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roosterforme · 4 months

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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 10 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After just two days back home, Bradley takes you on a second date. He wants more, and you don't seem to mind when he can't keep his hands and lips to himself.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language, Bradley being boyfriend material

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

"Shit."

It had been such a long time since Bradley wore anything other than a flight suit, a khaki uniform or gym clothes, he had no idea what he was supposed to wear to dinner tonight. You mentioned weeks ago you thought Italian food sounded nice for a second date, and he agreed wholeheartedly. He managed to snag a table for the two of you at Salvatore's, and he was absolutely prepared to drop over five hundred bucks, but his clothing was becoming a situation.

After spending the entire day with you yesterday, Saturday morning was a bit of a reality check. He was trying to work through three loads of laundry while he sorted through a box of mail. There was nothing sweet in there like the packages you and your class sent to him while he was deployed. It was mostly bills that had already been automatically paid online, mortgage statements, and junk. Then he started folding laundry, somehow expecting some articles of clothing that weren't threadbare tee shirts or tropical print button downs to jump out at him.

"Why don't you have normal clothing?" he asked himself as he picked up his phone now that it was late enough to text you. He wanted to make sure you were okay with grabbing a drink before the dinner reservation which wasn't until 7:45. But when he unlocked his phone, instead of zero new messages, he found a picture you sent seven minutes ago.

"Oh my god," he groaned softly, dropping onto his bed next to some unfolded laundry. You were in your own bed wearing his favorite sweatshirt and a bright smile.

Good morning, Handsome. Last night felt like a dream, but your sweatshirt is real, so it must have happened.

He scrambled to write back, clothing crisis forgotten. God, he wanted to be in that bed in the worst way. Things would definitely get out of hand pretty quickly, but he knew those first few kisses would be the sweetest things. After last night at the beach, waiting for a few more dates was going to be the challenge of his life, but he wanted you to know he was in this for the long haul. Especially after you mentioned that you thought he may have ghosted you.

Hey, Gorgeous. My sweatshirt looks way better on you than it ever did on me. Did you sleep in it?

He hit send and then wished he hadn't asked that question. He sounded like a horny twenty year old. It was bad enough that he had to practically beg you to go inside your apartment last night while you were kissing his neck, but he didn't want to embarrass himself.

Of course I did. It smells like you. The only thing better would be having you in my bed, too...

How the hell was he supposed to wait until this evening to see you? He tossed his phone aside. His blood felt like it was on fire, and he was sweating. Never before had he wanted to move this fast from a first date to making things official. But he knew you. He'd been working up to this point for months. And the Thai dinner with Prosecco on the beach wasn't really a first date. That felt closer to a reunion with a girlfriend than anything else. The only thing missing for that to have been true was a sleepover instead of him taking you home for the night.

He was too many steps ahead right now. You hadn't yet done the drive down to Coronado from Mira Mesa for yourself, but he already caught himself wondering if you'd consider moving in with him in the future. "You need to relax," he ground out through gritted teeth. "You'll scare her away." He cracked his neck and forced himself to fold a stack of underwear before picking up his phone to reply.

I don't want to rush things, but your bed does look very comfortable. I'm confident we could get cozy there... You're making me blush. I need to get this conversation back on track. Cocktails before dinner at Salvatore's? I'll pick you up at 5:30?

A few minutes later, you responded with a photo of you still all snuggled up in bed, smiling and giving him a thumbs up in his shirt.

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

"Just in case," you muttered, making sure your bedding was straightened and your room was tidy. You left Bradley's TOP GUN sweatshirt folded on your pillow, but you certainly wouldn't mind having the man himself in your bed tonight. Your fingers and toes tingled when you thought about it. You bit your lip and scooped up his shirt, inhaling his scent one more time before you realized he would be here any minute.

When he knocked on your door, you set it back on your pillow and glanced at yourself in the mirror as you bounced past it. Cocktails and dinner at Salvatore's would have been a major splurge for a night out for you, but Bradley selected the restaurant. All you did was mention Italian food, and he really ran with it. You'd have been happy with some pizza and breadsticks, simply excited he remembered you mentioned Italian food at all, but this called for your littlest black dress and your brightest red lipstick.

"I'm coming!" you called, going as fast as you could in your black heels, giggling at the double meaning. You had to compose yourself before you could open the door, and when you did, you were met with the actual man of your dreams.

"Hey, Gorgeous." Bradley's crooked little smile faltered a bit as his gaze slid down from your eyes to your lips, but he didn't stop there. He was shamelessly checking you out as a pretty shade of pink crept up into his cheeks, and you did a slow turn for him.

Your skin felt warm as you met his eyes after doing a full circle. His lips were parted as you whispered, "Hi," and reached for his hand. As soon as your skin met his, he pulled you closer to him. "Bradley." His lips were on yours as he backed you up into your apartment until you softly met the wall behind you. He was big and warm, and you were holding his left hand while his right one came up to your face.

He broke the kiss by tipping your chin up so you were looking at him. "You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," he crooned softly. Your lipstick was smudged along his mouth, and his tongue darted out to taste it before he said, "I'm fucking crazy about you."

His rough thumb dragged along your bottom lip as you said, "And you've never even seen me dispose of a spider for you."

"Baby," he rasped. "I'd probably propose."

A shocked giggle escaped you, and his crooked grin was back as he kept you there against your wall with your door wide open. You reached up and ran your fingers along the collar of his oxford shirt before tugging on the fabric until his lips were on yours again. You let your head tip back against the wall as he devoured you, tasting your lips, tongue and teeth before his forehead came to rest gently on yours.

"You know," you gasped, trying to catch your breath, "I thought all your emails were sweet and romantic."

He chuckled as he pulled away from you. "I was hoping I was doing okay in person, too."

You shrugged playfully and tried to spin out of his grasp, but his hand was still wrapped up in yours. He followed you to your coffee table so you could grab your purse as you casually told him, "You're even better in person than I thought you'd be."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, pulling you close again. "You like my stupid looking clothes and how I can eat three meals for dinner?"

He was so endearing, you didn't know how to handle him. So you kissed him again and whispered, "I like all of it." You let your fingers trail along his shirt buttons as you said, "You look nice in this, but I can already tell you're more comfortable in your colorful Aloha shirts and jeans. And I love that you can eat three meals for dinner, because we ended up sharing everything last night."

"Let's go," he coaxed, leading you toward your door. "I'll let you pick whatever you want to try at Salvatore's. I don't usually like sharing my food, but there's just something about you, Gorgeous. You make me feel comfortable."

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

You tried to tell Bradley twice that he still had some of your lipstick smudged on his face, but he just shrugged and said, "Good," in response both times. If he didn't mind, then neither did you. It couldn't be any more obvious that he was with you when the exact color that was on your lips was also on his. You listened to him hum along to the retro oldies station as he merged onto the coastal highway while you took a minute to fix up your own smudged lipstick.

He grinned over at you as you put your makeup away and said, "Come on, Baby. If you didn't want it on my face, then you wouldn't be putting more on your lips."

Every time he made a bold statement like that, you wanted to cancel dinner altogether and take him to your bedroom. "I never said I didn't want it on your face. It looks good."

He reached out blindly for your hand, and you grabbed his immediately. "You did tell me you wanted me to kiss you as soon as I saw you."

"Yeah," you muttered. "Don't stop doing that." You knew things with him were going to get physical pretty quickly, but you'd never been quite this attracted to someone before. You drew little shapes on his palm as you asked, "How was your first night back in your own bed after so many months away?"

He groaned softly. "Epic. Fantastic. I don't fit very well in an extra long twin bed."

"No, I would imagine you don't," you said with a laugh as you watched him drive his Bronco in the evening sunlight.

He licked his lips and grinned as he said, "Would have been better if you were there though."

The eruption of butterflies in your belly left you biting your lip. You wanted to respond, but you needed to be able to make it through dinner before you were hanging off of him again like you were last night. That's when he brought your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles, treating you to his mustache there. "Feel like getting a drink or two in the lounge first? Maybe a bottle of wine?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed, ready to go anywhere he took you. As soon as he parked, he jogged around to help you down, letting you slide against his body with your hands on his shoulders. You wobbled a bit in your shoes, but he kept you steady.

"You good?" he asked as he leaned in, his lips brushing the side of your neck as his arm wrapped around your waist.

"So good," you promised. "Never better."

Bradley kept his hand right there on your hip as he led you along the sidewalk toward the restaurant. The lounge was packed; this was definitely a popular weekend date night locale. Couples filled the space with noisy conversation, but you could hear Bradley perfectly as his lips found your ear when he said, "There's an empty stool at the far end of the bar." He gave your hip a little squeeze as you headed for it, and he leaned on the bar next to you. "Why don't you pick out a bottle of wine or whatever you want? I'll go let the hostess know we'll be hanging out in the lounge."

When you agreed, he kissed your lips like the two of you had been at this for years, not just since yesterday. You weren't the only one who watched him walk away in his snug pants and Oxford shirt that somehow showed off his biceps. He was just that good looking. When you saw him without a shirt on, you'd probably faint and need him to revive you. When the bartender came over, you were chuckling to yourself at the idea of having sex with Bradley while he kept his shirt on to save you from that fate.

"Can I get you a drink?"

You looked at him in a daze, realizing you meant to choose a bottle of wine. You blurted out what kind you liked best, and with a nod and a smile, he turned to fill your request. And that's when you finally looked at the menu and realized the bottle was more than a hundred and fifty dollars.

"Oh shit." But it was too late. He had already opened it and was heading your way with it. You scrambled in your purse for your wallet, cringing at the idea of Bradley seeing the bill when you could have simply ordered a cocktail instead. Just as the bartender was pouring out a bit of the wine for you to try, you found your credit card successfully. And that was also when Bradley came back.

"They'll come get us when our table's ready," he said. "I told them it would be easy to find me since my date is the most beautiful woman in the restaurant." He watched the bartender pick up a second glass and said, "Oh perfect, you found some wine that you like."

You nodded and tried your best to pass your credit card across the bar undetected with your hand covering it. "I sure did."

Bradley's eyes followed your hand as he took a sip of the wine. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," you told him, picking up your own glass with your other hand. You tasted the wine and nodded at the bartender, and then he filled up both glasses while Bradley reached for your credit card.

"That's not necessary, Gorgeous. You can put that away."

You waited until the bartender walked off before you shook your head. "Let me pay for the wine. I was distracted and just picked a random bottle before I looked at the price, and then it was too late because he already had it opened. It's expensive."

Bradley looked completely unfazed as he eased your card from your hand and tucked it back into your wallet. "I don't care about that."

"I do," you said softly in your embarrassment. "I don't want you to think that's what I expected."

Bradley laughed in response. "First of all, I would never think that. And second, I was on that aircraft carrier for so long, and this wine tastes so good, and you look so pretty... I don't even want to tell you how much I'd be willing to pay for that bottle of wine and our dinner."

You simultaneously felt better and a little warm. "Okay, fine. But next time we go out for dinner, we're getting burgers from In-N-Out, and I'm paying."

His smile grew as you sipped your wine which really was quite good. "So that means you want to go out again?"

You rolled your eyes up at him where he stood, his hand brushing your knee where it was crossed over your other leg. "I'm about to make an In-N-Out reservation right now."

"Perfect," he replied. "Which night? I have to work late a few days next week to get caught up on everything I missed while I was away."

"You're ridiculous," you told him with a laugh. "How about Wednesday?"

His fingers toyed with the hem of your dress as he said, "Wednesday's good. You also need to let me know when I can visit your classroom again." His words were so sweet, and his gaze was sincere, but the feel of his fingertips inching along your skin above your knee was something else.

You set your glass down next to your purse and reached for his hand, letting his fingers slip underneath your dress as you met his brown eyes. When he teased your skin with his rough hands, you reached for his shirt, and Bradley came willingly. Salvatore's didn't provide the two of you with the same level of privacy as the beach last night had, but you didn't really care, and he didn't seem to either.

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

You had the softest skin. How was he supposed to keep his hands off you? And that red lipstick made your little pout when he teased you even more delectable than he could have imagined. And he'd been doing plenty of imagining for the last few months. He'd imagined you in a variety of scenarios with him, but so far being with you in person surpassed everything his vivid thoughts came up with.

When he mentioned visiting you at work, you treated him to the silky soft feel of your skin, and then you literally grabbed the front of his shirt and tugged until he was kissing you. Oh god, he was never going to recover from this. He had to wrap his hand around the middle of your thigh to keep himself from going any further as you moaned softly into his mouth. He was absolutely starving and a little dizzy from the wine, but he was thinking about skipping dinner in favor of the solitude of the Bronco right now.

"Mr. Bradshaw?"

Your tongue was slowly tasting his when you jerked away from him as the hostess strolled over. Embarrassed, you turned toward the bar as Bradley grunted in response at the young woman who told him the table was ready for the two of you. And maybe that wasn't a bad thing, because feeling you up in the middle of the crowded lounge wasn't something he'd feel good about later. At least not on the second date. He'd bring you back here in a few months and see if the two of you even made it to dinner.

With a smile, he reached for your free hand after you picked up your glass. You halfway hid your face against his bicep as the hostess picked up the bottle and led the way through the lounge and into the restaurant. Bradley kissed your forehead and murmured, "If I could keep my hands off of you, this wouldn't be a problem."

You peered up at him through your lashes. "Hanging out on your couch alone is sounding better and better."

"Fuck," he groaned softly as you released his hand and took a seat at the table set for two which was overlooking the bay. Bradley pushed your chair in, and his thumbs met your bare arms. He took a few deep breaths before taking the seat opposite yours and accepted one of the menus as he listened to the specials while he looked at your face. He muttered some sort of response, and then the two of you were alone.

You emptied the remainder of the wine between his glass and yours, and then Bradley watched you lick a little droplet from your thumb as you smiled at him. "So which three dinners are you planning on ordering tonight?"

It took him a second to realize that he was holding an open menu even though he hadn't looked at it once. He cleared his throat and said, "Definitely some homemade spaghetti and meatballs. The last time I ate spaghetti, it was overcooked and sad, and I had to go back to my bunk and think about you to make myself feel better." You covered your mouth with one hand while you laughed, and it was the most charming thing he'd ever seen. "I'm so serious, Gorgeous. I got a plate of soggy noodles, and literally the only thing that made it better was imagining you teaching your class about military grade jets and aviation."

Your pretty eyes were glittering as you told him, "I keep extending my lessons on the topic, and you are completely to blame for that. After the first time you responded to us, my students asked about you every single day. They are completely enamored with you."

"Yeah? Just them? Or you too?" He knew his words were reminiscent of the way you'd tried to blame it on your kids when you asked him to send you a picture so you could see what he looked like.

"Hmm." You pretended to peruse your menu. "I'm thinking about the ravioli. Or maybe the penne with vodka sauce." Your foot tapped his leg beneath the table, and he had to fight the urge to reach under and touch your skin again. You were teasing him in every way right now, and he was absolutely loving it. When the waiter dropped off glasses of water and some freshly baked bread, he asked if you wanted anything else to drink.

"You want another bottle of wine, Gorgeous?" Bradley asked, deciding to tease you right back.

"Absolutely not," you told him, looking at him like he had two heads before kindly telling the waiter, "No, thank you."

He was still laughing when he picked up a piece of bread. "So we'll get spaghetti, penne and ravioli?"

"You don't have to order what I want," you told him, your foot still running along his calf while your expression dripped with innocence.

"No. I want to though." It was kind of fun spoiling you with something as simple as dinner. Vanessa would have made a comment by now about how much she hated the slightly kitschy, over the top restaurant, even if the food was supposed to be immaculate. You didn't seem to mind one bit that he ordered three massive entrees and intended to finish whatever you didn't. Vanessa always got embarrassed, but all you said was that you were excited to try all three.

There was never a lull in conversation. You actually listened to Bradley when he was talking, and he could have listened to you all night.

"So you know how last night I mentioned... that I'd never really thought about dating someone in the military who deploys for work?"

"Yeah," Bradley rasped, not sure he loved where the conversation was heading.

You looked a little apprehensive as you said, "I was thinking about it more last night after you dropped me off."

"And?"

You kind of shrugged and said, "I think I'd actually be okay with it, as long as it's you. It almost feels like we got some big, scary thing out of the way already, you know? And I could always write to you, because I kind of loved doing that. And yes, Bradley, I am also completely enamored with you."

It was almost a shame that the food arrived then, because as you started to cut into an enormous ravioli, all he could think to say was, "I'm completely enamored with you, too."

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

You were so full from dinner, you didn't know how Bradley could walk. He ate at least two times what you did, and then he insisted on ordering a piece of cheesecake. When you caught sight of the bill, you tried not to gasp, because it was more than you spend on groceries for a whole month. But he handed over his credit card and signed his name without even breaking conversation with you. And now you were discreetly grabbing a handful of mints on your way out of the restaurant as he held your hand.

It was late, and you knew he was still tired. He mentioned briefly that he had a lot of chores to do this week amidst some late nights at work, but you didn't know how you'd be able to wait until Wednesday to see him again. When he started up the Bronco and headed in the direction of your apartment, your mind flooded with questions, but he asked you one first.

"I already have plans tomorrow, but I don't think I can wait until Wednesday to see you again. What time do you usually get to school?"

"7:20."

"Okay. And what kind of coffee do you like?"

You couldn't stop smiling as you told him what you usually ordered on the rare occasion you had time to stop at Starbucks. You kind of already felt like he was spoiling you.

"Have you memorized everything I've ever told you?"

"Yep," he replied, his handsome smile evident in the street lights. "And I've gotta say, you're one of a kind, Gorgeous."

You honestly didn't want the ride to end. The fact that there was no buffer of traffic to add to the twenty minute drive made you pout a little bit. Bradley's deep voice layered over the music playing on the radio while he held your hand was intoxicating, but you made a disappointed sound as he parked in front of your building.

When he released your hand to kill the engine in the near darkness, all you could see was his handsome profile. "You thought the drive would be too much for me," you whispered. "But when I'm in the car with you, I don't want it to end."

He cleared his throat and softly said, "Well, we don't have to get out quite yet if you don't want to."

Your pout turned into a grin as you unbuckled your seatbelt. "I can tell you still need to catch up on some sleep. I don't want to keep you out too late, Bradley."

He chuckled and undid his own seatbelt. "Why don't you come a little closer and say my name again."

As you eased yourself onto your hands and knees, you scooted across the seat and whispered, "Bradley," with a little laugh.

"Closer?" he asked, and you crawled over to him until you were able to kiss his cheek.

"Bradley."

He turned his head so his lips met yours, and he whispered, "Closer," against your mouth.

You were immediately in his lap, your hands resting on his chest as the steering wheel met your lower back. Your lips found his scarred cheek just like last night, and you kissed your way along his mustache and the side of his nose. You let your hands drift slowly down over his abs until they met the leather of his belt, and you whispered his name one more time.

His big hands closed around your wrists as he groaned, "You really love teasing me."

You nodded and said, "I really do," as he guided your hands up to his shoulders and around his neck.

"You're really good at it, Baby. All those pictures of you in your bed are enough to get a man through a deployment and then promptly kill him once he's on dry land if he can't touch you immediately."

He kissed the inside of your arm, and you scooted your body a little closer to his. "You can touch me." Your words elicited a deep groan as he slid his big hands along your bare arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake. He kissed your lips, swiping his tongue against yours as his fingers trailed down your sides. You almost cried out when his thumbs grazed the sides of your breasts before he gently squeezed your waist and your hips.

You could invite him to stay over. You didn't think he'd turn you down if you did. But all you could manage to say was, "Bradley," between kisses.

He tipped his head back against the headrest and whispered, "I love the way that sounds." His eyes were glittering in the darkness as he looked at your face and your body, and you remembered his text message from earlier.

I don't want to rush things

It was hard for you to remember that yesterday in your classroom was the first time you touched him. The first time you heard his voice in person. As much as you wanted to lean in close and ask him to stay, instead you kissed his ear and said, "You promised me movie night on your couch. When?"

"Friday?" he asked, kissing along your neck. "Let me end the week with my Gorgeous girl?"

"Yes."

You were afraid you were going to melt right out onto the pavement when he opened his door, but he helped you down and kept his arm wrapped around you. Bradley walked a half step behind you in the darkness all the way to your apartment. While there was no expectation that he was going to join you inside, you ended up pinned against your door, because it didn't seem like he was quite ready to leave yet either.

He was eager. You could feel it as his lips found your neck again. He smiled against you as he whispered your name in that deep raspy voice. "Since you don't like surprises, I'm telling you right now that you should expect to see me in the parking lot at your school on Monday morning. Sound okay?"

"Oh god, yes," you whined as he released you. There were so many things you wanted to tell him as he put a foot of space between your bodies, really giving you a chance to see his pink cheeks and the way he was breathing deeply. You blurted out, "I'm falling so hard for you."

His crooked little grin was back as he nodded at your door. "Lock it behind you. And when you get in bed, in my sweatshirt, send me another selfie."

"I will," you promised, and you did exactly what he said. A minute after you texted the photo, you got a message back from him.

I think I'm falling even harder.

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I'm so obsessed with them. She was so concerned about that bottle of wine! And he really wasn't lol. Coffee and burgers and a couch date coming up. This story will be 18+ soon. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 11

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952 notes · View notes

vanteguccir · 7 months

Text

── ୨୧ !　𝗧𝗘𝗫𝗔𝗦 𝗜𝗦 𝗦𝗢 𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗗

　　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N and the triplets decide to go out for dinner at a pizzeria, but Y/N is cold and Chris becomes her personal heater.

REQUESTED?: Yes, from anon.

WARNING: None.

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

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"Forget about it!" Chris's voice sounded in a ridiculous Italian accent, catching Y/N's attention, who was a little away from the triplets as she looked at the pizzeria's sign.

The girl turned around, seeing Nick holding the camera with both hands, the lens focusing on Matt and Chris, her own silhouette probably appearing in the background.

Y/N smiled at the brothers' banter as she rubbed her hands together, trying to extract some heat from the friction as she mentally cursed herself for her chosen outfit option.

When the boys came up with the idea of trying a different Texas-style pizzeria that had good reviews online, she felt super excited. Her biggest hobby was discovering new restaurants, so much so that in LA, she took the boys with her at least once a week to have dinner out.

But she completely forgot that she wasn't in LA and that the cold in Texas was intense, reaching 2°C. And that was precisely why she was so angry with herself, having chosen a short dress with a long sleeve that did nothing to warm her arms and left her collarbone exposed, a pair of pantyhose too thin to even be felt against her skin and a pair of high-heeled, short-cut boots that didn't even reach past her heels.

Y/N pressed her legs together as she crossed her arms tightly around her own waist, white smoke leaving her lips with each deep breath. She just hoped the pizzeria had a good heater.

"Yeah, so we're eating pizza..." Nick turned the camera so that the lens framed him too, starting to explain what they were going to do.

Chris turned towards the entrance of the restaurant as he looked for his girlfriend, missing her presence by his side. His eyes found her quickly, a smile stretching across his face, but that was soon replaced by furrowed eyebrows upon seeing her condition.

He walked away from his brothers and took quick steps towards Y/N, placing his hands on her shoulders, feeling the tension in the area, probably due to the cold.

"Shit, you're freezing, baby. I told you to change your clothes." Chris murmured, his voice sounding panickly as he ran his hands up and down the girl's arms, trying to warm her up with the friction between his hands and the thin fabric of her dress sleeve.

Even though his words were scolding, his voice sounded like a wave of heat through Y/N's body. She just shook her head, a whine escaping her throat.

"I forgot it was 2°C." She responded in a weak voice, her teeth chattering as she tried to run her hot tongue over her lips, wanting to warm them up, but to no avail.

"Look, we have a penguin with us today." Nick's voice sounded close to the couple in a playful tone, his hand still holding the camera on as a laugh escaped his lips, the lens catching the two of them and Matt, who was looking at them with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed, probably worried about Y/N's situation.

"Texas is so cold." The girl complained, getting closer to Chris looking for more human warmth.

The boy hugged her tightly, the momentary heat penetrating Y/N's sore muscles, a sigh of relief escaping her lips.

"Thanks." Her voice was muffled, her face pressed completely against Chris' covered chest.

His arms wrapped around her shoulders so perfectly that their bodies looked like a two-piece puzzle. The human heat that surrounded Chris's body embraced Y/N's one, creating a bubble around the two. A sound of appreciation escaped Chris' lips at the closeness, his hands caressing his girlfriend's cold back.

The boy bent down slightly, bringing his face closer to Y/N's, sealing his lips momentarily on her forehead before running his nose lightly over the sensitive skin, a shiver running through the girl's spine due to the coldness of the tip of his nose.

A few seconds later, Chris realized that his girlfriend was still shivering, slightly moving her away from his body, receiving a sound of complaint in response.

Chris just raised his right hand, silently asking her to wait. He brought his hands to the hem of his black hoodie, pulling it up and removing the piece from his body, the beanie falling from his head with the movement.

Matt bent down, retrieving the beanie as a smile stretched across his face.

"Chris is a true gentleman, guys." Nick started from behind the camera, a smile in his voice. "Don't accept anything less than that." He continued, adjusting the camera's zoom so that it focused on Chris, who was holding the hoodie in his hands. His body now only covered by his baggy jeans and two layers of black turtleneck sweater.

The youngest of the triplets completely ignored him, approaching Y/N, who was watching his movements with wide eyes.

"Babe, no! You'll be cold." She exclaimed, raising her hands trying to stop him.

"My priority is your comfort, gorgeous." Chris returned it, arranging the hoodie in his hands so that he could slip the piece over his girlfriend's head, being careful with her makeup, knowing that if he messed it up, she would be mad.

The boy helped her pass her arms through the respective holes, pulling the hem down and pressing the fabric against her body, trying to warm her up more quickly.

"I loved the style, very aesthetic." Matt commented from the couple's side, letting out a laugh. Chris smiled as he rolled his eyes, wrapping his right arm around Y/N's shoulder, pulling her close, her arms wrapping around his waist.

"Can we eat now? Please?" Nick asked, his voice sounding desperate. He was eager to try the meatballs he'd seen so much of in the reviews.

"This is literally the only time you'll ever see me with chapped lips, I'm in the fucking Tundra right now." Matt spoke quickly as he looked at the camera, his icy hand passing over his lips.

Y/N opened her black purse - which only had a lip gloss and a watermelon Space Camp lip balm - and took out the lip balm, handing it to Matt, who jokingly celebrated before thanking her, opening the package and passing it across his lips.

"Free advertising." Chris's sentence was the last thing the camera captured, besides the others' laughter and the little "go buy Space Camp" comment made by Y/N, before Nick turned it off and they finally entered the pizzeria.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

extra - comments:

"Chris taking off his hoodie and giving it to Y/N because she was cold 😭"

"it's exactly because of Y/N and Chris that my standards are so high"

"yes Nick, we all know that Chris is a true gentleman 😔"

"can we take a few seconds to admire Y/N's beauty in that outfit? WHAT A WOMAN"

"Matt picking up Chris's beanie off the floor 😭"

"Chris hugging Y/N all worried and shit because she was shivering from the cold 🥺"

"Y/N lending her Space Camp to Matt after he complained about his chapped lips: the biggest advertisement you can have"

"Nick hire Y/N to advertise your brand right now!!!"

"MY PARENTS 😭🧎‍♀️"

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marcioturner · 2 years

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belleloveposts · 1 year

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#Italian linen tops #Linen Dungarees #Italian Clothing Online

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sushirrrry · 4 months

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fiabesco a harry styles x reader one-shot 2.2k words cw: so much fluff

“No, that's not– give it to me.”

Harry’s hands reached for the small device in your hand before you could speak another word. You huffed out a sigh of annoyance before you crossed your arms over your chest.

Harry looks at the phone and then back to the kettle, a few times to make sure that he's right, but you know that you are right.

“That's the right color, I promise.” Your words feel like they mean nothing as the two of you stand in front of the small display. You aren't even sure he's heard you.

It had been like this all day; you were both tired, drained from the house moving process. It was easier to shop online, you had told him. But Harry’s idea was to get you both out of the house, to give you a break from the four walls that you had moved into and been staring at for what felt like days.

That was proving difficult, as the photos and the real-life images were not matching up to either of your standards.

“This is not the same color as online,” Harry scoffed as he turned the kettle around in his hands. “This is like, a dark grey,” He holds the phone, then picks up the kettle. “This is chrome.”

You rolled your eyes, but Harry took notice before he put his hands on his hips and shook his head. The sleeves of his long-sleeved grey shirt were pushed up now; the clothes you both wore must have been filthy as you had been moving in the early hours of the day. The Italian heat was no joke, your frizzy hair and pink cheeks would speak on that.

You could tell that you were getting frustrated at one another. In all honesty, you knew that Harry wanted everything to be perfect and it was a bit frustrating to know that the item in the store wasn't what you both had wanted.

But you look at it with another eye, and note that it could work. “Let's just get it.” You say to him, shrugging. “If we don't like it in the kitchen, we can bring it back. It's not a huge deal.”

Harry’s the one to roll his eyes this time, “Aren't we here to buy this so we could have tea this evening? Isn't that why we're here and not showering?”

It was true– you had both come to the conclusion that the kettle was an important part of the first night ritual. It had dawned on you then that you couldn't really use the item and then bring it back.

“Well, let's buy this one– we can go to another store—” You were cut off by his grumbled words.

“Whatever– do whatever you want.” His visible frustration was pressing you as you bit on your lip. You thought about the photo he had shown you from the website and you really believed that you were looking at the same one.

A lot of the times, the photos were different than real life, and you think the shine may not have been as present in the photo. But you weren't sure.

As you bit your lip, you breathed outward as you spun the small kettle around in your hands.

“Do you really think—"

“I said do whatever you want! Get the fucking chrome then!” His voice was raised then; visible anger crossing his eyes as they knit together, and his hands stayed in his hips. It was a raised voice at me, and I could tell that we had both pushed each other to the brink.

Harry never got frustrated at you; he never yelled or raised his voice, he never looked angry. There weren't any frown lines crossing along his cheeks and forehead because Harry was hardly ever upset or mad at anything.

But you were pushed to your emotional breaking point as you set the kettle down on the shelf a bit too hard, making the metal shelf rattle as you did so. The tightness of your jaw only exceeded your need to cry as you pushed back the tears in your eyes.

You grabbed ahold of the bag that you held on to your shoulder as you started to walk towards the exit of the small kitchen store, nestled in the small nook of the Roman street.

Getting your dream home with the love of your life should have been a happy thing; it should have been a moment where the two of you relished in the sun and drank freshly made orange juice in the early summer mornings to beat the heat of the sun.

Instead, you were fighting back angry tears and walking away without another word because you didn't want to cry in the store. You pushed through the door, onto the street and didn't care if Harry was following you.

But he had been, he was right on your heel because that was the kind of person he was. Harry was kind; he never meant to hurt your feelings or make you frustrated. As soon as he raised his voice, his regret only further mad his anger grow– at himself this time, not the situation.

It was just that he had wanted the evening with you to be perfect. Everything had fallen into place so right. You had loved all of the furniture to the respective rooms, you set the TV up to be able to watch a film at the end of the night. After you had both showered, made love on the empty rug that blessed your living space floor, you would snuggle up on the sofa and watch one of your favorites— Notting Hill. A cup of tea in both of your hands as you allowed yourself the ideal summer night.

But instead, you two were frustrated and burnt out and in need of a meal and a shower, which felt more like it would lead to getting snuggled in bed and falling asleep on either sides.

You let a tear fall, but not anymore because now you could feel the exhaustion in your bones as you felt his presence on you now. You hear the scuffle of his trainers behind you as you lick on your lips and taste the saltiness of the tear that fell.

“C’mon, baby, I’m sorry.” You hear his voice, feeling the way that his hand grips at the back of your neck. It's in the comforting way that you like, as he guides you to turn and face him. Your head fits against his chest as you let it rest there for a moment; not caring about the way that you're sweating.

The hand on your neck moves into your hair as Harry keeps you there for a moment; letting his fingers glide into it, just below the placement of the clip holding your hair back.

“I didn't mean to snap at you,” He tells you, his lips placing on the top of your head as you stand against the wall of the store. The small nook feels private as you let out a huge sigh.

Harry laughs at that; his vibrato of a laugh is felt as you're against him, which makes you’re the edges of your lips move up in a soft smile.

“You're not mad at me, are you?” He asks, nudging an answer from you still.

This time, Harry nudges you away from him, but he places his fingers along your chin to raise you to look right into his eyes. It's a fluid movement, but you take in the way that his facial hair has grown out, the way that his skin has browned, and his eyes are light against it.

You purse your lips, swallowing as you shake your head with a discreetness that you're not even sure he could catch. But he must, because you see the way that the dimple pops along his cheek matter-of-factly.

“I think we're both stressed out,” He nods, “And we're both just a little on edge, hm?” Harry keeps pressing questions but your eyes stare at him for a moment before he presses on your chin again. His fingers feel strong as you hold your stare at him.

“I’m sorry,” You let out, wanting to keep yourself together, “I think we both just need to take a minute and get ourselves together. We were bound to lose ourselves at one point or another.”

The warm Italy breeze hits you and your shut your eyes for a moment as you feel the way that it trapezes across your skin.

“Hm,” Harry tuts, “I think I know a fix for this.”

His hand drops from your chin, grabbing ahold of your hand as you move through the small streets. They're cobblestoned and hold the footsteps of so many others before you— through love, breakup, first kisses, and first glances.

You don't know where he's leading you, but it's fine at the moment because you feel a burst of nostalgia and an outpouring of gratitude that you may have taken for granted before.

Who cared about the color of the kettle when the skies were the fiercest shade of cerulean and the sun hung in its highest peak? Who cared about any of that when the man of your dreams hung tightly onto your hand as he whisked you away and into the streets that would hold all of your memories from now on— bits of happiness here and there were awaiting you?

Harry pulled you along the streets, guiding you and marking small memories here and there as he would turn to ensure you were still with him. Even with the grasp his hand had in you, it felt important for him to know the smile and eagerness was still on your face.

As you arrived by the small socks that held rocky beaches and tented umbrellas, your eyes glided over the small gelato stand that had become accustomed to your routines since visiting Italy to begin with. But now your adventures together here had made this more of an availability than ever before.

Your heart stung at the pricelessness of the moment as you approached the stand with Harry on your hand.

“Bit of a treat to reward ourselves, hm?” He asked you, and your bit your lip as you tried to figure out what flavor you would get.

“Think I’m going to get pistachio,” You tell him, your heart settled on it.

Harrys hums for a moment before he tilts his head and purses his own lips. “Would it be boring for me to just saw custard?”

You laugh a little, nodding, “Yes, no custard. You have to do the lemon.”

You convince him; he orders the pistachio for you, and the lemon for himself— even if it was just so you could have both for yourself, taking bites of his when you could a chance.“Un pistacchio e un limone, per favore.” Your heart clenches at the words he speaks, the language flying off of his tongue as he does so with ease. You long await getaways together had turned into where you had felt your deepest love affairs.

He hands you yours, and the spoonful is glorious. It melts in your mouth as you both stand off to the side now, the sound of the river behind you as you let your eyes meet his again. You watch the kink of his smile as he hears the pleasure take over you.

“Good, then?” He asks as he takes his own bite. His lips drift over his lips as he nods to confirm it himself, humming in satisfaction.

“This was the perfect idea.” You tell him, taking another bite.

You both head over to a bench by the water, taking in the sites of the tourists and the loved one who have made their trek around the city. So much love and admiration as you sit in a bit of silence.

“What are you most excited for?” Harry asks you, breaking the quiet. You ponder the question for a moment before turning to face him a bit more.

“I think I’m just excited to build a home,” You say, watching as his eyes crinkle by the sides. It's subtle, but you notice with such ease that happiness looks marvelous on him. “Build a family.”

Harry looks at his treat before lifting his eyes to you. “So many,” He mumbles, “So, so many of our little babies.”

You hum before using your thumb to brush over his cheek; your chin leans in to give him the softest, most chaste kiss before pulling back and giving his eyes an easy glance.

“Sono così grato per questa vita.”

Harry leans in to kiss you, your hands wrapping into his hair as you accept it with ease.

“Un fiabesco.” He says against your lips, his eyes taking a glance into yours. It's the kind of dreaming that cannot be done unless you're asleep, certainly.

Your troubles all wash away as you melt away into the sun of the day, leaving bits of memories here and there along the streets of Rome, waiting for you to remember them later— smiling at the love and memories that had adorned them before you, and very much afterwards.

#harry styles #hs #harry fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x original character #anon ask #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry wattpad #ask #harry styles one shot #wattpad writer #harry styles story #harry #styles #one direction #one-shot #one-shot story #fiabesco

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lxtstrip · 4 months

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Homesick | C. Sturniolo

TW: weed/drugs mention

AN: first sturniolo fic — also don’t do drugs, smoke a joint (pack a bowl, rip a bong, eat an edible idc!) where/when legal and enjoy.

WC: 935

Pairing: Chris x Reader

“Stay in Boston.” Chris read with confusion from a crumpled note he found in his newly thrifted hoodie pocket. He didn’t think much of it, just some trash left by an artist in Los Angeles. Whether it was a photographer, videographer, songwriter, or maybe a failed sketch was anyone’s guess.

What he wasn’t aware of was the treacherous journey that hoodie had taken to get to him and its ties to the city he called home. The hoodie had gone through a family vacation, a boy’s high school career, moving into a college dorm, a relationship, many italian ice date nights, and a breakup. The hoodie signified an era of someone’s life; the same tagline as everything else you lay your eyes on at a thrift store.

He thought about everything he had ever known as the items were piling up in his newly found second hand collection. Donating his skates when he was 13, his mother cleaning out the garage of all their holiday things, and even down to his brothers piling clothes on the bed to list for sale online. He didn’t own much, just enough to keep him out of trouble, so the thought of someone having enough to give away was enough to make his head spin.

He kept the paper regardless of whether it was trash or not. Chris adored Boston and only associated positive memories with it. Fenway Park, Gillette Stadium and TD Garden were his go to places to hang with his friends, brothers, or even alone. He remembers frantically Googling ‘free things to do in Boston’ before dates and eventually dipping into his wallet after he couldn’t find anything good with pride. He was someone who would do anything to make anyone happy, whatever the cost, but he couldn’t apply that theory to himself.

When all was done and dusted for the day he decided to shut himself in his room and unwind. He ran his fingers down the spines of the books you gave him, reading the titles to himself, hearing your voice with each syllable. Empty promises of going to visit him came flooding back into his memory as soon as he saw your favorite book; tattered edges, taped spine, and a receipt paper bookmark. He shook himself out of it and went to his desk to pack a bowl.

With a swift flick of the lighter Chris pressed the glass to his lips and inhaled for a moment feeling the weight of the world lift off of his shoulders. He sat in his computer chair and looked around his room for signs of you - something, anything. He repeated the motion a few times and grabbed the torn piece of paper from his thrifting excursion.

“Stay in Boston.” Chris repeated to himself countless times before grabbing his phone. He knew your number by heart and as soon as he hit the call button an all-too-familiar ache came over him. He took another hit and exhaled when he heard your voicemail message play. He never thought he’d be here; alone, in his room, pining after a love lost.”

“Hey, it’s Chris…” he started. “I wish you were here. I’ve said it every day to myself while I’ve been out here. I know neither of us wanted this… I don’t think either of us knew what we wanted. I’ve been getting by on memories of stumbling to diners and stealing the mugs or skipping classes to go hang out at the park…” he took another hit and sighed. “What I’m trying to say is my heart will always have a space for you, my brain has always had one.”

You looked at your phone to see another voicemail from Chris. You shrugged it off thinking it was most likely another message he recorded at a party where he would preface it with whatever drug he was taking at the time; the west coast ruined him. As much as you hated to admit it you kept up with their videos and you locked in on Chris looking more gaunt every time.

You hadn’t answered a call from Chris in months and you never reached back out. You listened to his newest voice message as you recanted the first call since the split. He had just done a few lines of cocaine and he described it as feeling a sense of finally being able to focus to a greater extent. It shook you to your core that a once happy-go-lucky boy turned into… this. You couldn’t even begin to describe what you were feeling.

Chris often called to describe his high to you; cocaine, ayahuasca, benzos, acid, angel dust, salvia - the list went on. You were still his safe space and since he drew the conclusion you weren’t even listening to them he let his troubles go in the safe space of voicemails and dial tones.

Chris clutched the “Stay in Boston” note and thought about what it meant to the previous owner of the hoodie. Chris also thought about why this would fall into his lap and when it did. He slowly fell back into his nightly routine while he continued to contemplate that random piece of paper.

After a night of continuing keeping up his high, losing games, and melting his brain over three words Chris decided to head to bed. The second he was in bed it’s as if on cue he saw your name flash across his screen. It knocked his next breath out of him as he answered with a simple “Hello?”

“Chris…” you said followed by a shaky exhalation. “Please stay in Boston.”

#tw: weed #tw: drugs

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cure-icy-writes · 6 months

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Okay so. A lot of people have been making cute little dungeon meshi aus where it's modern, but specifically the cast lives in one place. Figured I should maybe share mine?

Anyways. Dungeon Meshi but it's midwestern.

-Senshi, i think, is a regular presence in the church but is the kind of christian that the pastor has beef with. He has an apron with two fish and five loaves of bread on it, and can be found at pretty much every barbecue and church potluck. No one's sure if he's really devoted to jesus or just heard the story of a guy feeding an entire crowd and started showing up to church to feed people. He has caused two married men to have their bisexual awakenings.

-The town they all live in has an extremely high density of restaurants, meaning the only thing to do around there is go out to eat. The gang goes out to eat new places a lot together!

-Izutsumi is a warrior cats kid who was probably bullied for hissing and biting the other kids. The gang recognizes that she's not mean, she's just badly socialized and also seventeen. She lives in a group home, but has been running away less ever since she got promised regular meals.

-Related: Chilchuk is a union guy who is covertly making sure every restaurant they go to is up to code. He keeps shutting down places for not having adequate safety measures for their employees.

-Izutsumi has decided she's going to hang out with Chilchuk sometimes and will stop by his workplace. He's insistent that he's not adopting any more children, but has been teaching her how to budget, how to lie convincingly enough to get a job, and the most ethical places to shoplift from with the fewest risks because she's going to steal things anyways.

-Marcille has never been to a cornfield in her life. She's a Chicago kid, who really misses her deep dish pizza and that really good Italian place, but she's here to study some rare microorganisms.

-Marcille studies a very weird field of medicine that involves looking for medical uses in odd places. She's looking to eliminate class divides in lifespan by trying to find more affordable medicines for diseases that primarily affect the lower class.

-Her father died of asbestos poisoning from working in unsafe conditions when she was a kid, so she's especially alert for it, and gets a little neurotic around flu season.

-Laios and Falin used to go to the creek behind their house all the time to catch crawdads, and sometimes he'll still do it for old time's sake.

-Laios flunked out of college because they couldn't handle his autism rizz. He's going to trade school for the culinary arts, but he keeps trying to cook things he shouldn't.

-Laios checked out the massive dragon books from the library and cried when he found out they weren't real.

-He does furry commissions online, but he's not the best with customer negotiations and keeps wondering how many nipples someone's fursona has. Chilchuk helped him build his profile to appeal to commissioners who like speculative biology.

-Falin watched her brother flunk and went "hm, I think I will not." she's an apprentice at a local gardening shop. You think she's a normal sweet cottagecore kind of girl but then she starts gushing about soil nutrients and sustainability and you realize. Oh. Oh this is the kind of girl who would romanticize being buried under a tree and having it consume her bones.

-Laios wears shirts with anatomically correct dinosaur skeletons on them, but he has to order them online and frequently complains that there are no good clothing shops nearby. Senshi heard him say this, and introduced him to fabric paint.

#dungeon meshi midwestern AU

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blainesebastian · 1 year

Text

sticks & stones

words: 2,546 ship: austin butler x reader summary: (anon request) “ Austin launches his relationship with his girlfriend, she has a few thousand followers on IG and will post lots of selfies/risque photos and everyone’s tearing her down saying she’s too slutty/Austin is to classy for her?” warnings: none notes: thanks for reading!! slightly different from request. will re-open my requests after i finish this next fic i’m working on :) thanks everyone! tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff, @stylespresleyhearted

You've always been pretty liberal with posting photos of yourself. Your mother has this saying that she got from these old-timey song lyrics that goes 'accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative'—and it kinda just boils down to that for you? You appreciate a lot about your looks, your body, not in a completely conceded way, but in admiration. Too many women in your opinion aren’t fond with their looks or find something wrong with themselves, that's human, and you definitely have those moments. But you've also worked very hard to love yourself, every part of you. Your body supports you, nourishes you, is your home. Not that you post for anyone other than yourself? but you can't remember a time when anyone's ever had a problem with you either.

At least not until recently.

It comes and goes in waves ever since you started dating Austin—it never ceases to amaze you the audacity some people have online, how they're incredibly bold to strangers just because you so happen to be dating someone specific. You melt it all down to jealousy, you quell down the voices in the back of your mind that start to agree with terrible comments you've read and ignore it because what's the point?

You talk yourself out of it bothering you—until you can't.

Leaning against the kitchen counter, you doom scroll as your other hand holds a cup of matcha tea. You take a sip every so often but you're not really paying attention to anything other than the commentary on these candid photos that have been posted. You went to this Italian restaurant for dinner with Austin and his sister to celebrate her birthday and you're wearing a stunning navy-blue dress. It's got an open back, thin gold chains holding it together. The front is high-neck and you paired it with strappy gold heels and…really you've worn this dress around your own family and have gotten so many compliments. There's nothing wrong with it?

If you allow yourself to dive into the black hole of what's 'appropriate' for a woman to wear to dinner, you might not ever return. It'll never change the fact that people have strong opinions on absolutely everything and they somehow deem to apply it to you, what you want to wear, or how you and Austin are in your relationship. You and Austin have so much mutual love and respect for one another, he has never made you feel less than or like you should feel guilty or embarrassed for knowing and appreciating yourself.

And he's certainly never complained about what you've worn. You often know what he thinks about your clothes because he tells you—and something that you love best? No matter whether you're wearing a pair of joggers and one of his t-shirts or an elaborate dress from Fashion Week, the compliment is always in the same wheelhouse—'you're beautiful'.

So…why are these range of comments beginning to bother you? Especially when you realize the small sample size is women. You can’t even appreciate when others step in to back you up.

kelly_allen: she wore that to a…family dinner? austin44: yikes jessi1030: 😍😍😍 elvisfan: oh come on guys, maybe they’re going to a club afterwards? stylespreseleyhearted: pretty sure what she’s wearing is no one’s business—besides, do you see Austin complaining?? elvisthepelvis: bro just saying, his last gf wasn’t nearly as slutty

You don't even hear Austin come into the kitchen but suddenly he's in front of you, gently taking your phone out of your hand with a soft expression, "Told you not to look at that crap."

You crinkle your nose—were you being that obvious? "I know," You turn to lean back against the counter as Austin sets your phone face down, moving to stand in front of you and carefully pin you against the surface. His arms create a cage as he tilts his head down to nip at your lower lip, causing you to laugh. "Sometimes it's hard to avoid."

Austin hums lightly, lifting his one hand to cup your cheek. You turn into the touch a little, pressing a kiss to his palm and closing your eyes for a few moments to take a breath.

"It doesn't bother you?" You ask, gazing up into his blue ones, "What people say?"

He shakes his head before trailing his thumb over your lower lip, "It bothers me that you're upset."

Letting out a soft sigh, you roll your eyes to the ceiling before a semi-dramatic huff leaves your lips. You tilt forward a little until your forehead rests against Austin’s shoulder and it’s…a perfectly good spot right now. His arms move to wrap around your frame, squeezing, one hand massaging circles into your spine. Up and down in a soothing motion, almost perfect enough to fall asleep to.

You just…come to the decision that you can’t let it sit with you. It’s alright to let it upset you, you’re human and you have real emotions, but those words don’t have to plant seeds of doubt—there is nothing wrong with utterly being yourself.

Tilting your head back up, you give Austin a small smile, “I love you.”

He playfully grabs your chin with his fingers, his own matching smile as he leans down to kiss you in response.

Everything’s fine until it isn’t.

You kinda remove yourself from social media for a little bit, not deactivating anything, just not actively posting any updates about you and Austin or yourself. It’s definitely unlike you but you feel like you need a cleanse? To just get back on track of just doing your own thing without worrying about what anyone else thinks.

And that works for a while.

You’re out and about to grab lunch with a friend and after you’ve done that, you stop at a coffee shop that you frequent to get a latte that you’re only slightly obsessed with. It’s a nice day out so you’re wearing this t-shirt dress that hikes up the leg, showing off a thigh tattoo you have. You’ve paired it with this jean corset that creates a silhouette look, it’s one of your favorite fashion combinations to put together.

You turn to walk out of the café with your order and hold the door for someone behind you and you feel what happens before you even have time to process it. That same person says your name and there’s a fraction of a second where you’re confused because you’re ninety percent sure you don’t know them—

Then, “Slut.” And they toss their drink down the front of you.

You gasp and take a step back out of instinct and your mouth hangs open, not necessarily out of pain even though the coffee is hot, but because you’re shocked.

One of the baristas who know you and Austin well as regulars rushes out from behind the counter to hand you a hand-towel and ask you if you’re alright but…you can barely grasp the towel to begin patting yourself down, let alone answer their question. Emotions are heavy and quick, hitting you like a ton of bricks. Your eyes burn with tears and this lump appears in your throat that is incredibly difficult to swallow over.

You barely push out the words thank you before handing the towel back and rushing out of the doorway, making a b-line for home.

It’s a mixed bag of emotions and maybe you’re pissed off because you have no idea how to actually feel. You’re angry and vulnerable and sick to your stomach all at once, you don’t even realize your hands are shaking until you tear off your clothes and toss them on the floor. You lean against the sink in your stained nude bra and underwear, squeezing the sink, not being able to look yourself in the mirror because you know you’ll cry.

Austin chooses that exact moment to walk in the front door.

You quickly turn the shower on and reach for the bathroom door as your boyfriend wanders into the bedroom, “Hey Y/N.”

And you can’t quite close it now, giving him a ghost of a smile as you leave it open a crack to say, “Hey, just gonna grab a shower.”

But your voice does not sound like your own and Austin immediately picks up on that, taking a step closer. His eyebrows draw together as he touches the door, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” You reply, a bit too quickly.

Now Austin’s concerned, you can see the look right on his face because he knows you’re lying. He gently pushes on the door a bit more, getting you to take a step back.

“Austin—” You shake your head.

His eyes flutter across you then to the stained clothes on the floor, “What happened?”

Your voice changes, just slightly, because now you’re starting to get worked up. You just want him to leave you alone at the very same time that you want to tell him everything. And yet the words stick like glue in the back of your mouth because you know this was one of his fans that’s done this to you and…your interaction with Austin’s fans have always been pleasant. They’ve been nice and thoughtful and respectful so the fact that this happened feels messed up even more than it already is.

“Coffee happened,” You reply, voice sharp as you motion to the floor, “Obviously.”

“Y/N.” He says and it’s gentle, far too gentle and yet it somehow feels like a dagger right between your ribs and suddenly everything spills right out.

“Oh my god,” You scoff out a laugh, running a hand over your forehead, pushing your hair back. “What happened was I was at the café on the corner and when I went to leave, someone called me a slut and thew coffee at me. Okay? Happy?”

Austin stands there for a moment, a mixture of emotions passing over his face, his jaw clenching in that way where you know he’s pissed off. He doesn’t say anything though, like you expect he might, instead he takes a step forward and clasps the back of your neck with the palm of his hand. He draws you into his chest, wrapping his arms around you and you’re tense for a long few moments until you just…melt against his embrace.

That’s when the tears come.

There’s no loud sobbing but a stream of silent crying against his shoulder, turning your face into his neck and sniffling, fingers gathering the fabric of his shirt in your hands as your shoulders tremble. He doesn’t move for a long time, just keeps you against him, his hand stroking through your hair and massaging along your shoulders. He pulls back just slightly to look down at you, his hand cupping your cheek and removing a tear track with his thumb.

“M'sorry baby,” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You shake your head, sniffling again—your face feels puffy and wet, eyes red-rimmed, a bit congested from crying. A mess, really, can’t even imagine what you must look like. The thing is—he doesn’t have to apologize to you. He’s not in control of any of this, especially his fans. You know it’s not one hundred percent responsibility but moreso he cares that you’re upset, he’s hurt because you’re hurting.

“I love you.” Austin says, tilting your chin up just slightly so that your gazes meet.

That always manages to pull the softest of smiles from you and this is no different, regardless of how terrible you feel. You nod as you rest your hand on his chest, a point of connection, grounding, as Austin tugs you into his embrace again.

A few days pass since the incident and Austin has been relatively quiet about it. It's not that he's ignoring the situation or refusing to talk about it but rather he's just giving you open space to talk to him, or not talk at all. You appreciate that more than you can really put into words, you're not quite sure what you'd say anyways. It's such a push and pull kind of situation—you know that tensions and emotions run really high for fans, they feel a connection to Austin as real as the one you have with him, even if it's not the same at all. You don't want to disrespect that, you get that fans are also what make Austin's work so important—he cares about them and what they bring to the table in terms of his stardom. But at the same time? you definitely feel insulted, hurt, and you don't understand what you've done exactly to deserve such strong words and actions from a stranger.

It's a warmer day out and Austin's decided to take you out because you both have time off (secretly you know he's just trying to make you feel better, but it's working). It's a pretty lazy day, you're wearing a soft yellow sundress, a bit sheer, but it hangs on you beautifully. You're on your way to a brunch after visiting a farmer's market, a tote bag filled with fresh produce, cheese and some homemade fruit pastries that you couldn't pass up.

You wander down the sidewalk, Austin ending up behind you and it takes you a moment to turn around...to see him taking a video of you. Your cheeks flush pink and you kinda give him this look before laughing,

"What are you doing?"

"Filming my beautiful girlfriend." Austin replies, like it's obvious. "Do a twirl or somethin'."

You laugh, shaking your head, "No, stop."

"C'mon, can't be wearin' a pretty dress like that for no reason."

You roll your eyes but you're grinning, so you do what he asks. You do a playful twirl and come to meet him, grabbing his other hand as he flips the video around so that it's in selfie mode, you pressed up against his chest. He leans down and presses a soft kiss to your lips before ending the video. Lazily wrapping your arms around his waist, you watch as he taps open his Instagram on his phone, your eyebrows lifting slightly. You...didn't actually think he was going to do anything with the video he took. He snaps photos and takes videos all the time but they never end up on social media, which is fine, you know Austin isn't as active as you are on apps.

But for him to be...putting this on his story?

"Austin."

"I know what I'm doin'." He replies, drawing an arm around your shoulder. He presses a kiss to your temple and uploads the video to his story with the comment 'main character energy' and you can't help but snort out a laugh because he's ridiculous and cute and…sweet. And you fall a little bit more in love with him in that very moment.

He waits until the video loads before he closes his phone, putting it back into his pocket. Giving you a soft smile, he leans down to brush a kiss along the bridge of your nose. You hum lightly, eyes fluttering closed as you soak in the moment with him.

He definitely didn't need to do that? But it makes all the difference.

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things

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