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lemonlover1110 · 1 year

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The Insincerity of the Stars

Suguru Getou

[Chapter 25] Moving On

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Pairing: Suguru Getou x f!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Stabbing

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*Can't believe this is the end, I had so much fun writing this

Suguru doesn’t come to your apartment that night. You’re thankful for the loneliness because it helps you figure out what you want to do. You’re obviously going to leave him, but you’re not sure how. Do you want to leave town again, or do you want to stay and attempt to move on?

You work together, so leaving seems like the best option. But running away feels like what you always do. You learned that Suguru will find you anyway. Maybe you can move on, find someone new and start over right here. It also seems like a sweet method of revenge. Suguru watching as you move on. But that thought leaves your mind quickly. You don’t know if Suguru even cares for you, plus moving on just to get revenge isn’t good for you.

Thinking about yourself is what you should do. Getting revenge should be the last thing on your mind. Moving on with your life, and trying to be happy– Whether it’d be by yourself or with someone else, here or in the middle of nowhere.

The raging side of you wants to break it off the worst way possible. Have Suguru catch you cheating on him with some other guy, however, that won’t end well. You don’t want Suguru to look down on you for that, in fact, you want him to end things somewhat well so he’ll forever think about how severely he messed everything up. You’ll confront him, and that’s it. That’ll be the way you end things off.

Just thinking about it makes you feel as if your heart is about to beat out of your chest. Your blood boils while tears flood your eyes. You knew Suguru would mess up, just not like this. You never expected Suguru to betray you with another woman.

You can’t sleep that night, you toss and turn on your bed until the sun is nearly out again. That’s when your body can finally fall asleep. You wake up around four hours later, extremely tired but even more nervous about how you’ll deal with everything today. You know that he’ll show up here soon. He’ll show up, apologize for everything, and then ask what’s wrong. You can already hear him ask where your engagement ring is. Just that mere thought fuels you up, and you grip your toothbrush a little too hard when you brush your teeth.

You find it hard to get ready that morning, but you refuse to stay in your bed and cry for him. You won’t waste your day nor your tears on him.

You want to text Shoko, but you know better. She was opposed to the relationship since it began, so you doubt you’ll hear words that will make you feel better. You have no one to comfort you at this time, and it’d be one of the things that pain you the most, if it weren’t for the fact that your fiancée has literally been lying to you for the past six months. He’s becoming a father.

You sit on your couch, just looking out the window. Feeling lifeless. You shouldn’t even be feeling like this because you swore you were ready to take it when Suguru would screw up again.

You’re so lost that you fail to hear the door open. You feel him kiss the top of your head, and you feel nauseous. You regret giving him a spare key to your place.

“Good morning, my love. How are you doing?” Suguru asks, and your jaw clenches. He takes a seat next to you, and he grabs your left hand. He immediately notices your engagement ring missing, you never take it off. “Where’s your ring? Did you forget to put it on?”

“I gave it away.” You answer, not bothering to look at him while you take your hand back. Just touching him makes you want to puke. You have to scoot away from him because he’s too close for your liking, and his cologne is a pungent smell. “I was thinking about selling it and going on a nice vacation, but I saw this homeless woman and thought about how she needs it more than me. I have enough money to go on a vacation.”

“What? Are you crazy? That was my mother’s ring. A very expensive ring, dare I tell you.” Suguru sounds agitated when you respond. You stand up and begin to walk to your bedroom. He stands up and begins to follow.

“Yeah, I know it’s expensive. That’s why I gave it away.” You nonchalantly reply. You begin to look through your drawers for your scissors, and when you find it, you go through your closet. You pick Suguru’s clothes and begin to cut them up, and Suguru’s eyes widen.

“What the hell has come over you?” He asks, trying to take the scissors out of your hands when he sees you cutting up one of his favorite shirts. It’s why you picked that one to start on. “What the hell?!”

“Over me? I’m fine, Suguru!” You raise your voice when he takes the scissors out of your hand. You push him away since he stands too close to you, “What the hell is wrong with you?! You really thought I wouldn’t find out?!”

“Find out what?” Suguru questions, attempting to act confused but you can’t buy it. Even if you tried, you couldn’t. Your bottom lip quivers and you can’t even look at him. You’re not going to break down in front of him, “Find out what?!”

“Don’t play dumb, Suguru! I’m so fucking tired of your shit. Why did you get back with her?! Is this some kind of joke to you?!” You yell at him, and Suguru freezes. He’s been caught. “You know what? Congratulations. You’re becoming a father.”

“Baby… Please. Let’s talk about it.” Suguru changes his voice so it’s so much more gentle. He takes a seat on the side of your bed, scratching his head. “It’s not what you think–”

“That baby is yours, isn’t it?” You ask him. Suguru doesn’t respond until you raise your voice, repeating the same question, “That baby is yours, isn’t it, Suguru?!”

“Yes! It’s mine but–” He begins but you cut him off as you laugh in utter disbelief.

“Take your stuff and leave. You’re a fucking idiot. What were you even planning on doing in marrying me? Were you planning on leaving me at the altar?” You question, your voice breaking as you speak. This is much harder than you thought. Suguru just thinks of what to say, and the silence slowly kills you. “Answer!”

He grabs your hand and pulls you closer to him, before wrapping his arms around your waist. You try to push him away, but he won’t let you. “Let go of me, Suguru.”

“I love you so much, please…” He begins and your hands go to his face, only for your nails to dig into his skin. It hurts him, but he isn’t going to complain when bigger issues are on his plate. “Please… You’re the love of my life. I wanted to get married fast so we could move away and forget about everyone and everything here. I landed a job in a town that’s two hours away, and that was going to be my excuse. Let’s move away and pretend as if nothing happened.”

“Suguru, you cheated on me. You don’t understand how big that is. I can’t just look past that.” You respond, a million thoughts flooding your head. “How can I even trust you after you left me last night just to meet up with her? Who do you even love?”

“I love you. Just you. I’d die without you. Let’s just move away.” His voice is so soft while speaking to you. He looks up at you, his eyes so tender, and there’s a spark behind them. He isn’t lying, but at this point what the hell do you know.

“Move away? You’re becoming a father… What are you planning on doing? Abandoning your child?” You’re baffled. You furrow your eyebrows while looking down on him, as you remove your fingernails from his face. You’d almost feel bad for the bit of blood that comes out, but Suguru deserves that and more “Abandoning your child for what?”

“I love you. You’re the only person I need in my life. I’m sure he’d grow up fine without me.” He responds.

“I’m the only person you need?” You scoff. “Then why did you go back to her when we started dating? Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“My mother asked me to! She asked me to see her for a while and see if I wanted to get back with her. I was planning on leaving her after a month or two but she got… Pregnant.” He ends up confessing. “But we can leave, baby. Just me and you. We’re all we need. We can start our own little family somewhere else and–”

Instead of cutting him off by speaking, you cut him off by spitting on his face. When he feels your saliva on his nose, running down, he can’t speak. He finally lets go of you and wipes it off. “You’re an idiot if you think I’m ever starting a family with you.”

You begin to look through the closet again, picking out his clothes and throwing them on the floor. He stands up and gets in front of you before getting on his knees, tears welling up in his eyes and they spill when he begins to talk.

“Please… We can work this out.” He begins and instead of throwing the clothes on the floor, you throw them directly at him. You’re trying your best to make it hurt. “Can we please talk about it?”

“Suguru, if you’re not out of this apartment in five minutes–” You pick up the scissors that he tossed aside. “I’m stabbing you.”

“Baby, please… Let’s give it some time.”

Suguru wasn’t out of your apartment in those five minutes, and you stuck to your word. He ended up going on a trip to the hospital with a pair of scissors in his abdomen. A random pair of scissors he ran into, magically; or at least that’s what he told the doctor and nurses. His now ex-fiancée had nothing to do with it.

Afterwards he tries to talk to you about it, but you refuse to see him. You don’t share an office anymore so ignoring him is fairly easy. He tries to tell you how much he loves you, then he tries to guilt trip you. This time he realizes he’s lost you, and it pains him more than anything.

His last attempt to talk to you is by leaving the ultrasound picture of your baby, a picture he has carried around for years. In the back he wrote the name he wanted for the baby, and then how much he loved you. How he needed to talk to you so desperately. But it didn’t work.

On the contrary, you were gone the very next day.

Five years go by, and Suguru just looks out the window, hoping that he’ll see you again. He hopes to randomly see you, but he doubts that he’ll ever find you in the suburbs. He still holds onto that hope though.

He’s a father now, and he’s also married. He wishes he could say he loves his life the way it turned out, but he truly doesn’t. If it weren’t for his son, he’d absolutely hate it. He doesn’t like his home life, so he spends most of his time working. He adores his son, but Suguru holds this resentment– Which isn’t his child’s fault, but often he wonders what could’ve been. He wonders where he’d be right now if he had gotten to marry you. If you had chosen to leave with him.

Whenever Suguru gets home, he tries to do so as quietly as possible. He doesn’t like drawing the attention to him to then be bombarded by questions by his wife. None of them about his day, just nagging about things he has to do. It feels like he married his mother, and he hates it. He often thinks about getting a divorce, but that’s just dumb. He’s lost everything, he might as well stick with this.

“Daddy!” Suguru hears, and he smiles. That’s all Suguru has. He picks up the five-year-old that comes running to him, and Suguru kisses his forehead.

“How are you? How was your day?” Suguru asks, and as soon as he says that, he hears his name. A sigh escapes his lips before he puts his son down on the floor. “What?!”

“You got some mail!” His wife yells from the kitchen, and Suguru walks to the kitchen. He goes to the counter and grabs the opened envelopes. There’s truly no privacy in the house, and he hates it. “Who is Shoko?”

“Shoko?” Suguru responds, furrowing his eyebrows. He looks for the envelope that might have something containing anything from Shoko. He finds it, and he finds a wedding invitation. He feels his heart stop, thinking that you’re getting married to Shoko. But he sees the other name, and it’s not yours. “She’s an old friend…”

“Really? How long ago because I’ve never heard of her and she’s sending you a wedding invitation.” She says, making Suguru sigh. He wonders why she’s doing this. Shoko hasn’t bothered to communicate with him in the past five years. She doesn’t have to show off anything since she isn’t marrying you so… Why did she decide to send an invitation? “Suguru? Aren’t you going to answer? Don’t you think I forgot that little stunt you pulled while I was pregnant.”

“Shut up, you’re so irritating. I just got home.” Suguru ends up walking away. His brain is going a thousand miles an hour. He reads the invitation over and over again while he walks to the living room, and his son follows behind him. His son sits down beside him on the couch.

“What’s that, daddy?”

“Just got something from an old friend, buddy. Nothing fun.”

Suguru decides to go to Shoko’s wedding. He has nothing to lose, and he came to the conclusion that maybe he’ll see you there. Maybe he can convince you to leave with him this time. It’s been five years, you’re definitely less mad than before. Although his plan isn’t so easy. His wife wants to join him.

His plan seems nearly impossible to accomplish when he doesn’t see you in the ceremony. You’re not the other bride, and he doesn’t see you sitting around anywhere. His wife sees how he’s searching for something, but she doesn’t get any kind of answer when she asks what he’s looking for.

At the reception is when he finally sees you. Looking as beautiful as ever, wearing a navy blue dress that’s outshined by the beautiful diamonds on your neck, your wrist and your ears. His heart skips a beat, and he feels his face get warm. And then he realizes that Shoko arranged for you to sit together. It feels like Shoko and the universe are on his side.

You blatantly ignore him when you take a seat, and that’s what he focuses on until the blond man takes a seat beside you and kisses your cheek. His wife is glaring at you, remembering you as clearly as yesterday, while Suguru holds back tears realizing that you’ve moved on. But then he thinks about Hiromi and how he managed to scare Hiromi away, why can’t he do that with this fool.

“Kento, I have to use the bathroom. I’ll be right back.” You stand up and begin to walk away. Suguru takes a hint, or he thinks he does and ends up standing up. He’s thinking about his engagement party, and the very fun events which he thinks about way too often.

Suguru walks into the bathroom, and locks the door behind him so no one else can come in. You’re the only one occupying a stall. When you finish using the bathroom, your eyes widen when you see Suguru leaning against the sinks, waiting for you. You begin to wash your hands, trying your best to ignore him.

“You look really beautiful tonight.” Suguru says, and you ignore him as you wash your hands. You promised yourself that you wouldn’t talk to him ever again, even if it’s been five years since you left him again. But you have so many questions.

“Meet me outside in an hour or so.” You tell him while drying your hands, and he holds back a smile.

Suguru waits outside, his hands in his pockets as he looks around for you. It’s the beginning of summer, so he doesn’t mind waiting outside because it’s warm. He hears the distant sound of the music that comes from the inside but it’s overshadowed by the sound of crickets. He takes a deep breath and looks up at the night sky.

“Hi…” He hears, and that’s when he sees you. With your date right beside you. Suguru weakly smiles as he greets you two. Your lips kiss your date before you tell him, “I’ll be back inside in a minute, baby. I promise it’ll be okay.”

Kento cups your face and kisses your lips, leaving his lips on yours for a long moment so Suguru will take the hint. Suguru doesn’t have all night, he told his wife that he needed a moment, and he knows she’ll be out here in a couple of minutes to bother him. Kento pulls away and walks away.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Suguru questions and you furrow your eyebrows at the question. Mainly because his initial thought was that Kento was a boyfriend and not your husband.

“Husband.” You answer. “I just wanted to see how you’ve been..” You lie. You don’t really care. You just want to see where he’s at in life, and the petty side of you wants to see if you’ve won. Although that’s not something you can measure. And maybe you want to brag. “How’s your wife? Your kid?”

“They’re… Fine.” Suguru replies. He can’t ask you to leave with him now because he’ll get rejected. He does have a question though, “Do you… hate me? I mean you did stab me and after that I never heard from you– Not that I didn’t give you a reason to hate me.”

“Hmm… I don’t.” You respond. “For a long time I thought I did. But then I met Kento. I got a mother-in-law who loves me. A husband who used to put me above anyone else. I thought I still hated you until I got married, and on my wedding night I realized that if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have met the love of my life.”

“He used to put you above everything?” Suguru asks, sticking to one part of all you said. He’s trying to paint Kento in a bad light. “What happened? Shouldn’t he always put you above–”

“We had kids. We had our daughter and then our son. He puts them above everyone and everything else. I want him to. I don’t need a man that puts a woman above his own kid.” You interrupt him, and Suguru bites down on his lip, knowing that your last sentence is meant to criticize him.

“You’re a mother now? Congratulations. That’s so nice to hear.” He feels the tears welling up in his eyes, feeling hurt that you’ve moved on. Hypocritical. He chews on the inside of his cheek before he blurts out, “Are you happy?”

“I never thought I could ever be so happy.” You smile. “How about you?”

“No.” He ends up shaking his head, his voice breaking and a tear escaping his eye. You end up pouting, almost feeling bad for him. You wrap your arms around him and he returns your hug. You pat his back while he says, “I miss you so much. I love you. I hate life without you.”

“Aw…” You say, holding back on smirking, knowing that in the end you won. “This is what you chose Suguru. Maybe you should’ve thought twice before deciding to make your mother happy.”

“I know, baby. I know. I think about you all the time. About our life.” He tells you as you pull away from the hug, and he tries to hang on because he’s not ready to let go.

“Shouldn’t you be happy? In the end you’ve made your mother happy by marrying her.” You respond, holding back on smiling. “This is what you chose. You should be happy. I know I’m over the moon with what I chose.”

“I just… I miss you so much.”

“I know.” You tell him. “I should get back inside. Kento is waiting for me. Plus, I promised Shoko I’d dance with her.”

“Okay…” Suguru awkwardly says, watching as you walk away. He tries to stop the tears before walking back inside, and while he does so, his wife walks out.

“Why– Are you okay?” She notices how he wipes away his tears.

“I love her.”

🏷 @witchofoe @cactustattoo @hayatxlife @dearsunaa @dmnbby @mykyoon @luvs-wrld @b3ast1706 @crispmarshmallow @matchabluebeiry-for-nanami @nobody289x @brownskinnedgirll @watyousayin @lilith412426 @cloudsinthecosmos @todoroki-slut @pinkfilmcamera @nothisispatrick300 @lilithlunas @tojianddabisslut @thisbicc @rumi-rants @chloee0x0 @megumisemo @ingenii-supra-modum @shartnart1 @oi-loverboy @peachtrbl @didy-na @katykat71114

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invisibleraven · 6 months

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I think I have always loved you--rulie?

When Reggie was a kid, he thought his parent's job as scientists studying the paranormal was super cool-it was like they were GhostBusters!

Only they never seemed to catch anything, and he soon figured out that if it weren't for investors who enjoyed throwing away their money, the Peters would be out on the street.

By the time he was a teenager, Reggie thought his parents were incredibly lame. They constantly went around in their ghost hunting suits, looking slightly manic as they failed time and time again to find anything. They were spending more time hunting for spectres than with their son.

Reggie tried to get into it, just for the bonding time. But he was better with machines than the supernatural stuff, so at least they came to him to help with repairs rather than never.

Then they made the portal, to what they explained was the ‘ghost zone’-the place where ghosts went when not haunting the living. Reggie wasn’t sure it existed, but if they could get it working… it would mean big things.

Maybe they could even take a vacation!

Of course it didn’t work, wouldn’t even turn on, and his parents walked away in defeat.

“I’m gonna try and fix it,” he told his best friend Julie. She had been his constant companion since childhood, and even if she didn’t get the whole ghost thing, she supported him in his every endeavour. He couldn’t tell her the truth though, knew she would pity him when her parents were so attentive and loving at all times.

“Do you want my help?” she asked. “I can hand you wrenches and screws and the like.”

“That’d be great.”

So the next afternoon, Reggie put on his own ghost hunting suit-more so to keep his clothes clean than anything-and went into the portal. He could see the disconnected wires from the start, so he began twining them together, attaching each one to where it needed to be.

“Reggie are you sure this thing is powered off?” Julie called from the lab. “It’s kinda humming!”

“What?” he called as he connected the last wire. And a great jolt of electricity shot through him, sending him flying back to the lab, Julie screaming his name.

When he blinked his eyes open, Julie was looking down at him. “Hey,” he said, then coughed. “That hurt.”

He shivered then, and he could see his breath, a bluish wisp. That was new. He lifted his hand up and saw his jumpsuit was changed somehow. Wasn’t it white before? Now it was black.

He looked at Julie, and saw the fear in her face. “Jules?”

“I think you’re dead,” she whispered. “Only… maybe not? You’re still in your body but you look…”

She held up a mirror from her purse, and Reggie looked at himself. His once black hair was now Snow White, his eyes now a glowing ghoulish green rather than the greyish green they were before. “What happened?”

“I think the ghost place infected you,” Julie said. “I saw-well they had to be ghosts come out.”

Reggie groaned. “Well I best get them back in there, because goodness knows my folks won’t catch them.”

“So you’re going to be some half ghost superhero?” Julie asked him.

“I dunno about that,” Reggie said. “I don’t know if I have powers or anything. I just know this is my fault, and I have to fix it. Why, will you stop loving me if I become Ghost Dude or something.”

“I think I’ve always loved you,” Julie admitted, but quietly, so quiet that Reggie almost missed it. “More than you know. But we’re getting you a better super hero name and figuring it out together.”

“Sounds good,” Reggie said, and went to grab her hand, only it went through. “Powers first because I don’t know if I wanna live without kissing you much longer.”

Julie giggled, and sat down across from him, the two of them spending the afternoon figuring it out. And by the time Phantom had it handled, he had also given Julie a very long kiss that made her shiver-for all the right reasons.

#filled prompts #ficlet #rulie #julie and the phantoms #because I had yet to do a danny phantom au #gosh this got long

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storiesofsvu · 2 months

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Alright. It’s Thursday let’s see how tonight goes…

Weird opening that’s for sure

That blue suit on mechad is fucking gorgeous

Wtf is happening?!!!!?? Is this gonna be one of those twisty episodes? We’re only halfway through…

YES! SAM! Give her more screen time PLEASE

The like, main thing here would be finding the dancer, yes?

The lawyers have a good point with this recording, but it’s all speculation at this point…

I KNOW I know this defence attorney from somewhere… hold pls while I try to figure it out lol

Goddammit it’s not on imdb yet…

Okay so defence found the witness and honestly that just made everything way more complicated. YES, he killed the guy in (self) defence/trying to help/save the girl, BUT he’s still a racist pos who strangled the guy for three minutes after he stopped breathing. Also what was going on with the vic on the train? Cause he defs seemed out of it…

Ohhkay, an asthma attack, that makes sense. Reaching for the inhaler. Got it

Okay, y’all I’m sold on the new DA guy who came from scandal.

What is it with cop shows having very racist/sexist people/witnesses and choosing to send in their poc/women to figure details out.

OOHHH WE LOVE A GOOD UC STORYLINE! IS THIS GONNA BE A MULTI EP ARC?! A CROSSOVER?! (I know im clowning over a crossover, you don’t need to tell me)

That was a really good ep tbh.

Okay we all know I’m ignoring TO.

If anyone has any good ideas for a relatively affordable vacation over July/august that wouldn’t be too fucking hot, pls lmk.

Svu time!

Woof talk about a dark open

Also… it’s giving little mermaid…. The whole hazy can’t see her but she’s rescuing him and keeping him safe??

…pants around the ankles? Okay wait so something else happened in there?

WHERE! IS! VELASCO!

FFS

“EVERYONE IS ON MANDATORY OT” REALLY?! I REPEAT WHAT I JUST SAID!!

If they’re gonna be fucking rotating cast members, they should be rotating the ones who aren’t officially part of the squad. Curry was on last week, she should be gone this week.

Oh it was a man in the little mermaid vibes, my bad lol

….at least bruno’s here..

Okay… this girl’s apartment layout is the same as olivia’s (old?) one? (the one where noah was a toddler and up on the counter stealing cookies..) they really all about reusing sets aren’t they? Yet they make olivia’s apt completely different each ep…

Also I lowkey love all the fairy lights and art she’s got up, she’s made this place super cozy and calming and I dig it. Like I legit want that little tree with the fairy lights she has… catch me on amazon later.

Okay but like, if you were beat that bad and fighting for your life, there’s definitely a chance of hallucinating someone..

Bruno can yell at me any day…. Just sayin.

Why cant the girl with agoraphobia just fucking zoom/face time into the trial??? Like, they did that shit for younger witnesses/victims, for people already in prison/stuck in hospitals and that was all BEFORE covid…. I get that this is some kind of progress for her/olivia and more building for liv but it’s stupid…

Shout out to liv for making her office a complete safe space with the blinds drawn and candles and shit. Cute.

Okay that was an okay episode, we’re getting there slowly. I just wish we would go back to court for once. I miss my defence attorneys…

Lowkey hate this flashback, ngl.

Okay…I NEED to know how old joe stabler is supposed to be. Cause the actor’s age isn’t listed on wiki/imdb, but there’s a couple pages/articles that say he’s super late 40’s, early 50’s but he could pass for late 30’s so im SO confused lol.

Ahh… okay. Glad the drugs are his and not eli’s lol

Ugh I love bell so fucking much

I really hope Bobby’s leave was written in cause the actor had another offer that he wanted to take and not one that screwed him over.

Yaaasss cragen with the distraction save!

“I thought it worked…” bruh it sure did lol

God I miss cragen’s sass and quips. Im super glad he’s open to guest star

Bell being a complete bad ass like always. Yaaas queen

Speaking of bad ass women… nicely done chief…

Oh fuck….

Okay, well that was a decent night of l&o tonight!

#spoilers #law and order #law and order svu #law and order special victims unit #law and order organized crime

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iboatedhere · 2 years

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Last WIP Wednesday for this fic hopefully. Rounding third and heading for home.

It takes a few games for Carlos to settle in with the team, but once he does, he’s invited out to post game dinners and parties, both filled with expensive food, alcohol, and women.

At a rooftop bar at the hotel in Boston, after five straight nights of pretending to flirt with women to keep up appearances, he begs off early, telling the guys he had to ice his shoulder.

They give him shit, but say their goodnights without too much hassle and Carlos is grateful.

As soon as he’s back inside and far enough from the noise of the party, he pulls out his phone to call TK.

He’s been in almost constant contact with his parents since getting called up, and he talks to Paul and a few of the other guys at least once a day, but it feels like he’s been playing phone tag with TK.

There have been missed calls on both sides, and text messages answered hours after they’ve been sent. A like and an occasional comment on an Instagram post is as close as they’ve gotten to real contact in over a week.

“Hello?”

Carlos nearly drops the phone when he hears TK’s voice.

“Shit,” he says as he scrambles to keep hold of it. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting you to pick up.”

“Sorry,” TK apologizes as Carlos pushes the button for the elevator.

“No, it’s okay, I’m glad you did. Shouldn’t you be at a game right now? Did I screw the timezones up?”

“We got rained out,” TK tells him. “Isn’t it a little late for you?”

Carlos steps out of the way as a group of party goers spill out of the elevator, already tipsy and laughing.

“Where are you?”

He gets in the elevator car and pushes the button for his floor. “I’m going back to my room. The guys dragged me to a bar.”

TK hums. “That makes sense. We’ve all seen the photos of you getting into that cab with that woman.”

“Oh,” Carlos says, “you mean the ones where I made sure the woman got into a cab safely because she was drunk and then I closed the door and got into my own cab which took me in the opposite direction back to the hotel.”

“That’s not as good of a story.”

Carlos laughs. “I’m glad my parents know the truth. I’d be getting calls from my mother about how she raised me better.”

TK laughs. “How are your parents? I know this isn’t the first time you’ve been called up but I bet they act like it is.”

“They do. My dad is getting everyone he works with to watch and they’re throwing viewing parties at the ranch. They’re coming out to Houston for a few games next week, if I’m still here. They’re treating it like a mini vacation. They don’t get many of those.”

“That’s sweet that they’re still so excited. But what about you?”

“What about me?” Carlos asks as the doors open and he steps into the hallway.

“Are you still excited? Are you doing okay?”

Carlos stops in the middle of the hall. “Yeah. I mean, this is the dream, right?”

“Is it?”

Carlos sighs and keeps walking. “I love it,” Carlos says honestly. “I love playing anywhere but the stadiums are so big and the crowds are so loud and the money,” he admits, “I know that makes me sound like an asshole—-.”

“It doesn’t,” TK assures him. “It’s not wrong to enjoy that.”

“The guys are great, really, they keep trying to hook me up with women but they don’t know any better. They mean well. It makes my parents happy when I’m here and I am happy but….” He trails off as he gets his door open then leans back against it. “I miss you.”

“I miss you, too,” TK says and sighs in relief.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I feel like a dick because part of me knows that you’re doing what you’re supposed to do and I want you to be happy and have all that you deserve, and you deserve so much, but then the other half of me wants you here because I hate staying in this room all alone.”

“Most guys like privacy.”

“Yeah, they keep telling me I can bring a guy back but I can’t tell them that the only guy I want to do that with is halfway across the country.”

“Oh,” Carlos says, “so you miss me-miss me?”

TK snorts. “Yeah, for sure. I’m getting myself off to that night but I know the real thing would be so much better.”

Carlos groans and pushes himself away from the door toward the bed. “You can’t say that.”

“Why not? You’ve got that big hotel room all to yourself, don’t you? I’m all alone somewhere in Oklahoma. Seems like we shouldn’t let this moment go to waste.”

Carlos sits down on the edge of the bed and starts to unbutton his shirt.

“So…” Carlos starts and TK bursts out laughing.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t done this before.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Carlos tells him as he pulls his shirt from his pants and tries to awkwardly take it off with one hand. “It’s been awhile.”

“You definitely knew what you were doing that night.”

“It’s easy with you,” Carlos says. He gets his shirt off then toes off his shoes and stands up. “How undressed are you?”

“That’s a weird way of asking me what I’m wearing.”

“I’m still in my suit and I’m trying to take it off—.”

“Hot,” TK interrupts and Carlos rolls his eyes.

“—but it’s hard to do with one hand.”

“Then put the phone down for a second. Or, better yet…”

The call disconnects only to ring as a FaceTime call a second later.

“Hi,” TK says when Carlos answers. He’s propped up against the headboard, already shirtless. “Let me watch.”

#911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #wip wednesday

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racerchix21 · 2 years

Text

Word Count: 1,116

Warnings: lots of fluff

A/N: I missed Yuta’s birthday by a day (I was super stressed out and busy yesterday, but Happy Belated Birthday Wheeler!!

Tagging: @sunnyfleur23 @paradoxunknown @alanangels (let me know if y’all wanna be taken off of the tag list or if anyone wants to be added!)

Summary: Danny wants to do something nice for Wheeler so he breaks some rules and if Wheeler’s too angry well Danny has a way of fixing that too!

Work Text:

Waiting for Wheeler in his apartment Danny starts getting his surprise ready. He knows that he technically has 2 hours before Yuta is even remotely close to coming back from the gym and his one on one training session with Regal, but Danny’s anxious as hell. “If everything goes well this will be a birthday that his boyfriend will never forget, but with my luck he’ll hate it and he’ll break up with me,” he shakes his head to clear away all the negative thoughts that his brain has conjured up.

Danny knows that he’s a terrible cook and he’s not much better at baking, but for his man’s birthday he’s willing to break Yuta’s one rule about being in the kitchen by himself. The last time he tried this he nearly burnt down Wheeler’s parents kitchen and once Wheeler and his dad got the smoke detectors off, some ground rules were set in place.

Flashback one year and some change:

They were having dinner with Wheeler’s parents and all Danny had wanted to do was help Mrs. Yuta when he agreed to go heat up the apple pie she’d made for dessert. Figuring out how to turn on the beach house's oven was an adventure in its self and after he’d smacked every button on the stove he finally managed to hear the beep indicating the oven was preheating. Pulling the foil off the pie, he plops it down on a baking sheet sitting on the counter and puts it in.

His first mistake was believing he would actually be able to pay attention to the clock. What he definitely wasn’t counting on was getting distracted by the sound of Wheeler’s laughter as he talked to his parents. Danny hadn’t heard his best friend sound this relaxed in forever and he sure hadn’t ever heard him laugh that loudly or easily before and he was gonna enjoy it while he could.

Getting pulled from his thoughts by the smell of smoke and burnt apples and the shrill sound of smoke detectors going off, Danny panics because he’s screwed up Wheeler’s special dinner with his parents. Mrs. Yuta gently guides him aside to turn off the oven as her husband and son begin the long process of getting the smoke detectors off and airing the place out. Danny feels tears welling up his eyes as he begins to mumble apologies to everyone. He’s not expecting for his best friend to wipe the tears away or for him to wrap his arms around Danny and whisper reassurances into his hair.

Ushering Danny out onto the beach, Wheeler grabs his hand and pulls him back into his arms as his shushing begins anew. “Hey, Danny look at me bud. Where’s your head at, hmm? I’m not mad and neither are my parents before you say anything, but I think we need to talk about you being in the kitchen by yourself and set some ground rules so you don’t get hurt,” Wheeler whispers just so it’s the two of them that can hear their conversation.

“Okay, Yoots. I’m focused on you I promise but what kind of rules,” Danny asks in the same low whisper that Yuta was speaking in.

“Rules like you aren’t allowed in the kitchen by yourself especially if you’re using the stove or oven for any reason. I worry about you as your friend and who in the world am I supposed to wrestle if you get hurt?”

Nodding his head Danny agrees and they get back to what they’d come to the beach for in the first place a nice relaxing vacation without the stress of the wrestling world bearing down on them.

End of flashback

Pulling out all the ingredients the back of the box says he needs plus a glass brownie pan, Danny starts mixing up the salted caramel brownies his boyfriend has hinted around about. The relaxing nature of mixing up something for someone you care about gives him a warm fuzzy feeling that he’s only ever experienced when Wheeler has held him after a scene or an intense match at work. Danny’s so lost in his own head he almost misses the sound of the oven beeping to tell him the oven’s preheated and the sound of footsteps as his boyfriend sneaks into the apartment.

Pouring the brownie batter into the pan and pushing it into the oven, Danny startles when he turns around to look at the clock and realizes that Wheeler is standing behind him in the doorway watching his every move.

“Daniel, what do you think you’re doing? Huh I thought I was clear on the rules about you being in the kitchen by yourself using the oven,” Wheeler growls stalking towards Danny and for once he’s smart enough to not attempt to get away from his Dom, but maybe he should have as Wheeler grabs him and gets in his face.

“Yoots, I was baking you brownies since it’s your birthday. I know I’m not supposed to be in here using the oven but I wanted to do something nice for you. I’m sorry,” Garcia says, trying to simultaneously back away from the angry Dom and pull Wheeler into a kiss, because regardless of his fear he knows that his boyfriend would never intentionally hurt him.

“Baby boy I appreciate that you wanted to do something nice for me today but you know the rules.”

“I know, Sir. But before you get too mad and decide to punish me, open this,” Danny exclaims, shoving an envelope at Wheeler.

Taking it and carefully opening it, he finds their passports and tickets to go to Japan to see his family along with a little note from his boy;

Wheeler,

Happy birthday babe!! The fact you’re 26 is wild to me because you and I should still be those idiot kids just starting out in the industry and not having literally anything to our names.

I love you Wheels and I can’t wait to see what this next year will bring you and me ♥️

Love always,

Your bratty baby, Danny

P.S. You’ve got a good butt, like the BEST butt in wrestling. Just don’t tell Mox it might hurt his feelings and Jon Moxley with hurt feelings ain’t fun

Glancing up at Danny standing at the stove taking out his birthday brownies, Wheeler feels a little warm and fuzzy and really blessed that he’s gotten so stupidly lucky to be in love with this beautiful sassy man. “Thank you baby boy and now that the brownies are out of the oven how about you come over here and let the birthday boy have his special kiss.”

#wheeler yuta x daniel garcia #The Pure Brat Chronicles #Wheeler Yuta #Danny Garcia #Birthday fluff

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nehswritesstuffs · 1 year

Note

Getting the hang of things: 12, Clara and the kids try to take a normal human family vacation together and things don’t go as planned.

Happy Twelve Day, everyone! It’s still 12.12 where I am, so meh this is going up.

2190 words; one of my favorite inconsequential personal headcanons for Coal Hill if Clara continues teaching there is that the Eleven expy coworker eventually becomes headmaster, because why the fuck not; makes mention of the very angsty ch.33 (tumblr/FFN/AO3); sorry I’ve had severe OP brain rot the past half year please take this in penance (though I’ve got a lot more for it than DW coming sorry not sorry); friendly reminder to not interact with wildlife unless you are with an expert and the Doctor does not count as an expert; not really thoroughly beta’d, but if I find something egregious I’ll fix it for now I’m just tired

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

All Clara really wanted was to go to the seaside. Just a seaside holiday with her husband and children… was that too much to ask?

The first reason it was deemed unattainable, it was because she had her time off request denied. She went directly to the headmaster’s office, as she was not in the mood to do anything else, and confronted him directly. She had the available time, there was no testing or other things going on then, her husband already had his time approved at his work (though, she did not mention that his time was automatically approved being as one saved the ability to tell a minor cosmic deity “no” for special occasions), so what was the problem…?

“Sorry, Clara,” the headmaster apologized. “I thought you knew.”

“…knew what, Adrian?”

“That’s the week of the Year Sevens’ class trip.”

Everything came rushing back to her in a rush of mortification. Yes, the Thursday and Friday she requested was when the Grade Sevens were going to Loch Lomond for a camping and culture excursion. She even was going to chaperone, since her “step-children” were on the trip this year. How in the bloody hell did she forget…? Wracking her brain quick as she could, she tried to think about when she could have possibly volunteer and then immediately forget the entire thing…?

Oh.

“Did you get me to agree to this… say… late September, early October…?”

“October 3rd, actually. I’ve got the paperwork here.”

“Adrian… you know I’m out of sorts around then,” she groaned.

“I had to get the list of adults ready, you know that,” the headmaster defended gently. He was one of the few who knew of her… particular family situation and all the intergalactic implications involved, and had known from the start. “Any other empty long weekend is yours, no questions.”

“Then I guess I’ll talk with the Doctor when I get home,” she sighed. She rubbed her temples as she felt a headache coming on, her attention stolen when the headmaster placed a couple stacks of papers on his desk. “Adrian Thomas Davies, what the bloody hell is that?”

“Not much,” he shrugged. “Since you mentioned him, we do need to discuss the Doctor…”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The second reason that a regular family holiday was perfectly unattainable was due to the fact that… well… screw it, there was a lot of reasons, and they all kept piling up at a rapid pace.

Missing his tobacco habit for the first time in nearly two millennia, the Doctor stood surrounded by five dozen tweens who were wound up and excited for the fact they were on a trip away from home. He looked over at a pair of fathers who had also come along, envious at their excuse for a smoke break, the act of which brought them more than a few yards away at a designated stand at the edge of the carpark. It wasn’t even something he could magically pick up again for the duration of the trip, because one puff and Clara would be absolutely livid. Instead, he was surrounded by his children’s classmates, nearly all exuding a sort of energy he was not used to encountering, all because Clara accidentally volunteered him.

“Dad?” He glanced over and saw Alison staring up at him. “What's wrong?”

“I don’t know,” he lied. What was wrong was that he was currently risking a lot in order to be there for the trip. He was still taking the time off at the end of the week, but at the same time, he was also currently at the office, helping disassemble some extraplanar tech thanks to the scientific wonder that was the TARDIS. “How’re you holding up, Aly? You and Jim alright?”

“Yeah—he’s over with Auntie Nellie and Mum,” the girl said, pointing vaguely behind him. He turned and saw Clara and an Osgood—the only reason he was able to get away with a normally-contract-breaching use of time travel—as they attempted to corral some of the more energetic students. Although there were still other adults there to help out, there was not much being done to help the general chaos of sixty London-raised children getting ready to spend a week camping in Scotland. James was almost clung to Clara, which made his father chuckle. There was so much happening that it was a bit scary even for him.

“Dr. Oswald-Smith?” The Doctor looked and saw one of the wee terrors staring at him curiously. “When did you move to London from Scotland?”

“I moved to London from Gallifrey about two thousand years ago, in 1963,” he grunted. The tween scowled and looked at Alison.

“Is he going to be like this the whole trip?”

“He gets better,” Alison assured. The student shrugged and went off to another cluster, allowing the girl to glare at her father. “Don’t ruin this for us!”

“Ruin what?”

“Friends!” At that, he knew precisely what it was she meant: they needed to be able to interact with their new peers with little judgement. They had not yet been with these classmates for a year—as “transfer students”, they were on thin ice. That explained her outburst and irritation.

“Don’t worry, kiddo—I’m not looking to ruin anything,” he assured. The Doctor watched as she stormed off and joined her classmates. A pang of guilt struck through him—she was embarrassed by him.

“I see that look on your face.” He glanced over and saw Clara standing there, having abandoned Osgood to be devoured by rabid tweens or whatever was going on over on the other side of the carpark. “Don’t act like you’re surprised or anything.”

“Some normal family holiday this is turning out to be,” he noted. She just shook her head and sighed. “That’s what we wanted, right?” He bent down and they pecked their lips together—can’t show too much affection, after all.

“For the time being, anyhow,” she replied. She handed him a copy of the itinerary; it was decidedly packed with activities for the kids, which meant few breaks for the adults. “Think you can handle our group for the time being?”

“If our group isn’t stolen by the meme master over there,” he said, gesturing over towards Osgood. She and a small child looked like they were having a dance-off, with other adults watching carefully on from a distance. Clara made a note to invite Osgood back if they were running short on chaperones in the future—she was surprisingly good with the kids. “Let’s just get this over with, and then we can go on as normal. It’s only fair.”

“…to whom…?”

“Neither of us, I can tell you that.” Something over on the other side of the carpark caught his eye and he groaned internally. “None of these pudding-brains should know what the mechanics for trimonoclyde fusion is, correct?”

“Considering I have no idea what you just said…?”

“I’ll be right back—watch Osgood’s pockets. I think we’ve got thieves in our midst.” The Doctor went off to where there were some children huddled around a rock in order to confiscate something.

This was going to be a ride, that was for certain.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

As it turned out, camping with so many tweens was not a wise idea, both the Doctor and Clara found out. Their children? They weren’t being the best, but they were manageable. It was many of the rest of the children—not to mention a couple of the adults—that grated on their nerves. Between students attempting to run off into the woods and the adults’ inane banter and members of both groups attempting to wander off at different points to find a town (and therefore, wifi), things were beginning to get complicated.

“Remind me to throw your boss into a supernova when we get back,” the Doctor groused as he sat down next to Clara. The pair of them were taking the early watch in their half of the camp, making sure that no one decided to sneak off. All of the tents opened towards them, which admittedly was a big help, but it was still a two-person job at the very least. With the loch to their backs and the other watch pair further off, it could have nearly been considered private.

“You will not be doing anything to Adrian… and no calling in favors on him,” she warned. She poked the fire in front of them with a stick, agitating the logs so more could catch fire properly. “This part’s nice, at least.”

“I thought you hated bonfires.”

“I do—I’m talking about the quiet.” She leaned back and looked up at the stars, the fact they were even there an incredible thing to see for someone who normally lived in London. Smiling, Clara continued to stare as she leaned against the Doctor’s shoulder.

“What are you looking at?” he asked.

“Stars.”

“You see them all the time when we’re out in the TARDIS.”

“True, but I don’t often get to see them while on Earth,” she reasoned. “Even now, the village is close enough that we don’t really see everything.”

“It’s a shame, because everything looks amazing from here.” She turned her head to see that he was looking directly at her, without any regard for the sky above or the tents they were supposed to be minding. He leaned down and kissed her tenderly before wrapping an arm around her and tucking her head under his chin. “We’ll have to do this on our own when we’re feeling up to camping.”

“A camping permit for just the four of us?”

“I was thinking a little something pre-permits.” Clara could then feel the Doctor tense. “Did you see that?”

“See what?”

“I think I saw something over by the back tents.”

“A wildcat, I bet.”

“Possibly, but let me see.” He grabbed a torch and stood, heading back over towards the rear of the encampment. Shining the torch around, he didn’t catch anything. “Huh. Nothing. I guess it was my imagin—”

At that, a wildcat did indeed jump out from behind a tent and hissed at the Doctor. The Time Lord stared at it, unimpressed.

“I’d change your attitude if I were you,” he said. “No one’s here to steal your kills.”

A yowl and a hiss escaped the cat, the hairs on its back standing on-end.

“They’re a bunch of kids—kittens, if you will—and although yes I admit some of them are losing that thing that makes them cool, most of them are rather brilliant.” The wildcat did not yield. “Aren’t you the pleasant one?”

“Doctor? Should I get Osgood?”

“Naw—it’s just a cat,” he said.

Soon as the words left his lips, the wildcat attacked. The feline jumped at him, meowing loudly. Other cats then started popping out from the wood, all of them attempting to climb at him and bite or swipe at his ankles and knees. He tried to shoo them away to no avail; they kept coming, somehow all swarming him. Students and other chaperones alike began poking their heads out of their tents to see what all the commotion was about.

“Dr. Oswald-Smith, are you alright?” one of the chaperones asked blearily. The wildcat nearest her hissed violently, forcing her to retreat back into the tent.

“It’s always you getting into trouble like this,” Clara groaned. She suddenly appeared at his side with the broom left to them by the parks people, trying to bat the wildcats away without hurting them. A few got the hint, but most kept attacking. The Doctor made a run for the loch, wading into the shallow bit before the cats began to rethink leaving him alone. One, however, lunged up and at him, knocking him fully over into the water. By now their entire side of the camp was awake and staring at the scene, along with some from the other half, with James and Alison looking on in horror.

“This is an absolute disaster,” James squeaked. The cat that knocked over his father jumped back to shore and bounded through camp and into the wood, disappearing as silently as it appeared.

“Disaster doesn’t even cover it,” Alison groaned. She looked at the three girls that she was sharing a tent with and scowled. “Would you believe me if I said this wasn’t the weirdest thing I’ve seen happen to him?”

“I believe it, Ozsmith,” one of them replied. They watched as the Doctor dragged himself out of the loch, absolutely sopping wet. “Maybe that’s the story behind the monster up in Ness?”

“Knowing Dad? Probably had something to do with it.”

If they asked, then yes, of course he had something to do with the sensation up in Loch Ness. To be honest, he’d had Victoria and Jamie take turns recording the whole thing. Yet right now? In front of most of his children’s Human classmates? In the cold? Under the scrutiny of half a dozen torches? He was just lucky that the TARDIS was able to tone down his cursing over such a long distance.

#Whouffaldi #Whouffle #Clara Oswald #Twelfth Doctor #Aly Oswald Smith #Jim Oswald Smith #Petronella Osgood #she's featured anyhow #Adrian Davies #kinda #Doctor Who #fan fiction #replies #Greyface replies #idk if it's one of you or a bunch of you but i also got some persistent anoning that i am respectfully asking to chill lol

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philharmonic1986 · 1 month

Text

April 2.

Hi baby.

Today was not a bad day but definitely could have been better. Woke up and started my day, felt better with the IUD but still have bloating and some discomfort. It does seem to be getting better.

Work was good, for the most part. I finally had enough and spoke to my branch manager about the temp. He flipped on me again, 2 times all because I asked where invoices were. I told her that he seems to not want to learn and always on his phone. I am all about training people who want to learn but I feel that he does not want too. I know that I might come off snippy to him but it is hard to be calm with someone who doesn’t care. He makes very shitty commemts like “whe did you become Stacy”, “I didn’t know you were my gf”, “there might be a screw driver in the bathroom that you can use to fix your attitude”. Like, we are adults and in a professional setting and he does childish things.

I’m trying so hard to be different and approach things differently but people like him, who do things on purpose to get a reaction out of me (he said this), just push me and I can’t handle that. He thinks mental health is a joke and blames everything and everyone else.

Questions.

• What’s your favorite way to spend a day off? I haven’t had an actual day off in years, being that I work during the week - weekends are usually run around and house work. I am trying to work this in during the week but I wouldn’t mind having a few days to take a trip out of town or spend time with friends.

• What type of music are you into? I love just about all music. Music saved me in many ways.

• What was the best vacation you ever took and why? The first vacation I took was to universal a few years back. It was so surreal visiting after 20 years.

• What’s your guilty pleasure? Binge-watching really good tv shows… multiple times.

• What’s your favorite color? Guess. 🙃🤭💜

• Are you an early bird or a night owl? I’m not really sure. I usually hated mornings but my job has caused me to be up really early, the sunrise is amazing! But I also love the nighttime; the stars.

• What is on your bucket list? Traveling, I want to visit so many places. Annnnddd, paying off my debt so I can leave Florida!

• What are you most thankful for? Where I am today. I haven’t had an easy life and my parents practically left me to figure it out on my own but I got where I am because I fought to be here. I might not be rich and have a lavish house but I am happy with my job, place of living, my cat and where I am.

• What is your biggest regret in life? If I have to choose, going back to school. It only put me in debt with a useless piece of paper. I am proud of myself for accomplishing the degree but it was a waste of money and time.

• What are you most afraid of? Hmm, I used to be afraid of being alone but that was a battle within myself and I rather enjoy being alone and on my own. I think I am most afraid of falling inlove and losing that person again. Being that vulnerable just to be dropped like I don’t matter is something I had to accept and get past.

• What do you feel most passionate about? Pets. lol

I just want to be happy and live. I need to find out how to just… blow it off. I asked work bestie how she is so patient but she doesn’t know lol I need to find a way to be more… calm. I hope this doesn’t make me a seem like a bad person because I am really not. 🥺 I just have a shitty past that I am try to change my ways of doing.

I miss you, very much. 😍😘🥰

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piratesfromspace · 3 years

Text

Finance Management (Deckard Shaw/Reader)

Deckard Shaw (Fast & Furious) x Reader

Word count: 1.9k CW: mention of food & alcohol, smut

Female reader

Note: This short fic has been inspired by a friend of mine who created the character of the financial advisor of mister Shaw. Also there is not enough fics with Deckard Shaw so here we are.

Read on Ao3

MASTERLIST

“Mister Shaw, it’s me again, I’m so sorry but I really need you to call me back please. It’s important. Thank you.”

You let out a deep sigh as you hang up. Handling the finances of rich people is a lucrative and thrilling job, but damn it sometimes those clients of yours are annoying. Especially Mister Shaw.

First, he’s annoyingly busy and unreachable. Most powerful people are, but he can disappear for weeks on end without so much as sending an email.

Second, he’s also infuriatingly handsome and smart and funny. And he has an impeccable sense of style. He has nothing in common with the other clients of your firm, mainly old and boring men, whose only conversation subject is their money and how they hate their wives.

And finally, the worst thing about him is how good of a lover he is. You found out half a year ago, when you ended up in his bed after what should have been a regular business dinner. It was a mistake of course. One that could have cost you your career because it was a very serious breach of contract to sleep with a client.

You never told a soul, and you promised yourself to never do it again. But it was still hard to forget the feeling of him pressed against you, of his hands holding your waist, of his mouth between your thighs...

You try to focus again on your task and stretch your legs, kicking out your high heels. Feet bare on the soft carpet, you walk to the floor-to-ceiling window of your posh office, taking a second to admire the view, as the final rays of the sun disappear over the lake, and Geneva lights up under you. It’s breath-taking, really. But it also means you’re once again staying way too late at the office. Your assistant has gone home a couple hours ago, and your colleagues are either on vacation or on business trips, making you the only person on the building’s 7th floor. You still have a few things to finish so you plop on your leather chair and get back to work, hoping to make it home before 11pm.

That’s when you hear it: the familiar *ding* of the elevator’s door, at the end of the corridor. You tense immediately. You’re not waiting for anyone, and the security guards always use the stairs when completing their patrol.

Steps are coming down your way, and you grab your phone, ready to dial for the security team. And then you recognize his silhouette through the polished glass wall. There is a knock on your door before it opens to reveal Deckard Shaw himself. He’s wearing an expensive suit and an even more expensive watch, a very light stubble is highlighting his perfect jawbone and his deep grey eyes bear a mischievous glint. Handsome, as always.

“Mister Shaw…” you stammer.

“You know you can call me Deckard.” His stupidly sexy British accent and cocky smile will be the death of you.

He’s been in your office for two seconds and you already want to slap him in the face - or climb him like a tree, you can’t really decide.

“It’s quite late, Mister Shaw, you scared me. Anything I can do for you?” you insist on saying his family name, in a feeble attempt to maintain a professional façade.

“You needed to see me.” it’s more a comment than a question, and you’re suddenly reminded of the dozen of unanswered phone calls you made trying to reach him.

“Yes… yes, that’s right, but honestly you could have called tomorrow morning.”

“I’d rather see you in person.” he answers, looking you straight in the eyes. You can feel yourself blushing under his gaze. “Wanted to make sure you’re alright. You’re working too much you know.” he says with a soft smile, as his eyes drift down to your sore bare feet and then to the discarded heels under your desk.

What a condescending prick, you think. But at the same time, he’s right and his care seems somewhat genuine. It will not make you forget you almost lost your job because of him though.

“How did you know I was still here tonight?” you purposely redirect the attention on him, rather than you.

“Well, let’s say I would not leave the woman in charge of my assets without any... supervision.”

“Is that a polite way to say you’ve been spying on me?” you retort dryly.

“Oh I love when you’re getting all angry and snobbish, your French accent is even cuter.”

You’re gonna murder him. You really really want to tell him to go fuck himself, but he’s the one responsible for a very generous part of your paycheck, so you have to keep quiet.

“I would be more comfortable if we keep our conversation strictly professional, Mister Shaw.”

“Everything you want, dear.”

-----

“Mmph, fu-ck... Deckard, don’t stop”

The professional attitude has been long forgotten, since Deckard has pulled you onto his lap on the velvet couch of his presidential suite at the Four Seasons hotel, where you were supposed to only review the important documents he needed to see. But when the room service had brought a very nice bottle of Scotch, you knew you were screwed. You could not refuse a drink, and the warmth of alcohol combined with the warmth of his hand slightly brushing against your thigh had overcome all your resolve.

You are now sprawled on the king-size bed, moaning his name as Deckard Shaw is destroying your sanity very methodically. One foot on the floor, one leg bent on the edge of the bed, he’s pounding into you, holding your hip with one hand, and circling your clit with the other. His pace is calculated, not too fast so you can feel every inch of him, but not too slow so your nerves don’t have any respite, and it’s driving you crazy. Hands tangled in the dark silk sheets beneath you, you try to catch your breath to no avail.

“I won’t stop darling. Not until I can feel you coming again all over me.” His voice is like heavy honey, dripping all over your senses, drowning you in sweet and sinful promises.

You want to close your eyes to focus on the overwhelming feelings, but the view in front of you is too good to be missed. He looks like some demi-god, bathed in the subdued light of the room, broad and muscular chest, abs perfectly drawn. What is his job again? You vaguely remember him talking about serving a few years in the military when he was younger, but he is still definitely hitting the gym on a regular basis.

His muscles flex when he brings you down on his thick cock a little more sharply than before, and you keen as he hits that perfect spot inside of you. You can feel your orgasm build again, and so can he.

“You’re close, princess, aren’t you?”

You mewl in response and he chuckles darkly, keeping up with his ruthless assault on your most sensitive parts. He angles his fingers just a bit differently on your clit, and keeps thrusting into you, stretching you so perfectly you can’t remember the last time someone fucked you this good - wait , actually you can, it was a few months ago and it was by mister Deckard “annoyingly perfect” Shaw.

“Come on, I know you want to, I’ll keep going until you give me one more anyway princess…”

And that's it. You’re gone. Back arching off the bed, you come hard, harder than the first time, clenching around him. You barely hear him hiss in pleasure as you spasm helplessly on the soft sheets, the silk feeling almost cool against your burning skin.

----

“Good morning darling."

You open an eye, natural light is flooding the room, as is the delicious smell of fresh coffee and tea. At the foot of the bed, you spot a room service trolley loaded with breakfast treats and through the open door of the bathroom, you can see Deckard is looking at you in the mirror reflection while buttoning a crisp white shirt.

"Your tea is ready. Black, no milk, right?”

He's right and it's annoying because is there anything this man messes up?

"What time is it?" You ask, suddenly remembering you have a busy schedule today.

"You have 27 minutes to eat and get ready, so I can drop you off at your office in time for your first call of the day."

He knows about your tea preferences and your professional agenda, of course he does , he was not joking when mentioning the whole "spying-on-you" situation, or "supervision" as he liked to call it. He needs to stop it, but you decide to keep this discussion for another day.

You stretch, and rise to put on the hotel bathrobe, sighing at the thought of having to wear the same clothes as yesterday. Last you saw them, they were scattered on the floor all over the room and your underwear were positively ruined.

"The concierge was very helpful this morning, thanks to him I got you a few clothes delivered for today." Deckard adds as he pours himself a cup of coffee from the cart and gestures to the leather armchair where a couple of bags doning logos of luxury brands are perched.

You make your way to the packages, and open the first one to reveal a sophisticated dress, fitted and sexy, but not too much that it would be inappropriate as office wear. The second bag is a thoughtful selection of high end make-up products. And the last one contains a gorgeous set of lacy lingerie, nothing too raunchy but sexy nonetheless. Of course everything is in the right size.

"Thank you..." you whisper, a little stunned. The assortment must have cost him a couple grands at the very least - not that he can't afford it because you're well placed to be sure he can, but still, he did not have to do this.

You have to suppress a smile, because damn he's being annoyingly perfect once more, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction to reveal he was right when promising you could stay the night instead of going home and still look fresh for your day at work.

"I was thinking, I'm free tonight, so maybe we can finally review those documents, you know the ones you were supposed to show me before you jumped on me on the couch last night?" Deckard states as he bites in an apple in front of the window, casually looking at lake Geneva glinting in the bright morning sun.

You blush unwillingly, struggling to find a reply that would save you from admitting you had failed at enforcing your usual work ethic.

"I'm kidding dear!" He barks in a laugh. "I know enough to trust you on this venture, you have my approval to go on with the investment." He continues more seriously.

You open your mouth to answer but he's quicker.

"I'm not kidding about being free though, so what about dinner and then we can see where this takes us…"

When you don't answer immediately, he turns to look at you. Maybe he's realizing the situation can be awkward and precarious for you since you're technically working for him.

"You can say no, I won't take any offense." He adds without irony.

"Yes..." You finally answer, tip toeing toward him until you can snatch the apple he was eating from him. He protests but you shush him.

"...Yes, I would like this very much..."

As he starts to protest again, you take a big bite from the fruit with a knowing smile.

"...but only for dinner. Nothing more."

"You'll be the death of me." Deckard says, falsely irritated, his voice dropping lower.

"At least the feeling is mutual, mister Shaw ..."

#deckard shaw #deckard shaw x reader #female reader #fast and furious #hobbs and shaw #deckard shaw fanfiction #hobbs and shaw fanfiction #deckard shaw / reader #jason statham #jason statham imagine #smut #hobbs and shaw smut #deckard shaw reader insert #fast and furious fanfiction

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axcible · 2 years

Text

❝𝐀-𝐙 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬❞

𝔻𝕖𝕟𝕜𝕚 𝕂𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕚

Ability➵ He is useful, he can charge your phone!

Bed and Breakfast➵ Cereal, dude can’t cook anything-has to be very simple.

Cuddles➵ The best in the world, believe it or not his electrical charge can somehow warm you up. Downside, makes your hair go up.

Dom➵ Eh, can be, most likely not-he always ends up submitting to you.

Experience➵ I would say he is a professional, knows how to calm you down, those cuddles are what keep you waking up every morning catering to your lazy little dummy.

Flexibility➵ He loves new things, if they don’t work out and it gets awkward, he knows exactly what to do. Go back and try again.

Goodies➵ Yes, he loves eating while cuddling. It’s like two amazing things in one.

Heat➵ Whisper in his ears in a way that is just captivating, play with him, tease him. “Mmmm, baby, y’know I love it when you shock right there~” He goes feral.

Introvert➵ He loves whispering gossip to you, talking about his day and asking you about yours.

Jittery Bugs➵ He gets flustered but he is confident, he takes pride in cuddling, favorite part of the day.

Kinks➵ Say your cold, and that your feeling a bit lonely. He comes running, your little cuddle bug~

Lights➵ Lights on or of this guys just wants to snuggle up with you.

Minor➵ He calls you various pet names, but your main one is cuddle bug or baby boy.

Nsfw➵ He gets horny a lot when you two are on vacation, the way you dress has him drooling. When he gets jealous he knows what’s happening tonight.

Observations➵ Sometimes he sees that you don’t get enough sleep so he makes simple but heartfelt breakfasts for you. Your sweet cuddle bug.

Period➵ Snack master, need something he’s on it, he can and will never track your period, he doesn’t have enough brain cells. But he is there at your every command.

Questions➵ His he a good parent? Yes he is, your probably thinking if he has matured over time, and yes he has. He aims to be the fun parent-the yes parent.

Rapid➵ You two cuddle as much as you can, after work, secret breaks. Anytime, anywhere.

Sensitive➵ He is very sensitive about his length, remind him how great he makes you feel, remind him he is the only one that can make you moan the way he likes it.

Time➵ Like I said cuddles all you can, as much as you can spare, till your at the risk of starving each other.

Utility➵ Warm cozy stuff, if ain’t got none of that no matter, just being with you is enough for him.

Vent➵ He likes to vent while cuddling a lot, it’s like her personal therapy sessions. Their free too

Where➵ Anywhere, couch, bed, chairs, anywhere. He prefers somewhere soft, but if he can’t get that-so be it.

X-ray➵ He loves every part of you, chubby, skinny, whatever. This guy loves you till death.

Yearning➵ All of his thoughts: “I miss her *checks out the window*, is she back yet? A teddy bear can’t cuddle the way she does. Where is my other half? My soul, the whipped cream to my pancakes!”

Zebra➵ A kid, he can only handle one and you know that. Girl or boy, doesn’t matter. Only once, if yall get twins-so be it, have fun handling those troublemakers.

𝔼𝕚𝕛𝕚𝕣𝕠 𝕂𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕒

Ability➵ Big strong helper, your big man!

Bed and Breakfast➵ BACON AND EGGS!!!!! This dude can cook, if ya let him.

Cuddles➵ Not 1000/10 but it’s 10.5/10! Still pretty good, he is your one and only man.

Dom➵ Yes, unless you want to be, this guy listens to your every word.

Experience➵ This guy has experience! He is a gentlemen, he knows exactly what to do!

Flexibility➵ He is always up for new things, food, cuddle positions, sex positions, and even more!

Goodies➵ Mhm, he will snack with you. Feed you-anything!

Heat➵ Yes, it is possible. Rub against him too much while cuddling-you screwed yourself! GREAT JOB!

Introvert➵ Will talk during cuddles if you want. What does he talk about? His day, how great you are, and what he wants to do in life.

Jittery Bugs➵ He is never nervous, he knows how you like it-and is ready for a pop quiz!

Kinks➵ Say you need some affection, some attention.

Lights➵ On-secret’s out, he may or may not be scared of the dark.

Minor➵ Sometimes you use his hardened hands to chop things-I know weird, but it works!!

Nsfw➵ When he hardens inside you, it’s like pleasure plus pain multiplied by moans. It truly is a sight for sore eyes.

Observations➵ Your sore? Chores are his! Need a massage? He is right there, knows all the good spots! Horny? He’s got you honey!!

Period➵ Ever felt like you needed someone by your side the whole way? Here he is! Best guy to talk to, gets you a heating pad-snacks at your fingertips!!!!

Questions➵ Is he perfect? Do I even need to answer?! This guy-great in bed, knows when to cheer you up, or when you need to sit down. A gentle man and a rough man, if you get what I mean.

Rapid➵ Whenever you want sweetie. He’ll make time! Cuddle sessions at your fingertips, never ever skipped a day without it!

Sensitive➵ He gets all sensitive when you compliment his work too much-this guy is a gentleman-a people pleaser. He doesn’t like getting too acknowledged, but just enough to remind him he isn’t just a servant!

Time➵ As long as you want!

Utility➵ Nothing special, just super soft pillows and heavy weighted blankets!!

Vent➵ He doesn’t really have a lot to vent about, he likes what he does. But some things just piss.him.off! I don’t know what but, it has to be bad to piss this guy off!

Where➵ Anywhere, isn’t ashamed in public. Actually he tries to get you out more, everyone keeps mistaking him as a single pringle. He is clearly taken look at his ring!

X-ray➵ Loves every part of you, his favorite? The crook of your neck. Believe it or not the crook of your neck is the warmest place for him. For a bonus, close to your ears so he can whisper about how great it is!

Yearning➵ Mhm, he misses you. “Where is she? I wonder how long she will take? Maybe I could fix dinner for when she comes back! What should I do for her?”

Zebra➵ I can see you with a whole litter, at least 3 kids max! Best case senario, twins and one on the way!!

#bnha #my hero academia #mha smut #mha fluff #bnha smut #bnha fluff #Denki Kaminari #Eijio Kirishima #a-z headcanons #mha headcanons

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years

Text

Dream SMP Recap (June 1/2021) - All Roads Lead to Rome

Ponk tears down one of the towers of L’Llamaburg for overshadowing his supreme fridge.

Tubbo creates a new outpost just outside Las Nevadas to overlook the country.

Techno has a birthday party with the Syndicate and Quackity comes over to bring a message.

Quackity speaks with Foolish in Las Nevadas about his future plans for the country and roads.

Niki finds out about Wilbur’s revival.

Bad asks for Techno’s help with destroying his enemies, as he’s upset about L’Llamaburg violating the buffer zone agreement. Puffy confronts Bad about the brewing war.

---

VOD LINKS:

Ponk

Foolish

Tubbo

Technoblade

Nihachu

BadBoyHalo

Captain Puffy

---

- Ponk tears down one of the towers of L’Llamaburg

- Ponk sends Foolish through the labyrinth he built

- Afterwards, they visit the turtle sanctuary

- Ponk shows Foolish that he tore down the tower for overshadowing his supreme fridge. Foolish points out that he and Puffy don’t have the best history. Ponk is still bitter over Puffy destroying Sacrifice’s shrine

- Tubbo creates an outpost on a mountain just outside of Las Nevadas to keep an eye on the country

- Quackity comes over and asks what Tubbo is doing. He says he’ll speak with Tubbo later

- If anyone asks, Tubbo will say it’s just a cookie outpost from Snowchester

- Foolish comes over as well and tells Tubbo that he sent Punz on the mission to find the nuke

- Tubbo asks why Foolish has left Snowchester. Foolish says he’s trying something new -- he’s joining Las Nevadas, actually

- Foolish takes Tubbo on a tour through Las Nevadas. He asks if Tubbo would want to join Las Nevadas, but Tubbo declines

- Techno starts off in his house. He walks outside to find Niki, Phil and Ranboo launching fireworks for his birthday! They also set up a table outside the house with some cake

- After they eat some cake, Techno asks what he’s missed. He’s gone off into the wild to train, while Phil thought he was hibernating. Techno asks if they found out Tommy actually died. Phil tells him he did, but Dream brought him back

- Speaking of things brought back...Wilbur is back too. Niki and Techno are both shocked. Phil tells them that he’s actually living in Phil’s house currently. He tells Niki Wilbur’s changed for the better

- Techno brings Steve out

- He notices the new forest, which the others say sprouted up. It just appeared

- The subject returns to the revival book. Niki says, if Wilbur and Tommy have been brought back, there’s one person left that can be brought back that they don’t want back: Schlatt

- Niki asks if there are any new governments. Phil says no, Snowchester is still there but nothing much has happened that they need to step in on

- They solved the government issue with brute force. Techno says it was “mild property damage,” but Phil disagrees, saying it was mass destruction. They agree to just blame everything on Dream

- While he was away, Techno studied the blade. He suggests a training session for Niki and Ranboo

- Techno has something to do. He leaves, noticing Quackity standing on a hill nearby

- Quackity says hello. Techno tells him it’s his birthday (he’s not sure how old he is, though) and Quackity thanks him for helping with the Egg. He asks if Techno has visited Dream (Techno hasn’t)

- Techno went to the Dream SMP equivalent of Italy on vacation

- Quackity tells Techno he’s been visiting Dream, and that while in prison Dream seems to be a completely different person. Techno asks if Dream’s been treated well, and Quackity says he’s fine

- Just a few days ago, Dream told Quackity that he wanted Techno to visit, that he finally wanted to call in a “favor”

- Techno explains that the “favor” is that he has to get Dream his favorite meal at some point, since they were at a restaurant once and Techno forgot his wallet

Quackity: “He’s changed a lot. If you walk in there, he doesn’t seem like the person he’s always been, which is weird, how a person can change just like that.”

Techno: “It’s strange what five months of near total isolation can do to a person...as we know, it’s always a positive effect.”

- Sometime during this weekend, Techno will visit. Techno asks if Quackity has any written message from Dream, and Quackity says he can probably get one. He only has notes right now

- Techno asks if Quackity is telling the truth. He would hate to be lied to on his birthday...Quackity says he’s not lying, and as he said, he’s glad they set aside their differences

Quackity: “At the end of the day, scars fade away, Techno...”

- Quackity says goodbye and leaves. Techno wonders if he can trust him

- He returns to the others and they celebrate some more

- Phil takes them all down to show off the training arena he made in the basement

- They go back up and talk some more

- Meanwhile, Quackity meets Foolish at Las Nevadas. He asks about Tubbo’s outpost, and Foolish says it’s a cookie outpost. Quackity tells Foolish not to trust it, realizing he actually hasn’t talked to Tubbo recently

- Quackity is bothered by how clear the view of Las Nevadas is from the outpost and questions why Foolish didn’t stop Tubbo from building it

- He asks the last thing Foolish did in Las Nevadas as they walk over there, and then whether or not he’s already discussed the possibility of a “contract” of formal citizenship

- Quackity wants to get to know Foolish better. He makes sure that he can trust Foolish, confide in him certain information

- Foolish remarks that Quackity seems like the kind of guy who would make a lot of enemies, and gives him a set of Netherite armor

- Speaking of making enemies, Quackity takes Foolish over to the lake to look out at Wilbur and Tommy’s headquarters. Someone paid them a visit

Quackity: “Have you ever met...Wilbur?”

- Foolish hasn’t. Tommy told him a bit. Quackity points out an empty spot in Las Nevadas where he wants something done. He tells Foolish he just paid a visit to an old friend and he went unprotected, so the Netherite is a good idea

- Only two people have just given Quackity armor, and one of them is Quackity’s “right hand man” at the moment: Sam. Foolish mentions Sam screwed him over with L’Sandburg

- Quackity points out Eret’s cobblestone ocean pyramid. This country needs more citizens, more things built

- He shows Foolish the gambling machine and gives him diamonds to try out. Foolish wins Linda!

- Their objective with Las Nevadas is to build the biggest, most powerful country, and Quackity’s read his fair share of Sun Tzu. He’s actually helped run a country before, which Foolish is surprised to learn (countries are before Foolish’s time)

- Quackity says he’ll talk to Foolish soon and leaves for a couple minutes before returning. He asks for PVP lessons, but Foolish hasn’t done much fighting for a while

Quackity: “I do all my fighting through dialogue, if you haven’t noticed...That’s my biggest weapon, Foolish, it’s the way I say things, everything, all that. But I think, you know, given what could come of all this...”

Foolish: “I was gonna say, I don’t know if that will work forever...unless you’re very, very good with your words, eventually you’ll say the wrong words.”

- Quackity suggests they make their own lookout outpost

- Quackity has some plans to show Foolish, a project he thought of when he was thinking about making Las Nevadas. His first plan was to build a highway system

Quackity: “They say all roads lead to Rome...in this case, all roads lead to Las Nevadas.”

- He shows Foolish some sign ideas and Foolish says it would be no problem to build up some roads

- Quackity shows Foolish an old idea for a path with rail lines on both sides, layouts for advertisements

- The first place Quackity thinks the road should go is the Spawn area, for when someone joins or dies. Quackity is annoyed that Tubbo blocked the route, but they can go around it

- They plan out the path of the road. Foolish asks if Quackity wants the road to go to Kinoko Kingdom. Quackity goes silent before saying he wants to focus on the main attractions right now

- Quackity leaves again to go check some things

Foolish: “When you choose a side, there’s always other sides...which means I can’t be buddy-buddy with everyone forever.”

- Foolish does the boat slime jump. Quackity comes back with food and continues to discuss plans. Besides connecting everyone, they also need to make cash off of this highway, so he wants to make sure there’s plenty of advertisement

- L’manburg is destroyed, but it also has a lot of history. Quackity’s noticed no one’s really claimed that area. Wilbur and Tommy are neighboring them now. Foolish asks if they’re enemies...Quackity says he’ll explain that in a bit

Quackity: “We can make L’manburg a main tourist area.”

- Foolish knows a few people might be against that. Anyone from L’manburg, maybe. Quackity reminds him he was in the cabinet, and proceeds to tell him the story of Wilbur:

---

When Quackity joined the server, L’manburg was the biggest nation. Quackity asked to join, and he was declined because he wasn’t British -- the one requirement. He didn’t like this, he felt left out, he wanted to be a part of something.The election rolled around, it was SWAG vs. POG.

(They walk over to the ruins of L’manburg)

Wilbur was going to run a “democratic” election with only one option available to vote for, which Quackity didn’t think was very democratic.

(Quackity gets interrupted by George calling him)

Each party had a Vice President. Foolish assumes that Wilbur’s was Tommy...and Quackity’s was George. Quackity points out King’s Court to Foolish in the sky, the place they had their debate. After their debate, Quackity and Wilbur had a talk, a conversation that stuck with him for a very long time.

Then it was Election Day. What happened was, each party had sponsors. Who endorsed Tommy and Wilbur?

Vikkstar.

Tommy accidentally posted the Vikkstar endorsement video in the Discord before deleting it seven seconds later, but that was still enough time for George to get the link and send it to Quackity, and Quackity needed the one person who could match that endorsement: KSI.

Unfortunately, KSI never replied, as it was quite last-minute.

That’s when the turning point happened, and Quackity calls it the worst day of his life. George slept through the event. Quackity had no endorsements, no Vice President. The other party was going strong -- but they made a mistake. Their second endorsement was Schlatt. However, Schlatt arrived drunk, and instead of endorsing Wilbur and Tommy, he made his own party on the spot. SCHLATT2020. Not only this, but Niki and Fundy also made their own party too: COCONUT2020.

The votes go out. POG2020 wins. But, Quackity had an idea, to pool votes with Schlatt. They ended up with 1% more votes than POG, and that’s how Quackity ended up as Vice President of the country. However, this was a big mistake. The policies Schlatt enacted were to exile Tommy and Wilbur, took down the walls, changed up things -- and to be fair, Quackity did join him on this. He was down with taking down the walls. Everything started going downhill. Schlatt would constantly undermine Quackity’s Vice Presidency, his policy ideas, and he did the worst thing to Quackity -- took down the White House that Quackity, Wilbur and Tommy built together.

Schlatt didn’t care. He started teaming up with bad folks like Dream, other people, and the rest is history. Imagine everything that had to happen to lead to this...

(he gestures to L’manhole)

Foolish: “Do you regret it all?”

Quackity: “...No.”

Foolish: “So, you would’ve let it all go the exact same way, down to Wilbur blowing it all up?”

Quackity: “I wouldn’t have changed a damn thing, Foolish...And let me tell you why...All these mistakes, all these things, have made me the person I am now, Foolish. All these experiences, all these bad moments in my life, have made me the man I am today.”

“And you never...you never mess with history. Because everything happens for a reason, Foolish. Everything happens for a reason. You don’t ever pander with history, you don’t ever try to turn it around or change it, because the way things happen are the way things happen at the end of the day. And that’s how we build character. I wouldn’t have Las Nevadas if not for all these...for all these...mistakes, maybe.”

After that, something happened with Wilbur. Quackity didn’t know much about it, but he changed. He was so obsessed with his country that if he couldn’t have it, no one could. He blew up the entire thing, and in that process he ended up dying, and that’s when Ghostbur came to be.

So many more things happened (Foolish finds out that this crater isn’t just from Wilbur), but...it is what it is.

“And if you dwell in the past, you’ll live in suffering your entire life. So take it from me, Foolish. Take in all the experiences you’ve ever had, and apply them to something greater than what you used to be. Take one last gander at...the country that never was.”

---

- Quackity shows Foolish his old house under Karl’s. He’s not seen Karl in a while. He sees that it’s been blown up, and there’s an old message to him from Sam. He’s not sure what happened.

- Quackity shows Foolish the message. Just as he’d said, Sam had given him Netherite armor once. Sam has a good heart. It’s in the right place, he just needs some guidance.

- He leads Foolish down the Prime Path, showing him the other buildings. He takes Foolish over to the museum.

- They look at the maps and discuss routes again. Foolish asks about a road to the prison, and Quackity says improving his “commutes” would be nice

- Quackity is glad Foolish is taking the chance on Las Nevadas. Quackity has to leave to address some business, but he’ll get on to help Foolish build the roads later.

- Foolish goes back to Las Nevadas, looking out over at Wilbur and Tommy’s headquarters.

Foolish: “It’s kinda been a while since I’ve really had enemies enemies...but I have the feeling that is gonna change soon enough...Maybe not even enemies, but certainly not friends. Kind of a shame, though, I’ve yet to really meet Wilbur...”

- He gets out his shulker box from an Ender Chest and looks inside. There is a stack of TNT.

“It’s been a while...”

- Niki is at the Arctic. Wilbur is back. She thought she got rid of him and doesn’t know why he’s back now, in the only place she feels safe

Niki: “Who are you going to manipulate next, huh? Because it’s not gonna be me this time! It’s not gonna be me this time.”

- Tommy? Tubbo? Jack? Jack wouldn’t fall for it. Niki is upset that Wilbur didn’t check up on her. Why would he change? He never changes or cares

- Why would Dream revive him? Dream was his enemy, but at the end he was pretty fond of him

- Niki heads back through the Nether to her secret city. Now the world revolves around Wilbur again

- She still hasn’t finished her city and hasn’t been able to sleep. She goes to a chest to find the diamonds Wilbur once gave her

- Niki saw the TNT when she broke the wall, but she didn’t tell anyone, covered it back up. But Wilbur still blew it up anyway

- Niki puts the diamonds in a chest buried deep in the wall and covers it back up

- She goes back to the main area, to L’manburg. When she was in Manberg, Wilbur promised that he would get her out of there, and she waited weeks. And then Wilbur wasn’t the same person anymore

- Niki thought maybe while Wilbur was still alive, he could still be rescued, could still be happy

Niki: “But you will never be happy, because all you want is what you can’t have. And when you have everything...what will you fight for?”

- Niki wants to see him, ask why he never came back to her. She walks back to the Nether portal and the stream ends

- Bad shows up to L’Sandburg and notices L’Llamaburg next door. He’s upset about the new castle and wonders why Foolish would allow this, as it violates the agreement

- He reads the purpose of L’Llamaburg and is enraged. There’s only one option, and that’s war. He sets fire to the walls of L’Llamaburg, builds an extension on top of his tower to make it taller than Puffy’s build, and builds a giant sign saying “LIAR”

- After visiting the main area to get some resources, he meets Antfrost on the Prime Path, who has a new skin for pride month!

- Bad goes to the Arctic to bake a cake for Technoblade’s birthday. After finishing it, he leaves a letter requesting Techno’s assistance:

---

Dear Technoblade,

Greetings on this fine evening. I hope this letter finds you well and I hope your polar bears are doing excellent. It is with my sincerest apoligies that I disturb your peace but I must inquire about possibly obtaining your services.

Important matters aside I have built a delicious giant cake for you in honor of your birthday. I hope this cake finds you well and may you have many excellent birthdays to follow. If you would be interested in possibly destroying my enemies for me and salting the earth they call home so that they never find happiness again that would be most kind. If you would like to discuss this matter further you know where to find me.

Kindest Regards BBH

---

- Later, Captain Puffy hears of this brewing war and comes online. She confronts Bad about the missing tower from her castle. Bad insists it wasn’t him, it was Ponk

- Puffy reminds Bad of Puffy and Ponk’s conflict from a while ago in which they destroyed each others builds, and says it’s only fair that, if Ponk really did destroy the tower, then she should destroy Ponk’s fridge

- Bad tries to reason with Puffy to not retaliate, while Puffy thinks tearing down the fridge would be doing the place a favor

- Bad brings up the buffer zone violation and they start arguing with each other over Foolish’s land, the turtles, Puffy blames Bad for killing her son, one thing leads to another and soon enough Puffy tells Bad that his L’Sandburg llama citizens are all into BDSM

- They go to the turtle enclosure and see Ponk’s ransom note. Bad says Ponk has to die. Puffy points out they could start with the fridge, and Bad says they should take his other arm. Ponk stole Shelly, they have to kill him

- Puffy gets angry at Bad not wanting to take down the fridge and brings up the death of her son again, how she thought Bad was going to turn over a new leaf at the Banquet and then that leaf ended up covered in blood instead

Puffy: “I should have taken your goddamn arm, Bad!”

- After talking more, the two finally work together to take down the supreme fridge

- Once finished, the two write a return note to Ponk. Bad wants to discuss things with Ponk, and there’s a place in Las Nevadas that he thinks would be good to meet

The note reads:

---

Dear Ponk,

It has come to our attention that you’ve been responsible for some heinous crimes!

Not only did you completely demolish Puffy’s original mushroom house which she let slide. You now have destroyed a tower of her sand castle. BUT IT DOESN’T STOP THERE!

WHERE IS SHELLY PONK!? You’ve not only commited crimes against Puffy but Bad as well! You’ve kidnapped Bad & Sheldon’s dearest Shelly for ransom!

So me and Bad decided to return the favor and give you a taste of your own disgusting medicine!

YOU’RE FRIDGE NO LONGER SUPREME! YOU’VE MESSED WITH THE WRONG MUFFINS AND TAKEN OUR KINDNESS FOR WEAKNESS TOO MANY TIMES!

We all need to talk immediately before this escalates more then it already has.

Leave a book back giving us a time and a place and we will try to attend.

You’ve been warned!

With love, BBH & PuffDaddy

---

- Bad still wants Puffy to move L’Llamaburg, but Puffy wants to stay and protect her son. Bad suggests an alliance: what if L’Sandburg and L’Llamaburg simply combine their territories? It would be beneficial for both nations

- Puffy is skeptical about Bad’s idea and decides that relocating is probably the smartest idea, as Ponk will probably retaliate against her

---

Upcoming Events:

- The final Egg lore stream

- Technoblade’s visit (this weekend)

- Puffy’s lore

- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”

- Ponk’s lore stream

- Dream’s lore video

- Sapnap’s possible lore stream

- Awesamdude lore stream

#what a day huh #dream smp recaps #dream smp #long posts #hhhahfdsjajhdfja #sorry if I missed any details with this one it was A Lot

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weelittleweasley · 3 years

Text

Rosy Cheeks | Fred x Reader

Prompt as anon requested: Fred has always been very forward with his feelings, especially when it comes girls. You on the other hand were always taken aback by how forward he was.

Warnings: fluffy, blushy, cute, warm, and fuzzy :)

Word Count: 2.4k

Small chatter in the library filled Fred’s ears as he sat at a small table pushed against the wall. He leaned back, twirling his quill in his fingers, not paying a lick of attention to the study group at the table. He tuned out Alicia’s voice going on about Flitwick’s class, arguing with Angelina about an answer to the study guide they made together for their upcoming exam. This was all nonsense to Fred in comparison to what he was staring at; rather who he was staring at.

Fred maintained a soft gaze on you from across the library. He watched as you sat alone at a small table, hair pulled up sloppily into a pony tail, the loose strands falling around your face, framing it. You propped your head up with your hand as you read through a book, flipping its pages, struggling to find the information you needed for the same exam he was preparing for. Fred’s heart fluttered in his ribcage as he watched you bite your lip, squinting your eyes as you read the words on the page. How was it possible for someone to be this adorable without even trying?

George leaned back in his chair, laughing at Alicia and Angelina fighting over the right answer. He turned to his right to see his twin, staring off into the distance. He followed his brother’s line of sight and saw exactly who he was gawking at. He let out a light chuckle, “Fred, mate, stop gawking at her and go talk to her.”

Fred snapped out of his daydream and turned to his brother. “I don’t want to disturb her, she looks so peaceful,” he retorts with a small smile on his lips as he returned his gaze to you from across the library. Alicia rolled her eyes at Fred, knowing well enough that Fred wouldn’t care disturbing a girl from her work if it meant he could talk to her. “I’m serious. Anyway, what were you two going on about?”

“Ah, ah, don’t be so quick to change the subject, Weasley,” Angelina shakes her head. “I didn’t know you had a thing for (Y/L/N), when did this start?” she asks, leaning forward, more intrigued in Fred’s little crush than the work in front of them.

George laughs, “It wasn’t obvious before? Fred drools at the mouth when he sees her.” His comment makes Angelina and Alicia both laugh as Fred punches George in the arm as a warning. “Godric, calm down, I’m just teasing you, mate.”

You were in the same year as Fred and George, but you had never really been friends with them. Just acquaintances. Fred didn’t start having a crush on you until your fifth year at Hogwarts. You had all come back from summer vacation, and all of a sudden it seemed like you had grown up before everyone’s eyes. You cut your hair, you didn’t have braces anymore, you started wearing light make up to highlight your facial features, and not to mention you suddenly became more aware of your feminine figure. The male gaze was much more present on you and you could feel it. It’s not that you didn’t like the attention, you just weren’t used to it. You were used to blending in the background, minding your own business and keeping a tight circle of close friends. So when random boys came up to you, like Fred, you were always caught off guard by their flirtations. It’s not that you didn’t find Fred cute, because you indeed find him to be incredibly handsome, you were just not used to how forward he was with his emotions.

Fred leans forward and puts his head in his hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but it seems like every time I try to talk to her or flirt with her, I just end up screwing things. I compliment her, I try to talk to her as much as I can, I offer to walk her to class, but when I do those things it seems like she just freezes up.”

Closing her book and surrendering to the conversation, Alicia speaks, “For starters, Fred, you aren’t very subtle when it comes to fancying girls.” Fred furrows his brows. “You are always very forward with them and make it known that you like them and some girls prefer a little game. Some back and forth, make the bloke sweat a bit. You on the other hand are...intense for lack of better words.”

Her comment makes the table burst out in laughter as Fred tries to defend himself. “Intense?! I’m intense?!” he exclaims before noticing his rising volume, earning a few shushes from the people around him. “Alright, fine, I can be a little intense, but it’s just because I don’t like playing games. I like getting right down to it. Why waste time?”

George retorts to his brother, “But how do you know that she doesn’t like the chase, mate? Maybe she needs to take things slow.”

Fred just rolls his eyes, “Have I ever not succeeded in getting a girl with my method?” Alicia and Angelina scoff before returning back to their books, their argument about the right answer ensuing yet again. Fred continues talking to George, “Look, she’s also studying for Flitwick’s exam. Maybe she needs help. How kind of me to offer her some help!”

Fred rises from his seat, grabbing his book leaving the table. “How are you gonna help her when you barely know what you’re doing, mate?” George speaks.

Spinning around, Fred quickly responds, “She doesn’t know that. Fake it ‘till you make it.” He sends his brother and their friends a wink before heading over to your table, unbeknownst to you.

You were deep into reading your book for Flitwick’s class, flipping wildly through pages to find the charm and wand movement you were looking for. “It has to be here somewhere,” you mumble to yourself, licking your fingertips before flipping through pages.

“Need help?” you hear a voice speak. You look up to see Fred Weasley towering over you, a small smirk on his lips. Your heart rate speeds up the moment you see him, heart pounding against your chest. Your mouth goes dry and every thought in your mind vanishes. He literally made you speechless. Don’t freak out, you think to yourself. “May I?” he asks, referring to the empty seat next to you. Nodding your head up and down, you quickly look away from him as to not draw anymore attention to yourself. Fred takes the seat next to you as you feel your cheeks heating up, suddenly becoming more self-aware in the space next to him. “Studying for Flitwick’s exam?” he asks.

Taking a gulp, you muster up the words to speak to the cute boy next to you. “Um, yeah,” you nod your head, eyes still glued to the textbook, refusing to look at him. It felt wrong to look at him for some reason. Fred’s gaze did something to you. It felt so intimate for the strangest reason. “Or attempting to,” you add. “I can’t seem to find the charm I’m looking for in the textbook.”

Fred scoots his chair closer to you and you tense up a little bit. He reaches to your textbook and says, “Maybe I can be of some help? What charm is it?” As he asks you, he places his arm around the back of your chair, resting it around you. You become very aware of his slick placement, an obvious move, and your mouth goes dry. Fred was making his move and he was monitoring your reaction carefully.

You didn't know what to do. Flirt back? Answer his question? Tell him that you’re okay and that’ll you’ll find it? You didn’t want him to think that you didn’t like his flirtation because you did, you just didn’t know how to react. Instead of saying something flirty back, you just look at him and answer the question. “Erecto,” you speak as Fred widens his eyes. Of course. You just widen your eyes back as Fred chuckles. “I-I-I didn’t mean it like that, I meant that’s the charm I’m looking for!” you justify your answer.

Fred continues to chuckle before replying, “At least take me on a date first, (Y/N).” He sends you a wink as your cheeks go bright red, making Fred chuckle more. “You look adorable when you blush,” Fred confesses which only makes you blusher harder and look away from him, a smile forming on your lips which Fred doesn’t miss. The smile makes Fred smile wider and his heart flutter. “Alright, let me have a look,” he pulls the textbook, flipping through pages with one hand, keeping his other arm around the back of your chair. You just sit quietly and play with the quill in your hand, tucking your hand behind your ear. Godric, this was embarrassing. “And here we have it. Right next to Engorgio,” he winks at you as you bite your lip to hold back your smile. Fred notices and speaks, “Hey, don’t hide that smile from me. You look beautiful when you smile.” He pushes a piece of hair out of your face and brushes it behind your ear as you heart stops, making your mouth go dry. You let a small smile pull at the corners of your mouth. “There we are. Beautiful.”

The two of you look at each other for a moment, staring at the other. Fred’s eyes dart all over your face trying to gage your reaction to his words, nervously scanning you. You just stare at Fred’s eyes and look at how much life are behind them. Aside from being a goof, Fred Weasley had so much charm and charisma. That’s what made him so attractive. He was confident in himself. But you don’t let yourself get carried away. You break your gaze and go back to your work, but Fred keeps looking at you. “Thank you, Fred,” you tell him quietly, scribbling down the charm on your parchment.

You can still feel Fred’s eyes on you as you write, growing uncomfortable in his gaze. It wasn’t that he was making you uncomfortable, it’s just the fact that he loved look at you was something you weren’t used to. “Can I ask you something, (Y/N)?” he asks as your heart stops. Uh oh.

Your mind is racing with possible questions he could ask you, but you still say, “Sure.”

Fred takes in a breath before speaking, “Do you consider me intense?”

You furrow your brows, “Intense?”

“Yeah, like Alicia told me I’m intense. I understand that if she was referring to me when I’m playing quidditch, but she meant like...when I’m around a girl that I like...I’m intense with them. Would you agree?” he asks, arm still around you as you bite down on your lip, confused.

You open your mouth to speak, trying to formulate a sentence. “Well, I don’t know...I haven’t seen you interact with a girl who you fancy,” you tell him as you play with the quill in your hands.

Your comment makes Fred laugh and shake his head. “Merlin,” he breathes out. “You’re bluffing, right?” You furrow your brows yet again, completely confused. You were being truthful. You knew that Fred flirted with you, but didn’t he flirt with everyone? That was Fred’s thing, wasn’t it? “(Y/N), I fancy you. I have since fifth year,” Fred confesses.

In that moment, your heart stops. Fred Weasley fancied you? So the flirting was because he fancied you? “Oh,” you speak as Fred just chuckles, waiting for you to say something. Your shyness gets the best of you again and you just blush deep crimson for the thousandth time, making Fred smile. “I didn’t know, Fred.”

He shakes his head, “For someone as smart and as gorgeous as you, you’re quite oblivious, (Y/N). I’ve been flirting with you every day, sneaking a glance or touch when I can. You thought I was doing all of that to be friendly?” You just shrug in response. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable during any of it, it’s just the way I’m used to flirting with girls,” he tells you with a soft smile. “But I am serious. I do have a crush on you. And I’d love to take you out on a date if you’d let me, (Y/N).”

Your heart is beating a mile a minute and your palms are sweating. There’s no way that this is happening right now. Five minutes ago you were freaking out over an exam and now you were being asked out on a date by one of the fittest guys in your year. With a shaky breath in and a smile, you reply, “Okay. I’ll go on a date with you.”

Fred gives you a toothy grin. “Brilliant,” he beams. “How does this Friday work? We can go to the Three Broomsticks and get some Butterbeer?” he asks. “7pm?” You give him a small nod, rubbing the back of your neck, trying to hide your excitement. “Cool. Don’t worry, darling, I’ll make it worth your while,” he winks before placing a small kiss on your bright crimson cheek. “I’ll see you then.” He rises from his chair and makes his way back to the table where George, Alicia, and Angelina eagerly wait for him.

As he walks away, you let out a little giggle, excited for what the weekend has in store for you. Now with a beaming smile on your face, you continue to study for the exam, in a much better mood than before. “I’ve got a date with Fred Weasley,” you whisper to yourself, blushing hard as you flip through pages of your book.

“And?” George asks as Fred plops back down in his chair. “You scare her away again? Or did you behave yourself?” he pushes Fred’s shoulder.

Fred looks at his friends and brother and simply speaks, “Intense my arse. Guess who has a date this Friday?” he leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest as his friends’ jaws drop. “Don’t act surprised. I told you my method always works.”

George scoffs, “Yeah right. Hey, (Y/N)!” He bellows from the opposite side of the library, grabbing your attention as your eyes widen at the call. “My idiot brother said he’s got a date with you on Friday. That true? Or did he bribe you to say yes?” Fred slaps his brother upside the head.

You let out a light laugh, very aware of the multiple pairs of eyes on you from various students, anticipating your answer. “I don’t do bribes, George. Besides, your brother has quite the way with words,” you tease with a little more confidence, earning a few oohs from around you.

George stares at you and then Fred in disbelief. Then he speaks, “Nice going, mate!” Fred chuckles before looking over at you, sending you a wink.

#Fred and George #fred weasley #Fred and Goerge Weasley #fred #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x reader imagine #fred weasley x muggle!reader #fred weasly x reader #fred weasley x female reader #fred weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley x y/n #HP

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omg-im-such-a-masochist · 2 years

Note

angsty sex headcanons for Hangman? 💜

Fuck 💦❤️

@hungmanhorsecarriage, @theworldofotps, @writtingrose, @sophiewolfheart-blog, @wrestlersownmyheart, @aerynscrichton, @thealliasylum, @crowleysqueenofhell, @new-zealand-chic, @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch, @ava-valerie

Generally, you didn’t argue that often

It was actually pretty rare

But lately, the stress from work, jealousy and neediness was taking the best out of you both

So the rare times Adam was home

You fought over the most stupidest things

This time, the fight happened because you bought the wrong coffee

You were both screaming and cursing each other over a fucking.coffee

“I told you one thousand fucking times, Y/N. I hate this fucking brand!” Adam tossed the coffee pack inside the sink

“And I already told you that I’m fucking sorry, ok?! I had a lot of shit on my mind and I just grabbed the first coffee I saw”

“But you had to grab the one that I fucking hate, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t see it, damn it!”

“Bullshit! You’re always doing this!” Adam ran his hands through his hair in exasperation “Always so fucking selfish” He muttered under his breath

“Excuse me?” You yelled “You know what? Fuck you! I’m selfish? I’m the one who stays alone in this fucking house! I fucking married you, but I only get to see you once a week if I’m lucky enough! While you and your little road buddies get to go to bars and have a drink every night, I work and stay in this stupid house, all by myself, taking care of everything else! And you come tell me that I’m selfish? Screw you!”

“The only reason I’m on the road is because I’m working, sweetheart!” He bitterly spat “And I work VERY hard and my job is VERY stressful and if you don’t know the meaning of that...” Adam shrugged

“Don’t I?” You screamed “I do EVERYTHING! I work, I cook, I clean, go to the bank, buy groceries, pay the bills, take care of your schedule, I manage every single thing in your professional life even when it has absolutely NOTHING to do with mine! So you can come home, barely look at my face, sit down on the fucking couch, because I’ve done everything, and play your dumb video games while I get ignored. And I’m the selfish one?” Your voice was filled with anger

“You know what? Fuck you and fuck this marriage! I want the divorce” You took off your wedding ring and placed it on the coffee table while you made your way upstairs to the bedroom. You tried to close the door on his face, but Adam was quicker and held the door open with his foot.

“You’re not getting the fucking divorce, you know why?” He pushed you down on the bed “Because I fucking love you and I can’t live without you” Adam tried to kiss you but you pushed his face away. He then placed your hands above your head

“Bullshit!” You said while fighting against his grip “If you loved me, you wouldn’t argue with me all the time”

“I argue with you because I’m dumb and am frustrated because we can’t get as much time together as we did in the past” He leaned down and quickly pecked your lips “And I fucking miss you so much” Adam released your wrists and you threw your arms around his neck “I need you more than I need air, sweets” He kissed you deeply ”You know that, don’t you, baby?”

“I hate when we fight” Your hands dipped inside his t-shirt

“Me too” His lips found your neck “I promise you we’ll take a nice vacation, anywhere you wanna go, just the two of us, no phones, no interruptions”

“That sounds like a nice way to apologize” You teased

“No, no, no, baby. As an apology, I’ll first eat this pussy until the whole neighborhood hears your moans and then I’ll fuck you until you’re sore”

Everything happens that night

Impact play

Hard pounding

Lots of dirty talk

Loud moans

Wax Play

And a call from a very concerned next door neighbor...

#adam page #hangman page #hangmanadampage #adam hangman page #adam page imagine #adam page x reader #adam page fanfiction #adam page smut #masochist writes #masochist headcanons #ask #thanks for the ask!#answered ask #nonny asks

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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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anniesocsandgeneralstore · 2 years

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@heygerald asked: 1) Rick is left alone with the baby and 2) Dee goes back to work since her whole catatonic episode. Just dad!Rick struggling to keep his sanity with a baby, a house of mentally insane criminals, and no wife at his side.

If I Go Universe - Baby's Day Out (Rick Flag x OC)

Summary: When Eleanor invites Dee on a well-deserved weekend getaway, of course, Rick tells her that she can go. He's got this. He's ex-special forces and led the Suicide Squad for years - he can handle a few days alone in the house with little Leo and the Squad Family. Or maybe he can't.

Pairing: Rick Flag x OC / Squad Family & OC (Delphia Holman)

Word Count: 3432

Warnings: dad!flag deserves his own warning, language, kind of missing child mention, flufff

Timeline: August 2023

if i go masterlist

“Are you sure you guys are gonna be okay while I’m gone?” Delphia asked for what felt like the tenth time as she packed up her weekend bag.

Rick sat on the edge of the bed with Leo in his lap, the one-year-old playing with a dead remote to a TV they replaced a long time ago. Screw all the fancy baby toys they got him. Leo may have had that signature white hair just like his mom, but Delphia was pretty sure — day by day — he was becoming more and more like his dad. He was already so curious and loving, generous and easy to make laugh. God, that baby’s laugh. It was contagious and loud and the most joyous thing Delphia had ever heard. He liked to wiggle around to music and play with Nanaue in the pool. And just last week, Leo finally figured out how to walk. It was stumbling and slow and he fell back on his butt more often than not but he was walking. It was an act that Delphia and Rick could watch all day long.

Rick sighed as he looked down at the one-year-old’s head. “She has no confidence in us.”

“I have confidence in you!” she defended, “I just, um….Feel guilty?”

“There’s nothing to feel guilty for, baby girl.” Rick stood from the bed, Leo held with his back to his father’s chest while he squealed in delight over finally getting the remote in his mouth. “You haven’t gone anywhere in almost a year. You deserve a weekend away.”

Delphia bit her lip as she looked at them, her boys. She really did want to go on this mini-vacation with Eleanor. They had rented a cabin and Asheville and had a tour of the Biltmore scheduled for tomorrow. It was going to be a weekend full of too much wine, old high school gossip, and probably fondly remembering when they could drink that much and not have a massive hangover. She wanted to do that with her friend. But she also wanted to just stay home with her baby and her husband. This was the first time she would be spending a long time apart from Leo. It was breaking her apart that she actually wanted to leave him for a few days.

“Hey, don’t,” Rick whispered as he cupped her cheek with his much larger hand, “Okay? I know that look. It’s okay to want some time away. It’s okay.”

She leaned into his touch with her eyes slipped shut. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. Go have fun.”

Delphia led the way down stairs, weekend bag on her shoulders and Rick trailing behind her with Leo babbling in his arms. Eleanor and DuBois were already standing in the entryway, holding hands as they said their final goodbyes.

“I’m not gonna miss you, like — at all,” DuBois said as he pulled Eleanor just that bit closer.

“Oh, really?” she challenged with a raised brow, “Bet you text me ten hours into the trip.”

DuBois smiled as he dropped his head. “Bet ya it’s more like five.”

“You’re such a little shit,” Eleanor laughed, then she noticed Delphia coming off the last step and said, “Took you long enough! Ready to go?”

“Sorry, sorry.” Delphia raised her hands in surrender. “I’m almost ready — just need one last thing.”

She turned to Rick with a smile, popped up on her toes so she could kiss him properly on the lips. She kissed him once, twice, three times before she finally pulled away with a hand to his chest.

“Love you, baby girl,” Rick muttered, an uncontrollable grin on his face.

“Love you too, babe.” Then she lifted Leo out of his arms and held him up over her head as he laughed. “And I love my little bean! Yes, I do! I love him so!”

Leo continued to giggle profusely as his mom showered his chubby cheeks with kisses. He accidently hit her in the face with the remote but she didn’t care. She lifted him up one last time to blow a raspberry into his belly, making him shriek with delight.

“Be a good boy for Daddy, okay?” she told Leo one last time before handing him back over to his father.

“We’re gonna be just fine,” Rick reassured.

“I know.”

Delphia pressed one final kiss to his lips and then Eleanor was practically dragging her out the door and towards the car. Rick and DuBois followed them out onto the front patio, both of them raising their hands in one final goodbye as the car sped down the gravel driveway towards the main road.

DuBois turned to Rick once they couldn’t see the car anymore, his own set of keys jingling as he spun them around his finger. “Alright — gonna go talk to that politician's wife a few towns over.”

“Congressman’s wife?” Rick asked, bouncing Leo in his arms.

“Yeah, yeah. Thinks he’s cheatin’ and wants us to look into it.”

Rick leveled DuBois with a look. “Man, I told you we’re not takin’ those kinda — “

“No, no — she thinks he’s cheatin’ on the election. S’why he’s won so many years in a row,” Dubois said.

“Oh, shit,” Rick said, “Definitely a job that’ll blow up in our faces if she’s wrong.”

“Which is why I’m gonna go talk to her. See what evidence she’s got.” DuBois shrugged as he walked down the front steps towards his vehicle.

“Don’t take it unless it feels absolutely solid!” Rick called after him.

DuBois opened the door and looked back at him with his head cocked. “That’s what she said!”

“Un-fuckin’-beliveable.” Rick shook his head as he watched DuBois duck inside his car and peel out of the driveway, then he looked down at Leo. “Oh, shit — sorry. You know your mom doesn’t like it when I cuss in front’a you. But guess who’s not fuckin’ here?”

Rick walked back inside the house, his son staring up at him like he was telling the absolute truth. “And besides, s’not like you can really understand me anyways. Let’s get you a snack, big guy.”

Leo wiggled and jumped in his father’s arms as they approached the kitchen, but Rick held him tight against his chest so he wouldn’t slip out. With the ease of someone who had been doing it for almost a year, Rick put Leo into his high chair and easily clipped him into it so he couldn’t go anywhere. He remembered the first few times he did it. He was scared to squish his legs through the holes and strapping him in was a whole five minute ordeal. But now it took less than ten seconds, and as Rick poured a bit of Leo’s favorite rice cereal out onto the tray, he felt a surge of confidence in his chest.

He could do this without Delphia. He would survive a few days without her. In fact, he was pretty sure he wouldn’t even have to call her about anything as he watched, a slight quirk to his lips, Leo concentrate with all his might on picking up one piece of cereal and shoving it in his open mouth. A dance breaking out across his little shoulders, a habit learned from his mom.

“Will you two stop! It’s my turn with the car!” Harley’s voice screeched from the living room.

“It is not!” Abner called back.

“You erased our names from the list, Harley!” Cleo whined, “You know that’s not right!”

“Well, at least now you know for next time that you need to use a pen.”

Harley waltzed into the kitchen first, face split into a wide grin and carkeys dangling from her painted fingers. Abner and Cleo were close behind, faces pulled down in anger and desperation. But as soon as they spotted Rick leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, the jilted pair instantly perked up.

“Colonel Flag! Tell Harley that she needs to give me the keys!” Cleo said, scurrying over to him with a pleading look in her eyes.

Rick sighed. Of course they chose today to act like a bunch of teenagers. But he still had that confidence raging in his chest. Filling him up like a balloon. He could do this. He’s handled conflicts with guns in everyones’ hands and someone else’s finger on a detonator. He could handle a little family squabble easy as pie.

“Okay, somebody tell me what’s goin’ on,” he ordered, picking himself up off the counter with his hands on his hips.

A perfect demonstration of why he was so deserving of the title Colonel.

“Okay, okay, so I was on the car list for this morning so I could drive to the store and get Sebastian more rat pellets.” Cleo put a hand to her chest then looked to Abner expectantly.

“And I was on the list for after she got back so I could go to the library and return all my books.”

“But, but Harley erased both of our names so she could go to town and buy nail polish,” Cleo said.

“It’s an emergency!” Harley interjected, “My nails look a fright and can’t go around lookin’ like this!”

Rick leveled her with a look he hoped read: you’re an adult, do better — a look he had seen Delphia give many members of the squad several times before. A look he had been on the receiving end of once or twice. And he watched, satisfied, as Harley gave him a pout that screamed she knew she was wrong. God, he was good.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” Rick said as he plucked the keys from Harley’s hand, “I’ll drive everybody to town in the van and everybody can do their errands. Sound fair?”

Everyone grumbled but they didn’t disagree, and that was enough for Rick to go off of. After snatching Leo back out of the high chair and stowing him safely away in his carseat, the five of them were off towards town. The car ride was unusually silent. Cleo’s arms were crossed and she only stared out the window, Sebastian sulking on her shoulder as if to copy his friend's mood. Abner flipped absentmindedly through the stack of books perched in his lap. And Harley sat in the front seat, fidgeting with the colorful rings on her fingers and biting at her lip harshly. Above it all Leo was babbling loudly, a noise no one was going to shush because at least he was happy.

Rick sighed, hands twisting the steering wheel in his grip. He needed to fix this. He was good at that, fixing things. Had been since he was a kid. So fixing a relationship between friends couldn’t be much different than making his RC car work, right?

“You need to apologize,” Rick muttered to Harley so no one else would hear.

“I know I do,” she sighed with a dramatic roll of her head, “It’s just that….bein’ good is hard.”

He shrugged. “It’s real easy to be a piece of shit. Giving a shit is what’s hard. But ya know….It’s worth it, if you’re givin’ a shit about the right people.”

“Da-da! Da-da!” Leo called out amongst his babbling.

“Hey, buddy.” Rick smiled, glancing in the rearview mirror to see his son’s chubby legs kicking wildly. “You good?”

“Ah! Ah!”

“Wonderful. Good to hear.”

“Thanks, Flag,” Harley spoke quietly, “You’re good at…knowin’ what to say.”

Rick puffed up his chest as he grinned. His pride and confidence swelled even more. He was doing great and Delphia was going to be shocked when she came home.

The five of them decided to park the van and walk to each of their destinations. It was a beautiful august day in North Carolina and luckily the stroller was stowed in the back of the vehicle. They had already stopped by the library for Abner, who came out with maybe even more books than he came in with. Then they stopped at the grocery store for Harley to pick out new nail polish, an ordeal that took twenty minutes in which she finally picked out a lovely shade of neon green. Now Harley, Abner, Rick, and Leo were waiting outside the petstore for Cleo to come back out with her bag of rat pellets.

As Rick pushed Leo’s stroller back and forth, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He really hoped it wasn’t Delphia calling him already to ask if everything was okay. And he was actually relieved when he pulled out his phone and saw that it was Cleo calling him instead.

“Hey, Ratatouille, what’s up?” he asked as he held the phone up to his ear.

“Hello, Colonel Flag,” she replied in a soft voice, “I forgot my wallet. Could you come in and help me?”

Rick glanced over at Harley and Abner. He would prefer not to leave Leo with them, but really it was only going to be a minute at the most. What could possibly happen in a few minutes?

So he tilted the phone away from his mouth and said, “Hey, guys — gonna head in for a few minutes. Watch him?”

“We got it,” Harley waved her hand flippantly, though Abner looked like he wanted to throw up.

“Thanks. Yeah. Yeah, Ratatouille, I’m comin’ in.”

It was only a few minutes. He was in and out of the store in five minutes. He paid and Cleo was grateful and he told her she didn’t have to pay him back even though she insisted. He felt on top of the world. He felt confident and cool and calm and capable of anything that life had to throw at him while he was the sole responsible adult in a house full of criminals and a baby.

In an instant it all came crashing down. In an instant he and his pride popped like an overfilled balloon.

Because as soon as he came out of the store with Cleo trailing happily behind him, he very much so noticed the fact that Leo was no longer in his stroller. And Harley and Abner were standing there empty handed.

He tried not to panic, tried not to feel that icy hand around his heart that made it hard to breathe. But for the moment, his son was missing. And as he marched over with a tight lip and sweating palms, he felt like he could’ve torn the world down in order to see him again.

“Guys, where’s Leo?” he asked once he reached Harley and Abner, voice stern and quiet.

“What’re you talkin’ about? He’s right — “ Harley bent over to look inside the stroller and popped up instantly with a frown. “Okay so he’s not right here.”

“Well where the fuck is he then?” Rick’s voice boomed, making Abner flinch.

Cleo gasped from behind him, her finger pointing straight out. “There!”

Rick looked to where she was pointing. There, across the street, waddling his way into the park was a baby with a mop of white hair and a sippy cup under his arm. Jesus, that kid could move fast. Without a second thought Rick started running towards the park, expert eyes trained on that bobbing white head.

But before he could make it a step off the sidewalk a car was honking it’s horn at him, forcing him to stop as it zoomed past. Rick glared at the car as it drove away, his entire chest aflame at the idea that his son was wandering around alone in the city park. But when the car was no longer blocking the park entrance from view, Leo was gone. Rick nearly yelped as he ran across the now-empty street. The flames inside were choking him now, making it hard to breathe. God, if Delphia could see him now — could see how his pride had led to a very disastrous fall. She would probably blow the timeline just to get Leo back safe. And right about then Rick was feeling the exact same way.

“Do you see him?” Abner asked, panting, as the other three joined Rick in the park.

“No,” Harley replied.

A high-pitched laugh echoed in the quiet, grassy area of the park's entrance. Rick turned towards the sound and there Leo was, standing beside a trash can with a huge grin on his face like they were playing a game.Rick sprinted across the grass, desperate to have his son safe in his arms again and to know that he was alright. In an instant, Leo was squealing with playful delight as his father snatched him from the grass at top speeds.

Rick panted as he hugged Leo to his chest, smoothed his hand over that head of white hair. His heart was pounding in his ribcage, thumping in his very ears. Where once his muscles had been pulled taught, ready to pull the world apart, he now felt exhaustion creeping in its place. He glanced at the other three as they approached slowly, relieved and also guilting expressions on all their faces.

Pulling Leo back just enough to look into his chubby face, Rick spoke sternly, “Leo Richard Flag, that was not fuckin’ cool.”

Rick nearly wanted to take it back as he watched his son’s smiling mouth turned down into a nearly comedic frown, as big fat tears welling in his eyes. But even at such a young age, Leo knew that some things were wrong, and this he most certainly had to learn was the wrong thing to do. So Rick just let him cry his little heart out into his t-shirt as everyone walked back to the van.

“Sorry I yelled at ya like that, Pokey.” Rick put his hand on Abner’s shoulder and gave it a good shake.

“It’s okay,” Abner sighed, glancing over at the wailing Leo awkwardly, “I should’ve been watching him instead of looking at my books.”

“We’ll just consider yer babysittin’ privileges revoked for the time being.”

“Oh, thank God.”

Once at the van, Leo’s cries had reduced to soft whimpers and sniffles. He looked up at Rick with big, watery eyes and a pushed-out lip as he was put in his car seat.

“Love you, big guy,” Rick reminded softly with a kiss to his son’s head.

When Delphia got home it was dark out. The weekend had gone about as she suspected. Too much wine, but a good hike here and there, a beautiful tour of the Biltmore grounds, and a great time with her best friend.

It was quiet when she entered the house. Unusual, but then again it was well past Leo’s bedtime. She hoped she could sneak into his nursery and give him a few kisses without waking him up. In the darkness it was hard to spot, but where there had once been a clean floor was definitely now covered in a fine layer of toys and discarded snacks. Oh, boy. She crept up the stairs quietly, leaving her bag in the foyer to be dealt with later. But when she got into the doorway of the nursery, also completely destroyed, she could clearly see that the crib was empty and Leo was nowhere to be found.

Brows furrowed, Delphia padded softly down the hall to the master bedroom. And it felt like her entire insides had melted at the sight she found there.

All the lights were off save for her bedside lamp, Rick having probably left it on for her. Leo’s sound machine was going gently in the corner, displaying a colorful array of stars onto the ceiling. And in the middle of the bed lay Rick and Leo. Delphia had to put her hands over her mouth to hold in the joyful noise that wanted to escape her. She didn't want to disturb this, not this quiet moment of complete bliss and peace.

The two of them were laying in nearly the exact same position. Arms thrown above their heads, one leg crooked at an angle, and faces tilted towards the mattress. They were both deep asleep, chests going up and down slowly in a soothing sort of rhythm. Rick had Goodnight Moon laying open on his chest and a nearly empty bottle laid between them. It made her heart ache and yearn for something she already had. It ached and yearned for every moment to be this precious, to be this good. She wanted to bask in it like finding a patch of warming sunlight in January.

Her beautiful, beautiful Flag boys.

Taglist (if you would like to be tagged in future installments, just let me know!): @bbygrgu @a-reader-and-a-writer @slayerx147 @xoxabs88xox @kasey-puff @witchygagirl @the-pink-petite-princess @blooo0ooop @woodlandmouth @csigeoblue @rexorangecouny @h-hxgirl @thisisthewayrose @blondiekook @darkestbeforethedawn16 @runic-belova @weallhaveadestiny @oopsiedoopsie23 @nerdgrrlramblings @ocfairygodmother @reysorigins @hawsx3

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