#i'm going to start small and not open this app for a week | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

finelinefae · 9 months ago

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bambi [ceo!h x shy!reader]

synopsis: y/n tries a dating app and meets the CEO of Pleasing

word count: 8.6k

contains: ceo!harry x assitant!y/n, deer!reader vibes, dating app, online dating, deer!reader, first date, first kiss, fluff, age gap (9 years)

a/n: this is the first part of a new series. as usual the first part is a lil slow to set things up but I'm excited for what's to come of this one. there's going to be a lot of cuteness and all the things i love writing about in this one so i can't wait to share more !

this is part 1 of Bambi, read part 2 here

. . .

Most of the time Y/N didn’t want to be in control of things.

From a young age, she had to be in charge of everything. She had three younger brothers and was born to a single mother who worked hard to keep everything afloat in their tiny, townhouse. So inevitably she became an adult before she could even buy a lottery ticket.

Her life wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t easy. With the constant nagging from her much younger siblings and the dampened sleeve of her t-shirt—evidence of the hours she spent comforting her mother through tears—Y/N had just had enough.

Her life had become an abundance of things she was struggling to keep up with. She had no reprieve throughout her daily life, no way of stopping or just letting go.

She worked six-hour shifts at the supermarket, studied marketing at university, did the school run in the mornings, and often in the evenings too, if her mother was too tired to get off the couch. She tutored her youngest brother, who was falling behind in math, and kept the house in order while all three of them stayed glued to the television.

Even worse, her social life was practically nonexistent.. She was twenty-one and spent her Friday nights making dino nuggets and catching up on an incessant amount of laundry from the past week.

Y/N wasn’t sure where her life was heading. The loneliness and stress was so overwhelming she could barely breathe.

One night, the weight of it all brought her to tears as she thought about her future after graduation. Most of the girls she knew were planning gap years, travelling to places like Brazil or Italy. She tried to picture herself boarding a plane, but the only thing she could imagine was her mother calling mid-flight, asking her to pick up one of the boys from school.

She pulled open her phone eyes blotchy and nose stuffy from crying. Her loneliness was hitting her hard and she was desperate to feel some kind of connection, even if it was five minutes of conversation. So, she opened the only dating app she had on her phone, one that she’d installed many moons ago when she wanted to open herself up to meeting new people.

She barely used it after realising she wasn’t the best at small talk and whenever a guy would ask for a date, her introverted self would refuse to step foot out of the house. But on occasion she’d find herself wondering, searching for someone to take her mind off of everything.

Y/N swiped past copious images of men, seemingly unphased by all of them. She swiped through so many, that they almost began to look the same - 5’9, tanned, shirtless or lifting weights trying to show some kind of strength that proved to women they were most definitely ‘manly’.

When she started to believe all hope was lost, she paused when her eyes settled on a man who didn’t look much like the others. He was tall, with brunette curls and green eyes that crinkled when he smiled. He wore rings on his hands in every single picture and in one of them he wore a shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal a sleeve of tattoos. In most of his pictures he wore comfy sweaters and knitted cardigans with grey or black trousers. In one of them he wore a pair of blue jeans and had a small, battered copy of The Catcher in the Rye in his back pocket.

She read his bio beneath.

‘Harry, 30

Likes: scrabble, food, cats, books, cardigans

Dislikes: loud chewing, music played too low, emails, wearing sunglasses indoors at dinner is absolutely criminal’

She clicked the heart on his profile, eyes widening when the words ‘MATCH’ appeared on the screen in big bubble writing. He hadn’t sent her a message but clearly he had liked her own profile which was surprising considering she had barely anything on it.

As she was mulling over what to say to start the conversation, three bubbles quickly appeared then disappeared, replaced by a message. She held her breath, reading the words.

Harry: Hey, pretty dress

She frowned, wondering what he meant by that but then remembered she had a picture of her on her profile, showcasing one of her favourite dresses. It was a baby pink slip dress she had made out of silk fabric.

Y/N: Thank you, I made it! :)

Harry: You did? Wow! Looks better than most of the ones I’ve seen in my own store.

Y/N: Do you own a clothing store?

Harry: Something along those lines

Harry: Although they don’t sell pretty dresses like yours

Y/N: They’re probably a lot better, I use cheap materials

She cringed at her message, hoping she didn’t sound broke or not put together by saying she used something cheap.

Harry: I’m even more impressed

She smiled, watching him type a new message.

Harry: What brings you here?

She tried to sum up how she was feeling without making herself seem like a weirdo. She didn’t want to sound like a recluse looking for human interaction no matter how much she felt like it.

Y/N: I’m tired of everything, just want someone to keep me company

Harry: I get that. Should I be worried? Are you okay?

Her heart warmed, she couldn’t remember the last time someone asked her if she was okay.

Y/N: I’m okay now, thank you for asking !! it’s just everyday life stuff.

Harry: Of course. Just let me know if there’s anything you want to talk about. I’m right here to listen… or read

Y/N: thank you, that truly means a lot!! xx

Harry: No problem, love x

Y/N’s heart flickered at the name he had placed on the end.

They texted for hours, well into the middle of the night. Y/N was giddy, rolling around on her bed, smiling so hard her cheeks ached. They had so much in common—both preferred quiet nights in, were family-oriented, loved literature and art and even fashion. He was funny and sweet, always checking in to make sure she was comfortable and that he wasn’t overstepping with his questions. Despite how much they had in common, they had a lot of differences too.

Y/N: Is it raining where you are? Xx

Harry: Hm, just checked outside and I think the clouds are coming over. I don’t mind though autumn happens to be my favourite season.

Y/N: omg really?

Harry: What? You don’t agree?

Y/N: No omg are you kidding? I’m much more into spring. I like that it’s sunny with a slight breeze so it’s warm but not too warm so you can still wear a sweater

Harry: Ahhh I see, you do give spring I must say

Y/N: You think so?

Harry: Even from looking at your pictures, you look like a tulip or something.

Harry: Or the little deer from that movie

Harry: What was it?

Harry: Bambi!

Harry: Maybe that should be your name - Bambi

Y/N: That’s one of my favourite movies !!

Y/N: I happened to think Bambi is a very pretty name

Harry: Then I’ll call you Bambi

Y/N: Well what should I call you?

Harry: Anything you like, Bambi

. . .

Y/N was working her shift at the supermarket. She was already entering her final hour, her stomach rumbling as she packed frozen pizzas onto the shelves. Although she had been working hard to get things done so she could go home on time, her mind was constantly wandering.

It had been a full week of talking to Harry. They had converted to messaging on WhatsApp after exchanging numbers and every day Y/N would wake up to a morning text message from him telling her to have a good day and that he would be right there in her pocket if she ever needed anything. In the evenings, he would make sure she wasn’t going to sleep with anything heavy on her mind. He’d ask her questions about what she ate and if she had any time to herself in the day. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt a little less lonely. She went about her day with a little pep in her step feeling the excitement of texting the man she had only just met. She didn’t know what it was about him but a part of her felt safe with him. Maybe it was the fact he was nine years older than her and knew what it was like to be under stress with so many things but he understood her in a way no one else did.

And Bambi.

Every day, it was Bambi this and Bambi that, and every time, she’d swoon or smile at the nickname he had given her. It was silly, maybe even a little ridiculous, how much it affected her. But she couldn’t help it—every time he said it, a bubble of excitement grew inside her. She liked someone for the first time in a long time, and it brought something new, something light, into her overwhelming life.

After days of just simply texting, Y/N had asked him if he wanted to video call tonight. It would be her first time hearing what he sounded like and part of her was nervous. What if he came across differently from how he was over text? What if he didn’t look the way he did in the numerous pictures he had sent her? What if after calling tonight, he didn’t like her anymore?

Hours later, Y/N was tucked up in bed readying herself to call him. She had showered and blow-dried her hair, wearing her comfiest pink pyjamas with her body wrapped up in her duvet. Her thumb hovered over the call button, gnawing on her bottom lip as thoughts raced through her mind.

She gasped when Harry’s face appeared on her screen just seconds after she pressed call. It was their first time ever talking like this, and her heart raced as she took in the sight of him. He was sitting in a desk chair, a large framed artwork hanging on the wall behind him. His shirt was slightly rumpled, his tie loosened around the collar, and his curls fell lazily across his forehead. He looked so effortlessly handsome, it almost didn’t seem real.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking the stillness of her bedroom. It carried a warmth, soft and steady, like the glow of a campfire, and she felt herself melt under its gentle heat.

“H-Hi,” she squeaked, her cheeks immediately flushing with warmth. Her nerves bubbled up as she realized she was staring at him, trying to comprehend that this was actually happening. Surely she was dreaming, she pinched herself to make sure.

Harry’s eyes softened when he heard her shaky greeting. “You alright?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small, amused smile. His tone was gentle, almost teasing, but there was something deeper there—like he was studying her reaction and enjoying every second of it.

She nodded quickly, fumbling with the hem of her pyjama shirt. “I’m good! Just… surprised you answered so fast.” She giggled nervously, her voice high-pitched and sweet, like she couldn’t quite believe this was happening. “I thought it’d take a few rings at least.” Her blush deepened as she tucked her knees up to her chest.

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and warm, making her heart flutter. “I was waiting for you to call,” he admitted, a soft smirk tugging at his lips.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she shyly glanced up at him through her lashes. “Really?” she asked, her voice soft and a little disbelieving.

He smiled, a slow, adoring smile that made her stomach flip. “Yeah, really. I’ve been thinking about it all day.” His voice had that low, confident tone, but his gaze was gentle, like he wanted to make sure she knew he meant it. “The only thing getting me through work.”

“You’re still at work? It’s nine-thirty!” she exclaimed, glancing at the clock in disbelief.

Harry’s lips curled into a playful smirk. “Is it past your bedtime, Bambi?” he teased, leaning back in his chair as he glanced at her through the screen.

Her heart stuttered hearing that nickname come from his own mouth. She felt like if the camera wasn’t on, she’d be floating around her room like a bright pink orb of light, “N-No,” she stammered, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “But shouldn’t you be going home by now? You’ve been working all day.”

He let out a small chuckle, shrugging as he glanced down at the papers scattered across his desk. “Got a lot to catch up on. Too many late nights spent talking to you.” His voice was warm, laced with affection despite his teasing.

Her heart sank for a moment, guilt creeping in. They’d been texting non-stop for weeks, and she hadn’t once thought about how it might be affecting his workload. He’d told her before that he worked for a clothing company, and it suddenly hit her how busy he must be.

Noticing the shift in her expression, Harry’s voice softened. “Y’thinking too much in that little head of yours?” he asked, cutting through her thoughts.

“Maybe a little,” she admitted quietly, biting her lip.

He shook his head, eyes never leaving hers. “You know I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, right? I love talking to you, Y/N. I think... I might even be a little obsessed with you,” he confessed, his smirk turning into a softer smile.

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a second, all she could do was stare at him, her heart thudding in her chest. “I-I think I’m obsessed with you too,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Yeah?” His voice was full of warmth, a hint of disbelief in it, like he hadn’t expected her to say it back. She nodded shyly, clutching her pillow tighter against her chest, her heart racing.

Harry huffed out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face to hide the wide grin that had taken over. “God, you’re even cuter than I imagined,” he murmured, his words full of adoration.

They talked for hours, diving into everything and anything that crossed their minds. It was the longest conversation they’d had since they started talking, and Y/N found herself more captivated by Harry than she thought was possible. The way he laughed, the way he listened—it all just pulled her in deeper.

In the middle of her sentence, she noticed Harry looking at her with an unusually soft expression, his eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite place. He suddenly spoke, cutting her off mid-thought. “Can I take you on a date?” His voice was gentle but firm, catching her completely off guard.

“O-Oh,” she stammered, blinking in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to want to meet her so soon, but her heart leapt at the thought. “I’d like that,” she replied, a soft smile spreading across her face. “Very much.”

His own smile widened, a mix of relief and excitement in his eyes. “How about Saturday evening? I could pick you up.”

“But wouldn’t that be too long of a drive?” she asked, biting her lip. She knew he lived in the city, about forty minutes away without traffic, and she didn’t want to inconvenience him.

Harry’s expression didn’t falter. “It’s not too far at all. Trust me, I don’t mind,” he said confidently. “I’ll pick you up at 8, sound good?”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, the idea of seeing him in person making her pulse race. She nodded shyly, her voice barely above a whisper. “Mhm, that sounds perfect.”

Harry’s grin grew, his eyes twinkling, “Can you wear the pretty dress you made?”

Y/N blushed, “You don’t want me to wear something a little more sophisticated?”

“Y’ can wear whatever makes you comfortable, I don’t mind but I think I’d like to see that little dress y’ made.”

She nodded, stifling a yawn as it slipped out. It was getting late, and Harry was still at his office, working. “Y’tired, lovie?” His voice softened.

“A little,” she lied, knowing full well she was more than exhausted. But the thought of ending the call made her chest tighten—she wanted to keep him on the line, even just for a few more minutes.

Harry chuckled softly as if he could see right through her. “Why don’t you rest those pretty eyes for me, yeah?” he murmured, his voice low and soothing, the gentle authority in his words making her entire body relax. She practically melted at the sound, her heart skipping a beat.

“M’kay,” she whispered, her eyelids already heavy as she let herself sink deeper into the comfort of his voice.

“I’ll be right here, alright?” he reassured her, his tone gentle and full of warmth.

She managed a soft smile, her words barely audible as her exhaustion overtook her. “Promise?”

“Promise Bambi,” he whispered, his voice the last thing she heard before sleep pulled her under.

. . .

“Mr. Styles?”

Harry looked up from his computer, peering over the rims of his glasses. His receptionist, Lindsey, stood in the doorway. “The samples for the newest collection have arrived. Would you like me to bring them in?” she asked, her voice polite but efficient, as always.

“Yes, please, Lindsey,” he replied with a sigh, signing off another email before hitting send. The endless stream of tasks had him feeling drained.

Though Harry wasn’t usually the type to show much warmth towards his employees, Lindsey was different. She’d been with him for years—long enough to earn not just his respect, but his trust. She was one of the very few people he relied on within his company.

Harry was the CEO of Pleasing, a major fashion company he had built from the ground up. His first line had been designed in a small studio, crafted with his own hands and the help of a few close friends who still worked by his side. Now, it was a global brand. He was on Forbes 30 under 30 and had features in magazines like GQ. He was even in Time magazine for most influential people.

Despite all the success, his day-to-day life had become an endless loop of emails, business meetings, and deadlines. Time for anything outside of work was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Lately, though, something, or rather someone, had started to make him reconsider how he spent his time.

He checked his phone once more having only picked it up a minute ago for the same reason. He hoped to see a message from Y/N, in fact he was eager to. Ever since he had messaged her on the only dating app he used, he hadn’t thought of anyone else but her.

It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision, one born out of the loneliness that weighed heavier than ever that night. Harry sat in his dimly lit office, the silence around him almost suffocating. He hadn’t dated in over a year, not since his last relationship, which had ended on a bitter note. That girl had taken advantage of him, using his desire of the relationship he wanted to manipulate him. She had drained his bank accounts, maxed out his credit cards on shopping sprees and lavish holidays with her friends, leaving him both financially and emotionally exhausted. After that, he’d grown wary of trusting anyone.

When he joined the website, he wasn’t exactly hopeful. The chance of finding someone who truly understood his career and mirrored his desires in a relationship seemed slim.

But then he met his Bambi.

He hadn’t been searching for anything specific that day, just scrolling aimlessly, but something about Y/N’s profile made him pause. There was a warmth to her, a genuine spark that went beyond her pictures. She didn’t seem to realise just how captivating she was, and that drew him in even more. It wasn’t just her beauty—though she was stunning—it was the way she spoke about the things she loved. Her messages were full of passion, filled with rambles about her favourite books, little moments in her day, or random thoughts that popped into her head.

Y/N had ignited something within him. He was excited for this newfound thing they had going on, a spark he hadn’t felt in years. Every message from her left him smiling at his phone, wondering what she’d say next. It was the kind of excitement that made the day feel a little brighter, knowing she was just a text away. He found himself looking forward to the simplest things—her daily updates, the way she’d ramble about something she’d seen or read, and even the photo updates she’d send him of things she was doing.

For the first time in a long time, he found himself imagining what it would be like to share his life with someone, instead of the quiet solitude he’d grown so used to. He couldn’t shake the thought of Y/N being that person—the one to bring warmth into the corners of his once-lonely home. He pictured what it would be like to have someone in his space, their presence adding a new kind of lightness. Someone to be there in the small, everyday moments and to keep him company after a long day at the office.

He couldn’t wait to meet her in real life, hold her in his hands and kiss the lips he spent nights dreaming about.

Harry snapped out of his daze when Lindsey opened the door and the manufacturers entered the room behind her, holding the fabric samples in their hands. They greeted him timidly, laying the samples on the table by the large floor-to-ceiling windows.

He walked over, black polished shoes clicking against the mahogany wood floor. He sighed when he took in the samples, he didn’t need to feel them to know they weren’t good enough. Uncapping the red pen, he drew a cross beside each sample, the men behind him releasing a shaky breath.

“Come back when you have what I want,” He murmured, dismissing them with a wave of his hand.

He checked the time on his watch and cursed. Today was his niece’s birthday and he promised his sister he’d visit in time for her birthday party this afternoon. “Lindsey,” He called, hearing her shoes against the floor before she opened the door to his office.

He pulled on his blazer, “I’ve got to leave, did you wrap that gift I gave you the other day?”

Lindsey frowned, “It’s under my desk but what about your meetings this afternoon?”

“Cancel them.” He shrugged.

His Porsche was parked out front by the time he stepped out of the building. He put the gift into the passenger seat and made a mental note to stop somewhere to buy a birthday card.

He glanced at his phone when a text came through.

Bambi: Half way through my shift. It’s been pretty rough, sorry for the late reply xx

His heart leapt when Y/N’s name appeared. He took his phone when he reached a red light and typed in a reply.

Harry: it’s okay lovie, call me when you finish yeah? x

He was desperate to speak to her even if it were just for a mere few seconds.

Making a left turn, he pulled into the parking lot of a small supermarket on the highway. It looked run down and old but there wasn’t anywhere else he could go to before he reached his sister's house.

People sat outside, smoking cigarettes and drinking out of beer cans. He ignored the glances they made towards him and his car.

He stepped inside and walked along the aisles, pausing when he noticed someone stacking things onto a shelf. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her. She was wearing blue jeans and a fuzzy white sweater, her hair was braided and fastened with pink, silk bows. She wore wired earbuds, her pink ballerina flats tapping against the laminate flooring.

She must have felt his gaze because her head lifted, eyes widening as they met his. Her soft, pink lips parted slightly, and in that instant, it was as if the world shifted—everything falling perfectly into place between them, as though they were always meant to find each other naturally.

Harry hadn’t noticed the sugar spilling from the bag she was holding until the store manager stormed over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sharp tone made Y/N jump, her body snapping upright as she stood frozen in front of her manager, fear flashing across her face.

“I-I’m s-sorry, I—” Y/N stammered, her voice trembling.

“How many times do I have to hear the same excuse from you?” her manager snapped. “Stupid, useless girl, costing me the whole damn shop.”

Y/N’s bottom lip quivered, her eyes welling up with unshed tears. “I-I know... I promised it wouldn’t happen again. It was an accident, really,” she whispered, her voice barely holding steady.

Harry’s frown deepened. Again? This had happened before?

From the way Y/N stood there, trying so hard not to cry, it was painfully clear—this wasn’t the first time her boss had spoken to her like this.

Harry’s jaw tightened as he watched the exchange, a surge of protectiveness rising in him. He had only known Y/N recently, but seeing her like this—small, vulnerable, and clearly hurt—stirred something deep within him. He couldn’t just stand there and let it happen.

“Excuse me,” Harry spoke up, his voice calm but firm, stepping closer. The store manager turned to him, annoyance flashing across his face.

“This doesn’t concern you,” the manager spat, his glare shifting to Harry.

“Actually, I think it does,” Harry replied, his eyes steady on the man. “You don’t need to speak to her like that.”

The manager scoffed. “And who the hell are you?”

Harry didn’t blink, his voice lowering. “Someone who knows when respect is lacking.”

Y/N looked up at Harry, wide-eyed, as if she couldn’t believe he was stepping in. Her heart raced, a mix of relief and anxiety bubbling inside her. She wasn’t used to anyone standing up for her like this.

“Y/N, why don’t you take a minute?” Harry said softly, glancing over at her, his voice now gentle and reassuring. The tears in her eyes made his chest physically hurt. He’d be quick with this useless piece of shit so he could give her all his attention.

She hesitated but then nodded, her gaze flicking between Harry and her boss. She quickly turned, slipping away from the confrontation, her hands shaking as she tried to compose herself.

Harry turned back to the manager, his calm exterior masking the frustration brewing underneath. “Speak to her like that again, and I won’t hesitate to have this place torn down, brick by brick, and replaced with a building I own. Then you’ll know firsthand what it’s like to deal with a real fucking manager.”

With that, he turned on his heel, already making a mental note to have his team look into this place. It was clearly lacking in more ways than one—enough to warrant being shut down for good he hoped.

Y/N stood behind the building, her back to him, shoulders trembling as she cried into her sleeve. Harry’s heart clenched at the sight. “Hey, hey, hey,” he murmured softly, stepping forward and gently pulling her into his chest. “Tha’s enough now, Bambi. Don’t waste your tears on him,” he whispered, his large hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Holding her close felt unexpectedly right, as if this was exactly where she belonged, even if the circumstances weren’t ideal.

“I’m so embarrassed,” she sniffled, her voice small. “This isn’t how I wanted you to see me for the first time.”

His eyes softened with affection as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. Carefully, he wiped her tear-stained, blotchy cheeks, his touch tender. “You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about, sweetheart,” he whispered, “S’alright now, y’ don’t have to go back in there.” He cupped the back of her head, feeling how soft and silky her hair was. He couldn’t seem to fathom that he was actually holding her after days of imagining what she would feel like.

She pulled away and for the first time Harry could get a proper look at her. He didn’t think it possible for her to be even more beautiful than the pictures he had of her on her phone but she was. Her features were soft, cheeks permanently pink like the colour of tulips on a spring day, her lips were the perfect shape, so delicate like two petals pressed together. She was a walking angel.

“Hey stranger,” He grinned, those perfect cheeks turning pink. If Harry had one goal in his life it was to make her all flustery and blushy.

“Hi,” She peeped, hands fiddling in front of her.

Her eyes widened when she saw the tear stains on his shirt, the damp spots revealing the tiniest hint of the tattoos on his torso. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin your shirt,” She cringed.

“Hey no need to apologise, ‘s not even ruined and I’d rather you were okay than some easily replaceable shirt.” He assured her. “Are y’ sure you’re okay? Don’t need to go in there and beat him up or anything,”

She smiled at that and the sight made his heart sing, “No it’s okay. I-I’m okay, thank you for looking out for me. I don’t normally have people doing that very often.”

He frowned. He didn’t like how often she spoke about how little help she got from other people. If anything, it made him want to take care of her even more than he already did.

“I should probably head back in. I still have three more hours of my shift,” she huffed, clearly reluctant. It was the last thing she wanted to do.

Harry’s expression softened, but his tone remained firm. “You don’t have to,” he said, his gaze holding hers, protective and unwavering.

Y/N frowned, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. “But I need the job, Harry,” she whispered, her voice shaky. “I can’t just leave.”

His jaw tightened at her words. He hated seeing her stuck in a place that didn’t value her, where she wasn’t respected. “I know you need the job,” he replied, gentler now, trying to ease her worry. “But no job is worth being treated like that. Not by him.”

She bit her lip, glancing back at the store, anxiety clearly weighing on her. “What am I supposed to do, then? I can’t afford to lose it.”

Harry stepped closer, his hand finding its way to her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You’re not going to lose anything,” he said softly. “Let me take care of it. Of you.”

Y/N blinked up at him, her heart pounding. “Take care of me?”

“Come work with me,” He offered.

There weren’t many positions available at Pleasing, but Harry didn’t care. He’d make something work—anything to keep her from going back into that place and dealing with the jerk inside.

“In the city? I... I can’t do that, Harry. I still have school, and my brothers...”

“You can work around it,” he said quickly, eager to find a solution. “I’ll pay for your gas to and from the city, or I’ll have someone drive you. Hell, I’ll drive you myself if it makes you feel better. Whatever you need. Just don’t stay here.”

He sighed softly, taking her small hand in his larger one, her warmth a comfort even as doubt flickered between them. “Just... think about it, yeah?” His thumb traced gentle circles on the back of her hand, trying to ease the tension.

Y/N hesitated but nodded slowly. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.

A grin spread across Harry’s face, his relief palpable. “Thank you Bambi.” He swore he saw her pupils carve into love hearts at his words.

. . .

Y/N hadn’t returned to her job at the store just as she promised Harry. It wasn’t only because Harry was insistent she didn’t go back but her manager had been pretty verbally abusive for quite some time now and she thought better than to go back and work for someone who was just plain mean.

A few days had passed and Saturday rolled around quickly. Y/N was giddy with excitement, preparing everything in time for Harry to pick her up to take her on their very first date this evening. She had arranged a babysitter to look after her brothers since her mother wouldn’t be home until late. It wasn’t often they splurged cash on hiring a babysitter but Y/N wasn’t going to rearrange her date with Harry for anything.

She’d made a list of everything she needed to do: wash and blow dry her hair, shave every inch of her body, and paint her nails with the glazed pink polish she’d ordered online. Her hair was in curlers as she carefully laid out her outfit for the evening—a pink satin slip dress she’d made herself, paired with white kitten heels that matched perfectly. With the season shifting into autumn, she added a thin white cardigan to keep her warm in case the night turned chilly on the way home.

She wanted to look perfect. Especially after the fiasco the other day when he had rescued her from her mean manager.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion the moment she laid eyes on the man from her phone. He was even more perfect than she had imagined—taller too. It still hadn’t sunk in that she was about to go on a date with this man—the one who wore a black suit to work and had saved her from cruel, terrifying managers.

And the way he spoke to her afterwards, comforting her with his big, heavy hands around her. She wanted him to pick her up and take her wherever he went.

Y/N sighed blissfully in front of her vanity. As Y/N finished her makeup, her phone buzzed with a message from Harry.

Harry: Just outside x

She peeked through the window, catching sight of him standing by a sleek black car, leaning casually against the door. He looked breathtaking in a fitted black suit, hands in his pockets as he scanned the street. Her nerves fluttered, a mixture of excitement and anticipation bubbling up. She took a deep breath, smoothed down her dress, and grabbed her cardigan before heading out the door.

The moment she stepped outside, Harry’s gaze snapped to her, dark and intense. He straightened up, eyes travelling over her form, taking in every detail of her appearance. The way he looked at her sent a shiver down her spine.

“Y’ look stunning, Bambi,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers down her spine. He took a step closer, his large hand cupping her cheek, thumb grazing her soft skin. “All this f’ me?”

Y/N blushed, biting her bottom lip nervously. “I-I wore the dress you wanted,” she mumbled shyly, looking up at him through her lashes, “Do you like it?”

“‘S perfect,” He murmured lowly.

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” He opened the car door for her, watching as she slid into the passenger seat, her delicate form contrasting with the dark interior of his Porshe. Harry’s eyes lingered on her legs for a moment before he shut the door and walked around to his side.

Once inside, he reached over, resting his hand on her thigh, the warmth of his touch comforting her immediately. “You nervous?” he asked, glancing at her with a small smile, though the look in his eyes held a trace of dominance.

“A little,” Y/N admitted, her voice soft and shy.

Harry gave her thigh a gentle squeeze. “Y’ don’t have to be nervous around me, love, promise ‘m not scary. Least of all t’ you.”

Y/N smiled, loving how he made it clear she was different, that he treated her in a way no one else could. It warmed her to feel special, especially when that feeling was rare for her.

As they drove, their conversation flowed easily. Y/N found herself opening up more and more, rambling about anything that came to mind. Harry listened intently, his smile soft as he asked questions, showing genuine interest in everything she said. Her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the car, and each time she answered bashfully, his lips curved.

Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed as they drove deeper into the city. The lights grew brighter, illuminating a part of town she rarely found herself in—where the wealthy lived, with towering apartment complexes and upscale restaurants lining the streets. Harry pulled over in front of a sleek Italian restaurant, where a man stood waiting by the curb.

“Are we allowed to park here?” Y/N asked, her face bathed in the glow of the restaurant’s lights.

Harry suppressed a grin at her confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well… I just assumed we weren’t eating here, which is totally fine! You don’t need to impress me with a fancy restaurant.” Her cheeks flushed pink as she tried to clarify.

Harry’s lips curled into a teasing smirk. “What if I told you we are eating here?”

Y/N’s eyes widened in disbelief. “A-are we?”

Without answering, Harry reached for her hand, brushing his lips over the back of it. “Y’ too cute,” he murmured. “Come on, they’re waiting for us.” He stepped out of the car, passing his keys to the valet standing nearby, before adjusting his blazer and moving to open the door for her, his hand stretched out toward her for her to grab onto.

Y/N hesitated, her mind reeling. There was no way they were eating at this restaurant—the kind with a year-long reservation list and three Michelin stars. She’d heard rumours that a single course here could cost more than her entire paycheck for the week. But as she took his hand and stepped out, it felt impossible to believe this was really happening.

Harry intertwined their fingers, offering a brief nod to the waiter who opened the door for them. “Harry… are you sure? They probably don’t have any tables for people just walking in,” she whispered.

He chuckled softly. “Don’t worry, love. I made some arrangements.”

Her brows furrowed in surprise. “Arrangements? How?”

Stopping at the ‘Please Wait to Be Seated’ sign, Harry finally turned to her with a playful twinkle in his eye. “I own the restaurant.”

Y/N’s mouth fell open as a waiter approached, menus tucked neatly under his arm. “Good evening, Mr. Styles. Your table is ready.”

Feeling like she was in a dream, Y/N walked hand-in-hand with Harry to a private table near the large glass windows at the back. The breathtaking view of the city’s skyline stretched out before them, and the table, set for two, was tucked away to offer them some privacy.

As they were seated, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the quiet stares and murmurs from other guests. She knew Harry owned a clothing business, but… just how successful was he?

The waiter laid the menus out in front of them and left them to decide what they wanted to order. Y/N hadn’t even noticed as her wide eyes gazed around the room at the glowing chandeliers.

Harry reached for her hand beneath the table, “Are y’ okay love?” He asked. Y/N’s gaze snapped towards him, “I hope ‘s not too much.”

“H-Harry, I really appreciate you bringing me here, I mean even stepping inside is a dream come true, but… I c-can’t afford this.” She felt awful saying it but it was true and it was better to tell him now than when she’d finished her meal, she wouldn’t want him thinking she was out for his money.

Harry frowned, “Bambi, this is a date. Y’ don’t have to pay for anything.”

“B-but I can’t use your money.” She told him.

She couldn’t hear it but Harry’s heart was singing in his chest. She was exactly what he was looking for someone totally opposite to all the women he had dated in his past.

He cupped her cheek in his hand, “Look at me Y/N,” Big, doe eyes gazed into his, “Please stop worrying and let me take care of you. I know y’ haven’t been given that in the past but ‘m here now and I want this. I wanted to bring y’ here and I want y’ to be spoiled and I want to treat you in the way you deserve. So can you pick something from the menu and let me look after you Bambi baby, please? Think you can do that?”

Her lips parted, slowly nodding her head but she quickly said one last thing, “You don’t have to take me to fancy places to make me feel spoiled Harry. I already feel spoiled enough just getting to be with you.”

He smiled, eyes glistening under the low light of the chandelier. He placed a hand on her thigh and squeezed as a small thank you. “Have you decided what you’re going to eat?”

"Hmmm," Harry grinned, watching Y/N's pouted lips as she studied the menu with intense concentration. "I can't decide between the truffle pasta or the smoked salmon!" she huffed, clearly torn.

"How about this," he offered with a shrug, "I’ll get the smoked salmon, you get the truffle pasta, and we can share? That way you can try both."

She glanced up at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “You don’t want something else?”

He had been planning on ordering the steak and potatoes, but seeing how much this small decision seemed to weigh on her, he didn’t mind changing his mind. The smoked salmon was one of his favourite dishes anyway.

When the waiter came over, Harry confidently placed the order for both of them, which made Y/N visibly relax. She hated the pressure of ordering her own food, so the simple act of him taking charge made her feel instantly at ease.

“We’ll make sure to have your order as a priority, Mr. Styles,” the waiter nodded respectfully before walking away.

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise. “Wow. They must really like you here.”

Harry chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. “Didn’t I mention I owned a clothing business?”

“Mhm,” she nodded, “But I thought it was just a boutique or something.” She shrugged, clearly unaware of the scale.

Harry laughed a warm, deep sound that made her stomach flip. “Bambi,” he said, pulling her gently into his side until their cheeks were almost touching, “See that guy’s sweater? That woman’s hat? And that lady’s dress over there?” She nodded everytime he pointed towards them, her heart skipping a beat at their closeness. “We made all of those.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “W-wait, you own Pleasing?”

Harry nodded, a small, proud smile tugging at the corner of his lips. Y/N couldn’t even count how many times she had opened the Pleasing website, scrolling through pages of clothes she desperately wanted but couldn’t afford. And now, she was sitting across from its owner—no, she was on a date with him.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pulling away slightly to gauge her reaction. "Which reminds me, have you given any more thought to the job?"

She had, actually. The idea had been rolling around in her mind ever since he’d mentioned it. "What's the role again?" she asked, trying to sound casual.

"My assistant," Harry replied smoothly. "You’d help with emails, scheduling meetings, running errands—nothing too complicated. Just being my right hand.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward, though? Since we’re, y’know... dating?”

Harry smirked, catching the implication. "So, there’s going to be a second date?" His teasing tone made her blush. “And if anything, it makes it better. I’d get to see you every day instead of just texting."

“But what about school?” Y/N asked, trying to think practically.

“We’ll figure it out,” he said easily. “Whatever you need. We can make it work.”

“Shouldn’t there be an interview or something?” she quipped, trying to lighten the moment, though her heart was racing.

Harry sighed dramatically, playing along. “Alright. Hello, Miss Y/L/N. Welcome to your official interview for the position of Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”

Y/N giggled, her nerves easing as she followed his lead. “Well, hello Mr. Styles. Thank you for having me.”

Harry’s lips curled into a smile, his eyes twinkling as he played along. “First question,” he said, leaning closer, their faces now just inches apart. “How do you feel about spending every day with me? Answer carefully—it’s a tough one.”

Y/N couldn’t help but giggle, her cheeks flushing a soft pink. “Well, Mr. Styles, I think I could manage that.”

“Good answer,” he praised, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. “Next question: Can you handle a man who’s very particular about his coffee?”

She tilted her head, raising an eyebrow in playful suspicion. “Are we talking normal particular, or... like, twelve-steps-to-make-a-single-cup particular?”

Harry chuckled, his dimples deepening. “Maybe somewhere in between. But don’t worry, I can teach you.”

Y/N laughed softly, her nerves easing even more. Being around him was easy, natural—like slipping into something familiar and warm. “I think I could handle that.”

"One last question," Harry murmured, leaning in even closer. His gaze flickered to her lips for a brief second before locking back onto her eyes. "How do you feel about sneaking around with your boss?"

Her laughter died down, a trace of seriousness replacing it. She knew the risks—things had to stay professional, no hint of their relationship could slip through especially since Harry would not only be her boss but was the Senior Director and had to have the respect of everyone. But still, she couldn’t resist.

“I think it could be fun,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“Good,” He murmured, “I think you’ve passed the test, Bambi,” Y/N noticed how close his lips were to hers, if she moved her face forward they’d be touching, “Any questions?”

. . .

Harry pulled the car up to the curb just outside Y/N’s house, the gentle hum of the engine fading as he switched it off. The street was quiet, the only light coming from the street lamps casting long shadows on the pavement. Inside her house, the windows were dark, and she silently hoped her brothers were already asleep, sparing her the awkwardness of explaining why she wasn’t rushing inside.

The silence between them felt comfortable yet charged, neither making a move to leave. It was as if both of them knew the night shouldn’t end yet, even though it had to at some point. Y/N looked down at her hands, nervously tracing the edge of her coat, stealing glances at Harry every few moments. He seemed deep in thought, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel, but the same hesitation hung in the air between them.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said softly, her voice breaking the silence.

He turned to her, his expression soft but intent, as if weighing every word. “Don’t need t’ thank me Bambi,” he replied, his eyes lingering on her face a moment longer than necessary.

“I wish I didn’t have to go home,” She huffed, looking down at her fingers on her lap.

Harry’s lips curved into a small smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes. He leaned back in his seat, turning his body slightly toward her. “Y’ want to go back to mine?”

She wanted nothing more, the pain of saying no physically paining her, “M-my brothers... they have school,” she murmured.

“S okay,” He smiled.

The air between them felt thick with unspoken feelings, and she could feel her heart race as the weight of his gaze settled on her. He reached over, gently tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his touch soft.

“Bambi,” he said quietly, his voice suddenly more intimate, like he was laying something important on the table.

She turned to face him fully, her breath catching as his fingers brushed against her cheek, lingering just long enough to make her pulse race. The space between them seemed to vanish, and suddenly, all she could think about was the way his lips would feel against hers.

Neither of them spoke. The tension that had been simmering all evening finally boiled over. Harry’s hand cupped her cheek, and in that quiet moment under the dim streetlights, he leaned in.

The kiss was gentle at first, tentative, like they were both testing the waters. But as soon as their lips touched, a wave of emotion flooded over her, and she couldn’t help but respond. Her hand found its way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, slow and lingering. It wasn’t rushed or hurried—just soft, warm, and full of everything Y/N had been dreaming about for longer than she cared to admit.

When they finally pulled apart, Harry rested his forehead against hers, both of them catching their breath, their lips still tingling from the kiss. His hand lingered on her cheek, as though neither of them was ready to let the moment slip away just yet.

Y/N opened her mouth to say something, maybe to break the silence or make a joke about how long they’d waited for this. But before she could speak, a loud thud startled her. She turned her head, eyes widening as the lights in her house flickered on. And there they were—her brothers, pressed against the living room window, grinning like fools and making exaggerated kissy faces at them.

“Oh my God,” Y/N groaned, mortified. Her face flushed a deep shade of red as she fumbled with her seatbelt. "This is so embarrassing."

She pushed the door open and scrambled out of her seat, grabbing her purse in a flurry of panic. “I am so sorry, Harry. I-I have to go,” she stammered, her words tumbling out in a rush as she awkwardly tried to regain her composure. “Thank you for dinner, a-and the kiss! Oh, and the job too!”

In her haste, her heel caught on a paving stone, and she stumbled slightly, her purse nearly slipping from her hand as she made her way toward the front door.

Harry watched her, his mouth half open, caught between amusement and disbelief. She was flustered, rambling, and absolutely adorable. He couldn't stop the soft chuckle that escaped him as he leaned back in his seat, shaking his head.

"Bambi!" he called out the car window, grinning. “I'll take that as a yes on the job?”

Y/N turned back briefly, her face flushed but her smile shy and genuine. “Yes! Definitely yes!” she called over her shoulder, before hurrying inside, her brothers still laughing from the window.

As she disappeared through the door, Harry chuckled to himself, the warmth from their kiss still lingering. He turned the ignition on, shaking his head in disbelief at how the night had unfolded. It was far from the graceful goodbye he had imagined, but somehow, it felt perfect. He couldn’t stop smiling as he pulled away from the curb.

Yeah, he thought to himself, that definitely meant she was taking the job.

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lenallu · 4 months ago

Text

For a moment, I thought it was you.

Based on the text messages Zayne sends when you haven't opened the app in a long time. ❅ tags: angst, hurt/comfort ❅ word count: 2.4k ❅ synopsis: You go missing on the job. Zayne struggles with the thought that you might never come back. ❅ a/n: my first fic post!!!! I'm currently writing a part two, so let me know if you like this :)

"I saw a hunter wearing their uniform at the airport during my last trip. For a moment, I thought it was you."

His phone chimes when his message delivers. It takes him a while to look away, and he feels silly for it. It's been this long, and yet he has failed miserably to snuff out the habit of hoping you'll reply. He shoves his phone into his pocket, the weight of it tugging his jacket when it hits the bottom of his deep, wrapper filled pockets. Candy wrappers he pulled from your hands as you raved about the flavor, so he could throw them away for you later.

You had been missing for just over three weeks when he put that jacket on again, and something totally irrational in the back of his head begged him to leave them in there. He shook his head. When did garbage become precious? You'll be back. His pockets will fill with the crinkled paper when you amble by each other's sides once again, soon.

He decides to leave them in there anyway. He picks lint off the shoulder, lingering on the garment before pushing it back into his closet, near the back. He tries not to think much of that choice, and does his best to ignore the things his mind is trying to suggest.

He hears people talking on the street later that day, parroting rumors about a failed mission and 11 or 12 casualties, hunters. A team of them, sent out to do who knows what. You didn't tell him much about it before you left. You were legally barred from sharing details with civilians. It was standard safety protocol. He understood at the time, but now he wishes you could have given him something. Anything to figure out where you had gone, so he could go and get you himself.

A shrill meow sounds out near his feet, and yanks him out of his thoughts. He had stopped by a table of jewelry set up outside of a shop you used to stare at every time you passed by with him on your walks through town, but had lent all his focus to absorbing information from conversations that floated by. Scraping the world around him for any indication of you.

He stares at the cat, and recognizes her from the countless times you had reached down to pet her. You’d even started to carry loose treats in your pockets just for her.

He turns a ring from the table in his fingers, tracing over the small, sparkling embedded stones before setting it down. When you get back, he’ll remind you to check your clothes for cat treats before you wash them.

At work, none of his pens seem to stay put in his pocket. They're too busy whirling around his fingers, occupying his hands even when he isn't writing anything. He can't explain the fidgeting to himself or to his colleagues questioning gazes. He was a stable surgeon. A steady person. He started actively reminding himself of that, repeating it like a wish, as if it had stopped being true at some point.

🜺

A month and a half has passed. He sits tensely at his dining table, chin cradled in the space between his thumb and forefinger. The house is quiet like it always is when you aren’t there, but it bothers him more now. It unsettles him to think it might be like this forever, and he pleads with himself for the hundredth time not to go there in his head.

He started watching the news more often, almost religiously. The second he gets home and his keys rattle onto the counter, the tv is on. If the association releases any kind of statement, he doesn't want to miss it.

A fatigued sigh blows from his nose after about an hour of menial news reports, and he's just about to get up to cook something when the newscaster's voice cuts out. 'Breaking news' flashes across the screen.

"We can't make any definitive statements, but we believe we were able to recover data of the last signals their watches sent out before everything went dark. Again, the location of this mission was incredibly remote and difficult to navigate, so this doesn't guarantee we will find them. That is all in terms of developments. It has taken a long time to regain access to our systems and grab those signals."

His eyes are wide, and all he can think about is storming your building and demanding information. He knows it doesn't work like that. He still considers it. He had hoped when an update finally came, he'd be sprinting through the door to his car to pick you up. The ghost of that hope lingers in his legs, and he doesn't know what to do with the residual energy. He feels utterly helpless.

🜺

Your body wakes before you, searing pain striking through your limbs. Your eyelids feel glued together as you struggle to open them, but once you do, all you see is white. Fear kickstarts the rest of your functions, and you start to regain sensation. Quick and panicked breaths scratch their way out of your throat as your eyes dart around. You become aware that you are encrusted in icy crystals, sunken about two feet into some snowy expanse. Moving proves difficult, but you manage. Snow slides off your form and you stumble and trudge forward with hardly any mental recognition that you are actually moving. Things are fuzzy. You're not sure you're even really alive.

You're not all there, if there at all, but you feel a tinge of what you loosely recognize as rage floating in you somewhere in response to the snow that never seems to end. That anger blooms in your chest as you plow through what seems like miles of pure white, and your body feels like it's stinging all over. It's all you have.

This all just feels like an infinite dream. Maybe this was death. A cruel one, and maybe it came with a sentence. A punishment. Doomed to push through miles of numbing, freezing cold, thinking it'll end eventually, but it never does. All with half a mind, which is enough to feel the pain in your heart, but not enough to remember how to cry or scream or shout or plead. Condemned to carry a heavy sorrow that you don't even know how to put down.

Please let it end soon. You can't put the words together in your mind, but you feel them. You feel them for a while, until you don't anymore. You are none the wiser as your body collapses in a more shallow clearing.

🜺

Zayne doesn't even know how to describe what he just saw. Vocabulary wasn't an issue. He was well versed in nearly every medical term he encountered in the stacks upon stacks of textbooks and learning materials he revised in undergrad and beyond.

It was you, but it wasn't. Your skin was nearly a shade of grey he couldn't even fathom on a living human being. That thought sunk something in him as soon as it passed through his mind. He stood there paralyzed as you were rushed past him, the team of doctors wheeling you shouting up a storm of vitals and medications. All of which, for the first time in Zayne's life, were incomprehensible. He couldn't make out a single thing they were saying, and not because it was unclear. He couldn't think at all. He didn't realize he wasn't breathing until Yvonne stood up from the reception desk to lightly lay her hand on his shoulder. A turbulent breath suddenly thrusted out of him like water through a broken dam, and he ignored Yvonne's voice calling out to him as his body carried him down the hall as fast as it possibly could.

He caught up, and grimaced at the sight of you. He catches bits and pieces of what the doctors are saying as you are rushed into a room and CPR protocols begin. At some point, a catheter is placed and they begin pumping you with warmed intravenous fluids. The door swings closed as a doctor rushes past, and the only thing that stops him from crashing through that door is Yvonne finding him again. He only looks at her for half a second before he's staring through the tiny window in the door. He wants to say something, but stands there in silence.

"She has a pulse." Yvonne addresses the worry she can see written all over him. She stares into the window with him, and her next words feel strange when they eventually come out. "They're doing everything they can."

She's offered this line to countless anxious families, but never did she think a time would come where she'd be saying it to him. Greyson comes along at some point, having heard of the situation, and lightly gestures for Zayne to sit down.

"She's gonna come around, Dr. Zayne. She’s in good hands. You know you're not in a state to do anything right now, anyways, or you wouldn't still be standing out here instead of in there. Come on." He says gently. "She'll come around."

Two hours pass, and he's beating himself up the whole time. He should be in there, saving you. He's studied all his life to do just that, and when the time came, he couldn't. Fear got in the way. He loved you so much it paralyzed him. When he looked at you today, grief crashed into him like he had lost you right there in that hall. He felt like a giant hole had been blown in his chest. He starts to sink in that powerless feeling. You’re here, and yet he still feels like he did when the news came on that night in his home.

Your hypothermia was severe enough that invasive procedures were required. Tubes were put in through your esophagus, which connect to an external heat exchange unit. Zayne clicks through your intake form, and through several tabs on the procedure they were currently putting you through. As he sifts through the information, there's a growing tightness in his chest and throat. It pulls tighter, and he tries to ignore the way his eyes are burning. Grief continues to brew inside him, venting out of his chest with periodical sighs as he scrolls, brows knitted. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if you don’t make it.

A knock sounds at the door of his office. It’s Greyson. He offers a tight lipped smile.

“She’s stable. The docs are done and her room is empty.” He hardly has time to finish his sentence before Zayne is up and moving. He hurriedly marches out into the hall and straight for you. All the energy built up over the last 2 months propelled him forward, but dissipated as soon as he got to your door. He’s not prepared when he does see you.

Your skin isn’t quite as ashen anymore. Color is returning to you, but you are clearly emaciated. His mind races with all the possibilities of the kind of trouble you might have been in, and it shakes him deeply. He stands at the foot of your bed for a while, idling. Almost in complete disbelief that he is seeing you again, and not in a body bag with a certificate of death being handed to him.

He pulls a chair up to your bedside. You’re covered in a few layers of thick blankets. He hesitates to touch you, but he reaches under the warm layers, feeling for your hand anyway. Out of pure need. He has to know it’s really you.

He grazes something cold. His fingers find your hand, wrapping around it and squeezing lightly to warm you up.

He studies your sunken features as his heart starts to settle in his chest for the first time in months. The steady beeping from the monitor is music to his ears, lulling him into comfort as he settles into the chair, still holding onto you. You don't look well, but you're alive. That's all he needs. He falls asleep as he sits there for a few hours, the sky rolling into darkness outside.

🜺

Your eyelids open with much less difficulty this time. Met with the sterile white of the hospital room, you panic briefly before realizing where you were. Your mind is still foggy as you blink lazily, comforted by the sheer warmth that envelops you.

A soft noise comes from somewhere to your right, and the muscles in your neck ache as you turn your head to follow it.

Zayne. Slumped in his chair, head leaning toward one shoulder as soft breaths blow locks of hair from his face. Sunlight from the window falls over him, blanketing his features in warmth, and he’s the purest picture of paradise you’ve seen in a long time. The sight of him seems to activate some kind of primal instinct towards warmth, and adrenaline starts to pump into your blood. You long to hold him and ensure that this isn’t a dream, but you feel overcome with weakness, and you can hardly manage squeezing his thumb.

He doesn't wake. You huff, body going slack after a wholehearted, but futile attempt to move. You stare at the ceiling and breathe deeply, begging for only just enough strength. You turn your head to him again, and determination washes over you. You pull your hand free from his grasp, mustering up all the strength you have plus what you don't, and feebly tumbling out of bed onto his chair and him.

He startles and instinctually tries to catch you, his sleepy, bleary eyes becoming focused on you and expanding once he realizes it’s you, and your skin beneath his fingers. His expression breaks into so many things at once: sorrow, pain, relief and others you aren't even allowed to finish distinguishing before he pulls you into a suffocatingly tight embrace. The sight of the whirling storm in his eyes, maybe even just his eyes alone, were enough to choke you up. You let out an incredulous laugh as he squeezes you, and tears collect in your eyes. It’s the warmest you’ve felt in months.

You wrap your arms around his head, settling your cheek in his soft hair when you start to feel him shudder. Guilt crashes into him, for not being able to do more. He should have stormed into the Hunter's Association, he should have gone out and looked for you night and day, across states and countries. He should have taken care of you when you got wheeled in. He should have, he should have.

Excruciating recollections of what happened to you on that mission start to creep into your mind as his warmth begins to thaw you from the inside, so you squeeze your eyes shut, and hold him tighter.

#lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #l&ds zayne #love and deepspace zayne #li shen #lnds #lnds zayne #love and deepspace #l&ds #angst #hurt/comfort #lnds x reader #zayne x you #zayne x mc

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sheeple · 5 months ago

Text

Okay so is this kinda inspired by my own wishfull thinking? Yes absolutely. Do I give a damn? Absolutely not. Warnings? Age gap (reader 23/John 35) / Reader lives at home / kinda rushed because I want it out of my system :)

Ever since covid you and your friend had a Tinder Night every two weeks, to help you with your never-ending singleness. And when she moved across the country to move in with her boyfriend, the Tinder Nights got digital. And by now you've also broadened your horizon to Hinge.

But one evening bored out of your mind by the selection of boys, your friend — plus her boyfriend who tries not to be invested but is failing very badly — and you decide to up the age to 30 to 40, for shits and gigs of course.

And after an evening of swiping and giggling about the creepy dudes who put their minimum age to at least 23, you kinda forget to put the age back to your five-year rule. Until you get a notification of Hinge a couple of nights later.

John has liked your photo! Match to continue the conversation.

You hesitate at first. From the small picture, the notif gives you you can see that the guy isn't 25 of something. Opening the app, you scroll through his profile.

He's... handsome. You're not going to deny that with short brown hair and a pretty mighty moustache and beard, he kinda gives you puppy vibes as his eyes radiate kindness.

His profile says he's 35 and in the army. Pretty tall too. And his prompts are pretty hilarious too. At least... you think so.

You send a screenshot to your friend of his answer to:

I'm totally obsessed with: Sleeping in a freshly washed bed.

You: Oh he's... like ADULT adult Your friend: That answer comes across as if he is going to give you tips about the airfryer

And against your better judgement... you match with him.

The conversation is awkward at first (from your side at least) but slowly and surely you start to warm up. His jokes are horrible and dad-jokey but make you smile anytime he sends them. He's the first person you text and the last one from whom you check if you have a message before going to sleep.

After a week he asks you out to dinner. He wants to meet you and see if you match each other in real life. And you agree.

So that Friday, after work, you get all dolled up and you ask your mother to drop you off so you can drink a cocktail or two and don't have to worry about driving.

When you walk into the restaurant your breath hitches. There he is, waiting patiently for you. He's wearing a simple white button-up with the sleeves rolled up his arms and dark slacks. Effortlessly handsome.

John rises from his seat when you approach and hugs you, a wide smile on his face. He pulls the chair out for you, like the gentleman he is, and asks about your day.

To your surprise, this is the first date you truly enjoy. John is attentive and seems to really pay attention to you and what you say. He asks about you, your job, and your life. Of course, you do the same. he's a very interesting man and his job is just amazing. He explains he's a captain in the British Army but that he's on desk duty until his injury from his last deployment has healed. He can't say a lot about his job as a Captain, but what he tells you sounds all so brave.

Without even realising hours have passed and the restaurant staff is not so subtly urging you to pay and go home. You want to grab your purse to split the bill. But John gives you a stern look and pays instead.

"You really didn't need to do that", you say as he drives you home, feeling kinda guilty that he paid the bill.

John gives you the same look as before. "Darling, my mother raised me right. And she would give me a stern talking to if she knew I would let a lady pay on the first date."

"Fine", you huff, "but next time I pay!"

"Next time huh?" He gives you a cheeky smile.

You feel your face heat up and choose to say nothing, opting to look out of the window.

John stops in front of your house and gets out to open the car door for you. He walks you to the front door and you hesitate for a moment with the key in your hand.

"I would love to invite you in for tea but..."

He nods understanding. "But you have roommates that are probably asleep by now. I get it."

Pursing your lips, you embarrassingly scratch the back of your neck. "No... I still live with my parents."

John's eyes widen with shock for a second before he masks it. "Ah. I see."

This is it, you think, I've blown it.

"It's a bit too early to meet the parents, isn't it?", he jokes and you let out a sigh of relief. You nod in agreement, a smile forming on your face.

Standing up on your tippy toes, you press a kiss against John's cheek. His beard prickles your lips but you don't mind it.

"Thanks for tonight. And thanks you for driving me home", you smile softly. "Text me when you get home safely?"

John nods and you wait before entering your home until John's driven away. Once inside you sigh deeply.

How are you going to explain to your parents that you're dating a guy who's seriously twelve years older than you?!

second part

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horny-marbles · 4 days ago

Note

Hihi! Unsure if you’d recognize me as 🧃 anon over on Tiv’s blog,,(I’m always found in the trenches over there) but I’ve been lurking on here for a bit now and can hold silent no longer!

As a fellow Ej main,,,, I gotta ask u. Erm what’s ur take on what HE would be like during period sex??? 👉👈

Ehe I love your work sm!!!!

hiiii yes i know u!! OK SO i'm using this as an excuse to post this fic i wrote a few months ago because i wasn't sure if i'd be shunned off this app for it lmfao, so like. i hope you got your answer 🫡

(also this is just some munch behaviour, but p in v is basically the same. he WILL get rabies. godspeed if you're on your period while he has his rut, you might actually get dicked into a coma)

(also also i'm not the proudest of this one but i've been fiending to post it so WHATEVER go my cannibal bf)

Bloodhound (Eyeless Jack x F!Reader)

CW: period oral, multiple orgasms, kinda public

wordcount 2.6k

It took forever to get to this point with Jack.

He’s not emotionally available. He doesn’t date. He doesn’t cuddle. He doesn’t care—at least, that’s what everyone at the mansion thought. He always keeps a distance, clinically cold, silent unless necessary. Most creeps only interact with him when they're dying and hoping he’d patch them up in time. You? You got in somehow.

It started with shared silences. You didn’t push, didn’t ask invasive questions. You treated him like a person, not a monster, not someone you can get something from. Maybe that’s what cracked him open.

Nothing about it was fast. It was Jack, after all. Glacial patience, iron self-control. And he… was a project in erosion. Small conversations, slow touches. Letting him fix a cut on your hand, not flinching at his claws, letting him hear your heartbeat up close while he stitched you up.

It took weeks for him to even look at you like something more than another resident of the mansion. Even longer to speak to you like you mattered. And months before you saw him with his guard down. Just a little. A crooked smile when you said something that caught him off-guard. He was cautious—frustratingly so—but over time, he allowed you closer.

Something changed along the lines. Eventually, you broke through. Maybe it was your quiet persistence. Maybe it was just time. Maybe he got tired of pretending your presence hadn't become sought out rather than just a nice surprise on the occasion.

Whatever it was, you were his now. And he was yours. Carefully. Quietly. Privately. Like something precious. It was gentler than you could've anticipated, but it felt monumental.

You knew he was demon enough to survive off flesh. You knew his senses were heightened—he’d mentioned it once, bluntly, like a clinical report. “Everyone in this house reeks. I ignore it. Easier that way.” You didn’t ask more.

So when your period started, you didn’t even think to tell him. Why would you? You weren’t the kind of person to make a big deal out of it out loud. You’d stuff a pad in your jacket, pop some ibuprofen, sulk, call it a day. Maybe mention it if sex came up to make sure he wasn't squeamish, but otherwise—whatever.

He was NOT squeamish.

He was a fucking wreck, in such a visceral way that it knocked him off balance.

He didn’t realize it at first. Not consciously. There was just… a difference.

Your heartbeat was lower. Your temperature ran hotter. A subtle change in the chemistry of your sweat. Not bad—nothing ever was with you. But different. Complicated.

Jack tuned these things out. Hormones, sweat, stress, sex—this mansion stank of it. He’d learned long ago that the only way to keep his sanity was to ignore everything that wasn’t essential. If he let it in—really let it in—he’d never get peace again.

But this wasn’t the house. This wasn’t “ambient noise.” This was you.

And your scent had changed.

At first, it was small. Just enough to raise the hair on his arms. His instincts whispered to him in the background, tugged at the base of his spine like a hooked wire. Something important was happening. Something ripe.

The smell started sweet. Then it got wet. Iron and heat. Blood and sugar and skin. A slick, dizzying cocktail of copper and pheromones that made something deep in his gut twitch.

He realized—too late—that you were bleeding.

He’d smelled it before, of course. Lived with women in this house. It had never meant anything to him. Just another reason to stay away for a few days, let the hormone cloud settle and spare himself the migraine.

But this wasn’t just any blood. It wasn't the viscera and gore he was so used to when feeding. This wasn't about hunger and survival. It was about you. About everything else that came with it — your hormones, the heat under your skin, the scent of pain and lust and life. You were a walking furnace, and he was standing downwind from the smoke.

Jack hadn’t accounted for that when he lowered his defenses to let you in. He hadn’t even considered that it might affect him differently.

But now it was like every cell in his body was tuned to you. Your scent dragged claws down his brainstem, lit every nerve like a chemical explosion. His mouth filled with saliva he didn’t need. His muscles locked so tight it hurt to move.

And his cock was constantly throbbing. There was barely any angle to adjust, no distraction strong enough. His body was betraying him, rock-solid and aching, cock flushed and twitching behind his jeans like it wanted to rip through.

Not just hard. Rigid. Like his entire body was bracing against some invisible force. His shoulders tense. Jaw clenched. Claws scraping gouges into the inside of his palm just to focus.

He stayed away that first day. Locked himself in his room. Didn’t answer when you knocked.

But the second day, your scent wafted behind you when you passed by him in the hall, grazing under his nose like it was both mocking and luring him in, and his knees buckled.

You were too busy chasing your cramps away with painkillers and heat pads to notice your boyfriend's change in behaviour, though.

You never noticed the way he breathed around you, measured and tight and absolutely refusing to inhale through his nose. The way he kept his hands in his pockets, hidden, clenched. The way his voice went low and clipped when you got too close.

But the way he wouldn't even look in your general direction—allusive to an actual glance as it would've been—became too on the nose. The way his shirt clung to his chest. The sheen of sweat permanently on his collar.

His breath stuttered when you leaned over the sink at some point before heading to bed. You were just getting a glass of water.

And Jack folded like laundry.

“Sit down.” His voice was low, firm, strained. Out of nowhere.

You blinked and turned around slowly. “What?”

His head was tilted slightly downward, jaw clenched like he was about to snap it off at the hinge. “The couch. Sit.”

You sat, confused. Bracing for the talk. Surely, the strange behaviour meant he was just done, for some reason. That's what your homonal mind jumped to anyway.

He knelt between your legs without another word. Okay, so no talk.

You stare down at him.

He's kneeling. Still. Broad hands braced on your thighs, fingers twitching like he’s holding himself back from shredding you to ribbons. He’s staring at your padded pussy like he can see it through your pajamas, like it owes him money. Like it promised him something and he came to collect.

Your legs spread a little—not even fully open—but his breath shudders out like he’s been punched.

“Jack?” you murmur, half-laughing, half-nervous. “What are you doing?”

His claws curl tighter into your thighs. He doesn’t answer right away. You can see the war in his head, muscles in his jaw doing Olympics when they twitch. He lifts a hand and rubs his face hard, dragging clawed fingers from brow to chin like he’s trying to scrape the hunger out of his skull.

He leans closer. Breathes in. Then again.

“Fuck—”

It’s a hiss. Half-formed. Desperate. Almost makes you jerk back, not with fear or disgust, but with realization.

“Jack—people could walk in—”

“Don’t care,” he growls. Not harsh—just raw. Like it costs him to speak at all. “I'll kill them. You need to—fuck—open your legs.”

You’re already open, but you listen. You shift. Knees wider. Hips tilted forward.

The second you do it, he twitches. Full body.

And then he leaps. Not violent—but like a man dying of thirst finally handed a glass of water. He buries his face in your clothed pussy and groans.

You feel it all: heat, vibration, desperation. He’s nuzzling hard through the fabric like it’s not enough, like he needs skin, taste, your fucking soul. His breath is hot, fast. You can feel him mouthing you over the cotton, and it sends sparks ripping through your spine.

“Jack—Jesus—wait, I'm on my—”

“Exactly,” he growls again, this time muffled against your cunt. “I need this.”

He yanks at your waistband, fast but careful. Pants and padded panties yanked off your ankles and tossed behind him on the floor. He looks deranged, mouth slightly parted, nostrils flaring, sweat beading at his temples.

And then—without asking, without warning—he leans in.

You jolt when you feel the first tongue.

Wet. Hot and starved. It licks from the bottom of your pussy to your clit in one slow, savoring drag. A moan vibrates against you—deep, long, throaty—and you feel how hard he’s gripping your thighs now, claws pressing in like they’re the only things tethering him to the floor.

The second tongue follows. Then the third. One on your clit. One swirling around your folds to pick up any trace of blood like he's licking a plate clean. The last one dips inside.

You choke out a sound that’s not even a word.

Jack doesn’t stop. Doesn’t breathe. He’s full-body focused, shuddering between your legs like he’s being electrocuted with pleasure just from tasting you. His tongues move in urgent patterns—suckling, lapping, sliding inside you—and the third one curls deep, pumping in slow, sinful thrusts like he’s tongue-fucking your cervix.

He's drinking you. Literally. You feel the small gush as your blood mixes with your arousal and his growl deepens. His head tilts, adjusting his angle like he’s trying to get more of it, and he moans again.

Jack doesn’t moan. He barely talks.

But right now, he’s loud and messy and desperate, to the point where—if you could have a moment of clarity—you would think his mating season came early.

Slurping noises echo off the walls, obscene and wet. You realize again where you are—the common room—and your whole body flushes.

“Jack—fucking hell, w-what if someone walks in—”

His only answer is to suck your clit into his mouth while his third tongue curls up inside you, pressing so deep it makes your vision stutter.

Your hips buck. He groans, and the vibration rattles your bones.

He moves faster.

Tongue on your clit flicking now, licking in fast little swipes. Second tongue dragging figure-eights across your folds. Third tongue fucking you like it’s trying to crawl into your womb.

Your thighs are trembling. Your head tips back, hand flying to his head, burying in his hair. You feel his body—solid, trembling, tense with restraint.

You cum so fast it makes you choke.

It hits you like lightning, shattering through your spine, hips jerking, thighs locking around his head. You hear yourself whimper trying to stay silent, feel your body clamp around his tongues, and Jack just growls into you like it’s the best fucking thing he’s ever experienced.

He doesn’t stop. Not even when you’re shaking. Not even when the blood runs thicker.

He just pulls back slightly to breathe—and fuck, he looks wrecked. His mouth is soaked—chin slick with blood and spit, dark red smeared halfway up to his cheeks, coating his skin like warpaint. He stares at your cunt like he’s starving, heaving like it's hurting him to unlatch his mouth from your taste.

You see his hand now. The one not gripping your thigh with bruising force, wrapped around his cock. Fist pumping slow and vicious—like he’s trying not to cum from the taste of you alone.

Because he almost did.

You feel the heat of his stare. Like he’s burned every inch of your cunt into his brain. Like nothing else exists in this moment but your flushed, swollen pussy and the mess he just made of you.

He looks up at you with bloodied lips parted and tongues curling, one of them flicking over his bottom lip in a slow, hungry drag.

“You’re gonna cum again,” he says, voice rough and quiet like a threat. “You're gonna give me everything."

You whimper simply from the way he leans back in like he owns you, like he was born for this.

The first tongue enters slow this time—broad and heavy, pushing past your bullied entrance with a wet, obscene squelch. Your hips twitch. You’re already sensitive, but your body opens for him anyway, clenches like it knows what’s coming.

He groans low in his throat. You feel the way your blood drips down his tongue, how he laps it deeper inside you like honey from the comb.

Then the second tongue slips in. Coiling around the first like a twisting vine, filling and stretching.

You cry out softly, biting your lip. Jack moans, long and muffled and fuck just drown me in this pussy.

His third tongue curls upward, lashes across your clit in maddening, lazy strokes like he’s teasing you on purpose. Tongue-fucking up into your walls with two thick lengths, while the third plays you like an instrument.

You don’t even realize your legs are shaking again until your hips lift off the couch.

He follows, grinding his face deeper, mouth slightly clumsy from the way he's stroking his cock—so hungry and fast it's shaking his whole body between your legs. You glance down through half-lidded eyes just to see him leaking, twitching with every slick drag of his tongues inside you.

He’s drenched in you.

From the mouth down. His chin, neck, part of his chest where he pressed in too close. The scent of blood and heat clings to him like paint, thick and sweet and wrong, but he looks exalted.

“Fffuck,” he slurs against you. “Your blood—fuck, your cunt, tastes like fucking life—”

The words shake you. Filthy and sincere. He’s never been this devastated before, this starved. His tongues are working you over like you’re his last meal, like he’s feeding off of you. And fuck, maybe he is. Maybe something deep in his instincts, something more primal, is actually reveling in this.

His pace quickens. You can feel it—that edge coming again. Too fast. Too hard. Overstimulated but desperate, everything in your body pulling tight like a bowstring.

You grab at his hair, desperate to ground yourself.

One tongue thrusts hard, firm and deep. The second curls tighter, twisting against your walls. The third presses flat to your clit, and when he moans into you again, the vibration alone is enough to split you.

“Jack—Jack I’m—”

“Cum for me,” he growls. Muffled, throat clicking and rasping. Tongue still deep inside you. “Cum with my fucking name in your mouth.”

You do, and it leaves you raw.

Back arching. Hands clawing at the couch. Legs locking around his head so tight he grunts, but doesn’t stop. He leans into it, forces the orgasm to drag out, mouth still moving until you’re jerking, twitching, moaning high and sharp as your body convulses under the weight of your second release.

You have to pry him away with a weak hand on his forehead and a choked sob for him to unlatch his lips from your clit with a wet pop.

He’s panting against your pussy, blood and slick coating his face, and you can feel his body shaking between your legs with every feral pump of his fist, tight and harsh around his cock.

And he growls, low and feral, and you can only jerk back and look around to make sure no one was around as he cums hard between his knees, untouched by you, just from tasting your cunt and blood. Hot ropes splatter against the floor. His head tips back, face the most beautifully grotesque picture of bliss.

The room is silent but for your breaths. Heavy. Laced with the obscene stink of sex and blood and pure animalistic worship.

Jack wipes his face with the back of his hand only to lick the smeared blood off his knuckles. Not slow. Not seductive. Just hungry.

He looks at you like you’re the last thing he’ll ever need to taste.

“…We’re doing this every month,” he says, voice hoarse. “Every month.”

#eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack smut #eyeless jack creepypasta #eyeless jack headcanon #eyeless jack x y/n #period sex #blood k1nk #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta fanfic #jack nyras #creepypasta smut #smut

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wondoras · 21 days ago

Text

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ 𝒍et me take care of you

boyfriend!jungwon x reader fluff & comfort O.675 words stress from work food kisses bath not proofread

author's note: happy birthday, @globaloppaaa !!! i know i'm really late (since your birthday is on june 1st) but in my defense, i only saw your post yesterday :(( i know we're not friends but i saw your post about wanting a comfort fic with boyfriend!jungwon and i decided to make your wish come true (i tried, actually). i hope you like it and i hope you have an amazing birthday!!! also, i'm not sure about the word count because every site i used gave me a different answer, so i just stayed with the notion app count.

closing the door gently, you sighed tired, just wanting to take a quick shower and rot in bed for the rest of your weekend.

work has been stressing more than normal and any small thing that happened was piling up on your mind and body, to the point where you nearly knelt down thanking for being home.

taking off your shoes and putting your purse on the couch, you started walking towards the kitchen, where you heard a small commotion that caught your attention. there, you saw your boyfriend jungwon finishing cooking something on the stove, humming softly under his breath.

“wonie? i'm home” you said with a sweet smile, seeing him turn off the stove and practically run towards you.

“baby! i missed you so much” he whispered against your neck, hugging you tightly in his grasp.

letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding, you hug him back, closing you eyes to enjoy the hug and his calming scent of flowers. you two stayed like that for a few minutes, just basking in each other's perfume and love, before he let go and tugged you to the table.

“let's eat! i made your favorite!” he said excitedly, serving you before serving himself and sitting beside you, starting to eat only when you started.

you ate in silence, enjoying the food and each other's presence, and after finishing everything, you went to start washing the dishes, but was stopped by jungwon that just put the dirty dishes in the dishwasher and he pulled you into the bathroom, where the bathtub was waiting with the water still hot and several relaxing bath salts.

looking at jungwon confused, he gave a shy smile, playing with your fingers.

"i know how tired you are, so i decided to prepare a relaxing bath for you. i even put some petals because i know you like to play with them."

blinking to fight back the tears, you hug him, hiding your face against his chest.

"thank you, thank you, thank you." you murmured, feeling his chest vibrating because of his voice.

"you don't need to thank me, my love. i would do anything for you."

looking up at him, he smiled sweetly at you, kissing your forehead softly before taking a step back from the hug.

"you go relax and i'll go clean everything, okay? don't worry about it." and with a swift peck, he was out, humming under his breath.

taking off your clothes, you stepped inside the bathtub slowly, feeling the hot water starting to relax the rigid muscles of your body. you stayed there for a long time, only getting out when the water started becoming cold, wrapping yourself in a towel and going to the bedroom, where you put on a pair of shorts and an old shirt from jungwon as pajamas.

as soon as you finished changing, the door opened and jungwon entered the room, smiling lovingly at you.

“are you feeling better, my love?" he asked softly, walking towards you and hugging you by the waist.

“i am... thank you for this, wonie" you whispered, standing on tiptoe to kiss him.

it was a soft kiss, with you pouring every ounce of gratitude and love you had for him, for always being by your side, for always being your rock even when you don't think things could get better.

finishing the kiss with a few pecks, you smiled at him, feeling calm for the first time since this week started.

“let's go to bed, okay“ he said lovingly, pulling you to the bed and as soon as you lay down next to him, he pulled you to his arms, hugging you tightly.

“i love you” he whispered against your forehead.

“i love you” you whispered back, closing your eyes.

there, in his arms, you could take a step back and let him take care of everything for you, take care of you, and you would’t have it any other way.

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀© wondoras

#⋆ wondoras #⋆ wondoras books #enhypen #enha #enhypen x reader #enha x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enha imagines #enha fluff #enhypen jungwon #enha jungwon #jungwon x reader #jungwon #yang jungwon #jungwon fluff #jungwon imagines #jungwon scenarios

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jsprnt · 1 year ago

Text

a no-contact relationship break, is shaken when your boyfriend finds out you’re getting hit on by other guys

kenan yıldız x long distance! reader

A/N: Probably my last fic before I go on my writing break!! Based on this request, thank you babe!! 🤍

W/C: 1.934

you drop the pen in your hand, shifting your gaze from your notes to your pinging phone. the screen had been lighting up for the past few minutes. the repeated buzzing of the device started to piss you off, distracting you from your assignment.

you were currently studying in the united states, as an international student. in your first year of college, it was tough, to say the least.

you snatch your phone off your desk, squinting when the light emitting from your screen hits your exhausted face.

sighing, you unlock your phone, opening the messages in your notification center. your eyes widen slightly when you notice the sender of the- multiple messages.

kenan..

you had not spoken to him in a few weeks, it had been radio silent on both ends, so a sudden message made you worry..

you click on a message, being directed to your messaging app. glad you turned off your read receipts a long time ago. your eyes skim over the messages, your brows furrowing in confusion.

"y/n"

"i know we haven't spoken in a while"

"and you're busy with studying.."

"but I'm worried about you"

"don't you think we should talk?"

you let out a deep sigh, already knowing you're done for the day. placing your phone back down, you ponder to yourself. you turn your laptop off, slipping it into its case.

blowing out your scented candle, and placing your stationary back into its place, you stand up from your bed.

your happy that your roommate is out tonight. spending the night with her boyfriend. you didn't care if it was allowed or not, but being alone meant that it was the perfect night to- call him..

you grab a makeup wipe, wiping off any mascara residue on your face. you go on and do your nighttime routine in the communal bathrooms, next to your dorm room.

you jump into bed when all clean. pulling the blanket on your body, and shove your charger into the power socket next to your pillows, your screen lighting up when you plug your phone in.

sighing, you place your phone next to you, mentally trying to convince yourself to ignore the messages.

kenan and you were technically still in a relationship, just on a break for now. it had been a couple weeks since you both had decided to go on a break.

you still didn't know what you were to each other, especially when you were on a break. but, a situationship, could be an arguable term to use..

currently, your main focus is your academic goals. you wanted to study, get your education up, and widen your horizons.

as a young, recently turned adult- life was challenging to navigate. just like many of your classmates in high school, you decided to continue studying.

your appetite for education and academic achievements pushed you to focus on school, unlike kenan.

to him, his life was all planned out. he had graduated from high school, and the only thing he wanted to do for the rest of his life was play football until he physically wasn't able to, then retire, and live a calm life..

you loved him, of course. you tried to attend almost every match he invited you to, supported him when he was overseas, and made sure you respected the time he needed to train. before he came back absolutely exhausted, leaving no time for you to spend with him.

this lead to multiple arguments, for weeks, you'd told him about your concerns. you were worried you both would grow apart, without even noticing.

the entire conversation had come crashing down, when you had a full-on breakdown, after he had cancelled your date, with just a single, small sentence.

you stood there in front of him, dressed to impress, only to hear a soft 'I'm tired, sorry, liebe..", while he threw himself onto your bed.

your face had dropped, tears running down your face by the time you'd stopped yelling at him, telling him how 'fucking draining' it is to try to upkeep the relationship.

by the end of that night, you had both shed tears, curses and apologies leaving kenan's lips as he'd realized how you felt.

you had both come to the conclusion to go on a break, time apart would be better for the two of you. time to figure out your own identities, and trying to navigate what actually drove you to accomplish more in your young lives.

to get your mind off the situation, and to be alone for a while- you had immediately filled out an application to study in the united states for half your school year.

it was insanely difficult at first, but slowly you came to like your environment. meeting new people at multiple frat parties on the weekends, and having more friends than you could ever dream of.

you turn in your bed, and shift for a couple minutes. your eyes flickering to the clock on the wall.

it was almost nine-thirty, if you calculated right, like you've been doing every single time you think of kenan, it was almost three in morning in turpin, italy.

you wonder if he's still up, it's unusual for him to be up this late. he had a match tomorrow, you knew that because you definitely stalked him on numerous football apps.

old habits die hard..

you wanted to see his handsome face, those pretty eyes that looked at you like you were the most beautiful being on earth. his smile that had you cheesing, and not to forget, his fluffy hair.

the hair you would always run your fingers through, comforting him when he was sad, or verbally helping him sort difficult things out..

you scoff at yourself, just a couple weeks ago you were crying over the fact that he was too busy for you. now, seeing a couple texts from him, had your heart beating as fast as it was, when you first caught sight of him, back in high school.

you finally cave in, sitting up in your bed, back leaning against your cheap headboard. you turn your phone on quickly, fingers tapping on the all too familiar name.

it was all muscle memory at this point, and you suck in a breath before sending kenan a message.

"are you still up?"

"call me if you're up.."

you text, sending it, and rub a hand down your face. waiting for him to reply, or call you.

it only takes a few more seconds before you see your screen change, your reflection starting back at you.

a video call?

being honest, you didn't look your best. dressed in old pajamas, hair undone and skin going through it.

though, kenan had seen you at your worst already, and you had seen his worst as well..

you click on the green circle, adjusting your camera so you can, at least, look a little decent.

you hold your breath when he accepts. eyes roaming around his face. he looked noticeably different than the last time you saw him, in real life at least.

"hi.." you begin, blinking at him. silence falling in between you.

he looks exhausted, eye bags visible and dark, his fluffy hair all messy and unkempt.

"y/n.." he speaks your name, his voice thick and raspy. it obvious he hasn't slept yet, though he looks insanely tired.

"you wanted to talk?.." you speak, voice a whisper, even though you knew nobody could eavesdrop on you.

"I did, schatz.." the nickname falls from his mouth before he can stop himself, his expression turning visibly flushed.

"well, what did you want to say?"

"how are you? how's boston?"

"fine, it's better than I thought it would be.." your words feel empty, voice slightly quivering from nerves. "how are you?" you ask, shifting, so he can see your face properly.

he doesn't answer for a moment, eyes glued on you, before his lips part.

"good, training for the euros.."

"in germany? It's like three in the morning over there. why are you up?"

"you calculated that quickly.." kenan says, and you notice a glint in his eyes. the one he always does when he tries make you flustered or tease you..

"it's a six-hour difference, kenan.."

you hear his breath hitch after you say his name, and he moves out of frame for a moment.

"i miss you."

the words hit you like multiple bricks, your eyes widening slightly at the confession. you missed him too, you missed him to death..

"i want you here, liebe. right next to me, reading your little book, while you play with my hair. I can't sleep without you, schatz."

you gasp unknowingly, dropping your phone onto your mattress, before picking it up quickly.

you open your mouth to say anything, something- but you're beat to it by kenan..

"I can't stand it. I can't stand- knowing you're so far away. dressed in the prettiest dress, having fun, and partying all night. so many men coming up to you, asking for your number. I can't be there and keep them away from you. I can't keep you safe. do you tell them that you have a boyfriend? do you call me- us a situationship?"

you take his words in, looking away from the screen.

"how do you know all of that?" you ask, voice with a sharp edge to it.

"elena told me.."

your best friend, back home.

"what did she say?" you frown, sitting up straight.

elena and you had been the closest friends for years now. you would tell her absolutely everything, and talking about guys hitting on you was definitely something you told her last week.

"she dm'd me via instagram, remember when you made me follow her in case I needed to contact you, but your phone was dead?"

you hum at the memory, huffing and getting impatient.

"well, what did she say?"

"she told me you're partying. that's not my problem, of course. she told me you're getting hit on left and right. elena told me I should ‘get my shit together’ and reach out to you, before I lose you to any one of those disgusting frat boys.."

you watch his jaw clench, his facial expression blank as he looks into the camera.

“kenan..” you say, looking away for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts.

“I miss you too..”

your own words open the flood gates of your eyes, and you move your phone away from your face. soft sobs making your body shake and slump over.

“don’t cry, baby..” he whispers, his own brown eyes glimmering with tears, and he wishes he was right there, next to you..

“I can’t help it. I want to see you again, but will you ever change or actually want to be together?”

“of course I will, liebe. spending so much time away from each other, it makes me think of how I’ve treated you. I was an absolute idiot, but I want to make it right, baby..”

“how will you do that?” you ask, trying to wipe the tears away, though, they don’t stop.

he’s quiet for a moment, but speaks when he’s thought about it.

“okay, when you’re back in turpin, I want to see you. when you land, I’ll pick you up, and we’ll talk. is that okay, baby?

you nod almost immediately, slightly self-conscious about how desperate you to reunite with him.

“good, baby- now go to bed, okay? I know you have class tomorrow. sleep tight, I love you so much..”

“I love you too, kenan..”

#kenan yildiz x reader #kenan yildiz imagines #kenan yildiz #kenan #football imagines #football blurb #footballer x reader #football fanfic #football imagine #football #juventus #turkiye nt #turkiye

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sssssecret · 1 year ago

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While I'm doing the omo dungeon, I want to talk about a fantasy I've been having recently.

My dom is a bartender in a pretty popular bar, and I would be the sub and the bar urinal. I would have a funnel in my mouth and a catheter in my bladder with a funnel. A patron would come in and piss in funnel leading to my bladder. I would also have people pissing in my ass and pussy, with plugs in both so it can't get out. My dom would come in and I'd beg to go to the bathroom and empty myself. I would be begging so hard, I wouldn't even realize I was saying "please let me flush, your toilet is so full". He would tut and smack my bladder, saying that I need to be better at holding.

He would stick a ridged metal sound in my urethra and say if I push it all the way out, I'll be allowed to piss, but I can't stop for longer than 5 seconds, and if I did, he'd push it back in. He made it this way, knowing I would lose. I start pushing it out, piss coming out around it. I'd keep trying, but I'd pause to take a break, and it lasted longer than 5 seconds, making him push it back in. This would continue for awhile before he rips it out and I piss everywhere. He sighs, and says "We have to train your piss hole so that it can leak whenever I want it to, and be wide enough to fit a cock so I don't have to have ugly funnels. Patrons should be able to stick their cocks in your bladder and relieve themselves." My dom would then grab a thick catheter and plug it up inside me.

When I would be forced back out, there would be a small sign on it that says "Hole closed for maintenance" and my mouth open wide with a o-ring. A patron would walk in and sigh, disappointedly at that sign and stick their cock all the way into the back of my throat and piss, so far back I can't even taste it. I would be sitting there for days, my dom opening my pisshole up more and more until it's gaping. There would be a ring on my inner bladder that would make it so that I can't voluntarily piss without him activating an app on his phone. Even then, I would only be able to piss at most, 10 seconds at a time, not even enough to dent the big bulge inside me. I would beg and beg to be flushed, and he'd just sigh and say that my bladder capacity needs to be better, that I shouldn't be begging to be flushed every day. "Toilets should only need to be flushed every other week".

He'd take me away again and into a surgery room. He would press on my bladder and massage it, feeling how full it would be. He'd sigh again, and let me completely empty myself. I'd sigh in relief, but he'd still be talking. "I've custom made a sleeve to go over your bladder that will allow it to expand without bursting. It would also make it numb until your bladder is about to explode." He injects an IV into me and I start falling asleep.

I would wake up again in my usual place in the bar bathroom, but I wouldn't be able to feel my bladder. One by one, people come in and empty themselves into whatever hole they want. Most people would pick the catheter so they could piss directly into my bladder. It would take at least 3 days until I actually felt my bladder, and it would be full. I knew better than to beg though, so I would wait. It wouldn't be until Monday before the bar is opens when I'd be emptied. It would be after the weekend, and so many people would've pissed inside me, so I would be squirming while he opens the little device inside me and the piss runs down my legs and into a bucket, as toilets don't deserve to piss in anything else. I'd be so relieved, but not for long as the bar would be opening soon, and then I'd be filled with piss again.

#catheter play #bladder torture #bladder control #bursting bladder #human toilet #ftm ns/fw #piss kink #omorashi

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not-neverland06 · 6 months ago

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𝙲𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚜 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜

Pairing ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ Arthur Morgan x fem!reader

Next Part - Hell Hath No Fury Series

A/N: my stupid poor-people photo editing app stopped working so now my cropping is all off and I'm sad. My aesthetic 😭

Summary: Something brews between you and Arthur, but as always, the camp comes first. Despite the growing tension, Arthur must leave to rescue one of the gang who'd been separated in Blackwater. Jealously brews as a loud-mouth Irishman returns to camp and sets his sights on you.

Micah’s cough echoes through the camp and you wince at the sound. “He needs to see a doctor before he gets the rest of us sick.”

Arthur shakes his head and sighs, “Caught somethin’ from the Downes fella in town.” He passes you some coffee which you take eagerly. It’s part of a strange morning ritual you’d begun with him a few weeks ago. Just after the hunting trip, you’d taken to having breakfast with him if he happened to be in camp that morning. It’s become your favorite way to start the day.

You smirk slightly and nudge his side. “You’re welcome.”

He laughs and shakes his head at you, “I’m sorry?”

“Well,” you start with a teasing tone. “If I hadn’t needed a gentlemanly escort into town for some shopping, it would have been you calling in on those loans.”

He opens his mouth to argue but it stays hanging as you see the cogs turning in his head. He snaps his jaw shut with a reluctant sigh, “Suppose you’re right.”

“I always am,” you tell him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Arthur just laughs, passing you some bread. You hear a familiar set of footprints pacing outside the tent and roll your eyes, turning towards the entrance.

Sure enough, Mrs. Grimshaw paces around the perimeter of Arthur’s tent like a cougar. She sniffs when she catches your eye and turns her nose to the air, wholly pretending she hasn’t been stalking you.

“Shoo!” Arthur shouts, waving her off.

You let out a bewildered laugh, smacking his arm. “Arthur, stop,” you hiss, but you don’t sound very stern as you giggle at Mrs. Grimshaw’s affronted look.

“Go on,” he keeps going, pushing her further. “Get,” he snaps like he’s talking to a wild animal. Mrs. Grimshaw says something you can’t quite catch and stomps her foot once before running off.

You press a hand over your mouth, fingers pinching your lips to try and stop yourself from laughing. Arthur looks at you for approval and you only shake your head. “Come on,” he tries, “she’s been botherin’ us all mornin’. What was I supposed to do?”

“She’s not a dog, Arthur.”

“You sure ‘bout that?” He teases and you swat at his arm again.

You shake your head, letting out a heavy sigh. “I truly think she hates me,” you whisper, pouring yourself a little more coffee.

“She don’t hate you,” he reassures. You tilt your head with a deadpan look and he chuckles. “Well, maybe just a little.”

You sigh and shake your head, “Just because I married rich doesn’t mean I had an easy life.”

“I know that,” he objects.

You look up from your mug and furrow your brows. “Do you? You think I don’t see the way you look at me? You see the same softness they do. I just can’t figure out whether you like it or resent me for it.”

The playfulness of the morning is long gone. You seem to have a knack for ruining the moment. This question, though, has been haunting you for a while. Dutch is passive in his disdain for your upbringing—snide comments here and there but nothing quite so obvious.

A few of the girls question you about the privileges of being a lady a little too long for comfort. Then, the conversation will end with one of them sniffing and saying, “Must have been a nice life. Too bad you’re stuck with us now.”

There are always small moments like that to break the ridiculous idea you’ve got in your head, that you belong. No matter how hard you try to tell them, they don’t seem to understand that this freedom is better than anything money could have bought you. Your life hasn't been your own since the moment you were born. Sure, being on the run from the law and fighting for every penny wasn’t fun. But moments like these with Arthur would never happen if you were back at your estate.

With the others, it’s easy enough to see their resentment. But Arthur’s better at keeping his cards close to his chest. It took a while for you both to settle into something easy like this. Most of the time you don’t spend more than half an hour together a day. You don’t have a good enough read on him to determine whether or not he holds your past against you.

Sometimes, you think you might see just a hint of bitterness when he catches a glimpse of the smooth skin of your palms. But you never know if that’s real or something your paranoid mind has conjured up.

Arthur swirls his mug in his hand, a bit of the coffee splashing over the edge as it does. You squirm uncomfortably in your spot beside him. The sun has begun to heat up the canvas tent, but you know that’s not why you’re sweating.

He gives you a gentle smile that eases some of the dread building up in your chest. “I don’t care either way. And you shouldn't give a damn what the rest of these fools think. It’s what you’ve done with your life, with your money, that matters.”

You chuckle and shake your head, “You mean my father's money, and then my husband’s money. It was never mine. That’s why I care what they think. I’m dealing with their judgments every damn day and they know nothing about the truth of it all. I was a commodity, practically cattle to those men.”

Arthur’s brows furrow in that familiar way they do whenever you talk about the men of your old life. It doesn’t bother you to talk about them because you’re used to it and they’re gone. But you know it makes Arthur angry to think about it.

You’ve grown comfortable with each other, but it’s still a cold shock when he casually touches you. You glance down, eyes wide, as you see his palm covering your own. You look back up with a soft smile. “You’re smart, Arthur. Smarter than half the people here give you credit for. And far kinder than anyone I’ve ever met. " Your heart kicks up a beat when you see the way he refuses to meet your eye.

You’ll compliment him a million times a day if only to get him to start believing you. And maybe so you can keep watching that pink flush on his cheeks.

“That’s enough of that,” his voice is gruff with something you can’t quite name. Having enough sense to know when to stop you hold your hands up in surrender.

“Only saying the truth,” but you never can seem to stop yourself from pushing just a little bit further. Arthur shoots you a sharp look and you bite your lip to keep from laughing at him. You can see him start to wind up and prepare yourself for the brief scolding you’re about to receive. Once he’s done with that, maybe you’ll do what you’ve wanted for so long and ask him to accompany you to Strawberry.

You’ve been trying to work up the nerve as your last two outings haven’t gone wonderfully. You’re hoping a redo might help the both of you grow just a little closer. Besides, being away from camp seems to be beneficial to you both.

Approaching footsteps bring your conversation to an awkward halt. They’re not the heavy foot of Mrs. Grimshaw. This is someone else, someone much more welcome. You turn and smile at Charles as he hovers at the entrance of Arthur’s tent. Arthur scoffs and mutters something under his breath that you don’t quite make out, but it makes Charles grin.

Charles gives you a brief nod but his intentions are meant for Arthur. “Whaddya want?” Arthur snaps impatiently.

“Trelawney came back,” Charles answers shortly and your face pinches in confusion. Trelawney? You roll the name around in your mind but you don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone in camp mention him.

Arthur’s head perks up, the frown on his face softening just ever so slightly, but it's replaced by something more bitter. Curiosity or nosiness, you’re not sure, but rather than give in to the rules of common decency you don’t leave them to finish their conversation alone.

You try to lean back, pretending you’re not there so they’ll keep talking. “The hell did he want?” Arthur barks, tone still rudely short. You wonder what happened between him and Charles, they seemed to get along well enough a few weeks ago.

Charles's gaze darts briefly to you but he continues, “He’s got news about Sean. Says he knows where to find him.” Now, that name you know, if only through vague mentions. You know Karen does her damndest to keep a mention of Sean out of everyone’s mouths. And that he made it out of Blackwater alive but got separated from the rest of the gang. Other than that, you don’t know much about him.

Arthur gets to his feet and Charles backs away a few paces, leaving the two of you relatively alone again. Arthur looks down at you, something like disappointment on his face. “You need to go,” you assume before he can say anything.

He nods and you give him an expectant smile, “Then you better get moving, cowboy. I’ll be here when you get back.” He lingers for a moment like there’s more he wants to say. But your mornings together have always been short, you can’t imagine why that would have changed today.

He sucks in a sharp breath before nodding and heading towards Charles. You watch him go, your plans for the day being tucked away. You’ll ask him to town another time. As long as it’s anywhere but Valentine.

A prissy throat clears behind you and your head sinks between your shoulders with a heavy sigh. “Time to get movin’,” Mrs. Grimshaw commands, with far too much glee in her voice.

You’re sitting on an overturned bucket, running someone’s pants across the washboard. You hate doing this, especially in the brisk of the early morning. Your fingers have already pruned up from the frigid water and you can barely feel them anymore.

Your gaze drifts to your right, where the heaping pile of laundry lies, and you consider running off with Lady. You know whatever other chores Mrs. Grimshaw would come up with in retaliation would be a million times worse, but it almost seems worth it at this point.

You dismiss the idea, deciding to honor the unspoken rule of ladies staying in camp, and continue scrubbing. You think this might be Arthur’s blue shirt. You notice a few fraying edges and holes and make a note to fix them up for him once it’s dry. You only hope you don’t stumble across Uncle’s clothes while you’re doing this. That man has got stains in places that make you want to throw them in the fire, rather than wash them.

“Never gonna get used to a sight like this,” Sadie calls out as she walks up behind you. She kicks a crate over and throws herself down beside you.

“You will soon enough,” you let out a bitter chuckle and shake your head, “Mrs. Grimshaw’s got some vendetta against me.”

Sadie shrugs and picks at some dirt under her nails. The sun seems to crest just perfectly over her head, almost making her blonde hair glow. She seems to be getting better. She’s put some space between her and the O’Driscolls and has found a place in camp just a little easier than you.

Still, you know she’s struggling. She wants the freedom that your friendship with Arthur and Charles has granted you. You know she’s feeling cooped up here at camp. You’ll have to invite her for a ride sometime and see if that will help ease some of her anxiety.

“Nah, it’s not just you. That old hag hates me too. She thinks I’ve got ideas above my station.” You and Sadie turn, glaring at the back of Mrs. Grimshaw who is fussing at Lenny. You shake your head with a huff of laughter and turn back to the laundry in hand.

“I miss Jake,” Sadie suddenly blurts out. You freeze, hand still partially submerged in water as you debate how to approach this. Sadie’s always preferred the blunt way of going about life. You don’t think she wants simpering sympathy right now.

“Which parts of him do you miss?” You ask, trying to keep your tone light as you toss the shirt into the basket beside you.

“The non-controlling parts.” Sadie nudges your side with a laugh, “Relax, I’m not gonna start cryin’ on ya. I just miss runnin’ my own house, not being bossed around by a son of a bitch like that,” she says, motioning vaguely towards Mrs. Grimshaw.

“She’s not much better than my husband was,” you grouse, trying to drown out the woman’s voice.

“Ooh,” Sadie groans, tone laced with long-held resentment. “Forgive me for sayin’ it, but he was a real pain in my ass.”

You can’t help the grin that curls at your lips as you straighten up, momentarily abandoning the laundry. “You’re not my employee anymore, Sadie. Say whatever you want.”

“Right,” she shrugs, “He was a real bastard and I hope he became wolf meat.” Your lips pull back into something resembling a smile, but it's not fully there. You imagine the blood of your husband on your hands and it doesn’t fill you with the usually stifling nausea. Instead, it’s like a distant ache. You’re either growing numb to it or finally accepting that you’ve done the world a favor.

You suck in a deep breath and nod, “I hope the same.” Sadie lingers for a little while longer, not helping with the clothes, but keeping you company. You don’t talk about anything of much substance. Mainly her irritations with everyone in camp and you echoing the sentiment. She doesn’t like Pearson always trying to force her to cook with him and you hate being his taste tester. It doesn’t matter how much seasoning he adds, he doesn’t know how to make even half-decent stew.

When Sadie eventually leaves to finish her chores and you’re left all alone with your thoughts, you realize just how painfully slow the day passes by. You almost find yourself dragging the laundry out just to provide you some distraction from waiting for Arthur to come back.

You’ve both been lingering on the edge of something. You need to see if it’s all in your head or if there might actually be hope for the both of you yet.

You glare down at the basket of laundry at your feet and let out a heavy sigh. You reach for another shirt and begin scrubbing, keeping a careful eye on the camp’s entrance.

It’s not until the sky is illuminated with glowing swirls of orange and pink that Arthur and the others come riding back into camp. You’d run out of chores a long while ago and had just been restlessly pacing since then. Every time you so much as approached Lady someone would come by and distract you with some meaningless task.

You’d been sitting in the tent for the past hour, barely reading a book as you pray time moved faster. You stand now, hearing the cheers and whistles of the others. You move around the canvas, smiling when you see Arthur leading the men back into camp.

There’s a man on the back of Diablo, a loud-mouthed redhead that you’ve never seen before. You can only assume this is the infamous Sean they’d been after. Judging by the look on Arthur’s face, you imagine he’s been running his mouth the entire time since they rescued him.

He looks about ready to put a bullet in the young man as he drives him into camp. You see the others all taking notice of their return, Dutch being the loudest of them all. “Sean MacGuire!” He approaches Arthur’s horse, giving the boy a hand down and grinning widely. “Welcome back, son!”

His thick Irish accent catches you off guard, “Oh, ‘appy to be back, Dutch! ‘appy to be back,” he responds eagerly, a large smile on his face.

You hesitate by the fire, waiting for Dutch to finish before you go darting off towards Arthur. “I do think a return like this requires a celebration!” Dutch calls out to the rest of the gang. They whistle and cheer for him, Bill already rushing off to break out the alcohol. The gleefulness of the moment catches up to you, it eases away some of the anxiety balling up in your gut and you find yourself cheering along with the others.

Dutch keeps Sean tucked under his arm and begins to parade him through camp. You know this is a win for all of them. Even if someone here hadn’t liked Sean, getting one over on some bounty hunters is always a morale booster. Whatever your opinions on Dutch may be, you have to admit that he knows how to lead his people.

Even if you happen to think manipulate is a better word for what he does.

You watch Sean interact with everyone in camp, drawn into the boisterous energy he wraps himself in. It’s clear some of them are already beginning to find him a little annoying. But even his smart comments can’t seem to put a damper on the spirits of the night.

Your mouth ticks up slightly when you see Lenny slug him in the shoulder, yelling at him for letting himself get caught. You divert your attention away from the interaction, looking for Arthur. You feel a little bit of the giddiness give way to disappointment when you realize you’ve lost sight of him.

He’s no longer by the horses, Diablo having been hitched long enough to already start grazing the grass. You peer around the women’s tent and then take a few steps towards Arthur’s but he’s nowhere to be found.

Just as soon as you let yourself be disappointed by this, you also chastise yourself for becoming so infatuated. You’ve always had a bad habit of getting in your head and boosting your hopes up over something mundane. You’ve only just begun forming a friendship with the man and already you’re starting to fret over him. You’re not a schoolgirl anymore, you’ll have to grow out of this at some point.

You rub a tired hand over your face and suck in a deep breath. The aromas of camp rush over you in a wave. You can still smell the remnants of burnt morning coffee amidst the ever-present scent of the campfire and the fragrance of laundry that lingers on your hands. You can no longer tell if the mingling of odors comforts or irritates you.

You look up to the shining stars above and pray for a semblance of sense. Wrapping your shawl tighter around your shoulders you resolve to get over this infatuation with Arthur and just enjoy the night. If anything is meant to happen, it will do so naturally.

Dutch walks towards you as you begin to head towards the domino table. You force yourself to stop when you see the expectant look on his face. Sean trails along behind him now, already seeming to have found his way into some of the liquor.

“Mrs. Rowe!” Dutch calls out loudly, you give him a polite smile and he motions towards Sean. “I don’t believe you’ve met my good friend, Sean MacGuire. Mouthiest gunman in the west,” he adds with a smarmy grin.

You shake your head and hold your hand out to the boy. “Can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. And please, no need to be so formal.” You give him your name, and he perks up. Stumbling forward and attempting to shake the drunkenness off, he turns your palm and kisses the back of your hand instead of shaking it.

You can’t help but laugh a little at his performance. Molly suddenly calls for Dutch across camp and the three of you turn to face her. “Dutch, over here for a moment!” She waves him forward and Dutch lets out a long-suffering sigh with an easy smile.

“Duty calls, I believe the two of you can entertain each other for a little while.” He turns towards Molly, arms wide as he calls out, “Now, Miss O’Shea, what ever can I do for you?”

Sean quickly snags your attention again and you realize that he’s yet to let go of your hand. “Not a missus, eh?” He asks, his eyebrows waggling with what his drunken mind must think is seductiveness.

You stifle a giggle and shake your head no. “‘Fraid not. He’s not been gone long, but I’m happier for it.”

“Oh, and so am I, fair lady.” You shake your head with amusement. He’s nearly charming with all of his limitless swagger. “Now, I’ve just been cooped up in a camp with about fifty men with mugs nearly as ugly as these,” he motions towards the gang and you let out another unbidden laugh. “Would you care to dance with me?”

Your brows furrow, a disbelieving smile on your face. Leaning in, as though you’re sharing a secret, you tell him, “There’s no music.”

He pulls a little bit back from you, meeting your eyes as your breaths mingle with proximity. “Are you sure?” He asks, a mischievous look on his face.

You find yourself frowning in confusion, and then, almost as though they had planned it, Dutch puts a record on. It’s scratchy on his worn player, but the music fills the camp as he leads Molly into a sway.

Your lips part in astonishment and you forget for a moment just how close the two of you are. If anyone else saw, they’d think you were going to kiss. “How did you know he was going to do that?”

He waves you off and leans back. “Magician can’t reveal and all that,” he dismisses. “Now, a dance?”

You’re charmed by him, as much as you hate to admit it. Perhaps he doesn’t have quite the same effect on you as Arthur. But he’s handsome in his own way. Besides, who are you to deny a magic man a dance?

You let him lead you towards the fire and he draws you close. You’re surprised when his hand stays firmly on your waist and he keeps a nearly respectable distance between you both. You’re still what modern society would call a scandal, but this is nothing for a gang of outlaws.

“I’m sure I’ve never met you before. Where did they find you?” Sean spins you out and then twirls you back into his arms with a flourish that makes you breathless. You almost ask him where he learned to dance before you remember to answer his question.

“Up in the mountains. Some O’Driscolls came through, killed my friend’s husband, and kept us in a cellar.” You’re no longer surprised how easy it is for you to admit something like that. You’ve become desensitized to situations like your own the longer you’ve been in camp.

“O’Driscolls,” Sean’s face twists up with distaste and he shakes his head. “Nasty business.”

You scoff, “You’re telling me.” Sean’s gaze drifts behind you and the little color on his pale skin drains. It makes the freckles speckling his cheeks stand out remarkably. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Cutting in, MacGuire,” a rough voice calls out from behind you. Your feet still from where they’d been following Sean’s lead and you risk a glance over your shoulder. Arthur paints a fearsome portrait against the night sky. Impassioned by the sight of him, with the brim of his hat tipped low and the fire casting shadows across him, you hastily drop Sean’s hands and step back from him. “I’d go find your lady if I were you,” Arthur instructs Sean.

Confusion swirls through you before you spot a very angry, very drunk Karen walking past. “Rotten Irish bastard,” she mutters under her breath, shooting both you and Sean a nasty look. Sean chases, taking quick steps towards Karen without another word to you.

“Karen, it meant nothing, sweetheart. I only wanted a dance!” You let out a loud laugh as you watch him scramble after her.

“He’s a damn fool,” Arthur says through a chuckle, walking closer towards you. You smile, turning around and flicking the brim of his hat up so he doesn’t seem so imposing.

“You stole my dance partner, Mr. Morgan.” You accuse lightly, pretending to be cross with him.

He rolls his eyes with an attitude you rarely see from him. “I did you a favor. You don’t want to get involved with Sean.”

“No,” you tell him, “of course I don’t. I was only dancing. Can’t do that anymore now, can I?”

Arthur’s mouth opens and closes before he lets out a huff. “Well, you two seemed awful close. I thought that-” he cuts himself off and you frown.

You were only teasing him. Had he actually thought you were interested in pursuing Sean? You’d barely known the boy an hour. You pause, taking a step back and really getting a good look at Arthur. His shoulders are tense, though, not as tense as they had been a moment ago. The anger on his face, when he approached, had been real and not just the fire playing tricks.

The pieces connect one by one and you find yourself astonished. Arthur Morgan had been jealous over you.

That had to mean something. You couldn’t be reading into something like this. You might be a little desperate, but you weren’t a fool. You feel a flutter in your stomach and swallow down nerves. “Dance with me?” You ask, in a breathy whisper, sounding much more confident than you are.

His eyes widen and he grimaces, rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t know, sweetheart. I’m no good at stuff like that.”

You bite down your smile and lean forward, taking his hand in your own. They’re rough against the smooth surface of your palms but you relish in the feeling. “Neither am I. It was the one class I never managed to get the hang of in finishing school.”

You coax him forward slowly, drawing him into you and guiding his hand a little lower on your waist than you should. He takes your other hand in his own and leads you into a slow dance. It’s barely anything more than a sway, but you still feel exhilarated.

Even with the warning, it’s still a little surprising how awful you both are at dancing. “Even if you're stepping on my toes Arthur, I’m still much happier to be dancing with you,” you tell him, sincerity coating your throat like honey.

He looks away from you and sighs. “Don’t have to say that.”

Your brows furrow and you tilt your head, catching his eye. “Why would I lie?” He doesn’t respond, caught off guard by the question.

“Well,” he starts slowly, finally facing you again. He laughs a little at himself and shakes his head, “I don’t know why you would.”

“Because I wouldn’t,” you retort. “I don’t want to dance with anyone else, Arthur.” You know that sometimes he doesn’t always catch the hidden meaning, but you’re hoping he understands this time. You don't know if you could be any more brazen than you currently are.

His brows furrow and you can practically see the dots connecting when you begin to hear it. Low grunting noises, something almost like a whimper, slip out of the closed flap of John’s tent. You both pick up on it at the same time, movements slowing until you come to a complete stop. You stand, tucked into Arthur’s chest, and listen to what seems to be two people having a lot of fun.

“Is that-”

You’re cut off by a very loud, “Sean!” You gasp, hand covering your mouth as your eyes widen.

“Oh, Karen,” he sounds on the verge of tears and you practically have to bite your tongue to not laugh. You bury your face in Arthur’s chest, feeling it shake as he lets out a loud chuckle. “I’ve missed you so much!” You hear him begin to cry and force yourself to turn away before they hear you both laughing at them.

“Oh,” Arthur’s face screws up with disgust but he’s still laughing. “That’s just awful. Come on,” he keeps your hand in his, tucking you under his arm as he leads you away from the tent. He snags a bottle of something off a nearby crate as he guides you toward the trees bordering the camp.

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we don’t have to listen to that,” he mutters, nodding back toward the sinful tent. You clench your eyes shut, trying not to picture what the two of them are doing.

You feel your feet sink a little, mud lifting around the edges of your boot. You reach to lift your skirts, out of instinct, before you remember you’ve got your new pants on. It makes you smile a little, living without the weight of your old clothes.

“Arthur,” you stumble into his back as you trip over a branch and he quickly rights you. “Were you jealous?” You don't give much lead-up, hoping to shock the truth out of him.

He pauses and turns back to look at you. You smile a little impishly at him and he lets out a long-suffering sigh. “This way, woman,” he grumbles, tugging you towards a thinner patch of trees. You find yourself squeezing his hand absentmindedly, liking the comfort of holding it.

The moon illuminates your path forward and you feel your heart jump up to your throat. He’s led you to a small cliff face, a spot just large enough for the both of you, that feels incredibly intimate. The moon almost creates a halo around the area, lighting it up more than anywhere else in the forest.

Arthur lets go of you to tug off his coat. He places it on the ground and motions for you to sit. So used to fending for yourself and always being the last priority, something as simple as that has your heart skipping. “You didn’t answer my question,” you tell him as you take a seat.

He sits beside you, knee brushing against your thigh as he pops open the bottle of whiskey he’d swiped. He twirls it around in his hand for a moment before he places it down beside himself. Your stomach dips when he turns towards you, eyes intensely meeting your eyes.

You almost want to look away, the blue of them too intense to face. There’s honesty in his gaze and an intention you can’t recognize that forms a lump in your throat. “Yes. I was.”

Your lips twitch and you shake your head, slightly bewildered by how easily he admitted that. “I’m jealous every day I don’t get to call you mine,” he adds.

You used to be someone else’s. First, you were your father’s toy and then your husband's. When they called you theirs it was always with the intention of owning and using you. But it feels different with Arthur. It feels like handing him your bruised heart and knowing he’ll keep it safe. He says those words, and finally, you know that someone other than yourself is looking out for you.

His hand comes up, gently brushing some hair off your cheek and drifting down to the nape of your neck. You lean forward, following his guidance, as his head dips down. Your lips meet, and the warmth emanating from him makes you realize this is truly happening.

Cold from the stone below you seeps through his jacket and chills your legs. The feeling only further intensifies the startling realization that this is real. This isn’t one of your silly little fantasies. He’s kissing you and you aren’t doing anything.

You sit before him, stiff as a stone, not kissing him back or showing him any sign you’re enjoying this. He picks up on that and you can already taste the apology on his lips as he begins to pull back from you. So you dart forward, clumsily pushing your lips up against his before you completely ruin your chance.

He laughs against your eager lips, but you feel his relief in the way his shoulders slump and he relaxes back into you. One of his hands drifts down towards your waist, tugging you slightly closer, and you could melt into the feeling of him holding you.

He tightens his hold around you, drawing you back ever so slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “You sure you want to get involved with me? It ain’t gonna be easy.”

Unwilling to part for so long, you close the distance between the both of you and finally, let yourself give in to the sensations of this moment. His palm drifts into your hair and he tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

Perhaps due to his gruff outlaw exterior, you’d had the misguided notion that he wouldn’t be a good kisser. Men like himself seem like the type not to enjoy something as simple as a kiss. They’re used to just getting right to the point. You’re happy to discover just how wrong you were.

Those romance books Mary-Beth devours always describe something fleeting. There’s always fireworks going off as the two people you’ve been reading about finally kiss. This isn’t like that, there isn’t a spark that reignites a cold heart. You feel safe and comforted, like you’re finally coming home. This feels real, not like some passionate moment shared between two people that will never last.

Arthur pulls back, reluctantly, and you both catch your breath. “We should probably head back soon,” he whispers, eyes trained on your lips.

You nod your head, “Probably.” Neither of you goes to move, instead you tighten your hold on one another, basking in the moment of finally having what you’ve been coveting for so long.

Next Part end. — I do not own the characters or the game Red Dead Redemption 1/2, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2025. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

Hell Hath No Fury Taglist: @buckysblondie @littlebirdgot @heloixe @summerdazed @committingcrimes-2047

@m1stea @pokiona

#Arthur Morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x you #Arthur morgan #arthur morgan fanfiction #Arthur Morgan imagine #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x you #rdr2 imagine #rdr2 fanfiction #red dead redemption #red dead 2 #red dead redemption x reader #rdr2 #hell hath no fury

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sturniqlo · 11 months ago

Text

Gender Reveal- C.S

summary: y/n and chris decide to have a intimate gender reveal just the two of them, later in the day they tell nick and matt

cw: mild cursing, fluff, happy tears :)

an: i made a poll earlier this week and YOU guys chose the gender! (it's deleted so u all wouldn't see what was chosen) very short :/

masterlist | positive masterlist

-----------------------------------------------

eighteen weeks pregnant

"Y/n Y/l/n." Both Y/n and Chris look up and see their usual OB waiting by the door. Chris grabs Y/n bag and they both walk towards her. "Hey, you two!" She says cheerfully. "Hello, how are you?!" Y/n says. "I'm well, how are you and the baby?" She asks. "We've been good." She smiles, as she follows her. "Dad? How about you, how've you been?" She opens the door to the room they'll be in. "Pretty good!"

"Alright, so today will be like any other check up. But, I'll be able to see the gender of the baby. And, from what I remember from our last conversation you guys want me to write it in an envelope, correct." She asks the couple. "That's right!" They both nod. "Okay, Y/n go ahead and roll your shirt up for me." The OB gets the gel ready. "Ready? It's gonna be a bit cold just like those other times." She squeezes some gel onto Y/n's belly and she flinches at the cold gel. "Let's see here," She turns up the volume and the room fills up with the sound of a heartbeat. "There's the heartbeat, a very strong one." She giggles. Y/n gasps and looks at Chris who is looking at the screen then looks back down at her and hold her hand.

"That's crazy, my god." He mumbles. "Okay, here we have ten toes, they're all there, eyes, nose, mouth, ears." She points every one out. "At this stage, the baby can finally start to pick up on some sounds so it's great to start talking to them if you haven't already. The baby can also stretch, yawn, and make facial expressions. But looks like they're relaxing right now." They all laugh. Chris had already known all of this, thanks to the many apps he has downloaded. "Alright, I'm going to flip the screen to me to see the gender, any preference you guys have or think the baby is?" She moves the hand piece around Y/n's belly.

"Nope, we're fine with either." Chris says, "Yep, but I just have a feeling it's a girl. Not sure why but, if it's a boy I'll be the same amount of excited!" Y/n says. "Oh, okay, I know what they are. Let me go print the report out. You two want pictures?" They nod. "Here's a paper towel, hon. You can wipe it off and put your shirt back in place, I'll be right back." She hands her a handful of paper towels before she leaves the room.

"I'm excited! We're going to the bakery after this, right?" Y/n says, as Chris takes the dirty paper towels from her and throws them in the small trash bin. "Yeah, and we'll get to find out what the baby is! I'm equally excited as you are." He plants a few kisses onto her lips as he rubs her belly. A knock at the door brings them apart and the OB walks back inside the room. "Here are those pictures, and the gender of your baby is in here. Congratulations you two. I'll see you again in a couple of weeks. Enjoy your day!"

"Thank you!" They both walk out of the room and back to their car. At the bakery, ran by an elderly couple, they walk in and the sweet smell of baked goods makes them hum. "Smells so good in here." Y/n practically drools. "Chris! Y/n! Is it time?" The elderly lady, Jamie, squeals as she sees who has walked into her bakery. "Hi, Jamie! Yes, it's time." Chris laughs. "Here you go." Y/n hands her the envelope with the gender inside. "I'll be back in a few!" She says before disappearing into the back.

Chris and Y/n absolutely loved this bakery. They stumbled upon it a couple of months ago and never went back to any other bakery. A few weeks ago at their last appointment when they found out they were going to be able to know the gender the following appointment, they came to the bakery and places and order for a small cake for two people max and two of their big cupcakes. Jamie and Hank were excited at the thought of making their gender reveal cake for the young couple. The two had baked the cake and cupcakes earlier in the day and waited for the young ones to come in with the gender. All they needed to do was frost the right cake.

With one pink and one blue cake and two pink and two blue cupcakes sitting right in front of them they opens the envelope to see. "Don't be too loud, Hank. They're right outside." The old lady warned her husband. "Just open it!" She carefully teared the envelope open and saw the words of the gender in its corresponding color. "Oh well isn't that exciting, I knew it!" Hank said. "We both did, dear. Now come on let's frost them, don't want to keep them waiting too long."

"Here are the two cupcakes, and the cake!" Hank says as he comes out from the back. "Thank you so much, you two!" Y/n takes the bags from him. "Y/n, here the envelope. I sealed it back up." Y/n retrieves the sealed envelope from her. "Thank you!" Chris takes the bags from her. "Congratulations you guys! Hope to see you soon!" They both wave. "Oh we'll definitely be back!"

"It smells so good, we should've gotten some of the chocolate croissants. I ate the last one yesterday night." Y/n frowns as she places the bag with the cakes on top of the island counter. "I can run by later if you want me to go." Chris says wrapping his arms around her. "Thank you, you're the best." She kisses him. "Come on, let's cut the cake!"

Chris props up his phone on a tripod as Y/n takes a seat on one of the stools. "Okay, it's recording." Chris says, as he sits down on the stool next to her. He carefully takes the cake out of the box and sets it on the counter. "Oh, it's so pretty." She gasps, seeing the cake for the first time. "Alright, future child of ours. It's Mom and Dad and today we're finding out what you are! Boy or girl?" Chris says into the camera. "Mommy thinks you're a girl and I have no clue but I'll be over the moon for either. You can do the honor." He hands Y/n the knife. "Okay, let's close our eyes!" She tells Chris. "Careful, babe." He closes his eyes. "I'm cutting it, okay, next side!" She slices the cake. "Ready?"

"One, two, three!" Chris counts and Y/n picks up the slice once they open their eyes.

It's pink!

"It's a girl, oh my god. You were right!" Chris automatically gets up, holding onto his hat as it almost falls off. "Chris, holy shit!" She drops the slice back into place and Chris engulfs her in a hug. "We're having a girl!" He mumbles in her neck "I can't believe it!" The recording of the camera long forgotten. "This is crazy, can't believe you were right." Chris looks back at the cake, the pink crumbs seeping through. "A mini you, baby. Oh my god!" He covers his face with his hands tears welling up in his eyes. "Stop, you're making me cry." Y/n starts bawling. "I'm so happy!" Chris wipes his eyes and hugs Y/n who is sniffing.

Minutes later, they sit back down and try the cake. "Mm, delicious." They pick at the cake with a fork. "Oh! We're still recording!" Y/n points at his phone with her fork, dropping some crumbs in the process. "Oh, well! Looks like you're a girl! We're so happy and we can't wait to meet you, our little girl!" They cheer.

After eating half of the cake together, Chris facetimes Matt and Nick. "Hi, where's Y/n?" Nick says as he answers the call, still waiting for Matt to join. "Hello to you too." Chris scoffs and Y/n giggles besides him. "Hi, Nick. I miss you!" Y/n says as Chris presses the ring button on Matt's square. Seconds later Matt's face comes into view. "I didn't answer the first time because I'm on the fucking toilet." Matt's voice echos. "Are you guys doing anything later today?" Chris ignores Matt's words. "Nope, jus' staying home." Nick fixes his nose ring looking at himself through his square. "What he said." Matt says.

"Great, come over whenever you guys can." Chris says, Y/n leaning her head on his shoulder. "Why?" Nick says. "Do you not want to see me?" Y/n scoffs. "Of course I do!" He says. "Just come over!" Chris rolls his eyes at his brothers' stubbornness. "I'll make the pasta I always make for you guys." Y/n bribes them. "Oh! Nick start getting ready!" The call ends a few minutes later. "Can't believe I bribed them with pasta."

Both Chris and Y/n wanted to catch Matt and Nick off guard with the gender. Whenever they asked when they would be able to know the two always shrugged, already knowing the answer. "Let me go put the pasta to boil." She gets up and Chris jokingly swats her ass. "Chris!"

Just as the pasta is ready, Chris' phone starts to ring. "Hello, okay I'll buzz you guys in." He hangs up. "They're here." He jogs to the buzzer by the front door before unlocking the door and going back to Y/n to go over the plan. "Hi, Y/n!" Nick walks through it door and walks towards the kitchen. "Hi, Nick!" She hugs him. "I smell the pasta." He sniffs the air. "Do you want some already? Hey, Matt." Y/n says as Matt comes to give her a side hug. "Please, I'm starving."

Thirty minutes after they've all finished eating, they offer them the cupcake. "You guys want a cupcake?" Y/n asks. "Sure." Both Nick and Matt say at the same time. Chris walks to the fridge, and takes out the two individual boxes. "Here, but take a bite at the same time." Nick looks confused. "The hell? Why?" Chris groans. "Just do it." They open up the box of the cupcake and peel back the cupcake sheet. "You guys aren't having one?" Matt says. "No, we had one earlier." Chris goes to stand next to Nick.

As they go to take a bite, Y/n takes out her phone and starts recording. Matt pulls back from taking a bite and looks at the inside of the cupcake furrowing his eyebrows. "Why is it pink inside?" He chews. "Mine too- wait! No way!" Nick yells and gasps. "What?" Matt gets scared widening his eyes. "They're having a girl!" Nick throws his cupcake in the box and hugs Chris and then goes to Y/n to hug her. "Wait- Really?!" Matt smiles looking back at the bitten cupcake. "Yeah! We found out today!" Y/n giggles, and stops recording to hug Nick back comfortably. "Congrats, holy shit!" He daps Chris up and gives him a hug.

"I knew it! Matt owes me a hundred dollars." Nick goes back to his seat and takes a quick picture of the cupcake for memories before finishing it. Matt goes up to Y/n and hugs her telling her congratulations. "You thought it was a boy, Matt?" Y/n says, pulling away from him. "Mhm, I just had a feeling, not sure why." He goes back to bit seat and does the same as Nick.

"You're gonna have a little queen, oh my god." Nick laughs at his own joke.

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martinluvrr · 1 year ago

Text

FLATLINE | PAIGE BUECKERS

⋅˚₊‧ paige x fem!gf!reader

⋅˚₊‧ summary: y/n and paige experience what it means to be in a long distance relationship, but with the distance between them, can they overcome it?

⋅˚₊‧ warning : secret relationship, angst (kinda) ,long distance.

⋅˚₊‧ duayaps: first post🥳🥳🥳.

⋅˚₊‧ inspired by flatline by justin bieber.

⋅˚₊‧ nav ||

"I'LL MISS YOU" paige muttered against her neck.

"it'll go by before you know it" y/n said pulling away from the hug. When college applications started being filled, she took a big risk and applied for Politecnico di Milano, a fashion uni in Milan, Italy. She had already said goodbye to her parents, thinking that was the hardest goodbye she could imagine, but the tears in her eyes from saying goodbye to her girlfriend right now, told her she lied to herself a while ago.

Paige and y/n had always had a rocky side of their relationship, for one, it was a secret waiting to bomb the world, two, they always knew that long distance was going to be a thing for them. With Paige going to Uconn and Yn going to PDM, 'it was already doomed' said by most people. But overcoming the rocky side of their relationship, there was the fairytale side. The one where they in love, where they supported each other in everything, where they took each others first kisses, first everything. They were each other's lifelines in a way, they didn't go a day without speaking to each other.

They both hoped that these future 4 years, weren’t going to change their feelings of each other.

✩

Lately you've been busy, wondering if you miss me

Why did you go against me? I just wanna know

How come you act so different? Talk to me, I'll listen

All the love I'm giving, don't act like you don't know

“…leave a message after the tone” y/n sighed as she hung up the phone. It was 7am and her alarm had just gone off, Paige was most likely asleep. It’s 1am at Storrs.

If you put the time difference aside, they were doing well. Both of them spent at least 2 hours everyday on the phone and haven’t had an any problems yet.

But it’s only been 5 months. 7 months and 3 years to go.

Y/n was glad Paige settled in great, she got along with her teammates and had a great support system there. Paige became a media star, with that came many fans. While y/n wasn’t the jealous type, these fans were wild.

She opened her instagram app, and slowly started to scroll through stories. When she stopped, went stiff. “Oh” she muttered, her girlfriend’s teammate, Aaliyah, had posted a story with the Uconn women’s basketball team having fun ,at what she would guess, a bar. Paige is in the background , a girl sitting next to her, whiles shes on the phone. Y/n quickly checked when the story was posted,10minutes ago.

‘Okay so she could’ve just posted this when she came home’ y/n quickly assured herself. Paige wouldn’t just ignore her calls, especially on a night out, right?

As those thoughts filled her head, a notification sound came from her phone.

pb 👩🏼‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏽

gm baby. can’t talk, tired, going to bed.

y/n didn’t think anything, she couldn’t. She just typed ‘sweet dreams💗’ and hit send.

no i love you, no ily, not even an emoji.

‘Stop, don’t overthink this ,shes just tired’ she told herself. She shut her phone off and got out of bed, leaving her thoughts about P in her comfy bed.

It had been a month since the bar incident, and everything seemed normal, until a week ago.

Y/n just got out of work, a small intern job to help her graduate early. It was 6pm in Milan, and 12 in Storrs.On her way home, y/n called P.

The phone rang, 1,2,3 times before she hung up. Tried a gain, 1,2,3. User is busy.Paige had hung up on her, she didn’t think much of it. ‘She’s probs busy’.

That was 6 days ago.

While they exchange texts, no calls were made this week. Paige was busy, like really busy, But not busy ‘not go out with her friends for the 3rd time this week’ busy. Y/n got it, freshman year, new teammates, she had to have fun. She also knew that their relationship was on the down low. Even though she assured Paige that it was okay to tell her teammates, P reluctantly agreed. ‘I don’t know, i’ll see’ She muttered to y/n, 2 weeks ago on their normal facetime call.

Y/n didn’t want to think much of it, she didn’t want her overthinking to brew a fight. The last 2 years she was back home, her and paige had never gone a day without speaking to each other, but so what it stopped now?, it was common sometimes to not call. So she let it be, but Paiges text became more and more rare,more dry and definitely more weird.

But y/n knew, paige was just busy.

✩

Girl you always catch me at the bad time (Bad time) When I know you probably think it's a lie (A lie) I know I told you last time was the last time (Last time) How could you pull the plug and leave me flatline?

On the other end of the phone. Y/n hit the red button, and ended the call. She hit her head on the wall behind her in frustration, thankful that the call wasn’t on facetime and Paige could see her sad face.

Y/n had called in sick at work so she could watch Paiges game in peace, her boss gave her an earful, because it was one of the more busier seasons in the fashion world, but she let her be ‘sick in bed’. She was proud of Paige, and was the happiest for her.

But the mood drifted when she heard the voice tell her they need her. ‘I need her too’ Y/n thought. This was the first time in a month that Y/n heard Paiges voice. Her heart clenched when she heard her sound weird, it sounded like she was frustrated. Frustrated with who though, with y/n?.

As time went quick, it felt like Paiges texts were more rare, and even more dry. And Y/n didn’t know if Paige was aware of the way she was acting, she also didn’t know if she should say anything, Paige was a freshman in college having fun, alone,without Y/n next to her.

If Y/n were to say anything, she didn’t want to seem like the bitchy jealous girlfriend that only wanted Paige to spend time with her, she just wanted Paige to spend some time with her.

It felt like their relationship was a bomb, and their time was running out quickly.

How could you pull the plug and leave me flatline? (Flatline) Cause when I hit you, you don't even reply (Reply) How could you pull the plug and leave me flatline?

✩

Not breathing, what is it I'm not seeing Said she's leaving, damn I can't believe it It's like my heart's bleeding knowing that you don't need me Shut my heart down, now I don't know what Imma do now

“… i just need some space y/n” Paige said with frustration, a sigh coming after. Y/n’s heart dropped.

It all started an hour and a half ago.

Paige went out with her teammates after a late night practice, forgetting that y/n was waiting on her phone call that she promised she would do after practice.

After she came home, she was bombarded with messages from Y/n. 8 to be exact.

y/n💍

hey did you finish practice?

- 8:15PM

you ready?

- 8:18PM

paige?

- 8:20PM

paigeeeeeeee???

- 8:30PM

pbabyyyy

- 8:35PM

pls tell me u didn’t forget

- 8:45PM

paige are you fucking kidding me

- 9:45PM

it’s our anniversary

- 9:45PM

call me when you get home and make sure you’re not busy

- 9:50PM

And when she called, the yelling happened. It was the first fight they’ve had in a while. While Y/n finally exploded demanding to know what’s happening with her, Paige only had one thing to say.

“I think we should take a break”

“What?” Y/n whispered after a long pause.

“i’m not ready to be in a relationship Y/n/n, i’m still questioning what i want, and i don’t know if its you yet.” Paige said. “I’m sorry, i just need some space Y/n”

Y/n heart dropped, she didn’t know what to say or think. While Y/n knew that not everything lasted, Paige was a sure thing. Paige was her lifeline. What was she going to do?.

Y/n gulped and said the only thing she knew she could say “It’s okay”.

‘It’s okay?’ Paige was taken back. Had Y/n want to breakup before?, and then Paige shockingly felt hurt in her chest, her stomach slightly dropped. Why was she feeling like this? why isn’t she feeling relief?. This has been on Paiges mind for the past 3 months, wasn’t this the solution?

“Go be a superstar but don’t expect me to wait for you while you figure out what you want to do” Y/n said, her voice sweet. Not even a slight tone of bitterness.

Y/n still wasn’t able to move from her spot on the kitchen counter. Tears were streaming down her face, and before a sob sound could come, she hung up the phone. All Y/n knew was Paige, but know she didn’t even know that.

She had literally left her clueless, without her lifeline. now flatline.

✩

- 5 MONTHS LATER -

Paige stood there, watching from her afar.

“That’s her?” a croatian accent asked. She felt Nika sit beside her. “Yeah” Paige answered still in awe of her.

“She’s really pretty” Nika said. Paige nodded agreeing with her. She was wearing a flowy white short summer dress with cowboy boots.

It was Drews birthday today, and as the team had some off time, Drew invited them to his barbecue party. And the weekend before his birthday, he ran into Y/n. Of course the boy was oblivious to the breakup and while he asked still asked Paige for Y/n, she didn’t have the heart to tell him that they broke up.

So when Drew begged Y/n to come to his birthday party, Y/n didn’t know what else to say but yes. He could literally get whatever he wanted out of everyone.

At first, Y/n debated if she should just call Paiges stepmom and cancel, or she should just go and pray that Paige couldn’t make it.

Well, Paige had come. And so did the rest of the huskies. When Y/n saw them, she sighed. Although she was friends with Azzi, she didn’t know the rest of them, but by the look on their faces when she came in, she knew that Paige had told them her history.

Azzi, being the sweetheart she is, excitedly came running to Y/n and hugging her tight. The whole party they caught up with each other, with Azzi telling her about Uconn and Y/n telling her about studying abroad. For the past 30 minutes they’ve been talking, not once have either of them mentioned Paige.

Y/n turned, meeting Paiges eyes. The two of them made eye contact with each other again. Y/n then heard Azzi laughed, when she snapped her head to look at her friend. She saw a small teasing smile on her face. “Don’t even start” Y/n said, glaring at her. She got up and made her way to the other side of the backyard, where there was no Paige in sight.

“Y/n/n” she heard a child scream. Drew was suddenly hugging her legs. “Hi Drewsky” she laughed, beginning to tickle him. She felt the boy starting to laugh, and start to kick her hands away, while Paige and her were together, Drew became a big part in their relationship. Paiges parents often made Paige babysit Drew, and Y/n just tagged along. Through that time, Drew and Y/n became close, Y/n considered him as a baby brother. She would miss him.

“Paigeyy help me” Drew screamed laughing. Y/n became stiff, the hair behind her neck stood. She could feel her ex behind her as she let the little boy go and stand up.

Paige and Y/n stared at one another. Paige was thankful her teammates weren’t around right now, they would be on her ass all day after this.

“Hi” Y/n whispered, looking away from her and to the ground.

“Hey” Paige said back. “How’ve you been-“

“Paige please no small talk, what do you want?” Y/n cut her off. This was already awkward enough, no need to make it even more.

“Uh” Paige stuttered, a sigh coming after. “I missed you” Paige admitted. Y/n’s blood boiled, now she missed me?

Paige could sense Y/n anger, she placed a hand on Y/n elbow, tugging her from leaving. “Please just wait” Paige pleaded “I’m sorry, i just didn’t know what to do i kept having all of this kind of feelings and i know i was busy but i swear just one more chance-“

“Paige” y/n cut her off

“- and i’ll promise i’ll try harder-“ paige continued

“-stop-“ she tried to stop her

“please just give me one more chance”

“-okay” she agreed. Paiges eyes went wide, she didn’t think she would get her to agree that easy.

“I only needed you to apologize P, i only want you to make some time for me thats all. And if were really trying this again you have to be sure you want this because i don’t know if i can handle loosing you again” She said still looking at the ground.

Paiges heart dropped hearing her voice break. Although she knew how Y/n felt, Paige had been nothing but moody,grumpy and miserable these past few months. Seeing Y/n today, brought her hope that she had a second shot with her.

Y/n slowly picked up her head, and looked up at Paige. Paige was jaw dropping hot, and she knew that, her head couldn’t get any bigger by her ego.

Paige reached a hand towards her waist, pulling Y/n towards her. When she did, she slowly dropped a sweet kiss on her girlfriends lips, when she pulled away, her forehead dropped to Y/n’s.

She felt like she could finally breathe, her chest no longer hurt. She had her lifeline back.

✩

#Spotify #paige bueckers #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers imagine #huskies #uconn #nika muhl #azzi fudd #aaliyah edwards #paige bueckers headcannons #wnba #lesbian #dua writes

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kaliforniahigh · 10 months ago

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Fic request idea? You and Noah have happily been together for a few years. Your next anniversary happens while he's on tour so you secretly coordinate a plan with Matt to surprise Noah in whatever city they're in. After you get to the hotel, you look for Noah. You find him outside by the pool area talking to a pretty girl in a bikini. The girl puts her arm around him and takes a selfie. She keeps her hand on him way too long and gets a flirty look on her face. You've seen other fans interact with Noah and are always unbothered but now you've never felt so jealous and sick to your stomach, so you go back to your room. What you didn't see was Noah politely remove the girl's hand and turn her down. After a brief nap, you still feel really sick and emotional (more so than usual) and Noah doesn't know you're there yet so you debate if you should just go home. You can fill in the next parts but include lots of angst, avoiding each other, avoiding calls/texts, reader still feeling sick, talking about that misunderstanding. It all ends with you telling Noah "I'm pregnant".

I love dad omens :((( Thank you the request. I hope you like it! Hopefully I didn't stray too much from what you wanted.

Warnings: pregnancy, vomiting, reader is insecure, jealousy, a little bit of angst, happy ending. I think that's it. Noah is ecstatic about being a dad.

WC: 4k (I haven't proofread this yet!)

Requests are closed for now.

Eight years was a big milestone. It's been eight years since you've been dating the love of your life. Spending anniversaries apart wasn't anything unsual for you two. Noah was on tour for the most part of the year, and chances are he would be somewhere far away when the day of your anniversary arrived.

This year was no different, he was all the way on the east coast, while you stayed in your California home. But something felt different this time around.

It was no secret you and Noah had a very active sex life, that became even more active whenever he was about to leave for tour. However, you were both very careful every time. He always wore a condom, since you couldn't be on the pill due to health reasons.

A few weeks after he left, you started to feel the first symptoms. At work, you noticed you needed to use the bathroom so frequently, you sworn you were in the bathroom every fifteen minutes to pee.

You felt more tired than usual, almost being late for work a couple of times, since you couldn't open your eyes long enough to get up from the bed.

At first, you thought your immunity might be too low or that you needed to take some vitamins. But when the nausea and vomiting started, it got you more concerned. You decided to check your app to see when was the last time you have gotten your period.

You suspicions were confirmed when you saw that you didn't get your period at all this month. Running to the pharmacy, you thought that buying a pregnancy test was your best option until you could get a consult with your doctor.

While you were cruising the isles, you thought about Noah and how he would feel about this - if the test came out positive. You've been together for a long time, and you've discussed having a family many times over the years. Getting married and having kids were on your agenda, but not for right now.

You were both under 30 and he was so busy with the band, you could see the problem in trying to raise a baby when he was so far away for months on end.

You lived in a different state than the rest of your family, so having a support system here in California would be so difficult. You would be on maternity leave, sure, but at some point you would have to go back to work, and who would take care of your baby then? You didn't want to put them in daycare so early.

Your mind was running with a million thoughts, as you grabbed two Clearblue tests and ran to the checkout line. The cashier noticed your uneasiness and didn't attempt to make any small talk.

Now, you were sat on the toilet as you eyed both tests, gathering the courage to take them, because once you did, the situation would become very real.

You wished Noah was here with you. You didn't care if would freak out or stay calm, you just needed someone to do this with you. You debated calling him, but decided against it. You wouldn't tell him a life-altering information with him on the other side of the country.

You had no other choice, so you took your pants and underwear off to pee on the stick that would probably change your life forever. You watched the countdown on the stick with a bated breath. You looked away, not being able to look at it as it did it's thing.

You gnawed at your nails, biting them and even drawing some blood in the process, legs bouncing incessantly. After a few minutes, you grabbed the test again and looked at the little display.

Pregnant.

Tears welled in your eyes as you put the test back on the counter. Crying was the best response you could conjure up right now, so that's what you did. You sat on the bathroom toilet and cried your eyes out, sobs racking through your body as it became difficult for you to breath.

After minutes of this, your body began to feel exhausted and you seemed to be running out of tears. You tried to breath more evenly now, standing up from the toilet, you washed you face and blew your nose. Not being able to do much else with how emotionally exhausted you were, you decided to just go to bed and sleep this off. Tomorrow was Saturday, so you had the whole day to think about this.

You went under the covers and grabbed your phone, looking at some pictures of baby Noah that he has sent you over the years, a little smile playing on your lips at the sight of him so cute and so small.

You wished for your baby to have his eyes, his beautiful voice and kind heart. You wondered if they would have his dark, straight hair or your light and slightly wavy one. You wanted them to inherit his height so you could get them in some kind of sport, maybe basketball or volleyball. Or maybe their dad would teach them how to play an instrument and they would be in a band as well.

Your heart felt a little lighter at all the scenarios you were conjuring up in your mind. Your eyes felt heavy from all the crying and soon you were plugging your phone to charge on the bed side table, cuddling up to Noah's blanket, drifting off to sleep thinking about the little human you were growing inside of you.

The next day, you texted Matt and started to organize a surprise for Noah on tour. You knew they had a two day break next week, so you would use those days to surprise him and tell the - hopefully good - news.

You spent the week getting your bags ready and the house organized before you left. You even took the time to run to the store and pick up a baby onesie that said "rad like dad" on the front, along with a box for you to put it inside with the pregnancy test you kept.

You thought about scheduling a doctor's appointment before traveling, but you wanted Noah to be there with you, and since tour was wrapping up not too long after you visited, you decided to wait.

Even though you felt like he would be happy with the fact that you were going to have a baby, you still needed to be prepared to talk about your options if needed.

As you sat on the plane, thousands of feet up in the air, you willed the discomfort in your stomach away. You knew that the possibility of you feeling sick on the flight was real, but you would avoid it as much as you could. You rubbed your still flat belly, a silent way to tell your baby to settle down, as you closed your eyes and tried to nap.

The next time you opened your eyes, there was only an hour until you touched down. You coordinated everything with Matt. You had your room you would be staying in to get everything ready for your surprise. It wasn't much, you just planned on leaving the box with the onesie and pregnancy test inside on the bed for him to see when he came into the room.

It was a nice hotel, with a big pool according to what you saw online, and you totally intended on taking advantage of that, soaking in the sun and playing in the water.

After you landed, there was an Uber waiting to take you back to the hotel, Matt assured you they all went out for lunch, so there was no chance of you running into Noah in the middle of the hotel lobby.

Checking in, you took your bags up to your room, taking a few clothes out and hanging them inside the closet. You put your toiletries in the bathroom and took your airplane clothes off in order to take a warm shower and change into some new clothes.

You were drying your hair when your phone pinged with a succesion of text messages.

Noah: Hi, my sweet love. The boys and I went out for lunch and now we're sitting by the pool.

This is the life.

Wish you were here with me. I love you so much.

You smiled the biggest smile of probably the entire week. He had that effect on you every time.

You: Hi, baby! Enjoy the pool for me. Can't wait to see you again! I love you more <3

You replied and decided that a trip downstairs to the pool was in order.

You grabbed the box, onesie and pregnancy test you brought with you and set everything on the bed. You were glad you haven't messed up the bed yet by yanking the covers off, this way everything looked more put together.

You put on your bikini and before you put on one of Noah's shirts over your body, you looked at yourself in the mirror. The thought of having a baby didn't terrify you as much anymore, and you actually pictured yourself sporting a beautiful baby bump, a sign of the love you and Noah shared.

Snapping out of your reverie, you grabbed some sunscreen and your sunglasses and made your way to the pool area. You staked the place out first, trying to sneak up on him.

You saw him in the distance, along with Jolly and Folio. He was taking pictures with a couple of fans and you didn't think much of it, until you observed a little and saw that he seemed awfully comfortable with these barely clothed girls.

You were never jealous, you actually thought the pictures he took with fans were cute most of the time, and he was always respectful, mindful of his hand placement and avoiding getting too close. There were actually a few pictures out there of him doing the hover hand, not wanting to touch another girl's waist.

But this time, not only was his arm wrapped around her middle, his hand was clutching her waist, her body sticking to his, boobs - covered only by the thin cloth of her bikini top - smushed on his chest. You looked at his face for any sign of discomfort, but he was sporting a grin on his lips.

The girl wraps her arm around his torso as the other girl behind the cellphone snaps the picture. As they were separating, she took the opportunity to take his hand in hers, and you saw a look on her face that only another girl would recognize.

It was a look of hunger and she was blatantly flirting with him. His grin never faltered and you were left wondering why in the hell were his hand still holding hers.

You didn't stay to see the rest of their interation, a wave of nausea hitting you and you were sure if you didn't run back to the elevator you would throw up all over the place.

As soon as you entered your hotel room, you barely had the time to close the door behind you and ran to the bathroom, spilling all of the contents in your stomach into the toilet. You threw up until there was nothing left to come out, and you wondered if it was the pregnancy making you feel sick or if it was what you just witnessed.

Either way, you sat on the bathroom floor, all the energy and excitement leaving your body, as well as the confidence you build up about having this baby.

Noah was young, he toured the entire world and met so many new faces. What if one day he decided you weren't enough for him anymore and he needed someone new, someone more exciting. You didn't want to ruin the rest of his life by tying him to you because of your baby. You knew relationships like that always became bitter and hateful.

Your phone buzzed next to you on the bathroom counter and you saw it was a text from Matt.

Matty: We're by the pool. Noah went up to his room, do you want to surprise him there?

You sighed. That was your plan, but it all completely fell apart just minutes ago.

You: I don't feel so good. I think it was the flight.

Matty: I have some medicine in my room, do you want me to drop it off at yours?

You debated on what to tell him. It all felt so painful having to deal with all of this on your own. Maybe talking to someone would do you some good. Matt was always good at giving advice, and he knew Noah as well as you did, maybe he could shine some light in your situation.

You: ok, I need to talk to you, though, it's kind of serious.

Matty: oh shit, I'll be there in 5.

You only had time to brush your teeth before there was a knock on your door. You left the bathroom to answer it and sure enough, Matt was standing on the other side,

"I realized I didn't ask what you were feeling, so I grabbed the whole medicine bag", he held up a bag with a red cross on the front. You could always trust Matt with medicine, he always carried all sorts of things with him.

"It's ok, come on in", you stepped inside and he followed after you. You weren't actually gonna take anything, since you didn't know what you could and couldn't take due to your pregnancy.

"Hmmm", you heard Matt hesitate, before saying "Y/N, am I meant to see this?", you looked over at him and saw him poiting to the surprise on the bed. You have completely forgotten you placed it there before leaving to go to the pool.

"I was about to tell you about that, actually", you sat down on the bed and put your face in your hands.

"This is good, right? We're happy about this?", he questioned as he dragged one of the chairs in the room to sit in front of you.

"We were happy about this, until maybe fifteen minutes ago"

"What happened fifteen minutes ago?", he asked you, noticing the crestfallen look on your face.

"I went down to the pool area to surprise Noah, and I saw him taking pictures with those girls, and I don't know, I felt this monster grow inside of me and I just couldn't take it", you gave him the short version.

"Those girls were very pushy. What did you see?"

"I saw him very happy to be touching the body of a woman who is almost half naked beside him. His face wasn't exactly sad", you rolled your eyes, the images flashing back in your mind.

"Y/N, you only saw half of it, I swear that is not what happened", he told you and you gave him a look for him to keep going. "Ok, so we were sitting on the chairs by the pool, when these two girls approached us and asked for pictures. We said ok, because this happens all the time. They took pictures with everyone and Noah was the last one. He was standing next to her, both of his arms were placed in front of him, and he wasn't touching her at all", he really looked at you when saying this, and you nodded to show him you understood.

"But I guess she wasn't good with that, she grabbed his hand out of nowhere, and forcefully placed it on her waist. He was so shocked, he didn't know what to do. Her friend snapped the first picture and I guess she wasn't happy with that either, because she told him he needed to smile. So she told her friend to take another one. He didn't even share a word with her, because he honestly didn't know what to say or how to act in that situation"

You thought of every other fan interation you've seen him have. He was an introvert and sometimes didn't know how to react to things, specially when fans are involved. You suddently felt angry, not at him, but at the girl coming at him like that.

Was she even a fan? Or did she only want a picture to boast about meeting Noah? And the nerve she had, telling him to smile?

"He went up to his room after the interation, he was very overwhelmed", Matt finished his explanation.

"He must be feeling so bad", you thought out loud.

"He was just uncomfortable, you know how he is about his privacy and personal space", he observed.

"I know. I feel so bad for jumping to conclusions", you sighed out loud.

"Hey, don't feel sorry. You have a whole other thing going on here", he pointed to the pregnancy test.

"About that, I might need your help once again", you told him, a little nervous tilt on your voice.

"Sure, just tell me what to do"

So you told him to text Noah, telling him to come to room 305 - your room - and meet him there.

Matt left with a hug and a good luck, and you paced around the room, thinking about how these next minutes would play out.

A knock on the door came not too long after, you looked in the mirror, realizing you haven't changed out of Noah's shirt from earlier. But you hurried to answer the door anyways.

"Did you change your...", his voice trailed as soon as he saw you standing on the other side of the door. Jaw going slack and eyes widening in surprise.

"Surprise?", you said, opening your arms for him.

"Are you real?" he said in disbelief.

"Hug me and find out", it took him a few seconds for him to snap into action, crashing into your arms and hugging you tight.

"I can't believe you're here, oh my god", he said, hands roaming everywhere and touching every piece of you he could. You parted for a second and looked him in the eye.

"Yeah, I am", you giggled at little at his shocked expression.

"How did you do this?" he asked, taking your face in his hands. Neither one of you caring you were still standing on your door.

"I had a little help from Matt"

"Remind me to thank him later", he gave you a peck on the lips, both of you smiling into the kiss. "Get in that room, I have nothing to do for the rest of the day"

You stopped him from trying to walk you backward into the room.

"I actually have a surprise for you. I need you to close your eyes", you told him, a sheepish look taking over your face.

"Hmm, a surprise? I love that", he wiggled his eyebrows. You laughed and slapped him lightly in the chest.

"It's nothing like that, silly. Now close your eyes", he did as he was told, a smile still lingering on his face. You closed the door behind you and led him to stand in front of the bed.

You stood to his side, wanting to see his every reaction to this information, as you told him to open his eyes.

A million thoughts raced on his head, the first thing he saw was the onesie, "rad like dad" written on it, next was the pregnancy test and he has to lean a little closer to read "pregnant" written on the little display.

"You're pregnant?", he asked, looking at you. His mouth was agape and his eyes were even wider than before.

"Yeah"

"We're having a baby?"

"Yeah"

His hand flew to his mouth, attempting to cover his shocked expression, muttering "oh my god" to himself over and over again. You wouldn't lie, you were starting to freak out a little bit. A few seconds passed before something snapped in him. He gathered you up in his arms, your feet almost lifting from the floor.

"I'm going to be a dad? You're gonna make me a dad?" he asked, face buried in your hair.

"Yeah, you're gonna be a dad", you said, stroking his hair. His body shook a little and you could tell he was crying. You let him have his moment, so you just hugged him and stroked his hair softly. After a few minutes, he parted from you, with eyes glossy and cheeks wet with tears, but his smile was so big, it could light up a whole room.

"You make me the happiest man on this planet, I can't even believe this is real", he still held you close to his body. You suddently felt crazy for ever overthinking this.

"I'm not gonna lie, I was pretty nervous when I found out", you admitted, his smile fell a little at this.

"I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you. I can imagine finding out you're pregnant by yourself was pretty scary", his hand stroked your cheeks.

"It's ok, you're here now, that's all that matters"

"Take your shirt off", he told you, taking hold of the bottom of your - his - shirt.

"Noah, I don't know about this. I haven't been to a doctor's appointment yet" you said, unsure if you should be doing this.

"I don't mean it like that. Just take your shirt off, please?", you did like he wanted, as he kneeled in front of you.

He splayed both of his hands on your belly and started talking to your baby.

"Hi, sweet girl, this is your dada", he started, and you could die happily in this moment. "I'm so excited to meet you, but it's gonna take a while until we get to do that. Until then, you'll stay warm and healthy in your mommy's belly", he tapped your belly twice to get his point across. Tears welled in your eyes at the sight before you. You have everything you could have possibly wanted in the world.

"Daddy loves you so much already, you're going to be a spoiled little girl when you come to the other side. And you're gonna have the most amazing and beautiful mommy in the world", he looked up at you, to see tears streaming down your face. He got up to kiss them away. "How do you feel about getting married with a baby bump?", he asked you, and you sobbed even harder.

"It sounds really nice", you crashed on his arms, and he moved the both of you to lay on the bed, carefully placing the onesie and pregnancy test on the bed side table.

He cuddled you closer, hand stroking your belly nonstop, a habit he would develop during your pregancy, along with talking and singing to your bump. When you calmed down a little, he got up to turn off the lights and grab the remote, turning the TV on and getting back on the bed, pulling the cover over the both of you.

"Thank you for being the most amazing man on the planet. I honestly wouldn't know what to do without you", you told him, he thanked you with a kiss on the lips.

"The band is taking a break after this tour, and there is no questioning about it. I wanna be there for you through everything. I wanna help decorate her nursery and go to every doctor's appointment", he told with determination.

"You keeping calling the baby a girl", you giggled as you pointed it out.

"I just know it's a girl", he started to draw swirls with his finger over your belly.

"Well, she's gonna be the biggest daddy's girl", you laid your head down on his chest, his soothing movements making you sleepy.

"Damn right she is"

You were about to fall asleep when you felt his body tighten underneath you.

"Oh my god, baby, I had the weirdest fan interation today, I need to tell you about it", you could hear the frustration and annoyance in his voice. You laughed at it.

"Tell me all about it"

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