#best california dishes

[hiddengemsreal]

undefined

🌟 Get ready to explore the mouthwatering flavors of California! Join us on a culinary journey through the state's famous foods and dishes! From juicy burgers to delectable seafood and everything in between, discover the irresistible tastes that define California cuisine! 🍔🌮🍤 Subscribe to Hidden Gems for more foodie adventures. #CaliforniaCuisine #FoodieAdventures #HiddenGems #FoodExploration #TasteofCalifornia #FoodieFinds #CaliforniaEats #FoodDiscovery #shorts #shortvideo #trendingshorts #trending #california #viral #reels

[moonchildstyles]

bardot

y/n is an aspiring model, and harry just might be the person that could help her

wordcount: 12.5k+

this is a patreon exclusive, with every part after this one only available on my page!

—————

A chill touched the base of (Y/N)'s spine as she padded over the cracked tiles lining her kitchen floor. It was enough of a disturbance to cause a pinch in her brows, though she still couldn't manage to peel her eyes open more than a crack. If not for the fact that she had to run a couple of errands before her shift tonight, she wouldn't even be awake at the moment. 

Working through that fatigue, she rubbed her eyes as she reached for the box of Cheerios on the top of her fridge. Her movements were lethargic as she made her breakfast, taking her time as she attempted to wake up despite the late night she'd had, closing the restaurant. Before sitting down with her cereal, she made a point to draw open her curtains, allowing bright beams of sunlight to filter through her apartment, a tactic she opened would wake her up. 

Feeling the warmth on her skin, her tired eyes fluttering against the bright light, it was all something she was still getting used to. The California sun was still so novel to her compared to the weather she'd grown up with back home. Though she missed the multitude of sweaters she'd left behind at her parents' home, she would trade those knits to get this kind of sunlight any day. 

(Y/N) pulled in a deep breath, imagining the specks of sunlight bumbling through her lungs. It didn't feel so bad then to sit down with her breakfast, a selection of new, glossy magazines sitting in the middle of her coffee table—a gift from herself after getting through her shift the night before.

Spooning a bite to her mouth, she picked up the first magazine with VOGUE stamped across the top. The cover held a glimmering photograph of a woman draped in a brightly colored dress, her hair teased high, and the kind of makeup (Y/N) had attempted to achieve in her bathroom mirror—though it never turned out as clean. The headlines had printings about the best summer pieces to have to get that "California Style", along with spreads about the new "Paris Chic" and the best eye makeup for your eye color. 

This was her morning news. Everything she wanted to know was between the glossy pages, every photograph a part of her morning routine. Flicking through, (Y/N) admired the models printed on the pages, each of them exceptionally beautiful and holding a kind of poise she wondered also ran through their real lives. 

Did Jean Shrimpton always look that perfect? Was Donyale Luna even able to leave the house without someone stopping her for just a momentary look at her cheekbones? Did any of these women ever admire themselves on the page the way (Y/N) did?

Though she skimmed the articles as she went, she no doubt had eyes for the photos themselves. If she squinted hard enough, she could almost see herself instead of the leggy body on the page. 

After finishing off her cereal, she flipped the page just as she began to rise to tow her dishes to the sink, though the ad on page had her lagging for just a moment. 

Corseted into an hourglass shape, complete with a puffy bunny tail and a set of ears on her head, was a woman with blonde hair teased high holding a silver serving tray. Black stockings molded around her legs, showing off the curves like the smile on her lips. Beneath her was a bold black font, detailing the opening of a new club in Los Angeles. 

Playboy. 

(Y/N) was familiar with the branding and the general idea behind the company, but it wasn't something she gave more than a passing thought most of the time. It was never something that really appealed to her, piquing nothing more than her curiosity over how many models—well known and hidden, alike—had been able to feel that kind of confidence to be able to pose the way they did. While she'd never seen anything for herself, there was always the talk about the centerfolds of the magazines, and what exactly was sandwiched between the pages.

It was definitely a departure from the kinds of modeling she had pictured for herself when she made the move out to the west coast in the first place, but she wondered, while looking at the corseted woman, what it could feel like to be in that spot. Would the confidence come naturally? Would the perfect posture and the perfect smile come on instinct, or were those women directed and directed until they were what the men around her told her would sell? 

She couldn't be sure, the idea being too much for her to figure out since she hadn't even been on a set herself yet. She didn't know what it would be like to have a real photographer put their camera in her face normally, let alone with only the smallest amount of clothing on her body. 

Casting one more glance at the page, she rose from her spot on the couch to take her dishes to the sink. With the corseted woman out of sight and out of mind, (Y/N) was instead distracted by the calendar pinned to the wall beside her sink. Today's slot was marked with all of the day's errands as well as her shift time, though she was distracted by the following day.

There wasn't anything particularly special marking the space, but it would commemorate the six month anniversary of her official move to California. 

If she thought too hard about it, she would focus on the lack of auditions she'd been on after the move, the zero number of scouts that had seen her on the street and begged her to join their agency, the amount of times she wondered if she had actually made the right decision when she asked her parents to help her pack up and move across the country. 

Instead, she reminded herself of the same thing she always did when all of the change had become overwhelming: just because it hasn't happened for her yet, doesn't mean it never will. 

She was an optimist at heart, and she would continue to be optimistic about her future in this city. One day she would be plastered on a billboard, or showcasing a new Maybelline mascara with her eyes fluttering in a commercial. She could even find her way to Vogue someday. 

For all she knew, today could be the start of her big break.

—————

"Thank you for covering, Gabby!" 

As soon as (Y/N) stepped out into the makeshift break room in the alley behind the restaurant for her lunch break, the bubbly smile on her lips fell. Closing shifts always took the breath out of her, especially during the dinner rush on Friday nights like this. 

These thirty minutes away, hiding in the back alley at one of the small tables set up in lieu of a proper break room, was precious to her. Despite just how loud the restaurant was, the sound overspilling into the alley, the space was just removed enough to help her brain quiet down for the time being. As much as (Y/N) loved the way her body looked and the way her legs seemed to stretch on for miles when she slipped on high heels, there would never be anything that could rival the relieved feeling that came with slipping them off for even just a few minutes during this time away. 

Leaving her feet only loosely in her shoes, she didn't waste any more of her break time, pulling out her packed sandwich and the bottle of apple juice she brought for her dinner. She had tucked a small magazine into her purse, but the thought of adding anything extra to her head at the moment wasn't appealing. Instead, she listened to the overflow of conversation from the server's station just by the swinging door of the alley as if it were a program from her television set.

Just as usual, she heard some of her coworkers debating over if there were any familiar faces seated in the dining room for the night. It wasn't unusual for famous patrons to take a seat for dinner with them, though (Y/N) highly doubted Elizabeth Taylor was currently at the bar, but the debate of whether or not one of the waiters should approach her and ask if he could be in her next movie (or next husband) was enough to bring a smile to her face between her bites of dinner. 

By the time she emptied her bottle of apple juice and had her lunch reduced to a few crumbs, the server's station had been cleared out with the only noise of the kitchen filtering out to the alley and keeping her comfortable. Just as she moved to pack everything away, her ears perked at the sound of quick footsteps heading outside to join her. Peering over her shoulder, (Y/N) just caught the way Misty, one of the hostesses she was closer with, all but barreled out onto the pavement. 

It didn't take very long to spot the difference in Misty's demeanor with the way she didn't seem to notice (Y/N) was out there at all, instead immediately beginning to pace before the door with her heels clicking over the pavement. There must have been a conversation going on in her head with the way she flapped her hands before her like a talk show host, and the silent muttering of her lips. As far as (Y/N) knew, Misty's break wasn't scheduled for another hour, even. 

"Mist?" (Y/N) prodded in a gentle voice, "Is everything okay?" 

Stopping in her tracks with a stutter to her steps, Misty looked to her with wide brown eyes and a hand to her throat. "Oh my god, you scared me." 

"Sorry," (Y/N) offered with a cautious smile, "Are you okay? You seem really freaked." 

"Yeah," Misty said, though she was less than convincing with her response, "Did you see my sister came in?" 

(Y/N) nodded, looking up at her friend from where she sat at the wobbly wrought iron table. "Is she okay?" 

Misty's shaken demeanor shifted then as she rolled her eyes, heaving a big sigh. "She's fine," she started, irritated, "just stupid. We were supposed to go to this party tomorrow night in the hills, but she's bailing on me so she can meet up with her ex. They're going to 'work it out', apparently." 

"Wait, the one that cheated with your cousin?" (Y/N)'s brows furrowed, with her mouth dropping into a gape. It couldn't be that ex, right? 

"That's the one," Misty chirped, also less than impressed with her sister's choosing, "I know, she's being an idiot but not even my mom was able to talk her out of it. But, she was going to be my ride tomorrow, and go with me so I wasn't alone."

(Y/N)'s face fell when she heard how dejected Misty sounded. While she didn't know much about this party in "the hills", she was sure that hearing about her sister's reconciliation with a terrible ex—and that she would rather hang out with a cheater than Misty herself—was more than enough to get her down. 

"I'm sorry, Mist," (Y/N) said, her eyes softening with her lips falling into a pout, "It's not fair to leave you hanging like that." 

Settling some, Misty took the chair across from (Y/N) offering a small smile. "It's okay," she shrugged, "It's just frustrating. She knows this party is important to me, but she's going to go see some guy that cheated on her, instead." 

"That sucks," (Y/N) interjected, sure her friend wasn't looking for a solution more than she wanted to vent at the moment, "Is it a birthday party, or?" 

Misty shook her head, her long black hair wisping over her shoulder, "It's an industry party. One of my friend's has an older sister who works across the street from this office that has a bunch of these music people. Apparently there's a big party happening tomorrow night at some executive's house, and she was able to get me and my sister an invite, but now I don't know if I'm even going to be able to make it there." 

(Y/N)'s lips thinned, her eyes falling to the latticed surface of the table where she fiddled with the strap of her purse. An idea pinged through her head, though she was more than unsure of voicing it. 

She'd never been to an industry party before, but there was a first time for everything—especially if it meant she could help her friend. If she was lucky, there might be even a few people she could get to know, other models or someone that could help in her own dreams. 

"I—" she started, catching her tongue when she was unsure of her next words. Flicking her eyes up to Misty, where it was clear on her face just how hard she was thinking about whatever plan she could conjure for the next twenty-four hours, (Y/N) tried again. "Okay—um—stop me if I'm doing too much, but I... If you want, I could go with you? Just so you wouldn't be alone, and I could drive you up, and everything. I don't want you to miss this if you think you'll be able to meet someone that could help you with your singing, but don't feel like you have to take me. If you can't find anyone else, just know I'm willing." 

Feeling herself rambling, (Y/N) forced herself to zip her lips in favor of watching for Misty's reaction. 

"Wait, really?" Misty said, a bubbling lilt to her voice, "You'd drive and everything, even though it's kind of far away? You don't, like, work tomorrow or anything?" 

Her rapid fire questions did little to hide the light that sparkled in her eyes and the smile that crept on her lips. (Y/N) only shrugged, feeling herself light up. "I work tomorrow night, but I should be home with enough time to get ready as long as we don't have to be there too early." 

The giggling squeal that left Misty's lips had (Y/N) letting out her own laugh just before her friend reached for her hands across the table. "(Y/N)! Thank you so much—I would love to have you come with me! We're going to have so much fun, thank you!" 

(Y/N) felt herself perking up, matching Misty's energy as she squeezed her hands. "I'm so excited, thank you," she bubbled.

The dejection she came out with had melted away leaving room for her to be back to her bubbling, loud self that ran the front of the restaurant. "No, no, thank you! Really, there's going to be so many people there—important people—this could be really good for us. And now, we both get to go!" 

Despite feeling a little nervous, accepting an invite to a place she'd never been before along with the host being someone she had no real connection to, (Y/N) couldn't help but to feel a warmth in her stomach over the kind of luck she'd stumbled into tonight. While she was sure there was going to be majority of people from the music world in attendance—people who were going to be important to Misty and her dreams of having a singing career—there has to be at least a couple of people who knew someone who could help her encroach on her own modeling aspirations. 

The remainder of her lunch time (as well as Misty's impromptu break from her hostess duties) was spent ironing out the details of the next day. A to-do list came together in (Y/N)'s head, starting with raiding her closet as soon as she made it back to her apartment tonight, hoping she could find something in the back of the racks that might be suitable for the kind of party Misty was describing to her. She couldn't wait to force a map into Misty's hands to navigate them to the hills she kept mentioning.

"I heard there might be valet there, but I don't know if that's true or just something Angelica—" 

"(Y/N), do you know where Mist—Oh, there you are," Marcus, one of the waiters, said, popping his head out into the alley, "I know you took a fifteen, but we need your help." 

Misty deflated at the request of her presence, a pout itching to settle on her lips. "I'll be up in a second." 

"Okay. Molly's drowning right now, though, so be fast."

Before he could catch the roll of Misty's eyes, Marcus disappeared back into the bustling restaurant. 

Turning to (Y/N), Misty started for the door, standing from her spot across from her friend. "I'll call you tomorrow, okay? We'll figure out what we're wearing, and I'll tell you the exact address when I get the note back from my sister." 

"Okay," (Y/N) smiled, eyes following her friend as she approached the door, "Thank you again, Misty—I'm really excited." 

She paused in the doorway, one foot inside the restaurant with the other in the alley. "Me too. See you in there." 

With a wave, Misty slipped inside the restaurant leaving (Y/N) with a remaining five minutes alone. 

She quietly packed up with a smile on her face. By the time she slipped her feet back into her heels, the pain in her arches didn't feel so bad. 

For all she knew, tomorrow night could be the start of her big break.

—————

The waning summer sunlight reflected off the silver sequins decorating (Y/N)'s dress as she drove to Misty's. With the open back of the garment, the cool leather of the seat pressed into her back. The feeling had her hearkening back to the last few times she'd worn this dress, to a handful of auditions she went on before realizing that agencies didn't really want to see a cocktail dress on a potential employee at ten a.m. The patent white leather of her thigh high boots squeaked as she shifted in her spot, her eyes peering through the windshield at each passing street sign marking the unfamiliar neighbourhood. 

Coming to a slow stop at the curb, (Y/N) checked the map she had splayed on the passenger seat and the note with Misty's address half a dozen times, comparing it to the powder blue house she pulled up in front of. Hopefully, she'd made it to the right house. 

Putting the car in park, fluffing her hair one more time, (Y/N) stepped out onto the warm pavement. The sunset reflected pink across the silver of her dress, warming her skin as if she were under the flashes of dozens of cameras. 

Scaling the driveway to Misty's home, she had her eyes on the door, catching the way the knob spun before (Y/N) even made it to the porch. Misty waved to someone behind her, the length of her hair swishing at her waist as she spun around to face (Y/N) with a bright smile. A rich red dress hugged her figure, the halter top neckline framing the slide of her neck and the cut towards her cleavage. Her heels clicked with every step she took over the concrete towards (Y/N), glimmering makeup sparking on her eyelids. 

Misty forged ahead, pulling (Y/N) in for a giddy hug that had her wobbly in her boots. "Hi! How are you? Are you excited? You look so pretty!" 

(Y/N) laughed at the onslaught of questions, falling in line with Misty as she headed towards the car parked at the curb. "I'm good—excited! You look really pretty, too, thank you! I've never seen your hair down like this." 

To make a show of it, she flipped a hand through her hair with a smile on her lips. "Tonight could be the night, (Y/N)—had to pull out all the stops." 

Laughing, she followed after Misty as she started towards the car. Misty's confidence was contagious, enough to spread to (Y/N) as she settled in behind the wheel, sliding a pair of sunglasses on the line of her nose. 

As they drove towards the hills, a map splayed out in Misty's lap, they had the windows cranked down with the radio up. (Y/N) couldn't help but to sing along with the selection going through her speakers, ranging from the croons from The Zombies to belting tones from The Supremes. 

She was going to a party in the Hollywood Hills! A party where, if she's lucky enough, she could end up on the billboards they were driving past. Even if that didn't happen, she would still be fulfilling a part of her dream when she moved out here in the first place—getting to see places she'd only ever seen in movies or on the glossy pages of her magazines. 

"What do you think it's going to be like?" (Y/N) asked, shouting over the whipping wind and beats from James Brown. 

"Hm?" Misty hummed, looking back from where she had been gazing out the window, "The party?" 

"Yeah. You said there'll be lots of music kinds of people, right? Do you think we'll see anyone we know?" 

Misty shrugged, a beaming smile. "Maybe—hopefully! Angelica called me this morning and said there's supposed to be a lot of executives, so I don't know if we'll see any singers, but we'll meet the people who made the singers! How exciting is that?!" 

(Y/N), even through fleeting glances, could spot the excitement in Misty's gaze. While modeling (maybe even movies, if she was lucky enough) was (Y/N)'s dream, she was more than okay with being there for Misty as they rubbed elbows with the people that made possible all the music they were listening to now. 

In between giving directions, Misty happily chattered away about all of the different hopes she had for the soiree. Outside, the sun sunk low in the sky before disappearing by the time they entered the hills. The world around them changed from the lengths of highway to the beachy suburbs of the coast, all the way until the Hollywood Hills surrounded them. With the windows up and the radio ticked down just enough, both she and Misty left their attention to the gorgeous homes that now popped up around them like clean white roses. Everything was made of strategic, precise lines, creamy and bright against all of the greenery planted around them. Cars she'd only seen in movies were parked outside the garages, painted in pale colors with chrome accents that gleamed under the waning light. 

The sight reminded her of the Saturday morning episodes of the Jetsons she used to catch back at home as a girl. Seeing nothing more than the structures, she felt as if she were already meeting a handful of celebrities. 

After a final set of directions muttered off by Misty, (Y/N) turned onto a long stretching street. Before, while the houses were modern and clean, these were nothing short of extravagant. They were much further spaced out, gates planted before the driveways with plenty of greenery to help give even more privacy to whoever lived behind the walls. 

"It should be on the left, I think," Misty muttered, her own gaze glossed out as she took in the homes around them. 

(Y/N) silently nodded her head, pushing her sunglasses to sit on the top of her head. Peering to the left, she didn't have to peek at the numbers posted on the gates to know what home was where the party was being hosted. It was the only building with bright lights peeking through the greenery, reflecting through the darkening sky. While the rest of the street seemed to be luxuriating in quiet privacy, this one was beaconing those around them to come closer. 

"This one?" (Y/N) asked, slowing as they approached the open driveway. 

"This one," Misty smiled, giddy in her seat. 

Turning in, (Y/N) found the biggest mansion she could have imagined to be shrouded behind the palms and draping vines planted along the perimeter. It was just as pristine as the others they'd seen before, new and perfect, but on a scale she couldn't imagine knowing what to do with. A dome thatched in glimmering bronze bisected the mansion, a large window cut out on what had to be the third floor of the home, showcasing a crystalline chandelier for all to see. Creamy lines made out the rest of the structure, cookie-cutter windows giving glimpses into the spaces inside. More greenery made its way closer to the structure in the form of pruned hedges, climbing flower bushes, and postcard perfect palm trees. 

The rumor of there being valet at this soiree had turned out to be complete truth as (Y/N) drove further up the drive. Her hands grew clammy around the wheel. 

"What do I do?" she rushed out to Misty, taking her foot off the gas to buy herself time. 

"What do you mean? What?" Misty answered, knocked out of her own admiration of the space.

"The valet," (Y/N) said, slightly panicked, "Are they actually going to take the car?" 

Misty seemed to finally notice the man clad in a simple black outfit stationed at the front dome, bored as he peered at the slowly approaching car on the drive. "Oh. I don't know. Do you keep the car on or just give them the keys?" 

"I don't know," (Y/N) parroted, words bubbling off as she ran out of time the closer they drew to the dome, "I've never done this before!"

Before either of them had a chance to attempt to thread together a game plan, (Y/N) heavily stepped on the brake, stopping them at the front door. The valet made no move to greet them, standing at his station with a pleasant expression on his face as he waited. With clumsy movements, (Y/N) pulls her keys out of the ignition, and plucked her purse from beside her feet. Misty followed with the same amount of haste, both of them practically stumbling out of the car towards the waiting valet that looked on with surprise raising his brows. 

"Hi," (Y/N) greeted, just barely remembering the sunglasses pinning her hair back on her head. She snatched them off, tucking them into her purse. 

"Good evening, ladies," the valet responded, taking in their stumble, "How are you?" 

"We're alright, thank you," Misty piped up, peering around the valet to get a peek into the home behind him, "And yourself?" 

"I'm doing swell myself, thank you," he beamed, holding a hand out expectantly towards (Y/N), "How do you know the host?"

While he had a pleasant smile on his face as he took her keys, (Y/N) was sure he was well aware of how little they fit in within this space. She couldn't blame him for assuming there was a chance they weren't supposed to be here, if their stumbling and her less than trendy car was anything to go by.

"We work with him," Misty piped up, clearly preferring to bypass the roundabout way that she knew the host through three different people. 

"Oh, yeah?" he prodded, brows bouncing above his eyes, "At the office or the studio?" 

"The office," Misty clarified without a second thought. 

The valet took her answer with a slow nod, palming (Y/N)'s keys before asking for her name and bidding them a good night once they were on the list. With that, he left the double doors behind him unattended. Misty grabbed (Y/N)'s hand who stumbled into step beside her, her gaze shot over her shoulder to watch as the valet took in the vast difference between her car and the others he'd already attended to throughout the night. 

Pushing through the double doors, (Y/N)'s expectations for the inside of this mansion were blown out of the water. One of a kind art canvases were hung up on the walls, beautifully crafted vases and sculptures displayed through the halls, along with the extravagant chandelier hanging above their heads. This place felt straight out of a movie, perfect like a Normal Rockwell painting. 

The deeper Misty walked them through the space, she took in the overflow of guests spread throughout the home. She'd never seen so many different sitting rooms, with so many different people. In the main space just off from the foyer was cleared out, leaving space for a bar being professionally tended and room for plenty of young women to dance along to the records spinning on the player with drinks in hand. Too many older men were placed along the perimeter doing nothing more than watching them. 

"Um," Misty started, voice raised high enough to be heard over the different radios and gramophones playing, "I'm going to try to find my friend and her sister, and the host, but you don't have to come with me if you want to get a drink." 

(Y/N) didn't have to think before she steeled her grip on Misty's hand. There was no way Misty was going to be able to lose her that quickly. "No, I'll go with you." 

"Are you sure?" Misty asked, bouncing her brows above her eyes.

(Y/N) gave a nod, shooting her friend a look with a glance towards the men prowling around the young women. Misty seemed to catch her drift then, more than alright with (Y/N) tagging along. 

While Misty was on the lookout for familiar faces, (Y/N) was happily pulled along with her curious gaze spread out to every branching hallway and living area. While the room with the women dancing around was the life of the soiree, there were other areas that looked as if they were board meetings plucked right out of the city complete with men dressed in suits, lounging with cigars in smoky rooms. Trays with food were being passed about in the hands of staff dressed in similar all black outfits as the valet out front. 

She barely had a chance to settle her eyes on a single person or scene before something just as bright and bold called her attention away. Misty surged forward with their hands still clasped until they reached the glass door leading to the backyard. 

If she had thought the inside of the mansion was wild, not even the drunken bar room had anything on the backyard. 

With a shimmering pool setting the scene, there seemed to be a rule that only the prettiest of attendees were allowed in the grassy space. It only took a pair of steps out onto the patio for (Y/N) to feel like she had never actually seen Los Angeles before this moment. Her mouth was set agape as Misty dragged her along, heading towards a grouping of men (Y/N) barely glanced at when there was so much else around to steal attention. 

A bar was stationed outside as well, though it looked much less professional than what was inside. Whoever wanted a drink was free to grab whatever, including the whole bottle if they so choose, with no one to bat an eye. More than a few people floated about the pool, some fully clothed while others were covered with only the help of the refractions glowing through the water. Drunken conversations were held between those about the lip of the pool, some wobbling close to the edge though they only laughed when the stumbles occurred. 

Everything appeared entirely too glamorous to be real. The women's hair was too perfect, the men too picturesque. This was what shindigs in the Hills were like? 

Suddenly Misty's voice piped up, having taken the straight to the grouping of businessmen she had eyed as soon as they made it out the door. "Hi! Mr. Vitacoma?" 

Facing forward, (Y/N) watched as a tall man with broad shoulders turned around to face Misty, brows in a pinch. "That's me," he started, eyes visibly brightening when he took in who exactly it was that had approached him, "How can I help you?" 

Misty's bright voice became a mumble as she introduced herself, and thanked this man for hosting the party. A conversation started, Mr. Vitacoma asking how exactly they were connected and how she'd found herself at his soiree. From what she was collecting, this man was some kind of executive at a record label, tonight's party being a "just because" occasion, and of course, he was so happy to have such a beautiful woman like Misty in attendance. 

(Y/N) was vaguely aware of Misty's voice pattering on with confidence, though her attention was stitched elsewhere. The men around Mr. Vitacoma had gone quiet, impressed with Misty's gall to have approached their group in the first place. It was interesting to see these men as suits, the kind running the studios and labels instead of those in front of the cameras and microphones. 

One of them in particular had (Y/N) flicking her eyes away more than once, his face almost too pretty to look at for longer than a moment before needing a break. 

His bone structure was sharp, jawline cutting with high cheekbones, a layer of stubble creeping up his cheeks. From his profile, his nose was a perfect straight line; cinnamon colored freckles were dusted over the bridge, faint under the lowlight. His hair came in textured waves of dark brown, playing off of the bright green hue of his eyes. His white button up was undone, displaying the white undershirt pasted to his torso. Just the faintest peeks of different tattoos bled through the thin fabric, including the tips of a chest piece peeking over the neckline of his tank. A small peach colored, paisley printed silk scarf was hanging around his neck, untied through the wrinkles in the material made it clear it had been knotted earlier in the night. A pair of black pants were belted around his hips with a shimmering pinstripe running through the garment, playing off the ambient lighting through the backyard.

(Y/N) couldn't keep herself from following the line of his form. Broad shoulders and strong chest gave way to a tapered waist, each block of muscle visible through the cling of the top. 

By the time she dared to flit her eyes back up to his face, (Y/N) had to blink back her shock at finding the green lilypads of his eyes already trained right on her. A small smile touched at the corner of his mouth, amusement sparking across his graze. 

Feeling her skin heating, she was suddenly too aware of herself. She hadn't meant to glaze her eyes all over him, let alone be caught doing just that. Flicking her gaze away on instinct towards Misty still schmoozing over her executive, (Y/N) shuffled in her spot, patent leather of her boots squeaking. Her hands suddenly felt too empty, especially feeling his eyes still warming the side of her face. She didn't think before she had her hand reaching for her hair, searching for some kind of flyaway or anything out of place to play with, just before her fingers collided with her forgotten sunglasses. If there wasn't already enough embarrassment coursing through her system, the fact she had left her accessory messily holding her hair back could have been enough to have her melting on the spot. 

It wasn't bad enough she was caught ogling a stranger, she also had to have stray pieces of hair standing straight up on her head while she was at it. 

Fumbling around, she plucked the sunglasses from the top of her head and made to shove them into her purse. A breathy laugh sounded, so quiet she wouldn't have heard it over all the noise had she not been hyper aware of the man standing only feet away from her. 

Peeking up through the stray baby hairs falling in her face, (Y/N) saw the man with the peach scarf looking at her with an amused smile on his face, dimples in his cheeks with his green irises bright. He bounced his brows above his eyes when he caught her gaze, gesturing down to her stumbling hands and fingerprint laden glasses with a tip of his chin. 

(Y/N)'s blood burned under the apples of her cheeks. She could only sheepishly shrug, a shy smile on her lips in hopes of looking more nonchalant than she clearly was. 

Another small laugh plumed from him. Her shoulders relaxed some when she realized he wasn't making a joke of her, merely quietly teasing her over something only the two of them know about. A small inside joke was being threaded between them in the middle of the patio. 

Stepping away from the congregation, the man made a step towards (Y/N). Her heartbeat picked up in her chest. It would only take a few of his long strides to close to space between them. 

"This is (Y/N)," Misty chirped, tugging her forward and away from the stranger that had taken her attention. "My sister bailed, and (Y/N) stepped up to come with me tonight. I wouldn't be here if she didn't agree to come out here." 

A slight daze had (Y/N)'s attention split between the present and moments before. She gave a placid smile to Misty's executive, offering a hand out for him to shake. "Nice to meet you. Mr. Vitacoma, right?" 

He flashed (Y/N) a bright smile, offering his own greeting she barely paid attention to. Pleasantries were exchanged then, forcing her to play along as to not ruin this for Misty, though (Y/N)'s mind was decidedly stitched elsewhere. With every plastered smile and feigned attentive nod of her head, she could feel someone's—his—eyes on her. 

If it wasn't disrespectful, she would have already disengaged from Mr. Vitacoma and given her attention back to the man with the peach scarf. As much as she warmed under his gaze, still feeling a bit of that embarrassment after being caught so obviously ogling him, she was thrilled to have seen him attempting to approach her. 

She hoped she hadn't lost her chance to hear what kind of voice a man like that held, and what it may sound like wrapped around her name. 

Hearing the beginnings of Misty's laugh, (Y/N) immediately joined in, having missed completely what she was laughing at but playing along anyway. Taking advantage of the moment, she turned her head just enough in hopes of catching sight of the peach scarf man from around Misty's back. 

But, he was gone. Even with his height, she was unable to catch even a single swirl of his brown hair among the sea of the other executives congregating around them. 

Before she had much of a chance to mourn the chance that had come and gone to know anything about this man, a scream sounding from beside the pool had her turning around. Misty and Mr. Vitacoma barely registered the noise, only offering fleeting glances in that direction before she was back to her half-flirting, half-schmoozing. (Y/N)'s jaw dropped when she saw what exactly had screeched beside the pool.

A woman with voluminous blonde hair and a drunken smile on her face had stripped down, her dress and undergarments sitting in a pile on the grass, and was running straight towards the pool. Those around the pool with drinks in their hands cheered her on, encouraging her just before she took a leap and splashed straight into the water. As soon as she surfaced, makeup running with her hair deflated and pasted her face, another round of raucous cheers cracked through the backyard. 

Flitting her eyes around, (Y/N) expected to see others sharing her shock. Instead, she found people either not paying attention at all or smiling on as if this was nothing more than the scheduled entertainment for the night. While (Y/N) wouldn't consider herself a complete prude (she'd seen a few French films over the years, and they were certainly not for the pearl-clutchers back home), but she couldn't believe no one shied away at the sight of the woman's naked body. Was there a memo that Misty forgot to let her in on? 

Nonetheless, (Y/N) found herself unable to pull her eyes from the commotion that was beginning over by the pool. It was as if the woman's display had been a gun firing off, signaling the start of the real party now that the sun had dipped and only the most fun remained for the rest of the festivities. 

Those that had previously been lounging by the pool started up with their own soirees, some downing the rest of the drinks they had their hands before stripping and joining the woman in the pool, or plain watching on with heated looks on their faces. Even some men dared to strip down and join in, giving (Y/N) a sight she'd truly never seen before with her eyes going wide. Some of the couples she'd seen before had turned their attention to one another, lips and tongues meeting with reckless abandon. Blatant sexuality was put on show among the low lighting and the moon sparkling above their heads. Despite being in Los Angeles for a little over nine months, she'd never seen anyone behave this openly, acting as if there was no one else around other than those they wanted to see. 

The most jarring came in the form of a trio—two women and one man—squeezed together on a pool lounger. The man had his arms around both of the women, but had his head bent towards one, kissing her with gusto. The other woman, skin a sparkling bronze with a thick headband holding back her curly hair, caressed her manicured hands across the lines of the redhead's body. The man didn't leave his other companion without, it appeared, his own brawny hand sliding down the cuff of her shoulder until it was dangling over the swell of her breast before brushing his fingers over where the peek had been hidden behind her dress. (Y/N) could spot the curly haired woman whispering something to the kissing pair, something quiet enough just for the three of them to hear just before the redhead smiled into the kisses though the man refused to break the contact and dove harder into the redhead's mouth. The curly haired woman looked at them with hooded eyes, eye shadow shimmering under the moonlight, as she reached out and combed her fingers through waves of red hair, fisting the strands back and out of her friend's face with a stiff tug. A blush touched the redhead's cheeks.

They moved as if they were on film. The touches from the curly-haired woman moved harmoniously with each caress from the redhead over the man's muscled chest, as if perfected from a script. A director could have been sat feet away, camera trained in their direction with the way every ideal angle was shown off to the rest of the party. (Y/N) wouldn't have been surprised if this whole night was nothing more than a setup for some magazine, a photographer waiting for the perfect moment before jumping out with a camera and the perfect lighting. 

As soon as the curly-haired woman leaned across the man's chest and pressed a lingering kiss to the redhead's shoulder, a hoot sounded from one of the other onlookers in the backyard. It was then that (Y/N) remembered she wasn't the only one here, the only one watching. She had been seeing something like an editorial photoshoot with these people—a bit scandalous of a subject, but nonetheless boundary pushing—but the sound of a cheering comment had brought her back to the present to see this for what it was.

The artistic, pretty filter she had seen the moment in vanished, leaving what was gearing up to be much raunchier of a scene than she was sure any of her French films had shown. 

Whipping her head away when the strap of the redhead's dress was pulled down, (Y/N) turned to see Misty and Mr. Vitacoma conversing with no indication that either of them cared to know what was going on behind their backs. 

"Mist," (Y/N) murmured, feeling only a little bad to be interrupting, "I'm going to go get a drink inside, okay?" 

Misty gave her a nod with a small smile. "Okay, I'll come find you later." 

With that, (Y/N) gave Misty and her executive a parting nod before scurrying away to head back inside, her eyes staying on her feet and nowhere near the pool. 

It was with a sigh of relief that (Y/N) closed the door behind herself. While there was much more commotion and bodies surrounding her inside the mansion, it was decidedly less pressure than whatever it was going on out there. Though she was alone this time around, which wasn't something she thought about until a group of men in suits passed her by, a few offering appreciative glances in her direction. 

This place seemed much bigger without Misty at her side. 

Meandering through the throngs of people and the puddles of liquor on the floor, (Y/N) wasn't sure where she was going, only that the closer she was to the backyard, the more clinging the atmosphere seemed to be. There were plenty of people around her, some with clear influence that she was sure she should have been using this opportunity to get to know, just like Misty brought her here for, but she continued on with no clear destination in mind. 

She didn't feel comfortable inserting herself in the cigar room, not when the men had poured out whiskey and the smoke had turned into something heavier. More faces littered the halls, getting more and more packed the darker the night grew. Sticking close to the walls, (Y/N) couldn't help the owlish blinks that fluttered her lashes as she took in the raucous patrons of the party. She was well aware of the parties and the night clubs that livened up downtown LA, but she never figured something like that could fit between the walls of someone's home. 

Inadvertently, she found herself approaching the first room she had Misty had spotted, full of women her age dancing and having fun with a bartender slinging drinks faster than the records spinning. While she wasn't exactly comfortable, this room felt a lot easier to wade through as opposed to the faux board meeting going on in the other with all of the smoking men. 

Keeping company with the fridges of the room, (Y/N) had the lingering thought that maybe she wasn't cut out for this kind of industry. Whether it be modeling or becoming a movie star, she figured she should be able to make conversation with practical strangers instead of marinating in her own excitement all by herself. A real model—a confident star—would have found the spotlight without hesitation and made a group of friends and connections that would land her somewhere even more glamorous than this mansion in the Hills. 

Instead, (Y/N) was stationed somewhere between the record player and the suede couch pushed against the walls, tucked out of the way and listening into the conglomeration of all of these conversations. 

Out of seemingly nowhere, a woman with towering dark hair and a sleek black dress entered her field of vision. She wore a bright smile and eyes that were a bit glossy, red veins spidering over her sclera. 

"Are you friends with Misty?!" she shouted, maybe a bit too loud even with the record player and sound system so close. 

Taken aback, a whiff of heavy liquor radiating from this girl's breath, (Y/N) gave a small nod. "Yeah, we work together." 

"That is so fun! I work with her sister, Angelica! Where is she?" The girl stumbled some on her heels, reaching out for (Y/N)'s shoulder to keep herself steady. 

"Angelica is seeing a friend tonight, so she couldn't make it," (Y/N) started, stifling her laughter over this woman's sudden friendship with her, "And, Misty's outside talking to some record label guy." 

Her mouth fell open, dark lashes fluttering. "Come hang out with me and my friends! You shouldn't be alone at a party like this! Oh my god, and you need a drink!" Every sentence tumbling out of this woman's mouth broadened (Y/N)'s smile. Other than some rowdy patrons at the restaurant, she wasn't around many drunk people, especially none this excitable. A gasp fell from her lips, stopping herself in her teetering heels with her hand clutched around (Y/N)'s shoulder. "Wait, what's your name?" 

"I'm (Y/N)," she smiled, "What's your name?" 

"Marguerite! Now, do you want to take shots or do you want an actual drink?" 

(Y/N) followed after Marguerite with a bubbling smile. She hoped she would be able to find her spotlight now. 

—————

Twirling in her boots, (Y/N) tossed her head back with her eyes closed. She could vaguely feel the condensation from the drink in her hand, glass slick in her hand. By the time she opened her eyes, dropping back into the moment with the group of women that had adopted her for the night, she couldn't figure out if the room was spinning because of her wiring or if it was her drinking. 

From working at the restaurant, and knowing enough bartenders through her journey of becoming known, she knew most bartenders tended to water drinks down to keep people coming for more and giving some hefty tips, but it didn't seem this man had received that memo. These cocktails were heavy, full of sour heat as soon as it touched her tongue before being doused out by the collection of juices and citrus mixed throughout. Initially, she had turned down taking shots with Marg and her friends, but she figured she could have just done that and made it to the same state she was currently in. 

But, that didn't matter. Anything from a couple of hours ago, no longer mattered. What mattered now was how each song she heard was now her favorite, every cocktail she tried was the best she'd ever had, and these girls were undoubtedly the best friends she'd ever had. (Y/N) was almost certain she'd never been this drunk before. 

A night of firsts, she figured; first networking opportunity she'd ever gone to, and the first time she'd been drunk enough that her heart and the record player in the corner were made of the same rhythms. 

She'd have to find her spotlight another time, it appeared. 

Suddenly, the weight of someone's hand settled on the small of her back. Seeing her friends—albeit a bit blurry—in front of her, she couldn't imagine who exactly would be comfortable enough to place their hands on her. 

Whirling around, the hem of her dress fluttering around her thighs, (Y/N) saw an unfamiliar face looking down at her. His hair was black like his suit, slicked back with enough product to make the strands appear wet. His eyes were just as dark and glassy, with the sclera full of red veins. 

It was a distant memory, from a version of herself that was sober and no longer here, (Y/N) remembered the men that had strategically placed themselves about the room in order to gain the perfect vantage point to watch the women drinking and socializing as if they were a show on the television set. None of them had been so bold to approach anyone yet, but it only took a quick glance towards Marg and the others to see this must have been a team effort, everyone a touch distracted by these unfamiliar men. 

"Hi, sweet thing," this man murmured, dipping his head unnecessarily close to her ear, "Having fun?" 

"Um—" 

"(Y/N)?" 

Snapping away from this man, (Y/N) clutched her drink. A breath of relief touched her lungs when she saw it was Misty who had called to her. She looked just as pristine as when they had arrived, dress still clinging to her form, hair perfectly straight without a strand out of place. (Y/N) doubted her lipstick was anywhere near as perfect as Misty's still was. 

"Mist! You're back!" (Y/N) cheered, grateful to be dismissing the man in favor of wrapping Misty in an enthusiastic hug. "Are you a singer now?!" 

Misty shot her a bubbling smile, the corners twitching as if she was trying not to be as happy as she currently felt. "I might be," she muttered, sheepish, "I have a meeting—a real one—with Mr. Vitacoma tomorrow morning. I need to get home so I can sleep at least a little before I head to the office." 

(Y/N) blinked, arms going limp around Misty. "Now?" 

"Yeah," Misty nodded, mind obviously elsewhere, "Do you have your stuff?" 

"Um," (Y/N) prattled, suddenly aware of her bag hanging from her elbow, "Yeah, but... I don't know, Mist. I'm kind of really drunk, I think." 

Misty seemed to suddenly take note of her friend's state and the cold drink in her hand. "Wait. How many drinks have you had?" 

"Three, I think," (Y/N) started, unwittingly beginning to sway to the new song that had started playing through the space, "But they're really strong." 

Fitting her bottom lip between her teeth, Misty's face twisted into worry. "You don't think you can drive, right now? It's almost two." 

Opening her mouth, (Y/N) felt like a guppy when she stood there and no words came. While she was far from sober, she was definitely beginning to feel the gravity of what Misty needed from her. She had a terribly exciting meeting set up for tomorrow morning, a real sit down with Mr. Vitacoma that would make her one of the voices etched into a vinyl. Misty had no idea how to drive, so (Y/N) needed to get her home before the sun started on the horizon. 

"I—um—hold on," she said, dropping her drink to sit on a random surface, "I think I need some air, and after that I can drive us home. Do you know if there's any food around?" 

Misty, working on one problem at a time, clutched (Y/N)'s hand and started towards the backyard. It was a deja vu moment, (Y/N) absently wondering what the grassy area had devolved into through the hours she had been inside. 

"Get some air, and I'll try to find some bread or something," Misty thought out loud, pushing open the glass door with their shoes clicking over the cement patio. 

The world spun a bit too fast for (Y/N) to catch anything going on around the pool, allowing her to simply follow after Misty as best she could in the boots that suddenly felt less than stable now that she wasn't dancing. Like a wobbly shadow, (Y/N) stayed close to Misty as she rounded to the side of the house, out of the way of the distant splashing and cheering from the pool. 

"Are you okay to stay right here?" Misty asked, stopping (Y/N) on a soft patch of grass between the main home and shed field with whatever it took to maintain lawns of this size. From here, she could spot the height of the trees that had welcomed them when they made it here hours earlier. 

(Y/N) nodded her head, sinking to sit down on the cool grass. "Where are you going?" 

Misty looked at her with wide eyes, bottom lip being chewed between her teeth. "To get you something to eat. And, water, probably." 

"Oh yeah," (Y/N) bubbled, a plume of laughter falling from her lips, "I'll be okay, I think." 

Her friend hesitated for a moment, steps starting and stopping with one more look at (Y/N) in the safety of the secluded space before starting off for the house. Left by herself with her bare legs laid in the cool blades of grass and the sky clear above her, (Y/N) took in deep breaths. 

Without smoke and thick humidity clogging the air, she was allowed a reprieve. Sitting here, she didn't feel all that drunk, but she doubted she would feel that stable if she made a move to stand up. Hopefully, whatever Misty found inside would help her get back on track, make it so she could have Misty home before the night had ended. 

Pulling her knees to her chest, (Y/N) tried to concentrate. She wanted her mind to slow, her gaze to even, and her body to feel like her own again. She couldn't drive like this, she knew, but Misty was relying on her. (Y/N) needed to figure out how to get this alcohol out of her system in record time. 

It was a frustrating goal, one she knew was going to be impossible to achieve when she couldn't get her gaze to focus on a miniscule chip in the white paint of the shed before her. Her gaze moved like the liquor that had sloshed in her glass inside. 

Was she going to have to drive like this? Would they even make it back if she did that? 

She hadn't realized her eyes had grown wet, tears puddling in her waterline until her sight ws that much more unreliable. She was frustrated and nervous, pressure coming from the fact that without a miracle, she was going to have to make sense of wavy lines while driving her friend home to prepare for the meeting of a lifetime. 

(She wasn't a perfect driver, anyway. She doubted she'd be much better when she wasn't one hundred percent sober). 

"Hey, are y'alright?" 

Whipping her head up, (Y/N) caught only a glimpse of the new guest of her spot before wincing. Moving the fast wasn't a good idea if she was working on getting her vision to quit swimming. 

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine," she stuttered, cracking her eyes open just enough to find the vague lines of who was standing before her, "I'm drunk." 

A breathy laugh filled the air. One (Y/N) knew—had been hyper aware of just hours ago. 

Blinking her eyes open, her vision having settled, she saw the man with the peach scarf. Right in front of her with the pretty green of his eyes trained on her, moonlight seeping through the swirls of his hair. 

He was British. Interesting. 

"Do y'want something to drink? It might be a good idea to eat something, too." The sharp planes of his face softened out, rounding with dimples in his cheeks and a kind smile curving his lips. 

"My friend, she's already grabbing so-something for me," she hiccuped, "You met her kind of; she was talking to your friend." 

Crouching to sit at her level, the man nodded his head. "She's something," he laughed, "Not many people come up to John like that. She has a meeting with him in the morning, right?" 

(Y/N) nodded her head, squinting when her vision when spiraling once more. "Yeah, so I need to drive her home, but I think I'm still drunk. She's getting me some water, and then we have to go." 

This man's reaction came in the form of a pinch settling between his brows, lips thinning. "She doesn't want to drive?" 

"She doesn't know how," (Y/N) clarified.

He didn't seem to like this extra information much more. His tone was gentle when he spoke again, everything softened in this accent she'd only ever heard on television. "I don't know if 's a good idea for y'to be driving tonight. Maybe, we can go inside and see if there's anywhere y'can sleep for the night." 

Reaching a broad hand out for her to take, he looked at her with encouraging eyes. (Y/N) shook her head. "I can't. She has that meeting in the morning and I have work tomorrow, we-we can't stay. I just need some water, and then I'll be okay." 

A heaved sigh fell from his lungs. "I don't think that's how it works, love." 

Before she could make heart eyes over the pet name he laid over her, (Y/N) saw a familiar form rounding behind her new friend. 

"(Y/N)? I've got your water. How are you feeling?" Stepping around the man with the peach scarf, Misty had water and what looked to be a glass of dry cereal in her hands. She gave a sidelong glance towards the man that was not there the last time she'd seen her friend. 

Lagging in response, (Y/N) blinked up at Misty. "I'm good—so much better! Let's go!" 

Just as she put on her performance with an attempt to get to her feet, her flimsy cover was blown as soon as she stumbled into Misty with her arms pinwheeling at her sides. With her hands full, Misty offered an arm towards (Y/N) to brace herself, but it was the man with the peach scarf that steadied her before she had a chance to fall flat on her face. He reached towards her, settling his palms on her shoulders with (Y/N) touching his chest over the thin material of his top. 

"(Y/N)!" Misty bubbled, eyes wide.

Blinking up at the man with her lashes fluttering around her uneven gaze, (Y/N) took in the sight of him with the moon acting as a halo behind his head. 

Was her mouth agape? Was she still touching him? Was she unbelievably drunk, or was the rest of the world a blur, except for him? 

"Are y'alright?" he murmured, concern dripping from his words. 

Back on earth, (Y/N) shook herself away from the man, their hands dropping to their sides though she swore she could still feel the creases of his palms and length of his fingers around her shoulders. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine," she insisted, turning her gaze towards Misty, "Sorry, just—hold on, I can take us home, just give me a second." 

Both Misty and the man gave her less than impressed looks. 

He was the first to move, looking towards Misty with a bounce to his brows. "Misty, right?" 

Despite (Y/N)'s clear favoring of him, Misty didn't knock the suspicious accusations from her eyes. "Yes. Why?" 

He shot her that dazzling smile, dimples and all. "I know y'have an appointment with John tomorrow morning, but she's not going to be well enough to drive tonight. It wouldn't be safe to head home before she's had a chance to sleep this off." 

Misty's shoulders dropped at the serious tone he served her. "But... I can't—We can't stay. I have to go home to get ready for that meeting, and she has to go to work." 

Pursing his lips, the man settled his hands on his hips as the gears in his head began to turn. "Where's home?" 

Even in her muddled head, (Y/N) could see the reluctance Misty held when she gave the general area they came from. 

He gave her a nod, lips still thinned. Peering through his lashes, he looked at Misty before offering a fleeting glance towards (Y/N). "I can take y'both home. I haven't had anything to drink tonight." 

Walls back up immediately, Misty gave an uncertain stare, brows pinched. She didn't have to say anything for man to start offering an alternative, (Y/N) letting out a plume of laughter. 

"Or, I can call a taxi? I can't guarantee anyone will be available, or how quick they'd make it out, but 'm more than happy to pay for it." Sincerity lit up his eyes. 

Misty didn't immediately have an answer, taking her turn to think over the direction the night had taken. The silence left (Y/N) a chance for the alcohol to wipe her own thoughts over the dilemma, her attention instead shifting to lay fully on the man that stood before her. 

Maybe it was the vodka shining in her eyes, but she swore something angelic began to shimmer from the edges of him. He really was so pretty, (Y/N) thought. Earlier hadn't just been the product of an excitable mind seeing a bunch of important people for the first time since her cross-country move, he really was gorgeous. 

Did he know that? Were enough people telling him that? Should she tell him? 

For the second time that night, she was caught staring at him. A twitching of a smile touched at the corner of his mouth, his eye dropping into a wink. 

She couldn't help herself, her own features brightening and molding into something giddy. She didn't need Misty to tell her what the best option was out of the two this man had presented, (Y/N) already had her favorite picked out. 

"You'd really t-take us home?" (Y/N) hiccuped through her smile, clasping her hands in front of her middle. 

"If that's what you'd prefer," he drawled, amusement dancing over his features as he took in her reaction. 

Before he could send a precursory glance towards Misty once more, (Y/N) piped up, "I prefer that! Please." 

A small plume of laughter fell from his lips at her outburst, Misty even taking a peek in her direction with a raised brow and half smile. 

"Please, Mist," (Y/N) pleaded, a bright smile on her face, "Isn't he so nice?"

Another small glance towards the man was given by Misty. "What's your name? I'm not getting in someone's car when I don't know their name." 

"'M Harry," he smiled, "And John is a good friend of mine, and he'd kill me if I messed up his schedule tomorrow by not getting you two home." 

"And, you're not crazy, right?" 

Another set of dimples touched his cheeks. "Not as far as I know." 

"Fine," Misty settled, "Thank you, Harry." 

"Thank you, Harry," (Y/N) parroted, a little too excitable.

Both Misty and Harry helped guide (Y/N)'s stumbling steps through the mansion, the water and cereal Misty grabbed for her being left behind as they made their way through the halls. More than once, she had the privilege of getting a touch from Harry's large hand on her arm or between her shoulder blades when her balance teetered.

He led them through the mansion and to the valet where a different attendant now stood at the station. Harry gave the man a small nod before taking them sharply away from the bank of cars that had been valeted out of the way, out of the way to a glossy forest green Cadillac. 

(Y/N) gaped in awe. She'd seen plenty of nice cars while living out here, but she'd never thought anyone actually drove them—not anyone real, like Harry, anyway. 

Harry made to stand by the passenger side, holding open the back door for them to slip inside. "This is yours?" she asked, "Like, you drive it and everything?" 

"I do, yeah. Like it?" 

"The color is really pretty," (Y/N) shared, holding back the detail that it reminded her of the flecks of darker hues in his eyes. 

"Thank you," he smiled.

Misty guided (Y/N) into the backseat then, following in to sit beside her a moment later. An amused look was on her friend's face. "You're a flirty drunk, huh?" 

"Am I?" (Y/N) bubbled. Was it terribly obvious she thought Harry was pretty?

"A little," Misty laughed just as Harry took his own spot behind the wheel. "But, it's alright. It's good for you—you don't do it enough." 

"Jus' straight home, right ladies?" 

"Yes, please." Misty reached ahead where a folded map was sitting on the bench of the passenger seat. "Do you want me to give directions?" 

Harry shrugged off the offer, "I think I've got it. Y'jus' keep an eye on her." 

Looking forward, into the rearview mirror, (Y/N) caught Harry's eyes on her, creases touching the corners as a smile spread over his lips. 

—————

"Bye, Mist. Call me tomorrow, please. I want to know how your meeting goes." 

"I will," Misty murmured, giving (Y/N) a tired hug before she started inching towards the door, "When you get home, eat something and have some water before you go to sleep. And take off your makeup." 

As much as (Y/N) wanted to stick to Misty's instructions, she knew herself well enough to know that those words had gone right through her. Nonetheless, she nodded her head. "Okay. Love you." 

"Love you, too." Pushing the door open, Misty took a glance over her shoulder towards Harry in the front seat, who was fiddling with the radio dials on the dashboard. "Thank you for driving us home, Harry. I'm happy you aren't crazy." 

"Me too," he smiled, turning to face her, "'M happy I could get y'home safely. Let me walk y'up." 

(Y/N) watched as Harry escorted her friend up to her front door, giving her a perfect view of all of the lines of his body. Being cramped up in his car almost made her forget the full length of his height. As if there wasn't enough she would be thinking about once she was at her apartment. 

Taking his seat back in the front seat once Misty was inside safely, Harry turned to look at (Y/N) over the bench seat. "Wanna sit up here with me? Or are y'comfortable back there?" 

She didn't even have to think before she was scrambling to make her new spot at his side. "I wanna sit with you." 

Although she'd never thought of herself as particularly funny, Harry seemed to think she was hilarious. Everything she said drew a laugh out of him. 

Nonetheless, she hopped out of the backseat and found her new spot up in the passenger side of the bench seat beside Harry. Turning the key in the ignition, he pulled away from the curb of Misty's house before shooting a quick glance towards (Y/N).

"Want to find some music for us? I can only listen to the same advertisements so many times, you know," Harry prompted, nodding to the radio with a dip of his chin. 

"The McDonald's one is the worst," (Y/N) bubbled, reaching over to play with the dials, "It's always on." 

Harry agreed with a hum, following the directions Misty had given before she left for the night to head towards (Y/N)'s apartment. "What kind of music do y'like?" 

"Anything fun," (Y/N) offered, shooting him a bright smile, "But, I really love The Zombies right now." 

Perking up at her words, Harry glanced at her as he came to a stop sign. "The Zombies? What's your favorite song?" 

(Y/N) couldn't help the bubbling of conversation that sprouted from her lips then, the radio dials left behind in favor of talking with Harry. He was the perfect listener, even while he was carefully getting her home, she didn't doubt he was listening in. More than once, she wasn't sure if he was only being kind given the fact she was bubbly with alcohol, but he encouraged her ramblings, feeding her his own opinions and asking her what she thought. (Y/N) could have stayed curled up in this space for much longer than the short ten minutes between her apartment and Misty's home. 

By the time he pulled up to her apartment building, (Y/N) almost wanted to pout. 

Only the hum of the engine sounded as he paused in his seat, pulling his wallet from the pocket of his trousers. Casualy, he thumbed through the bills he had ticked inside the leather, grabbing more than (Y/N) would make in tips even during a busy Friday night shift at the restaurant. He passed the wad off to her.

"Use this to take a taxi to get your car tomorrow," Harry instructed, giving her a soft smile, "I know y'didn't really plan on leaving it overnight, so I'd like to take care of the drive back for you." 

(Y/N) hesitated. "Are you sure? That's kind of a lot." 

He shrugged, "'S my fault y'left it. I don't mind." 

Gingerly, she pulled the cash out of his hand. "Are you going to be there tomorrow?" 

"Probably not," he smiled, another laugh from his lungs. 

Juxtaposing his amusement, the beginnings of a pout touched her lips. "So, I won't see you again." 

"Not tomorrow," he clarified, raising a brow, "But, maybe soon." 

Just like he did for Misty, Harry walked (Y/N) up to the door of her building, keeping her from stumbling up the stairs that led to the glass door. 

"You're alright to get up by yourself, or do y'want me to go with you?" 

As much as she would have liked to get him to spend a handful of minutes more with her, (Y/N) shook her head. He'd done a lot for her tonight already. "I'll be okay, but thank you. For everything tonight. You kind of saved the day for Misty. 

"'S easier this way," he smiled, "And much more fun than trying to kick people out of the house with John doing nothing to help." 

"Is he your best friend?" (Y/N) asked, stalling a bit despite her better judgment. 

"A little," Harry said, lifting his shoulders in a shrug, "But he definitely doesn't have as good of taste in music as y'do." 

Much like the first time she spotted him this evening, (Y/N) felt her skin warm at his words. "If you get a chance to listen to that album, let me know what you think." 

"I definitely will, love. But, you've got to get to bed first." 

"Right," she said, attempting to sober up with a nod, "Thank you again." 

"Of course, (Y/N). Goodnight." 

Harry waited until she was safely inside, where she went on to practically float up the stairs with the sound of his accent wrapped around her name echoing in her head. Now in the quiet of her apartment, among her things, the bubbling excitement she'd felt throughout the evening simmered down to a dreamy haze. 

She'd had one of the most fun nights she'd had since moving to the city, and it ended with her being taken care of by one of the most beautiful men she'd ever seen. After tugging off her boots, she pulled out the cash he'd given her, counting out the abundant amount of bills he'd passed off to her. Thumbing through them, she stopped when she reached the middle of the wad, where a thick white business card was tucked between. 

Separating the cash from the card, (Y/N) flipped it over to find black script printed over the paper. 

Harry Styles. 

She didn't even try to bite back the wide smile touching her lips.

—————

brigitte bardot, model, actress, and singer; a timeless icon of the 60's

ahhhhh! so happy to finally share this little part of bardot with you guys! once again this is a patreon exclusive with every part after this one only being available on my page! thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and if you have any fun ideas please send them in!!!

[adore-laur]

DADRRY: PART ONE

— just harry being a doting dad & husband 🍓

——

Saturday nights haven't been this peaceful in a while. Harry and your daughter left home about an hour ago to attend a father-daughter dinner organized by a group of parents at the daycare, so you're left by your lonesome to enjoy a relaxing time without your child's newly developed and daily tantrums. She's two-and-a-half years old, meaning it's out with the newborn bliss and in with the "Terrible Twos" phase every mom has warned you about. 

She was always an easy baby; she never cried for too long or was fussy too often. There's no doubt that she's still the sweetest little thing, but some days, it can be a nightmare to deal with her. You're thankful for her otherwise reserved nature, but even then, a toddler will do anything to get what they want, and your daughter is no exception. 

Nonetheless, you and Harry handle it as a team. Both of you choose to deal with her sudden outbursts by using a calm and understanding approach. She listens most of the time. If she got one trait from her father, it's the ability to be an annoyingly good listener and hang on to every word you speak. With Harry, it's always complete eye contact, well-placed affirmations, and asking all the right questions. You suppose it's because of his job, but he claims he was just naturally born with it. 

Having been together for seven years, you and Harry have lived a beautifully intimate life on the coast of southern California, consisting of no neighbors, a secluded beach, and your little family of three. Harry works as a sous chef at a restaurant on the outskirts of town. He used to be the head chef before your daughter came into the world, but the wearisome hours he worked then would have never worked out with being a new father. He still hasn't accepted his old title back, much to your secret dismay. When he decided to demote himself, he suffered from a salary decrease and disappointed comments from co-workers. He didn't care, though. He told you that if it meant he had more time to spend with you and the baby, he would selflessly accept the consequences. 

During your postpartum days, he promised never to have a shift that had him arriving home after five in the evening unless necessary. It was a promise to always be with you for dinner, to watch the sun dip down the horizon, and to fall asleep next to you. He sometimes comes home in a palpable mood of frustration after a hectic shift, but as soon as he walks through the door and sees his girls, it's like magic the way his visibly tense shoulders sag with relief. 

There are instances when both of you need an independent getaway, but most of the time, it's the three of you together in your domestic bubble of love. You've never known a man quite like Harry. Nothing compares to his heart or drive to be the best possible husband, dad, and son. Also, you appreciate how he's so attentive and gentle with every part of your lives and how he'd go against that gentleness if needed to fight tooth and nail for his family. You've built a life worth living with him. He's yours entirely. 

And yes, his daughter has stolen some of that love, but each night before you fall asleep, it's like he can transfer every ounce of love in his precious heart to you with a simple touch. Or a single glance topped off with the softest kiss. 

As you sit alone by the blazing fire, you realize that nights spent by yourself no longer appeal to you. You want your family next to you all the time. You want your daughter to ask a million questions, mostly incomprehensible blabbering, but it melts your heart anyway. You want to watch Harry cook dinner, always putting on his actual chef coat and reading a recipe in a terrible French accent, just to make your daughter laugh. You want to watch him put a spaghetti noodle below his nose to act as a mustache, or watch him keep your daughter on his hip while letting her add an ingredient to a dish. Then, when she does, he looks at her with faux surprise and tells her she's better at his job than he is. 

Yet when your chef husband isn't home to make delicious food, you're stuck making frozen pizza. You considered having a glass of wine with it but decided not to because waking up on a Sunday morning with a pounding headache and a cranky toddler at the breakfast table is not something you want to deal with. 

With a reminiscent glint in your eyes, you finish the last slice and think about what they could be doing now. It's a little after seven, so you assume they're done eating dinner and socializing with the other dads and kids. Harry had said the restaurant was connected to a botanical garden, so they might be walking through it. Your daughter is probably exhausted. She woke up at five this morning and has been hyper all day, asking if she could go to dinner now, even if it wasn't lunchtime. 

You decide to text him and ask if he could take some pictures in the garden. Your and Harry's camera roles are filled with images of your daughter. 

I hope you guys are having fun! Please take some pictures of you both at the botanical garden. Miss and love you. Get home safe. 

You shut your phone off and stare at the moonlit water, waiting for your favorite people to come home. 

—— 

Harry is waiting for the check when he gets your text message. His phone screen lights up, displaying his lock screen, which is a photo of him and his baby girl on a hotel bed in Italy. They're both wearing fluffy white robes and are passed out from a long day of swimming under the sun and eating a boatload of food. 

That family vacation was six months ago. It was her second birthday, so he wanted to go somewhere special. Let's just say that being a chef at a nice restaurant has its perks. He had saved a lot of money after he started working more hours. Then, one day, he secretly bought three plane tickets to the Amalfi Coast.

Harry wants to go back more than anything. He has never felt more content and full of love (and carbs) anywhere else except for Italy. He swears he gained ten pounds from that trip alone, and he blames it on his daughter, who begged for raspberry gelato and ciabatta bread every chance she got. He had wanted to go back to the gym to lose weight, but you changed his mind when you told him on the last day in Italy that you found his new body attractive. You had also whispered in his ear that his thighs were thickening, and it was making you hot in the face. 

So, naturally, he took you into the shower, had you ride his thigh, and then made you come twice in twenty minutes. 

But that's beside the point. 

Harry reads your text, smiles, and then types out a response. Of course, love. We'll be home soon. We're full of spaghetti and love you very much. 

It's getting late, so he settles on taking the little rascal for a stroll through the gardens before she zonks out. He untucks his black shirt from his trousers, leans back against the chair, and rubs his hands over his stomach. It was a spaghetti dinner with seemingly endless garlic bread, so they are both now feeling the after-effects. 

Harry lets out a dramatic sigh that catches his daughter's attention. "Are you full?"

She mimics his position while nodding with a pout on her face. He laughs and starts folding his sunglasses in his shirt pocket, which he wore before it started getting dark out. He pushes their dirty dishes toward the middle of the table to make things easier for the busser. He then leaves a fifty-dollar bill as a tip. 

Reclaiming his credit card from the checkbook and putting it between his teeth, he grabs the coloring sheet the restaurant supplied and tucks it under his arm. He knows she'll want it on the fridge. 

He returns his credit card to his wallet and asks, "Ready to see the pretty flowers before we leave?" She hums a yes, and he can't help but reach across the table to pinch her cheek fondly before standing. "Let's go, sleepy girl." 

She lifts her arms in a request to be carried, and Harry picks her up with a groan. He's only thirty-one, so he really shouldn't be struggling to carry his daughter, who weighs the same as a sack of potatoes. He supposes that working in a kitchen and hunching over counters all day for the past decade might have something to do with it.

He hikes her up on his hip while she snakes her arms around his neck and rests her head on his shoulder. She'll be asleep in a matter of minutes. 

After he pushes their chairs in, he waves goodbye to the other daycare fathers before making a beeline for the commercial kitchen to bid adieu to the staff. He's friendly with some of them since he's a local chef himself, and he always tries to show his appreciation to chefs. He knows firsthand the hard work and stress of successfully running a restaurant behind the scenes.

Harry pushes the door open using his elbow and quickly catches the gaze of the head chef, whom he has talked to a few times at past culinary conventions and events. He takes his free hand and covers his daughter's exposed ear since it's noisy in the kitchen, with metal clanging and orders being shouted.

"Hi," he says, smiling politely at the head chef. "We're heading home, so I just wanted to give my thanks. The food and service were excellent." 

"Harry, it was good seeing you!" he replies cheerfully, reaching under a stainless steel countertop. "Stop by again soon. We love having your family here." 

"Will do, man. I'll bring my missus next time." 

Harry plans date nights every other week, usually finding restaurants he's never visited in the SoCal region. You've told him he gets endearingly talkative when explaining certain establishments' different cuisines and recipes. The restaurant he's at tonight has always been a favorite because he's taken you there a handful of times when the both of you were still in the early stages of dating. He even worked there as an assistant chef for two years. 

On the third date he took you on, if he remembers correctly, he may or may not have convinced his boss at the time to let him take you back to the kitchen so he could show you how to make chocolate-covered strawberries. You'd told him you had made them before, and he blushed while mentally facepalming himself; he thought he was being clever. That didn't stop him, though, because he ended up pulling something out of thin air. Turn up his charm, so to speak, by saying that his version of the classic recipe was extra special. 

Well, he had lied. 

They were just regular chocolate-covered strawberries, but he pushed up his sleeves (metaphorically and literally) and used fancy chef jargon to try to impress you. It worked—at least he thought so. Later, you admitted that you were actually just ogling his biceps every time he dipped the fruit into the melted chocolate. 

Once the strawberries were finished, Harry wrapped them up nicely and drove you home from the date. He fed you one before you got out of his beat-up Subaru, the only thing he could afford as a broke assistant chef. He will never forget you walking to your front door, half the strawberry still in hand, and then seeing you suddenly turn around to return to his window to feed him the last half. He had taken it in his mouth, chewing after taking a strangely erotic bite. He smirked at you and glanced down at your lips, which were stained a glistening red from the tart juices. 

"You're something else," he'd said sincerely, his voice raspy from work. 

"And you just scored another date with me."

From that moment on, he was gone for you. 

After shaking hands with the other chefs, Harry leaves the restaurant and walks to his Bentley. He rationally decides to skip out on the botanical garden tonight because he wants her to be fully awake to see the blossoming flowers. 

He unlocks the back door and gently straps her in, tucking her favorite blankie under her chin as she sleepily blinks at him. His heart melts into a puddle. "Let's go home to Mama, okay?" he murmurs, brushing her wispy hair back with a delicate sweep of his fingers. "I had such a fun time with you tonight." 

She yawns as ferociously as a toddler physically can, then lunges her arms forward for a hug. Harry hugs her the best he can with her in the car seat. He inhales her apple-scented shampoo while pressing kisses to the side of her head and then pulls away, poking her button nose with his thumb. 

"I love you this big," he says, spreading his arms as wide as possible. 

She giggles and copies his gesture. "Love big too," she replies brokenly with her sweet voice. 

Harry puckers his lips and kisses the air before sliding into the driver's seat. He takes out his phone to send you a quick update: She's in a spaghetti coma, so we're coming home now. We can go to the garden as a family next weekend. 

Pressing send, he smoothly pulls out of the parking lot and drives along the coastal highway with slightly cracked windows. He listens to his daughter's soft snores and thinks of you the entire way home with a dreamy smile.

—— 

You're still sitting by the fire, its flames dying with flickering embers, when you hear the garage door grinding open. You grin, immediately feeling warmer now that they're back home.

You had briefly gone inside to get a juice pouch for your daughter, just in case she came back awake. You also spontaneously decided to make chocolate-covered strawberries since you felt sentimental while reminiscing about the honeymoon phase of your relationship with Harry. 

The sound of footsteps sifting through the sand makes you turn your head. You find your husband with a sleeping angel clung to his side, his shirt untucked, and no shoes or socks on; he probably didn't want sand in his loafers. The shadow of scruff on his face is more noticeable, and the orange light from the campfire dances off his features. He looks at you, a soft smile gracing his lips as he carefully treads through the beach grass to reach you.

"I've got a delivery," he whispers, sitting next to you on the blanket you spread out. "She's unconscious and full of spaghetti, so I don't think she'll be useful to you." 

You laugh quietly and stare at your baby, who is sleeping peacefully. Your knuckles stroke her round cheeks as you ask, "How was it?"

"Good. I ate my weight in pasta and bread, but it was worth it. We had fun." 

You sling your arm around his waist and pat his stomach. "I'm glad you guys spent some time together." 

He hums thoughtfully, unbuttoning his trousers to release the strain. "I need to start watching what I eat and cut down on the carbs. Otherwise, I'll look like Santa in five years." 

He says it like he's joking, but you know he's been insecure about his weight since you were pregnant. He naturally put on sympathy weight during the nine months you carried the baby, and then afterward, it simply reached a point where he never had time to work out, whether being too busy working or spending his free time with you and the baby. He ate healthily, but some nights, he caved and ate carbs like there was no tomorrow. Plus, he's a chef, so you can't necessarily blame him for enjoying food.

When you met him seven years ago, he was twenty-four and had skinny legs and a slim torso. But if one thing hasn't changed about his body, it's his strong arms. They've held you through several situations — hugging you whenever you needed a companion, feeling the natural warmth radiating from him. Or holding your baby girl for the first time, his black tattoos beautifully contrasting the precious pink blanket that swaddled her. He could easily cradle her in one arm, fitting perfectly in the crook of his elbow like she belonged there. She still does. 

Or, arguably, your favorite, which is when he holds your body up, your back pressed against his chest, as he fucks you like no one else can. His bicep across your collarbones, his hand gripping your shoulder like he's physically claiming you, and his other hand gripping your hip, your inner thigh, your stomach...

You're getting carried away. 

The point is that his body is lovely. He still has abs from being generally fit and strong thighs that can chase after your daughter during playtime. His back muscles are masterfully sculpted from the physical exertion that goes into being a chef. His flawless face, too, but that goes without saying.

"I love your body," you say, wanting him to feel good about himself. "No matter the changes it's gone through, I adore all of your soft parts." 

He looks at you, trying to hold back a smirk. Of course, his mind immediately went to a dirty place. 

"I'm being serious. You're allowed to have insecurities. Remember when you felt bad eating all those carbs in Italy? What did I tell you?" 

Harry gazes at the ocean tide. "I was thinking about that at dinner tonight. When I saw my lock screen, I thought about that trip." He sighs and adds, "I don't know why I'm insecure when you're the only one I try to impress." 

You stare at him with nothing but adoration swimming in your eyes. "Are you feeling these insecurities because of the dinner? With all the dads there?"

He leans forward and kisses your forehead. "Why are you so fuckin' smart? I swear you're too good for me," he says with a breathtaking smile.

"I just want you to talk through these things," you explain, touching his neck. "I know how miserable it can be to keep those thoughts bottled up until the bottle breaks." 

Your thumb strokes along his jaw as you continue, "You're thirty-one. It's never too late to realize those insecurities and either come to peace with them or work on them. You know I'll always help you with whatever you decide." 

Harry exhales through his nose and settles his forehead on your shoulder. "Never stop talking to me," he says sincerely, kissing your skin tenderly.

You pinch his chin with your thumb and pointer finger. He moves his head to gently nip the pad of your thumb before kissing it. "I love you." 

"I know it," he whispers. "I just compare myself to rich, douchebag dads that own literal corporations and would probably ask me to be their personal chef in their ridiculous mansions if they knew what I did for a living." 

You offer him a sympathetic smile. He shouldn't look down on his career. It pays well, but it's nothing compared to the So-Cal dads who own Lamborghinis and have a million different job titles. 

"Harry, don't make me use my mom voice," "you say in a scolding tone. 

He grins delightedly. "I don't mind." 

"I've been with you for seven years. I was your girlfriend, married you, and pushed out a baby because I wanted a family with you. Your job doesn't matter to me in the way you're thinking. I love that you're a chef. When you first told me, I told my friends how hot I thought it was. I still find it hot." 

He's full-on blushing now. You continue, "You come home and are in such a good mood most days. Do you know why? Because you love what you do. You love the people, the food you make, and the environment, which matters most. Not money or how many cars you own. Without hesitation, you made the difficult decision to step down from being in charge so we could start a family together. You have no idea how much that meant to me. Now you have a daughter who watches you cook her favorite meals and loves you insanely. That's what you should be proud of. And that's what all those other dads should be jealous of." 

Harry's gaze flicks between your eyes before he kisses you with so much passion that you feel dizzy. You kiss him back, and he inhales like he's breathing you in. Your daughter is still asleep, so you pull away before it escalates. 

He finishes with a big kiss on your cheek, then rests his cheek against yours. "I love you so much," he whispers into your ear for only you to hear. "I'm pretty sure you just gave me a love boner." 

You laugh, feeling his dimple form against your cheek. He leans back to look at you and shakes his head. "No joke," he says, infectious laughter crawling up his throat. "You just made me hard by telling me how much you love me." 

You roll your eyes playfully before standing and stretching your back. "Yeah, yeah. Let's get her to bed." 

Harry stands and hikes up your daughter a little. With a frown, he glances down at his pants when he realizes they're still unbuttoned. He obviously can't button them with one arm preoccupied with sleeping beauty, so you help him. You lift his shirt an inch to kiss his soft stomach first, then rest your chin on it and look up at him with a smile. After admiring his handsome face for a moment, you button his pants.

Your daughter is carefully passed from his arms to yours for a brief cuddle session before she has to be tucked into bed. Harry throws an arm around your shoulders and guides you inside the house. His steps falter when he retrieves a coloring sheet and gives it to you. It's a simple one that restaurants provide, and this particular one has a scene of two bunnies frolicking in the grass. It is what it is for a toddler with no concept of artistry, and you smile proudly when you take it from him. You'll hang it on the fridge with her other scribbled creations. 

Harry opens the porch door and lets you inside first before locking it. He turns on the lamp in the living room. Then, as if reading your mind, he grabs tape from the junk drawer and attaches the drawing to the fridge. While he tidies the kitchen, you head in the opposite direction toward her bedroom.

After a few minutes, you see Harry in your peripheral vision and pat the floor in invitation. He kneels beside you, his knees cracking. He dramatically lets out a fake cry of pain, and you silently laugh while flicking his chest. He opens his mouth in offense, acting as if you just insulted him, to which you just shake your head and gesture zipping his mouth shut. He slyly smacks your ass, and you give him a warning glare before standing and kissing your daughter goodnight. 

Before you leave the room, you get revenge by tickling Harry's sides from behind and then quickly running out of the room. You know how much he hates being tickled, but you were feeling the mutual playfulness that always trickles around bedtime. You reach the bedroom, hearing his heavy footsteps down the hallway. He pokes his head past the doorway to the master bedroom. You look at him with wide eyes and sit at the edge of the bed, waiting for his next move. 

Harry saunters through the doorway while looking around and nonchalantly whistling a tune with his arms behind his back. He walks to the connected master bathroom, your eyes trained on him the entire time. He turns around to close the sliding door just enough so that you still have a partial view of him.

"What?" he asks innocently, catching your eyes in the bathroom mirror. He's messing with you. And making you sweat.

"What are you doing?" you retort, crossing your legs partly to act unaffected and to ease the ache between your legs. 

He casually leans against the jamb. "Let's see... someone left me with quite a problem, so I thought I'd take care of it before bedtime like the gentleman I am," he says smugly, maintaining a stellar poker face. 

"What do you suppose I do while I wait?" you reply, confident enough to play his game. 

He deeply hums while standing straight and removing his trousers. With his thighs on display, you admire the tattoos there—a tiger on one and your name on the other. "I suppose you could get some sleep. Perhaps read. Whatever you'd like, darling, I'm not picky." He now stands in black boxers and a loose T-shirt. So cocky. 

"And what will you be doing if I decide to sleep or read?" you challenge, sliding up on the bed to lean against the headboard. 

Harry lets a smirk take over his face as he says, "What would you like me to do, honey?" 

"I'd like you to not be in there alone." 

"Will you be a good girl while I take care of the little problem you gave me?" 

"Of course, baby. You know I always am." 

One side of his mouth tugs up as he slowly nods, seemingly agreeing with you. "Always so good," he whispers, just loud enough to hear. He inhales deeply before turning around frustratingly slowly, finally pulling his shirt and boxers off. He's tan from the daily sunshine, and his back muscles flex with each subtle movement. Your mouth quickly goes dry. 

He disappears to turn the shower on but leaves the door open, which you know is an invitation. You had already changed into your silk pajama shorts and a tank top while he was in the kitchen, so you shut your bedroom door before entering the bathroom. 

Oh. 

The sight has your breath hitching. Harry's silhouette is behind the steamed, see-through shower door. One hand on the wall, the other... well, he didn't even wait for you. He has already started. You hear his quiet groans being stifled by his mouth buried in his arm, causing hot and bothered tingles to prickle your skin. 

You don't think he sees you yet, so you take your pajamas off and quietly close the bathroom door. For some reason, you suddenly remember you have chocolate-covered strawberries in the fridge. You leave him to his fun and quickly grab a towel to wrap around you before walking to the kitchen. You open the refrigerator, grab two strawberries, and then shuffle back into the bathroom. As you drop the towel, you realize he's still going. You didn't think you got him worked up that much just by talking about how good of a person he is. Each to their own. 

After hastily eating one of the strawberries, you gently knock on the glass. Harry stops abruptly and rests his face on his arm. He slightly cracks open the door to see and hear you. It takes everything in you to not look down. 

"Hi," you say quietly. "I'm here." 

He's breathing heavily, water dripping down his slick body. Wet strands of hair fall over his forehead as his eyes bore into yours. "You are, aren't you?"

You subtly glance down at the problem you gave him; it's throbbing and needs assistance. You're sure he will disapprove of you interrupting his session with a dessert offering. 

With your eyes focused on the floor, you absentmindedly draw a heart in the steam evaporating on the glass shower door and say, "I made dessert when you guys were gone." When spoken out loud, your sentimental baking idea seems stupid. "I almost forgot about them and then remembered they were in the fridge, so I brought you one. I was reminiscing about when we started dating and thought about the strawberries. Anyway..."

You're rambling too much. He was pleasing himself, and here you come, waltzing in with dessert while stumbling over words like you just met him. You need to get it together. 

Harry is still looking at you with his chest heaving, his left arm taut, and his large hand pressed against the shower wall, while his other hand still grips his cock. His piercing eyes have become darker, and they peer down at your hand holding the strawberry. The chocolate at the tip is gradually melting. His eyes travel even further down to your bare legs, then to the heart you drew. His lips twitch. 

When his gaze meets yours again, his tongue presses into his cheek before he straightens his posture. He steps toward the crack in the door and leans slanted against the shower wall, his naked body shamelessly in full view. 

You wait for him to interact with the Strawberry of Nostalgia, but he just looks at you smugly. Jutting your hand further, you indicate that he should take it again. It feels like he's secretly judging you. He's barely said anything, and now he's gazing at you like he wants to eat you for dessert. 

"The chocolate might melt off since it's pretty steamy in here," you mention with a nervous and breathy giggle. 

Harry regards the strawberry again before moving his head toward you. "Yeah?" he says with a wicked smirk. 

"Yeah," you reply, refusing to look into his eyes. "They haven't been in the fridge for very long." 

He laughs huskily, then clears his throat. "Well, I'm waiting right here, darling. I'm not a huge fan of melted and mushy chocolate-covered strawberries." 

So, he wants you to feed it to him. Like you did all those years ago when you first realized you were so gone for him. Good lord.

The steam in the bathroom is not helping your feverish body temperature. You take a few deep breaths before touching Harry's swollen lips, which you assume he's been biting on to suppress his noises. He maintains intense eye contact with you as he slightly opens his mouth. You guide the strawberry into it, and he bares his teeth while sensually biting the fleshy fruit. 

Once half of it is in his mouth, he tilts his head and chews slowly. He groans, his eyes rolling back. "So fuckin' good." 

You eat the other half to move the tension along, then throw the leafy stem on the ground. On trembling legs, you step away and admire the water droplets on Harry's lips that turn pink from the juices. 

His thumb and pointer finger wipe the creases near his mouth. He then reaches through the door's crack and brushes his slick thumb across yours before sucking on it. In desperate need of relief, you clench your thighs and shakily exhale. 

"I'll be good," you plead, utilizing your angelic eyes to get him to give in. "I won't touch you, but please let me watch." 

Harry tuts. "Are you sure you'll just watch? Or are you going to be a brat like you were with that little stunt you pulled earlier?" 

It's no surprise he's still hung up on the tickling. His ego can't take what he dishes out. God forbid he teases you because you know his precious pride will be crushed as soon as you do it back.

You bite your tongue and promise yourself to be good for him. "I'm sorry for doing that. I didn't mean to be a brat. I swear I'll behave this time." 

He beckons you by curling his fingers inward. "Come here, then."

You slide open the door further until you can squeeze through, then shut it tightly before standing across from him. The shower is spacious with a built-in bench--both of you have done your fair share of indecent activities on it. 

"Hey," Harry says lowly. "Be my good girl and sit. No talking or touching, okay? Watch me until I finish."

Nodding, you obediently sit on the bench and cross your legs to relieve the subtle pressure growing between them. You glance at Harry with innocent eyes that you know will weaken him. He gives in for a split second when he leans down and places his hands on either side of your thighs, nudging his nose against your cheek before kissing it roughly. You try not to smile at his momentary infirmity. 

"Stay put, or I'll walk out of here and go straight to bed," he warns, resuming the position you walked in on, except this time he's right in front of you. His palm on the shower wall is closest to you, with his other hand gripping his cock. 

This is going to be torture.

——

[goldfades]

38. "stay with me, please? i need you tonight. maybe for the rest of my life, if you're generous."

with jamie!

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 | jd⁹

♡ ─ word count | 1.6k

♡ ─ warnings | hurt/comfort, ANGST!! jamie being an asshole (but it was lowkey justified), mention of his injury/trade :((, thats all!

♡ ─ ev's notes | okay listen i forgot the prompt but the last few paragraphs basically describe what the prompt conveys if that makes sense, i still hope u enjoy it nonnie 😭🩷

Jamie had a pretty hard season, with him moving to Philadelphia unexpectedly and him being injured had really gotten to him. He's spent the last two weeks at home recovering and trying to get better as soon as he could, he wanted to be back on the ice as soon as possible. His injury added another layer of frustration. The pain, both physical and emotional, weighed heavily on him. Hockey had always been his sanctuary, and the forced break on top of the trade felt like the whole universe was against him.

You entered the condo, sighing with exhaustion. The last couple months had been frustrating for you as well, but it didn't even come close to how Jamie was feeling. As you entered the small condo, you heard the shower running and assumed it was Jamie.

You put down everything and began starting on dinner, Jamie probably hadn't eaten anything except breakfast. You were worried for him, more than you could ever express. You'd always had faith in him even in the lowest of the lows but he had never been this low in his entire career. He'd always been a determined person but right now, it really did feel like the odds were stacked up against him.

You wanted to do everything in your power to make him happy again, even if it was for a fleeting moment before the world closing on him again. The smell of a home-cooked meal began to fill the air as you moved around the kitchen, chopping vegetables and preparing a comforting dish.

As you worked, your thoughts lingered on Jamie's struggles - the trade, the injury, and the emotional toll it all took on him. You understood the importance of hockey in his life, how it served as a source of purpose. Tonight, you wanted to provide not just a meal but a reminder that he wasn't alone in this struggle, no matter what happens.

As your timer beeped, indicating that dinner was ready, you set the table, adorned with comforting dishes. The shower turned off, and soon Jamie emerged, his weariness evident in his movements. You gave him a warm smile, opening up your arms for a hug.

"I made your favorite,"

He slumped down to your height and embraced you tightly, sighing. You let him hug you before he slipped away from the embrace, and you could feel the tension in his shoulders as he did. The weariness in his pretty eyes spoke volumes, but so did the gratitude for the effort you put into making the evening a little brighter.

"Thank you," Jamie murmured, his voice a mixture of fatigue and appreciation. He walked over to the table and sat down as you brought waters from the fridge before sitting with him.

"How was your day?" You asked gently as you settled into the seat, glancing up to watch him.

"It was fine." He responded shortly as he began eating the food, avoiding your gaze. You knew he didn't want to come off bitter but it stung, you tried your best to not to take it personal. "You?"

"Oh, you know, the usual," you replied with a light chuckle, trying to maintain a casual tone. "Work had its moments, but nothing too exciting. I did manage to catch up with Maya over the phone today, she said she missed us back in California."

You knew you had messed up as you heard Jamie's fork hit the plate, the sound echoing throughout the apartment. Shit, I shouldn't have mentioned California. You looked up and caught his tired gaze as he sighed.

"I'm sorry," you offered softly, regret lacing your words. "I didn't mean to bring up anything that might upset you. It's just habit to share little updates about people we know, you know?"

Jamie took a deep breath, and you could see the effort it took for him to compose himself. "It's okay," he finally replied, though the strain in his voice betrayed the words. "I just... miss the way things used to be."

His vulnerability hung in the air, and you felt a pang of empathy. The unexpected move to Philadelphia had disrupted not only his career but also the familiar life you both had in California. You reached across the table, gently placing your hand over his. "I miss it too, Jamie. But we'll make new memories here. It just takes time."

He sighed and pulled his hand away from yours, your chest squeezing in hurt. He took the fork and continued to eat, choosing to stay silent. You didn't know why he was being so distant, so cold. You hated it but you couldn't resent him for it, you knew it wasn't his fault. That still didn't mean it didn't hurt, though.

The room seemed to shrink with the silence, the only sound was the clinking of cutlery against the plate. The unspoken tension between you and Jamie hung heavy in the air and despite your attempt to offer comfort, he withdrew further into his thoughts. As he continued to eat in silence, you couldn't shake the ache in your chest. The distance, both physical and emotional, left you feeling like a spectator in Jamie's struggle, unable to bridge the gap that seemed to widen with each passing moment.

You had never had this problem with Jamie before, he communicated everything he felt so that it was easier for the both of you so this was new territory. What had changed? Why was he retreating into this new, silent version of himself? The questions lingered, unanswered, amplifying the sense of helplessness.

With a heavy sigh, you set your fork down, the clatter against the plate echoing the unease in the room. "Jamie," you began tentatively, your voice soft but carrying the weight of your concern. "I hate seeing you like this, I just want to help."

Jamie had finally slammed the fork down, looking up at you with agitated playing on his face. "You can't fucking help me, Y/N. Do you get that, is that simple enough for you? I can't breathe around you without you looking at me and trying to analyze it and help me. You look at me like I'm some kind of burden you need to carry, and I'm sick of it."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, the raw emotion behind them stinging more than any physical blow. It was a side of Jamie you hadn't encountered before, and the harshness in his tone took you aback. There was silence as you both stared at each other and you saw the regret slowly seep into Jamie's expression.

You took a moment to collect yourself, swallowing the lump in your throat before finally speaking. "I never meant to make you feel like a burden. I just care about you, and seeing you struggle hurts. I thought we could face it together, like we always have."

He lowered his gaze, a visible conflict playing out in his eyes. The regret painted across his face was palpable, and for a moment, it seemed like he was grappling with the weight of his words. "I know I messed up," Jamie finally admitted, his voice softer now, remorse evident. "It's just... everything feels like too much right now, and I took it out on you. I'm sorry, baby."

The pet name rolled off his tongue like honey as he spoke and you could see the old Jamie come back slowly as you gazed at him. You nodded, acknowledging the complexity of the emotions that had fueled his outburst.

"Everything will be easier if you just talk to me, Jamie." You paused, choosing your words carefully. "I want to understand, Jamie. I want to be there for you," you continued, your voice gentle but firm. "We can face whatever it is together. Just talk to me. Please."

He sighed, the conflict in his eyes softening. "I know, Y/N. I just... I'm not used to all of this. The move, the injury, it's like my whole world got turned upside down, and I don't know how to understand it."

You reached across the table, your hand finding his. "We'll figure it out together. You don't have to carry it all on your own. I hate seeing you hurt like this, baby."

He squeezed your hand, the warmth of the gesture was filled with gratitude. "I don't want to push you away, Y/N. I just... I've always been the one who had it all figured out, you know? But this, it's different. It's overwhelming."

"You don't have to have it all figured out, Jamie. We'll navigate through this together. It's okay not to be okay, you don't have to play the part because at the end of the day, you're just human."

He nodded, a mixture of emotions flickering in his eyes. "I'm just scared of losing everything, of losing myself in all of this mess."

The weight of his fears hung in the air, and you leaned in, your thumb gently caressing his hand. "You won't lose yourself, Jamie. I'm here to help you find your way back. We'll take it one step at a time."

For a moment, he hesitated, the weight of vulnerability hanging in the air. Then, slowly, he began to open up. The words spilled out, frustration, fear, and the overwhelming pressure he felt. As he spoke, you listened, offering support.

After the conversation, you laid next to him in the bed, his head laying on your chest. The silence was comfortable as you both began to seep into sleep, enveloped in one another. Your fingers gently traced soothing patterns on his back as you held him close, your presence a reassurance that he wasn't alone ever.

The soft rhythm of his breathing matched the steady beat of your heart, as Jamie shifted slightly, his fingers finding yours in the darkness.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[slexenskee]

Only Shooting Stars (Break The Mold)

The AU where Gojo is actually All Might's California kid that literally no one asked for, including me 🤦‍♀️

Satoru’s best friend just told him she hates him. Actually, she told him she wanted to go hiking, which is basically the same thing. 

There is emphatically nothing he’d like less than being dragged through the parched, dry hills around the Dish on an otherwise perfectly normal Saturday morning free of classes, but Makoto is only in town for two days and he promised her he’d do whatever she liked barring arson and/or more tequila shots. 

“Can’t you just get Captain Underpants to go with you?” He throws out as a token protest, staggering into her rental jeep with the darkest shades he owns tossed over his eyes in a desperate attempt to keep his hangover at bay.

He squints at her as she settles in the driver’s seat of her rented death contraption. And why isn’t she hungover, anyway? She had even more to drink than him last night. 

“You know his hero name is Captain Celebrity, and please don’t say that where anyone can hear you.” She rolls her eyes as she starts the car. “Until I get a more famous client he’s still my cash cow, and I’d really rather not get fired right now.”

“You couldn’t have picked a worse one.” Satoru snorts, flopping into the passenger seat. “Isn’t he still cheating on the daughter with the stepmom or something?”

“Alleged,” Makoto hisses. “Allegedly cheating. And no, obviously. I wouldn’t still be his publicist if he was that much of an idiot.”

She tries to back out of her spot and almost immediately slides several inches down the heart-palpitation-inducing San Francisco incline he’d parked her on last night. She gives him a look of pure, sheer terror over her steering wheel. 

Satoru quickly undoes his seatbelt. “Yeah, okay. Put the parking brake on and switch with me— I’ll drive.” 

He has them up and off the worst of Hyde St.’s incline with the undisturbed impassivity of a kid who’s spent his entire driving career wedging himself into tenuous and visibly improbable parking spots all across the bay area. Makoto gives a sigh of relief once they clear the worst of the soaring hills, and actually doesn’t bring up the topic he knows she’s itching to broach until he’s pulling onto the 101. 

“You know, I wouldn’t have to bother with Captain Celebrity if someone would just finally agree to be a hero.” Makoto needles him, for the umpteenth time. 

He rolls his eyes behind his glasses. “Not happening.” He shoots her down flat. 

“You can’t stay in college forever!” She protests.

“What do you mean, forever?” He protests back, offended. “I’m not even twenty-two yet!” 

And she makes it sound like he’s wasting his life away going to college or something! As if getting into Stanford isn’t the most snobbish badge of supremacy you can wave around in this damn state! 

This is what he gets for saving her all those years ago, he laments. A best friend who nags him over all his life choices. He should have let her just fall from that damned New York skyscraper. Or more realistically, just waited it out and let an actual hero swoop in and save her. It’s not as if there hadn’t been plenty around at the time. 

She’d been a twenty-one year-old intern at a prestigious marketing agency caught at the wrong end of a villain takeover, and as far as his mother was concerned he’d been a seventeen year-old ostensibly touring the city for colleges, but in reality had been touring music dive bars more than campuses. They’d immediately bonded over the fact he’d saved her life, but also the indie band shirt he’d been wearing as he’d done it. 

Growing up in LA, his only two real options were surfing or surf rock, and he’d chosen to spend more time on the route that wouldn’t lead him to immediate skin cancer. His mom had eventually moved them to San Francisco, but he’d never quite grown out of his SoCal roots. He’d loved music in his last life, and in this life, he’d decided to chill the fuck out and ignore society and all it’s problems, and music seemed as good a way as any to do it. And he was pretty damn good at it, if he did say so himself. His expansive catalog of songs from his last life and eidetic memory made most people call him a genius, even if he rejected the label. So he was a passable— if not prodigal— guitarist, and Makoto had just learned to play the bass herself, so it was really no surprise they’d not only immediately bonded, but immediately decided to make a band together. 

Makoto jumping ship and splitting her time between the US and Japan had thrown a bit of a wrench in their rockstar dreams, but they were making it work somehow. And considering he can teleport around the world at will, it’s really not that much of a hindrance. 

That does beg the question though, of why Makoto would rather him be a hero than a musician. But he imagines he actually already knows the answer to that. 

“How about you stop cleaning up after stupid celebrities, and become a celebrity yourself.” He argues, with a raised brow. 

Makoto scoffs. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to break into the music industry?” 

With the confidence of several dozen platinum hits spanning several dozen genres sitting pretty in his head, Satoru retorts; “I don’t think that will be a problem for us.” 

She laughs him off at first, but then seems to give it genuine thought. “I guess you are pretty enough to have lead singer appeal,” she concedes, uncharitably. “But we haven’t even released an album yet; you have no idea how well it will be received on the charts. Playing little dive bar shows isn’t going to get us anywhere.” 

Satoru just shrugs. “Then what’s stopping us? Let’s record an album.”

Makoto just rolls her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Come pop by Japan next weekend, and let’s do it.”

“Sure.” He agrees immediately, making her do a double take. He grins winsomely at her. “What? I’m free next weekend. Why not?” 

She just shakes her head in wonder. “Even seeing it multiple times, sometimes I really do still forget you can just… teleport across the world. And stop bullets with your eyeballs.”

“It’s telekinesis,” he corrects, but at this point it’s just rote. 

“No, I specifically remember you trying to explain it had something to do with your eyeballs, don’t try to change it up now.” Makoto pokes him in the shoulder— or tries to, but is stopped with his barrier. “And how the hell that’s supposed to even make sense, I have no idea. But you definitely said it.” 

Yeah, he probably deserves that for trying to explain his cursed techniques while he’d been several mystery drinks deep at a college frat party. Makoto probably still hasn't forgiven him for dragging her to that madhouse, but in his defense, she’d all but begged him to take her to an American college party in the first place.

“It’s… complicated.” He hedges off. “My eyes just help me understand how to use my powers; they’re not actually what creates my barrier.” 

Makoto squints at him suspiciously. “... What’s your mom’s quirk again?”

He chuckles awkwardly. “Oh, she can convert energy from the sun. Mine’s a mutation, obviously.”

“Could just be a strange combination.” Makoto muses. “What did you say your dad’s quirk was?”

“I, uh, have no idea.” Satoru coughs, keeping his eyes on the road in a vaguely panicked manner. 

“Shit, that’s right, I’m sorry.” Makoto jolts in her seat, apologetic. “You still haven’t heard anything? I thought your mom said… I mean, they’re not on bad terms, right?”

Frankly, Satoru almost wishes she would continue pestering him about becoming a hero over this particular topic. 

“They’re not on bad terms, no.” He hedges off, shifting in his seat. Why couldn’t his best friend have a normal quirk, like fire breathing or water bending? Or anything besides being a human lie detector when he has so much he needs to lie about? “But they don’t talk much. I’m not sure she even knows what his quirk is herself.”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway, your quirk is what it is.” Mercifully, Makoto lets the subject drop. “Even if it makes no damn sense.”

Satoru laughs that off. “Does any quirk ever really make sense, though?” 

Makoto just clicks her tongue, then launches into a spirited rant on the laws of quirk science. Satoru breathes a quiet sigh of relief as the conversation devolves into a nonsensical argument on what would be the most useless quirk in history. 

One of these days he’s going to have to cave and tell Makoto the truth, but he’d really rather not do it when he’s hungover and facing the prospect of a miserable hike for the next few hours. 

//

And to be fair, nothing he said to Makoto was a lie. 

His parents aren’t on bad terms. Or rather, they’re not on any terms at all, as he doesn’t think they’ve even spoken once in the twenty-two years he’s been alive in this world. But according to his mom, they hadn’t parted on bad terms. They’d been college sweethearts, and his father had always been honest about his intentions to return to Japan. His mother had been adamant about staying in America and pursuing her own career. They’d split up for practicalities sake, unaware he was already on the way, and his mom looks back on that time of her life fondly. 

His mom would go on to have him several months after his father had left the country, and raise him as a single-mother as she built a life for them. His father would go on to be the world’s strongest hero. 

His mother had only ever known Yagi Toshinori as All Might, unbeatable and unbreakable, with a quirk so strong it would have him going down in history as one of the strongest heroes of all time. As far as she— and the rest of the world knew— he had some kind of strengthening quirk. 

But Satoru had seen him before, on one of his trips back to Japan. It had been from a distance, as he’d taken down a villain to the delight of the cheering crowds around him, but it had been enough for Satoru’s Six Eyes to see his quirk wasn’t quite as straightforward as the strengthening ability listed on his hero profile. All Might’s core— where most humans had a swirling mass of plus alpha energy— was as empty as Satoru’s. Satoru was quirkless because his father, All Might, had been born quirkless. The quirk All Might had now must have been  given to him when he was older, growing around that empty space and spreading through his body almost like a parasite. Or a curse. Satoru honestly couldn’t tell.

Satoru honestly didn’t care. 

He has no opinion on All Might, or what choices he may or may not have made to wield the power he has. 

When he was much younger, and saw how much his mother struggled to raise him on her own without help, he would resent him a bit for leaving her on her own like this. But his adult mind could understand the logic in both his parents’ motivations. They both made their own choices, and did what they thought was right with only care and consideration for each other. 

And it’s not as if Satoru’s childhood was lacking in any capacity.  

Actually, his childhood was awesome. 

To be entirely honest, he doubts he would have wanted All Might around even if that was possible. He can’t imagine a better way to grow up than the way he did, rocking out in the garage with his mom on the weekends, surfing in the mornings (with adequate sunscreen), skating from school to the skatepark in the afternoons, and having the complete and utter autonomy only a latchkey kid could have. His mom did what she could to make sure he grew up comfortably and well-cared for, and that included putting in long hours at work that had him on his own for most of the week. It was the best. There were no rules against using quirks in America— someone finally got their act together on personal bodily autonomy and all that— so he’d use his ‘quirk’ to teleport himself all across the world in his spare time. As long as he was back by dinner time, his mom didn’t need to know if he decided to spend the afternoon wandering the streets of Seoul in search of the best hotteok. 

He tried to keep his excursions on the down low, and keep his grades up and his nose out of trouble. While he adored his freedom, he never wanted to worry his mom. She was honestly too good for this world— and for him too, if he was being honest. The least he could do is be as good of a son as possible.

Well, he can try to be as good of a son as possible. As it stands, the majority of his chaotic existence usually gets in the way of that. 

“Oh, Sacchan, you’re home already?” His mother peers out of her office, thick, horn-rimmed glasses making her purple eyes look comically large on her face as she pokes her head over the wall. “Where’s Makoto-chan?”

“Probably on the plane already, unless it got delayed.” He tosses his keys into the basket by the front door, toeing off his shoes. 

She frowns at him. “You drove her to SFO, right? Don’t tell me you let her go by herself!”

He rolls his eyes. “She had a rental car to drop off, ya know. But yeah, I drove her from the rental place to her terminal.” 

Not that she deserved the consideration, after dragging him on a hike of all damn things yesterday. They’d just stayed out the whole night drinking beforehand, what madwoman does that? 

She gets up out of her chair, stretching her arms over her head as her hapless bun spills silver-white hair over her shoulders. “She’s such a nice girl,” his mother enthuses, as she cracks her neck. “I wish you’d bring more of your friends around, Sacchan. Your poor mother worries.”

“I’m in college now, mom.” He rolls his eyes. “We don’t really bring our friends around to meet our parents.”

More to the point, he wouldn’t want to anyway. College boys are emphatically the worst, and his mom is a very pretty woman. That’s just asking for trouble. And beyond that, he doesn’t have anyone at school he’d feel close enough to introduce her to anyway. He has plenty of people in his orbit to pair up with in labs, hang around the quad with while he’s killing time between classes, or drag to various house parties, but those are superficial bonds at best. 

He’s a young, handsome boy who surfs and skateboards and is good at all sports and plays rock music and still ranks at the top of his class; suffice it to say, he’s never wanted for friends or popularity. But he’s also a full grown man living through a second life; he has very little in common with the people in his age group. It’s gotten better now that he’s a full-fledged adult again, but he still tends to find the petty struggles of his fellow undergrads to be a bit pedantic. 

“You never brought any around in highschool either.” His mother laments. “Sacchan, you’re not embarrassed over your mother, are you?”

“Not at all.” He protests, then adds, because he doesn’t want to worry her, “I just don’t want people knowing exactly where I live. They seem nice enough, but you never really know with people these days.”

He says it to assure her that he’s a perfectly well-adjusted and well-liked kid who has plenty of deep and genuine friendships (entirely untrue) but only serves to worry her even more. 

She frowns at him, eyes downcast. “Oh, Satoru,” she says, in a sad tone that automatically has him lurching forward to comfort her. “I know things with your father are… complicated, but I never wanted to make you feel like you had to hide yourself from the world. I want to keep you safe, but I want you to have fun too, you know?” 

“Yes, I know.” He rushes to reassure her. “And I do have fun— you know I do! You came to my show just last week!”

His mother gives him a watery smile. “Yes, and your bandmate Kenji nearly started a bar fight, and the crowds got so unruly that the fire department got called in.” 

“That guy deserved to be slapped around a bit.” He returns, unapologetic. “And the fire department was just there to make sure we stayed under capacity— we weren’t causing any trouble!”

“No trouble, he says, when the cops were still called by the end of the night.” She teases him. 

He rolls his eyes. He can’t control whether or not two drunks decide to get in a brawl over baby mama drama outside the venue, that was totally not his fault. And also probably not the best show to take his mom to, but it was one of the few local performances they’ve ever done, and she was always making noises about finally seeing his band play in person. Unsurprisingly having two bandmates that live across the ocean and one that hops between two countries means they rarely play shows on this side of the Pacific, and he still hasn’t found a way to admit to her that his teleportation radius is a lot larger than he’d originally told her as a five year-old manifesting his ‘quirk’. 

“Cops or not, it was still a good time.” He grins, adamantly. 

“It was indeed a good time.” She nods, grinning back. She leans up to pat his cheek. “You looked like you were really enjoying yourself up there, Satoru. I always knew you’d be a star.” 

“It was a weekday performance at a local bar, I would hardly call myself a star.” He protests, helplessly. 

Her eyes twinkle behind her glasses. “Maybe not yet.”

--

Yes the title is from All Star by Smashmouth 😂 this fic has the most millennial playlist I've ever made

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[bradshawssugarbaby]

Do I? - Beau Simpson x Reader

a/n: I've been wanting to write for Beau for a while (I love Jon Hamm and this is a hill I am willing to die on), so here's my first one for him. Inspired loosely by Do I? by Luke Bryan.

pairing: Beau Simpson x reader

warnings/content: angst to fluff, mentions of divorce if you squint, Beau being kinda soft, allusions to smut, allusions to child ab*se, Beau doesn't always know how to show his emotions but damn it he tries his best.

word count: 1.9k

taglist: @nouis-bum, @jessicab1991, @b-bradshaw, @ahopelessromanticwritersworld

Do I turn you on at all when I kiss you, baby? Does the sight of me wanting you drive you crazy? Do I have your love? Am I still enough? Tell me don't I? Or tell me, do I, baby Give you everything that you ever wanted? Would you rather just turn away and leave me lonely? Do I just need to give up and get on with my life? Tell me, baby do I get one more try?

Beau grumbled as he walked through the door, his keys dropping into the catch-all dish on the table with a clatter. His brows knit together as he looked around the room, searching for any sign of you being home. His tired blue-green eyes blinked as he raked a hand over his face, trying to wake himself up as he searched the house for you. Calling your name to no response, he furrowed his brow as he pulled his phone from his pocket. He frowned as he saw there were zero missed calls and zero missed messages from you, a sign that you were truly mad at him this time. 

He let out an exhausted sigh as he slumped into the armchair in the living room, picking up a discarded baseball your son had forgotten to put away and rolling it in his hands, over his fingers and back as his mind ran over the events that unfolded that morning.

He hadn’t meant to be cold towards you or Dylan. He’d been stressed and overworked, struggling with an upcoming mission that he had to plan out, trying to ensure the right team was put together for the job. Combing through dozens of personnel files until his eyes were sore, staying up all hours of the night trying to create an action plan, briefing notes - he rarely left base anymore. He knew you’d felt neglected, and God, he hated making you feel that way. He hated that you felt unwanted, unloved, and yet, you did everything you could to still make life easier for him. He knew he didn’t deserve that. In fact, he knew he didn’t deserve you–your patience, your understanding, your love and affection. He didn’t deserve to be Dylan’s father either, not that he’d been a particularly good one anyway. 

Dylan had a baseball tournament coming up, and you’d asked Beau if he’d be able to make it. Dylan’s team had never been invited to play before, but they’d managed to make it to a statewide tournament, teams from all over California would be there with their children, ages 8-10. The Coronado Crowns were having a record season, and Dylan had begun to emerge as their star pitcher. When you’d asked him about it, he’d had a dozen other things on his mind - he couldn’t even remember you mentioning it in the first place, if he was honest. He figured he’d hummed along in response, not hearing what you’d said, but not wanting to give off the impression he wasn’t listening. 

Unaware of what he’d agreed to, Beau bounded down the stairs this morning, his footsteps heavy as he headed to the kitchen. He was running late, and barely had time to have coffee with you, but he was determined to at least kiss you good morning before heading out the door. You’d frowned at him when you saw him in uniform, and immediately, his mind began to race, running through a list of scenarios that could have upset you. He wasn’t the most romantic husband - he knew that, but he was sure he’d never forgotten an anniversary or a birthday. It wasn’t until Dylan came down in his baseball uniform, his duffel bag packed for the four-day tournament slung over his shoulder. His face fell as he looked at Beau, an instant wave of guilt washing over Beau’s face.

“I’m sorry, I forgot, buddy, listen, I really have to get this done at work, I have a briefing scheduled for today, I can’t miss it,” Beau had explained, trying to reason with his 9 year old son. 

“I get it, Dad, it’s ok,” Dylan shrugged before sitting down at the breakfast nook for some scrambled eggs. 

“We’re leaving at 10, get to Oakland for about 8 tonight,” you explained, nodding your head as you forced a smile in Dylan’s direction.

Beau let out a frustrated sigh, of course you weren’t home now - you left four hours ago. You were halfway to Oakland by this point. He leaned his head back against the chair, shutting his eyes for a moment as he dragged his hand over his face once more. He knew he’d fucked up. He knew he’d let you both down. He checked his phone again. If he left now, he could probably make it to you and Dylan by 11 if he made minimal stops on his way. He could make this right, he could show up tonight, surprise you - surprise Dylan in the morning when he woke up, spend the weekend being the father and husband he’d failed to be for the last month or so. 

Beau bolted up the stairs, quickly changing out of his uniform and into more relaxed, civilian clothes. He grabbed a bag from the closet and began to shove some clean clothes inside, showing little care about keeping them neat or organized. He headed to the bathroom, grabbing his toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant and his razor, tossing them all into the bag in a hurry. Bounding back down the staircase, he stepped into his running shoes and flew out the door with his keys and bag in hand. A well-loved baseball cap from his college days sat in the front seat - a relic he’d meant to bestow to Dylan but forgotten about. He placed the cap on his head, sporting it backwards, just as he would have done 30+ years ago when he got it. 

As he drove down the interstate, he thought about the ways he could apologize to you. His mind ran through all the things you liked, the romantic gestures he’d heard you mention, the different romcom tropes you loved - anything he could think of that could make up for what he’d lacked in as a husband. When he stopped for dinner, pulling into a fast-food restaurant just off the highway, he contemplated what he’d say when you asked him if he was insane, knowing that was exactly how you’d respond to hearing that he drove down after all, determined not to miss a minute of Dylan’s tournament. He thought about how he’d pull you in close, giving you an emblazoned, passionate kiss as he held you in his arms, giving a rare, dramatic, public display of affection. He yawned as he pulled into the parking lot of the hotel you were staying at with Dylan, finding an open spot next to your car. He got out, smiling fondly as he spotted the bedazzled steering wheel cover that he always teased you about - the one he’d begrudgingly bought for your birthday when you’d asked for it, pretending to find it ridiculous when really, he was admiring you for it, for being so unashamedly yourself. It was a quality he was jealous of in you - he’d been brought up in an old-school military family, taught to be seen and not heard, to blend in with everyone else and to remain reserved the majority of the time. He rarely cracked a smile outside of the house, and really, even wearing a baseball cap outside of a Padres game was unlike him. 

He approached the front desk with a look of pure determination on his face, his bag clutched in his hand. Once he made it to your room, he rapped on the door with a gentle knock, trying not to make too much noise in the hopes he didn’t wake Dylan. You opened the door, looking ready to chew out whoever it was knocking for waking you, but your look of anger quickly dissipated as you wrapped your arms around Beau tightly. 

“You flew down here?!” You whispered excitedly, arms draped around his neck.

“No, flights were booked,” Beau shook his head with a chuckle, a soft smile forming on his lips, “I drove.”

“You…you drove?”

“Mhmm, all nine hours. I’m surprised I made it before midnight, I finished my briefing early, managed to get the plans set for the mission, and then got home and realized I had time to fix things with you and Dylan.”

“He’ll be so excited. He was devastated at the thought of you not making it to see him play.”

“Look, I have to talk to you, ok?” He began, shaking his head as he let out an awkward chuckle, frowning as he tried to collect his thoughts.

“I’ve been the worst husband to you. I know I have. I know I’ve made you feel unloved, and unwanted, and unimportant, and I’m sorry. I never wanted to make you feel that way. I’ve never wanted our marriage to be strained over my work, and I know my job is demanding and it’s difficult some days for me to put you and Dylan first - but believe me, I love you two more than anything. You know that, right? And, I know you probably aren’t happy with me - I don’t blame you. I know you probably wanted to divorce me ten minutes ago, and you’re complete right in thinking that - I would have deserved it.”

You pressed your lips to his gently, interrupting his rambling with a soft, tender kiss. He pulled away gently, reaching up to take the baseball cap off of his head before ducking down to kiss you again. He pulled away after a moment, breathless and blissful as he gazed at you.

“So, am I still enough for you? Do you want me to leave or do I get another chance?”

“You’ve always been enough, Beau,” you shook your head, beaming up at him, “Even when you forget commitments and you get caught up with work, or when you don’t always say the right thing, you always make up for it and try to fix things, and that’s one of the things I love about you. You drove nine hours when you realized you couldn’t catch a flight down here because you realized how much it meant to Dylan and I for you to be here. I don’t know many other men who’d drop everything on a dime to do that.”

“I guess that’s true,” he nodded, shaking his head in disbelief before leaning in to kiss your cheek. “I mean it though, I really think you could have done better than a middle-aged Admiral who can’t show his emotions very well and doesn’t know how to prioritze anything correctly.”

“You’re right, I could have, but where’s the fun in that?” You teased, taking the baseball cap from his hand and placing it back on his head, backwards.

“By the way, Beau, you should wear a hat like this more often.” 

“Yeah? You think so?”

You bit your lip seductively, holding back a wicked grin as you looked up at him, nodding your head, “Kinda makes me wanna show you just how much I love you.”

“Dylan’s asleep in here,” he laughed, shaking his head as his cheeks flushed.

“Dylan is sleeping in Ryder’s room, three doors away, actually.”

Beau’s eyes widened slightly, his hands drifting down to your hips. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at you, turning his head to the side to scan the room, seeing that, you were in fact, alone. When he turned, you caught a glimpse of the salt and pepper streaks that ran through his hair on the side of his head, the sight alone almost enough to make you melt. 

“Well, in that case, let me show you just how sorry I am.” 

[imisscherryboy-blog]

running back 2 u

enemies to lovers - football player. ajax x sports med! gn reader

part 1, part 2

spotify playlist (it's good i swear)

story: you and ajax have known each other since elementary school. those years haven't been always the best, as you both parted ways due to your differences in personality. that is, until one hot august night, where the stadium lights illuminate the turf, you find yourself running back to him again.

notes: SMUT, enemies to lovers, modern au, gender neutral reader, childe is referred to as ajax, last name tartaglia, all characters are 18+ as seniors, highschool setting, part 3/3, gn reader, ajax is bi (since it's gn), alhaitham and kaveh are gay, california coded

smut tags: first time, dom ajax, penetration, oral fixations, praise, pet name use, protected sex, oral (we get head), bruising, rough sex, after care

side characters featured: kaveh, alhaitham (alhaitham x kaveh),

warnings: mature themes!!, themes of sexual harassment (not described), drugs, alcohol, smoking, swearing

★ part 3 (last part) ★

ajax came back down with the tylenol and tossed it to you. you caught it and took out two pills.

“water?” you looked at him with a deadpan expression.

“you have cereal milk right in front of you.” he responded with a look that would make anyone want to punch him in the face. you scoffed and took the tylenol dry. it was about 8 am now, and alhaitham came down the stairs.

“you’re still here.?” he asked as he made his way over to the box of cereal.

“someone (you looked at ajax) didn’t let me leave.” you responded.

“…what the hell man let her leave.” he said as he poured out the cereal.

“we uber’d here, ajax offered to drop us once kaveh wakes up.” you responded.

“that’ll probably be a while.” alhaitham nonchalantly said, taking another bite of his cereal.

“it won’t!” you heard kaveh yell from upstairs. it seemed like he was getting his stuff together. you sighed, you just wanted to go home. it would take a minute for the tylenol to actually work, and at that point, your headache was still pretty bad. ajax was on his phone, most likely waiting for kaveh to come downstairs.

“oh, by the way. i’m taking kaveh to homecoming.” alhaitham said. you and ajax both questioned him in unison. “is there something wrong..?”

“yeah- what am i supposed to do??” ajax asked.

“what, you don’t have a date?” you asked teasingly.

“i— not yet- but i will!” he said, clearly pissed off. “we were supposed to hang out!”

“i know, i’m sorry. just happened. i’m sure you’ll find someone.” alhaitham reasoned. “just take y/n with you.”

your face involuntary heated up as you both shouted ‘no’. alhaitham was a funny guy.

“y/n, do you even have a date?”

you paused for a moment, weighing your options. you did in fact have a date. he was some scrawny kid in your english class. he wasn’t bad, but obviously not ideal. it was your senior year and you wanted to say you went to homecoming with someone. if you did say yes, you knew ajax would be jealous; seeing as though he didn’t even have a date in the first place.

“yeah, i do.”

“huh?” ajax said. you had him hook, line, and sinker.

“something wrong?” you asked smirking.

“n-no.” he stammered and just let it go. you had won that one fair and square. just then, kaveh finally came down the stairs.

“well it looks lively down here.” he stated, putting his things on the counter.

“i’ll drop you guys.” alhaitham said, dropping his dish into the sink.

“nuh uh, i said i would.” ajax reasoned.

“you drank last night.” alhaitham stated. alhaitham didn’t drink.

“i slept it off.” he responded.

“you can’t sleep off alcohol bud. i’ll take them.” and just like that, alhaitham grabbed his tesla keys and headed for the door. kaveh said bye to ajax while you just left.

you and kaveh got in the car, kaveh sitting passenger while you sat in the back.

“where are we going?” alhaitham asked kaveh.

“my house, y/n’s car is parked there.” kaveh responded. alhaitham just nodded and left, kaveh giving occasional directions.

“so.. homecoming.” you interjected.

“yeah.. about that.” kaveh started before you told him you already knew.

“well, you’re free to come with us!” kaveh said.

“mm.. you guys aren’t really his crowd. don’t worry about it kaveh. i’ll catch you at the after party.” you said. you felt a little bad, but you weren’t expecting kaveh and alhaitham to really even happen. your logic pinned it on ajax for tearing his acl.

you arrived at kaveh’s house and said bye to alhaitham before going inside to get your keys. inside, kaveh stood by the doorway.

“you’re not mad about me going to hoco with alhaitham.. right?”

“no—kaveh, if anything i’m happy for you. you’ll have a lot of fun, trust me.” you brushed it off, making your way to the door.

“okay, i’ll see you at school then.”

“yeah.” you said as you left his house and got into your car. you waved to him from the car and backed out of the driveway, starting for your house. you felt bad, and you could tell kaveh did too, but there really wasn’t much you could do. after all, homecoming was next week.

the week went by normal. you only saw ajax in passing, he’d stare at you, then look away. he never tried to talk to you. after all, the party was probably the most you two ever talked in a while, and you honestly would be okay to keep it that way—but something in you really doubted that.

homecoming arrived, it was on a saturday at 7pm. kaveh told you that you both could meet up after it was over to find a party to go to, but you highly doubted that would happen. not with alhaitham in the picture. you dressed up, almost over dressing, but just enough to stand out. it was your last homecoming, so you might as well make it a good one. it felt different not being able to get ready with kaveh, like you usually would. but you didn’t let it bother you as you got a text from your date, saying he was outside.

looking your very best, you walked out of the door to see your date—in probably the ugliest car you’ve seen. it was a jacked up camry, with scratches and dents on the side. suddenly, you wished you just took your car there. the night was off to a great start!

the two of you got to the venue, it was beautiful to say the least. it was a hall, just right next to the water. the lights illuminated the water, giving a faint glow to bay. the sun was almost set, painting the sky a hue of blue and purple. you stared at the moon, it was fairly bright. admiring it, you stared at it for a couple more seconds before being snapped out of it by your date.

“my friends are already inside.”

“oh. okay.” you said. he wasn’t much of a talker. you both walked in, noticing the amount of people already there. you felt people staring at you. you couldn’t tell if it was because you looked good, or you went to hoco with an absolute loser. you scanned the room for kaveh and alhaitham, and spotted them near the bar. once kaveh saw you, his jaw dropped, supposedly at how good you looked.

“you look so good, y/n.” kaveh said giving you a hug.

“thanks kaveh, you too.” you smiled. you noticed him glaring at your date.

“well, i’ll see you later, okay?” he said, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “don’t have too much fun without me.” you nodded and left with your date. you waved to alhaitham, using it as a chance to look for ajax. he was no where to be found.

for the next hour, you couldn’t help but watch the entrance to the hall. your date was practically with his stem friends the entire time, only asking you if you wanted something to drink. you said no every time. sitting on the folding chair, you waited. you didn’t know exactly what you would do if you saw him, but you continued to watch the door, until your date rudely interrupted you.

“waiting for someone?”

“no..”

“okay.” and just like that, he left. you looked back to the door and saw none other than ajax. you cursed your date for taking your focus away from the door. he was wearing his hair slicked back with a small strand in the front. he had a black-silk button up on, with the first three buttons undone (whore). the silver chain undoubtedly brought the whole fit together. unlike the times you’d pass each other in the halls, he spared you no glance. this time, he was with a brunette haired girl on the cheer team. big shocker, you thought to yourself. you quickly got up and joined your date with his friends, still looking at ajax and the girl he was with. your date’s friends just gave you a weird look and continued talking. every time you would sip your drink, you’d sneak in a quick glance.

narrowing your eyes, you noticed that the girl he was with.. looked drunk? you thought maybe the pre-gamed? but ajax looked perfectly sober, in fact he looked almost annoyed. you would pretend to look busy with your date, then look back at ajax. he was now with alhaitham and some of his other friends. his date stuck to his arm, though. she looked far too gone for anyone sober to actually tolerate.

what you didn’t notice, was alhaitham telling kaveh that he kept noticing ajax’s eyes wandering back to you. god bless alhaitham for being the middle man. but that news wouldn’t get to you until far later.

for now, you babysat your drink, until the lights started to dim. ugh, it was slow dancing time. at that point, you and your date, alongside his friends all sat at a table. you sat next to your date. you could feel his eyes boring into you, knowing he was gonna ask to dance. you really didn’t want to. you tried looking for ajax again, noticing he was gone. you felt a nudge on your arm.

“wanna dance?” his face got closer and closer as you got further and further.

“um..” you said, reeling back. he was not getting the hint by any means. all of a sudden, he leaned in for a kiss. you immediately pushed him off of you, standing up and walking away. that was your breaking point. this homecoming could not have been any worse. you’ve spent the entire time just spying on people and pretending to look interested in whatever the hell your date’s friends were going on about. you wished you’d never told ajax and alhaitham you had a date. you wished you were just with kaveh.

like clockwork, japanese denim by daniel ceaser starts playing as you’re heading for the exit. what great timing. you pushed the door open and were met with a cold breeze. it was freezing, but you didn’t care. as long as you were away from everyone for some time, you were happy. kaveh and alhaitham were probably dancing the night away. you found a bench outside near the hall and sat down. the waves of the bay behind you calmed you down a little. but you could help but shake the fact that your last homecoming was a mess.

“well someone looks like they had a shitty hoco.” the guy you’d been stalking for the past hour was now right behind you. (he was doing the same thing so dw) you turned around to see ajax leaning against a wall, next to the bench you were sitting at. how did you not see him?

“yeah. why’re you here?” you stumbled over your words a little, not expecting him to be here at all.

“shitty date, shitty day.” he tossed his cigarette on the ground and crushed it with his shoe.

“smoking outside of the school event is crazy.” you said laughing.

“i told you, it’s medicine.” he said sarcastically. the faint chorus of the daniel ceaser song could be heard from all the way outside. “can i sit?”

“i guess.” you said, trying to keep up the cold front. it didn’t really work, but you figured you’d at least try. after all, you guys hated each other. he took the spot next to you, and stared off into the distance.

“so.. who were you with?” he cut straight to the chase.

“what’s it to you?”

“it physically hurts to see someone so good looking with some fuck ass loser.” well that was harsh. well, anyone that tries to force themselves onto someone deserves that title.

“you’re saying i’m good looking?” you laughed, knowing he’d come up with some stupid excuse. instead, he nodded his head and just looked away. you could’ve sworn you were seeing things.

“anyway, you going anywhere after this?” he asked, lighting another cigarette.

“no, i don’t think so.”

“kaveh said you were going party hopping?”

“i highly doubt it.”

when you two went back and forth, having a normal conversation, it felt like old times. it made you feel like you were talking to your best friend of years. and ultimately, that’s what you guys could’ve been, but it never was.

“what a waste of a lovely night..” he said to himself, looking up at the sky above him.

“was that a la la land reference?” you asked, laughing.

“maybe.” he smiled at you.

“you’re still a movie nerd?”

“yeah, why wouldn’t i be?” he laughed. it went quiet for a second until you finally decided to ask.

“so, what happened with your date?” you asked.

“i felt like i was babysitting teucer the entire time. didn’t want that to be how i remembered my last homecoming.”

“i get that.” you responded.

it was quiet for a couple seconds again until he took the cigarette out of his mouth and had it in between his fingers.

“you wanna ditch this place?” you almost didn’t believe what he was saying.

“anywhere is better than here right now.” you admitted. even if you ‘hated’ ajax, you’d rather be somewhere else.

“kaveh won’t get mad?”

“i’ll let him know.”

and just like that, ajax took his keys out of his pocket and twirled it around his finger.

“where to?”

“anywhere.” you said.

“you got it.” he got up and made his way to the parking lot. you followed closely behind him, suddenly getting hit with the relentless ocean air.

“cold?” he asked.

“i’m fine.” you lied.

you opened the passenger seat to his car and sat down. he reached into the back and grabbed a hoodie that had his number (11) and the logo of your highschool. he threw it onto your lap without a word. you defeatedly put the hoodie on, fitting a little too big for your usual size. but it did the job. he started the engine, and it immediately began to get warm.

“you said anywhere, right?”

minutes passed rather quickly as the two of you just reminisced on past memories of middle school. he didn’t feel like ajax the school whore, but he genuinely felt like your best friend again. it was undeniable that it felt a little more than that. you really had no idea where he was taking you, but you trusted him. and he needed you.

after about twenty minutes, you pulled into the driveway of a large lake house. it was gorgeous to say the least. you knew ajax had money, but damn did you not realize the extent of that. you recalled he has mentioned this house a couple times, but you never actually saw it until now.

“this isn’t even the best part.” he said, turning off the engine, and getting out of the car. he seemed like a little kid again. he took you to the back of the house which was the lake. it was dark and still cold, but something about it didn’t bother you. you and ajax looked out into the large lake, the moon shining down on the water, creating the appearance that someone dumped glitter into the water. needless to say, it was beautiful. he sat on the sand, and you sat next to him.

“i remember you talking about this house.”

“yeah.. i’d come here every summer.”

“not anymore?” you asked to which he nodded his head.

“family shit. it’s not fun anymore.” he stated, looking off into the water. “when i tore my acl, i realized i’ve just been taking everything for granted.” he sighed.

you simply listened to him rant.

“i don’t know, it just feels like i keep hanging onto things that make me happy for two seconds, then moving on and finding something else.”

you honestly wanted to laugh at him just because of how ironic he sounded, but there was a time and place.

“like, being with all my siblings make me happy no matter what. but i keep chasing things that really only keep me sane for so long.”

“like drugs?”

“yeah, like drugs. when i saw my date acting like that, i realized why do we even do it?” he started to draw small shapes into the sand, it was a habit he had when he’d talk about things. did he think you were a genuine source of happiness for him? or was he truly just reminiscing on something else.?

you dropped your arms to your sides and sighed. “why don’t we just forget about everything. for one night.” you proposed. “it’s our last year, might as well save whatever is left of it.” you looked at him to see staring directly into your eyes.

“not a bad idea y/n. that’s rare.” you pushed him at his response, you both laughed. he was staring at you again, you looked back at him. it felt like both of your breathing fell in sync. all it took was one glance at his lips for him to close the distance between the two of you. he turned your head towards him as he kissed you. you didn’t want to think. you decided to fuck repercussions and fuck getting hurt, all you wanted was to be with ajax in that moment. so you kissed him back. your hand went up to his head and the other went to his shoulder. his hands brought you closer to him, to where you were almost on top of him. you broke the kiss for a moment.

“you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting to do that.”

you smiled and found yourself straddling him now, with both of your hands on his face, with his hands at your waist. it felt natural to be completely honest, like you knew exactly what to do. “wait—” he said before looking at you again. “you wanna keep going.?” you swallowed thickly. you had never done it before. but who better than to have your first time with than ajax?

“yeah—but”

“first time?” it’s like he took the words out of your mouth (literally)

you nodded your head to which he smiled.

“you’re so cute.”

“shut up.” you said before kissing him again to be abruptly stopped once again.

“is that a yes?”

“yes dummy.” he smiled and picked you up with ease, putting in a code to the house and taking to you to his room. the house was dark, most likely because no one had been in it for a while. the two of you got up the stairs giggling before reaching ajax’s room. not even bothering to close the door, he laid you down on the bed and wasted no time in getting his lips back on yours. knowing he had your consent, he didn’t hold back. gasps in between each kiss meant one piece of clothing to come off. first was your hoodie, then it was the rest of your clothes. leaving you almost naked aside from your underwear. ajax unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it to the side. he was in between your legs, simply admiring the sight below him. he ran a hand down your waist and to your thigh.

“i’ll take the lead, okay?”

you eagerly nodded your head. you weren’t afraid if you knew it was ajax who’d be taking care of your. slowly, he parted your legs, caressing your thigh. he took the rest of your clothes off, leaving you naked, while ajax still had his boxers on with an obvious tent in them.

“shit—” he cursed to himself at the sight of you.

“i need you, ajax—” you looked at him with pleading eyes. you didn’t want to wait any longer.

“someone’s needy.” he ran his hand down your sex and collected the stickiness already forming. your back arched into his touch, you’d never been touched like this, and you only wanted more. your mouth made an ‘o’ shape as you screwed your eyes shut. you could hear shuffling on the bed as he leveled with your hole. he was eating you out already? did he do that with the other people he’s fucked? that’d be a question for later. your fingers made contact with his orange hair as you tugged on it. you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes roll to the back of his head for a second.

he latched his mouth onto your hole, lewd noises echoing throughout the dimly lit room. one hand was guiding his head while the other muffled your moans.

“ah- a-ajax—!”

you’ve never gotten head from someone, but damn did you know that he was experienced. circling your sensitive spots with tongue made you throw your head back in pleasure. he knew what he was doing and wanted to make it known.

“don’t tell me you’re close already pretty.” he said pulling away for a moment. you were in fact close, but who could blame you? it seemed like he only went went faster at hearing your moans. unbeknownst to you, he was using two fingers in unison with his ministrations on you. you hardly even noticed at how wet you were for him already. you noticed ajax grinding his hips into the mattress, supposedly chasing his release as well.

“m’ close!” you yelped out as your moans got louder and louder at the edge of euphoria, before no longer feeling him on you. your glossy eyes looked at him in the eyes, and he swore he could’ve felt bad.

“sorry pretty, can’t give it to you that easily.” he smirked, taking his fingers into his mouth, licking them clean. you honestly couldn’t blame him, you’d probably be too sensitive to keep going if he let you.

“who knew you tasted this good, любовь?” his chin was covered with your juices, and his eyes were dark. remember how his hair was slicked back when you first saw him? yeah, not anymore.

“you’re so mean.” you sniffled. he ran a hand through his hair, and at the sight of your fucked out look, he went back to your lips. you could taste yourself on him, it only made you want him more. you tried bucking your hips up for any sort of friction, before he pinned your hips down. he whispered lowly in your ear,

“i’ll take care of you, don’t worry.” he went from your lips and now to your neck, nipping and sucking on it to form a bruise. he felt a sense of pride in doing it. he didn’t want to go from girl to boy anymore. he wanted you, and only you. he wanted to make you his.

“w-what about you..?” you asked.

“what about me y/n? it’s your first time, not mine.” he said. you felt bad and wanted to give him a hand job at least, but he squeezed your hand in reassurance that he was fine. “you ready f’me?”

as he asked, he finally took his dick out of his boxers, and you could’ve just up and left. not in a bad way of course, but he was big. you worried you wouldn’t be able to take him. your mouth was just open.

“y/n.?” he asked, ripping a condom out and rolling it on.

“i-i don’t think that’s gonna—”

“i’ll make it fit, don’t worry angel.” well that was a new one. “need me to hold your hand?” he smirked.

“fuck off— ngh—!” your eyes screwed shut at the feeling of his tip in you.

“relax pretty, loosen up for me, yeah?” he said running a hand through his hair, obviously feeling the tightness already. “so tight..”

you eyes were slightly opened and your mouth was parted as you nodded, refusing to watch ajax bully his cock into you. you didn’t want to just give up either, you did as ajax told you and relaxed a little, allowing him to slide into you easier. his eyes were concentrated on getting himself inside you, while your hand covered your mouth and another gripped the bedsheets below you.

“you okay?” he was mostly in, with just the base of his cock out. involuntarily, a tear rolled down your face at the stretch, but you nodded yes. his face went into your shoulder as he felt you tighten up around him, groaning into your skin.

“you can move.” you said quietly.

“you sure?”

“yeah.” with that, he had one hand on the bed frame and the other on your hip.

“i’ll be gentle, don’t worry.” he slipped out of you, and back into you in one swift motion. you moaned out, anyone that was nearby would most likely hear you. he started keeping a steady pace, eliciting lewd moans from you.

“that’s it, you’re doing so good angel.” he said, cursing under his breath. he truly meant it. he really didn’t think he was gonna fit either.

“ngh— faster ajax—!” you said, chasing the pleasure you were beginning to feel. he cautiously sped up his pace, being sure not to use too much force. he treated you like a little glass doll. his hand gripped the bed frame, as his thumb came up to your face to wipe your tears.

“so—fucking good for me, keep taking me like that pretty—” mixes of low moans and pants could be heard from him, most likely not used to virgin pussy.

you couldn’t think straight, all that left your lips were broken moans and his name. his hand ran over your stomach, a noticeable imprint of his cock was splayed over you. he looked at it with wide eyes, and as if something snapped inside of him, he got even faster. your hands went to his back, marking him in your own ways.

“keep tightening around my dick like that— shit, you won’t even remember your own name angel.” his grip on your hip only got tighter. the contrast of his words in unison with the pet names brought you closer and closer to the edge.

“f-feels so good! ajax—!”

“i know it does. you gonna cum? cum with me, ‘kay?” he moaned loudly as you felt his dick twitch inside of you. he was almost louder than you. he was at a ruthless pace, but you didn’t want him to stop. you nodded your head, feeling your nerves about to snap at any moment. “say my name y/n.”

“ajax—!” you moaned loudly before climaxing, feeling the condom fill up inside of you, a lot. “fuck—” you said as you sighed, flopping down onto the bed, slowly coming down from your high. your breathing was still heavy, and so was his.

“you took that like a champ.” he said, pulling off the condom and disposing of it.

“no fucking way you just said that.” you said looking him dead in the eye. he just laughed as he laid next to you on the bed.

“shit, didn’t know you had that in you y/n.” he stated, playing with your hair. “never imagined fucking my childhood best friend into oblivion.” you shoved him in response for the second time that night. “you sure that was your first time?”

“ajax i was literally crying as you put it in i don’t know what to tell you.” he laughed even harder at this. “i’m surprised you didn’t tear your acl even more.”

“no, i think you made it better.” he gave you the most cheesy smile. “anyways, you need help?”

“help?”

“help walking.” he asked dead seriously.

“no i don’t need fucking help walking.” you got up, your knees buckling under you, immediately reaching for the bedside table.

“oh what was that? don’t need help?” he teased as he came to your side and helped you. you showered and ajax found you a big t shirt for you to change into, leaving it by the bathroom. he wanted you to stay, he really did. his football season was fucked, that was for sure. but at least he had his little medic to help him recover in— other ways. he lit a cigarette to help with the serotonin production and sat scrolling through his phone. he saw a text from alhaitham that read:

myqb😘: i’m with kaveh i’ll pass on the party tonight

myqb😘: i hope you got laid man ik tonight was rough

myqb😘: nothing fucking can’t fix 🤑💸

ajax decided not to respond to alhaitham’s message and threw his phone on the nightstand. you got out of the shower wearing his t-shirt.

“i could fuck you again right now.” he said at the sight of you in his clothes.

“give it 1-2 business days.” you laid down on the bed as he put out his cigarette, walking towards the shower.

“don’t miss me too much while i’m gone!” he yelled from the shower.

“oh i won’t!” you responded. you looked outside the large windows in his room. it was a really nice view. you checked out the shelves and found old kids books, probably from when he was little and would spend his summers here. you wondered if his siblings also had separate rooms. you did all this thinking but were reeled back into what just happened a couple of minutes ago. you just fucked your childhood best friend. and it felt really fucking good. you felt a wave of tiredness fall over you. you texted kaveh that you wouldn’t be able to see him tonight, alongside that there was a LOT to tell him. you figured he was with alhaitham so you found a charger and plugged your phone in. you looked at the bed and figured you probably wouldn’t want to sleep on those same sheets, so you took some sheets off of the vacant room next to ajax’s and replaced them. then, were you able to peacefully get into bed. ajax came out of the shower in just his boxers and immediately fell down next to you.

“so.. what are we.?” you decided to ask.

“let’s talk about it in the morning, yeah?”

“okay.” you said.

“all you need to know is that i’d be down to do it again.”you laughed.

“goodnight ajax.”

“goodnight y/n.” ajax wrapped his arms around you, your head was on his chest.

“thanks for saving me today.” you said quietly.

“it was nothing.” he responded, brushing a piece of hair out of your face.

“i just hope you’re day wasn’t entirely screwed up.”

“you made it better.” you admitted.

“i’m glad.”

you shifted your leg, and accidentally hit his knee.

“ow, fuck y/n—”

“whoops.”

and to think it all started with a torn acl.

the end!

—————

tag list:

@zamorazz @a1-ic3 @hexipessimistic @kentply @moloteco-real @lacy-lady @korunimi @nOrm4p30p3th1ng5 @tseleven @peonies4pearl @beabadobeee @ukinya

[mandarinmoons]

Summary: Both you and Spencer surprise each other, but one surprise is bigger than the other

Sitting around and waiting was never something you were good at, whether it be reading a magazine at the line in the supermarket or trying to learn a new language while you were sick, being still was just too boring. So when Spencer let you know that he’s going to be late at work, staying at home wasn’t an option.

You and Spencer had agreed to spend the evening together, having a nice dinner and watching a new foreign film that Spencer found. You knew that your boyfriend was going to be dead tired after work so you decided to head over to his place and give him a nice surprise.

Unlocking the door to Spencer’s apartment and walking in, an involuntary gasp left your mouth. Books scattered the floor, dishes were piled in the sink and what looked like a heap of dirty laundry was peeking out of the closet door. The apartment was a mess and you wondered when was the last time Spencer had a chance to clean his home. Knowing that Spencer had just gotten back from a two week case from California, the mess across the apartment was most probably a result from the past few days when Spencer got to be home for a change and knowing how much he likes to spend every waking moment of his with a book in his hands, every other task at hand got pushed to the side.

Closing the door and carefully walking across the books, trying not to trip in the process, you walked to Spencer’s bedroom and rifled through his clothes until you found it, a worn but very well loved Beatles shirt. It was your favorite shirt of his and you made it a habit to wear it every time you came over to spend the night. Wearing it made you feel like you were constantly in Spencer’s arms and Spencer didn’t mind you wearing it at all, especially since it smelled of you later on and, unbeknownst to you, he would take it with him on longer cases so he wouldn’t miss you too badly.

Changing into Spencer’s shirt and walking back into the living room, you carefully picked up the books and made stacks of them, leaving them be and deciding it would be best to ask Spencer later which book goes where. After picking up the laundry and washing the dishes you finally got to look through the fridge to see if there was anything edible in the house besides ramen noodles. Luckily there were some ingredients that didn’t look nearing their end and you decided a small pasta dish wouldn’t be too bad of a choice.

As you continued to boil the pasta and chop the ingredients you didn’t hear as Spencer unlocked the door and walked inside. His brows furrowed when he heard the sounds of chopping and boiling from inside and carefully peeked over the side and sighed in relief when he saw your figure from the corner of his eye.

Spencer took his time walking into the kitchen as he was mesmerized by seeing you stirring the pots and quickly hopping to the side to cut up some more onions. When reaching the doorway he stood by the door and smiled as he continued to watch you. A moment later he carefully walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you which caused you to jump.

“Jesus! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Spencer chuckled and kissed the side of your head, “Sorry sweetheart.”

“Sorry my a-,” you turned around to face him, but before you managed to finish your sentence you noticed something, Spencer’s hair, it was different, it was cut, Spencer got a haircut. 

What were previously long brown strands that ended just above his chin were now short, slightly curly at the sides, and to your surprise, his nape was bare.

Spencer’s eyes went wide and looked at you up and down and grinned, “Is that my shirt?”

“Yeah, it’s comfortable, you know I like it,” you chuckled and raked your fingers through his hair, “You cut your hair.”

“Mhm, do you like it?”

You took a breath and continued to brush your fingers through his locks, you liked it, you really did like it actually. Spencer looked like a smug college boy who knew that he was all that, and you hated that you loved it. The undercut was especially appealing, but it was bugging you a bit.

“I do like it, Spence, a lot, but…”

“What’s wrong?”

You bit your lip as you glanced at him, “Well I liked it when your hair was a bit longer ‘cause it was something I could grab onto when we’re kissing you know.”

Spencer laughed and pressed his lips to your forehead, “Hmm I’m sorry hun, I’ll let it grow out for a bit if you’d like?”

“Maybe, we’ll see. In the meantime I guess I’ll have to use this,” you grabbed onto Spencer’s tie and pulled him close as you pressed your lips to his gently. Spencer chuckled and rested his hands on your sides as he pulled you in closer.

A moment later you pulled away quickly as you heard the water boil over and hurried over to push the pot to the side. Spencer chuckled and wrapped his arms around you again as you cleaned up, “See what happens when you cut your hair? I get distracted.”

Spencer laughed and kissed the side of your jaw, “Now you know how I feel when you wear my clothes.”

You chuckled, “I guess we’re even then.”

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @iluvreid @notn4t

If you want to be a part of my taglist go here!

You can find my masterlist here!

My requests are open so feel free to send one in! (SFW only)

[upsidedownwithsteve]

Ok for the smutty blurbs, I need a “needy Steve” maybe he’s been apart from the reader for too long but when they first see each other they have to get through a family dinner first so it just drags it out that little bit longer and the boy is desperate… but in the sweetest way. Lots of kisses and nose nudges 🫠🫶🏻

18+

It had been just over two weeks since you’d seen Steve, the last kiss shared on your driveway, chaste and parent appropriate before you drove off with your family, heading for a reluctant vacation in Palm Springs.

You’d spent most of your time by the pool, head hidden in a book, skin warmed by the sun and your thoughts completely occupied by the boy you’d left behind. It would’ve been pathetic if you hadn’t returned to be greeted by your boyfriend who’d clearly missed you just as much.

Steve had been at your front door before you had managed to get your suitcase up the stairs, a grin on his lips that made his face light up, eyes bright and trained on you even when your father opened the door.

He was half forced into an impromptu dinner with your parents, pizza boxes stacked on the kitchen island that everyone picked at as he politely as your mother how she enjoyed California, and did your dad get a chance to play much golf?

It was hard to keep up with the conversation, to follow the topic when all you could do was watch the way Steve’s lips moved when he spoke, how he licked over them after every sip of lemonade, how you knew he’d taste like citrus and mint when you finally got him alone. And he stared at you across the kitchen like he knew, like he was just as desperate to get his hands on you as were, like he knew how much you’d missed him, like he was intent on proving that he’d missed you even more.

But he was too polite, offering to do the dishes for your mom as she fawned over him, chattering about lasagna recipes and could he ask his friend Eddie to look at her car exhaust?

Maybe it was only twenty minutes, maybe it was an hour. But it felt like another two weeks before your parents left to visit the neighbours for some wine, before you were able to drag your boyfriend up your staircase, feet tripping over each other as you barrelled into your bedroom.

The bed bounced as you fell onto it, cool sheets crushed underneath overheated skin, Steve immediately holding himself over you so he didn’t squish you. But you spread your legs for him, urged him into the cradle of your hips so he could rock down into you, rolling and grinding just to show you how hard he was.

Desperate, needy, on edge.

“Babe, baby,” Steve whispered, cheeks all pink and lashes fluttering. He looked dizzy as he gazed down at you, lips catching yours in a kiss that was achingly soft. “Missed you, shit, y’got no idea. Need you so fuckin’ much.”

You wanted to tell him that you did know, that you missed him the same, maybe more. But Steve ducked his face to yours, nose nudging against your own in a gesture that was awfully sweet. You breath hitched, cheeks warming at the touch, chin tilting up in search for another kiss.

“Steve, please.”

It went on like that, clothes shed with an urgency you hadn’t experienced before, shorts on the floor, bra hanging from the bedpost, Steve’s shirt lost to the mess of your half unpacked suitcase. His hands were everywhere, all consuming in the best way, rough and warm and running up and down your ribs before they were spreading your thighs and teasing at your folds.

He hissed and swore at the slick he found, the warm wetness that made his eyes roll back. He played with you until you were whining, glassy eyed and gasping at the way Steve couldn’t stop his cock nudging up against your hip, leaking and too hard, the roll of skin on skin making his breath come in short pants.

It was easy to give him what he wanted, easy to pull him back into your arms and wind your hands into his hair as he slid into you. And just for a moment, the desperation stilled, just for a little while. The wet, hot heat of you making Steve sigh, the stretch of his cock making you keen. He found you again, his nose nuzzling against yours, the smile on his face lazy and soft, the rock of his hips against yours sending electricity up and down your spine.

[silentwhsprs]

━━━━━ marthas diner , miles morales

miles and his family are dining in at your workplace, he embarrassed you infront of your entire class, remembering that miles has been missing out on a lot of spanish, so you’re using that to your advantage.

You washed the dishes that were leftover from your friends last shift. It was about 9:30 P.M. at night and nobody usually dined in around this time so you were left to close up after 10:15P.M.

You checked your phone ever so often since the gentle song of “California Love,” by Tupac was playing. It was a classic so you hummed the tune while drying off your hands. You noticed the sudden movement of shadows outside of the window shades and quickly hid behind a counter.

“Hun, you have to trust me on this! Martha’s Diner is where all the kids used to meet up at. They sold milkshakes for the price of 25¢! Are you hearing me! 25¢!” A voice exaggerated, “I know but I’m telling you, these waitresses are rude and don’t listen!” The lady-like voice replied.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s here..” The man voice began, “Hello! Anyone here? Are y’all open!?”

You stood up from your squatting position and walked toward the group, you realized it was Miles’ parents, Rio and Jeff.

“Oh hey, I didn’t expect to see you Mr and Mrs. Morales! Is Miles tagging along with you guys tonight?” You smiled gently.

“Yes he will be. We all planned to end the night on a good foot even though Miles is grounded. He should be coming in here shortly. He had to grab something from the car.” Rio explained.

“Okay.. so table for three then? Follow me.” You said, walking over to an empty booth that sat in the corner, although it was in the corner it had the best view of Brooklyn in the entire diner. Many people often reserved to sit there.

“Thank you, amor.” Rio smiled, the abrupt ringing of the bell is what captured both of your attention. It was Miles, he had his usual blue and red jacket combo but his face was wet and his jeans appeared to be damped from the inside.

“Miles, trae tu culo aquí!” (Miles, get your ass here!) Rio shouted waving her hand over to the booth. As he walked over you reminisced of earlier that day when he called you out in class that you had slobbed all over your computer the previous night which led to your computer keys jamming. You were so embarrassed you ran out of class not even caring for the detentions you were given for the rest of the month.

“Ah, I’m coming, Mamá.” He groaned. He walked passed you and hung the wet coat over the booth top. “Okay, well it’s only you guys. So I can give you a 25% Family Discount, just don’t tell my boss.” You winked, pulling out your notepad.

“So.. to start off with drinks what would you like?” You asked, “We’ll start off with waters.” Jeff said, opening the menu that was set in the center of the table.

Miles focused his vision on you, looking you up down gazing at the dress you were required to wear. Usually, you had to wear skates but since your boss wasn’t there you wore your tennis shoes that had been set in your locker for a few months.

You took in notice of Miles gazing’ you didn’t know whether his parents noticed but you were sure that you were going to make sure they did. “Mis ojos están aquí arriba, pervertido.” (My eyes are up here pervert) You spat, Rio’s eyes almost bulged out of their sockets, Jeff didn’t understand a word that you just said but knew it wasn’t good.

“Aye! Miles! The 3 months of you being grounded has been turned into 5! And I swear if you miss another class, I will ¡estrangularte y enviarte al campo de entrenamiento!” (I will strangle you and send you to boot camp)

“I wasnt-“ Miles started.

“I don’t want to hear it! Can we get the chips and salsa?” Rio asked still glaring at her 15-year-old son. “Of course.” You said glaring at Miles.

You walked toward the back, and grabbed the clean cups and filled them up with water, you also grabbed the tray alongside the paper and filled it up with chips. Grabbing the larger tray you put all of the items on there and began walking toward the group.

“Here you guys go, These items will be on your bill as the appetizer, now is there anything you would like for your meal?” You asked, preparing the notepad once again.

“No love, how about you join us.” Rio said, moving over her purse to add room in the booth. “Oh no, I couldn’t.” You gently refused.

“Come on, I’m sure you’ll be a nice influence to this little knucklehead, he needs to find a young girl like you and not girls who refer to me by my first name.” She said referring to Gwen earlier that day.

“Ma, she wasn’t trying to provoke you, it was just harmless-“ Miles started, “Harmless?! You know your father and I hate being called by our first name and it’s no free passes to Gwanda or Gwen whatever her name is! Nor, Ganke!” Rio spat, slamming her hand on the table.

Jeff rolled his eyes at the situation, it was originally him and Miles but now it was between Miles and his wife. But, your awkward standing position was beginning to feel uncomfortable so you immediately sat down to ease the tension. “Okay.. Mrs. Morales, how about this. Puedo ear clases particulares a Miles en español, para que pueda pasar el rato con la chica blanca.” (I can tutor Miles in Spanish, so he can hang out with the white girl) You evilly smiled.

You knew Miles wasn’t ever in Spanish and when he was he was always zoning out as if he was ready to jump out of the window at any given chance, so you decided that since he decided to embarrass you in front of your entire class you would embarrass him in front of his parents.

Miles immediately shook his head instantly at your words which caused Mrs. Morales to look at him suspiciously, “Gracias (Y/N), Rees el único amiga genuino que tiene.” (Thank you (Y/N), you’re the only genuine friend he has) Rio thanked.

Miles threw his head back as Jeff started laughing, the entire salsa bowl was gone and the only chips that were left was just crumbs. “Hey Miles, how about we start off with a quiz just to assure that you aren’t a No Sabo Kid..” You smirked.

He glared at you, his honey brown irises piercing through yours. “Eres una chica sucia.” (You’re a dirty girl.) He growled. “Y eres un pervertido.” (And you’re a pervert) You smirked.

Rio looked shocked at the choice of words being transferred between you two, “Cálmate, todos son 15.” (Calm down, everyone is 15.)

Miles relieved the tension by slouching down, he knew he liked Gwen but there was just something about you that made his stomach turn. He loved bothering you and embarrassing you he loved how flustered you got whenever he pointed out the littlest things about you.

“Gay Amos a la parte de atrás, si quieres continuar con esto.” (Let’s go to the back, if you want to continue this.) You suggested, you also knew that Rio understood every word you just said, but did Miles?

“¿Qué?” Miles chuckled nervously. Rio’s eyelids begin to rise, but the sudden announcement of Jeff’s radio sliced the tension with a knife. “Ugh, sorry, honey. I gotta go. Deal with the kids, alright, I love you.” Jeff stammered attempting to climb over Miles and run out the door. Since his dad left the only thing you could do is get Miles flustered on how he made you flustered all the damn time.

“Well, your fathers gone. But I’m not done with you Miles Gonzalo Morales. Now help this girl tidy up. I didn’t even get to taste the food because your gordo de padre.” (fathers fat) Rio sighed, grabbing her purse. “Get her home safely Miles.” She said before hearing the last ringing bell.

The tension between you two was sky rocketing.

LMK IF I SHOULD MAKE A PT.2 OR MAKE ONE ABOUT EARTH 42 MILES. SEND ME REQUESTS SURROUNDING THE SPIDERVERSE ONLY PLS!!!

[hrtavenue]

─ rosamund song

──

rosamund song , 25 years , 5'3 , hs teacher

──

face claim: iceychen2002 on 小红书

ro: mason

──

> if carefree was a person, it'll be rosamund. she's extroverted, friendly and enthusiastic about what the future has in store, always plastering a smile on her face and trying her best to be positive.

> she lives in the moment, often neglecting to think and plan appropriately for it once she's fascinated by an idea.

> in spite of her happy personality, she's pretty stubborn too, and isn't afraid to dish out snark back at someone.

> she enjoys throwing playful jokes out, dishing out a perfect balance of teasing and cheek whenever she particularly feels like it.

──

> clothing style

> beige casual long-sleeved shirts, usually paired with either a skirt or some sweatpants.

>wears accessories depending on how she feels on that day. she's particularly fond of rings.

──

> extra info !

──

> rosamund moved from california, with her parents being immigrants from china.

> major procrastinator! usually finds herself doing up her lesson plans for the next day in the dead of the night.

> highkey loves sarcasm. any slight HINT of it will have her burst out laughing.

> has a little journal! she tries to write in it as much as possible

> she majored in biology and is very passionate about it! she currently teaches science at a highschool level.

> (will absolutely be best friends with taren)

@apt502-if oc

[averagewriter-inthedark]

Before He Cheats | Dagger Squad Imagine

Takes place after the events of TGM

TGM Masterlist

Characters & Pairings: female pilot!reader x Dagger squad (platonic), reader x ex!oc (past romance)

Content Warnings: angst, cheating, profanity, ends with sweet revenge | female!reader (she/her) | wc: 3.8k

Requested 📨 yes/no (rules for requests)

Premise: One thing about cheaters, they’re always gonna get caught. Whether right when it happens or years down the road the truth always comes out. And one thing they should realize is revenge is a dish best served cold.

Note: I finally finished my first year of grad school!!! Fucking finally people. Now I can relax and get to the drawing board. I already have visions and outlines for all current requests in my inbox and be sure to check out my April/May upcoming works and my pinned works in progress for what’s coming and posted! Thank you for your patience and to the anon who requested this I hope you liked it!

Also y’all….is there like some freaky shit going on with the universe and my works 💀 cause three days after I posted Lover inspired by Taylor swift she and her man of 8 years broke up and now I’m posting a cheater imagine (this request is from end of February) when there’s stuff going about Glen 👀 this is just freaky now

—————

Friday night at the Hard Deck consisted of a full house ready to kick off the weekend with beer and music. For a few years now Y/n had been working at the bar serving drinks and singing from 8pm to 9 as a way to make extra cash while her college sweetheart Ryan, who was a Lieutenant Junior Grade, was stationed at Miramar. Having not been married despite being a couple for so long, Y/n lived off base with some roommates while her boyfriend stayed in the dorms, however, he’d come to her place after work and stayed on weekends.

It was rare to see a military couple not be the stereotypically, “we got married right after I commissioned so my partner can be my dependent and travel with me when I get orders.” No, that wasn’t Y/n and Ryan. After Ryan’s commission Y/n stayed to finish up her Master’s at the University of Miami where they met while he was sent to Japan for two years. Then he was stationed in Virginia, followed by Lemoore, and now he was at Miramar. The longest base he’d been at. Y/n had been with him in Virginia, but didn’t move to Lemoore as she had a three-year contract with her job at the University of Virginia.

Toward the end of his two years at Lemoore, Y/n called Y/n to inform her he was being stationed at North Island and the contract was to be at least five years. Wanting to be close to him after being apart for so long and filled with hope they’d finally settle after Ryan hits ten years in the Navy, Y/n transferred to the University of California San Diego as the history of music professor. She also took on a part-time job as a bartender Friday and Saturday since she was only teaching two sections that occurred on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Plus Penny allowed her to sing Friday nights as an added bonus knowing she loved music.

Y/n settled rather quickly in North Island. With her two jobs she developed a friendly social circle consisting of the UCSD staff on campus and regulars at the Hard Deck. Several of the aviators took a liking to her. They knew Ryan and would often meet up every Friday after work to catch up on the week and watch her sing. Y/n always had their rounds ready the moment they walked in, “got ya seven cold ones.”

“Already?”

“The newbie over there didn’t read the sign. Round’s on him.”

They’d cheer Y/n on when she sang, literally the loudest bunch in the whole bar. “Sing it girl!”

“Ariana ain’t got nothing on you!

Phoenix sometimes sat at the bar when she needed to get away from the guys. “Are you working tomorrow?”

“Penny gave me the night off since I got papers to grade…but If I get done early I’ll be free.”

“Please, I am in need of a girls night. Hell I’ll even come help you grade if you tell me what to do.”

“Damn, Nat, were the guys too much this week?” She placed another beer in front of the pilot, removing the empty one to discard. “This one’s on me. You look like you need it.”

“You have no idea, Y/n. All week we’ve been training for an upcoming mission and they’ve been driving me nuts.”

Ryan had his own group of friends from the base who’d come toward the later hours of the night. They’d usually take up the space at the bar, Ryan greeting Y/n with a kiss and telling her how the day was. He’d nurse a couple beers before he and Y/n would retreat to her apartment when the place closed at eleven.

They’d been together for several years, coming up on their eighth anniversary when Y/n discovered his infidelity.

And it wasn’t just a one-and-done “I was drunk and stupid, she doesn’t mean anything,” type of deal. No, this was a long going affair lasting almost a year.

What was the kicker? The other woman was a married coworker of his.

Now Y/n may have had the reputation of being the sweet, down to earth, understanding person who would never hurt a fly. But as soon as her eyes landed on Ryan, her partner of eight years, shoving his throat down another woman’s throat while grabbing her ass like it would vanish from thin air…..she saw red. Kill Bill sirens blasting in her mind. Y/n wanted to ruin both of them seeing she wasn’t the only person betrayed. The woman’s husband was also being deceived.

And what was punishment for adultery and extramarital sexual conduct? Well, according to the Uniform Code of Military Justice those in the military who are married or have affairs with married personnel are dishonorably discharged, forfeited of all pay and confined for one whole year.

Was it harsh? Maybe some would see it that way. But cheaters need to be taught a lesson.

And Y/n was gonna make sure they got it.

For a whole week Y/n put on a brave face. Accumulating photographs and screenshots of text messages, emails, and bank statements to show proof of the affair and how long it had been going on. She secretly got in touch with the husband of the Lieutenant Ryan was sleeping with, presenting him with everything. Heartbroken and angry, he agreed to remain quiet until the meeting Y/n had set up on that following Friday with their partner's supervisor.

“I know this is a lot to ask,” she exhaled, tired from everything and having to act like she was fine. “But come Friday they’ll be faced with the consequences of their actions. I’m sorry you’re having to go through this as well.”

“It’s not your fault—you’re not the one who cheated on me. You’re the one who found out and had the decency to tell me. We both got screwed,” he rubbed his face with his hands, wedding ring flashing under the light. When it caught his eyes all he could do was glare at it. “The only thing making this somewhat bearable is the fact they’re gonna be hit with the ultimate blindside.”

Y/n nodded to his ring, “What are you gonna do?”

“I’m contacting a divorce lawyer once I leave here. Hopefully the papers will be drawn up quickly so I can bring them to the meeting. Make it a double whammy. You?”

Y/n threw back the rest of her gin & tonic, letting out another tired sign, “I booked a flight to Cabo. Spring break is next week so I’m gonna take a well needed week long vacation and then figure it out from there.” Sunny skies with margaritas and radio silence seemed to be the best therapy at the moment.

For the next three days Y/n maintained a strong façade. Whenever Ryan went to kiss her she’d kept it short or moved to where his lips hit her cheek. She continued to send screenshots to her phone and delete the conversations so he wouldn’t notice. When she surprised him at work for lunch the day before the meeting it really threw both the cheaters off.

“Y/n,” his eyes went wide, “what are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d surprise you for lunch,” she held up a bag of homemade stir fry, bidding a glance at the woman who also was white a sheet. “Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Y/n.”

“Becca.”

“Becca,” she repeated, a smile tight on her lips. While doing so she gave an obvious glance to Becca’s ring finger, finding the diamond. “Beautiful ring you’ve got there. Are you engaged?” Becca became flustered, but kept calm.

“Married.”

“Ah, your husband has a great eye for jewelry. You’re so lucky.”

Ryan was quick to cut the conversation short after the mention of Becca’s husband. Visibly uncomfortable with how Y/n was throwing their aldurty in their face despite not knowing she was aware of it.

The next day Y/n marched into their superiors office, dressed like a corporate CEO ready to fire the entire team for an unforgivable mistake, with two boxes on each arm. One filled with all the evidence of Ryan and Becca’s affair, the other containing all of Ryan’s belongings he had at Y/n’s apartment. Becca’s husband, Tim arrived a minute later with a folder of divorce papers in his hands.

They met with the supervisor first. Y/n introduced who she was and who Tim was, presenting the box of evidence and explained while the Captain shuffled through the papers. Visibly disgusted, the Captain thanked Y/n for bringing it to his attention and promised the adults he would handle the rest.

“Are you calling them in right now?” She asked.

“I was planning to this afternoon, why?”

“I’d like to be present if you don’t mind,” a hand came up to the other box she had, “These are his things and frankly, I want to see the look on his face.”

“Me too,” Tim piped up and waved the folder in his hands. “These need to be served to Becca.”

The supervisor simply shrugged and said, “if that’s what you want, fine by me.” He hit a button on his phone, “Wilkins, please inform Lieutenants Stevens and Leeds they need to report to my office immediately.”

“Yes, sir.” Though her heart was racing, Y/n remained poised and took a seat against the wall of the room. Tim sat beside her, both setting their gaze on the door to await their soon to be exes.

Roughly ten minutes later, a knock on the door sounded and the Captain gruffly said, “enter.” The door opened to reveal Ryan, whose eyes went straight to his superior before scanning the room ultimately resulting in him to freeze where he stood. Turning white as a sheet, Y/n could only imagine what was running through her ex boyfriend’s mind. There was great satisfaction seeing his eyes flicker from her to Tim to the Captain.

“Have a seat, Lieutenant,” the older gentleman's finger pointed to the seat in front of his desk. It seemed to snap Ryan from his daydream, the man stumbling into the room and unable to form words.

When he sat the first thing he tried to say was her name to which the Captain voiced, “I didn’t say you could speak, Lieutenant. Keep quiet, we’re waiting on one more before we get started.”

Becca’s reaction was pretty much the same when she arrived two minutes later. “T-tim,” she stuttered, red as a tomato and fear etched on her face.

“Rebecca,” his tone was blank, matching his expression. Just the full name combined with the parties in the room indicated to Becca she was about to have the worst day of her life.

But hey, maybe she shouldn’t have cheated then.

And Ryan? Mans was shitting bricks where he sat. Couldn’t even bring himself to look at Becca when she sat in the chair beside him. He kept trying to plead to Y/n with his eyes but she wasn’t having it.

The Captain got right to it. He laid out all the evidence on the desk for the two to see, Becca immediately breaking into tears while Ryan tried to explain. What could he explain though? How could he defend a year long affair with a married coworker in front of her husband, longtime girlfriend and superior.

When it came time for the Captain to discuss where to go from there, Y/n excused herself by dropping the box of Ryan’s things into his lap, “Here’s all your shit,” it nearly spilled onto the floor when the action surprised him. “Don’t call, text, show up at my place or at the bar tonight otherwise I’ll call the cops. I’m done with you, Ryan. Thanks for wasting eight fucking years of my life.”

“Wait, Y/n, please—,” she cut him off when he went to stand.

“You’ve not been dismissed yet,” that got him to freeze, noticing the Captain smirking in the corner of her eye. She turned to Tim, “Thanks for your help. Good luck with everything and I hope it works in your favor.” Becca gasped, realizing what the folder in Tim’s hand represented. It spurred on another wave of tears.

“Thanks,” he gave a tired smile, “And good luck to you.” With that Y/n was out the door and Ryan was out of her life. First thing she did was go home, change, and drive to the Hard Deck. Penny immediately poured a glass for her, “long day?” Y/n accepted the beer with a nod.

“Glad it's almost over.”

“What happened?”

Y/n felt the tears welling in her eyes. The emotions she had been holding the past two weeks had finally broken free. Concern formed on Penny’s face. “Ryan was cheating on me for the past year.”

“No,” the woman gasped. Never had she thought Ryan, who always came to the bar to keep Y/n company and watch her sing and her partner of almost a decade would betray her like that. “Did you just find out today?”

“Last Monday. I went to bring him his dry cleaning he left at my place and found him making out with his married coworker.” Another gasp left Penny. “I’ve been playing actor the past two weeks to make him think everything was okay while I gathered proof. Told the woman’s husband a couple days ago and we both met with their superior today. Gave him his stuff while I was at it.”

“I’m so sorry honey,” Penny reached over to pat her hand, “he’s an asshole and you’re worth so much more than him.” Y/n softly smiled at that, mumbling a thanks. Penny served her another glass, “Take the night off okay, I can call Elise to take your shift.”

If Y/n was being honest the offer sounded like a dream. She wanted to go home and cry herself into a bucket of ice cream while watching Brooklyn Nine-Nine until she passed out. But part of her also wanted to sing her pent up feelings out. “Thanks, Penny. I’d still like to sing though if you don’t mind. I could use the release.”

“Of course,” Penny waved a hand, “Whenever you feel like it I’ll have Jose set up the mic. Your guitar’s in the back where I keep the stock.”

For the next couple hours Y/n caught up on grading some papers at a booth while she waited for 8 to roll around. By 6 most of their regulars from the base arrived, signaling the end of the work day. Nat was the first to spot Y/n, strolling over and immediately noticed by the professor's body language that something was off.

“What happened?” She sat across from her.

“What makes you think something happened?”

Nat gave a look, “first, you’re not working the bar.” Y/n shrugged, trying to be nonchalant.

“Penny gave me the night off. I’m still singing though so I thought I’d hang out for the time being—catch up grading before spring break next week.”

“The tone in your voice is off.”

Y/n scoffed even though the pilot was right, “It’s not off.”

“What’s not off?” Rooster comes up, pushing Nat aside so he could slide into the booth.

“Y/n’s acting off and won’t say why.”

“I’ve been grading papers for the last two hours,” Y/n rolled her eyes, “sixty to be exact and all are six pages each. If I sound off it’s probably because I’m tired.” Again, Nat doesn’t appear convinced.

“But you’re still gonna sing even though you probably would rather be home sleeping the day away?”

“Friday nights are what I look forward to during the week,” Y/n scribbled a grade at the top of the paper in front of her, placing it on the stack, “I get to see you guys and sing whatever I want. I wouldn’t miss this.”

“Is Ryan coming?” It was an innocent question and one to expect from her friends given they had no idea of the events that’d taken place. However it didn’t stop the sharp intake of breath Y/n did.

“No, he’s not,” she quickly added before they could ask why, “he got held up at work. His supervisor needed to discuss some things with him.”

“Uh oh,” Rooster made a face, unaware of the boiling anger surfacing in Y/n. “That can’t be good.”

“Yeah,” Y/n clicked her pen, finishing up the last paper. Nat decided not to press further on what was bothering her friend. If Y/n wanted to say then that was up to her.

So to brighten her mood Nat bought her a round and challenged Y/n to a game of pool. Y/n packed up her things, placed them behind the bar and then greeted the other daggers.

“There’s our favorite singer,” Jake announced with a smile. “We were wondering where you were.” Y/n took the cue Rooster handed her.

“Just trying to get through the semester, Hangman.”

The two women played best out of three with Y/n winning the first and final game. By the time they finished it was pushing 7:50 so Y/n informed Penny she was getting her guitar. Once retrieving the instrument she returned to the floor to see Jose had set up the mic and stool for her.

Grabbing a glass of water, Y/n took the stage and set the glass beside the stool before clearing her throat, “Hey everyone.” There were a few hoots and whistles from her friends and regulars at the bar. “How’s your night going? Good?” There were some ‘yeahs’ from the crowd, people moving to get drinks and settle close to the stage. “That’s great to hear. Just sit back, relax, and feel the music.”

Y/n played several songs, all acoustic, starting with Taylor Swift’s ‘Getaway Car’ followed by ‘Back to Black’ by Amy Winehouse. She changed the tune by playing Bill Withers ‘Ain’t No Sunshine,’ but changed ‘she’ to ‘he’ that not many caught. She played ‘Norman Fucking Rockwell,’ by Lana Del Rey and ‘Somebody That I Used To Know,’ from Gotye.

Coming up to the final five minutes of the hour, Y/n gulped the remaining bit of her water and put on a brave face. “This last song,” she paused to close her eyes, “fits the theme you’ve been hearing all night, but is a little more close to the heart. It’s dedicated to someone who’s not present in the crowd which really is a good thing because he knew what was best for him,” very quickly Y/n saw the confusion appear on her friends, some whispering to each other to ask if they knew what she was talking about. “If you can relate to this song because you’ve been on the receiving end of betrayal then my heart goes out to you for I feel your pain. If you can relate because you’ve been that one to betray someone, well, I’ve got nothing to say to you.”

Letting her fingers drum against the strings, the beginning chords of ‘Before He Cheats’ by Carrie Underwood echoed through the bar.

“Right now, he’s probably slow dancin’,” her voice carried into the mic, raw with emotion. “With a bleached-blond tramp and she’s probably gettin’ frisky. Right now, he’s probably buyin’ her some fruity little drink. ‘Cause she can’t shoot whisky.”

Out in the crowd Nat cursed under her breath, anger rising at the realization, “That sly bastard.”

“What?” Mickey whispered, the guys leaning in.

“Right now, he’s probably up behind her with a pool stick. Showin’ her how to shoot a como. And he doesn’t know….”

“Don’t you see?” She gestured with a hand to Y/n, “Ryan cheated on her! That’s why he’s not here. That’s why his supervisor needed to see him. It’s why she’s dedicated this song, a song about a cheater, to him!”

All the sirens ring in their heads as Y/n belts the chorus.

“I dug my key into the side of his pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive. Carved my name into his leather seats. I took a Louisville slugger to both headlights, I slashed a hole in all four tires. Maybe next time he’ll think before he cheats.”

“Oh,” the word left Jake’s lips, fury in his green eyes. Y/n was his friend, and nobody hurts his friends. “Oh he’s gonna regret that.”

“You guys thinking what I’m thinking?” Rooster crossed his arms over his chest. All of them shared a look. Nat took one look at Y/n and saw how she was holding back tears.

Kill Bill sirens flooded her brain.

“Yeah, I think we are.”

Come Monday Ryan was emptying out his desk while he awaited his discharge hearing, dark circles under his eyes and in dire need of sleep. As he carried the box out to his car, it fell from his hands with horror coating his face.

Parked in the same spot his beloved red Mustang Charger was not the way he left it. The windows were shattered, tires slashed, the leather of his seats torn. His license plates were missing and the word cheater spray painted in white along the sides.

Hiding behind the building, the guys were biting back their laughter at his reaction. Bob holding the spray paint can, Mickey with the Louisville slugger and Bradley and Jake with pocket knives. Reuben had the plates behind his back and Javy kept checking the phone where he had hacked into the building's security cameras to make sure they were disconnected.

Right on time, Nat came running around the corner in her PT gear, slowing her run when she approached a visibly distraught and furious Ryan. Removing her headphones the pilot whistled, “Damn. That’s gonna be a field day to fix.”

Ryan snapped his head to her, “Do you know who did this?” His tone was accusatory and Nat couldn’t blame him. He knew she was friends with Y/n and frequented the bar every week. He wouldn’t put it past Nat being involved. “Was it you and her? Huh? Y/n had to get one last final laugh—as if she hasn’t done enough!” Nat only scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“I wouldn’t throw accusations so loosely, Ryan. I’ve had PT all morning and Y/n left for Cabo yesterday.” There was no lie in her statement. Y/n was currently sitting at the poolside of her resort with a margarita in her hand. She’d posted on her instagram stories and let Nat know when she landed. Plus the pilot did have PT and was finishing up her run before heading to the flight line.

But she was the mastermind while the boys did the dirty work.

The truth only angered Ryan more, his face turning even more red. “Then who did this?!”

“How should I know?” Nat smirked, putting her headphones in as she started to move past him. “But maybe next time you’ll think before you cheat.”

………..

TGM tag list: @avaleineandafryingpan @caitsymichelle13 @poppyalice2001 @cutelittlepotatofry @luckyladycreator2 @americaarse @elenavampire21 @back-tooo-black @wildellaa @artemissunn @pinkpantheris

[half-oz-eddie]

Billy couldn't be discharged from the hospital unless he had somewhere to stay and someone to care for him.

He could hardly move on his own, needed medication and was haunted by nightmares. Simply put, he couldn't do this on his own even if tried.

The Byers moved to California, he learned, wishing he could have gone with them.

Joyce said he was more than welcome to join them when he didn't require as much medical care. Traveling in his condition was dangerous anyway.

Steve's parents ranted and raved about how incompetent Steve was and he wasn't capable of being a full-time nurse for anyone when he could hardly take care of himself. Steve just believed it was an excuse for them to say no. While Billy was in the hospital recovering, Steve was constantly by his side. The rumors spread, and everyone knew there was something between them, but Steve didn't care. He loved Billy and promised he'd check on him everyday, no matter where he was.

Mike offered up his basement, and Billy told him he would rather get flayed again than stay in his house. He'd never explain why, though.

The obvious option would be for Billy to go home, but Neil didn't want to be bothered. He called Billy a "burden" and told him to check himself into an adult care home. As much as Max hated it, she had no say in the matter.

That left Mrs. Henderson, who, upon learning Billy had nowhere else to go, offered him the spare bedroom in their house. She was recently laid off, and took a job from home stuffing envelopes.

Billy received a generous amount of hush money from the government, and was willing to pay for the room.

The first night was a little awkward. Billy had never spoken to Mrs. Henderson before, and he hadn't spoken to Dustin very much, aside from some small talk when he visited him at the hospital.

He was in too much pain to sit upright at the dinner table, so Claudia propped him up on his bed and convinced dustin to join her in keeping Billy company.

They ate together and watched Shadowlands, which Dustin and Billy found dreadfully boring.

As Claudia had her back to them, Dustin turned to Billy, mouthing about how boring the movie was.

They tried to hide their laughter, pretending to enjoy the movie when Claudia turned back to look at them.

"Wanna see something cool?" Dustin whispered.

Billy nodded. He doubted anything Dustin would show him would be cool, but he was wrong.

Dustin was working on some figurines for D&D and Billy thought they looked pretty badass.

Claudia turned to them again, smiling. "So I was watching the movie all by myself, hm?" "Sorry, mom. I thought Billy would want to see some of the stuff I was working on and—"

"It's alright, Dusty. You boys have fun playing with your toys, I'll clean the dishes."

"They're not toys mom, they're..." Dustin sighed. "She doesn't get it."

"At least she's here."

Dustin nodded. "Yeah, she's a great mom! Hey, d'you like comic books?"

"Max used to leave them lying around and I'd look at them. They're okay, I guess."

"Wait here—I mean...sorry. I forgot you...couldn't move." Dustin winced.

Billy sighed, brushing off Dustin's awkward comment. "Bring me a drink while you're up."

"You got it!"

Billy watched Dustin run out of the room, then glanced down at Dustin's figurines.

"Steve will get a kick out of knowing his best friend likes me."

[who-knew-a-sheep-can-write]

Reunited: Reaper x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Contains: Soft sex

It’s been ten years; Ten long, cold and very lonely years since you saw your husband. You remembered the whole day down to the dot, you couldn’t help but wallow is misery from it for so long.

It was a party at the Overwatch base in Switzerland to celebrate Overwatch’s success with an infiltration and he had invited you to stay for a few days. When the fun was over and your stay ended, you bid him goodbye on the plane back your home in California to wait for his arrival. He had gotten clearance for a break from Morrison, family issues is what he said but it was really because he was thinking about settling down and starting a family. You spent the whole day cleaning and cooking for his arrival when you heard of the awful news.

The base had been bombed.

Overwatch agents showed up at your door hours later to give you the news that they could not locate Gabriel in the wreckage, all they could find was his wallet, the very small wedding photo kept in the slip was missing.

Overwatch paid you his insurances and made sure you were taken care of, by protocols and policies- but you didn’t give a shit.

They kept saying he was dead, but you knew it wasn’t true.

He was alive. Somewhere, somehow, but you knew he was alive.

For ten years, you never gave up hope, that there was some slim and nearly impossible chance that he would be found somewhere.

Your life continued on as best as you could. You wake up, go to work, come home and go to bed only to repeat the cycle every day for ten years.

Not once did you lose faith.

It happened about two months ago. You noticed things were off around you, you felt like you were being watched, you noticed things would be moved.

You would come home to a window being open that you knew you had left closed yet nothing was taken.

You would notice things like your bed had been made when you left it a mess during a bout of pressuring grief, dishes that you had left in the sink now clean and put away.

What stuck out the most was that you had heard something go bumo in the night and when you went to go investigate, you found the fireplace mantle had been meticulously cleaned, frames of pictures of you and Gabriel spotless with the glass polished.

The news of Overwatch reforming had broke and had settled in your gut an odd feeling. You knew Gabriel was out there somewhere, but somehow this news had twisted your gut in knots.

It was one of those days, you had been caught thinking over the past, still grieving, still meticulously playing with your wedding ring as you wandered around your house. The stench of cleaning supplies had your nose tingling.

Last night it had happened again. Something had been done as you slept, urging you to go through your house and clean and try to see if something was taken again.

This time something was added to your house.

You woke to find Gabriel’s old Blackwatch beanie on your end table, folded and pressed neatly, still smelling like his shampoo.

You wandered into the kitchen, intent on pulling apart the cabinets just in case whoever it was that was doing this had hidden more of Gabriel’s things somewhere else.

You bent down to start digging when you saw a dark shadow move in the corner of your eye.

You felt a presence behind you, something large and looming. You swore the air around had gotten colder. Your back stiffened, your shoulders squared, and you hesitated on turning around to face the person that was behind you. The warmth was sucked out of your home by whoever it was, you heard the creaking of what sounded like heavy boots- oh how you missed that sound.

Your heart started to pound in your ears, your eyes twitching with tears, your lips quivering as you had to bite your lips to stop from letting out a shaky breath.

The familiar scent of cinnamony warmth hit your nose.

You spun on your heel to face the intruder-

To face him.

“Gabriel?” you whimpered.

There was a big looming figure just behind the archway from the kitchen to the living room. He stood there, draped in black like he normally always did. Instead of his tight and jagged Blackwatch armor that you remember to be all shiny and glossy was now instead black leather and rubbers, a flowy black coat that obscures most of what else he’s wearing. What struck out to you the most was the mask he wore. A bone white mask against the midnight clothes he wore, shaped as though an owl skull tried to play human with the narrow eyes and the high cheeks of the mask. He looked thinner, he looked cold and pained where he stood. His hands were balled at his sides, clawed gloves in tight fists.

“(Y/n),” he echoed back.

How you’ve longed to hear your name spill from his lips once more, even if the circumstances are like this.

“Gabriel, is that really you?” you took a step forward towards the wraith.

“Mi amor-” He mirrored every step you took. “Mi amor, I’m here.”

One step closer, two steps, three until you both had crossed the distance and met under the archway.

“You’re really here…” You gently raised a hand and ghosted it over his chest. God, he really was cold, almost as though he were dead. He made no move to back away from your touch, he stood rock-still before you. You gently placed your hand on his chest, palm flat against the broad expanse of his built body. “You’re alive.”

You looked at the hollowness of the eye sockets in his mask, and somewhere in the darkness, you saw the glints of his eyes.

You moved your hands to his mask, cupping the sharp and jagged jawline. It was colder than he was and bone-smooth. He reached up carefully and wrapped his fingers around your wrists, keeping his eyes pinned to yours at all times.

“(Y/n)-”

“Let me see you, Gabriel.”

Your voice was just barely audible, the wraith tensed under your touch at those words. You both stood in complete silence for god knows how long until he had released your wrists, allowing you to slip the mask off his head.

You gasped softly, eyes widening with tears. He was just as handsome as the day you both met. He didn’t look much different. Still the thick and brooding eyebrows, the dark and warm chocolate eyes, his dark goatee that always prickled your skin in the best ways when he kissed you. His skin had a slight gray tone to it, and his face had a few deep scars along the cheeks and one across the bridge of his nose that was new, but other than that, it was still your Gabriel.

Gabriel softly cupped your cheeks and looked down at you, a few tears slipping past and dribbling down his cheeks.

“You’re just as beautiful as the day I saw you last,” he whispered.

Before you knew it, you both had your arms wrapped around each other’s shoulders and necks. Your lips were smushed together as your fingers snatched at the back of his hood while his fingers were buried in your hair. Your mouths melted together, tears flowed from both of you, both of you were shaking.

Finally breaking for air, Gabriel didn’t let you go too far before he grabbed at your waist and hoisted you up without a second thought and carried you to the bedroom he last saw over ten years ago.

Placing you on the bed as carefully as he could, you couldn’t help but lay on your back before him, your hands still grasping at his brawny shoulders. Gabriel placed one knee up on the mattress beside you, climbing on top of you. His hands were on either side of your head, caging you in beneath him. His hood had been thrown back and he was panting wildly, there was something carnal in his eyes.

Leaning back down to capture your lips in a kiss once more, he leaned his torso down just a bit lower so your chests were touching. Your heart was pounding so loud you swore he could hear it, that he could feel being this close to you again.

It felt like it was a dream, some sickly sweet dream that you would wake from and go back to a missing husband in a cold and lonely house.

But it wasn’t.

Gabriel growled into the kiss lightly, it sent tingles and little shocks down your spine and crackled a fire somewhere deep inside of you. You moaned softly into the kiss and snatched at the collar of his coat, fingers scrunching up the smooth leather and dragged him even closer to your body until there was no space between you both.

Gabriel broke the kiss with a soft growl, nosing your chin to the side to leave kisses along your jaw and down the columns of your throat. His cold body pressing against your warm flesh made your face heat up among other places. You moaned softly and he pressed a kiss right over your throat, sucking just hard enough that it would leave a mark surely in the morning.

“I’ve missed those moans, mi amor,” he purred. He took in your scent, hands balling the sheets and blankets roughly under his harsh grip. “I’ve missed the way you felt, the way you smell, the way you make me feel.”

“Gabriel,” you whined. You felt something hard start to poke at you from below. You knew what it was, what was pressed right against your nether area so closely. “Gabriel, I-”

“Say it,” he ordered.

He made eye contact with you and refused to break it. His eyes were wild, pleading, knowing what you are going to say.

“Gabriel I need you. Ten years and I need you more than ever.”

Some deeper hunger settled in his gaze, chocolate eyes going dark and lust took over him.

“I’ve waited to hear those words for years,” he hummed.

He backed off the mattress but kept you laying down on your back. He shrugged off his cloak and allowed the thick leather to pool on the floor at his feet as he toed off his boots. He grabbed at your loose pants and pulled them carefully off your body, down your legs where he took his time to admire the curves of your body so far. He was examining you, looking over the body of his wife, of his lover that he hasn’t seen in a decade.

“Tell me what you want, mi amor, and I will give it to you.”

“I want you, Gabriel. I want you to make love to me.”

Gabriel reached for your hips and drew you closer to him, just enough for your knees to bend at the edge of the bed. He hooked his fingers around your panties and dragged them down, allowing them to fall to the floor with your pants and his cloak and boots. You shivered at your bareness being exposed to the chilly room. Your soft nethers were wet, but to Gabriel, you knew it wasn’t wet enough.

Gabriel kneeled at the mattress just far down enough to pull your knees over his shoulders. Slowly and as gently as he could, he leaned his head forward and parted you with his tongue. It was cold against your hot, moist core. You whined and arched your back, Gabriel grasped your legs so you wouldn’t move as much.

It felt like days that he was licking and sucking at your womanhood, draining you of everything you had, all of the pent-up emotions you’d bottled up for a decade now just evaporating now that he was here eating you out.

Gabriel had pulled away, you’re knees were trembling as he held them. You looked up to see there was a glisten to his goatee from your slick. You hadn’t orgasmed yet, but you felt it was coiled tight within you like a cobra, ready to strike and release and let you climax finally.

Gabriel carefully wrapped your legs around his waist before he went to fumble at his belt and zipper. The damn thing was worse than wrestling a snake, not wanting to move and release until he finally managed to unravel everything and drop his pants to join yours.

You’ve missed him. You’ve missed this. You’ve missed all of this, all of him.

He was gentle, rubbing the head of his cock with his thumb, smearing the bead of pre-cum that pearled out around the head. He leaned over you, propping one knee up again on the mattress. Ever so slowly, you felt the head of his cock brush against your wet folds, you felt yourself be split from your core as his thick cock spread you apart. You grabbed at his broad shoulders as you gasped, your head turning against the mattress and sheets.

You cried out in pleasure as you felt him slip inside of you. He fit so perfectly, his thick cock stroking the insides of your plush velvet walls just tightly enough to cause blissful friction thts sent your head spinning with supernovas and galaxies before your eyes.

He fucked you slowly, he leaned down to press kisses to your sweaty flesh with his cold lips.

[imisscherryboy-blog]

running back 2 u

enemies to lovers - football player! ajax x sports med! gn reader

part 1 part 3

spotify playlist (it’s good i swear)

3k words…………….💀

story: you and ajax have known each other since elementary school. those years haven't been always the best, as you both parted ways due to your differences in personality. that is, until one hot august night, where the stadium lights illuminate the turf, you find yourself running back to him again.

notes: !mature themes! (no smut) enemies to lovers, modern au, gender neutral reader, childe is referred to as ajax, last name tartaglia, american football, all characters are 18+ as seniors, highschool setting, part 2/3, gn reader, ajax is bi (since it’s gn), alhaitham and kaveh are gay, tbh kaveh kinda ooc imo, ajax is a bad boy ⛓️🥀 california coded

side characters featured: kaveh, alhaitham (alhaitham x kaveh), mona, albedo

warnings: mature themes, themes of sexual harassment (not described), reader almost gets kidnapped, drugs, alcohol, smoking, swearing, reader tells childe to kys (satire we in love w him)

★ part 2 of an ongoing series ★

ajax and his mom’s car drove further and further from the empty school. it was 11pm now, and you made your way back to the field to help clean up. the walk to the football field among the poorly lit school lights filled you with a sense of nostalgia—akin to how you first felt when you met ajax. you were snapped out of your thoughts as you saw kaveh jogging toward you.

“hey—you okay? what took so long?”

“oh boy.” this was gonna be a long night.

you drove kaveh and yourself to a nearby denny’s to debrief. you ordered pancakes and kaveh ordered probably the most, intricate, dish on the menu. over sharing food, you two both explained what happened while separated. you went first in retelling the events of taping him up to meeting his mom.

“he’s definitely not over you.” kaveh said taking a sip of his hot chocolate.

“dude, i feel like that’s such a mom thing to say though.” you argued.

“oh yeah my son talks about you 24/7 even though you haven’t talked in years!! let’s be serious y/n.” kaveh always knew had to make you laugh.

“i’ll think about it… but i wanna know what happened with you and alhaitham.” you tried to move the conversation away from yourself.

“you will never in a million years guess what happened.” kaveh said, loudly whispering.

“okay, so i won’t guess. what happened?”

“he gave me his number.” he said as his hands flew up to his face. “i’m still in shock.”

“oh my god.” you said, almost in disbelief.

“and that’s not all.. he invited me.. to a party. his party.” at this point, kaveh was practically standing up.

“don’t even lie..” you said.

“oh i’m not lying.” he took out his phone and showed an imessage thread of alhaitham sending kaveh a date and time, along with an address. your hands covered your mouth. he was serious. “and you’re coming with me.”

“yeah right.”

“oh, you’ll be there alright.”

you were there alright. the two of you stood outside the large house, viewing the students and strangers scattered across the lawn. it had been two weeks since the incident with ajax. not a word had been exchanged since then. but you cared more about kaveh, who has always been there for you, than some now stranger that presumably hates you. so you decided to accompany him. ajax and alhaitham were close, so you knew damn well you’d be in for a long night.

“well.. my future boyfriend is waiting inside. let’s go.” kaveh said as you both walked inside. it was a big house to say the least. alhaitham’s parents were some high ranking officials for the state school board, so they had money—and the ability to pull strings at any school they pleased.

“these high ceilings… and oh my god these exposed beams..” kaveh started to ramble on about the architecture of the house. he was into that stuff. you just nodded your head and pretended like you understood. you two walked to the drink table, and you both took a shot of pink whitney (it was disgusting) and a hard seltzer as a chaser.

“’m glad you guys made it.” an unfamiliar voice could be heard behind the two of you before you turned around. it was alhaitham.

“hi alhaitham!” kaveh sounded a little too happy. you also said hi and let the two of them go. you didn’t want to third wheel so you talked to some friends that were also at the party.

you couldn’t find ajax, though.

you hated that he was the first person you wanted to look for in this crowded room.

you figured he was off with someone, but nonetheless continued to keep and eye out for him, to steer clear of him, of course.

“and i just knew off the bat he was a scorpio.” your friend in your government class, mona, said as she took a sip of her drink.

“you’re so talented.” another friend of your’s, albedo added.

“if he was a cancer, it’d be a whole other story. everyone likes cancers..” she trailed off.

ajax was a cancer.

“hey y/n, let’s go take another shot.” mona suggested. “you down?”

“sure.” you figured saying no would leave you alone. albedo followed the two of you. after a couple of shots, mona kept talking.

“weren’t you the one that went with ajax after his last game?” mona’s question snapped you out of your daze.

“oh, yeah. that was me.” you explained.

“you didn’t hear it from me, but ajax’s fan club kinda hates you now..” well that was great. you didn’t even do anything.

“oh for real?”

“mhm, i even heard you two go way back.” albedo added. how would anyone know that..? let alone care that much? you thought to yourself.

“who’d you hear it from?” you asked.

“i heard two girls talking about it in econ.” albedo nonchalantly said.

“oh.”

in that moment, you felt a pair of eyes staring at you. you looked to the right of albedo’s head and saw ajax leaning against the wall, beside another guy. the guy was looking at him and talking, but it seemed like the only thing he was focused on was you. he took a sip from his red solo cup as you both held contact for maybe a second, before he looked away. it seemed he was already staring at you.

“y/n?” mona said.

“oh, sorry. why don’t we take another shot?” you suggested. something in you wanted to forget about him for a little bit to relieve yourself of the jealousy you felt. you knew that guy was his next victim, and it made you upset that that’s the person he’s become.

you, albedo, and mona took more shots after that. mona was gone by that point, and you were pretty sure you were drunk. luckily for you, you weren’t too much of a talker when you got drunk, you just felt dizzy and tired.

“i think we should go, mona. you need to sleep.” albedo said as he ushered a tipsy mona out of the door. you said your byes and stood at the steps of the house, watching them leave. you shouted a small “text me when you’re home” to which albedo nodded. you checked your phone for the time. it was 11pm now. you figured you should go find kaveh.

you walked along the twisty halls of alhaitham’s house. it felt like everything was spinning. you just wanted to sleep. you couldn’t go home unless you found kaveh. you didn’t want to leave him, and he’d understand if you wanted to go home. you recalled you didn’t see ajax after only seeing him for a second. maybe it was just the alcohol talking, but you felt as if you were being watched. you didn’t know by who, though.

you ended up in the living room again. you sat down on the large couch next to a couple making out, keeping your distance. you put your hands on your face, rubbing your eyes and trying to stay awake. you kept telling yourself that you needed to find kaveh, but every passing second made you feel more and more tired. a short nap wouldn’t hurt, right?

and just like that, you fell asleep on the end of the couch. you would admit it’d be kinda embarrassing to fall asleep at a party like a little kid, but you couldn’t help it. you were in a daze, half asleep and half awake. you could still hear the loud music, but your body was asleep. you saw two blurry figures in front of you.

“let’s take them …”

“my house? …”

“let’s go …”

what we’re they talking about? maybe they were talking to each other. why were they looking at you though? all of a sudden, you felt yourself being lifted up by the two guys. you honestly thought it was kaveh trying to get you back home, but he wasn’t that big. you felt yourself leaning against one of the guy’s arms, as the other one held you up. you felt yourself heading for the door before another guy stopped you.

“fuck are you guys doing?” a familiar voice said.

“oh—they’re our friend. they had a little too much to drink.” the two guys laughed. that was when you realized those two men were indeed not your friends but probably two low lifes trying to take advantage of you.

“y/n you know these guys?” the voice asked you. you nodded your head ‘no’ in response. you felt yourself being pried off by the person in front of you.

“who do you think you are? huh?” the guy that was trying to kidnap you said loudly. you had a headache now. all you could feel was a warm arm around you, and your head resting on.. ajax?

“who even are you two?” you heard alhaitham’s voice now. when those two guys carried you, they felt way too big to be high schoolers, college students?

“that’s none of your fucking business. get the fuck out of our way.” one of the two guys said. you felt a hand grab for you before ajax pulled you away from them.

“it is my business dipshit, i’m the owner of this house.” alhaitham retorted. by now, there was a small crowd around the five of you.

“alhaitham take y/n upstairs, i’ll deal with them.” ajax said as you felt alhaitham after a couple seconds pick you up with ease. usually, you’d be up and well awake by now, but that pink whitney had you paralyzed. you wanted to just say you could walk, but if you did, you’d probably collapse on the spot. contrary to some beliefs, alhaitham wasn’t a bad guy. kaveh liked him for a reason. he wouldn’t jump from girl to boy like ajax did. he carried you up the stairs and stopped in front of a room, before muttering something to himself.. about kaveh? then walking to another room and placing you on a bed, before immediately leaving, shutting the door behind him. you looked around the room before falling asleep. needless to say, it was a really nice room. it had a balcony and a big tv. it was a good size and the bed was pretty comfortable. there was a sports duffel bag on a chair that had your school’s logo on it. there wasn’t any equipment in it, just clothes. were you in alhaitham’s room? you looked a little closer and saw a hoodie laid out on the edge of the bed. it had your school’s name and the number 11 on it.

number 11?

why would ajax’s hoodie be here?

your headache only got worse, especially after almost getting kidnapped. you could heard the commotion downstairs, most likely ajax trying to get those two college guys out of the party. you slowly drifted to sleep.

after what felt like a couple hours, you woke up. you felt severely hungover but you tried to ignore it. it was still dark outside, and the room was cold. too cold. you picked up your phone that was on the charger and saw the time, 4:00 am. you had a couple of notifications but none of them were from kaveh. wait, you didn’t plug your phone in before going to sleep? who plugged it in?

“sleep well?” a voice could be heard from the balcony. the door was wide open, and you looked over. ajax stood at the door to the balcony with a cigarette in his hand, wearing that same hoodie you saw before going to sleep.

“no—what’re you doing here?” you said as you rubbed your eyes, slowly getting up.

“alhaitham had the bright idea to put you in my room.”

oh.

you were in ajax’s room.

“sorry.” you said. it went quiet for a minute. “you shouldn’t be smoking.” you pointed out.

“it’s either this or the oxycontin they prescribed me.” you’d much rather have him smoking a cigarette then.

you were sitting on up on the bed now. you needed to get kaveh and go home. you still were processing the events from last—a couple hours ago.

“you kept saying my name in your sleep..” ajax said blowing a puff of smoke outside.

there was absolutely no way. you felt your face heating up, were you actually??

“just kidding.” he ghosted the smoke.

“genuinely kill yourself.” why’d you believe him so easily? that would’ve been the worst thing to happen to you that night. after almost getting kidnapped. “where’s kaveh?” you asked.

“he’s out, alhaitham’s room.”

oh my god.

you’d need to debrief again with kaveh later.

“where’s alhaitham’s room? i’m taking him and going home.” you stated as you began to look for your belongings.

“how’re you getting home?” ajax asked.

“uber.” you said.

“like an uber’s gonna accept your ride at four in the morning.”

“you gonna drive me then?”

“if it comes down to it, yeah.” why was he being.. nice?

“you shouldn’t be coming to these kind of things if you leave yourself this vulnerable.” ajax said, taking a drag of his cigarette. “you haven’t changed, y/n.”

“well you sure have.” you said under your breath.

“grow up, y/n. just because you’re stuck in the past doesn’t mean it’s a bad thing that i’ve changed.” he had a point, but you’d never say that. “we’ll never be those kids again.”

you chuckled, “at least i can stick to one person. it doesn’t seem like you’re very good at that.”

“who? you can stick to who?”

you. that’s what you wanted to say. that’s what he wanted to say, too.

“nobody—just tell me where alhaitham’s room is.” you wanted to leave. remember how you thought he was being nice?

“down the hall on your right.” ajax said, walking back to the balcony. it felt like talking to a stranger.

you followed his instructions and arrived at the door. should you knock? or just go in really slowly? you put your ear against the door, trying to listen for any, sounds you wouldn’t exactly want to hear. it sounded quiet. you reached for the door handle and slowly pushed down, but it stopped there. it was locked. you cursed kaveh in your head, once again that night. you heard ajax’s agitating, grating voice down the hall, laughing. you just rolled your eyes and tried texting kaveh.

“y/n, it’s not gonna work. just wait until morning and you guys can uber back together.” he had a point. what was a couple more hours? at least you wouldn’t be leaving kaveh either, but you’d be stuck with ajax. that’s not something you really wanted, but it was for kaveh.

“do you have any food?”

you and ajax ended up in the kitchen, eating cereal. you pushed the cinnamon toast crunch around in your bowl as you sat at the island. ajax was in front of you, pouring himself out more cereal. it was quiet for the most part. one thing about the two of you was that you’d both be too scared to be the first to do anything. but that was a long time ago.

“how’s your knee?” you made some attempt at making conversation.

“recovering. what’s it to you?” of course he just had to say something that would piss you off.

“absolutely nothing.” you responded, taking a bite of the cereal. “did you fight those college guys?”

“oh yeah the ones that tried to abduct you and you just let them?”

that pissed you off. it wasn’t your fault, if anything, it was whoever let them in.

“if you did fight them i hope they beat the shit out of you.”

“maybe you should learn how to be more careful at parties. also another reason why you shouldn’t even be here.” he retorted.

“you’re such a bitch, you know that? i came with kaveh because i’m actually a good friend. it’s not like you ever were.”

“don’t start with that shit y/n.” he looked angry now. “i saved your ass and i don’t even get a thank you?”

“thank you. happy?” ajax’s phone started buzzing, it was closer to you than to him, so you saw the text messages.

myqb😘: kaveh’s w me

myqb😘: you should talk to y/n while you have the chance 🤑

myqb😘: and help me clean my goddamn house

that’s all you saw before he took his phone back. what the fuck was with the emoji? and the name?? ajax texted him and laid his phone screen down now. he didn’t see you reading the messages. you and ajax have argued twice in one night, you started to remember why you two aren’t friends anymore. you put your hands on your head, rubbing your forehead. you felt your headache coming back.

“what’s wrong with you?” his look softened a little when he saw your face.

“nothing. just hungover.” you responded.

“you need painkillers?” it was like he read your mind.

“i’ll take some if you have any.” you admitted.

“i got opioids, cigarettes, and tylenol. your pick.” you couldn’t help but laugh a little.

“tylenol.” you said.

“you sure?” he asked. you nodded your head in response. he went upstairs to go get your pain killers. why was he doing this? his face when he saw you in pain made your heart melt. why did it seem like he still gave a fuck about you? more like you two both gave a fuck about each other. you started thinking. you helped him out, and he’s helping you. your headache only got worse.

-> part 3

tag list - lmk if you would like to be added :)

@zamorazz

[demxters]

—GLITCH, part 1

jake seresin x f!reader (aka star)

top gun maverick au

“i think there’s been a glitch…”

synopsis: when star moves in to her late grandmother’s beach house, she meets the man of her dreams. the only problem, he’s from seven years in the past and when she meets him in the present, he’s unlike the man she fell in love with. unable to recognize the man in front of her, star takes it upon herself to bring back the man she once knew. the man before hangman. the man that was jake seresin.

wc: 3.1k

warning(s): 18+, f!reader, nicknamed reader, talks about death and grief, swearing, mature content

✧ plot and details of this fic are based on the novel “the seven year slip” by ashley poston

series masterlist | find it on ao3

a/n: i hope you all enjoy this first part! as always special s/o to @blue-aconite who is really the whole reason why this series even exists in the first place, ily

It wasn’t fair that you were here without her. If you listened close enough, you could still hear her laughter bouncing off the walls. You could smell the snickerdoodle cookies she always baked when you came to visit. You could feel the warmth of her rib crushing hugs wrapped around you. Opening your eyes, you are met with a dark and empty house. You have spent more time here than in your own home, but now it was unrecognizable. This house and the box that sat in the attic was the only tangible thing you had left of her. Your chest aches as you’re pierced through the heart at the realization that you were never going to see her again. 

You were here and she was not. There was nothing you could say or do that will change that. 

_____________________________________

“So. You think you’re ready to man this side of the bar on your own?” Penny Benjamin stands in front of you with her hands on her hips, dish rag slung over her shoulder. 

It has been a week since you moved from Colorado to San Diego, California, and things were surprisingly starting to fall into place. On your first night there, you ran into an old childhood friend of yours, Natasha Trace. Her family owned the beach house a little ways away from your grandmother’s. The two of you met on the beach when you were kids and she became your summer best friend whenever you came to visit. As time came and went, the two of you continued to grow, drifting farther and farther apart. It was a miracle that she was right where you last saw her on that very same beach, taking a late night walk at the same time you were. 

The two of you fell into place like pieces of a puzzle, catching up and getting along like no time had passed at all. When she brought up your grandmother, you disregarded her with a shake of your head. You deflected with complaining about your recent unemployment and how desperately you were looking for a job. 

Natasha lit up, immediately knowing the perfect place for you to go. You spent one week under Penny Benjamin’s wing, learning how to be the perfect bartender for her establishment. 

With a sigh, you rest your forearms on the tabletop across from her. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” While most nights, you sat back and watched as she manned the bar alone, this would be your first time helping her out with the rush. Your palms were starting to sweat, leaving an outline of your hands on the table. The nerves were finally getting to you and it didn’t help that tonight was the night that Natasha’s friends and colleagues were coming back to North Island. The Hard Deck was the best Navy bar in town and Natasha assured you that everyone in a uniform would be flocking there. 

Barely your first hour into your shift, you realized that Nat wasn’t over exaggerating at all. The place was filled to the brim with people. A sea of khaki and navy blues were all pressed shoulder to shoulder in that bar. You were surprised that anyone even had room to drink, let alone breathe, with how congested the place was. 

The bar was warm and the air was buzzing with excitement from the aviators and other patrons. Being the first new face to grace the bar in a while, you immediately drew attention to yourself. You liked to think you were doing a good job so far, considering no one had complained about their drinks. That or they were too nice to complain. It wasn’t until a mustached aviator approached your side of the bar with a stoic look on his face that you were afraid you messed something up horribly. 

You gulp, wiping your palms on the front of your apron, hoping that it wasn’t obvious that you were a nervous wreck. “What can I get for you, sailor?” You disguise your discomfort behind a snarky remark. 

He arches a brow, leaning against the bartop with one arm and tilting his sunglasses down the perch of his nose. The man gives you a once over, his eyes darting up and down your figure. 

Your cheeks burn at the action. 

“Aviator,” he states, matter of factly. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You called me sailor. I’m an aviator. Naval aviator, to be exact. And you are?” The way he leans in ever so slightly clues you in on what he wants. 

With a scoff, you slap your rag onto the table. “Not interested, flyboy.” You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “Now, did you actually want anything or did you just come here to flirt?” Your eyes flit to the bell above your head, just in case the words that flew from the man’s mouth were unwanted. 

He opens his mouth to respond before his head falls slightly forward, his sunglasses toppling onto the counter. An embarrassingly girlish squeak leaves his lips as Natasha steps up beside him. 

“Leave my friend alone, Bradshaw.” Nat asks you for a glass of water that you hastily prepare. 

With your back turned to the duo, you listen intently to their conversation. 

“This is her? Well, shit, Nat if I had known I wouldn’t have been such a–” 

“Douche?” She finishes for him with a snort. 

You turn with an uneasy smile on your lips, placing the water in front of Natasha. 

“Bradley, this is Star,” she gestures to you with a smile. 

His mustache twitches as his lips pull up slightly at the corners. “Star, huh?” 

You huff, crossing your arms across your chest. “Yeah, it’s just a nickname I’ve had since I was a kid.” 

“Well, Star,” he grins. “Welcome to FighterTown, USA. You’re gonna love it here, I’m sure.” 

You return his greeting with a small nod before busying yourself with the other patrons. 

Nat eyes you warily as you make your way around the bar. It doesn’t go unnoticed by her that you purposely don’t tell Bradley about your complicated history with the small town. 

As the night went on, you saw more and more of Natasha’s crew. They were an interesting group, one you wouldn’t think to be compatible with one another had you have met them individually. Seeing them altogether, however, helped you understand why their last mission went so successfully. Despite them being unable to share all the details, they were more than happy to vaguely reenact the events of the mission just enough for you to understand. 

The “Daggers,” as they called themselves, were more than welcoming towards you. You knew it was partly because of your association with Natasha, but you appreciate their kindness nevertheless. 

Upon getting to know each of them better throughout the night, you decided that you liked Bob the best. He was quiet, shy, and a bit of an introvert. But he was unabashedly sweet. 

Fanboy and Payback were a little more rambunctious for your taste, but they were entertaining and a joy to be around nevertheless. 

Your impression of Bradley was slightly tainted from your first interaction with the man, but you could tell he was a good guy. 

Overall, you could imagine yourself finding a place among Natasha’s posse. However, this thought was almost a little too good to be true. You curse yourself silently for even entertaining this idea in the first place. 

You put back up the walls you’ve built around yourself over the years, not wanting to let them in, only to get disappointed once again. People always leave. They wouldn’t be any different, especially with the nature of their job. It was inevitable. You wouldn’t get too attached. 

A commotion has begun to stir up around the billiards tables and your attention gets pulled towards the sharp whistle that leaves Payback’s left. “Hangman, Coyote! Get over here!” He gestures towards the two men. 

The crowd parts like the Red Sea, making way for Hangman and Coyote who both sport charming smiles that are sure to make the ladies weak in the knees. You pause your bartending duties, curious to meet the two men. Natasha had told you briefly about both and you were interested to see what they were like in person. 

Coyote, just as his callsign, gave you a wolfish smile that suited the features of his dark eyes and wide smile. 

Your gaze drifted to the man behind him and your heart stuttered in your ribcage. You’ve never met the man in front of you before, yet for some reason there was an air of familiarity around him that had you dying to get closer to him. Your head cocks to the side as you observe him. 

Surely you’d remember meeting a man like him before. With a gorgeous Southern California tan and golden hair that complimented the green of his eyes, he was a sight you knew would be hard to forget. Hangman was just as Natasha had described. His posture and arrogant smile screamed cocky and overconfident. He knew the effect he had on people and he wasn’t afraid to use it to his advantage. 

The last thing you expect is for him to catch your wandering eyes. The second his gaze lands on yours, that smile of his vanishes in an instant and he pails. Almost as if he was seeing a ghost. 

“Stargirl?” He speaks, shock evident in his tone. 

Now that sends your heart into a frenzy. You knew Natasha hadn’t told any of her friends your cherished nickname until she properly introduced you to them. The slip of Hangman’s facade as he makes his way to the bar confuses you just as much as the word he uttered. 

Before you’re even given the chance to ask the man how on Earth he knew you, you’re whisked away by the patrons on the other side of the bar who are now calling for your attention. 

By the time you have them all taken care of, when you turn around to face the Daggers, Hangman is gone. 

You try to ignore the lack of his presence for the rest of the night, distracting yourself with the rest of the group once more, but the look on his face and the way that name fell from his lips wouldn’t leave your thoughts. 

Stargirl. 

_____________________________________ 

There’s a warmth that hums in your chest every time you step into this house. Staying at your grandmother’s was your favorite part of summer vacation. Here, you felt like you were transferred to a completely new world. Deep down you knew you were really just in Southern California, but your childish wonder liked to pretend you were somewhere far away from the world you knew. 

At your grandmother’s, you could be a pirate whose ship was sunk and washed up onto the shore of the beach house. Your grandmother was a tavern maiden who offered you shelter from bandits who were also looking for the buried treasure. 

Or you could pretend that you were a princess and this beach house was your castle. The sand and the sea was your kingdom and every day you would journey through the treacherous waters in search of your one true love. 

Most nights, however, you pretended that you never had to leave and face the real world. That you could stay in this particular moment in time, forever. Never being forced to grow up or face the reality that was ahead of you. 

As you sat on the wooden deck of the house, bundled up under blankets and drinking hot cocoa with your grandmother as you looked out to the sea, she told you the story of how she and your grandfather met. About the magic of the beach house. 

“You’ve heard this story a million times already, my Star,” she chuckled under the pale moonlight. Her features shone in the light, giving her a look of youth that she hadn’t inherited in a long time. 

“That’s okay, I want to hear it again,” you smile toothily at her. 

She wraps you tight in your arms as she stares out at the sea with a dreamy look in her eyes. “Oh, alright. The first time I saw your grandfather was on the shore of this very beach…” 

A place that was once so alive has never felt so dark and empty. You couldn’t even bear to unpack any of your boxes, not wanting to taint the impression that your grandmother had left there. Why had she left this place in your name? She knew you never wanted to come back here and even in the afterlife she had managed to get you to step foot into this house again. 

Four years. It has been four years since the last time you were here. Nothing had changed and yet everything had changed. When you looked around, everything was just the way it used to be. Your grandmother’s walls were still littered with picture frames filled with the people she cherished most in this world. Her bookshelves displayed knick knacks from her expeditions around the world. The throw blanket the two of you had knitted the summer of your freshman year of high school still sat neatly folded on the arm of her cream suede couch, almost as if your grandmother had just folded it back up after using it on the deck. If you closed your eyes and took a deep breath, there were still hints of sandalwood and perfume that lingered in the air. 

One more step into the foyer was enough to shatter the illusion in your head. One more step gave you a better look at the dust that collected on the furniture from being untouched for years. The cobwebs on the ceiling, a clear sign that your grandmother’s weekly cleaning schedule was not being kept up with. The house was quiet. Quieter than it has ever been. It lacked the joyous laughter and melodic singing your grandmother’s voice used to fill the room with. 

You were left with nothing but this house and the memory of her. Unpacking your boxes and touching her things solidified the fact that she was really gone. That she was never going to come back. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t destroy the one thing you had left of her. The one thing that wasn’t tainted by the sickness that took her away from you. 

You’ve been in FighterTown for over a month now and your boxes still lay untouched in the center of the living room. Your knees shake as you toe off your shoes and kick them haphazardly next to the shoe rack. 

Throwing yourself onto the couch, you wrap yourself in the blanket that still smells like her and you choke back a sob. 

“I need you, grandma,” you whimper. “Why did you have to go?”  

_____________________________________ 

Hangman knocks back another shot, hardly feeling the burn in the back of his throat. He had dragged Coyote from the girl he was flirting with at the bar to resume drinking in the comfort of his apartment instead. He knew Javy was probably pissed and slightly confused at his proposition, but he couldn’t stay at The Hard Deck a second longer knowing you were there. 

What the hell were you doing back at North Island? It didn’t matter now, especially after seeing the way you looked at him with absolutely no sign of recognition in your eyes. If that’s how you wanted to play this game, then fine. 

“That was her, wasn’t it?” Coyote breaks the heavy silence. “Penny’s new bartender?” 

Hangman runs a hand through his hair, unsure of how to answer his friend’s question. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He grabs at the bottle of Tito’s sitting on the coffee table and pours himself another shot. 

Coyote snatches the bottle and his shot glass away from him. “That may work with everyone else, but not me.” He looks his friend straight in the face as he asks again, “Was that her?” 

Hangman’s heart tightens in his chest as he lets out a shaky exhale. “Yes.” 

The confirmation makes his stomach churn and seconds later, he runs to his sink, emptying out all of the night’s contents. 

_____________________________________

The serene sounds of birds chirping and the waves crashing onto the shore wakes you from your slumber. You push yourself off the couch, bleary eyed, as you search the cushions blindly for your phone. You must have fallen asleep downstairs the night before. With no luck on finding your phone, you plop back down with a heavy sigh, throwing your arm over your eyes. 

Glancing out the big bay window, you’re able to see the light pink and blue hues of the early morning sky. You could just barely see the sun peeking out over the horizon signaling that it was still the early hours of the morning. 

Forcing yourself off your makeshift bed, you round the coffee table and instinctively dodge the boxes scattered around the room. 

Except, there weren’t any. 

You’re immediately snapped out of your sleepy trance, frantically looking around the room with wide eyes. 

Your mind begins running a mile a minute upon realizing the lack of clutter. You were robbed. You were sleeping right there on the couch and you got robbed. 

But who the hell would want boxes of old stuff when you were sure there were more valuable things to be found in the house? 

Shuffling from the room over pauses your spiraling. Whoever it was that stole your boxes was still in the house. 

You still have no idea where your phone is and you were not going to be a sitting duck in the middle of a crime. 

Glancing around the room, you look for anything that you could use as a weapon against the intruder. You silently pray that your grandmother forgives you in the afterlife for using her antique lamp as a form of self defense. 

Taking a deep breath, you quietly yank the lamp on the side table out of the outlet and hold it over your shoulder. You creep into the kitchen on shaky limbs, tightening your grasp on the cold metal that had started to slip from your sweaty palms. 

Upon entering the room, you’re met with the figure of a man you’ve never seen before. 

The man yelps, almost comically, at the sound of your footsteps and he spins around with a hand on his chest. He’s breathing just as heavily as you are. His wide green eyes meet yours and your heart drops to the pit of your stomach. 

Those eyes, you swear you’ve seen them once before. You’re just having a hard time pinpointing where. 

Swallowing harshly, you muster up enough courage to make your voice sound strong. “Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?” 

He throws his hands up in surrender as he backs himself up against the counter. “Jake Seresin. Who the hell are you?” 

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊, 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐄𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃!

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