idiot,” he berated himself. The light of his understanding shone brightly within him now. He dressed back in the Quantum suit and set the controls.

The world shimmered around him, and when his vision cleared he could see Bruce and Sam’s puzzled faces, looking at the controls and Bucky, walking away from the platform, shoulders slumped, hands in pockets.

Releasing his helmet, he launched himself off the platform.

“Buck! Bucky! Wait!”

His best friend, the love of his life, spun around, mouth hanging open in shock.

“What? Steve! You’re here! I thought… Peggy…”

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist pulling their muscled frames together.

“I was a fool, Bucky. A grade-A, certified, idiot. I was so caught up with what used to be allowed, I didn’t stop to think about what I’m allowed to have in the here and now. Everything I ever wanted was by my side, and here, in the future, I can have it. I… I can have you!”

He suddenly realised that he had made quite a few assumptions and rapidly let go of Bucky and took a small step back.

“I.. err… what I mean is… if you’ll have me?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, before grabbing onto Steve’s shoulders.

“You’ve always had me Stevie. Even when I was gone, you’ve always had me.”

“It’s always been you, Bucky. I was so blind.”

Then Bucky was kissing him, kissing him with passion and need and familiarity. A welcome home, a promise.

They drew back, unheeding of Bruce and Sam’s shocked stares and quiet whispers.

“Buck… I… um… would you marry me?”

“Do you even need to ask, Punk? I’ve already promised you until the end of the line, what did you think I meant?"

“Jerk!”

Steve re-initiated the kiss, and by the time they finished this time they were alone.

No, not alone.

Together.

Tag list: @christywantspizza @jobean12-blog @tinnedowl @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @beelicious-barnes @yarnforbrains @sidepartskinnyjeans @maladaptivexxdaydreaming @krissy25 @bodeckersdiamonddoll @turbolisedcomet @poppunksnowwhite

#steve rogers #steve bucky #bucky barnes #peggy carter #fix it #marvel #late writes #late to the party 81 #endgame fix it

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hotch-stufff · 4 years ago

Note

Hey ❤️ Can you write something with number 10. Undercover/fake relationship, with Gibbs? Maybe add a bit of angst?

Undercover

gif by lucifersagents

Pairing: Gibbs x reader

Warnings!: Angst, undercover work, mentions of death and usual NCIS things, more angst, but fluffy ending

Promt: #10 undercover/fake relationship

--------

"We got a body." Gibbs announced to the team. You groaned. You had just wrapped up a case and almost instantly were diving into the next one.

"Don't murderers ever take a vacation?" You whined to Dinozzo.

"No, but we are. 3 marines found dead with their wives, in Miami, Florida. All were on vacation for their honeymoon." McGee informs the group. Everyone spent a few minute studying the victims.

"You know y/n you kind of look like the wives. And, and Gibbs you kinds resemble the husbands. In ya' know the stone cold marine type way." That earned a hard slap to the back of the head. "I'm just sayin'. We might have an opportunity here."

"You mean undercover?" You asked curiously, glancing at Gibbs. His face remained unwavering.

"Yeah, I mean, you two pretend to be married and we lure the guy to you two instead of some other couple." Dinozzo continued. You had to admit he had a point.

"I agree with Dinozzo, boss. This might just work well enough to distract him from killing another couple." Gibbs nodded slowly, still staring at the file.

"Ok, pack a bag everyone. Me and y/n will be going undercover, the rest of you will be running point from inside with the Miami PD." Gibbs grunts out before heading to the elevator. McGee shot you a look and you just shrugged.

* * *

10 hours later and you were settling into a lush honeymoon sweet in some way overpriced fancy hotel.

"So, Gibbs, how do you want to go about doing this? We need a back story, and I cant keep calling you Gibbs, because well that just doesn't make sense." You were babbling. But you always did when you were nervous. And you were only nervous because you may or may not have developed some feelings for the man standing before you.

"I guess your right." He sat on the edge of the bed. "We met at a small coffee shop, I was on my way to work, you were..." he was struggling to come up with something.

"Most of the wives were also marines, they just served for a much smaller amount of time than their husbands, they all worked on the same bases as their husbands. So I was also on my way to work, coincidently at the same place." He nodded going along with it.

"That works." He paused. "We need names."

"You could probably stick with Jethro Gibbs, and I would be Y/n Gibbs." He raised an eyebrow at you. "What? It would probably be easier just in case we slip up with a name." He couldn't argue there.

"Alright we should probably get some rest. Long day tomorrow." You agreed quickly with him, and you both made your way towards the bed. The bed. The only bed.

"I can sleep on the couch." He offered.

"Really Gibbs? No, we can share. Its a huge bed." And so you shared. He nodded, and swallowed audibly. You both got under the covers on your respective sides. And you heard Gibbs breathing even out signaling that he was asleep. You turned over and saw how serene his faced looked. You fell asleep soon after.

* * *

You awoke the next morning with a foriegn weight on your chest. Opening your eyes slowly you looked down only to find a head of salt and pepper hair. Gibbs. Gibbs was wrapped around ypu like-like a koala. His arms wrapped tightly around your middle, his legs tangled with yours while his head rested on your chest, your hands in his hair. You needed to get out of this bed. You ever so gently removed yourself from his arms, and he whined. He actually whined before falling back asleep.

You made a point not to bring this morning up once he woke up.

* * *

The case had seemed to be going relatively well. That is until you were almost caught following a suspect. The guy was walking back around a corner in an alley, probably because he had dropped his keys. If you didn't do something fast, then you would both be caught and ultimately busted.

All of a sudden Gibbs grabbed you and pressed you into a wall. He reached his hand down around your thigh hoisting it up along his side. And then his lips were on yours. He kissed you like a starved man, your mouths slanted together. He pressed into you more, and with one of his hands on your face and the other on your thigh, you let out a soft moan. Grabbing him by the collar you pulled him in harder and kissed him with even more passion than you thought possible.

The spell was unfortunately broken when the guy grabbed Gibbs by the shoulder yanking him back. He had a gun pointed directly at him.

Although unfortunately for him the rest of the team along with many officers were waiting for him to make his move and he was arrested within seconds.

And you and Gibbs couldn't look each other in the eyes.

* * *

The case cleared up pretty quickly after that, and you and Gibbs headed back to your room to collect your stuff. Once in the room the silence was deafening.

"Listen y/n, I'm sorry about the kiss. I just needed him to be distracted long enough to notice us." He daid a grim look on his face.

"I uh, it's fine." Yous stumbled out.

"You okay y/n?" He asked hesitantly stepping closer to you.

"I just, that seemed a lot more than just an undercover kiss." You paused waiting for a reaction. "It just seemed too real." You added quietly. His face quickly changed to one of almost anger.

"Well, it wasn't real." He snapped.

"Jeez Gibbs, you don't need to get defensive. I was just saying-" he cut you off.

"Listen y/n, that kiss was nothing. The only reason I would ever kiss you is if it pertained to a case!" You felt your eyes tear up as the realization crossed his face at what he just said.

"Wow, um. O-okay. I'm all packed, so I'm just gonna go." The tears were steadily falling down your face now.

"Wait y/n, that's not what I meant." He said, his voice softer now.

"No really sir, its fine. We should probably just remain professional from now on so that no feelings get mixed in with work." You walked to the door. "Goodbye Agent Gibbs." And you slammed the door behind you. Leaving Gibbs in that room by himself wondering what the hell he had just done.

* * *

You had closed yourself off completely from Gibbs in the upcoming weeks. He hated it of course, but he thought it best. He was sure he was falling in love with you, but he couldn't get close. He would only end up hurting you.

You had confided in Ducky one day after work. He had asked you why you had been avoiding Gibbs so much and you told him. He wanted to smack Gibbs. He would settle for giving him a piece of his mind.

So after work he called Gibbs downstairs to his office and shut the door behind him.

"You're an idiot." He scoffed.

"Excuse me?" Gibbs was taken aback by his friends bold words.

"She loves you too. And you're just pushing her away. Listen, not every woman you are with is going to get hurt, and you need y/n. I haven't seen you that happy since, well in a long time." Gibbs sat quietly taking in the words of his colleague.

"I-I didn't know what to do Duck. She was too close and I just... I panicked." He said quietly. Ashamed at the way he had spoken to you.

"Heres what you are going to do..."

* * *

You were sitting at you desk when you received a text from Palmer that you were needed in autopsy, you headed to the elevator and hopped in pressing the floor number. As you reached the floor, the doors slid open, revealing Gibbs, with a bouquet of flowers?

He stepped into the elevator, remaining quiet until it started moving. He pulled the emergency button and the elevator came to a halt. He turned slowly to face you.

"Y/n, you know I'm not good with words, and you know how much I hate apologizing. But I'm sorry for what I said and how I acted." He handed you the flowers. You took them giving him a skeptical look.

"Thank you?" You were very confused at where this was going.

"I think I'm in love with you, and that scares the hell out of me." He paused. "When I kissed you it was the best kiss I had ever had and I just didn't want to let you get close. I was scared." You knew it took a lot for him to say all of that to you, so you leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

"Thank you." You smiled at him. "I love you too you idiot." He chuckled at your words.

"I guess I am pretty stupid." You nodded.

"Yeah, but I know how you can make it up to me." You said a mischievous glint in your eyes. And boy did he make it up to you.

--------

Let me know what you think about this one! I loved this. I know its short, but I hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading! Requests are still open, so keep them coming! If you would like an idea of what to request here is my promt list, and if you would like to read more of my work, here is my masterlist.

#imagine #gibbs x reader #angst #fluff #jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #gibbs imagine #ncis gibbs #ducky #plamer #dinozzo #mcgee #ncis #ncis imagine

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years ago

Text

TO LOVE AND BELOVED - Part Five (Harry Styles)

a/n: ahh idk why but writing this part took me forever! but its finally here and i can’t wait to see your thoughts on it! i was debating for a long time if part 5 should be the last one, but then i decided to add another part, bc there are two more things i want to include in the story and i couldn’t squeeze them into this part, it’s already the longest so far, so we have one more part left of the story! also, a little warning that part 6 might take a little longer than the prev parts bc im a little behind with my schedule but it’ll try my best!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce, sexual content

word count: 12k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

You’ve been feeling like a teenager sneaking around her parents these past weeks. Only that you’re an adult and the parent you are trying to keep your secret romance hidden from is a four year old little girl.

Your birthday was a turning point in your evolving relationship with Harry. Like a wall has been brought down and he finally started reaching out to you. It feels like with every passing day you’re getting closer to him and you can see the progress he’s been making thanks to his therapy sessions and how much he is trying to make a change himself as well.

Stolen kisses and tiny touches have been a usual in your every days whenever Izzy was out of sight for the shortest second. You’ve realized that Harry is an affectionate person, he likes to keep you close and he never fails to bring passion into the tiniest kisses.

With Izzy around 24/7 it’s been hard to find time when it’s just the two of you, but you’ve been waking up early in the morning just to spend that twenty minutes alone with Harry while he drinks his coffee. Sometimes you just sit in silence, trying to wake up for the day ahead of you but sometimes he talks your ears off about anything and everything. In the evening, when Izzy is already sleeping the two of you usually wind off together in the living room or watch a movie in the entertainment room, just enjoying some alone time. It’s not much, but more than nothing and you’ve grown very fond of these little moments with him.

Nothing more has happened than just kissing. Despite the progress Harry has made so far you can tell he still has quite a few conflicts buried deep inside him and you definitely don’t want to rush him into anything he is not ready for. Some cuddling on the couch or short but passionate make out sessions in a corner while Izzy is not paying attention, you haven’t gone further than this.

Now it’s the last day before Izzy leaves to Harry’s mum for the week. He is dropping her off Sunday afternoon and it will leave the two of you alone for seven full days. Well, Harry still has to work during the day, but from the moment he’ll get home, it’s just gonna be you and him.

You had to make a few phone calls so you’ve been locked in your room for a while now. When you come down you find your favorite father-daughter duo on the couch, some kind of Barbie movie playing on the TV, but Izzy is busy with something else. She’s got her water based flooring pens scattered around her, Harry’s tattooed arm laying across her lap as she is coloring the patterns as if it was her favorite coloring book. Before they could notice you, you run back to your room and grab your polaroid camera and returning you snap a picture of the adorable scene. The shutter of the camera makes Harry’s head snap in your way, a smile tugging on his lips.

“Hey,” he softly greets you. You put the camera and the photo aside to the cupboard near you before joining them on the couch.

“Hi Y/N! Look!” Izzy beams happily, pointing at Harry’s ship tattoo that is now fully colored with yellows, pinks and blues.

“It looks better this way,” you smirk down at her before your eyes meet with Harry’s over her head, smiling at you softly.

Making yourself comfortable next to them, you watch Izzy work on more of his tattoos and you find it such a heartwarming scene, you want to remember it forever. Harry Styles, such an influential, successful and serious businessman, sitting on the couch in his loungewear while his daughter is using his tattooed skin as her personal coloring book. He really is a wonderful human being and the best dad to his daughter.

“Y/N, do you have any tattoos?” Izzy asks, turning to you with curious eyes.

“I actually do,” you answer and you see Harry’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“You really do?” he asks, his head resting on the back of the couch, turned to face you.

“Yeah,” you nod with a soft chuckle.

“Where?” Izzy asks perking up at the new information.

“Um, it’s right here,” you tell her pointing at the side of your hips, covered with your sweatpants.

“Can I color them?” she asks innocently, but Harry is quick to react.

“Izzy, you’re being a little too nosy,” he warns her as always, and she looks at you with a pouty look.

“It’s fine. Um, yeah, you can color it,” you nod.

Sliding lower on the couch you roll down the waistband of your pants until the tattoo is revealed on the side. You catch Harry’s eyes wander over the skin you are now showing and you can see a slight blush tinting his cheeks. He hasn’t seen this part of your body uncovered yet, he hasn’t even seen you in a bathing suit so far so it’s quite the new thing.

(reference for the tattoo)

The tattoo on your side is a simple yet meaningful one, dedicated to the special bond you and Trevor share. It’s a minimalistic yet beautiful piece of two koi fishes swimming in a circle, one is left blank as while the other one is black so their formation resembles the yin-yang symbol. You got it when you turned twenty, when Trevor was just in middle school, but he promised you he would get the same design when he turns eighteen that will happen in the fall.

“That looks beautiful,” Harry breathes out with a shy smile and you notice how he doesn’t ask about the meaning behind it. Not because he is not curious but because he is insanely respectful and he doesn’t want to ask something that’s too personal.

“Thanks,” you smile at him as Izzy grabs her pens and starts coloring the blank fish.

The rest of the day goes by uneventfully, Harry is clearly trying to spend as much time with Izzy as possible before her week with his mother, but you also notice that he seems to be keeping something away from you, like he is trying to bring up something but he is not entirely sure how to start the conversation.

It’s not until Izzy is put to bed that he joins you on the couch, turning to you with a serious expression on his handsome face.

“What’s up?” you ask with a soft chuckle.

“I was thinking…”

“I could see that,” you tease him, giving his knee a playful squeeze. “I’m listening.”

“Actually there are two things I wanted to talk to you about. I’m not sure which one to ask first.” He purses his lips before sighing and moving his eyes to meet your curious gaze. “So we’re gonna be alone for the next week.”

“Mhm.”

“And I thought that… if you want to, but we don’t have to, it was just an idea—so feel free to—“

“Harry,” you cut his stuttering off, moving closer with a reassuring smile. You caress the side of his face and you notice how you lean into your touch, breathing out through his nose. “Don’t be nervous, alright? Just tell me what’s been on your mind.”

“Would you go out on a date with me?” he then asks and it’s the purest thing you’ve ever seen and heard from him. The hopeful but still nervous look in his eyes makes him appear like a little boy who is asking out his first crush in middle school, afraid of rejection, when that’s the last thing he has to think about when it comes to you, but it’s still cute.

“I would love to,” you smile at him and leaning closer you peck his lips softly. “And what’s the other thing you wanted to ask?”

“Well, I’m driving Izzy over to my mum’s early in the morning and I’m staying for lunch and… if you don’t feel like it’s too much, you could… maybe come with us.”

“You want me to meet your mum?” you ask surprised.

“Well, she wants to meet you as well, but I want you to meet her, yes,” he admits with a nervous chuckle. “Gemma has told her about you and my sister likes to be nosy so she might have added a little spice into the story about us when nothing was really going on.”

“Oh my, what does she think?” you ask with wide eyes.

“Nothing bad, don’t worry,” he assures you quickly. “She just made it seem like we are… dating and all,” he adds with a nervous smile. “But I told her that it’s… I mean that we are not there… yet.”

“Oh, okay. Well, if you really want me there, I would love to go with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Would love to meet your mum.”

“I was afraid you’d find it a little early for this,” he admits truthfully and you can see that rationality in his thought. “We haven’t really… discussed what we are and I didn’t want to put the pressure on you.”

“Well, do you want to talk about us?” you ask softly, giving him the chance to decline if he feels like the conversation might be a little too much for him.

“I do, but I’m not sure… what to say,” he hums, knitting his eyebrows together. Last time I had this talk I was in my early twenties and I don’t even know how to start,” he chuckles shaking his head.

“Okay, then let’s just agree on some things,” you suggest and he eyes you curiously. “Neither of us is seeing anyone else, right?”

“Is that even a question in my situation?” he snorts, making a joke out of his issues clearly and you’re happy he is able to take it so lighthearted.

“Just clearing the air,” you chuckle. “So we are…exclusive.”

“Seems like it,” he nods.

“And you just asked me out on a date,” you point another detail out.

“I did. And you said yes,” he smiles, an excited shine in his eyes glimmering through his green irises.

“Yeah. So we can say we are dating? Seeing each other?” Harry chews on the terms you offered, tastes them before nodding slowly.

“I guess we could say that.”

“Okay. So… that’s what we are,” you smile at him, giving his knee another squeeze. This time, his hand finds yours and he runs his thumb across your knuckles.

“I think… I’m okay with that,” he breathes out and though it’s seemingly such an insignificant thing, you know how huge steps he has just taken forward.

“I liked the blue one better. With the white sweater,” Heather hums, watching you through the video call. You have your phone propped up on your dresser as you’re trying to figure out what to wear today.

Though you seemed completely unbothered last night when Harry invited you along with them, but now you can feel the slight panic. It’s not even because you and Harry are a thing now, you’d feel this way if you met his mother just as Izzy’s nanny. Grandmothers can be so protective over their grandchildren, you’ve met with quite a few problematic ones while you were working at the daycare and you just want Anne to like you, to trust you with Izzy as much as Harry does.

“Okay, blue it is then,” you sigh, pulling the yellow sundress off of yourself before putting the blue one back with a white sweater.

“So you guys are now official?” Heather grins at you through the screen. “Meeting his mother and all that?”

“Define being official,” you chuckle softly.

“Like, boyfriend-girlfriend?”

“Not yet. But we agreed to be exclusively dating.”

“I still can’t fucking believe that you’re scoring the hottest dad I’ve ever seen. You lucky bitch,” she sighs, sipping on her morning coffee.

“Me neither,” you scoff.

“I’m pretty sure if the mothers who got you fired knew, they would explode. Basically every woman was in love with the man and now you are the lucky woman actually getting him.”

“I guess this is karma for what they did,” you chuckle shrugging. “Alright, I gotta go, because we are leaving soon, but I’ll talk to you soon.”

“You better be! I want a detailed essay about how it went!” she grins, kissing the camera.

“Alright, bye!” you smile before ending the call.

When you get downstairs, Harry and Izzy are already down there, Harry is zipping up her bag while she is dancing around humming to herself.

“Baby, your backpack is still in your room. Can you please get it?” Harry asks her, Izzy nods and runs towards you, stopping in front of you.

“Hi Y/N! I like your dress!” she beams at you.

“Hi! Well thank you!” you smile at her before she runs past you up the stairs. “Hey,” you greet Harry and his eyes snap up to you, his pink lips stretching into a warm smile as he leans closer and kisses your cheek sweetly.

“Hi. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. So, any tips for meeting your mum for the first time?” you ask, fidgeting with your fingers nervously. Harry reaches out and takes your hands between his so he stops the motion.

“You don’t need tips. I know my mum will like you, she is already so excited to meet you, so don’t worry.”

“If you say so,” you breathe out.

Harry puts Izzy’s stuff in the Rover and soon buckles her into her seat before the three of you hit the road. Harry has a whole playlist for Izzy’s favorite songs so you obviously listen to that along with Izzy’s performance of all the songs, filled with misheard lyrics, but that’s what makes it even better. The car ride is about three hours, which is not that horrible. You need just one bathroom break sometime in the middle and Izzy sleeps through the last hour in the car, allowing the two of you to finally listen to music that’s not from a kids’ show.

“Do you have a song request?” you smile over at him, scrolling through his phone since it’s the one connected to the car, but he has given you permission to play whatever you like.

“Not really.”

“You don’t have songs you like to listen to in the car?”

“Not specifically. Do you?”

“Oh, I have a whole playlist for songs to blast in the car,” you chuckle.

“Really? And what songs are on it?”

“Well, I can just show you.”

You search up your user on Spotify and find the playlist in talk before putting it on shuffle. As the first song starts to play, you peek over at him to see his reaction and you spot the smirk on his lips.

“Black Eyed Peas?” he asks glancing at you shortly.

“Yeah, you don’t like them?” you smirk at him.

“I do, I just didn’t think you listen to them,” he admits with a soft chuckle.

“Are you kidding me? They give me the biggest nostalgia! I listened to them so much as a teenager.”

“So teenage Y/N gave a concert in her bedroom, singing I Gotta Feeling?” he teases you grinning.

“Not just a concert, a whole world tour.”

There’s a short silence, just the two of you listening to the song, you watch the trees and fields rush by you as you drive down the country road. The song changes to another one and you’ve already forgotten about what you talked about, but apparently not Harry.

“What were you like as a teenager?” he asks. You turn to face him and your eyes meet for a second.

“Um, like a normal teenager,” you shrug, not sure what to say.

“There’s no such thing as a normal teenager,” Harry smiles. “What did you do, what were your favorite things?”

“I was… pretty plain, if I might say. I wasn’t a rebel or too much of a geek either. I had like three good friends, we used to hang out a lot by the little lake near our neighborhood, that was like our spot. I liked going on hikes and I watched a lot of documentaries,” you admit with a small smile.

“What kind?”

“I don’t know, anything that was on,” you shrug. “My mom had this phase where she was trying to act like she was just like all the other mom’s from my school, but they were all at least a decade older than her. She was trying to prove that she was this mature, very serious woman who had her shit together and all that.”

“And she didn’t?” Harry asks peeking at you shortly.

“I mean, she did. She turned thirty when I was twelve. Most women barely just got married and started their family at that age but she had been married for eight years and had a middle schooler and a baby already. She really was mature but I could tell that she felt like she lost her twenties because of… me.”

Sighing you think back to the years when you often felt like a burden to your mom. She gave up a lot of things just to give you the life she imagined for you. She worked her ass off to raise you and later Trevor as well, have a career and do all the works around the house. Your dad was working a lot of night shifts, there were entire weeks when you barely even saw him. You don’t blame him, he was trying to provide for his family, but it’s pretty clear he and your mother grew cold over the years and it had a huge part in it.

“Do you… blame yourself for it?” Harry asks softly.

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not like I had anything to do with being born,” you chuckle. “I just didn’t like seeing my mom struggle so much. So when Trevor was born I was trying to take over a lot of tasks around the house and with him as well. I babysat him a lot, took care of him in the mornings, I picked him up from daycare and later from school… I tried to make it easier for my parents.”

“So this is why you grew so close with him?”

“I guess so,” you nod. “I mean, I surely spent the most time with him,” you add with a short chuckle.

“And do you think this is why you’re so good with kids?”

“What is this, a therapy session?” you ask arching an eyebrow at him, but he just rolls his eyes.

“Just… trying to get to know you. Is that a problem?”

“No, I just… I’m not used to talking about myself so much. It’s been quite a few years since I’ve been in this… talking stage,” you admit with a sigh. “But to answer your question, it might have had some impact on me. I mean, I loved taking care of Trevor. It’s like I had my own baby doll, only that it wasn’t just a toy, it was a real baby I could play with.”

“Did you play dress up with him?” Harry smirks at you.

“I did,” you admit laughing. “I used to dress him as a princess a lot and he seemed to like it! My dad wasn’t really a fan of it.”

For the rest of the ride you listen to your playlist and talk about not just your but Harry’s past too. He tells you about his friends, what he was like in school and the mischiefs he did growing up, that drove his mum crazy sometimes. As you get to his hometown and he points out different places he used to go to when he was younger, you feel so much closer to him, like you’ve just gotten to see another piece of him that was hidden before.

He pulls up to the driveway of a simple townhouse and as you get out of the car you see the front door open and a woman rushes out, squealing in excitement as she runs up to Harry and hugs him tightly.

“Finally! I was starting to get worried!” she breathes out, rocking the two of them to left and right.

“Mum, don’t be dramatic. I texted you when we left and we got here perfectly in time,” Harry chuckles, holding his mum tight.

“You barely just arrived and you’re already picking on me? Typical,” Anne rolls her eyes, letting go of him. You round the car, feeling nervous to meet her. When her eyes finally fall on you, her smile grows even wider as she takes a step closer to you. “And you must be Y/N! It’s so nice to meet you!” she beams, pulling you into a warm hug as well.

“Nice to meet you too,” you chuckle, hugging her back.

“I’m Anne, but I listen to all versions of mum and grandma,” she tells you chuckling.

“Alright, noted,” you nod smiling.

Harry opens the car door of the backseat and unbuckles Izzy who has already woken up from her little nap and the moment her feet are on the ground she runs up to Anne.

“Grams!” She giggles before throwing herself into Anne’s arms who picks her up happily.

“Hi baby, you grew so much! I missed you!” she sighs as the little girl cuddles into her neck.

“Missed you too, Grams. I brought my new toys, do you want to play with them?”

“Of course! We’ll have all the time to play this week,” Anne smiles down at her. “Alright, come on in. Lunch is almost ready.”

Harry grabs Izzy’s things from the car and you all head inside. The house smells good from the cooking food in the kitchen and it’s such a cozy home, you can definitely see Harry growing up here. Above the fireplace in the living room there are a bunch of photos framed on the wall, most of them are from Harry and Gemma, but there are some more of other relatives as well, cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents. It seems like Harry has a big family.

Harry unpacks Izzy’s stuff in her room that used to be Gemma’s apparently, he is telling Anne all about everything she needs to know about Izzy’s routines and she is listening patiently, though you’re sure she is more than capable of taking care of her. After all, she raised two amazing children already.

While Izzy shows Anne all her toys she’s brought with herself, Harry takes your hand and pulls you out of the room just to go into another one. Walking in you immediately realize that it must have been his once upon a time.

“You know, I can see your younger version in here, the one I saw in the photos downstairs,” you smirk at him, looking around. There are some old posters and pictures still littering the walls, stickers are covering the side of his wardrobe and dresser, some of them are partially ripped off already, he probably tried to get rid of them once he got older, but miserably failed.

“Yeah? I was pretty cute, right?” he smirks, so full of himself.

“I liked the curly Justin Bieber hairstyle,” you tease him and he gives you an “are you for real?!” look to which you just start laughing.

“Justin Bieber had nothing on me.”

“Yeah, sure,” you laugh before he grabs your hand and pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you. “Your mum is in the next room,” you whisper against his lips as he leans down, teasing you with them just lingering on yours.

“So what? You never sneaked around your parents before?” he smirks down at you.

“I did,” you admit.

“Oh, nasty,” he comments before finally kissing you. However it doesn’t last long, because you hear footsteps coming from outside so you’re quick to move away from each other, just in time when Anne walks in.

“Lunch will be ready in a few, would you two mind setting the table?” she smiles, oblivious what was happening just a moment ago.

“Sure,” Harry nods, rubbing his nose as his other hand finds your waist and he ushers you out of the room.

Izzy helps Anne in the kitchen while you and Harry take care of the table. When everything is done you all sit down and start the feast Anne was so kind to make for you. It doesn’t take long to see the snickering but loving dynamic between Harry and his mother. Anne likes to pick on her son, call him out for basically anything and though Harry talks back, he mostly just lets her tear him to pieces. With love, of course.

“Izzy, please don’t get whipped cream all over the place!” Harry sighs when it’s time for dessert. Anne has made apple pie, one of Izzy’s favorites and she is going generous with the cream on top of her slice.

“You didn’t have problem getting cream all over you when we were making cupcakes, daddy!” Izzy sasses back, making both you and Harry drop your jaws while Anne starts laughing at her boldness.

“That was an entirely different situation, Izzy,” Harry shakes his head as he helps her with the scream before passing it over to you.

“Grams, you should have been there! Daddy, Y/N and I made a mess in the kitchen, but daddy started it!” Izzy giggles, digging into the pie.

“Is that so?” Anne smirks.

“We were just… playing,” Harry explains.

“Oh, I know how you can get when you’re just playing,” Anne chuckles. “Y/N, how do you put up with two kids in the house?”

“I used to deal with fifteen at the same time, so two is not a trouble,” you smirk at Harry who just rolls his eyes, but you see the hiding little smile on his lips.

After lunch Izzy insists on showing you the dollhouse Anne has set up for her in the backyard while Harry helps his mum with the cleaning up.

“We both know your sister likes to exaggerate stories, so I didn’t believe everything she said about you and Y/N,” Anne speaks up as she is washing the dishes and Harry is on drying duty.

“I’m glad you don’t fall for Gemma’s vivid imagination.”

“But there’s one thing she got right.”

“And what would that be?” Anne turns the tap off as she faces Harry, sighing in relief as she smiles at him.

“That you look happy.”

Harry opens his mouth to say something, but then just closes it. He does feel happy, even if he is still struggling to accept it. Anne dries her hands and reaching up she cups Harry’s face in her palms.

“Baby, I haven’t seen you like this for a long time. And I know you think you don’t deserve to feel this way, but you do. And Y/N makes you happy, clearly.”

“Mum…”

“No, honey, just… listen to me, okay?” she asks and he nods, giving all his attention to his mother. “It broke my heart to see you so… lost after what happened to Maggie. And I know that it was the hardest thing you ever had to go through, but you need to move on. She would want you to do the same thing.”

“How do you know, mum? You didn’t even like Maggie when I first brought her home,” Harry points out mumbling under his breath.

“That doesn’t change the way you felt about her. I know you loved her and I would have never wanted anything to happen to her. She made you happy and that’s all that mattered to me,” she smiles with a tired sigh. “And I just want you to be happy again. Whatever you two have going on… don’t let go of it, alright? She is making you happy and you deserve that.”

Harry doesn’t know what to say so he just nods before Anne pulls him into a tight, motherly hug that he returns gladly.

“I’m trying, mum. I’m trying,” he whispers into her hair, giving her a squeeze before letting go of her.

You stay a little longer, Anne makes you tea and Harry soaks in the last minutes with Izzy before he is forced to be away from her. You know he is looking forward to spending some time away from his daddy duties, but it’s clear that he’ll miss her terribly too.

“Alright, baby. Be good and I’ll call Grams to talk to you every day, okay?” Harry tells her, giving her one last hug. Izzy wraps her arms around his neck tightly, her face squished into his neck.

“Okay, daddy. I love you,” she mumbles with a pouty look.

“I love you too. Have a good time with Grams.”

“Thank you for everything, Anne,” you tell her, giving her a quick hug.

“Oh, you’re welcome. It was so nice to meet you,” she smiles, feeling a little touched by the goodbye. “Come back soon!”

“I will, thank you.” “Bye mum, call me if anything comes up,” Harry tells her, hugging her as well.

“We’ll be alright, don’t worry. Tell Mitch and Sarah that I wish them the best!” Anne smiles as you and Harry head out the door.

“I will! Bye!”

Izzy stands at the front door with Anne, waving after you as Harry backs out of the driveway and eventually, they are out of your sight.

Harry falls silent and you don’t have to be a genius to know that he is already missing Izzy. You can imagine what it feels like to not see her every day like he always does, when he is so used to having her around all the time.

“You alright?” you softly ask, giving his arm a short squeeze.

“Yeah, it’s just… It’s the third time I’m doing this, but it never gets easier. The first year we did it I ended up driving up here four times that week,” he admits with a chuckle.

“Nothing to be ashamed of. It’s normal to miss her.”

“I know, it just makes me emotional,” he admits, flashing you a short smile before he turns his gaze back at the road ahead of him.

The drive back home is a lot quieter than the way to Anne’s. You play some music again and Harry hums to it sometimes, but he is mostly just deep in his thoughts and you don’t want to bother him, knowing well he probably needs some time to settle with the thought of an entire week without Izzy.

You get some takeout for dinner before arriving home and eat together before putting on a movie to watch in the entertainment room. One movie turns into another and before you could realize it, you’re dosed off on the comfy couch, cuddled to Harry’s side near midnight.

When you wake up something entirely different is playing on the screen since the original movie has ended long ago. Harry is passed out, his head resting against the back of the couch, one arm curled around your shoulders while the other is resting on his stomach. Rubbing your eyes you check the time and decide it’s better if you both just go to bed before you end up spending the night on the couch.

“Hey… H,” you softly caress his cheek before you brush his unruly curls back from his forehead. He scrunches his nose adorably before his eyes flutter open, taking in his surroundings. “We fell asleep. Why don’t we call it a night?” you ask in a soft whisper. Harry sighs, nodding his head, squeezing you to his side before his arm falls from around your shoulders. You peck his cheek before pushing yourself up from the couch. He shuts the TV off and the two of you head upstairs. For your surprise, his hand finds yours on the way up the stairs, lacing his fingers together with yours.

You pad your way up to the second floor and walking past Izzy’s room Harry stops for just a heartbeat before he follows you down the hallway. When you’re about to let go of his hand to head into your own bedroom, Harry pulls you back gently, making you look at him with slight confusion.

“Do you… Maybe you could… sleep at mine, if you want to? Just a thought…” he breathes out, clearly nervous to speak what’s been on his mind.

“I would love to, but only if you’re sure about it.”

“I’m sure. It would be nice to… wake up next to you,” he adds with a shy smile and you notice how he didn’t say waking up next to anyone, he wants you to be there.

“Alright. Why don’t we both just go and shower separately and then I’ll come back to yours?” you offer, giving his hand a squeeze. Harry nods and leaning down he places a chaste kiss to your lips before letting go of your hand, going your separate ways.

After doing your usual nighttime routine you put on a pair of soft pajama pants and a simple shirt before heading back to Harry’s bedroom. The door is slightly open, the lights are still on. You knock on the door before pushing it open carefully. You’ve only been in here a handful of times and it’s strange to come here with the intention of staying.

Harry is standing by his dresser in a pair of sweatpants and a white shirt, his hair is slightly damp from his shower. As his eyes fall on your figure a small smile tugs on his lips before he glances towards the bed.

“Which… which side do you like sleeping on?” he asks and you can’t hold back a chuckle as you walk to the side that’s clearly not used by him usually.

Harry huffs with a smile before going to his side. You put your phone to the nightstand before getting under the covers, making yourself comfortable in Harry’s silky sheets. He sits to the edge of the bed, checks something on his phone before dropping it to his nightstand and he then joins you under the covers.

It’s a tiny bit awkward at first, neither of you really finding your place in such a new situation, so at first you just lie on your sides facing each other. Harry is clearly about to say something, he is just looking for the right words, so you give him all the time he needs.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he softly speaks up. “Not just because… I would be awfully lonely now without Izzy,” he adds with a cheeky chuckle. “I meant it generally. I’m really happy that you’re here.”

“I’m happy to be here too. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else,” you smile at him. Breathing out through his nose he closes his eyes for a few seconds before his green irises meet yours again. Leaning closer he kisses you softly, just another way to tell you the same thing he just said with his words a moment ago. Pulling back he settles his head on the pillow and he pulls you into his arms, making you cuddle to his side similar to the way you fell asleep on the couch earlier.

“Good night, Y/N,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Good night, Harry,” you hum back, nuzzling your face into his shoulder, making yourself comfortable in his strong arms.

Harry grumbles lowly when his phone’s alarm goes off in the morning. He might be off from his daddy duties this week, but he is still the CEO of his company and work is calling his name. Sometime during the night the two of you got tangled up in each other. Unlike last night, now Harry is the one snuggled up to you, his heavy arm lying across your stomach, his legs mingled with yours under the sheets as you gently scratch his scalp with one hand, running the other up and down his arm across your stomach. You’re not gonna lie, waking up in a bed with Harry is far more blissful and satisfying than you imagined. Even early in the morning he has such an aura that sweeps you off your feet, the man was surely crafted by the gods.

“You’re gonna be late,” you hum, eyes still closed when he hits the snooze button and snuggles back to you.

“It’s set to when I have to get Izzy ready. We still have some time,” he mumbles against the fabric of your shirt.

You stay in bed a little longer until it really is time to get up. Harry’s morning form is so soft yet still breathtaking, even with his hair tousled and his puffy eyes, he still looks gorgeous and you find it slightly unfair how little effort the man needs to be this perfect.

Harry heads to take a shower and in the meantime you decide to start making breakfast while the coffee is brewing.

“Oh you shouldn’t have,” Harry breathes out with a thankful smile when he arrives downstairs and sees the almost ready breakfast and the smell of coffee hits his nose.

“I have all the time in the world this week,” you chuckle as you fill a plate with eggs and veggies before you slide it over to him on the kitchen island. You fix a plate for yourself as well and join him on the stool beside him.

“So… are you still up for the date?” Harry asks shyly, glancing over at you.

“Didn’t really change my mind since yesterday,” you chuckle.

“Would you be up to do it today?”

“So, eager, huh?” you tease him, nudging him with your shoulder and he just shyly shrugs, trying to push down his smile. “Today works fine for me. What do you have in mind?”

“I’m not ruining the surprise,” he smirks at you, sipping on his coffee.

“Alright, then just tell me the dress code.”

“Wear that lilac dress you wore to that birthday party the other week.”

You know exactly what dress he is talking about, but it stuns you that he actually remembers what you wore two weeks ago. He only saw you for a few minutes before you left, yet he still remembered the dress.

“Alright,” you smile to yourself before turning back to your breakfast.

Though you have a few extra sessions booked for the week, your Monday stayed empty and without Izzy roaming around the house you have to realize that you can easily get bored without her. You got so used to being with her all day long that now being home on your own is so weird.

You spend the first half of the day lounging at the pool, something you’ve been dying to do, but you were too busy with a certain little girl. Then you have a nice lunch and after reading the book you’ve been putting away for weeks, you realize that you’ve run out of things to do. So you text Trevor if he wants a ride home after school and of course he does, so after fixing yourself up you drive down to his school.

“Hi there, how was your day?” you ask when he sits into the car, throwing his backpack to the backseat before he buckles himself up as you back out of the parking spot.

“Fantastic, as always!” he fake cheers, making you laugh.

“Want to get ice-cream?”

“You know I always want ice-cream,” he snorts smirking at you.

You haven’t met Trevor ever since things become kind of… romantic between you and Harry, and you didn’t want to tell him over the phone, so now is the perfect time to break him the news. When the two of you are sitting on the terrace of your favorite ice-cream place, your paper cup filled with chocolate and strawberry ice-cream while he chose mango and cookie dough, you finally start the conversation.

“So, I have news for you.”

“Oh my God,” he breathes out, closing his eyes for a second. “Are you leaving the country?”

“What? No! Why do you think that?”

“I don’t know, but last time you said you had news for me you moved out from home. Figured it might be something similar,” he shrugs, returning to his ice-cream.

“Well, no, I’m not leaving the country.”

“Okay, then what is it?”

“I’m kind of… dating Harry. You know, my boss.” You have no idea why you felt the need to add the last part when he has already met him, but you feel a bit nervous. Trevor is like your best friend and he had a bad feeling about Keith when you started dating him, but you ignored it. If he has a similar feeling about Harry now, you are definitely considering them this time.

“Oh!” his eyebrows shoot up. “What do you mean kind of?”

“Well, we haven’t had our first date yet, it’s happening tonight, but things have… changed.”

“So you slept with him?”

“No, I haven’t,” you chuckle nervously. “We kissed. A few times and… we talked about where it’s heading and we both think it’s going to turn into something… more serious.”

“That’s great!” he smiles at you and it seems completely genuine. “See, I told you it’s gonna happen sooner or later,” he smirks coyly, before he licks his spoon off.

“You were just drawing random assumptions because of his looks and wealth, Trevor. But it’s not about that.”

“Oh, I know you’re not a gold digger,” he teases you, making you roll your eyes at him. “So your first date is tonight? What are you guys doing?”

“I don’t know, he didn’t tell me,” you shrug with a small smile.

“Mysterious,” Trevor wiggles his eyebrows at you. “So he is finally ready to get back on the dating scene, huh?”

“Um, he is working on it. It’s a little hard for him, but he’s been changing for the better.” “That’s great. I’m happy for you,” he smiles at you. “Really, you deserve it after that asshole.”

“Yeah, I hope it’ll go well,” you smile back at him with a sigh before you return to your ice-cream.

After dropping Trevor off at one of his friends you head back home. For your surprise, Harry’s car is already parked on the driveway with another one that doesn’t belong to him when you pull up and walking in you find him with Niall in the kitchen.

“Oh, hi boys!” you greet them.

“Y/N! You are stunning as always!” Niall beams, pulling you into a tight hug right away.

“Thanks,” you chuckle patting his back. “What are you guys up to?”

They share a look and it tells you right away you are not supposed to know whatever they were talking about so you just nod smiling.

“Alright, got it,” you chuckle.

“How was your day?” Harry asks, hoping to change the subject smoothly.

“Great! Met with Trevor, just dropped him off.”

“Oh, how is he doing?”

“He is fine, struggling a little with math lately, but he is doing great,” you chuckle.

“So you have a brother. Do you happen to have a sister, maybe?” Niall asks with a coy smile and while Harry just rolls his eyes at his friend, you can’t help but laugh.

“Sorry, no,” you tell him the bad news. “But… I have a good friend and I think you’d like her.”

“A friend? Do you have a picture of her?” Niall beams, already excited about it. Pulling your phone out you show him a picture of you and Heather so he can have a good look at her. You actually think that Heather and Niall would be a good match, she might even be the girl Niall would give up his bachelor life finally.

“When are we having a double date?” he simply asks, making you and Harry laugh at the same time.

“I’ll see what I can do for you.” You let the boys finish whatever they were doing before you arrived so you go to your room, unwinding a little before you have to start getting ready for the date. Around five there’s a soft knock on your door and as you call out, Harry pops his head inside.

“Hi,” he smiles nervously as the rest of his body walks into your sight.

“Hi!” you smile back, putting your book to the side.

“I just realized I never told you the time when you should be ready tonight,” he chuckles nervously. “Is six good for you?”

“Yeah, that’s great.”

“Alright. Then… see you soon, I guess,” he smiles nodding before he walks out of your room. You can’t help a small chuckle at how nervous he seems about tonight, as if he wasn’t still sure about your feelings for him, when you’ve made it clearer than daylight.

You get the best kind of jitters while getting ready for the date. It’s like you’re in high school again and your crush has finally asked you out so you want to look your best. Since Harry already suggested you what to wear, you don’t have to spend an hour standing in your closet, trying to find the right choice. For the makeup you go for a little smokey look and you do a loose bun styles for your hair, remembering the words your mother always told you when you were a teenager.

“A woman’s greatest and most secret weapon is her neck. Men go crazy if you show them your neck and they don’t even realize it!”

You spray some perfume on yourself and put on a pair of nude heels before packing your necessities into a purse that matches your outfit. You finish with everything just in time, a soft knock signaling that Harry has returned. Checking yourself one last time in the mirror you open the door and reveal him standing at the door, wearing a pair of fitted purple dress pants with a crispy shirt on, matching your dress perfectly. And the cherry on top is the bouquet of red roses in his hands.

“Hi,” he breathes out with a nervous smile and his gaze travels down your figure, a blush tinting his cheeks.

“Hi!”

“You look… beautiful,” he smiles shyly and your heart is fluttering in your chest. It’s really happening, you are going on a date with Harry!

“Thank you,” you chuckle softly.

“These are for you. I know it’s weird that I’m picking you up from your bedroom and I’m not giving you this at the front door, but…” he chuckles as he hands you the flowers.

“It’s really nice, thank you,” you smile, taking the flowers before moving into the bedroom to put them in a vase quickly. Harry takes just about two steps into the room and stops with his hands hidden in his pockets as he eyes every movement of yours before you finish with the flowers and let him know that you’re ready to do. He holds out his hand and you take it gladly as you head out of the house.

He doesn’t tell you where you’re going, not even when you try to annoy him and bully him into finally hinting something, but you should have known that he wouldn’t break. He has a four year old daughter who is constantly bugging him, he has endless patience.

When he parks down in front of a modern apartment complex you kind of get really confused, because nothing around seems like the location you’d choose for a date.

“Are you gonna kidnap me and keep me hostage in one of the apartments here?” you ask him with narrowed eyes as the two of you head inside, taking the elevator up.

“It’s not kidnapping, you came willingly,” he smirks down at you.

“That I did.”

When you’re at one of the apartments you are really lost about what he had planned and he finally breaks your suffering and tells you what’s gonna happen as he keys the two of you into the apartment.

“This is Niall’s place, he let us use it tonight. My mum always says that cooking together is a good first date, because food brings people together and you can easily get to know each other,” he explains as you walk into the modern, but definitely very manly home. “I didn’t want to do it at home, because we are always there, so… Niall was nice enough to lend us his place for our date.”

You see that there are two full grocery bags on the kitchen counter and the table is already set for two, you wonder if Harry was here earlier, or Niall did the work for him. Either way, it’s such a thoughtful gesture and a perfect first date.

“Where is he tonight?” you ask with a small smile.

“He is visiting his mother, for a change,” Harry chuckles, knowing well you thought he would be out with a woman probably. “He said he won’t be back until later tomorrow so we can even sleep here, but I thought it would be better if we went home.”

“So what are we making?” you ask curiously as you peek into one of the grocery bags.

“We are going to attempt to make gnocchi with some killer tomato sauce. And brownies for dessert,” he adds with a small smile.

“That sounds great, what can I help with?”

“Let me just quickly pack everything out and then we have to peel the potatoes, yeah?”

“Alright,” you nod, your gaze wandering over to the spacious living room. “Can I look around?”

“Sure,” he nods while he is already elbows deep in one of the bags.

Niall’s place looks like it came right off the pages of an interior design magazine, the furnishing is modern and more on the dark color range, but not too much to make it appear depressing. Right next to his huge TV there’s a floor to ceiling bookcase filled with books mostly about music and art and you realize you don’t even know what Niall does for a living. It just never came up between his heavy flirting sessions.

“I never asked, but what does Niall do?” you ask calling out to Harry.

“Oh, he is a freelancer music producer. Tried to offer him a permanent spot at my company, but he prefers his freedom, like with everything else in his life,” he chuckles. “But he is a good one, we used to make music together when we were younger.”

Just as he says that, you spot a picture of the two of them on the shelves and your lips part in a bit of a shock when you realize that Harry used to have long hair. Leaning closer you inspect the photo better and you feel like you’re looking at two entirely different people. Niall’s hair was bleached blonde which is already enough to make him like another version of himself, but Harry is definitely the biggest shocker. He was rocking some loose shirt with the top buttons left undone, his necklace with the cross pendant peeking out and though the photo ends somewhere above his knees, you can tell that he is wearing skinny jeans, something you never thought you would ever see him in.

“You had long hair?” you ask joining him in the kitchen. Harry’s eyes shoot up to him, then he looks in the direction of the living room, a smile tugging on his lips as he probably remembers what photo you must have just seen.

“Uh, yeah. Yes I did, when I was about 21 or 22.”

“I could hardly believe that was you in the picture, with the long locks and the skinny jeans,” you tease him.

“Yeah, I was a lot different then, but after all, it’s been an entire decade since then,” he sniggles.

“Why did you cut it?”

“Um, I was pretty new in the business back then and had a few assholes telling me that it’s not too masculine and all that. It was a time when I cared more about others’ opinion than I should have so I kind of gave in and cut it.”

“I’m sorry they ruined it for you. But I’m glad you don’t care about others that much now,” you smile at him softly. Harry’s eyes flicker down to his painted nails and ring-clad fingers and you just know what he is about to ask before he even speaks up.

“Does it… bother you? That I paint my nails and stuff?”

“No,” you shake your head confidently. “Not at all. I mean, I never saw you without them, but at this point I think it wouldn’t even feel right,” you add with a small laugh that brings Harry’s smile back as well. Stepping closer you kiss his shoulder softly before turning your focus on the food in front of you. “So, let’s peel these bad boys!”

It’s the first time you and Harry actually work together in the kitchen for more than just five minutes. He is always in control at home, taking over everything with Izzy and you know it’s a good bonding time for them, so you never even tried to push your way into it without their invitation. But now the bonding is all about you and him and so far you’ve been a great team. The cutest thing is that he brought you matching aprons to protect your clothes and you look like you are in some cooking show for sure.

You keep asking questions from each other while working on the food, Harry asks you some more about your childhood and teenage years and he shares stories from college where he had this friend group of five. Niall was part of the group as well and he said he is still in touch with the other boys, but they all do very different things now, the other three are already fathers themselves and live far away, so they don’t get to see each other that much.

You are making the little dumplings while Harry is on duty for cooking them, relentlessly fishing them out of the boiling water once they swim up to the top. When that’s done, Harry starts making the sauce while you take care of the brownies. It all works out well, everything gets done easily and while the dessert is in the oven you start eating what you just created.

“Mm, this sauce is really good!” you hum when you take the first bite.

“It’s my mum’s recipe,” he smiles proudly.

At the beginning of the evening you could tell that he felt nervous, not essentially about being with you, but probably because of the thought of going on a date in general. But as time passed by and he got more and more comfortable in the situation, you could see him loosen up and calm his nerves, so now that you are eating the dinner you made together and drinking a glass of fine wine, talking about anything and everything, you feel like he is actually enjoying something he was probably terrified from before.

When the brownies are done the two of you take advantage of the nice evening weather and Niall’s amazing balcony, moving out to the lounge chairs, munching on the dessert with the skyline of the city in front of you. At one point you start playing a game of would you rather, and after a while you ask each other the most random things, cracking each other up continuously. You don’t even realize and it’s already past ten, you completely talked the evening away, but you don’t regret any of it.

You clean up Niall’s place, leaving it just the way you got it, putting some leftovers into his fridge for him as a thank you for lending you his place before you head out.

Harry keeps a hand on you at all times on the way home, he is either holding your hand over the console, or rests his palm on your thigh above your knee, but either way, he just keeps the physical touch up always. Not that you mind, you are doing kind of the same, enjoying his closeness.

Arriving home you can feel a kind of tension growing, but not a bad kind. You want him. Your desire to go further than just kissing has grown immensely tonight, but you have no idea how he feels about taking it further and you don’t want to push him past his boundaries.

“Want to… sleep with me again?” he shyly asks when you’re going up the stairs.

“Yeah, I would love that,” you smile at him, giving him a quick peck on his cheek.

When you part ways in the hallway he probably expects you to do your night time routine, but you have other plans. Grabbing your polaroid camera you pad your way over to his room, knocking on the door, hoping he is not in the shower yet. When he calls out for you, he is standing at his dresser, the first few buttons of his shirt are already undone, but he is still dressed.

“I just thought that… we could snap a picture as a nice memento of our first date,” you shyly explain to him, holding the camera up.

“Oh, yeah! Okay, how do you... how should we…?” he looks around the room and you step to his dresser, placing the camera to the top of it.

“It’s got a timer,” you explain as you set it up and tell him where to stand so you can check if he is in the frame. When it’s all set, you glance back at him. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” he nods shyly. You push the button and step back to him. “What should we…” he starts, but you already know what you want the picture to be like.

Cupping his face in your hands you pull him down and kiss him sweetly, for the first time tonight. You’ve noticed he hasn’t tried to kiss you all night, being a gentleman, but you’ve been craving it since he showed up at your door with the roses.

He hesitates for a moment, but eventually curls his arms around you, kissing you back softly. The timer goes off and the flash indicates that the photo has been taken. Pulling back you smile at him before taking the photo from the camera, setting it to the side to develop. Harry steps behind you, his arms coming to curl around your waist and you turn in his hold to face him.

“Hi,” you smile at him giddily. “Thanks for today.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” he answers softly, making your heart flutter. You press your lips at his, kissing him hard and passionate, like you wanted all evening. He is quick to return the kiss with just as much passion as you put into it, his hands finding your waist as he slowly pulls you with him until the back of his legs hit the bed. He sits down and pulls you with him so you sit on his lap straddling him, never breaking the kiss as you settle in his arms, his hands roaming up and down your back.

Your kisses move from his delicious lips to his chiseled jawline and down his neck, your fingers working on the buttons of his dress shirt. You want him, you need him, he is all you can think about and the taste of his skin on your tongue is making you lose your mind.

His hands move up your thighs right to your bum, giving it a good squeeze, making you moan against the crook of his neck.

“Fuck,” he growls, throwing the two of you to the bed, getting on top of you before his lips attack yours, kissing you with a demand heatedly. His lips move smoothly against yours, devouring you with every suck and lick, making you dizzy in the head with such little effort.

He starts kissing down your neck, through your collarbone and whatever is showing in your dress on your chest. Your fingers lace through his messy curls, keeping him close to you as you try to control your moans and gasps. His fingers hook under the thin straps of your dress and he is about to pull them down when he stops, breathing heavily against your skin.

Harry lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours as he is panting through his parted lips and you cup his cheeks in your hands.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Talk to me,” you tell him softly, knowing well his mind is probably racing right now.

“I just…” he starts quietly. “I haven’t been with anyone since… Maggie,” he admits in a whisper and your gaze softens on him.

“And I haven’t been with anyone since Keith,” you admit truthfully. “We don’t have to do anything tonight. I’m fine with just sleeping if that’s all you want to do.”

“No, I want to… I want to do things, I just… I’m not used to it, I guess,” he breathes out as you run your fingers through his hair.

“It’s okay. We can take it slow. Whatever you feel comfortable with,” you assure him pecking his lips softly.

“Is it… Is it okay if we just… touch?” He is clearly feeling a bit embarrassed to ask, but you will not make him feel bad for asking for whatever he wants. Pulling him down for another kiss you smile up at him.

“Touching is perfect. It’s all up to you,” you tell him and see the gratitude in his eyes right away.

Removing yourself off of his lap you climb back on the bed, pulling him with you until he is holding himself up above you. Your eyes meet for a second again before leaning down he kisses you slowly, taking his time with you. He is holding himself up on one arm while his other hand finds your hip, gently squeezing it when his tongue slides into your mouth through the kiss. Your hands move down his chest and you start unbuttoning his shirt until it falls open and he shimmies it off with a soft chuckle.

“Let’s get rid of the dress too,” you breathe out, reaching down for the hem of your dress, pulling it up until it’s off, leaving you in only your underwear. You’re wearing a matching set with a strapless bra and as you lie back on the bed Harry’s eyes basically devour you, his gaze running up and down your body several times.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N,” he breathes out before leaning down and kissing you again, his hand cupping your side before wandering over to your stomach and up to your chest. He runs his hand over your chest, gently squeezing it, making you moan into the kiss.

“And you’re wearing too much clothes,” you grin as you reach down and start undoing his purple pants you ogled him quite often tonight. Harry chuckles as he holds himself up for you to work the button and the zipper on his pants before he takes over the task and gets rid of them himself, leaving him in only his boxer briefs and you have to hold yourself back from gasping when you see the growing bulge between his legs.

You don’t get to eye him for too long, because he is back to kissing you, his body pressing up against yours as you let your hands roam his strong back, his skin burning under your touch. His lips travel down the line of your neck to your chest and his hand snakes behind your back, but he stops before he could do anything with the clasp of your bra. Glancing up at you he gives you a questioning glare, asking for your permission.

“You can take it off,” you softly tell him nodding. His fingers are quick to undo it and a moment later you’re lying with a bare chest underneath him. His hand moves to your chest again and he kneads your breast again, this time with nothing between your skin and his palm. You whimper under his touch, you’ve been so starved to be touched this way and now that it’s happening, it’s hard to control yourself, but Harry doesn’t seem to mind seeing you react to what he is doing.

His lips return to your mouth and while he kisses you with so much passion, he slowly lays himself down next to you, so you’re facing each other sideways on the bed. He pulls you closer to him until you’re flushed against his hard chest and while your hand roams around his shoulders and back, his palm slides down your spine, over your waist until he calms bum, pushing you even closer to him. His clothed erection presses against your thigh and you can’t help but whimper his name at the feeling.

His kisses slow down and his touch loosens on you until he pulls back, seemingly just for air, but you can tell his head is starting to race again, spiraling thoughts taking over his mind.

“Do you want me to take over control?” you softly ask him, pushing his unruly curls out of his forehead. His gaze softens and he nods shortly with gratefulness lacing through his look.

He watches you intently as you push yourself up into a sitting position, he rolls to his back and keeps his gaze on you as you hook your fingers into your panties, getting rid of them before doing the same for him with his boxers. He lifts his hips up as you pull down the elastic material, revealing his hard cock to your greedy eyes. You want nothing more than to taste him, but he said he just wants to touch so you don’t try to overstep his limits, leaving this desire of yours to another time. Instead, you lean down, capturing his lips in a sweet, reassuring kiss that everything is going fine to calm his nerves as much as you can, while you place your palm to his lower stomach, moving down slowly until you find his hard cock, wrapping your hand around his length and giving it a few gentle stroke.

“Fuck,” he breathes out against your parted lips and you can’t push a smile down.

You kiss his lips, his cheeks, his jawline, everywhere around his face while you keep pumping him, spreading some of his precum down his length to help your hand move smoother. Your actions awaken something in him, he grabs your face in both his hands, kissing you hard before he pushes you to your back, becoming the one on top. He parts your legs with pushing a knee between your thighs and while you keep up with your motions, he gets down to action as well. One of his large palms runs down your abdomen, stroking your lower belly gently before it moves to your inner thigh, spreading you even more for him before you feel his touch on your heated and dripping wet core. First, he just teasingly runs two fingers through your folds, testing how wet you are and when he realizes that you are more than ready to whatever he has planned, he moves his thumb to your sensitive clit, drawing circles with the pad of his finger, sending a wave of pleasure up your spine immediately.

“Harry!” you moan his name, running your thumb over the head of his cock that makes him gasp and stop his motions for a moment before he returns to pleasuring you.

He buckles his hips into your touch while his fingers move down from your clit until he is teasing your entrance, just circling around it but not pushing into you. Rolling your hips you signal him that you want the teasing to end and he luckily gets the hint, slowly sliding two fingers inside you, curling them gently and it makes your eyes roll back immediately. He rests his forehead on your shoulder as he starts moving his fingers in and out of you while you try your best to keep up your pumping motion as well, moving your other hand to his balls to give him some of that extra pleasure and he seems to be liking what you’re doing, because your name keeps falling from his lips as keeps fingering you, curling his digits just the right way inside you from time to time.

“Fuck, Y/N, I won’t last long,” he pants, his lips brushing against your neck before he kisses the soft skin above your collarbone.

“It’s alright. Just want you to feel good, H,” you assure him, though you’re getting closer to your release as well.

“Are you close?” he asks out of breath, still holding himself up above you, leaning onto his other arm next to your head.

“Yeah, don’t stop,” you nod, turning your head so your lips could meet for a kiss again.

You can tell he is trying hard to hold himself back, to stretch it out as long as he can. A torturous look tugs on his face and you kiss his temple, wanting nothing more than to see him finally reach the peak.

“Let go, H. It’s alright,” you whisper against his skin and he whines at your words before you feel his cock jerk in your hand and he cums under your touch.

You keep stroking him as he rides his high, gasping and panting your name while he spills his semen onto your naked stomach. His fingers stopped moving inside you as he found his relief, but as soon as you feel him recovering from his orgasm, he goes right back to where he left it, desperately wanting to pleasure you as well.

“Harry!” you moan when he hits a specific spot inside you, tingling your nerves just right, your hands come to clasp onto his broad shoulders.

“Cum for me, babe. Let me see you feel good,” he whispers before his lips occupy your mouth again, kissing you with so much passion and vigor, your senses are starting to overload.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” you gasp feeling your toes curl and Harry picks his pace up, his thumb coming in contact with your clit as he tries to make you reach your high.

And then it finally happens. You stop breathing for a moment, the intensity of it washing over your whole body. It’s been so long since you felt this good with anyone, and just the thought of doing this with Harry probably adds a lot to the equation.

He slows his fingers down, but makes sure to curl them inside you every time he pumps them in, and you repeat his name over and over again until you finally catch your breath. Your gaze meets his, and you see a happy and satisfied shine in his green irises as he leans down and kisses you sweetly, pulling his fingers out of you gently.

“M’gonna get a towel,” he murmurs, pecking your lips one last time before he gets up from the bed and walks into the bathroom while you lie on his bed, totally gone and worn out from your orgasm. Harry comes back with a damp washcloth and cleans up the mess he made on you before gently moving to between your legs, taking such good care of you. He drops the cloth to the floor, not wanting to leave the bed again as he pulls the covers over your bodies, pulling you into his arms.

“How are you feeling?” you softly ask, pecking his toned chest.

“I’m good.”

Lifting your head you search for his eyes, wanting to make sure he didn’t regret any of it, but he seems calm and rested for a change. Smiling up at him you push yourself up a little so you can connect your lips before you snuggle back to his side and let yourself slowly drift off to sleep, listening to his steady heartbeat under your face.

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

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after-witch · 4 years ago

Text

Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?

Word Count: 8955

notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters

Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.

That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:

“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”

It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?

You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.

He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”

His response is so blasé that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.

“No, I… already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.

He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.

“So… see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.

He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.

But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.

So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.

A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.

"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."

You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.

But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.

The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.

"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."

The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.

"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"

Fucking. Ransom.

"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.

You have to call Ransom.

You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.

You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.

You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.

"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"

"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"

His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.

"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."

He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"

You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."

"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"

He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."

"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.

Fucking. Ransom.

You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.

"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”

"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."

You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.

The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.

But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.

You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.

Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit.

The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”

So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.

The only one who’d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend?

But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.

The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.

Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave. You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.

Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.

You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.

You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.

“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”

You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.

So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”

“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”

You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.

Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.

You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.

The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.

“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”

You don’t get a chance to finish.

“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”

You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.

“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”

“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”

Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”

“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”

You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.

“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”

He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”

He hangs up. Your hands shake.

You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.

You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.

Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.

Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.

But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.

The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.

Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.

Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.

Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.

Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is… off.

No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right?

Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?

You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.

A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.

There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”

Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.

“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.

Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.

He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.

“We have to let you go.”

The words don’t register.

“Go where?”

It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.

“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”

Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.

Ransom was here.

“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”

You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.

You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up… you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?

“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.

Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”

He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

You don’t have much effort left.

Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.

You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.

To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.

The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.

You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.

But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.

The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”

“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”

“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”

You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”

The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.

“Is there another card you can give us?”

“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”

“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”

You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.

“Yes.”

You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.

The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.

You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”

The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that… you don’t know.

Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.

You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.

At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.

You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.

But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.

Your stuff is gone. All of it.

You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.

“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”

You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.

At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.

You don’t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.

You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.

All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.

You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.

You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.

Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.

Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.

For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.

But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.

You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.

But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.

“What the fuck?”

He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.

You text him: What??

He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P

It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.

His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.

“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”

“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”

You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.

“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”

He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”

You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.

His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.

“Why do you think?”

To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?

“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”

You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”

He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.

“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”

He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though…. “

He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.

It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.

His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.

Being with Ransom Drysdale was like… like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.

Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.

Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.

“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.

You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.

But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.

You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.

Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.

“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.

His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees…”

You feel your eyes practically bugging out.

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”

Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.

You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.

He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.

Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful. He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”

You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.

“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.

“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”

#ransom drysdale x reader #yandere ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #knives out #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes

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kthynes · 4 years ago

Text

the caller you have reached (chris evans x reader)

pairing: chris evans x fem!reader

summary: chris was trying to drunkenly call the woman he loved and wanted to get back with but instead he reaches you, a shrink.

warning: swearing (sailor level), brief mentions of mental health

**IMPORTANT disclaimer: I won't be dabbling into the hard hitting topics of mental health in this short only because I'm not a certified health professional and so I can't be providing a written, unbiased, often characterized diagnosis towards any sort of mental health disorder because really, those types of sensitivities need proper care and output. With that being said, I do want to emphasize the notions of seeking help and not being afraid to seek help when needed. It's hard, but we all fight a battle and no battle is big or small or better or worse.

If my followers or readers do feel the need to privately chat with me, I'm here and I can you lend you an ear. Otherwise let's be kind and uplift another while we can. No harm in doing good and being better, that's for sure!

-end rant-

This short is dedicated to the following lovelies:

@princess-evans-addict

@mrs-djokovic

@slut-for-chris-evans

@saltyflowermakertaco

@bitchyslut99

@patzammit

@itskikiyooo

@maximeevansblog

Being a working adult is dreadful but the work you do is the most fulfilling kind of anarchy. You are a therapist, you work to heal and you work together with people who willingly reach out to you and your facility of care. There is that balance, the altering nuances in between that allows you to do what you do best. You advocate for good prosperity of mental health and accolade of teachable moments that fosters a safe space for your clients, not patients, but the people who deserve to be heard and not be medically categorized.

Your salubrious passion keeps you grounded. In your lifetime, you've seen the imperial impacts of poor mental health and it has been a detrimental drive in how you retreat and give back to a small found community.

"Okay." You exhale to yourself while leafing through another client chart. You're working off the clock, stuck in the renaissance of your homey office space while the outside world turns pitch black.

In the appropriate fields you jot down important takeaways from your last sit in session with heavy concertation and reasoning, you try to congregate a treatment plan all before you cellphone cries for you in venturous fashion.

"Hello?" You answer without checking the caller ID, tucking the device between your ear and shoulder so that way you could work and talk.

"Jenny!" The man boisterously shouts. "Jenny baby please talk to me! Let me make it up to you, let's just do this right, please. I'm fucked up here."

"I'm sorry but you have the wrong number." You infringe sounding like the posh, automated answering machine lady.

"Oh what the fuck Jenny — oh cah'mon don't do that, don't be like that baby." You re-verify a local number and it doesn't belong to anyone you know of. So you wonder who this man is but choose not to press further instead you tell him what is right from the knowing wrong.

"I'm not Jenny."

"Seriously?" He yells, forcing you to hold the phone away from your ear. "That can't be... This is—" He recites the number that is similar to yours but the last two digits are off.

"You got 42, not 53." It's an easy mistake to recall, a swipe of a drunken thumb could've mixed that up, so this time around, you're forgiving. Not that it happens often.

"Oh no. That's—" The mystery man trails, something about his voice discerns you, it's familiar but in a hindbrain way that you can't put a finger on. "Fuuuuuuuck."

"Wait hold on, hold up, is this Jenny's assistant, Nina?" You exhale sharply sometimes it takes more than one try and a side of convincing to get your point across and your passiveness was certainly to blame.

"No I'm not her assistant either."

"Then who the hell are you?" He exasperates. You make the snide mistake of telling him your name and he buffers for a bit.

"Oh. So you really aren't anyone of my concern then?"

"No." You mildly retort. "I wouldn't want to be anyways."

"Okay well I'm not sorry then because I'm here trying to reach my girlfriend and I can't get to her because I have you on the line being a smartass." With that accent of his you can tell he's a patriotic Bostonian. One of your own kind and that furloughs your need to engage in this mindless drivel, it wouldn't get you or him anywhere. At least that's what you tell yourself before shutting him down.

"Well then maybe you should learn to listen first, how about that?" You snap, dropping your pen before you note down angry nonsense into your actual work.

"Hey nowwww!" He yells as if he's trying to be Hank Kinsley.

"It's clear that you're drunk."

He brushes you off on the other end, enigmatic in what he wants you to know. "This is Chris Evans, you're talking to Chris-motherfucking-Evans, you hear?"

"I do now." You say tersely.

"Good." He huffs. "Good... Cause you know I'm in the middle of bumfuck nowhere and this is what I get. This is what I seemingly deserve, god you women I swear..."

Your face changes. You don't agree to be a lending ear but somehow Chris forces you to hear him out.

"I told her Y/N. I TOLD her that I wasn't ready to take the next step but that doesn't mean that I don't want to be with her. And now she throws it back in my face by getting with some other guy she once dated back in high school. And somehow, I'm supposed to be ok with it and move on, as she tells me. How the hell am I supposed to do that, huh?"

"I, um, I don't know what to tell you." You sigh somberly.

"Of course you don't!" His Boston twang begins to nerve you as there some remitting frequency of it. Hearing him obnoxiously go off, reminds you of all your shrewd New England exes who were his exact counterpart when soused. A ludicrous memory that you relive again with time and perfect harmony.

"Listen lady all I'm saying is that I fucked up. I know I did alright? I mean it doesn't take much denominational math and the plot of Lost in Translation to get that. I get it!"

Jesus. You whisper the lords name in vain as you lean your forehead against the palm of your hand while your elbow rested on top of the desk.

"So, let me get this straight, you think yelling at a random woman will help get further?" You question a little acutely for his liking.

"I don't know but it sure as hell takes off the heat, sweetheart." Something about a man calling you sweetheart grinds your gears and now your molars.

"Okay, alright, let's talk." You begin, sitting up a bit and tearing out a blank page from your memo pad; you were doing a late night consultation, a small hash out.

"Schuwaaaaa." Chris enunciates the word sure and to much of his mayhem, he’s sprawled out on the curbside, somewhere in the nowhere land of L.A. He contented but also upset and you were simply crashing his little pity party.

"What is it that you want from Jenny?" You professionally prod. "How about we start there."

"Wooooah, what is that we're doing here?” Chris gets mildly defensive with you. “I dunno you like that. If we're gonna talk then you'll have to get through my publicist first because right now I plead the fifth.”

You exhale a deep and fulsome breath. No one troubles you like him. It's sanctimoniously unnerving.

"I'm a shrink, my job isn’t meant to incriminate my clients well-being, or anyone else’s for that matter.” You address calmly. “So, if you do require some solicited advice then we can keep this call under strict confidence. You have my word, Mr. Evans and the paperwork that will follow shortly after this call.”

Silence. There is some shocking silence which is brief before you're catapulted with disbelief and more cackles. "Holy mother fucking shit. You're kidding me?"

"I can run you by my credentials if you’d like?” You mention stiffly.

"God I’ve reached a cuckoo hotline!" Wrong. That's a horrible thing to say and you'd think a man like him would've been more sensitive about his choice of words, inebriated or not.

"Far from it."

"Tell me something, alright? How many grown, adult men come crying to you?" Chris is edging with curiosity even though his eyes are betrayingly reddened after crying into a bottle of Dewars 18. He doesn't make that known to you and you never cared to ask.

"Enough to know that they cry." You simply state.

"Huh. So this is just another Tuesday for you then.” Chris scoff, the bottle making it to his lips and then swishing back down again.

"Comes with the territory except I don't tolerate drunkenness." You motely add. "Can you keep the bottle aside for the time being? Just until we're done here."

"That's understandable and oh yeah sure, sure, I won't touch it." You can hear the glass bottle 'clink' when coming into contact with the pavement.

"Now tell me about Jenny." You softly inquire.

"What do you wanna know? How we fuck or how we met?" Chris giggles like a naughty school yard boy.

"How did you two meet?" You slam the words urgently, nearly spelling out the cause.

"Oh! Oh. We met on the job." Chris chuckles punitively.

"Okay and did you guys connect instantly or was there a slow build up?" You involuntarily took notes for any PR rep of his that wanted solid evidence that would preside this call, cover your bases and your poor ass along with it.

"Instantly. Our chemistry read was off the charts." He explains with a slight hiccup. "Sorry."

"Great. So it was more so a work relationship that later grew into something more correct?"

"Pretty much."

"So when did you start developing feelings for her?"

"Um I'd say..." Chris tucks his chin, burps and then excuses himself before continuing. "Just before we wrapped up filming. But then I think somewhere in between all that I realized that she was my kind of girl, my... better half."

"And what made you come to that realization?"

"Well for one she has this infectious laugh that would have you laughing with her, there's that sound of beauty and pureness to it. And then with that, there were all the little things she'd do for me that made me think, like damn she's the one, she's it for me and that for better or for worse, I'd need her more than she'd ever need me."

Chris gets sad and you feel for him. Your pen stops moving when you were about to prescribe him some mind memory exercises. He was human. Humans hurt. Humans make mistakes. Humans stray but they also love. That's all Chris did. He loved with all of his heart to not expect the same love in return.

"You know Chris, we don't always get the love we deserve and sometimes its sucks. Sometimes you wanna kick it back with a bottle of Dewars 18 and shake your fists in the air." Chris quietly perks up at your choice of alcohol that you didn't know he was forcefully downing. He fashions a small half smile that you don't see but hear faintly. "But there's also a time and a place and things happen, people come apart, people get together, people do people and there's that fine line of letting life run its uneven course."

"I mean you sometimes have to not be okay to be okay again and I know that from my many years of helpful healing. It gets okay, never fully better and I think that's just how it is. You acknowledge your pain, your trauma and then you go on while being mindful of that transition."

"Wow."

"Hey, um, look, I actually have to get going. But if you can, just down the rest of that bottle and get yourself home."

"Are you sure?" Chris gawks.

"I mean you were already halfway through and it's not like I can physically stop you, right? And besides this is what I'm prescribing to you. I want you to acknowledge your pain, drink away your sorrows and then smash that bottle so you can be relieved from that trauma and hurt. After that you need to fix up and start new, have a mature conversation with her, if you can and then have your feet hitting the ground again. Don't fall into the routine of heartbreak even if it becomes too hard, you hear me?"

"Loud and clear."

"Good." You sniff and start to put things away. "I know you're a good guy Chris, from how you are on TV and in interviews, I'm amazed by how articulate you are. You have the right mindset so I have no doubts that you'll fall back in any way. But if you do, please don't hesitate to reach out, I might have to hand you off to another cohort but nonetheless it can be worked out even if it does feel like you might be sparring on your own. You'll get the help you need."

"Great, thanks." Chris responds in his conscious state of thought. He feels pathetic with himself and that doesn't have you galling over the fact, instead you let him be.

"Do you need me to order you an Uber? Cab? Call a friend for ya?" You laugh easily and Chris hears it clearly, smiling in return.

"An Uber would be nice. I'll try to share you my location."

"Sure, on me and that'd be great."

"Thanks."

"No problem... And your ride should be here in two minutes, just look out for Raul in black Elantra." You inform him after checking your phone.

"Nice."

"You have a goodnight now Chris."

"You too." The line cuts and you're given a piece of your life back. You gather your belongings, flip off the light switch and make your way home. There's some truth and some brokenness in every situation. You knew Chris was going to be OK even if he didn't consult you afterwards. For you, there was no need. He's a smart man and he proves this over a prolonged period of time when he finally finds himself back on the market and then eventually in a relationship with a faceless and very loving woman from his own hometown.

He was finally happy, making you serendipitously glad that you were the caller he had reached.

#chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans

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