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papercorgiworld · 9 months

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Christmas saviours

Blaise, Draco, Enzo, Theo and Mattheo

A bit of an angsty beginning because of some Christmas loneliness, but you need not worry our most handsome Slytherins will save Christmas Eve with fluff and kisses.

Warning: only kisses and maybe some suggestiveness

Not proofread, feedback always welcome.

I planned on finishing another fic, but ended up writing Christmas fluff. I hope you enjoy it! I wish you all a wonderful Christmas and for those who don’t celebrate Christmas, I wish you a most wonderful day.

Christmas, you loved it! Every year you celebrated with your family and created some lovely memories. Although you knew this year would be different, you were confident that also this year you would manage to create wonderful memories.

You had only recently moved to the UK and this was your first year at Hogwarts. You were definitely the odd one out. Everyone in your year already knew each other for years and then there was you: new and permanently lost in the castle. You had made some friends, but also weren’t gonna win any popularity contests any time soon.

The news that your parents had to work this Christmas made your stomach turn and your heart physically hurt. However, you were already in the Christmas spirit so you were hopeful that you could still figure something out. You consoled your parents by telling them that it would be good to spend Christmas at Hogwarts to make friends.

And that was the plan. You invited everyone you had ever talked to at Hogwarts and also everyone from your year. And you learned a lot, like some people really need to learn how to say no in a polite way and most people go home for Christmas. Now Christmas eve was only a day away, two people had confirmed they were coming and there were two people left on your list who hadn’t responded. Possibly four people would show up, worst case scenario two.

Being hopeful and in full Christmas spirit you did your shopping, preparing everything for an unforgettable Christmas eve. On your way from Hogsmeade one of your invitees came running towards you. “Hey (y/n), so glad to catch.” You smiled brightly. “Here to help me with the groceries?” Your friend smiled. “Uhm, no, but I’ll help.” You’re pleased you can let go of some of the heavy bags. “I was actually looking for you, because I got great news, my parents made it back in time after all. So, me and my brother are leaving in half an hour. I'm really sorry we gotta miss out on your Christmas dinner.” Your smile fades, but you immediately force a fake one onto your lips.

Walking into the room of requirement you finally fall apart. You watch as Hogwarts conjures the most picturesque Christmas scene you’ve ever seen. Tears softly make their way down your cheeks, but you don’t sob, you try to ignore your misery. With shaky hands you put everything you bought in its designated spot. When you kneel down to set the four small Christmas gifts you bought under the tree you finally admit to yourself that you’ll be spending tomorrow evening alone, unwrapping your own gifts. After your moment of self pity you make your way down to your dorm.

The next morning you decide that there is still hope! Though the chances are slim, there’s still a chance one of the two who haven’t responded yet will show up or maybe both. You try and find them throughout the day, but fail. Around 5 you start dressing up. Around 6 you light the candles for your grand Christmas eve party.

Your heart twists and turns as it's hurting terribly, like it would rather stop beating than suffer another minute of agonizing loneliness. You stuff your face with delicious snacks. “What was I thinking? Like someone was gonna show up. I watched too many mushy Christmas movies. Christmas is overrated anyway! I’m turning into the grinch! Uh, I’m talking to myself! I’m going insane, might as well steal everyone’s Christmas next year.” You stop ranting and grab a plate, ready to start cleaning up and go to bed at 7.

Blaise

Suddenly the door opens and you stare in disbelief as Blaise Zabini walks in. “I was in the neighborhood, though I would stop by.” Like a deer caught in headlights you stand still. “Early? Aren’t I?” He looks around the empty room and continues. “If you want I can help you prepare.” You look down at your feet wondering what to say. “You look absolutely stunning, by the way.” “Thanks.” You put down the plate you were holding and manage to gather enough courage to be honest. “Everything is ready. And you’re not early. No one showed up.”

Blaise seems shocked by the news and makes his way around the table to you. “What? That’s horrible. All your effort.” His hands rest on your arms, giving you comfort. “I’ll live.” You say playing it down, but your glassy eyes betray you. “But why are you here? I expected everyone to be at their respective parties.” Blaise’s lips formed a line and you could see he was in deep thought for a second. “I am.” You looked confused at the Slytherin in front of you. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.” You frowned and smiled at the same time. Happy with the news but not quite sure what to think about it.

“So… what’s for dinner?” You wanna question everything he’s doing, but his excitement distracts you and you start telling him about all that you had prepared. You two have a lovely dinner together. Blaise is his most charming self as he wants nothing more than to make you forget that no one else showed up. To any outsider it would look as if you two had planned to spend Christmas together. But you kept wondering why he was here. You had to ask. “Why were you in the neighborhood?” A lot of stutters escaped a normally always easy talker, which made you question whether he was in the neighborhood at all. “There was no reason for you to be here, was there?” Realizing it was pointless to come up with excuses, he confessed. “I know I told you I wasn’t coming to your party but I have a little something and that’s why I stopped by.”

You found his choice of words odd. “A little something? Like a gift?” Blaise thought for a moment. “No, not really. Stand up for me will ya?” He got up and you did the same as he requested. He signaled you to come closer and when you still stood too far away he gently tugged your hand until your chest almost met his. He smiled a little goofy and only after a moment did you realize he was nervous. Blaise reached for something in the inner pocket of his jacket. You watch him carefully pull out a branch of mistletoe. He held in between the two of you. “I brought mistletoe.” You laughed as he stated the obvious. “Isn’t it supposed to be above the person you wish to kiss?” He nodded and reached for his wand.

Casting Levioso made the branch float above the both of you. Blaise reached for both your hands and you in return took a step closer. You were now pressed against one another. “Merry Christmas, (y/n).” He leaned in. “Merry Christmas, Blaise.” You whispered against his lips before kissing him.

Draco

The door slams open and you’re shocked to see Draco Malfoy of all people. Is he lost? He looks around smugly, one hand in his pocket and a smirk on his face. “Quiet the party, new girl.” Gesturing towards the empty room. “Trust me the atmosfeer was great until you came in.” You immediately snapped back. He simply huffed and walked towards the table examining all the different dishes. “So where are you guests?” He asked sincerely but without looking up from the food. “I guess everyone had other parties to attend. Understandable.” Your voice was so soft and defeated it made Draco look up at you worried that you might start crying any moment.

He wasn’t really good at situations like these so he quickly made his way over to the drinks. “May I?” He asked politely, gesturing to a bottle of champagne. You nodded. “But it’s probably too cheap for your taste.” Draco gave the bottle one look, shrugged, and opened it anyway. “I’ve already had expensive champagne and cheap company today. Got bored. So I decided to come here for cheap champagne and better people.” You take the glass he offers you. “I’m sorry, it’s a ‘cheap champagne and no people’ kinda party.” He takes a rather large swing from the glass and looks at you with a softness you’ve never seen before. “I’ll take you and your cheap champagne over my family’s horrible Christmas party anytime. So, will you have me as your guest?” You nod with glittering eyes. You quickly explain all the different options your table offers.

He tastes everything and overflows you with compliments. His table manners are exquisite and he even teaches you some little details of fancy dining. But most of all you spent your time laughing at all the ridiculous parties his family organizes. It helps him vent and your laugh makes him heal, like it’s all alright now that you agree it’s just as absurd as he thinks it is. After you’ve finished dining you turn to the tree and the gifts underneath. “If you still have time I’ve got four gifts under the tree. It’s just little trinkets, but to leave them unopened just feels horrible.” The Slytherin stares at you with wide eyes as you make your way to the tree to pick up one of the gifts. When you turn around with a gift in your hands he gets up from his seat in a hurry. “I can’t stay.” Is all he says as he picks up his scarf.

“Just one gift.” Your voice is almost a whisper and Draco closes his eyes for a moment. “It’s just, I have nothing for you. I come barging in, eating all the food and now gifts, while I have nothing to give-“ “You showed up! You saved my Christmas. You’re like my hero.” Draco feels like he’s going to burst with emotion at your words. He… a hero, it made him feel like a whole different person. “Truth is, (y/n) you saved me and not just my Christmas, all of me.” Only now you realize how close together you are with only the gift between you two. He looks so fragile and that’s probably why you suddenly felt the courage and need to go in for a soft kiss. He was shocked for a moment with eyes wide, but surrendered to your warmth and kissed back, his hand reaching for the back of your head to deepen the kiss.

“Will you now open a gift?” You ask again when you break the kiss. He smiles sheepishly. “Yes, anything for my princess.”

Enzo

“I’m here!” You stare at energetic Berkshire as he comes through the door announcing his presence. “Might have nicked something fancy that might just save your Christmas.” He holds a bottle of expensive firewhisky up. “What are you doing here?” You asked, confused by his presence and enthusiasm. His smile softens and he puts the bottle down on the table. “I had a suspicion that the new girl’s Christmas party wasn’t going to be a great success.” You felt horrible hearing him say the obvious. He walked around the table towards you.

“I’m here to keep you company.” You huff at his offer. “I don’t need your pity. I’m sure you have plenty of other places to be.” Enzo grabs your hand as you try to turn away from him in an attempt to hide your misery. “You need my pity, this is a pitiful party.” You try to force your hand out of his grip but he has a surprisingly tight hold of you and you end up closer to him. “And also, there’s nothing for me at the other parties, because the cute new girl isn’t there.”

You look in his gentle eyes wondering if he really means it. “You want to spend Christmas eve with me?” You ask, almost afraid of the answer. He nods and an adorable smile tugs at your lips as you no longer can contain your happiness. During dinner Enzo catches you up on all the latest gossip. But after a while you get worried if people gossip this much at Hogwarts then for sure they will talk about your lame party. It’s this concern that leads you to ask for a favor. “Uhm. Enzo, about my party… could you not tell anybody. Like I can just say that I canceled it. I mean.. I really don’t want people figuring out about my lame Christmas party.”

“Can’t.” You stare at him as he swallows a bite of his desert. “If your party didn’t happen then where was I. I can’t have people thinking I was alone.” “But telling people you were at the new girl’s lame party won’t do your reputation any good either.” Enzo shakes his head and gets up from his seat opposite of you to take a seat next to you. “Darling, this is not a lame party. It’s a lovely party. We’ve got amazing decorations, delicious food, firewhisky, gifts under the tree and each other. Are you not happy?” You turn to him, feeling a bit embarrassed that you were so caught up with what people would think rather than when you think. “Of course, I was being stupid. This is a lovely Christmas, thank you Enzo.”

His smile turns cheeky. “Yeah, I kind of saved your Christmas eve. Didn’t I?” You nod and give him a kiss on the cheek. “Yes, yes you definitely saved my evening.” Enzo licks his lips in a mischievous way. “A kiss on the cheek?! That's all a guy gets for saving Christmas?” You laugh at his dramatics. You fake a scoff and get up from your seat. “Enzo, have you no shame.” Suddenly he grabs you pulling you into his lap, a giggle escaping your lips. “No.” He states and wiggles his eyebrows. “Fine.” You kiss him softly and bite his lip softly while purposely pressing your chest against his, giving him more than he bargained for. The kiss deepens and his hand slips to your thighs resting there and gently squeezing. “I definitely know some guys who’re going to be jealous when they hear about this party.” “Shut up, Enzo.” You say playfully before kissing him again.

Theo

Theodore Nott? Unbelievable? To avoid any snarky comments you decide to diss yourself before he gets the chance. “Welcome to the most boring Christmas party ever.” Theodore simply snorts at your fake enthusiasm. “Pretty sure, I just came from the world’s most boring Christmas party.” You huff. “Wow, I suck even in organising lame parties.” Theo looks around. “Pretty sure this doesn’t qualify as a party.” You narrow your eyes, how does he manage to always have the last word.

“What are you doing here, Nott?” You ask as your frustration with Theo beats the sadness over your party. “If I remember correctly you said my Christmas enthusiasm was as overrated as my academic skills.” Theodore can’t help but roll his eyes. women and their need to remember every stupid thing he says. “Sounds like me, probably was me. But clearly I’m desperate… so, do you take in strays?” Your attitude disappears as you look at him, he was in his way sincerely asking if he could stay.

“Of course. You’re very welcome.” Your voice comes out with a little more doubt than planned, but Theo takes your welcome anyway. You both sit opposite of one another. “You must be really desperate if you came to my party?” You ask softly, no snarkiness in your tone. “You must be really desperate for a guest if you let me in, after all I’ve not been my kindest self around you.” You look at the food on your plate. “I’m really desperate, since obviously no one bothered to show up aside from you. But also I can see the humor in most of the insults you throw at me.” A warm smile appears on the slytherin’s face, feeling understood and a little less bad.

For the most part your evening is filled with humorous insults and snarky comments, but as time passes your rivalry ebbs away. The conversations get more serious and Theo almost exclusively has words of endearment for you. His softness envelopes you and your Christmas joy finds its way to Theodore. After lounging on the couch for a while you pull yourself back up. “Gifts? I’ve got four and they’re all for you.” He growls gutturally. “I don’t like gifts, plus I don’t have one for you.” You frown. “Who doesn’t like gifts? You absolute weirdo.” Theo laughs at your unfiltered opinion of him. He pushes himself to sit straight and watches you pick out the first gift. You don’t see how fragile he looks as he watches your gentleness.

When you go sit next to him and joyfully present him the gift he looks in your eyes. “Come on.” You urge like an impatient child. “Fine, but me first.” You frown and purse your lips. “You said you didn’t have anything.” Out of his pocket a fumbled piece of paper appears. “It’s not something I wanted to share, but it’s Christmas right, so why not.” He nonchalantly pushes it to you, waving the paper impatiently, like he wants to be rid of it. When you take it he looks away avoiding your confused gaze. You ignore his bizarre behavior and gently unfold the paper, revealing a sketch of you: you paying attention during class, probably transfigurations.

Theo’s still looking at anything but you. You shuffle closer to him and cup his cheek, turning his face to meet yours. “You drew this? I love it. Thank you.” “You’re a bit of a distraction during class. Probably why I’ve been picking on you.” A soft laugh rolls over your lips when you hear his confession. “And how do I distract you? As you can see all I do is pay attention like a good student.” You hold the sketch up to him as proof. “You do a lot more than that, (y/n). You get me thinking.” You can’t contain your smile. “I get you thinking? How awful of me.” He hisses at your mockery, but when he closes what little space there was between the two of you, your confidence fades. “You have me thinking about doing this” His lips catch yours, he kisses you with so much passion your whole body goes crazy for him in an instant. When he finally releases you, your head feels hazy. “What’s that all about?” Theo grins, enjoying the obvious effect he has on you. “This is my Christmas spirit, I’m feeling generous.” Is all he says before he pushes you to lay on the couch and continues to kiss you with unrelenting passion.

Mattheo

You hear noise at the door and turn to look at it slowly open. You hold your breath, still holding the plate as Mattheo Riddle walks in. Holding flowers in one hand and a gift bag in the other. He looks at you, but you just stare quietly and then he looks around the room. “Oh, I’m too late. I’m so sorry.”

Mattheo Riddle, Slyhterin bad boy, Slytherin trouble maker, son of the dark lord, most handsome guy in your year - maybe even all of Hogwarts - show up to your lame Christmas party with flowers and apologies. Weird. You had indeed invited him, when you announced that everyone was welcome during potions class but you were pretty sure he was among the people making fun of you.

You snapped out of your thoughts, someone was here, you were in no position to be picky about who it was. “No, you’re not late.” He looks confused at the empty seats. “Then where is everyone?” You look around feeling exposed, but look back up at his questioning face. You bite your lip, trying to think of a lame excuse but finding none. “Uhm, no one showed up, except for you.” You eventually manage to say, eyes getting glassy. Mattheo makes a soft ‘oh’ sound and you quickly try to get rid of the awkward situation.

“There’s plenty of food if you wanna stay. And also four gifts for you, since you know no one showed up.” Mattheo stays silent for a few seconds. “But you don’t have to stay, this probably isn’t your ideal Christmas eve.” The slytherin simply shrugs. “It’s not like I have anything better to do and the food looks divine.” You can’t help but chuckle as the awkwardness ebbs away. “Flowers for the hostess.” He offers you the lovely winter bouquet he had been holding. A blush creeps up to your cheeks as you take them and conjure a vase.

Dining together has you feeling like you’ve known Mattheo your whole life. You’re surprised by so many things he tells you, but most of all by how easy it is to talk to him. After the desert you make your way to the couch near the Christmas tree. With the table between the two of you gone things feel different and you both fall silent. “You were actually the last person I thought would show up and yet here we are. I hope you’ve enjoyed yourself so far. Because I definitely have.”

Mattheo stares at you fondly but doesn’t say anything. “Anyways let’s start with the gifts.” As you stand up to reach for one of the gifts Mattheo pulls you down. You now sit so close that your hips are touching and he’s still holding on to your wrist. “This whole evening has been wonderful. You’re wonderful, (y/n).” It sounds like a love confession and you hold your breath. “And at the risk of ruining this evening, I would like to kiss you. Is that okay with you?” Your heart melts, you can’t believe this and no one at Hogwarts will ever believe this. You nod softly, insecure about what you’re getting yourself into.

His hand holds your cheek and you lean in as his lips reach yours, light as a feather his lips brush yours. Ever so slowly Mattheo deepens the kiss, making you go crazy with desire for more. When you lay your hand on his leg for support he sees it as a signal that you are comfortable with him and snakes an arm behind you to pull you closer. Only when the kiss ends do you realize you’re laying in his arms. “When I said let's start with the gifts I didn’t know one of the gifts was wrapped up with a tie and good looks.” You joke as you undo his already loose tie. He smirks as he watches you all comfortable and confident in his arms.

His free hand reaches for your leg urging you come sit on his lap with your legs on either side of him. He pulls you in for another tender kiss. “I did actually bring a gift for you. So if you really want to unwrap-“ You cut him off by slamming your lips into his with passion and eagerness. He complies and pulls you closer into him until there’s no space left. “And here I thought you were all innocent and cute.” Mattheo says, clearly entertained by your enthusiasm. “I’m, I’m just being a good hostess by making sure my one and only guest is having a good time.” Mattheo’s face lights up with genuine happiness. “No doubt you’re a good hostess, pretty sure you would make a wonderful girlfriend as well.”

#slytherin #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #blaise zabini x reader #blaise zabini #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle imagine #blaise zabini imagine #draco malfoy imagine #theodore nott imagine #enzo berkshire imagine #mattheo riddle #papercorgiworldwritings

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hauntedrain · 9 months

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Midnight rain | Remus Lupin x Slytherin! Reader|

Prompt/inspo:” Midnight rain” by Taylor Swift. Maybe a bit of “you're losing me”.

A/N: Maybe I’ll make part 2? First official fic I’ve written so might not be the best. Not edited.

Warnings: Some cussing (very little), first person POV, once again not edited, so bad grammar and potentially bad spelling. A little bit of out of character Remus and a bit of angst?

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Why are you doing this? Com’n… did I do something?”

I could smell burnt wood and chocolate off of him, he wrapped his arms around me as I continued to do my homework. Homework that I desperately needed to finish.

“No, I just need to get this done Remus. Give me a minute.” I say, I get up and out of his arms, to walk over to my bookshelf looking for a book for transfigurations.

“Give it a break Y/N.” I looked at him for the first time tonight. His hair was a bit of a mess, he also looked tired, and you could see his eyes were a bit sleepy. He was in a sweater that Sirius gave him last year for Christmas and baggy jeans, something we could only wear on the weekends of hogwarts. “You’ve been studying 24/7, I haven’t talk to you in fucking days. And if we have talked all you do is reply with one word responses.”

“Remus. I’m trying to finish this. I’m just busy, I have things to do.” I say in a bit of a snappy voice. I just needed to get this homework done so I could get the rest of the weekend and following week off. But it was difficult chasing that outcome when you were constantly bombarded with requests from others.

“You’ve been busy ignoring me. Just stop for a few hours. Come sit with me, play chess with me, something!” He exclaimed, he looked hurt, his hands were in slight fists, not in a mad way but a desperate way.

“Like I said, I need to finish this. I’ll be done in a bit, just give me a minute. Just because you have everything done and set doesn’t mean I do! Just please Remmy. Give me a bit.”

He looked at me with desperate eyes but then slightly turned away to pick up the stuff he put on the desk. “Fine. I’ll see you… I’ll see you when you’re finally done.” He looked at me one last time and then went out the door without another word.

I put the book back on the shelf and walked over to my desk, I had a bit more pages to go and then I’ll be done. I’ll talk to him tomorrow if I end up finishing by tonight.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

“Did you finish the homework for transfigurations?” Severus asked me as we walked to breakfast.

“Yea, I got it done last night. Did you do the potions homework?” I asked as we walked into the great hall, we went directly to the Slytherin table where Regulus and his friends sat.

“No, it’s not due until Friday. Did you finish it?” Severus asked, he smiled at me and continued. “I don’t even think I have to ask, do I?” He started to put toast and eggs on his plate as he talked.

“Of course. It’s better to get it done than wait. Hi Regulus.” I replied to Severus before acknowledging Regulus.

“Hi miss overachiever. How’s your guy’s morning?” Regulus asked, he looked between Sevurus and I. I laughed slightly before replying,

“My morning is nice so far, do you guys have any plans today? I need to go to Hogsmeade later so I can pick up a new book and quill, would you guys like to join me?” I asked, I finished my toast and eggs so I started to get up. I was waiting for them to reply but then I felt a tap on my shoulder that followed with a greeting. Turning around I was faced with Remus. “Oh. Hi.” I saw smiling a bit. I gave him a kiss on the cheek before pulling back. “Do you need anything?”

“I wanted to talk to you, can you come to the hall with me? Just for a bit.” He said pulling my hand a bit so I could move with him out of the great hall.

“Uh, yea sure.” We walk out of the great hall into the side corridors, it’s pretty cold in them due to it being mid winter.. “What do you need to talk about?” I ask as we face each other.

“I wanted to know if you wanted to go to dinner with me tonight,” He asked “I’m sorry for getting mad last night, I know you want to finish those things but sometimes I miss you. So will you go to dinner with me?”

I smiled before replying, “of course. And you don’t need to be sorry, I know I work a lot but I need to finish and do things like that.” I say pulling him closer. I smile up at him before giving him an actual kiss this time. I could feel him smile into the kiss as he put his hand on my waist.

This isn't something we do a lot, especially in public, people have and are very reluctant on a Slytherin and Gryffindor dating. It was hard to get both of our friends to fully accept but overall now it’s fine. But we still take precautions which means little to no PDA In Public. “I’ll see you tonight then? I can get you at 6:35?.”

“Yes Mr. Lupin. 6:35 is fine.” I say before walking away back into the great hall so Regulus, Severus and I can go to hogsmeade.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

During dinner with Remus ~

“Well I mean I don’t know… maybe just go with the flow? Settle down?” Remus said he was in an old band tee that fit him oversized. We sat in a slightly dim ThreeBroomSticks while eating dinner.

“Settle down? Like…” I said kinda surprised, we talked about life in the future before, getting married and having kids. But I thought we would wait, not something right after hogwarts. I had plans and dreams to chase, I wanted to be known, and known in a good way and not in a bad way.

“Yea, settle down. Do you not want that? I thought you did.” He said he titled his head looking a bit sad and worried. He put down his fork and looked at me with his full attention.

“Yeah I did… but like right after hogwarts? Don’t you think that’s too soon? I want to travel and work, I just think we should wait.” I said slightly confused.

“Why wait? James and Lily are doing the same, and I bet they’ll still travel and work.” He wasn’t mad when he said this, but I could tell he was slightly offended. He pulled back his body so he would lean back onto the booth chair and crossed his arms. His face was slightly hurt but more so confused.

“But that’s James and Lily. They’ve said it over and over again that they don’t have anything big, they don’t have any big goals or dreams they want to complete. I want to and need to go after my goals, I don’t wanna settle down just like that, Remus. I want to make a name for myself.” I exclaimed. For me it was clear, I had goals and priorities, I wanted to work and do something meaningful for my life, I wanted to have a life that didn't revolve around a husband and kids. I didn’t wanna be a stay at home wife or a stay at home mom, I wanted something more, I wanted to chase that fame to make myself a name.

“It’s always about the fame for you isn’t it? Why do you need to be known far and wide? Those people won’t know you for who you are, I do. We talked about this, do you really not want this? Or that? Any of what we discussed?” He said, this time it was with anger however not loud, no one was really in here with us besides the servers and the bartenders so it wasn’t causing a scene.

“I want something for myself! Why is that so foreign? It’s not like I don’t want the stuff we discussed, I just assumed that we would wait a bit.”

“Y/N. Answer me honestly. If I were to ask you right now, if you wanted to marry me, would you say no?”

Once again I was surprised. I didn’t expect him to ask that. He looked at me with curious hurt eyes, it wasn’t something you see often from Remus. He was quiet and more closed off, so emotions vivid from his eyes weren't a very often thing to see. Nonetheless I didn’t know what to say, I knew what I wanted with my life but I didn’t want to throw his “proposal” away like nothing. Everytime I wanted to say something it didn’t sound right, or it didn’t come out. Eventually after opening my mouth slightly and then closing it once again Remus scoffed.

“Say something Y/N, choose something! Come on… really?” He said desperately. He looked at me as if I just killed him after I didn’t respond. He ran his hand through his hair before he got up and walked out, he didn’t look back once. He left.

I sat there confused on what to do. Does this mean we’re done and over? Did I just ruin everything? Did I lose the love of my life or was it not going to work? Was I crazy to want a name for myself?

I got up and paid, and I started to walk out the door. It was late, extremely late. I opened the door and it was raining. Midnight rain.

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stitchyblogs · 2 years

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Stitchy, How Do I Get Back into The Muppets?

Muppet memes are everywhere. They trend every time Brett Goldstein gets his hands on a microphone, or a British politician puts their foot in their mouth. Let the Muppets host the Oscars! Miss Piggy dumps Pete Davidson! Knives Out III! But, reader... it’s been a long time since you last hopped over to sip Lipton’s on Kermit’s lily pad, hasn’t it? And you kind of miss it.

I’m imagining you, dear reader. Not in a weird way or anything... I’m just being transparent about who I intend my audience to be, because I have Twitter poisoning. You know how it is, you rascal, you. I know, because I’m imagining you into existence! Let’s just go with it! Yeah, so- I bet you’re thirty something, low forties. You say ‘No worries!’ a lot, but you sure do have worries. How can you not? You’re way too online, but you hope to the Great Gazoo you’re pulling it off, looking merely casually plugged in, in public. You maybe don’t have kids, who've forced you to plumb the depths of Disney +, but you do have it, because you’re not immune to Baby Yoda and the bionic biceps of a one Bucky Barnes. Aside from that fatuous affair, you’re also in a ever evolving polycule with at least three streaming services, but they still aren’t *quite* delivering what you need from the relationship. You kind of miss being restricted to whatever 6 VHS tapes were in the TV hutch of your childhood home. If you’re too young for VHS, you at least remember having to mail actual disks back and forth with Netflix. You remember that once, practical effects were the only effects. You have taste! And curiosity! And heart! You tear up when you think about Mr. Rogers for too long, which is very sexy of you. Most importantly, dear reader, you appreciate a bit of cornball. You like a lil goof. A cheeky lil pun. A gag so cheap, the shopkeeper is looking the other way as you pocket it, secretly stoked to get it off the damn shelf already... Nobody’s looking, ya know. It’s okay to admit it! You like hokey jokes. In fact, you're spiritually wearing boxers with hearts on them right now, just in case. Not that I’m imagining you in your spiritual underwear.

Did I make it weird?

Shh, shh, it’s fine. I’m Stitchy, by the way! I am alllllll of these things too- it’s fine! Well, I’m not super into Bucky, if we’re being honest- which we are! Because we’re friends now! And you know, friends can ask each other embarrassing questions. Your question is the headline of this, so I won’t beat around the bush anymore. I’m gonna do you a solid. I’m gonna tell you.... How to get back into the Muppets.

Hey, wait! You sneak! You! That guy peeking over the shoulder of the reader I was just talking to. You’ve never seen any Muppets on purpose at all, and you’re hoping I can set you up, too? Ha! I knew it… Yeah, that’s okay. You can follow this list. I won’t rat you out, as long as you don’t tell Rizzo I said ‘rat’ in that context.

Muppet Immersion PART 1: The New Shit.

You’ve already seen the stuff that came down the pipeline in the 90’s. You Mnah Mnah’ed your butt off in your tender youth, and nowadays you still get a little confused when there’s only one Marley in non-Muppet Christmas Carols. You vaguely know that the good people at Henson Co. made post-Y2K projects, but you haven’t checked them out, because you had important, more grown up things to worry about, like curating your MySpace top eight. Then time got away from you. That’s okay, bud- because I’ve been on my muppetfrickin’ grind.

(One note: not all Muppet Materials are made with our age group in mind, and that’s okay! I’m sure Muppet Babies 2.0 has its moments, but we’re only looking at the slightly more mature pieces.)

1. The Muppets, 2011 (watch on Disney +)

They struck gold when tapping lifelong muppet freak Jason Segel to write and star in the Muppet’s comeback to the silver screen. With the expert musical-comedy midwifery of Flight of the Conchord’s James Bobin (director), and Bret McKenzie (music), a beautiful baby Muppet was born! It’s a classic tale of “We’ve gotta get the band back together and put on the best show this town has ever seen Or Else!”. The Or Else, if you’re wondering, is oil tycoon Chris Cooper’s plan to obliterate the Muppet Theater. Best work he’s ever done, I tell ya. Same goes for Amy Adams, who absolutely nails her role as the doting but levelheaded Mary, who’s fiancé is troublingly codependent with his Muppet brother, Walter. Oh, Walter. A wide eyed, whistling optimist, who deserves love and puppies and the whole entire world. In the words of Phil Spector (Yikes) to know know know him is to love love love him. A great entry point for returning, or newly budding Muppet enthusiasts. Highlights include the knock off ‘Moopets’, hostage Jack Black, and Muppet turned man Jim Parsons.

1.5 The sequel, Muppets Most Wanted, 2014 (also available on Disney +) doesn’t work for me. Seeing as it’s my guide to Muppet Immersion, I say you can skip it if you’re not feeling like another feature film, just now! My beef may not be your beef, though. (Too much Ricky Gervais, too much faux-Kermit, and not enough Walter... ((My soul will never be at rest until I understand why TPTB lost faith in Walter as the new audience surrogate. I can only hope Serial has plans to investigate.))) Maybe Muppets Most Wanted will work for you! Definitely DO NOT MISS the absolute feast of bops, again penned by Bret McKenzie:

1.5 a. “I’ll Give it To You”

1.5 b. The Interrogation Song, a thrilling double act by Ty Burrell and Sam the Eagle

1.5 c. We’re Doing a Sequel!

1.5 d. Something So Right featuring none other than powerhouse Celine Dion

1.5 e. Something So Right Demo Reel, because you need to have Bret’s Miss Piggy in your ears, too.

Whenever Piggy wears a hat with one lil’ ear out!? That’s the good stuff.

2. It’s time to play the music, it’s time to light the lights, it’s time to fire up the Baby Yoda machine to watch The Muppets, 2015. Confusing, yeah... It’s the same-named, but sadly short lived series, spun out from the success of the new films. The docu-sitcom format is a natural fit for the fourth-wall breaking Muppets. For the first time since 1984’s Muppets Take Manhattan, Kermit is solidly the leading man. We find him back in the studio, producing Up Late With Miss Piggy, amidst a flurry of Muppet interpersonal problems. As a quintessential Will They, Won’t They couple of the last half a century- it’s kind of incredible that the Muppet media that best portrays why Kermit and Piggy love each other is the one where they are very emphatically Did, But Don’t Anymore. It’s a refreshingly grown-up main story line! Aside from that- we all know C is for Cookie, but B is for B-Plots and running gags that absolutely slap. Fozzie’s beleaguered love life, Uncle Deadly’s wrangling of Piggy’s vast wardrobe, Scooter’s ongoing beef with his mother’s boyfriend, the meddling network president June Diane Raphael... I truly can’t get enough! Because they canceled it! Hmmph! And a pink satin heeled kick, and a hiiiii-ya!!

Anyway, the cameos and needle drops are expertly deployed, as fitting and offbeat as ever. I’m especially fond of Christina Applegate, Ed Helms, and Josh Groban’s appearances.

My absolute favorite episode, if you watch only one, is “Swine Song”. The network saddles Up Late With Miss Piggy with a brand manager who’s dead set on giving the show a face lift. Key and Peele, now reduced to running an Etsy shop after their own fiasco with the brand manager, feature.

I don’t know what happened, that we didn’t get more of The Muppets. Perhaps the 30 Rock-ification of the Muppets might have been more at home on a different network, with a different pool of veteran talents and sensibilities? Were we as a society just not ready in 2015 for a story about workplace friends, grounded by such sincerity? Eh, maybe. It’s no surprise Ted Lasso’s Bret Goldstein is one of the most vocal proponents for a Muppet comeback, with that in mind. Same niche!

If there is any justice in this universe… [clenches fist]

3. The Muppets Haunted Mansion, 2021, on Disney + is a welcome return to form after the platform’s first “exclusive” but paltry offering of Muppets Now (Don’t even... Don’t even bother to look…). Gonzo and Pepe challenge themselves to face their fears and spend the night in the spookiest place on earth, inspired by the beloved Disneyland ride. It’s great. If you’ve taken my advice this far and you’re still in, just. Just go for it. It’s 52 minutes. What else you got goin’ on? You’re elbow deep in some internet weirdo’s ramblings about a fifty year old troupe of talking socks.

Can’t get enough? Need to soak in hours more of puppety perfection?

4. The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance, 2019, Netflix. Not technically the Muppets TM, but absolutely a must see for a burgeoning Henson buff. Did you ever see the original 1982 film? Do! It’s rentable. The Dark Crystal is some high fantasy, live action, no humans, all puppet madness. It’s disturbing and strange and beautiful. An age old tale of corruption and ideals, told by some of the cutest, oddest little creatures you’ll ever see. (Deet and Hup!!!) And I mean. C’mon. The vocal talent! They didn’t even fit Bill Hader on the wiki cheat sheet, that’s how stacked it is!

5. Fraggle Rock: Back to the Rock, 2022, Apple TV. This one’s definitely made for the kids, but it’s exactly as lovingly rebooted as you hoped.

We’re getting down to some slim, definitely non mandatory pickings, now. Uhhhh…

6. Miss Piggy made an appearance on Drag Race!

7. The creature workshop whipped up some puppets for Coldplay’s Biutyful music video!

8. And here’s a half hour supercut of a bunch of ads featuring the Muppets, in the last fifteen years or so. It’s not entertainment, per se, but at the very least, you’ll see the Kermit Sipping Tea origin.

PART 2: Outside Readings

The road to your Masters in Muppetfrickery has been paved by many scholars. Here are a few peers whose work you might like to check out, now that you’re no longer a tadpole, but a fully grown frog, with hard cover books and podcast subscriptions, and junk!

Jim Henson: The Biography, by Brian Jay Jones

This book is exactly the comprehensive, compassionate deep dive you hope it is. Watch out, though! It did make me cry in an airport.

I Am Big Bird: The Caroll Spinney Story, 2015.

A feel good documentary about the man under the bird. Available on Prime, Peacock, and others.

Muppet Guys Talking, 2017

Five of the original Muppet performers discuss their iconic characters. Muppetguystalking.com

Street Gang: How We Got to Sesame Street, 2021.

You guessed it! A doc about Sesame Street, on HBO.

Defunctland has also done some stellar coverage of the Muppets, Fraggle Rock, and more!

Follow ToughPigs.com for a survey of what's up and coming in the various Henson adjacent worlds, and top tier curation of Muppet history. They have a podcast, too!

If you are lucky enough to live in NYC or DC, you can even see some Muppets in person!

Museum of Moving Image

The Smithsonian

PART 3: The Oldies!

Whatever Muppet movies you had access to as a kid- there’s a good chance there’s one you missed! Good news is there’s still time to play catch up- whew!

Stitchy’s TOP TEN of the pre 2000 canon:

1. THE MUPPET MOVIE 1979 (Disney +)

2. MUPPET TREASURE ISLAND 1996 (Disney +)

3. THE MUPPET CHRISTMAS CAROL 1992 (Disney +)

4. THE DARK CRYSTAL 1982 (Rent Only?)

5. LABYRINTH 1986 (Netflix)

6. THE GREAT MUPPET CAPER 1981 (Disney +)

7. MUPPETS FROM SPACE 1999 (Rent Only?)

8. THE MUPPETS TAKE MANHATTAN 1984 (Prime)

9. THE MUPPET SHOW 1976-1981*** (Disney +)

10. EMMET OTTER’S JUGBAND CHRISTMAS 1977 (Prime, Peacock)

If you’ve missed any of the top 5, BOY HOWDY are you in for a treat. Especially if you’ve never seen the original Muppet movie. I am on my hands and Always Conveniently Off Screen Knees, begging you to give it a shot. If it’s been decades- give it a watch with fresh eyes. It’s a sweet, simple, silly story about a frog who dreams of making people happy. It’s about art, and integrity, and joy, and friendship, and it’s just about the only place you’re gonna get Hare Krishna jokes, nowadays.

Of course, this list is just a start. There were quite a few obscure TV specials and series besides, but as they are very hard to track down on streaming, I won’t insist on their viewing. I do highly recommend the series Jim Henson’s The Storyteller, 1987-1989, however. These episodes are all self contained if you can dig one up on Google, and they are exquisite pieces of art. John Hurt stars as the gruff old Storyteller, weaving fantastical yet tactile folk tales that have stuck with me for decades.

***Sheesh! The Muppet Show is like, 44 hours of television. I can do better than just point you at it in its totality! That brings us to:

PART 4: Going Right to the Source.

It’s the OG. THE Muppet Show.

By all means, crack open that laptop and follow your nose! There are legends aplenty to pick from, and just about every one of the 120 episodes has a classic moment, somewhere in there. As you scroll through the many guests, I’m sure you’ll be drawn to such greats as Rita Moreno (This appearance is The E in her EGOT!), John Cleese, Julie Andrews, Bernadette Peters, Steve Martin, Elton John, Madeline Khan, Gilda Radner, the cast of Star Wars, and Carol Burnette. They all put on fantastic shows that are essential viewing, but I must also put in a good word for some personal favorites.

Paul Williams, one of the great American songwriters, author of The Rainbow Connection and many other classics

Vincent Price, your favorite creepy uncle, and mine. (That’s right! We’re not just friends, we’re also cousins!)

Avery Schreiber, who never ever holds back, and whose episode features the fantastic Electric Mayhem rendition of “Tenderly”.

Sandy Duncan, who’s “Nice Girl Like Me” is an unforgettable, leggy revamp of the Manilow classic.

Mummenschanz, who are impossible to describe, but who would have ruled Tik Tok.

Leo Sayer, serving up three of my favorite 70’s tunes.

Pearl Bailey, bringing down the house with a pastiche sure to delight any musical theater nerd.

Harry Belafonte. “Turn the World Around” never fails to bring a tear to my googly eye.

Linda Ronstadt, lacerating the ONLY live vocals in the history of the show, and also crushing so so hard on Kermie. Relatable af

PART 4: Looking Forward

(video)

And you may ask yourself, "What Muppet Am I?" And you may ask yourself, "Why are there so many songs about Rainbows?"

What should come next for the Muppets? I say, if Disney is gonna own everything and everypiggy, go whole hog! Make Kermit the Avenger’s new therapist. Maybe he’s outside their insurance network (and dimension) but they have great rapport! Give Piggy a real late night slot, and get Grogu on to host a remote segment! Keep making the kids their kid shows, but embrace the grown up Gen X and Millennial audience with their own fare. Get back to the Muppets Sex and Violence roots, I double dog dare ya! Make a Muppet dating sim! Reboot Statler and Waldorf: From the Balcony on Youtube! Hook up Lil Nas X with the Electric Mayhem! Stop dicking me around and get the Muppets to host the Oscars, for real! Bring back my best boy Walter, and take advantage of the Muppets’ unparalleled skill for literary adaptation. A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Muppet is a story that demands to be told!

Well, we do know one new series on the way in 2023- The Muppets Mayhem. A junior record exec must wrangle the unwrangle-able Electric Mayhem through the modern music industry as they record an album. I don’t know about you, but I’m crossing my furry little fingers.

#the muppets #muppet immersion #kermit the frog

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damagedintellect · 2 years

Text

Trafalgar Law x reader

💌 Fake it till you make it: Chapter 4 💌

Summary: To avoid an arranged marriage set up by Doflamingo, Law needs to bring home a girlfriend during the Christmas break and you just so happen to be a theatre major in the same dorm at One Piece University. What could possibly go wrong?

Tropes: College AU, Fake Dating, Idiots in love, [Later chapters have🍋]

💌 Word count: 4,120 💌 <= Previous Chapter | Next Chapter =>

The next few days were rather weird but not because of your interactions with Law. The preparations for the Gala seemed to steal you away from him as the girl's decided to have a spa day to which you were given no choice in the matter. They even forced you to get your nails done. Something simple but elegant to match the ensemble Doffy prepared. They tried to stay away from Law as a topic as much as possible especially after the bedroom incident. They did give you a few childhood stories, mostly of him being a menace. Apparently the little shit used to catch and dissect frogs all the time and much to everyone's dismay he had a jar of little frog hearts. No one bothered to ask why he collected the tiny hearts; they just assumed it was psychopath behavior. Oddly enough they were half expecting their brother to be a serial killer. Law has an interesting family.

When you finally saw Law he too was exhausted with being physically nitpicked to have any real creative banter about the frog thing. He was used to the prospect of having a family that was often in the public eye but this is why he typically skips out on these events. Too much fuss in advance for maybe an hour or two of networking in a field profession he didn't choose. Not to mention Doflamingo breathing down his neck or monitoring his every move from a far. The surgeon was used to endurance stamina days but it didn't mean he wasn't going to complain about it. You both pretty much passed out after recounting your days to each other.

The next day Law woke you up a little earlier than you would have liked. He said something about if the two of you left before everyone was awake you could avoid a repeat of the day prior. You didn't question it, just got dressed and went out. Stopping at a Café for breakfast you noticed a flyer for a one day carnival. It was on the other side of town but you shrugged, you guys had nothing better to do anyway. The walk was nice and quiet. It wasn't uncomfortable but that was probably because you were still half asleep. You closed your eyes leaning on Law. He didn't say anything nor did he try to disturb you. He just kept walking like this was a common occurrence between you two.

You snapped awake when Law’s phone rang. Luckily there was a bench looking out over the now frozen lake. Law frowned but answered the phone. It was Corazon wondering where you guys were. He didn't say much past that as you both sat on the bench. Law wanted to enjoy the peace while he could.

Looking out at the lake there were groups of kids and teens who were playing on the ice. You watched as they all skated, having a good time. Ice skating would have been a fun thing to do. You sigh "Too bad we don't have skates, I haven’t done it in years." Law only nods before pulling out his phone again pointing to a small building across the lake. "That's a rental place if you really want to. It's not a bad way to kill time." He got up and stretched "I think I was around thirteen? The last time I skated here." Your eyes lit up as you walked over to the rental place. You couldn’t help the skip in your step as you approached the building. Law paid for the skates and you put your stuff in one of the provided lockers as you hastily put the skates on and made your way to the ice.

You always liked skating. It felt like you were flying as you glided across the ice. By the time Law caught up to you, you were skating circles around him, the mussel memory kicking in. You never learned how to do any tricks but you wish you did. A few feet away from where you were you could hear the kids cheering loudly. It seems like they were racing with the older teens. Law seemed to pick up what you were going to ask. “Let me guess you want to race.” you nodded skating up to his side as he smirked at you "You're going to lose you know."

"Wow, that confident?"

He gestured to himself "There are very few advantages of being tall but in this instance it gives me a big advantage. Did you know height is negatively correlated with longevity?”

You laughed at him “Oof, that's rough but not as rough as you losing this race." You took your stance waiting on Law. "Oh, then how about a bet? If I win you have to," he thought for a moment then frowned. He wanted to say a lot of things but he's not that bold and he'd run the risk of being found out but knowing you, not a lot of things would make you uncomfortable or embarrassed. In the end He's not that clever and he'd rather be safe than sorry. "Buy lunch."

You couldn’t help but laugh "Really? That's the best you could come up with?"

"No, but you're too much of a wild card it makes it harder to think of something you wouldn't just do on your own accord." He shrugged. You guess that's true. You were already acting as his girlfriend and while you know he does have a sadistic streak it would probably be more effort than it was worth. Again one of the many perks about being in theater is your carefree chaotic neutral energy. "Well then If I win you have to give me back Lil Law."

"Deal." Law smirked knowingly.

To no one's surprise Law won the race but you did give him a run for his money. Lil Law will have to stay imprisoned for the time being but you swore that you'd bring him home even if it was the last thing you do. Law was not impressed by your speech. He only rolled his eyes skating beside you. When he wasn't looking you took some pictures to send to Corazon and the guys back home. Surprisingly Law's usual frown was gone as he glided on the ice. Although once he noticed you taking pictures it plastered itself right back on his face. You picked up something fast and easy for lunch since there was going to be a lot of street food at the festival. Law teased you saying that the real reason was because you didn't have enough money to pay for a proper lunch. The sad fact of the matter was he wasn't exactly wrong. Buying everyone presents wasn't something you accounted for in your budget but that was okay you'd just have Law pay you back ten fold. You snickered as you started making your way over to the festival.

On the way you noticed that you were once again holding hands. You're not sure who initiated it either; it just felt right especially with the large crowds surrounding the two of you. At the entrance there was an ice sculpting contest not to mention there were plenty of carnival games, food stalls and live entertainment at the heart of it all. It was still light out but you could also see people setting up winter illuminations. You'd definitely have to circle back around to see the finished displays, maybe even get a few pictures. If Law would let you. You were walking around like a kid in a candy store bouncing from booth to booth trying to figure out what you wanted to do first when it occurred to you that your hand was empty. How long had it been empty for?

You lost Law. Sure you had your phone on you and he was only a phone call away but Law would have already done that by now if he noticed your absence. Which means that it's likely he hasn't noticed your disappearance. You tried to retrace your steps but you have no idea when you lost him and since you were on the shorter side you couldn't always see past the crowd. You weren’t worried per se you were both adults you were more interested in what could have captured the surgeon's attention. That's when you saw a familiar hat in the distance. Bingo. Making your way through the crowd you noticed he had quite the audience. You wondered what kind of a stall it was as you pushed your way to the front of the crowd.

Law was very gingerly yet very swiftly working on several extremely intricate katanuki's. It was similar to dalgona but flakier and more fragile. It seems he started amassing a crowd because he completed such a large amount in a short amount of time impressing a lot of the old timers who were passing by. You snapped a photo to send to Corazon. Even the booth owner was shocked with Law's tedious work and progress. You giggled to yourself knowing this was probably the most relaxed he's been since arriving to Dressrosa. This was the closest he could probably get to the surgery simulators back on campus. You know Law had an ungodly amount of hours logged into them. This probably scratched that same itch. You marveled at his work as you sat next to him. He was too enthralled with the candy in front of him to pay you any mind. You smiled at him as he finished his last one. He looked proud as the booth owner handed him a set of matching keychains. You could get used to seeing that smile.

"Looks like someone's having fun." You giggled as he rolled his eyes. He wasn’t denying it. “Here take this.” He handed you one of the keychains and you quirked an eyebrow "What it’s not like I need two of them. I only wanted the one." You hummed “Fair enough.” As you left the stall looking for the next game to play you attached it to your phone. You were surprised that after completing several candy cut outs he only got two keychains but it’s not like you were paying attention to what the other prizes were.

As you were walking around you picked up some snacks checking out more of the game booths. You scanned the area for any game that you knew for a fact you could win. You had always been pretty good at the milk jugs, knocking them down was easy. Although there wasn’t really a prize that you wanted so you ended up handing it off to some kid who was passing by. Originally you tried to give it to Law but he glared at you shaking his head but that only made you laugh “I will win you something by the end of the night and you’re going to like it or so help me I’ll-” You were cut off as some kids ran past you pushing you away from Law’s side. You were about to trip when Law pulled you back upright with a little too much force and you ended up falling into him instead “Are you okay?” Law looked you over with genuine concern.

That caught you off guard. You were still a little flustered but you managed to stutter out a “Y-yeah I’m fine.” He was still holding on to your shoulder when some people in happi coats approached you about their booth.

“We have the perfect event for both of you if you would like to try our love trial!” The group was ushering you around their stall before you could say anything about refusing “Test the strength of your relationship! Just follow the course and clear the designated challenges, if you manage to succeed you can win a prize of your choice. However, fail a trial and you get eliminated!” They motioned to the wall of potential prizes “The only rule is that you can’t let go of your partner's hands for any reason!” A little cheesy but it sounded like fun even though you know Law would never want to partake in something like this. You turned to look at the surgeon but were shocked to see him deep in thought. Upon following his line of sight you get deja vu as you see a signed limited edition copy of “Sora Warrior of the Sea” you tried not to laugh as he turned to you with a gravely serious expression. You did promise Law that you would win him something by the end of the night.

He chuckled as he cracked his knuckles “(Y/N)-ya, you better not slow me down." He smirked at you as you scoffed "As if, I'm already way ahead of you." You grabbed his hand again, turning back to one of the coordinators "Where do we start!" You were handed a time card to keep track of your progress by getting stamps at each checkpoint as well as a strip of paper that had the first clue. You had 10 minutes to decipher the riddle,

"At the end of the year, I still want you around, by eating the dish the answer is found."

The answer would lead you to the location as well as hint to your first challenge. Unsurprisingly it took less than a minute for Law to figure it out. "The word soba can translate to around, near or beside. It's also a tradition to eat Soba for the new year." He looked at one of the hosts for confirmation and he was given a thumbs up. "Ah so we're probably feeding each other soba." You pulled Law in the direction you vaguely recalled seeing a soba stall. "I think I saw a soba stall this way when I lost you earlier." He nodded, rushing you to meet his pace. You tried to stifle your laughter. As much as Law is a brooding know it all deep down he's still a huge dork. You made great time and just as predicted your challenge was to finish an extra large portion of toshikoshi soba. The only caveat was like a lovey dovey couple you had to feed each other. Unfortunately you were using your dominant hand to hold Law’s but it turns out that didn’t matter much because Law was ambidextrous. You helped him pull apart the chopsticks.

"How fast can you eat soba?" Law asked as you laughed at his question "Oh trust me any broke college student can inhale noodles." The bowl was brought out and you were glad you ate a relatively light lunch. The hot soba looked delicious but it was hard to gauge just how hot it would be since it was cold outside. The steam that billowed off the bowl was misleading. You nodded for the games facilitator to start the clock. You mentally prepared yourself for how hot you thought the fresh noodles would be but we're taken aback when Law actually blew on the noodles before giving it to you. You took a moment to stare at him but he just looked confused at why you were shocked.

"Oi (Y/N)-ya, we're being timed you know."

You snapped out of your haze "You're the one being distracting." You slurped down the noodles as fast as possible as Law peered at you with a knowing smirk. "Why because I blew on the noodles? They're hot. I'm sure you would have done the same." You continued eating what Law fed you. You probably would blow on it had this gone the other way around but it's funnier to say otherwise. "Oh I wouldn't even have thought about it. I would have just shoveled it straight into your mouth no questions asked and then say how bad do you want that book." You almost choked on the noodles while laughing at your own remark. Law grimaced even though he could tell it was mostly a joke "How cruel." You both focused on finishing the task as fast as possible and to no surprise you completed the first challenge. The next riddle was,

"Love remains in the heart of the cards, a fast paced game in which you try to discard."

You didn't know whether to laugh or be disappointed "They really did just rhyme card with card. I guess we're playing speed?" Law shrugged but agreed they could have tried better with the clue but you guess part of the challenges were to be misleading enough to get people eliminated. It wasn’t that hard to find the stall. The only other station that had a card theme was a fortune teller booth. With your combined brain power you felt sorry for the poor sucker you were playing against. Everyone at the booth cheered for your match because of how intense it was. Speed was a game you used to play with your mom all the time. Law pretty much held the cards for you for most of it because you moved so fast. "Impressive, I take it you played this a lot as a kid?"

You smiled at the bittersweet memory "It was one of the few things my mom could do when she was admitted to the hospital." Law hummed not wanting to pry any more than he already had. It was only natural to think of your family since you had been around Law’s this whole week but it didn’t make it any easier. Luckily the instructor gave you the next riddle to break you out of your thoughts.

"The ball's in your court on a smaller scale, keep working together and you will prevail."

“I hurt the most when lost, yet also when not had at all. I’m sometimes the hardest to express, but the easiest to ignore. I can be given to many, or just one. What am I?”

Law scoffed at this one "Table tennis? What kind of trials are these." You laughed, he had a good point. Other than the first challenge these didn't really have anything to do with love but hey you weren't complaining. You were having fun and it was easy. It assured you that you would win Law his damn comic. As you were trying to locate the next booth, Law squeezed your hand to signal he found it. You were so comfortable you almost forgot you were still holding hands. When you settled into the challenge it didn't last very long. It turns out you're actually cracked at ping pong. You didn't mean for it to happen but on the first return you won the game because you couldn't control your own strength. Everyone was left dumbfounded while you stared at your hand. It really shouldn't have been that easy.

"Love is bold so you must be brave, go back to the start for time you'll save. A few more riddles to solve then done, anymore said and it'll ruin the fun"

The last clue was cryptic but you guys got the gist. On your way back you thought about how weird the hint was. The word bold was ironically bolded. You don’t know if this was a printer mistake or on purpose. As you and Law approached the original booth again people applauded you both for making it this far. Law didn’t seem amused as he took the card with the final riddles rolling his eyes as he showed it to you.

You tried not to laugh as the grimace made its way back to Law’s face. "I resend my earlier statement about the trials. I preferred when they had nothing to do with love." On the table there was an array of stamps and stickers, some with words and others with symbols to put on the card. Probably to make it easier to narrow down the answers or to throw people off who knows. You found a stamp that said "Love" and put that as the answer. "Aw come on sure it's a little cheesy but I think it’s kinda cute." You smiled as Law started on the next one.

“I am not a cruise sailing on the sea, but a beautiful thing where you want to be. What am I?”

He scoffed "Still cheesy does not mean good. Look for one that says relationship will ya." You helped Law shuffle through the box to find a sticker to put on the card. You only had two more to go and you were making great time.

“I can break, I can be clogged, I can be attacked, I can be given, I can be kept, I can be crushed, yet I can be whole all at the same time. What am I?”

You rummage through the box again "Easy, this one is heart." Law helped you uncapped the stamp. There was only one riddle left and then that book was his.

“Useless for one, but absolute bliss to two. The small boy gets it for free, the young man has to seek permission for it. The old man has to buy it. It’s a baby’s right and a lover’s privilege. What am I?”

You snickered "I know this is not the answer but boobs would also fit here." Law sighed in disappointment "Are you proud of yourself?" You smiled replying immediately "Immensely" Law shuffled through the box "You really shouldn't be." He pulled out a sticker that said "kiss" and you realized just how stupid you were. Although something didn't add up to you. Why was the word "one" bolded? Actually, come to think of it, there were other letters bolded across the whole form. Law flagged down one of the attendees to check your answers. They nodded at the form yet when they looked back at you they only said "Looking good, you almost have it." Law was confused; he was sure you guys had answered them all correctly. Maybe you accidentally put the wrong sticker somewhere else?

It started to piece together in your head as you noted down the bolded letters mentally "d, o, t, h, e, l, a, s, t, o, n, e?" Suddenly it clicked for you "do the last one." Your eyes snapped to Law who was still trying to figure out what was wrong. You didn't even hesitate using your free hand to turn his face towards you. He could barely get out the "(Y/N)-ya?" Before you cut him off.

Around you some of the event organizers popped some confetti poppers shouting "Congratulations, you passed!" A mixture of cheers and applause filled your ears as you pulled away. "What a power couple! You guys have the fastest time by far!" Bewildered Law stared at you mystified at what just happened. You gave him a cheeky grin as you pointed out your ingenious discovery "The bolded letters spell out "Do the last one." It wasn’t just a printer mistake." He stared back in awe as a soft smile graced his lips.

Law’s thoughts were muddled the rest of the night. His mind garbled with the obscure circumstances. He remembered being handed the book and taking pictures with you for the event organizers social media page. Although outside of that he wasn’t too sure how he was laying in his bed with you already fast asleep. Law shifted to look at you, the day had been exceptionally favorable for his previous stated testing. Who would have thought that throughout the entirety of the love trials Law could feel himself falling but it didn’t scare him. It didn't feel forced or overwhelming either; it felt so natural with you by his side. Without question you come across as a power couple. Normally he felt pressed to make these long convoluted plans that he controlled every variable to, but in this case he didn't feel the need.

Law chuckled to himself, you really were good at your job. He feels like a fool having developed these feelings towards you and while he had self control he most certainly didn't need it anymore. There were only so many days left before things returned to some sort of normalcy. He might as well take advantage of the time he has. Even if his brain wants to think rationally about the pitfalls and what if's, he feels content having rubbed it in Doflamingo's face. At the end of the day he achieved his main goal. If he were to face rejection it would benefit him to get it out of the way as soon as possible but that was a predicament for another time. For now he closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him.

___

Chapter Navigation: [1] [2] [3] [You are here] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

#trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #One Piece x reader #onepiece x reader #more chapters on ao3

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thetarttfuldickhead · 9 months

Text

A Jamie-centric pre-OT3 Christmas story told in 25 short chapters.

Masterpost / AO3

24.

Due to lucky timing or – more likely – a long-honed sense for when Jamie and Georgie were ready to be interrupted, Simon stepped into the sitting room to announced that dinner was ready about half a minute after the hour-long, and occasionally weepy, talk was winding down to general cuddles.

Jamie got up to greet him with genuine enthusiasm. He’d already moved out by the time Simon moved in, but he liked the man well enough. He’d been dead good for Mummy, and Simon had always been decent about giving her and Jamie space, never seeming to mind that Georgie tended to focus all of her attention on Jamie whenever he was around. Which was only natural, given that Jamie was her only son and a fucking great one at that, but some men might have been pissy about it, so Jamie was still glad Simon wasn’t one of those.

“Tried to make a few extra sides that won’t mess with your meal plan, I know you’ve got a game tomorrow,” Simon said as he ushered them towards the carefully set table.

They’d gotten a new cloth since the last time Jamie was here for Christmas, a rustic looking light grey number, but the pink plates with a pattern of golden Christmas trees around the edge were the same ones Jamie had given her when he was 17. Simon had matched them with green napkins, intricately folded around small golden sprigs of plastic mistletoe, and pink and gold ornaments scattered across the table.

“That’s nice, that,” Jamie said, because it was, and Simon beamed at him.

The dinner was nice, too, the traditional turkey and trimmings complemented, for Jamie’s benefit, with a French omelette with smoked haddock, a large salad, and a small bowl of liberally spiced brown rice. It took Mummy most of the meal to fill Jamie in on all the latest neighbourhood gossip, but there was a fair bit of chatter about football as well, and a couple of minutes devoted to Simon’s new knife set. It was fun, and easy, and by the time Simon got up to put the kettle on and Jamie went out into the hall to collect the bag of gifts he’d brought, Jamie was feeling more relaxed (and fuller) than he could remember doing in… well. A fucking long time.

As they settled on the couch with their tea cups, small glasses of mulled cherry wine and a frankly shocking array of sweets (of which Jamie allowed himself exactly one small slice of candied orange dipped in chocolate and sprinkled with sea salt), Mummy fretted slightly over not having any proper gifts for him there. “We had them sent over your place, since we didn’t think you were coming. I’m sorry, love.”

“No, yeah, I know, got them last night. Haven’t opened them yet, though, ‘cause, uh, I wanted to see you first.”

She smiled, and pulled him close to smack her lips against the top of his hair. “Do it first thing when you get home, and every last one of them will be a kiss from me.”

“I will, Mummy.” He’d be getting home after midnight, and by rights should head straight for bed to make sure he was in good shape for tomorrow’s game, but knew he would take the time to unpack the carefully wrapped parcels. Knew his mum would likely be up and ready to respond to any excited reaction texts he might send.

Jamie apologised for the randomness of the gifts, sheepishly admitting that he’d spent too much time getting Roy stuff to think much about anyone else; they waved away his regrets and oooh:ed and aaah:ed enthusiastically at the blanket (Georgie), the cookbook (Simon), the weekend getaway in Cornwall (both of them), and the other things Jamie had picked up rather hurriedly yesterday.

Merry Christmas (I don’t want to fight tonight) came on. Grinning cheekily, Mummy got to her feet, pulling Jamie up with her as she went, and then they were dancing all across the sitting room, laughing and loudly singing along, the way they’d always done when Jamie was a kid.

“Oh, baby, you’ve gotten dead good at this,” Mummy said a little breathlessly after Jamie had spun her round in a complicated twirl, and he nodded, pleased that she’d noticed his mad moves. “I’m a footballer, ain’t I. Gotta be quick on me feet.”

The song ended and the far slower Have yourself a merry little Christmas began to play. Jamie released his mum to Simon, and as the two of them swayed slowly to Judy Garland’s soft crooning, Jamie took the opportunity to sneak away for a bit, going up the stairs to his old room. It looked pretty much exactly the way he’d left it when he moved into the Academy residence. Mummy (or Simon, probably) kept it clean, but hadn’t moved any of his stuff or done anything about the general messiness of the room. Only the Keeley poster had been a later addition, and only because having semi-nudes up at his academy room had been frowned upon and he’d still been minding the rules back then.

Mad, to think that he’d ended up dating her. Mad, that he’d played with Roy Kent, the one player whose poster he’d never taken down (although he’d come close, the first time he was back home after joining Richmond and Roy had proved to be a massive cunt, but it had felt like letting Roy win somehow, so it had stayed up).

Madder still, that only two nights ago he’d been curled up with both of them on a couch in Roy Kent’s house.

Grinning, he pulled out his phone and called Keeley. Yes, it was late and it was Christmas and it might be a prick thing to do, interrupting whatever celebration they had going, but as much as he was trying to be better, Jamie hadn’t gotten to where he was by not going after what he wanted. Besides, they’d want to know how things had gone, wouldn’t they? Keeley would, at any rate.

His assumption turned out to be correct because Keeley not only picked up, but smiled like she couldn’t be happier to hear from him. “Jamie, hi! You doing all right? Are you up in Manchester?”

“Hi, Keeley. Yeah, I am, yeah.” He paused, taking a moment to just look at her, taking in the loveliness of her face, before adding, “Talked to me mum. It went great. I mean, I was a bit nervous, but it went great, yeah, so it’s all good now.”

“Yeah?” Her smile softened. “That’s amazing, Jamie. Really glad to hear that.”

“Yeah. So, uh, I just wanted to call to tell you and, and, say thanks, I guess. For, you know, telling me I needed to go here. And, uh, merry Christmas.”

“You’re welcome, Jamie. Merry Christmas.”

“Oi!” Roy’s voice, off-camera and sounding unusually high over the speakers. “Keeley, do— Oh, sorry, didn’t realise you were on the phone.” A pause. “That Jamie?”

“Yeah. He’s up in Manchester, come say hi.” Keeley shifted a bit, angling her phone to include Roy in the picture.

Jamie raised an eyebrow. Roy must really be into Christmas, because he was actually wearing a patterned tie with his black shirt and black suit jacket. A dark patterned tie, admittedly, but it had got little golden dots on it, which was far more festive than Jamie would have thought Roy could ever manage.

Then again, he’d had to rethink a lot of his thoughts on Roy in the past two days.

“Hi,” Roy said, sounding… not unsure, exactly, but… not not unsure either. A little reserved, but in a way Jamie, canny reader of people that he was, suspected had more to do with uncertainty over their new relationship status, rather than any real desire to be an arse.

Jamie didn’t blame him. He was feeling a little uncertain himself (which was still a new and not particularly fun experience). Things had changed between them since Roy rushed in to find him crumpled on the floor—but how exactly, and into what?

He guessed they’d find out, and fuck, wasn’t that an interesting thought?

“Hi,” he said. “Merry Christmas. You enjoying the holiday, yeah?” He nodded towards the tie, smirking just a little. (It was a decent tie. Roy looked well fit in it. But if the man didn’t want people taking the piss when he donned a bit of colour he shouldn’t make such a point of always wearing black then, should he?)

Roy rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m loving it. Spent the afternoon knocking on random doors looking for a dentist for my niece, that was a fucking riot. And,” he continued before Jamie had the chance to ask what the hell he was on about, “some nitwit had this John Case box set delivered to my door this morning, because apparently some people have no idea when to fucking quit.”

“Yeah?” Jamie asked, unable to hold back a grin, because while Roy’s word had been gruff, there was a small smile in his eyes that said that they weren’t really. “Think that sounds like great gift, mate. Real thoughtful, like.”

Roy just snorted, but Keeley was clearly holding back a laugh, her eyes shining as they wandered between Jamie on her screen and Roy.

“It’s the last of them,” Jamie promised, just in case Roy actually thought he’d be keeping this up forever from now on. “But I’d already gotten it, so… “ He shrugged.

“It’s fine,” Roy said, then added off Keeley’s not at all discreet elbow to his side, “I mean, thank you.”

Jamie was about to tell him not to overdo it or he’d burst vessel or something, but was interrupted by his mum calling his name from downstairs. “Sorry,” he said. “Gotta go. Be heading back in thirty minutes, so I wanna make the most of it, right?”

“Yeah, of course,” Keeley immediately said (almost covering Roy’s muttered we’re really not stopping you). “Go. And good luck with the game tomorrow, yeah? I’ll be in the box with Rebecca, cheering you on.”

“Decent, yeah. Um, thanks again. Merry Christmas.”

As he moved to end the call, Roy suddenly said, “Jamie, wait.”

Jamie waited. And waited, because whatever it was that Roy had on his mind, he apparently had a hard fucking time getting it out of his mouth.

Eventually, Jamie’s patience wore thin. “Mate, I’m not being funny, yeah. I really gotta go. You maybe wanna send me a fax instead?”

“Oh, that’s very funny,” Roy growled. “The fuck happened to you not being a prick, huh?” Then he made a face, looking pained. “Actually, and I can’t fucking believe I’m about to say this, but maybe sometimes you need to be a prick. Not to people,” he added with narrowed eyes, having apparently caught the way Jamie lit up at that, “but on the fucking pitch. I mean, sometimes. Not all the time. But sometimes, being selfish and going for the shot and getting in the other players heads by being an utter cunt like only you fucking can is better than passing the ball.”

Jamie gaped at him, but before he had time to say anything or ask how the hell he was supposed to know when it was the right time to be a prick, Roy muttered a curt, “That’s it. Bye,” and ended the call.

“Um, rude,” Jamie told the black screen. He was half tempted to call Keeley again, just to tell her bye properly (and maybe tell Roy… something, Jamie wasn’t totally clear on what, because Roy had been rude, but he’d also told Jamie to be a prick sometimes, and had almost smiled at him several times, and that was all just a bit confusing), but he hadn’t lied when he said he wanted to make the most of his time with Mummy before he needed to leave for London again.

“We’re not done, mate,” he told poster-Roy sternly, before adding a far softer, “Good night, Keeley,” to poster-Keeley

And then he headed downstairs, back to Mummy and the rest of his Christmas, and then – when he’d hugged her ten times or a hundred – he headed to London, back to his team and the rest of his life, and it came to him as he sat on the train with the midwinter night speeding past him, that he was travelling both from home and to home and that it was well fucking mint.

#this isn't late it's still december 24:th in loads of places #and i haven't gone to bed so it's a new day for me either #merry christmas dear ones #god jul #only the epilogue left #i am now all christmases out and will collapse into bed #jamie's christmas carol #royjamiekeeley

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daisylore-au · 2 years

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anyone got any nice holiday plans? :>

Holiday Event! - Beginning Post

“I’m spending it right here!” Daisy grins, flopping down between her dad and Dream with a giggle. “They got me loads of stuff this Christmas!!”

Beside her, Dream and George won’t meet each other’s eyes. They’re both dressed up as poor-passing Santas, Dream missing the hat and George missing the white hair, but despite that, they’re surrounded by presents and both seem happy enough. Dream nurses a mug of hot chocolate, and he seems much more at-ease as months have passed: there are even some drawings Daisy has on the fridge showing it. They document the passing months - George and her and Dream all looking nervous, Daisy and Dream holding hands while George stands apart, and, in the past months, Dream and George holding Daisy’s hands under a rainbow, a big bright smile on all three of their faces.

“Show your favourite present,” George says eagerly, “it’s mine, right? I literally built that pool with my own two hands. It took me days.”

Dream scoffs. “Oh, come on. It’s obviously mine. The pool kind of looks more like a pond, George.”

“That’s not true!”

“It is, look at it! There’s literally a duck in it right now!”

“Actually,” Daisy grins, “neither of those are my favourite. It’s this one!”

She jumps up again and runs over to her bike! It’s bright pink and blue and still has ribbon on the wheels from when she’d torn the paper off. There’s a card on the ground next to it, that reads: TO DAISY, HAPPY CHRISTMAS!! FROM BOTH OF US.

“I just learned to use Michael’s without stabilisers!” Daisy says, brimming with pride. “So when I got this, I’m gonna let Michael use it sometimes, but not Emm, ‘cause she wouldn’t let me use hers after I scratched the paint on it, but that was only because I fell. Henry and James can use it, sometimes, and Helga, but Helga can’t ride a bike. She sucks.”

“I don’t suck! Look, we’re early!” Helga yells, crashing in through the front door. Her eyes widen when she sees Dream and George there, and she promptly shoves James back through the open door, hurtling into their parents and a bemused Sam and Ponk. “Wait, wait, everyone look at me!”

Dream and George aren’t smiling anymore. Neither is Daisy. Their guests are early, and Dream is-

Dream is heading straight for the stairs before anyone can say anything, racing upstairs without a word, while George looks wildly around the room for anything that could possibly suggest Dream’s presence. They haven’t told anybody else about the fact Dream is alive again: the only person that knows is Punz, who is away right now in a snow biome trying to find enough snow to decorate the back yard.

Who’s due to be here again? George thinks desperately. Quackity, Karl, Sapnap. Sam, Ponk. Bad, Skeppy... The kids. The kids were all coming round, their presents arranged in neat piles thanks to Daisy and Dream the night before-

“They weren’t supposed to be here yet.” Daisy whispers, voice small, scared. “Are they gonna be mad at me for finding Dream?”

“No, no,” George says automatically, mind reeling, “they won’t be mad. I mean. They will be, at me, if they find out. So let’s just not tell them yet.”

“Lie?” Daisy asks. George hesitates.

On one hand, he’s sick of hiding the truth. He and Dream have... reconciled, over the months. Things are... almost fine between them, ignoring some of the major bumps they refuse to mention or ever talk about, but they get along well - of course they do. How can they not? He and Dream and Sapnap - they’d been parts that made up a whole, and he wants to tell people, he wants people to know and just be happy.

Except that won’t happen. He’s not naive enough to think that. This isn’t the Red Days anymore (George’s hand strays to his neck, where a thin white clean scar refuses to fade away): he knows, now, the extent of the server’s anger and unease of Dream. And more than that, he won’t put Daisy at risk. She brought Dream back to life - the last thing he wants is for the server at large to find that out. George doesn’t want to think about what they’ll do to his daughter if they do.

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, “lie. Just for now. Go and distract the others for a bit while I tidy, right? Give me two minutes.” And then, seeing his daughter’s face- “It’ll be fine. Pinky promise.”

Biting her lip, Daisy nods resolutely. “I trust you,” she says simply, and squeezes her pinky around her dad’s, before rushing outside. The front door slams shut, and George hears her join Helga and James in distracting his friends - which buys him a few precious minutes to rid the house of anything Dream related.

Where does he start?

HOLIDAY EVENT!! As Dream, George, and Daisy celebrate Christmas, guests show up unexpectedly early, guests who don’t know about Dream’s revival. It’s up to you to make sure they don’t find out on Christmas and ruin the day for everyone involved!!

TASK ONE - George can do five things before the adults come into his house. He can move things, throw things in the trash, hide things, close doors, etc. The more tasks you get right, the less chance the others have of finding Dream! Send asks with tasks George needs to do to avoid being caught out, and save Christmas for the kids :D

#sorry i've been so MIA BUT IM BACK AND IM HERE!!! this continues all day until new year (sunday) :D #> daisy lore: writing #> daisy lore: holiday event

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waywardkrypton-blog · 9 months

Text

AITA???/ MASSIVE FEELING POST

So me and my husband bought a new house (about 40 minutes from where we lived before) about a month ago. I have a really good friend who lives in our old town. She’s incredibly busy because she owns a candle shop and it’s Christmas time. Her and her husband were supposed to help us move, but then had to back out because of work. (That’s understandable) but then we kept inviting them over for dinner, and inviting them to come see the house but they never would come until about a week ago. (My husband had to call her and say hey my wife is getting her feelings hurt) (which I was but I got mad at him for telling her that cuz why would you tell someone that 😭😭) Anyway they finally came over, and we hardly talked at all :( like I don’t understand cuz I was trying to talk :( like we wrapped a couple presents then she took a nap on our couch for a little bit and then they had to go back to their house.

But then she drove all the way to Texas to help one of her other friends.

But anyway my feelings are hurt because I feel like we had to beg them to come over, when they’ll go out with other people all the time no problem. And I know that even if I was super busy and my freind bought a house, (major life milestone) I would make time to go see it before the week was up, like I would go early in the morning or late at night even if I would be tired.

But then she asks me to do stuff for her since we live closer to a bigger city now. And I didn’t reply to the text because it feels like I’m being used. But my husband thinks I’m being petty and over reacting. Which I can kinda see. But idk something doesn’t feel right.

But also she even told me, when y’all move I’m not going to drive all that way to come see you all the time. Which is fine. And I understand cuz I have freinds that live about an hour away and it’s hard to find time where our schedules line up to where we can hang out. And gas is expensive and I don’t have a car right now. But if I could afford gas and had a car I would go see them all the time :(

Maybe I’m dealing with a lot more emotion as well cuz my dad has been over here at the house helping me and Husband clean up the yard and trim trees and pressure washing everything for the past month (it was a dump when we bought it) and my mother hasn’t even come down one time :( and that really hurts my feelings cuz her oldest daughter and first son in law (me and Husband) just bought their first house together (major life accomplishment right??) and she won’t even come see it :( like did I do something to make her mad at me?? And I’ve invited her and dad has asked her to come and everything and she just won’t come :( and I feel like I’ll never be good enough for her or anyone

Cuz none of my other friends have come to see the house either but they’re all farther away which is fine and they have school stuff which I understand but the freinds I have that are local haven’t even come over :( and I feel like everyone secretly hates me and thinks I’m annoying or something but I try so hard to be nice to people and always be there for them like I used to get up at 4:30 am to go see people because I had work during the day and a curfew at night :( like I don’t understand why people can’t put in just a little bit of effort to go out of their way to make someone feel wanted :( cuz I would do anything for any of my freinds but the ones that have it easy won’t even come see my house :( and I decorated for Christmas too :((

idk I just feel so lonely and left out :(

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amateurd18 · 2 years

Note

Hii Ami!! Secret Santa here!! Happy Friday!! May your weekend be a long and restful one!! ✨

It was your friends birthday? Well, happy late birthday to them!! 🥳✨ you can never go wrong with Mexican food!!

Ooooo, you’re studying in Madrid? That’s so cool!! What are you studying, if you don’t mind me asking? I had a close friend study abroad in Spain for a semester and absolutely loved it there!! I totally feel you about wanting to move to London!! It sounds like a pretty nice place to live based on the things I hear about it. I remember when I was studying abroad, my friends and I planned our spring break trip to the UK for five days, but due to COVID, we got pulled from our program before we were even able to step foot on the plane there. So I still have that desire to visit the UK for that reason alone lol.

Same here!! I love sweet things, to an extent!! I don’t eat as much surgery things as I did when I was younger!! But when I do, cheesecake is the key to my heart!! Lol.

Thank you!! As of right now, all the owls are packed away from when I decorated my apartment for Christmas. After we introduce ourselves properly, I can definitely send you some photos of my prized ones!! They range from very tiny figures to relatively large ones!! I’m pretty proud of it!!

Lego does count as a collection item lol!! They’re so cool!! I really like the aspect of having to build them (that’s pretty obviously lol, but it truly is therapeutic in a sense!!). Hopefully one day, you can start that collection!! Is there one particular Lego set you would love to have?

Speed Round Answers: Movie/TV Shows? I wasn’t sure if you were asking if I preferred movies or tv shows lol?! I’d probably say tv shows because you can learn more about the characters and their stories through the lens of a series rather than their one dimensional aspects cut short for a movie!! Some of the most recent tv shows I’ve watched are Heartstopper, Young Royals, Wednesday (Netflix cancelled this show after the first season, and I will never forgive them for it!! It’s called The Society and I definitely recommend it if you haven’t watched it already!!) I’ve been rewatching a kids show named Chowder on Hulu for the nostalgia factor lol. Movies/books? Hmmmm… I like books, but I can appreciate a good movie!! I’d say the best book I read this year has been One Last Stop by Casey McQuiston. I highly recommend it!! Who doesn’t love sci-fi lesbian strangers to lovers!!!? Fav. season? The transitional period between summer and fall!! To me, that’s just the perfect weather!! Not too hot or humid, yet not too cold!! Beaches/Mountains? I’d probably live by the beach because I went to college up in the mountains and when it gets cold, it gets cold!!! I’ll risk living around the sand than anything else. City/countryside? I’ve always lived relatively close to the city, but I think it would be nice to get away from it all. Have my own home in a nice large area. But not too big that someone could be living in my home and I wouldn’t know it lol.

Here are more speed round questions, my dear!! Do you have a favorite piece(s) of comfort clothing? (Sweater? T-shirt? Shoes?) What are three things you know you can’t live without? Do you play/enjoy any games (whether that be video games, board games, card games, etc). 🎄✨

Helloo! How is your weekend going? Mine's been fab yay!

I'm doing a dual master - an MBA with a master in business analytics. Why I chose insanity is still unclear, but oh well. It's been hectic but good so no complaints.

I'm so sad that you missed London coz of covid, but here's hoping you can make it there soon. ✨

As far as the Lego goes, i have a long-ass list of very random ones i want. So in no particular order- the entire city collection, the Harry Potter castle, the life-size r2d2 from star wars and the formula 1 Ferrari cars. Is it obvious yet that i love really random stuff? 😂

I love your speed round answers, and I'm putting one last stop on my Christmas read list. Fav clothing: nothing specific, just track pants and a tee / shorts if it's summer. Jeans if i need to be presentable. Three things i can't live without: ooh that's hard. My phone, an internet connection and my earphones. I love board games! Monopoly is a household favourite, as is Uno when we're traveling. Do you have a favourite board game?

More questions: I'm assuming you speak Spanish, but any other languages you speak or want to learn? Do you have celeb crushes? Comfort movie that you'd watch at any point? Do you have a favourite Christmas food?

#anon asks #secret santa #holiday pals

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cjsinkythoughts · 4 years

Text

Not Your Captain

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 1695

Warnings: Falcon and the Winter Soldier Spoilers!!!!! Lots of Angst in this one, guys, lotta feels, some Fluff to counterbalance it, but mostly Angst, Cursing

A/N: This is Part Two to my previous FATWS writing, His Only Contact. FATWS SERIES STERLIST HERE! This one is from Reader’s perspective and gives you a bit more about Reader’s backstory. There will be multiple parts coming out in the next day or two based just on this new episode because damn. It was loaded! Due to this and my workload this past week, I haven’t been able to post the first chapter of my College!AU, Erased From the Stars, but I promise it’s coming! This’ll be my main focus for the weekend though! Expect more parts in the next 24 hours! I’ll be making a masterlist for this particular project in that time, too! Taglists are open! Please contact me if you want to be tagged! Thank you and please enjoy, loves! (Not beta’d, so sorry for mistakes!)

AGAIN: SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The moment you saw it on TV, you knew you had to get to Bucky. You weren’t planning on leaving until the next day, but there was no way you weren’t going. So you caught the first plane you could from the base you were staying at.

You’re feelings were all over the place. Steve had been your best friend for more than the past decade. You were the one there when he first woke up. You were the one to help him get situated. You were the one to help him whenever he needed, to go over to his little place in DC when he was having problems, like the time he thought he was having an asthma attack when it was an anxiety attack or when you had to help him find a new phone after he accidentally broke his.

You were that close to falling in love with him. But life went the other way and, in a weird twist of fate, almost as if the universe wanted to spare you of the heartbreak it knew would come if you gave your heart to the dashing captain, you ended up tripping over your own feet for someone else.

Someone you would never tell.

He was the last thing you had left of Steve and you couldn’t ruin that because of your stupid feelings. And you couldn’t ruin the relationship you had now because it was working. He trusted you, more than anyone else. He trusted you because Steve trusted you and you wouldn’t dare break that trust.

You just hoped, with everything going down in relation to the shield - to his legacy - that you’d be able to keep that promise you made to yourself.

You were in front of his door early in the morning - around four - hesitating to knock. It didn’t take long for him to respond the moment your fist did meet the door.

He looked…tired. You wished, oh how you wished, that you could do more. Anything more. He insisted you helped him plenty already; he claimed he never had nightmares when you were by his side. But it wasn’t enough. Not for what he’d been through. You felt as though you were merely putting a bandaid over a bullet wound.

His chocolate locks were short, above his ears. You could remember how hesitant yet eager he was about doing it. It was difficult to not cut his ear off because he kept moving in anticipation. You would know: you cut it. Those blue eyes that made you trip in the first place were outlined by thick lashes, dark ebony bags beneath them, making the azure pop. He was shirtless, as he usually was when sleeping (or at least trying to sleep), his dog tags resting against his sternum.

You could tell he hadn’t been sleeping. His eyes were bloodshot as if he was watching TV for too long and his hair was less messy than it would be if he actually slept.

The moment his eyes found yours, his plump, chapped lips turned up into the grin he reserved for you and he was pulling you in. Your reaction was instantaneous, your arms slipping around his waist, your chin resting on his shoulder as he found home in the crook of your neck.

He was touch deprived. You knew this, but you never brought it up. Especially considering you were one of the only people he touched willingly. You didn’t want him thinking he was broken, more so than he thought he was already. And you definitely didn’t want to push him into fixing himself. So you didn’t tell him, even though you were pretty sure he knew, and you just let him take the lead.

Sometimes it meant he grabbed your hand in large crowds, or tucked you under his arm when he was threatened. Other times it meant laying his head in your lap when he was tired late at night, or a soft hug in greeting.

Hands slowly tracing his spine, fingers dancing up and down his back, you gave a small smile when you felt him practically purring in your embrace. You could never decide if he was more puppy or kitten. You used to make jokes about the three of them, Steve, Bucky, and Sam, being like a puppy, kitten, and bird that you had to reluctantly pet sit for a friend. You would give almost anything to be joking around like that with them when you went to visit Bucky in Wakanda with Steve.

“Buck?”

He hummed. You didn’t want to pull back, you wanted to stay connected with him for as long as possible, but you had to talk. You didn’t want to talk about it, because that would make it more real, but you had to. You had to.

“Have you seen the news recently?”

His eyebrows furrowed, his lips pulling down. “What happened? Is it Wanda?”

You looked down the hall, your lips pressed together tightly, before nodding inside. “We have to talk.”

He nodded, stepping back and pulling you inside. Seeing the makeshift bed on the floor against the far edge of the sofa made you inwardly sigh, but you didn’t say anything about it. Steve was the same way at first.

“Is she okay? Did you find her? Where-”

“It’s not Wanda.” Turning, you faced him, trying to control your own anger at the situation, knowing it wouldn’t help him any. “It’s…it’s about Steve.”

Those spectacularly blue eyes narrowed, bottom lip being sucked in between his teeth. “What about Steve?”

You gestured for him to come closer, holding out your hand in offering. He took it and followed you as you led him to the couch. A cleared throat and a deep breath later found you gently explaining what happened to him. That the government had taken back the shield and had given it to someone else. A ‘hero just for America’. A ‘new Captain America’.

You could see his features harden with every word, his jaw ticking dangerously, his chest heaving and his nostrils flaring. You squeezed his hand as you finished. “He’s got meetings and stuff with senators and governors. They’re taking him on a tour this week. They-they want me to meet him, considering I’m the last of the original seven. Active on Earth, at least.”

The tears that started forming in his eyes made you swallow your own emotions down thickly. He didn’t need your hatred of this wannabe to fuel his own. He needed your support and comfort. He needed to know you’d be by his side through this.

“Are you?”

You blinked, not expecting his first words to be that question. “Am I what?”

“Going to meet with him?”

“I-I…” You stopped talking, knowing that if you continued you’d end up ranting about how he wasn’t your captain. How he could never be your captain. Debating answers, you decided on a simple, blunt reply. “No.”

“Why…”

Running your thumb over his knuckles, you leaned over slowly to press a chaste kiss to his bare skin and blood shoulder. “Take your time. Collect your thoughts.”

He responded to your words by taking a deep breath, clenching his eyes shut, his jaw so tight you feared he might chip his teeth. It was a tense minute before he said anything, the room being filled with his harsh breathing. “You said he gave them the shield.”

“What?”

“Yesterday. You told me he gave up the shield. They put it in the Smithsonian. But you just said they took it from him.”

“He did give it to them, but-”

“Why?” His eyes snapped open, his features twisting into ones of frustration and resentment. “Why’d he give it to them?”

You shook your head, knowing Sam didn’t mean for any of that to happen. He had called you a few weeks ago to ask about your opinion on the matter. You told him that Steve trusted him, and you trusted Steve, so if Sam thought that was the right thing to do…you trusted him. “It’s not Sam’s fault. Don’t be mad-”

“Don’t be mad?! Don’t be mad?!” Bucky shot up, ripping his hand away from yours, making you bite your lip and hang your head as he paced in front of you. “Steve gave it to him! And he just gives it away like he’s regifting a shitty frisbee as a Christmas present! And you don’t want me to be mad?! Are you fucking kidding me, Y/N?!”

Cringing at the use of your name, which you rarely hear fall from his lips, especially in vexation like just then, you looked up at him, eyes pleading. “Bucky, I get it. I do. I’m mad, too. I’m-I’m furious. But you can’t blame Sam. Please. He just - he’s trying, Buck. Just like me. Just like you. We’re all trying.”

Bucky’s shoulders fell as he stared at you, eyes darting from feature to feature as he studied your face. Before you could say anything else, he was on the floor in front of you, in between your legs, arms wrapped around your waist and face pressed into your stomach.

You could tell he was holding something back - something big - but you wouldn’t push him. You never did. Displaying feelings was always hard for him, even in the early 1900’s; Steve used to tell you stories when you were looking for him after the fiasco in DC. Bucky grew up being the oldest of four and the only boy. On top of that, his best friend was a scrawny, stubborn, punching bag of a boy. According to Stevie, neither of them really learned how to cope or how to deal with feelings. And it showed. Boy, did it show.

Instead of getting on him and asking what was wrong and begging for him to talk to you, your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, as you sat back to make the position more comfortable for him.

“Stay with me. I need you.”

You leaned down to press a soft kiss to his head, nodding into his hair. “I’ll stay. For as long as you need me, Buckaroo.”

Taglist (OPEN):

@happygoreading, @thatsdarwinism, @satellitespidey

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fangirlovestuff · 3 years

Text

Flung Out of Space - Natasha Romanoff x reader

a/n - hey lovely people!! merry christmas to all that celebrate it:)) so, i’ve been wanting to write this fic for a while and i’m really glad i got to, this is heavily inspired by the movie Carol, which is basically a gay christmas movie. i love it, and so i’ve cast natasha in the role of carol and reader in the role of therese and sort of rolled from there. i hope you enjoy<3

summary: You’ve been waiting for something bigger than this job at the departement store, maybe being a photographer. That something big comes to you in the form of one stunning Natasha Romanoff, who understand you better than you understand yourself. You’ll both never be the same.

word count: 8k

warnings: implied smut, mentions of a gun (no one uses it), angst, responsible alcohol consumption, mentions of divorce, mentions of homophobia, language. all of the men in this story are trash, it’s nothing personal.

disclaimer: i think this reads well even if you haven’t watched the movie, but if you’re intending to watch it, maybe wait with this fic since it contains the majot plot points:) also, i left a couple of characters like they are in the movie, and some are marvel characters i “cast”, so if you don’t know a name it’s probably from the movie. also also, i did use the plot of the movie and some direct quotes, with some changes, but still - stuff from the movie are obviously not mine and i don’t claim them to be.

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You almost thought she wouldn't show up. That it was all some sort of joke, or dream. Sitting alone at that table, you were starting to beat yourself up again, because how could you be so stupid again, and why, for once in your life could you not say no to any-

But there she was. There she was, in that light grey coat that brought out her sharp, bright blue eyes, red hat resting on top of neat red hair. Put together.

There was something utterly enchanting about her. There always has been, since that very first day you met her. You couldn't look away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a normal day until she came in.

It's not like you expected a job at a big department store to be interesting. You took it because it was just a job to bring in some money, so you wouldn't have to depend on Ri- on anyone. Maybe if they decided to give you a holiday bonus you could get a proper camera, better than the old one you have now.

See, being a photographer would be interesting. But who would ever let you do it? no one. You're not even good.

So, it wasn't often you were interested in your work. You were barely ever fully in the moment, lost in your own head more often than not. That's why it took you by surprise to notice the woman's presence from all the way across the store. That was the first reason you knew she was special.

You locked eyes with her from across the room, and for a moment, your thoughts vanished, every fiber of your being focused solely on her. The first thought you regained was why is everyone else not looking? How can they not be this captivated?

The second one was that obviously, they weren't doing so because it's rude to stare. Like you were doing right now.

Hurriedly, you lowered your eyes, swallowing dryly.

Thankfully, a customer came up to ring up her purchase, and then another mother with her little girl asked where the bathroom was, and you've nearly forgotten all about the lady, your thoughts taking over again, until she was standing right in front of you.

"Hello," she smiled at you, reading out your name from your name tag. It sounded prettier than ever falling easily from her lips.

"Hi," you replied, rattling off the automatic response, "happy holidays, how may I assist you?"

"Well," the woman said, "I'm looking for this doll, hold on," she took out a note from her bag and slid it to you over the counter. It had the name of a doll you knew was out of stock, which is what you told her.

"Oh, what a shame. My daughter wanted it for so badly," she furrowed her brows slightly, still sending you a small smile. "Oh well. Tell me, when you were a little girl, what did you wish for as a Christmas present?"

"A train set," you answered, your lack of hesitation taking you by surprise. It was true, but you were surprised you'd said it this readily.

The woman chuckled warmly. "Well then, I'll take the train set."

"No problem ma'am, we can have it delivered to you just in time for Christmas if you want, our new fast shipping takes about three business days," you informed her with a smile.

"Thank you, you're a real saint."

You took down her shipping address, credit card number, and the exact train model. "And your name, ma'am?"

"Natasha Romanoff," she answered.

"Alright. Here's your receipt, and that train set should be there in a few days' time," you smiled. Your fingers brushed hers as you grabbed the piece of paper from her hand.

She smiled back and thanked you once more before leaving the store. She had such an elegant way to her, dignified and yet humorous and kind. Like you wished you were.

Looking down, you noticed her glove was left there. You looked up to call after her, but she was already gone, and you couldn't leave the register. Looking down again, a plan was formed in your mind. You did have her shipping address, after all, so it would be the kind thing to do, spread the holiday spirit a little.

You kept wondering if she'd gotten the glove, or if her daughter will like the train set. But it’s not like these questions will be answered.

You were pondering it once more when you heard your name being called.

"Phone call for you," your manager called out, and you signaled one of your coworkers to take your place at the register as you stepped up to the phone.

"Hello?"

"It's Natasha, Natasha Romanoff. I just wanted to thank you, for the glove and the train set. I'm sure when Rindy's going to open it, she'll love it. How can I repay you?"

"Oh, it's nothing, Ms. Romanoff," you tried to fight the grin off your face. You didn't even know why you were smiling.

"No, really. Tell you what, I'm in town again this noon, so how about we meet for lunch? My treat."

"Well, that's so kind of you, Ms. Romanoff, but I-"

"Call me Natasha. Please." You thought you heard the trace of a smile in her voice.

"Natasha. I have a very short lunch break, and I wouldn't want to inconvenience you in terms of your schedule-"

"Oh, nonsense. Do you have a pen and paper to write the name of the restaurant? It's called Viognier"

You were smiling now, "Viognier?"

"It's French," she answered with a smile. "Are you writing down the address?"

You wrote down the name and address she gave you.

"Thank you, M- Natasha," you corrected.

"Of course. I look forward to seeing you," she said, and you hung up the phone and got back to work, thoughts racing at full speed.

She was so puzzling, Natasha Romanoff. You wondered if lunch would help you figure her out better.

As it turns out, it didn't.

Natasha was talking to the waiter, but you couldn’t focus on what she was saying, looking at her lipstick-red lips instead.

"And for you, ma'am?" the waiter asked.

"Oh," you skimmed the menu quickly, "um, I'll just have whatever she's having."

"The dish or the drink, ma'am?"

"Both," you smiled shyly at Natasha, who only returned your smile warmly.

"I hope your daughter would like the gift," you started hesitantly.

"Yeah, I'm sure Rindy will like it," Natasha smiled, taking out a cigarette case from her purse. "Would you like one?" she extended it to you.

"Oh, no, thank you."

She lit the cigarette between her lips, puffing out the smoke. You've never liked smokers much, but a part of you itched to take a photograph of her smoke-shrouded face. The other part ached to uncover her face from behind the smoke.

Both parts thought she was beautiful.

And you're staring again.

You cleared your throat. "So how old is she? Rindy?"

"Six," Natasha smiled, her gaze fixed somewhere behind you before focusing back on you. "She's staying with her father until tomorrow, then spending Christmas with me."

"Her father?" you asked, puzzled, before you could realize what you're saying. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to pry-"

"It’s alright," she chuckled, that enchanting twinkle of amusement dancing in her eyes. "Bucky, well, James. My husband, for now. We're getting a divorce."

"Oh." You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but you had no idea what.

"What about you," Natasha took mercy on you, "Anyone special?"

"Well, there's Richard, my, uh, my boyfriend. He's trying to convince me to go to France with him. I think he'd like my hand in marriage." The words came easily, without a thought. Sitting in front of Natasha, everything else faded away, including the noise of your thoughts.

"And would you like to marry him?" she inquired with a curious smile.

"Well. I can't even decide what to order for lunch," you answered simply, smiling.

Your smile got wider when she let out a small laugh at your words. What a wonderous sound.

"What a stranger girl you are." And when she said your name again, it sounded even better than the last time.

"Why do you say that?"

"Flung out of space," she answered softly.

Maybe it was a jab at you for having your head in the clouds. Or maybe it meant something else you didn't understand. It wasn't hard to believe she knew something you didn't. In fact, if she'd told you she knew everything, you'd believe her.

"Here's your plate ma'am."

Oh, right. You were sitting at a restaurant, waiting for your food. That's where you are.

"You know, you're probably quite the city girl," Natasha said, scooping up a piece of her food on her fork, blowing on it softly before wrapping her lips around it and taking the bite.

She's waiting for you to reply.

"Oh, well. I actually prefer the country," you shrugged. That's why Richard's been trying to get me to go to the French countryside, you wanted to say. But talking about Richard felt wrong. "I live in the city because it's more comfortable," you said instead, taking a bite out of your own plate. It was delicious.

"Really? Well in that case, you should really come by my house sometime," she smiled at you, her blue eyes seemingly the brightest source of light in the dim restaurant. "I live not far out into the country. Besides, I probably wouldn't know how to assemble that train set myself anyway."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So you're going away with her, but not with me? You don't even know her!"

"Yes," you answered, fighting to keep your cool as you pushed a couple of shirts into the small suitcase. Yes was your go-to answer. It only sucked sometimes.

"Are you serious right now? I've been trying to get you to come with me for months and now you're just taking a trip with this total stranger?"

"it's not- I owe her a favor."

"Oh really? I don't think that's true. You don't even know her long enough to owe her shit!" Richard yelled. "What, you have some sort of sick crush on this woman?"

"No!" you yelled back, finally breaking, "please, just stop yelling about this!"

"You're the one yelling about this!" he didn't lower his voice. "Tell you what, if you are seriously walking out of this door right now with this fucking suitcase we're done. Done, you hear me?"

"Bye Richard," you mumbled, stuffing the last few items in your suitcase and closing it.

"Really? We've been together for years and you're gonna throw that away just like that for this total stranger?"

You can't talk to me like that, Richard! You wanted to scream, you've never really loved me, you don't even respect me! You don't even support me!

"Yes," you answered instead, your voice a mere whisper.

He left.

You locked the apartment door behind you and went down the stairs, getting into Natasha's car and greeting her with a smile.

"Ready to go?" she asked.

"Sure am," you smiled.

You were driving around in silence for a while. It was fine. It gave you space to think about Richard. Yes, he's never truly loved you. But really, have you ever loved him?

"What are you thinking about?" Natasha asked.

"Nothing," you shrugged, "just… nothing."

"Okay. By the way, could we stop and get a tree on the way? If it doesn't bother you. I promised Rindy I'd get one."

"Of course," you smiled, "no problem at all."

It took only a little while longer for you to get to the tree farm. Natasha parked the car and got out to buy a tree, telling you she'd be just a moment.

In the windy December air, strands of her red hair flew across her face. She reached to tuck them away, only for them to do the same moments later.

You couldn't resist the urge now, taking your camera out from your bag and adjusting it to snap a few photos of her. Only a couple, so you won't finish the film. After all, you never got any holiday bonus.

You had to put the tree inside the car, its trunk in the backseat, and its branches and leaves a barrier between you.

"Did you take a picture of me?" she asked, "When I got the tree?"

Her face was hidden behind the greenery, but she didn't sound angry.

"I- I'm sorry, I should've asked you first."

"It's alright," she chuckled, and you relaxed a little into your seat. "You should show me these once you develop them. You like taking photos?"

"I do," you answered bashfully.

Natasha only hummed in response.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Mommy!"

The happy cry of the little girl was the first thing that reached your ears once you opened the door at Natasha's house.

"My princess!" Natasha picked Rindy in her arms and spun her around, "look what we brought you!" Natasha balanced Rindy on her hip with one hand and pointed at the car with the other.

"A Christmas tree!" she yelled gleefully, "thank you mommy!"

"Of course, pumpkin," Natasha smiled at her daughter, "I promised I'd get you one. You want to help decorate it later?"

"Can I be in charge of decorating, and you'll help me?"

"Why of course, I should've suggested that from the start!" she pressed her finger into Rindy's side, tickling her, and the girl laughed. "C'mon, let's go inside and eat first."

Natasha was so strong. Not only physically, even though you're sure it was an effort lifting up the girl like that. But little Rindy had dark hair, presumably like her father's. she wasn't just Natasha's. And yet Natasha didn't care, and loved her more than anything, and that was apparent. Loving so loudly must require undeniable strength.

That afternoon Natasha and Rindy worked on the tree, and you mostly sat and watched them from afar, brought them tea as well. Rindy did have a lot of her mother in her after all, her confident posture and charming blue eyes. It was heartwarming, to see them like this. It was a togetherness you never really got, bittersweet domesticity like you've never known, never been a part of, always an observer.

That night, after Rindy had gone to bed, you were sitting at the piano in the living room, mindlessly playing an old song you learned long ago, the only one you still remembered. Natasha had been sitting on the floor, no shoes on, her stocking-clad legs tucked beneath her as she sipped on a glass of one. She offered you one, but you refused politely. You didn't feel like you need it.

You jumped at the touch of warm hands on your shoulders. So immersed in your thoughts, you didn't notice Natasha creeping up on you.

"It's beautiful," she said softly, looking straight into your eyes, straight into your soul, it seemed.

"I- thank you. It's just an old song."

Before Natasha could reply there was a loud knock at the door.

"Who could it be at such an hour?" she wondered out loud, a small crease forming between her eyebrows. She went to open the door, and you only dared to peek at the entrance from behind the wall.

"Bucky? What are you doing he-"

"Where's Rindy?" the man asked, pushing past Natasha and making his way inside. You ducked back behind the wall, but you'd seen him – tall, broad, with dark hair like Rindy's. and the name – Bucky, didn't leave you any doubt as to who it was.

"Asleep in her bed," Natasha answered, and the sound of footsteps ceased, "What's going on?"

"She's coming with me to her grandmother," he answered.

"Right now? But Bucky, we agreed she'd be here Christmas morning and then go to your parents', and she's not packed, and for god's sake, she's asleep!"

You didn't know Natasha for a long time, but you had the sense she's not a woman who folds a lot. But right now, she sounded on the edge of desperate.

"Yeah, but she should come with me, sh- who is that?"

You didn't notice them come closer, and you were still standing with your back to the wall when they came into the living room.

"Bucky, listen, this isn't wh-"

"No, this is exactly what I think it is, isn't it? Well, you're not doing that with my daughter in your house. Not anymore!" he started storming upstairs, Natasha only sparing you a frantic glance before following him.

"Bucky, I swear to you, she just-"

You couldn't make out their argument from upstairs, so you sat at the piano stool and waited. You waited until they came down the stairs, Rindy in the man's hands. In Bucky's hands. When Natasha held her, she looked strong. When he did, he looked menacing. Too big for this small child.

They went outside, and once more you couldn't decipher what was going on, but Natasha was the only one that came back in, tears shining in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said shakily, blinking her tears away, and going to her bag, taking out the cigarette packet and pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. "Just when you think it can't get any worse, you run out of cigarettes," she sighed. "There's a train back to the city in a couple of hours. I'll give you a ride to the station."

That car ride was silent all throughout, a mumbled "thanks for the ride" from you the only goodbye said.

By the time you were home again, it was after 2 am already. And yet, your floor's phone was ringing.

"Hello?" you answered in a whisper.

And even over the phone, you loved it when she said your name. "I just wanted to apologize again, and see you got home safe."

"Yeah, I'm home," you whispered back.

"Good. Can I come by tomorrow? I'll bring a better apology with me. Promise."

"Okay," you answered hesitantly, "but Natasha, I wanna know. I think. I mean, I wanna ask you things. But I'm not sure that you want that."

"Ask me things," she whispered her reply, her voice breaking, "please."

"Okay. Goodnight Natasha," you whispered.

"Goodnight."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was finally Christmas. You spent the morning roaming the streets, the shops. You still had a bit of money saved from Richard's gift that you wouldn't be buying, so maybe you'd spend it on something for yourself. Not enough for a camera, but enough for a record or two, maybe.

You entered the record store, flipping through the different genres aimlessly, until you found what you were looking for, even though you didn't know you were.

It was the record with the song you'd played to her on the piano. You didn't know if it was a present to you or to her yet, but you asked the cashier to wrap it.

In the early afternoon there was a knock at your door. You opened it to reveal Natasha, suitcase in tow, put together once more. She was as beautiful as always, but there was a different sort of beauty to her when she unraveled, hair down, strong and on the edge of desperate. You almost weirdly missed it, even if the circumstances when you'd seen her like that weren't… great.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," she smiled.

"Not at all. Come on in," you gestured with a small smile.

"So. You got any photographs in here?" she asked, and maybe you actually liked the teasing glint in her eyes the best.

"Well, not the ones I took of you, but I do have some. Hold on," you went to a small cabinet in your kitchen, reaching to the back of it to pull out your stack of treasured photographs, the ones you liked the most so you kept.

You couldn't help but examine Natasha's face as closely as she was examining the photos. Seeing every twitch of her lips, every quirk of an eyebrow. "These are great," she complimented once she was done. "Is that what you want to be? A photographer?"

"I think so," you answered. "If I have any talent for it."

"Isn't that something other people let you know you have? All you can do is keep working. Use what feels right. Throw away the rest."

You could only nod at her words, not knowing what to say until she spoke up again.

"Now I'm glad I bought it."

"Huh?"

"Your gift. Come on," she led you to where she had left her suitcase. "Close your eyes," she winked, and you did, grinning as you listened to the sound of the zipper opening.

"Now… open them," she instructed gently.

In front of you, on top of the suitcase, was a camera. A real, good, new camera.

"I- Natasha, thank you so much, I don't even know… I mean, I couldn't possibly-"

"Nonsense," she dismissed, "it's a thank you for the glove and an apology, so just do me a favor and accept it."

"I- thank you," you repeated softly, still stunned.

"You're welcome, dear. Now, can I smoke in here?"

"There's a smoke detector. We could go on the roof," you suggested.

"Good. Lead the way," she gestured.

You led her onto your apartment building's roof, and watched as she leaned on the railing, lighting a cigarette. She sighed the smoke out through her red lips. "I'm going away for a while," she said.

Your brows furrowed on their own, and you spoke before you could think. "When? Where?"

"Wherever my car will take me." She took another puff of the cigarette and exhaled. "West. Soon. Bucky has Rindy for at least a month. He's lawyered up, with the divorce, and-" she sighed, "he won't let me see her for a few months."

A heavy silence settled between you. "And, I thought, perhaps, you might want to come with me," she continued. "Would you?

You didn't really think about it, but you knew that this time, it was right to say it. "Yes. Yes, I would."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You've never been on a road trip before.

Natasha and you stopped at a diner at the side of the road to have an early supper.

"Oh, I got you something too," you remembered. You considered giving it to her when you were packing, but it didn't feel like the right moment. You took out the wrapped record and extended it to her. "Open it."

"Oh, you shouldn't have," she smiled. You reached for your camera. "God, don't," she chuckled once she saw it, "I look a mess." She reached to smooth down her hair and you giggled.

"Come on, open it," you encouraged, "I'll get your reaction. It's good practice."

She huffed out another laugh and tore through the wrapping paper, and her face lit up when she saw the record. You took a picture, but you weren't sure if even the most advanced camera could've captured her lips with quite the same effect as seeing them in person.

"It has the song I played. On the piano," you explained bashfully.

"It's wonderful. Thank you," she smiled.

"Merry Christmas," you replied softly.

"Merry Christmas," she repeated.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next week or so were spent driving. Lots and lots of driving. And stopping at a different motel every night.

At first you were hesitant, but you found it hard to stay that way in Natasha's company. She was always so assured, eloquent, regal almost in the way she carried herself. It was still a little odd to you that wherever she walked, not every singly person turned in her direction, gravitated towards her. Wasn't it the most natural thing in the world to do?

"Here, try this lipstick on," she said, giving you a red lipstick that seemed a shade darker than the one she was usually wearing. Although right now, she wasn't wearing any makeup, and you were both sitting on the carpeted floor of the motel you were in, the second night of the trip.

You applied it carefully and smacked your lips exaggeratedly a couple of times, making Natasha laugh. Her laugh was just as captivating as the rest of her.

"Now mascara," she extended another tube to you and took the lipstick back, your fingers brushing in the process. It inevitably happened a lot in the last few days, with you being around each other all the time. You liked it.

When you finished, she handed you a mirror, and you gaped at the woman staring back at you.

"You look great!" Natasha laughed at your stunned expression. "Beautiful," she murmured softly as you continued to look in the mirror.

The next day you were driving. Again.

"Are you thinking about Richard?" she asked.

"No," you answered. "I haven't thought about him all day. Or of home, really. Not yesterday either. Not the day before that. We're not… together anymore."

"Oh."

You talked on the road a lot. Sometimes you'd tell her funny stories about clients at the department store. She told you about her daughter a lot. You knew she loved her, her emotions apparent to you in the way her eyes lit up and her red lips quirked upwards just slightly.

You thought sometimes she looked at you like that, but it was probably just a trick of the light.

The fourth night you got into another motel. Again.

The woman at reception greeted you warmly and explained about their available rooms at Natasha's request.

"Our standard rooms come equipped with stereophonic console radios, or we do have the Presidential Suite available for a very attractive rate," she said.

"Two standard rooms should be fine then," Natasha took out her wallet to pay.

"Why not take the Presidential Suite?" you asked suddenly, surprising yourself. And Natasha as well, apparently, as she turned to look at you with that amused expression of hers. "I mean, if the rate's attractive," you shrugged.

"Sure. You're right, the rate is attractive," Natasha smiled, "We'll take it."

You didn't take separate rooms anymore. The endless hours on the roads, although seeming to you as fleeting moments, as not enough time, had brought you closer.

The fifth night, she was taking a shower and you had just come back into the room.

"Is that you?" she asked, and once you confirmed, continued, "can you fetch me my blue sweater? It's in my suitcase."

"Sure, hold on."

You opened her suitcase and started rummaging through it, trying not to leave a lot of mess. You found the sweater, but when you took it out, a glint caught your attention. You moved the clothes to uncover a small gun.

"Hey, you alright?" she called out.

"Yep, found it," you answered, hastily covering the gun again.

The next day you knew you had to say something.

"Do you feel safe?" you asked her. "With me?"

She only let out a baffled chuckle.

"If you weren't feeling safe, you would tell me," you continued, "right?"

"I mean yes. I guess so," she smiled. Even though she didn't take her eyes off of the road, you could see that familiar glint of amusement in them, and everything was okay.

You had a glass of wine with her the sixth night, giggling together about nothing and everything, and going to sleep with a pleasant feeling bubbling in your stomach. You took some pictures that night, like you did every day. Of her.

The next day was New Year's Eve.

You'd gotten a bottle of champagne from room service, and it wasn't that cold. This was a motel after all. So you went to the icebox to grab some ice.

Struggling a little, fumbling with the cold, you were grateful when a man came up next to you.

"Need help with that?" he smiled.

"Um, thank you," you said, somewhat awkwardly, as he got you the ice.

"Thanks, again. Goodnight," you smiled at him when he was done.

"You're welcome. Happy new year!" he smiled back.

You went back to the room, putting the champagne in the ice until it cooled. You sat at the vanity, which was the only table in the small room, and poured two glasses, extending one to Natasha, who was standing behind you.

"Happy new year," she smiled, raising her glass.

"Happy new year," you echoed, clinking your glass against hers, then taking a small sip, Natasha doing the same.

You turned back to face the mirror and she sighed. "Bucky and I never spend New Year's Eve together. Always a business function. Always clients to entertain."

"Well," you replied, "I always spend New Year's alone. In crowds." Looking into her eyes through the mirror, you added, "I'm not alone this year."

"Yeah," she murmured as you turned your head to look at her, tilting it up.

You were drowning, without your thoughts but with so many feelings you thought you would suffocate, and it never felt like that with Richard, how could it? he was never her.

If you wouldn't have closed the distance you thought you could have died. There was no other choice but to breath. Natural, undeniable.

Kissing Natasha was like fresh air, but also knocked the air out of your lungs, and also it was new and exciting but also achingly familiar as you drowned in the smell of her, stronger than you ever got to sense it, drowned in her lips, which you spent hours familiarizing yourself with from afar.

You ended up on a bed, and she was kissing along your neck, murmuring into your collarbones, "My angel. Flung out of space."

And you finally understood. You understood, and your entire body was thrumming with anticipation and with yes. And this was the most beautiful your name has ever sounded, you were now certain, falling from her lips like this. You knew now what it meant to be on the good edge of desperate and you've never loved anything more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Good morning," you whispered as the first rays of sun burst through the window, caressing Natasha's arm. Her skin was smooth and milky and finally familiar.

"Morning," she smiled sleepily.

"I'll get up, see if I can get us some breakfast and if there's any mail maybe. Be back in a bit."

"Okay," she sighed, her eyes still closed.

Breakfast was only served in a designated room, but you did get two coffees, and, surprisingly, one letter addressed to Natasha.

Also surprisingly, she was up and dressed when you came back, and had almost finished packing your suitcases back up. Not that you unpacked much in the first place.

You handed her a coffee, made the way you knew she took it, with a smile. She took a grateful sip and sent you a bright smile.

"There was a letter for you," you said, handing it to her and taking her place putting her clothes back in her suitcase as she opened it.

Her face was growing darker by the second though, and by the time she was done reading you had already hastily finished packing, now tensely focused on her face.

"My suitcase," she said curtly, her jaw locking. "I need- where's my suitcase?"

"It's right here," you answered, showing her. "Natasha, what happened?"

"Where is it," she mumbled, opening her suitcase and moving the clothes around in a frenzy.

"What's going on?" you asked again, your worry increasing, and increasing even more when she found what she was apparently looking for. The gun.

"Natasha, please, tell me what's wrong!"

But it was to no avail. You followed her as she went out of the room and let herself into the neighboring room, where the man who helped you with the ice last night was.

As was equipment. Lots of wires and electrical parts, connected inside the suitcase. And to the wall his room shared with yours.

"Where's the tape?" Natasha asked, pointing the gun at the man, her eyes filling with tears. Was it rage? Sadness? What did the letter even say?

The man raised his arms from where he was rolling up some wires. "Whoa, let's calm down and-"

"Where's the tape, bastard?" Natasha repeated, cocking the gun. "How much did he give you for it? I'd give you more."

"I'm sorry ma'am, but I don't have it. I sent it already. I get paid to be good at my job."

"You sick-" she breathed heavily, "how could you do this?"

"As I said, I get paid to be good at my job. Your husband paid me to get this tape and get it to him as soon as possible, and I did. Nothing personal."

She stared at him for a few more tense moments as you processed what he just said, processed what the device was, what tape she was talking about.

This was all your fault. She could lose Rindy over this. And all because you were stupid enough to say yes.

Then, Natasha sighed shakily, lowering the gun and storming out. She put it back in the suitcase, and wordlessly, you helped her get the suitcases into the car. And you drove off.

"We're going to Chicago," she said.

You didn't answer, still looking out of your window.

"What are you thinking? You know how many times a day I ask you that?" Natasha asked sternly.

"Sorry," you sighed. "What am I thinking? I'm thinking that I'm utterly selfish."

"Don't do this. You had no idea. How could you have known?"

"I should have said no to you, but I never say no," you continued, tears filling your eyes. "And it's selfish because... because I just take everything, and I don't even know anything. And I don't even know what I want. How could I when all I ever do is say yes to everything?"

You couldn't stifle your sobs anymore, turning your head even further towards the window and breathing rapidly, trying to compose yourself as quickly as possible. You weren't even the one that should be falling apart right now. If anyone had the right to do so, it's her.

Natasha abruptly stopped at the side of the road. She turned to you, and gently reached out and tilted your face towards her.

"Listen to me," she said softly, and you looked into her eyes. It was a force of nature that drew you to always look at her, stronger than you. "I took what you gave willingly. It's not your fault. Okay?"

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, only managing to nod as your answer. It was enough for Natasha, who went back to driving.

You got to Chicago that evening. You would've marveled at the large city and its lights if it were any other day.

"Ah, a real bed," Natasha sighed, plopping down on one of the beds in your room.

Not answering, you sat down on the other and took off your shoes.

"You don't have to, you know," she whispered. "Sleep in the other bed."

You got up and made your way to her outstretched arms, not even changing your clothes. Just being engulfed by her was almost overwhelming again, and with everything that happened that day and the night before, you fell asleep in no time, her comforting smell the last thing you registered.

When you woke up, the smell was but a faint trace. Natasha was gone, and there was another woman sitting on the chair in the room where you put your suitcases yesterday, where Natasha's suitcase was now gone.

The woman had blue eyes and reddish-brown hair, nowhere near as bright as your Natasha.

"Is she gone?" you asked, your voice a mere whisper.

"We should have breakfast," she answered instead, "I'll let you get ready."

"Wait," you called out, louder than was necessary, the sound of your voice grating even on your own ears. It was easier with Natasha. Talking. "Who are you?" you asked.

"Wanda Maximoff," the woman answered. "Now come on, we don't have all day."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Down at breakfast, you were sitting across from Wanda and sipping your coffee silently, your uneaten food seemingly staring back at you.

"Eat," Wanda instructed, "We have a long drive."

"Why do you hate me?"

"Who told you that?" she said, sounding annoyed. "If I hated you, do you think I'd be here to drive you home?"

"You're doing that for Natasha, not for me," you mumbled.

Wanda just sighed, telling you to eat again and taking a bite of her own food. You took a bite of yours but couldn't leave it alone.

"You love her, don't you?"

"Look, what Natasha and I have had… it's very different. We go way back," she looked up at you, the ghost of a sad smile on her lips. Not as pretty as your Natasha. "We were best friends, and then we were more than that for a little bit. When we both needed it. And we're still best friends. I've known her since we were both very young."

You nodded at her words, taking a few more bites of your food while she rummaged around her purse.

"There you go," she extended you an envelope. It carried the same faint trace of Natasha's perfume just like the sheets in the morning, and it made your stomach churn. "She left this for you."

"Okay," you whispered, swallowing and nodding weakly.

"If you're done, we should get going."

You only opened the envelope when you were securely in the backseat of Wanda's car, her eyes occupied on the road.

You couldn't resist the urge to take a hesitant sniff of it. Because it smelled like her. Then, you could stall no longer, and you opened it and started reading, your eyes filling with more and more tears with every line.

Dearest,

There are no accidents, and he would have found us one way or another. Everything comes full circle. Be grateful it was sooner rather than later.

You'll think it harsh of me to say so, but no explanation I offer will satisfy you. Please don't be angry when I tell you that you seek resolutions and explanations because you are young. But you will understand this one day. And when it happens, I want you to imagine me there to greet you, our lives stretched out ahead of us, a perpetual sunrise.

But until then, there must be no contact between us. I have much to do, and you, my darling, even more. Please believe that I would do anything to see you happy. So, I do the only thing I can... I release you.

-N

And before you knew it tears were streaming down your face because it was all so painfully unfair. Because you knew that maybe there was some truth to her words. Because you knew she needed to fight for her daughter, and you by her side would only hinder her.

Because there was a small, selfish part of you that didn't care, that wanted nothing more than to be by her side, no matter what, to be with her, like a moth drawn to a flame, no rational thought, only feelings so strong you were certain you couldn't feel without her ever again.

You couldn't stifle your sobs anymore, and Wanda heard, pulling over near a patch of grass on the side of the road. You left the letter on the seat and rushed out, running, the sheer force of your crying sending bile up your throat. You heaved over the grass, throwing up what little breakfast you had.

You were panting, breathing uneven, your heart erratically beating in your chest as you fought to control it, when Wanda came up behind you and put a hand on your back.

Without words, you knew what she was saying. You had to continue.

And you did. You continued.

Quit your job at the department store too, since your eyes would stay fixed on the entrance, expecting her to somehow walk in, to have a second chance. It hurt too much.

At first, you thought about getting a similar job in retail, but Natasha's words rang in your ears.

All you can do is keep working. Use what feels right. Throw away the rest.

You got a job as an assistant photographer at the local newspaper.

But other than that, you tried to erase every trace of Natasha from your life, but to no avail. You couldn't bring yourself to throw away the countless photos you had taken of her, nor the letter. They were kept in the back of another cabinet.

And it's not like you could throw the camera away.

So every day, you'd live with her shadow looming over you. You knew you shouldn't, that you should try harder to forget her. But even the shadow of her presence had a certain comfort, and you took what you could get. Even if you'd probably never see her again, you couldn't unsee her, in wisps of red hair, an elegant coat, lipstick red lips. Never her, never as captivating as her, but always undeniable getting your attention for a brief second, daring to hope that maybe- but it never was.

Three months passed like that, without any word from her. Until one day, you were called out of a newspaper meeting, saying there was a letter for you. Surprisingly, you didn't immediately hope it was her, it took you a minute or two as you excused yourself. Maybe you were getting better.

But even more surprisingly, it was from her.

I'm in town, so I thought we could chat if you want. Meet me at the Ritz restaurant, 7 pm. We'll get dinner.

If you can't come, I'll understand.

-N

You toyed around with the idea of not coming for the rest of the afternoon, but you were fooling no one, least of all yourself.

You left early to go home and get ready and arrived at the restaurant ten minutes early. There was a reservation with Natasha's name. You sat at the table and waited.

And 7 pm passed, and then every minute seemed like forever. She was late. And maybe she wouldn't come at all, and it was all some sort of joke. And maybe you shouldn't have come, shouldn't have dared to hope-

But there she was. Red lipstick, a light grey coat, a hat over her perfectly neat hair. Put together, elegant.

Although now, you knew she looked even better when she wasn't put together, when she was falling apart, or falling asleep. Knowing what she was like when she wasn't put together made it odd to see her like this, made you crave seeing her in her natural state again, made you crave to set her free. But you still wondered how it was possible that no one turned their head to look at her, how can no one see what you see, feel what you feel, your gaze drawn to her the most natural thing in the world.

And before you knew it, one look at her and you were falling again, fast and scary.

Her eyes caught yours from across the room and lit up. She made her way over to you, shedding her coat and putting neatly on the back of her chair before sitting down.

Once again, you were forcefully reminded of how beautiful your name sounded when she said it.

"Hello," she smiled.

"Hello," you echoed hesitantly.

"I'm sorry," she started.

"I know."

"Rindy is with Bucky now."

"I'm sorry," you said genuinely. You imagined how hard that must be on her.

"I get visits. It's for the best," she smiled sadly. "It's settled. So, I have an apartment in the city now," she said. You had nothing to answer now. "Although it is quite too big for only me, I've discovered. I was wondering if you were in search of a new place, or a roommate, but that's…" she chuckled, "I'm guessing you aren't."

You opened your mouth to talk but had nothing to say. Because of course your first instinct was to say yes, always yes when she was the one asking. You've learned to say no to other people, but not to her. You didn't think you were capable of it.

But you shouldn't say yes. Because that would be selfish. So you didn't say anything.

"I love you," she whispered.

And oh, every time she says your name you think it's the most beautiful one, but this is surely it.

But still, wouldn't it be selfish to say it back? Wouldn't it be dangerous to fall so fast with no way back up?

Before you could muster the ability to speak, someone else called your name. Unpleasant and too loud.

"Hey, what's up!" he came up to your table, "Oh, I don't mean to interrupt your diner," he said once he registered Natasha's presence.

"Josh, Natasha Romanoff. Natasha, Josh, a writer for the newspaper I work in," you reluctantly introduced. You watched her as a wistful smile made its way onto her lips. You didn't tell her about the job yet, and she seemed pleased, although not happy.

"Nice to meet you," Josh smiled.

"You too," she nodded her head at him, her smile warm enough now. But it was the artificial warmness of a lamp, dim and incomparable to what it looked like when she was really smiling. A perpetual sunrise.

"Well, I just saw you," Josh turned back to you, "and wondered if you were coming by to Ron's party tonight."

"I am," you nodded. Ron was throwing a birthday party. He was your coworker, it would be rude not to go. Even though you hadn't remembered his party up until right now.

"Well, great! I'm actually going right now, so if you want a ride…"

"Oh, you should get a ride," Natasha said, gathering her gloves and coat.

"Great! I'll bring the car around, so go outside in a few minutes," Josh smiled.

"I'm meeting up with some friends at Viognier later anyway," Natasha explained. "If you get bored of your party, come by. I think you'd like them," she smiled sadly, before getting up and leaving.

And then it was all moving very fast, and you were getting in Josh's car, and going to the party, and wishing Ron a happy birthday, and being numb, so very numb. Like you felt the first time she left. Like life itself became dull, void of color.

The party started picking up, and there were quite a lot of people there, but it didn't matter, all you knew was that you were alone in a crowd once more. And now that you knew the alternative, you couldn't bear it.

You slipped away from the party and took a cab to Viognier.

"Hello," the host greeted you, "Do you have a reservation?"

"No, I- I'm looking for someone," you pushed past him, frantically walking into the restaurant, looking around, and then finally locating her, sitting at a far-off table, slowly making your way towards it.

And finally, it all clicked.

As you saw her, before she noticed you, she was glowing in the dim restaurant light, just like she was that first lunch you had together, and every day you have known her since. And when she did notice you, and your eyes met from across the room, her shine brightened, her smile warm like the sun.

And that's when you knew. You were flung out of space. You didn't belong here on earth, never did. Except when you were in her arms, except when you were with her. Your very own sun, your very own north star. Then, you belonged. You belonged to her, and she to you.

You could never give that up, no matter what either of you had thought.

"Hello," she greeted once you came to the table.

"Hi," you replied bashfully.

And you knew, with absolute certainty, that she could read you like an open book, knew the yes in your eyes, knew what you were really saying when you asked, "may I join you?"

I love you too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

well, again, if you’ve stuck with this till the end - ily. i seemingly can’t write anything short these days lmao, it’s taking me time i don’t have off of studying:,) lol, but it’s worth it. i’ve wanted to write this fic since i’ve first watched the movie last year, so please, feel free to tell me your thoughts!! take care<3

Taglist: @horny-nd-bored @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds @wintersoldierslut @iceebabies @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree @kaitcordx25 @bequeening @steve-barry-damon-logan @itscrazycherryblossomcollection @hollandxmarvel @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000 @anobscurename @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @peggycarter-steverogers @evansphnx12 @starlightcrystalline @procrastinatingsapphictrash @imvivian @sleutherclaw @farzanam2004 @yeeterthekeeper @justile

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#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x female!reader #natasha romanoff x female #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff angst #carol movie

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after-witch · 3 years

Text

Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Title: Hook Line and Sinker [Yandere Ransom Drysdale x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve broken up with Ransom Drysdale, and you mean it this time. But the freedom that comes with the breakup leads to a series of unexpected coincidences that leave you wondering: was it worth the price?

Word Count: 8955

notes: yandere, mentions of physical abuse, financial abuse, comfort sweaters

Nothing lasts forever. Not even relationships--and certainly not love. What might start off as an intense, passionate relationship can (and did, in your case) eventually fizzle; things that you were willing to overlook when you were absolutely besotted would wear down with time, and eventually they became too much to ignore.

That’s what you tell yourself, what you remind yourself, in the moment after you tell him:

“It’s over, Ransom. We’re done. I’m leaving.”

It couldn’t last forever. Not with his inability to stay sober, not with his tendency to cheat on you with meaningless flings that somehow hurt more than any steamy single-minded affair. Not with his flare-ups of controlling tendencies that left you in tears on the bathroom floor as he asked you to please stop dressing like a slut in front of his family, is that too hard to ask?

You’d asked him to change. He swore he would; he never did. You forgave him, more than once, more times than you could count. But enough was enough. Maybe he thought you were too weak to leave him, especially three years into your relationship, when your lives were becoming so integrated, pushing you towards a potential permanent future. It was a future that left you feeling numb and anxious. Stuck in a marriage with someone who wanted to stay with you but treated you horribly, all the same. And that wasn’t even getting into the family dynamics that left your head spinning.

He stares at you now, and his mouth opens just a little bit in what you know is going to be a barrage of questions, insults, maybe even threats spurred on by your words. But instead he closes his mouth and shakes his head, letting out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“Well, damn. This sucks.” You can see the indent of his tongue in his cheek before he clicks and shrugs. “Guess that’s it then. Need help packing your shit or what?”

His response is so blasé that you’re genuinely shocked and, you must admit, a little hurt. He didn’t even ask for a second chance or beg you to stay or argue with you about your terrible timing because our-vacation-to-Hawaii-is-coming-up. So it’s your turn to look surprised, and you shake your head.

“No, I… already took care of it. It’s at a storage locker.” You didn’t have family left, and your close friends had pulled away from you one by one once you stayed with Ransom time and time again--so you’d had to pay movers to help you pack and transport everything to storage over the weekend, while Ransom was away and you were free to make a clean breakup.

He nods, sticks his hand inside his jacket pockets. He’s looking around the room, avoiding direct eye contact in a clear show of his discomfort. It’s weird seeing Ransom like this--the normally self-assured, cocky Ransom, looking for any excuse not to look at you.

“So… see ya around?” His tone is sincere, if still confused. The idea of you leaving must have really never crossed his mind. The look on his face when he finally faces you again appears genuinely puzzled.

He sticks out his hand and it feels almost comical for things to end this way, particularly considering the nights you’d spent imagining some big blow up, some big fight with Ransom screaming and you firing off the many reasons why it had to end no matter what he said.

But it didn’t go the way you expected at all. It was calm. Easy. A clean break-up.

So you shake his hand and grab your purse and the small roller-suitcase and give a half-hearted wave as you walk out the door; the taxi you’d hired to pick you up is waiting, car running, meter going. You would be staying at a hotel for two weeks, which would hopefully be enough time to find a semi-decent apartment; your credit score had improved so much since Ransom added you to his cards, to a shared checking account, and it wouldn’t be too difficult to get approved.

A new life, one where you could focus on yourself for once, was just around the corner.

"I'm sorry, miss, but it's definitely not the reader. The card is declined."

You've had this nightmare before. No, you've lived this nightmare before--years ago when your credit was shit and you ran up your cards and had to face the music in a publicly humiliating display with the longest checkout line you'd ever seen behind you. Only that was years ago, in a little grocery store, and since getting together with Ransom you never had to worry about problems like this. You never had to worry about the shame of not having enough, not being enough.

But this? This was happening now. In an upscale hotel. With your nice purse (a Christmas present) and designer clothes (casual, comfortable) and your cheeks flushed undeniably warm.

The hotel clerk has a tight, sympathetic smile on her face. A coworker who walks behind her glances at you, judging, and you just know he's going to head into some break room and tell everyone but yet another piece of discarded army candy with a declined credit card. You wish you'd kept your sunglasses on.

"Did it, um, say why? I don't--" you plaster a smile on your face, hating the way this all feels familiar, like a part of your past coming back to haunt you. "I don't understand, the card is good."

The clerk's smile flickers, just a bit.

"It says there's a fraud alert on this card. Perhaps you'd better call the company. Or would you like me to call them?"

Fucking. Ransom.

"Oh, oh no, don’t worry about it. I’ll call them myself. I'm so sorry about this." You turn away from the clerk as quickly as possible and step away from the counter, away from the person waiting behind you who will surely have no trouble with their card, away from the clerks giving you a passive side-eye. You lean against a cool cement pillar in the lobby and you know what you have to do.

You have to call Ransom.

You haven't deleted his number yet--you'd planned on calling him today or tomorrow to figure out how to split up your shared finances--so it's easy enough to find the number. It's not so easy to tap his contact, but you have to, so you force yourself to do it and stare at his photo as the call rings. And rings. And rings. “Hello?” Your breath catches but in an instant, when the message continues, you feel stupid. It’s his voicemail. Fuck.

You text him, instead. Emergency. Call right away. And of course: He leaves you on read. Fuck.

You call him again. And again. He picks up on the sixth call, but your heart is racing too hard and sweat is beading down your forehead and it takes you a moment to confirm that the "Hello?" wasn't part of the voicemail message this time. Fuck.

"Um. Hey," you say, keeping your voice as un-royally-pissed-off as possible, because if he did put in a fraud alert then you don't want to risk any additional asshole moves. "So there's something wrong with the card? The one that ends in 8921? The hotel said there was a fraud alert and--"

"Did you really think I'm going to keep paying for your shit if we're over?"

His voice is quick, biting--exactly what you'd expected from him earlier. Somehow it stings even harsher over the phone, where you feel more helpless, unable to avoid his words.

"I thought..." you wet your lips, trying to maintain your cool. "Look, my name is on them, so I thought send you my part of the payments until I can get cards in my own name."

He chuckles, low and short. "Yeah? What, you want to create a payment schedule or something?"

You fight back the annoyance in your tone. You hate having to be the bigger person, but your finances--your life--is on the line. "Yeah, actually, that'd be perfect. It wouldn't be for long. You know I'll pay them on time, I'm not looking to screw you over."

"You're going too pay me on time? For all the stuff you've bought, the stuff I’ve bought for you, this hotel room and god knows what else? How are you going to afford all that?"

He knows you recently earned a promotion at your work. He knows this, because you were so excited about it, and his half-assed congratulations over lukewarm leftovers left you feeling bitter and sad and useless. So you can't help it when bitterness seeps into your voice with your answer. "You know I just got a promotion."

"Did you?" It's said in such a casual tone that it gives you pause, but a moment later he simply hangs up on you.

Fucking. Ransom.

You shove your phone back into your purse, and the clerks at the counter are staring at you. Sweat has trickled down your back and your shirt sticks to your skin ever-so-slightly as you pull away from the pillar and approach the counter, awkward smile and cheeks hot.

"There is an issue with the card, they're working on it, so I’ll just call for a new reservation when it's fixed. I'm so sorry for the mix up!" Your voice is so peppy and high-pitched and fake and you feel like you’re back at your old job, feet aching with falling apart shoes, forced to deal with people returning old toasters laden with crumbs, calming they’d “just bought it the day before and it didn’t work.”

"Of course," the clerk says, and you know this is hotel clerk code for "You're a shitty liar."

You roll your suitcase out of the lobby with tears in your eyes and you shove your sunglasses on as soon as you've cleared the building. You feel exhausted, drained--so you use what little energy you have left to start googling for cheap motels.

The room smells musty. You pin the plastic sheet you’d snagged at a dollar store over the comforter and pray it will be enough to protect you from whatever is on the likely unwashed fabric. The TV is broken, there’s no WIFi, and there’s a few suspicious stains on the floor that make you wonder if this hotel has ever been featured in a porno, true crime show, or both.

But it’s all you could afford with the cash in your wallet. You only had enough cash on hand for 2 nights at a ragtag hotel that offers nightly and hourly rates. You didn’t dare use your debit card or any credit cards with Ransom’s name or information on them.

You just need some sleep. A good night’s sleep to feel renewed and ready to tackle retaking your life, bit by bit. In the morning, you need to go to the bank and withdraw your money from the joint bank account. Then you can reopen an account in your name, get a new debit card, and apply for a few credit cards afterwards.

Sure, it would have been nicer to do this without Ransom being an asshole. But deep down, you suspected he wouldn’t let you have a clean, lets-still-be-friends type of break. Not after all the times he’d pressured you into staying, manipulating you with words and gifts and promises, promises. Promises that were worth shit.

The sheet crinkles underneath you as you scroll through your messages. You’d texted a few formerly close friends about the breakup earlier, hoping that they’d maybe want to reconnect. So far, you’d been left on read, blocked, and received only one response: “New number, who is this?”

So much for that. Not that you can blame them. There are only so many times they can rush over for a late night intervention in which you tell them every horrible thing Ransom does (he’s controlling, he doesn’t want me to meet with friends without permission, he tells me what I can and can’t wear, he cheats, he lies, he pushed me--)--before they get tired of you returning to him, again and again and again.

The only one who’d been texting you recently--okay, for the past year--had been Ransom. Mostly dick pics. And demands for you to send him something back, which you always did after a while, because you didn’t want to deal annoyed texts or voice messages accusing you of clearly cheating on him or hating him because why else wouldn’t you be willing to send him so much as a sexy selfie to your boyfriend?

But in between those, there were conversations. Sometimes sweet ones, sometimes thoughtful ones that always made you remember why you fell hard for him in the first place. Late night conversations from when he was off on trips. You try not to wonder if he was fucking someone on each of these trips, if while you were sending him a late night ramble about a TV show and he was humoring you with jokes and quips, he was actually snuggled up with someone else. Laying in bed, naked, laughing at your dumb ass waiting at home.

The not-so-sweet conversations were ones that you had screenshotted and sent to your friends more than once, before they pulled themselves away. Texts asking where you were. Asking who you ate lunch with, and whether or not you were fucking them. Asking why your new office was connected to a certain co-worker’s, and how many blowjobs you had to give to get said new office because you didn’t tell him about the new office until after you were moved in, so you were clearly hiding him. Asking you to send him outfit pics so he could approve them or make you change if they were too slutty or not slutty enough or if you were only clearly wearing that halter dress to try to get with the bartender.

Yet your mind had always returned to the nice Ransom, the Ransom who made you laugh and squeezed you hard when had a shitty day of work and let you bury your face in his sweater as you snuggled on the couch. Maybe that’s why it took so long to leave. You were waiting for him to stop being Ransom and start being the fantasy of Ransom you’d conjured in your head.

Your eyes feel heavy so you plug in your phone, turn the sound off, and lay down on the uncomfortable plastic sheet that crinkled over the pillows. It feels strange to lay on a lumpy mattress covered in plastic, after years of custom-made beds and memory foam pillows and all the other luxuries that Ransom was able to provide.

You try not to think about it too much. While you won’t exactly be indulging in all the luxuries you had with Ransom, but your job pays you well, and you won’t ever have to go back to living hand-to-mouth like you did before. You won’t have to worry about late bills and debt collectors and landlords who come late at night and demand inspections while you’re in your pajamas.

You have work in the morning. You have to get to the bank in the morning. Your thoughts are still buzzing with anxiety as you fall into an uneasy slumber.

“I’m sorry, but the account has been closed.”

You feel years of customer service training cracking underneath your skin. You can’t freak out. If you freak out, they won’t feel inclined to go the extra mile. You know this, from firsthand experience.

So you take a shaky breath. “Um, this just--it isn’t possible. It’s a joint account. I’m on the account. There was money in there, you can check--”

“I’m sorry, but the funds were transferred and account has been closed by the other account holder. There’s nothing I can do. I suggest contacting the other party in the account.”

You swallow and nod and walk away, this time having been smart enough to keep your sunglasses on to hide your humiliated expression. Why didn’t you insist on having your own account? Ransom said it was better to keep it joint, so you could just buy stuff whenever you wanted. You’d agreed because it was so generous, something you’d never thought possible at the time, when you were used to having to pay overdraft fees and cringing whenever you checked your balance.

Your fingers tremble as you bring up his contact on your phone. You tap. No answer.

You don’t have time to call him two, three, ten times--you have to get to work. So you steady your nerves. You breathe in, you breathe out. You get in your car and plug your phone in and decide to contact your lawyer. Fuck--your lawyer was Ransom's lawyer. But the anxiety eases when you remember that you’d paid him a retainer fee months ago, and Ransom couldn’t do anything about that. You could at least get a basic consult out of the retainer.

The call ringing sounds muffled through your car’s speaker but it isn’t long before someone answers, and you’re transferred to the lawyer Ransom insisted you have--gotta have a lawyer when you have money, babe--and that you hadn’t spoken to in ages.

“Hi,” you say, voice artificially bright, “this is--”

You don’t get a chance to finish.

“I know who this is.” The lawyer sounds tired, and his tone is curt and clipped. “I’m sorry. I’m no longer able to provide you with any legal counsel.”

You almost miss a red light and regret calling the office while you were driving.

“Is this about the debit card? Because I paid the retainer months ago--”

“The retainer has been refunded into the connected checking account.”

Your voice looses its artificial cheeriness and you stumble over your words in frustration. “That’s--it’s--it was a joint account, which is why I called, Ransom drained it and took everything. Isn’t there something we can do, because that was my money too and--”

“I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel.”

You want to cry. You hate crying, as an adult. It makes you feel weak. Especially on the phone.

“I don’t understand. Why was the retainer refunded? Did--did someone call you?”

He clears his throat into the phone. “I am no longer able to provide you with legal counsel. Goodbye.”

He hangs up. Your hands shake.

You pull into the parking lot of your work and park the car and as soon as you do, you hunch yourself over the steering wheel and simply shake in frustration.

You have no bank account. Ransom drained it. You have no credit cards. Ransom blocked them. You couldn’t even talk to a lawyer, because--shock--Ransom made sure you couldn’t. Everything was in Ransom’s name. He insisted on adding you to his accounts, closing out your own paltry ones; insisted that he pay off your credit card debt, and making you close those, too, instead adding you to his cards. It was all to help you out, he said, at the time.

Wasn’t it? He was shockingly not judgmental about the state of your finances, and while you’d put up some protest, you didn’t exactly argue with him when he suggested wiping your debts clean and getting your credit back up. And considering that he wasn’t immune to needing a bail-out now and then (late night calls to his grandfather, snarky comments at his parent’s dinner table, come to mind) maybe he could sympathize with being in over your head. Even if your issues were rooted in poverty and shitty jobs and his were rooted in a total lack of financial discipline and, as you’d later found out, a drug addiction.

Still. He helped you before. He would help you now, once he realized how serious it was. For now he was just--reacting like an asshole, acting childish and ridiculous. He was an asshole. You know this. You’ve known this. You need to call him and meet with him and make him realize how ridiculous he’s being, and he’ll sigh and snark but he’ll agree to stop acting like such an ass.

But first you have to work. Life goes on. Even without Ransom--even with Ransom, screwing you over out of pettiness.

The air conditioning in the lobby is on blast, and the familiar smell of clean furniture and floor cleaner from the late-night cleaning crew is surprisingly comforting. Here, you can forget about Ransom--forget about the cards and the lawyer and the fact that your life has been upended in mere hours. If only until your lunch break, at least.

Anthony is working the front desk and you give him a a soft, if strained smile. There’s something in the smile that he gives you in return that reminds you of the hotel clerk. Sympathetic and judgmental.

Ah. You probably look like--well, less than your best, you realize. You did pack some toiletries in your suitcase but the water in the motel had streaks of brown and you didn’t shower, opting instead to rinse your face with what was left of a water bottle you’d bought earlier and layering on more deodorant to make up for the lack of a proper scrub. You probably looked a bit tired, haggard, not unlike some of the employees who got stuck with big clients the night before their paperwork was due.

Still. Nothing that freshening up in your private bathroom--thank god for the new office--can’t help. So you hit the button on the elevator and take deep breaths as you ride up, intent on working as productively as possible. The doors open and you navigate the familiar maze of open-plan desks for the lower-tier workers, desks surrounded by half-walls that always kept you staring straight ahead, lest you accidentally glance over and see a co-worker picking their nose.

Yet as you weave in-and-out of the familiar rows, heading towards the back of the room where the real offices, the ones with full walls and doors and privacy glass lay, you can’t help but feel that something is… off.

No one calls out to greet you, though that can be easily attributed to the jealousy over your promotion. You’d been working there for far less than most of the lower level workers--Ransom got you the job, with his connections and a hefty revision of your resume and, you assume, some personal phone calls--and you’d already been promoted to senior management. That wasn’t technically Ransom’s work, though. That was all your own effort, your own blood, sweat, tears and intense devotion to each project that came your way. Sure, the connections he helped you make, the dinner parties, all that helped--but if it weren’t for your skills, the connections wouldn’t have made a difference. Right?

Still, whatever bitterness existed in the people hunch in open-air cubicles, the receptionists always greeted you. But today they caught your eye then awkwardly glanced down, or pretended to be looking for something in their drawers. It was odd. Did you look that bad? That out of sorts?

You shake off the heavy feeling in your stomach and for once, you shut the door to your office instead of keeping it open for passers-by or people needing approval for this-and-that. It feels good to lean against the solid wood door and take a breath, a deep one, invigorating and calming.

A quick trip to the bathroom has you staring at yourself from all angles. You don’t look that bad, you reason. Just tired. But who wouldn’t be, sleeping on a plastic sheet in the shittiest motel in the area? You take a quick sniff under your arms but even that reveals nothing much but a faint hint of sweat and powdery deodorant.

There’s a firm knock at your office door and you glance at the mirror for a final once over before opening it up. It’s your boss. Did you have a meeting? You try to do a mental scan of something you’ve missed, but nothing comes to mind.

“Hi,” you say, wavering with uncertainty at the threshold. Should you invite him in? “What can I do for you? We didn’t have a meeting, did we?” You let yourself chuckle, dry and quick. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit scattered this morning.”

Your boss doesn’t return your chuckle, which immediately raises the hairs on the back of your neck. Something was wrong. Shit--you were working on a major project for a seriously important client. The type of client that could genuinely make or break a company, if you got on their bad side. You press your lips together and make a silent vow to keep it serious.

“I’d like to keep this conversation private.” His tone is low and serious and you invite him in without a second thought, shutting the thick door behind you, trying to ignore the way everyone was shooting glances as it closed. Fuck, fuck, fuck, your thoughts race--no wonder everyone was giving you the stink eye. Something was wrong with the client, and you were the one making primary contact with them.

Your boss takes a seat on the leather sofa pushed up against the wall and you immediately set yourself down behind your desk.

He sighs. Short. Frustrated. Annoyed.

“We have to let you go.”

The words don’t register.

“Go where?”

It’s only after you say it that you realize what he said, what it meant, and you feel like a colossal moron in every respect.

“It’s not working out,” he continues, staring at your desk and not at your face. “Since you’ve only been in this position for a month, you don’t quality for senior severance. The best we can do is to pay you what you’ve earned this week.”

Your mouth is so dry that you don’t know if you can talk. Your hand fumbles on your desk for a water bottle you’d left overnight, and that’s when you see it--the photo frame. You keep a photo of yourself and Ransom, cuddled together for a selfie, on your desk. The photo was lying on your desk, frameless, ripped in half--leaving only your vacantly smiling face staring up at you.

Ransom was here.

“Did he put you up to this?” You whisper. “Did Ransom tell you to fire me?”

You know he won’t answer. But you stare at him so fervently that he can’t help but look up at you, and you see it all in his eyes, in the subtle, embarrassed expression of his face.

You can imagine Ransom strolling in--maybe he called first--and settling in for a private audience with your boss in his office. He’d probably pull the chair up to the desk and put his feet on it, just to be an ass. Then he’d bring up… you. And why you had to be let go. Did he give a reason, did he tell your boss why a respected employee who he once secured a position for, who shot up the ranks through intense effort and work, needed to be fired? Did he even need to give a reason?

“This is absolute bullshit,” you say, finally, voice dry and hoarse and bitter. You want to say you’ll be contacting a lawyer. That this won’t stand. But you know--and he knows--that there’s nothing you can do.

Your boss stands, slow, and sighs again. “I’m sorry it had to end this way. Pack up your things as quickly as possible.”

He leaves, and you keep your eyes trained on the ripped photograph to avoid seeing the expressions of the people in the doorway before your boss mercifully shuts the door.

It takes all of your effort not to cry.

You don’t have much effort left.

Your things consisted of a handful of personal items, little touches you’d brought in to make your office feel more like “you.” A nice picture print. A pastel afghan to drape over the couch. A stapler with a floral design. You have the strong urge to dump them in a trash can, but that’s quickly quelled by the realization that you can’t afford to buy new things, or any things, at this point.

You don’t care if wearing your sunglasses as you power walk to the elevators makes you look stupid. You know someone, somewhere in this office is filming you and probably captioning it with something stupid to post to their Reels or TikTok, and it just makes you leave faster. A few people murmur comments your way, sympathetic in tone, but you’re not really listening. None of their platitudes matter, because Ransom was here, in your workplace, in your office, and he stole the thing you were most proud of from under your feet.

To his credit, when you reach the bottom floor, Anthony practically fumbles out from behind his desk and holds the door open for you. He mouths a “Sorry” and he probably is, but he’s probably used to dealing with rich assholes like Ransom who get what they want, when they want it; even when what they want is to fire a good employee on demand for very personal reasons.

The sun is beating down hard, even for the morning, and the stress of your situation makes you blast the air conditioning as soon as you get in the car. God, the car--how are you going to afford the payments? You wish you could call your mom. You wish your friends--are they even your friends, anymore?--would call you back.

You grab your phone from your purse and stare at the black screen. Maybe you should call the friend who didn’t block you. She would answer, if you called, because she knew you didn’t make calls unless it was serious. She might not rush to your side, but maybe she can offer you a place to stay, a couch, some advice. A kind word would do, right now, with how much anxiety and frustration has been packed into the last 12 hours.

But when you unlock your screen, your gut sinks. Five missed calls. From the storage company. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You tap their number and bring the phone to your ear and pretend that your hands aren’t shaking.

The man who answers is the same one you talked to on the phone before, when setting up your move. “Hello, Move’nSecure Storage Company. This is Steve speaking. How many I help you?”

“Hi Steve!” You hate how chipper you sound. “I actually just got a few missed calls from you guys, I’m sorry, I was in the office and--”

“Oh.” His voice is surprisingly flat, suddenly flat, losing its customer service inflection in an instant before picking it back up. “Yes. We’ve been trying to reach you. For confirmation, the storage locker your purchased is A443, correct?”

You fumble in your purse for the receipt and confirm the little numbers printed neatly on the paper. “Yes, A443. Is everything okay?”

“No, it’s not.” You’re grateful that you didn’t have much for breakfast because you know it would be clawing its way back up at this point. “The card you gave us for the storage fee was declined.”

The debit card. You’d paid in cash for the move, and paid for 1 month of storage with the card. The card that was now useless, connected to an empty and closed bank account.

“Is there another card you can give us?”

“No, but...” You say, because no, there is not. There is not a card. There is not a job. There is nothing. “But if you could just hold my stuff, I’ll be there in less than a hour to get it.”

“We don’t hold items,” Steve tells you, a rehearsed banality to his tone. “Your items are currently outside the unit.”

You instinctively want to yell at Steve but, fuck fuck fuck, you’ve been there, behind the counter, dealing with people who couldn’t pay for shit and then had the nerve to get upset with you. “All of it?” You ask, your voice cracking slightly.

“Yes.”

You hang up, and toss your phone onto the passenger seat. The quicker you get there, the less chance that something will get broken or stolen or who knows what else.

The trip to the storage unit seems to take forever, and when you arrive you don’t even take a second to lock your car doors. Instead you sprint inside, startling Steve--looking at his phone, then at you, then at the sign plastered up on the wall leading to the storage locker floors. He points. Row A, separated into 100s, 200s, 300s, and--your number--400s.

You don’t remember if you say ‘thank you,’ because you’re speed-walking down the hallway and following the signs and it isn’t long before you see it: a storage locker with tons of stuff piled up, dumped, outside the now-empty unit where it was supposed to be safe and sound. Waiting for you to get an apartment and pick it back up and rearrange it into your new life, your new “you.”

The problem is immediate: You can’t fit all this in your car. You don’t know anyone who could take the stuff for you. You mind reels for options and the only thing you can come up with is ferrying your belongings to and from the hotel. You can pay for a few more days once you cash your partial paycheck. After that… you don’t know.

Pawn your things? Yeah. That might work. You can get enough cash by pawning most of your stuff, the good stuff. Enough money to get you into a shitty apartment with leaks and a bad landlord. Then you can a job that barely pays rent and you’ll be right back where you started, before you met Ransom. Before you thought leaking ceilings and $20 paychecks after taxes were a thing of the past.

You ignore the humiliation that makes your stomach curl as you take your things out to the car, handful by handful. Steve doesn’t bother holding the door open for you. You mention that you’re going to be back on your way out, and he offers a non-committal hum.

At least when you get to the hotel, the owner sees you fumbling with boxes and offers to help you out. It takes less time with two hands to get everything in the room, and once it’s locked up you head back out to the storage units.

You keep your sunglasses on for the second trip into the storage unit, even though you don’t know Steve or care what he thinks. He doesn’t look up when you walk in and it’s just as well, since you’re only heading back to the A-400s and don’t need his non-existent help.

But the sight that greets you when you round the corner to your unpaid-for storage locker makes your blood run cold.

Your stuff is gone. All of it.

You rush back to the desk, where Steve does look up, startled by your urgency.

“My stuff,” you spit out, “My stuff is gone! Someone took it!”

Steve shrugs. “Sorry.” He points to a sign behind him: “We are not responsible for the loss of items inside or outside storage lockers.”

“Are you fucking kidding?” You can’t the anger in your voice this time. “You just watched someone walk off with my stuff and didn’t say anything?”

Steve raises his eyebrows. “If it was that important, you shouldn’t have left it here. Or you should have given us another card.”

You feel like throwing your hands up but you just clench your fist and storm out the door, huffing as you reach your car. The anger melts into the sense of loss, the realization that you only have a few meager items that you’d managed to collect; you picked the lightest stuff, first. And in retrospect it was things that didn’t matter much at all. Clothes. Hair supplies. Makeup. You should have grabbed the box with your USB sticks, your memory cards, your photo albums; your personal mementos and sentimental shit. Instead you grabbed the box with your shampoo.

At least the clothes might get something in a pawnshop. The makeup, too, on Facebook or Depop or Instagram. But it wouldn’t be enough to put you up in an apartment. You’ll have to live in your car. Until they repossess it for lack of payment.

You don’t have your bank account, your credit cards, your job, a place to stay, or your personal possessions. And soon, you won’t have your car.

You have no friends. No boyfriend. No family.

All you have $20 left in your wallet and well, fuck it. You grab some McDonalds on the way home because, fuck it, and eat all the fries before you make it to the motel. The thought of eating in your dirty room makes your stomach turn and you decide to eat everything else you bought, the burger and the shake and the chicken nuggets too, tossing the wrappers on the floor. It feels like deja vu--getting cheap fast food to make you feel full, tossing trash on the floor of the passenger seat, all bringing back the way you used to when you’d grab something from the dollar menu on your way to work at the call center.

You almost wish you could stay at this hotel, brown water and all. The owner is decently nice. He smiles at you when you enter and doesn’t bring up that you didn’t come back with more boxes, like you said you would.

You’re surprised at how grateful you feel for the dingy hotel room now that you won’t be able to stay here more than another day. Now that the alternative is sleeping in your car, then sleeping on the street, if you were lucky.

Your phone feels heavy when you set it on the table and stare at the home screen. Another photo of you and Ransom stares back up at you. You haven’t had time to change it up yet. He’s grinning. You’re smiling. It’s a good photo. You try to place it in your memory, try to remember what beach that was, but your trips blur together and you can’t.

Should you call him? If it was just the cards, just him being petty over credit and finances, it was one thing. You could try to placate him with returning gifts, just asking him to give you what you put in from your own paychecks. But making you lose your job? It was too far, too fucking far. And there was no going back from that. Fuck, someone was probably moving into your office as you sat in this dimly lit room mourning the loss of your entire life.

For a brief, very fleeting moment, you consider calling Harlan. You weren’t exceptionally close, but he seemed to like you well enough. He’d even asked you once, puling you aside at a tension-filled family party, if Ransom treated you right, told you to tell him if he ever got to be too much. Harlan felt like Ransom’s keeper--in more ways than one. You could never tell Harlan about the shouts or the occasional bruises from when Ransom really, really lost his temper--it’s not like you could prove them, anyway, as Ransom made sure to keep you away from his family when he lost control like that. No need for excuses about running into doors when he made sure you looked your best at family functions.

But the thought of breaking the uneasy stasis that Ransom had with the most significant member of his family made you want to vomit. There would be no coming back from that, and you knew better than to cross any line involving the great Harlan Thrombey.

You could call your friend--ex-friend? The one who didn’t block you or forget your number. You should. No, you will. Because what else do you have to lose.

But before you can bring up her number, you get a text--Ransom. It’s a photo and your curiosity gets the better of you as you click the notification.

“What the fuck?”

He’s sent you a photo of his car, trunk open. It’s filled with boxes, odds-and-ends. It’s filled with your stuff.

You text him: What??

He texts back: Hey. I’m in front of the hotel. Come out? Bring your suitcase. :P

It’s your stuff. It’s his car. He’s here. All reason is thrown aside as you grab your suitcase and purse and rush down the hallway, ignoring the owner’s confused response from behind his desk as you push open the front doors and look around the parking lot.

His car is parked to the side, not in front of the hotel’s glass double doors. He’s standing outside his car, leaning against it. He takes off his sunglasses and tucks them in his pocket when he sees you approaching, face confused and fuming all at once.

“What the fuck, Ransom, what the fuck is your problem--”

“Hey, hey,” he says, hands up in defense, “You’re not even going to thank me for picking up your stuff?”

You feel suddenly, impossibly rooted to the spot.

“What do you--what? You took my stuff?”

He shrugs. “C’mon, did you really think I’d just leave your stuff in some shitty storage unit? Someone would’ve taken it if I didn’t get there first.”

You swallow. “Why?” You ask, because Ransom never does anything for no reason. Or so you’ve learned.

His expression loses a bit of its cocky casualness. He tilts his head a bit, looking at you as if you’ve asked a particularly offensive question.

“Why do you think?”

To lord it over you? To make you think your stuff was gone and make you worried, sick, crazy?

“I don’t know,” is what you settle for in the end. “I really, really don’t. You--” You lick your lips, and try to calm down, calm the pitter-patter of your heart, and think before you speak. “You’ve done some pretty messed up stuff today. My job?” The last question comes out soft and pained, and you know your eyes are starting to tear up.

“Hey.” His voice is soft and placating and it makes your stomach flip as he approaches you, standing there on the sidewalk with your purse and suitcase. “Hey, c’mon. Don’t cry on me.”

You know this Ransom. The Ransom that holds you and pets your hair and offers to get Thai food delivered even though he doesn’t like it just to make you happy.

He puts his hand on your shoulder and you jerk it away. “Don’t.” That Ransom is a fantasy. Or an incomplete version, the version that pretends he doesn’t lie and cheat and hurt you in more ways than one. “Don’t you fucking dare, especially not after what you pulled today. My job? My job, Ransom? You’re a--a fucking asshole.”

He puts his hands up again, defensive, and takes a step back. But he doesn’t return to his car, and stays just a few steps in front of you.

“Look. Call me an asshole. Sure, fine, I can admit that. But do you know what else I am?”

He waits a beat, waits for you to look at him, before he continues. “I’m a realist. I like facts. And the fact is? You aren’t much without me. No job, no credit cards, no bank account. Without me, you’re just some broke chick scrambling to get an apartment in the shittiest part of town, working a dead-end job that don’t pay shit. With me though…. “

He leaves the words unfinished, but you know what he means. Flashes of your life, cocktails and smart business outfits and dinners at restaurants you didn’t even dream about attending before you met him. Phone calls with shakers in the industry and social media requests from people you’d never dream you’d meet. Connections that meant something, a career path, dinner parties with people who could offer tangible benefits to your career and your life.

It wasn’t that he spoiled you. He wasn’t a sugar daddy. You weren’t getting gifts for blowjobs. It was that his presence in your life boosted you, socially, financially, mentally, physically, in every which way possible.

His presence got you a job that you loved, which meant you weren’t burnt out when you came home, which meant that you had the time and energy to spend hours catching up on books or redecorating the house or watching movies. Good money meant you could order in whenever you felt like it, meant you didn’t have to worry if you burned dinner because you could just buy new steaks or order-in or go out, last minute, and still get a great table. It meant you had all the clothes you wanted, stylish and personally tailored; it meant you had easy access to a gym and exercise equipment and an indoor pool to keep you healthy. It meant you had a life that provided comfort in every way possible.

Being with Ransom Drysdale was like… like a little shot of privilege directly into your arm.

Privilege that he took away just as easily as he gave it. Just as easily as you took it. Just as easily as you took it and eagerly ignored the dark side underneath. Or maybe you didn’t ignore it. Maybe you liked it, maybe it reminded you of who you were underneath the designer clothes and expensive dinners.

Maybe you wanted to fix him, like he fixed you? He wasn’t totally bad, after all, he did make sure no one took your belongings. Maybe it was your presence that gave him the idea for that touch of sympathy, maybe with Ransom change was slow and muddled, not picture-perfect sweeping changes like the kind in movies.

“So?” Ransom’s voice cuts through your thoughts. “Are you going to come home or,” he waves his hands around dismissively, at the hotel, at you.

You feel very, very less-than right now. You look awful, your hair mussy and your makeup mostly melted off with sweat and sun. You probably smell more than you normally do, thanks to the lack of a shower. Your muscles, sore from the motel bed, ache for the large spa bathtub that Ransom had installed in the master bathroom just for you, stocked with bubbles and salts and overpriced bath bombs that were $10 a pop.

But your muscles had hurt before, when he pushed you against the dresser.

You have nothing, and no one. Except Ransom. Ransom who didn’t judge you when you instinctively saved plastic bottles and boxes, but merely nudged you towards recycling and took you out to splurge on a reusable water bottle and proper storage containers the next day. Ransom who asked you what sort of job you wanted, really wanted, and made it happen for you. Ransom who shrugged and wiped away your credit card debt without making you feel like shit.

Ransom who didn’t let you leave the house if your wrists were sporting fingerprint shaped bruises. Ransom who argued with you about talking to men, even men at work. Ransom who held you tight at night and said he never wanted to let you go, and wouldn’t you just make a fine-ass addition his crazy family. Ransom who took care of you, now that you had no one else.

“What do you want me to do?” The words feel slow, sluggish. Like they wanted to stick to the roof of your mouth and it took everything in you to get them out.

His voice turns low and serious as he stares at you with an characteristic expression. “Well, the first thing is to get down on your knees…”

You feel your eyes practically bugging out.

“What the fuck, Ransom?”

He laughs. He always did have a nice laugh.

“I’m just messing with you, Jesus. Take a chi-I-il pill. Just grab your purse and come sit your sweet ass in the front seat. Let’s go get some burgers, I’m starving.”

Your legs feel like jelly when you take that first step, and the sound of your roller suitcase as you pull it along seems louder than ever. Ransom pops the truck and you just manage to fit it inside with the handle closed, jamming it in between some boxes at an odd angle. The handle of the passenger side is familiar, warm from the sun.

You open the door and practically shove yourself into the seat, closing the door as fast as possible. You can’t do more than glance at him as humiliation and anxiety and just the smallest bit of relief washes over you. It’s been less than 24 hours since you broke up, and here you are--again.

He’s staring at you quietly, his expression difficult to place. He looks relieved. He looks annoyed. He looks like he wants to kiss you. He looks like he wants to slap you. Maybe he wants to do it all at once and can’t decide which to pick.

Instead, he puts his hand on your thigh. Gives it a squeeze. Hard, bordering on painful. He’s staring straight ahead, at the worn-out sign on the hotel’s front door, one hand gripping the flesh of your thigh. He looks good in profile. “Don’t ever try to pull something like that again. I mean it. I really mean it.”

You turn, glance out the window, familiar tears at the edge of your eyes.

“I won’t,” you whisper, dreaming of the tub and bubbles and how good a warm soak will feel on your back, on your thighs, on your soul.

“Good girl,” he says, patting your thigh firmly. He plucks his sunglasses out of pocket and puts them on in a smooth motion. The car starts smoothly, its fine-tuned and expensive engine a familiar sound, and your hands feel robotic as you pull the seatbelt over your chest and click it tight.

“Let’s get dinner and get home. You have some unpacking to do.”

#ransom drysdale x reader #yandere ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale #knives out #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes

547 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

hi eve! what do you think about a video where couples do the chapstick challenge? like jily vs coops and they compete to see what couple guesses more right! idk i think i would be fun

It's been too long since I wrote one of these--I missed them! Coops, Cubs, and SW Jily belong to @lumosinlove <3

“Welcome back, everyone!” Dorcas said with a smile to the camera. “It’s been over a month since our last big video like this due to scheduling, but we hope you’ve been enjoying our more active social media presence in the meantime. I’m here today with James and Lily Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and our lovely Cubs. How were your summers, everyone?”

“Hear that, Cap?” Logan’s grin was smug as the cat that got the canary. “I’m lovely.”

“Our summers were great,” Sirius said, ignoring him. “Lots of vacation time.”

“At our house,” Lily teased.

“Yeah, while you were on vacation. It’s called being a good godfather.”

“I’m glad you all had fun,” Dorcas interjected smoothly as she pulled three bags from under her chair. “Because we’ve got a very special game today. Inside these bags are ten blank chapstick tubes, each with a different flavor. One person from each team will apply the chapstick to their lips, and their partner will first have to kiss them, then guess the flavor. Finn, Leo, and Logan, your team will have two guessers.”

“They get two guesses?” Remus protested. “That’s so unfair!”

Dorcas shrugged. “They have to guess at the same time, and they only get one point per correct answer.”

Finn raised his eyebrows. “Y’know, Loops, you’re starting to sound pretty homophobic over there…”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Remus sighed.

The camera cut; when it returned, Lily, Sirius, and Finn were seated in folding chairs with the bags of chapstick in their laps and a small sticky note in their hands. Across from them, their significant others were sitting with large headphones over their ears.

“Can you hear me?” Dorcas called.

Remus didn’t react at all as he messed with the trailing wire; Logan squinted at her. “Quoi?”

“I can’t hear anything,” James said loudly. “This is super weird. It’s just, like, humming. Honey, it sounds like Harry’s white noise machine!”

Lily smiled reassuringly and patted his hand. “A little quieter, lover.”

“What?”

“A little—nevermind.”

Dorcas’ mouth twitched with a suppressed smile. “Non-guessers, you can find all the flavors written on stickers at the bottom of each tube. Please start with number one on your flavor lists when you’re ready.”

Sirius bit his lip as he riffled through the bag, and Remus leaned forward to give him a light peck at the corner of his mouth. “I haven’t put any on yet!” he laughed.

Remus paused. “What?”

“I haven’t put any chapstick on.”

“Slower, I’m not good at lipreading.”

“Mon dieu,” Sirius muttered with a shake of his head.

Next to him, Finn had already applied his first flavor and was sitting with a happy smile as Leo and Logan thought for a moment. “Is it lime?’ Leo guessed.

“I think it’s lime,” Logan said half a second later. Finn gave them a thumbs-up and the three of them high-fived. “Called it!”

“That’s…lemon? Really sour lemon?” James guessed. Lily shook her head and showed him the tube. “Lime. Shit.”

Remus licked his lips. “Lime?”

Sirius nodded. “Oui!”

“Really? Hell yeah!”

“We’re at a bit of an advantage,” Sirius said as he put the lime in his lap and checked his list. “I wear chapstick all the time.”

“Why?” Dorcas asked, sounding rather amused.

“My lips get dry from being at the rink all day.” Sirius shrugged and put the next one on. A mischievous smile flickered over his mouth and he tilted his chin toward Remus. “He won’t leave me alone, either.”

Remus’ eyebrows pitched and he leaned forward. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“You have to go slower, I really can’t—”

“Green apple!” Logan exclaimed, slapping Finn’s knee in excitement as Dorcas covered her mouth to hide her laughter. “I remembered what it’s called!”

“Correct!” Finn announced.

“I think it’s green apple,” Leo said.

James pulled away and rested his chin on his hand. “Kind of a caramel apple, but without the caramel.” Lily turned to face the camera with a look of disbelief. “So just a normal apple, I guess.”

“Yes!” Lily turned his face toward her with a smile. “You got it!”

“I got it? Woohoo!”

“That’s green apple.” Remus wrinkled his nose. “Tastes like those shitty candy apple lollipops, though. Did I get it?”

Sirius nodded and wiped his lips off. “Number three is pomegranate,” Dorcas announced.

Finn frowned as he dug through his bag. “I don’t—there it is. Wow, this smells really nice.”

Leo paused and smiled before kissing him. “That smells really nice!��

“Does it?” Finn laughed before moving to give Logan a kiss.

“Oh, I like that,” Remus said, kissing Sirius a second time. “No idea what the flavor is, but I like it. Hmm. I have to think about that.”

“Is that frosting?” James asked excitedly as he grabbed Lily’s hands. “Do you have frosting flavored chapstick?”

“No,” she laughed, shaking her head. “What the hell? It’s pomegranate.”

“It’s what?”

“Pomegranate.”

“Persimmon?” She rolled her eyes and showed him the sticker. “Wow, I never would have guessed that.”

“Is it cherry?” Remus guessed. Sirius shook his head and his face fell. “Aw.”

Leo and Logan shared a look as Finn kept his poker face. “I have no idea what that is,” Logan finally said. “It’s sweet, though.”

“Is candy-flavored chapstick a thing?” Leo wondered. Finn held the tube up. “Pomegranates are tart. That wasn’t tart.”

“What the hell is that?” Logan looked to someone off-screen and held one of his headphones away from his ear.

“Une grenade!” someone called.

“Oh! That didn’t taste like it at all.”

All four guessers kissed their partners within a few seconds for the fourth—almost immediately, they pulled away, faces twisting. “Oh my god,” Remus coughed, wiping his lips. “That’s grape. Oh my god.”

James’ nose scrunched. “It’s grape. I don’t like it.”

In a moment of direct action, Leo took the wet wipe Finn had been using and ran it over his mouth while Logan stuck his tongue out. “It’s grape, and it’s gross. No more cough syrup kisses, please.”

“You’re halfway there!” Dorcas called, chalking up their correct guesses on a whiteboard as Lily, Sirius, and Finn applied the fifth flavor.

Sirius held his hand up as Remus started moving in and sneezed. “Desolee. Okay, you can go now.”

Remus kissed him and recoiled in half a second. “More cough syrup? Are you kidding me? It’s not any better when it’s cherry.”

“Dorcas,” Leo whined when he pulled away. “The first ones were such nice flavors!”

“My head hurts just tasting that,” James said miserably. “It’s that awful fake cherry stuff.”

“That’s cherry.” Logan smacked his lips with a grimace. “Eugh.”

Dorcas held up five fingers for them to see as she spoke. “Just five more, and you’re all done. Those are the only bad ones.”

Lily lit up as she applied the sixth and James hurried to kiss her. “Oh, that one is nice! You always wear strawberry. It’s my favorite.”

Remus shrugged. “Kiss was great, flavor’s fine. It’s just fake strawberry, yeah?”

“Whew.” Leo’s eyebrows rose after the kiss. “Very st—”

“Oh, strawberry!” Logan interrupted. “Katie makes me wear something like that when we have tea parties.”

Dorcas added more tallies to her board. “Tremzy, you can’t hear me, but that’s the cutest thing you’ve ever said. We need pictures.”

“I’ll find some,” Finn promised.

Sirius rubbed his lips together and made a face; Remus laughed, running the pad of his thumb along his mouth. “Stop, I can’t kiss you like that! It can’t be that bad.”

“That would give me a headache,” James said, clearly disappointed. “It’s some sort of pineapple monstrosity. Pina colada? I liked the strawberry a lot better.”

“It’s pineapple. Does that count?” Lily asked. Dorcas nodded, and she gave James a high-five.

“That’s not bad,” Leo admitted with a shrug. “Tastes like the dried mango we get at the store, the kind with all the sugar on it.”

“I don’t have the first idea what that is,” Logan said. “Knutty, I’m letting you take the reins here.”

“You’re both wrong,” Finn said, enunciating every word so they could read his lips.

“Baby—” Remus faltered with a laugh and held the wet wipes out of reach as Sirius tried to take them back. “Baby, we don’t get a point if you wipe it off. Just one kiss, okay?”

“Fine,” Sirius grumbled. Remus pressed a sweet kiss to his upper lip and handed him a fresh wet wipe. “Happy now?”

“Oh, I like that,” Remus said. “It’s definitely pineapple. I can see why you hated it so much.”

“Cap, do you not like pineapple?” Dorcas asked. His intense wiping of his lips was the only answer necessary. “We’re in the final three. Sirius, your team is in the lead by one.”

“Come on, hubs,” Lily said as she put the next one on. “This is easy-peasy. We have to beat Cap or we’ll never hear the—”

“Mint!” Leo exclaimed, looking quite proud of himself. “Ooo, it’s like Christmas.”

“I can smell it all the way over here,” Remus laughed, though he didn’t pass up the kiss. “That’s peppermint.”

“It’s like a candy cane,” James said dreamily.

“He’s not going to like this one,” Sirius said as he capped the next chapstick. “I like it, though, and that’s all that matters. Pucker up, Loops.”

“Oh, hell no.” Remus leaned back as Sirius leaned in, keeping his lips out of range. “Nope, not a chance. That’s some plastic vanilla bullshit and I’ll be tasting it all day.”

Dorcas tapped him on the shoulder and he lifted one headphone. “If you don’t taste it, you don’t get a point this round.”

“We can take the hit.”

“What? No!” Sirius protested. “I had to taste the pineapple, remember?”

“I love you and I totally want to win this, but I really, really don’t want that taste in my mouth.”

“Fine,” Sirius sighed, wiping his lips off as Remus readjusted his headphones.

James’ face split into a beaming smile after his kiss. “Birthday cake!”

“No.”

“Shit.”

“Vanilla,” Leo and Logan said in unison.

Finn pumped both fists in the air. “Yes! We’re tied for first!”

Leo gave him a high-five. “I don’t know what you’re saying, but you seem excited about it!”

“Last one,” Dorcas warned. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“You should wear chapstick more often,” James said as Lily lined her lips. “It makes you so soft.”

“He has no idea how greasy my mouth feels right now,” she said fondly with a glance to the camera.

“Tell me about it,” Sirius agreed. “Alright, Loops, don’t pussy out this time.”

Remus narrowed his eyes. “You just told me not to pussy out, didn’t you?”

Sirius blinked at him. “I thought you couldn’t read lips.”

“C’mere.” Remus cupped his jaw in one hand and kissed him, then smiled. “Orange. Did we win?”

“Mmm, that’s what the oranges back home taste like,” Leo said, going in for a second kiss.

Logan licked his lips a couple of times. “Tastes like fancy orange juice. I like it.”

“In a cruel twist of irony, my lips are getting dry,” James said when they parted. Lily raised her eyebrows as he thought. “That’s orange. We won, right?”

“Take off your headphones,” Dorcas said, miming the motion until everyone could hear her before holding her scoreboard up. “Unfortunately, James and Lily are in last place with a score of seven out of ten. Cap and Harzy, your teams are tied for first place with eight out of ten.”

“We could have won if you didn’t have a personal grudge against vanilla,” Sirius said under his breath. Remus threw one of the chapsticks at him and Sirius dropped another down the neck of his shirt.

“Boys.” They both gave Dorcas a sheepish look and she shook her head. “Thankfully, we prepared for this situation with a tiebreaker. Nobody but me knows the flavor, and it is not written on a sticker. Remus, Leo, and Logan, you will not have to put your headphones on again, but you will have to correctly identify both flavors to get their point. You will write your answers on these whiteboards. You only get one kiss to determine your guess. On your marks, get set, go!”

Sirius swiped a decent amount over his lower lip and pulled Remus in with his hands on his cheeks; Finn practically used half the stick covering his mouth before collecting his kisses. “That’s interesting,” Leo murmured, tapping his dry-erase pen on his thigh. “That’s very interesting.”

Remus jotted down an answer and leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied smile. “You know it?” Sirius asked with a grin.

“I do.”

“Is that your final guess?’ Dorcas checked. He nodded, and she took his pen. “Leo, Logan, do you have a guess as well?”

“I think I know one of the flavors,” Leo said cautiously, bending over to whisper it in Logan’s ear. He hummed in agreement, then whispered back.

“This is so intense,” James murmured, looking between the two teams as Lily perched herself on his lap. “I feel like I’m watching the Olympics.”

“If we get one of the flavors right and Loops gets both wrong, do we win?” Logan asked as Leo wrote their answer down.

Dorcas thought for a moment. “Yeah, sure. But only if Remus gets it completely wrong.”

“What’s the prize?”

“You already get to kiss your partners all afternoon instead of running drills. What more do you want?”

“Amen,” Remus agreed.

“Alright.” Leo handed over the whiteboard pen, though he looked nervous.

“Would you like to go first?” Dorcas offered.

“Coconut and lemon?”

“That is incorrect.”

“Ah, fuck me,” Logan muttered. “Loops, you’d better be wrong.”

Remus’ smile was even more pleased as Dorcas turned to him. “Remus, do you know what it is?”

“Well, Ms. Meadowes, I’m glad you asked. That’s Burt’s Bees honey and coconut.” He flipped the board with a flourish. “And it just so happens that my boyfriend bought that exact chapstick at the store last week and has worn it every single day since then.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Leo looked between them in shock as Logan’s jaw dropped. Finn buried his face in his hands. “Of every flavor on earth—”

“I promise it was not intentional,” Dorcas said, though she was laughing a little. “I literally rolled dice to pick it while I was looking at the website.”

Sirius looked to the ceiling as he pulled Remus’ chair closer. “Thank you, universe, for my terrible impulsive habits in the self-checkout line.”

Dorcas turned to the camera with a dimpled smile and spread her hands. “Thank you for joining us for the chapstick challenge, Lions! You can find all these flavors at the link in the description. Like and subscribe for more videos like this, have a great day!”

#remus lupin #sirius black #james potter #lily potter #leo knut #finn ohara #logan tremblay #coops #oknutzy #jily #sweater weather #vaincre #lumosinlove #my fic #fanfic #lion pride #social media #chapstick challenge

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donutloverxo · 4 years

Text

Yes captain

Note - this is part three of corrupting a good boy but it's mostly porn so can be read as a standalone as well. Sorry about all the jealousy stuff its just what the muse calls for sometimes. Comments/reblogs are really really appreciated🙏🙏 Dividers by @whimsicalrogers.

Summary - You ask Steve to keep it on while doing it 👀👀

Warnings - 18+ only explicit sexual content, uniform kink, captain kink, daddy kink, roleplaying, jealousy, insecure reader.

Pairing - CEO!Steve x reader

Word count - 4.5k

“Ooo,” you yelped, trying to run away from his firm grip across your hips.

It only made him hold onto you tighter, his nails digging into the flesh of your hips. “There’s no where to run, babygirl,” he chuckled at your misery, delivering another harsh slap to your naked bottom.

You shrieked in pain as your flesh burned in agonising, but delicious pleasure. As if you’d ever want to actually run. “I’m sorry, daddy.” Since you were allowed to call him daddy now, which seemed to always make him forgive you, but you added your princess voice just to be safe and not make it any harder on yourself.

“You should’ve thought of that before you decided to make fun of my team, but you had to be a dumb baby and run your mouth,” he scolded you, slapping you twice before slipping a hand between your legs, the squelching noises of him gathering your slick on his fingers made your ears burn.

You had gotten too bored of him watching the game and not paying attention to you so you might’ve said some mean things about his team, but the jokes on him since your diabolical plan seemed to have worked.

You had gotten too lost in slight tinge of pain in the roots of your hair, that he was pulling, and his fingers teasing your core, you yelped forward when he slapped your pussy, gasping as you throbbed for more of it.

“Honey,” Steve shook your arm causing you to jolt awake.

You had a habit of talking or mumbling nonsense in your sleep and since he was a light sleeper it usually woke him up. He found your incoherent rambles and the little faces you made in your sleep cute, they were particularly intense tonight for some reason, and while he loved you with all his heart he was not about to let you talk nonsense about the Yankees.

“What? Where?” you sat up, rubbing the soft sheen of sweat on your forehead with the back of your hand.

“You were talking in your sleep, sweetheart,” Steve said, rubbing his hand up and down your back, “Come here.” He circled a hand around your waist, pulling you down and back against his chest, kissing the back of your head, “What were you dreaming about, hm?”

“Um...” you blinked, “How much of it did you hear?”

“You think your so clever, don’t you,” he teased, pinching the side of your hip as you giggled.

“Yes, I’m very smart.”

You shut your eyes, ready to go back to dreamland and to your daddy, who was just a version of Steve who liked being called daddy. Which was something Steve would never be into. Not that you’d ever admit to having such a shameful kink.

But you felt Steve grind his excitement against your ass, “You wanna go back to sleep, or...?” he asked, biting the shell of your ear before snaking a hand up your cami to grope your breast.

“You woke me up with such debauch intention?!” you gasped in fake incredulity. Deciding to indulge him and that any time spent with normal real Steve was much better than being with dream daddy Steve.

***

You fixed his tie, tightening it just a bit around his neck. His golden hair was smoothed back, your eyes caught a glimpse of his rosy pink lips. So pouty and perfect. You could spend hours just looking at them, his smile was what truly made you fall for him. But you pulled away when he tried to steal a kiss from you.

“Gloss,” you argued, puckering your lips. Instantly feeling guilty as his pink ones pouted, giving you his sweet puppy eyes.

“Come on, doll, just one kiss? Don’t you wanna wish me luck?” He bent to capture your lips but you moved your head away at the last second, making him groan as his nose bumped against your cheek.

“I spent over two hours getting ready for this!” you huffed, smoothening a hand over your puffy tulle dress, finally having a chance to wear it out in public.

“Did you just smudge my blush?” Gasping, as you looked into the mirror, picking up your rouge and patting it on again.

You loved the dress Steve had gotten you for Christmas, it was so pretty and princess and you felt like Cinderella wearing it.

But it was too... girl-ish, Steve had insisted that you wear it. So he could show off his beautiful new wife.

Tonight though, you had to look like a woman.

A strong woman.

Who is not to be fucked around with. And not someone who is vulnerable and weak.

Because you knew she was going to be there.

“You always look gorgeous,” he mumbled, looking in the mirror and patting his hair to make sure it was in place.

You had convinced him to grow it out. Having more courage to express yourself since the Christmas gift mishap a couple of months ago.

Tucking a loose golden strange behind his ear, you wondered how someone as breathtakingly as beautiful as him could be yours.

But as beautiful as Steve was, he could also be naive. He wanted to see the best in people, which often didn’t let him see what was right in front of him.

How his ex Peggy had been trying to cause problems between you two from day one.

At first she had welcomed you with open arms, with a treacherous smile her red lips had told you that she wanted to be best friends with you. Taking you to the MET museum, of which she was a board member, asking your help in organising a couple of galas and the fundraisers. Shopping with you to make you more presentable to be a CEO’s wife

You were prepared to be wary of her. The fact that Steve was still good friends with his ex, who he had dated for more than five years, didn’t exactly sit well with you, you knew you’d face some troubles there, but then you met her and spent time with her you knew that you did had nothing to worry about.

That was until she, and Steve’s mother, had tried to get you to sign a pre-nup before you both got married.

While Sarah was always nice, you could always sense a tinge of hostility, your intuition told you how she preferred Peggy over you and would much rather have her as Steve’s wife.

With a heavy heart you had told Steve you couldn’t do it. That there was no point in getting married if you would end up divorced eventually. You were ready to cut your losses then, to pack your bags and go home, preparing for the worst. But he understood and said that he wouldn’t be marrying you if he didn’t trust you.

You were glad to have worked out everything, but decided to play nice with ‘Judas', whom you learned had infamously betrayed Jesus from a mass you attended with Steve and Sarah, and pretend that you didn’t know anything about her betrayal.

You shook your head, there was no point in letting her ruin your night, or dictate what you wore. The dress was what you liked and who you were, there was no reason for you to pretend to be like her. Steve liked you because you were nothing like her,

....probably.

You looked over to Steve, tugging his pants up and securing them, you had never once thought you’d be someone who’d have a thing for men in uniforms, they were simply doing their jobs, what the fuck was sexy about uniforms anyway, but that was until you saw your Steve in his...

He really could pull off any color, even something as boring as army green, his chest and built looked almost too broad. Numerous medals adorning his chest. He certainly looked the part of a soldier.

He kissed your temple when he caught you staring at him and you only hoped he couldn’t decipher what was going on in that horny brain of yours.

Steve rarely ever talked about his days in the army. If he did it was about the friends he made and the good times he shared with them. And how army whipped him in shape, made him the man he was.

He had been honorably discharged a couple of years ago, all his army friends only ever spoke highly of him--which wasn’t really surprising.

***

“Hello, darling,” she smiled to you in her classy British accent, kissing your cheek before hugging you, “How have you been? Haven’t seen you since new years!”

“I’m good and you look amazing.”

Which wasn’t a complete lie, she did look elegant in her uniform, a lot similar to Steve’s but her coat had flares at the end which gave it a more feminine feel than that of Steve’s.

“So do you,” she beamed, “Oh, you have a little something,” she gestured to the corner of your mouth before wiping some white frosting from your cupcake off with her thumb as you tried to keep your face from cringing.

So far the strong woman act wasn’t coming along so well...

“So...how is married life?”

Wouldn’t you like to know. “It’s very good. You know Steve, he’s just amazing. I’m lucky to have him.”

“Oh, I did heard about your little goof with your erotica from Natalie, and the gift slip up!” she laughed, hooking her arm around yours, she walked with you towards your husband. “And here I was thinking you are a good girl,” she winked.

“I... guess I’m not...”

“I must say though, unfortunately for you I don’t think Steve would like any of that. He’s always been so traditional,” she rolled her eyes, “He has an old soul.”

Yes, you knew that. You knew that he was traditional and an old soul. Of course You did, he was your husband. Why she felt the need to point out the obvious was beyond you. “Well, you know people can be unpredictable,” you countered.

“Yes, well you’re free to explore of course, I just didn’t want you to get your feelings hurt,” she put a hand over yours.

“Peggy,” Steve greeted her.

“Oh don’t mind us. We’re just gossiping about you,” she smirked.

“Really?” he looked over at you with a quizzical face, “All good things I hope.”

“I don’t have anything bad to say about you,” you said giving Peggy a side eye, “Can we dance? Please?”

It didn’t take a lot of convincing because he loved dancing. After a couple of dances it was time for him to give his speech.

Seeing your husband up on the stage, hearing everyone talk about his accomplishments made your heart swell in pride. You really couldn’t believe you were married to someone like him.

You suppose that you understood where Sarah was coming from. It would make sense for someone like Steve to fall for and marry a classy worldly lady like Peggy. There really wasn’t much you could offer him.

***

“Steve,” you huffed, trying to yank on the zipper for like the tenth time, while you loved the dress you needed to get out of it and breathe for a while.

“Yes, doll?” he called for you, entering your closet, smiling at your struggling form. “How can I help?”

“You can get me out of this thing!” you said, turning your back to him.

You were really feeling yourself tonight, you had gotten a facial and a manipedi, a blowout, spending hours on getting ready for battle. You thought you looked good and fierce. But then you took off your makeup and your extensions and were reminded of how Peggy was much more effortlessly beautiful than you. She had often been dubbed as a ‘natural beauty’.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

“Is something bothering you?” he asked as he unzipped you.

“No. Will you let me change now?” you turned around, to politely ask him to leave.

“You’ve changed in front of me before.”

“Yes, well I can’t right now.”

“Why not?” he frowned.

“Because...” You couldn’t stop your eyes from turning misty, “I’m ugly...”

“What? Who told you that?” His face instantly flushed with anger as he held onto your forearms, and when you didn’t push him away he pulled you in closer to his chest.

“No one needs to. I know it because I’m not blind,” you confessed, the cool metal of his medal digging into your cheek.

“Then maybe we need to get your eye sight checked. Because you’re the prettiest girl in this whole world. I’ll fight anyone who says otherwise.” He stroked your hair, placing a soft kiss on the top of your head.

“You’ll have to fight the whole world then.”

“If it comes to that then I will.”

You couldn’t help but smile at how protective he was. Propping your chin up on his chest you blinked at him. “Why didn’t you marry Peggy? She’s so much more beautiful.” Your heart was heavy with so many emotions, usually you wouldn’t give in and ask something so dangerous--a question you weren’t sure you wanted the answer to.

Judging by the frown on his face, you were afraid that you had upset him, but then it softened as his pale baby blues twinkled at you, “Why would you say that, doll? Peggy is beautiful, but I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. I could never even dream of marrying anyone else.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. “I know I shouldn’t be comparing myself to others.”

“You really shouldn’t. They don’t measure up to you anyway,” he teased.

“It’s just...” you gulped, not being able to hold his gaze you played with the olive green buttons on his coat, “I heard at the party from Tony, that she will be working with you from now on. Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“You don’t trust me?” his voice cracked.

You whipped your head up, frantically shaking your head from side to side, “No no of course I do! I’m just saying it’s a risky game. To be around her so much... what if old feelings resurface?”

Your heart almost broke as he let go of you, putting some distance between you both, “You know all I ever ask for is that you trust me... and love me. I don’t think it’s a lot.”

You scoffed, “Yeah well, I don’t think me asking you not to work with your ex is a lot. No woman would be okay with her husband spending that much time with her ex.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Why can’t I get through to you?”

“Maybe try speaking at a fourth grade level. Then I’ll understand. Since I don’t have a masters in literature from Sorbonne,” you rolled your eyes. Maybe he was intimidated by how smart Peggy is and decided to go for someone younger and dumber.

“I’ve never... been in love with Peggy or anyone but you really,” he told you, his broad shoulders hunching as he let out a sigh, “Not the way I’m in love with you. We were always more like friends than... lovers.”

“Is that better or worse?” you wondered out loud. Isn’t it important for husband and wife to be friends as well? Was that supposed to be a compliment?

“It’s much better. We would go months without seeing each other, and I didn’t miss her. Like I miss you when I’m at work. I can’t wait to get away and come home to you. Peggy is amazing, and I’ll always have a special place for her in my heart, but I would never even think about cheating on you.

But... I understand where you’re coming from. Maybe I would react the same way if you were to work with an ex. So I can just tell her that she’ll have to work with Nat, or someone else.”

“No,” you blurted.

Absolutely not.

Because A - You really did trust Steve not to stray. He wasn’t that type of man. And B - That would be admitting defeat. Admitting to her that you are afraid of her.

“I do trust you, Steve. I think... I just need to work on myself. If we don’t have trust then we don’t have anything right?”

“I trust you too, honey,” he kissed your forehead. “Just talk to me about this stuff okay? You can’t keep it bottled up.” You nodded as he worked on loosening his tie.

“Um... is that uncomfortable?” you asked, watching him pop open the first button of his shirt.

“The uniform? A little. It’s been a while since I put it on.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t wear it at our wedding.” You smiled. Maybe it was a good thing that he didn’t. While he looked so handsome in the black tux he had worn, the uniform would’ve made him irresistible. You would’ve spent the whole evening swooning over him.

“It didn’t feel right, I just wanted to be myself. Uh... doll,” he quirked a brow as he caught you staring at his crotch, “Hey,” he snapped his fingers, “My eyes are up here.”

“Yes, um, of course,” you whipped your head up as soon as you heard him, since you were too busy trying to make out the outline of his johnson, “And what beautiful eyes you have!”

“Tell me something. What is your obsession with this uniform?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” You decided to feign ignorance.

“Really? You’ve been staring at me all night. Do you not like it? Do you like it? Sometimes I think I don’t understand women at all.”

You probably would’ve appreciated his suit even more so if you hadn’t spent so much time festering in your jealousy. “I think... it’s... kinda hot,” you sighed dreamily as he blushed a crimson red. “You’re like this big strong Captain, and I’m like this small woman, like a damsel in distress type of thing.”

“Oh.” Was the only thing that he said. He never believed you would be into something like that, not from all the feminist rants you tend to go on.

“Oh god. You think I’m a weirdo, don’t you?” You put your hands over your face to hide it from him.

“No no, hey, don’t be like that,” he cooed, pulling your hands away so he could look at your pretty face, “I can be your... big, strong Captain. And you can be my damsel in distress.”

“Huh?”

“Yeah. So... how would it work? Do I save you from a burning building or something?”

“No, sweetie. You’re thinking of a fireman.”

“Oh, right,” he blushed, scratching the back of his neck, “We can do the fireman thing if you like. I can... be a fireman.”

“Steve, we don’t have to do anything.”

“I know. But I want to. Come on! Give me something to work with.”

“Okay,” you cleared your throat. “How about... you keep the suit on?”

“On for how long?” he tilted his head like a cute confused puppy, looking down at his suit, “Oh! You mean on while we’re...”

“Yes. And I could, I don’t know, thank you for serving my country.”

“Yeah. I mean medals and all are nice, but I want a special kind of thanks from you, doll.”

“Ooo,” you felt up his biceps through his coat and shirt, he really was strong. “Do you have anything specific in mind?” you asked, batting your lashes.

“Um... yes.... You get on your knees, miss... I mean ma’am, shit,” he cursed as he awkwardly stumbled over his words. “What do I call you? Are you my wife in this scenario?”

“You can just call me doll, captain. I’ll be whatever you want me to be,” you smiled, cheekily pressing your lips to his in a quick peck but he held onto your waist before you could pull away. Sliping his tongue inside your mouth.

“Alright then, doll. Show me how grateful you are,” he puffed his chest out, so he could appear a bit more dominant.

You only giggled, taking your dress off because there was no way you could kneel in so much tulle.

Standing before him in just a strapless bra and a nude thong, you were vulnerable, but not scared anymore. He was your captain, he’d never ridicule you.

“I’m already feeling appreciated,” he said as he ogled you.

You dropped down to your knees, unbuckling him with some help from him, “It’s so big,” you gasped when you looked at his length, pretending to be seeing it for the first time. Although, you were still always surprised with the sheer monstrosity of it.

“We’ll make it fit, doll. Don’t you worry your pretty little head about that,” he smiled, tapping on your mouth, “Open,” he commanded.

You’re a natural, captain. You took a deep breath before opening wide. You’d been having sex regularly for the past three months or so, he had gone down on you more times than you could count, you felt as if he could live between your legs if he could. But he had never once asked you to return the favor, you didn’t have it in you to be the first one to bring it up either.

Licking your lips, you tasted someone of the preejaculate leaking out of his tip before wrapping your mouth around his head, moaning at the salty taste and the essence of him.

“That’s... ugh,” he groaned, “That’s good. Keep going,” he spurred you on, a hand on the back of your head giving you the slightest bit of push.

You took as much of him as you could, stopping halfway through when he hit the back of your throat, you pumped the rest of his length with your palm, holding onto his thick thigh for support, you bobbed your head, increasing your pace when he started moaning loudly.

Rubbing your thighs together to relive some pressure, your throbbing core desperate for some attention and friction, you knew your panties were ruined.

You had read your fair share of cosmos, and the many sex tips they offered, you knew they’d come in handy someday. You swore you remembered reading something about balls... to suck them? Bite them?

You fondled his balls, feeling him tightening in your palm, you were ready to swallow all of you. That was the only proper way of saying thank you.

“Wait,” he growled, pulling you off of him.

You looked up at him, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, doll,” he heaved, “But I gotta come in your pussy.”

Your jaw dropped, to hear the golden boy using such filthy language. “Whatever you say, captain,” you rasped.

Gasping when he yanked you up, pulling you over his shoulder and carrying you to the bed before throwing you down on the mattress.

Although Steve had always been dominant in bed, it was somewhat lowkey and subtle, he was never rough with you, he treated you as if you were made of glass, right now he was treating you as if you were literally a ragdoll.

“Take off your panties,” he ordered you.

You followed quickly, desperate to have him inside you asap, rolling your thing down your thighs and then getting rid of your bra before he even had to ask. You looked at him through your lashes, waiting patiently for his next command.

He hesitated for a moment before saying, “Now touch yourself.” It had always been a wet dream of his to watch you, instruct you as you got yourself off. Since your intention was to please him... he might as well make most of it.

You blinked at him before nodding, “Yes, captain.”

Fondling your breast you pinched your nipple, pulling on it before hissing exaggeratedly, smirking when you saw his hand twitch to touch you.

“What do I do?” you looked up at him with big doe eyes.

He shook his head, circling a hand around your wrist he shoved two of your fingers inside your mouth, “Suck,” he told you. “You like having your mouth stuffed, don’t you?” he asked as you noisily suckled on his fingers.

You shamelessly nodded, hoping that you’d get more opportunities to suck his cock from now on, he pulled your fingers out, bringing them down between your legs, pushing them into your willing channel. His own thumb rubbing on your clit working you up even moreso.

You threw your head back as you felt your climax approaching. “So close... captain.”

But he pulled your hand away from your pussy, tutting at your disobedience, “I didn’t tell you you could come.” He shook your head, giving you a minute to catch your breath before pushing two of his, much larger fingers inside you, “Gotta get you ready, doll. Since you’re so small.”

“Oh! It’s too much...” you moaned, holding onto the bedding.

“How're you gonna take my dick then, doll,” you watched as he licked your slick off of his fingers, “You taste like heaven, honey.”

“Thank you, captain.”

He unbuttoned his coat, he would be much freer without it and fuck you properly like you deserved.

You rolled your eyes when he folded his coat setting down on the floor, when you were literally lying naked before him with your legs spread wide, waiting as his tie and pants followed, “Really?” you scoffed.

“Can’t have them getting dirty, doll.” He knelt on the bed, now only in his shirt, spreading your legs a bit further so he could make room for himself, nudging your intimate lips apart with his length before slowing sinking into you.

He stayed like that for a bit, inside your heat, it felt as if he would explode then and there but he had to savor the moment. To have such a pretty girl wrapped around him.

Hovering over you he placed his elbows on sides of your head so he wouldn’t put too much of his weight on you, and so he could look at your as he fucked you.

He moved his hips against yours, rocking slow and steady, “You like that, doll?”

“Yes,” you nodded as he pulled on your hair to bare your neck to him. Biting your neck to mark you as his, “Do it harder, please, captain.”

“Harder?” he spoke against your neck, pinning both your hands above your head as he started rigorously pounding into you. “That hard enough?”

You were too fucked out to give a coherent answer, or to do anything but nod pathetically and take whatever he gave you.

“Ima come...” you clenched around him as your orgasm washed over you, rendering you immobile and weightless.

He thrusted into you a couple of times before filling you up to the brim - just as he had promised.

“Thank you, doll. That was really nice,” he smiled, laying beside you and pulling you closer to him, he kissed your forehead.

“Thank you, captain. You sure know how to treat a lady right...”

“Maybe we can do this more often,” he suggested as you nodded in reply.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm.

Shout out to my friend lizzygal (you can find her on ao3) who gave me the idea of Steve folding his uniform. It was too hilarious to leave out! Thanks for reading.

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

#corrupting a good boy #steve rogers fic #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x you

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starrynite7114 · 4 years

Text

always you (angel reyes)

A/N: Good morning everyone! I know I haven’t posted in a while, and you all know why. Thank you all again for being very understanding, it was a rough couple of weeks, and I’m trying to push through the best I can. This story was supposed to be a one shot for a prompt request I received some time ago, but I’m glad I’m able to finally fulfill it. I wrote out most of it already so it should be posted every 2-3 days. I’m also finishing up Roommates this week, at least trying to!

Hope you all have been having a good week thus far! Hopefully it is also warming up! Exams have been killing me, but my last one is later today, so yay!

The new Mayans trailer looked amazing! Definitely getting the creative juices flowing, even for EZ.

Anyways, thank you all again, you are all the utter best!

Special shoutout: To @blackmissfrizzle, you fucking crazy, violent person, my second brain. Because of you, I got a Tiktok guy on here. But thank you for listening to my crazy ideas about this story, a story that was supposed to be a one-shot turned into a series cause of all of those videos, love you though. And to @angelreyesgirl you’re the one who helped me figure out as to why certain things happen in the story, thank you, I just, I love you, you already know this, no more sappiness from me today, maybe. Also, happy birthday!

Groupchat for updates! Please join since the tags could be a bit iffy at times!

If you would like to be added to the tag list, please let me know! My tag list is a little messy, but please let me know if you want to be added!

Masterlist

Word count: 8657

Warnings: Mentions of stalker behavior, angst, smut

169: “ What a pretty sight. ”

187: “ Already? Do I really have that much of an effect on you? ”

You sighed, the knocks on the door following the call you just received from Coco made you want to pull your hair out. This has been ongoing since you two broke up two years ago. It was routine at this point and you were slightly getting tired of it. He chose to let you go and here you were opening your door so Angel could spend the night after a drunken stupor.

“Sorry again hermana, you know I try to bring his big ass home, but you know how stubborn he is.” Coco assisted Angel inside your apartment with Gilly helping him out.

They assisted Angel down to your couch, he was barely conscious. He had this obnoxious smile on his face as he settled on your couch.

“Where’s my girl?” Angel called out as he grabbed a pillow, resting his head.

Gilly looked up at you and you shook your head. “She’s asleep bro, just go sleep.”

“Okay, I’ll go to her.” Angel attempted to stand up, but Gilly held him down.

“Hey, remember, you don’t like bothering her when she’s asleep.” Gilly reminded Angel.

“You’re right, I just want to tell her I love her.” Angel laid back down, his eyes closing.

Before long, Angel’s soft snores indicated to you all he was asleep. Coco looked at you as you looked at Angel, confused as always as to why he had to come to you whenever he was drunk. They’ve tried asking him, both Coco and Gilly, and whenever you saw him in the morning, you just gave him coffee and chose not to talk to him. He tried to make small talk with you, but you didn’t entertain it.

Angel chose to break up with you two years ago, your year and a half relationship down the drain. You didn’t fight him when he ended your relationship. You accepted it and attempted to move on.

Problem was, Angel didn’t let you go. His presence was still felt even though you didn’t see him. Then three months after your breakup, the drunken visits came. At times, he would talk to you when he would come drunk, but you chose to ignore it and just took care of him.

You wanted to turn him away, but you love Angel. It was hard not to do so. Whenever you would think you had the courage to turn him away, you would let him back in your bed just so you could hold him. It was unfair to you, you wanted to move on, yet, when you had the chance to hold him, you never passed it up. You were addicted and you would break the habit eventually, but Angel was just, well, he was Angel.

“Y/N, we can take him home if you want.” Coco hated doing this to you. He was there from the beginning and he didn’t want to keep dragging you back in Angel’s life. He knew how hard you were trying to move on, but it seemed like Angel held on.

“No, it’s okay Coco, just let him sleep.” You pushed your glasses up the bridge of your nose, sighing as you draped a throw blanket over Angel.

“We can stay if you want.” Gilly offered. Much like Coco, he felt for you. You were a sweet girl, always nice to the boys and never made a fuss when Angel chose to break dates to hang out with them. For him, you were the ideal girl, you were reasonable, beautiful, and a hell of a cook. When Angel broke up with you, they planned to keep in touch, bug you every once in a while for dinner. But then they realized, Angel had no plans of letting you go either.

You chuckled and shook your head. “It’s fine, I’m sure you guys want a break from this guy.”

“We do, we really do.” Gilly agreed. “But we want to be here for you too, why did we bring him here man?”

“You gonna try to argue with Angel? He’s fucking unreasonable when he’s sober, it’s another thing when Don Quixote over here is drunk.” Coco shook his head. “If you need anything, just call me.”

“Call us.”

You nodded your head. You gave the two Mayans a hug before closing the door behind them. When you turned back, you gasped when you found Angel standing.

“Let’s go sleep?” His eyes were opening and closing and he was slightly swaying. You took one of his arms and led him to your room.

This was how it always ended. Regardless if you put Angel in your guest bedroom or the couch, he always ended in your bed.

You assisted him on your bed, going back to close your door. Angel took off his clothes, leaving him in just his boxers. “I love you.”

Your heart clenched hearing him say that. He always told you he loves you. Without a fail, he always did, when he was visiting you intoxicated. Yet, you never felt it, especially with the way things ended. And he never said it when you were together. You did, and that’s when things went downhill for you two. Holding on to the doorknob, you tried to stop the tears from coming. Angel was watching you, waiting for you to come join him on your bed. He just wanted to hold you.

“You coming?”

You nodded your head and went to your side of the bed as Angel scooted up to his. Moving the blanket, you two settled under the blanket and Angel pulled you flush against him. He caressed your face, before leaving a kiss on your forehead.

Looking up at him, he was looking down at you, he was caressing your face again.

“What a pretty sight.” He sighed.

Your head rested on his chest and you eventually heard his breathing even out. You’re not sure how much more you could take of this.

You had to move on.

It was time.

The next morning, you hoped it’s one of the days that Angel left while you were asleep. And he did, which you were thankful for. It was always awkward when Angel was still here when you woke up. Rolling over to the side, you sat up, slipping your glasses back on. Yawning, you checked your phone and had a few messages from Coco and Gilly, one from EZ.

Choosing to reply later, you placed your phone back on your dresser and stood up. Stretching as you let out a yawn, you walked out of your room and froze when you heard movement in your kitchen. Rushing back in your room to get the bat you had for protection, you made your way back towards the kitchen, peaking in and found Angel. You contemplated pretending to go back to sleep, but Angel’s voice stopped you.

“Don’t even think about pretending to go back to sleep, I made you breakfast and you have work in an hour and a half.” Angel called out.

You sighed. Placing your bat at its spot in your room, you go to the kitchen and found Angel making a plate. He handed you the plate and you murmured a thank you. Sitting at the dining table, you made sure to sit on the other side since the two chairs beside you were full of presents you have yet to wrap for Christmas. You still had time, but your dining table was basically full.

Angel smirked when he saw where you were situated. You acted as if he wasn’t with you for four years. He placed his plate down at the other end of the table. Moving your stuff to your coffee table, you opened your mouth to protest, but Angel already placed the presents down.

“You don’t have to move them, there’s plenty of room.” You protested.

“Away from you, yes. But I want to sit next to you.” Angel moved his plate and sat beside you. He shot you a smile before picking up his fork. “Come on, eat up.”

“Angel, this really isn’t necessary. I can just grab something on my way to work.” You didn’t like spending time with Angel, especially in this way since it still struck a chord with you. The familiarity of it was a painful memory of what was let go two years ago.

“It would be rude for you to not eat after I made your favorite.” Angel knew you couldn’t resist a good omelette filled with spinach, bacon, sausage and cheese. “Please, let me do this for you, you did me a solid, again.”

Picking up your fork, you began eating. Letting the silence enveloped between you two. This was better. You didn’t want to talk to Angel. You didn’t want any thank you’s or apologies, you just wanted him to go so you could pretend that the other didn’t exist again.

Angel watched as you ate, keeping your eyes on your food. He hated how he did this to you, how you couldn’t even look at him. Every time he became highly intoxicated, Angel refused to go anywhere but your place, since it’s when he needed you most. Angel hardly drank himself to a stupor, but when he did, he was mostly troubled and was trying to forget the issues that were weighing heavily on him. Even though it’s been two years, you were one of those issues. He saw you around town often and it hurt him whenever he did. You were so close yet so far away. He knew that Coco and Gilly hang out with you every once in a while. Every day, it was a struggle for him to not see you, talk to you, hold you and be with you.

So he came up with this ridiculous plan after you accepted him into your home one night after he got drunk.

Whenever missing you became too unbearable, he got wasted and refused to go anywhere but your place. He was always aware enough to know he would be brought to you. And once he was with you, you would take care of him. He felt somewhat bad, but he didn’t know how else to approach you.

“Are you busy tonight?” Angel broke the silence between you two.

“What?” You had to make sure you heard him correctly. Looking over at Angel, he was waiting for you to reply. “I have a dinner thing.” A lie, and you were almost sure Angel could see right through it, but you didn’t want to think that. You could pull this off.

“A dinner thing?” Angel raised an eyebrow, amused by your choice of words. “Sounds like a fake thing.”

“Doesn’t matter to me if you believe me or not, I have plans.” You had finished your food. Picking up your plate, you placed it in the sink and turned to face Angel who was still sitting down. “Don’t worry about the dishes, I can do them. Also, I’m not really sure why you always decide to keep coming to my place when you get drunk, but I would really appreciate it if you didn’t come here anymore.” Your best friend, Marie had advised you to create boundaries, to tell Angel that you no longer want him coming over whenever he was intoxicated.

That it was time for you both to stay away from one another like you intended to do so when he broke up with you.

“Querida.” Angel stood up, but you shook your head, holding your hand up.

“You wanted to break up, we’re done Angel. As much as I want to be there for you, I can’t keep doing this and hurting myself. You chose to let me go, so go.” You left the kitchen and entered your room, locking the door.

Angel watched as you walked away, telling himself to run after you, but he couldn’t. He’ll let you walk away for now, but after you put such a decisive end to this whole thing, he couldn’t just let go. It may be selfish, but living without you for the past two years further opened his eyes.

He wanted to be with you and just you.

It’s always been you.

=================

A month without any incident with Angel. You're glad he has finally decided to leave you alone. Coco had texted you a few times expressing that he was proud of you about putting your foot down with Angel. EZ has been frequenting the library more as of late, and he’s either had Marie with him, his girlfriend, or he came by himself.

A new year and new decade ushered in a new era for you.

You caught EZ coming in, a smile appearing on your face.

“We got that book you’ve been waiting for, I saved you the copy since it was the only copy we got.” You grabbed the book and handed it over to him.

“Thanks Y/N.” He looked around. “Um, did Coco come? Or any other Mayan?”

“No,” you gave him a confused look. “You’re the only Mayan that comes during business hours. The others usually come when the library is closed waiting for me to make sure I made it home safely when I was still dating Angel.”

EZ opened his mouth to apologize but you held your hand up.

“Ezekiel, I’m not fragile, it’s fine to mention your brother.” You laughed lightheartedly to lighten the mood. You knew EZ tried his best not to mention his older brother. “So you and Marie are getting serious?”

“Something like that,” the sheepish smile on Ezekiel’s face made you want to pinch his cheeks. “Just put a good word for me.”

“A good word? My best friend hates hanging out at the library with me, yet, she comes here to what? Watch you read?” You loved teasing Ezekiel. You were glad when he got out of prison, the way everything turned out for him, it was awful but you were grateful he was getting another chance at life. “You should at least take her out on a date.”

“Look, don’t judge me, I just got out of prison.”

“It’s been two years.”

“Alright, fine, Marie is just intimidating. One day she seems impressed with me, the next she’s not into it.”

“I think you’re reading too much into the situation. You two have been talking for four months now and you still haven’t asked her out. Marie is simple, start with the movies.” You suggested.

“That’s fucking lame though.”

“Okay Netflix.”

“How about the fair? You and Angel can be like our chaperone.” EZ was trying to help Angel, soften you up some, but you were pretty good at blocking EZ’s charm.

You looked at EZ for a moment, a small laugh escaping your lips. “Nice try.”

EZ smiled and took the book to his usual corner at the library. You knew your best friend would be bursting through the door in the next thirty minutes. Marie and EZ have been playing the flirting game for the last year and have been officially talking for the last four months. It was cute and you were happy that Marie found EZ and vice versa.

You got on the computer, trying to organize the library website like you promised your boss that you would do. The door opened and you expected the usual coffee Marie brought you.

“I feel like I should start requesting for a pastry since you two use my library as your hangout spot.” You teased. “I’m glad you’re here, coffee will help me through the rest of my shift.”

“I didn’t bring coffee querida, but I can run and get you some.”

You froze. That wasn’t Marie’s voice. Looking up, you found Angel with his staple kutte on his back along with a navy blue button up. His body has changed over the last two years, his muscles were more prominent. You weren’t blind, you could appreciate Angel taking care of his body.

“Can I help you?” The professional tone killed Angel, but he was determined to break through that.

“Came to check out a book, maybe you can help me?” Angel leaned against the countertop of the kiosk desk. His scent hit you and it made you want to smack him. How dare this man? You wanted to move on, and you’ve been doing so well.

“I didn’t know you could read.”

“You know that’s a lie, I used to read to you while I fucked you.”

“Angel.” You hissed out his name, not wanting to yell.

Angel chuckled at your reaction. “Is it not true?”

“Listen, loitering is not allowed here.”

“That’s literally what everyone does around here.” Angel looked over at EZ and he shot his baby brother a smirk. “Well, I was looking for Stanford, I’ll be seeing you.”

You chose not to reply, saying ‘yeah right’ in your head. Marie walked in coffee and a box of Krispy Kreme in hand. The sigh of relief you let out was definitely noticed by her and her eyes immediately roamed the library to see if your creepy admirer was around, but instead she found EZ and Angel.

“Never pegged Angel as a library type of guy.” She placed your drink on the countertop.

“He actually loves poetry, he really likes the European writers, British novels mostly Pride and Prejudice, Frankenstein, Jane Eyre, Shakespeare.” You mouthed off Angel’s interest which never surprised Marie. When you love someone, you made it a mission to know that person, so you would know their ins and outs. You become invested in any relationship you forge since you rarely make friends as it was. It wasn’t about quantity, it was all about quality for you. A hard lesson you learned over the years. “He’s a big fan of Scarlet Letter and Invisible Man. But he really likes poetry from all generations, when we were still together, I got him a few poetry books from a few authors he liked.” You paused, realizing the tangent you went on. It wasn’t uncommon whenever you spoke about Angel.

Marie enjoyed it because she got to learn about her old obnoxious neighbor that never deserved her best friend. You met Angel through Marie and in some ways, she regretted letting it happen, but when she saw how happy you were, how could she be so opposed? Even with knowing Angel’s history, she had faith. But then Angel decided that the single life was more of a life for him, something you never knew about. You never wanted to know about it and she didn’t push you.

“It’s okay, I love your tangents, even if they’re about that asshat.” Marie rolled her eyes. “So, have you given any thought of going on a date with Tyler?”

“You mean your co-worker you always refer to as a man slut?”

“Bitch, we’re trying to get the pussy wet, not a serious relationship.”

“That’s a no.”

You and Marie jumped, not expecting to hear Angel’s voice.

“Where did you even come from?”

“You setting her up?” Angel ignored Marie’s question. He was going to bug you for the name of that author you always raved about when you two were together, but he became intrigued when he caught the tail end of your tangent about his interests. It was endearing for him to hear that you still knew so much about him, but his mood soured when he heard Marie trying to set you up. “Tyler, the douche that always gets drunk out of his mind at the clubhouse?”

“Again, just trying to get her dry spell to end.”

“I volunteer.” Angel smirked.

“Not interested.” You replied as you turned to face Angel. “We talked about this, please, just respect my wishes. I don’t even know why you’re here.”

“Hate to break it to you querida, the library is public property, unless I’m disrupting the peace, I have every right to be here as much as you do.” Angel placed his chin on his hand, smiling sweetly at you.

You grabbed the coffee and the box of donuts. “I’m going to take my break.”

Your co-worker, Sienna took over the kiosk desk, Marie making her way over to Marie. She knew you needed some alone time. As she passed Angel, she patted his back.

“Give her space, don’t push it.”

Angel wasted enough time. He knew you. It’s not that you didn’t want to be around him, you were just protecting your heart. He gave you five minutes before he followed after you, finding the trunk of your Toyota RAV4 opened. Walking over to you, he opened his mouth to speak, you beat him to it.

“Eugene, please, I’m on my break, I would appreciate it if you didn’t follow me.” Your day was starting to become shit since seeing Angel helped you realize that you weren’t over him. It’s been two years but due to his drunken escapades, it was hard for you to move on.

“Who the fuck is Eugene?”

“No one.” You didn’t want to tell Angel about Eugene. It’s not like he would care, but you haven’t exactly told Angel about how your kindness to Eugene went from endearing to him becoming obsessive. “Can I help you?”

“I was going to take a smoke break then I saw your trunk open.” Angel shrugged, taking note of the name Eugene so he could ask Marie later. “Can I join you?”

“No, I’m done.” You closed the box of donut, picking up your drink as you stood up.

“Come on, throw me a bone here. Can you give me a chance to explain?”

“Explain what exactly? Why you broke up with me? Why you kept me in your back pocket by being your go to house when you're drunk?”

“You gonna let me explain or are you gonna continue interrupting me?”

“I don’t care what you do, just please stay away from me. You’ve made your stance very clear two years ago. I don’t care why you came to me while you’re drunk, but it doesn’t matter. Don’t come to my job, don’t come to my apartment, just please stay away from me.”

“You don’t mean that.” Angel frowned. He didn’t expect things to go like this. Maybe he was an asshole or an idiot, but he expected you to welcome him with open arms.

“I do, I want to move on, build new relationships and be happy. I didn’t break your heart, I didn’t hurt you, if you don’t love me that’s fine. If you feel bad for what happened, you’re good, you’re forgiven.” You pressed the button that automatically closed your car. “I’m suffocating right? I’m too nice right? Then leave me alone.”

“You really just gonna walk away?”

You were about to answer Angel when you heard a familiar voice call out your name. Looking to where you heard the voice, you saw Jay, your ex-boyfriend. Angel cussed under his breath when he saw him. Jay was a sore subject for Angel. You two rarely spoke about Jay and it was mostly due to the fact that Angel never brought him up. When you did bring up Jay, it was a rare occurrence. It’s not that Angel didn’t care about your ex-boyfriend, in fact, he cared too much. Too many times he’s heard people spoke about how epic you and Jay were together. The perfect couple that would have stayed together if you decided to go with Jay to Germany.

“Jay?” You hopped out of your trunk and was in disbelief. Jay, from what you knew, was still in Berlin, and wouldn’t be back for another three years. You kept in touch with him since you had a quite amicable break-up.

You two had dated for eight years before you two eventually parted ways. High school sweethearts, intended to last forever, but forever wasn’t a thing. You two broke up amicably and remained friends. It was hard not to be friends with a person you spent eight years of your life with.

It was your ex-boyfriend.

He couldn’t forget his name, he knew everything about the fucking guy. The first love, the one you would always love, that was the cliche, right? He remembered that he briefly met Jay before he left for Berlin once again. He was bringing you home after a catch up dinner with other friends and he saw just how your smile shone brightly around him. Jay was looking down at you, returning your smile as you animatedly spoke to him about something. You turned to face Angel and what he missed was how your smile changed, it was that smile specifically for your Angel. You had made your way towards him, wrapping your arms around him. Jay first met Angel then and much to your surprise, Jay took a liking to Angel, especially since he was a big fan of his Harley. Angel didn’t show much interest towards Jay, but you knew it bugged your then boyfriend how close you were to Jay.

Angel was not friends with any of his exes, but he also wasn’t with them for a long amount of time. If anything, you were his longest relationship. And seeing you react the way you did with Jay, he regretted it further that he let you go.

“Eugene is still coming here? You told me you handled that.” Jay was annoyed, you told him that you handled your too friendly library consumer. Jay stood at 6’4, 210 pounds, the Marines shaped him well.

You looked at Angel and Jay did as well.

“If you’re going to bother her when you’re drunk, you should at least get rid of her stalker.” Jay didn’t have a problem with Angel, but he knew Angel had a problem with him. He could see it when they first met. He couldn’t blame him, he rarely knew of exes that were friends, but Jay couldn’t exactly let you go.

You two grew up together, you knew him best.

“Excuse me? Who the fuck do you think you are?” You saw how quickly Angel’s face turned sour and you knew you could have a fight in your hands.

“Aright, let’s not do anything crazy.” You got in between them, with you facing Angel. “We’re done.”

You locked your car before making your way inside the library once again, dragging Jay with you, and leaving Angel to his own devices. The broken look on your face, he wanted to take that away, especially since he caused it. He loves you, he really did, he was just an idiot.

The fact that Jay was seemingly back in town, Angel had to make a move.

And you should know better, Angel was anything but a quitter.

=================

Angel walked in the library and found you talking to one of your co-workers. He saw her nudge you and your eyes met. Quickly you looked away, shushing your co-worker. Angel took his usual spot opening the book he had borrowed earlier in the week. You weren’t surprised Angel burned through books, people counted him out due to his affiliates, but you knew better than to judge a book by its cover.

Jay hasn’t been back since he saw him two weeks prior. Angel frequented the library and never saw a sign of him.

“You look beautiful Y/N.” Eugene, a regular at the library, complimented you. What started off as you being kind, feeling bad for a man who appeared to be a loner, was starting to make you feel uneasy. For the last three years, he progressively became bolder and you could tell that he was getting to the point where aggressive behavior was going to come out. Regardless of how nice you were, you always made sure he knew that you two were friends.

“Thank you Eugene.” You faked this small smile on your lips, but you didn’t want to provoke him. Sienna stayed beside you, she was more straightforward and had no problem telling Eugene to fuck off.

“Have you thought of my invitation for dinner tonight? My mother would love to meet you? I speak about you often with her.” The uneasiness at the pit of your stomach was unexplainable and Angel noticed the change on your face.

Sienna looked at you, her eyes slightly widening. She’s had enough of Eugene. It was small talk at first, but as of late, the man was beginning to be more bold. Starting with grabbing a drink or coffee, it evolved to having dinner at his place. You never entertained the idea and always let him down, but he wasn’t understanding.

“I’m sorry Eugene, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” You saw how his face slightly scrunched up, his voice slightly raising. A few of the library patrons looked over before going back to their book. “Stop being such a tease and just go to my place.”

Both you and Sienna were appalled by his suggestion. You never teased him.

“Excuse me? I’ve never done such a thing.”

“Oh please, with the skirts and dresses you wear, how do you expect anyone to not be teased by your clothing. Mother is right, you’re a slut, but no mind, I can repent you.”

Angel heard enough. You saw him from the corner of your eye.

“Call security, I’ll handle Angel.” You walked out of the kiosk and intercepted Angel.

“Let go of me, he’s not going to get away speaking to you like that.” The restrained tone in Angel’s voice made you nervous for Eugene.

“Please, Angel.” The way you whispered his name with a plea, it made Angel sigh deeply, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he looked up at the ceiling.

“Make sure he’s gone when we get back.” He instructed Sienna. You led him to the restricted area of the library which was situated at the back. Older books or original versions of books were kept here, with only employees having access and at times guests who were accompanied by employees.

When you two were all the way at the back of the restricted area, you leaned against one of the bookshelves as Angel paced back and forth in front of you.

“How long has he been harassing you?” Angel questioned, continuing his pace.

“Angel.”

“How. Long.” He let out through gritted teeth. There was no argument. He let you take him away, you owed him this.

You didn’t want to tell Angel, it didn’t matter anyway. All you knew was that you had to take care of this, he was making your anxiety spike up. “Three years.”

“Three years?!” Angel’s voice echoed throughout the library.

“Angel.” You hissed, keeping your voice low.

“Are you fucking kidding me? And you never told me?” Angel didn’t heed your warning. He was livid. How could you not tell him, especially while you two were together?

“Eugene is harmless.” He shot you a look and you sighed. “He was harmless.” You amended your statement. “Angel, please, it’s okay.”

“No the fuck is not, the way he spoke to you?” Angel felt his temper rise again. Fuck security, he would beat the idea in to Eugene that he was to never breathe the same air as you again. “Wait, Jay knew? And you didn’t tell me?”

You cussed under your breath. You accidentally told Jay about Eugene. He was FaceTiming you when Eugene came in after hours. You were able to shoo him away since Jay was on the phone. You never even thought of telling Angel, you didn’t want Angel to make a big deal out of it and you honestly thought you were reading too much into it.

“I,” you sighed. “It wasn’t on purpose. Jay was FaceTiming me when Eugene walked in after hours.”

“Did you have him pretend to be your boyfriend?” Angel knew he was being unreasonable, but it irked him that your ex-boyfriend knew about your stalker and he didn’t. He was the one who was in Santo Padre. He was the one who could deal with it.

“No, Angel, it was years ago.”

“My fucking point exactly, it’s been years and you never told me. I was your boyfriend then, not him. How could you not tell me?”

“I don’t know, it was harmless, I didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing.”

“Out of nothing?” Angel exclaimed, shaking his head at your ridiculousness. “We’re gonna fucking talk after this, this should have never been an issue.”

Before he could leave, you blocked his way.

“Move.”

You shook your head.

“Don’t act like I can’t just lift you out of the way.”

You weren’t exactly the lightest, and hardly looked like any of Angel’s previous girlfriends. You had meat on your bones and some people may poke fun at your weight, but Angel always made you feel like a queen. He loved your curves, kissed and worshipped every part of your body. Well until he broke up with you.

“Angel, please, just stay with me.” You wrapped your arms around him and he wrapped his arms around you.

“No, he’ll never learn his lesson unless,”

You cut Angel off by bringing his lips down to yours. Whenever Angel became irritated or upset, small touches or kisses from you would always calm his anger. You took a chance knowing Angel doesn’t exactly want you anymore, so you’re not sure what this would do for the situation, but you had to try. Angel immediately responded to your kiss, his hands cupping your face. One of his hands slid down to your neck, slightly moving you so you were against the bookshelves. His hand moved down, brushing against your breast causing you to moan. Angel’s tongue slipped in, deepening your kiss. He pressed you against the shelf, pulling away and pressing his forehead against yours. The anger that had overtook his body was gone, and was now replaced for a burning desire for you.

“You still taste so good.” Angel kissed you again, your back arching so your front was pressed against his front. One of his hands was sliding under your skirt, causing you to pull away.

“No Angel.” You shook your head, moving away from him to fix yourself.

Angel groaned, his dick was hard and he was at a library with no means of relieving it. He thought of anything that could help his erection to go away, his third grade teacher who was horrific to him did the trick. Turning to face you, he found you looking around before you took his hand and led him further down the restricted area of the Santo Padre library. It was an old library, built by the Spaniards when they were doing their missions along California. Bringing him to the last row where you knew there was an entrance to the inventory the library had for the restricted section. You knew no one ever went in there till closing. You didn’t want Angel to do anything to you, but you could definitely help alleviate some of his anger.

“Querida, where the fuck are we?” Angel looked around and the shelves were against the walls, a few shelves were in the middle of the room, otherwise, there were books everywhere. You led him to a desk that Sienna used to organize the unlabeled books. You pushed Angel down onto the office chair. He watched as you sunk to your knees, your eyes focused on unbuckling his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. “Hey, you don’t have to do this.”

“I know, but I want to.” You lifted your eyes to meet his and the softness in his eyes was such a stark contrast from earlier where they were dark, anger obviously apparent. Now, it was adoration and lust that clouded his iris. You tugged on his jeans, which Angel assisted you with, lifting himself up so you could pull down his jeans and boxers. Smirking, you wrapped your hand around his semi-hard cock, using some of his pre-cum to help your hand glide down with ease. Angel groaned, leaning his head back. It was his weakness, watching your beautiful lips around his cock, trying to take in as much of his cock, he was a goner whenever you did that. The way your eyes would water, your cheeks hallowed, your mouth full of him, the image alone could make him cum. But he always held back, letting himself enjoy you.

“Fuck, look at you mi sol,” he watched as you spat down on his cock, holding his thick member with one hand. Placing a kiss on the tip of his cock, you looked up at Angel as you opened your mouth to take him in. Just as he taught you, you took Angel until you could not take any of him anymore, moving your head back up, his cock sheath with your saliva. You took him in your mouth once more, Angel gathering your hair in one hand. He loved your eyes on him. Those hooded eyes under those thick black rimmed glasses of yours. You move your mouth up and down his cock, hollowing your cheeks and swallowing around him whenever his tip reaches your gag reflex. You let go of him with a pop, your hand replacing your mouth. “That’s right baby, take your dick and let me fuck that pretty mouth of yours.” Angel tried not to lose himself with you, but any part of you that was connected always felt so good for him. He didn’t know what it was but everything he did with you was a hundred times more intense when compared to others.

Placing two hands on his cock, you had your mouth on the tip of his cock, running your tongue over and over again over Angel’s sensitive cock. He moaned out your name, gripping your hair tighter. You were licking his cock like it was a tootsie roll lollipop and you were trying to get to the center. You moved so that your tongue was moving up and down his shaft, getting to the top and engulfing his tip with your mouth. Angel groaned, throwing his head back, licking his lips as you continued to bob your head up and down. His hand assisted you, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat, swallowing around it.

“Holy fuck princesa, keep going I’m about to cum.” Angel moaned. “You want me to cum in your mouth baby? You gonna swallow daddy’s cum?”

You chose not to answer and continued your ministrations. Just as you felt Angel’s cock pulsing in your mouth, you pulled away, placing a kiss on his cock. Angel slammed his hand on the desk, grabbing your hair.

“You really want to play with daddy?” His face was so close to you, your hand still around his cock. You tightened your hold, moving your hand up and down causing Angel to close his eyes. He moaned out your name, further dampening your panties. “Put your mouth back on my cock so I can fuck that pretty little mouth of yours.”

You followed Angel’s instructions, taking him back in your mouth. Angel began to thrust up in your mouth, tears forming in your eyes as he moved in and out of your mouth. Your hands rested on Angel’s thighs, your nails digging into his skin. He chanted your name before he came in your mouth, holding your head against him. You swallowed some of his cum, keeping some of it in your mouth. He let go of your hair, saying how much of a good girl you were for swallowing daddy’s cum. His cock was still semi-erect and you smirked, dropping some of his cum on his cock, making Angel groan as he felt himself hardened again at the sight of you using his cum as lubrication, moving your hand up and down once again.

“God, my dirty little librarian.” Angel always fantasized doing numerous things with you in the library. You weren’t opposed to it, but Angel hardly came to pick you up from your work. And now, Angel regretted that.

You placed a sweet little kiss at the tip of his cock before you stood up.

“Stay here, I’ll get you some paper towels.” He grabbed your hand, pulling you towards him.

“Let me make you feel good.” Angel smirked when he saw your breast just calling to him. You balanced yourself on the arm rest of the arm chair. Your dress was sinful since it was this black cami dress that you usually wore a cardigan with. He knew without that cardigan, all those fuckers that pretend to go to the library for books would be staring straight at your ample breast. And even though you were wearing leggings under, the imagination was running wild. “Where the fuck is your cardigan?” He hated how your breasts were just out in the open, even though your dress did cover your cleavage well, Angel had fucked you too many times in this dress, pulling the top down, watching as your breast bounced up and down as he fucked you.

“No, it’s okay, I just wanted to make you feel good.” In reality, you were ashamed you let this happen. For two years, you did nothing with Angel besides cuddling and now you not only kissed him but you gave him a blowjob. The only reason you did it was because seeing how protective he became over you, it made your heart melt. “I left it on my chair.” You bit back a moan as Angel grabbed your breast.

“What did daddy say about this dress?” He pushed one of your straps down, licking his lips as his eyes focused on your beautiful skin, calling him to mark it.

“Angel,” you whimpered as he pulled a part of your dress down, your naked breast immediately greeting him.

“Where the fuck is your bra?”

“It has a built in one.”

Angel wrapped his hand around your throat, making you look at him. He growled, squeezing your breast, taking your nipples in between his fingers.

“I’m gonna ask you one more fucking time, what did daddy say about this dress.”

“Not to wear it unless you’re with me.” You gave in and you couldn’t even be angry. Angel was doing a number on you. But you had to snap out of it, pleasuring him was one thing, but you didn’t want to go back there with Angel. “But we’re no longer together.” You moved away, fixing yourself. You were so wet, but you couldn’t give in to Angel.

“I can change that.”

“I’ll meet you at the kiosk desk.”

When Angel eventually joined you at the kiosk desk, you were surprised when he sat right beside you. Sienna threw you a smirk before finishing a few things around the library since you were set to close in forty-five minutes. Eugene was escorted off of the property, but you knew he would be back. You should really be more stern with Eugene, but at the same time you knew he found solace in the library since it was his time away from his mother.

You were organizing a few things at your desk, trying your best to avoid Angel and making yourself look busy. His eyes were on you, you could feel them.

“We’re closing soon, you should go.” Boundaries, you shouted that in your head. Boundaries. You had to set up boundaries or you would be in this endless loop with Angel. There was no future between you two, there was no point of prolonging the inevitable.

“I’ll wait just in case he’s waiting for you outside.” Angel’s voice was strained. You knew he was upset about your comment earlier.

“He won’t be, this isn’t some crime drama.” You tried to lighten the mood, but that seemed to upset Angel further. “I’ll be safe, I promise.”

He leaned in, so only you could hear his words. “Stop it, I’m not leaving you, I’m going to make sure you’re fucking safe. You chose to hide this from me for years and now that I’m in the know, you’re not going to be a fucking statistic.” He took the cardigan that was resting on your chair, and placed it over you. “Wear your fucking cardigan. You think just because we’re not together you’re no longer mine?” Angel chuckled. “You’ll always be mine, you can fight it all you want, but you shouldn’t fight the inevitable.”

“I’m not yours, there’s no fighting anything. We’re not together and it’ll remain that way.” You moved away from him, focusing your eyes on the computer in front of you once more.

The library was finally closed and as Angel promised, he remained by your side. You stood up gathering your things and you saw Sienna making her way towards the door.

“Hey! Are we still meeting at that new Thai place?”

Sienna was about to confirm your plans when Angel shook his head behind you. She refrained from smiling and shook her head.

“Sorry babe, my man just texted me. He’s having some technical difficulties at home. Rain check?”

“Sure.” You smiled and waved her goodbye. You could feel Angel behind you, his heat was just radiating. “Hey, so, I have to do inventory. You can sweep the parking lot to see if he’s there, but otherwise, we’re good. Thanks again for standing up for me.” You didn’t want to face Angel, you were nervous about what you would see. Resisting Angel was difficult and you just had so much willpower left. You never felt your dry spell, it never bothered you, until today. Now you really had to get laid.

You felt Angel box you in, his front against your back. You felt his hot breath against your skin. “Are the cameras on?”

“Huh?” Being in such close proximity to Angel, you wanted to close your eyes, bask in the feeling, but you have to set up boundaries.

“Are the cameras on?” Angel repeated his question.

“No, Sienna turns them off, only the outside cameras are on.”

“Good.” Angel placed his hand on your breast, grabbing it through your dress. Placing your hand on top of his, you incidentally intertwined your hands, with your hand on top of his as his other hand slid down your dress starting from your chest down to your abdomen and under your dress, pulling down your leggings. You felt him smile against your ear when he felt just how dampen your panties were. “You’re so wet, is this all for daddy?”

You whimpered when you felt Angel press against your clothed pearl. He squeezed your breast making you let out another whimper. “I didn’t hear an answer.”

“Yes daddy.” Your other hand grabbed Angel’s before he could move your underwear to the side. “Angel, let’s not do this.” Your mind screamed boundaries while your heart said fuck it.

“Why baby, you let someone else touch my pussy?” Angel swatted your hand, slipping his fingers under your panties. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, stretch out this pussy.”

Your phone began to ring and you immediately grabbed it. It was Jay, your ex-boyfriend. Angel saw the name and growled out your name.

“If you answer, I’m gonna make sure to make you come while he’s talking to you.” Jay was a sore spot for Angel. He was your high school sweetheart. The one that supposedly got away. Fuck that, Angel refused to acknowledge that. Jay was a part of your past, one he never wanted to address since he made him feel even more insecure about your relationship.

Angel ran a finger up and down your slit, slipping it past your entrance shallowly, moving his finger tip in and out. It was just enough for you to feel him, but not enough.

You let your phone ring, focused on the sensations or lack thereof that Angel was providing.

“You want my finger all the way, so you can feel my rings against that pussy?”

You nodded your head, loving the feel of Angel’s hand against yours. His hands were always so fucking big, it made yours feel small.

“Naw, I know you got a voice,” he kissed your ear, nipping at it. “Fucking use it.”

“Yes, please daddy.” You begged.

Angel chuckled lowly and slipped his finger further in, adding a second finger. “Tight as always, no one touched you baby?” His thumb landed on your throbbing pearl, tapping it.

“No daddy, just me.” You didn’t want to disclose with Angel that Marie’s words were true about your dry spell. You felt him add a third finger and you threw your head back, your head landing on Angel’s shoulder.

Angel wrapped a hand on your throat, chastely kissing your cheek. He kept his lips on your cheek, his breath against your skin further turning you on.

“Did you use that toy I got you?” He questioned. He was rubbing his clothes erection against your back, the friction was amazing, but you knew it would be so much better when it was his bare skin against yours.

“Yes daddy, I did.” You were clenching Angel’s fingers, his fingers tightening around your throat.

Just as Angel was about to unzip his jeans to slide on home, the door opened. You tried to move away from Angel, but all he did was fix your dress and kept you pressed against him. Jay looked at you, the swollen lips, the disheveled state and the smug look on Angel’s face gave it away.

“Was I interrupting?” Jay questioned, walking further inside the library.

“No.”

“Yes.”

You and Angel answered at the same time. He looked down at you, but you kept your eyes on Jay.

“You said you wouldn’t be back till next week.” You really wished Jay didn’t come, but at the same time you were glad he came. You were going to cave to Angel and that was the last thing you wanted to do.

“I decided to surprise you.” Jay leaned against the kiosk desk once he arrived, smirking. “You could have continued Reyes, I don’t mind watching.” The smugness on Jay’s face irritated Angel.

You sighed and pushed Angel out of the kiosk desk. “Go home Angel.”

“I’m not leaving you with this guy.” Angel stood his ground. Jay wasn’t your man, and he never would be again.

“She’s safe with me, go back to your little club, fix bikes, fuck bitches, and sell drugs.” Jay knew what the Mayans were, he’s had his fair share of run ins with them over the years. He was friends with Neron, a gym buddy of his you could say and he served time with Johnny in the Marines.

“Jay!” You hissed.

Angel just smirked and shook his head. Jay wasn’t worth it, not yet at least.

“I’ll see you later querida.” He brushed past Jay. It took every fiber in his body to not knock him out.

There was a time and place.

His main goal right now was to get you back. You two had plenty to talk about and Angel planned on discussing things with you. He wasn’t going to let Jay weasel his way back in, especially since he may never let you go again.

Angel understood he fucked up.

He made a hasty decision.

But, it was a new year.

It’s 2020.

A brand new decade.

Your past grievances could be left behind in 2019.

Valentine’s Day was around the corner and he was determined to spend it with you.

Angel was more determined to win you back. That kiss, he knew he wasn’t the only one who felt that undeniable spark between you two. And the sexual encounters you two just had, it left Angel wanting more, as he always had.

But he had to take care of Eugene and then Jay.

=================

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