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vanteguccir · 3 months

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── ୨୧ !　𝗞𝗜𝗦𝗦 𝗠𝗘

　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N and Matt are just friends that act like they’re in a loving relationship.

WARNING: None. (Friends to lovers trope)

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Matt had always believed that change was the only constant in life. He had learned this the hard way when he and his brothers finally decided to uproot their lives from the tranquil suburbs of Boston to the bustling, sun-soaked streets of Los Angeles.

LA was vast and vibrant, a stark contrast to the quiet neighborhoods they were used to. It was in this whirlwind of new beginnings that Matt met Y/N.

Y/N lived next door. The first encounter was serendipitous, almost as if fate had decided to intervene. Matt was struggling to carry a heavy box from the moving truck, screaming like crazy for help to Nick or Chris - and being successfully ignored - when Y/N appeared, offering a friendly smile and a helping hand. That simple act of kindness sparked a connection that would grow deeper over time.

From the very start, their friendship was unlike any other. There was an immediate, unspoken understanding between them. Matt felt a sense of ease around Y/N that he hadn’t experienced with anyone else, not even his brothers.

One of the most defining aspects of their friendship was their mutual love language: touch. It wasn’t something they discussed; it simply came naturally. A gentle touch on the shoulder, a comforting hand on the back, a little bit of cuddling, or a playful nudge, these small gestures were a constant, reassuring presence in their interactions.

Matt found himself gravitating toward Y/N whenever they were together. He cherished the way Y/N would drape an arm around his waist as they walked down the street during fall days, or how they would sit so close on the couch that their legs would almost be on top of the other.

It was these moments of physical closeness that made the both of them feel truly understood and cared for.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The bright winter sun was high in the sky, casting a golden glow into the car, illuminating the black leather seats. The car windows were rolled down, letting in the slightly cold breeze and the distant sound of other cars rushing around in the - always - busy streets of LA. Matt was behind the wheel, his hands relaxed on the steering wheel as he guided the car along the venue heading to Target, ready to buy the items he and his brothers would use in Wednesday's upcoming video.

Y/N was in the passenger seat, her feet propped up on the seat so that her legs were bent and her thighs kept pressed against her chest, a carefree smile playing on her lips. The radio played a soft indie, melodic tune, adding to the serene atmosphere.

As they drove, Y/N’s hand found its way to Matt’s arm, a casual and unconscious gesture. Her fingers decorated with pink nails lightly traced patterns on his hoodie-covered skin, the touch gentle and familiar. Matt glanced over and smiled, a warm feeling spreading through him. He was used to Y/N’s touch by now; it was as natural as breathing.

"Look, Matt, that restaurant I sent you on Instagram! I really want to come here, they only do Arabic food, you know?" Y/N exclaimed, pointing out the window to the tall, large restaurant, the concrete walls in a warm shade of red with a silver sign that shined below the daylight. Her excitement was contagious, and Matt felt his heart swell with affection for his best friend.

"We could come this Friday. If you want to, princess." Matt agreed, his voice soft. He reached over and squeezed Y/N’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before returning his focus to the road. Y/N’s fingers lingered on his, her touch very soft as she traced the lines of his palm with the tip of her fingers.

They drove in comfortable silence for the last few minutes of the route, the only sounds being the hum of the engine and the occasional horn coming from the cars around. While singing the soft melody of one of Billie's songs, Y/N’s hand moved to Matt’s forearm, her fingers lightly brushing up and down, a soothing rhythm that Matt found incredibly calming.

Without thinking, Y/N’s hand slipped to the back of Matt’s neck, her fingers threading through his hair. Matt leaned into the touch, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

"Oh, we're here!"

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Matt was sprawled out on the couch, enjoying the tranquility that followed a satisfying lunch. The living room was bathed in the soft glow of the afternoon sun, which streamed in through the large windows on the right side of the large sofa, casting a warm and inviting light over everything.

The sound of Nick's fingers tapping over the keys on his MacBook as he edited their next YouTube video was one of the only sounds that interrupted the comfortable silence.

Matt had his phone in hand, idly scrolling through TikTok. He chuckled at the occasional funny video, the sound mingling with the faint hum of the air conditioning. He was relaxed, content to let the day pass by in this peaceful state.

Y/N was in the kitchen, putting away the leftovers from their lunch, setting aside a significant portion for Chris, knowing he would return home hungry after his outing with Sam, the aroma of the meal newly cooked still lingering in the air.

As Y/N finished up, she wiped her hands on a dish towel and made her way into the living room.

Matt looked up as soon as he noticed a new presence approaching, a soft smile spreading across his face almost automatically.

"Hey." He said, his voice warm and inviting. The boy patted the space on the grey couch next to him, signaling for Y/N to join him. "Come here."

Y/N didn’t need any further encouragement. She crossed the room - stroking Nick's right shoulder quickly as she passed him - and settled onto the couch, her body naturally gravitating towards Matt. Without a word, Matt lifted his arm and gently guided Y/N’s head to rest on his thighs.

As Y/N nestled her head into Matt’s lap, a content sigh scaped through her lips. Matt’s free hand found its way to Y/N’s hair, brushing away loose strands over her eyes and cheeks, his fingers beginning to gently scratch her scalp softly. The rhythmic motion was soothing, and Y/N felt a wave of relaxation wash over her body. Her mind started to feel like floating.

Matt continued to watch TikToks, his focus still on the screen while his right tumb scrolled from one video to another, but his touch remained constant and affectionate. He didn’t even realize how naturally his fingers moved through Y/N’s hair, the light scratching and gentle strokes a habitual way of expressing his care.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered closed, the combination of Matt’s touch and the post-lunch drowsiness lulling her into a state of blissful relaxation. The soft rise and fall of Matt’s chest, the steady rhythm of his breathing, and the gentle pressure of his fingers all blended together, creating a cocoon of comfort.

Until she finally dozed off.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The gentle glow of the TV cast a soft light across Matt's room, creating a cozy and inviting atmosphere, the blinds blocking the moonlight from outside the house. Y/N lay curled up on his bed, nestled under the duvet, watching a random, soft movie, her body covered in Matt's blue striped pajamas.

The plot was slow, the characters spoke in hushed tones, and the overall ambiance was soothing. It was the perfect background for drifting into a peaceful slumber.

Y/N’s eyelids grew heavier with each passing minute, her mind teetering on the edge of sleep. She fought to stay awake, hoping to see Matt after his hours of recording with his brothers before giving in to the lull of the movie. The faint sound of footsteps against the floor and the jingling of car keys reached her ears. Matt was home.

A few moments later, the bedroom door opened quietly, and Matt stepped inside. He paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of Y/N with her eyes half-closed, looking so peaceful and serene. His heart swelled with care as he softly closed the door behind his back, careful not to make any noise, the click echoing through the four walls.

"Hey, princess, are you still awake?" Matt whispered, his voice gentle and filled with warmth, wanting to make sure before making any noise that would actually wake her up.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, lifting her head on Matt's pillow - the strands of her hair spilling over the cotton pillowcase - and looking at him, smiling sleepily.

"Barely." She replied, her voice a soft murmur. She lifted the edge of the duvet, a clear invitation for him to join her. "Come lay with me. Pretty please."

Matt didn’t need any further prompting. He could shower after. He kicked off his shoes and took small steps towards his bed, the sound of his white sock-covered feet sounding mutely against the floor. The boy slipped into bed beside Y/N, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight.

As he settled in, Y/N turned towards him, her eyes sparkling with drowsy affection.

"Come here, petal." Matt gently pulled her closer, wrapping one arm around her torso and positioning her head on his shoulder. He could feel the soft, steady rhythm of her breathing against his chest. With his other arm, he draped the duvet over them both, cocooning them in warmth.

He wrapped his arm more securely around her, his hand resting on her back, traveling to the hem of her - his - pajama top, delving beneath the fabric and up the warm skin that seemed to embrace the cold of his hand, fingers lightly tracing soothing circles. He felt Y/N’s body relax further into his embrace, their legs naturally tangling together, creating a comforting sense of intimacy.

Matt buried his face in Y/N’s hair, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent that always calmed him. He pressed a series of light, tender kisses to the top of her head, moving down to her temple and then to her cheek.

Y/N let out a contented sigh, her eyes drifting closed as she nestled even closer to Matt. She could feel the steady beat of his heart, a soothing reminder of his presence. Matt’s fingers continued to draw gentle patterns on her back, a comforting rhythm that lulled her further towards sleep.

"Y'need to tell me about your day, Matty." Y/N whispered against his chest, her voice barely audible, her words slurred with drowsiness.

"Tomorrow." He whispered back, feeling his best friend finally succumbed to sleep.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The gentle hum of conversation filled the air as Matt and Y/N strolled through the farmer’s market - one of the activities that Matt started to love doing after meeting Y/N. Stalls lined the street, brimming with fresh produce, homemade crafts, and delicious baked goods. The vibrant colors and lively atmosphere added to the charm of the day.

Matt and Y/N walked side by side, their hands occasionally brushing against each other. They had done this many times before, but today, something felt different. There was a lingering warmth in every accidental touch, a heightened awareness that neither of them could quite explain.

"Look at these strawberries!" Y/N exclaimed, stopping at a stall overflowing with ripe, red fruit. She picked up a small basket and held it out for Matt to see. "Aren’t they beautiful?"

Matt smiled, his eyes not on the strawberries but on Y/N’s face, lit up with excitement.

"They’re." He said softly, nodding slightly. "Let’s get some, yeah?"

As they continued to browse, Y/N slipped her hand into Matt’s without thinking, their fingers intertwining naturally. Matt’s heart skipped a beat at the simple, already familiar gesture, but today, it felt more significant. He glanced down at their joined hands, a small smile playing on his lips, and gently squeezed.

They made their way to a stall, selling freshly baked pastries. Y/N’s eyes lit up at the sight of chocolate croissants, and Matt couldn’t help but laugh.

"You and your obsession with chocolate." The brunette teased, nudging Y/N playfully.

"You know me so well, Matty B." Y/N replied jokingly with a grin, selecting two croissants and handing one to Matt. "Here, try this."

Matt took a bite, the rich, flaky pastry melting in his mouth.

"It's good." He agreed, picking two more for Chris and Nick, knowing they would complain if they knew he had some sweet treat with Y/N and didn't think about them.

As they continued their stroll, sharing the croissants, the simple act of enjoying a treat together felt intimate, more than it had ever before.

While choosing some fresh fruits and showing them to Matt, their eyes met, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to blur, the sound of salespeople announcing their sales seemed muted to their ears and the people moving around them seemed to disappear. Matt felt an overwhelming urge to close the distance between them, to let his feelings be known. But he hesitated, unsure of what he was even feeling.

Y/N’s hand found its way to Matt’s cheek, her touch light and tender.

"You’ve got a bit of croissant on your face." She whispered with a soft laugh, brushing the crumbs away with the tip of her fingers.

Matt’s heart raced at the simple touch, and he covered Y/N’s hand with his own, holding it there for a moment longer than necessary.

"Thanks." He murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

They stayed like that for a few moments, the connection between them growing stronger with each passing second. Neither of them spoke, but the emotions in their eyes said more than words ever could.

A rude sound from the small stall vendor broke the moment, the man clearing his throat as he watched them, his eyes traveling from their faces to the fruit in Y/N's hands and back again.

"Oh, uhm, sorry."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the room as Matt sat on the edge of his bed, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. He had been feeling off all day, a strange mix of anxiety and anticipation that he couldn’t quite shake. Nick and Chris had noticed his unusual behavior and exchanged knowing glances but said nothing.

The soft sound of knocking against his bedroom door sounded through all four walls, Y/N's head appearing between the door and the doorframe seconds after.

"Hey, Matty. What’s wrong?" The girl asked without even saying hi, her voice soft and full of concern. "Nick texted me. He told me you weren’t feeling so well… but you’re not ill, are you? You were fine earlier."

Before Matt could respond, Y/N stepped in his room, closing the door behind her back and taking small steps closer, positioning herself standing between his parted knees and pressing the back of her hand against his forehead to check his temperature. Matt’s heart raced at the gentle touch, his breath hitching slightly.

"No, you’re not, thank God." Y/N said with a sigh of relief, smiling hesitantly, her eyes filled with genuine concern. "But I know you, you're not feeling your best, huh? What can I do to help?"

Matt’s mind raced. He didn’t know why he had held back for so long, why he had ignored the signs that were so clear now. Every time Y/N’s eyes sparkled when she looked at him, it mirrored the way his eyes lit up when he saw her. It was like he had been voluntarily blinding himself, unwilling to acknowledge the truth. But now, it was as if he was seeing colors for the first time, and everything made sense. He almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, how it had taken a conversation with Nick, of all people, to make him realize what he had been feeling all along.

"Matty?" Y/N’s voice broke through his thoughts, pulling him back to the present, her hand traveling to his right shoulder, squeezing the covered skin.

Matt looked up, his heart pounding in his chest. He could see the worry etched on Y/N’s face, and it made him fall in love with her all over again. He loved how easy it was to fall for her, how every little thing she did made his heart swell with affection.

"A kiss…" He whispered, his voice barely audible, but he knew Y/N heard him because he saw her breath hitch, her hands movements stopping momentarily.

"What?" Y/N asked, her eyes wide with surprise while her lips parted in disbelief.

"I want a kiss… to feel better." Matt repeated, clearing his throat, his voice a little stronger this time. He felt vulnerable, his heart laid bare while his body pleaded him to get under his bed and hide, but he couldn’t hold back any longer.

Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest as she processed Matt’s words. Not wanting to raise her hopes too high, she gulped, leaning in and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, right above his messy bangs. The simple act made her heart beat loudly in their ears, a rhythm that matched Matt’s - without her knowledge.

Matt’s breath caught at the touch, but it wasn’t enough. He needed more. He raised his head, his hazel eyes locking onto Y/N’s gaze, melting with a mixture of hope and longing.

"No... A proper kiss." He asked again, his voice filled with anxiety and nervousness, but courage. "Like... Like lovers do."

Y/N’s world slowed to a standstill as she processed Matt’s words. She had waited so long for this moment, and now that it was happening, it felt almost unreal. But the intensity in Matt’s eyes and the sincerity in his voice made she realize that this was real. This was happening.

Y/N inhale a big breath before leaning in again, her heart racing, looking deeply at his eyes for some seconds before finally pressing her lips against Matt’s.

The kiss unfolded with a tenderness that seemed to suspend time itself. There was a gentle hesitation at first, an unspoken acknowledgment of the years of friendship that had led them to this moment. Y/N's touch was feather-light against Matt's cheek as their lips kept pressed for some seconds in a tentative, exploratory caress.

The sensation was electrifying yet gentle, sending shivers of anticipation down their spines. Matt's arms encircled Y/N, pulling her closer between his spread legs with a warmth that spoke volumes of his love.

The gesture deepened, each movement a silent exchange of emotions long held in check. The world outside seemed to fade away as they lost themselves in the sweetness of the moment, their hearts beating in sync.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, their foreheads resting against each other’s, Y/N's spine curved so that she could be closer, her fingers traveling down his neck and finding home between his messy chocolate strands.

"I love you." Matt whispered, his voice filled with all the emotions he had been holding back.

"I love you too, Matt." Y/N replied, her voice equally soft and full of love. "I love you too..."

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wilwheaton · 1 year

Quote

Q: Why aren’t the studios budging? A: They seem to believe they’ve done enough already. The AMPTP’s statement about the SAG-AFTRA strike on Thursday claims the organization offered “historic pay and residual increases, substantially higher caps on pension and health contributions, audition protections, shortened series option periods, and a groundbreaking AI proposal that protects actors’ digital likenesses for SAG-AFTRA members.” (That “groundbreaking” AI proposal would be the aforementioned suggestion that background actors sell off their likenesses forever.) And as Disney CEO Bob Iger recently put it in an interview that immediately got him scorched on Twitter, Hollywood “is and has been a great business for all of these people, and it will continue to be, even through disruptive times. But being realistic is imperative here.” Q: How much does that guy make again? A: I’m so glad you asked! He just signed a contract extension that brings his annual take-home to $31 million, assuming he gets all his bonuses. I’m sorry, what? To be honest, his salary is kind of embarrassingly low compared to some of the other guys. Warner Bros. Discovery CEO David Zaslav made $498,915,318 in the past five years, according to the Los Angeles Times; poor Iger only got to $195,092,460. Ted Sarandos, meanwhile, reportedly took home $192,171,581 from Netflix in the past half-decade, and Comcast CEO Brian Roberts got $170,158,088.

Everything You Need to Know About the SAG Actors Strike

#sagaftra #sagaftra solidarity #wga solidarity #union strong #union proud

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itsnevercasual · 6 months

Text

I Wanna Be Yours

pairing: boss!ceo!harry styles x reader

request: Omg, can I request a boss!harry fic where he’s mean to everyone except from her??

summary: harry is the notoriously mean owner of pleasing, and he might have a slight soft spot for the new girl in the marketing department.

warnings: cursing, not edited

you were extremely new to pleasing, a very famous brand known for their nail polishes and perfumes. ever since you started (about three months ago), you’d hear literal horror stories about the founder and ceo.

rachel, the girl who trained you, told you that he was just plain rude. it was safe to say you feared the day he came in. thankfully, he wasn’t around much. not at your location, anyway. you were at the los angeles location, but he preferred to stay at the new york one.

tuesday morning, you got ready like every day. put on your usual outfit (a skirt, white button-up, a blazer, and heels), along with some black fleece-lined tights and a headband to push your hair back. it was getting cold out, and you couldn’t get away with just a skirt much longer.

with your iced coffee in one hand, your macbook and a few files you’d taken home in the other, you walked quickly into the building.

“good morning, miss townes,” the concierge greeted you.

“morning, nancy!” you greeted back as you ran to the elevator and pressed the button.

“late?” nancy asked.

“almost! this stupid elevator—“ said elevator dinged, and you let out a sigh of relief. “speak of the devil. see you, nance!”

—

by the time you made it up to the marketing floor (the twentieth floor out of fifty), you were exactly on time.

you moved as quickly as your heels would allow, dropping your car keys, computer, and files onto the desk.

“right on time, y/n,” rachel teased as you sat down. the two of you had cubicles right next to each other.

“long line at the coffee shop.”

“lucky you weren’t any later,” she commented as you sat down and took a generous sip of the iced coffee that had almost made you late, “mr. styles is said to be coming in today.”

you nearly choked on your drink.

“you finished those edits, right?”

“.. uh.. yeah. yeah, finished them last night,” you lied with a nod.

“y/n! he’s ruthless— he will literally fire you! that’s the new launch, and it’s overdue!”

“i know! i know, but i’ve been so busy, and fucking josh keeps making me do his shit—“

“oh shit, shut up. he’s here.”

“what?” you squeaked, quickly cleaning up your desk and opening the new launch photos on both the desktop and your personal computer.

out of the corner of your eye, you watched as what had to be mr. styles strolled through with an assistant who was talking about what you assumed was his schedule.

“you’ll have a meeting with the investors at three, and we have some papers to sign—“

you tuned her out as you tried to speed up the editing— brightening colors and adjusting the text so it fit better.

and suddenly, the footsteps of mr. styles and his assistant stopped. directly in front of your desk.

“you,” a voice spoke, and oh my god, he was british, “i don’t know you. who are you?”

your eyes snapped up to meet his, “oh. uh.. i’m y/n.. y/n townes. i’m.. um.. i’m new.”

he mouthed your name as if thinking it over.

“you’re the one doing the edits for the new launch?” he asked.

“yes, sir.”

he nodded before continuing his stroll. because, of fucking course, his office had to be on the marketing floor.

you let out a breath, sinking into your chair. rachel grabbed your arm with a comforting smile, “it’s okay, babes. he could’ve been rude.”

“he’s gonna see i’m not done and fire me!”

“it’s fine, just don’t think about it.”

—

right as you were about to head out on a quick lunch break, mr. styles’ assistant popped up at your desk.

“ms. townes, mr. styles requested your presence in his office. you, as well, ms. evans,” she said, glancing at you and rachel.

“uh— me? for.. for what?” you questioned.

“you’ll find out. i have to find a.. josh richardson. go on.”

you and rachel shared uneasy looks as the two of you stood and made your way to mr. styles’ office.

“if i get fired, i’m jumping out of a window,” you muttered as rachel pulled the door open.

“ah, ms. evans. ms. townes…. where is mr. richardson?” mr. styles spoke.

“your assistant went to grab him,” rachel answered. “what are we needed for?”

“you’ll see… ah, mr. richardson. so kind of you to join us.”

even you could tell he did not mean that.

“what is this?” josh asked, looking to you and rachel.

“you three were all put in charge of the new launch. correct?”

you all chorused variations of yes.

“and yet… nothing is done. why is that?”

you glanced to your shoes. you knew rachel was done. the whole project was all three of you were to make 300 campaigns and promo photos for the new nail polish launch. you'd devided it to be 100 each, and you all picked however many billboard designs, posters, social media posts, and so-ons that you'd do for the project. however, josh had slowly but surely pushed all of his work onto you.. until you had to do 200, and you only had around 130 done.

“i expect an answer.”

“i.. i finished all my photos and campaigns,” rachel finally said.

“i'm nearly done with.. my things. i was just helping josh before i--“

“so.. what i’m hearing so far, and correct me if i’m wrong, is that mr. richardson hasn’t been doing his job?”

josh cleared his throat, and you could feel the daggers he was glaring at you burning into your skull, “yes, mr. styles.”

mr. styles nodded, and you understood the horror stories now. he wasn’t even trying and he was terrifying. “do you like your job, mr. richardson?”

“yes, mr—“

“so why aren’t you doing it?”

“i— i’ve been.. busy.”

“busy.. right. well, i’ll make you less busy. you’re fired. get out.”

“wh— what? you can’t fire me!”

“i believe i can. and i just did. so get. out.”

“i have worked at this company for eight years! i make one mistake, and—“

“i will not ask you again!” mr. styles shouted, standing up from his chair. you flinched. “because i am not asking you, i am telling you. you are fired, and you will leave this building. and don’t even think about puttin’ this place on your resume, i won’t say a single good word about your ass.”

josh scoffed and stormed out of the room, you and rachel followed.

you turned the corner, yelping when someone grabbed your wrist and yanked it.

“what the hell, y/n? you said you’d do my—“

“i didn’t say that. you just assumed i would. i am not just apart of the valentines launch, josh, and i have fifty other things to do, and i can’t drop that just because you’re lazy.”

“you better watch what you say to me—“

a voice spoke from behind. mr. styles’ assisant, “uh.. miss townes? mr. styles requests he speak with you.. privately.”

you yanked your arm back, rubbing your wrist, “yes. of— of course. sorry.”

you walked back towards his office with your head down, glancing up at him once you entered the room.

you were surprised to see a... calm look on his face.

"miss townes, correct?" he asked.

"ye-.. uh.. yes, sir."

he smiled, which was very odd from what you'd seen of him so far, "you can relax, darling. you aren't in trouble. have a seat."

you hesitantly wandered towards the chair on the other side of his desk.

"what did you mean by.. helping mr. richardson with his work?"

"oh, well... he just.. he kept saying he was busy and asking if i could do.. certain parts of his work. and i--.. well, sometimes i'm a bit of a pushover, so i said yes."

"i see... and how much of his work, in total, did he push onto you?"

"uhm... all of it, mr. styles."

his eyes widened, "all of it? and you didn't tell a supervisor he wasn't planning on doing any of his work?"

"i.. i felt bad," you shrugged, looking down at your hands.

"yes. well... mrs. maruska, can you please bring mr. richardson back in here for a moment, please?"

you jumped when his assistant spoke behind you, not realizing she was even in the room.

"yes, mr. styles."

it was silent for a minute after the door shut, maybe two minutes, until the door re-opened and two pairs of footsteps entered.

"mr. richardson, before you leave, you are going to do something for me," mr. styles spoke. "you are going to apologize to y/n--"

you nearly choke on your own spit at his use of your first name.

"for making her do all of your work. and.. you will also apologize for whatever the hell that was i heard outside. that is no way to speak to any colleague."

josh scoffed, "i'm not apologiz--"

"i'm not asking."

mr. styles gaze switched to you as josh begrudgingly sighed, "i'm sorry, y/n."

"it's okay," you murmured, glancing at him.

"no, it isn't," mr. styles quickly interjected, keeping his eyes on you. you much preferred them on you than on josh. they were a lot kinder when they focused on you. softer. "but.. if ms. townes says it is alright... you may leave now."

you aren't quite sure what happens afterwards, because you keep your gaze away from mr. styles, because you're afraid he'll notice how nervous he makes you.

"how many did you have left?" mr. styles asked quietly. softly.

"i have 130 done. so.. seventy left. but i-- i can get them done soon, i promise. i can just stay late, or.. or--"

"no. none of that. you'll submit the ones you have.. and we'll figure out something for the rest."

"really? i mean.. are you sure?"

"i wouldn't have offered if i wasn't. you can go, now."

"thank you, mr. styles," you mumbled, standing and walking to the door.

right as you grabbed the handle, he called out.

"oh, and y/n?"

you turned around with a furrow in your brows.

"let me know if you have any other problems."

you can't even help the foolish smile on your lips as you nod and leave the room.

a/n: part 1!! i really love this request

#harry styles fic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry fic #harry styles au #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry #harry styles #boss!harry styles x reader #boss!harry styles #ceorry #ceo!harry styles #ceo!harry styles x reader

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cherry-leclerc · 7 months

Text

i hate you. i hate you? ☆ cs55

genre: humor, fluff, love confessions, childhood friends to enemies/rivals to lovers (damn, tongue twister), maybe a bit angsty (don't worry too much about it though, lol), flashbacks that add to a tiny slow-burn

word count: 3.5k

The dwindling friendship that comes crashing down when you get offered the opportunity of a lifetime. Leading to a bumpy road with your best friend.

req!... i swear that when i put angst ITS NOT BAD. anyways, enjoy, anons!

Me encantaría formar parte del equipo, you muse whimsically, pigtails flying against the winter breeze. Sería un sueño hecho realidad.

Despite being young, you knew you were different— came from a divergent background compared to those around you. Your family definitely didn’t have the resources to fulfill your dream to kart or race professionally. You partially blame your brothers for getting you into the sport.

Si. Lo sería, a particular Spaniard, agrees. You smile. Your parents share a pitiful glance before sitting you down. It wasn’t going to happen, not because they didn’t want to but simply because they couldn’t afford such an expensive hobby that would probably kick you in the butt.

That’s where your first guardian angel appeared. Carlos Sainz Sr. Better known as your best friend's father. Without a doubt, he offers to sponsor you, for he grew keen on having you around, enjoying time by the pool with his two girls and shy son.

Was there a way you could ever thank him? No, not really— nothing would ever cover all he’s ever done for you, but you’d make sure to try your best to find a way. Even if it took you a lifetime.

“You’ve known her for a lifetime! Probably five, for all we know!” Lando yelps, running a hand through his curls. “You can’t just call it quits on your friendship just like…” He snaps his fingers.

Carlos shrugs. He fills up a styrofoam cup of coffee, silently offering one to his moody friend. The Brit rolls his colorful eyes. You’re making a mistake, he presses. It’s the Spaniards turn to grow serious.

“Por favor—she should have thought about that before she stole my seat.”

That, you did. It wasn’t an easy decision to make. It could have never been, even if you had been warned. But suddenly you were getting an opportunity, the kind you only ever dreamt of. Carlos would be fine, he was a man who would eventually have a pile of teams interested in keeping him around. You, on the other hand, were surprised that anyone was even intrigued in having you form a part of their F1 team, much less— Ferrari.

This was it, and you had to grab at the opportunity. You just never imagined losing a friend along the way.

Why would you even consider accepting? You flinch and he’s looking as if he regrets it, so you give him the benefit of the doubt.

I know this isn’t what we were expecting, but think of it this way. I'd be coming in 2025 and you would already be too busy preparing to join Audi! It’ll work out. You’re still doing that, right? You knew he was, he had been so excited and told you as soon as he found out. Audi was in his blood.

He runs a large hand through his tangled hair, sighing. Still. You have to say no. You can’t do that to me. It’d be embarrassing.

Your shoulders drop an inch. Why? Because you’re being bought out or because a woman is keeping your seat? His silence is enough for your heart to break and for your mind to be made up.

I’m signing.

There is indignation, and then there is you.

“You are such a—argh!” Pounding your fists against the locked door, you reach out to briskly twist the knob, trying your best to get out of the cramped room. The world was spinning, and you could feel a migraine rolling in strongly, but you swore—swore—you would kill him as soon as you got your hands on him.

The morning had started off fairly simple. Show up, run a few tests on the stimulator, get to know a few of the mechanics you’d be working with, and finally, sign your contract. You had waited longer than intended, due to minor changes you had suggested, so you were extremely ready to get it done. This was supposed to be your day.

That is until the grumpy Spaniard pushed you, locked you in, and ran off before you had a chance to register what was going on. Fred had been adamant—show up on time. The next time he would be available would not be until three weeks, and that was ridiculously long if anyone were to ask. Carlos knew that.

Charles hums slowly, munching on a pack of M&M's when he hears the spine-chilling scream you let out, wood vibrating as you punch angrily. Hurrying over, he unlocks it from the outside, surprised by your appearance. Your hair is tussled, face is blotchy, vein throbbing. It’s definitely a sight to say the least. He mentions something about —he went that way— and —think about what you’re going to do— but you’re off before you settle with any of it.

The twists and turns make your head hurt, practically seeing red before you come to a halt. Smiling sophisticatedly, Carlos is sat, legs crossed, fingers pointing to his watch. No. “News for you, my dear friend; Fred just left.” The Spaniard winces playfully, already making his way out the door. “Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

Charles was right. You should have thought about what you would do. Jumping onto his large back, your flimsy hands dig into the forest he calls hair, and pull. He screeches, swaying from side to side as he hurriedly tries to disconnect your legs from around his waist. Let go, he groans harder when you pinch his arm.

“Why? Why did you do this—any of this?” At this point you’re kicking and screaming, panting, heaving. “Is it really that difficult to accept it? You lost. I’m in, you’re out.”

“At least we know she’s a fighter.”

Coming to a sudden stop, your eyes flicker to the familiar voice, instantly burning up. Fred taps his foot gingerly against the white tiles, an amused Monegasque standing right behind him. Jumping off of the sulky brunette, you begin to shake your head in disbelief, pointing towards the exit. “N-no…you’re supposed to be gone. He…” Then it hits you. This was a fucking set up.

“While I’m evenly impressed by your toughness, I will say, I think we should put a hold on signing.” Your stomach drops. The older man quickly waves his hands in dismissal, grinning apologetically. “We still want you! Nothing has changed, but I think it’s for the best that you fix things with Carlos before doing so. It’ll be good for you two.” With that, he bows his head, and strolls away, heading for the airport.

“I’m out too,” Charles whispered, slowly stepping back. “Fill me in on what happens, though!”

As soon as your breath evens out—and Carlos creates a safe distance between you two—you let out a deranged chuckle. He almost cringes at the cold sound, but keeps his chin up high. “You did this all on purpose?” It’s a question but comes out more like a confirmation, which in a way, it was. Shutting your eyes, you tilt your head with a ghostly smile. “You knew he hadn’t left and let me make a fool out of myself. Why would you do that?” you grit, orbs laser focused on him as if you could light him up into flames if you really set your mind to it.

“Why would I not?” he stubbornly spits back.

“You asshole, I’m just trying to make your dad proud.”

A pinch of guilt dives deep into his veins as he watches you stomp down the hallway, mindlessly tugging at his heart.

I say we let him burn, Ana pitches the idea, laying flat on her bed as you scoff with a knowing smile.

Does it make me a bad person if I don’t disagree with you?

She sits up, eyeing where you calmly paint down on a canvas. She squints her eyes. “What even is that?” Holding your art with pride, you shoot a sheepish smile. Nice, huh? The Spaniard’s youngest sister giggles, nose scrunching up at the dark sight. “I’m confused—is he supposed to look like that?”

You curl an analytical brow, shooting a quick snarl. “I think it’s pretty good. And yes. He’s supposed to be getting run over by my future car. What a sight.” You dramatically swoon.

Ana drops her stare, focusing instead with a teasing curl gripping the corner of her lips. “Remember when instead of plotting his death, you’d be fantasizing about a life with him? God, I could still remember all the hearts—the glitter.” She shudders, faintly recalling the mess in her room, which led to Reyes giving you both a good scolding, but not before winking at a red-faced you.

Looking away feverishly, you shake your head, picking up the flimsy paint brush once again, never once bothering to make eye contact with her. “I was young. Stupid as shit. I can’t even remember what I loved about him.”

“Liked,” she corrects you.

You cough. “Right. Liked.”

If the Spaniard took the time to sit down, roll through a philosophical journey, wonder where things might have changed for him—it would have saved him enduring a puddle of dreadfulness at this very moment.

Ana’s wedding. The first of his sisters who would get married. It was a bittersweet day, and not just because she was finally leaving the family nest. “Who is she…” he can hear himself ask. Almost demand. The brunette smirks, slightly pleased.

“My best friend. You’re nemesis,” she jokes.

Carlos growls slowly, lightly pinching her cheek as she yelps. “With. You know what I mean.”

“Lalo. She met him a few weeks ago. Very nice guy.” A beat. “Please don’t ruin my wedding.”

But he’s not even listening. Brown eyes follow to where you stand straight, arms crossed over your body like a shield. He always knew you’d been self-conscious, but never understood why. You were stunning. Lavender dress hugs your curves beautifully. A trace of honey fills any area you fall into. Your hair is nicely pinned up, allowing him to enjoy your silky skin.

And it seems like Lalo too.

Rubbing a large hand against his smooth jaw—which was only neat since Reyes had hounded him to fix his appearance for his sister’s big day—he smoothly made his way over. Rupert warns the Spanirad with his eyes, but Carlos scoffs. Did everyone think he had something up his sleeve?

“Enjoying yourselves?”

Mid-sip, your face freezes, doe-eyes flickering between Lalo, then Carlos. Then Carlos, then Lalo. God, when did the room begin to boil? Your voice gets caught in your throat, to make matters worse. Carlos’ personal trainer pity’s you for a split second, deciding to help out. “The drinks are stellar, mate. We’ve been hogging the bar for so long at this point.”

The brown eyed boy studies your so-called date, faking a cold smile. “You don’t say…Carlos, by the way,” he says, extending his arm out. “Remind me of your name again, sorry, she’s just never mentioned you before. At all, really. I apologize.”

“That’s okay, we only just met a few weeks ago. We’re taking it slow.” We’re. The word itself makes the 29 year old fear he might puke right then and there. “Eduardo, but you can call me Lalo. Huge fan.”

“Mines or hers?” Carlos bitterly questions, thick lips forming a straight line. Lalo awkwardly clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth, pulling away and leaning in to hold you close.

“Guess it’s my turn to apologize now. Hers. Always. But you’re pretty cool, too, I suppose.” His voice is light, unbothered. It makes Carlos tick furiously, though he doesn’t dare show it. You can’t pinpoint the moment tension rose up, snapping you out of your trance. Blinking hastily, you aim a sour snarl at the Spaniard.

“We were sort of having a good time, so…” You shoo him away with a jeweled hand. “I just don’t want to kill the vibes. You understand, right?” Barely giving him a chance to respond, you turn back to your conversation, leaving Lalo and Rupert to appear puzzled, but stupidly playing along.

With a raw click of the tongue, the 29 year old takes a step forward, leveling down to your ear. “Pretend all you want, but you’re still wearing my initials around that pretty wrist of yours.” And walks away.

It was true. Your parents had gifted you a lucky charm bracelet for your fourteenth birthday, and Carlos greedily beat everyone to it. A car, for your love for Formula One. A chili, a shy thank you for his nickname. An ice cream, well, because you just loved ice cream. And a cursive CS. For him.

Watching him walk away left you with a hole in your heart. You did not need a reminder like that on a day like this. Wearing it was purely out of habit, it had no meaning to it anymore. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. The need to use the restroom was a complete lie as you wordlessly peek for the broad Spaniard. You spot his glossy shoes first, sticking out the photo booth.

“Scoot,” you say, gently cramming him in deeper. Once you get situated, you slide the silver charm off, handing it over to him. “Here.”

He furrows his dark brows. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t want anything tying me back to you anymore. It was kind—sweet—but that was past you. You’re cruel, mean, rude, a fucking jerk now. I don’t like that, so— here.”

“I don’t want it,” he retorts, curling your flat hand into a fist, forcing you to hold it tight.

“Well I don’t either, so what is there to do? You know what; I’ll just sell it. It’s not even that significant,” you mumble, already making your way out, but not before he hauls you back. Falling straight onto his thigh. You can feel your pulse quicken, your cheeks tingle, and your eyes suddenly burn. “Let me go,” you squeal, trying your best to weasel out of his grip. He groans, placing a large hand on either side of your hips, pushing you down.

“No. Just listen to me first.” Sighing, you nod. You should be climbing off; there’s room for two. He should be pushing you off; there’s room for two. But none of that happens as he clears his throat, rehearsing his words over and over before you raise a neat brow, waiting for him. “Perdón. Por todo.”

Not what you were expecting and he could tell when you let out a small gasp. Nervously, he licks his lips, admiring your plump ones that don’t lay too far off from his own. “I used to be so proud of you when we were just kids. When you first admitted you wanted to race too. It was adorable, the way your eyes lit up.” Your breath deepens, unknowing of what this was leading to. “But I’ve always been proud. That’s never changed.”

“You’re a terrific liar,” you timidly chuckle, patting his shoulder, making him back off a little. But he only ricochets forward, twice as close. Your insides churn.

“You don’t know how fucking happy I was when you got a seat. Over the moon. But I won’t lie; I was hurt and said some shitty things that have no excuse tied to them. I know I hurt you—I know that now. But that feeling vanished when worry came creeping in. I don’t want you to sign that contract.”

You flinch, reality crashing down on you once again as you examine the Ferrari driver. “Why apologize if you haven’t changed? My feelings aren’t a joke,” you whimper pathetically, tears sliding down your cheeks, soft brows drawn together.

He panics, gingerly brushing them away to the best of his ability and you don’t have the power to fight him off anymore. You’re too busy getting your heart broken once again by the same man.

She’s beautiful. Insanely—it’s insane. Her eyes are a shade of green I’d never thought I’d like.

I once wore a shade of green shorts last summer and you called them ugly. Said it looked like vomit.

Carlos sighs dreamily, dominantly shaking his head.

Well crap. I must’ve changed my mind.

Present him, was taking in your frantic sobs and he doesn’t know how else to calm you if it's not by rubbing your back gently. It takes a while, but you eventually ease up, occasionally letting out a shaky breath. “First of all, let me tell you why I did everything within me for you not to sign. It’s no good.”

You tilt your head in confusion, nose runny as he hands you his handkerchief. “I-I’m confused.”

Carlos chuckles. “What was the one thing I would always complain to you about when I was away racing?” Lack of privacy? “Okay, second thing I raved about…” When you don’t answer, he sheepishly wiggles his brows. “How tired I was with my team. It’s exhausting because like it or not—we’re not at our prime. I don’t think we will be for a couple of years. But for my benefit, I’ll be gone, and then it’s only going to fall on-”

“Me,” you finish, glossy eyes dancing through his painful expression.

He nods. “Listen, Charles will be fine. Mentally not, but he’ll do just okay. It’s you I’m worried about. Not only will you dive in, nose first into a world of ruthless men, but you’ll always be the entire blame. In their eyes, it'll be you. What did you do wrong? How could you fuck up? And sure, you might sometimes—it's inevitable— but other times you won’t. But you’re a girl, and that’s enough for the fingers to be pointed at you.”

Shaking your head profusely, you instantly reach up to catch your hair from falling from its tiring up-do. He helps you out, combing his fingers nicely, though this time it doesn’t get rid of the queasy feeling. He was right. God, why did he have to be right?

“I’m well aware of what I’m about to get myself into. But I think I can handle it. I can’t not do it—imagine how many girls it would help pave the way for? I’m sure as fuck it won’t be easy, and it might threaten my sanity, but I need to do this. And I’m sorry.”

An unfamiliar wave crashes against his warm eyes, a low breath being expanded into the air. You can feel it, taste it. Mint mojito. Your body told you, you liked it, with the way you wanted to lean in and kiss him—just to confirm. Pursing your lips, you continue. “You have your future decided and I have mine.”

With a hesitant bow, and a tide of curls flying forward, he clears his throat. “You’ve always been this way. Dedicated. And I could never decipher why. Until now.” He can’t help but brush his nose against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, allowing him to appreciate your pretty features. “If you’re sure, then I’m right behind you.”

You almost want to laugh, but are too scared to ruin the moment, so instead count his freckles. “I am…” A sharp inhale. “But what’s the second thing?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said ‘first of all’. I would assume there’s more…” You know there is, but you just want to hear him say it aloud. You’d seen the way he glared viciously at Lalo, chest firming. You’d seen the way things had shifted between you two, months prior, after his break up.

If this racing thing doesn’t work out, you would make a killer artist. He whistles.

Down boy, you joke. It’s just a swan. I resonate with them.

He sits up straighter. Then consider me a swan, too.

You laugh loudly, tossing your head back as he smiles. Why all of a sudden?

Just.

“It took me a while to get here, but I’m here.” He cradles your delicate face. “I think I love you. I-I mean I know I love you. Your stubbornness, your compliance. Your level-headedness, your intrusive actions. Your need to persevere and be better—even if others make it hard on you.” You giggle, poking his chest. “But above all, I love the way you made me work for it. I’m glad you did because how else could I have realized if you didn’t drag that dead-beat?”

“Hey! He’s nice!”

The 29 year old tsks. “Nice isn’t enough and you know it.” His pink lips graze over yours as you lean in too. “You’ve always been a smart girl…” He’s about to kiss you when you slide back, leaving him hanging. He clenches his jaw, seeming teased.

“I love swans because I know I can love as deep as one.”

“I can too.”

“And I know, you know, that I love you too.”

“I do know that.”

“And I lit you up on fire, but only on paper!”

His brows furrow. “Yeah, we can circle back to that. But I don’t care. I love all that about you. And I want you to know my father has always been proud of you.” He winks. “But never as much as me.”

“We’re doing this then?” you ask nervously. “Y-you’re still going to have to grovel. I don’t give up that easily. Especially after all you’ve put me through.”

Carlos gently nods, eyes adoring you. “I’ve waited more than a decade for this moment. What’s one more?”

And he kisses you.

taglist: @urfavnoirette @lpab @d3kstar @namgification @myownwritings

*feel free to let me know if you would like to be included in the general taglist!!

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limeade-l3sbian · 7 months

Text

Who was Kagney Linn Necessary?

(the gofundme for her memorial/funeral will be at the end.)

Kagney Linn Necessary was born in Harris County, Texas in 1987, and raised in St. Joseph, Missouri and in Ridgway, Pennsylvania. [x]

In her early years, she moved to California with ambitions of becoming an actress and a singer but entered work as an exotic dancer before signing with LA Direct Models, a pornographic agency. Karter entered the adult film industry in September 2008.[x]

But that wasn't the entirety of who Kagney was. At face value, the only information I could find with a quick search was the basic information above from Wikipedia. All anyone seemed to know about her was who she was when she was in the "industry." I wanted to see what I could find about her, the person. Not Kagney Linn Karter, but Kagney Linn Necessary.

I raked through interviews she had, her personal social media accounts, and any other articles that I could find just to find any little facts about her that I could.

I thought about omitting her time within the porn industry to focus solely on everything else except that. But I feel it would be tasteless to keep it out. I think it needs to be mentioned. I think it is important to show that women pulled into the porn industry are not these separate beings from any other woman with dreams. This was a 36 year old woman who was just like any other woman who was preyed upon.

Necessary released an EP, The Crossover, in 2018. In 2022, Karter released her debut album, titled The Take Over. [x] She would post clips of her singing covers of songs as well as songs from her upcoming EP on her Instagram.

In 2022, she began learning how to play the piano, even posting a video of her progress.

Necessary was also a recovering addict. In 2021, she posted about the things that helped her stay clean and how she was pleased at having a second chance at life. In an interview, she was intentionally vague about the substances she used, only referring to them as "candy" and "a little bit of everything." But with no insurance or money for rehab, she opted to detox herself at her parents home, working at their tanning salon for free in exchange for "produce."

She moved from Los Angeles to Ohio in 2019 and got involved with pole dancing fitness studios before being involved the opening of one in Akron, called Alchemy Pole Fitness. She posted many videos of herself having fun and practicing new/old moves.

In November 2023, she was posting pictures of her new house and how well it was coming together,

[their website leads to a website called Alchemy Space Studios and says that it was founded and run by a separate woman. But upon looking up the LLC for the business, Kagney is named as the registrant and she is named as the owner of the space in two separate articles.]

In 2015, Carter claimed musician Chris Brown paid her $2,500 to be his escort. She reportedly tweeted things like 'I WILL NEVER F*** A WOMAN BEATER EW DISGUSTING' and 'HE IS PURE EVIL' about Brown.

I just felt like adding that because what a queen.

From her students from the studio and friends, she was known to love animals, including her dog, Murphy, and had a deep devotion to the community she was cultivating in Ohio. She was known to be fearless and empathetic, creating her studio as a place for people to feel safe and accepted.

These were the things I could find of her from her personal accounts and the people who loved her. She wasn't an object that will be missed for what "uses" it had. She was a woman who had dreams, who had a community who love her, who had a husband who loves her, dogs she cared for and loved who loved her, and a mother who loves her. I didn't want her story to be another reblog of a lost life.

I know this post is sporadic and clunky, but I wanted to just grab any information I could without crossing boundaries (ex. contacting the family or something tasteless like that). I just wanted to share what she had already shared with the world.

Her friend, Megan Lee, has posted a gofundme that has already surpassed their goal. But I would still suggest donating if you are able. Rest in peace, Kagney Linn Necessary. 💜

#worked on this all morning trying to find sources #got emotional #gonna take it easy for the rest of the day #rest in peace

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fluentmoviequoter · 4 months

Text

Truth Serum

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: While searching for an abducted child, you and Tim are abducted and injected with truth serum.

Warnings: fluff, angst, child abduction, drugging, Tim and reader make out while working

Word Count: 2.6k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Bradford,” Wade calls over the radio. “We got an anonymous tip about the AMBER alert. The caller said a car matching the alert description was parked outside the Los Angeles Memorial Sports Arena.”

“We’re responding,” Tim replies. “Why the arena?” he asks you.

“It wouldn’t be very busy this time of day. Stay low there until there’s a crowd tonight and disappear with them,” you hypothesize. “Or something happened, and they had to stop.”

Tim nods as he turns on the shop’s lights. He doesn’t want to alert the abductor that the police are coming, but he needs to get there fast. Once you find the car, you’re a step closer to recovering the kidnapped child. The AMBER alert is several hours old, and the longer it takes, the more your chances of finding the child healthy and alive diminish.

“Take the next left,” you tell Tim. “If we can get in the back way, they shouldn’t see us coming.”

Tim takes your advice without argument, which surprises you. Calls with kids are some of the hardest, but when you know one’s in danger, everything changes. Part of what makes Tim such a good cop is his ability to separate his emotions, but the moment you got the AMBER alert notification, he tightened his grip on the wheel and told dispatch to let you and him patrol for the car.

“There it is,” Tim murmurs as he stops behind a partial wall in the parking lot.

The silver sedan you’ve spent the morning hunting for waits in a parking spot as if it’s just a normal day. You can’t see signs of anyone in the car, and Tim opens his door quietly and steps out. As you open your door, you notice something under the sedan less than 100 yards from you.

“Tim, it’s a trap,” you say quickly.

He turns toward you and gestures for you to get back in the car, but the car explodes, and you’re slung back against the shop before you take another step. You reach toward Tim where he lays behind you, but a booted foot kicks your hand away.

“Time to serve and protect,” the man standing above you says.

He drops a wet rag on your face, and you lose consciousness before you realize it’s not water.

“Hey, c’mon,” Tim whispers.

He jostles your wrist with his fingertips as he demands you talk to him. When you realize that he’s asking for a response, you squeeze your eyes closed and grunt. Tim takes it as enough of a sign that you’re still alive and stops talking.

“Where are we?” you ask, blinking slowly. “Are you tied up?”

“Welcome back,” Tim murmurs grumpily. “You don’t handle chloroform very well.”

“My bad,” you reply sarcastically. “Have they been back?”

“No.”

“How mad are you?”

Tim makes a sound that you take as a sign to stop talking. For someone so eager to hear your voice a moment ago, your questions changed his mind quickly. Behind you, metal scrapes as a door opens. You hear heavy footsteps and assume that it’s the man who knocked you out.

“Glad to see you’re both feeling better. Need those minds as sharp and clear as we can get them,” he says. “I’m George.”

“And I’m the man in yellow,” you reply under your breath.

“Cute,” George murmurs. “You’re just here to help. If you found the car, you know about the kid.”

“The kid you abducted?” Tim asks.

“Details, details… Either you start telling me what you know, or I beat it out of your friend here.”

Tim’s fingers press against your wrist as he flexes beneath his restraints. George laughs, and you turn your neck painfully in an attempt to see him.

“You’ll get a turn,” George promises when he notices your movement. “If neither of you is feeling talkative, perhaps you need some courage.”

George walks around Tim, and you track him as he stops before you. He’s larger than he seemed in the parking lot. As he smiles down at you, you relax. If he thinks you’re intimidated, he has you where he wants you.

“Do you want to tell me anything?” George asks.

“Your right boot is scuffed,” you answer. “Little saddle soap would buff it right out.”

George clenches his jaw as he reaches into his pocket. He withdraws a syringe, and your eyes widen as you push back against the chair you’re tied to. His smile grows as he reaches for your forearm.

“Don’t,” you demand. “Don’t touch me.”

Tim moves behind you, but there’s nothing he can do to help.

“Don’t worry, Officer Bradford,” George calls. “You’ll get a turn too.”

George slides the needle under your skin and looks directly into your eyes as he depresses the syringe. He pulls the used needle out and tosses it into the corner of the room. After he pats your arm, he returns to Tim’s side.

“What was that? What is it?” you demand, pulling against your restraints.

A bead of blood appears on the surface of the skin. Tim is likely being injected too, but you need to know what George is pumping into you.

“Back up,” Tim growls from behind you.

“Gladly,” George answers. “To answer your question, sodium thiopental. Enjoy the next few minutes of control.”

As the door slams behind George, you exclaim, “Truth serum?”

“It doesn’t work,” Tim says.

“Yeah,” you agree. “But this idiot doesn’t know that.”

“And you want to pretend it does?” Tim questions. “For what?”

“He gets fed up and tells us what he knows… I hope.”

Tim hums and his fingers press against your skin. “Let’s try it.”

“Hello again,” George says as he returns.

“Hi,” you blurt out.

“So glad to hear some excitement. We’ll start easy. Why are you here?”

“Because we’re cops and someone said the AMBER alert car was here,” Tim answers.

“Oh, so grumpy does speak,” George muses happily. “In that case...”

George grabs the side of your chair and spins it quickly. You’re beside Tim now; his arm is pressed to yours and you can look at him without straining. The plan is working already.

“Glad you’re okay,” Tim tells you.

“Not the truth we’re looking for,” George interrupts. “Tell me, what do the police think?”

“Lots of things,” you answer. “You-“ you interrupt yourself off with a giggle – “you have to be more specific.”

“Where do they think the kid is?” George clarifies.

“With the bad guy,” Tim says. “The guy who drives the silver sedan… Did you steal it?”

“Do they have a name, a face? Who is the suspect?” George is getting agitated, exactly as you hoped.

“A face...” you repeat. You look toward Tim and say, “You… you have the prettiest face ever. I want to marry you.”

Tim takes the confession in stride, likely assuming that you’re still playing I’m high on sodium thiopental.

“You’re the best partner I’ve ever had,” Tim replies, leaning toward you.

“Listen!” George demands. He places his hand over your jaw to direct your face toward his. “Where is the kid?”

“The kid?” you ask, your voice distorted by his grip on your face.

“Mmhmm. Where did they take him?”

George releases your face, and you stretch your jaw out as you turn toward Tim.

“Kids… Tim, I want to have your babies. You’d have pretty babies. And smart babies.”

Tim nods along, but there’s a faraway look in his eyes that you don’t recognize. He’s either playing up the truth serum bit, or something else is happening. George slaps the side of your face before he storms out of the room. You smile at Tim, despite the deepening hand print covering your jaw.

“Pretty and smart babies?” Tim asks.

“You weren’t giving me anything to work with,” you point out with a shrug.

“I like listening.”

“Well, it is truth serum,” you murmur.

When George returns, he shoves a picture in your face.

“My son, where did they take him?” he demands.

“Son?” you and Tim ask together.

“Oh!” you exclaim when you see the picture. “George, listen, we can help. But you have to let us go.”

“Why would I do that? You people are the reason he’s gone!”

“George,” you repeat softly. “We know that the man who reported his abduction is really his stepfather, and half of the LAPD is looking for your son, but we don’t know where he is yet.”

“He never would’ve disappeared if you hadn’t taken him away from me!”

“Then let me help,” you implore.

George stares at you for a few seconds before he nods. He cuts your restraints and steps back as you stand. You pull Tim’s handcuffs from his belt as you move, just in case.

“Let’s go,” he commands.

You shake your head and point to Tim. “Both of us.”

“No,” George answers. “Help me and I’ll let you come back to get him later. We’re going.”

George grabs your arm and shoves you harshly toward the door. You could fight back, but without Tim to back you up, it would go poorly fast.

“Tim, I’ll be back,” you promise.

“Be careful,” he mouths silently.

You nod and hold his eyes until the door closes. As you follow George through the underground tunnel, you watch him closely.

“Dad!” someone yells deeper in the tunnel.

“George,” you say lowly. “What did you do?”

“He’s my son!” George bellows.

He turns toward you with your gun aimed at your chest. You raise your hands and maintain eye contact with him.

“This doesn’t end well for you,” you tell him. “What was the goal?”

“His stepdad is looking for him,” George explains. “I can’t lose my son again.”

“So… what?”

“You would bring him here, lure that monster here, and I would save my son!”

“George, it doesn’t work like that. You kill his stepdad, you injure me or my partner, and you go to prison. So that little boy in there still loses you. You’re stuck, George.”

“No!” he yells. “No, I have the gun and my son.”

“And when you have to run? You drag him with you?”

“I- we-“

“You didn’t think that far?” you guess. “You don’t get out of this, George. Not like this.”

“Dad!” his son yells again.

“He needs you right now. If you let me go, surrender, and return that little boy to his mother-“

“The court takes him again.”

“But you still get to see him. What’s better, George? Taking him from everything he loves or seeing him when it’s good for him?”

The gun falters in George’s hand, and when he begins to lower it, you surge forward. As your shoulder collides with his chest, you pull your gun from his grip. It fires into the tunnel as you wrestle George to the ground. The moment you push him to the concrete and secure your cuffs on him, George begins crying.

“Save the tears for your court date,” you respond. “Where’s my radio? My phone?”

George shakes his head, and you sigh in exasperation. You pull his shoulders to help him into a seated position against the concrete wall.

“Stay here,” you demand. George nods vehemently, and you ask, “Where’s your son?”

“Third door on the left,” he answers through sniffles.

You walk to the third door and open it carefully. The little boy runs to you and hugs your legs as he rambles about how his father took him from his mom’s house and won’t tell him anything.

“It’s okay, buddy,” you assure him. “Here, can you hold my handcuffs? I need someone to keep them ready until I come back.”

He nods and accepts the handcuffs. As he sits on the thin mattress behind him and toys with the mechanical lock, you return to the main tunnel. George doesn’t speak as you pass him, nor when you take the knife from his side.

You open the door to the room where Tim is waiting and step inside. He looks up quickly and blows out a large breath. His jaw tightens quickly, and you notice blood running down his left hand.

“George is in cuffs outside,” you say. You squat before Tim and begin cutting his restraints. “And his son is fine. Babysitting your cuffs at the moment.”

You set the knife aside and focus on gently freeing Tim's bloodied wrist, oblivious to how he watches you. His skin has been scraped raw from tugging against the rope to get out and get to you. He heard the gunshot and assumed the worst, then you came in like nothing happened.

The moment Tim is free, you stand and offer a hand to him. Tim knocks your hand out of the way as he stands. You begin to ask him if he’s okay, but his hands rise to your shoulders, his thumbs against the pillar of your neck. Before you finish the question, Tim presses himself closer to you and kisses you. You blink in surprise but melt into his affection quickly. As you slide your arms over his shoulder and move with Tim, you wonder how much of his action is adrenaline and if there’s anything in this that he means.

“Officer?” George’s son calls down the tunnel.

You step back and Tim drops his hands to your waist.

“That was…” you begin.

“Truth serum,” Tim finishes. “Let’s go.”

He brushes past you, trailing his right hand over your waist. Outside, he leads George out as you carry his son back into the sunlight. The young boy clings to you, and you comfort him as Tim uses the radio in the shop to alert dispatch and request backup.

“Where’s our stuff?” Tim asks George as he shoves him against the dented back door.

“Threw it in here,” George mumbles against the glass.

“He may be a kidnapper, but he’s no thief,” you murmur.

“You see those dents?” Tim asks lowly, so George’s son doesn’t hear. “Those were made when you tried to kill two cops. All of this for a little boy you’re never going to see again.”

George begins crying again, and Tim rolls his eyes as he looks away. Tim may be good at hiding his emotions on the job, but you know better than anyone that he still feels them and feels them deeply.

The first of many patrol cars pulls into the parking lot, and you nod at Tim before you’re pulled away in the hectic moments that follow your heroic recovery.

You knock on the door once, then pull your hands behind your back. Part of you expects that the door will remain closed, but Kojo barks as Tim opens the door.

“Hi,” you greet, rocking back on your heels. “I- uh- I just wanted to thank you for everything today.”

“Come in,” Tim invites.

You walk past him, remembering what it felt like to have his hands on you and his lips against yours. As you turn back to Tim, he steps into your space.

“Was any of it true?” he asks.

“It’s called truth serum for a reason,” you whisper.

Tim fails to hide his smile as he says, “Then you think I have a pretty face?”

“The prettiest ever,” you agree.

“And you want to have my babies.”

“I’m pretty sure I said I wanted to get married first,” you point out happily.

Tim’s hands raise toward your face, but he stops when he sees the bruise along your jaw. You catch his left arm and kiss his bandage, the injury underneath caused by concern for you.

“I was going to say I love you,” you murmur. “But I didn’t think you’d believe me.”

“It’s truth serum. I wanted to believe it all,” Tim answers.

“Then kiss me again,” you request softly.

Tim does exactly as you ask, takes your face gently between his hands, and kisses you. It’s just as shocking and enlivening as the first time, and you smile against his lips because it was true. It was all true.

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford fic #tim bradford x you #the rookie #the rookie x reader #the rookie abc #fem!reader #hanna writes✯

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marksmelodies · 10 months

Text

forever only

idol eric x fem reader

genre: angst, smut, fluff

warnings: suggestive, mentions of sex, unprotected sex, lots of kissing

note: if you haven’t watched eric’s LA vlog on theboyz youtube channel you definitely should before reading this since it’s heavily based on that!

minors dni

—————————————————————————

walking out of your apartment in los angeles you head to your favorite cafe down the street, walking through the door hearing the bell chime as you enter, you order your coffee and sit at a table finishing up some work for college. fall semester just started and it was always the most stressful but this time around you didn’t sign up for many classes making the workload a lot easier to handle

you could finally focus on dance a little more which is your passion ever since you could walk your parents put you in dance and you absolutely flourished. now a college student you spend most of your time teaching dance classes, mostly hip hop because that was more of your style

as you work on your computer with your headphones on you hear a text message notification go off, ignoring it you continue with your work, until it goes off again, you check your phone to see a message from an unknown number

unknown #: hey y/n, it’s been a long time, i hope you’re doing well! i just wanted to let you know that i will be in LA for a few days this week with my group, if you aren’t busy tomorrow, i’m having a get together with miles at my place to meet my members you should come too

unknown #: oh this is eric by the way

your heart immediately drops as a state of nausea washes over your body “ god damn it miles” you cuss under your breath as you call him

“ yo what’s up” he answers the phone

“ you’ve got to be kidding me” you sigh

“ what’s wrong with you?” he asks

“ what’s wrong with me? oh i don’t know maybe what’s wrong with me is i just got a text from eric.. eric sohn” you whisper yell over the phone as you exit the cafe to get some fresh air

“ oh yeah i gave him your number” he laughs

“ why, why would you do that” you yell

“ he asked about you, he wants to see you again y/n” miles sighs

“ i don’t understand why you would give him my phone number after the whole reason why i got a new one was to avoid him”

“ listen y/n it’s been years, don’t you think it’s time to see him again, he asks about you all the time and i’m tired of making up excuses to why you avoid him, he hasn’t been back to los angeles since he left freshman year and the first thing he asked me is if he can possibly see you again while he’s here” miles says

you feel the tears begin to pull from your eyes

“ it’s just really hard for me miles, you don’t think i want to see him too? i want nothing more than to see him again, to see how far he’s come, but i don’t know if my heart is ready for that”

“ i know, but it’s been years maybe it’s time to truly move on and hopefully seeing him can give you enough closure to do so” he says

“ yeah maybe your right” a long pause comes from you before you speak again

“ i’ll go tomorrow” you say

“ good, i’m glad to hear that, everything will be okay i promise” he says, after hanging up the phone you walk back into the cafe packing up your stuff and heading back home,as you sit on the bed looking at the message eric sent you finally get the courage to respond

“ sounds great i’ll be there” you text back before shutting your phone off

you and eric met in middle school, he was popular due to his talent in baseball, all the girls obsessed over him, not you though at least not at first,you had biology class together and eventually got assigned to do a project with one another, after that you two became inseparable, eric introduced you to your now best friend miles and the three of you became the friend group that everyone wanted to be apart of

as time went on you started to have a little crush on eric, that crush only got bigger and bigger as you two got older, eric felt the same way about you, although eric had been in total awe the second he laid his eyes on you for the first time, the more he got to know you the more he fell in love, the summer going into your eighth grade year eric confessed his feelings to you and you confessed back

your relationship with eric was very lighthearted, a simple middle school fling, acting the same way towards eachother as you did when you were just friends maybe with the benefit of hand holding but that was it, to everyone’s surprise you both made it over a year which was super long for a middle school relationship, but you and eric were truly in love and a lot of people underestimated your feelings for each other

you remember the day that eric told you he was leaving to move to korea to pursue his dreams , you were heartbroken but being the supportive person you were you didn’t let him see how sad you were about it, you gave him all the best wishes and the two of you split up on good terms, you both knew it was impossible to continue this relationship when you would be across the world from each other

that wasn’t the last time you saw eric though, once you became a senior in high school you and your dance team got invited to a dance workshop in seoul south korea, of course the universe just had to mess with you because during your trip you ran into him while visiting the han river late one night, one thing led to another and you ended up hooking up with him that night.. and the next morning…in full retrospect the intimate moments you shared with him during that trip was amazing but after you left it made you feel like shit, you kept in contact with eachother for a few months after you saw him but eventually the text messages became less frequent and then just stopped all together, it was your own fault letting him break your heart for the second time, you got your own hopes up, you couldn’t blame him for his inconsistency, you saw how busy his life had become, how hard he worked everyday without a break.

but selfishly you wished sometimes that he would have stayed in LA, become a college student like yourself and the two of you could be together again, maybe even be on the road to getting married and building a life together, you knew that was never in the cards for him, he was meant to be an idol there was no doubt about it but every so often you find yourself thinking about an alternate reality, one where the two of you could be together for good

that night was rough on you, tossing and turning over all the possibilities that could come out of the events of tomorrow, being honest with yourself you don’t even know how you’re going to look him in the eyes without falling in love with him all over again. as if you got over him in the first place, which newsflash.. you never did

waking up in the morning was hard, your alarm blared in your ears as you crawled out of bed. you spent most of the day mentally preparing yourself to see eric again, miles had arrived not too long ago as you were getting yourself ready

“ does this look too slutty” you say doing a turn in your bikini for your best friend

“ no you look good, hurry up though we’re going to be late” he says. quickly throwing on a minidress as a coverup you both leave your place as you head over to eric’s house

“ are you nervous” miles asks noticing your leg shaking up and down as you sit in the passenger seat

“ yeah i am, i feel like im going to throw up everywhere” you respond, finally pulling up to eric’s place you can hear the music playing and some faint yelling coming from the pool

getting out of the car you walk through the back gates to the pool area, standing behind miles trying to shield yourself from the sight of eric. that didn’t work “ miles, y/n, over here” eric waved the two of you down

walking over to the big canopy and a large table filled with a ton of korean dishes you finally stand there in front of eric for the first time in a long time, eric walks up to miles dabbing him up and then turning to you, he smiles at you pulling you into a hug “ im glad you made it y/n it means a lot that you’re here” he says

his familiar scent fills your nostrils causing you to gain a wave of nostalgia, pulling away you flash a tight lipped smile at him. “ guys this is my best friend miles and this is my friend y/n” eric says hesitating on the word friend, his members all smile and wave as you both do the same back

you sit next to miles during dinner, thankfully eric is across the table filming a vlog for the groups youtube channel, once dinner was finished everyone decided to go swimming

setting your stuff down on a chair you begin to take your dress off leaving you in nothing but a tiny bikini, you felt eyes on you, turning around eric’s eyes met yours before he turned away quickly trying not to make it obvious that he was staring at you

“ hey” eric walks up to you “ hey” you respond back looking to the ground “ im sorry if it’s awkward seeing me again” he says itching the back of his neck

“ no it’s fine it’s not awkward” you say completely lying. “ i missed having you around you know” eric says looking into your eyes “ yeah i missed you too” you say as you feel your heart beating out of your chest

he looked so good with nothing but his swim trunks on, his toned upper body out for display. “ let’s go in the pool yeah?” he asks

“ yeah i just have to put my hair up” you say to him as he gives you a look

“ you never changed have you” he laughs “ you’re going to get your hair wet regardless” he rolls his eyes at you

“ fine whatever” you say leaving your hair down

you walk with him to the deep end of the pool, everyone is already in but the two of you, “okay let’s jump in together on the count of three ready..one.. two… three..” eric counts, you had planned to pretend to jump in that way eric would have been the only one to actually jump but eric had the same idea as you

you both laugh as eric approaches you “ no eric don’t” you yell before he pushes you into the pool

quickly swimming up to the surface of the water you put your hand out to eric “ what the hell eric, at least help me out” you yell as eric grabs your hand. before he could pull you up you yank your arm back pulling him into the water with you

“ i should’ve saw that coming” he says laughing

“ i can’t believe you fell for that” you laugh

joining the others in a game of water spikeball miles makes eye contact with you smirking as you and eric continuously flirt with each other

“ that was a point” you yell to eric

“no it wasn’t” he yells back

“ yes it was” you splash water on him, he walks closer to you splashing you back before picking you up, eric lifts you up throwing you into the water, he swims over to you as you splash water in his face one last time “ that was mean” you say to him

he tucks a strand of lose hair behind your ear “so pretty” he whispers, the two of you now inches away from each other, you wanted nothing more than to kiss him right then and there but before anything could happen one of eric’s members yells for him to come join in the game again

eventually you get out of the pool, feeling tired from the continuous swim races that eric challenged you to even though you beat him every time. eric approached you sitting on one of the chairs “ come back in” he whines

“ no i’m tired of swimming” you say looking up at him “please y/n i’ll carry you” he says. you nod your head yes, knowing you could never say no to him “ sure” you say walking to the steps of the pool

all the guys had gotten out and were now inside the house talking to eachother, leaving just you and eric alone together in the pool. it had gotten dark, the sun was long gone, the pool light shined as you swam over to eric wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, he looks down at you smiling as he places one of his arms around your waist and the other on your ass to hold you up, you knew it was wrong, you knew that you shouldn’t be doing this but when it came to eric all of your sense left your brain and you begin to think with your heart instead

you lay your head on his shoulder as he carries you to the deep end sitting down on the ledge “ i meant what i said earlier, i really missed you pretty girl” eric whispers

“ i meant when i said i missed you too” you say lightly kissing the side of his neck. he rubs his hand up and down your back as the other rubs your thigh, taking your head off of his shoulder looking up at him, both of your eyes locking , you feel butterflies in your stomach as eric moves closer and closer until finally his lips are on yours

the kiss was passionate, you both had been waiting for this moment for a long time, he moves in closer holding the side of your face as one of your hand reaches into his hair while the other is pressed against his chest, you softly moan into the kiss as eric moves your bottoms to the side before entering his finger into your pussy without breaking the kiss

“ fuck eric” you moan noticing his eyes are now darker than they were before “ you’re so tight baby, when’s the last time you had sex” he asks kissing your neck “ the last time was with you” you say looking at him, eric smiles at the thought of no one else fucking you but him

he enters another finger into you causing you to moan loudly before eric covers your mouth with his other hand “ shh babygirl they can still hear you over the music, you don’t want anyone to hear us do you?” he says as he fucks you with his fingers “ fuck eric i’m gonna cum” you whine, he stops thrusting his fingers in you “ fuck yourself on my fingers baby” he says kissing your head, you feel the knot in your stomach tighten as you ride his fingers “ cum for me love” eric says, you throw your head back letting yourself ride out your climax releasing onto his fingers, you moan as your body begins to shake “ good girl” eric kisses your lips once again before letting you catch your breath as he fixes your bathing suit

getting out of the pool you notice eric’s dick poking out of his pants “ i feel bad let me help you” you say as he looks down at you “ i’ll be okay for now, i think somone will come looking for us if we’re out here any longer” he chuckles palming his boner

the sliding glass door opens “ hey we’re going start up a game of football if you wanna join” miles says poking his out of the door “ okay we’ll be right there” eric responds drying himself off as you do the same

sitting in the grass you watch majority of the guys play football, kevin and jacob walk up next to you as you invite them to sit down “ im finally meeting the girl eric won’t ever shut up about” kevin says looking to you

“ really he talks about me?” you ask

“ literally all the time” jacob responds

it goes quiet for a moment before kevin speaks again “ the two of you have chemistry you know?” he says. “ yeah we all could sense it the moment you got here” jacob adds

you sigh “ yeah that’s how it is with eric and i, no matter how long we go without talking to each other the moment we’re together we act as if we’re magnets constantly gravitating towards one another”

“ i haven’t seen eric this happy in a while” jacob states

“ yeah i’ve never seen him so in love” kevin says

“ you think he’s still in love with me?” you ask

“ oh we know he’s still in love with you” they both reassure you

“ i never stopped loving him you know, i did everything to avoid him, to stop thinking about him and look where it led me” you laugh looking over at eric who was running with the football in his hands

“ i think you should tell him that, he’s been beating himself up a lot about still being hooked on you all these years later” jacob says quickly stopping the conversation as eric approaches you

he sits down next to you pulling you into a hug “ ew eric get off of me your all sweaty” you yell pushing him off of you as he laughs hysterically, kevin and jacob smile at the sight of you both as you get up running away from eric as he tries to wipe his sweat on you. eventually capturing you in his arms eric throws you over his shoulder as you kick and scream pleading him to let you down

you are now all in front of the big tv everyone spread across the living room watching a horror movie, eric laid behind you on the couch as his arms wrapped around your waist, legs tangled together, at this point everyone had caught on that you and eric weren’t just “friends” miles smiles at the two of you cuddled on the couch. throughout the movie you and eric scream every so often hugging eachother tightly, everyone laughing at how scared you two are. as the move comes to an end eric moves closer to your face “ spend the night” eric whispers into your ear, “ okay” you say turning around placing a soft kiss to his lips

everyone except eric says goodbye to you and miles before leaving to go back to their hotel “ you ready to head out” miles asks you, you look at him before speaking “ um actually i think im gonna spend the night here with eric” you say to him, he lets out a big sigh before speaking again “ you know what’s going to happen if you do that right?” he asks as you nod your head yes

“ are you okay with having sex with him and then being thousands of miles away from each other again when he leaves, look i’m not going to tell you what to do with your life but this is exactly what happened last time” miles says

“ i don’t know what to tell you miles, im in love with him, im going to have alot more regret if i don’t spend every minute that i can with him before he leaves” you tell him. he pulls you into a hug “ you know i just care about you” he says before walking over to say his goodbyes to eric

“ i need to shower i feel gross” you say as he laughs bringing you up to his room, you and eric both shower together, it wasn’t in a sexual way but more of a romantic moment between to two of you, his hands roam your body as he washes your hair giving you kisses here and there as you do the same to him

as the two of you get out and dry off you feel eric’s naked body hug you from behind, his hard cock poking your back while he kisses your neck as you watch him in the mirror, feeling the warmth between your legs you can tell you’re getting wet for him “ i need you” you moan

that was all he needed to hear before picking you up and throwing you on the bed, leaning over you he hooks his mouth to one of your boobs while playing with the other, leaving open mouth kisses to your body, you trace his abs as you look into his eyes letting him know that you’re growing impatient, eric chuckles before kissing your lips, after spreading your legs eric drags his tip over your clit a few times causing you to whimper before lining his cock up with you as he slowly sides himself into your hole

“ oh my god eric” you choke out, as he stays still for a moment letting you get used to his size “ you’re so tight love” he says before slowly thrusting into you “ faster” you moan clawing at his back, eric brings one hand up to your neck while the other one grips your waist as he rams himself into you“ fuck baby you’re so wet for me” he grunts

turning you over leaving you on all fours arching your back for him, he grabs a handful of your hair before ramming into you once again causing you to scream when he hits your g spot “ you’re taking me so well babygirl, i’m so proud of you” he says as grab onto the sheets tears streaming down your face“ i’m coming” you moan as you squeeze around him, your hips shake repeatedly hinting that you had finished, “ good girl” he says flipping you around again once again placing your legs in his shoulders as he chases his own high, squeezing around him once again his thrusts become sloppy and rushed as he whimpers “ shit i’m coming” he says looking to you “ oh fuckkkk” he says moaning as you feel warm strings of him cum shoot into you, he stays inside of you as he wipes away your tears giving you multiple pecks on the lips “ you did so well for me baby, made me feel so good” he says pulling out of you watching his cum leak from your pussy as he used his fingers to push it back in causing moans to slip out form your mouth

the two of you weren’t even close to being done for the night, you went multiple rounds from having you on top riding him to him eating you out and then fucking you in front of the bathroom mirror, you both went at it, making up for lost time

the last round however was different, seeing you so fucked out made eric want to do nothing but be gentle with you, he layed you down on your stomach as he laid on top of you slowly thrusting into your pussy as he played with your hair, kissing on your shoulders “ as much as i love fucking you until you can’t walk nothing will ever beat making love to you” he whispers in your ear as you arch your back a little bit still lying down, his hands roam your body as he praises you “ you’re the most beautiful girl i’ve ever laid my eyes on” he carefully turns you over to look at your face

you wrap your legs around his torso as your hands play with his hair slowly and gently moving his length in and out of you“ i love you so much y/n” he says caressing your cheek, you look up at him “ i love you too eric” you say as he leans in to kiss you gently

after he came in you for the last time he cleaned you up putting the covers over your body before getting in bed with you, scooping you up into his arms he places a kiss on your forehead while gently rubbing your back “ eric?” you mumble into his chest “ yes sweet girl?”

“ did you mean what you said earlier about loving me” you ask looking up at him, he smiled before kissing your lips “ of course i did, i’ve loved you since i first laid my eyes on you, and i never stopped” he said raking his hands through your hair, you smile at his answer “ good because i never stopped loving you either”

a silence washed over the both of you until you spoke again “ eric?” you ask once more he chuckles at you “ yes sweet girl” repeats himself you stop and think about the question you’re going to ask “ is this the last time we’re going to see each other” your voice begins to tremble as your tears begin to fall onto his naked chest

“ oh sweetheart come here” he says pulling you up more so that your head in is in the crook of his neck as he rubs your back, “ look at me” he says as you sit up, eric places both of his hands on your cheeks wiping away your tears

“ i promise to do everything in my power to make sure that we see eachother a lot more often” he says before pulling you back into his chest as you begin to cry harder, “ i just never want to repeat what happened last time” you say trying to calm yourself down “ it won’t i’ll make sure of it” he says

“ im so sorry i stopped answering your calls and your messages, i just felt like i was holding you back on so many levels,i never wanted you to hold you back from finding love with someone who would be there for you way more than i could’ve” eric feels his eyes build up with tears, trying his best to hold them back, but he couldn’t causing him to break down, you lift your head up off of his chest when you feel eric’s body shake with his sobs

“ oh my god eric” you coo, the sight of the boy you had known since you were fourteen breaking down in front of you made you sob again along with him

eric had always been an emotional person, but around you he never showed that side of himself, for all the years of knowing you he was always the one wiping your tears not the other way around

you sit up placing his head to your chest letting him sob in the crook of your neck this this time. “ i don’t want to lose you again, i don’t think i can handle it this time” he says in between sobs. “ you won’t lose me eric i promise, if i start taking online courses for school i can visit you all the time and once i get my degree we can talk about me moving to korea” his head shoots up off of your chest “ y/n i cant ask you to leave everything and everyone you love behind just for me” he says, you shush him “ you’re not asking, i’m offering, eric i would move anywhere if it meant i get to be with you”

“ you would do that for me, leave everything you’ve ever know behind, move somewhere completely different on the other side of the world.. just for me” he asks. you chuckle at him before kissing his lips that taste like salt due to his tears

“ i would do it in a heartbeat” you say. as the two of you calmed down you lay back on his chest staring at the ceiling “ have you ever thought about our future together, like getting married and having kids” you ask looking to him, he looks down at you “ i think about it a lot actually, i think about how i would propose and what our wedding would be like, how beautiful you would look walking down the isle in your white dress, i think about how sexy you would be with the baby i put in your belly, how hot you would look waddling around pregnant with our child, you would make a hot mom by the way” he laughs

“ how about you? do you think about our future?” he asks raising his eyebrow “all the time, i think about marrying you a lot more than id like to admit, i think about having kids with you, i even think about you doing the sexy dad walk out of the hospital with our baby” you laugh

“ i promise one day we’ll get to experience all of that together”eric says before placing another kiss to your lips, he pauses before opening his mouth again to speak

“will you be my girlfriend again, this time for good” eric asks

“of course my love, i would love nothing more” you reply giving him one last kiss

“ goodnight i love you so much y/n”

“ goodnight eric i love you more”

you went to sleep peacefully that night, even though eric was leaving the next morning you felt content with his departure for the first time, you felt really confident in your relationship this time around, you knew you both were serious about doing anything and everything to be together as much as you could

you would have never believed that the boy you met in your middle school biology class would end up being the one you plan on sharing the rest of your life with, but here you are all these years later, that boy is now a man laying in your arms after a long night of making love to each other, your naked bodies tangled together as he lets out small snores, holding each other close promising to never let go again

—————————————————————————

i know i usually only write for nct but recently eric has been on my mind a lot so i needed to write for him hehe, i hoped you enjoyed <3

#youngjae #the boyz #eric sohn smut #eric sohn #eric sohn fluff #eric sohn fic #the boyz fanfic #the boyz fluff #the boyz fic #the boyz x reader #eric sohn x reader #eric sohn imagines #youngjae x reader #the boyz angst #the boyz smut #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz suggestive

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steddieasitgoes · 2 years

Text

Eddie is a rockstar at the Grammys and Steve is a clueless seat filler who sits next to him.

Walking around campus, Robin stumbles across a flyer encouraging people to apply to be seat fillers for the award season set to begin in Los Angeles. Robin brings it home to Steve and the two jokingly apply. They think nothing of it until three weeks before the Grammy Awards when they are sent a long email full of rules and NDAs for them to sign. At this point Steve tries to back out but Robin won’t let him -- promising that it’ll be fun and if it’s not he can take her to a basketball game of his choosing and she won’t complain once.

Fast-forward to the event and it’s not as glamorous as Robin was expecting. They’re not allowed to talk to any of the celebrities they sit next to and most of the time they’re standing out in the hall waiting for someone to leave their seat.

It’s a whole lot of waiting until 1/3 of the way into the broadcast when the artists start getting antsy and begin to mingle at the lobby bar. Robin gets sent out on seat filler business first and get shuffled around a few times before she winds up in the back of the line of fillers in the hallway. When another seat is vacated, she pushes Steve to the front since he hasn’t seen any of the show yet -- too busy letting others go in front of him because they are all more excited than him.

The coordinator escorts him to a row near the back of the celebrity section and instructs him to sit in the seat next to a gorgeous long-haired men with the most beautiful brown eyes Steve’s ever seen. The man in question smiles and nods his head in acknowledgment before turning back to the conversation he was having with his seat mate.

Several minutes pass and Steve waits for the coordinator to come get him but no one does. During the next commercial break, the gorgeous man turns and starts chatting with him. Steve knows he’s not allowed to talk to the talent, but he doesn’t recognize the guy so he figures he must be another seat filler. The guy’s not dressed in a suit like the rest of the celebrities and he’s all the way in the back of the section so he figures he must not be someone important. They spend the next three commercial breaks mindlessly chatting about the acts and Steve learns this guy is really passionate about music.

If he’s honest, he’s sort of smitten with this dude and he doesn’t even know his name. He tells himself at the next commercial break he’s going to ask what his name is and spends the next several minutes brainstorming how to casually bring it up.

All of it is for not, though, because suddenly the Grammy Award for Best Metal Performance is being announced and there’s a camera next to Steve pointed directly on the beautiful man beside him. The nominees are read and the beautiful man smiles bashfully at the camera when “Chrissy Song” Lyrics by Eddie Munson, performed by Corroded Coffin is announced. And then he’s leaping to his feet when the song wins and Steve watches in stunned silence as the beautiful man (aka Eddie Munson) graciously pats him on the shoulder before scooting past him to accept his Grammy Award.

Steve feels embarrassed and tries to run for the hills -- surely he should have known who this Eddie guy was and yet all of that disappears when Eddie makes some comment about this being the best night of his life -- not just because he won a fucking Grammy but also because his manager is MIA leaving him sitting next to the cutest seat filler of all time.

(Robin shouts at Steve for three whole days when they get back to their apartment and they watch the recorded broadcast. The shouting stops on day four, but starts back up on day five when she receives an email from the coordinator asking for Steve’s contact information.

Eddie calls him half an hour later.)

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #platonic stobin #stobin ficlet #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson ficlet #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #dani writes

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reyadawn · 1 month

Text

My Protector - Part 2

*image not mine, credit goes to Bryan 😆

Summary: Noah Sebastian is the President of Bad Omens MC in Los Angeles, California and a woman running from her past crosses his path. Noah instantly wants to save her. Make her his. However, her past needs to be dealt with first...

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings: 🔞+, language, slight violence, kissing, choking, slight Mean!Noah if you squint, unprotected sex (WRAP IT), creampie

Word Count: 🤷‍♀️😆

Enjoy! ❤️✌️

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

I had never really given much thought to living on the West Coast but the Universe had other plans. It's funny how your life can change...how people can change. That's why when my friend Kay called me and offered me a job at Third Base, I took it as a sign I was meant to leave this old life behind. Just like she did. Although, I was a little surprised to find out it was a bar.

"Believe it or not, it's a fanastic place. Always busy, plenty of tips, good food, hot biker guys...including my old man, Jolly", Kay had explained.

"Kay...", I started.

"You need to get out. You have to. It's not mentally safe or healthy for you there with Larry. The emotional abuse he's putting you through is destroying you. Bad Omens will protect you. Misty and I will, too. They have a club house you can stay at until you get an apartment or you can crash with me", Kay replied.

I smoothed out the front of my Bad Omens tank top that I wore over my black leggings. I hated the way they fit, like I was trying to pour myself into the material. Too much skin in places I didnt want but never really could get rid of. I looked pregnant from the side, despite the fact I wasnt. I grabbed a black and white checkered flannel from my closet and threw it on, rolling the sleeves up my forearms. I threw my hair up in a bun and threw on my socks and black ankle boots.

Walking out of the bathroom, I suddenly stopped in the bedroom and looked around. It was masculine in the sense the bedding was all black and blue, nightstand and dresser were dark stained wood, even the sheer curtains were navy. The walls remained a neutral taupe. I hated being at the Bad Omens clubhouse and not having my own place. I still didnt know who's room I got set up with but I made sure to keep it clean and neat, making it a point to only touch my things.

As I was grabbing my purse from the black Lazy-Boy in the corner, the door to the bedroom opened and the man who stepped inside had me quite literally salivating and I almost lost the grip on my purse. This man was an Adonis if I ever saw one. Tall, at least 6'3, short dark hair falling into dark brown eyes, a small but perfectly shaped nose and full lips that had me wanting to get down on all fours and crawl to him.

This man wore dark camo pants and a solid black t-shirt, arms and neck displaying the most beautiful tattoos; even his large hands and long fingers were tattood. He reached up, running a hand through his hair and the muscles in his arms buldged. I must have been staring because he smirked and took a step closer to me. I all but had to crane my head back to look up at him. Short people problems, gotta' love it.

"How are your accomodations, pretty girl?", he asked, his deep voice caressing over my senses like a lovers hand. I swallowed. It was all I could muster, I was rendered so speechless. He must get this a lot though, poor guy. He chuckled, reaching out to tuck a small lock of hair behind my ear. "I'm Noah. Club President and this is my room".

That snapped me out of my trance completely, taking a small step back from him which garnered me a dark scowl of distaste. Evidently, he didn't like that.

"I'm so sorry, Sir. I'll have Misty get me a different room. I don't want to intrude", I rambled, turning back to the chair to grab my keys. A tattooed hand suddenly shot out to lock around my wrist and stilling my movements.

"First of all, pretty girl, lose the 'Sir'. I'm not that old. Noah is fine. Second of all, you're not changing rooms. You're staying here where you can be looked after", Noah replied. I yanked my wrist from his grip, glaring defiantly at him.

"Let's get something straight, President..."

Noah's eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"I'm not a child, therefore, I don't need a babysitter. I can hold my own. Don't make the mistake of thinking you own me, I belong to no one. I'm nothing to no one. Mean nothing. Never have, never will so save your protection detail for a real damsel in destress", I stated, hands on my hips. Noah stepped closer once again, fingertips gently tracing my jaw and down my neck. I shivered, goosebumps dancing along my skin and my panties growing damp. He lifted my chin, raising my gaze to his.

"Who hurt you, pretty girl?", he whispered. I lowered my eyes to his chin, unable to answer. "Tell me. Now". I shook my head.

Noah sighed before eveloping me in his arms, his solid body providing whatever comfort he could. I wasn't aware I needed the contact as I reluctantly wrapped my arms around his midrift. He was solid...and warm. I closed my eyes at the feeling of his strong body in my arms.

"I've got you", Noah added, voice vibrating in his chest against my cheek. "I won't let anyone hurt you". Regaining my senses, I pulled away and sniffled, turning to straighten my clothes and threw my purse over my shoulder.

"You don't know what he's like", I replied, wiping a stray tear from my cheek.

"Did he touch you?", Noah asked darkly. I blinked at his change in demeanor before shaking my head. "Verbal?", he added. I nodded curtly. Noah's lips drew into a thin line before he reached into his pants pocket, pulling a cell phone from it and handing it to me. I knew what he wanted as I typed my number in and saved it to his contacts before handing it back. Noah's fingers momentarily flew over the keys and my own phone dinged. "I expect to be on speed dial".

"I need to get to work or Misty will have my ass", I said, moving towards the door.

"Me first", Noah said, causing me to whirl at him in shock. He grinned fully, perfect white teeth flashing before motioning to lead the way. I walked through the main living area of the clubhouse, waving at Jolly, Nicholas and Davis before stepping through the double doors and into the warm L.A sun. I stopped to breathe in the fresh air before letting out a moan of renoun pleasure at the open space.

"You do that again around me and I'll fuck you over this goddamn bike", Noah said from behind me. I spun around, Noah's hand grabbing my forearm firmly but gently. I stared up at him in shock as he looked down at me from behind Neo-like sunglasses. "Keys. Now". I silently handed him my keys before turning and heading to my car. This was going to be a long ten minutes...

******************************************

Walking into Third Base, Noah hot on my heels, I was met with the smell of bar food, cigar smoke and bouts of laughter from crowded tables. Kay walked by, auburn hair thrown in a messy ponytail, and shot me a wink as she carefully balanced a large tray of drinks to a table in the back corner of the bar. There were a series of pool tables, a jukebox and overhead cieling fans that barely did anything to mask the heat.

Misty appeared around the corner, clipboard in hand and approached us.

"Thanks for bringing her by, Prez. I'll see she's looked after", she said, grabbing my hand to pull me after her but before I could take a step, Noah turned me to face him, lips descending upon my own in a short but heated kiss that left my lips tingling and my clit throbbing as he pulled away. Giving my ass a playful slap, Noah sauntered off to a nearby pool table where he met up with a few other chapter members. Misty and I suddenly looked at each other, facial expressions of mirrored shock clearly readable.

"The hell just happened, Misty?", I whispered harshly, a few other patrons watching me, all smirking.

"From the looks of it, I'd say the President of Bad Omens just claimed you as his old lady...publicly, I might add", she replied and turned towards the bar. I followed her without a word, bitting my bottom lip to hide my smile.

Most of the night was uneventful as Kay and I ran kitchen orders and served at the bar. I was in the process of cleaning off one of the tables when a voice behind me had my grip slipping on the beer glass and it clattered to the floor sending shards of glass scattering.

"Hello, angel". I spun around so hard I damn near fell over a chair as I stared at Larry in shock and fear. "Thought I might find you here. Seems like your kinda rundown place but playtime is over. It's time to go. Now".

He hadn't changed much in the months since I last saw him. His icy gaze pinned me where I stood yet I still managed to shake my head.

"Over my dead body", I said, gritting my teeth. Larry tipped his head back and laughed, his dark spiky hair glistening from the overhead lamps. The guy really did use too much hair gel.

"That can be arranged. Now, get your shit and let's go", he said, his hand latching around my arm to haul me to his chest. I tried fighting out of his hold, tried kicking him but all he did was laugh. "Damn, you're a fucking hellcat. Stop fighting me so we can--", but his words suddenly died. Following his line of sight I gasped at seeing Noah, Jolly, Nicholas, Nick and Davis standing in front of the entrance to the bar. Surprisingly, it was Jolly who stepped forward.

"You know...you fuck with a chapter members' old lady and you fuck with the chapter member himself. Especially when that old lady belongs to the clubs' President", he said, running his tongue over his teeth. Out of the corner of my eye I could see Kay and Misty behind the bar, arms looped together, fear marring thier features.

"Club President? Of what? The Mickey Mouse Club? Get the fuck outta my way", Larry said moving to step forward but Jolly held up a hand. Larry stopped, irritation etching his fingers.

"Last chance, bro. Don't do this. Just walk away", Jolly warned.

"I don't have time for this shit. Move or I'll move you myself", Larry said, glaring at Jolly. Jolly simply shrugged and smiled as Noah steppd forward, hands behind his back. Larry looked up at him and the color drained from his face. Noah smiled.

"President", Larry said. Noah nodded once before his right fist shot out, connecting with the side of Larry's head. Noah caught me as Larry's body hit the floor and he gave me a quick peck before turning back to him.

"President of Bad Omens, to clarify, and if you ever come near my old lady again or even breathe in her direction then a right hook wont be the only thing you'll get served", Noah said, looming over Larry as he rubbed his jaw. Before I could say or do anything, Noah was pulling me after him around the bar and down a hallway. I barely had time to register the doors we passed as Noah led me into the 'OFFICE' and slammed the door.

"Noah, what--", I started but he cut me off with his lips. His hands pulled at my clothes to get them off and a wave of fear suddenly came to the surface at him seeing me naked but as he backed me up to the desk, lips kissing and biting thier way down my neck, I realized Noah didn't really give a fuck. My flannel shirt was tossed over his shoulder somewhere on the floor, my tank top was yanked down to expose my breasts and one of my boots joined the pile of clothes just for him to get one of my legs out of my leggings and hoist it up over his hip.

Noah's lips were like fire on my skin as I felt him pull my panties to the side to swipe his fingers through my drenched folds and graze my clit. My hips jerked in response and he chuckled against my skin before sinking two long fingers inside me to the knuckle. I threw my head back, letting out a pornographic moan I didn't care to hide as my walls clamped down on his fingers.

Noah's other hand was tearing at the zipper of his pants, freeing his painfully hard cock. He suddenly pulled his fingers free from my dripping cunt to push them into my mouth and I could taste myself on his tongue. Before I could say or do anything, he pulled his fingers from my mouth to wrap around my throat and haul my chest to his, lips crashing together. It was messy, all teeth and tongues.

I could feel the head of Noah's cock prod my dripping core and I gripped his muscular shoulders for purchase. A simple thrust had me stretching to accomodate and it burned oh so good.

I whimpered into Noah's kiss, his fingers squeezing ever so slighty around my throat as he thrust again, giving me a few more inches. My brain shut down, unable to process anything but the feeling of my pussy stretching around the thick rod between my thighs, feeling every ridge and vein caress my walls.

There were no words...there didn't need to be. I raked my nails down his arms, red streaks appearing in thier wake but Noah took no notice. Another thrust. A nother inch. It was agonizingly slow and I writhed beneath him, trying to pushing him deeper with my heel but he was much more powerful. More kisses to my chest and shoulder. Another thrust. Bite marks came next. I'd walk away looking like a leper but I didn't want him to stop. Noah's grunts and groans mixed with my own whimpers and cries as one last thrust had him seated inside me to the hilt. I had never been so deliciously full.

I pulled away from him only to sink my teeth into his shoulder as I screamed, my orgasm hitting me like a 2 x 4. Noah wasted no time, shuttling his cock almost ruthlessly inside my overstimulated pussy. I was so sensitive I was getting ready to come again, my nails digging into his flesh. Thrust after thrust had my body turning into putty, my brain remaining in a black out state and I let lose a scream, teeth sinking deeper. No doubt there'd be a bruise there for weeks.

Noah's pace increased, his hands griiping my hips like a vice. My thighs burned, legs were shaking as he gave a thrust so deep it sent me spiraling into another orgasm. Noah threw his head back, releasing a series of expletives as his cock twitched, rope after thick rope of come unloading inside me.

Noah held himself inside me as we struggled to catch our breath. I looked up at him through my lashes then, the euphoric look on his face causing my pussy to clench around him.

"Old lady, huh?", I asked between breaths. Noah nodded. "Well, so much for holding my own". We shared as smile as our lips met in a gentle kiss.

******************************************

@amourtoken @artificialstardust @bloodylullaby @bluestdai @collidewiththesavannah @concreteangel92 @concreteemo @dsireland86 @dreamstyles @dontcallme-angel @english-fucker @exitwoundsx @flowery-mess @fadingintothegrey @iamamatus @iluvmewwwww75 @kaliforniahigh @lilhobgobbler @lovexsleepyhead @lolitasangel @philomenie @sacredthefran @starsomens @sorrowsofsilence @millie-aubs @xcllnt @xmads-omensx @yarasdead

#noah sebastian #bad omens #noah sebastian fanfiction #holy shit #noah sebastian smut #bad omens cult

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thefallennightmare · 7 months

Text

One Night-Valentine's Day special

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings: lots of smut(mask play, spit play, bondage, anal, fingering, oral(m/f receiving), choking, unprotected sex), swearing, angst, fluff.

Summary: Nothing like a little Valentines Day smut for these two love birds!

Authors Note: Since this takes place during this universe, every thing that happened between Noah and Reader is still the same! Just a little pop in to see how they've been doing! Happy Valentines Day my lovelies! I hope you enjoy this little blurb!

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken @malice-ov-mercy @thebadchic @niicoleleigh @lma1986 @dsireland86 @bellaboo967 @cookiesupplier @whenthesummerdies @bngurngheart @laurpartyprogram @thisbicc @lyinginbetween @princessmarshmallowx @loeytuan98 @cncohshit @lacktoesandtoddlerants @notingridslurkaccount @calleyx13 @jessiskyee @mrscevans @spicywhenspeaking @myownthoughts12 @br0kenangel23 @flowery-mess @lizzieseveride @illmakeyousaywow @burning-outx @xhedonistolisx @sinnamongirl @jilliemiw86 @shayzillaaaa @dream-machine-love

“Hi, who can I make this out to?” I smiled up at the person in front of me.

The young blonde smiled wide. “Uh, Jennifer.”

I picked up on her nerves but decided not to dwell on it like I’d done with the other 50 people before her. I opened the book Jennifer lay in front of me and wrote the same message I’d been writing all day.

Jennifer,

Thank you so much for the support.

Y/N.

“Thank you so much for coming out”, I said while sliding the book back to Jennifer.

Jennifer shook her head while clutching the book close to her chest. “No, thank you, Y/N! I absolutely loved One Night. So when you were promoting Always Pretending, I knew I would have another book to add to my TBR list. Needless to say, it’s my favorite book ever.”

My cheeks flushed. “Oh wow. Thank you so much for that, Jennifer. Truly, your praise means a lot.”

With a wave, I continued the same thing for the next long while, signing book after book for my fans. This was the last day in a two-week-long book tour across the United States and to say I was exhausted was an understatement. Not to mention, I had a four-hour flight back home to Los Angeles as soon as I left this bookshop. Jackie, my assistant, knew how badly I wanted to get back home so she booked the earliest flight she could.

It has been like this for the last year ever since I published One Night and now Always Pretending; both books on the bestseller list. While I was thankful for that, I wasn’t thankful for being away from home for so long.

Away from Noah.

Our schedules didn’t seem to match up as of late. While I was away on my book signing tour, he was home resting because a week after I got back home, Bad Omens would be leaving for a round of festivals overseas. Noah wanted me to join him since I hadn’t been in a long time. We’d been dating for almost two years now and I had to miss out on the last two tours because of my own career.

I had every intention of joining Noah now but needed to talk to Jackie about it first. She worked tirelessly to keep my schedule busy and jam-packed to promote my books but in my eyes, they didn't need any more promotion. I’d been working almost nonstop with these book tours, interviews, and not to mention trying to work on my third book.

I needed a fucking break.

I didn’t want it to seem to people that I was complaining because I was thankful for where I ended up. If you had told the girl two years ago who sat on that tour bus wondering if her first book would be good enough to become a best-selling author, she’d laugh in your face.

Noticing that we were dwindling to the last few people, I powered through with a plastered smile even though my eyes were drowning in exhaustion. My phone lay on the table next to me, screen down but kept buzzing against the wood. Jackie went to reach for it but I shot her a look in between signing books.

“I thought you’d want me to respond for you,” she tried to smile.

I bit my tongue, not wanting to snap at the older woman because she was simply doing her job but I knew who was texting me and didn’t want her to see those messages.

“It’s fine, thank you,” I muttered.

Finally, after a two-hour signing, I was finished and shook out the cramps in my right hand while letting out a deep breath. It was almost 2 in the afternoon and my flight left in 3 hours which meant I had to rush across town to make it in time.

“So, I was thinking,” Jackie started as I began to gather my things. “The local news channel would love to have you on their morning report tomorrow. I think it would be great publicity.”

I raised a brow. “You seemed to forget that I have a flight in three hours, Jackie.”

“I know,” she nodded. “But we can move some things around and-.”

For the first time since she took over as my assistant, I said the word that I never wanted to because I knew how important the publicity side of my career was.

“No.”

Jackie blinked. “What?”

I sighed while running a hand through my hair. “Look Jackie, while I appreciate everything you’ve done for me these past few months, I need a break. I’ve been going nonstop since One Night was published. I miss my life back in Los Angeles. I miss my quiet little apartment. I miss my boyfriend.”

Noah’s smile flashed in my mind and my heart yearned to be back with him. About three months ago, he moved in with me but with how busy both of us had been it felt as if we didn’t have time to actually revel in living together.

Not to mention, being away from him for two weeks made me horny as hell. Facetime sex paled in comparison to seeing and feeling the real thing.

“But-.”

I held up my hand to silence Jackie. “You deserve a break as well, Jackie. Take some time off, do things you love. When I’m ready to talk about book three, I’ll give you a call, alright?”

Reluctantly, she nodded while tucking a piece of graying hair behind her ear.

Bidding her goodbye, I threw my bag over my shoulder and then dragged my suitcase behind me to exit the bookstore only to immediately sit in the backseat of the black town car that had been waiting to take me to the airport. Once we were gliding along the road, I finally peered at my phone for the first time in a few hours.

Noah: Angel, I’m so proud of everything you’ve done. Seeing how successful your book tour has been makes me smile. I can’t wait till you’re back home and we can celebrate. I love you so much.

Noah: So, are you going to sign a copy of Always Pretending for me? Since you know, I was your muse for it.

I rolled my eyes with a giggle before replying to Noah.

Me: Oh please, you know I’d sign a book for my biggest fan. Also, I love you too.

As I browsed through my phone, checking my social media and responding to emails, Noah texted back.

Noah: So, we have a problem. I can’t pick you up from the airport because I forgot I had my therapy appointment at six.

My heart sunk to the depths of my stomach. All day I’d been looking forward to seeing Noah’s face as I stepped through the doors of the airport. But I knew that he couldn’t miss therapy. It was more important than picking me up.

Me: It’s okay, love. I can order an uber. I should be back home by 8. Maybe we can have a late dinner together?

Noah: Already taken care of, angel.

With a yawn, I adjusted my glasses as I stepped through the gate doors of the airport, dragging my bags behind me. There was a delay in taking off at the last airport which meant I was now arriving in Los Angeles at 9 p.m rather than 7 p.m. I had to buy wifi on the plane so I could message Noah to let him know about the delay.

Thank the gods I changed out of my professional attire at the last airport and opted to wear my Bad Omens joggers and Noah’s yellow hoodie; his smell still lingering. With my phone in one hand, I was about to order an Uber when my feet skidded to a halt at the sight in front of me.

What a cheeky little…

Noah smirked as he held a bouquet of black daisies.

“Hi, angel,” he mused.

I reached for the flowers and brought them to my nose, inhaling their scent, and then peered up at Noah.

“I thought you couldn’t pick me up.”

Noah brushed away a loose strand of hair from my face. “I sort of lied. I had plans to pick you up then take you out to dinner for Valentine's day but when your flight got delayed, I had to switch things up.”

“So you’ve been waiting here for two hours?” I asked.

“Worth it.”

He shrugged before wrapping his fingers behind my neck to bring our lips together in a long overdue kiss. His tongue immediately molded against mine and I moaned into it, my hand sprawling over his chest. The material of his Hereditary sweater felt warm underneath my palm and I let myself fall into him when his hands grasped my hips.

“I missed you, Y/N,” Noah’s teeth grazed over my bottom lip.

“I missed you too, love.”

With his arm wrapped around my shoulder and other hand holding my bags, Noah led me out of the airport and towards his car parked in the parking lot. Once we were settled, he began the drive back home. I nestled into the passenger seat and let out a content sigh.

“Tired?” Noah questioned with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on my thigh.

“No, surprisingly. I thought I would be but I’m just happy to be back home.”

He brought my hand to his lips to kiss along my knuckles. “I’m glad you’re back too, angel.”

For the rest of the drive home, I told him how the book tour went while he told me what he did the last few weeks. Since it was down time for Bad Omens, Noah spent it either in the gym with Ash or in the studio with the guys.

As we walked down the long hallway to our apartment, another yawn slipped through my lips and I nearly stumbled. Noah chuckled as he wrapped an arm around me to pull me into his chest.

“You should get some sleep, angel.”

I frowned while burying myself into his sweater. "I'm not tired."

His lips brushed along my forehead as we stopped in front of our door and he unlocked it. The darkness of our home escaped into the hallway as I stepped through the threshold and when I clicked on the lights, a gasp fell from my lips.

Matching the daisies bouquet I had clutched in my arms, our entire apartment was littered. Music played softly as I noticed the steaming dinner plated on our kitchen island, candles lit and spread throughout.

Turning on my heels, I gaped at Noah who leaned against the door with a smug smile.

“What is this?” I asked, doing my best not to cry.

“Happy Valentine's Day, angel. I had Jolly set this up for me while we were on our way home. He had to warm up the dinner I cooked earlier but I promise it’s still good,” he said.

My eyes widened. “Oh, I forgot it’s Valentine's day! I was so busy with everything I didn’t get you anything.”

Noah pushed himself off the door and immediately cupped my face so I could look up at him. The hood of his sweater was still pulled over his eyes, chocolate tendrils falling into his face.

“You know I don’t need anything. Just you, angel. But I wanted to do something special for you because you deserve it.”

I left a firm but quick kiss on his lips, muttering against them. “Thank you, Noah.”

He smiled while motioning behind me. “Come on, let's eat.”

“Fuck, Noah,” I moaned when his tongue licked up the patch of skin his teeth grazed.

My nails dragged down his bare chest, leaving red marks along his tattoos, as he continued to slam his cock into me, the couch beneath us scraping along the wood floors.

“So tight. I missed you,” he groaned into the crook of my neck as his hips stilled.

I knew he was close but also knew that he didn’t want it to end yet. What started as a nice romantic dinner turned into a heavy make out session on the couch. Neither of us could wait any longer and needed to be connected once again.

His fingers brushed along the folds of my pussy and I shook with the feeling as he slowly dragged his cock all the way out, only leaving the tip inside.

“Noah,” I whined while raising my hips. “Please.”

His teeth dragged along my nipples. “Please what?”

I raked my nails through his hair and yanked back causing Noah to let out a loud hiss. “Fuck, angel.”

“Stop teasing me and fuck me, Noah. Please.”

My screams echoed throughout the apartment when he buried his cock deep witin me again, his pace becoming ruthless. But our position on the couch wasn’t the greatest, I needed to be able to feel him even deeper. We couldn’t make it to the bedroom when we first started and there was no way I was going to stop this now.

Noah could tell I needed something different because with one strong arm, he lifted me from the couch to carry me over to the kitchen table. I squealed in delight as I writhed in his embrace.

“What are you doing?” I asked as he made me lean back.

He brushed back the sweat slicked hair from his forehead and licked his lips. “I need a taste of you.”

With a tight grip on my thighs, he spread my legs wide apart before he knelt between them. The warmth of his tongue sent shockwaves to my entire system as he lapped up the remnants of my previous orgasm he gave me on the couch and I arched off the table when he began sucking on my clit.

“Shit, Noah. I’m going to-.”

With two fingers spearing me wide open before pumping in fast succession and his mouth sucking on my sensitive nub, I let the shock of my orgasm tear through me with such a force that it nearly took my breath away.

“Such a good girl,” Noah mused while laying a kiss on the inside of my thigh. “I missed the way you taste.”

I only had a few minutes to breath before he was yanking me off the table to now stand on my feet. He patted my ass.

“Lean your hands against the window,” he nodded towards the patio door.

“What-?” I shuffled on my feet.

Noah’s lips attacked mine in a ravenous kiss and when he pulled away, he brushed my arousal off of his lips with his thumb. His bracelet and necklace glinted in the light from the lamppost outside.

“Be a good girl, Y/N, and do what I say,” his voice was as dark as his eyes.

Not wanting to disappoint, I quickly made my way over to the patio door that led out to our balcony and rested my psalm against the glass.Thankfully we shut off all but one of the lights so no one would be able to peer up into our apartment and see what we were doing.

"Keep your hands on the window," he demanded and then yanked my hips back to him so I was bent over.

Nodding furiously, I spread my hands against the window of the patio door when his cocked slipped inside of me again, his name falling off my lips in a prayer.

“That’s right, pray to your king,” Noah rasped as he bit down on my shoulder.

One tattooed arm wrapped around my stomach while the other tightened around my throat to bring my chest against his back, this new angle making my vision blurry. It felt so good, the burn, and Noah knew how bad I needed it to hurt.

He squeezed until I felt the air being ripped away from me, his cock slamming into me with no sign of stopping. He never held back and I never wanted him too. I needed it to hurt, needed it to burn, that I wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow.

When I felt the darkness creeping to the corners of my eyelids due to how tight he was gripping my throat, I let out a choked moan.

“Safe word?” he muttered into my ear before kissing the skin behind there.

Although his voice was soft and concerning, the way he fucked me was completley different.

I did my best to shake my head with his tight grip around my throat. “Keep. Going. So. Close.”

Noah eased his grip a bit so I could take a deep breath before he tightened it again. My orgasm was so close, I just needed a little something to have it wash over me. As my hand moved to my clit, Noah smacked my ass, the sound echoing through our apartment. Instead, his thumb pressed circles against my clit and that was exactly what I needed to let my orgasm finally release from the tightness of my body. I came with such vigor on Noah’s cock he groaned into my hairline.

“Such a good girl,” he praised while letting go of the vice grip around my throat.

Gulping for hair, I nodded. “Yes.”

Nails dug into the skin of my hips as Noah’s pace became even more frantic, him chasing his own release, and I was so far gone in my post orgasmic haze that I nearly didn’t hear the two words he said.

“Wh-what?” I stuttered.

Noah’s hips stilled for a beat before he let out a deep, guttural groan when he spilled his warm release into me.

“Marry me.”

Before my body could fall into a heap to the ground, Noah lifted me to sit me on the edge of our kitchen island. His large hand cupped my cheek so I had no choice but to gaze upon him. His pupils were blown wide due to our actions and his chest rose and fell as he did his best to catch his breath. His warm cum dripped down my legs onto the cold marble beneath me but I didn’t dare think about the mess. I only thought about those two words.

“What did you say?” I asked, still breathless.

“Marry me,” Noah said again without an ounce of hesitation.

Everything around us seemed to fall away, the eerie quiet of the apartment now ringing loudly in my ears. My heart beat loudly in my chest that I could feel it in my throat when I realized how sincere Noah was. This wasn’t a joke, he meant those words.

As if he thought I was doubting him, he ripped open our junk drawer in the kitchen to pull out a small velvet box and my breath caught in my throat.

“Fuck, you’re serious?” I choked out.

Noah smiled wickedly as he opened the box, the light above the kitchen sink catching the diamond almost instantly. The gold band was thin but the oval shape of the diamond almost sat perfectly against it.

“With you, Y/N. I’ve never been more serious about anything,” he said.

My throat burned in the best way. Never in this lifetime did I ever expect to have such a romantic Valentine's Day. Guys in my past never gave a shit, especially Jacob, so to have Noah go all out was something I wasn't used too but knowing he loved me so much made my heart swell.

I began to nod wildly. “Fuck yes!”

With a laugh, Noah collided our lips together in a fever kiss before reluctantly pulling away to slide the ring onto my finger.

“I didn’t mean to have a cliche proposal on Valentine's day. I planned on asking you if you came overseas but I couldn’t risk not asking you before,” Noah explained.

I wrapped my legs around his naked form to bring him closer to me and I hung my arms around his neck. We were still naked and the cool air from the open window brushed along our heated skin.

“I’m coming with you.”

Noah’s eyes lit up. “You are?”

“Yeah, I need a break and now that we’re engaged, I think we need to celebrate,” I waved the hand with the ring in front of his face playfully.

He grasped it to leave a kiss upon the ring. “Say no more, angel.”

My squeals bounced off the walls of our home as Noah carried me into our bedroom to start our engagement celebrations.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian and reader #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens #bad omens reader

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kiibichio · 7 months

Text

PLAY DATE ✩ M. STURNIOLO

OVERVIEW ;; you and matt are friends w/ benefits, so he hits you up .. you walk to his house and have a “play date” !!

CONTAINS ;; matt x fem reader, sub&dom ! matt, fwb ! matt, pet names, oral (m ! receiving), use of y/n, unprotected sex, angst (?) near the end !! (that’s it i think??)

kiki speaks ;; okay so this was based on THIS tik tok because omg he’s soooo. but anyways… ENJOYY (also this is my first smut EVER so please excuse me if it’s kinda sucky) PART TWO OUT NOW!!

date published ;; 02.17.24

not proofread !!

——————————————————————————————

5:57 pm.

i lie in my bed, excruciatingly bored. watching some show that i have little interest in, when i get a text from one of my friends, matt.

“hey, are you free rn?” the text read.

me and matt had been friends ever since he moved to los angeles. i also got along with his brothers well, so we would always hang out and go places together. a few months after becoming friends with them, i broke up with my ex-boyfriend and got closer to matt.

one day, matt and i had a conversation and decided we wanted to try some things, so we hooked up. without feelings. which brings us here. friends with benefits. although i might just be breaking that ‘no feelings attached’ rule, but he doesn’t need to know.

“yea?? whats up?” i reply

“chris and nick are gone. come over?” he asks

“sure, just give me like 5 minutes” i sent back

finally. ive been waiting for his text all week. last time we spoke was like 4 days ago. i quickly put on some light makeup, a cute & comfy outfit, spray perfume and head out the door. the triplets only lived about 2 minutes away from me so, i could just walk there. which i did often and most definitely will do now.

once i arrive at the triplets’ home, i give the door a knock and it opens, with matt standing on the other side of it.

“hey matt-” i get cut off by him grabbing me by the waist and kissing my harshly in the doorframe.

“sorry. just couldn’t wait.” matt smirks, licking his lips while closing and locking the door.

“i can tell.” i spoke, a smirk crawling on my face too.

“c’mon. my room.” he demanded and grabbed my arm, dragging my to his room.

he brings me to his room and sits on the bed. i close the door behind us and walk over to straddle him.

“missed you, y/n. haven’t seen you in 4 days. ive been so busy-” he explains, holding my hips as i hover over him.

“shh.. matt we’re here now.” i speak before moving my mouth onto his, resulting in a rough, heated kiss, which turned into a make out. our tongues moving together in rhythm, exploring each others mouths.

i start grinding over his clothed cock, trying to gain some friction, letting out soft moans.

“hmm.. you like that, matt?”

“shit… yes- fuck” he breathes out

i continue my movements, going back and forth on him. i quickly slip my shirt and jacket off, matt following me and taking off his shirt as well. i unclasp my bra, matt took a nipple in his mouth almost as soon as i took it off.

“ah- fuck- someone’s impatient.” i groan out

“mhm..” he mutters

i feel his dick start to twitch under me, signing that he was close. i speed up my movements. he grabs my hips tightly and comes right on the spot.

“oh shit..” he moans

i move off of him and onto my knees, rubbing his cock through his pants.

“look at you, so fucked out already.. haven’t even gotten to suck you off yet.” i smile sinisterly

“don’t tease me, y/n.” he breathes

“oh don’t worry.. i won’t for long.”

i swiftly pull down his sweatpants and boxers and grab his cock. i kitty lick the tip then slowly lap a long stripe from his base to the tip before taking all of him between my lips.

“oh- god! mgh fuck- y/n.. don’t stop. shit!” matt moans out.

i bob my head up and down on his cock, letting out soft, quiet, noises, sending vibrations down it and making him shudder. my tongue hit every vein on him, very slowly. i continue my motions, making direct eye contact with him the whole time until i feel his dick start to twitch in my mouth.

“fuck, im close..” matt mutters.

“cum in my mouth, matt. i wanna take it all.”

with that, he shoots out white, thick ropes of cum down my throat.

“s’good for me, matt.” i tell him, sweetly, while standing up and taking my pants and underwear off.

“mhm…” is all he manages to get out while still sitting on the edge of the bed.

“now get on your back so i can ride you.” i say sternly, walking over to him

“yes ma’am” he chuckles under his breath

he moves to the middle of the bed, lying on his back. i hover over him, giving him wet, sloppy kisses all over his face and throat area. most definitely leaving marks.

i then lined him up with me and sunk down on him. when he bottomed out, we both let out a string of moans.

“shit matt..”

“oh you’re so good. fuckkkk”

as i take all of him in me, i wrap my hands around him and rest my head in the crook of his neck, waiting to adjust to his size. no matter how many times we do this, ill never get used to it.

once i was ready, i started moving up and down on top of him, trying to pace myself.

“mghh…. matt.”

“holy shit.. mm you’re so good. so perfect for me,” he whimpered, “taking me so good oh my god.” he continued to moan.

those words made me instantly clench around his cock as i bounced on it, speeding up my pace. the room filled with grunts, moans, curses and the sounds of our skin slapping.

my legs were starting to give out and my bounces got sloppier, matt noticed this and flipped us over. now we were in missionary, with him pounding into me relentlessly.

“oh fuck fuck fuck fuck matt” i managed to moan out

“yea.. mhm got tired after a couple of ups and downs huh?” he grunts

“ohhh matt shittt”

“that’s right, y/n. say my name. uh huh”

i came about as soon as he said that, but he kept going, chasing his high.

soon, his thrusts got slower, indicating that he was close.

“cum inside me, matt. i wanna take it.”

“oh fuck y/n. fuck” he groans, while his cum fills me up and falls on side of me.

we both lay there for a while, out of breath before matt speaks up.

“you can go now.. if you want.” he says

hearing that kind of broke my heart. i knew we weren’t supposed to have real feelings for each other but geez.. am i just some toy to him?

“are you serious? you just told me you ‘missed me so much’, but you’re letting me leave just like that? am i just some sort of play date to you?” i ask, sitting up. anger, sadness and confusion written all over my face

maybe i shouldn’t have said that.

——————————————————————————————

kiki speaks (again) ;; urmmm I DONT KNOW HOW TO FEEL ABOUT THISSS UGH 😭 i hope i did good and you guys enjoyed but this is my FIRST EVER SMUT AND FIC SO GO EASY ON ME. i would also really love tips from other writers bc idkkk. but TOODLES !! (p.s. DO U GUYS WANT A PT. 2 OF THIS BC IK I KINDA ENDED W A CLIFFHANGER-ISH TYPE THINGY??)

tag list ;; .. empty for rn 🍵

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo smut #youtube #youtuber

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goblinontour · 4 days

Text

Knives Out

he’s in the studio…

warnings: dad!alex, angst, smut, piv, arguing

word count: 6.6k

The temporary move to LA was rough. Really rough, if either of you were being honest. It wasn’t like you hadn’t anticipated the so-called adjustment period, but you hadn’t quite expected how much it would affect your little family. Poppy had always been easy going for the most part. Manageable. Or so you both thought. But this move had thrown her, and by extension, the two of you, into uncharted waters.

Alex couldn’t begin to guess what was going through her mind. He’d never experienced a move like this as a kid. He’d grown up in the same house for years, familiar streets and faces always within reach. Even if he had moved, he probably wouldn’t have remembered the details at that age anyway. But here she was, uprooted from everything she knew in London and dropped into the sprawling, sun-drenched landscape of Los Angeles. There was a certain helplessness he felt in watching her navigate this huge change.

The silver lining was that, little by little, she seemed to be finding her footing. There were signs of her adjusting, however small. For one, she now had her own separate playroom, a “luxury” they didn’t have back in London.

Not that it made much of a difference.

The playroom, for all its shiny newness, remained largely untouched. Poppy, ever the little shadow, still followed her father into the place he’d affectionately dubbed the “Lunar Surface”. The Lunar Surface was still their shared territory. She hadn’t left his side since the move. No matter how many toys or distractions were placed in front of her, she’d always end up trailing after Alex, as if there was something in there she needed just as much as he did.

It made sense, in a way. Maybe she thought she had important business there, too. Maybe she felt it was theirs, a place not just for him to create, but for them to share.

You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy every time you saw her curling up in a corner of the room while he worked. She never followed you like that. Never clung to you the way she did him. You were the one who stayed behind when he went on tour, the one who kept everything stable and running at home when he disappeared for months or years at a time. Yet, it was him she trailed after, her little feet pattering through the hallways until she found him wherever he was.

You’d never say it out loud, of course. It wasn’t worth admitting that small, irrational jealousy. But the truth was, it stung a bit. You loved watching them together, his little mirror, absorbing every note and gesture. It was beautiful, really. Still, sometimes you couldn’t help but wonder if she followed him because she was afraid he might leave again. That’s what he did, after all. He left. For the studio, for tour, for everything that kept him him.

It was late afternoon, and the house was bathed in a warm, golden light that streamed in through the large windows. From the kitchen, you could see them: Alex, sitting cross-legged on the floor, his guitar resting in his lap, and Poppy, perched next to him, her tiny hands clumsily trying to mimic the way his fingers moved across the strings. He was teaching her some simple chord progression, his voice low and patient, while she watched him with unwavering focus.

You leaned against the counter, drying your hands on a towel, watching them from a distance. There was something so intimate about the scene that you didn’t dare disturb it. Not that you could, anyway. She seemed to have forgotten about you entirely, lost in the little world she and Alex had created, a world you weren’t a part of in that moment.

You didn’t begrudge her for it. Not really. It was natural, the way she gravitated toward him, the way her eyes lit up every time he showed her something new. But as you stood there, arms crossed over your chest, a soft ache settled in your stomach.

Alex didn’t think to include you. It wasn’t intentional, you knew that. He was just so absorbed in what he was doing, in that quiet bond he shared with her. But it hurt all the same, watching from the sidelines, feeling like an outsider in your own home. There was something about the way they were together that made you feel…invisible.

You sighed, shaking your head at yourself. You were being dramatic, you knew that. But the weight of it all, this move, the boxes that still littered every corner of the house, the never-ending cycle of unpacking and cleaning, taking care of her needs and making sure everything ran smoothly, it was all starting to pile up. And then there was him. Alex, waking up at noon with the excuse that he’d stayed up late working. Alex, disappearing into the studio for hours on end, as if the world outside didn’t exist. Alex, coming home and going straight back to his music, continuing whatever song or riff he’d been working on in that damn studio.

And then there was her, always at his side, laughing and playing with him as if everything were perfect, as if the house wasn’t still a mess and you weren’t silently unravelling.

It wasn’t that you didn’t understand. You knew how he worked. You’d known from the beginning that this was how it would be with him.

He had the luxury of checking out, of diving into his art whenever he felt like it, and then emerging to be the fun dad who taught his daughter guitar. You, on the other hand, had no such escape. Your days had become a blur of mundane tasks.

From the corner of your eye, you saw her little face scrunch up in concentration as she tried to press down the strings of the guitar, the way Alex had shown her. Her fingers weren’t strong enough yet, but she didn’t give up, and Alex encouraged her softly, his voice a murmur you could barely hear from the kitchen. She grinned when she got it right, and Alex’s face lit up with pride.

You should have been happy, seeing them like that. And part of you was. But another part, the part that was tired and lonely and feeling more than a little neglected, felt like crying. It wasn’t just the move or the endless responsibilities. It was him. He was here, but not really. He was present, but not with you. It was as if the two of you existed on parallel tracks.

And the two of you never quite met in the middle.

You knew it wasn’t fair to think that way. He was doing his best, in his own way. But lately, it felt like his best wasn’t quite enough for you. Not when you were drowning in everything that needed to be done, while he got to disappear and come out only for the fun parts.

You glanced over again, catching the moment when Poppy leaned into him, her head resting against his arm, completely content. He kissed the top of her head absentmindedly, fingers still moving across the strings of the guitar, and she sighed happily, lost in the moment with him.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, setting the dishrag down and turning back to the sink. It was silly, really, to feel so left out. You were part of this family too. But watching them from a distance like this, it was hard not to feel like you were slipping through the cracks, becoming a little less visible with each passing day.

You took a deep breath, trying to push away the rising frustration. There were still boxes to unpack, laundry to fold, and dinner to think about. Maybe later, when the house was quiet and Poppy was asleep, you’d talk to him about it. Or maybe you’d just let it go, like you always did.

Either way, you couldn’t help but wonder when, if ever, you’d stop feeling so alone in all of this.

The light was low by the time they finished, the last of the sunset casting long shadows across the living room floor. Poppy was yawning, rubbing her eyes with the back of her tiny hand, though she was still nestled against Alex’s side, not wanting to let go of him just yet. He seemed to have endless reserves of patience when it came to her.

With you, it was different.

He stood up, guitar still in hand, and scooped her up without missing a beat, her head resting on his shoulder, her legs dangling against his side. It was effortless, the way he held her, his lean frame barely shifting under her weight. His T-shirt was wrinkled like he’d been lounging in it all day, which he probably had been. His jeans were slung low on his hips, and the way his hair fell into his eyes, messy and unbothered, made him look like he had just rolled out of bed.

He might as well.

Without a word to you, he carried her down the hall to her room, not even glancing back. His voice was soft, murmuring something to her that you couldn’t quite hear from where you stood. His steps were slow, measured, like he was savouring this last moment of the day with her. The light from the hallway caught the sharp angles of his face, the scruff along his jawline that he hadn’t bothered shaving, his long fingers gently brushing her back as he carried her to her room. You felt the familiar knot tighten in your stomach as you stood there, the sound of his low murmurs barely audible as he settled her in. The house was quiet, but your thoughts weren’t.

You leaned against the counter, the edge pressing into your lower back, and stared after them. He made it look so easy. Effortless. The way he floated in and out of her life. Of your life. Like some distant planet in a lazy orbit. There when he needed to be, and gone when it suited him.

It wasn’t long before he reappeared, the soft creak of the bedroom door closing behind him. He walked back down the hall, stretching his arms above his head as if to shake off the last bit of exhaustion from the day. His shirt rode up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin above his jeans. The way the fabrics clung to him was just a reminder that it was still warm in this LA heat, and his movements were slow, like someone who had nowhere else to be and nothing else to do. He rubbed at the back of his neck, yawning, and didn’t even glance in your direction at first.

He walked into the kitchen, rubbing his jaw with one hand, the hint of stubble catching the light. “Is there anything for dinner?” he asked, his voice almost too casual, as if he didn’t notice the way you were standing there, still, waiting for something, anything, that resembled effort.

You blinked at him, a little taken aback. He didn’t seem to realise how thoughtless the question was, how it felt like he hadn’t noticed a single thing you’d been doing all day. It wasn’t about the food. It was about everything.

You stared at him, your grip tightening on the counter’s edge. There was a moment, just a flash, where you envisioned throwing something across the room at him. Maybe a plate. Maybe the whole table. Instead, you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself, but it didn’t stop the surge of irritation from rushing through you.

“Dinner?” you repeated softly, trying not to let your frustration bleed into your voice.

He leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest, his eyebrows raised slightly as if he didn’t understand why you weren’t already moving to grab something. “Yeah. I mean, we haven’t eaten, right?”

“Dinner?” you repeated, incredulous, your voice sharper than you intended. You let the word hang in the air for a beat, watching as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, his hands casually sliding into the pockets of his jeans. “Dinner, Alex?”

He blinked, clearly not picking up on the tone yet. He tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly.

“Yeah, what?” His voice was soft, a little slow, a little too casual. It grated on you, that easy, laid-back way he spoke, like the question wasn’t loaded with everything you’d been bottling up for weeks. “What’s up?”

You swallowed, your eyes dropping to the floor for a second before looking back up at him. “I haven’t had a chance to make anything.” you said quietly, feeling the lump in your throat grow. “I’ve been…busy. With everything.”

He sighed, but it was subtle, more of an exhale through his nose. “Yeah, me too.” he muttered, glancing down at his hands like they’d been doing the hardest work in the world all day.

You shook your head, letting out a humourless laugh. Me too. You wanted to slap him. Instead, you pushed away from the counter, turning to face him fully, arms crossing over your chest.

“Alex, I’ve been dealing with everything all day. You wake up whenever it suits you, waltz into the studio, and then come home like you’ve done a hard day’s work. You barely notice me, and now you’re asking if dinner’s ready?”

He blinked again, the crease between his brows deepening. “Babe, I was in the studio-”

“I know you were in the studio.” you snapped, cutting him off. “You’re always in the studio. Or with her. But never with me. I know the music’s important to you, but…”

He blinked, finally looking at you properly, but there was a slight defensiveness in his eyes. “What, you think I’m just…what? Messing around all day?” He straightened a little, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, that casual tone turning sharper. “I’m working, you know? It’s not like I’m ignoring you on purpose.”

“I didn’t say you were.” you replied quickly, but there was a tremor in your voice that you hated, like you were apologising for feeling something. “I just…I feel like I’m doing everything else. And it’s exhausting, Alex.”

His mouth twitched slightly, as if he was going to say something but decided against it. Instead, he ran his hand through his hair again, tousling it even more. “Look, I didn’t realise it was that bad.” he muttered, his voice quieter now, but still missing the point. “I thought you had it handled.”

“I do have it handled.” you shot back, a little sharper than you meant to. “But I’m tired of having it handled alone.”

He shifted uncomfortably, glancing away, clearly unsure of how to navigate this. He wasn’t great with emotions, never had been. He exhaled through his nose, his jaw tightening. You could see the tension in his shoulders now, the way his fingers flexed at his sides. He was trying to stay calm, trying to understand, but it was clear he hadn’t expected this.

His eyes darted back to you, and his expression softened, though there was still a hint of frustration in his tone. “I’m not trying to make you feel like you’re on your own, alright? It’s just…I don’t know. I didn’t think about it.”

“That’s the problem.” you whispered, the tightness in your throat growing, but you kept your voice steady. “You don’t think about it. You just assume I’ll take care of everything.”

His shoulders dropped a little, and for a second, he looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. His arms unfolded, and he took a tentative step toward you, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry.” he mumbled, his words coming out awkwardly, like he wasn’t used to apologising. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

You looked at him, taking in the way his jaw clenched and the way his eyes darted away every few seconds like he was uncomfortable being in this moment with you, but not entirely detached either. He wanted to reach for you but didn’t know how.

“I know you didn’t mean to.” you said softly, your voice wavering slightly but still steady. “But it doesn’t change how it feels.”

He looked at you then, really looked, and for a second, something in his face shifted. His eyes softened, that defensiveness fading. “I’m…I’m sorry.” he repeated, his voice lower now, almost a whisper, like he wasn’t sure if it was safe to speak louder. “I didn’t know you felt like this.”

You laughed again, that same bitter edge clinging to it. “Of course you didn’t. Because you haven’t been here to notice. You’re here, Alex, but you’re not really here. You come home, you play with her, and then it’s like I don’t exist.”

He shifted his weight again, “That’s not fair.” he murmured. “You know I’m trying to balance everything. I’m doing my best.”

You stared at him, your arms still crossed tightly, trying to hold yourself together. “Well, your best isn’t enough.” you said quietly, the words hanging heavy between you.

His expression faltered, the sharp lines of his face softening as if your words had cut deeper than either of you expected. He stood there for a moment, silent, and you could see the wheels turning in his mind, trying to find something to say that would make it better, trying to figure out how to fix what was unravelling right in front of him.

But he didn’t have the words. Not this time.

He looked down, his hand rubbing the back of his neck again, a nervous gesture you recognized all too well. His hair fell over his eyes, and he didn’t bother pushing it back this time. “I…I’ll do better.” he said, the words slow, hesitant. He wasn’t sure they’d be enough. “I promise, I’ll try to be more…present. With you.”

You watched him, unsure whether to believe it, unsure if it would change anything at all. But the exhaustion in his eyes, the way his posture slouched now, made you pause. He wasn’t trying to ignore you, not deliberately. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Dinner’s in the fridge.” you said after a long moment, your voice quieter now, the fight draining out of you. “Heat it up yourself.”

He nodded, almost as if he knew it was the best he was going to get right now. He didn’t argue, didn’t push. He just walked to the fridge, his movements slower now, more careful, as if he was trying not to disturb the fragile air between you.

As he pulled out the leftovers, you turned and walked out of the kitchen, the weight of the day still pressing down on you, heavier than ever.

You lay on the bed, staring at the dark ceiling, trying to will your mind into quiet, but it didn’t come. You squeezed your eyes shut, pulling the covers up closer to your chin as if it could somehow shield you from the heaviness pressing on your chest.

The house was silent now. Poppy was asleep, and Alex was in the kitchen, reheating his dinner. You heard the faint hum of the microwave, the soft clinking of dishes. It was almost too normal, too routine, for how you felt.

You wanted to let it go, to brush it off like you had so many times before, but tonight it stuck with you, sharp and jagged. The loneliness gnawed at you. The kind of loneliness that only comes when the person you need the most is right there, but somehow feels miles away.

You turned onto your side, facing away from the door, pulling your knees closer to your chest. Maybe it was easier to sleep like this, with your back to the world. Maybe if you stayed still long enough, you’d drift off, and the ache would dull by morning.

Then you heard it. The soft creak of the door opening, the faintest sliver of light spilling into the room from the hallway. You didn’t move, keeping your breathing steady, though your heart started beating a little faster. His footsteps were soft, hesitant, the familiar sound of his feet lightly scuffing against the hardwood floor. He was trying not to wake you, or maybe he was just testing the air between you, unsure of how fragile it really was.

The bed dipped slightly as he sat on the edge, and for a moment, you thought he might stay there, distant and unsure. But then the mattress shifted again, and you felt him slip beneath the covers. The warmth of his body radiated toward you as he settled beside you, his movements slow, careful, as if he wasn’t quite sure how close he was allowed to get.

Then, after a beat of silence, you felt it, his chest pressing gently against your back. The weight of his arm tentatively draped over your waist, and he stilled, like he was waiting to see if you’d pull away.

You didn’t.

His breath was warm against the nape of your neck, steady, but you could tell he was awake, his body tense with unspoken words. You could feel the faint tremor in his chest, the rise and fall of his breathing, like he was working up to say something but wasn’t sure if now was the time.

Then, after a long pause, he whispered, his voice low, rough around the edges, as if he’d been holding the words in for too long. “I hope you don’t doubt that I love you.”

He didn’t say anything else. Just that. It was simple, but it felt like more, like it was the one thing he needed to say right now. The one thing he could say.

You lay there, still, your heart beating a little too fast. You didn’t turn to face him. Not yet. But the warmth of his body against yours, the quiet vulnerability in his voice, it chipped away at the wall you’d built up during the day.

“I don’t.” you whispered back, your voice barely audible, but in the quiet of the room, it was enough.

For a moment, neither of you moved, both of you just lying there in the dark, the silence now filled with something softer, less strained. You could feel him relax slightly, the tension easing from his body, his arm wrapping a little more securely around you.

You reached for his hand, gently curling your fingers around his, and brought it to your lips. You pressed a soft kiss to the back of his hand, feeling the roughness of his skin against your mouth. It was a small gesture, one that spoke the words you weren’t ready to say yet. I still love you, I still need you.

Alex let out a breath, but it wasn’t the kind of exhale you’d heard from him before. It was shaky, broken, like something deep inside him had cracked. You’d never heard him sound like that. His arm tightened slightly around your waist, but when you turned to face him, his eyes were still closed, his brow faintly furrowed as if he was holding something in, something he didn’t want to let you see.

You looked at him in the dim light, the faint outline of his face visible in the shadows. You knew he wasn’t sleeping. He was afraid. Afraid that if he opened his eyes and looked at you, everything he was trying to hold together would fall apart. He didn’t want to break, not in front of you, not now. Not when he thought it would only make things harder.

But you could feel it, the way his body seemed to tense and release with every breath he took, like he was fighting to keep his walls up. And you couldn’t let him carry that alone, not tonight.

Your hand moved up to his face, fingers lightly tracing the familiar lines of his jaw, the slight scruff on his cheeks. He didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away, but he didn’t open his eyes either. His breath hitched just slightly as your hand travelled lower, down the curve of his neck, over his chest. You could feel the rise and fall of his breathing beneath your palm, the subtle quickening of his heartbeat.

You lifted the hem of his shirt, pushing it up so you could feel the warmth of his skin against your fingertips. There was something grounding about it, something real, the contact pulling you both back from the edge of whatever distance had grown between you. He gasped, just barely, as your hand slipped beneath the fabric, your fingers brushing lightly against his stomach.

His lips parted, his breathing becoming uneven, but he still didn’t say anything. His eyes remained shut, his jaw tight, as though he was trying to hold onto the last bit of control he had left. You felt his muscles tense under your touch, every inhale deep, every exhale strained.

You pressed closer to him, your fingers trailing lower, down the soft skin just above his waistband. His breath caught in his throat when your hand slipped under the band of his sweatpants, your fingertips brushing against him.

“Ugh…” His voice was a low rasp, like he was about to say more but couldn’t find the words. His eyes stayed shut, his head tilting back slightly as if surrendering to the moment, but still resisting. He didn’t want to make this about him. Not when the weight of your unspoken pain still hung in the air between you.

But you didn’t stop. You didn’t pull away. You kept your touch gentle, tender, letting him know without words that it was okay. That tonight wasn’t about blame or anger or hurt.

You trailed your hand back up, over his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips, steadying, grounding. You moved closer, resting your forehead against his, your breath mingling with his as you whispered, “I’m still here.”

And finally, after what felt like an eternity, he opened his eyes. They were darker in the low light, filled with a mixture of emotion you couldn’t quite name, relief, love, all tangled together. He didn’t speak, but the way he looked at you, like he was searching for something he’d thought he’d lost, said enough.

His arms wrapped around you a little tighter, pulling you against him like he needed the contact just as much as you did. For the first time in what felt like forever, it wasn’t about what was wrong. It was about what was still there.

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his, softly at first, testing the space between you. His breath hitched, and for a moment, you both stayed there, suspended in that delicate quiet. Then you kissed him, properly this time, pressing your mouth to his in a way that felt urgent, necessary. He responded slowly, his lips moving against yours, hesitant, unsure where this was headed. But you didn’t hold back, not now.

Your hands trailed back down his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin under your fingertips, his muscles tensing slightly at your touch. His breath quickened as your leg slipped between his thighs, pressing against him. He let out a soft sound, something caught between a sigh and a groan, his body responding instinctively even as his mind seemed to hesitate.

But then, he pulled back, breaking the kiss, his hand gently pushing against your shoulder. “No.” he breathed, his voice low and rough. “Wait…no.”

You blinked, confusion washing over you as you stayed there, hovering above him. “What?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Don’t you…don’t you want me?”

He closed his eyes, his brow furrowing as if the question had hurt him somehow. “I do.” he said, his voice soft, strained. “It’s not…it’s not about that, I just-”

“Shut up.” you interrupted, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “Please, just…shut up.” You kissed him again, harder this time, desperate for the connection, for him to stop thinking and just be with you. Your hand slipped behind his neck, pulling him closer, and for a second, he hesitated, but he didn’t stop you.

You pushed him back onto the mattress, your hands gripping his shoulders as you straddled his lap, pressing your body against his. His eyes flickered open, dark and stormy with the conflict brewing inside him. His hands hovered at your waist. He wanted to hold on but couldn’t let himself give in fully.

“You…” His voice was a low rasp, but he didn’t say anything more. He didn’t pull you off, didn’t push you away. His eyes searched yours, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths as you sat above him, your thighs pressed tight around his hips.

You leaned down, kissing him again, harder this time, and he groaned into your mouth, his hands finally gripping your waist, pulling you closer. His fingers pressed into your skin, his touch firm, and you could feel the tension in his body as he let go, just a little, surrendering to you.

His hair was messy, falling into his eyes, his lips swollen from your kisses. There was something raw about him in this moment, his usual confidence stripped away, leaving him vulnerable beneath you. His skin was warm, almost burning under your touch, and you could feel the tautness in his muscles, the quiet restraint he was still clinging to.

But you weren’t stopping. You trailed your hands down his chest again, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palm. His eyes fluttered closed as you rocked your hips against him, grinding slowly. His breath came out in shallow gasps, his fingers digging into your waist, but he didn’t say no again.

“Why are you holding back?” you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. “What are you afraid of?”

“I’m not…” he started, but his voice faltered, and he didn’t finish the sentence. His eyes opened, meeting yours, and there was something there. Guilt, maybe. Or fear. He swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he tried to gather his thoughts, but nothing came out.

You kissed him again, cutting off whatever excuse he was about to make. “Don’t think.” you murmured against his lips. “Just…be here. With me.”

He exhaled shakily, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you down to him. His grip tightened, his hesitation fading the longer you stayed pressed together. He kissed you back this time, properly, his lips moving with yours in a way that felt desperate, needy.

“Fuck…” he groaned softly, his voice rough, thick with something he wasn’t quite ready to admit. His hips shifted beneath you, pushing up into you as you moved against him. His hands slid down to your thighs, gripping them tightly.

“Don’t stop.” you whispered, your breath hot against his neck. His skin was damp with sweat, his pulse racing beneath your lips as you kissed down the side of his throat, feeling the way his body trembled beneath yours.

“I’m trying.” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, his head tilting back into the pillow, eyes squeezing shut as if to keep himself grounded. “I’m trying not to lose it…”

“Maybe I want you to.” you said, your voice low, your hands slipping back under his shirt, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your fingertips.

He groaned again, this time louder, his grip on your thighs tightening as he gave in, finally letting go of whatever was holding him back. His lips found yours again, and this time, he kissed you harder, deeper, his body arching up into yours, pulling you down onto him with a force that sent a shiver down your spine.

It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t gentle. It was exactly what you both needed.

The room felt thick with silence as the space between you vanished. His hands slid down, trembling as they caught the waistband of his sweatpants, pushing them down just far enough, exposing himself to you. You pulled off your shorts with a shaky exhale, your body moving on instinct more than anything else. There wasn’t any time for hesitation, no slow unravelling, no careful lead-up. You were both too far gone, too desperate to feel something, anything that would bridge the distance between you.

He was inside you before either of you were fully ready for it, his body meeting yours in a quick, almost frantic rhythm. It wasn’t planned, wasn’t measured, and the sudden rush of sensation felt overwhelming. Your hands gripped his shoulders, fingers digging into his shirt as you moved together, but it wasn’t about pleasure, not in the way it usually was. It was messy, uncoordinated, a little too fast.

His breathing came in quick, ragged gasps, and you could feel his heart racing against your chest as he held you tight, like letting go would mean losing everything. His hips moved roughly beneath you, and you tried to match him, your bodies working in this frantic, unsynchronized rhythm. It wasn’t nearly the best you’d ever had. Not even close. It didn’t matter.

You both were searching for something in each other, something you couldn’t name, something you didn’t even know if you’d find. It was more about release than connection, about letting go of everything that had built up between you, the frustration, the resentment, the silence.

The room was filled with the sound of your uneven breathing, the soft creak of the bed, his hands clinging to you like you might slip away. His hair fell into his eyes again, damp with sweat, his lips parted as he gasped for breath, his brow furrowed with effort. You could feel his body shaking slightly, the tension in his muscles, the way he tried so hard to keep up, to stay with you.

But it wasn’t perfect. It was quick, almost too quick. You felt him stiffen beneath you, his grip tightening as he gasped out your name, his voice rough and broken. You followed moments after, not because it was the height of pleasure, but because the emotion of the moment pushed you over the edge. It was more like giving in than being consumed.

When it was over, the silence between you returned, but it felt different now. Less strained, more exhausted. You stayed there, your bodies still tangled, your forehead resting against his chest as you caught your breath. Neither of you moved for a long time, neither of you said anything. The moment wasn’t about words.

He let out a long, shaky sigh, one that seemed to start deep in his chest. But as the air left him, it got stuck in his throat, and that was when he broke. You could feel it. The sudden shift, the way his body tensed beneath you before he closed his eyes, trying to hold it together. He gently pulled you off him, moving you to the side, his movements almost too careful, like he didn’t want to add to whatever mess was already between you.

He quickly tucked himself back in, pulling his sweatpants up. He covered his face with his hands, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of everything had finally come crashing down on him.

“Sorry.” he muttered, his voice muffled by his hands. But this time, it was different. He wasn’t saying it because he thought he was supposed to, or because he wanted to end the argument. This time, he really meant it. You could hear it in the way the word caught in his throat, like it was hard for him to even say.

You sat up slowly, still catching your breath, watching him as he sat on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees, his hands covering his face.

“I’m sorry.” he said again, quieter now. He dropped his hands from his face, staring down at the floor like he couldn’t bear to look at you. “I don’t…I don’t know what I’m doing.”

You swallowed hard, feeling your own emotions tugging at you, but you stayed quiet, waiting for him to continue.

“I tried.” he said, his voice rough and halting. “I tried to be here. For you, for her. I really did. But I…I don’t know how to do it right. I don’t know how to be enough.”

His words hung in the air, and you could see how much they cost him. He wasn’t the type to talk like this, to admit when he was struggling, but there it was, laid out between you.

“You’re trying.” you said softly, unsure if it was the right thing to say, but needing him to know that you saw him. That you understood.

He shook his head, letting out a short, bitter laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “Trying isn’t enough, though, is it? I’m here, but I’m not really here. Not the way I should be. And I know that. I know it, and I hate it, but I don’t know how to fix it. I don’t know how to…be better.”

You shifted closer to him. “You don’t have to be perfect.” you whispered. “No one’s asking you to be perfect.”

“But I’m not even good enough.” he shot back, his voice cracking slightly. Frustration and confusion etched into every line of his face. “I’m not there when you need me. Not really. I get wrapped up in everything else, in the music, in…whatever, and I can see it. I can see how it’s pushing you away, but I don’t know how to stop.”

You felt a lump forming in your throat, but you forced yourself to push through it. “I don’t need you to stop everything. I just need you to…be with me when you’re here. Be present.”

He exhaled sharply, rubbing his hands over his face again. “I thought I was. But I look at you and Poppy and…God, I feel like I’m just standing on the outside, watching, and no matter what I do, it’s not enough. I’m not enough.”

His voice cracked on the last word, and he looked away, his jaw tight, like he was ashamed of what he had just admitted.

Your heart twisted painfully at the sight of him like this. You reached out, gently placing your hand on his back, feeling the way his body stiffened for a moment before he let out a shaky breath, as if he was finally letting himself feel it.

“You are enough.” you whispered, and you meant it, even though everything felt tangled and complicated. “You are. You just…you get lost sometimes. But you’re still enough.”

He closed his eyes, his hands clenching into fists on his thighs. “It doesn’t feel like it. You’ve said it.” he muttered. “I feel like I’m failing you. Both of you.”

He let out another shaky breath, dropping his head forward, and for a moment, you thought he might cry, but he didn’t. Instead, he just sat there, his shoulders slumped, his body heavy with everything he had been holding inside.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered again, and this time, it felt like the apology was more for himself than for you.

You slid closer, wrapping your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his back. His body was warm, his breath still uneven, but he didn’t pull away. He sat there, letting you hold him, letting the quiet between you settle into something softer, something that felt like the start of understanding.

a/n: i don’t know what this is.

tags: @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @avxoxo1 @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @aacheinthejaw @zayndrider @humbuginmybones @tedioepica

#dad!alex #alex turner #alex turner x reader #alex turner x you #alex turner smut #alex turner angst #alex turner fic #alex turner fanfic #smut #goblinontour

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aphrogeneias · 1 year

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it's been seven hours and fifteen days —

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (soulmate!au)

summary: five years ago you'd left your hometown in a hurry, trying to escape a heartbreak you thought was inevitable. now, you find out what's truly inevitable are lengths that fate will go to meet you.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: soulmate!au, angst, unrequited love (or is it?), eddie and reader are childhood friends but they're now in their 20s.

series masterlist

I. PROLOGUE (1991)

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA, DECEMBER 1991

"He's here."

Your trembling hands grasp the telephone receiver a little too hard. Staring at the closed door of the back office and hoping that the "staff only" sign is respected, you wait for your friend at the other end of the line to answer after you completely ignored her cheery "Hello!" just seconds earlier.

If you strain your ears a little bit, you can hear the telltale sounds of instruments being dragged around the small stage at the other side of the bar, the voices of the men — both band and crew alike — checking the sound for later that night, distorted feedback echoing from the amps. His voice was the loudest, as it’s always been.

It all feels like a fever dream.

"Who is there?"

"Who have I been running from for the past five years?" You sighed tiredly, as if you'd just ran for miles. You hoped that from your desperate tone that Robin would have picked up on exactly who you were talking about.

"Oh… He's there?" Realization colors her voice. You heard steps on her end, the telephone cord being stretched, and waited with baited breath for her to return. For a moment, you can almost picture her clumsily moving around her small kitchen, trying not to break something in her haste. "He's there?"

The shock you hear in her voice can't be compared to the one you felt when you saw Eddie Munson — freak extraordinaire, professional small town delinquent, guitar wizard and your long lost best friend — walk into the bar you work at, equipment in hand, ready to settle in the stage for a busy Friday night at one of the more inconspicuous bars in Sunset Boulevard.

In all your naivety, you thought you'd never have to see him again. Once you left Hawkins, fresh out of High School and with a determination you only have when you're born in a town that is, in turn, equally determined to spit you out, you thought that was it. Destiny and fate and red strings didn't rule your life, you did.

Destiny was now laughing at your face, pointing at you with an accusing finger like a mother that says "I told you so" to a misbehaving child that has to face the consequences after tempting them for too long.

It looked like he didn't change a thing since you last saw him, from the shaggy brown hair down to the tattered black bandana in his pocket, at least from the quick look you took at him before bolting, which only hurt even more.

"When were you going to tell me he moved here? Didn't you know anything? Didn't Steve know? Dustin must have told him something, it's impossible…"

"Bold of you to assume I listen to every single thing that dingus tells me when he calls me, babe." Robin interrupts your increasingly rapid speech, filled with indignant rage. Her words seem harsh towards your mutual friend, but you know it's said with affection. "And also, I don't know, doesn't fate work in mysterious ways or whatever they used to tell us when we were kids?"

Your communication with your childhood friends was done primarily by phone, ever since you left for Los Angeles and Robin for Indianapolis with her girlfriend-slash-roommate (as far as both of their parents are concerned), Vickie. Steve had stayed behind, begrudgingly managing his dad's business, but you knew it was only a matter of time until he left too.

All of you do, eventually. Even Eddie did, much to your chagrin. It was bittersweet, actually. He'd achieved his lifelong dream of getting out, a dream you both shared, but now you hoped he had chosen somewhere else to run to instead of right into you.

If you weren’t too busy being desperate about your current situation, one you’d been trying to avoid for longer than you thought it was possible, you’d be happy for him. Truly. Once upon a time, it was all you ever wanted. All you could ever talk about. Sitting on his bedroom floor, lying together on your roof, staring at Lover’s Lake — about how you’d get out of there and conquer the world.

You didn’t get to do it together like you planned, like you were meant to, but, then again, life found a way.

"There's nothing mysterious about this, though. Every idiot with a band in this country moves to California sooner or later, it was just a matter of time until they did too."

"May I remind you that he's not just an idiot with a band but actually your soulmate?"

The word soulmate pierces your heart like an arrow anytime you hear it, especially when it's related to yours. It reminds you of a painful conversation, one that was hard to forget.

"Don't say that. You're making it difficult for me." You murmur, closing your eyes for a moment too long. Still staring at the door, scared of someone walking in catching you hanging on to the receiver for dear life, unshed tears glistening in your eyes.

"I'm just saying, and I know I've said this a million times before, but I don't know how you haven't caved to those doe eyes of his. Soulmate or not, I would have, and I don't even like men. Not even a little bit."

Glimpses of warm brown filled your mind, deep and all-knowing. It was getting harder to breathe in the stuffy backroom, the walls seeming to close in on you.

A rational part of your brain, deep inside, knew that you were likely exaggerating. It wasn't like Eddie meant to hurt you — he couldn't even if he tried, that boy didn't have a mean bone in his body. In your worst moments, you tried to convince yourself that you had hurt yourself. You broke your own heart before he could break it first.

That same rational part of your brain knew it was inevitable. The heartbreak. It was only a matter of time until it all shattered — so, you left. You stopped writing at some point near the six month mark after you moved, he stopped calling a little after that. Life went on.

"You're not being very helpful, you realize that? I nearly had a heart attack when I saw him. They're all here, all of the boys. They're here, at the bar, rehearsing." You told her. "When Linda said they had hired a new band I expected something like them but not them, literally." Recounting what happened a few minutes before, you left out the part where you may or may not have crouched behind the bar counter to avoid being seen by your former classmates.

The Deuce was your safe place, and that was a lot to say about a bar that housed a little under a hundred rowdy rock fans almost every night and had seen its fair share of fights and public indecency charges in the time you worked there, but you liked it. Maybe it had to do with the fact that it was one of those places where everything felt possible and every night was different, or with the woman who took you under her wing and made you feel at home in the most chaotic moment of your life.

You trusted Linda, but not enough to tell her about your “one who got away”. Even if you did tell her about what led you here, the real reason you were miles away from home, you don’t think it would have made a difference in this particular moment. You had a feeling no one could put a stop to the red string that was, little by little, shortening the distance between you and the one who’s always held the other side of it.

It frightened you to no end.

"You should just talk to him. Rip that band-aid off. What are you going to do? Leave your job?"

After a beat of silence on your end, Robin continued, and the soft kindness in her voice was enough to finish breaking you. You wish you could hold her through the line. "You can't keep running forever."

Was it stupid that you thought you could?

Your heart beat fast under the tight black shirt you used to work that day, and unconsciously, your hand reached for the necklace under it. An old red guitar pick sat there, right under your collarbone, held between your fingers.

The only thing of his you couldn't keep in that damn box.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic

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greenorangevioletgrass · 9 months

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fever pitch (b.b.) - part one

previous part | series masterlist | next part

soundtrack: bewitched - laufeypairing: footballer!bradley x popstar!readersynopsis: you and Bradley find a secret garden and get acquainted... or maybe you already have?warnings: language, tension, fluff, angst but hypothetical?? idk, bradley is a dreamboat but what else is newnotes: the saga continues! i had a whole outline planned out, but then as i wrote it, it turned into a beast of its own and honestly, im just an employee here 🤷‍♀️ happy reading, and please let me know what you think in the comments, reblogs, and asks! i would love love loveeee to hear it from you <3

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“Are we even allowed in here?”

You and Bradley turn a corner from the club area into a narrow hallway. There’s a door that leads outside, thanks to the little glass pane, you can see a little terrace situation outside. Bradley tries the doorknob… and it opens.

“I mean, there’s no sign that says we can’t…” Bradley shrugs, offering his hand to guide you in.

Like Alice in Wonderland, you step into a formal English garden in the heart of this complex of townhouses-turned-clubhouse. In the middle of the bricks and noises of the city, there are beds of roses and manicured hedges and ravines over a stone arch. It’s small, but very intentional even with the mosses growing on the edges of the fountain in the middle. A Dionysus statue sits atop the fountain, as if pouring wine instead of water. A nice touch to celebrate festivities.

“Wow. This is straight out of the old movies we talked about.” You marvel at your surroundings. “Like… The Sound of Music or something.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, exactly.”

Bradley starts humming My Favorite Things as you stroll your separate ways around the garden, marveling at the evergreen shrubs and colorful perennials. You eventually meet each other again right in front of the Dionysus statue. It feels like a sign from the universe for him, so he asks,

“May I have this dance?"

He can't be real, can he? "Like a 'dance' dance?"

"Absolutely." He says it with such conviction that it's easy to forget that the deafening, thumping electronic music from the club is completely shut out from your little pocket of a park. And the only semblance of music you can hear is the rustling of leaves, the trickling of water, and the fluttering memories of Bradley's velvety tone.

So you take his hand. He pulls you in and leads you into a slow dance. You were expecting to just sway, this is surreal enough as it is, but as you dance around the fountain, you slowly notice… the slow and simple rhythm, the unmistakable one-two-three, one-two-three count… This is a waltz step.

“You are full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I try my best.” In a swift movement, he twirls you away and reels you back in with a spin. He just prays to God or whoever is listening that you can’t actually feel his racing heart as he holds your back flush against his chest.

(You can’t. You’re too busy calming your own.)

“So… you and your friends celebrating the success at Wembley?”

His voice tickles the back of your neck, and this sudden closeness is too much for you to bear. You strategically turn around so you’re facing him again. “Oh, no. This is just my night off. I still have… three shows left here.”

“So how long will you be in town for?”

“Another week.”

“And after that…?”

“Paris.”

“Right…” he nods. “And home is in… Los Angeles?”

The question catches you off-guard for some reason. You know he’s probably just asking where you live, but something about the way he asks it makes it sound like he’s asking about… ‘home’ home. “Technically, yes.”

He makes a face. That’s a strange answer… “What do you mean, technically? I’m sure you must have at least one home base somewhere, right?”

“I do, yeah.” You smile sheepishly. “LA is my home base. But… it’s not like I have any emotional attachment to the city or anything.”

“Where’s that, then, if not LA?”

You give it a good thought… but you got nothing. “I don’t know. Ask me tomorrow.” Maybe it’s the romance of the setting—although his warm hazel eyes play a crucial role too— it makes you feel more inclined to be more honest than you usually do.

Bradley smiles. He’s so fascinated by you, but at the same time, he has an inkling that he might need to solve a few puzzles himself before you let him in. And he would gladly take his time to get there.

At the same time, slow-dancing to a hummed classic with this man away from a modern-day nightclub… It makes you wonder what kind of person he is. “And you? You’re an American in London. Where’s home for you?”

“Well, I think Virginia will always be home, but this place has really grown on me. I’ve been here for most of my adult life, and this city, the team, the people… I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”

“Virginia, huh?” you smirk—imagining him growing up near the water, a sunkissed teenage boy shooting the shit with his friends.

“Yes, ma’am. Born and raised.”

It’s only at this moment that Bradley is so much like this garden. Seemingly out of place, frozen in time while the world moves all too fast around it. But at the same time, perfectly placed, a calm in the eye of the storm. Just for this little pocket of a park.

Just for you.

“Are you normally this… Southern gentlemanly? With the suit and the sweet disposition and the waltz…”

“Honestly? Not really.” He admits bashfully. “But, I don’t know. I feel like I’m in another era with you right now.”

“Oh?”

Bradley doesn’t elaborate right away. Instead, he asks you, "Do you believe in past lives?"

Your face lights up, and he knows he just asked the right question. "I don’t know. Do you?”

"A little…" he nods, thoughtful. "Maybe not in a religious sense where you die, you get judged, and then come back as a... worm or whatever. But.. I kinda like the idea that... no one is ever really a stranger, you know? That our paths have crossed at some point."

"And you're saying we've met before?"

"Oh, yeah." Again with the conviction, this motherfucker.

“Really?” You step away from him, entering a more cerebral dance than the one that you just swayed into. Your fingers barely touch the surface of the water on the fountain, and ripples it over as you walk by. "Where do you suppose we have met before?"

He looks up at the sky, moving clouds and all, pondering his answer. "I was thinking the 40’s and 50's—you know, the Golden Age. But I think it's a little earlier than that, don't you think?"

"Like... the Roaring Twenties?"

“Yes!”

His enthusiasm amuses and fascinates you endlessly, and you never needed much to fuel your active imagination anyway. "I like that. I can see you as... a former pilot who fought in World War I. And then went on to become a poet. Or a pianist."

"I think I'm better off as a pianist.” He’s not very good with words—he’s much better plunking the ivories to get the party going.

"Fair, fair. A jazz… pianist, maybe?"

"Ooh, interesting." Bradley smiles, picturing it in his head. "And what would you be?”

"I don't know. You tell me." You lean back against the stone arch, looking at him expectantly. His answer will determine how he sees you and thus, how you feel about him. And you want him desperately to have a good answer.

"I wanna say... the starlet, or the mysterious singer—"

"Oh, come on. Even in my past life, I'm still a singer? Can't I be something else?” You groan in protest.

He chuckles, settling right across from you. "Okay, okay..." he looks at you deeply, pensively for a moment. "You're one of those socialites, who drank martinis and danced the Charleston until morning."

"Makes sense. I do love martini... and the Charleston."

"Right? You'd be one of those girls who rebelled against daddy dearest and partied all night, maybe broke a few hearts along the way."

"Including yours?"

“I don't know. You tell me."

Now it's your turn to pause and take a good look at him. You try to picture it; how boisterous and bright he must be, getting the party going by playing ragtime or samba. And you try to picture toying with his feelings; those irresistible hazel eyes watching you longingly across the room as you give some random man time of day for no other reason but to spark his jealousy...

"Nah. I think yours is the only one I didn't break. Not on purpose, at least,” you conclude definitively. The thought of leaning over the piano, sipping on cocktails while he croons out some love ditty—or sitting on his lap while he teaches you a Christmas tune at a holiday party seems way more appealing.

"What do you mean?”

"Well, you said so yourself about daddy dearest. He wanted me to marry one of his business associates, an heir to a shipping company or something.” You cheekily stroll past him, down the little path towards the fountain again.

Bradley smiles knowingly, just a step behind you. "Ah. And I'm just a lowly little pianist. What chance did we have, huh?"

You halt your steps and turn around to face him, a mischievous smirk on your face. "Would you have fought for me?"

To your surprise, he meets your gaze with a soft, unwavering look. "Without a doubt. I would have stood up to your father and told him that we were meant to be together, come hell or high water."

The phrase echoes in your head. Come hell or high water. It’s so loud, it sends you reeling and you had to sit down on the edge of the fountain. Suddenly the image of a screaming match flashes so clearly in your mind. Bradley's hand gripping years for dear life. The shallow sobs under the suffocating constrict of your dress. The tears blurring the sight of him leaving…

“But it didn't work, did it…”

He doesn't hear a question in your words —it sounds like a statement. And Bradley, ever the hopeless romantic, wants to say no. Of course it worked out, it had to. Maybe you ran away with him and lived a life of simple means. But it wouldn't have mattered, because it would've been full of music and dancing and love.

But the heartbreak in your eyes is so palpable, so...real. For a moment, it felt like the two of you actually lived it. You were just retracing the forgotten steps now.

"No.” He shakes his head softly, sitting next to you. "We tried. We fought, but... we lost.”

You know that, but it hurts to hear it anyway. Still, you can't help but continue the story. "I think I ended up marrying the businessman, do the right thing for my family. And let you go... play your music in Paris or something. Chase your dreams."

The life he imagined. Of simple means and abundant music... just no you. "I would have written so many songs about you..." he chuckles wistfully. As painful as it would've been to keep picking at old wounds, at least he would still have you in his life.

"I think I would've found your record eventually,” You pipe up, partly in self-consolation. Sure, it might be a stretch, but you're way beyond caring. You needed a piece of him, too. "And I would put it on every time I missed you. Which was every night."

The night is so still, even the leaves seem to give you a moment of privacy. Your little fingers barely touch on the edge of the bench as you sit and grieve for a tragic love story that never happened.

Eventually, though, you take a deep breath and break the silence. "Fuck. I could write a whole album based on that."

Bradley laughs at your sudden interruption, glad that you snapped him out of his reverie and brought him back to reality. "Yeah? I would be happy to help you brainstorm."

You throw him a look. It feels weird to return to this point of acquaintance after feeling like you’ve gone through lifetimes with him. But you’re glad to start anew in this life. "Is that your roundabout way of saying you wanna keep seeing me?"

"Maybe. Is it working?"

"I don't know. I don’t do maybe’s. You should ask me for real.”

Holy fuck. He closes his eyes for a moment as his heart skips. You always seem to keep him on his toes, do you? "Alright. Can I see you again? Maybe take you out to dinner?"

"I would like that. Does tomorrow night work for you?"

"Perfect." he beams at you. Fuck playing it cool, he just won himself a date with you.

"We should swap numbers so we can figure out the details.” You reach into your purse to grab your phone. And then, something dawns on you, making you smirk devilishly at him, "You wanna put your number in, or would you rather give me that friendship bracelet I heard you made for me?"

Bradley stops dead in his tracks. Of course that public declaration was gonna bite him in the ass. He was doing so well, dancing and talking and making an actual connection with you...gosh, he must've looked stupid right now. "You knew about that?" He grimaces.

"Of course. I have eyes and ears everywhere, " you sling coyly, letting him punch his numbers into your phone with great embarrassment. "That, and Natasha might have sent me a post on Instagram.”

He sighs in defeat as he hands your phone back. "Goddamn it, Natasha…"

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fluentmoviequoter · 8 months

Note

i was wondering if you can do like a secret admirer / friends to lovers thing with tim bradford? like reader or tim are sending each other notes and get them something that they’ve mentioned before but never had time or the resources to get. sorry if that sounds confusing

I hope this is along the lines of what you wanted; if it's not, let me know and I'd be happy to try again! Thanks for the great request and please feel free to let me know what you think!🤍

Secret Admirers

Warnings: fluff, brief angst, friends to lovers, obliviousness, brief LA Rams slander

Word Count: 1.9k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“How am I supposed to consider you a friend when you say things like that?” you ask.

Tim shakes his head. “You’re just mad because I’m right.”

“There are other things to do besides football,” you argue.

“I thought it was my night to pick.”

“You always pick football.”

“The Rams are playing.”

You sigh dramatically, leaning against Tim’s shoulder. “Fine, turn on the game, let me lose a few more IQ points.”

Tim’s shoulder moves below you, the only sign that he’s laughing at your actions. If you didn’t want to watch football, he wouldn’t make you, because he’s a good friend. No one knows; you only got close to him because of your relentless pursuit of getting to know him. And now you’re inseparable.

“You know you’re my closest friend?” you ask.

“Then you should get out more,” he deadpans.

“You love me.”

“Whatever you need to hear.”

“Tell me I’m your best friend and I’ll tell you the Rams are making it to the Super Bowl.” You lower your voice to add, “For once.”

Tim’s eyes narrow as he moves to look at you. “You have to mean it.”

Nodding, you put on your most serious expression.

“You are my best friend,” Tim says.

You smile brightly, and Tim presses his lips together to hide his smile.

“The Rams are going to the Super Bowl. Guaranteed,” you tell him.

“Well now they are. You’re our luck,” Tim mumbles, leaning back against the couch again.

“Heard that.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You haven’t seen Tim in almost a week. After the game ended, a win for the Rams, he got called into work and has barely been home since. Just long enough to sleep and eat each night before he’s gone again. Los Angeles has been dealing with numerous crime sprees, like a miniature version of the Purge that the Mid-Wilshire Division faces singlehandedly.

Your stomach rumbles around lunchtime, and as you reach for your bag, you realize Tim probably hasn’t had a good meal this week. Dialing the number of his favorite restaurant, you place a huge order to be delivered to the station, not even thinking about letting Tim know who it’s from.

Knowing Tim has food he’ll enjoy, you rest a little easier and continue your day with a small smile.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey,” Tim sighs, letting you inside. “Sorry I’ve been so busy this week.”

“No problem, glad you’re home.”

“You’ll never guess what happened,” he says. “Someone sent a ton of food from my favorite restaurant yesterday afternoon. The timing was perfect; we were all exhausted and starving. And… it’s been so long since someone just did something nice for me like that.”

Tim smiles as he shakes his head gently.

“I wish I knew who it was from so I could thank them properly.”

You consider telling him, but first, you ask, “Think it’s a secret admirer?”

Tim barks out a single laugh. “Yeah, because this is going to become a regular thing.”

That’s all the answer you need. Keeping your mouth closed, you nod and become Tim Bradford’s secret admirer. He deserves everything and more, and it’s up to you to show him.

You’ve always felt something for Tim, and as you start taking note of little things he likes or wants, you avoid confronting what these feelings could really be.

✯✯✯✯✯

“More to come,” you say as you finish writing the letter.

After a few days of giving Tim small gifts and becoming more attuned to his wants and likes, you add handwritten notes to your deliveries to add a personal level. He hasn’t seen your writing enough to determine you are his secret admirer, so you give him the acknowledgment and words of affirmation he craves, often without knowing.

Securing the note to the top of the box, a new Rams jersey, you smile. Being Tim’s secret admirer makes you happy, but more than that, it makes Tim happy, which is the one thing you want in the world.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim opens the box before the letter, his eyes widening at the brand-new, once-worn Rams jersey. Closing it quickly, he reaches for the letter before stopping. Tim feels strange accepting the gifts, especially one that is so expensive. But, if whoever this is wants to do something so kind, the least he can do is accept them. It’s not just about the money, though, Tim realizes. His thoughts often drift to you, and he can’t place why, but he still wonders if accepting something from others will create a rift in his relationship with you.

First, it’s not too expensive. You deserve so much more than you would ever be willing to get for yourself. So, accept it and enjoy it.

Tim shakes his head; whoever wrote this knows him better than he thought. They’re probably close.

Happiness isn’t something you have to earn or prove you are worthy of.

Closing the card and tucking it underneath the jersey, Tim prepares to leave for the day. After stowing the thoughtful gift from his secret admirer in his backseat, he drives to a nearby store to pick up a few things for dinner.

While shopping, Tim sees something you have always wanted but have never been able to afford. After receiving so many kind gifts and hearing the exact words he unknowingly craves, he feels a strong urge to give you something you want and deserve, too.

It's after dark when he leaves the store, so Tim decides to put it on your porch in the morning as a surprise. You’ll know his writing, so he prints a note that you deserve nice things, even when you don’t feel like you do.

Once it’s safely on your porch before sunrise, and Tim is driving to the station, he realizes that he doesn’t like having a secret admirer. Not because he doesn’t like the gifts or the money spent on him, but because he doesn’t want to lose you if the secret admirer wants more.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tears gather in your eyes when you see the gift on your porch. After years of daydreaming about spending that kind of money on something you love and then talking yourself out of it with an argument that you don’t deserve it, you don’t know what to do. The note attached to it silences each of the thoughts racing through your mind.

Being a secret admirer and having one are very different things, and you’re not sure you like this.

✯✯✯✯✯

Each gift Tim receives over the next week deepens his frown, even as he reads the kind notes attached. He wants to know who it is, so he can explain that he’s grateful, but it needs to stop. You’ve stayed at his side through each letter, glad that someone is being kind. Tim’s contention comes from the fact that when he gets something, he wants to call you and share it with you, but that may not be fair to you. Yes, he’s your secret admirer, but he doesn’t want to lose you because of his. It’s probably an irrational fear, but if someone is doing this and expecting to move forward into a real relationship with Tim, he can’t. He won’t.

On Friday, the end of his first week as your secret admirer, he sends you a bouquet, not made of flowers, but of things that constitute your favorite hobby. It’s incredibly thoughtful, and the note comes straight from his heart. He mentions something specific about your past, smiling as he pictures your excited smile.

✯✯✯✯✯

When you accept the large arrangement, your eyes widen as you reach for the card first. The last line mentions something you’ve only talked about once. The one time you confided about it to someone was to Tim Bradford.

Your jaw drops as you realize that Tim is the only person who could have been doing this over the last week. That means he probably knows that you’re his secret admirer, too. Grabbing your car keys, you drive straight to the station, ready to tell Tim it’s been you and you meant every word you said.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Who dropped it off?” Tim demands.

“Sergeant,” the woman begins.

“Don’t tell me that it was a delivery, they have to give a name. I need to know who is giving me this stuff because I can’t accept it!”

You stop in the hallway, listening to Tim’s raised voice as he refuses to accept a gift.

“I can look into it.”

“Please do,” Tim says, quieter.

Stepping out of the hall and walking toward the bullpen, Tim sees you, and his shoulders drop in relief. He walks to your side and leads you somewhere private to talk.

“You don’t want a secret admirer anymore?” you ask softly, your fingers brushing the edge of the envelope hidden behind your back.

“No.”

“Why not?”

Tim sighs, rubbing his hand on his jaw before answering, “Because I’m in love with someone else.”

Even though you were sure the letter was from him, you drop your eyes and begin second-guessing yourself. Maybe you mentioned it to someone else, or they just found out. Tim notices your change and steps closer.

“What’s going on?” he asks gently.

“Nothing, I just- I should go.”

You rush out, and Tim can’t chase you because he has to work. He calls and texts you throughout the rest of the afternoon, growing grumpier with each ignored message and ring.

When he finally gets off work, he drives straight to you and knocks on your door, determined to get answers.

“I thought it was you,” you admit, opening the door and not letting him speak. “I was getting letters too and I thought they were from you.”

Tim’s anger dissipates nearly immediately with your soft voice and downcast eyes. “They were. The letters were from me.”

“Then-“

“That’s why I can’t let whoever is sending me such thoughtful gifts continue,” Tim interrupts. “Because I have feelings for you.”

You pull Tim inside, leaning against the door as you say, “But it's all been from me.”

Tim’s eyes widen, and his mouth gapes open as you pass him an envelope. He opens it, nearly choking on air as he sees two tickets to the next Rams game.

“Why didn’t you just tell me at the station?” he asks, looking between you and the tickets before moving toward you.

“You said you were in love with someone else,” you answer with a shrug.

Tim chuckles, letting you see his smile as he bends to look into your eyes. “Because I didn’t know it was you.”

“I was going to tell you. At the game, if you’d let me go.” You fiddle with your fingers until he slides his hand between yours.

“I have a better idea.”

“What?”

Tim sets the tickets on the table behind him. Turning toward you, he takes your face between his hands and kisses you. His slow, languid movements reinforce everything he has expressed through his actions and written words over the past week.

You gasp when his lips meet yours, clutching his shirt in your grasp as you kiss him, letting your actions speak yet again.

“Will you go out with me?” Tim asks, breathless as he pulls back, his hands dropping to your waist. “Some walking angel gave me a few Rams tickets, and I’d love to take you.”

“Depends,” you answer with a hum. “What are your thoughts on secret admirers?”

Tim squeezes your waist gently. “I love mine.”

#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford #fem!reader #requests

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