#as well as gabs leaving him | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingsfromhome · 1 month

Text

Dos and Don’ts II

A/N: the story kinda got away from me so it’s getting a part 3. Would love to know what you think of the characters/choices!

Part 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

—————————————————

It’s a beautiful morning; the late summer heat is right around the hour but for now the morning clouds keeps the city cool. I’m sat at Harry’s dinner table with stacks of paper around me, sorting out paperwork whilst on hold with a private venue he was playing in the fall to sort out some details his manager asked me for.

I had become good at my job, multitasking like a pro and not having to leave the room to make a call. After all, it had been nearly half a year of this.

And yet, my relationship with Harry Styles had stayed the same. Sometimes it felt like it got worse.

My other relationships, in the rest of my life, had definitely gotten worse.

“Riley just called said he’s sent over some prints I bought for the bedroom,” Harry pops into the room. “Can you call someone to put them up?”

“Yeah, where do you want them?” I get up so he can show me.

“Somewhere that looks good in there,” he waves his hand. “It’s pictures of me.”

“Of course they are,” I know how big-headed he could be. “Above the bed?”

“Hm,” he heads off to the bedroom so I follow. He examines each wall of his bedroom which was pretty neutral and relaxing to be in. “Why not? Yeah. Above the bed’s good.”

“Great.” With that I head back to my makeshift office.

I wondered why Riley didn’t message me directly about the prints considering we avoided getting Harry involved in these minor decisions.

Maybe I’d ask him tonight. We were having drinks—we tried a bunch of times to get together seeing we were “coworkers” but our timing rarely worked out. Since Gray was out of town the next two nights I’d reached out to Riley.

Evening comes quicker while I’m still buried behind paper. I start tidying up after 7.

“Going home?” Harry asks. He’d been out most of the day at voice lessons.

“Yes, your dinner’s in the oven and Roy said he left cocktails in the fridge.”

“Lovely Roy,” Harry rubs his hands together. “He makes the best drinks.”

I smile and go back to work.

“There’s enough for two,” he calls with his head in the fridge. “You want to join?”

Of course the one night Harry asks me to join him personally—a time I could use to get on his good side, I’m going out.

“I’m actually heading out for drinks myself.” He’s already placed the jug on the marble countertop.

“Oh.” He freezes awkwardly. “With your fiancé?”

“No,” for some reason I feel flustered at his mention of Gray. “With Riley actually. We’ve been meaning to get together for drinks since…I started. Wow. That’s been a long time.”

“Riley,” Harry purses his lips. “Does your fiancé know?”

“It’s a friendly drink,” I feel my temper flare. “I don’t need to report to my fiance.”

“If my fiancé was going out to drinks with a man with loose hands, I’d worry.”

“Well it’s a good thing we’re not engaged,” I mouth off before I can stop myself. He raises a brow and the single movement has me backpedaling. I was such a coward. “So you don’t have to worry.”

“Y/n you get away with a lot but I’d remember who’s working for who.”

I clench my teeth. Just seconds ago he was inviting me for a drink and now I’ve dug myself a grave. I couldn’t be stopped.

I grab my bag and head to the elevator.

“Don’t turn your back on him once he’s got a few drinks in.” Harry calls out.

Asshole, I think.

***

God, Riley talked a lot. He’s got 3 drinks to my 1.5 and really got the gift of the gab.

That is until he starts asking me about Harry.

“Do you find him hot? He’s kind of a lady’s man yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” I laugh. “Got ‘em all lined up.”

“And you?” He asks casually. “Has he got you yet?”

“Riley! I’m engaged,” I flash my ring.

“Didn’t stop the last girl,” he mutters.

“What? What’s that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me,” I poke him, knowing he wanted to talk about it anyway.

“Just that the last PA he had for…less than a year? She had a boyfriend and everything but one time I pop in early to set up for this masseuse right—I’m there and I hear someone in the bedroom with him. No big deal whatever. Then Harry comes out and he’s fuming just seeing me. Tells me to get out and leave the rest, that I should have called him. All this shite. And then I see her jacket, she wore a very specific jacket, and her shoes off the way. He was angry cuz I caught them.”

“Woah,” I think about the way Harry treats me. “Well I don’t have to worry about that. He can be a right dick with me.”

“He can come off that way. Until you get to know him. Well. He used to be nicer. It’s changed a bit since I started.”

“How long?” I ask, curious.

“Uhh I was his PA for a year and now this for one and a half?”

“Wow. That’s a long time.”

“I know. Too long. Well, big things are coming for me I can feel it. How about you? Are you staying long? I hear the way he talks to you, I don’t know how you put up with it.”

I thought he talked to all his PAs that way. Maybe he was different when Riley was his. Of maybe it was that Riley was a guy. Maybe the fame got to his head. “Uhm. I want to stick around for at least a year. What do you mean the way he talks to me?”

“He’s rude.” Riley runs his hand through his hair. “Don’t you find him rude? You’re surprisingly…graceful, but he’s always bossing you around and then ignoring you.”

I feel a pit in my stomach. So I wasn’t imagining it. “I thought that’s just the way he is.”

“No, you should have met him a couple years ago. A really cool guy. He taught me a lot.” Riley suddenly sobers as he looks off into the distance. “I grew a lot with him. I’m thankful for that y’know?”

“Right,” I nod. “Yeah. I dunno. I’m hoping to learn a lot here.”

“Well if you want to stay connected, keep my number. When you wanna jump ship just let me know.”

I’m surprised Riley is talking so openly about helping me leave. I would have thought he was a Harry die-hard.

“Yeah. Hey are you the one that’s created all those notes on the phone? They’ve been a life saver.”

“Notes? Oh the lists. I made them when I was his PA. I don’t know if the last girl updated any…”

I think of the snarky additions. She definitely did.

“Well I owe you my first-born because without them I’m pretty sure I would have been fired.”

“No you wouldn’t have,” he smirks.

“Uh yeah, I forgot to bring his bloody tablet to the studio the first day. He was so mad.”

“He wouldn’t fire you y/n,” he cocks his head to the side. “Not with the way I see it.”

“Huh?” I ask but Riley’s turned to the bar to ask for another drink.

I excuse myself and freshen up, checking my phone for messages. Gray’s sent me a picture of his hotel view and I send him a quick text back. I wish he was here. Maybe it was time I got home, I was starting to feel tired.

“I’m thinking of heading home,” I tell Riley when I get back.

“Now?” He looks at his watch. “Night’s still young y/l/n.”

“I’ve been up since 6 I’m dead.”

“Fine, I’ll walk you outside.” Riley knocks back half his drink and stands, swaying slightly. I put my hand out to steady him and he smiles down at me.

The pub is crowded as we walk past people, shoulders brushing against strangers. It takes me a second to feel the hand on my back sliding down to my ass.

I whip around to chew out whichever stranger thought he could get a grope but the only person behind me is Riley with a cocky smile.

“You alright? Let’s keep going.”

I can hear the blood pumping in my ears and I stumble back, Harry’s words echoing in my ear.

“I’m alright.” I try to put distance between us. “I’ll walk myself out you should look after your drink.”

“Nah c’mon,” he reaches for me again and I inch back.

“I said I’m okay,” I know my voice comes out harsh due to the fear coursing through my body. But I don’t care.

“Bloody hell alright then,” Riley shrugs. “Night y/n.”

I wait for him to turn and leave before I get out of there. The night air cools down the flush in my cheeks but I can’t get my heart to stop racing. Harry was right and for some reason it makes me angry at him. I’m furious.

All these men just made me feel small and confused all the time. Is that what I had to accept working in this industry? Was I just naïve for thinking things could be decent? That people could be decent?

I wish more than ever that Grayson was here. I imagine him on his own in another city. Then I imagine him alone, at home, while I’m working all the time. It felt like we were on a piece of ice drifting through the ocean and the middle was cracking leaving us to drift alone. My heart feels like it’s cracking with it.

I call Gray on the ride home just to see his face. I listen to him talk about his day and slowly my grip on the anger loosens. Slowly with his voice in my ear, I come back down to earth.

***

It’s a couple weeks after the Riley incident. I’d come into work the next day and managed to ignore Harry for most of it just like he did me.

Today I’m back at the dining table waiting for Harry’s publicist to call me to take me through what was left for this upcoming weekend for a small awards show Harry had been nominated in that was happening Sunday. Riley would be on the call too, the first time I’d seen him since that night. I just hoped my pokerface was good enough to move on past any awkwardness.

“Let me get your thoughts on this,” Harry sits down across from me with a yoghurt. He’d just come from the gym and seeing him shirtless now was just another Thursday afternoon.

He’d taken to using me as a soundboard lately which started out interesting and got old quickly. He loved to hear himself talk, I’ve concluded. And I was forced to listen. And he always lied. He never wanted my thoughts on anything, just an ego stroke.

And just like usual he launches into a song he’s working on and something about string progression and inversion. I nod along until my phone rings and I pick it up instantly.

Graham and I speak about the details of event and I reassure him everything would run smoothly. When I’m done Harry’s nearly done the smoothie he grabbed while I was on the phone.

“Austria tomorrow, everything’s prepped?”

“Yep, for you.”

“Not for you?”

“I have the rest of the week off?” I remind him just like I’d been doing for the last two weeks. So this wouldn’t happen.

“You do? I thought that was next week. What am I gonna do without you there it’s 4 days.”

“I reckon you’ll survive,” I say with a light tone but I’ve learned the art of backhanded jokes. It felt like the only way to get some of my aggression out. “Plus Riley’s joining you Saturday afternoon.”

“So I’ll be alone on Friday?”

I look up from my laptop, “Are you ever really alone?”

“I guess I’ll just have to invite one of my girls to keep me company,” he continues watching me. “Keep my bed warm.”

“If you’d like,” I hated when he tried to make me uncomfortable. “Let me know which one and I can cut her a ticket.”

He clenches his jaw and levels me with an irritated look. “I’m sure Vienna has many beautiful people to choose from.”

Ignore ignore ignore. I go back to my screen and leave him on heard.

***

“It’s been too long,” Gray clinks his glass with mine. It’s Friday night and we’re having an early anniversary celebration.

This whole weekend I promised Gray I would be his from Friday though Sunday even though our actual anniversary was on Monday.

Our relationship that was once so strong, supportive, and loving had started treading rocky grounds. I felt jostled and very close to being kicked right off the ride altogether.

I look at my fiancé’s face, his dark features and serious looks made him look intimidating but a flicker of his smile and you felt like you were on the ins with him about something. I had missed him.

The last time we did anything together was at the beginning of summer. I had a long weekend off and he’d driven us to lake district, soaking in the sun and hiking along the peaks. We’d had a serious conversation about our relationship but a lot of it had felt like me apologizing and him accusing.

“You look radiant,” Gray reaches for my hand. “How are you?”

I didn’t think he wanted the real answer. I hold back a sigh and replace it with a smile, “Alright. Better now to be with you.”

He kisses the back of my hand and my stomach flutters. “Me too. I’m excited for this weekend.”

“Let’s see we’re seeing friends tomorrow for brunch, then doing old school movies and dinner in the evening.”

“That was one of our first dates don’t make fun.”

“I’m not! It’s a classic I’m excited. It’s been so long since I saw a movie with you.”

With Harry, I’d seen a few. I was always told to tag along on premieres Riley passed on.

“And Sunday we’re just being lazy bed bugs.”

“Mmm that sounds amazing.” I could use a day in bed. A week in bed would be even better.

The night is perfect and romantic and it soothes the heartache I’d been carrying, the guilt that I was killing my relationship. Gray is attentive and we laugh like we always did.

I don’t mention work. It makes me anxious knowing I had to put the biggest part of my life on mute in order to keep the good vibes going with Gray.

Saturday brunch brings me back to life. I’d missed our friends and catching up on their lives, all the chatter and the laughter. Gray keeps reaching for me at the table and I feel like I belong.

“So how’s the tyrant?” My friends had started calling Harry that since he always kept me from most of our social outings.

“The usual,” I try to keep it short for Gray’s sake.

“Grayson was complaining that you spend more time with him than your actual fiancé!”

“Is that so?” I turn to Gray with a teasing expression but he’s serious.

“I wouldn’t have helped her with the job if I knew,” Gray jokes when I nudge him. The table laughs but I fake it, knowing the kernel of truth in it.

“He can’t be all that bad?” Another friend asks.

“Nope. Pretty consistently bad,” I tell them. “I’m just telling myself it’s vital experience. It’s the only thing that helps me sleep.”

“When she sleeps at all,” Gray slips in another passive joke and I try to distance myself from it.

“Just wait, in a couple years I’ll be living my best life.” I raise my glass.

“To y/n’s best life,” the table cheers.

On the walk home from brunch Gray and I swing hands in between us. I want to bring up his passive comments but it feels stuck in my throat. His hand feels like lead in mine.

“Gray-“

“I’m sorry. I got a bit salty at brunch,” Gray admits. I nearly deflate completely with the sigh that comes out of me.

“That’s okay,” I kiss his cheek. His hand feels like an extension of mine again. “I know there’s a lot of things we don’t talk about, I know my job doesn’t make you happy. But I appreciate that you still support me and keep the peace even when I can be a bit of a dick sometimes.”

“Hey,” Gray stops and tugs me to him. “I love you. Nothing changes that.”

“I love you too,” he kisses me with the same passion he did last night, our first intimate night after a couple months. With the urgency in his kiss I can tell it wouldn’t be another couple until the next.

***

We get back in around 8 and I happily kick off the dress and boots I wore to dinner to snuggle in my pjs. I watch Gray remove his contacts as I comb through my hair.

“I still can’t believe that ending,” Gray says to me in the mirror.

“Same, I feel like everyone’s kept it so hush I didn’t even know there was going to be a plot twist!”

“I kind of saw it coming-“

“You did not!” I flick Gray. “Why do guys love to brag about seeing a movie ending coming.”

“It’s our roman empire,” he grins.

“You’re using that in the wrong context,” I roll my eyes. “Josie would be so disappointed. Oh I didn’t even turn my phone back on after the movie, Josie had texted me something.”

“Just leave it,” Gray calls out as I go back into the room to get my purse. “Let’s keep our phones off, stay unplugged tonight.”

“Too late,” I grin as my phone powers on already.

I know Gray stayed nervous about any call I got during our down time because he always thought it was Harry. To be honest I was surprised he hadn’t bothered me more than asking for a password yesterday.

As my services connect my phone vibrates with a dozen oncoming messages.

“Y/n,” I hear Grayson say in warning but my eyes stay glued to the screen that flicker with notifications.

I look up once they settle, my eyes are as wide as saucers and Gray’s watch me through the mirror, heavy and resigned.

“Please, ignore it,” Gray pleads just once.

“I just…I need to know what it’s about.” I plead back.

“It’s going to spiral,” he warns. “You can’t just look y/n you’re gonna get involved.”

“What if it’s an emergency? He wouldn’t message like this unless it’s an emergency!”

“Like the documents on Josie’s birthday? Or the hospital appointment that one bank holiday? Or his empty fridge on-“

“I get it. But Gray I have 14 notifications. And it’s from his manager too it’s gotta be an-“

“You have a life y/n!” Gray turns around quick like a pistol whip, I stumble back into the doorframe. “He has other people in his life other than you they can figure it out! Why do you keep putting your job, this man, before me? Before us?!”

“I’m not trying to! I’m not!” I stutter.

“What’s the worst case scenario huh? He tries you, and you don’t answer because you’re off. And he’ll find someone else to help—those type always have someone else.”

“You don’t get it-“

“I get it.” Gray lowers his volume. He looks around for his glasses and slides them on. “I get it clearly. You’re just scared you’re replaceable to Harry Styles.”

His words stun me a little. All I can do is watch as he puts on jeans and grabs his phone.

“Do you ever wonder who else in your life’s replaceable?” Gray says before he slams our door shut.

I sink back and my mind races with everything Grayson just said. I was awful, he must feel even more awful and I-

My phone vibrates. Jeff.

“H-hi?” I answer.

“What the fuck y/n! I’ve been trying to reach you for the last 2 hours-“

“My phone was off-“

“Have you even gotten any of the messages we’ve left you-“

“I’m not working today-“

“Obviously,” He cuts me off for the hundredth time. “Harry’s in Vienna alone with god knows who!”

I don’t point out the contradiction in his sentence.

“Isn’t Riley supposed to be with him?”

“Riley quit.”

“What?! When?”

“Today. Apparently the sneak’s been cozying up with one of Harry’s supposed friends. He’s left us high and dry!”

“Is that why you’re calling me?” My confusion grows.

“Jesus no. Just look at your bloody messages.”

I put him on speaker and check the link to the photos he sent me. I gasp.

Harry looks a mess, one in a bar and another right outside it. With a questionable choice of friends.

“He’s not answering his phone,” Jeff continues. “Nobody can reach him and Riley decided to courier the stupid phone back to the penthouse so we don’t have access to his gps. But you do. That’s why I’m trying to reach you y/n. You’ve gotta go there and get him home.”

“Get him home? He’s in another country!”

“Yes, for that niche fucking awards show. You gotta get him back to his hotel and sober him up. We paid some fucker way too much money not to leak these photos and I don’t want to find out some other fucker took more.”

“Isn’t this something his publicist should be doing? Or you?” I’m starting to get angry. Why was Harry like a big fucking toddler that I had to go get when he was misbehaving. “I took the weekend off-“

“Listen. Y/n. We will pay you 5 times your rate if you just get on a plane and sort him out. I’m in Iceland right now. On holiday! Nobody is paying me 5 times the amount to deal with this and I don’t get back to the UK until tomorrow.”

“His publicis-“

“And Graham is the one that caught all this but he doesn’t fly out until tomorrow. So that leaves you. Mr. Styles’ personal assistant.”

I think about Gray, should I call him? Let him know? Fuck. Fuck Harry and his ability to ruin my whole life.

“I don’t have a choice here do I?” I ask wearily.

“Sure you do, one gets you a nice pay check. The other doesn’t.”

“Fuck,” I swear just loud enough for him to hear. “Do you know when the next flight is.”

“There’s a private jet that can leave within the hour I’ll text you the address can you make it?”

I map it. 30 or so minutes away. I look around my room—I had my emergency duffle with my passport the Harry Survival Guide told me to keep so I didn’t need to pack much.

“Yeah. I’ll be there.”

***

“Out of all the fucking nights,” I swear as I take the elevator down. The flight had been under 2 hours and I’d kept my eyes glued to Harry’s phone locator. He’d moved one location so far. The hotel wasn’t too far from this location so I drop my bags off on the en-suite and head out into the beautiful city.

It’s buzzing despite the hour and I wish it was a calmer trip so I could take pictures and soak in the beauty of Vienna.

Instead I trudge on to the little dot on my phone and avoid thinking about Gray and how much he would love this city. And how badly I betrayed him tonight.

What to do when he won’t answer the phone: track his gps, get good at lock-picking and don’t be shy to call whoever he’s out with to get ahold of him. Harry not answering his phone unexpectedly usually means bad decisions.

I find Harry in a kitschy club but it’s not easy. In the flashes of blue and purple lights I sort through all the men about the same height as him. None of them are him.

I knew he was here. I scan the room a second time, he had to be in one of the private sections.

I walk the perimeter until I see a flash of a familiar laugh.

“Harry!” I shout but a man in a suit steps in front of me.

“Private area,” he says in a rough accent.

“I’m his assistant I need to see him!” I point to Harry but he just steps in my way again. I shout Harry’s name and on the second try he looks up.

“Heyy!” He lights up and picks his way over the people sitting around him. He loops his arm around the brick wall in front of me. “That’s y/n! Y/n you came let her in!”

“Thank you,” I shoot the man a dirty look even though I knew he was just doing his job. He was the difference between a PR disaster and no disaster. “Harry we-“

“Have a drink!” He slurs. My heart quickens when I get a glimpse of the table with an assortment of drugs all over it. “Relax. C’mon c’mon!”

Harry pours me champagne and leads me by the hand to where he was just sitting. A couple shift away to make room for me but I stay standing as Harry sinks into the cushion.

“Mr. Styles we-“

“Ms. Y/L/N,” Harry says seriously before bursting into laughter. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this uninhibited before. One part of me is nervous and another part finds it intriguing.

He tugs me down and I tip into the couch, the champagne sloshing over the rim. What the-

“Relax,” he whispers into my ear. It goes straight to my stomach. “Have some champagne and enjoy the night!”

“I want to-“

“Your fiancé won’t let you drink with me? Is that the issue here?”

“No,” I bite. “I am taking you back-“

“I,” Harry sits up and hovers over me. “I am not speaking to you until you drink! Good god woman, lean back! Relax! What do Americans say take a chill pill?”

“I don’t need a chill pill.”

Harry mimes zipping his lips closed.

I roll my eyes and bring the champagne to my lips to take a mock sip but he must anticipate this. Using his finger he tips the glass even further. Half of it drips down my chin.

“Agh!” I jerk the glass away but Harry just laughs. “This is so not funny.”

He leans in smiling. I expect him to stop but he continues moving into me until his lips are on my jaw. His mouth coasts over my skin before he buries his head in my neck where the champagne had dripped down leaving a pool of heat-

“Harry!” I jerk away and push my hands into his chest to prop him up. His eyes are half-closed but as intense as ever as he looks into mine.

What the fuck. What the fuck just happened.

My hands are shaking, steady only because of the force of Harry pressing into them. I feel the tears springing to my eyes, why the fuck did he just…

“Sorry,” he smiles, his finger brushing my cheek. “Y’had some champagne there.”

It was nothing, I tell myself. He’s drunk and taken god knows what. He’s out of his mind. And he was going for the champagne, not me.

I loosen my arms but he comes back towards me again.

“Fuck this,” I mutter. I push him back into the sofa and get up. “We are going back to the hotel. Now.”

“Just stay a little longer here. It’s life. I’m bloody famous!” His hands come around my waist to pull me towards him but I dig my heel in.

I grab him by the shirt and haul his lanky body up, it’s like lifting a slab of marble. We nearly fall into the table but I catch us on my back leg in time.

I get us outside and call a taxi. Harry sways into me and I help keep him up.

“S’cold,” he complains.

“It’s really not.” I look back to him but he doesn’t look good. I lean him against the wall gently. “Harry look at me.”

He eyes stay closed but his head bobbles and he starts to tip forward again.

“Harry!” I nearly slap him. Instead I push him against the wall and use my body to keep him propped upright. I grab his face in my hands. “Harry look at me you’re scaring me.”

“You’re scaring me,” he slurs.

I shake his face a bit and try to pry open an eye which makes him laugh.

“I was alone,” he mumbles.

“I am not carrying you into or out of that car so you better stay conscious.” I tap his cheek.

“You’re no fun.” He says and I ignore him. “I was alone but you came.”

“Not out of any choice,” I mumble.

Our taxi arrives and I’m shaking him every few minutes to keep him conscious. At the hotel I get some help to his room when they recognize his face.

I drop him in bed with a sigh of relief. He looked pathetic like that. And I wanted to cry out of frustration.

I take his shoes off and then his shirt, deciding to keep his trousers on. I leave a bottle of water on his bedside with painkillers and head to the bathroom. For the second time tonight I get ready for bed.

I scrub the sticky champagne out of my neck and block out the feeling of his lips on me. Block out the confusing feelings that arose.

I grab my phone and pray for a text from Gray but there’s nothing. I update Jeff and he sends me a thumbs up. All that and just a fucking thumbs up.

***

Still no text from Gray the next morning.

Harry’s still in bed when I get up. I crack on and order both of us breakfast, ordering the most expensive things just to get something out of being here.

Harry wakes to the smell of coffee, groaning as soon as he sits up. I don’t know what he took last night but it serves him right.

“Y/n?” He sounds just as confused as last night.

“In the flesh,” I nearly growl.

“I thought Riley’s s’pose to be here?”

“So you do remember I’m supposed to be off all weekend.” I can’t hold back on the sass. I’m too mad at everyone.

“Yeah…what?”

“Riley quit.”

“Riley…quit? That’s why you’re here?”

“No.” I want to throw my cup of coffee in his face. “I’m here because you weren’t answering your phone last night and the only updates we were getting were compromising pictures of you absolutely pissed.”

“You sound like my publicist.”

“Your publicist had to pay the photographer off.”

“It couldn’t be that bad,” Harry swings his legs over the side of the bed and winces. He notices the painkillers and pops them. “Did you undress me?”

I pull the photos up on my phone and show them to him. He throws the phone down on the bed after a glance.

“Okay so he sent you to get me back to the hotel?”

“Jeff called me.”

“Jeff’s on holiday.”

“So was I.” My anger brews over. “I had 2 fucking days off Harry and I couldn’t even get that! You had to go to Vienna and get pappd doing the stupidest shit and of course I have to come in and save your ass because I can’t get any time these days to just be!”

He groans as he gets up and shuffles towards me. My heart picks up speed but he simply reaches for the coffee and takes a big gulp. The silence stretches out after my outburst and I wait with an anxious anger for what comes out of his mouth.

“You didn’t have to come. I could have lived with the consequences of being an idiot last night-“

“Jeff didn’t give me a choic-“

“There’s always a choice,” he holds up his finger to my face, hovering an inch from my lips. “Jeff can’t do shite. If he fired you he needs my final say. So again, I didn’t ask you to come here.”

Fuck him, I think. Does he really think I could have said no and gone on with my night? Since it didn’t come out of his mouth, he vanishes any accountability? He’d totally at fault here.

“Secondly,” he wasn’t finished I guess and his eyes are like laser beams into my soul. “It’s Mr. Styles.”

Anything I was about to mouth off on disappears. Like a sinkhole it all collapses below the surface and I’m left feeling as I always did—humiliated.

“Now,” Harry puts his cup down. “That’s not to say thank you for coming to my rescue yesterday. I don’t remember a lot of it so I’m not sure what happened but I’m sure it wasn’t pretty.”

I don’t answer. I bite my tongue until it falls right off and I can swallow it. I wish I could also swallow the memory of his lips that spring to mind.

“It is a Sunday, if you’d like to take it off feel free. The stylist team is coming around 4 to get me ready for tonight.”

“Well, you’ll need me to coordinate this evening since that was the point of Riley being here,” my voice comes out smoother than I felt.

“Ok,” he dismisses me. “I need a shower.”

He leaves and I clench my fists to keep from throwing everything within range at him. How could he flip the script like this? Turn my life upside down and then act like he did nothing wrong?

I go to my phone and hover over Grayson to call him but i have a notification from him. He’s sent me a message, it’s a link.

I click it. It’s a small article in a tabloid about Harry Styles and his mystery woman. You can’t tell it’s me but our pose looks intimate from last night—him leaning against the wall with my knee in between his legs and my body propping him up while my hands hold his face.

But Grayson knows its me.

I get my other phone and message it in the group with Harry’s publicist.

He responds casually: It’ll blow over don’t worry. Can’t see your face plus romantic is better than looking fucked up like the other pics.

It would blow over for Harry but not for me.

I try to call Grayson but he doesn’t pick up.

I close the room door and bury myself in bed, aching so hard it was hard to believe I was still breathing. It felt like an end, I know I could talk it through with Grayson and explain once he saw the other photos. But something feels like it died tonight.

***

“Y/n?” A voice sings outside my door. “Helloo?”

I feel hungover as I open my crusty eyes. I’m in an unfamiliar room and-

“Hello hello?”

I sit up. I was in a hotel suite and I had to help get Harry to his show. Shit.

I look at the time, it’s nearly 5.

“Sorry!” I shout at whoever was behind the door. “Sorry one sec!”

One look in the mirror and I know I had to throw my hair up. I swish some mouthwash around and exit to the lounge.

“Hi,” a woman I’ve never met smiles kindly at me.

“Sorry. Did you need something from me?”

“Yes,” she takes my arm and leads me towards where Harry was getting his hair done. He looks amused as he watches me. “I need you here. We need to get you ready.”

“Oh no,” I say but sit where I’m told by this commanding woman. “Oh I’m just helping coordinate so you just focus on Mr.-“

“Y/n,” Harry’s deep voice cuts me off. “Riley comes with me to these things when Jeff isn’t around. Since neither are here you’re joining me and Graham.”

I look for his publicist but I’m told he was running late. Great.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” I say as the woman takes a wet wipe to my face. “I thought I had Sunday off.”

“You reminded me you’re replacing Riley,” Harry says. “And I got the team to get you a few things but I don’t know your size. I’m sure one of them will fit. Kit can tailor it if you need.”

“Wha…” my face is positioned to the side and cream is dotted all over. I shut my mouth and glance at Harry which becomes a glare when I realize he’s enjoying this.

“Lighten up Y/N, it’s not the end of the world.”

He didn’t know. It was the end of my world.

***

The red carpet or whatever this imitation of it was is a sensory nightmare. Graham had explained on the car over I was to stick to the shadows with him and his security detail. I don’t know why they stuck me in this beautifully tailored pantsuit just to be in the shadows. But apparently I could keep it so I was happy about that.

While Harry gets his name shouted and photos taken I watch from the side, hiding behind Graham’s shoulder so I don’t get caught in any pictures. The flashes still make my head hurt.

Again, we stand off to the side as Harry gets interviewed by labels I recognized and others that must be local. One woman has the nerve to ask,

“So Harry the whole internet is dying to know who your mystery woman is. Would you like to give our viewers a hint?”

I stiffen and Graham glances my way with a warning look. He’d already prepped Harry in the car but I couldn’t believe someone would be so bold as to ask. But that was show business.

“Ah you know what the media’s like, all out of context. I love the theories especially the one about this being my secret fiancé but I would like the viewers to know I’m not engaged, very much single, and not to believe everything you see online.”

I hold my breath as Harry answers but he’s a natural, I had to admit. He went off script a little—he wasn’t supposed to acknowledge the content of the photo, but he did so with grace and humour. Wow. I could learn a few things.

Graham relaxes beside me once the reporter laughs and asks if he sees himself not being single any time soon. When we finally move on Graham wraps his arm around Harry’s shoulder and gives it a shake.

“You did good kid,” he kisses his cheek with all the leftover adrenaline from the carpet. “I’ll see you in there. I see some friends I want to catch up with first.”

Then it’s just Harry and I, and his shadow of a security detail who Harry dismisses while he’s inside the room.

“So I guess now’s the part you go to your seat?” I ask. There was no What to do at an Awards Show so I was clueless and I decided I would create one myself to keep the legacy of all these dos and don’ts.

“It is,” Harry looks…nervous? His eyes flicker around the room and his jaw twitches. I do a sweep of my own, there’s a lot of people I don’t recognize and those I do I’m just about dying trying to stay casual.

“I thought that reporter was going to propose after you cleared up how single you were.”

“Hm?” Harry looks at me—in heels I was finally near eye-level to him. His gaze clears as he takes in what I said and I consider it a win getting him back down to earth. “Oh. Her, yeah she was cheeky with those questions wasn’t she?”

His smile makes me stomach dip. “Yeah she slipped them in so expertly. I thought ‘I have to take some tips from her’. And you, you were good dodging the question.”

“I didn’t lie,” Harry’s now fully engaged in our conversation. I give myself a pat on the back. “It was just you and I am still single.”

Just you. I fake a laugh, “Yeah. That photo is proof that I’m stronger than I look because you were deadweight and I managed to get you to bed y’know that.”

His green eyes flicker up and down my face for a beat. “I know that. I…hope that picture didn’t get you into any trouble.”

I look away, unsure how to answer. He brings a hand to my arm. “I can talk to someone if it helps?”

“Oh no,” my cheeks flush. “No I don’t think that would make anything better but thank you. I…appreciate the-“

“Harry? Oh my god it’s you!”

I retreat in a quarter of a second, invisible once again for Harry to shine with his colleagues. It’s a singer I recognize but I only remember her stage name, Dragon something. I watch them embrace and I try to wind up the spool of thread I’d released when Harry showed some kindness.

I think I had some issues, I became unrecognizable every time Harry was nice for a moment. I had to remember that it was temporary and there were boundaries I couldn’t cross.

Yesterday flashes into my mind. God, was it just yesterday?

Harry starts walking with the other musician arm in arm. It comes to me as I follow why I knew her. There were rumours shortly before I interviewed with Harry about seeing him on the town with this woman. So they had history. Of course.

By the time Graham joins me in our seats I’ve become part of the wallpaper and I feel like I’m being torn away when he acknowledges me to ask if everything had gone ok. I stay invisible for the rest of the evening and I try to remember that’s how it would be.

***

We’re sat on the tarmac for the ride home and I try to refresh my messages over and over but Gray hasn’t responded after I’d told him we had to talk. He was stupidly good at the cold shoulder and I felt like a needy bitch whenever he got like this.

“Could I get a water y/n?” Harry asks from across the aisle. He has his head tipped back and he looks awful—consequences of an after party where he drank himself silly again and relied on me to get him home. I did make friends with some other PAs who were roped to the party so that was the only highlight.

“Sure.” I go to the front of the jet where Graham is typing away on his laptop, oblivious to the rest of us. I grab Harry a coffee too. “It’ll help with the hangover.”

Harry accepts it graciously and I go back to refreshing my phone.

I thought he’d fallen asleep an hour into the flight until he unbuckles his seat and slips in beside me.

“Can I get your phone?” He holds his hand out.

“Why?” I ask suspiciously.

“You’re driving me crazy refreshing that thing it’s like you’re getting paid per refresh.”

I was lost in a trance doing it. I put the phone facedown on my lap but he takes it from me.

“Hey-“

“I’m keeping this until we land. I promise you if you haven’t gotten any messages by now you won’t get any at all.”

His patronizing tone wriggles something loose and I have to look away, out the window, so he doesn’t see the tears.

“My offer still stands,” he says quietly after my silence. I shake my head.

“Thanks,” my voice wavers. “It won’t help. He just gets…quiet. Any time there’s an issue he just goes quiet and it drives me f…crazy. I feel crazy.”

“You kind of look it.” I’m ready to throw him a dirty look but Harry’s smiling when I look at him. I was rarely on the receiving end of such a handsome look that I forget I was going to be mad. “What? You do, hunched over your phone pressing down over and over. My neck hurts just looking at you.”

I sigh and leans back into the seat, trying to straighten myself out.

“Sorry,” I sniffle. “I just need some sort of proof of life from him. He knows it drives me crazy when he ignores me but he does it anyway. He could be dead for all I know. Anyway, I’ll stop now you can give me my phone back.”

“Mmm no,” Harry pats the pocket he put it in. “You listen to me. It stays here.”

I don’t fight him. It was for my own good.

He sits with me for the rest of the flight. It should be uncomfortable but having another person’s presence beside me—knowing there was a shoulder pressing against mine, makes me feel a little less lonely today.

He probably didn’t intend that, I rethink the thought. Harry wasn’t thoughtful like that, he was probably just too lazy to move back.

We take the car home when we land but Harry tells me to take the rest of the Monday off even though it was already 2.

“And y/n,” Harry stops me before I exit the car where it stalls outside my complex.

“Yes?” I wait for the other shoe to drop—I had the day off but…

“If he knows it drives you crazy, and he truly loves you, he should respect you and give you a chance to talk. You deserve that.”

My breath catches at the unexpected words. I feel my defences go up.

“You’ll work it out,” he rushes on when I don’t respond.

I’m left feeling slightly reassured and mostly confused.

“Thank you,” I look at him a beat too long and it feels awkward so I scramble out and head up. To someone I hope was willing to listen like Harry said.

***

Like a baby calf out of the womb, my relationship stays on shaky grounds. It feels like building a foundation all over again after thinking that was already done with, but Hurricane Harry had caused a lot of damage.

Now 9 months into my new job I wasn’t always so on edge. But I was busy.

With no Riley, the team had decided to hold off on hiring anyone new and my work load had tripled. I’d brought it up casually and just as casually Harry had let me know I would be compensated.

I thought about Vienna a lot. Things were done and said there that should change our dynamic but didn’t. Not much. Harry was still an ass, he still demanded most of my time, and I still suffered from major anxiety about my life falling apart.

So maybe I was still on edge, just about different things.

“G’morning,” Gray whispers to me. I wanted to sleep in and cuddle with my fiancé but I’d already snoozed my alarm and I knew I had to get to work. I had errands to run all over town.

“Morning,” I burrow my head into his warm body. “I don’t wanna work.”

He kisses the top of my head. “How about I join you on some of those errands you mentioned? We can get coffee?”

I’m suddenly excited about going to work.

Gray laughs when I climb over him and kiss him like a lunatic, and we’ve been together too long to be embarrassed about morning breath or pillow face. I can’t believe I almost lost him.

The day is perfect as Gray and I move around town doing odd bits. We get to grab lunch together and I’m so glad what a good sport Gray had been about it all since I’d forced him to carry any heavy items.

“I’ll see you for dinner,” Gray drops me off at Harry’s. We linger in the lobby for a few minutes. “I’m cooking.”

“Mmm can’t wait,” I kiss him before taking the load from him. “Thank you for coming with me today.”

“I had fun, I hate to admit it.” He grins as I walk backwards to the elevator. He takes my breath away.

Grayson’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth to say something but I collide into a body behind me before he can warn me.

“Oh shit sorry I-“ I turn and Harry stands behind me with Jeff walking off the elevator. He was probably headed to the studio and I was late. Dammnit!

“Y/N,” Harry says.

“I’m so. Sorry,” I look between Gray, Jeff, and Harry. Do I introduce everyone? Do I apologize and rush to drop these things off so I could join them like I’m supposed to?

Jeff makes it easy, walking away on his phone. Then it’s Harry and Gray.

“I’m sorry I meant to be upstairs five minutes ago.” I tell Harry who’s expression is hard to read. “Uhm…this is Grayson my fiance I don’t think y’all have met he was just dropping me off since I had my hands full. Um. Gray this is…well you know who this is I-“

My blabbering is cut short as Harry steps forward to shake hands and I nearly die at the steely look Gray gives him. Also, why the fuck did I say y’all?! I wasn’t even southern.

“Grayson Duran yeah? Nice to meet you,” Harry says. I’m surprised he knows his full name. He must have asked his friends.

“Yeah,” Gray drops his hand. “The infamous Harry Styles—I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Likewise,” Harry says, glancing at me. Why would he say that. “As much as I’d love to chat, y/n you’re late and we’re heading to the studio. Can you give all that to the concierge?”

“Yes,” I nod. “Have you got-“

“I grabbed my things yes. I’ll see you in the car.”

Harry nods to Gray and leaves an air of cologne and annoyance behind. Gray and I lock eyes and I burn with embarrassment.

“What a dick,” Gray mumbles.

I’m offended, wait, why am I offended? It’s not like Harry wasn’t a dick.

“Yeah, I gotta go sorry babe.” I rush to the concierge and explain the delivery.

“Y’all?” Gray asks when I rush back to him.

“I know I know,” I cringe. “It just came out. I gotta go but thank you so much for today. Loveyoubye!”

I give him a quick peck and rush out, nearly collapsing into Harry’s car.

“Sorry about that, being late. That won’t happen again I meant to be there before you left-“

“As long as it doesn’t happen again,” Harry says stiffly, staring out the window. He was a dick, Gray was right. But why was I so offended at him saying that right after meeting him?

Things felt so confusing these days and I just wanted time to catch my breath and figure things out. A few more weeks and I’d get some time off for the holidays at least, I was looking forward to that.

***

Even though I planned the intimate holiday party and spent countless hours on the phone making sure every detail would be perfect I can’t help but criticize it as I join.

“Maybe I should have gone with a live band,” I mutter as someone takes mine and Grayson’s coats. Tonight I was supposed to shut my brain off as Harry said, and enjoy the party as a guest. But that part was hard to shut off after nearly 10 months of re-wiring it.

Grayson was tough to convince but finally he’d agreed to come to the party. Things were mostly back to normal with us. I tried to be home by 7 most nights and didn’t talk about work too much.

But sometimes it felt like a volcano lived inside me with how much I had to compartmentalize and keep in and when times got really tough, I wanted to spew everywhere.

“Josie told me your mom’s doing bohemian Christmas?” I ask Gray as we hover by the foyer. I’d just had a catchup with her yesterday now that she was finished exams. “Do you know what that means.”

“Mum’s crazy,” Gray sighs. His relationship with her was always followed by a sigh, an eye roll, a heavy resignation for who she was. I never quite understood it.

Josie, on the other hand, loved their loud and free-spirited mother. As for me, I thought she was the most interesting woman I ever met and we’d gotten along instantly.

“She’s always got some new idea up her sleeve,” I try to make things more positive. “What do you want a bet it’s going to be vegan?”

“I don’t bet when I know that’s what she’s serving. That’s why we do dad’s for lunch and hers for dinner. We’re too stuffed once we get there to care what she’s serving.”

“Remember when I tried to get you to go vegan and-“

“Y/N! Hi,” I’m interrupted by a friendly face in the crowd and end up chatting with people I’d worked with the last few months. We introduce our partners and they chat but I keep an eye on Grayson, in case anything changes.

I watch Harry’s friends trickle in and Gray lights up when he sees Liam and a few other people he trained.

I flit around the room with ease after that, knowing Gray had friends to keep him company. I make sure drinks are filled and catering is setting up. Until a hand stops me.

“You’re not supposed to be working tonight,” Harry reminds me.

“Yes. Right. Well…”

“Y/N,” he warns.

“Okay!” I throw my hands up. “Not working, here look I’m enjoying myself!”

I pick up a random drink and take a big sip. Champagne. Suddenly I remember the last time I drank champagne in front of Harry and I nearly cough it back up.

“Ugh,” Harry hands me a napkin and I try not to bristle. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I clear my throat. “Yeah sorry just…just not a fan of champagne.”

We lock eyes and I’m gripped with the sudden and very real possibility that Harry may actually remember parts of that night.

When his eyes flicker down to my neck, it’s confirmed. Oh god.

“Well! I’m off to find a better drink!” I turn too quickly, nearly taking out the caterer who was setting up hors d’œuvres on the table. “Sorry!”

Oh my god. Harry remembered.

Did he remember this whole time? Was he pretending to forget that night? Did he ever remember the moment randomly in my presence like I did?

I had to stop freaking out. It had been months!

Where was Grayson.

I locate my fiancé in a random group but his eyes are already on me. I raise a hand and he smiles, raising a finger to tell me he’d be there in a moment.

My mind races in the meantime, wondering if I should mention the incident to Harry and tell him I was fine. Or maybe that proved the opposite. No. I should just keep it unspoken like we had this whole time. Oh my god!

“Quite a turnout,” Grayson comes back to me. Two drinks in his hand. “I saw you talking to Harry why did you look so scared? Did he say something?”

“Oh!” Of course Gray saw. “No. I just…almost choked on my champagne the fizz y’know? And then I didn’t want to make a scene so I left.”

“Hm,” Gray wraps his hand around my waist. “Hey I see a mistletoe I’m going to nudge you in that direction.”

“You don’t need a mistletoe to kiss me babe.”

“It’s supposed to be romantic.”

I let him lead me to it and he kisses me with a knee-bending passion.

“Woah,” I feel dazed when we finally part. “That was fucking romantic.”

“Yeah?” He grins.

“Excuse me!” Harry’s voice rings over the crowd and the room hushes slowly. “Uh hiya! Thank you all for coming tonight and making me feel like I have friends during the holidays.”

A quiet laugh rumbles over the crowd. Harry looks magnetic on his makeshift podium, he’s in a cozy red sweater that I know cost more than my month’s salary and a collar peeks out from under it. He’s got on navy slacks and tinsel thrown over his shoulder. I’d bought that sweater, I remember. But he managed to pull the rest of the outfit together well.

“…a few people.” He continues. I’d zoned out. “My manager Jeff of course—this year has been a roller coaster and you’ve managed it all. Charlie, Claire, Niji, Elin, Sarah, and Mitch. We had a ball playing our hidden shows this fall but we have so much planned for the year ahead. I’m beyond grateful that you all came into my life and we get to make music together!”

A few whoops in the crowd and the people he mention raise their hands and shout out their own praises to Harry.

Harry thanks a few more people and says some more kind words. I don’t expect him to zero in on me.

“Last, but not least folks, I want to thank somebody who joined my team this year. She’s seen a lot—she’s been in the trenches my friends, she has. But she’s stuck with me. She’s planned everything tonight so really you’re all here because of her. Y/N, please make yourself known and everyone should give her a thank you if you talk to her tonight for tonight.”

Oh god. I am as bright as Harry’s sweater and with every single eye turning on me I’m sure I also turn every shade of the rainbow. I paste on a grin that feels like I’m the Joker and hope it looks normal.

I wave awkwardly and make eyes with Harry across the room who looks like he’s having a ball putting me in the centre of everyone’s attention. I was really going to wring his neck but he winks at me and finally turns the attention back to him with a few closing words, then starting the music and food.

“Am I alive?” I ask Gray beside me whose hand had dropped from my waist during the last few minutes. “I think I died of embarrassment and turned into the ghost of Christmas’ present.”

I turn to Gray and he looks around me. “Hello? Is someone talking to me?”

“Gray!” I push his shoulder and he laughs. “I hated every second of that.”

“I know,” Gray laughs again. “You hate attention.”

“I do! I swear Harry was up there gloating didn’t you notice? Ugh I hate him.”

Gray’s expression shutters for a second. “Yeah, he definitely knew what he was doing.”

“Y/N, quite a shoutout.” A voice says from my right. It’s Liam who I hadn’t seen myself in ages. I go in for a hug and hope my embarrassment clears away as we catch up.

As the night goes on I ease up a little, enjoy the mingling and the drinks. Especially the drinks. The evening’s embarrassment and everyone coming up to me knowing my name was hell so I drink to keep up the liquid courage.

Coming out of the toilets for the tenth time that night with all the drinks I was downing, I notice a light on in the room.

I go to it, in case it was a guest in a place they shouldn’t be.

I don’t spot him at first, flicking off the lights only to see a shadow move. Harry.

“Oh! It’s you. Is everything alright?” I lean in the doorway. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in this office actually. He always hovered outside it like I was now.

“Yeah yeah, just came for some air.” He walks up to me and I step out of the way so he can leave. But he stays just inside so I move back to my spot.

“Air? In the smallest room here?”

“Yeah,” he smiles like he’s been caught. “I was looking for you. We ran out of ice I just don’t remember where you stored the rest.”

“Well I’m not working remember? So I don’t know.”

“Touché. I guess the guests will just have a shite time with their lukewarm drinks.”

Ugh. He knew me too well.

“Fine. I’ll get the bag. By the way, that wasn’t funny. What you did earlier.” I put my hands on my hips, ready to give him a piece of my mind for embarrassing me.

“What!? It wasn’t meant to be funny. I’m expressing my gratitude y/n.”

“In front of a whole room of random people who are all looking at me? You know I would have hated it!”

“Let’s just say I’m trying to get you out of your shell,” Harry teases. He smells of his usual cologne, the fresh soap he used, and scotch. I spot the empty glass on my desk.

“I’m plenty out of my shell thank you. You know, you could have just said it to me privately. That would have meant more.”

His mouth opens but nothing comes out. He inhales sharply and turns around.

“What?” I ask his back.

“Nothing.” He turns back around. “You do good work y/n, people should know.”

Now it’s my turn to go quiet. I only seemed to do this when Harry was nice. Because otherwise I knew how mean he could be. Why couldn’t there just be a balance.

“Why are you so randomly nice to me?”

Oops. All those drinks made for some loose lips.

“What?” He’s taken aback.

“Yeah,” I feel fired up now that it’s out. “You ignore me half the time—not that I expect to be bffs but at least a hello now and then would be nice. Then when you do talk it’s grunts and clipped answers. You’re pretty mean to me! And suddenly out of nowhere it’s like-like this 180 and you’re really nice. And praising me in front of a crowd. What’s up with that?”

His expression retreats the more I talk and I know I’ve dug myself into a hole. Forget the whole speech just now I’m pretty sure I’ve just written my own termination notice.

“I have to be,” he says simply after an awkward pause.

“Have to?” I demand. “You have to be mean to me?”

The long deleted Dos and Dont list when I first joined flashes through my mind. Did that have something to do with it?

“Because when I spoke to Riley that one time for drinks, he told me you weren’t always this mean. So is it me? You just said to a whole crowd how helpful I am so I just don’t get why you’re so mean sometimes!”

“What else did Riley say?” Harry hangs on to that.

“I…a lot I dunno! Riley faffs a lot. He’s also a creep but that’s neither here nor there I-“

“What do you mean he’s a creep?” The room feels even smaller as he zeroes in.

“I-“ I try to stutter something to change the subject but he stays on, asking me again. “It’s nothing. He was drunk and he made a pass at me-“

“He did?! Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s zero space between the two of us now.

“Why would I? It was something that happened outside work hours, plus you warned me and I didn’t listen-“

“Y/n you should have told me,” he swears. “I let that little shite get away with way too much.”

“Yeah well he’s not the only person working here who’s made a drunken pass at me so let’s not make it a big deal okay?”

I guess I wasn’t holding back.

Harry closes his eyes and breathes through his nose. One mississippi two mississippi three-

“You’re right.”

My heart pounds in my chest. I want to get out of this room, find Gray, and stay in the light. Because this small, dimly lit space was becoming too intimate. And yet, I can’t seem to will myself to move.

“I am?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. It doesn’t cut it—what I did was incredibly wrong. Being drunk shouldn’t be an excuse and I promise I don’t go around doing that to everyone-“

“I know,” I say before thinking. It was weird of Harry to do but I never felt unsafe with him. I understood what he was trying to say.

“You can make it a big deal if you want. It shouldn’t have happened. It won’t happen again.”

I feel weird having the roles reversed—Harry apologizing to me. Promising not to do something again. I recognize what he’s doing is right but I don’t know what to do with myself. My breathing’s shallow with Harry so close to me, practically hovering over me. I should’ve worn higher heels to really equal the field.

“Thanks,” I finally manage. It’s low and raspy and I barely get in enough air to speak it. He doesn’t respond.

We stay in the tableau, our breathing irregular, in between a single decision that both of us knew wouldn’t end well. Yet neither of us are strong enough to end the frozen display.

“You clean up nice,” he says, eyes never leaving mine as he compliments my getup. I’d worn a simple cowl-necked slip dress and strappy shoes with my hair in an up-do. I was definitely underdressed after seeing the other guests but I believe Harry means it.

“Don’t look as haggard as I usually do, you mean?” I find my voice again. I barely have to whisper for him to hear.

“You never look haggard,” Harry says as he brings his hand up and traces the curve of my dress strap. My heartbeat was loud and surely showing through my dress.

“You should go,” Harry adds in a whisper.

My head feels like it’s filled with carbonation as I nod in agreement. This was bad. With a capital B. I had to go.

“I…should go.” I repeat. Slowly I inch sideways on the wall and Harry leans away. We stare at each other for another long moment before I scurry away, my heart in my throat and my guilt where my heart should be.

“Don’t forget the ice,” I hear Harry call out from the room. Miraculously this is exactly when Grayson turns the corner.

“Y/n? Where were you?”

“Oh I-“ I imagined I looked fucked up. Because I felt high and out of my mind. The white lie comes out, attached to a thread that unstitches something within. “I drank too much, so I was in the toilet.”

“Oh,” Gray looks relieved and I’m sinking with guilt. Technically I did nothing wrong. I didn’t even have feelings for Harry. But whatever physical magnetism he seemed to have nearly made me do something I’d seriously regret. “Did I hear someone say something about ice?”

“Yeah!” I laugh and it comes out like I had never learned how. “I just bumped into Harry, we ran out of ice. So much for not working huh?”

“At least everyone knows how hard you work,” he jokes.

I stick to Gray’s side for the rest of the night, not touching a single drop of alcohol. I had to forget everything in that room ever happened if I wanted to keep my job and my sanity. I had to be a better person, the devil was handsome and I had to stop playing into his tricks.

I call it quits a few hours later when I notice Gray low on energy.

“I’ll get our coats,” I tell him. The relief on his face is palpable.

I go through where the spare closet was but hear voices in Harry’s darkened room. The door’s open so I go to investigate. I regret it instantly.

Harry’s inside with a woman, I don’t see much of her as she’s on the bed but I know it’s Harry with the tone of his voice as they exchange words.

My stomach drops and it’s like an accident on the side of the road, I’m mortified but I can’t look away.

I watch him kiss her and I feel like I’m sinking through the floorboards.

“Oh!” The woman notices me when she turns her head and pulls the sheet up. She whispers, “you didn’t close the-“

“Oh it’s fine,” Harry laughs. He sits back on his legs and looks at me, his expression void of anything he was tonight. Like the moment in the room didn’t even happen. “It’s just y/n.”

Of course it didn’t matter to him, I scold myself. I was the one with fucked up issues that couldn’t make up my stupid mind about how I wanted to feel about this man who literally paid me to be around. Who treated me like shit most of the time. Who was nice to me sometimes and I misconstrued it to mean a whole lot more.

What was I thinking? Did I think suddenly this man who’s known to be a player had a single one-sided intense moment with me and that would change him?

I was an absolute idiot.

“Could you get the door?” Harry asks so casually, so nonchalantly, that it punches me in the chest. It was closer to some combination of humiliation and self-inflicted hurt but for now it feels like my chest aches.

“O-of course.” I shut the door and stand there, taking in deep breaths as I try not to think about everything that just happened. Tried not to think of all the million ways I was the worst girlfriend in the world. Tried not to think about the fact that I had to quit sooner than later because things were getting tangled up and it was not okay.

xxxxxxxxxx

TAGLIST: @boomitsallie1 @indierockgirrl @ndunad @jerseygirlinca @sunshinemoonsposts @ninasw0rld

I’m trying to make part 3 the last—it includes your final decisions and returning to the present to find out what happens (from the beginning of the story). Thank you, as always, for reading <3 xx

#harry styles fic #writingsfromhome #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles imagine #harry styles #fic #harry styles angst #harry styles series #musician!harry #slow burn

162 notes · View notes

sturnrm · 2 months

Note

I’m literally sending this to everyone I need to read this fic idea

So it’s where Matt and reader are bestfriends and reader has a date but has never kissed anyone before so Matt says practice on him then it semi escalates (smut or no smut idm) and reader cancels her date for Matt ???

~ ITS JUST A KISS ~

Matt sturniolo x bsf!reader

Warnings: swearing, kissing, ass gabbing, grinding, mentions of sex

I was at the triplets house sat on matts bedroom floor on my phone, matt was playing Fortnite and Chris and Nick had gone to get food.

I was messaging this boy who I had met at top golf a few weeks back and I was going on a date tonight with him but I hadn’t told Matt yet, although matts my bestfriend he is very protective with who I see and who I don’t and apparently ‘he just doesn’t wanna see me get hurt’ which is sweet yes but it has resulted in me being a virgin and never kissed a boy.

“FUCK” Matt screamed slamming his fist into the keyboard

“You lost again?” I asked

“Yes smart ass” he rolled his eyes at me.

I mocked him by mouthing what he last said and pulling a face.

“You wanna watch a movie and get doordash” he asks me switching his monitor off.

“I can’t today” I say biting my lip already knowing his response to going on a date

“Why” he furrowed his eyebrows

“I have a date in about 2 hours so I needa get ready” i say smiling holding eye contact with him

“Who”

“The guy from top golf he’s called Jack” I reply

“Alright have fun then” he scoffed, he picked up his phone looking away from me and fixated on his TikTok for you page

I didn’t reply to him I was definitely confused on why he didn’t ask any questions but if I kept my mouth shut I could just enjoy my date.

—————————

I had gone home to get ready and my date was picking me up in about 30 but I told him to get me from the triplets house since I wanted matts opinion on the dress.

I walked up to his room he was sat on his bed on his phone.

I was wearing a short black dress which was tight at the top but semi flared out at the bottom just barely covering my ass.

“What you think” I say spinning so he could see the whole dress front and back

Matts eyes widen “wow you look good” he smiles he sits up at the edge of the bed

“Thank you” I giggle

“What are you guys doing then” he asked

“Well he’s taking me for food then I’m going back to his to watch a movie” i say straightening the bottom of my dress out looking at myself in the mirror as matts eyes didn’t leave my body

“Here” he turns around grabbing something from his draw and throwing it at me “your gonna want this if your going back to his place” he smirked

I looked at my feet to see he threw a condom “seriously matt I’m not gonna fuck him” I pick it back up throwing it at him

“Why you can tell me allll about it after” he laughs

“Because I’ve never even kissed a boy let alone fucked one and I’m not gonna loose my first virginity to a guy I barely know” i say sorta embarrassed

“WHAT” his eyes widen with a shocked look on his face “okay I understand that you may have never fucked a guy but you haven’t kissed a guy” he asked making me more embarrassed

“Well you always crash my dates” I blame him

“Because the guy your with is always a dick and I don’t wanna see you get hurt”

I roll my eyes

“Well Y/N you better hope your decent at kissing or it’s gonna make things awkward between them” he says

“I don’t know if I’m a good kisser”

“Come here I’ll tell you” he smirks standing up

“What” I say confused

“Your my bestfriend I’m helping you out here, ill help you learn how to kiss them your date will be even better it’s just a kiss” he stepped closer to me “but only if you want my help”

Matt was the one person I trusted with my life and I knew he wouldn’t judge me but was I seriously about to kiss my bestfriend???

I stood there looking up at me not a word left my mouth

“Ive kissed a lot of girls they have told me I’m a good kisser it will be fine think of it as a lesson,a kissing lesson” he said cupping on side of my face with his hand

I didn’t know what to say I just nodded in approval

“Never seen u so submissive before damn” he laughed “but use your words I need you to use your words Y/N”

“kiss me teach me” i stared up at him

He used his other hand to pull my waist closer to him resting it on the lower of my back and pulling me in for the kiss

It was slow but I quickly got the hang of it moving my lips to the rhythm of his as my arms ran up his chest and wrapped around his neck.

I pulled back with my arms still around his neck his still on my waist and cheek

“Your not bad” he said pulling my hand to the bed as he sits down, I’m stood infront of him

“I’m not” I ask

“No but I think you need more practice” he smiles pulling me onto his lap straddling him

He pulled me back in for the kiss this time one of his hand on my waist other on my ass

My hands played in his hair, the kiss was stronger this time more passionate, he lifted the bottom of my dress up and moved his hands to my hips and pushed me down bucking his up feeling his dick against my cunt making me moan lightly

He pulled away smirking, he kissed my neck which sent shivers down my spine.

I could feel his hard dick against my clothes cunt, I knew I shouldn’t have liked it as much as I was but I didn’t want it to stop I wanted more, I needed more.

Matts hand went up my dress on my bare ass squeezing lightly still sucking on my neck, I grinded my hips slowly to feel some sort of friction, “fuck” Matt groaned as he froze squeezing my hips stopping me from moving.

“Don’t do that” he said looking down at my neck “you might wanna cancel your date y/n”

“If I cancel can we continue” I ask

“If we continue it’s gonna escalate” he whispered in my ear, I could literally hear the smirk on his face as he spoke

“Well deal then, I’ll cancel and you fuck me” i smiled, I don’t know why I said that but I was sure as hell being serious

Matt looked at me shocked but with a huge smile on his face “cancel it” he said picking me up and throwing me on the bed.

“I’m pretty sure we’re gonna need this” he laughs picking up the condom that he threw at me earlier.

————

this is pretty bad but leave requests if y’all want me to write something else 😭

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturn #nick sturniolo #sturniolo edit #sturniolo imagine #edit #fanfic #matthew sturniolo #tumblr fyp

235 notes · View notes

tommysversion · 11 months

Text

Beastly: Raider Era Joel Miller x Reader (Part 1)

Summary: you live in a small commune protected by a strong force of raiders. Every season, your people pay tribute for their protection. After lapsing in payment, your abusive father offers you as a human sacrifice. What you don't expect is for the leader of the gang, Joel, to not be as much of a beastly man as first thought.

A Raider Era Joel fic, loosely inspired by Beauty & The Beast.

CWs: references to abuse (physical), implied fear of SA, canon typical violence, implied age gap, sexual references, coarse language, smut for later chapters. (List will update with chapters)

Chapter Word Count: 3k

Thanks to @gab-thelamb-onthemoon & @joelsgirl for being beta readers & allowing me to infodump about this idea, ILY

Index: Part 2

It’s amazing, how long it took society to peak, in comparison to how easily it fell apart. Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it sure burned in one. In a short fifteen years, since Cordyceps first spread globally, society has all but collapsed.

Oh, sure, there are the QZs, where FEDRA rules with an iron fist. There are smaller settlements where people try to strive for a semblance of ‘normality’.

But mostly? The world outside the military strict QZs has become lawless. It’s kill or be killed, serve or rule, protect or intimidate.

Whereas some people have banded together for the greater good of humanity, for the continued survival of the species? Others have taken advantage of the new order of things, are only out for themselves and those they hold dear.

Joel Miller falls into the latter category.

Maybe once, before the outbreak, he had been a good man. Had had a strong moral compass, a good ethic. He’d been a family man, loved his daughter and his brother more than anything or anyone in the world.

Then the world had gone to hell, taken his daughter from him, and something inside him had broken. It was as though a light had gone out inside him, turning his humanity off.

Gone was the man who had made jokes and smiled easily. In his place was a man scarred and traumatised, who was capable of enormous acts of violence and brutality, who would survive at any and all cost, not for his sake, not really, but for his brother. The only family he had left.

Joel had always been a natural leader, if somewhat reluctant. It had come easily to him, before the outbreak. He was always the damn union rep on site. Always the one people came to for advice, looked to for leadership. Not just Tommy, or colleagues he’d known for years either. He always ended up with an apprentice following him round like a chained puppy, asking questions, looking for guidance.

Maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise at all that he had ended up the leader of this band of people, either. Some were misfits, those who were too anxious to try and venture to the nearest QZ and survive under FEDRA. Some were miscreants who preferred the more lawless lifestyle, who needed a leader so they didn’t venture into abject cruelty. Then there were those like him, who just wanted to survive. Keep going for whatever or whoever they had left.

Joel didn’t necessarily want to live, but he was fucking good at it.

Without his humanity, it made him a damn good leader. His group protected several small settlements, in exchange for supplies. Weapons. Whatever the fuck they wanted.

It was a good deal… for his people. The infected didn’t venture this far out anymore, but the good people in those settlements didn’t need to know that, did they? Their living in fear was his bonus. It kept them in line, and it kept his people alive.

Recently, one of the settlements fell to disease. Leaving just the one small community under his group’s thumb. The occupants aren’t particularly tough, or particularly smart, just ordinary people who have had the luck to survive behind moderately well constructed walls, the wits to bow to those stronger than them for protection.

Only, their resources are running out, spread thin with the approaching winter…

Which is where you come in.

You’re old enough to remember the world before. Maybe you hadn’t been an adult, so you hadn’t had to deal with things the older folks in your community grumble on occasion about missing - work, taxes (mostly something called a tax return), good liquor, supermarkets…

But you do remember.

You remember the world changing overnight. Remember years of struggling, clawing for survival, until this commune had finally put its walls up and hoped for the best.

Then the infected had come, and you’d lost half your numbers. The raiders had taken advantage of the weakness in your people, taken out the infected… for a price.

Now each quarter, your people paid ‘tribute’ to the group of men and women who kept the infected at bay. Really, it was a bribe to keep them from taking over your settlement. Every three months the same half dozen men would show up, fill their truck with supplies and weapons your people had gathered, desperately needed, and promise another three months protection for it.

Nobody’s been attacked since the deal was struck. You guess that’s a good thing. Or there’s something they aren’t telling you.

Your father is the closest thing to a mayor your community has. There aren’t enough of you to need a proper governing body beyond a handful of people, but somehow the task of leadership has fallen to him. Perhaps because nobody else wants to be labeled as the one who bows to the raiders. Or maybe it’s because the last mayor your town had was beaten to death by said raiders for non-compliance, and your father was the only one brave (stupid) enough to volunteer for the job after.

You aren’t stupid. You know a bribe for what it is. Only this quarter, you aren’t sure what the plan is.

The crop yield has been relatively scarce this season. With winter approaching, the settlement doesn’t have much to offer. You’re not stupid, but you know it won’t be enough.

Usually, you stay home when the raiders come for their tribute. Stay inside with the few children of the commune.

This time is different. Your father is lacing his boots, throwing on his threadbare coat, when he springs it on you.

“You’re coming too, this time. We need to show our numbers.”

It doesn’t occur to you until you’re halfway to what passes as the town square that that’s the precise opposite of what your father usually says. That a show of strength is what got his predecessor killed. But you know better than to question him; he won’t shout at you, he’ll just be condescending, or more likely, won’t answer you at all.

You suppose your curiosity will have to wait, and hope he doesn’t get you all killed.

Joel usually sends half a dozen of his people to collect the tribute from the settlement they ‘protect’. It’s a thinly veiled intimidation, closer to extortion than anything else, but it keeps his people fed and lets them bully others, which some of his people need.

But the last two seasons, their offerings have been slim at best, pissing the most restless of his people off. Joel has no issue with violence. No issue with killing people, or intimidation. But he also knows that starting a bloodbath in their supply settlement is a stupid idea, even if some of his men don’t.

Which has led him to here. Two men sit in the truck, shoulder to shoulder. One sits in the tray, gripping the roof bar with one hand, a rifle dangling lazily from the other.

Two others ride beside him, a little behind, in an arrow formation. It didn’t bother Owen to stay behind with the rest of the group. There’s better things he could be doing. If anyone was surprised at Joel deciding to go with them on this run? He hasn’t heard a word of it.

If anything, they probably think it means he’s planning some sort of punishment for their friends in the settlement. Hell, if they don’t pay up? He’s not against it.

It never ceases to amaze him just how pathetic these people are. He hasn’t visited the settlement personally in a year or so, but the occupants are still just as miserable. Just as downtrodden and fearful, hiding behind their shitty tin walls and the hope that his folks will protect them. It’s that fear that keeps his people fed, keeps these townspeople in line.

They don’t need to know that there are so few infected out here now, that Joel and his group are probably the biggest - if not only – threat remaining to them. Fear keeps them in line, and if they step out of line? Well, he and his gang aren’t above beating a reminder into them. It’s happened before.

The truck rolls to a stop behind him as they make their way to the centre of the settlement. He dismounts his horse, steps forward to greet the leader of the place. He’s met this man once before, the season after he took out the old mayor for trying to defy him. Beating a man to death isn’t pleasant to witness, but Joel had no problem with committing the act.

His replacement is a small, round man who always wears the same threadbare overcoat, the same twitchy air of nervousness around him, the same oily obedience.

How a man like that became what passes for mayor, Joel has no idea. He’s just as spineless as the rest, just as cowardly, eager to snivel and beg for protection, offering up whatever it takes to save his own skin. It’s a way to live, Joel supposes, but he would never stoop so low.

“Morris.” Joel greets the other man with a cold nod of his head, reaches out a gloved hand for him to shake. All formality. All pleasantries. As if the six men he’s brought with him aren’t capable of gunning down this entire settlement, if he so chooses. Hell, he could probably do it by himself.

“I’m surprised to see you.” Morris admits as he steps forward from the small group of townsfolk. Joel’s gaze sweeps over them all; a few new faces, his eyes boring into each unfamiliar one. One bears a resemblance to the mayor. Interesting.

His gaze leaves the crowd, returns to the man in front of him.

“We need to have a little chat.”

“You don’t say a word. Nobody will benefit from your attempts at being a diplomat.” Your father cautions you as you reach the centre of town. It’s not a long walk. The settlement is barely big enough to call a commune, but still.

You don’t dignify him with an answer, just nod. There’s no point in trying to argue with him, try and prove that you’re an asset. He’s too set in his ways, too firm in the belief that women – especially young ones- should be seen and not heard.

So instead you keep your mouth shut, take your place. Watch the convoy come in. It’s different, being out on the street rather than peeking out a window when they roll in.

The usual truck, two men in the cab, one in the tray, slapping the roof to signal to stop. You’re not familiar enough with their faces, but you assume they’re the same men who come every quarter. Two men on horses, flanking a third.

It’s the third man who interests you, only slightly. Mostly because of the way your father tenses, the way some of the others shift nervously. You vaguely recognise this man; the leader of the group of raiders. The one who had no problem with violence, with getting rid of the old mayor when he didn’t want to play ball.

He’s older, maybe late forties, broad shouldered and has a sort of deadened glint to his dark eyes. Vaguely, you catch yourself wondering what he did, or what happened to him, to put that look in his gaze.

Those cold dark eyes take stock of the place, sweep across each member of your community. His gaze pauses on you, very briefly, flickers to your father then back, recognition. Then he looks away, back to your father.

“We need to have a little chat,” the unknown man says, “your quota has been low, Morris.”

Even in the cold, you can see your father start to sweat. He’s no great hero; his leadership perches precariously on his willingness to bow to whatever this gang of raiders wants. There’s no way of fighting them, and quite frankly? There are worse things out there.

“We’ve had a hard few seasons… Maybe we can make it up in spring?” Your father suggests, trying to sound complacent, apologetic. Mostly, it just sounds desperate.

You wonder if the leader of the gang thinks so, too.

“Now, Morris, you’re already short. Have been for the last two seasons. Maybe if we’d had this little chat earlier, I’d be more inclined to accept the request, but, well… winter’s on its way. It’s hard out there, and these walls you have are so flimsy… anything could happen.”

Your father’s face blanches, clearly aware he’s stepping on toes that shouldn’t be stepped on.

“We have… some supplies in reserve. You can take from there.”

It shouldn’t even surprise you, that he offers up the town’s emergency stockpile to save his own skin, probably thinking of his predecessor. It bothers you, though, makes your skin crawl to see the men from the gang open the barn where the supplies are kept, start hauling them into the back of the truck. Those supplies are for emergencies. For the children, the elderly, the sick. Maybe that’s why you open your mouth.

“Those supplies are for our elderly. Our children.”

The look your father gives you is piercing, promising violence, a sharp retribution later, but you don’t care.

“Excuse my daughter, Joel. She doesn’t understand the way things work, likes to talk when the men are talking.”

You expect the gang leader – Joel – to agree, to ignore you. Instead, he turns that depthless gaze onto you.

“What would you have me do, hm? We have a deal, you know that.” It’s unspoken what he’s implying – he has people relying on him, too.

You’re smart enough to know that it’s a rhetorical question.

“Besides.” Joel turns his attention to the truck, shakes his head. “Even with your stockpile, you’re short. Considerably so. Maybe we should stick around. See why your productivity is so low.”

The threat is implicit. Maybe it’s the threat. Maybe it’s anger at you for speaking out. Or maybe it’s the simple fact that your father is a piece of shit. Still, you don’t expect what happens next.

Joel doesn’t want to stick around this small town, with its cowed population and snivelling misogynist of a mayor. He’d rather take what they are owed and go, but they’re up short once again. Not by much, but it’s the principle of the matter. Of making sure Morris knows his place, knows that he and Joel are in no way equals.

He projects the very image of an alpha male, broad and cocky, one hand resting on the pistol at his hip. Casually threatening, and he knows Morris is thinking of the idiot before him. Maybe he should just shoot him, see whether someone smarter replaces him. Smarter and less irritating.

Maybe the other man can see how easily he’s contemplating his death.

“Wait. Wait. I have another offer.”

Joel raises an eyebrow.

“And what could you possibly have, Morris? As you’ve said, you’ve had a difficult harvest, you’ve had to break into your emergency supplies. What do you possibly have to trade to save your own skin?” He makes zero effort to hide his disgust.

“Her.” Morris jerks a shaky thumb to the younger woman beside him, the one who’s clearly his daughter, the one who spoke up.

Joel is so startled by the suggestion that he almost outright refuses.

“What?” It comes out blunter than he planned, as if he’s misheard. Because there’s no way that this idiot is offering up his own daughter as some sort of human sacrifice.

“Take her. I don’t care what you do with her, she’s a complete disappointment. Maybe you can teach her some manners, beat her into submission, God knows I’ve tried. Take her and give us immunity until next fall. Let us rebuild our crops.”

Joel looks past Morris to you, small and nondescript. Then again, everyone is small to him. You look like someone’s just pulled the ground out from under you. Shocked. Horrified. He knows then what you’re thinking, what you’re assuming will happen to you. But he also knows now what happens to you if he leaves you here.

Joel Miller may have lost his humanity, but he was a father once. And he can’t imagine ever, ever offering his own child up as a human sacrifice to save his own skin.

And suddenly, it doesn’t matter about making a quota. What matters is getting you as far away from this place as possible. Away from sharp words and balled fists. Because somewhere, somewhere, buried deep down, a portion of the man he once was is stirring.

“The end of next fall. A year.” Joel agrees, tries not to watch the way Morris shoves you forward to what could well be your doom.

You’re shaking. Can’t even form a protest, for all the good it would do.

Sacrifice. Tribute. Offering. As if you’re no more than another object to be traded. Your father doesn’t even flinch as Joel seizes your wrist, pulls you towards his horse.

“Get on.” His voice is low, but not menacing. If anything he sounds almost sorry. It has to be some sort of trap; you’re certain that when you’re back at their base camp, he’ll have no problem with cruelty, with putting his hands on you. Forcing you, if the mood takes him. Maybe it’s better to just do as he demands.

Shakily, you climb up onto the horse, sit awkward and uncomfortable, tensing when he swings himself up behind you, broad arms keeping you in place as he seizes the reins, gives a nod to his men, who finish loading up and pile back into the truck, onto their own horses.

He throws a final derisive look to your father. The man who sold you.

“One year, Morris. Better get your shit together.” Then he nudges the horse, and rides you both out of the only home you’ve known for years.

#my writing #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fic #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #raider joel #rue beastly

520 notes · View notes

bordysbae · 10 months

Note

could you write for Trevor , him one day being super horny in the off season and can’t stop gabbing ur butt until you finally give him what he wants ?

“needy”

trevor zegras x reader

i don’t write smut, but i felt like doing this request. so if you’re looking for smut it’s NOT here, but there is suggestive smut. i honestly dont like writing stuff like this whatsoever, but i liked this requests so don’t get used to many stories like this 😭

🦋 BORDYSBAE’S 500 CELLY!

— ୨୧ —

as you make your way into the kitchen with your laptop in hand, you suddenly feel a gentle smack against your behind. you gasp, “trevor!” trevor let’s out a chuckle, “sorry, had to get your attention somehow. you’ve had your face in that laptop all day,” he shrugs.

“well trev, some of us have to work. just cause you’re on off season doesn’t mean i am too,” you sarcastically grin. you then make your way over to the cabinet and get on your tiptoes. as you struggle to grab the glass towards the back of the cabinet, trevor grabs it from behind you. he hands you the empty glass, but not before grabbing your behind once again.

“trevor stop it!”

“y/nnn please just take a break from work. i’ve been waiting all day,” he groans.

“trevor i have to work, stop being so needy. i’m going back to my desk, you can do whatever you want with yourself,” you joke before leaving trevor helpless in the kitchen.

he leaves you alone for about an hour, but he sneaks in from behind you and starts kissing your neck. your eyes widen, and you try to push him away but he resists. “trevor please, i get off work in two hours. i bet you can wait yeah?”

“no, not really,” he mumbles against your neck. his breath sends shivers down your spine, and as his lips touch your sweet spot, your head falls back. your eyes shut, but you quickly realize you need to be working and strongly push him away.

“trevor please, just a few more hours.”

he groans and begins to leave the room, but you sigh, “i hate you, you know,” you say as you shut your laptop. he turns around with a smirk on his lips, “oh really?”

#bordysbae’s 500 celly #hockey imagine #hockey blurb #trevor zegras blurb #trevor zegras fluff #trevor zegras #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader

530 notes · View notes

pangur-and-grim · 2 years

Text

okay I’m sharing a sample chapter because I think it’s funny, if anyone is mean I will cry real human tears

Chapter 9

I decided to take seducing the mad sorcerer more seriously.

His odd acts of kindness, listening to me gab about my friendship troubles with Glenda, patching my wounds, the dragon scale, it added up. I mean sure, the guy turned me into a vulture, threatened to pull my teeth out, and implanted my chest with some sort of sick torture device…. but……. hmm, maybe this wasn’t a great idea.

Still, I wanted out of this vulture body. He could transmogrify me. All I needed was a path, connecting between those points, a way to ‘make it worth his while’, as it were.

“My lord,” I squawked over breakfast. The mad sorcerer was having thick-sliced bread with jam, and I was having a squirrel that had gotten trapped in the chimney and only just begun to rot. I’d flown it down to the kitchen to eat with the sorcerer, figuring a lonely guy like him would enjoy a social meal.

“My lord,” I repeated, swallowing the scrap of squirrel intestine that dangled from my beak. “I think you should turn me into a woman.”

The mad sorcerer choked on his bread.

After some spluttering and hacking of breadcrumbs, and indecision on my part as to whether I should be smacking his back with a wing, he recovered enough to answer. “Why in the world…...? Also, you are flinging rat…. particles everywhere, from this point onward you are forbidden from eating indoors. Effective immediately,” he added, as I raced to get in one last beakfull.

“It’s a squirrel, my lord.” I said, wiping my beak on the brick oven I perched on. “They have the fluffy tails, that’s how you can tell.”

“Stop that! Stop that!” The sorcerer rose to shoo me off the oven and, confused, I circled the room and landed on a chair.

“Anyway, so the transmogrification, my lord. I figure since the prophecy is clear about bodily sex, I can swap to the other one while still weaselling out of the whole thing. Pretty smart, right?” I finished wiping my beak on my own back feathers, and then raised a talon to scratch an itch beneath my chin.

“’Thick eyelashes for a boy’…. I suppose you’re right.” The sorcerer seemed deep in thought. “And you are rather disgusting as a vulture.”

“Well, no, I groom regularly my lord,” I protested, “Look, there’s this nipple-looking thing at the base of my tail, see? And I get oil from there and smear it all over the place. Keeps me shiny!”

“Stop flaring your feathers, I do not wish to see it. I will use the needle if I have to, obey my instructions.” The sorcerer kneaded his forehead with a hand, his toast lying forgotten on the table. A trio of the small humanoid kitchen constructs had descended on my squirrel, one carting it away and the other two working with brushes to scrub the scraps of red off the brickwork. I decided not to protest.

“I have given you free reign of this stronghold because, lacking opposable thumbs and any possible allies, the damage you could do is minimal. As a human, the situation changes.” The sorcerer had his forehead lined and serious, but the lack of a solid ‘no’ made me giddy. Time for a sales pitch!

“I could cook and clean! And decorate, my lord, this place is pretty drab. That’s not even getting into the other stuff I could do.” I cocked my head in what I hoped to be a significant manner, vultures not having any eyebrows to raise.

“The other stuff? No, no, no I see that look on your face, please don’t answer, I know exactly where this is going.” The sorcerer’s eye flashed, and another little construct emerged to carry away his toast. Disappointment struck – I’d been hoping the sorcerer would eventually exit the kitchen having forgotten it entirely, leaving the crisp bread available for plundering. But back to selling myself.

“No, see my lord, I reckon I could perform se-“

“Shut up, shut up, please stop talking. Alright, I will turn you into a human woman if you agree to one condition.” The mad sorcerer raised a single bony finger.

“Oh, my lord?” Joy and relief unfolded like a flower. “And what’s that?”

“Please stop trying to seduce me.”

#the context is that there's a prophecy about the knight's death #but he looks a specific way in that prophecy. so they're avoiding it through shenanigans #im at 50k words as of today

4K notes · View notes

youvebeenlivingfictional · 1 year

Note

LOVING ‘THE OTHER HALF’! You literally write Bruce so perfectly… lowkey curious to see what would happen if the reader finds out he’s The Batman… 🫣

Previous Part | Masterlist | Next Part

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x Reader

Length: 3.9K

Warnings: Some angst; Bruce Wayne’s Top Notch Communication Skills and secret keeping; canon-typical violence

You’d thought—well, you’d hoped—that as time went on, the questions would go away. You’d hoped that his behavior would make me even more sense.

It hasn’t.

If anything, your perception of Bruce has become incredibly confusing. You enjoy your time with him, no matter what the two of you get up to—dinner, parties with his friends or your friends, a night in. More often than not, it’s a night in. After the incident at work, your boss started sticking you with opening shifts. The commute’s way less cantankerous from Bruce’s place, and you’re happy to spend the nights with him, anyway. You sleep better when he’s there.

The problem is, he’s usually not there.

You always fall asleep with him, but you have awoken on more than one occasion to an empty bed, and an empty penthouse. You’ve texted Bruce on those nights, but his phone has always rung in the apartment. He leaves it sitting on the coffee table. Where the hell does he go without it? Does he have a burner phone? What kind of weird-rich-guy-eyes-wide-shut bullshit is he getting up to that he’s leaving his phone in the apartment for…Hours? You love him, but whatever it is that he’s keeping a secret is beginning to tear your apart.

You want to ask. You have been dying to ask, but it just never feels like the right time.

“You and Brucie have been alright?”

“Oh,” You flounder as Liz nudges your hip with hers, waiting expectantly for your answer. Your hands still over the nibbles that you were putting out on a tray before you resume mechanically loading the spinach puffs that you made. “It’s—Yeah, we’re good.”

“When are you going to move in?”

“What?” You splutter a laugh, unable to help it. “Why would I—Did he say something to you?”

“Oh,” Liz raises her hands in defense. “Sorry. He said you were staying over a lot, you know.”

“I mean, I have. He’s stayed at mine, too. He’s not moving in with me—definitely not moving in with me, Mish would never stand for it,” You taper off in a mumble.

“Mish?”

“My roommate, Michelle.”

“I didn’t know you had a roommate.”

“Mhm!”

“Does she work in a store, too?”

It feels like a loaded question, and it’s one that you would’ve taken as a jab when you first met Liz. But sometimes you realize that Bruce and his friends live so far above the average Gothamite that they don’t know what it's like to have to live from paycheck to paycheck, in narrow, badly lit apartments that most of your paycheck from your cruddy job goes to. You’re determined not to take offense when they make stupid, probably accidental demeaning comments.

“Nope!” You chirp. “She’s an administrative assistant at a marketing agency.”

“Oh! Could you do something like that?”

You smile a touch tightly, your irritation welling. You’re certain that one was on purpose.

“You know what, Liz, I think if I really wanted to, I could do just about anything.”

“Are you two still gabbing in here?”

You glance back at the sound of Bruce’s question, smiling sincerely at the sight of him.

“We’re just catching up, having girl chat. Don’t be such a lurker, Wayne,” Liz scolds. She takes the tray that you’ve organized, shooting you a wink before heading for the living room. You lean back against the counter, crossing your arms over your chest. Bruce reaches out, snagging one of the spinach puffs from Liz as she passes him. You smile as he takes a bite of the morsel, then grunts and shoves the rest of the bite into his mouth, sucking some melted feta off of his thumb.

“Tasty?” You tease.

“Very. Where’d you get the recipe?” He asks through the mouthful before he swallows.

“My mom.”

“Mm. Thank her for me.”

“Sure,” You chuckle.

“What were you two talking about?” Bruce asks, bracing his hands on the counter behind you.

“Nothing. Just…Like Liz said, girl stuff.”

Bruce’s eyes narrow a touch as they wander your face. Then, “She said something about your job again, didn’t she.”

“She kinda did.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll talk to her.”

“It’s alright. If it really starts to bother me, I’ll talk to her about it myself.”

“You sure?”

“I’m positive. But thank you.” You reach up, straightening Bruce’s collar. You go still as you spot the blooming of an angry purple bruise on his skin. You know that it isn’t anything you’ve seen before, that it certainly wasn’t anything you could’ve inflicted. It turns your stomach. What the hell has he been getting up to?

The question sits on your lips, but before you can say a thing, a thud comes from the other room. The sound makes your heart jolt, but you calm when it's chased by raucous laughter. You and Bruce turn your heads toward the sound, and you lower your hand from his shirt, folding your arms against your chest.

“What do you think that was?” Bruce asks.

“I don’t know, but they don’t don't strike me as the type to break out the Twister mat.”

Bruce chuckles before he turns back toward you, his hands resting on your hips. When you don't reach for him in kind, he crowds closer, his smile faltering.

“What is it?” He plies, tipping his head.

“Hm?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” You answer too quickly. You know it by the way Bruce’s frown deepens.

“What’s wrong?” His question has more of a concerned edge to it now.

“Nothing is wrong,” You insist, speaking with a pointed slowness. “I’m just…” You search Bruce’s face, taking in the genuine, concerned expression on his face.

Your questions are all crowding on your lips, threatening to spring forward. Where the hell does Bruce go at night? And how does he know the intimate details of things he oughtn’t? You’ve checked the recording of your interview from the store’s attempted burglary. There was no mention of the route that you and the burglar took to the back office—not from you, and not from the reporter, or your manager. There was no way for Bruce to know where the office was, unless he’d asked your manager—but if he had, she would’ve gushed to you about his speaking with her.

What lie will he use this time? Spelunking, again? Base-jumping, maybe? You search for the words, drawing in a deep breath. You care so deeply for this man, but you can’t trust him.

“I—” You start, then go quiet, raising a hand and scrubbing it over your face, breathing, “Fuck, I can’t do this anymore.”

"Can't do what?" Bruce reaches up, cupping your jaw and tipping your head toward him as worry twists his face. “Hey, look at me. What’s going on?”

“Bruce, I—”

You freeze, stunned as you hear another loud pop in the hall, chased by the thudding of boots, and a yell of, “Get on the ground!”

Before you can even think to react, Bruce draws you close, tugging you toward the island and pulling the two of you down to hide behind the counter, his head resting protectively on your head. Your heart drops into your churning stomach, fingers grasping nervously at him. The two of you listen as the boots thunder past you, down the hall, to where Liz and the others are screaming and panicking. Bruce peers over the counter slowly, looking around before he draws you up. You half-stumble after him with nervous feet, watching as he yanks a kitchen knife out of the holder and opening the pantry. He practically shoves you in, pressing the handle of the knife into your hand and warning, “Keep quiet, stay here.”

“What?” You breathe, “No, nonono, Bruce, don’t—” You wince as he shoves the pantry door shut. You can just see through the slats that he’s running out of the kitchen. You stand trembling in the pantry, both hands wrapped around the knife's handle. You can hear footsteps, and a few more yelled orders before—

You yelp as the kitchen is plunged into darkness before you slap your hand over your mouth, as if you can snatch the sound from the air and shove it back inside. Your hand shakes, palms and fingers sweating around the knife. Your body is wracked with the same panic that you felt at work. You hear a yelp, a shout, a gunshot, and a few more screams. It’s another moment before you hear someone run into the kitchen. Your heart stills in your chest, your breath catching in your throat. You flinch as you hear and see the flash of a gunshot. It’s closely followed by the grunting and groans of someone being beaten. They’re shoved into the counter next, and you hear the rattle of things being swept off of the counter.

“Who are you?”

The question is gruff and sharp—the vigilante's tone is low, growling. You frown. You know it. You know that sound. You know that voice. You’ve heard it in rare occasions, in far more exciting moments—amorous moments in rooms that are often just as dark. You find yourself stepping closer, straining your ear to catch on the gruff voice again, over the babbling, panicked incoherence of the begging burglar.

You close your eyes despite the dark of the room, taking in the sound of the voice. You know it—Oh, god you know it—

“We just picked this random spot, man, we didn’t know who was in here!” The burglar swore.

“And it just so happened that you weren’t otherwise occupied?”

Occupied.

Your jaw drops open as your mind flashes to one of Liz’s bathrooms—to your hand smoothing a condom over Bruce’s length as he yells over his shoulder that the bathroom is occupied. There’s a pause, the clang of metal hitting bone, and the dull thud of a body falling to the floor. Before you can stop yourself, you yank the door open and hiss, “Bruce?”

The kitchen is silent and still. The loudest sound is the thudding of your heart.

“Get back inside.”

Your knees go weak. It’s Bruce’s voice. But there’s no way he would’ve had time for someone else to leave, for Bruce to come in.

“Get back inside,” He urges again. You take a few panicked steps back into the pantry, yanking the door shut again. Your hand holds tightly to the knife, your mind whirling with your revelation.

When the cops find you, you’re still crouching in the pantry, a knife in your hand and tears in your eyes. Liz is a mess, insisting that Bruce has been kidnapped. You cover and reassure her—tell her that he couldn’t have been, that he left the kitchen right after he ate the spinach puff, that he’s probably back at the penthouse.

Frankly, you’re not sure wherever the hell he might be, but hey. That’s nothing new.

He gets back to the penthouse at three in the morning.

You’re probably not as startled as you should be, but you’re still wired and awake. You've spent the last few hours talking yourself in and out of the revelation. You didn't see who it was—you couldn't. The voice is familiar, sure, but you've heard audio recordings of Batman on the news, and it's wholly possible that someone just sounds like Bruce. You have grappled for every justification, every possibility, but in your heart, and in your gut, you know the truth.

You haven’t gotten a single call or a text from Bruce since the incident, and you look up to find Batman standing in the entryway of the apartment. You hesitate before you push yourself off of the couch. You take a few slow steps toward him, hands flexing nervously at your sides. He keeps quiet and still, as if he’s still hidden within the shadows. You take another step closer, closing the gap between the two of you. You raise your shaking hands carefully, resting your hands on his helmet. You gently lift it away, watching as it ruffles his hair. Your eyes sweep him—his tensed jaw, the darkness around his eyes.

It’s surreal. You’ve known—you’ve suspected for the last few hours, but to see it now—to see Bruce in armor, to find the man you love behind the mask—

“Okay,” You manage, turning away from him and drawing in a deep breath to try and steady your wildly pounding heart. “Okay.”

Your hands flex in the material of the mask, and you look down at it, tipping it to and fro.

"Did you just have this stashed somewhere near Liz's?"

"No. I left by the fire stairs."

"And went where?"

"I had to go rattle a few cages."

“...It's been you the whole time?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“So what happened at the shop—”

“I knew.”

“And you came to mine and just acted like you had no idea?”

“I had to make sure you were alright.”

You stare down at the helmet, fingers sweeping over it. It’s so heavy.

“...Who else knows?” You ask.

“Alfred.”

“Of course.”

“And someone at Wayne Enterprises. Lucius Fox.”

“Anyone else?”

“...I told you about Rachel.”

You nod, muttering, “Right.” Your fingers flex around the helmet. “How the hell did this—How did it start?”

“...Can we talk after I take this off?”

You glance back and find him gesturing to his body. You nod, holding the helmet out to him. Bruce hesitates before he takes it. He doesn’t go. He just looks over you. You shake your head a touch.

“What?” You ask.

“Are you alright?”

For all of your muddled feelings, a little bit of your anger and confusion melts. “Yes. Are you?”

Bruce nods a little before he turns away fully, eyeing the mask in his hands as he heads down the hall. You can only resist the urge to follow for a few moments. You stand in the doorway of his bedroom, watching the shades come down. He glances back at the sound of you before he begins to remove his armor. You tip your head to the side, watching him shove a row of suits in his closet aside and open a panel on the wall, jabbing a few buttons before you hear a hiss. You watch him step inside and out of sight.

This could still be fake, right? This could still be fake. He could’ve just used his, like, millions of dollars to get an exact replica of the suit…But it wouldn’t explain why he knew exactly what had happened at the shop. It would explain his weird bruises, his nighttime disappearances.

You straighten up as you hear Bruce come back, watch him tugging his sweatpants up and over his hips. He’s facing away from you, opening a dresser drawer. You pass the closet as you approach him, just catching sight of the suit descending before the back panel slides closed, obscuring the compartment from view.

You can see Bruce's body clearly now, for the first time—and it’s beyond bruising. There are scratches and marks riddling his back and sides. Most of them seem old, and faded. You can see the span of the bruise—the radiating bloom of it spreading from his neck, stretching to the slope of his shoulder. You reach out hesitantly, resting your hands on his hips. He goes still—in tension, confusion, you’re not sure. You crowd up close, brushing a gentle kiss to the tender skin. His shoulders relax under the carress, his body leaning back into yours just a little. You smooth your hands gently over the ridges of his abs, nuzzling into his neck.

You watch Bruce raise his hand, reaching for the light switch.

“Don’t,” You mumble. When he goes still, you tip your chin up, lips brushing the shell of his ear:

“I wanna see you.”

Bruce glances guardedly at you over his shoulder before he dips his head. He lowers hand to rest on yours, gently prying it from him. Your stomach flips nervously, then settles as Bruce slowly turns to face you. You can’t help the way your eyes skate and wander his torso, catching on each additional bruise, each fading scar. You raise your hands, gently running them down over his shoulders. You shiver as Bruce raises his in turn, smoothing them up your back.

You crowd closer, pressing your face into Bruce’s neck. He curls his arms around you, nuzzling your temple. You press another careful kiss to the bruise, squeezing your eyes shut as your emotions swell sharply. It’s almost too much to take, knowing that this man who spends his days among Gotham’s elite, grinning at paps, feigning ignorance and carelessness, spends his nights trying to make the city a safer place. You lean back from him, raising your hands to hide your face, and the prickling of tears in your eyes. Bruce doesn’t immediately tug you back in—he gives you some space. You draw in a shaky breath, clearing your face and scrubbing at your face to try to stave the tears off.

“Okay,” You mumble. “Okay. I need a drink, and you—” You wave in his direction, “You need to talk.”

It takes him time—time that clearly pains him, that he doesn’t seem to want to take. The two of you sit on opposite ends of his couch. He’s sprawled out across the cushions; you’re scrunched up on the other side, leg bouncing anxiously. When he comes to a stop, he’s staring down at his hands. It’s only a moment before he tacks on,

“I’m sorry.”

You frown, shaking your head. It’s confusing. What the hell is he sorry for? Lying?

“I shouldn’t have let you find out. I think it may be best if we…Part ways.”

Your gaze lifts to his, brows knitted.

“...Are you kidding me?” You ask after a moment.

“No, I’m not—”

“Oh—” You laugh, stunned, unable to help yourself, springing off of the couch with all of your nervous, pent-up energy. “Oh, that is bullshit, Bruce.”

“It is not bullshit!” He barks back. “It’s for your safety!”

“If you wanted me to be safe, you wouldn’t have said a word in the kitchen. You would’ve just gone on your way—or kept using that—that stupid gruff sex voice you use—”

“Sex voice?”

“You know, that,” You scrunch your face up, “That, you know, when you—” You clear your throat and lower your voice, letting out a garbled, growling noise.

“I do not sound like that.”

“You have before. Like, more than once.”

“It is not a sex voice.”

“And it is bullshit, for the record,” You add again, planting your hands on your hips. “If you really, really wanted to cover it, you would’ve stayed in the apartment for when the cops got there, faked that you were as freaked out as everyone else. Or you would’ve come back to the apartment in your regular clothes and told me you’d just stepped out for some air and the cops had kept you from coming back inside. You’re as tired of hiding this from me as I am of you hiding it.”

Bruce’s face falls, and he shifts in his seat to brace his elbows on his thighs, looking down at his empty hands.

“I didn’t know that you knew something was…Off,” Bruce admits softly.

“Not a clue?”

“A few hints, but I didn’t think it was about the suit.”

“...Okay, two things,” You close your eyes, holding up two fingers as you gather your thoughts. “It’s not just about the suit, it is about what you do in the suit. I get why now, but—You know.”

“What’s the other thing?”

“What the heck did you think I was off about?”

“I know you’re not stupid. I know you’ve seen some of the blood, some of the bruises. Guess I thought I’d covered it well enough.”

You can’t help but scoff.

“With what?” You ask incredulously. “The polo, the base-jumping, the spelunking, or the invisible shaving cuts?”

“Alright,” Bruce groans, running his hand through his hair. You’re quiet for a moment, looking him over before you turn away from him.

You can’t tell him not to do it. You can’t pretend that Batman hasn’t done good for this city, or that you haven’t been at the receiving end of it, seen it firsthand. If it had been different—if Bruce had come to you with the idea of an undertaking of the sort, rather than having already established himself as a vigilante—you would’ve told him that it was a ghastly idea, that he’d have himself killed in a day. Still, knowing what Bruce gets up to, night after night, is making your stomach squirm.

You hear the creak of him rising off of the couch, then feel him coming up behind you.

“Look,” He sighs, “Batman doesn’t exactly have friends in this city. If you’re linked to him, you could get hurt.”

You’re quiet for a moment, biting your lip.

“I doubt I could ever be linked to Batman when I’m not even linked to Bruce Wayne,” You counter.

Bruce reaches out, resting his hands on your hips, tugging you back. You wobble, then sway back into him a little reluctantly. You stare down at the floor, considering.

You could still cut ties. Your acquaintance is early enough that it wouldn’t raise eyebrows among his friends, or your parents—and, all things considered, maybe Alfred.

“If you want me out of here, tell me,” You finally say, just managing to hide your dismay.

“It’s—” Bruce starts before he sighs heavily, grip tightening on you. “I want you safe.”

“I’m safe with you.”

Bruce curls his arms around your middle, pressing his face into your shoulder. “But what if, one day, you’re not?”

You glance down at Bruce. You find his eyes squeezed shut, his face twisted in upset and fear. You go quiet for a moment, then rest your head against his, closing your eyes. You can’t blame him for the assumption. He lost his parents to the city. He doesn’t want to lose you, too.

You turn in his arms, curling your arms around his shoulders and drawing him in. Bruce burrows close, fingers grasping desperately at your shirt. You press a kiss to his head, combing your fingers through his hair. Bruce takes his time straightening before he cups your cheeks, smoothing his thumbs over your cheekbones. He takes in your face slowly, as if it’ll be the last time. You draw a deep breath in through your nose, steadying yourself. Oh, no.

“Can we go to bed?” You plead before he can say anything else. “Talk about this more in the morning?”

Bruce hesitates, then nods, mumbles, “Alright.”

Bruce takes his time joining you under the covers. You let yourself watch him, and think. You’re almost afraid to go to sleep. You’re almost afraid for the sun to come up. You can’t fathom what he’ll say then.

But tonight, when he shuts the lights off, he leaves the blinds up. You can make him out in the dim light of the room as he lays down beside you, as the two of you settle down on your sides and watch one another. You reach out, resting your hand on his cheek as he takes your other hand in his. He nuzzles into your touch, his eyes slipping closed. You see him take in a deep breath, then push it out slowly.

For the first time since you’ve known him, Bruce looks completely relaxed. He’s not shrouded or hidden from you. Your stomach flutters with butterflies as he turns his head, brushing his lips against your palm.

Next Part

#Bruce Wayne x Reader #Bruce Wayne x You #Bruce Wayne/Reader #Bruce Wayne/You #Bruce Wayne fic #Bruce Wayne imagine #The Other Way

599 notes · View notes

s0ftl3 · 10 months

Text

𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒏𝒕 𝑺𝒎𝒐𝒌𝒆

Summary: You and ted spend an evening at home getting high and one thing leads to another.

Warnings: NSFW, Dry humping, drug use, praise kink, degradation (if you squint), choking

A/N: not proof read, and I hope this is okay for my first work I don’t usually write this stuff down so uhhhh yeah. I had no idea how to end this comments and tips are greatly appreciated!!

You’re eyelids are already heavy and your body’s buzzing from your oncoming high. Ted’s head is tilted back, resting on the back of the couch as you sit in his lap so pretty. You’re not sure what it is about being high that makes you so needy over everything about him but you’re not complaining.

Your thoughts are interrupted by his palms slinging over your hips coming to rest on your waist. The sheer difference in size almost makes you cum on the fucking spot. You’re sure at this point he can feel the wet spot forming between the two of you.

“See something you like?” He’s got a dumb lazy smile on his face as he looks down at you. He knows damn well you like everything you see. From his pretty face to dick print you can feel hardening under you.

You return the dumb smile. “Mmm I definitely feel something I like.” You grind your hips down onto him teasingly and are rewarded with a soft groan from him. His fingertips burst the hem of your lounge shorts that do hardly anything to cover your ass.

He pulls you into a heated kiss gabbing your ass tightly, his dick twitches in his shorts as your pulled farther down onto him.

“You’re so fucking pretty baby,” he mouths at your throat leaving pretty marks in his lips’s wake, “my pretty little slut.”

You can’t help the heat that spreads across your face as you grip his shoulders. His fingers dip below the hem of your shorts grabbing handfuls of your ass, urging to to grind lazily against him. You let out a small whimper as you comply rolling your hips against his, eyes rolling back at the friction.

“Good girl, that’s it grind on my cock,” he words are praises but they feel almost degrading in a way, “doing such a good fucking job baby.”

“Mh.. Ted please.” the friction is good but it’s not quite enough and you want so desperately for him to wrap one of those big hands around your throat.

Ted smirks clearly finding your desperation amusing, “please what baby? Tell me what my pretty slut needs.” He makes it harder on you by bucking his hips into yours, watching you struggle to form your words.

You pout, he knows what you want, why does he have to make it so difficult for you. “Teddy please, want you to choke me.” You whine out in hopes he’ll take pity on you and just give you what you want. Thankfully he does and wraps his fingers around your throat squeezing with just the right amount of pressure that makes you see stars.

He knows all you need to cum is one of his big hands squeezing your pretty little throat, and he knows your in no position to hold off your orgasm. So, he lets you cum all over his thighs. “My girl looks so pretty when she makes a fucking mess.”

#ted nivison smut #smut #fanfic #chuckle sandwich #ted nivison

267 notes · View notes

callumsgirl · 1 month

Text

Beautiful Things...that I've got

pairing: Austin Butler x female reader (Elizabeth)

summary: Elizabeth is young and beautiful when she starts a bartender job at the Rough Wheel. A dimly lit bar known for its jukeboxes, pool tables and the Outlaw MC drinking and hanging around.

Elizabeth had been working at the bar for two months and had had a crush on Austin ever since she first saw him playing pool and he called her a Babydoll in a raspy, warm voice, and handed her his credit card. It only got worse from that moment on, because to say Elizabeth was inexperienced with men was an understatement. She was 21, unkissed and a virgin, and Outlaw's number two had it in for her.

warnings: mostly flirting, age gab (21 y.o. and 33 y.o.), light and heavy smut, kissing, sexual unexperienced woman, virgin woman, first sexual experiences, some hard wording, use of pet names, fist fight, blood and smut, tears and mental pain

word count: 15,7 k

A/N: English is my second language. Please have mercy with me!

POV Elizabeth // Chicago, USA

Today is my two month anniversary, and all of my classes at the college are going pretty well for me. My grades are impeccable, I'm almost done writing my senior thesis, and I've made $60 in tips in my last two shifts.

Also, my mother had finally stopped trying to fix me up with a smart young man from her church. She tries to do that all the time and it's annoying. Mom always wants to get me a good match. She's hopelessly romantic. I let out a silent sigh. After combing my hair, I put it up in a plait. A young woman with moss-green eyes and freckles on her cheeks looks at me in the mirror. Hoping to look halfway decent next to the other female waitresses and earn a few dollars in tips, I dab a little lip gloss on my lips.

I'm wearing my favourite dress. It's red, cute and not too short for working behind the bar. I made the mistake of wearing a skirt that was too short once in my first week at the bar…and it was awkward and disgusting when Jimmy - that weird old guy who always sits at the bar - saw my half-naked bum.

Since then I've only worn jeans, skirts or dresses that cover my thighs. I'm also the only one of the waitresses who doesn't wear red lipstick. Callie, a bartender friend of mine, thinks I'm a prude and pretty stupid to miss out on all the tips just because I don't want to wear red lipstick.

To be honest, I need every cent, but I'm not going to earn it by wearing red lipstick, batting my eyes and sitting on some guy's lap. I close my eyes for a moment and take a deep breath.

I take one last look in the mirror before I leave the student hall of residence and get on my bike to cycle to the bar. My shift starts at 6pm and it takes me about 20 minutes on my bike.

When I arrive at the bar, it's still quiet and empty. I put my bag in my locker, tie an apron around my waist and start taking stock of the alcoholic drinks and snacks.

Just as I'm ticking off the last few lines of the list, Callie comes into the bar and smiles at me. She is tall, athletic and has flawless skin. Her full lips are all glossy and dark red. Callie looks beautiful and sexy without much effort. Life can be really cruel. I curl my lips a little enviously.

"Hey sweet girl. You look pretty. Did you put the dress on for Austin?" she teases me and winks as her hands clasp the hem of my red dress and she strokes it. She really winks at me!

I shake my head gently and feel my cheeks flush.

Damn it. Calm down Elizabeth, I think and give her a shy smile. Just one comment about Austin and my heartbeat goes out of control and I look like a tomato.

Sometimes I think she has an idea of how sheltered I grew up. That my parents kept me a million miles away from all the boys, that all I had to worry about was making sure I got good grades. But then she winks at me and makes these… comments about red lips and that I work in a bar full of hot bikers.

This bar is definitely a place my parents would never have let me go. Plus, this bar is far from my parents' idea of where I should work and who I should hang out with. But I haven't told them about my job yet.

The hourly wage is okay. The tips don't make me rich, but it helps me get through the month and I'm certainly not going to call my parents and ask for a dime.

I bite the inside of my cheek and lower my eyes, embarrassed. "Don't be silly, Callie," I laugh nervously. "I'm wearing this dress because I like it. Austin wouldn't even look at me if I - I gesture in her direction with my pen in hand, pursing my lips at her revealing outfit. "…if I wore something like you. It just doesn't suit me." I can feel my cheeks getting even hotter and quickly brush a loose strand of hair that has come loose from my plait behind my ear.

"You're joking, aren't you?" she asks, raising an eyebrow curiously. Her make-up is striking and dark. Her green eyes look so hypnotizing and intense with the black eyeliner and her red lips distract me.

I shake my head again and turn to more important tasks. Namely, finally getting through this list before the bar fills up.

"No," I reply and shrug my shoulders. "It's obvious that I don't fit in here and I'm sure no one here is interested in me. Look at me." I can't help but smile. It's obvious that I grew up differently and don't belong here. I stand out with my freckles, my clothes and the fact that I hardly wear any make-up. I often feel out of place. That's often the case. I press my lips together.

Callie smirks and brushes another strand of hair out of my face. "You're really sweet, Lizzie, and naïve," she says, pinching my cheek.

I gasp indignantly and frown. "What?" I ask in shock and blink at her. She can't be serious, can she?

"You're clever, and pretty, and cute. You're a lot more dangerous to the boys here than you think. Plus a lot of the men calling you by pet names. It's a good sign and more money for you, sweet girl." Then Callie turns her back to me and starts polishing beer glasses.

What nonsense, I think to myself and stare at her for a few more seconds until I get back to work.

Two hours later, the bar is overcrowded and I'm mixing various drinks in piecework time. I cut fresh lemon slices and decorate cocktail glasses. Then I pour beer and polish glasses again.

The air is warm, stale and when the front door opens again, a cool breeze blows over my heated, slightly sweaty skin. Only now do I realize how out of breath I actually am and how hungry I am. As if on cue, my stomach grumbles and I sigh in bittersweet despair. My break isn't for another two hours and judging by the rush at the bar, I'll be making a lot more cocktails before then. I let out another sigh and chew on my lower lip. The thought of my turkey sandwiches in my rucksack makes my stomach growl and I feel sick.

I roll my eyes. Pull yourself together, Elizabeth.

Then I work through the customers' drinks requests. I mix cocktails and pour beer. I fill the ice and lemons, rinse the glasses and polish them afterwards. Another blonde comes to the bar and waves for a waitress. Just as I'm about to approach her, Callie comes towards me and sends me on my break. Thank God!

I devour my sandwich and an apple during my short break between the current swing and the next. Then I stand behind the bar again and push full glasses across the counter. I'm slicing up more lemons and limes when someone throws a penny into the jukebox and selects a song. This Live by Curtis Stigers.

It's loud in here and it's hard to hear the music, but when the first sounds come through to me, I know immediately that he is here. Only one person in the bar would dare to play just this one song. I exhale loudly and my fingers tremble as I place the lemon and lime slices in a bowl.

My eyes sting slightly and I squint. While everything around me is black and yet so loud, I try to calm my frayed nerves. My heartbeat speeds up and a shiver runs down my spine. I bite my lower lip and whirl around to the counter as a woman's voice calls for the waitress again.

I see him out of the corner of my eye as I'm mixing two Bloody Marys. "Have a nice evening," I murmur in a loud voice and push the glasses over to the blonde woman waiting impatiently for her drinks.

As soon as she's gone, I wipe my hands on my apron and take two or three steps to the left. From here I can see the pool table, and I swallow hard when I recognize Austin among the bikers. It's not unusual for the MC to come here, but it's nerve-wracking for me. It's the closest I've ever been to a bunch of law-breakers on roaring motorcycles.

Young - and attractive, very attractive. He is tall, wears washed-out blue jeans and a black sleeveless top, with his biker jacket over it and has dark blond unruly hair and crazy blue eyes with which he surveys the entire bar.

I take another step closer to the end of the counter and scrutinize him. Describing Austin as handsome doesn't even begin to do him justice. I bite my lip and continue to stare. I don't normally do this, but I can't help myself…he's just so good looking.

"Oh, my God," I moan softly and lean over the bar a little, standing on my tiptoes as Austin takes the pool stick from a younger guy. A prospect I guess. They're all wearing biker jackets and I can feel my pulse fluttering under my skin.

The jackets of the older members are decorated with various patches and the prospects wear completely naked jackets. I don't really know much about life in an MC, but I've overheard conversations from the girls at the bar and know that the prospects have to earn their patches. With character and courage, sometimes with strangely dangerous tasks and other times they have to take a beating. I think it's exaggerated and dangerous, but nobody asks me.

"Damn, kiss me, fuck me," I sigh and watch as he leans his upper body over the pool table, focuses on the balls in front of him and then shoots. An electric wave rushes through my entire body and I press my lips together helplessly.

"Yeah, you'd like that," Callie suddenly mumbles behind me, scaring the hell out of me. I don't even know that I said it out loud.

But Austin isn't paying any attention to me and is smoking his cigarettes and playing pool with his boys. I press my lips and eyes together in shame and turn to face to Callie. "I didn't…"

"Shut up, sweet girl," she puts a finger to my lips and leans closer to me, her lips almost touching my cheek as she murmurs in my ear: "I'd fuck him too. He's really hot."

The two of us watch Austin as he leans on the edge of the pool table with both arms. The subdued light makes shadows dance across the deep ridges of his muscles. His muscles are firm and pronounced and as he slowly raises his head, mumbles something to himself and shoos one of the contenders away, our eyes meet. I need a moment to find my voice again. If this man had any semblance of a middle-class and less dangerous life, I would probably throw myself at him. But he lives for the MC and that… is not for me.

I have been crushing on him since the first night he handed me his credit card, called me with a raspy voice Babgirl for once, and asked me to start a tab for him. That was the starting point and it only got worse from there.

I gasp out loud - once again I feel caught out tonight and as the corners of his mouth lift slowly and sensually, his lips curl into a knowing, dirty smile, my stomach tightens. I stumble back half a step and bump my back against Callie's torso.

"Sorry," I mumble breathlessly and turn around in a flash. I disappear into the break room and sit there for five minutes until my heart rate calms down.

Pull yourself together, my sense of honor whispers to me and pulls my shoulders back. It raises its little chin to the sky and then gives me an encouraging nod. Get out there and keep serving drinks, Elizabeth.

I have regained some control of myself as I step behind the bar. It takes all my mental strength not to turn my head and look back at the pool table, but I persevere. Over the next half hour, I continue to serve drinks and the memories of Austin are pushed back into my mind. However, the biting feeling of shame in my chest continues to remind me that I've made an idiot of myself.

That's just the way you are, the cynical little voice in my head etches, jabbing me in the ribs. Prudish, untouched and not wanted.

Austin is in a different league to me. I scrape together the last shreds of self-respect and lock all my thoughts of him away in a little box in the back of my head.

I am overcome with nausea and only by taking deep breaths do I manage to shake off the feeling. I turn to polishing more glasses when I suddenly feel a dark, slightly cheerful and vibrant presence behind me. My back muscles tense up and I lift my chin slightly. My senses are on alert.

I hope it's not Jimmy again, I think wistfully and curl my lips into an unpleasant grimace. Just as I've mentally resigned myself to having to deal with Jimmy today, I hear a pleasantly hoarse voice murmur: "Hey Babydoll, are you free?"

I stifle an annoyed groan and grit my teeth. Then I breathe in and out quietly before I start draining another glass of beer. Austin called me Babydoll, again and a tiny part of me likes it. Very much so. Apart from the life he leads, which I absolutely don't want for myself, he's insanely handsome. I mean, what's the big deal if I look at him from time to time. As far as I know, no one has ever died from being adored from afar. My self-esteem grinds its teeth alarmingly and crosses its arms in front of its chest. I shake my head slightly, worried about the direction my thoughts are taking, and grab another glass to polish. "I'm busy. Please leave me alone."

"Doesn't look particularly busy," Austin replies. "If you're already behind the bar-"

The day had started so well and now - after my embarrassing reaction to what? A brief eye contact and I'm done. I interrupt him, annoyed and angry at the lapse in my self-control. In one fluid motion, I turn to him and the words flow uninhibited from my lips: "Then what, asshole?"

Shit! I'm fucked, I think the moment I recognize my words. I open my eyes. My subconscious lifts its little head in shock and stares back and forth between me and Austin. It's completely beside itself and hisses angrily: Are you crazy? I stumble a step back and my butt bang against the back of the bar. My hands are shaking and I barely manage to put the glass of beer down on the counter.

A few seconds pass and everything around me suddenly happens in slow motion. The music is muffled and only reaches me to a limited extent, the shouts of the waiting guests are far away and the laughter over at the pool table barely touches me.

"Asshole, hmm? I wouldn't have trusted you to have such a dirty mouth, babygirl." Austin's ice-blue eyes scrutinize me attentively. The intensity of his gaze and demeanor gives me the creeps.

"Don't call me, babygirl", I grumble angrily. Then I hesitate and lower my gaze. I stare at my sneakers and then raise my head again, heart pounding. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have insulted you."

"Ohh, you can call me whatever you want. I've been called far worse," he laughs lightly and licks his lips.

Oh, I can immediately think of some suitable names; arrogant idiot, fool, arrogant ass…I follow the movements of his body and watch as he rests his elbows on the counter, his muscles bulging, and then murmurs dangerously darkly, "Why not? Do you have a boyfriend I should know about?"

"What?" I squeak and blink like crazy. "Do I what?", I add. My gaze is still glued to his lips. Wow, what pink, full lips. I wonder how they would feel on mine....hmm. Stop! I squint my eyes. No, I think angrily. He's a tease and he's making fun of me.

"Do you have a boyfriend, little girl?" he asks again, continuing to look me in the eye intensely as he leans a little further over the counter and reaches for a bottle of brandy.

"Hey," I grumble. "Put it back down," I demand of him and there's that amused glint in his eyes again. To my surprise, or perhaps more likely his own, he puts the bottle back down and raises his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. At least make me a drink."

I snort and step hesitantly on the spot. None of my colleagues seem to have noticed what's going on between him and me.

Then it suddenly occurs to me that he could get me fired quicker than I'd like. A nasty look from him and Tom, the owner will sack me. I lower my eyes to my feet once more and then tighten my shoulders. I take two steps to the front bar and pick up the bottle of brandy.

"With cola? With ice?," I ask and take a heavy crystal glass from one of the lower cupboards.

"No, just ice," he shakes his head and as I pour the brandy into the glass, he doesn't take his eyes off me. As I break some ice in the cooler, I don't notice how he slowly raises his left arm and shortly afterwards I feel his rough, warm knuckles on my cheek. When his knuckles touch my skin, I feel like sparks are flying. Embarrassed, I pull my head back. Must have been static energy. I blink, about as fast as my heart is beating. I lift my head slightly and look at him with a slightly trembling lower lip.

"What are you doing?", I whisper. "Please stop." I turn my head slightly to avoid his touch, even though it burns me and feels good.

Again, he doesn't answer my question. Instead, he repeats his, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Why does he want to know? He's certainly not checking out his chances with me. I inwardly roll my eyes at this unnecessary comment and the clear side-swipe from my subconscious.

I sigh half annoyed at his arrogance, half shocked that he's touching me. "No, I don't have a boyfriend. Please let go of me."

"That's a real shame," he murmurs, his husky voice doing strangely heated things to me. I'm blinking too fast, breathing too loudly and my hands are shaking badly as I put the full brandy glass on the counter and push it over to him. "You have really nice lips. Not as made up as the other girls here."

I turn deep red. Once again, and when he recognizes the heated glow on my cheeks, he finally leans back slowly. But before his knuckles leave my cheek, his thumb brushes over my bottom lip, tracing its outline. My breath catches and I can't move. Austin raises the glass to his lips and takes a small sip. "That really is a waste, babygirl," he replies, and I swallow hard.

As soon as the meaning of his words get through to me, I tear myself away from him. With unsteady legs, I stumble back and slap his hand away. "Stop it. I'm not one of your whores!"

I feel hurt and humiliated. Really offended by his words.

His eyes flash in astonishment. His slapped hand hovers in the air for a few moments and then he lowers it. He still looks unimpressed and completely calm. But the expression in his blue eyes has changed. In addition to the glitter, shadows now dance in his eyes and it's really creepy.

I really did beat him. Fuck!

Well, not really, but it was wrong. Now he has every reason to have me thrown out.

He strokes his own lip with the thumb that was just touching mine. The way he strokes his lips is hypnotizing and dangerous at the same time. "Hmmm… you're not really," he murmurs, fixing me very slowly. "If you were one, my hands would be around your pretty, slender neck right now."

He can't possibly be serious. My pulse quickens. Why is he upsetting me like this? Is it because of his outrageously good looks? Is it his penetrating gaze? Or is it because he keeps tracing his lower lip with his thumb and glaring at me menacingly? Can't he finally stop doing that?

I catch my breath and unconsciously lift my own hands to my neck. He grins wickedly. "Exactly… I would squeeze and squeeze until your eyes glaze over and your beautiful lips open slightly. I would make you beg and punish you", he confirms without any humor in his voice and stares at me.

"You're physotic," I reply in a low voice. I hardly trust my own voice anymore. The words slip out before I can stop them.

He gently shakes his head again, amused by my choice of words. Then everything happens very quickly. Austin leans over the bar again and grabs my wrist, pulling me towards him with a jerk. The tips of my feet touch the baseboard of the bar and I gasp in his face, startled and frightened.

I blink around, looking for help, but still no one is looking after me. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Callie at the other end of the bar and I want to call out to her, but one look into Austin's eyes and I fall silent. He raises his free hand and brushes a loose strand of my hair behind my ear. My whole body trembles with tension and sheer fear.

"No, I'm not," he contradicts me. "I just grew up differently to you, babygirl," he explains, lowering his eyelids briefly. His voice is surprisingly soft. Austin stares at the neckline of my dress from above and can see my breasts rising and falling quickly. Then his eyes fall on my necklace. He licks his lips and takes the small cross between his fingers.

I expect him to say some stupid line about God and Jesus, but none of it comes out of his lips. Instead, he leans down so that his cheek brushes my chin and I raise my hands, clasping his wrist as he strokes my lips. "Just as innocent and pure as I suspected."

"You don't know anything about me", I stutter and in the next moment, I close my eyes and press my lips together. God, how can anyone be as stupid as me?

Austin is grinning and he is so close to me that I can breathe in his scent. He smells intoxicatingly of aftershave, soap and engine oil. I greedily soak up the smell.

"Oh no?" he asks, amused. "Then listen carefully Elizabeth. You're young, so damn pretty and innocent. I could have you broken and floating in five fucking minutes. Don't tell me you're a bad girl who kisses random strange men and spreads her legs," he stops and I jerk my eyes open. Austin leans back enough to look me in the eye again. "You're pure, you're perfect, and yet you're in this fucked up place…with me."

"Please let go off me", I beg.

Austin tilts his head slightly and looks at me. "You've got my attention now and I'm not done with you yet."

His words are both a threat and a promise. What does it all mean?

There are so many confusing thoughts chasing around in my head. I can't bring order to the chaos and when Austin brushes my lips again, muscles I didn't know I had tighten deep inside. "Do you know what the problem is with beautiful things in life, Elizabeth?"

I shake my head, barely noticing. Somehow I fear something bad and I try to pull away from him. The corners of his mouth twitch again. Sick bastard! He's having way too much fun with this whole thing. Intimidating young women like me and making fools of them is probably one of his habits. Austin smiles, fascinated, and loosens his grip on my wrist. A brief illusion of control and freedom that I try to take advantage of. I tug and tug, but he tightens his grip again.

"Shh, shh," he whispers. "You don't have to panic, babygirl. Just answer my question."

"I don't know, what's with the beautiful things, Austin?" I sound much whinier than I would like and shrug my shoulders cluelessly. I just want to get out of this bar and crawl into my little bed in the dorm.

"They are only beautiful until they are broken. What will break you?"

He loosens his grip and slowly lets go of me. I immediately increase the distance to him and wipe my palms over my cheeks. There are a few tears and I quickly wipe them away. Then I rub my wrist gently and look at him, scared and angry.

There is a satisfied, ashamed grin on his lips as he stands up and pushes the brandy glass over the counter. He toasts me and strolls back to the pool table.

I wrap my arms around my torso and try miserably to calm my nerves and my raging heartbeat. I just want to get out of here and wash the entire day off my skin. But when I look over at the wall clock, it's only 11 p.m.

I keep glancing nervously over my shoulder and catch Austin staring in my direction. Maybe this is another one of his strange habits, I think distractedly and purse my lips.

Then a rarely romantic thought rises up in the depths of my mind and I wonder if there is any hope left that there is still some light shimmering in Austin. I'm naïve, but not naïve enough to think I can change him. I realized early on that I'm not the girl that guys quit their jobs or move across the country for. A guy certainly wouldn't give up his lifestyle and values for me. Not when it involves motorcycling and a god damn MC.

It's after midnight when Callie goes into the break and the bar is half empty. I start refilling a few shots, washing glasses and wiping down the bar. When I've done everything behind the bar, I grab a fresh cloth and start wiping down the empty tables in the entrance area. I replace the burnt-out candles with new ones and refill the serving dispenser and cutlery.

It takes me about ten minutes to finish the first tables and say goodbye to the other regulars. Austin and his biker friends are still there. While some continue to play pool or darts, Austin sits on a chair. He sits upside down on it and leans his arms over the backrest, holding a half-empty glass in one hand. A cigarette burns between his lips and I quickly look away from him when I realize how much I'm staring at him. Just after… everything.

"This is so stupid," I mutter to myself after turning my back on him. "Get over him , Elizabeth!" I wipe down the next tables. Some have stains, others are sticky. I scrub like crazy. I'm finally done, my hands a little rough and dry from the detergent. Just as I'm about to disappear behind the counter, I bump into a guy.

I squeak, startled, and stammer: "Sorry, I didn't see you."

"No problem," a pleasantly warm voice replies, and I feel two large hands on my upper arms, gently pushing me back a few steps. "Didn't see you, sweetheart."

I think his name is Benny. He's so young and a prospect in the MC. He does the dirty work and has to be pushed around by the older members.

But for what?, I ask myself.

I take a closer look at him and notice that he has a nice smile, even though he's completely drunk. His brown, wispy hair sticks out in all directions. His dark eyes are narrowed.

"It's okay," I smile. "Maybe you should go home. You've had a lot to drink," I suggest in a cautious voice.

He looks at me silently for a breath, maybe two. Then he nods slightly and makes a slightly snivelling face. "I can't leave until the others do. That's what being new is like."

"Ohh," I gasp in surprise. "I didn't know that."

"It's alright", he reply. "You're really pretty by the way", Benny adds.

His thumbs rub lightly over my bare upper arms and I start to shiver. I tilt my head back slightly and giggle. "Really?" I ask. "Am I pretty?"

He frowns in confusion. "Yeah…"

"Benny, come here." A harsh, hoarse voice cuts through the air. I feel Benny's fingers tighten around my upper arms. Inevitably, I hold my breath and take half a step back. Benny drops his arms and when his hands leave my skin, I feel a chill run through me.

"I'm sorry," he begins. But once again his words are interrupted by Austin's hoarse, strained voice. I press my lips together and close my eyes.

"It was nice talking to you, Benny." I say with a small smile and circle around him.

Just before I stand behind the bar again, he murmurs in a q uiet voice, "I'd like to talk to you more often."

The corners of my mouth twitch and for the first time in a few hours, something feels normal, and nice. I nod slightly, "Okay Benny."

From a distance, I hear a chair scraping loudly across the wooden floor, and then Austin appears in the corner of my eye. He comes towards me with determined steps and I open my eyes in shock as he stretches out an arm and jerks Benny around by the shoulder. For a fraction of a moment, Benny is completely surprised, then he tries in vain to push Austin away from him. Austin wraps a hand around Benny's neck and holds him tight. But it is futile. Austin presses him closer to his chest and his lips almost touch the shell of Benny's ear as he whispers hoarsely in his ear. Meanwhile, his icy blue eyes lock on me. An unstoppable storm rages in them and I stumble back.

Benny looks completely tense. He nods mechanically to everything Austin hisses into his ear. Then Austin lets go of Benny's neck. I breathe a sigh of relief. My heart is pounding in my throat as Austin presses Benny's cheek flat against the sticky counter with a deafening slap. Benny groans painfully, but makes no sign of resisting.

"Do you hear me?" Austin hisses angrily. "You will never talk to her or look at her again or I'll break more than your fucking ribs."

"Austin," I scream, terrified. "He didn't do anything."

"Shut up, baby girl. He needs to learn his place." For a split second, I see something like humility and remorse in his eyes. Then it's gone, leaving behind the dark shadows and the raw aggression that runs through his veins.

I stumble back a few more steps until my legs hit the back of the counter. My fingers rebel as I clutch my hands hard around the edge of the counter, turning my head to the side as Austin pushes it down on the counter once more. A whimper escapes me and I immediately slap my hands over my face.

"Now take it like a man, Benny," he demands and lets him go. Austin takes a few steps away from him and takes off his jacket. He hands it to a guy with a long white beard. I think his name is Hank.

The scene in front of me makes no sense to me at all. I want to intervene and object, but I don't understand what this is all about. My lips open, but I close my mouth again. What should I say?

The other bikers have now also stood up and some of them, mainly the older ones, are watching the show with amusement. Then Knickers comes over to the bar and leans sideways on the counter. He gives me a surprisingly sympathetic look. As if he can grasp my confusion, he says, "It's not personal, sweetheart. Those are the rules at the MC and Benny has to respect them."

"But he only spoke to me," I mumble in exasperation. Austin's lips are curled into a promising grin. The tip of his tongue darts out from between his lips and he moistens them. Then he raises his hand and holds up exactly one finger. "You have one free stroke, Benny. Then I'll finish you off."

"What?" I gasp. "Hank?" I chastise in shock and open my eyes. "He's not really hitting him, is he?"

"Relax, little one. It'll be over quickly." He pats my hand like I'm five years old.

"No." I shake my head wildly. "I can't let that happen." I'm halfway to stepping out from behind the bar when Knickers grabs my hand, gently but firmly. "Stay here, little one. Austin can be a moody son of a bitch, but he's fair."

Fair?! This is a really bad joke. I audibly expel the air from my lungs and watch as Austin encourages Benny with a wave of his hand. "Go on!" he shouts.

Benny raises his fists and in the next moment he dashes forward with a big stride. He swings his right fist and misses Austin's chin by a hair's breadth. I squeal and squeeze Hank's hand.

Then they circle each other like predators and it's as if Austin is taunting him and deliberately not landing any hits. A frightening darkness flickers in his blue eyes again and I bite my lower lip. Benny takes advantage of the moment of inattention and delivers a brutal left uppercut to Austin. I squeeze my eyes shut and the next time I open them, Austin is wiping his thumb over his split lip and spitting blood onto the scratched wooden floor of the bar.

"You little fucker!" Austin curses and spits again, this time right at Benny's feet. This is followed by two quick steps and a combination of uppercuts and frontal punches to Benny's ribcage.

A deafening crack followed by pain-filled moans pierces the bar and my ears. Benny sinks to his knees and a breath later Austin pushes him to the floor and starts hitting him with wild combinations of punches. All I can see is spurting blood and hear loud, uncontrolled breathing.

I pull my hand out from under Hank's and flee to the back of the bar. As soon as I reach the back office, I push through the crack in the door and close the door behind me. Salty tears run down my cheeks and I try to contain the adrenaline rushing through my body. I stroke my cheeks, then my hair and walk in circles.

My head is spinning. What the hell just happened? What have I got myself into?

"Fuck," I mumble breathlessly. "Benny…what have I done," I cry. I throw myself onto the brown leather couch and pull my legs close to my chest, crying bitter tears. I am overcome by a wave of guilt. It all happened so fast - one second I was wiping the table and the next Austin was pining over some poor, innocent guy…because of me. I am the reason for this outburst of brutal, bloody violence. My chest rises and falls heavily and I gasp desperately for air. Tears blur my vision and I sniffle, and sniffle. It's no use and within a few minutes my nose is completely blocked and my cheeks are burning from the salty tears. I wipe my face roughly with my hands.

I'm so lost in my thoughts and tears that I don't even notice the heavy footsteps approaching me. It's only when the office door opens and Austin steps into the room that I raise my head, startled. My legs tremble and my fingers feel numb and cold as I struggle to my feet. Defiantly, I jut my chin up and sniffle: "I didn't invite you in."

"You didn't have to, babygirl," he replies harshly.

Damn it, go away, I plead silently and when he doesn't move, I scrutinize him from head to toe. My gaze first falls on his clenched fists. His knuckles are swollen, partially burst open and full of blood. I feel sick in an instant. I quickly turn my eyes away from his hands and look him in the face. His ice-blue eyes gleam wildly and impenetrably in my direction and I bite my lower lip. His lower lip has split open and blood is slowly drying on his chin. I swallow hard and turn away from him. "I don't want to see you. Please go away!"

Again, there is no answer. I don't hear the door either and the next moment I feel two warm, large hands resting on my upper arms and turning me around. His arrogance pisses me off and I want to scream at him, but at the same time I'm terrified of him. Austin has just beaten up a man…over an innocent conversation.

"That's not true," he insists in a gentle voice. "Why are you crying?" he whispers. He hugs me to him with one arm while he lets the fingers of his other hand glide tenderly over my cheek. I avert my gaze and close my eyes. His fingertips trace the contours of my face and when his thumb strokes my lower lip, his breath catches and I open my eyes. Austin looks me in the eye, and I return his smoldering, bewildered gaze before his shapely mouth catches my attention. Despite the swelling already setting in and the dried blood, his lips are still pink and full. For the first time in my twenty-one years of life, I want to be kissed. Even if all the circumstances speak against it.

Damn it, kiss me!, I beg him silently.

"You hit him," I whisper in a trembling voice. I'm paralyzed, completely captivated by him. I stare at his mouth, spellbound, and Austin looks down at me with a darkly veiled gaze. He cups his palm around my cheek and chin. His touch forces me to lean towards him.

"He was looking at you," he explains and I stare at him, confused.

What? "Just like every other guest tonight. Do you even hear what you're saying?" I ask, frowning. I raise my arms and press my palms to his chest, which turns out to be a clear mistake. He doesn't move an inch and feeling his warm, firm muscles and heartbeat under my fingers feels so wrong and yet so outrageously good.

"Even if I explained it to you, you wouldn't understand," he sighs and strokes my cheek again. This time his cracked knuckles touch my skin and I flinch. Austin shows no pain, though. "The rules in MC are very specific. He had to understand that there are rules, and you're one of them, babygirl." He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and shakes his head almost imperceptibly, as if to answer my unspoken question. When he opens his eyes again, the expression in his blue eyes is distant and there is a steely determination in them.

"Elizabeth, I'm exactly what you don't want out of life," he whispers.

Excuse me? How does he know that? Where did this sudden change of direction come from? Surely that's my decision alone, even if he's absolutely right and my reason applauds his words. My thoughts swirl out of disappointment at his confusing rejection. "You don't want me! I'm fucked up," he announces, swallowing hard. "I'd only break you," he adds hoarsely, gently pushing me away from him.

No!, my subconscious screams as he detaches himself from me and half turns away. Suddenly I feel very lonely and exposed. He watches my reaction carefully and a thought flashes through my mind: I wanted to be kissed, I made it damn obvious, and he didn't do it. He doesn't desire me.

I feel like a naive fool.

"You can't just say something like that and then walk away!" I mutter indignantly. The disappointment at his rejection and the cryptic meaning of his words make me angry. I grab his wrist and force him to look at me. "What do you mean I'm part of these MC rules?"

Austin looks at me silently for a while. Then he nods slowly and licks his lips. "Okay babygirl," he murmurs softly.

How can just a few words sound so enticing? I let go of his wrist and sit down on the brown couch. I look at him expectantly and watch as he somehow searches for the right words. Wow! I didn't think it was possible that someone like him - dark and dangerous - could be speechless; reaching for the right words.

"Some of us enjoy certain…privileges because of our rank in the club. We eat first, drink first, pick women," he pauses and rubs his knuckles together. "I picked you, and that includes the other guys keeping their distance from you."

"You did what? Picked me out, reserved me?" I shout at him angrily and stand up. I don't normally tend to use loud words and I immediately lower my voice again. Shouting has never helped anyone.

I straighten my shoulders and stare at Austin. My pulse starts to race. Something tightens in my stomach and the next moment I push past him wordlessly to leave the room. I can't believe it - I feel objectified, like an thing that can be reserved. My eyes start to sting again and I bite the inside of my cheek. This evening is a nightmare. I just want it to be over and I can leave. I'm sure if I find Callie and tell her I'm not feeling well, she'll let me go.

Just as I grasp the doorknob, an arm wraps around my waist from behind and spins me around. I collide with Austin's chest and gasp in shock. His fingertips tighten their grip around my waist and squeeze the fabric of my dress. He grabs my chin with his other hand and forces me to look him in the eye. My lower lip trembles and my choppy breath collides with his as I open my lips slightly. Austin stares at me, dark and promising. Is he going to kiss me after all?, I wonder, and in the next moment I receive a powerful jab between the ribs. My inner voice warns me and shrieks wildly. Fight him off, growls my subconscious. I silence it.

"Yes and no…I was protecting you with it, Elizabeth! Don't you understand that at all?" he asks, his jaw grinding.

How is he trying to protect me? He reserves me and puts his brand on me, and then?

"Protecting me? You're kinding right, Austin." I roll my eyes and press my hands against his chest. I desperately try to break away from him, but he won't let me escape. I turn my head jerkily and tear myself away from an engaging touch.

I hit his damn hard chest again. Son of a bitch!

He doesn't budge an inch and I realize how my nerves are slipping away from me repeatedly that evening. My blows become more uncoordinated, sluggish and weaker until my palms are just resting on his chest.

He lifts my chin again and I reluctantly give in. "Would you rather I kept my mouth shut and let some random guy throw dirty comments at you, grab your ass or pull you out of their laps, huh?"

I shake my head dejectedly and pause for a moment. I take a moment to memorize the sight of him. I have him to thank for the fact that I have mostly been left alone for the last two months, neither adjusted nor pulled onto any laps…after all the silence and my silent, bittersweet pining, he is still looking at me. Why me? I don't understand.

We remain silent. All thoughts are blown away and what remains is darkness and emptiness in my head. I risk a furtive glance up at him and at his lips. When Austin notices, his lips twitch.

He tightens the grip of his arm around my waist a little more and presses my upper body against his. My hands are now trapped between our bodies and suddenly the atmosphere in the room changes. Maybe it's because we're in such close quarters, or maybe it's because the hint of blood mingles with his unmistakable scent and numbs my senses. Tense, heated anticipation is in the air. My breathing and pulse quicken and he lowers his head a little. His eyes shimmer like liquid ice water and I bite my lip.

"Oh, shit!" he curses. "Maybe I'll regret this later, but I want to break you so badly, Elizabeth." He wraps one hand around the back of my neck and before I know it, his hips are pressing against mine. My God! I can't move my hands and desperately stand on my toes as one of his lips touches mine and he kisses me. His lips soften beyond measure and I moan into his mouth as I taste the blood. His tongue explores my mouth and then my own glides over his. I slowly feel my way forward and then our tongues begin an erotic dance. He spins me around and pushes me backwards a few steps until my ass touches the edge of the desk. I can feel his erection against my stomach. Wow… it's explosive.

We are both breathing heavily when the kiss ends. "You're amazing and beautiful," he gasps.

Beautiful. The compliment brings a blush to my cheeks. Austin thinks I'm beautiful. I risk a glance into his glowing eyes.

"Have you ever been kissed by anyone?"

"No," I whisper back. I do my best not to sink into the floor with embarrassment. Well…maybe Bobby tried to kiss me once in high school…never mind. It was childish and not worth mentioning.

"How is it that no guy has knocked you out yet? I don't get it. Men must be crazy about you." Suddenly my mouth is numb. Austin runs his fingers down the back of my neck and twists my braid around his wrist, forcing me to look him in the eye. I suck in the electrifying air around us. He gives me a wolfish grin, and I promptly feel that strange tugging in my abdomen again.

"You really are pure, so perfect." His thumb glides over my lower lip. His words act like an accelerant on me; my blood boils. He leans down to me, kisses me passionately and sucks on my lower lip. I moan and he smiles against my lips. "How old are you, Elizabeth?" he then asks in a low, raspy voice and I frown at his curiosity.

Why does he suddenly want to know? I swallow and open my mouth. "I'm twenty-one, almost twenty-two."

Something dark flashes in his eyes that I can't place. "How old are you?" I ask before I can stop myself.

A shadow flickers across his eyes and he continues to trace my bottom lip. "Thirty-three."

Oh man! There are several years between us. I slowly pull my hands back and intertwine my fingers.

"I really should leave you alone. You're far too young for me. Far too beautiful and I shouldn't want to break you."

It's that little compliment again. It's the second time he's said that he thinks I'm beautiful. I try to hide my stupid grin. Do you hear me now? He wants to break you?. my inner voice is shouting at me. My subconscious raises its head weakly. At least it's still alive. It's been suspiciously quiet for the last few minutes. Where was it when I needed it?

"What happens if you stay?" I whisper and his breath catches. "What happens then?", I add.

He grins darkly. "I don't know if you're naïve or just inexperienced, but you're remarkably brave," he says, his voice hoarse.

His words encourage me. They set me completely on fire and I press myself closer to his body. My hand trembles as I lift it and slide it along his neck. Austin freezes at the touch and blinks about as fast as my heart beats. My eyes fall on his lips again and I blush. He kissed me with those lips…wow.

I take the next step and run my fingers from his neck to his cheek to his chin. The blond stubble feels surprisingly soft and I look at his slightly swollen lips. The blood has dried and a crust is slowly forming. My fingertips hover in the air and I hold my breath with a pounding heart as I touch his lips. "Does it hurt?"

I don't know who this hurts more. Him or me. Austin stands perfectly still, not making a move. Only his fingers twitch around my waist and send pleasant shivers down my spine. "Not really. I've had far worse injuries after a fight," he explains with a sphinx smile. He opens his mouth slightly and licks my fingertips with his tongue. I gasp and then it takes my breath away. Why is that so sexy?

"Would you feel better if you tended to my wounds?" he whispers, hitting the mark with his words. I would really feel better if I knew that nothing was wrong with him. Not really I mean…my inner goddess sleepily lifts her head as she realizes we're about to touch Austin again. Suddenly she is wide awake and full of energy.

I nod gently and he releases me with a confident grin. My breathing is shallow; I can't take my eyes off him. He grabs a first aid kit from the filing cabinet next to the couch and places it on the desk next to me.

"Ready?", he asks.

"Hmmm," I hum and he puts his hands on my hips. He lifts me up in a flash and sits me on the tabletop. I squeak and open my eyes. Now I'm almost at eye level with him and he smiles in amusement at my reaction.

I turn my gaze away from him and take the first aid kit in my hands. I open the zipper and examine the contents. There are plasters, bandages, cleaning cloths, gloves and… condoms. My cheeks flash deep red. It's not really much, but it will be enough. I press my lips together in concentration and think hard about what to start with. I've never treated anyone after a fight before.

"Clean first, then treat", he helps me out.

Then I expel the unconsciously held air from my lungs and grab a bottle of disinfectant. I pour some of the blue, alcoholic liquid onto a white cloth and hesitate, muttering, "It'll probably sting."

Austin's eyes twinkle in amusement. "Go on, babygirl. I can take it."

I dab gently over his forehead, his cheeks, and when I reach his lips, his hands suddenly settle on my thighs, clasping with gentle pressure. My movements stutter and he grins smugly. What a bastard!

I squint slightly and press the cloth against his lips harder than necessary, wiping away the dried blood. Austin hisses softly and now I'm the one smiling with satisfaction. Ha!

"I didn't know you could be sadistic," he teases, watching me put the cloth away and reach for some ointment. A wave of heat chases through my body again.

"I'm not," I contradict and demand: "Hold still", I command then.

The corners of his mouth twitch, but he holds still. I put a little ointment on my index finger and stroke his eyebrow, his left cheek and his lips. He breathes in loudly through his nose while I concentrate on my work.

"Just keep telling yourself that," Austin murmurs, and a feeling of hot lust flashes through me. He stands in front of me, looks me in the eye. He's so damn sexy.

I ignore his words and ask instead: "Have you been caught anywhere else?"

"I don't know." He shrugs and then whispers playfully, "But you're welcome to look, Elizabeth."

I gasp for air. He's clearly taking the piss.

"I'm serious, Austin."

His fingers twitch around my thighs again and squeeze lightly. His palms are warm and rough. Every slightest movement of his hands makes all the senses in my body sing on high alert.

"Me too, babygirl." His hands wander up my thighs and reach the hem of my dress. My heart stops beating.

"Do you have any idea how seductive you are, Elizabeth?" He lets his hands wander tenderly over my thighs and pushes the red, fluffy fabric up. I automatically spread my legs for him and he steps closer to me. "Do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you?", he adds as I whimper softly.

The muscles deep inside me contract deliciously. I would love to close my eyes, but the wild expression in his blue eyes hypnotizes me. Unpredictable waves of lust and darkness break in his eyes and I want to drown in them. He releases one hand from my thigh and I immediately miss the feel of his warm fingers there. But then he curves his hand half around my chin, half down my neck and leans in for a short, sweet kiss.

"Once you say yes, there's no going back," he whispers and as I realize he's not only offering me a warning, but also a way out of this messed up, heated situation, my nerves are completely shot. I breathe in and out frantically. I can almost feel the chaotic feelings - or is it the hormones? -that are coursing through my body. The voice of reason calls out to me and holds out its small hand. Ready to take flight with me, but I stare at Austin unblinking. I want him so much, even though all reason rebels inside me. I wrap my hands around his upper arms and feel his firm biceps.

His blond hair is tousled, his black shirt clings tightly to his chest - his blue eyes flash out at you. "Yes, please," I whisper. Honestly, I'm not sure what exactly I want from him. I'm just sure that I don't want him to let go of me and walk away.

"Please what?", he asks teasingly. His gaze is very intense, half in the shadows and half in the dim light of the office.

"Please kiss me, touch me, Austin." ...fuck me. As soon as the words have left my lips, he kisses me again. So wishes can come true after all.

He breaks away from me, his face only centimetres away from mine. "I'm not exactly known for being gentle, babygirl. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. You know that, don't you?" He sounds very serious, almost desperate, and his eyes are glowing. His words surprise me.

Who would have thought that this handsome, tough biker would care about my well-being. "I would never do anything I didn't want to." As soon as I get the words over my lips, I'm not so sure anymore. Right now, I'd probably do anything he asked of me. My answer seems to satisfy him, though.

"Show me!", I demand and the corners of his mouth twitch furiously. His lips meet mine again and the kiss is unlike anything I've ever experienced before. Not that there's much to compare it to.

He strokes the contours of my lips with his tongue and asks for entrance. I open my mouth and our tongues touch. A muffled moan escapes me and he intensifies the kiss. Then his lips leave mine and he breathes feather-light, moist kisses on my jaw and neck. When he starts to suck on a sensitive spot under my ear, I shiver.

"You react very intensely," he whispers huskily. "Your skin is so soft and you smell good," he adds.

Why does he say he can't be affectionate? His words make my arms and legs melt and heat rushes through my veins.

Austin lets go of my chin and grabs my own with his hand, pressing it to his chest. My fingertips twitch and I feel a surge of nervousness race through me. He wants me to touch him, it occurs to me, and I run my palm hesitantly over his bulging pecs. He pulls his head back so far that he can look at me and I breathe heavily. I avoid his gaze and continue to stroke his covered upper body. Despite the fabric, I can feel his warmth and the hardness of his muscles. Both his hands rest on my thighs again and this time he doesn't stop at the hem of my dress. He grips the hem and crumples the fabric in his fists, pulling it up until he catches a glimpse of my white lace panties. Luckily I'm wearing nice underwear!

"Fuck," he growls and licks his lips. "Your skin is flawless. I want to smell and taste you. and get you all dirty, baybgirl."

His uninhibited, rough words totally arouse me. I turn red. His dirty words are in stark contrast to his gentle touch. His fingers glide over the insides of my thighs and he spreads them wider. I'm putty in his hands. He exhales audibly and closes his eyes as he runs the knuckles of his right hand over the soft lace fabric. I gasp for air and my toes curl in my shoes. Oh…how can I feel that touch down there?

"I love delicate lace," he murmurs, pushing the red fabric of my dress further up and stroking the lace pattern of my panties with the fingers of one hand. His next kiss is demanding, his tongue and lips teasing mine. I cling to him and crumple the fabric of his black shirt. He presses his body against mine, pushing my upper body back until I'm lying half on the tabletop. One hand clasps my bare thigh, the other moves down my back to my waist and my bum. As he thrusts his hips forward, I feel his erection.

I let out a muffled moan and swallow his quick breath as he kisses me again. I carefully stroke his neck and hair. It is soft and yet unruly. I tug gently and he moans hoarsely. He runs one hand over my collarbone and pushes me down onto my elbows with the flat of his palm on my chest. The cold wooden board collides with my bare arms and sends shivers down my body.

I expect him to undress me, but he doesn't. He lets go of me, straightens up and sinks to his knees, grips both my thighs and pulls me jerkily towards the edge of the table. He's not going to, or? My inner goddess swings her hips in boundless anticipation, while a little voice in my head whispers doubts. However, I don't have time to get to grips with the chaos in my head. My legs float in the air and then they suddenly rest on his broad shoulders and I close my eyes, fluttering. He kisses the inside of my thighs and gently scratches my hip bone with his teeth. He gently nibbles and kisses his way from my left hip bone to my belly button and sinks his tongue there. I moan again.

Seeing him on his knees in front of me and feeling his mouth on my skin is unexpected and exciting. My whole body is on fire and the excitement comes over me in waves. I try in vain to control my loud breathing. He looks up at me with his blue eyes under his incredibly long eyelashes, kneads my thighs and licks his lips. His nose grazes my skin down there. Before I know it, he leans forward and pushes his nose between my thighs. I can feel him down there. His hot breath collides with my own warmth. Oh God!

"Hmmm…you smell so good," he murmurs, inhaling deeply. I let myself fall back onto the tabletop and chew my lip. Something seems to explode deep inside me.

He blows lightly against my covered centre and I shiver. "Ohh," I whisper and he chuckles. He spreads my legs wider and bends my knees upwards. I'm completely exposed and can't think a sensible thought as Austin drags his knuckles over my centre. Although the touch is light as a feather, I can feel the reverberations all the way to my abdomen. I press a hand to my mouth and gasp for air. Oh boy, that's intense.

When I briefly lift my head, there is a sensual expression in his eyes and he lowers his lips. His lips move over the thin lace of my panties and he growls. The vibration reverberates deep inside me. One of his hands grabs my briefs and pushes them aside, revealing me and then I feel his lips on my bare skin for the first time. I moan, feel the pulsation between my thighs and how wet I am. Please, I beg silently as one of his arms wraps around my stomach and stops me from wriggling around. I clutch his forearm and dig my fingernails into his skin.

"Have you ever touched yourself and brought yourself to orgasm?" he whispers smokily.

I try my best to sound offended. "Yes," I breathe breathlessly - but none of my touching has felt anything like what you do.

"Maybe one day I'll watch you rub that sweet little pearl and moan breathlessly."

In the depths of my foggy mind, the thought arises that I might even like it. To see him in front of me, half naked, and his eyes are only on me. That would be definitly something.

His lips open and with the next breath I feel his tongue. The tip of his tongue slowly and sensually circles my clit. His fingers part my labia and when he briefly lifts his head and blows against my wet centre, my body rears up. But Austin holds my hips in an iron grip and I sigh in sweet agony. He doesn't let up and continues his sensual assault.

"Now let me explore this litte thight hole." He strokes my entrance with one finger and I feel my muscles tense and pulsate down there. He pushes a finger inside me, again and again.

When he stops circling my clitoris and starts sucking lightly instead, my vision blurs and all my muscles tense up. Something knots in my stomach and I chase after a tingling flicker. His finger pumps into me at a steady pace, becoming more urgent as he adds another. A cry of pleasure escapes me as he speeds up.

"Please," I beg and throw my head back. My lips open and my legs tense and tremble.

"Let go, babygirl." His teeth scrape over my clitoris and he slides two fingers inside me. Just before he pulls them out again, he curves his fingertips and grazes a sensitive spot inside me. My eyes go black and I see stars. I cry out and freeze. The madness! I've never experienced anything like it.

My eyelids are heavy as I flutter them open again. He lifts his eyes and looks at me with a satisfied, dark grin. I return his smile shyly and am sure that I have just collided with the sun. I feel like Icarus who flew too close to the sun and got burnt.

I come down from my orgasm with a gasp. His hands glide over my thighs and he slowly rises from his knees. I prop myself up on my elbows and watch as he grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls the fabric over his head. Oh wow…Adonis and David's michelangelo can pack their bags next to him. Austin is outrageously hot. A light film of sweat glistens on his skin and I wander with his eyes over the peaks and valleys of his pronounced muscles. My mouth is watering and I'm suddenly overcome with the desire to taste him on my lips. I straighten up into a sitting position and reach out for him.

Excitement and triumph dance around in his gaze and he breathes heavily. "How was that?" he asks in a raspy voice.

I blink and think about what would be a suitable answer. Exciting, explosive… definitely world-shattering. "Good," I whisper back. He laughs and grabs my face with both hands. Then he kisses me and I taste my own arousal…it's dirty…and exciting…and feels far too good.

"You're killing me. How can you be so innocent?"" With his fingers he gently grips my wrist and directs my movements up his chest and along his ribcage, then down to his stomach and my fingers graze the path of blond hair disappearing under his waistband. I stare at the spot where our hands rest and widen my eyes as I see the bulge in his jeans.

I swallow hard and there's that promising, dangerous grin on his lips again. He lets go of my wrist and unbuttons his jeans, then pulls down the zip. I hold my breath. His palm is pressed against his erection and he closes his fist around his cock. I slide my fingers over his upper stomach muscles and they tense under my touch. It's a heavenly feeling to be so turned on. He pushes his jeans down and kicks his boots off his feet. Then he's standing in front of me in just black, tight-fitting boxer shorts and when his fingers slip under the fabric, I bite my lip. Tense excitement slowly builds up and watching him touch himself blows my mind… insane!

Austin takes half a step closer to me and wraps his other hand around my chin. I crane my head and sigh as he kisses me again. It's wild and hard on the edge of pain as he presses my head back and stretches my neck muscles. This time I feel braver and search for his with my tongue. He moans in surprise at my initiative into my mouth. I slide my hands further down his stomach and touch his forearm. He's still pumping his hard cock and I wrap my fingers around his forearm and wrist.

"Let me…" I stammer awkwardly. His muscles quiver under my fingers. "Show me how…"

He nods and pulls off his boxer shorts. My eyes widen. His cock is big. The tip is red and wet, and he grabs my hand again. "Keep your fingers loose, babygirl," he instructs me and I obey. When I look into his eyes, there's a lewd grin on his lips. I want to punch him in the face, but I'm too nervous and curious about what's going to happen next. He clearly enjoys my stunned expression and lays a quick kiss on my lips. It's smooth, wide and beautiful. I want to touch him, but I don't know how.

Austin leans down to my ear. His lips brush the sensitive skin there and I lick my lips in anticipation. Hm…all right.

He guides my hand towards his penis and whispers. "Close your fingers." I close my fingers into a fist and gasp. His cock is much harder than I expected in my hand, but also soft and warm. "First slow and firm," he whispers, moving my hand up and down, and his eyes shimmer like boundless oceans as he looks at me. He sets the pace for my movements. My mouth is slightly open, I lower my gaze and watch our hands glide up and down, mesmerised. It's fascinating how the wet tip of his cock keeps disappearing and reappearing between my fingers. I wonder what he tastes like?

"That's it, babygirl." He lets go of my hand and cups my face with both hands, then leans his forehead against mine and closes his eyes in pleasure. Seeing him where…aroused and out of control fires me up and I grow bolder. When he thrusts his hips forward slightly, I involuntarily tighten my grip.

A deep groan echoes from his chest. Ha! He likes it and a new, electrifying warmth spreads through my chest. It's a sound I'd like to hear more often. I remember Callie and the other girls talking about blokes and how they like it. So I speed up my movements a little and at the same time carefully slide my thumb over his glans. I watch his reaction carefully.

"Shit", he growls in a deep voice. Austin opens his eyes, and I repeat the slide of my thumb. I also start to twist my fist a little with the up and down movements and get another deep, hoarse moan from Austin. He's both hard and soft, like steel, covered in velvet, and when I switch hands, bringing my wet thumb to my lips, he tastes amazing, good, a little salty. While I'm not so sure about this flavor, one look at ihim and I don't care. Seeing him so aroused and wild is worth it.

Austin groans and thrusts his hips towards me more and more often. I continue with the twisting pumping movements of my hand. I feel powerful! My tiny little inner goddess is delighted with my skill. I can drive him crazy with my hand. Again I let my thumb glide over his tip and his hips jerk. "Fuck, babygirl and you've never done this before?," he growls and when I make a sign to lean forward, he shakes his head breathlessly.

I bite my lip and shake my head. "Never."

Why not? Before I can sulk, he whispers: "If you curve those pretty pink lips around my cock now, I'll come deep down your throat." I feel the muscles in his legs tighten and he breathes heavily as he closes his hand around my wrist, slowing my movements before pulling my fingers away from his cock.

My pulse quickens as he grabs the hem of my dress and pulls it over my head. Now I'm only wearing my white lace bra. "I'd much rather feel your tight little pussy around my cock when I come."

I shudder at his crude words and he flicks my bra open, slips it over my shoulders and as the cool room air brushes my breasts, my nipples harden. His fingers glide over my one breast as he kisses my neck. He rolls his thumb over my nipple and I feel a longing tug between my thighs. His lips leave wet kisses on my neck, my collarbone and when he cups my one nipple, I threaten to burst.

The next second he kisses me again passionately, completely wildly and wraps his arms around my back. He lifts me off the tabletop and stands me on my own feet. I cling to him with wobbly legs. But before I can wrap my arms around his naked torso, he turns me around so that my bare back touches his chest. He grab a condom package. What is he up to?

"You're really pretty, Elizabeth," he whispers and I shudder. His hands wander over my shoulders and down my arms. Then they rest on my hips, exploring the soft skin of my lower back, and when he slides one palm between my shoulder blades and presses me forward onto the ice-cold tabletop, alarm bells start ringing in my head.

He wants to take me from behind. I press my palms on the tabletop and push against him. His palm presses further into my back and I panic.

No!, my little inner goddess screams indignantly. This is not how she and I had imagined my first time. Part of me resigned myself some time ago to the fact that there would be no roses, candles and sweet words, but being taken from behind… hard, that's absolutely non-negotiable for me.

The echo of Austin's words reverberates through my head. I'm not exactly known for being gentle, babygirl.

I realize that if I don't say anything now, he will take me from behind. He's probably used to getting his way and the women he normally fucks have long since resigned themselves to not experiencing romance or expressing their desires. But I'm certainly no whore…I grit my teeth as he traces the contours of my ass with his fingers.

I feel his warm body firmly behind me and as his fingers slide between my thighs, I press my legs together, even though it feels damn good to be touched by him. I lift my head, "No!"

He pauses in his movements. "No, what?" Austin asks roughly.

I take a deep breath and think about what to say. "No," I repeat stupidly. "I don't want it like this. You're not going to take me from behind like one of your whores."

The pressure of his palm on my back finally disappears and I straighten up. When I turn around, there's an indefinable expression in his eyes and I swallow. He looks so lost; like I've slapped him in the face. Oh, Austin.

For a fraction of a moment, I can see through the walls he's built around himself. He frowns in confusion. Austin almost doesn't understand my objections, but then it hits me like a blow. How could he know otherwise? That's the way he lives, and it makes me a little sad.

It's the first time I've seen something like vulnerability flicker in his eyes. Austin seems speechless and overwhelmed. So if I want this to work, I have to do something.

I don't have any sexual experience, but I know what I don't want. That includes a hard fuck from behind. I sigh softly and wrap my arms around his chest. Then I stand on my tiptoes and lift my chin until my lips hover over his.

He finally wakes up from his stupor and presses his lips to mine. The kiss is different - somehow full of emotion and when he puts one arm around my upper back and the other around my bottom, I press myself against him. We are both breathing heavily when the kiss ends and he suddenly lifts me up. I automatically wrap my legs around his hips and he walks over to the couch. He sits down with me on his lap and his hard cock slides right between my labia. I freeze and shudder at the same time.

"Once you say yes, there's no going back," he mumbles and it feels like deja vu.

"Please take me," I whisper and press myself against his naked body. I don't know where the courage comes from, but I lean my cheek against his, lick the shell of his ear and rock my hips against his lap. "You're not going to break me right now, Austin," I add in a soft, gentle voice. Even though there are some doubts in my mind about that, I continue to encourage him. At least not immediately and completely, my little subconscious grumbles.

I dispel the unpleasant thoughts in my head and blow a kiss on his jaw. His hands glide over my back and within a breath he has spun us round and my back is pressed into the seat of the couch. I blink and shiver like a deer in headlights. So it's really happening. Bloody hell! Now I'm getting a little scared. I think of his big cock. How is that supposed to happen? How?

Austin pushes his knees between my thighs and leans over me. His arms are propped up next to my head and I stare up at him from below. My mouth is dry as dust and I whimper softly.

He slides one of his hands round the back of my neck and holds my head in place. As he lowers himself onto his elbow, our naked bodies touch and his hard pecs rub over my sensitive, hard nipples. I gasp and follow his words as he murmurs, surprisingly calmly, "Pull your knees up a little."

I look between our bodies and chew on my lip as the tip of his cock rubs over my clit and then slides along my labia. A pleasant muffled sound suddenly hums in my ears and I don't know whether it's me moaning or him. "Take a deep breath and relax, babygirl. I'll let it pass quickly."

I lift my head and take a shaky breath. I wrap my arms around his ribcage and press my fingers into his warm, firm skin in joyful yet anxious anticipation.

His glans slides further down and as he pushes his hips forwards a little, he finds my entrance. His blue eyes glow intensely and unyielding desire, lust and the devil of darkness dance a tango in them. I close my eyes and take another breath. Then he lowers his forehead against mine and whispers in a smoky voice, "I'm going to enjoy breaking you, Elizabeth. Quick and dirty until there's nothing left of you, babygirl." I open my eyes and he thrusts his hips forward, penetrating me deep with a single thrust.

The unaccustomed stretch burns and the feeling of being completely full squeezes all the air out of your lungs. I gasp for air and squeeze my eyes shut. A whimper escapes me and when Austin's fingertips twitch on my neck and he kisses my cheeks, I realise I'm crying.

"Ah, you're so fucking tight," he whispers and kisses me. All my muscles are tensed to the breaking point and only when his lips part and his teeth pull lightly on my lower lip does a little tension leave my body.

I'm out of breath and a ball of fire races down my spine and explodes between my thighs as he slowly pulls back and then slides back inside me. More fluid and deeper this time; I run my hands from his ribcage to his cheek to his hair. I bury the fingers of one hand in his unruly hair and tilt my head back as the burning sensation turns into a less urgent pain and subsides.

"That's it!" he praises me and slides out of me, only to penetrate me more firmly the next moment.

I press my lips into the crook of his neck and lick and suck at his skin. "Austin," I moan, overwhelmed.

"You take me so well, babygirl." He gyrates his hips and new sensations race through my body again. My toes curl and I wrap one leg around his hips. He sucks on my neck and scratches my sweaty skin with his mouth and teeth open. "You smell so good."

I melt under him. Why does he say he can't do the romantic thing?

Before I can follow the loose thread of thoughts in my head, he lifts his head and his eyes lock on me. His fingers slide from my neck to my throat and wrap around it. I blink at him under half-lowered lids and then his thumb slides over my parted lips and he grins wolfishly. His eyes darken as my hot breath hits his thumb and then something unexpected happens. The grip of his hand around my neck tightens. He squeezes the air out of me with controlled pressure. It's close to the pain threshold and I panic.

The corners of his mouth twitch devilishly and his eyes darken. He savours the hint of my panic and as I slide my hands out of his hair and around his wrist, he intensifies his gyrating hip movements. I groan again and notice a tingling sensation building in the depths of my muscles…just like before when he knelt between my legs. I swallow restricted by his hand and the grin on his lips darkens into something…more dangerous, more unbreakable.

In something that really scares me. Scraps of memories from the past few hours appear before my eyes. Austin's first grab for my wrist at the bar, then the gruelling back and forth of our gazes across the evening, to the fight with Benny, and his lips between my thighs.

Austin narrows his eyes and licks his pink lips. His thrusts alternate between fast, and slow and hard. Then he changes the angle of his hips, leaning from his elbow back onto his hand. He wraps his fingers around my neck a few shades tighter and I gasp slightly.

Panic flutters over my body and I try to squeeze my legs together. But with him between my legs and over my body, I hardly have a chance to defend myself or move. He enjoys my reluctance and takes pleasure in my burgeoning panic. Sick bastard!

"Yes," he grins devilishly. "Lose yourself in desire, babygirl." His thumbnail traces my lip and then slides into my mouth. My vision blurs and I suck on his thumb. He growls and suddenly there's no holding back. Austin speeds up his movements; sliding in and out of me, again and again with heavy breaths, and I melt beneath him.

The panic and my desire for redemption are close together. I can't keep the two feelings apart as they blur and send hot, cold shivers through me.

"You look so pretty underneath me," he whispers. "So fragile," he pushes hard again. "So wonderfully dishevelled," another hard thrust. "…and so fucking wet around my cock. Do you like that, babygirl?" His thrusts are hard on the edge of pain and as the tingling continues to brew in my stomach, spreading through my arms and legs, my eyes begin to water.

"Austin", I shout. Go easy on me, I beg silently. The grip of my hands around his forearm weakens and as he realises this, he loosens his vice-like grip and oxygen floods my airways.

I gasp and scream with pleasure as my orgasm approaches. "Come for me," Austin whispers, breathing heavily, and I burst into a million pieces. He thrusts hard a few more times until he comes too and pours my name into me, panting.

While I try to calm my racing pulse, my thoughts sink into chaos. Wow… that was amazing. That was… erotic and psychotic.

He lowers himself onto his elbows and presses his entire body weight onto me. He breathes loudly and heavily into the crook of my neck and I pull out my arms, which are now trapped between us, and wrap them around his neck. His muscles twitch under my fingers and he is still inside me. Then he lifts his head slowly and looks at me with a dark gaze. The unstoppable storm in his eyes has receded and for a brief moment I think I recognise something like warmth and tenderness on his face, but then he shuts up again.

Austin kisses me softly and then murmurs as he looks at me, "I've never seen soemthing that was so beautiful while I was breaking it."

It's strange that he says something like that. Basically, I don't feel broken, just cracked open. I swallow, barely comprehending his words. Austin has cracked my hard shell, and sticky, sweet infatuation oozes out of me.

He slowly slides out of me and I close my eyes. "Oh." I wince at the unfamiliar sensation and immediately wrap my arms tighter around his back as he try to stand up. "Please stay. Just a minute."

Confusion flickers in his eyes again, but he nods almost imperceptibly and lowers his face into the crook of my neck. To be honest, I don't know what I'm doing, but asking him to stay feels terribly intimate. Austin isn't the kind of guy you cuddle with, but a tiny spark of hope ignites in my chest as he relaxes over me and stays put.

I run my fingers through his slightly sweaty hair and enjoy the weight of his body on me. "Are you okay?" he asks, still hiding his face in the crook of my neck.

I hesitate and close my eyes. For a moment, I hush inside my body. A bittersweet burning sensation sets in between my legs now that the arousal has subsided and my muscles feel heavy. Tomorrow I will have sore muscles everywhere. A giggle escapes me and he lifts his head. I slap a hand over my mouth and mumble, "Sorry. It's just so ironic that you ask me that after you…well…choked me."

His blue eyes glow. "I'm well aware of that," he says dryly, lowering his gaze to my neck. His fingertips gently stroke the sensitive skin and I sigh silently. "Was I too rough? I know I can be pretty wild", he adds.

Pretty wild and hot. A little scary and controlling, but hot. I give him a gentle smile and kiss his jaw. "I'm okay, but thank you."

Now that he has cracked my hard shell, the feelings just bubble out of me. Butterflies are dancing around in my stomach and I know that things will only get worse from here on out.

I feel strangely cared for as he rubs his knuckles over my neck and whispers: "Your skin is so beautifully red from my hands." He drags his thumbnail across the edge of my chin and my toes tense. My body twitches beneath him and he grins triumphantly.

Then he leans towards me and kisses me tenderly. Just as I'm about to lose myself in his lips, he ends the kiss and makes an effort to get up.

That's it now, isn't it, I think disappointedly. No, that can't be all. My subconscious lazily lifts its little head and blinks at me. Where has it been for the last hour? It eyes me skeptically and shakes my shoulders. Pull yourself together, Elizabeth. Understand that he doesn't stand for romance. He's rough, wild and unrestrained. I grin mischievously at the thought.

I watch Austin stand up and reach for his boxers and jeans. He quickly puts them on and when he reaches for his shirt, I'm on my feet in a flash and pick it up off the floor. He gives me a wolfish, playful look.

"What are you doing, babygirl?" he asks, clicking his tongue.

I realize I'm still completely naked, and in another situation I'd be damn uncomfortable, but I try to stop him. At the ridiculous performance, my sense of honor props his face in his small hands and shakes his head. Fuck that! This can't be the end.

"I don't want you to go." The words pass my lips before I can stop them and his eyes widen.

Then he looks at me very seriously and comes towards me. He reaches out a hand and curls it around the back of my neck, forcing me to look at him. "I'm not staying the night-guy. I'm just not like that, babygirl," he states dryly.

Everything inside me roars. I know, I know. I press his shirt against my bare breasts with both fists. The bitter disappointment that he wants to leave and leave me alone hits me unexpectedly. Even though the sensible part of me had foreseen all of this.

"So you're done with me now after you broke me?" I sound more emotional than I should. I taste the bitter truth of my words on my tongue. Austin blinks at me, startled by my emotional outburst, and rubs the back of his neck with one hand.

"Don't do that. Don't make it so hard on yourself, Elizabeth," he murmurs. "You knew what you were getting yourself into. I'm not your prince in shining armor."

I squint my eyes. "Obviously." I sound hurt and biting. He takes a step closer to rip the shirt from my hands. I shake my head, barely noticing. I dare him to do that!

"So I'm only worth one fuck?" I then ask, suppressing the trembling in my voice with all my might. "Got it. that you won't take me out or love me, but do you have to be such a bastard. You just took my virginity and you're so - ah -," I mumble angrily, my tongue flicking out of my mouth. "…such a fucking bastard! Couldn't you at least have had the decency to cuddle me for a few more minutes?"

Austin grinds his jaw and his blue eyes flash emotionlessly. The hardness in his gaze makes my blood freeze in my veins. "It's better if you're angry with me. Hate me if you have to, but don't fall in love with me. You don't want me in your life," he makes it clear and rips the shirt from my hands.

Too late, I think.

"It scares you," I say, startled. As the words slip past my lips, his eyes widen and he freezes in front of me. Apparently I've hit the bull's eye. "You finally care about something in life besides your MC and now you're trying to push me away by being disgusting to me. Stop it, you son of a bitch!"

Austin growls. "No, you're wrong." He leans his lips so close to my ear that I can feel his warm breath on my skin. "That didn't mean anything to me with you. It was just a fuck."

My pulse quickens and I jut my chin out. Even though his words hit me hard, I blink into his eyes and murmur, "If it didn't mean anything to you, you can spend the night with me. It wouldn't change anything, right?" I raise an eyebrow defiantly, and the moment Austin inhales loudly through his nose and licks his lips, I know I've hit his sense of honor.

Maybe my provocation is pathetic and maybe I'm making a fool of myself because it really meant nothing to him, but in the way his muscles tense and the corners of his mouth twitch, I know I've found a vulnerable spot.

"Fine," he grumbles in a low voice. "As soon as the sun comes up, I'm gone. Come here." I can hardly believe my triumph and I stifle a squeak with all my might. His big hand clasps mine and pulls me towards him. "Lift your arms," he instructs me and pulls his muscle shirt over me. Then he picks up my panties and helps me into them. I watch him without comment and bathe in the tingling waves of my little victory.

He walks with me by the hand to the couch and lies down. His back is half leaning against the backrest and when he spreads his legs and pulls me between them, I almost trip over my feet. Austin wraps his arms around me and looks tense as I rest my cheek on his bare chest. I close my eyes and just before I fall into a dreamless sleep, I feel his fingers stroking my hair and a soft, husky voice. "Maybe you just mean too much to me."

Hey FELLAS ❤️

OMG, I can't even believe I wrote this emotional and steamy adventure! Please commet down below your thoughts and feedback! It would mean the world to me if you reblog the post, show it to your friends and community or like it 🫢

It would make me the happierst author in the world if you (my fave people) commet down belong.

tagging: @bloodynereid @obsessedvibee @avonne-writes @austinbutlermischief @austinbutlerslovers @hogans-heroes @sempervera @sagesolsticewrites

xoxo callumsgirl

114 notes · View notes

toomuchracket · 2 months

Text

lovers' quarrel (ross x girlband gf!reader angst)

day 5 of valentine's week. schedule clashes are getting to you. enjoy <3

you haven't spoken to your boyfriend in a week.

you're sleeping in the same bed as him, yeah, but ross is always asleep when you let yourself into his house at 11pm, body aching after a 12-hour day of dance rehearsals and video shoots and last-minute touch-ups to the instrumentals and harmonies and mixing on your band's new album. and you're always asleep when he leaves at 8am to drive to the studio to finish recording the new 75 LP (scheduled for release a month after yours), a kiss to your sleep-messy hair the only real bit of physical contact he gets to give you.

even your phone calls during studio breaks keep missing each other; you only hear your boyfriend's voice filtered through crackly phone lines, an obvious reminder that you're apart. in fact, the closest you've felt to ross in about eight days is when you use his body wash, in the freezing shower you take to soothe your screaming leg muscles before you get into bed with him.

you hate this. you miss him, so much.

ross misses you, too - he tells you at the end of every voicemail he leaves, paired with a “love you”, in such a defeated tone it brings tears to your eyes. you call him back, leave a similar message of your own, and go back into the rehearsal room and dance your heart out, as if it isn't breaking more with every passing second.

is this what life is always going to be like for the two of you, a loving relationship reduced to fleeting moments of getting to spend time with each other in between tours and shows and recording sessions and writing and promo? you're not sure how long you could take it, if it is.

but you love ross. so fucking much. surely you can do something to make it better for both of you.

the question is… what?

you're mulling over that on your lunch break, sat alone outside the studio complex with your tofu bowl and lucozade, thinking about how thursdays have always been the worst day of the week (double maths back in the day, and now the final full day of work left before you can actually maybe talk to your man for once), when the answer appears through the summer drizzle. well, actually, it's gabbriette who appears, dashing over to you from her (matty's) car and screeching as the rain hits her hair.

you laugh, standing and letting her barrel into your arms. “hi, wifey.”

“baby girl!” she kisses your nose. “you look gorgeous.”

“gabs, i've been dancing for three hours straight. i look like shit.”

“but hot shit. like, super sexy shit,” she grins. “how's everything going? do i get a sneak peek of the new video?”

you smirk. “depends. did matty send you down here to spy on us?”

gabbriette laughs. “he's too stressed to even think of suggesting anything that smart. no, actually, i'm just here to see how you're doing,” her beautiful face shifts into a more serious expression. “because when i asked your boyfriend how you were, literally thirty minutes ago, he very cryptically said he didn't know.”

“ah.”

“he did then explain that you guys hadn't broken up, but it scared me,” she squeezes your hand. “you okay? like, i know you're both so busy - george is literally pushing the guys to the limit in the studio right now - but…”

you sigh. “yeah, we’re just so busy that we keep missing each other, that's all - i get home when he's sleeping, he leaves before i wake up, and we're never free to call at the same time. like, i didn't even know that thing you just said about george, because we haven't talked for days,” you slide down the wall to sit, and gabbriette follows. you sniffle. “he sleeps right beside me, but i miss him like he's continents away. and i hate it, gabs, i really hate it.”

“oh, baby,” she puts her arm around you and kisses your head. “it'll get better soon, though, won't it? you finish here tomorrow afternoon, right?”

“yeah, but,” you wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie. “then the boys get to this manic stage i'm in now, then i have to do promo, and they have to do promo, and i just don't know when it'll end.”

“i know the feeling,” gabbriette sighs. “it's not easy, us being us, loving the people we do. but that's the way it is, i guess. we just gotta,” she half-heartedly punches the air. “push through it.”

“mmm,” you take a drink of your juice. “what i wouldn't give to just have dinner with him, you know? go somewhere nice for a night, and think about nothing but the two of us.”

your friend turns to face you. “so, why don't you? make a reservation for tomorrow night. surprise him when he gets home. clichè, but,” she winks. “i'm sure ross won't complain about coming home to you all dressed up and gorgeous. i know i wouldn't.”

you burst out laughing. “you're gonna lose your shit when we go inside and you get to see my album cover outfit, babe.”

“oh my god,” she presses her face into your shoulder, then sits up with a smile. “but seriously. i know you're exhausted, and so is he, but plan a date, have fun, make it a regular thing. you guys are perfect together; don’t let that slip away.”

“alright. thank you for the support,” you hug her. “i love you.”

“i love you, angel girl,” gabbriette pulls back and kisses your nose again, before standing and helping you up. “now, i am dying to see what you and the girls have been cooking up. shall we?”

you link your arm through hers. “let's go.”

***

when you hear the key in the lock, you brush down your dress a final time and hurry into the hallway. your heart skips at the sight of ross - clearly exhausted - stepping through the door; you can't keep the smile from your face, and one appears on his after he kicks his shoes off and turns towards you.

he exhales. “god, you're a sight for sore eyes. hi, love,” his arms open, and you run into them and allow yourself to be wrapped up in your boyfriend. “missed you this week.”

“missed you, too,” you nuzzle into his neck. “how are you, darling?”

“perfect, now that i've got you in my arms,” his smile is audible. “not letting you out of them for a second, by the way. need to catch up on holding my girl.”

you giggle. “what about dinner?”

“i can eat pizza with you on my lap on the sofa, can't i?”

oh. your heart feels slightly heavier than it did a second ago. “that's… what you want to do for dinner?”

you do your best to keep your voice light, but ross doesn't miss a trick. he pulls back, frowning slightly. “yeah. something calm, after us both being so busy this week,” he seems to notice your dress for the first time, brow furrowing even further when he takes in your polished appearance. “but that's not what you want, is it?”

“well, baby,” you let go of him, wringing your hands nervously. “i’ve, um, made a reservation at that place you like down the street. for tonight.”

ross pinches the bridge of his nose. “why would you do that, sweetheart?”

your jaw falls open. what? “oh, i just thought it might be nice to go out. save us doing the washing up,” the joke falls flat, but you clear your throat and continue. “and, you know, i’m home now, not coming in exhausted at midnight or whatever, for once, and i-”

“oh, okay,” ross laughs mirthlessly, and your blood runs cold. “just because you're not tired, i should forget my own tiredness and force myself to go out for an overpriced meal i don't even want to eat right now? just because?”

you don't think you've ever felt smaller in your life, and your voice shows it. “no, i just thought-”

“exactly. you just thought, about yourself, not me,” ross hangs up his jacket, shaking his head. “i mean, really, love? you of all people know what it's like, burning yourself out in the studio every day. is it really so surprising that i wanted to come home, to my own house, and just spend the night there?”

something inside you just snaps, and your next words shoot from your lips like bullets. “no, i fucking know the feeling, ross,” you glare at him when he turns to look at you, slight shock on his face at your sudden aggression. “66 hours i've worked, this week, across five days, and at the end of every single one of them i've wanted nothing more than to go straight home to my flat and collapse onto my bed. but d'you know what i've done instead?” you laugh, manic. “i've driven here and stayed with you, because i thought that even if we couldn't spend time together properly, at least we were with each other in some way. and you can't even be nice about the fact i wanted to do something special for us tonight. because, yeah, i was thinking about us when i did it.”

ross looks at you for a second, then shrugs. “well, i didn't ask you to do any of it.”

you nod, biting your trembling lip. “right,” you squeeze past him, picking up your handbag from the console table. tears prick at your eyes as you open the front door. “enjoy your fucking pizza, then.”

a sob escapes your lips as the door slams behind you, tears hitting off the steps as you hurry down them towards your car. with shaking hands, you rifle through your bag to find your keys, unlocking the door and climbing inside so you can cry in peace and figure out where to go. you half-expect ross to follow you, knock on the window, apologise… but nothing. the front door stays closed. even the blinds in the front room don’t move.

you're tempted to wait to see how long it would take him to come after you. but it's not a great look for you to be sitting outside his house in tears, and - to be honest - you don't really want to see him right now, anyway. you need to go somewhere. not your flat, because that's the first place he'd look for you - if he even decides to bother, that is. no. you need to go somewhere else, be with other people, people who love you. but not your bandmates, because that would be ross's next point of call.

and then, it hits you - gabbriette. you scroll through your contacts until you find her number, and hit call; what you don't expect, however, is for her boyfriend to answer. “hi, darling!”

“oh, hi, matty,” you sniffle. “did i dial you? i thought i'd called gabs.”

“no, you did, she just got me to answer because she’s making dinner,” he replies, his girlfriend audibly yelling in greeting in the background. “speaking of dinner… i thought you and ross were meant to be out right now? everything alright?”

you don't say anything in response, just burst into tears down the phone. matty sighs. “oh, fuck. come over, darling. i'll open the wine now.”

“thank you,” you say between sobs. “i'll see you in a bit.”

when you get to his house twenty minutes later, you reckon the two of them must have been standing at the door waiting for you; as soon as you ring the bell, it opens, and you're enveloped into a group hug so tight you can't tell who's who.

matty kisses your head when the hug ends. “just wanna say,” he begins, passing you a ridiculously large glass of red wine. “that while ross is my best friend, he will hear nothing of what's about to be said tonight. so… yeah. rip him to shreds.”

“oh, i intend to,” gabbriette squeezes your hand. “he came home to you looking like that and he didn't wanna go out with you? stupid boy.”

you wince. “gabs…”

“sorry, sorry. but i'm right,” she turns to matty. “don’t you think, baby?”

he nods. “he's an idiot,” something beeps in the kitchen, and gabbriette squeaks and runs towards it. matty puts an arm around you. “come on. we'll have a seat, and you can tell us everything.”

“okay.”

and you do just that, settled next to matty on the kitchen counter so gabs can hear and react while she cooks; you aren't quite sure you'd be able to make it through reliving the argument without the plates of focaccia she keeps laying on your lap, to be honest. anyway - both of them react quite accordingly to your story, dropped jaws and wide eyes and utterances of “he said that?” punctuating your words.

matty shakes his head when you finish talking, putting a hand on top of yours in a brotherly way. “i'm sorry, darling. he can be a moody bastard at times, i know, but that's… that's awful.”

“i get that he's tired and he didn't want to go out,” you sigh, taking a drink of your wine. “but he didn't need to make me feel like a stupid bitch for suggesting it,” you well up again. “and now i don't know where i am with him.”

“oh, baby,” gabbriette runs over to kiss your hair and hug you. “listen, you'll stay here tonight - we'll have a good time, talk shit, have some wine, and then we can figure your love life out tomorrow. cool?”

you look between the two of them, nervous. “i don't want to intrude…”

“oi, none of that,” matty squeezes your hand. “what kind of brother would i be if i didn't take of my little sister?”

“love you, mate,” you hug him, then turn to gabs. “both of you.”

“and we love you,” she kisses your cheek. “me more than him. seriously, i love you so much.”

matty laughs. “she’s right, actually,” he says to you. “came home raving about the sneak peek of the album she got yesterday,” he looks at you pointedly.

you roll your eyes. “fine, i'll tell you about it.”

“fuck yeah!”

you're still telling them all about the album and its processes when ross makes contact, almost two hours after you left his house. matty's phone rings, the contact photo (an old selfie of the two boys) visible to all three of you; the atmosphere changes from buzzy to sombre when you see it.

matty looks at you. “i don't have to answer it if you don't want me to.”

you look at the buzzing phone, the picture of your boyfriend on the screen filling you with a weird mix of emotion. “no, it's ok.”

“you sure?”

you nod. “if he asks where i am, you can tell him,” you murmur, looking at the floor. “i don't want him to worry.”

“right, darling,” matty takes your hand, and picks up his phone with the other. “alright, mate?”

gabbriette hugs you as ross speaks, inaudible to you; you're thankful for her support, because your stomach's in knots waiting for matty to reply. his eyes flick to yours, nervous. “yeah, she’s here,” he says, squeezing your hand. “she’s alright now, but… she really wasn't when she first arrived. surprised she managed to drive here, to be honest - that's how upset she was.”

you chew your bottom lip as ross says something else. matty quirks his eyebrows. “depends if your girlfriend wants to see you or not, mate.”

gabbriette squeezes you tighter. you shrug, and mouth “need to get it over with anyway”; matty grimaces, and relays the message to your boyfriend. “she's not opposed. but,” he shifts in his seat. “don't expect a warm welcome. that includes from me, too - it's none of my business, and i love you, but seeing my friend cry like that was fucking heartbreaking. i can't believe you could be so cruel.”

god, you love your friends.

you smile as matty wraps up the call. “yeah, i can imagine you feel awful about it; i'd be worried if you weren't. and yeah, i'll tell her, alright?” he gives you a thumbs up. “see you soon.”

“he's on his way?” you ask once the call ends.

“he went to yours. freaked out when you weren't there. so, he'll be here in five,” matty looks at you tentatively. “and i've to tell you he's extremely sorry and also that he loves you more than anything and finally that he’s a cunt for what he said.”

“i coulda fuckin told you that last bit,” gabbriette mutters. she smiles at you, though. “but the other bits are, you know, promising.”

“yeah,” you murmur. “shall we go and wait for him, then?”

she kisses your cheek. “if that's what you want, sure.”

true to his word, ross knocks the door five minutes later; you sit on the stairs in the hallway, gabs in front of you protectively (at her insistence), while matty answers. “hi.”

“alright?” ross's face isn’t properly visible from the angle you're at, but you can hear from the scratchiness of his voice that he's been crying. it hurts you to think about that. “can i come in?”

matty nods, stepping back to let him in. ross follows, an awkward dance, and immediately sees you. his face crumples. “hi, love.”

you wave. you're not sure if you can speak.

ross looks at gabs. “can i, um, talk to my girlfriend alone for a second?”

she turns to you. “you cool with that?”

you nod. she kisses your cheek and stands, staring ross down as she walks over to matty and they leave the room. once they've gone, ross flinches. “has she always been so scary?”

“you would be exactly the same way if she hurt matty,” your voice is hoarse, your crying just as obvious as your boyfriend's.

“yeah, s'pose,” ross takes a tentative few steps towards you, gesturing towards the stairs. “can i sit?”

“mhmm.”

“thanks,” he takes a seat on a step a few down from you, turning so he can talk to you properly. “i'm sorry, love, i really am. and i don't really have an excuse for being such a dickhead, other than tiredness, which isn't even an excuse because you've been more exhausted than i am and you still made the effort to do something nice for both of us,” he takes a shaky breath. “you look beautiful, by the way, even now; slightly off-topic, i know, but i just had to say it.”

“thanks,” you say quietly, picking at your cuticles. “thought you'd like this dress.”

“i love it,” ross smiles sadly. “i love you. and the fact that i hurt you… i feel fucking terrible about it,” his lip trembles. “i love you more than anything, or anyone, and i don't want to lose you. the thought of it fucking terrifies me, and,” he begins to cry, and your heart aches. “i worry that i'm not enough for you. i worry that i don't do enough for you, take you out enough. i worry that you'll get bored of me, bored of making all the effort, bored of sitting at home watching football or films, and one day you'll just leave me.”

what?

“oh, ross,” your heart shatters, and you scooch down to sit next to him and hug him.

“m'sorry, i know i'm the one in the wrong, but i have to be honest,” he cries into you. “when you said you wanted to go out instead of stay in, i freaked that i was boring you. and then when you brought up staying at mine instead of yours…”

“you thought it was me saying i was fed up.”

“yeah.”

“oh, baby,” you start to cry, too. “no. it was me just being pissed about you trying to say i didn't know the feeling of wanting to go home when you're tired. i didn't mean it in any other way, honest.”

“no, i know, my love. i was just scared.”

“why, though?” you look him in the eye. “you're the love of my life, ross. you're more than enough for me - everything i need, and more.”

he sniffles. “did you mean to quote beyoncé there, or…?”

“well, no, but it was apt,” you giggle, stroking his dimples when he smiles. “look, i was hurt by the way you reacted to me - an ‘oh, that's nice, love, but could we go out tomorrow night instead?’ wouldn't have gone amiss. but,” you kiss his nose. “i accept your apology, and i love you and our relationship very much, just as they are. just don't ever fucking treat me like that again, alright?”

“i promise you i won't, love,” ross kisses your nose in return. “i love you. and i'm sorry i was a grumpy shit about dinner, because i'm fucking starving now.”

you laugh, kissing his neck. “i reckon gabs has got us covered there. but if not,” you grin. “we can always get a pizza.”

“you're never letting me live that one down, are you?”

“not a fucking chance.”

#mads muses #mads does writing #valentine75 #girlband gf #ross macdonald fanfic #ross macdonald fanfiction #ross macdonald fic #ross macdonald angst #ross macdonald x reader #ross x reader

123 notes · View notes

honeybeezgobzzzzz · 3 months

Text

🗡️ Something Dread, Something Red: Chapter Nine

Something Dread, Something Red: Stuck in a proposal to a Marine Commodore, you escape minutes before your wedding in one last ditch effort to avoid getting married to a tyrant. Barely making it to the port of your town, you stumble across a ship just starting to leave and beg for passage off the island. You fail to notice that the people you beg for help, are pirates.

Warnings: Confused Thirsting.

To Note: “Red Haired” Shanks x FemReader

Word Count: ~3.2k

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Ingles was three days behind the Red Force and bright open skies were stretched ahead. So you had grabbed Cerise’s soup and stew book and found a nice place to sit on the deck of the ship while the men roughhoused and goofed off. The sun felt nice on your face and the slight breeze kept the air from feeling too hot. While you had intended on spending the morning studying Cerise’s cook book to bolster your cooking knowledge, you had instantly gotten distracted the moment swords came out.

Slowly lowering the book in front of your face, you peered over the edge as Benn and Limejuice sparred with each other with live steel. Good gods, someone was going to get hurt! You blanched at the pair, wincing every time steel clashed and sharp echo permeated the calm day.

“Better get used to it, Aria,” Hongo’s voice came from off to your left, and glancing at him, you saw him watching the pair of men. “This is pretty normal for us, we held off on it because we didn’t want to shock or upset you. But you seem to have adjusted and they were itching to get some practice in.”

“I’m not in shock or upset, I’m worried they are going to hurt each other,” You snorted indignantly. “They’re using live steel and we are on a ship that constantly moves. What happens if someone get’s cut or worse?” Hongo shrugged with a lazy smile. Of course you wouldn’t be upset by them practicing! You just didn’t want them to get hurt.

“Think about it, we’re pirates,” He stated, returning his eyes to Benn and Limejuice. “Knowing how to wield a blade on a ship is pretty damn important in our line of work. We get used to the motions and if someone does get hurt… well, I’m around and they know how to take a cut.” You still didn’t like the idea of them getting hurt by sparring like this, but you could understand the need for practice and the practicality of practicing in the same conditions they might find themselves in. So you took to watching them.

Every single one of them moved with grace and skill, they clearly had several years under their belts to hone the fine skill of wielding a blade. The sharp ring of metal on metal was not bothering you as much as it had in the beginning and you actually found enjoyment watching them as long as you ignored the little nicks and cuts they gave each other. Then the shirts came off.

Naturally they were going to get hot and work up a sweat working out and sparring, but you hadn’t been expecting them to just whip off their shirts and continue where they left off. You’d nearly snorted the water you were sipping when Bonk Chonk had whipped his own shirt off without even bothering to pause his spar with Gab. You had been slack jawed for approximately a minute before realizing that this was normal for them, and you probably shouldn’t be to worried about it. So you got over the fact that you were watching grown men with no shirts spar with live steel… until Shanks joined in on the fun.

Now, you had absolutely no problem watching the men spar shirtless, they were like older brothers to you at this point. But Shanks? Your jaw dropped open the moment he had his own shirt off and you were very lucky that Cerise’s cook book was blocking your mouth otherwise the entire crew would have seen you gawking at Shanks. When you finally managed to snap your mouth shut again, you swallowed thickly and took at least a minute to appreciate what a beautiful man Shanks was. He was appropriately tanned from sailing the Blues, not to deep but not to light, had well defined muscles that clearly indicated lifting you over his shoulder with his only arm was effortless to him, and an overall body that clearly indicated that he took good care of himself.

In your eyes, he was perfect in every way.

Your eyes stayed glued to the captain as he pulled out his own sword and loosely batted away a few strikes from Benn. It should be heavily noted that while Shanks was one armed and using his non dominant one to parry the blows to his person, his own blade moved with such refined grace that it looked like the red haired man was barely putting any effort into it! You found yourself entranced and unable to tear your eyes away.

Benn and Shanks moved about the main deck, exchanging light hearted jibs at each others form and playing on each others age. Benn was fifty, but to you he moved with the suave grace of a twenty year old. Surprising, but at the same time, not at all. With the way the men lived, their bodies were in a constant state of work. They didn’t let themselves get lazy because one simply couldn’t be lazy sailing the Blues. Shanks was thirty nine, and that did surprise you.

He had the refined looks of a mature adult, but not one almost going on forty. To you he almost seemed like he was in his early thirties, not late thirties. He was also laid back and fun, you hadn’t ever encountered an adult his age who wasn’t crotchety, asinine, or just plain mean. Another reminder that you had missed out on so much being confined to Bonn Manor. Your mind strayed from old memories, distracted by the trickles of sweat carving paths along tanned skin.

You grew rather envious of those little trails running along smooth skin and beautifully crafted muscle. Perhaps not envious, jealous might be a better word. You wanted to trace those paths to find out if Shanks muscles were truly as sculpted as they appeared to be. Your fingers twitched at the idea of them running along warm skin, following dips and curves. Oh it would be even better if it were your tongue… Freezing in place, you let out a strangled noise in the back of your throat and proceeded to smack Cerise’s cook book against your forehead as your face and neck rippled with unbearable heat.

For the love of the All Blue, Linaria! Get control of yourself!

Unfortunately for you, your noise and sudden face smack hadn’t gone unnoticed and the crew was now looking at you in concern.

“Aria?” Shanks called out, lowering his sword and worrying that something was wrong. The last three days had gone so well and he hated to have something happen now.

“I’m jealous!” You blurted out without thinking and the moment your brain caught up with your lips, mortification soon took residence within your body. Why did you say that!? You were going to burn up right in that seat, reduced to a smoldering pile of bone and ash. What you did not expect, was for the men to start laughing at you.

“Don’t be jealous, I’m sure you just have ta’ bat your eyes at Shanks all nice and pretty like, and he’ll give you some pointers on how to wield a sword.” Yasopp called, doing a fancy trick with his sling shot. For a few precious moments, you didn’t quite understand what the sniper meant… then it came to you. They thought you were jealous of them knowing how to use a sword! Relief flooded your body, but the fiery burn of embarrassment over your rather naughty thoughts lingered. Slowly lowering the book from your forehead, you eyed each of the men while trying not to openly gawk at Shanks and his unfairly handsome state.

“I don’t bat my eyes,” You huffed with a grumble. There was another round of laughter and Shanks took pity on you, sheathing his sword and walking over. “You all are terrible, I hope you realize that.”

“They’re just teasing you,” Shanks said with a teasing smile of his own. He leaned against the deck railing next to you and observed your body language. Something had embarrassed you, he could sense the heat pooling beneath your cheeks and neck, but knew that it was a far better choice to pretend that your embarrassment did not exist. “Though Yasopp is technically correct.” You glared at the red haired man, your embarrassment quickly trickling away. Shanks gave you a curvy smile.

“I’m not batting my eyes at you, just so we are clear,” You retorted, rolling your eyes and hugging the cook book to your chest.

“Shame, I rather like your eyes,” Shanks replied, leaning in a little closer to look at your eyes. They were indeed a beautiful color, one that complimented the tone of your lavender hair. Your face and neck started to warm up again. Seas give you mercy this man had no idea what he does to you. You don’t even know what he does to you!

“So about learning how to use a sword?” You broached, trying to steer your mind and the conversation away from Shanks’ body. Find your reason Linaria. Shanks’ lips twitched.

“I’ll teach you, it’d probably be better for you in the long run.” Shanks admitted, running a thumb beneath his lips. “But not when the men are sparring. They sometimes get carried away.”

“I can see that,” You said, eyeing Building Snake who had a laceration that Hongo was lecturing him about keeping clean. “This is part of your routine, and they seem to enjoy it. Please don’t let my presence alter that, I’m not going to flop in a faint because Limejuice and Gab decided to settle a wager via a sword fight.” Your frank words had Shanks’ smile stretching wider as he chuckled.

“You sure?” Lucky asked, rubbing the back of his head. He was used to doing all the cooking on board the Red Force, so you stating that you were going to be more proactive around the ship by fixing meals for the crew was a little odd. Well, you had already forced your way into helping him to feel useful, and clearly something had changed in the three weeks you’d been on board.

“Quite so,” You answered before lofting up one of Cerise’s cook books. “I’ve come armed and ready, and need some practice.” Lucky squinted at the book, almost not believing what his eyes were telling him.

“Wait a minute, is that one of—”

“Cerise’s cook books? Yes, yes it is,” You stated calmly. “She gave me a couple to learn how to cook while sailing.”

“But those books are like the holy grail to Cerise, I spent an entire summer beggin’ for just a look at one and didn’t even manage that.” Lucky complained, wondering how you had managed to get the old woman to give you not just one cook book, but several! The cook decided then and there that you must have some sort of magical gift. “Well if it’s one of Cerise’s recipes, and she gave you her books, you must have impressed her. What were you thinking?”

“Her autumn stew with jerky,” You explained, opening the book up to the page with the recipe on it. “I noticed that a lot of the ingredients you stocked up on in Ingles matched up with this recipe and I’ve never had jerky before so I figure it would be a good start.”

“Oh that stew?” Lucky asked, bouncing in place at the idea of having Cerise’s famous autumn stew with jerky for dinner. It’d been at least a year since he and the crew had tasted it. “The boys’ll eat it up! Probably won’t have leftovers but that’s why we stock up on food.” You beamed at Lucky, glad that he was on board with your plan.

“Great! Just keep them away from the kitchen, I know they like to snack on bits and pieces of stuff while you cook and I will not allow that in my kitchen.”

“Your kitchen?”

“Yes,” You stated. “If I’m cooking, it’s my kitchen. No snacks, no hovering, no ‘is dinner ready yet’!” Lucky let out a slow drawn sigh.

“You really do know us, don’t you.”

“I’ve spent the last three weeks watching all of you. It wouldn’t have been very smart of me to not pick up on your quirks and habits. Additionally, you are men.” Lucky gave you a hurt look and you simply raised your eyebrow in challenge, for nothing you had said was technically wrong. “Now then, where did the jerky get stored? We need to get that soaking…”

You were proud to say that the smells coming from the kitchen had many of the men coming to investigate. However, much to their great disappointment, Lucky Roux kicked them out before they could question what was for dinner. You were busy reading through the cook book yet again while the stew simmered on the stove and barely gave the investigative men any mind. Cerise had handwritten several notes in the margins of her cookbook giving high quality tips and tricks the she had learned over the years.

Such tips included how to pick out the best produce for this recipe, how long it would stay fresh in the fridge, and what cuts of meat were best for making jerky. Making jerky wasn’t exactly something you ever thought you would want to know, but the more you thought about it the more you realized that jerky had a long shelf life and was good for the seas. Then again, you didn’t even know if you liked jerky! Your eyes flickered away from the book to the few bits of jerky left on the counter.

“Small bites, just incase you don’t like it,” You mumbled to yourself before reaching over and snatching a small piece of jerky. Looking at the small piece of red meat, you smelled it and shrugged, its smell was surprisingly good. Nibbling on the edge of the jerky, you were pleasantly surprised by the intense meat flavor. Rather than take another nibble, you simply ate the rest of the piece, savoring the flavor and rather exciting prospect of sneaking something behind Shanks and Hongo’s back. Giggling to yourself, you reached for Lucky’s special spoon and gave the bubbling stew a stir.

“The men are getting restless,” Lucky announced, shooing away Benn for what had to be the fifth time in the last hour. He peered at the stew and felt his own stomach rumbling. Just by the smell he knew that there wouldn’t be a drop of soup leftover.

“Fifteen minutes,” You said, running the spoon through the stew and checking the consistency. Oh yes, fifteen minutes should be more than enough for the stew to come together. “Youmight as well tell them to wash up, I swear I can hear them drooling.” The cook did as you bade, chuckling at your words because the men indeed were drooling.

While you had a moment alone in the kitchen, you grabbed a small spoon from the kitchen drawer and dipped it into the stew. You were fairly sure that by the smell alone, you hadn’t made anything horrendous, and you had followed Cerise’s instructions to a t, but you didn’t want the men to eat anything you cooked without tasting it first. Blowing on the small spoonful, you tentatively looked at the spoon before sticking it in your mouth.

Oh.

By no means did you think the stew was anything special, certainly if you had made it… but you were pleasantly surprised by how nice it tasted and how delicious the fresh vegetables had turned out. Of course the flavor of the jerky was there, but the dried meat had softened up to a texture that was only slightly chewy. Pleased that your first ever dish had come out well, you ladled some of the stew into a small bowl to eat before the men came along and ate everything in sight.

Bowl in hand, you squirreled yourself away the corner of the kitchen and delicately ate your portion as the men filed into the kitchen (at least in a somewhat orderly manner) to get their share of dinner. Shanks was last to grab a bowl, which he always did so intentionally, and eyed you.

“You get enough to eat? The men have been driven crazy by the smell and I doubt there will be any leftovers.” He spoke, serving himself up a bowl and grabbing a spoon. You had been surprisingly absent the last two and half hours, usually this time of day you liked to be out on the deck to watch the shimmering sunset. “Are you going to come out on deck with the rest of us men or has the drooling turned you away?”

“Oh I’ve had enough, stomach is still quite small and it’s very filling,” You reassured Shanks with that gentle smile of yours he loved. “I’m just writing some notes down before I forget, I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“I hold you to that, madam, as your company has been greatly missed this afternoon,” Shanks stated with a half smile and a teasing gleam in his eyes. You giggled further and turned your attention back to Cerise’s cook book. She had said that you could try adding your own variations to things, after you had made the recipe as it was intended the first time. You were thinking about how to stretch the food made on the ship, and a great many of the recipes you’d tabbed through in Cerise’s other cook books had main dishes over variations of potatoes.

You wrote down your last thoughts, making sure that you wrote down the nuances and taste profile of the stew. While you had initially intended to learn how to cook to be self sufficient, you found that you enjoyed the task and wanted to work on the skill more than just for survival. Tucking the book away in a safe place, you wandered out to the main deck while humming beneath your breath. The moment you appeared on deck, the chatter of the men ceased and you found all eyes on you.

“Something wrong?” You asked, your eyebrow rising while you looked around.

“When did you learn how to cook?” It was Bonk Chonk that spoke. You blinked and tilted your head to the side.

“Three days ago, why?”

“Bloody hell you’re a lucky man,” Limejuice complained, much to your confusion as the rest of the crew nodded with equal groans.

“Well at least we get to enjoy it for now, because this is life changing,” Hongo muttered before diving back into his dinner. Nods went around and they all resumed eating, leaving you in a state of confusion.

“Come on, you’re missing the view,” He said, guiding you by the elbow to the perfect view of the fading sunset. You looked up at his face with your eyebrows scrunched.

“What was that about?” You questioned, really not understanding what the pirates had been talking about. Shanks shook his head and was grateful that you didn’t understand their subtle quips.

“They’re just being themselves, Aria, never mind them.” He reassured you, making a mental note to tell the men to back off on the comments. The last thing any of them wanted was to scare you off.

Date Published: 1/25/24

Last Edit: 1/25/24

Previous | Masterlist | Next

#red hair shanks #shanks x reader #one piece shanks #shanks x you #red haired shanks #shanks

87 notes · View notes

formulalfc · 3 months

Note

a blurb on trent and you moving in together and you’re moving across the world to his place.. so the day you fly to the uk you’re all over the place, a bit sad and sobby about leaving your family… you’re happy you’re gonna be living with the love of your life but you still feel a bit emotional.. and trent i think would feel so bad that you’re the one who has to leave and sacrifice a lot for your relationship and he’s being the best, most comforting boyfriend from the airport till you reach your new place

“welcome to our home, baby”

no i actually need a full short fic on this

Welcome Home

Trent Alexander Arnold x Reader

tw-none i don't think

When you saw your boyfriend at the airport, you couldn't help but run straight into his arms, smiling widely at the feeling of being back in your lover's arms. "I missed you" was whispered into your shoulder where he had tucked himself into your neck, breathing in your scent after being apart for some weeks now.

When you let go of each other Trent grabbed one of the bags you travelled with and threw it over his shoulder, gabbing your hand quickly afterward as he couldn't stand to be too far from you. You guys made your way through the airport, your boyfriend keeping his head down to avoid any unnecessary attention.

When you got to the car he packed your cases into the boot before climbing into the driver's seat, giving your hand a squeeze before he started the drive home.

You spoke about different things, your journey, when the rest of your belongings would be arriving, and how excited you were to finally be living with your boyfriend. Trent stole glances at you when he could, admiring the awe on your face as he drove, you had been to Liverpool before but you had never been able to take in the sights properly.

When he pulls into the driveway you're practically buzzing with excitement, unclipping your seatbelt and moving to the back of the car to help take your bags in. You guys get your bags in pretty quickly, leaving them in the hallway to take them up later.

You had been to Trent's house before but you walked around getting yourself familiarised with your surroundings again, you went into what you remembered to be Trent's gaming room to see that it was empty, so you called him in.

"Baby where did all your gaming stuff go?"

"Oh, i moved them into another room so that you have your own room to do what you want with, we can put an office in there for you or do whatever you want."

You were completely gobsmacked, "but baby it's your house you don't need to move your things for me."

"Baby this is OUR house and i'm happy to move my gaming things so that you can have your own space, relationships are about sacrifice and this is your space now as well so don't stress honey."

You pout your lips at his cuteness, giving him a kiss and a thank you before he pulls you out of the room and into the hallway.

You are both trying to figure out a way to get all of your things to where they need to go when you spot your childhood teddy on top of your bag. And all at once everything hits you, the fact that you've moved halfway around the world and you can't just drive down the road to see your parents anymore. You can't just message your brother and ask if he wants to go to lunch with you and bitch about some girl you went o high school with.

And you burst into tears.

Trent looked at you completely startled at your outburst but quickly gathered you into his arms, shushing you and stroking your hair to try and calm you down. You were trying to apologise to him but you couldn't get the words out and so you just ended up sobbing harder into his chest.

After a while you manage to calm down, wiping your eyes and catching your breath, and trying to avoid meeting Trent's eyes as an overwhelming sense of guilt overtook you.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get so upset I think everything just hit me at once," you tried to apologise.

Trent's heart broke at your admission, feeling responsible for taking you away from your life back home, "it's okay to be upset baby, you've made a big move and its gunna be a bit overwhelming at first but i'm going to be here for you and make it as easy as i can okay baby?"

You feel your eyes water again at his kindness as you nod your head to him. He spent the rest of the evening trying to make you as comfortable as possible, cooking you your favourite meal and putting on a film he knows you love.

And you knew that no matter how much you missed your old home, as long as you were with Trent it would all be okay.

inbox is open send me some requests <3

#fic's with shan ;)#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold fluff #trent alexander arnold blurb #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold smau #taa x reader #taa66 #taa #liverpool fc #liverpool football club #lfc #liverpool #liverpool football club x reader #liverpool fc x reader #lfc x reader #lfc players

115 notes · View notes

hoedamn-eron · 5 months

Text

baby, please - part 15

You join Santi at Frankie's Halloween party, and you think his friends are a hoot.

Warnings: Reader is called 'Auntie' by a four year old. Heavy on the Halloween theme (obviously). Bad descriptions of a decorated house (I've never been one to celebrate Halloween, I've never really decorated my house). Lots of dialogue. Like one swear word. Slight, teeny-tiny, self-consciousness regarding future relationships for the babies/Santi/the boys/other kids. Nervousness over meeting new people. Slightly drunk Santi. Word count: 4,301 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

Again, not a great chapter, I apologise. I tried my best and no amount of rewriting could make me love it. But at least you've met the guys now!

Part 14 ● Series Masterlist ● Part 16

“I’m actually really excited for tonight, thanks for inviting me,” Gabrielle said as she walked into your apartment, kids in tow, already dressed in their costumes, the Hulk and…Michael Myers.

Theodore looked up at you as you closed your door, and he gave a loud roar, before ‘flexing’ his arms. “Hulk smash!”

You grinned before pretending to act shocked. “Please, Mr Hulk, don’t smash up my apartment! I’m moving out soon and need it to look nice for the new owners.”

“Are you leaving?” Theodore asked, lifting his mask, and looking at you with sad eyes.

You shake your head. “No, I’m just getting a bigger house, for me and my babies.” You pat your bump.

“Okay,” Theodore said, going quiet before asking, “Can I smash your new house then?”

“No smashing of other people’s property,” Gabrielle said, putting Luna down on the floor as the two-year-old toddled off into your living room.

You look at Gabrielle with an amused look at Theodore followed his sister. “So…Michael Myers?”

Gabrielle rolled her eyes as she made her way through your apartment, bags in hand. “I don’t know where she got it from, but she refused any other costume. I asked Matthew about it, but he’s claiming ignorance. It was definitely him though, but I’m not sure when he’s had the chance to watch Halloween with our two-year-old.”

You throw your hands up. “I mean…if Luna likes it – “

“Won’t people think I’m being a bad mother letting her dress up as a serial killer from a movie?”

“No-one’s going to think you’re a bad mother, Gabs. If anything, they’ll find it funny. I know Santi will.”

Gabrielle pulled a face before shaking her head. “It’s fine. You know what, it’ll be fine. I’m overthinking it.”

“You are a little. Seriously, don’t worry about it.” You look at her bags. “What are you dressing as?”

“A pirate,” Gabrielle replied. “And I made it myself with an old shirt and pants. They haven’t fit me since before I was pregnant with Luna so I thought they might as well have one last good use.”

You nod. “Cool. I’m going as Midge, you know, the - ”

“The Barbie doll?” Gabrielle cried, her eyes widening as she laughed. “That’s genius!”

“I have a wig and everything,” you laugh with her. “I hope it’s not too niche.”

“No, it’s great! I can’t wait to see it!”

You get ready together in your small bathroom as the kids watched cartoons and ate some dinner (Luna had refused to take off her mask until Gabrielle had bought out the PB&J sandwich and banana). Gabrielle looked amazing in her home-made costume (an old stripy black and white t-shirt, and some black pants that had been strategically cut to look ripped), complete with eyepatch and red head scarf. She helped you get into your costume until you both laughed with tears in your eyes, finding yourselves absolutely hilarious. You laughed even more when you placed on your red-haired wig.

“I need a photo!” Gabrielle said, still laughing, before you posed at the bathroom door as she took the picture, a wide smile on your face as you hold your bump.

After a few more laughs, and some photos with Gabrielle and the kids, you share the photos with the group chat, where Beth and Courtney both send back images of their own Halloween plans; Courtney at home with Andy, on the couch watching horror films with a big bowl of candy they were going to hand out to the trick or treaters, and Beth and Georgia at another Halloween party with Georgia’s family, where they were both dressed in a couple’s costume of She-Go and Kim Possible.

Once you and Gabrielle were ready, and the kids had finished their sandwiches, you text Santi to let him know you were on the way to Frankie’s house. He had sent over Frankie’s address earlier that day, and it wasn’t too far from the restaurant you had your date at. You set up your GPS as Gabrielle got the kids settled in the back of your car, settled in the car seats you had borrowed from Georgia via Beth.

“Are you nervous?” Gabrielle asked as she climbed into your car and closed the door.

“About what?” you ask, looking behind you as you backed out of your parking space.

“Me meeting Santi, or Santi meeting me,” Gabrielle answered.

“No, not at all,” you answer back, pulling out onto the street. “I’m more nervous about meeting his friends. He holds them in such high regard, I’m scared I’ll disappoint them.”

“You could never,” Gabrielle says. “You’re having the guys kids, I’m sure they’ll trust his judgement.”

You give her a look.

“Not that there’s anything to judge, you’re a wonderful person, I love you,” Gabrielle quickly adds, sending you a wide smile with a small giggle.

“Thanks, really appreciate it,” you snark back good-naturedly, shaking your head as you laugh.

“Auntie?” Theodore calls you from his place in the back.

“Yes, honey?” you ask him as you stop at some lights.

“When are your babies coming?”

“Not until February,” you reply. “We have to do Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year, and my birthday, then I’ll have my babies.”

“Can we meet them when they’re born?” Theodore asks.

“Not until they’re all settled at home,” Gabrielle said. “Remember when we bought Luna home, and it was just me, you, Luna, and daddy for a while?”

“Yup,” Theodore said.

“Well that’s because we all needed to get to know Luna first, wasn’t it?” Gabrielle asked. “So your Auntie and…her…friend…”

You smirk in amusement as Gabrielle tried to explain your relationship with Santi in a child friendly way. You make a right turn, making your way onto a residential street, already with a few trick or treaters.

“Anyway, your Auntie and her friend will be with the babies for a little bit before we get to see them.”

“Who is your friend, Auntie?” Theodore asked.

“His name is Santiago,” you reply. “You’ll meet him tonight.”

Theodore is quiet for a little bit before saying, “I thought mommies and daddies had to be married to have babies?”

“Who’s excited for the party?” you asked enthusiastically, causing Luna to cheer, Theodore soon joining, causing the four-year-old to soon forget his questions.

Gabrielle grinned before quietly whispering, “Nice save, you heathen.”

“I may be a heathen, but you will have to explain to your kids why I’m pregnant without being married. We’re here!” you call, pulling up to a nice-looking house, covered in Halloween decorations. The house was covered in fake cobwebs and ‘Keep Out!’ tape was stuck on the doors and windows.

There was a large, blow-up witch by the front door, and a few fake gravestones littering the front yard, some skeletons hanging over some, and you could see fake spiders with light up eyes scattered over the yard with them. The lighting inside the house was lightly fading into different colours, like purple, red, green, and orange. Lastly, you spot Jack-o’-Lanterns gathered together by the garage and the steps leading up the small porch, and the front door.

“This looks nice,” you say, looking at all the decorations.

Gabrielle nodded, smiling. “Looks like fun! Let’s go!”

You climb out of the car, giving a small shiver at the chill of the Autumn air, before getting Luna out as Gabrielle tended to Theodore. You hold the two years old’s hand as Gabrielle comes to your side, holding Theodore’s hand and the children’s bag over her shoulder. You all make your way up to the front door, before you stop, but you stand there, nervous. The sound of laughter, chatter, and faint music spills out from it, mingling with the rustle of fallen leaves.

You look at Gabrielle. “I feel really nervous. And really stupid because I feel really nervous.”

“It’s okay to feel nervous, and you’re not stupid,” Gabrielle said. “There’s a lot of things happening tonight, and if you’re not comfortable, we can just forget this and walk around the neighbourhood with the kids.”

You take a few deep breaths, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart. Gabrielle was right, there was a lot happening tonight. One of the most important people in your life is meeting an equally as important person. And in turn, you’ll be meeting the most important people in his life. You're grateful for Gabrielle’s comforting presence of your friend, her reassuring smile helping to ease the nervous tension.

Eventually you nod at Gabrielle before turning back to the door before ringing the doorbell.

After a few moments, your heart stops as the front door opens. You’re faced with a gorgeous woman, her thick, dark hair cascading in loose waves, sat under a witch’s hat. It framed her face, where her flawless sun-kissed skin was decorated with the glitter and Halloween make-up. She looks at you all with her dark eyes before gasping, her eyes widening in excitement. She calls your name.

“Yes, that’s me,” you say, smiling nervously. You assume this is Sarah. “And this is Gabrielle, my friend. And her kids, Theodore, and Luna.”

“I’m so glad you could make it! I’m Sarah. I’ve been so excited to meet you, can’t believe Santi kept you to himself for so long. Anyway, come in, come in,” she ushers you all in, closing the door behind you. “Your costumes look fantastic! Everyone’s just in the living room, I can put your bag in the closet?” she asks Gabrielle.

“Oh, no I’m fine, thank you, I can do it,” Gabrielle said.

“It’s no problem,” Sarah said, taking the bag from Gabrielle. “Go on through!”

You and Gabrielle thank her again before you make your way through the house. It was a small corridor that lead into an open plan living room, where it was just as heavily decorated as the outside. You feel your heart beating harder as nervousness ran through your body, as you take in the people in the living room. It was a little loud, but not too loud where it was obnoxious. The kids immediately let go of yours and Gabrielle’s hands at the sight of the toys scattered around the living room, throwing themselves on the floor and immediately playing.

Your eyes widen a little as you take in the small crowd. Santi wasn’t here. And you didn’t recognise anyone other than Frankie (who hadn’t actually put on a costume), and he was stood with a good-looking blonde man and a cute redheaded woman, who was hanging off of the man’s arm. The blonde and redhead were in a couple’s costume of Daphne and Fred from Scooby-Doo. Frankie chuckled at something the pirate said, before turning and catching your eye.

“Oh hey!” Frankie called as he saw you. He excuses himself from his group and makes his way over to you. “Glad you could make it.”

“Thanks again for the invite,” you say, giving a nervous laugh before turning to Gabrielle, who smiled at him. “This is my friend, Gabrielle, and her kids Theodore and Luna, who are absolutely demolishing your daughter’s toys.”

Frankie waved a nonchalant hand. “Don’t worry about it. Nice to meet you,” Frankie says, shaking Gabrielle’s hand.

“You too. And thanks again for letting me join you,” Gabrielle replied. “My kids love Halloween.”

“It’s not a problem,” Frankie says before turning to you. “Pope just ran out, he’ll be back in a few.”

You nod, letting out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding.

“Come over, make yourselves at home,” Frankie said, leading you both over to the people who he was talking to. “These are Will and Claire, I’m sure Pope’s mentioned them to you before.”

“Hi,” you say, Gabrielle giving a small wave.

“What can I get you to drink?” Frankie asked.

“Lemonade, please, if you have it,” Gabrielle said.

Frankie nodded before looking at you.

You really wanted Diet Coke, but you’d just met these people and you felt like it would be really rude to just…ask for something they might not have. Maybe you could just have a water? No, that was a bit boring, especially at a party, but you were pregnant, so it was the healthiest choice and no-one would question if you just wanted a water. God, you’re overthinking over a drink. You wouldn’t be so on edge if Santi was here, you wouldn’t be as worried to ask anything.

“A lemonade is fine for me too, thanks,” you reply.

Frankie nodded again before claiming he’d be back soon. He disappears through to the kitchen, not before stopping to give Sarah, now carrying a little girl dressed as a fairy (who was the image of Frankie), a quick peck before disappearing into the kitchen.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Will says gently. You got a chill vibe from him, although he looked rough and tumble. “Pope’s told us all about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” you say with a nervous smile as Frankie leaves towards the kitchen.

“Absolutely,” said Will, smiling as he pulled Claire into his side, her hand automatically resting on his chest, her engagement ring glinting in the Halloween themed lights. “You and the kids are all he talks about nowadays.”

You hold back a grin as Gabrielle gave you a small nudge.

“It’s been nice, that he wants to stick around,” you say, your cheeks warming. “Having kids wasn’t in my plans right now, and I could only guess they definitely weren’t in his.”

“They weren’t, but Pope’s always been good at adapting. And he’s really warmed up to the idea of being a dad,” Will said, giving a nod. “He’s dedicated to ‘em already.”

“Not dedicated enough to get a fucking car, though,” said Frankie, jokingly, suddenly coming up behind you with two glasses of cloudy lemonade in his hands.

“He said he’s working on it,” you said, coming to Santi’s defence, before taking a glass from Frankie and thanking him.

Gabrielle thanked Frankie for the other lemonade before looking between you all. “Is he fond of the truck?”

Frankie snorted, now nursing his own beer bottle. “He’d marry the truck if he could. He bought it when we came back from our first mission. Surprised it still runs.”

“Whose kid is Michael Myers?” a deep voice asked from behind you.

You turn to see a tall, blonde man, dressed – ironically – as a pirate. His eyes were the same colour at Will’s, and they looked similar, so you had to assume this was Benny. He was carrying a pack of beer in one arm, an open can in the other hand. He looks at everyone with a furrowed brow, confused about you and Gabrielle – obviously because you were unfamiliar.

“She’s mine,” Gabrielle said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t ask.”

“Holy shit, we match!” Benny cried, his grin widening as he motioned to their outfits. “Here I thought I was being clever being a pirate!”

Gabrielle gave a small, amused laugh. “Your costume is better than mine, I just threw this together.”

“Nah, you look great!” Benny said, and you could tell he meant it. He reminded you a little of a Golden Retriever; a dumb, loving, Golden Retriever.

“Well…thanks,” Gabrielle said, blushing a little as she took a sip of her lemonade.

Benny’s eyes landed on you, before smirking. “Been looking forward to meeting you.”

“Be nice,” Frankie said, giving Benny a pointed look.

“He bothering you, cariño?”

You turn so suddenly, you’re surprised you didn’t give yourself whiplash. Your breath catches. Santi's dressed as a charming vampire, complete with the fake-bloodied holes on his neck, a black cape and fake fangs that glint as he grins at you. As if they feel their father near (or, you know, the sudden acceleration of your heartbeat), you feel a few kicks from within, a reminder of the two lives quietly developing beneath the surface.

Realising you may have taken too long to answer, you shake your head. “No, no. He isn’t bothering me.”

Santi gives a small laugh of amusement before he holds up a case of Diet Coke cans. “Had to get these, since Frankie isn’t accommodating for new guests.”

“Hey, hermano, I would have gotten them if I’d known,” Frankie says, with mock offence, before giving Santi a pointed look. “Don’t blame me for your bad planning!”

Santi throws him the bird before pulling a can from the pack. “Might be a bit warm, I can put the rest in the fridge. Unless you want to wait?”

Oh, you love this man. You want to marry this man.

“I’ll finish my lemonade first, thank you,” you say, smiling softly. “I’ll have a Coke later.”

Santi nods before putting the can back in the pack before he glares at Benny. “Don’t be an ass.”

“I wasn’t!” he called as Santi walked off into the kitchen. He turned to look at you. “I wasn’t going to be an ass, I swear.”

“I believe you,” you say, nodding as you sip at your lemonade.

“Go and put your beer in the fridge,” said Will, laughing.

Benny rolled his eyes, muttering something you couldn’t quite hear, before he turned and followed Santi through to the kitchen, calling for him.

“So uh…that’s Santi?” Gabrielle asks you quietly.

You sigh lightly, giving her a look. “Yup.”

“Cute. Nice hair. And a nice smile…I assume, he’s got fangs in.”

“He does have a nice smile,” you say, before smirking. “Nice ass, too.”

You both snort a laugh in amusement before going quiet when Santi and Benny come back, talking animatedly about something that you couldn’t quite keep up with, beers in their hands. You avert your gaze, looking at Gabrielle, who smirked back at you as she sipped at her lemonade. You shake your head as Santi stands next to you, Benny next to him.

“What have I missed?” he asked, looking at the group.

“Introductions, mostly,” you say, motioning to Gabrielle. “This is Gabrielle. Gabs, this is Santi.”

Gabrielle and Santi shake hands. “Nice to meet you,” Gabrielle says.

“You too,” Santi says. He nods to Theodore and Luna, who were still sat playing with the toys. “I’m assuming Michael Myers and the Hulk are yours?”

“They are,” Gabrielle says, letting out a small laugh. “Theodore and Luna. She insisted on being Michael Myers.”

“Girl’s got taste, it’s my favourite horror film,” Benny said, laughing.

As the night goes on, more and more guests show up, and the house is soon full of people. Sarah’s brothers and sister had turned up with their kids, and Theodore and Luna soon integrated themselves with the other children, who ranged from aged 6 months old to 9 years old. Sofía had even joined after a while, although she played mostly on her own, beside Luna, who still had yet to take off her mask.

Sarah had set up some Halloween activities in the back yard; she’d set up a table with some pumpkins of various sizes and some carving sets, mostly for the older kids, but you and Gabrielle helped Theodore and Luna make their own pumpkins. Sarah had also set up a large box filled with water and apples for bobbing, something you opted out of, but howled with laughter when you watched the Miller brothers almost try to drown each other in order to win. Santi was by your side throughout.

You talked to so many people; mostly about work, how your pregnancy was going, if you were enjoying the party. You had to admit, you were having fun, and it was nice to see Santi interacting with his friends. He was…different. But in a good way. He seemed more laidback, chatted a little more, and you got to see him interact with Sofía. He loved that little girl. She was just learning to walk, and she would always find herself toddling over to Santi and reach up for him.

There was never a lull in conversation as he picked her up, it was almost as if it was instinctive for him. It made your heart swell.

The guys didn’t let you down in telling you embarrassing stories about Santi.

You started wondering what it would be like with your kids. Would he take them to Halloween parties like this? Would your children and Sofía grow up together and become friends? Would Frankie, Will, and Benny be as involved as they were with Sofía? You suppose it would be harder, with you and Santi not being an actual couple. They would only see the twins on whichever schedule you and Santi eventually decide between yourselves, and even then, that might not be every time Santi has them.

You look around the living room, holding your long empty Diet Coke can. Benny and Gabrielle were standing with the kids, talking about whatever they were talking about (something to do with boxing…you remember Benny had done some cage fighting), and Frankie and Sarah were putting Sofía to bed. Santi and Will were talking with Claire about wedding planning; but it did look like Claire was doing most of the talking. It was cute, you looked forward to hearing more about it.

You took the opportunity to sneak away to the kitchen, grabbing a moment of peace and quiet. You toss your empty can into the recycling before opening the fridge to grab another.

“You okay, corazón?”

You give a small smile as you look at Santi, who had joined you in the kitchen, beer bottle in his hand. His eyes were a little unfocused, and he was giving you a little dopey smile, probably from the few beers he’d had. You close the fridge. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just grabbing another drink. Thanks for getting these, by the way.”

Santi nodded, leaning against one of the counters. “Not a problem. It was my fault Frankie didn’t have any, I did forget to tell him.”

You shake your head at him. “I would have gone without, you didn’t need to go to the store.”

“Benny was going anyway,” Santi said. “And I wanted to. They didn’t have any Sourpatch Kids though, you might have to steal some from the Trick or Treat bowl.”

You shake your head, grinning. “I’ve already looked, they’re not the watermelon ones.”

“Damn, you just can’t get the staff nowadays,” Santi joked.

You laugh as you open the can. You hold it out to him in a silent offer, and he shakes his head at you, finishing the beer he had with him.

You nod, then you both go silent, and you take a sip of your drink. Something felt…weird. You couldn’t put your finger on it. It wasn’t an awkward feeling, not at all. But now, in this moment, there was an unfamiliar tension in the air. You’d been alone together plenty of times before. Maybe it was because you’d really integrated in each other’s lives; his apartment had a fully furnished nursery, which you picked yourselves, you were both meeting each other’s friends, and you even had your own designated snack drawer in his kitchen for your favourite foods whenever you found yourself at his place.

Maybe that was it. A lot had happened in the last few days and it was getting to you.

“You okay?”

You blink at his question before giving him a closed lipped smile and nodding. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“You can go home if you want, no-one will mind,” Santi said, coming off the counter.

“No, no, I’m okay. Gabs and the kids are having a good time.”

“You sure?” he asks, coming closer to you. “I don’t want you uncomfortable. You’re carrying my kids in there.”

You give a small snort of amusement before nodding. “Yeah…yeah, I’m sure.”

He doesn’t say anything, just takes a few more steps closer to you. Your breath hitches, as you stare at him. The sounds of the party in just the next room seem to fade away, and all you can hear is the thumping of your heartbeat in your ears.

The atmosphere is charged with anticipation as you and Santi share a moment of connection. He’s so close, you feel your back hit the fridge, your noses touching. He smells faintly of the beer he’s been drinking, but mostly of the pumpkins he helped carve for Sofía, and the cologne he always wears, and something that was just plain Santiago. It was mouth-watering. His eyes flash to your lips before meeting yours. Your lips inch closer, teasing the promise of a sweet, stolen kiss in his best friend’s kitchen.

“What are you doing?” you whisper.

There’s a pause before he whispers back. “I don’t know.”

You lean in, your lips barely meeting when the spell is abruptly broken as the kitchen door opens.

Santi jumps apart from you as you gasp at the sudden movement, and before you know it, he’s across the other side of the kitchen, throwing away his empty beer.

Gabrielle walks into the kitchen, looking between the two of you, obviously reading the room. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

You open your mouth to reply but Santiago shakes his head, a light blush on his cheeks as he grins at her. “No, we were just talking. Nothing going on.”

You freeze. No, that’s not what he meant. Don’t overthink this. He’s a little drunk and you’re having his kids. It’s understandable that he might be feeling a little friendly.

You give a shaky smile to Gabrielle. “Yeah, just talking.”

Gabrielle nodded as Santi mumbled something about re-joining the party and leaving the kitchen. You both watch him leave before you shake your head, trying to calm your breathing and your heart.

“What was that?” Gabrielle whispered, her eyes wide at you.

You shook your head. “I…nothing. It was nothing.”

Tagged - @khonsulockley, @bluenredndeath, @superficialfeelings, @othersideoftheparadise, @beezusvreeland

#triple frontier #santiago garcia x reader #santiago x reader #santiago garcia #oscar isaac #pregnant!reader #santiago garcia x f!reader #frankie morales #william miller #benny miller

66 notes · View notes