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sometimesanalice · 2 years

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Like I Can (Part 3)

Summary: After yet another bad date and tired of swiping on apps, the Dagger Squad steps in to help you out by setting you up on a series of blind dates. Much to Rooster’s dismay.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, slight angst. Minors DNI

Length: 7.2K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

(All’s well that ends well❣️ Enjoy!)

You’d been on edge all day.

Having slept terribly the night before, you’d woken up early and giving up on the idea of going back to sleep had ended up at a sunrise yoga class, hoping that some movement would help you clear your mind. By the end of the hour you were even more frustrated than you were before you arrived, the poses feeling unnaturally forced instead of flowing seamlessly as they usually did.

So much for some goddamn inner peace.

Work was even worse. You had arrived to find that the espresso machine was broken. And whoever made a pot on the ancient drip machine, that was undoubtedly pulled out of a dingy storage closet somewhere, clearly hated everyone else since it tasted like tar. You could barely focus enough to clear out your inbox, when your work nemesis started breathing down your neck about a proposal that wasn’t due for another two weeks.

Time was dragging on. And every time you looked at the clock thinking it had been at least an hour since you’d last checked, were continually shocked to see that barely fifteen minutes had passed by. Thankfully it was Friday, so your boss didn’t care when you called it a day and left at lunch. It was better for everyone this way.

You had tried painting your nails, but didn’t have the patience to let them dry and smudged them trying to open a package of crackers. Ignoring the crumbs that got everywhere as you ate them while working the cotton pad over the remnants of your pretty pink polish. Your new favorite show didn’t hold your attention like it usually did and you found yourself mindlessly scrolling on your phone, missing most of the plot you’d had to restart it. Twice.

Not even the scenic drive along the coast to the restaurant you were supposed to meet your date at had done anything to alleviate your nerves.

You had been surprised at the choice of location when you had received the text message with the information about this particular date. As much as you enjoyed going to the Hard Deck, you were very much looking forward to drinking something other than a beer. Sure, Penny could make a mean spicy margarita, but sometimes an overpriced aesthetically pleasing cocktail just hit the spot better than anything else.

But most of all, you were thankful for a change of pace and the privacy this offered you. You had never been one for the spotlight, and dating on display had left you feeling drained.

You’re sitting in a surprisingly comfortable wooden wicker dining chair on the outdoor patio of the new trendy fusion restaurant you’ve been dying to come to. From your spot tucked away in the corner you can see the ocean waves rolling in and back out again. The golden rays already promising a stunning sunset later in the evening.

The foliage of the giant potted monsteras and birds of paradise made the terrace feel like a lush oasis, and contrasted stylishly against the large painted terracotta tiles on the ground. The pergola that covered it was dotted wisteria amongst the other climbing greenery, and numerous oversized hanging rattan sconces. The dainty lights woven throughout reflecting off the wine glasses on the table.

This was exactly what you needed. Too bad you couldn’t let yourself enjoy it, the twisted knots in the pit of your stomach had served a constant reminder of your nerves all day.

You had used this date as an excuse to finally buy the deep green floral dress you’d had your eye on for ages. The gentle drape of the neck was subtly sophisticated, while the high slit on the side added some serious sex appeal.

There was nothing wrong with a little retail therapy you had told yourself as you’d swiped your credit card. If you looked good, maybe it would help you to feel good.

In all honesty, it probably had a little too much sex appeal since you couldn’t stop fidgeting in your chair trying to get the silky dress cover up more of your thigh that was currently displayed rather provocatively. It felt like the more you tried to get it to lay right the more of your leg was exposed.

It probably didn’t help that you couldn’t stop the restless bouncing of your leg. You weren’t usually an antsy person, leg bouncing had always been more of Rooster’s anxious habit than yours.

Maybe you’ll feel less exposed once you draped the linen napkin across your lap. You’re tempted to do it now, but you don’t want to disturb the artfully laid out tablescape before your date has arrived.

It had been three weeks of back to back truly terrible dates. You could see the finish line now, but you couldn’t say that it wasn’t wearing on you. It had sounded like fun in theory, but now you weren’t so sure you would said yes again if you were offered a do-over.

You were tired.

Tired of going through the motions with men who could hardly be bothered to do the bare minimum. Tired of trying to sell the best version of yourself. Tired of putting on a show when all you wanted to find was an easy kind of love.

And this particular date had you more on edge and anxious than any of the other ones you’d gone on.

Even if you were pressed, you could not remember a single thing about the guy Payback had set you up with on your most recent blind date.

That evening you hadn’t even bothered trying to put together a cute outfit for the meeting. Instead, the only real effort you’d opted to put in was painting your lips a bright red as an attempt to psych yourself up for it. You didn’t usually wear such a bold color, but when you did it never failed to make you feel more brilliant.

And while you couldn’t remember anything about your date, what you did vividly remember was the fight you got into with Rooster that night.

You had been coming back from the restroom and on your way back to your date when you had bumped into him rounding the corner.

“Sorry, that was my fault,” he’d said as he reached out to steady you with hand going to your waist, dropping it once he realized it was you. “Oh, hey.”

Glancing over to your date who seemed absorbed in some game he was playing on his phone, you figured he wouldn’t miss you if you spent a few extra minutes away to catch up with Rooster.

He had been acting really distant lately, taking a couple days to respond to texts rather than a couple of hours like it usually took him. Natasha had told you about the rigorous training they were being put though, and you had assumed it probably had something to do with that. However, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off between you two.

Rooster was already pulling away from you and taking a step towards the bar when you reached out grabbing his wrist to keep him with you. Looking around for a quiet place to talk, you’d heard him sigh behind you, but still held on to him as you made your way to one of the high-top tables in the corner by the empty stage.

You’d stopped and let go as you turned towards him, only to find him already looking at you with an expression that landed somewhere between expectant and exasperated. The cuffs of his shirt straining around his biceps as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Well?” he grunted out.

Was he mad at you? You couldn’t think of any recent arguments you’d had recently that would explain the harsh tone he was using with you.

“Is everything ok? I feel like you’ve been really off lately. You know I’m always here for you, right?” Your hand was already reaching out to touch him, but you resisted the urge not wanting to further agitate him.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m surprised you even have time to talk to me with all these washouts you’ve been wasting your time on. You’re the one with the busy social calendar, not me.” He was looking over the top of your head avoiding your gaze now, the bitterness in his voice had stunned you.

“Seriously? What is the matter with you?”

He’d never been so intentionally callous with you before and it hurt.

“Listen, if there is an issue me dating the people your friends have been setting me up with, you need to let me know,” you’d said pointing a firm finger at him, your anger rising. “This was supposed to be a fun no pressure situation, but I don’t want to be in the middle of this if things are getting heated between you guys. It’s not worth it to me. But you don’t get to ignore me for days and then claim that I’m the one avoiding you.”

He made a noise of frustration as he dragged both hands through his curls. You could see the flex of his jaw as he’d clenched his teeth together.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he ducked down to that his eyes were level with your, and you could see the remorse in them. “You’re right, that was shitty of me to take it out on you. I’m just… tired.”

You’d simply nodded at him, feeling like you weren’t on the same page as him didn’t sit well with you. “Phoenix told me about your new training program, it seems intense,” your voice sounded small even to your own ears.

“Yeah, the training,” he’d sighed out pausing for a moment as he weighed his words, rubbing at his chest, “It’s taking a toll on me, but that’s my problem. I mean it, I’m sorry.”

“Are we good?” you searched his eyes, your friendship with him was so important to you.

“You and me? We’re good, kid. Always.” He’d reached out and squeezed your shoulder before heading back to where the group was gathered together pretending like they weren’t just watching your argument play out.

Needless to say, your head was somewhere elsewhere entirely as you made your way back to your date. You’d felt bad being so distracted, but your mind just kept playing the argument on repeat. It was like your brain was trying to pull apart every little word to decode something that you didn’t think was there.

After Payback’s friend had left, you rejoined everyone else around the pool table. You couldn’t tell if the mood was off or if it was just you reading into things, since they hadn’t been prodding you with questions like they usually did.

Natasha was in the middle of giving you a glowing review of the man she had been bragging about since she first offered to set you up, when Rooster came to sit with you both.

“He’s just your type. He’s an engineer, so he’s smart. He’s got that whole glasses wearing and floppy hair thing going for him. And he’s funny. Rumor has it that he talked back to his Rear Admiral one time and got away with it because the guy had found him amusing. I fully expect you to name one of your future children with him after me.”

Rooster had surprised the pair of you when he stood up so violently that he almost knocked over the beers on the table.

“What the fuck, Bradshaw?” Nat had exclaimed as you both worked to rescue the teetering bottles from becoming casualties from his sudden movement.

You had no idea what he was going to say as an explanation for why he’d jumped out of his seat the way he did, but what he ended up unexpectedly announcing instead of answering Nat’s question had sent you into a tailspin.

So now here you are in a restaurant you’d be dying to go to, fidgety and anxious in a probably-too-expensive-and-probably-too-provocative dress for a first date with the guy who Rooster was willing to break his long-standing rules for to set you up with.

To say you were feeling the pressure was an understatement. No one knew you like Rooster did. He’d seen you at your best and at your worst. He wouldn’t just pick any random guy he knew, he would be picking the one who he thought would be the best for you.

The thought should be comforting, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness.

You pick up your phone again and double check the time in the text that Rooster had sent you with all the details for your date with his friend.

It was either that do that again or moving the ever-so-slightly crooked gold salad fork back into place.

You’re about to open Instagram for the third time since you sat down, turning when you hear a throat clear purposely behind you.

“Hey, sweet girl.”

For Rooster, when you’d first agreed to participate in the bet with his friends those dates started off as annoying inconveniences. Just inconsequential disruptions that got in the way of his time with you.

You were his best friend and at his bar, yet he felt like he’d hardly seen you these past couple of weeks- or at least not as much as he would have liked.

Sure, he got some time with you here and there at the end of the night like when you had late night tacos on the beach. Or when he’d taught you his favorite pool trick, well more like attempted to teach you, he loved how stunningly bad you were at the game. But he felt like he was competing with these idiots his friends had picked out for your time and your attention.

He wasn’t used to sharing you. In the past, if you had a date that conflicted with something spontaneous he wanted to do or something that the group had planned together, more often than not he could get you to move it or cancel completely.

He’d never been above a little bribery to get his way, he knew what you liked.

You going on dates wasn’t a new concept to him, but seeing them paraded in front of him was a different story. And he was getting really tired of watching you from across the bar while feeling like you were out of reach.

The more of them you went on, and the more he heard Natasha crowing about having the perfect man for you the more agitated he felt. The worse that feeling in the pit of his stomach got.

The evening of date for Payback’s pick, they’d all seen you walk in through the doors of the Hard Deck wearing that shade of red lipstick. You’d wore it so well. His friends had immediately started speculating about what it meant. Phoenix had called them all idiots, and while he couldn’t claim to know anything about make-up and those things, he did know you didn’t just wear that color for no reason.

He had vague memories of his mom putting the color on when they’d go greet his dad, at least he like to think those were his memories. Or maybe they were just something he’d created in his head from all the time he had spent looking at old photos of his mom and dad together, her smile always outlined in the color. His favorite was the one where his dad’s cheeks were covered in bright red lipstick kisses as he smiled indulgently down at his mom while a young Bradley was propped on her hip clutching his prized F-14 Tomcat. He had that one framed on the end table next to his couch.

And seeing that color on you for a date with this random guy had rattled him.

He’d felt so terrible later that evening when he took those feelings out on you. Hating himself as he lashed out at you. Hating himself as he saw your face fall and the hurt in your eyes. Hating himself for being the person who made you feel bad.

And the crux of it all was that you weren’t wrong, he had been deliberately distant by being slow to reply and ignoring texts from you. He wasn’t proud of it, but he didn’t know what else to do. He’d hoped by creating some space that it would help him to try and get his head back on straight.

He’d let you assume that he was tired from the new training program they were being put through. What he didn’t tell you was that he was already outperforming everyone on the team, and that he hadn’t had to do any extra push-ups in a week and a half.

He was tired because he hadn’t been sleeping, and he couldn’t sleep because every time he tried to close his eyes all he could see was you on these dates. Replaying them in his mind’s eye wondering what the outcome would have been had they not gone so terribly wrong each time.

The what-ifs swarming around his brain day and night like agitated hornets.

While he had been quick to apologize for being a dick, the sharp pain that settled behind his sternum wouldn’t subside no matter how much he had tried to rub it away.

He didn’t know what was more unbearable, the idea of losing you to a chance encounter of circumstance. Some meet cute courtesy of the universe that he couldn’t see coming until it was too late, when it’s already too far out of his hands and out of his control. To see you grinning that smile so bright, the one so wide it made your dimples appear, as you introduced that guy to him.

Or sitting here night after night analyzing every little thing as you date the people some of his closest friends had picked out for you. Watching and hoping that these dates would just be funny stories you told on drunken nights out rather than the story told at your wedding about the night that everything changed when you met your person. Of having to be happy for you even as you pull away from him.

His ears were ringing and he’d felt his stomach drop.

He could see it now, a day when your life ran parallel to his rather than entwined as he was used to. Of you with a partner. With children. Of him as ‘Uncle’ Rooster, demoted to the rank of ‘longtime friend of the family’ rather than a core member of it.

The thought of it making him feel sick.

All evening he had been moving around like a ghost completely lost to the thoughts in his head, but now it felt like he’d been shocked by a live wire. He’d pretty much jumped out of the chair he had just settled in, almost knocking the beers in front of him off the table completely.

“I want in, I’ll do it,” he’d blurted out, interrupting the conversations that had continued on around him while he had been spiraling. “This whole thing has been a complete shit show. I can’t watch this anymore. I know a guy, I’ll set it up. I’m in.”

His hands were sweating as he hoped no one would call his bluff. He’d made it a point to actively avoid looking at you. You had such an uncanny way of reading him.

“I don’t know, Bradshaw. You’re a little late to the game, aren’t you? I’ve been saving the best for last, and I’m ready to collect my winnings.” He’d expected some shit from Hangman, but he never would have guessed it’d come from Phoenix.

Feeling his anger flare up, he reached into his back pocket and fished out a $100 bill from his worn leather wallet, double the original entry fee. He slapped it down on the table, leaving no room for any further discussion, “I’m the one setting her up for the next date.”

He’d caught a look between Hangman and Phoenix, but he couldn’t be bothered to read into it as he tried to keep his temper in check.

He wouldn’t lose you. Not to someone who didn’t deserve you, especially when he already knew the person who could make you happy.

“Alrighty,” Jake had drawled out, as he pocked the bill. “Looks like we have another player. I look forward to taking your money.”

He’d extended his hand out and they’d all shook on it, reaching Phoenix last her grip firm and her smile sharp. And that was that.

Now he was here at the new popular restaurant he’d heard you talking about a few weeks ago, his feet cemented to the tiles beneath him just gazing at you.

He could tell from where he was standing behind you that you were nervous by the way you were opening and closing apps without truly looking at anything. He knew it was a habit of yours when you were feeling anxious, something for your hands to do as you tried to distract yourself.

He had sweet talked the hostess over the phone into reserving the best spot on the outdoor terrace, and you looked so beautiful sitting there wearing his new favorite color. Your hair is held back by a delicate golden clip on one side leaving the line of your neck exposed, the sea breeze picking up a few wisps. It makes his teeth ache with want.

He knew you were gorgeous, he’d stared down enough men at the Hard Deck to know that others thought so too. However, he’d never let himself sit with those thoughts for too long, not trusting himself to keep his mind from wandering.

You were his best friend.

And best friends don’t think about how the other would look so perfect in their bed, that pretty green dress forgotten on the floor.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect you would look under his arm.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect you would look with his ring on your finger.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect you are for him.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect he is for you.

Him.

It was a good thing he didn’t want to just be your best friend anymore.

He’d already done too much thinking, done too much waiting. He wasn’t going to miss his moment.

Taking one more deep breath, he made his way to you.

“Rooster? What are you doing here?” He was the last person you’d expected to see when you turned your head to see who had been trying to get your attention, “Are you ok? What’s wrong?”

Did he get emergency orders? Did your date get in an accident?

Your anxiousness was quickly morphing into panic, you’re already half way out of your seat when he puts his hand on your shoulder, his thumb stroking the skin there reassuringly.

He is standing there looking completely at ease, as if he belonged there, “Nothing’s wrong, sweet girl.”

And there it was again, you hadn’t been sure if your ears were playing tricks on you the first time he’d said it. That simple term of endearment silencing the alarm bells that were going off in your head, the edges of the lush restaurant softening around everything except him.

“Your mom always called me that,” you say softly.

You cherished all the memories you had with Carole, the woman who had been such a significant figure in your life for so long. You knew your mom still sent Rooster a cake every year to celebrate her birthday from whatever bakery was closest to wherever he was stationed.

“I know, I remember,” his voice so warm and deep, “She loved you.”

He says it so simply, so sincerely. As if his presence here hasn’t just completely untethered you and sent you adrift in a sea of bewilderment.

The writhing snake that had made a home all day in the pit of your stomach finally disappeared, only to be replaced with the fluttering of wings that you were desperately trying to ignore.

You’d been so shocked when Rooster had exclaimed that he was going to set you up with someone, your mind had been whirling so much at the time you could barely focus on anything that had been said in the aftermath of his announcement. Maybe you had missed some caveat he’d come up with for his participation in the bet? That could make sense, considering how adamant he had always been in the past about never getting involved in your love life.

He was standing there looking so good in his best short-sleeved button up shirt, the one that was scattered with vibrant palm leaves that fit snugly against his body. And wearing the white slacks that usually had you looking anywhere else in the room to avoid acknowledging the way they clung to your best friend’s thighs and ass. If only he knew how weak they made you.

There just has to be a logical reason for why he’s here, but the soft smile on his face was rendering your brain uncooperative.

You were getting tired of feeling like you were missing something that should be so obvious, “My date is supposed to be here soon, are you going to hover in the back like you have been at the Hard Deck? Or are you just planning on pulling up a chair and third wheeling up close and personal?”

“Why would I need an extra chair,” he asks as he pulls it out and eases his large frame down onto the wicker seat, “When mine’s already free?”

You move to open your mouth when the waitress arrives, asking if you had your drink orders selected.

“I’ll do the Bourbon Sidecar. You feelin’ like a gin, sweet girl?” You just nodded at him mutely, still desperately trying to catch up. “And the Clover Club for her, please.”

It’s what you were planning on ordering to calm your first date jitters before had Rooster arrived and sent you into a complete tailspin. He hadn’t even looked at the thick textured cardstock of the drink menus that were strategically placed just to the right of the golden soup spoons on the artfully laid out table.

The butterflies were threatening to break free from the tightly locked cage you had attempted to shove them in.

The waitress took down the drinks, and you watched her as she crossed the patio pausing to tap away on the screen of their POS, trying to give yourself a few more moments to collect your thoughts.

“Bradley. I don’t understand, what’s going on?” He’s sitting there looking so secure, so steadfast, so sure.

His cheek ticks up, “I like it when you call me Bradley. Why did you stop calling me that when you moved out here?”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Why did you stop calling me Bradley when you moved out here?” he asks again, leaning in. How does he expect you to answer a question, when your mind is going 1,190 miles an hour?

“I don’t know,” you start with a halfhearted shrug. “You’ve made a name for yourself in the Navy, you are ‘Rooster’ to everyone here.” You open your mouth to say more, before closing it quickly.

“There’s more going on in that head,” you feel his foot reach out tapping against yours under the table, before leaving it there a steady presence. “Tell me.”

You know you can tell him anything, but this feels different.

The intensity of his stare has you fighting the flush you feel spreading across your cheeks.

It wasn’t something that you’d ever given much thought to before, but you know if you answer truthfully now that he’s asked you it’s going to leave you feeling more exposed than you’ve ever been with him.

You sit up more fully in your chair deciding to be brave, “I mean, we haven’t really truly been in the same place since we were teens, and things are so different now. It was easier to start calling you ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’ like everyone else, because it didn’t make me feel like I was piece from a different puzzle trying to force myself into a new picture. I wanted to fit into the life that you’ve built here, to feel like I still have a place with you as you are now.”

You’re actively fighting to keep your eyes on his. It would be so easy to look away or to laugh off your confession, but for whatever reason, you don’t want to take the easy out.

“I never knew you felt like that, but I wish I had,” the look in his eyes is softer than anything you’ve ever seen from him before. “I like being Bradley to you, I want to be Bradley to you. You aren’t just a piece to me, you’re the whole picture. You’ve always had a place here, exactly as you are you are now.”

It’s never been like this between the two of you. It feels like you both are saying too much and not enough all at the same time. As much as you find yourself wanting to sink into these intoxicating yet unfamiliar feelings, you know you’re still holding yourself back.

God, he is so handsome. You had been right, the sunset that was just starting was stunning, but the way golden beams were hitting the lightened strands of his curls was spectacular.

You’re almost too afraid to ask, but it’s unbearable not knowing, “Why are you here right now, Bradley?”

Of course, the waitress chooses that moment to return with the drinks.

She sets them down in front of you, the skewered raspberries sitting daintily on the side of your glass are suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room. You vaguely hear him saying you both need more time and that he’ll flag her down when you’re ready to order.

He waits for her to leave to attend to her other tables before turning his heady gaze on you once again.

“I thought I’ve been making my intentions pretty clear here, sweet girl.”

He takes a sip of his Sidecar before continuing, the slight bounce of his leg the only thing giving him away that he might not be as self-assured as you’d originally thought, “I’m here for our date.”

There’s no hope of containing the butterflies now. You’re a lost cause.

“Bradley.” You can only imagine the emotions he is reading on your face. It would absolutely break your heart if this was some kind of bad joke.

“He’ll never love you like I can.”

“What?” you ask sounding every bit as dazed as you feel.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says shaking his head slightly, huffing out a little laugh at himself, “I got ahead of myself.”

You watch as he resituates himself in the chair, wiping his hands on the front of his slacks before restarting.

“Watching you on those dates has been hell, I don’t want to be jealous of some guy you gave a second glance. I don’t want hold back, not when we can be so much more,” he reaches across the table, taking your hand between his two large ones, “I thought having you as a friend was enough for me, but how am I supposed to sleep at night knowing that I could be the one who makes you happy and then do nothing about it? That I’m the only one who can love you the way you deserve to be loved?”

You’ve always known he’s cared for you, that was unquestionable, but to be loved by Bradley Bradshaw? It was something you’d never let yourself imagine, let alone dared to hope to for. It had been kinder to spare yourself from the heartache that came with hope. But now? With him sitting right here in front of you saying you could have him like this?

Was this how he felt flying in his F-18 every day?

He gets up and rounds the table coming to your side, hooking an ankle around the tapered leg of your chair pulling you out a bit. You’re suddenly very thankful for the probably-too-expensive-and-probably-too-provocative for a first date dress you purchased when you see the way his rich brown eyes turn molten as he gets a glimpse of your exposed thigh.

He settles into a crouch before you, his warm hands seeking out both of yours, “You don’t need Phoenix or anyone else to set you up, because he’ll never love you like I can. Let me show you how good it can be. Let me be it for you, sweet girl.”

The man in front of you is everything you could have ever possibly wanted for yourself. And to be the one who could get to keep him forever? There’s no doubt in your mind, it’s worth everything.

You’re sure you will have to have a more serious conversation about what this means for the two of you, but that can wait for another time when he’s not in front of you with his eyes so earnest. So hopeful. To another time when he’s not wearing his heart on his sleeve as he patiently waits for any kind of response from you.

It would be so easy to lean in and kiss him right now.

So easy to learn what that mustache would feel like against your skin.

To learn how his lips and tongue would feel against your own.

To learn how his mouth would move with yours.

But what’s a couple more hours when you’ve had years to build up to it.

“Well then, Lieutenant. I guess you better show me how it’s done,” you bring your hand up to cup his face, your thumb gently stroking along his cheekbone. “But I’m warning you now, I fully intended to give you as good as I get.”

Being on the receiving end of a Rooster smile was something special, but it had nothing on the beaming grin that Bradley Bradshaw is giving you now.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” he says as he lands a lingering kiss on your cheek before standing and pushing your chair back in for you. “You’ve always known how to keep me on my toes.”

He returns back to his surprisingly comfortable wooden wicker chair, stretching his leg to rest it against yours. When the waitress comes back you both end up picking your meals at random, having been too absorbed with each other to actually bother reading the menu.

You’d barely eaten all day because of the knots in your stomach, and now you were starving. Thankfully, Bradley at least had the commonsense to ask the waitress to pick her favorite dish as a third entrée “for the table”.

It feels the same in many ways, he knows what to say to make you laugh and what to bring up to get you fired up. And you know what questions to ask to keep him talking and how to push his buttons just right.

But it’s also different when he doesn’t bother to hide his knowing smirk every time he catches you looking at his lips. And it’s even better when you don’t bother trying to hide yours when you catch him doing the same.

Afterwards, he takes your hand in his as you slowly make your way to the parking lot, his fingers lacing between your own. He surprises you when he leans against the Bronco, murmuring something about not wanting to let your pretty dress get dirty. His long legs extended wide as an invitation for you to come stand between them, his strong hands stroking the silky material of your dress on your hips as you step closer.

You’ve been ignoring the pull low in your stomach all evening, the tension between you two the most luscious feeling you’ve ever experienced. The combination of his heat, his woodsy smell, the headiness of his gaze on you almost too overwhelming.

Almost.

Your hands settle on his broad chest, playing with the button of his shirt now a bit nervous. Your faces closer than you’ve ever allowed them to be before. If what you’re hearing is the sound of the waves or the roaring of the blood in your ears, you couldn’t say.

You know he is waiting for you to make the first move. You see the moment when he’s about to say something, knowing him the words would be wonderfully reassuring and perfectly Bradley.

Why would you want to talk when his mouth was already waiting like a question. Why would you want to talk when you could learn what it’s like kiss him instead?

So you do.

When your lips meet his for the first time it feels like the sweetest kind of devotion.

bradleybradleybradley

His mustache scratching satisfyingly at the skin of your upper lip. His mouth tasting like the Sidecars he sipped on throughout the night and something that was just fundamentally Bradley.

Your hand moves on its own to stroke the side of his neck, your fingers seeking out the line of the longest scar that adorns his skin there from that night all those years ago.

Your heart is beating wildly in your chest as he licks his lips before bringing his face down to yours again. Your other hand tightly clutching his shirt in anticipation.

He’s always been so in tune with you, so when he tilts your head just right before leaning into the kiss it feels like a homecoming.

thisthisthis

One of Bradley’s hands makes its way up your back, pressing you closer to him as the other bands more securely around your waist. And when his tongue skims your lower lip, you sigh into his waiting mouth thankful for his strong grasp on you.

Nothing your mind could have imagined would have ever come close to the perfection that is Bradley Bradshaw’s mouth moving against yours. Nothing has ever felt so good, so right.

When he pulls away, you’re both over fighting back the smiles that feel like have been permanently fixed on your faces all evening.

“I’m don’t want to call it a night yet,” he tells you, as he brushes the hair back from your face. His smile turning playful, “What do you say, kid? Wanna go get some milkshakes?”

“Depends,” you reply cheekily, “Can I drink it in the Bronco?”

Wrapping both arms around his neck you draw him back in towards you again.

“Anything you want, sweet girl,” he promises against your lips.

The next night at the Hard Deck, you entered the bar with Bradley’s arm draped your shoulders.

His team whooping loudly when you pull him in for a kiss as he handed you a Blue Moon. They’d declared the drinks were on Bradley that night as they’d swarmed you both in celebration. Maverick pulls you aside to give you a warm hug, whispering “I knew you’d get here” in your ear before releasing you.

Now that you had let yourselves cross that line from friends to more, the pair of you are entirely too aware of the other. Never content to be too far away from the other. Your eyes like magnets, each seeking out the other to find them already looking back.

There’s nothing friendly about the way he has his hands on your waist. Nothing neighborly in the way his hands rub your shoulders. Nothing platonic in the way he rests one hand on the back of your neck, his thumb making teasing circles.

And there’s nothing friendly about the way you run your hands through his curls when he’s at the piano. Nothing neighborly in the way you slide your hand into his back pocket. Nothing platonic in the way you rest your hand on his chest, your finger tracing the line of his collarbone.

It has always been so easy with him, even as you explore in this new area of your relationship.

You’d been orbiting around each other all night, when Jake yelled out to heckle you both about indecent exposure, threatening to call his cop friend if Bradley didn’t “get his ass over to the pool table in the next thirty seconds.”

He’d peppered your face with kisses before you’d shooed him away, laughing when you realized he had swiped your beer and had taken it with him.

“So you and Bradshaw,” Natasha states as she settles down next to you.

That makes you smile.

“Yeah, me and Bradley.”

How could you have possibly thought you’d want anyone else other than him? You were a goner from the moment you’d turned and saw him standing there at the restaurant. Your golden boy.

You turn towards her, putting a hand on her arm, “I’m sorry that you didn’t get a fair shot at the bet. I really do appreciate the effort you all went through. I mean, Bradley would have had it in the bag anyways. But still–”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she waves a hand, cutting you off, “We had a team meeting and changed the rules of the bet anyways. I still won, so it’s all good.” Her smile was nothing less than mischievous.

“Wait, what?”

“We could all see from Rooster’s reaction during that disaster of a first date with all the dogs that he was completely hung up on you. We didn’t want to wait for him to figure it out, so we decided to adjust the terms a bit to help him out,” she laughs at your clearly baffled expression. “We reached out to the cringiest people we knew and set you up with them instead. And then took bets on how long it would take Rooster to get his head out of his ass and go get his girl.”

“Oh my god, seriously?” The revelation has you bursting out in laughter.

“Yep, well except for Bob. His date was a genuine accident, bless him. I’ll be honest, I didn’t even bother reaching out to anyone. I was betting on Rooster getting it together before I needed to step in,” she explains while wearing the most self-satisfied smirk on her face.

Of course Natasha Trace had bet on him. On you.

You couldn’t wait to tell Bradley how you had both been so absolutely played by his team.

You loved these people. You loved your life here in San Diego.

“I’d apologize for putting you through all that, but it looks like it worked out well in the end,” she says knowingly nodding her head towards him.

You’re fully watching him now as he bends over the pool table looking amused at something that Hangman says.

Bradley looks up catching your eye and shoots a wink in your direction, a grin taking over his whole face. You already know you’re wearing a matching one.

“I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

Thank you so much for all the love on this one! I’ve loved sharing this journey with you all! Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone!

If you want to know what happens next for these two you can check out my masterlist!

Written as part of @roosterforme’s #Love Is In The Air TGM Fic Challenge!

Song Inspiration Sam Smith’s “Like I Can”.

Thank you Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) as always for being the ultimate hype girl!

Taglist:

@sehnsuchts-trunken @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes @soleilgrec @keyrani @finelytaylored @phantomxoxo @viridianphtalo @chicomonks @artemissunn @hey-assbutt35 @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader @averyhotchner @caatheeriinee07 @rileyanntoinette @lublycho

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #rooster x you #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #love is in the air tgm #like i can tgm

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candiedspit · 1 year

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Banana Daiquiri

It was summertime; hot tango and swedish malt.

I was twenty five, a lonely space cadet with no return mission. I floated through the mist of pristine, magic light. I wore a cocktail dress to the corner store because I could. Artificial diamonds shuddered on my wrist while a thousand hot words licked the walls of my mind every single second. I was very alive most days.

For work, I took care of Gem, a bright seven year old whose favorite color was a carcinogenic green. The kid was mute. And in lieu of a proper schedule–some of the families I’d worked for before treated their children as hostages to time, every hour had a name–I was given the simple task of entertaining Gem until her parents got home from work.

This meant long walks to the playground, afternoon movies, aquariums, library trips. I liked Gem. Her long sheet of blonde hair which ran down to her stomach and flew in the wind. Her penchant for worms and dirt. I could tell she knew more than I did, picked up on the subtle tones of the universe.

Each morning, I picked her up from her house and we headed out. Out to the avenues. Out to run out fingers along the brisk voltage of morning. Out to the world. It was the third week of June. It had been raining on and off for several days. But at last, the skies were clear and the sun was beautiful, dazzling rays falling to the ground. Gem held my hand.

Gem, it’s a wondrous morning, I said as we walked.

I held her backpack on my shoulder.

It’s the kind of morning you could weep over, I continued.

The kind you dream about when you’ve been inside for too long, marinating in all of your perceived misery piss. The kind you didn’t think you’d ever see again. But here it is.

I love the summers most because every horrible thing you did in the winter is gone. Every tantrum. Every snarl. Every shard of glass. Gone, gone, gone.

Eleven blocks.

We walked until we reached Gem’s favorite park, the one with the long, twisted slide and sprinklers and swings. Gem let go of my hand and ran to the swings. I sat down on a bench and drank from my water bottle. After this, we’d go to get lunch. Strawberry ice cream. Soda, sandwiches sliced down the middle. And then maybe we’d saunter down the boardwalk and play some of the games they have there.

I’ve always gotten along well with kids. I think I understand them. The bossa nova of the world, each little thrill and dissapointment. How you can feel gladness singe your fingertips. How the sun shines for the first time every time.

How confusing the grown ups are.

After work, I usually went to my favorite bar or called the man I’m seeing. Or both at once. It depended on how tired I was, how long the day had been. That evening, I went to the bar. On third street, it was a run-down bar that never had more than twenty occupants. I sat at the bar and ordered my usual; a banana daiquiri. The bartend asked how my day was. I said it was fine and left the conversation at that. I watched the small television above his head. A newscast about the bombings in Turkey and gasoline prices. All things that didn’t touch me. The universe only existed as I could see it. I got one more drink, paid and left.

On my walk back home, the skies were bloodied and vicious and beautiful. Clouds ate at one another like twins in the womb. I was wearing a long blue dress. I felt like taking off my skin. I wanted the wind. I wanted everyone to love me. The buildings seemed enormous, metallic titans left to rot in the ground after some fantastic war. I was living in the land of zero, the peace spread across the land like a woman on a bed.

I got home too soon.

✴

Gem stopped speaking at around three years old.

It was January and outside, snow filled the gaps of the city like glue. It dawned upon her parents as syrup spreads across the table–the silence. No babbles through the hallways. No requests for sippy cup. No mama. When her mother would urge her to speak, she would look into her face with her insect green eyes, and then look away. Gem’s pediatrician said she would grow back into speech. Had something happened?

Nothing happened, her mother said. Nothing has happened.

Gem had always concerned her parents. During holidays–out on the white, dense beach in Spain or with her many spritely cousins at Christmas–Gem preferred to play alone. She could never look at the camera when pictures were taken. And she had this–her parents called it a habit–habit of doing a sort of kangaroo hop when she was excited or nervous or anything at all. Sometimes she wringed her fingers in and out of crooked fists.

But the speaking was different. When Gem’s mother told me, she couldn’t stop herself from getting choked up.

It was like we lost her, she said. Whatever stupid hope I had that she was simply an eccentric kid, that I was the idiot for not understanding the way she saw the world, was killed. And replaced with the fact that we had something on our hands we weren’t prepared for.

When they finally got the diagnosis, Gem was five.

Often in these cases, early intervention was key; but also, girls were typically diagnosed later than boys. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. And what mattered was what her parents were going to do next. Therapists moved in and out of the house like business men on a train. Occupational, speech, physical.

But in the summertime, she didn’t have access to therapists. All she had was me and our little ventures into the world. I hoped I was doing good by Gem. That sunflower kid. That cartoon heart. All I could do was try to guide, be her compass in a dark terrain.

I liked living two lives.

One where I filled in the gaps and another where I fell through them.

✴

Sometimes, I have strange thoughts, I told him.

I was in the bed of the man I loved. And I was sure he loved me too. At least, at that moment. He was five years older than I was. But he was fun to be with. I liked spilling out in the dark with him. I liked his giant hands over mine. I liked surprising him.

What kinda thoughts? He asked.

I know what other people are thinking. I know what everything means. There’s an ultraviolet shimmer to the world and I can see through it, I said.

It’s hard to explain, I continued. Happy neons. Dark, frustrated movements. An elevator dropping to the basement. How do you explain a yard to a kid kept in the attic?

You’re a freak, he laughed and kissed my head.

He didn’t understand.

✴

I sat out on his balcony–he was one of those people who had balconies but never used them–at the end of a gigantic, African cigar; one of his favorite pastimes besides television. And me. It tasted like midnight, a rough kind of bark. Ash. I liked letting the smoke out so that it floated above the city like a warning of sorts. Beware, there are people who say they love you and don’t. Beware, there are peep holes even in Heaven. I was high on a pill he’d slipped into my mouth, something small and pink. In combination with the tar and the night air and the fact that I was naked, I felt like a kerosene bomb. I felt like a laughing serpent. A dirty thrill. I began to speak out loud, beneath my breath so that nobody could hear me.

Not anyone besides you.

There aren’t many people like us, I began. Not everyone can see the mess, the vomit and slashes of graffiti and stray dogs and doom, and smile. Not everyone can see that there are fairgrounds in a warzone. Not everyone can touch the music. Not everyone can hear the light from miles away. But we can, Gem. I think we are gods.

I think we are poets.

#my poetry #fiction

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hannahsmusings · 1 year

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Renee

*I barely even had a chance to glance around the room since I was greeting so many people, not having seen any of my friends in so long and so happy to be here, feeling eyes on me but I was used to it, being as successful as I was people recognized me and I learned to ignore it, especially at events like this when it was about my friends and not some business party or gala* *I walk over to the bar finally, already feeling my social battery running out of steam, having taken a red eye here from London last night and having been living off caffeine all day* *I order myself a vodka soda before taking a moment to look around, seeing so many pretty women and wondering which one I’d end up with on my arm tonight but all my thoughts were interrupted when my eyes land on the prettiest woman I’ve seen in a long long time, my jaw nearly dropping at the sight of her* *she was so simple in a charming way and her body language spoke volumes, watching her twirl the straw in her pink fruity cocktail while looking around like she was an imposter, my heart swelling at the sight, her having no idea how alluring and gorgeous she was and that made me want her ten times more* *I was about to make myself known and walk over to her but Lindsey was calling my name, sighing and telling the bartender to send the blonde girl down the line another of whatever drink she was drinking and to make sure all her drinks ended up on my tab, giving the her another glance before taking my drink and walking over to Lindsey, plastering a grin on my face for her even though my thoughts were stuck on the mystery blonde*

*Jade lights up when the bartender walks over, sliding a drink over to the group, her eyes widening when he mentions it was from Renee, whipping her head to the side and seeing me glancing towards the group before disappearing into the crowd, Jade feeling that her moment had finally come, completely unaware since the 3 of them were all drinking the same thing, her eyes wide as she looked towards Jen and Carmen* Oh my god. It’s for me. She remembers me probably from last time! *she was giddy as she sets down her nearly empty glass and picks up the new one, not having a single thought in her head that the drink was for Jen or Carmen, already having this “history” with me so for her it all made sense* I guess if you can’t find me later on, don’t come looking. I’ll be whisked away by Renee finally!

_________________________________________

*talking with Jade I couldn’t help my eyes straying every so often to look at you, everyone that spoke with you seemed to be enamoured by your presence and the power you held, you clearly being well liked or admired and that was something to watch, having never been that way myself and always feeling I was a bit of a wallflower, feeling so shy in this moment as I glance down at my pretty basic dress, tugging at the hem nervously before sighing and sipping my drink, figuring it was pointless to try and get your attention because you wouldn’t look twice at me* *tries to focus on the chatter with the girls but I was in my head, feeling pretty unconfident and undesirable in this moment as I look around at all the stunning women here, wishing I could compete* *looks up as the bartender pushes a drink over, my eyes widening as he says it was from you and immediately stepping back, so convinced it wouldn’t be for me as Jade steps up and takes it, heart feeling like it was sliding down into my stomach as of course it was for Jade, she was tall and model like with perfect skin and green eyes, her being the epitome of classic beauty and it made my stomach sink with disappointment, having never really felt what it was like to be desired* *smiles at Jade but it was weak and didn’t reach my eyes* Congratulations. I’m happy for you. *murmurs, glancing around to look for you again but you were no where to be found, sighing a little as I look down at my own drink, sipping some more with a frown on my face*

#renee plot

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atlantaartisticweddings · 2 years

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Atlanta Wedding Photographers Capture Wedding at Landmark Restaurant

This week the Atlanta wedding photographers at Atlanta Artistic Weddings captured a family wedding at Rays on the River. It was a relatively small wedding with about 75 family and friends. The couple’s names are E-Kat and Bruce.

The day started at the couple’s home where they raise their family and where they got ready for the big day. E-Kat was getting her hair and makeup done at her home while Bruce helped the kids get ready. They have 3 beautiful daughters and the youngest child is a precious boy about 11 years old. The girls had matching green dresses that were cut the same as their moms wedding dress. They had a draped collar with a sheath cut dress. They looked very tasteful and elegant. The groom and their son wore blue blazers and purple striped ties that matched their boutineers.

I arrived first at Rays on the River. The restaurant has been an Atlanta staple for almost 40 years,. premium steak and many types of seafood. It is llocated in Sandy Springs off of Power’s Ferry Road. The elongated restaurant runs parallel to the Chattahooche River. It has outdoor seating and walking areas. Just about every table in the dining area has a scenic view of the river, where you can watch the lazy river flowing by.

When the family arrived there they brought the last of the decorations for the tables and started to put the finishing touches on everything. They were like a well oiled machine putting out favors and decorating the wedding cake with sprigs of light white flowers. They then practiced walking down the aisle with the flower girl who was about 4 years old and did her job with joy and adventure.

Once that was done we took a few photos around the grounds of the restaurant. We talked and got some great photos with the river in the background. It was also the perfect time of year for the leaves. There were burnt orange and yellow leaves sprinkled all over the grounds.

The wedding was a mixture of modern and Bulgarian traditions. The groom stood at the front of the hall with his friend David who is a lawyer and presided over the ceremony. The flower girl did an awesome job paving the walkway with flower petals. The bride came in escorted by her daughters under each arm. The daughters also wore a crown of flowers which was a tip of the hat to Bulgaria where their mom is from. David shared some light hearted antidotes on Bruce’s sense of humor and how they met. The actual ceremony was very brief; he announced them husband and wife and they kissed. Then Bruce, who is Jewish broke the wine glass and the crowd yelled mazel tov!

They then went around the room and greeted their guests. There was a cocktail hour before the first dance. They had a very talented jazz band that played throughout the night. Once 7:30 came around the band leader announced that it was time for the first dance and they were going to have a special guest come up and sing. The 11 year old son came up and sang Ed Sheeran’s song Perfect as his mom and dad did their first dance. He did a great job and everyone was amazed at his talents.

Since everyone was seated they brought out the food. It was as you would imagine, delicious! They brought out salads for everyone then they brought out either large marinated steaks covered in mushroom gravy or salmon. It was definitely a feast for all. As people ate the groom thanked the guests that came from near and far. Then the groom’s brother did a short speech but the real special moment came from the youngest son. He spoke how happy he is having two new sisters and how much his father is in love. It was truly a special moment that tugged at everyone’s heart.

The rest of the night was filled with dancing and cheer. They had a few slow dances as well as the horah which is a Jewish tradition. They also lifted up the bride and groom in chairs and danced around the room. It was a fun filled night that celebrated love and family.

Thanks for checking out this Atlanta wedding photographers blog! I hope you enjoyed the read and that it inspired you with some new ideas. Make sure you keep coming back to our blog to see what the Atlanta wedding photographers at Atlanta Artistic Weddings are up to! If you’d like to contact me go to the contact page and drop me a line at https://www.atlantaartisticweddings.com/contact-atlanta-wedding-photographer. I would love to hear from you!

Thanks again!

#atlantaphotographer #atlantaartsiticweddings #Atlanta wedding photographers #atlanta wedding photographer #family wedding #rays on the river

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letterstotheflre · 3 years

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that’s the thing about illicit affairs

summary: james was never hers to lose.

warnings: CHEATING, age gap (not specified but reader is in her 20s), tiiiny angst?? i don’t think it’s sad lmao, allusions to sex and one miniature sex scene, some food mentions, and a very badly written argument.

word count: 3k (why are they always so long ffs)

a/n: my first james potter fic <3 i love this man so much, sorry for making you the bad guy here. this one’s been sitting in my drafts for a few weeks, and since i’ve been feeling kinda sad i finally got around to edit it. also hedric rights!!

They always meet like this.

The room is dark except for a small sea salt lamp she bought on sale from Target. Her clothes are piling up on the floor, discarded carelessly by her lover, and his are not too far from meeting the same fate.

He is kissing her hungrily as he could never get enough of her. His hands travel all over her back while she unbuttons his shirt, their lips never parting. He moves her to her bed, the sheets a pale green that reminds him of—

No. He closes his eyes tightly, pretends the green is actually blue like the lacy bralette that covers her breasts and moves his lips down to her jaw. He sucks and nips and bites, letting her moans echo freely between the four walls that make their little sanctuary.

Her hands quickly undo his belt and stroke him lightly through the fabric of his boxers. He groans against the junction of her neck, the skin softer than anything he’s touched in years.

He pushes her down on the bed, cupping her face while he looks at her properly, noting the tangled hair caused by his fingers. Her lips are puffy and shiny, his kisses being the perpetrator of their current state. He waits for her to say something, to give him a sign that this is okay.

(It’s not okay, and they both know it. It’ll never be okay.)

She nods her head, and he kneels in front of her, pushing her legs wide open before he dives in.

—

She is laying on her bed, the sheets covering her body as she watches him try to fix up his hair in front of the mirror on her makeshift vanity.

“Make sure no one sees you leave,” she says, “and put—”

“Put my hood up, I know,” he finishes the sentence for her. It’s not the first time they do this dance.

“Sirius and Remus are with Harry at home. I told them I was going for a run, so they won’t say anything if I show up all sweaty,” he adds, trying to fill the awkward silence.

She just nods her head, fingers playing with a loose thread on the edge of the sheet, pulling it a bit more every time she twists her index finger. He steps forward, then sits on her bed and traces her cheekbone with his knuckles. “You know I care about you, right?” he asks.

Her heart clenches, a heavy weight pressing down on her chest that makes it hard to breathe for a second. She lowers her eyes, refusing to stare at those hazel irises that started everything. “I know, James,” she assures quietly, looking at a picture of her and Harry that’s stuck to the wall just behind him.

James brushes back some stray hairs that are still stuck to her forehead, then presses a small kiss on the slightly sweaty skin. He gives her a tentative smile before heading to the door, and she only looks in his direction when she hears the click of the door.

(He might care, but not enough.)

—

Sundays are always a slightly awkward affair at first.

Both of their families have been friends for years, getting together every Sunday for lunch at the Potter’s. James and Sirius always man the grill with her dad, all of them wearing those corny ‘kiss the chef!’ aprons. Her mother helps Lily make the salads in the kitchen while they gossip with Remus, who steals a few tomatoes when they aren’t looking. Now that it’s summer, she and Harry splash each other in the pool instead of catching up in his room.

It’s always strange seeing James in the light of day, pretending that this is the only version of him she knows: the version of him that is a friend, a father, a husband.

But she knows the other version of him: the one that has her on her knees begging for a taste of him, the one that grips her hair while he pounds into her from behind, the one that lets his tongue explore places of her no one else has. The version of him that kisses her forehead and plays with her fingers while their bodies are tangled together under the sheets. The version of him that kisses her as if she were the only one made for him.

(She isn’t.)

They are sitting around the table eating. Sirius is laughing about something with his arm around Remus’s shoulders, his bark of laughter echoing across the garden. Her mother’s shoulders shake as Lily rolls her eyes in amusement. James and her father have gone back to the grill to bring everyone their second round of burgers, and she can hear her father complaining about something from work.

“Here y’go, kid,” says James as he places the plate in front of her before ruffling her hair. She tenses up for a second before relaxing, muttering a small “thank you” before reaching for the ketchup.

She hates that nickname. It’s so impersonal, keeps a distance between them that truly doesn’t exist. As if he isn’t the only person that can make her vision whiten and the colours of her room hazy while she clutches his shoulders. As if he isn’t the only person who can pull so many different sounds from her vocal cords, sounds he knows no one else has ever heard before because he is the only one who can create them.

She can feel Sirius’s eyes on her as she stretches one arm, so she hesitantly glances at him. He raises an eyebrow, eyes switching back and forth between James and her, and she can see the cogs turning in his mind.

She gulps anxiously, dismissing him with a wave of her hand and goes back to eating.

—

James’s moans are loud as he gathers her hair in a makeshift ponytail. His cock is buried in her throat, and he watches as she gags for a second before relaxing her throat.

She’s taking him so deep that her nose nuzzles his pubic hair, the musky scent of James filling her nose as she breathes deeply through it. She starts moving her head up and down, swirling her tongue around the tip every time she rises.

He is a mess above her, needy whines and wanton moans leaving his mouth. His hips thrust up softly, slowly fucking her mouth, and he relishes in the small choking sounds she makes. His head rolls back as he groans, “That’s it, baby, so good to me.”

She winces at the name and pulls away from him. “Don’t call me that,” she mutters, but her hands never stop stroking him. She takes him back into her mouth and starts sucking with a newfound fervour, his voice echoing inside her head as she tries to make him forget about her.

(She tries to forget too.)

—

Honey rays filter through her window.

They are both laying on her bed, James on his stomach while she refills the glasses with some cheap wine she got from the store. He looks at the tiny purple splotches on her neck and the red fingerprints on her hips, then smirks proudly. When she turns, she smiles at him softly.

There’s a summer breeze that ruffles her curtains, and he can hear some teenagers laughing as they walk down the street over the music that plays from her speaker.

She places her glass on her nightstand, her nipples brushing his naked back as she leans over him. She lays down on her side, her fingertips softly drawing shapes on his skin. It takes him a moment to realize they are not random shapes but letters.

Her name, written over his scattered freckles and connecting his moles with cursive loops.

He takes her hand and kisses it, slightly chapped lips pressing against her open palm. Then he kisses her lips, still bitterly sweet with grapes, as his tongue moves languidly against hers while he pulls her by the hand on top of him.

It feels like a distant memory. It feels like a dream.

—

The cacophony of different voices singing “Happy Birthday” rings in her ears.

Harry is at the front of the table, an adorable blush dusting his cheeks at the attention. On either side of him are James and Lily, smiles wide as they watch their son blow the candles. Cedric is behind him, hands on his shoulders, and he leans forward to give him a quick peck on the cheek.

She sings and claps, whooping with Sirius when Harry blows the last candle. She eats cake and drinks the pretty cocktails Lily ordered. She smiles and laughs, pretends she couldn’t see the way the candles made the golden band on James’s ring finger beam like the sun.

She pretends she doesn’t see the way James holds Lily’s waist before kissing her. She pretends she can’t see them dancing slowly to a song Remus put on the Spotify playlist as a joke.

She pretends she can’t hear his footsteps following her when she goes to the bathroom. She feigns disinterest when he grabs her wrist and pulls her towards a deserted corridor.

But she can’t ignore the butterflies in her stomach when he kisses her, the thrumming in her veins when he pushes one leg between her thighs, nor the pleasure-filled gasps and moans that leave her mouth when he helps her roll her hips along his covered thigh.

It’s thrilling; they’ve never done something like this in public, much less in such proximity to friends and family.

(In such proximity to her.)

Even though she knows it shouldn’t, it gives her a sense of victory. Because he is here with her now: he is kissing her, making her moan, and whispering dirty things in her ear.

A faraway call of his name breaks the spell they’re under. They pull away hastily; she fixes her dress while James makes sure there are no lipstick stains on his face. The footsteps are getting closer, heels hitting the floorboards at the same rhythm as their rapid beating hearts.

It’s Sirius.

James almost breathes a sigh of relief, but she remains tensed up. Sirius looks between them, the same look he had that Sunday all those weeks ago on his face, and she feels bile rising in her throat.

“Lily’s looking for you,” he says, his thumb pointing back over his shoulder towards the reception where everyone’s gathered.

“Right,” says James. “Better go see what she needs. You do not want to see an angry drunk Lily.” He laughs, almost oblivious to the awkward tension between his two friends. He goes back to Lily, leaving her leaning against the wall and Sirius standing in the middle of the hallway.

Sirius looks at her, and even though his mind already knows, he refuses to believe it. “I didn’t know where the bathroom was,” she offers as an explanation. It’s a flimsy excuse, she knows that, but it’s the best she can do under this kind of pressure.

“Right,” he whispers with a short nod, then follows James.

She stays rooted to her spot, lips tingling with the ghost of James touch and a guilty mind.

—

Hours later, she clings to a pillow as she lays on her bed alone. The same pillow James was resting on less than twelve hours ago.

She breathes in deeply, trying to catch any scent of him she can, but there’s only the scent of her fabric softener.

There’s no James. No citrus shampoo or woodsy cologne nor salty air from the beach near his house. Because he never wears any cologne when he comes to her, ensuring that there’s no trace of him once he leaves.

Like he doesn’t even exist.

—

It ends in a parking lot a month later.

She was waiting for Luna to arrive at the mall but ended up asking for a rain check when James texted her, saying they needed to talk.

‘Meet me behind the mall’, she texts him.

She walks to the back of the building and waits for his red car to show up. She already knows where this conversation is going to go, and her heart shatters at the thought of saying goodbye to him.

She raises her head when she hears a honk in front of her, and she gets in while whispering a small “hey”. He doesn’t start the car again, just settles for turning the ignition key off. She looks at the families leaving the mall through the tinted window, refusing to look at him, as her knee bounces up and down anxiously.

The silence is heavy, and she suddenly feels cold in the August heat.

James takes a deep breath, “We can’t keep doing this.”

She can’t help the snarky comment. “That’s not what you were saying yesterday while you had your fingers buried inside me.” He looks at her unimpressed, and she rolls her eyes.

“It’s wrong,” he says— as if she doesn’t already know that. “C’mon, baby, don’t make this harder than it has to—”

“I told you not to call me that!” she raises her voice, and the car gets silent again. She hates the tears that gather in her eyes, hates that she cares so much about him and their stupid game, but she couldn’t help it. Not when he whispered so many sweet nothings in her ears and caressed her skin so softly, almost afraid to break him if he was too rough.

(Not that he cared about that when he stretched her wide open and thrust so hard into her that the bed frame banged against the wall.)

“You can’t just show up here and tell me it’s over like you weren’t the one that came to me first,” she jeers, and she can see the tick of his jaw as he clenches it. Good, she thinks, make him angry.

“Don’t just blame me. You didn’t say ‘no’ once.” He grounds out, “In fact, I can recall you were begging me to fuck you against the wall.”

Her cheeks turn into a small fire, a slight feeling of shame overcoming her. “Oh, like you were any better!” she exclaims. “‘Been thinking about you for months.’ ‘You have no idea the things you do to me.’ ‘No one can suck my cock like you.’ ‘I care about you!’” She deepens her voice to mock him.

James opens his mouth to keep the ball rolling, and she wants him to do it because it meant that the fight was still on, that they wouldn’t have to end this. Instead, he takes a deep breath to calm himself. “I’m telling you now it’s over. Stop acting like a kid who didn’t get her Christmas present,” he says, knowing exactly what he is doing with those words.

“I’m not a kid,” she snaps, her eyes fighting back angry teats at his dismissal. “Then stop acting like one,” he shrugs.

Her hands turn into fists, nails digging themselves into her palms as she tries to keep her anger at bay. “Do you know how much of myself I gave to you? How many plans with my friends have I cancelled in case you called? How many guys I stopped seeing because they weren’t you?” she rants, her voice increasing in volume as she lets her frustration take over. Then, she pauses. “You’ve ruined me, James.”

Her voice is so pained that it makes his heart clench, and he lowers his head, refusing to look at her. He knows, God, he knows what he’s done, but he couldn’t help it. He had been so lonely with Lily spending so much time at the hospital, and then there she was with her caring and understanding nature. With her adorable laughs and those touches that were so addictive, a mercurial high that gave him the lowest lows whenever he tried to stop.

He keeps his mouth shut; there’s nothing left to say anyway, and it’s better for her to hate him rather than anything else. “You are not going to say anything?” It’s meek, vulnerable, and she wants to slap herself for acting this way. She knew it would never last, that he would always choose her.

He was never hers to lose, so why is she still fighting?

She nods her head in surrender, biting her lip to stop herself from sobbing. The anger now gave way to sadness, “I can’t believe I let you make a fool of me.” Her voice is hoarse, a result of the lump in her throat that prevents her from swallowing comfortably.

She gets out of the car and slams the door shut, then leaves the parking lot, leaving him behind. She keeps walking, fingers gripping the straps of her bag until she reaches an empty street.

The golden sun is ready to dip on the horizon, and she can hear James’s car speeding behind her.

—

She doesn’t let the tears fall until she’s inside her apartment.

The moment she closed the door, she crumbled to her knees, loud sobs falling from her mouth and fat tears rolling down her cheeks. It takes her a moment to gather enough strength to walk to her room.

She cries and cries, buries her face in her pillows and starts sobbing even harder because she can smell him. The salty scent and citrus shampoo finally embedded themselves in the fabric, and she can’t believe that after all those days she craved to feel him close to her, he chooses now to leave a trace behind.

She cries for hours until her eyes are puffy and red, and snot comes out of her nose. Her chest heaves with short breaths that don’t really fill her lungs as she clings to that damn pillow before throwing it across the room. She can’t believe it ended like this: with her completely broken for anyone else while James gets to go back to his life and act like nothing ever happened.

Yet she knows that if she had to choose, she would do it all over again because if she had to choose someone to be her ruination, she would choose James Potter a million times.

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c-e-d-dreamer · 2 years

Note

What about some more nessian angst with More Than This, please??

*When he lays you down, I might just die inside / It just don't feel right /'Cause I can love you more than this*

"Cause I can love you more than Stan...." Thanks so much for sending! What a lovely, but sad song, and what a hopefully lovely but painful drabble I have written. It hurts so good! I hope you enjoy :)

When he lays you down, I might just die inside. It just don’t feel right ‘cause I can love you more than this.

Summer has always been Cassian's favorite season. There's just something about the sun, the heat, the fun that comes along with those blissful three months. He looks forward to it every year, to spending the days in his swim trunks, soaking up the rays and wasting the hours away at the beach. His toes buried in the sand, a cold drink in his hand? Nothing can beat it.

But even more so Cassian looks forward to seeing her this summer.

The Archerons have owned the beach house next door to his own family's for as long as Cassian can remember, and that meant those summer months were always spent with his brothers and the Archeron sisters. Cassian still remembers the sand castle building contests he'd have with Feyre when they were kids, the nights they all rode their bikes into town for ice cream when they were preteens.

Now that they're all in college, many things haven't changed, and yet at the same time so many things have.

In all honesty, it had all started last summer. After that first night drinking and catching up around a bonfire, Rhys had made a comment, a question really, asking his brothers if they'd noticed how Feyre had looked. Rhys had of course tried to be casual about it, put on an air of fake nonchalance, but Cassian and Azriel had seen right through it. It was less than a week later that Rhys and Feyre were sneaking off just the two of them, making moon eyes whenever they were together.

Cassian hadn't really understood it at the time. After all, he'd always seen Feyre as his unofficial little sister. But that last night of the summer had been the fireworks show. Cassian had tried to make cocktails for everyone to enjoy, and instead he had ended up making a mess of the kitchen. And of Nesta.

Margarita mix, ice, and tequila had gone everywhere, staining his tee and Nesta’s dress. They had gotten into a screaming match after that, Nesta sneering at him and Cassian pushing her buttons right back, until they were in each other’s faces. The tension was so palpable that Cassian could feel it prickling along his skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake despite the August heat.

By the time they had made it down to the beach, the fireworks show had already started. Nesta had turned to him, her face annoyed, but whatever she said, Cassian hadn’t heard. He’d been too caught up in the way the fireworks lit up behind Nesta’s head like a halo, in the way the reds and greens and golds of them painted across Nesta’s face and reflected in her blue-gray gaze.

And in that moment, Cassian had finally understood.

He’d been too chicken shit to say anything at the time. It was the last day of summer after all. But now… Cassian isn’t going to let his nerves win this summer. He’s thought of Nesta all through the fall and winter and spring. The way her hair curls and hangs around her face after a dip in the ocean. The way her skin gets that pink tinge, freckles standing out starker, after a day in the sun. The way she bites her lip while she reads. The way she’ll roll her eyes at him or try and bite back a laugh. And gods, her laugh.

Every thought the whole year has been Nesta Nesta Nesta until an ache so firm settled in Cassian’s chest that he was pretty sure the feeling was engraved in his bones. It doesn’t help that Cassian can barely even look at another woman now. He may be well and truly fucked, but this summer, he’s going to do something about it.

The house looks just as it always does when Cassian and his brothers pull up, but a glance next door finds the house still dark, the Archerons having yet to arrive. Cassian helps his brothers to unload everything, and then they just lounge around the living room. Rhys spends the whole time furiously texting away on his phone, but it’s not long before his brother is practically leaping to his feet and heading toward the front door. Cassian and Azriel share a knowing look, but they stand up as well, following behind their youngest brother.

Cassian takes a moment to pause in front of the mirror in the house’s entryway. He runs his fingers through his hair, making sure his curls fall how he wants them, and tugs on his tee so it doesn’t look wrinkled. One last deep breath and he heads outside, eyes sweeping over where everyone is hugging and greeting one another. He watches Nesta hug Azriel and then she’s stepping back, that gaze on him. In that moment, he swears his heart stops beating.

“Cassian! It’s good to see you again,” Nesta greets, stepping over to him and wrapping her arms around him in a hug.

Cassian swallows hard, tries desperately to keep his face in check, as he wraps his arms around Nesta. He prays she can’t hear the way his heart thunders between his ribs, threatening to break free and right into her waiting hands, but it’s hard to care too much when he’s holding her like this, when he finally has her secure in his arms. He presses his face to the crown of her head, taking in the lavender scent of her shampoo.

An awkward throat clear has Cassian raising his head. He finds a redheaded man standing just over Nesta’s shoulder, watching them with curious eyes. Nesta steps back from Cassian’s embrace and turns toward the man, the smile that blooms across her face leaving Cassian’s stomach sinking.

“And this is Eris,” Nesta explains, taking the man’s hand and linking their fingers. “My boyfriend. He’ll be staying with us for the first few weeks of summer.”

Cassian doesn’t hear anything after that. He doesn’t hear anything at all other than the ringing in his ears, the clanging of Nesta’s words as they ricochet around his brain. Her boyfriend. She has a boyfriend now. A boyfriend that is most definitely not him.

The rest of the day goes by in a blur. Cassian goes through the motions as if on autopilot, but all he can focus on is Nesta and Eris, watching them hold hands as they all walk down to the beach, watching Eris sling an arm around Nesta as they sit pressed together on a blanket, as he whispers something in Nesta’s ear that makes her laugh. Cassian feels like he’s going to be sick.

Cassian’s never been more thankful than when they finally decide to call it a night. Usually, he’s the one that wants to keep the party going, but for once, he’s desperate for the sanctuary of his bedroom. Once behind the safety of a closed door, he finally lets those emotions flood out of him, giving his dresser a hard kick in frustration. At least the throb in his foot is a welcome reprieve.

How could he be so stupid? He should have said something last summer. Hell, he should have said something in the fall. He’s had Nesta’s number for years now, and yet he thought—

It clearly doesn’t matter what Cassian thought, what grand plans he might have imagined for this summer. Cassian lets out a scoff and gives his dresser another kick, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He counts to five in his head and takes a deep breath, going over to his window to open it up and let some air into the room.

It’s then that Cassian notices that Nesta’s bedroom light is on. She has her curtains drawn, but Cassian can still see the shadows, the silhouette of her and who he assumes must be Eris. He watches as Eris steps into her space, wrapping his arms around her waist, and when Eris walks her backward and out of view, Cassian has to turn away. He feels like he’s dying inside. There’s no other way to describe the feeling that claws at his chest, squeezing his heart until it physically hurts and Cassian has to press a hand against his sternum.

He wonders if Nesta loves Eris. If Eris loves her. Because Cassian sure as fuck does, and he can’t fight down the urge to march next door and tell her. To tell her exactly how he feels, every single thing he loves about her, how she she’s the only thing he ever thinks about.

To tell her that he could love her more.

But he knows that it’s not his place, that that’s a fool’s dream. So instead, Cassian climbs into his bed, shuts off his light, and prays for the first time ever that summer goes by quickly.

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #nesta x cassian #my fic #can you guys tell I binge watched the Summer I Turned Pretty?

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enthusiasticharry · 4 years

Text

Lonely this Christmas

summary: you and Harry broke up earlier in the year, but at Columbia’s Christmas party you see each other again, and you both realise just how much you miss each other

author's note: ahhhh i don’t think i've ever been so excited to post one of my works as i am this one and i hope you all enjoy my baby. the reader in this is musician!yn and i have so many other ideas for the little story line, so if you'd like to hear them, please let me know!

word count: 11k of baso angst, really fluffy fluff and some of the best smut I think i’ve ever written. there’s deepthroating... face-sitting... really just the whole shebang.

masterlist | please speak to me about LTC here!

You truly believed that Christmas was the best time of the year.

You loved everything about the festive time of year. From decorating the house, to listening to the music. From spending time with your family, to cosying up on the sofa and watching Christmas films. It was a special time of year, where everyone seemed to relax and walk around with joyous looks on their faces because no matter the year they’d have, it was nearly over and it’s finally time to celebrate the best aspects of the time that had passed.

You found yourself thankful for the year, but also thankful that it was over. This year had been one of the best, but also one of the worst years of your life. The thing that caused the year to not be the best that it could was the split you had with your long-term boyfriend. It was messy, and absolutely heartbreaking on your side and because it was such a big part of the year, it became one of the memories that you wished to ignore but you found yourself struggling too. On a brighter side, you had won your first Brit award this year for Best New Artist. It was a turning point in your career, for certain.

One thing that you’ve never enjoyed about Christmas is parties. You would much rather stay within the walls of your own house and spend your evenings alone, but being in the industry that you are it becomes a little harder. The Columbia Christmas Party happen’s every year, but this was you first year signed to the Record Label, so the first year you had been invited. You were shocked to be invited, but found yourself to be excited and dreading the experience all at once.

The thing that you found yourself thinking and worrying about the most was what you were going to wear. You wanted to impress everyone there, since you had found this new stardom for yourself and you had created this name for yourself which you hadn’t had before. After consulting with your stylist, you settled on a custom Gucci dress that was made for you to wear specifically to this event. The dress itself was a Christmas-green velvet material, which landed to about your mid-thigh with a square neckline. Attached to the square straps of the neckline, were tulle sleeves of the same colour that bunched at your wrists. It hugged your curves perfectly and once you’d added your black scrappy heels you really felt beautiful. Your natural features are accentuated, and you, for the first time in a long time, feel beautiful within your own skin.

That all changed the second you walked into the party.

You felt as though all eyes were on you, as though everyone was watching every step that you took to see what you’d do. It made you feel uncomfortable and immediately feel as though the dress you are wearing wasn’t right, it was too short and you needed to cover up. You were maybe 98% certain that they weren’t thinking about what you were wearing, but more so who you’ve just clocked eyes with.

You knew he was going to be here, and you had prepared yourself for the inevitable, but seeing him stood there completely changed everything that you had prepared for. You both were signed to the same record label, years after the two of you had met though, so it was no surprise that he was sat at one of the tables with a group of people around him as he spoke and laughed at what they were all taking about.

You tried to ignore the pinch within your heart, but it was hard. You weren’t the one who broke it off, and if things had gone according to your plan, you would still be together right now.

You had met Harry a few years ago, when you had first moved to London and you were bar and pub hopping, singing and hoping that you’d somehow stumble upon someone who could help you start your career. It was completely by accident that you both had met, and looking back at it quite embarrassing on your part. You were in the middle of your set when he walked in, as well as Mitch and Sarah, but you hadn’t seen them at that point. You had recently learnt how to play Sign of the Times on the piano and you had purposely brought your small keyboard out with you so you could play the song. Looking back on it, you probably wouldn’t have sung the song if you did know that he was there, but you didn’t know so you sung it. It was a little shaky at the start due to your nerves about playing the song for the first time out of the comfort of your room but you quickly found your groove, and you finished strong. Harry had later told you that, after a little bit of teasing from Mitch and Sarah, he knew that from how in awe he was of you he just had to speak to you. He walked up to you whilst you were in the middle of throwing your celebratory shot back that you always take after finishing your set and the first thing you ever said to him was, “Fuck!”

You always thought that would be a story you’d be able to tell your grandchildren, and you both had even spoken about it, but it just hadn’t worked out.

He seemed okay, which you were happy about. His new album had just come out, and you don’t think you’ve ever cried at a record as you did at that one. You knew it was about you, it was hard not to. All of the little hints that he left throughout his songs would blow over anyone else head, but you knew the true meaning of them and you think that’s one of the reasons you found it so emotional. He was smiling as he spoke to the people, briefly taking sips of his drink every now and then, which was only water so you wondered whether he’d drove there. You both would be flying home soon, but this would be the first time in three years that you’d be flying home alone.

To stop yourself from crying, you quickly make you way over to the bar. After running your eyes over the cocktail menu, your eyes immediately pricked at the sight of one, and you could stop the words as they left your lips: “A cherry bomb fizz please.”

You watched as the bartender added a cherry and some maraschino liqueur, before topping the drink off with Champagne. The drink was quite sour, but you quite liked it. It caused your lips to purse and eyebrows to widen, in a good way you must add.

“Could never handle your alcohol, could you?”

You could feel him before you heard him, but you didn’t want to turn around. Why he felt it okay to come up and talk to you were unsure about, but at the same time you had been hoping that he would. Why you were hoping that he would you were also unsure about, but you’re certain it had something to do with the fact that you weren’t quite over him.

“I think you’re mistaken.” You say, taking another sip of your drink, “You were the one who could never handle your alcohol. And this is just sour.”

He hums, as though he isn’t believing a word that you say, “If you say so, love.”

“Love?” You say, raising your eyebrow at him whilst throwing back the rest of your drink, “Thought those days were well over.”

“Force of habit, ‘suppose.” He shrugs, “I have a few of them when it comes to you.”

“You grew out of them.” I shrug, “Can’t remember the last time you called me love whilst we were together.”

He drops his eyes to the counter, and you know you’ve done what you’re supposed to. This is the first time you’ve spoken to since you broke up, and you can’t believe that it’s at a Christmas party of all places. He also had the audacity to call you love, something that you couldn’t believe he had the balls to do. The last few months of your relationship you were lucky if he even looked at you, and here he now was calling you love as though it’s totally okay to do so.

“I’ll always call you love.” He says, lifting his eyes up from the counter to look at you once more, “I’ll always care about you.”

“Where was this five months ago?” You ask, unable to stop yourself.

Your break up, in your opinion, came out of nowhere. You knew something had changed in your relationship, since he hardy had the time for you at the end of your time together. He’d get up in the morning and wouldn’t touch, or even kiss you. Then, when he’d come home it would be the exact same thing, he’d slip into bed and to stop yourself from feeling as though you were going to cry, you’d pretend you were asleep and hope that you’d actually fall asleep. He never told you a reason for breaking up with you, apart from that he needed space and that he couldn’t be with you. That was probably the thing that hurt you the most. He broke up with you, but you never really had a real reason why.

“I just needed to leave.” He says, “That was my main focus.”

You try to ignore your heart breaking all over again but it’s hard to, when it’s the only thing you can think about.

“Why now?” You say, “Why are you doing this now?”

“YN—”

You shake your head, “I don’t think I want to hear it. I’m going to go.”

“Don’t—”

“—YN!” You feel an arm thrown around your shoulder, one that you immediately realise is Jeff once you register his voice and his face once you turn to him, “I haven’t seen you in months! How are you?”

You can immediately tell that he’s drunk. From the slight slurring of his words, to the smell of alcohol on his breath as he speaks. You’re just as shocked to see him as he is to see you.

“I’m good, Jeff, thanks.” You smile, at him, trying to push the conversation you’ve just had with his friend out of your mind, “How are you?”

“I’m drunk.” He laughs, squeezing your shoulder slightly, “But! I’s nice to see you two together again!”

The whole ignoring the situation doesn’t quite go to plan. Once he’s said those words you immediately draw your eyes towards Harry. You’ve never wanted to leave a conversation as much as you did this one. You look at Harry, but he isn’t looking at you.

He gasps, “You should come over to the table! We’re all here and it’ll just be like old times.”

“I couldn’t possibly. . .” You shake your head.

“You can!” He says, “Come on, I won’t take no for an answer! And H, hurry up with those drinks.”

Jeff walks you away from the bar and towards the table that you noticed earlier when you noticed Harry for the first time this evening. Glenne, Mitch and Sarah are there, as well as Kid and a few other producers that you recognise from working on Harry’s album, as well as a few songs from yours also. You knew that just because you and Harry broke up you couldn’t expect the friendships that had formed because of you two to just stop altogether.

“YN!” There’s a course of cheers and Sarah’s the first to stand up and wrap her arms around you. Out of everyone, Sarah was the person who you were closest with out of Harry’s band. She had joined Harry’s band after you and Harry had been dating for a year or so when Sarah joined the band, and you two instantly clicked and became the closest of friends. You had spoken a few times with her since you had broke up, but nothing compared to what you used to. You weren’t surprised though, she was Harry’s drummer first and your friend after — or that’s what you told yourself to make you feel slightly better.

“Hi.” You smile, dropping down into the spare seat next to Sarah. Words are thrown around the table of glee that you’re there, as well as questions as to why you haven’t been in contact. You know they’re drunk, and you suspect that is why they’re saying all of the things they are. You were quick to fall out of the conversation as it moved onto the show that they did the day prior to celebrate the release of Harry’s album. You suppose the reason your feelings were so heightened today was due to your hearing the album for the first time yesterday and then replaying it today.

It was completely different to Harry Styles but still so Harry. You hated how his music made your feel, the sad and the happy ones, as well as all in between. Harry returned to the table shorty after clutching drinks in his hands, and under his arms. Why he didn’t just make two trips, you would never know, but it’s lucky that all the drinks made it without any spillages.

“We were just talking about yesterday.” Glenne says, taking a sip of her drink as she does before turning towards you, “Have you heard the album, YN?”

“You don’t have too—” Harry turns to your briefly.

“I have.” You nod, “It’s good, a masterpiece even. You should be proud of it, H.”

You can see his shoulder tense, and from knowing him as well as you do, you wouldn’t be surprised if his heart just sunk to the bottom of his stomach. If you’ve listened to the album, it means that you’ve heard the song that Harry hoped you hadn’t.

“What would you say is your favourite?”

You look directly at him as you say the next words, and you hope he listens to them, “Probably Cherry.”

The other’s carry on talking as though you hadn’t said anything at all, but Harry doesn’t open his mouth again. He doesn’t stop looking at you though, and the way you look gorgeously defeated. A part of him wondered whether he was the one who caused you to be this way. About a month ago he asked some producers he knew that were working on your album with you how you are, and they said that you just seemed sad. It broke him to hear those words, just the words he had said to you all those months ago had broken you. Out of the blue, probably not but due to you not paying any attention, the group all move in, including you and Harry to have a reminiscent group photo.

He does open his mouth again when the group disperse to the dance floor, leaving the two of you all alone at the table.

“I’m sorry.”

You don’t lift your eyes up from the end of the table cloth you’re messing with, an exasperated laugh leaving your lips, “What for? Breaking up with me? Taking everything from me? Or, I don’t know, using that in your song?”

“I thought you wouldn’t mind.”

“You thought I wouldn’t mind.” You shake your head, completely baffled at his words, “Why would you think that? I trusted you with that, and now it’s on the end of one of your songs.”

“I’m sorry about everything, but especially that.” He says, and you can tell he’s being genuine with the look in his eyes. He looks as though he’s about to cry.

“Why did you do it?” I asks, “You could’ve asked me. I would’ve said yes, I swear to you.”

“I was nervous.” He says, “We didn’t leave on the best of terms, and I felt as though asking would’ve have been the best.”

“So you decided to do it anyway?”

“Will you forgive me, please?” He asks, and you can tell his voice is about to break, “Please.”

“That’s it, Harry.” You say, “I don’t think I can.”

The next morning you awake with a slight hangover, which wasn’t surprising because once you’d left quickly after saying your last words to Harry, and opened a bottle of vodka that you had in your cupboard. That bottle now sits on your bedside table, three-quarters of it drunk and the cause of your hangover. You were thankful that you hadn’t gotten too drunk before you left the party, due to the wraths of paparazzi that were there as you left. You remember leaving with your head down, ignoring their calls and questions, as well as their their cameras flashed at you. You had gotten into your car, your driver had smiled at you and the second the car started moving away from the club you found yourself unable to stop the tears that streamed down your face.

This wasn’t the first time that you’d done this since you’ve broken up with Harry, but this was certainly the worse you’ve felt since you’ve done so. Your head had its own heartbeat, and you felt as though your were stable on your feet as you trudged towards the kitchen to have some orange juice, your remedy for your hangovers to say the least. It was always something that Harry thought ahead about when you were together. If he knew that the two of you were going out he’d always stock up the fridge. The amounts of time since that you’ve gotten drunk and not had any orange juice within the house is quite atrocious and he knew from experience that they never ended well.

You drink your first glass of the drink quickly, and pour your second one before making you way back into your bedroom. Due to the amount of time you spent in LA, you had purchased your second apartment here, your first being in London. It wasn’t the nicest ever, but it was good enough for you when you were here, and something that you were thankful to have when you woke up from nights like these.

You fall back down upon your bed and the first you think you pick up is your phone, shocked at the thousands of notifications your found on it. You’re still slightly asleep so you rub your eyes a few times before clicking upon the instagram app. The thousands of notifications are dm’s and comments upon your photos. After clicking through the notifications, you find the culprit sat with a lovely love heart emoji on Glenne’s story.

At some point that morning, probably whilst you were growing your sorrows away with vodka, she had posted the photo of you all on her story with the caption ‘the band’s back together,’ a heart emoji and tagged you in it. All the messages were asking whether you and Harry were back together again, not because you’d ever gone public with your relationship, but Harry had gone public with your breakup in his interview with the Rolling Stones and with Zane Lowe. He was very respectful in the way that he spoke about it, which was all you ask for. You hadn’t actively gone out to watch and read what he was saying, but your manager had warned you about them before you had done some interviews and you were curious to say the least what they were about.

In the photo you could tell that you and Harry were the only ones who were sober. Everyone else had drunken grins on their faces whilst you and Harry, to say the least, had very uncomfortable smiles across both of your lips. It annoyed you slightly that the two of you couldn’t even be in the same place anymore without having messages upon messages about whether or not you’re back together. Anyone with a brain could see that you certainly weren’t just by the expression on both of your faces.

You weren’t annoyed, or angry that the photo had been posted because you wouldn’t have taken the photo if you didn’t want it to be posted, but you did take the photo. You were always taking photos together before the breakup, and photo booths were you speciality. It’s another thing that you had hardly done since the breakup, so it was nice to see the photo but deep down a part of you wished that it hadn’t have been taken.

It’s all over all of the social media’s, and you decide that it’s probably best if you just put your phone down. You’re about place it on your bedside table when a notification pops up on the top of your screen, and without thinking, you tap on it, sending you straight to the messages app and to who had sent you the message.

Harry: YN?

Why he was sending you a message in the first place, you had no idea. Why he was messaging your so early in the morning was also something that confused you even more.

Harry: I know you’re reading this.

Harry: Your read receipts are on.

You curse yourself for being so click-happy when you see a notification, and more so for having your read receipts on because you know you can remove them but you don’t quite know how to. You contemplate for a few seconds what to say in your drunken, tired haze, before typing out the message:

YN: Can I help you?

His reply comes in a few seconds later.

Harry: Are you free?

YN: Why?

Harry: Meet me at Beachwood. Usual time.

YN: Why should I?

Harry: Just be there. Please.

YN: I will.

When you walk down the pavement towards the Beachwood Cafe, its as though you’re doing so without actually thinking about it. When you and Harry were together — this was your place. You can’t even remember the amount of dates the two of you have had here, tucked away in the corner whilst the music played, chatting away endlessly about things that popped into each of your minds. It got to the point that when you two were free, and managed to get to go, you had been that much that the waitresses knew your order by memory. The first time they had done it, you remember the way you both smiled sheepishly at each other and back at the waitress.

It was decorated for Christmas. You could see a tree in the corner of the cafe, as well as lights and tinsel across the windows. If you weren’t so nervous you probably would have smiled at the sight of it.

You push the door open and hear the familiar ding of a bell that rings whenever someone walks through, and you’re catapulted back to last year when you did the exact same thing but with a smile on your face from your excitement of seeing your boyfriend, one who you cared and loved very much.

The low hum of Mud’s Lonely this Christmas fills the room, very apt for the current situation and you’re guessing the mood of the conversation you’re about to have. It was late, close to closing time but you and Harry found that to be the best time to come, because hardly anybody else did.

He’s already sat at your usual table, the one in the corner because the two of you often liked to people watch. It had started off a silly game once when you were both tired and didn’t really want to talk about your lives, so you started brainstorming what other people’s were like. As much as you hated to admit it, Harry’s stories were always the better of the two of you but you didn’t mind, because you could little to the words he spoke to you for every minute for the rest of your life and you wouldn’t mind.

He’s already gotten your drinks, you can see the two glasses upon the table in front of him. You pull out the chair, making him look up from his phone at you. You can see his features immediately soften at the sight of you stood there.

They always used to do that.

“I thought you weren’t coming.” You don’t reply, “I got you a peppermint hot chocolate. I know It’s one of your favourites.”

It was one of your favourites, and you haven’t been able to have one in a while because, surprise surprise, they remind you of Harry, and the time you used to spend together.

“Thank you.” You say, picking up the drink and taking a sip of the hot liquid, dropping it back down and looking at him directly in the eyes, “Why did you invite me here?”

He clears his throat, and the movements of his elbows suggest he’s wiping his hands upon his trousers.

“I want to apologise. For everything, this time.” He says, and you watch as he places his hands back upon the table, messing with the rings on his hand. He still wore the one you got him for your anniversary a year ago, “For how I acted yesterday, the day we broke up and the months before hand. I was a dick, and there’s no excuse for it, but I just hope that you accept my apology.”

“I do.” You say, after a couple of seconds of contemplation, knowing that there was no point to having this dragged out for any longer than it already was, “I just want to know why, that’s all I want.”

“I.” He stops and lets out a shaky breath, “I don’t know, if I’m honest with you. I was just so investing into getting the album finished, and for some reason in my mind I thought that it would be best if I was single to do that.”

“Why would you think that?” You ask, the tears brimming on your waterline.

“I don’t know. The second I watched you walk out of the door, and when you didn’t turn around to look again but just drove away, I knew I’d messed up.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You choke back a sob, trying to be quiet to not draw attention to the two of you, “You should’ve stopped me. Explained. I love you Harry, I would have done anything to help you. You needed space, I would’ve given it to you. You needed me, I would’ve been there.”

He drops his head, “I know.”

“Then why didn’t you?” You suck in a breath and bite your head to stop anymore sounds from escaping, “You let me leave. You watched me leave. Why didn’t you stop me?”

“I felt guilty. I’d just broken up with you, love, do you really think that it would’ve been a good idea for me to all of a sudden say I wanted you back?”

Silent tears stream down your face, “You had months to, Harry. Months. You did nothing.”

“And it’ll be the biggest regret of my life, YN, I promise you.” He says, and you can tell that he’s trying to stop himself from crying, “It will be. I’ve been a mess without you.”

You still love Harry, and you know that you do, and you hate seeing him so upset. You believe that’s why you reach forward to take his hand in yours.

“I have too.”

Somehow, you and Harry had been booked on the same flight home, and you managed to get seats next to each other. Spending that time next to each other was good, you believed. It gave you the opportunity to properly speak and catch each other up on everything that had happened. Harry had apologised, yet again, for everything that had happened and you had too. You gushed over his album once you had done, and that was when he invited you to the Secret London Show he was holding at the Electric Ballroom.

That takes you to now, stood in front of your mirror looking over your outfit to make sure that it was presentable enough. You knew you had to look presentable, but it wasn’t as fancy as the Christmas party. You dressed yourself in a long sleeved black lace top, and paired it with some black jean flares and your docs. Simple, yet quite effective in the grand scheme of things.

You were nervous to say the least about what what the evening was going to hold, especially since Gemma and other people who you hadn’t seen since the two of you broke up were going to be there. You weren’t exactly prepared, and if they asked you any questions you’d have no idea about what to say, but once you had brought that up with Harry, he said to just answer with the truth, which you were going to.

The entire way to the electric ballroom you were nervous, your heart was beating out of you chest and you felt as though you shouldn’t have been going. You thought that up until you arrived, when you walked backstage to see Harry and Gemma stood talking whilst Harry was getting ready. Once he saw you, his features rose into a smile and yours did too, and you walked over to press a kiss to his cheek in greeting.

“YN!” You could hear the shock in Gemma’s voice as she noticed that it was you and she immediately stood up and wrapped her arms around you, “I haven’t seen you in so long. How are you?”

“I’m okay, thanks Gem.” You smiled, pulling away and tucking some of your hair behind your ear, “How are you?”

“I’m amazing.” She says, “I certainly didn’t expect you to be here. Are you two back together? Please tell me that you are.”

Instead of answering straight away, you turn to look at Harry briefly. You both knew exactly what was running through your brains, and the way you both smiled at each other made that completely obvious. He nodded, and then you knew exactly what to say.

You grin and turn back to Gemma, “Trying to.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for you.” She wraps you in another hug, “He was a mess without you, and I know you were a mess without him. You’re soulmates. I can’t believe he even did it in the first place.”

“I think we all couldn’t.” You laugh.

“Hey!” Harry whines from the chair beside the two of you, “I made a mistake, we all get it.”

You and Gemma laugh and from then it’s like the past six months hadn’t happened and you were still the best of friends. That was one thing about being with Harry, you loved his family just as much as you loved him. Gemma was like a sister to you, and she was even when you broke up but you just hadn’t seen her. Anne, well she was like a second mother to you. She always made sure to make you feel included at family gatherings, and she even came to stay with you sometimes when Harry went away for a while and you couldn’t go with him. You had missed Harry the most during this time, but Anne and Gemma were two people that you had also missed more than anything.

The majority of people make their way to where they’re watching the show soon after, but you tell Gemma that you’ll meet her on the balcony later because you wanted to have a quick word with Harry. He was in the middle of shrugging his jacket upon his shoulders when you walked through the door, and he immediately stopped his movements and turned to look at you.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “Everything okay?”

You shrug and bite your lip, stepping for arms a few steps towards him, “Just wanted to see you.”

You find your eyes flicking up and down his body, taking in the monochrome yellow suit he had on with a black tie. You always loved and supported Harry’s wardrobe choices, and you had missed in the time you hadn’t been with him picking them out with him. You felt as though this was an excellent choice.

“You look amazing.” He says, taking a few steps forward so that you’re directly in front of each other. You watch as he lifts his hands up, about to place them on your waist but he stops himself and drops his arms back down. Without hesitation you grab his wrists and place them upon your waist. His eyes widen, but the second he feels your skin underneath his hand, just separated by the thin material of your lace top.

“Thank you.” You bite your lip and wrap your fingers around his tie, lightly picking up the material, “You look so handsome, H.”

He almost lets out a sob at your words, but he quickly stops himself and smiles at you. Without thinking, you lean forward and press your lips upon his. They feel so familiar, yet so foreign at the same time. You want to cry. You’ve dreamt of this for months, the feeling of having him this closer to you again, and from the way he wraps his arms around your back and pulls you even closer to him, so that your body is fully flushed against his. You pull away with a smile and immediately drop your head to his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist under his jacket and hugging him close to you. You finally feel a tear escape from your eye.

“I’ve missed you so much, H.”

“I’ve missed you too.”

He sings the entire Fine Line album from start to finish, and from how much you’ve listened to the album you actually know the majority of the words. You sing and dance away with Gemma, posting instagram stories of the two of you, and then one of how proud you are of Harry. You don’t need to explain yourself, there certainly isn’t a need to so you do so without any hesitation. You realise you’ve missed watching him perform, the way he can entertain a crowd with his talents has always been something you’d been jealous of. You’ve done shows here and there but because your album isn’t due to be out until the start of next year, when you plan to do your first world tour, and even though you try your hardest, you don’t feel as though you’ll ever be able to work a crowd the way he does. Where Stormzy came from, you still have no idea, since you hadn’t seen him downstairs but all of a sudden he’s singing Vossi Bop with Harry and your watching with your mouth dropped open in shock as he does so.

You and Harry make the executive decision to go to Harry’s house after the concert. It’s how you both found yourselves sat on Harry’s sofa, a glass of wine in each of your hands. You head is leant against the back of the sofa, whilst Harry’s hand leans upon the back of it, running his fingers through your hair. It’s comforting, and the smile hasn’t left your face since he started to do it.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, moving his hand from your hair to run his finger along your cheekbone, then down until he’s running it across your lips, “I can’t believe I ever pushed you away. You were my girl. I was going to marry you, I needed to marry you, still do.”

“I’m back now.” You whisper back, lifting your hand to place on his cheek, “And I’m not going anywhere. No matter how hard you try and push me away, I’m not leaving.”

“I don’t want you too.” He shakes his head, “I’ll never want you too again.”

Without really thinking, you take the glass out of Harry’s hand and place both of yours upon the table in front of you, listening to the sound as glass meets glass. He leans back on the sofa with a puzzled look, immediately realising what is happening when you move to straddle his hips, placing your hands upon his shoulders to steady yourself. His hands fall upon the small of your back, his hands dragging up and down to tease your skin.

You lean forward, moving so that your faces are inches apart. You knock his nose slightly with yours, causing his cheeks to curl upwards with a smile before you capture it with your lips. immediately responds by kissing your back, pushing his body so that it’s placed even closer to yours if it’s physically possible.

Without a warning you pull away from him, slipping off his lap so that you’re on your knees in front of him. His eyes never leave yours as you so, and he immediately opens his legs so that you can slip in between them, his finger running over his bottom lip as he watches you.

“What are you doing?” He asks.

“Want to feel you.” You reply, resting your hands upon his thighs, “Want to feel you in my mouth. Can I?”

“Go ahead, baby.”

You feel excitement bubbling in the pit of your stomach, and with shaky hands you move to unfasten his belt, and unbutton and unzip his trousers without much struggle. He lifts his hips up so that you can manoeuvre his trousers down and off his legs, leaving him in his black boxers. You bite your lip at the sight of the tent within the flimsy material, already growing and ready for you. You feel slightly overwhelmed that after so long of waiting, and wanting him to be in front of you again, he actually is.

“Already so hard for me, H.” You say, running your hand over the fuzz upon his bare thighs, “Have you thought about this as much as I have.”

“I thought about it everyday.” He replies, quickly at that, “It’s etched in my brain, the sight of you on your knees for me.”

You bite your lip as your grin, leaning to press a kiss to his stomach, just above the happy little trial that slips underneath the hem of his boxers. You feel his stomach tense underneath your lips, especially when you hook your fingers into the hem of his boxers, wiggling the material down until you can completely take it off once he’d lifted his hips again. He’s fully hard for you, and you can feel your stomach doing little flips in excitement for what is going to happen.

Sex, as it is in most relationships, was a big part of yours and Harry’s. It’s important that couples are comfortable with each other when revealing such intimate parts of themselves, and you and Harry were. If any of of you wanted to try anything, you could do so because of how comfortable you felt with each other. Whenever the other wanted to try anything, you’d do so without any hesitation and in such a way that you both enjoyed it. You both had your kinks, and your shared ones, and over the courser of your relationship you both explored those feelings. You were just happy that even though you had spent such time away from each other, you could still feel that confidence bubbling between the two of you, and those feelings bubbling between each other. Harry made you feel a way no other human being has ever been able to, and you were thankful because you felt as though you’d never be able to find that with anyone else, and now you didn’t have to worry because you were back together.

“You ready to take me in your mouth baby.” He says, placing his hand upon your cheek, “Ready to take me the way you used to.”

“Always, baby.”

Your tongue slips from between your lips and you lick a stripe up his throbbing cock, causing a low groan to escape through Harry’s lips. You can’t help but smile at the sound, knowing that you had caused that. Another groan escapes his lips once you wrap your lips around his tip completely, taking it into your mouth and you can help but giggle slightly. He smiles down at you and pulls your hair up so that it’s off of your face, making a makeshift ponytail to help move you up and down his cock.

“Look so good with my cock in your mouth.” His tongue slips out of his mouth to wet his lips, “Always could take me so well. Show me, baby, show me how deep you can go.”

You comply, taking him as deep as you can until you can feel him in the back of your throat. You eyes start to water, and you look up at him through your eyelashes. You hold for as long as possibly can before he lightens his touch and allows you to pull away. A string of saliva connects you two together as you and you wipe your lips with the back of your hand to remove it.

“Can you do it again?” He asks and you sheepishly nod, flicking your eyes between his throbbing member and him a few times before wrapping your lips back around him, “Fuck, baby, no one can do this like you can. No one.”

His words spur you on and you deep throat him as far as you possibly can before you need to gasp for air, taking a few seconds before starting to bob your head again, taking a few seconds at each time to run your tongue over his throbbing tip, collecting some of the salty pre-come that had started to bubble there.

“So good to me.” He lets you stop for a minute, and you place your head upon his thigh so that you can catch you breath. It was almost as though he knew that you needed to take a breather. You had the slight problem of always trying to do more than you’re able too and you almost always end up loosing too much of your breath, “Even though I’m an absolute twat. You’re always so good to me.”

“You deserve it.” You say, your throat a little coarse from your actions before.

“I don’t.” He shakes his head, “I broke your heart.”

You hesitate for a few seconds, “But you’re fixing it.”

“I shouldn’t have broken it in the first place.”

You move so that your higher up and able to place a kiss to his lips, whispering against them, “You’re fixing it.”

He kisses you back with more passion than before, moving his hand to grip under your thighs so that he can pick you up and place your on his. His fingers tug at the hem of your lace shirt, so you detach your lips so that you can pull it over your head. He groans at the sight of your bare chest to him, your nipples hardening into stiff buds at the feeling of the cold air immediately on your skin.

“No bra?” He presses a few open mouthed kisses to your neck, “You’ve been with me all evening, and I never even fucking noticed that you didn’t have a bra on.”

“You used to have a special talent for noticing when I didn’t have a bra on.” You giggle, sighing slightly at the feeling of his lips on his neck, and then the subtle feeling of his teeth grazing your skin.

“I must’ve lost my touch. But don’t worry.” He pulls away and looks you directly in the eye, “I’ll soon get it back.”

“Of course you will.” You laugh, but he stops it with his lips. The first time you and Harry kissed, you were so nervous. You felt as though you were going to mess up and he’d never want to kiss you again. You were completely wrong, and he actually ended up saying that it was one of the best kisses of you life. You couldn’t believe his words, and since then you completely found yourself wanting his lips to be on yours. Just as they were now, his tongue slipping between your lips and the feeling always transporting the two of you to where it’s just you, and you have the time in the world to kiss as much as you want to.

He moves his kisses down your neck, leaving sloppy ones against your skin until he was at the curve of your breast. Harry was a boob man, you knew that for a fact. As much as he loved to hold onto your ass every now and then, you always noticed that he spent the majority of his time focusing on your boobs. Whether it be sucking blemishes into the plushly skin whilst you fucked, or laying his head on them as you both calmed down from your activities, he always, without fail, focused on your boobs.

He knew that if he attacked your nipples skilfully with his tongue, he could have your dampening your panties and clenching your thighs together so much that he couldn’t resist it. He starts by wrapping his lips around your right nipple, tugging on the flesh slightly with his lips before letting it go with a pop.

“Fucking love your tits, love.” He sighs and you giggles slightly before gasping at the feeling of his pinching your other nipple with his fingers, “Fit in my hands, and in my mouth, so nicely.”

You moan in response to his words and throw your head back as he wraps his lips around your other one, sucking and sending flutters all the way down to your core. You wanted him, yearned for him, and you were beginning to grown inpatient.

“Can we go to your bedroom?�� You run your fingers through his hair and pull his head back so that he’s looking at you, “Bedroom.”

“Is that where you want it?”

“Want it in your bed.” You say, placing your hand upon his cheek, “Our bed.”

He stands up with you still on him, your legs wrapped around him as he carries your upstairs. You rest your head upon his shoulder so he can look over yours and direct you safely to the comforts of his bedroom.

This place didn’t hold the best of memories from the last few months of your relationship but if you ignored that and focused on the positives, you had some of your best times in this room. It was a place where the two of you could completely be yourselves, and have a place to call yours. The pillow talk that occurred in this room was out of this world, and it was where you planned your future. One that was put on hold briefly but now seemed to be ready for the two of you again.

“Will you strip for me?” He asks as he places your down in the room, “I want to watch you slip out of those jeans, baby.”

You nod but at first undress him. You slip the jacket from his shoulders, skilfully loosen his tie and pull it over his head. Next is his shirt which you start to unbutton, but Harry grows impatient and rips it off, the buttons flying in all sorts of directions.

“Harry!”

“Oops?” He laughs, sitting down on the bed.

You had given Harry one strip tease before, for his birthday a year ago and it had gone down a treat. You had dressed up in your fanciest lingerie, which happened to be a black set that he had bought specifically for you for your birthday with ‘Styles’ embroidered on the inside. There was something, for the both of you, that you loved about seeing his name all over your the undergarments you wore. Whenever you wore them out in public, the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off each other, as though you were hiding a naughty secret that you didn’t want anyone to know about.

“Are you going to?” He urged, not taking his eyes off you’re, “I’m waiting.”

“Might make you wait a little longer.” You smile, running your fingers along the hem of your jeans, “Seeing as though you left me waiting for how long?”

“Don’t tease.”

“Why?” You shrug, “That was your speciality, wasn’t it?”

He had a love for teasing you, always had done. From the first time the two of you had sex, you knew he liked to tease. He liked to tease you all over, having your body withering under his touch until you couldn’t help but beg for him to touch you. You had a slight suspicion that he enjoyed hearing you beg for him, whimpering under his touch until you were crying for him to touch you. You remember that once, he had been teasing you all day whilst you had been out and about, but once you had gotten home he was teasing you so badly, overstimulating you over and over until you were crying for him to make your come.

“Just strip, my love.” You laugh and his words and unfasten the button to your jeans, turning around so that your ass is facing him, pulling your jeans down to reveal your black lace panties to him. You’re not surprised when he smacks his hand to the flesh of your ass, causing you to turn around with a gasp.

“That wasn’t nice.” You move so that you’re straddling him again.

“When have I ever been nice?” He raises his eyebrows, “I don’t think you want me to start now.”

He leans forward and places his lips to yours again, his body falling back upon the bed so that you’re hovering above him. His fingers run down from the small of his back, to her ass again until he’s gripping the flesh between his fingers, quite harshly you must say so which goes straight to your core. You know that the front of your panties are ruined by your wetness, and you know for certain that Harry does also.

“Sit on my face.” He mumbles against your lips.

“What?” You whisper back.

“Sit on my face.” He places a kiss to your jaw, “Wanna eat that pretty cunt, want to have you trembling above me.”

You would squeeze your thighs together, but you can’t because of his body between yours. You nod your head and clamber off him, pulling your underwear down your legs quickly. You move up the bed until you’re next to his head, spreading your legs and placing your knees on either side of his head. His hands grip your thighs, dancing his fingers along your thighs.

“Please, H.” You say, pushing his hair off of his forehead as you look down at him.

“Didn’t think you’d be begging so soon, baby.” He chuckles, pressing a few kisses upon your cheeks.

“I’m doing no such thing.” You shake your head, “You’re just being slow.”

He certainly isn’t being slow when he leans his head forward and starts to attack your clit with his tongue. You have to quickly lean forward also and grab the headboard to steady yourself, a moan escaping your lips as he does so. He attacks your clit quickly, and you can’t help but grind your hips forward at the feeling. He curls his hands around your thighs, stopping you from moving anymore. You cry out as he doesn’t slow down, and you pull his hair slightly. It emits a moan from him which vibrates against your clit, creeping your closer and closer to your peak.

It becomes a cycle. As you pull on his hair, more moans and groans tumble from his lips again sty your clit. He knew the more that he focused upon your clit, the closer you’d find yourself to your orgasm. He had learnt this, and he certainly hadn’t forgotten it.

You bite your bottom lip and close your eyes, rocking your hips back and forth against his tongue. He knows your close, due to your thighs clamping around his head. He doesn’t slow down, but instead he flicks his tongue even quicker.

“Fucking hell.” You moan, your body starting to shake as you feel your orgasm wash over you. He continues to attack your clit, coaxing you through your orgasm until you’ve finished and catching your breath.

“You taste so fucking good.” He says, dancing his fingers upon your thigh, “Missed your taste.”

“Fuck me, H.” You say, breathlessly.

He doesn’t hesitate. You manoeuvre yourself off of his head and lay so that you’re head is rested upon his pillow. He leans to open his bedside drawer but you stop him, grabbing his arm and pulling his back to you.

“Did you sleep with anyone else?” You ask, knowing that this could make or break whether you were going to be fucked or not at this moment.

“No.” He says, immediately shaking his head, “I didn’t. Did you?”

You also shake your head, “I wanna feel you, H. Want you to come in me.”

He groans without even touching you yet, or you touching him. He immediately drops his lips to yours, and you can’t help but giggle and smile into the kiss. You wrap your arms around his back and pull him closer to you. He pulls away slightly, just to grip his cock, running his thumb over his tip a few times.

“Are you sure?” He says and you nod, threading your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Please, H.” You nod, hips bucking towards his, “I need you.”

“Need you too.” He kisses you again, “Always need you.”

He leans forward, looking down between the two of you to line his cock up with your entrance. He runs the tip over your clit for a second before pushing into you. Your walls immediately envelope him, tightening around him with every inch that he moves in. You sigh against his lips, wrapping your arms around his back. He starts to move in and out of you, your walls clenching around him as he tries to find his rhythm.

“Fuck.” You can’t help but moan that into his ear.

“Taking me so well.” You drop your hands to rest on your pillows next to him, to which he takes your hand in his as he starts to quicken his pace, “Missed your pussy so much. Never leaving again.”

Instead of replying, you place your lips upon his again. From the way his eyes are screwed closed, you can tell that he’s close. If it’s possible, he starts to thrust his hips harder towards you, hitting a point so deep into you that causes a whine to fall from your mouth.

“You’re gonna come, aren’t you?” He says against your neck, moving in and out until your thighs are shaking beneath him, “Can feel you, fuck, can feel you clenching around me. Milking my cock, aren’t you?”

You hum, “Feel so good, H. I’m so close.”

When you do come, you see stars. You clench around him, and profanities escape your lips. The feeling is completely how you remember it. You hadn’t been completely celibate since breaking up with Harry, since you do own a little bullet vibrator that had been your friend. You had it for years before you met Harry, and you used it whenever he was away or if the two of you fancied spicing it up every now and then.

You come down from your high just as Harry is catapulted into his, coating your walls with his as does so. His body collapses on top of yours, his head rested at the side of yours. He’s still inside of you, and both of your chests are rising up at down at a quick pace.

“Fucking hell.” He laughs, and you turn your head to look at him. He has a grin upon his face and you lean forward to kiss his dimple, “I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you.”

“I know.” You smiled, “You’ve told me multiple times. I’ve missed you to.”

He finally pulls out, and you immediately felt empty. You whined slightly and he moved off of you, dropping down upon the bed next to you. You take this as the opportunity to slip from your bed. Due to not having sex in a long time, you flip your legs over the edge of the bed and prepare yourself for having to take a few steps. Taking a deep breath, you stand up and waddle your way towards Harry’s bathroom, scooping up Harry’s shirt on the way.

You know the way like the back of your hand, and it’s oddly comforting to you. Once you’re in the bathroom, you clean yourself and do your business. Once you’re satisfied, you shrug Harry’s shirt on and do up a few buttons so that you’re covering at least a bit of yourself as you do so.

Harry’s underneath the covers as you return to his room, smiling at you with dimples and all as you walk back through the door. He’s on his side of the bed, and you clamber into yours. The feeling of having someone in bed next to you makes you happy inside. You lay upon your side, with one of your hands beneath you head and Harry copies your movement. Your faces are close, and he leans forward to place a kiss to your nose.

You smile, “Hi.”

“Hi, love.”

“Are you okay?” You ask and he nods, “Do you think we’ve rushed this?”

“No.” He’s quick to say, “I don’t think we have. We needed this. I’ve never felt closer to someone as I do to you right now.”

“Me neither.” You smile, moving to grab his hand that was rested upon his side, “And I don’t think I will again.”

“Darling.” Harry says, pointing his finger in the air as he does so.

Chloe hesitates for a second before letting out a, “Ding!” to say that he was right.

It was Boxing Day, and after spending Christmas Eve and the majority of Christmas Day with your family, you had driven from your family house up to Cheshire to spend the rest of Christmas Day and Boxing Day with Harry’s family. You were all sat in the living room playing a game, sporting glasses of wine and basking in the Christmassy feeling of being together again.

After Harry’s show on the nineteenth, and the acts that happened afterwards, you and Harry had many conversations. There was a few tears from the two of you, and the conversation got heated in some aspects but you were together again, and that was the main thing. Originally, you had decided to spend Christmas separate, without each other’s company just because it was such a sudden change and you wanted to make sure that you fully weren’t rushing into things. Then, whilst sat on the sofa after devouring your Christmas dinner, with Mud’s Lonely this Christmas playing through your speakers that you realised that you missed Harry, and a Christmas without seeing him now was a Christmas that you didn’t want in your life.

You had contemplated surprising him and just turning up, but you felt as though that wasn’t fair on the rest of his family, and that’s why you messaged and asked him. He replied asking whether you were certain that you wanted to do this, and you said yes and he said that he’d have a cup of tea ready for you whenever you arrived.

He did have one ready for you, and it was everything you needed to warm yourself up after the long journey.

Anne, Gemma and Michal asked no questions to you, but you had no doubt that they had asked Harry some on your journey. Anne had welcomed you with a hug, and so did Gemma and once their prying eyes were away, Harry kissed you as though his life depended on it, pressed against the staircase of his mother’s house whilst fairy lights twinkled around them.

Anne’s next to go, hoping that her answer of, “Sweetheart,” was at the top of the list.

Chloe replies with, “Uh huh,” to which everyone “Ooo’s” in response at.

You’re rested upon the back of the sofa, with a flute of Champagne in your hand. Harry, in his flat-cap almost breaking your hear with how handsome he looked, turned around and pointed his finger at you.

“Come on, now.” He says, “Be smart with this. It’s sticky stuff.”

“Babe.” You immediately reply, knowing that was one of pet names that Harry called you the most.

People around the room laugh at Harry’s phrase of ‘sticky-stuff’ but that doesn’t mask Chloe’s exclamation of, “Ding!” followed by, “Top answer.”

You smile at the knowledge and Harry turns to you also, holding his fist up for you to fist bump which you both laugh at. He holds his hand out and you pass him your drink, which he takes a sip of quickly before returning it to you so you can carry on playing the game.

Michal is next, and for some bizarre reason to all of you he says, “Cutie-pie,” which certainly isn’t on the list. The room chuckles around you, and Harry says something about him “returning to the mines’’ which you all laugh at, but you specifically roll your eyes at.

The game soon wraps up, and you have your meal. Harry sits next to you, and had his hand upon your thigh the entire way through. The table around the two of you chatted about all sorts, many of the questions being about when your music was coming out which you certainly didn’t expect. You started to feel as though your album, when it came out, wouldn’t be very complimentary of your relationship with Harry, and you were starting to regret it slightly, but you loved all of your songs and you hoped that when you showed Harry, and the world for that matter, that they would too.

You and Harry, after the meal had finished, had offered to be on washing up duty. You had been given the task of washing up, whilst Harry dried because he felt as though his skills were better there. You let him believe that and carry on with drying all of the special Christmas cutlery that didn’t go in the dish-washer.

Once you had finished, and you were drying your hand upon the towel, you felt hands upon your waist, more specifically, Harry’s. He place a kiss to your neck and you giggled, turning around so that upon were facing him. He immediately captures your lips with his, and you wrap your arms around your neck to steady yourself from the attack of his lips. His hands immediately again go to your waist, slipping his hand underneath the material of your jumper to rest upon your skin. Once you pull away, you look at him with a smile upon your face.

“What was that for?”

“What?” He shrugs, “Can’t I kiss my girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?” You ask, unable to hide your smile.

“Girlfriend.” He nods, “That’s what you are, aren’t you?”

You nod your head and place another kiss to his lips, the feeling running through the two of you without really knowing how significant he really was.

“If you want me to be. I want to be.”

He lifts one of his hands and places it upon your cheek, running his thumb ever so delicately along your skin.

“I love you.” He says, with no hesitation in his voice, “I know I’ve been shitty, and I probably shouldn’t be saying this to you, especially not in the way that I am, but I do love you and I never stopped. I swear to you, that from now on my love for you will be the most important thing, and I won’t ever, ever make you second best again.”

“That’s all I want.” You reply, leaning forward to place a kiss upon his lips, “I love you too.”

With the year that you had, and the feeling as though you’d never be with this man again, you couldn’t believe that here you were with him. He was with you, and he was yours and there was no doubt in your mind that what happened earlier this year will never happen again. It was almost as though this was something that your relationship needed to grow stronger in itself, and it surely was now.

He wraps an arm around your neck and pulls you onto his chest, “I’m never letting you go again. I probably won’t let you out of my sight again.”

“I can’t say that I’d ever complain.”

#harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x reader #harry styles x yn #harry styles x you #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles smut fic #harry styles writing

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maybege · 3 years

Text

Booth Jazz

Summary: You and Boba explore a little fantasy – as a treat. (Part 4 of Midnight Special)

Pairing: hot dad!Boba Fett x fem!Reader

Wordcount: 4.0k

Rating: E (18+ only!)

Warnings: explicit sexual content, dom/sub relationship, exhibitionism, almost getting caught, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, consensual degradation and namecalling, multiple orgasms, creampie, car sex, mention of somnophilia, also these two idiots have feelings

I know it’s been a while but I hope that some of you are still interested in this little project. Updates will remain irregular for a while but you can look up the most recent posting schedule here. As always, big shout out to @ayybtch for enduring my thirsting for hot dad!Boba. I hope you all have an amazing start into the week and let me know what you think of this chapter!

masterlist | crossposted on AO3

“Back again, huh?” the man behind the counter greeted you, “And on a Thursday no less.”

“Yeah,” you smiled sheepishly, nervously motioning to the menu, “Could I get a cider please?”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” he nodded, wiping it one more time before grabbing a glass from behind him. You waited patiently, looking around the room and finding that while it was a little more crowded than last time you had been here, you recognized none of the people which was a good thing.

The last time you had been here, it was a weekend with live music. Now it was a Thursday evening which meant that there was a sports game of some sort playing on the large TVs, the centre of attention of the patrons that were there.

It did not escape you that the bartender looked you over, no doubt noticing your very fancy outfit for a Thursday night. Then again, he had never seen you wear anything else.

“Here you go,” the full glass slid towards you, leaving a wet trail on the polished wood, he nodded towards the end of the room, “Should I put it on his tab?”

“That would be great, thanks,” you smiled, taking your glass in hand before making your way to the direction he had nodded towards.

No one paid you any mind, the game being a finale of some sort. Still, you felt as though everybody. You were wearing a dark green cocktail dress, the fabric shiny in the low light and the neckline lower than what you usually wore. And, when the light shone just right, revealing the texture f the lace of your bra underneath. The fabric felt cool and smooth against your hot skin you felt as if everybody could see up your skirt even though the hem hit your knees with every step.

Your steps quickened when you spotted a single man occupying one of the booths at the very end of the room. He was looking down at his phone, intentionally paying you no mind and a coy smile slipped on your lips.

Without stopping, you raised your legs, making to climb over his lap as he was blocking one entry to the bench. Boba’s hand shot up, gripping your hip and keeping you standing over him while his eyes roamed over your figure.

You bit your lip, seeing how his eyes darkened when they landed on your chest, your nipples already pebbled and visibly through the fabric.

“Is this seat taken?” you asked teasingly, shivering when his hand left your hip, trailing down your legs until it simply fell to his side.

“Not at all,” he rasped, motioning to the free space next to him, “Feel free.”

You settled down next to him in the booth, Boba’s arm immediately coming to rest around your shoulders.

“Hello there, little one,” he rumbled, turning his face to press a kiss against your mouth. It already made you clench your thighs, your anticipation building a thick knot in your lower belly.

He groaned, his tongue dipping inside your mouth to taste you and you thanked the stars that the lights were dimmed in the room or else everybody would see you getting in a heated make-out session with him. His other hand went to your bare thigh, big fingers splaying over the soft flesh as he gripped it and patted your legs.

Your breathing came heavy as his mouth wandered to your jaw and behind your ear. “Sorry, I’m late,” you breathed out, leaning your head back against the plush leather of the booth, “Work ran later than I wanted it to. How can I make it up to you?”

Boba chuckled into your ear, the sound low and gravelly and sending a rush of wetness between your thighs. You already knew he had the filthiest thing in mind and you were so here for it. Your walls fluttered around nothing. All day you had been looking forward to tonight, barely able to focus on work, and now that you were here, it was as if you were already on the edge.

“I want you to take off your panties for me, little one,” he instructed hoarsely, pulling your legs open even further, “I want to finger you right here in the pub and I want you to stay good and quiet for me. Can you do that for me, princess?”

You grinned widely, putting your hand on his and pulling it in between your thighs. “I’m not wearing any … sir,” you bit your bottom lip, suppressing a gasp when you felt his middle finger swipe through your already wet folds, “you can do whatever you want with me. I’m all yours.”

“That’s what I want to hear,” he praised you, his thumb circling your clit and you felt heat rise to your cheeks at the wet sounds that came from between your legs.

“Stars, you’re wet for me,” he praised you, “Good girl. Gripping my fingers real tight, hm?”

The bar erupted in cheers at the game, chairs scraping on the floor as some stood up, calling for new rounds of beer and high fiving each other.

You whimpered, breath catching in your throat as Boba used the cover of their noise to speed up his movements. Your legs shook and you weakly tried to put your hand on his, pulling them away from your cunt as the knot in your belly tightened. Everything felt warm – hot– and tight and you felt yourself clamp around him, your feet trembling in the heels you were wearing.

Boba mumbled something you did not understand and suddenly his hand was gone and you whined at the loss, arching your hips. But then his hand came back, slapping your pussy and your hand flew to your mouth, biting into your palm as he pulled an orgasm out of you so strongly you were surprised you did not leave an entire wet patch on the floor.

Leaning back against the bench, you felt dizzy and sweaty and

Boba had sat up slightly, his body covering you from anyone who might decide to look into your general direction. He was looking over you, his face dark as his fingers lipped back inside you. Immediately your walls clamped around the digits again and bit your lip, doing your best to remain quiet.

There was the tell-tale bulge in his jeans and you weakly raised your hand to touch him. Even through the thick fabric of his jeans, you could feel the heat of him and your mouth watered at the thought of getting him into your mouth. Of licking the precoma from his tip before having him push his cock so far down your throat it would make tears appear in the corner of your eyes.

“Fuck I want to sit you on my cock so bad,” he cursed under his breath, his fingers not ceasing their movements and you whimpered, “but that would be a little too obvious, wouldn’t it? You’re too much of a cock slut to stay quiet.“

Boba curled his fingers inside you, slowly rubbing his long fingers against that spongy spot inside you while his thumb swiped over your clit and you bit into his shoulder, feeling slightly sorry for the nice shirt he was wearing as you tried to muffle your sounds. How had you just come and still craved his touch?

Your walls clenched around him. The sounds of the bar echoed in your ears, seemingly getting louder with every thrust of Boba’s fingers inside you. There were people everywhere. And here you were creaming around Boba’s thick fingers as he whispered pure filth into your ear.

“Need you to be quiet for me, little one,” he reminded you with a chuckle, completely pressed up against you, “unless you want everyone to know what a good girl you are for me.”

You nodded frantically, trying your best to keep quiet. But then you saw him look down and you followed his line of sight and the whole staying quiet thing became much more difficult. Because with how you had spread your legs, your dress had ridden up, revealing his thick fingers pumping in and out of your pussy, glistening from your juices.

A quiet moan left you. one that Boba immediately swallowed up with a heated kiss. His thumb

“If you keep this up you’re going to have to let them watch.”

You knew he did not really mean the second one. Early on in your text messages, he had told you he was not one to share – “And certainly not you, little one” – but his words still flustered you and you squeezed around his fingers.

“Have I told you how much I love this?” he whispered into your ear, clearly trying to coax another orgasm out of you and with the way your pussy got even wetter at his deep voice, it was clearly working.

You shook your head breathlessly, feeling your cheeks heat with anticipation as his teeth grazed your earlobe.

“All we said to each other today was hello before I had my fingers buried in this tight cunt of yours,” he revealed, “You did not even ear any panties, you’re that much of a slut for me. Letting me fuck you right in the booth where we first met.”

You whimpered, thankful for the loud cheers of the other patrons, and bit your lips, trying to ignore how good his degrading words made you feel. But Boba knew you and he could read your body like an open book.

With a teasing smirk on his lips, his other hand came up to your neckline, pushing it to the side and when his thumb caught the lace edge of your bra he just pulled it with him. And suddenly not only were you getting fingered undeath the table but one of your tits was bared to the warm air of the bar.

You gaped at Boba’s confidence before your mouth clamped shut trying to keep your sounds in when he started to play with your nipple. “One more,” he encouraged you, “one more time around my fingers and then we can do whatever we want,” he promised you hotly, his fingers pinching and pulling your nipple.

From the corner of your eyes, you spotted someone making their way to the washrooms. Which meant that had to pass by you. Your heart jumped in your throat and your limbs locked up, the pleasure threatening to become too much while the fear of being discovered rendered you silent.

Boba seemed to notice it too, a dark look forming in his eyes as his fingers sped up. He shifted, his body now completely covering yours in the dark booth. “C’mon,” he growled, his thumb flicking over the bundle of nerves, “Either you come right now or you don’t come at all.”

The drunken man stumbled a little, clearly intoxicated, as he supported himself on a table on the other side of the aisle. Boba made a sound at the back of his throat, forcing you to look at him and your breath caught in your throat, walls rhythmically clenching around your fingers.

There was a determination in his eyes and suddenly your entire chest was bared and Boba leant down, biting into the soft flesh of your left breast and you came.

It took everything in you to not slump forward and be seen by everyone in the bar but sideways into Boba’s body, every muscle in your body tensing before relaxing into what felt like melted butter as wetness coated Boba’s fingers.

You closed your eyes, completely out of breath, uncaring that your tits were still very much out in the open.

“Good girl,” Boba mumbled against your temple, pressing a kiss against your cheek as his fingers slowed their thrusts until he pulled them entirely from you, “My goof fucking girl.”

You smiled dreamily, pushing your face into the crook of his neck, “Thank you for making me come, Boba.”

He chuckled and you felt his chest move with the sound. “You’re very welcome, little one,” he rumbled, “How are you feeling?”

Shifting in your seat you grimaced as you felt the wat patch between and under your thighs. The leather was slippery and your skin felt like it was glued to it.

“Sticky,” you answered truthfully, heat shooting into your cheeks, “Stars, I am so embarrassed, I – it feels like I left a puddle. They will know what we did and –“

“Let me worry about that okay?” he interrupted you gently and you watched with wide eyes as he slipped his fingers into his mouth, making a show of sucking and licking your juices from his skin. His dark eyes kept looking at you and you felt your lower belly clench with want.

Stars knew you would not be able to come again so easily but you needed him.

“Let’s go to your car,” you breathed, your hands falling to his thighs, “I – I need you.”

“But you haven’t even finished your drink, little one,” the older man teased you, his lips dragging over your shoulder as he helped you to straighten out your dress. The soft fabric felt cold against your heated skin and you were glad that you had chosen a dark colour because you were sure otherwise everybody would be able to see the stains on it as it plastered to your wet skin.

“I don’t care, I don’t want it,” you pouted, one hand rubbing him through his jeans and you noted with a hint of satisfaction that his jaw tensed as he tried to keep it together, “I only want you.”

“Good, then promise me you won’t get angry with me, princess.”

Your frowned, “What-“

Something wet and cold spilled over both of you – but mainly you. You gasped at the shock, the cider immediately soaking through the fabric of your dress and you scooted away from him, quickly making a grab for some napkins that you pressed on your lap.

“Oh no,” Boba said drily, wiping his hands on a dark patch on his jeans, “I better go ask the bartender for something to clean up this mess with.”

Only now did you realize what exactly Boba had done. Because with you scooting away, the glass had not stopped spilling – it simply spilled on the already wet leather now. Which meant Boba had the perfect cover to wipe down the table and the bench and no one would be the wiser.

Well, except for you.

He came back a moment later with a rag and motioned for you to stand up which you did readily, grimacing at the sticky feeling. You watched as Boba bent over the bench, thoroughly wiping everything away and making sure not a trace of your activities was left before he stood up again.

“There we go,” he mumbled, eyes roaming over your form and his lips quirked up, “And I am sure you don’t want to stay here in these wet clothes, little one. I think I might have a shirt back in the car that you could borrow. Sound good?”

You smiled, “very good.”

Boba smiled, one arm wrapping around your waist as he guided you out of the bar. The other patrons were so busy with the game they did not even notice you leave.

The front of the bar was completely abandoned and you smiled when he led you into an all-familiar alley. “Keep it in your pants, little one,” Boba joked, passing the spot where he had first thrust inside you, “I’m not gonna fuck you against this brick wall again.”

Your shoulders fell, “Why not?”

“Because there are so many other places I want to fuck you first.”

“Oh?”

But Boba ignored your very obvious interest in that line of conversation as he led you to the parking lot at the back of the building. Much like the bar, there were a few cars there but it was not too crowded which meant that you recognized Boba’s truck immediately, your steps speeding up the closer you got.

The headlights lit up as he unlocked it and you smiled when he passed the driver’s door and instead opened the back door.

“Not to forget the secret wish a little birdie told me,” he smiled, settling himself in the back seat, already fiddling with his belt.

You hiked your dress up, “Which is?”

Boba grinned wolfishly, clearly happy with how the evening had progressed and his warm hands found your hips, pulling you on top of him. You looked down to where he was freeing himself from his briefs, thick and heavy and already leaking precome.

“That someone would very much like to be fucked in her sleep,” he revealed, a knowing look in his eyes and once again Boba Fett managed to fluster you, “but you did not expect me to say that now did you?”

“How did you know?” you asked, softly gasping when his hands once again pushed the neckline of your dress out of the way before pulling down the soft cups from your bra, revealing your tits to the cold night air.

“A hunch,” he shrugged, “That and the fact that you were begging me to fuck you by the time you were half asleep,” his fingers rolled your nipples between them, “I believe your exact words were I don’t mind if I wake up with your cock inside me, Sir.”

Both embarrassment and pleasure coursed through and you threw your head back, “Oh stars.”

A loud groan left him when your wet folds rubbed up against his shaft. “Fuck, little one, don’t think I will last long tonight. Not like that.”

But you did not let him deteriorate from your mission. With one hand supporting yourself on his shoulder, the other pumped his cock, keeping him steady so that you could sink down in him in one go. You wanted all of him and you wanted it fast and hard.

“I don’t need to come, Boba,” you replied breathlessly, working yourself onto him, “I – I just want you to come inside me, please. W-Want you to fill me up again so I can feel you tomorrow.”

The sound he let out was beautiful and you let your hands drift over his shoulders down to the fabric that was covering him. You lifted yourself up in the process, relishing in how thick he was inside you, how he seemed to rub against your walls in only the best way, before sinking down again, the sudden movement causing a slapping sound.

Quickly unbuttoning his shirt, your hands roamed over his chest and belly, exploring his tattoos. Boba moaned, his hand squeezing your tits and massaging them roughly, sometimes venturing to circle your nipples and pull them just how you liked it.

“Feel so good,” he brought out, his hips starting to meet yours and you lost your rhythm, simply letting him fuck up into you, “Tightest little pussy just for me.”

You buried your face in his neck, whining at the way he kept using you to get off. Shit, you knew you would not come again and yet there was something so very hot about Boba for once only being concerned with his pleasure.

A broad hand wrapped around the back of your neck, pulling you away from him until you were face to face. “Look at me,” he ordered breathlessly, his eyes glassy and you leant forward, kissing him as hard you could. With every thrust, his cock seemed to reach deeper inside you and your clit rubbed against his belly, more or less accidentally stimulating you.

“You really just want me to come inside you, huh?”

“Uh-huh.”

His hand tightened, teeth nipping at your bottom lip. “Say it.”

“I just want you to come inside me,” you squeaked out, your “Please, I just want you to come inside me. Just use me. Please use me. Pleasepleasepleaseplease –“

He surged forward, teeth clashing against yours and his hips snapped up even harder. He was close, you could feel it in the way he hardened inside you, how his hand tightened around your neck and how his breathing became shallow, dark eyes locking with yours.

And then he came.

The car windows were foggy and your eyes rolled back in your head when the feeling of his seed spilling inside you triggered the surprising third orgasm of the night. You felt warm and full, Boba’s solid body underneath yours the one thing that grounded you in reality.

Catching your breath, you cuddled into his chest, ignoring how his come started to trickle out of you around his cock while Boba gently brushed your back, his lip pressing soft kisses wherever he could reach.

“Thank you for coming inside me,” you mumbled sweetly and grinned when you felt him twitch inside you again.

“Stars, woman,” he groaned, running his hand over his face, “You are really going to be the death of me, aren’t you?”

You laughed, “I hope not.”

It was silent for a moment before both of became aware that you were indeed very much in public and that it only needed one patron to come out to notice what you had done. Which meant that, as slowly as possible, you pulled away from each other.

“Here,” he whispered, reaching behind him and handing you a dark t-shirt, “This might be more comfortable.”

“Thank you,” you smiled, pecking his lips before quickly changing in front of him, “So what do we do now?”

Boba looked down, focussing on re-buttoning his shirt. “I have an idea.”

For a moment, you had feared that he would drive you home already.

But that fear dissipated quickly when he turned into the local fast food’s drive-in.

He got each of you a burger and a milkshake and some fries to share, depositing them between your seats. Still parked behind the neon sign of the drive-in, you mostly ate in silence, quickly devouring your food and drinks while smiling and looking warmly at each other.

Neither one of you wanted to address the elephant in the room.

Only when the music on the radio changed from Electro House something to Calm Country go home music did Boba start the car again, taking the route to get you home.

“When’s your flight?” you asked into the quiet, pressing a kiss against his neck. Your heart was still racing in your chest and with the slight sheen of sweat on your skin, you shivered from the cool night air that came through the window you had cracked open.

“Four a.m.” he replied, a large truck passing you, “A buddy of mine is going to drive me to the airport.”

You hummed, looking out the window. You had been so excited for tonight, for good reason too, but now you felt as if the little time you had, had passed way too quickly. You wanted to hold on to him, this, for just a few hours longer but a look at the dashboards clock – 2:30 am – told you there was no that was going to happen.

“Two weeks,” you sighed, slumping against his side, “I’m going to miss you.”

Boba’s hand slipped from the gearshift to your thigh, lightly squeezing your knee, “I will miss you too, little one. Did not think an all-inclusive business trip to Hawaii would have me this hesitant.”

Neither one of you said anything as he kept driving, the city sights soon turning into familiar streets and your heart ached as he pulled into the parking lot in front of your apartment complex. It was completely abandoned and only the street lamp Boba had parked in front offered a little light.

Both of you remained sitting in the car and it calmed you somewhat that Boba seemed as reluctant to let you go as you were.

“Will – will you text?” you asked, turning to the side to face him while your hand already rested on the doorknob.

He looked serious, then, nodding slowly as if getting used to the thought. “Yeah, little one,” he whispered, “I will.”

As you hurried up the stairs to your apartment, confident that none of your neighbours would be awake to see you only in a slightly too long shirt, you wondered if this something between you could be more than a booty call.

#maybege writes #boba fett x fem!reader #boba fett x reader #smut #boba fett smut

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rowanaelinn · 3 years

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Strange Love

A one shot I’ve been working on for a few days to thank you for 100 followers!! I’m so happy to see people enjoying my fics, i truly love it.

warning: nsfw

“What can I get you?” The barkeep asked Aelin with his most charming smile. He was young and a brunette, exactly Aelin’s type, and according to his name tag he was named Chaol. If only she was less tired or if she was in Doranelle for her own fun she might have tried to flirt with him. “We’ll take two Sex On The Beach, please,” Fenrys, Aelin’s best friend, and coworker, ordered for them both. As funny as it was, whenever they saw each other they drank the same thing. They had met at a work conference five years ago, both of them were sitting at the bar, not in the mood to keep up with their boss, and both of them were drinking the same thing. it had become their ritual, that little thing that made their friendship special.

The waiter nodded and started preparing the drinks. When Aelin looked at her friend he had an eyebrow raised and a small smirk on his face. “What is it?” She asked.

“That guy is basically Sam with straight hair, you can’t keep seeing men that look exactly the same.”

“That’s not true!” It was true. “Besides, I wasn’t going to try anything.”

The look he gave her proved he didn’t believe her. When Chaol brought their drinks and winked at Aelin, she couldn’t help but laugh with Fenrys. “Okay, I may have a type,” Aelin admitted and Fenrys shook his head as he drank. “But there is nothing wrong with that!”

“Of course there’s nothing wrong with it, Ace. But having a type and dating the same guys in different fonts every time are two very different things. You need to spice things up!” He shook her shoulders and they both laughed. “You work your ass off all the time. For Mala’s sake, you haven’t got laid in two years.”

She took the little piece of pineapple hanging on the rim of her glass and threw it into Fenrys' head, right between the eyes. “I should never have told you this.”

Of course, the bastard just laughed, he never took things seriously, exactly like Aelin, as long as it wasn’t about her. “We are on another continent for four days, why don’t you go for it and have some fun.”

“I am at a club with you, I’m having lots of fun.”

“Unless you want to sleep with me again, I can’t give you the fun I’m talking about right now.” This time she took Fenrys’s piece of pineapple and this time he received it on the nose.

“Sleeping with you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.” Fenrys put both hands on his heart, pretending to be hurt by Aelin’s words. She shook her head as she laughed and looked around her. The club was quite crowded for a Thursday night, Fenrys and Aelin both had been lucky to find seats at the bar. “So you want me to take advantage of Elide and Lorcan’s wedding to have sex, that’s what you mean?”

“You'll meet a lot of people at their rehearsal dinner tomorrow or at the ceremony on Saturday. Many of them will be Lorcan’s friends that you will see only for two days.”

“I’m Elide’s bridesmaid, Fen. I won’t have time to flirt.”

“Elide told me Lorcan’s best man was hot!” he tried as he finished his first drink and ordered another one for both of them.

“He is Lorcan’s friend, I don’t trust anyone who pulls out with Lorcan’s bullshit,” She said and finished the end of her glass so that Chaol could take it back and put another one in front of her. “Besides Elide.”

“Amen,” Fenrys said as they clinked their drinks. Lorcan wasn’t Aelin and Fenrys’s biggest fan, and the feeling was mutual. Elide might see another side of this man when it’s just the both of them because Aelin didn’t know why else she would marry him. But Aelin never saw her sister happier than when she was with Lorcan, so Aelin was happy for her.

“Well since you don’t want to get laid tomorrow and Saturday, why not tonight? If you discreetly turn around you’ll see one of the hottest men I’ve ever seen staring at your back.”

Aelin was skeptical. Fenrys and her had similar tastes in women but not in men. She took her drink in hand and turned around slowly as if she was just looking around the club.

Her breath caught when she found a man with silver hair looking at her. He was sitting a few seats away from Aelin, and his eyes were fixed on her. She had dressed up well, she might not have gotten a lot of action lately because of her job but she still loved to be looked at. She was beautiful and she knew it, so she had no reasons to hide.

She had borrowed one of Lysandra’s dresses today, this one was gold. The dress was tight and exposed enough of her chest and back that she caught several glances at her tonight. The stranger was one of them. He had no shame in lowering his gaze to her breast and biting his lip. When his gaze descended again on Aelin's body, she arched her back slightly, crossing her legs to make her dress rise a little more.

As he drank in the sight of her, she marveled at the way his white shirt exposed his muscles. She even caught a tattoo on one of his arms, and with the way his head is turned toward her she could swear the tattoo went up to his neck. It was Aelin’s turn to bite her lip, she always found men with tattoos hot.

When Aelin looked back at his face he had a satisfied smirk, happy to catch her staring. She wouldn’t feel ashamed, not when it seemed he had to readjust his position in his seat after looking at her. She drank her cocktail down in one and delicately wiped her lips with her thumb, drawing the stranger's attention to them. Gods, it was almost too simple. Aelin loved the hunt, she loved to make things last. If she didn't have to fight for something it meant it wasn't worth it.

But the man wasn’t at her side yet, he was just sitting and seemed content to look at her. Most men would already be talking with her now or would be using their tongue in another way. But if Aelin learned something in twenty-seven years of life, it was that men didn’t like to wait. But maybe this silver-haired stranger did, maybe he was like her.

“You’re going to help me,” Aelin said as she took Fenrys' hand, he hurriedly finished his drink before getting down from his chair, following Aelin onto the dance floor. She slightly accentuated the sway of her hips, sure to have the stranger's attention on her.

“You’re the devil,” Fenrys chuckled as his hands slid on her hips and turned her around, pressing her back into his front. They started dancing slowly, both of their hips moving together. As her head fell back on Fenrys’s shoulder and one of his hands trailed up to her stomach, she opened her eyes to find the stranger staring at them.

If Aelin knew anything else about men is that they felt entitled to what doesn’t belong to them. So if she wanted to make him jealous to get what she wanted in the end, she would rather use Fenrys than a random man who could get violent for rejecting him in the end.

“With all the work I put into this I sure hope you'll ask me to join,” Fenrys said loud enough for her to hear as his lips grazed where the shoulder met her neck.

“Go find your own fun,” Aelin wasn’t shy in the bedroom but never had she done a threesome and she certainly wouldn’t have her first with a stranger.

The stranger’s eyes narrowed as she slid a hand on Fenrys’s blonde curls, arching against him. He tightened his grip around his glass of whiskey. Aelin's eyes were fixed on his fingers. She could imagine what they would feel like on her cheeks, breasts, stomach, tights or even inside her. Her inside twitched at that thought.

From the look on his face, he knew what had just been on her mind. Was this supposed to impress me? He seemed to ask as he arched his brow. He leaned in his seat and made a sign to Aelin to keep going. She couldn’t help but smirk and decide she liked this man.

Not one to back down from a challenge, Aelin winked at the man and turned around. She slid her hand around Fenrys neck and he automatically knew what she was doing. He laughed as he lowered his head to kiss her.

The kiss was heated, exactly the way it needed to be. One of his hands gripped her ass, bringing her closer to him while the other found her breast. She moaned, imagining the stranger's hands instead of Fenrys’s. Aelin opened her eyes to find him right in front of her, still sitting, staring at them. He was breathing heavily, eyes fixed on her. It felt so scandalous to kiss someone just for the show, just to provoke someone else.

She closed her eyes as Fenrys broke the kiss to start nipping at her neck. She threw her head back, still thinking about someone else's lips. Fenrys was good at it, but he wasn’t the one she needed now.

“Can I cut in?” A deep voice interrupted them as a warm hand slid on Aelin’s waist. She turned around to see deep green eyes staring at her. Her heart started beating faster at the mischief in these eyes, Aelin had no idea what she had just got into. Fenrys took his hands off her and kissed her cheek, murmuring to her to stay safe, to call him if she needed and he left them alone. Or as alone as they could be in a crowded club.

Having him so close to her made her feel many things but she did her best to keep a normal face. She gasped when he used his hand around her waist to turn her around, pressing her back to his front. Well, that wasn't exactly what she imagined herself doing once she spoke to him. “Don’t be shy, baby. You seemed to like dancing like a whore five minutes ago, didn’t you?”

She could feel herself getting wet at his crude words, this man was going to kill her before the end of the night and she wasn’t complaining. “Maybe I just don’t want to dance with you,” she taunted as her hips started moving with his. As she arched her back to feel more of him, she felt the evidence of his desire. Gods, he had gotten hard watching her. That might be the hottest thing Aelin ever lived.

“Is that why your eyes were on me when your tongue was down his throat?” One of his hands slid up, close enough to her breast for him to stroke the underside with his thumb. Her head fell back on his shoulder and she turned her head to find his eyes on her. She could see all his features now, and she’d been stupid to think every man she had been attracted to had been her type. Her type was him, nothing else.

She couldn’t answer, too overwhelmed. Looking at him as he touched her was too intense, she ground her ass harder on his erection, wanting to make him as desperate as she was. His hand slipped around her waist, holding her as close as he could, as the other one cupped her cheek, keeping her eyes on him. His thumb traced the curve of her lips, she opened her mouth and she stuck out her tongue to lick the tip of his finger in the most provocative way possible while keeping her eyes innocent.

He growled and inserted his thumb in her mouth, she closed her full, luscious, lips around it and turned her tongue around the tip. He leaned to her ear and whispered, tickling her with his hot breath, "You want me to fuck you, baby?"

She nodded eagerly, no longer caring that she looked desperate when his hand slid down to her thigh, just below her dress. He stroked her skin, if he moved his hand up a little he could touch her panties. “Are you wet?” He asked, making her clench around nothing. She didn’t have time to nod before his finger stroked her lace-covered slit. She moaned loudly around his thumb, suddenly grateful for the music. He slipped one finger under her panties and groaned at what he found. She closed her eyes as he caressed her folds, not touching either her entrance or clit. This man was a tease and Aelin loved it. “You’re so fucking wet, is it all for me?” he asked and let out a low laugh when she didn’t answer. “Does it turn you on to be touched in front of everyone?”

As if only remembering where they were, Aelin’s eyes shot open and she turned her head, trying to see if anyone was looking at them. Aelin’s mouth was left empty without the man’s thumb. He used his free hand to push her head back on his shoulder, forcing her to look at him. He had a satisfied smirk on his lips and didn't look worried about the hundreds of people around them.

“Nobody’s noticing you, baby. But you’re gonna have to stay quiet for me because I’m going to make you come right now and I don’t want anyone else to look at you.”

She wanted to protest, she really wanted to. But all she did was bite her lip when the stranger's thumb flicked her clit and another of his fingers plunged into her entrance. He didn’t wait before thrusting into her at the right rhythm to get her off. He added another finger and Aelin couldn’t help but let out another moan.

She closed her eyes, focusing on the pleasure but it apparently wasn’t in the man’s plan. “Look at me when I make you come, baby.” Too gone to care, Aelin opened her eyes and clenched around his finger when she met his eyes. He had the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen and having them on her as she started rolling her hips against his hand was almost too much. “You’re so tight, I can’t wait to feel your cunt around my cock,” He whispered in her ear as he added a third finger. He circled her clit one last time and she fell over the edge, hiding her head in his neck as she bit her lip to the blood not to scream of pleasure. He didn’t stop thrusting into her, prolonging her climax. When her walls stopped spasming around his finger he stopped, pulling out his fingers.

Her legs were shaking and if he didn’t use his arm to hold her she would have fallen on the floor. “You did so well,” he praised her, kissing the top of her head. She just let a man whose name she didn’t know finger her in public and made her come faster than anyone ever did. She could almost laugh at the situation if she wasn’t still so needy.

“Join me in the bathroom?” He asked and she didn’t answer, only took his hand and started walking. The moment he closed and locked the door, she was thrown on the wall and his lips crashed onto hers. She jumped up and wrapped her legs around his waist, sliding her hands through his soft silver hair.

"What's your name?" She asked as he kissed her jaw and then her neck.

He looked back at her face, she was grateful he was holding her legs because she felt them weaken, pinned under his stare. “What’s yours, baby?” She wanted to say she asked first, but she knew enough about him to know he was in control.

“Celeana,” the lie rolled off her tongue easily. No matter how good this man was, he was still a stranger and Aelin was a woman. The less he knew about her, the better. “Yours?”

“You won’t need to call me anything else than ‘sir’.” He said with a proud smirk as he got her back on her feet and turned her around to face the mirror. He pushed her so her hands rested on the sink, the only thing holding her when he started kissing her neck.

“If I’m too rough you say red, understand?” He asked, looking at her in the mirror. She just nodded, leaning her back into his front. He pulled her dress up around her waist and spanked her. She bent over the sink, only held on her legs by the man's hold on her hip. The pain spread throughout her body, setting all her nerves on fire. “Use your damn words, Celeana.”

“Yes.” Not the answer he wanted because he spanked her twice, once on each ass cheek, harder than the first time. She couldn’t hold back her moans.

“Want to say something?” He asked, his tone mocking. She shouldn’t like this, shouldn’t like being treated that way. She had had public sex and been degraded for the first time in her life tonight, and the gods knew how much she loved all of it.

“I understand, sir.” She breathed.

“So you can be a good girl, that’s surprising.” He said as he stroked her ass. “You’d deserve to be spanked to the blood for kissing another man in front of me.” She moaned at his words. she arched her back, silently begging for more. He let out a soft chuckle and instead of giving her what she wanted, he took his hand off her ass. She cried out, mourning the loss of his hand.

He wrapped her long golden hair around his wrist, pulling at it. He made her look at him in the mirror as he slid the strap of her dress, exposing her bare breast. Aelin hated wearing a bra, and stopping wearing one did wonders for them.

The man took one in his hand, playing with her nipple as he used his other hand to pull harder at her hair. “Beg for it,” He commanded but Aelin didn’t. Unhappy with her behavior, he slapped her breast, hard. He took her nipple between his fingers and twisted, making her cry out in pain. “If you don’t beg me, you brat, your pretty pussy is the next thing I will spank and I won’t stop until you come.”

“Gods, please,” she moaned, a tear falling from her eye. “Please, sir. Fuck me, I need you in me, sir.” She didn’t care how pathetic she sounded, she would die if she didn’t have this man in her.

“Celeana?” He asked as he made her panties slide down her legs.

“Sir?”

“You’re not allowed to come until I tell you to, understood?”

“Yes, sir.” He bent her over the sink and unbuckled his belt. Aelin wanted to see his cock, he had felt so big against her ass.

His tip teased her entrance and then her clit. She didn’t care if someone heard her moan as he slowly entered her. He was big, bigger than any of the men she ever had. He buried himself to the hilt, groaning as her walls spasmed around him. It hurt to have him inside of her, but she welcomed and enjoyed the pain, and he knew it.

That’s why he didn’t wait for her to adjust and started thrusting into her, hard. Her eyes shut, focusing entirely on the feeling of him filling her.

She was shaking so much she didn’t know how her legs kept holding her. He pulled out and entered her again, hard, his balls slapping her clit. “Your cunt feels so fucking good,” He moaned, going faster, harder. His hand slammed on her ass, tearing another cry out of her. She was close.

He made her rise, hanging the angle of his cock, keeping her from falling with a hand around her throat. Delicately, he tightened his grip, and Aelin’s eyes rolled. His other hand found her clit.

“Sir,” she moaned, trying to hold her orgasm back.

“What is it, baby?” He was breathless. “Use your words, Celeana.”

“Please, can I come?” She prayed to every gods in the world he would let her come, but when she opened her eyes and found him smirking she knew her prayers were useless.

He only said “No,” and thrust faster in her, chasing his own orgasm.

Aelin wished she had a name to moan as she tried to focus on everything but the feeling of this man in her pussy and his finger on her clit. She cried, both in pain and pleasure as he kept going, hitting that spot deep inside of her nobody ever hit before

“Let go,” he grunted. “Come for me, Celeana.” His grip around her neck tightened even more and she lost control. She screamed, loudly, as she fell over that cliff of pleasure. Barely noticing she squirted. He kept thrusting into her and came a second later, spilling himself inside of her. Both leaned on the sink, trying to take their breath.

He pulled out of her and made her sit on the sink. Her back rested against the mirror, too tired to do anything by herself. He got dressed and took some paper to clean her up, she whimpered, too sensitive to be touched. He softly apologized, kissing her shoulder as he helped her get her dress back in place.

“Think you would want to do this again?” He asked, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. There was only curiosity and desire in his eyes, not demands.

“Sorry,” She gave him a small smile. “I’m not from here and anyway, I don’t really do more than one nightstand.” Gods forbid anyone ever gets attached. He only nodded and gave her a small smile full of understanding.

“Will I ever get your name?” She teased him, earning a soft laugh from him.

“I think I‘d like to keep some mystery.”

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

“We’re late,” Fenrys stated as they both entered the elevator.

“We’re fashionably late,” Aelin corrected him and he snorted. Both of them were past the point of fashionably late. Elide would be mad at her, she knew it, but Lorcan would be too and she kind of liked the sound of that.

“She’s going to kill you,” Aedion warned as he met them in the hall. Aelin quickly took him and Lysandra in her arms and started walking to the reception room.

“She won’t be physically violent, she won’t take the risk to ruin her bridesmaid look.”

“It’s Elide we’re talking about, it’s not physical violence I would worry about if I was you.” Lysandra chuckled, of course, she would find it funny. Aelin rolled her eyes but laughed along with her friend. Soon they were in the room, they were careful not to make noises, not wanting to drag attention to them.

She looked at her watch and sighed, one hour late wasn’t that bad, was it? At least, Fenrys would suffer from Elide’s rage if it came to that. Aelin took a glass of champagne and walked to Elide and Lorcan. Lorcan was talking to someone but she couldn’t see who because this bastard was just too tall. “Ellie,” Aelin started, taking the small woman in her arms. Maybe affection will make her less angry?

“You bitch!” Elide whisper-shouted, pushing Aelin away from her. Well, her plan definitely didn’t work.

“Elide, you look ravishing,” Fenrys winked and Aelin had to use all her focus not to laugh at Elide’s angry face. She was almost shaking as if it was taking everything in her not to yell at Aelin and Fenrys. If she laughed right now she was kicked out of the wedding, she knew it. Elide seemed to relax a little as Lorcan’s arms wrapped around her shoulders.

“Galathynius, Moonbeam.” He nodded. “So your plane didn’t crash.” She said with a point of humor but Aelin didn’t care and flipped him off. Fenrys just softly laughed and put an arm around Aelin’s shoulder, a normal way for him to show his affection.

“You two didn’t meet Lorcan’s best man.” Elide said as the man who talked with Lorcan turned around. Aelin’s heart stopped. No, no, no, no. “Rowan, this is Aelin, my sister. Aelin, this is Rowan, Lorcan’s best friend.”

This had to be some kind of sick joke, there was no way the man who fucked her last night was Lorcan’s best man. The universe really hated her. His eyes widened when he saw her and even more when Elide said Aelin’s name. Her real name.

Fenrys burst out laughing loudly, drawing the attention of everyone in the room.

—————

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itsjustmyfantasyroom · 3 years

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Grey Wings.

*Grey Leather*

*Grey Uniform*

*Grey Dress*

*Grey Vase*

*Grey Blanket*

*Grey Jeans*

*Grey Socks*

*Grey Boxes*

*Grey Balloons*

*Grey Singlet*

*Grey Cocktails*

*Grey Keys*

*Grey Rope*

*Grey Boxing Gloves*

*Grey Ice Pack*

*Grey Lace*

*Grey Ashes*

Thank you to my Bishop Beta @beccabarba and Bishop’s Halloween costume is dedicated to @alwaysachorusgirl who is a massive fan of this series ❤.

🦇Happy Halloween 🎃

Warnings: Swearing, old relationships and smut.

WC: 1861

Enjoy x

The aftershocks of the fires through Santo Padre continued for weeks. Every shift was none stop, with people getting injured going back to the runes of their houses and hurting themselves, and you hadn’t been seeing Bishop much, the club helping out when Antonia asked, “The town needs the club so they know you’re the good guys” was the line she used to rope Bishop into saying yes. The last few weeks you had just been sleeping next to each other and now the clean up and work started to settle down, Ez suggested the club throw a Halloween party, inviting the charters from out of town for you all to let your hair down and naturally you were sweet talked into planning it with the help of Rosa.

You had organised the food, had gone all out on the decorations and made a new play listen to play during the night over the speakers. You had taken a couple of days off work to relax, Rosa taking the same days off and on the day of the party, Letty, Gabby, Steve and Chucky promised to spend the day helping you set up for the night. You walked out to the van Chucky had backed to the stairs, which had some of the bigger decorations and the green and red lights in it when you heard voices, pulling your attention towards Ez’s trailer and you saw him having an intense conversation with Emily.

You walked down the steps and stood there for a moment; your arms crossed over yourself watching on in disbelief that she would be stupid enough to walk into the club house grounds, let alone talking privately with Ez. When was history going to stop repeating itself and stay away from you, why was Emily even here and why would Ez walk back into that situation when he had Gabby waiting for him every night? You watched as Emily started to point her finger in Ez’s face and Ez threw his hands up and turned to walk away from her. Emily called after him and she looked past him and caught eyes with you, you shaking your head back at her, her face blushed and she started to walk towards you also,

“Y/N, it’s not what you think” Ez walked to stand in front of you and you looked up into his eyes.

“Does Gabby know your out here with her?” Ez sighed looking down to the ground “Go inside” you snapped.

“You’re not my mother“ Ez shot back frowning at you.

“Your mother would have kicked your ass for being out here in the first place Ezekiel, so don’t try me”

Ez rolled his eyes walking inside and when you looked back ahead of you Emily was standing in front of you, her eyes wide open starring at you and her arms crossed over her body,

“Does Miguel know you’re here? And who you came here to talk to?”

“It’s not what you think, Y/N”

“Emily, what even made you think it was a good idea to come here and speak to him? You’re asking for trouble”

“Don’t try to act like my friend now and pretend you’re concerned about me and my marriage. You don’t understand, ever since Dita-“

“Don’t kid yourself Emily” you scoffed “Look at who your married too, you know how he feels about Ez. Gabby is an absolutely amazing person and I wont let you swoop in here to try and rekindle something because your home isn’t happy” your tone was laced with venom.

Emily raised her hand and went to slap you, but before she could even swing for you, you felt a hand grab yours pulling you out of the line of the slap and Bishop pulled you behind him to shield you,

“I don’t think your husband would approve of you being here Mrs. Galindo. It’s not really the place for a lady like you. I think you should leave” Bishop said coolly, Emily narrowed her eyes at you both. She went to open her mouth, but Bishop cut her off before any words came out “Oh and Emily” Bishop ran his hand through his beard, looking at her with frowned brows “raise your hand at my girlfriend again, we’re going to have a big fucking problem, understand?”

“Clearly” Emily spat turning on her heels walking away.

Bishop turned to face you, his eye brows raised, a grin on his face and you shrugged your shoulders,

“It’s Halloween, all kinds of crazy comes out today” you looked at him coyly.

“Halloween’s got nothing to do with it, baby. Your ghost’s follow you around all year round”

“Babe, they aren’t ghost, they’re poltergeist”

Bishop let out a chesty laugh and you gave him a cheeky smirk.

“Should have thrown you both in the cage to fight it out. If you can beat Angel’s ass, she wouldn’t have stood a chance” You giggled back and Bishop hooked an arm around your waist pulling you into him, “You know how much I like it when your feisty, so sexy” his lips landed on your jaw and his hand went down to grab your ass through your jean shorts, then he slapped it and he peaked your lips, your hands going to his cheeks and you both smiled into each other lips “Do you need help finishing the decorating?”

“We’re good, thanks babe”

The club house looked absolutely amazing, green and red lights around making it look eery, ghost, zombies, mummies and spiders hanging from the roof, fun Halloween food, gross Halloween candy and so far, everyone had dressed up. You, Rosa, Letty and Gabby walked out of Ez’s trailer all dressed in your costumes walking across the yard to the party. Rosa dressed as a sexy cop, Letty as a sexy witch, Gabby sexy sugar skull and you in your sexy grey fairy dress with matching grey wings.

Your eyes scanned around the outdoor area at everyone’s costume and you were excited that they had all made an effort to get dressed up when your eyes found Bishop up on the porch talking to Taza and Hank and your mouth watered. A white tank top showing off his arms and chest with red paint dripped over different parts of it, an old pair of jeans that had rips down the legs, his salt and pepper hair swooped back, his beard perfect and furry fingerless gloves on his hands. Bishop excused himself from the others and walked down the stairs to you, his eyes dark as they ran over your body in your very tight and very short dress,

“Hey baby” he peaked your lips “Love your costume, my sweet girl” he growled before he kissed your neck and made you giggle at his beard tickling your skin.

“Love yours. Such a sexy werewolf” your hands rested on his arms.

Bishop grinned, his lips landing on your shoulder and he kissed up to your ear his hot breath hitting your skin and you shivered,

“Does it make you hot for me baby?” He nipped your ear lobe.

“Always hot for you” you purred back.

It had been an amazing and fun night. Too much drinking and too much dancing. Your wings and his gloves long gone when Bishop was leaning on the pool table, you between his legs with your back to his chest shaking your hips in his crotch to the beat of the music and his hands on your hips. One of Bishop’s hands snaked up your body and his hand went around your throat and his other ran down to your thigh, his fingers brushing up the inside of it and his lips at your ear,

“I’ve missed you so much baby” he kissed behind your ear. You moaned pushing your hips back into him and you heard a growl rattle through his chest “It’s been a long time since I made you feel good” he rolled his hips into you and you moaned again.

His grip wasn’t firm on you, you walking out of with no struggle. You grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the templo door, till you both saw the bathroom door open and Bishop pulled you into it, closing and locking the door behind you both. He pulled you into his body and he kissed you deep, rough and needy. Bishop’s tongue rolled into your mouth as he reached for your hand pulling it to his crotched and you cupped him over his zipper, he grunting into your mouth. Bishop’s hand went on top of yours pushing your hand into him more as he started to push you back towards the bath.

When your legs bumped into it, Bishop’s hands moved to grab your hips and he spun you around and he sat on the edge of it before you watched as his longs fingers pushed down his zipper and he reached into his boxers pulling out his hard cock. You looked down at him and licked your lips. You stepped over him so your legs where either side of his, Bishop reaching under your costume to hock his finger into the edge of your panties to movie them out of the way as you lined yourself up to him and you sunk down on him. Your mouth was slightly open as he stretched you, you missing the way he filled you up and Bishop let out a groan when he bottomed out in you, he missing your warm wet centre. Your arms went around his neck, one of his arms around your middle and his other cupping your ass cheek, guiding you over him as you rocked your hips,

“I missed you babe, so much” you whimpered feeling your walls flutter around him.

“Me too baby” he grunted.

Your eyes were locked with his before your forehead rested on his, your hips moving faster over him and he started to thrust up into you. You loosened one arm from around him and reached down, your pointer finger finding your clit and rolling over it fast, your orgasm coming on faster because it had been so long,

“Yes, Bishop” you whimpered

“Let me hear you baby”

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip and you moaned Bishop’s name loud as pure pleasure crashed over you as you came hard around him. Bishop started to thrust up into you as you started to come back down to reality, his grip on your behind bruising till he stilled and grunted your name loud, his realise spilling into you and he tried to catch his breath. Bishop’s hands came up to your face, cupping your cheeks and kissing you deeply. You didn’t break the kiss as you stood up off him, your hands then moving to his cheeks. Bishop broke the kiss peppering your face with kisses before he let you step away to fix yourself up and he did the same,

“Trick or treat babe” you smiled at him and Bishop grinned as his fingers did up his belt,

“That baby, was a treat” he winked “the tricks can come out when we get home”

Tags: @nestorocetevas @jemmakates @frattsparty @withmyteeth @lyly00

#bishop losa #bishop losa x you #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa smut #bishop losa x #obishop losa #obispo losa #mayans mc #mayans fanfic #mayans smut #mayansmc

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delaber · 3 years

Text

Coming Home

Note: The fic no one asked for but I still wrote because I had to. Pretty sure this will be my last Rafa fic. It’s been a ride. Thank you!

Words: 7.7K

It was one of those blisteringly hot days where all you wanted to do was to laze about in front of a fan with your feet up and eat popsicles in the hopes of cooling just a tiny bit down. The sun was scorching and there was little to no wind at all, making it close to unbearable to be out of the shade for more than two minutes at a time - but unfortunately, you found yourself stuck in the middle of a very sunny lawn at Nat's garden-themed birthday party. Several times during the day, you had caught yourself looking jealously towards the enticing pool area at the end of the lawn but unfortunately had to settle for self-administered time-outs in the shade under various palm trees that were lining the garden.

At one of said time-outs, the birthday girl Nat approached you with a huge smile and two drinks in hand, "oh, there you are!" She exclaimed happily as she reached the same tree as you and handed you one of the piña coladas she was holding, "I've been looking all over!"

"Sorry," you smiled at your best friend and accepted the cocktail she was offering you, "I needed to cool down for a bit," you said while fanning your hand in front of your face

"Ooh, great idea - make room for me," Nat too stepped under the shade of the palm tree and immediately started fanning her top, "Jesus Christ, it's hot today!"

"Well, you were the one to insist on not having gazebos for your party," you shot your best friend a small smile, "it ruins the aesthetic," you mimicked her words from a few days ago with a laugh.

"Oh, shut up!" Nat let out a chortle, "I clearly made a terrible decision."

"Yeah, you should always listen to me and Diggs," you chuckled while having a sip of your tropical drink, enjoying how it slowly seemed to lower your core temperature as soon as the cold liquid hit your oesophagus.

"Hey, speaking of; have you seen him?" Nat squinted her eyes while shooting her phone a glance, "he's not answering any of my texts."

"I talked to him over by the snacks a little over an hour ago," you pointed over your shoulder, "he said he had to take off for a bit."

"He had to take off?" Nat furrowed her eyebrows, looking directly at you with disbelief written all over her face. From her expression alone, you could tell what was going through her head; as Nat's long-term boyfriend, Diggs knew exactly how important her birthday was to her. "That's seems a bit out of character..." she mumbled sadly.

"Aww, don't worry - he'll be back in a bit."

"What was so important for him to do on today of all days?" Nat sounded crestfallen.

"Come on Nat, what kind of an errand could he possibly have to run on his girlfriend's birthday?" You rolled your eyes.

"...But he already got me a present," she fiddled with the shiny new bracelet around her wrist.

"Maybe he's getting you a surprise," you shrugged mysteriously.

"Really?" The sad look on Nat's face was quickly replaced by wide eyes accompanied by a broad smile, "A surprise?"

"Don't tell him I said anything!" you laughed.

"Well, did he tell you what it was?"

"Nope... He probably knew we'd end up having this conversation," you chuckled.

"Slick bastard," Nat muttered under her breath before her voice returned to normal, "well, I hope he gets back soon. Of course I'm excited about the surprise but I don't want him missing out on the party."

As if on cue, a loud clanking noise coming from the shrub-embedded gate at the other end of the lawn had both you and Nat whip your heads around; Diggs had stepped inside the closed-off garden with a huge smile plastered on his face, stopping as soon as his feet hit the soft grass. He scanned the area for the birthday girl, and when his gaze finally landed on Nat, you watched how his face immediately turned soft as their eyes met across the lawn.

"Ah, there he is," Nat sighed happily as she took in her handsome boyfriend.

"...yeah, but he's empty handed," you added with a sigh after a quick scan for a birthday present in his open palms.

"Oh, you're right. Must be something he can stow away in a pocket..."

"Or something that's too heavy for him to carry alone," you added.

"Either way I'm just glad he's back," Nat said dreamily and send Diggs a small wave to which he replied with a sappy smile and a wink.

"Ah, I'm third-wheeling so hard right now," you gagged and with a grin turned your back towards Diggs in the hopes of making it less awkward for yourself.

"Yeah, sorry babe," Nat was biting her lower lip, trying to contain herself as she gazed at her handsome boyfriend over your shoulder.

"You look terribly confused all of a sudden," you laughed as you took in Nat's furrowed eyebrows.

"Yeah, he's just... standing there - why is he not moving?"

"What? He's standing completely still?" you arched an eyebrow, looking at Nat who still wasn't sparing you a glance.

"No, he's... looking for something on the other side of the hedges. And he's talking to someone - I think?"

"On the phone?"

"No... - oh wait, looks like he brought someone along."

"He brought someone?" you repeated curiously, "who?"

"I don't know. I don't recognise him..." Nat looked confused as she squinted her eyes, trying to focus on what was happening at the other end of the lawn. Then suddenly, her face changed, "- hey, is that...? No - wait... - Oh my god! It is!" She finally whipped her head around, looking directly at you with huge eyes, "he's here."

"...Who is?" you looked at her confused.

Nat didn't have time to answer your question before a male voice that you didn't immediately recognise rang from behind you, "Ey yo, Nat!"

"I'm sorry..." Nat whispered, "- but I have to..." she shot you a pained look before she moved past you with a squeal as she briskly walked away from the shade under the palm tree.

Confused, you spun around and scanned the lawn for Diggs and his mystery companion. Diggs had put on one of his more colourful outfits, and your eyes were immediately drawn to him and the smug smile he was wearing as he took in Nat who was now running at full-speed towards a sharp-dressed man to his right.

"Rafa!" Nat exclaimed loudly as she fell into the well-dressed man's arms, "you're here! I can't believe it!" she squealed.

The mere sound of his name made the hairs on the back of your neck stand while the blood quickly drained from your face. You instantly felt your throat go dry and your head dizzying as Nat's words rang in your ears. Rafa was here? Rafa as in Rafael? No, it couldn't be...

You adjusted your gaze slightly but sure enough; there he was. In the middle of the lawn in a tight embrace with your best friend. None other than Rafael Casal.

That. Fucking. Prick.

"You're kidding me..." you mumbled under your breath.

What the fuck was he doing here?!

You immediately felt your heart rate increasing and your palms getting sweaty as you took him in. He had grown a beard and cut his hair short, making the area above his forehead strangely lonely without its familiar swoop of hair that he had been so fond of back when you had known him. Your eyes travelled across his face that was plastered with the toothy grin you had once loved, and down to the strong arms that you had once known every vein of. There weren't any tattoos on his arms that you didn't recognise but he had definitely built more muscle mass since the last time you'd seen him.

You had to admit that even though you were more than regularly annoyed with him, he looked good - he just didn't look like Rafa. Not your Rafa at least. He looked more man than jokester, a ghost of the boy you'd once called yours.

When the tight embrace in front of you finally ended, Rafa straightened up and looked over Nat's shoulder, his green eyes immediately piercing through you. He did a quick scan of you from the tip of your sneakers to the top of your head, and if it hadn't been for the fact that you knew that you looked good in your new dress, you might have grown flustered under his intense stare - but you didn't. He could stare all he wanted and meanwhile use the opportunity to think about what he had let go of - what he was missing out on!

He looked you up and down a few times and when his eyes reached yours, he sent you a tentative look and a careful smile that you didn't reciprocate. After all, pretending that Rafael Casal meant absolutely nothing to you was something you had perfected over the years.

When he finally realised that your face would remain stone cold and without the smallest trace of friendliness, he quickly looked back at Nat and sent her a broad smile as she began mumbling something to him about how he was the last person she'd expected to see today.

Meanwhile, you used the opportunity to march over to Diggs and pull him aside; "what the hell do you think you're doing?!" You hissed at him, your voice so low that only he could hear.

"Oh, I'm just watching my best friend and my girl reconcile after years apart," he smirked, his eyes still locked on the two friends talking excitedly in the middle of the lawn.

"Don't get smart with me, Diggs!" You said through gritted teeth, "why the fuck didn't you tell me that he was coming? You know how I feel about him! He's a snake!"

"Jesus Christ," Diggs rolled his eyes, "This is exactly why I didn't want to tell you. If you'd known that I was picking him up at the airport, you would've ended up faking an excuse to leave before I'd returned."

"And with good reason! You know what he did! I don't want to talk to him!"

"You need to resolve this shit between the two of you," he shrugged, "You need to learn to be in the same room as him. It's been way too long already, and it cannot go on like this forever."

"Oh, watch me!" You huffed childishly, looking over at Rafa's dumb smile as he said something incoherent to Nat.

"Bruh..." Daveed cocked his head and sent you an unimpressed look, "He didn't come to mess with you. He came for Nat... He misses her."

"- but," you tried to interject but Diggs immediately cut you off: "- And before you say anything -" he continued, "- look at how happy she is!" he gestured to Nat who had now gone back to hugging Rafa tightly, "I know that her loyalty to you dictates that she has to hate him or whatever, but she has clearly missed him too. So if you can't do it for yourself, please just behave yourself for Nat."

A guilty pang hit your chest when you looked at Nat's happy smile, and you realised that she had cut off all contact with Rafa for your sake. "For the record; I never told her she couldn't talk to him," you mumbled.

"I know," Diggs nodded, "that's just how good of a friend she is."

"Alright... I'll behave for Nat," you sighed with a slight scowl before you quickly continued, "- but I'm not going to talk to him! No way!"

Diggs shot his hands in the air in a surrendering manner, "hey: normal, regular behaviour is all I'm asking for! You can ignore him for all I care - just be civil."

You didn't answer Diggs but instead continued to scowl as you watched Rafa and Nat having a giggle about something. The sound of Rafa's obnoxiously loud laugh swimming in your ear canals made your stomach go annoyingly warm, and for a millisecond you actually wished that he was laughing at something dumb alongside you instead of Nat - or at least you wished for it until you reminded yourself of what he had done, and the familiar anger towards him soon returned.

"Aw, come on," Diggs let out a laugh when he saw your angry face. He gave your shoulder a playful shove before he put his arm around you, "let's get you a drink - you look like you need it."

"Yes, I need it!" you groaned as he led you away from Nat and Rafa, "- and a big one too 'cause my dumb friends had my nemesis fly in from New York behind my back."

Diggs laughed a little at your miserable tone of voice, "cheer up," he chuckled, pulling you a little closer, "...and to be fair, I did the inviting. Nat had nothing to do with this."

"God, you're the worst," you mumbled as you reached the self-service bar, "I cannot believe you'd spring this on me after what he did!"

"Come on. It's been three years," Daveed shrugged and smiled down at you before he pulled out two clean glasses.

"That's easy for you to say when you weren't implicated in it," you mumbled sourly without looking directly at him.

"I may not have been directly involved, but you know I still got caught up in the middle," Diggs sent you a short look before he poured both of you a drink, "- and I still am."

"How?" You said incredulously, "I literally never talk about him."

"Exactly," Diggs shot you a sideways glance as he screwed off the cap of a tonic water, "you never talk about him. It's forced."

"It's forced? Since when is not talking about your asshole of an ex-boyfriend forced?"

"I know you miss him," Diggs said softly and sent you a careful look.

You forced yourself to scoff as you accepted the gin tonic from him, "I have no idea what you're talking about! I literally could not care less about Rafael at all," you looked across the lawn and immediately caught Rafa's gaze that was aimed directly at you. His eyes were huge, his gaze soft and longing. You thought to yourself that he looked as if he was the one who'd been wronged all those years ago. As if you were the one who had disappeared off to New York before royally fucking everything up. Which you absolutely weren't!

Rafa had been annoying as hell all night! Whenever you were no more than a few milliseconds away from letting down your hair and forget about the fact that your nemesis was attending the same party as you, you could hear his annoying foghorn of a laugh in the group of people next to you. And although you were trying your absolute best to avoid him completely, he still seemed to be all over, somehow always within a ten-foot radius from you, his cutting-torch-like voice constantly poking at your eardrums.

You were successful in avoiding him up until around midnight when you unfortunately were careless enough to lay down your guard for a few seconds too long, not realising that he had approached you at the self-service bar while you had been looking around for a lime for your drink. "Hey," you heard a low growl behind you as you were cutting the citrus into wedges.

You didn't have to look up from the table to know who the voice belonged to. "Rafael," you said neutrally while screwing off the cap of the tequila bottle you were holding, pouring up a couple of ounces of liquid without sparing him a glance.

"Hmm... Ra-fa-el," he repeated slowly, dragging out the name and smacking his lips as if savouring how it rolled off his tongue, "you know what? I don't think I've ever heard you call me Ra-fa-el before."

With your gaze still firmly placed on the tequila-filled glass in front of you, you arched an eyebrow but didn't say anything as you continued working on the cocktail, desperate to not give in to his antics.

You could feel his gaze burning on your skin, his eyes following your every move as you poured Cointreau into the cocktail glass and quietly waited for him to leave you alone again. He didn't budge, however, and when he realised that you intended to keep your silence, he quietly asked, "...How are you doing?"

"Great," you said and pressed your lips firmly together.

"Good..." Out the corner of your eye, you could see his head bopping up and down as he took you in, "I - uhm - I always liked you in green, you know," he grinned cockily. You knew he was just acting this way to get your attention but annoyingly enough; it was working for him. His comment made you dart your eyes towards him, shooting him an unimpressed sigh that he reciprocated with a careful smile, anxious to see if his compliment had tugged at your heartstrings. But even though his words had made your head dizzy and your diaphragm contract considerably, you still managed to keep a straight face as you took him in. His gaze was soft and satisfied, and a strange feeling hit your guts when you looked into his green eyes for the first time in over three years. Seeing the familiarity of his overly confident gaze made you realise that he hadn't exactly turned into the destructive villain that you had made him out to be after he had moved to New York three years ago. Behind the masculine beard and the buzzcut, the jokester with the soft chin and the long quiff was still in there. Your Rafa was still in there, and for a tenth of a second it made your heart ache as you wished for a time that he had long ago ruined.

He had clearly realised that you were checking him out because slowly, yet surely, his smirk grew considerably while he maintained eye-contact. It made you furious! He. Did. Not. Have. The. Upper. Hand. Taking in your angry expression, he shifted the weight on his feet while giving out a low chuckle, "I guess what I mean to tell you is that you look good. Like really good! - even when you're fuming."

"You look old," you stated flatly to make him stop feeling so overly confident.

To your dismay, however, he wasn't the least bit hurt by your comment but instead spluttered happily and let out a loud laugh, making the crow's feet around his green irises dance around as his eyes squinted tightly together in amusement. He looked irritatingly handsome, and it made you even more annoyed with him; he wasn't supposed to be amused by your low blow, he was supposed to be devastated!

You chewed your bottom lip as he annoyingly confident ran a hand through his beard and took you in with his forever playful smile. The fairy lights surrounding the self-service bar caught something shiny around his wrist as he caressed his chin, and you recognised the piece of metal immediately. It made you scoff, "you really still have that?" You nodded towards the golden band around his arm that you had given him for his 25th birthday some years ago. Even though it had been quite expensive, you'd figured that he had thrown it out long ago.

"You're kidding me?" He said incredulously, furrowing his brows and fiddling with the shiny links around his arm, "of course I still have this! It means a lot to me, I wear it every day!" He sent you a tentative smile, once again checking to see if he was so lucky that his words had defrosted you.

He wasn't.

"What?" He asked with an amused twinkle in his eyes when he took in your unimpressed face, "I swear; It's one of my most treasured possessions."

"Rafael... Just..." You let out a small sigh and folded your arms across your chest, "- just drop the pleasantries and tell me why you're really here," you demanded, "I highly doubt you're here to small talk."

"Aw come on - I'm just here for Nat's party. I didn't come to stir shit up. I promise!" He looked at you with honest eyes, still with a trace of a smile on his lips.

"Then why are you attacking me at the drinks table?" You were surprised to hear how steady you managed to keep your voice when it felt as if your entire body was shaking.

"I just wanted to say hi," he shot you a careful look, taking in every movement of your facial muscles, "You've been avoiding me all day."

"Wonder why," you clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth, looking away from him.

"I know it seems like an unnecessary question but are you still angry with me?" He asked, his smile still in place but suddenly a bit stiff.

"I was angry at first. Now I don't really care about you anymore," you smiled overly-sweetly.

"Yeah okay," Rafa's stiff smile faltered a bit and it looked as if you'd finally managed to knock him slightly off his course. This probably wasn't how he had imagined the conversation to go. It was a nice feeling to see him slightly panicked. "Ehm..." he smacked his lips, "would you like me to leave?"

"Yes," you breathed, but even you could hear the thickness of the lie in your throat. Even though you were keen on keeping your distance to him, you were still terribly curious as to why he had passed you up three years after your horrible break-up. After all, it had ended in lies and angry tears.

His smirk turned amused, and he could barely hold back a triumphant chuckle when he spoke, "I can tell you're not being serious," he tilted his head to the side.

"My God, you are insufferable!" you said through gritted teeth, "just tell me why you're here!"

"Well..." he licked his lips before he slowly stated, "Sofía's pregnant."

He had barely finished pronouncing the word pregnant before you felt the blood immediately drain from your face. "You're... having a baby?" You breathed and blinked a few times, bracing yourself for his answer. After everything that had happened, you couldn't believe that the mental image of Rafa with someone else was still able to make your stomach ache horribly, and you were immediately reminded of the fact that you hadn't left him because you had fallen out of love with him.

"Am I having a...-? Oh God no!" He laughed when he understood, "Sofía as in my sister! My sister is pregnant! I'm about to be an uncle. Tio Rafa."

You felt a wave of relief wash over you when his words finally settled, and the blood quickly returned to your cheeks making them unbearably hot. "Well, congratulations then, I guess," you mumbled, trying to conceal your flustered face.

"Thanks!" He smiled proudly and put on a goofy expression.

"I still fail to see what your sister's pregnancy has to do with me."

"Well, you see..." he licked his lips, "Sofía and her boyfriend are constantly talking about baby-stuff, and who in their lives are important to them, and insurances, and dying wills, and things like that - and I guess it kinda made me think about stuff in my life too," he gave out an awkward shrug, shooting you a careful look, "you know... Unresolved matters and so on..."

"...and then you thought about me?" You scoffed.

"Yeah," he nodded carefully, "I miss you."

"Rafael..." you closed your eyes and sighed in disbelief.

"Oof," he winced and it made you open your eyes and look at him. "- could you stop calling me that?" He looked pained, "It's - it's weird!"

"Well it is your name, isn't it?"

"I know, I know... Hearing it from you is just - it's just weird..." he mumbled while rubbing his neck, "only strangers call me by my first name."

"We're practically strangers."

"We are?" He looked taken aback.

You shot him a sideways glance, "yes, we are Rafael," you sighed and watched how his nostrils did an involuntary twitch at the sound of his given name.

He merely grunted while shooting you a weird look.

"What?" You asked incredulously, "you don't agree?"

"No. No, not at all," he shook his head, "I know you."

"Not anymore you don't," you turned back to your drink, stirring it a little just to give your shaking hands something to do.

"I know every freckle of your body..." he said quietly, his voice so full of emotion that it made your heart ache. "I know why you have a scar on your left knee," he continued, "I know all your guilty pleasures. What makes you tick. Your likes. Your dislikes. Of course I realise that we didn't end optimally but you can't pretend that we don't know each other," he ran a hand through his beard.

As soon as the words had escaped his mouth, you shot him an angry look, "we didn't end optimally?!" You hissed at him, "well, it was your fucking choice to end it that way, wasn't it?"

"Ah, so you are still mad at me," He stated flatly, taking in your expression.

You managed to turn off some of the fire you felt in your eyes before you spoke, "No I'm not, Rafael. As I said, I don't care about you at all," you said coldly, "Is that all? Can I go back to my best friend's birthday party now, or are you in the mood to ruin yet another one of my nights?" You shot him a deadpan look.

"I can't force you to talk to me," he said quietly, his eyes huge with disappointment.

"What do you even want to talk about?" Your voice was laced with frustration, "it's been three years! I've moved on - I don't need this, Rafa!" You wanted to smack yourself when you realised that you had let his pet name slip.

"I just want to apologise. Properly..." he said quietly while awkwardly rubbing his elbow, decent enough to let the use of his nickname slide.

"Apologising is not going to change what happened."

"I know... but you still deserve a proper apology from the guy who hurt you."

You gave out a scoff but didn't say anything.

"Look," Rafa continued, "can you please just give me ten minutes alone with you? Some place quiet. Ten minutes and I swear, I'll never talk to you again if you don't want me to. I just want to tell you how sorry I am. I think we both need it."

You weighed the pros and cons. Maybe it would actually be good for you to get some closure so you could finally forget about him? You decided that you might as well try. It'd be nice to stop thinking about him for good. "Fine! You have ten minutes and not a second more!" you said sternly, "but let me be very clear about one thing: I am not doing this for you!"

"I know," he nodded slowly, and followed you to a deserted bench a little away from the rest of the party.

He sat down next to you with a content sound, "Cig?" he asked while holding out a crumbled package.

"I quit," you pushed the package away, your fingers briefly brushing over his. It made him smile slightly but he quickly concealed it by clearing his throat.

"Good for you," Rafa nodded while lighting a cigarette for himself, taking a long drag while looking at you. "So..." he said quietly, "I hear that you finally landed that job you used to work so hard for."

"If you just wanted to smoke cigarettes and small talk, we didn't have to go all the way back here," you crossed your arms.

"Tough crowd," he laughed, "come on. Just humour me for a bit... I miss talking to you."

You scoffed, "you have nine minutes and fourty-five seconds left, Casal."

"Nine minutes and fourty-five seconds," he nodded in agreement, "so... that job of yours - congratulations! Your hard work finally paid off, huh?" He tried again.

"Have you been stalking my linked-in?" You said sourly.

"Nah, Diggs gives me little updates," Rafa chuckled awkwardly, "-or he did for a while at least. Up until about a year ago when he got real angry with me," Rafa clenched his teeth tightly together, looking uncomfortable.

"Diggs got angry?" You said in disbelief. Out of the two, Rafa was definitely the hot-headed one.

"Oh shit, yeah!" He nodded with a laugh, "I know it's hard to believe because it's such a rare occurrence but that just made it so much scarier! For a second, I thought he would punch me in the face!"

"Well, that should teach you to keep your abnormally large nose out of my business," you scoffed slightly.

"That's what he said too," Rafa chuckled, "-and that if I wanted to know how you were doing, I should give you a call myself," he sent you a small smile, "- but I knew you would have my balls in a wrench if I suddenly called you up out of the blue."

"Correct."

He smiled, "yet here we are. Talking quietly without screaming at each other. My balls free as ever."

"You're lucky I left my wrench at home today, Casal."

He let out an amused snort and took another drag of the cigarette, "yeah, I can't believe my luck this evening," he smiled without looking at you, "hey, while we're on the subject of updates; I - uhm - I also want to let you know that I heard about your dad. I was very sad to learn about his passing."

You felt a sharp pain in your chest, and you held your arms a little closer to your chest, "Diggs told you about that too, huh?" You mumbled, unable to look Rafa in the eye. Even though little over two years had passed since your dad had died, thinking about him still hurt.

You felt Rafa nod beside you, "Yeah. He called me right after it happened... I know your dad meant a great deal to you. Meant a great deal to me too to be honest..." he sighed.

"I know..." you thought of the special bond the two men had always shared. Even long before you and Rafa had fallen in love, your dad had hoped that you would end up together.

"I was seconds away from flying home to see him off at the funeral, you know - but given how you and I ended things, I didn't think you should deal with me on top of losing your dad..." he shot you a sideways glance.

You decided not to tell Rafa about how you had woken up on the morning of the funeral, wishing that he had been there. Wishing that everything had magically gone back to normal overnight. Instead, you merely mumbled, "you should've come. My dad would've loved that... He always liked you."

"Yeah, I liked him too," Rafa nodded, "I still think about him every time I hear a terrible joke or see someone in a Laker's shirt."

"Oh god, all those fucking shirts," you groaned and thought of the hundreds of basketball shirts that your dad had had stacked neatly away in his closet. You couldn't believe that you had completely forgotten about them.

Rafa chuckled, "what did you end up doing with them? I imagine that you donated them in your dad's spirit."

"Naturally," you nodded and felt yourself uncross your arms for the first time since you'd sat down. "My mom kept one, and the orphanage got most but we auctioned off the rarest ones and gave the money to charity. That was what he wanted, you know."

"Ah, what an icon," Rafa sighed, "well, you should be proud of him and the work he did for the community. He was a great man. A proper role model for the bay."

You nodded in agreement while scanning Rafa. It was nice to talk about your dad with someone who knew him but who hadn't seen him fragile and sick. Someone who didn't think of him as his diagnosis, and you realised that for the first time since his passing, things actually seemed fairly back to normal. Sitting side by side with Rafa actually felt welcome and normal. Maybe you'd grant him a couple of minutes more of your time.

Rafa's eyes skirted away from you, and he nervously cleared his throat before he continued, "Uhm... not that it matters but did you - did you ever tell him about what happened between us?"

"My dad? No..." you shook your head with a sad sigh, "he loved you like his own son, and I didn't want to break his heart. So I just told him that we couldn't make the whole long distance-thing work."

"Oh, right... Thanks," Rafa nodded.

"I didn't do it for you."

"Still... I'm glad he didn't get to know that side of me. I'm not so sure he would've liked me if he'd known the truth about how I broke his daughter's heart."

"I'm not so sure either..."

"I - I hated myself after, you know," He looked over at you with a pained expression after a couple of seconds of silence, "I have never regretted anything more in my entire life."

"What? Not going to the funeral?"

"No. You know... What I did..." he said sheepishly.

"Oh..."

"The minute I woke up I - I wanted to undo everything," he looked at you pleadingly, "I felt so fucking terrible. Still do. I can't even think about it without wanting to stab myself. It is without a doubt the worst thing I have ever done, and I am so sorry for the pain it caused you," he said softly, "please understand that I didn't do it because I didn't love you. It wasn't because you weren't enough or something like that. You were perfect to me. I take full responsibility for the fuck-up, and I am so, so horribly fucking sorry!"

"Rafa, it's..." you gulped, the words somehow stuck in your throat. You were having a hard time acting as if his words meant nothing to you.

He carefully put his hand on top of yours before he continued, "do you think we would've been able to work around the long distance if I hadn't...?"

"Please don't..." you whispered and sent him a soft yet warning look, "I don't want to talk about what might've been."

"No, no of course not..." he nodded quietly, "I just - I can't believe it's been three years... Fuck baby I've missed you so bad," he carefully moved his thumb over the back of your hand and searched your face with furrowed eyebrows, "You have no idea of the relief I felt when I finally saw you today," he said quietly.

"Don't do this..." you closed your eyes and whispered.

Rafa continued as if he hadn't heard you, "I know we didn't work out the way neither of us pictured it but that doesn't mean you weren't the best thing that's ever happened to me..." he sounded desperate, and you couldn't look at him. The words he was saying was making you want to fall into his arms, "...I never should've let you go."

"Rafa," you sighed and summoned all your strength and looked into his glossy eyes, "you didn't let me go," your voice barely a whisper, "I broke up with you."

"I know, I know," his voice was oozing with pain, "but I hope you realise that I would've done everything to win you back. I would've come back to California if you'd only asked me to. Fuck the record deal."

"There was a reason why I didn't ask you to come back," you shot him a glance in warning, "you know that."

"Still, I should have done... something."

"You did exactly what I asked of you."

"Yeah... I stayed the fuck away from you," he mumbled. You could tell that he was replaying your last tearful conversation in his mind before he heaved a big gulp of air and glanced over at you with a valiant look in his eyes, "but I've come back to remind you who I really am."

"You don't have to remind me of anything... I remember who you were. What we had."

"Then let me be that guy for you again," he looked at you pleadingly.

"What's the point when you're still 3,000 miles away?" You sighed, "It's not as if we'll happen upon each other at the supermarket and go out for spontaneous coffees."

"Could be," he said with a small shrug, "I - uh - I'm moving back," he nervously ran his fingers through his short hair, "I want to be close to Sofía and the baby - and you."

"You're coming home?" You gulped. You couldn't believe him. Was this a good thing?

"Yes," he breathed, "And I want to try things out with you again. Please give me another chance..." his fingers moved from your hand to your knee. You briefly considered his words while you felt his thumb caress you through the green fabric of your dress. Right now, you were fighting hard to not give in to his embrace and the familiar set of lips in front of you, but you weren't sure how you'd feel about it come morning, so you remained poised.

He sensed your hesitation, however, and carefully put his forehead to yours "come on, baby," he said quietly and softly kissed your cheek, his lips warm against your skin.

"I don't know," you gulped as you involuntarily closed your eyes and breathed him in.

"It's okay," he said with whispered words, the stubble on his chin rough against your cheekbone, "you don't have to give me an answer right away," he gently kissed your jawline while his hand travelled from your kneecap to your fingertips, clearly desperate to remind you of what you could have back if you only agreed to let him in again.

"Rafa, I don't know," you said quietly although it was becoming harder and harder to remain steadfast and ignore his burning lips on your skin.

"Just consider it," he kissed the corner of your mouth, "I'll crawl. I'll beg," he whispered and pursed his lips against yours, "I'll do anything," he moved his body closer to yours, "just consider it," he whispered and placed a particularly gentle kiss to your already buzzing lips, "please baby."

You couldn't help yourself any longer and you involuntarily twitched your lips against his before you felt yourself being completely engulfed by him. The passionate kiss you shared was soft and bittersweet, reminding both of you of what had been.

His hands were caressing your neck and hairline and he hummed into your mouth as he savoured the feeling of finally having you kiss him back. "Fuck I've missed this," he gulped when he broke away and put his forehead to yours, his hand still on your cheek, "does this mean you'll at least consider it?"

"I'm still angry with you," you whispered without really answering his question.

"I know, love..." he caressed your cheek, "I was stupid," he searched your face, "it was a stupid mistake."

"Don't reduce it to a stupid mistake, Rafa," you whispered.

"Poor choice of words," he mumbled, "what I mean to say is that I hope you can forgive it," he placed a soft kiss to your jawline, "- forgive me."

"Even if I did forgive you, how do you expect me to ever trust you again?" You said quietly, and you knew that you couldn't dance around the elephant in the room any longer. "Rafa you had another girl's lips wrapped around your dick not even twenty-four hours after crying in my arms at the airport," you said with a heavy heart and watched him cringe his face at the harsh truth, "twenty-four after you'd sworn you'd do anything to make our relationship work despite the distance."

Rafa was still wincing when he spoke, "not that it's any excuse at all but I was exhausted and drunk and heartbroken," he croaked, "I had just left the love of my life behind in California... and this other girl was suddenly there and she got me high as balls and she-" he sighed without finishing his own sentence, "trust me when I say that it was the worst night of my life," he closed his eyes in a sad attempt at holding the tears at bay.

"Well at least you got a nice blowjob out of it." You smiled humourlessly, "I just wound up with all the lies you threw in my face."

"I never lied to you..." he mumbled, "I came clean as soon as you confronted me."

"How big of you!" you scoffed.

"Baby... I didn't tell you because I was so embarrassed," he gulped, the tears now evident under his green irises, "I wanted to throw myself off a cliff! I knew that if I told you, it would be the definite end of us," he looked at you with huge, bloodshot eyes, "I couldn't do that."

"I need you to understand that the worst part of it wasn't that you cheated on me. The worst part was that you pretended that nothing had happened at all," you couldn't tell whether the tears you felt in the corners of your eyes were from being angry or sad, "Imagine how dumb I felt when Diggs finally broke down and told me what you'd done," you said and Rafa suddenly couldn't hold back the tears any longer either.

"I wanted to tell you. Trust me, I wanted to," he sobbed.

"You had three weeks to say something to me for fuck's sake!"

"I'm so sorry," he whimpered.

"We facetimed every night for three weeks and you didn't say anything! You made a complete fool of me!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" his eyes fixed at his own feet.

"Rafa, look at me!" you said in a harsh tone of voice.

Immediately, his red eyes found yours. He looked as ashamed of himself as he possibly could, "I was a coward," he whimpered, "-and I knew didn't deserve you."

"Then what makes you think you deserve me now?" You said coldly.

"I have spent the last three years trying to forget about you and what happened but no matter what I do, you still linger in the back of my mind. Even after all this time you're the only one I can ever see myself with. I always return to you. On sleepless nights, you're dancing on the back of my eyelids. I see you in other girls when I pass them by on the street. You're in all my poetry. All my songs. I think about you constantly. Maybe I don't deserve you but I at least had to try."

"Rafa you broke my heart," you looked him dead in the eye and he visibly gulped, "you betrayed my trust and you did it in the most despicable way I could ever imagine. It's been three years and I still cannot believe that you of all people would do that to me. You were my ride or die."

"I can still be that," he said desperately, clinging on to the last bit of hope he had in him, "I'm still that guy! The guy who cheated on you that wasn't me! I wasn't myself! I'm aware of the agony it caused, and trust me: I've learned from my mistakes," he looked at you resolutely before he whispered, "I'm still your ride or die."

His words made your stomach hurt and you felt the heat rise throughout your body as your throat clenched tightly together. You felt suffocated and stood up from the bench so fast that black spots distorted your vision. "I can't do this!" you said desperately, "it's too much!"

"Okay," he gulped, looking up at you with desperation written across his face.

"I have to go back to the party. Nat expects me to be there for her."

"Alright," he gulped. He was having a hard time concealing his obvious disappointment.

"Don't look at me like that!" you whimpered, "what did you expect? That you could shed a few tears and everything would be alright again?"

"No, of course not..."

"Then don't look so fucking disappointed! You're making me feel like the bad guy and I haven't even done anything!"

"I know," he gulped.

"Yet you still think a drunk conversation erases everything? That I will take you back just because you're feeling sorry? You obviously don't realise the damage you caused."

"Then tell me!" He too stood up from his seat, "I want to make things alright again," he pleaded.

"I don't need you to make things alright again! I was doing just fine before you showed up!"

"Okay, I'm sorry," he sheepishly picked at his own elbow, "I just thought that maybe you felt the same way about me."

"I don't want you back!" You said roughly.

As soon as the harsh words had escaped your lips, you could see the heartbreak on his face; his cheeks paled, his lips quivered, a single tear left his right eye as he looked away. He ran his hand over the corners of his mouth, unable to look directly at you, "right," he said as a fresh set of tears formed in his eyes, "I'm sorry... I - uh - I had to try,” he sobbed although he was fighting to hold his voice steady, “I - uhm - I don't know what to say…”

"Don't say anything..."

"...so this is it?" His eyes found yours, "...for good?"

You nodded slowly but didn't say anything.

You watched how he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly without any words escaping him. He looked flustered, panicked almost when you turned around and stepped away from him. You could hear him panic-shift around behind you but he still didn't talk. He had probably expected you to take him back with open arms - anything but this!

Good. He deserved to fry a little.

And maybe you'd call him tomorrow. Just maybe.

#Rafael Casal #rafael casal x reader #Daveed Diggs #blindspotting #rafael casal fanfiction #rafael casal imagine #Bay boys

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melk917 · 3 years

Text

But If Santa Could Do It... (So Could the Grinch)

Warnings: So much swearing, so much spanking, p in v sex, lots and lots of Nevada running his mouth and narrating extreme filth, mentions of SantaCon

Rating: E

Pairings: Nevada Ramirez x f!Reader

WC: 3,847

A/N: Ticking off the 'Grinch' square on the last day of @storiesofsvu's Holiday Bingo! By request of @thatesqcrush. I hope you enjoy!

So, for those of you who don't know, SantaCon is a horrible day, where thousands of drunk people dress as slutty Santas and get absolutely obliterated drunk in NYC. It's literally the worst, and while I applaud the business sense of the reader here, Nevada is 1000% justified, LOL. (Also, pls suspend your disbelief that they would be partying as far up as Washington Heights, loll).

And lastly, for those who might not know, "Bridge and Tunnel" refers to those who commute into NYC for work & pleasure. It is 100% used pejoratively in almost every context, and Nevada is less than thrilled to find his club filled with them.

While it might have been cold and snowy outside, inside the club it was sweltering. The air was thick and humid with the tight pack of bodies, the ebb and flow of the room throbbing with the bass like it was the pulse of the party. It was like you had conjured the Caribbean to the Heights, instead of the depths of December.

But it fit with the theme–Santa’s Workshop After Hours. You had taken shameless advantage of Santa Con, leaning into the inevitable drunken shit show that the Bridge and Tunnel crowd brought with them every year to separate them from even more of their money. There were drink specials, signature cocktails, and costumes, all designed to match the decorations that had turned El Trujillo’s club into a debauched Winter Wonderland. The fake snow crunched under foot while the reserved booths were made up to look like toy shop work benches. Even the poles that more than one ill-advised patron had danced on were turned into oversized candy canes.

It was a room filled with future bad decisions, and you were only too happy to capitalize on that.

Sweat was dripping down your back despite the barely-there elf costume you wore, little more than a bra with a frilly skirt that threatened to flash your panties every time you reached for a bottle to pour the next drink. It was that promise that kept the orders coming in, Jersey bro after Jersey bro leaning over the bar to place his order and see if he could catch a glimpse. They’d smirk, orders coming in along with all manner of other offers for ways to spend your break, where he could take you when you got off your shift… You’d take their cash with a flutter of your lashes and a teasing smile… and then turn to the next idiot.

You were so busy filling drinks, you didn’t notice when the crowd around the bar parted, noise rolling back to a muted roar as patrons backed off, making room as the King himself appeared, stalking through the press of people, a literal black cloud in the sea of red and green.

Mari noticed first, eyes widening and elbowing you at the register. You looked up and she jerked her head at the end of the bar. Nevada was standing there, shoulders back, legs spread wide, arms crossed, and glowering. His irritation was flowing off him in waves, sending ripples into the crowd around him as a warning. Even the Jersey Shore meatheads next to him were giving him a wide berth, sensing that any encroachment would end poorly for them.

He met your eyes, his own gaze dark and pointed, mouth twisted in a frown.

“I thought you said you cleared this,” Mari muttered, her voice shaking slightly, eyes flicking from Nevada to you and back. One of the meatheads to Nevada’s left got jostled by his friends and bumped into him. The drunk idiot swung around like he was going to make trouble but took one look at the furious set of Nevada’s jaw and slunk back into the crowd.

You laughed weakly. “Uh, it’s possible I used that term loosely.”

Mari’s eyes widened as Nevada pointed at you and jerked his head in the direction of the balcony.

You flinched. “Ah, I guess I’m going on break.”

You ducked out from under the bar, missing how Mari crossed herself before turning away and back to the thirsty crowd.

Nevada’s grip was tight as he grabbed your arm and pulled you close, lips to your ear. “We need to have a chat,” he hissed, using his hold to drag you off the floor, practically marching you up the stairs to his private balcony.

“What the fuck is all this?” He spun you around, one hand still tight on your arm, the other pointing accusingly out over the crowd.

Huffing you shook him off, stepping to the side so you could turn and face him, arms crossed, eyebrows raised, and an unamused twist to your lips. “The bar has been losing money, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

His mouth tightened and his eyes flashed dangerously at your tone, but you pressed on before he could open his mouth and snarl at you. “Patronage was down, so I brought them back with something fun. Captured the spirit of the season.”

“So you turned my club into Santa’s fucking Workshop?” he ground out, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at the crowd, an ever bumping sea of Santa hats and slutty reindeer.

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, ok, Mr. Grinch.” Nevada narrowed his eyes, fingers curling into a fist at his side. You heaved an exasperated sigh. “It’s a party! It’s fun! Look at how many people are out there.”

You waved your arm out to encompass the whole of the club, packed nearly wall to wall with customers still aware enough to be buying drinks, but definitely way too drunk to register the bar tab.

“That’s not what this bar is,” he fumed, furious at the campy nightmare around him. “We don’t do the fuckin’ North Pole and and fake snow and shit.” He leaned into your personal space, crowding you and poking you in the chest. “We do reggaeton, cheap drinks, and drunken mistakes. No goddamn holiday parties.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure people are still making drunken mistakes in dark corners…”

“No. Fuckin’. Holiday parties!” He threw his hands in the air, cursing under his breath.

You snorted. His eyes flashed in warning and you rolled yours again.

“Oh, come on, ‘Vada. We’ve done more business in the last three hours than we did all of last week.”

That drew him up short. He rocked back on his heels, considering. “It’s not even 11:30.”

Your lips twitched and you leaned a casual hip on the balustrade, crossing your arms. “Yeah,” you drawled, “I know.”

“We don’t close till 4.” His eyes flickered as he did the math in his head.

Your small smile turned smug and you straightened your shoulders, pushing your chest out and preening. “I bet I’m looking really good to you right now, huh?”

He turned to actually look at you for the first time that night, gaze raking down your body slowly, taking in your outfit. He lingered on the curve of your breasts as you stood with your chest out, crossed arms pushing them up even more, before dragging lower, across your exposed stomach, the tiny green skirt, to where your garter belt was digging into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding up some terribly garish red and white striped thigh-highs.

He licked his lips, brows pulled together in a near frown. “The fuck are you wearing?”

You did a little spin, causing the skirt to flare up and flash the barely-there, white lace panties you were wearing at him. “I’m one of Santa’s elves. Don’t you like it?”

He crossed his arms, lips pressed in a thin line. “I’d like it better if all those fuckin’ Bridge and Tunnel pendejos out there weren’t getting a free show.”

You pouted, ducking your chin so you could look up at him through your lashes. “Aw, come on now. They tip better when they like what they’re looking at.”

You slid into his personal space, tugging on his crossed arms until he dropped them, letting you press firm against his chest as you leaned up to whisper low in his ear. “But you’re the only one who gets to touch, Papi.”

He growled, hands dipping under the flare of your skirt to grasp your ass and yank your hips hard against his, kneading the curves with strong fingers. “Damn-fuckin’-right I am.”

You laughed and wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your breasts firm to his chest, leaning up so your lips brushed his in a tease. “So then. Tell me how good I look.”

He huffed, fingers dipping low between your legs to play across the damp fabric of your panties, making you shiver against him.

“Oh, princesa,” his breath ghosted warm across your lips as he sighed out his taunt. He smelled like rum and coconut from the coquito, and you were sure if you licked into his mouth, he’d be sweet from the condensed milk, but he pulled back before you could find out. “You really bring in that much money from this hellhole of a fuckin’ party, and I’ll see about compliments.”

You barked a laugh, leaning back to roll your eyes at him, palms resting warm on his chest.

“Careful, Nevada,” you warned, lips twitching, fingers tapping his sternum where his chest hair was curling over the top of his undershirt, “you keep being generous like that and people will start to think that shriveled heart of yours grew three sizes.”

He growled, eyes flashing with amusement. “I’ll fuckin’ show you what can grow three sizes.”

You yelped and laughed as he dipped from the knees and lifted you with him as he backed to the couch, dropping back and pulling you into his lap, your knees on either side of his hips.

“Oh yeah?” you teased, rolling your hips forward to drag over the growing hardness in his pants. “I’m not sure you can claim three whole sizes…”

You earned a sharp swat on one cheek in response, making you jerk and laugh breathlessly as he pulled you in close, scraping his teeth down your neck.

“Turn around so you can sit all proper on Santa’s lap.”

You chuckled, arching your back to press your breasts up further in his face, tempting him. “Oh, so now you’ve got the holiday spirit, Santa?”

He ducked low to mouth at the curve of them, nipping at the soft flesh even as his hands slid down to grip your thighs, snapping the garter belt against your skin and making your breath hitch as you squirmed against him.

“Yeah, ‘cept my elves keep misbehavin’.”

You laughed and he smirked, wrapping his hands around your hips to pull you down as he rocked up, the hard press of his cock obvious through his jeans. A soft sound fell from your lips and he rocked up again, kneading your flesh before laying another quick smack across one cheek, the sting making you groan as heat flared in you.

“Now, turn the fuck around and tell me if you’ve been naughty or nice.”

You arched a brow at him, but swung your legs over so your back was to his front and leaned forward, flipping your skirt up to tease the full curve of your ass at him, white lace panties cut to reveal more than they hid.

He growled, hands gripping tight at your hips and pulling you back hard against him using his thighs to spread your own wide. He had you there, fully exposed across his lap, running warm palms up and down your thighs. His fingers played across the edge of your stockings, along the garter straps, stroking the soft skin high up near the juncture of your hip, but every time he’d get close to where you were wet and hungry for his touch, he’d slip away, leaving you empty and increasingly desperate.

You groaned softly, rocking your hips into his hold, trying to shift him where you wanted him, but he was stubborn. Instead, he slipped his fingers into the tops of your stockings, stroking your skin as he pressed a wet kiss to the base of your neck.

“Well, hermosa? Have you been a good girl this year? Or have you made trouble?”

His voice was a low rumble that vibrated through you, making your blood flash hot and your pussy clench, a rush of slickness soaking your panties and turning the white fabric translucent.

“What happens if I’ve only made trouble?”

He chuckled and your breath caught as he pressed his teeth to your skin in response. He ran the tip of his nose up your neck to nuzzle behind your ear before nipping sharply at the curve, the sting making you arch against him and gasp.

“Are you asking what happens to bad girls?” His breath ghosted over the abused skin and you shivered.

You reached back to tangle your fingers in his hair, turning your face to nuzzle at his hairline, running your lips across his cheek as you ground your hips against him. “We both know how good I am, ‘Vada.”

He couldn’t hide the hard twitch of his cock where it was pressed to the curve of your ass at the dark promise in your tone. You rewarded him with a roll of your hips, a slow grind along his length that had his fingers digging into the soft skin of your thighs hard enough to bruise.

“Fuckin’ prove it.” He dragged his nails hard along the exposed skin of your thighs making you gasp and moan at the hot flair of pleasure-pain that curled up your nerves. “Show Papi just how good you can be.”

He wrapped strong fingers around the hand you had in his hair and dragged it between the two of you, pressing it hard to the hot bulge of his cock still trapped in his pants. You closed your fingers around it reflexively, rubbing your thumb over the sensitive head through the fabric until he groaned, rocking up into your hold.

You glanced up through your lashes to see his eyes on you, dark and intense. You licked your lips, cheeks hot as he dropped his gaze to track the flash of tongue.

With his hand still tight around your wrist, you tugged on the tab of his zipper, lowering it tooth by tooth, until his fly parted. You couldn’t help it, your gaze dropped to look at him, and you groaned. He had forgone underwear, thick cock exposed, flushed and fully hard, tip slick and shining with precum, framed perfectly in the V of his open pants.

“Oye, princesa, it’s not just for looking, eh?”

You snorted and when you met his eyes again he was smirking back at you, completely unrepentant.

“Oh, don’t worry. I can think of a few uses for all this.” You traced a barely-there path from the tip to where he disappeared into his pants, making him shiver. It was your turn to smirk as you tugged on the top of his pants, until you could pull him out completely, length flagging from the heft and weight, tip catching on his hip and leaving a sticky smear of precum.

His breath caught on a sigh as the pressure on his cock eased, followed by a groan when you had him shifting his hips as you gave him a single stroke.

“Coño,” he swore, rocking into your grip. “Fuckin’ put it to use then.”

He grunted as you released him. Biting your lip and throwing a sly smirk over your shoulder, you lifted your hips, flipping your skirt up and slowly pulling your panties to the side. You arched your back further and used your other hand to part your pussy, running a finger back and forth through the slick smeared there, showing off.

“Well, come on then, Santa. Sit me back on the North Pole.”

“Fuckin–”

Whatever the rest of his objection was going to be was cut off as you grasped him and slid back on his cock in one, smooth thrust. Your breath caught, choking on a groan at the stretch, the pleasured burn sending heat rolling through your body from where you were joined to your fingertips.

He swore, his hands flying to your hips and gripping tight, holding you hard against him as he flexed his hips, grinding up.

“Oh, fuck.” You moaned, rocking in his lap, clenching around his thick length as the thick head hit that place deep inside that made your nerves sing.

He cursed, thighs shaking under you as he fought for control. “So fuckin’ tight. Shit.”

He slipped one hand around your hip, long fingers brushing against where you were joined as you rocked up, gathering up the mess you were making on his cock.

“Oh, eres tan mojada, eh, princesa?” He dragged his fingers across your lips, pressing until you parted them, tongue flicking out to taste yourself on him, curling around his knuckles and moaning as you ground down against him.

“All this, just for me, eh?” He growled, hooking his fingers over your jaw and pulling your head back as he slammed his hips up. Your groan was muffled around his hand as you sucked eagerly, hollowing your cheeks and mouthing at the digits like they were his cock.

“Fuckin’ show me. Show me it’s all mine. Show me how good you are.”

You arched your back, hands falling to his thighs to hold on as you lifted and and slammed your hips back, taking his cock deep and grinding, greedily chasing the hot, bright flash of pleasure each deep thrust set off in you, making you shake and clench around him.

You had him swearing, forehead pressed to your back as he worked his hips in counterpoint, gasping.

“Ah, shit.”

He yanked his fingers from your mouth as one strong hand pressed high on your back, shoving you forward, your ass tilted high in his lap as you were bent in half and rocked back on his cock. The impossibly impractical skirt of your costume was pushed high around your waist and he groaned at the sight of you bare, split wide around his cock.

“Fuck, yes, just like that.” His free hand came down hard across your ass, and you clenched around him with a groan as the pain mixed with the searing pleasure of his cock as it dragged over that spot inside you that made you see stars. “Yes, wanna see that ass bounce in my lap as you take my dick. Fuck.” He smacked you again, gripping the cheek hard to expose you further to his gaze.

“Fuck look at you split open on my cock.” He slipped his thumb next to where you were stretched tight around him, pressing against the edge of your opening as you took him deep, the added pressure making desire curl hot in your stomach, and you moaned, thrusting back harder, off rhythm.

“Oh yeah, good girl, good fuckin’ girl. Just like that.”

You whined, hands reaching back for him, wanting to feel him, anything to ground you, but he had you bent and off-balance, the only one in control. It wasn’t enough.

You scrambled around, breath coming in heavy pants, a desperate whimper curling in the back of your throat despite the fact that you were the one to slide off his cock. But you wanted more of him, wanted to lick into his mouth and taste the heat and spice from the utter filth that was spilling from his lips. Wanted to be able to thread your hands into his hair and hold him to you, wanted him to mark up the curve of your breasts with his teeth and leave his signature, dark and obvious, across your skin where anyone could see it.

Gasping, you crawled back into his lap and threw a leg over his hips, sinking back down on his cock. You threw your head back with a satisfied moan as you took him back to the hilt, stretched wide and stuffed full.

His breath was coming harsh through clenched teeth, growling. He slid his hand into your hair, wrapping the strands around his fingers and pulling tight as he fucked up into you with a sharp thrust that had you groaning and clenching around him.

“Fucking trouble.” His voice was rough, dark. “I liked the view I had.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and used his strong shoulders for leverage as you took him harder with each roll of your hips. “Good fucking trouble, though,” you gasped.

He arched his neck and groaned as you ground down in his lap. “Ah fuck. Yes. Good fuckin’ trouble.” He gripped your ass tight and yanked you down as he thrust up. “Oh, fuck yes, fuck gonna come.”

He yanked your head down with the hand still tight in your hair, pulling you into a harsh kiss, more teeth than anything else, breathing harshly into your mouth. “Gonna fucking fill you up and send you back down there, stuffed full of my cum. Let those fucking pendejos see me dripping down your legs so they know that you’re fuckin’ owned.”

You keened in response, his words sending desire curling through you, sharp and insistent, as you rocked against him. The base of his cock was pressed firm against your clit, every motion sending waves of white hot pleasure crashing over you, making you shake and ride him harder, faster.

His hands were everywhere, gripping and tugging, holding you so tight that you knew from experience you’d have bruises littered across your skin. The thought of those bruises on display for the rest of the night, his teeth along the base of your throat, his hand prints on your upper thighs with all that with his cum smeared across them… the image had you gasping, desperate, as his cock hit that place deep inside you that made you cry out and clench, orgasm punching through you with such a sudden force you swore you whited out, the noise of the club fading behind the blood roaring in your ears.

You were only vaguely aware of Nevada’s hoarse groan as the force of your orgasm dragged him over the edge, and he fucked deep, grinding up against you as he came, cock pulsing as he filled you with waves of his hot release.

You came back to yourself, limbs trembling with lingering pleasure, his hands stroking soothing lines down your back. You shifted and shuddered as his cock shifted inside your sensitive folds, still half hard, the thick head still brushing over that spot that sent sparks down your spent nerves. He groaned softly as you clenched down, rocking against you and you pressed a smile to his throat.

“Round two already, Santa? This gonna be the Miracle on 184th Street?”

He snorted and pinched your ass, making you jerk and laugh, which curled into a groan as you clenched around him again.

“Should’ve fucked that smart mouth instead.”

You laughed, pressing wet kisses up his neck to his jaw, biting at the hinge. “You love my smart mouth.”

He cupped your ass in his big hands, kneading the curve and pulling back so he could smirk up at you. “Yeah, love it stuffed full with my cock.”

“Fucking asshole.” You smiled affectionately down at him as you tugged lightly at his hair, earning a growl. His fingers slid inwards, ghosting over the tight curl of your hole and making you shiver at the hint of promise.

“Mm. Later, princesa. After you get this pretty ass back downstairs and show me just how much cash your Santa’s Workshop is gonna make me.”

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

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#nevada ramirez #nevada ramirez x reader #trouble in the heights #trouble in the heights fanfiction #storiesofsvuholidaybingo

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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

Text

His Good Sweater: Chapter 11 (NSFW)

Masterlist

IT’S THE MOMENT YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR BESTIES! Thanks as always to @acollectionofficsandshit I think I broke her with this chapter! She also found the song for this chapter so special thanks for that as well ❤

Word Count: 7.6k

Recommended song: “The Man Who Can’t be Moved” by the Script

The steam of the shower cleanses your senses and washes away the sweat from your workout. Crisp September air rushes through the open window and raises goosebumps on your skin as you step out. You turn off the tap and wrap yourself in a fluffy towel in an attempt to ward off the chill. A glance at the clock tells you that you have a half hour to get ready before your date picks you up.

Peter was one of the few guys in your major that paid you any attention. Most of them tolerated you at best but it had never bothered you. You were independent enough that you could make it through class on your own and google what you didn’t understand afterward and learn it before the exam.

It had been fairly easy to fall in with Peter and a few others during the first few weeks of summer classes. What began with group study sessions and quickly developed into hanging out one on one with Peter on the weekends to go to coffee shops or play video games.

When Peter had asked you out two months ago, Pierre's voice nagged in the back of your head. He asked if you were ready to move on from him and if you could really forget him.

The simple answer was no, forgetting him was impossible. No matter how many years passed, he would always own a part of you.

Peter was sweet and he cared about you but you were quickly realizing the bond you shared with him didn't run as deep as it had with Pierre. He started as your friend and you really didn't feel right letting it develop past that. Although you had agreed to that date and plenty more in the time since, it still didn’t feel like a relationship. You had to stop yourself from imagining someone else's arm around you when you lounged on the sofa or someone else's lips kissing you goodnight.

You slip into a form fitting red cocktail dress and sweep your hair over a shoulder, banishing the memory. The person staring back at you in the mirror is a stranger, a ghost of who you once were. You pull your lips into a smile nowhere near as bright as it was months ago.

A knock on your apartment door startles you from your trance. Peter holds a bouquet of flowers, a broad grin on his face. He was handsome in a traditional sense, with a sharp jawline and playful forest green eyes that promised a good time. He was adventurous; a night in wasn’t in the cards. Everything was an event with him and you didn’t mind the distractions one bit.

"You look amazing as always," he says, stepping inside and kissing your cheek. You sniff the flowers lightly. Daisies were some of your least favorite flowers but the gesture was too sweet to point that out.

"So do you," you respond, gaze sweeping from his scuffed wingtip shoes to his crisp blue button down shirt. Ocean blue, washed out against Peter's pale skin, but would have looked perfect on Pierre's golden complexion.

You had to stop thinking about him. You saw him everywhere. On more than one occasion, you dropped out of a conversation when you caught a glimpse of blond hair bobbing through a crowd or heard a laugh startlingly similar to his. You couldn’t escape the idea of him whether you liked it or not.

"Are you okay?" Peter asks, touching your elbow.

God, you were so far from okay. Your mind was a melted mess of memories of a blond Frenchman and all the broken promises between the pair of you. This was pointless. You were wasting your time with Peter. He was great and should have been everything you wanted but he just wasn't enough.

"I'm so sorry," you start, handing back the flowers. "I don't think this is going to work."

"Oh thank god," he says, shoulders drooping as he runs a hand through his hair. "I've been thinking the same thing, I just didn't want to be the one to say it." You both laugh, the tension ebbing from your frame.

"Don't get me wrong," he continues, "You're amazing. There's just no…"

"Spark," you finish. "Yeah, I agree. Friends?"

You stick out your hand and he shakes it firmly. "Sounds like a plan. No hard feelings. See you in class on Monday?"

"I'll be there."

You slip out of your heels with a sigh, glad you don't have to endure that form of torture any longer. For the first time in months, you allow yourself to scroll through Pierre's Instagram.

Instead of being flooded with personal pictures it had become mostly posed shoots.it was the kind of thing that seemed staged, like he was only posted because his PR team deemed it necessary.

As time went on the content became more and more clinical. He was giving fans less of an insight into his personal life and focusing on racing content. You knew he had probably thrown everything he had into the season in an attempt to move on and you couldn't blame him.

If his Insta was to be believed, he had earned a handful of podiums in the four months since you had mostly lost interest in the sport. After Austin it had been nearly impossible to watch a full race and you had instead been getting your biased updates from Max, who conveniently left out all but the barest details of anyone’s race weekend but his own.

There was no point in trying to convince yourself you no longer felt anything for Pierre. Just scrolling through his page reignites the flame in your chest that had been burning far too dimly for far too long.

Heart pounding, you double tap a photoset of him modeling for Alpha Tauri, the lighting accenting his eyes. Their distinct, rich blue had always been your weakness.

Your fingers find their way to the charm at your throat. You hadn't taken it off once since the gala. It was pointless to deny the sway he still held over you all these months later. Maybe it was time you stopped pretending you were fine and finally give in to the pull.

The past few months have given you plenty of time to reflect. The media would hound you like dogs but at least while you were in London they would leave your family alone. And really, enduring their scrutiny was a small price to pay if it meant loving Pierre.

“I’m an idiot,” you mumble, pulling up his contact in your phone. Breaking up with him had been the dumbest decision of your life. You’d watched him from afar as he traveled from grand prix to grand prix, touring cities and sleeping everywhere except where he belonged: curled up next to you in your tiny London flat, whispering sweet nothings in your ear until you both fell asleep.

You couldn’t bear it any longer. Fuck what anyone would say. Nothing could be worse than knowing your soulmate was out there and you let him go.

Heart pounding, you type out a text. I miss you.

Shaking your head, you erase it. How are you? Seemed more appropriate.

"Here goes nothing," you murmur and hit send.

**********

It started off as any other free Sunday did: Charles and Charlotte arriving at his apartment carrying snacks and beer which neither of them would tell their trainers about tomorrow and plopping in front of the television to watch the PSG match.

The trio roared at the screen at poor calls and yelled when a goal was scored, all completely lost in the sport.

Pierre absently registers his phone buzzing during the last few minutes of the match but ignores it. PSG comes out on top and he finally checks it, nearly choking on the pretzels he was eating.

How are you?

Pierre has to read it thrice before he’s convinced it’s real.

"Holy fuck," he says softly, tipping the phone so Charles can see.

"Told you mate." He takes Charlotte's hand and stands. Football match completely forgotten, Pierre lifts a hand in a wave as the couple leaves. His eyes are fixed on the screen as he tries to comprehend the gravity your words carry.

After months of waiting in agony and wondering if you still cared, you’d texted him.

He had no idea how he managed to keep his feet on the floor. He was completely weightless, reading your message over and over again until it sinks in.

He takes the three simple words as permission to finally delve back into your life, immediately scrolling through your instagram to catch up. He double taps every post save for the ones with you and some tall, handsome guy. His stomach twists.

Fuck it. Even if you just wanted to catch up, he'd take it. If you told him you were with someone else and you were happy, he'd learn to live with it. He was starved of you and was prepared to beg for crumbs of your life.

I'm fine. You have time for a phone call?

It was a leap but he acknowledged and accepted the risks.

Yeah. That would be good.

You pick up on the second ring.

"Hey."

Pierre squeezes his eyes shut, pushing back the lump in his throat. Years of memories rush over him in the space of a breath. The shock in your voice when you found out he was a driver for the first time. Your smile and breathless laugh when you met him in the garage in Brazil after his first podium in Formula 1. The tentative glances he had thrown your way for months after he finally accepted that he had begun to fall for you. The way your velvet lips felt when he made a gamble and kissed you for the first time. The drunken lilt of your voice when you told him you loved him that night in London.

Before he can stop it the bad comes rushing back too. The memory of the terror on your face when he let it slip that you were together sends a chill through him. If there was one moment he could change, it wouldn’t be the time he fucked up and lost his seat at Red Bull. It would be to keep his damned mouth shut at that karting track and preserve the bliss of that day and tuck it away in a bulletproof case that he could pull out and look at whenever he wanted.

"Hey you," he manages, silently thanking whoever is listening that he keeps the tremble out of his voice. "Been awhile."

"Yeah," you say sheepishly. "Sorry about that."

"You don't have anything to apologize for," he says quickly. "You never need to apologize to me."

You were the last one that needed to apologize for anything. He should be the one beginning for forgiveness. It was his fault you’d panicked. He should have fought harder for you, proved that he could make it work and save you both from months of heartache. But then again, maybe you had moved on. He couldn’t expect you to wait for him forever.

He doesn’t realize he’s been silent for so long until you clear your throat. For the first time he can recall, the silence is thick and heavy with unspoken words. It had always been effortless, the stories and words flowing like a babbling brook between the two of you. Now the confessions on his tongue remain poised there, too terrified to give them the light of day.

"How's your season been?" He’s thankful you break the quiet first but the question makes his stomach sink.

"You haven't been watching?"

"Not really."

"Oh." It made sense that you would distance yourself from him and that was fine, but he couldn’t pretend it didn’t hurt. "It's been decent. Red Bull wants me to come to Milton for contract discussions this week, actually."

"You're moving back up?"

"Potentially." Horner had only called him earlier that week to discuss the potential of him returning to Red Bull next year. The informal agreement was that if he could make seventh in the championship in a midfield car, they would bump him back for the following season.

It wasn’t a concrete guarantee- that’s why Horner wanted to speak with him in person. He had a year left in his contract and being in a Red Bull meant he would be able to prove his worth to other teams and potentially secure a world championship worthy seat at a team that actually appreciated his talent.

He draws a breath before continuing, "I'll be in London on Monday. You know- if you wanna get together."

You stay silent for a touch too long and he panics. It was too soon. He should have kept his mouth shut because now he’d driven you away again. “Nevermind, forget I said anything-"

"No," you interrupt, "no, I'd love to see you and catch up. I don't have classes on Tuesdays. Have any free time then?"

His eyes slide shut and he exhales. The flack he would undoubtedly catch for shuffling around a few interviews would be worth it to see you. "Yeah. I can swing by your apartment around seven?"

"Okay," you say, a touch of excitement lacing your voice. "I'll make myself presentable."

"I-" he stops himself before the words can slip past his lips. "I'll see you then."

*********

Pierre blows out a breath and adjusts his backpack. He stands at the threshold of your building, keys in hand, unsure if he should let himself in. The dilemma had kept him rooted to the spot for nearly ten minutes now, weighing the pros and cons of his options.

“Hey you, blond fucker.” Pierre whips around and is met by Daniel’s girlfriend glaring up at him from the sidewalk. She tips her head to the side to study him. Apparently he wasn’t the only one that had to cancel plans to be here tonight. “You gonna grow a pair and go up there or just keep staring at the door all day?”

“I’m going,” he grumbles, “are you?”

“Oh, I was going to but clearly whatever you have planned is more important.” Her grin splits her face ear to ear. “About damn time she got ahold of you. I was getting sick of listening to her gripe about you twenty four seven.”

“Didn’t she tell you I was coming by? If you guys have plans I can come back later.”

She waves a hand and dismisses the offer. “Absolutely not. Go get your girl.”

“She’s not-” The glare she cuts him snatches the words from his mouth. She makes a shooing motion before setting off down the sidewalk, munching on whatever snacks were in her shopping bag.

Pierre shakes out his hands and tries to gather the courage to use his key. The hopeless romantic argued that you would expect him to use it because you would know he still had it. The rational side of him butts in to point out that it might catch you off guard if he showed up without warning. He settles on buzzing your unit, your answer fuzzy from the distortion.

"Pierre?"

Even with the warbly static in your voice, his name on your lips is the salvation he’s been dreaming about for months. "Yeah it's me."

"Don't you have a key?"

"I wasn't sure if I should use it."

You don't answer, instead letting the buzz of the electronic lock do the talking. He takes the stairs three at a time, barely winded by the time he reaches the third floor. He doesn't even have to knock, your door swinging open as he steps up. The sight of you knocks the breath from his lungs.

It didn't matter that you were in a simple hoodie and jeans, feet bare and hair swept back in a low bun. You are the most beautiful person he's ever seen and after months apart he nearly falls to his knees then and there to beg for your forgiveness, to get lost in you until two souls became one and he never had to live another second apart from you.

"Are you gonna stand there or do you wanna come in?"

God, he had missed your teasing jabs. His fingers ache for contact with your soft skin and he curls them into a fist to resist the urge. “Coming in,” he says softly, purposefully brushing your arm as he skirts past you. Every inch of him sings from the barely there touch, his soul aching for more.

Just stepping foot into your quaint flat has the weight he had been carrying on his chest for months beginning to ease up. Nothing beat the elation of being back where he belonged, not even spraying champagne from the top step on a podium.

Determined not to scare you off before he could have a proper conversation with you, Pierre opts for falling into the same humor you had used earlier. The corners of his mouth twitch upward. "Is that takeout I smell?"

You nod, your cheeks turning a pale pink. “I got you two orders of beef lo mein. I figured you might be hungry.”

As if summoned, his stomach growls. “Yeah. I haven’t eaten since breakfast."

“Figures,” you say, eyes glinting with mischief as you settle into the plush carpet and pull a takeout box towards you. "I got it from that place across town, the one you liked best." Pierre perches on the edge of the sofa and snags the plastic tray with his name on it, eyes never leaving yours.

Now that you were mere feet from him he found it increasingly difficult to deny himself the relief of kissing you here and now. He wanted to trace his thumb over your lips before replacing it with his own, to slot his mouth over yours until time was nothing and he was no one other than yours.

You clear your throat and drop his gaze first, sending him crashing back to reality. “So, ninth huh? Glad to see you cracked the top ten.”

Pierre scrunches his nose and spears a piece of broccoli. He was shit with chopsticks but you always got a kick out of him fumbling with them. “Not where I’d like to be but I’ll take it. Horner took notice obviously, but I’m not getting my hopes up.”

“I think an invitation to Milton Keynes is enough reason to hope," you say around a mouthful of sticky rice.

This interaction was reason to hope. The fact that you were once again on speaking terms, that things were finally returning to some semblance of normal, was enough for him to believe that one day everything would be back to how it was before. That maybe, just maybe, he could hold you in his arms again and fall asleep to the soundtrack of your heart beating in his ear.

Remembering the guy from your instagram, he scans the room for any sign of a male companion. Finding none, he asks, “How’s your boyfriend?”

It probably would have been a good idea to go about this particular line of questioning with a bit more tact. Inquiring so blatantly betrayed his inner thoughts, laid all his cards on the table. He didn't have it in him to care, not when his world might be turned upside down by your answer.

“Oh, you mean Peter?” You sip your water, seemingly working up the courage to explain. Each moment that the silence dragged on it became more of a physical monster. Pierre could feel it growing until it threatened to sink his claws in him and drag him deeper into the pits of his insecurity.

“If that’s his name, yeah.” Pierre braces himself for whatever comes next, reminding himself to be happy for you no matter what you choose. It would take time but he could put aside what he still felt for you and learn to accept your choice if it meant staying in your life.

You shake your head. “He’s a friend from uni. He’s not my boyfriend. At least not anymore.”

“Oh,” he says, frowning down at his food to cover the way his heart skips. “But he was?”

He had expected you to move on, if he was being honest. No way in hell did you deserve to be as miserable as he had been since you'd left- you deserved all the happiness he couldn't seem to give you and more. And if someone else had been the one to grant you that happiness, he should thank them.

“For a little while,” you say softly, like it would cushion the blow. “It didn’t feel right.”

He was familiar with that feeling. Nothing he did felt right after the break up. Just about the only thing that kept him sane was telling himself that you’d come to your senses sooner or later.

And now that he was here, his world was beginning to right itself.

“Earth to Pierre,” you say teasingly, waving a hand in front of his face.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I just- I’ve missed this,” he says, picking at his food.

“What, eating subpar takeout in my tiny apartment?” You laugh and stuff another bite in your mouth. God, you could be so oblivious. It was one of the many things he adored about you.

“I do. I miss doing anything that involves you, actually.”

There it was. His heart laid bare before you for the second time, waiting to see how you would respond. You set down your chopsticks and wipe your lips. His eyes track their movement as you whisper, “I’ve missed you too.”

Four syllables and he melts. It takes all he has to keep himself from sobbing with relief. It was everything he had come here hoping to hear. He couldn’t endure this again, couldn’t lose you for a second time-

“Don’t say that unless you mean it,” he pleads, body thrumming with the need to wrap you in his arms. “Don’t put me through this again unless you’re here to stay.”

He wasn't strong enough to tell you to stop. He would let you wreck him and he would be completely powerless to stop it. He would welcome it if it meant you granting him a sliver of your time. It would ruin him for anyone else but he didn’t have it in him to turn you away.

You rise to your feet and pad around the low table until you’re standing knee to knee, his neck craned up to study your face. You just keep looking at him, the leash on his carefully controlled restraint slipping as he rambles, “Because I can’t take it if you leave me again, I won’t-”

You simply nod, as if that’s all the answer he should need. But it’s not enough. “Tell me,” he pleads. “Tell me you mean it.”

He didn’t care that he was begging. He didn’t care that you had reduced his normally impenetrably stoic mentality to a jumble of you. If he was being honest with himself, you were the light of his life, the reason he pushed so hard for results on track. Everything had gone black and white when you left and racing had been the only thing keeping him from falling apart at the seams. The need to make you proud still propelled him forward even if he'd had no idea if you still cared.

So no, he didn’t care at all that he was practically on his knees. He would grovel at your feet for his entire life if it meant you’d grant him one more day to be with you.

“I mean it,” you murmur and place a hand on his cheek. He draws a shaky breath, leaning into you. Home, home, home, his head screams, acutely aware of every square inch of contact between the two of you.

“I’ve had plenty of time to think about it, and I’ve finally come to terms with it- your lifestyle. If I love you, I have to accept it being public. I have to build myself a shelter to withstand the storm, but I’ll make it big enough for two.”

It takes everything in him to keep from crushing you to his chest and never letting go. He had to ask, had to be certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was forever. “Promise me you won’t leave again if things get hard. Promise me we’ll get through whatever they throw at us together.”

“I promise. I’m not afraid anymore,” you murmur. Pierre’s head falls forward to rest on your hip bone, your fingers threading in his hair. “Daniel’s girlfriend helped me see that it doesn’t matter what anyone says. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I haven't been the same since I…”

“Neither have I.” His thumb winds under your shirt to sweep over your soft skin. “You’re safe with me, you know that right? I can protect you from whatever they say and you’re right, it doesn’t matter. The only thing that matters is this-” he finally lets himself look up at you- “what we have. I’ve never stopped loving you, not once.”

Your smile is soft and tentative as you climb into his lap. His hands slide up your sides to pull you closer, refusing to let an inch separate you now that you’d bridged the gap. “I promise I’m not going anywhere. I learned my lesson.”

You lean down to ghost your lips over his brow, his closed eyelids, his nose. He can feel himself reconstructing under your touch, that final piece of the puzzle clicking home after being lost for so long. “I promise that I’m yours until the last star falls from the sky.”

He had lost four months of time with you. He wouldn't allow another second to slip through his fingers.

Anticipating his movements, you meet him halfway. Fireworks explode as his lips finally return home and his world is finally, finally righted. Your nails scratch lightly at the nape of his neck, drawing him impossibly closer as your body moulds against his. He had nearly forgotten how perfectly your curves fit against him after all this time. He was determined to memorize every mountain and valley of you by the night's end.

His hands grip your thighs and he stands. Your arms automatically wind around his neck to keep from falling. He carries you to the kitchen and sets you on the edge of the island, never breaking the kiss. Nothing mattered outside of this apartment; not his career, not any baseless gossip, nothing existed beyond the space where your skin met his.

Pierre pulls back long enough to remove his shirt. Your fingers dance over his skin, relearning the planes of his chest like you had all the time in the world. And you did; he would stay here as long as you let him, reveling in the way you drank up every inch of his body like it was the first time you’d seen it.

“I love you,” you say as he kisses along your jaw.

How many times had he dreamt of you whispering that to him the past four months? How many times had it echoed in his head before a race, taunting him? He could scarcely believe his mind wasn’t playing more tricks on him now. He had to be certain it was real.

“Say it again,” he breathes. “Please. Please, tell me again.”

“I love you,” you repeat, punctuating each word with a kiss. “I love you Pierre, my champion, my heart, my everything.”

Pierre groans against your mouth, knotting his fingers in your hair and tugging your head back to expose your throat. He nips at the soft skin, not caring that he was leaving a trail of tiny marks in his wake. His focus was entirely on the gasps he was dragging from you with each touch, your heels digging into his ass and begging for him to be closer.

"My sweet, kindhearted man," you continue breathlessly. He didn't know if the words were for your benefit or his. "My best friend. My one and only love."

In that moment, you could ask him to bring you a star from the midnight sky and he wouldn't stop until he found a way to make it happen. You could ask for his last dollar and he would hand it to you with a smile on his face, completely enthralled with the way his name sounds on your tongue, professing that you still wanted him as much as he wanted you.

You were his undoing.

“Off,” he growls, tugging at your sweatshirt. You obey instantly and fling it aside, neither of you caring when dishes clatter to the tile floor and undoubtedly break. Your jeans follow suit after he helps you slip out of them. He runs his fingers over the delicate black lace of your bra and panties and pauses to appreciate that you knew exactly where the night would lead.

His cock twitches as you reach between your bodies to run a knuckle over his clothed length. “Your turn.” You undo the button with practiced ease, taking your sweet time as his breath comes in ragged gasps. He’d had a taste of you and hadn’t forgotten how you’d felt around him. He needed you more than he needed the air he breathed, his desperation taking over as he swats your hand aside and strips off his jeans and boxers himself.

He drops to his knees and grips your thighs, pulling you forward until your center is inches from his face. The yelp that escapes you is intoxicating, your hands flying back to catch yourself. His teeth sink none too gently into the flesh of your thigh and he’s rewarded with a moan before he flicks his tongue over the hurt.

Your head falls back and Pierre places one of your legs over his shoulder. “Mon amour,” he purrs, garnering your attention. Your head lolls forward and he waits until you meet his gaze to speak again. “You know I love you, right?”

“I never doubted it,” you confirm, lips curling in a smile. “But why don’t you prove it to me again?”

He pulls your panties aside and blows lightly. You groan, thighs tensing under his fingers as your toes curl and he chuckles. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Do you really want to tease me?”

“What I want,” he says sharply, “is to have you moaning my name until it's the only word you know.” His tongue flicks out to dance over your thigh, dangerously close to where he knows you want him. “What I want is to make up for lost time.” He rips through the thin lace of your panties and lets the ruined scraps fall to the floor.

“Those were expensive.”

“I’ll buy you new ones.”

He would buy you an entire lingerie store if he could rip every set of it off you. He didn’t care how much it costed, it was never too much when it came to you.

“What I want most, my love,” he murmurs, smiling when his hot breath curls over your dripping cunt and you squirm, “is to forget everything else and stay here forever.”

You cry out when his tongue finally flicks through your folds. Pierre hums approvingly at your reaction, one arm snaking up to pin your hips in place. He sucks lightly at your clit and your fingers tangle in his hair.

“P-Pierre,” you breathe. He pulls back and you whine at the loss of contact. He grins up at you, the wickedness of it dragging the moan from your lips that he was after. He was drunk on the sound, desperate to hear it again and again.

“There’s my good girl.” He runs his tongue flat over your sex, savoring the taste as you squirm under him. You let out a choked noise when he repeats the motion before fucking you with his tongue, his nose hitting your clit with each stroke.

He doesn’t miss the way your lip wobbles and Pierre knows you’re ready to cry with frustration. He decides he’s tortured you enough for now and relents, putting two fingers in his mouth to wet them before plunging them inside you.

His mouth is spelling his name on your clit a moment later, your walls already clamping down on his fingers as your orgasm nears. In the handful of times he’d taken you to bed, he had already learned that when your head rolls back like that and your breathing stops, you’re seconds away from climaxing. He doesn’t let up until you’re shaking beneath him, finally slowing to work you through your orgasm without making you hypersensitive.

“Baby,” you groan breathlessly. Pierre slowly withdraws his fingers and wipes them on his thigh before pressing a final, tender kiss to your center that makes you jump.

“Use my name,” he demands, uncoiling to his full height. He grips your wrist and hauls your boneless body up, wrapping his other arm around your shoulders to keep you upright.

“Pierre,” you murmur and he grinds his hips against you in approval. He captures your mouth with his, taking advantage of your hazy mind to lazily explore it.

You hum into the kiss, managing to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer. Suddenly the column of your neck is all he can think about and he wraps a hand around it, squeezing with enough force that you pull back with a gasp.

“Too much?” He murmurs, lessening his grip. Your brows knit together and your lower lips juts out, begging for him to take it between his teeth. He leans in and gives in to the impulse as he swipes his thumb under your jaw.

“Tell me if you want my hand on your throat, my love. I need to hear you say it.”

“Please,” you say finally. Your eyes are cloudy when they meet his. “Keep it there.”

He shows his approval in the form of a light squeeze. You angle your hips up, nudging his cock with your center. You reach a hand down to wrap around his shaft and drag the head through your folds, teasing him as he had done to you. The grip on your throat tightens to a point bordering blissfully between pain and pleasure, both a warning and an order to continue.

If you knew how close he was to flipping you on your stomach and slamming into you, you’d call him crazy. Or maybe you’d like it, judging by the way your head falls back as he rocks his hips and inches into you.

You both moan when he decides the time for restraint has passed and he slams into you. You lift your hips to meet his with every thrust, clearly missing this just as much as he had. God, he’d lost months of fucking you, of feeling you clench around him and writhe beneath him. If he could stay like this forever he would, his hand around your neck and cock splitting you open as he laps up your moans like sweet candy.

“I’m- Pierre,” you squeak out, and he knows you’re barreling towards your second orgasm of the night. He pulls you up by your neck until you’re eye to eye and forced to look at him.

“Come for me,” he whispers, slamming into you again and again. “Come on my cock mon amour and I might just cum inside you.”

His words are your undoing, pleasure rippling from you in waves as your mouth falls open in a silent plea. He grants you no clemency as your cunt twitches around him, instead following through on his promise and following your lead.

You pants mix with his own as he struggles to keep both of you upright, his knees turned to jelly. Your head rests on his shoulder and he presses a kiss to your temple, slowly pulling out of you. A pitiful whimper escapes your throat involuntarily.

“I know,” Pierre murmurs, reaching over to start the kitchen sink. He wets a clean cloth and runs it between your legs, still supporting you as he doesn’t trust that your legs won't give out if he doesn’t. When it’s clear you can barely form a coherent thought, he scoops you in his arms and carries you to your room. He nudges the bathroom door open with his hip and sets you on the vanity.

The absence of his body heat makes you shiver when he goes to turn on the shower, adjusting the knobs until he’s satisfied with the temperature. He gathers you in his arms and steps into the tub, your sigh audible as the warm water hits your skin.

“Can you stand?” he murmurs before kissing your temple. You nod against his chest and he sets you down, keeping his hands on your waist just in case. You’re thankful for it when your knees wobble, a hand flying out to steady yourself.

“I’m okay,” you say after a beat and grin up at him. “I can stand, promise.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m taking my hands off you,” he says, grinning right back. “At least not for long.” He reaches over your shoulder for the shampoo and gestures for you to turn around. You obey, tipping your head back to wet your hair. A blissful sigh escapes you when his fingers meet your scalp, the cherry blossom scent blooming in the air as he works it into a lather.

Taking care of you was just as satisfying as the sex was. He cherished the intimacy of taking this small burden from your shoulders. The seemingly simple task was one of deep seated trust and it proved to him that your love ran bone deep. There was a level of trust in you letting him wash you that he didn't want to have with anyone else. It was reserved for you and you alone.

“Close your eyes,” he warns before guiding your head back under the water for a rinse. He cups a hand to your forehead to keep the soap from your eyes. Your smile is soft but unrestrained as you lean further into him until your back is pressed to his chest.

You both stay silent as he runs the creamy conditioner through the ends of your hair. His hand cups your jaw and tips your head back for a lazy kiss before he rinses that too and cuts the tap.

Once you're wrapped in a fuzzy white towel he finally dries himself off, fighting off a chill. He doesn't realize you're watching him until he turns around and notices you standing in the doorway.

"What?"

You push off the wall and pad back to where he stands to wrap your arms around his middle. His thumb traces patterns on your shoulder, perfectly content to stand there dripping on the tile until morning.

When it's clear you're lost in thought he speaks up. "What's on your mind?"

"When did you know you loved me?"

"Like the exact moment?" He asks, caught off guard. You nod against his chest.

"When you visited me in Milan last summer," he says a few heartbeats later. That night insisted on making guacamole at two in the morning and woke me up because you couldn't find a lime. You told me you couldn't sleep because it was all you could think about after you saw that couple at the cafe eating it."

"Why then?"

"Because I knew I didn't have a lime but I was fully prepared to knock on every door in the building to find you one. Because in that moment all that mattered was seeing your face light up when I handed it to you and knowing that it was me that made you smile like that. I knew then that I’d do anything for you."

It still amazed him how a lime of all things was the tipping point. In that moment, a lime was important to you and it so naturally became important to him. If anyone else had woken him from his deep sleep he would have grumbled and told them off. But you, seeing your face inches from his, the light from the hall casting a warm halo around your frame as you whispered his name, he hadn’t cared at all.

"But then I found the juice in the fridge," you recall and glance up at him.

"Yeah, you did. And you felt so bad for waking me up- you had no idea that I had already fallen so hard that I had to keep myself from shutting you up with a kiss.”

The easy admission seems to stir something in you and you rise up on your tiptoes to press your lips to his. “I knew that time you sent food to my dorm at midnight when I was pulling an all nighter. I was studying for my calculus final, remember?”

Pierre nods. “I was in Barcelona. You weren’t answering your phone so I sent a message with the takeout guy.” He had been wholly enamored with you at that point, having quickly learned that trying to keep his feelings buried deep was an option that would never work. So he leaned into it, letting little bits of it shine through in hopes that you might pick up on it.

Your laugh rumbles through him. “It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done for me. I hadn’t eaten all day. I was too nervous.”

“Took us long enough to figure it out didn’t it?” He untangles himself from you and leads you to bed.

“I’m just glad we did eventually.” You let him guide you to the mattress while he stays standing and goes to your closet. He hunts for the shirt he wants to see you in, praying you hadn’t gotten rid of it. He finally finds it tucked back in the corner and pulls it out, the cobalt blue fabric a little faded from how often you’d worn it over the years.

“I remember that,” you say softly as he returns with it and slips it over your head.

It was the first shirt he had ever gotten upon entering Formula 1 and somehow you had wound up snagging it from his closet while he cleaned up the mess in the kitchen during that same trip to Milan. He had choked on his guac when you reappeared wearing it, eyes lingering on the Torro Rosso logo on the chest and his name splayed across your back like a claiming.

"I don't have sweatpants for you anymore," you point out with an apologetic wince. "I got rid of them."

Pierre just shrugs and hands you the shirt. "I have a change of clothes in my backpack. I was planning on working out to blow off some steam if…"

He trails off and you nod in silent acknowledgement. He didn’t have to voice the thought, you were already in his head and knew exactly what he meant. Unable to help himself, he kisses your head just because he can before retrieving his bag from the kitchen. "I have something for you," he says and lets the towel around his waist drop.

You let out a low whistle and grin at him as your eyes slide over every inch of his body. He takes more time than necessary to pull out his shorts, appreciating your gaze. You're still watching him as he slips them on and brings his bag to you.

"Do you wanna see what I got you or are you gonna stare at me all night?"

"I think I'll stare."

Pierre rolls his eyes and chuckles, plopping down next to you. "Close your eyes and hold out your hands."

You do as he asks but not before cocking a brow at him. Knowing the sound of the package will give it away, he does his best to draw out the first item as quietly as he can. The second he sets it in your hands a smile splits your face. He'd tear down the energy station with his bare hands to keep that expression on your face.

"It's candy." Your eyes open and you gasp. "Laffy taffy? But you can only get this-"

"In the states," He finishes. “I got as much as the store had.” The chewy, fruity candy was your absolute favorite and every once in a while you craved it. His backpack was currently stuffed full of it and various other packages of sweets, having been collected at every gp he had been to since Austin.

You tear into the package and dig for a pink one. You hold it out to him triumphantly and somehow, it’s that simple gesture that makes him melt. “You like the strawberry ones don’t you?”

“Yes baby, I do.” He lets you pop the sweet in his mouth - Pyry would certainly not approve- and grins at you. “If you eat too many before bed you won’t be able to sleep.”

“It’s still early,” you point out but don’t hesitate to set the sweets aside and cuddle up to him when he lays back. “Got somewhere to be?”

“I have to be at Milton by eight,” he says, wrapping an arm around your middle. “But you’re coming with me.”

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