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0nlythrowharrybeaux · 1 year

Text

With Discretion

Here it is! I hope you guys like part 1. Part 2 is in the works. I am planning for this to be a 2 parter, 3 at the most haha we'll see! You can find more of my work here. In the meantime enjoy this one! (Once again, gif credits to @londonharry 🫶🏻)

Warnings: Infidelity (adultery), inappropriate relationship, mentions of drinking/partying, mild dirty talk, slight praise kink, multiple and forced orgasms, dry humping, choking, oral sex (f receiving described, m receiving mentioned), fingering, sex (protected & unprotected)

WC: 12.7K

You had never intended on sleeping with your husband, Caleb’s, boss but you had six months ago and you hadn’t stopped thinking about him since. It was overwhelmingly excellent and of course, unforgettable. You didn’t even feel guilty anymore when you fantasized about him when you and Cal would sleep together. The way it developed felt almost like a TV drama scriptwriter had taken over your life and was writing your character into a completely surreal situation.

You had suspicions that Cal was having an affair. You lived in the suburbs so his commutes to work were nearly an hour there and back, so when he had to work late it made sense to get a hotel and stay the night in the city. But it was hard to miss the fact that over the course of the past year, the odd late night at the office had suddenly become more commonplace.

At first you thought nothing of it, but one day he made the mistake of using your joint account to make a reservation at one of the fancier restaurants in the city. You just so happened to be checking the activity of the account that afternoon because you were expecting a reimbursement from a purchase you had made for a client a few weeks before. A simple call to the restaurant confirmed your suspicions that it was a reservation for two. And not even an hour later, you’d received the usual text he sent when he was “working late”. Maybe it was just for business but to verify, you decided to show up at his office an hour before the reservation. Their building was a skyscraper and housed a couple different offices, but when you made it to the 23rd floor and it was pretty desolate your suspicion started rising. You had only visited his office once when he’d first go hired. He had brought you along on a Sunday to help him set up and decorate without disturbing any of his coworkers. The building had been just as vacant as it was tonight. Regardless, you headed over to his office and saw the blinds and door were closed, so you knocked just in case and after not receiving any response you opened it up and peeked inside to find it empty with no sign of him even coming back and you sighed.

The feeling of reality just bitch slapping you across the face was strong, but before you could even start to feel any disappointment your entire body froze when a deep voice came from behind you: “Excuse me, can I help you with something?”

The man before you was striking, it stunned you for a second, suspending time as you looked deep into his furrowed eyebrows. He seemed concerned that a stranger was peeking into the CFO’s office. You were quick to explain that you were Caleb’s wife and were stopping by to see if he wanted a dinner break since he was working late. That’s when he introduced himself as Harry Styles, CEO, and verified that he’d only asked Caleb to stay late twice in the 3 years he’d been working for him. When he saw your face fall he caught on quickly and immediately apologized. You then explained that you had suspicions of Cal’s unfaithfulness for months now and had actually come in to confirm your suspicions. He asked if there was anything he could do to help, but you assured him there was not and went home.

You were devastated initially, but as time went on you were just annoyed that you hadn’t caught on sooner. It seemed so obvious now that you were aware, there was even more damning evidence that you had failed to see before. And well, you were afraid of what this meant for you because Cal was a bit older than you and he had money, and had some personal funds invested in your event planning business. You wanted to fight about it or to get him back, but you had a lot to lose if your marriage ended so you decided to be selfish & just let it be. At least now you knew and you could just start to move on emotionally.

A few months after that interaction with Mr. Styles, Cal had left for a “business trip” with all of the top executives from the office. So you and your friends took a trip to the city to bar hop a bit and much to your surprise, you saw Mr. Styles leaning against the bar and you made your way over and tapped him on the shoulder. When he turned around he was surprised to see you of all people.

“Why’s the CEO of the company not in Tokyo for the all executive business trip?” You had asked with a playful grin.

“Because there’s no business trip to Tokyo.” He responded with a smirk.

You had expected Cal to lie, but the confirmation of it had once again made you close another emotional tie to your husband. Harry had been so kind and ended up buying drinks for you and your friends for the night and even brought you guys into the VIP area with him and his friends.

He was fun, sweet, and very attentive. Even a little flirty with you, dare you say, but you chalked it up to the drinks you’d each had. But as the night progressed your friends and Harry’s friends slowly started disappearing one by one. And nearing 1am it was just you and one of your more drunken friends along with Harry & a couple others from his group. Your friend, Cece, was plastered and you wanted to get her to bed so you thanked Harry for his generosity and let him know that you would be heading out, but he insisted that his car service drop you guys off at your hotel. Your friend ended up passing out in the car and because of this, Harry offered to help you get her up to her room. Once she was safe in her own room for the night Harry walked you up to your room and well, that soon turned into a lot more than you had expected…

… SIX MONTHS EARLIER …

“Thank you so much for helping me get her up here.” You smiled as you held your friend Cecilia’s door open as Harry hurried by, carrying her bridal style to her bed.

“Not a problem.” He assured as he gently set her down. She groaned and stirred a bit, “We should probably leave a bin within reach.” He glanced back to you as the heavy door closed with a loud thud.

“Good thinking.” You smiled as you hurried over to the other end of the room where a trashcan was nestled beneath the desk. You sighed when you saw that the liner had not been put in and was just sitting neatly at the bottom so you bent down to do just that.

Harry didn’t mean to ogle you the way he had been all night, but he couldn’t help himself. You looked absolutely breathtaking and for the life of him, he couldn’t understand how Caleb could just screw you over the way he was. Harry didn’t even know he was married until you had shown up at the building a few months back looking for him. In his eyes Caleb was immature and a complete fool, even if he was 15 years his senior. Because if he had someone like you at his side he would never dream of doing anything to jeopardize that.

“Alright, that’s all set.” You said as you put the garbage can by Cecilia’s bedside, flicked on the bedside lamp, and then turned around to smile at him.

“Well at least she had a lot of fun.” He said as you started making your way out of the room.

“Exactly.” You giggled as you shut off the big lights and opened up the door and you both made it back into the hall. You walked to the elevator in a comfortable silence and then stopped before it, you turned to him to say goodnight.

“Are you up or down?” He asked you as he walked up to the buttons on the wall.

“Up. Much to my displeasure.” You mumbled and he smiled.

“Scared of heights?” He asked and you nodded in confirmation, “Me too. I hate that my office is all windows.” He said with a chuckle, “First time I got in there I decided to look out of it and I got a spell of vertigo for a few hours.” He admitted and you frowned a bit.

“Oh wow, so it’s bad.”

“Yeah, awful.” He confirmed just as the elevator chimed to indicate it’s arrival.

“You don’t have to take me up, I know it’s late and-”

“No, it’s alright. Just want to make sure you get in safe.” He assured as you both stepped inside.

“Thanks, that’s sweet of you.” You smiled as you pressed the button to the 15th floor.

“It’s nothing.” He assured you with a smile, “Ummm…you can tell me to fuck off if I’m prying, but I guess I’ve just noticed that you don’t seem all that upset about Caleb cheating and lying to you about his whereabouts.” He said and you sighed.

“I was at first, after I went to the office?” You reminded and he nodded, “But I then decided that it was out of my hands and like…I don’t know, it’s not that I don’t love him enough, but I just…don’t want to fight and if all this is is like a fling or midlife crisis,” you giggled, “It’ll sort itself out.” You explained and he hummed. “It might also have a lot to do with everyone telling me that marrying and older man was a bad idea.” You admitted with a slight smile and he did as well.

“So no one was supportive?”

“Not really.” You confessed.

“How old are you now, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“30, turning 31 soon.” You said.

“Oh, I just turned 31! It’s just as annoying.” He assured and you giggled.

“Good. People’ve been a lot more invested in my personal life since I turned 30.”

“Oh yeah…"when are you getting married?", "Are you going to have children?", "When are you going to start acting your age?"…” he recited all of the same questions people seemed to concerned to know the answers to and you chuckled.

“Exactly.” You hummed, “I mean, I was 24 when we got married. Literally fresh out of grad school. That same summer.” You said and he hummed in understanding.

“Did you date long?”

“A year and a half or so? We met at an entrepreneurial convention and I was manning a booth for the place I was working at, at the time and we just got to talking. You know how he can just get along with anyone…” you explained and he nodded. “I did fall hard and fast…but I mean, I think he just wanted to snatch me up before I lost interest or something because I wasn’t in a rush to be married. But he seemed to be and well, I agreed because I did love him-er I do, sorry! I do love him.” You corrected yourself, feeling a bit shocked by your fumble.

“I mean, feelings can change.” Harry pointed out.

“Yeah…I mean, clearly his have.” You said as the doors opened up on your floor.

“I mean, sounds like yours have too a bit.” He said as you started guiding him down the hall.

“I think you made a mistake in walking me to my room. I’m pretty deep in.” You explained, changing the subject and he smiled at you.

“It’s no bother. I quite like talking to you.” He said and you smiled up at him.

“I ummm…like talking to you too, Harry.” You assured him. “So what about you? Any lucky lads or ladies?” You asked him and he chuckled.

“Hmmm, sometimes, but not to any serious capacity. I’m always so busy with the firm.” He explained, “It’s not like I don’t want that though…I just want to make sure that when I do have that it’s…as right for me as possible. I don’t know, not so big on wasting people’s time, you know? Like if I were in your shoes I would make a fuss and try to get even in someway…” he said and you chuckled.

“So vengeful!” You teased.

“Well you’re married to the guy! You made a commitment to each other, you know? It’s just disrespectful in my opinion. If something changed for him then he should say that instead of sneaking off with someone else, you know?”

“I wholeheartedly agree.” You concurred as you made another turn, “But if I were to “get him back” or give him a taste of his own medicine I’m just not sure that it would make anything better for me at least.” You explained as you slowed down as you reached your door, “Like, do I think bout it sometimes, yeah! Of course I do.” You chuckled, “But I don’t think it would impact him in any way. I wouldn’t advertise it to him either, you know?” You explained as you glanced down and opened up your bag to search for your key.

“Well if not to get back at him then just for yourself. I mean, if he’s out there getting his ego boosted by who knows who, why wouldn’t you?” Harry asked and you smiled as your eyes flickered up to his.

“I mean…thankfully, I don’t think I need that validation from anyone else.” You explained and he smiled a bit, “I know who I am and I am happy with who I am, in every way. And, not to sound arrogant, but I know what I bring to the table as a partner and if that’s not enough for someone then… their loss.” You concluded with a simple shrug.

“You’re absolutely extraordinary.” He said softly, as if he were in awe of you. You felt your cheeks warming as all of the blood rushed to your face at his compliment and you looked away. Bashfully shaking your head as if that would help ward off the feeling his compliment elicited from you.

“Hardly.” You said lowly and suddenly his hands were on your face and he was tilting you up to look up at him. His touch was gentle as his eyes flickered back and forth over your own.

“You are, Y/N.” He assured you softly and you felt like your were on cloud 9, your hands grabbed around his wrists firmly, “If I had you, I would never be so careless with you.” He said with so much conviction.

His words made your heart beat wildly and your insides melt. You were so affected by him, it was getting hard to keep yourself together in his presence. He was overwhelming in the best way and you wanted to feel completely immersed in the energy that he exuded. The attraction that was brewing between the two of you was reaching its boiling point. It was getting hard to ignore the signals of desire that your body had been giving off since you started hanging out earlier. But now, the subtlety was gone…your pupils were blown wide, his were as well. You were running hot all over, but particularly between your legs, you were so wet for Harry, you were certain that your panties were an absolutely sticky mess at the crotch.

“I think I-uh…sh-should ummm…get inside.” You stumbled on such simple words because you were trying so hard to just behave for another few seconds.

“Yeah.” He agreed, but neither of your were letting each other go. “Did you find your room key?” He asked and you nodded.

“S’in my purse.” You assured and he nodded and reluctantly let you go.

“Good.” He smiled as you dug back into your little bag and retrieved it to show him, “Alright, in you go.” He said softly and you turned around and slid the key into the slot, waiting for it to turn green so that you could turn the handle. He was quick to step forward and help you push the heavy door open.

“Thank you.” You hummed as you stepped past the threshold and turned to face him again, “Thank you for literally everything. The drinks, the laughs, the ride, the chat…” you smiled at him and he returned the friendly gesture.

“It was my pleasure.” He assured you.

“I had a lot of fun tonight.” You smiled.

“Me too.” He confirmed, still standing at the door. Neither of you made a move to retreat.

“Ummm, can I…hug you?” You asked through a timid giggle and his dimples carved deep into his cheeks.

“Of course you can.” He said and you were quick to pull the latching lock out so that the door wouldn’t shut on you when he let it go.

You were going to hug around his body, but he hunched down at bit so you could reach him better, which resulted in your arms draping over his shoulders. Harry’s arms then naturally wrapped around your waist and as you closed the gap between your bodies you relaxed into his hold for a few seconds, leaning your head against his. He smelled divine, you were tempted to take a big inhale of him but decided against it almost instantly.

You initiated the pull back and your hands rested on his shoulders, your noses nearly brushing from how close you were. You started to close the gap as your eyes fluttered down to his lips and he nudged your face to the side a bit, allowing him to fit his face better against yours. "What am I doing?" Was the last thought you had before your eyes fluttered closed and your lips met his in a sensual kiss. You two pulled back almost instantly, lust and longing clouding your minds to a dangerous degree. But before you could decide against it, you tugged at the collar of his shirt as your lips smeared together urgently once again. One of his arms remained around your body as the other pushed the room door open until you were both shrouded in darkness. He blindly flipped back the latch and as soon as the heavy door closed your body was up against it as his hands found your face and held you in place as your kiss started to deepen.

You hadn’t been fucked in at least four months by that point and with the attraction that you felt towards Harry, you didn’t care that you were married. After all, Cal had already tainted the marriage with his own affair… with this in mind you just gave in. You licked into his mouth and he ended up moaning before he shoved his tongue past your lips. You guided his hands to the parts of your body that craved that long missed masculine touch. His hands felt bigger than Caleb’s and he was groping at your bottom the second you guided his hands there. He stayed there for a few minutes as you kissed heatedly, but soon he started to slide his hands up your body. He was intentional as he felt and familiarized himself with the curves and dips of your body. Your skin was tingling from his attention and buzzing in anticipation of where his curious hands would travel to next. You immediately got dizzy when his right hand landed over your neck and started to tighten a bit around your throat.

“Harder.” You begged breathily and he sighed in relief before squeezing harder against the sides as you kissed sloppily.

You felt him trying to nudge your legs apart with his knee so you parted them and as he pressed closer you whined when you felt his thigh nudged against your center just a bit. You needed more though, you were greedy for it and ground down against him and he flexed his quad, the bulge of his muscle created a surface of better friction for you and you moaned as you started to go faster. You immediately felt the turning up of his lips as he smirked, more than glad that you were so eager for it.

“Better?” He asked and you nodded, “Good. Get what you need, Y/N.” He hummed before he pressed his forehead to yours. Your pants and soft moans were heating up the minimal space between your faces but he seemed to be enjoying this as much as you were. You were clinging to his shoulders for dear life as you humped at his thigh to your heart’s content and Harry would have it no other way.

Harry only wanted one thing and that was to get you off as many times as were physically possible. You deserved the world on a silver platter and he was determined to give you whatever you would let him tonight. How could anyone in their right mind neglect someone as gorgeous, smart, and extraordinary as you? He didn’t get it…how anyone could neglect your body or choose another’s…that’s why any guilt he felt about this immediately evaporated. His other hand was securely latched at your waist, keeping you steady as you used him to get off. He wanted you to do whatever you wanted, whatever you needed to feel good.

You were so determined! You wanted to come so badly and were doing everything in your power to cling to that little spark of pleasure that would shoot down your legs and make you shudder each time your clit rubbed against his thigh. The slick mess in your panties caused the glide to be smoother and so you started grinding with more intention until your jaw was dropping open as you moaned in celebration of your impending orgasm.

“I’m- oh, I’m coming!” You got out as you lost your rhythm and fell forward into his chest and Harry’s hands went to your hips. You continued grinding wildly to draw out the pleasure of your orgasm as much as possible. Harry was encouraging you with his words while his strong body kept you steady as your legs grew weary from the orgasm that had just taken you out. Your ragged breathing and the pulsing of your pussy were synced with the beating of your heart, you swore he could hear it as well and you tried to straighten up.

“S’alright, I’ve got you. Holding you nice and tight, just take some deep breaths, baby.” He said cooly as you tried to recover.

As the seconds passed your inhales finally became deeper and you were able to relax into Harry’s hold. He was patient, waiting for you to make a move to regain your strength.

“Jeez, I haven’t come like that since I was a teenager.” You confessed through a giggle and he chuckled.

“Is that a good or bad thing?” He asked and you glanced up at him.

“I’m not sure…I just hadn’t been so turned on that I was able to.” You said and he grinned.

“Are you saying I turn you on more than your husband?” He asked haughtily, a satisfied glint in his eyes.

“No, no, no…Don’t do that to me.” You responded through a nervous laugh and he chuckled.

“You’re right, that was low. Sorry.” He apologized and you smiled.

“It’s alright.” You assured him, he could still see the lust glazing over your gaze. “Can I return the favor though?” You asked him, more than ready to do your best for him.

“Can I make you come again first?” He asked and your eyes widened a bit.

“Again?” you questioned him and he nodded.

“Yes, again.” He said as he started walking you back deeper into the room, “And again, and again, and again until your poor, little pussy can’t take anymore.” He said before kissing you deeply. You moaned at his dirty words and gasped when the backs of your legs were met with the edge of bed. You fell back and he climbed over you, still kissing you fervently.

His big hands slid up your thighs, helping you part them around his body so that he could get even closer still and the moment you felt the seizable bulge in his pants pressing near your center you felt an impatience to feel and see what he had to offer you. Of course, his company was lovely, but you were absolutely touch starved and in dire need of a good fucking. Your hands slid back to his firm bottom and you pressed him deeper against you still. His grin broke the kiss and you opened your eyes to meet his playful gaze.

“Cheeky little thing.” He smiled and you only offered a shrug to excuse your handsiness. "Are you still okay with this?” He asked you and you bit your lip to suppress the grin that was threatening to take over your face.

“I don’t know but I want it. Need it.” You said and his gaze softened a bit.

“How long’s it been?” He asked you and you sighed.

“Since I’ve been fucked? Four months.” You said and he looked displeased.

“I mean since you’ve come.”

“Since I’ve come? Not by my own devices…?” you said and he chuckled, “I honestly don’t remember.” You confessed and now he just looked flat out offended at this.

“You’re lying…”

“Why would I lie about that?” You giggled.

“And even after that you haven’t cheated?” He asked with a chuckle and you shrugged.

“Well, I am now.” You said and he smiled.

“Well I’m definitely following through on what I said before. Gotta help you make up for lost time.” He smiled and you playful rolled your eyes at him. “Nuh-uh, none of that bratty stuff.” He said to you and you grinned.

“After everything I’ve been through?” You asked and he grinned.

“Pulling that card are you?”

“Of course.” You smiled and he bit down on his lip, “What?” You asked him.

“You’re just so fucking pretty.” He said, voice soft and sweet.

“Ummm, thanks.” You responded softly. You suddenly felt so small beneath him.

“Yeah, of course.” His smirk was giving you butterflies. His hand started trailing up your thigh, making its way to your center. When he finally reached your panties he did his best to contain his amusement at just how wet you were for him. “Shit.” He whispered lowly as his eyes met yours.

“I know…” you giggled, “M’so wet for you.” You whispered back and immediately wriggled a bit when you felt him slide the material to the side and soon the warmth of his fingers were making direct contact with your slit.

“Say it again.” Harry asked, his lips tickling against yours as he made his request.

“I’m so wet for you, Harry.” You said again, practically tingling in anticipation. He could feel your arousal seeping through as he ran his fingers down to where your entrance was. Harry almost moaned at how sopping wet you were, you’d made a proper mess for him and he didn’t even ask before kissing you hard and then sliding down to the ground.

“Harry, what’re you- Oh my god…” You gasped breathily when his thick tongue pushed into your entrance. Your eyes fluttered closed and your fingers buried into his hair as he started to bury his face against you even more, he was nuzzling against you, his nose bumping against your clit a few times before he licked up the entirety of your pussy and then dexterously used it to flick at your clit until your body started to turn to mush, “Oh fuck...that’s so fucking good…” you praised him and when he started to gently suck at you, your vision started to blur and your abs to tense. You would be mortified by how quickly you were building up to an orgasm if everything that he was doing wasn’t distracting you from having a singular thought apart from “Keep sucking”.

He moaned against you as your orgasm starting to take over you. It made you come harder to know that he was enjoying it as much as you were because even as you were withering, he never stopped. He did slow down enough to let you come down from it all but when he’d realized that you’d caught your breath you felt his fingers teasing at your entrance. You parted your legs further, non-verbally communicating to him that you wanted him to finger you. He kissed at your inner thigh and you smiled as you felt him sucking at you.

“Are you-”

“Yeah. S’just for you, for the memories.” He hummed before he sucked a bit more, ensuring that he left a dark hickey and you giggled, but soon your breath was hitching as he laved at your clit as he introduced his index finger first, feeling it out to see what you were able to handle.

It did feel nice, but you needed more. He wasn’t stingy when you asked for it, instead he rewarded you with his middle finger as well. His hands were so big, so this did make a difference. He was feeling around with his fingers, searching for your spot.

“Just a little bit deeper.” You said as you propped yourself up on your elbows to be able to see him.

“I’m not hurting you?” He asked. His tenderness was making your heart flutter.

“No, I’m alright. Now just curl your fingers into- Oh fuck… r-right there!” You encouraged through a bright smile and he grinned as he watched your head fall back onto the bed. He started to go a bit harder until your legs started to tense up, soon enough they were trembling as your toes curled and you started to come once again. You couldn’t believe how good you felt. Beautiful colors were bursting behind your closed eyelids as you rode the wave of pleasure you had been so fortunate to catch. You could practically hear the blood roaring in between your ears at how hard your heart was beating. And the longer he kept his fingers pumping inside of you the longer your orgasm lasted. You whimpered as your legs shook from yet another orgasm as he expertly prodded his fingers into your g-spot.

“Good girl…come for me.” Harry spurred you on.

You genuinely felt like you were going to explode because he had found the perfect pleasure point and it’s like you couldn’t be turned off. You felt so much pressure building inside of you, it was making your back arch and your legs shake and your moans to pour incessantly from your mouth, but you couldn’t ask him to stop. It felt too good to put an end to it yet. Fingering had always done wonders for you, but add to that a partner who’s intentional about it, and well your body will do things you never thought it capable of. Again, he’d give you small breaks to help you catch your breath and start up again. Your entire body felt like it was vibrating as he built you up again. Your hips thrusting to try meet his fingers, hoping to feel him deeper as he fucked you with them and used his mouth to lick and slurp at your clit until your body was going limp once again as you came. This time there were no colors, just white as your ears rang.

But then you gasped as he pushed himself to stand, his body loomed over yours and a he gave you mischievous grin before he started pounding his long, thick fingers inside harder and faster than before, never failing to miss the spot you showed him. And as his dark eyes met yours with a hungry gaze you felt completely lost. You could feel your poor little pussy throbbing as he started to work you up to the summit of pleasure again, but this time it felt even bigger than before. You had that pins and needles feeling tickling up your legs and to your core, but it felt like it was coming from the inside. Fighting to get out.

“Gonna come again. I can feel it.” He said lowly. The deep tones of his voice settled over you like the warmest hints of sunlight, making you feel toasty from the inside out.

“It feels…fuck, it feels like so much.” You whimpered.

“I know, baby. You’re gonna squirt for me, aren’t you?” He asked and you nodded furiously at the insane pressure threatening to just explode, “Come on then, give it to me. Show me how good it feels, Y/N.” He hummed with a subtle arrogance that you swore was the thing that did you in or maybe it was that he suddenly started to rub your clit with his thumb. Your head fell back into the mattress and your back arched for a few seconds before the fireworks took over. You couldn’t contain your moans and cries as you felt yourself quite literally exploding with your orgasm. He held one of your legs open with his free hand, taking in as your writhed in pleasure, gushing cum for him. He started to slow down, but you had so much more. It’s like a part of you that had been repressed was finally free.

“D-don’t stop! Not yet! I-I need more!” You begged breathily.

“How about I fuck the rest out of you?” He asked instead as his fingers slowed down and rubbed into that spot. You immediately nodded and he was quick to lean over you and attach your lips together.

You helped each other get undressed and then he fetched a condom from his wallet before texting his driver to dismiss him for the night. In the meantime you made yourself useful and grabbed two towels from the bathroom to put under you. Already you felt wobbly on your legs and Harry was more than pleased. You watched with a salivating mouth as he rolled the condom down his long and deliciously thick shaft. He stroked himself a few times and it made your walls flutter in excitement.

“Grab a pillow for me, please?” He asked you nodded and reached back, blindly feeling around until your fingers grazed the corner of one and pulled it down, “Thank you. Hips up for me.” He said softly and you did as he directed. You’d heard of this before, never really certain of whether this worked or not, but you guessed you were about to find out. He tucked it beneath you, asking a few times if it was comfortable for you until it was positioned just right.

And from one moment to the next the reality of this situation dawned on you and your excitement turned into hesitation. You were suddenly anxious about this…were you really about to cheat on Caleb? Your husband. With his boss? It just felt like the most surreal situation and when you finally got out of your head Harry was looking at you with a tenderness in his eyes.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He said and you swallowed thickly, “I’m sorry if I…caused a lapse in judgement or-” he was cut off as you tugged him down by the neck and kissed his lips with so much need. You didn’t want him to feel bad for this. This total stranger, basically, had shown you more attention and kindness than your own husband had in ages. And you talked yourself out of believing that this was for revenge on Cal. No, this was for you. You wanted it, you needed it desperately. Even more so as you felt the tip of his cock tickling at your labia as he hovered over your body. His hands were securely on your hips. But you parted your legs further, to let him rest against your entrance.

“You sure?” His question was mumbled against your mouth and you nodded.

“Yes. I’m sure.” You reassured him of your decision. “I’m just…nervous.” You confessed. “Like…I never thought I would be in this situation.” you said through a breathy giggle.

“Yeah, this is definitely a unique situation.” He agreed with a smile on his lips.

“I guess I just need you to know that…like I’m not a bad person.” She said and he shook his head.

“I don’t think that you are, Y/N.” He assured, “I think that you’re fun, smart, sweet, strong, and beautiful…or at least from what I’ve seen.” He said softly, “If anything I’m the bad person for…not giving a fuck that you’re married.” He chuckled and you did as well.

“If it helps I don’t think you’re a bad person either.” You assured him and he smiled before he kissed you again.

“Mmm…you might after I’m done with you. Gonna ruin you for my cock.” He smirked as he started to push inside.

Your eyes fluttered closed as he started to stretch out your entrance with the thick head. “Fuck you’re tight.” He hummed in delight as he added more pressure with his hips. He was just starting to wonder when the tight ring of muscles would give when they did, and the leaking and sensitive head of his cock was sucked into your delicious little pussy. You moaned together in relief as he surged forward, not able to wait for your to accommodate to his intrusion. He just needed to get in you, it was like he had lost all self-control; forcefully spreading your walls apart with his girth and then finally settling inside of you fully. You whimpered at how deep he was and he shifted his hips a bit, doing his best to find the spot that had you in puddles for him.

“Oh god…” you sighed in relief when his cock finally found your spot. Your thighs squeezed around his hips to push him in as deep as possible. You swore he was in your stomach and it hurt so good. “Fuck me. Just fuck me, Harry.” You implored and he wasted no time in giving in to your request.

His thrusts were hard and merciless. It almost felt like with each deep thrust he was knocking the air from your body. You felt drunk and dizzy on his cock as he pounded into your spot so hard that your vision started to blur. Before you even realized it your walls were spasming around his erection and your were writhing around with an unexpected orgasm.

When Harry felt you tighten up he grinned and moaned at the feeling of you coming around him so suddenly. He was mesmerized by the way your tits bounced with each powerful thrust. He was melting for your pretty and whiny sounds of approval and of the sound of his name being uttered and moaned from your lips with so much gratitude.

“Shit…” he swallowed thickly as his cock slipped out from how wet you were now. He quickly guided himself back inside of you, thrusting in the way you had liked and then started rubbing your clit as well. He chuckled as he felt your legs trembling around his hips as you came yet again. His own legs felt like they were about to give, so he slowed down and wrapped his arms around you before carrying you higher up the bed so that he could kneel on the mattress. “Get on your tummy for me.” He said and you did as you were asked, “Let’s get this under you…there you go.” He said as he placed the pillow back under you and you got the chills when you felt his fingers rubbing against your entrance the up to your bum, rubbing against your much tighter hole. Then you felt the weight of his cock back at your entrance and he slowly pushed inside. You squeezed the comforter in your fists as his cock somehow felt even bigger than it had before. You literally gasped and he moaned as he gave a few testing thrusts before some part of you just opened up and let him bottom out, that one did make you yelp. “Alright?” He asked.

“Yes, it’s just so fucking big.” You mumbled into the bedding and he grinned.

“Yeah it is, but you’re taking it all so well.” He assured you as he started to grind into you and your were paralyzed. "Fuck baby, take all of me." he grunted in time with his thrusts. He was right up against your favorite spot this way and it was making you feel loopy as it was stimulated over and over and over again. He wasn’t even going hard, he was just focusing all of his efforts into getting that spot and well, he seemed to be enjoying it too as he moaned and groaned above you. “Fuck you feel so good…you’re so fucking good.” He moaned with a satisfied smile.

You had never come vaginally as much as you had tonight and these orgasms were different than the clitoral ones you typically had. These orgasms felt bigger and like it was taking your whole body to achieve them. Your mind was blanking every single time…and this one was going to be the end of you, you were sure. You could feel yourself throbbing around his cock hard. He started to gyrate his hips and you literally gasped.

“There? Is that it?” He asked with a smirk you couldn’t see, but it was evident from his tone.

“Yes, right there! You’re going to make me come!” You warned and he hummed and put more of his weight over you. You welcomed it and your heart nearly beat out of your chest as one of his hands slid up your arms and to your hand. You let his fingers interlace with yours and squeezed as you got closer and closer to your orgasm. It was absolutely overwhelming as you cried out in ecstasy as your orgasm literally crawled up from your toes to the top of your head. Every part of you was hyperaware and feeling tingly as your mind floated freely in gratification. You were covered in goosebumps and your limbs felt like jell-o as he fucked you through it. You were reeling, completely pliant in his arms and as soon as you started to come down from that incredible orgasm he started to thrust into you nice and deep not letting your orgasm end. His thrusts were timed so perfectly, you were trembling and begging him for more, so he gave you more. He went harder and deeper as he shifted to straddle you and fuck you like that. You were basically weeping as he fucked two more orgasms out of you like this, it just felt so good you couldn’t even stop it. Your body was just responding to it and you were so out of sorts.

“One more like this and I’ll give you a break, baby. Just one more, can feel your little pussy squeezing me, throbbing around my big cock.” He said and you moaned, practically drooling on yourself and the bed by now.

It’s like you had no say over it, you just surrendered to the feelings and let yourself drown in them with no shame or remorse. That last orgasm was earth-shattering. You were vibrating uncontrollably as your ears rang and the tears slipped from your eyes even though they were screwed shut. You were just grunting in time with each hard thrust he delivered into you until your come was gushing and spurting out of you. You were gasping because the intensity of it all made you feel like your were free falling. It was soaking his cock as he moaned and then pressed inside as deep as he could before he came undone, filling the condom with his come but wishing he could’ve just unloaded in that tight, sweet pussy of yours. His hands pushed you deeper into the mattress, making it just a little bit harder to breathe and that somehow made it all the better. When he finished, he relaxed his body he just fell over you, covering you in his warmth. Time felt suspended as you both caught your breaths. You swore that mentally you weren’t all there now and wouldn’t be for a bit.

“Am I crushing you?” He whispered, this words tickling the shell of your ear and you smiled, eyes still closed because to you, it felt like the room was spinning.

“Yes, but in a good way.” You hummed bad tiredly.

“In a good way…” he repeated lazily through a playful smile.

“Mhmm.” you said and then your smile widened as his fingers found yours and interlaced with yours again. He shifted a bit and you rolled along with him so that you were on your sides now. His cock was still softening up and you were grateful that he wasn’t quick to just pull out and go. As much as you needed a fuck, you also needed the tenderness and affection of another person and he seemed to understand that. You tangled your legs with his and he squeezed your fingers before pulling your closer into his body.

“Was that alright?” He asked softly and you laughed a bit.

“I’m like…mentally on another planet…I feel like I’m floating… so yeah, I’d say that was alright.” You whispered and he laughed a bit.

“Good.” Is all he said.

When you had come down enough he proceeded to get back between your legs. His tongue and mouth were a lot more gentle this time around and again, he made you come several more times until your body was so sore that you just couldn’t give any more. You sucked him off eagerly and made him come once more before you both passed out. You woke up around 7am when his alarm went off, but instead of seizing the day he fucked you once more, bare, and it was your turn to mark him up. You were so exhausted that you flaked out on breakfast with your friends and didn’t wake up again until just shy of midday.

“Feel free to shower if you need to.”

“Yeah, I think I will.” Harry said lazily as he checked his phone.

“Mmmkay. I’m gonna order something in, do you want anything?” You asked him through a yawn.

“Will we have time?”

“Yeah, I’ve got a late check out.” You assured.

“Oh alright.” He smiled, “What’re you having?”

“Probably some eggs and pancakes and well coffee. I’m quite drained.” You said with a smile.

“I’ll have the same. Eggs over easy though.” He said as he stretched.

“Oh, same!” You smiled as you rolled over to reach the telephone and he hopped in the shower while you place the call.

Thankfully nothing was tense or awkward which you appreciated. Harry didn’t take long, so you were able to get showered as well and had literally just stepped out in your robe when Harry was placing the tray down on the little table in your room. You guys made conversation, he asked about your business and what kinds of events you liked to do, if you were interested in any other ventures. It was very, very normal. You were just waiting for the bubble to be burst by the metaphorical needle that was your reality…that being that you were a married woman who had just cheated on her husband, but it hadn’t come… and whether it did or not, this couldn’t happen again. Maybe when you were out of his presence and left alone with your thoughts, because you liked him way too much to feel anything bad at the moment. You thought it would happen when it came time for him to go, but that wasn’t how your goodbye went at all.

“Umm…before I go I just think we need to…debrief a bit.” He said and you smiled at him.

“Yeah, sure.” You agreed easily.

“I mean…I like you, I think we’re very compatible and like…we just have a connection I think.” He said and you nodded, “And I mean…I can’t say I respect Caleb as a husband and a man after…hearing what he’s put you through, but I still respect him as my employee and obviously what he does outside of work isn’t really my business.” Harry spoke clearly and concisely, but he was looking for any signs of distress from you at this but you were just nodding.

“Yeah, I agree 100%. Like, thank you…for hearing me out and…helping me out, but obviously this is not something that can happen again. And well, I like you too, a lot.” You said and he smiled a bit, “I just don’t want you to walk away thinking that I just used you to get back at him, you know? And I mean…I don’t think us running into each other often will even be an issue. He doesn’t ever want me involved in any of his work stuff.” You said simply and he nodded.

“Right. Well, I did have a great time with you and ummm…I don’t regret it. I hope you don’t either.” He said more meekly and you shook your head.

“Nope, no regrets.” You assured him with a smile, “Thank you though, again for everything. You’re a really wonderful person, Harry.” You said and he smiled bashfully at your compliment. Moments later you were ensuring he had all of his things as you walked him to the door and you guys hugged briefly before he made his way out into the hallway and gave you one final wave before he was gone and disappearing amongst all of the strangers in New York City.

… PRESENT DAY …

As was expected, you hadn’t seen or even heard anything about Harry since then, just like before. But one thing you couldn’t help but notice was that now Caleb was around a lot more. Well, it took a few months after the whole thing with Harry, but it felt like things were going back to how they had been before. You had no idea what had happened between him and his mistress, but it couldn’t have been good because he was suddenly so present and even doting on you like when he was first trying to convince you to go out with him. And on this particular night you were in the middle of doing your skincare routine before bed when Cal came into the en-suite, just in from the office.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He hummed and kissed your cheek in passing.

“Hi, how was your day?” You asked as he undid his tie.

“Really fucking good.” He grinned, “So on Saturday we’re gonna have a celebratory dinner for a deal that we closed. It’s not everyone from work, but a few of the guys. S’nothing official, just those of us who did the grunt work to get this client. Do you have plans?” He asked as he moved on to his shirt now.

“Nope, no plans. Why?” You asked in confusion, as your eyes met through the mirror.

“Obviously I want you to join, sweetheart. If you want to.” He smiled in confirmation.

“Oh, sure!” You said quickly, “I’d love to.” You happily accepted his invitation.

“Excellent! It’s formal wear, we’re doing a fancy dinner.” He grinned, “So get yourself something nice in the next few days yeah?” He said.

“Oh, ok. Is there like a specific vibe I should go for?” You asked as you turned to him and he came over to you and grabbed your face gently.

“Hmm…” he hummed pensively, “I’d say something sexy, but really classy. S’gonna be the first time you meet my work friends. Wanna show you off, gloat a bit.” He said to you, voice low and sultry.

“Okay…do I have to wear a bra with it?” You asked and he chuckled before kissing your lips deeply. After a few moments he pulled back with a smirk as his thumbs ran over the apples of your cheeks lovingly.

“Mmmm, I’d prefer you ditch it for the night…but that’s just my opinion.” He grinned and you chuckled, “Probably pack a bag for overnight in case we get a little too wasted, yeah?” He asked and you nodded in confirmation, “Alright sweets, m’gonna hop in the shower.” He said before letting you go.

Needless to say, you were shocked. Hell must’ve been frozen over because Cal never even took you to the office holiday parties! So of course you accepted his invitation before he could take it back. Seeing Harry at this dinner had definitely crossed your mind almost instantly, but from what you knew, he didn’t really socialize with his colleagues outside of work so you got the possibility of seeing him again out of your head. Specially now that it seemed like Cal had made it past whatever midlife crisis he had been suffering. Maybe it was about time that you put the fantasies on the back burner and focused back on your husband. After all it seemed that he was extending an olive branch with this invitation. Making up for lost time and for his distancing from you. And well, in the interest of perhaps seeing Harry again in the future, you wanted to really wow his coworkers and make sure that you scored more invitations to work things.

*********

You had spent your lunch hours for the next few days scouring all the boutiques in your suburb for a dress that made you feel sexy but that wasn’t too slutty or suggestive. Always in the back of your mind asking yourself if Harry would like it, but then bringing yourself down from that hopeful cloud. You had found a dress that you loved and bought it, but despite that, you had walked into one more shop before heading back to your house.

You were looking through the racks when a beautiful magenta fabric caught your eyes and when you pulled it out of the bunch you immediately smiled at the dress it belonged to. It was a halter neck, which you would never typically go for, but you could already envision it on your body. There was a slit and the back had a little cutout that you imagined would serve to draw the gaze to the curve of your lower back and ultimately your bottom. The dress you had just purchased was a lot more understated, it flattered your shape and was definitely a less showy color, but you were practically drooling over this dress. It was gorgeous.

“It’s stunning isn’t it?” The clerk suddenly appeared beside you with a smile.

“Yeah…” you smiled at her.

“Want to try it on?” She asked with an enticing arch in her eyebrow.

“Absolutely.” You responded almost too quickly and she smiled and grabbed it for you and guided you over to the changing room. "Oh my god..." you sighed dreamily.

You were a vision in it. The color just livened you up and made you feel electric, powerful, and sensational. Your previous dress did make you look elegant and beautiful, but gave more of a demure and understated beauty vibe; it was the kind of dress you’d be expected to go for and typically did. But this other dress, it brought out an air of confidence in you, you could see the difference even in how you posed in it. Caleb did say he wanted to show you off…And well, even if you upstaged the evening, your husband had been having an affair for a year and while he seemed to be coming back to you, it couldn’t hurt to remind him of what he had and perhaps it would help to keep repairing the invisible, but tangible, distance that still existed between the two of you.

“I’ll definitely take it.” You said to the clerk with a smile.

After rushing a few streets down, you returned the other dress and then hurried home to your meeting. You’d keep the dress hidden in your closet until Saturday and surprise Cal with it as well.

**********

Cal had been quick to get ready, he didn’t stray too far from his day to day look, he just ditched his tie. You were working on your makeup when he told you that he’d be down in his office when you were ready to go. The dinner was at 7pm and you did have quite a drive according to Caleb, so you hurried to get your look together so that you could get on the road quickly. After spritzing on some setting spray you rushed into your closet and pulled the bag off of your new dress and smiled as soon as you saw it again. You quickly got undressed and slipped into it. You hurried back to the vanity to get a visual to tie the pieces of fabric for the halter top and you were struggling a bit.

“Sweetheart, are you almost-” Caleb’s voice stopped as he just gawked for a moment before he smiled, “Wow.” He said softly as your eyes met though the mirror.

“Yeah? Like it? Is this okay?” You asked timidly and he nodded.

“Yeah. You look great.” He smiled as he came up behind you, “Need some help?”

“Please.�� You responded and he aided in getting the ties situated.

“There you are, my darling. You all packed?” He asked softly and you nodded and allowed him to peck your lips.

“Yeah, my bag’s on the bed.” you said and he smiled.

“Perfect, I’ll take it and go start the car, OK?”

“Yeah, go ahead.” You assured and he went to do that as you wrapped up the final details of getting your shoes on, grabbing your purse, and finally getting on a bit of perfume and tucking a little travel version of it in your bag. You felt like a million bucks for the first time since Harry…and well, it was nice to feel good on your own, not because of another person so this felt so special. Like you were reclaiming yourself in a way. And so with that feeling of confidence making you glow you grabbed the bottle of wine you’d purchased as a gift and locked up the house before you carefully slipped into Cal’s Quattroporte, it was his baby and he’d take it out anytime he was feeling on top of the world. You hoped that you had something to do with it for now.

The GPS indicated that you guys were heading down towards the Hamptons, which was a bit over an hour drive. Cal was conversing with you about your work and clients, which was kind of odd. He never really cared much for your event planning business apart from giving you the start up money. But you soon realized that he was nervous because he was incessantly tapping at the steering wheel and clearly, he was talking with you to keep his mind off of whatever was making him feel this way. You wondered if it was the fact that this was going to be your first time meeting his work friends? You knew that he always tried to create boxes to compartmentalize his life and merging them could sometime be nerve-racking. Instead of letting it trip you up and darken all of the light and positive feelings your were having over this invitation, you decided to just focus on how good you felt.

“Sweetheart, we’re almost there.” Cal’s voice and his firm squeeze to your knee roused you from your slumber. You yawned and rolled your shoulders back.

“Sorry, didn’t realize I fell asleep.” You spoke a bit groggily and he smiled at you.

“God, did you guys rent out the biggest Airbnb?” You asked as you looked out the window. You were driving down the line of mansions by the coast.

“No. Didn’t spend a dime on this getaway thankfully.” He chuckled, “We’re going to the CEO’s vacation home.” He explained and you quickly turned to him.

“The CEO rents out his vacation home in the Hamptons to his employees?” You asked him incredulously, Harry seemed way too Type A for something like that.

“No, sweetheart. Of course not.” He scoffed through a laugh, “He’s the one throwing the party for us.” He explained and your stomach literally turned and you swore you were about to start sweating cold.

“So w-we’re sleeping at your boss’ house? You said it was work friends!” You said to him with panic in your eyes.

“Did I not mention that?” He asked and you shook your head, still in disbelief, “Oh, well either way, Harry’s from work and I mean, we’re not really friends or anything yet, but we’re friendly.” He explained, “And well, considering I just made him half a million dollars richer this week alone I’d say we’re about to get a lot more chummy.” He explained with a cocky grin.

“Cal, my tits are out! No one’s gonna take me seriously now…oh god.” You mumbled lowly and he chuckled.

“It’s alright, s’not like this is an official work event.” He assured you.

But suddenly you didn’t feel so hot in your dress. You didn’t want Harry to think that you wore this dress as soon as you heard it was at his place to impress him or to try and seduce him after you had both agreed that it was a one time thing. Yes, he was hot and you had played with the idea at first, but that’s all it was! An idea. A fantasy that you could keep playing at in your mind but had no intention of following through with. You didn’t seek each other out because you both knew that what had transpired between the two of you so many months ago had been a sort of lapse in judgement that you both just indulged in to do some justice to whatever had been in the air and sparking between you two that entire night. You weren’t a cheater like Cal and you weren’t interested in jeopardizing your marriage because for the last couple of months it felt like you were on the mend and you didn’t want anything to get in the way of that.

“All your coworkers are going to think I’m a whore.” You said with slight irritation and Cal scoffed.

“They will not. You should see some of the women they bring around…”

“I don’t even want to know what that means.” You mumbled lowly. “I just don’t want to make a bad impression or give anyone the wrong idea about…us. You know how people are already and-”

“You worry too much about what other people think, sweetheart. Who cares? If I cared what everyone said or thought I wouldn’t have you, would I?” He asked you with a small smile and well, the fact that his tenderness did nothing to your heart was a bad sign, “I mean, what’s the point of living life if you’re not going to have fun and take risks? You took a fucking risk, sweetheart! And I’d say it payed off.” He grinned at you and you shook your head before looking away to avoid him from seeing you smile at his compliment, “Hey, don’t turn away, look at me, sweets.” He insisted as he squeezed your knee again and you reluctantly turned back to him, “It’s going to be fine. They’re gonna love you.” He assured you and you just exhaled slowly and nodded, forcing a smile onto your face.

Finally, you were pulling up through a large iron gate and following the path down to the entrance of the home. There was a parking attendant that signaled for Cal to pull into one of the lines that had been drawn out for a parking space. Thankfully, there were already other cars there, so you wouldn’t be alone with him and Harry until more guests arrived. As soon as Cal parked the car someone was opening up your door to help you out, it was all very extravagant. You wondered if Harry always had this level of service or if it was just because he had guests tonight.

“Thank you.” You smiled as the man extended his hand and helped you down form the vehicle.

“Certainly. Do you have any bags you’d like us to put in the guest room?”

“Oh sure, they’re in the trunk.” You informed him and he smiled and hurried on to the back. You shot Cal a look and he looked just as surprised at this level of attention and service.

Cal did offer to help carry the bags, but the man insisted he would do it as he led them over to the entrance of the home. There, someone else was waiting and took over for the man that had helped at the car.

“Good evening, Mr. Hargrove.” The man greeted Caleb with a nice smile before slightly glancing to you, “And who-”

“Gerard, this is my lovely wife, Y/N.” He said with a bit of emphasis which was odd, specially when Gerard’s eyes widened a bit in surprise. It shouldn’t have been too much of a shock to her…Harry himself had said that he had no idea Caleb was married.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Hargrove.” Gerard smiled and well, you hadn't actually changed your surname, but you didn't have the heart to correct Gerard. He looked to be a sweet man a already had been thrown for a loop just knowing that you were Caleb's wife.

“Pleasure to meet you, just Y/N is fine though.” You assured with a friendly smile and he nodded once.

“Well, I can escort you to the room you’ll be staying in before guiding you to the dining area?”

“Please, that would be great. I’d like to freshen up a bit”, “That won’t be necessary, just tell me which room.” You and Caleb spoke at the same time and then chuckled.

“Umm, you can go head, honey. I just want to freshen up and use the bathroom before we start drinking. I’ll meet you over there.” You assured him.

“Are you certain?”

“Yeah, of course. Go celebrate with everyone.” You insisted and he smiled and grabbed your face gently before kissing your lips quickly.

“Thanks, sweetheart. See you in a bit.” He assured and you nodded.

“Alright, let me show you to your bedroom.” Gerard said and then he got a bit awkward when you were alone as he guided you down a hallway.

“Ummm Gerard?”

“Yes, miss?”

“You don’t have to be weird around me. I expected that Cal had been here before with another person. Or persons…” you explained as you kept walking.

“Right. Well I’m sorry for making you feel odd, I just had no idea Mr. Hargrove had been married recently.” He said and your smile faltered a bit.

“Umm…it’s been seven years actually.” You said as he stopped in front of a door and turned around quickly with a concerned look on his face. “Ummm, have you worked for Mr. Styles for long?” You asked and he nodded.

“About 15 years.” He stated.

“And Caleb has…stayed here with other women how many times?” You asked him.

“I don’t know that I should-”

“I’m not going to cause a scene, I assure you. I just…I need to figure out if there’s anything worth salvaging after the most recent affair. It’s the only one I found out about.” You explained and he looked sad for you.

“I wish I could tell you for certain, but since he started working for Mr. Styles I uh- I’m really not sure, but there’s been a few. I’m sorry.” He said and you sighed.

“Alright, well thanks anyway. Is this it?”

“Yes, this is the room.” He said as he opened it up and let you in. He came in behind you and set your bags down on the large bed. “You have your own bathroom through here. If you need anything ironed or steamed for tomorrow feel free to just leave it hung up on one of these hooks and we’ll take care of it while you’re at dinner.” He assured.

“Thank you so much, this is gorgeous.”

“Of course, Miss. Anything else?”

“Obviously you’re quite busy, how would I find the dining area after I’m done?” You asked and he quickly explained and you nodded, keeping his directions fresh in your mind before you scurried into the bathroom.

You closed the door behind you and then turned around to look at yourself in the mirror. You took a deep breath and exhaled slowly as all of the information that Gerard had shared with you started to sink in. You started to wonder how long ago the cheating had started…maybe it was before you had even been married. The only good thing that could come of this dinner was seeing Harry again. And well, you knew that he probably wouldn’t even speak to you too much, but at the very least you could just steal discreet glances of him and forget about the fact that your marriage was basically a farce. But that wasn't all Caleb's fault, after all you had also slept with someone else. With his fucking boss of all people. But god, you would do it again if he wanted to...

***********

Caleb was glad that you had headed off to check out the room and freshen up. He had been so in his head about so much that Gerard almost tipped you off about his affairs. He had always been a man who wanted the best, who wanted more…and well when he got you he was shocked that he had managed it. You were everything he had ever wanted in a partner and throw in the fact that you weren’t just after his money, well he snatched you up right away lest he lose you to someone else. It’s not that he wasn’t happy with you and everything you had together, but sometimes he just needed to switch it up, he had always been like that so he never advertised that he was married. And while usually his extramarital affairs were limited to single events for work, things started to change when he met Daniela. Daniela wasn’t as ambitious or entrepreneurial as you were. In fact, she was a midlevel employee and seemed happy in her position. But she was about your age, if not a year or two younger, and yes she was smart and gorgeous in her own way, but she never made an effort to stand out all that much, but she was so good at what she did that she naturally stood out.

He met Daniela two years ago when he was told that she was the most reliable statistical analytics person they had. So he started to go to her to double check all his numbers, a second pair of eyes could never hurt when it came to numbers! But he soon found it helpful to also run all of the data he had for presentations to clients and other board members by her. Daniela was sweet and soft spoken and a bit shy while Cal was a people person. So what started out as him just doing nice things to get on her good side so that she would keep helping him, soon turned into gestures designed to increase their interactions because he liked her. His acts of kindness became motivated by these deeper feelings that he himself couldn’t understand at first because she was the opposite of everything he ever really went for, but they were there. Daniela had started to like his attention and thoughtfulness and so they started to have lunch together often or to get coffee together and the attraction grew.

All of this wooing reached it’s culmination after a Thanksgiving party a coworker threw. Caleb offered to walk Dani to her car and they ended up kissing. And after that they continued to see each other outside of work and Cal started to fall for her. He had pulled her into his project with this new client, so that they could spend more time together but also to get her on Harry’s radar because she was absolutely brilliant. But he had fucked it up; upon realizing the depth of his feelings for Daniela he decided to start writing out some talking points to talk to you about his growing feelings for her and brainstorm how to bring up the topic of a divorce to you. But Dani had no idea he was married, so when she saw that notes on his phone she got angry and broke things off with him. And here he was, months later, still heart broken and longing for Daniela.

“You look beautiful.” Caleb spoke softly as he came up to the bar beside Daniela. She sighed as she recognized his voice.

“What do you want, Caleb?” She asked lowly.

“Just to talk and explain. I want to fix us-”

“There is no more us, Caleb. You’re married and I have a boyfriend now so get over it.” She stated firmly and he sighed.

“Please just…I’m going to end it with her-”

“Caleb, please not tonight.”

“Does that mean we can talk soon?” He asked hopefully and she sighed.

“I don’t know, Cal…I’m just processing all of the lies…I just don’t trust you right now.”

“OK, I understand. I’ll just…give you some space.” He said and she nodded, “I ummm…I want to warn you that I did bring her with me tonight. I stupidly wanted to make you jealous-”

“Jesus, Cal..." she sighed feeling the anxiety starting to churn up her stomach, "Just…keep it together because I don’t want anyone to be suspicious and think I’m a home wrecker.”

“No one even knows I’m married. I like to keep the personal things private. So everyone will be meeting her tonight and learning about...my marital status so-”

“Well I don’t want to meet her. I couldn’t, it's humiliating…” she said lowly and he nodded.

“OK. I won’t introduce you.” He said and she swallowed down that awful feeling of disgust in herself, “I’m really sorry, Dani. For everything.” He said quietly as the bartender came back with her two drinks.

“Thank you.” She smiled to the bar tender and hurried off without acknowledging his apology…again.

“Anything for you sir?” He asked and Caleb sighed.

“Ummm, not right now. Thank you.” He assured and turned around only to see Daniela smiling at the man she had brought with her tonight.

He looked about her age and was quite bulky and strong, very handsome. Caleb couldn’t help but feel insecure as she watched him being introduced to some of the others that approached her. This wasn’t a big group, just about 10 of them or so, but with the plus ones, the group was a bit larger and well, hopefully he could sit somewhere where he could keep an eye on her. He felt his heart lurching in defeat as her boyfriend tucked her hair behind her ear in a delicate motion, she had this piece from her outgrown bangs that really defied her new hair part. He’d done the same thing to her plenty of times before and he wished he could be the one to do it for her now.

Caleb had really tried to smooth things over with Daniela at the very least but she felt so betrayed. Understandably so, and she made it clear to him that she wasn’t ready to forgive him and that she intended to move on with someone else and it hurt that she seemed to be fairing well. Caleb had tried to move on too, to focus back on you and your marriage…hopefully being around you more would reignite the love he once had for you, but it wasn’t happening, he was too far gone.

He was running out of lifelines to salvage his chances with Dani. Earlier in the week, when Tamika (Harry’s assistant/intern) mentioned to him casually that she was excited to meet Daniela’s boyfriend at Harry’s dinner Cal felt his heart darken with anger. And in his anger he decide that he wanted to make Daniela jealous back, which is why he invited you, his wife to this dinner… all to make his mistress jealous. He knew that this was fucked up and unfair to you, but he was in love and he was desperate to get Daniela back however he could and she would be his again tonight. He had no idea how to proceed, but he was certain of one thing, whatever he did to get Dani back had to be done with courage, all the love in his heart, and most important of all, with discretion.

READ PART 2!

---TAG LIST---@sunshinemoonsposts @daphnesutton @gurugirl @sad-avocado @sunflovverharry @angelbabyyy99 @justlemmeadoreyou @permanentllyharry @jessitpwk @cherrysulewski @matildasatellite@keriberi @reveriehs @ottawaoutlander

Let me know if you have feedback or want to be added:)

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annieintheaair · 5 days

Text

I'm not scared of dying lonely, it's the living part that gets me.

So I'm running through airports getting lost, going somewhere I can turn it off, all my baggage in a carry-on.

I eliminated some people from my life last week due to a lack of boundaries. My therapist and I have been working on re-establishing boundaries in my life and I know she didn’t mean for me to remove people but it felt like a painful, yet obvious step.

My mom said I should be flattered that so many guys want to date me. Sure, it’s flattering, but it’s also exhausting trying to maintain friendships with people who don’t seem to understand that you have zero interest in ever dating them. Part of it is specific-- I really don't want to date those people, but part of it is also general-- I can't see myself dating anyone right now. My mom said something on the phone yesterday that made me feel like I'm broken in some way because she said that most people want a relationship. It's not that I don't want one but that I can't put myself back out there again and allow others to hurt me. I honestly don't think my heart could take it even one more time.

When I was younger, back in my 20s, when Dan did stupid things and cheated and hurt me, of course, all of it broke me and of course, all of it had lasting effects on me. My mom told me once that she thought Dan had ruined me because, for a long time, I was so unwilling to even consider dating (and here I am, again). The truth is, nothing really broke me until Dan died. When he passed away two years ago, it made it feel like nothing else mattered. All of the pain I felt over the years was gone, and a new kind of pain arrived. This time, it was a hollowing kind of pain where nothing ever felt like it would fill the void.

Just over two years later, it's still hard. The void still can't be filled and I don't think it ever will. I tried to fill the void with a relationship for months only to realize that I was wasting my time on someone who didn't actually love me. I wanted someone to love me the way that Dan loved me-- endlessly and effortlessly. I wanted someone to know me on all of my good days and bad and still love me anyway.

When I walked away from a relationship in March, it was painful. I felt like there had been so much good there and losing another person in my life was obviously far from ideal. I thought we had a lot of fun together and the good days outweighed the bad. At the end of the day though, I knew, I needed to be with someone who was not only my best friend but someone who loved me unconditionally. I wanted to be with someone who would fight for us. When I walked away and he let me, it confirmed all of the worst feelings, knowing that he didn't actually love me. Someone who loves you will chase you and want to work things out and he didn't.

I feel like the last few years have been filled with so much heartbreak. I swore after Dan died that I would never love someone again but then I met Todd and even though he didn't love me, I know I loved him. Love should always be reciprocated.

I've been trying to stay busy and get more involved in things. I've stuck to yoga for the last year but I'm going back to pilates next week, which I think will be good for me. I recently joined a women's Bible study on Thursday mornings and this morning went to meet a new community group at a local coffee shop. Of course, so far, I'm the youngest one in the group and the only single one. It's okay though because not being married and not having kids should never make me feel disqualified from enjoying life and getting involved. I want to find community.

I've become a "regular" in a lot of things and places I go here again, which has been really nice. I like having routines and feeling a sense of belonging. I've been so busy and so happy to be back that last night, one of my only Friday nights off from work, I was home and had literally nothing to do but watch TV and pass out on my couch until I dragged myself upstairs at 5am. It was lonely and when my neighbor texted me that she and her husband were having a night in watching movies, I was a little jealous. I miss having someone to stay in with, not just go out with. I think that's actually what keeps me away from dating -- having to go through the process again of going out and meeting people when I really just want someone to stay in with me.

Anyway, I'm about to head out with my neighbors for the night so it's time to sign off here.

xoxo

Annie

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straighttohellbuddy · 2 years

Text

die mad about it {Dream/Reader/Sapnap} // Part 1

1. 2020

Summary: A retrospective on the interconnected timeline of Dream, Sapnap, and TV and film star Y/N, via social media.

2020. Dream first mentions having a housemate and refuses to say anything else, and when it turns out Sapnap knows more than he's letting on to his audience, he plays along too. Meanwhile, Y/N brings their housemate to events and yet somehow no-one seems to even know his name.

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly Non-Binary!Reader, early-20s!reader, reader is an incredibly well known film & tv star and has been living with Dream for several months/just over a year. Polyamory.

{ masterpost : 1/3 }

A/N: 3794 words. OKAY HELLO FRIENDS GUESS WHO'S BACK AT IT AGAIN??? its me. but also considering this is already almost 4k i decided that splitting it up into the 3 years was a good call. it's an interesting style but i like it :)

Taglist: @esylwen @ihatesunfl0wers @theghostpeach @rainyaheysoe @magicastle

Taglist is always open! Feel free to message or comment if you'd like to be added! xx

· JUNE ·

In June of 2020, Dream mentions that he has to keep his voice down during a stream, so he doesn't wake his housemate. It is the first time he's mentioned any sort of housemate. He does not mention them again.

Twitter, abuzz, seems to all share the same sentiment:

can you imagine being Dream's roommate? Do you think they know?

· JULY ·

The first trailer for Paramount's upcoming modern, dark fantasy, thriller HELIX, directed by Robert Eggers, and starring Y/N Y/L/N and Amandla Stenberg is released on July 12, 2020. After sweeping the 2019-2020 festival circuit, finally the film will see wider release in mid-November 2020. Described as a stylistic feast, the film appears to accent it's overall Film Noir aesthetics with moments of Psycho-Pop colour and movement, and proffers itself as a deconstruction of the the modern franchise villain. It's an exploration through metaphor of the idea that both the narrative and metanarrative that a villain finds themselves in pushes them to violent extremes in spite of, or even sometimes because of, the valid critiques they make of society, which often bely an anticapitalist agenda. Alongisde this, it offers critique of the modern superhero franchise's thinly-veiled role as military propaganda in Western media. The trailer is set to an orchestral cover of Mother Mother's Body with vocals by Halsey.

· AUGUST ·

In August of 2020, Y/N attends the premiere of their new movie, The New Mutants, seen here on the red carpet with Co-Star Charlie Heaton, accompanied by a friend, who declined to share his name for privacy reasons.

Twitter user @.Y/NS_EYELASH posted the following, among retweeting other, similar supportive sentiments from fellow users:

I love Y/N knowing their needs, cos I saw an interview they did a few years ago talking about how they need someone to help them stay grounded and not anxious on red carpets /1 | but also the fact that they brought their housemate, who is for all intents and purposes Just Some Guy, who won't even give his name? Yes King, Give Us Nothing /lh /2

Several tabloid articles are written speculating about the nature of Y/N and their housemate's relationship. Y/N does not respond, but does like several tweets that discuss how the media bastardises friendships and can ruin them.

----

On an alternate channel stream on August 31st, 2020, Sapnap confirms that both himself and George know, have spoken to, and consider themselves friends with Dream's housemate, but claims 'it's a bit weird sometimes, you know...' and though he trails off, he does not elaborate.

The exact reason about what Sapnap find weird about it all and why is hotly debated for a solid week. The reigning theory is jealousy that the housemate is able to see Dream in person.

· OCTOBER ·

In October 2020, at the beginning of a Zoom interview with MTV, the interviewer gives an offhand compliment about their setup and background. Y/N laughs and admits that they asked their housemate's friends for advice, and that the microphone itself is their housemate's; he also lets them borrow it for voice over work.

----

Halloween 2020; #DreamWasHaunted trends on twitter after Dream mentions that his housemate dressed as a sexy ghost for Halloween. Sapnap mentions that the mysterious housemate sent him a photo of themselves in costume, again confirming that they are good friends, but also calling it surreal. The twitter @dreams-housemate-updates is created.

Also Halloween 2020, Y/N posts photos of their costume, which consists of a sheet ghost, fishnets, and high heels, captioned 'do you think they'd still let me be in the sequel 😈💖'.

----

When the stream ends, and Dream has said his goodbyes, the only sound in the apartment is his PC cooling in the darkness. In moments like these he barely feels real, like he's given everything to his friends and his fans and he's only existing through wishful thinking.

Outside, he's sure countless people his age are losing themselves to the night, cool air turning sticky-hot in the modern day masquerade that was Halloween. His PC is silent, the LEDs of his set up have long since dimmed. He finally relaxes his shoulders, and in that moment the weight of the world slips from them.

Finally, he feels like he can stand.

The rest of the apartment is marginally cooler than his office, but it's still just as dark; pitch black and growing ever closer to midnight, so he turns on his phone light.

It's quiet enough that he half wonders if you've left to join the revelry for yourself, but thinks better of it. You would have at least texted him.

In his room is the only other light in the void darkness of the apartment; you're in his bed, on your side, reading something on your phone. Before he'd started the stream, you'd been going through the photos he took of you in your ghost costume, the two of you laughing hard enough to wheeze, but those few hours feel like a lifetime away. You cast enough light, he turns off his own.

Patches is curled up, purring, and refusing to move where she's decided to curl up practically on your forehead. Her eyes are alert, eyes shining in the glow of your phone screen; the minute she sees Dream she stands, stretches herself into a strange, tall shape, and nimbly running towards him, run just past him, and stand between his legs in the doorway, her tail wrapping around his shin.

Dream looks at Patches, and you look at him.

Yesterday the first episode of The Mandalorian had aired, and of your expansive audience of friends, fans, and followers, he was the only one who saw the way you were almost sick with nervous worry.

Now, your thumb on the screen keeps it from timing out, keeps your face aglow and tired eyes visible. His duvet is pulled up to your nose. He hadn't really expected this, but he's glad for it. No words, no sounds, the ringing in his ears in the darkness.

He pulls off his shirt, leaving him only in sweatpants, and he eases the phone out of your grip. In the moment before he locks your phone, he sees you've been going through your Twitter DMs. There's no light now, his curtains drawn, and the apartment quiet. You shuffle over to make room for him in the dark.

His touch is gentle in the dark, at first to make sure he doesn't collide with you, but then he doesn't let go. You shuffle back. The space lessens between you, and with his hand on your hip, you carefully lean to rest your forehead against his.

"I'm so tired," your voice is a weak, forlorn whisper, and he wraps his arm more securely around you.

Both swallowed by the darkness, by the silence, you know the world can't get to you here. This is a sanctuary.

There's no grand gestures, no declarations, but nothing is quite the same once you both wake up. Not different, just better.

· NOVEMBER ·

FIlming for the upcoming CW show 'Walker' starring Jared Padeleki commenced in Austin, Texas commenced in mid-October of 2020, however in early November, Y/N has been announced as an upcoming guest star in it's first season, and is travelling to film on location. Among various updates on Twitter and Instagram, they post 'turns out i can't 'Netflix and Chill',,, my friends and colleagues going on well produced adventures in the background kinda ruins the mood lmfao'.

----

@.dreams-housemate-updates: SAPNAP HAS MET UP WITH THE HOUSEMATE [quote tweet from @.sapnapalt: can confirm @dream's secret housemate is real and also they're mine now sorry no takebacks]

----

On his stream on November 3rd, 2020, Sapnap announces that Dream's housemate has been in town for work. While his chat is clamouring for answers as to who they are, he says they're sitting next to him, but communicate by text, not wanting to be identified by their voice.

"Did you take the job just to visit me?" In a clip from the stream, Sapnap's voice is overwhelmingly fond. After a moment, he adds, "I knew it, you're such a simp, you could have just asked- I won't take it back," he laughs loud and bright, "you literally took a whole job as an excuse to come visit me; you're a simp." And we can hear what is the the first and only, to this point, distinct clip of Dream's Housemate as they laugh.

Three days later, November 6, 2020, Sapnap tweets from his alt account about an impromptu watch party with Dream's Housemate for The Mandalorian Season 2, Episode 2, just after it releases:

@.sapnapalt: excited to be able to watch the new #TheMandalorian episode with dream's housemate since they know more about this series than anyone else i will probably ever meet | @.sapnapalt: #HousemateMandalorianWatchParty yeah sure but also i don't think you all fully realise WHY this is the best and worst thing ive been a part of | @.sapnapalt: immediately after watching the recap "i feel like I should remember more of that happening. or any of it." off to a GREAT start #HousemateMandalorianWatchParty | @.sapnapalt: "not to give anakin skywalker any props but he was right about sand" #HousemateMandalorianWatchParty | @.sapnapalt: "prop department my beloveds" #HousemateMandalorianWatchParty | @.sapnapalt: "costume department my beloveds" #HousemateMandalorianWatchParty | @.sapnapalt: "Pedro Pascal and his tiny muppet child my beloveds" #HousemateMandalorianWatchParty | @.sapnapalt: "tell your followers i just have a lot of love in my heart" #HousemateMandalorianWatchParty | @.sapnapalt: "tweet @.Disney that i (HousemateWasTaken) should kiss pedro pascal in season 3" #HousemateMandalorianWatchParty | @.sapnapalt: "dont tell dream tho. not because i think he'd be jealous, but id feel bad if i got to kiss pedro pascal and he didn't." #HousemateMandalorianWatchParty | @.sapnapalt: "i don't know if he wants to kiss pedro but it'd still feel unfair to me" #HousemateMandalorianWatchParty | @.dreamwastaken: i give it five minutes before they've forgotten about the episode and just actively start simping for the cast and crew ❤️

Y/N also tweeted on 6 November, 2020. As a guest star on The Mandalorian Season 1, who had been promoted to series regular for Season 2, each week they retweet several posts around the time the new episode airs. This week, they also tweeted 'it doesn't matter if ive known you five minutes or five years, if you ask to watch an episode of #TheMandalorian with me that i tell you im in, you should know that one of the things i tell you when we watch it will be 100% false and i will not tell you which' followed by 'brb tryna convince this cute guy that some of baby yoda is repurposed Kermit the Frog'.

----

As of the middle of November, 2020, there is wild speculation about who Y/N was rumoured to be seeing whilst in Texas, though no evidence beyond two tweets from the beginning of the month point to them being close to anyone. Several Instagram story posts have highlighted their love of the people around them in the state, and also deriding the several paparazzi they've had following them.

----

"You wanna come with me to New York?" Sunday brought with it the cruel anticipation of Monday just around the corner, but with your face pressed to Sapnap's chest it's easy to shut out the rest of the world, "all expenses paid." Your can't even be bothered to hold back your yawn.

"You want me at your premiere?" There's a smile in his voice that you've come to love the sound of, and his fingertips are tracing patterns across your shoulders. You give a hum of confirmation; his hand stills, palm warm against your back even through your shirt.

"Just got you all to myself, I don't wanna leave yet," it comes out as a contented mumble, holding him a little tighter, "I missed you, dude."

"What, yesterday while you were at set?" He huffs a faint laugh.

"Before that, before we were all, you know," you finally raise your face to look at him, "I... yeah I missed you." There's a flush on his cheeks that you hadn't been expecting, and his eyes are so warm and kind.

"I can't go to New York with you," he says so very gently, which you'd been expecting, but was still faintly disappointing to hear, "it'd be too much of a giveaway, for you and for Dream." And you knew he was right, but you'd still wanted to offer. Still, after a moment, you see the regret in his eyes, "I can't believe I'm turning down meeting Chris Evans," he groaned. At this, you propped yourself up on your hands so you could lean in and give him a soft kiss.

"There's always next time," you assured, and that seems to be enough for him, as he's grinning when he pulls you back in.

----

'HousemateWasTaken | Dream's Housemate (Video Blogging RPF)' is now a recognised character tag on ArchiveOfOurOwn, with thirty-four fics; twenty-nine were posted between November 6 and 30. There are thirteen fics in the tag 'Clay | Dream/Sapnap/HousemateWasTaken', and two in the tag 'Clay | Dream/Pedro Pascal/HousemateWasTaken'.

----

HELIX premiered in New York on November 17th, 2020, and Y/N attends wearing a black, impecably tailored suit with blood-red embroidery and neon pink accessories, as a stylistic homage to the film itself, and matching their co-star Amandla Stenberg, dressed almost identically with sienna embroidery and neon orange detailing. Highlights from the red carpet interviews and photos include:

The moment Y/N and Amandla first see each other and practically run to hug one another in greeting, beaming.

Y/N posing with Chris Evan and Katie McGrath, like the child in an awkward family photo.

Any and all interviews with both Y/N and Amandla being so bright and joyful that it's almost incoherent, the most notable of which is, after being asked what it was like filming with Chris Evans, both leads turn to each other and just start asking 'Dad Evans?' in a loop, as if its the continuation of some long-running inside joke. It culminates with Chris Evans himself joining them, and both of the young leads cheering 'Dad Evans!' when he does. He regards them both very fondly, seemingly used to this behaviour, and both Y/N and Amandla both then answer the interviewer's initial question with glowing praise for Evans. He gives them both a kiss on the top of the head before they all move on to the next interview.

Y/N arm in arm with the director and the writer, standing tall and looking unshakably confident.

From rogerebert.com:

HELIX (four and a half stars)

In an age where no month is spared from the new release of a slick, shiny blockbuster made for the masses, we are constantly fed black and white morality, and worlds where even shades of grey never seem to stay that way for long. Director Robert Egger's genre-defying 'HELIX' is the refreshing and eloquent open hate-letter to this cult of personality that is the modern, franchise, superhero film, that we as a society didn't realise we so desperately needed. It's a film that will leave you feeling sick and cynical as you walk out of the theatre, but before you're even halfway home you'll be craving a second viewing, whether it be for the style, the story, or the meaning behind it all. From the desaturated design populated with violent, sparing colour, to the masterful way we slip and merge between an ironically upbeat, alternative soundtrack and deeply unsettling orchestral, it all serves to augment the oftentimes chillingly grounded performances which carry this heavy story.

Y/N in the role of protagonist, the supervillain Woolfe, is a masterclass of subtle discomfort unto themselves from the very moment the film begins. Their nuanced idiosyncrasies are relatable and believable as we spend time with them going about their day. The moments linger perhaps a second too long, which, while easy to consciously miss, subtly adds to the distinct impression that Woolfe is out of sync with the rest of the world. As we continue on, and Y/N continues to captivate us as we watch Woolfe's moral, mental, and ethical decline into violent hedonism and depravity, its terrifyingly easy to understand and believe their character progression and decisions, even if we don't agree with it, even if it's completely reprehensible. There's a queasiness that comes the moment you start seeing Woolfe as both a monster and a mirror.

[read more]

It should also be noted that in the afternoon of November 17th, 2020, just hours before the premiere began, Y/N tweeted the following:

my stylist is worried that im nervous for the premiere (which you should all see; wide release across North America with midnight screenings tonight) but idk how to tell her im actually fucked up over yesterday's events in a minecraft youtube rp | me 🤝 @.WilburSoot playing characters whose rapidly declining mental state and increasing disenfranchisement have lead to extreme, violent, detrimental outcomes, and being villainised by our narratives. | askdashkldf my housemate just messaged me 'why are you like this'.. its funnier with context, but its also funny without because honestly im kinda asking myserlf the same lol | MY CUTE FRIEND FROM TEXAS JUST ASKED ME IF I KIN DREAM I HATE IT HERE | edit: dream is FINE okay?? having kins is ALSO FINE,, none of that is the issue but i can't elaborate on what is the issue asakdfjlsdkjf i have a premiere to get to .. | i cant believe people think i have a PR team lmfao anyways | but also hello to dsmp enjoyers who might be finding me now, if u watched yesterday's events and were rooting for either wilbur or especially techno, boy do i have the movie for you! .... also everyone else! HELIX slaps and im excited to share it wit you all!

This marks the first time Y/N has acknowledged any part of the MCYT community publicly. It's the breakdown of a barrier; several content creators had been following you already due to your status as a public figure, but you now follow several content creators back, including both Sapnap and Dream.

----

A fanfiction titled 'did you mean it (when you said i was better off dead)' was posted to Archive of Our Own on November 30, 2020 with the following tags: Dream SMP - Fandom, HELIX (2020), Woolfe (HELIX)/Wilbur Soot, Wilbur Soot & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It Fic, Implied Suicidal Ideation, self aware!woolfe, ghostbur - freeform, FUCK dr michael chris evans all my homies HATE dr michael chris evans, inspired by a tweet, Crack Treated Seriously, on GOD we're gonna get woolfe some love and affection.

· DECEMBER ·

With December of 2020 comes a vague update to Y/N's public relationship status in the form of a photo of a sleeping tabby cat, curled up at the bottom of an unmade bed, posted to Y/N's Instagram story with a poll; Is it morally wrong to date a guy just because you're sad his cat chooses to sleep at the end of his bed and not yours? [Responses: YES (38%) | NO (62%)]

----

Throughout December, various interviews and clips from the press junket for HELIX are released on various websites and platforms while the film is still in theatres.

"Are you bringing your roommate to the premiere?" Amandla asks in what appears to be a little bit of down-time between questions while the camera is still rolling.

"That lovely, tall fellow?" Katie McGrath leaned past Chris Evans to look at you, and you smiled brightly but shook your head with bemusement.

"I do like it when he can join me but he does this, like, freelance media production stuff and he's kind of part of this huge project right now, so I have no idea how he'll be for November," you explained with a shrug and a smile.

"Do we know his name and I've just forgotten or is he still cultivating that air of mystery?" Amandla snorts, leaning against you further on the sofa. You shift to make yourself more comfortable, tipping your head to hers.

"Still a man of mystery," you laughed fondly, and the interviewer quickly cleared his throat, next question prepared.

----

On a chill stream near the middle of December, 2020, Dream mentions that his housemate technically has Technoblade fanart printed and stuck up around their room.

"I think they're making a shrine," he says mildly, trying to stay neutral even as Sapnap is wheezing with laughter.

"Oh man, they're so gonna hate that you called it that!" He crowed, just as there comes a loud, insistent banging on Dream's door. Sapnap's passed the point of audible laughter.

"Can I help you?" Dream sounds all kinds of smug and teasing, despite how quiet he seems to have gotten since moving away from his microphone. Whoever is at the door, presumably his housemate, is not audible, "it's a little bit of a shrine," he appears to counter some sort of silent argument, "it's his quotes, like three seperate- more than one is a shrine -" there's the faintest sounds of movement, and something that sounds like a hand coming to slap a door or wall, "if you're gonna have a shrine of anyone it should be me or Sap," as if that's somehow a logical argument, "no, like an official one with candles, and the pictures closer togeth-" and his words are cut off very suddenly. Then, after a considerable amount of silence, and to much the shock of everyone both in and watching the stream, the housemate can be heard.

"You're lucky you're cute." It's so quiet half the words can't even be properly heard, and it's not enough to reveal the true identity of the housemate, but it's not hard to figure out what had been said.

The door closes; Dream clears his throat when he's back by his computer.

"They have photos of me up?" Sapnap's tone is all fond and warm, completely ignoring the fact that the stream had heard the housemate's voice very faintly... and were also quickly jumping to conclusions about how they'd shut Dream up so quickly.

"Yeah, the cute ones from when they visited last month."

----

The Archive of Our Own tag 'Clay | Dream/Sapnap/HousemateWasTaken' has 22 fics by the end of 2020, and while there are around 27 fics in 'Clay | Dream/HousemateWasTaken', approximately 15 are also tagged with some variation of 'Clay | Dream/Reader', 'Housemate!Reader', or both.

----

And shortly after midnight on New Year's Eve, bringing 2020 to a close, Y/N posted the following on Twitter:

EVERYONE SHUT UP ITS 2021 IM MAKING A HIT TWEET ahem. 🥰 this year's midnight kiss was a dream 🥰

#dream x reader #sapnap x reader #dream imagine #sapnap imagine #dream x reader x sapnap #dreamwastaken imagine #dreamwastaken x reader #dreamnap x reader #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #cc!dream x reader #cc!dream imagine #cc!sapnap x reader #cc!sapnap imagine #cyltlanp #Spotify

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ziltoidcoffee · 2 years

Note

We've done Terry being jealous of Kumiko. Now: Daniel being jealous of Kreese.

Terry admitted to Daniel at some point that before they met, he was unrequitedly in love with John for years. Daniel doesn't mind Terry and Kreese still being friends, of course he doesn't, that would be silly. And yet whenever Kreese comes to the house for a visit, Daniel spends the whole time hanging on Terry's neck. Sitting in his lap. Generally turning the PDA up to 11.

(All right, anon. I’m not a huge Cobra Husbands romantic shipper, but since it's in their past, fuck it. 🐍 Here’s what I thought of. Definitely an canon div. AU if they got together during KK3.)

For the last hour, Daniel’s been watching a movie with Terry on the couch in his mansion, both wearing matching, red satin pajamas with hand-stitched monograms. He has his head in the older man’s lap with long fingers combing through his hair, each drag sending a warm tingle down Daniel’s spine. The movie is an old black and white noir that Terry likes, but he doesn’t care what film they watch, only that they’re together.

He’s content to spend the entire night here, possibly even fall asleep and be taken to bed. But a door slamming from the other room has Daniel sitting up with a frown, staring at the entrance to the living room. “What’s wrong?” he hears Terry ask, and Daniel says nothing, lying back down. But he can feel his face pulling into a grimace, annoyed by who he already knows will be joining them shortly. Only one person would dare to treat Terry’s house without care and live to see another day.

But just in case there’s any doubt in Daniel’s head, the march of footsteps toward the living room confirms his suspicions, along with Terry’s gleeful, “John! You’re back early!” Daniel can already feel the pang of jealousy turning into bile in his throat. He doesn’t even bother looking away from the movie, knowing the sight of John Kreese will ruin his composure.

“Turns out, my date was a bitch,” John scoffs, and he walks across the room in front of the television. Daniel still refuses to meet his eyes. He never liked Kreese and still doesn’t, especially after what he did to Johnny, or tried to do. But he puts up with the man, acting cordial at the very least since he’s Terry’s closest friend.

“Sorry to hear that,” Terry chuckles, and his hand slides down from Daniel’s hair to caress the side of his face. “Guess we all can’t be so lucky.”

Despite Kreese’s annoying presence, his boyfriend’s words bring a smile to Daniel’s lips. He even turns his head and glances up to meet Terry’s eyes.

Kreese snorts. “Whatever, I don’t care. Plenty of fish in the sea,” he mutters. Then there’s the sound of someone taking a seat not too far away, followed by a happier, “What’re you watching?”

Daniel tilts his head to glance over and finds Kreese sitting in the plush chair beside the couch facing the tv. Great, he plans to stay and ruin their date night for what is not the first time since Kreese moved in with them after his apartment complex burnt down. Terry claimed this was “only temporary” to help out his friend, but after three months, Daniel is starting to wonder if his boyfriend knows what the word “temporary” means.

He tries to hide his discomfort and turns away, sitting up beside Kreese with crossed arms. Not only does Daniel detest Kreese because of his past actions, but he found out a few weeks ago that his boyfriend used to have a crush on the former military captain. He considered moving out himself after that bomb was dropped, giving Terry the silent treatment for almost 24 hours. The only reason he didn’t is because Terry whisked him away for a much-needed vacation in Palm Springs and opened up to Daniel about all his past relationships, baring his heart in a rare moment.

Terry doesn’t seem to notice his aversion, smiling as he slings an arm around Daniel’s waist. “The Frightened City,” he answers. “Pre-Bond Sean Connery.”

“Now that’s a real man,” Kreese comments, and there’s a shuffle of clothes then a click that sounds like he’s lit a cigar.

A second later, the smoke drifting toward Daniel proves him right, and he rolls his eyes while Terry laughs at his friend. “True, true,” he says, like Kreese actually said something funny.

They start discussing the plot and the actors, loud enough to drown out the movie, and Daniel can feel the beginning of anger pricking up his spine. When this goes on too long, he throws his leg over Terry’s thigh, trying to earn his attention. But all he gets instead is his boyfriend’s hand, coming down to rest over Daniel’s leg. His fingers even play with the silk fabric, but Terry’s still joking with Kreese.

It shouldn’t annoy Daniel so much. Terry explained he got over Kreese when they came back from war. He realized Kreese was straight and never going to change. But that doesn’t settle the little green monster in Daniel’s mind. He grinds his teeth and turns his body to throw his other leg over Terry before moving to straddle him. Terry’s eyes widen in surprise, and Daniel grins while settling his hands on the man’s chest.

“What’s this?” Terry whispers, eyes cutting to Kreese.

Daniel doesn’t bother peering over. “I thought you said we’d be alone tonight,” he purrs, keeping his voice low enough for only his boyfriend to hear. Then he tilts his hips to grind down against Terry’s crotch covered in satin.

Terry sucks in a breath. “I assumed wrong,” he admits, closing his eyes as if trying to compose himself. But his hands drop to settle over Daniel’s hips, squeezing but not stopping his motion

“Can’t you just ask him to leave?” Daniel asks, and his voice is whiny, almost embarrassingly so. But he can feel Terry hardening beneath him. He must be doing something right.

The fingers at his hips tighten. “He had a bad night. I’m trying to be nice to my old friend,” Terry tells him.

He doesn’t like the sound of that. His boyfriend is too caring about the old war vet. Oh well, Daniel will make him leave then. “But what about me?” he breathes, and his fingers start to unbutton Terry’s shirt while his hips grind downward. Terry glares at him, saying nothing. Though under Daniel’s fingers, he can feel the older man’s heart beating rapidly. “I want you all to myself, Terry.”

Before Terry can reply, Daniel ducks down to kiss at his neck as a hand slides into his shirt. It’s then he hears a groan of irritation from a few feet away, and Daniel smirks against his boyfriend’s skin.

”All right, I’m out. No movie is worth watching you two for,” Kreese grumbles, and a moment later, there’s the slog of footsteps and a door shutting close.

When Daniel brings his head back up, Terry isn’t frowning but smirking. “You little brat,” he growls though his voice is full of affection, and his hands glide down to grab Daniel’s ass, bringing him closer. “You did that on purpose.”

“Maybe,” Daniel admits, pushing back against Terry’s touch. “I told you. I want you all to myself.” His expression darkens at the thought of Kreese and his boyfriend together in their positions.

He earns a chuckle. “Is this about my old infatuation with John?” Terry asks, and Daniel shrugs. “You should know by now that you're the most important person to me.”

It’s not quite “I love you,” but Daniel accepts this for now. “Then please kick him out, Terry. He’s always up in our business. I can’t stand it,” he pleads, still unbuttoning his shirt.

Terry sighs. “Soon, Danny. I swear.” He leans in to offer a soft and brief kiss that calms Daniel along with his next words. “But maybe I should keep John around if this is how you act.”

Daniel’s face grows warm in self-consciousness, but his head is caught by strong fingers at his jaw before he can turn away. “You look so pretty in green,” Terry whispers, and his smug grin makes Daniel see red instead.

He lifts a hand to grab the back of Terry’s head and pull him into a bruising kiss. John Kreese will never know what this feels like, to taste Terry Silver, not as long as Daniel’s around.

#my writing #drabble #fanfic #silverusso #cobra kai #the karate kid 3 #terry silver x daniel larusso #daniel larusso #terry silver #john kreese #jealousy

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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

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yunkiwii · 3 years

Text

—i miss you even when you're here—

pairing: bf!seungmin x fem!reader

genre: angst, fluff, established relationship

wc: ~2.7k

warnings: feeling of abandonment, loneliness, stress, insecurities

⇢ requested by @leihey ♡ i hope this lives up to your expectations!

summary: for seven days y/n has been feeling lonely as her boyfriend spends all his time either at work or thinking about work.

You turn your alarm off without even looking at it, huffing before reaching your arm to the left side of the bed, and the way it lands straight out into the wrinkled sheets with a muffled sound confirms what you expected but still hoped wouldn't happen today - waking up alone.

For the past week Seungmin would get home late to a long asleep girlfriend at their shared bed, and a plate of cold food on the kitchen table. On the other hand, you would wake to an already empty bed and a faint memory of a forehead kiss, one you wondered if it were real or just a lucid dream.

For seven days you have spent your time either at work or alone at home, carefully thinking what meal would cheer up your boyfriend the most after a long stressful day at JYPE, missing the way he would always cut the onions because he knew you were more sensitive than him to the burning feeling in your eyes and would cry easily, missing how the kitchen always felt so small for the two of you to cook together, his hands constantly on your waist as a way to tell you to "scootch over", not wanting to interrupt his singing to tell you verbally.

For seven days you have been cooking alone, cooking for someone you didn't know would show up in time or not. And whenever he did - he didn't - being his presence merely physical, greeting kisses placed on your cheeks, lips and forehead in a mechanical way, a force of habit. For seven days your kitchen felt too big, too quiet and the onions made you cry more than usual.

At the eighth day you couldn't take it anymore, and when you heard the doorknob of your front door creaking, just as you were setting the table - for two -, you had to take three deep breaths, the words you had organized and planned out started to get mixed up in your brain, creating a mess you couldn't control anymore and so, as soon as you see Seungmin entering the kitchen you can only say three words, "I love you."

"I love you too, silly." he chuckles as his lips peck yours quickly, "Is that what you wanted to talk to me about so desperatly?", he waves his phone, referring to the text you sent him earlier. He didn't look annoyed at you for making him come home earlier than it was usual lately, but he still seemed off, and the bags under his eyes screamed "exhaustion" the same way the marks your tears left on your cheeks did too.

You watch him as he eats, unable to do so too yourself, the lump in your throat growing as you hear Seungmin's muffled voice thanking you for the meal with his mouth full and a light squeeze on your thigh. And you wondered if you were being unfair, if you were being selfish, because he was allowed to be stressed about his work, he was allowed to not be at his best all the time, and it wasn't his fault he had to stay until late at night at work. But it was his fault that he couldn't leave work when he got home, that he couldn't put his phone down and ask how your day was, to just take ten minutes of his day to just be with you, and you only. And you were allowed to miss him, miss his touch, miss the way he held you tightly at the end of the day while you watched the most random tv show together, because it wasn't the show that matter but each other's company.

And, without realizing it, you had already spilled all of this to him before the kitchen dropped dead silent again, and everything went blurry. You couldn't even see his face, not until his hands cupped your cheeks and his thumbs cleaned your tears as you mumbled quietly, "I'm sorry, I- I just miss you."

"But I'm right here (y/n)...", he pulls your chair closer until your knees touch, taking your hand in his while the other lifts your chin so your eyes meet, "Let's go on a date tomorrow, yeah? I'll get off earlier and pick you up. You'll wear that fancy outfit you've had in your wardrobe for ages, and I'll put on a nice suit and tie. What do you say?"

And in the eighth night you went to bed feeling a little warmer inside, his back turned to you didn't hurt as much now that your hand rested on his side and his shirt was worn by you. Knowing - hoping - that tomorrow will be better, you fall deep into dreamland as soon as you shut your eyes.

However, you couldn't help but to feel abandoned again when, hours later, a cold breeze hits your stomach and arms, making you mumble something in your sleep as you try to recover whatever was blocking that breeze before. One of your hands gets a grip of a soft fabric that seems too heavy to pull back down next to you, leaving your sleepy self whining for the owner of said fabric not to leave again.

"I will be back later, don't forget I'll pick you up for dinner. Go back to sleep now, (y/n)."

But how could you forget about dinner with him when, for the last eight days it was all you were longing for, and for the nineth day it was all you could think about?

Said day passed by slower than ever, an illusion caused by the clear anticipation you felt about the upcoming night. Anticipation addressed by your colleagues at work, who wondered what has sent your head into cloud 9 and your right leg into a fidgeting state, unable to stay still.

These same nervous actions continued at home, the funny feeling in your stomach resembling the very first date you had with Seungmin a few years ago, back when you were still a college student and he wasn't as busy as now. The same thoughts you had that day invading your restless mind again, "What if he doesn't like me (anymore)?", "What if he thinks I am (got) boring?", "What if my outfit doesn't fit?".

With that last thought you rush to your bedroom - but not without tripping on the first step of the staircase - to, in desperate clumsy movements, try out the said outfit you've been wanting to wear for so long, the one Seungmin got you for a "special date" months ago, one that never happened. But it did fit, it fitted better than ever and when you saw your reflection in the mirror even you fell in love with the person in front of you, the one doing little swirls with a stupid smile on her face, the person you doubted to be yourself. And, suddenly, you felt like everything would be alright, everything would go back to normal, maybe things would get even better than before, "there is no way he'll fall out of love for me when I look like this" was your first thought.

But he didn't even seem to notice your appearance, he didn't seem to notice you at all, he simply picked you up at the agreed time with a peck on your lips and one single rose in hand. All he did was drive you - in silence - to the fanciest restaurant in town, leave you alone at the table about three times to pick up the phone - "it's from work, I'm sorry" -, pay for both your meals and drive you back home.

And it took him to hear the quiet sobs you so hardly tried to keep in, while laying as far away as possible from him that you had to secure yourself from falling over the edge, to realize what he had been doing to you, to finally figure out how much he has been hurting you. And in that moment his sobs could be heard too. The realisation and guilt hit Seungmin like a truck and he couldn't move. He couldn't believe how he had let his stress and excessive work load affect you too. He couldn't believe he had reached a point to where he brought work home, one thing he had promised you he would never do. And his chest tights up a bit more when he realises you never got mad at him for breaking his promise, and breathing gets difficult when he faces you - your back.

"(Y/N)...", and your stomach drops five feet down at his cracked, low tone, and "I'm so sorry..." was all he could say before bursting into silent tears once more.

However, you were too hurt to face him, and the burn in your eyes increases when you feel the mattress sink behind you before a warm hand rests on your waist, but you don't push him away.

The nineth night was his the turning point, and Seungmin swore to your asleep self - and to himself - that the next morning would mark a new beginning.

And in the first morning you pretended to be asleep when his hand took a few strands of hair off your face, his lips barely touched your skin and his voice broke your heart, "see you later". And you held your breath until the bedroom door closed and stood still until the front door locked. But it took longer today, and in between these two moments you heard noise in the kitchen, and within a few minutes a nice smell made its way into your hiding place, as if it was trying to lure you to give in and face your boyfriend. But not even your grunting stomach stopped you from waiting to hear his car drive off to get up. And when you did, the curiosity took over you. He never cooks in the morning, and he never leaves this late. Something was changing after all.

Hence, in the first night, you shifted your body to face him when he quietly climbed in bed next to you, your left cheek pressed against your hands as a weak smile greeted the tired boy, "I appreciated the breakfast." Nevertheless, you didn't reach out to pinch his cheek the way you used to, though you had the urge to do so when his own lips drew a smile and his eyes got lost in his cheeks.

In the second morning you didn't pretend to be asleep and you didn't wait for the car to leave. In the second morning you sat at the kitchen table with Seungmin and, because he knew it would take you time to go back to him, he didn't force a conversation, he didn't force skinship, he merely held your hand and squeezed it lightly. And you knew he was trying, you knew he would try and wait until you were ready to trust him again, to give him your heart again.

Day by day you would slowly give him little pieces of you, by sharing the most small and insignificant stories of your day, by letting him hold your hand at night, by sharing earpods with him on the couch when you couldn't fall asleep, by letting him try and do all the things he shouldn't have stopped doing in the first place.

But it took you seven days and seven pieces to trust him with your heart again. Therefore, on the seventh day, as the the sunbeams peaked through the poorly closed shutters and reflected on Seungmin's bare shoulders, you couldn't help yourself from admiring him and, for the first time in seven days, you felt warm inside. The butterflies you used to feel the first times you woke up next to him were back, and were more annoying than ever.

You let yourself study all his features attentively, scanning all his perfect imperfections, letting yourself fall for him all over again - not that you think you ever fell out of love, but rather disconnected from it, and him.

He flinched and mumbled confused words, and you couldn't help but to smile and giggle softly at how silly your sleepy, drooling nonense-speaking boyfriend looked. This time, you gave in to the urge of pinching his cheek tenderly as to not wake him up, and you left your hand resting there as your thumb rubbed his soft skin.

As you were feeling your eyes becoming heavy again, your thumb stopped the movement and your hand slid down a bit. Your body relaxing more and more, until a ticklish feeling pulled you back to the "here and now", just to find Seungmin kissing the palm of your hand with his eyes still closed before pulling you closer to him, making you wince and giggle when his warm breath hit your ear and his raspy voice gave you his "good morning's".

He moved his body sloppily, hitting you with his elbow before comfortably positioning half of his body on top of yours, resting his head on the crook of your neck as he held you tightly by your waist, as if he were afraid you would run away.

"I missed you Seungmin, I missed you even when you were here." Your fingers got lost in his messy hair as you spoke, his grip on you grew tighter and you felt the tears peaking in the corner of your eyes. "You hurt me... and I thought about leaving you before you left me first."

For the first time you were letting him know how you truly felt, for the first time you were opening yourself up to him without any ounce of shame or fear. And this was your turning point. This was the moment you both knew you were back, ready to mend all the wrongs and the scattered pieces of your hearts that were left all around the house. "But everyone makes mistakes. And I know you have been trying, and-", Seungmin shifts his body once more, supporting himself with his hands as he is now hovering over you with his eyes locked in yours, a restless look in his face worried about what you would say next, and suddenly you feel shy, "What I mean to say is, I forgive you. I choose to stay and love you even if my mind won't let me believe that you love me back, I will trust you and your actions. So please don't let my mind trick me again, don't give it reasons to doubt your love for me unless you don't feel it anymore."

You pull his hair back waiting for a reaction, leaving your hand to rest behind his neck ready to pull him in for a kiss, the first real kiss in sixteen days. But you wait for what it feels to be an eternity, until he breaks the silence and mends the last piece of your heart when he reassures his love for you and vows to reassure you every single day until the rest of your lives.

And when you finally pull him in he loses balance and falls on top of you, his forehead hits your nose and just like that the house is filled up with laughter again, the onions don't make you cry anymore, the kitchen shrank and the fancy dates became late night movie marathons with you snuggled on Seungmin, or Seungmin snuggled on you, until you were far too tired to walk upstairs, leading to countless nights spent on the tiny couch and countless mornings with complaints about aching bodies but happy souls.

nets: @k-library @ficscafe @k-dinernet @districtninewriters

taglist: @dreamwrld @su-lix @bobateastay @leihey @serialee @hyunsluvv

⇢ let me know if you want to be added to the taglist ♡

#klibrary #ficscafe #kdiner #districtninewriters #seungmin x reader #seungmin angst #seungmin fluff #seungmin oneshot #seungmin imagine #seungmin fanfic #stray kids scenarios

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adhdeancas · 4 years

Text

Dean gets screened for ADHD

“I don’t really buy into the whole ‘shrink’ thing,” he blurted out as soon as he got in the door. The woman in the white coat raised an eyebrow at him, not unkindly.

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not a shrink, then.”

Dean floundered at that. He nodded and sat awkwardly in the chair across from the psychiatrist, perched on the edge, just in case. His fingertips bounced nervously against his leg. “Okay, yeah, sure, but- you know, the whole-” another indiscriminate arm wave, another soft smile.

“Mental health?”

“My brother thought I should come.” he confirmed, sighing and resigning himself to his fate finally. He settled back further into the chair. “Well and my- my buddy.” he looked down, his heartbeat picking up a little.

“I am going to have to ask you some questions, though.”

“Hm? Uh, yeah, go ahead, whatever you gotta do.”

Dr. Pearson took out her clipboard, an action which stopped Dean in his tracks. He was starting to feel a little boxed in. “So, first off, what are you here for? I mean, besides placating your brother.”

Dean grinned at her, the knot in his chest loosening a little. “Yeah, uh… so my brother and my… friend, they think I’ve got ADHD”

“Do you think you have ADHD?”

Dean blinked at her. “I- I dunno, I mean, I’m a little old for that, ain’t I?”

The doctor shrugged. “ADHD doesn’t have an age limit. And you’re never too old to improve your life.”

Dean held his hands up in defense. He didn’t want her to think he was just flat out dismissing it, but… “Don’t get me wrong, I’m fucked up in a thousand different ways, but for once… my life kinda feels… good. I got a good thing going. Don’t know how much I wanna change.” It felt like way too much to mess with, what if he messed it up?

The psychiatrist nodded, interested. “Tell me about that. Your life now. It’s a recent change?”

Dean scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah. Me and my family, we got past some pretty big stuff not too long ago, and uh… I got into a relationship, a good one,” he cleared his throat and wiped his palms off on his pants. “I moved and everything, and I kind of have a kid. And I have a job, a real job, for the first time in my goddamn life.” He looked up and beamed, so proud of his bar. His bar. He swore, everytime he talked about his life it sounded like a fever dream.

The psychiatrist returned his smile, which made him feel like a third grader. “Those sound like some pretty big changes. Congratulations. And you said you had different circumstances before? Would you characterize any of your past life events as traumatic?”

Dean laughed, actually cackled then. “Uh, all of them?” From the patronizing smile the doc was wearing, he guessed she didn’t believe him. “I- I was a soldier, kinda. For a while. Seen a lot of bad shit.” The doctor nodded; she started scribbling something down on her paperwork. “I’m not, like, traumatized or anything, though.”

A genuine smile pulled at Dr. Pearson’s lips as she wrote, and Dean leaned forward, eager to see what kinda joke she thought he was pitching. “You know, in all my years of being a psychiatrist, almost no one has wanted to admit they have trauma.” She looked at him and shrugged. “Most people, at least, most people who come to see me, have trauma.”

Dean crossed his arms, knowing it made him look cartoonishly uncomfortable and not being able to stop himself anyway. “Okay, can we move past this part of the- whatever? Exam?”

She nodded, surprising Dean. “We can do the ADHD screening now.”

“What, so all the rest of that was for shits and giggles?”

“Background.” She was unfazed. “Okay, now I’m going to ask you some questions about your attention and work habits and how your day to day functions, they’re called executive dysfunctions, how they work and how they present in your mind. It’s going to be a lot of questions. You don’t have to worry about any right answers, there aren’t any. And if you want to expand more on an answer, please feel free. All information helps me get a more accurate picture of your mindspace.”

Dean blinked. Once. Twice. He didn’t mean to zone out, he really didn’t, but his brain just kinda glazed over the words, like they went in one ear and out the other without translating into English. The doctor waited patiently, and he nodded his go-ahead, hoping it was the right answer. “Yeah, sure.”

She cleared her throat and flipped the page on her clipboard, looking down at a list of questions she apparently had. There were a lot of questions, some of them confused Dean, and he had to think about them a lot. He’d never thought about thinking so much in his life. His brain just worked, what the hell was he supposed to say about it?

“Are you organized?”

“Yeah, totally. Except when, y’know, if I’m going through a rough few days, then… nobody wants to do laundry when they feel like shit.”

“So your ability to maintain your cleanliness relies on your mental state?”

“Yeah, doesn’t everyone’s?”

“So, what goes through your mind if you’re having a rough day, or week, and you see laundry on the floor. Or dishes in the sink. What do you think, what do you do?”

“Well, I think I should clean it up, obviously.”

“And you do?”

He shrugged, embarrassed. “It’s a lot of work.” He shakes his head. “No it’s not, I know that stuff would take me like three minutes but… I gotta get up first.”

“Do you find it hard to concentrate on work?”

“Yeah. I mean, sometimes. Research, fuck yeah. I swear to- I swear, I can’t read more than three pages before I-” He waved a hand in front of his eyes. She seemed to get it. “But if it’s like- cars, then I can work for hours and just - zone the fuck out.”

“What about watching tv? Can you sit on the couch and relax?”

“Yeah!” Dean started confidently, but then wavered. “Well, unless, I’ve like- I dunno, sometimes I just need to do something with my hands, y’know? Or some days, my car is my couch. All I need is my Baby, the open road, some music… But I can watch a good marathon, don’t get me wrong. One time I watched John Wayne’s entire life’s work in one sitting.”

“Do you lose things often?”

“All the fucking time. It’s why I try to be organized. My keys, my guns, my wallet, I know where that stuff is, I always put it in the same place.”

“Like a cubby or a bedside table?”

“Uh…” He scratched his head. Maybe he was batshit. Every answer he said made him sound crazier and crazier. “No. So, I put my keys on this one shelf of the bar while I’m there, my hus- Cas got this cutesy little key holder from a garage sale, so that’s where I keep ‘em at home. Wallet on this one ledge in the kitchen, and I’ve got a gun in basically every room.” He was hoping she wouldn’t fixate on the gun thing. Luckily, she didn’t.

“But other than those things, you lose?”

“Yeah. I- I found this one ring I lost years ago in my trunk a few months ago, and I’ve been wearing it every day. But I took it off because-” He coughed. He took it off because he and Cas were fucking on their living room couch while Jack was with Sam for the weekend and he hadn’t wanted any… roughness to his fingers. “I took it off and set it down, and I knew where I set it down, right? But then I was afraid of losing it again, so I didn’t look for it, even though I know I knew where it was. So like four days later I finally look for it, and it’s not there.” He sighed heavily, and looked up just in time to see Dr. Pearson looking at him like he was a mummy who’d come back to life and started talking about the intricacies of hieroglyphics. Okay, so he had ADHD, apparently. That was ADHD.

Dean left with a prescription for a when-needed stimulant and a weirdly light feeling in his chest. It took him five weeks to find his ring, right where Cas had put it in his bathroom drawer. He had laughed at Dean when he yelled at him, which brought Dean back down to a self-deprecating laugh. Later, Dean forwarded him an article about ADHD and object impermanence, and Cas started immediately giving Dean things he found if he thought he’d lost them. Which. Was A Solution.

#dean winchester #dean has adhd #destiel #deancas #fanfic #my writing #drabble #adhd #castiel

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duggardata · 3 years

Text

Initial Thoughts on The Vuolos’ Book

Read it, but admittedly skipped large chunks of the “Jeremy Only” sections. It really doesn’t contain much new material, at all, which I find ironic. Didn’t they tout this as a book that reveals more than what is seen in the show? Because, seriously, it doesn’t... Most of Jinger’s ‘early life’ stories are pulled straight out of her parents’ previous books or the show, and the ‘love story’ sections don’t add much beyond what we’ve already seen on the show. Honestly, I think the only notable ‘new’ information is in the section about their pre–courtship. (We learn that Jinger got cold feet for, like, two days and almost backed out just as Jim Bob gave Jeremy permission to officially pursue her.)

Here’s a few things discussed or learned in the book—

It is dedicated to Felicity Nicole, Evangeline Jo, and “Halleli Grace,” the baby they lost.

Jinger describes what it was like to deal with TLC cameras for the first time. “I remembered the words my parents had coached me to say in the nick of time.”

Jeremy laments his sinful adolescent partying in truly dramatic fashion.

Jinger describes how being on the show was kind of isolating, since the family sometimes had to modify their behavior to accommodate filming, and keep things "under wraps” until the show aired. As a result, Jinger says she felt she couldn’t be fully open with anyone outside the family.

Jinger says, for awhile, her parents allowed random fans to visit without giving it a second thought. It only occurred to them that this wasn’t the best idea after an incident where a visiting fan stole Jinger’s diary.

Jinger describes her struggle with body image. She avoided eating and recounts how she managed to skip meals without anyone noticing.

Apparently, Jeremy was visiting Jessa + Ben when the Duggars learned that Radar had obtained the police reports.

Speaking of the scandal... It’s extremely glossed over. The Molestation Scandal is described like this: “One of my [Jinger’s] siblings had made some sinful choices, but it had all been years ago. It had been awful, but we had dealt with it as a family.” The ‘sinful’ sibling wasn’t even named! He’s similarly not named in the Cheating Scandal, which is mentioned so quickly you barely even notice it. That scandal is described as “another shocking crisis that hit later that summer involving one of the siblings.”

When the scandals hit, the Duggars apparently went to live at a friends’ property for two weeks to escape the paparazzi.

After Jeremy asked for permission to get to know Jinger, Jim Bob didn’t give his permission for 5 Months. During this time, they spoke by phone weekly and discussed theology. Jim Bob was worried about theological differences between Jeremy and the Duggars, and thought it might be a “dealbreaker” for Jinger + Jeremy.

Because of this, Jinger started to worry that courting Jeremy might be a source of conflict and tension in the family. Right as Jim Bob decided it was actually fine, and Jeremy could court Jinger, Jinger freaked out and decided she couldn’t be with him because it was too “divisive.” Jeremy, Jim Bob, and Michelle managed to change Jinger’s mind and everything was back on track, like, two days later.

Jeremy throws out an intriguing nugget of information when he casually mentions: “When Jinger and I started our relationship, we knew that reality TV would be a part of it. I’d seen the crews around when I’d visited in the past, but I usually sat to the side if I could help it. But Jinger was under contract and obligated to be on the show.”

Apparently Ms. Renee got into the Duggar wedding dress sewing game by simply reaching out to Jinger and offering to sew her gown.

J–Rod makes a cameo appearance when Jinger + Jeremy describe how they had to take evasive action to throw the paparazzi off when they left their wedding.

They confirm that they never made it to New Zealand on the honeymoon due to the earthquake.

Apparently, the Vuolos intentionally waited ~1 Year before having a baby, and having a baby was a conscious decision on their part. No details about how they prevented pregnancy during Year 1.

Felicity is named after Felicitas, a Christian martyr.

Felicity had colic for the first month and it was very awful for everyone.

Apparently, they had wanted to have their children ~2 Years Apart.

The book ends at their miscarriage. Nothing more recent than that.

As an editing note, I noticed that Evangeline was mentioned in the dedication, but not in the “About Us” page, which I found incredibly sloppy on the editor’s part.

#jinger and jeremy

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officialaemondtargaryen · 4 years

Text

Five Kisses pt. 2

Summary: Your relationship with Bucky is defined by five different kisses

Characters: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 1,877

Author’s Note: I hope that you are all enjoying this little series. This part will include one kissing trope: the “accidentally-witnessed-kiss”. In part one, we covered two tropes; “kiss-in-a-dream” and the “first kiss”. I think this is going to be four parts long, so I hope you all will stick with me through it. Please keep in mind this is the first thing that I have written in four years, so please be nice to me <3

You can find part one here!

The next few weeks seemed to fly by.

You had been working so much that you hadn’t really had much time to think about that night. Your boss had even commented on your work performance, and your recent knack for finding things to keep yourself busy with. You were afraid that if you allowed your mind to wander, you’d literally unravel. And you couldn’t let that happen, because you were doing a pretty amazing job at pretending like nothing had ever happened.

Bucky had come over to the apartment a few times since. The first time, you panicked and acted as if he was invisible. The second time, you lied about having food poisoning and spent the entire night in your room watching Schitt’s Creek while everyone played Mario Kart in the living room.

So, everything was back to normal.

And no one suspected a thing.

Or so you thought.

“Hey, do you mind if Steve and Buck come over tonight?” Natasha asked, standing in the threshold of your room.

“Why would I mind if they come over?” You asked, looking up from your laptop.

Natasha shrugged. “I feel like you’ve been a little more avoidy than usual, lately.” She said. “Wasn’t sure if something happened that night that Steve and I didn’t make it out to Josie’s.”

“No,” you said and shook your head. “Nothing happened. I’ve just been really busy. I’ve had a huge workload lately, and you know I’m not the best at dealing with my stress.”

It wasn’t a lie.

“Well we’re watching that new Tom Hanks movie later if you want to join.” She offered. “I think Steve said something about ordering pizza.”

“Tom Hanks and pizza?” You asked and Nat nodded. “How could I resist?”

You figured it best to at least try to not be ‘avoidy’ as Natasha called it earlier. After all, how long could you really get away with it? Bucky was constantly around and you couldn’t have food poisoning every few days. You knew that sooner or later you would have to face him, be around him, talk to him- but you were scared. What if he had realized that it was a mistake? What if it was just the alcohol?

What if he didn’t feel the same way?

Part of the reason why you had buried yourself into your work and hobbies was so that you didn’t have to think about things like this. Because the thought of him kissing you the way that he did, and then realizing that it might have been a mistake, nearly broke your heart.

A few hours later, you were sitting on the couch when you heard the sound of boots in the hallway. The front door opened to reveal Steve with a couple of pizza boxes and Bucky was behind him with a few bags of other snacks and a case of beer. His eyes found you almost instantaneously and you quickly averted your gaze back to the TV.

“Hey, Y/N!” Steve was smiling from ear to ear. “Long time, no see.”

You rolled your eyes and stood up, helping him with the pizza boxes. “I hope you made sure to get the garlic sauce.”

Steve sighed, “I forgot.” You gave him a scowl. “I wasn’t sure if you’d be joining us. I mean, you spend one night alone with Buck and suddenly you fall off the face of the planet! Was the night that bad?”

You were starting to get the impression that everyone already knew you and Bucky had kissed, and they were now just trying to get you to admit it. First Natasha’s comment about ‘something happening’ and now Steve. You bit on your lip and glanced over at Bucky. His eyes were downcast, pretending to be interested in setting up the table, but you knew he was avoiding your gaze.

Steve stood in between the two of you, looking back and forth at each of you until he bursted out in a loud laugh. “I’m kidding! Relax!”

He continued to chuckle to himself as he headed down the hallway towards Nat’s room, leaving you and Bucky in the kitchen, alone, the first time you had been alone with him since that kiss. But, as if it were now second nature to you, you pretended as if he wasn’t even there and turned on your heel towards the cupboards to grab some plates.

Bucky didn’t move however, he just stood idly at the end of the table; fingers fumbling with the napkins that came with the pizza. You turned back around, plates in hand and sat them down on the table. Your heart was pounding so loud, you were sure that he would be able to hear.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said quietly. You opened your mouth to object, but he shook his head. “Don’t try and deny it.” He said, his lips curling at the ends into a small smile. “Natasha told Steve that you didn’t really have food poisoning.”

Thanks Nat.

“You’re right,” you admitted. “I have been avoiding you.��

“Why?” He asked, completely oblivious- you were half hoping that he would figure it out on his own.

Now you were really caught between and rock and a hard place. You could confess to him all of your feelings and your fears, but the thought of doing so terrified you. All the while, his eyes were piercing a hole straight though to your soul, it seemed, as he waited for an answer.

“I don’t think that now is the best time to talk about it,” you told him with a gesture towards Nat’s room. “They’re already suspicious.”

Bucky nodded his head, “so you’re like worried they’ll find out, or somethin’?”

Immediately, you rolled your eyes. “No. Yes. I- I don’t know, okay? Look, can we talk about this later?” You asked him. “GUYS, THE PIZZA IS GETTING COLD AND I’M STARVING!” You yelled to Steve and Natasha who were probably eavesdropping on your conversation right now.

You could hear them start heading down the hallway towards the kitchen.

“So, who’s ready to eat?” Steve asked rubbing his hands together.

Natasha and Steve took up most of the couch during the movie, leaving you and Bucky to share the loveseat. Knowing that it was too small for the both of you to sit on it comfortably, Bucky ended up sitting on the floor with his back to you. Finding it incredibly hard to focus on the movie, you spent most of the two or so hours staring at his perfectly tousled, chestnut hair.

Your phone buzzed and you quickly glanced at the screen to see a text from Natasha. “You’re staring,” the text read and you looked up at her to see her looking right at you with eyebrows raised. You texted her back quickly, advising her that she should be paying attention to the movie and you saw her roll her eyes upon receipt.

When the movie ended, you noticed she and Steve whispering among themselves and not too long after that Steve stood up from the couch. “We’re going to run down to the store and grab some ice cream.” It was completely random and you definitely knew now that they were both up to something. “Does anyone want anything?”

You and Bucky shook your heads in sync.

They left shortly after and the apartment was suddenly filled with an uncomfortable silence. It was now or never for you and Bucky, and you knew that- and you weren’t sure how long Steve and Natasha were going to be gone for. He stood up from his place on the floor and moved to sit on the couch, directly across from you.

“Well this is incredibly awkward,” you said and he let out a laugh. A loud sigh escaped your lips as you tossed your head back on the cushion. “It’s not funny, Buck.”

“You’re right,” he replied trying to keep himself from smiling. “It’s cute.”

You sighed again. “Look, a few months ago, I didn’t like you at all. I’ll admit, I didn’t have a very good reason for it, but that’s besides the point. But then- I don’t know, something changed. And I wasn’t necessarily sure how to deal with it so I just kind of-”

“Avoided the situation.” Bucky confirmed and you nodded.

“But then we had a great night out and we kissed,” you continued. “And because my feelings had already begun to change before that, I guess I was just afraid that maybe you wouldn’t feel the same, and the reason you kissed me was because you were drunk.”

Finally. You hadn’t said any of this aloud to anyone and now that you had, it felt like a giant weight being lifted off of your chest.

“You thought the only reason I kissed you was because I was drunk?” He laughed again. “I guess we’re both pretty bad at conveying our emotions, then, because I have been wanting to do that ever since I first met you. And, since we are getting everything out in the open, I have a small confession to make.”

“What’s that?” You asked.

Bucky stood up from the couch and crossed over to sit next to you on the loveseat. He turned his entire body towards you and took your hands in his. “Don’t be mad okay?” He said, suppressing a small smile. “But I kind of asked Steve and Nat not to come to Josie’s that night.”

You pulled your hands from his and stood up from the loveseat. Bucky stood up, as well. “I knew it!” You exclaimed, jutting a finger into his chest. “Well, I suspected something. It was their idea to go out!”

Bucky grabbed your hand and intertwined your fingers, pulling your arm behind him to wrap around his waist. “We were having such a good time,” he said. “You weren’t actively hating me.”

You smiled and shook your head and wrapped your other arm around his middle; leaning your head against his chest. “You made the right call.”

Bucky looked down at you kissed the top of your head. You moved to look up at him and he placed a finger underneath your chin, holding you in place as he closed the gap between you. It was even better than the first time, if that could be possible. He pulled you tight to him, as if you weren’t already close enough, and allowed his hands to explore your backside. You giggled as he cupped your ass, which prompted him to only deepen the kiss.

As soon as you remembered that Steve and Natasha could walk through that door at any moment, the front door flew open. You jumped back to see your friends standing in the doorway with wide eyes, mouths open with surprise. Bucky sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and you could see a blush creeping up to his cheeks.

“You owe me twenty bucks,” Steve said to his girlfriend.

You rolled your eyes and then noticed something off as neither one of your friends were carrying any bags from the store that they had said they were going to. “Wait a second, did you guys even leave to get ice cream?”

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lumosandnoxwriting · 4 years

Text

Just Peachy - George Weasley

Title: Just Peachy Pairing: George x Fem!Reader Warnings: NSFW!! Pegging, male receiving oral, male fingering, slight fem!dom/sub!george, teasing, degradation. Seriously George takes it up the ass if you don’t like it don’t read it k thanks Summary: with the world wide web at his fingertips it’s only natural that George finds something new to try in the bedroom A/N: for the anon who wanted George getting pegged. Like I said in the warnings, George takes it up the ass so if that makes you uncomfy or you don’t like it don’t read! I’m also not tagging anyone as I don’t want to make anyone uncomfy or upset! Feedback is always welcome!

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

Giving George a laptop and access to the internet turned out to be both a blessing and a curse. A curse because he quickly became obsessed with browsing the internet, and he spent most of his time scrolling away on reddit or with his headphones on, watching some random YouTube video. He could chatter on for hours about a thread he found on reddit or a meme he discovered when browsing on Instagram and once he discovered how to order things off of amazon it got even worse. At least once a day a package containing some random gismo or trinket arrived at the doorstep of their shared flat, and George would excitedly rip open the box and use whatever was inside for a few minutes before jumping back on his computer to order more useless crap.

But his newfound love of the internet was also a blessing. George had figured out how to connect his laptop to the tv in his and Y/N’s bedroom, and every night before falling asleep they would cuddle together in bed, watching some tv program or film on Netflix. Along with George’s obsession with shopping for useless gadgets, he’d started to pick things up for Y/N as well. It was never anything big, a box of her favorite chocolates, a candle he thought she’d enjoy the smell off, a new pair of fuzzy socks for her to wear around the flat in the winter. Just anything he saw that made him think of her.

George’s new love of the internet also did wonders for their sex life, something Y/N welcomed happily.

Along with the random cute presents George started ordering for Y/N, he also started ordering some sexy ones as well. Her wardrobe is now dripping in different sets of lingerie and her underwear drawer is filled to the brim with lace clad panties. Their sex toy collection has nearly doubled in size, with toys for them to use together or on their own being added to the mix. And thanks to George’s Pornhub premium subscription, they’ve tested out some new positions and kinks in the bedroom as well. Some were only a one time thing, others have become a permanent part of their intimate moments, but everything has been pleasurable, nonetheless. It’s made their relationship stronger and helped George ask for things he never thought he’d want, even those that may be a tad unconventional.

George clears his throat as he tugs Y/N closer to his side, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. He can tell she’s close to drifting off to sleep by the way her chest is moving with slow deep breaths and he knows he’ll never get the chance to ask the question that’s been burning on the tip of his tongue for weeks if he doesn’t do it now. “You ever heard of pegging?” he asks into the quiet of their bedroom.

“Like clothes pegs? The things you use to hang your washing up with?” Y/N mumbles sleepily into his chest.

George chuckles and he can feel some of his nerves easing away. “No, it’s like a sex thing.”

“Like putting clothes pegs on your nipples? Sounds kinda hot,” Y/N teases, turning so she can look up at George. “Though I imagine the splinters would be a nightmare to get out.”

“Not quite,” George responds, biting his lip. “It’s, um. This thing where. The girl wears this thing, a strapon, and um. Uses it to. Ya know, fuck the guy.” George’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire, and he looks up at the ceiling to avoid Y/N’s gaze.

“Oh,” she responds quietly, reaching up to cup one of George’s cheeks. She rubs the flushed skin with her thumb soothingly, waiting for him to relax into her touch before she continues. “Is that something you’re interested in? Something you want me to do to you?”

“I. Um. Uh. Yes, I think so. Only if you want to,” George babbles nervously, reaching up to run a hand through his hair.

Y/N grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers before bringing it down so she can press a few kisses to the back of his hand. “Georgie, look at me.” When George finally looks back down at her Y/N smiles softly and squeezes his hand. “You never have to be embarrassed about this kinda stuff with me George. If you wanna try it, we’ll try it. Simple as that.”

George leans down to kiss Y/N briefly. “Just didn’t want you to think I was weird or something.”

“Of course I think you’re weird,” Y/N teases, kissing him again. “But there’s loads of other reasons for that, and none of them have to do with your sexual preferences. There’s no shame here, love. I’ll do some research and then we’ll get down into it, yeah?”

“You’re the best, you know that?” George compliments, settling back into the pillows.

Y/N hums as her eyes flutter closed, letting the sound of George’s heartbeat lull her to sleep. “Damn right.”

Over the next few days Y/N spends every ounce of free time she has browsing different forums and websites, trying to find out all she can to make sure the experience is as pleasurable for the both of them as possible. She watches far more porn than she ever thought she would, spends hours searching on various sex toy websites to find the perfect strapon and she does more research on lube than any person should ever do in their lives.

Y/N keeps everything a secret from George until the day they’d decided would be best to try for the first time. They choose a Friday, that way George will have time to recover from any soreness before he’s expected to be back at work and if they both find it enjoyable, possibly do it again.

While George is at work Y/N decides to grab the strapon from where she’d been hiding it in the back of the closet, so she can clean it off one last time and figure out how to properly strap it to her body, so she doesn’t have to fumble with it later. The harness she’d chosen has a part that settles into her slit, with ridges and bumps that’ll drag across her clit with every thrust. A shiver runs down her spine as the cool leather wraps around her skin and she tightens the straps, adjusting them so they fit tight on her hips and thighs.

“This is kinda hot,” Y/N mumbles as she stares down at the dildo resting at attention in between her thighs. It’s flesh colored and slightly curved, and it’s about 7 inches long and moderately thick. She wraps her hand around it, slowly moving her wrist as if she’s jacking off. “Fucking hell,” she groans as the ridges on the strap brush her clit, her hips jerking forward. Y/N wraps her hand around the base and grabs her phone off of the bathroom counter, snapping a picture to send to George.

Can’t wait to have you begging for my cock xx

George takes his phone out when he feels it vibrate in his pocket, figuring its Y/N sending him a sweet message. Ever since she taught him how to text a few months ago she’s started sending him little things throughout the day while they’re apart. Usually it’s a text to let him know she’s thinking about him or sometimes it’s a meme or a video she found that she figures he’d enjoy too.

So, when he opens his phone and is met with a picture of her hand wrapped around the dildo Y/N plans on fucking him with later his cheeks immediately turn bright red as he nearly drops his phone on the ground. His cock twitches in his trousers and he has to grip the counter in front of him and take a few deep breaths to try and calm himself down. That image is going to be imbedded in his brain for the rest of the day, and he has no idea how he’s supposed to make it through the next few hours knowing what’s waiting for him at home.

“You alright?” Fred asks as he comes out of the back, taking in George’s flushed appearance.

George hums and nods, locking his phone and shoving it back in his pocket. “Yep. Just peachy.”

Fred gives him a look but doesn’t say anything more, and George sighs in relief, deciding to go help some customers to keep his mind off of Y/N.

“God damn,” George pants as Y/N grinds down in his lap, his grip on her hips tightening and his head tilting back to give her more room to bite at his neck.

After dinner and some more talking about what the rest of their evening will look like, Y/N lead George to the bedroom to get started. They had stood in the middle of their bedroom for what felt like hours, just kissing softly as they gently undressed each other. Once they were both down to nothing, but their underwear George settled in the middle of their bed with his back against the headboard, while Y/N straddled his waist and started to grind down against him. Now a few minutes later, George is fully hard in his boxers while Y/N continues to grind on him, her lips attacking his neck and one of her hands tugging at his hair while the other pinches and rolls his nipples.

“Feel good?” Y/N teases, twisting the nipple in her hand. George lets out a loud moan and Y/N can feel George’s cock twitch against her. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she continues, kissing her way back up to George’s mouth. Y/N tugs on his hair as they kiss, just letting their mouths move together for a few moments. “Are you ready for more?”

“Yes, please,” George confirms with a nod. He can feel some nerves rumbling in his stomach still, but Y/N’s soothing voice and gentle hands have put him at ease. He hasn’t stopped thinking about this moment since he suggested pegging over a week ago, and the picture Y/N sent him has only made him more excited. “Want you to fuck me, Y/N.”

A shiver runs down Y/N’s spine at George’s words, and she kisses him briefly. “Patience, love. We gotta get you ready first. I’m gonna go get dressed. Want you to take your boxers off and lay back on the middle of the bed, yeah?” Y/N kisses George once more as he nods, before getting off the bed and heading into the bathroom attached to their room.

The strapon and lube are already waiting on the bathroom counter, and Y/N takes a deep breath as she shimmies out of her panties and grabs the strapon. She decides to keep her lacy black bralette on, as it’s one of George’s favorites and Y/N knows seeing her in it drives him wild. Y/N secures the strapon like she did this afternoon, groaning as the nubs rub against her clit. She’s already fairly turned on just from the grinding and she can’t imagine it’ll take much for her to cum once she’s fucking into George. She looks at herself one last time in the mirror before grabbing the bottle of lube and heading back into their bedroom. George is completely naked now, laying back on the bed with his head propped up by their pillows so he can watch Y/N’s every move.

“God you’re gorgeous,” George groans as Y/N comes back into the room, his eyes raking over her body. The leather straps wrapped around her skin make her thighs look even more divine, and his mouth waters as he takes notice of the dildo jutting out from between her thighs. “This is way hotter than I thought it would be.”

Y/N giggles as she settles on the bed between George’s legs, tossing the lube onto the bed next to him. “Yeah? You like my cock?” she teases as she hovers over George, attaching her lips to the base of his throat. She thrusts her hips against George slowly, letting the dildo drag against his cock.

George gasps as the dildo drags across his warm skin, a shiver running down his spine. “Shit that’s cold.”

“Sorry, baby,” Y/N apologizes as her lips start to trail down his chest towards his nipples. She lets her hot breath just barely breeze across one before she flicks at it with her tongue. George lets out a low moan, prompting her to give his other nipple the same treatment.

“It’s okay. Felt good,” George stutters out as Y/N takes one of his nipples into her mouth. He can feel the precum collecting on the tip of his cock dripping onto his stomach, and he thrusts his hips up, desperate for some friction.

“Gotta be patient, baby,” Y/N coos as she starts to kiss further down George’s body. “I’ll take care of you, don’t you worry.” Y/N presses a kiss to the tip of George’s cock, pulling away when he groans and thrusts his hips up into her touch. “Don’t be naughty, George,” Y/N warns as she grabs the lube.

George licks his lips as he watches Y/N spread the lube on her fingers, his legs automatically opening a bit wider. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Better be,” Y/N responds as she tosses the lube aside again. She grabs the base of George’s cock with her clean hand, leaning down and sucking the tip between her lips as one of her fingers circles his entrance. She takes him down fully as she sinks the first finger into him, the noise he lets out going straight to her core.

“Oh,” George gasps as Y/N starts to bob her head on his cock, his brain focused on the way her finger feels as it moves inside of him. “Feels good,” George moans, grinding his hips down against her hand. “Feels different, but good.”

Y/N hums around George as she continues to suck his cock, the hand on the base of him twisting as she adds another finger alongside the first. She’d read many guides on the best way to prepare someone, and she moves slowly, wanting George to feel as good as possible.

Y/N works at opening up George for a few minutes, getting up to three fingers into him while her tongue teases the tip of his cock. His hips are rocking down against her hand feverishly, and little mewls are leaving his lips as his chest heaves with deep breathes.

“Fuck me please,” George begs as Y/N crooks her fingers inside of him, his hands fisting in the bed sheets. His whole body feels like it’s on fire, and he’s ready to move on to the next step.

Y/N pulls off of George’s cock and looks up at him, groaning at how beautiful he looks. His chest his flushed red and his hair is messy from his hands running through it. “Yeah, baby? You ready for me to ruin you with my cock?”

George chokes on a moan as Y/N pulls her fingers out of him, suddenly feeling overwhelmingly empty. “God yes, please. Need to feel you inside of me. Wanna be full of your cock, Y/N.”

“Such a desperate little cock slut and I haven’t even fucked you yet, baby,” Y/N teases as she lubes up the dildo. She lets out a quiet moan as she strokes it, the little nubs and ridges on the harness giving her some much needed relief on her aching pussy. “You remember the safe word, right baby?”

George nods, a whimper falling from his lips as Y/N presses the tip of the dildo against his entrance. “I remember, yes,” he confirms, taking in a few shaky breaths.

Y/N grabs one of George’s knees, pushing his leg to the side to give her more room. “You ready, baby? Ready for me to fuck you with my cock? Turn you into a little cock whore?”

“Please,” George begs. He’s rock hard against his stomach and he’s desperate for Y/N to finally sink into him. “Oh my fuck,” George moans as Y/N’s hips push forward slowly, not stopping until the dildo is in him completely and the leather straps are digging into the backs of his thighs.

Y/N rubs George’s hips soothingly, watching his face contort into some mixture of pleasure and pain. “You doing okay, Georgie? Talk to me baby.”

George slowly pushes his hips down against Y/N, a moan falling from his mouth at the sensation. It burns slightly, but in an amazing way, and George feels full in a way he never has before. “Feels so fucking good,” he whines, pushing his hips down against Y/N’s in a steady pace. “Need you to move, Y/N fuck. Please. So full of you, so full of your cock.”

“Fucks sake,” Y/N moans as she starts to move her hips, slowly pulling out of George before she fucks back into him. The noise George lets out as she starts to fuck him goes right to her core, and the feeling of the nubs rubbing against her clit prompts her to slam back into George harder. “You like the way I fuck you, Georgie? Like how my big cock stretches you out?”

“Merlin, yes,” George moans as Y/N starts to move faster one of his hands coming down to stroke his cock in time with her thrusts. “Love the way you fuck me, Y/N. Feels better than I ever thought it would.” George wraps one of his hands around his thigh, pulling his legs up to his chest. The new angle allows for Y/N to fuck into him deeper, and he lets out a long whine as the tip of the dildo finally brushes his sweet spot. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, right there Y/N please,” he begs, as he tips his head back against the pillows.

“Such a fucking slut, baby,” Y/N teases as she starts to fuck into George harder. The bumps and ridges on the harness brush against her clit roughly, and she can feel her wetness dripping down onto her thighs. George looks absolutely ethereal, and it does nothing but push her closer to her own orgasm. His chest is red and covered in a sheen of sweat and the noises falling from his mouth are going right to her core.

George groans as the tip of the dildo brushes his sweet spot with every one of Y/N’s thrusts, and he releases his cock so he can grab his other thigh and bring his leg up to his chest, allowing Y/N to somehow fuck into him even deeper. “Only for you, Y/N. Love being your cock slut.”

“That’s right, baby. My little slut.” Y/N can feel her orgasm approaching, and she wraps her hand around George’s cock, stroking him in time with her thrusts, her thumb rubbing over the tip and spreading his precum down the shaft to make her hand slide easier. “Fuck, George. ‘M gonna cum. Come on, baby. Be a good little cock slut and cum on my cock.”

Y/N’s hand on his cock pushes George over the edge, and he can feel his walls clench around the dildo as he cums, pleasure rolling through his body. Her name leaves his mouth in a loud shout as he shoots his seed all over Y/N’s hand and his own stomach.

“Fuck, George,” Y/N moans as her own orgasm washes over her, the rhythm of her hips stuttering as the pleasure rockets through her body. She releases George’s cock as soon as it stops twitching, letting her hips slow to a gentle roll before pulling out of George completely.

George releases his legs and lets them fall back against the bed, inhaling slowly as he tries to catch his breath. “Fucking Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard.”

Y/N giggles as she crawls up George’s body, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Glad you liked it, because it was so fucking hot, George. Like so unbelievably hot.” She kisses George again, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “I’ll be right back, yeah? Gonna grab something to clean you up.”

Y/N comes back from the bathroom a few minutes later back in the panties she’d taken off earlier, with a washcloth in one hand and a glass of water in the other. She hands George the water with a smile as she settles between his thighs.

“Thanks, love,” George murmurs before taking a sip, nearly chocking as Y/N runs the warm washcloth along his bum. “Could have given a guy some warning,” he teases through his coughing fit.

“Sorry, love,” Y/N giggles as she wipes up his stomach. Once George is clean Y/N tosses the washcloth on the floor for them to deal with later, before crawling back up the bed. “So, feel good?”

George places the empty glass on his bedside table before pulling Y/N into a deep kiss. “My arse is a little sore but other than that yes, incredible.”

“I’ve got some salve you can use tomorrow if you want. Figured it might come in handy.” Y/N pulls back the covers so she and George can get into bed, letting him pull her onto his chest. “I love you, George.”

George chuckles and leans down to press a kiss to Y/N’s forehead. “I love you too, Y/N. Thank you for not thinking I’m a weirdo.”

“I told you,” Y/N muses with a laugh as George grabs his wand, giving it a flick so the lights in their room turn off. “I absolutely think you’re a weirdo, a weirdo who looks super fucking hot cumming on my cock.”

#George weasley #George Weasley smut #gw #golden

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marvel-and-mischief · 3 years

Text

Lavender

Part of my Floriography Series

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader Words: 1700 Warnings: reader is mother of Frankie's newborn, swearing, angst, talk of death Synopsis: Frankie is met with a sour welcome when he returns home from South America

Lavender: mistrust

💐

The blood red door hid the scars of your last encounter with Frankie. The wood had been a pure white but in your fury at what your husband was about to do, you let a gravy jug fly through the air where it landed with a smash in the middle of the open door, denting the surface and chipping the original paintwork. You repainted it a few days later with the only can of paint you’d found in the garden shed, the same paint Frankie had used to decorate your baby’s room halfway through your pregnancy.

It was that very door that you were stood next to now, staring at the man that had walked away from you a few weeks before. You had cried your tears of disbelief, heartbreak, frustration, you had cried them all out. All you had left was indifference at the sight of him returning home.

“Honey,” Frankie pleaded, shoulders slumped, eyes tired and tinged pink with emotions. He looked haggard, drained of everything that made him Frankie. He didn’t seem to even have the energy to look sorry, or hopeful that you wouldn’t slam the door in his face. He just looked defeated.

You didn’t say anything, what could you say? Part of you still loved him and that part refused to turn him away. You left the door open as you turned around and entered the living room. You took a stand in front of the TV on the other side of the room as you heard the door click softly shut and Frankie’s boots shuffled across the carpeted room. It was then you felt your heart rate spike.

Your husband had returned.

Frankie had survived his escapade to South America and was back looking worse for wear. He was back but you knew him well enough to know he had left a part of him somewhere else.

He paused in the doorway, unsure of himself despite the familiarity of home. He helped to pick this house; his pros had been the large driveway at the front to fit his truck and your family sized car, the quiet neighborhood with a park just down the road, the fenced in garden at the back for the puppies he’d always dreamed of having. He’d laid down the carpets himself, fitted the electrical appliances in the kitchen, paid half the mortgage. But as he nervously wrung the strap of his rucksack over his right shoulder and swallowed around the lump in his throat, he looked completely out of place.

“I thought you’d be gone longer.” Your voice was tight and came out frustratingly croaky as you tried to hold it together.

“I came back as soon as I could. Is she-?” Frankie pointed towards the stairs behind him, indicating his three month old daughter who was sleeping soundly in the cot he built.

“Asleep, just gone down.” Don’t go upstairs, don’t disturb her. But what you really wanted to say was you’re not going anywhere near her until we’ve sorted this out. Fortunately Frankie nodded in understanding.

You bit your lip and sighed. “D’you want a drink?”

“Water please.”

You hurried passed Frankie and into the kitchen before the first tear slid down your cheek. You bit your lip against the barrage of emotions threatening to overwhelm you, clutching onto the edge of the sink as you took deep, silent breaths.

You knew this day would come, if he hadn’t died on his little trip that is. In some ways you could have dealt with that a lot better. It was easier to prepare a funeral and carry on life as a single mother than it was to have to have a conversation with your husband about why he upped and left to go on a dangerous mission to steal millions of dollars from a drug lord, leaving his wife and newborn baby behind without any contact to say he was okay.

How do you explain to him that you wanted to kill him yourself when he left? That you felt betrayed that he would leave you in search of something neither of you needed and you certainly didn’t want? That you felt as though he was prioritising money over the importance of him in you and your baby’s life? You had begged him not to go, to tell Santi no, but he went anyway and that still pisses you off.

It pissed you off on day one and every day after. You’d nurse your daughter in front of the window, watching every car that drove by hoping it was Frankie’s truck but always being disappointed. Your ears perked up at every car horn, at the mail being pushed through the letterbox, at your phone ringing from a withheld number.

You let out a shaky breath, grab a glass and fill it with water. You would let him talk, let him grovel, it’s the least he deserves for what he put you through.

When you returned to the living room Frankie had taken a seat on the couch. You placed the glass of water on the coffee table and sat in the armchair across from him.

“I know you probably hate me right now,” Frankie began, eyes trained on his hands as he absentmindedly picked at a hangnail, “I should have listened to you. The whole thing was a bust.”

“So Santi was talking shit about the money?”

“There was money, too much of it. We all agreed to give it to Tom’s family.”

You felt your body go cold. “What happened to Tom?”

You heard Frankie’s muffled sob and you knew without needing to be told that he lost more than just money in South America.

“Fuck,” you deflated into the armchair and watched as Frankie threw his cap to the floor, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

“I should have listened to you,” Frankie repeated himself, quieter this time as he rubbed at his eyes in frustration.

“And the others?” You were close with Benny, regularly cheered him on at his MMA fights before you had the baby. Will was a good man, always asked after you and had your back when you and Frankie had gone through a rough patch a few years ago. And Santi, you’d never seen eye to eye with him, you knew if anyone was going to lead Frankie down the wrong path it would be him, but Frankie loved him like a brother.

“They’re alive,” he confirmed and you nodded in relief.

“That’s good,” you replied, because what else was there to say? The worst had happened but you were glad it wasn’t your husband coming back in a bodybag. As much as you hated him right now, the thought of never seeing Frankie again, of having to tell your daughter one day that her daddy was dead, tore you apart. You were glad he was in front of you to be angry at.

The two of you fell silent, the news of Tom’s death and the mission going wrong hanging heavy between you. You didn’t know what to say without sounding harsh. Fortunately it was Frankie that broke the silence.

“Have you both been okay?”

You wanted to laugh, remind him that you would have been a hell of a lot better at dealing with a newborn if her father was around to help but you bit your tongue and calmed your mind and remembered that what was done was done.

“Good. She’s still not sleeping through the night, but neither am I so it works out fine,” you shrugged. You wouldn’t go into detail why you weren’t able to sleep, you’d keep to yourself that you had nightmares of all the different reasons why Frankie wouldn’t make it back home. The way his eyes widened in guilt told you he probably knew anyway.

“I can take care of her tonight, if you want to try and get a good nights rest,” Frankie offered cautiously, his expression hopeful.

And how could you say no to that? He was a good dad, a natural, doting father and the reason why he’d left the two of you in the first place. And if you wanted to rebuild your relationship you would have to learn to trust him, even though you didn’t.

“That might be nice,” you halfheartedly agreed.

“I don’t want to step on your feet.”

“You’re not. You are but it’s fine. I think she missed you,” you admitted, meeting his eyes with a passive smile. You were trying, that was all he could expect of you.

You saw how tired he was, the pink in his eyes from exhaustion, the wrinkles in his brow from tension he couldn’t shake off, the downward turn of his lips and you suddenly felt the same. You couldn’t fight with him tonight, maybe tomorrow but Frankie needed sleep and peace and the feel of his baby in his arms and you didn’t have it in you anymore to deny him that.

“Go up to her,” you whispered and you think you saw the briefest flash of happiness in his eyes, “but if you wake her it’s your problem.”

Frankie wasted no time in jumping up from his seat. It looked for a second that he was going to step towards you but he thought better of it. He shucked off his boots and coat and padded up the stairs.

And that’s when you cried. All the pent up emotions of his return flooded out of you like a dam breaking. You let the tears fall but contained your sobs, not wanting Frankie to know just how much pain you were in. You were glad to see him home just as much as you were angry he had left in the first place. You had your husband back but you didn’t trust him like you once did, you didn’t trust that he wouldn’t drop you again when Santi called.

For now you’d let him hold his baby and you’d try and get some sleep for the first time since he stepped out the front door. Maybe tomorrow you could continue to repair the cracks in your home.

Permanent tag list: @autumnleaves1991-blog @phoenixhalliwell @anu-simps @computeringturtle @bts17army

#Floriography Series #Frankie Morales #Francisco Morales #Frankie Morales x Reader #Francisco Morales x Reader #Triple Frontier #Pedro Pascal

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mollygetssherlockcoffee · 4 years

Text

For You

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Y/N waits all night for Spencer to come home

Warnings: Angst... maybe swearing, but I honestly can’t remember

Words: 2,451

A/N: My LPC and Masters are kicking my ass... I hate it here :)))))))

PART TWO HERE PART THREE HERE

Master List Permanent Tag List

Shoving the last Dorito in your mouth, you leaned off the couch to grabbing your phone from the coffee table. Your thumb swiped across the screen to accept the call. Muting the TV, you sat up and put the call on speaker, smiling as you heard his voice.

“Hey, Y/N/N” Your boyfriend of three years greeted you.

“Spencer” you smiled into the phone, more than happy to hear from him. “I didn’t speak to you yesterday, I missed you.”

“Yeah, sorry, we caught a break in the case” he apologises. “Did you know, only ten-point-seven percent of murders are committed by women, who tend to kill for reasons such as personal gain or jealousy. Our unsub actually went against the statistic.”

“So, you caught them then?” you asked, biting your lip to conceal your hope.

“Yeah, yeah, we did!” he confirmed, and you were sure that he was nodding. “We’re at the station at the moment but we should be leaving soon. I’ll be home around-” There’s a moment of pause while you assume he looks at his watch. “Around seven, seven-thirty. Definitely no later than eight.”

“Oh, Spencer, that’s great!” you grinned, standing up from the couch. “This week has dragged by without you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon” he assures you. “I have to go though, there a bit of paperwork that needs to be finished before we can leave.” “Okay, no worries. I love you, bye” you say.

“See you soon, love you” he hangs up.

You turned of the TV and quickly got to work cleaning the apartment. It wasn’t dirty, not really, but your breakfast dishes were in the sink and you didn’t take the trash out last night. You had also neglected putting away the laundry and had thrown your coat and bag over the back of a chair, rather than hang them up.

Coming home to an empty apartment had demotivated you this week, making you not bother to keep up with the little things. Though you always missed Spencer when he was away on cases, this week had been especially trying.

You hung your coat up, moving your keys into the little bowl by the door. The laundry was seen to next, the tops separated and hung up while the pants were neatly folded and placed in the draws. Plates were quickly cleaned and dried, put into their place. You wiped down the sides, brushing the crumbs into the bin before quickly running the trash out.

Coming back into the apartment, you washed your hands before moving to the fridge. Having only went shopping a few days ago, it was still well stocked, and it had all the ingredients for Spencer’s favourite meal.

You had grown up with a dad who loved to cook, who had wanted to be a chef. Due to his severe eczema, which he used to tell he had to be ‘wrapped up like a mummy’ for, he was unable to pursue his passion. As such, he had cooked delicious meals at home for you and your mom, passing on recipes and filling you with a passion for food.

Cooking was something you found relaxing. You knew enough recipes by heart to not follow a recipe, but, instead, a pattern within your mind. You could cook your favourite dish without the need to measure herbs or spices, mind zoned out while you prepared the ingredients.

When you had began dating Spencer, he was basically living on coffee with the occasional take-out. Within two months of your relationship, his freezer was fully stocked with frozen home-cooked meals. While his slim physique remained, he did gain a healthy amount of weigh and appeared to look healthier.

It hadn’t taken you long to find out that his favourite was a slow roasted rack of lamb, with rosemary roasted potatoes, butter roasted carrots, broccoli, peas and mash potatoes. You had served the roast lamb at Easter, where Spencer proceeded to spend nearly thirty minutes telling you about the origin of eating lamb at Easter.

“It’s actually related to the Jewish Passover, from when the Egyptians painted lamb’s blood on doors during the plagues of Egypt. When some Jewish people converted, they caried on the tradition. In fact, in Christianity, Jesus…”

Coming from a diverse background (various religions were practiced in your family, some married and converted, others converted, an adopted cousin kept practicing his religion, thus you celebrated many different religions) you knew the some of what he was saying. However, you loved to hear Spencer talk.

Spencer could talk about anything and you would listen. You loved to hear his voice; the way his voice became higher when he got excited. You liked to lean back against the couch, your feet in his lap as he read to you. His voice lulled you into a calm and relaxed state, it put your mind at peace and made everything seem right in the world.

You cleaned the lamb, patting it dry with paper towels become setting it on the chopping board. You trimmed the fat, leaving only a small layer which would cook and add flavour to the meet. Pouring a tablespoon of oil into your hands, you gently rub it into the lamb before adding the spices, careful not to overwork the meat.

The meat was transferred into a dish before moved into the hot oven.

You then moved onto the vegetables. You coated par-boiled potatoes with oil, salt, pepper and rosemary become adding them to the oven. Carrots were peeled and cut, put into a tin-foil bowl with a teaspoon of butter and a sprinkle of sugar. Folding the tin-foil closed, you slid that into the oven too.

Potatoes were peeled, chopped and put on to boil. You cut the broccoli into smaller pieces and add them to a pot and put them onto boil too. Peas remained in a saucepan, covered in water, but you would turn them on in a little while.

You grabbed the latest Doctor Who DVD that Spencer had brought the week previous. You put the first disk into the DVD player and set the box beside the TV. Leaving the screen on the menu page, you left the room and went for a shower.

You looked at the clock again.

20:37

You sighed and looked down at your food which was damn near cold. Your stomach rumbled and you picked up your fork. You weren’t going to wait any longer. While the food is delicious, you don’t enjoy it. You don’t focus on the flavours as you chew and swallow, your mind focused on your thoughts.

Where was Spencer?

You had called his phone multiple times, but it had just rung out. You had called JJ, but she had left work before him. When you had phoned his work and spoken to his boss, Hotch had told you that Spencer had already left for the evening, and suggested you call Derek as they left together. Just like Spencer’s phone, Derek phone had rung out too.

Finishing your food, you took your plate to the sink. Rising the plate, along with the pots and pans, you then filled the sink with bubbly water. Grabbing the sponge, you began to clean.

Your mind was torn on whether to be worried or not. One the one hand, Spencer had said he’d be home – you checked the clock – over an hour ago but he still wasn’t here. He wasn’t at work and he wasn’t answering his phone. You bit your lip. Anything could have happened to him. There could be a problem with the subway, maybe he got injured on the way home, or something else could have happened.

Spencer’s an FBI agent though and is licenced to carry a gun. Not to mention, he’s a literal genius. If he got into trouble, you had no doubt that he would either be able to get himself out or be able to contact someone to raise an alarm.

Your mind told you that he was with Derek, that they were together and gotten distracted one way for another. They were like brothers, and easily got carried away and forgot about the time.

Spencer had to be fine. He had to be.

Hanging his bag on its hanger, Spencer closed the door. He toed off his shoes, pulling his arms from his cardigan. It had been a long night, a long week, in fact, and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed. He smiled at the thought of crawling into bed and curling around you, of cuddling into you and breathing in your scent as he fell asleep.

Spencer used to love going on cases but after he met you, that changed. Now, he wanted to get them over and get home as soon as possible. He missed you every moment he was gone. He missed waking up with you, with your toes pressed into his leg as you sought out his warmth. He missed reading to you in evenings, gazing at your peaceful face as he spoke the words from memory. He missed the kisses before bed, the giggles you’d make when he would tickle your side as you both laid beneath the duvet.

He walked down the small hallway and into the open-plan living room and kitchen. The first thing his eyes land on is the small dining table. His mouth parts a little as he looks at the single plate of food, a knife and fork beside it. it was his favourite meal but he knew it was stone cold, yet he remembered the taste and his mouth watered at the sight.

You had cooked for him.

His stomach began to twist as he turned towards the front room. The TV was on, displaying the menu for a DVD from his new Doctor Who collection, whose box sat beside the TV. Then he saw you, sitting on the couch and watching him.

His stomach dropped. You had been waiting for him. You had cooked him his favourite dinner, put on his favourite show and were waiting for him. He had told you he would be home by eight, and it was nearing one-thirty in the morning. The guilt in his stomach twisted like a knife as you stood up.

He knew you were mad; he could see it in the hard set of your jaw. He could also see the sadness swimming in your eyes as you looked at him. He had let you down, and he knew it wasn’t something you were easily going to forgive him for.

“You said you’d be home at eight” your voice was low, soft, but he could hear the sadness in your words.

“Yeah…” he agreed, he had said that. He had promised that.

“Where were you?” you asked. “I was worried, you didn’t call or anything.”

“Erm… Derek, he…erm… wanted to go to a bar” Spencer replied, looking down at his mix matched socks.

“So you went? You went, knowing that I was here, waiting for you” you shook your head, looking away from him in an attempt to hold back your anger. “You went to a bar with Derek, after telling me you would be home by eight? You didn’t even let me know! I’ve been waiting for you, Spencer, I cooked you dinner and everything.” “Y/N… I’m sorry” he reached out to you but you held up your hand, taking a step back.

He had gone to a pub. A pub. He didn’t even have the decency to call you, or even text, to say that he wasn’t going to be coming home when he said. He had left you to wait for him, to worry for him. And though you’ve hurt, you’re angry. Angry that this is the way he is treating you. He doesn’t even like pubs, so why would he leave you to go to one?

This isn’t the first time he’s done this either. He had done the same thing a month ago, just went out with his team after telling you that he’d be home for dinner in an hour. You had fell asleep on the couch waiting for him that night.

“You always do this to me” You shook your head, looking at him in disappointment. And, looking at your face, Spencer thought that was worse that seeing you angry.

“What?” He asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Abandoning me, you do it all the time!” You say. “You get called on a case and you don’t tell me, you leave me waiting at a restaurant. Stood up. You don’t tell me when your cases get extended, you tell me you’ll be gone two days but its six.”

“Y/N-” he begins, but you quickly cut him off.

“I don’t mind you going to clubs with Derek. I’m fine with cancelling plans because of work, I don’t mind that you’re called away” you tell him. “However, you don’t communicate with me. You stand me up, all the time. You don’t even call, and I’m tired of it. I did this for you Spencer.” You spread your arms out to gesture at the food and TV. “I try to do stuff for you and it goes to waste. Dinner reservations, movie nights, personal museum tours. They could have been rescheduled or the deposits refunded, if you had spoken to me. I… I’m tired of this Spencer. A relationship can’t work without communication.”

Spencer’s mouth is dry at your words, his own eyes stinging as he gazes sadly at your face. He can see how much it has affected you, how hurt you are but his actions. You were right though, he never called or texted you to let you know he wouldn’t be there for any of those things. His mind played over your words and his stomach twisted as the final sentence registered in his brain.

“What are you saying?” his voice is scratchy as he forces the words out, his fists clenched as he struggles not to cry.

“Maybe… Maybe we should take a break… for you to consider whether you can be committed, in all aspects, to this relationship” your voice is quiet as you answer him, your own eyes swimming with tears. “I’ll sleep in the spare room tonight, and then tomorrow… Well, Natasha said that I Could spend a few nights at hers.”

Spencer watched as you turned away from him, walking towards the spare room. You didn’t look back as you closed the door, and, finally, the tears fell from his eyes. This was it, he had lost you because he failed to do the most simple thing in a relationship. You were leaving him.

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bicycle4two · 3 years

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say you wanna, say you wanna be || Sam Drake x Reader || Chapter 3

Summary: Sam isn't looking for a girlfriend and, frankly, you don't think you'd be a good one anyway, but you two aren't some one-night stand and it's been a long time since either of you thought of each other as a convenient booty call. This is something more, something the two of you didn't realize would be. It's uncharted territory. And there is no other choice but to figure out how to navigate through it together.

Pairing: Sam Drake x Fem!Reader

Tags(ish): developing relationship, implied/non-explicit sexual content, romance/fluff/hurt/comfort, age difference (though reader’s age is not stated), switching povs (second person reader, third person sam), no y/n but reader has a nickname

C.1 || C.2

Chapter Three:

There’s a memory that haunts you from when you were young. It’s always there at the back of your mind, coming up at the most inconvenient of times. Well, it’s not like there is a convenient time for you to remember such a thing but sometimes it catches you when you’re at a really bad place.

Sometimes you remember it when you have one who hides their phones for more reasons than just “privacy,” one who only takes you out when there’s no one around who knows the two of you, one who disappears without a trace only to come back with flowers and excuses, the smell of another woman’s perfume on their clothes.

Sometimes you remember it when there’s nothing for you to worry about, like now, when you’re under Sam, his weight more comforting than suffocating, trying to catch your breath after a mind shattering orgasm. Your ceiling, something that’s never been impressive before, has your full attention as you try to gather yourself, lure your soul back into your body.

“I-I think. I think I lost my vision for a second there,” you breathe out, earning a chuckle from Sam.

“You flatter me, princess.”

“What was that? I can’t hear either,” you push your hair away from your face. It’s damp with sweat. You’re going to need another shower. “I think I entered another dimension. I think I saw God.”

Sam pushes himself off of you and kisses you gently on the lips. You’d think he was asking for another round if he wasn’t as tired as you. “Not God,” he says, voice deep. He’s caught his breath, the rise and fall of his chest steady. It’s kind of funny that a smoker can recover faster than you. “Just me.”

And it’s the word “just” that sticks to you, that repeats itself over and over in your head, that brings forth the memory that you’ve desperately try to keep at the back of your mind, locked up and buried. It’s the memory of a phone screen, a chat with a coded name, pictures of a woman you don’t know. A woman who isn’t your mother that your father messages, saves pictures of.

You were young when you found out, much younger than you are now, and although deep down, you knew, you’ve always known your father was a man who could not be trusted, a man who had straying eyes, long trips with women he called friends, you were hurt. Betrayed. Because you always thought that things like this only happened on TV, in books, to friends and classmates.

But not you.

And yet, here you are, in bed with a man who hides his phone, disappears for long periods of times, and has a history you don’t even know where to begin to look into. A man who acts so much like the ones before, only sweeter, gentler, but still suspicious.

And you’ve been hurt by men like him before and you don’t know if you can take another blow. Not from someone like Sam.

So, you push away the memory and say, “Just you and,” And you hesitate for a second, find the courage somewhere deep inside you to ask, to finally ask, “And it’s just me, right?”

“You scared me for a second,” Sam lets out a breath you didn’t know he was holding and you realize that you had paused at the wrong word, the double meaning. You offer him a small smile, an apology. “Yes, it’s just you.” He confirms and you feel yourself relax, only away now of how tense you were.

“Good,” you say, looking back up at your ceiling. “That’s good. I, uh, I wasn’t sure.”

“This has been bothering you?” Sam gets off of you and you instinctively cover yourself with a pillow as Sam has your blanket thrown over his waist. You never thought you’d have this conversation with him. You never thought you’d get to ask one of your questions and actually get an answer. You wish that you had clothes on for this.

“A bit,” you say. “I know we aren’t, well, a thing, but when I saw you with your sister-in-law and when I didn’t know she was your sister-in-law, I have to say, I panicked.”

“You thought I was cheating on you?” Sam lets out a chuckle like the thought of it is absurd but he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know what went through your mind that day in the café.

“I thought you were cheating on her. I’m not really a fan of being the other woman.”

Sam winces and you can see that there’s something he wants to ask but doesn’t know if he should. Huh. You wonder if you’re that easy to read.

“From experience,” you end up saying anyway, just because you know how it feels to have your questions answered. “It would be nice, I think, if we’re clear on some things. Be on the same page, you know?”

“I’m not looking for a girlfriend.” Sam looks at you straight in the eye, like this is important, that if you don’t get this then that’s that. And you do get it because for all the things you don’t know about Sam, you can at least say you knew this.

“I know. I can’t say I’d be a good one anyway.” You know you can’t base your worth on past relationships but sometimes you can’t help but think that there was something you lacked, that you came up short somewhere, that made the relationships turn sour. Psychopaths and unfaithful husbands aside. “But we aren’t exactly a one-night stand anymore.”

Sam rubs the back of his neck and the action causes you to look at his tattoos, the familiar sight of birds in flight. Tim had mentioned them that day in the café, said something about prison tattoos, and you’d just rolled your eyes at him. But then you think about the scars and gunshot wounds and you can’t exactly say that Sam lives a normal, danger-free life.

“So, what do you want, princess?” Sam asks, reaching down to pick up his shirt. It seems like his clothes weren’t flung too far from the bed. You can see your pants by your bedroom door. “Cuz I don’t know what I can give ya.”

“Well,” you play with the ends of your pillow case just so you have something to do with your hands. There are so many things you want. Answers, for one thing. That’s number one. But Sam looks tired and you sort of feel guilty for springing this on him. Because, again, this isn’t a normal relationship. He doesn’t owe you anything and if you ask for more than he can give, well, this just isn’t going to work.

And you want this to work. You can’t deny yourself that truth. You want whatever it is Sam can give you. So, you say, “It wouldn’t hurt if you’d give me a heads up before you leave for God knows where. It’s not fun thinking you’ve gotten tired of me and just disappeared off of the face of the earth.”

Sam lets out a breath you don’t think he realized he was holding. “A call, I can do that.”

“You can even just text me. Email. I don’t have a pager but if that’s how you work…”

“I’m not that old, princess,” Sam rolls his eyes, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll call you. I promise.”

And it’s the word “promise” that sticks to you, that repeats itself over and over in your head, that brings a smile to your face.

...

It’s the same old song and dance and you swear you’d give up your left kidney for the tune to change, for the choreography to switch up, because Tim’s on your case again and you’re getting really close to filing a request that you two don’t share the next few shifts together.

(But then Agatha would be questioning you as well and you’re sure that half the questions Tim asks are echoes of Agatha’s and she’s honestly the harder of the two to deal with. So, damnit, you’re going to have to suck it up. Deal with the kid.)

“Is this really the kind of relationship you want to have?” Tim asks, leaning against his broom for support. The café’s closed for the day and the two of you are in charge of cleaning and inventory. Agatha’s in the back, balancing the day’s earnings.

“This again, Tim?” You glare at the stain on the table your wiping, spraying it once more before scrubbing the surface harder. You’re not going to lie, you’re picturing Tim’s face, attacking your imagination instead of the person. Even if it’s tempting, oh so tempting.

“It’s just weird that he just goes off unannounced and doesn’t come back for weeks.”

“Ever heard of a business trip?” The table is shaking from your force, the surface almost like a mirror from how shiny it’s getting.

Tim scoffs. “I’ve seen your boyfriend—”

“Not my boyfriend.”

“—And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have a nine to five office job.” Tim goes back to sweeping even though the floor is clean. He really should get the mop but he hates handling it. “Also, daddy kink? Didn’t think you were the type.”

“Oh my God. It’s not like that!” You groan, throwing your dirty rag at him. Tim yelps when it hits him on the back. Honestly, he should have seen it coming. “And we’ve talked, okay? Ages ago. He doesn’t leave without warning anymore.”

“The bar is really low.”

“Shut up, Tim.” Your phone is ringing, saving you from this conversation and punching your co-worker in the face. “Hello?” You say once you answer your phone, smiling. It’s Sam.

“Hi, princess,” Sam grunts out and you frown at his tone.

“Hi, uh, are you okay?”

Tim is looking at you now, blatantly listening in, and you turn your back to him, facing the painting on the wall. You never really understood this piece, but Agatha likes it.

“Yeah. I’m great! Just—wait a second.” You hear Sam suck in a breath and all of a sudden there’re gunshots. You jump in surprise, shoulders rising, tense, and you have to pull your phone away from your ear from the sheer volume of it. “Okay. I’m back.”

“Sam. Please tell me you’re playing a video game.”

“Huh? Yeah, sure, if that makes you feel better. Wait.” You hear the crunch of gravel, quick and quiet footsteps, and then the sound of surprise before a crack and thud. “Sorry. Anyway, so I have a problem.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask what it is.”

“It’s nothing bad. I promise,” his voice is quiet now. Like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear him. “Y’see. I told you about my job, right?”

“I mean, all you said was you were going to…I want to say Japan. You were in India last time.”

“Yeah! Beautiful country, by the way. We should go next time.” Sam says in one breath and you feel your heart skip a beat. A trip? With Sam? “If I don’t get banned from the place. Which would be a shame, really, cuz the food’s great—hang on.”

There’re gunshots again and then running. You don’t realize that you’re outside the café until a strong wind blows by. You had walked out the door when it seemed like this wasn’t going to be a normal check in. Which was almost immediately, to be frank. From the corner of your eye, you see Tim watching you, broom still in his hands, the rag on the floor by his feet. You wave him off, turning your attention back to Sam. You hear him shout “This is a goddamn temple! Show some respect!” before he gets back to you.

“Where was I?”

“What the hell is going on, Sam?”

“Nothing to worry about, princess. What there is to worry about is my fish.” Sam’s whispering again, ragged. He’s catching his breath. “Y’see. I told you where I was going but I forgot to tell my little brother and, well, someone has to feed my fish.”

“Oh.” You ignore the crunch and thud you hear from Sam’s line. You’re too busy thinking about this fish you’ve never heard of. There’s so much information to unpack right now but the fish is what you zero in on. It’s the only thing that makes sense. “Oh shit.”

“Oh shit’s right. I can’t believe I forgot Jimmy like that.”

Jimmy? “Can, can a fish live this long without food?”

“Now, princess, that’s not the kind of talk I need to hear right now.” There are sounds of movement again. Rustling now, too. Like leaves. “I need you to tell me that Jimmy’s going to be fine. That I did not just leave my fish to die alone.”

“I’ll go to him. Just, uh, I don’t have your key.” You know where he lives, you’ve been there a few times when all of this started, pre-Jimmy, but Sam was always there. You never needed to go there alone and you were never left there alone.

“You have one. I left my spare in your room. Y’know, for emergencies.”

“Were you ever going to tell me that?”

“Didn’t think I had to. It’s in plain sight, princess.” He grunts out. “Listen, I have to go, but check your dresser. It should be there. Save Jimmy!!”

Jimmy is, thankfully, miraculously, fine. His tank needs a little cleaning but you’ve fed him and made sure that there’s enough water for him to swim around in. The top of his castle was starting to peak out. When that’s all done, you send a picture to Sam. You don’t think he’ll see it anytime soon so you toss your phone away and collapse onto his couch.

You’re tired. Apparently getting Sam’s spare key wasn’t as easy as you thought because after sprinting to the bus stop and up the stairs to your apartment, stumbling into your bedroom, you did not find a key at your dresser. No.

After messing up what was once an organized table, you find a note that was clearly written by Sam stuck on your corkboard along with all your other notes written for yourself. Reminders that you needed to go through before the start of your day. Things you’ve long since memorized and never bother to read anymore. That’s Sam’s idea of an “in plain sight” note. Which is also a clue, a riddle that led you to another part of your room, then to your kitchen, underneath your couch, and then to your bedside table, the side he sleeps on. There you find the key taped under a laminated flower. It was the one you had with you when you’d first met Sam. And if Sam recognized it, and you’re pretty sure he did, well you’re glad he wasn’t around for you to find it.

Your phone rings, jolting you out of your daze. You almost fell asleep, the adrenaline gone. You reach for it, refusing to leave your spot, and manage to answer it before the caller hung up. To your surprise, it’s Sam.

“Finally figured out video call?” You say once his face appears on your screen. His holding his phone a little too close but you don’t correct him, finding it cute.

“And you found the key!” Sam says back. “Thanks for saving Jimmy, princess.”

“I read somewhere that goldfish can actually go two weeks without food.”

“Doesn’t mean he has to. C’mon. That’s my roommate.”

“I’m just saying,” You smile because even you wouldn’t want to leave a fish hungry. “Oh. Also. You and I have completely different interpretations of ‘for emergencies.’”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“If I left you something for emergencies, I’d like to think you’d be able to get to it immediately.” You whip the smile of your face. Exchange it with a raised brow, an unamused gaze. “Making me hunt for clues all over my apartment isn’t something I’d like to do in emergency situations.”

Sam lets out a laugh. “Ah. Well, I guess I picked up a few things from work.”

“It would have bitten you in the ass if I didn’t find that key.”

“I had faith in you, princess.”

...

Chapter 4

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#samuel drake #sam drake #samuel drake x reader #sam drake x reader #sam drake fanfiction #uncharted #uncharted 4 #uncharted fanfiction #a thief's end #fanfic #self indulgent writing

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